Ruling the Greek World: Approaches to the Roman Empire in the East 3515111352, 9783515111355

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Ruling the Greek World Approaches to the Roman Empire in the East Edited by Juan Manuel Cortés Copete, Elena Mun ˜ iz Grijalvo and Fernando Lozano Gómez

Alte Geschichte Franz Steiner Verlag

Potsdamer Altertumswissenschaftliche Beiträge 52

Ruling the Greek World Edited by Juan Manuel Cortés Copete, Elena Mun ˜ iz Grijalvo and Fernando Lozano Gómez

POTSDAMER ALTERTUMSWISSENSCHAFTLICHE BEITRÄGE (PAWB) Herausgegeben von Pedro Barceló (Potsdam), Peter Riemer (Saarbrücken), Jörg Rüpke (Erfurt) und John Scheid (Paris) Band 52

Ruling the Greek World Approaches to the Roman Empire in the East Edited by Juan Manuel Cortés Copete, Elena Mun ˜iz Grijalvo and Fernando Lozano Gómez

Franz Steiner Verlag

Bibliografische Information der Deutschen Nationalbibliothek: Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek verzeichnet diese Publikation in der Deutschen Nationalbibliografie; detaillierte bibliografische Daten sind im Internet über abrufbar. Dieses Werk einschließlich aller seiner Teile ist urheberrechtlich geschützt. Jede Verwertung außerhalb der engen Grenzen des Urheberrechtsgesetzes ist unzulässig und strafbar. © Franz Steiner Verlag, Stuttgart 2015 Druck: Offsetdruck Bokor, Bad Tölz Gedruckt auf säurefreiem, alterungsbeständigem Papier. Printed in Germany. ISBN 978-3-515-11135-5 (Print) ISBN 978-3-515-11136-2 (E-Book)

CONTENTS Editors’ Preface ................................................................................................7 1. Cristina Rosillo-López Greek Self-Presentation to the Roman Republican Power.............................13 2. Elena Muñiz Grijalvo Greek Religion as a Feature of Greek Identity ...............................................27 3. Juan Manuel Cortés Copete Hellas, Roman Province .................................................................................43 4. Arminda Lozano Imperium Romanum and the Religious Centres of Asia Minor. The Intervention of Roman Political Power on the Temples of Asia Minor .........67 5. Ted Kaizer Dura-Europos under Roman Rule ..................................................................91 6. Elena Calandra Official Images in Athens in the Middle-Imperial Period ............................103 7. Fernando Lozano, Rocío Gordillo A Dialogue on Power: Emperor Worship in the Delphic Amphictyony ......127 8. Greg Woolf Greek Archaeologists at Rome .....................................................................147 9. Maurice Sartre Strabon et Plutarque: regards croisés sur l’Hégemonia tòn Rhomaiôn ........161 10. Francesca Fontanella The Roman Empire in the Works of Aelius Aristides ..................................171 General Index ...............................................................................................187

EDITORS’ PREFACE Ruling the Greek World is a result of two research projects developed during the past few years1. The aim of the first of these (Greeks in the Empire: the creation of a political category) was to analyse the procedures, ideas and realities which allowed the people from the Greek East to become a part of the Roman Empire while both preserving and redeveloping their cultural identity. Research into Hadrian’s work in this field stood out as the obvious sequel to the first project becoming the central theme of the second project: Hadrian, images of an Empire. The emperor’s love of the Greek culture, or philhellenism, turned the balance which had up until then reigned between the western and Greek speaking provinces into array, with the latter gaining a newfound importance within the Roman Empire as a whole. The first stage of this book came to a close with a scientific meeting, Ruling through Greek eyes, held in Seville in 2008. The title was meant to express our first hypothesis – that the Roman government accepted and endorsed a vision of their own power and empire which at least partially was born from Greek thought and political praxis. Although we continue to believe that this is a valid perspective, the works presented in the meeting, along with some new contributions included in this book, convinced us that research on Greek integration into the Roman Empire could only spring from an understanding of its diversity, both regional and political. It should also take into consideration the peculiarities that singled out the Greek culture within the Roman Empire. Culture, politics and religion thus stood out as obvious categories for understanding how Rome governed those vast eastern areas which they considered bound by Greek language and culture. It also became clear that focussing solely on the Greek cities of the provinces of Achaea and Asia was not enough. The reality of the Greek world had reached the Euphrates and other areas that had been deeply hellenised for centuries. Different socio-political structures from that of the cities were in force in these areas, especially in the temple states which were common in the Near East. The ways in which the cities that were considered “Greek” were integrated in the Roman Empire were not inherently obvious. The maintenance of the Greek as the language of government, the recognition of the political status of the Greek poleis, the respect the Romans showed for Greek gods, and the acceptance of their values and educational systems were not a natural consequence of the prestige and vigour of Greek culture. Nor were they exclusively born out of the respect the Romans, perhaps suffering from an inferiority complex, showed for these values. Undoubtedly, the intrinsic sturdiness of Greek culture, religion and politics was key to this development. However the willingness of the Roman government and of Ro1

Both projects have been funded by the Ministerio de Economía y Competitividad del Gobierno de España (HAR2008–02760, HAR2011–2638).

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man society as a whole – except for a number of dissenting voices – was also crucial in this process. Throughout the centuries, while the internal conditions of both the Roman Empire and its Greek citizens evolved, various political and institutional ways of securing the integration of the Greek East into the Roman Empire were put into place. “Ruling the Greek world” was indeed a dynamic and complex process which left neither the oligarchs nor the intellectuals from the Greek East indifferent as mere receivers of a process born and designed in Rome. In just half a century, the Greek cities went from a proclamation of freedom, which entailed the recognition of their political and cultural condition, to the razing of Corinth, completely destroying the city where that very freedom had been proclaimed. A century later, Corinth was reborn as a Roman colony whose institutions were no longer those of a Greek polis but a replica of Roman ones. Corinthians spoke Latin and their fields were redivided into plots according to Roman agrimensores. These three milestones – freedom, annihilation and Romanisation – should not only be understood as testimonials to the different stages in the evolution of Roman imperialism – which they obviously were –, but also as clear evidence that the Romans had many options to play with as regards their Greek subjects. Once Octavius had undeniably taken over, these milestones were not just memories of a more or less distant past. With Nero granting freedom and Vespasian abolishing it, to take just two examples, everything pointed to the fact that all options were still open to Rome. Granting the Greeks a privileged position within the Roman Empire as a tribute to their civilization was as possible an option as that of “barbarization”, i. e. the substitution of Greek cultural identity by the Roman one. However, between the respect and conservation of political and cultural structures, and their total annihilation and substitution by new realities of undeniable Roman stamp, there existed a wide spectrum of political possibilities with strong cultural and religious undertones. In creating those new options, which Rome either opted for, refused or changed, the political and cultural activity of the Greeks themselves, and in particular the oligarchs who ruled the cities in the Mediterranean East, played an important role. This book attempts to analyse those new possibilities. Cristina Rosillo-Lôpez’s initial chapter “Greek self-presentation to the Roman Republican power” looks at what could be defined as the prehistory of Graeco-Roman political integration. After the 2nd and 1st centuries B. C., when the Greek political system was in the throes of disintegration, new ways of keeping a privileged relationship with Roman rule were explored. Ancestors’ merits turned into the main arguments to be weighed up in Rome. Although they were not decisive during the Republic, they did contribute to pinpointing the arguments that would finally be successful during the Roman Empire. The importance of religion in how the Greeks presented themselves to the Romans is also brought into play by Elena Muñiz. Her work highlights the importance of the religious factor in how the Greeks defined their identity, which needed to be preserved and adapted for their integration into the Roman Empire. It was the civic oligarchies who demanded and encouraged keeping up the old religious traditions

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of their cities in harmony with the emperors, Augustus and Hadrian in particular. In this light, Muñiz recovers significant passages from leading authors of the imperial Roman period such as Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Plutarch and Dio of Prusa. They all show how the Greek elite was convinced that traditional religion should be given a fundamental value, both as a tool for civic cohesion, and as a means for achieving special recognition from Rome. After all, as an inscription in Stratonicea puts it, the Greek gods “have acted in favour of the eternal dominance of the Romans, our Lords”. The chapter “Hellas, Roman Province” starts off by reflecting on the previous arguments. It might also have been called “The battle for a name”, that of Hellas. Not one Roman province was ever called after that region which was identified with an entire civilization. Juan Manuel Cortés suggests that this incongruity lay in the fact that from the beginning Roman governmental structures – the provinces arising from military needs – had no necessity to recognise or adapt to previous realities. The only exceptions were firstly Asia and then Egypt, in so far as they were inherited kingdoms. From Augustus on, the Greeks from European Hellas set out to identify the province with those territories that aspired to being solely Greek. Under Caligula a confederation of Hellenic leagues was attempted with a view to Rome officially recognising them as the Hellenes. Even though the project was not entirely successful, in the 3rd century Cassius Dio had no trouble admitting that the name of that province was indeed Hellas. Despite Greek efforts, Rome did not find a well-balanced Greek world. The kingdoms, the leagues and the cities were their way of organising their world. Although Rome gave priority to cities and made it a personal responsibility to create poleis, neither the kingdoms nor the leagues disappeared. Kingdoms survived on the limits of direct Roman control whereas leagues, after a period of proscription, resurfaced stronger than ever with the reign of Augustus as agents of the Imperial cult. However, Greek civilization did not stop at these political structures. Arminda Lozano’s study is dedicated to the relationship between Rome and the temple states. Led by a strong sense of pragmatism, Rome was willing to accept or, more to the point, tolerate the traditions and customs of “the others” wherever it was to confront situations which were foreign to their own cultural and especially their religious world. Of course, this was all possible as long as their strategic and military interests were kept safe, as this was essential for controlling the territory. Nevertheless, as heirs to some extent of the Hellenistic kings’ policies, it cannot be denied that the Roman government did make an effort to extend the urban model in those areas of Asia Minor. The development of secular structures of power and the consequent birth of new oligarchies conflicted with the old-established religious entities, which gave rise to different reactions depending on the area. On the other hand, the secularisation of the great powers of the Asian temples, or at least the suppression of their independence and political power, was a constant throughout the High Roman Empire. Rome as the heir to the Hellenistic kingdoms is also the subject of Ted Kaizer’s work dedicated to Dura-Europos. This old Macedonian colony became a privileged witness to the process of the Greek political structures, which had stood on the

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boundaries of the Roman Empire, becoming part of the Empire. Despite Rome’s desire to take on the Greek cultural legacy as their own and identify it with the very essence of its domination, it is clear that not all the cities founded by Alexander the Great’s successors chose to be part of Roman dominance nor did they want to. This was brought to light by the plundering of the city during the retreat of the Roman troops, following Trajan’s unsuccessful Parthian campaign in the year 117. On the other hand, the final and definitive incorporation of Dura into the Roman Empire was held up as a sign of flexibility on the part of the Empire to deal with a situation in which Hellenism did nothing more than touch the surface of a cultural and multiethnic reality. Having focussed on the different Hellenistic political models and on Rome’s attitude to each of the models, from the Greek territories of the Aegean to the border with the Euphrates river, the following two chapters put the spotlight on Hellas itself, albeit from a different perspective: the ways in which imperial power made itself present in Greece and Greece’s reaction to Roman presence. In the first one, Elena Calandra analyses the evidences of the emperor’s presence in Athens. One of the most noteworthy examples is obviously that of Hadrian whose images are specially copious in the city. Without doubt his interest in being present in the city, both physically and iconographically, is the result of the emperor’s willingness to attribute a privileged position to the Greek world within the Empire. Fernando Lozano and Rocio Gordillo take a different look at the presence of the emperor in Greece by analysing the imperial cult. If when generalising about emperor worship the Greek East is to be considered culturally prone to looking on their emperors as gods and worshipping them in their lifetime as opposed to a rather restrained west, then the historiographical tradition of denying this type of worship in Delphi and the Amphictyony would seem rather strange. Lozano and Gordillo take a closer look at a series of inscriptions linked to the Delphic Amphictyony with a view to convincingly showing that in both the first and second centuries the league organised imperial cult. New priests were assigned to these rituals, strengthening the connection between the ancient Greek institution and the new Roman power. The book closes with three chapters given over to analysing some of Greece’s understanding of Roman rule and how it influenced the Roman rulers. Greg Woolf’s study looks into where the Greek world stood with Rome in terms of Rome’s civilization of the West during the reigns of Caesar and Augustus. Woolf is concerned with analysing the interest in ethnographic description which had at this stage become the means by which a general idea of the new conditions of world order arising from the Roman conquest of both east and west could be understood. Greek intellect played a major part in this cultural operation, which Woolf sees as being emblematically portrayed in the historiographical personality of Diodorus of Sicily. In his Bibliotheca Historica, not only are relevant theoretical formulations to be found but so too are some of their practical applications. In this light, his work became a historical milestone in Greece’s demand to be part of the intellectual ruling within the Roman Empire. This ruling would prove to be fundamental in how Rome governed the different towns throughout the Empire.

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Maurice Sartre continues to make a comparative analysis of the opinions of other Greek authors from the first century about Roman rule in Asia Minor and how it behaved towards inherited Hellenistic realities. With A. Lozano and T. Kaizer we were shown two specific examples, the temples of Caria and Dura-Europos. It is now time to look at the Greeks’ point of view and in particular, Strabo and Plutarch’s. Strabo takes Rome’s eagerness to completely change Greece’s administrative divisions of Asia Minor to task. Just as Cortés had studied for the province of Achaea, the creation of conventus iuridici in Asia brought about a new institutional framework which paid no heed to the traditional administrative organisation of the Hellenistic kingdoms. Marcus Antonius’ greed and his plundering of artistic and non-artistic treasures from the East also came in for harsh criticism. Sartre clearly sees how, in the Praeceptae gerendae reipublicae, Plutarch of Chaeronea speaks out against the behaviour of the Roman governors who turned into tools of corruption within political life. Plutarch was firmly convinced that Greek aristocrats were no less to blame for behaviour which, outwardly appearing to be of instant benefit in the internal struggles, threatened to destroy the city itself as a place where the Greeks could feel at home within the Roman Empire. This progressive development of Greek intellectual power in favour of Rome, whether as an instrument to crush its universal power or to preserve and strengthen its political structures, finds its culmination in the work of Francesca Fontanella and her analysis of the image of the Roman Empire in Aelius Aristides. In his speech To Rome, the sophist very convincingly eulogises the reasons why the Greek world, or at least its ruling oligarchy, could only see a positive outcome to their permanence and loyal participation in the Roman Empire. The Roman rule under which they found themselves had the consensus and participation of these very civic elites, whose task it was, among other things, to praise the new ruling power among their fellow citizens. Nevertheless, the analysis of other speeches of his, and in particular the Panathenaicus and the other civic speeches, prompts us not to forget the limits of Aelius Aristides’ admiration for Rome. Fontanella thus manages a perfect balance which means that the sophist is looked on as more than just a eulogist of Roman power. The colloquium which is at the heart of this book was closed by Paolo Desideri’s concluding remarks, which have served as an important inspiration for this brief introduction. Throughout the meeting, both organisers and participants had the pleasure of enjoying a climate of constructive dialogue which we hope is projected in these pages. Our desire is that reading these works will evoke the prevailing feeling during those days, i. e. that “ruling the Greek world” constitutes a subject of research in itself, in which the interaction between the ruling bodies of the Greek world, and the progressive development of the concept of Hellenism by both Greeks and Romans, should be at the core. This introduction would not be complete without acknowledging once again the infinite patience of the participants and, in particular, their outstanding and active participation. Among the participants was Sabine Panzram, who gave us a marvellous insight into Western rule which served as a basis for comparison for the

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conclusions drawn about the Greek East. Rocío Gordillo’s collaboration in the organisation and revision of the manuscript was priceless.

GREEK SELF-PRESENTATION TO THE ROMAN REPUBLICAN POWER Cristina Rosillo-López At the beginning of the second century BC, when Rome turned her head to the East, Greek communities faced new situations. Empires, such as the Macedonian, fell, and new powers, such as Pergamum, arose, in a period, according to Eckstein, of “exceptionally cruel interstate anarchy”1. After the unexpected collapse of one of the pillars of the former tripolar system, the Ptolemaic Empire, multipolar anarchy ensued2. Rome appeared as a new player, whose advantages relied on her ability to assimilate outsiders and her excellence in alliance-management3. Greek communities, caught in this context, had to develop new strategies for success and survival, such as self-presentation before the conquering powers. This text discusses the creation of Greek self-presentation before the Republican power during the second and first centuries BC. It is not an evolution easy to trace. The second century began with Rome as one of many powerful regions of the Mediterranean; a hundred years later, Greek communities slowly fell into the arms of Rome. However, in theory, they still retained their independence and self-government. Even though the date in which Greek cities entered into Roman dominion is a thorny question, during the second and first century BC, they were de facto under Roman rule, even if de iure they were independent4. This work aims to trace the development of Greek self-presentation by analysing some issues: Hellenistic kings before the Senate, persuasive rhetoric of Greek communities, and, as a test of whether it worked, trace the existence of special legislation in favour of Greeks. The main hypothesis is that the presentation of Greeks before the Roman power changed in the second part of the second century BC, when Greek communities lost their political power, that is, their chance to bar1

2

3 4

A. M. Eckstein, Mediterranean anarchy, interestate War and the rise of Rome (Berkeley 2006), 3. This article is part of the project “Opinión pública y comunicación política en la República Romana (siglos II-I a de C.)” (2013-43496-P), financed by the Ministerio de Economía y Competitividad, Spain. Eckstein 2006, op. cit. (n. 1), 4. The former tripolar system of the third century BC was based on the Ptolemaic Empire, the Seleucid Empire and Antigonic Macedon (A. M. Eckstein, Rome enters the Greek East. From anarchy to hierarchy in the Hellenistic Mediterranean, 230–170 BC (Oxford 2008), 19–20). Eckstein 2008, op. cit. (n. 2), 19–20. Cf. R. Kallet–Marx, Hegemony to empire: the development of the Roman Imperium in the East from 148 to 62 BC (Berkeley 1995), 126 ff.; 190–92. Kallet-Marx (1995) 286–87; 340–41states that this situation changed during Sulla’s dictatorship and, especially, during Pompey’s campaigns in the East. At that time, Romans recognized openly their imperium or hegemonia in this region.

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gain in equal terms with Rome. At that moment, when Greek communities could no longer compete with Rome in equal terms, allusions to Greek past flourished as a mean to gain symbolic status. Romans encountered monarchs for the first time at the beginning of the second century in the Hellenistic kingdoms. Did those kings have to face traditional Roman prejudice? The anti-kingship sentiment was felt in the East. Pouring into traditional Hellenistic liberation propaganda, Rome, a Republic, was liberating the cities from these omnipotent rulers5. King Antiochos wrote to Prusias that Rome intended to depose all royal dynasties in the Greek world6. Scipio Africanus and his brother Lucius felt compelled to deny those charges in a letter7. Rome had also refused conventional signs of friendship to some kings, pressing them for answers in a non-diplomatic way: the legate Popilius Laenas humiliated the Seleucid king Antiochos IV Epiphanes in 168 BC, drawing a circle into the sand and refusing to hear anything until the king gave him the answer he was expecting8. However, there was the possibility to use the term rex in a neutral or positive sense, in contrast with the negative tyrannnus9. Hellenistic kings could count on Roman expectations on that side. Several kings presenting themselves before the Senate practised different kinds of persuasive rhetoric, according to the image they wanted to deliver10. We shall see that this oratory relies on gestures, on words, but also on calculated silences. As euergetism11, this rhetoric formed part of a new language between the Senate and the kings. According to Ma, language should be understood as a constituent of power as violence or conquest12. The rhetorical dealings between kings and the Senate, without intermediaries, were moments where language was a powerful weapon. Kings had beforehand appeared before assemblies. For instance, king Philip V of Macedonia spoke at a meeting of the Achaean League in 200 BC, looking for an alliance against Nabis of Sparta. Speaking before an aristocratic body was not a novelty for them; but their presence was new for the Romans. In 198–197, Amynander, king of the Athamanes, appeared before the Senate13. His reign was surrounded by the Aetolian league and Macedonia, but he was not a 5

A. Erskine, “Hellenistic monarchy and Roman political invective”, Classical Quarterly 41 (1991), 116–17. 6 Polybius 21.11.2; B. Forte, Rome and the Romans as the Greek saw them (Rome 1972), 41. 7 Polybius 21.11. Cf. E. Rawson, “Roman tradition and the Greek world”, in A. E. Astin and F. W. Walbank (eds.), Cambridge Ancient History, second edition. Volume VIII. Rome and the Mediterranean to 133 BC (Cambridge 1989), 440. 8 Livy 29.27.1–13; 3.4.3. cf. C.B. Champion, Cultural politics in Polybius’s Histories (Berkeley 2004), 53. 9 E. Rawson, “Caesar’s heritage: Hellenistic kings and their Roman equals”, Journal of Roman Studies 66 (1975), 151. 10 T. Ball, Transforming political discourse. Political theory and critical conceptual history (Oxford 1988), 14 points out the question related to changes in discourse, which he identifies with conceptual changes (ibid, p. 25). 11 J. Ma, Antiochos III and the cities of Western Asia Minor (Oxford 1999), 199, 237, passim. 12 Ma 1999, op. cit. (n. 11), 104. 13 Erskine 1991, op. cit. (n. 5), 116.

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first-rate ally. “He [Flamininus] at once dispatched Amynander to Rome, as he knew that he was of a pliable disposition and would be ready to follow the lead of his own friends there in whichever direction they chose to move, and that his regal title (to tês basileias onama) would add splendour to the proceedings and make people eager to see him”14. Nor Roman nor Greek sources recorded the words of Amynander before the Senate. However, it is interesting that just his appearance would impress Roman people and politicians. The glamour of the word “king” was real and Hellenistic kings could apparently count on it. King Eumenes II of Pergamum was one of the kings who decided to side himself and his kingdom on the Roman side. Presenting himself as an important ally to Rome, he fashioned his new identity in response of what Rome expected from him and of what he wanted from Rome. It was the culmination of a policy started by his father. His speech and behaviour during his appearance in the Senate after the defeat of the Seleucid King, Antiochos III, in 190–189 BC, are crucial moments in the reinvention of kingship. Several sources recapitulate his actions: Polybius’ narrative is more explicit about the king’s behaviour and gestures15, while Livy is more concentrated on his words16. Some doubts have arisen about the reliability of the speeches17, but their authenticity is now widely accepted18. After the Roman victory, many communities in Asia Minor sent their envoys to the Senate, and king Eumenes appeared in person. The Romans treated more lavishly their firmer supporters, namely Eumenes and the Rhodians. Eumenes, at the request of the Senate, appeared, but refused to speak, leaving his and the Asia Minor communities’ destiny into the hands of the Senate. “Eumenes said that had he wished to ask a kindness of any other people, he would have taken the advice of the Romans so that he might neither nourish any immoderate desire nor make any exorbitant demand, but now that he appeared as a suppliant before the Romans, he thought it best to commit to them the decision about himself and his brothers”19. Even after being pressed by a senator, Eumenes refused to ask for anything. Rome’s staunchest ally on the East, and a king indeed, would not ask for rewards nor even give his own opinion. Roman senators seemed bewildered about his attitude and resolved to ask for his presence. This second time he appeared alone, without other Greek representatives. Eumenes, posing as a suppliant full of humbleness, managed to present a 14

15 16 17 18 19

Polybius 18.10.6–7; Livy 32.36 points out that it was the Roman delegation which added splendour to the embassy. D.C. Braund, “Three Hellenistic personages: Amynander, Prusias II, Daphidas”, Classical Quarterly 32 (1982), 352 notes that Amynander was not the first king to visit Rome; Hiero II had been there in 237 BC (Eutropius 3.1–2) (all translations come from Loeb editions). See S. I. Oost, “Amynander, Athamania, and Rome”, Classical Philology 52 (1957), 3, who also tries to minimize Polybius’ interpretation of Flamininus’ intentions, since it has some invidious ring, to make Flamininus appear as a schemer (7–8). Polybius 21.18–24. Livy 37.53–54. D. Magie, Roman rule in Asia Minor to the end of the third century after Christ I (Princeton 1950), 108. E. S. Gruen, The Hellenistic world and the coming of Rome (Berkeley 1984), 547 and n. 78. Polybius 21.18.5.

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pleasant figure to the Romans, repeating again his complete reliance on the Senate. There was a clear goal in his humbleness: this attitude allowed him to press for a sensitive issue, that is, the support of the Rhodians. Eumenes, having obtained Roman confidence, wanted to turn them against the Rhodians. “For when they enter his house they will say that they have come neither to beg for anything at all from you nor with the wish to harm myself in any way, but that they send this embassy to plead for the freedom of the Greek inhabitants of Asia Minor. They will say that this is not so much a favour to themselves as your duty, and the natural consequence of what you have already achieved”20. Eumenes, after recalling in his speech his father’s and his own deeds for Rome, asked for territories in Asia if Rome leaved21. Eumenes’ strategy was successful to win sympathy for his cause: “the senate gave a kind reception to the king himself and to his speech, and they were ready to grant him any favour in their power”22. “The speech of the king pleased the Fathers, and it was quite evident that they would deal with the whole matter generously and in a sympathetic spirit”23. However, after hearing the Rhodians, the Roman Senate decided for the middle ground, and granted cities in Asia Minor to both Eumenes and Rhodes24. Eumenes seems to have grasped the idea of the Roman power, represented by the Senate, by playing down his personae as suppliant. Naiden does not identify Eumenes’ pleading before the Senate as supplication. It is true that it does not fulfil all the stage of traditional supplication: location, gestures and words, requests and arguments, deny or grant the request25. Eumenes is fashioning a new language and presentation of himself before the Romans, as a faithful but not too subservient ally. Nevertheless, there was a thin line between the behaviour/self-presentation of Eumenes and Prusias of Bithynia. It all had to do with the interaction between the conception of Romans about what a king should be and how he should behave. Greek monarchies too had changed their understanding of Roman power. In 168 BC, according to Polybius, king Prusias of Bithynia, received the Roman legates in the costume of a libertus: “he went to meet them [the legates] with his head shorn and wearing a white hat and a toga and shoes, exactly the costume worn at Rome by slaves recently manumitted26”. Prusias did not only dress himself as a libertus, but he called himself as such: “in me, he said, you see your libertus 20 21 22 23 24

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Polybius 21.19.6–7. Polybius 21.21.9–11. Polybius 21.22.2. Livy 37.54.1. Polybius 21.24. For the treaty terms, A. H. McDonald, “The treaty of Apamea”, Journal of Roman Studies 57 (1967), 1–8; A. H. McDonald and F. W. Walbank, “The treaty of Apamea (188 BC) The Naval Clauses”, Journal of Roman Studies 59 (1969), 30–39; R. Seager, “The freedom of the Greek in Asia: From Alexander to Antiochos”, Classical Quarterly 31 (1981), 106–112, on the influence of this treaties in the “freedom of the Greeks in Asia” issue; E. Bickerman, “Notes sur Polybe I. Le statut des villes d’Asie après la paix d’Apamée”, Revue des Études Grecques 50 (1937), 217–39, on the superiority of Livy’s account (Livy 37.56.1–6) over Polybius’ (21.24.6–9, 21.46.2–12). F. S. Naiden, Ancient Supplication (New York 2006). Polybius 30.18.3.

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who wishes to endear to himself and imitate everything Roman”27. Braund states that Prusias was trying to state that he had been just freed from Macedon. This subtle interpretation, however, was lost to the Roman envoys28. A year later, he appeared before the Senate to congratulate Rome for the fall of Perseus. There, Prusias surpassed his previous performance. He prostrated himself in the door of the Senate and, in a gesture of adoration, addressed the senators as “hail, ye saviour gods”29 (khairete, theoi sôtêres), an appellation only normally bestowed on kings30. Polybius notes that his interview was conducted in a similar manner. His servile attitude granted him a kind answer from the Senate, who, nevertheless, thought him contemptible31. Polybius criticised him strongly, stating that this immoral and unmanly behaviour had as consequence the increase of Roman tyrannical tendencies32. King Prusias had his own reasons to behave in such a manner: as a relative to king Perseus, he had kept his kingdom neutral during the Third Macedonian War. Only when Roman troops entered into Macedonia, Prusias supplied some warships to the victors33. His non-involvement in the war provides the reason for his ostentatious humble behaviour. From this analysis, we could come to the conclusion that there was a difference when the embassy was led by the king (or a close member of the royal family) or by some envoys. The king was able to present a humble persona because he could rely in his reputation as an institution. Nevertheless, they had to comply with that image. Eumenes, though humble, did fit the Roman image of a king. Prusias hailing the senators as theoi sôtêres, did not comply to it. The presentation of Greek pro-Roman factions to the Roman power, in a moment when their support mattered, was another key step in the transformation of a Greek image in Rome. In 179, the Senate received an embassy of the Achaeans on the subject of the possible return of the Spartan exiles34. The League favoured the view of Lycortas, according to which ancient treaties and laws were more important than the will of Rome. In the city, one of the envoys, Callicrates of Leontium, departed from the orders of the League and actually lectured the Senate (nouthetein), as an equal, about their policy in the East. The Senate should, he said, promote and support pro-Roman factions in the cities, if Roman wishes had to prevail. “For he [Callicrates] said that it was the fault of the Romans themselves that the Greeks, instead of complying with their wishes, disobeyed their communications and orders. There were, he said, two parties at present in all democratic states, one of which maintained that the written requests of the Romans should be executed (…) 27 28 29 30 31

Polybius 30.18.4. Braund 1982, op. cit. (n. 14), 353–354. Polybius 30.18.6; Livy 45.44.19. Rawson, 1975, op. cit. (n. 9), 156. Pace Rawson 1975, op. cit. (n. 9), 156, who states that the Senate “was delighted”. Polybius 30.18 clearly affirms that the Senate gave him a kind reply, but thought him contemptible. Cf. A.M. Eckstein, Moral vision in the Histories of Polybius (Berkeley 1995), 224–225. 32 Polybius 24.10.11–12; 24.13.1–4. 33 Livy 44.10.12. 34 Polybius 24.8–10. On the Spartan exiles, cf. Forte 1975, op. cit. (n. 6), 47–52; 75–77; 420–421 for Pausanias’ interpretation of this episode.

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while the other appealed to laws, sworn treaties and inscriptions (…). If the Senate now gave some of disapproval the political leaders would soon go over to the side of Rome, and the populace would follow them out of fear”35. Polybius comments that “for it was still possible for the Achaeans even at this period to deal with Rome on more or less equal terms, as they had remained faithful to her ever since they had taken her part in the most important times – I mean the wars with Philip and Antiochos”36. Apparently, Callicrates’ speech and presentation impressed the senators so much that, in their answer to the Achaean League, he was the only ambassador mentioned by name and he was highly praised indeed37. Callicrates was badly represented in the sources due to his perceived pro-Roman stance. According to Polybius, Callicrates’ speech before the Senate “was the beginning of a change for the worse”38, part of the metabolê, an epoch-making change which began with the breach of alliance between Macedonia and the Achaean League39. However, Polybius’ depiction of Callicrates could not be labelled sine ira et studio. After the war against Perseus ended (168 BC), a thousand Achaeans, who had supported Perseus, were deported to Rome to be tried before the Senate. Callicrates pointed out the names, among which figured Polybius40. No doubt then that Callicrates figures as a great villain in the Histories. Nevertheless, it would be misleading to label Callicrates as a pro-Roman. Golan states that, beyond personal rivalries, the politicians of the Achaean League “men of equal social class, were united in their efforts to preserve their common League”41. Some of them, as Callicrates, thought that Roman power would be the best ally in that struggle. Callicrates is a very interesting figure for what he represents. He stemmed from a leading family in politics, as Polybius did. According to Golan, Polybius believed that Callicrates was endangering the Achaeans’ position by leading Rome to think that the polloi governed the Achaean League; Rome would hold this as a threat for herself, as the Senate despised popular rule42. This debate about Callicrates has sprung into historical writing. Modern views of Callicrates range from qualifying him as an ambitious man (B. Niese), a realist (R. M. Errington), a “quinsling” or traitor (H. E. Stier) or a wise politician (G. Nicolini43). 35 36 37 38 39

40 41 42 43

Polybius 24.10.9. Polybius 24.10.9. Polybius 24.10.7. Polybius 24.10.10. C. Habicht, Athens from Alexander to Antony (Cambridge 1997), 231. Polybius considered Callicrates as unpatriotic. On metabolê, cf. Polybius 7.11.1. D. Golan, The Res Graeciae in Polybius. Four studies (Como 1995), 48; H. Nottmeyer, Polybios und das Ende des Achaierbundes: Untersuchungen zu den römische-achaiischen Beziehungen ausgehend von der Mission des Kallikrates bis zur Zerstörung Korinths (München 1995), 15–119. Polybius 30.10; 31.8; 32.7–8. Habicht 1997, op. cit. (n. 38), 216–217. Golan 1995, op. cit. (n. 39), 82, n. 29. cf. Polybius 24.13.8; 18.13.1–15.7. Similar suggestion (pro and anti-Roman are contemporary misleading categories) in Gruen 1984, op. cit. (n. 18), 445, n. 35. Golan 1995, op. cit. (n. 39), 92–93: “class enmity replaced political respect”. Cf. J. Briscoe, “Q. Marcius Philippus and Nova Sapientia”,]ournal of Roman Studies 54 (1964), 66–77. Golan, 1995, op. cit. (n. 39), 76 and n. 6. cf. B. Niese, Geschichte der griechischen und makedonischen Staaten seit der Schlacht bei Chaeronea, 3 vols. 1893–1903, vol. 3, 59; R. M. Err-

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One thing is clear beyond all interpretations about his motivations: his self-presentation and rhetoric before the Senate were persuasive and successful. In fact, he addressed the senators as an equal, at a time when Athens was losing its power. And his Roman connection paid for him: Habicht asserts that, in 150 BC, Callicrates was considered one of the most powerful men in Greece because of his ties with the Senate44. An inscription from Olympia commemorates the return of the Spartan exile and his figure45. However, Polybius records some internal dissent in Athens: people who sided with Callicrates were avoided in public baths, as if they were polluted, and hissed in public46. Despite this, during thirty years, and until his death in 149 BC, Callicrates managed to retain power in Athens because of his pro-Roman stance. In 154 BC, the decision of the Achaean League on the subject of war between Rhodes and Crete was suspended because Callicrates proposed that it should be consulted with the Romans47. Gruen states that he was successful because he understood clientela in the Roman sense. However, nothing of it trascends from his speech before the Senate48. It was pure persuasive rhetoric. Callicrates was not the only Greek who managed to put forward a successful self-presentation before the Romans. Astymedes, a Rhodian ambassador did so, albeit with a different strategy. Rhodes had tried to maintain its independence from any inferences since the entry of Rome in the East, but it was a difficult position to take. When Rome began her war against Antiochos the Great, Rhodes hesitated, since the island was on friendly terms with the two contenders. However, no neutrality was possible, and finally Rhodes joined the coalition against Antiochos once Rome had struck some decisive blows (such as the victory at Thermopylae49). When the war finished, both the Rhodians and Eumenes appeared before the Senate, requesting the spoils. With the peace treaty of Apamea (188 BC), Rhodian supremacy extended to Lycia and to all Caria south of the Meander50. After two calm decades (180s and 170s), the start of the Third Macedonian War (172 BC) saw the return of Rome to Asia Minor, this time against Perseus. Rhodes’ envoys spoke against the war, criticising Euemenes, whose speech versus Perseus in the Senate could have driven Rome to start a new conflict51. ington, Philopoemen (Oxford 1969), 204–205; H. E. Stier, Roms Aufstieg zur Weltmacht und die Griechische Welt (Köln 1957), 183; G. Nicolini, La Confederazione Achea (Pavia 1914), 168. 44 Habicht 1997, op. cit. (n. 38), 267. Eckstein 2008, op. cit. (n. 2), 372 argues that Polybius exaggerated Callicrates’ dominion in Athens. In the following ten years, we have the name of four strategoi and they were all anti-Callicrates. However, the very partial evidence, with only four name records, makes Eckstein’s argument doubtful. 45 SIG 3, 634 (Inscr. von Olimpia, 300). Cf. P.S. Derow, “Polybios and the embassy of Kallikrates”, in Essays Presented to C. M. Bowra (Oxford 1970), 12–23. 46 Polybius 30.32.1; 30.29.1. Cf. J. Deininger, Der politische Widerstand gegen Rom in Griechenland, 217–86 v. Chr. (Berlin 1971), 211–214. 47 Polybius 33.17.7. 48 E. S. Gruen, “Roman imperialism and the Greek resistance (review)”, Journal of Interdisciplinary History 4 (1973), 273–86. 49 Livy 36.45.5. 50 Polybius 21.24.7–8; Livy 37.55–56. 51 Rhodian envoys: Appian, Mac. 11.3; Livy 42.14.6–9; Eumenes’ speech: Livy 42.11–13; Ap-

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Rhodes’ commercial activities suffered from a new war. Finally, after many discussions, they joined the Roman side, but without providing any important assistance52. The war dragged on. In 168 BC, Rhodes was eagerly disposed to mediate between the two sides, urged by Perseus53. However, the Rhodian offer of mediation seemed offensive to some Romans54. The Senate accused the Rhodians of trying to rescue Perseus, arguing that they should have mediated before, when Perseus was defeating the Greeks, and not after the final Roman victory of Pydna. Rhodes had survived as an independent power thanks to its ability to form alliances with multiple powers55. Gruen stated that “they [the Rhodians] preferred to control their own sphere of influence by keeping on good terms with a number of the major powers rather than to gain an empire through dependency on Rome56”. However, this policy did not agree with Roman intentions and the Senate decided to make an example of Rhodes57. Rhodes defended itself: anti-Roman leaders were chased and expelled from the island58. The praetor M. Iuventius Thalma even brought before the people a formal declaration of war against Rhodes, but was dragged from the rostra59. In this context, Cato’s speech pro Rhodiensibus closed the debate in favour of a more lenient approach60 . Gruen suggests that the threats may have only had the goal of humiliating Rhodes, rather than the intention of starting a new war61. However, the Rhodians took the menace seriously. It is not surprising that Astymedes, one of the Rhodian envoys to Rome, had to debase his self-presentation and the prestige of his island, to ensure survival and buy leniency. Rhodian envoys had, according to Polybius, been welcomed with suspicion and hostility in private and public at their arrival to Rome. They counted with some defenders within the Roman elite: Cato pronounced his oration in their favour; the tribune Antonius had dragged the praetor from the rostra, in order to avoid a vote, and introduced them before the Senate. Eilers claims that Rhodes had no patrons at the time62. Despite their support, the case of the Rhodians was not a trifle. Before appearing in front of the Senate, Astymedes and Philophron had already exposed pian, Mac. 11.1–2. Gruen 1984, op. cit. (n. 18), 409–410 doubts that Rome was driven to war by the old and unsubstanced charges presented by Euemenes. On the background of the war, cf. Gruen, ibid., 408–419. Probable reasons for the war: Gruen, ibid., 417–19 suggests fear of Perseus and the need to demonstrate Roman reputation on the East. 52 Polybius 27.7; 27.14. 53 Polybius 29.3.7–9. 54 Polybius 29.19.1–4; Livy 45.3.3–6; Diodorus 30.24; cf. E. S. Gruen, “Rome and Rhodes in the Second Century BC: A historiographical inquiry”, Classical Quarterly 25 (1975). 58–81. 74– 77. 55 Polybius 30.5.8; Gruen 1984, op. cit. (n. 18), 568. 56 Gruen 1984, op. cit. (n. 18), 568. 57 Polybius 29.19.6–10; Livy 45.3.6–8. 58 Polybius 30.31.14; 30.31.20; Livy 45.10.12–15. 59 Polybius 30.4; Livy 45.20.4–25.4. 60 Gellius 6.3. Edition with commentary in G. Calboli, Marci Porci Catonis Oratio Pro Rhodiensibus: Catone, l’oriente greco e gli imprenditori romani (Bologna 1978). Some fragments were preserved by Gellius. 61 Gruen 1984, op. cit. (n. 18), 570 and n. 4. 62 C. Eilers, Roman patrons of Greek cities (Oxford 2002), 109.

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their case by begging, by tears and by appearing in mourning clothes, taking the personae of supplicants. In his account, Polybius gives the prominent role to Astymedes. The historian had probably access to first-hand sources, since it is known that the Rhodian envoy wrote and published his defence of Rhodes before the Senate. This fact warns us that either Astymedes was rather pleased with his speech or that he had to defend himself from his behaviour (and therefore had to publish what he had said). However, it seems that the city of Rhodes was satisfied with Astymedes’ dealing with the Romans, since a few years later (165–164 BC) he was sent in a new embassy to Rome in order to beg for fairer conditions for Rhodes. Thus, the speech that Polybius puts in Astymedes’ mouth is probably close to the original. For the historian, Astymedes’ behaviour was ethically wrong, since it was servile and broke the principle of good faith towards others63. In his speech, Astymedes magnified the services of Rhodes and discredited other states by accusing them of bigger offences towards Rome. Apparently, according to Polybius, the Romans were not aware of many of them, which made Astymedes’ accusations extremely embarrassing for other Greeks64: In comparing and judging the relative values of kindnesses and assistance rendered to the Romans, he attempted to discredit and belittle the services of other states, while he magnified those of Rhodes, exaggerating them as much as he could. In regard to offences, on the contrary, he condemned those of others in a bitter and hostile spirit, but tried to cloak those of Rhodes, so that when compared the offences of Rhodes might seem to be small and deserving of pardon, but those of her neighbours great and quite inexpiable, although, as he said, the offenders had all been pardoned.65

Astymedes’ self-presentation before the Senate is extremely interesting. He could rely on his persona to make a point, as a king could, and as Eumenes showed to the Senate. He was only the ambassador of an island which had fallen into discredit in the eyes of the Romans. Since he was not a king but a mere ambassador, his humiliation would not appear to the Romans as contemptible; in that sense, Astymedes had an advantage over king Prusias, who appeared that same year in Rome, and whose behaviour in Roman eyes was not fitting for a king. Astymedes’ efforts were partly successful. The Rhodians were not declared enemies, although they lost their former status as allies. Furthermore, they lost their possessions in Asia Minor66; worst of all, Rhodes’ commercial revenues plummeted with the declaration of Delos as a free port67. Despite requests in 167 and 166, Rome did not sign an alliance with Rhodes until 164 BC68.

63 Eckstein 1995, op. cit. (n. 31), 222–225. Cf. Polybius 30.4.15–16; F. W. Walbank, A historical commentary on Polybius (Oxford 1957–1979), vol. 3: Books 19–40. 64 Polybius 30.4. 65 Polybius 30.4. 66 Polybius 30.5.11–16. 67 N. K. Rauh, The sacred bonds of commerce: religion, economy and trade society at Hellenistic Roman Delos, 166–87 BC (Amsterdam 1993). 68 Polybius 30.3119–20; Livy 45.10.12–15; 45.24.5–6.

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It seems that there was no other way of action available. Three years later, in 165–164 BC, he travelled to Rome and gave a similar self-presentation. The only difference was that this time there were no tears, but excuses. Astymedes summed up Rhodes’ losses since the Roman punishment: mentioning first of all that of Lycia and Caria, on which provinces they had spent from the outset a considerable sum, having been compelled to undertake three wars against them, and now they were deprived of the large revenue derived from them (…); but the greatest calamity inflicted on our town is this. The revenue we drew from our harbour has ceased owing to your having made Delos a free port, and deprived our people of that liberty by which our rights as regards our harbour and all the other rights of our city were properly guarded. (…) For while the harbour-dues in former times were farmed for a million drachmae, they now fetch only a hundred and fifty thousand.69

However, it was not Astymedes’ self-presentation which tipped the balance in favour of the Rhodians. In his speech, when talking about Rhodes’ behaviour during the war, he declared that “the authors of this folly were quite few in number and have all been put to death by the state itself”70. The confirmation of this point by Roman envoys, led by Tiberius Gracchus, convinced the Senate to renew its alliance (summakia) with Rhodes71. * All these different strategies of self-presentation had their result in the enactment of special legislation accorded to the Greeks, such as the senatus consultum of 169 BC. The previous years, complaints about exactions of Roman magistrates had aroused from all parts of the Empire, from the Greek regions to Hispania. However, not all Roman subjects were equally treated. In 169 BC, proconsul A. Hostilius Mancinus sent two legates, who toured Greek cities in order to acquaintance them with a new decree of the Senate: “that no one should contribute anything to Roman officers for the war except what the Senate should have voted”.72 This decree was the answer of many abusive requisitions from Roman magistrates. The complaints of Greek cities against the Senate, pointing out the exactions of Lucretius Gallus and Hortensius, had been addressed. However, this senatus consultum was also the result of the prestige of Greek cities; they had more influence with the Senate and the Roman elite than other territories. For instance, the habitants of the provinces of Hispania, who had also complaint to the Senate, did not benefit from such a favourable measure. Those primitive and underdeveloped regions could not compete with Greek culture. Nor with the desire of senators such as T. Quinctius Flaminius or Aemilius Paullus of getting 69 70 71 72

Polybius 30.31. Polybius 30.31.14. Polybius 30.31.18. Livy 43.17.2–4: Eodem anno C. Popilius et Cn. Octavius legati, qui in Graecia missi erant, senatus consultum Thebis primum recitatum per omnes Peloponnesi urbes circumtulerunt, ne quis ullam rem in bellum magistratibus Romanis conferret, praeterquam quod senatus censuisset; cf. Polybius 28.3.2–3.

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close to Hellenistic tradition73. Furthermore, even if de facto under Roman domination, Greek cities kept in theory their independent status, recognized as such by Rome. This unequal situation, regarding to exactions, would only be levelled by the lex Calpurnia de rebus repetundis (149 BC), which covered all money extorted by Roman magistrates in the provinces74. The Senate would concede special legislation to the Greeks because, immersed in a war, Rome needed their support. It was their actual prestige and power what counted, not their historical past. In conclusion, in the first half of the second century BC, Flamininus and Aemillius Paullus, the first philhellenes, recognized Greek cultural superiority, but they do not seem to have felt any special respect for its history. Rome showed no intention, need or interest to occupy herself with Greek past. The present and future seemed more important. A glorious past and a powerful present could not cohabit in the eyes of the Romans. This situation changed. The loss of Greek political power by the end of the second century BC and the generalisation of Greek pedagogues for the children of the Roman elite, who divulgated Greek history, allowed Greeks to be associated more with the past than with the present. Greek culture became a model. Carthaginian culture, for instance, just as old, belonged to a powerful enemy; in this case, cultural assimilation was not possible. In the first century BC, the sources record the first instrumental allusions to the Greeks’ glorious past. Athens’ times of yore save her twice from her present. The city broke her alliance with Rome and switched her fidelity to Mithridates, king of Pontus. After a long siege, the army of Sulla entered Athens in March 86 BC. Just before the battle, some Athenian envoys had talked about Theseus and Eumolpus and the Persian Wars. Sulla’s answer was lapidary: “be off (…), and take these speeches with you; for I was not sent to Athens by the Romans to learn its history, but to subdue its rebels”75. No concessions would be made to the past until his military objectives had been completed. A horrible slaughter ensued, only stopped due to the pleading of Roman senators and the supplication of two Athenian refugees, Meidias and Calliphon “After some words in praise of the ancient Athenians, he [Sulla] said that he forgave a few for the sake of many, the living for the sake of the dead”76. The narrative of Plutarch is closely based in Sulla’s own Memoirs, which gives reliability to Sulla’s statements. These words resounded in Greek ears some years later. Athens found herself in Pompey’s side during the following civil war. Calenus, Caesar’s lieutenant, could not take Athens before the defeat of Pompeian forces in Pharsalus. After the battle, Athens surrendered to Caesar. Dio’s account of Caesar reaction echoes Sulla’s words: “Caesar without resentment released them altogether, making only this remark, that in spite of their many offences they were saved by the dead. This speech signified that it was on account of their ancestors and on account of the latter’s glory 73 74 75 76

J. L. Ferrary, Philhellénisme et impérialisme: aspects idéologiques de la conquête romaine du monde hellénistique (Rome 1988), 527–45. C. Rosillo-López, La corruption à la fin de la Rèpublique romaine (IIº-Iº S. Av. J.-C.): aspects politiques et financiers (Stuttgart 2010). Plutarch, Sulla 13. Plutarch Sulla 14.9. Cf. Habicht 1997, op. cit. (n. 38), 306–307.

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and excellence that he spared them”.77 Appian’s version sounds more cynic: Athenians presented themselves as suppliants before Caesar, who asked: “How often will the glory of your ancestors save you from self-destruction?”78 Not all Greek cities could count on their prestige. Megara, who did not surrender immediately, was severely punished by Calenus79. However, it was not a question of how much resistance Caesarian troops had had to face. The siege and naval battle of Massilia, in 49 BC, began after its inhabitants refused to open the doors of the city to Caesar’s army. The city resisted the siege and even tricked the Romans into a truce which they themselves broke at a time. Despite this opposition, Caesar finally accepted the surrender of the Massilians in honour of their ancient name (pro nomine et vetustate80) and not for any merit they could claim. This assertion is contemporary and is recorded by Caesar himself, which takes away any suspicion of later discourse on Greek glory, as one could suspect of Dio’s and Appian’s comments. The recurrence to a gone glorious past is a strategy of survival which is attested throughout history. In her book about 13th century French aristocracy, Spiegel suggests that historical writing in Old French prose was, in fact, a historiography of resistance facing increasing royal authority. The past, featured in those chronicles, offered the aristocracy social worth and political legitimacy in the present; it also helped them to preserve its status and functional role81. In the case of the Greeks, this strategy was fashioned in two parts. First of all, by the first century BC, Greek communities, deprived of real power, were appealing to their glorious past in their dealings with the Romans. Secondly, the definite textual construction of that past would appear with the Second Sophistic. Greek construction of an image in the eyes of the Romans was not a simple matter. According to Gruen, “Roman intellectuals absorbed and benefited from Hellenic culture, but felt free to belittle and defame its representatives. They saw no contradiction”82. This conundum led to complex situations. Already in the late first century BC, Sallust claimed that the achievements of Athens were exaggerated, for a simple reason: “because Athens produced writers of exceptional talent, the exploits of the men of Athens are heralded throughout the world as unsurpassed”83. Some years before, senator Gaius Memmius was found guilty of electoral corruption in 52 BC and left Rome for Athens. Once there, he decided to build himself a 77 78

Cassius Dio 42.14.2. Appian, Civil wars 2.88. M. C. Hoff, “Civil Disobedience and Unrest in Augustan Athens”, Hesperia 58 (1989), 267–276. 79 Cassius Dio 42.14.3; Habicht 1997, op. cit. (n. 38), 350–53. 80 Caesar, Civil war 2.22.6: Quibus rebus confectis Caesar magis eos pro nomine et vetustate, quam pro meritis in se civitatis conservans duas ibi legiones praesidio relinquit, ceteras in Italiam mittit; ipse ad urbem proficiscitur. 81 G. M. Spiegel, Romancing the past: the rise of vernacular prose historiography in thirteenth-century France (Berkeley 1993), 317. I would like to thank Herman Bennett for the reference. 82 Gruen 1984, op. cit. (n. 18), 270.. 83 Sallust, Catilina 8: Atheniensium res gestae, sicuti ego aestumo, satis amplae magnificaeque fuere, verum aliquanto minores tamen quam fama feruntur. Sed quia provenere ibi scriptorum magna ingenia, per terrarum orbem Atheniensium facta pro maxumis celebrantur.

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palace in the site where Epicurus’ house once had stood. Through his connections and money, he obtained the permission of the Areopagus. However, the head of the Epicurean school wrote to Cicero and Atticus, looking for help to block the project. Cicero sent Memmius a letter, and the latter finally dropped the construction84. Memmius was not an ignorant about Epicurus’ teaching, since Lucretius dedicated his De rerum natura to him. Furthermore, Cicero claimed that, as an orator, Memmius was more skilled in Greek than in Latin85. Was it a case of appropriation of Epicurus’ site? Was Memmius just being a philistine? Was he revering or despising Athenian culture? The study of Greek self-presentation during the Republic may help us to understand not only Greek self-presentation as understood by Romans, but also how Greeks fashioned their identities during Roman rule.

84 85

Cicero, Letters to his friends 13.1. Cicero, Brutus. 70: perfectus litteris sed Graecis, fastidiosus sane Latinarum.

GREEK RELIGION AS A FEATURE OF GREEK IDENTITY* Elena Muñiz Grijalvo Being Greek did not always mean the same thing throughout the ancient history of Greece. At least, not in the writings of those who took the trouble to speak about it. The ingredients of Greekness were indeed basically the same from Herodotos to Aelius Aristides: descent, language, cults, way of life1. But the emphasis that was laid on one or the other made the difference. Suzanne Saïd put it neatly not too long ago: as soon as the fourth century B. C., culture had replaced blood as the main reason to be considered Greek, although it gained a new importance in Roman times within the context of interstate diplomacy2. Blood is just one example: every single factor of Greek identity was given due weight depending on the situation that the Greek world was going through, on the speaker and on his audience3. Public expressions of identity are often formulated when there exists a new situation, mainly when the group faces up to the existence of foreigners or to the consequences of contact with alien peoples. That was exactly what happened, for instance, when Greece became painfully aware of the Persian world: Greek identity found for the first time (as far as we know) a formula in the words of Herodotos, which included sharing the same blood, speaking the same language, having common shrines and sacrifices and the same way of life, with a great emphasis on freedom: a handful of free men against an army of slaves4. It happened again in the fourth century B. C., when the Greek poleis confronted Macedonian rule. In the works of Isocrates or Demosthenes, civic identity became one of the main focuses of interest, together with the kinship among the Greeks and any good excuse for developing friendly feelings among them. Religion was no doubt one of those excuses: the common shrines of the Greeks, or the games which were reserved for the Greeks, were great opportunities to remember that “we Greeks” were not the same as “they Macedonians”. * 1 2

3 4

This paper has been written with the support of the research projects “Griegos en el Imperio: La invención de una categoría política” (HAR2008–02760), and “Adriano: Imágenes de un Imperio” (HAR2011–26381), both sponsored by the Government of Spain. Herodotos 8.144.3; Isocrates, Panegyricus 50; Dionysios, Roman antiquities 1.89.4; Dio 38.46. S. Saïd, “The discourse of identity in Greek rhetoric from Isocrates to Aristides” in I. Malkin (ed.), Ancient perceptions of Greek ethnicity (Cambridge-London 2001), 275–299; J. M. Hall, Hellenicity. Between ethnicity and culture (Chicago-London 2002). For descent as an argument in interstate diplomacy, see n. 10. Saïd 2001, op. cit. (n. 2), 288. For the ongoing debate about Herodotos as a pioneer in the formulation of Greek identity, see E. Gruen, Rethinking the other in Antiquity (Princeton 2011).

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Of course religion was always important in the definition of Greek identity. Like the rest of the factors of identity, it was used in different ways to suggest different things, at the speaker’s discretion. The aim of this paper is to focus on Roman times, when Greek religion assumed a key role to express not only Greekness, but also elite and civic identity5. I will contend that those who cared for the meaning of being Greek were essentially the same people who were concerned about their own social and political position within the Roman empire. Keeping Roman rule in mind6, religion was used as a way of consolidating the power of elites, whether in their own poleis or within the empire. Rome gave the elites the opportunity of becoming partners in the empire. According to the words of Aristides in the Roman Oration, 59: There is that which very decidedly deserves as much attention and admiration now as all the rest together. I mean your magnificent citizenship with its grand conception, because there is nothing like it in the records of all mankind. Dividing into two groups all those in your empire – and with this word I have indicated the entire civilized world – you have everywhere appointed to your citizenship, or even to kinship with you, the better part of the world’s talent, courage, and leadership.7

But taking advantage of this opportunity meant, among other things, to insist on the excellence of Hellenism as an argument to justify the presence of Greek elites in the circles of power of the empire. As we will see, on the one hand religion as a feature of Greek identity was crucial in the statement of Greek excellence and, therefore, in the position of Greek elites within the empire. On the other hand, it allowed them to keep a firm hold on civic power in their own poleis. And, last but not least, it also supported Roman rule in Greece, as it expressed the meaning of being Greek in a way that was both acceptable and desirable for Rome. * Religion was used in highly varied and imaginative ways to shape Greek identity in the Roman empire. For instance, the mythical origins of a city could be the subject of new rituals, which were at the same time both a reaction to Roman rule and a way to integrate Rome in the life of the city. The best example is probably the foundation 5

6 7

E. Stephan, Honoratioren, Griechen, Polisbürger: Kollektive Identitäten innerhalb der Oberschicht des kaiserzeitlichen Kleinasien (Göttingen 2002). I cannot agree with I. Sandwell, Religious identity in Late Antiquity. Greeks, Jews, and Christians in Antioch (Cambridge 2007) when she contends that “religious interaction is always a prerequisite for the existence of religious identities” (p. 3). This paper is based on the assumption that Greek religious identity was formulated in the Greek literature of the first and second centuries AD as a consequence of the interaction with Rome as a political rule, not as a religious alien. For the elaboration of Greek identity basing also on religion, see S. Goldhill, “Religion, Wissenschaftlichkeit und griechische Identität im römischen Kaiserreich”, in D. Elm von der Osten-J. Rüpke-K. Waldner (eds.), Texte als Medium und Reflexion von Religion im römischen Reich (Stuttgart 2006), 125–140. As was the case with Persians or Macedonians, Rome was an ineludible presence that provoked a redefinition of Greek identity, see P. Desideri, “L’impero bilingue e il parallelismo Greci/ Romani”, I Greci. II.3. Una storia greca (Torino 1998), 909–938. All translations are from the Loeb Classical Library.

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of Caius Vibius Salutaris, a wealthy Ephesian who paid for a new procession that was to be held every two weeks and included among other things statues of the Ephesian Artemis, together with those of Trajan, Plotina, the senatorial and the equestrian orders8. The Salutaris foundation acted out the sacred identity of Ephesos, while at the same time underlined local and imperial hierarchy. Something similar happened in the magnificent Sebasteion of Aphrodisias, but starting from the opposite point of view. This time the setting was this imperial cult centre built in the first century CE9. In one of the porticoes, the imperial images were supported by a frieze which showed some very popular Greek myths. In this case, myth expressed Hellenic identity by providing the frame of reference for Roman presence in Aphrodisias and in the Greek world. Myth could of course express many more things. A heroic founder was the way to certify that a city belonged to the ancient Greek world, in a time when being able to prove your Greek origins was a powerful argument both in interstate diplomacy and in the relations with Rome10. Myth was also a way to reassert social power, as it gave indisputable authority to a series of values which passed for common values of the Greek, but were essentially the arguments on which the elite power was grounded11. The use of myth in Roman times is a long-running critical issue that has already been successfully dealt with several times. Here I will explore a different religious dimension: rather than the references to myth, I will centre on the practice of Greek religion in the works of Greek writers from the first century BC to the second century CE, and its importance in the construction of Greek identity. First, I need to explain why I have selected certain authors and certain works. Admittedly none of them dealt directly or exclusively with identity or religion; nevertheless, they elaborated on the concept of Greekness and used religion as a way of emphasizing the importance of being Greek. I will focus mainly on the Roman Antiquities of Dionysius of Halikarnassos and the political works of Dio of Prusa and Plutarch, because they were written as answers to a very specific situation: the effects of Roman rule on the Greek world. 8 9

G. M. Rogers, The sacred identity of Ephesos (London-New York 1991). S. E. Alcock, “The reconfiguration of memory in the Eastern Roman Empire”, in S. E. Alcock (ed.), Empires. Perspectives from Archaeology and History (Cambridge-New York 2001), 32– 59; R. R. R. Smith, “The imperial reliefs from the Sebasteion at Aphrodisias”, Journal of Roman Studies 77 (1987), 88–138; A. Chaniotis, “Vom Erlebnis zum Mythos: Identitätskonstruktionen im kaiserzeitlichen Aphrodisias”, in E. Schwentheim-E. Winter (eds.), Stadt und Stadtentwicklung in Kleinasien (Bonn 2003), 69–84. 10 O. Curty, Les parentés entre cites grecques: Catalogue raisonné des inscriptions contenant le terme SUNGENEIA et analyse critique (Geneva 1995); C. P. Jones, Kinship diplomacy in the ancient world (Cambridge 1999); I. Romeo, “The Panhellenion and ethnic identity in Hadrianic Greece”, Classical Philology 97.1 (2002), 21–40; T. S. Scheer, Mythische Vorväter zur Bedeutung griechischer Heroenmythen im Selbstverständnis kleinasiatischer Städte (München 1993); Y. Lafond, La mémoire des cités dans le Péloponnèse d’époque romaine: IIe siècle avant J.-C.-IIIe siècle après J.-C. (Rennes 2006). 11 S. Swain, “Dio’s life and works”, in S. Swain (ed.), Dio Chrysostom. Politics, letters, and philosophy (Oxford 2000), 6.

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The authors that I have chosen were highly aware of the troubles which resulted from the integration of the Greek poleis, and especially their elites, in a wider frame of reference. Their reaction was up to a point quite similar: they assumed their role as advisors, and used Greek identity as a device to situate Greek poleis and their elites in the best possible position within the empire. They exhorted their contemporaries to behave as Greeks, and to do so they stressed the different ingredients of Greekness. One of them was religion. In their view, the practice of civic religion could help to create or recreate that sense of Hellenism which was necessary to put the Greeks in a privileged place12. In these works, therefore, religion made identity, and broadcasted a message that was intended to reach both Greeks and Romans. So, as I hope to show, not only in the monuments of public display, but also in literature and in speeches, religion was a “creative way of living meaningfully” in the Roman world13. One of the best cards that Greek elites could play in their relation with Rome was to underline the dignity and antiquity of their way of life, and to make that respectability the same as Greek identity. In Dio’s words: More than by your harbours, your fortifications, your shipyards are you honored by that strain in your customs which is antique and Hellenic, so that when anybody comes among you he recognizes instantly on disembarking, even if he happens to be of barbarian race, that he has not come to some city of Syria or of Cilicia14.

The practice of civic religion was immensely helpful in the task of presenting Greekness as ancient and venerable; and, at the same time, literature was the perfect tool to emphasize those aspects of ritual that could best support this view. So orators and writers insisted on the link between Greek identity and religion, and in the process they worked out a picture of Greek religion as one of the pillars of respectability and good order. This particular version of the role of religion in the life of the cities contributed to guarantee that elites were to keep their control over their co-citizens and, at the same time, that they were accepted into the nets of power of the Roman empire. But Greek elites were not the only intended beneficiaries of this rhetorical device: Rome itself could profit from it, as it painted a Greece that they would be able to understand and accept, a Greece whose superiority they were ready to admit as a further reason to be proud of being its master. In what follows, I will consider separately these three different uses of religion as a feature of Greek identity.

12

13

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M.-H. Quet, “Remarques sur la place de la fête dans les discourse des moralistes grecs et dans l’eloge des cités et des evergetes aux premiers siècles de l’Empire”, La fête, pratique et discours (Paris-Besançon 1981), 41–84, explored the role of religious festivals as a way of strengthening the feeling of belonging in a unified Greek world. The device of “creative ways of living meaningfully” is what Ch. Thomas, “At home in the city of Artemis: Religion in Ephesos in the literary imagination of the Roman period”, Ephesos, Metropolis of Asia (Cambridge 1995), 115, concludes as one of the consequences of the public display of certain monuments. I believe that the sentence may also be applied to literature. Rhodian Oration 163.

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1. RELIGION IN GREEK IDENTITY AS AN ARGUMENT FOR CIVIC CONTROL As Paolo Desideri remembered not too long ago, the increasing awareness that the most important decisions for a polis were not made by its local authorities, but far away in the imperial circles of power, must have had lethal effects on the sense of belonging to the civic community15. Although the power of elites was probably never under serious threat, they also had to accommodate to the new structure, and that included renegotiating their local power. The issue is a huge one and I do not intend to deal with it directly16, as it constitutes the general frame of this volume. Here I will focus only on one of its aspects, namely on how religion got involved in the negotiation and, more specifically, on how the practice of religion was used in literature as an argument to keep civic control in the hands of local elites. Greek literature worked on the assumption that religious power belonged to the elites. And it was true: even the most radical democracies had acknowledged that the ultimate religious authority lay on the hands of aristocracies17. But, even though there were few doubts about it, in Roman times a wide range of writers developed some arguments to support this view. It is interesting to wonder why they would bother to do so. Certainly not for practical reasons: civic religion was undeniably controlled by elites, and Roman rule came only to reinforce their religious power, so apparently there was no point in insisting on that. But the management of civic religion was the perfect excuse to state a more general issue: the innate superiority of elites. One of the most convincing treatments of this subject was devised by Dionysius of Halikarnassos in his Roman Antiquities. According to Dionysius, elites were the authors of religious order, which was expressed in laws and priesthoods that had been put in their hands by the gods. No doubt this view echoed the Stoic doctrines about the knowledge of god, which claimed that religion had been invented by man, and that there were three possible ways of approaching the gods: the philosophical, the poetical and the civic approach18. But in my opinion, apart from sharing his 15

P. Desideri, “Dimensioni della polis in età alto-imperiale romana”, Prometheus 28.2 (2002), 139–150. 16 F. Gascó, “Vita della polis di età romana e memoria della polis classica”, I Greci. II.3. Una storia greca (Torino 1998), 1147–1164; A. D. Macro, “The cities of Asia Minor under the Roman imperium”, ANRW II.7.2, 659–697; S. Mitchell, Anatolia. Land, men, and gods in Asia Minor (Oxford 1993); G. Salmeri, “Dio, Rome, and the civic life of Asia Minor” in Swain 2000, op. cit. (n. 11), 53–92. For a short and very useful survey of civic rule in the Greek cities, see Ch. Schuler, “Local elites in the Greek East”, The Oxford Handbook of Roman Epigraphy, (New York-Oxford 2015), with selected bibliography on this subject. 17 R. S. J. Garland, “Religious authority in Archaic and Classical Athens”, ABSA 79 (1984), 75. However, for a precise assessment of the religious role of the elites in democratic times, see M. H. Jameson, “Religion in the Athenian democracy” in I. Morris-K. Raaflaub (eds.), Democracy 2500? Questions and challenges. Archaeological Institute of America: Colloquia and Conference Papers 2 (1997), 171–195. 18 For the influence of Varro in this part of the Roman Antiquities, see E. Gabba, Dionysius and the History of Archaic Rome (Berkeley-Los Angeles-Oxford 1991), 122. For the “theologia

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philosophical knowledge with his public, Dionysius was trying to say something else. The work of Dionysius has been interpreted as an effort to convince Greeks and Romans alike that they were one and the same thing19. The benefits that this idea could bring to the Greek subjects of Rome are clear enough: eventually, if Greeks were to be considered Romans, Roman empire would be theirs, too20. But it is also clear that Dionysius was not only thinking about the general profits for the Greeks: he was probably thankful to Rome, as it was Roman rule what “ensured that the right sort of people retained control of local government in the Greek cities”21. He saw Rome as the saviour of the Greek elites. That fact, together with the idea that Romans had remained faithful to the best part of Greekness, while contemporary Greeks had betrayed their own essence, make it possible to read Dionysius’ comments about Roman history as admonitory words for the Greek people of his day22. If I am right, even though he was speaking about archaic Rome, some parts of Dionysius’ work may be understood as reflections on an ideal Greek identity. Greece was thus very present in his work in quite different ways: as the real origins of Rome, as the intellectual basis of most of his points of view23, as a store of examples that could be referred to when necessary24, and also – and this is my point here – as the addressee of some of his thoughts about Greekness. That was the case with the long fragment that Dionysius devoted to Romulus’ religious regulations25. Within a famous excursus known as “the Romulus’ constitution” (2.7–29), the author dwells at length on the institution of Roman religion: 18. He understood that the good government of cities was due to certain causes which all statesmen prate of but few succeed in making effective: first, the favour of the gods, the enjoyment of which gives success to men’s every enterprise; next, moderation and justice (…) and, lastly, bravery in war, which renders the other virtues also useful to their possessors (…) He took great care, therefore, to encourage these, beginning with the worship of the gods and genii. He established temples, sacred precincts and altars, arranged for the setting up of statues, determined the representations and symbols of the gods, and declared their powers, the beneficent gifts tripartita”, see P. Desideri, “Religione e politica nell’Olimpico di Dione”, Quaderni Storici 43 (1980), 141–161, especially 146–7. 19 Gabba 1991, op. cit. (n. 18); E. Gabba, “La ‘Storia di Roma archaica’ di Dionigi d’Alicarnasso”, ANRW II.30.1 (1982), 799–816; F. Hartog, Memories of Odysseus (Edinburgh 2001), 171–188. 20 Hartog 2001, op. cit. (n. 19), 176. 21 M. Gleason, American Journal of Philology 119.2 (1998), 308; see also Gabba 1982, op. cit. (n. 19), 802. 22 In 7.71 ss, Dionysius gives a thorough description of Roman rites as if they were identical to archaic Greek rites, and in any case more Greek than the Greek rites of Dionysius’ lifetime. 23 M. Pohlenz, “Eine politische Tendenzschrift aus Caesars Zeit”, Hermes 59 (1924), 157–189, commented in E. Gabba, “Studi su Dionigi da Alicarnasso, I. La costituzione di Romolo”, Athenaeum 38 (1960), 175–225. 24 Gabba (1982), op. cit. (n. 19), 811. 25 Gabba (1982), op. cit. (n. 19), reproducing the arguments of Pohlenz and Von Premerstein about a hypothetical Greek source for this excursus. See also J. P. V. D. Balsdon, “Dionysius on Romulus”, Journal of Roman Studies 61 (1971), 18–27, who does not believe that there existed such a Greek pamphlet.

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which they have made to mankind, the particular festivals that should be celebrated in honour of each god or genius, the sacrifices with which they delight to be honored by men, as well as the holidays, festal assemblies, days of rest, and everything alike of that nature, in all of which he followed the best customs in use among the Greeks (…) 21. (…) He appointed a great number of persons to carry on the worship of the gods. At any rate, no one could name any other newly-founded city in which so many priests and ministers of the gods were appointed from the beginning. For, apart from those who held family priesthoods, sixty were appointed in his reign to perform by tribes and curiae the public sacrifices on behalf of the commonwealth (…) In the next place, whereas others generally choose in a careless and inconsiderate manner those who are to preside over religious matters, some thinking fit to make public sale of this honour and others disposing of it by lot, he would not allow the priesthoods to be either purchased for money or assigned by lot, but made a law that each curia should choose two men over fifty years of age, of distinguished birth an exceptional merit, of competent fortune, and without any bodily defects; and he ordered that these should enjoy their honours, not for any fixed period, but for life, freed from military service by their age and from civil burdens by the law.

