From Document to History: Epigraphic Insights into the Greco-Roman World 9789004382886, 9004382887

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Cover illustration: Bilingual honorific inscription for the future emperor Hadrian, from the Theater of Dionysus, Athens, 112 CE (Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum III 550 = Inscriptiones Graecae II2 3286). Courtesy of Krateros, Squeezes of Inscriptions, the Institute for Advanced Study, Princeton. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Noreña, Carlos F., editor. | Papazarkadas, Nikolaos, 1974– editor. Title: From document to history : epigraphic insights into the Greco-Roman world / edited by Carlos F. Noreña, Nikolaos Papazarkadas. Description: Leiden ; Boston : Brill, 2019. | Series: Brill studies in Greek and Roman epigraphy ; volume 12 | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2019009571 (print) | LCCN 2019011826 (ebook) | ISBN 9789004382886 (ebook) | ISBN 9789004382879 (pbk. : alk. paper) Subjects: LCSH: Inscriptions, Greek. | Inscriptions, Latin. | Graffiti—Greece. | Graffiti—Rome. | Greece—Social life and customs—Sources. | Rome—Social life and customs—Sources. | Greece—History—To 146 BC—Sources. | Greece—History—146 BC–323 AD—Sources. Classification: LCC CN350 (ebook) | LCC CN350 .F76 2019 (print) | DDC 938—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019009571

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill-typeface. ISSN 1876-2557 ISBN 978-90-04-38287-9 (hardback) ISBN 978-90-04-38288-6 (e-book) Copyright 2019 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Hes & De Graaf, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Rodopi, Brill Sense, Hotei Publishing, mentis Verlag, Verlag Ferdinand Schöningh and Wilhelm Fink Verlag. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

Contents List of Figures, Charts, Maps, and Tables Notes on Contributors xiii

ix

From Document to History: Introduction 1 Carlos F. Noreña and Nikolaos Papazarkadas

Part 1 Classical and Hellenistic Greece 1

Epigraphy of the Night Angelos Chaniotis

13

2

War Orphans and Orphans of Democracy in Classical Athens: The Decree of Theozotides and the Prytaneion Decree Reconsidered 37 Sviatoslav Dmitriev

3

The Quarries of Attica Revisited Cristina Carusi

4

Writing on the Wall: The Epigraphy of Fortification and the Attic Deme of Rhamnous 70 Noah Kaye

5

Anomalous Grants of isopoliteia and Diplomatic Discourse in Hellenistic Greek Inscriptions 85 Randall Souza

6

New Hellenistic Inscriptions from Phigaleia (Arcadia) Athanassios Themos and Eleni Zavvou

7

The horologion of Dexippos: A Fresh Insight into Hellenistic Lemnos 120 Francesca Rocca

8

Homonyms in Greek Sculptors’ Signatures: The Case of Boëthos Catherine M. Keesling

56

103

135

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Contents

Part 2 The Roman West 9

Mapping Katadesmoi in the Western Roman Empire Celia Sánchez Natalías

151

10

Graffiti in the So-Called College of Augustales at Herculaneum (Insula VI 21, 24): New Work from the Ancient Graffiti Project 165 Stephanie Ann Frampton

11

Wall Inscriptions in the Ancient City: The Ancient Graffiti Project 179 Rebecca Benefiel, Holly Sypniewski, and Erika Zimmermann Damer

12

Public in Private: The Distribution and Content of Graffiti in Pompeian domus and hospitia 197 Jacqueline DiBiasie Sammons

13

Shedding Light on ludi in Pompeii Joe Sheppard

14

Casting a Wide Net: Searching for Networks of Gladiators and Game-givers in Campania 246 Virginia Campbell

15

Political Relationships: The Terms Used to Represent the Public Dedicators of Honorific Statues in the Cities of Africa Proconsularis, c. 50 BCE to 299 CE 260 Christopher Dawson

16

Public Slaves in Rome and in the Cities of the Latin West: New Additions to the Epigraphic Corpus 279 Franco Luciani

17

Secundae Nuptiae: A New Look at Remarriage through Epigraphy — A Few Examples from Roman Spain 306 Anthony Álvarez Melero

18

Documenting Hispanic Immigrants in Italia, Gallia, and Britannia M. Cristina de la Escosura Balbás

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Contents

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A New Statue Base of Septimius Severus from Lambaesis: The Army and the Emperor in Severan North Africa 356 Riccardo Bertolazzi

Part 3 The Roman East 20

Encrypted Inscriptions: A Paradoxical Practice Patricia A. Rosenmeyer

21

Lucius Egnatius Victor Lollianus: A New Honorific Inscription from Athens 393 Dimitrios Sourlas

22

Four Unpublished Inscriptions (and One Neglected Collector) from the World Museum, Liverpool 408 Peter Liddel and Polly Low

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Two Latin Inscriptions from Ephesos in the Ashmolean Museum Alison Cooley Index of Subjects 455 Index of Literary Sources 464 Index of Epigraphic and Papyrological Sources

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Figures, Charts, Maps, and Tables Figures 4.1 4.2 4.3 4.4 6.1 6.2 6.3 6.4 6.5 7.1 10.1 10.2 11.1 11.2 11.3 11.4 12.1 12.2 12.3 12.4 12.5 12.6 12.7 12.8 12.9 12.10 14.1 14.2 14.3 14.4

Location of the inscriptions on East Wall of Fortress of Rhamnous. Map by author; Google Earth and DigitalGlobe © 2016 78 I.Rhamnous 194. Photo by author 79 I.Rhamnous 193. Photo by author 79 I.Rhamnous 195. Photo by author 80 Inscription no. I: Proxeny decree for Kallistratos of Alipheira. Photo by authors 108 Inscription no. II: Honorary decree for Archippos of Phigaleia. Photo by authors 110 Inscription no. III: Proxeny list, side A. Photo by authors 112 Inscription no. III: Proxeny list, side B. Photo by authors 113 Inscription no. IV: Dedication to Zeus. Photo by authors 117 The horologion of Dexippos; Accame 1941/3 nr. 17 = MMyrina X21. Photo by author 123 Plan of Insula VI 21,24 (credit: Mary Hale) 169 Apograph of graffiti 172 Detail of the map originally published with CIL IV (1871) 182 Homepage of the Ancient Graffiti Project 184 Locations of graffiti in the Casa del Gran Portale, Herculaneum 186 Table of line-drawings from CIL IV (1871) 189 V.1.18: Map of Graffiti 199 V.1.18: Visual Control 200 V.1.18: Closed doors 202 V.1.18: Visual Control 203 V.1.18: Agent Analysis 204 VII.12.35: Visual Control 206 V.2.4: Map of graffiti 211 V.2.4: Visual Control 212 VII.12.35: Visual Control 213 V.2.4: Graffiti in the peristyle 214 Munus te ub(i)q(ue) 247 Visualisation of CIL IV 10236–8 252 Visualisation of CIL IV 10528 253 Photo of AE 1989: 182b. Photo by author 253

x 14.5 14.6 14.7 15.1

18.1 18.2 18.3 18.4 18.5 18.6 19.1 20.1

20.2 20.3 20.4 21.1

21.2

21.3 21.4 22.1

22.2

Figures, Charts, Maps, and Tables Visualisation of AE 1989: 182b 254 Visualisation of CIL IV 4299 254 Visualisation of the epigraphic network map of gladiators and games 257 ILAfr. 455=Bardo 250: Limestone Lintel from the Baths of Bulla Regia, 198–211 CE. Image from: Zeϊneb Benzina Ben Abdallah, Catalogue des Inscriptions latines paϊennes du Musée du Bardo. Collection de l’École Française de Rome 92, 1986. 261 Inscriptions of possible immigrants from Hispania, by type of reference 332 Hispani at Rome, by status 334 Hispani in Italia, by status 334 Hispani in Gallia, by status 335 Hispani in Britannia, by status 335 Hispani immigrants, by origin 336 Lambaesis, statue base with dedicatory inscription to Septimius Severus. Photo credit: BBAW 358 Richard Pococke’s 1743 transcription of the Memnon inscriptions: partial segment of the right leg. Image courtesy of Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University 380 Squeeze and photograph of I.Col.Memnon 102 381 Photograph of I.Col.Memnon 102 showing letters under debate (sigma, zeta, chi, upsilon) - νπυλϙθως vs. νπχλϙθωζ 384 I.Col.Memnon photograph (end of 2nd and all of 3rd line of section labeled 31) and squeeze of I.Col.Memnon 97 386 The “Aiolos” hotel: reused pedestals built into the gate of the Post-Herulian wall. Photo E. Bardani (Archive of the the Ephorate of Antiquities of Athens) 395 The “Aiolos” hotel: the gateway of the post-Herulian wall after the removal of one row of pedestals. Photo E. Bardani (Archive of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Athens) 396 IG II 2 4217 (Old Acropolis Museum). Photo E. Bardani (Archive of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Athens) 398 The inscription. Photo E. Bardani, drawing M. Lefantzis (Archive of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Athens) 400 Small stele with relief of a bull: (a) full view; (b) detail of inscribed panel: Liverpool, World Museum, 14.1.90.4. Images copyright National Museums Liverpool (World Museum). All rights reserved 411 Altar of Aphrodite: Liverpool, World Museum, 14.1.90.5. Image copyright National Museums Liverpool (World Museum). All rights reserved 413

Figures, Charts, Maps, and Tables 22.3

22.4

23.1 23.2 23.3 23.4 23.5 23.6 23.7 23.8 23.9 23.10 23.11 23.12 23.13 23.14 23.15

A Christian acclamation: Liverpool, World Museum, 14.1.90.6. Image copyright National Museums Liverpool (World Museum). All rights reserved 416 Re-worked slab with incised feet: Liverpool, World Museum, 14.1.90.7. Image copyright National Museums Liverpool (World Museum). All rights reserved 419 Stele of Pompeius Marcellinus, AN.Michaelis.214. Photograph: AshLI, courtesy of Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford 434 List of names from Ephesos, 1896–1908, G.1188. Left side. Photograph: Ben Altshuler 437 List of names from Ephesos, 1896–1908, G.1188. Centre. Photograph: Ben Altshuler 437 List of names from Ephesos, 1896–1908, G.1188. Right side. Photograph: Ben Altshuler 438 Top left corner. AshLI, courtesy of Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford 439 Lettering (a heading?) along top edge 439 Lettering along top edge, close-up 440 Column 1 440 Column 2 441 Column 3 442 Column 4 443 Column 5 444 Column 6 445 Column 7 446 Columns 8 and 9 447

Charts 15.1 15.2 15.3 15.4 15.5

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Juridical status terms 268 Demonym terms 268 Institutional and constituency terms 270 Honorific statues from the decurions alone 272 Institutional and constituency terms compared to judicial status terms, demonym terms, and indirect formulae 274

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Figures, Charts, Maps, and Tables

Maps 9.1 9.2

Katadesmoi in the Republic (Scale 1: 12.000.000) 159 Katadesmoi in the High Empire and Late Antiquity (Scale 1: 12.000.000) 160–161

Tables 15.1 Comparison of honorific statue inscriptions by the decurions of Sufetula 271 16.1 New additions to the epigraphic corpus on public slaves in Rome 283 16.2 New additions to the epigraphic corpus on public slaves and freedmen in the cities of the Latin west 286 17.1 List of remarriages from Roman Spain 315 18.1 Corpus of documented immigrants from Hispania 338 20.1 I.Col.Memnon 102 lines 2-3 with their numeric-alphabetic equivalences 383 20.2 I.Col.Memnon 102 line 4 with its numeric-alphabetic equivalence 384

Notes on Contributors Anthony Álvarez Melero is Assistant Professor at the Universidad de Sevilla. His main fields of research are women’s history, Roman epigraphy, Roman Spain, Roman social history, and prosopography. He has recently published Matronae equestres. La parenté féminine des chevaliers romains originaires des provinces occidentales sous le Haut-Empire romain (Ier-IIIe siècles) (Brepols 2018). Rebecca Benefiel is Professor of Classics at Washington & Lee University, where she teaches Latin literature and Roman archaeology. She studied epigraphy at L’Università di Roma ‘La Sapienza’ and Harvard University, where she earned her Ph.D. She has published numerous articles, co-edited the volume Inscriptions in the Private Sphere in the Greco-Roman World (Brill 2016), and is the Director of the Ancient Graffiti Project. Riccardo Bertolazzi is a Postdoctoral Fellow in the Department of Classics at the University of Toronto. He has published numerous articles on social and military matters related to Roman imperial history and epigraphy and is now working on a monograph on Septimius Severus and the cities of the Roman Empire. Cristina Carusi is Assistant Professor in the Department of Classics at the University of Texas at Austin. Her research focuses on the economy, law, and institutions of Greek city-states and on the study of epigraphic sources. Her most relevant publications include a book on the production, trade, and taxation of salt in the Greek world (Edipuglia 2008) and a co-edited volume on the Athenian grain-tax law of 374/3 (ETS 2010). She is currently working on a new book on public building and the Athenian democracy. Angelos Chaniotis is Professor of Ancient History and Classics at the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton. He is an editor of Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum and responsible for the publication of the inscriptions of Aphrodisias since 1995.

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Notes on Contributors

Alison E. Cooley is Professor in the Department of Classics and Ancient History, University of Warwick. She has published a commentary on the Res Gestae (Cambridge University Press 2009) and The Cambridge Manual of Latin Epigraphy (Cambridge University Press 2012) and edited A Companion to Roman Italy (Blackwell-Wiley 2016). From 2013 to 2017 she was Principal Investigator of the Ashmolean Latin Inscriptions Project, funded by the Arts and Humanities Research Council UK. Christopher Dawson earned his PhD in History at York University, Toronto, in 2016. He studies the political cultures of the cities of Roman North Africa and their connection to social and cultural trends around the Mediterranean. Currently, he is working on a monograph concerning the performative nature of public life in the region, particularly the role of non-elite citizens. M. Cristina de la Escosura is Juan de la Cierva Postdoctoral Researcher at the University of Zaragoza. She is interested in Latin Epigraphy and Onomastics in the context of both the Republic and the Principate. She is also a member of several Digital Humanities projects. Jacqueline DiBiasie-Sammons is an Assistant Professor of Classics at the University of Mississippi. Her current research investigates the aesthetics of ancient graffiti and the charcoal graffiti of Pompeii and Herculaneum. She has published on the application of digital technologies to photograph ancient graffiti. She serves as the Field Director of the Ancient Graffiti Project. Sviatoslav Dmitriev is Associate Professor of History at Ball State University. He has published on the social, political, and administrative history of Greece across a wide chronological span. His latest book is The Birth of the Athenian Community: From Solon to Cleisthenes (Routledge 2018). Stephanie Ann Frampton is a classicist, comparatist, and historian of media in antiquity. Her work focuses on the intersections of literary and material culture in the Graeco-Roman world and traditions of reading, writing, and scholarly practice in the classical

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tradition. She is the author of Empire of Letters: Writing in Roman Literature and Thought from Lucretius to Ovid (Oxford 2019) and Associate Professor of Literature at MIT. Noah Kaye is an Assistant Professor of History at Michigan State University. His specialization is Greek history, epigraphy, and archaeology, with a focus on the Hellenistic kingdoms of Anatolia and the Near East. He is currently completing a book, Overnight Empire: The Attalids of Pergamon and Anatolia. Catherine M. Keesling is Professor of Classics at Georgetown University, Washington DC. Her publications include The Votive Statues of the Athenian Acropolis (Cambridge 2003) and Early Greek Portraiture: Monuments and Histories (Cambridge 2017), as well as articles and book chapters on Greek sculpture, Greek epigraphy, and commemorative monuments. She is writing a book on sculptural collections in Roman Greece and Asia Minor. Peter Liddel is Senior Lecturer in Ancient History at the University of Manchester. He is interested in ancient Greek history, epigraphy, and historiography. In 2019 he will publish a 2-volume study of fourth-century Athenian decrees attested in literary texts with Cambridge University Press. Polly Low is Professor in the Department of Classics & Ancient History at Durham University. Her work focuses on the theory and practice of interstate politics in Classical Greece, but she has also published on warfare, commemoration, historiography, and epigraphy. Franco Luciani is a Lecturer in Ancient History at Newcastle University. His primary areas of expertise are Roman history and Latin epigraphy. He works on aspects of Roman social history, such as slavery and non-élite groups, as well as on the administration of Italy and Italian cities during the Empire. In 2012 he published all of the epigraphic material from Treviso (Italy) in his monograph Iscrizioni greche e latine dei Musei Civici di Treviso.

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Francesca Rocca (PhD, University of Turin 2012) has been the recipient of scholarships from various institutions, including AIEGL and the Istituto Italiano per la Storia Antica. In 2016 she was a member of the project The Epigraphic Landscape of Athens under the directorship of Professor Culasso (Turin). Her work focuses on slavery and manumission in the ancient Greek world. Patricia A. Rosenmeyer is George L. Paddison Professor of Classics at the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill. She specializes in Archaic Greek and Hellenistic poetry, epistolary fiction, verse inscriptions, and reception studies. Her most recent book is The Language of Ruins: Greek and Latin Inscriptions on the Memnon Colossus (Oxford University Press 2018). Celia Sánchez Natalías has a doctorate from the University of Zaragoza. Her research has focused on the study of defixiones. In addition to editions of new and old epigraphic texts, she has published a series of articles concerning ancient magic. Her forthcoming book will be dedicated to the study of Latin, Estruscan, Oscan, Celtic, and bilingual curse tablets from the pars occidentalis of the Roman Empire. Joe Sheppard is a doctoral candidate in Classical Studies at Columbia University, where he is completing a dissertation entitled “Mass Spectacles in Roman Pompeii as a System of Communication.” His additional research interests include imperial villas in central Italy, Roman education, and the history of popular culture. Dimitris Sourlas is an archaeologist of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Athens. Over the past twenty years he has conducted excavations in the Roman Agora, the Library of Hadrian, and the wider area of Plaka in Athens. He has published extensively on the epigraphy, topography, architecture, and sculpture of Athens, Kythera, and other regions. Randall Souza is an Assistant Professor in the Department of History at Seattle University. His research interests lie in human mobility and group dynamics in the ancient Mediterranean and on Sicily in particular. He is a Field Director with the Contrada Agnese Project at the site of Morgantina, and a co-author of annual

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excavation reports. He is currently collaborating on the final excavation publication and preparing a book manuscript on Sicilian mobility and citizenship in the fourth and third centuries BCE. Holly M. Sypniewski is an Associate Professor of Classics at Millsaps College and the Assistant Director of the Ancient Graffiti Project. She recently published “The Greek Graffiti of Herculaneum,” co-authored with Rebecca R. Benefiel, in American Journal of Archaeology. She is currently developing two projects on the field notebooks of the epigrapher Matteo Della Corte. Athanassios Themos is the Director of the Epigraphical Museum in Athens. He worked from 1994 to 2006 for the 5th Ephorate of Prehistoric Antiquities of Laconia and Arcadia before moving to Athens and the Epigraphical Museum. He has published numerous articles on Attic and Spartan epigraphy and archeology. His forthcoming book, based on his doctoral dissertation, is a comprehensive study of Greek erotic and obscene inscriptions. Eleni Zavvou is an archaeologist of the Greek Ministry of Culture and Sports. She worked from 1994 to 2006 for the 5th Ephorate of Prehistoric Antiquities of Laconia and Arcadia and has been a member of the scholarly staff of the Epigraphical Museum since 2006. She has published extensively on Attic inscriptions and on the epigraphy and archaeology of Sparta and Laconia. Erika Zimmermann Damer is Associate Professor of Classics and Women, Gender, and Sexuality studies at the University of Richmond. She is interested in Roman poetry of the Augustan period, gender and sexuality, and Roman graffiti. She is the author of In the Flesh: Embodied Identities in Roman Elegy (University of Wisconsin Press, 2019), and a team leader in the Ancient Graffiti Project.

From Document to History: Introduction Carlos F. Noreña and Nikolaos Papazarkadas The First North American Congress of Greek and Latin Epigraphy was held in 2011, in San Antonio, Texas, in conjunction with the joint Annual Meeting of the Archaeological Institute of America (AIA) and the American Philological Association (as it was then called). As the first conference sponsored by the American Society of Greek and Latin Epigraphy (ASGLE), which had been formed in 1996, it featured 27 papers over two days, including keynote addresses in both Greek and Latin epigraphy, delivered by Stephen Tracy and Werner Eck, respectively. A selection of papers was subsequently published, under the editorship of John Bodel and Nora Dimitrova, as Ancient Documents and their Contexts. First North American Congress of Greek and Latin Epigraphy (2011). Brill Studies in Greek and Roman Epigraphy, volume 5 (Brill, 2014), which has met with positive reviews.1 Following the success of this First North American Congress of Greek and Latin Epigraphy, it was resolved to hold further conferences on a quadrennial basis. But a proposal to host the Second Congress not in 2015, but rather in 2016, at the University of California, Berkeley, in association with the AIA and Society for Classical Studies (SCS) joint Annual Meeting in San Francisco, California, was put forward by one of the editors of the current volume, Nikolaos Papazarkadas, at the 2013 Business Meeting of ASGLE at the AIA/ SCS Annual Meeting in Seattle, Washington. After deliberation, this proposal was unanimously endorsed by the Executive Committee of ASGLE. An ad hoc planning committee for the congress was then established, consisting of four members from ASGLE’s Executive Committee (John Bodel, Paul Iversen, John Morgan, and James Sickinger), and three local representatives from UC Berkeley (Emily Mackil, Carlos Noreña, and Nikolaos Papazarkadas). The decision to host the Second Congress in 2016, at Berkeley, reflects the university’s role as a hub of epigraphical studies in North America, with a long tradition of research in both Greek and Latin epigraphy, and the use of epigraphic evidence for broader work in the political, economic, and social history of the ancient Mediterranean world.

1 For details about the formation and early history of ASGLE, and planning for the First Congress, see the Introduction to Ancient Documents and their Contexts, 1–9. Reviews: E. Meyer, sehepunkte 16 (2016), Nr. 9; B. Raynor, Journal of Hellenic Studies 136 (2016), 249–50.

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Epigraphy at Berkeley

At Berkeley, the major figure on the Latin side was Arthur E. Gordon (1902– 1989). He taught in the Department of Classics for forty years, from his appointment as assistant professor of Latin in 1930 to his retirement as professor emeritus in 1970. Together with his wife, Joyce Gordon (n. Stiefbold), he produced a series of seminal reference works in Latin epigraphy. The Gordons’ most important contribution, of course, is their seven-volume Album of Dated Latin Inscriptions (University of California Press: Berkeley, 1958–65), covering 365 inscriptions from Rome and its environs from the early first to the early sixth century CE. Universally lauded as “masterful” and “magisterial,” these handsome volumes placed the study of Latin epigraphic chronology on an entirely new footing. Its underlying methodological principles are summarized in an important companion study, “Contributions to the Palaeography of Latin Inscriptions,” University of California Publications in Classical Archaeology 3.3 (1957), xii + 65–242, which is still a standard work in the field. What every user of the Album cherishes is the fundamental reliability of the Gordons’ readings and their expert judgment in what is a very slippery field. As Mortimer Chambers put it in his appreciative review of the first volume, “Let it be said that no previous editors match the Gordons in accuracy” (Classical Philology 54 [1959], 190). The volumes are characterized, too, by their beautiful plates and striking images—especially lovely to consult in this age of digital humanities. Gordon also published a series of important articles in Latin epigraphy, including “On the First Appearance of the Cognomen in Latin Inscriptions of Freedmen,” University of California Publications in Classical Archaeology 1.4 [1935], 151–8, and “Letter Names of the Latin Alphabet,” University of California Publications in Classical Antiquity 9 [1973], i–ix, 1–70. But he is probably best known to students of Latin inscriptions for his Illustrated Introduction to Latin Epigraphy (Berkeley, 1983), an authoritative guide from which even the veteran epigrapher can still benefit. On the Greek side, Berkeley’s epigraphic tradition goes back to the prolific W. Kendrick Pritchett, the founding father of Berkeley’s Graduate Group in Ancient History and Mediterranean Archaeology (AHMA). The author of thirty books and hundreds of articles, Pritchett started his epigraphic forays in collaboration with the patriarch of Greek epigraphical studies in North America, Benjamin D. Meritt. Their co-authored Chronology of Hellenistic Athens (Cambridge, MA, 1940) was followed by the seminal Calendars of Athens (Cambridge, MA, 1947), which this time Pritchett co-authored with a leading historian of ancient science, Otto Neugebauer. Ironically, this publication

From Document to History: Introduction

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created a scholarly rift between Pritchett and Meritt. This disagreement never took a nasty turn, but it has nevertheless had long-standing repercussions on the chronology of Attic inscriptions, which still remains a notoriously difficult issue to tackle. Undoubtedly, within Pritchett’s voluminous epigraphical work, pride of place goes to his gigantic Hesperia articles on the so-called Attic Stelai,2 the records of the confiscated properties of Alcibiades and his associates, convicted of sacrilege (and treason) in Athens in 414 BCE. The other pillar of Greek epigraphy at Berkeley has been Pritchett’s student and successor, Ronald S. Stroud. He has had a long and distinguished career at the university (1965–2006), both as a member of the Department of Classics and, along with Erich Gruen (another founding member of AHMA), of the ‘Group.’ Stroud’s epigraphic research has been trailblazing right from the beginning. His first book, Drakon’s Law on Homicide (Berkeley, 1968), not only presented a new (and definitive) text of the document upon which we reconstruct the law in question, but also established beyond reasonable doubt the basic historicity of the traditional (Aristotelian) account of Athenian politics in the second half of the seventh century BCE. Another fundamental work, undertaken with Nancy Bookides, was his 1997 volume, The Sanctuary of Demeter and Kore: Topography and Architecture (Princeton), recently followed by The Sanctuary of Demeter and Kore: The Inscriptions (Princeton, 2013). Part of the Corinth series published by the American School of Classical Studies in Athens, these volumes stand as exemplary scholarly presentations of the material and epigraphic record from a fascinating (but challenging) site. A host of other publications have made significant contributions to our understanding of Athenian history, above all his Athenian Grain-Tax Law of 374/3 (Hesperia Suppl. 29) (Princeton, 1998), an editio princeps of a text that shed considerable new light on the complex structures by which Athens maintained its grain supply, and his Athenian Empire on Stone (Athens, 2006), the publication of his David M. Lewis Memorial Lecture at Oxford, in which he questioned anew many longstanding verities about the Athenian archē. And somehow, through all of this very considerable work, he managed to serve, for over 35 years (1976–2012), as one of the principal editors of the Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum (SEG), helping to make a profusion of new texts accessible to scholars year after year. In recognition of this remarkable career spanning over 50 years, he was honored in 2015 with a well deserved Festschrift, with a 2 W.K. Pritchett, “The Attic Stelai, part I,” Hesperia 22 (1953), 225–299; “The Attic Stelai, part II,” Hesperia 25 (1956), 178–328; “Five New Fragments of the Attic Stelai,” Hesperia 30 (1961), 23–29.

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focus on epigraphic topics, ΑΞΩΝ. Studies in Honor of Ronald S. Stroud (Greek Epigraphic Society: Athens), edited by Angelos P. Matthaiou and Nikolaos Papazarkadas. Epigraphic work at Berkeley, in both Greek and Latin, has continued apace. Robert Knapp, for example, longtime member of Classics and AHMA (1974– 2006), published a series of studies on the history of Roman Spain, many based on the rich epigraphic evidence from the Iberian peninsula. Assigned the editorship of one of the fascicles of the second edition of the Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum for Spain, he developed the project into its own monograph, Latin Inscriptions from Central Spain, University of California Publications in Classical Studies, vol. 34 (Berkeley, 1992). As a major new edition of over 300 texts from this region, with full apparatus, historical and topographical discussion, photographs, and line drawings (produced by Alison Futrell, a Berkeley alumna), it has become a key reference work for this relatively understudied region. On the Greek side, Leslie L. Threatte, another longtime member of Classics (1970–2002), is the author of the monumental The Grammar of Attic Inscriptions. Volume I: Phonology (Berlin, 1980), and Volume II: Morphology (Berlin, 1996). Based on the study of thousands of epigraphical texts from Athens, Threatte’s magnum opus, more than 1,500 pages long, has become an indispensable tool and the first point of reference for any epigraphist grappling with the numerours problems of grammar frequently posed by Greek inscriptions. Berkeley is still one of the editorial homes of SEG, the work now overseen by Nikolaos Papazarkadas, one of the senior editors, in collaboration with Ron Stroud, who continues to contribute in his capacity as advisory editor. Berkeley is also home to the Sarah B. Aleshire Center for the Study of Greek Epigraphy, founded in 1999 on a bequest from the late Dr. Aleshire, an alumna of the Graduate Group in Ancient History and Mediterranean Archaeology at Berkeley, prominent scholar of Greek epigraphy, and author of two meticulous epigraphically-informed monographs, The Athenian Asklepieion: the People, their Dedications, and the Inventories, and Asklepios at Athens: Epigraphic and Prosopographic Essays on the Athenian Healing Cults, published in Amsterdam in 1989 and 1991, respectively. The Center, which supports faculty and student research, houses a research library, an archive of photographs of Greek of inscriptions, and an extensive collection of squeezes of (mainly) Attic, Peloponnesian, Boeotian, and Cycladic inscriptions (all searchable via an online database).3

3 Further information (and the databases) can be accessed from the Center’s website: http:// aleshire.berkeley.edu/.

From Document to History: Introduction

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5

NACGLE2: Conference Program

The Second North American Congress of Greek and Latin Epigraphy took place on the Berkeley campus over three days, January 3–5, 2016. It was attended by over 120 registered participants, from North America, Europe, and Australia, and featured 53 papers in a mix of plenary, parallel, and poster sessions, with a keynote address in Greek epigraphy, by Angelos Chaniotis (Institute for Advanced Study), and one in Latin epigraphy, by Alison Cooley (Warwick University). Speakers ranged from senior scholars to advanced graduate students. The awards for the best paper by a graduate student were given to Riccardo Bertolazzi (University of Calgary), in Latin epigraphy, and Michael Zellmann-Rohrer (UC Berkeley), in Greek. Expenses for the Second North American Congress of Greek and Latin Epigraphy were covered almost entirely by UC Berkeley. Funding came primarily from the Sarah B. Aleshire Center for the Study of Greek Epigraphy, with important contributions from other campus units, including AHMA, the Departments of Classics and History, and the Doreen B. Townsend Center for the Humanities. Brill Publishers also offered invaluable financial support. A summary of the program follows. Keynote Lecture in Greek Epigraphy. The Epigraphy of the Night. Angelos Chaniotis, Institute for Advanced Study Keynote Lecture in Latin Epigraphy. Fresh Insight into Latin Inscriptions in the Ashmolean Museum. Alison Cooley, University of Warwick. Greek Epigraphy I: Attic Epigraphy. Session Chair: Nikolaos Papazarkadas, UC Berkeley Zeus Herkeios and the Eleusinian Cults in Painia (IG I3 250) Kazuhiro Takeuchi, University of Athens The Decree of Theozotides on Orphans of War and Orphans of Democracy in Classical Athens Sviatoslav Dmitriev, Ball State University New Attic Inscriptions Angelos P. Matthaiou, Greek Epigraphic Society Stone on Stone. The Organization of the Building-Stone Industry in Classical Athens through the Epigraphic Evidence Cristina Carusi, University of Texas, Austin An Inventory List from the Brauronion found in Oropos Yannis Kalliontzis, Ecole française d’Athènes

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Roman Epigraphy I: Graffiti. Session Chair: J. Theodore Peña, UC Berkeley Wall Inscriptions in the Ancient City: The Herculaneum Graffiti Project Rebecca Benefiel, Washington & Lee University; Holly Sypniewski, Millsaps College; and Erika Zimmermann Damer, University of Richmond Casting a Wide Net: Searching for Networks of Gladiators and Game-givers in Campania Virginia L. Campbell, University of Oxford Public in Private: The Distribution and Content of Graffiti in Pompeian domus and hospitia Jacqueline DiBiasie, The University of the South: Sewanee In guria rocamus: Identifying the Herculanean Curia Stephanie Ann Frampton, Massachusetts Institute of Technology Inside Out: Private Graffiti in Public Contexts Fanny Opdenhoff, University of Heidelberg Epigraphy and Calendars. Session Chair: John Morgan, University of Delaware An Ancient Astronomical Device Explains Itself: The Inscriptions of the Antikythera Mechanism Alexander Jones, Institute for the Study of the Ancient World, New York University The Additions to the Calendar of Praeneste J. Bert Lott, Vassar College Astrology, Astral Beliefs, and the Planetary Week in the Inscriptions of the Western Roman Empire Ilaria Bultrighini, University College London Digital Epigraphy. Session Chair: Duncan MacRae, UC Berkeley From Stone to Screen to Database Gwynaeth McIntyre, University of British Columbia, and Chelsea Gardner, University of British Columbia Visible Words: Research and Training in Digital Contextual Epigraphy Michèle Brunet, Université Lyon 2, HiSoMA, and Marie-Claire Beaulieu, Tufts University and Perseus Digital Library I.Sicily: A Digital Corpus of the Stone Inscriptions of Ancient Sicily Jonathan Prag, University of Oxford Plenary Session I: Greek Epigraphy: New Texts. Session Chair: Ronald Stroud, UC Berkeley New Inscriptions from Phigaleia (Arcadia) Athanassios A. Themos, Epigraphical Museum, Athens

From Document to History: Introduction

7

Four Unpublished Inscriptions (and One Neglected Epigrapher) from the World Museum, Liverpool Peter Liddel, University of Manchester, and Polly Low, University of Manchester New Inscriptions from Messene Honoring Victorious Athletes Andronike Makres, Greek Epigraphic Society Inscriptiones Graecae XII 6, pars 3; Work in Progress: New Inscriptions from Chios Georgia E. Malouchou, Archaeological Society at Athens A New Hellenistic Decree from Olbasa Thomas Corsten, Universität Wien Greek Epigraphy II: Hellenistic Epigraphy. Session Chair: Erich Gruen, UC Berkeley IG XII 4,1 no. 132: The Settlement of Koan Foreign Judges for the Telians Adele Scafuro, Brown University Anomalous Grants of Isopoliteia and Diplomatic Discourse in Hellenistic Greek Inscriptions Randall Souza, SUNY Binghamton Larisaeans on Roman Manumission and Greek Citizenship: IG IX 2, 517 Tristan K. Husby, The Graduate Center, CUNY Writing on the Wall: The Epigraphy of Fortification and Social History Noah Kaye, University of Indiana The horologion of Dexippos: Fresh Insight into Hellenistic Lemnos Francesca Rocca, Università degli Studi di Torino Roman Epigraphy II: The Epigraphy of the Roman West. Session Chair: Carlos Noreña, UC Berkeley Servi and liberti publici in the Public Archives in the Roman Cities of the Western Provinces Franco Luciani, Università Ca’ Foscari Venezia Civic Relations: Honorific Statues and Patterns of Dedication in Africa Proconsularis, 100–300 CE Chris Dawson, York University Carving a Professional Identity. The Occupational Epigraphy of the Roman Latin West Rada Varga, Babes-Bolyai University Roman Weddings: A New Look on Remarriage, an Underestimated Phenomenon through Epigraphy Anthony Alvarez Melero, Universidad de Sevilla

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Puppy Magic in Roman Aquitania and the Question of Magic-Religion Gil Renberg, Harvard University Plenary Session II: Epigraphic Enigmas. Session Chair: James Sickinger, Florida State University An Illegible Classical Decree from Aigina in the Light of RTI Irene Polinskaya, King’s College London Greek Sculptors’ Signatures, Homonyms, and Ockham’s Razor Catherine M. Keesling, Georgetown University On the Meaning of τὸν νεµητὸν ἀγῶνα in the Victory Lists for the Homoloia at Orchomenos (IG VII 3196 and 3197) Mali Skotheim, Princeton University Encrypted Inscriptions: A Paradoxical Practice Patricia Rosenmeyer, University of Wisconsin, Madison Plenary Session III: Roman Epigraphy: New Texts. Session Chair: John Bodel, Brown University Local Elites and Civic Euergetism in Julio-Claudian Valeria (Hispania Citerior): A New Opisthographic Inscription Jonathan Edmondson, York University, and Helena Gimeno Pascual, University of Alcalá de Henares From the CIL Archives: a New Statue Base of Septimius Severus from Lambaesis Riccardo Bertolazzi, University of Calgary New Inscribed Statue Bases from Roman Athens Dimitrios Sourlas, Greek Archaeological Service Plenary Session IV: Greek Epigraphy and Religion, in Memory of Sara B. Aleshire. Session Chairs: Emily Mackil, UC Berkeley; Nikolaos Papazarkadas, UC Berkeley; Paul Iversen, Case Western Reserve University Epigraphic Corpora and Greek Religion: What’s Sacrae about Leges Sacrae? Laura Gawlinksi, Loyola University, Chicago Toward a Deep Map of Archaic and Classical Burial Grounds and Sanctuaries: The Case Study of Thasos Donald E. Lavigne, Texas Tech University; Evan Levine, Texas Tech University; and Andrej Petrovic, Durham University The Epigraphy of Greek Sacrificial Butchery Mat Carbon, Saxo Institute, University of Copenhagen An Esthetic of Greek Religious Practices Jon Mikalson, University of Virginia

From Document to History: Introduction

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Dedications from the Dead? The Strange Case of Hermes Chthonios Maria Mili, British School at Athens, and Jenny Wallensten, Swedish Institute at Athens Divine Utterances. Answers in the Oracular Tablets from Dodona Elena Martin Gonzalez, National Hellenic Research Center, Athens The Self-Definition of Alexander the Great Fred Naiden, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill A Prosopography of Athenian Priests and Priestesses during the Roman Imperial Period Francesco Camia, Sapienza: University of Rome Inscribed Incantations for Bleeding: A Hematite Gem and its Tradition Michael Zellmann-Rohrer, UC Berkeley Poster Sessions Immigration Epigraphy: The Hispani in Roman Europe Cristina de la Escosura Balbás, Complutense University of Madrid Labour Mobility in the Roman World: A Case Study of Mines in Iberia Clare Holleran, University of Exeter Contextualizing Greek defixiones in the Latin West Celia Sánchez Natalias, Basque Country University/Euskal Herriko Unibertsitatea 3

This Volume

The 23 papers published here represent a selection of those delivered at the conference; a companion volume, with papers on Greek epigraphy and religion in honor of Sara Aleshire, is currently being prepared by Emily Mackil and Nikolaos Papazarkadas.4 The papers examine texts ranging chronologically from the sixth century BCE to the fifth century CE, and geographically from Egypt and Asia Minor to the west European continent and British isles. Some focus on the great urban centers of the ancient world, while others turn their attention to less intensively studied areas.5 A number of salient themes 4 This volume is also slated to appear in the Brill Studies in Greek and Roman Epigraphy series. 5 In his review of Ancient Documents and their Contexts (above, n. 1), Raynor notes (250) the geographical focus on Attica, amongst the Greek papers, and the chronological focus on the first two centuries CE, amongst the Latin. He contrasts these foci with what he sees in the European epigraphic scholarship, with its “intense epigraphic investigation of relatively small and obscure polities.” “Perhaps the shadow of Louis Robert,” he concludes, “casts a shorter shadow west of the Atlantic.” Whether or not this is an accurate characterization of

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emerge from the collection as a whole. We see Greek and Roman epigraphies of time (Chaniotis, Rocca), and space (Carusi, Kaye, Rocca). There are Latin inscriptions from the Greek East (Cooley) and Greek inscriptions from the Roman West (Sánchez Natalías). Individuals and social groups appearing in our texts run the whole gamut from Roman emperors (Frampton, Bertolazzi, Sourlas) and imperial elites (Dawson, Álvarez Melero) to orphans (Dmitriev), laborers (Carusi), and slaves (Luciani). We also find artists (Keesling), gladiators (Campbell), and immigrants (Escosura Balbás). Characteristic ancient social and political practices abound in these inscriptions, including diplomacy (Souza), benefaction and honorific practice (Dmitriev, Sourlas, Bertolazzi, Dawson), magic (Sánchez Natalías), and spectacle entertainment (Campbell, Sheppard). The papers also shed new light on epigraphic habits in antiquity (Chaniotis, Kaye, Keesling, Rosenmeyer), the use and function(s) of graffiti (Frampton, Benefiel, Sypniewski, Damer, DiBiasie Sammons), and the collection and display of inscriptions in the modern period (Liddel and Low, Cooley). Several papers, especially those dealing with the Pompeian graffiti, highlight the new technologies that are transforming our understanding of ancient inscriptions. And there are also, of course, a handful of new texts published here for the first time (Themos and Zavvou, Liddel and Low, Sourlas, Bertolazzi, Cooley). In light of this spectacular abundance of topics, we have chosen to organize our papers not thematically, but rather chronologically and regionally, with the two keynote papers serving as “bookends” to the collection as a whole. We would also like to draw attention to an organizing principle that departs from that of the proceedings of the First Congress, which is the division between Greek and Roman, as opposed to Greek and Latin, epigraphies. A typology based on the language of the inscriptions is perfectly valid, of course, but we are especially keen here to draw out the historical significance of these texts— hence the title of the volume—and given that the ancient Mediterranean, especially during the centuries of Roman imperial ascendancy, was a polyglot world, we felt that an historical and regional division, as opposed to a linguistic one, was most appropriate.6

the North-American and European epigraphic traditions (there is probably some truth to it), we like to believe that Robert would have approved of the geographical and chronological range of the papers in this volume! 6 Readers should note, therefore, that there are several papers in Parts II (The Roman West) and III (The Roman East) that feature inscriptions in Greek. The overall balance of papers by ancient language is eleven (Greek) and twelve (Latin).

PART 1 Classical and Hellenistic Greece

⸪

Chapter 1

Epigraphy of the Night Angelos Chaniotis 1

The Night as a Historical Chronotope

Monty Python’s Life of Brian is the best movie ever made on a historical subject. The question “What have the Romans ever done for us” has inspired generations of historians, and the representation of religious quests in Judaea is as accurate as any modern study; whether Pontius Pilatus’ wife was really called Incontinentia still remains a puzzle. The starting point of my discussion is a famous scene: a member of the People’s Front of Judea is assigned the task of filling a wall with the phrase “Romans Go Home,” and successfully deals with the syntactic and grammatical challenges of Latin with the help of a native speaker. The graffito Romani ite domum is the most famous example of the epigraphy of the night. This nocturnal episode in Monty Python’s masterpiece reflects narratives about similar episodes in Rome in the Late Republic and Imperial period and graffiti found in Pompeii. In the last days of Caesar’s rule, statues of Brutus, the founder of the Republic, as well as the rostra and the praetor’s seat were allegedly covered with graffiti encouraging Brutus’ descendant to follow the example of his famous ancestor and kill the tyrant.1 Such graffiti were written during the night, even if the sources do not explicitly say so.2 But sometimes our sources do state that graffiti were written during the night by people opposing authority. According to Suetonius (Tib. 52.3), after Germanicus’ murder people wrote the phrase “Give us Germanicus back!” (redde Germanicum) on walls and used the same phrase in acclamations during the night (quae multifariam inscriptum et per noctes celeberrime adclamatum est). Although per noctes only refers to acclamatum, it is clear that Tiberius’ opponents could have only created their graffiti while they were protected by the darkness. Such an epigraphy of the night is not limited to Rome. Describing the reaction of the population of Alexandria during the struggle for power that followed the death of Ptolemy IV in 205 BCE, Polybius writes (15.27.4): “The 1 The sources in Zadorojnyi 2011: 124–25. Explicit reference to the night in Plut. Caes. 62.7. Other examples of graffiti with political content in Rome in Zadorojnyi 2011: 119–29. 2 Some sources only mention the secrecy of the writing: e.g. App., B Civ. 2.16.112 (λᾴθρα).

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people, enraged at all this, no longer discussed this in private or in secrecy; instead, some people were writing inscriptions in every place during the night (τὰς νύκτας εἰς πάντα τόπον ἐπέγραφον), while others gathered during the day and openly directed their hatred against the government.” Even at a time when public wrath openly manifested itself, writing on the walls remained an activity of the night. Such an epigraphy of the night naturally flourished at times of political conflicts. During Augustus’ reign, the philosopher Athenodoros returned from Rome to his hometown Tarsos. When he found the city dominated by the poet and demagogue Boethos, he used the authority given to him by Augustus to send Boethos and his followers into exile. Thereupon, Boethos’ partisans: wrote against him on the walls. “Deeds are for the young, counsels for the middle-aged, but farts for the old men.” When Athenodoros took the inscription as a joke, he ordered to add “thunders for old men.” But then someone, who despised all decency and had a loose belly, came in the night to his house and profusely bespattered the door and the wall. When Athenodoros brought accusations in the assembly against that faction, he said: “One may recognize the city’s illness and disaffection in many ways, and in particular from its excrement”. Strabo 14.5.14

Of the two attacks against Athenodoros, a time frame is only given for the scatological, but we can assume that the verbal attack via graffito took place during the night as well. Nocturnal graffiti were also weapons in conflicts of a private nature. In Lucian’s Courtesans’ Dialogues (10.4), two prostitutes, Drosis (‘fresh as dew’) and Chelidonion (‘the little sparrow’), discuss possible strategies for getting back at the philosopher Aristainetos, who was preventing Drosis’ lover, Kleinias, from visiting her. Chelidonion volunteers to help in a slander campaign: “I think that I will write on the wall in Kerameikos ‘Aristainetos is corrupting Kleinias.’” When Drosis wonders how Chelidonion can do this without being seen, her friend responds: “By night, Drosis, taking charcoal from somewhere.” These few passages from literary sources concern nocturnal activities in ancient cities—a subject that neither ancient historians nor epigraphists have systematically studied. We primarily perceive the Greek world through daytime activities: debating in the assembly, fighting on the battlefield, creating art, going to the theater, sacrificing in a sanctuary, training in the gymnasium, going to the agora, working in the fields. But no history of Greek culture can be complete without consideration of Greek nights, and accordingly, Greek and

Epigraphy of the Night

15

Roman epigraphy also needs to consider the epigraphy of the night. Since, to the best of my knowledge, the concept of the ‘epigraphy of the night’ has never been used before, some definitions are necessary. By ‘epigraphy of the night’ I do not mean the nocturnal work of modern epigraphists, who use artificial light in order to read illegible inscriptions. I also do not mean nocturnal discussions among students of epigraphy, discussions that take place in Mediterranean countries that are rich in both inscriptions and culinary traditions—but not rich in funds needed for the study of inscriptions. Such encounters are ‘epigraphy of the night’ too, but the epigraphy of the night I will be referring to here is of another kind. By ‘epigraphy of the night’ I designate inscriptions that were either written in the night or were meant to be read in the night. As I shall argue, the epigraphy of the night is a phenomenon of Greek social and cultural history that deserves special attention and contributes to the study of the history of the night in the Greek world. But first, allow me to briefly explain an important feature of the reception of the night that is of some relevance. In cultures that exist in geographical areas that have a more or less even division of night and day, the ‘night’ is a marked time and a marked word, a time, space, and term that carries special social and cultural meaning.3 This is due to the polarity of day and night, a polarity that has prevailed for millennia and has not been defeated even by modern technology. So, in our everyday language the word ‘night’ can be used to give emphasis to a statement and underscore its emotional weight. A good example is Cole Porter’s “Night and Day”: Night and day, you are the one / Only you ‘neath the moon or under the sun / Whether near to me or far / It’s no matter, darling, / where you are. / I think of you day and night. By cancelling the partition of day and night the song expresses the intensity of desire. Saying “I think of you” is one thing; saying “I think of you by day” is an ambiguous statement that might not generate a lot of enthusiasm; but saying “I think of you night and day” is an emphatic, unconditional expression of an emotion. This usage has not changed for millennia. The mention of the night, a marked word, underlines the weight of a statement, a commitment, or a wish. This is why we often find the expression “by day and by night” in ritual texts such as oaths and curses.4

3 On the historical aspects of the night see Chaniotis 2018 (with further bibliography). 4 For examples see Chaniotis 2018: 5.

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Ordinary activities of the day also acquired a special meaning when they took place in the night: dancing, sacrificing, debating, and, as we shall see, writing. For example, debates in Athens during the day took place in the assembly, the law-court, the market, or the gymnasium, that is, in places that, at least in theory, were accessible to all the citizens. The debates that took place in the night were usually exclusive: debates among the prytaneis, the members of hetaireiai, and the guests of a symposium. The products of such exclusive debates range from Plato’s philosophical dialogues to conspiracies and acts of violence. Debate by day is open and inclusive, debate by night is exclusive and potentially subversive. We recognize a similar polarity in the writing on the walls: When done by day, it was an activity sanctioned by authority: decrees, laws, public accounts, official letters, lists of magistrates, and public announcements could all be written on the walls by day. These texts originated from civic authorities; they insinuated concord and order; they dictated norms. As the aforementioned examples show, nocturnal writing on walls was not communal, but rather carried out by the individual or the small group; it triggered conflict, instead of establishing concord; it was subversive and offensive. Therefore, socio-cultural parameters determine the circumstances under which inscriptions are produced nocturnally. But can we determine which inscriptions were written during the night? From the literary evidence and from papyri we do know that letters and erotic poems were often written in the night (e.g. Meleagros, Greek Anthology 5.166, 191, 197). But it is clearly impossible to determine which letter, now preserved on the fragment of a pot or a sheet of metal, was engraved during the night. Admittedly, emotionality tends to increase during the night, but this can never be used as an argument in favor of the hypothesis that a particular letter originates in the strong emotionality of a sleepless night, in feelings of fear, despair, jealousy, unreturned love, or sexual desire. One may suspect that the emotional letter of a boy to his mother, asking her to rescue him from his misery in an Attic workshop was written in the night: Lesis is sending (this letter) to Xenokles and to his mother by no means to overlook that he is perishing in the foundry but to come to his masters and find something better for him. For I have been handed over to a man thoroughly wicked; I am perishing from being whipped; I am tied up; I am treated like dirt—and more and more.5 5 Jordan 2000b; SEG L 276 (Athens, early fourth century BCE): Λῆσις {ΙΣ} ἐπιστέλλει Ξενοκλεῖ καὶ τῆι µητρὶ µηδαµῶς περιιδε͂ν | αὐτὸν ἀπολόµενον ἐν τῶι χαλκείωι, ἀλλὰ πρὸς τὸς δεσπότας αὐτο̃

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We may also suspect that Phila in Pella (fourth century BCE) wrote her frustrated letter in the loneliness of the night, in which she asked a prematurely deceased man to keep all other women away from the man she loved. I quote this text because its emotional overtones are interesting, not because I claim that it was written at nighttime, although it was certainly deposited in the grave during the night:6 I write down the marriage and the intercourse of Thetima and Dionysophon, also that of all other women and widows and girls; but above all that of Thetima. And I deposit this with Makron and the demons. And whenever I collect this again and read it, digging it up, only then shall Dionysophon get married, but not earlier. He shall not take another woman, but me; and I shall grow old together with Dionysophon, and no other. I become your suppliant; show mercy to Phila, dear demons, for I have been abased (?) by all who are dear to me and I am deserted. But take care of all this for me, so that this does not happen and Thetima gets lost in the worst manner.—and I shall be happy and blessed—. Speculations about whether these texts and similar ones were written during the night are in vain. Yet literary and other sources allow us to know what kind of inscriptions are most likely to have been written and read in the night: graffiti, spontaneous sympotic inscriptions, possibly some letters, magical texts, and some inscriptions on instrumentum domesticum. 2

Nocturnal Graffiti

I start with the graffiti, since I have already mentioned some of the relevant literary sources. Graffiti are texts (and images) of unofficial character scratched, painted, or written with charcoal on objects whose primary function was not to serve as bearers of such images and inscriptions. Context, rather than content, makes a text or an image a graffito.7 Let us use accounts as an example. Accounts that are written on papyrus, wax tablets, or stone stelae are not graffiti, because these are absolutely normal media for the keeping of accounts. But when an account is engraved on the wall of a house, as in Hanghaus 2 ἐλθε͂ν | καὶ ἐνευρέσθαι τι βέλτιον αὐτῶι· ἀνθρώπωι γὰρ παραδέδοµαι πάνυ πονηρῶι· | µαστιγόµενος ἀπόλλυµαι· δέδεµαι· προπηλακίζοµαι· µᾶλλον µᾶ[λ]ον. Cf. Harvey 2007. 6 Voutiras 1998; SEG XLIII 434. 7 Langner 2001: 12; Chaniotis 2011: 193–96.

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at Ephesus, then we are dealing with a graffito.8 A declaration of love on papyrus or on an ostrakon is a love letter. However, when it is written on a rock or on the wall of a public building,9 it becomes a graffito. Texts on vases advertising the quality of the vase, labeling the images, praising the beauty of a young man, or otherwise directly referring to the vase are not graffiti if they were painted or engraved by the potter or the painter while the vase was being made. Furthermore, graffiti always have an unofficial character. Sometimes (although not always), they are created without the permission of the owner of the physical object on which they appear. To judge from a graffito from Ostia (second century CE), whose author threatens “all those who write on walls” with πυγίζω, a verb that designates anal sex,10 graffiti were as annoying in antiquity as they are today.11 But sometimes graffiti were written with the permission of or by the owner of the object, e.g., the many graffiti and dipinti on the walls of houses (see n. 8) or numerous graffiti on vases (see below). Graffiti were written on walls by day and by night, usually on the plaster that covered the walls; they were often written with charcoal but they were also painted or incised.12 Graffiti were also engraved with mason’s tools on stone blocks or rocks, but this required more effort and, of course, light. So, it is unlikely that graffiti engraved on stone were made during the night, although we cannot rule this out. Texts and images made by ephebes or soldiers, usually of obscene nature,13 may well have been made during the night service of guards. We have a better chance of recognizing nocturnal graffiti that were incised or written with charcoal or paint on plastered walls. Unfortunately, most of these graffitti have been lost forever, together with the plaster of ancient buildings. It is only under extraordinary circumstances that they have been preserved. Although the Greek and Roman East does not provide these sorts of graffiti in numbers comparable to Pompeii, Herculaneum, or Rome, we 8 9 10

11 12 13

E.g. SEG LV 1172, 1181, 1188, 1189, 1191, 1199, 1241; SEG LX 1184, 1185, 1187–1190. On these graffiti see Taeuber 2005 and 2010; cf. Ladstätter 2012: 184–88. E.g. IG XII 6 1213; Chaniotis 2011: 205. Della Corte and Ciprotti 1961 no. 61 = Kruschwitz 2010: 209–10 no. 5: Πάντες δια|γράφουσι, ἐγὼ µό|νος οὐδὲν ἔγραψα· | πυγίζω πάντε̣ς τούτ[ους οἳ] || ἐπὶ τοίχο γράφουσι (“Everyone writes. I alone have written nothing. I bugger all those who write on the wall”). For a different reading see Rea 1979: πυγίζω πάντας τοὺς ἐπιτοιχογράφους. On the meaning of πυγίζω see Bain 1991, 67–70. Kruschwitz 2010. See the graffiti from Smyrna: Bagnall et al. 2016: 40–41. The rupestral obscene or homoerotic graffiti of Thera may have been written by ephebes or guards. Most recent publication and discussion: Inglese 2008: 394–403 nos. 29–32, 35?, 39?, 42, 43. For an obscene graffito on a block of the fortification wall of Aphrodisias see Chaniotis 2011: 204.

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still have a significant number of specimens from a few locations, including a building in Nymphaion, on the north shore of the Black Sea, in the basement level of the basilica in the agora of Smyrna, in houses on Delos and in Ephesus, Zeugma, and Dura-Europos, and in the bouleuterion of Aphrodisias.14 In addition to these larger groups, we have interesting isolated examples elsewhere, e.g., in a grave in Pella (see below). Context and content permit the tentative hypothesis that some of these graffiti are specimens of the epigraphy of the night. Let us consider the graffiti in a grave in Pella.15 The grave was built in the fourth century BCE, but it received visitors in the first century BCE and again in the third century CE. The earliest intruders were probably tomb robbers. However, the grave was also visited by people who wrote their names on the walls; tomb robbers usually do not identify themselves. We can then infer that these visitors were no tomb-robbers. Since only family members entered built graves during the day, whether to conduct a new burial or to perform rituals, these visitors probably came during the night. Their obscene texts reveal a rather light mood. The verb πυγίζω (‘to bugger’) threatens “those who entered first,” “those who have written on the wall,” and “those who wrote on the wall again.”16 Content can also serve as an indicator of the time at which a graffito was written. The erotic and obscene graffiti found in the building at Nymphaion (late fourth-late third centuries BCE) that was visited by sailors and is thought to have been a shrine of Aphrodite are a case in point.17 Many of them certainly refer to nocturnal expectations and experiences: “Theodora to Pitthon, greetings. You shall treat me well; you shall keep me awake all night”; “How sweet it is to have sex!”; “a woman- - -resting with a man.”18 A second group consists of obscene texts in which the word πυγίζω is used to insult people by claiming that they have been the passive party in anal sex. “All inhabitants of Nymphaion take it up the ass”; ‘Bouzounon, son of Dionysios,

14

15 16 17 18

Nymphaion: SEG XXXIV 756; XXXVIII 752; XXXIX 701; XLV 997; LVI 894; LIX 836; LXI 625. Smyrna: Bagnall et al. 2016. Delos: Zarmakoupi 2017. Ephesus: Rahmayr 2017; see also note 8. Zeugma: SEG LV 1547–1581; LVII 1768; see also n. 32. Dura/Europos: Baird 2017. Aphrodisias: Roueché 1992, 38–42. Chrysostomou 1998. SEG XLVII 933: πυγίζω κατὰ τῶν πρώτων εἰσελθόντων, πυγίζω κατὰ τῶν γεγραπότων, and πυγίζω κατὰ τῶν ἐπαναγεγραπότων. On the building see Grac 1987; on the inscription see notes 18–21. SEG LVI 894(4): [Θ]εοδώρα Πίτθωνι χαίρειν· καλῶς ποήσεις µε, ἀγρυπνίσεις µε. SEG LIX 836(3): ὡς τὸ βεινεῖν ἐστιν γλ̣ [υκύ]. SEG LIX 836(4): ἀναπαυµένη µετ’ ἀνδρὸς [- - -] γυνή. On β(ε)ινέω see Bain 1991: 54–62.

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Dionysios, is buggered by Myriskos, the fag”; “NN have had anal sex on sea.”19 The repetition of various forms of πυγίζω (ἐπυ{πυ}γιζ[…]ς ὁ πυγιστεὶς ἀγαθῇ ἀγαθῇς [- - πυγί]ζειν πάντας ἐπύγισε) seems not to be a grammatical exercise on the conjugation of πυγίζω but a joke.20 Finally, a small group of texts names people who allegedly had anal sex with family members: “Dioskourides buggered his father; and he was saying, ‘How nice! How nice!’”; “- - the father of Theomneste - - he had anal sex with his daughter.”21 Needless to say, in all these cases πυγίζω is used as an insult. These graffiti do not describe actual events, but rather aim at humiliating people. If we move from Nymphaion to the agora of Smyrna, there are indications that the crypto-portico of a basilica, where a very large number of graffiti and dipinti has been found (published in an exemplary manner by Roger Bagnall and his collaborators), was visited during the night. One graffito records a man’s dedication of lamps that he had vowed in return for healed eyes.22 If the dedication of lamps is connected with nocturnal visits—although this is not necessarily the case since artificial lighting must also have been needed during the day—then at least some of the erotic or obscene graffiti may be the work of nocturnal visitors. They give us an idea of the jokes they made and the discussions they had. We find depictions of male genitals23 and our familiar verb πυγίζω (here also πυγίζοµαι, ‘I bottom’),24 jokes (“Friend, has it escaped your notice that you are a bastard?”),25 but also declarations of love of a type well represented in Pompeii and Stabiae (see note 35), with the name of the woman hidden in the sum of the arithmetic value of its letters: “I love the one whose

19 20 21 22 23 24

25

SEG LXI 625(1): πυγίζονται πάντ̣ες | Νυµφαῖται. SEG LXI 625(8): Βουζουνον | ∆ιονυσίου ∆ιονύσιος πυγίζεται | [ὑ]πὸ Μυρίσκου τοῦ κιναίτου. SEG LVI 894(5): Παταρας πυγίζενταν ἐπὶ θαλάσῃ ∆υνυσίδωρος | ΕΙΣΤΟ∆ΑΡΧΟΝ. SEG LXI 625(16). SEG LIX 836(1): ∆ειοσκουρίτης πατέραν ἐπύγειζε καὶ αὐτ{τ̣}ὸς ἔλεγε· καλῶς καλῶς. SEG LIX 836(2): Θεο̣µ̣ ν̣ή̣σθης πατέρα [- - -] θυγατέραν βεβείνεκε. Bagnall et al. 2016: 42–43 no. 16.1 = SEG LXI 972, 125 CE: Χαρίας ὁ κα[ὶ] Λ̣ οῦκος εὐξάµενος περὶ τῶν ὀφθα̣λµῶν τοὺς λύχνους ἀπέδωκε, ἔτους σιʹ (“Charias, alias Loukos, having made a vow for his eyes dedicated in return the lamps, in the 210th year”). Bagnall et al. 2016: nos. 5.2, 8.1/2, 11.5, 16.1, 24.1–3, 25.1–3, 25.9, 26.2, 29.12, 100.1. Bagnall et al. 2016: nos. 14.3.3 (ἐπ ̣ ̣ ύ̣γ̣ισα?, “I buggered”), 42.1 (ἄγγελος π̣ υγίζει µ̣ έ, “a messenger [or Angelos] buggers me”); 109.1 (ὁ καὶ πυγίσαι τὸν ἀναγινόσκοντα, “and bug̣ ύγ̣ι ̣σα, “I buggered; and I buggered”); 25.2 ger the reader also”); 109.3 (ἐπ ̣ ύ̣γ̣ι ̣σα καὶ γὼ ἐπ (SEG LXI 953: πυγίζοµαι, “I am being buggered”); 103.3 (πυγίζεται, “he is being buggered”); Cf. 11.1: ψωλή (“prick”). Bagnall et al. 2016: no. 52.1 (SEG LXI 954): φίλ’ ἐλάθει ὢν ⟨ν⟩όθ{η}ˋοˊς. Cf. a reference to the killing of an adulterer in no. 6.1 (SEG LXI 959).

Epigraphy of the Night

21

number is 1308” (Tyche); “I love the one whose number is 731” (Anthousa).26 In two cases the identity of the object of desire is not revealed: “(I only love) one woman;”27 “Cha[- -] commemorated the beautiful lady.”28 A man with a broken heart commented: “women are ungrateful.”29 One text may refer to the love of a woman for another woman. If the reading [φι]λ̣ ῶ φ[ιλ]οῦσα µὴ φιλοῦσαν is correct, the text can be translated as “I love, loving one who does not love me.”30 Given this context, I think the phrase θελητὴ ἡ κυρία does not refer to the Virgin Mary, as Roger Bagnall cautiously hypothesized in his Sather Lectures,31 but simply means “the lady is willing” or rather “the lady is desirable.”32 As we shall see later, these teasing and amorous texts are very similar with those we find in sympotic contexts. We have a good chance of finding nocturnal graffiti in rooms that were used for typical evening and nighttime activities such as dining, drinking, and sleeping, especially when the texts refer to sex, conviviality, and the consumption of food and drink. In the Roman world we have such texts in Pompeian brothels and houses.33 An iambic triameter, which playfully invites young men to willingly accept to ‘bottom’, has been found on the walls of a house in Stabiae and in a Roman villa at Pully (Canton de Vaud, Switzerland): “if someone being a kalos (a fair youth) refused to get buggered, may he not get a fuck, if he falls in love with a beautiful woman.”34 We also find isopsephic references to the female object of desire in houses in Pompeii and Stabiae, e.g., “the number of the woman that I love is 51” (Thalia), or “Amerimnos commemorated Harmonia, his own lady, for good fortune; the number of her sweet name is 1035 (or 545).”35 In Ephesus, in the house of the consul Attalus Peterclianus, an inscription on a herm invites the guests to enjoy a banquet: “Friends, eat food and drink wine,

26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35

Bagnall et al. 2016: no. 27.3 (SEG LXI 955): φιλῶ ἧς ὁριθµὸς ATH; no. 24.2 = SEG LXI 956: φιλῶ ἧς ὁ ἀριθµὸ[ς] ΨΛΑ. See also Bagnall et al. 2016: nos. 5.1 (SEG LXI 957), 22.1, 42.2. For a discussion, see Bagnall et al, 2016: 48–52. SEG LXI 957: µίαν. Bagnall et al. 2016: no. 78.2: ἐµήσθη Χα̣[- -] τῆς καλῆς ̣ κ̣ υ̣λίας. Bagnall et al. 2016: no. 100.6: γυνὴ ἀχάριστον. Bagnall et al. 2016: 290–92 no. 29.1 (SEG LXI 958). Bagnall 2011: 23 (SEG LXI 974). See my comment in SEG LXI 974; cf. now Bagnall et al. 2016: 421 no. 100.2. McGinn 2002; Varone 2002; Benefiel 2017. The full text is preserved in Stabiae (SEG XLVI 1352): εἴ τις καλός γ᾿ ὢν οὐκ ἔδωκε πυγίσαι, καλῆς ἐρασθεὶς µὴ τύχοι βινήµατος; for the text from Pully, see SEG LXIII 830. SEG LV 1052: ἧς φιλῶ ὁ ἀριθµὸς να΄. CIL IV 4839: Ἀµέριµνος ἐµνήσθη Ἁρµονίας τῆς ἰδίας κυρίας | ἐπ᾿ ἀγαθῷ ἧς ὁ ἀριθµὸς ͵αλε΄ (or φµε΄) τοῦ καλοῦ ὀνόµατος (Pompeii). For Stabiae, see SEG LXIII 812–13.

22

Chaniotis

enjoying Attalus’ merry feast” (ca. 200 CE).36 A witty graffito in the House of Dionysos in Delos (first century BCE) may also be the product of the playful mood of men drinking, playing, and conversing during the night:37 “Demetrios is blind and he sees nothing while playing the game of knuckle-bones; Hermias turned (?) against him the knuckle-bones. I burn for him, Hermias.” The houses in Zeugma preserve a few interesting specimens painted and incised on wall paintings from the late second to the mid-third century CE.38 The graffito in the triclinium of a house seems to comment on the menu: “On the 2nd day of the month, a nice little piece (of meat?). A little piece was thrown into the pot.”39 Acclamations on the walls of a corridor commemorate a group of friends. “Hyakinthos is unique! Dios is unique! Demetrous is unique! The virtuous and good men!”; “Theodosios is unique!”;40 “Theodosios, Alexandros! Be fortunate Theodosios!”;41 “Good fortune to everyone who says ‘Theodosios is unique!’”42 Similar commemorative graffiti and acclamations are quite common in houses, and are also attested in houses in Dura-Europos.43 But a long text on the wall of the peristyle in the House of Poseidon in Zeugma, engraved next to an image of a man, is not praise but a joke at the expense of the man depicted next to the graffito: Ξάνθε̣, ἔφ[α]γες ̣ φορν⟨ί⟩|την ἑ[κ]α̣[τ]ὼ̣ ν (= ἑκατὸν) λίτρων | καὶ τ̣έ[σσαρα?] µολόχια προ[σ]|έφαγες.44 According to J.-M. Carbon’s plausible interpretation, φορνίτης is a variant of φουρνίτης (‘bread baked in an oven’) and µολόχια refers to portions of mallow, known for 36 37

38 39 40 41 42

43 44

Rahmayr 2017: 169–70 no. 5: ὦ φίλοι, ἐσθίετε βρώµην καί πείνετε οἶνον, Ἀττάλου εὐφροσύναις τερπόµενοι θαλίαις. Zarmakoupi 2017: 69: ∆ηµήτριος [τ]υφλ[ό]ς, οὐδὲ βλέπει οὐδὲν παί[σ]ων ἀστραγάλους· [ἀ]πέκαψψε αὐτῷ Ἑρµίας τοὺς ἀσ[τρ]αγάλους· φλέγ[ω] αὐτῷ, [Ἑρ]µίας. I understand [ἀ]πέκαψψε as the aorist of ἀποκάµπτω (“to turn aside”); Hermias cheated Demetrios in the game. On the graffiti and paintings in Zeugma see J.-B. Yon in Barbet et al. 2005: esp. 35–37, 43, 45–47, 54–56, 69–70, 87–89, 117–19, 149–55, 165–66, 214, 221 (SEG LV 1547–1581). SEG LV 1547: ∆ευτέρᾳ µηνὸς ̣ [—], | µορίδιν χρηστόν, | µορίδιν εἰς κύθρ||αν ἠνέχθη. Cf. Carbon 2016: 70: “On the second of the month, a little portion (is) nice. A little portion was brought into the pot;” he also considers the possible sexual allusions. SEG LV 1552: Εἷς ῾Υά|κιν|θος· | εἷς ∆ῖος· || εἷς ∆η|µητροῦς· | οἱ ἀγαθοὶ | καὶ καλοί. Εἷς Θεο|δό[σιος]. SEG LV 1554: [Θεο]|δόσει Ἀλέ|ξανδρε, | εὐτύχει | [Θεο]δόσει (my restorations). SEG LV 1556 (my reading): Πᾶς ὁ λέγων εὐτυχείτω· εἷς Θεοδόσι[ς]; cf. the translation by P.-L Gatier (apud Yon): “toute personne qui dit ‘Théodosios l’unique,’ bonne chance (à lui).” J.-B. Yon reads Πᾶς ὁ λέγων εὐτύχει εἷς Θεοδόσι[ος] and translates “tout le monde dit ‘bonne chance.’ Théodosios l’unique.” Baird 2017: 16–26. She assumes that the graffiti in the house of Lysias were sometimes made by visitors out of reverence for the house’s owner (Baird 2017: 21). SEG LV 1565, with my restoration in the app.cr. Carbon 2016: 71, prefers Ξάνθο⟨ς⟩ and προ|έφαγες (“you ate before”).

Epigraphy of the Night

23

its digestive properties. The text is a joke on Xanthos’ appetite and gluttony: “Xanthos, you ate a phornites weighing 100 lt., and then in addition to this you ate four molochia.”45 3

The Epigraphy of the Nocturnal Symposion

A light and playful mood that allows for obscene jokes and occasional insults certainly corresponds to the atmosphere of the banquet and the drinking party. The statutes of the club of the Iobakkchoi in Athens reflect the concern that some jokes may get out of control when a large group of men drinks together: No one is allowed to sing, to be loud or applaud in the dining room … If someone starts a quarrel or does not behave properly or goes to another bed or insults someone or uses defamatory words, the victim of the insult or of the defamation should present as witnesses two members, who can declare under oath that they have heard how this person has been insulted and defamed; and the one who has insulted or defamed shall pay to the club 25 drachmas as a fine.46 These graffiti bring me to a closely related group: graffiti on drinking vessels that were used in symposia. Context and content show that these texts were composed during drinking parties, and, therefore, mostly during the night. They reveal the same playful, erotic mood that we find in some graffiti on walls. Some of the earliest Greek inscriptions are most likely the products of oral communication during nocturnal banquets. The best known of these is the graffito on the Cup of Nestor from Pithekousai.47 I follow the view that this graffito plays on the contrast between the famous cup of Nestor in the Iliad and this particular cup:48 45 46 47 48

SEG LV 1565. IG II2 1368. Recent discussions: Baslez 2004: 118–20; Arnaoutoglou 2016. Main publications: CEG I 454; Arena 1994: no. 2; Dubois 1995: 22–28, no. 2. Extensive bibliography in SEG volumes and Gaunt 2017. For a discussion of the text in connection with the symposium see Danek 1994/95; Steinhart 2012. Wachter 2010: 252–54; Chaniotis 2011: 196–98, with bibliography; for a similar interpretation see Voutiras 2014: 89–91. A contrast between Nestor’s cup in the Iliad and this cup is accepted by many scholars, although they propose different restorations for the first verse: see esp. Gallavotti 1976: 216–19: Νέστορος µ̣ [ὲν] εὔποτ[ον] ποτέριον; Lombardi 2003: Νέστορος τ̣[ό γ᾿] εὔποτ[ον] ποτέριον; Wachter 2010: 252–54: Νέστορος ἐ[̣͂ ν τι] εὔποτ[ον] ποτέριον. Watkins 1976 restores ἐ[στι] and ingeniously recognizes a phonetic figure (νΕΣΤορος ΕΣΤι ευΠΟΤον ΠΟΤεριον; Watkins 1995: 102), but he still accepts that the poem

24

Chaniotis

It was pleasant to drink from Nestor’s drinking cup. Whoever drinks from this cup, here, will be momentarily seized by desire for Aphrodite, the beautifully-garlanded one. The Iliad describes Nestor’s cup as a large cup with four handles, richly decorated in gold. It required a strong man to lift it from the table when it was filled with wine.49 One cannot properly comprehend this epigram without looking at an image of the cup on which it was inscribed. For the Rhodian cup, with its very simple decoration, has nothing to do with the wonderfully decorated cup in the Iliad. It is exactly this contrast that reveals that this graffito is a joke made in the context of a drinking party. It is instantaneous poetry, one of the joyful voices of half-drunk men, surrounded by half-dressed girls, exchanging jokes over a half-emptied cup of wine. Whoever drinks from the cup will be seized by sexual desire, but a desire that cannot be satisfied, namely desire for the goddess of love. The grafitto is a joke based on contrasts: between the cheap cup of clay and the valuable cup of the Iliad; between the sexual desire that the cup promises, and the fact that the desire will not be satisfied; between the proverbial wisdom of the epic Nestor, and the loss of self-control through drinking and sexual desire. Composed on a particular occasion—possibly in Euboea—and inscribed with care at a later date, in such a manner that the lines of the inscription somewhat mirror the simple lines of the decoration, the text was read again and again, every time the cup was used, and brought to mind the joyful context of its composition. In the countless studies dedicated to the text, the exact finding place is rarely mentioned: the grave of a 10–14 year old boy,50 who was cremated in a ritual that may have emulated funerals like that of Patroclus.51 At some point, this cup was removed from its usual context of the symposium to be used in an entirely different ritual context: a funeral. We should now forget the joyful mood of the symposium. We should imagine a father who had lost a son or an adult man who had lost young a companion placing this cup into the grave. This individual did not choose this cup because it was no longer useful in a symposium, but because it had captured the joy of the symposium and

49 50 51

refers to two different cups: Nestor’s and the inscribed cup. The widely accepted restoration ἐ[µι] (cf. Dubois 1995: 24–25: Νέστορος ε̣[ἰµ]ι ̣ εὔποτ[ον] ποτέριον) does not allow for the humorous nature of the text. The restoration of Gerhard 2011 is too long: Νέστορος ἔ[ασον] εὔποτ[ον] ποτέριον. Hom. Il. 11.632–637. On the archaeological background of the vase described in the Iliad see most recently Voutiras 2014 and Gaunt 2017: 100–5. Buchner and Ridgway 1993: 212. Ridgway 1992: 49–50.

Epigraphy of the Night

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contained that memory. A boy who died before he had the chance to experience the joys this cup promised was given the cup as a compensation for a lost future;52 or perhaps a boy who had offered joy during the drinking parties was given a reminder of these joyful moments. It is only through the combination of text, material, and archaeological context that we can begin to understand this graffito as evidence for emotionality and intertextuality, ritual and memory, performance and male sexuality, but also of nocturnal culture. The humorous epigraphy of the night occasionally produced ambiguous texts. Another example is a kylix from Phanagoreia around 500 BCE. The text reads ΣΙΜΟΝ ΧΑΡΙΕΣΣΑ ΕΙΜΙ ΚΑΛΛΟΣ ΑΓΑΘΕ ΚΑΙ ΜΕΤΡΙΕ.53 The author gives the cup a voice and makes it address another person, Simon, praising both itself and Simon. But who is Simon? Σῖµον can be the name of a woman in the neuter form, which is how Laurent Dubois and Yuri Vinogradov understood this inscription. In that case, one might translate “I, Simon, I am full of grace, a beauty, good and moderate.”54 But Σίµον can also be the vocative of the male name Simon. In that case, the woman who passes the drinking cup over to a man is addressing him: “Hey, Simon! I am full of grace, a beauty, good and moderate.” To make things more complicated, the last two words are far from unambiguous. Dubois and Vinogradov read them as feminine forms (ἀγαθὴ καὶ µετρίη), praising a woman as virtuous and moderate; but the praise may also refer to the cup. We do have other cases of vases that are praised as µέτριος/µετρίη.55 But it is also possible to read ἀγαθὲ καὶ µέτριε as masculine vocatives. In that case Simon is praised as virtuous and moderate in drinking: “Hey, Simon! I am full of grace, a beauty, my good and moderate man!” If the speaker is a man, he praises a friend. But if the speaker is a courtesan who gives the vase to Simon, then she ambiguously refers the praise both to the vase and herself. In this reading the text can be translated: “Simon, I am full of grace and a beauty, my good and moderate man!” We will probably never know which interpretation is correct, nor do we need to. In the context of the nocturnal banquet’s conviviality, affection, and erotic mood, this witty ambiguity was intentional. Similarly, µέτριος | ἐγὸ on an Attic cup may refer to the vase (“I am a 52 53 54 55

Cf. Voutiras 2014: 89–91. SEG LI 991. Vinogradov 2000/2001: 79–80 reads: Σῖµον, χαρίεσσα· εἰµὶ κάλλος, ἀγαθὲ καὶ µετρίε (i.e. ἀγαθὴ καὶ µετρίη). L. Dubois, BE 2003: no. 394, reads: Σῖµον, χαρίεσσά εἰµι κάλλος, ἀγαθὲ καὶ µετρίε (i.e. ἀγαθὴ καὶ µετρίη). L. Dubois, BE 2003: 631 no. 394: “Ô Simon, je suis pleine de charme par ma beauté, bonne et mesurée”; cf. Vinogradov 2000/2001: 79–80: “Simon, my dear! I am myself beautiful, kind and moderate.” L. Dubois, BE 2003: no. 394, with reference to IGDGG I 167, in which µετρίη describes a hydria. See also below on SEG XXIX 390.

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Chaniotis

middle-sized cup”) or to its user, indirectly advising him to show moderation in drinking.56 In addition to praise and jokes we find also erotic courting. A vase from Martino (ca. 475–450 BCE) asserts: “Beautiful is Philista, yes, extremely beautiful; this is what you think, Kambylas.”57 Many graffiti survive which were, like this one, created in the sexually loaded atmosphere of the nocturnal symposium, in the presence of beautiful women and attractive boys. In this atmosphere, a symposiast may comment on another symposiast’s preferences, sometimes in an affectionate manner, sometimes with irony: “Fair is Lyseas, yes, this is what you think.”58 “You find the Sicilian woman beautiful, you, adulterer!”59 “Fair is the boy, treasurer/keeper of beautiful testicles” is written on a recently published cup from Elateia: παῖς καλός, hοραίον ὀρχιπέδον ταµίας.60 The pederastic and sympotic nature of the text cannot be doubted. The graffito was inscribed on an Attic red-figure cup of the Pithos Painter (ca. 510–500 BCE) with a symposiast depicted in the interior. It was inscribed after firing in the local alphabet of Phocis in the early fifth century BCE. But there are divergent views on whose testicles are referred to. According to Denis Rousset, who has offered an excellent analysis of the text, the inscription refers to the testicles of adult lovers. The young man is praised either as the ‘collecteur de belles bourses’ or as the master of his lovers’ virility and, thus, their ruler.61 However, the iconography of homoerotic courting, which usually depicts adult men displaying a vivid interest in boys’ genitals and not vice versa,62 supports, I think, a different interpretation: the boy is not only praised for his beauty but also for being in control of his desirable genitals and deciding whom he should favor.63 A graffito on an Attic skyphos found in a grave in Kephisia, in Attica (ca. 480–465 BCE), has on its exterior wall the names of six men.64 The names were inscribed after firing, each by a different hand. They were written stoichedon within a rectangular area marked off by an incised line, while the skyphos was held upside down. Three of the men are famous Athenians: Aristeides, Pericles, and Pericles’ brother Arriphron; as the editor cautiously but plausibly suggested, the six men drunk from the same cup in succession, turned it upside down, 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64

SEG XXIX 390. IG IX2 1 1862: Φιλίστα καλά, πάµπαν καλά | τ{ε}οι δοκε͂ Καβύλαι. ARV: 308 no. 3: Λυσέας καλός, ναιχὶ δοκεῖ τοι. Rotroff and Oakley 1992: 98 no. 148: Σικέλη καλή τοι δοκεῖ τῷ µοιχῷ. Rousset 2012a; SEG LXII 316. Rousset 2012a: 30–31. Dover 1978: figures B76, B250, B271, B598, R196a, R295, R520. See my comment in SEG LXII 316; cf. Rousset 2012b: 1685 with n. 57. Daskalaki 2010–13; SEG LXIII 66.

Epigraphy of the Night

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and scratched their names. The graffito commemorates libations (see below note 70) during a symposion. A final example of interaction and jokes among friends is a graffito on a cup from Centuripae in Sicily, found in a cemetery (third century BCE).65 The legible text reads: “This cup belongs to Artemon, who used to belong to Theodota; now he is his friends’ slave” (Ἀρτέµωνος τοῦ τᾶς Θευδότας γενοµένου, νῦν | δ᾿ ἔστι δοῦλος τῶν φίλων). Some incised lines underneath this text may commemorate the use of the cup by a group of friends.66 The editor, G. Manganaro assumed that the cup was used in the funerary banquet for Theodota, the deceased owner of Artemon and other slaves; “Artemon ha celebrato la sua liberazione da schiavo per la morte della padrona Theodota.”67 This interpretation cannot be correct. As the phrase δοῦλος τῶν φίλων clearly shows, δοῦλος is used metaphorically. Indeed, slavery is a very common metaphor for love.68 Artemon was either the former husband of Theodota–γενόµενος can have this meaning69— or, far more likely, he had been ‘enslaved’ by the woman he loved; freed from his love, he finally belonged only to his friends. The cup was used in a funerary context, but it must have been inscribed during a drinking party among friends, not during a funerary banquet. 4

Were Inscriptions Read during the Night?

I now turn to the second part of the epigraphy of the night: inscriptions that were read during the night. A small first group consists of inscriptions on vases that were primarily, but not exclusively, used in symposia. Inscriptions known as γραµµατικὰ ἐκπώµατα or ποτήρια γραµµατικά (‘drinking vessels with letters’: Eubulus fr. 69, Kassel-Austin PCG; Lucian Lexiphanes 7) were incised after firing and explain the use of the vase for libations, usually via a name or a word in the genitive. The inscription gives a god, a friend or benefactor, a beautiful woman, an abstract idea, or a value that the symposiasts toasted: e.g., “To the 65 66 67 68

69

SEG LX 1004; Biondi and Manganaro 2010: 52–56. Manganaro in Biondi and Manganaro 2010: 55 reads: ΓΑ͜ΡΙΙΠΠΠΙΙΙΙ∆ΙΙΙΑΝΙΛΥΠΦΟΛ͜Ι ∆ΑΡΤΕΜΙΤΙ ΙΙΙ ∆ΙΙΙΙ. Manganaro in Biondi and Manganaro 2010: 55–56. E.g. Audollent, DefixTab 271: ποίησον αὐτὸν ὡς δοῦλον αὐτῇ ἐρῶντα ὑποτεταχθῆναι (“make him be subjected to her as a slave, desiring her”); cf. IG XII 6 1213: Σωσίππη δέσποινα ἐµή, χρυσῆ (“Sosippe, my golden lady/mistress”); SEG LV 1052: Ἀµέριµνος ἐµνήσθη Ἁρµονίας τῆς ἰδίας κυρίας (Amerimnos commemorated Harmonia, his own lady/mistress”). E.g. IG XII 7 206: Ῥώδα Τηνιακή, γυνὴ γενοµένη Ἀνδρίωνος (“Rhoda of Tenos, formerly wife of Andrion”); TAM III 1 733: Αὐρ. Πραπίς, γυνὴ γενοµένη Μ. Αὐρ. Λεοντίου (“Aurelia Prapis, formerly wife of M. Aurelius Leontios”).

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Good Daemon,” “to the rescuing Zeus,” “to Zeus, the patron of friendship,” “to friendship,” “to love,” “to Diokles,” “to Heliodora,” and so on.70 Other texts were meant to create the right mood of conviviality and joy among the symposiasts by inviting them to drink or to drink and be merry: “Be happy and drink well!” is a common encouragement on Little-masters cups.71 A kylix invites the guests to drink with the inscription “wine, sweet to drink” (ὑδήποτος). Another, larger group of graffiti that can be associated with nocturnal activities and were, therefore, mainly read during the night are the numerous texts that designate a vase as the common property of a group of symposiasts, friends, and club members: “This vase is common property”; “I belong to Pantares, and I am jointly owned by the friends”; or “I am jointly owned by Iphidamos, Aretides and Meinon. Do not steal me! Whoever wishes may use me!”72 Graffiti that aim at deterring theft are quite common, including curses against potential thieves: “Of the fair Panteles I am the fair cup,” announces a metrical graffito; another warns, “I belong to Echekrates. Put me down, friend!”73 A very early graffito from Methone (late eighth century BCE) threatens anyone who steals the cup with blindness.74 Inscribed vases that were used during the night include, of course, inscribed lamps and glass vases. But I would like to draw attention to two groups of inscriptions that are closely associated with nocturnal epigraphical culture: plates with mythological images and quotations from literary texts, which could have inspired discussions during the banquet, and drinking vessels that alluded to the pleasures that would follow the feast. On late second century BCE molds 70

71 72 73 74

Ἀγαθοῦ ∆αίµονος: SEG LVIII 550 (Akanthos, ca. 400–350 BCE); Diod. Sic. 4.3.4. ∆ιὸς Σωτῆρος: SEG LVI 547 (Thebes, Hellenistic); SEG LIX 647 (Amphipolis, undated); Diod. 4.3.4. ∆ιὸ[ς] Φιλίου: SEG LV 705 (Pella, Hellenistic); SEG XLV 780 (Pella, ca. 330). Φιλίας: IG IX2 1 1903 (Halai, Hellenistic); SEG LVI 546 (Thebes, Hellenistic). Ἔρωτος: SEG LVI 545 (Thebes, Hellenistic); Theoc. Id. 2.151–152. ∆ιοκλέος: Callim. Epigr. 29.1. Ἡλιοδώρας: Meleagros, Greek Anthology 5.136. For examples from literary sources see Alonso Déniz 2011: 235–40. For a parody of such toasts, see Eubulus fr. 93 (Kassel-Austin, PCG) (toasts to ὑγιεία, ἔρως, ἡδονή, ὕπνος, ὕβρις, βοή, κῶµοι, κλητήρ, ὑπώπια, χολή, µανία). E.g. Wachter 2003: 145–55. Other variants are “be happy and drink this!” and “be happy and drink!”. IG IX2 1 2000 (Kynos, Archaic): κοινά. SEG XVI 556 (Gela, ca. 500 BCE): Παντάρεός εἰµι καὶ το͂ν φίλον ϙοινά εἰµι. SEG XLV 1378 (Leontinoi, ca. 500–475 BCE): Ἰφ̣[ιδάµō (?), Ἀ]ρε[τίδεος (?) κα]ὶ̣ Μεί|νōνος ε̄µ̉ ὶ ϙο[ινε̄,́ µε̄́ µ]ε κλ|επτέναι, χρ̣[ε͂σ]θαι | δὲ τὸν θέλον|τα. IG IX2 1 1997 (Opous, fifth century BCE): καλο̃ Παντέλεος hα ποτερία καλά. IG IX2 1 1999 (Kynos, early fifth century BCE): Ἐχεκράτε̣[ός] ἐµι· κατ̣θές µε, φίλε. Tzifopoulos in Besios, Tzifopoulos and Kotsonas 2012: 424, 339–343 no. 2: hακεσάνδρο ἐµ[ὶ - c. 22 -]ΕΙ̣ΤΕΤΟ [- - c. 6 - -]ΜΕΚ[- c. 6 - ὀµ?]άτον στερέ|σ[ετ]α̣ι. The most probable restoration of the last part is the one suggested by A.P. Matthaiou (apud Tzifopoulos): [hὸς δ᾿ ἄν] µε κ[λέφσει ὀµµ]άτον στερέ|σ[ετ]α̣ι (“may whoever steals me be deprived of his eyes”).

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for bowls found in Pella, we find examples of both.75 Labels on bowls with images inspired by the epic cycle and Attic drama identify the protagonists: the Trojan Horse, the sack of Troy, the sacrifice of Polyxena, Odysseus and Polyphemus, and the slaying of the suitors.76 Similar relief bowls found elsewhere are of particular interest because they quote literary texts, possibly tragedies, and might, therefore, ultimately derive from illustrated manuscripts.77 For example, a representation of the sacrifice of Polyxena on a bowl found in Pherai is accompanied by a fragmentary literary quotation.78 A sherd of a bowl of unknown provenance (Boiotia?, early second century BCE) contains a quotation from a literary text, possibly a poem (the Aethiopis?) or a mythological treatise, referring to the death of Penthesilea.79 The second group of texts on the molds from Pella tell us what men whispered in the ears of courtesans. The relief bowls carried representations of sex scenes accompanied by texts:80 πρόσαγε (“come on!”), σχολή (“give me a break!”), ἐπίδος (“give an extra free performance!”), ἔα ἐµέ (“let me do it!”), ἔχω σε (“I got you”), ἄκρως (“all the way through,” “to the end”), ἴνναι (“girls”), ἔα δή (“let me do it!”), πρόσαγε δή (“come on”), ἄγε Κυνάριον (“come on, Kynarion!”, “come on, my puppy!”), ἄκρως γε (“all the way through”), Πάρδαλις (“leopard”), Κυνηγός (“the hunter”), ἀφελῶς γε (“in the simple manner,” what we would call today the “missionary position”). I mention in passing expressions of affection on gems, rings, and necklaces that were occasionally read during nocturnal encounters, e.g. “they say whatever they want; let them; I don’t care; you, just love me! It is beneficial to you” (λέγουσιν ἃ θέλουσιν· λεγέτωσαν· οὐ µέλι µοι· σὺ φίλι µε, συνφέρι σοι) or “if you love me, when I love you, the grace is double; but if you hate me, may you be 75 76 77 78 79

80

Akamatis 1993: 122–31, 136, 238–44, 247–61, 267–69, 284–90, 292–95, 301–2. For the inscriptions see also SEG XLV 785. SEG XLV 785 nos. 1–12 and 16. See also Touloumakos 1996: 200–1. On this type of relief cup, misleadingly called ‘Homeric bowls’ in earlier research, see Sinn 1979; Horsfall 1994: 66–67; Giuliani 2003: 263–80; Reinhardt 2008. Whether the images and texts were influenced by illustrated manuscripts is a subject of controversy. For arguments against this hypothesis, favored by Horsfall 1994, see Giuliani 2003: 263–80. See more recently Reinhardt 2008 and Chaniotis 2010: 271–72. SEG L 533 H: [- -]αις τῶ⟨ι⟩ παραλογισµῶι βού[λεται? | - -] ἀποκτεῖναι καὶ τῶι φρ[- - | - -]ς θεοῖς σφάξουσ᾿ αὖθ[ις?] (“- - the insanity, wishes - -, to kill - - to the gods they will slaughter again”). Zarkadas 2016: [- -]ος πεπνυµένος [- -|- -] φησὶν γὰρ Α[- -|- -]τη Ὀτρήρης [- -|- -]ς Πενθεσίλεια. Zarkadas suspects a poetic text (φησὶν γὰρ Ἀ[µαζών] or Ἀ[χιλλεύς] or Ἄ[ρης]). It is also possible that φησὶν γὰρ Α[- -] introduces an explanation about a certain version of the myth (e.g., φησὶν γὰρ Ἀ[ρκτῖνος]; ‘for A[rctinus] says/claims that - -’). In that case, the original was not a poem, but a mythological treatise. SEG XLV 785 nos. 13 and 14.

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hated as much as I love you” (εἴ µε φιλοῦντα φιλεῖς, δισσὴ χάρις, εἰ δέ µε µεισεῖς, τόσσον µεισηθείης ὅσσον ἐγώ σε φιλῶ).81 We can also imagine how teasing inscriptions, such as the one on a bronze ring with the text “and I for one do not give you even a penny” (first century CE),82 may have been read aloud in sympotic discourse, when the objects were exchanged or passed around.83 The best example is a group of eight silver spoons from Lampsakos (sixth century CE); each spoon has a literary quotation on one side and a witty comment on the other: e.g., “Bias of Priene declares most men to be bad” (side A), “yes, those who hate pleasure” (side B), or “love conquers all, and we all succumb to love” (side A), “eat, love-stricken man!” (side B).84 We note the similarity of all these texts with teasing graffiti from Nymphaion, Smyrna, and Zeugma (notes 18–21, 24, 25, and 44). Another large category of texts that were certainly read and possibly written during the night consists of magical texts, i.e., amulets offering protection from demons and ghosts, defixiones, and prayers for justice. As we know from literary sources and magical handbooks, magical rituals usually took place during the night. It was at this time that defixiones could be deposited in suitable places, such as baths, springs, wells, sanctuaries of chthonic deities, and graves of people who had died violently or prematurely.85 Magicians were known as “wanderers of the night” (nyktopoloi), and until Late Antiquity we find laws prohibiting nocturnal sacrifices and rites. A specific example of such a rite comes from a magical handbook, which gives instructions for a ceremony that would fill a woman with erotic desire for a man.86 The instructions include preparing wax figurines and inscribing a magical formula on a lead sheet. At sunset, the figurines, the sheet, and flowers were placed in the sarcophagus of an aoros and a long magical formula was recited. Other magic relied on lamps inscribed with magical texts, which were sometimes filled with lead sheets; the lamps were thrown into wells or buried.87 The graffiti and dipinti in Mithras sanctuaries, for instance in the Mithraeum of the Church of Santa Prisca in Rome and in the Mithraeum in Dura-Europos, 81 82 83 84 85 86 87

Bevilacqua 1991. SEG LXIII 1740 (unknown provenance): Ἐγὼ δέ γε οὐ δ|ίδωµί σοι οὐδ|ὲ κόλλυβον. See the comments of Rolf Tybout in SEG LXIII 1740. As he observed, the text may have erotic connotations. The ring may have been part of a set of rings with different teasing inscriptions. SEG XLII 1096: Τοὺς πλέονας κακίους δὲ Βίας | ἀπέφηνε Πριηνεύς—τοὺς µισηδόνους; Omnia vincit amor et nos | cedamus amori—τρῶγε, ἐροτόκρουστε!. Graf 1996: 121–38. PMG IV 296–466. Mastrocinque 2007.

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also belong to this category since they must have been read during nocturnal ceremonies. They consist of the Mithraic ritual formula nama followed either by the name of an initiate and the designation of a grade in the dative or by praise of the god and the leaders of the community: e.g., nama Gelasio leoni (“nama to Gelasios, who has the rank of lion,” or “who is accepted into the rank of a lion”), ναµα θεῷ Μίθρᾳ· ναµα πατράσι Λιβειανῷ καὶ Θεοδώρῳ· ναµα καὶ Μαρείνῳ πετίτορι· ναµα πᾶσι τοῖς συνδεξίοις παρὰ τῷ θε[ῷ] (“nama to the god Mithras; nama to the patres Livianos and Theodoros; nama also to Marinos, the petitor; nama to all the companions of the god”), ναµα ἐλπίσι Ἀντωνείνῳ [στ]ερεώτῃ ἀγαθῷ συνδεξίῳ, τῷ εὐσεβεῖ (“nama with good hopes to Antoninos, the sterotes, the virtuous companion, the pious”).88 These acclamations accompanied the worshipper’s progress through the various grades of the cult; each successive rise was collectively acknowledged by the whole congregation and fixed in writing on the walls of the temple.89 I will finish this overview of inscriptions that were read during the night by mentioning the Antikythera mechanism which was used, inter alia, for observing the stars,90 and funerary imprecations against potential tomb robbers. These inscriptions on funerary monuments were, naturally, perfectly legible during the daytime, but they were probably meant to be read in the night, when tomb robbers were active. 5

Conclusions

In his novel The Waxen Doll (1911), the Greek novelist Konstantinos Christomanos, better known for his biography of Empress Sissy, describes a scene that takes place in a cemetery. The protagonist is Liolia. She had been hired as a maid in the house of Verginia, a young woman suffering from tuberculosis. She soon began an affair with Verginia’s husband and, after Verginia’s death, married him. Haunted by a sense of guilt, she visits Verginia’s grave during the night (chapter 11). How wild was the impression of the cross, standing so dark in the abandoned place! How the white letters on it were crying out the inscribed text in desperation … Verginia Rota, age: 26, in the twilight of the silent dusk! Verginia Rota—and her name was now Liolia Rota; both of them 88 89 90

Vermaseren and van Essen 1965: 179–240; Cumont and Rostovtzeff 1939: 87 and 120. Gordon 2001. The text in SEG LXI 279bis; recent discussion: Jones 2017.

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had Nikos’ name! The letters were shouting, shouting, but their voice could not be heard; because the letters swallowed their own cry and looked at her with silent, puzzled eyes. As a chronotope, the night evokes or enhances emotions. From primeval times, humans have been engaged in a limited repertoire of nocturnal activities: guarding, recreation, sex, sleep, the joint consumption of food, storytelling, performance, watching the stars and observing the phases of the moon, dreaming, and experiencing supernatural phenomena. Consequently, the night has been firmly associated with a certain set of perceptions. It plays a great part in creating the feeling of togetherness; it is associated with fear and anxiety but also with erotic desire; and as the night commonly offers time for sleep and dreaming, it is associated with death and is regarded as the privileged period for the communication between mortals and gods, the living and the dead. The epigraphy of the night is closely connected with this nocturnal repertoire. It is connected with entertainment, wit, and bodily pleasures. It expresses community and strengthens the coherence of small groups; but it is also connected with conflict and danger, as well as communication between humans and superhuman forces. Finally, the epigraphy of the night displays and arouses emotions much earlier than the public epigraphy of the day does, which only begins to show elements of strong emotionality in the late fourth century BCE.91 The epigraphy of the night has its own history. Significantly different types of texts became popular at different times. Aristocratic homoerotic epigraphy and sympotic wit declined after the fourth century BCE, together with the oldstyle aristocratic symposium. At the same time, the political epigraphy of the night became more common as oligarchic regimes and monarchies spread; the dark epigraphy of magic is more widely diffused from the Hellenistic period on, and made increasing use of an emotional language. The epigraphy of the night is part of the history of the night, which must be the subject of a different study, no less based on inscriptions than the present one. Since I started with the Life of Brian, I shall close the circle with it again. Always look at the bright side of life, but do not neglect the dark side of epigraphy.

91

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Voutiras, E. 1998. ∆ιονυσοφῶντος γάµοι. Marital Life and Magic in Fourth Century Pella. Amsterdam. Voutiras, E. 2014. “Το ποτήρι του Νέστορα: µύθος και πραγµατικότητα.” In P. Valavanis and E. Manakidou (eds.), Μελέτες κεραµικῆς καὶ εἰκονογραφίας πρὸς τιµὴν τοῦ καθηγητῆ Μιχάλη Τιβερίου, 85–93. Thessaloniki. Wachter, R. 2003. “Drinking Inscriptions on Attic Little-Master Cups. A Catalogue (AVI 3).” Kadmos 42: 141–89. Wachter, R. 2010. “The Origin of the Epigrams on ‘Speaking Objects’.” In M. Baumbach, A. Petrovic, and I. Petrovic (eds.), Archaic and Classical Greek Epigram, 250–260. Cambridge. Watkins, C. 1976. “Observations on the ‘Nestor’s Cup’ Inscription.” HSPh 80: 25–40. Watkins, C. 1995. How to Kill a Dragon. Aspects of Indo-European Poetics. New York/ Oxford. Zadorojnyi, A.V. 2011. “Transcripts of Dissent? Political Graffiti and Elite Ideology Under the Principate.” In Baird and Taylor (eds.), 110–33. Zarkadas, A. 2016. “Ἀρκτίνου, Αἰθιοπίς. Μιὰ νέα µαρτυρία σὲ ὄστρακο ἀνάγλυφου σκύφου στὸ Μουσεῖο Παύλου καὶ Ἀλεξάνδρας Κανελλοπούλου.” In M. Giannopoulou and C. Kallini (eds.), Τιµητικὸς Τόµος γιὰ τὴ Στέλλα ∆ρούγου, 342–52. Athens. Zarmakoupi, M. 2017. “The Spatial Environment of Inscriptions and Graffiti in Domestic Spaces: The Case of Delos.” In Benefiel and Keagan (eds.), 50–79.

Chapter 2

War Orphans and Orphans of Democracy in Classical Athens: The Decree of Theozotides and the Prytaneion Decree Reconsidered Sviatoslav Dmitriev In an earlier article, I argued that some basic provisions of Athenian laws against tyranny and subversion predated Solon’s reforms, which, among other things, divided the Athenians into those who held the status of the legitimately born, or γνήσιοι, and those who did not. As a consequence, post-Solonian legal enactments against supporters of tyranny—and against supporters of oligarchy and, more specifically, those who subverted democracy—punished the offender and his legitimate and illegitimate children alike, although the difference in their legal status was publicly and legally acknowledged. Our view of this situation is further complicated by the fact that this punishment took the form of atimia. While atimia evolved over time into what is generally understood to mean “disfranchisement,” its earlier meaning (“outlawry”) survived as a form of punishment for grave political offenses. Hence, illegitimate children could also suffer atimia, even though they had no political rights in the city. This paradox has caused a great deal of confusion in modern scholarship.1 Some sources make no distinction between the status of children: (i) a restored Athenian decree threatened to punish anyone attempting a tyranny in Erythrae and his progeny with death: [κ](αὶ) [οἱ] παῖδε(ς h)οι ἐχς ἐ(κ)είν(ου);2 (ii) Demosthenes’ third speech against Philip mentioned an Athenian decree condemning a certain Arthmios of Zelea, who, probably in the 470s, had brought Persian gold to the Peloponnese as “an outlaw and enemy of the Athenian people and its allies, himself and his family” (ἄτιµος καὶ πολέµιος τοῦ δήµου τοῦ Ἀθηναίων καὶ τῶν συµµάχων αὐτὸς καὶ γένος);3 (iii) the decree of Demophantos referred to the collective oath sworn by all Athenians that any subverter of 1 Dmitriev 2015. All dates are BCE unless otherwise noted. I am indebted to the organizers for their kind invitation to participate in the Congress, and to Professor N. Papazarkadas for comments and suggestions. 2 IG I2 10.32–34 (470–460). D.M. Lewis in IG I3 14 chose neither to accept this restoration nor to offer his own. 3 Dem. 9.42. For the historicity of the atimia of Arthmios, who was a foreigner, see Dmitriev 2015: 38–39.

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democracy would be held as a public enemy and could be killed with impunity and his property confiscated, and that anyone who broke this oath “would suffer destruction, both himself and his family” (ἐξώλη αὐτὸν εἶναι καὶ γένος);4 and (iv) the Athenian law against tyranny, republished in 337/6, stipulated that “if anyone—the Demos or the democracy in Athens overthrown—of the Councilors of the Areopagus goes up into the Areopagus or sits in the Council or deliberates about anything, both he and his progeny shall be ἄτιµοι (ἄτιµος ἔστω καὶ αὐτὸς καὶ γένος τὸ ἐξ ἐκείνου) and his substance shall be confiscated.”5 Other sources, however, do acknowledge the distinction in the status of legitimate and illegitimate children, even though they both receive the same punishment. The decree on Archeptolemos and Antiphon, participants in the oligarchy of 411, condemned the men to capital punishment, confiscation of all property, demolition of their houses, deprivation of the right of burial in Attica, and ἀτιµία extended to their “illegitimate and legitimate descendants.”6 This difference was similarly revealed in an Athenian law stating that those who did not pay rentals for the lands of the goddess or of the gods and the eponymous heroes, would be ἄτιµοι—themselves, their γένος, and their legal heirs—until they made payment. However, this law, too, extended the same punishment to the entire γένος, which implied legitimate and illegitimate relatives, and legal heirs, who could only be legitimate descendants.7 As it happens, the attitude to the people who found themselves on the other side, as opponents to tyranny, oligarchy, and, specifically, subversion of democracy was different. Some texts did not make a distinction concerning the status of the children of such men. In the aforementioned decree of Demophantos, for instance, the Athenians pledged to reward both those who defended democracy and their children, if their fathers died protecting democracy and 4 Andoc. 1.98. The authenticity of the decree of Demophantos has been rejected by Canevaro and Harris 2012: 119–25, who believe that the text adduced as the decree of Demophantos was probably passed in 400/399, and defended by Sommerstein 2013: 74–75; 2014: 49–57, incl. 50: the text of the decree of Demophantos “must have been inserted into the text of Andocides at a later (probably Hellenistic) date. It does not follow automatically, however, that D is not a genuine decree of Demophantus” and 53: defending its traditional dating to 410/9. The authenticity of the decree of Demophantos was not doubted by those who either accepted its traditional dating (Shear 2007: 148–60; 2011: 73, 89–91; 2012: 37 (410/9); Teegarden 2014: 17, 30 (June 410)) or questioned it (Matthaiou 2011: 81 n. 18; Arrington 2015: 73 n. 72 (403/2)). 5 SEG XII 87 = Meritt 1952 no. 5 = IG II3 320 ll.7–21. See also the Athenians’ punishment of Themistocles, his children, and entire family: FGrH 338 (Idomeneus), F 1 (αὐτοῦ καὶ γένους), and Plut. Them. 6.2: τοῦτον εἰς τοὺς ἀτίµους καὶ παῖδας αὐτοῦ καὶ γένος ἐνέγραψαν. 6 [Plut.] X orat., 834a–b: καὶ νόθους καὶ γνησίους. 7 Dem. 43.58: ἀτίµους εἶναι καὶ αὐτοὺς καὶ γένος καὶ κληρονόµους τοὺς τούτων. For kleronomia by anchisteia, that is through a legitimate descent, see n. 28 below.

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left them as orphans: “if anyone shall lose his life in slaying such an one or in attempting to slay him, I will show to him and his children the kindness which was shown to Harmodios and Aristogeiton and to their descendants.”8 While this decree makes no distinction between legitimate and illegitimate children, other ancient references to the benefits enjoyed by the descendants of Harmodios and Aristogeiton reveal that this “kindness” was the right of the eldest, surviving, legitimate relative to enjoy free meals in the Prytaneion (sitesis), and, probably at a later date, the right to front seat at all public performances (proedria).9 Two important epigraphic documents also show that benefits were only extended to legitimate children of the Athenians who died in defense of the Athenian democracy, as will be shown below. 1

The Decree of Theozotides

The distinction between the status of legitimate and illegitimate children whose fathers died fighting against tyranny, or more specifically, for the Athenian democracy, was made in the decree proposed by a certain Theozotides late in the fifth century. For a long time, the decree was known from two pieces of evidence. One was a fragmentary papyrus, dated to the third century, recording what has been identified as the speech composed by Lysias against Theozotides (Lys. 64). The best preserved part of this papyrus, which is also most important for the current investigation, was published and translated by B.P. Grenfell and A.S. Hunt as follows (P.Hibeh 14, fr. (b), col. i, 26–47): π̣ ά̣ν̣των δεινότατον εἰ / [τὸ κάλ]λ̣ ιστον τῶν ἐν τοῖς / [νόµο]ι ̣ς ̣ κήρυγµα Θεοζο/ [τίδ]ης διαβαλλεῖ καὶ ψεῦδος /30 [κα]ταστήσει. ∆ιονυσίοις γὰρ / [ὅτα]ν̣ ὁ κῆρυξ ἀναγορεύηι τοὺς / [ὀρ]φ̣ανοὺς πατρόθεν ὑπειπὼν / [ὅτ̣ι] τῶνδε τῶν νεανίσκων οἱ / πατέρες ἀπέθανον ἐν τῶι πο/35λέµωι µαχόµενοι ὑπὲρ τῆς / πατρίδος ἄνδρες ὄντες ἀγαθοὶ / [καὶ] τούτους ἡ πόλις ἔτρεφε µέ/[χρι] ἥβης, ἐνταῦθα πότερα χωρὶς / περὶ τῶν ποιητῶν και τῶν νό/40[θ]ων ἀνε̣ρε̣ ῖ̣ {ς} λέγων ὅτι τούσδε / διὰ Θεοζοτίδην οὐκ ἔτρεφον / ἢ̣ πάντας ἀ[ναγορε]ύων ὁµοίως / · [11 letters τῶν] ποιητῶ̣ν̣ / καὶ τῶ̣ν̣ [νό]θ̣ω̣ν̣….. [ψεύσε]/45ται ̣ περὶ τῆς τροφῆς ὑ̣π̣ο̣σ̣ι ̣[ωπῶν;] / ταῦτα οὐχ ὕβρις καὶ [µ]εγάλη διαβο/[λ]ή … 8 Andoc. 1.98: ἐὰν δέ τις κτείνων τινὰ τούτων ἀποθάνῃ ἢ ἐπιχειρῶν, εὖ ποιήσω αὐτόν τε καὶ τοὺς παῖδας τοὺς ἐκείνου καθάπερ Ἁρµόδιόν τε καὶ Ἀριστογείτονα καὶ τοὺς ἀπογόνους αὐτῶν. See also n. 4 above. 9 IG I3 131.5–9 (c.440–432?; see also below); Din. 1.101, and [Plut.] X orat. 847e. See, in general, MacDowell 2007: 111–13.

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26 [ὃ δὲ] G&B and C; 29 διαβαλεῖ G&B and C; 32 ὀρφάνους C; 34 πάτερες C; 41 ἔτρεφεν G&B and C; 42 ἤ G&B; 43 [τοὺς ὀρφανούς, τῶν] ποιητῶ̣ν̣ G&B; 44 [καταψεύσε- G&B; ψε[ύ]σε C; 45 ὑποσι[ωπῶν; G&B and C; 47 /[λ]ὴ [ἔσται τῆς πόλεως G&B and C Most monstrous of all is that Theozotides should misrepresent the most splendid proclamation that is enjoined by law and establish a falsehood. At the Dionysiac festival when the herald proclaims the orphans with their fathers’ names, and adds that the fathers of these youths died in war fighting for their country as brave men, and these youths were brought up by the State until manhood, is he then to make a separate announcement concerning the adopted and illegitimate sons, saying that owing to Theozotides these were not brought up, or is he to proclaim them all alike … and speak falsely by passing in silence their bringing up? Would not this be an insult and the height of misrepresentation.10 Aeschines and Isocrates also describe the ceremony in which, after war orphans reached adulthood and stopped receiving free public maintenance, they were clad in panoply at public expense and brought in front of the People.11 Similar practices evidently existed in some other Greek communities. A Thasian decree regulating provisions for public funerals and the commemoration of the war dead mentioned that, after reaching adulthood, male war orphans were invited to the annual festival of Herakles, called up with their fathers’ names, and publicly presented with a panoply worth no less than three mnas, funded at public expense.12

10 11

12

Grenfell and Hunt 1906: 50–51, 54; cf. Gernet and Bizos 1926: 258 fr. VI.2 (with a French translation); Carey 2007: 380 fr. 129. For another English translation of this text, see Harding 1985: 14 no. 8B. Aeschin. 3.154, who gives what looks like the text of this pronouncement: “these young men, whose fathers died in war displaying their valor, were nourished till they came of age by the People, who now, having clad them in the panoply of war, sends them with prayers to go each his own way, and invites them to places of honor at the performance” (τούσδε τοὺς νεανίσκους, ὧν οἱ πατέρες ἐτελεύτησαν ἐν τῷ πολέµῳ ἄνδρες ἀγαθοὶ γενόµενοι, µέχρι µὲν ἥβης ὁ δῆµος ἔτρεφε, νυνὶ δὲ καθοπλίσας τῇδε τῇ πανοπλίᾳ, ἀφίησιν ἀγαθῇ τύχῃ τρέπεσθαι ἐπὶ τὰ ἑαυτῶν, καὶ καλεῖ εἰς προεδρίαν); Isoc. 8.82: καὶ παρεισῆγον τοὺς παῖδας τῶν ἐν τῷ πολέµῳ τετελευτηκότων. See also Aristid. Or. 1.368. LSCG Suppl. no. 64 = SEG XVII 820 ll. 16–21 (c. mid-fourth century). See also Fournier and Hamon 2007: 316.

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The other piece of relevant evidence was a reference by Pollux to Lysias’ attack on “Theosdotides,” which has been understood as meaning Theozotides.13 Then, in August 1970, a fragmentary inscription with a decree adopted on Theozotides’ proposal was found in the Athenian Agora. The editio princeps of the first twelve lines, which constitute the best preserved part of the text, was published by Ronald S. Stroud in the next year, and reprinted in SEG XXVIII 46, as follows:

5

10

ἔδοξεν τῆι βολῆ[ι καὶ τῶι δή]µωι, Ἀντιοχ[ὶ]ς ἐπρυτάνευε […8…]ς ̣ ἐγ̣ ραµµάτευεν, Καλλισθένη[ς ἐπ]εστ[άτε, Θεο]ζοτίδης εἶπεν· ὁπόσοι Ἀθηναίω[ν] ἀ[πέθαν]ον [β]ιαί-̣ ωι θανάτωι ἐν τῆι ὀλιγ[αρχίαι β]ο̣[ηθ]ο͂ντε̣ς τῆι δηµοκρατίαι, τοῖς [παισ]ὶ̣ τότων̣ ε[ὐ]ε̣ργ̣ εσ:ίας ἕν[εκ]α τῶµ πατ[έρων] α[ὐ]τῶν ἐς [τ]ὸ[ν δῆµ]ον τὸν Ἀ̣ θ̣[ην]αίω[ν καὶ ἀνδ]ραγαθ[ί]α[ς,….]σ̣ αι τοῖς π̣ [α]ισὶ α[…6…] τ̣[ότ]ω[ν] ὀ[β]ο̣λ̣ὸν [τῆς] ἡµέρας τ[ροφὴν….7…] δ̣ὲ̣ τοῖς ὀρφανο[ῖς] ἀποδίδω[σι…..10…..] το Πρυτανει ̣[ο Resolved by the Boule and the People, Antiochis held the prytany … was secretary, Kallisthenes presided, Theozotides made the motion. All those Athenians who died by violent death in the oligarchy helping the democracy, to the children of these men for the sake of the benefaction of their fathers towards the Athenian people and (for the sake of their) bravery, to distribute to the children of all these an obol a day as maintenance. And just as to orphans there is rendered by the law from the Prytaneion …14

The publication of the inscription raised two questions—about the date of the proposal and about whether this is the same proposal mentioned in P.Hibeh 14, fr. (b), col. i, 26–47. The newly discovered inscription not only failed to clarify the meaning of Theozotides’ proposal, but, in fact, it made the discussion even more complicated. 13

14

Poll. 8.46: προβολαὶ δ’ ἐγίνοντο τοῦ δήµου ψηφισαµένου καὶ τῶν εὐνουστάτων τῇ πόλει, ὡς Λυσίας ἐν τῷ κατὰ Θεοδοτίδου = Lys. fr. 59: κατὰ Θεοσδοτίδου (Thalheim) = fr. 10 (Todd) = fr. 150 (Carey). On this understanding, see, for example, Gernet and Bizos 1926: 235 n. 3; PAA: 164; Carey 2007: 390 fr. 150. Stroud 1971; with Agora XVI no. 106A. The translation is from Harding 1985: 13 no. 8A.

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The majority opinion has shared Stroud’s view that P.Hibeh 14, fr. (b), col. i, 26–47 and the inscription from the Agora refer to the same proposal, and that this proposal dates to the time shortly after the fall of the Thirty in 403.15 Only Ida Calabi Limentani and Angelos P. Matthaiou believe that P.Hibeh 14, fr. (b), col. i, 26–47 and SEG XXVIII 46 refer to two different proposals by Theozotides. They date the latter to the time after the restoration of democracy in 410, by arguing that: (i) “while this inscription is a decree, Lysias speaks of Theozotides’ law”; (ii) “ἀποθανεῖν βιαίωι θανάτωι is an expression not proper to war, but to violent death at the hands of an assassin”; (iii) “[β]ο[ηθ]ο͂ντες τῆι δηµοκρατίαι finds its appropriate echo in οἱ κατήγοροι τότε µὲν οὐδαµῇ εὖνοι ὄντες ἐφαίνοντο τῷ δήµῳ οὐδὲ ἐβοήθουν, Lysias 20.17, used of the oligarchy of 411 BC, i.e. not a military context”; (iv) “the Athenians regarded the events of 404–3 BC as a full-scale war and not merely a stasis”; and (v) “the Hellenotamiai did not exist after 403 BC,” with reference to this college being mentioned in the later, a more fragmented part of the text of the decree; ll.17–18: ………18……… τὸ]ς Ἑλληνοταµίας το[.]̣α̣[…….13……].16 None of these arguments can be held as valid on its own. The first was refuted by M.H. Hansen, who believed that Theozotides’ psephisma “was proposed and carried before the introduction of the distinction between nomoi and psephismata … the public action brought against the decree must be a γραφὴ παρανόµων of the old type to be used against both permanent and temporary enactments of the ecclesia.” If the distinction between nomoi and psephismata was only established at the very end of the fifth century, this might also serve to undermine Calabi Limentani’s and Matthaiou’s argument that Theozotides’ proposal should date to before 404/3.17 As to (ii), even if Calabi Limentani 15 16

17

Stroud 1971: 297–301; Hansen 1974: 30 no. 5 (“403/2 or 402/1”); 1978: 327; Krentz 1982: 113; Lintott 1982: 176; Harding 1985: 14 n. 2; Slater 1993: 84; Todd 2000: 383; PAA: loc.cit.; Shear 2011: 234–35, 307; Eidinow 2016: 301. Calabi Limentani 1985: 116–28; Matthaiou 2011: 71–81, incl. 80 n. 13. Listed here are the arguments of Calabi Limentani, as summarized in SEG XXXVII 65, whose editors made a reference to 403–2 BC in (iv), while Calabi Limentani was referring to the events of 411–410; cf. her arguments arranged in a different order by Matthaiou 2011: 77–78, and the arguments of Matthaiou as presented by Blok 2015: 95 n. 44, who accepted the new dating but disagreed with the view that Lysias’ speech against Theozotides was referring to a different proposal: 2015: 96 n. 50. Hansen 1978: 327, with 316: examples of the same legal enactments being referred to as either nomos or psephisma, and 329–30: on the introduction of the distinction between nomos and psephisma “in 403/2 or shortly afterwards”; see also Hansen 1991: 171–73. This suggestion had already been made, very perceptively, by Gernet and Bizos 1926: 235 n. 2, who did not know the text of the inscription. Cf. Bleicken 1987: 266–267 (with n. 26), who similarly overturned the dating suggested by Calabi Limentani and Matthaiou while also

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and Matthaiou are right to argue that βιαίωι θανάτωι is not applicable to military casualties, this expression could still be applied to the events surrounding the regime of the Thirty, as referring to premeditated deaths, like those which Athenians suffered at the hands of the oligarchs. For example, Lysias mentioned the violent fashion in which the Thirty dragged the people to death (12.96: συναρπάζοντες βιαίως ἀπέκτειναν). Consequently, the third argument (iii) primarily reflects Calabi Limentani’s and Matthaiou’s personal views that “violent death” and “helping democracy” necessarily designated the people who died in the act of protecting the Athenian democracy. However, the expression βιαίωι θανάτωι was certainly applicable in many contexts.18 Besides, people who died a violent death under the tyranny could be retrospectively presented as giving their lives for democracy, just like many modern day victims of terrorist acts are presented as “heroes” in retrospect.19 Argument (iv) cannot hold on its own, since it relies on personal references by two ancient authors, who were both contemporaries of the events of 404/3, to the regime of the Thirty as a (civil) war.20 Finally, the validity of argument (v) depends on establishing the exact date of when the Hellenotamiai ceased to exist. This certainly happened after, and as a consequence of, Athens’ defeat in the Peloponnesian war. However, it is possible that the Hellenotamiai still existed for some time after the war was over.21 They were probably mentioned in IG I3 380 (404/3), as argued by A.M. Woodward, who was the first to publish this text.22

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20 21 22

questioning the validity of Hansen’s rigid division between psephisma and nomos after 403/2 and arguing that this division was not strict even after that time. This expression could mean both a premeditated death (cf. Xen. Hier. 4.3; Pl. Rep. 566b; Antiph. 1.26) and a violent death; cf. Aeschin. 1.172 (with the eyes knocked out and the tongue cut off); SB 1, 1267: on a woman who died βιαίωι θανάτωι because of a scorpion’s sting (8 CE); and Shear 2011: 230 (with n. 16) and 235 (with n. 37), who rejected Calabi Limentani’s interpretation of this phrase. It is difficult to accept Calabi Limentani’s view (1985: 118–119) that βίαιος θάνατος was not counted as θάνατος καλός (see also next note), because the former was not a natural death (“βίαιος θάνατος è la morte non naturale, cioè contro le leggi di natura”): the death of those who died for their country was certainly beautiful. Calabi Limentani 1985: 122–124 (cf. 126) accepted this possibility. Cf. the interpretation by Matthaiou 2011: 80, “these Athenians who were killed βιαίωι θανάτωι during the oligarchy are praised for εὐεργεσία towards the Athenian demos in spite of the fact that their death did not help the restoration of democracy.” Calabi Limentani 1985: 118, with reference to Pl. Menex. 243e (ὁ οἰκεῖος ἡµῖν πόλεµος); Matthaiou 2011: 77, with reference to Xen. Hell. 2.4.22, which certainly carried a rhetorical flavor. Calabi Limentani 1985: 123–124 (with n. 32) rejected this suggestion by Stroud. Woodward 1963: 144–186, incl. 144–145: the original text, and 151–153: the suggested restoration mentioning the Hellenotamiai. See also AO: 185–186. Whether the college of the Hellenotamiai continued after the fall of Athens (e.g., Woodward 1963: 150; SEG XXI 80)

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In a recent article Josine H. Blok has upheld the dating of Theozotides’ decree by Calabi Limentani and Matthaiou with reference to the διωβελία, an Athenian city fund that provided financial assistance to the Athenians in need. Her arguments were (i) “plausible but not proven dates for the existence of the διωβελία from 410–404,” (ii) the presence of the obol fund (IG I3 377: 408–407 BC) in the “same set of accounts as, although separate from, the διωβελία expenditures,” which makes it “attractive” to connect its “short-lived appearance in our accounts with the fate of the διωβελία not much later,” and (iii) the already quoted above reference in SEG XXVIII 46 to the payment of one obol to the children of the people “who died by violent death in the oligarchy helping the democracy” and a reference to διωβελία in another fragment of the same speech composed by Lysias (Lys. 64) against Theozotides.23 Although theoretically plausible, this reconstruction includes several variables and, hence, it cannot be held as a definitive argument in favor of dating the proposal(s) of Theozotides to 410 or shortly thereafter. Ultimately, although the dating of Theozotides’ proposal(s) is still open to debate (see also Appendix 1), it makes no difference to the conclusions of the present article, which focuses on the meaning of what was decreed. Grenfell and Hunt suggested that Theozotides “proposed to exclude illegitimate and adopted sons of citizens fallen in war from the benefits which the State conferred upon orphans,” and asserted that Lysias’ accusation took the form of a graphe paranomon. In a recent commentary on Lysias’ fragments, Stephen C. Todd advanced the view that “Theozotides’ proposal was designed to extend already existing provisions for war orphans so as to cover also those orphaned in the civil war, but provocatively and explicitly to limit this to the sons of those killed on the democratic side” and that “Lysias’ attack on the proposal for denying the rights of adoptive (sic) and illegitimate children may be an attempt to raise the temperature by focusing on the side issue.”24 According to this point of view, Theozotides’ proposal should have been seen, and rejected, as illegal, since neither Aeschin. 3.154 nor Isocr. 8.82 nor other reference about the public maintenance of the orphans of the war dead, including Pericles’ Funeral Oration as rendered by Thucydides, mentions any distinction between legitimate and illegitimate children. The available evidence shows

23 24

or not (e.g., D.M. Lewis in IG I3: 366; Krentz 1979 = SEG XXIX 19) appears to be largely a matter of one’s personal preference. Blok 2015: 90, 93, and 95, respectively. SEG XXVIII 46 (see n. 14 above). For the reference to διωβελία, see P.Hibeh 14, fr. (d) = Carey 2007: 383 fr. 131. Grenfell and Hunt 1906 1: 49. For the view that this was a graphe paranomon, see also Hansen 1978: 327; Loomis 1995: 230; Todd 2000: 83; Carey 2007: 378; pace Gernet and Bizos 1926: 235. Cf. Blok 2015: 95: “Only orphans of full citizenship were eligible for this support.”

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that all underage children of the war dead were honored in the same fashion, regardless of their legal status.25 2

The Prytaneion Decree

This decree, which is generally dated to sometime between the mid-440s and mid-420s (its exact date is neither attainable nor important for this article),26 concerned honoring the victors in the Olympian, Pythian, Isthmian, and Nemean games. While a debate of long duration has focused on restoring line 7 of this text (see Appendix 2), the most important source of information for the current examination is the phrase hὸς ἂν ἐ͂ι ἐγγυτάτο γένος, which reflected the Athenian law of anchisteia, whose authorship the Greeks ascribed to Solon. This law determined succession not by just kinship proximity but, first and foremost, the legitimate status of the recipient, favoring relatives on the father’s side over those on the mother’s side, and males over females.27 If someone died intestate and without legitimate (γνήσιοι) children, Solon’s law of anchisteia entitled the closest legitimately born male relative to inherit the property (τοῖς ἐγγυτάτω γένους τὰ τοῦ τελευτήσαντος γίγνεσθαι) or to be posthumously adopted into the oikos of the deceased person, thereby prolonging its existence. Legitimate relatives (γνήσιοι) made up only a part of relatives in general (συγγενεῖς). The latter group included bastards (νόθοι), who, although relatives, had no place in ἀγχιστεία.28 The same law applied to hereditary benefits: the eldest or the closest relative was not necessarily the one who had the right to inherit them. This right belonged to the closest legitimate relative (hὸς ἂν ἐ͂ι ἐγγυτάτο γένος), which made restoring line 7 with reference to the eldest surviving relative ([ἀεὶ hο πρεσβύτατος]), as Ostwald suggested and Oliver accepted, unnecessary. However, the same is true for the restoration [hυιο͂ν γνεσίον µὲ ὄντον], which was reluctantly proposed by Schöll, and accepted by Hiller von Gaertringen and 25 26 27 28

For Aeschin. 3.154 and Isoc. 8.82, see n. 11 above. For the state support to the orphans of the war dead, see also Thuc. 2.46.1; Pl. Menex. 248e; Arist. Pol. 1268a (ii.5.4); Diog. Laert. 1.55 (see n. 33 below); Aristid. Or. 1.368; Stroud 1971: 288–290; Loraux 2006: 26–27. For an overview of suggested dates, see Rivolta 2014: 79–91, who supported the date of shortly before 424. Solon’s authorship: Dem. 20.102, 43.51, 78, and 46.14. Preference of males: Dem. 43.51, 78, and 44.12, 62; Isae. 7.20. Succession by anchisteia: Isae. 4.15–18 (4.15: the quote), 7.20, 11.1–3; Dem. 43.3 (ἡ κληρονοµία κατὰ τὴν ἀγχιστείαν), 51, 61, and 44.14–15 and 66, with Dmitriev 2017. Posthumous adoption by anchisteia: Dmitriev 2014. For illegitimate sons with no right of anchisteia, see Ar. Av. 1660–1666; Dem. 43.51; Isae. 6.47.

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Lewis. Ultimately, what line 7 of the Prytaneion decree said is not important for the current examination, since hὸς ἂν ἐ͂ι ἐγγυτάτο γένος in line 6 makes clear that the benefit of the sitesis in the Prytaneion belonged to the closest living legitimate, that is legitimately born, relative (see Appendix 2). The Prytaneion decree, which attests to the right of the closest surviving legitimate relatives of Harmodios and Aristogeiton to enjoy free meals in the Prytaneion, helps us to explain the purpose of the decree of Theozotides, which has received several interpretations. Gernet and Bizos, who used the papyrus but did not know about the inscription, suggested that Theozotides proposed limiting the benefit of free meals to only the legitimate children of the Athenians who died in war for Athens. Shear, who used both the papyrus and the inscription, suggested that Theozotides’ proposal granted the legitimate children of those who had died for democracy the same benefits as those enjoyed by the children of men who had died fighting in war on behalf of Athens.29 And, finally, Calabi Limentani and Matthaiou expressed the opinion that Theozotides made two proposals, on the orphans of war (P.Hibeh 14, fr. (b), col. i, 26–47) and the orphans of tyranny (SEG XXVIII 46); hence, these texts can, and should, be dated to different times.30 The regulation granting the right of sitesis to the closest legitimate relatives of Harmodios and Aristogeiton, respectively, should have been put in place after their death in 514 and, more specifically, after Cleisthenes’ reforms, generally dated to 508/7. In all probability, however, this regulation emerged in connection with the reinterpretation of Harmodios and Aristogeiton as the heroes of Athenian democracy in the fifth century, as we see from the comedies of Aristophanes and a speech attributed to Lysias.31 The earliest documented privilege of sitesis was granted to Cleon, who died fighting Brasidas and the Spartans at Amphipolis in 422, and Iphikrates, one of the leading Athenian politicians and generals of the first half of the fourth century.32 29

30

31 32

Gernet and Bizos 1926: 235 “D’après la loi jusque-là en vigueur, les fils orphelins des citoyens tués à l’ennemi devaient être élevés par la cité: Théozotidès excluait du bénéfice de la loi les fils naturels et les fils adoptifs.” Shear 2011: 235 (“just like the war orphans”), 291 (“Theozotides prescribed that the legitimate sons of the Athenians killed fighting for the democracy be supported by the city in the same fashion as war-orphans”). E.g., Matthaiou 2011: 77–78 n. 9: “my understanding is that Theozotides’ decree referred in Lysias’ speech cannot be identified with the decree inscribed on the stone. The first one refers to the orphans of the men (Athenians) who died in the battlefield (ἐν τῷ πολέµῳ) fighting against a foreign enemy. The latter refers to the orphans of those who died in the time of oligarchy helping or trying to defend the democracy.” Podlecki 1966; Rosivach 1988: 49. Ar. Eccl. 682–683, Eq. 786–787, with Ober 2003: 220. Lys. 2.18–19. Cleon: Ar. Eq. 575, 709, 766, 1404–1405. Iphikrates: Dem. 23.130, 136; Schol. Dem. 21.62.

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However, the policy of nourishing war orphans predated Solon’s reform in the early sixth century. According to Diogenes Laertius, Solon curtailed the honors of athletes and fixed the allowance for an Olympic victor at 500 drachmas, an Isthmian victor at 100 drachmas, and proportionately in all other cases, “because he considered it inappropriate to exalt these men with such honors, which were only for those who had fallen in battle, and whose sons were to be maintained and educated at public expense.”33 Diogenes is not always reliable.34 However, he appears to be correct in this case, since the Athenian policy of nourishing war orphans made no distinction between legitimate and illegitimate children, unlike policies regulating public nourishment for the descendants of Harmodios and Aristogeiton and those who died for the Athenian democracy. This distinction, which Solon codified, evidently did not affect earlier practices, including the maintenance of war orphans. 3

The Orphans of War and the Orphans of Democracy in Classical Athens

It is from this premise that we should evaluate the proposal of Theozotides (SEG XXVIII 46) and Lysias’ alleged criticism of it. Theozotides’ aim was to grant the benefits enjoyed by the closest surviving legitimately born relatives of Harmodios and Aristogeiton to the orphans of the people who died fighting against, or as the victims of, Athenian oligarchs in the late fifth century. Theozotides only proposed to expand the circle of beneficiaries while retaining the same principle that only the closest legitimately born relatives of each man should enjoy the privilege. Conversely, Lysias 64 (P.Hibeh 14, fr. (b), col. i, 26–47) argued that the orphaned children of those who died at the hands

33 34

Diog. Laert. 1.55: ἀπειρόκαλον γὰρ τὸ ἐξαίρειν τὰς τούτων τιµάς, ἀλλὰ µόνων ἐκείνων τῶν ἐν πολέµοις τελευτησάντων, ὧν καὶ τοὺς υἱοὺς δηµοσίᾳ τρέφεσθαι καὶ παιδεύεσθαι (Marc.) = Ruschenbusch 1966: 124 F 144c and F 145 = Martina 1968: nos. 453 and 495. See next note. Bringmann did not include this excerpt in his re-publication of Ruschenbusch’s Solonian fragments (Ruschenbusch 2010). Leão and Rhodes 2015: 193 placed F 144c and F 145 in the part of the collection containing “unusable, doubtful, spurious” fragments, while arguing that “Athens’ epitaphioi logoi were instituted by Solon, but the public funeral and the speech which accompanied it were certainly instituted later, probably in the late sixth or early fifth century.” For the evidence from later times, see Stroud 1971: 288, with reference to what he defined as the earliest mention of this practice in IG I3 6C.38–42 (before 460), with Arist. [Ath. Pol.] 24.3, who only mentions that the allied tribute was used for, among other things, feeding orphans; this statement certainly does not preclude an earlier origin of this practice.

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of the oligarchs in the late fifth century should be treated like war orphans, regardless of their legal status. As part of his argument, Lysias not only intentionally conflated two distinct Athenian regulations regarding orphans of war and tyranny, respectively, which had emerged at vastly different periods of time. He also accused Theozotides of deliberately rewarding only legitimately born orphans of tyranny in contrast to the established policy regarding orphans of war. This was a rhetorical trick, since Theozotides had (displayed) no such intention. His proposal was perfectly legal since it was based on the same principle that had already been applied to the families of Harmodios and Aristogeiton as the first two champions of Athenian democracy. While Theozotides’ proposal to exclude non-γνήσιοι orphans of Athenian victims of oligarchy from the group of the beneficiaries is perfectly understandable, the exclusion of adopted children (poietoi) needs an explanation. Some scholars have simply ignored the reference to them, focusing only on the nothoi.35 Others have interpreted the poietoi as foreigners, which does violence to the meaning of the word.36 Still others have pointed to economic considerations,37 which fail to explain why adopted children were excluded. In a special study, Niall W. Slater, who placed the proposal of Theozotides after the rule of the Thirty, suggested that this step reflected the belief that “adoption had been abused under the Thirty and those not adopted in strict adherence to Solonic law were not entitled to benefits.”38 However, as the rule of the Thirty was short, and the number of the children adopted (by the supporters of democracy, or by enemies of the Thirty) during that period was reasonably small, any abuse could be corrected with the help of a scrutiny. There was no need to disadvantage the entire group of adopted children. Because the oligarchies in 411–410 and in 404–403 were so brief, one would think that Theozotides meant all adopted children, i.e., not only those who were adopted during these short periods. Significantly, the “Solonic law” on adoptions implied that the adoptees were gnesioi, i.e. legitimately born, usually to consanguine or affine relatives 35 36 37

38

Gernet and Bizos 1926: 258 n. 1; Stroud 1971: 299–300; Krentz 1982, 113; Walter 1983: 318; Calabi Limentani 1985: 125–26; Bakewell 1999: 21. den Boer 1979: 55: “Illegitimate children and foreigners, νόθοι and ποιητοί, however, were excluded.” Gernet and Bizos 1926: 234–235 (who had real difficulty explaining the exclusion of the adopted children; see 236: “la paternité adoptive, si pleinement admise qu’elle fût en droit, n’était pas tellement assimilée à l’autre, dans la conscience commune, qu’on ne pût se permettre par une loi nouvelle de les distinguer aussi gravement”); Harding 1985: 14 n. 6. Slater 1993: 84, followed by Eidinow 2016: 301 n. 59, who, however, remained puzzled by this provision.

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of the adopters.39 Any abuse simply meant that non-gnesioi were adopted. Although this situation was possible, it should have been rare, which, again, did not justify depriving all adopted children of benefits. The decision to exclude adopted children from these benefits suggests that they were not children adopted by victims of the oligarchy, but precisely the opposite: these were the victims’ natural children who had been adopted into other families.40 The adopted children had severed their ties with the natal families, and thus had no share in the patrimony, including the benefits and duties, of their natural fathers.41 Since they no longer “counted” as children of their natural fathers, such adopted sons had no right to the benefits allotted to the children of the people who died at the hands of the oligarchs. In what looks like a similar case, Dem. 58.30–32 refers to a certain Charidemos, natural son of Ischomachos, who was adopted by Aischylos. If Charidemos were to be granted the right of (hereditary?) sitesis as the son of Ischomachos—as the speaker’s father had proposed—this would mean that he would be deprived of the property of Aischylos. The commentators have agreed that Charidemos did not receive the privilege of sitesis,42 because his adoption into a different oikos prevented him from getting the benefit which he would otherwise have enjoyed as a natural son of Ischomachos: since Charidemos never rejoined his natal family, he had no right to sitesis. Returning to Theozotides’ proposal, although the nothoi and the poietoi were similarly deprived of the benefits allotted to the orphans of the people who had died during the oligarchy, these children had different statuses, as nothoi and gnesioi, respectively. Both groups lacked the right to enjoy the benefits proposed by Theozotides, but for different reasons.

39 40 41

42

Since adopted children were legitimately born, they cannot be juxtaposed with gnesioi as two separate groups: for this approach, see, for example, Fournier and Hamon 2007: 342. See Ogden 1996: 79 (and n. 204 with bibliography). If an adoptee wished to return to his natal family, he had to leave a gnesios replacement behind; otherwise, the adopter’s property passed to his nearest gnesios relative. This is not the place to argue whether this replacement had to be the adoptee’s natural son or whether he could adopt someone else and leave him as a replacement; on this debate, see, for example, Rubinstein 1993: 17; Cobetto Ghiggia 1999: 240–41; Damet 2012: 155; Huebner 2013: 513–15. For the purpose of this article, it will be enough to note that an underage adoptee could produce neither a natural nor an adopted successor even if he wished to return to his natal family. APF: 6–7 no. 436 (including on Charidemos remaining in the oikos of Aischylos for years after this event); Osborne 1981: 159 n. 18; Rubinstein 1993: 60; MacDowell 2007: 112–13.

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Conclusions

Theozotides’ proposal carried the day because it extended the principle already in use for the closest surviving legitimately born relatives of Harmodios and Aristogeiton, who by that time had been reinterpreted as champions of Athenian democracy, to the children of the people who died at the hands of oligarchs in the late fifth century. Solon had established a distinction between legitimately and illegitimately born Athenians already in the early sixth century. The policy of public support for war orphans predated Solon’s reforms, and therefore was applied to children regardless of whether they were legitimately born. Hence, Lysias’ attempt to apply this rule to the children of those who died for democracy was rejected, while his insinuation that Theozotides intended to apply the principle of legitimacy to war orphans was a mere rhetorical exaggeration. As a point of general interest, Theozotides’ proposal reveals a close connection between the Athenian democracy and kinship, which is usually ignored because of attempts to interpret Athenian demokratia in terms of modern democracy. Appendix 1. Dating the Decree of Theozotides As mentioned above, the exact dating of when Theozotides moved his proposal is both still open to debate and irrelevant to the main argument of this article. Two considerations can be offered, however, in favor of the traditional dating to sometime shortly after the fall of the Thirty. One is that Lysias himself probably gave several speeches during the short period when he had Athenian citizenship after the fall of the Thirty.43 Although many have been skeptical or negative about this possibility,44 it should not be rejected outright: neither Schol. Aeschin. 3.195 (438a, Dilts) nor Schol. Hermog. On Staseis (Walz V: 343 ll. 10–17)—the only two indications that the psephisma to grant politeia to Lysias was overturned as illegal—specify the time period between the grant and the moment when it was revoked. Lysias’ politeia could have lasted long enough to enable him to personally speak before the People against Eratosthenes, Phormisios (see below), and, as it appears, Theozotides. The second consideration that might tip the scale in favor of dating Theozotides’ proposal, and Lysias’ attack on it, to 403 or a little later is that both actions would fit into the debate about the social and political organization of Athens that flared after the fall of the Thirty. In the autumn of 403, Lysias criticized the motion, put forward 43 44

Dem. 45; Dem. 59; Lys. 12; Plut. Lys. 835F–836A, with Bearzot 1997: 34–35. E.g., Carawan 1998: 376–77; Todd 2007: 6 n. 20, and 13–14.

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by a certain Phormisios, to limit the right of politeia only to those who possessed land in the city, which threatened to deprive about five thousand people of their rights, according to Dionysius of Halicarnassus.45 The motion of Phormisios lost, though not necessarily because of Lysias’ criticism. Theozotides’ proposal fits this overall rekindling of public attention to social and political status. This reawakened popular awareness is clearest in what is generally viewed as the reenactment of Pericles’ so-called citizenship law of 451/50 in 403.46

Appendix 2. Restoring the Prytaneion Decree The following restorations of lines 5–9, the most important part of the Prytaneion decree for my purposes, are arranged in chronological order: [Α] F. Hiller von Gaertringen, IG I2 77: ἔπειτα τοῖσι Ἁρµ|[οδίο καὶ τοῖσι Ἀριστογέ]τονος hὸς ἂν ἐ͂ι ἐγγυτάτο γένος | [hυιο͂ν γνεσίον µὲ ὄντον, ἐ͂ν]αι αὐτοῖσι τὲν σίτεσι[ν κ]αὶ ἐ[ς | τὸ λοιπὸν ὑπάρχεν δορειὰ]ν παρὰ Ἀθεναίον κατὰ τὰ [δ]εδοµ̣ |[ένα etc.].47 [Β] J.H. Oliver, SEG XII 17: ἔπειτα τοῖσι Ἁρµ|[οδίο καὶ τοῖσι Ἀριστογέ]τονος, hὸς ἂν ἐ͂ι ἐγγυτάτο γένος | [hυιο͂ν γνεσίον µὲ ὄντον, ἐ͂ν]αι αὐτοῖσι τὲν σίτεσι[ν· κ]αὶ ε[ἴ | τινες hειλέφασιν δορειὰ]ν παρὰ Ἀθεναίον κατὰ τὰ [δ]εδοµ|[ένα etc.]. [C] M. Ostwald, SEG XII 17: ἔπειτα τοῖσι Ἁρµ|[οδίο καὶ τοῖσι Ἀριστογέ]τονος, hὸς ἂν ἐ͂ι ἐγγυτάτο γένος | [ἀεὶ hο πρεσβύτατος, ἐ͂ναι κ]αὶ αὐτοῖσι τὲν σίτεσι[ν κ]αὶ ἐ[κ|γόνοισι hυπάρχεν δορειὰ]ν παρὰ Ἀθεναίον κατὰ τὰ [δ]εδοµ|[ένα …]. [D] J.H. Oliver, SEG XIII 4: ἔπειτα τοῖσι Ἁρµ|[οδίο καὶ τοῖσι Ἀριστογέ]τονος, hὸς ἂν ἐ͂ι ἐγγυτάτο γένος | [ἀεὶ hο πρεσβύτατος, ἐ͂ναι κ]αὶ αὐτοῖσι τὲν σίτεσι[ν κ]αὶ ε[ἴ | τινες hειλέφασιν (vel τις µάντις εἴλεφε) δορειὰ]ν παρὰ Ἀθεναίον κατὰ τὰ [δ]εδοµ|[ένα …]. [E] Thompson 1971: 232: ἔπειτα τοῖσι Ἁρµ|[οδίο καὶ τοῖσι Ἀριστογέ]τονος, hὸς ἂν ἐ͂ι ἐγγυτάτο γένος | [πρὸς ἀνδρο͂ν ἒ γυναικο͂ν, ἐ͂ν]αι αὐτοῖσι τὲν σίτεσι[ν κ]αὶ ε[ἴ | τις ἄλλος εἴλεφε τὲν τιµὲ]ν παρὰ Ἀθεναίον κατὰ τὰ [δ]εδοµ|[ένα …].

45 46 47

Dion. Hal. Lys. 32 and Lys. 34.3 = Dion. Hal. Lys. 33. The proposal, attacked by Lysias, has been interpreted as the desire to (re-)introduce a property census for citizenship: e.g., Lenschau 1941: 541–44; Perlman 1967: 163; Walter 2000: 952. Dem. 43.51; Isae. 6.47; Schol. Aeschin. 1.39 (83, Dilts). For this view, see, e.g., Lipsius 1912: 473–74; Busolt 1926: 940–41, 949; Just 1989: 17; Sealey 1990: 14–15; Todd 1993: 177; Vérilhac and Vial 1998: 56–57; Hartmann 2002: 56; Kamen 2013: 62; Kennedy 2014: 19, 97. Cf. Schöll 1872: 33: ἔπειτα τοῖς (π)αρ[ὰ (Ἁρµ/οδίου καὶ Ἀριστογεί)τονος [῾]ὸς ἂν ᾖ ἐγγ(υτ)άτω γένους, 35: “und auf εἶναι αὐτοῖσι τὴν σίτησιν etwa folgte: κ)α(ὶ) ἐ(ς τὸ λοιπὸν ὑπάρχειν δωρεὰ)ν —oder λαβεῖν τὴν δωρεὰ)ν—παρὰ Ἀθηναίων κατὰ τὰ δεδογµένα, oder Aehnliches.”

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[F] D.M. Lewis, IG I3 131: ἔπειτα τοῑς [h]αρµ̣ |[οδίο καὶ τοῑς Ἀριστογεί]τονος ḥὸ[ς] ἂ̣ν ἐγγύτατα̣ γένος, | [hυιōν γνεσίον µὲ ὄντον, ἐ͂ν]αι αὐτοῑσι τὲν σίτ̣[ε]σι ̣[ν κ]α̣[ὶ] ε[ἴ | τις ἄλλος hείλεφε σίτεσι]ν παρὰ Ἀθεναίον κατὰ τὰ̣ [δ]ε̣δ̣οµ|[ένα].48 The restoration of line 7 depends on one’s understanding of the status of the beneficiaries. The usual perception has been that it was “the one nearest relative of each,” that is, the eldest surviving relative, who enjoyed this privilege.49 Ostwald [C] opted for [ἀεὶ hο πρεσβύτατος] for this reason, and also because he took hὸς ἂν ἐγγυτάτο γένος and [hυιο͂ν γνεσίον µὲ ὄντον] to be redundant,50 while αὐτῷ καὶ τῶν ἐγγόνων ἀεὶ τῷ πρεσβυτάτῳ was an established formula.51 However, he was followed only by Oliver [D]. Both Hiller von Gaertringen [A] and Lewis [F] accepted the opinion of Rudolph Schöll, who considered and correctly rejected [ἀεὶ hο πρεσβύτατος], because the closest relative was not necessarily the one who was legitimately born. Schöll was prudently reluctant to suggest hυιο͂ν γνεσίον µὲ ὄντον since hὸς ἂν ἐ͂ι ἐγγυτάτο γένος meant the closest legitimate son and implied that if the deceased had no legitimate son, the privilege passed to his closest legitimate relative, i.e. not just to the closest or the eldest surviving descendant, as contemplated by Ostwald and Thompson, who misinterpreted both this phrase and Schöll’s argument.52 In the end, just as in the case of the dates suggested for the decree

48 49 50

51

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[B] Also Oliver 1950: 139. [C] Ostwald 1951: 25–26. [D] Oliver 1954: 172–73. For example, MacDowell 2007: 111; see also Ostwald 1951: 34–35 (“the eldest surviving male relative”). Ostwald 1951: 34: “In the first place, even though it is unlikely that young Harmodius was married and had children, we have no evidence that Aristogeiton, too, had no male offspring (sic). Secondly, I am not sure whether in a decree which, after all, is legally binding, the clipped hὸς ἂν ἐ͂ι ἐγγυτάτο γένος would in itself make clear that the eldest surviving male relative is meant,” and 35 (with reference to the phrase εἶναι δὲ αὐτῷ καὶ σίτησιν ἐν πρυτανείῳ καὶ αὐτῷ καὶ ἐκγόνων ἀεὶ τῷ πρεσβυτάτῳ from later decrees): “that a phrase of this kind is much more explicit and unambiguous than hὸς ἂν ἐ͂ι ἐγγυτάτο γένος alone goes without saying, and we should perhaps find a similar phrase in our fifth century decree … those who receive maintenance for the present are … the eldest male descendants of the families of Harmodius and Aristogeiton.” Schöll 1872: 34 (and n. 1). Cf. Ostwald 1951, 34: “The stone supplies hὸς ἂν ἐ͂ι ἐγγυτάτο γένος as a most important clue toward a solution. Schöll read this phrase ὃς ἂν ᾖ ἐγγυτάτω γένους and believed it to be sufficient to designate the eldest surviving relative; for the beginning of line 7 he reluctantly suggested the neat restoration hυιο͂ν γνεσίον µὲ ὄντον which, though he considered it redundant, would supply the motive why a close relative rather than a son should receive public maintenance.” Schöll 1872: 34: “Eine einigermassen einleuchtende Ergänzung von Z. 7 ist mir nicht gelungen. Den “Aeltesten” nach dem “Nächsterwandten” noch ausdrücklich genannt zu sehen wird man kaum erwarten; eher mochte die Forderung der Echtbürtigkeit im Gesetz betont sein.” Cf. Ostwald 1951: 34–35 (see nn. 50 and 51 above). See also Thompson 1971: 230 on ἐγγυτάτω γένους as “nearest in kinship,” 232 with the suggested translation of “Secondly,

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of Theozotides (see Appendix 1), the way this lacuna in the Prytaneion decree is restored makes no difference for my conclusions.

Bibliography Arrington, N.T. 2015. Ashes, Images, and Memories: The Presence of the War Dead in Fifth-Century Athens. Oxford and New York. Bakewell, G. 1999. “Lysias 12 and Lysias 31: metics and Athenian citizenship in the aftermath of the Thirty.” GRBS 40: 5–22. Bearzot, C. 1997. Lisia e la tradizione su Teramene: commento storico alle orazioni XII e XIII del corpus lysiacum. Milan. Bleicken, J. 1987. “Die Einheit der Athenischen Demokratie in klassischer Zeit.” Hermes 115: 257–83. Blok, J.H. 2015. “The diôbelia: on the political economy of an Athenian state fund.” ZPE 193: 87–102. den Boer, W. 1979. Private Morality in Greece and Rome. Leiden. Busolt, G. 1926. Griechische Staatskunde3. Munich. Calabi Limentani, I. 1985. “Vittime dell’oligarchia: a proposito del decreto di Teozotide.” In Studi in onore di Cesare Sanfilippo, vol. 6, 115–28. Milan. Canevaro, M. and E.M. Harris. 2012. “The documents in Andocides’ ‘On the Mysteries.’“ CQ 62: 98–129. Carawan, E. 1998. Rhetoric and the Law of Draco. Oxford. Carey, C. (ed.) 2007. Lysiae Orationes cum fragmentis. Oxford. Cobetto Ghiggia, P. 1999. L’adozione ad Atene in epoca classica. Alessandria. Damet, A. 2012. La septième porte: les conflits familiaux dans l’Athènes classique. Paris. Dmitriev, S. 2014. “Posthumous adoption in classical Athens.” Chiron 44: 67–85. Dmitriev, S. 2015. “Athenian atimia and legislation against tyranny and subversion.” CQ 65: 35–50. Dmitriev, S. 2017. The Birth of the Athenian Community: from Solon to Cleisthenes. London and New York. Eidinow, E. 2016. Envy, Poison, and Death: Women on Trial in Ancient Athens. Oxford and New York. Fournier, J. and P. Hamon. 2007. “Les orphelins de guerre de Thasos: un nouveau fragment de la stèle des Braves (ca 360–350 av. J.-C.)” BCH 131: 309–81. Gernet, L. and M. Bizos (eds.) 1926. Lysias Discours, vol. 2. Paris. Grenfell, B.P. and A.S. Hunt. 1906. The Hibeh Papyri, part 1. London. the descendants of Harmodius and Aristogeiton, whoever is closest, through his father or mother, they too shall have their maintenance etc.,” and Thompson 1979: 329 n. 15.

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Hansen, M.H. 1974. The Sovereignty of the People’s Court in Athens in the Fourth Century B.C. and the Public Action against Unconstitutional Proposals. Odense. Hansen, M.H. 1978. “Nomos and psephisma in fourth-century Athens.” GRBS 19: 315–30. Hansen, M.H. 1991. The Athenian Democracy in the Age of Demosthenes. Oxford. Harding, P. 1985. From the End of the Peloponnesian War to the Battle of Ipsus. Cambridge and New York Hartmann, E. 2002. Heirat, Hetärentum und Konkubinat im klassischen Athen. Frankfurt and New York. Huebner, S.R. 2013. “Adoption and fosterage in the ancient eastern Mediterranean.” In J.E. Grubbs and T.G. Parkin (eds.), Childhood and Education in the Classical World, 510–31. Oxford and New York. Just, R. 1989. Women in Athenian Law and Life. London and New York. Kamen, D. 2013. Status in Classical Athens. Princeton and Oxford. Kennedy, R.F. 2014. Immigrant Women in Athens. Gender, Ethnicity, and Citizenship in the Classical Greece. New York and London. Krentz, P. 1979. “SEG XXI, 80 and the Rule of the Thirty.” Hesperia 48: 54–63. Krentz, P. 1982. The Thirty at Athens. Ithaca. Leão, D.F. and P.J. Rhodes. 2015. The Laws of Solon: A New Edition with Introduction, Translation and Commentary. London and New York. Lenschau, Th. 1941. “Phormisios (1).” In RE 20, 541–544. Munich and Stuttgart. Lintott, A. 1982. Violence, Civil Strife and Revolution in the Classical City: 750–330 B.C. London. Lipsius, J.H. 1912. Das Attische Recht und Rechtsverfahren, vol. 2.2. Leipzig. Loomis, W.T. 1995. “Pay Differentials and Class Warfare in Lysias’ ‘Against Theozotides’: Two Obols or Two Drachmas?” ZPE 107: 230–36. Loraux, N. 2006. The Invention of Athens: the Funeral Oration in the Classical City2. Translated by A. Sheridan. New York and Cambridge, MA. MacDowell, D.M. “Hereditary sitesis in fourth-century Athens.” ZPE 162: 111–13. Martina, A. 1968. Solone: Testimonianze sulla vita e l’opera. Rome. Meritt, B.D. 1952. “Greek Inscriptions.” Hesperia 21: 340–80. Matthaiou, A.P. 2011. Τὰ ἐν τῆι στήληι γεγραµµένα. Six Greek Historical Inscriptions of the Fifth Century B.C. Athens. Ober, J. 2003. “Tyrant Killing as Therapeutic stasis: A Political Debate in Images and texts.” In K.A. Morgan (ed.), Popular Tyranny: Sovereignty and Its Discontents in Ancient Greece, 215–50. Austin. Ogden, D. 1996. Greek Bastardy in the Classical and Hellenistic Periods. Oxford. Oliver, J.H. 1950. The Athenian Expounders of the Sacred and Ancestral Law. Baltimore. Oliver, J.H. 1954. “Jacoby’s Treatment of the Exegetes.” AJP 75: 160–74. Osborne, M.J. 1981. “Entertainment in the Prytaneion at Athens.” ZPE 41: 153–70. Ostwald, M. 1951. “The Prytaneion Decree re-examined.” AJP 72: 24–46. Perlman, S. 1967. “Political Leadership in the Fourth Century B.C.” PP 22: 161–76.