What Dionysius was saying in this long and important part of the Romulus’ constitution is basically that Romulus had invented religion, and that he had put religious power forever in the hands of the elites, “in all of which he followed the best customs in use among the Greeks” (18). In short, he thought that, as well as Roman archaic religion, the Greek religion of the old good times was both organic and elitist. On the one hand, he told about the actual invention of the symbols and the powers of the gods, and of the way of keeping them satisfied through civic ritual; on the other, he explained what sort of people should hold the priesthoods. Gabba does not think that Dionysius shared Critias or Polybius’ views on religion as a device to keep the ignorant masses under control; he prefers to believe that Dionysius was aware that gods had taken an active part in the life of men26. Be that as it may, his remarks make it quite clear that, in his opinion, archaic Romans and Greeks of old times had entrusted religious power to their elites, and that this was the way it should be – also in Roman times. Either because they had been empowered by the gods, or because they had been smart enough to make up all the religious tradition, the truth was that the civic elites were superior and that they should enjoy religious authority. Or, to put it in Dionysius’ words, people of “distinguished birth”, “exceptional merit” and “competent fortune” (21), whose innate superiority qualified them as rulers. Dionysius was not the only one to develop the subject of the natural superiority of elites, and to use religion as an argument to support it. Religious knowledge also got successfully linked to higher education27. For instance, that was the case with the work of Pausanias, who described panta tà helleniká focusing mainly on art and religion. Pausanias displayed an incredible knowledge of what he called “all the Greek things” or “all the aspects of the Greek world”28. The Periegesis shows that 26 Gabba 1991, op. cit. (n. 18), 191–2. 27 For education as a way of presenting the natural superiority of elites, see T. Schmitz, Bildung und Macht: zur sozialen und politischen Funktion der zweiten Sophistik in der griechischen Welt der Kaiserzeit (München 1997). For the last consequences of linking education and religion, see G. Bowersock, Hellenism in Late Antiquity (Cambridge-New York 1990). 28 Pausanias 1.26.4. Debates about the correct translation of panta tà helleniká in M. Jost, “Unité et diversité: La Grèce de Pausanias”, Revue des Études Grecques 119 (2006), 568–587, citing

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only a real pepaidoumenos would be able to master Greek traditions to such an extent29. In the work of Pausanias, therefore, Greek identity was a question of higher education and of religious knowledge, and it was reserved to the elites. Similarly, only elites were entitled to reject lower forms of religion, which may be summed up as “superstition”. That was one of the messages of the famous treatise On Superstition by Plutarch. Speaking about atheism and superstition, Plutarch described a superstitious person as the one who believes that gods are adverse and terrible. Neither this way of seeing the gods, nor the disgusting rituals which were performed as a consequence of this misunderstanding (166AB: smearing with mud, wallowing in filth, immersions, casting oneself down with face to the ground, disgraceful besieging of the gods, and uncouth prostrations), were characteristic of the Greeks. Quoting Euripides, Plutarch blamed barbarians as responsible for the corruption of real Greek religion30. The antidote might only come from philosophers and politicians, who “try to prove that the majesty of God is associated with goodness, magnanimity, kindliness, and solicitude” (167E). Educated people and, more specifically, the people who ruled the cities were – in Plutarch’s view – the only capable of getting true knowledge about the gods and suggesting the right way to worship them. In fact, superstition has been explained by Gordon as “an ideological instrument developed to contain possible threats to the basic assumption of the Graeco-Roman sacrificial system, that those who were at any moment in control deserved to be where they were”31. In Plutarch’s work, superstition was condemned because it went against the proper Greek religion, which was identified with religious truth. But what really mattered was to state that only philosophers and politicians could attain that sacred truth and look after it: We (…) pray to the gods with the mouth straight and aright, and not to inspect the tongue laid upon the sacrificial offering to see that it be clean and straight, and, at the same time, by distorting and sullying one’s own tongue with strange names and barbarous phrases, to disgrace and transgress the god-given ancestral dignity of our religion (166 AB)

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Musti’s translation; V. Pirenne-Delforgue, “La notion de ‘panthéon’ dans la Périégèse de Pausanias”, Kernos Suppl. 8 (1998), 129–148; C. Bearzot, “La nozione di koinós in Pausania», in D. Knoepfler-M. Piérart (eds.), Éditer, traduire, commenter Pausanias en l’an 2000 (Geneva 2001), 93–108; Y. Lafond, “Lire Pausanias à l’époque des Antonins. Réflexions sur la place de la Périégèse dans l’histoire culturelle, religieuse et sociale de la Grèce romaine», ibid., 387– 406; W. Hutton, Describing Greece. Landscape and literature in the Periegesis of Pausanias (Cambridge 2005). S. Goldhill, “Artemis and cultural identity in empire culture: How to think about polytheism, now?”, Greeks on Greekness (Cambridge 2006), 112–161. It was not the only time that Plutarch explicitly rejected foreign rites. For instance, in On the Pythian Responses, he explained that one of the reasons why the Delphic oracles had ceased to be composed in verse, was “the gang of soothsayers and scamps who strolled around the ceremonies of the Great Mother and of Serapis, with their mummeries and tricks, turning verses out of their own heads, or taking them at random from handbooks, for servant boys and silly girls, and such as are best attracted by metre and a poetic cast of words” (407C). R. Gordon, “Religion in the Roman Empire: The civic compromise and its limits”, in M. Beard-J. North (eds.), Pagan priests. Religion and power in the ancient world (London 1990), 233–255.

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In order to reinforce the idea that Greek tradition and religious truth were a monopoly of the elites, Plutarch advised spending some money. Usually he was contrary to excessive expenditure, which in his opinion only contributed to spoil the masses. However, when it was about religion, any expenditure was right for him, as money could help to fortify the faith of the people in the gods and, above all, to identify that faith with the people who cared for the gods. This is how he put it in his Precepts of Statecraft: 818 CD If the people, taking an ancestral festival or the worship of some god as a pretext, are bent upon some public spectacle or a slight distribution of funds, or a gift for the general good or some lavish show prompted by private ambition, for such purposes let them reap the benefit both of their generosity and of their prosperity. (…) 822B Let the gifts be made without bargaining for anything (…) They should be given on some occasion which offers a good and excellent pretext, one which is connected with the worship of a god and leads the people to piety; for at the same time there springs up in the minds of the masses a strong disposition to believe that the deity is great and majestic, when they see the men whom they themselves honour and regard as great so liberally and zealously vying with each other in honouring the divinity.

Of course religious evergetism was one of the few chances that had been left for a politician to get ahead in Roman times. Plutarch and his contemporaries were well aware of it32. But it was also a way of showing that the civic elites were the right intermediaries between the masses and the gods. In a very practical fashion, it was the way to use religion as an argument for civic control. As in classical times, Greek religion continued thus to be a political event, which meant – among other things – that it helped to create civic identity33. But there was a significant difference between the fifth century BC and Roman times: while in classical times the emphasis was put on the internal coherence of the polis, in Roman times religion was used to define Greek identity as opposed to foreign customs – foreign both to Greeks and to Romans-, and also as opposed to the vul32

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Plutarch, Moralia 805B: “There are many excellent lines of endeavour that are neglected in our cities which a man may take up, and also many practices resulting from evil custom, that have insinuated themselves to the shame or injury of the city”. See also Plutarch, Moralia 787B: “Why, then, forsooth, is public life feared as inexorable, toilsome, and burdensome, when theatrical exhibitions, festive processions, distributions of food, choruses and the Muse and Aglaya, and constantly the worship of some god, smooth the brows of legislators in every senate and assembly and repay its troubles many times over with pleasure and enjoyment?”. The same opinion in Dio 31. 161–2: “It would, therefore, be reasonable to expect you to give heed to yourselves and to examine all such matters as these more carefully than did your ancestors. For whereas they had many other ways in which to display their virtues – in assuming the leadership over the others, in lending succour to the victims of injustice, in gaining allies, founding cities, winning wars – for you it is not possible to do any of these things. But there is left for you, I think, the privilege of assuming the leadership over yourselves, of administering your city, of honouring and supporting by your cheers a distinguished man unlike that of the majority, of deliberating in council, of sitting in judgement, of offering sacrifice to the gods, and of holding high festival – in all these matters it is possible for you to show yourselves better than the rest of the world”. About religious evergetism in the Greek poleis of imperial times, see Gascó 1998, op. cit. (n. 16). L. Bruit Zaidman, “Le religieux et le politique: Déméter et Koré dans le cité athénienne”, in P. Schmitt Pantel-F. de Polignac (eds.), Athènes et la politique (Paris 2007), 57–82.

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garity of the masses. More than the identity of all, religion helped to shape the identity of the elites against their own fellow-citizens and before their Roman masters. This intellectual appropriation of religious authority made it possible to identify themselves as the real holders of Greek religious tradition. As we will see, the management of religion helped to make the elites the main beneficiaries of the privileged position of Greekness in the empire. 2. RELIGION IN GREEK IDENTITY AS AN ARGUMENT FOR PRIVILEGED POSITION IN THE EMPIRE The idea that the Roman Empire did not only belong to Romans, but also to the Greeks – who were Rome’s ancestors –, was suggested as we have seen in very different fashions, from Dionysius of Halikarnassos to Aelius Aristides. Greek religious traditions were a further argument to claim for a privileged position in the empire. In this fashion it was a constant feature in Greek literature of imperial times. Skilfully presented, religion constituted one of the reasons why Greek people, especially Greek high-educated aristocratic people, could boast about their exceptional nature. Two main avenues were developed to reach such a conclusion. Firstly, insisting on Greek religious tradition as synonymous of religious wisdom. The constant references to Homer as the father of all religious knowledge were always a good starting point34. In this role Homer was present everywhere, even – and here we have an example of the craftiness of good rhetors – at the background of the power of the Roman emperor. In his second Peri basileias, Dio made the young Alexander say that Homer believed that “the king should be the superior of all men”, and, as a consequence, that “to me, father, Homer seems a most excellent disciplinarian” (54). Anyway it was not Homer the main argument to profess deeper religious insights than other people. In these matters philosophy was the star. Greek philosophy was admittedly the base of any religious speculation, even though Romans had also exhibited a high philosophical knowledge and a remarkable capacity for religious exegesis by Roman times35. But this is not the place to speak about philosophy. Instead, I would like to focus on the use of Greek traditional religion as a further reason to claim for a special religious wisdom. The best way to prove it was to offer Greek religion as a method for exegesis of the emperor’s rule. It was not only that philosophers proposed themselves individually as spiritual leaders for the emperors. Dio had assumed this role more than once, disguised as the god Hermes leading Heracles-Trajan36, an example of the 34 See for instance Dio 12, passim, and Plutarch, On the Pythian responses, passim. 35 Varro or Cicero were key religious sources also for Greek authors. 36 S. Saïd, “Dio’s use of mythology”, in Swain 2000, op. cit. (n. 11), 161–186; A. Gangloff, Dion Chrysostome et les mythes. Hellenisme, communication et philosophie politique (Grenoble 2006).

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well-known topic of the philosopher as the necessary leader for kingship37. But also Greece as a whole could perform the role of the tutor who offered its disciple – Rome –, a wide range of experience and religious traditions to face any situation. Let us see two different examples of how this idea may be read between the lines. In Dio’s first Peri basileias there is a beautiful story about a rural prophetess, an old woman who came from Arcadia, who asked Dio to transmit the myth of Heracles’ choice between tyranny and royalty to the Roman emperor: 53. I saw a woman sitting, strong and tall though rather advanced in years, dressed like a rustic and with some braids of grey hair falling about her shoulders (…). 56. “Some day,” she said, “you will meet a mighty man, the ruler of very many lands and peoples. Do not hesitate to tell him this tale of mine even if there be those who will ridicule you for a prating vagabond (…). 58. It has to do with this god in whose presence we now are. Heracles was, as all men agree, the son of Zeus …”

The old prophetess’ request has been rightly interpreted by Desideri as a sort of “divine endorsement to Dio’s intended intellectual activity as the ruler’s counsellor”38. The fact that the woman came from Arcadia is highly significant too: a quasi-mythical site, in a time when country was idealized as the only possible place to live a free life, to earn one’s living in an honourable way, and to respect morality and traditional values in a spirit of authentic religious devotion39. Dio was probably referring to the country as the opposite to the corruption of the city, and, therefore, as the only possible origin of right advice and honest wisdom. This is why, in my opinion, the metaphor could be pushed even a bit further: the old prophetess was also standing for the whole Greece, guardian of the ancient wisdom and ready to transmit it to Rome. The prophetess-Greece embodied also the virtues of the rural, while Rome was the city, the corrupted, in desperate need of an instruction which could only come from Greece. My second example also comes from Dio’s work and has also been the object of Desideri’s detailed analysis40. In the Olympian Oration Dio spoke about the supreme god, Zeus, and its most revered image, Pheidias’ Olympian Zeus. Making a good use of the exceptionality of Pheidias’ work, Dio proposed the making and worshipping of statues as a way to approach the essence of the gods, alternative to the three usual channels: poetical, philosophical, and political. The discourse is full of reflections “concerning the nature of the gods in general, and especially that of the ruler of the universe” (27), which gave rise to allusions to the contemporary state of affairs in Greece and, as we will see later on, to unspoken references to the Roman rule. Apart from these general reflections on divinity and supreme power, there is an important lesson to be learned from Dio’s Olympian Oration. From Pheidias’ lips we read a long and passionate defence of the Greek way of representing and understanding the gods: 37

See among others Plutarch’s treatises Precepts of statecraft, To an uneducated ruler, A philosopher ought to converse especially with men in power. 38 P. Desideri, “City and country in Dio” in Swain 2000, op. cit. (n. 11), 101. 39 Desideri, op. cit. (n. 38), 100. 40 Desideri 1980, op. cit. (n. 18).

38

Elena Muñiz Grijalvo Men … attributing to God a human body as a vessel to contain intelligence and rationality, in their lack of a better illustration, and in their perplexity seeking to indicate that which is invisible and unportrayable by means of something portrayable and visible, using the function of a symbol (59).

On the one hand, anthropomorfic representations of god are a symbolic way of approaching divinity which, in Pheidias-Dio’s view, is the correct way to do it. Once again Greek religious options are presented as superior to any other cultic choice to honour the gods: “doing so better than certain barbarians, who are said to represent the divine by animals” (59). On the other hand, Pheidias’ work of art – the Olympian Zeus – appears as the highest expression of this approach to the gods. The representation of gods as humans had already been endorsed by Homeric authority41, but it was actually its artistic quality what sublimated it and transformed it in a real way to grant access to the gods: 25. Of all the statues which are upon the earth the most beautiful and the most dear to the gods, Pheidias having, as we are told, taken his pattern from Homer’s poesy (…) 53. You by the power of your art first conquered and united Hellas and then all others by means of this wondrous presentment, showing forth so marvellous and dazzling a conception, that none of those who have beheld it could any longer easily form a different one.

Contemplating Pheidias’ work was therefore an occasion to admire his skill, but also to feel captivated by Zeus’ power. And it was also a way to acknowledge the superiority of that very Greek way of worshiping the gods: not only did the Greeks know how to do it, but they also dominated the technique to perfection. In Dio’s work, Greece was the right interpreter of religion. Insisting in the exceptional dignity and antiquity of Greek religion was the second avenue that was developed to show that the Greeks deserved a special position within the empire for religious reasons. It was again Dio of Prusa one of the authors who repeatedly came back to that argument. To the Rhodians, for instance, he remembered that “are you honoured by that strain in your customs which is antique and Hellenic”42. It was worth the public or private expense if it was aimed to make Greek reputation grow. It is interesting to note that Dio did not always advise to spend too much money on religious festivals43. But Dio the moralist was not the same as Dio the political writer. When it had to do with offering a bright image of Greek religion for those outside the civic community, he was prepared to accept lavish displays of “dignity”44. The argument of dignity and antiquity, however, was more intensely developed by Plutarch. He usually disliked all sorts of foreign novelties, because when new rites were introduced in the Greek poleis – especially ridiculous or disgusting 41 42

43 44

Dio 12.62; 73. Rhodian Oration 163. To the people of Alexandria he said: “You Alexandrians could present no more beautiful and surprising spectacle than by being yourselves sober and attentive. For indeed it is a supernatural and truly solemn and impressive sight when the countenance of the assembly is gentle and composed” (29). Quet 1981, op. cit. (n. 12), 42–44; nor did Plutarch. M.–H. Quet, “Rhétorique, culture et politique, sur le discours XLVIII de Dion de Pruse dans les moralia de Plutarque”, Dialogues d’histoire ancienne 4 (1978), 51–117.

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rites –, “the god-given ancestral dignity of our religion” was transgressed (166AB). That “we”, which stands for “the Greeks”, makes it clear in my opinion that Plutarch was probably speaking about religion within the context of Greek identity. In that context, dignity was indissolubly linked to antiquity. So for Plutarch both qualities were a significant part of the Greek character, not to be put aside by foreign rites or wild philosophical speculation. That is why he manifested himself contrary to too much thinking: You are altogether violating our inviolable belief in the gods when you demand an account and proof of each of them. Our ancient traditional faith is good enough. It is impossible to assert or discover evidence more palpable than this faith “whatever subtle twist’s invented by keen wit”. This faith is a basis, as it were, a common foundation of religion; if confidence and settled usage are disturbed or shaken at a single point, the whole edifice is enfeebled and discredited (756B).

Dio’s and Plutarch’s arguments about the wisdom in Greek religion and about its admirable dignity and antiquity, were basic in the construction of Greece as the cornerstone of Graeco-Roman values45. The extreme importance of traditional religion were one of the reasons why Greece as a whole – and in particular the Greek elites – should appear among the leaders of the Roman empire. But the Greek writers did not stop at that. In the process of constructing a Greek identity from which the Greek elites benefited in the imperial context, they gave birth to a powerful tool in the hands of the Roman rulers. I will conclude by showing how Greek religion was also conceived by Greek writers as an instrument to guarantee Roman control. 3. RELIGION IN GREEK IDENTITY AS AN INSTRUMENT FOR ROMAN DOMINION The authors and the works that we have been considering up to this point do not include frequent direct references to Rome. However, explicit mention was not necessary: the presence of Rome may be read throughout their works between the lines. Above all, Roman rule constituted the general context of the discourses. So, as has been put recently, “Rome is both nowhere and everywhere”46. Even though the use of religion in the discourses was mainly intended to give advantage to the Greeks, unavoidably it had to take Rome into account. Among other things, because there was no chance for any ideological device to succeed, unless it brought also advantage to the masters of the empire. Accordingly, literature produced a picture of Greek religion which could be also very useful for Rome in two different ways. Let us see how. 45 Desideri 1998, op. cit. (n. 6). 46 Referring to Roman presence in the Greek novel, see S. Schwartz, “Rome in the Greek novels”, Arethusa 36.3 (2003), 391. The same argument in C. Connors, “Chariton’s Syracuse and its Histories of Empire”, in M. Paschalis-S. Frangoulidis (eds.), Space in the ancient novel (Groningen 2002), 14: “Just because Chariton’s novel doesn’t mention Rome doesn’t mean that it is not about – or at least a response to – Rome”.

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We have already seen how Greek religion was presented as superior to any other. Its excellence was so natural, that it could only be acknowledged by all the people within and outside the empire. So the Greek part of “Graeco-Roman religion” could gain the admiration of all Romans’ subjects and, eventually, of the barbarian people alike. From this point of view, its ecumenical possibilities were almost endless. It did not only have to do with the typically Stoic way of understanding the gods. Of course that was also an originally Greek device, based on the idea of the essential unity of humankind and, as a consequence, of the logic of an unique rule – Rome. There are hundreds of examples of the Stoic approach to religion and how interesting it could be for Roman rule. Let us take just one: in his Olympian Oration, Dio stated that it exists just one possible way to understand the nature of the gods: (27) Concerning the nature of the gods in general, and especially that of the ruler of the universe, first and foremost an idea regarding him and a conception of him common to the whole human race, to the Greeks and to the barbarians alike, a conception that is inevitable and innate in every creature endowed with reason47.

But Stoicism was not identified with Greekness anymore, so hardly could it function as a feature of Greek identity or be of benefit to the Greeks. Instead, Greek religion could be presented as a force to bind together the whole of the empire. Its superiority was so undisputed, that it aroused everybody’s piety. Again in his Olympian Oration, Dio addresses these vehement words to Pheidias: (53) You by the power of your art first conquered and united Hellas and then all others by means of this wondrous presentment, showing forth so marvellous and dazzling a conception, that none of those who have beheld it could any longer easily form a different one.

The spectacular statue of the Olympian Zeus impressed everyone, either Greek or barbarian. But not only the Greeks could enjoy the benefits of that marvel: Romans could too, because – as we have seen – the Greeks had ensured that Greek religion was bound up with the idea of empire. They had created the category of “Graeco-Roman” religion, and thus the Olympian Zeus was the patrimony of Greeks and Romans alike, with all the benefits that it could bring for the cohesion of the empire. Non-Greek or non-Roman people could do nothing but joining them in the Greek way of praising the gods. Apart from this clear service to the Roman cause, the image of Greek religion that was produced by Dionysius, Dio or Plutarch helped even to rule Greece itself for a variety of reasons. Firstly, because it made easier for Rome to understand Greece. All the conflicting feelings that Greece aroused among the Romans – admi47

Also Plutarch, On the fortune of Alexander 329 AB, quoting Zeno: “Moreover, the much-admired Republic of Zeno, the founder of the Stoic sect, may be summed up in this one main principle: that all the inhabitants of this world of ours should not live differentiated by their respective rules of justice into separate cities and communities, but that we should consider all men to be of one community and one polity, and that we should have a common life and an order common to us all, even as a herd that feeds together and shares the pasturage of a common field”.

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ration and a certain feeling of inferiority, but also disdain and even anger48–, made it sometimes difficult to deal with it. In a way, Greece remained a mystery for Rome: so learned and powerful in the past, so weak and corrupted in the present. Any image that could make Greece be assimilated into Rome, or that could make it more comprehensible for Roman standards, could help. The image of an organic and elitist Greek religion might have played among others that role. So, when Dionysius described Romulus in his capacity of religious designer, “in all of which he followed the best customs in use among the Greeks” (18), or when Romulus imitated the Greeks in the way of appointing the priests, unlike those “others” who “generally choose in a careless and inconsiderate manner those who are to preside over religious matters” (21), he was putting the place of religion in Greece on an equal footing with the place it had within Roman society. It was easier to accept the close relationship between the two of them, as long as their perspective about who should manage the religious life of the cities were similar. Of course, in this case as in others literature was only a reflection of what was really happening in the Greek cities of the empire. From Republican times on, Rome had imposed her “ideas of good practice and administration”49, as well as in religious matters. Woolf has pointed out a number of measures which should guarantee “the proper integration of temples within civic structures”50. Further developments were taking place within the poleis, for instance the transformation of democratic priesthoods into lifetime tenures, which may be interpreted within the context of the increasing oligarchization of civic life51. No doubt Rome was in the background of all those changes: they made the Greek world more similar to Rome, while at the same time they maintained “the agreed set of symbolic structures across the Empire”52. Real changes had therefore its counterpart in literature. Greek authors elaborated on religion as a feature of Greek identity also to guarantee that Rome would understand and accept the special role of Greece within the empire. Secondly, religious symbols could also convey very powerfully the idea that Greece would never be a source of trouble for Rome. It was again Pheidias in the Olympian Oration, who explained that what he had sculpted was “peaceful and altogether gentle, such as befits the guardian of a faction-free and concordant Hellas” (74). Greek religion could only support peace and good order, as Dio remembers in his oration to the Nicomedians: (19) When peace is brought about, we do all those things which are not only most pleasant for mortals but also tokens of happiness – we bedeck ourselves with garlands, offer sacrifice, and hold high festival.

48

G. Woolf, “Becoming Roman, staying Greek”, Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society 40 (1994), 116–143. 49 Woolf 1994, op. cit. (n. 48), 124. 50 Woolf 1994, op. cit. (n. 48). 51 E. Muñiz Grijalvo, “Elites and religious change in Roman Athens”, Numen 52.2 (2005), 255– 282. 52 M. Beard-J. North-S. Price (eds.), Religions of Rome, vol. 1 (Cambridge 1998), 361.

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Thirdly, while it gave the impression of a Greece totally subjected to Roman rule, literature could not avoid to show the pride of being Greek. The Greek religious tradition was a key element to avoid humiliation. They could have been defeated, but theirs would remain forever a higher religion. There is a splendid example of this in a sacred law from Stratonicea, in which Zeus and Hecate were honoured, among other reasons, because of “the miracles that they have done in favour of the eternal domination of the Romans, our lords”53. Romans may have won the war, but their power was sustained by the higher authority of the Greek gods. It is interesting to note that the Romans were probably well disposed towards these naïve tokens of snobbery. From the point of view of the winner, it is always much better to defeat and dominate a powerful people than a weak one. So, the more the prestige of Greece was acknowledged, the more powerful Rome appeared to the eyes of the rest of the Empire. Dio did his best to remind to the Romans about it: For you must not suppose that the Romans are so stupid and ignorant as to choose that none of their subjects should be independent or honourable but would rather rule over slaves54.

This idealization of Greece, orchestrated by the Greeks, was allowed and even favoured by Rome, as it helped to shape her own identity as a ruler. It may be helpful to remember here the notion of “alterité incluse”, applied to the construction of Roman identity from an imaginary Greece, which both Greeks and Romans had brought to life55. For the reasons we have seen, Greek religion played an important role in the making of that imaginary Greece, which was not aimed at remaining in an imaginary level. It constituted one of the bases of the Greek elite and the Roman rule in the Greek poleis of the empire.

53 54 55

F. Sokolowski, Lois sacrées de l’Asie Minore (Paris 1955), nº 69, l. 3. Oratio 31.111. And later in the same discourse: “All these manners lend your city dignity, they all cause you to be looked upon as superior to the others, for all these customs you are admired, you are loved” (163). See Hutton, op. cit. (n. 28), 43. F. Dupont, “Rome ou l’altérité incluse”, Rue Descartes (2002), 41–51; see also V. Huet, “Et si les Romains avaient inventé la Grèce?”, Mètis 3 (2005), 7–15.

HELLAS, ROMAN PROVINCE1 Juan Manuel Cortés Copete Cassius Dio has not been held in high esteem by the modern historian dedicated to Classical Antiquity. At least since the end of the 19th century, when Schwartz, in his article in R. E., attacked the historiographic competence of the Bithynian senator2, Cassius Dio’s Historia Romana has been, for the expert eye, a last resource or a necessary evil. Cassius Dio is only brought to the foreground in the absence of other, more reliable testimonies, from Livy, Tacitus, Suetonius and, even, of the Historia Augusta, with all its problems. There are evident reasons external to the work of Dio that justify such disdain. The fact that most of his work is now lost, and that what remains is mainly known through the use made of it by Byzantine authors like Zonaras and Xiphilinus, does not favour an adequate evaluation of his capacity as a historian. This appraisal does not benefit from a dearth of reference to sources, the suspicion of occasionally limiting himself to rewriting his text from a primary source, or the problems with his chronology and discrepancies with other documentation closer to the narrated events. Dio’s intellectual links with the Second Sophistic, his atticistic language, and the predominantly rhetoric character of his original texts reinforce this sensation of artifice, along with the purely literary tone of his creation. The belief that “human nature” is historical cause and his interest in omens and divine intervention repulse today’s historian. Finally, if we consider his explicit intention of establishing himself in history after his retirement from public life, his literary intent, and his endeavour to gain eternal remembrance for his name, one must inevitably recognize the limitations of the author of Historia Romana. Nevertheless, it is now over fifty years since a revaluation of the work of Dio commenced, allowing for a more balanced and fair-handed evaluation3. As a result, the limitations of the Quellenforschung have been on display and the rediscovery of Dio’s originality in composition has been highlighted. The insistence in the parallelisms with Thucydides, both stylistic and methodological, makes him a more profound historian, concerned for the causes and human psychology. Lastly, the revaluation of the influence of rhetoric4, in his pathetic appeal and, especially, in the use 1 2 3

4

This paper has been written with the support of the research projects “Griegos en el Imperio: La invención de una categoría política” (HAR2008–02760), and “Adriano: Imágenes de un Imperio” (HAR2011–26381), both sponsored by the Government of Spanish. E. Schwart, R. E. III 2 (1899), cc. 1648–1722 (s. v., Cassius 40). E. Gabba, “Sulla Storia romana di Cassio Dione”, RSI 67 (1955), 289–333. F. Millar, A Study of Cassius Dio (Oxford 1966). A. W. Lintott, “Cassius Dio and the History of the Late Roman Republic”, ANRW II 34.3 (Berlin-New York 1977), 2497–2523. A. M. Gowing, The Triumviral Narratives of Appian and Cassius Dio (Ann Arbor 1992), 39–51. S. Swain, Hellenism and Empire (Oxford 1996), 401–408.

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of its instruments (particularly antithesis and discourses), has revealed his efforts to confront the interpretation of past events. It is nowadays commonly agreed that Dio validates his role as a great historian in his books dedicated to Augustus5, 51 through 56. A double historical accident endorses this positive reading: the almost complete preservation of the Dionean text and the lack of other ancient accounts which may rival it. The loss of Livy’s work, Tacitus’s reticence to study Augustus’s reign, the practically total absence of the works of further Greek and Latin historians from the period, render Suetonius, whose weaknesses need not be further underlined, as the only rival. However, neither one of these two favourable circumstances would have sufficed to generate a forthrightly positive estimation of Dio. In 1966 F. Millar6 defended the factors that made Dio original and profound in his narration of the reign of Augustus: his personal implication and his political experience. The relation that Dio managed to establish between his present, the last Antonines, the opening years of the 3rd century and the rule of the Severan dynasty, and the history of Augustus’s reign is the key to his new style and, above all, of the correct historical analysis. Dio proves himself totally aware of how the battle of Actium implied a new beginning for the History of Rome7. At that time, all power was concentrated in the hands of one individual and, yet again, “a true monarchy” was installed in Rome, even if constitutional forms may have masked it. The historian makes the same statement twice again: firstly, in 29 BC, subsequent to the subjugation of Egypt and in introducing the Agrippa-Maecenas debate between monarchy and democracy; second, during senate sessions held in the first days of the month of January, 27 BC, which served to found a first institutional form for the new regime8. Undoubtedly, the protagonists of those episodes were in some way aware of the Copernican turn that the history of Rome was undergoing; Dio, owing to the passage of time, understood its irreversible nature. In this way, Dio ascertains a direct connection between his historical present and the settlements of the first emperor. This explains why many political and institutional measures taken by Augustus are seen in time as direct causes of the imperial regime in the 3rd century, and of its institutions, in its virtue and its vice. Occasionally, the historian goes as far as establishing the half-way points of the political and institutional evolution, which, one way or another, was already pre-determined. It is thus reflected in the Debate between Agrippa and Maecenas, and remarkably so in the discourse of the latter9. 5

6 7 8 9

P. M. Swan, “How Cassius Dio composed his Augustan books: Four studies”, ANRW II 34.3 (Berlin-New York 1977), 2524–2557. M. Reinhold – P. M. Swan, “Cassius Dio’s Assessment of Augustus”, in K. A. Raaflaub, M. Toher, Between Republic and Empire (Berkeley 1990), 155– 173. F. Millar, A Study of Cassius Dio (Oxford 1966), 83–102. C. D. 51.1.1. B. Manuwald, Cassius Dio und Augustus (Wiesbaden 1979), 77–102. 29 BC: 52.1.1. 27 BC: 53.17.1. M.-L. Freyburger-Galland, Aspects du vocabulaire politique et institutionnel de Dion Cassius (Paris 1997), 139–141. U. Espinosa, Debate Agrippa-Mecenas en Dion Cassio. Respuesta senatorial a la crisis del Imperio Romano en época severiana (Madrid 1982).

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This task of interpreting the reign of Augustus through the reality of the 3rd century has generated, however, a negative discernment on Dio’s historiographic expertise. The accusation of anachronism and, therefore, of confusion abound in commentaries on his work. F. Millar identified a simple method of interpretation against it10: when Dio employs present tenses in the narration of the reign of Augustus he is projecting towards the future the measures of the first emperor. Hence, the English scholar made evident how Dio was able to distinguish the different moments of the political and institutional evolution, not confusing the reality of the 1st century with its posterior development. Consequently, Dio seems conscious of the constitutional changes that have taken place over the centuries since Augustus, while continuously reasserting his main thesis: the institutional and political development of the empire was already comprised in the measures adopted by the first emperor. One of the best examples of this way of understanding his work may be in the review made in book 55 of the distribution of the legions. It runs as follows: “Now that I have once been led into giving an account of the legions, I shall speak of the other legions also which exist today and tell of their enlistment by the emperors subsequent to Augustus, my purpose being that, if any one desires to learn about them, the statement of all the facts in a single portion of my book may provide him easily with the information11.” Next, starting with Nero, he enumerates the newly recruited legions. The distribution of provinces between the emperor and the people represent for Dio one of the key elements in Augustan organization that persisted in the 3rd century12. The importance of this measure partly derived from the deficiencies and failures or previous divisions, those made by the generals of the Republic who aspired to personal power13. Above all, it was the distribution between people and emperor which had proven as the best institutional solution to the political problems derived from the instalment of the autocracy over the Roman oligarchy. The transcendence of this measure justified the long explanatory digression on the reasons for the assignment of the provinces to the Caesar or the People and its diverse mechanisms of government, in addition to the enumeration, with the official name, of the ones that fell under the authority of either the emperor or the people. From this list, still problematic in many facets, one section in particular calls our attention: among the provinces of the people, surprisingly, the following one is listed: “Hellas with Epirus”, Ἑλλὰς μετὰ τῆς Ἠπείρου14. A Roman province with the name of Hellas never existed. As it is commonly known, the province occupying the southernmost part of the Balkan Peninsula was called Achaia, and so it remained even after the Diocletian reforms. Why, then, did Dio choose to distance himself from his own norm and neglect to deliver the official designation, the offi10 11 12 13 14

F. Millar, A study of Cassius Dio (Oxford 1966), 92. C. D. 55.24.1. C. D. 53.12–15. Provincial partitions as a matter of control among the triumviri: 48.1.2–3. M. Gowing, The triumviral narratives of Appian and Cassius Dio (Ann Arbor 1992), 135–6. C. D. 53.12.4.

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cial name given to the Roman province, Achaia? The answer may possibly be in simple imprudence or a mistake on the part of the author, but this explanation should only be considered after discarding any other likely rationales. First, the verification will demand an analysis of the section in question according to the historiographic principles attributed to Dio, as they appear above. The second part of this study, my proposal, will attempt to identify some of the steps in the historical, institutional and cultural evolution that led to propose not merely the identification of Hellas with a Roman province, but the assumption of Hellas as a political reality by Rome. The examination of the possible causes for the anomalous designation applied by Dio to the Greek province begins with rhetoric and the Second Sophistic: linguistic purism and atticism15. Dio does in effect maintain this artful fashion that intended to restore the educated language of the 5th and 4th centuries BC as a canon for literary language. Bearing this in mind, authors and erudites, linguists, grammarians and lexicographers made an effort to put into use long forgotten sintactic structures and to draw on words located in the texts by Plato, Demosthenes, Isocrates and those akin. This literary reaction may have originated in the desire to break away from the evolution of the common language, even in its learned register, but was also destined to avoid the contamination of Latin, which abundantly appears in other texts of a lesser literary profile16. Thus, it could be argued that Dio may have wanted to shun the use of the term Achaia, not only for its disconnect with the classic tradition but because it could be considered a latin loanword denominating a Roman province. In exchange, he would have introduced the irreproachably Greek term Hellas. In spite of this, it is the very same Dio who refutes this possibility. The Bithynian author has no objection in exploiting the term Achaia elsewhere to refer to the province. In book 55, 27, 6 he recalls the death of the ὁ τῆς Ἀχαΐας ἂρχων; in 58, 4–5, he lists it, together with Macedonia, under the orders of imperial governors; in 60, 24, 1, lastly, he brings to mind the return of the province to the people by Claudius, again alongside Macedonia. It is evident that Dio was aware of the oficial, Roman name of the province and that his atticist intention does not correspond a bias against its use in writing. In contrast, the explanation is not as plain in other cases. Following Greek tradition, he systematically refuses to employ the name of Moesia, replacing it with the Greek Μυσία and generating confusion with the region in Asia Minor17. Linguistic options could be further complicated, as in the case of the Rhine frontier. He refers to the inhabitants on the left margin as Galátai, those known in Latin as Galli; the ones settling the right bank are habitually designated as Kelti in his works, though he knew, as a Roman, that their name was Germani18: to the region he grants 15 16 17 18

S. Swain, Hellenism and Empire (Oxford 1996), 17–64. A. C. Cassio, “La lingua greca come lingua universale”, in I Greci. Storia, cultura, arte, Società, 2.III (Torino 1998), 1001–1005. D. C. 51.27.2–3 for the name of the people and the region; 55.29.3: governor of Moesia. D. C.: 53.12.6: Κελτῶν γάρ τινες‚ οὓς δὴ Γερμανοὺς καλοῦμεν. C. M. Wells, The German policy of Augustus (Oxford 1972), 18–30.

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the name of Keltiké, although he refers to the Roman provinces included therein as Germania. Several conclusions may be derived from the quoted passages. Dio, under the influence of the sophistic movement, makes an effort to maintain purity and classicism in his language; as a Roman senator, however, this is not an obstacle in the occassions when he needs to refer to imperial institutional realities and does use or transcribe Latin names, as in the case of Germania. Furthermore, there is no room for the possibility that his intention was to employ the name of a region, Hellas, to avoid the term Achaia; this is precisely so because it is in his catalog of the provinces of the emperor that he uses Germania, in opposition to the name generally used for the region, Keltiké. Consequently, the use of de Ἑλλὰς was not based on stylistic preference. The list of provinces present in book 53, 12 in total, abounds in easy to locate anacronisms. From the listing of 11 provinces of the people, Africa, Asia, Macedonia, Sicily, Crete, Cyrene, Pontus and Bithynia, and Sardinia correspond to provinces assigned to the government of the people in 27 BC, with the caveat that control of Sardinia, at the beginning of the new era, was ceded to the princeps to assist in the fight against the pirates19. Of the rest, the least that can be said is that Dio brings events forward in time. Numidia is created as a province in the early 2nd century; Dalmatia was the name given by Claudius to the Augustan province of Illyricum; and the Baetica in Hispania was not created until 16 or 13 BC20, when a new readjustment of the frontiers of the Iberian Peninsula was made. Further delving into the details is unnecesary. Carelessness, as it was stated above, is not the origin of our author’s choice; it is, rather, his awareness of the milieu of the 3rd century as direct offspring of Augustus’s work, even if it took over two hundred years to reach its definitive shape. In addition, and in favor of Dio, one need admit that he respects Roman institutional reality, even though he does bring forward new names and new provinces: except in the case of our discussion, the names of provinces always correspond to the official one and are meticulously quoted. There is no indication of a lackadaisical composition, though a methodology derived from his intention has forced modern erudites to filter information. This explanation, however, may be valid to account for the case of Achaia and its identification as Hellas, even under this tendency of compression of historical time. In simple terms, a province called Hellas that substituted for Achaia never existed. It is uncomplicated to find examples in the literature of the times of Dio, late 2nd and early 3rd centuries, of the endurance of the official name21. After gover-

19 20

P. Meloni, La Sardegna romana (Sassari 1980), 130–132. M. P. Speidel, “The Singulares of Africa and the establishment of Numidia as a province”, Historia 22 (1973), 125–127. M. Pavan, Ricerche sulla provincia romana di Dalmazia (Venecia 1958), 10. 21 Some inscriptions of the province of Achaia that contain the official name; Corinth VIII 2, 65, 66, 132 (in the time of Augustus); IG V 1, 1172 (ca. 100 d. C.) and 533 (172); Corinth VIII 3136 (102–114); IG IV 588 (172–180 d. C.).

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nor Diocletian’s reforms, now praeses, it still remained prouinciae Achaiae22. Therefore, the intention behind this dance of names in the Dionean text cannot be in the change of designation of the province: this is not an anacronism as in previous cases, where later terms were brought to the text in tribute to the work of Augustus. At this point it becomes necessary to consider the option of Dio’s sources having contained a designation blunder. As hinted above, the likelihood of a primary source existing from which Dio purely summarized from needs to be discarded. If any veracity is to be granted to his own statements, it took Dio 10 years to compile the information that would require another 12 to record23: an excessive amount of time to read and rewrite one single source. Furthermore, it would be harder to identify the diverse origins of his news. Dio, following in Tacitus’s wake, was conscious of the problems entailed in writing history under the emperors; to a certain degree, the public registers that had nourished the work of historians had now become useless24. The cause for this decay of public sources of information was twofold: first, the secret of decisions and, then, its transformation into mere instruments of imperial propaganda.To further complicate matters, Dio, as is the case in the majority of Ancient authors, generally fails to quote his sources, limiting the possibilities of locating them25. Nonetheless, he admited to having used Augustus’s autobiography26, and he may as well have been able to stumble on precise information on what actually was discussed during those sessions in 27 BC. One cannot dispense with the option that, due to his position as Senator, Dio may have been able to gain access to the minutes of the meetings of the Senate; if this be the case, precise information could have been extracted from them to compose the chapters dedicated to provincial organization. There exists yet another approach, one rendering better results: Strabo’s work. As it is well known, the Geography was completed in two stages, 15 years apart: the first part was finished by 2 BC. It was years later, during Tiberius’s early years, when he undertook a general revision, introducing new and more recent references27. Those chapters in book 17 dedicated to the ordering of Roman provinces are owed to this review28. Similarities with the text of Dio are more than evident. Provincial division of 14–15 BC is attributed to the moment in which Augustus received τὴν προστασίαν τῆς ἡγεμονίας, while Dio calls it τὴν προστασίαν τῶν 22 23

Corinth VIII 2, 23. C. D. 72.23.5. C. Letta, “La compossizione dell’opera di Cassio Dione: cronologia e sfondo storico-politico” in E. Gabba (ed.), Ricerche di storiografia greca di etá romana (Pisa 1979), 11–189. 24 C. D. 53.19. Tac., Ann. 1.1. F. Millar, A Study of Cassius Dio (Oxford 1966), 34–38. 25 It has been suggested as a common source for Dio and Tacitus, with the impossibility of proving it, Aufidus Bassus: D. Flach, Tacitus in der Tradition der antiken Geschichtsschreibung (Gottingen 1973), 58. 26 Or some other document, as Dio cites Octavius, not Augustus, as author: 44.35.3. 27 Strabon, Géographie. Tome V. Livre VIII (Texte établi et traduit par R. Baladié) (Paris 2003), 5. 28 Strabo 17.3.24–25 (C. 839,10–840,29). St. Radt, Strabons Geographika, Band 8. Buch XIV– XVII: Kommentar (Göttingen 2009), 549–551.

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κιονῶν πᾶσαν29. The reasons given for the distribution between the emperor and the people are uniform in both authors: those provinces already pacified went to the people; those requiring armed vigilance, for internal or external reasons, to the emperor. Strabo also reflects the situation of the provinces at the end of the reign of Augustus, after the readjustments that followed the first settlement of 27. This explains why he is rightly informed of Baetica and Narbonensis, founded a decade later. Conversely, when he wrote his text the reordering of the Danubian provinces had still not taken place, as it occurred in the first year of the government of Tiberius. Following the above reasoning, it has been rightly put forth that the information was obtained from the Breviarium totius imperii, part of the political testament left by Augustus30. Even if similarities between the passages from Strabo and Dio abound, as is the case, there is no possible way to discern whether the Bithynian historian was aware of the oficial document, which might have been archived among the acta senatus, or he used Strabo or another common and intermediate source. That being said, it proceeds to compare the news on the Greek province in both authors. Where Dio wrote Ἑλλὰς μετὰ τῆς Ἠπείρου, Strabo31 entered ἑβδόμην δ᾽ Ἀχαΐαν μέχρι Θετταλίας καὶ Αἰτωλῶν καὶ Ἀκαρνάνων καί τινων Ἠπειρωτικῶν ἐθνῶν ὅσα τῇ Μακεδονίᾳ προσώριστο. Unfortunately, Strabo’s text presents some inconsistency and vagueness that probably require of certain corrections for a better understanding. Bowersock’s proposed option might be the most accurate32. He substituted μέχρι for μετὰ, preposition used by Strabo (and Dio) to describe provinces composed of several regions, and included a negative in the reference made to Macedonia. The text would read as follows: ἑβδόμην δ᾽ Ἀχαΐαν μετὰ Θετταλίας καὶ Αἰτωλῶν καὶ Ἀκαρνάνων καί τινων Ἠπειρωτικῶν ἐθνῶν ὅσα ῇ Μακεδονίᾳ προσώριστο, “the eighth province is Achaia with Thessaly, the Etholians, the Acarnanians and some Epirote peoples, those not included in Macedonia”33 Two aspects are worth highlighting. First, and truly evident, would be the varied composition of the province; to the Roman observer, it did not consist of a unique, homogenous region neither in culture nor in its geography. The province founded by Augustus was a conglomerate comprising the aggregation of some geopolitical regions and peoples. This last item is an absolutely singular phenomenon because, even if there are some provinces formed of several regions, with some even separated by the sea, Strabo never describes them by means of the peoples that inhabit them. In effect, in the context of administrative organization he only mentions the ethne, to refer to the peoples situated outside the province of Asia and, thus, outside direct Roman administration, though not of its empire: καὶ Ἀσίαν τὴν ἐντὸς Ἅλυος καὶ τοῦ Ταύρου πλὴν Γαλατῶν καὶ τῶν ὑπὸ Ἀμύντα γενομένων ἐθνῶν. In short, for Strabo and, maybe, for his official source (the very same Au29 30 31 32 33

Strabo17.3.25. C. D. 53.12.1. G. Cresci, Ecumene augustea. Una politica per il consenso (Rome 1993), 65, 80. Strabo 17.3.25. G. W. Bowersock, “Zur Geschichte der römischen Thessaliens”, RhM 108 (1965), 277–289. One last reference on the history of this text: F. Lozano, Un dios entre los hombres (Barcelona 2010), 103–108, with a series of diverse proposals and references.

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gustus) the government of the Greek territory was not exerted over well defined geopolitical realities such as Crete or Cyrene (ὀγδόην δὲ Κρήτην μετὰ τῆς Κυρηναίας) or Pontus and Bithynia (δεκάτην δὲ Βιθυνίαν μετὰ τῆς Προποντίδος καὶ τοῦ Πόντου τινῶν μερῶν), but over the region of Achaia and a series peoples with their own ethnic identity. The second feature is even more obvious. Dio could not have borrowed the term Hellas from Strabo since the geographer, in the 1st century, alluded to it with the official Roman designation, Achaia. It is also correct to state that Dio was conscious that the province was an assorted reality, but his perception had changed regarding Strabo’s news. Then, in the 3rd century, he was adding to a first concept, that of Hellas, a second geopolitical reality, μετὰ τῆς Ἠπείρου, and not only an assembly of peoples. That province, also in Historia Romana, was being ranked equal to the other two double provinces, Crete and Cyrene, Pontus and Bithynia. The conclusion to this first part of the analysis seems to leave Dio in a weak position. We have thus far rejected as valid causes for the anomaly in Greek provincial designation the intentionality to return to a style of archaisms and Atticism, the anachronism that supported shifting later events to previous dates, or the possibility of being the source of information the one containing the “error”. It might be necessary to admit that Dio, simply, made a mistake. Possibly drawn by colloquial language, as he nowhere else did in these passages, he names Hellas what was officially called Achaia. It could, certainly, be considered an obvious mistake. Before admitting oversight as the root of the problem, however, one last rationalization needs to be explored: a variety of anachronism somewhat unexpected; an anachronism that does not exchange the later and official name of the province for the first one held when Augustus created it. It would be an anachronism that traded terms in a different intellectual category: the official name exchanged for reality or its sociopolitical and cultural composition; Achaia for Hellas. To come to the point, the option I would like to put forward is the recognition of Hellas as a political reality and its full identification with the province of Achaia in a process that extended between the reign of Augustus and the 3rd century. If this were case, major advances took place during the reign of the Julio-Claudian dynasty. * On the preface to book 8, which initiates a series of three books dedicated to Greece, Strabo admits to the enormous diversity of the regions and peoples that inhabit it to, subsequently, describe the South of the Balkan Peninsula as a succession of peninsulas, from Thessaly to the Peloponnese, which he refers to as the “acropolis of the whole of Hellas”34. Even Macedonia was part of Strabo’s Hellas, albeit previously discussed in the central books of his geography, dedicated to the European Greece. Unquestionably, Greece constituted a unit for the geographer, an item that could be represented under a same name and, at the same time, so varied that it escaped a 34

Strabo 8.1.1–3. R. Baladié, Le Péloponnèse de Strabon: Étude de géographie historique (Paris 1980), 1–14.

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unitary analysis. Not very different must have been the perception of the Romans of the time35. Strabo’s own description in book 17 is a reflection of this condition of administrative aggregation. I believe that Augustus, when it came to the organization of the provincial distribution, shared that vision. The province, at the time when the new possessor of Roman power proceeded to reorganize the domains and its administration, still was fundamentally the area of execution of a magistrate cum imperio, and not a territory, with which it would be certainly identified afterward36. It is true that the semantic change had already started and that in those provinces where, for historical, geographic and cultural reasons, identification was simpler, the process was well underway. Sicily, being an island; Asia, for its origin as a testamentary legacy; Pontus, as a recently annexed kingdom; et cetera, are evident instances of this. Nonetheless, in the words of Nicolet, “cette notion de territoire n’es jamais première: elle n’est qu’un corolaire, qu’une conséquence de la mission confiée37.” The position of Augustus in the matter of Greece has not reached a consensus among modern researchers. From the unquestionable defender of Hellenism against oriental barbarism, since the mid-20th century a new interpretation, negative in his relation with the Greek world, started to gain ground. The Dux of Latin West and victor in the East at Actium developed into a harsh governor against whose action European Greek opposed with as scarce weapons as they possessed, namely propaganda. In addition, in recent decades, some of the effective measures taken by Augustus in Greece have been assessed in their roughness. Nicopolis, Patras, the centuriations, the reform of the Amphictyony, changes in the constitutions of cities, money exactions or the urban interventions in cities, including Athens itself, have been seen as works of the victor, not as the benevolent acts of the protector of Greek civilization38. In spite of this, A. Spawforth’s most recent work adds a new twist to return, at least initially, to the image of a positive relationship between Augustus and Greece39. The thoroughness of his study favours some clarification: the novelty in the English author’s study lies on having perceived that it never was a matter of the defence of the difference, or of Greek cultural supremacy, but of the imposition of an interpretation of Hellenism that coincided with the ideals of the Roman cultural revolution, in terms used by A. Wallace-Hadrill40. With this goal in mind, he made use of Old Greece, identified in some of its moral values with Athens and Sparta; these cities became the focus of imperial attention and, therefore too, of the favour of the emperors. 35

Maybe also that from other modern authors: D. Rousset, “La cité et son territoire dans la province d’Achaïe et la notion de ‘Grèce romaine’”, Annales HSS (2004), 382. 36 W. Eck, “Provinz – Ihre Definition unter politisch-administrativem Aspekt”, Die Verwaltung des römischen Reiches in der Hohen Kaiserzeit. Bd. 2 (Basel 1998), 167–185. 37 C. Nicolet, L’inventaire du monde, Paris (1988), 205. 38 Also discussed in J. M. Cortés Copete, “Polis romana. Hacia un nuevo modelo para los griegos en el Imperio”, SHHA 23 (2005), 413–436, where we may find references to this researcher debate. 39 A. J. S. Spawforth, Greece and the Augustan cultural revolution (Cambridge 2012). 40 A. Wallace-Hadrill, Rome’s cultural revolution (London 2008).

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In spite of the above, it is our intention to prove that Augustus never had a unitary and integrated vision of Hellas. “The official Roman narrative of Hellenism” built by Augustus, as Spawforth would put it, did not require of a politico-administrative reality named Hellas. He could do with only two free cities: Athens and Sparta. The operation of support and recovery of Hellenism had been instigated by the government and intended to offer an ideological support for the domination of the East, being profoundly selective with the past and the traditions that were rescued and reinforced. That selection was determined in Rome for and from its particular interests and mainly had Athens and Sparta as its focal point. Both cities were considered free cities and, hence, exempt from the range of control exerted by the magistrate tasked with the administration of the new province. Raised to the condition of quintessence of Greek culture by Augustus, Athens and Sparta were separated from the rest of cities and towns of the European Greece, which were bereft of the main worth that they could hold for the Empire: their condition as representatives of Greek cultural tradition. As stated by Rizakis, only Roman colonies and some free cities composed the spinal column of the Hellenistic policies of the Roman Empire41. The inhabitants of poor territories, those deprived of relevant natural resources, the ones mistreated by civil wars, or aligned with the losing side, or lacking in strategic interest, all of them were unnecessary now for the exaltation of the legacy of Hellenism by Rome: the destiny of European Greeks could hardly be anticipated as propitious. It is likewise pointless to wonder on the continuation of a punishment that was no longer needed, once concluded the civil war. The creation of a province that was an uneven collection of towns and cities and severed from direct contact from the emperor, which would reveal itself as the major source of bounty in the empire, threatened them with relegation in the Empire42. In response to the Augustan organization, the following decades witnessed the development of a process that added a series of political operations, some successful and others futile. The initiative originated in provincials seeking a new connection with imperial power and it allowed a significant part of that province, which felt as the authentically Greek and had been excluded from Rome’s centre of attention, to benefit from imperial generosity. Concurrently with the acceptance by the rest of the empire of the interpretation of the province as territorial demarcation of government43, the idea that a Greek province would exist necessary gained acquiescence both at the seat of imperial power and among the subjects themselves. The closing stages of the process, that coincide, as claimed here, with the rule of the first Antonine emperor, made it possible for Pausanias to express himself in the following way at the final part of his excursus44: καλοῦσι δὲ οὐχ Ἑλλάδος‚ ἀλλὰ Ἀχαΐας ἡγεμόνα οἱ Ῥωμαῖοι‚ διότι ἐχειρώσαντο Ἕλληνας δι` Ἀχαιῶν τότε τοῦ Ἑλληνικοῦ πορεστηκότων. “Romans do not refer to him as governor of 41 42 43 44

A. D. Rizakis, “Roman colonies in the province of Achaia”, in S. E. Alcock, The Early Roman Empire in the East (Oxford 1997), 15. M. Sartre, El Oriente romano (Madrid 1994), 211–254. The transformation of geographic space into administrative space: C. Nicolet, L’inventaire du monde (Paris 1988), 201. Paus. 7.16.10. W. Hutton, Describing Greece (Cambridge 2005), 54–82, esp. 61–62.

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Hellas, but of Achaia.” Despite the conservatism of Roman institutions, owing to which a name for the province that had a historical basis but did not adjust to the political reality of the 2nd century AD had been preserved, Pausanias considered the equivalence of both terms solidly established. Definitely, Dio’s excerpt derives from the total recognition of this merger, which was yet not felt by Strabo at the demise of Augustus. I will subsequently put forth a proposal of the reconstruction of some of the fundamental milestones of the process that led to the absolute equivalence between the province of Achaia and Hellas, as a geographical, historical and cultural reality. Prior to that, however, we must direct our attention to the precedent of this process of construction of a Greek identity within the territory of a Roman province, a precedent that, to my understanding, established a model for other provinces. As early as 29 BC, when Octavius had not defined the institutional form of his domain, the emperor was in the province of Asia organizing his affairs. Among other measures, he instituted or, better yet, he recognized the existence of the koinon of Asia, composed of peregrini inhabitants which he officially labeled as Hellenes, and ordered the worship to his person45. The κοινὸν τῶν ἐπὶ τῆς Ἀσίας Ἑλλήνων was not, in actual fact, a new institution. Its earliest draft could date back to the opening years of the 1st century BC, when first records of a council exist under the name: οἱ ἐν τῆι Ἀσίαι δῆμοι καὶ τὰ ἔθνη καὶ οἱ κατ` ἄνδρα κεκριμένοι ἐν τῆι πρὸς Ῥωμαίους φιλίαι.46 The title of the association makes evident its set-up as the aggregation of diverse realities: the political entities of Greek tradition, the démoi, and the tribes which, though not fully Greek, were on the path of hellenization, the ethne. This same institution can be seen in the inscription of a statue of Caesar in Ephesus, from 48 BC which reads: αἱ πόλεις αἱ ἐν τῆι Ἀσίαι καὶ οἱ δῆμοι καὶ τὰ ἔθνη47. J.-L Ferrary suggests explaining the identification process of this meeting with the “Hellenes of Asia” in the following way48: “L’idée de ce nom, τὸν κοινὸν τῶν ἐπὶ τῆς Ἀσίας Ἑλλήνων, vint-elle des provinciaux, qui auraient mis en avant leur hellénisme dans l’espoir d’etre mieux traités (ou moins maltraités) para les Romains, ou de certaines autorités romaines, par example de Lucullus, qui auraient décidé d’etendre à tous les provinciaux le terme, à leurs yeux valorisant, de Graeci ? L’hypothèse d’une suggestion provinciale ratifiée par les autorités romaines me paraît la plus vraisemblable”. The dialogue, the negotiation and, finally, the agreement between provincials and the Roman power49 45

46 47 48 49

Dio is aware of the fact that the creation of the Koinon of Asia served as a precedent for the rest of provinces, Greek and otherwise: C. D. 51.20.7: καὶ τοῦτ’ἐκεῖθεν ἀρξάμενον καὶ ἐπ’ἄλλων αὐτοκρατόρων οὐ μόνον ἐν τοῖς Ἑλληνικοῖς ἔθνεσιν‚ ἀλλὰ καὶ ἐν τοῖς ἄλλοις ὅσα τῶν Ῥωμαίων ἀκούει‚ ἐγένετο. OGIS 438; IGR IV 291. IEph 251. J.-L. Ferrary, “Rome et la géographie de l’hellénisme: réflexions sur hellènes et panhellènes dans les inscriptions d’époque romaine” in O. Salomies (ed.), The Greek East in the Roman context (Helsinki 2001), 20–35, esp. 29. A. J. S. Spawforth, Greece and the Augustan Cultural Revolution (Cambridge 2012), 57, however he seems skeptical with the idea of a negotiated relation between Augustus and the Greeks with Hellenism as foundation.

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managed to create an institutional reality which, founded on a cultural self, became the primary interlocutor with Roman power50. Octavius recognized this as such both in its name and its institutional authenticity and functions, adding to it imperial worship. The intentionality of Octavius was novel because, using a preexisting association which at the time and in the future would be officially recognized by the Roman government, it established a relation model between provintials of Greek origin, or sufficiently hellenized, and Rome. The idea spread to other places inmediately, with a Koinon of the Hellenes of Bithynia being established as well, mentioned also by Dio and possibly guided by his national pride51. The first emperor had made Asia his center of attention, where the richest and most prosperous Greek cities thrived and where, in spite of having sided with Antonius, war had not been present. On account of this, a political and military surveillance was not as necessary as in European Greece. On the other hand, Athens and Sparta seemed to him sufficient to channel the relation with the Greek past and present. Yet, not all civic oligarchies of the new province of Achaia would have been automatically in conformity with this vision. They would have also wanted to claim their Greek condition and, therefore, their share in the benefits and privileges that the empire could bestow. This recovery, or invention, of a Greek character effective in gaining the attention of the Roman Governors and, with it, the profits of the dominion, initiated, to my understanding, a triple process. Firstly, there was the intention to bring together all of those who could have felt excluded from Augustan organization, i. e., the Greeks under the authority of the governor of Achaia. Based on the results we should also think that there was an intention to displace those regions incorporated in the province which could be considered as marginal, Epirus, Acarnania and others. Lastly, I believe the project was conceived in rivalry with those that had managed to appropriate Greek identity in the eyes of Rome, that is to say, Sparta and, specially, Athens. In the policies developed from Argos one can notice certain lidership of this alternative project for Greece. Pausanias saw in that city the chief rivalry to Athens, both in the interpretation of the past and the ranking of favors given by the gods52: Ἑλλήνων οἱ μάλιστα ἀμφισβητοῦντες Ἀθηναίοις ἐς ἀρχαιότητα καὶ δῶρα‚ ἃ παρὰ θεῶν φασιν ἔχειν‚ εἰσὶν Ἀργεῖοι. It may be thought that the geographer was making reference to events of the 2nd century AD, not to rivalries expected of the instauration of the Augustan regime. Strabo steps in to clarify the situation. 50

51 52

The provinces and the koina as organizers and creators of identities: P. Le Roux, “Identités civiques, identités provinciales dans l’Empire romain”, in Roma generadora de identidades (Madrid 2011), 7–20; R. Haensch, “L’attitude des gouverneurs envers leurs provinces”, ibid., Madrid (2011), 97–106. F. Gascó, Sociedad y cultura en tiempo de los Severos (Madrid 1988), 9–20. Paus. 1.14. 2. The process of reinterpretation of Argivian legends in the light of the cultural and political transformation sponsored by Augustus: A. J. S. Spawforth, Greece and the Augustan cultural revolution, Cambridge (2012), 184–186. The prosperity of Argos after the Flavians and its importance in time of Hadrian: A. J. Spawforth, S. Walker, “The world of the Panhellenion II. Three Dorian cities”, JRS 76 (1986), 101–104.

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Describing Argolis, he dedicates a chapter to the explanation of the word “Argos” in Homer. The examples that he adduced allow the understanding that, for the educated people of the 1st century AD, Argos could have diverse meanings in Homeric poems: the city of Argos itself, the entire Peloponnese, and “even the entire Hellas, he calls all Hellenes Argives, καὶ ὅλη ἡ Ἑλλάς· Ἀργείους γοῦν καλεῖ πάντας”53. The oligarchy of Argos naturally resorted to its homeric past, since it could not compete with neither Athens nor Sparta in more recent times of Greek history. This could not be done, specially, in the context of the Greco-Persian wars, the preferred age for Roman power. Strabo, in turn, was absulutely sure that, in his time, Greek identity was in question54: περὶ δὲ τῆς Ἑλλάδος καὶ Ἑλλήνων καὶ Πανελλήνων ἀντιλέγεται, “there is discussion about Hellas, the Hellenes, and the Panhellenes”. It is true that, yet again, the geographer centers the debate on the matter of these concepts, in the use made of them by authors of other times: Homer, Thucydides, Apollodorus, Hesiod, Archilochus … Thus, it may seem that this is pure philological erudition and that, as in many other passages of his book 8, there is no connection with the present time. It would be a mistake to think in this way: discussions on Greek identity during imperial times always found its developmental background in the literary and historical past55. The relationship that the Roman power had established between past glory and present privileges forced a debate in these terms. For the Greeks, preeminence in the empire should at least be also based in the past, a glorious, pious, martial, virile, and anti-asiatic past56. To Argos, this meant the Trojan War. The first evident step in the creation of a Greek identity for the province of Achaia, an alternative to the Athens-Sparta duality, took place during the reign of Gaius, though precedent date back to the government of the second emperor57. In the first year of the reign of Tiberius, the province of Achaia, together with Macedonia, was supressed and government responsibilities transferred to the governor of Moesia, Poppaeus Sabinus58. It is not simple to grasp the reasons behind this transference of responsibility but, as Tacitus admits, there existed a real discomfort among provintials on the payment of taxes, onera deprecantis, and they made their voices heard. The transference of Achaia to the authority of the imperial legate gives the impression of a measure destined to restablishing control in an unruly territory, disolving the image of provintial satisfaction faced with Augustan order. It might have been so, and European Greece might have been immersed in difficul53 54 55

56 57 58

Strab. 8.6.5. Strab. 8.6.6. R. Baladié, Le Péloponnèse de Strabon (Paris 1980), 11–14. The sources and specially Homer: Strabon, Géographie. Tome V. Livre VIII (Texte établi et traduit par R. Baladié) (Paris 2003), 19–32. A more extensive vision of the relation with the past: E. Bowie, “The Greeks and their past in the Second Sophistic”, in M. Finley (ed.), Studies in Ancient Society (London 1974), 166–209. A. J. S. Spawforth, Greece and the Augustan cultural revolution (Cambridge 2012), 1–58. I made a first approach to the matter in J. M. Cortés Copete, “Acaya, la creación de una provincia”, in J. Santos Yanguas and E. Torregaray, Laudes provinciarum (Vitoria 2007), 105–134. Tac. Ann. 1.76.2; 80.1 The rule of C. Poppaeus Sabinus (PIR P 847) is also remembered in C. D. 58.25. 4.

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ties to maintain an unbreakable loyalty to the Roman Empire, specially if economic predicaments were adding to the state of affairs. But it also implied new opportunities, specifically given the fact that provintials could now be in direct contact with the emperor59 through the governor, not needing the intermediary doings of the Senate. This preferential conection gained intensity since, in 34, Memmius Regulus succeeded Poppaeus Sabinus in the government of the enormous Balcanic province60. Regulus was a Narbonensian that counted on the support of Tiberius, from whom he initially served as quaestor to be then promoted to the consulate in 31. Possibly already in charge of the government of Mesia, he married a girl, by name Lollia Paulina, who would have some protagonism in the strengthening of the ties with Greece61. Paulina was daughter and heir to M. Lollius, one of the most determined supporters of Augustus and, for that reason, one of the richest men in Rome at the time. M. Lollius performed important tasks in the East: He took charge of the annexation of Galatia, ruled over Macedonia, and was comes et rector for Gaius Caesar during his stay in the East62. This third commission brought about his ruin but Tiberius, probably desiring to compensate his offspring, facilitated his daughter’s matrimony, still a 5-year-old child, with Regulus, which would present a clear future. Lolia inherited paternal links with Greece and favoured, with the memory of his father, her husband’s embrace, promoting an understanding that would bear its fruit. During the last year of Tiberius, European Greece witnessed the development of an intense political and diplomatic movement that would come to being upon Gaius succession. It did so with the federation of all the most important leagues of the province, reclaiming their role as heirs of the Greek people. Proof to this process of conception of the new league in Greece is formed by the dossier of documents that in honor to Epaminondas of Acraephia were published in his home city. This series of epigraphic documents produce a disjointed collection in which many letters in honor to Epaminondas for his work as embassador to the emperor are copied; some not being copied so due to their abundance. The missives come from several political institutions, cities, regional leagues, worship organizations, in addition to a letter from emperor Gaius63. These letters were sent at different times of a long and confusing political and institutional process: a brief proposal of reconstruction of this process follows hereafter. In my opinion, four milestones are clearly distinguished. The first one is a 59 60 61

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This notion of direct link with the Emperor is also highlighted by Tac. Ann. 1.76.2: tradique Caesari placuit. C. D. 58.25.4–5. PIR V, n. 468. Tac., Ann. 14.47.1. P. Memmius Regulus (PIR M 468) ruled that enormous province between the years 35 and 44. The hypothesis that Lollia Paulina was only a child at the time of her betrothal to Regulus comes from J. H. Oliver, “Lollia Paulina, Memmius Regulus and Caligula”, Hersperia 35 (1966), 150–153, considering the honorific Athenian inscription in favour of the two of them. There she is called μνηστή, which points towards her child years. Suet., Calig. 25.2: puella. PIR L 311. R. Syme, L’aristocrazia Augustea (Milan 1993), 83, 110, 263. IG VII 2711. J. H. Oliver, “Epaminondas of Acraephia”, GRBS 12 (1971), 211–237. J. H. Oliver, Greek Constitutions (Philadelphia 1989), nº 18.

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meeting held in Argos64 by the representatives of all the koina that intended to federate and to organize a delegation to present their proposal to the emperor. The second step is the audience given by emperor Giaus to the legation and the affirmative response to the petition that was made: the constitution of the Koinon of the Achaeans, Boeotians, Locrians, Phocians and Euboeans. Third, the first assembly of the Koinon, recently authorized by the emperor, with the reiteration of the gratitude to those who had made possible the institutional and diplomatic success of the recognition by the imperial power of the new league as representative of the Hellenes, at least of many of them, in the province. As a result of this meeting, in the fourth instance, several sessions took place for each of the federated leagues and for some of the cities within these leagues, where decrees in honor of Epaminondas were passed65. The first meeting of which there is evidence was possibly held in the city of Argos. As notified in later documents, the attendees were representatives of the main provincial leagues, those from Achaia, Boeotia, Locris, Euboea and Phocis. Sparta and Athens were not represented, nor was the league of the Eleuthero-Lacones, the Thessalians, or the cities of Aetolia and Acarnania, whose leagues had been disolved by Augustus after the foundation of Nicopolis66. It is important to indicate that this implied the exclusion of Nicopolis, a central piece for Augustus of the Greek settlement and who had been granted effective control of the Amphictyony67. Those there gathered did so under the name of Hellenes68, which, to my understanding, represents a declaration of principles and political intentions: they aimed to become the legitimate representatives of Hellas, as a historical, political and cultural entity, as well as of Greek identity. Their aspirations were backed by historical arguments that spoke of the grandness and dignity of Hellas, a line of reasoning that educated Romans were truly ready to accept, as even the emperor would recognize69. With the Asiatic precedent in mind, where a conglomerate of cities and towns had been recognized as members of a single koinon of the Hellenes of Asia, some regional leagues of Achaia would have demanded in this way similar 64

IG VII 2711, ll. 101–102 (Document VIII): ἐν τῷ κοινῷ τῶν Παν/[ελλῆ]νων τῷ ἀχθέντι ἐν Αργει. 65 Nine documents form this text (numbered I through IX by Dittenberger). To my understanding, they had to be chronologically organized in four main steps. 1st: document II (ll. 1–15), decree of the Hellenes. 2nd: document III. (ll. 20–41) letter from emperor Gaius. 3rd: document I (ll. 1–15), letter from the new league to the city of Acrephia in honor of Epaminondas. 4th: documents IV–IX, containing the letter with the honours decreed by some of the parts (regional leagues, cities) that benefited from the actions of Epaminondas. 66 M. Sartre, El Oriente romano (Madrid 1994), 220. 67 F. Lefèvre, L’Amphictionie pyléo-delphique: histoire et institution (Athens 1998), 127–8. P. Sánchez, L’amphictionie des Pyles et de Delphes (Stuttgart 2001), 426–8. 68 IG VII 2711, l. 15: Ἔδοξε τῇ συνόδῳ τῶν Ἑλλήνων. This allows us to recovery with certainty the last line of the decree, truncated in the stella: τὸ ψήφισμα τῶν Ἑ[λλήνων]. The document lacks the institutional prologue that should inform of the circumstances of its approval. This is so, in my opinion, because it reaches Acrephia not as an independent document but as a copy sent with and attached to Document I, subsequent to the return of the embassy. 69 IG VII 2711, ll. 28–29 (Document IV): καὶ μεμνημένος τῆς ἐκ παλαιῶν χρόνων/ [ἐπιφ]ανείας ἑκάστου τῶν Ἑλληνικῶν δ[ήμω]ν.