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Podlecki, A.J. 1966 “The Political Significance of the Athenian ‘Tyrannicide’-Cult.” Historia 15: 129–41. Rivolta, C. 2014. “Il decreto del pritaneo e la concessione della sitesis nel V secolo.” Erga-Logoi. Rivista di storia, letteratura, diritto e culture dell’antichità 2: 79–91. Rosivach, V. 1988. “The Tyrant in Athenian Democracy,” QUCC 30: 43–57. Rubinstein, L. 1993. Adoption in IV. Century Athens. Copenhagen. Ruschenbusch, E. 1966. Solonos Nomoi. Die Fragmente des Solonischen Gesetzeswerkes mit einer Text- und Überlieferungsgeschichte. Wiesbaden. Ruschenbusch, E. 2010. Solon: Das Gesetzeswerk-Fragmente: Übersetzung und Kommentar. K. Bringmann (ed.) Stuttgart. Schöll, R. 1872. “Die Speisung im Prytaneion zu Athen.” Hermes 6: 14–54. Sealey, R. 1990. Women and Law in Classical Greece. Chapel Hill. Shear, J.L. 2007. “The Oath of Demophantos and the Politics of Athenian Identity.” In A.H. Sommerstein and J. Fletcher (eds.), Horkos. The Oath in Greek Society, 148–60. Bristol. Shear, J.L. 2011. Polis and Revolution: Responding to Oligarchy in Classical Athens. Cambridge and New York. Shear, J.L. 2012. “Religion and the Polis. The Cult of the Tyrannicides at Athens.” Kernos 25: 27–55. Slater, N.W. 1993. “Theozotides on Adopted Sons (Lysias fr. 6).” Scholia: Studies in Classical Antiquity 2: 81–85. Sommerstein, A.H. 2013. “The Judicial Sphere.” In A.H. Sommerstein and A.J. Bayliss (eds.), Oath and State in Ancient Greece, 57–119. Berlin and Boston. Sommerstein, A.H. 2014. “The Authenticity of The Demophantus Decree.” CQ 64: 49–57. Stroud, R.S. 1971. “Greek inscriptions: Theozotides and the Athenian orphans.” Hesperia 40: 280–301. Teegarden, D.A. 2014. Death to Tyrants! Ancient Greek Democracy and the Struggle against Tyranny. Princeton and Oxford. Thompson, W.E. 1971. “The Prytaneion Decree.” AJP 92: 226–37. Thompson, W.E. 1979. “More on the Prytaneion Decree.” GRBS 20: 325–29. Todd, S.C. 1993. The Shape of Athenian Law. Oxford. Todd, S.C. (trans.) 2000. Lysias. Austin. Todd, S.C. 2007. A Commentary on Lysias, Speeches 1–11. Oxford and New York. Vérilhac, A.-M. and C. Vial. 1998. Le mariage grec, du VIe siècle av. J.-C. à l’époque d’Auguste. Athens and Paris. Walter, K.R. 1983. “Perikles’ Citizenship Law.” CA 2: 314–36. Walter, U. 2000. “Phormisios.” In NP 9, 952. Stuttgart. Woodward, A.M. 1963. “Financial Documents from the Athenian Agora.” Hesperia 32: 144–86.

Chapter 3

The Quarries of Attica Revisited Cristina Carusi The traditional opinion on the ownership and management of quarries in the ancient Greek world, which developed in Classical scholarship in the late 19th and early 20th c., was that in principle, landowners had the right to exploit all resources located both above and below their land. As such, quarries could belong to private citizens as well as to the state. It was assumed that for large public building schemes, cities granted workers free access to public quarries and paid them to quarry the stone. No evidence existed at the time to suggest that quarries were farmed out, as in the case of Attic mines. Even after new epigraphic documents had come to light, scholars were reluctant to abandon the traditional viewpoint. In her famous book on the Epidaurian temple builders, Alison Burford maintained that quarries could be privately and publicly owned. She argued that stone quarrying was only a sporadic activity, mostly linked to occasional large-scale building programs. With very few exceptions, it was not part of regular commercial exploitation and exchange. As such, quarries were not consistently profitable assets, and leases, although attested in the evidence, must have been exceptional.1 In the 1980s Carmine Ampolo discussed the small corpus of epigraphic documents on Attic quarries as a whole for the first time. He argued that since no evidence existed for privately owned quarries, all Attic quarries must have belonged to the state, state subdivisions, or sanctuaries. Furthermore, these corporate entities did not manage their quarries directly, but leased them out to private individuals. This position, although still widely popular today, has not gained unanimous acceptance.2 The aim of this essay is to revisit the epigraphic documents concerning Attic quarries and to see whether, by taking into account old and new arguments, it is possible to acquire new insights into the vexed question of how quarries were owned and managed. 1 For the traditional viewpoint on the ownership of quarries, see. E. Ardaillon, Dar.-Sag. 3.2, s.v. Metalla; Francotte 1901: 177–80; K. Fiehn, RE 3.A2, s.v. Steinbruch: 2277–8; see also Burford 1969: 168–75. 2 Ampolo 1982. Among those who disagree, see in particular Osborne 1985 and Flament 2013; among those in favor, see in particular Langdon 2000. I will refer to their arguments in the course of the essay.

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An early 4th c. decree, found in Piraeus, concerns the cult of Asclepius and mentions income from a quarry (IG II² 47, ll. 25–32):3 ὅπως ἂν τά τε προθύµατα θύηται | ἃ ἐξη̣ γε͂ται Εὐθύ[δ]η[µ]ος ἱερεὺς το͂ Ἀσκληπιο͂ κα|ὶ ἡ ἄλλη θυσία γίγνηται ὑπὲρ το͂ δήµο το͂ Ἀθηναίω|ν, ἐψηφίσθαι τῶι δήµωι· τοὺς ἐπιστάτας τοῦ Ἀσκ|ληπιείο θύεν τὰ προθύµατα ἃ ἐξηγε͂ται [Εὐ]θύδη|µος ἀπὸ τοῦ ἀργυρίο το͂ ἐκ το͂ λιθοτοµε̣[ί]ο̣ […]ο. | [.]ο ἐξαιροµένο, τὸ δὲ ἄλλο ἀργύριον [κα]τα[βά]λλ|[ε]ν ἐς τὴν οἰκοδοµίαν τοῦ ἱερο͂. In order that the preliminary sacrifices that Euthydemos, the priest of Asclepius, prescribes, be celebrated and the rest of the sacrifice be performed on behalf of the Athenian people, let it be resolved by the people that the overseers of Asclepius celebrate the preliminary sacrifices that Euthydemos prescribes with money taken from the quarry […] and spend the rest of the money for the construction of the temple. Since the inscription was found in Piraeus, it is rightly assumed that both the sanctuary and the quarry were located in Piraeus. If we accept Papazarkadas’ restoration at ll. 30–31 ἐκ το͂ λιθοτοµε̣[ί]ο̣ [τοῦ θ|ε]ο͂, which would suggest that the quarry was consecrated to the god, we can assume that the quarry and sanctuary were adjacent to one another, probably on the southwest slope of Mounychia.4 In any case, the decree reveals that the quarry was a public asset under the jurisdiction of the Athenian people and its proceeds were assigned, by decision of the assembly, to a religious purpose, i.e. to financing sacrifices and building works for the cult of Asclepius. Even if the text does not mention how the quarry was managed, it is difficult to see how the quarry could have guaranteed reliable income for Asclepius’ sacrifices and for construction projects other than through a lease.5 Two decrees from the deme of Eleusis, dated to 332/1 and inscribed on the same stele (I.Eleusis 85, with SEG LIX 143), provide us with more information 3 Except when otherwise indicated, all dates are BCE. 4 Cf. Papazarkadas 2011: 42 n. 109. Wilamowitz (IG II² 47 ad loc.) proposed ἐκ το͂ λιθοτοµε̣[ί]ο̣ [το͂ ν]ο[τ | ί]ο “from the south quarry” and the like, and Wilhelm 1942: 124–8 ἀπὸ τοῦ ἀργυρίο το͂ ἐκ το͂ λιθοτοµε̣[ί]ο̣ [ἐκτ]ὸ[ς | τ]ο͂ ἐξαιροµένο “with the money from the quarry except for the exempted money.” For the sanctuary of Asclepius at Zea, see Aleshire 1989: 35–36; for Euthydemos, the priest of Asclepius, see LGPN II, s.v. Εὐθύδηµος (26). See Langdon 2000: 248–9 for the impossibility of identifying this specific quarry among the many existing in Mounychia. 5 It is not clear why Osborne 1985: 104 claims that “sacrifices that are paid from the quarry rent are not regular.”

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on the ownership and exploitation of quarries.6 The second decree on the stele, which predates the first, adopts the proposal of a certain Philokomos (ll. 19–24): ὅπως ἂν τῶι Ἡρακλεῖ τῶι ἐν Ἄκριδι πρόσ|οδος ἦ̲ι ̣ ὡς πλείστη καὶ ἡ θυσία θύηται ὡς καλλίστη, ἐψη|φίσθαι τοῖς δηµόταις· τὰς λιθοτοµίας τὰς Ἐλευσῖνι ἐ|ν Ἄκ̣ ρι ̣δ̣ι ̣, ἐπειδή εἰσιν ἱεραὶ τοῦ Ἡρακλέως τοῦ ἐν Ἄκρι|δ̲ι ̲, µι[σ]θοῦν τὸν δήµαρχον ἐν τῆι ἀγορᾶι τῶν δηµοτῶν τῶ|ι τὸ πλεῖ[σ]τον διδόντι. In order that the income for Heracles in Akris be the highest possible and the sacrifice be celebrated in the best possible way, let it be resolved by the demesmen that the demarch lease the Eleusinian quarries in Akris in the demesmen’s agora to the highest bidder, since they are sacred to Heracles in Akris. The rest of the decree consists of the contractual obligations of the lessee (ll. 24–33), the length of the lease (ll. 33–36), provisions and fines to avoid the diversion of funds to other purposes (ll. 36–43), and publication clause (ll. 43–53). The subsequent decree (the first one on the stele) honors Philokomos with a golden crown (ll. 9–12) on the following grounds (ll. 3–9): ἐπειδ̲ὴ Φιλόκωµος ε̲ἰσηγήσατο τοῖς δηµότα|ις περὶ τῆς Ἄκριδος ἀποδόσθαι τῶι θεῶι τὴν | λιθοτ̲ο̲µ̲ ίαν, ὅπως ἂν ἡ θυσία γίγνηται ὡς καλ|λίστη, [κ]αὶ ἐώνηται παρὰ τῶν δηµοτῶν Μοιροκ|λῆς εἰ̲ς ̲ πέντε ἔτη τριῶν ἡµιµνα[ί]ων τοῦ ἐνια|υτοῦ καὶ ἑκατὸν δραχµὰς ἐπέδωκεν εἰς τὰ πέ|̣ ντε ἔτη̣ · Since Philokomos proposed to the demesmen, concerning the Akris, that the quarry be leased out on behalf of the god (or: that the quarry be restored to the god; see text at n. 12) in order for the sacrifice to be performed in the best possible way, and since Moirokles has bought (it) from the demesmen for five years at three half minas (i.e. 150 dr.) a year and has given 100 dr. for the five years …

6 The stele was found in Eleusis in 1970 and first edited by Coumanoudis and Gofas 1978 (SEG XXVIII 103) and then more recently re-edited by Lupu NGSL: 151–8, no. 2 (SEG LV 2097), and K. Clinton (I.Eleusis 85). I follow the text established by Alipheri 2009 (SEG LIX 143).

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In addition, the decree awarded an olive crown to the same Moirokles who had leased the quarries and presented Philokomos 100 dr. for his crown (ll. 12–17).7 These two decrees show that the quarry located on the Eleusinian Akris (most likely the hill of the Eleusinian acropolis) was consecrated to Heracles, whose sanctuary was probably placed on the same site. Furthermore, the quarry was under the jurisdiction of the local deme, as illustrated by the fact that the demesmen’s assembly made the decision to apply the quarry’s profits to sacrifices for the god.8 The two texts also reveal that the demesmen, following Philokomos’s proposal, decided to maximize the income of the god by farming out the quarry for five years.9 It is possible that this measure was part of a more general Lycurgan policy aimed at reorganizing the financial support of cults and sanctuaries throughout Attica.10 Since Philokomos’ deme honored him for proposing to lease the quarry, Robin Osborne argued that the quarry had not been leased before and that the whole idea of leasing a quarry was completely new to the demesmen. Osborne concludes that this decree does not represent “a random sample of a common phenomenon” and that “the leasing out of quarries was not a normal activity.” These conclusions are in line with his general assumption that stone quarrying was only a sporadic activity and not an ongoing, organized industry.11 However, 7

8

9

10 11

According to Clinton 2008: 95, the 100 dr. that Moirokles gave to Philokomos for the gold crown (ll. 12–14) are the same 100 dr. that he had offered in addition to the five years’ lease (ll. 8–9). By contrast, Alipheri 2009: 187 assumes that Moirokles’ offer included 150 dr. a year for five years for the lease of the quarry, 100 dr. as an additional offer, and another 100 dr. for Philokomos’ crown, for a total of 950 dr. On the sanctuary of Heracles in Akris, see Coumanoudis and Gofas 1978: 296–7; NGSL 157. For the location of the quarry, see Travlos 1949: 144 and n. 18. According to Coumanoudis and Gofas (1978: 293), the vacillation between singular (l. 5) and plural (l. 21) is due to the fact that λιθοτοµία indicates the right of the lessee to exploit the quarry, while λιθοτοµίαι the actual site of extraction (contra Flament 2015: 144–6). Alternatively, one might argue that both terms can be used to indicate a quarry in which multiple “cuts” or “pits” are present throughout the surface of the rock. For Moirokles, see LGPN II s.v. Μοιροκλῆς (1). Interestingly, this Moirokles was the son of Euthydemos, the priest of Asclepios mentioned in IG II² 47. For his family and career, see Ampolo 1981; Aleshire 1991: 244–6; Faraguna 1992: 233–5. Philokomos is otherwise unknown. For the lease terminology employed in this text, see Carusi 2014: 120–4, esp. 121. Faraguna 1992: 336–55, esp. 346 and 350–1; Alipheri 2009: 191. Unfortunately, the identification of our Moirokles with one of Lycurgus’ associates is not definite (see Faraguna 1992: 234). Osborne 1985: 103–5, followed by Flament 2013: 119. In Osborne’s opinion it is no coincidence that Moirokles, the lessee of the Eleusinian quarry, was the son of the Euthymides who was somehow involved with Asclepius’ quarry in Piraeus. However, this connection can be explained by the existing bond between Asclepius and Eleusis and between

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it is equally possible that prior to Philokomos’ proposal the quarry had fallen into disuse, or, as Alipheri has argued, that the phrase ἀποδόσθαι τῶι θεῶι τὴν λιθοτοµίαν (ll. 4–5) should rather be translated “to restore the quarry to the god.”12 In this case, we must assume that the quarry had, for some reason, been removed from the sanctuary’s control until Philokomos restored it to its original owner with his proposal. It is well known that Eleusinian stone, a dark gray to almost black limestone, usually referred to as Ἐλευσινιακὸς λίθος/πέτρα, or λίθοι µέλανες, had been in use well before the 330s. The archaeological and epigraphic evidence reveals that it was largely employed in Eleusis in the 6th and 5th c. for house foundations, sanctuary walls, and the Periclean Telesterion. It was also used on the Athenian acropolis in the 5th c., mostly for the purpose of creating color contrast in the Propylaea and the Erechtheum. Gray Hymettian marble seems to have replaced Eleusinian limestone in Athenian architecture beginning in the late 5th c. Eleusinian stone is mentioned again only in the specifications of an early, aborted, project for the Portico of the Telesterion in the 350s and in the accounts of the Eleusinian epistatai in 329/8, when it was actually used for the construction of a tower.13 Since the cutting and transport of Eleusinian stone for this tower occurred during the period of Moirokles’ lease (ca. 332– 327), it is probably not a coincidence that the Eleusinian quarry was ‘reopened for business’, or restored to Heracles, exactly when construction was ongoing in the sanctuary.14 We cannot be certain that Heracles’ quarry was the only

12 13

14

the sanctuary of Asclepius in Piraeus and in Eleusis (Aleshire 1989: 8; Clinton 1994, esp. 30–31). Alipheri 2009: 187; Flament 2015: 147. Ampolo 1982: 52 n. 14 proposed the same interpretation as a possible alternative. For the archaeological evidence for the use of Eleusinian dark limestone, see Shoe 1949. Epigraphic evidence: Periclean Telesterion (early 440s): I.Eleusis 23, ll. 12–13; Erechtheum accounts (409/8): IG I³ 474, ll. 41–42, 198–199; aborted project for the Portico of the Telesterion (mid-4th c.): I.Eleusis 143, ll. B 70, 76, 82; accounts of the Eleusinian epistatai (329/8): I.Eleusis 177, ll. 53 (tower), 438 (old blocks reused for a fountain). It is probable that only part of the foundation of the Portico was completed in the late 350s, when the specifications preserved in I.Eleusis 143 were issued. This project was likely aborted when, in 352/1, the Delphic oracle forbade the use of revenues from the sacred orgas to finance the construction of the Portico (I.Eleusis 144). Building works were then resumed in the late 340s (I.Eleusis 151–152) and continued into the 330s (I.Eleusis 157 and 159, ll. 64–90), but were interrupted again in the 320s. They were probably resumed only under Demetrius of Phaleron (I.Eleusis 165–166; Vitr. 7 pref.16–17), when the Portico was finally completed (cf. Jeppesen 1958: 103–9, 146–9; Clinton 2008: 135–7, 146–7, 164). Contrary to the standard interpretation (e.g. Alipheri 2009: 192), the lease of the Eleusinian quarry in 332/1 had nothing to do with the construction of the Portico (which was entirely made of marble apart from the foundations).

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one from which Eleusinian stone was extracted, and, in principle, it is possible that Ἐλευσινιακὸς λίθος, or λίθοι µέλανες, was a term used for stone generally coming from the Eleusinian district (as it was for the Aktites stone from Piraeus).15 However, the fact that the building specifications for the aborted Portico project instructed the contractors “to transport stone blocks from the quarry in Eleusis” in the singular (I.Eleusis 143, ll. B 73, 79: λίθους ἀγαγεῖν ἐκ τῆς Ἐλευσῖνι λιθοτοµίας) supports the view that only one extraction site existed in the 350s. The site in question was later reopened in connection with the lease of Heracles’ quarry by the deme in 332/1 and should be linked to the reappearance of Eleusinian stone in the sanctuary’s accounts in 329/8.16 The third document of our small corpus is a passage from a record of the Athenian poletai, dated to ca. 340, which mentions the sale of a house in Mounychia confiscated from a certain Meixidemos of Myrrhinous (Agora XIX P26, ll. 463–498). Meixidemos was registered as a public debtor because he had given surety for three insolvent tax farmers and had failed to cover their debts as required. The poletai recorded his debts in detail (ll. 468–490): ὀφείλο|ντος τῶι δηµοσίωι τῶι Ἀθηναίων ἐγγύην ἣν ἐ|νεγυήσατο Φιλιστίδην: Φιλιστίδου: Αἰξ: µετ|ασχόντας τέλους µετοικίου ἐπὶ Πυθοδότου ἄ|ρχοντος ἕκτην καὶ ἑβδόµην καὶ ὀγδόην καὶ ἐ|νάτην τέτταρας ταύτας ἑκάστην τὴν καταβο|λήν: Η: δραχµὰς καὶ ἑτέραν ἐγγύην ἐν τοῖς ἔργ|οις τὴν πεντεδραχµίαν ἕκτην καὶ ἐβδόµην κ|αὶ ὀγδόην τρεῖς ταύτας ἑκάστην τὴν καταβ[ο]|λήν: Η∆∆Π: δραχµὰς καὶ ἑτέραν ἐγγύην ἣν ἐνεγ|υήσατο Τηλέµαχον: Ἑρµολόχο ἐµ Π: οἰκ: µετασχ|όντα τέλος τῆς πεντεδραχµίας τῆς τῶι Θησε|ῖ τετάρτην καὶ πέµπτην καὶ ἕκτην καὶ ἑβδόµ|ην καὶ ὀγδόην καὶ ἐνάτην καὶ δεκάτην ἑπτ[ὰ τ]|α[ύτ]ας καταβολὰς ἑκάστην τὴν καταβο[λήν: Η: δ|ρα]χµὰς καὶ ἑτέ[ρα]ν ἐνγύην λιθοτοµί[αν ἐµ Πε|ιρ]αεῖ τετάρτην κ[αὶ] πέµπτην δύο ταύ[τας ἑκά]|στην τὴν καταβολὴν: Η∆ΠΙΙΙ: καὶ ἑτέ[ραν ἐγγύ|η]ν ἣν ἐνεγυήσατο Καλλικράτην: Κα[λλικράτο]|ς: Βήση: οἰκ: µετασχόντα τέλους τῆς [δραχµῆς τ]|ῶι Ἀσκληπιῶι 15

16

Travlos (in Shoe 1949: 341 n. 2) observed that the Eleusinian dark stone could not come from the east side of the Eleusinian acropolis, where the rock was quarried in antiquity for the westward extension of the Telesterion. He proposed looking for the source of this stone on a small hill to the north of the sanctuary, near Magoula, admitting, however, that he had not visited the place and could not be sure of his conjecture. In another article, published in the same year (Travlos 1949: 144 n. 18), he indicated the quarry on the north side of the Eleusinian acropolis as the source of the Eleusinian stone. To my knowledge, no one has either confirmed or disproved Travlos’ conjecture. If, as it seems, Heracles’ quarry was the same that supplied Eleusinian stone for the tower in 329/8, the Ergasion and Daos mentioned in connection with the supply of that stone were probably Moirokles’ associates or subordinates (I.Eleusis 177, ll. 53–54).

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ἑβδόµην καὶ ὀγδόην [καὶ ἐνάτη]|ν καὶ δεκάτην τέτταρας ταύτας ἑκά̣[στην τὴν] | καταβολήν: ∆∆∆Π𐅂ΙΙΙΙ: owing to the public treasure of the Athenians a surety which he gave for Philistides, son of Philistides of Aixone who took part in (collecting) the metic tax in the archonship of Pythodoros, (for) the sixth and seventh and eighth and ninth (installments), these four, each installment 100 dr.; and another surety (for) the pentedrachmia on the mines, (for) the sixth and seventh and eighth (installments), these three, each installment 125 dr.; and another surety which he gave for Telemachos, son of Hermolochos, living in Piraeus, who took part in (collecting) the pentedrachmia tax for Theseus, (for) the fourth and fifth and sixth and seventh and eighth and ninth and tenth (installments), these seven, each installment 100 dr.; and another surety (for) the quarry in Piraeus, the fourth and fifth (installments), these two, each installment 115 dr. 3 ob.; and another surety which he gave for Kallikrates, son of Kallikrates, living in Besa, who took part in (collecting) the one-drachma tax for Asclepius, the seventh and eighth and ninth and tenth (installments), these four, each installment 36 dr. 4 ob. According to the traditional interpretation of this section of the inscription, the λιθοτοµία mentioned at ll. 483–484 was a quarry in Piraeus that Telemachos had leased from the city and for which he had not been able to pay two installments of the rent, amounting to 1,155 dr. for the whole year (or to 577 dr. 3 ob., if the contract was for only half the year).17 In this case, we would have evidence for the city leasing another public quarry to a private entrepreneur, even if it is impossible to tell whether the profits from the lease were allocated for a religious purpose, as in the previous examples. However, Christophe Flament has recently questioned the traditional interpretation and noted that all the defaulted payments that Meixidemos was supposed to cover pertained, with the manifest exception of the λιθοτοµία, to the farming out of taxes. In his opinion, the vocabulary used in the inscription suggests that the λιθοτοµίαν ἐµ Πειραεῖ for which Meixidemos had given surety was a τέλος τῆς λιθοτοµίας ἐµ Πειραεῖ, exactly as, in ll. 474–475, the phrase ἐν τοῖς ἔργοις τὴν πεντεδραχµίαν is used as

17

Cf. Meritt 1936: 405–6; Burford 1969: 174–5; Ampolo 1982: 253; Osborne 1985: 103–4 and n. 37.

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an abbreviated form for ἐν τοῖς ἔργοις τέλος τῆς πεντεδραχµίας.18 This assumption makes these two entries consistent with the other taxes mentioned in the inscription, namely the τέλος µετοικίου (l. 471), the τέλος τῆς πεντεδραχµίας τῆς τῶι Θησεῖ (ll. 479–480), and the τέλος τῆς δραχµῆς τῶι Ἀσκληπιῶι (ll. 487– 488). Flament also observes that the total amount of the lease, i.e. 1,155 dr. a year, would be decidedly higher than what Moirokles paid for the rent of the Eleusinian quarry, i.e. 115 dr. a year, especially considering that he was rewarded by his demesmen for his generosity. By contrast, the amount is perfectly in line with the purchase price of the other taxes mentioned in the inscription (1,000 dr. for the metoikion and for the pentedrachmia for Theseus, 1,250 dr. for the pentedrachmia on the mines, and only 366 dr. 4 ob. for the one-drachma tax for Asclepius). Flament concludes that Telemachos had undertaken the collection of a tax that was either an export duty on stone leaving the harbor of Piraeus or a levy of some sort on the extraction of stone in Piraeus.19 Flament does not pursue this line of enquiry further, but concludes that since this passage of the poletai record does not provide evidence for secular, i.e. non-sacred, public quarries in Attica, all our evidence suggests that only gods and sanctuaries owned quarries rather than the city and its subdivisions. So—Flament argues—if gods could own quarries, why not private citizens?20 Apart from the obvious point that divine properties were administered, at both the city and deme level, by secular and democratically appointed officials, the very existence of a long-lasting scholarly debate on whether and to what extent sacred property was a separate category from public property 18 19

20

Burford 1969: 174 n. 1 had already observed that the construction of the phrase should be “the surety for (the -) of the quarry”, and suggested that the implied term was something like “rent” or “lease-fee”. Cf. Flament 2013: 115–7. Flament rejects the traditional interpretation of λιθοτοµίαν in Agora XIX P26, in part because he thinks it would be improper to assimilate the lease of a quarry to a sale as the inscription does at ll. 490–495. Likewise, Flament 2015: 148–149 tries to remove this alleged anomaly from the Eleusinian inscriptions (SEG LIX 143) by translating the verb ἐώνηται at l. 6 as “(Moirokles) has bidden for it” rather than “(Moirokles) has bought it.” It is plausible that the use of the “sale” terminology for the awarding of public contracts developed from the system of adjudicating such contracts through public auctions (see Thür 1984: 506 n. 98). Nevertheless, as I have argued elsewhere (Carusi 2014: 120–4), the overlapping of lease (µίσθωσις) and sale (ὠνή) terminologies to describe the awarding of quarries as well as other public assets to private individuals is not unheard of in Classical Athens. Cf. Flament 2013: 118–9. Although the main topic of his article is the quarries of Attica, Flament seems predominantly concerned with differentiating quarries from mines as far as legal ownership is concerned and emphasizing the peculiar role that mines played among Athenian public resources and finances.

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should discourage us from simply associating divine properties with private property.21 More importantly, the strongest argument against the existence of private quarries remains the complete lack of evidence for them—a situation that the re-interpretation of the poletai record does not change in the least. It is true, as Flament claims, that only public entities customarily inscribed their documents on stone and that our epigraphic evidence is necessarily overbalanced towards the public sphere. It is equally true, however, that no literary sources attest to privately owned quarries, while they do attest to other private realty such as land, gardens, houses, workshops, and so on. Despite the lack of explicit evidence, the peculiar situation emerging from many extraction sites in Attica, especially in Piraeus, might suggest that private quarries existed. Osborne has observed that not all quarries produced stone that, like Pentelic marble, was in constant demand in Attica and abroad.22 Many attested quarries were rather short-term operations tied exclusively to specific, local building projects and were abandoned after they had fulfilled their immediate purpose.23 Langdon’s observations on quarries in Piraeus point in the same direction. Langdon notes that most of the numerous quarries in the Piraeus urban setting, all of which provided Aktites stone, a fine limestone largely exploited for building purposes, were small and shallow pits. They were probably opened to supply small quantities of stone for nearby construction works, and were then filled up and used as building surfaces as urban development advanced.24 At first sight, this kind of exploitation might seem to suggest private ownership, but Langdon has forcefully argued that the city or the deme could claim possession of the bedrock and “require that a quarry 21

22 23

24

Since the bibliography on this topic is too extensive to be quoted here, I refer to the history of scholarship laid out by Papazarkadas 2011: 1–13 (to which I would now add Rousset 2013). To my knowledge, no one has ever argued that sacred property was conceptually and functionally similar to private property; rather, one might argue that property consecrated to gods did not belong to legal persons who could dispose of it as private owners disposed of their own property. For the quarries of Mount Pentelikon, see Korres 1995. Osborne 1985: 93–110. In his opinion, since many quarries were opened for only a single project, quarrying was not a regularly organized industry employing a large, skilled workforce. Instead, it was an occasional, subsidiary activity requiring manual labor more than skill. Supporting evidence comes from the assertion that most quarrying in Attica was done in an inexpert fashion. However, the idea that quarrying was practiced by nonprofessionals is no longer tenable: e.g., Waelkens, De Paepe, and Moens 1990: 56–66, for the indispensable expertise of quarrymen and the technical explanations for apparent peculiarities at some extraction sites. Cf. Langdon 2000, who mentions at least 155 extraction sites, mostly concentrated along the coast and on the hillsides of Akte and Mounychia. For Aktites stone cf. IG II² 1665, ll.23–25; 1668, l. 16; 1669, ll. 14, 16; I.Eleusis 143, ll. B 43, 49; 151, l. 21; 177, ll. 19–20, 192–193.

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lease be issued and fulfilled before the landowner was allowed to build,” regardless of how the land on which the quarry rested was classified.25 Alternatively, I would add that the landowner might have been required to register with the city and pay a tax on the product in order to exploit the quarry, even for his own private building activity. In this light, Flament’s idea about a possible τέλος τῆς λιθοτοµίας ἐµ Πειραεῖ in the poletai record must be pursued further. The meaning of the crucial word, which derives from λίθος “stone” and τέµνειν “to cut,” does not suit the idea of an export duty and cannot be likened to the pentekoste on Pentelic stone attested in the building accounts of the Epidaurian tholos (IG IV² 103, ll. 46, 71– 72), as Flament argues.26 On the other hand, the meaning of the word would be perfectly suitable for a tax on the cutting of stone in Piraeus.27 A lemma of the Suda reveals that mining operators wishing to open a new cutting were required to notify the city and register a twenty-fourth part of the new mine as a tax payable to the people.28 I am inclined to believe that the opening of some small-scale quarries in Piraeus operated along similar lines. Private individuals could take the initiative to open a small quarry in exchange for the payment of a tax, probably in the form of a percentage of the product. Thus, what Telemachos had bought from the city was probably the right to collect such a tax. Short-term quarries for specific building projects could also have resulted from specific aspects of public contracts. The building specifications for the 25 26 27

28

Cf. Langdon 2000: 244–5. The quarries in Piraeus in which Syracusan prisoners were kept (Xen. Hell. 1.2.14: τοῦ Πειραιῶς ἐν λιθοτοµίαις) were certainly public, as Ampolo 1982: 253 had already realized. Cf. Flament 2013: 117. For the pentekoste, see Burford 1969: 174; Prignitz 2014: 111–2 (no. 1, ll. 178, 203–204). In literary sources λιθοτοµία is mostly used to indicate a quarry, but in Galen (Kühn 18.29) it indicates a lithotomy, i.e. a surgical removal of calculi, and Clement of Alexandria (Strom. 1.16.75.8) claimed that Κάδµος ὁ Φοῖνιξ λιθοτοµίαν ἐξεῦρεν, meaning, in my opinion, that “Cadmos the Phoenician invented the quarrying of stone,” more likely than “a quarry.” Suda s.v. Ἀγράφου µετάλλου δίκη· οἱ τὰ ἀργύρεια µέταλλα ἐργαζόµενοι ὅπου βούλοιντο καινοῦ ἔργου ἄρξασθαι, φανερὸν ἐποιοῦντο τοῖς ἐπ’ ἐκείνοις τεταγµένοις ὑπὸ τοῦ δήµου καὶ ἀπεγράφοντο τοῦ τελεῖν ἕνεκα τῷ δήµῳ εἰκοστὴν τετάρτην τοῦ καινοῦ µετάλλου. εἴ τις οὖν ἐδόκει λάθρα ἐργάζεσθαι µέταλλον, τὸν µὴ ἀπογραψάµενον ἐξῆν τῷ βουλοµένῳ γράφεσθαι καὶ ἐλέγχειν (“Prosecution for an unregistered mine. When those who worked the silver mines wanted to begin a new working, they would notify those the people had put in charge of mines and would register a twenty-fourth part of the new mine as a tax payable to the people. So if someone appeared to be working a mine in secret, anyone who wanted could indict and expose him for not having registered” (trans. by A. Mahoney); on this passage see Thür and Faraguna, forthcoming.

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repair and completion works of the Mounychia wall, dated to 337 (IG II³.1 429, ll. 47–58), reveal that the men contracted to quarry stone (οἱ µισθωσάµενοι τὰς τοµὰς τῶν λίθων) were not only required to cut and deliver the stone blocks according to specific instructions, but also to cut the blocks “from wherever each of them contracted” (ὁπόθεν ἂν ἕκαστος µισθώσηται).29 This wording suggests that when the city contracted private individuals to supply stone for certain building projects, it could also issue ‘exploitation permits’ for specific quarries for a certain amount of time. In sum, small-scale operations do not necessarily point to the existence of privately owned quarries. In building accounts and related inscriptions, payments for the supply of stone are mostly recorded as payments to λιθοτόµοι, i.e. “quarrymen.”30 According to the traditional interpretation, these men would be workers whom the city paid to extract stone from public quarries, to which they were granted free access. On the basis of IG II³ 1 429, where the µισθωσάµενοι τὰς τοµὰς τῶν λίθων are also called λιθοτόµοι (l. 105), we should assume that they could be contractors to whom the city assigned specific sites for quarrying stone. But what about those workers who quarried stone for foreign customers, as in the case of a certain Molossos who supplied Pentelic marble to the sanctuary of Asclepius at Epidauros (IG IV² 103, ll. 76–77)?31 In the past, since scholars did not consider leases as a possible explanation, they maintained that these workers also had free access to public quarries. Athens would either have granted this access as an ‘offering’ to foreign sanctuaries or gained its profits exclusively from export duties.32 I think that this position is no longer tenable. One must now assume that those suppliers had leased public quarries and had purchased the right to extract and sell stone, at home and abroad, from the city where the quarries were located. Moirokles’ case shows very clearly that leasing quarries is not incompatible with local and domestic building works. In the past, scholars did not consider the possibility that λιθοτόµοι could be lessees of public quarries, not only because evidence for leases was lacking, but also because most building accounts 29

30 31 32

It is not clear why Flament 2013: 119 quotes this passage in support of his idea that private owners were allowed to exploit their own quarries, since the µισθωσάµενοι are clearly private contractors who bought the right to supply stone from a specific extraction site from the city. It is not clear if a similar provision is also implied in I.Eleusis 141, ll. 8–9. By contrast, Agora XIX L13, ll. 3–4 refers not to the extraction of stone but to the use of stone blocks from a dismantled building or left over from previous works (see Marginesu 2012; Carusi 2014: 126). Cf. IG I³ 436–450, ll. 22, 270, 304, 331, 356; 462–466, ll. 84–86, 150, 152; IG II³.1 429, l. 105; I.Eleusis 165, ll. 4, 19–20. Now Prignitz 2014, no. 2, ll. 207–208. Francotte 1901: 179–80; Burford 1969: 174.

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mention payments to λιθοτόµοι or for λίθων τοµή rather than a price (τιµή) for the stone itself. According to the traditional interpretation, these payments included only the ‘cost of labor’ for the quarrying, since the stone was public property. However, this is a false problem. Stone does not exist in the abstract without quarrying and Ampolo has already shown that the price of stone was included in the cost of quarrying. A passage of the Eleusinian accounts (I.Eleusis 177, ll. 48–50) states that the unit price (τιµὴ τοῦ λίθου) of 304 blocks of conglomerate stone was 1 dr. per block and then reports that those stone blocks were quarried (ἔτεµεν) by five men at a total cost of 304 dr. This is exactly equivalent to the price of 304 stone blocks, thus showing that there is no difference between the cost of quarrying and the cost of the stone itself. Along these lines, in the few cases in which the price (τιµή) of stone is mentioned instead of the extraction (τοµή), we do not have to assume that the city was paying the owners of private quarries for the stone itself. In fact, the example above shows that the two entries were interchangeable and there is no need to postulate the existence of private quarries to explain the use of τιµή in place of τοµή.33 Once we have established that payments to λιθοτόµοι or for λίθων τοµή are not meant to cover only the ‘cost of labor’, we must accept the possibility that the suppliers of stone attested in building accounts and related inscriptions could, like Moirokles, be lessees of public quarries.34 The leasing of quarries need not be as sporadic a phenomenon as it is sometimes thought. To recapitulate, it seems to me that our evidence, as scarce as it is, is still coherent in pointing to the public ownership of quarries, and will remain so until new documents come to light to disprove it. As far as the form of management is concerned, our sources reveal a range of different alternatives, such as leasing extraction sites, contracting with individuals to supply stone for building projects while issuing permits for exploiting specific quarries, and perhaps also registering with the city and paying a tax for opening new extraction sites. These scenarios are not mutually exclusive. Thus, we must assume that some quarries were exploited continuously, while others may have been one-off operations, or used intermittently when there was need of them. These varying approaches certainly stemmed from the fluctuating demand for stone. However, even if the demand for stone was not constant, we need not conclude that the extraction of stone was a sporadic activity that took place 33 34

τοµή: cf. I.Eleusis 23, ll. 8, 12; 143, passim; 177, ll. 17, 22; IG II² 1669, l. 11; IG II³.1 429, ll. 47–48; τιµή: I.Eleusis 177, ll. 49, 53, 192–194, 237. There is no reason to ‘normalize’ τιµή in τ⟨ο⟩µή at I.Eleusis 177, l. 53, as Clinton does. This is most likely the case of the quarriers on Mount Pentelikon from whom the epistatai of the Eleusinian sanctuary picked up the column drums for the Portico of the Telesterion (cf. I.Eleusis 159, ll. 64, 67, 71, 74, 76, 77, 83).

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outside of regular commercial exploitation and exchange. On the contrary, a fresh look at our sources indicates that leased quarries were not necessarily uncommon phenomena. Furthermore, the sizeable sum that Telemachos owed the city, combined with frequent references to contracts for the supply of stone in building accounts and related inscriptions,35 implies that quarrying was far from being a negligible sector of the local economy. Bibliography Aleshire, S.B. 1989. The Athenian Asklepieion. The People, Their Dedications, and The Inventories. Amsterdam. Aleshire, S.B. 1991. Asklepios at Athens: Epigraphic and Prosopographic Essays on the Athenian Healing Cults. Amsterdam. Alipheri, S. 2009. “The Eleusinian Decrees REG 91 (1978) 289–306 reconsidered.” In A.A. Themos and N. Papazarkadas, (edd.), ΑΤΤΙΚΑ ΕΠΙΓΡΑΦΙΚΑ: Μελέτες πρὸς τιµὴν τοῦ Christian Habicht, 183–92. Athens. Ampolo, C. 1981. “Tra finanza e politica: gli affari del signor Moirokles.” RFIC 109: 187–204. Ampolo, C. 1982. “Le cave di pietra dell’Attica: problemi giuridici ed economici.” Opus 1: 251–60. Burford, A. 1969. The Greek Temple Builders at Epidauros: A Social and Economic Study of Building in the Asklepian Sanctuary, during the Fourth and Early Third Centuries B.C. Liverpool. Carusi, C. 2014. “The Lease of the Piraeus Theatre and the Lease Terminology in Classical Athens.” ZPE 188: 111–35. Clinton, K. 1994. “The Epidauria and the Arrival of Asclepius in Athens.” In R. Hägg, (ed.), Ancient Greek Cult Practice from the Epigraphic Evidence: Proceedins of the Second International Seminar on Ancient Greek Cult, organized by the Swedish Institute at Athens, 22–24 November 1991, 17–34. Stockholm. Clinton, K. 2008. Eleusis: The Inscriptions on Stone: Documents of the Sanctuary of the Two Goddesses and Public Documents of the Deme, 2: Commentary. Athens. Coumanoudis, S.N., and D.C. Gofas. 1978. “Deux décrets inédits d’Éleusis.” REG 91: 289–306. Faraguna, M. 1992. Atene nell’età di Alessandro: Problemi politici, economici, finanziari. Rome. 35

Cf. IG II³.1 429, ll. 47–48; I.Eleusis 143, ll. A 8, 31, 45, 61, 77, 94, B 1, 15, 21, 37, 43, 70, 76; I.Eleusis 177, ll. 8–9, 17–18, 21–22, 49–50, 53–54, 192–194, 236–237; I.Délos 104–4, ll. 8–10, 27–32; I.Oropos 290, ll. 55–57.

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Flament, Chr. 2013. “Les carrières de pierre de l’Attique au IVe s. av. n. è. Régimes de propriété, modalités de cession et taxation.” ZPE 185: 111–21. Flament, Chr. 2015. “Les modalités de cession des carriers d’Héraklès en-Akris à Éleusis (SEG XXVIII.103).” ZPE 193: 141–150. Francotte, H. 1901. L’industrie dans la Grèce ancienne, 2. Bruxelles. Korres, M. 1995. From Pentelicon to the Parthenon: The Ancient Quarries and the Story of a Half-Worked Column Capital of the First Marble Parthenon. Athens. Jeppesen, K. 1958. Paradeigmata: Three Mid-Fourth Century Main Works of Hellenic Architecture Reconsidered. Aarhus. Langdon, M.K. 2000. “The Quarries of Piraeus.” AD 55: 235–50. Marginesu, G. 2012. “ΧΡΗΣΘΑΙ ΛΙΘΟΙΣ ΚΑΙ ΓΗΙ in un decreto del demo del Pireo (SEG 33.143.1–7).” ZPE 180: 153–57. Meritt, B.D. 1936. “Greek Inscriptions.” Hesperia 5: 355–430. Osborne, R. 1985. Demos: the Discovery of Classical Attika. Cambridge. Papazarkadas, N. 2011. Sacred and Public Land in Ancient Athens. Oxford. Prignitz, S. 2014. Bauurkunden und Bauprogramm von Epidauros (400–350): Asklepiostempel, Tholos, Kultbild, Brunnenhaus. Munich. Rousset, D. 2013. “Sacred Property and Public Property in the Greek City.” JHS 133: 113–33. Shoe, L.T. 1949. “Dark Stone in Greek Architecture.” In Commemorative Studies in honor of Theodor Leslie Shear (Hesperia Suppl. 8), 341–52. Princeton. Thür, G. “Bemerkungen zum altgriechischen Werkvertrag (Die Buvergabeordnung aus Tegea IG. V/2, 6A).” In Studi Biscardi 5, 471–514. Milano. Thür, G. and M. Faraguna. Forthcoming. “Silver from Laureion: Mining and Minting.” In B. Woytek, (ed.), Infrastructure and Distribution in Ancient Economies: The Flow of Money, Goods, and Services. Vienna. Travlos, J. 1949. “The Topography of Eleusis.” Hesperia 18: 138–47. Waelkens, M., P. De Paepe, and L. Moens. 1990. “The Quarrying Techniques of the Greek World.” In Marble: Art Historical and Scientific Perspectives on Ancient Sculpture, 47–66. Malibu. Wilhelm, A. 1942. Attische Urkunden, 5. Vienna.

Chapter 4

Writing on the Wall: The Epigraphy of Fortification and the Attic Deme of Rhamnous Noah Kaye When F. Maier published the first volume of his two-volume Griechische Mauerbauinschriften in 1959, a corpus and analysis of inscriptions related to wall building and repair, he cast his study as a contribution to both architectural history and to the local histories of numerous Greek city-states, the vicissitudes of their fortunes, and their administration. Though he framed his primary task as classifying a diverse set of documents, Maier anticipated that his work would have broader significance. For the polis, the wall also functioned as a symbol, an edifice no less replete with meaning than a temple. Read alongside other sources, the Mauerbauinschriften could reflect seismic shifts in the technology of warfare or in the distribution of wealth.1 This essay is a meditation on the Mauerbauinschriften a half-century on. It takes up the challenge of gleaning social history from inscriptions pertaining to the process of building, maintaining, and guarding walls. Construction and maintenance of walls, it is argued, reflected and even produced social structures and political order. The built-in segmentation tended to express various forms of commensurability in the polis and in communities beyond or beneath its ken. Walls that in effect communicated with the countryside marked stark lines between public space and private. As a case study, these insights are applied to an epigraphical puzzle from the walls of the Attic fortress of Rhamnous. We can begin considering the social meaning(s) of walls by evaluating Aristotle’s insistence on them in Pol. 1330b–1331a:2

1 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften: vol. 2, 115. 2 Cf. Pl. Leg. 778d–e. On the normativity of Aristotle’s view, see Hansen and Nielsen 2004: 135–37. The importance of walls for polis identity was one finding of the Copenhagen Polis Centre. See further Camp 2000, who employs many of Maier’s Mauerbauinschriften to call attention to the role and significance of walls in the history of the polis. For Hellenistic fortifications, see also Chaniotis (2005: 26) on walls as an expression of the connection between civic freedom and military effort, of the interest of the Hellenistic city in controlling the countryside, and of social hierarchies.

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… if the city is to survive and not to suffer disaster or insult (hubris), the securest fortification of walls must be deemed to be the most warlike, particularly in view of the inventions that have now been made in the direction of precision with missiles and artillery for sieges. Loeb translation by H. Rackham

In the midst of a revolution in ballistics, Aristotle sees the wall as the guarantor of the city’s dignity and indeed of its very existence. The same chilling idea is found in the maxim of Epicurus (Sent. Vat. 31), “When it comes to death, all men live in a city without walls.” Life, but also liberty was at stake. An epidosis (contribution-list) for a wall erected on Chios around 201 BCE names donors as, “Those who wish the fatherland to remain eternally free and autonomous.”3 In fact, the wall was of such importance to the identity of the political community that the two blended together. For example, Erythrai, freed from Persian rule in 334, traded the fortified acropolis of the old regime for the circuit wall of the new. The circuit was made of pale limestone laced with courses of red trachyte. The color red (erythros) seems to echo the city’s name.4 The identification of citizens with the wall reaches a climax in the treatise of Philo of Byzantium, who goes so far as to urge cities to build towers that encase the tombs of honored men and common soldiers alike (Bel. 1.86). If security and identity were Aristotle’s primary concerns, his wall also elicits a certain attention to order (kosmos). Here, the concept of kosmos as order is martial, aesthetic, social, and political. The following syllogism makes a happy coincidence of architectural and sociopolitical order. The act of defending the wall gives society its proper shape; its structure is nested inside the wall: And since the multitude of citizens must be distributed in separate messes (syssitia), and the city walls must be divided up by guard-posts and towers in suitable places, it is clear that these facts themselves call for some of the messes to be organized at these guard-posts. Aristotle, Pol. 1331a; Loeb translation by H. Rackham

Crucially, for Aristotle, the wall is divisible and so ready to receive the segments of society. Generally, the ancient perception of a system of fortifications was one of segments: towers, guard-posts, various kinds of gates, and curtains.5 3 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften: vol. 1, 195–97 no. 52, ll. 1–2. 4 McNicoll and Milner 1997: 66. 5 Note the segmentation of the wall in Poll. Onom. 9.35: “Certain parts of the city are the wall and the parts of the wall, which I have described in the Stratiôtika; and the gates and the

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Responsibilities for the constituent elements of the wall were also divided. This made the wall a means of expressing commensurability. In other words, for a plurality of groups and interests, it provided a common standard of measurement and a degree of coherence. The notion that sociopolitical groups corresponded to segments of walls was a very powerful idea. It is a mental model that Aeschylus artfully inverts in Seven Against Thebes by arraying one of the constituent elements of the enemy’s army at each of the city’s seven gates. Simply because the scale of wall building dwarfed most other public works projects, segmentation was necessary. Pre-existing social or political units often provided an obvious solution to the problem of organizing the labor. Grand armies such as the Peloponnesian host at Plataea broke off into work gangs organized by city in order to complete a circumvallation (Thuc. 2.78.1). From Athens, a large number of inscriptions record contracting arrangements for the reconstruction of the Long Walls and the walls of Piraeus under Conon (395/4–392/1 BCE), who took charge of contracting out the bulk of the work.6 Xenophon (Hell. 4.8.10) describes Conon’s own gang building a large part of the wall, while the Athenians, the Boeotians, and “other willing cities” built other parts.7 For their part, the Athenians designated commissions of wall-builders (teichopoioi) organized by civic tribe. Each tribe managed work on a particular segment of the wall.8 Demosthenes (18.113) boasts of serving as teichopoios and paying out-of-pocket. In the case of Dionysius I of Syracuse and the plateau of the Epipolae, the process of wall building itself recast society in higher relief. Preparing for war with Carthage in 401 BCE, Dionysius hastily built an enormous circuit wall by gathering a great mass of humanity (ochlos) from around Syracuse, dividing them into work gangs, and apportioning one segment of the wall to each gang. Within the gangs, he imposed a hierarchy consisting of a master builder placed before a mason, who was in turn placed before a common laborer. Remarkably, Dionysius disrupted the hierarchy of his own creation by stooping to toil alongside the lowliest among them, only to dramatically reinforce it with his gifts. As an inducement to speedy work, he offered to each man the posterns and the gate-guards who stand guard at these, as do the wall-guards at the walls …” “τὰ δὲ τῆς πόλεως µέρη τεῖχος καὶ τὰ τείχους µέρη, ἃ τοῖς στρατιωτικοῖς ἐνέγραψα, καί που πύλαι καὶ πυλίδες καὶ οἱ ἐφεστηκότες τούτοις πυλωροί, ὡς οἱ ἐν τοῖς τείχεσι τειχοφύλακες·”. 6 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften: vol. 1, 21–36 nos. 1–9. 7 On the participation of the Boeotians, see Maier, Mauerbauinschriften: vol. 1, 22–3 no. 2 = IG II2 1657. 8 The expansion of the tribal system to twelve under Macedonian occupation may not have succeeded in altering the tradition of wall building in ten tribal groups. Note the δέκα µέρη of 307/6 (Maier, Mauerbauinschriften: vol. 1, 48–57 no. 11 l. 7, with 57).

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gift deemed appropriate to his station. The result was not only the completion in a mind-boggling twenty days of the ca. 9 km. circuit, but the articulation of social order. By paying attention to wall building and its attendant activities and discourses, we can track major changes in the shape of Greek society. The egalitarian orientation of the Classical polis is evident in the Athenian habit of dividing up the work by tribe. Naturally, the strenuous work reinforced bonds among tribesmen and further entrenched the Cleisthenic system. More surprising is how the wall could be used to defend against the internal enemies of democracy. Aeneas Tacticus (3.11) relates a story from Argos, where at a time of peak social tension, night watches were organized by tribe: each tribe was assigned a station along the city wall. The trick compelled would-be oligarchs to cooperate with their peers and stymied their conspiracy. Aeneas Tacticus presents a fascinating mix of strategy and social engineering. Though the length of the night varies, he cautions, night watches must be distributed fairly and equally (Aen. Tact. 3.22).9 Returning to Athens, it is worth observing how the Athenians eventually met the challenge of integrating a sizable population of metics into communal wall building. Metics gained access to honors and a form of commensurability, if not equality, as they took charge of “the part apportioned to them” (τὸ µέρος τὸ ἐπιβάλλον αὐτοῖς).10 J. Ober rates fortifications as one of the key elements in the “robust Hellenistic equilibrium” which ensured that more cities were democratic than ever before.11 Yet in the Hellenistic documents, the egalitarian tribes seem to fade away, and three new actors come to the fore: neighborhoods, associations, and ever more dominant philanthropists. The neighborhood (amphodon), which is defined in relation to streets, sanctuaries, and features on fortifications, becomes an increasingly important touchstone for identity and a tool of administration.12 Now, segments of the wall become mustering points for different neighborhoods. In Smyrna, for example, these districts seem to have 9 10 11

12

Ὃν δ᾽ ἂν τρόπον ἴσως καὶ κοινῶς µακροτέρων ἢ βραχυτέρων νυκτῶν γιγνοµένων καὶ πᾶσιν αἱ φυλακαὶ γίγνοιντο… “A plan by which the watches may be apportioned fairly and equally to all the sentinels, according as the nights become longer or shorter …”. Maier, Mauerbauinschriften: vol. 1, 69–72 no. 13, l. 36. In Boeotian Oropos, metics even purchased proxeny rights with wall-contribution loans of one talent or more (Maier, Mauerbauinschriften: vol. 1, 121–22 no. 26). Ober 2015: 309–28, esp. 325–26: “Democracy is not caused by fortifications or federalism, but according to the logic of the game … either fortifications or federalism provide necessary conditions for stable democracy …” Cf. Aristot. Pol. 1330b on fortifications fit for democracy, oligarchy, and monarchy. Hennig 2000; Chaniotis 2005: 23; Kosmin 2014: 202–8; Saba 2008, esp. 82–85; see also I.Stratonikeia 1004.

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been defined by towers named for divinities.13 The symbolic expression of neighborhood solidarity took on a religious dimension. In Carian Stratonikeia, an amphodon was responsible for guarding a portion of wall along which it rallied under a neighborhood banner (episêmon) depicting the Seleucid elephant, surely an imperial resonance.14 However, the usefulness of the neighborhood as much as the tribe was curtailed whenever new walls cut through the city center and fragmented it. This began to happen as cities restructured defenses. Many lacked the manpower to maintain the enormous early Hellenistic circuits. They therefore reduced the enceinte with cross walls that often related to the acropolis. This manner of building a wall was known as diateichismos.15 The process of securing the land for such a wall gives us a revealing snapshot of the stakeholders, and thus a transect view of society. For instance, in Troezen of ca. 146 BCE, a major project of refortification was undertaken. The contribution list for the diateichismos sheds light on a panoply of private associations, 41 in total. Each of these associations owned a piece of land along the proposed path of the new wall. Some were local groups, some cultic, and a certain number were made up of non-citizens, like the Arkadian patriōtai, who had evidently acquired property rights in Troezen.16 We find a similar array in a list from Ioulis on Keos, counting off citizens and metics, tribes, and “other associations” (koineia).17 Advances in artillery led to escalating costs associated with taller and/or thicker towers. Hard numbers are not easy to come by, but the kind of massive towers we first encounter on the Mounychia of Piraeus in 337/6 seem to have been particularly expensive additions to defenses.18 That they were often additions to modernize and improve older systems of fortifications is evident both archaeologically and in the inscriptions that record the act and praise donors. The fortunate city could rely on wealthy individuals to underwrite construction. Significantly, it was a wealthy Olynthian metic who shouldered the cost

13 14 15 16 17 18

I.Smyrna 613; Cf. Varinlioğlu 1994 (= SEG XLIV 917); Aen. Tact. 3.1. Şahin 2008: 66 no. 31. On the great circuits of the Successors, see McNicoll and Milner 1997: 75–105; and on diateichismos as a reduction of the enceinte, 215–16. Maier, Mauerbauinschriften: vol. 1, 140–44 no. 32; Jameson et al. 1994: 565–66. Maier, Mauerbauinschriften: vol. 1, 160–61 no. 38, ll. 16–17. For figures, see Maier, Mauerbauinschriften: vol. 2, 66–68. Interestingly, a 20–25 m. curtain cost 890 dr. in Teos in 200; a late Classical or early Hellenistic tower in Cyzicus required 9200 dr., while one in Thasos (first century) cost 7000 dr., implying consistently high prices. On financial constraints on Hellenistic tower builders, see Lawrence 1979: 385–86; cf. McNicoll and Milner 1997: 9–11.

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of a tower in Thasos, while King Nikokles crowned the city of Paphos with one.19 In the troubled Pontic city of Olbia ca. 200 BCE, a traditional wall-building commission failed to execute its mission. Contractors walked off the job, leaving gaps in the wall’s curtains and towers unfinished. An extraordinary document describes the famous Protogenes of Olbia, who single-handedly saved his city from extinction.20 In many ways, Protogenes breaks the mold for wall builders. He donates many distinct features of the wall, enumerated in the inscription as separate gifts. In fact, he is the only private citizen on record to fund an entire city’s fortification project by himself. More importantly, while Olbia possessed a public institution for wall building (teichodomia), Protogenes accomplished the feat without taking up the office. One can compare again Demosthenes, who as teichopoios applied his own money to the task, or Aristagoras in nearby Istros, who bankrolled a large project, but accepted the official title. In Olbia, the outcome of the wall-building project preserved the city, but it also signaled the depth of a crisis at once financial and institutional.21 When we arrive at the Wall of Triarius, built with Roman support on Delos in 69 BCE to gird the island against a second Mithridatic sack, we would seem to be even further away from Greek civic traditions of wall building. Two inscriptions set up by two different work gangs dedicated both a curtain and a tower to Triarius, an honor even Protogenes lacked.22 Yet it is a telling indication of how much sociopolitical structures continued to inform wall building that a contingent of Milesian sailors took charge of the curtain, while sailors from Smyrna built the tower. As the inscriptions reveal, both groups of sailors belonged to the same ship, the “Athena.” However, when it came to fortifications, the bonds of the city mattered—not of the boat. Walls contributed not only to defense, but also to the spatial definition of the community, even as it changed. They marked a boundary, though not, it seems, the boundary between insiders and outsiders—certainly not the border of any city that claimed wider territory and craved communication with its hinterland. The notion of the wall as a static and impermeable barrier against enemies is in fact absent from Greek thought.23 As Aristotle remarks (Pol. 1331a), a walled city is ideal because it can be both open and closed according 19 20 21 22 23

Maier, Mauerbauinschriften: vol. 1, 201–2 no. 55; 207 no. 58; see also the tower of the Armenian satrap from Aranda (255 no. 79). Maier, Mauerbauinschriften: vol. 1, 264–68 no. 82. Istros: Maier, Mauerbauinschriften: vol. 1, 257–60 no. 80, l. 9. On financial and institutional crisis at Olbia, see Müller 2011. Maier, Mauerbauinschriften: vol. 1, 167–68 nos. 41–2. See also C. Tuan: http://lespierresqui parlent.free.fr/Delos-32.html (accessed 6.25.16). Hülden 2009: 75.

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to its choosing. On the other hand, inscriptions suggest that one way in which walls marked an inflexible boundary was by marking off public space. Clearly, the stones themselves were communal resources; what often needed clarification were the limits of private properties that encroached upon walls. For example, at the join between a tower and a curtain on the acropolis of Nisyros, a demonstrative, monumental inscription with letters of upwards of .12 m reads: δαµόσιον τὸ χωρίον πέντε πόδες ἀπὸ τοῦ τείχε[ος] (“The space within five feet [ca. 1.5 m] of the wall is public!”).24 One can imagine that many similar texts in paint have perished. Indeed, much effort, deliberation, and policing went into establishing the buffer zone (parastasis/echthesis) around a wall or tower. Space was needed for the circulation of soldiery and material, as well as to ensure the wall’s integrity. Paradigmatically, Philo of Byzantium (Bel. 1.10) recommends a much larger outer buffer than the one called for in Nisyros, nearly 28 m wide. The extent of Philo’s perimeter reflects the growing importance of outer defenses like ditches against advanced siege engines, as Hellenistic fortification systems projected forth to become less passive.25 The buffer had many different uses and often served as a ring road. A road of 4.5 to 6 m is amply attested for Hellenistic Athens, squeezed between the curtain of the wall and the outer defense of the proteichisma.26 In Piraeus of Hippodamos, two boundary stones marked a buffer zone of public land, set between a road and the harbor, quite possibly, between that road and a wall that guarded the city’s shipsheds at Zea.27 Commonsensical vigilance and military preparedness has always kept the approaches to security walls clear. What is less obvious is that for ancient Greeks this was vigilance over a rather exceptional category of public property. Certain categories of public property were more fungible. Other kinds of land were sold off when the city was in a financial pinch.28 The land around walls, by contrast, remained categorically reserved from private use, a good reminder of the priority of public interest. Such is the lesson of a land-lease inscription from Ephesus, which records terms for tenants on the public land that the city had purchased in anticipation of building its Lysimachean walls, ca. 290 BCE.29 Evidently, the estate acquired was large enough to accommodate the new fortifications and 24 25 26 27 28 29

Maier, Mauerbauinschriften: vol. 1, 179 no. 47. For “active” Hellenistic walls, see McNicoll and Milner 1997: 214. On Athens’ ring road, see Theocharaki 2011: 124 fig. 31, 144, 146. For evidence from Rhodes and Selinous cf. Lawrence 1979, 76. IG I2 892 = SEG X 380; IG I3 1109–10; Gill 2006: 9. Migeotte 2014: 344–46. Maier, Mauerbauinschriften: vol. 1, 238–39 no. 71.

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also farmers. The document outlines exceptions to the tenants’ land-use rights, such as the right of the city to quarry anywhere on the cultivable land. Internal and external buffer zones were removed from cultivation altogether. Tellingly, plans for a future addition to the circuit, connecting the hills of Astyages and Hermaios, underscored the city’s prerogative to expropriate land for another wall and for another set of buffers. These areas became vacant zones, in which the only non-military activity allowed was public grazing. A long inscription from Skotoussa in Thessaly returns time and again to the issue, as it describes the terrain proposed for at least 48 towers and five main gates. Along level stretches of wall, it seems that the external buffer closely followed the boundaries of private land holdings opposite the wall’s course.30 The epigraphy of fortification can delimit the public sphere very precisely. Can walls speak? Maier concluded that the habit of inscribing texts about wall building into the walls themselves (“die reine Bauinschrift”) was unknown in Greece before the fourth century and rare in Hellenistic times. He counted a mere eight examples.31 Yet insights drawn from Maier’s corpus and analysis stand to elucidate many more texts from the surfaces of walls. As a case study, the walls of the Attic fortress of Rhamnous merit closer inspection.32 Rhamnous is separated from Athens by Mount Pentele and overlooks the Gulf of Euboea and nearby Oropos. Of great strategic importance as early as the Persian Wars, Rhamnous was a border fort and citadel, which always housed a mixed civilian and garrison population: in times of war and piratical raids, it was a refuge for the people of the surrounding countryside. After the Lycurgan reforms, ephebic border guards haunted its acropolis and its famous shrine of Nemesis. The Hellenistic “general appointed over the coast (στρατηγὸς χειροτονηθεὶς ἐπὶ τὴν χώραν τὴν παραλίαν)” was based in Rhamnous and in Sounion, at least when these strongholds were in Athenian hands. Set on a precipice overlooking the sea, the deme center of Rhamnous was heavily fortified. A circuit wall of 800 m, with ten towers, surrounds an inner citadel, barracks, public spaces and monuments. The circuit wall as we know it was first erected in the late Classical period. In this initial phase, curtains of pseudo-isodomic masonry surrounded the massive South Gate, then the main entrance. In Hellenistic times, the more modest East Gate, facing the sea, displaced the South Gate as the primary point of access. Its adjacent curtains, by contrast, exhibit many different masonry styles. These walls must have been rebuilt time and again in a minimum of six different phases of construction. 30 31 32

SEG XLIII 310, with Missailidou-Despotidou 1993: 213. Maier, Mauerbauinschriften: vol. 2, 29. On the fortress of Rhamnous, see Pouilloux 1954; Petrakos 1999.

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Figure 4.1 Location of the inscriptions on East Wall of Fortress of Rhamnous Map by author; Google Earth and DigitalGlobe © 2016

This heterogeneity reflects the many distinct phases of construction and repair that followed the transformation of the East Gate into the primary entrance of the fortress. According to Petrakos, this shift occurred after ca. 248 BCE, when the Athenians regained control.33 A large number of inscriptions grace the younger, eastern façade of the fortress. In particular, dedications seem to cluster around the East Gate. Clearly, this was prime real estate for displaying a message.34 It had become the main gate of a fortress noted for its ties to the countryside and seaborne networks. It was no doubt on account of the visual prominence of the place that the Athenians chose to deposit here an honorific decree for the Rhamnousian Archandros.35 Similarly, a stratêgos, a leading figure in the fortress, chose to have a carved panel dedicated to Demeter and Kore inserted into the wall above an inscription.36 Moving north from the East Gate along the eastern façade, one finds three inscriptions that mention names alone (Fig. 4.1).37 Like the masonry, they are of varying formal characteristics, and indeed the paleography differs. 33 34 35 36 37

Petrakos 1999: vol. 1, 61. Cf. Doulphis 2013–2014. Ibid., 65 fig. 22. I.Rhamnous 140. I.Rhamnous 145. In refraining from using the term “graffiti” here and in the following analysis, I follow the lead of Taylor 2011.

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Νικ(- - -)

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Φανοκλῆς

Figure 4.2 I.Rhamnous 194 Photo by author

Ἀπολλωνίδης Ἀθηναῖος

Figure 4.3 I.Rhamnous 193 Photo by author

The first, inscribed at eye level (LH .01–.03 m), appears just to the south of the East Gate (I.Rhamnous 194; Fig. 4.2). It seems to be two names, in the nominative. It is in a very poor state of preservation. A second inscription is located at eye level 15 m north from the South Gate to the far end of the adjacent curtain by Tower F (I.Rhamnous 193; Fig. 4.3). The letters are smaller (LH .006–.01 m). The inscription seems to record a name and an ethnic. The alpha bears the broken bar, and the sigma is lunate. Finally, 48 m north of the East Gate and ca. 33 m from the name of Apollonidēs (LH .03 m), on a steep rise in the curtain built to connect Tower F to the pre-existent Tower G, a name appears in the genitive (I.Rhamnous 195; Fig. 4.4). It is rather higher up, though still visible from the ground below, in part because the surface was carefully prepared. It is the most formal of the three. The sigma is four-barred. In his publication of these three texts, Petrakos relates them to the ways that the Macedonian garrison changed how the area around the East Gate was used after ca. 248 BCE. In his view, the Macedonian occupation shifted the focus of the fortress to the sea, and this area, above the harbor, became the site of the daily market for food, which was messy, unregulated, and catered

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Νίκ̣ ωνο̣ς

Figure 4.4 I.Rhamnous 195 Photo by author

to mercenaries. On this reconstruction, Nikōn was a shopkeeper who claimed the space (topos) before the wall for his stall. Apollonidēs and Phanoklēs were two of the more literate mercenaries who patrolled the area, the former to be identified as a citizen of the obscure Athens of the Pontos. However, in the final publication, Petrakos did not present archaeological evidence for the suggestion that a market existed outside the East Gate. The only architecture noted were the workshops, ca. 20 m northeast and downhill of the gate, which Petrakos conjectures were for outfitting ships. An alternative reconstruction of the evidence would relate all three texts to the charged process of building and maintaining fortifications. Each inscription could relate to the feature with which it is associated: the East Gate (Phanoklēs and Nik-), Tower F (Apollonidēs), and the curtain (Nikōn). At different times, according to the masonry and paleography, these men claimed responsibility for construction, repair, or even maintenance duties, such as what Maier calls the “war on moisture,” a necessary consequence of building the kind of mud brick superstructure documented at Rhamnous.38 To suggest a parallel, we can consider a dedication from Piraeus of 172/1 BCE, a simple list of names under a heading, which was probably built into the structure itself.39 Other inscriptions of this nature are surprisingly informal, even ephemeral, and so in many cases have likely escaped detection. Maier presents a fine example in two short, Hellenistic inscriptions on the Tower of Smovolon on Tenos that name Lysitheos son of Aristolochos. One is simply the name without a verb, while the other reads:

38 39

Mud brick: Petrakos 1999: vol. 1, 51. Fight against moisture (antipladê): Maier, Mauerbauinschriften: vol. 1, 214–15 no. 61. Maier, Mauerbauinschriften: vol. 1, 82–4 no. 17.

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Λυσίθε[ος] Ἀριστολόχου κατεσκεύα(σεν) As Maier describes them, the letters appear cursorily inscribed. Indeed, they are no more formal than those of the names from Rhamnous.40 In fact, to suggest that “of Nikōn” actually means “Nikōn’s (work on the wall)” is to return to an intuition of J. Pouilloux, who in systematically describing these walls for the first time, spotted the letters and remarked upon the irregularity of the masonry. Pouilloux could not read the name but recognized it as a claim of personal responsibility for the repair of the surrounding wall.41 Furthermore, Petrakos’ appeal to the epigraphical genre of so-called topos inscriptions runs up against difficulties, not least of which is the absence of the term from the text at hand. Certainly, the habit of claiming space by inscribing the word τόπος, often followed by a genitive, is well attested.42 However, more often, these inscriptions seem to promulgate an urban plan, staking out space for a group, or zoning an activity, such as the “place for the dyers” at Laodicea-on-the-Lycus, or the place of “those who love Artemis” in the sacred agora of Magnesia-on-the-Maeander.43 They also appear on graves, in gymnasia, and especially in theaters, where they mark seating sections for dignitaries and tribes.44 Finally, the strategic topography of the Rhamnous fortress speaks against taking Nikōn as a shopkeeper who managed to appropriate for his own use a militarily sensitive strip of land, particularly because attacks from the sea aimed at this wall.45

40 41 42 43 44

45

Maier, Mauerbauinschriften: vol. 1, 164–66 nos. 39 and 40 with fig. 55. The letters of no. 39 are termed “flüchtig.” Pouilloux 1954: 29 with n. 4, noting also a cistern and summarizing, “De toute façon croirait volontiers à une réfection du rempart en cette région.” SEG XLI 186 labels I.Rhamnous 195 “Topos Inscription?”. See Bernand 1993 for an exhaustive study of the term τόπος in the epigraphy of Egypt, esp. p. 108 n. 61 for commercial space. Grave: e.g., Agora XVII 133. Laodicea: Şimşek 2007: 123. Magnesia: SEG LVII 1126. Gymnasium: e.g., Petrocheilos 2010, nos. 177–194 (Andros). Theater seats: e.g., SEG LX 1313 (Assos); cf. seating for priestesses in the Theater of Dionysus in Roman Athens, see Mantas 1999: 187–88. Visibility here was crucial for security. Note the lamp’s niche in Tower F (Petrakos 1999: vol. 1, 67 fig. 25). Cf. two inscriptions from the wall of the main gate of the fortress of Teichos Dymaiôn in Achaia, Soura 2017: 67–8, nos. 7–8, esp. No. 7 (letter forms of the 4th or 3rd century BCE). It reads Λέων̣ο̣ς,̣ “Of Leôn.” The editor interprets the text as a claim of property, displayed next to several shrines attested by other inscriptions on the main gate of an active fortress. It seems unlikely that a private citizen was able to claim property in such an area, but perhaps one tried.

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It might even be possible to use these short texts to enhance our understanding of garrison politics. Rather than seeing him as a foreign mercenary, we must take Apollonidēs at his word. He is an Athenian (Ἀπολλωνίδης Ἀθηναῖος), and he evidently found the point salient. What motivated an Athenian to invoke his citizenship on the walls of an Attic fort? Being an Athenian citizen was worth advertising in such a prominent location once the Athenians recaptured the fortress from the Macedonians.46 Rhamnous was now composed of both citizen-soldiers and foreign members of the garrison (paroikoi), who served under Athenian officers. His citizenship took on significance as the garrison’s multiple sociopolitical units bargained over the obligations of the wall. Just as it had for Aeneas Tacticus in his polis, the ideal of equality before the wall rears its head again. This is clear from an honorific decree voted by the paroikoi of Rhamnous for the general Theotimos (187–183 BCE). Theotimos provided security, but also engineered solidarity, attending to fortifications with citizen labor, while also treating equitably with these non-citizens. He saw to it that each of the non-citizens worked “equally” (τὸ ἴσον, i.e., in fair measure to citizen contributions) to fortify and so preserve the garrison. In a community where tensions could flare, the wall structured reconciliation.47 From Plato to the Pax Romana, the wall was a live issue in Greek society. In the first instance, this essay has aimed to call attention to the heuristic value of inscriptions on or about walls and wall building. Rather than shift the focus from the plane of technology to the plane of discourse and the role of walls as metaphors, the goal has been to highlight the way that activity around the wall contributed to the articulation or reinforcement of sociopolitical structures. The segmentation of the wall into a series of elements that were ultimately united corresponded to the plethora of groups striving for commensurability inside a polis or phrourion (fortress). The revolution in ballistics only increased the pressure to build and maintain, bringing new groups to the fore. In this way the epigraphy of fortification tracks much broader changes in the composition of society. It also helps clarify that the wall was not the community’s 46

47

The recovery of the fortress is traditionally dated to 229/8. See Habicht 1997: 179. Doulphis 2013–2014 challenges that view, arguing for ca. 257/6. He points to the increased visibility of Athenian citizens in the epigraphy of Rhamnous after 252/1. Apollonidēs the Athenian fits well in this context. I.Rhamnous 43 = Maier, Mauerbauinschriften: vol. 1, 118–19 no. 25 bis, ll. 12–14: ὅπως ἂν τὸ ἴσον ἕκαστος λειτουργῶν συνδιασώιζει τὸ φρούριον τῶι δήµωι; with 120: “[Theotimos] sichert, dass die Paroikoi in gleichen Mass wie die Bürger zum Dienst herangezogen werden.” On paroikoi and relations between these two parts of the population, see Oliver 2007: 186–88, emphasizing cooperation. Cf. conflict in 83/82 over worship of Phrygian goddess Agdistis (Pouilloux 1954: 139–40, no. 24).

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border, but its preeminent boundary between public and private space. On this basis, it was suggested that texts on different segments of the east wall at Attic Rhamnous represent claims for a share in garrison society. Rhamnous provides a hint of the tenuous state of our knowledge and the depth of information available. Far more exists, either battered to the limits of legibility, as on the handsome walls of Herakleia-under-Latmos, or waiting to be deciphered, like the scaffolding signatures of Ostia.48 We just need to look. Bibliography Bernand, E. 1993. “Τόπος dans les inscriptions grecques d’Égypte.” ZPE 98: 103–10. Booms, D. 2007. “Scaffolding Signatures: Putlog Holes and the Identification of Individual Builders in Two Ostian Baths.” JRA 20: 273–83. Camp, J. McK. 2000. “Walls and the Polis.” In P. Flensted-Jensen, T.H. Nielsen, and L. Rubinstein (eds.), Polis & Politics: Studies in Ancient Greek History. Presented to Mogens Herman Hansen on his Sixtieth Birthday, August 20, 2000, 41–57. Copenhagen. Chaniotis, A. 2005. War in the Hellenistic World: a Social and Cultural History. Oxford. Doulphis, G. 2013–2014. “Το τέλος του µακεδονικού ελέγχου στον Ραµνούντα.” Tekmeria 12: 155–78. Gill, D. 2006. “Hippodamus and the Piraeus.” Historia 55: 1–15. Habicht, C. 1997. Athens from Alexander to Antony. Cambridge, Mass. Hansen, M.H., and T.H. Nielsen. 2004. An Inventory of Archaic and Classical Poleis. Oxford. Hennig, D. 2000. “Strassen und Stadtviertel in der griechischen Polis.” Chiron 30: 585–615. Hülden, O. 2009. “‘Wo Männer sind, ist sicherere Wehr’—Die Griechen und ihre Mauren.” In A. Nunn (ed.), Mauern als Grenzen, 71–91. Mainz. Jameson, M.H., C.N. Runnels, T.H. Van Andel, and M.H. Munn. 1994. A Greek Countryside: The Southern Argolid from Prehistory to the Present Day. Stanford. Kosmin, P.J. 2014. The Land of the Elephant Kings: Space, Territory, and Ideology in the Seleucid Empire. Cambidge, Mass. Krischen, F. 1912. Die Befestigungen von Herakleia am Latmos. Berlin. Lawrence, A.W. 1979. Greek Aims in Fortification. Oxford. Mantas, K. 1999. “Public and Private.” POLIS. Revista de Ideas y Formas Políticas de la Antigüedad Clásica 12: 181–228.

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Herakleia: Krischen 1912: 53. Ostia: Booms 2007. See also, e.g., Schulz 2000 on the walls of Neandreia.

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McNicoll, A., and N.P. Milner. 1997. Hellenistic Fortifications from the Aegean to the Euphrates. Oxford. Migeotte, L. 2014. Les finances des cités grecques: aux périodes classique et hellénistique. Paris. Missailidou-Despotidou, V. 1993. “A Hellenistic Inscription from Skotoussa (Thessaly) and the Fortifications of the City.” BSA 88: 187–217. Ober, J. 2015. The Rise and Fall of Classical Greece. Princeton. Oliver, G.J. 2007. War, Food, and Politics in Early Hellenistic Athens. Oxford. Petrakos, V.C. 1999. Ὁ δῆµος τοῦ Ραµνοῦντος: σύνοψη τῶν ἀνασκαφῶν καὶ τῶν ἐρευνῶν (1813– 1998). 2 vols. Athens. Petrocheilos, N. 2010. Συµβολὲς στὴν ἱστορία καὶ προσοπωγραφία τῆς ἀρχαίας Ἄνδρου: ἐπιγραφικὲς καὶ φιλολογικὲς µαρτυρίες. Andros. Pouilloux, J. 1954. La forteresse de Rhamnonte (étude de topographie et d’histoire). Paris Saba, S. 2008. “Ἄµφοδα in Hellenistic Times: Urban Planning and Philological Interpretation.” AC 77: 79–90. Şahin, M.C. 2008. “Recent Excavations at Stratonikeia and New Inscriptions from Stratonikeia and its Territory.” EA 41: 53–81. Schulz, A. 2000. Die Stadtmauern von Neandreia in der Troas. Bonn. Şimşek, C. 2007. Laodikeia: Laodikeia ad Lycum. Istanbul. Soura, K. 2017. “Θέοι και άνθρωποι στο Τείχος ∆υµαίων: επιγραφές ιστορικών χρόνων σε µια προϊστορική οχύρωση.” Grammateion 6: 55–79. Taylor, C. 2011. “Graffiti and the Epigraphic Habit: Creating Communities and Writing Alternate Histories in Classical Attica.” In J. Baird and C. Taylor (eds.), Ancient Graffiti in Context, 90–109. New York. Theocharaki, A.M. 2011. “The Ancient Circuit Wall of Athens: Its Changing Course and the Phases of Construction.” Hesperia 80: 71–156. Varinlioğlu, E. 1994. “La fortification hellénistique de Stratonicée, archéologie et épigraphie.” RÉA 96: 189–91.