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recognition, that is, to be considered by Rome the Hellenes of the European province. One can deduce that this was their goal from the fact that the most important task of that first meeting was the organization of an embassy to the Emperor in Rome seeking to appeal for the ratification of this project. The creation of said legation was not a simple task. Despite having been summoned under the pompous name of Hellenes, and given that the desired confederation had not yet been recognized by Rome as apt interlocutor, thus not representing an official organization, the embassy had to be constituted by representatives from each of the leagues involved in the process70. The delegation fell under the direction of a member of the Achaean league (Ἀρχιπρεσβευτὴς) who clearly took the initiative not only of this delegation but, possibly, of the entire process. He was accompanied by a certain number of representatives from each of the leagues willing to federate, with quantities determined by the political and demographic weight they held71. It was then that the problems presented by the cities of the Boeotian league became evident: the most important ones in the region refused to propose ambassadors. The texts point towards budgetary impediments that seemingly hindered their highranking members with considerable travel costs72. These excuses, however, do not seem enough; political reticence or doubts on the whole confederate proyect need also be suspected. It was at that time that Epanimondas gained protagonism: as member of the aristocracy of Thespiae, he decided to undertake the role of representing Boeotia, assuming all expenses. The generosity of the aristocrat gained the recognition of all and sundry, though, I surmise, not so much for the quantity of the expenses but because his compromise secured the continuation of the Boeotian league in the great project of federal inception. Those who, in contrast to Epaminondas, rejected their duty as ambassadors were “acused of risking the separation of Boeotia from the Panhellenes.”73 Moreover, Epaminondas’s gesture went beyond securing Boeotian participation as it also assured the viability of a federation 70

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F. Millar, The Emperor in the Roman world (London 1992), 367, 387. Paus. 7.16.10. R. KalletMarx, Hegemony to Empire (Berkeley 1996), 76–82, where the dissolution of the league is defended as a direct result of the Greek defeat and its quick restoration by means of embassies to the Roman senate. IG VII 2711, ll. 35–41. Its incomplete state generates uncertainties on the names of the participants. They were distributed as follows: eight Achaeans, four Boeotians, one Phocian, one Euboean and two Locrians. One of these two Locrian representatives might as well have acted in the name of the Dorians from Doris, who are also mentioned in IG IV2 80–81. J. H. Oliver, “Panachaeans and Panhellenes”, Hesperia 17 (1978), 187. In document VI, a decree of the Naopoians gathered during the Panboeotian festivities, lines 62–3 read: μηδενός τε βουλομένου ὑπομεῖναι το βά/[ρος, “with no one wanting to accept the burden.” It is repeated in the decree of the Thebans, Document VIII, ll. 97–9: πολλῶν ὀ/ [κνησ]άντων ὑπομεῖναι τὸ βάρος καὶ τὴν ὄχλησιν /[τῆς] ἀποδημίας. These explicit references to the finantial burden of the delegation, as an excuse not to undertake it, are made in a meeting of the Boeotian league and in an assembly at Thebes, posterior to the embassy to the emperor. The possible intention would be to underline the deplorable conduct of the Boeotians who had refused to embark on the task. IG VII 2711, ll. 9–10 (Doc. I): ἐπικαλουμένων ὡς ἀποστῆναι /[κινδυ]νεύειν τὴν Βοιωτίαν ἀπὸ τῶν Πανελλήνων. The praise of the Boeotians to Epaminondas may refer to this same threat, ll. 58–59 (Doc. VI): ἐπειδ]ὴ Ἐπαμινώνδας Ἐπαμινώνδου ἀνὴρ καλός τε κἀγαθὸς

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project that would fail at the initial stage if Boeotia did not partake in it. Thus, the generosity of Epaminondas, the Boeotian League, with Acheans, Euboeans, and Phocians too, could preserve its aspirations of constituing a single reality. Gratitude transcended the borders of his city and region: all Greece would recognize the kindness of his decision. It is not possible to determine the date of this meeting held in Argos. Traditionally, and with the recent approval of J. H. Oliver, Document II of IG VII 2711 did not testify to, as it is here proposed, the preliminary meeting of the federation: this is based on the fact that the constitution of the new Koinon would have taken place in the times of Tiberius74. In this line, the only probable petition that would then have been addressed to the emperor would have been the ratification, at the beginning of his rule, of a preexisting reality. The argument found its foundation in the political career of Titus Statilius Timocrates, who was secretary of the confederation. In an honorific inscription found at Epidaurus, his city of origin, it is stated that he was elected secretary after the concession of freedom and that, from that post, he had “consolidated the benefits, still uncertain, of freedom.”75 This was discarded to imply an instance of the freedom granted by Nero, and it was considered, without further ado, a reference to the “freedom” granted by Tiberius in allowing the confederation76. As Spawforth demonstrated, there is nothing on which to support this interpretation and the honors conceded to Timocrates had to be linked to the great generosity of Nero, granting Greece its freedom77. Therefore, the existence of the confederation of Greek leagues must at least extend until the end of Nero’s reign, at the same time when all those claimed arguments in favour of the existence of a previous embassy in August of year 37 disappear. Once this is clarified, nothing points towards locating the constitution of the league of Greek koina in the reign of Tiberius; it can therefore be admitted that IG VII 2711 contains the account of its foundation. In this same reasoning, I believe it would also be appropriate to move the preliminary meeting of the Hellenes in Argos to the first weeks of Caligula’s rule. Tiberius died on May 16, 37 and the embassy was received by the new emperor, Gaius, on that year’s August 1978. In the interim, within the most favorable season for navigation, there was plenty of opportunity to take the last and decisive step as soon as news of Tiberius’s death and the accession of Gaius reached Greek shores. Definitely, a process of negotiation among the pro-

74 75 76 77

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ὑ/[πάρ]χων παρὰ πάντα τὸν βίον καὶ ἐν τῷ π[α]ρόντι μηδὲν ἐν/[λιπεῖν] βουλόμενος εἰς τὸ ἔθνος. J. H. Oliver, “Panachaeans and Panhellenes”, Hesperia 47 (1978), 185–188. J. H. Oliver, Greek Constitutions (Philadelphia 1989), 77. IG IV2 81, l. 7: τὰ τῆς ἐλευθερίας ἔτι πλανώμενα κατεστήσατο β[έ]βαια. This opinion is original of M. Fränkel in IG IV 935, and has been accepted by the majority of experts. A. Momigliano, “Review to CAH X”, JRS 34 (1944), 115–6, revealed the mistake. A. Spawforth, “Families at Roman Sparta and Epidaurus: some prosopographical notes”, ABSA 80 (1985), 253–4. “Corinth, Argos, and the Imperial Cult”, Hesperia 63 (1994), 223–4. However, the mistake has been accepted again by M. Kantiréa, Les dieux et les dieux Augustes (Athènes 2007), 107, 191–192, who considers that IG VII 2711 is the last document that makes reference to the League. IG VII 2711, ll.41–42: Ἐδό[θη πρὸ] δεκατεσσάρων καλανδῶν Σεπτεμβρίων ἐν Ῥώμῃ.

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vincials had been in motion for a time, but it is possible that they might have wanted to take advantage of the tour that the governor made in his province seeking oaths of loyalty to the new emperor79, and thus inform him of and request his permission for the operation. It is very likely that Regulus might have been already aware of the intentions of the Greek, and even responsive and receptive of them. Some evidence may indicate this connivance of interests. In Epidaurus, the base80 of a monument was found raised in honour of P. Memmius Regulus, governor of the Balcanic province, and of his son Gaius Memmius, who possibly was part of his retinue. The inscription need be dated between years 35 and 44, when Regulus was governor of the province. The monument had been dedicated by the Achaean League to its benefactor. In would not be random to presume that the generous gesture of the governor, thus rewarded, was not an imprecise favour but his support to the process of federal constitution, approving previous conversations. A special circumstance leads me to deem this so: the league of the Achaeans chose to put in charge of the construction of the building two notable citizens, father and son, from Epidaurus, Titus Statilius Lamprias and Titus Statilius Timocrates. They were possibly appointed to establish a parallelism between the kinship of those honored and those in charge of completing the inscription. The son, Titus Statilius Timocrates, some thirty years later, is the same who was chosen secretary of the federation at the same time that Nero granted freedom to the province81. In the same way as Epaminondas, who also reappears next to the liberating emperor82, Timocrates was part of that certain Greek elite compromised with the creation of their own place within the Roman Empire, Hellas. They counted with the support of governor Regulus83. His presence in the meeting of all the Greeks, which might have constituted the formal reason of the conference, provided them with the sought after confidence and hopefulness of a welcome in Rome. Returning to that first meeting, another decision was made there, perhaps emulating the Asiatic koina model, which had already extended through other Greek and Latin provinces: assuming the veneration to the emperor84. There was a difference in how this came into being at either shore of the Aegean: with limited financial resources compared to those of their Asian counterparts, and with the intention of making the most of the prestige of some traditional centres of Hellenist cult, rather than approving the construction of a new temple dedicated to imperial wor79 80 81 82 83 84

IG VII 2711 ll. 55–6 (Doc. I): τόν τε ὅρ/[κον ὤμοσε]ν ὑπὲρ τῆς πόλεως ὑμῶν παρόντος καὶ τοῦ ἡγεμόνος. IG IV2 665; W. Peek, Inschriften aus dem Asklepieion von Epidauros, I n. 289. Father and son: A. Spawforth, “Families at Roman Sparta and Epidaurus: some prosopographical notes”, ABSA 80 (1985), 248–258. Secretary of the koinon: IG IV2 81, ll. 3–4: αἱρ]εθεὶς δ[ὲ] /γραμματεὺς μετὰ τὸ τὴν ἐλευθερίαν ἡμεῖν ἀποδοθῆναι. IG VII 2713, ll. 27 y ss. Apart from those in Epidaurus, other monuments in his honour were raised in different places of the new federation: Corinth: Corinth 8.2, n 53. Delphi: FD III 1 532. Olympia: IvO 337. Megara: IG VII 87. Thespiae: BCH 50 (1926), 442–3, n 80. S. R. F. Price, Rituals and Power (Cambrigde 1984). D. Fishwick, The Imperial Cult in Latin West, III. Provincial Cult (Leiden 2002–2004). M. Kantiréa, Les dieux et les dieux Augustes (Athènes 2007), 190–192. F. Lozano, Un dios entre los hombres (Barcelona 2010), 119–133.

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ship, a proposal was put forth for the erection of a number of statues of the emperor in several sacred places in Hellas85. The locations that were chosen constituted a cultural, political and geographic definition of the region. Nevertheless, it was Gaius himself who amended the plan presented by the ambassadors, decreasing the number of statues and selecting the sites where they would be placed. There is no knowledge of the original layout designed by the Greeks who, in addition to including the four venues of the most important games, must have contemplated other cities, probably the most relevant from each of its leagues; the emperor, at length, limited the proposal to Olympia, Delphi, Argos and Corinth86. Without a doubt, this preference was motivated by the historical and legendary arguments on which the Greeks themselves supported their request, and allowed the establishment, at last, of an alternative image of Hellas to the duality represented by Athens and Sparta, the Hellas of the Periodos87. After that first meeting of the “Hellenes” of Achaia, the diplomats left for Rome to be received, as said above, on August 19th, 37 AD. It should now be evident that their petitions were positively contemplated and accepted by the emperor, though not without exceptions. In addition to the aforementioned limitation in the quantity of statues and their final settings, I believe the emperor further curbed Greek expectations. Initially, there exists the interpretation that it was Gaius who authorized the federation of the regional koina and, therefore, the foundation of the new league. The emperor broaches the subject categorically: “And having brought the memories of the fame originated in ancient times of each Greek people, I allow you to associate, ἐῶ ὑμᾶς συνισταμένους.88” It would seem, at first sight, that success had been complete: arguing with the historical past, where the War of Troy would likely have its pride of place, the emperor bestowed his consent to the confederation, hence acknowledging them as official interlocutors. 85 86

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The special feature of imperial worship in the province of Achaia has been highlighted by F. Lozano, Un dios entre los hombres (Barcelona 2010), 119–125. One of the fundamental differences with other provinces is the coexistence of various koina consecrated to the worship. IG VII 2711, ll. 30–32 (Doc. III): [τῶν ἀ]νδριάντων οὓς ἐψηφίσαςέ μοι‚ το πολὺ πλῆθος‚ ἐὰν ὑμεῖν δοκῇ‚ /[καθε]λόντες‚ ἀρκεσθῆτε τοῖς Ὀλυμπίασι καὶ Νεμέᾳ καὶ Πυθοῖ καὶ Ἰσ/[θμοῖ] τεθησομένοις, “As for the statues which you voted me, if you please, reduce the great number and be content with those that will be placed at Olympia and Nemea and at the Pythian sanctuary and at the Isthmus.” N. Kennell, “Νέρων περιοδονίκης”, AJPh 109 (1988), 235–251. S. E. Alcock, “Nero at play? The Emperor’s Grecian Odyssey”, in J. Elsner, J. Masters, Reflections of Nero (London 1994), 98–111. IG VII 2711, ll. 28–29. J. H. Oliver, “Panachaeans and Panhellenes”, Hesperia 47 (1978), 188, argued that the text had to be rectified, substituting the present participle, συνισταμένους, for the aorist συνεσταμένους, a correction which was necessary, to his understanding, to sutain the hypothesis that the league was founded under Tiberius and the Gaius only ratified what already existed oficially. In Greek Constitutions (Philadelphia 1989), 71, he introduced the rectification in the text of the inscription, with no indication in the apparatus. Inasmuch as the stone does not render any doubts on its correct reading, ΣΥΝΙΣΤΑΜΕΝΟΥΣ, and given that the foundation under Tiberius has been discarded, it must be acknowledged that it was Emperor Gaius who authorized the federation of the several koina.

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Greek triumph, in spite of this, had not been absolute. The imperial missive that bore the good news was not addressed to the Hellenes, as they would have appreciated being called, but to the “Koinon of the Achaeans, Boeotians, Locrians, Phocians and Euboeans”, name under which the confederation of leagues would operate since then89. The emperor had deprived them of the name Hellenes and did not grant them with the same representation as that of the koinon of Asia. Part of the reason laid in the lack of identity between the federated koina and the province which, at the time, also included the practically the entire Balkan peninsula, from Moesia to the Peloponnese90. Be it as it may, one must not disdain the hypothesis of other Greek peoples, Spartans and Athenians, having negatively informed the emperor in this attempt of appropriation of the Hellene name by the leagues which excluded them. Naturally, Regulus had able contacts in Athens91, especially in Claudius Novius92, and could have been well aware of this opposition herein suggested. In any case, the negative on the part of the emperor to confer on them the name of Hellenes, resorting to the juxtaposition of all the constituents, would explain why in the remaining documents present in the long inscription of Tespias, all of them subsequent to the embassy, they never refer to themselves “the Hellenes”. It consequently becomes obvious that the synod of the Hellenes existed only as preceding structure which, at least partially, was frustrated and thwarted. Apparently, an additional two names were used to refer to the confederation, Panhellenes and Panachaean. It is necessary to underline that neither was the official name of the new koinon and that they generated doubts on their meaning and application, preventing its generalized usage. The former, Panhellenes, only appears connected to the new koinon in the documents by Epaminondas: in IG VII 2711, it is seen three times93. First, to mention the risk represented for the Boeotians to be left out from the Panhellenic group for having declined participation in the embassy94; next, to recall the honours that were decreed in favour of the emperor, which he subsequently limited; and, lastly, to refer to the assembly held in Argos, where the famous delegation was shaped. Therefore, it seems evident that in the texts grouped under this inscription, Panhellenes is an equivalent term to the “Hellenes” of Document II. However, it fared better than its apparent synonym, as it 89 90

IG IV2 1, 80. As held by F. Lozano, Un dios entre los hombres (Barcelona 2010), 119–124, provincial worship is nothing more than a historiographic illusion inspired on the example of Asia. Koina and provinces hardly ever coincided in the East. 91 Monuments in honour to Mummius Regulus in Athens: IG II2 4174, erected by Novius; IG II2 4175, raised by Diocles, son of Themistocles; IG II2 4176, in honour to Regulus and his wife Lollia Paulina. D. J. Geagan, “The Athenian Elite”, in M. C. Hoff and S. I. Rotroff, The Romanization of Athens (Oxford 1997), 24–26. 92 K. K. Carroll, The Parthenon Inscription, Durham (1982), 43–58. F. Lozano, La religión del poder (Oxford 2002), 61–66, on the work of Claudius Novius as promoter of imperial worship. 93 IG VII 2711 ll. 9–19 (Doc. I): ὡς ἀποστῆναι /[κινδυ]νεύειν τὴν Βοιωτίαν ἀπὸ τῶν Πανελλήνων; l. 67 (Doc. VI): τὰς ἐψηφισμένας τιμὰς ὑπὸ τῶν Πανελλήνω[ν]; l. 102–3 (Doc. VIII): ἐν τῷ κοινῷ τῶν Παν/[ελλή]νων τῷ ἀχθέντι ἐν Ἂργει. 94 To this instance we need to consider adding the following variation: [πρεσ]βείας ζητουμένης ἐν τοῖς Πανέλλησι[ν]

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substitutes it in the account of the process leading to the creation of the federation by the emperor. Panhellenes was only used again in relation to the federation in IG VII 2712. Here, in contrast with the way it is used in the previous inscription and though it intends to allude to the assembly of Argos, it is devoid of its general sense and is in opposition to the council of the Achaeans: τῷ τῶν Ἀχαιῶν καὶ Πανελλήνων συνεδρίῳ ἐν Ἄργει. This new enunciation of that assembly may reveal a possible internal rivalry for the control of and preponderance within the confederation. This would explain the use of the term Panachaians, endorsed by the Achaian league as evidence of their influence in the institution. But the scarce employment that they made of the term points toward their understanding of its meagre institutional value. The inscriptions of Statilius Timocrates shed light, yet again, on the matter. IG IV2 81 includes the decree of the confederation by which it was decided to honour its secretary. It reads: (l. 14): διὰ δὴ πάντα ταῦτα ἔδοξε τῶι Παναχαϊκῶι συνεδρίωι, “for all this it was decided by the council of the Panachaians …” Among the list of honours bestowed there are some statues that should have the following inscription (ll. 16–18): Ἀχαιοὶ καὶ Βοιωτοὶ /[καὶ Φω]κεῖς καὶ Εὐβοεῖς καὶ Λοκροὶ καὶ Δωριεῖς Τίτον Στατείλιον Τειμοκράτη γραμματέα/ [αὐτῶν] γενόμενον ἀρετῆς ἕνεκα, “The Achaians, Boeotians, Phoceans, Euboeans, Locrians and Dorians, to Titus Statilius Timocrates”, which was in effect engraved in his monuments95. Evidently, Panachaians was intended as a synonym of the official name of the confederation but it was not used with the Roman authorities. Despite all difficulties, and in conclusion, the results obtained by the confederate delegation should not be undervalued. If the settlement given to Greece by Augustus did not heed the interests of provincials but of Roman governmental requirements, at this stage, the same provincials acquired a voice of their own in the face of Roman institutions, a voice identified by a common past and cultural tradition which was expressed, geographically, in the sanctuaries where the four most important agones were habitually held. Thus, it is impossible to disconnect Nero’s circuit, first, and his liberation of Hellas, subsequently, from this political movement of the provincials. By then Hellas had become a geopolitical concept on which ruling decisions could be made, moving away, in Roman awareness, from a mere cultural, geographic and ethnic reference unconnected to the spheres of power. In Messenia, during Nero’s first year of rule, Cleophantus, son of Aristeus, as the first priest of the new emperor and also priest of Rome, raised a statue of the emperor96. He did so in commemoration of his trip to Rome, possibly to congratulate the new emperor. Cleophantus visited Rome as an ambassador, though he never specifies in whose representation he came to Nero. I believe it could be argued that he represented the League of Achaeans, Boeotians, Locrians, Phocians, and Euboeans. Among his titles read those of “first priest of Nero and priest of Rome”, contributing to the reinforcement of the idea that the worship established for this league that pretended to be provincial was designed under the Asiatic model. The 95 96

IG IV2 1, 80. IG V 1, 1449.

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most important argument is constituted, however, by his mentioning of the object of his assignment, “in favour of Hellas”, πρεσβεύσας ὑπὲρ τῆς Ἑλλάδος. Hellas was already a true political reality, not an indistinct entity defined by the participation of a cultural tradition. Similar to what had happened 17 years before, he also showed the generosity to cover all expenses of the delegation. Yet, between that representatives that appeared before Caligula seeking acknowledgement and this delegation of Cleophantus’s there laid an important difference: he was able to represent Hellas as a unit. It is evident that the federation of the koina, failing as it did in its effort to make Hellenes its official designation, had, nevertheless, managed to make provincials and Roman governors aware of this new entity which was to be granted a new politic-administrative structure. Romans had already accepted the equalization of Achaia with Hellas. No one stated this as clearly as Pliny in his exhortation to his friend Maximus: cogita te missum in provinciam Achaiam, illam veram et meran Graeciam97. This letter reflected the same idea as that expounded by Pausanias years later: “Romans don’t call him governor of Hellas, but of Achaia.” Thus, when Emperor Hadrian visited the province, some cities inaugurated a new era after the “first visit of the emperor to Hellas.”98 The conclusion seems to impose itself. Province inhabitants, in collaboration with certain Roman authorities, managed to create in the 1st century AD a Greek identity for a part of the original province of Achaia, an identity that identified itself with the historical, cultural and ethnic Hellas, which they believed they represented. This identification was accepted by the Roman power, thus adopting the Greek perspective of its own organization, ruling through Greek eyes. Throughout the years the limits and structure of the Greek province were modified to reduce its size and, above all, more coherent from the cultural and historic perspective. Undoubtedly, it was necessary to defeat both Greek and Roman resistance, especially that represented by the free cities of Athens and Sparta, symbol of Augustan Hellenism99. The unstoppable tendency for these and other free cities to end under the authority of provincial governors, dissolving the privilege, was accelerated with the appearance of the correctores who, under the guise of aiding cities economically and administratively in difficult situations, damaged the political remains of their independence. In this way, the correspondence between Hellas and the Roman province was perfected. It is necessary to return to Dio one last time. Ἑλλὰς μετὰ τῆς Ἠπείρου; once this identification between Hellas and Achaia, constructed in previous decades, is accepted, we should accurately consider the expression of the historian as an anachronism and, further still, as lacking in institutional accuracy, but never as an error. 97 98

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Plin., Ep. 8.24. IG IV2 1, 88, 383, 389: ἔτους κηʹ τῆς θε [οῦ]/ Ἁδριανοῦ τὸ πρῶτον [ἰς]/ τὴν Ἑλλάδα ἐπιδημίας; IG V 251. With Hadrian Hellas appears solidly consolidated as a reality of the action of the emperor’s government. SIG 835 A (Delphi): ῥυσαμένῳ καὶ θρέψαντι τὴν ἑαυτοῦ Ἑλλαδα. G. W. Bowersock, “The new Hellenism of Augustan Athens”, ASNSP Ser. 4, 7.1 (2002), 1–16.

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There existed, in the Roman Empire, a province for Hellas, even if this was not its official designation100.

100 Th. Corsten, “Proconsul Graeciae”, ZPE 117 (1997), 117–122.

IMPERIUM ROMANUM AND THE RELIGIOUS CENTRES OF ASIA MINOR The intervention of Roman political power on the temples of Asia Minor Arminda Lozano Among the problems which the rulers of Rome had to face following the conquest of Asia were those arising from the need to integrate the temples of Asia Minor into the Roman administrative system. While it is true that they did not form a homogeneous whole, the variation in type and importance reflected the superimposition on Anatolian soil of different cultural traditions over a broad timeline, in addition to the presence of the Greeks. Laudable attempts by different scholars to establish a suitable system for the classification of this typological variety have failed for a number of reasons. Both their lack of methodological transparency and their failure to provide an exact answer make them difficult to work with.1 In actual fact, the most accepted and perhaps least controversial distinction or classification is that formulated by P. Debord, in his classic work from 1982, which divides the temples into two basic major categories: the Greek type, represented by the sanctuaries of the Greek cities of the western Anatolian region, and another type with eastern roots which could be classified as rural. Two classes can be distinguished among the latter. The first type is characterized by the ownership of vast extensions of land worked by a population regarded as “sacred”. The priests who controlled and ruled them consequently enjoyed not only great religious powers but also economic and temporal ones. Other temples of lesser importance and devoted to local divinities were to be found in many villages throughout the Anatolian territory, but no possessions worthy of mention can be attributed to them. An intermediate systematization, postulated by H. Brandt, can be added to those previously mentioned. Brandt distinguished three types of sanctuaries: firstly, those belonging to the so-called dominant cults, fully integrated in the polis and represented in the centre of the city. These were followed by the independent temple-states of eastern origin, while the last type consisted of temples situated in the chora politiké of Greek cities, which had their own territories, enjoying some degree of independence, and were in fact semi-independent.2 1 2

Thus, for instance, the classification established by L. Boffo, I re ellenistici e i centri religiosi dell’Asia Minore (Firenze 1985), where distinctions are made between nine types of sanctuary, explaining each separately. H. Brandt, Gesellschaft und Wirtschaft Pamphyliens und Pisidiens im Altertum (Bonn 1992), 69. Although this largely clarifies the aforementioned classification by Debord, the grading of

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Regarding this point, Beate Dignas is possibly one of the modern scholars most critical of these divisions or classifications of temples in Asia Minor. In fact, her studies attempt to prove that the phenomenon of religion is inherently transversal and that the same characteristics may be detected in both urban and rural surroundings. She regards the division of this phenomenon into two separate fields, that of civic religion on the one hand and the ever-more prominent rural type on the other, as a mistake3, given that both are simply part of the whole, essentially a symbiosis of different elements likely to be found in all fields.4 But the classifications of temples also have other pertinent implications which may be economic, sociological or political. I would now like to focus on the political aspect. Within this complex panorama the behaviour of the Hellenistic monarchs towards the major eastern temples, mainly situated in the inner Anatolian region, answered to the demands of each particular period, but, following the trend adopted by the Achaemenids, as they did in so many other aspects, they were remarkably tolerant of the existing situation.5 Nevertheless, according to Strabo’s contemporary accounts, that is, around this transitional period, even though vestiges of the traditional organizational characteristics of these great eastern temples remained, major changes had already taken place, changes which could be blamed not only on the actions of politicians in power – in particular the urbanizing action of the monarchs – but also on other factors worthy of mention, such as territorial development, mixed population or improvements in communications. To sum up, this was cultural evolution in the broadest sense, brought about by the passing of time and contact with other peoples. When Strabo wrote his Geography, there was already a significant Roman presence in Asia Minor, although it was not until 133 BC, upon the death of the last representative of the reigning dynasty, Attalus III, whose will favoured Rome, that this presence was legitimized. The fact that until then Roman military campaigns had taken place mostly in the western Greek strip of the Anatolian peninsula explains why Roman attitudes towards religious matters were generally respectful, since these areas were part of a culture profoundly admired and imitated by most intellectuals from the Urbs. In any case, when faced with religious aspects unfamil-

3 4

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its criteria – such as integrated or semi-integrated, independent or semi-independent – is far from clear or comprehensible. S. Mitchell, Anatolia. Land, men and gods in Asia Minor, I. The Celts in Anatolia and the impact of Roman rule (Oxford 1993), 195–7 expressly states, when speaking of the rural world of inner Asia Minor, that the religiosity of villages is worlds apart from that of the cities. B. Dignas, Economy of the sacred in Hellenistic and Roman Asia Minor (Oxford 2002); B. Dignas, “Urban centres, rural centres, religious centres in the Greek East. Worlds apart?”, in E. Schwertheim-E. Winter, Religion und Region. Götter und Kulte aus dem östlichen Mittelmeerraum (Bonn 2003), 77–91. Their policy towards them, as well as the power of the temples themselves, has been the subject of lengthy diatribes among researchers from Ramsay to Rostovtzeff as well as other scholars who did not subscribe to their opinions and are not relevant to the current discussion. To consult these, see the bibliography included in the notes, which can be further expanded with those of the authors of the main works.

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iar to them because they had no parallel practices in their own religious world, the Romans’ usual stance was to accept, that is, to tolerate the traditions and uses of “others” as a product of their cultural heritage. This attitude persisted in Trajan’s time, as can be seen from the correspondence between the emperor and Pliny.6 Nevertheless, there were also examples of impiety and high-handedness among the Roman military activities deployed in the decades that followed, which together with the desire for riches shown by certain Roman generals, not to mention the publicans, brought about suffering and the ransacking of temples. Even so, there were also examples of the goodwill of the Senate towards the temples, as in the case of Priene or Ilium among others, when they were reclaiming the revenues which rightfully belonged to the temples.7 A much harsher period for the entire region, including its temples, followed with the Mithridatic and civil wars. Mithridates, king of Pontus, who had portrayed himself to the Greek cities as the liberator from the oppression of Rome, and particularly that of the publicans, displayed great generosity towards major temples such as the Ephesian Artemision. The figure of the Pontian king came to be a veritable catalyst for the hatred of the Romans, which had built up gradually in the Greek cities mainly because of excesses carried out during the collection of taxes. The most striking case was that of Ephesus, where all the Romans who had gone to the sanctuary of Artemis seeking refuge in its inviolability8 were massacred. Once the war had ended and the king had been defeated, continued loyalty to Mithridates was to cost the city its freedom and the temple its privileges. Sulla, however, was not as hard on Asia Minor as he was on Greece, where, as Plutarch states, the temples had to endure the confiscation of their treasures.9 The lengthy civil wars in Asian territories were an era of great hardship and conflict for the cities and temples of Asia Minor, given the complexity of the alliances between the various contenders and the inherent dangers, although some of the major protagonists respected the sanctuaries and displayed piety towards them. In addition to Caesar10, the best-known example, other cases are attested in the numerous honorific inscriptions from both the Greek cities and individuals, expressing gratitude for benefits received.11 6

Pliny, Epistulae 10.49: this set of traditions inherited from different peoples appears defined as religio. Regarding this, see K. Dowden, Religion and the Romans (London 1995), 45 f. 7 It appears, however, that the favourable opinion of the Senate was not shared by the generals and tax collectors. On this, see R. Bernhardt, Imperium und Eleutheria. Die römische Politik gegenüber der freien Städten des griechischen Ostens (Hamburg 1971), 150. 8 Strabo 14.1.23; Appian, Mithridatic wars 23.88; 21.1. 9 Plutarch, Sulla 12.3–5. Also Appian, Mithridatic wars 54; Diodorus 38.7; Pausanias 9.7.5 f.s; 9.27.3; 9.33.6; 10. 19.2. However, as far as their actions in Greece are concerned, we are aware of other less aggressive and favourable attitudes towards the temples, as in the cases of Delphi, Epidaurus and Olympia: Appian, Mithridatic wars 54; Pausanias 9.7.5 10 In this regard, other examples are the dispositions concerning the Jews which show total respect towards their religious customs and beliefs: Flavius Josephus, Antiquitates Judaicae 14.244–6. See Ph.-S. G. Freber, Der hellenistische Osten und das Illyricum unter Caesar (Stuttgart 1993), 76–81. 11 Freber 1993, op. cit. (n. 10), 116 f.

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Apart from this generally positive attitude towards the temples, the first Roman legal dispositions expressly taking the temples into account are included within the vast reorganization of the East carried out by Pompey12, published and popularized in the Pontian Amisus in 63 and ratified four years later in a lex Vatinia. It is hardly necessary to insist on the importance of these dispositions which entailed major modifications in the government of a sizeable portion of Anatolian territory. This was effectively a new plan for both the defence and the administration of the entire eastern region of Anatolia, whose starting point was the conversion of the former kingdom and remaining territories of the defeated Mithradates into the Roman province of Pontus, which was placed under the command of the governor of Bithynia.13 The remaining Anatolian territories to the east and south of the provinces of Asia and Bithynia were still governed by their monarchs, as was the case of Cappadocia under Ariobarzanes, or by different local rulers, albeit with modifications in the territories they controlled which were justified by Rome’s military needs regarding the protection of the region under its control or in its sphere of influence. Owing to the fact that Rome was reluctant to exert direct military control over its Anatolian provinces and that the cities had proved incapable of defending themselves, it was established that the more unstable territories were to be controlled by their own monarchs as “client princes” of Rome and only the more civilized and peaceful areas could have direct administration.14 However, the true nucleus of the reform lay in the effective introduction of urbanization, which until then had been barely present, into the ancient Pontian kingdom. To do this, Pompey divided the province among the territories of eleven cities, both ancient and recently founded, making these contiguous and also awarding them a constitution for their government.15 These new Pompeian laws affected two important temples, Zela and the Comana Pontica, although differently in each case.16 Strabo, practically our only source, offers some rather stereotypical descriptions of these and other temples. He 12 13

Plutarch, Pompeius 38.2; Dio 37.7a; Appian, Mithridatic wars 114–115. For a detailed analysis of the policies and actions of Pompey in Asia Minor cf. D. Magie, Roman Rule in Asia Minor (Princeton 1950), 351–378 with copious notes, shows a detailed study of Pompeian organization. Also, Mitchell 1993, op. cit. (n. 3), 31 ff. The work of Pompey is extremely copious and complex, affecting different Anatolian regions and kingdoms in various ways, with the subsequent changes in the awarding of different territories. It was indubitably a milestone in the establishment of a new manner of governing, directing and administering areas whose relationships with Rome were varied and therefore required different measures. 14 Magie 1950, op. cit. (n. 13), 368 ff. which takes account of earlier studies; Mitchell 1993, 32 ff. a more summarized and updated description. 15 Of the eleven cities, four already existed previously – Amisus, Sinope, Amastris and the former capital Amaseia-, while the seven remaining were creations of the Roman general, although not literally, given that they were rather a remodelling of ancient settlements in accordance with a well-known procedure used also by Hellenistic kings. On this common process and its application, see A. H. M. Jones, The Cities of the Eastern Roman Provinces (Oxford 1971, 2th ed.), 56 ff. 16 Strabo 12.3.31, provides information on the existence of other temples of similar characteristics in the ancient kingdom of Pontus, for example that of Ameria, dedicated to the Men Pharnakou (of Pharnaces) of Asia Minor but not affected by the Pompeian measures.

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places particular emphasis on the power the priests, who held appointments for life by virtue of their timé, still enjoyed over vast stretches of land, property of the temples at that time. This land and the thousands of hieroduloi who worked it were managed and controlled by such priests. Strabo also quotes traits characteristic of the evolution of each of these temples. Each of these two cases illustrates a different way of adapting and using ancient structures, and remodelling them to answer to the reality of the new political, military and administrative situation resulting from the conquest: in the first of the cases mentioned the policy was urbanization, with the creation of Greek-type cities in poorly or barely urbanized regions. The second example, however, showed no visible signs of external change, but made use of what was in existence, modifying its true content to Rome’s advantage. The temple of Zela, located in the central part of the valley of Iris, in a fertile area, was the centre for the cult of the Persian goddess Anahita, and the Persian gods Omanus and Anadatus, who shared in her honours. Strabo tells us that “the kings did not administer (dioikein) Zela as a city but as a temple to the Persian gods”17, an expression which obviously does not imply the existence of a city, but only that of a major temple, the structures of which he describes briefly in a more or less stereotyped description.18 In another passage by the same author on this enclave it is described as a polisma, that is to say, a “little city” while its inhabitants are hieroduloi. Pompey – continues the author – “transformed it into a city, adding considerable territory and settling its inhabitants within the walls”, since it was one of the cities, including the former Greek colonies, reorganized following the defeat of Mithradates.19 These modifications were immortalized in a lex Pompeia, which also provided the cities with a uniform constitution, based on the Greek model but incorporating characteristically Roman features.20 Zela was the only one which kept its former name.21 However, we do not know for certain how the cult was affected by the laws, and this gives rise to a series of questions which we can only 17 Strabo 12.3.37. 18 See Dignas 2002, op. cit. (n. 4), 228: she insists on Strabo’s comparison of Zela with a city, as the geographer’s interest concentrates on the cities of the area, not its temples. Hence the importance of the political aspects of these temples. 19 Strabo 11.8.4: the traits mentioned are common in any urbanizing process, as has already been stated. In addition to the aforementioned urbanizing reform, several adjacent regions were granted as a reward to native chiefs/governors who had supported Pompey during the war. 20 See Jones 1971, op. cit. (n. 15), 56 ff. on the Bithynian and Pontian cities affected. Communities were affected in terms of their citizen population, which had been increased with individuals who until then had not held citizen status. The aforementioned law established that the government of the cities was to be carried out by the magistrates chosen from citizens over the age of 30 and in a Council composed by ex-magistrates, appointed by duly appointed censors and also subject to expulsion by them for carefully specified motives. The introduction of this revision of the Council by the censors constitutes a characteristically Roman provision of the usual Greek model. 21 The others were renamed with a Greek denomination: Cabira and Eupatoria became Diospolis and Magnopolis (Strabo 12.3.30), a newly founded city, Nicopolis received some of the Pompeian soldiers who had been wounded in combat; Neapolis was founded in order to control the upper valley of the Halys. However, subsequently there were changes in these denominations.

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answer with hypotheses owing to our lack of data. Did the laws entail ousting the sacerdotal powers in favour of those attributed to the government of the new city? Was the entire territory belonging to the temple transformed into chora politiké or did the temple preserve some part in order to maintain its own cult activities? How were the hieroduloi affected? Did their legal status improve when they became inhabitants of the city?22 As for the Pontian temple-state of Comana, its size and importance, considerably greater than that of Zela, determined that the modifications adopted were to be carried out in a different way. Here there was no need for the creation of a new city in the style of the Greek poleis, since although the temple-state was in theory left intact, in fact it was placed under the control of a faithful servant of Rome and her interests23, a pattern often used by Rome in other territories under its power. The person chosen for this, as high priest, was Archelaus, who was of Pontian origin but educated under Roman influence.24 Despite appearances, Roman intervention determined major changes in Comana, although it made use of the pre-existing structures. It effectively lost its status as a temple-state and went on to acquire the status of semi-independent and hereditary principate, under Roman government.25 In time the situation established by Pompey would suffer modifications in accordance with the personal points of view of successive Roman leaders, who adapted to changing circumstances in governing Roman interests in Anatolia, both politically and administratively. Among Pompey’s successors the roles of Julius Caesar or of Augustus are worthy of mention, as is that of Mark Antony, who, following the Brindisi agreements, was put in charge of governing the East. A major part of the work carried out by Mark Antony consisted in laying down new disposi-

22

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So for instance, Diospolis, formerly Cabira, was renamed Sebaste by Pythodoris (Strabo 12.3.31), who adorned it and used the city as a royal residence. On this important matter, see A. Lozano, La esclavitud en Asia Menor helenística (Oviedo 1980). I am convinced that this was the case, fundamentally taking into account certain cases, such as that of Pergamon, reflected in the will and testament of Attalus III or that of Ephesus in the Mithradatic war. Both propose improvements in terms of legal status for entire population groups when faced with a crucial situation, something which could be equally plausible for Zela. In any case, this was a transitory situation since subsequently Zela recovered its sacred status, which implies it had not suffered important transformations. 12.3.34. In actual fact, the size was increased as 60 stadia were added to the sacred land belonging to the temple. This fact also meant that the inhabitants of this land were under the power of the high priest. The new governor – hegemon was the term used – also owned the sacred slaves, no fewer than 6000, who resided in the city (ton ten polin oikounton hierodoulon kyrios), with the sole limitation that he was not authorized to sell them. He was the son of the Pontian general of the same name, who collaborated with the Romans in the fight against King Mithridates (Strabo, ibidem). On his later career see Strabo 12.3.34 and 17 p. 796; Plutarch, Antonius 3.5 ff.; Dio 39.57 ff. His son Archelaus succeeded him in Comana as Strabo tells us (12.3.34–35); his grandson was appointed King of Cappadocia by Antony. The same questions posed on the continuity of the cult in Zela arise in the case of Comana.

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tions regarding the client kingdoms26 and the reappearance of the kingdom of Pontus falls within this framework.27 The new king chosen was Polemon28, although he did not rule all the territories awarded to the Roman province created by Pompey from the old Mithridatic kingdom.29 These measures had repercussions for both the temples under study here: on the one hand, Zela recovered its formal sacred status, so as to become a sort of temple-city or “sacred principate”30, a situation which was to continue a few more years until the definitive secularization that took place under Augustus, probably in the year 3 BC.31 Comana, on the other hand, maintained its independence under its priest Lycomedes.32 Both temples also benefited from the granting of new territo26

27 28

29 30

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32

On the organization by M. Antony of a network of client kingdoms and its strategic motivations, see Mitchell 1993, op. cit. (n. 3), 37 ff. Following the defeat of the Parthian invasion led by Labienus the consul of P. Ventidius in 43 BC, Antony took a series of measures aimed at controlling the route of the invasion in order to prevent it from being repeated (see next footnote). Regarding Pontus, in the year 39 Darius, son of Pharnaces and grandson of King Mithradates VI was appointed king: we can only speculate on the reasons for this. However, he was soon ousted by Polemon. This individual, originally from Laodicea-Lycus, was son of the orator Zenon, who pleaded with the inhabitants of the city to resist Labienus and the Parthians, remaining faithful to Rome. This attitude was to win them the favour of the new rulers. As a man of proven loyalty, he was chosen by Rome to wield control in territories over which it still had little influence (Strabo 12.8.9; Dio 48.26–7). So, before his appointment as king of Pontus, he was posted to the south of Anatolia by Antony in 39 and was awarded a kingdom in Cilicia with parts of Lycaonia, including Iconium, its capital. The Cilician Gates, an important pass through the Taurus mountain range, were thus left under his control. Another person often mentioned in the dispositions of Antony is the Galatian Amyntas, an old and trusted friend of Deiotarus, who was also awarded a kingdom formed by the territories of Pisidia and Phrygia Paroreius, including the cities of Antioch and Apollonia: see Appian, Bella Civilia 5. 75; Strabo 12.6.4; 8.16. The independence of the kingdom of Pontus was maintained after the death of Polemon, ruled by his widow, Queen Pythodoris, who later married Archelaus of Cappadocia, whom she equally outlived. See Strabo 11.2.18; 12.3.29, 31 ff., 34, 37. It is unlikely that in the time that elapsed between the lex Pompeia, with the changes proposed in it, and the actions of Antony major and noticeable modifications would have taken place in Zela, due to its transformation into a city: this would mainly be reflected on a judicial level, applicable both to sacred territories and to the peasants in charge of working them, formerly the hieroduloi of the temple. On this matter, see n. 22. This date can be established assuming that the mention in Strabo 12.3.37, according to which Zelitis, the area where the temple of Zela was situated, belonged to Pythodoris was written no earlier than 3/2 BC. This meant that around 3 BC the properties of the temple would have been secularized, this time definitively, and distributed among the Romans and the Pontian kings, who would receive the temple-city itself and the surrounding territory. For the circumstances that explain all this, see Magie 1950, op. cit. (n. 13), 1285 n. 25 and 1329 n. 49. Strabo.12.3.34–35; Appian, Mithridatic wars 121. Lycomedes owed his appointment as high priest to Caesar. The previous one, Archelaus, had been appointed by Pompey, as already stated. Following his death in Egypt in 55 BC Archelaus was succeeded by his son, but Caesar removed him from the post, replacing him with Lycomedes, Bithynian in origin but in some way connected with the Cappadocian kings (Bellum Alexandrinum 66. 5: its author confuses the Comana Pontica with that of Cappadocia). The reasons for the change, although not stated expressly, were without doubt political: Caesar aimed to have as an ally someone loyal to him

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ries, which in the case of Comana were much greater than those previously received. Years later, in the time of Augustus and Strabo, the geographer portrayed the place as populous, describing it as an emporion for the peoples of Armenia, although he emphasized the religious festivities held there in honour of a goddess syncretized with the Greek Aphrodite.33 This halted one of the most significant aspects of Pompeian organization, which in this respect had inherited the policies of the Hellenistic kings, particularly the Seleucids, policies also followed by Pontian and Bithynian monarchs: the introduction of urbanization into a territory which, with the exception of cities situated on the Pontian coast, previously had few such nuclei. It was a kind of regression, a return to the primitive structures Pompey had attempted to overcome. In any case, what has been stated so far implies the inexistence of clear Roman policies on temples: according to Mitchell, the decisions attempting to provide responses for the circumstances of the time changed rapidly, making the solutions applied to the problems of the year 63 seem inappropriate for those arising in 37. Despite their differences, the policies of Pompey and Antony had one point in common: Galatian leaders always occupied a prominent position as, except for Polemon and the temple-states of Zela and Comana, the kingdoms and cities of the rest of central and mid-eastern Anatolia were in their hands.34 The dispositions of the Roman leaders in the final republican era and at the end of Augustus’s reign did not, however, affect all the temples. We know some of the large ones maintained the traditional organization already mentioned. This is the case of those found in a kingdom such as Cappadocia, a region which only became a Roman province shortly after the death of Augustus. There, two particularly important temples were found: Comana, in the central mountainous region, dedicated to the mother goddess Ma and Venasa, devoted to Zeus, in the west.35 Strabo’s description of both, stereotyped to a greater or lesser degree, is similar to that of other temples, but includes pertinent points. Thus, Comana appears as a polis axiologos, where there were many inspired people, plethos theophoreton, and hieroduloi; its inhabitants were Cataons, subjects of the king but “ruled”, hypakouontes, by the priest, the importance of whose position is always recalled, since his authority is inferior only to that of the king. Practically no changes had taken place there during the monarchic era; in fact, according to Strabo, at the start of this period one could only speak of the existence of two poleis, Mazaca rather than a family appointed to the post and therefore indebted to his enemy Pompey. This would have been the reason for removing the son of Archelaus from power. 33 Strabo 12.3.36. 34 See the detailed analysis of this question in Mitchell 1993, op. cit. (n. 3), 37 ff., which provides accounts of all the contingents, particularly the Galatians, with their leaders in the different campaigns carried out. 35 Information on these is found in Strabo 12.2.2; 2.3 (Comana). However, the word polis here may well be an unmarked term, used to generically designate a larger human agglomeration with public buildings, but still without the requisites characteristic of the polis which it would acquire in Flavian times, when its name was changed to Hierapolis: see R. Harper, “Tituli Comanorum Cappadociae”, Anatolian Studies 18 (1968), 96–149. For Venasa, Strabo 12.2.6.

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and Tyana36, despite the fact that, from the second century BC and until the reign of the last king, Archelaus37, the kings tried to carry out a certain “Hellenization” as can be seen from their change of names (both were rechristened Eusebeia) and the introduction of such Greek institutions as the gymnasium.38 All this would also favour the application of similar measures in Comana: in fact, in Augustan times the temple and surrounding land were reorganized as a city, and the term is found in Strabo, where the inhabitants, collectively named demos, were subject to the authority of the king. However, the priesthood did not disappear, since one of the texts studied by Harper39 mentions the mother of five archiereis. All this indicates that Cappadocian monarchs in some way followed the guidelines set by the Hellenistic kings, but at a later stage, as stated above. Yet another of these important temples in Asia Minor was that of Pessinus in the Phrygian-Galatian area. Devoted to the Mother of the gods (Agdistis), Strabo tells us it was a great trading centre (emporion megiston) and “in past times the priests were dynasts who enjoyed the possibilities on offer from a large and powerful priesthood, but now their prerogatives have been drastically reduced, although they conserve the benefits of a great sacred dominion”40. Thus, a brief description is offered of the evolution undergone by the temple in Hellenistic times. The text clearly refers to the protection received from the Attalids, also attested to in inscriptions, as well as the decline which followed the establishment of the Roman province of Asia. This shows that the Roman presence, with the subsequent introduction of an administrative and fiscal apparatus, had negative repercussions on the 36

Strabo 12.2.7. Both had been founded during the middle of the second century BC by Ariarathes V of Cappadocia 37 I am referring to the foundation of Archelais, transformed in the middle of the first century into a Roman colony. 38 In actual fact, a gymnasium (cf. SEG I 466) is attested to, organized and directed by a gymnasiarch following the Greek system, in Tyana, one of the only two cities existing in Cappadocia (Strabo 12.2.7). The document quoted is a list of gymnasiarchs dedicated to Ariarathes VI Epiphanes by a former gymnasiarch and agonothetes on the occasion of the competition or feast in honour of Hermes and Heracles. 39 Harper 1968, op. cit. (n. 35), 103 f. 40 12. 5. 3. Its geographical situation on the major route that joined the Aegean coast with the inner Anatolian regions was also largely responsible for its wealth. This is particularly attested to by its monetary issues of the second and first centuries, which constitute a unique case of issues of coins: Bogaert 196, 296. To indicate the power enjoyed by priests in past times, the geographer uses the term dynasteia, generally applied to powerful people who control a certain territory, a clearly political designation. Hence it would allude to the secular side of the power of the priests of Pessinus. For matters of the material evolution of the enclave, P. Lambrechts-J. Strubbe-M. Waelkens-G. Stoops, “Les fouilles de Pessinonte: le temple”, L’Antiquité Classique 12 (1972), 156 ff. The archaeologists at the site confirm activity in the stage prior to the establishment of Roman authority (the creation of the Roman province of Galatia in 25 BC): see J. Devreker-H. Thoen-F. Vermeulen, Excavations in Pessinus: the so-called Acropolis; from Hellenistic and Roman cemetery to Byzantine castle (Gent 2003), 338 ff.: they equally maintain that between the end of the first century and until the late 100s-250 AD, there is a period particularly noted for low activity, already hinted at in some measure from the end of the Augustan era, and which illustrates the consequences of Roman dominion. On the role of the temple within the political game of the time, Dignas 2002, op. cit. (n. 4).

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situation of the temple. The priests of Pessinus themselves, taking advantage of their prestige in Rome, sent embassies to the Senate in an attempt to prevent the loss both of their own privileges and of the revenues of the temple.41 It is precisely for these reasons that the temple held such an important position in the wider context of early Roman presence in the central regions of inner Anatolia, which were governed by many different local lords or leaders, a political panorama which the dispositions of Pompey aimed to settle in an attempt to establish some degree of stability in the region.42 Two essential key factors in achieving this were the indispensable military collaboration between locals and Romans on the one hand, and personal relationships on the other.43 Galatia was of vital importance within the political fabric of the entire region, due to its geographical situation: military support provided by the Galatians to Roman leaders was essential in maintaining control of the territory, as was recognized in the dispositions of both parties.44 In the years that followed, one of the Galatian tetrarch-kings, Brogitarus, obtained the privilege, recognized by the Senate, of appointing the high priest of Pessinus, thus gaining control of the temple45, but this apparently never came to be, as Deiotarus also hankered after this privilege and claimed it for himself. His success is attested to by accounts documenting his control over Pessinus around the middle of the first century BC.46 This entire episode is of great interest for several reasons, as it highlights the striking interest in controlling the temple and the stratagems employed to attain this, proving that this was no minor matter. The prestige inherent in the priesthood 41

See Diod. 36. 13. 3; Polybius 21.37; 21.6.7. B. Virgilio, Il “tempio stato” di Pessinunte fra Pergamo e Roma nel II–I secolo a. C (C. B. Welles RC 55–61) (Pisa 1981), 24–32; Dignas 2002, op. cit. (n. 4), 229 ff. 42 In addition to the chapters corresponding to the aforementioned work by Magie 1950, op. cit. (n. 13); Mitchell 1993, op. cit. (n. 3), 27 ff. offers a detailed explanation of the Roman action in inner Anatolia, of the political situation there and of relations between Romans and the different political groups which existed. 43 We find a profound and enlightening treatment of the scope of these personal relations in the work of G. W. Bowersock, Augustus and the Greek world (Oxford 1965). Even at the very beginning it highlights how the mutual interests between men of the East and West constituted the true foundation of the Roman Empire in Asia, a fact perfectly understood by Augustus. Regarding this, we have multiple accounts of the friendship of generals and other important Roman personalities with Asian politicians, kings, eminent characters and intellectuals which constituted the fundamental base of Roman influence in Anatolia. 44 Thus, those by Pompey established distribution among the surviving tetrarchs, Deiotarus of the Tolistobogi, Brogitarus of the Trocmi and another, whose name is not known, of the Tectosagi, although the treatment given to each by Pompey differed. Deiotarus was the most favoured, as not only was his hegemony in Galatia confirmed but he was also awarded other more distant territories of Asia Minor. Brogitarus also benefited, although not as much as the previous tetrarch, and soon afterwards they were both awarded royal titles. 45 The underground tactics that led to this decision by the Senate, basically the bribes promised by Brogitarus to Clodius in exchange for his favourable intervention before the Senate, are revealed in Cicero’s attacks on Clodius in the year 56. See Mitchell 1993, op. cit. (n. 3), 34. 46 Plutarch, Cato Minor 15. There are also accounts of the mintings carried out in Pessinus by Deiotarus: cf. J. Devreker-M. Waelkens, Les fouilles de la Rijkuniversiteit te Gent à Pessinonte I (1967–73) (Brugge 1984), 17.

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of a greatly venerated cult, along with the economic possibilities derived from working its resources or the exchanges which took place there, provided the rulers with a potential for influence and power which justified their attempts to establish control over all of them. Moreover, the same considerations applied to Rome, given that important Roman politicians, such as P. Clodius Pulcher, were actively involved in the matter of appointing the high priest, demonstrating the religious, political and financial importance of this appointment. As for the rest, we have already mentioned some of the other accounts relating to Pessinus which show the close contact between the Galatian leaders who were in charge of the sanctuary as priests, and the Romans. In any case, Pessinus did not escape the process of secularization of major religious centres, since a polis-type urban grouping was probably already in development there in the times of the Galatian tetrarchs47, as mentioned above. This did not prevent the cult from maintaining a significant role in imperial times, or the significant recovery of the area from the middle of the third century onwards.48 The case of Olba, frequently described as a “sacred principate” is different, but its evolution could also be deemed an example of the process described earlier.49 The temple, the seat of an ancient cult to the autochthonous deity, Tarku, syncretized with Zeus, strengthened its territorial position throughout the third century BC, and came to control an extensive area of Western Cilicia or Thrace. This area was considered strategic to the interests of the Seleucids and had been coveted by the Ptolomeans for a considerable part of the Hellenistic era.50 The same could also be said of the foundation of Seleucia ad Calicadnos, which occurred between 296– 280 BC, but did not thwart the progressive importance acquired by Olba throughout the third century BC and maintained afterwards. Proof of this is offered by the mention of its priests as “dynasts” of the Thracian territory, which shows they enjoyed not only religious, but also secular, political and territorial power, this last similar and comparable to that held by other “tyrants” in the region, as stated by Strabo.51 47 48 49 50

51

In the inscription OGIS 533, from the Tiberian era, Pessinus appears as a polis. See Magie 1950, op. cit. (n. 13), 455. This is shown by the conclusions of the archaeological study. See Devreker-Thoen-Vermeulen 2003, op. cit. (n. 40), 338 ff. Its description is found in Strabo 14.5.10. As stated by Magie, an invented genealogy composed in the Hellenistic period alleged that the temple and the priestly dynasty had been founded by Ajax, son of Teucer, who fought at Troy and subsequently became governor of Salamis of Cyprus. Indeed, this is why the priests of Olba were always addressed by these names, although older ones would have had names such as Tarkyaris (MAMA III 69), derived from the original divinity, Tarku, Hellenized to Teucer from the third century BC. See Magie 1950, op. cit. (n.13), 269 and 1143–4, n. 23 for epigraphic accounts of the priests and the evolution of their names. The fortification of the spot where Olba was situated, which can be dated back to the Hellenistic period, as well as other constructions, towers and forts nearby, both on the coast itself or immediately inland, informs of the need for defence and protection of the area, taking into account the aforementioned strategic interest. 14.5.10; Appian, Mithridatic wars 117. Boffo 1985, op. cit. (n. 1), 45 broaches the extremely intriguing possibility that this increase in the power of Olba and its priests might have taken

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What has been stated up to now explains both their proven intervention in the Seleucid dynastic battles and in contemporary conflicts52, and the importance of the appointment of the high priest within the temple. Thus, the Teucrids must have had to confront the aspirations shown by the other competitors, dynasts or tyrants around them, some of whom were just pirates or bandit chiefs in control of the Cilician coast. One of these, Zenophanes, satisfied these aspirations when he took over the main sacred post, later marrying his daughter Aba to a member of the Teucrid dynasty and legitimizing the family rights of his descendants to the high priesthood, that is to say, to the control of the principate. Therefore, when the distribution of the dismembered parts of what had previously been the province of Cilicia was carried out after the death of Caesar and completed in the year 38 BC, Aba, daughter of Zenophanes, managed to preserve her power in Olba thanks to her good relations with Antony and Cleopatra when the former granted her the control of the temple-principate.53 The situation described thus tells of the evolution of all aspects of secular power in the temple during the Hellenistic period, and already in the first century BC this was visibly following the lines of what has already been seen in the other major temples under study. The new reality which existed under Roman dominion finds its most eloquent representation in the mention of its priest not as a dynastes but as a king, basileus.54 Not only does this emphasize the political character of its temple and priests, but it also reflects the culmination of the process of evolution and their subsequent transformation into a territorial civil entity and as such, objects of attention in the successive territorial reorganizations of Asia Minor, under the Roman rulers who included it in their administrative framework. The awarding of the status of city to the population group which had appeared around the temple and which was given the theonym of Diocesarea is also in tune with this situation.55 All we have said above therefore indicates that Olba was organized as a semi-independent place parallel to certain symptoms of Hellenization, visible in the onomastics and which could be explained as a tool to remain in power, within the framework of recognition of the Seleucid sovereignty imposed particularly by the actions of Antiochus III towards the Lagidae (Livy 20.4). This powerful and influential position in western Cilicia could also serve as justification for the role of the Olban priesthood in Seleucid dynastic struggles alongside Alexander Balas. 52 It is through this position of power and influence in western Cilicia that the role of the Olban priesthood is justified in the Seleucid dynastic battles alongside Alexander Balas. 53 Political and economic motivations fuelled this friendship: for Antony, as has already been mentioned, as strong supporter of the system of client kingdoms, organized and strengthened by him in the Mediterranean east, maintaining Aba was advantageous in the control of this key region of the Cilician coast; in the case of Cleopatra, economic interests were vital, as there was a need to stock up on timber to build a fleet and this material was to be found in abundance in the forests of the Cilician mountains. 54 In the mentions of the priests as dynastes, the term is not used alone but is preceded by the sacred title of archiereus. The priest Polemon III (41–69 AD) appears as a king on coins of M. Antony in the first century: cf. G.M. Staffieri, La monetazione di Olba nella Cilicia Trachea (Lugano 1978), 22, nº 35–37. 55 See Magie 1950, op. cit. (n. 13), 1143; Boffo 1985, op. cit. (n. 1), 46–7, n. 161 compares the case of Olba to that of the Comana Pontica which has already been examined, although in this case the priest is not presented as king, but this also refers to an earlier era.

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principate, client or vassal of Rome, a system intended to direct it and other temple organizations – such as that analysed earlier, the Comana Pontica – into the Roman political and administrative (power) structure of provincial territories in the East. The new model also complied with the objective of directing or regulating the authority of the major priesthoods of Asia Minor, which had practically become agents of the Roman magistrates, appointed and removed at will by the Roman government or its representatives. In actual fact this meant their disappearance as an “eastern” priesthood. They could only survive by accepting the new rules of the game. They must thus have adopted some characteristics of a Greek type, more acceptable to Roman authority, with the priesthood as a symbol of social prestige, but not of political power. As our sources focus on political matters there are many questions about aspects of the cult as such which as we mentioned above are subject to hypothesis due to lack of factual accounts. Another important temple in Asia Minor to be analysed within the context we are working on is that of Men Askaenus in Antioch of Pisidia, an example of the varied intervention systems of Roman authority.56 As in the other cases, Strabo also provides us with a description, focusing to a greater or lesser extent on the usual topics. Of its priest he adds that he possessed plethos ierodoulon kai chorion hieron, but that the katelythe priesthood, “was dissolved”, following the death of Amyntas, by those who had been sent as his heirs. With these details he briefly summarizes the situation of the temple at the time. The known antecedents, also quoted by the same author, speak of Antioch as a colony founded by the Seleucids and arising from the usual motives of strategic and territorial control in an area where Seleucid hegemony was more theoretical than real. The new colony would have been expected to strengthen this presence, while protecting communications between the Aegean and the Mediterranean east. The fact that it was founded by people from Magnesia ad Maeandrum implies that there were no settlements of importance in these locations.57 56

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According to Strabo 12.8.14, the temple was located “to pros Antiocheiai tei pros Pisidiai” near Antioch “close to Pisidia”. However, Strabo quotes another temple devoted to Men in the same territory of Antioch. See Jones 1971, 10, n. 58. The fundamental study on the city and its temple is that of S. Mitchell-M. Waelkens, Pisidian Antioch. The site and its monuments (London 1998). Perhaps owing to this situation and given the distance between Antioch and the temple, its foundation did not entail changing the distribution of territorial property, as in order to provide the relevant territory there was no need to resort to the confiscation of some part of Men’s sacred properties, a political practice which moreover was not particularly popular among Hellenistic monarchs, despite what was once thought. T.R.S. Broughton, “Roman Asia Minor” in T. Frank, An economic survey of ancient Rome, vol. 4 (Baltimore 1938), 643–6, 676–684 initially held that resorting to the confiscation of sacred properties was common practice, but then went on to support the opposite theory in what is currently the most extensive and accepted line of thought. Cf. T.R.S. Broughton, “New Evidence on Temple-Estates in Asia Minor” in Studies in honor of Allan Chester Johnson (Princeton 1951), 236 ff., 237, 242 f.; K.-W. Welwei, “Abhängige Landbevölkerung auf “Tempelterritorien” im hellenistischen Kleinasien und Syrien”, Ancient Society 10 (1979), 99 ff., 117; Boffo 1985, op. cit. (n. 1), 284; Brandt 1992, op. cit. (n. 2), 71 ff.

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As Strabo states, the temple and its territories, dedicated to an ancient divinity from Asia Minor, the lunar god Men, was a centre of worship in Hellenistic times. The widely reported practice of the cult of Men in the south-western region of Anatolia indicates that its origins predated the foundation of the city, although the absence of Hellenistic inscriptions prevents us from stating this in full certainty. It is precisely this lack of epigraphic evidence which makes it impossible to find out how far back the organization of the temple as described by Strabo goes. The archaeological study of the sacred area simply confirms its continued occupation as well as the survival of the cult, at least between the early third century and late imperial times.58 The temple of Men is Hellenistic, definitely dating from the second century BC, and clearly influenced by the temple of Magnesia ad M. dedicated to Artemis Leukophryna and Zeus Sosipolis. Mitchell highlights the fact that the sanctuary is a purely Greek construction, with no architectural evidence of “eastern” or “Anatolian” cult. The same is true of the other, smaller temple, also dedicated to Men, with a ground plan similar to the temple in honour of Zeus Sosipolis in Magnesia. This strongly suggests that it must have been the colonizers who transferred the plan from the city of origin to the colony, and adorned their city with two constructions very similar to the Magnesian ones, and in the same Ionic style, in the second century BC. Moreover, given the political consequences of the Treaty of Apamea, including the hegemony of Pergamon over most of the cities to the west of the Halys river, including Antioch, the hypothesis that Pergamon, determined to impose its power in the region, was involved in this construction development, seems to ring true. Once more, a “religious” method was used with political ends, in line with the other cases we have studied, such as those of Pessinus or Aezanoi.59 The next stage in the history of the temple is already marked by the Roman presence, justified in legal terms by the kingdom Augustus inherited from the Galatian Amyntas, a matter which has been widely discussed in historical research. Thus, there is some academic debate on whether part of the royal properties were sacred territories of the temple of Men, allegedly already confiscated by the Galatian king and subsequently owned by Augustus upon receiving his inheritance.60 Be that as it may, this legacy led to the appearance of the province of Galatia, created immediately after the death of the king in 25 BC. Among the first measures adopted in the new province we find the foundation of several colonies of Roman veterans. Part of the properties recently inherited from Amyntas were added to their territories and the rest to the private properties of

58 Mitchell 1993, op. cit. (n. 3), 7 ff.; the inscriptions attest to the survival of the cult in imperial times as they mention its priests. It was excavated as early as the start of the twentieth century by Sir W. M. Ramsay, The cities and bishoprics of Phrygia, 2 vols (Oxford 1895–7); see Magie 1950, op. cit. (n. 13), 1316, n. 22. 59 Mitchell 1998, op. cit. (n. 56), 7 and 66–7. 60 So, among others, Broughton 1938, op. cit. (n. 57), 642. The theory of the reduction of sacred land as a result of confiscations by the kings was already formulated by Ramsay 1895–97, op. cit. (n. 58), and followed by other scholars, particularly Broughton.

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the Princeps.61 One of these colonies, the so-called Caesarean Colony, was in Antioch, and it is thought that its territory consisted of sacred properties confiscated from Men Askaenus. It is difficult to know whether this was the work of Amyntas or Augustus, that is to say, whether these major modifications were carried out by the Galatian king or the Princeps. The foundation of the colonies by Augustus, as powerful tools for Romanization, highlights his interest in the region. This colonization can no longer be viewed as a continuation of the policies of the Hellenistic kings, but is rather characteristically Roman, being used frequently in other conquered territories. Its implementation in the East, which had been the stage for so many settlements or colonies, could however be considered as an innovation62 already used by Caesar, representing the introduction into that part of the Greek world of a typically Roman form of political administration. The inhabitants, Roman citizens, were to form the main nucleus of population and act as the focal point of Roman expansion, however open and susceptible to local cultural influences they might have been.63 Regarding the organization of Antioch we know specifically of the existence of a curator arcae sanctuarii64, in charge of the finances of the sanctuary, which proves that these were considered separately and therefore differentiated from those of the city. According to Barbara Levick65, this post, part of the cursus honorum of the colony, may well have been hereditary, to judge from epigraphic evidence, following a trend which was, moreover, normal for other posts – certainly those of priestly office – and widely documented in the epigraphy of Asia Minor. The reference to its financial status clearly manifests not only the continued existence of the temple, but also the profound transformation which entailed a lessening of its eco61 Dio 53.26.3. On the foundations of colonies Magie 1950, op. cit. (n. 13), 1316, n. 22, states that of the six colonies founded, three pre-existed as poleis – Antioch, Cremna and Parlais – so they would already have had their own territory, although it is not possible to rule out the possibility that new land was awarded to them through the establishment of Roman colonies. B. Levick, Roman colonies in Southern Asia Minor (Oxford 1967), 28 ff. holds the thesis that the colonies must be seen in the context of the war against the Homanadenses, a hostile Pisidian tribe, whose submission was one of the main objectives of the policy of Augustus in the region; afterwards, Pisidia would have been completely pacified and the colonies would have played a decisive role in their subsequent development. As for Antioch, it was the first colony in the year 25 BC. 62 The work of Augustus in Pisidia was preceded by that of Caesar in regions such as Pontus or Galatia, where he established some colonies similar to ones that existed in Italy. See Magie 1950, op. cit. (n. 13), 460 ff. and 493. 63 T. Esch, “Zur Frage der sogenannten Doppelgemeinden. Die caesariche und augusteische Kolonisation in Kleinasien” in E. Winter (ed.), Vom Euphrat bis zum Bosporus. Kleinasien in der Antike (Bonn 2008), 199–216: 199 ff., in an interesting article raises the issue of the coexistence in the Asian Roman colonies of two communities differentiated from a legal point of view: one belonging to the colonizers, Roman citizens with whom the elite of the previous inhabitants integrated, and the other, doubtless numerically predominant, that of the incolae, former inhabitants of the region who were excluded from participation in public life as a result of not possessing Roman citizenship. In the case of Antioch this duality is clearly attested in the edict delivered by L.Antistius Rusticus in the year 92–93. 64 CIL III 6839 f. 65 Levick 1967, op. cit. (n. 61), 85 ff.

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nomic importance and its independence, bearing in mind the “suppression” of the priesthood. As for the cult “sensu stricto”, it continued to exist throughout imperial times. So, in my opinion at least, the “suppression” of the priests mentioned by Strabo must be understood in relative instead of absolute terms: the old priesthood, powerful and influential among the peasant population, and the importance and privileges inherent to the form traditionally found in the temples of Asia Minor studied, disappeared. Thus, with the temple stripped of its traditional sacerdotal system and wealth – the sacred lands and the workers associated with them – the new priests would have much less political importance than their predecessors, and would have lost the independence they previously enjoyed. Although, as usual, nothing is expressly stated regarding the cult, we may presume its characteristic elements continued as before, given the aforementioned respect Rome had for the religio of its subjects.66 It is therefore evident that the Roman treatment of the temple of Men Askaenus differs from that of other temples mentioned earlier such as Comana, Olba, etc. Unlike them it was not transformed into one of the client and vassal “principates” of Rome. It was stripped of independence and incorporated into the city, its priests deliberately deprived of any political and economic independence, a typically Roman form of action, carried out by different means depending on the circumstances of each temple. Within the debate on the land belonging to the temples, the formation of the properties and the policies of successive rulers, we cannot fail to mention the temple of Zeus of Aezanoi, in Phrygia, explicitly documented in epigraphic sources, although these are difficult to interpret, being dated to the time of Hadrian but referring back to events from the Hellenistic era: the content is well known and discusses the donation of land by Attalus I of Pergamon and Prusias I of Bithynia to the temple of Zeus.67 Accordingly, this information focuses on the temple of Zeus, so it seems necessary to provide a context for the cult before assessing the information. It is clear that the oldest divinity of this area was not in fact the Greek god: this privilege, according to Pausanias68, belongs to the Meter Steuene (or Steunene), an epithet deriving from the cave of Steunos where one of the numerous Mothers deeply rooted in the religiosity of Anatolia, particularly in Phrygia, was worshipped. Some archaeologists, including Rheidt, basing themselves on the finds from the cave and surrounding area believe the sanctuary of the Meter could date from as far back as Phrygian times, around the sixth century BC.69 This means that the spot where Aezanoi was later situated had been known for centuries as an enclave of

66 See Broughton 1938, op. cit. (n. 57); Bowersock 1965, op. cit. (n. 43), 52. 67 A detailed study of the temple is offered by R. Naumann, Der Zeustempel zu Aizanoi (Berlin 1979). 68 Pausanias 8.4.3. 69 One of the most characteristic elements is the presence of rock excavated as a throne for the goddess, frequent from Phrygian times in the Phrygian and eastern Anatolian areas (see n. 73).