Chapter 5

Anomalous Grants of isopoliteia and Diplomatic Discourse in Hellenistic Greek Inscriptions Randall Souza 1

Introduction1

Nearly twenty years ago John Ma championed an approach to ancient diplomatic documents based on the work of the ‘Cambridge School’ with more recent historical texts. He described his conviction that the language of euergetism is clearly a well-defined, stable, institutionalized, language, but also that we must study this language in its world, where it performs several functions, as discourse: language as a representation or a mediation of power, in conditions that influence and are influenced by this language … This approach entails taking the discourse of euergetism seriously.2 What Ma said about the language of euergetism holds true for diplomatic language in general. Diplomacy often works to hide or elide power differences, and to put unequal partners on an equal footing, at the very least in their capacity to negotiate at all.3 Therefore, careful attention to language can yield insight into power differentials and show tensions at work in interactions that may otherwise seem totally amicable. In this short essay I adopt Ma’s concern for the specific language of decrees—what he terms “individual applications of linguistic competence”—in examining negotiations over grants of isopoliteia.4 By highlighting the responsive, discursive nature of communication between cities in the Hellenistic period, I will seek to expose some of the cracks in the façade. 1 At the outset I must thank ASGLE and the tireless conference organizers Emily Mackil, Carlos Noreña, and Nikolaos Papazarkadas for their efforts, as well as Erich Gruen for his expert guidance of the panel in which I presented these ideas. I would also like to thank Angelos Chaniotis for his considered reservations about the argument of this paper. All dates are BCE and all translations are my own. 2 Ma 1999: 193. 3 The locus classicus for this function of diplomacy is the Melian Dialogue (Thuc. 5.84–116). 4 Ma 1999: 193 n. 33.

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Isopoliteia was a privilege one city could offer by decree to an individual or to the collective citizen body of another city, which gave the recipient(s) the possibility of moving to the granting city and taking up citizenship.5 Sometimes, but not always, the terms isopoliteia or politeia were used, and sometimes, but not always, the logistics of accepting the offer were spelled out. Some documents (i.e. decrees or treaties) are thought to have recognized an already-existing relationship, while others are thought to have created a new relationship.6 We rarely know whether or to what degree this potential citizenship was ever activated, and indeed the circumstances and results of nearly every attestation of this type of grant remain unclear.7 What is clear, however, is that whether activated or not, isopoliteia represented a very strong relationship between communities and carried significance well beyond the practical advantages of having a second city to which one might move.8 This brief study is restricted to isopoliteia agreements formed expressly between two cities, although grants made to individuals and grants of constituent citizenship rights such as property ownership and marriage privileges are of great interest as well.9 One of the most fundamental prerogatives of a citizen community like the polis was to decide who could be a member and who could not. At the same time, poleis generally exercised jurisdiction over their own citizen communities, but not those of others.10 That is, at least in theory, a polis should be competent 5 6 7 8

9 10

See the fundamental Gawantka 1975, with Saba 2011a. Saba 2011a; 2012. On the logistics of Hellenistic citizenship grants see Savalli 1985; the fullest corpus of Classical and Hellenistic citizenship grants by a Greek polis remains that of Athens, for which see Osborne 1981–1983. Saba 2012: 179–180: “to be isopolites meant to have a privileged position and standing in another community, which is different from having, for example, fiscal privileges. A concession such as isopolity would bring together two communities by establishing a tie that persisted through ages not because of immediately tangible advantages, but because a deeper relation had been put in place.” Chaniotis 1996: 103–4 has demonstrated that in Hellenistic Crete even those recipients of isopoliteia who did not activate citizenship in the second city could claim a number of tangible social and economic privileges including the right to reside, buy property, and conclude legitimate marriages. Saba 2011b argues that at least in the case of marriage rights—epigamia—a grant of isopoliteia did not automatically confer such constituent rights on those who did not activate their citizenship. See most recently Saba 2011b. Grants of isopoliteia to individuals, and grants of constituent rights are also acts of diplomatic discourse, of course, though they cannot be explored here. A polis or other state that did attempt to exercise authority over the citizens of another polis was likely to be condemned as tyrannical or despotic: e.g. the Corinthian description

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only to decree its own willingness to receive new citizens, not to declare that its own citizens would have the right of gaining citizenship elsewhere.11 This state of affairs was generally not problematic, since in the Hellenistic period, when isopoliteia became widespread, most poleis were afraid of depopulation and worked to add citizens and inhabitants rather than to keep foreigners out.12 While it is true that some poleis zealously controlled citizenship and residence within their spheres of authority, we should not expect that all poleis would do so, least of all the small and medium-sized ones. Still, at least as formally conceived, the right of potential citizenship in a given city should only have been granted by that city. The documents make this clear, whether isopoliteia is granted to a recipient in the dative, or whether another formula is used. For example, in the famous late third-century decrees of Miletus and Seleukeia (Tralles), each city granted isopoliteia to the other using the common dative formula. The Milesians decided δεδόσθαι δὲ καὶ πολιτείαν Σελευκεῦσι (“to give citizenship to the Seleukeis,” l. 17), while the Seleukeis wrote δεδόσθαι δὲ αὐτοῖς καὶ πολιτείαν (“to give them [i.e. the Milesians] citizenship,” l. 56).13 Similarly, when Temnos granted isopoliteia to the city of Teos in the late third century, they could announce δεδόχθαι τῆι βο[υλῆι] καὶ τῶ[ι δήµωι εἶ]ναι πολιτείαν Τηΐοις εν̣ Τ̣ ήµνωι … (“the boule and the demos decided that there be citizenship for the Teians in Temnos …”).14 The point here is that grants were directional: a city could grant isopoliteia to a partner but could not claim isopoliteia from a partner. The Milesians had to wait for the Seleukeian decree before they could enjoy isopoliteia in Seleukeia, while the inhabitants of Temnos may never have received a reciprocal grant from the Teians. Of some 200 documents and descriptions of isopoliteia known to me nearly all record grants that follow this directional logic. In fact, very often the relationship did become reciprocal, as in the exchange between Miletus and Seleukeia (Tralles) mentioned above. Long-standing traditions could allow for citizens of a colony to take up citizenship in the metropolis and vice-versa; Miletus and Olbia had a notable arrangement of this

11 12 13 14

of Athens as a “tyrant polis” (Thuc. 1.122.3). In the Hellenistic period, Larisa famously resisted the intervention of Philip V in that city’s citizenship policy: IG IX 2 517 with Graninger 2010: 321–322. The same considerations are valid also when citizenship was not activated and isopoliteia remained a privileged status: no city was empowered to decree for its own citizens privileges or high status elsewhere. Mackil 2004; Oliver 2011. Decree of Miletos: Milet I 3 143A; decree of Seleukeia (Tralles): Milet I 3 143B. SEG XXIX 1149, ll. 13–14.

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kind.15 In other cases pairs of cities granted the right of potential citizenship to each other.16 Most often we have just one decree or record of the diplomatic exchange, but it will typically refer to a decree or ambassadors sent from the partner city, which makes it clear that the decision to enter into a reciprocal relationship was mutual. In the vast majority of attested two-way grants, it is either certain or extremely likely that both sides had willingly agreed to a reciprocal pact by decreeing their own half of the exchange.17 At least, the exchanges recorded in most documents do not give any suggestion that there was anything problematic about the negotiation. One city sent ambassadors with a request, the other city passed a decree in agreement with the request, and both parties were satisfied. However, relations between poleis were not always happy, and grants of isopoliteia were not always made ‘by the book.’ In what follows, I will examine three cases in which a city appears to have claimed the right of potential citizenship in another city, in order to show how and why cities might overreach in this unexpected way. I will argue that these were not simply mistakes, nor were they aggressive usurpations of political authority. Rather, they were practical maneuvers necessitated by circumstances beyond the cities’ control. 2

Possible Overreach 1: Entella and Assoros

One way that a city might overstep its jurisdiction would be to declare outright that its citizens maintained the right of isopoliteia in another city. Probably in the middle of the third century BCE, and probably as a result of the First Punic War, the inhabitants of Entella in western Sicily were ejected from their homes and scattered over the island. A critical mass of the Entellinoi was able to reunite and resettle their city, and as they were doing so they passed decrees thanking the individuals and communities who had helped them. One such decree related to the people of Assoros, in the central-eastern part of the island, who had apparently granted isopoliteia to the Entellinoi before the disaster that uprooted them (Appendix 1). In thanking the Assorinoi for this earlier grant and for the fact that they “provided services” (l. 9) during the 15 16 17

Rhodes-Osborne GHI 93. E.g. I.Pergamon 5 for Pergamon and Temnos, or Milet I 3 146 for Miletus and Mylasa. For example, in Milet I 3 150 (first half of the second century BCE), a Milesian decree of isopoliteia with Herakleia under Latmos, the Milesians acknowledge that the Herakleiotai “sent a decree and ambassadors to ask the demos [of Miletus] to come to an agreement with them about the isopoliteia” (ll. 11–12: ψήφισµα καὶ πρεσβευτὰς ἀποστείλαντες ἠξίωσ̣ αν̣ τὸν δῆµον συνθέσθαι πρὸς αὑτοὺς ὑπὲρ τῆς ἰσοπολιτείας).

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resettlement, the Entellinoi also declared that they still had the right of isopoliteia at Assoros. Of course, the Entellinoi should still have possessed that right even after the dissolution of their polis. In fact, as I suggest below, some of the expelled Entellinoi may have found refuge in Assoros by activating their isopoliteia there. In citing the prior grant, the decree also recognizes the people of Assoros for their generosity.18 In the aftermath of their near-destruction, the people of Entella were making sure to publicize their gratitude for kindnesses both recent and ancient, particularly those that had helped them survive the present ordeal and which might likewise serve them well in the future. Nevertheless, if we accept the text of the decree as error-free, then it also records the Entellinoi unambiguously decreeing for themselves the right of potential citizenship in Assoros. The standard formula used in the Entella decrees to grant isopoliteia to their guardian angel cities and individuals is ἔδοξε τᾶι βουλᾶι καὶ τᾶι ἁλίαι εἴµειν αὐτοῖς εὔνοιαν καὶ ἰσοπολιτείαν ποτὶ τὸν δᾶµον τῶν Ἐντελλίνων (“the council and the assembly decided that they are to have eunoia and isopoliteia with the people of Entella”) where ποτὶ indicates the correct direction of the grant: the Entellinoi grant the right of potential citizenship in Entella to a recipient in the dative.19 In the decree for Assoros, on the other hand, the Entellinoi decree that they should continue to hold isopoliteia at Assoros in the following way: δεδόχθαι ὑπάρχειν ποτὶ τοὺς Ἀσσωρίνους τῶι δάµωι τῶν Ἐντελλίνων τάν τε ἰσοπολιτείαν τὰν ἐξ ἀρχᾶς ὑπάρχουσαν (“it was decided that the people of Entella are to have the isopoliteia with the Assorinoi that existed from the beginning” ll. 10–13), a decision that only the Assorinoi should have been able to make. To my knowledge no prior student of this text has investigated this reversal of the formula: scholars appear to assume that the relationship was automatically reciprocal.20 One might suggest that the bronze-cutter inadvertently reversed the normal formula in this decree and the Entellinoi were really granting isopoliteia to the Assorinoi rather than claiming it from them. That is possible, but unlikely, since the decree repeats the exact same phrasing at the very end in lines 20–22. Furthermore, the Entellinoi cite the isopoliteia they had at Assoros as one of the reasons for their gratitude and imply that it was one of the ways in which they were able to survive in exile. Yet it is hard to see how the Assorinoi could have helped the Entellinoi during their exile as holders of isopoliteia at 18

19 20

In two other decrees from this dossier, the Entellinoi also recognize assistance rendered in the context of an earlier war apparently unrelated to the episode that led to their expulsion: Porciani 2001 C2 for the people of Herbita and C3 for the people of Gela. See De Vido 2005 [2007]: 298 and 302–3 on the chronology of the events narrated in these two decrees. Porciani 2001 A2 ll. 13–17; A3 ll. 14–18; substantially identical formula in A1 ll. 11–14. E.g., Loomis 1994; Moggi 2001; Porciani 2001.

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Entella, since the city had been abandoned. It would make no sense for the Entellinoi to thank the Assorinoi for being previous recipients of isopoliteia at Entella, but a great deal of sense for them to thank the Assorinoi for offering isopoliteia, which could have allowed refugees from Entella to survive by fleeing to Assoros. A last potential objection, that the Entellinoi or their scribe did not consider the direction of an isopoliteia grant to be important, should be dismissed in light of their exact language elsewhere. If, as I suggest, the Entellinoi overreached here, they did so driven by the need to put their city on a more secure footing after nearly being erased. Building and solidifying relationships with the communities who had helped them survive as a polis was a good way to achieve this stability, which was a major goal of the decrees in the Entella dossier as a whole.21 Decrees in the dossier consistently reaffirm or augment the relationships and benefactions the Entellinoi recognized to have been crucial in their survival, and they may have reasserted the isopoliteia granted by Assoros precisely because it had been so important to them. 3

Possible Overreach 2: Allaria and Paros

Another way a city might overreach was to use diplomatic overtures from another city as a springboard to establish a relationship that its partner could not easily refuse. An intriguing exchange took place between the Cretan city of Allaria and the island-polis of Paros, either in the early second century BCE or perhaps earlier, ca. 220 BCE.22 An inscription found on Crete in the 16th century contains the very end of a decree of the Parians (Appendix 2, text A) and a complete letter from the Allariotai to the Parians, which includes an Allariote decree (Appendix 2, text B).23 That letter begins with a greeting (B ll. 1–2) and a preamble recording the arrival of ambassadors from Paros seeking asylia (or raising the issue of sulos “right of seizure”) (B ll. 2–8). There has been some debate about whether we should read περὶ τὠσύλω as containing a contracted but previously unattested form of asylia, “inviolability” (as Guarducci and Gawantka thought), or περὶ τῶ σύλω, in Cretan dialect, as containing a reference 21 22 23

I argued for just such a function in my unpublished M.A. thesis (UC Berkeley 2009), following on Mauro Moggi’s reading of the diplomatic situation: Moggi 1992 and 2001. Reger 1994: 66 is agnostic on the issue; Guarducci in I.Cret. II i 2 had proposed a second century BCE date while van Effenterre 1948: 255 n. 3 had proposed a date in the third century. The text is Guarducci’s in I.Cret. II i 2, who mentions the inscription’s initial discovery and its location (as of 1935) in Berlin; Gawantka 1975 K9.

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to sulos, “seizure” or the “right of seizure” (as J. and L. Robert thought).24 The outcome of the debate does not matter for my purposes, however; it is clear that the ambassadors had come to Allaria to discuss seizure or its prohibition, not isopoliteia.25 Whether the negotiations between Paros and Allaria involved formal asylia, a more general discussion of seizure, or even a specific case of seizure, the Allariotai did not address any of these things in their decree. The preamble is followed by the text of that decree, passed by the kosmoi and damos of the Allariotai, which declared among other things a mutual relationship of isopoliteia between Allaria and Paros (B ll. 8–25), a request for the Parians to suggest changes (B ll. 25–26) and a farewell (B l. 26).26 While the content of the Parians’ decree in Text A is not specified in the preserved lines, it was clearly communicated with some force as we can see from the final clauses on verification and purpose. The decree in Text A was likely the most recent action in this negotiation, and responded to the issues raised by the letter in Text B: seizure, appeals to philia and eunoia, and perhaps isopoliteia. Recording a series of texts in reverse chronological order is common in Hellenistic Greek epigraphy, and that is how I read this inscription. Since Text A preserves nothing about the substantive issues, however, it would not matter much if Text A was in fact earlier than Text B. All this would change is that the Allariotai would have sent ambassadors to Paros first, indicating a slightly more extended sequence of exchanges. To return to the substance of the negotiation, line 4 of Text B contains the only mention of seizure in the document; the Allariote decree does not further 24 25

26

Guarducci in I.Cret; Gawantka 1975: 117; J. and L. Robert in BE 1940 no. 117. Angelos Chaniotis indicates per epistulam that περὶ τῶ σύλω in Cretan dialect is the only correct reading and that the suggestion of Guarducci and Gawantka cannot be supported. Isopoliteia could of course be a live issue in negotiations over asylia, but in most cases asylia was also a one-way grant offered according to normal rules of legal capacity, i.e. without overstepping authority. The cities of Kamarina and Gela (restored) each based their grants of asylia to Kos ca. 242 BCE on prior isopoliteia they had granted to the Koans: Rigsby 1996 nos. 48–9. The Phokian koinon added isopoliteia to the asylia requested by Tenos in the third century BCE: Rigsby 1996 no. 53. The Cretan cities Biannos and Malla also added isopoliteia to renewals of asylia granted to Teos: Rigsby 1996 nos. 156–7. The Cretan city Arkades did the same, and the decree of that city credits the Tean ambassadors as the reason isopoliteia was added: “… because the ambassadors exhorted us to grant to you isopoliteia, and the right to purchase land and houses, and ateleia, we grant these to you …” (Rigsby 1996 no. 159 ll. 35–38). This is a remarkably blunt account of the negotiations, and it is unclear whether we should see such explicit requests lying behind other instances where a city granted more than what had been initially requested. On the alternate readings of τωσυλω see Gawantka 1975: 117 and n. 55. He believes that the formulation can only have referred to asylia, following Blass in SGDI 4940, though others have thought differently, i.e., Schlesinger 1933: 7.

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address the question but instead acknowledges the eunoia and philia, and then declares mutual isopoliteia as well as mutual participation in religious events. This is especially strange in light of ll. 14–15, in which the Allariotai boast that they are confirming the philia and eunoia “in order that we [i.e. the Allariotai] may make ourselves manifest in bringing about the same things as those being proposed.” The Allariotai explicitly acknowledge and reciprocate the request for philia and eunoia but take the question of seizure in a different direction.27 The Parians appear to have gotten more than they had bargained for, an outcome that we can explain in light of the historical context and the concept of diplomatic discourse. The Allariote decree of mutual isopoliteia did not in itself create the relationship, but it did impose a starting point on future negotiations. For the Allariotai to declare that they would be isopolitai in Paros was a breach of Parian authority, though a tentative one; when the Allariotai informed the Parians that they had decided “there is to be isopoliteia for the Allariotai and the Parioi” (ll. 15–16), they were setting the terms of the negotiation. The Parians could have objected, though as we will see they may not have been in a good position to do so. Regarding the historical context, one thinks immediately of Cretan piracy, which led many Aegean cities to seek immunity or defense. Such a scenario evokes a power differential in which the Parians would have come begging for an end to Allariote raiding. What is perhaps strange here is that at least in this record of events, the Allariotai had sent ambassadors to Paros first, on the business of eunoia and philia (B ll.5–8). The motive is not known, and this embassy may well have been in response to an unrecorded Parian request. The Parians were apparently willing to engage, and in fact they appear to have been the first to bring up the issue of seizure, taking up philia and eunoia as ways to encourage the Allariotai to negotiate in good faith. While a more violent response could have been in preparation behind the diplomatic overture, they were asking, in effect, for the Allariotai to make a concession without being able to offer anything beyond the generic philia and eunoia that the Cretans had asked for. In this instance, the Allariotai pressed their diplomatic advantage: isopoliteia and mutual rights of religious participation went well beyond a grant of asylia and created a closer diplomatic connection than the Parians

27

Gawantka 1975: 117: “Die Allarioten antworteten darauf aber nicht, wie man erwarten sollte, mit der Konzession von Asylie, sondern mit dem Angebot wechelseitiger ἰσοπολιτεία … obwohl dies vom Initiator gar nicht vorgeschlagen worden war.”

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had perhaps wanted.28 The Allariotai in granting isopoliteia did not ignore the issue of seizure but did downplay it. It is not entirely clear why the Allariotai would seek such a close connection, but they appear here on stone declaring a mutual relationship that they were not formally empowered to declare.29 While ambassadors from Paros were present in Allaria before, and potentially during, the passing of the decree reported in the letter, according to the letter they were there to talk about seizure, not isopoliteia or any religious co-operation. It is impossible that the letter-cutter inscribed either τῶ σύλω in error in B l.4 or ἰσοπολιτεία in error in B l.16: in both cases the surrounding grammar is specific enough to preclude the words having been switched. Instead, we must conclude that the Allariotai responded to a petition about seizure with a declaration of mutual isopoliteia. This declaration could in fact have served mainly to show that the Allariotai were the ones in charge of the negotiations. Such an assertive act may well have been possible because they held the upper hand on the question of seizure, and it required the Parians either to acquiesce or to assert their own authority. This encroachment on the jurisdiction of the Parians is best understood as part of an extended negotiation, the full parameters of which we do not know.30 Text A could equally have recorded the Parians’ assent to mutual isopoliteia or their rejection of it, but unfortunately their response is not preserved. Although the letter of the Allariotai did include a request that the Parians should indicate if anything ought to be added or taken away from the decree (ll. 25–26), their own decree had already been passed, and the overreach of jurisdiction had already taken place. In fact, εὐχαριστῶµες (l. 26) could be translated simply as “we would be thankful” rather than “we would oblige,” in which case they need not even be explicitly promising to make the changes at all. It is difficult to believe that the Allariotai would have so openly bypassed the issue on which the Parians had voted a decree and sent ambassadors, and then have earnestly opened their own decree up to adjustments by the Parians. In 28

29 30

Gawantka 1975: 117 n. 56: “Die Tatsache, daß in diesem Dekret di Asylie formal nicht enthalten ist … beweist nur, daß sie dieses Mal in der Isopolitie inbegriffen gedacht wurde. Wie die anderen gennanten Beispiele zeigen, war das keineswegs immer der Fall …” Schlesinger 1933: 58 thought that isopoliteia “already in itself pre-empted reprisal measures between the kin of both states.” For isopoliteia in Crete, see Chaniotis 1996: 101–4. Most studies of isopoliteia on Crete focus on the role of this diplomatic tool in the relations between Cretan cities and in the growth and nature of the Cretan Koinon: van der Mijnsbrugge 1931: 32–33 and 56; Guizzi 1999. Chaniotis 1996: 63 cites this inscription as an exemplary document of continuous back and forth exchanges in negotiations.

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my view, the Allariotai realized that the Parians were asking for a favor, and rather than simply agreeing to it, they chose to impose a different relationship. Their solicitation of corrigenda was disingenuous, and while a truly mutual agreement may eventually have been struck, it began with an overreach by the Allariotai. 4

Possible Overreach 3: Messene and Phigaleia

Finally, a city could unilaterally declare a mutual relationship when coerced by a greater power. This seems to have been the situation documented by a decree of Messene in which the Aetolian League was heavily involved, found at Phigaleia and dated to around the year 240 BCE (Appendix 3).31 The decree records that Aetolian ambassadors brought news of an Aetolian decree that the Messenians should reconcile with the Phigaleians (ll. 1–9). The majority of the text reports a Messenian decree presumably conforming to the instructions of the Aetolians, including a declaration of isopoliteia between the Messenians and Phigaleians (ll. 9–21). The Phigaleians’ role in the proceedings is then described in two lines: “The Phigaleis also decided to act in accordance with what the Messenioi voted” (ll. 21–22).32 The final preserved lines give the oath to be sworn by the Messenians (ll.22–26). While it is true that the Phigaleians are on record agreeing to everything decided by the Messenians (who had been told what to say by the Aetolians), they were not entering into this reciprocal arrangement as equal partners. In the first place, although the stele was found at Phigaleia, the inscription can hardly be described as an exercise of decision-making power on the part of the Phigaleians, since the text overwhelmingly presents the Messenians as protagonists. It is true that Phigaleian ambassadors arrived in Messene along with those of the Aetolians, but their role, in the decree anyway, is limited to joining the Aetolians in requesting that the Messenians allow themselves to be reconciled. In fact, since the Aetolians arrived with a decree of their own in hand, it looks as though they had already made their decision and simply presented it to the Messenians and Phigaleians as a fait accompli. Second, the decree voted by the Messenians and ratified by the Phigaleians contained a 31 32

Ager 1996 no. 40 I with editions and apparatus; Gawantka 1975 no. 30. This is my translation of the widely accepted restoration of line 22 as reprinted by Ager, which I think suggests a degree of obsequiousness. Still, even if one were to translate along the lines of “it was decided also by the Phigaleis to make the same decree as what the Messenioi voted,” the fact would remain that the Phigaleians appear as active agents in only a very few lines in this document.

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clause (ll. 19–21) that the agreement would be void if the Phigaleians failed to “abide by the philia with the Messenioi and the Aitoloi.” This threat strongly suggests that the Phigaleians had been offered a deal that helped them in some way but also required them to stomach some unfavorable terms. Significantly, this clause also groups the Messenians and Aetolians together and sets up the Phigaleians as potential violators of a relationship with the two other entities. The Messenians’ oath appears to require the same dedication to the philia between them and the Phigaleians, but they were not likely to violate an agreement that they themselves had proposed. In any case, the Messenians were already acting as surrogates of the Aetolians, so they had likely already accepted the fact of Aetolian leadership on this issue. The oath kept the Messenians in line vis à vis the Aetolians, not the Phigaleians. In my view, the philia is the agreement itself (homologia), and the threat is that if the Phigaleians violate the good faith created by the agreement, the agreement will no longer be valid. This reading only makes sense if the alternative to the agreement—war, quite possibly—would have been worse for the Phigaleians. Similarly, there must have been both motive and opportunity for the Phigaleians to violate the philia, again indicating that the agreement was understood not to be favorable to them. The fact that they and not the Messenians are named explicitly as potential violators indicates that their obedience was most in question, and suggests that they needed to be forced to the negotiating table. The reason (or pretense) for the Aetolians’ involvement in the first place was a boundary dispute between Phigaleia and its much larger neighbor to the south in the 240s, and we may imagine undesirable outcomes for both cities if the agreement failed, though perhaps greater danger for Phigaleia.33 Ironically, by the late 220s the Aetolians were launching attacks on Messene from Phigaleia.34 Aetolian influence was growing in the middle of the third century, and isopoliteia grants played a key role in that growth, though usually among members of the League.35 This inscription is a manifestation of Aetolian influence in Messene and Phigaleia, and represents a settlement more or less imposed by the Aetolians on the two cities.36 What is less universally agreed upon is how the Aetolians, Messenians, and Phigaleians were linked in the years before the 33 34 35 36

Ager 1996 no. 40 II and III for the relevant inscriptions; Gauthier 1972: 367 had seen a true “contestation, et sans doute...conflit” behind the border dispute. Luraghi 2008: 258 citing Polyb. 4.3.5–11 and 4.6.7–12. See Scholten 2000: 121–23 and Mackil 2013: 102 and 359–61 on isopoliteia as an Aetolian political instrument. Gawantka 1975: 67 n. 60: “Offenbar konnte nur massiver aitolisher Druck die Messenier überhaupt dazu bewegen, diese « Streitbeilegung »—διάλυσις—einzugehen.”

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treaty.37 Whatever the nature of those relationships, the Aetolians were powerful enough to induce the Messenians to unilaterally decree mutual isopoliteia with Phigaleia. This sort of influence no doubt drove a great deal of Hellenistic diplomacy and probably underlies many decrees where we have little or no indication of the hegemon lurking in the shadows. It is true that in this case, ambassadors from Phigaleia were present when the Messenians passed their decree, and the Phigaleians did formally agree to everything decreed by the Messenians. But the Phigaleians likely had little say in the content of the Messenian decree and had little choice but to accept it once it was passed. 5

Conclusions: Cities in Trouble, Cities Leveraging Their Position, and Cities being Used

Why, then, did these cities overstep their jurisdiction, even temporarily and tentatively, as in the case of Allaria and Messene? The explanations lie in the various predicaments cities found themselves in. The Entellinoi had nearly seen their polis dissolved, and they wanted to maintain Assoros as a welcoming refuge should a similar disaster occur in the future. The Allariotai were facing some kind of demand from the Parians on the issue of seizure, a response that isopoliteia and the potential integration of some Allariotai as Parian citizens could neutralize or alleviate. The Messenians had come under the gaze of the Aetolian League and, no less than the Phigaleians, had to accede to the Aetolian wishes. At first glance, these decrees present stable and friendly relationships, although this discussion has revealed considerable insecurities and power differences. Only by examining seemingly trivial violations of formal jurisdiction do we begin to see what was being papered over.

37

Larsen 1968: 202–3 and Walbank in CAH VII2.1: 235, 250 thought Phigaleia was originally closer to the Aetolians; Mackil 2013: 102 n. 68 wondered if Messene had actually been the original Aetolian ally.

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Appendix 1: Entella and Assoros (Porciani 2001) 1

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ἐπὶ ἱεροµνάµονος Λευκίου τοῦ Πακκίου Εὐµενιδείου ἕκται ἐφ’ ἱκάδα. ἔ[δοξ]ε̣ τᾶ̣[ι] ἁλίαι καθὰ καὶ τᾶι βουλᾶι· ἐ[πε]ι ̣δὴ̣ ἔν τε τοῖς ἔµπροσθεν χρόνο[ι]ς ̣ ὑ̣πάρ⟨χ⟩ει ἁµῖν ἰσοπολιτεία ποτὶ τοὺς Ἀσσωρίνους, ὁµοίως δὲ καὶ νῦν τὰµ πόλιν ἁµῶν συνοικιζόντων χρείας παρέχονται κατὰ δ̣ύναµιν, δεδόχθαι ὑπάρχειν ποτὶ τοὺς Ἀσσωρίνους τῶι δάµωι τῶν Ἐντελλίνων τάν τε ἰσοπολιτείαν τὰν ἐξ ἀρχᾶς ὑπάρχουσαν κ̣ αὶ φιλίαν καὶ εὔνοι⟨α⟩ν, καὶ κατακ̣ αλεῖσθαι αὐτοὺς εἰς τοὺς ἀγῶνας· τὸ δὲ ἁλίασµα τοῦτο οἱ ἄρχοντες γράψαντες εἰς χάλκωµα ἀναθέντω εἰς τὸ ἱερὸν τᾶς Ἱστίας, ὅπως ὑπόµναµα γίνηται τοῖς ἐπιγινοµένοις τᾶς ὑπαρχούσας εὐνοίας καὶ ἰσοπολιτείας ποτὶ τοὺς Ἀσσωρίνους. ΑΣΣΟΡΙΝΩΝ

When Leukios son of Pakkios was hieromnamon, on the twenty-sixth of Eumenideios. The assembly decided along with the council: (5) Since in the times before there existed for us isopoliteia with the Assorinoi, and similarly even now while we are synoikizing our city they provided services to the (10) best of their ability it was decided that the people of Entella are to have the isopoliteia with the Assorinoi that existed from the beginning as well as philia and eunoia, and that they be invited (15) to the games. The archons are to write this decree on a bronze plaque and set it up at the temple of Hestia, so that there may be a reminder (20) to posterity of the eunoia and isopoliteia existing with the Assorinoi. [Decree] about the Assorinoi.

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Appendix 2: Allaria and Paros (I.Cret. II i 2) A1

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[– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –] [– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –]αε[– – – – – – – –] [– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –]ανα[– – – – – – –] [– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –] δ̣ὲ̣ καὶ τὰ γρά[µµατα] [τὰ τῶν παραγενοµένων] ἀ̣εὶ ἐξ Ἀλλαρίας [τοὺς ἄρ][χοντ]ας ̣ [ἐν τῶι δ]ηµοσίωι µετὰ τοῦ γραµµατ[έως]. [ἐξ]αποστεῖλαι δὲ τοὺς ἄρχοντας τοὺς περὶ Ἄ̣ [γα]θ̣ιν τοῦδε τοῦ ψηφίσµατος τὸ ἀντίγραφον σφραγισαµένους τεῖ δηµοσίαι σφραγῖδι ὅπως παρακολουθῶσιν Ἀλλαριῶται τὰ ἐψηφισµένα περὶ τούτων. vacat Ἀλλαριωτᾶν οἱ κόσµοι καὶ ἁ πόλις Παρίων τᾶι βουλᾶι καὶ τῶι δάµωι χαίρεµ. παραγενοµένων τῶν πρεσβευτᾶν ποτ’ ἀµέ, Φάνιός τε καὶ ∆όρκω, οὓς ἀπεστείλατε πρεσβεύσοντας περὶ τὠσύλω ποθ’ ἁµέ, καὶ ἀνανεωσαµένων αὐτῶν ἐν τᾶι πρεσβείαι κατὰ τὸ ψάφισµα τὸ παρ’ ὑµῶν τάν τε φιλίαν καὶ τὰν εὔνοιαν τὰν ὑπάρχουσαν ταῖς πόλεσι ποτ’ ἀλλάλας δι⟨α⟩φυλάττε⟨ι⟩ν, ἐπὶ κόσµων τῶν περὶ Φιλόνβροτον τὸν Εὐθυµάχω, ἀγαθᾶι τύχαι δεδόχθαι Ἀλλαριωτᾶν τοῖς κόσµοις καὶ τᾶι πόλει· ἐπαινέσαι µὲν τὸν δᾶµον τῶν Παρίων διότι διαφυλάττει τὰν φιλίαν καὶ τὰν εὔνοιαν πρὸς τὰν πόλιν τὰν ἁµάν, κατὰ ταὐτὰ δὲ ὑπάρχειν καὶ Παρίοις τὰν φιλίαν καὶ τὰν εὔνοιαν παρὰ Ἀλλαριωτᾶν, ὅπως φαινώµεθα τὰ ὅµοια τοῖς προαιρουµένοις ἁµὲ⟨ς⟩ συντελόντε⟨ς⟩. εἶµεν δὲ Ἀλλαριώταις καὶ Παρίοις ἰσοπολιτείαν, µετέχωσιν τῶι τε Ἀλλαριώται ἐµ Πάρωι καὶ θείνων καὶ ἀνθρωπίνων, ὡσαύτως δὲ καὶ τῷ Παρίωι ἐν Ἀλλαρίαι µετέχωσι καὶ θείνων καὶ ἀνθρωπίνων. ἐὰν ⟨δὲ⟩ συνδοκεῖ ταῦτα τῶι δάµωι τῶι Παρίων, ἀναγραψάντων αἱ πόλεις ἀµφότεραι ἐς στάλαν λιθίναν καὶ ἀνθέντων Πάριοι µὲν ἐς τὸ ἱερὸν τᾶς ∆άµατρος, Ἀλλαριῶται δὲ ἐς τὸ ἱερὸν τῶ{ι} Ἀπόλλωνος. ταῦτα δὲ εἶναι ἐφ’ ὑγιείαι καὶ σωτηρίαι τᾶν πόλεων ἀµφοτερᾶν. ἐὰν δέ τι φαίνηται ὑµε⟨ῖ⟩ν προσθεῖναι ἢ ἀφέλαι, εὐχαριστῶµες. vacat ἔρρωσθε.

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A … and the archons are to [deposit] the correspondence of everyone who arrived from Allaria (5) in the public office with the secretary. And the archons with Agathis are to dispatch a copy of this decree, sealing it with the public seal, so that the Allariotai may follow closely what has been voted about these issues. B The kosmoi and the polis of the Allariotai to the council and the people of the Parioi greetings. Since the ambassadors Phanis and Dorkos, whom you sent on a mission to us about seizure, have arrived among us, and since (5) in their embassy according to the decree from you they renewed both the philia and the eunoia that the cities have toward one another in order to preserve [the philia and eunoia],38 when the kosmoi were those with Philombrotos son of Euthymachos, with good fortune (10) the kosmoi and the polis of the Allariotai decided to praise the Parian people because it preserves the philia and eunoia toward our city and accordingly that the Parioi also are to have the philia and eunoia from the Allariotai, in order that we may make ourselves manifest (15) in bringing about the same things as those being proposed. And there is to be isopoliteia for the Allariotai and the Parioi, and they are to have a share in both divine affairs and mortal ones, for the Allariote in Paros, and likewise also for the Parian in Allaria they are to have a share in both divine affairs and mortal ones. And if (20) the Parian people agree on these points, both cities are to inscribe [the agreement] on a stone stele and set it up, the Parioi at the temple of Demeter, and the Allariotai at the temple of Apollo. And these things are to be for the health and preservation of (25) both cities. But if it seems right to you to add or remove anything at all, we would oblige. Farewell.

38

This translation of the clause, with a slightly awkward infinitive of purpose, depends on reading διαφυλάττειν where the stone has διεφυλάττεν; Naber 1853: 35 proposed that “[t]he Parian stonecutter, who did not understand Doric, did not know what to do with διαφυλάττεν and on his own authority made of it an absurd imperfect,” i.e. διεφυλάττεν (author’s translation from the Dutch). More than a century earlier de Montfaucon and Henry 1725: 55–6, had printed διαφυλάττεν and construed the word as an infinitive of purpose, a reading that has persisted ever since. The erroneous διαφυλάττεν might represent a remnant of the Parian decree mentioned a few lines earlier, in which case one would translate “… in accordance with your decree to preserve [the philia and eunoia]…” (translation suggested by Tom Hendrickson). Nikolaos Papazarkadas suggests per epistulam that διαφυλάττεν might equally represent a more ambiguous fragment of the Parian ambassadors’ original statement, in which case it might be excised completely. More exhaustive analysis of the clause would reward the attention and might yield additional insights into the discursive nature of diplomatic language.

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Appendix 3: Messene, Phigaleia and the Aetolians (IG V.2 419) 1

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[Ἐπειδὴ ἐπελθόντες ο]ἱ πρεσβευταὶ καὶ διαλύο[ντες οἱ παρὰ τῶν Αἰτω]λῶν Τίµαιος, Κλεόπατρος, [… … τὸ τε ψάφισ]µα τὸ παρὰ τῶν Αἰτωλῶν ἀπ[έδωκαν καὶ αὐτοὶ] διελέγοντο ὅµοια τοῖς ἐν τ[ῶι ψαφίσµατι ἀ]ξιῶντες διαλυθῆναι ποτὶ τῶ[ς Φιαλέας, συνπ]αρόντες δὲ καὶ τῶν ἐ Φιαλείας [παρελθόντων] Θαρυκίδας, Ὀνόµανδρος, Ἀνφίµα[χος, …….]λας, Ὀρθολαΐδας, Κραταιµένης, Τι[… ……. ∆]αµάτρεος τὰ αὐτ̣ὰ ἀξίων, ἔδοξε τᾶι [πόλει τᾶι Μ]εσανίων, ἦµεν τοῖς Μεσσανίοις κ̣ α[ὶ τοῖς Φια]λέοις ἰσοπολιτείαν καὶ ἐπιγαµία[ν ποτὶ ἀλλ]άλως, ποιήσασθαι δὲ καὶ συνβολάν, ἅ[νπερ δοκεῖ] ἀνφοτέραις ταῖς πολέοις, τὰν δὲ χ[ώραν καρπ]ίζεσσθαι ἑκατέρως τώς τε Μεσανίω[ς καὶ τὼς Φι]αλέας, καθὼς καὶ νῦν καρπιζόµεθα· [… ……. κ]α̣ ὁµολογήσωµες πὸτ [ἀ]λλάλως, ὁµό[σαι ἀνφοτέρω]ς καὶ στάλας καταθέσθαι ἐν τοῖς [ἱεροῖς, ὅπαι κ]α̣ δοκεῖ ἀνφοτέραις ταῖς πολέο[ις· εἰ δέ κα µὴ ἐµ]µένωντι οἱ Φιαλέες ἐν τᾶι φιλ[ίαι τᾶι πὸτ τὼς Μ]ε̣σανίως καὶ Αἰτωλώς, ἄκυρος ἔ[στω πἀσα ἁ ὁµολο]γία. ἔδοξε δὲ καὶ τοῖς Φιαλέ[ο][ις ποιεῖν καθ’ ἃ ο]ἱ Μεσσάνιοι ἐψαφίξαντ[ο. ὅρκ][ος Μεσσανίων· ὀµν]ύω ∆ία Ἰθωµάταν, Ἡρα̣…. . ̣́ πάντας· ἦ] … 14 … ον καὶ θεὼς ὁρκ̣ ι[ως [µὰν ἐµµεν̣εῖν …] ἐν τᾶι φιλί[αι τᾶι ὑπαρχώσαι] [πὸτ Αἰτωλὼς καὶ Φι]αλέας τ̣[οῖς Μεσσανίοις, . .] … 15 … µεν̣ … 18 …

Since the ambassadors from the Aitoloi have come and have reconciled, Timaios, Kleopatros, … they both delivered the decree from the Aitoloi and they themselves discussed similar things as what was in (5) the decree, thinking it worthy to be reconciled with the Phigaleis, and since of those arriving from Phigaleia there are also present Tharukidas, Onomandros, Amphimachos, —las, Ortholaidas, Krataimenes, Ti—, and Damatrios thinking the same things, (10) the Messenian polis decided that there be isopoliteia and epigamia for the Messenioi and the Phigaleis toward one other, and that they create a treaty which both cities approve, and they are to enjoy the fruits of the territory in either way, both the Messenioi (15) and the Phigaleis, just as now we enjoy its fruits; and if we are in agreement with each other, swear on both sides and set

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up stelai at the temples, wherever both cities approve; but if the Phigaleis do not abide by the philia (20) with the Messenioi and the Aitoloi, the entire agreement is to be invalid. The Phigaleis also decided to act in accordance with what the Messenioi voted. Oath of the Messenioi: I swear by Zeus Ithomatas, Hera … and all the gods invoked in an oath … (25) to abide by the philia that the Messenioi have with the Aitoloi and the Phigaleis …

Works Cited Ager, S.L. 1996. Interstate arbitrations in the Greek world, 337–90 B.C. Berkeley. Chaniotis, A. 1996. Die Verträge zwischen kretischen Poleis in der hellenistischen Zeit. Stuttgart. De Vido, S. 2005 [2007]. “Le espressioni di tempo nei decreti di Entella.” In Cresci Marrone, G. and A. Pistellato (eds.), Studi in ricordo di Fulvviomario Broilo. Atti del Convegno, Venezia 14–15 Ottobre 2005, 293–316. Padova. van Effenterre, H. 1948. La Crète et le monde grec de Platon à Polybe. Paris. Gauthier, P. 1972. Symbola: Les étrangers et la justice dans les cités grecques. Nancy. Gawantka, W. 1975. Isopolitie: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der zwischenstaatlichen Beziehungen in der griechischen Antike. Munich. Graninger, D. 2010. “Macedonia and Thessaly.” In J. Roisman and I. Worthington (eds.), A Companion to Ancient Macedonia, 306–325. Malden, MA. Guizzi, F. 1999. “Private Economic Activities in Hellenistic Crete: The Evidence of the Isopoliteia Treaties.” In A. Chaniotis (ed.), From Minoan Farmers to Roman Traders, 235–245. Heidelberg. Larsen, J.A.O. 1968. Greek federal states: Their institutions and history. Oxford. Loomis, W.T. 1994. “Entella Tablets. VI (254–241 BC) and VII (20th Cent. AD?).” HSPh 96: 127–60. Luraghi, N. 2008. The ancient Messenians: Constructions of ethnicity and memory. Cambridge. Ma, J. 2000. Antiochus III and the Cities of Western Asia Minor. London. Mackil, E. 2004. “Wandering Cities: Alternatives to Catastrophe in the Greek Polis.” AJA 108: 493–516. Mackil, E. 2013. Creating a common polity: Religion, economy, and politics in the making of the Greek koinon. Berkeley. van der Mijnsbrugge, M. 1931. The Cretan koinon. New York. Moggi, M. 1992. “Le relazioni interstatali di Entella prima e dopo il sinecismo.” In L. Biondi and C. Cassanelli (eds.), Giornate internazionali di studi sull’area elima. Gibellina, 19–22 settembre 1991 : atti, 483–500. Pisa.

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Moggi, M. 2001. “Entella e le « vie delle città »: orizzonti politici.” In C. Ampolo and M.C. Parra (eds.), Da un’antica città di Sicilia: i decreti di Entella e Nakone: catalogo della mostra, 115–21. Pisa. de Montfaucon, B. and Henley, J. 1725. The antiquities of Italy. Being the travels of the learned and reverend Bernard de Montfaucon, from Paris through Italy, in the years 1698 and 1699 … made English from the Paris edition of the Latin original. Adorn’d with cuts. London. Naber, S.A. 1853. “Twee Cretische inscripties. Het verbond van Allaria: Het testament van Ago.” Mnemosyne 2: 30–42. Oliver, G.J. 2011. “Mobility, Society and Economy in the Hellenistic Period.” In Z. Archibald, J.K. Davies, and V. Gabrielsen (eds.), The economies of Hellenistic societies, third to first centuries BC, 345–67. Oxford. Osborne, M. 1981–1983. Naturalization in Athens. 4 volumes. Brussels. Porciani, L. 2001. “I decreti: testo e traduzione.” In C. Ampolo and M.C. Parra (eds.), Da un’antica città di Sicilia: i decreti di Entella e Nakone: catalogo della mostra, 11–31. Pisa. Reger, G. 1994. “The Political History of the Kyklades 260–200 B.C.” Historia 43: 32–69. Rigsby, K. 1996. Asylia: Territorial Inviolability in the Hellenistic World. Berkeley. Saba, S. 2009. “Delphi, Sardis and Citizenship: a Note.” Dike 12: 171–80. Saba, S. 2011a. “Nagidos, Arsinoe and Isopoliteia.” Dike 15: 159–70. Saba, S. 2011b. “Epigamia in Hellenistic Interstate Treaties.” AncSoc 41: 93–108. Savalli, I. 1985. “I neocittadini nelle città ellenistiche: Note sulla concessione e l’acquisizione della ‘politeia.’” Historia 34: 387–431. Schlesinger, E. 1933. Die griechische asylie. Göttingen. Scholten, J.B. 2000. The politics of plunder: Aitolians and their koinon in the early Hellenistic era, 279–217 B.C. Berkeley. Wallace, S. 2010. Ancient Crete: From successful collapse to democracy’s alternatives, twelfth to fifth centuries BC. Cambridge.

Chapter 6

New Hellenistic Inscriptions from Phigaleia (Arcadia) Athanassios Themos and Eleni Zavvou The ancient city of Phigaleia is located on the north bank of the Neda river on the south-west edge of Arcadia (Peloponnese), near the borders with Triphylia and Messenia.1 The site is surrounded by the mountains Minthi and Kotilion to the north, Lykaion and Tetrazi to the east and south respectively. Phigaleia is attested as a polis in the Delphic accounts of the naopoioi, ca. 360 BC (CID II 4 col. III.45 = CID III5, 3 col. III.45), as well as in the works of Polybius (4.3.7) and Diodorus Siculus (15.40.2 - r 374).2 Its main urban centre is located to the east of the modern village of Pavlitsa. A number of other secondorder or satellite settlements also existed in its territory.3 One such settlement has been associated with the Classical temple of Apollo Bassitas or Epikourios on the south side of the Kotilion mountain,4 which is famous for its Doric architecture and sculptural decoration. In his account of the city of Phigaleia, Pausanias (VIII, 39–41) mentions the sanctuaries of Artemis Soteira (Savior), Dionysos Acratophoros and a statue of Hermes at the gymnasium. A temple of Athena is known from a 1st cent. AD inscription, which mentions its restoration,5 while another very worn inscription twice makes reference to the epithet Polias of the same goddess (IG V.2

1 We are greatly indebted to Dr X. Arapogianni for entrusting us with the publication of this important epigraphical material, and for her continuous support and encouragement. We are also grateful to Dr. A.P. Matthaiou for generously offering his help at all stages of our work, and to Prof. A. Chaniotis for invaluable comments. A.A. Themos would like to thank AIEGL for awarding him a prestigious Geza Alföldy Stipend that allowed him to travel to Berkeley and present a version of this article at the 2nd North American Congress of Greek and Latin Epigraphy. 2 See the detailed discussion by Nielsen 2004, 527–528, who also deals with the problem of the exact form of the name of Phigaleia. 3 Cooper and Myers 1981, 133. See also Nielsen 2004, 527–528 no. 292. 4 Yalouris 1979, 90. 5 Te Riele 1966, 266 no. 11 (SEG XXIII 237); Bull. Epigr. 1967, no. 278.

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42, ll. 2 and 5). The cult of Hygeia is also attested in a votive inscription of the 4th cent. BC.6 Excavations in the ancient city were quite limited before the 1990s. Only a springhouse of the late 4th or the early 3rd cent. BC had been excavated by Anastasios Orlandos in 1927,7 and some other plots of land by the Ephorate of Antiquities of Olympia.8 Systematic archaeological investigation was resumed by Dr. Arapogianni from 1994 onwards. These new excavations revealed a temple on the south edge of the plateau of the Kourdoubouli hill within the fortification walls of the ancient city. The building has a length of 15.70 m. and a width of 7.70 m., and is divided into a pronaos and a sekos where a base for the cult statue was found in situ.9 It was dedicated to Athena and Zeus Soter, as shown by an inscribed statue base.10 Zeus was also worshipped as Πατρώιος, as another fragmentary inscription found in the same excavation shows (inscription no. IV below). In yet another inscription, the honorary decree for Ἀριστοβώλα, Athena is called Polias,11 an epithet already known, as we have indicated, from IG V.2 421. Until the recent excavations, the number of inscribed Phigaleian monuments was rather limited. In the Arcadian epigraphic corpus IG V.2, which was published in 1913, only twelve inscriptions (IG V.2 419–430) originating from the territory of the ancient city were included. Another thirteen inscriptions from Pavlitsa were published by Gérard-Jean Te Riele in the Bulletin de Correspondance Hellénique of 1966.12 The picture changed considerably after the inception of the excavations and other archaeological investigation

6 7 8 9

10 11 12

Te Riele 1966, 251 no. 1 (SEG XXIII 240). For other cults which are attested through the city’s numismatic evidence see Jost 1985, 85–86. Orlandos 1927/28, 1–7. Arapogianni 2001, 300. Arapogianni 1996b, 134; Arapogianni 2001, 301; Arapogianni 2002, 9. As Arapogianni has pointed out the building has obvious similarities with the temple of Asklepius in the neighboring Arcadian city of Alipheira: see Arapogianni 1996b, 129 note 2; Arapogianni 2001, 301–302. Arapogianni 1996a, 43; Arapogianni 1996b, 134; Arapogianni 2001, 302. See also SEG XLVI 448; SEG XLVII 441; SEG LI 511C; SEG LII 457B; SEG LVI 492bis. See below. Te Riele 1966, 248–273. Of these inscriptions the following are worth mentioning: the dedication of Prokleidas to the goddess Hygeia (4th c. BC), whose cult in Phigaleia had been previously unattested (Te Riele 1966, no. 1 = SEG XXIII 240); a fragmentary inscription on a territorial arbitration of the second half of the 3rd cent. BC (Te Riele 1966, no. 5 = SEG XXIII 236; BE (1967) no. 278; SEG XXV 454); and the aforementioned fragmentary inscription from the Kourdoubouli hill that attests to the restoration of the temple of Athena, perhaps during the 1st c. AD (Te Riele 1966, no. 11 = SEG XXIII 237; BE (1967), no. 278).

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undertaken by Xeni Arapogianni at Pavlitsa.13 These brought to light twenty seven new fragments of stone inscriptions.14 Other epigraphical finds include a few stamped tiles,15 a bronze sheet with the text of a manumission of ca. 460–450 BC,16 and a bronze pin of the Archaic period which preserves the votive inscription τἀθαναία ἄρδι⟨ν⟩ according to the reading and interpretation of A.P. Matthaiou,17 while R.S. Stroud did not exclude the possibility of the name Ἄρδι⟨ς⟩.18 The new epigraphic material, which is currently being studied, brings out the importance of the temple of Athena and Zeus for the city of Phigaleia and provides new evidence for its political relations with other cities. During the course of our study, many inscribed fragments were put together and the initial 27 fragments were found to belong to a smaller number of inscriptions dating from the end of the 4th cent. to the 1st cent. BC. This period roughly coincides with the second building phase of the temple, while the aforementioned Archaic bronze inscriptions could be connected with the earlier phase.19 In this paper we present some new texts and we offer a preview of the whole material and its historical implications. Many inscribed fragments belong to proxeny decrees. A typical example is the decree for Καλλίστρατος, son of Καλλίας, from the neighbouring Arcadian city of Alipheira (inscription no. I). In addition to the decrees, the excavations brought to light fragments of proxeny lists (e.g. inscription no. III). As can be deduced from both the decrees and the lists, proxenoi of Phigaleia were citizens of the Arcadian cities Alipheira, Alea and Megalopolis, as well as of Aigion in Achaia, of Kephallenia, Byzantion, and Ephesos. These finds demonstrate the network of international ties and politico-economic relations that Phigaleia tried to build during the Hellenistic and early Roman periods, when the entire Peloponnese became the battleground of fierce geopolitical antagonisms.20 13 14 15

16 17 18 19 20

Arapogianni 1996a; 1996b; 1997a; 1997b; 1998a; 1998b. The stone inscriptions have been assigned to the authors of the present paper for publication. See also SEG XLVI 446; SEG XLVII 438, 442; SEG LI 511 E, 512; SEG LII 456, 458. Arapogianni 1997a, 44–45; Arapogianni 1997b, 116; Arapogianni 1998a, 52; Arapogianni 1998b, 128. See also SEG XLVII 443–445; SEG LI 511F; SEG LII 457D; SEG LII 459. SEG XLVIII 531. More stamped roof tiles from the area of ancient Phigaleia have been reported in SEG LXII 259. Arapogianni and Matthaiou, 2010–2013, 289–307. See also Arapogianni 1996a, 46; SEG XLVI 447; SEG XLVII 439; SEG LI 510; SEG LII 457D. Arapogianni 1997b, 117–118. See also SEG LI 511B; SEG LII 457C. SEG XLVII 439. For the building phases of the temple, see Arapogianni 1998b, 127; Arapogianni 2001, 302–304. For the proxeny networks of the Greek cities see more recently Mack 2015, 148–156.

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An important inscription is the fragmentary honorary decree for a citizen of Phigaleia, the son of a certain Prokleidas,21 whose first name has not been preserved (OM Λ1242). The text of the decree is followed by a letter sent by the League of the Lacedaemonians, whose proxenos the honorand was.22 In all probability, the fragmentary letter, which on paleographical grounds dates to the first cent. BC, refers to the inscribing of the proxeny decree on a stele inside the city of Phigaleia. Although a number of decrees of Laconian cities which were members of the League are preserved, the League itself is named only in very few of them. So far it has been attested in two honorary decrees from the temple of Poseidon at Tainaron in Laconia (IG V.1 1226; IG V.1 1227 = ΕΜ 8904) as well as in an honorary decree from the Laconian city of Geronthrae (IG V.1 1111) for two Euboean dikastai (judges) that represented Geronthrae in a dispute before the League. It is also mentioned on some coins, which Grunauer von Hoerschelmann believes were minted by Sparta on behalf of the League.23 Most importantly, the new inscription, whose study is in process, provides tangible proofs for the existence of interstate relations involving the League of the Lacedaimonians outside the boundaries of Laconia.24 Among the honorary decrees, a very important text is the unpublished decree for Ἀριστοβώλα, a hitherto unknown woman. The fragmentary text, which is in the Arcadian dialect, preserves some of the privileges bestowed on Aristobola, such as the right to trade in the territory of Phigaleia: ll. 11–13: εἰ πωλῆσαι ἐµ Φια̣|[λείαι- - - - - τ]ας τιµας εἴ τι βόλο̣[ι]το ἀγοράζην ἐ|[κ τ]ᾶς πόλιος ἢ ἐκ τᾶς χώρ̣[α]ς. She was also granted security from commercial property foreclosures: ll. 13–17: εἶναι δὲ ἀσφά|λ̣ ιαν ἐµ Φιαλείαι Ἀριστοβώλαι καὶ ὧι Ἀ|ριστοβώλα ἀποστέλλη ἀπὸ ῥυ̣ ̣σίω̣̣ ν καὶ ἀ|πὸ τῶν ἄλλων πάντων καὶ ἐµ πο̣[λ]έµωι | καὶ ἐν εἰράναι. The decree proves once again the elevated status of certain women during the Hellenistic period and gives a sense of the degree of their participation in the public life of Greek cities; Aristobola could even engage in commercial activities.25 Women were honored not only for undertaking religious offices and

21 22 23 24 25

The name Προκλείδας is attested in Phigaleia from the fourth century BC, cf. Te Riele 1966, no. 1= SEG XXIII 240. A certain Προκλείδας, son of Ἀρίστων, is known from a Phigaleian decree of the second century BC (IG V.2 420). Arapogianni 1997a, 44; Arapogianni 1997b, 116; Arapogianni 2001, 304. Grunauer von Hoerschelmann 1978, Gruppe XXIII, XXIV, taf. 18. As per Martin 1983, 446, 453, so far we have known “absolutely nothing about the league’s foreign relations, if any were allowed to exist”. For other inscriptions showing contacts with cities outside Laconia, see Kennell 1999, 198: IG V.1, 931, 1111, 1145. On this subject, see Van Bremen 1996; Stavrianopoulou 2006.

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their burdens but also for accepting various liturgies,26 or contributing towards the restoration of buildings27 etc. They are also attested as lenders of money to cities.28 Decrees also bestow honors on female artists such as Syll.3 532 from Lamia for the poetess Ἀριστοδάµα Ἀµύντα of Smyrna, who was granted προξενία and the privileges of πολιτεία, γᾶς καὶ οἰκίας ἔγκτησις, ἐπινοµία, ἀσφάλεια, and ἀσυλία. One final example of an important epigraphic discovery is the upper part of the honorific decree for Ἄρχιππος, son of Ἀγαλλῆς, who was most probably a citizen of Phigaleia, as can be inferred from the absence of an ethnic (inscription no. II). The extant text preserves some of the reasons for the honors bestowed on him: Archippos had proved himself useful and serviceable in times of civic needs without hesitation. He had also been appointed as public advocate (syndikos) to defend his city’s interests in disputes,29 one of which probably involved the neighboring city of Lepreon, as indicated by the preserved words in the last lines of the fragmentary inscription. 1

The Inscriptions30

I. Inscribed stele of local limestone consisting of two fragments (Λ1243+Λ1239), which we managed to join in the course of our study (fig. 6.1). Preserved height: 0.35 m.; preserved width: 0.28 m.; thickness: 0.8 m.; letter height: 0.006–0.015 m. [Ο, Ε] 3rd c. BC.

5

26 27 28 29 30

Θεός· ἔδοξε τᾶι πόλι τῶν Φιαλέων Kαλλίστρατον Kαλλίαυ Ἀλιφειρέα πρόξενον [ε]ἶν̣̣ αι καὶ εὐεργέταν τᾶς [πόλιος τῶ]ν̣ Φιαλέων αὐτὸν [καὶ ἐκγόνου]ς· εἶναι δ᾽ αὐτῶι [ἔγκτησι]ν γᾶς καὶ ο[ἰκ]ί[ας] [καὶ ἰσοπ]ολιτείαν καὶ ἐ[πιν][οµίαν κ]αὶ ἐν πολέµοι κ[αὶ] Cf. IG V.2 265: Νικίππα Πασία and IG V.2 266: Φαηνὰ ∆αµατρίου, both from Mantineia. Cf. IG XII.7, 49: Θεοδοσία Φιλίππου from Amorgos. Cf. IG VII 3172: Νικαρέτα from Thespiai. For the σύνδικοι see Andriolo 2002; Fournier 2007. The dates we propose for this and the following inscriptions are primarily based on letter forms. They are secondarily supported by other evidence, if available.

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Figure 6.1 Inscription no. I: Proxeny decree for Kallistratos of Alipheira PHOTO BY AUTHORS

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[ἐν εἰρά]ναι καὶ αὐτοῖς κ[αὶ] [χρήµα]σι, καὶ ἀτέλειαν̣ [π][άντων κατ]ὰ τὸν νόµον ἐ[̣ πὶ] [δαµιοργο]ῖς τοῖς περὶ [- -] [- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -]

According to the inscription, Kallistratos of the neighboring Alipheira and his descendants were granted proxenia and some of the typical privileges, including the right to own land and dwellings, the right to pasture animals in the territory of Phigaleia, citizenship rights, and exemption from taxes and other duties. 2–3 Kαλλίστρατον Kαλ|λίαυ Ἀλιφειρέα; the honorand is not attested elsewhere. A Kallistratos, unfortunately of unknown patronym, is attested in a decree from Alipheira of the third century BC (SEG XXV 448). He may be the same man as the honorand, or a relative. 8–9 For the restoration καὶ ἐ[πιν|οµίαν], see IG V.2 11 (Tegea), ll. 6–12: κ|αὶ εἶναι αὐτῶι ὡς εὐεργέτηι | ὄντι ἰσοπολιτείαν καὶ ἔµπα|σιν οἰκίας καὶ γῆς, ἐπινοµία|ν, ἀσυλίαν, ἀτέλειαν, ἀσφάλει|αν καὶ ἐµ πολέµωι καὶ ἐν εἰρή|νηι καὶ αὐτῶι καὶ γένει. The term also occurs in two unpublished fragmentary decrees from the same excavation (Λ 1220 και Λ 1142). Grants of pasture rights in public lands are perfectly at home in a mountainous area such as Phigaleia.31 10–11 αὐτοῖς κ[αὶ] | [χρήµα]σι; For the restoration see, exempli gratia, IG V.2 389, ll. 6–9 (Lousoi): καὶ ἀσφά|λειαν αὐτοῖς εἶµεν καὶ π|ολέµου καὶ εἰράνας καὶ χ|ρήµ[ασι]; SEG XXX 355, ll. 9–10 (Argos): καὶ ἀτέλειαν καὶ ἀσυλίαν ἦµεν | αὐτοῖς καὶ χρήµασι. In both cases αὐτοῖς refers to the honorand and his descendants. 13 [δαµιοργο]ῖς. The restoration is based on another, unpublished, fragmentary decree from the same excavation (Λ 1220). The office of the damiourgoi was already known in Phigaleia from the votive inscription IG V.2 423. II. Four joining fragments from the upper part of a stele of local limestone (OM Λ1241+1146),32 which is only broken at the bottom (fig. 6.2). The stele is now on display in the Museum of Pyrgos. Preserved height 0.25 m.; width 0.48 m.; thickness: 0.075–0.083 m.; letter height: 0.12–0.13 m. [Ο, Ι]. 31 32

On pasture rights (ἐπινοµία). see Chandezon 2003, 351–389. The three fragments of the inscription had already been joined to each other during the excavation (Λ 1241), while the fourth fragment (Λ 1146) at the right was joined as a result of our autopsy of the epigraphical material.

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Figure 6.2 Inscription no. II: Honorary decree for Archippos of Phigaleia PHOTO BY AUTHORS

End of 2nd/beginning of 1st c. BC.

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Ἐπεὶ Ἄρχιππος Ἀγαλλοῦ ἐµ πολ[λοῖ]ς ̣ [χ]ρήσ̣ [ι]µος γέγονε τᾶι πόλει διαφόρ̣[ως] τε εὐχρηστῶν ἐµ παντὶ καιρῶι εἰς π̣ [άσας] τ̣ᾶς πόλιος χρείας καὶ πλεονάκις ἀπ̣ ροφασίστως, κατα[σ]τ̣α̣θ̣ει̣ ς̣̀ δὲ καὶ σύνδικ̣ ος τᾶι πόλει ἐπὶ τὰς [δίκας καὶ τὰ]ς κρί[σει]ς, τάν τε πὸς τὰν τῶµ [- - - - - c.15 - - - - - καὶ] π̣ ὸς τὰν τῶν Λεπρεατᾶν [πόλιν - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -ἐπε]δείξατο [- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -]Ο̣ Ι̣Σ̣ [- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ]

1 The lower horizontal stroke and a part of the lower slanting stroke are preserved of the first dotted Σ. Of the second dotted Σ only the lower slanting stroke is preserved. 2 The upper part of the vertical stroke and the beginning of the circular part of the dotted Ρ is preserved. 3 The left edge of the horizontal stroke is preserved from the dotted Π. The very right edge of the horizontal stroke and the lower part of the vertical stroke are preserved from the dotted T. 5 In the beginning of the line the following traces are preserved: An upper horizontal stroke, the upper corner of two oblique strokes, the upper part of a

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circular letter, an upper horizontal stroke and the very upper edge of a vertical stroke. From the dotted K the slanting strokes are preserved. 7 The right end of the horizontal stroke of Π is preserved. 2

Commentary

1 Ἄρχιππος Ἀγαλλοῦ was already known from the base of a honorary monument of the 1st c. BC erected by the city of Phigaleia in Olympia (IvO 402). The same inscription preserves the name of his son, Φιλόθηρος, too. The name Ἄρχιππος is also attested as a patronym in another fragmentary honorary decree from the same excavation of the temple of Athena at Kourdoubouli (Λ 1240). 2–3 διαφόρ̣[ως] τε εὐχρη|στῶν. The restoration of the adverb διαφόρως as a modifier of the participle εὐχρηστῶν is suggested by the adverb ἀπροφασίστως in line 4, which is connected to διαφόρ̣[ως] with the conjuctions τε and καί. The meaning of the adverb is “in a distinguished, remarkable manner”.33 For the participle εὐχρηστῶν (“to be serviceable”), cf. IG II2 1304, l. 37; IG XII 4.1, 172, l. 6; IG XII Suppl. 171, l. 5. 5. σύνδικος; The election and appointment of Archippos as syndikos to defend the interests of his homeland was presumably an exceptional honor. 6–8. τὰν τε πος τὰν τῶµ | [- - - - - c.15 - - - - - - καὶ] π̣ ος τὰν τῶν Λεπρεατᾶν [πόλιν- -]. In line 7 we should probably restore the name of a polis by analogy with the phrase of π̣ ος τὰν τῶν Λεπρεατᾶν. The first article τὰν could be connected with the word δίκαν or κρίσιν. The letter Μ in the genitive article τῶµ suggests a city-name beginning with M (e.g. Μεσσανίων, Μεγαλοπολιτᾶν, Μακιστίων) or with a labial consonant. Although it would be tempting to associate Archippos’ activity with the arbitration between Lepreon and Alipheira (Orlandos 1967–68, p.15; SEG XXVII 44; Ager 1996 no. 82), the lettering does not appear to be compatible with this hypothesis. III. Local limestone fragment of a pillar or a pillar-shaped stele (Λ1152), probably from the temple, inscribed on two sides (figs. 6.3–6.4). Preserved height: 0.35 m; preserved width: 0.20 m.; thickness: 0.23 m.; letter height: 0.006 [omicron]—0.022 [sigma].

33

LSJ9 s.v. διάφορος no. 3.

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Figure 6.3 Inscription no. III: Proxeny list, side A PHOTO BY AUTHORS

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Figure 6.4 Inscription no. III: Proxeny list, side B PHOTO BY AUTHORS

Side A 3rd c. B.C. [- - - - - -] [- -]Λ̣ [- -] Σάτυρος Kλεονίκ[ου]. Ἐφέσιος· 5 Λυσίας Kρίτωνος. Ἀλιφε⟨ι⟩ρεύς· Eὐξίθεος Tιµωνίδαυ. vacat Side B Second half of 3rd c. B.C. [- - - - - ] Ἀχαιός· ∆αµοπείθης

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∆αµονίκου Aἰγιεύς. Kεφαλλᾶνες· ∆αµέας Σίµωνος, Ἀριστόδαµος Xαιριάνθεος, Ἀριστοµένης Mένητος. vacat

Α1 The lower part of two oblique strokes are preserved. Α7 ΑΛΙΦΕΥΡΕΥΣ lapis. 3

Commentary

The individuals recorded in this list are otherwise unattested. We believe that these men were proxenoi of Phigaleia.34 Although the proxenoi are arranged on the basis of their ethnics, i.e., proxenoi from the same polis are grouped together, variations in the lettering and its height suggest that both the grants and the actual recording of the names on the stone were not made at the same time.35 On side A, the name of Satyros, son of Kleonikos, has been carved in rather shallow but carefully made letters, and the entry might date to the early 3rd cent. BC. The following two entries point to a later date within the same century, yet they do not seem to be contemporaneous. The name of the Ephesian Lysias has been inscribed in smaller letters (L.H. 0.006–0.012 m.) than those for the Alipheirean Euxitheos (L.H. 0.007–0.017 m.). This last record and the records of side B could have been inscribed by the same cutter (although perhaps not at the same time). Even so, this stone-cutter was careless. The height of the letters on side B differs from line to line even within the same entry. For instance, the letter height of the first record (ll. 1–3) varies from 0.08 m. to 0.014 [O, A]. The name Aristodamos in l. 6 has been carved in letters varying from 0.01 to 0.022 m. [Ο, Σ], while the height of the letters of his patronym (l. 7) varies from 0.006 to 0.012 and even 0.017 m. [Ο, Α, Σ]. In other words, names and ethnics were added every time a new individual was appointed as proxenos. It is also likely that in certain cases the honor was granted to more than one 34 35

We do not believe that this is a list of mercenaries, since it would be absurd to find foreign professional soldiers in Arcadia, one of the most famous and prolific producers of mercenary troops of the ancient world. Lists of proxenies usually follow geographical (i.e. by the ethnic of proxenoi) or chronological order, see Marek 1984, 134–137; Mack 2011, 322.

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citizen, not only from the same city but also from different cities, by virtue of a single statute. Side A, 2–3 Σάτυρος | Kλεονίκ[ου]. Both names are very common, and the origin of this man cannot be established. Side A, 4–6 Ἐφέσιος· | Λυσίας | Kρίτωνος. This individual is not attested, but the name Κρίτων is known from Ephesos after the 3rd cent. BC.36 Side A, 7–9 Ἀλιφε⟨ι⟩ρεύς· | Eὐξίθεος | Tιµωνίδαυ. The ethnic is written as Ἀλιφευρεύς on the stone, whereas previously we knew of two other versions, namely Ἀλιφειρεύς and Ἀλιφηρεύς.37 We believe that the stone-cutter made a mistake, influenced by the Y of the ending. Side B, 1–3 Ἀχαιός· ∆αµοπείθης | ∆αµονίκου Αἰγιεύς. The use of the double ethnic can be interpreted in the context of the Achaian koinon.38 Side B, 4 Κεφαλλᾶνες. The use of the ethnic Kephallanes without specification of the polis of origin is also attested in other cases; see, e.g., the hieromnemones of Delphi Drakon (FD ΙΙΙ 2, 86 l. 11: ∆ράκοντος Κεφαλλᾶνος. FD ΙΙΙ 4, 127 l. 6: Κεφαλλάνων ∆ράκοντος) and Oinanthios (CID 4, 99 l. 7: Κεφαλλάνων Οἰνανθίου) of the years ca. 215–200 BC and ca. 200 BC respectively. See also I Rhod. Per. 471 l. 1: Ἀλεξάνδρου Κεφαλλᾶνος τειµαθέντος (1st. c. BC–1st c. AD). On the contrary, the polis of origin is specified in other inscriptions of approximately the same period: see FD III4, 362 l. 9: Ἀριστοδάµου Πρώννου (216/15 BC); IG IX 1, 276 l. 2–4: [ἔδω]καν ∆ικαιάρχωι Εὐίππου, Ἀφθονήτωι | [- - - - - -], Κεφαλλάνεσσι ἐκ Κρανίων | [αὐτοῖς καὶ ἐκγόνοις αὐ]τῶν προξενίαν (3rd/2nd c. BC); IG IX 1, 268 l. 2–3: ἔδωκαν [— — — Κεφαλλᾶνι ἐκ Κρα]|[ν]ίων αὐτῶι καὶ [ἐ]κγ[όνοις προξενίαν (Hellenistic). Side B, 6–7 Ἀριστόδαµος | Χαιριάνθεος. A certain Aristodamos from the Kephallenian city of Pronnoi served as hieromnemon at Delphi at some point in the decade 215–205 BC;39 he could be identified with the proxenos of Phigaleia. The name Χαιριάνθης is a hapax. As we have already mentioned, on the basis of the lettering, side B of the inscription can be dated to the 3rd c. BC, most probably in the second half of the century, when Phigaleia was under the influence of the Aitolians. The Phigaleians had established proxeny relations with the League of the Aitolians already in 272/1 BC (IG IX 12,1, 13VI). The latter also mediated ca. 240 BC in Phigaleia’s territorial conflict with Messene (IG V.2 419),40 in their effort to 36 37 38 39 40

LGPN V.A s. v. The types Ἀλιφειρεύς (Ἀλίφειρα) and Ἀλιφηρεύς (Ἀλίφηρα) are known from the lexicographers and other inscriptions: see Orlandos 1967–68, 9–12; Nielsen 2004, 509, no. 266. Rizakis 2012, with the earlier bibliography. FD III 4, 362 l.10. See also Ager 1996, no. 40; Grainger 1999, 126–127; Scholten 2000, 116, 122–123.

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extend their influence along the west coast of the Peloponnese.41 According to Polybius (4.3.6), in 221 BC Phigaleia was “συµπολιτευοµένη τοῖς Αἰτωλοῖς” when the Aitolians dispatched Dorimachos on the pretext of offering protection to the city, whereas the actual reason was the observation of Peloponnesian affairs (Pol. 4.3.5–7), especially in Messenia (Pol. 4.3–4.5). The Phigaleians revolted against the Aitolians in 219 BC and joined Philip V (Pol. 4.79.5–8), and later the Achaian League. In the context of the Aitolian influence over Phigaleia, the granting of a proxeny to an Achaian from the city of Aigion could be placed during the period of the alliance between the Achaian and the Aitolian Leagues, i.e. in the period 239–228 BC (Pol. 2.44 and Plut. Arat. 33.1). The grant of proxenia to the three Kephallenians could also be placed in the context of Phigaleia’s links with the Aitolian League. Kephallenia had a “growing friendship” with Aitolia:42 an Aitolian colony was planted in the territory of the Kephallenian city of Same (IG IX 121, 2) around 223/2 BC and an alliance between the island and the Aitolians in the 220s, most probably ca. 226 BC according to Walbank, is inferred from the text of Polybius (4.6.2 και 4.6.8).43 The Kephallenians remained allies of the Aitolians and followed them in their adventures against Macedon and its allies, as well as against the Romans.44 Thus, the placement of the new Phigaleian proxenoi list in the early years of the 220s’ is very tempting. IV. Right part of a rectangular base of local limestone (OM Λ1237). The original upper, lower and right sides are preserved (fig. 6.5). Height 0.13m.; preserved width 0.155 m.; thickness 0.155 m; letter height 0.025–0.01 m. [I, Ω]. End of 4th cent. BC. [- - - ∆ιὶ] Π̣ ατρώιῳ. Of the dotted Π the right short vertical is preserved.

41 42 43 44

Larsen 1968, 206; Sholten 2000, 195. Grainger 1999, 250. Walbank 1940, 25 note 3. For the alliance, which provided to the Aitolian League the valuable naval forces of the Kephallenians, see also Larsen 1968, 206–207; Souris 1976, 111–113; Sholten 2000, 194–195. Souris 1976, 115–123.

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Figure 6.5 Inscription no. IV: Dedication to Zeus PHOTO BY AUTHORS

4

Commentary

The cutter omitted the adscript Ι of the dative, but the omission is not rare in votive inscriptions.45 Despite the fact that πατρώιος is a common epithet of many deities, such as Poseidon or Apollo, the mere fact that the base was found near the altar of Athena and Zeus allows us to infer, with a great degree of certainty, that in this specific case the epithet applies to Zeus. Athanassios Themos ([email protected]) Eleni Zavvou ([email protected]) Epigraphic Museum of Athens Abbreviations ΕΜ OM 45

Epigraphic Museum Olympia Museum Cf. Buck 1955, 35–36 §38. For other examples see Dunst 1972, 141–142; Gallavoti 1976, 212– 215; Phaklaris 1987, 115 and note 40.

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EAH Ἔργον Ἀρχαιολογικῆς Ἑταιρείας PAAH Πρακτικὰ τῆς ἐν Ἀθήναις Ἀρχαιολογικῆς Ἑταιρείας Bibliography Ager, S. 1996, Interstate Arbitrations in the Greek World, 337–90 B.C. Berkeley. Andriolo, N. 2002, “Syndikoi”, DHA 28 (2002) 11–18. Arapogianni, X. 1996a, “Φιγάλεια”, EAH 41–47. Arapogianni, X. 1996b, “Ἀνασκαφὴ στὴ Φιγάλεια”, PAAH 129–137. Arapogianni, X., 1997a, “Φιγάλεια”, EAH 43–49. Arapogianni, X. 1997b, “Ἀνασκαφὴ στὴ Φιγάλεια”, PAAH 115–120. Arapogianni, X. 1998a, “Φιγάλεια”, EAH 51–53. Arapogianni, X. 1998b, “Ἀνασκαφὴ στὴ Φιγάλεια”, PAAH 127–128. Arapogianni, X. 2001, “Ανασκαφές στη Φιγάλεια”, in V. Mitsopoulos-Leon (ed.), Forschungen in der Peloponnes, Akten des Symposions anläßlich der Feier “100 Jahre Österreichisches Archäologisches Institut Athen” Athen 5.3.-7.3.1998 (Österreichisches Archäologisches Institut Sonderschriften Band 38), Athens 2001, 299–305. Arapogianni, X. 2002, Ο ναός του Επικουρείου Απόλλωνος Βασσών, Athens. Arapogianni, X. and Matthaiou, A.P. 2010–2013, “Ἀπελευθερωτικὴ ἐπιγραφὴ Φιγαλείας”, Ηoros 22–25, 289–307. Buck, C.D. 1955, The Greek Dialects, Chicago and London. Chandezon, C. 2003, L’ élevage en Grèce ( fin Ve-fin Ier s. a. C.). L’ apport des sources épigraphiques, Paris. Cooper, F.A. and Myers, J.W. 1981, “Reconnaissance of a Greek Mountain City”, JFA 8, 123–134. Dunst, G. 1972, “Archaische Inscriften und Dokumente der Pentekontaetie aus Samos”, AM 87, 99–163. Fournier, J. 2007, “Les syndikoi, représentants juridiques des cités grecques sous le Haut-Empire romain”, CCG 18, 7–36. Gallavoti, C. 1976, “I Due incunaboli di atene e Pitecusa ed altre epigrafi arcaiche”, Atti della Αccademia Nazionale dei Lincei, Rendiconti, 31, 212–215. Grainger, J.D. 1999, The League of the Aitolians, Leiden and Boston. Grunauer von Hoerschelmann, S. 1978, Die Münzprägung der Lakedaimonier, Berlin 1978. Heine Nielsen T. 2004, “Arkadia”, in M.H. Hansen and T. Heine Nielsen, An Inventory of Archaic and Classical Poleis, Oxford 2004, 505–539. Jost, M. 1985, Sanctuaires et cultes d’ Arcadie, Paris 1985. Larsen, J.A.O. 1968, Greek Federal States. Their Institutions and History. Oxford. Mack, W. 2011, “The proxeny lists of Karthaia”, REA 113 (2011) 319–344.