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worship of a mother goddess70, although this does not necessarily imply that it was formally institutionalized in any way. Although they date from a later stage, we can also find representations of the cult of another female divinity, Artemis, the Greek equivalent of the Anatolian Meter, first appearing at the time of Caligula, and later in the period of Claudius.71 The question of when the cult of Zeus appears cannot be answered with complete certainty, but it is not surprising to find the figure deeply rooted in certain local traditions and in regions of Asia Minor, like Pergamon, where he appears as son of the Meter.72 However, it seems logical to think that in times of the Kings Attalus I and Prusias I Zeus must have enjoyed sufficient prestige to justify royal action. Against this background, the key question – greatly debated of course – is whether it is possible to speak of a double cult of the Meter and Zeus in the temple of Zeus in Hadrian’s time. The answer depends largely on how the subterranean space of the sanctuary is interpreted and whether it had a cult function or not.73 As regards the configuration of the settlement, the archaeological study of the enclave reveals that urban planning as such only makes an appearance in the middle of the second century AD, and it can be seen how the monuments erected at that stage within Aezanoi fit into this plan, except for the fact that they were all erected on the west bank of the river Penkalas, while the primitive settlement from later Hellenistic times was located on the opposite bank, the eastern one. Little can be said of its size, appearance and development until the first half of the first century 70 Actually the most ancient finds from Aezanoi, dating back to the Hellenistic period, are found in the surrounding area of the cave, as Naumann 1979, op. cit. (n. 67), 86 already recognized. 71 On the religious aspects of the site, cf. Naumann 1979, op. cit. (n. 67). 72 L. Robert, Documents de l’Asie Mineure (Paris 1987), 352 ff., 359–60; E. V. Hansen, The Attalids of Pergamon, (Ithaca-New York 1971 2nd ed.), 400 ff.; Boffo 1985, op. cit. (n. 1), 108. 73 The older archaeologists, like Martin Schede, for instance (as included in Naumann 1967, 218 ff.), H. Weber, “Der Zeustempel von Aezani. Ein panhellenisches Heiligtum der Kaiserzeit”, Mittellungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts(A) 84 (1969), 182–201), or more recently S. Mitchell, “Recent archaeology and the development of cities in Hellenistic and Roman Asia Minor”, in E. Schwertheim-E. Winter, Stadt und Stadtentwiclung in Kleinasien (Bonn 2003), 21–34, 31, defend its use for the cult of the Meter Steuene. To support this they quote an inscription found in Gediz (formerly the Macedonian colony of Kadoi), to the south of Aezanoi, dedicated to both divinities: K. Rheidt “Romischer Luxus-Anatolisches Erbe. Aizanoi in Phrygien-Entdeckung, Ausgrabung und neue Forschungsergebnisse”, Antike Welt 28.6 (1998), 479–499, 484–8 denies this on the grounds that given the provenance of this inscription, it does not refer to Aezanoi. However, among the reasons he suggests to justify his claim of cult use, Weber 1969 (see above), 191 ff. quotes the find of two large accroterion-busts, one representing the Meter, in the western part of the temple through which it was possible to gain access to the subterranean room under discussion, and the other, with what is probably an image of Atis, in the eastern part. Equally the actual western orientation of the temple is quite illuminating as it corresponds to that of the large temples devoted to Artemis in Asia Minor, such as those of Ephesus, Magnesia ad Maeandrum or Sardis. He also highlights that the fact it was not unusual to worship two different divinities of different character is to be seen in the same temple in Asia Minor, as in the cases of Magnesia ad Maeandrum (Zeus in the cella and Tyche in the opisthodome); in the temple of Augustus in Ankara the cella was dedicated to the cult of the emperor and the opisthodome to Rome; in Priene, the cult of Augustus was practiced in the temple of Athens.

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AD, when considerable modifications took place with the construction of two marble temples, the first dedicated to Artemis, followed by another dedicated to Zeus. The ceramics found, particularly in the tombs, testify to the improvement in its general situation. Aezanoi had become a major centre of ceramic production in central Anatolia.74 Subsequently, from the first half of the second century, the development of the city – with the construction of a new centre as well as representative buildings, including the new temple of Zeus – mainly took place on the other side of the river, on the western bank.75 As has already been said, there had previously been a temple to Zeus dating back to the times of Domitian, smaller than that built during Hadrian’s reign, with a façade of four columns and, like the later temple, documented on coins.76 It was only after the completion of this construction programme that the configuration of a single plan around two axes which included both banks of the river can be said to have been carried out. From the second half of the second century, the primitive Hellenistic settlement where the new monument buildings were situated was integrated into the new part of the city. All this information, gathered through archaeological study, has greatly expanded our knowledge of the city, but has unfortunately been insufficient to clarify some of the more interesting points of the epigraphic documents, which are confusing and lacking in details regarding certain important aspects. Firstly, bearing in mind the location of the Aezanoi settlement, the causes leading to the donations of land by Attalus and Prusias77 could in principle only be of a political nature given the situation of both kingdoms and their interest in controlling this sphere.78 The system for land donation to the temple was merely a tool for gaining the sympathies of priests and cult followers, that is to say, of the population, in order to prevent any opposition or resistance to the presence of both, regardless of whether these kings favoured the cult to a greater or lesser extent. Otherwise, the actual transfer of land implies the existence in Aezanoi of an already “institutionalized” priesthood, with strong support and social standing among the inhabitants of 74 For recent findings in the excavations in Aezanoi, cf K. Rheidt, “Aizanoi. Bericht über die Ausgrabungen und Untersuchungen 1992 und 1993”, Archäologischer Anzeiger (1995), 693– 718. 75 The new city was planned on the opposite bank of the primitive settlement because it was higher and so protected them from the rising levels of the river which usually occurred when the ice thawed. A panorama of the history of the digs with a detailed description of the buildings discovered in the city and their chronology developed is found in Rheidt 1997, op. cit. (n. 73), 479–499. 76 The archaeologist of the enclave, Rheidt 1995, op. cit. (n. 74), 715, n. 66, echoes the questions arising as to whether the representations on coins correspond to real images, in this case, that of the temple. 77 For the publication and examination of the entire study see U. Laffi, “I terreni del tempio di Zeus ad Aizanoi”, Athenaeum 49 (1971), 3–53; B. Levick-St. Mitchell-J. Potter-M. Waelkens, MAMA 9 (1988), 36–43 and 4–6, nº 8–9. Also, very valuable and useful comments on this matter made by Broughton 1951, op. cit. (n. 57), 236 ff. 78 The development of policies, first Attalid and later Bithynian, extended from 216–183 BC. For details, Chr. Habicht,”Uber die Kriege zwischen Pergamon und Bithynien”, Hermes 84 (1956), 90–110.

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the primitive nucleus and its territory, in charge of the administration of all affairs – religious, economic and administrative – and the receivers of royal dedications.79 The report clearly specifies that there was a distribution of sacred land, divided subsequently into kleroi or lots to be distributed among a group of unidentified beneficiaries.80 However, in Hadrian’s times the borders of these lots were already undistinguishable, and this was the reason which caused the Roman administration to intervene. The priests themselves carried out this partition and were the depositaries of the donation. Although the reason for this intervention was not specifically stated, to judge from the data offered by the study, worries regarding the distribution of taxes could have affected the distribution. Thus, the priests awarded the lots to the peasants, doubtless including the laoi mentioned above, who already worked the lands; in exchange for the lots they were obliged to hand over the resulting tax for working the land to the temple. The documentation from the temple of Apollo at Olymos, a Carian community integrated into the city of Milasa, offers parallels which help understand what happened in Aezanoi: although not all aspects were the same, it is clear that what mattered in Olymos was misthosis, that is to say, the rent was paid by the peasants to the god who owned the land81, and this income was what allowed the expenses of the cult to be met. In any case, it is important to stress that, given the characteristics of the primitive nucleus of Aezanoi, the presence and importance of the cult defines its own birth as much as it does its consolidation and evolution, orchestrated and directed in all probability from the temple itself. From this perspective, offering the land to the divinity makes perfect sense and is totally in tune with Anatolian religious traditions. However it is not clear when the aforementioned distribution into kleroi took place, but in all probability this would have coincided with the birth of the city, of the civitas, although we do not know how or on what basis it was formed. Our principal information is that the city was created from a primitive settlement82: through a process which lasted an indeterminate length of time and the administrative institutions characteristic of the polis would have been introduced gradually until they 79

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The possession of land at that time is probable, given the importance of this type of property to ensure the survival of any cult and the influence of its priesthood in and around Asia Minor. Nevertheless, there are no accounts. Boffo 1985, op. cit. (n. 1), 109 ff. makes no definite pronouncements on this matter; Dignas 2002, op. cit. (n.4), 89 ff. is in favour of considering the existence of a rich and powerful centre even at that time; in addition, in her opinion, the land would have been dedicated both to Zeus and to the Meter Steuene. Opinions of scholars also vary on this point: soldiers, inhabitants of the place, former laoi? For Levick-Mitchell 1988, op. cit. (n. 77), 41 this was carried out by kings in order to establish a military settlement there, distributing it to the colonists, although the arguments used do not seem sufficiently convincing. In addition, the epigraphs do not mention any such aims. IMylasa II, 820–2; 853; IMylasa I, 216. A rather popular opinion expressed at the end of the third century and early second century BC is the basis for the mention of the term civitas in one of the epigraphs that mentions the kings (Attalus I of Pergamon and Prusias I of Bithynia). Debord does not think this possible at that time and supports his theory with the absence of accounts of its existence until the late first century BC. Strabo 12.8.12 mentions Aezanoi as one of the six cities of Phrygia.

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were all finally incorporated. If we accept the text of the inscription literally, the only possible conclusion is that the polis already existed at the end of the third century or start of the second century BC. The problem however, lies in the fact that the accounts of it found in Strabo and on coins83, do not appear before the late first century BC.84 It seems clear that the establishment of the polis / civitas introduced important changes in the relationships between the inhabitants of the territory and the priests which would eventually give rise to problems which the city’s authorities required the help of the Roman governor to solve. Another consequence of this was the modification in the composition of the population, provoked by the settlement of foreign groups. Equally, conflicts were to arise between the traditional authority exerted from the temple and the governmental institutions of the city. It is hard to know, for instance, whether the legal status of the land from these lots was civil or sacred. The epigraphs certainly lead us to think that it continued to be sacred, or at least the rescript from Hadrian reveals these claims were in existence. However, the city was in charge of collecting profits from the taxes and their administration. The letter from the proconsul of Asia Avidius Quietus to the authorities of the city provides an account of the difficulties they encountered: the governor’s decision forced the payment of taxes, telos, to the hierotamias of the chora, that is to say, the treasurer in charge of the temple’s financial affairs, thus awarding recognition to the rights of the city. And so, in the case of Aezanoi, Roman intervention did not break with previous practice, as it does not appear to have introduced any new aspects or initiatives of its own but limited itself to clarifying the fate of taxes from the working of the kleroi of the former properties of the temple of Zeus, thus proving its dependence on the city. No modifications were therefore necessary, as they followed the guidelines they themselves had set for other major temples elsewhere, placing them in the orbit of the cities so that these acted as obstacles to their independence and confined their secular, as well as economic and social, power to their strictly religious function, as seen above.85 Another widely discussed matter is the connection between the temples and their properties and the birth of the great imperial property, according to which one of the methods that made the formation of the great imperial territories possible – besides the usual ones, like confiscations from political enemies, inheritances from former kings or individuals, etc. – would have been the confiscation by the emperors of sacred property. Aside from any doubts cast by this problem86, the truth is 83

The earliest use of coins in Aezanoi takes place at the time of Augustus: Magie 1950, op. cit. (n. 13), 999–1000, n. 36. 84 The text: Imperator Caesar Traianus Hadrianus … fines Iovi genitori et civitati Aezanitarum datos ab Attalo et Prusia regibus restituebam cura agente … 85 The other secularizing solution, also witnessed, was the transformation of the major priesthoods into veritable client principates of Rome. 86 See Broughton 1938, op. cit. (n. 57), 648 ff., where he provides the literary and epigraphic accounts of these in the provinces of Asia Minor; in general M. Sartre, El Oriente romano (Madrid 1994), 299 ff. And the much more detailed in-depth analysis of the question by Mitchell 1993, op. cit. (n. 3), 149 ff.

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that it is a phenomenon which was not present before late Flavian times and therefore must have appeared after the period of settlement of Roman power in Asia Minor under study here. And so, viewing these cases as a whole, although they by no means constitute all of the accounts, Roman actions towards the temples cannot in themselves be considered innovative, for the most part representing the culmination of the process which had already begun in times of Alexander and his successors. The novelty lies in their field of application, which was more widespread than that of the Hellenistic kings: Hellenization brought about the disappearance of forms of organization and power characteristic of a society and way of life rooted in different cultural traditions and which did not fit in with the dominant Greek culture. The Hellenistic period was fraught with political and military complications which impeded the completion of this process in the regions included in the ancient Alexandrian empire. The Romans then continued this enormous task, indubitably linked to urbanizing policies which allowed them to spread cities throughout the entire Empire87, although it is true that the significance of the term had changed from the time of the Hellenistic kings, the essential characteristic of the ancient polis, its autonomy, had gradually been erased. In any case, the success of these policies is faithfully attested in the writings from the first centuries of the Empire, where the splendour of the cities is reflected. It is this framework which explains the fact that it was under Roman power that the secularization, that is, the loss of independence and political power of the major influential Asian temples peaked, so that their original structure, rooted in a traditional type of Anatolian society, was abolished and they were reduced to their strict function of religious cult. However, this does not mean that the Romans persecuted the temples or their priests. The secularization measures are found only in the cases where they posed a threat or danger to the confirmation of Rome’s power in the areas where they were found. In any case, I would like to stress once again that this was a process which had begun in the previous period and was completed under the aegis of Rome. As long as there was no such threat, the Roman attitude remained relatively amicable, as attested by a series of examples which mention Roman intervention for the restitution of land or revenue wrongfully taken from the temples.88 This statement, however, calls for further elucidation given the major differences observed between the different types of temples and the influence their regional location had on them. Although Roman interest in major eastern temples is obvious, the same is not true of those located in rural areas, closely tied to the kome, the village. Generally, references to temples situated in these areas are sparse. As is logical, inscriptions appear later on, and are not found until virtually midway through the imperial era, which means our information comes largely from Strabo, indubitably our main source in this field. Nevertheless, there are exceptions. 87 For Asia Minor specifically, see the view offered by Magie 1950, op. cit. (n. 13), chaps. 20–21 on the work of the different dynasties; equally the analysis by Mitchell 1993, 86–98 of the foundations by different emperors. 88 The cases known were compiled by P. Debord, Aspects sociaux et économiques de la vie religieuse dans l’Anatolie gréco-romaine (Leiden 1982), 151 ff. with the relevant notes.

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We find typical examples in the Lydian-Phrygian region, which is where we encounter the group known as confession and atonement inscriptions, extremely informative not only from the strictly religious perspective, but from that of the socio-religious behaviour of its inhabitants, which is considered both within the strict limits of the village and in reference to the higher civil authority they belonged to.89 These village sanctuaries, although generally quite small, played host to cults of ancestral divinities, deeply rooted in the area. Their main characteristic is the role of the god himself as absolute lord over the whole social ensemble of the village, whose particular actions are determined by their autonomy. The absence of any reference to provincial Roman authorities is striking. The timeline of these epigraphs begins in the first century AD, flourishing during the second and ending in the middle of the third century. Their virtual disappearance at this point suggests that even then the effects of the transformation were evident, and that, consequently, traditional ties weakened and finally disappeared.90 Either way, it is not possible to think of this as a uniform panorama: in this sense the chronology of the documents is crucial, as we are dealing with communities immersed in a profound and long-lasting transformation, accelerated by the administrative, military and political action of first the Greeks and then the Romans. So, in secluded places or locations outside dominant political interests, the preceding structures, inherited from earlier historical periods, would remain intact, while other less isolated spots would progressively disappear or lose their distinguishing political traits in order to adapt to the new socio-political reality, following prolonged contact with different, more socially and economically advanced political structures. And so, as Chaniotis91 has already shown, these inscriptions constitute 89

This group of epigraphs has been a focus of attention for decades. The epigraphs were mostly published in vol. V of the Tituli Asiae Minoris. Nevertheless the most complete and recent publication is that of G. Petzl, Die Beichtinscriften Westkleinasiens (Bonn 1994): as well as the translation of each epigraph, the author provides an excellent commentary. From the studies devoted to this epigraphic group I will only quote those I believe to be most important, such as the monograph by F. Steinleitner, Die Beicht im Zusammenhange mit der sakralen Rechtspflege in der Antike (Munich 1913), which, despite its age, continues to be useful for the material it contains and the comments by the author; F. Bömer, Untersuchungen über die Religion der Sklaven in Griechenland und Rom, vols. I–IV (Stuttgart 1990), 57–63; E. Lane, Corpus Monumentorum Religionis Dei Menis, I–III, (Leiden 1976), 17 ff., particularly commentaries in vol. III (Interpretations and Testimonia); P. Herrmann, Ergebnisse einer Reise in Nordostlydien, Denkschriften der österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften (Wien 1962); H. W. Pleket “Religious history as the history of mentality”, in H. S. Versnel (ed.), Faith, hope and worship. Aspects of religious mentality in the ancient world (Leiden 1981), 152–192; Mitchell 1993 op. cit. (n. 3),especially chap. II, 11: “Rural Anatolia”, 170–198; M.ª P. de Hoz, Die lydischen Kulte im Lichte der griechischen Inschriften (Bonn 1999); R. Gordon, “Social control in the Lydian and Phrygian ‘confession’ texts”, in L. Hernández Guerra – J. Alvar Ezquerra (eds.), Jerarquías religiosas y control social en el mundo antiguo, Actas del XXVII Congreso Internacional GIREA-ARYS IX (Valladolid 2004), 193–205. 90 Cf. Debord 1982, op. cit. (n. 88), 168. 91 Cf. A. Chaniotis, “Tempeljustiz im kaiserzeitlichen Kleinasien: Rechtliche Aspekte der Sühneninschriften Lydiens und Phrygiens” in G. Thuer–J. Velisaropoulos (eds.), Vorträge zur griechischen und hellenistischen Rechtsgeschichte (Korfu, 1.–5. September 1995) (Köln 1997). See also the analysis of this subject by M. Ricl, “The appeal to divine justice in the Lydian

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one of the few sources which enable us to verify the tensions that existed not only between ancient structures and the new order imposed by Hellenism, but also with that imposed by the Roman Empire, in the era from which these texts date. The confessions/atonements constitute, in any case, a valuable account of the moral authority which the temples still maintained in the second and third centuries: secluded as they were from major centres or busier communication networks, the Romans do not appear to have interfered in their life or traditions. What is more, there is not a single mention of the presence of secular authorities taking action on any of the crimes mentioned, most of which were petty and could therefore be judged by ordinary laws: this means that priests were considered the competent authority.92 Nevertheless, we must admit that this may be due to a lack of information on the extent to which individuals resorted to the competent authorities or not; nor is it possible to ignore the possibility that appearing before a religious court did not imply rejecting a secular one but that both could coincide in a case. We simply lack information on this point.93 And so, in conclusion, it can be established that Roman actions in relation to the major temples of Asia Minor varied in accordance with the period and particularly with the places and regions where they took place. The secularization of some of the better-known and more powerful ones was politically inevitable: circumstances, that is to say, the stage of Roman military conquests conditioned the transformation of the major temples, which particularly affected the power held by the priests: it was necessary either to limit it or suppress it once and for all. In any case, it is impossible to ignore, as mentioned above, that it was in Roman times that the secularizing process which had gradually developed in the previous period was completed. This process had been encouraged both by the direct action of Hellenistic kings and the expansion of urbanization and other modifications and changes inherent to the progress of Hellenization in the inner regions of Anatolia. This is why we must not always overestimate Roman action in relation to the major temples, which can generally be classed as continuing that of the previous monarchs, except in the particular case of colonization: it is simply then that their evolution, as well as the steps already taken, became apparent, and the new lords had to deal with this, awarding it due recognition on the new political map designed by Rome. Besides, it must be highlighted that a major part of Roman actions, once they had firmly established their military supremacy, were not carried out independently, but at the request of the interested parties – civic authorities, the communities themselves, some specific groups within these who were in conflict with others, etc. Such actions took different forms. These range from a total lack of acconfession-inscriptions” in St. Colvin (ed.), The Greco-Roman East. Politics, culture, society (Cambridge 2004), 67–76. 92 A complex consideration of these problems relating to sacred justice and their significance in the villages over which sacred authority was held is found in A. Lozano, “El falso juramento y sus consecuencias sociorreligiosas”, Arys 7 (2006–2008), 83–100. 93 A. Chaniotis, “Under the watchful eyes of the gods: divine justice in Hellenistic and Roman Asia Minor”, in Colvin 2004, op. cit. (n. 91), 1–43, 40: compares this situation with the existing relationship between secular medicine and the cures made in the sanctuaries.

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tion in the case of the village temples of rural areas to the restitution of goods which had been illegally appropriated by third parties, but what should be emphasized in general is the respect shown towards the religio of the subjects of the Empire and the moderation displayed towards temples and priests, strong propaganda elements given that the priests still wielded great influence over the population.

DURA-EUROPOS UNDER ROMAN RULE* Ted Kaizer Some of the anecdotes about Trajan’s Near Eastern campaigns, as they are recorded in the epitome of book 68 of Cassius Dio’s Roman History, are very well known. Abgar, king of Edessa, ‘induced partly by the persuasions of his son Arbandes, who was handsome and in the pride of youth and therefore in favour with Trajan’, went to meet the emperor during his travels and then ‘entertained him at a banquet; and during the dinner he brought in his boy to perform some barbaric dance or other’. In the north-Mesopotamian Jazirah steppe, Trajan failed to capture Hatra, a city that found itself under the protection of the Sun god and which was said to be ‘neither large nor prosperous, and the surrounding country is mostly desert and has neither water (save a small amount and that poor in quality) nor timber nor fodder.’ And perhaps most famous is the scene of a day-dreaming emperor at the Persian Gulf: ‘Then he came to the ocean itself, and when he had learned its nature and had seen a ship sailing to India, he said: “I should certainly have crossed over to the Indi, too, if I were still young.” For he began to think about the Indi and was curious about their affairs, and he counted Alexander a lucky man.’1 The brief interlude of Roman control over Dura-Europos around this time, not covered in any literary source, seems to have been only a minor episode in the campaign. It certainly concerned a ‘brief interlude’ as far as Dura-Europos was concerned, since this small town on the west bank of the Euphrates river was soon to return to form part of the Parthian world once again, as it had done since the late second century BC. But in the context of Rome’s “push down the valley of the Euphrates”,2 at least 60 km south of its conflation with the Chabur, archaeological remains and documentary evidence from Dura-Europos replace literary sources as a reflection of Rome’s rule over what *

1 2

I am very grateful to Elena Muñiz Grijalvo for inviting me to the conference on “Ruling through Greek eyes”, and to both her and Fernando Lozano Gómez for the wonderful hospitality in Sevilla. Abbreviations used: PAT D. R. Hillers and E. Cussini, Palmyrene Aramaic texts (Baltimore – London 1996) P.Dura C. B. Welles, R. Fink and J. Gilliam, The parchments and papyri. The Excavations at Dura-Europos, Final report V.1 (New Haven 1959) P.Euphr. D. Feissel and J. Gascou, “Documents d’archives romains inédits du Moyen Euphrate (IIIe s. après J.-C.)”, Journal des Savants (1995), 65–119; (1997), 3–57 (with J. Teixidor); (2000), 157–208 Rep. I, II, etc. M. Rostovtzeff e. a. (eds.), The excavations at Dura-Europos, Conducted by Yale University and the French Academy of Inscriptions and Letters. Preliminary reports I–IX (New Haven 1929–1952) Dio 68.21.2–3; 68.31.1–2; and 68.29.1 respectively (translation LCL). F. A. Lepper, Trajan’s Parthian War (London 1948), 103.

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was – at that time – the most remote section of the Greek half of its empire. Nearly two km northwest of the town, a detachment of the Legio III Cyrenaica built an arch in honour of its emperor, an event which must have pre-dated February 116, since Trajan is not yet styled ‘Parthicus’ on the accompanying inscription.3 This probably means that these troops had spent the winter of 115/116 at the site, or in any case long enough to plan the victory monument and to erect it. Dura-Europos reverted to Parthian control either in the context of Hadrian’s evacuation of Trajan’s newly acquired territories on his accession in August 117, or at an earlier stage, possibly even with the blessing of Trajan himself.4 In any case, an inscription from the year 428 of the Seleucid era (which ran from October 116 to September 117) records how a certain Alexander, son of Epinicus, restored an otherwise undefined temple, following pillaging by Roman soldiers. He specifies how he had added five cubits to the front of the structure, and then states: ‘the original doors were taken away by the Romans, and after their departure from the city I made anew other doors for the same naos at my own expense, and outer doors also’ (τὰ δὲ θυρώματα ἀρχαῖα λημφθέντα ὑπὸ τῶν Ῥωμαίων, μετὰ δὲ τὴν αὐτῶν ἔνθεν ἀποχώρησιν ἐγ δευτέρου ἐποιησάμην ἐπ’ ἐμαυτοῦ ἄλλα θυρώ[μα]τα τῷ αὐτῷ ναῷ καὶ ἐξωτέρας).5 Partly this may of course have been real piety, but it will also have been related to the fact that it was his father, Epinicus, who had been responsible for the sanctuary in the first instance, as is known both from this and from an earlier inscription.6 In any case, this inscription which was set up in the aftermath of the Roman departure from the site remains the most explicit value judgement by the locals on the effects of Roman presence at Dura-Europos. Within fifty years, by AD 165, the Romans were back at Dura-Europos, and this time for good, or at least for as long as the town continued to exist. It was captured by the neo-Persians around 2567 and subsequently abandoned, as is illustrated by two loose remarks in Ammianus Marcellinus (23.5.8 and 24.1.5). The main focus of this paper will therefore be on the final century of the town’s history. Indeed, much of the best evidence for Dura-Europos dates from this period between AD 165 and 256, even if none of it is quite as outspoken as the inscription from Alexander son of Epinicus quoted above. Within Dura’s Roman period it is especially the years between AD 208 and 217 that are covered by datable inscriptions, which is at least partly because of a major surge in construction activities on the part of the military. In contrast, there are basically no sources to attest actual changes made in the way Dura-Europos was run for the first forty years of Roman control over the 3 4

5 6 7

See Rep. IV, 3–4, and for the inscription ibid., 56–65, no167, and Rep. VI, 480–482. F. Millar, The Roman Near East, 31 BC – AD 337 (Cambridge, Mass. – London 1993), 102: “The evacuation need have no connection with Hadrian’s abandonment of the provinces of Mesopotamia and Armenia.” See the references to the debate in M. Rostovtzeff, Dura-Europos and its art (Oxford 1938), 139–140, n.12, and the reaction by Lepper 1948, op. cit. (n. 2), 148–150. Rep. VII–VIII, 129–130, no 868. For the building inscription of Alexander’s father Epinicus, see Rep. VII–VIII, 128–129, no 867. One of the inscriptions was found at the mithraeum, the other one nearby. For discussion, see S. James, “Dura-Europos and the chronology of Syria in the 250s AD”, Chiron 15 (1985), 111–124.

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town, despite the presence of regular auxiliary units at least since the reign of Commodus. For example, the key position within the town, that of stratègos kai epistatès tès poleôs, which is first attested in the Parthian period, continues to exist until the late second century AD – with one of the latest attestations a Latin transcription, str(ategus) Dur(ae).8 Founded as the Macedonian colony Europos in the early Hellenistic period, the town had maintained its Greek public appearance throughout the centuries in which it was officially part of the Parthian realm, i. e. from the late second century BC until AD 165. As Fergus Millar has emphasised on more than one occasion, in all those years “Dura remained in a real sense a Greek city.”9 It is only in a series of parchments, typically written in Greek, and dating between AD 80 and 160, that the dating formula reveals that Dura-Europos was a ‘Parthian’ town as far as the political context is concerned: ‘as the King of Kings reckons’ (ὡς ὁ βασιλεὺς βασιλέων ἄγει) is set in contrast to the Seleucid era, which is explicitly called the ‘former’ era in those documents (ὡς δὲ πρότερον, or in later parchments κατὰ δὲ τὸν πρότερον ἀριθμὸν).10 With Rome’s renewed and final arrival at the Euphrates fortress in AD 165, the general dominance – as known from the Parthian period – of Greek in public inscriptions remains unchanged. ‘Palmyrenean’, the Aramaic dialect from nearby Palmyra, continues to be the only other widely used public language in the Roman period.11 Latin, now entering the picture, is generally believed to have played a role almost solely within the military sphere, and modern understanding of the limited extent to which Latin was used in the town’s daily life depends largely on the common interpretation of the famous Feriale Duranum. Written in Latin and dated to the reign of Alexander Severus, this unique document lists a series of festivals and sacrifices to be observed over the year. The gods and ritual occasions mentioned are all ‘hard-core’ Roman: there is no reflection of the local religious life of Dura-Europos, nor of any other indigenous cults, nor of mystery cults. The Feriale Duranum is traditionally interpreted, since its discovery in 1932, as a Roman military calendar.12 However, a provocative and intriguing interpretation which was recently put forward by Barbara Reeves would throw a different light on the matter.13 She 8

9

10 11 12 13

The earliest attestation of the office is possibly 33/2 BC, certainly AD 51/2. See the discussion with list of relevant inscriptions in R. N. Frye, J. F. Gilliam, H. Ingholt and C. B. Welles, “Inscriptions from Dura-Europos”, Yale Classical Studies 14 (1955), 123–213, at 140–142, with Millar 1993, op. cit. (n. 4), 447. F. Millar, “Dura-Europos under Parthian rule” in J. Wiesehöfer (ed.), Das Partherreich und seine Zeugnisse (Stuttgart 1998), 478 = id., H. M. Cotton and G. M. Rogers (eds), The Greek World, the Jews, & the East. Rome, the Greek World, and the East 3 (Chapel Hill 2006), 415. Millar 1993, op. cit. (n. 4), 445–452. P.Dura 18–20, 22 and 24. For an overview of these issues, see now T. Kaizer, “Language and religion in Dura-Europos” in H. M. Cotton-R. G. Hoyland-J. J. Price-D. J. Wasserstein (eds.), From Hellenism to Islam: Cultural and linguistic change in the Roman Near East (Cambridge-New York 2009), 235–253. P.Dura 54. Cf. R.O. Fink-A. S. Hoey-W. F. Snyder, “The Feriale Duranum”, Yale Classical Studies 7 (1940), 1–221. M. B. Reeves, The “Feriale Duranum”, Roman military religion, and Dura-Europos: a reassessment (Ph.D. Buffalo NY 2004).

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argued that all the extant entries in the calendar could have been observed by Roman civilians in general, and that the only entry which was clearly aimed at soldiers as such is virtually completely restored. She therefore postulated that the Feriale Duranum concerns not a military but a civic calendar, which had supposedly been awarded by Rome to Dura-Europos, alongside its new colonial status, at some point in the third century, in an attempt to foster loyalty in what was considered a crucial town with the threat of a Sasanian advance in mind. Needless to say, the role of Latin in Durene society as a whole would of course receive a completely new dimension if Reeves’ interpretation is accepted. The very features that make Dura-Europos into what is potentially the best source for daily life in a provincial small town of the Roman periphery simultaneously enrich and complicate the study of Roman rule as viewed through the eyes of the ruled. The ‘Greekness’ of the town according to its public documents notwithstanding, the combined discoveries of inscriptions and graffiti have revealed at least eight other ancient languages – besides the Classical languages, these are the Aramaic dialects Palmyrenean, Hatrean and Syriac, Hebrew, Parthian and Middle-Persian, and the North-Arabian language known as Safaitic. Durene sculptures and frescoes uniquely combine elements of Classical and Oriental art. Commonly labelled with the modern misnomer ‘Parthian art’ – on the basis of resemblances in style with sculptures from other places that once formed part of the Parthian sphere of influence, such as Palmyra, Hatra and Edessa – they were characterised by a frontality which cannot be securely linked with cultural developments in the heartland of Parthia, but whose appearance in the material evidence seems to coincide instead with Rome’s arrival in the Near Eastern lands.14 Dura-Europos has also revealed the most important papyrological dossier of a military unit in the Roman world, recording the activities of auxiliary troops that consisted to a large degree of soldiers from nearby Palmyra, and arguably hinting at substantive interaction between these soldiers and the local population.15 Various documents relate to aspects of the local economy, but possibly also to involvement in more exotic long-distance trade.16 Last but not least, the more than a dozen pagan sanctuaries, which along14

15

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H. J. W. Drijvers, “The Syrian cult relief”, Visible Religion 7 (1990) 69–82. On the specific role of reliefs in Dura’s shrines, see S. B. Downey, “Cult reliefs at Dura-Europos: problems of interpretation and placement”, Damaszener Mitteilungen 10 (1998), 201–210, and now also ead., “The role of sculpture in worship at the temples of Dura-Europos” in Y. Z. Eliav-E. A. Friedland-S. Herbert (eds.), The sculptural environment of the Roman Near East. Reflections on culture, ideology, and power (Leuven-Dudley, Mass. 2008), 413–435. For different views on the degree of interaction between the military and the civilian part of the population of Dura and elsewhere in the Roman Near East, see N. Pollard, “The Roman army as “total institution” in the Near East? Dura-Europos as a case study” in D. L. Kennedy (ed.), The Roman army in the East. JRA Suppl.18 (Ann Arbor 1996), 211–226; id., Soldiers, cities and civilians in Roman Syria (Ann Arbor, 2000); and O. Stoll, Zwischen Integration und Abgrenzung: die Religion des Römischen Heeres im Nahen Osten (St. Katharinen 2001). L. Dirven, “The nature of the trade between Palmyra and Dura-Europos”, ARAM 8 (1996), 39–54; ead., The Palmyrenes of Dura-Europos. A study of religious interaction in Roman Syria (Leiden-Boston-Cologne 1999), 6–8, 15–17 and 29–40; K. Ruffing, “Die Geschäfte des Aurelios Nebuchelos”, Laverna 11 (2000), 71–105; id., “Preise und Wertangaben aus Dura Europos

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side the famous synagogue and the earliest Christian house church occupy positions in the rigorously grid-iron city plan, are mostly accommodating non-Classical deities. The linguistic pattern of the public life of Dura-Europos, heralding its Greekness, is certainly an important factor, but not the only one. Many scholars have therefore chosen to emphasise the town’s cosmopolitan character instead, and Maurice Sartre has recently described it as “a kaleidoscope of languages, cults, and costumes.”17 It will thus be inevitable that a discussion of Dura-Europos will not be limited to ‘ruling through Greek eyes’ in any narrow sense of the word. To do justice to the multifarious cultural influences present in the small-town, it ought to be acknowledged that its uniquely rich evidence has long since played a major role in the debate on Roman rule in the eastern frontier zone. Academic disagreement about the actual degree of ‘Greekness’ of Dura-Europos is certainly nothing new, and the early stages of this ongoing discussion can now be followed in brilliant detail thanks to the publication of the one hundred and sixty-four letters that remain of the evocative correspondence between the two great friends and common explorers of Dura’s culture and history, the Belgian Privatgelehrter Franz Cumont and the Russian Yale Professor Michael Rostovtzeff.18 For example, in a letter dated to 5 March 1932, Cumont told Rostovtzeff: “j’inclinerais à accorder à l’hellénisme une part un peu plus large que celle dont vous le laissez maître. Vous le réduisez trop, le pauvre, à la portion congrue.” A year later, in print, Rostovtzeff gave expression to his doubts: “Doura de l’époque parthe et romaine n’est pas une ville grecque. Mais en même temps elle n’est pas non plus purement orientale.”19 Subtle distinctions can also be noticed in their respective interpretations of the patterns of worship in the town: whereas Cumont understood the divine world of Dura-Europos as a collection of polis cults, Rostovtzeff viewed the religious evidence as belonging to that of a ‘caravan city’, stating that “Greek religion had been for a time predominant at Dura. But [---] in the Parthian and Roman periods it was a mere survival, no longer a living religion with worshippers devoted to it.”20 Perhaps it is simply a matter of size. Dura-Europos was nothing compared to the major cities of the region. It was just a small town, “une petite ville.”21 The ideal type of the Greek city in the Roman period, or rather the stereotypical ‘Graeco-Roman’ city, can be characterised by its civic institutions (the traditional organs and offices of a polis, but also in a number of cases colonial magistracies), by its architectural presentation, by the production of civic coinage (the so-called ‘Roman provincial coinage’), by a universally recognised programme of public entertainment, und Umgebung”, Laverna 13 (2002), 24–44; and id., “Dura Europos: a city on the Euphrates and her economic importance in the Roman era”, Topoi Suppl. 8 (2007), 399–411. 17 M. Sartre, The Middle East under Rome (Cambridge, Mass.-London 2005), 194. 18 G. Bongard-Levine-C. Bonnet-Y. Litvinenko-A. Marcone, Mongolus Syrio salutem optimam dat: la correspondance entre Mikhaïl Rostovtzeff et Franz Cumont. Mémoires de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres (Paris 2007). 19 M. Rostovtzeff, “L’hellénisme en Mésopotamie”, Scientia 53 (1933), 1–15, at p.15. 20 Rostovtzeff 1938, op. cit. (n. 4), 61. 21 E. Will, “La population de Doura-Europos: une évaluation”, Syria 65 (1988), 321 = id. in P. Leriche e. a., Doura-Europos Études (II) (Paris 1988), 63.

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and last but not least by conformation to a customary framework of religious culture, including the connection between public cults and the territorial division of the polis and the symbolic language of euergetism used in public inscriptions honouring benefactors.22 It is clear that, on most accounts, Dura-Europos did not fit the bill. A bouleuterion was indeed located within the sanctuary of Artemis,23 but the remaining elements of a Greek civic constitution seem to be overshadowed – at least from the early third century onwards – by the dominant position in society of senior military officials. Whether that means that local magistrates were actually deposed by the Roman authorities is of course another matter,24 but it has been argued convincingly that legati, praepositi and tribuni will have undertaken certain “executive functions”25. More problematic is the widespread assumption, following the classic study by Rostovtzeff’s pupil Frank Gilliam, that the enigmatic dux ripae, the ‘commander of the river bank’, carried out judicial duties as the supposedly overall military commander of the Middle Euphrates region in what counted as the region’s central stronghold.26 According to Gilliam, the position of the dux ripae at Dura-Europos was different from that of other duces in the Roman world, since it was the only commander post which was regularly held, with jurisdiction over an established area and command over a fixed number of military units. However, Peter Edwell has recently revisited the evidence about the perceived role of the dux ripae in Durene society, and has convincingly shown “how the initial speculation regarding the Dux Ripae was used as proof for the uniqueness of his office”27. The previous argument rested on one dipinto from a building that has – on typically dubious grounds – come to be known amongst scholars as the ‘palace of the dux ripae’28. The dipinto itself, which is in Greek, is actually a memento inscription for 22 F. Millar, “The Greek city in the Roman period”, in M. H. Hansen (ed.), The Ancient Greek City-State (Copenhagen 1993), 232–260 = Cotton-Rogers 2006, op. cit. (n. 9), 106–135. 23 See P. Leriche-E. el Ajj, “Une nouvelle inscription dans la salle à gradins du temple d’Artémis à Doura-Europos”, Comptes rendus de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres (1999), 1309–1346. 24 As was put forward by P. Arnaud, “Doura-Europos, microcosme grec ou rouage de l’administration arsacide?”, Syria 63 (1986) = id. in P. Leriche e. a., Doura-Europos Études (I) (Paris 1986), 135–155, at 146, n.51: “… comme si la romanisation des institutions de la cité avait simultanément causé la disparition du titre et des fonctions de stratège et épistate de la ville, et la création de la Boulè de la cité.” Cf. K. Butcher, Roman Syria and the Near East (London 2003), 402: “There is no clear sign at Dura or other cities of military interference in civic government, but there is not much indication either way.” 25 Pollard 1996, op. cit. (n. 15), 87. P.Dura 125–127 have Laronius Secundianus as a tribune of the cohors XX Palmyrenorum conducting civil legal affairs. P.Euphr. 3–4 show the praepositus praetenturae Julius Proculus in a similar judiciary role. 26 J. F. Gilliam, “The Dux Ripae at Dura”, Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association 72 (1941), 157–175. 27 P. M. Edwell, Between Rome and Persia: the Middle Euphrates, Mesopotamia and Palmyra under Roman control (London-New York 2008), 128–135, with the quotation at 131. But compare also T. Gnoli, “From praepositus pretenturae to dux ripae. The Roman “grand strategy” on the Middle Euphrates (2nd – 3rd cent. AD)” in A. Lewin-P. Pellegrini (eds.), The Late Roman army in the Near East from Diocletian to the Arab Conquest. BAR International Series 1717 (Oxford 2007), 49–55. In general, see also Millar 1993, op.cit. (n. 4), 131–133. 28 Rep. IX.3, pp.1–26. Cf. Pollard 1996, op.cit. (n. 15), 49, n. 68, who also states that what has

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a tragôidos who is identified as the threptos of a man called Domitius Pompeianus, ‘pious and just’ δούξ τῆς ῥείπης, transliterating the non-attested Latin form dux ripae.29 Other duces, but without further specification, are attested in Latin documents from the above-mentioned archive of the Cohors XX Palmyrenorum: Licinius Pacatianus was tunc dux in August 245, whereas Ulpius Tertius is described in identical fashion in 248.30 As regards other characteristics of the stereotypical ‘Greek city’, Dura-Europos did not issue its own coins,31 and there is no evidence for a Classical-styled theatre where plays could be performed for the citizens, or for athletic contests to have been held along the Euphrates. But perhaps most visibly diverting from the ideal model is the town’s religious architecture, as the various shrines follow indigenous plans with distinctively local characteristics.32 Typically a sanctuary consisted of a courtyard with a relatively small central place of worship surrounded by a number of minor rooms, which are often interpreted by scholars as ‘subsidiary shrines’ or, especially when they are aligned with benches, as ‘banqueting rooms’.33 The only exception to this local scheme is a small structure known (after a damaged inscription) as the ‘temple of the Roman archers’, which was constructed as a single room fronted by a distyle in antis porch, and which scholars naturally (but without any supportive evidence) believe was dedicated to a typically Roman god.34 With the exception of this military sanctuary (and also of the temples that are depicted on the frescoes from the synagogue), Dura-Europos had no Classical or otherwise monumental buildings, and as such stood in sharp contrast to the major Near Eastern cult centres such as Palmyra. However, as I have argued in a separate article,35 the fact that the sanctuaries at Dura-Europos were not built in a Classical style does not in itself exclude the functioning of at least some of these buildings as providing a home for the town’s socalled civic (or even polis-) cults. The well-known reference to four peculiar priesthoods in a deed of sale from AD 180 (thus fifteen year after Dura became Roman)

29 30 31 32 33

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become a widely accepted designation “is not necessarily justified by the evidence for [the dux ripae’s] activities there.” Rep. IX.3, pp. 30–31, no945: Μνησθῇ Ἐλπιδηφόρος ὁ Βυζάντιος τραγῳδός ὁ Δομιτίου [Πο]μπηιανοῦ τοῦ ἁγνοῦ καὶ δικαίου δουκὸς τῆς ῥείπης θρεπτός μετὰ Πρόβου τοῦ ὑποκριτοῦ αὐτοῦ. Μνησθῇ ὁ ῶδε μένων καὶ ὁ ἀναγεινώσκων. P.Dura 97, lines 22 ff. Sartre 2005, op. cit. (n. 17), 263: “that city never minted coins (except for a few issues under Seleucos I and possibly one during the time of the Parthian occupation).” The major study is by S. B. Downey, Mesopotamian Religious Architecture. Alexander through the Parthians (Princeton 1988), 76–129. See now J. Buchmann, “Räumlichkeiten für Bankette und Versammlungen in ausgewählten Heiligtümern in Dura Europos” in I. Nielsen (ed.), Zwischen Kult und Gesellschaft: kosmopolitische Zentren des antiken Mittelmeerraumes als Aktionsraum von Kultvereinen und Religionsgemeinschaften. Hephaistos 24 (Augsburg 2006), 93–99. Cf. Millar 1993, op. cit. (n. 4), 446. Rep. II, pp. 16–17 and pp. 57–61. Cf. Pollard 1996, op. cit. (n. 15), 147. T. Kaizer, “Patterns of worship in Dura-Europos: a case study of religious life in the Classical Levant outside the main cult centres”, in C. Bonnet-V. Pirenne-Delforge-D. Praet (eds.), Les religions orientales dans le monde grec et romain: cent ans après Cumont (1906–2006). Bilan historique et historiographique (Brussels – Rome, 2009), 153–172.

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is very telling in this context.36 The parchment is dated in a complicated manner, first – as was common – after the consuls and the emperor, then after ‘the former reckoning’ (κατὰ δὲ τὸν πρότερον ἀριθμὸν), year 491 of the Seleucid era, ‘on the fourth day of the month Peritios (i. e. February)’, and then, finally, by reference to four eponymous priests: ‘when Lusanios son of Zenodotos son of Heliodoros was priest of Zeus, when Theodoros son of Athenodotos son of Artemidoros was priest of Apollo, when Heliodoros son of Diokleos son of Heliodoros was priest of the ancestors, and when Danumos son of Seleukos son of Danumos was priest of king Seleucus Nicator’.37 Each of the respective cults can of course be linked with the religious attitudes of the house of Seleucus: Zeus was the main god for the dynasty, under the name Zeus Olympios; Apollo was one of its patron deities; the πρόγονοι were either the mythical ancestors of a Seleucid king or – as Tony Spawforth has recently argued – of the town’s Graeco-Macedonian elite; and the priesthood of Seleucus Nicator speaks for itself. It does not come as a surprise that scholars have commonly interpreted these four eponymous priesthoods as being those of the ‘municipal gods’ of the Macedonian colony when founded in the early Hellenistic period. But since the peculiar dating formula is not attested in other documents from Dura-Europos, neither in those from the Parthian period nor in those from after 165, the question of whether it provides evidence for actual cultic continuity cannot be answered with certainty. According to Rostovtzeff, such municipal dating was “not a creation of Roman times”, but “a fossilised survival of a much earlier period” instead.38 He argued that the four cults were not to be interpreted as a proper mirror of religious life at Dura in later, Roman, times, and that the official cults of the Macedonian colony “as such existed no longer as a reality” by AD 180.39 However, these priesthoods seemed sufficiently important by that date to be filled by men with a purely Macedonian genealogy, which led Rostovtzeff to interpret the “ancient Seleucid religious traditions” in Dura-Europos under Roman rule as “a kind of romantic reaction on the part of the Macedonian colonists of Europos against the pretensions of the Parthian kings to be the legitimate successors of the Seleucids”, a revival which was presumably “shortlived”.40 Nevertheless, a divorce act from AD 254 shows that Dura-Europos – only a few years before its capture by the Sasanians, by which time it had of course long since become a Roman colonia – could officially be referred to as the κολωνεία Εὐροπαίων Σελεύκου Νεικάτορος, ‘the 36

37

38 39 40

The parchment has been much discussed since the classic paper by M. Rostovtzeff, “ΠΡΟΓΟΝΟΙ”, Journal of Hellenic Studies 55 (1935), 56–66, most recently by T. Spawforth, ““Macedonian times”: Hellenistic memories in the provinces of the Roman Near East”, in D. Konstan-S. Saïd (eds.), Greeks on Greekness. Viewing the Greek past under the Roman empire. PCPS Suppl. 29 (2006), 1–26, at 10–11. P.Dura, no25, lines 18–20 of the lower text: ἐπὶ ἱερέων Διὸς μὲν Λυσανίου τοῦ Ζηνοδότου τοῦ Ἡλιοδώρου, Ἀπόλλωνος δὲ Θεοδώρου τοῦ Ἀθηνοδότου τοῦ Ἀρτεμιδώρου, τῶν δὲ προγόνων Ἡλιοδώρου τοῦ Διοκλέους τοῦ Ἡλιοδώρου, βασιλέως δὲ Σελεύκου Νικ[ά]τορος Δανύμου τοῦ Σελεύκου τοῦ Δανύμου. Rostovtzeff 1935, op. cit. (n. 36), 57. Ibid., 58. Ibid., 58–59.

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colonia of the Europaioi of Seleucus Nicator’, a phenomenon which suggests that the revival of these tendencies was perhaps not so ‘shortlived’ after all.41 In any case, it seems very unlikely that the four men, who according to their nomenclature belonged to the upper stratum of society, would have allowed themselves to be put off with second-rate priestly offices, and from that perspective it is more likely that the respective cults did have an important place in Dura-Europos shortly after it became Roman. The fact that the eponymous priesthoods were applied to the dating formula of an official document can then be viewed not so much as a sign of archaicization, but rather – in the context of the civic spirit dominating the Roman empire around this time – as a way to highlight the town’s Greek past. Instead of a so-called re-introduction in Dura of long-forgotten Seleucid cults from the colony of Europos, I would argue that these traditional aspects of worship had been present in the town all along: having simmered underneath the civic surface throughout the Parthian period, under Roman rule they could then have been elevated once again to a more visible position. Despite the relative tolerance and the apparent lack of an active ‘religious policy’ which is generally attributed to Parthian rule, in the time that the Arsacid King of Kings nominally assumed control over Dura it would perhaps have been one step too far to date an official document after the priesthood of Seleucus Nicator in the way that the parchment from AD 180 does. But a continuity of some of the religious patterns which were first introduced by the original Macedonian colonists, from the earliest Hellenistic period through the Parthians, surely would have been no problem in less official contexts. Indeed, six years before the transition from Parthian to Roman Dura, in AD 159, Seleucus Nicator appears on a relief from the so-called temple ‘of the Gadde’. The founder of the Seleucid empire, identified as such by a Palmyrenean-Aramaic inscription (slwqws nyqṭ wr), is depicted in the act of crowning the divine figure seated in the middle of the relief, who is labelled the Gad (personified good fortune, the Aramaic equivalent of Tyche) of Dura (gd’ dy dwr’).42 According to Lucinda Dirven’s convincing iconographic analysis, this deity is to be identified as Zeus Olympios, an interpretation that fits well with the fact that it is Seleucus himself who is holding a wreath over the seated figure’s head.43 It would go to show not only that there was an awareness in the late-Parthian period of the Hellenistic origins of some of the town’s cults, but also that, already before the arrival of Roman troops, such Seleucid roots could be openly emphasised in religious contexts, in any case by inhabitants of Dura who were themselves relative outsiders from Palmyra. As is well-known, the personified Good Fortune of Dura is also depicted on the famous fresco of Julius Terentius, from the late 230s, in the so-called temple ‘of the Palmyrene gods’.44 In this case, however, the image is that of a traditional city god41 42 43 44

P.Dura, no 32. Relief: Rep. VII–VIII, pp.258–260 with pl.XXXIII; inscriptions: PAT 1094–1096. Cf. M. Rostovtzeff, “Le Gad de Doura et Seleucus Nicator” in Mélanges Syriens, offerts à monsieur René Dussaud I (Paris 1939), 281–295. Dirven 1999, op. cit. (n. 16), 111–127, esp. 117–119. For the fresco, see now T. Kaizer, “A note on the fresco of Iulius Terentius from Dura-Europos” in R. Rollinger and B. Truschnegg (eds.), Altertum und Mittelmeerraum: die antike Welt dies-

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dess with mural crown, who is identified by the accompanying inscription as Τύχη Δούρας. Again, the interpretation of the town’s tutelary deity is made by Palmyrenes, but this time they are presented as fighting under Roman flag, as the Cohors XX Palmyrenorum. It could of course be interpreted as illustrating a shift in understanding, on the part of the Palmyrene community in the town, of the religious identity of Dura-Europos as such, but it is probably more fruitful to approach the divergence between the two visual representations as an example of opposing images that should not be seen as contradictory and mutually exclusive. As we have seen above, the respective genealogies of the incumbents of the four priesthoods listed in the dating formula of the parchment from AD 180 may imply Macedonian descent. But in a recent paper on Roman Near Eastern onomastics Maurice Sartre has issued a warning against drawing conclusions about cultural identity from looking at isolated cases: it is a study of the overall picture that is needed.45 In this same spirit, Nigel Pollard has suggested, independently, that the high office holders with Graeco-Macedonian names in late-Parthian and Roman Dura were not descendents of the original settlers of the colony Europos (in contrast to what Bradford Welles had argued), but that they formed instead “a real and distinctive ethnic group that employed a myth of common descent and formulaic, recurring names as marks of cultural identity”.46 On the other hand, since there is plenty of evidence from the town showing that double naming (with both a Graeco-Macedonian name and a Semitic one) was very common, it is of course also a real possibility that those who appear in our sources only under a Classical name – as for example the four priests listed in the parchment – had in fact also a Semitic name which just happens not to be preserved by the evidence. The double naming of individuals is mirrored in the name of the town itself. If ‘Dura-Europos’ is a modern hybrid created by scholars, both halves were clearly used alongside each other in the same period: Dura (meaning ‘fortress’) as the site had been called since time immemorial – a cuneiform tablet reused in a wall of the temple of Atargatis refers to the ‘district of Dawara’47 – and Europos after the Macedonian colony founded here. In any case, in his Parthian Stations (1), the first-century author Isidorus of Charax lists the town as ‘Dura, city of Nikanor, a foundation of the Macedonians, called Europos by the Hellenes’ (Δοῦρα, Νικάνορος πόλις, κτίσμα Μακεδόνων ὑπο δὲ Ἑλλήνων Εὔρωπος καλεῖται). And when the indigenous name ‘Dura’ alongside the ethnicon Durenus came back into fashion in the early

45 46

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seits und jenseits der Levante. Festschrift für Peter W. Haider zum 60. Geburtstag. Oriens et Occidens 12 (Stuttgart 2006), 151–9, with further references. M. Sartre, “The ambiguous name: the limitations of cultural identity in Graeco-Roman Syrian onomastics”, in E. Matthews (ed.), Old and new worlds in Greek onomastics. Proceedings of the British Academy 148 (Oxford 2007), 199–232. N. Pollard, “Colonial and cultural identities in Parthian and Roman Dura-Europos”, in R. Alston – S. N. C. Lieu (eds.), Aspects of the Roman East. Papers in honour of Professor Fergus Millar FBA, vol.I (Turnhout 2007), 81–102, at 99, arguing against C. B. Welles, “The population of Roman Dura” in P. R. Coleman-Norton (ed.), Studies in Roman economic and social history in Honour of Allan Chester Johnson (Princeton 1951), 251–274. F. J. Stephens, “A cuneiform tablet from Dura-Europas”, in Revue d’Assyriologie 34 (1937), 183–190.

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third century AD, this did not happen at the cost of the Greek name, as some of the clearest attestations of Europos and the ethnicon Europaios date from this same late phase in the town’s existence. In any case, the choice of name does not seem to have followed any specific logic: when Julius Terentius and his soldiers were depicted on their fresco in the 230s alongside the town’s Tyche – nearly eighty years since the latter’s Semitic equivalent, the Gad of Dura, had appeared in the shape of Zeus Olympios on a relief – the goddess is explicitly identified as Τύχη Δούρας and not, despite the fact that the inscription is in Greek and the image follows Graeco-Roman parameters, as the Tyche of Europos. As regards personal names, the Roman period clearly saw an increase in the use of Semitic nomenclature in the inscriptions from Dura-Europos.48 Whereas traditionally this undeniable trend in our evidence has been interpreted, following Bradford Welles, as the result of an actual replacement of one large section of the population by another,49 it has now been argued, by Nigel Pollard, that the developments rather “relate to shifts in presentation of self and community, with a diminished emphasis on lineage and Graeco-Macedonian origins on the part of some”.50 It is clear that the multi-varied evidence from Dura-Europos, of which only a small percentage was used in this paper, cannot be forced into a single, all-explanatory framework of interpretation. If the inhabitants of this small town on the Euphrates were becoming Roman while staying Greek, to borrow the title of a wellknown article by Greg Woolf,51 they were also nurturing aspects of a local identity which from a Roman perspective may simplistically be viewed as ‘Oriental’, but which rather ought to be understood as a conglomerate of cultural elements (some truly indigenous, others introduced more recently) which continued to evolve throughout the Roman period, and whose authenticity very much depended on the eye of the beholder.

48

49 50

51

For some very useful tables and general discussion, see M. Sommer, “A map of meaning. Approaching cultural identities at the Middle Euphrates (1st to 3rd centuries AD)”, in Egitto e Vicino Oriente 27 (2004), 153–83; id., “Dura-Europos ed il medio Eufrate. Osservazioni su diaspora e costruzioni di identità culturali nella Mesopotamia parto-romana”, in Mediterraneo Antico 7 (2004), 837–57; id., Roms orientalische Steppengrenze: Palmyra – Edessa – Dura-Europos – Hatra. Eine Kulturgeschichte von Pompeius bis Diocletian. Oriens et Occidens 9 (Stuttgart 2005), esp. 320–329. Welles 1951, op. cit. (n. 46), esp. 262, 267–8 and 273. Pollard 2007, op. cit. (n. 46), 100. He concludes this attractive hypothesis, in the final lines of his article, by pointing out how these shifts could then be understood as “Durene reflections of Roman experiences of, and attitudes towards, the more diverse, post-Severan, Hellenism of the eastern Roman empire.” G. Woolf, “Becoming Roman, staying Greek: culture, identity and the civilizing process in the Roman East”, Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society 40 (1994), 116–143.

OFFICIAL IMAGES IN ATHENS IN THE MIDDLE-IMPERIAL PERIOD1 Elena Calandra The following study focuses on our knowledge of images and other records of the principes in Athens. It is argued that through a survey and analysis of literary and epigraphical sources and a combination of these sources with the preserved images it is possible to further understand the significance of the self-representation of the members of the imperial family in Athens – a centre of undisputed cultural and ethical prestige. Given that the subject of public portraiture of Roman Athens has not yet been subjected to comprehensive treatment, it will be necessary for us to provide a general framework, including the various types of evidence, in order to define the lines of imperial cult in Athens within the context of the use of official images. 1. HADRIAN Our analysis of the middle-imperial period begins with Hadrian, whose actions constituted a strong turning point in the history of Athens. The emperor was, in fact, the first after August to develop in the city both a coherent program of urban-planning and a corresponding political or administrative structure. Such a program differs with the policies of the principes of the 1st century, up and including Trajan, whose interests in the city were inferior and less direct. The program of the Philellenos Emperor, in stark contrast instead, was concentrated on the widespread diffusion of the imperial cult across a number of registers and with a magnificence and a 1

This text was first presented in 2008. From then on the number of publications has been greatly increased, not substantially changing the meaning and the content of this study. For bibliographical updates, and for a more in-depth analysis on Hadrian’s portraits in Athens, cf. E. Calandra, “Atene, Adriano e la costruzione del ritratto”, in Adriano e la Grecia. Villa Adriana tra classicità ed ellenismo. Studi e ricerche, E. Calandra and B. Adembri eds. (Verona 2014), 98–105. In every case, the constant growth in the bibliography, especially concerning Hadrian, necessitates a selective approach, and the references have been limited to works concerning aspects of the imperial cult. In order not to weigh down the footnotes, regarding the portraits, only the latest bibliographical records are mentioned. For the monuments and the topography, apart from J. Travlos, Bildlexikon zur Topographie des antiken Athen (Tübingen 1971), ad vocem, see J. M. Camp, The archaeology of Athens (New Haven 2001) and R. Etienne, Athènes, espaces urbains et histoire. Des origines à la fin du IIIe siècle ap. J.C. (Paris 2004). Also of great use is http://www.eie.gr/archaeologia/Gr/index.aspx (visited on May 18, 2015). A review of imperial images in Greece is provided by P. Karanastasi, “Zitímata tis eikonographías kai tis parousías ton romaíon autokratóron stin Elláda”, AEphem 134 (1995), 209–226.

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depth which remained unsurpassed; the high number of altars erected in Athens testifies to the extent of this project. The monumental building program of Hadrian represented a watershed in the development of the city, as is indicated by Pausanias who associated Hadrian’s works a flowering which went beyond even that of the Augustan program.2 When we consider the emperors who will follow Hadrian it is still possible to speak of their having a presence in the city, and it is one that is both political and self-representative in character but it is also one that fails to leave such a visible and continuous trace on the city. Whereas Hadrian had a great personal presence in Athens, visiting it several times and completing a program of monumental transformation, his successors preferred to defer to the traditional means and channels of the cult, carefully directed by the city élite, and represented at their best by Herodes Atticus, perhaps the closest figure to the Emperor in the sense of both his personality and universality of his projects.3 2 3

Paus., Perieg. 1.20.7. For the relation between imperial cult and Athens and on the wider background of the links between Rome, Greece and the Near East, we should mention: D. J. Geagan, “Roman Athens. Some aspects of life and culture, 1. 86 B. C.-A. D. 267”, ANRW 2.7.1 (Berlin 1979), 371–437; D. J. Geagan, “Imperial visits to Athens. The epigraphical evidence”, in Praktiká tou E’ Diethnoús Sunedríou Ellenikés kaí Latinikés Epigraphikés, Athina 3–9 Oktobríou 1982 (Athina 1984), 69–78; S. R. F. Price, “Gods and Emperors: the Greek language of the roman imperial cult”, JHS 104 (1984), 79–95; S. Walker, A. Cameron (eds.) Greek Renaissance in the Roman Empire (London 1989); S. E. Alcock, Graecia capta. The Landscapes of Roman Greece (Cambridge 1993); F. Gascó, “Modelos del pasado entre los Griegos del siglo II d. C. El ejemplo de Atenas”, Polis 5 (1993), 139–149; Atti delle Giornate di Studio su “Atene romana” (Cortona 1993) = Ostraka 4 (1995); C. Böhme, Princeps und Polis. Untersuchungen zur Herrschaftsform des Augustus über bedeutende Orte in Griechenland (München 1995); F. Gascó, “Evérgetas, fiestas y conciencia cívica en las ciudades griegas de época imperial”, in Ritual y conciencia cívica en el mundo antiguo (Madrid 1995), 165–170; F. Gascó, “Evergetismo y conciencia cívica en la parte oriental del imperio”, Habis 26 (1995), 177–186; M. C. Hoff, “The politics and architecture of the Athenian imperial cult”, in Subject and ruler. The cult of the ruling power in classical antiquity (Ann Arbor 1996), 185–200; S. E. Alcock (ed.), The Early Roman Empire in the East (Oxford 1997); P. Herz, “Herrscherverehrung und lokale Festkultur im Osten des römischen Reiches (Kaiser/Agone)”, in H. Cancik and J. Rüpke (eds.), Römische Reichsreligion und Provinzialreligion (Tübingen 1997), 239–264; M. C. Hoff, S. I. Rotroff (eds.), The Romanization of Athens (Oxford 1997); F. Gascó, “Vita della polis di età romana e memoria della polis classica”, in I Greci. Storia, cultura, arte, società, 2. Una storia greca, 3. Trasformazioni (Torino 1998), 1147–1164; F. Lozano, La religion del poder. El culto imperial en Atenas en epoca de Augusto y los emperadores Julio-Claudios (BAR Series 1087) (Oxford 2002); B. Burrell, Neokoroi: Greek Cities and Roman Emperors (Leiden 2004); F. Lozano, “El surgimiento y desarrollo de la adoración imperial: la dicotomía explicativa imposición-espontaneidad”, in Jerarquías religiosas y control social en el mundo antiguo. Actas del XXVII Congreso internacional Girea-Arys IX (Valladolid 2004), 433–439; J. M. Cortés Copete, “Polis Romana: hacia un nuevo modelo para los griegos del Imperio”, SHHA 23 (2005), 413–437; K. Harter-Uibopuu, “Kaiserkult und Kaiserverehrung in den Koina des griechischen Mutterlandes”, in H. Cancik, K. Hitzl (eds.), Die Praxis der Herrscherverehrung in Rom und seinen Provinzen (Tübingen 2007), 209–231; F. Lozano, “Los agones de los Augustos en Atenas”, in XII Congressus internationalis epigraphiae Graecae et Latinae. Provinciae imperii Romani inscriptionibus descriptae (Barcelona 2007), 851–856; F. Lozano, “Divi Augusti and theoi Se-

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We may begin to approach the Hadrianic works by an analysis of the order of the appearance of these images of the princeps in the city: we believe that studying the ways in which these images progressively appeared in Athens will make it possible for us to follow the guidelines provided by Hadrian himself. His image, therefore, will be the focus of a “dynamic” analysis, in which we regard the public image as a tool which is itself capable of shaping the imperial cult. The fact that only a small number of sculptural portraits of Hadrian and Sabina may be said with any certainty to have come from Athens, due to the vagueness of the excavation records, make it difficult to refer these images to their original contexts. Moreover, in most cases only the heads survive making it almost impossible to advance hypotheses about the iconography of the statues or even of the busts to which they belonged. On the other hand, we do have far more precise information from literary and epigraphical sources and it is this which allows us to contextualise portraits which did not survive. As it is known, Hadrian was in Athens on several occasions, both as a private citizen – he resided there in 111/112 or rather in 112/113, becoming Archon in 112 4 and after he had risen to power, staying in Athens for two separate periods. During the first visit5, he stays in the city between 124 and 125; in the second he chose Athens as his residence in 128 and 129 and returned there in 1316, after having travelled in the eastern part of the empire, without going to Rome, he returns to Athens again 133 or 134.7 The simple assessment of his stays in Athens, compared with the travels from there, suggests that for six years Athens, and not Rome, was the official residence of the emperor – an Eastern orientated nerve-centre – a sort of de facto capital, despite the conservative vision of Hadrian.8 The first appearance of an image of Hadrian was in the theatre of Dionysus and it is to be connected with his first visit to Athens, that is during his archonship of

4

5 6 7 8

bastoi. Roman initiatives and Greek answers”, CQ 57 (2007), 139–152; F. Lozano, Un Dios entre los hombres (Barcelona 2010); A. D. Rizakis, F. Camia (eds.) Pathways to Power. Civic Elites in the Eastern Part of the Roman Empire, Athens 2008; D. Terzopoulou, “Worshipping the Emperor: Cult and Power in the Imperial Period”, in P. Adam-Veleni (ed.), Kalindoia. An ancient City in Macedonia, (Thessaloniki 2008–2009), 39–55. Approach from a religious point of view in E. Muñiz Grijalvo, “Efebos e identidad religiosa en la Atenas romana”, in La construcción ideológica de la ciudadanía (Madrid 2005), and “Elites and Religious Change in Roman Athens”, Numen 52.2 (2005), 255–282. P. Graindor, Athènes sous Hadrien (Cairo 1934), 1; C. Evers, Les portraits d’Hadrien. Typologie et ateliers. Académie royale de Belgique. Mémoires de la Classe des beaux-arts (Bruxelles 1994), 32 and 36; A. Birley, Hadrian, the restless emperor (London-New York 2004), 61 and 68. Between 121 and 125 (most recently Birley 2004, op. cit. (n. 3), 68–69). Cfr. also J. M. Cortés Copete, “Adriano, el emperador que viajó”, Historia National Geographic (2005), 58–69. Between 128 and 134 (lastly Birley 2004, op. cit. (n. 3), 68–69). P. Graindor, Athènes sous Hadrien (Cairo 1934), 37–38, suggests, on the basis of coinage, that Hadrian may have been in Rome at the beginning of 132. Graindor 1934, op. cit. (n. 7), 35–38, refers to Athens as an “oriental capital”.

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112.9 There is, in fact, a second image of Hadrian of pre-imperial date which also comes from Greece, from Potza which is near Koroneia in Boiotia. 10 The dedication in the theatre of Athens, a location both highly attended and politically charged, shows the deep devotion of the city towards its Archon, an office which in some ways may be seen as prefiguring the role that he will come to occupy in just a few years. The public exhibition of the portrait of a man of undoubted reputation, belonging to the imperial circle, is not exceptional per se and is even less so if we consider Hadrian’s role at that moment. Nevertheless, the exceptional nature of this location in the urban context of Athens should be stressed, in the sense that it indicates that the city seemed to consider Hadrian’s portrait as official, even though he had not yet achieved power.11 It is, however, unclear if this portrait had already existed or if was created especially for the occasion given the fact that, at present, we do not have any of the sculptural effigies of Hadrian from the theatre. We may advance the hypothesis, though, that Hadrian cemented or completed the image by which he was later to be recognised after his ascent to the position of emperor: we may note the detail, emphasized throughout the bibliography, of the beard as marker of his Philellenism and as symbol of his being an intellectual. A feature which was probably suggested, though perhaps not directly created though the emperor was said to have been a skilful and versatile sculptor,12 by the Emperor Hadrian himself, whose choice of a particular representational form may well have been influenced by aesthetic tastes as well as by political purpose or intent. It is this choice which concluded with the first known official portrait of Hadrian, the so-called “Stazione Termini” type.13 Remaining with the subject of pre-imperial Hadrianic portraiture, there have been a number of attempts to identify Hadrian’s portraits in Rome. Although the suggestion of Trajan’s column, dedicated in 113, does not seem entirely convincing14 a far more likely hypothesis recognizes Hadrian’s portrait in the Adventus scene from the arch of Benevento which was dedicated in 114 but only completed 9 Evers 1994, op. cit. (n. 4), 32 and 36. Cfr. IG II2, 3286 = CIL III, 550. 10 Lastly Evers 1994, op. cit. (n. 4), pp. 32 e 36. 11 On the importance of the theatre within the context of dynastic and imperial ideology: E. Gebhard, “Rulers’ use of theatres in the Greek and Roman world”, Praktikà toù XII Diethnoùs Synedríou klasikìs archaiologías (Athens 1988), 65–69. 12 Aur. Vict., epit. de Caes. 14, 2. P. Zanker, La maschera di Socrate. L’immagine dell’intellettuale nell’arte antica (Torino 1997), 263–268; S. Walker, “Philosophus formosus: Adriano y su barba”, Adriano Augusto (Seville 2004), 103–111; C. Vout, “What’s in a beard? Rethinking Hadrian’s hellenism” in S. Goldhill and R. Osborne (eds.), Rethinking revolutions through ancient Greece (Cambridge 2006), 96–123. 13 Lastly Evers 1994, op. cit. (n. 4), 346. M. Wegner, Hadrian, Plotina, Marciana, Matidia, Sabina (Berlin 1956), remains as a source of lasting and fundamental importance for the study of Hadrianic portraiture, with the updating of M. Wegner-R. Unger, “Verzeichnis der Bildnisse von Hadrian und Sabina”, Boreas 7 (1984), 105–156. The typology of Wegner 1956 is glo bally accepted, and integrated through K. Fittschen, “Eine Büste des Kaisers Hadrian aus Milreu in Portugal. Zum Problem von Bildnisklitterungen”, MM 25 (1984), 197–207, as it will emerge from the following notes, by Evers 1994, op. cit. (n. 4), who prefers to focus issues of production rather than classification. 14 Lastly Evers 1994, op. cit. (n. 4), 55–56.

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in the immediately following years.15 The few years, between the dedication in 114 and Hadrian’s accession to the throne, constitute a crucial period during which the image of the future Emperor was formed. These two images, in the theatre of Dionysos and at the arch of Benevento, are almost contemporary and they do seem to reflect a unitary will, either promoted by Hadrian or with his consent, or preference for self-representations in public places. This approach is evidenced in the fact that images of Hadrian were placed next to those of Trajan; something which could be read as a preliminary to the period after Trajan. Hadrian, after having become princeps, stays in Athens between 124 and 125 on his way back from Asia Minor. These years, and especially 125, are crucial in Hadrianic politics, and this is shown by the presences of images: both those that are epigraphically attested and those, few, sculptures that actually remain. In almost a continuation of the first dedication of the city to Hadrian as Archon the twelve tribes of Athens, most probably on the occasion of the first agonothesia of the Great Dionysia in 125, each dedicated a statue to the emperor and these twelve statues were each set in each one of the wedges of the theatre.16 The symbolic meaning given to the theatre is also reflected in the role embodied by Hadrian, who will occupy the same position as Archon again, between 130 and 132. The entry of the princeps into the city in 125 is considered as the start of a new era.17 In this context it can be no accident that the theatre of Dionysus was, as has been suggested, restored during the time of Hadrian. Even if the works seem to escape from direct Hadrianic commission, the Dionysiac theme represented therein – the scaenae frons is a full depiction of the narrative of the god, from his birth to his entry into Attica, from his marriage with the Basilinna until his final rise to the throne – must surely have been something close to the heart of the emperor.18 We may identify, with varying degrees of certainty, two portraits of the socalled “Rollockenfrisur” type and a third portrait (whose chronotypological seriation was reconstructed by Wegner and accepted by Evers) as belonging to the first years of Hadrian’s stay in Athens.19 We may also identify with certainty as Hadrianic the colossal effigy (of which the head, crowned in laurel, and the armoured torso survive) which was unearthed at the port of Piraeus and which was perhaps flanked by a second statue.20 As an additional reference, though lacking any exegetical influence, we may mention a second though most damaged portrait from Athens, although not from 15 16 17 18 19 20

Lastly Evers 1994, op. cit. (n. 4), p. 58. Evers 1994, op. cit. (n. 4), p. 48 (four bases remain: IG II 3287). A. Karivieri, “Just one of the boys. Hadrian in the company of Zeus, Dionysus and Theseus”, in E. N. Ostenfeld-K. Blomquist-L. Nevett (eds.), Greek Romans and Roman Greeks. Studies in cultural interaction. Aarhus studies in Mediterranean antiquity (Aarhus 2002), 43–48. M. C. Sturgeon, “The reliefs on the Theater of Dionysos in Athens”, American Journal of Archaeology 81 (1977), 31–46; lastly Karivieri 2002, op. cit. (n. 16), 43–48. Evers 1994, op. cit. (n. 4), p. 346. Piraeus Museum. Inv. N. 1197. Status quaestionis in Evers 1994, op. cit. (n. 3), n. 92, 153–154: h: 148cm; h of the head: 49cm. The work was recovered in Piraeus in 1963; subsequent discoveries included part of a thigh of a statue attributed to the head, together with another fragmentary statue, also connected to Hadrian.