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Mack, W. 2015, Proxeny and polis. Institutional Networks in the Ancient Greek World, Oxford. Marek, C. 1984, Die Proxenie, Frankfurt am Main. Martin, D.G., 1983, Greek leagues in the Later Second and First Centuries B.C., Ann Arbor, University microfilms. Orlandos, A. 1927/28, “Ἡ κρήνη τῆς Φιγαλείας”, Arch. Delt. 11, 1–7. Orlandos, A. 1967–68, Ἡ Ἀρκαδική Ἀλίφειρα καὶ τὰ µνηµεῖα της, Athens. Phaklaris, P. 1987, “H µάχη της Θυρέας (546 π.X.)”, Horos 5, 101–119. Rizakis, A. 2012, “Le double citoyenneté dans le cadre des koina grecs : l’exemple du koinon achéen”, in A. Heller and A.-V. Pont (edd.), Patrie d’origine et patries électives : les citoyennetés multiples dans le monde grec d’époque romaine (Actes du colloque international de Tours 6–7 novembre 2009), Paris, 23–38. Souris, G.A. 1976, “Ἡ σηµασία τῆς Κεφαλλωνιᾶς γιὰ τὰ Ἑλληνιστικὰ κράτη καὶ τὴ Ρώµη. « Ὁρµητήριον εὐφυές », Πολύβ. 5.3.8”, Kephalleniaka Chronika 1, 111–123. Sholten, J.B. 2000, The Politics of Plunder. Aitolians and their Koinon in the Early Hellenistic Era, 279–217 BC Berkeley-Los Angeles-London. Stavrianopoulou, E. 2006, “Gruppenbild mit Dame”. Untersuchungen zur rechtlichen und sozialen Stellung der Frau auf den Kykladen im Hellenismus und in der römischen Kaiserzeit, Stuttgart. Te Riele, G.-J., 1966, “Inscriptions de Pavlitsa,” BCH 90, 248–273. Van Bremen, R., 1996, The Limits of Participation. Women and Civic Life in the Greek East in the Hellenistic and Roman Periods, Amsterdam. Yalouris, N., 1979, “Problems Relating to the Temple of Apollo Epikourios at Bassai”, in J.N. Coldstream and M. Colledge (eds.), Greece and Italy in the Classical World. Acta of the XI International Congress of Classical Archaeology, London, 89–104. Walbank, F.W. 1940, Philip V of Macedon, Cambridge.

Chapter 7

The horologion of Dexippos: A Fresh Insight into Hellenistic Lemnos Francesca Rocca

Università degli Studi di Torino

To my sister Angela

⸪ Upon discovering the liaison amoureuse between Ares and Aphrodite, Hephaistus went to Lemnos, the “well-built citadel,” which, in his eyes, was the dearest of all lands.1 This well-known Homeric vignette vividly emphasizes the importance of Lemnos, often considered to have been a crucial junction in the Aegean Sea. Of course, the Athenians were always fully aware of the island’s importance. Ever since Miltiades arrived on Lemnos at the very beginning of the fifth century BCE, Athens had kept a watchful eye on this fertile territory.2 Later in the same century the Athenians established a firm presence on the island, as our sources well demonstrate. Large groups of Athenians settled on the island, reproducing institutions and customs they were familiar with back home.3 The bond between the motherland and its cleruchy was soon widely recognised: even during the last phases of the Peloponnesian war, when Athenian defeat seemed inevitable, Spartan peace offers granted Athens complete control of her possessions, namely Attica and the three cleruchies (Lemnos,

1 Hom. Od. 8, 270–285, esp. 283–284, εἴσατ᾽ ἴµεν ἐς Λῆµνον, ἐυκτίµενον πτολίεθρον,ἥ οἱ γαιάων πολὺ φιλτάτη ἐστὶν ἁπασέων; English translation by A.T. Murray (Loeb Edition, 1995). 2 On the conquest of Miltiades, see mainly Hdt. 6.136–140 (also Hdt. 6.34–41 and 5.26–27). This is what Figueira calls the “patronal colonisation” (see Figueira 2008: 429). On the retreat of Miltiades at the Persians’ arrival, see Hdt. 6.41 and 104. 3 Marchiandi 2002 [2003]: 487–583; 2008 [2010]: 11–38; 2010 [2012]: 221–36; Culasso Gastaldi 2010 [2012]: 347–64; 2011: 113–146. For a different assessment of the available sources, see also Clinton 2014: 327–339.

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Imbros, and Skyros).4 Each negotiation, however, was rebuffed, and with her final defeat in 404 BCE, Athens lost Lemnos—but it was only a temporary loss: as soon as the polis could sail the seas again, the island (together with Imbros and Skyros) was reacquired. Already in 392 BCE, Andokides referred to the cleruchies as part of the territory always possessed by the Athenians.5 Andocides’ statement reflected a common perception: Artaxerxes’ edict of 387/6 BCE officially granted Lemnos, Imbros, and Skyros to Athens, “as it was in the past.”6 From that precise moment, Athens set about reorganising the cleruchy, along the lines of the previous settlement. Her possession of the three islands was firm and endured, with few interruptions, throughout the 4th century BCE.7 Athens succeeded in keeping Lemnos, Imbros, and Skyros even after the defeat at Chaeronea and the debacle that occurred in the Lamian war in 322 BCE.8 The island, together with its motherland, was involved in the political struggles between Cassander and the Antigonids, supporting the latter; when the Macedonian dynasty was defeated at the battle of Ipsos, Lemnos fell under the control of Lysimachus.9 The history of the island during the third century BCE is rather blurred. According to Fredrich, Athens lost the three islands from 303/2 until 281 BCE; only at that date did Seleucus I give them back to Athens.10 We do not know what happened afterwards and how long Athens managed to maintain its control over Lemnos, despite the continuous intervention of the Macedonians.11 We can only be sure that the island, together with Delos and arguably Imbros and Skyros, became an Attic settlement again in 167/6 BCE, after the conclusion of the third Macedonian war and the defeat of Perseus at Pydna.12 It is generally believed that the Athenians stayed on Lemnos until the first centuries CE, when the Romans imposed their presence, but as we will see, the relevant sources are rather scanty.13 Among these sources, a corpus of 1st century BCE 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Aeschin. 2.76 (De falsa leg.). Andoc. 3 (De pace), 12. Xen. Hell. 5.1.31. For the fourth century settlement, see Cargill 1995. Dem. 18.285 (De cor.); Diod. Sic. 16.87. See Habicht 2006: 55–84. Diod. Sic. 19.68.3–4. On the events, see Landucci Gattinoni 1992: 187–197; Franco 1993: 156–159. For the main sources on this complex period and related debates, see Culasso Gastaldi 2010 [2012]: 351 n. 22. Fredrich in IG XII 8: 3–4. See Ficuciello 2013: 314–315 for the chronology of these events. Polyb. 30.20–21, where only Lemnos and Delos are mentioned. On the possibility that Imbros and Skyros were also returned to Athens, see Fredrich in IG XII 8:4. See also Vitr. De arch. 7.2. For Delos, see I.Délos 2589, and for Lemnos, IG II² 1224 (= ISE III 133). Ficuciello 2013: 341–42.

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manumission inscriptions found in the main sanctuary of the island, namely the Kabirion, surely deserves to be mentioned.14 It is another artifact, however, one apparently of the first century BCE, that will be the focus of this essay (fig. 7.1); upon close inspection, it turns out to be of great interest for numerous reasons. The inscription: Accame 1941/3 [1948]no. 17 = MMyrina X 21

5

∆έξιππος Παγχάρου Παιανιεὺς γενόµενος κοσµητὴς [Θ]ε̣οῖς Μεγάλοις τὸ ὡρολόγιον ἀ̣[νέθηκεν].

6. [Θε]οῖς Accame. ||8. We can discern a little serif at the very left. It is the upper part of a letter, which we could not identify with certainty. However, the best solution would be to restore the verb ἀνατίθηµι in the form ἀνέθηκεν, as already suggested by Accame. Translation: Dexippos, son of Panchares of the deme of Paiania, having been appointed kosmetes, dedicated the sundial to the Great Gods. The monument is a small base, made of marble and adorned with a little protruding cornice.15 The left corner was initially broken, but was reattached at the time of discovery. It was found in the 1930s in the sanctuary of the Kabeiroi, at the north west door of the Roman Telesterion.16 The inscription runs across the front. The content of the inscription is not unusual: it records the dedication of a horologion made by an Athenian citizen called Dexippos, son of Panchares, 14 15 16

Accame 1941/3 [1948]: nr. 14–16; Beschi 1996/7 [2000]: nr. 25; for a new reading, see Rocca 2010 [2012]: 289–308. New fragments are now presented in Rocca 2014: 145–64. Measures: 0.075 x 0.068 m. Beschi 1996/7 [2000]: 40 no. 17. The findspot was reported by Bernabò Brea at page 101 of his excavation journal for the year 1937. The results of the excavation are now summarized in Ficuciello 2013, with the earlier bibliography. Specifically, on the Archaic telesterion, see Ficuciello 2013: 116–18 and 164–68; on the Classical sanctuary: ibid 242–49; on the Hellenistic sanctuary: ibid 322–30; on the Roman and Byzantine periods: ibid 352–55. See also Leone 2010 [2012]: 271–80.

The horologion of Dexippos

Figure 7.1 The horologion of Dexippos; Accame 1941/3 nr. 17 = MMyrina X21 PHOTO BY AUTHOR

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who identifies himself as the kosmetes in charge. Unfortunately, Dexippos is otherwise absent from Attic prosopography, and therefore we have no real information about him or his family.17 As a consequence, the date of the inscription can only be established paleographically.18 Accame suggested the first century BCE.19 Alpha has a broken crossbar; xi lacks the central vertical stroke and the central horizontal is shorter than the other two; the second vertical stroke of pi is shorter than the first and the horizontal stroke extends beyond the verticals; omicron tends to be smaller than the other letters. We also note the v-shaped serifs. These features recall the very end of the Hellenistic period or even the beginning of the Imperial era. Therefore, Accame’s chronology should be accepted.20 The first editor devoted only a few lines of commentary to the document, arguing that this was an offering of an Athenian who, despite his title of kosmetes, had nothing to do with the ephebes and gymnasia. In his opinion, Dexippos’ responsibilities were instead connected with the ritual dressing of cult statues.21 This identification is certainly plausible, since it is based on parallels, but it would be odd to find it at Lemnos, an island-polity that had become a sort of ‘little Athens’ already in the fifth century BCE.22 And, as is well known, in Athens the title kosmetes immediately recalls the man in charge of the training and education of male adolescents.23 In fact, the comparanda for the kosmetes as an official responsible for adorning cult statues are quite scarce when put side by side with the thousands of kosmetai in attendance in

17 18 19 20 21

22

23

PAA 303787. The letters are quite big (0.01–0.016 m) and deeply cut. Accame 1941/3 [1948]: 99. Guarducci EG I: 368–390; for some similarities in the letter forms, see also Tracy 1990: 197–200 and mainly fig. 32 = IG II² 1009, dated to the early 1st century BCE. Accame 1941/4 [1948]: 100. This interpretation is still endorsed by Chankowski 2010: 178– 79. I should like to note the intuition of Pelekides 1965: 105, who recognized the position of Lemnos as an Athenian cleruchy. Hence, he argued that the office of kosmetes, the man responsible of the ephebes, was attested on the island in the first century BCE, citing this inscription as supporting evidence. For the juridical condition of the island in the fifth century BCE, see Marchiandi 2008 [2010]: 11–39. The author firmly states: “Nel complesso, le evidenze risultano molto coerenti nel restituire nitidamente il quadro di un pezzo di Attica transmarino, occupato da Ateniesi optimo iure e controllato fermamente dal centro mediante una struttura istituzionale, economica e insediativa ricalcata su quella della madrepatria.” See also Culasso 2010 [2012]: 347–64. Rhodes 1993, 504–5. On the kosmetes, see Pelekides 1965: 104–6 and a brief note also in Chankowski 2010: 178–79; see also Culasso Gastaldi 2009: 115–42. On the ephebic training, see also Knoepfler 2015: 59–104, with a detailed bibliographic overview.

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the Athenian gymnasia.24 Now, it is worth underlining once more that firstcentury BCE Lemnos seems to have maintained the same relationship with Athens that can be tracked across the previous centuries.25 Lemnos of the second and first centuries BCE still worked as a part of Attica outside of Attica. All in all, we should focus on the Athenian meaning of the title kosmetes: this was the official who, supported by the gymnasiarch, acted as the chief of the ephebes.26 We must first take into account the consecrated item, namely a horologion. Sundials are attested from the 4th century BCE to the 4th/5th centuries CE, but were particularly popular in the late Hellenistic and Roman periods. They are found everywhere, including the furthest frontiers of the Greek world and in every province of the Roman Empire. Hundreds of ancient dials with very different sizes and shapes survive;27 as long ago as 1976, Sharon Gibbs was able to count c. 256 items and now this number has nearly doubled.28 Judging from their large number and wide distribution, sundials must have been considered helpful and pleasant to behold. On the one hand, they indicated the hours of the day and could also work as simple calendars.29 On the other hand, dials were also eye-catching decorated objects, usually carved in marble blocks, adorned with ornamental elements on the base, and sometimes even enriched by inscriptions. Such artifacts were definitely worthy of being displayed in the main public spaces of cities, in gardens, and in private houses. And, of course, they were also considered valuable and appropriate offerings for divinities. The horologion of Dexippos fits these characteristics perfectly in that it was dedicated by a kosmetes as a gift for the Great Gods. There is another Greek

24

25 26 27 28

29

At Athens, a kosmetes τῶν θεῶν διὰ βίου is mentioned in IG II² 3683 (3rd century CE). The same office is attested in Delos in the 4th century BCE (IG XI 2.144). For Egypt, see Wilcken 1885: 433–34: III l. 3, with 461 for a commentary on the title kosmetes. The main sources are also collected in NP s.v. kosmetes. Kallet Marx and Stroud 1997: 186–91. On the office of the gymnasiarch at Athens, see Culasso Gastaldi 2009: 115–42. See Gibbs 1976: 12–58; Schaldach 2006: 29–40; Hannah 2009: 68–83 and 116–25; Houston 2015: 298–313. K. Schaldach has already proposed the creation of an online corpus of Greek and Roman sundials. More recently, E. Winter 2013 collected some 500 chronometric instruments and their inscriptions from all over the classical world. It is also worth remembering that a huge project on ancient sundials is underway at the University of Berlin, with other affiliated institutions (http://www.ancient-astronomy.org/2013/05/03/antike-sonnenuhren/). For the functions of the sundials, see Hannah 2009: 68–116; Houston 2015: 298–313.

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example of a sundial offered to these deities (who are specified in the text), found in Athens and dating to the Imperial Period.30 Before considering the Kabeiroi and their role, I would like to focus on the responsibilities of Dexippos, who was, I contend, a kosmetes of the ephebes. The connection between gymnasia and horologia is far from inconceivable. Sundials were primarily used to indicate the time. Aeschines ascribes a law to Solon which stated that the gymnasia in Athens was to be open from sunrise until sunset.31 Sundials could also have been useful to regulate the duration of different activities.32 As a consequence, sundials were present in gymnasia more often than not. Delos provides several examples. One inventory from 156/5 BCE, for example, explicitly mentions a horologion on a column among the objects which decorated the exedra and the corners of the gymnasium.33 The same inscription also records another little sundial with a triton perched on it in the sphairistra.34 From an inscription of the first century BCE, we know that there was also a sundial in the gymnasium at Pergamon.35 Finally, two peculiar sundials were found in Ai-Khanoum, Afghanistan. They are of interest for numerous reasons, but for our purposes, I would like to note that they were found inside the gymnasium of a city that was located at the furthest borders of the Hellenistic World.36 Therefore, it is hardly surprising that a kosmetes, namely the magistrate in charge of the ephebes, decided to dedicate a horologion. We may also assume 30 31 32

33

34 35 36

Schaldach 2006: no. 10 = IG II² 5216 (EM 2922). Aeschin. 1.10 (In Tim.). Striclty speaking, Aeschines refers to palaistrai, but of course a palaistra was an indispensable section of a gymnasium. For the regulation of the different activities inside the gymnasium, see the so-called “gymnasiarch law of Beroia,” (SEG XXVII 261), published by Gauthier and Hatzopoulos in 1993. The text from Beroia makes it clear that age was the main criterion dividing different users of the gymnasium (Gauthier and Hatzopoulos 1993: 68–78). Nevertheless the sundial could have been useful to indicate training hours for the different categories of participants. I.Délos 1417 l. 149. See also I.Délos 1412 l. 23; I.Délos1423, fr. a col. II l. 5. The horologion mentioned in the inscription was associated with a sundial found in the gymnasium (B4367) at the beginning of the nineteenth century by Plassart 1912: 393–94 no.8 and Audiat 1930: 128. Moretti has now confirmed their interpretation with new arguments (Moretti 1997: 135–36). The column where the sundial is held is inscribed; it was dedicated by a gymnasiarch in honor of Apollo and Hermes (IG XI 4 1154). For a new consideration of the evidence, see Moretti 1996: 617–38. I.Délos 1417 ll. 140–141. Deonna 1938: 192 and Salviat 1994: 189–200 used to identify this horologion with the sundial B4367, but this seems less plausible after the considerations presented by Moretti 1997: 135–37. IGR IV 293. Veuve 1982: 23–51.

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that the object in question would have been placed on top of the inscribed base. Surely, this small dedication would have been suitable for the main venue of ephebic training. However, we cannot gloss over the fact that the inscription records an offering to the Great Gods and was found in the Kabirion. Why? The gods called “Kabeiroi” represent one of the thorniest problems in the study of Greek religion. Most of the relevant testimonies are more confusing than helpful. The origin of the Kabeiroi, their genealogy, and even their names remain to a large extent uncertain. Mysteries certainly took place in their sanctuaries, but sources are unanimous in keeping their content secret.37 One thing seems certain: Lemnos, together with its twin cleruchy, Imbros, was widely recognized as one of the main sites for the worship of the Kabeiroi.38 Herodotus states that the cult was born there in pre-Hellenic times and was later assimilated to Greek religious practices by the Athenians.39 On Lemnos there is at least one imposing structure that can be associated with their cult, the so-called Telesterion.40 On Imbros, an extra-urban sanctuary of Kabeiroi has been identified at Roxado.41Still, the epigraphic material from these two sanctuaries poses some problems inasmuch as most of the inscribed documents refer not to the Kabeiroi, as one would expect, but rather to the Great Gods. This designation was also used for the gods of Samothrace, whose sanctuary was visited by numerous visitors eager to participate in the famous local Mysteries.42 Our evidence connects these deities with metallurgy; suggests a strong connection with wine and fertility; and highlights their protective role in dangerous situations, which made them particularly popular with sailors and soldiers,

37 38 39 40 41 42

The bibliography about these deities is important and quite heterogeneous. The monograph of Hemberg 1950 is still unparalleled; for a valuable update, see Cruccas 2014, who collects the main relevant literature. On the rituals, see also Bremmer 2014. See Strabo 10.3.21. For the ceremony on Lemnos, see Cruccas 2014: 88–102; for a more exhaustive commentary, see Beschi 1996/7 [2000]: 7–145. For Imbros, see Cruccas 2014: 177–79. Hdt. 2.51.2; 2.52.1. Beschi 2000: 74–84; 2003: 963–1022; 2004: 225–341; Leone 2010 [2012]: 271–80; Ficuciello 2013: 116–18, 164–68, 242–49, 322–30, 352–55. See Rhul 2010 [2012]: 455–68. On the Great Gods, see, inter alios, Cole 1984: mainly 1–5 and 26–38; Musti 2001: 141–54; Mari 2001: 155–67; Bremmer 2014: 22–36. For a collection of sources related to the mysteries on Samothrace, see also Scarpi 2002: 5–99. For the sanctuary, see Cole 1984: 10–25 and Lehmann 1998.

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especially during the Hellenistic period.43 Subsequently, they also became part of the ephebic world, something that sheds light on our text. The first piece of evidence I consider comes from Athens. In the Athenian collective memory, the epoch-making naval victory at Salamis was attributable to divine favor.44 Inscriptions dating from the end of the 4th century BCE to the 3rd century CE attest to the ceremony performed by the ephebes, which involved a race with torches and a ritual naumachia.45 Despite the large number of relevant sources, I would like to focus on one text that describes the ephebes sacrificing to the Great Gods. The inscription dates to 116/5 BCE.46 It indicates that the ephebes first sailed around the harbor of Mounychia on sacred boats, and then moved toward Salamis to challenge the inhabitants in a running race. Afterward they reached Cynosura, on the extreme east of the island, where the tropaion of the victory was located.47 There they sacrificed to several deities, including the Great Gods, because of their role protecting sailors and because they were the first to discover the art of navigation.48 This document provides an example of the relationship between ephebes, gymnasia, and the Great Gods, but the best clues are offered by two texts from Pergamon.49 From an honorary decree, we may infer that the Mysteries of the Kabeiroi were performed on the Acropolis, probably during the festival of the Kabiria.50 The decree, dated to around 130 BCE, shows that the Kabirion was closely associated with the gymnasium, because the gymnasiarch was honoured for sponsoring a particularly opulent banquet for the festival. Another honorary decree, this time for Diodoros Pasparos, a well-known inhabitant of 43

44 45 46 47 48

49 50

Daumas 1998: 254–261 for the connection with “le monde des armes”. Chaniotis 2005: 143– 165 and especially 153–154 for some examples of soldiers who were initiated to the cult of the Great Gods of Samothrace. See also Cruccas 2014: 51–59 for a collection of sources linked with the functions of the Gods. On the memory of war, see Chaniotis 2005: 214–244 and especially 239–240 on Salamis. On the battlefield trophy, see Pritchett 1974: 246–275. See Viscardi 2010: 36–38 for the ephebic inscriptions which mention the ritual connected with the memory of the Salaminian war. IG II² 1009+2456+2457+ Meritt 1946: 213–14 no. 42+ Meritt 1947: 170–72 no. 67. A new edition of the text is provided by Perrin-Saminadayar 2007: 222–229 T30 (with French translation). Meritt 1947: 170–72 no. 67, ll. 22–23 (Perrin-Saminadayar 2007: T30, ll. 22–23): ἐποιήσαντο δὲ καὶ τ[ὸν] | εἰς Σαλαµῖνα πλοῦν ἐπὶ τὸν ἀγῶνα τῶν Αἰαντείων καὶ ἔθυσα̣ν̣ [ἐπὶ τ]οῦ τρο[παίου]. Meritt 1947: 170–72 no. 67, ll. 21–22 (Perrin-Saminadayar 2007: T30, ll. 21–22): ἔθυσαν δὲ καὶ τοῖς Μεγάλοις Θεοῖς καὶ τῆι Ἀρτέµιδι τῆι Μουνυχ[ίαι] καὶ τῶι ∆ιὶ τῶι Σωτῆρι καὶ τεῖ Ἀθηνᾶι. For the Great Gods as protectors of the navigation, see Philon of Byblos, FGrH 790 F2.14: ∆ιόσκουροι ἢ Κάβειροι ἢ Κορύβαντες ἢ Σαµοθρᾶικες· οὗτοι (φησί) πρῶτοι πλοῖον εὗρον. I.Pergamon II 252 and IGR IV 294. I.Pergamon II 252 l. 26. On the Mysteries, see Paus. 1.4.6; Aristid. Or. 40.3.

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Pergamon active during the Mithridatic Wars, attests to the initiation of the ephebes into the Mysteries in accordance with ancestral tradition.51 The gymnasiarch was honoured because he bore all the costs of the ceremony himself. One might also note the ritual called the Kriobolia, in which the ephebes chased and caught a ram.52 Hemberg, the author of a superb work on the Kabeiroi, emphasizes that this animal was usually sacrificed during the Mysteries, and that it appears on coins in connection with the cult of the Great Gods.53 Thus, a substantial number of documents support my interpretation that a kosmetes of the gymnasium would be likely to dedicate this horologion to the Great Gods. One might wonder what other evidence exists for a gymnasium on Lemnos. As far as we know, there is no firm archaeological evidence, but it is very likely that the island did have a gymnasium (indeed, it would be unusual if it lacked one). Several inscriptions appear to support this theory. Two decrees of the Imperial period (2nd/3rd century CE), refer to gymnasiarchs, one of them specifically to an epimeletes of the gymnasiarchy.54 Follet underscored the connection between this office and the supply of olive oil to the gymnasium.55 The connection sounds reasonable, and is even more interesting when we take into account another document.56 The text in question is fragmentary and now lost. Our only description of the inscribed object is rather brief, provided by Reinach in 1885.57 He described the item as a stele one meter high, with a crown on the left and an amphora on the right. Inside the crown, he could discern two lines, “très effacées,” in which he was able to read only five letters: ΣΑΝΤΑ. He proposed to restore the participle [νική]σαντα, which fits well with the extant letters. Fredrich, however, who saw the inscription and made what is now an invaluable squeeze (kept in the archive of IG in Berlin), made a different suggestion.58 Interpreting the crown (clearly done 51

52 53 54 55 56 57 58

IGR IV 294 ll. 5–7. We think that the chronology suggested by Jones 2000: 1–14 must be accepted. On the same position also Chankowski 1998: 159–97 and Virgilio1994: 299–314. In support of the traditional chronology of 125 BCE, endorsed by the German school (Hepding 1907: 258–377), see Musti 2009: 259–73 (with mention of his previous studies on Pergamon). See also D’Amore 2007: 339–46. For the identification of the heroon of Diodoros Pasparos, see now Genovese 2011: 57–74. On the festival called Kriobolia, see D’Amore 2009: 167 with bibliography. Hemberg 1950: 179. IG XII 8 27 and Follet 1974/75 [1978]: 309–12. Follet 1974/75 [1978]: 311. On the provision of olive oil, see Fröhlich 2009: 57–94; Curty 2015: 261–80. IG XII 8 25. Reinach 1885: 91. We would like to thank the Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin and especially Professor Halloff for providing us with an image of the squeeze.

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with olive branches and leaves) and the amphora as allusions to the provision of olive oil, he restored [γυµνασι|αρχή]σαντα.59 Both editors dated the inscription to the 2nd century BCE. If the lost document did refer to a gymnasiarch, as seems likely, then we acquire yet another piece of evidence for the existence of a gymnasium on Hellenistic Lemnos. If my interpretation is correct, the horologion of Dexippos may pave the way to a series of new hypotheses. First it offers further support in favor of the theory that a gymnasium existed on Lemnos. Second, it provides a further example of a sundial connected with the gymnasium to the corpus we already know. And finally, it teaches us something new about the ephebes and their tangled relationship with the Great Gods. Nonetheless, I would like to conclude with the prudent and useful adage by one of the greatest epigraphists, David M. Lewis: “It is easier to see the difficulties in earlier theories than to suggest anything plausible in their place.”60 Bibliographic References Accame, S. 1941/3 [1948]. “Le iscrizioni del Cabirio di Lemno.” ASAA 19–21: 75–105. Audiat, J. 1930. “Le gymnase de Délos et l’inventaire de Kallistratos.” BCH 54: 95–130. Beschi, L. 1996/7 [2000]. “Cabirio di Lemno: testimonianze letterarie ed epigrafiche.” ASAA74–75: 7–145. Beschi, L. 2000. “Gli scavi del Cabirio di Chloi.” In A. Di Vita (ed.), Un ponte fra l’Italia e la Grecia : atti del simposio in onore di Antonino Di Vita, Ragusa, 13–15 febbraio 1998, 75–84. Padova. Beschi, L. 2003: “Il primitivo Telesterion del Cabirio di Lemno.” ASAA81: 963–1022. Beschi, L. 2004. “Il Telesterion ellenistico del Cabirio di Lemno.” ASAA82: 225–341. Bremmer, J.N. 2014. Initiation into the Mysteries of the Ancient World. Berlin. Cargill, J. 1995. Athenian Settlements of the Fourth Century B.C. Leiden. Chankowski, A.S. 1998. “La procédure législative à Pergame au Ier siècle av. J.-C. : à propos de la cronologierelative des décrets en l’honneur de Diodoros Pasparos.” BCH 112: 159–97. Chankowski, A.S. 2010. L’Éphébie hellénistique: Étude d’une institution civique dans les cités grecques des îles de la Mer Égée et de l’Asie Mineure. Paris. Chaniotis, A. 2005. War in the Hellenistic World. Oxford. Clinton, K. 2014. “The Athenian Cleruchy on Lemnos”. In A.P. Matthaiou, R.K. Pitt (eds.), 59 60

IG XII 8 25. Some examples of the iconography related to the olive oil supply are provided by Fröhlich 2009: 72–94. Lewis 1959: 237.

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Ἀθηναίων Ἐπίσκοπος: Studies in honour of Harold B. Mattingly, 327–339, Athens. Cole, S.G. 1984. Theoi Megaloi: The Cult of the Great Gods at Samothrace. Leiden. Cruccas, E. 2014. Gli dei senza nome. Sincretismi, ritualità e iconografia dei Cabiri e dei Grandi Dei tra Grecia e Asia Minore. Rahden. Culasso Gastaldi, E. 2009. “La ginnasiarchia ad Atene: Istituzioni, ruoli e personaggi dal IV secolo all’età ellenistica.” In O. Curty, S. Piccand, and S. Codourey (eds.), L’huile et l’argent : gymnasiarchie et évergétisme dans la Grèce hellénistique.Actes du colloque tenu à Fribourg du 13 au 15 octobre 2005, publiés en l’honneur du professeur Marcel Piérart à l’occasion de son 60ème anniversaire, 115–43. Paris. Culasso Gastaldi, E. 2010 [2012]. “L’isola di Lemnos attraverso la documentazione epigráfica.” ASAA 88: 347–64. Culasso Gastaldi, E. 2011, “Cleruchie? Non cleruchie? Alcune riflessioni sugli insediamenti extraterritoriali di Atene.” In R. Scuderi and C. Zizza (eds.), In ricordo di Dino Ambaglio. Atti del convegno, Università di Pavia, 9–10 dicembre 2009, 115–146. Pavia. Culasso Gastaldi, E. 2015. “Composizione e mobilità sociale di una cleruchia: l’esempio di Lemnos e non solo.” In A.P. Matthaiou and N. Papazarkadas (eds.), ΑΞΩΝ:Studies in honor of Ronald S. Stroud, 599–637. Athens. Curty, O. 2015. Gymnasiarchika: recueil et analyse des inscriptions de l’époque hellénistique en l’honneur des gymnasiarques. Paris. D’Amore, L. 2007. “Il culto civico dei sovrani e degli evergeti nelle città ellenistiche d’Asia Minore: il ruolo del ginnasio.” In M. Mayer i Olivé, G. Baratta, and A. Guzmán Almagro (eds.), Acta XII Congressus internationalis epigraphiae : provinciae imperii romani inscriptionibus descriptae, Barcelona, 3–8 Septembris 2002, 339–46. Barcelona. D’Amore, L. 2009. “Dediche sacre e ginnasi: la documentazione epigrafica di età ellenistica.” In J. Bodel and M. Kajava (eds.), Dediche sacre nel mondo greco-romano: Diffusione, funzioni, tipologie. Roma, 19–20 Aprile 2006, 161–80. Rome. Daumas, M. 1998. Cabiriaca. Recherches sur l’iconographie du culte des Cabires. Paris. Deonna, W. 1938. Le mobilier délien. Paris. Ficuciello, L. 2013. Lemnos. Cultura, storia, archeologia, topografia di un’isola del Nord Egeo. Athens. Figueira, T. 2008. “Colonisation in the Classical Period.” In G.R. Tsetskhladze (ed.), Greek Colonisation: an Account of Greek Colonies and Other Settlements Overseas, 427–523. Leiden and Boston. Follet, S. 1974/75 [1978]. “Inscription inédite de Myrina.” ASAA 52–53: 309–12. Franco, C. 1993. Il regno di Lisimaco : strutture amministrative e rapporto con la città. Pisa. Fröhlich, P. 2009. « Les activités évergétiques des gymnasiarques à l’époque hellénistique tardive : la fourniture de l’huile.” In O. Curty, S. Piccand, and S. Codourey

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(eds.), L’huile et l’argent : gymnasiarchie et évergétisme dans la Grèce hellénistique. Actes du colloque tenu à Fribourg du 13 au 15 octobre 2005, publiés en l’honneur du professeur Marcel Piérart à l’occasion de son 60ème anniversaire, 54–94. Paris. Funke, W. and P. Eck (eds.). 2014. Öffentlichkeit, Monument, Text: XIV Congressus Internationalis Epigraphiae Graecae et Latinae, 27–31 Augusti MMXII: Akten. Berlin and Boston. Gauthier, P. and M. Hatzopoulos. 1993. La loi gymnasiarque de Beroia. Athens. Genovese, C. 2011. ‘“Per eterna memoria e immortalità di un benefattore.’ L’ ‘Heroon’ di Diodoro Pasparo a Pergamo.” Mediterraneo Antico 14: 57–74. Gibbs, S. 1976. Greek and Roman Sundials. New Haven and London. Habicht, C. 2006. Athènes Hellénistique, histoire de la cité d’Alexandre à Marc Antoine. Trans. M. and D. Knoepfler. Paris. Hannah, R. 2009. Time in Antiquity. London and New York. Hemberg, B. 1950. Die Kabiren. Uppsala. Hepding, H. 1907. “Die Arbeiten zu Pergamon, 1904–1905, II, Die Inschriften.” MDAI(A) 32: 241–377. Houston, G.W. 2015. “Using Sundials.” In L.L. Brice and D. Slootjes (eds.), Aspects of Ancient Institutions and Geography: Studies in Honor of Richard J.A. Talbert: 298–313. Leiden and Boston. Jones, C.P. 2000. “Diodoros Pasparos Revisited.” Chiron 30: 1–14. Kallet Marx, R. and R.S. Stroud. 1997. “Two Athenian Decrees Concerning Lemnos of the Late First Century BC.” Chiron 27: 155–93. Knoepfler, D. 2015. “L’éphébie athénienne come préparation à la guerre du IVe au IIe siècle av. J.C.”. In P. Contamine, J. Jouanna, M. Zink (eds.), Actes du Colloque sur la Grèce et la guerre. Cahiers de la Villa “Kérylos” 26: 59–104. Landucci Gattinoni, F. 1992. Lisimaco di Tracia : un sovrano nella prospettiva del primo ellenismo. Milan. Lehmann, K. 1998. Samothrace. A Guide to Excavations and the Museum.6 Thessaloniki. Leone, R. 2010 [2012]. “Tra Lemno e Samotracia: il santuario degli dei Cabiri di Chloi.” ASAA 88: 271–80. Lewis, D.M. 1959. “Attic Manumissions.” Hesperia 28: 208–38. Marchiandi, D.F. 2002 [2003]. “Fattorie e periboli funerari nella chora di Efestia (Lemno): l’occupazione del territorio di una cleruchia ateniese tra V e IV secolo a.C.” ASAA 80: 487–583. Marchiandi, D.F. 2008 [2010]. “Riflessioni in merito allo statuto giuridico di Lemno nel V secolo a.c. La ragnatela bibliografica e l’evidenza archeologica: un dialogo possibile?” ASAA 86: 11–38. Marchiandi, D.F. 2010 [2012]. “Le consuetudini funerarie dell’élite ateniese: i lebeti bronzei di Myrina (Lemnos).” ASAA 88: 221–36.

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Mari, M. 2001. “Gli studi sul santuario e i culti di Samotracia: prospettive e problemi.” In S. Rubichini, M. Rocchi, and P. Xella (eds.), La questione delle influenze vicinoorientali sulla religione greca: Stato degli studi e prospettive della ricerca (Atti del colloqui internazionale. Roma 20–22 maggio 1999), 155–67. Rome. Meritt, B.D. 1946. “Greek Inscriptions.” Hesperia 15: 169–263. Meritt, B.D. 1947. “Greek Inscriptions.” Hesperia 16: 147–83. Moretti, J.-C. 1996. “Le gymnase de Délos.” BCH 120: 617–38. Moretti, J.-C. 1997. “Les inventaires du gymnase de Délos.” BCH 121: 125–52. Musti, D. 2001. “Aspetti della religione dei Cabiri.” In S. Rubichini, M. Rocchi, and P. Xella (eds.), La questione delle influenze vicino-orientali sulla religione greca: Stato degli studi e prospettive della ricerca (Atti del colloqui internazionale. Roma 20–22 maggio 1999), 141–54. Rome. Musti, D. 2009. “Aspetti e funzioni della ginnasiarchia nell’Asia Minore occidentale.” In O. Curty, S. Piccand, and S. Codourey (eds.), L’huile et l’argent : gymnasiarchie et évergétisme dans la Grèce hellénistique. Actes du colloque tenu à Fribourg du 13 au 15 octobre 2005, publiés en l’honneur du professeur Marcel Piérart à l’occasion de son 60ème anniversaire, 259–73. Paris. Pelekides, C. 1965. Histoire de l’Ephébie Attique des origines à 31 avant Jésus–Christ. Athens. Perrin-Saminadayar, E. 2007. Éducation, culture et société à Athènes. Les acteurs de la vie culturelle athénienne (229–88). Un tout petit monde. Paris. Plassart, A. 1912. “Fouilles de Délos exécutées aux frais de M. le Duc de Loubat. Inscriptions du Gymnase.” BCH 36: 393–94. Pritchett, W.K. 1974. The Greek State at War, II. Berkeley. Reinach, S. 1885. “Chronique d’Orient.” RA 6: 87–116. Rhodes, P.J. 1993. A Commentary on the Aristotelian Athenaion Politeia. Oxford. Rhul, B. 2010 [2012]. “Gli Ateniesi sull’isola di Imbro.” ASAA 88: 455–68. Rocca, F. 2010 [2012]. “Le iscrizioni di manomissione dal Cabirio di Lemno.” ASAA 88: 289–308. Rocca, F. 2014. “The manumission inscriptions from Lemnos: some news.” Historikà 4: 145–64. Salviat, F. 1994. “Au gymnase de Délos : la cour de la balle et l’horloge.” In M. Amouretti and P. Villard (eds.), ΕΥΚΡΑΤΑ. Mélanges offerts à Claude Vatin, 189–200. Paris. Scarpi, P. 2002. Le religioni dei misteri. Volume II: Samotracia, Andania, Iside, Cibele e Attis, Mitraismo. Milan. Schaldach, K. 2006. Die antiken Sonnenuhren Griechenlands: Festland und Peloponnes. Frankfurt. Tracy, S. 1990. Attic Letter-Cutters of 229 to 86 B.C. Berkeley. Veuve, S. 1982. “Cadrans solaires gréco-bactriens à Aï Khanoum (Afghanistan).” BCH 106: 23–51.

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Virgilio, B. 1994. “La città ellenistica e i suoi « benefattori » : Pergamo e Diodoro Pasparos.” Athenaeum 82: 299–314. Viscardi, G. 2010. “Artemide Munichia: aspetti e funzioni mitico-rituali della dea del Pireo.” DHA 36: 31–60. Wilcken U. 1885, “ArsinoitischeTempelrechnungen aus dem J. 215 n. Chr.” Hermes 20: 430–76. Winter, E. 2013. Zeitzeichen: zur Verwendung und Entwicklung antiker Zeitmesser. Munich.

Chapter 8

Homonyms in Greek Sculptors’ Signatures: The Case of Boëthos Catherine M. Keesling As recent publications demonstrate—especially the multi-volume corpus of testimonia Der Neue Overbeck (DNO)—the signatures of Greek sculptors are worthy of serious study by epigraphists.1 These short inscribed texts, despite their ease of reading, present epigraphical problems that deserve closer examination. Sculptors’ signatures may be the only genre of inscription on stone that encourages us—even requires us—to track the recurrence of the names of the same individuals across the epigraphic corpora of the entire Graeco-Roman world. In the Archaic, Classical, and most of the Hellenistic period, when inscribed sculptors’ signatures were intended to be read only within the immediate context where statues stood, there was little occasion for confusion between sculptors with the same name. Some homonymous Greek sculptors of these periods were clearly members of the same family: one thinks of the mid-fourth-century Athenian sculptor Praxiteles, who had both a father or uncle and a son named Kephisodotos. However, changes in the production and distribution of Greek sculpture in the later Hellenistic (ca. 200–30 BCE) and early Roman imperial periods complicate the process of identifying and dating the careers of Greek sculptors using the evidence of signatures. In these periods both Greek sculptors and their signed works traveled around the Mediterranean and beyond.2 The inscribed name of the same sculptor from Athens or Rhodes might turn up on Delos, in Asia Minor, Italy, the south of France, the Crimea, or North Africa. This reality conflicts with the normative assumption in Greek epigraphy that people with the same name (homonyms) whose names occur in inscriptions of different places, genres, and periods were not the same individual. 1 In addition to DNO, see Viviers 2006 and Hurwit 2015 on sculptors’ signatures. I would like to thank the organizers of the Berkeley NACGLE conference for their wonderful hospitality. At the conference, A. Chaniotis, J. Morgan, and A. Stewart made comments that have improved this essay. I am grateful to them, and to O. Palagia for sharing her conclusions about the Elgin throne. 2 For discussions of these developments, see J. Marcadé, Recueil (sculptors on Delos); Stewart 1979 (Athenian sculptors); Pollitt 2000 (Rhodian sculptors); and Ridgway 2000.

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The most common solution to the problem of Greek sculptors’ signatures featuring the same names but apparently irreconcilable dates or geographic locations has been to posit that there were multiple sculptors of the same name. With each new corpus devoted to the epigraphical evidence for Greek sculptors, these hypothetical homonyms multiply. Yet two specific epigraphical practices that began in the second century BCE argue against the widespread homonymity of sculptors. First, it is evident that when Greek sculptors’ original works were assembled in new collections, the sculptors’ signatures were copied. As a result, signatures naming individuals of earlier periods are found on statue bases of late Hellenistic or Roman imperial date. Second, in the early Roman imperial period especially, long-dead Greek sculptors, such as the fifth-century sculptor Myron of Eleutherai, the fourth-century Praxiteles, and many others, were named in signatures applied to newly manufactured works in a variety of media. In this essay, I will reexamine a single example of multiplying homonyms with a critical eye, paying special attention to these two epigraphic practices. The name Boëthos (Βόηθος) recurs in literary texts and in inscribed signatures found in Delos, Lindos on Rhodes, Athens, Ephesos, Rome, and the Mahdia shipwreck off the coast of Tunisia. The question of how many different sculptors named Boëthos there were in antiquity has generated answers ranging from two to five, over a period stretching from the third century BCE to the first century CE.3 Out of caution, both the DNO and the Künstlerlexikon der Antike divide the attestations into multiple entries (four and eight respectively). I will argue that there were only two sculptors named Boëthos, the first a native of Kalchedon in Asia Minor active in the first half of the second century BCE, and the second a member of a family of sculptors who worked on Delos and in Athens in the last quarter of the second century BCE. The case of Boëthos exemplifies the more general principle that Greek sculptors’ signatures with the same name refer to the same sculptor, unless we can find compelling reasons to think that there was more than one sculptor of that name. Before proceeding to inscriptions, we need to consider why it matters how many sculptors named Boëthos there were. This name is associated with three important, and very different, works of Hellenistic art. The first is the sculptural type of a boy strangling a goose (the so-called Ganswürger), represented 3 The most important contributions are Praschniker 1945 and Rumpf 1952 (at least three different sculptors named Boëthos); J. Marcadé, Recueil II 28–36 (three); Aneziri and Damaskos 1989/90 (three); Linfert 1994 (as many as five); and Ridgway 2000: 246–54 (three). Cf. Stewart (1990: 229–30 and 305–6), who remarked that there might only have been two sculptors named Boëthos.

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by several extant Roman marble versions.4 In the first century CE, Pliny (HN 34.84) attributed this composition to a Greek sculptor named Boëthos: “Boëthi, quamquam argento melioris, infans eximie anserem strangulat” (Boëthos, though better as a worker in silver, made [in bronze] a child embracing a goose to the point that he strangles it). An earlier literary reference in Herondas’ Mimiambus 4, ll. 30–31, from the third century BCE, has been used to argue that this Boëthos was a sculptor of the late Classical or early Hellenistic period: ἆ πρὸς Μοιρέων/τὴν χηναλώπεκα ὡς τὸ παιδίον πνίγει (“And, by the Fates, see how the little boy is strangling a Nile goose!”). Yet, as has been pointed out by Ridgway and others, the χηνάλωπηξ is more like a duck than a goose, and therefore what Herondas refers to need not have any connection with either the Ganswürger statue type or a Greek sculptor named Boëthos. A second work associated in antiquity with a sculptor named Boëthos is the archaizing bronze herm of Dionysos found in the Mahdia shipwreck off the coast of Tunisia. A signature of Boëthos of Calchedon in Asia Minor is preserved on the right arm boss (Βόηθος | Καλχη|δόνιος | ἐποίει: Boëthos of Calchedon made it). This herm is part of a mixed cargo of Pentelic marble objects and bronzes, the latter probably originating in Delos. The shipwreck itself is now dated to ca. 70 BCE.5 Since the Mahdia herm shows signs of having once been attached to a marble base, it could either be an antique, made and signed by an earlier sculptor named Boëthos, or a recent work dating shortly before 70 BCE.6 Third comes the marble Elgin throne, originally from Athens but now in the J. Paul Getty Museum in Malibu (inv. 74.AA.12).7 Understandably, because the inscription running along the upper left edge of the throne lacks a verb (IG II2 5167=DNO 2454, to be discussed later in this essay) many have doubted that this is a signature. The Elgin throne has, with little justification, been dated to the early third century BCE and associated with Demetrios Poliorcetes. Nevertheless, the muscular 4 For the Ganswürger as an example of the so-called Hellenistic rococo, see Pollitt 1986: 128–41; Linfert 1994: 837–43; and Ridgway 2000: 252–54. Ridgway 2006 suggests that the strangling motif has a religious origin. 5 See Hellenkemper Salies et al. 1994. Both the Mahdia herm and the Getty bronze herm (see below) are discussed in the catalogue for the exhibition “Power and Pathos: Bronze Sculpture of the Hellenistic World” (Daehner and Lapatin 2015: nos. 45 and 46). For the Delian origin of the Mahdia bronzes, see Barr-Sharrar 1998. 6 For the evidence that the Mahdia herm was once attached to a base, see Mattusch 1994: 432 and Barr-Sharrar 1998: 185–86; cf. the doubts expressed by Ridgway 2000: 251 and 265. 7 For the Elgin throne, see especially Seltman 1947: 22–27 (association with Demetrios Poliorcetes); Frel 1976 (arguing for a date of ca. 300 BCE and a connection with the Panathenaia); and Frischer 1982: 250–61 (critique of late-fourth century dating; association with the Athenian prytaneion). For photographs of the inscription, see Frel 1976: pls. 66.2 and 67.2.

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Hellenistic baroque style of the reliefs of Harmodios and Aristogeiton and of Theseus fighting an Amazon on the throne’s sides finds good parallels with sculptural works dated anywhere from the late fourth century BCE to the first century BCE. 1

Boëthos, Son of Athenaion, of Calchedon, the Mahdia Herm, and Boëthos of Carthage

If we think of the epigraphical attestations of a sculptor named Boëthos as a network, then two inscriptions on statue bases, one from Delos and the other from Lindos, are strong links which clearly refer to the same individual, Boëthos son of Athenaion of Calchedon, and place him in the first half of the second century BCE. The first inscription is the signature on the base for a portrait of Antiochos IV Epiphanes, datable to ca. 166–163 BCE (I.Délos 1540 = IGB 210= J. Marcadé, Recueil II 28 = DNO 3484):

5

Β[ασιλέα] Ἀν[τίοχον Ἐπιφανῆ] βα[σιλέ]ως Μεγ̣[άλου Ἀντιόχου] Ἀλ[έξ]ανδρος Ἀπολλ[οδώρου? - - -] ἀρετῆς ἕνεκεν καὶ εὐ[νοίας τῆς] εἰς τὸν δῆµον τὸν Ἀθ̣[ηναίων] Ἀπόλλωνι ∆η[λίωι]. Βόηθος Ἀθανα[ί]ωνο[ς ἐποίει]. Alexandros, son of Apollodoros, (dedicated) King Antiochos Epiphanes, son of the Great King Antiochos, to Delian Apollo on account of his virtue and goodwill toward the people of the Athenians. Boëthos, son of Athenaion, made it.

The second inscription is not a standard signature, but a rather a dedication by Boëthos himself dated to ca. 184 or 177 BCE by a formula naming the annual priest of Athena Lindia (I.Lindos II 165 = IGB 210 = J. Marcadé, Recueil II 28 = DNO 3485).8 It reveals that Boëthos had been honored by the Lindians with proxeny, perhaps in recognition of a benefaction. He in turn gave the Lindians a charisterion (thank-offering) which he had made himself: 8 For the revised dating to 177 BCE, see Badoud 2015, 281 no. 87.

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ἐπ’ ἰερέως τᾶς Ἀθάνας τᾶς Λινδίας Νικαγόρα τοῦ Παναιτίου καθ’ ὑοθεσίαν δὲ Aἰνησιδάµου Βόηθος Ἀθαναίωνος Καλχαδόνιος πρόξενος ποιήσας Ἀθάναι Λινδίαι χαριστήριον. Under the priest of Athena Lindia Nikagoras, son of Panaitios, adoptive son of Ainesidamos, the proxenos Boëthos, son of Athenaion, of Calchedon having made it (dedicated) a charisterion to Athena Lindia.

When we move beyond these strong links, we discover a larger collection of literary references and epigraphical testimonia to a Boëthos without patronymic or ethnic, dating from the first century BCE through the third century CE. In addition to attributing a bronze statue of a child strangling a goose to Boëthos, Pliny (HN 33.155) lists him among the foremost Greek practitioners of the art of toreutic (the chasing of gold, silver, and bronze) and reports that one of his best works was on display inside the temple of Athena at Lindos. Boëthos also appears as a famous maker of metal vessels in Cicero’s Verr. (2.4.32), where C. Verres is accused of stealing a hydria made by Boëthos from a private collection in Lilybaeum in Sicily, and in the pseudo-Vergilian Cul. (lines 65–68), where the name Boëthos is treated as a byword for luxury metalwork in general. An inscribed dedicatory epigram of the second or third century CE (IGUR I 102 = J. Marcadé, Recueil II 30 = DNO 3504), found near the Baths of Trajan in Rome, records the dedication by a doctor from Smyrna named Nikomedes of an antique statue representing a baby Asclepius, a statue praised in the epigram as “evidence for the old hands in art” (χειρῶν | δεῖγµα παλαιγενέων). Though it has been doubted that all of these testimonia could refer to the same individual, they all point toward the same conclusion: by the mid-first century BCE, Boëthos had become one of a select few Greek sculptors of the past whose names (for whatever reason) were strongly associated with broad categories of objects: Boëthian metal vessels, Boëthian statues of children, and even Boëthian bronze bed attachments, if we accept an emended reference to lecti boethici or boethiaci in Porphyrio’s third-century CE commentary on Horace Epistles 1.5.1. In truth, it is impossible to tell which objects mentioned by these sources were made by the second-century BCE Boëthos son of Athenaion of Calchedon, and which were merely Boëthian. It is unlikely that Cicero, Pliny, or the Greek doctor Nikomedes knew either. It is imperative that we revisit the Mahdia herm and its signature of Boëthos son of Athenaion of Calchedon within this rich late Hellenistic and Roman

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imperial context of name association across the arts of bronze sculpture and toreutike.9 Though we are accustomed to seeing Greek sculptors’ signatures on statue bases, the Mahdia herm inscription is an example of an integral signature, placed in an unobtrusive location on the statue itself.10 Such integral signatures became common from the late Hellenistic period onward, as Greek sculptors’ works traveled from the major production centers in the eastern Mediterranean to Roman Italy. In practice, integral signatures on works of art from this period have proven difficult to interpret because they can have diametrically opposed meanings. Some are autographs applied by the craftsman who made the object. This is clearly the meaning of the signature of Apollonios of Athens (IG XIV 712 = IGB 341 = DNO 4068) on a bronze herm found in the Villa dei Papiri at Herculaneum: since the herm is a close copy of the head of Polycleitus’ Doryphoros from the mid-fifth century BCE, the inscribed name refers to the copyist who made the herm rather than the originator of the sculptural type. Other late Hellenistic and Roman imperial integral signatures, however, feature the names of Greek sculptors of the past famous enough to be associated with a particular medium, subject matter, or style, inscribed on sculptural works to increase their perceived value. This interpretation is supported by a well-known passage in the first-century CE author Phaedrus’ preface to one of his compilations of fables (Fabulae 5, praef. 1–9): If I insert anywhere the name of ‘Aesop’ (to whom I have already paid the requisite debt), know that this is for the sake of his authority, just as certain artists do these days: they get a greater price for their new works if they write ‘Praxiteles’ on their rough marble, ‘Myron’ on the worn silver, ‘Zeuxis’ on a painting. So much does biting envy privilege counterfeit age over the goods at hand.11 Sure enough, eclectic marble works from this period inscribed with signatures naming Praxiteles have been found in southern France (Crest), northern Italy 9 10

11

Neither Greeks nor Romans made a firm distinction between the art of sculpture and the so-called minor arts such as toreutike: see Lapatin 2003 and Harris 2015. For integral signatures (called integrated signatures by Hurwit 2015), see Kron 1977; Donderer 1996; and Donderer 2004. As Donderer notes (1996: 94), if the signature on the Mahdia herm dates to the lifetime of Boëthos of Calchedon, it might be the earliest Hellenistic example; this is another argument for dating the signature on the Mahdia herm closer to 70 BCE. I would add that the use of the imperfect ἐποίει rather than the aorist in the signature, though attested in the first half of the second century BCE, became far more common on Delos in ca. 100 BCE. Trans. Squire 2013: 376. For the associations attached to some Greek sculptors’ names by the time of Quintilian, see Hölscher 2004: 92–98.

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(Verona), and central Greece (Lamia).12 It is symptomatic of the uncertainty that integral signatures inspire that these examples have at various times been taken as evidence for the existence of one or more late Hellenistic or early imperial Athenian sculptors named Praxiteles (listed under the rubric Praxiteles V in DNO). As I have argued elsewhere, the case for these homonyms is weak because it relies on epigraphical evidence that can be better explained with reference to the famous Athenian Praxiteles of the mid-fourth century BCE.13 It is possible that the integral signature on the Mahdia herm was an autograph of Boëthos of Calchedon. Alternatively, the name of the famous bronze worker could have been inscribed at a later date on a Boëthian art work. The general character of the Mahdia ship’s cargo favors the latter interpretation. The Mahdia bronzes—some of them newly produced and others removed from their original contexts for shipment—are a mixed lot of dancing dwarves, erotes, decorative protomes, and bronze bed attachments. Though it has been suggested that all were produced in the workshop of Boëthos of Calchedon on Delos, it seems safer to say that the bronzes were intended to be sold in Rome as Boëthian, including a herm made and inscribed with Boëthos’ name at some point before 70 BCE. Support for this interpretation comes from another, nearly identical bronze herm now in the J. Paul Getty Museum (inv. 79.AB.138). This herm was produced in the same workshop as the Mahdia herm and using the same metal alloy, but it has no signature. These details suggest that this statue type, popular in the late Hellenistic period, was being mass produced, whether or not its production had anything to do with Boëthos, son of Athenaion, of Calchedon.14 12

13

14

The statue found at Crest is a portrait bust of the poet Ibycus (IG XIV 2485 = IGB 488 = J. Marcadé, Recueil II 118). The integral signature (SEG LVII 981) on the tree-trunk support for a lost statue in Verona has now been definitively read as Πραξιτέλης | ἐπόει by Buonopane (2007); cf. Donderer 1988. Contra Corso (1996: 144–45) there is no reason to assume that this statue was a copy of one of Praxiteles’ original works. Praxiteles’ signature (IG IX 2 1320) also appears on a marble statue support in the form of a trophy from Lamia (now Athens NM 697). See Keesling 2007 and 2017, 211–214. This evidence consists of four statue bases from Athens with signatures of Praxiteles in late lettering (first century BCE or first century CE). Each signature can be identified either as a fourth-century inscription recut in a later period (IG II2 4181, 3882/4117, and 4240 = IGB add. 319a) or a later copy of a fourth-century inscription (IG II2 3886 = IGB 236). See Mattusch 2015: 116: “The traces of cobalt provide strong evidence that both bronzes were cast from the same batch of metal, that is, in the same pour.” Daehner and Lapatin (2015), assuming the signature on the Mahdia herm is an autograph, describe the relationship between the two bronze herms as follows: “[The Mahdia herm] is the only ancient bronze sculpture for which we have both an autograph version and subsequent

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Another weak epigraphical link to a sculptor named Boëthos provides a potential challenge to my hypothesis that all the evidence surveyed thus far relates to a single individual. Early in the twentieth century a series of eight matching inscribed statue bases (I.Eph II 510–514A) was found reused as spolia in the late antique basilica of the Virgin Mary at Ephesus. The bases and the statues they once supported most likely came from the nearby Harbor Baths and gymnasium complex. Since the bases have been lost, later editions of the inscriptions rely upon the notes made by their discoverer, Josef Keil. All eight bases were inscribed with an identical dedication to the emperor Tiberius and all were later erased, presumably to obliterate the name of the local magistrate who made the dedication. Also erased are the signatures of the sculptors, including one Boëthos Apollodorou of Carthage, whose name is clearly legible in Keil’s drawing: ⟦ ὑ[π]ὲρ τῆς τ[οῦ] Σεβασ[τοῦ] Τιβε[ρίου Καίσαρος]⟧ ⟦[ὑγιείας καὶ διαµονῆς τῆς Ῥωµαίων ἡγεµο]⟧⟦νί[ας] - - -⟧. ⟦Βόηθος Ἀπολλοδώρου Καρχηδόνιος ἐποίει⟧. For the health of Sebastos Tiberius Caesar and the endurance of the hegemony of the Romans … Boëthos son of Apollodoros the Carthaginian made it.15 The Ephesus series is a type of sculptural display with several parallels in the Greek east and the Roman west alike in the late Hellenistic and early imperial periods, in which statues made by Classical and Hellenistic sculptors were assembled and placed on new bases to create a unified gallery.16 But how do we know that the Ephesus statues were old? The key is another signature in the series (I.Eph II 512): that of Silanion, a fourth-century BCE sculptor best known for his portrait of Plato (DNO 2069–2086). On the face of it, it seems impossible to

15 16

reproductions” (282); the two herms are “an autograph work and a subsequent serial edition” (285), and they “may present a case of multiples produced by the same workshop” (33). I.Eph II 511 = J. Marcadé, Recueil II 34 = DNO 3505. The missing text has been restored on the basis of identical inscriptions in the series. Noteworthy examples—and perhaps the earliest in date—are two statue collections of the second century BCE from the sanctuary of Athena at Pergamon (I.Perg 48–50 and 135–140). Several series of inscribed bases for statues brought from the Greek east are known in Rome and its environs, e.g. IGB 489–92 from the Forum Romanum and IGB 481–85 seen by Jacob Spon in the gardens of the Villa Mattei.

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identify the Boëthos whose name appears in the Ephesus series with the known second century BCE sculptor Boëthos of Calchedon: the inscription calls him the son of Apollodoros, not Athenaion, and the ethnic as it is inscribed on the Ephesus base is Καρχηδόνιος (Carthaginian), not Καλχηδόνιος (Calchedonian). Further evidence for a Hellenistic sculptor named Boëthos of Carthage seems to come from a reference in Pausanias (5.17.4) to a gilded bronze statue of a child inside the temple of Hera at Olympia: παιδίον δὲ ἐπίχρυσον κάθηται γυµνὸν πρὸ τῆς Ἀφροδίτης· Βόηθος δὲ ἐτόρευσεν αὐτὸ Καρχηδόνιος (“A gilded, nude child sits in front of the Aphrodite; Boëthos the Carthaginian made it”). It is important to remember that the sculptors’ signatures in the Ephesus series are copies, not autographs: the sculptors’ names were supplied either by earlier inscriptions or, as is more likely in this particular case, by oral tradition in the Tiberian period. The spelling of Silanion’s name as Seilanion in I.Eph. II 512 clearly reflects the itacism of the first century CE. The interchange of rho for lambda in Boëthos’ ethnic could also be explained as an error in copying. The same confusion is found in informal inscriptions of imperial date from Asia Minor as well as Roman and Byzantine papyri.17 Pausanias’ Βόηθος Καρχηδόνιος can be explained away as either a misspelling or a mistake in the manuscript tradition that should be emended to Καλχηδόνιος.18 But, in addition to spelling Boëthos’ ethnic incorrectly, could whoever inscribed the Tiberian statue bases at Ephesus also have gotten his patronymic wrong? This too is possible. Two of the bases in the Ephesus series (I.Eph II 510 and 510A) bear signatures of a sculptor named Agatharchos: in the more legible of the two inscriptions, Keil read ⟦Ἀγάθαρχος Πειων̣[ί]ο̣υ̣ Σάµ̣ [ι]ος ̣ ἐποίει⟧ (Agatharchos, son of Pionios, of Samos made it). The two Ephesus statue bases constitute the only attestations of the name Pionios anywhere in the Greek world. When we look for this Agatharchos in DNO, we come up empty handed. The three attested Greek artists named Agatharchos are: a fifth-century BCE painter Agatharchos, son of Eudemos, of Samos (Agatharchos I, DNO 1629–1635); an early fourth-century sculptor Agatharchos (Agatharchos II, DNO 1459, 17

18

See, for example, χαρκεύς for χαλκεύς in an informal inscription of late date from Ephesus (I.Eph II 554). Gignac, Grammar (106) noted that the “frequent interchange of λ and ρ indicates that there was only one liquid phoneme /l/ in the speech of many writers in the Roman and Byzantine periods”. In Pausanias’ time, the Heraion at Olympia held a collection of Archaic, Classical, and Hellenistic statues, but this collection (unlike the one at Ephesus) appears to have been anepigraphic. Cf. Praschniker (1945), who tried to match a later (Trajanic?) marble statue of a small boy with a duck or Nile goose found in the nearby Harbor gymnasium complex with the Boëthos base. The connection led him to associate the child statue in the Heraion at Olympia, the Ganswürger statue type, and the baby Asclepius dedicated by Nikomedes of Smyrna with Boëthos of Carthage.

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patronymic and ethnic unknown) who worked on Thasos; and a sculptor of the second half of the third century known as Agatharchos, son of Dionysios, of Boiotia (Agatharchos III, DNO 3238–3239). The Agatharchos whose works were displayed in Ephesus might be Agatharchos II; but I also wonder whether the singular patronym Pionios might simply be erroneous. Like the homonym Boëthos, son of Apollodoros, of Carthage, the homonym Agatharchos, son of Pionios, of Samos should be questioned since his name appears only in a copied signature of late date. 2

Boëthos, Son of Diodotos, and the Elgin Throne

A second Greek sculptor named Boëthos is attested by a single strong epigraphic link, a signature on the base for an honorific portrait on Delos dated soon before 126/5 BCE, one or two generations after Boëthos I:

5

[οἱ ἔ]µποροι κα[ὶ να]ύ[κληρ]οι [Ἐπιγ]έν̣ ην ∆ίου Μελιτέα, [ἐπιµ]ε̣λητὴν γενόµενον [∆]ήλ[ου], [ἀρετῆ]ς ἕνεκεν καὶ δικαιοσύνη[ς] Ἀπόλλωνι. Βόηθος καὶ Θεοδόσιος ἐποίησαν.

The merchants and ship owners (dedicated) Epigenes, son of Dios, of Melite, Superintendent of Delos, to Apollo on account of his virtue and sense of justice. Boëthos and Theodosios made it (I.Délos 1703 = J. Marcadé, Recueil II 32 = DNO 3655). The joint signature of two sculptors is typical of late second-century Delian practice. In the case of Boëthos II, three weak epigraphic links (all of them integral signatures) help to firm up his identity. The first is a joint signature of Menodotos and Diodotos of Nikomedia in Asia Minor, sons of Boëthos, inscribed on the support for the club of a marble Herakles. The inscription is now lost but was seen by the sixteenth-century antiquarian Pirro Ligorio in a Roman collection: Μηνόδοτος καὶ ∆ιόδοτος οἱ Βοήθου | Νικοµηδεῖς ἐποίουν (Menodotos and Diodotos the Nikomedians, sons of Boëthos, made it: IGB 521 = J. Marcadé, Recueil II 72 = DNO 3975). Elsewhere in his notebooks Pirro Ligorio also transcribed the inscription on a marble herm signed by Diodotos Boëthou alone: Ἑρµῆς. | ∆ιόδοτος | Βοήθου | ἐποί[ει] (Hermes. Diodotos son of Boëthos made it: IGB 522 = DNO 3976). Though Loewy in IGB classified both signatures as “obviously fabricated,” in keeping with Pirro Ligorio’s reputation

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as a forger of epigraphic texts, neither signature conforms to the patterns for forged inscriptions identified by more recent scholarship on Pirro Ligorio’s notebooks.19 Rather, both of these signatures naming sons of Boëthos seem consistent with the late Hellenistic and early imperial practice of signing marble statues in the workshop before shipping them to Rome. The Delian statue base and Pirro Ligorio’s two lost inscriptions, taken together, yield the stemma for a family of sculptors working on Delos in the last quarter of the second century BCE: Boëthos II, a relative named Theodosios, and two sons of Boëthos II named Menodotos and Diodotos. These four individuals could even be descendants of Boëthos I of Calchedon, if his family acquired citizenship in Nikomedeia in Asia Minor (founded in ca. 265 BCE). It seems to me more than coincidental that two of these names, Boëthos and Diodotos, may also occur in relation to one another in the inscription on the upper edge of the Elgin throne. Both the restoration of this inscription and its interpretation present serious difficulties. I prefer to explain it as an integral sculptor’s signature of Boëthos II, restorable either with or without the verb. Its most recent editor, K. Hallof in DNO (2454), prints Βόηθος ∆ιοδ[c. 14–16] ΙΟΣvac. The restoration Βόηθος ∆ιοδ[ότου] is obvious, but if the final three letters, which were seen only in the early nineteenth century when the throne was still in Athens, are correct, they make it impossible to restore the ethnic for Nikomedeia (Νικοµηδεύς). The inscribed text may, however, have continued on after the vacat, since this area of the throne is broken. A longer text opens up the possibility of restoring the names of both Boëthos son of Diodotos and Theodosios (Βόηθος ∆ιοδ[ότου καὶ Θεοδόσ]ιος) in a joint signature, with or without the verb ἐποίουν following the vacat. If Boëthos II signed the Elgin throne, then the throne itself must date later than many commentators have thought, to the late second century BCE.20 3

Conclusion

I have argued here that there were only two Greek sculptors named Boëthos. The first is Boëthos I (Boëthos son of Athenaion of Calchedon), active on Delos 19 20

For recent approaches to Pirro Ligorio, with further bibliography, see Orlandi, Caldelli, and Gregori 2015: 43–51. In a not-yet published 2014 conference paper entitled “The Elgin Throne and the Tyrannicides,” Olga Palagia (pers. comm.) dates the Elgin throne to the late second or early first century BCE and identifies Boëthos as the sculptor who signed the portrait of Epigenes on Delos. A date of ca. 100 BCE or later for the Elgin throne was argued already by Eschbach (1986: 86–87), but without reference to the inscription.

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as a bronze sculptor and metalworker in the first half of the second century BCE. The Mahdia herm is more likely to be a work made at a later date and inscribed with his name than it is to be his own handiwork. Boëthos II (Boëthos son of Diodotos) can be identified as a member of a family of sculptors working on Delos near the end of the second century BCE, in which case I interpret the inscription on the Elgin throne as an autograph signature of this sculptor. Though the case of Boëthos is both complicated and in some respects sui generis, this review of the evidence demonstrates that not all inscribed sculptors’ signatures are created equal. Some are autographs, strong links to the identity of a single individual; others attest to the later copying of the name of an earlier sculptor or signing a newly-made work with the name of a sculptor of the past. The signatures of some Greek sculptors are better explained as references to a known individual than as evidence for homonyms, and the copying of sculptors’ names in new inscriptions casts doubt upon the very existence of some homonyms that appear in the scholarship on Greek sculpture, such as Boëthos, son of Apollodoros, of Carthage.21 Bibliography DNO = S. Kansteiner, K. Hallof, B. Seidensticker, and S. Prignitz, eds. Der neue Overbeck: Die antiken Schriftquellen zu den bildenden Künsten der Griechen, 5 vols. Berlin 2014. IGB = E. Loewy. Inschriften griechischer Bildhauer. Leipzig 1885. Künstlerlexikon = R. Vollkommer, ed. Künstlerlexikon der Antike, 2 vols. Munich/Leipzig 2001–2004. Marcadé, Recueil = J. Marcadé. Recueil des signatures de sculpteurs grecs, 2 vols. Paris 1953–1956. Aneziri, S. and D. Damaskos 1989–1990. “Βόηθος.” Archaiognosia 6: 183–191. Badoud, N. 2015. Le temps de Rhodes : Une chronologie des inscriptions de la cité fondée sur l’étude de ses institutions. Munich. Barr-Sharrar, B. 1998. “Some Observations Concerning Late Hellenistic Bronze Production on Delos.” In O. Palagia and W. Coulson (eds.), Regional Schools in Hellenistic Sculpture: Proceedings of an International Conference held at the American School of Classical Studies at Athens, March 15–17, 1996, 185–98. Oxford. Buonopane, A. 2007. “Prassitele, non Pasitele. Ancora sulla ‘firma’ di scultore greco del Museo Archeologico al teatro romano di Verona.” Analecta Brixiana 2: 79–84. Corso, A. 1996. “The Hermes of Praxiteles.” NAC 25: 131–153. 21

For a similar art historical and epigraphic inquiry with the goal of eliminating spurious homonyms, see Queyrel 1992 on the Greek sculptors named Phyromachos.

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Daehner, J.M. and K. Lapatin, eds. 2015. Power and Pathos: Bronze Sculpture of the Hellenistic World. Los Angeles. Donderer, M. 1988. “Nicht Praxiteles, sondern Pasiteles.” ZPE 73: 63–68. Donderer, M. 1996. “Bildhauersignaturen auf griechischer Rundplastik.” JÖAI 65: 87–104. Donderer, M. 2004. “Antike Bildhauersignaturen—Wo man sie nicht erwarten würde.” JÖAI 73: 81–96. Eschbach, N. 1986. Statuen auf panathenäischen Preisamphoren des 4. Jhs. v. Chr. Mainz. Frel, J. 1976. “Some Notes on the Elgin Throne.” MDAI (A) 91: 185–88. Frischer, B. 1982. The Sculpted Word: Epicureanism and Philosophical Recruitment in Ancient Greece. Berkeley/Los Angeles. Harris, W.V. 2015. “Prolegomena to a Study of the Economics of Roman Art.” AJA 119: 395–417. Hellenkemper Salies, G. et al. (eds.) 1994. Das Wrack: Der antike Schiffsfund von Mahdia, 2 vols. Cologne. Hölscher, T. 2004. The Language of Images in Roman Art. Trans. A. Snodgrass and A. Künzl-Snodgrass. Cambridge. Hurwit, J.M. 2015. Artists and Signatures in Ancient Greece. Cambridge. Keesling, C.M. 2007. “Early Hellenistic Portrait Statues in Athens: Survival, Reuse, Transformation.” In P. Schultz and R. von den Hoff (eds.), Early Hellenistic Portraiture: Image, Style, Context, 141–60. Cambridge. Keesling, C.M. 2017. Early Greek Portraiture: Monuments and Histories. Cambridge. Kron, U. 1977. “Eine Pandion-Statue in Rom, mit einem Exkurs zu Inschriften auf Plinthen.” JDAI 92: 139–68. Lapatin, K. 2003. “The Fate of Plate and Other Precious Materials: Toward a Historiography of Ancient Greek Minor (?) Arts.” In A.A. Donohue and M. Fullerton (eds.), Ancient Art and its Historiography, 69–91. Cambridge/New York. Linfert, A. 1994. “Boethoi.” In Hellenkemper Salies et al. 1994: 831–47. Mattusch, C.C. 2015. “Repeated Images: Beauty with Economy.” In Daehner and Lapatin 2015: 111–25. Orlandi, S., M.L. Caldelli, and G.L. Gregori 2015. “Forgeries and Fakes.” In C. Bruun and J. Edmondson (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Roman Epigraphy, 42–65. Oxford. Pollitt, J.J. 1986. Art in the Hellenistic Age. Cambridge/New York. Pollitt, J.J. 2000. “The Phantom of a Rhodian School of Sculpture.” In N.T. de Grummond and B.S. Ridgway (eds.), From Pergamon to Sperlonga: Sculpture and Context, 92–110. Berkeley/Los Angeles. Praschniker, C. 1945. “Boëthos von Karthago.” Anzeiger, Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften, Philosophisch-Historische Klasse 82: 18–30. Queyrel, F. 1992. “Phyromachos: Problèmes de style et de datation.” RA n.s. 2: 367–80. Ridgway, B.S. 2000. Hellenistic Sculpture II: The Styles of ca. 200–100 B.C. Madison.

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Ridgway, B.S. 2006. “The Boy Strangling the Goose: Genre Figure or Mythological Symbol?” AJA 110: 643–48. Rumpf, A. 1952. “Boethoi.” JÖAI 39: 86–89. Seltman, C. 1947. “Two Athenian Marble Thrones.” JHS 67: 22–30. Squire, M. 2013. “Ars in their ‘I’s: Authority and Authorship in Graeco-Roman Visual Culture.” In A. Marmodoro and J. Hill, eds., The Author’s Voice in Classical and Late Antiquity. 357–414. Oxford. Stewart, A.F. 1979. Attika: Studies in Athenian Sculpture of the Hellenistic Age. London. Stewart, A.F. 1990. Greek Sculpture: An Exploration, 2 vols. New Haven. Viviers, D. 2006. “Signer une oeuvre en Grèce ancienne: Pourquoi? Pour qui?” In J. de la Genière (ed.), Les clients de la céramique grecque : actes du colloque de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, Paris, 30–31 Janvier 2004 (Cahiers de Corpus Vasorum Antiquorum, France I), 141–54. Paris.

PART 2 The Roman West

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Chapter 9

Mapping Katadesmoi in the Western Roman Empire Celia Sánchez Natalías 1

Introduction1

This paper seeks to analyze the distribution and importance of Greek curse tablets, also known as katadesmoi, in the Western Roman Empire ranging from the sixth century BCE until the fifth century CE. This type of analysis has already been conducted for the defixiones in Latin and the other languages spoken in this area (namely, Oscan, Etruscan, Celtic, and Punic).2 A parallel analysis of Greek pieces, however, has yet to be carried out. Accordingly, this paper answers how and when Greek curse tablets came to the region in question; at what pace they were introduced; and finally, to what extent Greek texts overlap and interact with texts in other languages. The ultimate aim of this article is to provide a panoramic view of this magical practice, which slowly but steadily played an increasingly important role in the Roman West. Before beginning it is important to define some keywords. When using the terms katadesmos and defixio, I follow the lead of David Jordan who understands them as “inscribed pieces of lead, usually in the form of small, thin sheets, intended to influence, by supernatural means, the actions or welfare of persons or animals against their will.”3 This has been taken as the standard working definition for ancient curse tablets, including the so-called defixiones 1 I began the research for this paper while enjoying generous grants from both the Fondation Hardt (May, 2014) and also the Center for Epigraphical and Palaeographical Studies at The Ohio State University (July, 2015). I owe both institutions my sincerest thanks. Finally, I would like to thank Professor F. Marco Simón for helpful comments on the current article, which forms a part of the project “Procesos de aculturación religiosa en el Mundo Antiguo y en la América colonial” (reference number HAR 201457067P) and to Dr. Ben Jerue for his translation from Spanish to English and further suggestions. In this paper I use the following abbreviations: DT= A. Audollent (1904), NGCT= D.R. Jordan (2001) and SGD= D.R. Jordan (1985). 2 See Sánchez Natalías 2012. For bilingual inscriptions, see Marco Simón 2012. 3 Jordan 1985: 151 and also 2001: 5–6, where the author lists texts written on materials other than lead. For the issue in general, see Sánchez Natalías 2011; for the different materials used in broader magical practices, see Vallarino 2010.

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in fures, which are sometimes referred to as “prayers for justice”.4 Despite the alignment of katadesmos and defixio by Philoxenus in his Glossarium,5 in this paper I will use the first to refer to curses written in Greek and the second to texts written in Latin; “curse tablet” will refer to the trend generally irrespective of language. Furthermore, it is noteworthy that magical figurines are also brought to bear on the discussion (and accordingly mapped), since the only difference between these and curse tablets is their shape: both types of objects were indeed potent weapons in the arsenal of ancient magical practices and dealt similar blows to their victims.6 As a final preliminary, mention should be made of the geographical scope covered and the dating criterion used in this paper.7 The two maps used closely corresponds to Roman provincial borders. In the maps, which employ modern toponyms, I have marked the sites at which tablets have been discovered. Since we do not know the archaeological context of some pieces, they do not, for obvious reasons, appear on the maps, though they are included in quantitative statistics. As far as the dating of pieces goes, which can be a bone of contention, I have relied on four guiding principles: archaeological context (which uniquely offers a reliable terminus post quem), paleography, linguistic features, and (on rare occasions) prosopography. Nevertheless, some dates cannot be pinned down precisely and I have accordingly used a range (e.g. “between the first and third century CE”). Although this can complicate the analysis of the larger set, I have erred on the side of safety rather than hazarding convenient guesses. Finally, tablets that cannot be dated have been included in Map 9.2 (pp. 160–161) in an attempt to provide the most complete picture of the use of katadesmoi in the Roman West.8 In the present analysis I make use of the traditional division of Roman history (i.e., Republic, Principate and Late Antiquity), though Harriet Flower has rightly pointed out the problems inherent in standard periodizations.9 I do so both because this makes the results more manageable for the reader, but also because the analysis fits well within this established scheme. 4 Versnel has been the most vocal critic of what Audollent (1904: xc) had dubbed “defixiones in fures, calumniatores et maledicos conversae”. He has questioned whether these texts are actually curses (see Versnel 2010 for an overview). The argument has been well answered by various scholars. For relevant discussions see Dreher 2012, Graf 1995: 155ff, Ogden 1999: 38, and Versnel 2012. As the discussion remains vibrant, I have not excluded this type of curse from the present analysis. 5 See Glossarium, 169. 6 On magical figurines and their use, see Faraone 1991, López Jimeno 2010 and Bailliot 2015. 7 Here I follow Sánchez Natalías 2012. 8 The sites with undated tablets have been made blue. 9 See Flower 2008: 5–9.

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Katadesmoi in the Republic (Sixth through First Centuries BCE; Map 9.1, p. 159)

The first curse tablets in the area that would become the Western Roman Empire in the subsequent centuries (and in fact the entire Mediterranean) were written in Greek, not Latin. The earliest katadesmoi can be dated between the sixth and fifth centuries BCE and come from Palermo and the necropolis of Buffa at Selinunte. After these earliest texts from Western Sicily, the island has offered up other examples. Although the tablets that can be dated around 500 BCE are few in number,10 the habit of writing curses on lead quickly took off in the region. In fact, 46 pieces, which amounts to more than half of the entire Sicilian corpus, can be securely dated between the sixth and fourth centuries BCE. While some of these pieces were discovered in Agrigento, Gela, and Himera, the bulk of the tablets dating to this period come from the sanctuary of Demeter Malophoros at Selinunte and from the necropolis of Passo Marinaro at Kamarina.11 In an overlapping—though importantly later—period, this magical praxis spread to the Italian peninsula. Though the earliest literary reference to magical practices in Italy is found in the XII Tablets,12 the oldest material evidence for curses in Greek-language can be dated to the fourth and third centuries BCE. These pieces come from both Etruria and southern Italy.13In this vein the discovery of two magical figurines from the Etruscan necropolis of Sovana is noteworthy: though found in a tomb from the seventh or sixth century BCE, these lead figurines have been dated to the fourth through third centuries BCE and represent a man and woman with their hands bound behind their backs.14 In Southern Italy a series of katadesmoi of similar date have been discovered 10 11 12 13

14

There are five curse tablets coming from Selinunte (SGD 94–96 and 111) and Palermo (NGCT 66) that fit this criteria. For Selinunte, see SGD 97–108, NGCT 64, 65, 67–73, and Bettarini nos. 1–5 and 9. For Camarina, see SGD 84–89; NGCT 54–58 and 62. For others of similar period see those from Agrigento (NGCT 63), Gela (SGD 90–91), and Hymera (SGD 177–178). See VIII A, where whoever “malum carmen incantassit” is to be punished. Interestingly, the oldest Latin defixiones are dated to the second century BCE and come from Pompeii (CIL IV 9251). As Poccetti has suggested, perhaps the practice of writing curses on lead comes to Rome later than other Italian communities because the Romans put more importance on the rite’s orality. See Poccetti 2002: 16–17 for the full discussion. For an overview of the curse tablets from Calabria (both Greek and Oscan) see the recently published essay by Poccetti and Lazzarini 2017. The inscription contains the names of the victims written on the left thigh of the man (zer … cecnas) and the left hip of the woman (Velia Satnea). See Faraone 1991: no. 18 and especially Massarelli 2014: 214–217.

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in the Greek colonies at Locri, Tarentum, Metapontum15 as well as at the Greek-Oscan site of Tiriolo (where two curse tablets, one in Greek and the other in Oscan were also found).16 Following the lead of Paolo Poccetti, the intercultural contact and exchange that took place along routes of colonization also provided the contexts for the diffusion of magical practices.17 This theory is supported by a series of Oscan tablets dated to the fourth through third centuries. Several of these betray Hellenic influence on both the level of language and ordinatio.18 Within this broader group, the site of Roccagloriosa deserves special mention, because the remains of fourteen sheets of lead have been uncovered in the sanctuary; one of these is undoubtedly a defixio.19 Assuming that the other 13 tablets served the same purpose, this collection from Roccagloriosa forms the largest and oldest corpus of curse tablets hailing from a sanctuary after those discovered at the temple of Demeter Malophoros at Selinunte. Turning back to tablets written in Greek, a fourth-century katadesmos comes from Antibes as well as a third-century text from the Phocean colony at Ampurias.20 This series of Greek tablets should be understood as products of Hellenic expansion. The oldest Carthaginian pieces, two Punic tablets found in the necropolises of Bir ez Zeitun and Doüimes, can be understood in a similar fashion. Though the first is hardly legible today,21 the second, which is dated to the third century BCE, has raised exciting questions about the origins of writing curses on lead tablets in North Africa. As Maria Giulia Amadasi has cogently argued, this second tablet betrays Hellenic influence; this theory rests on an invocation of Persephone (whose cult was introduced in Carthage by Sicilian Greeks), but also on the text’s use of formulae that mimic Attic katadesmoi.22 To sum up, the practice of writing Greek curses on lead tablets during the Early and Middle Republic first began in Magna Graecia whence it spread to other 15 16 17 18

19 20 21 22

For Locri, see SGD 123 and NGCT 83; for Taranto SGD 125 and 126; for Metaponto, SGD 124. The Greek tablet is NGCT 82; for the Oscan one, see Murano 2014: no. 14. See Poccetti 1993: 80 as well as Poccetti 1999: 555. Linguistically noteworthy is an Oscan tablet from Strongoli (see Murano 2014: no. 13) on which the victims’ names are declined as if in the Doric dialect. As far as technical matters are concerned, several tablets are written from right to left in contrast to normal Oscan practice (which is from left to right); on this, see Murano 2014: nos. 3 and 5. For the tablet from Roccagloriosa, see Murano 2014: no. 7. I thank Poccetti for details about these pieces (per litt.); today, their whereabouts are unknown. For Antibes, see SGD p. 18; for Ampurias, SGD 133. See DT 214. Clermont-Ganneau (apud Audollent) claimed that the piece was hardly legible immediately after its discovery. See Amadasi Guzzo 2003. This theory, however, has been challenged by Faraone et al. 2005, who argue that the tablet is part of the earliest Near Eastern “prayers for justice” (on this, see footnote 4 for further bibliography).

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settlements (whether Etruscan, Oscan, or Punic) along established colonization trade routes. In the Italian context, intercultural contact fostered “hybrid forms of performance” and “creative misunderstandings” which led to diverse adaptations of the same material, as Denis Feeney has recently suggested.23 Though no Latin tablets from this period are extent, the XII Tables’ mention of oral curses could fruitfully be taken as just one mode of partaking in the magical practices found throughout Magna Graecia already in the fifth century. During the final two centuries of the Republican era, the practice of writing curses, at least on durable materials, appears to have waned: only ten katadesmoi have been uncovered in Sicily in this period.24 Of these tablets, four were unearthed in separate locations and are dated between the second and first centuries BCE. The remaining six (dated more narrowly to the first century) form a larger cache uncovered in a small sacellum of the chthonic deity at Morgantina. In the Mediterranean provinces during the final centuries of the Republic, curses written in Greek are in fact quite rare. Until further archaeological work drastically alters this picture, only two further examples are currently known. The first comes from Hyères (ancient Olbia in Gallia Narbonensis) and the second from Ampurias.25 On the Italian peninsula, the presence of katadesmoi at this period is itself rather scarce. Among the few examples, we find a tablet dated to the second century BCE and uncovered at the old Greek colony at Reggio Calabria (ancient Rhegion).26 Eight magical figurines from the first century BCE have also been discovered at the necropolis at Pozzuoli. These terracotta figures are inscribed with the names of the victims in Greek characters.27 It is not until the first century BCE that the first two katadesmoi are attested within the city of Rome itself. Both were discovered in a funerary complex along the Via Ardeatina. As Gabriella Bevilacqua has argued, due to paleographical and material similarities, both were probably written by a single magical practitioner. The fact that the texts vary in content and intent only strengthens her suggestion that there was a professional magician out for hire. While the first is leveled against a group of foreign athletes and their staff, who apparently found themselves in Rome to take part in an “international” competition,28 the second takes aim at a teacher, his wife, and two other individuals for reasons that remain hazy.29 23 24 25 26 27 28 29

See Feeney 2016: 96–8. They come from Morgantina (SGD 116–121), Licata (ancient Pinthias, SGD 92), Lilibeo (Curbera 1999: no. 48 and 46) and Agrigento (SGD 93). For Hyéres, see NGCT 88; for Ampurias, SGD 135. See NGCT 81. In this regard, see DT 200–207 and also Faraone 1991: no. 20. See Bevilacqua 2014. See Bevilacqua 2015.

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If the habit of writing Greek curses on lead appears to have waned during the Late Republic, the phenomenon of inscribing tablets in Latin began to take off at the same time in Roman culture. From their first attestation in Pompeii, defixiones would spread across the entire Italian peninsula during the second and first centuries BCE. They would even become more ubiquitous and reach important settlements in the Iberian Peninsula. Until the archaeological record suggests the opposite, it appears that the Romans began to inscribe their curses at least by the second century. This development was certainly not ex nihilo: As Poccetti has previously suggested, the similarity of linguistic formulas in Latin and Oscan texts should be explained by close cultural contact between these different societies.30 In all likelihood, the progression of oral curses (attested in the law of the XII Tables) to written ones can be understood in the terms laid out by Feeney: that is, as a progressive reinvention or redefinition of the ritual itself influenced by the mutual interaction between Romans and other cultures.31 3

Katadesmoi during the Empire (from the Principate to the Crisis of the Third Century CE; Map 9.2, pp. 160–161)

In line with the general rhythm of “epigraphic culture,” the practice of writing curses on lead undoubtedly reached its height during the High Empire. Important factors for the diffusion of the practice include the so-called “Romanization” and the spread of writing throughout all the provinces of the Roman West. This trend is clearest among the Latin defixiones, half of which have been dated to this period. That said, even if it is the case that Latin curse tablets have been found throughout the entire area, a significant proportion of katadesmoi (49 of 189 pieces) were found in clusters at a limited number of sites.32 Thus, of the six lead tablets discovered in Sicily, half come from the necropolis of S. Placido at Messina, while the other half were found alone (one at Centorbi, one at Camarina, and the final one at Marsala).33 In a similar manner, the first and second centuries CE have yielded three katadesmoi from the city of Rome; all three come from two tombs situated along the Via Latina 30 31 32 33

See footnote 17. See Feeney 2016: 93: “what counts as Roman culture is continually being reinvented and redefined as a result of the mutual interaction between the Romans and other people with whom they progressively come into contact.” In fact, no katadesmoi have been discovered in Roman Britain, though the area has yielded hundreds of Latin texts. See SGD 112–114 for the tablets from Selinunte. The rest come from Centorbi (see SGD 115), Camarina (see NGCT 12) and Marsala (see SGD 110).

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near the Porta Ardeatina and within the Aurelian walls.34 Outside of the city, only two other Greek texts of similar date have been discovered—and both from Campania at that: one from a tomb at Cumae, the other in a sanctuary at Pozzuoli.35 Thus, it is fair to say that the discoveries of Sicilian and Italian katadesmoi in this period are few and far between. While during the first centuries of the Republican era most Greek curse tablets hail from Sicily, in the Principate majority of tablets come from Africa Proconsularis. In fact, Susa and especially Carthage became two nuclei of black magic: between the two cities, 33 Greek examples have emerged alongside 84 texts in Latin.36 Irrespective of language, the bulk of these tablets fall into the category of agonistic curses, which means that they are directed against rivals in the games (whether against gladiators, venatores, charioteers, or even their horses).37 Exactly why a given tablet was written in Latin or Greek remains a matter of dispute; nevertheless, it appears that the choice of a particular language is predicated on both the preferences of the professional magicians who produced the tablets and the identity of the victims. As far as the professionals are concerned, scholars have demonstrated that many of these magoi were the heirs of Greco-Egyptian magical traditions in which Greek (sometimes mixed with Latin) was considered especially powerful and effective for summoning divinities and daemones.38 When it comes to the victims, one must note that many charioteers betray origins from the Greek speaking part of the Empire. This might also have played a role in justifying the use of this language in the composition of these magical texts.39 4

Katadesmoi in Late Antiquity (Map 9.2, pp. 160–161)

Beginning in the third century CE, the habit of inscribing curses on lead plummeted throughout all provinces of the Roman West. This major shift equally affected all kind of texts, irrespective of the language they were written. Unless archaeology proves otherwise, discoveries of curse tablets in Late Antiquity 34 35 36 37 38 39

See NGCT 84, NGCT 85 and SGD 129, respectively. See DT 198 and 208, respectively. Furthermore, Jordan offers information on a third lead tablet from Hydrous dating the imperial period (SGD p. 181). For the Carthaginian tablets, see DT 234–257, SGD 138–143 and NGCT 90–92; for those from Susa, DT 264–299 and SGD 144–147. For a precise summary of the agonistic curses deposited in the Carthaginian amphitheater, see Rossiter 2016: 247–250 with further bibliography. On the archaeological context of the curses found in circuses, see the Heintz’s convincing discussion (1996). For instance, see DT 249 or NGCT 79, where Greek is used specifically for the invocation of the deities. See Gordon 2012 for further discussion.

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are indeed rare and scattered. While there had been a proliferation of texts from North Africa in the previous period, neither Carthage nor Susa has yet to yield any texts from the fourth century onwards. The areas closest to the Mediterranean Sea, then, are virtually devoid of this type of epigraphy in Late Antiquity.40 Despite this general decline, the city of Rome asserted itself as a major center for magical practices in the period. Accordingly, the collection of socalled “Sethian” curse tablets deserves special attention. Discovered in the late nineteenth-century in a columbarium near the Porta San Sebastiano, the collection is comprised of 48 tablets (5 in Latin, 43 in Greek) which can largely be categorized as agonistic. The texts are unparalleled in their invocations of oriental divinities, such as Osiris, and their impressive iconography, all of which betray a strong Greco-Egyptian influence.41 In addition to the “Sethian” cache, another collection discovered in the fountain of the Roman goddess Anna Perenna stands out. Made up of roughly 30 texts (20 in Latin, 10 mixing Greek and Latin), this assemblage constitutes an incredible example Late Antiquity’s magico-religious syncretism, since these texts are influenced by Jewish as well as Greco-Egyptian practices.42 5

Conclusions

As has been previously demonstrated, the habit of writing curses in the regions that would become the Western part of the Roman Empire has its origins in Magna Graecia. Indeed, the oldest texts from the sixth through fifth centuries BCE hail from Sicily, where and whence this magical practice spread in the centuries to come. Following Greek trade routes, this magical technology first made its way to the Iberian Peninsula, Gaul, North Africa as well as the Italian peninsula. Within Italy the practice of inscribing curses first spread from Greek communities to Oscan communities; then finally from Oscan to Roman society, as the tablets’ technical and formulaic similarities attest. During the High Empire and despite the fact that Greek katadesmoi are hardly attested in the Roman West, Latin and epichoric texts (Celtic, 40 41 42

Among the rare exceptions are two katadesmoi from Sicily (NGCT 60–61) as well as one coming from Lepcis Magna (SGD 149). The Greek ones are DT 145–188. For the iconography, see Wünsch’s editio princeps. On the sanctuary of Anna Perenna generally, see Piranomonte 2016. While waiting for a full monograph on the subject, see Piranomonte, Blänsdorf and Németh in Friggeri et al. 2012: 617–639. Besides these two noteworthy finds, there are two other tablets that can be dated to the fourth century CE, which were found in a columbarium near the villa Doria-Pamphili (NGCT 86 and 87).

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Bibliography Amadasi Guzzo, M.G. 2003. “Appunti sulla “tabella devotionis” KAI 89 da Cartagine.” InP. Xella and J.Á. Zamora, eds., Epigrafia e Religione: dal documento epigrafico al problema storico-religioso. Col. Studi Epigrafici sul Vicino Oriente Antico 20, 25–31, Rome. Audollent, A. 1904. Defixionum Tabellae. Quotquot innotuerunt tam in graecis orientis quem in totius occidentis partis praeter atticas. Paris. Bailliot, M. 2015. “Roman Magic Figurines from the Western Provinces of the Roman Empire: an Archaeological Survey.” Britannia 46: 93–110. Bevilacqua. G. 2014. “Athletai e palastai in una defixio greca di Roma.” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 188: 215–229. Bevilacqua, G. 2015. “Phileros e gli altri: una nuova defixio greca da Roma.” Archeologia Classica 66 n. s. 2, 5: 493–510. Bettarini, L. 2005. Corpus delle defixiones di Selinunte. Alessandria. Curbera, J. 1999. “Defixiones.” Annali della Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa 4–1: 159–72. Dreher, M. 2012. “« Prayers for Justice » and the Categorization of Curse Tablets.” In M. Piranomonte and F. Marco Simón, eds., Contextos mágicos/ Contesti magici. Atti del Convegno Internazionale. Roma, 4–6 novembre 2009, 29–32. Rome. Faraone, C. 1991. “Binding and burying the forces of evil: The defensive use of “voodoodolls” in Ancient Greece.” Classical Archaeology 2: 165–220. Faraone, C. Garnand B. and López-Ruiz, C. 2005. “Micah’s mother (Judg 17: 1–4) and a curse from Carthage (KAI 89): Canaanite precedents for Greek and Latin curses against thieves?” Journal of Near Eastern Studies 64.3: 161–86. Flower, H.A. 2008. Roman Republics. Princeton. Friggeri, R., Granino Cecere, M.G. and Gregori, G.L., eds., 2012. Terme di Diocleziano. La collezione epigrafica. Rome. Gordon, R. 2012. “Fixing the Race: Managing Risks in the North African Circus” In M. Piranomonte and F. Marco Simón, eds., Contextos mágicos/ Contesti magici. Atti del Convegno Internazionale. Roma, 4–6 novembre 2009, 47–74. Rome. Graf, F. 1995. La magia nel Mondo Antico.Rome. Heintz, F. 1998. “Circus curses and their archaeological contexts” Journal of Roman Archaeology 11: 337–42. Jordan, D.R. 1985. “A Survey on Greek defixiones not included in the special corpora.” Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 26: 151–97. Jordan, D.R. 2000. “New Greek Curse Tablets.” Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 41: 5–46. López Jimeno, A. 2010. “Una figurita de plomo hallada en Paros y otras figuritas de la magia maléfica.” MHNH. Revista Internacional de Investigación sobre Magia y Astrología Antiguas 10: 101–18.

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Marco Simón, F. 2012. “Power and evocation of the exotic: Bilingual magical texts in the Latin West.” In M. Piranomonte and F. Marco Simón, eds., Contextos mágicos/ Contesti magici. Atti del Convegno Internazionale. Roma, 4–6 novembre 2009, 135–45. Rome. Massarelli, R. 2014. I testi etruschi su piombo. Pisa-Rome. Murano, F. 2014. Le tabellae defixionum osche. Ricerche sulle Lingue di Frammentaria Attestazione 8. Florence. Ogden, D. 1999. “Binding spells: curse tablets and voodoo dolls.” In B. Ankarloo and S. Clark, eds., The Athlone History of Witchcraft and Magic in Europe, vol. 2, Ancient Greece and Rome. 3–90. Oxford. Piranomonte, M. 2016. “The discovery of the fountain of Anna Perenna and its importance on the study of ancient magic”, In G. Bąkowska-Czerner, A. Roccati and A. Świerzowska, eds., The Wisdom of Thoth: Magical Texts in Ancient Mediterranean Civilizations, 71–85. Oxford. Poccetti, P. 1993. “Aspetti e problemi della diffusione del latino in area italica.” In E. Campanile, ed., Caratteri e diffusione del latino in età arcaica, 73–96. Pisa. Poccetti, P. 1999. “Il metallo come supporto di iscrizioni nell’Italia antica: aree, lingue e tipologie testuali.” In F. Villar and F. Beltrán, eds., Pueblos, lenguas y escrituras de la Hispania Prerromana. Actas del VII Coloquio sobre Lenguas y Culturas Paleohispánicas (Zaragoza, 12 a 15 de marzo de 1997), 545–61. Salamanca. Poccetti, P. 2002. “Manipolazione della realtà e manipolazione della lingua: alcuni aspetti dei testi magici dell’Antichità.” In R. Morresi, ed., Linguaggio-linguaggi. Invenzione-scoperta. Atti del Convegno (Macerata-Fermi, 22–23 ottobre 1999), 11–59. Rome. Poccetti, P. and Lazzarini, M.L. 2017. “Le tabellae defixionis della Calabria tra IV e III sec. a. C.: una considerazione d’insieme” In De Sensi Sestito, G. and Mancuso, S. (eds.), Enotri e Bretii in Magna Grecia. Modi e forme di interazione culturale. Vol. II, T. 1, 221–280. Catanzaro. Rossiter, J. 2016. “In ampitzeatru Carthaginis: the Carthage amphitheatre and its uses” Journal of Roman Archaeology 29: 239–58. Sánchez Natalías, C. 2011. “Escribiendo una defixio: los textos de maldición a través de sus soportes.”Acta Classica Universitatis Scientiarum Debreceniensis 47: 79–93. Sánchez Natalías, C. 2012. “A cartography of defixiones in the Western Roman Empire.” In M. Piranomonte and F. Marco Simón (eds.), Contextos mágicos/ Contesti magici. Atti del Convegno Internazionale. Roma, 4–6 novembre 2009, 123–34. Rome. Vallarino, G. 2010. “Una tipologia di oggetti magici iscritti: una proposta di classificazione.” In G. Bevilacqua, ed., Scrittura e Magia. Un repertorio di oggetti iscritti della magia greco-romana, 21–82. Rome. Versnel, H.S. 2010. “Prayers for Justice East and West. New finds and publications.” In R. Gordon and F. Marco Simón, eds., Magical Practice in the Latin West, Papers

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from the International Conference held at the University of Zaragoza 30 Sept–1 Oct 2005, RRW 168, 275–354. Leiden. Versnel, H.S. 2012. “Response to a Critique”. In M. Piranomonte and F. Marco Simón, eds., Contextos mágicos/ Contesti magici. Atti del Convegno Internazionale. Roma, 4–6 novembre 2009, 33–46. Rome. Wünsch, R. 1898. Sethianische Verfluchungstafeln aus Rom. Leipzig.

Chapter 10

Graffiti in the So-Called College of Augustales at Herculaneum (Insula VI 21, 24): New Work from the Ancient Graffiti Project Stephanie Ann Frampton Ancient graffiti are known from ancient literature: Suetonius writes of slurs scrawled on a statue of Augustus at the time of his proscriptions, “My father dealt in silver, I deal in Corinthian bronzes” (i.e. stolen ones, Aug. 70.2).1 According to Suetonius and Dio, the graffiti against Nero after the assassination of his mother Agrippina were even worse: “Nero, Orestes, Alcmaeon: matricides” (Dio Cass. 62.16.2, cf. Suet. Nero 45.2). Such political messages appear frequently in political literature. But graffiti inscribed for more optimistic purposes are also common. In a letter to Trajan, Pliny the Younger reports visiting the temple of Clitumnus in Umbria and seeing it covered with “many inscriptions written by different persons on every pillar and every wall, in honor of the fountain and the god” (Ep. 8.8). We read too of graffiti used in amatory affairs. In the Greek Amores, the young man who has fallen in love with Praxiteles’s famous statue covers the island of Cnidus with his notes to her: “Every wall came to be inscribed with his messages and the bark of every tender tree told of fair Aphrodite” (pseudo-Lucian Am. 16). Lucian invents an exchange between two lovers left on a wall near the Dipylon Gate: “Melitta loves Hermotimus” and “Hermotimus the shipmaster loves Melitta” (Dial. meretr. 4.3). So too does Plautus’s Demphio refuse his son’s wish to bring the beloved girl into the household because, “Men on the street would serenade the house and fill my doors with elegies in charcoal” (Merc. 408–9). But Catullus and others would threaten their lovers with inscribed invective: “Across the whole front of your shop I will write sopiones” (meaning unclear, but perhaps to be taken as “phalluses,” 37.9–10). Such notices abound. 1 I am enormously grateful to Rebecca Benefiel and Jacqueline DiBiasie Sammons, directors of the Ancient Graffiti Project, for inviting me to participate in their 2014 field season and for making their data and images available to me for subsequent study. This publication would not have been possible without their hard work, encouragement, and input. Thanks go, as well, to the Soprintendenza Speciale per i Beni Archeologici di Pompei, Ercolano e Stabia for allowing us access to the site and to Carlos Noreña, Steven Ostrow, and the press’s anonymous readers for their invaluable comments on earlier drafts of this paper.

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When modern archeology began in earnest at Pompeii in the mid-nineteenth century, one of the signs of that change was increased attention to the graffiti found throughout the ancient city, above and beyond more obviously valuable artifacts and inscriptions. Addressing the Accademia Ercolanese in 1840, then director of Pompeian excavations Francesco Avellino described the first graffiti he ever saw in his walks through the scavi: a drawing of two gladiators, labeled Asteropaeus and Oceanus, inscribed on one of the columns of the House of the Labyrinth (subsequently CIL IV.1422).2 Claiming that ever since that time he “never neglect[ed] to study with diligence every trace of written graffiti on the walls,”3 Avellino appealed to his learned audience by comparing these marks of everyday men to better-known inscriptions in stone: Se un grand’ uomo nostro contemporaneo nel leggere le antiche inscrizioni in marmo ha con verità manifestata la sua meraviglia, osservando quanto frequentemente un pensiere ha potuto sopravvivere ad un impero, che non direbbe egli di questi leggieri e capricciosi segni, pe’ quali la bizarria anche di un momento, e la espressione stessa dello scherzo e della spensierataggine sopravvive all’ estermino della città, ed al cader delle nazioni?4 If a great man of our own time in reading ancient inscriptions in marble conceives with manifest truth their marvelousness, observing how frequently a thought was able to survive an empire, why should he not say the same of these light and capricious signs through which the very uniqueness of a moment and the particular expression of a joke and a carefree feeling also survive the destruction of a city and the fall of nations? Avellino calls such traces fuggitive espressioni: “fleeting expressions of private thoughts, of ideas, and of the caprices of a people that have been lost to us for eighteen centuries,” noting the irony that none of the writers themselves “had any knowledge that they would come to the attention of a remote posterity.”5 It is thanks to Francesco Avellino that large fragments of plaster covered with 2 Avellino 1841: 5. For the original publication, see Garrucci 1856: 68–70 and pl. XI.2. The drawing is reprinted with several parallels (e.g. CIL VI.8056) by Jacobelli 2003: 49–51. 3 Avellino 1841: 3. My translations. 4 Avellino 1841: 4–5. The “great man” he refers to is François-René de Chateaubriand, who had visited Pompeii in the early 1800s. On the significance of this passage, see Milnor 2014: 33–5. 5 Avellino 1841: 5.

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graffiti were removed from the ancient city and are preserved in the Naples Archeological Museum to this day (e.g. CIL IV.1807–1947b).6 But a far greater number of inscriptions remain on the walls of Pompeii, Herculaneum, and the other Vesuvian sites. Scholars today study the graffiti in situ, interpreting the ways in which these inscriptions—as much as wall paintings, mosaics, sculpture, lapidary texts, architectural decoration, and architecture itself—made up the visual fabric of the ancient city and the everyday lives of ancient people. They are indeed fleeting: often exposed to the elements and to the cavalier contact of tourist’s backpacks and inquisitive fingers. Where they have not disappeared completely, the great majority of the graffiti of ancient Campania are increasingly faint and continually under threat of further physical degradation, whether through environmental exposure or tourism. It is essential that these inscriptions be documented before they are permanently lost. The Graffiti of Insula VI 21, 24 at Herculaneum In summer 2014, the Ancient Graffiti Project began surveying and documenting the graffiti still extant in Herculaneum.7 Of particular interest was a series of graffiti found on a column in one of the most significant buildings exposed by the “nuovi scavi” of long-time director Amadeo Maiuri.8 Since the publication of the graffiti by Giuseppe Guadagno (1988),9 they have been used to shed light on the vexing question of the identity of the building, one that has persisted from the original Bourbon tunneling in the area in the period 1739– 45 through its full excavation in Maiuri’s final campaigns in 1960–1. Called by Maiuri the “Collegio degli Augustali”10 and by Cerulli Irelli an “aula pubblica di età imperiale,”11 based on lapidary dedications found in this building and its neighborhood (see below), Guadagno argued that it be identified as the “Aedes Augustalium,”12 or “Seat of the Augustales.” More recently, in an important

6 7 8 9 10 11 12

CIL IV, page 113 makes mention of Avellino detaching panels. Varone 2012 provides a catalogue with inventory numbers. For illustration of the clear legibility of graffiti preserved on one of these panels, see Benefiel 2008. For more information on this work, see Benefiel et al. in this volume. Maiuri’s campaigns ran from 1927 to 1963. See Maiuri 1958 and 1967. Guadagno 1988. Maiuri 1967: 49. Cerulli Irelli 1974: 14. Guadagno 1983.

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article on the “Monumental Centre of Herculaneum,”13 Andrew Wallace-Hadrill has reasoned that the building rather be identified as the town’s curia: an identification previously made by de Franciscis and even by Andrea di Jorio, an early director of the archeological museum, in 1827.14 Since the graffiti, as we shall see, refer three times to a “curia” and twice to an “Augustan curia” (CVRIA AVGVSTI and CVRIA AUGUSTINIA, see below), the revised readings presented here broadly support Wallace-Hadrill’s suggestion that the building be identified as “Curia Augustiana.”15 For the present discussion, it is perhaps most prudent to refer to the building by its archeological designation: Herculaneum Insula VI, Entrances 21, 24 (Figure 10.1). Insula VI 21, 24 is located near the northwesternmost corner of the Herculaneum excavations: the farthest reaches of the nuovi scavi and the last area excavated by Maiuri. Along with the other buildings in its immediate vicinity that are discussed below, this building was originally found in tunneling campaigns undertaken by the Bourbons in the 1730’s and 40’s.16 Along with its neighbors, VI 21, 24 occupies an area of the city that is a compelling candidate for the ancient town center, where a concentration of public architecture and imperial dedications has been found at the upper end of Cardo III, the middle-most east-west street of the ancient town, where it meets the decumanus maximus, the major north-south thoroughfare. The side entrance of our building from Cardo III (VI 24) directly faces one of the entrances of an even larger hall, usually identified as the Basilica Noniana.17 That name is mentioned in a wax-tablet document found in the records of L. Venidius Ennychus in the nearby House of the Black Salon (VI 13). This basilica is the find spot of the remarkable marble tablets listing Herculaneum’s Roman citizens.18 At the same time, the front entrance of our building from the decumanus maximus (VI 21) faces a monumental arch on the northwest side of the street that itself served as an entrance to a second and much larger basilica-like, peristyled structure that may have been the central forum. It is here that the majority of dedications to the imperial family by Augustales were found, many

13 14 15 16 17 18

Wallace-Hadrill 2011. De Franciscis 1970: 310. Di Jorio (1827: 41) refers to the two buildings flanking Cardo III on the south side of the Decumanus Maximus those “che io ho chiamato Curie.” Wallace-Hadrill 2011: 135–41, 157. Wallace-Hadrill 2011: 124. See Allrogen-Bedel 1974, Pagano 1996, Parslow 1998. E.g. Guidobaldi 2013: 35–8. Documents of L. Venidius Ennychus: Camodeca 2002 and 2006. Marble tablets: Pesando 2003.

Graffiti in the So-Called College of Augustales at Herculaneum 169

Figure 10.1

Plan of Insula VI 21,24 (credit: Mary Hale)

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of them in the early Bourbon campaigns.19 As part of Insula VI, our building itself is adjacent to several businesses and residences, including the House of the Etruscan Colonnade to the south and east, occupying the same city block as the large urban baths, all of which were unearthed in the nuovi scavi. Unlike the grand peristyled building it faces across the decumanus and the basilica it faces across Cardo III, both of which have been explored only via tunnels, VI 21, 24 is the single one of these large public meeting spaces to have been fully excavated to plein air. The structure itself is a large open hall with a raised platform at the back center, generally called the sacellum, or “shrine,” the walls of which form two additional cellae on either side.20 This raised area is reached by two stairs and richly decorated with opus sectile marble flooring, a central statue base, and a series of vibrant frescoes depicting episodes in the life of Hercules, encouraging its identification as a sacred area within the larger building.21 A wooden roof covered the entire room and was supported by two pilasters at the outer edge of the podium and by two freestanding columns to the west. On the inner side of both columns are statue bases on which were found dedications by the Augustales to Caesar and Augustus that have for some time lead to the association of the building with the imperial cult.22 The graffiti appear on the northwestern side of the northwestern column, at about chest height. Their position is indicated by the arrow in Figure 10.1. They are centered 103 cm from the ground and cover an area 26 cm tall and 28 cm across. On the one hand, the location of the graffiti-writers and their inscriptions were directly in the lines of sight and movement from either of the two entrances, VI 21 or 24. On the other hand, they were shielded from view of the podium by the very column that is the surface for their inscription. The graffiti are thus intriguingly exposed and hidden to different views and viewers within their architectural framework.23 Although the plaster is intact throughout the space, we found no other signs of ancient graffiti there. Thus, no other inscriptions, aside from the two statue bases already mentioned, can be said to belong to VI 21, 24 with certainty.24 19 20 21 22 23 24

Wallace-Hadrill 2011: 132, with Pagano 1996. Wallace-Hadrill 2011: 140 notes that the form resembles domestic architecture and is typologically unique. Wallace-Hardrill 2011: 139 proposes identifying this space as “templum.” DIVO IVLIO / AVGVSTALES and DIVO AVGVSTO / AVGVSTALES (CIL X.1411–12). See Laird 2015: 123, figure 46. See Benefiel 2010 and 2016, especially 98–102, regarding the placement of ancient graffiti in central, well-trafficked locations within elite residences. In this matter, I follow Wallace-Hadrill 2011: 136 who interprets the evidence surrounding the discovery of CIL X.1462, a negative impression of a lapidary inscription that documents the granting of space for a building by the decurions to the Augustales, as indicating

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In the original edition of the graffiti, Guadagno gave the following readings: 1) 2) 3) 4) 5)

a b C MESSENIVS EVNOMUS IN (?) CVRIA (?) MAMIVM ANICETVM/ ROGAMVS CVRIA AVGVSTIANA L ARRIV / S P FIL ARRIVS / P FIL IN CVRIA A(?) I(?) AVGVST(I)AN(A)

According to Guadagno, the graffiti were laid-out in five lines of writing by at least two different authors. In the cases of inscriptions 2 and 3, he observed each to have been written across two lines, with the first letter of the second text overlapping the last letter of the first.25 Antonio Varone revised Guadagno’s reading in 2000, making two significant suggestions for changes. First, he posited “AVS” in the middle of the fifth inscription and, second, proposed reading “SPAERVS” for the name Sphaerus rather than “S P FIL” in the second line of what Guadagno had seen as inscription 3. By adding the name Sphaerus, Varone increased the number of hands from a minimum of two to three.26 My apograph is given in Figure 10.2. It was made by digitally tracing images of the texts captured using reflectance-transformation imaging (RTI) technology, and precisely maintains the original arrangement and scale of the original inscriptions.27 Two transcriptions follow below. I first give a diplomatic transcription, attempting to capture the writing as one sees it on the column, and next a critical text and translation, offering what I believe to be a reconstruction of each writer’s contribution. As already observed by Guadagno and Varone, the individual inscriptions overlap in important ways, so I have found it particularly useful to

25 26 27

that the inscription was found in the Vico del Mare and not the immediate vicinity of VI 21, 24. Furthermore, I join Margaret Laird 2015: 114–18 in questioning the original position of a third lapidary dedication of a gift to Augustus by the brothers A. Lucius Proculus and A. Lucius Iulianus celebrated by a dinner for the decurions and Augustales (AE 1979, 169), an inscription that now hangs on the eastern wall of IV 21, 24 and that is firmly affiliated with it in the common imagination. Although the inscription was found in the sacellum of VI 21, 24, it was recovered at 3.5 meters above floor level; there is good reason to believe it is not original to the building, but was swept there in a wave of eruptive material from another location to the northeast. The reader may follow my apograph, given in Figure 10.2. Guadagno’s apograph: Guadagno 1988: 200. See Varone 2000: 277, figure 1, o–r. On the use of RTI at Herculaneum, see DiBiasie Sammons 2018.

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Apograph of graffiti

organize the critical text according to the different hands observed, labelled A–E. The texts are as follows: Text 1: Diplomatic transcription Line Text 1. C MESSENIVS EVNOMUS IM CVRIA 2. MAMIVM ANICETVM ARRIVS 3. ROCAMVS GVRIA AVGVSTINIA ỊAXEA 4. ARRIVS 5. ARRI VA 6. IN CURIA AVG AVGVSTI Text 2: Critical text Author Text A. C(aius) Messenius Eunomus i⸢n⸣ curia [line 1] “Gaius Messenius Eunomus in the curia” B. Mamium Anicetum ro⸢g⸣amus ⸢c⸣uria Augusti⟨a⟩n{i}a [lines 2 and 3] “We choose Mamius Anicetus (on behalf of?) the Augustan curia”

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C. D. E.

In curia {Aug} Augusti [line 6] “In the curia of Augustus” Arrius [line 2], Arrius [line 4], Arri va(le) [line 5] “Arrius,” “Arrius,” “Hello Arrius” Ịaxea [line 3] (A name? A sum?)

The alternative spellings of im for in (line 1), rocamus for rogamus (line 3), and guria for curia (line 3) should not be troubling: substitutions of nasals and inversions of velars are quite common in graffiti and papyri and do not present difficulties for interpretation.28 Similarly, the “AVG” (contra Varone “AVS”) in line 4 can be taken to be an accidental dittography resolved in the full writing of “AVGVSTI” that immediately follows. In each case, the original letterforms are quite clear when images are examined using RTI. The substitution of Augustiana for Augustinia in the standardization of Author B, line 3 deserves further comment. A great variety of forms of this adjective is attested epigraphically and paleographically, including Augustianus, Augustanus, Augustensis, Augusteus, and Augustinus.29 The spelling found here, however, appears to be an unicum. I have chosen “Augustiana” as a common form of the adjective in contemporary Latin that is close in orthography to what we find in the graffito and that closely parallels the name of the nearby Basilica Noniana for the critical transcription, but this reconstruction is ultimately speculative.30 Although the designation of the curia as “Augustus’s” is clear from the graffiti, the precise form or forms the name took for natives of Herculaneum in their spoken language remains for the time being somewhat obscure, given the sometimes indirect relationship between orthography and speech and the often variable use of genitives and possessive adjectives. Most surprisingly, in our examination of the graffiti in 2014, we found an entirely new inscription that we now add to the known group: another “ARRIVS” written in very small letters directly below the “CVRIA” of line 3. Comparison of this inscription with the short inscription found at the end of line 2 and the one hovering above the right-hand end line 6 reveals that indeed all were written in the same distinctive hand with long, elegant descenders and that all bear essentially the same message, “Arrius,” presumably the name of the 28 29 30

Varone 2000: 281 also reads “IM” for “IN” in line 1. TLL ad verbum Augustus, column 1409.50–1410.39, as well as the indices to CIL volumes IV and X. If the epithet were indeed Augustinia, Augusti in line 6 might then be read as an abbreviation.

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inscriber himself (Author D). What Guadagno took as “P FIL” in my line 5 is clearly seen in RTI images as the ligature of VA for vale, “greetings.”31 The short text that appears in yet another hand at the end of line 3 (Author E) is the most difficult to read. The distinct possibility that it has physically degraded between Varone’s viewing and ours might very well account for our reading of five characters against Varone’s seven. Based on the current state of the inscription, however, the reading “SPAERVS” is not possible. Our best reconstruction is “ỊAXEA,” which may be taken as part of a name (though none obviously presents itself) or a series of numerical signs. Both types are common in short wall inscriptions. The hand itself is distinctive, having somewhat straighter lines than usual, and is not common to any of the other inscriptions on the column. Our readings of the three longer inscriptions that make up the heart of this group are essentially unchanged from Guadagno’s, though because of the better visualization of paleographic features enabled by RTI, we are able to distinguish among the hands of three different authors whom I call A, B, and C. Comparison of written C’s and A’s, for example, across all three inscriptions shows that these letterforms are distinctive to each hand. By clarifying the paleography and orthography of all of the inscriptions with the aid of RTI images, we thus shed light on the surprising complexity of the inscription set and the interrelationships between several distinct writing acts. Rather than counting five lines of text, we count six. Rather than counting two or three authors, we count five. Rather than counting six writing acts, we count seven. Although inevitably questions linger about the precise readings of these texts and their meanings—such as the interpretation of the short inscription at the end of line 3 and the exact meaning of the words “rogamus curia” in the same line (see below)—a narrative of inscription-making begins to emerge. Three authors write in succession about the nature of their civic business in the building (Authors A, B, and C).32 A fourth author (D) responds to each of these by writing his own name immediately next to them: to the right (line 2), below (line 4), and above right (line 5). A fifth writer (E) similarly makes his mark to the right of Author C in line 3. What we see is the very social nature

31 32

The same author also uses a ligature of VS at the end of “ARRIVS” in line 4. The order in which these three inscriptions were written is not altogether clear, but one might deduce from the tendency of the other graffiti-writers (even our D and E) to write very close to existing inscriptions that the middle one (B) was not the last and may well have been the first.

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of ancient graffiti, and the tendency of ancient graffiti-writers to cluster their inscriptions as exchanges on small areas of plaster.33 Once we start to think about the order of writing acts, a few aspects of the inscriptional habit of ancient graffiti come into focus. In particular, there is a strong tendency—familiar from other kinds of paleographic evidence like the rare Latin letter from Oxyrhynchus (P. Oxy. XLIV.3208)—to elongate ascenders and descenders, as well as horizontal bars. In several cases these cross over other letters, as in the very wide final S of MESSENIVS (Author A, line 1) and the very tall A’s and R’s of ARRIVS (Author D, lines 2, 4, 5). Writing about this problem, Andrew Wallace-Hadrill raises the question: “why should the final ‘s’ of Arrius […] be written on the line below?”34 Rather than being a source of difficulty for our interpretation, this concatenation of writing acts on a single surface reflects a distinct aesthetic and social preference. It may not even be going too far to see the joining of letters and the joining of writers’ hands on the column as being a visual and physical manifestation of the assembly of men themselves, as a group of Herculaneans, participating in the collective civic action represented by the activity of the public hall. Should we not see their traces as intentional and interpretable signs that relate directly to the social uses of the space? This leads us to a final, critical point of discussion: that is, the interpretation of the central cluster of three longer inscriptions in relation to the identification of the building itself. Two of these longer inscriptions contain the phrase in curia: G. Messenius Eunomus in curia (Author A, line 1) and In curia Augustiana (Author C, line 6). The natural sense of the preposition with the ablative is locative, referring to the writers’ location in a place they call the curia rather than, for example, indicating that they are among the local senators.35 Given the use of the nominative (cf. Arrius, lines 2 and 4), it is natural to assume that G. Messenius Eunomus is the author of the text in line 1; there is no such information for Authors B and C. As for the longest one (Author B, lines 2–3), we immediately note its similarity to the painted electoral programmata familiar from Pompeii. Programmata generally follow a standard formula, giving the name of the candidate and the office he seeks in the accusative case followed by the name of the rogator in the nominative. The verb 33 34 35

Benefiel 2010 and 2011 discusses examples of graffiti in dialogue with one another. Wallace-Hadrill 2011: 137–8. Although a partitive reading is perhaps technically possible, I have found no instance of the phrase in curia having the sense of “among the curia” in over two hundred examples found in a survey of the PHI Latin corpus. It is epigraphically unique and does not appear in papyri. That is, wherever else we find it, in curia indicates position.

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(rogo/rogamus or oro vos faciatis, abbreviated OVF) is often only implied, but when it is included it directly follows the subject. Sometimes, but not always, a description of the cause is given. A well-known example is CIL IV.420: G. Iulium Polybium aed(ilem) o(ro) v(os) f(aciatis) panem bonum fert (“I ask that you elect Gaius Iulius Polybius as aedile; he makes good bread”). Our restored inscription reads: Mamium Anicetum rogamus curia Augustiana. Missing, of course, is the name of the office. Guadagno took curia Augustiana to be the office itself, interpreting the graffito to mean “We elect Mammius Anicetus to the Augustan curia.” But as Wallace-Hadrill noted,36 this reading is not altogether satisfactory and does not follow the general formula for such rogationes in which the office sought would be given as the object complement of the office seeker. The precise meaning remains unclear, though I tend to see this use of curia as generally circumstantial (and thus in the ablative case), and have translated it with a query as “on behalf of.”37 It is possible that an in, found in the two other graffiti, is missing from this one (“We choose Mamius Anicetus [in] the Augustan curia”), or that another meaning altogether was intended. Aside from prejudice against recognizing the presence of Augustales, who were commonly freedmen, in the space typically used for senatorial business, there are no pressing objections to identifying the building as a curia, and it is my position that it should be understood as one.38 To conclude, through careful autopsy and RTI imaging, we have been able to develop the clearest rendering of the graffiti to date, establishing the overall layout, orthography, and paleography of this fascinating group of inscriptions which provide evidence for the identification of an important public building. Our readings support Wallace-Hadrill’s proposal to take Herculaneum VI 21, 24 as a curia dedicated to Augustus. But even more, they reveal the traces of five different authors who left their mark in this ancient city a little more than eighteen centuries ago, filling the meeting hall once again with the clamor of their words.

36 37 38

Wallace-Hadrill 2011: 82. Although is it technically possible to take curia Augustiana as the subject of rogamus, the use of curia as the collective noun akin to senatus seems to arise only in the second century. See TLL s.v. curia. E.g. Guadagno 1988: 201: “Nel mondo romano il termine curia assume un … significato sempre in riferimento al Senato.” See Ostrow 1985 and Laird 2015 on the status of Augustales in Campania.

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Bibliography Allroggen-Bedel, A. 1974. “Das Sogenannte Forum von Herculaneum Und Die Borbonischen Grabungen von 1739.” Cronache Ercolanesi 4: 97–109. Avellino, F.M. 1841. Osservazioni Sopra Alcune Iscrizioni E Disegni Graffiti Sulle Mura Di Pompei. Memorie della reale Accademia Ercolanese, 5. Naples. Benefiel, R. 2011. “Dialogues of Graffiti in the House of the Four Styles at Pompeii (Casa Dei Quattro Stili, I. 8.17, 11).” In J.A. Baird and C. Taylor, eds., Ancient Graffiti in Context, 20–48. London. Benefiel, R. 2010. “Dialogues of Ancient Graffiti in the House of Maius Castricius in Pompeii.” American Journal of Archaeology 114 (1): 59–101. Benefiel, R. 2015. “The Culture of Writing Graffiti within Domestic Spaces at Pompeii.” In Inscriptions in the Private Sphere in the Greco-Roman World, edited by Peter Keegan and Rebecca Benefiel, 80–110. Leiden: Brill. Benefiel, R. 2008. “Amianth, a Ball-Game, and Making One’s Mark : CIL IV 1936 and 1936a.” Zeitschrift Für Papyrologie Und Epigraphik 167: 193–200. Camodeca, G. 2002. “Per Una Riedizione Dell’archivio Ercolanese Di L. Venidius Ennychus.” Cronache Ercolanesi 32: 257–80. Camodeca, G. 2006. “Per Una Riedizione Dell’archivio Ercolanese Di L. Venidius Ennychus. 2.” Cronache Ercolanesi 36: 198–211. Cerulli Irelli, G. 1974. La casa del colonnato tuscanico ad Ercolano. Napoli. DiBiasie, J. 2018. “Application of Reflectance Transformation Imaging (RTI) to to the study of ancient graffiti from Herculaneum, Italy” Journal of Archaeological Science: Reports 17 (2018): 184–194. Garrucci, R. 1856. Graffiti de Pompéi: inscriptions et Gravures Tracées Au Stylet. 2nd ed. Paris. Guadagno, G. 1983. “Herculanensium Augustalium Aedes.” Cronache Ercolanesi 13: 159. Guadagno, G. 1988. “I graffiti della Aedes Augustalium: documenti sull’accesso all’augustalità.” Cronache Ercolanesi 18: 199. Guidobaldi, M.P. 2013. Herculaneum: Art of a Buried City. 1st ed.; English-language ed., New York. Jacobelli, L. 2003. Gladiators at Pompeii. Rome. Jorio, A. de. 1827. Notizie Su Gli Scavi Di Ercolano. Napoli. Laird, M.L. 2015. Civic Monuments and the Augustales in Roman Italy. Cambridge. Maiuri, A. 1958. Ercolano: i nuovi scavi (1927–1958). Roma. Maiuri, A. 1967. Ercolano. Roma. Milnor, K. 2014. Graffiti and the Literary Landscape in Roman Pompeii. Oxford. Ostrow S.E. 1985. “Augustales along the Bay of Naples. A Case for Their Early Growth.” Historia 34: 64–101.

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Pagano, M. 1996. “La Nuova Pianta Della Città E Di Alcuni Edifici Pubblici Di Ercolano.” Cronache Ercolanesi 26: 229–62. Parslow, C.C. 1998. Rediscovering Antiquity: Karl Weber and the Excavation of Herculaneum, Pompeii, and Stabiae. Cambridge. Pesando, F. 2003. “Appunti Sulla Cosiddetta Basilica Di Ercolano.” Cronache Ercolanesi 33: 331–37. Varone, A. 2000. “Spigolature Epigrafiche Ercolanesi.” Rivista Di Studi Pompeiani 11: 276–81. Varone, A. 2012. Titulorum graphio exaratorum qui in C.I.L. vol. IV collecti sunt unt : imag. Studi della Soprintendenza archeologica di Pompei 31. Roma. Wallace-Hadrill, A. 2011. “The Monumental Centre of Herculaneum: In Search of the Identities of the Public Buildings.” Journal of Roman Archaeology 24 (2): 121–60.

Chapter 11

Wall Inscriptions in the Ancient City: The Ancient Graffiti Project Rebecca Benefiel, Holly Sypniewski, and Erika Zimmermann Damer The sites of Pompeii and Herculaneum, destroyed in the volcanic eruption of Mt. Vesuvius in 79 CE, provide remarkable insight into the presence of writing in the ancient city. The plaster that covered the walls of these cities, inside and out, has yielded not only the majority of wall-paintings from the ancient world but also thousands of written messages—both official, publicly posted, painted announcements (dipinti), and unofficial, individually handwritten messages that were scratched into wall-plaster (graffiti). The painted inscriptions (dipinti), consisting of myriad political campaign posters and advertisements for gladiatorial games, contain standardized information, fertile and abundant material for understanding the rising prominence of elite families, annual elections, and local government more generally. The richness of this material is made clear by a recent series of monographs devoted to the study of these painted inscriptions.1 The handwritten inscriptions (graffiti) likewise provide abundant, fascinating material for exploration, but they represent the opposite of standardized information. Rather, they are as variegated as the people who wrote them—heterogeneous in content, format, handwriting, and expression. Certain groups of graffiti have received excellent treatment, in particular erotic graffiti and poetic graffiti, but multiple factors hinder attempts to study ancient graffiti collectively and therefore to understand the phenomenon as a whole.2 The Ancient Graffiti Project, henceforth AGP, has been designed precisely to break down barriers to the study of ancient graffiti and to facilitate new avenues of research in this field through the use of digital tools.3 1 Monographs: Castren 1975, Franklin 1980, Sabbatini Tumolesi 1980, Mouritsen 1988, Franklin 2001, Chiavia 2002. Recent articles exploring the painted inscriptions include Amodio 1996, Biundo 1996, Campanile 1996, Bernstein 1988, Mouritsen and Gradel 1991, Mouritsen 1999, and Biundo 2003. 2 Some of the difficulties encountered in understanding this extremely varied material are enumerated in the reviews of Rex Wallace’s Introduction to Wall-Inscriptions (2005). Cf. Kruschwitz 2005 and Solin 2010. For the erotic graffiti, see Varone 1994; for poetic graffiti, Gigante 1979 and Milnor 2014. 3 The AGP can be accessed online at http://ancientgraffiti.org.

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Epigraphy has been at the forefront of digital humanities. With longstanding digital databases that are increasingly robust and the creation of new epigraphic projects, the field continues to grow and offer ever greater resources.4 Latin epigraphy is now extremely well served by the portal launched in September 2015 by the Europeana network of Ancient Greek and Latin Epigraphy, henceforth EAGLE. EAGLE unites the epigraphic collections of twenty-four different projects.5 Hundreds of thousands of inscriptions from antiquity are now accessible from any point in the world served by a digital device and an internet connection.6 In addition to a single portal that provides search functions for this vast quantity of inscriptions, EAGLE also includes a path back to the individual contributing projects, each offering a framework tailored to their specific set of inscriptions.7 The benefits of electronic publication and digital tools can be applied to ancient graffiti with profit as well. The ancient graffiti of Pompeii and Herculaneum number in the thousands; they are spread out across the entirety of each city; they contain a vast array of content and form; and they are each unique, sometimes similar but never the same. Even a quotation of a well-known saying can vary at each instance (cf. quisquis amat valeat vs. cuscus amat vs. quis amat).8 Moreover, ancient graffiti—individualized, handwritten, brief, and colloquial—can themselves be mystifying. At present it is difficult, if not prohibitively so, to study the whole of ancient graffiti collectively. Reference tools for ancient graffiti are rather sparser than for other epigraphic fields. Before Antonio Varone published two valuable reference works, the most useful tool for the study of ancient graffiti were the indices of CIL IV, Supplementum 2, published in 1909.9 The fascicles of CIL IV, Supplementum 3, which included the wall inscriptions of Herculaneum, were never equipped with indices that would allow a reader to locate particular types of graffiti. As 4 For excellent discussions of developments in the field of digital epigraphy, see especially Bodel 2012, and Cayless et al. 2009. 5 The EAGLE search engine can be accessed online at https://www.eagle-network.eu/ basic-search/. 6 As of June 28, 2018, the EAGLE portal lists 590,775 artifacts (480,428 unique results). 7 The range of projects spans the ancient world. From Vindolanda Tablets Online to the Inscriptions of Israel/Palestine, many other projects now complement the three major founding partners: the Epigraphic Database Heidelberg, the EDR, and the Epigraphic Database Bari. 8 Several variations on this epigram are found inscribed across Pompeii. Cf. Corbier 2016, Milnor 2014: 185–87, Benefiel 2011: 35, Milnor 2009: 301–3, Varone 2002: 28, and 62–63. Compare also the variations among three instances of the epigram that begins Admiror paries te … (CIL IV 1904, Add. p. 213, 465; CIL IV 2461 Add. p. 223, 466; CIL IV 2487). 9 Varone and Stefani 2009, and Varone 2012.

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interest in ancient graffiti has sharply increased in recent years, now is an ideal time to develop reference tools that can aid scholarship.10 This chapter will address three main obstacles that currently impede the study of ancient graffiti: 1) Difficulties determining the location of graffiti, 2) Separate treatment of textual and figural graffiti, or drawings, and 3) An almost total absence of visual illustration. These are three areas in which we have designed the AGP to improve upon current resources and to facilitate research queries that are presently difficult, if not impossible, to pursue. By making available the digital resources of the AGP, we hope to increase scholarly and public engagement with this rich collection of handwritten Roman texts. 1

Challenge: Determining the Location of Ancient Graffiti

Perhaps the single largest obstacle to studying ancient graffiti collectively is the challenge of determining location. As James L. Franklin, Jr. noted in his seminal article on Roman literacy, “the key to understanding [graffiti]… lies in a thorough knowledge of the topography of the site.” Since few scholars have that opportunity, he notes, the material “remains largely neglected”.11 Location does indeed pose a fundamental difficulty to studying ancient graffiti. Pompeii and Herculaneum have been excavated over a period of two hundred years and methods of excavation and publication have shifted significantly during that time. The size of Pompeii is enormous with more than 100 excavated city-blocks, or insulae. For some inscriptions the provenance is lost; this is particularly the case for inscriptions discovered during the earliest phases of the excavations, the location of which must therefore be listed as uncertain (locorum incertorum). For others, structures have been re-identified over the course of excavation, which affected early entries that were pegged to building names. CIL IV 1762, for example, is recorded as having been found in the temple of Venus (in templo Veneris), a building that was subsequently identified as the

10

11

Cf. Courrier and Dedieu 2012. The past two decades have witnessed a surge of scholarship on the incised wall-inscriptions of Pompeii and Herculaneum, including Benefiel 2010a, 2011, 2012, 2016; Cugusi 1985, 2008; Franklin 1986, 1987, 1991; Garraffoni 2008; Guadagno 1988; Kruschwitz and Campbell 2009; Kruschwitz 2006, 2008, 2010; Langner 2001; Lebek 1976, 1985; Levin-Richardson 2011, 2013; Milnor 2009, 2014; Panciera 2011; Ruiz Gutiérrez 2009; Solin 2008, 2012, 2013; Varone 1994, 1996, 1999, 2000, 2005, 2012. Franklin 1991: 77.

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Figure 11.1

Detail of the map originally published with CIL IV (1871)

Temple of Apollo (address: VII.7.32), and therefore in a different area of the site from what is now identified as the Temple of Venus (address: VIII.1.3). A more formidable challenge is the change in the system of addresses that occurred after the initial publication of CIL IV. In the late nineteenth century, Giuseppe Fiorelli reorganized the site of Pompeii so that each building was given a unique, tripartite address based on its regio, insula, and ostium. So, taberna #21, site of CIL IV 2320, cannot be found on a current map of Pompeii. Instead, one must turn to the plan that was published with the first issue of CIL IV in 1871 (Fig. 11.1). Among the numbered entrances, and buildings both numbered and unnumbered, one can eventually find taberna #21 and then correlate it with the modern address system to discover that the message “Felix, this is the place” was written at VII.2.13. To complicate matters further, the original plan of Pompeii is no longer included in reprints of CIL IV, so if the volume were purchased after 1950, one is left without the plan to which more than 3000 wall-inscriptions are keyed. The shift from one system to another is only one correlation to be made. After the reorganization of Pompeii into nine regiones and the publication of CIL IV Supplements 1 and 2, additional changes occurred. Nineteen insulae were eventually renumbered, and a number of other changes were made.12 It is consequently quite easy to end up with the wrong location for a graffito. 12

Cf. Jashemski 1975, Franklin 1991: 78–79.

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Secondly, once the location of a graffito has been determined, additional steps are required to locate other graffiti in the immediate area.13 Since excavators might discover additional graffiti years or decades later, the subsequent discoveries would appear later in CIL, as do corrected readings of graffiti, with the result that graffiti from a single building might be listed in several different locations. Graffiti from Regio VIII, Insula 5, for example, are found at CIL IV 2043–2046, 3096, 4296–4041, and 10212a-b. Alphabetic graffiti were also separated out. Collecting all graffiti from a particular location therefore can require working through much of CIL IV, and certainly requires tenacity and patience.14 Yet the rewards of locating these graffiti can be great. We are incredibly fortunate with the survival of ancient graffiti in that we are generally in a position to know a great deal about their original location. Stone inscriptions have often survived through reuse, and so have been moved from their original find spot. But an ancient graffito survives only if the wall that holds it survives, and can therefore yield significant contextual information. With Pompeii and Herculaneum, we have not only the wall, but often the entire building and indeed much of the city, thereby providing scholars with a potential wealth of information about the likelihood of graffiti to cluster, the types of locations likely to feature such writings, and indeed the density and distribution of graffiti across the ancient city. Yet tapping into that information remains an enormous challenge. 1.1 Solution: Geo-referenced, Interactive Maps and Fieldwork The AGP helps address the difficulties of determining location by correlating each CIL record with the current system of Pompeian addresses and then incorporating this information into a tool for location-specific searches. Interactive maps of Pompeii and Herculaneum are featured prominently on the AGP launch page (Fig. 11.2) to communicate the availability of this type of function and the capability to perform a range of location-specific searches. One can study all the graffiti from a particular property with a single click or search multiple locations in a single query by selecting several buildings. Users can also build queries or limit results to search an entire city-block, multiple insulae, an entire regio of Pompeii, or other areas within these two ancient cities. 13 14

For an example of the value of being able to analyze graffiti that appear nearby or across the street from each other, see Benefiel 2010b, which explores clusters of wall-inscriptions in Rome. Franklin 1991: 78 notes that the fascicles of CIL IV Supp. 3, published in 1970, record graffiti found through 1956. Subsequent discoveries of graffiti appear in a handful of publications including Guadagno 1988, Giordano and Casale 1990, and Varone 2000a and 2000b.

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Figure 11.2

Homepage of the Ancient Graffiti Project

The AGP thereby offers users the ability to visualize where graffiti were found. Since we have a great deal of information about individual properties in Pompeii and Herculaneum, our platform also allows users to search by the type of space. By collating key reference works on Pompeii and Herculaneum we have associated a categorization with each property whenever possible.15 This categorization underlies the “Search by Property Type,” a filter available when a user wishes to refine results after an initial search or after browsing all of the inscriptions in the database. Property types currently include house, inn, sacred space, public building, shop, tavern, and workshop. Working with a digital platform it is possible to expand and refine these categories as further tools are developed. These categorizations offer an enhanced foundation for studying graffiti, providing users of the AGP database with the ability to search graffiti by the type of space in which they are found. A user can, for example, search for all graffiti that appear in shops and in houses and then compare the inscriptions found within commercial and domestic spaces. It is also possible to search for all graffiti in public locations, both public buildings and building facades. This marks a break from the manner in which graffiti on exterior walls had been associated with the building that lay behind the facade. Indeed facades were not the equivalent of the front of a private house; rather, the exterior wall is more closely connected to the street it faces than to the property 15

For Pompeii, especially: Pugliese Caratelli 1990–2003, Eschebach and Müller-Trollius 1993. For Herculaneum: Monteix 2010, Wallace-Hadrill 2011, Guidobaldi and Esposito 2012.

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behind it. Categorizing building facades as public spaces will help researchers distinguish between graffiti inside buildings, written for more restricted audiences, and those written on exterior locations and available to passersby on the street. 2

Challenge: Integration of Textual and Non-textual Graffiti

The original objective of the CIL focused on documenting the text of inscriptions. On the walls of Pompeii and Herculaneum that text was sometimes found alongside drawings that were likewise sketched by hand, as was the case when a fan drew a picture of his favorite gladiator and labeled the drawing with the gladiator’s name and record of wins (CIL IV 8055). In a few instances, a message was itself inscribed to resemble the shape of an object. Names were written in the form of boats (cf. CIL IV 8020), a message about power was inscribed in the outline of a dagger (CIL IV 2396, 2397), and a game of word play was written with twists and turns to evoke the appearance of a snake (CIL IV 1595). Other drawings were sketched on the walls with no obvious connection to text and were thus not documented in CIL IV. These include motifs that were popular to draw such as heads in profile, gladiators, boats, and animals.16 Despite the fact that writing and drawing on a wall were similar, sometimes related, activities, it is difficult to study figural and textual graffiti together. CIL IV did not devote entries to figural graffiti. Instead, such drawings were sometimes mentioned within an entry for a textual graffito. In the first edition of CIL IV, figural graffiti were recorded when they were understood to be closely related to nearby text. A single-word or brief description of an image (e.g. gladiator, corona) might be inserted into an entry to denote the layout of text and image (cf. CIL IV 1517). In subsequent supplements of CIL IV, the presence of figural graffiti in the same room or general location might be mentioned in a note above or below the entry for a textual graffito, whether or not the inscriptions were related. That editorial practice made graffiti drawings appear ancillary to an associated textual graffito. However, in many cases it is far from clear that drawings and textual graffiti are related. In the Casa del Gran Portale at Herculaneum, for example, an alphabet was inscribed on a wall; nine gladiator helmets and a small phallus were sketched on the same wall and are mentioned in the editorial note above the alphabet at CIL IV 10711. Yet the drawings appear at some distance from the alphabet, and someone looking at the wall 16

For a full analysis of the motifs of figural graffiti, see Langner 2001.

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Figure 11.3

Locations of graffiti in the Casa del Gran Portale, Herculaneum

would be unlikely to associate the gladiators’ helmets with the alphabet as a group (Fig. 11.3).17 In most cases, a brief description of a figural graffito was all that was recorded rather than any type of visual depiction, and many inscriptions have now disappeared. In the absence of an image, it can be difficult to understand exactly what the drawing depicted, as when CIL describes a drawing of “the head of a sick man turned toward the left” (hominis aegri caput ad sin. conversum; CIL IV 9003).18 CIL IV therefore provides a starting point, but locating figural graffiti or attempting to consider textual and figural inscriptions together requires combing through the notes of thousands of entries 17 18

We were unable to find the small phallus either in 2014 or 2016 during our fieldwork at Herculaneum. The interpretation of the drawing, as a portrait of a certain Fortunatus, since the letters FORT were inscribed nearby, is likewise far from certain. For other difficulties in associations with drawings of heads, see Benefiel and Sypniewski 2016.

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carefully and with an awareness that images and texts grouped in CIL IV may not actually be related. The fact that Pompeii and Herculaneum were not alone in preserving such hand-sketched drawings from antiquity was made clear by the publication of Martin Langner’s catalogue of figural graffiti from across the Mediterranean world.19 The graffiti drawings of Pompeii and Herculaneum loom large, contributing nearly one-third of his total, but significant numbers of figural graffiti also come from Delos, Dura-Europos, and other locations. Langner compiled his collection by working through references in previous publications; he also visited sites and recorded unpublished examples he found. Circles drawn with a compass, for example, are rarely mentioned in CIL, yet Langner documented thirty-six examples at Pompeii.20 Langner’s study thus helpfully expands upon the figural graffiti documented in CIL IV, but does not replace it. His collection does not include all imagery and it excludes simple drawings such as those depicting phalli, palm fronds, or coronae. The total number of figural graffiti from these sites can only be reached by combining both sources. In sum, figural graffiti are presently difficult to locate, quantify, and understand in relation to other texts in their inscribed context. Solution: Integration of Textual and Figural Graffiti, Multiple Pathways for Searching and Browsing As a result, it is virtually impossible to analyze textual and figural graffiti visà-vis each other or even to determine if one was preferred over the other. Our solution is to document fully and digitize both types of evidence, the figural graffiti as well as handwritten texts. By combining the figural graffiti from CIL with those documented by Langner, we are documenting the comprehensive set of figural graffiti from Pompeii and Herculaneum in a single linked digital resource with a richer context. The question of exactly how to digitize visual images for traditional textbased search engines then arose. Since epigraphic databases are generally predicated on searching for specific text, we had to create a mechanism for the retrieval of images. Our solution was to develop several possible routes to search for and retrieve these drawings, and our efforts involved attempting to anticipate the ways in which users may want to interact with these graffiti drawings. Our first decision was to create an individual entry for each figural graffito, separate from any text that it might be associated with in CIL. We then 2.1

19 20

Langner 2001. Seven of the thirty-six are mentioned in CIL IV (Langner 2001, nos. 43, 66, 93, 118–120, and 133).

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designed a way to describe drawings to be retrievable. We describe the image in Latin, following the conventions of CIL IV, and then also provide a translation into English to make the database accessible to a wider range of users. A drawing of a gladiator helmet could then be located via text fields either as “galea” or “helmet”. These text-based searches work best if one already knows that something exists. But who would think to search, for example, for a camel?21 We have therefore identified nine broad categories to make visible the type of images that are present (animals, boats, erotic images, geometric designs, gladiators, human figures, plants, other). We have also highlighted the fact that figural graffiti are available by making “Browse Figural Graffiti” one of the main menu options at the top of the AGP launch page. Finally, we are currently designing an additional search mechanism using tags or additional descriptors that will allow for more specific searches. 3

Challenge: Lack of Illustration

Illustrations are often restricted in traditional print publications by cost and space limitations, and illustration has been almost completely absent for the study of ancient graffiti of Pompeii and Herculaneum. At the time CIL IV was first being produced, in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, photographic illustration was sparse in any publication.22 The result was that these idiosyncratic inscriptions, handwritten by individuals, were “flattened” by being represented as typescript on a printed page. This type of presentation limited the types of questions scholars could ask. Studies were necessarily restricted to the content of graffiti, and generally focused on what ancient graffiti said, rather than how they communicated their message. The visual impact of these inscriptions, their aesthetic presentation, even the palaeography of ancient graffiti had been questions that remained out of reach. Yet Vesuvian graffiti offer a rich collection of material that could be compared profitably with other documents handwritten in Latin, such as papyri, wax tablets, wooden tablets, or inscribed instrumentum domesticum. 21 22

The camel graffito is now available both on EDR (EDR144514) and at AGP: http://ancient graffiti.org/Graffiti/graffito/AGP-EDR144514. The more recent supplements of CIL published in the twenty-first century have included fine photographs of certain inscriptions, sometimes with additional illustrations on microfiche, cf. CIL II2 pars V, pars VII, and pars XIV. Even today, however, illustrations can be costly, so an accompanying website was created to provide additional illustration for the inscriptions of Hispania: http://www3.uah.es/imagines_cilii/InfoGnrl_esp.htm.

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Figure 11.4

Table of line-drawings from CIL IV (1871)

The editors of CIL IV did create schematic line-drawings for certain graffiti, published in the tables that followed the indices for the first issue of CIL IV (Fig. 11.4). Unfortunately, as discussed above with the original map of the site, these tables are no longer issued in reprinted copies of CIL IV. Scanned images are retrievable via Arachne, the central object database of the German Archaeological Institute, but this provides little value since the line-drawings were made in relative scale to the original inscription (e.g. ⅓ scale or ⅖ scale) and the volumes of CIL IV were folios that have been reduced to fit the screen of the TEI-viewer for Arachne. In addition, even with the fifty-five plates dedicated to line-drawings of dipinti, graffiti, inscriptions on vasa fictilia, and mason’s marks, space constraints forced editors to arrange the line-drawings into a tight mosaic. This sometimes makes it unclear where one inscription ends and another begins. Consequently it takes time to realize that the linedrawings in these plates are arranged not as the graffiti appeared on the wall, but rather to maximize the number that could fit on a single page, such that images were placed where they could fit most efficiently. These line-drawings were created for only a fraction of the graffiti from Pompeii; few were created in the subsequent supplements of CIL IV.23

23

A handful of line-drawings appear among the graffiti of Herculaneum, several of which represent character forms where a reading cannot be determined (CIL IV 10522, 10554– 10556, 10672).

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Antonio Varone’s 2012 publication of photographs of all extant graffiti from Pompeii and Herculaneum marks a milestone in the documentation of graffiti, providing the first photographic illustration of these documents.24 His twovolume work provides a black and white photograph of each graffito at the time of his photographic campaigns (Herculaneum in 1994, Pompeii over the following decade), and gives additional information about its subsequent condition (if, for example, it has perished between photography and publication of the volume), and in certain cases improved readings. For the first time, scholars have an idea of whether or not they can expect to find a graffito still extant, since many graffiti have vanished over the past two centuries, as the plaster that once held them has crumbled away. As Varone’s work demonstrates, at least traces of a fair number of graffiti remain. 3.1 Solution: Photographs, Enhanced Images, and Line Drawings A digital platform offers greatly expanded possibilities for visual illustration since neither cost nor space limitations constitute problems in the digital realm. We can provide images in color and, with virtually no limit on space, we can provide multiple images of each graffito. This allows us to create and display as many images as we would like, so that we can offer different types of illustration including photographs, enhanced images, and line drawings. Expansive capacity is especially welcome when it comes to illustration of ancient graffiti. These inscriptions are extremely difficult to capture in a photograph. Indeed, even in person it is easy to pass by ancient graffiti and not even notice their presence.25 We have therefore determined to offer enhanced images wherever possible.26 By offering a photograph alongside an enhanced image, we can highlight the presence of the graffito and make it more legible while still providing the original, unaltered photograph. A line drawing provides one additional view of the inscription itself, stripped of competing background or of any damage to the wall surface, both of which greatly diminish legibility. With all three types of illustration (photographs, enhanced images,

24 25 26

Varone 2012. Benefiel 2016. Ancient graffiti can be frustratingly difficult to capture in a photograph because they are small and incised shallowly. Contrast can be minimal, while damage to the surface of the wall, such as incrustations, breaks in plaster, and alien scratches, impacts visibility and legibility. We have now conducted two seasons of fieldwork in Herculaneum to document the preservation status of graffiti in situ, and the images we have created will be incorporated into the AGP.

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and line drawings), a viewer comes to a greater understanding of the graffito in its immediate context as well as the aesthetics of the inscription itself. With the greater capacity for illustration, we can also offer an overview image of a group of inscriptions. This type of image allows the user to view the spatial relationships among graffiti, as well as the relative size of each in relation to each other. Graffiti tend to cluster frequently, and CIL IV attempted to relate inscriptions with directions such as infra, pone, ad d. Such verbal descriptions make accuracy difficult. Graffito A may be below Graffito B, but by how much? Immediately below? 10 cm. below? Or 1 m. below? In such cases a picture is worth many words. By offering more comprehensive illustration of ancient graffiti, our project provides access to these forms of ancient handwriting and opens new avenues of study into the palaeography of graffiti. Graffiti in their context are not tidy lines of text as printed in CIL. Illustration now can show when they are written vertically, diagonally, or horizontally, and how they are arranged in relation to each other. Line-drawings and photographs reveal the highly personalized character of Roman handwriting and how greatly it varies from one graffito to the next. Illustration allows us to show if an inscription was written in capital letters, cursive, or a mix of the two, and can hint at the certainty of the writer’s hand. Where the maps of the AGP help locate handwritten messages in their spatial context, the visual information that is provided can be employed to help understand the physical act of writing the messages that Romans left on their walls. Both the digital landscape and international collaboration make this possible. The AGP has been integrated into the Epigraphic Database Roma, henceforth EDR, from the beginning. Since ancient inscriptions are the cultural heritage of the Italian state and require approval to be reproduced, we upload our photographs from fieldwork and the corresponding images we create directly to the EDR.27 A decade ago, it would have been impossible to publish color photographs of every ancient graffito. As technology has evolved, digital epigraphic projects have moved forward and have created additional capabilities. Our hope is that these new ways of viewing the ancient graffiti 27

We do not host illustrations on our server, but rather contribute them to the EDR, which has a Memorandum of Understanding with the Ministero dei Beni Culturali. Low-resolution versions are stored on the EDR server and are given a watermark so that they remain the cultural heritage of the Italian state. The EDR hosts these images while AGP displays thumbnails that point back to the EDR server. If a user wishes to see a larger display, he clicks the thumbnail and is sent to the original image at EDR. The EDR can be accessed online at www.edr-edr.it.

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of the Vesuvian region will expand the number of studies addressing multiple aspects of ancient handwritten inscriptions. 4

Conclusions

As we conclude, we wish to stress a few additional benefits of the AGP as an entirely digital project and point toward future questions that the project has raised. Digital publication is, as we have already stressed, flexible and expandable. It allows for the ability to update bibliography, to link to other resources, and to combine and recombine data. Electronic publication also allows for copious metadata, the ability to add subsequent fields of information, and the capacity for data to be linked in ways that print indices cannot accommodate. For example, the AGP is linked to Pleiades, an online gazetteer of the ancient world, and is fully integrated with EDR and EAGLE. Using the hyperlinks in AGP to these other projects, scholars can thereby study graffiti within the wider epigraphic habit, with the ability to analyze handwritten inscriptions alongside other types of inscriptions (e.g. lapidary, wax tablets) throughout the Roman world. The EDR and the AGP feature bidirectional links between inscriptions to provide the ease of moving from one database to the other. Our two seasons of fieldwork in Herculaneum have informed the development of the AGP and have helped to shape solutions regarding what information about graffiti to present online. Through its fieldwork component, the AGP provides additional information regarding ancient graffiti, from series of measurements to time-stamped illustrations that detail the preservation status or degradation of a graffito. We have witnessed this first hand in our fieldwork, where the simple presence of glass protection or a short projecting roof make all the difference in terms of preservation. Graffiti, because they are inscribed on a fragile surface in an open-air environment, are subject to damage and deterioration and, unlike stone inscriptions, wax tablets, or papyri, they cannot be moved for protection. By fully documenting these writings now with non-invasive techniques, we aim to preserve as much as possible and to provide access to this material to a wide network of scholars and students. Finally, a digital platform makes scholarly information accessible to much broader audiences. The AGP has been designed as a resource to enable scholars to conduct new types of analyses and to consider large numbers of graffiti systematically and more efficiently. We aim to give scholars the ability to contextualize graffiti in new ways, and to make it easier for scholars, students, and others to access and explore this rare class of documents and drawings

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that offer fascinating insights into the personal lives, social relationships, and cultural history of the Romans. Bibliography Amodio, G. 1996. “Sui vici e le circoscrizioni elettorali di Pompei.” Athenaeum 84: 457–48. Benefiel, R.R. 2010a. “Dialogues of Graffiti in the House of Maius Castricius at Pompeii.” American Journal of Archaeology 114: 59–101. Benefiel, R.R. 2010b. “Rome in Pompeii. Wall Inscriptions and GIS.” In F. FeraudiGruénais, ed., Latin on Stone. Epigraphic Research and Electronic Archives, 45–75. Lanham, Maryland. Benefiel, R.R. 2011. “Dialogues of Graffiti in the House of the Four Styles at Pompeii (Casa Dei Quattro Stili, I. 8.17, 11).” In J.A. Baird and C. Taylor, eds., Ancient Graffiti in Context, 20–48. New York. Benefiel, R.R. 2012. “Magic Squares, Alphabet Jumbles, Riddles and more: The culture of word-games among the graffiti of Pompeii.” In J. Kwapisz, D. Petrain, and M. Szymanski, eds., The Muse at Play. Riddles and Wordplay in Greek and Latin Poetry, 65–80. Munich. Benefiel, R.R. 2016. “The Culture of Writing Graffiti within Domestic Spaces at Pompeii.” In R. Benefiel and P. Keegan, eds. Inscriptions in the Private Sphere in the Greco-Roman World, 80–110. Leiden. Benefiel, R.R. and H.M. Sypniewski. 2016. “Images and Text on the Walls of Herculaneum: Designing the Ancient Graffiti Project.” In A.E. Felle and A. Rocco, eds., Off the Beaten Track. Epigraphy at the Borders, 29–48. Oxford. Bernstein, F. 1988. “Pompeian Women and the Programmata.” In R. I. Curtius, ed. Studia Pompeiana & Classica: In honour of Wilhelmina F. Jashemski, 1–18. New York. Biundo, R. 1996. “I « rogatores » nei « programmata » elettorali pompeiani.” Cahiers du Centre Gustave Glotz 7: 179–88. Biundo, R. 2003. “La propaganda elettorale a Pompei: la funzione e il valore dei programmata nell’organizzazione della campagna.” Athenaeum 91: 53–116. Bodel, J. 2012. “Latin Epigraphy and the IT Revolution.” In J. Davies and J. Wilkes, eds., Epigraphy and the Historical Sciences, 275–96. Oxford. Campanile, E. 1996. “Le iscrizioni osche di Pompei, attribuite al periodo della Guerra Sociale.” In A. Storchi Marino, ed., L’incidenza dell’antico. Studi in memoria di Ettore Lepore, vol. 2, 361–75. Naples. Castrén, P. 1975. Ordo Populusque Pompeianus. Polity and Society in Roman Pompeii. Rome.