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the Acropolis itself, which is housed in the Acropolis Museum.21 Dontas, the editor of this piece, ascribes it to Hadrian and connects with the Rollockenfrisur type mentioned above (but with the variant of the head turned to the right). So much seems clear from the shape of the head itself, even if the overall state of preservation leads to a certain degree of caution.22 At the time of his second official travel to Greece, which included extended stays in Athens, Hadrian clearly widened his political agenda and this widening emerges clearly from his use of images. In 125 he contacted the Delphic Amphictyony, though without success,23 and in 124/125, as always, Hadrian began work on the completion of the Olympieion, inaugurated in 131. In this way he built the foundations for the realization of his ecumenical project, which will lead to the Panhellenion in 131–132 and to the Panhellenia, festivals celebrated for the first time in 137.24 At the same time, in 128–129, the Emperor created a new, thirteenth, tribe named the Hadrianís and placed his own statue alongside those of the heroes of the Attic tribes in the ancient Agora to the East of the Metroon: on the rectangular basement there were the statues of the heroes of Attica, ten in the classical age, corresponding exactly to ten tribes. Over time two further statues, of Hellenistic dynasts, were added.25 Only the foundations of this monument remain. The statues, 21

Athens, Acropolis Museum. Inv. N. Acr. 7279 and 7249. G. S. Dontas, Grèce. Volume I. Fascicule 1. Les portraits attiques au Musée de l’Acropole. Corpus Signorum Imperii Romani ( Athens 2004), n. 19, 50–51. H 31cm. Type “Rollockenfrisur” (variant with the head turned to the right). 22 The portrait of Hadrian from Epidauros also belongs to the “Rollockenfrisur” type (Evers 1994, op. cit. (n. 4), n. 36, 108–109; a variant of the type is attested by the portrait of the loricata statue in Thasos: Evers 1994, op. cit. (n. 4), n. 138, 187–188, who suggests a local Greek workshop. 23 J. M. Cortés Copete, “Delfos, colonia neroniana”, Habis 30 (1999), 237–251 and J. M. Cortés Copete, “El fracaso del primer proyecto panhelénico de Adriano”, DHA 25.2 (1999), 91–112. 24 Graindor 1934, op. cit. (n. 3), 52–53, and 102–111; S. Follet, Athènes au IIme et au IIIme siècle. Études chronologiques et prosopographiques (Paris 1976), 125–135 and 343–345; Geagan 1984, op. cit. (n. 4), 77–78; A. J. S. Spawforth-S. Walker, “The world of the Panhellenion I”, Journal of Roman Studies 75 (1985), 78–104; A. J. S. Spawforth-S. Walker, “The world of the Panhellenion II”, Journal of Roman Studies 76 (1986), 88–105; C. P. Jones, “The Panhellenion”, Chiron 26 (1996), 29–56; A. J. S. Spawforth, “The Panhellenion again”, Chiron 29 (1999), 339–352; I. Romeo, “The Panhellenion and ethnic identity in Hadrianic Greece”, Classical Philology 97 (2002), 21–37; B. Burrell, “Temples of Hadrian, not Zeus”, Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 43 (2002–2003), 31–50; A. Giudice, “Gli Olympieia in età adrianea. Architettura e funzione”, Frankfurter elektronische Rundschau zur Altertumskunde 6 (2007), 3–4. In fact, the scope of Hadrianic reform is far wider: apart from Graindor 1934, op. cit. (n. 4), 73–102 and S. Follet, Athènes au IIme et au IIIme siècle. Études chronologiques et prosopographiques (Paris 1976), 116–125, we should mention at least D. Plácido, “La ley olearia de Adriano. La democracia ateniense y el imperialismo romano”, Gerión 10 (1992), 171–179; E. Kapetanopoulos, “The reform of the Athenian constitution under Hadrian”, Horos 10–12 (1992–1998), 215–237, K. Buraselis, “Zum hadrianischen Regierungsstil im griechischen Osten oder vom kaiserlichen Agieren und Reagieren”, Staatlichkeit und politisches Handeln in der römischen Kaiserzeit (Berlin 2006), 41–54. 25 The date has been proposed by D. Willers, Hadrians panhellenisches Programm (Basel 1990), 68–69, while Graindor 1934, op. cit. (n. 4), 35, prefers 124/125. To the statues of the ten heroes were added: Antigonus I Monophtalmus and Demetrius Poliorketes (for the period 307/6–

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which were probably cast in bronze, did not survive. From the Hellenistic period on this monument symbolized the struggle among the dynasts for control or dominion of the city and it is to this line that Hadrian adds his own figure, presenting himself as the last dynast. An act which no princeps before him had dared to undertake and one which constituted was a step back in time of at least three centuries.26 It is the intention to continue the work of the dynasts to direct the emperor towards the Olympieion, which in its current look is substantially that achieved by Antiochus IV, king of Syria between 175 and 164 BC, as Tölle–Kastenbein has shown. Although the Olympieion was completed by its religious consecration under Hadrian the architectural program was limited to the addition of the surrounding peribolos and the propylon as an entrance, to an existing temple structure. Hadrian had thus the merit of using a completely built temple in order to turn it into an entirely new sacred space, very broad, literally cut in the city. It was introduced by the Gate, dedicated to the citizens by Hadrian, a new founder of Athens as once Theseus had been.27 The other heavily innovative feature adopted by Hadrian, and not reported in relation to the previous phases, are his images on whose use within the Olympieion we may point out some remarks. According to Pausanias (Periegesis 1, 18, 6):28 “Before the entrance to the sanctuary of Olympian Zeus (…) stand statues of Hadrian, two of Thasian marble, two of Egyptian. Before the pillars stand bronze statues which the Athenians call “colonies.” The whole circumference of the precincts is about four stades, and it is full of statues; for every city has dedicated a likeness of the emperor Hadrian, and the Athenians have surpassed them in dedicating, behind the temple, the remarkable colossus.” The guide refers to the presence of two pairs of statues of Hadrian, two in marble of the island of Thasos, and two of Egyptian marble. Egyptian Marble suggests several marbles from Egypt: the porphyry or granite, according to the commentary of Beschi and Musti, and also possibly basalt. Basalt and porphyry, in fact, are imperial marble par excellence, Hadrian’s portraits of remarkable quality are made of 224/3: tribes Antigoneís and Demetriás), with partial substitution through Ptolemy the 3rd Ever getes (224/3–200: Ptolemaís), up to the final substitution (from 200), also with an Attalid, Attalus I (tribe Attalís). Lastly L. Beschi-D. Musti, Guida della Grecia. Libro I. L’Attica (Milano 1982), 277–278; C. Vatin, “La base des héros eponymes à Athènes au temps de Pausanias”, Ostraka 4 (1995), 33–41. 26 In the sense of dynastic euergetism we should also include hydraulic works (most recently S. Leigh, “The reservoir of Hadrian in Athens”, Journal of Roman Archaeology 10 (1997), 279– 290; S. Leigh, “Interdisciplinary research on the aqueduct of Hadrian in the Athenian agora”, Cura aquarum in Sicilia. Proceedings of the tenth international congress on the history of water management and hydraulic engineering in the Mediterranean region, Syracuse May 16–22, 1998 (Leiden 2000), 117–124; Etienne 2004, op. cit. (n. 1), 196). Iconographical suggestions are made in P. Serafin, “Adriano, imperatore romano e sovrano ellenistico”, Rivista Italiana di Numismatica e Scienze affini 103 (2002), 319–336. 27 R. Tölle-Kastenbein, Das Olympieion in Athen (Köln-Weimar-Wien 1994), 156–165; A. Adams, “The Arch of Hadrian in Athens”, Greek Renaissance (1989), 10–15; cfr. also A. Post, “Zum Hadrianstor in Athen”, Boreas 21–22 (1998–99), 171–183. 28 Translation of L. Beschi-D. Musti 1982, op. cit. (n. 25), 95.

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both types of marble.29 The four statues must have been sited in front of the Olympieion, perhaps next to the access propylon.30 Although Pausanias in the Periegesis refers to the bronze statues of city colonies, i. e. the personifications of cities, as being “in front of the columns” their location is not easy to reconstruct. We may perhaps imagine that they were “aligned with the peristyle columns, according to a custom also attested by the Parthenon’s basement”, accepting Beschi and Musti’s reconstruction, which also provides a further comparison with the arrangement of the provinces around the Hadrianeum of Rome31. In the precinct of the Olympieion there were also statues, dedicated by the cities, of Hadrian himself. These statues are attested by the presence of more than twenty bases (IG II2, 3289–3310) and were erected by the Greek cities in 128 which was, most probably, the year of the first Olympeia.32 The fact that a colossal statue was dedicated by the Polis itself suggests the existence of images of different sizes: a point which is confirmed by even the limited number of preserved portraits, which includes pieces which are both larger than life and life size. If the building program at the Olympieion is indicative of considerable energy, an Hadrianic intervention of great effectiveness is undoubtedly that related to the Parthenon. In this regard Pausanias tells that the emperor erected a statue of himself in the temple, along with the statue of Athena, and that by the time of Periegesis, the statue of Hadrian was the only sculpture in the cella:33 “Here, for what I saw in person, there is only Hadrian’s statue.” (1.24.7) At this point, the program of self-deification had apparently been concluded, with Hadrian joining Athena and appearing as a son of Zeus Eleutherios, i. e. of Trajan.34 The choice of the Parthenon, the first and undisputedly great temple of the city, is charged with an additional value, as a “twin” of the Olympieion, if we recall that Antiochus IV himself, the figure responsible for the completion of the temple of Zeus, likewise restored the Parthenon. As early as the first century AD the Acropolis, or rather a section of the site became part the aura of the imperial cult. The imperial cult which began with the monopteros of Augustus was subsequently extended, with the Neronian re-dedication,35 to include, literally, the Parthenon itself 29 Beschi-Musti 1982, op. cit. (n. 25), 326; S. Pergola, “Significato e uso di alcuni marmi colorati nella ritrattistica imperiale”, Marmi colorati (2002), 321–322, and A. Scholl, file n. 24, in Marmi colorati 2002. 30 Beschi-Musti 1982, op. cit. (n. 25), 326. 31 Beschi-Musti 1982, op. cit. (n. 25), 326. Etienne 2004, op. cit. (n. 1), 192–193, proposes to place the statues within the peribolos. For the city colonies Spawforth-Walker 1985, op. cit. (n. 24), 93–94. 32 Follet 1976, op. cit. (n. 24), pp. 345–348, connects the institution of the festival either to the completion of the Olympieion or to the dedication of the statue of Olympian Zeus. 33 Beschi-Musti 1982, op. cit. (n. 25), 129. 34 A. E. Raubitschek, “Hadrian as the son of Zeus Eleutherios”, American Journal of Archaeology 49 (1945), 131–132; already Graindor 1934, op. cit. (n. 4), 58. 35 For the Augustan phase see P. Baldassarri, Sebastoi Soteri. Edilizia monumentale ad Atene durante il Saeculum Augustum (Rome 1998); for the Neronian inscription on the epistyle of the Parthenon see: J. H. Oliver, “Roman Emperors and Athens”, Historia 30 (1981), 412–423; F.

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and then less than a century after Nero the Erechteum, as we will see, assumed a new role in relation to the imperial cult. The exact moment when Hadrian promotes the placement of his statue in the Parthenon and chooses the iconography of the statue itself36 is unknown, but it is by no means unlikely that this would have occurred at the time of the completion of the Olympieion, something which forms a parallel with the program of the Syrian dynast. The erection of the imperial statue in the Parthenon is part of a more complicated political framework or programme which, in large part, still remains to be clarified. From the Acropolis again, from the area between the Erechteum and the base of the Promachos, came many fragments of the Decree of Thyatira, which mention Hadrian’s munificence to the Panhellenion.37 Also from the Acropolis come fragments of other inscriptions of the same type, such as the decree of Synnada (from the area to the east of the Propylaia)38 and the decree (from the western area of the Propylaia) of the city of Sardis, which offers thanks to Hadrian with a formula that makes explicit reference to the Pantheon. According to Follet and Peppa-Delmousou all of these stelai would have been located in the same sanctuary whose site, according to both scholars, should be sought out on the Acropolis.39 Another place where it would be also intriguing to hypothesize the presence of statues of Hadrian is clearly the Library which, as has been widely demonstrated, was also a Kaisersaal – Pausanias speaks of statues in this area but his definition is far too generic to allow us to identify them as imperial portraits.40 A look at the map of Athens and at those areas must clearly subject to Hadrianic influence – i. e. the Olympieion, the Acropolis and the Library (the Hadrianic “response” to the Augustan agora) – indicates the systematic plan through which the princeps clearly intended to reshape the whole urban structure of the city and re-orientate it toward the imperial cult. In this enterprise the visual correspondences between the buildings played anything but a secondary role if we consider the fact that in ancient times the Olympieion area, in the valley of Ilissus, was part of a road-sys-

36 37 38 39

40

Ghedini, Giulia Domna tra Oriente e Occidente. Le fonti archeologiche (Rome 1984), n. 72, 163–164. M. Cadario, La corazza di Alessandro. Loricati di tipo ellenistico dal IV secolo a. C. al II d. C. (Milan 2004), 388, n. 134, hypothesizes that Hadrian’s statue may have depicted him with a cuirass. S. Follet-D. Peppas-Delmousou, “Le décret de Thyatire sur les bienfaits d’Hadrien et le Panthéon d’Hadrien à Athènes (IG II2 1088+1090+ IG III 3985, complétés = TAM V 2, 1180, complété)”, BCH 121 (1997), 291–309. Paus., Perieg. I, 18, 9, with commentary. The Pantheon as well as the Panhellenion have not yet been surely identified on the ground: status quaestionis e. g. in E. Calandra, Oltre la Grecia: alle origini del filellenismo di Adriano (Napoli 1996), 107–110. Follet-Peppas-Delmousou 1997, op. cit. (n. 37), pp. 306–308, propose to identify the Pantheon with the sanctuary of the hero Pandion (only hypothetically placed in the higher part of the Acropolis, beyond the Parthenon), the hero eponymous of the Pandia festival, a festival of all Zeus: Hadrian compared himself with Zeus Olympios Panhellenios. It is a very interesting hypothesis, but it has to be verified in situ. Paus., Perieg. 1.18.9. Calandra (1996), op. cit. (n. 38), 91–94. For a new interpretation of Hadrian’s library: M. C. Monaco, A. Corcella, E. Nuzzo, “Significatoe funzioni della cosiddetta Biblioteca di Adriano ad Atene”, in Adriano e la Grecia, op. cit. (n.1), 49–60.

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tem that enjoyed a visual connection with the Acropolis; the two great cult centres, the most ancient and renewed, looked upon each other. The second stay of Hadrian in Athens – during the course of an official visit beginning with his initiation in Eleusis in the summer of 125 and concluding with the achievement of the epopteia in 12841– was a time replete with monumental significance. We may connect with this period of change the portraiture type “Imperatori 32”, referring to 127/128 or the year of the Decennalia.42 From 128 the Emperor was able to boast of the title of Pater Patriae (probably from the 21st of April), in 128/129 he assumed the title of Olympios and then, in the Spring of 132, that of Panhellenios.43 We may also consider the case of colossal head, of the type “Imperatori 32”, which was discovered on the Phalerus road.44 This piece represents Hadrian with the jewelled oak crown, and thus depicts the emperor as a saviour of the people, inlaid with a representation of the eagle of Zeus and so, also, identifies Hadrian as Olympios, complimenting the cult framework already outlined. 45 In Athens Hadrian is, at present, only represented by two portrait types, “Rollockenfrisur” and “Imperatori 32”.46 This may be accidental or due to our incomplete understanding but in any case it is not possible to make any firm conclusion 41 J. M. Cortés Copete, “Adriano y Filipo II”, F. J. Presedo-P. Guinea-J. M. Cortés-R. Urías (eds.), Chaire. II Reunión de historiadores del mundo griego antiguo. Homenaje al profesor Fernando Gascó (Sevilla 1997), 405–410. 42 Evers 1994, op. cit. (n. 4), 346. 43 Follet 1976, op. cit. (n. 24), 59. 44 Athens, NM Inv. NM 3729. H cm 0, 55. Pentelic marble. Most recently Evers 1994, op.cit. (n. 4), 86–88, 252, 257, 299 n. 12; K. Rhomiopoulou, Syllogí Rhomaïkón glyptón. Ethnikó Archaiologikó Moyseio, s.1. n. 81, 61; N. Kaltsas, Sculpture in the National Archaeological Museum (Athens 2002), n. 720, p. 340. Cfr. also A. Datsouli-Stavridis, Romaïká Portraïta stó Ethnikó Archaiologikó Mouseío tis Athénas (Athens1985), n. 42, Pll. 39–40 and Willers 1990, op.cit. (n. 24), 48, Pll. 6.3–4. 45 On the meaning of Olympios see Willers 1990, op. cit. (n. 25), 58–60. On the study of Hadrianic altars A. Benjamin, “The altar of Hadrian in Athens and Hadrian’s Panhellenic Program”, Hesperia 32 (1963), 57–86 remains fundamental; on the oak-leaves crown see C. Maderna, Iuppiter, Diomedes und Merkur als Vorbilder für römische Bildnisstatuen. Untersuchungen zum römischen Idealporträt (Heidelberg 1988), 76, and L. A. Riccardi, “Uncanonical imperial portraits in the eastern Roman Provinces. The case of the Kanellopoulos emperor”, Hesperia 69 (2000), 105–106. 46 Although two further pieces (two fragmentary portraits preserved but not exhibited at the NM of Athens) have also been ascribed to this same type, i. e. “Imperatori 32”, they must be left sub iudice as they have not been subjected to any complete study. The pieces are, first, a fragmentary colossal head which was considered to be that of Hadrian, most recently, by Evers 1994, op. cit. (n. 4), n. 10, 85–86 (Inv. N. NM 632, from the Athenian Agora, excavations 1885); the second piece, another fragmentary head, cannot be ascribed with any certainty to the corpus of Hadrianic portraits (Inv. N. NM 4901) though it has been attributed to these (A. Datsouli-Stavridis, “Eikonistiká a´”, Adelt 29 (1974), 187–193: 189–190, n. 3 to the type “Imperatori 32”), something considered as unverifiable by Evers 1994, op. cit. (n. 4), 200. According to Evers 1994, op. cit. (n. 3) the following also belong to the type “Imperatori 32”: a portrait of generic Cretan provenance, today at the Heraklion Museum (n. 46, 115–116: Greek workshop); a portrait from Heraklion on a bust with lorica, today in Paris, Louvre Museum (n. 85, p. 148: Greek workshop).

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concerning the number and form of Hadrianic portrait types. The position becomes less clear if we consider that there are other portraits of Hadrian, from the Greek world which may indeed be ascribed to other types.47 It is this fact which prevents us from making any hasty conclusions concerning imperial portraiture in Athens. Looking at them, but more generally to the whole Hadrianic portraiture in Greece, we can not avoid a further consideration. It is usually assumed that the Portrait-types were created in Rome and then copied throughout the empire and, in this sense, the dating of all of the types of Hadrian’s portraits have always been associated with the periods when Hadrian was actually in Rome, on the basis of the assumption that the Urbild was only created in Rome. The emperor was, in fact, away from Rome for six years and the “Busti 283” type (the last type, following the “Imperatori 32” type) is dated to the period immediately following his last return, i. e. in conjunction with the Vicennalia in 137.48 Now, if the creation of a portrait type is axiomatically sited in the capital, for what it concern the imperial portraits – and in this case, Hadrianic – which come from Athens we must consider the problem of the non-urban workshops. Such a question is among one of the most complicated problems of Roman art-history, as has been 47 Evers 1994, op. cit. (n. 4) also lists the following pieces: 1) “Stazione Termini” type (a type coinciding with Hadrian’s ascent to power, probably created earlier than the actual moment: 346): – Portrait statue from the theatre of Hierapytna, today in the Archaeological Museum at Istanbul (n. 50, 119: Greek workshop); the portrait statue from the Nymphaeum of Herodes Atticus in Olympia, today in the Archaeological Museum at Olympia, could be considered as a variation of the same type but one which is, nevertheless, posthumous (n. 75, 139: Greek workshop); – Portrait from Cyrene, therein preserved at the Archaeological Museum, possibly coming from the area between the Caesareum and the Agora (n. 33, 106: local workshop). 2) Variant of the type “Stazione Termini”: – Portrait formerly from Cyrene, therein preserved at the Archaeological Museum, possibly coming from Temple B (n. 34, 106–107: local workshop); – Portrait on a palliate statue, from Cyrene, today in London, British Museum (n. 57, 125– 126: local or Greek workshop); 3) Klitterung of the type “Stazione Termini – Chiaramonti 392” (the second is very similar and re-actualizes the Termini type; it could be connected to the arrival of Hadrian in Rome the 9th of July 118): – Portrait statue from the Diktynnaion of Crete, at the Museum of Chania (n. 24, 98–99: oriental workshop); “Baia” type, connected to the second Adventus Augusti in Rome, in 125 (346) – Portrait from Heraklion, today in Paris, Louvre Museum (n. 86, 148–149: Greek workshop?); 4) “Tarragona” type, to be placed between the “Rollockenfrisur” type and the “Baia” type (346–347): – Unfinished portrait, from Sparta, today in Athens NM (n. 9, 85: Greek workshop). More problematic is the attribution of another portrait statue from the Cretan Diktynnaion, a portrait which was destroyed and which Evers has ascribed to the “Busti 283” type (Evers 1994, op. cit. (n. 4), n. 23, 97). Finally, we should mention a portrait found in 1988 in the Roman Agora of Athens (Willers 1990, op. cit. (n. 25), 48, n. 218) and preserved in the National Museum at Athens (Evers 1994, op. cit. (n. 3), 200, publishes it as not verifiable). 48 Evers 1994, op. cit. (n. 4), 346.

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emphasized, on a province-wide scale, by a rich tradition of studies: Zanker49 recognizes in Hadrianic portraiture the starting point for our consideration of provincial productions and Evers considers all of the portraits of Hadrian from Athens as having been created by Greek workshops.50 It should be noted here that even when a portrait can be easily reconnected with or identified as one of the recognized types in the Greek world and in the Eastern world any portrait has a different stylistic quality, and continues the “Hellenic” tradition in the modelling of the forms in opposition to the cold, objective, representations typical of Roman workshops. This method or approach to artistic creation was certainly not uncommon and was well practised in some Attic workshops but it may also have emerged as a response to a direct stimulus or direction which emanated from the emperor himself. Hadrian was indeed an emperor, as we have previously mentioned, endowed with an artistic vocation and such a vocation may have had some influence. The question, though, is more general. In Greece, the princeps seems to have felt more “free” as regards the rules or canons of urban self-representation and it is this “freedom”, which is first of all of stylistic in nature, which may have allowed for the modification of what we refer to today as a “Portrait-type”. In this context we should, at least, mention the controversial portrait which was found in 1888 at the Olympieion and which has been at different timed included within or withdrawn from the Hadrianic corpus.51 The finding place, with its symbolic meaning earlier evoked, and the portrait size, with larger the life proportions, may be a representation of some other notable person but the work, even though of high quality, is closer to the portraits of Hadrian more in a general sense that as regards specific details. If compared to those portraits which are clearly and certainly considered Hadrianic, the face has less strong form and less marked features, perhaps younger and softer. This last detail could be taken to suggest that this is a juvenile portrait of the Emperor, one of a group which have not survived, a suggestion which would explain the similarities but the lack of precise correspondence. This possibility, however, is precluded by a technical detail, namely the pupils’ incision, which dates this piece to some time after 130.52 At this point it would be too cumbersome, and not enough documented, to consider the hypothesis that this portrait may be a late copy of an earlier portrait of a juvenile Hadrian, whose appearance would be only presumed and not certain. We may conclude by considering two other pieces of the imperial program of the Hadrianic age, i. e. the two loricatae statues, though not without some reserva49

50 51

52

E. B. Harrison, The Athenian Agora I. Portrait Sculpture (Princeton 1953), 89–90; G. Gualandi, “Una testa di Adriano da Hierapolis (Frigia)”, Rivista di Archaeologia 1 (1977), 64–88; P. Zanker, Provinzielle Kaiserporträts. Zur Rezeption der Selbsdarstellung des Princeps (München 1983), 7–10 and 26–29; K. Fittschen, “Eine Büste des Kaisers Hadrian aus Milreu in Portugal. Zum Problem von Bildnisklitterungen”, MM 25 (1984), 197–207; lastly Riccardi 2000, op. cit. (n. 45), 113–127. See previous notes. Athens, NM. Inv. N. MN 249. H 61 cm. Pentelic marble. Status quaestionis in Evers 1994, op. cit. (n. 4), 273, 281–282, 289, who rejects the identification with Hadrian, and in Riccardi 2000, op. cit. (n. 45), 127, who favours identification (as does Kaltsas 2002, op. cit. (n. 44), n. 718, 339). On the incision of the pupils see Wegner 1956, op. cit. (n. 13), 61, 72.

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tions given that both are headless. The first lorica is centred around a distinctly Dionysiac symbolism, expressed by two Panthers facing each other while worshipping a bearded and winged Rankengottheit.53 The second was found in the old Agora and has been associated with, recently, the passage where Pausanias mentions a statue of Hadrian together with one of Zeus Eleutherios 54. The second lorica shows a program of some relevance: in the centre of the cuirass there is a representation of the Palladium, symbol and guarantee of the aeternitas of Roman rule, as do guarantee the she-wolf with the twins depicted therein; the Palladium is flanked by the owl, the symbol of Athens, and by the snake which may be connected with Erichtonius.55 On the pteryges there are two young faces depicted in profile, mirror-like, in which it is possible to recognize the features of Antinous, whose hair-cut denotes him as an ephebe, in a rather unusual but not unique iconography, if we consider the panorama of the portraits of the young boy, in whose honour Hadrian dedicated the Antinoeia in Athens, in Eleusis and in Mantinea.56 This image of Antinous could be connected with that on a relief from Villa Adriana, today at the British Museum, which depicts an ephebe, probably Antinous idealized, in the act of driving a horse. This relief, in turn, could be linked with the Parthenonic tradition to the point that it can be supposed that Hadrian himself, who admired the frieze around the cella, may have suggested that the craftsmen take the parade of horseriders as a model for the relief.57 This may be just a chain of linked references, which, though, may have some consistency and suggestiveness. The picture is completed with the reference to the only portrait ascribed to Sabina, Hadrian’s wife, which is of Attic production.58 2. THE ANTONINE EMPERORS The Antonine emperors left no monumental traces on the Athenian soil but, instead, focused their euergetical programme on the monumentalization of Eleusis, which can be rightly read as a part of urban Athens. In the Attic metropolis the imperial family preferred to entrust the conveyance of a political message to a variety of different means, such as festivals, ceremonies of worship and cultural enterprises in 53 Cadario 2004, op. cit. (n. 35), 373–374 and 376. 54 Paus., Perieg. 1.3.2. Etienne 2004, op. cit. (n. 1), 191. 55 Athens, Agora. Inv. N. S 166. Found 1931. Essential bibliography: Wegner-Unger 1984, op. cit. (n. 13), 109; Cadario 2004, op. cit. (n. 45), 388–389, for the cuirass decoration, on which cfr. also R. A. Gergel, “Agora S166 and related works. The iconography, typology, and interpretation of the eastern Hadrianic breastplace type”, Χαρις, Essays in honor of Sara A. Immerwahr (Princeton 2004), 371–409. 56 Follet 1976, op. cit. (n. 24), 322–323. 57 E. Calandra, “Arcaismi della memoria: il rilievo da Villa Adriana al British Museum di Londra”, Ostraka 2 (1997) 2, 23–34. 58 Athens, NM Inv. N. NM 449. H 32 cm. Thasian marble. Essential bibliography: A. Carandini, Vibia Sabina (Firenze 1969), n. 27, 161–166; Wegner-Unger 1984, op. cit. (n. 13), 146; Kaltsas 2002, op. cit. (n. 44), n. 722, 340, who considers it a private portrait.

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addition to portraits, of which there is little of a remaining record.59 Within Athens itself, however, and existing as a parallel programme integrated into imperial activity, we should recognise the ‘imperial’ works of Herodes Atticus as a representation, and apparently private interpretation, of the kings’ wishes.60 The certain presence of the image of Antoninus Pius in Athens is attested by the discovery of a bust which was found during the excavations of the Late Areopagus houses and,61 though with far less certainty, by a head of alleged Athenian origin which has not been universally attributed to the emperor.62 The bust in the Agora Museum which represents the princeps with Lorica and Paludamentum can be classified as being of the “Vatican Croce Greca 595” type. This bust is very similar to the eponymous portrait, considered as the head of the series, from Ostia and today at the Vatican Museums although the Athenian piece, when compared with the Vatican portrait, was clearly the subject of a somewhat more refined treatment.63 The most interesting point, however, is to be found with the last location of this piece and the conditions in which it was discovered – in a well of Areopagus house C together with two portraits of private women and a small statue of Herakles; a head of Helios, one of Nike and a portrait of a private male were found in a second well at the same house; a number of sculptures were also recovered from other nearby houses. 64 It has been clearly demonstrated that the period of use for the entire housing area extended from the second half of the fourth to no later than the mid-sixth century. Although we lack a true context for these pieces we may advance or imagine the hypothesis that these statues and portraits constituted a private gallery or collection which included a portrait of an emperor, namely Antoninus Pius, who had passed away some centuries before.65 The hypothesis of private context, above, may also assist us to understand the difficulty we have to identify and associate the second piece mentioned in the pre59

60 61

62

63 64 65

On Athens-Eleusis relations see, most recently L. A. Riccardi, “The bust-crown, the Panhellenion and Eleusis. A new portrait from the Athenian agora”, Hesperia 76 (2007), 365–390: 383– 388. Interesting points are made in S. Follet, “Lucien et l’Athènes des Antonins”, Lucien de Samosate. Actes du colloque international de Lyon organisé au Centre d’études romaines et gallo-romaines les 30 septembre-1er octobre 1993 (Lyon 1994), 131–139. Lastly J. Tobin, Herodes Attikos and the city of Athens. Patronage and conflict under the Antonines (Amsterdam 1997); M. Galli, Die Lebenswelt eines Sophisten. Untersuchungen zu den Bauten und Stiftungen des Herodes Atticus (Mainz 2002). Athens, Agora Museum Inv. N. S 2436. R. Invernizzi, “Alcuni ritratti di età antoniniana dalla Grecia”, Annuario della Scuola Archeologica di Atene e delle Missioni Italiane in Oriente 41–42 (1986), 343–360; A. Frantz, The Athenian agora 24. Late Antiquity A. D. 267–700 (Princeton 1988), 47–48. H 75 cm, h of the head 30 cm. White marble, coarse grained and crystalline. Athens, NM. Inv. N. 5241. Lastly, Kaltsas 2002, op. cit. (n. 44), n. 719, 339, with previous bibliography, considers the portrait as private, and declares its provenance unknown, in disagreement with the Museum label which affirms that the portrait can be identified with Antoninus Pius, comes from the city. Cfr. also Invernizzi 1986, op. cit. (n. 61), 346–347. The creation of the type has been linked to the Decennalia of the Emperor, in 148: M. Wegner Die Herrscherbildnisse in antoninischer Zeit (Berlin 1939), 23–24. Frantz 1988, op. cit. (n. 61), 41. Frantz 1988, op. cit. (n. 61), 47–48.

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vious paragraph, the head stored in the National Museum (N. inv. 5241), with the same type if we attribute these difficulties, and deviations in typology, to, once more, to the proclaimed independence of Greek portraiture production rather than to the questionable suggestion that this piece is in fact an image of a private citizen finished as an imitation of an official image of the emperor. The two images of Faustina the Elder both belong to the type “Imperatori 36” which is the most widely attested for the wife of Antoninus Pius. One portrait, known as ‘the larger’, is said to have come, generically, from Athens,66 while the other, recovered from excavations at Syntagma, has been considered by Felletti Maj as a re-elaboration, rather than copy, of the archetype.67 This is in line with a trend which was first observed in Hadrianic portraiture. Lucius Verus was the first of the co-rulers to go to Athens and was to remain in the city, as a guest of Herodes Atticus, for the period prior to his expedition against the Partians, a period which occurred at some time between 10 December 161 and 10 December 162, as can be from the evidence of minted coins.68 We can connect two portraits at the National Museum with Marcus Aurelius. The first one is considered a Wiederholung – a slight modification of the type “Terme 726” or III, the first official portrait of the emperor Marcus Aurelius, set up in 160 or 161 – 69 the second, with partial damage to the face, can also be identified as this type.70 The absence of the face in another portrait at the Acropolis Museum prevents from recognizing it, with any certainty, as an image of Marcus Aurelius71. Two portraits of Lucius Verus are known to have come from Athens, and are today in the National Museum, both of which can be attributed to the Haupttypus and are chronologically parallel with the type of his brother, type “Terme 726”. They are two heads, both larger than the natural size. One was unearthed at Odos

66

Athens, Acropolis Museum Inv. N. Acr. 2360. Dontas 2004, op. cit. (n. 21), n. 32, 58–59. H 36 cm, h of the head 32 cm. Marble similar to Pentelic. 67 Athens, NM. Inv. N. NM 3663. Essential bibliography: Wegner 1939, op. cit. (n. 63), 153, 282; B. M. Felletti Maj, “Faustina Maggiore”, EAA (1960), 600–601. The exact find spot, during the excavations of 1929 in front of the – then – Royal Palace in Syntagma, is not certain and no further light was shed on this matter by the other excavations of the area for the Olympic games: we may only say from the evidence there was a Roman period quarter in this area and that several discarded marble sculptures of the imperial age come from this area (O. Zacharidou, “Stathmós Syntagma”, in L. Parlama-N. C. Stampolides (eds.) I póli káto apó tin póli. Eurémata apó tis anaskaphés tou Metropolitikoú Siderodrómou ton Athenón. Ídruma N. P. Goulandré Mouseio Kukladikés Téchnes (Athens 2000), 149–161). 68 Follet 1976, op. cit. (n. 24), 135. 69 Gift Argyros, of asserted Athenian provenance. Inv. N. MN 572. Most recently, see Rhomiopoulou s. d., op. cit. (n. 44), n. 96, 65; Kaltsas 2002, op. cit. (n. 44), n. 725, p. 342. H cm 35. Pentelic marble. Wegner 1939, op. cit. (n. 63), 12, 40, 42–43, 94, 194, 280, dates the type to 161, while M. Bergmann, Marc Aurel (Frankfurt am Main 1978), 41, and K. Fittschen, s. v. “Marco Aurelio”, EAA Suppl. 1 (1995), 539–540, thinks of 160, in consideration of the designation to the consulate for the following year of the two coregents. 70 Inv. N. MN 514. From Athens. Wegner 1939, op. cit. (n. 63), 168, 282. 71 Inv Inv. N. Acr. 7248. From Athens. Pentelic marble. H cm 29. Dontas 2004, op. cit. (n. 21), n. 44, p. 66.

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Kolokotroni 1372, an area whose Roman phase is known, whereas the other, which quite similar, was discovered in the theatre of Dionysus, as was classified as Wiederholung of the Haupttypus within the Group Dresden-Venice. 73 Three portraits of the wife of Marcus Aurelius, Faustina the Younger, were recently recognized by Dontas. Of these three, however, only one can be identified with any certainty with the empress and could be ascribed to Type 5 Fittschen, datable to 152.74 It was recently found on the northern slopes of the Areopagus hill but it is feasible that the original location may have been elsewhere in the general area. Along with the plastic images of the Antonine emperors reviewed above, an interesting piece of evidence is contained in a letter, dated to 179, from the Gerousia Offices of Athens which mentions portable bronze portraits, protomaì, of Marcus Aurelius and Commodus and their wives, Faustina the Younger and Crispina.75 Such pieces of evidence are not to be found among the most common examples in the Greek and micro Asiatic landscape: although similar examples regarding the requirements for the public display of imperial images can be found at Gythion, during the Tiberian period,76 and a century later at Ephesus within the context of the ceremony sponsored by C. Vibius Salutaris which centred around silver images of Trajan and Plotina.77 The Antonine emperors also promoted their images through the celebrations of the imperial cult: the Hadrianeia of the Antonine age; the Philadelpheia held in honour of M. Aurelius and L. Verus and certified for the first time in 162/163; the Antoneia, or Antonineia, created by Antoninus Pius or Marcus Aurelius; the 72 Inv. N. NM 3740. Lastly, Kaltsas 2002, op. cit. (n. 44), n. 732, p. 345. H 37cm. Pentelic marble. 73 Athens, NM. Inv. N. NM 350. Essential bibliography: Wegner 1939, op. cit. (n. 63), 94, 226, 282; Datsouli-Stavridis 1985, op. cit. (n. 44), n. 83, 67–68. Pentelic marble. 74 Athens, Acropolis Museum. Inv. N. Acr. 13366. Dontas 2004, op. cit. (n. 21), n. 47, 67. The portrait was discovered in 1978 among the roots of a cypress lifted up by a violent storm. H 40cm, h of the head 25cm. Parian marble. Type 5 K. Fittschen, Die Bildnistypen der Faustina minor und die Fecunditas Augustae (Göttingen 1982), 51–53. The other two portraits are far too badly preserved to be attributable: of the first (Dontas 2004, op. cit. (n. 21), n. 45, 66) the face is not preserved, of the second (Dontas 2004, op. cit. (n. 21), n. 46, 66–67) only a small portion remains. 75 Lastly Fittschen 1999 (n. 74), 122 and note 631; it must be cited, at least for the edition of the complete text and updated discussion, J. H. Oliver, Marcus Aurelius. Aspects of Civic and Cultural Policy in the East (Princeton 1970), 84–91. On the sacred Gerousia, instituted in 177 by Marcus Aurelius or Commodus, Follet 1976, op. cit. (n. 24), 140–141, and P. Baldassarri, “Copia architettonica come memoria del passato. I Grandi Propilei di Eleusi e il santuario eleusino in età antonina”, Arte e memoria culturale (2007) 211–233: 232: this is a little known civic organ, which has “compiti di sostegno amministrativo al culto di Atena ad Atene e di gestione delle cerimonie religiose legate ad esso, in primo luogo delle Panatenee, e al culto imperiale in concomitanza con queste”. 76 SEG 11, 923. The inscription from Gythion is datable around 15 AD (H. Seyrig, “Inscriptions de Gytheum”, Revue Archéologique 29 (1929), 84–106; M. Rostovtzeff, “L’empereur Tibère et le culte impérial”, Revue Historique 163 (1930), 1–32. Most recently, E. Calandra-M. E. Gorrini, “Cult practice of a Pompe in the imperial age: SEG XI.923 2008”, Σπαρτα Vol. 4.2 (2008), 3–22). 77 Lastly K. Fittschen, s. v. Ritratto, EAA II Suppl. (1996), 122, note 632.

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Epineikia, the competition created in 165/166 in honour of M. Aurelius and L. Verus to celebrate the Parthian victory in 165. On the other side, it was the city that established the Comodeia, which was still celebrated in the first decades of the third century albeit with something of a parenthesis due to the damnatio memoriae. Finally, a tribute was made to the city itself by the establishment of the Athenaia, agones dedicated to Athens in a year between 184 / 5 and 190 / 1.78 The link between the city and the imperial cult was further strengthened by the recovery of coin issues dedicated to the Poliadic goddess which took place in the Hadrianic and Antonine periods.79 A further action which was perhaps more visible within certain sectors of Athenian society than other but which was certainly not negligible, if we consider the impact of culture as a political tool, was the creation of the four chairs of philosophy in 176 by Marcus Aurelius who instructed Herodes Atticus to select the persons in charge, persons who were to be paid through the revenue of the imperial tax.80 Finally, a special role was played by the sanctuary of Eleusis where the Antonine emperors seem to have enacted their programme of monumental construction, a programme lacking in Athens. In fact, for Marcus Aurelius, Lucius Verus and Commodus their presence in the Attic metropolis was substantiated and strengthened through their initiations at the sanctuary, a point which confirms the nature of religious and political expansion of Athens. The first to be initiated, as we are reminded by two priestly inscriptions at Eleusis (those of Lucius Memmus of Thorikos and hierophant Titus Flavius Leosthenes of Paeania)81 was Lucius Verus in 162. Fourteen years later, in the autumn of 176, Marcus Aurelius was initiated, adlectus among the Eumolpidae and Archon, as was his son, Commodus, who became archon among the Eumolpidae between 182 and 192 and went on to become panegyriarchas of the mysteries in 187 or 192. These events are certified by three inscriptions: the one already mentioned by Lucius Memmius, a second in honour of the hierophantidis Isidote who initiated Marcus Aurelius and Commodus and a third which contains a short poem in honour of Titus Aurelius Philemon, archon, general and later herald of the Council and the People.82 In conjunction with this initiation, the Telesterion was restored and the Great Propylaia constructed following an exclusively imperial initiative.83

78 On imperial festivals Follet 1976, op. cit. (n. 24), 323–328. 79 Graindor 1934, op. cit. (n. 4), 114–114, highlights the nature of Athens as a free city for the coinage; for the Antonine period H. C. von Mosch, Bilder zum Ruhme Athens. Aspekte des Städtelobs in der kaiserzeitlichen Münzprägung Athens (Milan 1999), 20–22. 80 Sources in Baldassarri 2007, op. cit. (n. 75), 232. 81 Follet 1976, op. cit. (n. 24), 136. 82 Follet 1976, op. cit. (n. 24), 136–138. 83 Baldassarri 2007, op. cit. (n. 75), 231–232, with previous bibliography.

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3. THE SEVERANS The relationship of Septimius Severus with Athens is somewhat controversial with the future emperor spending something of an unhappy period in the city during his military command of Syria in 179.84 Although it must remain uncertain we may attribute to him a portrait of colossal dimensions.85 The portrait surely belonged to an acrolith and was to be completed through the insertion of the ocular globes, in other materials, and through the application of a metal crown, as can be inferred from the presence of holes in the hair: it is therefore a typical example of a phenomenon, previously suggested, of the specific or local nature of official portraiture type and style in Greece and Asia Minor. If, however, caution is required with the identification of the princeps the documentation on the imperial cult in Severan era is of great interest. We must mention first of all the Severeia, celebrated on an annual basis, and the Great Severeia, celebrated every five years and beginning in 202/203 (although the date of the first games may actually have been four years before) and ending in 235/6.86 To obtain the grace of the reigning family, and especially that of the Emperor’s consort, the Polis promoted the dedication of two statues to Julia Domna on the Acropolis. The decree in question, hypothetically dated to around 195, establishes for the erection of two statues of the empress: a golden agalma sited in the Parthenon (also the site of a statue of Hadrian)87 and a second statue of the empress as Athena Polias which was to be consecrated within the archaios temple.88 The archaios neos was actually absorbed by the Erechteion, a point which suggests that the statue of Julia Domna was in the Erectheion itself. This temple therefore became the locus of imperial cult and contained the consort of the princeps, either embodying the Poliadic deity herself in the appearance of the empress or, at the very least, alongside the image of goddess. We must also mention one further piece, a miniature head, which constitutes a clear documentation of the spread of the image of the empress. This piece was dis84 85

86 87 88

H. A. Severus III, 2. M. McCann, “The Portraits of Septimius Severus (A. D. 193–211)”, Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome 30 (1968), 50. On the works of the Severans in Athens Geagan 1979, op. cit. (n. 3), 406–407. Athens, NM Inv. N. 3563. Kaltsas 2002, op. cit. (n. 44), n. 751, 355, who prefers Septimius Severus. H 58cm. Pentelic marble. The portrait was found during the German excavations by the Stoa Basileios (according to Wegner 1939, op. cit. (n. 63), 125 and 282, who identifies him with Antoninus Pius) or by the Enneakrounos fountain (Kaltsas 2002, op. cit. (n. 44), n. 751, 355), and it has been identified with Septimius Severus, among the others, by: Zanker 1983, op. cit. (n. 49), 29, note 88, pl. 26, 1–2; K. Fittschen-P. Zanker, Katalog der römischen Porträts in den Capitolinischen Museen und den anderen kommunalen Sammlungen der Stadt Rom, I, Kaiser und Prinzenbildnisse (Mainz 1985), 98, note 3, a; Rhomiopoulou s. d., op. cit. (n. 44), n. 111, 75. Among others, Mc Cann 1968, op. cit. (n. 84), pl. 38, 1–2 and Datsouli-Stavridis 1985, op. cit. (n. 44), 58–59, have suggested Antoninus Pius. Follet 1976, op. cit. (n. 23), 326–327. Essential bibliography: J. H. Oliver, “Julia Domna as Athena Polias”, HSPC Suppl. I (1940), 521–530; Oliver 1981, op. cit. (n. 35), 42; Ghedini 1984, op. cit. (n. 35), 129–130. Oliver 1940, op. cit. (n. 87), 521–530; Mc Cann 1968, op. cit. (n. 84), 58; Geagan 1979, op. cit. (n. 2), 408; Oliver 1981, op. cit. (n. 35), 42.

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covered by the American school during the excavations of the old Agora among the ruins of a thermal building on the North-Western slopes of the Areopagus in a context datable, at the latest, to the fourth century AD.89 This piece has been identified as belonging to the group type I or type Gabii and has been dated between 193 and 210 AD, by Fittschen and Zanker, and to the first years of the reign of Julia Domna and her husband, within 200 AD, by von Heintze.90 If we accept the first of these datings, it would be possible connect this piece with the decree which mentions the two statues of the empress, which we suggest may be dated to around 195. The presence of the son of Septimius Severus and Julia Domna, Caracalla, is testified by at least one portrait. It is a head bearing traces of gilding on the hair which was found, with all probability, on the Acropolis where it was exhibited between 1860 and 1870. The piece is attributable to the Alleinherschertypus 1, in this case left facing, and can be dated to between 212 and 217 AD.91 The likely if not certain identification of Acropolis in terms of provenance, when considered together with the above mentioned two statues of Hadrian and Julia Domna, reinforces our understanding of the Acropolis as one of the places of the imperial cult. The characteristics of the head, which suggest that it belonged to a acrolith, may allow us to assume that, despite the lack of direct evidence, the images of Hadrian in the Parthenon and of Julia Domna in the Erechteum were similarly acroliths. We may also consider a second piece from Athens, a portrait attributed to Caracalla and identified with the Alleinherschertypus, which is today housed in the National Museum. The portrait is on a partially cloaked and smaller that life-size naked torso.92 It should be noted however that both the level of workmanship, which is not of a particularly high standard, and the presence of a number of what may be described as physiognomic approximations prevent us from identifying this piece, with certainty, as an image of Caracalla. The wife of Caracalla, Plautilla, is attested by a portrait of a high level, belonging to type 1st b (“Magazzini Vaticani”), which may be dated to 20293. It was one of the spolia of the Serpentze wall, erected by the Turks in the fateful summer of 1687 on the southern slopes of Acropolis.94 Although this is clearly a secondary position 89 Thompson 1958, 160, pl. 43b. Inv. N. S 1977. H cm 9. Pentelic marble. 90 Ghedini 1984, op. cit. (n. 35), 45, note 17; Fittschen-Zanker 1983, op. cit. (n. 85), n. 30, 28; H. von Heintze in W. Helbig, Führer durch die öffentlichen Sammlungen klassischer Altertümer in Rome IV, (19724), n. 3209, 172. 91 Inv. N. Acr. 1311. Essential bibliography: H. B. Wiggers-M. Wegner, Caracalla bis Balbinus (Berlin 1971), 56, pl. 20 a/b; Fittschen-Zanker 1985, op. cit. (n. 85), n. 25, 106; Dontas 2004, op. cit. (n. 21), n. 68, 78–80, pl. 51. H cm 23. Proconnesian marble or, less probably, from the Parnon mountain in the Peloponnese. 92 Dontas 1969, op. cit. (n. 20), 74, fig. 4; Wiggers-Wegner 1971, op. cit. (n. 91), 56. 93 Athens, NM inv. N. 358. H cm 29. Parian marble. Finding 1876. Essential bibliography: Datsouli-Stavridis 1985, op. cit. (n. 44), n. 75, pll. 99–100; C. Saletti, “Un problema di ritrattistica severiana. L’immagine di Plautilla”, Rivista di Archeologia 21 (1997, now in S. Maggi (ed.), ‘Imagines vaniis artibus effigiatae’. Cesare Saletti: scritti di ritrattistica romana (Firenze 2004), 317–338), 320; portrait of a private woman according to Rhomiopoulou, op. cit. (n.44), 115, p. 75, and to Kaltsas 2002, op. cit. (n. 44), n. 755, 356. 94 W. Judeich, Topographie von Athen (München 1931), 104–105.

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and, as such, cannot be considered conclusive the identification of the Acropolis, regarding provenance, seems convincing. The last exponent of the Severans, Severus Alexander, is not attested through any portraits, but we have sure attestation of special feasts, called Alexandreia.95 4. THE SO-CALLED AGE OF ANARCHY Over and above the Gordianeia, attested in 237/238,96 a far richer source of evidence for this period is provided by the pair of statue-portraits of Balbinus (a well-preserved piece)97 and Pupienus (very fragmented)98 at the Museum of Piraeus. Although the identification of the first piece with Balbinus is not universally accepted it does seem more than likely, even convincing, if we consider the way in which three separate iconographical forms seem to have been intertwined in this portrait;99 those of the Poseidon of Melos, the intellectual or philosopher and the Jupiter with the eagle. This overlapping of iconographies may be understood as a demonstration, once again, that the imperial message was never singular or simple and that it was conveyed through the use of a wide range of mutually reinforcing registers or levels. The presence of portraits of the couple took a further interest, given that Balbinus and Pupienus reigned for only ninety-nine days, in 238 AD, it is of interest that they were able to distribute such a number of pictures in so brief a period.100 In the course of this programme a significant role must have been played by Attic workshops, to which we may attribute at least one other portrait of the emperor which is today in the Museo Nazionale Romano.101

95 Follet 1976, op. cit. (n. 24), 327. We may add to this picture, as an as yet unconfirmed working hypothesis, a male portrait (Neg. Ath., Akr. 2176/7) identified as Elagabalus type 1 (218–219 AD.) by Fittschen-Zanker 1985, op. cit. (n. 85), 115, note 2, published without images and presented as stored at the Acropolis Museum in Athens. It has not been possible to find any additional data concerning this portrait in the bibliography. 96 Follet 1976, op. cit. (n. 24), 327. 97 Inv. N. 278. H cm 202. Greysh marble. Lastly, Maderna 1988, op. cit. (n. 45), p. 55 and n. JV 3, p. 195, with ample bibliography. 98 Inv. N. 125. Lastly Maderna 1988, op. cit. (n. 45), p. 55 and n. JV 4, p. 196. 99 Discussion in Maderna 1988, op. cit. (n. 45), 195; Fittschen 1995, op. cit. (n. 69), 595. 100 Historical context in K. Dietz, “Senatskaiser und ihre monarchias epithumia. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte des Jahres 238 n.Chr”, Chiron 6 (1976), 381–425; K. Fittschen, “s. v. Ritratto”, EAA II Suppl. (1996), 750–760; for the literary sources see G. Lahusen, Schriftquellen zum römischen Bildnis, 1. Textellen. Von den Anfängen bis zum 3. Jahrhundert n.Chr. (Bremen 1984), 375–377. 101 B. M. Felletti Maj, Iconografia romana imperiale da Severo Alessandro a M. Aurelio Carino (222–285 d. C.) (Rome 1958), 143, concerning the statue from Piraeus, which she does not identify with Balbinus, highlights the difficulty of understanding the stylistic context of the workshops of Athens in the 3rd c. AD; for the portrait in Rome, see L. Rocchetti, “Un nuovo ritratto di Balbino”, Annuario della Scuola Archeologica di Atene e delle Missioni Italiane in Oriente 52–53 (1974–75), 393–400; M. Sapelli, “Museo Nazionale Romano. Ritratto di Balbino”, BdA 1–2 (1990), 202–206.

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The plurality of the attestations invites reflection on the mechanics of the diffusion of imperial images and here it seems clear that the first few months, or even the first few days, constitutes the period of the greatest intensity for the promotion of portraits of an emperor. This point is clearly most evident is the case of images of the two co-regents but it is a point or a practice that may be extended, in a more general sense, so as to apply to all imperial portraiture. Although the position of the two statues found at the port of Piraeus is somewhat blurred and uncertain, it is not possible to determine with any certainty where they were originally displayed, they were probably housed in a public building in Piraeus,102 an area which may have lost some of the prestige it enjoyed during the classical period but which was, nevertheless, the city harbour and the place of transit par excellence from the sea to Athens. 5. VALERIAN AND GALLIENUS A new phase begins with the reign of Valerianus and Gallienus, who was the first after Commodus to visit the city in person (Septimius Severus, we may recall, visited Athens as a private citizen). Of the two it is without doubt that the programme of the father, Valerian, left a greater impression on the city of Athens, principally with the creation of the city wall, constructed from reused and existing materials, which bears his name.103 The need to fortify the city highlights the crisis, which can be read at least between the lines of a still incomplete epigraphic documentation. The depth of this crisis can be seen in the almost simultaneous cessation of the many festivals related to the imperial cult mentioned earlier: the Philadelpheia are attested for the last time in 248/249 or 252/253, the Panhellenia in 250,104 the Antinoeia in 255/256, the Hadrianeia in 255/256, and in the same year the Antoneia or Antonineia and Epineikia. If this sequence of events is not the result of mere accident it may be understood as a strong sign of the decline, at least as regards the known practices, of the imperial cult. One response to this trend seems to come from the coin issues: for those which are meant to celebrate Athens it has been demonstrated a date not prior to 255.105 In their turn Valerian and Gallienus established in 255/256 the festivities known as Epineikia, held in conjunction with specific victories. Graindor connects one of these Epineikia to a victory of the two coregents in Germaniae, while a celebration in 266/267 might be related to the resistance against the Herulians.106

102 The porticoes of the Emporion have previously been identified as a suggested location for the statue of Hadrian from Piraeus (Evers 1994, op. cit. (n. 4), 153–154). 103 Frantz 1988, op. cit. (n. 61), 1. 104 Follet 1976, op. cit. (n. 24), 135, 345; Riccardi 2007, op. cit. (n. 59), 384, with further bibliography. 105 Von Mosch 1999, op. cit. (n. 79), 20–22. 106 Follet 1976, op. cit. (n. 24), 141–144.

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If the measures promoted by coregents seem to demonstrate a strong interest in the city, the actual visit of Gallienus may be dated to 264–265, when the emperor is Archon and seeks to gain membership of the Areopagites and gets initiated at Eleusis in the autumn of 265.107 We may connect with this initiation a contemporary coin issue bearing the legend Gallienae Augustae, through which Gallien obviously intended to present himself as equal to Demeter.108 The Eleusinian connection can help to shed light on a portrait, the dating and identification of which is greatly disputed, known as Rhoimetalkes.109 I have elsewhere, following the hypothesis advanced by Alfoeldi,110 identified the Rhoimetalkes as an image of Gallienus, arguing that it is an image of the Emperor in the form of the Eleusinian hero Triptolemos. This reference, to the initiation, would also help explain the youthful characteristics of the portrait, a timeless youth that is proper to such heroes. This heroic character is further signified by the acanthus calyx from which the portrait seems to blossom. We must also note the clear reference to Alexander, suggested by the long hair complete with anastolé. This leaves us with something of a complex portrait and one that is none too distant from the depictions of intellectuals typical in the Antonine age.111 The context of discovery may also provide additional, if uncertain, data. According to the inventories of the manuscripts of the Archaeological Society, the portrait was found in 1876 during the excavations of the upper west of cavea of the Theatre of Dionysus. There is, however, something of a lectio difficilior referred by Picard, who reported that the portrait was discovered in the neighbouring Asklepieion. Although there are a number of reasons for the identification of the theatre as the provenance – especially if we consider the arrangement of the images of Hadrian, thought lost, and that of Lucius Verus, preserved – the Asklepieion seems more plausible, a site where inscriptions have been found which suggest a real gallery of portraits of intellectuals who were often also politically active figures. This trend is particularly well attested in the second century: there are the names of Philopappos, of the neosophist Mestrius Euphrates Tyrius, of the stoic Aurelius Heracleides, of the platonist C. Julius Sabinus, and of Herodes Atticus, the most famous neosophist, with his daughter, Athenais.112

107 H. A., Vita Gallieni, 11.3–5; D. Armstrong “Gallienus in Athens”, ZPE 70 (1987), 235–258. 108 M. Rosenbach, Galliena Augusta. Einzelgötter und Allgott im gallienischen Pantheon (Tübingen 1958), 15–36. 109 Athens, NM Inv. N. 419. Most recently, Kaltsas 2002, op. cit. (n. 43), n. 2003 H cm 49. Discussion and bibliography in E. Calandra, “Gallieno, Atene, Eleusi. Per una rilettura del Rhoimetalkes”, in P. Defosse (ed.), Hommages à Carl Deroux, IV. Archéologie et Histoire de l’Art, Religion (Bruxelles 2003), 20–34. 110 A. Alföldi, Studien zur Geschichte der Weltkrise des 3. Jahrhunderts nach Christus (Darmstadt 1967), 271–278. 111 Zanker 1997, op. cit. (n. 12), 263–268. 112 M. Melfi, “Asclepio, ton en paideia en promotes (Ael. Fr. 99 Hercher): rituale ed evergetismo negli Asklepieia del II sec. d.C.”, in O. D. Cordovana and M. Galli (eds.), Arte e memoria culturale (2007), 241–254. For the study of such a cultural milieu, in which we should also include the kosmetai portraits, see R. Krumeich, “Klassiker im Gymnasion. Bildnisse attischer Kosme-

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If the proposed identification has some stretch of plausibility, they we may say that an image of Gallienus in a similar context, in which Herodes Atticus appears as archiereus of the imperial cult, could make great sense: we would then be faced with an exemplary case of the convergence between philosophy, administration and imperial loyalty.

ten der mittleren und späten Kaiserzeit zwischen Rom und griechischer Vergangenheit” in B. Borg (ed.), Paideia. The world of the Second Sophistic (Berlin 2004), 131–155.

A DIALOGUE ON POWER: EMPEROR WORSHIP IN THE DELPHIC AMPHICTYONY1 Fernando Lozano, Rocío Gordillo This is an assessment of emperor worship in the Delphic Amphictyony. As such it can only begin by noting that existing literary and epigraphic sources on imperial cult in the League are few – and controversial –.2 This makes it difficult to reach definitive conclusions. However, we would like to propose that the revision of the preserved evidences, despite their scarcity, suggests that this prestigious and ancient confederacy fell within the usual framework of the development of imperial cult in the Eastern part of the Roman Empire and did not much differ from the rest of the surrounding leagues and cities.3 1 2

3

This paper has been written with the support of the research projects “Griegos en el Imperio: La invención de una categoría política” (HAR2008–02760), and “Adriano: Imágenes de un Imperio” (HAR2011–26381), both sponsored by the Government of Spain. There are two earlier versions of this paper in Spanish. The first one was published in F. Lozano, Un dios entre los hombres. La adoración de los emperadores romanos en Grecia (Barcelona 2010), 145–156. The second one was published in F. Lozano and R. Gordillo, “El culto imperial en la Anfictionía Pileo-Délfica”, ARYS 8 (2009–2010), 61–78. This paper in English is mainly a translation with minor changes of those previous works with the aim at presenting our conclusions to a wider audience. It has benefited from the feedback received in the International Conference Ruling through Greek Eyes. Interactions between Rome and the Greeks in Imperial times (Seville 15–17 May 2008), as well as from the new literature on the subject. We would like to express our gratitude to A. J. S. Spawforth, J. M. Cortés Copete, E. Muñiz and P. Guinea for their comments, criticism and ideas. The main conclusions put forward in our previous papers, however, remain unchanged, even though we have updated the bibliography, paying special attention to the interesting and fruitful works of M. Kantiréa, Les dieux et les dieux augustes. Le culte impérial en Grèce sous les Julio-claudiens et les Flaviens (Athens 2007) and F. Camia, Theoi Sebastoi. Il culto degli imperatori romani in Grecia (Provincia Achaia) nel secondo secolo D. C. (Athens 2011). On the Amphictyony under the Roman Empire, see: E. Bourguet, De rebus delphicis imperatoriae aetatis (1905); G. Daux, “Les empereurs romains et l’Amphictionie Pyléo-Delphique”, Comptes rendus de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres (1975), 348–362; G. Daux, “La composition du conseil amphictyonique sous l’empire”, Mélanges A. Plassart (Paris 1976), 59–79; J. Pouilloux, “Les épimélètes des Amphictions: tradition delphique et politique romaine”, in Mélanges Pierre Wuilleumier (Paris 1980), 281–299; F. Lefèvre, L’Amphictionie pyléo-delphique: histoire et institution (Athens 1998), 127–134; P. Sánchez, L’amphictionie des Pyles et de Delphes. Recherches sur son role historique, des origins au Iie siècle de notre ère (Stuttgart 2001), 426–463, and R. Weir, Roman Delphi and its Pythian Games (Oxford 2004). See also, more generally: M. Scott, Delphi. A History of the Center of the Ancient World (New Jersey 2014), 203–245. There is a vast historiographical output dealing with imperial cult. Two basic works are S. R. F. Price, Rituals and Power. The Roman imperial cult in Asia Minor (Cambridge 1984), for the Greek East, and D. Fishwick, The Imperial cult in the Latin West, volumes I–III (Leiden 1987–

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The first section focuses on the study of the origins of these rituals during Augustus’ rule and their development throughout the first century AD. It has been suggested that during this period the Amphictyony organized festivals of an imperial nature, which they merged with the Pythian ones. We will put forward the idea that the appointment of a priest also dates from this period, probably even from the time of Augustus, although the existence of the position is not supported by epigraphic evidence until the reign of Nero. In the second part we will explore the second century AD, a period characterised by the appearance of a new title, that of the helladarches. It was also a time of internal conflict between members of the Amphictyony, particularly the Thessalians and the inhabitants of Delphi. We shall explore these conflicts in order to suggest that they encouraged a particular development of the imperial rituals, through the creation of two festivals which became known as those ‘of the two crowns’ and the appointment of a priest with the same unique title. Our aim is then to elaborate on emperor worship in the Amphictyony of Pylae and Delphi, starting with the revision of the opinions about the subject included in the more recent general publications on the confederacy. The two works referred to are those of Sánchez, which appeared in the supplements of the journal Historia, and that of F. Lefèvre, published in BEFAR.4

4

2005), for the West. For a general approach, see also: K. Hopkins, Conquerors and Slaves (Cambridge 1978), 197–242 and M. Clauss, Kaiser und Gott: Herrscherkult im Römischen Reich (Stuttgart/Leipzig 1999). For more titles on the subject, see L. Cerfaux and J. Tondriau, Le culte des souverains dans la civilisation Greco-romaine (Paris 1957), 10–73 and P. Herz, “Bibliographie zum römischen Kaiserkult”, ANRW 2. 16.2 (1978), 833–910; updated with Clauss 1999, op.cit. (n. 3); I. Gradel, Emperor Worship and Roman Religion (Oxford 2002) and Fishwick 1987–2005, op.cit. (n. 3), vol. III. Historiographical attention is paid mainly to regional and local studies; see for example: R. Étienne, Le culte imperial dans la Péninsule Ibérique d’Auguste à Diocletien (Paris 1958); E. Smadja, “Remarques sur le débuts du culte en Afrique sous le règne d’Auguste”, Religions, pouvoir, rapports sociaux (Paris 1980), 151–169; R. Cid López, El culto al emperador en Numidia (Oviedo 1986); U. M. Liertz, Kult und Kaiser. Studien zu Kaiserkult und Kaiserverehrung in den germanischen Provinzen und in Gallia Belgica zur römischen Kaiserzeit (Rome 1998); M. Sartre, “Les manifestations du culte imperial dans les provinces syriennes et en Arabie”, in C. Evers and A. Tsingarida (eds.), Rome et ses provinces: Genèse et diffusion d’une image du pouvoir: Hommages à Jean-Charles Balty (Brusels 2001), 167–186; Gradel 2002, op.cit. (n. 3) and P. Herrmann, “Das Koinon ton Ionon unter römischer Herrschaft”, in N. Ehrhardt and L.-M. Günther (eds.), Widerstand, Anpassung, Integration. Die griechische Staatenwelt und Rom: Festschrift für Jürgen Deininger zum 65. Geburstag (Stuttgart 2002), 223–240. On Imperial cult see also recently: J. Brodd and J. L. Reed (eds.), Rome and religion: a cross-disciplinary dialogue on the imperial cult (Atlanta 2011); P. P. Iossif, A. S. Chankowski and C. C. Lorber (eds.), More than men, less than gods: studies on royal cult and imperial worship (Leuven 2011); G. Woolf, “Divinity and power in Ancient Rome”, in N. Brisch (ed.), Religion and power: divine kingship in the Ancient world and beyond (Chicago 2012), 243–259; M. Koortbojian, The divinization of Caesar and Augustus: precedents, consequences, implications (Cambridge 2013), and T. Gnoli and F. Muccioli (eds.), Divinizzazione, culto del sovrano e apoteosi. Tra Antichità e Medioevo (Bologna 2014). Lefèvre 1998, op.cit. (n. 2) and Sánchez 2001, op.cit. (n. 2). On Imperial cult in the Amphictyony, see more recently: J. M. Cortés Copete, “El fracaso del primer proyecto panhelénico de Adriano”, DHA 25 (1999), 101–102; Weir 2004, op.cit. (n. 2), 57 n. 357, 64 n. 401 and 173–

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Lefèvre produced an extremely interesting work including all the information known to date on the Amphictyony and its historical evolution, thus focusing part of its argument on the period when Greece was a subject of Rome and its emperors.5 The author provides relevant conclusions on the involvement of the Caesars in the league and particularly, on the changes to its membership, but he does not include a detailed assessment of emperor worship, although the appendices contain a table, which shows the most relevant information on the epimeletai, indicating those who had also been high priests.6 Sánchez pays more attention to the rituals of emperor worship carried out by the Amphictyony. His conclusions constitute an updated review of previous positions on this subject. According to his study of the material, the Delphic league did not practice emperor worship in isolation. He states that the assembly was included in the honours celebrated by the province of Achaia under the leadership of the Achaean league.7 His work therefore accepts in general Puech’s conclusions on the configuration of imperial cult in Achaia.8 According to Puech, Greece followed the model of Asia Minor and instituted emperor worship on a provincial scale to be led by the league of the Achaeans. However, Puech contemplated the possibility of Amphictyonic emperor worship in Pylae.9 In Sánchez’s opinion, ‘selon toute probabilité, on n’a pas jugé utile d’instituer deux cultes distinct pour l’Achaïe’.10 This

5 6 7 8

9 10

174; Kantiréa 2007, op.cit. (n. 2), 71–72, 153–156 and 193, and Camia 2011, op.cit. (n. 2), 71–72, 82, 94, 128–129, 155–156, 166–167, 226–227 and 232. On imperial cult in the province of Achaia, see: F. Lozano, La religion del poder. El culto imperial en Atenas en época de Augusto y los emperadores Julio-Claudios (Oxford 2002); Kantiréa 2007, op.cit. (n. 2); M. Kantiréa, “Une famille sacerdotale du culte impérial de Sicyone (Syll3 846 et IG IV 399)”, in A. D. Rizakis and F. Camia (eds.), Pathways to Power. Civic elites in the Eastern part of the Roman Empire (Athens 2008), 15–22; F. Camia, “Imperial Priests in Second Century Greece: a Socio-political Analysis”, ibid., 23–41; A. Lo Monaco, “Il culto di Nerone in Grecia. Immagini e cerimoniale della festa”, ibid., 43–71, and “Ospite nelle case degli dei. Il culto di Augusto in Achaia”, RAL, serie IX, vol. XX, fasc. 1 (2009), 127–170; F. Camia and M. Kantiréa, “The imperial cult in the Peloponnese”, in A. D. Rizakis and Cl. Lepenioti (eds.), Roman Peloponnese III. Society, economy and culture under the Roman Empire: continuity and innovation (Athens 2010), 375–406; Lozano 2010, op.cit. (n. 2), and Camia 2011, op.cit. (n. 2). Lefèvre 1998, op.cit. (n. 2), 127–134. Lefèvre 1998, op.cit. (n. 2), table 7: ‘Épiméletes de l’époque impériale’. See: Sánchez 2001, op.cit. (n. 2), 441–442. B. Puech, “Grands-prêtres et Helladarques d’Acaïe”, REA 85 (1983), 15–43 (but Puech accepted the possibility of an Amphictyonic emperor worship in Pylae, see esp. note 40). For the Achaean cult see: A. J. S. Spawforth, “Notes on the Third Century A. D. in Spartan Epigraphy”, ABSA 79 (1994), 263–288; F. Camia, “IG IV 203: la cronologia di P. Licinius Priscus Iuventianus, archiereus della Lega achea”, ASAA 80, 361–378; Kantiréa 2008, op.cit. (n. 4); Camia 2008, op.cit. (n. 4); Lozano 2010, op.cit. (n. 2), 133–138; Camia and Kantiréa, op.cit. (n. 4), 398–402, and Camia 2011, op.cit. (n. 2), 168–181. For the Achaean league see also: U. Kahrstedt, “Zwei Probleme im kaiserzeitlichen Griechenland II: Das Koinon der Achaier”, SO 28 (1950), 70–75; J. Deininger, Die Provinziallandtage der römischen Kaiserzeit (Munich/ Berlin 1965), 88–91, and J. Warren, “The framework of the Achaian koinon”, in C. Grandjean (ed.), Le Péloponnèse d’Épaminondas à Hadrien (Bordeaux 2008), 91–99. Puech 1983, op.cit. (n. 8), note 40. Sánchez 2001, op.cit. (n. 2), 442.