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Cayless, H., Rouechè, C., Elliott, T., and G. Bodard. 2009. “Epigraphy in 2017.” Digital Humanities Quarterly 3.1. Chiavia, C. 2002. Programmata. Manifesti elettorali nella colonia romana di Pompei. Torino. Corbier, M. 2016. “Writing in the Private Sphere: epilogue.” In R. Benefiel and P. Keegan, eds. Inscriptions in the Private Sphere in the Greco-Roman World, 265–78. Leiden. Courrier, C. and Dedieu, J.-P. 2012. “Écrire à Pompéi : propositions pour une modernisation du CIL IV.” Sylloge Epigraphica Barcinonensis 10: 371–88. Cugusi, P. 1985. “Pompeiana et Herculanensia. Analisi metrica ed esegesi di alcuni graffiti.” Quaderni Urbinati di Cultura Classica 48: 83–95. Cugusi, Paolo. 2008. “Poesia ‘ufficiale’ e poesia ‘epigrafica’ nei graffiti dei centri vesuviani In appendice alcuni nuovi carmi epigrafici pompeiani.” Studia Philologica Valentina 11: 43–102. Eschebach, L., and Müller-Trollius, J. 1993. Gebäudeverzeichnis und Stadtplan der antiken Stadt Pompeji. Köln. Franklin, J.L., Jr. 1980. Pompeii: The Electoral Programmata, Campaigns and Politics, A.D. 71–79. Rome. Franklin, J.L., Jr. 1986. “Games and a « lupanar »: Prosopography of a neighborhood in ancient Pompeii.” Classical Journal 81: 319–28. Franklin, J.L., Jr. 1987. “Pantomimists at Pompeii: Actius Anicetus and his Troupe.” American Journal of Philology 108: 95–107. Franklin, J.L., Jr. 1991. “Literacy and the parietal inscriptions of Pompeii.” In Literacy in the Roman World, 77–98. Ann Arbor, MI. Franklin, J.L., Jr. 2001. Pompeis Difficile Est. Studies in the Political Life of Imperial Pompeii. Ann Arbor, MI. Garraffoni, R.S. 2008. “Gladiators’ Daily Lives and Epigraphy: a Social Archaeological Approach to the Roman Munera during the Early Principate.” Nikephoros. Zeitschrift für Sport und Kultur im Altertum 21: 223–41. Gigante, M. 1979. Civiltà delle forme letterarie nell’antica Pompei. Naples. Giordano, C., and A. Casale. 1990. “Iscrizioni pompeiane inedite scoperte tra gli anni 1954–1978.” Atti della Accademia Pontaniana n.s. 39: 273–378. Guadagno, G. 1988. “I graffiti della Aedes Augustalium: documenti sull’accesso all’Augustalità.” Cronache Ercolanesi 18: 199–204. Guidobaldi, M.P., and Esposito, D. 2012. Ercolano. Colori di una città sepolta. Verona. Jashemski, W.F. 1975. “Corpus inscriptionum Latinarum consilio et auctoritate Academiae … Voluminis quarti supplementi pars tertia. Edidit Matthaeus Della Corte.” Classical Philology 70: 130–33. Kruschwitz, P. 2005. “Review of Wallace, R. An Introduction to Wall Inscriptions from Pompeii and Herculaneum,” Bryn Mawr Classical Review 4.58. http://bmcr .brynmawr.edu/2005/2005-04-58.html.

Wall Inscriptions in the Ancient City: The Ancient Graffiti Project 195 Kruschwitz, P. 2006. “Die Edition und Interpretation metrischer Kursivinschriften: Eine Methodenkritik am Beispiel von CLE 354.” In C. Fernández Martínez and J. Gómez Pallarès, eds., Temptanda viast. Nuevos estudios sobre la poesía epigráfica latina. SPUAB. 1–14. Bellaterra. Kruschwitz, P. 2008. “Patterns of text layout in Pompeian verse inscriptions.” Studia Philologica Valentina 11: 225–64. Kruschwitz, P. 2010. “Attitudes towards wall inscriptions in the Roman Empire.” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 174: 207–18. Kruschwitz, P. and Campbell, V. 2009. “What the Pompeians saw: representations of document types in Pompeian drawings and paintings (and their value for linguistic research).” Arctos 43: 55–84. Langner, M. 2001. Antike Graffitizeichnungen: Motive, Gestaltung und Bedeutung. Wiesbaden. Lebek, W.D. 1976. “Dichterisches über den « Hund » Diogenes (CIL Iv suppl. 3 fasc. 4 10529).” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 22: 293–96. Lebek, W.D. 1985. “Neues über epistolographie und grammatikunterricht. (Inscr. Pomp., “Haus des M. Fabius Rufus” Nr. 9/11: CIL III 1635, 4).” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 60: 53–61. Levin-Richardson, S. 2011. “Facilis hic futuit: Graffiti and Masculinity in Pompeii’s ‘Purpose-Built’ Brothel.” Helios 38: 59–78. Levin-Richardson, S. 2013. “fututa sum hic: Female Subjectivity and Agency in Pompeian Sexual Graffiti.” Classical Journal 108: 319–45. Milnor, K. 2009. “Literary Literacy in Roman Pompeii: the Case of Virgil’s Aeneid” in W.A. Johnson and H.N. Parker, eds. Ancient Literacies: the Culture of Reading in Greece and Rome, 288–319. Leiden. Milnor, K. 2014. Graffiti and the Literary Landscape in Roman Pompeii. Oxford. Monteix, N. 2010. Les Lieux de métier. Boutiques et ateliers d’Herculanum. Rome-Naples. Mouritsen, H. 1988. Elections, Magistrates and Municipal Élite: Studies in Pompeian Epigraphy. Rome. Mouritsen, H. 1999. “Electoral Campaigning in Pompeii: a Reconsideration.” Athenaeum 87: 515–25. Mouritsen, H. and Gradel, I. 1991. “Nero in Pompeian Politics. Edicta Munerum and Imperial Flaminates in Late Pompeii.” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 87: 145–55. Panciera, M. 2011. “Hamillus/Sullimah: Sex, Fiction, and the Significance of Ananyms in Pompeii.” Classical Philology 106: 53–59. Pugliese Caratelli, G., ed., 1990–2003. Pompei: Pitture e Mosaici. 11 vols. Rome. Ruiz Gutiérrez, A. 2009. “Los grafitos parietales de las ciudades romanas.” In J. M. Iglesias Gil, ed., Actas de los XVIII Cursos monográficos sobre el Patrimonio Histórico (Reinosa, julio 2007), 57–75. Santander.

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Sabbatini Tumolesi, P. 1980. Gladiatorum paria. Annunci di spettacoli gladiatorii a Pompei. Rome. Solin, H. 2010. “Review of R. Wallace “An Introduction to Wall Inscriptions from Pompeii and Herculaneum.” Gnomon 82: 527–31. Solin, H. 2008. “Vulgar Latin and Pompeii.” In R. Wright, ed. Latin vulgaire—latin tardif VIII, 60–68. Hildesheim. Solin, H. 2012. “On the use of Greek in Campania.” In M. Leiwo, H. Halla-aho, and M. Vierros, eds., Variation and Change in Greek and Latin, 97–114. Helsinki. Solin, H. 2013. “Zu pompejanischen Wandinschriften.” In W. Eck, B. Fehér, and P. Kovács, eds., Studia epigraphica in memoriam Géza Alfödy, 327–50. Bonn. Varone, A. 1994. Erotica Pompeiana. Iscrizioni d’amore sui muri di Pompei. (English trans. 2002, Erotica Pompeiana. Love inscriptions on the walls of Pompeii.) Rome. Varone, A. 1996. “Le iscrizioni.” In M.R. Borriello, ed., Pompei. Abitare sotto il Vesuvio, 196–201. Ferrara. Varone, A. 1999. “I graffiti.” In A. Barbet and P. Miniero, eds., La Villa San Marco a Stabia, 345–62. Naples. Varone, A. 2000a. “Spigolature epigrafiche ercolanesi.” Rivista di Studi Pompeiani 11: 276–281. Varone, A. 2000b. “Iscrizioni parietarie inedite da Pompei (reg. IX, ins. 12).” In G. Paci, ed., Epigrafai. Miscellanea epigrafica in onore di Lidio Gasperini, 1071–1093. Rome. Varone, A. 2005. “Nella Pompei a luci rosse. Castrensis e l’organizzazione della prostituzione e dei suoi spazi.” Rivista di Studi Pompeiani 16: 93–109. Varone, A., and Stefani, G. 2009. Titulorum Pictorum Pompeianorum qui in CIL Vol. IV collecti sunt Imagines. Rome. Varone, A. 2012. Titulorum Graphio Exaratorum qui in C.I.L. Volume IV collecti sunt. Imagines I–II. Rome. Wallace, R. 2005. An Introduction to Wall Inscriptions from Pompeii and Herculaneum. Wauconda, IL. Wallace-Hadrill, A. 2011. Herculaneum: Past and Future. London.

Chapter 12

Public in Private: The Distribution and Content of Graffiti in Pompeian domus and hospitia Jacqueline DiBiasie Sammons Ancient graffiti, perhaps more than any other genre of writing, were intimately tied to the places in which they were written.1 Unlike modern graffiti, which are typically spray-painted, ancient graffiti were scratched into the wall plaster. They were written on the surfaces of nearly every type of building in Pompeii: houses, temples, tombs, and public buildings. The purpose of ancient graffiti writing also differs from its modern counterpart. Many Pompeian graffiti were greetings from one person to another. In a time without other easy means of communication, the wall plaster served as a place to dialogue with someone not in the immediate vicinity and have that communication known to others. The greeter, it can be assumed, wrote the message in a place where its addressee, or perhaps an associate of the addressee, would see it. Each graffito, then, must be studied in light of its context of production in order to understand its purpose. Graffiti are inextricably linked to their location, but studying graffiti in light of their physical context is a relatively recent methodology.2 Much new work is interested in exploring the complicated relationship between the text of the graffiti and the places where they were written. This paper, part of a larger study on the distribution of graffiti, examines the inscriptions of a few select buildings in the ancient city of Pompeii.3 It seeks to understand where the graffiti were written in these buildings and why the authors chose to write in these particular locations. Why did the writers choose certain areas often, 1 I wish to thank the NACGLE conference organizers, the Soprintendenza speciale per i Beni Archeologici di Pompei, Ercolano e Stabia, Professors Rebecca Benefiel, Rabun Taylor, and Adam Rabinowitz, and Dr. Eric Poehler and the Pompeii Bibliography and Mapping Project. All translations are my own. 2 See especially Benefiel 2010 and 2011. Benefiel has explored how graffiti from two houses, Casa di Marcus Castricius (VII.16.17) and Casa dei Quattro Stili (I.8.17), communicate with each other and the spaces in which they were written. See also Keegan 2011 and Kruschwitz, Campbell, and Nicholls 2012. 3 For the larger study, see DiBiasie 2015.

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particularly the atrium and the peristyle, while nearly always eschewing others? What characteristics made certain rooms, or even locations within rooms, attractive for would-be graffiti writers? This paper approaches these questions through two complementary methodologies. First, visibility graph analysis (VGA) analyzes what areas are visible from other areas within the same building.4 Visibility graph analysis uses isovists (viewsheds) to analyze the intervisibility of spaces within a building or network.5 This allows us to understand how the visibility of the particular spaces in which graffiti were written relates to the distribution of graffiti within the building. Through VGA, one can compare houses of different size, plan, or decoration, which is important since many Pompeian buildings vary widely in size and arrangement. Furthermore, scholars have often been criticized for using text-based nomenclature to describe specific spaces in Pompeii.6 Visibility graph analysis, based purely on configuration rather than perceived function, reduces such bias. Second, an analysis of the content of the graffiti themselves elucidates the relationship between graffiti and between the placement of the graffito and the content of its message. This type of examination allows us to better understand and, in some cases, qualify the results of archaeological inquiry. This paper will discuss the graffiti of three buildings: the House of the Epigrams (V.1.18), the Inn of Eumachia (VII.12.35), and the House of the Triclinium (V.2.4). The first building, often called the House of the Epigrams (Casa degli Epigrammi Greci), is located in Regio V of Pompeii.7 It was constructed in the third to second century BCE in a standard atrium-peristyle house plan and derives its name from the Greek epigrams on several wall paintings. The distribution of graffiti is typical of domestic space: a concentration in the atrium and peristyle, with a few graffiti in less common locations like reception spaces (triclinium or exedra) and cubicula.8 Some of the rooms had thresholds with bolt holes that indicate the spaces could be locked if necessary.9

4 5 6 7

For more on visibility graph analysis see Stöger 2011: 64–65 and Turner 2004. Turner et al. 2001: 103. See Allison 1993 and Allison 1997. Karin Lundqvist of the Swedish Pompeii Project has thoroughly documented these inscriptions. Her work can be found here: http://www.pompejiprojektet.se/inscriptions.php. For more on this building see de Vos 1991: 539–573. 8 For more on the distribution of graffiti in houses see Benefiel 2010, Benefiel 2011, DiBiasie 2015 and Lohmann 2018. 9 These thresholds were identified through observation on site in 2014.

Public in Private Graffiti in Pompeian domus and hospitia

Figure 12.1

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V.1.18: Map of Graffiti Note: Dr. Eric Poehler and the Pompeii Bibliography and Mapping Project graciously provided me with the shapefiles used in this article.

The map above indicates the graffiti in the building. Each graffito is represented with a red circle.10 There are 69 graffiti recorded in this building. The graffiti are primarily textual, although there is one drawing as well. The most common type is numerals, but this is skewed due to a large set of 41 numerical graffiti found in the atrium.11 Graffiti were found in seven of the 24 rooms, most prominently on 10 11

Very few of the graffiti are currently extant, so while I am confident I have located the wall on which the graffito used to be located, its exact location on the wall is unknown. These numerical graffiti, found very close to one another on the wall and grouped in two CIL entries (CIL IV.4039 and 4040), are represented by only one red circle on Figure 12.2, but as individual circles on Figure 12.1.

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Figure 12.2

V.1.18: Visual Control. White indicates high control; black indicates low control. Each graffito is represented by a red circle.

the south wall of the atrium and on columns of the peristyle. The prevalence of writing on these columns reflects the ambulatory nature of the peristyle. Many peristyles, like this one, enclosed gardens that drew the eye and body inwards. This centripetal tendency highlights the columns rather than the outer walls. Furthermore, the columns are provided more sunlight throughout the day than the shaded perimeter walls. In order to understand the placement of the graffiti in the buildings, I utilized visibility graph analysis to explore the relationship between the configuration of the building and the visibility of the graffiti. The figure above, created with a computer program called Depthmap,12 shows a visibility measurement called visual control. Rooms of high visual control indicate areas of surveillance; they could be easily viewed by other areas within the building. The areas in white are areas of high visual control, while black indicates no control. As is evident, for the most part, the graffiti are located in areas of high visual control. However, several graffiti, especially those in the so-called triclinium (indicated by the red arrow in Figure 12.2) are 12

Depthmap can be downloaded here: http://www.spacesyntax.net/software/.

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located in areas of low visual control. The reason for this departure will be discussed below. In summary, generally the graffiti in this house are in spaces of high visual control, meaning the areas of greatest surveillance. Visitors and inhabitants wrote them in areas where they would be seen doing so. This is important. It has been suggested that ancient graffiti, like their modern counterpart, were illicit or disapproved of in the Roman house.13 If this were the case, we would expect to see a concentration of graffiti in areas of low visual control i.e. spaces where one was not likely to be seen writing. Modern graffiti are often located in well-connected spaces (bridges, subway cars, etc.), but are not produced under surveillance. Ancient graffiti, by contrast, show a predilection towards areas of control that are easily surveyed from within the house. The content of the graffiti, too, often the presumed names of the writers and addressors, indicates that the writers felt no uneasiness in revealing their identity. It is clear that visibility is an important factor in understanding the location of graffiti, yet this visibility was affected by barriers like curtains and doors. Of course, these artifacts leave little in the material record by which to understand their effect.14 Without evidence as such, it may be impossible to perfectly model movement within the Roman house. However, differentiated analysis with known doors at least allows us to imagine what impact doors may have had on movement patterns around and visibility of graffiti within domestic space. By adding doorways within the visibility graph analysis, it is possible to model different spatial conditions (closed and open doorways) that may have been in place throughout the day. In this building, doors were added to the rooms indicated by the red circles in Figure 12.3; these doors were identified through observation of extant thresholds. The doors closed off the two rooms traditionally called cubicula and effectively closed off the front of the house (the atrium, all rooms connected to it, and the tablinum) from the back of the house (the peristyle and service areas). Several of the rooms around the atrium, for example, appear black in the visual control map above (Figure 12.4) because those known doorways were “shut” in the analysis. Adding these doors changes the visibility of graffiti significantly and disconnects a significant number of graffiti from the atrium and 13

14

Just one example on the graffiti of Crescens, Roller 2006: 75 “His graffiti suggest that his bout of vandalism was fueled by wine, presumably drunk during a convivium in this very dining room … Perhaps this vandal was inspired by the frescoed words on the adjacent panel.” The emphasis is mine. For more on barriers, see Lauritsen 2013.

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Figure 12.3

V.1.18: Closed doors. The doorways “shut” during the analysis are indicated by the red circles.

the rooms connected to it.15 It is clear that spatial conditions such as open and closed doorways would have had a noticeable effect on whether one could reach, much less read, a graffito. One room in particular, indicated on the map below with the red arrow, contains many graffiti, but is of low visual control (in contrast to many of the other spaces in the building). This room is usually defined as a triclinium due to its large size, but has also been labeled a slaves’ cubiculum due to the graffiti found in and near it.16 In fact, the graffiti in this space are unlike typical graffiti in a large reception space such as this. They contain a string of dates and

15 16

This correlation may also be observed statistically as well, see DiBiasie 2015: 111–113. de Vos 1991: 540.

Public in Private Graffiti in Pompeian domus and hospitia

Figure 12.4

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V.1.18: Visual Control

names and may indicate the presence of workers in the house keeping track of restoration progress.17 CIL IV.4044: VII k(alendas) / Prim(us) / VI · k(alendas) / Felix / V · k(alendas) / Germanus 7 days before the Kalends, Primus, 6 days before the Kalends, Felix, 5 days before the Kalends, Germanus CIL IV.4045: XII k(alendas) Ian(uarias) / Primus Felix / XI ε / G(ermanus) / X k(alendas) Felix / IX k(alendas) / Felix / IIX k(alendas) / G(ermanus) / VII k(alendas) II […] / G(ermanus) December 21st, Primus, Felix, December 22nd ? Germanus, December 23rd Felix, December 24th Felix, December 25th Germanus, December 26th Germanus 17

This was first suggested by Mau 1877: 66.

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Figure 12.5

CIL IV.4046:

V.1.18: Agent Analysis

III 3

XIII 13

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII 16

Similarly, a graffito in a small room (often labeled a cubiculum; indicated by the blue arrow in Figure 12.4) off the peristyle continues the countdown of CIL IV.4045: CIL IV.4052: VI k(alendas) Fe(lix) / VII S I C I I I I 6 days before the Kalends Felix, 7 ? This room has been identified as the sleeping quarters for slaves because of the names in CIL IV.4044–4045 and the presence of CIL IV.4049, which mentions a cubiculum, on the exterior wall of the adjoining room.18 The name, Felix, certainly could be servile, though it applies to a decurion at Pompeii as well. The name Primus never appears among the decurional class.19 Beyond the presence of possible slave names, the evidence for this suggestion is lacking. Instead, I believe these are the names of workers who have inscribed these graffiti to 18 19

de Vos 1991: 540; Mau 1877: 66. Castrén 1975: 265.

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keep track of their progress or perhaps record completed work. The reason for their preponderance and their location in this unusual space for such a quantity of writing is the transient nature of their message. These graffiti were meant to be covered over when new plaster was applied to the walls after renovation.20 Further, it appears that CIL IV.4052, written in a cubiculum adjoining the peristyle (room 16; see the blue arrow in Figure 12.4), continued the countdown from CIL IV.4045 across the peristyle in room 12 (indicated by the red arrow). This is further evidence that one should not label the larger room as a bedroom for slaves purely on the content of particular names in the graffiti, since this tabulation appears to continue through different areas. The image above (Figure 12.5) is of another measurement conducted within Depthmap called agent analysis. In this process, automatons navigate the environment and their paths are expressed in raster format as “walking paths” of the 50 agents. In studies of contemporary architecture, this method has been shown to correlate well with actual pedestrian movement.21 These walking paths can be analyzed to understand the possible circulation paths throughout the building. Then these agent paths can be compared to the number of graffiti found in the space to see if the distribution of graffiti correlates with the location of possible pedestrian movement. Agent analysis in this building (those areas in light gray) has a strong positive correlation with the presence of graffiti, indicating that areas of potentially high pedestrian traffic are also those most often chosen as locations for graffiti writing. This building conforms to the typical distribution of graffiti in houses. In domestic space, graffiti tend to be located in the most visible, accessible, and well-trafficked locations. Graffiti that depart from these typical locations often reveal anomalies that may be explained through other factors. The group of graffiti in the so-called triclinium, unusual in their quantity and content, may be graffiti keeping track of restoration work, hence their location in this less accessible and less visible location. This typical pattern of distribution differed greatly in other buildings. Here, there was not a correlation between the visibility measurements and the graffiti. One example of an atypical distribution is building VII.12.35, often termed the Inn of Eumachia, which is located near to the main brothel of the city.22

20 21 22

In fact, restoration had already begun. One wall of this large room was still coarsely plastered, perhaps in the process of being redecorated, immediately prior to the eruption (de Vos 1991: 540). Turner 2004: 2. Della Corte 1965: 201.

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Figure 12.6

VII.12.35 Visual Control

This building had 24 graffiti, though it is unfortunately in a dilapidated state today. Many of the graffiti in this building do not match up to the areas of high visual control (see Figure 12.6). I suggest that this change in distribution is caused by a change in the configuration of space and the use of the rooms in the building, likely stemming from the function of the building as an inn. The use of the rooms differed in a commercial establishment from a domestic one. Rather than activity in the atrium and the now-absent peristyle, it instead centered in the cubicula surrounding the atrium as well as the atrium itself. In domestic spaces, graffiti appear in the most visible and well-trafficked areas, that is to say the public areas. In an inn, the cubicula, the sleeping areas,23 would be very visible and well-travelled spaces. From this examination of the visibility graph analysis, I turn to a close reading of the content of the graffiti in order to see how the content of the messages can aid in understanding the spaces in which they were written. Indeed, looking at the content of the graffiti in this building reveals the possible presence of travelers, appropriate for such a space. These graffiti, with the exception of

23

Note, though, that cubicula were used for many functions in addition to sleeping; see Riggsby 1997.

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CIL IV.2157, which was found in the atrium, were all located in the cubicula surrounding the atrium. CIL IV.2145:24 C(aius) · Valerius · Venustus · m(iles)· c(o)h(ortis) · I pr(aetoriae) (centuria) > · Rufi · futut⸌ul⸍or · maximum Gaius Valerius Venustus soldier of the first praetorian cohort, century of Rufus, the greatest little fucker CIL IV.2157: C(aius) · Valirius25 · maximus milis dom^us Gaius Valerius; best soldier of the house CIL IV.2159: Lucceius Albanus Abellinas cum [-]ravio Aẹṭio26 Lucceius Albanus from Avellino (was here) with [ ]ravius Aetius Other graffiti reveal the presence of actors or at least fans of the actors: CIL IV.2155:27 C · Cominius Pyrrichus · et L · Novius · Priscus et · L · Campius Primigenius fanatici tres a pulvinar⟨e⟩28 Synethaei hic fuerunt cum Martiale sodale Actiani Anicetiani sinceri Salvio sodali felic̣iter

24 25 26 27 28

It is likely CIL IV.2145 and 2157 refer to the same individual. Varone 1994: 65 believes it is possible that the “ul” was added as a diminutive (the little fucker) by another hand for derogatory intent. Maximum is likely a mistake for the nominative case (maximus). This graffito has several mistakes: Valirius instead of Valerius and milis instead of miles. Possibly Aetio for Actio (cf. CIL IV.2150). For more on this graffito see Franklin 1987: 104. Pulvinar in any form is only found in this graffito in Pompeii. To what it refers is unclear. Perhaps it could refer to a special seating area in the theater like the pulvinar in the Circus Maximus. Thank you to Rabun Taylor for this suggestion.

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Gaius Cominius Pyrrichus and Lucius Novius Priscus and Lucius Campius Primigenius, three fans from the couch of Synethaeus, were here with their companion Martialis; the genuine Actian-Anicetan troupe sends greetings to their companion Salvius CIL IV.2154: P̣ yrrichus · Salvio sodali sal(utem) Pyrrichus says hello to his companion Salvius CIL IV.2150 add.215:29 Castre⟨n⟩sis: v^aḷẹ Castre⟨n⟩sis v^a(le) calos · Ac̣tio [C]astr[ensis] Castre⟨n⟩sis v^a(le) Anicet[e] · v^a(le) Castrensis, goodbye, Castrensis, goodbye; hurrah for Actius, Castrensis, Castrensis, goodbye, Anicetus, goodbye James Franklin has written on the presence of one pantomime, Actius Anicetus, within the epigraphical record of Pompeii.30 The placement of calos Castrensis in several other graffiti (CIL IV.2179) next to graffiti about another pantomime (CIL IV.2180: calos Paris) suggests that this Castrensis was probably an actor if not member of Anicetus’ troupe,31 which is also attested at Herculaneum.32 It appears that three fans of Synethaeus (otherwise unknown)—Gaius Cominius Pyrrichus, Lucius Novius Priscus and Lucius Campius Primigenius—were at the inn with Martialis. Pyrrichus greets Salvius in another graffito from the same house (CIL IV.2154: Pyrrichus · Salvio Sodali Sal). Since the Actiani-Anicetiani troupe greet Salvius, it follows that Pyrrichus was one of this group. Further, the following graffito located in a cubiculum of the same building could certainly have been the beginning of pantomimus, though without more evidence this remains only a suggestion: CIL IV.2162: Panta m 29 30 31 32

The text of this graffito as presented here is based not on the transcription (CIL IV.2150 add.215), but on the apograph (Tav. XXXV, 11). For more on this graffito, see Franklin 1987: 97. See Franklin 1987. On the actor Paris, see Sogliano 1908. Franklin 1987: 99–100. Ibid., 106; CIL IV.10535, 10643a, and 10643c.

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Caca[t?] [written in another hand] (sketch of a phallus) The pantomime shits The presence of calos in CIL IV.2150 also warrants further reflection. Recently, Sarah Levin-Richardson has tied the appellation of calos to the presence of actors.33 She asserts that calos was often used to describe individuals who would have been infames, including actors, prostitutes, or both. This suggestion clarifies the ways even simple greetings could serve to classify and distinguish individuals within the epigraphic record. Such a conglomeration of graffiti from travelers and actors is unusual. This evidence corroborates the results of visibility graph analysis, which differed significantly from the results of domestic space. Other clues in the graffiti include the presence of tria nomina or praenomen/ nomen rather than single names, as is more common: CIL IV 2147: Fuit M · Clodius34 · hic Primio Marcus Clodius Primio was here. CIL IV 2152:35 Coloniae · Clau(diae) […] Nerone⟨n⟩si · Putiolan⟨a⟩e […] feliciter scripsit · C(aius) · Iulius · Speratus Sperate · v^a(le)36 Good fortune to the Colonia Claudia Neronensis Puteoli! Gaius Iulius Speratus wrote this. Farewell, Speratus. CIL IV 2146: Vibius Restitutus hic 33 34 35 36

Levin-Richardson 2015. There are many Clodii in the epigraphic record but this graffito is the only example of Marcus Clodius Primio (Castrén 1975: 155). For more on this graffito see Benefiel 2005:154–155, 242–243. The CIL does not suggest that the last line was written by another hand, though this would make the most logical sense.

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solus · dormivit et Urbanam suam desiderabat Vibius Restitutus slept here alone and missed his Urbana. The tria nomina indicates a degree of unfamiliarity within the community of writers. This observation aligns well with the hypothesized function of the building as an inn. Unlike in domestic space where the visitors and inhabitants of the house may know the exact personage referred to by “Marcus was here,” the visitors of the inn were mostly unknown to one another. The tria nomina served to identify and distinguish oneself among past and future visitors to the inn. Further, at least one graffito, CIL IV.2146 indicates that the writer slept in the building and was not a daytime visitor as is suspected of the writers of many of the other graffiti. Further, he probably wrote it in the very cubiculum where he slept. The large proportion of graffiti in the cubicula is atypical and further indicates that the building was used differently than domestic space. Many of the graffiti in these spaces are the “Rufus was here” type of graffito often seen in the peristyle. There are many greetings including four valedictions and two salutations, four from cubicula and two from the atrium. In general, when in domestic space, the Pompeians chose to write in visible and easily accessed areas. Most graffiti in the cubicula are in inaccessible and not highly visible areas. However, although not immediately visible from the atrium, they were the most visible to the patrons of the establishment who used these spaces as guestrooms. This difference in function (from house to inn) and configuration of rooms affects the use of space within the building. The graffiti in this inn are frequently viewed though they are not in the most “visible” locations. In conclusion, graffiti of travelers, actors and fans, and soldiers indicate the presence of a diverse group of people in this space. The quantity of graffiti in the cubicula indicates that the building was not used like many of the domestic buildings. The number of salutations and “I was here” graffiti in the cubicula indicate these were well-travelled areas. The writers of these graffiti expected that the next visitors to the cubicula would see their salutations. The previous example, VII.12.35, has most often been identified as an inn from the archaeological record. In this case, visibility graph analysis and the content of the graffiti help to confirm such an assertion. The next example, however, has been alternatively identified as an inn and as a house.37 Visibility 37

Inn: De Felice 2001: 230, Della Corte 1921; Domestic space: de Vos 1991.

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graph analysis and a careful study of the graffiti indicate that the building was probably not an inn as the previous example. I turn now to V.2.4, also called the House of the Triclinium, due to the magnificent paintings in the triclinium located in the back of the house.38 Many of the graffiti in this house mention one individual named Crescens, probably a fuller named Lucius Quintilius Crescens, since two graffiti giving this name were found in the peristyle.39 Below is a plan of the building; graffiti mentioning Crescens are in purple.

Figure 12.7

38 39

V.2.4: Map of graffiti

See Clarke 2003:243 and Sampaolo 1991. CIL IV.4104 and 4107.

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Figure 12.8

V.2.4: Visual Control

Unlike building VII.12.35, in which the visual measures were weaker than those of the other houses, the measurements of building V.2.4 were stronger and align more closely to domestic space than other supposed inns. In Figure 12.8, it is clear that the graffiti, by in large, appear in the areas of greatest visibility. Indeed, no graffiti appear in cubicula in this building, unlike in building VII.12.35, an inn (compare Figures 12.8 and 12.9). Furthermore, the distribution of graffiti aligns this building to other domestic spaces, rather than spaces of hospitality. The majority of graffiti are found in the peristyle, specifically on peristyle columns and the atrium while a few graffiti appear in reception areas surrounding these two rooms. A few insights about the use of space can also be gained by a close examination of the contents of this group of graffiti. Crescens is a fuller as is stated almost as an epithet in seven of the graffiti.40 He sends greetings to fullers in

40

CIL IV.4100, 4102, 4103, 4104, 4106, 4107, and 4109.

Public in Private Graffiti in Pompeian domus and hospitia

Figure 12.9

213

VII.12.35: Visual Control

two other graffiti,41 and mentions the owl, a symbol of the fullers by way of their patroness Minerva.42 4118:

Ulula est43 Cresce⟨n⟩s · fullonibus · et · ululae · suae · sal(utem) (drawing of a owl) This is the owl/ Crescens says hello to the fullers and their owl.

4112: Cresce⟨n⟩s · fullonibus ul{l}ulaq⟨u⟩e canont (drawing of an owl) Crescens and an owl sing to the fullers.44 41 42 43 44

CIL IV.4112 and 4120. Miko Flohr has discussed the importance of the owl as a corporate symbol for the fullers and the construction of an occupational image (2013: 338). Ulula est is in another hand. This graffito perhaps shows a familiarity with another graffito found outside the Fullery of Ululitremulus (IX.13.4) that is a pun on the opening lines of Vergil’s Aeneid: Fullones ululamque cano, non arma virumque (I sing of fullers and an owl, not arms and a man).

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Figure 12.10

V.2.4: Graffiti in the peristyle

These graffiti have been used to interpret the function of this building, though I believe erroneously. Della Corte believed this building was a caupona as he hypothesized that the graffiti indicated a conversation between the caupo and neighbors, which included the fullers.45 He imagined that Crescens, their leader, inebriated from a banquet (perhaps similar to the famous banquet painting found in this house), went on a spree of salutations throughout the portico. However, the graffiti should not be used in isolation to interpret the building. CIL IV.4100, a crucial piece of Della Corte’s evidence, is problematic. Della Corte (1921): Fullo Cresce⟨n⟩s coponi sal(utem)

45

The play with cano in both graffiti suggests a familiarity with the trope. Perhaps it was a saying popular among the fullers of Pompeii. Della Corte 1921: 87.

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Sogliano (1884): Fullo Cresce⟨n⟩s […] nis [salute(m)] Sogliano’s published reading of this graffito in 1884 is quite different from Della Corte’s publication in 1921, which throws the latter’s argument into question.46 In fact, his reading does not have the word copo at all. Sogliano suggested that Crescens the fuller was the owner of the house or at the very least there was a relationship between the owner of the house and a group of fullers, who perhaps worked at nearby fullery in Regio VI.47 Sogliano recorded that the plaster was eroded in 1884 and it has completely disintegrated now. We must analyze all the evidence to understand the use of space rather than rely on the content of a single graffito. Visibility graph analysis of this house as well as the distribution of graffiti suggests that this building was not an inn. The content of these graffiti is typical of those found in other houses. Single male names, the most common type of graffito in domestic spaces, proliferate in this building.48 It is true that though this building is likely not an inn, the graffiti in this space are unusual in other respects. The preponderance of graffiti mentioning the fullers, several greetings to citizens of Pompeii and other cities,49 and the relative paucity of graffiti in the atrium are unusual in comparison to other houses. Perhaps a third explanation for the use of this building still remains.50 In conclusion, when studied using multiple methodologies, graffiti can be used to consider the function of a building, domus or hospitium, and to identify the typical from the anomalous. This is especially important when thinking about inns and other places of hospitality, which have been notoriously difficult to decipher in the archaeological record. Ancient graffiti were meant to be seen. They were written in well trafficked, visible, and accessible locations. In houses, this meant, for the most part, a plethora of graffiti writing in the atrium and peristyle. In inns, writing centered in the cubicula and atrium. The content of the messages, a large portion of which are names and greetings, indicates the very public nature of this type of writing. Ancient graffiti writing was written under surveillance and 46 47 48 49 50

Sogliano 1884: 51. Sogliano 1884: 111. CIL IV.4095, 4105, 4108, 4110, 4111, 4113, 4115, 4116, 4117, 4119. CIL IV.4102, 4103, 4106, 4109. I intend to explore the graffiti of this building further in a forthcoming article.

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the content of the messages indicates the purpose for doing so. The walls of Pompeii, especially in the absence of other writing equipment, were a place to play with the language, express one’s existence, keep track of information, and send messages to others. Bibliography Allison, P. 1993. “How do we identify the use of space in Roman housing.” In Functional and Spatial Analysis of Wall Painting, by E. Moorman (ed.), 1–9. Leiden. Allison, P. 1997. “Artefact Distribution and Spatial Function in Pompeian Houses.” In B. Rawson and P. Weaver, eds., The Roman Family in Italy: Status, Sentiment, Space, 321–354. Oxford. Allison, P. 2004. Pompeian Households: An Analysis of Material Culture. Los Angeles. Anderson, M. 2005. “Houses, GIS and the micro-topology of Pompeian domestic space.” In J. Bruhn, B. Croxford, and D. Grigoropoulos, eds., TRAC 2004: Proceedings of the Fourteenth Annual Theoretical Roman Archaeology Conference, 144–156. Durham. Allison, P. 2010. “Mapping the Domestic Landscape: GIS, Visibility, and the Pompeian House.” In F. Niccolucci and S. Hermon eds., Beyond the artefact—Digital Interpretation of the Past—Proceedings of CAA2004, 183–189. Budapest. Baird, J. and Taylor, C. 2011. “Ancient Graffiti in Context: Introduction.” In J. Taylor and C. Baird, eds., Ancient Graffiti in Context, 1–20. New York. Baldwin, E., Moulden, H., and Laurence, R. 2013. “Slaves and Children in a Roman Villa: Writing and Space in the Villa San Marco at Stabiae.” In G. Sears, K. Keegan, and R. Laurence, eds., Written Space in the Latin West, 200 BC to AD 300, 153–66. London. Benefiel, R. 2005. Litora mundi hospita: Mobility and Social Interaction in Roman Campania. Ph.D. dissertation, Harvard University. Benefiel, R. 2010. “Dialogues of ancient graffiti in the House of Maius Castricius in Pompeii.” The American Journal of Archaeology 114.1: 59–101. Benefiel, R. 2011. “Dialogues of Graffiti in the House of the Four Styles at Pompeii.” In J. Taylor and C. Baird, eds., Ancient Graffiti in Context, 20–48. New York. Castrén, P. 1975. Ordo Populusque Pompeianus: polity and society in Roman Pompeii. Rome. Clarke, J. 2003. Art in the Lives of Ordinary Romans: Visual Representation and Non-Elite Viewers in Italy, 100 B.C.–A.D. 315. Berkeley. Della Corte, M. 1913. Notizie degli Scavi di Antichità 5. Roma. Della Corte, M. 1921. “Fullones.” In Solemne praeconium Januario Asprenati Galante; ab amicis quinquagesimo recurrente anno ah inito ejus sacerdotio tributum, 85–94. Naples. Della Corte, M. 1965. Case ed Abitanti di Pompei. Napoli.

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de Vos, M. 1991. “V.1.18 Casa degli Epigrammi,” In G. Caratelli, ed., Pompeii: Pitture e Mosaici. Vol. 3, 539–573. Rome. De Felice, J. 2001. Roman Hospitality: The Professional Women of Pompeii. Warren Center. DiBiasie, J. 2015. “The Writings On The Wall : The Spatial And Literary Context Of Domestic Graffiti From Pompeii”. Ph.D. dissertation, The University of Texas at Austin. Flohr, M. 2013. The World of the Fullo. Oxford. Franklin, J. 1987. “Pantomimists at Pompeii: Actius Anicetus and His Troupe.” The American Journal of Philology 108.1: 95–107. Franklin, J. 2001. Pompeis Difficile Est: Studies in the Political Life of Imperial Pompeii. Ann Arbor. Grahame, M. 1997. “Public and Private in the Roman house: The Spatial Order of the Casa del Fauno.” In R. Laurence and A. Wallace-Hadrill, eds., Domestic space in the Roman World: Pompeii and Beyond, Journal of Roman Archaeology Supplement 22, 137–164. Portsmouth. Hillier, B. 2014. “Spatial analysis and cultural information: the need for theory as well as method in space syntax analysis.” In S. Polla, U. Lieberwirth, and E. Paliou, eds., Spatial Analysis and Social Space: Interdisciplinary Approaches to the Interpretation of Prehistoric and Historic Built Environments, 19–48. Berlin. Hillier, B., and J. Hanson. 1984. The social logic of space. Cambridge. Keegan, P. 2011. “Blogging Rome: Graffiti as a Speech Act and Cultural Discourse.” In J. Taylor and C. Baird, eds., Ancient Graffiti in Context, 165–190. New York. Kruschwitz, P. 2010. “Attitudes towards Wall Inscriptions in the Roman Empire.” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 174: 207–218. Kruschwitz, P. 2014. “Reading and Writing in Pompeii: An Outline of the Local Discourse.” In Studj Romanzi 10: 245–279. Kruschwitz, P., Campbell, V., and Nicholls, M. 2012. “Menedemerumenus: tracing the routes of Pompeian graffiti writers.” Tyche 27: 93–111. Laurence, R. 1997. “Space and Text.” In R. Laurence and A. Wallace-Hadrill, eds., Domestic Space in the Roman World: Pompeii and Beyond, Journal of Roman Archaeology Supplement 22, 7–15. Portsmouth. Laurence, R. 2007. Roman Pompeii: Space and Society. New York. Lauritsen, M. 2013. “The Form and Function of Boundaries in the Campanian House.” In A. Anguissola, ed., Privata Luxuria. Towards and Archaeology of Intimacy: Pompeii and Beyond, 95–110. Munich. Levin-Richardson, S. 2011. “Facilis Hic Futuit: Graffiti and Masculinity in Pompeii’s ‘Purpose-Built’ Brothel.” Helios 38: 59–78. Levin-Richardson, S. 2015. “Calos graffiti and infames at Pompeii.” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 195: 274–282.

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Lohmann, P., 2018. Graffiti als Interaktionsform. Geritzte Inschriften in den Wohnhäusern Pompejis, Materiale Textkulturen Berlin. Mau, A. 1877. Bullettino dell’lnstituto di corrispondenza archeologica. Rome. Mau, A. 1899. Pompeii: Its Life and Art. Translated by F. Kelsey. London. Mau, A. 1909. Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum IV: Supplementi Pars II: Inscriptiones parietariae et vasorum factilium. Rome. Moeller, W. 1969. “The Male Weavers at Pompeii.” Technology and Culture 10.4: 561–566. Moeller, W. 1976. The Wool Trade of Ancient Pompeii. Leiden. Poehler, E., Flohr, M., and Cole, K. 2011. Pompeii: Art, Industry and Infrastructure. Oxford. Riggsby, A. 1997. “‘Public’ and ‘Private’ in Roman Culture: The Case of the Cubiculum.” Journal of Roman Archaeology 10: 36–56. Roller, M. 2006. Dining Posture in Ancient Rome: Bodies, Values and Status. Princeton. Sampaolo, V. 1991. “V.2.4 Casa del Triclinio,” In G. Caratelli, ed., Pompei: Pitture e Mosaici. Vol. 3, 797–823. Rome. Sogliano, A. 1884. Notizie Degli Scavi. Rome. Sogliano, A. 1908. “L’attore Paride in Pompei.” Atti dell’Accademia Pontaniana 38: 1–6. Stöger, J. 2011. Rethinking Ostia: a spatial enquiry into the urban society of Rome’s imperial port-town. Leiden. Turner, A. 2004. “Depthmap 4 A Researcher’s Handbook” http://discovery.ucl .ac.uk/2651/1/2651.pdf Turner, A., Doxa, M., O’Sullivan, D., and Penn, A., 2001. “From Isovists to Visibility Graphs: Methodology for the Analysis of Architectural Space.” Environment and Planning B: Planning and Design 2001, 28: 103–121. Varone, A. 1994. Erotica Pompeiana: Iscrizioni d’amore sui muri di Pompei. Rome. Varone, A. 1999. “I Graffiti.” In A. Barbet and P. Minero, eds., La Villa San Marco a Stabia, 345–362. Rome. Viitanen, E., Nissinen, L., and Korhonen, K. 2013. “Street Activity, Dwellings and Wall Inscriptions in Ancient Pompeii: A Holistic Study of Neighborhood Relations.” In A. Bokern, M. Bolder-Boos, S. Krmnicek, D. Maschek, S. Page, eds., TRAC 2012: Proceedings of the Twenty Second Theoretical Roman Archaeology Conference, 61–80. Oxford. Wallace-Hadrill, A. 1997. “Rethinking the Roman atrium house.” In R. Laurence and A. Wallace Hadrill, eds., Domestic Space in the Roman World: Pompeii and Beyond, Journal of Roman Archaeology Supplement 22. Portsmouth. Wallace-Hadrill, A. 1988. “The Social Structure of the Roman House.” Papers of the British School at Rome 56: 43–97. Wallace-Hadrill, A. 2007. “The Development of the Campanian House.” In P. Foss and J. Dobbins The World of Pompeii, 279–291. Oxford.

Chapter 13

Shedding Light on ludi in Pompeii Joe Sheppard 1

Introduction

Visitors to the Pompeian amphitheater today may still discern a series of inscriptions chiselled into the coping of the eastern parapet wall that separates the arena floor from the audience.1 Each text records the construction of the adjacent cuneus, or sector of seating, and diverges little from a formula consisting of the following possible elements: the name of the individual or group who oversaw the work; their rank (i.e. as duovir, or annually elected co-chair of the town council of decuriones); a reference to the seating itself and the authority of the city council; and an abbreviated phrase made from variations on the letters PRO LVD LVM.2 They have generally been dated to the Augustan era.3 A clear example of this genre may be read as follows: 1 CIL X.853–6, 857a–d (cf. ILS 5653a–e), with the description of Fiorelli 1875: 73. There is some confusion about the precise number of inscriptions because the text of 853 is actually repeated verbatim at either end of the arena (but usually only published once to save space); 856 is an abridged version of 855, turned to face the seats on the back of the same support (thus referring to the same monument); and 857 lists four magistrates in a single sentence (hence a-d). For a recent reconstruction and analysis of the decorative program of the Pompeian arena, see Hufschmid 2009. 2 Mouritsen 1998: 100 has stressed the “largely identical” nature of the wording in the amphitheater inscriptions, but my argument below depends on these differences and so the variations in this final formula are: 6 of 9 write LVD (vs. 2 with LV and 1 simply with L); 3 of 9 write LVM (again vs. 2 with LV and 1 simply with L), but the remaining 3 have neither L, LV, nor LVM at all (i.e. only LVD); 7 of 9 write PRO unabbreviated (vs. 1 with PR and another simply P). 3 See Mouritsen 1988: 99–100, for the most full explanation of this “relatively homogeneous dating, probably to Augustan times”, based on (1) the terminus post quem of the pagus Augustus Felix suburbanus (853; cf. its primi ministri taking office in 7 BCE, CIL X.924); (2) the lack of cognomen for L. Saginius (855–6: typical of Republican or Augustan nomenclature); (3) classical letter forms; and (4) consistency with other biographical data, e.g. this Atullius Celer may also be mentioned in an inscription from 14 CE (CIL X.894: [- - -]li Celer) and Audius Rufus (857b) may be active as a magistrate in the 20s CE (based on the more actuarial letter forms of CIL X.917). Cébeillac Gervasoni 1998: 101 agrees (“tous d’epoque augustéenne”) but elsewhere (120–2) seems to range from the late Republic (Istacidius Cilix), after 49 BCE (Atullius and Audius), to the Augustan period (Cantrius; Saginius). Ville 1981: 182–3 dated the texts to the Sullan era (apart from the magistri pagi). Wiedemann 1992: 14 seems to expand

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CIL X.854 T(itus) Atullius C(ai) f(ilius) Celer ⸨duo⸩v(ir) pro lud(is et) lu(minibus) cun(eum) f(aciendum) c(uravit) ex d(ecreto) d(ecurionum). Titus Atullius Celer, son of Gaius, duumvir, instead of games and lights, saw to the construction of a seating sector, by decree of the town councillors.4

The phrase PRO LVD LV here is a monumental record of Atullius being released from his legal obligation as an elected duovir to produce theatrical games (ludi scaenici), by agreeing to finance a construction project for the public good instead (in this case a block of seats in the amphitheater).5 This law was alluded to in an earlier inscription from the Stabian Baths in Pompeii (CIL X.829), to which we shall return below, but a more explicit and detailed description of a similar loophole has only survived from the charter of another late-Republican Italian town.6 Under this interpretation the additional word LVM here has been understood as indirect evidence that the ludi scaenici obliged by statute in Pompeii also had to be accompanied by some kind of lighting—perhaps the plays were even staged at night—but no clear scholarly consensus has emerged yet.7

4 5

6

7

the text as pro lud(is) lum(ina) and assumes a later date, presumably influenced by his prior discussion of sources for the Flavian period (Suet. Dom. 4.1; Dio 67.8.4; Stat. Silv. 1.6.51–85ff.): “an inscription from the amphitheater of Pompeii (and therefore just pre-dating Domitian’s reign) refers to lights being given for, or perhaps instead of, games”. The translation is from Cooley—Cooley 2004: 47. Thus Cooley—Cooley 2004: 46: “The phrase ‘instead of games’ implies that the ‘benefactors’ concerned were actually thus fulfilling their legal obligation to spend a certain amount of money in their year of office either on games or on a monument.” For a systematic analysis of the sources for such “statutory ludi”, as well as alternative possibilities (such as building a monument or staging a munus), see Chamberland 2003: 159–69, 186–93 with references. See Crawford 1996: 307–8 (= RS 15, ll. 36–8) for so-called Lex Tarentina (“The magistrate … is to pay half into the public treasury and is to spend half on the games which he shall give publicly in that magistracy, or if he shall wish to spend it in public on his monument, it is to be lawful …”), and below for the inscription from the Stabian Baths. Cf. the many other inscriptions from the early Empire that mention spending undertaken pro ludis collected by Chamberland 2003: 167, tab. IX.2 and now also by Cappelletti 2014: 185–6 (especially n. 39) and Engfer 2017: 14, n. 13. The issue is posed as a question by Beard 2010: 198: “[This series of inscriptions] implies that the ordo allowed [magistrates] to spend the required money on upgrading the facilities, rather than on a show itself and on whatever ‘lights’ meant. Were some displays perhaps held at night, with the special lighting?” More ambivalent is Fagan 2011: 109–110, n. 80 (with references): “Lumina were probably decorative lights, it not being unusual for public spaces to be decorated for festivals. (Alternatively, if the function of the lights was more pragmatic, they may offer evidence of nocturnal games.)” On the other hand, Cooley—Cooley 2004: 46:

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One problem with this interpretation is why the provision of artificial lighting might have warranted mention in these inscriptions—and moreover only this particular characteristic of the games, for no further information about any other specific costs or possible content was listed. We must furthermore account for internal variations, such as the fact that lumina were not mentioned in every inscription from the amphitheater, and that it was not only the duoviri or chief magistrates building seats, but also “the magistrates of the suburban district Augustus Felix”.8 A larger question raised by these inscriptions is how common or typical was the practice of substituting public construction projects for spectacles—whether illuminated or not, in Pompeii if not also more broadly throughout Roman Italy and the Empire—and what reasons might explain any regional or chronological differences. Finally nobody has yet demonstrated how exactly such lighting might have worked in any of Pompeii’s three likely venues for ludi, i.e. the Large Theater, the theatrum tectum, and the forum.9 I argue that these pro lud(is et) lum(inibus) inscriptions are better understood not as evidence for illumination accompanying dramatic performances in Pompeii, but rather as a shorthand way of signifying the social and cultural importance of the complex ensemble of collective rituals and components that comprised a particular festival, such as sacrifices, feasts, prayers, and parades.10 Since lighting was evidently not an essential component of all ludi in Pompeii,

8

9 10

“The references to lights allude to performances held at night under artificial illumination”, cf. Fora 1996: 61–2, n.27. Cébeillac-Gervasoni 1998: 101–2 rejects the view of Ville 1981 among others (i.e. public processions during the games, with torches and candles) in favor of a larger concept of “illuminations”, and places Pompeii among sources from the Julio-Claudian court to conclude: “Les spectacles de nuit étaient donc fréquents à Rome et en Italie”. CIL X.853: mag(istri) pag(i) Aug(usti) f(elicis) s(uburbani) pro lud(is) ex d(ecreto) d(ecurionum). In addition to these magistri pagi, the duovir A. Audius A. f. Rufus is only followed by the letters pro lud(is); since the poor condition of the stone today is not legible enough to confirm such a reading—but all the other duoviri have an abbreviated form of luminibus—I have suspended close consideration of his case from this study. The only documentary evidence for ludi in Pompeii records that events were staged in the forum and in the amphitheater (see CIL X.1074d), cf. Lucilius fr. 148 below, n. 51. This possibility was raised at least as early as Overbeck-Mau 1884: 185–6: “Vier andere Inscriften … besagen, dass die magistri der Vorstadt Augustus felix und drei Duumvirn je einen cuneus (d.h. die Sitze desselben), desgleichen vier andere Duumvirn zusammen drei cunei haben machen lassen, und zwar pro lud. oder auch pro lud. lum., d.h. ‘statt der zu gebenden Spiele’ und ‘statt der Spiele und der Beleuchtung’ (pro ludis luminibus), wobei wir dahin gestellt sein lassen müssen, ob die Beleuchtung mit den Spielen verbunden oder von ihnen unabhängig war” (my emphasis).

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the word lumina signaled that either a special type of occasion, or a festival of higher quality than usual, was being celebrated.11 This hypothesis first needs to be tested systematically against local archaeological and documentary evidence, however, and must cohere with the laws, customs, and administrative protocols of the town, before the wider social, political, and cultural implications of any conclusions may be explored more fully. Therefore I shall assess the expansion of the phrase L / LV / LVM as luminibus and evaluate the likelihood of alternative interpretations by examining the inscriptions within the contexts of the local laws, language, and epigraphic practices. Once I have established the definition of this key word, I then briefly survey the evidence for illumination connected to ludi in Pompeii, before supplementing this material with comparisons from other parts of ancient Italy and the Mediterranean, in order to explore what larger causes or issues might have been driving the phenomenon. The inscriptions from Pompeii are located at the intersection of several complex historical contexts, such as the Augustan reforms of religion, entertainment, and morals; the boom in public construction projects throughout Italy and regional competition between neighboring communities; and local politics, including the relationship between civic officials, the town council, and the people. The lifelong members of Pompeii’s town council had the experience and resources to ensure that public money was procured and spent appropriately each year by the annually elected magistrates, but the continuation of the entire political system—even beyond the regular production of costly public games and monuments—depended on the ability of these decurions to adapt to changing circumstances, such as requiring that illumination accompany an annual festival or allowing the construction of seating instead. Taken as a group, the pro lud(is et) lum(inibus) inscriptions from the amphitheater in Pompeii provide an example of how political consensus could be used to reinforce social hierarchies within a community.12

11

12

E.g. the Saturnalia, which involved lighting candles (cereos accendere: 1.7.31) to Saturn and exchanging candles and clay figurines (sigilla arte fictili: 1.11.48–9) at the midwinter solstice (1.1.9), according to Macrobius; cf. the Parilia in April, which was traditionally marked by jumping over bonfires (cf. the Persian Chaharshanbe Suri and the Celtic Beltane), among other rituals (Ov. Fast. 4.721–82, cf. Prop. 4.1.18–21). The technologies of fire and light were often central to pre-industrial festivals, particularly those falling between the autumnal and vernal equinoxes (e.g. the Jewish Hanukkah, the Hindu Diwali, or the fête des lumières in Lyon). This paragraph has been adapted from Eck 1997 and Hölkeskamp 2010: 55–7 and 107–24 especially.

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2

223

Lud(i et) Lum(ina)

The expansion lum(inibus) was already proposed by Theodor Mommsen, who drew on the comparison with an Augustan funerary inscription from Lanuvium that appears to reference “lights (and) games” to the patron divinity Juno Sospita.13 It soon became the common view that the blocks of seating were built by local magistrates instead of games staged with lighting, which they were otherwise legally required to organize.14 This reading still needs to be corroborated, however, on basic lexical grounds, as well as in relation to further archaeological and epigraphic evidence about the production of monuments and mass spectacles in Pompeii during this period. Although the expansion of the three abbreviations used here (i.e. L, LV, and LVM) to represent the word lumen (or lumina) is not paralleled elsewhere, this interpretation (or some cognate thereof) seems to be the most likely possibility.15 Very few words in Latin begin with this combination of three letters, and the rest are highly technical terms unsuitable for communication via the telegraphic but public medium of lapidary epigraphy (if not outright hapax legomena).16 The highly formulaic nature of the inscriptions in this location implies that the three letters LVM must in all cases be understood as communicating the same referent, even if the final letters (M or VM) are sometimes missing.17 Since they always follow some abbreviated reference to ludi, the letters are likely to refer to this context in some way, even though there is no explicit syntactic connection (such as a conjunction or preposition) and a secure morphological relationship would require the case endings to have 13 14

15 16

17

Mommsen, CIL X 1883: 105, citing what is now CIL XIV.2121 = EAOR 4.27 (see below n. 46, for details). So Mau—Kelsey 1899: 212–13. The phrase is presumably a kind of hendiadys (i.e. “pro ludis et luminibus” for “pro ludis illustratis” vel sim.), unless the use of the ablative case for luminibus was understood as communicating accompaniment (i.e. “instead of games with lights”). The neuter noun luminare (also luminarium) could also work as a technically sound expansion, since the word refers to something that produces or gives light, although its use dates almost exclusively to Church Latin long after the burial of Pompeii. The TLL, for example, lists 17 other words or phrases, all of which are related either to a kind of thorn (luma), a worm (lumbricus), or the loins (lumbus); 4 further entries are probably variant spellings caused by Latinization (i.e. lumectum, lumfor, lumphia) or lapicidal error (i.e. lumemulia). The Dizionario Epigrafico Di Antichità Romane defines three further proper nouns: the ethnonym Lumennones; a divinity called Lumiae; and Lumo, a statio on the via Iulia Augusta. In spite of notoriously low literacy rates and the symbolic and visual aspects of monumental epigraphy, Latin inscriptions were still written as though they were intended to be read. See above, n. 2.

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survived. There is no reason why alternative expansions for letters common in Latin epigraphy (e.g. the praenomen Lucius or quinquaginta for the abbreviation L) should be salient here, nor has any punctuation been added (e.g. an interpunct or horizontal line scored respectively) to suggest otherwise.18 Finally the echo created by juxtaposing the shorn syllables lum(inibus) and lud(is)— which share the same initial consonant and long vowel—serves to create an attractive wordplay for the reader while reinforcing their close connection.19 The semantic range of the word lumen, however, is more complicated. For example, lumina often refer to eyes or vision, and so we might entertain here the admittedly redundant possibility of games or a block of seating simply “for the eyes”.20 Another common symbolic sense of the word is to distinguish a person, ornament, or style as being in some way excellent, as, for example, the “wittiness and brilliance” of Greek comedy by comparison with Latin plays.21 Although these particular usages of lumen are salient in the context of the theater, however, they are less plausible as interpretations here than the original, ordinary, and more frequent sense of “light” or “a light, a source of light, a lamp, torch”, which requires no further words or contexts in order to be fully comprehended.22 The only other monumental inscription featuring the word lumina in Pompeii has a similar production context and date as the seating in the amphitheater, since the tuff block documents another construction project carried out by two Augustan-era duoviri according to the decree of the decurions: 2.

CIL X.787 = ILS 5915 M(arcus) Holconius Rufus d(uum)v(ir) i(ure) d(icundo) tert(ium) C(aius) Egnatius Postumus d(uum)v(ir) i(ure) d(icundo) iter(um)

18

Horster 2015: 525 translates the phrase PRO LVD LV CVN as “a block of stone-seats (cuneus no. 55) in the amphitheater instead of financing games”, but the letters LV were also used by Lucius Saginius (855) and there is little reason to suppose that two magistrates sponsored the same block of seats in two separate inscriptions placed on two different cunei; moreover there were only 40 cunei at most in the Pompeian arena (in the upper seats; 20 cunei in the middle; 6 sectors at the bottom). Since Saginius used the letter L to communicate LV on a second inscription (856), and still others employed the letters LVM (857d) at the same point in their text, we have assumed that the letters L, LV, and LVM were abbreviations of varying length for the same word or phrase. TLL s.v. lumen, col. 1823 (appendicula stilistica: 3. lusus verborum, homoeoprophora notabiliora). See TLL s.v. lumen II, coll. 1817–20, cf. the etymology of spectacula, θέατρον, etc. So opines A. Gellius at N.A. 23.2: (sc. comoediae Latinae) ita Graecarum, quas aemulari nequiverunt, facetiis atque luminibus obsolescunt. LS I, B.1 s.v. lumen, cf. TLL s.v. lumen I.B.1.a.i, coll. 1815 ff.

19 20 21 22

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ex d(ecreto) d(ecurionum) ius luminum opstruendorum ⸨sestertibus tribus mille⸩ redemerunt parietemque privatum col(oniae) Ven(eriae) Cor(neliae) usque at tegulas faciundum coera(ve)runt. Marcus Holconius Rufus, duumvir with judicial power for the third time and Gnaeus Egnatius Postumus, duumvir with judicial power for the second time, in accordance with a decree of the town councillors paid 3,000 sesterces for the right to block off light, and saw to the building of a private wall belonging to the colonia Veneria Cornelia as far as the roof.23 Something called the ius luminum opstruendorum, or the “(legal) right of blocking lights” was “bought off” by the duoviri Rufus and Postumus, so they could build a private wall “right up to the rooftiles”. Although the original location of the inscription cannot be reconstructed with precision, it was certainly found near, if not inside, the area of the temple of Apollo, and likely refers to the construction of a wall close by—perhaps even the curtain wall of the precinct between the forum and the temple, which seems to have been formed by stopping up the gaps between a row of piers.24 According to Mommsen, the lumina opstruenda were precisely those apertures between the piers, and the temple needed to be compensated for their property being diminished by the width of the new wall, as well as for a reduction in light caused by its passageways being obstructed. In other words, the language here is the technical jargon of construction and urban planning: the word lumina in the plural signifies apertures such as windows or doors (presumably when considered from the interior), and by extension also the value

23 24

Translation from Cooley—Cooley 2004: 85. The terminus ante quem must be 2 BC, when Holconius Rufus served his fourth term (CIL X. 890). The findspot is described by Mommsen as Pompeii, in the ground near the temple which is said to belong to Venus (“Rep. Pompeiis in terra prope aedem q.d. Veneris”: CIL X: 95), but his diagram of the portico separating the forum from the temple, which explains the ius luminum opstruendorum, clearly cannot refer to the structure known as the Temple of Venus today; it resembles rather the eastern precinct wall of the Temple of Apollo, south of VII 8, 31. According to Mommsen the word privatus refers not to the distinction between private and public property, but rather between sacred and secular land, with the latter including what we might consider as both the property of the private individual and common spaces like the forum, as here.

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of the light entering or falling upon a building.25 We would refer to this type of legal transaction as an easement today, under a type of property law called servitudes, whereby I would have to pay my neighbor, for example, if I wanted to build an enormous tower that cast shade over her mansion or blocked her views.26 Egnatius and Holconius did not stipulate whether or not they were legally required to complete this task “instead of games”, nor whether the funding came from the public coffers or their personal finances—only that they were acting as the officially elected overseers of a public construction project, carried out with the approval of the local council.27 This inscription thus highlights a methodological problem for historians: since epigraphic conventions and formulae were not systematically applied or formally enforced by the individuals producing inscriptions, and since the details of public administration probably varied from one community to the next, it is not always possible to ascertain whether a particular monument has been paid for at private (sua impensa) or public expense (pecunia publica).28 What matters for our purposes, however, is the statutory obligation for Pompeian duoviri to spend money either on games or a building, as explicitly stated in the following Sullan-era inscription from the Stabian Baths: 25

26 27

28

See s.v. lumen in LS I.B.8 and especially in TLL vol. 7.2, I.A.1.d.β (p. 1814, ll. 32–72), where it is noted as a favorite term of the jurists (saepe per plur., ita quidem, ut claritatem singulorum locorum respici passim appareat, notio foraminum nusquam probari videatur; voce q. e. lux omnino spreta adamatur in doctrinis iurisconsultorum, ubi pressius distinguitur sol [sc. et] prospectus), cf. ll. 1–31; p. 1823, ll. 40–5, cf. an earlier inscription from Puteoli: in eo pariete medio ostiei lumen aperito latum p(edes) ⸨sex⸩ altum p(edes) ⸨septem⸩ facito (CIL X.1781 / 1793 = AE 2011.70). See generally Dig. 8.2: De servitutibus praediorum urbanorum. See Pobjoy 2000, whose structural approach identifies four epigraphic possibilities for public buildings or games being funded: voluntary euergetism (sua pecunia); explicit obligation (ex publica pecunia pro ludis); adding some private money to an obliged building (difficult to quantify and identify); tacitly assumed to be fulfilling an obligation. See Crawford 1996: 437 (= RS 25, ch. 70) for the so-called Lex Ursonensis of the Spanish colony of Genetiva Julia, “the first explicit attestations of an obligation on IIviri and aediles to organise shows and pay for them in part out of their own pocket”. To Fiorelli 1875: 73 the duoviri paid for the amphitheater seating themselves, while Cébeillac-Gervasoni 1998: 102–3 reasons that the discrepancy between the number of cunei built implies at least somone exceeding a minimum obligation; in favor of the duoviri spending only public money is Cappelletti 2014: 186–7, cf. 183–4, especially n. 34. The decurions would probably have tried to make Egnatius and Holconius pay these relatively modest sums, since Holconius was fabulously wealthy (cf. CIL X. 833–4). As a comparison, the cost of the marble labrum in the forum baths paid “from public money” by two duoviri (CIL X. 817) was 5250 sesterces, while the standard payment awarded for public burials seems to have been 2000 sesterces (AE 1913.70–1).

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3.

227

CIL X.829 = CIL I.1635 = AE 2009.52 C(aius) Vulius C(ai) f(ilius) P(ublius) Aninius C(ai) f(ilius) IIv(iri) i(ure) d(icundo) laconicum et destrictarium faciund(a) et porticus et palaestr(am) reficiunda(s) locarunt ex d(ecreto) d(ecurionum) ex ea pequnia quod (!) eos e lege in ludos aut in monumento consumere oportuit. faciun(da) coerarunt eidemque probaru(nt). Gaius Uulius, son of Gaius, and Publius Aninius, son of Gaius, duumvirs with judicial power, contracted out the construction of the sweatingroom and scraping-room and the rebuilding of the porticoes and the exercise area, by decree of the town councillors, with that money which by law they were obliged to spend either on games or on a monument. They saw to the building work, and also approved it.29

When placed alongside the pro ludis et luminibus inscriptions from the amphitheater, this text demonstrates a degree of continuity from the late Republic through to the early Principate in terms of both local laws (i.e. requiring magistrates to sponsor games or a public building project) and practices (i.e. demonstrating accountability through public inscriptions). Together these documents hint at a larger body of local laws and ordinances governing construction, like a kind of Pompeian building code, perhaps similar—but not identical—to clauses in other roughly contemporary charters from Roman colonies and municipalities.30 Such continuity, however, would appear to be limited, since the otherwise formal, precise, and detailed language of Vulius and Aninius makes no mention of lighting. At this point the private wall of Holconius and Egnatius may help: if the word lumina in the context of construction could, by a kind of metonymy, essentially mean monumentum (i.e. a large-scale construction project)—since a public, urban structure above ground was bound to affect the previous arrangement of lighting—then the only discrepancy between the inscriptions from the Stabian Baths and the amphitheater would be one of terminology rather than of law or practice. According to such a hypothesis, Egnatius and Holconius specified their typology of monumentum (i.e. paries privatus ad tegulas)—like their earlier and contemporary colleagues (i.e. frigidarium, cunei etc.)—but were the only ones to state explicitly the value of the 29 30

Translation from Cooley—Cooley 2004: 21, with my emphasis added. See also Pobjoy 2000: 80–2 and Cappelletti 2014: 182–4. E.g. Crawford 1996: 307–9 (Lex Tarentina = RS 15, ll. 26–42) and 424 (Lex Ursonensis = RS 25, chh. 75–6), with comments ad loc.

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easement purchased (i.e. 3000 sesterces).31 The highly abbreviated phrase PRO LVD LVM would thus need to be expanded more liberally, perhaps as pro lud(is aut pro) lum(inibus sc. obstruendis). Such an interpretation may also help explain why the “lights” were only mentioned in some of the inscriptions from the amphitheater: even though these blocks of seats were clearly renovations for a public building benefitting the colony (i.e. a monumentum pro ludis), it might have seemed counterintuitive to think of such low, sloping structures as restricting sunlight or sightlines, since blocks of seating were designed precisely to facilitate open viewing without visual impediments—nor were there likely to be servitudes owing since the construction was not at the border of the property, but rather enclosed within an existing structure. This hypothesis, based on local legal jargon, has the advantage of emphasizing continuity in the financing and administration of public games and buildings. But such a reconstruction is hardly parsimonious, and rests on assumptions about the Pompeian constitution—a document that has not survived antiquity. Indeed the fact that the decurions allowed significant alterations to the Stabian Baths suggests that the practical implementation of the law each year was not characterized by a strict continuity or slavish adherence to the previous year, but rather subject to negotiation. This vital role of the decurions in considering and approving public spending is stressed in the composition of the text itself, where their involvement (ex decurionum decreto) establishes a link between the detailed list of structures meeting their approval (laconicum … locarunt) and the legal clause that allowed them to employ this flexibility (ex ea pecunia …). Such negotiation and flexibility made sense given the many variables involved in construction (e.g. cost, topography, or function), but there were clearly also social and political considerations at play. In the case of the amphitheater in Pompeii, the value of a block of seating appears to change, given that the duoviri T. Atullius Celer and L. Saginius built one each, while three cunei were built by four duoviri.32 The organization of public festivals also depended 31

32

It is curious that this is the only local document mentioning the practice: was the easement mentioned by Egnatius and Holconius exceptional, or on the contrary completely mundane (i.e. proper payments were simply implied or understood as being part of what was involved by the phrase faciendum curare)? So Cébeillac-Gervasoni 1998: 102–3. The letters of CIL X.857a–d are chiselled contiguously across three cunei (thus Mommsen: “per cuneos sextum septimum octavum scripti continuo”), and both Latin syntax and epigraphic conventions require them to be read together as a single sentence, as follows: N(umerius) Istacidius N(umeri) f(ilius) Cilix ⸨duo⸩vir pro lud(is et) lum(inibus), A(ulus) Audius A(uli) f(ilus) Rufus ⸨duo⸩vir pro lud(is), P(ublius) Caesetius Sex(ti) f(ilius) Capito ⸨duo⸩vir pro lud(is et) lum(inibus), M(arcus) Cantrius M(arci) f(ilius) Marcellus ⸨duo⸩vir pro lud(is et) lum(inibus) cuneos

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on varying factors, and additional features like lighting could have been one of the considerations negotiated with duoviri by the decurions before arriving at a decision—just as Vulius and Aninius were tasked with specific duties (i.e. both construction and renovation) related to particular structures (i.e. destrictarium and laconicum vs. porticus and palaestra respectively).33 From a philological perspective then, the phrase LVM should be expanded to luminibus, which probably referred to an expense required of magistrates in addition to games, rather than an easement owed on a monument or any other meaning of lumina. But the precise significance and implications of these additional “lights” are not clear. Was the illumination understood as referring to theatrical performances, or to other particular rituals and components of the larger dramatic festival—or to yet another function quite separate from the games altogether, such as lighting for public streets or urban spaces in a more general sense? 3

Lights and Pompeian Games

The archaeological evidence for artificial illumination at Pompeii consists largely of portable lamps and candelabra. Such small and crude devices alone, however, could not easily have produced enough light to illuminate a nocturnal performance even if they were employed in very large numbers—let alone anywhere near as well as the sun.34 Experiments with lanterns and chandeliers in European drama date back at least to the mid-16th century, and since the technology of theaters in Elizabethan England and Renaissance Italy did not differ greatly from their Roman counterparts, any illumination not coming from the sky would probably have required some kind of mirrors, wax, oil, or naked flame. Floodlights, houselights, and spotlights were simply not possible.35 While many public and domestic structures maximized natural light through apertures in the roof or walls, such as open-air theaters or the compluvia of the classic atrium-type house, there were few architectural elements

33 34 35

⸨tres⸩f(aciendos) c(uraverunt) ex d(ecurionum) d(ecreto). Nevertheless it is not uncommon to see the names quoted as though separate (e.g. ILS 5653a–b). Less likely is that Vulius and Aninius understood lighting to be implied by the word ludi but did not write it down, given how elaborately they stipulated their legal obligations. Held 1990: 53. See Almqvist 2003: 72, for the first use of oxyhydrogen limelights on stage, perhaps at the Covent Garden theatre in 1837. The October 15, 1878 edition of the Sheffield and Rotherham Independent reported that two 8000-candlepower electric lights were used to illuminate a football match the previous night at Bramall Lane.

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that facilitated artificial lighting and little research has been conducted on the subject.36 It is therefore important to consider the question of lighting in relation to Pompeian ludi from technological and logistical angles. In the Large Theater at Pompeii, several architectural features could have assisted artificial lighting. At the front of the stage there were three rectangular recesses on each side of a rounded central niche, while the facade of the scaenae frons behind was articulated with much larger niches at many levels, all of which could have housed lamps. The subterranean passage beneath the front of the stage afforded swift and inconspicuous lateral movement, which could have been exploited by attendants needing to trim wicks, supply oil, or add additional lamps even during a performance. The side wings of the stage were also large enough to have housed substantial candelabra. The set and scaenae frons could have been highlighted therefore, with lamps placed downstage also serving as footlights, while lighting in the wings could have raked across performers to provide a contrasting effect. These highly speculative suggestions might have enhanced existing types of theater, but it seems unlikely that they could have adequately supported performances at night. By contrast the facade of the scaenae frons for the smaller theatrum tectum was plainer, without any surviving articulation, nor were niches or tunnels located at the front of the stage. Lighting options would thus seem limited to placing candelabra in the side wings of the stage or on the colored marble floor of the orchestra.37 As its name suggests, a roof sheltered the spectators and performers, although this must have been raised above a clerestory of windows, in order to admit light.38 The lack of direct sunlight suggests that the theatrum tectum was more likely than the Large Theater to have employed artificial illumination. Moreover its smaller size meant that fewer lamps, candles, mirrors, and torches would have been needed to provide dramatic effects, and the roof must have helped protect flames from the elements.39 But neither of the purpose-built theater complexes in Pompeii has produced a sizeable

36 37 38 39

Exceptions are Held 1990, Griffiths 2014. Bronze letters, set into the pavement, recorded that the marbles were also installed “pro ludis” by a certain M. Oculatius Verus (CIL X.845), during the same period as our inscriptions. For the name theatrum tectum, see CIL X. 844 = ILS 5636. A curious paradox is captured by Lucretius, discussing the marvellous effects of rich colors: the more completely sheltered a theater is from external light, the more colorfully shine the awning and scenery i.e. Lucr. de Rer. Nat. 4.80–3: et quanto circum mage sunt inclusa theatri / moenia, tam magis haec intus perfusa lepore / omnia conrident correpta luce diei.

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assemblage of lamps, candelabra, or mirrors, nor less direct evidence of lighting, such as burn marks.40 The forum was the third and final location where dramatic performances were staged in Pompeii.41 The colonnades and windows of the buildings surrounding the open area must have supported lamps or candles, since the multi-purpose nature of the space precluded a fixed or monumental system of lighting.42 The forum was thus more suitable for generally festive lighting than for theatrical illumination, although it is theoretically possible that the temporary structures built to stage performances in the forum during the ludi could have been designed in such a way to support lights on a large scale.43 In sum, while artificial lighting stood to improve the ambience on stage more than genuine visibility, there is little positive evidence to suggest that performances after dark would have been likely, let alone desirable or regularly practiced. But even if the problem of illumination at Pompeii were to vanish, due weight must still be given to the literary, documentary, and archaeological evidence for other dramatic festivals during the early years of the Principate, particularly in the relatively urbanized, wealthy, and integrated communities of central Italy. 4

Beyond Pompeii

Roughly contemporaneous with our Pompeian inscriptions is a public record of the ceremonies carried out as part of the Secular Games of 17 BCE, including Latin plays performed at night.44 The detailed nocturnal activities were not exclusively theatrical, however, and the cost of public lamps also extended to related rituals such as the sacrifices performed by Augustus next to the Tiber. These games were by definition exceptional: revived by the princeps at great cost and effort after centuries in abeyance, they were ostensibly held no more 40 41 42 43 44

See e.g. Fiorelli 1862: 160 (25th August 1764). Large metal objects such as candelabra were commonly salvaged, hoarded, or reused. See the epitaph of A. Clodius Flaccus (CIL X.1074d), who also sponsored gladiator fights and hunts during his exceptionally lavish ludi. On the placement of theaters in the forum during the Republic, see Vitr. 5.3.1–3. See Lucil. book 3, fr. 148 and n. 51 below. Vitruvius discusses the acoustics of theaters at great length (5.3.4–8, 5.5, 5.8) but does not mention lighting or visibility. CIL VI.32323 = ILS 5050: nocturnal plays were performed on May 31st (ludique noctu, sacrificio [co]nfecto, sunt commissi in scaena) and June 1st (neque sunt l[udi i]ntermissi iei qui noctu coepti erant fieri) along with sacrifices, while plays, sacrifices, and prayers were conducted over three days.