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reconstruction will be borne in mind in the individual analyses carried out throughout this study, although particular attention will be paid to it in section II, following discussions on the manner in which worship was organised during the second century AD. 1. EMPEROR WORSHIP DURING THE RULE OF AUGUSTUS AND THE FIRST CENTURY AD. After Octavian’s victory over Marcus Antonius in Actium, the territory which became part of the Roman province of Achaia11 underwent major transformations. Some of these are worthy of attention, namely, the progress of oligarchization of the political life of Greek cities and the change in the economic and political axis of the region, which was reflected in the creation of new urban centres, such as Nicopolis, or the establishment of new colonies, such as Patrae. This last development also involved a population movement aimed at dismantling old enemies and providing human resources to the newly-founded centres.12 This new distribution of power in the province also led to the radical reorganization undergone by one of Greece’s more traditional institutions, the Amphictyony of Pylae and Delphi, which was to become dominated by envoys from Nicopolis. In fact, Augustus changed the distribution for the counsellors of the league, which went on to be formed by 10 Nicopolitans, 2 Thessalians, 2 Phocians; 2 Delphians, 2 Dorians (one usually reserved for Sparta), 2 Ionians (one from Athens and the other from Euboea), 2 Boeotians and 2 Locrians.13 This made up a total of 24 representatives, the traditional number, but instead of these being envoys from the twelve antique peoples, with two votes each, they were now controlled by Nicopolis, which united the peoples of western Greece and directed the actions of the 11 On the Roman province of Achaia, see: J. A. O. Larsen, “Roman Greece”, in T. Frank (ed.), An Economic survey of Ancient Rome. Vol. IV (London 1938), 259–498, E. Groag, Die römischen Reichsbeamten von Achaia bis auf Diokletian (Vienna / Leipzig 1939); U. Kahrstedt, Das wirtschaftliche Gesicht Griechenlands in der Kaiserzeit (Berna 1954), S. E. Alcock, Graecia Capta. The Landscapes of Roman Greece (Cambridge 1993), 8–17 and 129–171; R. Haensch, Capita Provinciarum. Statthaltersitze und Provinzialverwaltung in der römischen Kaiserzeit (Mainz 1997), 322–328; J. M. Cortés Copete, “Acaya, la construcción de una provincia romana” in J. Santos Yanguas and E. Torregaray Pagola (coords.), Laudes provinciarum: retórica y política en la representación del Imperio romano (Vitoria 2007), 105–134, and Lozano 2010, op.cit. (n. 2), 103–115. From a different perspective, see also the stimulating work of A. J. S. Spawforth, Greece and the Augustan Cultural Revolution (Cambridge 2012). 12 See specially: A. D. Rizakis, “Roman Colonies in the Province of Achaia: Territories, Land and Population”, in S. E. Alcock (ed.), The early roman empire in the east (Oxford 1997), 15–36; D. Plácido, “Las transformaciones de la ciudad de Atenas desde el inicio de la intervención romana hasta la crisis del siglo III”, Kolaios. Publicaciones ocasionales 4 (Seville 1995), 241– 251, and Alcock 1993, op.cit. (n. 11). 13 Daux 1975, op.cit. (n. 2) and, especially, Daux 1976, op.cit. (n. 2). A different reconstruction can be found in: G. W. Bowersock, Augustus and the Greek World (Oxford 1965) 96–98. See, also, Lefèvre 1998, op.cit. (n. 2), 127–128 and note 616. See also: Weir 2004, op.cit. (n. 2), table 2.1, 60.

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league according to Rome’s guidelines. It has been claimed that the task of control effectively fell upon a post also created at this point; that of the epimeletes, who acted as the political commissar of the emperors within the league.14 The close relationship between members of the local elite of that city and the emperors is proved by the Nicopolitan origin of four out of five of the first epimeletai to hold this position, between the reigns of Tiberius and Nero.15 Moreover, P. Memmius Cleander, who is discussed next in the text, was also most likely of Nicopolitan origin.16 They frequently received the title of philokaisar.17 Another element that reflected the close relationship with the regime was the awarding of divine honours to the emperors. In our opinion, several inscriptions suggest the organisation of imperial cult by the Delphic Amphictyony under the Julio-Claudians. Chronologically the first of these is Delph. 3, 4, 258 (= CID IV, 138): [Νέρωνα Κλαύ]δ̣[ιον] Κ̣ λ̣ α̣υ̣δ[ίου Καί]|[σ]α̣ρ̣ο̣ ς̣ Σεβαστοῦ καὶ Γερμαν̣ [ι]|[κ]οῦ Καίσαρος ἔκγονον, Θεοῦ Σεβασ|[τ]οῦ ἀπόγονον, Καίσαρα, Σεβα[σ]|[τό]ν, Γερμανικόν, ἀρχιερέα, δη|[μα]ρχικῆς ἐξουσίας, αὐτοκράτο|[ρ]α, τὸ κοινὸν τῶν ᾽Αμφικτυόνων| vac. | ᾽Επὶ ῾ιερέως τῶν Σεβαστῶν καὶ ἐπιμελητοῦ| ᾽Αμφικτυόνων Ποπλίου Μεμμίου Κλεάνδρου. The koinon of the Amphictyons [erected a statue of] Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, son of Claudius Caesar Augustus, grandson of Germanicus Caesar and descendant of the God Augustus, pontifex maximus, with tribunician power, Emperor. When Publius Memmius Cleander was priest of the Sebastoi18 and epimeletes of the Amphictyons.

14 On the epimeletes, see: Sánchez 2001, op.cit. (n. 2), 437–441 and Weir 2004, op.cit. (n. 2), 55–58. 15 Pouilloux 1980, op.cit. (n. 2), 281–299. The Augustan reorganization of the Amphictyony, placed under the control of Nicopolis, served also another purpose: “The idealised Amphictyony seems to have been his designated vehicle for dignifying Nicopolis with the aura of the ‘true’ Greece”, Spawforth 2012, op.cit. (n. 11), 161. 16 On the Nicopolitan origin of this epimeletes, see the commentary to CID IV, 138. Lefèvre states that, ‘l’origine nicopolitaine reste donc la plus plausible, compte tenu du fait que c’est aussi celle des trois épimélètes connus ensuite’ (pp. 339–340). 17 On this title see Robert, Hellenica XIII (1965), p. 215–216, and Pouilloux 1980, op.cit. (n. 2), 284, note 15, and 296, note 76. 18 On the cult of the Theoi Sebastoi, see: M. Kantiréa, “Remarques sur le culte de la domus Augusta en Achaïe de la mort d’Auguste à Néron”, in O. Salomies (ed.), The Greek East in the Roman Context. Proceedings of a Colloquium Organised by the Finnish Institute at Athens, May 21 and 22, 1999 (Helsinki 2001), 51–60; Kantiréa 2007, op.cit. (n. 2), 197–199; F. Lozano, “Divi Augusti and Theoi Sebastoi. Roman initiatives and Greek answers”, CQ 57.1 (2007), 139–152, and F. Camia, “Theoi Olympioi e Theoi Sebastoi: alcune considerazioni sull’associazione tra culto imperiale e culti tradizionali in Grecia”, in E. Franchi and G. Proietti (eds.), Forme della memoria e dinamiche identitarie nell’antichità greco-romana (Trento 2012), 93–110.

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The inscription dates to the early stages of Nero’s rule and uses the epimeleia of P. Memmius Cleander to date the action. In this text, the epimeletes is also the priest of the emperors. It is important to note that this is the only preserved inscription where the priest is not described as high priest. This is generally considered to be a local, non-Delphic, priesthood.19 However, in our opinion the combination of the epimeleia with the title of priest of the Sebastoi, together with the collective dedication of the inscription by the amphictyons, suggest that this is an amphictyonic position held by a prominent figure in the confederacy. Nero’s reign also witnessed the second inscription relevant to the topic under study. It records the benefactions of another Nicopolitan at the sanctuary of Delphi (SIG3 813B = CID IV, 139): [Οἱ] ᾽Αμφ[ικτύο]νες καὶ ὁ ἀρχιερεὺς τῶν Σ[εβα]|στῶν καὶ ἐπιμελητὴς τοῦ κοινοῦ τῶν ᾽Αμ|φικτυόνων καὶ ἄρχων τῆς ἱερᾶς ᾽Ακτιακῆς βου|λῆς Τιβ. Κλαύδιος υἱὸς πόλεως Κλεόμαχος,| φιλόκαισαρ καὶ φιλόπατρις, Νεικοπολείτης,| τὸ ἀνάλημμα μέχρι τῆς Πυλίδος ἐποίη|σαν ἐκ τῶν τοῦ Πυθίου ᾽Απόλλωνος τό|κων καὶ προσόδων. The Amphictyons and the high priest of the Sebastoi, epimeletes of the koinon of the Amphictyons and archon of the sacred council of Actium, Tiberius Claudius Cleomachus, son of the city20, friend of Caesar and lover of his country, citizen of Nicopolis, built the wall to the Pylis with the interest and revenues of the Pythian Apollo.21

His title, high priest of the Sebastoi, is identical to the title of the next known officiant, dated in the reign of Domitian (SIG3 813C = CID IV, 141): ᾽Απόλλωνι Πυθίωι| ὁ ἀρχιερεὺς τῶν Σεβαστῶν καὶ| ἐπιμελητὴς τῶν ᾽Αμφικτυό|νων Τ. Φλαύιος Μεγαλεῖνος,| τὴν κρήνην καὶ τὸ ὑδραγώγιον καὶ| τοὺς τοίχους ἐκ τῶν τοῦ| θεοῦ προσόδων.

19 See: Sánchez 2001, op.cit. (n. 2), 442, and also the opinion of Camia 2011, op.cit. (n. 2), 232: “Inoltre, tre epimeleti degli Anfizioni potrebbero essere stati sacerdoti imperiali a Delfi tra il regno di Nerone e quello di Domiziano, ma il loro sacerdozio è più probabilmente da riferire alle rispettive città di origine”. For a different opinion, see our previous works mentioned in n. 2, and Kantiréa 2007, op.cit. (n. 2), 193 who also proposed a federal origin for the priesthood: ‘Le culte impérial s’était organisé également dans l’amphictyonie delphique […] La grand-prêtrise était assumée habituellement par le plus haut fonctionnaire dans la hiérarchie de l’assemblée’. See also the position in Weir 2004, op.cit. (n. 2), 64, n. 401 who stated that “the only priest of the imperial cult attested at Delphi is the Neronian P. Memmius Kleandros”. 20 On this expression see the commentary on the inscription in CID IV, 139, esp. p. 340, n. 12 with relevant bibliography. 21 To identify this wall see: Lefèvre 1998, op.cit. (n. 2), 128. The same person appears in Delph. 3, 3, 181 (= CID IV, 140): the heading is the same, [Οἱ] ᾽Αμ̣ φ ̣ [ικτύο]ν̣ες καὶ ὁ ἀρχιερεὺς τῶν Σ[εβα]|σ̣τῶν καὶ ἐπιμελητὴς τοῦ κοινοῦ τῶν ᾽Aμφικ[τυό]|νων καὶ ἄρχων τῆς ἱερᾶς ᾽Ακτιακῆς βουλῆς Τιβ. Κλαύδ[ιος]| υἱὸς πόλεως Κλεόμαχος, φιλόκαισαρ καὶ φιλόπατρις,| Νεικοπολείτης is also on this occasion in charge of carrying out work on the sanctuary with the money of the god. Cf. Delph. 2, 1, pp 154 and 169–170. In Delph. 2, 1, pp 169–170 it is hinted that the verb ἐποίησαν is pretentious and that the work conducted was not the construction of the walls, but their repair; cf. ILS 8905, line. 3: ‘refecit’. However, the translation has preserved the original meaning.

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To the Pythian Apollo, the high priest of the Sebastoi and epimeletes of the Amphictyons Titus Flavius Megalinus [consecrated] the fountain and aqueduct and walls, using the revenues of the god.22

It is important to emphasise that the three officiants who have been presented thus far are epimeletai as well as priests of the imperial cult. Furthermore, in all three cases the title appears to be formulated identically: first the priesthood, followed by the epimeleia and only then the rest of titles, Amphictyonic or otherwise. As noted, several scholars have suggested that the imperial priesthoods held by these three eminent figures were not Amphictyonic.23 However, in spite of the scarcity and uncertainty of the evidences, we would like to put forward a different reconstruction based in a new revision of the inscriptions. This is particularly true of the first case, in which the office of the epimeletes and imperial priest is used to date the action.24 The use of the term of office of a top official from another polis to date an act in Delphi is unusual. And it is also true of the last two, since Petraeus appears to be carrying out tasks in the sanctuary along with the Amphictyons, while in the case of Megalinus the Amphictyons are even relegated to a secondary position – and he is using the revenues of the god –.25 The appearance of the priest of the imperial cult and epimeletes in an equal position – or even a higher one – in front of the group formed by the rest of participants in the council suggest that these eminent figures occupied a position in the confederacy, and it is also an indication of the importance given to the cult of the emperors by the League.26 Besides, if our proposal is accepted and these three prominent figures are considered priests of the imperial cult in the Delphic Amphictyony, the resulting picture would be more fitting and more in consonance with the usual practice of supra-civic emperor worship in the Greek East.27 In this sense, it is also important to note that the dedications to the imperial family also show the connections between the League and the emperors.28 The 22 The fountain which appears in the inscription has been identified as the Cassotis fountain; see: Pouilloux 1980, op.cit. (n. 2), 288, n. 35 for different opinions on it. Regarding the fountain, see: J. F. Bommelaer, Guide de Delphes. Le site (1991), 204–205. 23 See n. 19 above, as well as Pouilloux 1980, op.cit. (n. 2), 285, n. 23. 24 The first known epimeletes, Theocles, as eponymous in SIG3 791B (= CID IV, 136). 25 See the commentaries to CID IV, 141, esp. p. 343: ‘Les Amphictions n’apparaissent ici que par l’intermédiaire de leur épimélète’. 26 See: Pouilloux 1980, op.cit. (n. 2), 288–289. 27 A model of Imperial cult organization in the Eastern part of the Roman Empire is Price 1984, op.cit. (n. 3). See also more specific works, such as S. J. Friesen, Twice Neokoros. Ephesus, Asia and the Cult of the Flavian Imperial Family (Leiden 1993); M. E. Hoskins-Walbank, “Evidence for the imperial cult in Julio-Claudian Corinth”, in A. Small (eds.), Subject and Ruler: The cult of the ruling power in Classical Antiquity (Ann Arbor 1996); A. Spawforth, “The Early Reception of the Imperial Cult in Athens: Problems and Ambiguities”, in M. C. Hoff and S. I. Rotroff (eds.), The Romanization of Athens (1997), 183–201; D. Campanile, “Ancora sul culto imperial in Asia”, Mediterraneo Antico 4 (2001), 473–488; B. Burrell, Neokoroi. Greek Cities and Roman Emperors (Leiden /Boston 2004) and J. H. M. Strubbe, “The Imperial cult at Pessinous”, in L. Blois, P. De Funke and J. Hahn (eds.), Ritual and Religious Life in the Roman Empire (2006), 106–121. 28 The scarcity and, especially in this regard, the fragmentary nature of the preserved evidence is again a crucial factor to be taken into consideration. See, for example, the commentary to CID

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league dedicated three statues to the children of Agrippa (CID IV, 132A B, and CID IV, 133) and one to Tiberius (CID IV, 136). Later on, the Amphictyony dedicated a statue to a sister of Gaius, most likely Drusilla, who is called ‘the new Pythian deity’ (CID IV, 137).29 Likewise, the change in the officiant’s title around the time of Nero’s rule – from ‘priest’ to ‘high priest’ – is akin to the evolution that can be observed in other cities and leagues of Greece and the Greek East in general, as demonstrated by Spawforth.30 Therefore, regarding the imperial cult, the Amphictyony seems to be acting in consonance with many surrounding cities and leagues. Little is known, however, of the religious activities carried out by the priest of the Sebastoi. After the study and edition of SEG 23, 318, Robert suggested that during the first century AD the Amphictyony organized imperial festivals that were linked to the Pythian games.31 It would not be far-fetched to suggest that it was in these agones where the priests of the emperors would have achieved greater importance, although the idiosyncratic nature of imperial cult rituals makes it impossible to be any more conclusive with regard to this question.32 On the other hand, were we to accept the creation of imperial festivals in the first century AD, maybe even in Augustan times, it could also be suggested that the priesthood emerged at that point, despite the absence of accounts proving this.33 The close relationship that can be observed between the post of epimeletes and the imperial priesthood also suggests the possibility that the priesthood was constituted at the beginning of the Principate, since it is usually accepted that the post of epimeletes was created during the rule of Augustus, even though its first mention dates only to Tiberius’ principate.34 IV, 137: ‘Plusieurs autres bases d’époque imperial, don’t le dédicant est perdu, pourraint être attribuées aux Amphictions, éventuellement associés à la cité’. There is ample room for new findings and new interpretations. See, for example, D. Mulliez, “Notes d’épigraphie delphique VIII. L’empereur Claude, témoin et archonte à Delphes”, BCH 125 (2001), 289–303; and K. Rigsby, “Claudius at Delphi”, ZPE 146 (2004), 99–100 on Claudius’ supposed visit to Delphi. 29 On the cult of Drusilla and her association with deities, see: U. Hahn, Die Frauen des römischen Kaiserhauses und ihre Ehrungen im griechischen Osten anhand epigraphischer und numismatischer zeugnisse von Livia bis Sabina (Saarbrücken 1994), 152–153. See also: Kantiréa 2007, op.cit. (n. 2), 72, and SEG 34, 180 and Lozano 2002, op.cit. (n. 4), 34 and note 118. 30 Spawforth 1997, op.cit. (n. 27), 183–201. On the evolution of the titles, see also: Kantiréa 2001, op.cit. (n. 18) and Lozano 2002, op.cit. (n. 4), 58–60. 31 For these festivals, see: SEG 23, 318 with important corrections by Robert in AEph. (1969), 49–58 (=OMS VII, 755–764). A different opinion in Puech 1983, op.cit. (n. 8), n. 40: “Les Kaisarea n’ont fait à Delphes qu’une apparition éphémere (une seule attestation)”. See also: Camia 2011, op.cit. (n. 2), 94–95, 128–129 and 158: “È quindi probabile che l’attribuzione dell’epiteto Kaisareia ai Pythia abbia rappresentato un episodio isolato dei concorsi pitici e che non determinò, se non temproraneamente, l’associazione degli imperatori alla festività delfica” (129). Kantiréa 2007, op.cit. (n. 2), 155–156 suggested that the introduction of the Kaisareia took place under Domitian. 32 On the functions of the imperial cult’s priest, see: Price 1984, op.cit. (n. 3), 210–214 and Friesen 1993, op.cit. (n. 27), 146–152. 33 On the possibility of a cult of Augustus at this early period, see: Lefèvre 1998, op.cit. (n. 2), 127–128: ‘L’Amphictionie rendit peut-être au prince des honneurs particuliers, mais nous n’en avons rien conservé’ (128). 34 CID IV, 136. On the relationship between the positions of epimeletes and imperial priest see

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All in all, we would like to stress that the existing evidence calls for caution, since the exact date of the appointment cannot be determined with certainty at the moment. As in many other cases, we can only do our best to reconstruct a likely picture with what little evidence we have. In this regard, we believe there are two moments that are the most likely for the creation of the imperial priesthood: the first is, as stated before, the time of the creation of the position of epimeletes, because it fits into the general picture of an innovation orchestrated by Rome – with agreement from the Greek local elites – that was then returned with proofs of good will, loyalty and devotion; one of them being the appointment of a priest. The second moment that seems more in accordance with the evidence and the historical context is the age of Gaius and Claudius, in particular, during the time that P. Memmius Regulus was imperial legate in Moesia and governor of Greece (35–44).35 The actions of Regulus are essential in understanding the origins of federal emperor worship in Achaia.36 For example, this influential Roman was in office during the gatherings of the koinon of the Achaeans and the leagues of Central Greece where allegiance was sworn to Gaius’ regime (IG VII 2711 ll. 5–7). Just as this inscription states, these ceremonies were held in the presence of the governor of the territory, so it is not far-fetched to think that the Roman administrator may have expressed his opinion on the meetings, or may even have been a driving force in them.37 Regulus also found himself involved in Gaius’ ploy to seize the image of

35

36 37

Weir 2004, op.cit. (n. 2), 64, n. 401 who suggested “that it was the imperially-sanctioned chairman of the Amphiktyony, and not the agonothetes, who represented the imperial cult at Delphi”. Kantiréa 2007, op.cit. (n. 2), 193 assessed that “la grand-prêtrise était assumée habituellement par le plus haut fonctionnaire dans la hiérarchie de l’assemblée». See also Camia 2011, op.cit. (n. 2), 167: “Mi sembra comunque che la documentazione a nostra disposizione non permetta di parlare di associazione della carica di epimeleta a quella di sacerdote del culto imperiale”. On Regulus see: PIR2, V, nº 468; Groag 1939, op.cit. (n. 11), 26–30; A. Stein, Die Legaten von Moesien (Budapest 1940), 21–23, and J. H. Oliver, “Lollia Paulina, Memmius Regulus and Caligula”, Hesperia 35 (1966), 150–153, particularly page 150 and note 2. See also: Corinth 8.2, 50 (which includes a list of statues erected in his honour by the province). In a Delphic inscription (SEG 1, 158) Regulus is honoured by the provincials of Achaia after his term as governor of Greece had ended: see JRS 34, 1944, page 116. On Regulus’ involvement in the promotion of emperor worship in Achaia, see: A. J. S. Spawforth, “Corinth, Argos and the imperial cult, pseudo-Julian, Letter 198”, Hesperia 63 (1994), 223. Also see: Lozano 2002, op.cit. (n. 4), 61–62. The reunion of the Achaeans and the leagues of Central Greece presided by Regulus appear in J. H. Oliver, Greek constitutions of early roman emperors from inscriptions and papyri (Philadelphia 1989), no. 18. For the power of the governor as promoter of emperor worship, see the case of Asia in U. Laffi, “Le iscrizioni relative all’introduzione nel 9 a. C. del nuovo calendario della provincial d’Asia”, SCO 16 (1967), 5–98. See now also: F. Lozano, “The creation of Imperial gods: not only imposition versus spontaneity”, in P. P. Iossif, A. S. Chankowski and C. C. Lorber (eds.), More than men, less than gods: studies on royal cult and imperial worship (Leuven 2011), 487–494. On occasions the emperor’s wishes were even ignored, as in the telling example of the Egyptian prefect who refers to Claudius as a god in the publication of the very same letter in which the emperor expressed his wishes not to be awarded divine honours: Oliver ibid., no. 19.

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Zeus in Olympia, an episode in which the governor supported the provincials.38 Everything points to the fact that Regulus was one of the basic pillars of the singular career of the Athenian leader Tiberius Claudius Novius, who held the position of Athenian high priest of the Sebastoi during Nero’s reign.39 Regulus also exercised his patronage over families involved in the Amphictyony. Thus, when the first known imperial priest, Cleander, obtained Roman citizenship, he changed his name to Publius Memmius Cleander. The case of Cleander is not unique, as the influential family of the first known epimeletes, Theocles son of Eudamus, was also among the Achaian clients of Regulus; just like Cleander, Theocles had a sufficiently close relationship with the imperial regime to be acclaimed as a philokaisar. Theocles’ homonymous son, Theocles son of Theocles, took the names of ‘Publius Memmius Theocles’ when he obtained Roman citizenship through the mediation of Regulus. He held the Delphian archonship on three occasions, and was municipal secretary and priest of Apollo. These figures were from families that had come from Nicopolis and were among the earliest notables in Greece to acquire Roman citizenship; doubtless they must have been prominent in the city. The choice of a Roman name was important, as on the one hand it indicated the association of the families with Regulus and on the other, the prominence of this Roman governor in the life of the province.40 This close relationship between Regulus and leading families of the Amphictyony, together with his attested interest in the promotion of the imperial cult in Greece, are the reasons we believe his time as a governor is the second likely moment for the creation of the post of imperial priest that was to be held by the epimeletes. 38

The episode of the Zeus of Olympia in Flavius Josephus, Antiquitates Judaicae 19.8–10. Regulus risked his life by disobeying Gaius and not sending the statue to Rome. According to Josephus the governor’s refusal was due to the marvels that surrounded the entire episode and the possibility that the statue might break when being prepared for dispatch to the capital. This is another piece of information that proves the importance of this figure in the Julio-Claudian period: Tacitus, Annales 14.47. For Gaius and Regulus, see: Oliver 1966, op.cit. (n. 35). 39 Novius dedicated a statue to Regulus (IG II2 4174) in the year he first occupied the Athenian strategy. Regulus was also a patron of the family of Novius’s wife, Demostenia, who was from Sparta: Spawforth 1994, op.cit. (n. 36), 236–237. Novius’s wife in Inscr. Délos 1629. On Novius see for convenience: F. Lozano, “La promoción social a través del culto a los emperadores: el caso de Tiberio Claudio Novio en Atenas”, Habis 38 (2007), 185–204. 40 On the relationship between Regulus and these two families who had settled in Delphi, but were originally Nicopolitan, see: Pouilloux 1980, op.cit. (n. 2), 284–285. Publius Memmius Theocles’s father, Theocles, is referred to as a philokaisar in Delph. 3, 1, 174. For these two figures see: Pouilloux 1980, op.cit. (n. 2), 283–285. P. Memmius Cleander was duovir quinquennalis of Corinth during Nero’s visit to the city; see: Corinth 8.2, page 31. The importance of Regulus in the province is clearly attested by the number of Greeks who took on his name when obtaining Roman citizenship; on this subject see: Corinth 8.2, page 30, and A. J. Spawforth, “Families at Roman Sparta and Epidaurus: Some Prosopographical Notes”, ABSA 80 (1985), 191–258. On the study and identification of provincial clientelae, we found especially interesting: F. Pina Polo, “Les guerres de conquête en Hispanie et l’acquisition de clientèles provinciales”, in F. Cadiou and M. Navarro Caballero (eds.), La Guerre et ses traces. Conflits et sociétés en Hispanie à l’époque de la conquête romaine (IIIe-Ier s. a. C.) (Bordeaux 2014) 443–456.

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2. TRANSFORMATIONS OF EMPEROR WORSHIP IN THE SECOND CENTURY AD. After the Principate of Domitian, information on the priesthood and festivals of the imperial cult at Delphi becomes even scarcer. The first institution that must be taken into consideration is the newly created title of helladarches of the Amphictyons, which appeared around the same time of the helladarches of the Achaean League.41 It seems that these new titles did not supersede existing positions in their leagues, since the strategos of the Achaean koinon and the epimeletes of the Amphictyony continued to exist.42 The creation of both helladarches from the Roman province of Achaia is usually seen as having been inspired by the emperor Hadrian: “He intended to make the new Amphictyony a northern league complementary to the southern, ‘Achaean’ one”.43 Only three officials in the Amphictyony have been clearly identified so far: Titus Flavius Eubiotos, Titus Statilius Timocrates Memmianus and Tiberius Claudius Marcellus.44 This position has been interpreted, rightly in our opinion, as similar to the chief magistracies of other leagues such as the asiarches, macedoniarches, pontarches, lyciarches, cretarches, boeotarches, etc.45 We know little about the helladarches of the Amphictyons, so most of what we write about this position is based on what we know about titles similar to those mentioned previously. For example, since the parallel title of helladarches of the Achaean League was a position held for life it has been suggested that the same tenure applied to the Amphictyonic one.46 Equally, since the asiarches is thought to have had judicial powers, Oliver suggested that the helladarches probably had the same prerogative.47 The chief magistrates of surrounding leagues were also in charge of, or at least connected with, the imperial cult. So, by comparison, it could be inferred that the same held true for the helladarches of the Amphictyons. Lefèvre seems to contemplate this possibility.48 We also find this possibility attractive. In contrast, Sánchez strongly denies this reconstruction, firstly because he believes that the Amphictyony never organised imperial cult, and secondly because the helladarches of the 41 42 43 44

45 46 47 48

On the helladarches, see: J. Oliver, “The Helladarch”, RSA 8 (1978), 1–6. For the helladarches of the Amphictyony, see: Lefèvre 1998, op.cit. (n. 2), 132–133, and Sánchez 2001, op.cit. (n. 2), 441–442. For the helladarches of the Achaean League, see: Puech 1983, op.cit. (n. 8). Lefèvre 1998, op.cit. (n. 2), 133 and Sánchez 2001, op.cit. (n. 2), 442. C. P. Jones, “A letter of Hadrian to Naryka (Eastern Locris)”, JRA 19 (2006), 151–162: 154. Themelis favours a Trajan date for the creation of this office: SEG LII, 380. See, in general: Lefèvre 1998, op.cit. (n. 2), 133 and Sánchez 2001, op.cit. (n. 2), 441. Titus Flavius Eubiotos: IG IX, 2, 44; Titus Statilius Timocrates Memmianus: IG IV, 590, and Tiberius Claudius Marcellus: CID IV, 161. Titus Aelius Geminius Macedo might be a fourth official, see: Sánchez 2001, op.cit. (n. 2), 441, note 62 and Puech 1983, op.cit. (n. 8), 23–24 and 34, note 75. On these positions see for convenience the general account in Burrell 2004, op.cit. (n. 27), 346–349 with bibliography. Lefèvre 1998, op.cit. (n. 2), 133 and Sánchez 2001, op.cit. (n. 2), 441. Oliver 1978, op.cit. (n. 41) and Puech 1983, op.cit. (n. 8). Against this reconstruction: Sánchez 2001, op.cit. (n. 2), 442 and 457–458. Lefèvre 1998, op.cit. (n. 2), 133.

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Amphictyons is not connected with the imperial priesthood, contrary to the usual procedure with the helladarches of the Achaean League.49 Unfortunately, the nature of the preserved testimonies makes it impossible at the moment to be conclusive on this matter. Together with that of helladarches, there is another position that must be taken into consideration, namely the ‘high priest and agonothetes of the Sebastan Gods for the two crowns’ (IG IX, 2, 44). This anomalous institution is only known by two inscriptions dated to the reigns of Trajan and Hadrian and it presents serious problems of interpretation, particularly on the identification of the location where the occupants held their religious posts. This position has usually been assigned to the city of Hypata.50 The relationship between the ruling power and this polis, that was called Sebastea (D. C. 44.23; IG IX, 2, 40), started early in the Principate. Augustus was called Soter (IG IX, 2, 93). The city also had a priest of the imperial cult (IG IX, 2, 34) and instituted a cult for Roma and the Sebastoi (IG IX, 2, 32). Despite the devotion of the city of Hypata to the emperors, this study presents arguments supporting the amphictyonic origin of this new institution. Our conclusion is based on epigraphic arguments provided by the revision of the inscriptions featuring the priesthood, as well as historical arguments, given that this high priesthood can be placed in relation to the historical evolution of the Amphictyony itself.51 The first of the two officiants is Lucius Cassius Petraeus who holds the title of ‘high priest for the two crowns’: Λ. Κάσσιον Πετραῖον,| τὸν ἀρχιερέα ἐπὶ τοῖς| δυσὶν στεφάνοις καὶ δὶς| ἀγωνοθέτην τῶν μεγά|λων Πυθίων καὶ σύνδι|[κ]ον τοῦ Πυθίου, ό ἱερὸς| παῖς Γν. Βάββιος Μάξι|[μο]ς, Μάγνου υἱός, ᾽Απόλ|[λω]νι Πυθίῳ ἐκ τῶν ἰδί|[ω]ν τὸν ἴδιον φίλον. The ‘sacred boy’52 Gnaeus Babbius Maximus, son of Magnus, [dedicated to Pythian Apollo a statue of his friend], Lucius Cassius Petraeus, high priest for the two crowns53 and twice agonothetes of the Great Pythian Games and syndikos of the Pythian (God).54

The second inscription, which includes the title under discussion, was found in the city of Hypata in Thessaly. The inscription can be dated quite accurately to the time of Hadrian: 49 Sánchez 2001, op.cit. (n. 2), 442. 50 Bourguet 1905, op.cit. (n. 2), 53. 51 See in particular: Cortés Copete, op.cit. (n. 4), 101–102. For the imperial cult in Hypata see: Camia 2011, op.cit. (n. 2), 157–162. 52 For this priesthood, see: CID IV, 155 (same Babbius); K. Clinton, The Sacred Officials of the Eleusinian Mysteries (Philadelphia 1974) 112 and S. Follet, Athènes au IIº et au IIIº Siècle (Paris 1976), 273. 53 For the use of the clause epi and the translation derived from it, see: Pouilloux 1980, op.cit. (n. 2), no. 49. The name of the priesthood could refer to the need to provide two crowns, or their price in cash; cf. for convenience, Spawforth 1985, op.cit. (n. 36), 194. A parallel in the Demosthenia of Oinoanda: ‘[Demosthenes] promised he would use his money to prepare and offer the city a golden crown with images depicting the faces of the emperors Nerva, Trajan, Hadrian, Augustus Caesar and of our god Apollo. This crown shall be worn by the agonothetes’, M. Wörrle, Stadt und Fest im kaiserzeitlichen Kleinasien. Studien zu einer agonistischen Stiftung aus Oinoanda (Munich 1988), 10, lines 52–53. 54 SIG3 825C. Petraeus also appears in SIG3 825A and 825B; these are two statues erected in honour of Trajan.

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[῾H] πόλις ῾Υπάτα| Τ(ίτον) Φλαούϊον| Τ(ίτου) Φλαουϊου Κύλ|λου οἱὸν Εὐβίoτον| τὸν ἀρχιερέα [κ]αὶ ἀγωνθέτην τῶν Σεβαστῶν| Θεῶν ἐπὶ τοῖς δύο στεφά[νοις καὶ ἀγω] ν̣ οθέτην| τῶν μεγάλων Πυθίων καὶ ἐπιμελητὴν| τοῦ κοινοῦ τῶν Ἀμφικτυόνων καὶ| ἑλλαδάρχην τὸν εὐεργέτην| vac.| ἐπιμεληθέντος Βρί[ου?] τ̣ [ο] ᾽Αλ[εξ]άν|δρου τοῦ ταμίου κατὰ τὸ τοῦ δή|μου ψήφισμα. The polis of Hypata [erected a statue of] its benefactor Titus Flavius Eubiotus, son of Titus Flavius Cyllus, high priest and agonothetes of the Sebastan gods for the two crowns, and agonothetes of the Great Pythian Games and epimeletes of the koinon of the Amphictyons and helladarches. Bri[…], son of Alexander, the treasurer, was supervisor according to the decree of the Demos.55

This second inscription presents a longer version of the title under discussion, but it is usually agreed that both Petraeus and Eubiotus were in charge of the same position, the first being just a shorter denomination. As was mentioned earlier, most researchers support that this position was from the city of Hypata in Thessaly and not from the Amphictyony. Their opinion is based mainly in the fact that this last inscription, IG IX, 2, 44, was found in Hypata and dedicated by the demos of that city.56 We would like to propose, however, a new reassessment of this inscription that do not support such a strong negation of the Delphic provenance of the priesthood given that, as stated by Larsen, the text does not mention any civic magistracy: ‘It seems it was mainly for his services and panhellenic dignities that he was honoured by his fellow citizens’.57 Despite this comment, the same author accepts Bourguet’s suggestion that the office was civic. Pouilloux is warier of this fact and states that nothing assures us in the text that the position was held in Delphi. In his opinion, the priesthood might have been from Hypata, or maybe from both places at once.58 It is necessary to return to Larsen’s commentary and interpret this last inscription accordingly. All the titles of the person in question for which we know for certain the origin refer to the sanctuary of Delphi (‘agonothetes of the Great Pythian Games and epimeletes of the koinon of the Amphictyons and helladarches’). However, it is often held that the inscription first refers to the supposedly civic priesthood of Hypata (‘high priest and agonothetes for the Sebastan gods for the two crowns’), since the official was from this city and the inscription was dedicated by the demos. This is obviously possible and since Eubiotus is honoured as a (civic) evergetes the inscription could be interpreted as providing the context for the action 55 IG IX, 2, 44. 56 The priesthood is from Hypata in Bourguet 1905, op.cit. (n. 2), 53. An opinion followed by the majority of authors: F. Geiger, De sacerdotibus Augustorum municipalis (Le Halle 1913), 116, and SIG3 825C, n. 4. See also: J. A. O. Larsen, “A Thessalian Family under the Principate”, CPh 48 (1953), 86–95: 90, Puech 1983, op.cit. (n. 8), no. 40 and B. Puech, “Prosopographie des amis de Plutarque”, ANRW 33.6 (1992), 4831–4893: 4847, and Sánchez 2001, op.cit. (n. 2), 442. Most recently: Camia 2011, op.cit. (n. 2), 157–158. This priesthood is considered from the Thessalian League by J. Bousquet, “Inscriptions de Delphes”, BCH 85 (1961), 90–92 and F. Burrer, Münzprägung und Geschichte des thessalischen Bundes in der römischen Kaiserzeit bis auf Hadrian (31 v. Chr. – 138 n. Chr.) (Saarbrücker 1993), 18–20. 57 Larsen 1953, op.cit. (n. 56), 90. 58 Pouilloux 1980, op.cit. (n. 2), no. 49.

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and thus stating firstly the civic position. The dignities are clearly organized from lesser to greater importance and, as Larsen stated59, this is in accordance with the usual hierarchy of dignities that citizens could access in Thessaly: positions in cities and municipalities of the league of Thessaly, panhellenic dignities and positions in the Empire.60 However, the author goes on to state that when a greater dignity was obtained the lower honours were usually disdained or rejected;61 therefore the mention of the high priesthood of the city is not all that common in its epigraphic context. Admittedly, then, IG IX, 2, 44 is not conclusive in itself. In spite of this, a clue to understanding this inscription lies in the comparison with SIG3 825C, which also mentions an eminent figure from Hypata as ‘high priest for the two crowns’. In SIG3 825C Lucius Cassius Petraeus is honoured by a figure from Delphi (‘the hieros païs Gnaeus Babbius Maximus, son of Magnus’). The securely identifiable positions that are mentioned in the inscription are all Amphictyonic: ‘Twice agonothetes of the Great Pythian Games and syndikos of the Pythian (God)’. In addition, the inscription was found in the Delphic sanctuary. The organization of the positions of Petraeus is similar to that of Titus Flavius Eubiotus, with his high priesthood mentioned first. However, in the case of Petraeus it seems more plausible, in our opinion, to support that the post belonged to the Amphictyony, since the location of the inscription, the rest of the titles of Petraeus and the titles of the person making the dedication are all from the league. Therefore, we propose that both these figures, Lucius Cassius Petraeus and Titus Flavius Eubiotus, are considered as agonothetes of an imperial festival organised by the Amphictyony, while holding the post of high priest of the Sebastoi in that League. If this new reconstruction is accepted, it leaves a picture of five known priests of imperial cult in the Amphictyony.62 Following the suggestion of the amphictyonic origin of the high priesthood and the agonothesia, we would like to present a possible explanation for the use of such an unusual and anomalous title. The answer is based on a study by Cortés Copete on the involvement of Hadrian in Delphi.63 This work suggests that from the reign of Domitian, the Thessalian epimeletai, who had mostly come from Hypata, sought to give prestige to the second, Thessalian, base of the confederacy at Pylae. This action was in accordance with the recovery of control over the Amphictyony by the Thessalians; they had lost this control at the hands of the Nicopolitans in the time of Augustus but had recovered it during the first century AD. The scarcity of evidence makes it hard to gain detailed knowledge on the stages of the process by which the Thessalians regained control of the league, but by the time of Nero, the Thessalians were able to send 12 representatives. Neither is it known whether the league was recomposed by increasing the traditional number of representatives 59 60 61 62

Larsen 1953, op.cit. (n. 56), 91–92. Larsen 1953, op.cit. (n. 56), 91–92. Larsen 1953, op.cit. (n. 56), 92. On the relationship between the imperial priest and the epimeletes see, see supra n. 34. See for convenience the aforementioned table 7 in Lefèvre 1998, op.cit. (n. 2). 63 Cortés Copete 1999, op.cit. (n. 4). On the organisation of the Pythian games during the Empire, see: Sánchez 2001, op.cit. (n. 2), 450–453 and Weir 2004, op.cit. (n. 2), 49–76.

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from 24 – circa 170 AD Pausanias described the league as having 30 – or thanks to a redistribution of the existing positions.64 In their zeal to provide prestige to the sanctuary of Pylae the Thessalians organised an additional festival, which would have included emperor worship celebrations, within the Pythian games. This festival was to be celebrated after the solemnities in Delphi and it had the same agonothetes. The winner of both games would be awarded the double crown that was only valid if obtained consecutively in both sanctuaries.65 The creation of these festivals also coincided with the architectural development and expansion of the religious centre at Pylae.66 The existence of this festival is known thanks to the correspondence between Hadrian and the Delphians (esp. Delph. 3, 4, 302 =CID IV, 152), where the inhabitants of the city complained to the emperor of the abuse received from the Thessalians, who were awarding Pythian victory crowns to the winners of the second competitions celebrated in Pylae: Εἴ τις ἢ ἐκκλήτου γενομ[έν]ης ἢ ἄλλως ἐν Πυλαίᾳ ἐσ|τε̣ [φ]άνωται, ἄκυρος ὁ ἀγὼν ἔστω κα[ὶ] τῷ νεικήσαντι λελύσθω| ἡ [ν]είκη. If anyone has received a crown in Pylae, in contest or any other way, let the competition be declared null and the victor stripped of his victory67.

The correct procedure to win the double crown that gave name to the post of agonothetes was that of winning consecutively in both places. Only if we admit this supposition do we make sense of the possibility of the emperor’s offer to the winners crowned in Pylae to judicially reclaim their crown if they had previously competed and won in Delphi: Εἰ δ᾽ ἀντιποιοῖτο τοῦ στ[ε]φάνου εἰς Δελφοùς ἐλθὼν| π[ρ]ότερον καὶ ἀγωνισάμενος παρ᾽ αὐτῷ τῷ θεῷ, στεφανοῦσ|[θαι κ]ε̣λ̣ εύω καὶ τὸ ἐπιδέκατο[ν] τῶν τειμημάτων ὃ οἱ δικαζό|[μενοι παρατέθειν]ται Θεσσαλο[ὺ]ς ἀποδοῦναι τῷ θεῷ. But if anyone should claim the crown [obtained in Pylae] because he formerly was in Delphi and competed before the god himself, I order them to be crowned and that the Thessalians offer the god a tenth of the sureties offered by the litigants.68

A case analogous to the one proposed for the Pythian games can be found in the way in which imperial festivals were organized in Corinth. Thus, when the city regained the right to organise the Isthmian games, these were held in installations situated in the city itself, at least until the rule of Nero. During the reign of the last of the Julio-Claudians, the sanctuary on the Isthmus was restored so that the festi64 On the composition of the league at this time, see especially: Lefèvre 1998, op.cit. (n. 2), 129–132 and CID IV, p. 466. See also: Sánchez 2001, op.cit. (n. 2), 432–436. 65 See: Cortés Copete 1999, op.cit. (n. 4), 100–103. 66 On the enrichment of the sanctuary of Pylae: Plut. De Pythiae oraculis 409 A. 67 Delph. 3, 4, 302 (= CID IV, 152), col. II, ll. 6–8. See also the previous letter of Domitian to the Amphictyony: CID IV, 142. 68 Delph. 3, 4, 302 (= CID IV, 152), col. II, ll. 8–11. I follow here the interpretation provided by Oliver 1989, op.cit. (n. 37), no. 75, which differs from the one defended by Plassart; for the sake of convenience see the commentary to the text in CID IV, 152, and Sánchez 2001, op.cit. (n. 2) 451–452.

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vals could return to the place where they had traditionally been celebrated. However, the festivals devoted to the founder of the colony, the Caesarea, which later would also be dedicated to the ruling emperor, continued to be held in Corinth immediately following the end of the Isthmic Games. Both festivals had the same agonothetes.69 There is no indication that these double festivals held by the Amphictyony survived the reign of Hadrian, although it is true that there is a notable scarcity of sources for this period, and, as stated by Robert, it should not be ruled out that the Pythians may have incorporated rituals and competitions of imperial cult, the presence of which did not alter the usual denomination of the festivals.70 As a working hypothesis, it could be argued that the emperor’s involvement in putting a stop to Thessalian excesses implied a return to the previous situation where the imperial games were inserted into past traditional celebrations, without the extraordinary expansion of the competitions at Pylae. Nor has any subsequent mention been found of imperial priesthoods or festivals, either of the two crowns or in the more usual nomenclature. The only possible exception is Weir’s suggestion in his study on Delphi in Roman times, according to which Antoninus Pius promoted the introduction of games honouring Hadrian within the Pythian cycle.71 His argument, attractive as it is, is based on a long letter from the emperor to the confederacy and the city of Delphi, which is in too fragmentary a state to support or refute the proposal.72 Equally unclear is the final point that we would like to assess regarding emperor worship in the Delphic Amphictyony; namely, the identification of cult places devoted to the imperial cult. We have focused on priesthood and festivals and it seems only fitting to end this analysis of the Amphictyony exploring where these religious activities were carried out. Once again, however, very little can be said with certainty at the present state of research, because we are simply unable to discern whether the League consecrated an altar, a temple, or a shrine to the cult of the emperors.73 69

See: E. R. Gebhard, “The Isthmian Games and the Sanctuary of Poseidon in the Early Empire”, in T. E. Gregory (ed.), The Corinthia in the Roman Period (Ann Arbor 1993), 78–94: 87–89. 70 Robert in AEph. 1969, 57 (=OMS VII, 763). 71 Weir 2004, op.cit. (n. 2), 173–174. 72 The inscription was first published in Bourguet 1905, op.cit. (n. 2), 89. Weir’s opinion is based on his reconstruction of l. 23. Our caution is mainly owed to the comment by Lefèvre which accompanies CID IV, 152bis. The French author interprets l. 23 as a possible reference to the measures taken by Hadrian for the celebrations. On the other hand, Weir appears to be ignorant of Lefèvre’s opinion, as he does not mention it in his comment on the inscription. See now also: Camia 2011, op.cit. (n. 2), 128–129. 73 See now: Kantiréa 2007, op.cit. (n. 2), 153–156 and Camia 2011, op.cit. (n. 2), 226–227. The Plataean synhedrion erected an altar to Hadrian in Delphi: SIG3 835A. On this Greek meeting, see: R. Étienne and M. Piérart, “Un décret du koinon des Hellènes à Platées en l’honneur de Glaucon, fils d’Etéoclès, d’Athènes”, BCH 99 (1975), 51–75; and N. Robertson, “A point of precedent at Plataia. The dispute between Athens and Sparta over leading the procession”, Hesperia 55 (1986), 88–102. For Plataea: L. Prandi, Platea. Momenti e problemi della storia di una polis (Padova 1988).

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The only information worthy of mention is Pausanias’ description of Delphi. During his trip around Greece the periegete does not usually mention Roman buildings or actions; he focuses particularly on the older legends and the archaic and classical periods. Nevertheless, at the start of his description of the sanctuary of Apollo the author clearly states: ἐσελθόντι δὲ ἐς τὴν πόλιν εἰσὶν ἐφεξῆς ναοί· καὶ ὁ μὲν πρῶτος αὐτῶν ἐρείπια ἦν, ὁ ἐπὶ τούτῳ δὲ κενὸς καὶ ἀγαλμάτων καὶ ἀνδριάντων· ὁ δὲ αὐτῶν τρίτος καὶ ὁ τέταρτος, ὁ μὲν τῶν ἐν Ῥώμῃ βασιλευσάντων εἶχεν οὐ πολλῶν τινῶν εἰκόνας, ὁ τέταρτος δὲ Ἀθηνᾶς καλεῖται Προνοίας. Upon entering the city several temples can be seen in a row. The first was in ruins, and the next had no images or statues. In the third there were representations of various Roman emperors, and the fourth is known as Athenea Pronoia.74

Sánchez in his work on the Amphictyony does not think the text conclusive: ‘Pausanias dit avoir vu des statues d’empereurs romains à Marmaria, mais cela ne suffit pas à prouver l’existence d’un culte official’.75 Kantiréa, however, assessed that “nous pourrions supposer, en appliquant le modèle du Métrôon d’Olympie, qu’elle ait été consacrée à Auguste sauveur et que, dans la suite, elle ait abrité le culte dynastique de sa famille”.76 She also proposed an attractive historical reconstruction of the use of this imperial precinct. She suggested that βασιλευσάντων applied by Pausanias to the roman emperors “implique qu’au milieu du IIe s. apr. J.-C. le culte impérial était tombé en désuétude”.77 On the other hand, it is difficult to identify the monument, given that the periegete mentioned four buildings while archaeological excavations have uncovered five: the tuffa temple, the Doric temple, the Etolic temple, the tholos and the limestone temple (mentioned from East to West). The lack of concordance between Pausanias’ text and the archaeological remains has led to a great diversity of ascriptions.78 One of the more appealing reconstructions is the one formulated by Roux 74 75

Pausanias, 10.8.6. Sánchez 2001, op.cit. (n. 2), 442. For information on Marmaria, see recently: Bommelaer 1991, op.cit. (n. 22), 47–71, and Bommelaer, Marmaria. Le sanctuaire d’Athéna à Delphes (Paris 1997), with a modern computerised treatment and figured reconstruction of the site. The classic work on the sanctuary of Athenea Pronoia is Delph. 2, 1–3. 76 Kantiréa 2007, op.cit. (n. 2), 156. Camia 2011, op.cit. (n. 2), 226–227 indicated that “la presenza di statue imperiali all’interno di un tempio non è garanzia di un culto degli imperatori”. 77 Kantiréa 2007, op.cit. (n. 2), 154. She also proposed that the temple was restored during Domitian’s reign and dedicated to him. 78 The discussion on the lack of coherence between Pausanias and the archaeological record is widely covered by C. Le Roy, “Pausanias à Marmaria”, Études Delphiques (1977), 247–271, which also includes the preceding bibliography; cf. G. Daux, Pausanias à Delphes (Paris 1936), 59–71. The examples of occasions when Pausanias does not mention classic monuments despite their size or central nature in city life are many. See the explanation provided by S. Alcock, “Landscapes of Memory and the Authority of Pausanias”, Pausanias Historien (Genève 1996), 241–267, and K. W. Arafat, Pausanias’ Greece. Ancient Artists and Roman rulers (Cambridge 1996), particularly 123. On Pausanias see also: S. E. Alcock, J. F. Cherry, and J. Elsner, Pausanias. Travel and Memory in Roman Greece (Oxford 2001), and W. Hutton,

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where he identifies the building mentioned by Pausanias with the majestic and elegant Delphic tholos.79 If we accept his view it would be a new imperial temple with this particular shape, as in Achaia there are at least two more rounded buildings dedicated to the imperial cult: the one devoted to Augustus and Rome in the Athenian Acropolis and the archaic tholos of Elis.80 Daux also attaches to the imperial cult an altar from the first century AD found in the area and which represents several young girls hanging bands from a thick garland.81 To this location in Delphi we must add other possible sites in Pylae, which, as mentioned earlier, was another place where the Amphictyons may have gathered to honour the Caesars. 3. CONCLUSION As has been pointed out throughout this paper, the scarcity of preserved material determines all assessment on the way imperial cult was developed and organised in the Amphictyony of Pylae and Delphi. As a result, any interpretation is far from conclusive, and is conditioned by the appearance of new information. However, we have suggested that the best explanation is in keeping with the limitations of the sources without denying all substantial arguments in favour of the organization of imperial cult by the Amphictyony. In addition, this reconstruction brings the religious practices of the League closer to the cultural and historic context of Roman Achaia where imperial cult became an almost ubiquitous element. The Amphictyony appointed a priest devoted to the cult of the emperors who enjoyed an excellent situation and who, at least in known cases, belonged to the most relevant families of the union. The time of the creation of the priesthood is not known. We have suggested two most likely dates: the reign of Augustus, linked with the creation of the post of epimeletes, or the period when P. Memmius Regulus was governor of Greece. However, the first mention of the priesthood dates to the reign of Nero. Along with the imperial priesthood, the Amphictyony probably orDescribing Greece. Landscape and Literature in the Periegesis of Pausanias (Cambridge 2005). 79 For the tholos as a temple of imperial cult, see: G. Roux, Delphes son oracle et ses dieux (Paris 1976), 206–207. Also see: R. Trummer, Die Denkmäler des Kaiserkults in der römischen Provinz Achaia (Graz 1980) 36–38. Kantiréa 2007, op.cit. (n. 2), 153–156 and Camia 2011, op.cit. (n. 2), 226–227 also support this reconstuction. 80 The rounded temple in the Athenian Acropolis has been the object of many studies, see: W. Binder, Der Roma-Augustus Monopteros auf der Akropolis in Athen und sein typologischer Ort (Stuttgart 1969), 190–191; J. Travlos, Pictorical Dictionary of Ancient Athens (New York 1971) 494–497; P. Baldassarri, “Augusto Soter: ipotesi sul monopteros dell’Acropoli ateniense”, Ostraka 4 (1995), 69–84: 70–71; Hoff (1996) 188, and P. Baldassarri, ΣΕΒΑΣΤΟΙ ΣΟΤΗΡΙ. Edilizia monumentale ad Atene durante il Saeculum Augustum (Rome 1998), 45– 63. The inscription on the epistyle of the monument is IG II2 3173. The temple of Elis is mentioned in Pausanias 6.24.10 (note, however, that Pausanias does not mention the rounded temple consecrated to Rome and Augustus when he describes the Acropolis: Pausanias 1.22.4– 28.3). 81 See the assessment of Roux’s conclusion in Le Roy 1977, op.cit. (n. 78), 258.

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ganised rituals of emperor worship, which were later expanded due to the efforts of Thessalian families to provide greater splendour to Pylae within the league. This reconstruction helps to explain the unusual title of ‘high priest and agonothetes for the Sebastan gods for the two crowns’. The second century AD also witnessed a new change in the League; the creation of the post of helladarches, a position whose functions are difficult to assess but that might be related to the imperial cult following the model provided by surrounding leagues. This question, however, is clearly open to debate. And, if we accept the information transmitted by Pausanias, the Amphictyony also had a site for emperor worship in Delphi. In short, the assembling of all information regarding emperor worship in the League allows us to provide a new proposal on it which, despite the documental gaps, point to an active worship that fitted into the usual evolution of imperial rituals in Achaia, in the charge of major figures of distinguished lineage. The Amphictyony was no exception in terms of emperor worship, but constitutes another example of the inclusion of the new gods of power in prestigious institutions of the Greek past.

GREEK ARCHAEOLOGISTS AT ROME1 Greg Woolf 1. ARCHAEOLOGY COMES TO ROME This paper concerns a cultural moment, the point at which the City of Rome moved, as it were, from being the subject of ethnographic and antiquarian investigation, to one of the main centres of such research. The movements of scholars to Rome in the last half-century of the Republic is an old story, well told on a number of occasions. But the links between this enterprise and Roman imperialism in the west remain to be explored. What this paper offers are some suggestions about the respective roles of Greek intellectuals, Roman aristocrats and western provincials in this process, and some observations on the context of this activity. I begin with Diodoros of Sicily, explaining what it was that had brought him to Rome. After he had decided to write a history of the entire world, from the earliest times to the present day, and had realised what an immense project this would be, he travelled widely in Asia and Europe visiting the locations of key historical events, and spent in total thirty years in research. As for the resources on which I depended in this labour, they were first of all that enthusiasm which enables anyone to bring to completion a task which seems impossible, and secondly the great supply of materials relevant to this study which is provided by the city of Rome. For the supremacy of this city, a supremacy so powerful that it extends to the bounds of the inhabited world, has provided me in the course of my long residence there with many resources in the most accessible form. For I am a native of the city of Argyrium in Sicily and since through mixing with the Romans in that island, I had acquired a special familiarity with their language, I was able to acquire an accurate knowledge of all the events of the empire from the records (hypomnemeta) which have been carefully preserved by them over a long period of time. I have set the start of my history with the myths of Greeks and Barbarians, after examining to the best of my ability the records each people keeps of ancient times (archaious chronous)2.

There is much one might say about Diodoros’ self-representation on the basis of this passage. The affairs of Greeks and Barbarians point back to Herodotos and Thucydides, and his insistence on the importance of autopsy to correct the errors of his predecessors recalls Polybios. The preceding passage on the strengths and limitations of earlier historians (coupled with the claim that his work was on a greater 1

2

I am grateful to the comments of all those at the Seville colloquium and to a seminar audience at Oxford. This paper also owes a good deal to discussions with Dan Hogg. Some of the ideas first presented here were subsequently developed in G. Woolf Tales of the Barbarians. Ethnography and Empire in the Roman West. (Malden and Oxford 2011). Diodoros 1.4.2–5 (adapted from Loeb translation).

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scale that any of theirs, and more useful too) marks him as thoroughly Hellenistic. As for the genre, Pliny confirms that the work was entitled a Bibliotheke – a library – perhaps relating to Diodoros’ claim that part of its utility was to save the reader the trouble of hunting in a number of other separate works. But he also uses the term historie and its cognates, and presented his work as a Common (Koine) History, a term which we today translate as Universal History3. Less conventionally, Diodoros makes explicit the link between a Common History and mankind’s common humanity, expressed in a world of peoples bound together by kinship (suggeneia). For the opening books of the Bibliotheke, he depends on the mythologoumena of Greeks and Barbarians. This is a greater part of his design than it was for Herodotos, since the first six books were dedicated to Egyptian, Assyrian, Indian, Ethiopian logoi, to the Greek myths and to the origins of the peoples of the west. After book six the narrative is more conventionally hellenocentric from the Trojan War to Alexander and then tracks the history of the Hellenistic world and its absorption by Rome up to the eve of Caesar’s Gallic War. The conventional term for the kind of investigations pursued in the first six books (alluded to in Diodoros’ reference to archaious chronous here and in the preface to book 2) was archaeologia, archaeology, hence the title of this paper4. I use the term “archaeologist” deliberately and despite its modern usage, because the connotations of “antiquarian” are even more misleading. The term “historian” is both too broad and too narrow. Too broad because we use it for those who wrote accounts of very recent, even contemporary events – Thucydides and Caesar for example – while those who practiced archaeologia always had a strong interest in ta archaia, in the ancient times of the deep past, accessible only through myth supplemented by learned conjecture. And “historian” is too narrow, because their work included subjects we regard today as the province of ethnography, religious studies, even comparative philology. Archaeological investigations, in this sense, appear in all sorts of works. The attempt to define genre has been largely fruitless. Attempts to create a taxonomy of historical writing have turned out to be at best a limited convenience, at worst quite misleading5. What united this research was a set of shared preoccupations coupled with some broad agreement (and narrow disagreements) on how to answer them. Behind the interests of the small number of individuals who researched and composed archaeological texts lay a much wider interest in the “origines gentium”, the origins of peoples. By wider I mean that in important respects, what seem to us to be slightly implausible stories found gathered in recondite compilatory texts, like 3 4 5

K. Clarke, “Universal Perspectives in Historiography”, in C. S. Kraus (ed.), The Limits of Historiography. Genre and narrative in ancient historical texts (Leiden, Boston & Köln 1999). E. Bickermann, “Origines Gentium”, Classical Philology 47 (1952), 65–81. F. Jacoby, Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker. 15 vols (Berlin and Leiden, 1923–1958) provides a guide through the maze but the organizing principles he and his continuators employ correspond only in part with native categories, about which there may have been little consensus. Arguably the absence of specific performative contexts for most scientific writing and its uncertain location in educational syllabuses allowed a great deal of flexibility to ancient authors. For some recent comment see K. Clarke, Making time for the past. Local history and the polis (Oxford 2008), 174–5.

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that of Diodoros, were of genuine significance to the citizens as well as the elites, of ancient cities6. Foundation stories, legends of migration and accounts of kinship between peoples now widely separated in space were key planks of ancient identities long before the Hellenistic period7. That interest depended on the special values placed on both descent and antiquity in the traditional societies of the ancient world, and on a familiar tactic through which the movements and acts of key individuals – heroes, kings, founders, ancestors – were made to stand proxy for the history of entire peoples who claimed them. This wide lay-belief in the importance of origins, directed and supported research into them and helps explain the presence of archaeological material in a wide range of literary works. Most of the writing that emerged from this activity was in prose rather than verse. It naturally had much in common with other kinds of historical writing. But it also touched on medical, geographical and ethical sciences, and might appear in miscellanistic writing, in sympotica and more rarely in any form of verse from lyric odes to epic and satire. It was, in origin, a quintessentially Greek science. We usually trace it back to Herodotos and behind him Hekataios of Miletos. But a good case has been made for this kind of genealogical thinking in the Hesiodic corpus8, while Diodoros and Strabo themselves represented their archaeological investigations as unproblematically standing in a tradition that began with Homer. By their day, however, it had in practice become a more circumscribed intellectual field, one in which explanatory paradigms as well as particular versions competed and some conventions had begun to emerge about what should or not be included in ethnographic accounts, and how they should be organised. Never a self-standing discipline like medicine or mathematics, archaeology had a place alongside geographical, sociological, political, ethical and historical researches into more recent epochs9. Diodoros provided my starting point because in his work we can see not only the lines of these ancient traditions but also a new departure, the notion of Rome as a good place to conduct research. Rome had featured as an object of archaeological speculation since perhaps Aristotle, and certainly since Timaios writing in Athens in the early third century10. But the idea that Rome was a superior place to study, let alone that a good knowledge of Latin made accessible a mass of previously unexplored source material, is without precedent in extant texts. As ethnographers might 6 7 8 9 10

P. Veyne, Did the Greeks believe in their myths? An essay in the constitutive imagination. Translated by P. Wissing (Chicago 1988). E. Dench, Romulus’Asylum. Roman Identities from the Age of Alexander to the age of Hadrian (Oxford 2005); Ch. P. Jones, Kinship diplomacy in the Ancient world (Cambridge 1999). R. L. Fowler, “Genealogical thinking, Hesiod’s Catalogue, and the creation of the Hellenes”, Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society 44 (1998), 1–19; J. M. Hall, Ethnic identity in Greek antiquity (Cambridge 1997). K. Clarke, Between Geography and History. Hellenistic Constructions of the Roman world (Oxford 1999). A. Momigliano, “Athens in the third century BC and the discovery of Rome in the Histories of Timaeus of Tauromenium”, in A. Momigliano (ed.), Essays in Ancient and Modern Historiography (Oxford 1959), 529–56.

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put it today, Rome was no longer simply a place to do fieldwork, but had become part of the academy11. When did this change take place? Inevitably, there is mild controversy over which thirty year period Diodoros means and the dates of his residence in Rome, but the broad outline is clear enough. The Bibliotheke covered world history from the beginnings to 59 BC. Diodoros was in Egypt in the 180th Olympiad (60–56 BC). Jerome says that Diodoros became famous in 49 BC. The latest event certainly mentioned is the foundation of the Roman colony at Tauromenium, conventionally 36 BC. Caesar is frequently referred to as deified in recognition of his achievements, but there is no mention of Actium in a number of places where it might be expected. For present purposes it is enough for us to conclude that Diodoros wrote in a world dominated by the conquests of Pompey and then Caesar, but one in which autocracy was not yet seen as inevitable12. The whole of that period would have been treated in the last of the Bibliotheke’s 40 books, a book which began in 70 BC. The world described by Diodoros certainly feels pre-Augustan. There is none of the consciousness of monarchy that recurs throughout Strabo’s Geography, also largely written in Rome but completed half a century later13. Between the period of Diodoros’ researches and those of Strabo, Rome was the key centre for numerous archaeological investigations conducted by Greeks. Alexander Polyhistor was brought back as a slave from the Mithridatic Wars. Timagenes of Alexandria came to Rome as a captive in 55 BC and stayed on to become a household retainer of first Augustus, and then Asinius Pollio. Dionysios of Halikarnassos too came to Rome, voluntarily in his case, learned the language and spent a quarter century writing his Roman Archaeology. I arrived in Italy at the very time that Augustus Caesar put an end to the civil war, in the middle of the one hundred and eighty-seventh Olympiad and having from that time to this present day, a period of twenty-two years, lived at Rome, learned the language of the Romans and acquainted myself with their writings, I have devoted myself during all that time to matters bearing upon my subject. Some information I received orally from men of the greatest learning, with whom I associated; and the rest I gathered from histories written by the approved Roman authors – Porcius Cato, Fabius Maximus, Valerius Antias, Licinius Macer, the Aelii, Gellii and Calpurnii and many others of note; with these works, which are like the Greek annalistic accounts, as a basis, I set about the writing of my history14.

Dionysios will have arrived in 30 or 29 BC and completed his work in 7 BC. Other, lesser, figures spent long periods there. 11 For the distinction between “the field” and “the academy” as complementary but opposed loci in the production of ethnographic knowledge cf. Clarke 2008, op. cit. (n. 5); J. Clifford-G. Marcus (eds.), Writing culture. The poetics and politics of ethnography (Berkeley 1986). 12 A. Wallace-Hadrill, “Mutatio morum: the idea of a cultural revolution”, in T. Habinek-A. Schiesaro (eds.), The Roman cultural revolution (Cambridge 1997), for this period as one of cultural innovation. 13 For the Augustan context of Strabo see now Veyne 1988, op. cit. (n. 6); D. Dueck, Strabo of Amasia. A Greek man of letters in Augustan Rome (London – New York 2000); D. Dueck-H. Lindsay-S. Pothecary (eds.), Strabo’s cultural geography. The making of a Kolossourgia (Cambridge 2005). 14 Dionysios, Roman Antiquities 1.3.2–3 (translation Loeb).

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There had naturally been shorter visits from Greek intellectuals much earlier. The visit of Crates of Mallos in 159 BC and the philosophers’ embassy of 155 BC are often cited. Polybios, for reasons outside of his control, spent a long period in Rome, and Panaitios was also a guest of the Scipiones towards the end of this period. Artemidoros of Ephesus visited, also as an ambassador, and Posidonios was in Rome between 87–6 BC. The prominence of philosophers on diplomatic missions suggests that some Greek cities had already identified this as a special interest of the Republican aristocracy15. It has been argued that Roman leaders made deliberate use of some of these visitors to help them understand the new worlds into which Roman armies were expanding16. But although Roman wars certainly facilitated the explorations of Polybios and Posidonios and perhaps others, the evidence for deliberate promotion of these ventures, except in the case of Polybios, or use of their results by Rome is slight17. Not is there any sign that intellectuals came to Rome in the second or early first century BC in order to study. Those that were not brought by diplomatic business seem mostly to have been visiting as teachers and performers: after the return of the Achaean exiles there were no significant Greek scholars living and working in Rome for around two generations. From the middle of the last century BC all this changed. Rome was not the sole location of scholarly research. Apart from Athens and Alexandria there were important groups of scholars working in the courts of those monarchs often called client kings and they can offer interesting views of Rome from the margins18. But the centre of scholarly gravity had shifted to the Mediterranean’s new capital. 2. THE RESEARCH ENVIRONMENT The Greek archaeologists at Rome – Diodoros, Timagenes, Dionysios, Strabo and the rest – may be thought of as belonging to at least two wider communities. The first and most obvious community is that group of educated Greeks who came to Rome soon after the Mithridatic Wars19. Some came as prisoners or hostages and some apparently came to make their fortune, mostly as teachers like Dionysios, or 15 M. Griffin, “Philosophy, politics and politicians at Rome”, in M. Griffin and J. Barnes (eds.), Philosophia Togata I. Essays on Philosophy and Roman Society (Oxford 1989). 16 One of the many inspirational suggestions in A. Momigliano, Alien wisdom. The limits of hellenisation (Cambridge 1975). 17 Pace Momigliano, it is not easy to show exactly how Posidonios “helped Caesar through his historical work to conquer Gaul” (p.72) despite the likely influence of his account over Caesar’s own ethnographic excursus. 18 L. M. Yarrow, Historiography at the end of the republic. Provincial perspectives on Roman rule (Oxford 2006); D. W. Roller, The world of Juba II and Kleopatra Selene. Royal scholarship on Rome’s African frontier (London-New York 2003). 19 E. Rawson, Intellectual life in the late Roman Republic (London 1985), who picks out Tyrannio the Elder, Alexander Polyhistor and Parthenius as the stars of a large crowd. See also M. H. Crawford, “Intellectuals and the Roman aristocracy in the first century BC”, in P. Garnsey-C. R. Whittaker (eds.) Imperialism in the Ancient world (Cambridge 1978) and A. Wallace-Hadrill, “Review article: Greek knowledge, Roman power”, Classical Philology 83 (1988), 224–33.

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to become the star protégé of a Roman noble, as in the case of Philodemos of Gadara. Many presumably came in one capacity, and were able to establish new positions for themselves. Many were polymaths, a large group had philosophical interests, some taught. Archaeologists engaged in researching the origins and character of western peoples, were in a minority. The wealth and friendship of Roman patrons seems to have been essential for most intellectuals. The anecdote about Timagenes being expelled from Augustus’ house and being taken in by Asinius Pollio suggest that without a patron a Greek scholar could not function. Patrons provided accommodation and sustenance and probably usually some income. Some of that might be acquired by other means. Teaching was clearly an important income for some long term residents, if perhaps one they did not always choose to advertise in their works. A private income was presumably available to some, since few scholars can have been genuinely poor and some modern writers consider most of them as members of provincial elites20. But only scholars with patrons could gain access to the two more fundamental resources mentioned by Dionysios, books and personal connections within the Roman aristocracy. Diodoros’ praise for the facilities available in Rome recalls the travellers’ tales told by modern European scholars on their return from sabbatical visits to lavishly provided Schools of Advanced Study and Research Institutes in the US. Access to world-class research libraries was essential. Until Asinius Pollio and Augustus created Rome’s first public libraries, this meant access to the private collections of Roman aristocrats.21 Polybios had depended during his stay on the books brought back by Aemilius Paullus from the Macedonian royal library of Pella. Since that time more libraries had been transplanted to Rome. Those of Carthage had been given to African petty kings, and presumably provided the basis for the researches of Juba of Mauretania, but that was an exception. The Mithridatic Wars had brought more libraries to Rome. Lucullus’ library at Tusculum is described by Plutarch. He got together many books, and they were well written, and his use of them was more honourable to him than his acquisition of them. His libraries were thrown open to all, and the cloisters surrounding them, and the study-rooms, were accessible without restriction to the Greeks, who constantly repaired thither as to an hostelry of the Muses, and spent the day with one another, in glad escape from their other occupations. Lucullus himself also often spent his leisure hours there with them, walking about in the cloisters with their scholars, and he would assist their statesmen in whatever they desired. And in general his house was a home and prytaneium for the Greeks who came to Rome. He was fond of all philosophy, and well-disposed and friendly towards every school, but from the first he cherished a particular and zealous love for the Academy, not the New Academy, so-called, although that school at the time had a vigorous representative of the doctrines of Carneades in Philo, but the Old Academy, which at that time was headed by a persuasive man and powerful speaker in the person of Antiochus of Ascalon.

20 G. W. Bowersock, Augustus and the Greek world (Oxford 1965); Yarrow 2006, op. cit. (n.18). 21 On the nature of libraries in Republican Rome see now J.König, K.Oikonomopolou and G.Woolf (eds.) Ancient Libraries (Cambridge 2013) and G. W. Houston, Inside Ancient Libraries. Book collections and their management in antiquity (Chapel Hill NC, 2014).

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This man Lucullus hastened to make his friend and companion, and arrayed him against the disciples of Philo, of whom Cicero also was one. 22

Plutarch offers an image of a kind of Roman Museum, not simply a collection of texts but also a sort of ersatz philosophical school, equipped for peripatetic debate and with a clear philosophical allegiance23. Plutarch’s Lucullus patronised on a grand scale, civic or regal rather than aristocratic. It was Kings that assembled great libraries and Greek cities that entertained honoured individuals with meals and hospitality in prytaneia. The Muses recall the great foundations of Fulvius Nobilior and of course Ptolemy II. The Villa of the Papyri at Herculaneum was less grand, but is most plausibly understood as having originated in the same period. It too possessed a library, spaces for debate embellished like Cicero’s philosophical retreat – his “Lyceum” at Tusculum – with Greek statuary, and a clear if different philosophical allegiance. Its discovery is a reminder that not all the collections and establishments of this kind are necessarily attested in our surviving literary sources. Perhaps we should imagine a number of great homes in and around Rome containing collections of various sizes, mostly comprising Greek texts, alluding in their design and ethos to the philosophical schools of Hellenistic Athens. Greek archaeologists in Republican Rome needed aristocratic patrons in order to gain access to all these collections. This was not only hard work, but work which only a few could ever undertake. Their reading expeditions were presented as undertaken for the benefit of the many. Diodoros hints at this in his justification for writing the Bibliotheke. Advertising the great benefit it would bring to his readers he writes If a man should begin with the most ancient times and record to the best of his ability the affairs of the entire world down to his own day, so far as they have been handed down to memory, as though they were the affairs of just one polis, he would obviously have to undertake an immense labour, yet he would have composed a treatise of the utmost value to those who are studiously inclined. For from such a treatise every man will be able readily to take what is of use for his special purpose, drawing as it were from a great fountain. The reason for this is that, in the first place, it is not easy for those who propose to go through the writings of so many historians to obtain the books which come to be needed, and in the second place, that because the works vary so widely and are so numerous, the recovery of past events becomes extremely difficult to understand and achieve.24

Here in a nutshell is the dilemma of the Hellenistic archaeologist, one very familiar to modern scholars in the humanities. So much has already been written that it is difficult to find copies of everything relevant and once one has done so, there lies ahead an enormous work in reconciling differences and combining different ac22

Plutarch, Life of Lucullus 42. 1–2 (trans. Loeb). A philosophical and literary lens naturally shaped many of the extant representations of these libraries and how they were used. On the library of Lucullus see T. K. Dix “The library of Lucullus.” Athenaeum 88.2 (2000), 441–464 and especially S. A. Frampton “What to Do with Books in the De finibus.” forthcoming in TAPA 146.1 (Spring 2016). 23 D. Sedley, “Philosophical allegiance in the Greco-Roman world” in M. Griffin-J. Barnes (eds.), Philosophia Togata I. Essays on philosophy and Roman society (Oxford 1989); id., Lucretius and the transformation of Greek wisdom (Cambridge 1998). 24 Diodoros 1.3.6–8 (trans. Loeb, my italics)

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counts25. Conducting research of this kind meant moving between the residences of the very wealthy in search of potentially rare and costly copies of Greek books. No outsider, however well provided for financially, could gain access to this material without the help of Roman patrons. Diodoros also mentions the importance of Latin records for historical research. What he meant by this is unclear: only fragments survive of the second half of the Bibliotheke in which the rise of Rome was treated. More generally there is increasing scepticism about the extent to which there existed in Rome either public archives, or publicly accessible records like those held by priestly colleges. Both Greek archaeologists like Dionysios and the Roman scholars of the Ciceronian and Augustan ages – men like Varro, Nepos, Atticus and Verrius Flaccus – seem to have had to invest a great deal of effort into establishing even such basic data as consular fasti. On the other hand, the notion of using original documents and public records as authorities was well known. Numerous examples could be cited from Polybios to Livy of this practice, and not all were epigraphic26. But when Cicero and his contemporaries did seek documentary evidence they often looked not in the aerarium nor the tabularium but in the privately held records of those aristocratic families with consular and censorial ancestors27. The same category of records is cited by Dionysios in his exhaustive investigation of the chronology of early Roman history28. Once again the importance of access to the homes of Rome’s aristocracy is underlined. Did access bring other kinds of knowledge? Dionysios claims in the passage quoted above (as Polybios had before him) to have learned from conversations with great Romans. But he is also frank about how little they know about their own past. The Romans, to be sure, have not so much as one single historian or chronicler who is ancient; however, each of their historians has taken something out of ancient accounts that are preserved on sacred tablets.29

What follows is a virtuoso demonstration of the incoherence of Roman traditions, and even a lack of consensus over which of Rome’s three foundations is the real one. Dionysios returns immediately to Greek historians, beginning with Timaios. Besides it looks as if those Romans he spoke to were mostly local archaeologists 25

The difference from the age of Herodotos is, naturally, largely a matter of degree perhaps accentuated by a greater tendency in later writers to foreground these difficulties as a way of building their authority. For Herodotos’ book-world see R. L. Fowler, “Herodotos and his contemporaries”, Journal of Hellenic Studies 116 (1996), 62–87. 26 S. Demougin (ed.), La mémoire perdue: à la recherche des archives oubliées, publiques et privées, de la Rome antique. Série Histoire ancienne et médiévale (Paris 1994) beginning a project on Roman archives continued in C. Moatti, “La mémoire perdue III. Recherches sur l’administration romaine: le cas des archives judiciaires pénales”, Melanges de l’École française à Rome 113 (2000) 647–779; id., “Les archives du census: le contrôle des hommes”, Melanges de l’École française à Rome 113 (2001) 559–764; id. (ed.), La mémoire perdue: recherches sur l’administration romaine (Rome 1998). 27 P. Culham, “Archives and alternatives in Republican Rome”, Classical Philology 84 (1989), 100–115. 28 Dionysios, Roman Antiquities 1.74.4 29 Dionysios, Roman Antiquities 1.73.1

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rather than generals who had been involved in the conquest of the west. Cato is in a rare cross-over category. Polybios’ connections were at quite a different level. Lucullus and Asinius Pollio would have been in that league, but we cannot be sure all Greek scholars were among their intimates. Perhaps it is sensible to envisage Greek archaeologists at Rome as enjoying a range of different financial circumstances and very variable access to both Roman scholars and Roman statesmen. Some were on close terms with Roman grandees, some of whom shared their interests. Cicero and his contemporaries write of their learned house-guests with apparent respect. But many Greek scholars will have been of lower status or less close to the aristocracy, even if given access to their libraries. From the Republic we do not have anything like Juvenal’s and Lucian’s satirical portraits of Greek scholars as just part of a crowd of domestici exploiting and suffering from the patronage of boorish Roman nobles. 3. THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF THE WEST I said earlier that those scholars whom I have called Greek archaeologists at Rome belonged to two communities. So far I have discussed only one of these communities, that group of Greek intellectuals that came to Rome after the Mithridatic Wars and during Pompey’s ascendancy and then stayed there to work in and around the houses of the Roman aristocracy. Only a few of these were primarily engaged in researching the deep past, but the general value placed on polymathy perhaps suggests many were interested. The second community comprised all those involved in the investigation of ta archaia, wherever based and whatever their origins. For it is a striking feature of this period that archaeological investigation began to be conducted on a wider and wider scale, within the rapidly expanding western provinces. Where earlier generations of archaeologists had primarily collected origin stories for Italian peoples30, now the field of enquiry was extended to Spain, Africa and Gaul. So too was the range of those involved in this project. Over the last generation of the Republic through the Augustan period, Greek archaeologists were joined by new kinds of writers, some Roman, some provincial, and some Greeks living in the provinces. Archaeology was no longer a uniquely Greek science, and archaeologists like Diodoros found themselves for the first time part of an ethnically diverse and polyglot intellectual community. Another reason why Rome had become the centre of archaeological investigations is that it was one of the few places where all these strands intersected. Consider for a moment Diodoros’ investigations into the origins of the Gauls, contained in chapters 24–32 of book 5 of the Bibliotheke. His description of the customs, appearance and institutions of the Gauls are generally held to be based on 30

T. P. Wiseman, “Domi nobiles and the Roman cultural élite”, Les Bourgeoisies municipales italiennes aux IIe et Ier siècles av. J.-C. (Naples 1981); E. Dench, From barbarians to new men. Greek, Roman and Modern perceptions of peoples from Central Apennines (Oxford 1995) offer overviews.

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the researches of Posidonios, conducted at the beginning of the last century BC, and perhaps inserted into his account of the Cimbric Wars. (Posidonios is usually considered a common source for similar passages in Diodoros and Strabo, and some fragments – most inevitably concerned with feasting – have been preserved by Athenaios31.) But Diodoros also shows a knowledge of Caesar’s campaigns of the 50s, formally later than the end point of the Bibliotheke. There is also some additional matter that cannot be ascribed to either Posidonios or Caesar. One such passage occurs in book 4 in the course of his account of the wanderings of Herakles. On his return from defeating Geryon in Spain, Herakles had pacified the entirety of Gaul and then founded the city of Alesia, the name of which recalls his wanderings. It was to begin with a great centre of civilization but the gradual mingling of its inhabitants with the locals barbarised it. All the same the Celts up to this day regard it as the hearth and capital (hestia and metropolis) of all Celtica and it remained free up until the day it was besieged and captured by Caesar who has become a god on account of his great deeds32. Even if we allow for this part of the Bibliotheke to be published as late as the middle of the thirties BC then it is striking how rapidly Alesia has become mythologised, effectively within at most twenty years of the Caesarian siege. What had been a relatively minor hill-fort until its choice by Vercingetorix as the place for his last stand against Caesar, has become an ancient foundation and a central place in a new barbarian history. How the investigation proceeded is obscure. Should we see this as claims made by locals (but if so they have learned quickly about the Herakles myth, and have enough Greek to create this bogus etymology of Alesia from alei)? Caesar used other means to make this siege seem central, so he is not the source for this. Are we dealing with a recent elaboration on that theme, perhaps by Timagenes whom we know to have devoted long passages to a Celtic Ethnography? This method of equipping barbarians with a past is familiar from many parallel cases33. It seems unlikely Diodoros has himself invented this legend. Somewhere between Gaul and Rome some archaeologists have been at work. Diodoros could have encountered the story in the provinces, but it is much more likely he encountered it in Rome. He has certainly been at work reconciling divergent accounts, since although he writes after Caesar whose careful distinction between Gauls and Germans must have been known to him, Diodoros scrupulously follows Posidonios’ earlier account in which the Germans did not feature and the classical Greek division of Europe between Celts and Scythians was preserved, and later offers a distinction between Keltai in the south and Galatai in the north with the comment that the Romans call all of them Galatai regardless.

31

D. Nash, “Reconstructing Poseidonius’ Celtic ethnography: some considerations”, Britannia 7 (1976), 141–171. 32 Diodoros, Bibliotheke 4.19.1–2. 33 H-J. Gehrke, “Heroen als Grenzgänger zwischen Griechen und Barbaren”, in F. Gruen (ed.), Cultural borrowings and ethnic appropriations in antiquity (Stuttgart 2005); V. Fromentin and S. Gotteland (eds.), Origines Gentium, Ausonius Publications (Paris 2001).

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We have a little more knowledge about another example of archaeological investigation very local to where we are today, among the Turdetanoi of Andalucia. Strabo in his account of the region writes as follows34: Beyond the regions in question, in the mountain country, Odysseia is to be seen, and in it the temple of Athene, as has been stated by Poseidonios, Artemidoros, and Asclepiades the Myrlean, a man who taught grammar in Turdetania and has published an account of the tribes of that region. According to Asclepiades, shields and ships’ beaks have been nailed up in the temple of Athene as memorials of the wanderings of Odysseus; and some of those who made the expedition with Teucer lived in Callaicia, and there were once two cities there, of which one was called Hellenes, and the other, Amphilochi; for not only did Amphilochus die at the place, but his companions wandered as far as the interior of the country. And, he further says, history tells us that some of the companions of Heracles and of the emigrants from Messene colonised Iberia. As for Cantabria, a part of it was seized and held by the Laconians, according to both Asclepiades and others. Here, too, they mention a city Opsicella, founded by Ocelas, who in company with Antenor and his children crossed over to Italy.

This passage has long been used to exemplify the working methods of those who investigated the origines gentium35. It is indeed a perfect example of how local traditions were related to grand mythological schemas, here again Herakles but also the nostoi narratives that recounted the travels of heroes and refugees after the Trojan War. It also illustrates how toponyms and ethnonyms and also monuments were deployed as evidence to suggest or support particular conjectures. But perhaps most fascinating is the figure of Asclepiades as the key cultural broker, teaching Greek grammatika to the barbarians in a Roman province, and in his spare time conducting investigations into their archaeology which fed into the mainstream. Strabo and Diodoros are full of anecdotes of this sort. Diodoros has a wonderful account of how Egyptian priests have records documenting the visits to Egypt of Orpheus, Musaeus, Melampus, Daedalus, Homer, Lycurgus, Solon, Plato, Pythagoras, Eudoxus, Democritus and Oenopides36. These tall tales he may have heard in Egypt, but the western ones must mostly have come to Rome first of all. From the 50s BC we begin to see the first versions of archaeological investigations written in Latin. Caesar’s ethnographic passages and those in Sallust’s Jugurtha are the best known today, both drawing on a mixture of written sources in Greek supplemented (apparently) by local tradition37. But Cicero too planned a Geography and by the middle of the first century AD Pliny the Elder was able to draw on a large number of archaeologiai produced by nostri as well as those of the Greeks.

34 Strabo 3.4.3 35 Bickermann 1952, op. cit. (n. 4). 36 Diodoros 1.96.2 with O. Murray, “Hecataeus of Abdera and Pharaonic Kingship”, Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 56 (1970), 141–171. 37 Caesar and Cicero both claim knowledge of the Gauls from oral testimony cf. G. Woolf, Becoming Roman. The origins of provincial civilization in Gaul (Cambridge 1998), ch. 3. See recently on Sallust R. Morstein-Marx, “The myth of Numidian origins in Sallust’s African excursus (Iugurtha 17.7–18.12)”, American Journal of Philology 122 (2001), 171–200; on Juba Roller 2003, op. cit. (n. 18), on Mela R. Batty, “Mela’s Phoenician Geography”, Journal of Roman Studies 90 (2000), 70–95.

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But for my final example I want to consider the work of Pompeius Trogus. His Historiae Philippicae were in some ways very similar to Diodoros’ Bibliotheke, being a 44 book account of world history from the beginning to his own day. The end date is in the middle of Augustus’ reign and so the whole was composed about mid-way in time between Diodoros’ work and Strabo’s. The big difference is that it was composed in Latin, not Greek. Yet it should not be classified as a purely Roman version of their works, since the title and much of the subject matter claims Hellenistic Greek models, and Trogus himself was a Vocontian from southern Gaul whose grandfather had been enfranchised by Pompey and whose father had served with Caesar as some sort of secretary. One wonders if some of his duties included translation? At any rate he was as polyglot as Diodoros claimed to be. Modern historians sometimes seem fascinated by figures of this kind who combine in their persons the ethnic complexities of the age. But it is less often pointed out that Trogus goes out of his way to signal all this himself. Trogus’ self portrait occurs in his 43rd book which is in fact the most archaeological of all the work, in the sense in which I have been using the term. That book, which we know only in epitome, begins with Trogus declaring he will now return home as he would be an ungrateful citizen not to do so. There follows an account of the origins of Italy, of Saturn’s reign, of the stories of Faunus, Evander, Hercules, Latinus, Aeneas and the foundation of Alba Longa. So far his narrative coheres with the version in the Aeneid. But his earlier books on Carthage tell the story of Dido without Aeneas: like Diodoros, then, he is selecting carefully from rival versions. The next section told the Romulus and Remus story, evidently at great length, followed by the restoration of Numitor, the foundation of Rome and the rape of the Sabine women. But at this point the story takes an unfamiliar tangent. During the reign of Tarquin, the Phocaeans arrive fleeing Asia, and then go on to found Marseilles. Trogus now recounts the archaeology of the Phocaeans, their arrival in Gaul, their meeting with King Nannus, the marriage of Protis and Gyptis, war with the Ligurians and the foundation of Marseilles. An exact parallel is established here to the story of Aeneas and Lavinia. There then follows the civilizing of Gaul, the plot of Comanus the Segobrigian and the Ligurian conspiracy at the Floralia, then Massiliot victories over Gauls, Ligures and Carthaginians. At this point the ancient friendship of Rome and Marseilles becomes the theme emphasising the loyalty of Marseilles to Rome. So the Massiliots collect gold and silver to compensate Rome for the sack by the Gauls (described as a rather more devastating destruction than in most Roman accounts), and their consequent privileges and rewards are related. No mention is made of Marseilles’ part in Caesar’s civil war or its consequent loss of privileges and territory. It is at the end of this book that Pompeius Trogus discloses his Vocontian origin, his grand father enfranchised by Pompey in the Sertorian war, his uncle serving with Pompey, and his father trusted by Julius Caesar. The entirety of book 43 has interwoven the archaeologies of Rome, Marseilles and the Gauls. Trogus’ self identification forms the conclusion of it. The new barbarian archaeologies of Alesia, of the Turdetanoi and of the Gauls, were the products of investigations conducted in the middle of the last century BC. Rome was, inevitably, a central point of reference. The city of Rome where Di-

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odoros, Dionysios, Trogus and Strabo worked at gathering and systematizing this new information was also crucial. The traditional picture of Greek scholars in Rome is not wrong. They were indeed kidnapped and enticed to come to the centre of power by the force and wealth of Roman aristocrats, some of whom had stolen and purchased vital library resources at the same time. Rome was the one place where they might establish close links with Roman aristocrats who still held some much material in private hands. It was also the best place to pick up the emerging new knowledge of the west produced in the provinces by educated individuals drawn from many backgrounds. Roman conquerors provided the circumstances within this new research took place. But it is less obvious that Greek intellectuals were commissioned to document the new world for the benefit of their Roman patrons. When we ask who did the work of creating new archaeologies of the west the two most obvious groups are western provincials and Greek intellectuals based in Rome: there is no reason to think their intended audiences were Romans rather than other Greek intellectuals. In practice of course, all educated persons read Greek scholarship. This was apparently a very specific historical moment. Trogus and Strabo stand at the end of a tradition. When Ammianus wanted to appropriate this sort of knowledge he went to Timagenes. Other kinds of historical writing predominated in the Greek and Latin tradition of the early empire. This does not mean local archaeology did not continue, and it surfaces occasionally in later texts. I have mentioned Mela, and the fruits of local traditions recur too in Lucan and Statius. But the really intense period of scientific progress was very short, less than a century in total. Greek archaeologists in Rome were at the heart of it.

STRABON ET PLUTARQUE : REGARDS CROISÉS SUR L’HÉGÉMONIA TÔN RHÔMAIÔN Maurice Sartre Paul Veyne a souvent dit ou écrit que deux peuples avaient, en définitive, opposé à Rome une opposition farouche et sans concession, pour des raisons différentes : les Juifs pour des raisons religieuses, les Grecs pour des raisons culturelles. Il ne sera pas question des Juifs ici, mais je voudrais revenir sur les Grecs. Est-il vrai qu’ils furent des opposants constants à Rome et, si oui, sous quelle forme? Il va de soi qu’il est inutile de chercher la trace de révoltes armées comme celles où s’impliquèrent les Juifs jusqu’à l’époque de Bar Kokhba. Certes, il y eut bien des troubles qui, d’une manière ou d’une autre, mirent en cause des Romains: assassinats de Romains à Rhodes et en Lycie, agitation interne qui provoque l’intervention de Rome à Sardes, et on pourrait sans doute donner quelques autres exemples. Mais l’opposition grecque se manifeste sous une forme beaucoup plus sournoise. En réalité, si j’ai bien compris ce que Veyne a plusieurs fois exprimé, l’opposition des Grecs se manifeste d’abord par une suprême arrogance envers les Romains : au nom d’une culture jugée supérieure – et que les Romains eux-mêmes jugent comme la quintessence de la culture – les Grecs auraient affiché un mépris constant envers les maîtres du moment. Après tout, les Grecs ne furent-ils pas les seuls habitants de l’Empire dont la langue ne fut pas considérée comme une langue barbare, mais comme l’une des deux langues de l’Empire? Et les Romains ne furent-ils pas des propagateurs zélés de cette langue et de la culture qu’elle véhicule? La conscience qu’avaient les Grecs de leur supériorité ne cesse de se manifester dans les écrits des auteurs grecs d’époque impériale, même s’il leur faut composer avec l’occupant. Mais il ne faut pas se cacher la difficulté de l’analyse lorsque l’on tente de cerner comment les Grecs voyaient et jugeaient l’administration romaine. Les inscriptions, dont on connaît le nombre impressionnant pour l’Asie Mineure (qui sera seule prise en compte ici), donnent une image positive dans la plupart des cas. Mais comment en serait-il autrement alors que la plupart d’entre elles sont dressées en l’honneur de l’empereur, de gouverneurs, de Romains ou de Grecs de ceux-ci ?. Il n’est pas d’usage dans une inscription honorifique de nuancer l’éloge par des considérations négatives sur l’action des personnes honorées. Ce n’est guère que dans les lettres des communautés aux empereurs ou des réponses de ceux-ci aux mêmes communautés que l’on trouve des critiques sévères envers des agents de l’administration impériale : à Sagalassos sous Tibère comme à Arangouè de Phrygie sous Philippe l’Arabe, on devine les récriminations âpres des provinciaux. Mais ces documents exceptionnels ne peuvent masquer que, le plus souvent, les docu-

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ments affichés dans les cités expriment la satisfaction des provinciaux d’avoir à subir l’hégémonia tôn Rhômaiôn 1. Il faut donc essayer d’aborder la question par un autre angle pour savoir comment des intellectuels grecs jugent la domination de Rome. Puisque les inscriptions traduisent les soucis et les contraintes de la vie quotidienne, mieux vaut essayer d’analyser le discours des Grecs, sans avoir d’illusion : Strabon, Plutarque, Appien, Dion ou Aelius Aristide ne portent pas davantage un regard objectif, et il n’est pas davantage certain qu’ils représentent une opinion largement partagée par leurs concitoyens. Chacun d’entre eux est prisonnier de préjugés qui lui sont propres, ménage sa place au sein de l’aristocratie de l’Empire et se fait l’écho d’un milieu social particulier. Strabon et Plutarque, dans une moindre mesure Aelius Aristide et Lucien, ont suscité de nombreuses études, y compris sur le sujet qui nous préoccupe ici. Il n’est pas question de reprendre l’étude à la base, encore moins de tenter une synthèse de l’ensemble de la littérature savante sur le sujet. Mais de relever quelques points qui me semblent dignes d’être soulignés dans le cadre de ce colloque. Quelles sont les préoccupations d’un Strabon ou d’un Plutarque lorsqu’ils ont à analyser la conduite de l’administration romaine de leur temps ? Quels sont les thèmes qui leur sont chers ? Et leurs silences ne sont-ils pas parfois révélateurs ? En choisissant deux auteurs qui se situent à environ un siècle d’écart, on se prive évidemment d’une comparaison sur le jugement qu’ils porteraient sur une même époque. Mais on y gagne la possibilité de suivre une évolution : entre les préoccupations de l’un et les soucis ou les critiques de l’autre, qu’apprend-on sur la place de la domination romaine en Asie mineure ? Car la situation change en profondeur entre le début et la fin du ier siècle : alors que Strabon écrit au sortir d’une crise qui a secoué l’Asie Mineure pendant des décennies et que se pansent les plaies de catastrophes innombrables, Plutarque a sous les yeux une Asie Mineure prospère, où les exactions du siècle précédent ne sont qu’un lointain souvenir. De plus, les deux auteurs appartiennent à des milieux différents, un Grec des confins barbares, un grand notable grec de Béotie lié à Delphes ; il faudrait aussi tenir compte de leur formation intellectuelle et leurs curiosités différentes. L’œuvre unique de Strabon vise à une description de l’Empire et du monde habité de son temps, avec des retours assez peu fréquents vers l’histoire récente (il remonte plus volontiers à Homère lorsque la région s’y prête, comme en Troade). Au contraire, dans l’œuvre multiforme de Plutarque, on ne peut mettre sur le même plan les biographies morales que constituent les Vies parallèles et les traités des Moralia, notamment les Préceptes politiques, qui visent à mettre en garde les Grecs de son temps contre les comportements dangereux. Certes Vies et Préceptes politiques se complètent, mais l’historien ne peut les traiter comme équivalents. *

1

Cf. l’inscription d’Acmonia IGR IV, 661; Thyatire IGR IV, 1195 ; même les dieux se mettent de la partie puisque le sanctuaire de Zeus de Panamara et d’Hécate de Lagina obtient l’asylie en raisons « des miracles évidents qu’ils ont fait dans l’intérêt de l’éternelle domination de nos seigneurs les Romains » : L. Robert, Études anatoliennes (Paris 1937), 519.

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Strabon porte assez rarement des jugements sur le mode d’administration de Rome, et il faut parfois interpréter ses silences plus que ce qu’il dit. Néanmoins, une lecture attentive permet de repérer les préoccupations du géographe d’Amaseia, et de déceler quelques critiques voilées et, plus rarement, directes. Le côté négatif de la domination romaine est affiché par Strabon à plusieurs reprises, sans que ses critiques soient toujours fondamentales. Comme « géographe », il reproche en premier à l’administration romaine d’avoir contribué au brouillage des limites territoriales entre les régions qui constituent l’Asie. Déjà, il s’étonne comme en passant que Rome ait choisi pour le nom de sa première province sur le continent asiatique le nom du continent lui-même (13.4.2). Mais ce n’est là qu’un aspect mineur de la critique. Surtout, Strabon reproche aux Romains de n’avoir pas respecté les limites traditionnelles des districts de la péninsule anatolienne, et d’avoir accru la confusion dans les dénominations. En 13.4.12, Strabon insiste sur la confusion introduite par la création des conventus. Constatant que Phrygiens, Cariens, Lydiens et Mysiens sont étroitement imbriqués les uns dans les autres, il ajoute que les Romains n’ont pas peu contribué à cet enchevêtrement car ils n’ont pas fixé les limites de leurs conventus (διοίκησις) selon les tribus (κατὰ φῦλα), mais selon une autre règle (ἕτερον τρόπον) qu’il ne précise pas mais qui est en réalité les territoires des cités, non celles des anciens peuples. Il arrive certes que Rome corrige ses erreurs: ainsi, Strabon souligne que Sestos avait été attribué au même gouverneur que la rive asiatique « au temps où les gouvernements (τὰς ἡγεμονίας) n’étaient pas délimités par les continents » (13.1.22), ce qui signifie qu’il n’en est plus ainsi de son temps. Mais ces remarques sur la géographie de l’Asie ne sont pas nécessairement négatives et Strabon est sans doute le premier à enregistrer des évolutions que les historiens contemporains ont été longs à prendre en compte. Par exemple, il perçoit dès le début du ier siècle que Rome favorise la structure civique au détriment des ethnè, encore nombreux en Asie (13.4.12). De même, il note qu’aux confins de la Troade et de la Mysie, les pouvoirs hégémoniques en place successivement n’ont cessé de modifier les limites, procédant à des regroupements de peuples, ce qui entraîne la disparition de certains (13.4.6); les « anciennes populations ont perdu désormais leurs langues et leurs noms du fait d’un partage du pays obéissant à d’autres considérations », et il date ce phénomène du temps des Romains, donc de date récente. Il ne souffle mot de ces « considérations » qui commandent à de nouvelles limites, mais on peut supposer qu’il fait allusion à la mise en place des conventus plutôt qu’à la restructuration des cités; or, Strabon, homme d’une cité, ne pouvait réellement s’étonner que Rome tienne compte davantage des limites des cités de son temps plutôt que des limites imprécises qui séparaient les anciens ethnè entre eux. Il est plus étonnant qu’il date des Romains la disparition des langues indigènes, car il ne devait guère en subsister dans ce secteur de l’ouest anatolien; mais Strabon oublie de souligner que cette disparition se fait au profit du grec, car le phénomène allait de soi pour quiconque. Par ailleurs, il souligne, sans la critiquer explicitement, la manie des Romains à éparpiller l’autorité entre de multiples responsables lorsqu’ils craignent le trop grand pouvoir d’un seul. Il donne ainsi l’exemple du Pont démembré par Pompée,

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et plus encore soumis à d’incessants changements entre l’époque de Pompée et celle de Tibère: « Par la suite, les autorités romaines instaurèrent à plusieurs reprises de nouvelles répartitions, instituant des rois et des dynastes, accordant la liberté à certaines cités, en assujettissant d’autres aux dynastes, en laissant d’autres encore sous la domination du peuple romain » (13.3.1). Cela peut prendre des formes compliquées, comme dans le Pont oriental, sur lequel il donne davantage de renseignements. Il rappelle que Zéla du Pont avait longtemps été administré par son seul prêtre ; Pompée ajouta divers districts à son territoire en lui donnant le rang de cité. Parallèlement, Mégalèpolis fut également érigée en cité avec adjonction des districts de la Culupène et de la Laviansène. « Les autorités romaines qui vinrent ensuite attribuèrent une partie de ces deux ensembles (politeumata) aux prêtres de Comana, une autre aux prêtres de Zéla, et une troisième à Atéporix, un dynaste issu de la famille des tétrarques de Galatie. Puis celui-ci mourut et sa part, qui n’est pas très grande, se trouve soumise aux Romains à titre de province (ἐπαρχία); la petite ville de Carana, dont ils ont réalisé le synoikisme, forme un ensemble séparé (σύστημα), d’où le nom de Caranitide donné à son territoire. Le reste appartient à Pythodôris et à Dyteutos ». Certes, c’est une région que Strabon connaît bien puisqu’elle est proche de sa patrie d’origine, et le luxe de détails qu’il donne provient sans doute d’un intérêt particulier pour sa province d’origine. Mais on ne peut s’empêcher de lire une sorte de critique voilée dans ce qui correspond à un démantèlement des structures anciennes. Il est rare que Strabon souligne des cas de mauvaise gestion de son temps, et même les allusions aux premiers temps de la province d’Asie sont rarissimes. Dans un développement assez long sur les pirates agissant dans l’Est de la mer Noire, il souligne néanmoins que les populations qui vivent sous le régime de rois locaux sont assez bien protégés des incursions des pirates, alors que celles qui sont directement administrées par les Romains ne le sont pas, du fait de la mauvaise qualité des gouverneurs envoyés dans la région (12.2.12). L’allusion est relativement obscure, car au temps où écrit Strabon, on ne voit pas bien quelle région serait administrée directement par des gouverneurs romains. Néanmoins, dans un autre passage (6.4.2), il souligne que les Arméniens, Albaniens et Ibères qui se situent « en arrière » de la Colchide sont des populations pacifiques qui n’ont besoin que d’un seul gouverneur romain. Il est néanmoins difficile d’exploiter un renseignement aussi allusif, faute de précisions. Or, Strabon savait sûrement que des proconsuls d’Asie et de Bithynie avaient été rappelés (et condamnés) pour concussion et extorsion de fonds: huit d’entre eux furent poursuivis sous le seul règne de Tibère! Il n’y fait nulle part allusion. Strabon est moins avare de renseignements pour des périodes plus anciennes. Il ne craint naturellement pas de critiquer Antoine: il rappelle son soutien à des tyrans (Boéthos de Tarse: 14.5.14) ou le don d’une cité grecque libre à des rois (Amisos libérée par César, donnée au roi du Pont puis au tyran Straton: 13.3.14), mais surtout, à plusieurs reprises, il critique ses exactions, ce qui lui permet de souligner l’action positive d’Auguste qui a restitué des œuvres volées. Ainsi, en Troade, la petite cité de Rhoiteion et les sanctuaires voisins ont été pillés par Antoine, par complaisance envers Cléopâtre, mais Auguste a rendu aux dieux leurs biens ances-

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traux (13.1.30). Trois statues de l’Héraion de Samos, œuvres de Myron, ont été emportées par Antoine; deux – mais deux seulement – ont été rendues par Auguste, la troisième, celle de Zeus, a été consacrée au Capitole de Rome (14.1.14). Il arrive même qu’il signale des exactions dues à Agrippa et même Auguste. Agrippa a pris à Lampsaque le « Lion » de Lysippe qu’il a consacré à Rome (13.1.19). Quant à Auguste, il a enlevé à l’Asclépéion de Cos le portrait peint d’Aphrodite Anadyomène qu’il a consacré à César à Rome; mais c’est davantage un achat qu’un vol puisqu’il a, en échange, fait remise de 100 talents de tribut (14.2.19). En revanche, il ne rappelle jamais les exactions commises durant le premier siècle de présence romaine en Asie. S’il évoque quelques faits survenus durant cette période, en dehors des vols d’Antoine ou des destructions de Fimbria (à Ilion, par exemple: 13.1.27), c’est plutôt pour mettre en valeur l’action de Rome. Si Fimbria a laissé Ilion en ruines, la cité a été restaurée par Sylla. Le produit des vols d’Antoine, on vient de le voir, a été restitué par Auguste. Si Mylasa souffre du fait d’un Romain, Labienus, c’est un Romain passé à l’ennemi, et la résistance de la cité sous la conduite d’Hybréas lui vaut des privilèges appréciables. Ce n’est que très indirectement qu’il mentionne les exactions des Romains, par exemple en rappelant qu’Artémidôros d’Éphèse dirigea une ambassade à Rome pour défendre sa cité contre les abus des publicains (14.1.26). L’exemple de Mylasa n’est pas isolé, et Strabon, sans formaliser son propos, met en relief les nouvelles règles qui prévalent en Asie Mineure, que ce soit dans la province comme au dehors. Il donne indirectement une excellente définition de l’État-client, à propos des Lyciens (19.3.3): les Lyciens délibéraient autrefois sur la paix et la guerre, mais cela relève désormais de la compétence des Romains, sauf si les Romains le permettent. D’une manière générale, Strabon, qui établit pour chaque cité la liste des personnalités en vue, auteurs, savants, artistes, souligne à de très nombreuses reprises la présence de personnalités amies de Rome: Mithridate de Pergame (13.4.3), Pythodôros de Nysa (ou Tralles) (14.1.42), Aristodèmos de Nysa (14.1.48), Théopompe de Cos (14.2.15), Artémidôros Sandon (14.5.14), entre autres. Sans jamais l’exprimer de façon théorique, Strabon note avec force l’intrusion dans la vie politique de l’Asie Mineure d’une notion fondamentale aux yeux de Rome, la fidelitas, qui conditionne le statut de chacun, individus et cités, face à Rome. Ainsi Pruse (13.4.3), Cyzique (12.8.11), deviennent des cités libres; Amisos jouit « d’un bon statut » (12.3.14). Mais Strabon évite bien de considérer comme une punition l’installation d’une colonie romaine à Alexandrie de Troade (13.1.6) ou à Sinope (12.3.11): il estime même que la première est devenue l’une des villes les plus remarquables de la région; mais la manière de s’exprimer dans le cas de Sinope, d’apparence très neutre, peut passer pour une critique voilée : « De nos jours, Sinope a accueilli une colonie romaine, à laquelle appartient une partie de la ville et de son territoire », manière de souligner que Pompée, par sa fondation de 63, a privé les Sinopéens d’une partie de leur cité. Mais curieusement, lorsqu’il mentionne la colonie romaine d’Antioche de Pisidie, sans y insister, il rappelle que la ville fut « libérée de la tyrannie des rois » (s.-e. séleucides) pour être remise à Eumène (12.8.14).

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Strabon ne se prive pas de porter parfois un jugement négatif sur des hommes mis en place par les Romains pour administrer un district à leur place. Cléon de Gordioukômè en est l’exemple le plus emblématique (12.8.9): Strabon estime qu’il est resté un brigand malgré les pouvoirs que Rome lui a conférés et qu’il était bien indigne des prêtrises de Zeus Abrettènos puis de Zeus de Comana dont il fut revêtu. Critiquant directement Auguste, il juge que le ralliement de Cléon au moment d’Actium fut bien trop largement récompensé par l’octroi d’une principauté en Asie Mineure. Strabon ne manque pas de souligner les actions positives du pouvoir romain, et de l’empereur en particulier. Il mentionne par deux fois l’aide apportée par Tibère aux cités d’Asie Mineure frappées par un séisme, Sardes et Magnésie du Sipyle (12.8.18, puis à nouveau 13.4.8 pour Sardes seule citée explicitement mais Strabon mentionne qu’il y eut d’autres cités frappées en même temps). Le renseignement est quelquefois assez vague: Ilion restaurée par Sylla (13.1.27), mais d’autres cas sont très explicites. Ainsi Strabon juge très positive l’annulation des concessions excessives d’asylie accordées au sanctuaire d’Artémis d’Éphèse par Alexandre, Mithridate et Antoine (14.1.23), qui ne servaient qu’à encourager la criminalité dans la région en assurant l’impunité au plus grand nombre. De même, il loue les Romains d’avoir rendu à l’Artémision des revenus fonciers supprimés par les rois de Pergame (14.1.26). Plus indirectement, la présence romaine fut parfois source de profit. Ainsi, le commerce d’esclaves s’est développé après 146 car les Romains enrichis par les guerres contre Carthage et contre l’Achaïe ont fortement accru leur consommation en ce domaine (14.5.2). De même, les carrières de marbre de Synnada (Dokimeion) prospèrent au rythme du développement du luxe des Romains (12.9.14). Au total, Strabon ne dépasse guère le stade du constat prudent. Certes, il critique parfois ouvertement Rome (à propos de Cléon), mais c’est plutôt rare, et il se borne le plus souvent à souligner les aspects positifs de la présence romaine. Les aspects négatifs sont secondaires ou marginaux (comme son regret sur la confusion des limites). Le plus intéressant reste sans doute de voir à quel point il a intégré les nouvelles règles imposées par Rome: création de rois et dynastes par Rome et Rome seule (Mithridate de Pergame dans le Pont (13.4.3), Cléon, Tarcondimotos de l’Amanus (14.5.18); importance de la fidelitas, même s’il arrive que les services rendus soient bien mal récompensés : ainsi de la propre famille de Strabon, dont le grand-père a soutenu Lucullus contre Mithridate, mais n’a jamais reçu les récompenses promises car Pompée, par hostilité contre son prédécesseur, a fait annuler toutes les distinctions promises par celui-ci (12.3.33). Mais Strabon a bien compris que c’était une conséquence collatérale de la guerre civile romaine, non une attitude habituelle des Romains. Il est en définitive bien difficile d’arracher au texte de Strabon un jugement global sur le mode de gouvernement des Romains. D’une manière générale, les critiques portent plutôt sur le passé et sur Antoine, alors que Strabon juge de façon positive les décisions d’Auguste et de Tibère. Mais ce qui frappe, c’est que Strabon se situe au niveau du simple constat, plutôt qu’à celui du jugement moral ou politique. *

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C’est là que Plutarque adopte une attitude radicalement différente de celle de Strabon. Certes, Plutarque est plus éloigné des périodes sombres de la domination romaine : sous les Flaviens comme sous les Antonins, on peut porter un jugement critique sur les acteurs de la politique romaine en Asie, d’autant que les principaux acteurs (Pompée, Antoine) se situent du côté des vaincus des guerres civiles. Surtout, les temps ont profondément changé. La prospérité est largement revenue, même s’il peut exister des crises ponctuelles, conjoncturelles comme à Antioche de Pisidie en 93. Le ralliement apparent des notables à la domination des Romains se traduit par des dédicaces officielles où l’on souhaite la domination éternelle des Romains. De plus, l’incorporation progressive des notables dans la citoyenneté romaine vise à les rendre solidaires du pouvoir en place, même si la plupart d’entre eux considère cette promotion statutaire comme une simple décoration supplémentaire car ils restent bien davantage attachés à leur citoyenneté locale. Plutarque présente de la domination romaine deux faces bien différentes. D’une part, dans les Vies, il n’hésite pas à brosser un tableau très sombre des exactions romaines au temps de la République. Les vies de Sylla, Lucullus, Crassus, Pompée, César, Antoine, Brutus notamment fourmillent d’exemples des drames vécus par les Grecs d’Asie entre l’époque du legs d’Attale III et la fin des guerres civiles. Les scènes dramatiques sont le plus souvent confirmées par de nombreuses inscriptions d’époque républicaine, y compris des senatus-consulte en réponse aux plaintes des provinciaux. Il n’est guère utile d’insister sur cet aspect de l’œuvre de Plutarque, et chacun sait combien on lui doit pour l’histoire de l’Asie à l’époque républicaine. Il est beaucoup plus intéressant d’analyser le jugement de Plutarque sur les relations entre le pouvoir romain et les Grecs des cités à son époque. Certes, on a relevé depuis longtemps qu’il est souvent irritant de voir Plutarque accumuler les lieux communs, les préceptes moraux les plus banals, mais derrière le discours convenu du grand notable ami des Romains, on peut lire une critique indirecte du pouvoir romain. Notable de haute volée, citoyen romain, Plutarque partage à l’évidence l’opinion des Grecs riches pour lesquels la présence romaine est une garantie d’ordre et de stabilité. Mais, dans les Préceptes politiques (traité 52), sans doute le traité le plus utile pour notre propos, il se livre en fait à une critique à double détente. L’essentiel des conseils donnés au jeune Ménémachos de Sardes est destiné aux notables grecs, jeunes ou vieux. Plutarque leur rappelle notamment de ne jamais oublier que le temps de l’indépendance des cités est terminé depuis longtemps, et que le proconsul veille à chaque instant sur ce qui se passe dans sa province. Ils ne peuvent avoir que l’illusion du pouvoir, ou, plus exactement, leur pouvoir est soumis à l’approbation constante des Romains. En fait, Plutarque semble adresser plusieurs types de reproches aux autorités romaines. Dans le traité 51 (An seni), il s’en prend vivement aux citoyens riches qui se détournent de la vie civique, et se contentent de vivre en simples particuliers, soucieux de faire des affaires et d’accroître leur richesse. Mais ses efforts pour montrer que l’administration civique conserve toute son importance revient à critiquer Rome de ne laisser que trop peu de marge de manœuvre aux magistrats des cités. Mais c’est surtout dans le traité 52 qu’il manifeste sa critique. Plutarque re-

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proche indirectement à Rome d’être à la fois omniprésente et indifférente. Omniprésente, puisque Plutarque rappelle qu’il n’y a pas une décision des magistrats civiques ou de l’assemblée qui ne puisse être cassée par le proconsul si elle est jugée dangereuse ou nuisible aux intérêts romains. Mais indifférente aux luttes de notables dans les cités. Il y a eu guerre civile à Sardes, et l’un des chefs de faction, Pardalas, a été exécuté. Mais il a fallu en arriver à la stasis pour que Rome se soucie enfin de ce qui se passait. Rome observe de loin, comme si les luttes de factions qui semblent nombreuses dans les cités servaient en quelque sorte à consolider son pouvoir. C’est une sorte de surveillance extérieure, comme si Rome attendait la faute (des notables ou d’une cité) plutôt que de chercher à la prévenir. Plutarque n’est pas loin de reprocher à Rome d’utiliser l’esprit de compétition des Grecs, l’agôn, comme une arme politique, pour tenir sous surveillance à la fois les notables grecs au sein d’une même cité, et les cités les unes par rapport aux autres. En instituant toute une hiérarchie d’honneurs qui ont acquis leur forme quasi définitive avant la fin du ier siècle, libre, autonome, immune, métropole, asyle, néocore, etc., Rome a dévoyé le goût légitime de l’honneur des cités en obligeant chacune à faire preuve de soumission aux vainqueurs pour maintenir les avantages acquis. Il en va de même au sein des cités. Certes, Rome n’a pas inventé l’évergétisme, mais en le régulant, en le rendant obligatoire, c’est-à-dire en en faisant le mode ordinaire de gouvernement des cités, elle a en quelque sorte perverti là aussi l’idéal de service de la cité qui doit animer les notables. D’un côté la contrainte exercée par Rome lorsque la pression du peuple ne suffit pas rend sans valeur le mérite des notables et trahit l’idéal civique grec. De l’autre, l’évergétisme devient le moteur quasi unique de la vie politique, et toute la compétition entre notables s’exerce autour de ce seul comportement. En en faisant une obligation pour les notables, Rome rend au peuple un pouvoir potentiel non négligeable (ce qu’a bien vu Dion de Pruse 38.35) puisque les troubles populaires qu’entraînerait la défaillance des notables se traduiraient par de lourdes sanctions infligées par Rome. La démagogie à laquelle se livrent les notables pour échapper aux accusations populaires risque d’entraîner les élites à offrir au peuple non l’essentiel, mais l’accessoire: le goût immodéré pour les spectacles de gladiateurs en est un exemple frappant, ce que Plutarque condamne à plusieurs reprises (802D, 821F, 822C, 823E). Or, il n’est pas facile d’exonérer les Romains de l’introduction des spectacles de gladiateurs, indispensables à une digne célébration du culte impérial. Sans compter que l’obligation de payer pousse nombre de notables à s’occuper des affaires publiques principalement pour s’enrichir (798E), car il faut bien reconstituer des fortunes sans cesse mises à contribution. Certes, Plutarque réserve ses critiques les plus dures à ses concitoyens, à ses semblables, mais c’est pour mieux leur faire comprendre que Rome a imposé un système pervers où ils risquent fort de laisser leur honneur quand ce n’est pas leurs biens ou leur vie. L’éloge d’un passé révolu sert de contrepoint à la description d’un présent où Rome porte une lourde responsabilité de dévoiement du système politique des cités. Et je ne peux m’empêcher de penser qu’il y a autant de cynisme que de dépit et d’amertume dans le célèbre passage (814C) où Plutarque recommande aux notables grecs de « se ménager toujours l’amitié d’un Romain très puissant et

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haut placé, qui sera le rempart solide de son action politique (car les Romains, de leur côté, mettent un empressement extrême à servir les intérêts politiques de leurs amis) … ». Ce passage pourrait être pris au premier degré, si on l’isole du contexte. Mais venant après des pages et des pages d’exemples de conduites exemplaires des Grecs du passé, et juste après le célèbre passage rappelant que ces temps sont révolus, que « ce n’est plus le temps des batailles », que chacun doit se dire « Toi qui commandes, tu es un sujet; tu commandes dans une cité soumise aux proconsuls, aux procurateurs de César » (813E), il est difficile de ne pas y voir l’expression rageuse d’un Grec fier de son passé et contraint d’admettre l’humiliation du présent. D’une certaine manière, Plutarque donne un conseil utile – dans la lignée du constat établi par Strabon naguère sur l’utilité de la fidelitas dans les rapports avec Rome, et de l’amicitia avec de puissants Romains –, mais il le fait sur un ton qui me semble être ironique à l’égard des notables de son temps: comment comprendre autrement une phrase comme « tout en présentant à ses maîtres une cité qu’il a rendu docile, l’homme d’État ne doit pas l’abaisser davantage, et en plus des chaînes qu’elle a à la jambe, lui en mettre d’autres au cou, comme le font certains qui, en déférant aux autorités (ἐπὶ τοὺς ἡγεμόνας) les petites affaires aussi bien que les grandes, accusent son esclavage etc … »(814E-F)! Car on en a retenu à juste titre la mise en garde adressée aux notables qui ont tendance à solliciter sans raison les autorités romaines, même là où Rome ne l’a pas imposé2. Cela ne peut faire oublier le début du propos : le notable est chargé de présenter à ses maîtres (τοῖς κρατοῦσιν) une cité docile (εὐπειθῆ τὴν πατρίδα)! Le propos devait être insupportable pour un Grec. Cela n’empêche évidemment pas Plutarque de reconnaître les bienfaits de la domination romaine, notamment le retour de la paix (cf. La Fortune de Rome; Les oracles de la Pythie; 28, 408 B-C), les services rendus à Delphes. Mais lorsqu’il se montre reconnaissant à Néron d’avoir rendu la liberté aux Grecs, même trop brièvement, il souligne en fait que le plus grand service que Rome peut rendre aux Grecs, c’est de leur accorder la liberté (La lenteur des punitions divines, 32, 567F). Il est difficile de ne pas trouver une bonne dose d’ironie dans les propos que Plutarque tient dans La sérénité 9, 469E, appelant ses concitoyens soumis à Rome à « tenir compte avec reconnaissance de ce que nous sommes en vie, de ce que nous sommes en bonne santé, de ce que nous voyons le soleil ; pas de guerre, pas de révolte ; de surcroît, ceux qui le veulent ont la possibilité de cultiver la terre et de parcourir la mer sans crainte; et il est permis de s’exprimer, d’agir, de se taire et de rester oisif ». Si l’idée que la domination de Rome est l’œuvre de la Fortune, de la Providence ou de quelque daimôn aide à en accepter la réalité, cela n’empêche pas de se livrer à une critique sévère de la manière dont Rome a perverti le système de valeurs auquel les citoyens des cités grecques restent attachés. De Strabon à Plutarque, le regard s’est modifié. Certes, les deux hommes ont des approches bien différentes. Mais il n’est pas sans importance que le notable 2

Sur le recours des Grecs à la justice romaine, voir désormais la thèse indispensable de Julien Fournier, Entre tutelle romaine et autonomie civique. Recherches sur l’administration judiciaire dans les provinces hellénisées de l’Empire romain (145 av. J.-C. – 212 ap. J.-C.) (Paris 2007).

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grec d’apparence bien intégrée, le citoyen romain L. Mestrius Ploutarchos, se révèle en réalité beaucoup plus critique envers le pouvoir romain que ne l’avait été le géographe originaire des confins de l’Empire. Simple arrogance de notable grec convaincu de la supériorité de sa culture et de son passé? Sans doute, mais on sent poindre surtout la conviction que ce mode de domination introduit des facteurs de corruption dans ce qui constitue l’essence même de la vie grecque, la vie de cité. Alors que Strabon privilégiait les aspects positifs, le retour de la paix, la réparation de certaines injustices et prenait acte des nouvelles règles instaurées par Rome dans les relations entre Grecs et Romains, Plutarque, sans négliger les aspects positifs, la paix, la prospérité, la promotion des notables, marque sa profonde désapprobation envers une hegemonia qui perturbe la mode de fonctionnement civique, corrompt les notables et flatte le peuple. Derrière les courbettes de façade se cache une sévère critique du pouvoir de Rome.

THE ROMAN EMPIRE IN THE WORKS OF AELIUS ARISTIDES Francesca Fontanella Among the works of Aelius Aristides is a speech dedicated to an enthusiastic description of the Roman Empire: the well-known discourse To Rome (Or. 26 Keil), made in the empire’s capital under the government of Antoninus Pius, probably in 144 A.D.1 If the encomiastic nature of the speech may raise some doubt as to whether it is, in fact, ‘the best general picture of the Roman Empire in the second century, the most detailed and the most complete that we have’ – as Rostovtzeff maintains2 –, recent studies (among which I naturally wish to mention those by Prof. Cortés)3 have amply demonstrated that the speech To Rome is not a mere exercise of rhetoric, but rather a political discourse in which Aristides interprets the reality of the Roman domination of Greeks, providing us with a significant representation of the Romans ‘Ruling through Greek Eyes’. Through the eyes of Aelius Aristides we see an ecumenical empire (§ 28) where order and harmony are ensured by obedience to the emperor (§§ 29–33). At the same time, this is an empire which reigns over free peoples and individuals (§§ 34– 36), where justice is administered to all (§§ 37–39). The grant of Roman citizenship (§§ 59–65) has produced ‘a single harmonious (and universal) system of government for all’ (§ 66). Worldwide peace has been achieved (§§ 69–70), thanks to which Greek cities are now thriving as never before (§§ 92–99). In conclusion, even through a comparison of the empires and hegemonies which preceded Rome (Persians: §§ 15–23; Macedonians: §§ 24–27; Greek cities: §§ 40–57), Aristides explicitly pays tribute to Roman excellence in the art of government (§§ 51; 91). Recently, however, Paolo Desideri has observed4 that the discourse To Rome is a text which may be read from several different perspectives. On the one hand, the widespread inclination prevalent among Greeks to accept Roman domination comes across clearly, as well as their readiness to recognise the superior political qualities of this Barbarian population from the West. On the other hand, one may 1 2 3 4

For the dating of the speech To Rome, cf. Aelius Aristides, A Roma, trans. and comm. by F. Fontanella (Pisa 2007), 79, which may be consulted also for the bibliography. Cf. M.I. Rostovtzeff, The social and economic history of the Roman Empire (Oxford 1957, 2nd ed.), 130. In particular cf. J. M. Cortés Copete, “A Roma de Elio Aristides, una historia griega para el Imperio”, in P. Desideri-S. Roda-A. M. Biraschi (eds.), Costruzione e uso del passato storico nella cultura antica (Firenze 2007), 411–433. P. Desideri, “Scrittura pubblica e scritture nascoste”, introduction to Aelius Aristides 2007, op. cit. (n. 1), 3–22.

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infer that Greek elites may not be able to embrace the empire entirely. In particular, in considering the reasons for the failed attempts of Greek ‘empires’, Aelius Aristides indeed recognises ‘the superior ability of the Romans in transforming victories in battle into a stable organizational system of cities and populations conquered’,5 yet at the same time seems to express regret as to the glorious results that could have been but were not achieved in Greek political history. Besides this, the meticulous description of the Roman military organization (§§ 71–87), which decidedly occupies too large a place within the context of the speech, would seem to be a message for the elites: rather than emphasizing the Roman army as an instrument of integration, Aristides draws attention to its existence and strength as a structure of power at the command of the civil government, which is to constitute a strong deterrent to conceivable ‘alternative’ temptations.6 In this paper, I shall endeavor to present a clearer picture of the Greek vision of the Roman empire as it emerges from works by our second-century A. D. misian intellectual, and at the same time offer the reader the opportunity to peruse the ‘hidden writing’ behind the encomium To Rome,7 by comparing several passages from this discourse with other excerpts from speeches made by Aelius Aristides in which the same themes recur, albeit in different rhetorical contexts. 1. ΟΥΚ ΦΙΛΑΝΘΡΩΠΙΑΣ AΡΧΕΙΝ EΓΚΡΑΤΕΙΣ8 (THAT IS, OUT OF LOVE OR … BY FORCE) A harmonious and universal system of government for all has arisen, and the coexistence of such conditions as before seemed impossible, under your reign have concurrently become reality: sovereignty over an empire of such grandeur, governing with a firm hand yet not without benevolence. Thus cities are clear of garrisons; cohorts and cavalry troops, though adequate to preside over entire provinces, cannot be found amassed in the cities of each population, but rather disseminated in surrounding territories amongst the rest of the inhabitants so that many provinces do not know where their garrison is to be found. And if a city, due to its excessive

5 6 7

8

Ibid., 14. Ibid., 15–17. The existence of implicit reservations toward Rome’s power in several of Aristides’ works has recently been highlighted by L. Pernot, “Aelius Aristides and Rome”, in W. V. Harris – B. Holmes (eds.), Aelius Aristides between Greece, Rome and the Gods (Leiden – Boston 2008) 175–201; E. Bowie “I discorsi civici di Elio Aristide”, in P. Desideri – F. Fontanella (eds.), Elio Aristide e la legittimazzione greca dell’ Impero di Roma (Bologna 2013), 69–89. Throughout this paper, for the speech To Rome I have used Klein’s edition: P. Aelii Aristidis Orationem EIS RWMHN edidit, transtulit atque notis instruxit R. Klein (Darmstadt 1983); for the other orations, the editions of Lenz-Behr: P. Aelii Aristidis Opera quae exstant omnia vol. I, orationes I–XVI complectens, orationes I et V–XVI ed. F.W.Lenz †, praefationem conscripsit et orationes II, III, IV ed. C.A. Behr (Lugduni Batavorum 1976) and of B. Keil (eds.): Aelii Aristidis Smyrnaei quae supersunt omnia vol. II, orationes XVII–LIII continens (Berolini 1898); the translations of Aristides are from P. Aelius Aristides, The complete works, translated into English by C. A. Behr, 2 volumes, (Leiden 1981–1986), with the exception of the speech To Rome where I use my own translation.

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magnitude, should exceed its capacity for wise autonomous government, you indeed would not withhold from it an envoy to govern and protect it. (Or. 26.66–67).9

Although it outlines an overall positive and peaceful vision of the relationship between cities and the imperial power, this passage from To Rome also contains three hints which could be taken as warnings to whosoever might feel tempted in the least to disturb Roman order in any way: Romans govern not without benevolence (φιλανθρωπία) but at the same time with a firm hand (ἐγκρατεῖς); Roman troops are not conspicuous, but they are present nonetheless; if a city is not able to govern itself wisely, someone will be sent to look after this ‘glitch’. It has been hypothesized10 that Aristides may have been alluding to Alexandria, making reference to the disorders mentioned in To the people of Alexandria by Dio of Prusa, which required the intervention of Roman troops.11 Desideri rightly observes that ‘whether or not this is a reference to the military operations carried out in Alexandria, the warning is naturally valid for all, even though expressed in hypocritically euphemistic terms: all cities are to be cautioned’ seeing as ‘the Roman military apparatus could be turned within the empire, just as easily as without.’12 What is ‘hidden’ in To Rome is stated explicitly in the speech To the Rhodians: concerning concord (Or. 24 Keil), written in Smyrna probably a short time after September 149 A. D. to exhort the Rhodians to put an end to the discord which had arisen within their city, perhaps in connection to the problem of managing public loans received for the purpose of repairing damages wrecked by the earthquake in Rhodes in 142 A. D.13 Aristides shows that tyranny is the lesser evil for cities compared to internal dissension; indeed in antiquity, freedom was sacrificed in some cases by surrendering to a dictator who would put an end to disorder. And sometimes dictatorships 9

Or. 26.66–67: καὶ γέγονε μία ἁρμονία πολιτείας ἅπαντας συγκεκλῃκυῖα. καὶ τὸ πρόσθεν δοκοῦν οὐ δυνατὸν εἶναι συμβῆναι συνῆλθεν ἐφ᾽ ὑμῶν, κράτος ἀρχῆς ἅμα καὶ φιλανθρωπίας, καὶ μεγάλης γε καὶ οὐκ φιλανθρωπίας ἄρχειν ἐγκρατεῖς. οὕτω δὴ καθαραὶ μὲν φρουρῶν πόλεις, μόραι δὲ καὶ ἶλαι ἀποχρῶσιν ἐθνῶν ὅλων εἶναι φυλακὴ, καὶ οὐδ᾽ αὐταὶ κατὰ τὰς πόλεις ἑκάστῳ τῶν γενῶν πολλαὶ ἱδρυμέναι, ἀλλ᾽ ἐν ἀριθμῷ τῶν ἄλλων ἐνεσπαρμέναι ταῖς χώραις· ὥστε πολλὰ τῶν ἐθνῶν ἀγνοεῖν ὅπου ποτ᾽ ἐστὶν αὐτοῖς ἡ φρουρά. εἰ δέ που πόλις δι᾽ ὑπερβολὴν μεγέθους ὑπερῆρκε τὸ δύνασθαι σωφρονεῖν καθ᾽ αὑτὴν, οὐδὲ τούτοις ἐφθονήσατε τῶν ἐπιστησομένων τε καὶ διαφυλαξόντων. 10 This is the opinion of J. H. Oliver, “The ruling power. A study of the Roman Empire in the second century after Christ through the Roman oration of Aelius Aristides”, Transactions of the American Philological Association 43 (1953), 871–953; 981–1003, p. 932 and R. Klein in P. Aelii Aristidis Orationem EIS RWMHN edidit, transtulit atque notis instruxit R. Klein (Darmstadt 1983), p. 94 n. 79. 11 Dio Chrysostomus 32.71–72 with reference to which P. Desideri, Dione di Prusa. Un intellettuale greco nell’impero romano (Messina-Firenze 1978), 97–110, who believes these events probably occurred under Vespasian. 12 Desideri 2007, op. cit. (n. 4), 21. 13 For the dating and circumstances under which the various orations were composed, see Behr 1981–1986, op. cit. (n. 8), footnotes passim, and C. Jones, “Elio Aristide e i primi anni di Antonino Pio”, in Desideri-Fontanella (eds.) 2013, op. cit. (n. 7), 39–67, pp. 55–63.

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allowed cities to grow in grandeur and public works, while factions have only ever destroyed them (§§ 20–21). And he continues: You are proud of the fact that you are free and you praise your democracy so much that you would not even accept immortality unless someone would allow you to keep this form of government. Yet how is it not unreasonable for you to pay democracy such honor, but to be unwilling to realize that you are mocking it, and if someone would make it into a monarchy, for you to be angry, yet for you willingly to abet a situation which has been proved worse than monarchy by all the arguments which I have enumerated; and for you not even to be able to calculate that if things continue in this fashion, it is quite possible that you will be in danger of being deprived of this apparent liberty (τῆς δοκούσης ταύτης ἐλευθερίας)? And if you do not voluntary heed this advice, another will come who will forcibly save you, since, as a rule, rulers are neither ignorant of such behavior nor disregard it. Therefore if for no other reason, then for the sake of being free and doing what you wish, abandon this present conduct so that you may not suffer anxieties which will be as great as your present audacity, and so that you may not lose your ancient source of pride. (Or. 24.22).14

This is the passage where Aristides explicitly refers to the danger of Roman military action, but even in other passages of this speech (for e. g. §§ 30–31; 43)15 the orator urges his hearers not to ruin the advantages that the Roman empire ensures: But now what cause is there for faction, or what lack of opportunity for a pleasant life? Is not all the earth united, is there not one emperor and common laws for all and is there not as much freedom as one wishes, to engage in politics and to keep silent, and to travel and to remain at home? (Or. 24.31).16

The opportunity to safely do as one pleases, even in a civitas libera17 like Rhodes, was evidently heavily conditioned by the fact that there should be ‘one emperor and common laws for all’; but Rhodes knew well by firsthand experience what it meant to lose even this relative liberty, seeing as its status of free city had been first revoked and then re-established by the emperor Claudius18 and later by Vespasian 14

15 16 17

18

Or. 24.22: Ὑμεῖς τοίνυν σεμνύνεσθε ὡς ὄντες ἐλεύθεροι καὶ τὴν δημοκρατίαν οὕτως ἐπαινεῖτε ὥστε μηδ᾽ ἂν ἀθάνατοι δέξαισθε γενέσθαι, εἰ μή τις ὑμᾶς ἐπὶ ταύτης ἐάσει μένειν τῆς πολιτείας. καίτοι πῶς οὐκ ἄλογον αὐτὴν μὲν οὕτω τιμᾶν, ταύτῃ δ᾽ ἐπηρεάζοντας μὴ θέλειν συνεῖναι, καὶ μοναρχίαν μὲν εἴ τις κατασκευάζοιτο, πικρῶς ἂν ἔχειν, ὃ δὲ τούτου τοσούτοις ὅσοις εἶπον δέδεικται χαλεπώτερον, τοῦτ᾽ αὔξειν ἑκόντας, καὶ μηδ᾽ ἐκεῖνο δύνασθαι λογίσασθαι ὡς οὐκ ἔστιν ὅπως, εἰ ταῦθ᾽ οὕτω πρόεισιν, οὐ κινδυνεύσετ᾽ ἀποστερηθῆναι τῆς δοκούσης ταύτης ἐλευθερίας· κἂν μὴ ἑκόντες ἐπιστρέψητε, ἄλλος ἀφίξεται ὅστις ὑμᾶς σώσει πρὸς βίαν. ὡς οὔτ᾽ ἀγνοεῖν τὰ τοιαῦτα τοῖς ἄρχουσι θεσμὸς οὔτ᾽ ἐν μηδενὶ ποιεῖσθαι λόγῳ. ὥστε εἰ μηδενὸς ἄλλου χάριν, τοῦ γ᾽ ὄντες ἐλεύθεροι ποιεῖν ὅ τι βούλεσθε, τῶν νυνὶ τούτων ἀπόστητε, ἵνα μὴ φοβῆσθε ἅμα ὅσον νῦν θαρρεῖτε καὶ μὴ φιλοτιμίαν ἀρχαίαν ἀποβάλητε. As in Concerning concord (Or. 23, cf. e.g. sects 72–74; 78–79). Or. 24.31: νῦν δὲ τίς ἢ στάσεως ἀφορμὴ, ἢ ῥᾳστώνης οὐκ ἐξουσία; οὐ κοινὴ μὲν ἅπασα γῆ, βασιλεὺς δὲ εἷς, νόμοι δὲ κοινοὶ πᾶσι, πολιτεύεσθαι δὲ καὶ σιωπᾶν καὶ ἀπαίρειν καὶ μένειν ἄδεια ὁπόσην τις βούλεται; On the condition of civitas libera foederata o sine foedere, whose autonomy, which was naturally ‘relative’, was sanctioned or disallowed by a treaty, cf. M. Talamanca, Lineamenti di storia del diritto romano (Milano 1989), 506–510 and V. Marotta, Conflitti politici cittadini e governo provinciale (Napoli 2004), 17–23 with footnotes and bibliography. D. Magie, The Roman rule in Asia Minor to the end of third century after Christ, 2 volumes (New York 1975), 1406 n. 24.

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(and re-established again by Domitian).19 Aristides’ warning was therefore abundantly explicit. But let us examine another passage from the work of our misian rhetor which is particularly interesting because the Romans’ use of force is spoken of not as a deterrent to ‘dangerous’ Greek behavior, but rather as a confirmation of imperial ‘omnipotence’. This is a passage from A letter to the emperors concerning Smyrna (Or. 19 Keil, §§ 9–10). Appealing to Marcus Aurelius and Commodus to send aid to Smyrna which had been destroyed by an earthquake (probably in 177 A. D.), Aristides makes reference to the greatness of imperial power, such that when an emperor (Domitian) had desired the extinction of the Nasamones (an African tribe), they were immediately exterminated. Therefore it would be sufficient for the emperors to wish now, as they had always done, that Smyrna should exist. In the past, they had restored cities of Italy which had long lain in ruins while Smyrna flourished: as emperors had earlier adorned it with temples, they were now called on to save it completely.20 Obviously for a Greek, the extermination of a barbarian tribe was not only an uncondemnable act, but was in some way the duty of the Roman government. But this passage from A letter to the emperors concerning Smyrna also underlines the concept that the power to cause a city in ruins to rise again belonged to those who had the power to destroy an entire people group. 2. THE GREEK PAST AND THE ROMAN PRESENT FOR GREEKS In §§ 93–99 of the speech To Rome, not only do we find an outline of various positive aspects which, according to Aristides, depict the situation of Greek cities under the empire; these advantages are then contrasted with a picture of the past which should cause the present ‘bliss’ to stand out all the more. First of all, the Roman empire is different from the previous ones, the Persian and Macedonian empires which Aristides has already spoken of: it is presented as a federation of cities, among which Ionian cities, finally free from ‘garrisons and satraps’,21 now distin19 Desideri 1978, op. cit. (n. 11), 110–111 and n. 7 p. 168. 20 Or. 19.9–10: ὅταν γε μὴν ἐνθυμηθῶ πρός ἐμαυτὸν ὅτι τῶν πάλαι τις αὐτοκρατόρων οὐ τῆς ὑμετέρας οἰκίας, μηδὲ γὰρ εἴη τοῦτό γε, οὐδὲ γένοιτ᾽ ἂν ὑφ᾽ ὑμῶν οὐδενὸς, ἀλλά τις τῶν πρότερον πεττεύων, ὡς λέγεται, μεταξὺ παρεφθέγξατο, μὴ βούλεσθαι Νασαμῶνας εἶναι, ἔπειτα ἀπώλοντο οἱ Νασαμῶνες, οἶμαι περί γε ὑμῶν εἰκότως ἂν ἐλπίζειν ὅτι σπουδάζοντες καὶ τοῖς ὑμετέροις αὐτῶν ἤθεσι χρώμενοι, καὶ τοσοῦτον μόνον εἰπόντες καὶ προδείξαντες ὅτι βούλεσθε Σμύρναν εἶναι, ταχέως ἅπασιν ἡμῖν ὃ ποθοῦμεν δείξετε. ἔτι δὲ οὐκ ἀλλοτρίοις χρῶμαι παραδείγμασιν, ἀλλ᾽ ὑμῶν αὐτῶν, ὅσην τῶν ἐν Ἰταλίᾳ πόλεων ἐπιμέλειαν ἐποιήσασθε ὥστε ἀναλαβεῖν αὐτὰς τοῖς ἅπασιν. ἐκείνας μὲν τοίνυν πάλαι κεκμηκυίας ἀνεκτήσασθε, Σμύρναν δὲ ἀρτίως μὲν ἀνθοῦσαν, ἀρτίως δὲ καταρρυεῖσαν εἰς πόλεων ἀριθμὸν αὖθις καταστήσατε, πρότερον μὲν τὰ ἱερὰ κοσμήσαντες αὐτῆς, νυνὶ δὲ τὸ πᾶν σχῆμα σώσαντες. 21 Or. 26.94–95: νῦν ἅπασαι μὲν αἱ Ἑλληνικαὶ πόλεις ἐφ᾽ ὑμῶν ἀνέχουσι καὶ τὰ ἐν αὐταῖς ἀναθήματα καὶ τέχναι καὶ κόσμοι πάντες ὑμῖν ἔχουσι φιλοτιμίαν, ὥσπερ ἐν προαστίῳ κόσμος· ἐκπεπλήρωνται δὲ ἀκταί τε παράλιοι καὶ μεσόγειαι πόλεσι, ταῖς μὲν οἰκισθεί-

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guish themselves in prosperity and splendor. After contrasting the Roman present of the Greek cities in Asia Minor and the past when they were subject to other dominations, Aristides reminds his listeners of the past ‘rivalries’ between Greek cities and the condition of infirmity which prevailed over the whole inhabited world before the coming of the Romans (evident reminiscences of the history of Greek hegemonies as expressed in preceding §§ 40–57); instead, at present these cities flourish and compete with one another only in beauty and riches.22 And not only in these aspects has the Greek situation turned around with respect to the past, but even in that Romans now care for and protect those who once instructed them, and grant those who once exercised true power ‘freedom and autonomy’23 (a formula which, as the Greeks well knew, had been used from the peace of Antalcidas until Flamininus’ proclamation of the freedom of Greece in 196 B. C. in various declarations which actually sanctioned the affirmation of the Persian, then Macedonian, and finally Roman influence over Greece).24 Thus, in this assessment of past and present, Aristides is not silent on the nostalgic aspects of Greek history (a past cultural hegemony and true political autonomy); it is as if he wished implicitly to evaluate gains and losses due to Roman domination and reflect on which outweighed the other. In fact, here as in other passages from the works of Aelius Aristides, the Greek past which is recalled by the author for the purpose of contrasting it with the well-being of the Roman present, actually seems to outweigh it, in that the description presented seems more likely to arouse nostalgia than denunciation. For example, in The Smyrnaean oration (I) (Or. 17 Keil) pronounced by Aristides in honor of the governor of Asia (probably P. Cluvius Maximus Paullinus in 157 A. D.) come to the assizes held in the city in March for the feast days of Dionysius, the orator goes over the history of the city only in his opening paragraphs (§§ 2–6), going on to say that he does not wish to dwell on it any further because the glory of Smyrna lies not in the past, but shines forth in the present (§ 7).25 In the rest σαις, ταῖς δὲ αὐξηθείσαις ἐφ᾽ ὑμῶν τε καὶ ὑφ᾽ ὑμῶν. Ἰωνία δὲ ἡ περιμάχητος ἐλευθερωθεῖσα φρουρῶν καὶ σατραπῶν πρόκειται πᾶσι κάλλους ἡγεμών, ὅσον πρόσθεν ἐδόκει τῶν ἄλλων ὑπεραίρειν γενῶν χάριτι καὶ κόσμῳ, τοσοῦτον νῦν ἐπιδεδωκυῖα αὐτὴ παρ᾽ αὑτήν. ἡ δὲ σεμνὴ καὶ μεγάλη κατ᾽ Αἴγυπτον Ἀλεξάνδρου πόλις ἐγκαλλώπισμα τῆς ὑμετέρας γέγονεν ἡγεμονίας, ὥσπερ γυναικὸς πλουσίας ὅρμος ἢ ψέλιον ἐν πολλοῖς τοῖς ἄλλοις κτήμασι. 22 Or. 26.97: καὶ αἱ μὲν ἄλλαι πᾶσαι φιλονικίαι τὰς πόλεις ἐπιλελοίπασιν, μία δὲ αὕτη κατέχει πάσας ἔρις, ὅπως ὅτι καλλίστη καὶ ἡδίστη αὐτὴ ἑκάστη φανεῖται. πάντα δὲ μεστὰ γυμνασίων, κρηνῶν, προπυλαίων, νεῶν, δημιουργιῶν, διδασκαλείων, ἐπιστημόνως τε ἔξεστιν εἰπεῖν οἷον πεπονηκυῖαν ἐξ ἀρχῆς ἀνακεκομίσθαι τὴν οἰκουμένην. 23 Or. 26.96: διατελεῖτε δὲ τῶν μὲν Ἑλλήνων ὥσπερ τροφέων ἐπιμελόμενοι, χεῖρά τε ὑπερέχοντες καὶ οἷον κειμένους ἀνιστάντες, τοὺς μὲν ἀρίστους καὶ πάλαι ἡγεμόνας ἐλευθέρους καὶ αὐτονόμους ἀφιέντες αὐτῶν, τῶν δ᾽ ἄλλων μετρίως καὶ κατὰ πολλὴν φειδώ τε καὶ πρόνοιαν ἐξηγούμενοι … 24 Cf. M. Sordi, “Introduzione: dalla ‘koinè eirene’ alla ‘pax Romana’”, in Contributi dell’Istituto di Storia antica dell’Univ. del Sacro Cuore di Milano 11 (1985), 3–16; Eadem, “Panellenismo e ‘koine eirene’”, in S. Settis (ed.), I Greci 2, III: Una storia greca. Trasformazioni (Torino 1998), 5–20, with sources and bibliography. 25 Or. 17.7: … ἀλλὰ τί δεῖ περὶ ταῦτα τρίβεσθαι; αἷς μὲν γάρ ἐστι τῶν πόλεων ἐν μύθοις ἢ

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of the discourse (§§ 9–22) he leads listeners on a guided tour as it were, of the city’s splendor, exalting the architectural and artistic grandeur and so confirming the description of the Greek cities of Asia found in To Rome. Yet before dismissing the past, and after pointing out the Athenian origin of the population from which its citizens had inherited both a refined lifestyle and the bravery in battle which brought them numerous victories over enemies, Aristides speaks in § 7 of the help which Smyrna lent Rome26 among others of the city’s glorious exploits, evidently an implicit allusion to the support offered in 190 B. C. against Antiochus III of Syria and in 130 B. C. against Aristonicus, a pretender to the throne of Pergamum. The reference to these facts becomes explicit in the above-cited A letter to the emperors concerning Smyrna (Or. 19 Keil) in which Aristides reaffirms that the city ought to be saved, not only for its beauty, but also because of the favor which it has always shown toward Romans, as in the case of the wars against Antiochus and Aristonicus. In particular, Aristides speaks of the latter revolt, during which the city gave burial to a Roman general (P. Licinius Crassus Dives Mucianus who died after a defeat near Leucae) and furnished the Roman army with the clothes they lacked (§ 11).27 These two episodes of the past are recalled to confirm Smyrna’s present tie to Rome, yet at the same time they refer to a moment in which it was Smyrna, now in need of imperial help, which helped Rome. The lengthy discourse Concerning concord (Or. 23 Keil) was addressed to the koinon of Asia which gathered in Pergamum in January of 167 A. D. This speech aims at removing discord from the main cities of the province, in particular the metropolises of Ephesus, Smyrna and Pergamum, in constant competition with one another for titles and tributes from Rome which might in some way establish the superiority of one over the others. Aristides recalls the Greek past, particularly the relationships between Athens, Sparta and Thebes (§§ 42–51), to demonstrate how harmony between the first two led Greece to triumph against the great Persian empire, while discord between them and later also with Thebes forced Greece to submit to Philip and later (omitting Alexander, writes Aristides) to Antipater. At that point all of the glorious past vanished, like water on the ground, until little remained of ancient Greece – even though its present governors, by their virtue have managed

26 27

διηγήσεσιν ἡ φιλοτιμία, εἰς ταῦτα εἰκὸς ἀναχωρεῖν, ἥτις δὲ εὐθὺς ὀφθεῖσα χειροῦται καὶ οὐκ ἐᾷ ζητεῖν τὰ ἀρχαῖα, τί δεῖ ταύτην σεμνύνειν ἀπὸ τῶν παρελθόντων, ἀλλ᾽ οὐ περιηγεῖσθαι [καθάπερ οἱ τῆς χειρὸς ἔχοντες], μάρτυρα τὸν θεατὴν τῶν λόγων ποιούμενον; Or. 17.7: πολλοὺς δ᾽ ἄν τις αὐτῆς ἔχοι λέγειν ἀγῶνας καὶ ἄλλους, καὶ δὴ τοὺς τελευταίους τοὺς ὑπὲρ ὑμῶν καὶ σὺν ὑμῖν ἐν παντὶ τῷ παραστάντι πολλῆς τινος ἔργον σχολῆς διηγήσασθαι. Or. 19.11: ἀξία δὲ οὐ μόνον τῆς ὄψεως χάριν ἡ πόλις σωθῆναι, ἀλλὰ καὶ τῆς εὐνοίας ἣν παρὰ πάντα χρόνον εἰς ὑμᾶς παρέσχετο, συναραμένη μὲν τοῦ πρὸς Ἀντίοχον πολέμου, συναραμένη δὲ τοῦ πρὸς Ἀριστόνικον, πολιορκίας τε ὑπομείνασα καὶ μάχας οὐ φαύλας ἀγωνισαμένη, ὧν ἔτι νῦν ἐν πύλαις ἦν αὐτῇ τὰ ὑπομνήματα. ἔτι δὲ ἐσθῆτος δεῆσαν ὑμετέρῳ στρατοπέδῳ καὶ τοῦ στρατηγοῦ διεφθαρμένου τὸν μὲν στρατηγὸν κομίσαντες εἰς τὴν πόλιν θάπτουσιν εἴσω τῶν νῦν πυλῶν, πρὸς δὲ τοὺς στρατιώτας τοὺς χιτῶνας ἐνείμαντο ἀνὴρ ἀνδρὶ δούς.

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to restore its splendor (§ 51).28 This oration seems to take up the theme developed in To Rome, acclaiming the beneficial presence of the Roman empire, which saved Greek cities from the ruin to which they would have driven themselves. However, the topic of this discourse itself shows what was really happening behind the scenes: it denounces the fact that discord has not actually ceased, in contrast with the optimistic observation in § 97 of To Rome (‘All other rivalries are gone from the city and the only contention that now occupies each is how to appear as beautiful and pleasant as possible’). Furthermore, unlike the discourse To Rome, Concerning concord deals not only with the failure of the Greek hegemony but above all lauds (see for e. g. § 43) the previous wars against the Persian ‘barbarians’. It is well known how Greek authors from the second century A. D. loved to dwell on this period of Greek history in their works, and this classicizing tendency has given rise to several modern interpretations which reach beyond the scope of this study.29 However, it is particularly significant that in the opening paragraphs of the discourse (§§ 2–3), in justifying his choice of theme, Aristides observes that of the only two subjects worthy of an orator’s address, that is, harmony between citizens and war against the barbarians, only the first could now be chosen since the gods and the emperors had brought peace to the entire inhabited world.30 Evidently Aristides must have been won over by the temptation to take up a theme which, even though declared useless at present, greatly celebrated the glory of Hellenic history. In reference to this subject matter, Plutarch had written in his Precepts of Statecraft, advising politicians to avoid it, because it was inappropriate and dangerous for Roman Greece, in that it might excite in the masses a futile wish to emulate the exploits of their forefathers (Mor. 814 28

29

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Or. 23.51: ὡς δ᾽ ἐγένοντο τρεῖς αἱ πόλεις καὶ τῶν Ἑλλήνων οἱ μὲν ἠττίκιζον, οἱ δ᾽ ἐλακώνιζον, οἱ δὲ Θηβαίους ἐθαύμαζον, κοινὸν δὲ οὐδὲν ἦν οὐδὲ γνώμῃ καὶ λογισμοῖς διοικούμενον, εὐθὺς μὲν πόλεμοι Φωκικοὶ καὶ περὶ τὴν Πυλαίαν ταραχαὶ καὶ πράγματα αἰσχύνην ἔχοντα ἀλλήλοις ἐπέβαλλεν, ἡ δὲ τελευταία μοῖρα τῶν Ἑλλήνων ἤδη Φίλιππος ἡγεμὼν καὶ Ἀντίπατρος κύριος. τὸν γὰρ Ἀλέξανδρον ὑπερβήσομαι. πάντα δὲ ἐκεῖνα ὥσπερ ὕδωρ κατὰ γῆς ἔδυ, μικρὸν δὲ λείψανον τῆς Ἑλλάδος εἰς ὑμᾶς ἀγαπητῶς ἀφίκετο ἀρετῇ τῶν νῦν ἀρχόντων ἀναληφθέν. Cf. E.L. Bowie, “Greeks and their past in Second Sophistic”, Past and Present 46 (1970), 3–41, now in Studies in Ancient Society, reprinted in M. Finley (London-Boston 1974), 166–209; S. Swain, Hellenism and empire. Language, classicism and power in the Greek world, A. D. 50– 250 (Oxford 1996), 65–100; S. Goldhill, “Introduction. Setting an agenda: ‘Everything is Greece for the wise’”, in S. Goldhill (ed.), Being Greek under Rome: Cultural identity, the Second Sophistic, and the development of empire (Cambridge 2001), 8. Or. 23.2–3: ἤδη δέ τις (Isocrates 4.15 ff.) τῶν ἐλλογίμων καὶ τῶν παλαιῶν σοφιστῶν ἐσεμνύνατο ἐπ᾽ ἀρχῇ τοῦ συγγράμματος ὡς αὐτός γε τοιοῦτον οὐδὲν ποιήσων οὐδὲ κομψευσόμενος, ἀλλ᾽ ὑπὲρ δυοῖν τούτοιν διαλεξόμενος, τῆς τε πρὸς ἀλλήλους ὁμονοίας καὶ τοῦ πολέμου τοῦ πρὸς τοὺς βαρβάρους, [καὶ] μάλα γενναίαν, ὥς γ᾽ ἐμοὶ κριτῇ, καὶ προσήκουσαν τῶν λόγων ἐνστησάμενος τὴν ὑπόθεσιν. ἐγὼ δ᾽ ὑπὲρ μὲν τοῦ πολέμου τοῦ πρὸς τοὺς βαρβάρους οὐκέθ᾽ ὁρῶ καιρὸν λέγειν. ἀθρόαν γὰρ ἁπάντων δεδωκότων δίκην τοῖς τε θεοῖς καὶ τοῖς ἡγεμόσι μελήσειν οἶμαι, καὶ σὺν αὐτοῖς γε εἰπεῖν τοῖς θεοῖς οὐ πολὺν τὸν ἀγῶνα νομίζω γενήσεσθαι, ὁρῶν τῆς ἁπάσης οἰκουμένης καὶ τῆς ἤδη βεβαίως ἐχομένης μικρὸν μέρος τὸ νῦν ὑπ᾽ ἀνοίας ἀνθεστηκὸς, ὃ δὲ λοιπόν ἐστι, περὶ τῆς πρὸς ἀλλήλους ὁμονοίας [οὕτως] ὅπως ἂν οἷός τε ὦ διαλέξομαι.

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a). Yet Aristides, addressing the reality of discord among the Greek cities of Asia, recalls the past when Greece stood united against the Persians, and when, even though then lacking the peace which the Roman empire now ensures, at least they had a war to fight against the barbarians which was wholly justifiable, and would seem even preferable to the present state of discord reigning in Hellenic cities.31 And all the more since this discord is petty, lacking not only in reason, but also in ideals, as Aristides suggests later on in his speech (§§ 59–62); not only is it worse than the wars against the barbarians, but it almost exceeds the fratricidal wars between Greek cities: Ionian cities must consider that even though there were struggles between Spartans, Athenians and Thebans, and even though they were often unethical, at least they broke out over important matters, in that these cities fought for the leadership of Greece. Their conduct was surely not praiseworthy, but at least there was a reason behind it. But now, for what supremacy, or which harbors, or what allies could the cities of Ionia be said to be fighting amongst themselves? But as to present affairs and the order which now exists through our good fortune, who is such a child or who so senile that he does not know that a single city, which is first and greatest, holds all the earth beneath her sway, and one house leads everything, and according to law governors come to us annually, and they have been entrusted with the task of carrying out everything, both great and small, however they think best? (Or. 23.62).32

The Greeks themselves have been and continue to be the only party responsible for the discord which continues to afflict them, even under Roman domination. Rather than eliminating the endemic contentions in the Greek world, the Roman empire seems only to have imposed order, so eliminating the most ‘noble’, or rather least ignoble causes of these contentions. Therefore, the Greeks alone are guilty of ‘dreaming and fighting about a shadow’ and being unable to enjoy the ‘peace which 31

32

In fact, at the beginning of his commemoration of the Greek past, Aristides observes that while discord was wholly condemnable, there could be good reasons for being hostile toward people groups different from one’s own (Or. 23. 41). When he is through recounting history, he affirms (Or. 23. 52–55) that anyone who thinks his lesson is worthless because peace is now guaranteed under Rome, has forgotten that discord not only jeopardizes the waging of war, but is also the enemy of peace; it is therefore inconceivable that those who are grateful to present governors for protecting them from the evils of war should choose a vice worse than war, that is to say discord and factions: εἰ δ᾽ὅτι μηδεὶς νῦν πόλεμος [πάρεστι], φλυαρίαν τις ἡγεῖται ταῦτα, αὐτὸς ἀγνοεῖ ληρῶν· ἔχει γὰρ οὕτως, οἶμαι. ὁπόταν μὲν πόλεμος παρῇ, τοῖς τοῦ πολέμου πράγμασιν ἡ στάσις λυμαίνεται, εἰρήνης δ᾽ ὑπαρχούσης τοῖς τῆς εἰρήνης ἀγαθοῖς ἐχθρόν ἐστι. βλάπτειν μὲν γὰρ ἀεὶ πέφυκεν, ἡ δὲ βλάβη πρὸς τοὺς καιροὺς ἀπαντᾷ. πάντων δ᾽ ἀτοπώτατον τοῖς μὲν ἡγεμόσι χάριν μεγίστην ἔχειν, ὅτι τῶν τοῦ πολέμου κακῶν ἀπαθεῖς ὑμᾶς φυλάττουσιν, αὐτοὺς δὲ ὃ πολλῷ μεῖζον κακόν ἐστι τοῦ πολέμου, τοῦθ᾽ ἑκόντας αἱρεῖσθαι. (§§ 53–54). Or. 23.62: ἀλλὰ μὴν τά γε νυνὶ πράγματα καὶ τὸν καθεστηκότα ἀγαθῇ τύχῃ θεσμὸν τίς οὕτω παῖς ἐστιν ἢ πρεσβύτης ἔξω τοῦ φρονεῖν, ὅστις οὐκ οἶδεν ὡς μία μὲν πόλις ἡ πρώτη καὶ μεγίστη πᾶσαν ὑφ᾽ αὑτῇ τὴν γῆν ἔχει, εἷς δ᾽ οἶκος ἅπαντα ἐξηγεῖται, ἡγεμόνες δ᾽ ἡμῖν ἐκ νόμου φοιτῶσιν καθ᾽ ἕκαστον ἔτος, τούτοις δ᾽ ἅπαντα ἐπιτέτραπται καὶ μείζω καὶ ἐλάττω πράττειν, ὅπη ποτ᾽ ἂν αὐτοῖς δοκῇ βέλτιστον εἶναι; This passage is also quoted by P. Veyne, L’impero greco romano. Le radici del mondo globale (Milano 2007), 160 to demonstrate that ‘despite the prudent language of the orator, it is clear … that Aristides’ loyalism is fruit of his resignation’.

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they rightly create’ (§ 63).33 In fact, there is only one competition left open, which is that of servile cult toward Romans, in the attempt to receive titles and tributes which might in some way establish a superiority (which could now be only nominal) of one city over the others (§ 64).34 In contrast with the picture presented in To Rome, the Roman present for Greeks in the discourse Concerning Concord certainly does not appear rosier than their past. 3. ATHENS AND ROME: THE VITALITY OF THE GREEK PAST IN THE ROMAN PRESENT In one of his works, Aristides tries to conciliate this antithesis of the Greek past and the Roman present for Greeks by pointing out how Greek history, or rather several aspects of it, can be ‘saved’ within the Roman empire: in fact, the Panathenaikos (Or. 1 Keil)35 still sees the city of Athens and its history as a ‘protagonist’ within the Roman present. 33

34

35

Or. 23.63: τί οὖν μαθόντες εἰπέ μοι πράγματα ἡμῖν αὐτοῖς παρέχομεν καὶ ὀνειρώττομεν καὶ περὶ τῆς σκιᾶς μαχόμεθα καὶ παρὸν ἡμῖν τῆς ἡσυχίας ἀπολαύειν, ἣν οὗτοι καλῶς ποιοῦντες παρασκευάζουσι, τούτοις τε ἐνοχλοῦμεν οὐδὲν δεομένοις καὶ αὐτοὶ κακῶν ἐπισπάστων ἐπιθυμοῦμεν, ὥσπερ οὐκ ἔχοντες τοῖς ἀγαθοῖς ὅ τι χρησώμεθα; But cf. also To Rome 69 (with my comm.), where it is alleged that all wars previous to the imperial peace were fought in vain against shadows and now it is as if the cities had awoken from a dream: ἀντὶ δὲ ἀμφισβητήσεως ἀρχῆς τε καὶ πρωτείων, ὑφ᾽ ὧν ἅπαντες οἱ πρότερον συνερρήγνυντο πόλεμοι, οἱ μὲν ὥσπερ ὕδωρ ἀψοφητὶ ῥέον ἥδιστα ἡσυχάζουσιν, ἄσμενοι πόνων παυσάμενοι καὶ κακῶν, μετεγνωκότες ὡς ἄρα ἄλλως ἐσκιαμάχουν, … ὅπως δὲ εἰς τοῦτο ἀφίκοντο οὐκ ἔχουσιν εἰπεῖν, οὐδ᾽ ἴσασιν οὐδὲν πλὴν τὰ παρόντα θαυμάζειν, ἀλλὰ πεπόνθασιν οἷον οἱ ἀφυπνισθέντες καὶ ἀντὶ τῶν ὀνειράτων ὧν ἀρτίως ἑώρων ἐξαίφνης ταῦτα παρ ἰδόντες καὶ ἐν αὐτοῖς γενόμενοι (‘Peoples no longer struggle for empire and supremacy, because of which all previous wars have been engaged. Some people, like quietly running water, live voluntarily in peace, pleased to have put an end to troubles and misadventures, and aware of the fact that they had fought to no purpose against shadows. … They cannot say how they reached this state, and they can do nothing but marvel at it. They feel like a man who was dreaming a moment ago and suddenly wakes up to find himself immersed in a new reality’). In fact, the cities mix obstinacy with servile behavior, in trying to detain governors longer than they had established, and offering more services than required, without considering the fact that, even if they succeed in asserting themselves in these things, they must do all the governor decides just the same: Or. 23.64: τίς γὰρ οὐκ ἀμφιγνοήσειεν τὸν τρόπον, ὃν νῦν τοῖς ἡγεμόσι προσφερόμεθα; εὐνοϊκῶς μὲν γὰρ οἶμαι καὶ πιστῶς. τί δὲ οὔ; τίνες μὲν οὖν μᾶλλον ἡμῶν; ἀλλ᾽ ὁμιλοῦμέν γε αὐτοῖς οὐκ οἶδ᾽ ὅπως αὐθάδειαν τῇ κολακείᾳ κεραννύντες. ὁπόταν γὰρ πλείω μὲν ἕκαστοι θεραπεύειν αὐτοὺς ἀξιῶσιν ἢ ᾽κεῖνοι δέονται, χρόνον δὲ τάττωσιν ὅσον χρὴ μένειν παρ᾽ ἑαυτοῖς, ἀπειλοῦντες ὡς, εἰ μὴ πείθοιντο, οὐκ ἀνέξοιντο, πάντα δ᾽ ὑπισχνῶνται καὶ ἑκοῦσι καὶ ἄκουσιν ὑπηρετήσειν, χρῆσθαι δ᾽ αὐτοῖς μόνοις ἢ μάλιστά γε προστάττωσιν, κυρίως δὲ μὴ δεῖν οἴωνται ποιεῖν ὅ τι γιγνώσκοιεν, … Cf. K. Buralesis, “Arroganza e servilismo. La critica di Elio Aristide alle politiche greche nella ‘Provincia asia’”, in Desideri – Fontanella (eds.) 2013, op. cit. (n.7), 91–115. This eulogy of Athens was probably given by Aristides during the great Panathenaea celebrated in the city in 155 A. D. Together with themes shared by other city encomiums written by the orator (such as, for example, a description of the location of the city and its inhabitants), there

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Recent studies (essentially those by Suzanne Saïd and Estelle Oudot)36 have in fact shown very convincingly how Aristides performs a ‘Romanization’ of Athens’ history in the Panathenaikos, dictated by the fact that he is now speaking to a Greek city belonging to the empire: the past of Athens is reconsidered in the light of the present, and emphasis is laid on aspects which are not only ‘compatible’ but even yet to be encouraged in the Ecumene dominated by Rome. Thus, even though much space is devoted to narrating the ancient city’s ‘warfare’ activities (§§ 75–321), on the other hand the πραότης of Athenians toward all Greeks is emphasized, as well as their disinterested behavior, as if their hegemony was exercised solely to protect the interests of all Greece (for e. g. §§ 137;197; 228). This image of the Athenians is therefore much different from the one which emerges from Thucydides; in fact, it has been demonstrated37 that Aristides makes various changes in the presentation or even sequence of facts narrated by the historian, in the interests of highlighting the ‘philanthropic’ nature of the Athenian hegemony. Generally speaking, it can be observed that the merit of exempla is conferred on Athenian ventures, setting up the Athens of the past narrated in the Panathenaikos as the model of a hegemonic city which foreshadowed the Roman model recognized in the discourse To Rome. Thus, since the model is a type of Rome, it remains altogether in stride with the times.38 The vitality of the Athenian model is even more apparent in the fact that the Panathenaikos emphasizes above all the city’s cultural hegemony: by changing the theme ‘from politics to culture’, Aristides is not compelled to limit the victorious supremacy of Athens to a few historical facts about Hellas; rather, he can assert its universality and eternality which live on within the Roman Ecumene. Thus, for example in §§ 322 and 323, it is declared that the Athenians alone of all men have erected a trophy without shedding blood, not in defeating the Boeotians, Lacedemonians or Corinthians, but rather all those of their race, meaning by this not only Greeks as opposed to barbarians, but the whole human race. Thus they have obtained a victory which is different even from the exceptional victory of Marathon, a victory which continues even today (and here is the difference), because all cities and peoples have turned to them, to their way of life and language.39 is a long excursus on past war enterprises that brought glory to Athens, which occupies the greater part of the oration. 36 In particular S. Saïd, ‘The rewriting of the Athenian past: from Isocrates to Aelius Aristides’, in D. Konstan-S. Saïd (eds.), Greeks on Greekness. Viewing the Greek past under the Roman Empire (Cambridge 2006), 47–60; E. Oudot, “Au commencement était Athènes. Le Panathénaïque d’Aelius Aristides ou l’histoire abolie”, Ktema 31 (2006), 227–238; Eadem, “Aelius Aristides and Thucydides: some remarks about the Panathenaic oration”, in Harris–Holmes (eds.) 2008, op. cit. (n. 7), 31–49. But cf. also G. W. Bowersock, “Elio Aristide tra Atene e Roma”, in Desideri – Fontanella (eds.) 2013, op. cit. (n.7), 25–38. 37 In the studies cited in the previous footnote. 38 See, for example, Or. 1. 227: Athens ‘did not hold its empire from its enslavement of the cities, but from its liberation of them’, just as Rome reigns over ‘free men’ (Or. 26.36); and again Or. 1. 262 where it is written that Athenians ‘not only thought that they must save the Greeks from their enemies, but also that they must reconcile them when they were sick with factions at home’, foreshadowing Rome’s ‘pacifying’ function within the Hellenic world recognized by Aristides in Or. 26. 39 Or. 1.322–323: μόνοι γὰρ ἁπάντων ἀνθρώπων, τὸ λεγόμενον δὴ τοῦτο, ἀναίμακτον τρό-

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The universality attributed to this culture and language40 is expressed through images which in To Rome as well as in Panegyric in Cyzicus (Or. 27 Keil)41 are exclusively pertinent to the political power of Rome: it is as if Aristides wished to outline two different spheres of influence in which each city held its hegemony. Thus it is said of Rome: … Neither the sea, nor huge distances of land prevent one from being a Roman citizen, nor is there, in this respect, any longer whatsoever difference between Asia and Europe; now all opportunities are available to all: no one who is worthy of a post of command or trust is considered a foreigner … (Or. 26.60).42 But these alone (the Romans) of all people have set out their advantages to be shared like prizes by the best people. And it makes no difference whether one lives in Europe, Asia, or Africa, nor is there any restrictive boundary, whether the Tanais, or lake Maeotis, or the island Atlantis, or whatever place one would mention. But all men and all races are connected with the city, and all have the right to exercise due authority (Or. 27.32).43

However, in the Panathenaikos, this political universality of Rome is shifted to the cultural realm and is attributed to Athens: And the Pillars of Heracles are no barrier, nor is this power limited by the hills of Africa, nor again by the Bosporus, whichever Bosporus you wish, nor by the passes of Syria and Cilicia. But emulation of your wisdom and way of life has spread over every land by some divine fortune, and all men have come to believe that this single dialect is the common speech of the

40 41

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παιον ἐστήσατε, οὐκ ἀπὸ Βοιωτῶν οὐδ’ ἀπὸ Λακεδαιμονίων οὐδὲ Κορινθίων, ἀλλ’ ἀπὸ τῶν ὁμοφύλων ἁπάντων, λέγω δὲ οὐχ ὡς ἄν τις ῞Ελληνας προσείποι πρὸς βαρβάρους ἀντιδιαιρούμενος, ἀλλ’ ἀπὸ τοῦ κοινοῦ γένους τῶν ἀνθρώπων, καὶ νίκην ἀνείλεσθε ἔντιμον καὶ μεγάλην κατὰ παντὸς τοῦ χρόνου, οὐ κατὰ τὴν ἐν Τανάγρᾳ μάχην τὴν ἀμφισβητήσιμον οὐδὲ μὰ Δία κατὰ τὴν ἐν Μαραθῶνι τὴν τοσοῦτον νικῶσαν, ἀλλ’ ὡς ἀληθῶς τὴν πρέπουσαν ἀνθρώπῳ καὶ διηνεκῆ καὶ ἣν Διὸς παῖδα προσειπεῖν εὐσεβές. ἅπασαι γὰρ αἱ πόλεις καὶ πάντα τὰ τῶν ἀνθρώπων γένη πρὸς ὑμᾶς καὶ τὴν ὑμετέραν δίαιταν καὶ φωνὴν ἀπέκλινε. καὶ οὐ φρουραῖς ἐγκαθεστηκυίαις ἡ δύναμις τῆς πόλεως συνέχεται, ἀλλὰ πάντων ἐξεπίτηδες τὰ ὑμέτερα ᾑρημένων καὶ εἰσποιούντων ἑαυτοὺς ὡς δυνατὸν τῇ πόλει, συνευχομένων καὶ παισὶ καὶ ἑαυτοῖς τοῦ παρ’ ὑμῖν καλοῦ μεταλαβεῖν· That is, to the Attican dialect perceived as a distinctive sign of literary production of the socalled ‘Second Sophistic’: G. Anderson, The second sophistic: a cultural phenomenon in the Roman empire (London 1993), 86–100, Swain 1996, op. cit. (n. 29), 17–64. In 161 A. D. an earthquake damaged Hadrian’s temple in Cyzicus. Conceived by Hadrian himself, the temple had been completed by Antoninus Pius. Its restoration after the earthquake was finished in 166 A. D. and in September the feast days during which Aristides pronounced this panegyric were celebrated there. Or. 26.60: καὶ οὔτε θάλαττα διείργει τὸ μὴ εἶναι πολίτην οὔτε πλῆθος τὰς ἐν μέσῳ χώρας, οὐδ᾽ Ἀσία καὶ Εὐρώπη διῄρηται ἐνταῦθα· πρόκειται δ᾽ ἐν μέσῳ πᾶσι πάντα· ξένος δ᾽ οὐδεὶς ὅστις ἀρχῆς ἢ πίστεως ἄξιος … Or. 27.32: μόνοι δὲ πάντων οὗτοι κοινὰ τἀγαθὰ προὔθεσαν εἰς μέσον, ὥσπερ ἆθλα τοῖς βελτίστοις, καὶ οὔτε Εὐρώπην ἢ Ἀσίαν ἢ Λιβύην οἰκεῖν διαφέρει οὔτε ἔστιν ὅρος διείργων οὐδεὶς, οὐ Τάναϊς, οὐ λίμνη Μαιῶτις, οὐκ Ἀτλαντὶς νῆσος, οὐχ ὅ τι εἴποι τις, ἀλλὰ πάντες ἄνθρωποι καὶ πάντα γένη προσήκει τῇ πόλει, καὶ πᾶσιν ἔξεστιν ἄρχειν τὰ γιγνόμενα.

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human race. And through you the whole of the inhabited world has come to speak the same tongue … (Or. 1.324–325).44 And again Formerly you saved those Greeks who sought refuge with you. But now you sustain simply all mankind and every race with the fairest of benefits, becoming the leaders of all education and wisdom and purifying all men everywhere (Or. 1.330).45

In the Panathenaikos (unlike To Rome)46, Aristides decisively claims Athens’ cultural superiority in the present, within the Roman empire, yet at the same time acknowledges that this supremacy is made possible, even guaranteed, by the political power of Rome, as can be demonstrated by the above-quoted passages from the encomium addressed to Rome, and as explicitly stated also in §§ 331–335 of the Panathenaikos. Below is only one of the most significant passages: The present empire of both land and sea (and may it be immortal) is not unwilling to adorn Athens as a teacher and foster father, but so great are its honors that now the only difference in the city’s condition is that it is not involved in troublesome affairs. But for the rest, it is almost as fortunate as in those times, when it held the empire of Greece, in respect to revenues, precedence, and the privileges conceded by all. (Or. 1.332).47

Yet once more Aristides does not hold back from referring to a past which may perhaps be ‘slightly’ rosier than the present, but in the following paragraph he recalls that following the glorious period of Greece in which Athens triumphed over Greeks and barbarians alike, it seemed under the Macedonian domination to have lost its privileged place, which has been restored once again in the present time (§ 333). Finally, considering the fortunes of Athens under the five empires which traditionally succeeded each other in worldwide hegemony (and one wishes there be no more, since the last is the Roman one which will hopefully last forever), Aristides points out that Athens was born during the consolidation of the Assyrian em44

45

46

47

Or. 1.324–325: καὶ οὔτε ‘Ηρακλέους στῆλαι κωλύουσιν, οὔτε Λιβύης κολωνοῖς ταῦτα ὁρίζεται οὐδ’ αὖ Βοσπόρῳ ὁποτέρῳ βούλει, οὐδὲ στενοῖς Συρίας καὶ Κιλικίας, ἀλλὰ πᾶσαν τὴν γῆν τύχῃ τινὶ θείᾳ ζῆλος ἐπέρχεται τῆς ὑμετέρας σοφίας καὶ συνηθείας, καὶ ταύτην μίαν φωνὴν κοινὴν ἅπαντες τοῦ γένους ἐνόμισαν, καὶ δι’ ὑμῶν ὁμόφωνος μὲν πᾶσα γέγονεν ἡ οἰκουμένη … Or. 1.330: πρότερον μὲν οὖν τοὺς καταφεύγοντας ἐφ’ ὑμᾶς τῶν ‘Ελλήνων διεσώζετε, νυνὶ δ’ ἀτεχνῶς πάντας ἀνθρώπους καὶ πάντα γένη τῇ καλλίστῃ τῶν εὐεργεσιῶν ἀνέχετε, ἡγεμόνες παιδείας καὶ σοφίας ἁπάσης γιγνόμενοι καὶ πάντας ἁπανταχοῦ καθαίροντες. The cultural supremacy of Athens is also recognized in §§ 96 and 101 of To Rome, but in both passages, and explicitly in § 101, Aristides clearly states that it is only a chronological attainment: ‘I believe that […] the city of Athens did in fact bring into being the civil lifestyle that we continue to enjoy today, however, this has been guaranteed and consolidated by you, who in coming second, as we say, are better than the first’. Or. 1.332: ἥ τε νῦν ἀρχὴ γῆς τε καὶ θαλάττης, εἴη δὲ ἀθάνατος, οὐκ ἀναίνεται τὰς ’Αθήνας μὴ οὐκ ἐν διδασκάλων καὶ τροφέων μέρει κοσμεῖν, ἀλλὰ τοσαύτη τῶν τιμῶν ἐστιν ἡ περιουσία ὥστε τοσοῦτον ἑτέρως ἡ πόλις πράττει τὰ νῦν, ὅσον οὐ πραγματεύεται. τὰ δὲ τῆς ἄλλης εὐδαιμονίας μικροῦ δεῖν παραπλήσιά ἐστιν αὐτῇ τοῖς ἐπ’ ἐκείνων τῶν χρόνων, ὅτ’ εἶχεν τῆς ‘Ελλάδος τὴν ἀρχὴν, καὶ προσόδων ἕνεκα καὶ προεδρίας καὶ τοῦ παρὰ πάντων συγκεχωρηκότος.

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pire, grew under the Medians, defeated the Persians, withstood and made out better than other populations under the Macedonians; but now under the one (sc. empire) at present existing, which is in every way the best and greatest, it (sc. Athens) has precedence over all the Greek race, and has fared in such a way that no one would readily wish for its old state instead of its present one. (Or. 1.335).48

It is the Roman empire, hopefully hailed as eternal, which guarantees the conditions that permit Athens to sustain its cultural influence, which is equally eternal. For this reason, in the city of Rome, and before an audience of prominent Roman citizens, Aristides pronounces a eulogy to Rome in the Greek language, ‘a language common to the whole human race’, in which he recognises to the Romans the right to govern, because it is this empire that ensures civil and cultural supremacy to the prominent citizens of Greek cities, as well as to the misian rhetor himself. 4. CONDICIO SINE QUA NON The surrender of political freedom for the Greek world and submission to Roman power are acceptable for Aristides on this one condition, without which the Roman present would prove to be worse than any experience in the Greek past. The fact that he considers it a requisite is manifest in the last oration we will consider, The Eleusinian Oration (Or. 22 Keil). This speech was addressed to the citizen’s council of Smyrna in 171 A. D., after the rhetor had learned of the devastation of Eleusis and the profaning of the mysteries (by a tribe of barbarians who had carried out raids in Greece). Running through a brief history of the mysteries from their origins to the present time, Aristides emphasizes the fact that they had never been violated in any war fought in Greece, but had always been respected by all, by ‘Philips, Alexanders, Antipaters’ (Or. 22. 8). And this was the only remaining emblem of past fortune and dignity, he continues in § 8, for the city and all of Greece. Battles on land and sea, laws, constitutions, lofty thoughts, various dialects, everything had passed away. Only the Mysteries had remained over time.49 Underlining the exceptional nature of this disgrace naturally serves to emphasize the wickedness of the profaners, as Aristides goes on to stress (§§ 2; 13). However, it is impossible to escape the feeling that the orator is making an insinuation here: what had never happened in all of history has now happened under the Roman empire, and this time it 48

49

Or. 1.335: ἀλλὰ μὴν πέντε μέν ἐστι μνήμη βασιλειῶν, μὴ γένοιτο δὲ πλειόνων· τούτων δ’ ἐπὶ μὲν τῆς ’Ασσυρίων τῆς πρεσβυτάτης αἱ πρῶται τῆς πόλεώς εἰσι πράξεις, καὶ ὅσα τῶν θείων, εἰς τοῦτον ἐμπίπτει τὸν χρόνον· ἐπὶ δὲ τῆς δευτέρας ᾔρετο ἡ πόλις· τὴν δὲ τρίτην διὰ τέλους ἐνίκησεν· ἐν δὲ τῇ τετάρτῃ μόνη μὲν ἀντέσχεν, ἄριστα δὲ ἀπήλλαξεν τῶν ἄλλων. ἐπὶ δὲ τῆς πάντα ἀρίστης καὶ μεγίστης τῆς νυνὶ καθεστηκυίας τὰ πρεσβεῖα παντὸς ἔχει τοῦ ‘Ελληνικοῦ καὶ πέπραγεν οὕτως, ὥστε μὴ ῥᾳδίως ἄν τινα αὐτῇ τἀρχαῖα ἀντὶ τῶν παρόντων συνεύξασθαι. Or. 22.8: … μόνον τοίνυν καὶ ὑπόμνημα τῆς παλαιᾶς εὐδαιμονίας ἅμα καὶ σεμνότητος ἐλείπετο τοῦτο τῇ τε πόλει καὶ τῇ Ἑλλάδι. ναυμαχίαι μὲν γὰρ καὶ πεζομαχίαι καὶ νόμοι καὶ πολιτεῖαι καὶ φρονήματα καὶ φωναὶ καὶ πάνθ᾽ ὡς εἰπεῖν ἐπέλιπεν, ἀντεῖχε δὲ τὰ μυστήρια.

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is not a state of well-being never before attained, but a disgrace unequalled in the past. Greece had long relinquished or been deprived of all that had, on one hand, made its history arduous, but at the same time had been the sign of ancient fortune and glory. In return, it had been allowed to keep only the Mysteries, a ritual which could not be ‘Romanized’, could not be exported, given that it could only be performed at Eleusis (§ 9).50 The profanation of the Mysteries seems to make the Greek past appear decidedly better than the present, to the point that in this passage of The Eleusinian Oration, Aristides appears to face the grievous weight of the fact that even Greek culture (καὶ φρονήματα καὶ φωναὶ) exists no more: if the Romans cannot guarantee the only ὑπόμνημα τῆς παλαιᾶς εὐδαιμονίας ἅμα καὶ σεμνότητος left to Greece, or even more explicitly, if the Romans cannot guarantee Greece safety and peace, is it worth having lost all that which characterized their history both in good and in evil? Therefore it is certainly significant that the oration closes in exhorting Greeks ‘who were children of old and now are truly children’ (ὦ πάλαι τε δὴ καὶ νῦν ὡς ἀληθῶς παῖδες Ἕλληνες) to stop passively looking on the disgrace, come to their senses and turn their attention to the salvation of Athens (§ 13).51 Aristides evidently recalls the anecdote narrated by Plato in Timaeus (Tim. 22 b) concerning the old Egyptian priest who said to Solon: ‘O Solon, Solon, you Greeks are always children and an old Greek does not exist’, explaining that unlike the ancient Egyptians, the Greeks did not conserve a memory of the events of long ago belonging to their tradition because of the floods that periodically upset their civilization. According to the story, he told Solon of a time long forgotten when Athens surpassed all men in its laws and the virtuousness of its citizens and even more, because it had destroyed the army of a great and powerful island called Atlantis, located beyond the Columns of Hercules, until the island together with the whole army of Athens were swallowed up by the Ocean in a single day and night (Tim. 22b-25d). The Egyptian priest reminded Solon of the glorious, but forgotten past of his city. Just the same, with this quotation from Plato’s Timaeus, Aristides seems to exhort Greeks to recover their self-awareness (Or. 22.13: οὐκ ὦ θαυμάσιοι νῦν γέ τι ἐν ὑμῶν αὐτῶν ἔσεσθε;) by remembering their history. In fact, at the end of the speech, there is no appeal to Roman power, but only to the Greeks to take back their identity, in which it seems that all hope for the salvation of Athens lies. Thus, The Eleusinian Oration demonstrates how the Greek past for Aristides is not only a theme of doubtful regret: when it becomes apparent that the Romans are unable to guarantee the peace and safety eulogized in To Rome, Greek identity haughtily re-emerges from the ‘hidden writing’ and constitutes not only a complementary aspect (as in the Panathenaikos) but an alternative to Roman power. 50

51

Or. 22.9: Πανηγύρεις τοίνυν αἱ μὲν ἄλλαι δι᾽ ἔτους πέμπτου καὶ τρίτου πληροῦνται, μόνη δὲ ἡ τῶν μυστηρίων παντὸς ἔτους ἐνίκησεν εἶναι. τὸ δὲ δὴ μέγιστον καὶ θειότατον, μόνην γὰρ ταύτην πανηγύρεων εἷς οἶκος συλλαβὼν εἶχε, καὶ ταυτὸν ἦν τῆς τε πόλεως πλήρωμα καὶ τοῦ Ἐλευσινίου. Or. 22.13: … ὦ πάλαι τε δὴ καὶ νῦν ὡς ἀληθῶς παῖδες Ἕλληνες, οἳ τοσούτου κακοῦ προσιόντος περιείδετε. οὐκ ὦ θαυμάσιοι νῦν γέ τι ἐν ὑμῶν αὐτῶν ἔσεσθε; οὐ τάς γε Ἀθήνας αὐτὰς περισώσετε;

GENERAL INDEX Acarnania 49, 54, 57 Achaean League 14, 17–19, 58, 60, 63, 129, 135, 137–138 Achaia 45–50, 53–55, 57, 61, 64 129–130, 135, 137, 144–145 Actium 44, 51, 130, 132, 150, 166 Aelius Aristides 27, 36, 162 – A Letter to the Emperors Concerning Smyrna 175, 177 – Concerning Concord 173, 177–180 – Panathenaikos 11, 180–185 – Panegyric in Cyzicus 182 – Eleusinian Oration 184–185 – Smyrnaean Oration 176 – To Rome 11, 28, 171–173, 175–176, 177–178, 180–182, 185 L. Aemilius Paullus 22–23, 152 Aeneas 158 Aetolia 57 – League 14 Aezanoi 82–86 Africa 47, 152, 155, 175, 182 Agrippa 44, 134, 165 Alba Longa 158 Alesia 156, 158 Alexander the Great 36, 87, 91, 124, 166, 177, 184 Alexander Polyhistor 150 Alexander Severus 93, 122 Alexandria 151, 173 – Troas 165 Amaseia 163 Amisos 70, 164–165 Ammianus Marcellinus 92, 159 Amphictyony of Pylae and Delphi (Delphic Amphictyony) 10, 51, 57, 108, 127–131, 133–134, 136–140, 142–145 Amynander, king of the Athamanes 14–15 Amyntas 79, 80–81 Anatolia 67–68, 70, 72, 74, 76, 80, 82–84, 85, 87, 89 Antalcidas 176 Antioch of Pisidia 79–81, 165, 167 Antiochos III (Antiochos the Great) 14–15, 18–19, 177 Antiochos IV Epiphanes 14, 109–110

Antipater 177, 184 Antonines 44, 167 Antoninus Pius 116–118, 142, 171 Antony 11, 20, 54, 72–74, 78, 130, 164–167 Aphrodisias 29 Aphrodite 74 – Anadyomene 165 Apollo 98 – At Olymos 85 – Pythian Apollo 132–133, 136, 138, 143 Apollodorus 55, Appian 162 – Civil Wars 24 Aragua of Phrygia 161 Arcadia 37 Archilochus 55 Argolis 55 Argos 54–55, 57, 59, 61–63 Aristodemos of Nysa 165 Aristonicus 177 Aristotle 149 Armenia 74, 164 Artemidoros of Ephesus 151, 165 Artemidoros Sandon 165 Artemis – of Aezanoi 83–84 – of Dura-Europos 96 – of Ephesos 29, 69, 166 – Leukophryna 80 Artemision 69, 166 Asclepeion of Cos 165 Asclepiades 157 Asia 9, 47, 49, 51, 53–54, 57, 60, 67, 69–70, 86, 147, 158, 177–179, 182 Asia Minor 9, 11, 15–16, 19, 21, 46, 67–69, 75, 78–83, 87, 89, 107, 120, 129, 161–167, 176 Asiarches 137 Asinius Pollio 150, 152, 155 Astymedes, Rhodian ambassador 19–22 Ateporix 164 Athenaios 156 Athens – Archaic 185 – Classical 149, 177, 180–183 – Hellenistic 153

188

General Index

– Roman 10, 19, 23–24, 51–52, 54–55, 57, 61–62, 64, 103, 109, 111–121, 123, 130, 151, 183–185 Atlantis 182, 185 athletic contest 97 Attalus I 82–84 Attalus III 68, 167 Atticus 25, 154 Augustus 9–10, 44–45, 47–53, 56–57, 63, 72–74, 80–81, 110, 128, 130, 134, 138, 140, 143–144, 150, 152, 158, 164–166 – Breviarium totius Imperii 49 Avidius Quietus 86 Baetica 47, 49 barbarian(s) 30, 34, 38, 40, 147–148, 156–158, 171, 175, 178–179, 181, 183–184 Bar Kokhba 161 Boeotia 57–59, 62–63, 130, 162, 181 – League 58–59 Boeotarches 137 Boethus of Tarse 164 Bithynia 16, 43, 47, 50, 54, 70, 74, 82, 164 Bosporus 182 Brutus 167 Caius Vibius Salutaris 29, 118 Caligula 9, 59, 64, 83 Callicrates of Leontium 17–19 Capitole 165 Carana 164 Caria 11, 19, 22, 85, 163 Carthage 152, 158, 166 Cassius Dio 9, 23–24, 43–50, 53–54, 64, 91 Celts 46, 156 Cicero 25, 153–155, 157 Cimbric Wars 156 civic – authorities (magistracy) 89, 139 – calendar 94 – coinage 95 – constitution 96 – elite(s) / civic oligarchies 8, 11, 33, 35, 54 – identity 27–28, 35 – priesthood 139 – religion(s) / cults 30–31, 68, 97 civil war(s) 23, 52, 69, 150, 158, 166–168 Claudius 46–47, 83, 135, 174 T. Claudius Novius 62, 136 Cleon of Gordiokome 166 Cleopatre 78, 164 Cleophantus, son of Aristeus 63–64 P. Clodius Pulcher 77

Colchis 164 colonies Athenian 109–110 – Greek 71 – Roman 8, 52, 80–81, 94, 98–99, 130, 142, 150, 165 Comana 70, 72–75, 82, 164, 166 Commodus 93, 118–119, 123, 175 consul(s) 98 – consulate 56 – consular fasti 154 – proconsul(s) 22, 86, 164, 167–169 Corinth (Corinthians) 8, 61, 141–142, 181 Crates of Mallos 151 Crassus 167 Cretarches 137 Crete 19, 47, 50 Critias 33 Colopene 164 Cyrene 47, 50 Cyzicus 165 Daedalus 157 Dalmatia Delphi (Delphians) 10, 61, 128, 130, 132–133, 137, 139–145, 162, 169 Delos 21–22 democracy 44, 174 democracies 31 Democritus 157 Demosthenes 27, 46 Diocletian 45, 48 Diodoros of Sicily 10, 147–156, 159 Dionysius of Halikarnassos 9, 36, 40 – Roman Antiquities 29, 31–33, 41, 150–152, 154, 159 Dio of Prusa 9, 29, 39–40, 162 – Olympian Oration 37–38, 40–41 – Peri Basileias 36–37 – Rhodian Oration 30, 38, 42 – To the Nicomedians on concord with the Nicaeans 41, 168 – To the people of Alexandria 173 Domitian 84, 132, 137, 140, 175 Dorians 63, 130 Drusilla 134 Dura–Europos 9–11, 91–101 Dux 51 – Ripae 96–97 Dyteutos 164 Ecumene 181 Edessa 91, 94

General Index Egypt (Egyptians) 9, 44, 109, 150, 157, 185 Eleusis 112, 115, 119, 124, 184–185 emperor(s) 7, 9–10, 36–37, 44–45, 47–49, 51–64, 69, 86, 91–92, 98, 103–110, 112–120, 122–124, 127–129, 131–135, 137–138, 141–145, 171, 174–175, 177, 178 Epaminondas of Acraephia 56–60, 62 Ephesos 29, 53, 69, 118, 166, 177 Epidaurus 59–60 Epirus 45, 54 Etholians 49 Euboea (Euboeans) 57, 59, 62–63, 130 Eudoxus 157 euergetism (evergetes) 14, 35, 96, 115, 139, 168 Eumenes II of Pergamum 15–17, 19, 21, 165 Euphrates 7, 10, 91, 93, 96–97, 101 Evander 158 Faunus 158 Feriale Duranum 93–94 Fimbria 165 Flavians 167 Fulvius Nobilior 153 Gaius (emperor) 55–56, 59, 61, 134–135 (see also Caligula) Gaius Caesar 56 Gaius Memmius 24, 60 Galatia (Galatian) 56, 74–77, 80–81, 164 Galli 46 Germani 46 Germania 47, 123 Geryon 156 Graeco-Roman – religion 40 – values 39 Greek – author(s) 11, 29, 39, 41, 161–162, 178 – city (cities, polis, poleis) 7–8, 13, 22–24, 27, 30, 32, 38, 41–42, 54, 67, 69, 72, 93, 95, 97, 110, 130, 151, 153, 164, 167, 169, 171, 175–179, 181, 184 – colonies 71 – culture (cultural legacy, cultural supremacy) 7, 9, 22–23, 51–52, 87, 185 – elite(s) 9, 11, 28, 30, 32, 39, 60, 135, 167–170, 172 – god(s) 7, 9, 42, 82 – identity 8, 27–30, 32, 34–35, 39–42, 53–55, 57, 64, 185 – intellectual(s) / scholars 147, 151–152, 155, 159

189

– literature 31, 36 – monarchies 16 – myth(s) 29, 148 – philosophy 36 – religion(s) / polis cults 28–30, 33–36, 38–42, 95 (see also civic religion) – tradition(s) 34–36, 42, 46, 53 Greekness 27–30, 32, 36, 40, 94–95 gymnasium (gymnasion) 75 Gyptis 158 Hadrian 7, 9–10, 64, 82–86, 92, 103–115, 120–121, 124, 137–138, 140–142 Hekataios of Miletos 149 Helladarches 128, 137–139, 145 Hellas 9–10, 38, 40–41, 45–47, 50, 52–53, 55, 57, 60–61, 63–65, 181 Hellenes 9, 53, 55, 57–59, 61–62, 64, 100, 157 – of Asia 53, 57 – of Bithynia 54 – Argives 55 Hellenism 10–11, 28, 30, 51–53, 64, 89, 95 Hellenistic – kings (dynasts, monarchs) 9, 13–15, 68, 74–75, 81, 87, 89, 108 – kingdoms 9, 11, 14 Hellenization 53, 75, 87, 89 Herakles 37, 116, 156–157, 182 – Herakles-Trajan 36 Heraion of Samos 165 Herodes Atticus 104, 113, 116–117, 119, 124–125 Herodotus 27, 147–149 Hesiod (Hesiodic corpus) 55, 149 Hispania 22, 47 Historia Augusta 43 Homer 36, 38, 55, 149, 157, 162 Hortensius 22 Hybreas 165 Hypata 138–140 Iberian(s) 164 Ilium 69, 165–166 Illyricum 47 imperial cult 9–10, 29, 103–105, 110–111, 118–121, 123, 125, 127, 129, 131, 133–134, 136, 137–138, 140, 142, 144–145 India 91 Ionians 130, 175, 179 Isocrates 27, 46 Isthmic Games 142 Italy 150, 157–158, 175

190

General Index

Juba of Mauretania 152 Julius Caesar 23–24, 53, 69, 72, 78, 81, 148, 150, 156–158, 164–165, 167, 169 Juvenal 155 Keltiké 47 Koinon 9–10, 14, 17–19, 53–54, 56–64, 127, 129, 130–133–135, 137–142, 144–145, 155, 177 Labienus 165 Lampsaque 165 Latinus 158 Laviansene 164 Leucae 177 Liguria 158 Livy 15, 43, 44, 154 Locria 57, 62, 63, 130 Lucan 159 Lucian 155, 162 Lucullus 53, 152–153, 155, 166–167 Lycia 19, 22, 161, 165 Lydians 163 Lykiarches 137 Lycurgus 157 Lysippos 166 Ma 14, 74 Macedonia 13–14, 27, 17–18, 46–47, 49–50, 55–56, 98, 100, 101, 152, 171, 175–176, 183, 184 – kings 14 – colony 9, 93, 98, 99, 100 – Third Macedonian War 17, 19 Macedoniarches 137 Maecenas 44 Maeotis 182 Magnesia ad Maeandrum 79 Magnesia ad Sypilum 166 Marathon 181 Marcus Aurelius 117–119, 175 Marmaria 143 Marseilles 158 Massilia, battle of 24 Megalopolis 164 Mela 159 Melampus 157 Men 38, 80 – Askaenus 79, 81–82 Menemachos of Sardes 167 Mesia 46, 56 Messenia 63 Moesia 55, 62, 135

mystery cults 93, 119, 184–185 Mithradates 70–71 Mithradates of Pergamon 165–166 Mithridates, king of Pontus 23, 69, 166 Musaeus 157 Mylasa 165 Myron 165 Mysian 163 Nabis of Sparta 14 Nannus, king 158 Narbonensis 49 Nasamones 175 Nepos 154 Nero 8, 45, 59–60, 63, 111, 128, 131, 140–141, 144, 169 Nicopolis 51, 57, 130–132, 136, 140 Numidia 47 Numitor 158 Ocean 91, 185 Octavius 8, 53–54 Oenopides 157 Olba 77–78, 82 oligarchisation 41, 130 Olympia 19, 61, 136 Orpheus 157 Palmyra 93–94, 97, 99, 100 Panachaean 62 Panaitios 151 Panhellenes 55, 58, 62–63 Pardalas 168 Parthian Empire 10, 91–95, 98–100 Patrae 51, 130 Pausanias 33–34, 52–54, 64, 82, 104, 109–111, 115, 141, 143–145 Peloponnese 55, 129 pepaidoumenos 34 Pergamon 13, 15, 80, 82–83, 166, 177 Perseus, king 17–20 Persian Empire 177 Pessinus 75–77, 80 Pharsalus 23 Pheidias 37–38, 40–41 Philip the Arab 161 Philip V of Macedonia 14 philokaisar 131, 136 philosopher(s) 34, 36–37, 122, 151 Phocia, Phocians 57, 59, 62–63, 130 Phrygia (Phrygians) 75, 82, 88, 161, 163 Pillars of Heracles 182 Plato 46, 124, 157

General Index – Timaeus 185 Pliny, the Elder 157 Plotina 29, 118 Plutarch 9, 23, 29, 35, 38–40, 69, 152–153, 162, 167–170 – On the delays of divine vengeance 169 – On the fortune of the Romans 169 – Moralia 162 Parallel Lives 162–167 – Praeceptae geredae reipublicae 11 – Praecepts of Statecraft 35, 162, 167, 178 – De Pythiae oraculis 169 – On superstition 34 – On tranquility of mind 169 Polybius 15–21, 33, 147, 151–152, 154–155 Pompeius Trogus 158–159 Pompey 23, 70–74, 76, 150, 155, 158, 163–167 – Lex Pompeia 71 Pontarches 137 Pontus 51, 70, 73, 163–164, 166 and Bithynia 47, 50 Posidonios 151, 156 Priene 69 priest 10, 31, 33, 41, 63, 67, 71–79, 81–82, 84–87, 89, 90, 97–100, 119, 128–129, 131–140, 142, 144–145, 154, 157, 185 Protis 158 Prusa 165 Prusias 14 Prusias of Bithynia, king 16–17, 21, 82–84 Ptolemaic Empire 13 Ptolomeans 77 Ptolemy II 153 Pydna, battle of 20 Pylae 128–130, 140–142, 144–145 Pythagoras 157 Pythian festivals 128, 134, 138–141 Pythodoris 164 Pythodoros of Nysa 165 T. Quinctius Flaminius 22 Remus 158 Rhine 46 Rhodes 15–16, 19–22, 38, 161, 173–174 Rhoiteion 164 Roman Republic 8, 13, 41, 45, 74, 147, 153, 155, 167 Romulus 32–33, 41, 158 Royal library of Pella 152 Sagalassos 161

191

Sallust 24, 157 Sarapis 34 Sardes 161, 166, 168 Sardinia 47 Scipio Africanus 14 Scythia, Scythians 156 Sebastoi 131–134, 136, 138, 140 Second Sophistic 24, 43, 46 Seleucos Nicator 98–99 Senate, Roman 13–23 44, 48, 56, 69, 76 Sertorian War 158 Sestos 163 Severan 44, 120, 122 Sicily 10, 47, 51, 147 Sinope 165 Smyrna 173, 177, 184 Solon 157, 185 Sparta 14, 17, 19, 51–52, 54–55, 57, 61–62 64, 130, 177, 179 Statius 159 Stoicism 31, 40, 124 Strabo 48–51, 53–55, 68, 70–71, 74–75, 77, 79–80, 82, 86–87, 149–151, 156–159, 161–170 Straton 164 Stratonicea 9, 42 Suetonius 43, 44 Sulla 23, 69, 165–167 Synnada 111, 166 Tacitus 43–44, 48, 55 Tanais 182 Tarcondimotus of Amanus 166 Tarquin 158 temple 32, 41, 60, 68–90, 92, 109, 157, 175 – Greek 67, 109–110, 120, 142–144 – Eastern 9, 11, 97, 99–100 – temple–states 7, 9, 67, 72–74, 78 theatre 97, 105–107, 118, 124 Thebes 177 Theopompus of Cos 165 Thespiae 58 Thessaly, Thessalians 57, 128, 130, 140–141 Third Macedonian War 17, 19 (see also Macedonia) Thucydides 43, 55, 147–148, 181 Tiberius 48–49, 55–56, 59, 131, 134, 136–137, 161, 164, 166 Tiberius Gracchus 22 Timagenes of Alexandria 150–152, 156, 159 Timaios 149, 154 Trajan 10, 29, 36, 60, 91–92, 103, 106–107, 110, 118, 138

192 Treaty of Apamea 19, 80 Troad 162–164 Troy 61 Turdetanoi 157–158 Tusculum 152–153 Tyche 99, 101 urbanization 70–71, 74, 89 Varro 154 Vercingetorix 156 Verrius Flaccus 154 Vespasianus 8, 174

General Index Xiphilinus 43 Zela (city of Pontus) 70–74, 164 Zeno 40 Zeus 42, 74, 77, 82–84, 86, 98–99, 101, 110, 112, 115, 165 – Abrettenus 166 – of Comana 166 – Olympian 37–38, 40, 98–99, 101, 109, 112, 136 – Sosipolis 80 Zonaras 43

p o t s da m e r a lt e rt u m s w i s s e n s c h a f t l i c h e b e i t r äg e

Herausgegeben von Pedro Barceló, Peter Riemer, Jörg Rüpke und John Scheid.

Franz Steiner Verlag

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ISSN 1437–6032

Christoph Batsch / Ulrike Egelhaaf-Gaiser / Ruth Stepper (Hg.) Zwischen Krise und Alltag / Conflit et normalité Antike Religionen im Mittelmeerraum / Religions anciennes dans l’espace méditerranéen 1999. 287 S. mit 18 Abb., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-07513-8 Ulrike Egelhaaf-Gaiser Kulträume im römischen Alltag Das Isisbuch des Apuleius und der Ort von Religion im kaiserzeitlichen Rom 2000. 668 S., 20 Taf., geb. ISBN 978-3-515-07766-8 Christiane Kunst / Ulrike Riemer (Hg.) Grenzen der Macht Zur Rolle der römischen Kaiserfrauen 2000. X, 174 S., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-07819-1 Jörg Rüpke (Hg.) Von Göttern und Menschen erzählen Formkonstanzen und Funktionswandel vormoderner Epik 2001. 200 S., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-07851-1 Silke Knippschild „Drum bietet zum Bunde die Hände“ Rechtssymbolische Akte in zwischenstaatlichen Beziehungen im orientalischen und griechisch-römischen Altertum 2002. 223 S. mit 23 Abb., geb. ISBN 978-3-515-08079-8 Christoph Auffarth / Jörg Rüpke (Hg.) ∆Epitomhv th`~ oijkoumevnh~ Studien zur römischen Religion in Antike und Neuzeit. Für Hubert Cancik und Hildegard Cancik-Lindemaier 2002. 284 S. mit 11 Abb., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-08210-5 Ulrike Riemer / Peter Riemer (Hg.) Xenophobie – Philoxenie Vom Umgang mit Fremden in der Antike 2005. XI, 276 S., geb.

ISBN 978-3-515-08195-5 Patricia Just Imperator et Episcopus Zum Verhältnis von Staatsgewalt und christlicher Kirche zwischen dem 1. Konzil von Nicaea (325) und dem 1. Konzil von Konstantinopel (381) 2003. 251 S., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-08247-1 9. Ruth Stepper Augustus et sacerdos Untersuchungen zum römischen Kaiser als Priester 2003. 275 S., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-08445-1 10. Alessandro Barchiesi / Jörg Rüpke / Susan Stephens (Hg.) Rituals in Ink A Conference on Religion and Literary Production in Ancient Rome held at Stanford University in February 2002 2004. VIII, 182 S., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-08526-7 11. Dirk Steuernagel Kult und Alltag in römischen Hafenstädten Soziale Prozesse in archäologischer Perspektive 2004. 312 S. mit 6 Abb., 26 Plänen und 12 Taf., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-08364-5 12. Jörg Rüpke Fasti sacerdotum Die Mitglieder der Priesterschaften und das sakrale Funktionspersonal römischer, griechischer, orientalischer und jüdischchristlicher Kulte in der Stadt Rom von 300 v. Chr. bis 499 n. Chr. Teil 1: Jahres- und Kollegienlisten Teil 2: Biographien Teil 3: Beiträge zur Quellenkunde und Organisationsgeschichte / Bibliographie / Register 2005. 3 Bde. mit insg. 1860 S. und CD-ROM, geb. ISBN 978-3-515-07456-8 8.

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erscheint nicht Dorothee Elm von der Osten / Jörg Rüpke / Katharina Waldner (Hg.) Texte als Medium und Reflexion von Religion im römischen Reich 2006. 260 S., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-08641-7 Clifford Ando / Jörg Rüpke (Hg.) Religion and Law in Classical and Christian Rome 2006. 176 S., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-08854-1 Corinne Bonnet / Jörg Rüpke / Paolo Scarpi (Hg.) Religions orientales – culti misterici Neue Perspektiven – nouvelles perspectives – prospettive nuove 2006. 269 S. mit 26 Abb., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-08871-8 Andreas Bendlin / Jörg Rüpke (Hg.) Römische Religion im historischen Wandel Diskursentwicklung von Plautus bis Ovid 2009. 199 S., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-08828-2 Virgilio Masciadri Eine Insel im Meer der Geschichten Untersuchungen zu Mythen aus Lemnos 2007. 412 S. mit 6 Abb., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-08818-3 Francesca Prescendi Décrire et comprendre le sacrifice Les réflexions des Romains sur leur propre religion à partir de la littérature antiquaire 2007. 284 S., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-08888-6 Dorothee Elm von der Osten Liebe als Wahnsinn Die Konzeption der Göttin Venus in den Argonautica des Valerius Flaccus 2007. 204 S., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-08958-6 Frederick E. Brenk With Unperfumed Voice Studies in Plutarch, in Greek Literature, Religion and Philosophy, and in the New Testament Background 2007. 543 S. mit 39 Abb., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-08929-6 David Engels Das römische Vorzeichenwesen (753–27 v. Chr.) Quellen, Terminologie, Kommentar, historische Entwicklung

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2007. 877 S., geb. ISBN 978-3-515-09027-8 Ilinca Tanaseanu-Döbler Konversion zur Philosophie in der Spätantike Kaiser Julian und Synesios von Kyrene 2008. 309 S., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-09092-6 Günther Schörner / Darja Šterbenc Erker (Hg.) Medien religiöser Kommunikation im Imperium Romanum 2008. 148 S. mit 15 Abb., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-09188-6 Helmut Krasser / Dennis Pausch / Ivana Petrovic (Hg.) Triplici invectus triumpho Der römische Triumph in augusteischer Zeit 2008. 327 S. mit 25 Abb., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-09249-4 Attilio Mastrocinque Des Mystères de Mithra aux Mystères de Jésus 2008. 128 S. und 7 Taf. mit 15 Abb., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-09250-0 Jörg Rüpke / John Scheid (Hg.) Bestattungsrituale und Totenkult in der römischen Kaiserzeit / Rites funéraires et culte des morts aux temps impériales 2010. 298 S. mit 64 Abb., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-09190-9 Christoph Auffarth (Hg.) Religion auf dem Lande Entstehung und Veränderung von Sakrallandschaften unter römischer Herrschaft 2009. 271 S. mit 65 Abb., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-09347-7 Pedro Barceló (Hg.) Religiöser Fundamentalismus in der römischen Kaiserzeit 2010. 250 S. mit 26 Abb., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-09444-3 Christa Frateantonio / Helmut Krasser (Hg.) Religion und Bildung Medien und Funktionen religiösen Wissens in der Kaiserzeit 2010. 239 S. mit 8 Abb., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-09690-4 Philippe Bornet Rites et pratiques de l’hospitalité Mondes juifs et indiens anciens

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2010. 301 S., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-09689-8 Giorgio Ferri Tutela urbis Il significato e la concezione della divinità tutelare cittadina nella religione romana 2010. 266 S., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-09785-7 James H. Richardson / Federico Santangelo (Hg.) Priests and State in the Roman World 2011. 643 S. mit 24 Abb., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-09817-5 Peter Eich Gottesbild und Wahrnehmung Studien zu Ambivalenzen früher griechischer Götterdarstellungen (ca. 800 v.Chr. – ca. 400 v.Chr.) 2011. 532 S., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-09855-7 Mihály Loránd Dészpa Peripherie-Denken Transformation und Adaption des Gottes Silvanus in den Donauprovinzen (1.–4. Jahrhundert n. Chr.) 2012. X, 312 S. und 13 Taf. mit 35 Abb., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-09945-5 Attilio Mastrocinque / Concetta Giuffrè Scibona (Hg.) Demeter, Isis, Vesta, and Cybele Studies in Greek and Roman Religion in Honour of Giulia Sfameni Gasparro 2012. 248 S. mit 48 Abb., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-10075-5 Elisabeth Begemann Schicksal als Argument Ciceros Rede vom „fatum“ in der späten Republik 2012. 397 S., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-10109-7 Christiane Nasse Erdichtete Rituale Die Eingeweideschau in der lateinischen Epik und Tragödie 2012. 408 S., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-10133-2 Michaela Stark Göttliche Kinder Ikonographische Untersuchung zu den Darstellungskonzeptionen von Gott und Kind bzw. Gott und Mensch in der griechischen Kunst 2012. 360 S. und 32 Taf. mit 55 Abb.

ISBN 978-3-515-10139-4 40. Charalampos Tsochos Die Religion in der römischen Provinz Makedonien 2012. 278 S. und 44 Taf. mit 58 Abb., 5 Ktn. und 3 Plänen, kt. ISBN 978-3-515-09448-1 41. Ioanna Patera Offrir en Grèce ancienne Gestes et contextes 2012. 292 S. mit 22 Abb., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-10188-2 42. Vera Sauer Religiöses in der politischen Argumentation der späten römischen Republik Ciceros Erste Catilinarische Rede – eine Fallstudie 2012. 299 S., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-10302-2 43. Darja Šterbenc-Erker Die religiösen Rollen römischer Frauen in „griechischen“ Ritualen 2013. 310 S., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-10450-0 44. Peter Eich / Eike Faber (Hg.) Religiöser Alltag in der Spätantike 2013. 293 S. mit 24 Abb., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-10442-5 45. Nicola Cusumano / Valentino Gasparini / Attilio Mastrocinque / Jörg Rüpke (Hg.) Memory and Religious Experience in the Greco-Roman World 2013. 223 S. mit 24 Abb., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-10425-8 46. Veit Rosenberger (Hg.) Divination in the Ancient World Religious Options and the Individual 2013. 177 S. mit 11 Abb., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-10629-0 47. Francesco Massa Tra la vigna e la croce Dioniso nei discorsi letterari e figurativi cristiani (II–IV secolo) 2014. 325 S. mit 23 Abb., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-10631-3 48. Marco Ladewig Rom – Die antike Seerepublik Untersuchungen zur Thalassokratie der res publica populi romani von den Anfängen bis zur Begründung des Principat 2014. 373 S. mit 12 Abb., 2 Tab. und 2 Ktn., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-10730-3

49. Attilio Mastrocinque Bona Dea and the Cults of Roman Women 2014. 209 S. mit 16 Abb., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-10752-5 50. Julietta Steinhauer-Hogg Religious Associations in the Post-Classical Polis

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2014. 189 S. mit 18 Abb., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-10646-7 Eike Faber Von Ulfila bis Rekkared Die Goten und ihr Christentum 2014. 300 S. mit 5 Abb., kt. ISBN 978-3-515-10926-0

This book analyses the procedures, ideas and realities that allowed the people from the Greek East to become a part of the Roman Empire, while both preserving and redeveloping their cultural identity. The volume assesses this complex process both in the traditional Greek cities of the provinces of Achaea and Asia as well as in other areas that had been deeply hellenised for centuries, as the Near East. A common point of departure of the different essays is the notion that granting the Greeks a privileged position within the Roman Empire as a tribute to their civilisation was as possible an option as that of “barbarisation”, i.e. the substitu-

tion of Greek cultural identity by the Roman one. Between the respect and conservation of political and cultural structures, and their total annihilation and substitution by new realities of undeniable Roman stamp, there existed a wide spectrum of political possibilities with strong cultural and religious undertones. In creating those new options, which Rome either opted for, refused, or transformed, the political and cultural activity of the Greeks themselves, and in particular the oligarchs who ruled the cities in the Mediterranean East, played an important role. This volume attempts to analyse all those new possibilities.

www.steiner-verlag.de Franz Steiner Verlag

ISBN 978-3-515-11135-5