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than once in a maximum human lifespan. The unusual nature of these performances was underscored by the fact that the stage was not surrounded by the tiered seating common in a theater, nor indeed were any seats placed in the area. This lack of seating during the night-time theater hints at the real focus of the spectacle: the piety and respectability symbolised by the 110 married Roman women—one matrona for each year of the saeculum (religious cycle)—holding ritual chairs for divinities (sellisternia).45 The innovative public spectacles and religious rituals carefully orchestrated by Augustus, Agrippa, and thirteen other priests (quindecimviri sacris faciundis) can hardly be cited as supporting evidence for practices in a much smaller community like Pompeii, with the tiniest fraction of resources available, and no comparable tradition of Secular Games. According to a lost inscription from Lanuvium, the local notable M. Valerius was honored in part for having sponsored “games and lights” to Juno Sospita at about the same time as our Pompeian inscriptions, and in very similar language (lumina ludos).46 There is no mention of the time of day that the ludi took place, nor what the relationship between lights and games might have been. But the document is careful to distinguish Valerius’ gift to the people of a feast and gladiators from the offering of lights and sacred games that “he alone” (solus) made for their patron divinity—and only after detailing his career and enumerating the public works and buildings he paid for (de sua pecunia). The hierarchical organization of this document thus culminates in a clear concern for piety and proper religious ritual. Indeed Valerius seems to have modeled his behavior on the Secular Games of Augustus, i.e. an occasion where offerings had also been made to Juno Regina (among other divinities), and where the princeps had performed sacrifices on

45

46

Augustus and his fellow quindecimviri stipulated explicitly that no theater was to be set up (theatrum adiectum non fuit nullis positis sedilibus … centumque et X [ma]tronae quibus denuntiatum erat XVvirorum verbis sellisternia habuerunt Iunoni et Dianae duab[us] sellis positis), cf. Suet. Aug. 31.4, where he expressly forbade any male or females youths from attending “any nocturnal spectacle” (ullum nocturnum spectaculum) at the Secular Games without adult supervision. CIL XIV.2121 = ILS 5683 = EAOR 4.27: M(arco) Valerio M(arci) f(ilio), aed(ili), dict(atori), praef(ecto) Iuventutis, municipes compitenses veicorum quinque, quod specus ⸨millia⸩ passus MMM purgavit, refecit, fistulas reposuit, balnea virilia utraque et muliebre de sua pecunia refecit, populo viscerati(onem), gladiatores dedit, lumina, ludos I(unoni) S(ispiti) M(atri) R(eginae) solus fecit. The asyndeton may serve to strengthen the alliteration of lumina and ludos mentioned above. A date of 27 BCE to 14 CE (based on the formulas and language) is offered by F. Squadroni, EDR 111524 (17/06/2004). For the theater in Lanuvium, see CIL XIV.2127 = AE 1963.37.

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his own over the course of several nights.47 Thus the phrase lumina ludos solus fecit could have referred to Valerius conducting the religious parts of the ritual by himself, while the more public components (viscerationem, gladiatores) obviously required wider participation (populo). A more ordinary interpretation is that Valerius was the only Lanuvian ever to produce both lights and games for Juno Sospita, and that he did so without any colleague (perhaps as dictator), but such exceptional benefactions and religious innovation were also characteristic of Augustus’s accomplishments.48 The proverbially wealthy temple at Lanuvium was one of the young Octavian’s creditors early on during the civil wars (App. BC 5.24), and since the loan was returned “with thanks” (σὺν χάριτι), the town probably enjoyed a close relationship with the Emperor. Although still highly exceptional then, the activities of Valerius in Lanuvium suggest a possible link between the nocturnal sacrifices and spectacles of the Emperor in Rome and the hypothetical use of lights at Pompeian ludi. The common thread in all three Augustan documents is the proper religious and legal conduct for public entertainment. Augustus and Valerius were careful to underscore their piety in pushing their spectacles beyond the natural limits of daylight, however, because lighting could also have negative connotations. A different kind of imperial imitation is thematized in the biographical and historical traditions, where a series of anecdotes attaches the topos of increasingly illuminated spectacles to several domineering and sadistic emperors of the Julio-Claudian and Flavian dynasties.49 The rhetoric especially emphasizes their moral corruption: the unnatural hubris of Gaius forcing the night to conform to his will; Nero’s light shining so brightly that every sin is revealed; and Domitian staging gladiator fights “at night, by torchlight” (noctibus ad lychnuchos)—and sometimes even including female combatants.50 The imperial biographers and historians thus transformed a practice that had signified piety in earlier inscriptions into another excessive attribute of the tyrannical ruler. 47

48

49 50

See CIL VI. 32323: The sacrifices to the Moerae (line 90), Ilythia (115), and Terra Mater (134) took place at night, while those performed with Agrippa were during the day, e.g. the sacrifice to Juno Regina (119–121): ⸨quattuor⸩ nonas Iun(ias) in Capitoli[o i]nmolavit Iunoni Reginae bovem femin[am propriam Achivo ritu] M(arcus) Agrippa et precatus est hoc modo. Cf. Aug. RG 22, where individually and jointly sponsored games are distinguished (in the same language, i.e. ludos facere), and where the novelty (primus) of games is noted: Ludos feci meo nomine quater, aliorum autem magistratuum vicem ter et viciens…. consul XIII ludos Martiales primus feci. As pontifex maximus Augustus revived ancient festivals and priesthoods—and created new ones—and built or renovated scores of temples throughout Rome and the Mediterranean (RG 19–21, cf. Suet. Aug. 31.4–5). Held 1990: 58–59. Respectively Suet. Gaius 18–19; Tac. Ann. 14.21, cf. 15.44; Suet. Dom. 4.1, cf. Stat. Silv. 1.6.85 ff.

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But such anecdotes are not supporting evidence for practices in a small community such as Pompeii during the Augustan principate. The traditional pose adopted by Augustus in reviving the Secular Games hinted at earlier Roman models for illumination at ludi scaenici. An early reference to lights at games comes from the fragments of Lucilius, where the eruption of Stromboli at night is evidently compared to sparks from hot iron and to “the forum on occasion, decorated with lamps during the festival of the Roman Games”.51 The implication is that the lamps were both bright and densely packed amid the ambient glow of the forum, presumably during the night, where mass spectacles were staged before the permanent structures of the Campus Martius were built in the first century. The word olim in both these fragments must emphasize the regularity of both occurrences, rather than their obsolescence or extinction (i.e. “sometimes” rather than “formerly”).52 It is unclear whether or not Lucilius imagined plays being staged at this time and whether or not anything may be read into his specific reference to the ludi Romani, as opposed to other festivals or ludi more generally. Since the Roman aediles provided “statues and lights”, according to Cicero—presumably at the ludi Romani that they organized (as curules)—the two ornaments might be construed together not as functionally necessary (i.e. for providing light), but rather as embellishments for transforming the forum from its everyday appearance into a more festive atmosphere.53 The selection and placement of the lamps and statues may have been designed to ensure that the flickering flames highlighted and contrasted the contours of these polished bronze or pale marble surfaces. The impression of an abundance (crebrae ut scintillae) of discrete lamps (lucernis) imagined by Lucilius would have been best experienced not during dramatic performances or chariot races—where they would 51 52 53

See Krenkel 1970, pp. 158–9 with references, commenting on Lucilius fr. 148: Romanis ludis forus [sic] olim ornatus lucernis; cf. fr. 146–7: crebrae ut scintillae, in stricturis quod genus olim ferventi ferro. Quoted at TLL vol. 9.2 s.v. olim 1.B.I.a.γ.i (col. 560, ll. 16–18). See Cic. Nat. Deor. 1.9.22: quid autem erat quod concupisceret deus mundum signis et luminibus tamquam aedilis ornare? The sentence turns on the clever double meanings of signa and lumina (i.e. both the celestial and festival contexts), but the wordplay and sense depended on Cicero’s allusions being familiar to his readers. Since the origins of the ludi Romani were militaristic, the practice of illuminating the forum may be related (again: symbolically, rather than functionally) to Livy’s aetiology of the aediles decking out the forum with golden armor following the victory of L. Papirius Cursor during the Samnite Wars (9.40.2): Dictator ex senatus consulto triumphavit, cuius triumpho longe maximam speciem captiva arma praebuere. Tantum magnificentiae visum in his, ut aurata scuta dominis argentariarum ad forum ornandum dividerentur. Inde natum initium dicitur fori ornandi ab aedilibus cum tensae [sc. ludis circensibus] ducerentur.

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have been obscured by the tiered seating anyway—but during the other ritual components of the games, such as prayers, processions, sacrifices, and feasts, or simply during the night more generally. The most likely locations for these lamps were within the area of the very temples to whose divinities the festivals were devoted.54 The windowsills and exterior ledges of any other buildings surrounding the forum could also have been used for this purpose, perhaps similar to the custom among Roman Jews on the sabbath as described by Persius.55 Indeed the temporary wooden structures built for theatrical performances in the forum would have presented a fire risk. While the grander occasions, more decadent expenses and lavish entertainments, and imperial patronage of games in Rome differed greatly from the festivals in Pompeii, lamps were a more affordable but effective element that smaller communities could have easily supplied. Comparisons with other Mediterranean towns may be useful therefore, in order to test whether or not the games of the imperial center set fashions or disseminated ideology and expectations throughout the empire. In Ibiza an inscription perhaps belonging to the Neronian age records that the interest earned from a bequest was intended to pay for annual games in the future “accompanied by vessels of lights”.56 The connection between theatrical performances and stage lights is never explicitly established here, although perhaps there is some attempt to distinguish between vessels employed for acoustic purposes and those for lighting.57 In an Antonine-era will from Calabria, the deceased specified the types of lighting and dining equipment to 54

55

56

57

For the lighting of temples cf. Held 1990: 57, with references to the Palatine Apollo (Pl. HN 34.14), the Capitoline (Cic. Verr. 28.32), and, most spectacularly, Tarentum (Athen. 700d). She underscores illumination at festivals in the capital city: “Festbeleuchtungen sind seit ältester Zeit überliefert, und bei den Römern wird es geradezu zum Topos für große Feiern, zu sagen, die ganze Stadt sei beleuchtet und bekränzt”. See Pers. 5.179–82: at cum / Herodis venere dies, unctaque fenestra / dispositae pinguem nebulam vomuere lucernae / portantes violas” etc., explained by the scholiast as the day on which Jews “lucernas accensas et violis coronatis in fenestris ponunt”. For the dies Herodis as the weekly sabbath (and not the birthday of Herod), see Brunner 1968: 63–4. CIL II.3664 = ILS 6960 = CIBalear 192: P(ublius) X et C(aius) Cornelius Servinus h(eredes) et curatores operis eius p(osuerunt). hic r(ei) p(ublicae) Ebusit(anae) XC milia numorum legavit ut…. reliqua VI milia fenerarentur et ex usuris ludi ederentur quodannis cum vas(is) lum(inum) na[t(ali)] eius V [kalendas?]. See Veny 1972: 168–70 for the problem of inaccuracies in the text’s transcription and transmission. The suggested expansion of the phrase in question—i.e. ludi … cum vas(is) lum(inum), instead of cum luminibus—is unparalleled, even if the general sense of the document is straightforward. See Vitr. 5.5 (apparently not found in Rome, “sed in Italiae regionibus et in pluribus Graecorum civitatibus”).

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be purchased for local priests of the imperial cult from the interest on his bequest.58 Finally an acrostic epitaph from Timgad, Algeria boasts that the young Vincentius, “glory of the pantomimes”, “held the stage until the evening stars appeared”.59 Lighting is not mentioned, but one implication of this extravagant claim is that some illumination would have been a practical necessity for audiences leaving the venue if they really were held in thrall by—or demanded encores from—the maestro. Here nocturnal performances were not associated with a heightened degree of sanctity or transgression, but rather with greater refinement and popularity.60 These comparanda have stressed the many components of Roman ludi beyond plays, since the only unequivocal evidence for lighting during theatrical performances involves the grand sponsorship of the imperial household, which has been recorded by historians, priests, or Emperors precisely because they considered such extraordinary occasions worthy of note. The principal function of artificial lighting elsewhere was therefore to enhance the visual appeal and symbolic value of the entire complex of ritual sacrifices, prayers, processions, feasts, and games known as ludi. 5

Beyond Theaters

So far I have argued that the lumina and ludi from the Pompeian inscriptions should be construed together. An alternative hypothesis is nevertheless worth testing briefly, namely that some other type of public artificial illumination was being referred to, perhaps in another location for leisure (e.g. baths), or in the sense of public streetlights more generally.

58

59 60

See CIL X.114, among which are the following details: volo autem ex usuris semissibus (sestertiis) ⸨decem milia⸩ n(ummum) comparari Augustalium loci n(ostri) ad instrumentum tricliniorum duum quod eis me vi⟨v⟩o tradidi candelabra et lucerna[s] bilychnes arbitrio Augustalium quo facilius strati[o]nibus publicis obire possint. AE 1956.122 = Bayet 1967.441: Vincentius hic est pantomimorum decus…. tenuit theatrum usque in ortus vesperos istic humatus nunc habet pro moenibus…. The concept of extending the hours of daylight is again ambivalent: Vincentius emphasizes his success and talent, yet a more cultivated gentleman such as Plutarch would have interpreted such behavior as a sign of excess and poor manners, cf. Plut. Quaest. Con. 8.726a. By the 4th century at least the phrase usque ad vesperum has become the common expression for continued daytime practice, cf. Acta Archelai 61.5 (usque ad vesperum permanere, etiam accensis luminaribus) and the anaphora of the Vulgate Leviticus, ch. 15 (where usque ad vesperum appears 14 times). I am grateful to Mali Skotheim for the references to Vincentius and Plutarch.

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In the Forum Baths at Pompeii small niches, blackened with soot, provide clear evidence of illumination, but they cannot possibly have supported the over 1300 lamps that were found in the complex.61 Since nearly half of these lamps derived from a single corridor, the space was more likely being used for interim storage than long-term illumination. The light from the niches alone cannot have even rivalled the light in the spaces during daytime hours, and so the lamps would at most have served to enhance the ambience during the day and aid a nightwatchman after dark. The baths were probably lit at public expense, but there is no reason to connect this possibility to the magistrates building seats in the arena. In the streets, compital shrines embedded within some facades certainly offered enough space and shelter for a small flame. The light from such niches, however, could only have sufficed for navigation at best, and it seems more likely that local shopkeepers, residents, or perhaps vicomagistri, rather than local authorities, took care of such provisions, to judge from the way that pavements and shrines were maintained piecemeal rather than centrally. Small, white stones placed in the stretch of road between the forum and Porta Marina may well have helped reflect light in the dark much like cat’s eyes. But again these stones bore no discernible relationship to the ludi, and other Latin phrases would have been more suitable to describe the installation of this very limited technology (e.g. pro viis sternendis). For later periods, especially in the streets and baths of the major cities in the eastern Empire, the archaeological and epigraphic evidence for artificial illumination is very good.62 But nothing about the inscriptions or material culture from Pompeii suggests that these isolated and abbreviated references from the arena amounted to early testimony of public lighting ever being the norm in local baths or streets. 6

The Politics of Games in Augustan Pompeii

The social and political implications of the inscriptions from the amphitheater are no less important than questions already discussed about the purpose and nature of public lighting in Pompeii. In particular the process of making, executing, and finally communicating decisions about local festivals (i.e. ludi) and civic monuments (i.e. cunei) reveals how the relationships between 61 62

See Held 1990: 59 and Griffiths 2014: 13. E.g. Lib. Or. 11.267, Amm. Marc. 14.1.9, or the Arkadiane in Ephesus: see generally Held 1990.

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magistrates, the town council, the people of Pompeii, and the imperial center all functioned. I have argued that the same decision-making body flexible enough to allow duoviri to build public monuments instead of games on occasion was also able to raise the cost of those legally required games by demanding a higher degree of ornamentation. These higher demands were driven by competition between politically ambitious individuals, coupled with increasing expectations from the people and from decurions.63 Without an extremely wealthy individual sponsor, only a stable and influential institution like the town council could have provided the continuity and large-scale resources needed for long-term projects such as the construction of masonry seats throughout the amphitheater, or the incorporation of more minor officials like the magistri pagi or Augustales into the local system of public works, entertainment, and honors. Moreover the patrons who represented the interests of Italian towns in Rome were drawn from the decurions, and they would thus be well placed to communicate the politics and culture of the capital, such as the innovations of the Augustan Secular Games.64 Let us return therefore to examine the role played by decurions in these specific games and monuments of Pompeii, namely their decisions first to require lights with games, and then to allow cunei be constructed by duoviri in lieu of such games. The only explicit record of ludi being performed in Pompeii is the epitaph of A. Clodius Flaccus, which records in great detail the diverse attractions he organized in the forum and amphitheater during three years in office, including the costs and source of funding.65 Nowhere are lights mentioned, but since Flaccus appears to have exceeded the minimum expectations by such a great amount—providing gladiators, all manner of entertainments and pantomimes (omnibus acruamatis pantomimisque omnibus), including Pylades, the favorite of Augustus—it seems churlish to fault him for neglecting to mention or provide this type of ornamentation. Since the games were dedicated to Apollo, our assumption is that they were celebrated in July, as in Rome.66 63 64 65 66

See Hölkeskamp 2015: especially 98–101 and 121–4, on such competition in Republican Rome. During the Augustan age, this role was filled by M. Holconius Rufus (CIL X.830, 848, 948), who had also rebuilt the Large Theater at private expense. CIL X.1074d = ILS 5053.4 = Sabbatini Tumolesi 1980: no. 1. The paradox of ludi is that they are most commonly mentioned in inscriptions precisely when they are not being held, i.e. when monuments are built pro ludis. In contrast with the advertisements for gladiatorial games (edicta munerum), which record exactly which days the munera were to be staged, the ludi were presumably regular, another reason why they are assumed to be statutory: see Chamberland 2003 and Sabbatini Tumolesi 1980.

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It is likely that in Pompeii, as elsewhere, one of the first tasks for the decurions each year was the confirmation of the annual budget and the festival calendar proposed by the newly elected chief magistrates.67 Elected officials did not typically record their sponsorship of ludi in durable inscriptions, since this expense was obligatory and therefore “self-evident”.68 If a magistrate voluntarily exceeded the legally required amount, however, or rejected public subsidies altogether, such acts of generosity were considered worthy of lasting commemoration—particularly in the case of monuments able to support such texts. These pro ludis inscriptions may thus imply that each block of seats was more costly than games. The reference to lights extends this logic further into the realm of the imagination, since the seats would have been equivalent to games of a particularly high quality that never actually existed.69 The creation of the category “games with lights” meant that the more lavish games organized by the chief magistrates (duoviri iure dicundo) were implicitly superior to those organized by lower officials, in this case the magistri pagi suburbani Felicis Augusti, who only built seating pro lud(is).70 In this way the resources to finance public building projects could be maximized without detracting from the obligations, reputations, and dignity of the duoviri building blocks of seats and the ordo decurionum as a group; by contrast we do not even 67

68 69

70

See e.g. González—Crawford 1986: 194: “The duumviri who are in charge of the administration of justice in that municipium are to raise with the decuriones or conscripti at the earliest possible moment how much should be spent for expenses on religious observances and games and how much on dinners which are offered to the municipes or the decuriones or conscripti in common, and they are to spend as much as the majority of them decides, as they may think proper” (Lex Irnitana, ch. 77). Note that the budget of this Flavian municipium in Spain included “religious observances” (sacra) and “dinners” (cenae) as well as ludi. Cf. Crawford 1996: 422 (Lex Ursonensis = RS 25, ch. 64), where magistrates had ten days to schedule the dies festi and sacra publice facienda before a quorum of two-thirds of the decurions. Eck 1997: 309–315 (“selbstverständlich”; I am grateful to the anonymous reviewer for this reference). See also Engfer 2017: 14–15. The counterfactual imagination is paralleled in a Republican inscription from Capua, which records that full rights would be retained by the magister or collegium of the pagus Herculaneus (including a public seat in the theater), “just as if they had put on games”, even though they had built a portico instead (CIL X.3772 = ILS 6302: locus in teatro esset tamqua(m) sei {sei} lu[d]os fecissent). See the discussion by Cappelletti 2014: 187–9. Since only L. Saginius is identified explicitly as a duovir iure dicundo, the other duoviri nude dicti (i.e. lacking more detailed titular) could theoretically have been duoviri [v(iis) a(edibus) s(acris) p(ublicis) p(rocurandis)], i.e. aediles. See Mouritsen 1988: 28 on this expansion of “duumviri VASPP”, examples of which were collected by Mommsen CIL X 1883, p. 109 (including CIL X.885–6, 890 from the Augustan period). For aediles and duoviri paying different amounts for games in Spain, see Crawford 1996: (Lex Ursonensis = RS 25, chh. 70–1), and cf. below n. 82 for collaborations between aediles and duoviri in Pompeii.

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know how many magistri pagi there were in Pompeii, let alone the names of whoever built their seats in the amphitheater.71 This logic of the local by-laws regulating both magistri pagi and duoviri is also paralleled further down the social ladder in the sanctuary of Fortuna Augusta near the Pompeian forum, where an inscription from 45 CE records that “marble bases instead of statues” were given in accordance with “the law of the attendants of Fortuna Augusta”.72 Such a network of by-laws integrated the upwardly mobile individuals and institutions of the nascent Principate with more traditional public officials, but at the same time presupposed a degree of consensus about the hierarchical nature of the larger social structure. Finally, the reference to lights as ritual adornments may also have been a way of signaling alignment with the dominant values communicated by the princeps himself at occasions like the Secular Games, as discussed above. The masonry technique of the vaulted box-seats crowning the top of the amphitheater has been tentatively dated to these same years, when women in Rome were being banned from mass spectacles unless relegated to the back.73 According to Suetonius, Augustus sought to enforce the toga as a kind of dresscode in the forum and circus (Aug. 40.5) and forbade anyone dressed in dark clothes (45.2: quis pullatorum) from sitting anywhere other than the very back of the theater. The effect of large crowds all wearing bright white can only have been heightened by lamps during festivals and must have enhanced a sense of belonging to a unified group.74 The symbols and mores of the Augustan principate were thus highly conspicuous and embedded in every part of society, which made them ideal vehicles for cultural transmission. The decision by the decurions to authorize the construction of permanent stone seating in the amphitheater, as opposed to any other type of monuments, likewise improved the quality of public entertainment while reinforcing social hierarchies and conforming to Augustan behavioral norms. Like the laws of late-Republican and Augustan Rome, the concentric walls dividing each block of seating into three areas served to isolate and focus attention on the minority 71 72

73 74

Cf. CIL X. 814 = ILS 5198 for the magistri pagi again appearing only as a group, without individual names. CIL X.825: Tauro Statilio Ti(berio) Pla(u)ti{li}o Aelian(o) co(n)s(ulibus) L(ucius) Statius Faustus pro signo quod e lege Fortunae Augustae minist(r)orum ponere debebat referente Q(uinto) Pompeio Amethysto quaestore basis duas marmorias decrever[u]nt pro signo pon⟨e⟩ret. For the definition of signum as statue or work of art, see L&S II2c cf. Cic. Div. 1.35.77. Bomgardner 2002: 48–9 provides the terminus post quem and also the interpretation for the so-called opus vittatum here. See Fagan 2011: 81–2, 138–47 for the concept of “social identity” and the types of content expressed at Roman games.

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of sponsors, public officials, and leading citizens at the front, while the radial walls separating cunei allowed further subdivision into groups.75 Spectators thus re-performed the social structure every time they took their seats in the amphitheater.76 If visitors to Pompeii were segregated by such subdivisions, as is implied by Tacitus’ narrative of the riot in 59 CE (Ann. 14.17), this seating arrangement may also have facilitated greater social organization and internal cohesion, allowing better communication through more focussed acclamations and perhaps also greater revenues, if ticket sales targeted non-citizens attending a regionally competitive performance venue.77 This spatial representation of social and political hierarchies explains the placement of the inscriptions about the magistri pagi close to the longer axis, at the northern and southern ends of the eastern side of the amphitheater. Since the tribunal, located on the shorter axis, was the seat reserved for the organizer of the games and most important spectators, as well as the best seat in the house, it is fitting that the duoviri received the honor of constructing the blocks of seats closer to the middle of the action. It is even possible that the magistri pagi received seats within the blocks that they sponsored—in which case these inscriptions were also communicating and commemorating this public honor.78 And yet it is misleading to describe the massive project of constructing masonry seats for the amphitheater as the outcome of a single decision, because the one-year term limit on duoviri meant that the entire project must 75

76 77

78

See Rawson 1987: 86, 98–9, for the dates of the leges theatrales (Roscia and Augusta), which legislated seats in Roman theaters, although the precise nature of grouped seating is not as clear at the amphitheater in Pompeii as in Rome or some other towns of the early Empire. According to Fiorelli 1875: 73, in each of the cunei in Pompeii’s amphitheater, individual seats (posti) were delimited by red lines, presumably on either side, and marked with painted numbers (distinti con numeri dipinti); he must be talking about the media cavea since he also mentions the small recesses at the back of each seat for the feet of the spectator behind, which were missing from the podia of the ima cavea. Such a system, similar to what was found in the Large Theater, clearly represented an attempt to control access—and not only in the most exclusive seats. See Edmondson 1996: 81–112 for a detailed discussion of this phenomenon in early Imperial Rome, cf. Hölkeskamp 2010: 55–7, 59–61, on the importance of re-performing rituals of symbolic capital more generally during the Roman Republic. For the possibility of profiting from staging gladiatorial games, see Ville 1981: 215–16 and especially the survey by Engfer 2017: 195–9, cf. Chamberland 2007, who explains the collapse of the amphitheater at Fidenae by inferring that only locals were given free access—i.e. not the people of Rome, who would have comprised the lion’s share of the crowd. The idea about acclamations is proposed by Rawson 1987 and picked up by Fagan 2011. Suggested by Fagan 2011: 110.

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have taken at least three years.79 The tuff balustrade and benches, however, appear to belong to a single or continuous construction phase—produced in a uniform style, from the same type of material, with identical letter forms and minimal variations in epigraphic formulas.80 The seating in the amphitheater of Pompeii, at least on its eastern side, may therefore be interpreted as a concerted effort and long-term project under the stewardship of the council of decurions.81 The negotiations behind a similar transaction are hinted at in the inscription from the Forum Baths, which was built with public money and the approval of the decurions by three magistrates in concert—one duovir and two aediles.82 The local council thus essentially subvented this initiative by redistributing public funds from festivals towards building seats in the amphitheater. The chief alternative to this kind of public funding was privately sponsored munificence, and it can be no coincidence that around the same time the two wealthy benefactors rebuilding the Large Theater of Pompeii at their own expense, M. Holconius Rufus and M. Holconius Celer, chose to emphasize explicitly in at least two marble inscriptions, each over six metres long, the different sections of seating they built: both the exclusive boxes situated conspicuously above the main entrance corridor on each side of the orchestra (tribunalia), as well as the very highest seats at the back of the theater, supported by an annular peripteral corridor (crypta).83 The careers of the duoviri who built the 79 80

81 82

83

The simplest interpretation of the six duoviri is that they comprised three consecutive pairs of magistrates; perhaps the construction was completed over six years, with one colleague sponsoring annual games alone and the other providing the money for ludi. Cf. Overbeck-Mau 1884: 641, n.79, who rejected dating based on weathering: “Ältere und jüngere Stufen zu unterscheiden, scheint unmöglich; vielfache Prüfung führt immer wieder dahin, dass die vorhandenen Unterschiede auf verschiedener Härte des Steins beruhen”. We may also hypothesize a similar sequence on the western side of the amphitheater, where structural renovations following the earthquake of 62 CE suggest damage that may have effaced equivalent inscriptions. See Eck 1997: 314–15, 327–9 for the possibility of building projects lasting several years and for the complex, specific, and otherwise invisible process of negotiation implicitly behind each public expression of munificence. CIL X.819: L(ucius) Caesius C(ai) f(ilius) d(uum)v(ir) i(ure) d(icundo), C(aius) Occius M(arci) f(ilius) L(ucius) Niraemius A(uli) f(ilius) ⸨duo⸩v(iri) d(e) d(ecurionum) s(ententia) ex peq(unia) publ(ica) fac(iendum) curar(unt) prob(arunt)que. See Mouritsen 1988: 28–30, 77, 81 on the date and on the office of aediles in Pompeii. Both Tosi 2003 and Sear 2006 date this third phase to the Augustan period, 3/2 BC and 13/14 CE, based on the reconstruction of these inscriptions (CIL X.833–4): MM(arci) Holconii Rufus et Celer cryptam tribunalia theatrum s(ua) p(ecunia). For the description of the stone, see Cooley—Cooley (2004), p. 67. A third very fragmentary marble inscription also appears to commemorate the same building phase, but the layout of the text is different and there is also a reference to the colony (perhaps either a gift to the colony,

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seating in the amphitheater were much more obscure, however, by comparison with the many honors awarded to the Holconii, who received public statues in the theater.84 As the largest permanent performance venue in Pompeii, the arena was the location where the most people stood to benefit, and so it makes sense for public funds to be diverted there. The placement of the inscriptions on the front balustrades of the amphitheater suggests that their real audience were the most privileged spectators occupying the best seats. The purpose of the inscriptions and symbolic authority of the decurions must have been clear, however, since their location was also the focal point of all spectators in the arena—even if very few were able to discern the words at a distance, much less read them. The balustrades and seats of the amphitheater thus provided a ready canvas for even relatively obscure magistrates and community organizations to contribute publicly to civic amenities while promoting themselves in a more durable way than organizing festivals. Unfortunately there is no way of knowing whether or not these particular duoviri managed to capitalize further on their contributions, by staging games in the newly renovated arena, for example, or being re-elected. The addition of ornamental lighting for ludi and masonry seats in the amphitheater in Pompeii each worked for the benefit of the people, who received improved amenities; for the magistrates too, who gained honor as well as improved media for promoting themselves; and also for the council that succeeded in enhancing already effective tools for publicly reinforcing existing social hierarchies. With more lavish festivals and improved facilities, the town of Pompeii itself improved its position as an attractive venue for mass spectacles within a regional market that seems to have been highly competitive.85 The final beneficiary could be said to be Augustus himself, whose introduction of illuminated rituals and new codes of behaviour (cura morum), and whose insistence on distinctions in rank (discrimina ordinum), appear to have been communicated effectively at least as far as Pompeii.86

84 85 86

cf. coloniai: CIL X.852 in the amphitheater; or an allusion to Holconius Rufus as the patronus coloniae, cf. CIL X.838): [M(arcus) M(arcus) Holcon]ii Rufus [et Celer] [cryptam tri] bunal(ia) thea[trum] / [- - -] coloni[ae?]. See Mouritsen 1988: 99–100, with references. The presence of these statues in the theater is implied by dedicatory inscriptions naming each individual in the dative case and enumerating their honors (CIL X.837–8; probably also the less complete inscriptions 839–40). See Sabbatini Tumolesi 1980: 91–110 for advertisements of munera gladiatorum staged in other Campanian towns being painted onto facades in and around Pompeii. For this model of Augustan rapprochement after a century of lengthy and destructive civil wars, see generally Rawson 1987, although she cautions that “the roles of legislation” and “voluntary imitation” of Rome (e.g. by Pompeii) are “impossible to distinguish” (114, n.79).

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Bibliography Almqvist, E. 2003. History of Industrial Gases. New York. Bayet, J. 1967. “Les vertus du pantomime Vincentius.” Mélanges de littérature latine. Rome. Beard, M. 2010. Pompeii. London. Bomgardner, D.L. 2002. The Story of the Roman Amphitheatre. Glasgow. Brunner, T.F. 1968. “A Note on Persius 5.179 Ff.” California Studies in Classical Antiquity 1, 63–64. Cappelletti, L. 2014. “Die Finanzierung von Spielen in Italien und Hispanien gemäß den lokalen Stadtgesetzen (1. Jh. v.Chr. - 1. Jh. n.Chr.).” In Sport und Recht in der Antike, edited by K. Harter-Uibopuu and T. Kruse, 167–93. Vienna. Cébeillac-Gervasoni, M. 1998. Les Magistrats des Cités Italiennes de la Seconde Guerre Punique à Auguste: le Latium et la Campanie. Rome. Chamberland, G. 2003. The Production of Shows in the Cities of the Roman Empire: A Study of the Latin Epigraphic Evidence. Diss. (McMaster). Chamberland, G. 2007. “A Gladiatorial Show Produced in Sordidam Mercedem (Tacitus ‘Ann.’ 4.62).” Phoenix 61, no. 1/2, 136–49. Cooley, A.E., and Cooley, M.G.L. 2004. Pompeii: A Sourcebook. London. Crawford, M.H. (ed.) 1996. Roman Statutes. London. Eck, W. 1997. “Der Euergetismus im Funktionszusammenhang der kaiserzeitlichen Städte.” In Actes du Xe Congrès International d’épigraphie grecque et latine, edited by M. Christol and O. Masson, 305–331. Paris. Edmondson, J. 1996. “Dynamic Arenas: Gladiatorial Presentations in the City of Rome and the Construction of Roman Society during the Early Empire.” In Roman Theater and Society, edited by W.J. Slater, 69–112. Ann Arbor. Engfer, K. 2017. Die private Munifizenz der römischen Oberschicht in Mittel- und Süditalien. Wiesbaden. Fagan, G.G. 2011. The Lure of the Arena: Social Psychology and the Crowd at the Roman Games. Cambridge. Fiorelli, G. 1862. Pompeianarum Antiquitatum Historia. Naples. Fiorelli, G. 2001. La descrizione di Pompei per Giuseppe Fiorelli (1875). Edited by U. Pappalardo. Naples. Fora, M. 1996. I munera gladiatoria in Italia: considerazioni sulla loro documentazione epigrafica. Naples. González, J. and Crawford, M.H. 1986. “The Lex Irnitana: A New Copy of the Flavian Municipal Law.” Journal of Roman Studies 76, 147–243. Griffiths, D. 2014. “‘Licht ins Dunkel bringen’: Künstliche Beleuchtung in Pompeji.” Antike Welt 45.1, 10–14.

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Held, W. 1990. “Künstliche Beleuchtung und Architektur.” In W.-D. Heilmayer, ed., Licht und Architektur, 53–60. Tübingen. Hölkeskamp, K.-J. 2010. Reconstructing the Roman Republic : An Ancient Political Culture and Modern Research. Princeton. Horster, M. 2014. “Urban Infrastructure and Euergetism Outside the City of Rome.” In The Oxford Handbook of Roman Epigraphy, ed. C. Bruun and J. Edmondson, 515–36. Oxford. Hufschmid, T. 2009. Amphitheatrum in Provincia et Italia. Augst. Krenkel, W. 1970. Gaius Lucilius. Satiren. Berlin. Mau, A. and Kelsey, F.W. 1898. Pompeii, Its Life and Art. New York. Mouritsen, H. 1988. Elections, Magistrates, and Municipal Élite. Rome. Overbeck, J.A., and Mau, A. 1884. Pompeji in seinen Gebäuden, Alterthümern und Kunstwerken. Leipzig. Parslow, C. “Entertainment at Pompeii.” In The World of Pompeii, ed. J.J. Dobbins and P.W. Foss, 212–23. London. Pobjoy, M. 2000. “Building Inscriptions in Republican Italy: Euergetism, Responsibility, and Civic Virtue.” In The Epigraphic Landscape of Roman Italy, ed. A. Cooley, 77–92. BICS Supplement 73. London. Rawson, E. 1987. “Discrimina Ordinum: The Lex Julia Theatralis.” Papers of the British School at Rome 55: 83–114. Sabbatini Tumolesi, P. 1980. Gladiatorum paria. Rome. Samonati, G. 1979–80. “Lumen.” Dizionario epigrafico di Antichità romane, fasc. 69. Rome. Sear, F. 2006. Roman Theatres: An Architectural Study. Oxford. Tosi, G. 2003. Gli edifici per spettacoli nell’Italia romana. Rome. Veny, C. 1972. Corpus of Balearic Inscriptions up to the Arab Conquest. Wetteren. Ville, G. 1981. La gladiature en Occident des origines à la mort de Domitien. Rome. Wiedemann, T.A.J. 1992. Emperors and Gladiators. London.

Chapter 14

Casting a Wide Net: Searching for Networks of Gladiators and Game-givers in Campania Virginia Campbell Games, you are everywhere. CIL IV 8031

⸪

The graffito above, found in the vestibule of a Pompeian house, notably written in an elliptical shape reminiscent of an amphitheater, illustrates the ubiquity of games in the first century BCE. (See Fig. 14.1). Games, races, and spectacles were an important component of political and civic life in the ancient world. Munera, gladiatorial competitions, were originally a private demonstration related to funerary rites and memory, first attested at the funeral of Junius Brutus Pera in 264 BCE (Val. Max. 2.4.7; Livy Per. 16; Servius ad Aen. 3.67).*,1 When Pompeii became a Roman colony in 80 BCE, the shift had already begun in the nature of gladiatorial games from funerary rites to public spectacles, which is evident in the construction of the amphitheater by colonial magistrates around 70 BCE. This evolution is made clear in the dedicatory inscription of Pompeii’s arena, which refers to the structure as a “spectacula,”2 a name that Welch argues “emphasizes the functional aspect of the building for spectators to congregate and watch.”3 By the time the city was destroyed one hundred and sixty years later, gladiators and game-givers had come to represent a significant portion of the epigraphic texts in Pompeii and other areas of Campania. * With thanks to the Leverhulme Trust and the John Fell Fund at the University of Oxford for providing funding for this research as well as conference attendance, and to the many participants at the Second North American Congress of Greek and Latin Epigraphy who provided useful comments on the original version of this paper. 1 Wiedemann 1992: 5. 2 CIL X 852 = CIL I2 1632 = ILS 5627 = ILLRP 645 ‘C(aius) Quinctius C(ai) f(ilius) Valgus / M(arcus) Porcius M(arci) f(ilius) duovir(i) / quinq(uennales) coloniai honoris / caussa spectacula de sua / peq(unia) fac(iunda) coer(averunt) et coloneis / locum in perpetuom deder(unt). “Gaius Quinctius Valgus, son of Gaius, and Marcus Porcius, son of Marcus, quinquennial duovirs, for the honour of the colony, saw to the construction of the amphitheatre at their own expense and gave the area to the colonists in perpetuity.” 3 Welch 2007: 76.

Networks of Gladiators and Game-givers in Campania

Figure 14.1

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Munus te ub(i)q(ue)

There is funerary evidence that memorialise the games sponsored by magistrates of the town,4 but there are many more examples of dipinti and graffiti chronicling the importance of games in the city.5 These texts range from advertisements for games, to records of individual fighters and their successes and failures, to common boasting of the gladiators’ prowess outside of the arena in regards to female conquests.6 The texts in Pompeii are but a small proportion of more than five hundred Latin inscriptions relating to games found across the empire.7 These texts, some of which mention other cities, have led scholars to conclude that there was a circuit of games and gladiators operating in the region of Campania, moving from town to town much like the local markets, or nundinae.8 The evidence for the existence of such a circuit for games, however, has not been fully explored. In theory, the epigraphic attestations of gladiators and games should demonstrate the existence of a regional network. Finding such a network, then, is best approached by the application of network theory, utilising the data set of the epigraphic corpus to find textual links 4 Most notable, the epitaph of Aulus Clodia Flaccus (CIL X 1074d), and the decorative frieze depicting gladiatorial combat on a tomb outside the Porta di Ercolano. Campbell 2015: 164–6; Jacobelli 2003: 90–2; Mazois 1812: I Pl. 30–2; Sabbatini Tumolesi 1980: 62–9. 5 It has been suggested that those who went to the amphitheater to watch the gladiators are responsible for scratching their names, images, or wins and losses into the walls of the city. Garraffoni 2008: 229. 6 See, for example, CIL IV 4356 = ILS 5142d, CIL IV 8916, CIL IV 4397, and CIL IV 4353 = ILS 5142e. For further discussion see Varone 2002: 68–70. 7 Chamberland 2012: 262. These are primarily honorific inscriptions for the magistrates and other municipal elite who organized games. 8 Benefiel 2004: 349; Coleman 1999: 44; Coleman 2005: 9; Sabbatini Tumolesi 1980: 91–110; Shadrake 2005: 84; Tuck 2008–2009: 134. In regards to the nundinae, de Ligt suggests the evidence from Campania indicates that it was customary for town based traders to visit the markets of other towns. There is no evidence to suggest this was not also true for gladiatorial shows and other games. de Ligt 1993: 113–7, especially 116.

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between editores, lanistae, gladiators, the training schools, and the communities in which they operated. In Pompeii, the extant texts not only demonstrate the importance of the ludi in local life—as indeed it appears to have been a requirement of magisterial duties9 as it was elsewhere in the Roman world (Cic. De Off. 2.57–58) – but also connect the activities in Pompeii to the wider region. Texts tie Pompeii and its gladiators and game-givers to the neighbouring cities of Nola, Nuceria, Puteoli, Herculaneum, Cumae, and Cales, as well as to the gladiatorial school in Capua. By applying network theory to the texts from Pompeii and other towns, in conjunction with archaeological remains, it is possible to show the connected nature of the civic centers of Campania through those involved in the ludi and munera. The development of gladiatorial combat in Campania is evident both archaeologically and epigraphically. Kathryn Welch has chronicled the rise of the amphitheater in the region from the early first century.10 Pompeii has one of the first permanent stone arenas, and there are a further thirteen Republican stone structures in the region, including those in Capua, Cumae, Cales, Puteoli, and Nola.11 Besides the sheer number of arenas in the region, it is important to remember the size of them.12 The majority of Republican era amphitheaters held something in the range of twenty to twenty-two thousand spectators.13At Puteoli, both the Republican venue and the amphitheater built by the Flavians were used continuously throughout late antiquity,14 whereas 9

10 11 12

13

14

CIL X 829. See also the charter of Urso, the Lex Ursonensis, which states that one thousand sescterces were granted to each of the aediles to celebrate the games (ludi) of Jupiter, Juno & Minerva that lasted for four days, with the expectation that they supply a further two thousand sesterces from their own funds. ILS 6087; Wiedemann 1992: 9. Welch 2007: 72–101. Welch 2007: 82–3. By the end of Pompeii’s lifespan in the Flavian period, there were sixteen amphitheaters in the region, including new, larger constructions built in the first century CE to expand seating capacity in Capua and Puteoli. The capacity of the amphitheaters is an estimate, based on calculations using the length of the overall structure, the length of the cavea and arena floor, and the dimensions of any extant seating. At Pompeii, for example, the overall size of the amphitheater is 134.8 m in length and 102.5 m in width. The cavea has a width of 34 m, and the arena floor measures 66.8m by 34.5 m. Seating is divided into three sections, with the largest seats in the ima cavea having a width of 0.88 m, and the smallest in the media and summa caveae only 0.58 m. The capacity of 22,000 is based on the possible seating available using these dimensions. Welch 2007: 189–94. Pompeii: 22,000, Cumae: 20,000, Puteoli 20,000. Welch 2007: 194, 206, 221. The amphitheater at Nola went through a number of phases of renovation, including one in the early imperial period that extended the seating area to hold approximately 20,000 spectators. Welch 2007: 240–1. Welch 2007: 199.

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Capua’s Republican arena seems to be abandoned after a larger one was built by Augustus.15 What is notable about the size of these arenas is that in most instances, the seating capacity outnumbers the estimated population of these communities by a range of eight to ten thousand people.16 Seemingly then, the archaeology in and of itself could be used to argue that there was an expectation for visitors from other towns to attend spectacles. Some evidence of this is found in the ancient literature. Tacitus, in describing the calamity that occurred in the town of Fidenae when a poorly built amphitheater collapsed, ascribed part of the problem to the throngs of people who, denied games by the emperor Tiberius, had flocked there from Rome, some five miles distant (Tac. Ann. 4.62–63).17 Coleman argues that in describing the various nationalities of the spectators who have come to Rome in Spec. 3, Martial is referencing the previous two epigrams, thereby indicating the newly constructed Flavian Amphitheater is one of the major attractions of the city.18 However, the existence of an amphitheater in and of itself does not always indicate that games did or did not take place. An arena has never been found in the city of Herculaneum, and yet, there is evidence for games. In addition to the discovery near the theater of a large number of pieces of armament that have been identified as gladiatorial (rather than military), there are a few texts that tell us games were taking place somewhere in the city:19 CIL IV 10579 = EAOR VIII.10 VIII K(alendas) Martias / Numisii Genialis / gladiatorum paria X / Herculani. On 22 February (at the games of) Numisius Genialis, ten pairs of gladiators will fight at Herculaneum. In order to hold games, the magistrate or other sponsor required a good supply of gladiators. The major supplier, not just to Campania but to Italy more 15 16

17 18 19

This was later renovated by Hadrian. Welch 2007: 202. At Pompeii, for example, most scholars give a population estimate in the range of eight to twelve thousand, which would fill approximately half of the amphitheater assuming every single resident was in attendance. Recently, a more precise number of 7,291 to 11,757 has been suggested based on calculations of house and room numbers. Flohr 2017: 53–86, especially 64; Wallace-Hadrill 2015: 125–6. Cf. Chamberland 2007. Coleman 2006: 37–41. Coleman suggests that it was likely that, as at Pompeii with the quadraporticus, a covered portico at Herculaneum was converted to house gladiators or for displays of combat. Angelone 1989–90; Coleman 2005: 6.

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generally, was the ludus at Capua.20 Strabo mentions Campania as one of the “most salubrious” locations for training due to the nature of the climate and the population (Strabo Geog. 5.4.13).21 The school is first attested in the second century BCE, when it was owned by Gaius Aurelius Scaurus (Val. Max. 2.3.2). The school is probably best known as the place from which Spartacus and his band of gladiators began their revolt in 73 BCE (Livy Per. 95, App. BCiv 1.14, Plut. Vit. Crass. 8.1). Fear of gladiators and their ability to either revolt, or to be employed to the physical or military benefit of their owner is evident in the ancient sources, all of which suggest that gladiators were kept inside towns, where they would have, in fact, posed the greatest threat (Cic. Catil. 2.9, 2.26, 3.8; Tac. Hist. 2.34–6; Dio 44.16.2).22 During Julius Caesar’s aedileship in 65 BC, the Senate limited the number of combatants that any one person could keep in the city at a time out of fear they could be used to seize power (Suet. Iul. 10.2). This is not a surprising development considering that when Caesar invaded Italy in 49 BCE there was such concern he might use gladiators from his ludus in Capua against his opponents, that the forces of Pompey distributed them, two apiece, amongst houses rather than allowing them to be kept together at the school (Caesar BC 1.14; Cicero Ad Att.138).23 By the time Caesar had come into possession of the school in the first century BCE,24 it had a capacity of approximately five thousand gladiators, and thus was a force to be reckoned with (App. BCiv. 1.14, Cic. Att. 138, 152).25 Called the ludus Iulianus in the first century, there is some debate as to whether or not it was passed into imperial ownership, eventually being renamed the ludus Neronianus.26 One series of 20

21 22 23 24 25 26

Schools are attested epigraphically elsewhere (EAOR II 78 and EAOR IV 23) but do not appear to supply gladiators in the same numbers as the ludus at Capua. This changes in the Flavian period with the construction of the Colosseum at which time demand for gladiators became so high it was necessary to construct a larger school. The ludus Magnus, credited to Domitian, is adjacent to the Flavian amphitheater and had a capacity of ten thousand gladiators in training. Coarelli 2001: 148–150; Coleman 2005: 6; Weidemann 1992: 22, 41. Coleman 2005: 5. Coleman 2005: 5; Weidemann 1992: 27. Coleman 2005: 8; Weidemann 1992: 27. The school was, as far as can be attested, owned by aristocrats from the city of Rome, not by Capuans. Welch 2007: 91. Jacobelli 2003: 19; Welch 2007: 91. According to Suetonius (Iul. 31), Caesar had plans to build another ludus at Ravenna, although this never came to fruition. Jacobelli seems reluctant to assert anything more than a possibility that the Julian and Neronian schools are one in the same (2003: 19). Bomgardner and Shadrake both claim that it was Caesar’s school that was transferred from emperor to emperor until Nero changed the name, later being superseded by Domitian’s larger school in Rome as the imperial training ground for gladiators (Bomgardner 2000: 24, 55; Shadrake 2005: 84). Fagan (2011: 211), citing Sabbatini Tumolesi (1980: 147–9) seems more inclined to think they are

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graffiti, describing games given by Marcus Mesonius, include gladiators identified as both Iulianus and Neronianus, which suggests that these were either two separate entities, or there was at the very least some overlap between the epithets used by the combatants once the name changed.27 A number of graffiti and edicta munera found in Pompeii specify that the gladiators being used are from the Neronian school.28 In addition, a collection of helmets found in the Quadraporticus were inscribed with the name of Nero or Nero Augustus, demonstrating ownership by the state run ludus.29 Evidence for gladiators of the Neronian school being used in other Campanian communities, is however, scarce. The one instance comes from a graffito in Pompeii, well-known for the accompanying drawing of gladiatorial combat, which states that two Neronian gladiators, Hilarus and one known only as “Princeps”, fought during four days of games at Nola. CIL IV 10236a, 10237, 10238a = GladPar 71 M(arcus) Att(ilius) | M(arcus) Attilius (pugnarum) I |(coronarum) I v(icit) / L(ucius) Raecius Felix |(pugnarum) XII |(coronarum) XII m(issus). Munus Nolae de / quadridu(o) / M(arci) Comini / Heredi(s). | Pri⟨n⟩ceps // Ner(onianus) (pugnarum) XII |(coronarum) XII / v(icit). | Hilarus Ner(onianus) |(pugnarum) XIV |(victorirum) XII. | Creunus |(pugnarum) VII (coronarum) V m(issus). M(arcus) Attilius t(iro) v(icit) | Hilarus Ner(onianus) (pugnarum) XIV (coronarum) XIII / m(issus).

27 28

29

separate entities, with Nero establishing his own school in addition to the Julian hand me down. In addition, Kyle (1998: 71, n. 19) citing Weidemann (1992: 22), suggests that the inscription AE 1979: 33 demonstrates a gladiatorial school associated with Tiberius. This could, in theory, be used to support both arguments: that the ludus Iulianus had its name changed multiple times by subsequent emperors, or that later emperors founded their own training academies. CIL IV 2508; Sabbatini Tumolesi 1980: 147–9; Bomgardner 2000: 238, n. 69–70. CIL IV 1189–91, 1421, 1422, 1474, 2387, 2508, 7987, 10236, 10237, 10238a. There are three attestations of this school contained in inscriptions found in Rome, demonstrating the peninsula-wide spread of those from the Capuan ludus. CIL IV 10172 = ILS 5152 = EAOR I 33 and CIL IV 10173 = EAOR I 34 both name a doctor of the school, Eutychus Neronianus, a freedman of the emperor, and AE 1988: 27 = EAOR I 87 documents the wins of a gladiator named Amanus. A further five inscriptions found on funerary cippi in Spain also name gladiators from the imperial school(s). Three texts, found in Corduba, name men who fought as murmillo from the Neronian school: CIL II2/7 359 = EAOR VII 23 = AE 1962: 46; CIL II2/7 361 = EAOR VII 24 = AE 1962: 48; CIL II2/7 355 = EAOR VII 31 = AE 1962: 47. Iuliani are named in two additional funerary epitaphs, one from Corduba and one from Gades. CIL II2/7 365 = EAOR VII 21 = AE 1962: 45; EAOR VII 29 = AE 1962: 58 = AE 2011: 501. Jacobelli 2003: 66.

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Figure 14.2 Visualisation of CIL IV 10236–8

Marcus Attilius. Marcus Attilius, fought once, won once, victor. Lucius Raecius Felix, fought twelve, won twelve, (earned a) reprieve. Games of Marcus Cominius Heres at Nola over four days. ‘The Prince’, Neronian, fought thirteen, ten victories, victor. Hilarius, Neronian, fought fourteen, won twelve, victor. Creunus, fought seven, won five, (earned a) reprieve. Marcus Attilius, novice, won. Hilarus, Neronian, fought fourteen, won thirteen, (earned a) reprieve. If this is presented as a network, it demonstrates a link between the school at Capua, and the cities of Pompeii and Nola. (See Fig. 14.2). Connections between communities are primarily found in the edicta munera that advertise games or in graffiti recording victories of specific fighters. One of each type of text, both found in Herculaneum, demonstrate clearly how interconnected the games circuit was. The first, a graffito beneath a drawing of two gladiators fighting, now unfortunately lost, was found between doors 15 and 16 of Insula IV: CIL IV 10528 = EAOR VIII 34 Euhodus / et Satura / Puteolani. Euhodus and Satura at Puteoli. This can be mapped to show a network between the two fighters and the towns where they performed and where this performance was recorded. (See Fig. 14.3). A more complex example comes in the form of a dipinto advertising games at Nola. At first glance it appears straightforward, in that it simply states the name of the town. (See Fig. 14.4). However, like many of the edicta, it records the name of the man employed to paint the sign in addition to the location of games.

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Figure 14.3 Visualisation of CIL IV 10528

Figure 14.4

Photo of AE 1989: 182b author’s photograph

AE 1989: 182b Nola // Scr(iptor) / Aprilis a / Capua. Nola. Aprilis the scriptor, from Capua. Aprilis, the man responsible for painting the sign, hails from Capua, but was putting up an advertisement for games taking place in Nola, in Herculaneum. This seems an overly complicated route for a scriptor to take, but one can imagine a scenario in which he is employed by the school at Capua, charged with advertising games featuring gladiators from the ludus, regardless of where they might take place. Thus it makes a bit more sense to find a notice such as this, written by a man from Capua advertising games in Nola, in a third location, that of Herculaneum. This may seem a tenuous conclusion, I admit, but such is the nature of the evidence. This dipinto, therefore, links an individual involved in games to three separate communities. (See Fig. 14.5).

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Figure 14.5

Visualisation of AE 1989: 182b

The ideal text, one linking a gladiator or a game patron with multiple cities, patrons, or events, unfortunately only exists in the form of a single graffito. Found in the House of the Gladiators in Pompeii, scratched into a column in the peristyle, this text documents two wins by a gladiator named Florus.30 CIL IV 4299 = GladPar 78 V K(alendas) Aug(ustas) Nuceriae Florus vic(it) / XIIX K(alendas) Sept(embres) Herc(u)lanio vicit. Florus won at Nuceria on the 28th of July and won at Herculaneum on the 15th of August. This allows a connection to be made between one person and three cities, which is the largest network that can be based on the name of a single individual. (See Fig. 14.6).

Figure 14.6

30

Visualisation of CIL IV 4299

Coleman suggests that the use of names that were blatantly inappropriate for a combative sport such as ‘Narcissus’ ‘Little Violet’ were a sort of stage name. Florus is likely such a name. Coleman 2005: 11.

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In order to demonstrate more conclusively that there was, in fact, a network of games in Campania, it is necessary to look to the cities themselves. Epigraphic evidence for a network of games is found on the walls of Pompeii. Here, there are twenty-two texts, both edicta and graffiti, that identify gladiatorial combat taking place in another city. (See Table 1). Like the entire corpus of graffiti and dipinti situated in Pompeii, two of the towns that appear most often are Nuceria and Puetoli.31 Nuceria’s frequent appearance is likely due to its proximity: at eleven kilometres it is the closest sizeable community in relation to Pompeii. For Puetoli, however, the nature of the city as an important port, a center of business activity,32 and the fact that by the Flavian period it boasted two amphitheaters,33 must have been motive for frequent travel from Pompeii as well as other towns in the region. The fact that twenty-two instances of games are being advertised in Pompeii, much like the Nolan advertisement in Herculaneum, suggests that these announcements were worthy of the time and expense of placing them. In other words, there was an expectation that members of the population of Pompeii were willing and able to travel to neighbouring cities in order to watch games. These distances might be considerable, ranging from the relatively short eleven kilometres to Nuceria to the eighty kilometre distance to Forum Popillii in the ager Falernus. (See Table 2). In the ancient world, this is a journey of a day or more, and would have undoubtedly required spending at least one night away from home. Including other towns that have an archaeologically attested amphitheater in the Flavian period not only expands the number of places one might have gone for games, but also the distance, with Aeclanum ninety kilometers away. One other aspect of the epigraphic record worth considering is a further eighteen texts found in Pompeii advertising games and spectacles at home, texts that specify the event is taking place in Pompeii.34 It can be concluded, therefore, that the need to 31 32 33

34

Benefiel 2004: 349–367. Jones 2006: 21–33. The total combined seating capacity of the Republican and Flavian amphitheaters is estimated at fifty seven thousand five hundred. Based on the dating of late antique finds in the Republican amphitheater, it is believed they were both used at the same time. This may be supported by the large number of trap doors built into the later arena, which indicate that it was constructed specifically to host venationes, whereas the other structure may have continued to host more traditional combats. Welch 2007: 221; Bomgardner 2000: 72–3. CIL IV 9979 = GladPar 2; CIL IV 9980 = GladPar 3; CIL IV 9981a = GladPar 4; CIL IV 3884 = ILS 5145 = GladPar 5; CIL IV 7992 = AE 1915: 61a = GladPar 7; CIL IV 1185 = GladPar 8; CIL IV 7991 = AE 1991: 433 = GladPar 9; CIL IV 1179 = ILS 5143 = GladPar 10; CIL IV 7993 = AE 1915: 61b = AE 1949:9 = GladPar 12; CIL IV 3883 = GladPar 13; CIL IV 1180 = GladPar 15; CIL IV 7989a, c = GladPar 18; CIL IV 1181 = GladPar 19; CIL IV 7988b–c = GladPar 20A;

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identify the location of the games was due to the fact that it was standard practice to see announcements for a variety of cities on the walls of a single town. In order for a passer-by to know where the games were scheduled to occur, the scriptor had to include the town. There is one further city that may have been visited with some regularity for games or other shows, and that is the capital itself, Rome. Tuck compiled the epigraphic evidence from Pompeii of gladiatorial contests and games that included a specific date (i.e. day and month), and in so doing, was able to demonstrate that there are corresponding gaps in the Campanian schedule that would allow residents to travel to Rome to attend games and festivals in the capital.35 This is particularly evident for the month of July when there are no games held in the region between the fourth and twenty-eighth of the month.36 During this time, however, Rome hosted the Ludi Apollinares (6th to 13th of July), mercatus Apollinares (14th to 19th of July), and Ludi Victoriae Caesaris (20th to 30th of July).37 The two hundred forty kilometer journey to Rome from Pompeii (or other cities) in Campania is hardly unusual. Senators and aristocrats had, after all, been coming south to holiday in luxury villas on the Bay of Naples since the second century BCE. Further evidence of travel to Rome from the region comes from the Sulpicii Tablets, wherein a number of financial disputes are taken to the praetor in Rome to adjudicate.38 Where one had to appear in Rome for vadimonium, an allowance of up to two months was permitted, rather than the usual stipulation of two to seven days.39 This was undoubtedly to allow time not just for travel but also to give the individual an (admittedly limited) option as to when to travel. Being able to negotiate this court appearance to coincide with days of games, markets, or festivals taking place in Rome would have been beneficial not just for leisure activities but potentially also for business. Whilst I would not include Rome in a circuit of Campanian games, the evidence that some did travel that far for a variety of

35

36 37 38 39

CIL IV 1189 = GladPar 21; CIL IV 1190 = GladPar 22; CIL IV 1186 = GladPar 25; CIL IV 9962 = GladPar 27. Tuck 2008: 25–34; 2008–2009: 123–43. This study is important for establishing the schedule of games taking place within the Campanian region, but as it does not consider epigraphic evidence lacking dates, it does not take the full extent of a possible games network into consideration. CIL IV 1180 attests games in Pompeii, CIL IV 4299 lists the next contest at Nuceria at the end of the month. Tuck 2008–2009: 135–136. Summons to appear for litigation in Rome appear in TPSulp. 13–15, 19 and 27. Jones 2006: 145–6, 156–7. TPSulp. 27; Jones 2006: 145.

Networks of Gladiators and Game-givers in Campania

Figure 14.7

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Visualisation of the epigraphic network map of gladiators and games

reasons, including spectacles, suggests that regional movement was already an accepted and expected aspect of life. The arguments herein are based on the extant epigraphic material, which by nature is limited to what survives, not what originally existed. If the level of preservation in places like Nola, Nuceria, and Capua was more akin to that of Pompeii and Herculaneum, the ability to map a network would be much greater. However, if the epigraphic material that names either towns or individuals that can be linked to at least one more person or place is visualised, the map does show a small but complex network. (See Fig. 14.7). The most surprising result of this visualisation is that, based on the number of connections, Herculaneum is but one degree removed from Pompeii in being identified as the ego, or central actor, of this network. Pompeii is connected to nine places or individuals, and Herculaneum eight. What is particularly remarkable about this result is the lack of an arena or dedicated space for the display of gladiatorial or other games in Herculaneum. That the city has such a high degree of connectivity to other towns (or gladiators) in the region involved in games suggests that a network of these activities involved communities regardless of the presence of an amphitheater. This could indicate the importance not only of the games themselves, but of the existence of a network in and of itself.

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It has long been held by archaeologists and ancient historians that a circuit of games, whether munera or ludi, existed in Campania. This paper has been an attempt to use the epigraphic material in order to map such a circuit, using network theory to find the connections between individuals and communities involved in such activities. Whilst the number of texts, specifically in Pompeii but also elsewhere, demonstrate without a doubt the importance of games and spectacles in the public life of the towns of Campania, it is more difficult to connect these activities to an organised regional circuit. However, the existence of scattered examples from both Pompeii and Herculaneum for individual fighters in conjunction with the edicta munera announcing games in other towns found in Pompeii indicates that it is more a lack of the ideal type of evidence, such as the text celebrating the victories of Florus, than a total lack of a network in the region. The archaeological evidence, the contributing factor of the ludus at Capua, and the few texts that do indicate multi-city interactions, when combined, build a strong case for a wide-spread network operating in Campania. Bibliography Angelone, R. 1989–90. “Spettacoli gladiatori ad Ercolano e gli edifice da essi postulate.” Società nazionale di Scienze lettere ed arti Napoli. Rendiconti della Accademia di archeologia, lettere e belle arti 62: 215–243. Benefiel, R.R. 2004. “Pompeii, Puteoli, and the status of a colonia in the mid-first century AD.” In F. Senatore, ed., Pompei, Capri e la Penisola Sorrentina, 349–367. Capri. Bomgardner, D.L. 2000. The Story of the Roman Amphitheatre. London. Camodeca, G. 1999. Tabulae Pomprianae Sulpiciorum (TPSulp.) Vols. 1–2. Roma. Campbell, V.L. 2015. The Tombs of Pompeii: Organisation, Space, and Society. London. Chamberland, G. 2007. “A Gladiatorial Show Produced in sordidam mercedem (Tacitus Ann. 4.62).” Phoenix 61: 136–149. Chamberland, G. 2012. “La mémoire des spectacles: l’autoreprésentation des donateurs.” In K. Coleman et al., eds., L’organisation des spectacles dans le monde romain, 261–294. Vandœuvres-Genève. Coarelli, F. 2001. “Ludus Gladiatorius.” In A. La Regina, ed., Sangue e Arena, 147–152. Roma. Coleman, K. 1999. “Graffiti for Beginners.” The Classical Outlook 76.2: 41–47. Coleman, K. 2005. Bonds of Danger: communal life in the gladiatorial barracks of ancient Rome. University of Sydney. Coleman, K. 2006. M. Valerii Martialis Liber spectaculorum. Oxford. de Ligt, L. 1993. Fairs and Markets in the Roman Empire. Amsterdam.

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Dunkle, R. 2008. Gladiators: Violence and Spectacle in Ancient Rome. Harlow. Fagan, G. 2011. The Lure of the Arena: Social Psychology and the Crowd at the Roman Games. Cambridge. Flohr, M. 2017. “Quantifying Pompeii: Population, Inequality, and the Urban Economy.” In M. Flohr, A. Wilson, eds., The Economy of Pompeii, 53–86. Oxford. Garraffoni, R.S. 2008. “Gladiator’s Daily Lives and Epigraphy: A Social Archaeological Approach to the Roman munera through the early Principate.” Nikephoros 21: 223–242. Jacobelli, L. 2003. Gladiators at Pompeii. Rome. Jones, D. 2006. The Bankers of Puteoli: Finance, Trade, and Industry in the Roman World. Stroud. Kyle, Donald. 1998. Spectacles of Death in Ancient Rome. London. Mazois, C.F. 1812. Les Ruines de Pompéi. Paris. Sabbatini Tumolesi, P. 1980. Gladiatorum Paria: Annunci di Spettacoli Gladiatorii a Pompei. Roma. Shadrake, S. 2005. The World of the Gladiator. Stroud. Tuck, S. L. 2008. “Scheduling Spectacle: Factors Contributing to the Dates of Pompeian Munera.” Rivista di Studi Pompeiani 19: 25–34. Tuck, S. L. 2008–2009. “Scheduling Spectacle: Factors contributing to the dates of Pompeian Munera.” Classical Journal 104.2: 123–143. Varone, A. 2002. Erotica pompeiana: Love Inscriptions on the Walls of Pompeii. Rome. Wallace-Hadrill, A. 2015. “The Album of Herculaneum: Problems of Status and Identity.” In A.B. Kuhn, ed., Social Status and Prestige in the Graeco-Roman World, 115–152. Stuttgart. Welch, K.E. 2007. The Roman Amphitheatre: From Its Origins to the Colosseum. Cambridge. Wiedemann, T. 1992. Emperors & Gladiators. London.

Chapter 15

Political Relationships: The Terms Used to Represent the Public Dedicators of Honorific Statues in the Cities of Africa Proconsularis, c. 50 BCE to 299 CE Christopher Dawson During the Principate of Septimius Severus, the decurions of Bulla Regia honored M. Rossius Vitulus (no. 1)—a procurator Augustorum, fellow decurion, and flamen perpetuus of the community—and his sons. They identified themselves on the inscription directly in the nominative case: decuriones universi col(oniae) Bul(lensium) Reg(iorum). Around the same time, they also honored Caracalla (no. 2). They, however, did not name themselves or any other civic entity in the nominative case. Rather, the only reference to the statue’s dedicator is an abbreviated formula in the ablative case stating that the decurions had authorized the expenditure of public money to pay for the statue: d(ecreto) d(ecurionum) p(ecunia) p(ublica). The obvious question is, why did the decurions identify themselves so explicitly when honoring a fellow member and his sons, but only take partial credit for the statue to the young emperor? (1) ILAfr. 455=Bardo 250: M(arco) Rossio M(arci) fil(io) Pupin⟨i⟩a Vitulo e(gregio) v(iro) proc(uratori) Augg[[g(ustorum)]] IIII p(ublicorum) pr[ov(inciae) Afr(icae) pr]oc(uratori) Augg[[g(ustorum)]] tract(us) Kart(haginiensis) … decurioni fl(amini) p(er)[p(etuo) et …]eiae et Rossiis Iusto Procliano et Vitulo Iuliano fili(i)s / eius decuriones universi col(oniae) Bul(lensium) Reg(iorum) patrono et alumnis ob benefici[a quae in] universos municipes suos adsidue confer˹t˺ de suo posuerunt (2) CIL VIII 25519=Bardo 243: [M(arco)] Aurelio Antonino Au[g(usto)] / [principi iuv]entutis Imp(eratoris) Caes(aris) L(uci) Sept[im]i / [Severi Pii Per]tinacis Aug(usti) Arab(ici) Adiab(enici) Parthici / [max(imi) filio divi] M(arci) Antonini Pii Germ(anici) Sarmat(ici) nep[o]/[ti divi Antonin]i Pii pronepoti divi Hadriani ab/[nepoti divi T]raiani Parthici et divi Nervae / [adnep]oti d(ecreto) d(ecurionum) p(ecunia) p(ublica)

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Figure 15.1

261

ILAfr. 455=Bardo 250: Limestone Lintel from the Baths of Bulla Regia, 198-211 CE. Image from: Zeϊneb Benzina Ben Abdallah, Catalogue des Inscriptions latines paϊennes du Musée du Bardo. Collection de l’École Française de Rome 92, 1986. Copyright: the École française de Rome (reproduced with permission).

This question can be augmented by another. Why was Bulla Regia’s formal Roman name, colonia Ael(ia) Hadriana Augusta Bulla Reg(ia) (no. 3), cited as the dedicator of a statue to an unknown third century emperor, but the populus and the ordo (upon approval of a temporary financial overseer appointed by the emperor) as the dedicator of a statue to another flamen perpetuus and former magistrate of the community in the mid-third century (no. 4)? In both cases, the statue can be interpreted to have come from the whole community; the dedicatory terms changed, but the actual people involved in the dedication must have remained largely the same. (3) CIL VIII 25522: [- - - tribuniciae] / potestatis imp(eratori) p(atri) p(atriae) / proco(n)s(uli) colonia Ael(ia) / Hadriana Augusta / Bulla Reg(ia) devota nu/mini maiest(ati)que eius (4) AE 1962, 184b: Q(uinto) Sili[c]io L(uci) [ fi]l(io) Qu[i]r(ina) Victo/rino Corneliano Ho[n]o/ratiano fl(amini) p(erpetuo) IIviral(i) aedil(i) / universus populus sin/ceris suffragiis suis et / ordo splendidissimus / gravissimo iudicio decer/nente Burrenio Felice c(larissimo) v(iro) / cur(atore) rei p(ublicae) n(ostrae) praeter cetera / eius iuxta omnes merita ob / editionem lusionis primo / p(ecunia) p(ublica) p(osuerunt) This chapter investigates the two main ways that the public dedicator of a statue was acknowledged on the inscription: indirect formulae and various terms in the nominative case representing the community, a segment of the population, or a public institution. Previous scholars have argued either that

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the differences in meaning between the various dedicatory terms were insignificant or that they are no longer detectable. The evidence from Bulla Regia, however, suggests that there is a connection between the dedicatory term used in the nominative case (or not used at all) and the origin of the honoree. The goal is to corroborate the Bulla Regia evidence by surveying all inscriptions of honorific statues from Africa Proconsularis dating from c.50 BCE to 299 CE. This is a preliminary study, a proof of concept, meant to test the methodology and the potential of the evidence. The connection between dedicatory term and origin might just pave the way to a better understanding of the relationship between communities and their honorees. 1

Previous Scholarship and Methodology

Scholars have noticed before differences in public dedicators’ usage of dedicatory terms on Latin inscriptions. Their reactions range from pessimism regarding their ability to detect the significances of the various terms to indifference.1 In the case of indifference, the scholars either choose not to investigate their observations2 or declare that the particular term used was insignificant.3 The few investigations that have been conducted are limited, either in focus or in methodology. Some study a single dedicatory term, like res publica or populus, or one type of honoree, most commonly the emperor.4 Others, like Ari Saastamoinen’s philological study of building inscriptions in Roman North Africa, utilize an insufficiently large dataset.5 Building inscriptions, for example, have limited potential because fewer are known than honorific statue inscriptions and because fewer buildings were funded by communities.6 1 Pessimism: Mrozek 1993: 114–5; less strongly: Berrendonner 2005: 538–9; Lyasse 2008: 200. 2 Dupuis 1992: 261, cf. 246, maintains that the terms were “not at all banal nor stereotyped,” while Højte 2005: 169 observes that the terms “were evidently not interchangeable.” But neither scholar pursues the question further. 3 For the Italian regions of Histria and Venetia, Alföldy 1984: 54–5 characterizes the term ordo as a “stand-in” for the whole community, when it is the stated dedicator of statues. Regarding North Africa, Lepelley 1979: 148 is confident that the phrase ordo et populus “does not have great significance.” 4 For res publica: Lyasse 2007; 2008; for populus: Berrendonner 2005; for the emperor: Højte 2005. 5 Saastamoinen 2010: 126–34 indicates functional differences between some of the terms, but his division of them into just two broad categories, “personified towns” and “groups of people,” precludes close analysis. Cf. Marmouri 2008, who limits his study of dedicatory terms to Gigthis and Lepcis Magna. 6 Saastamoinen 2010: 42–51 reports that, in his catalogue of 1002 building inscriptions from Roman North Africa dating from 99 BCE to 449 CE, 58.5% come from Proconsularis. My own count of inscriptions of honorific statues (including those from private dedicators) from

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Stanislaw Mrozek made some progress in identifying differences between the terms by categorizing public dedications in Italy and Africa according to the stated dedicator. In the short article, however, this step only leads to the vague observation that public dedicators referred to themselves as coloni or municipes on inscriptions “in very different conditions” than when they referred to themselves as colonia or municipium.7 Three years after he originally delivered the paper, Mrozek was still despairing that it was “impossible” to uncover the various significances of these terms.8 There is, thus, much work left to be done on the subject. The methodology of this study has been to track three pieces of information on the inscriptions of honorific statues: the method for identifying the public dedicator, the social status of the honoree, and whether the honoree was a citizen of the community honoring him or her. When identifying the public dedicators of a statue, it is the first noun in the nominative case (or the lack thereof) that is the most important. The main difference between the above-discussed statues to the unknown third century emperor (no. 3) and to Vitulus and his sons (no. 1) is that the inscription of the former does not cite humans as agents. Rather, it uses colonia in the nominative to represent the public dedicator, while Vitulus’ places colonia in the genitive as a supplementary detail to identify more exactly the decuriones behind the honor. If this difference reoccurs frequently, then it might be significant. Only two groups in the cities of Proconsularis could claim to represent the community: the decurions, who made up the ordo decurionum and who controlled public resources and regulated public life, and the populus, the rest of the adult male citizens of the population who were distributed into curiae as electors of the annual magistrates.9 Both did dedicate statues in their own name or in the name of their institution, but also sometimes chose to employ broader terms. By tracking which dedicatory terms they tended to use for each type of honoree, it is hoped that patterns emerge that help identify nuances in the usage of the various terms.

c.50 BCE through to 299 CE in Proconsularis comes to 1080. On the funders of buildings: Saastamoinen 2010: 51–6. 7 Mrozek 1998: 15. 8 Mrozek 1993: 114–5. Mrozek’s 1998 publication arose from a conference in 1990. 9 Technically, the decurions were members of both the populus and the curiae of their city. Like the phrase senatus populusque Romanus, however, inscriptions from Africa Proconsularis regularly distinguish between the more prestigious decurions and the populus/curiae, as if they were distinct groups within the community (e.g. Lepcis Magna: senatus p(opulus)q(ue) Lepcitanor(um) … decreverunt (IRT 615); Madauros: o[rd]o et populus … decrev[e]runt, ILAlg. 1.2145; Furnos Minus: epulum decurionibus et curiis omnibus dedit, AE 1961, 53).

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The dedicatory terms have been organized into six categories: (1) juridical status, the official Roman legal title of a community: colonia, municipium, civitas, and pagus (vicus and castellum are not found in the nominative); (2) juridical denominatives, the juridical status of the community expressed as the people who constituted its members: coloni, municipes, pagani, vicani, and cives; (3) res publica, which seems to have been treated differently than the juridical statuses; (4) institutional and constituency terms: ordo and curia/e, and decuriones, curiales, and populus;10 (5) demonyms, the name of the community expressed as the people who constituted its members: e.g. Lepcitani from Lepcis Magna and Gigthenses from Gigthis; finally (6) indirect formulae such as decreto decurionum. For the sake of space, I do not discuss juridical denominatives, since there are insufficient examples for meaningful comparison. Honorees have been divided into three social statuses: (1) civic notable, an individual or the relative of an individual who has the right to sit in a decurionate and, often, has held civic magistracies or priesthoods, or served the community in other ways (e.g. munerarius); (2) a member of the imperial elite, an individual or close relative of an individual who actively pursued a high-level public career at Rome, in Italy, or in the provinces. Examples are governors, regular Roman senators, and procuratores. (3) Emperor, the emperor or a relative of the emperor by either blood or marriage. The categories of civic notable and imperial elite do overlap. For example, Vitulus held several procuratorships in Africa Proconsularis but also the titles of decurion and flamen perpetuus at Bulla Regia (no. 1). The distinction between the two social statuses is taken to be the sphere in which the honoree interacted with the honoring community. Priority is given to the highest office that might have brought the honoree (or relative of the honoree) into professional contact with the community. Therefore, Vitulus is classified as a member of the imperial elite, whereas several honorees in other cities are classified as civic notables because they held their procuratorships in other provinces (e.g. CIL VIII 11340=Sbeitla 48).11 10 11

Incolae is not included because the term is only found three times at Gigthis in prepositional phrases (e.g. ordo populusque cum incolis, CIL VIII 11040). In general, equestrians whose only stated civil offices and priesthoods were in their hometown are categorized as civic notables. For many, the acquisition of equestrian status was the capstone to a successful civic career; for others, it was preparation for their sons to enter the imperial service: Duncan-Jones 1967: 153–8; Devijver 1991: 175, 190. Adlection into the five decuriae at Rome as a juror or equestrian service in the military normally too preceded or flowed from civic careers; for militiae equestres: Demougin 1988: 306–18; Devijver 1991: 175, 190; cf. Saddington 1996: 168–9; for jurors at Rome: Jarrett 1958: 31; Pflaum 1968: 188–9; for equestrians outside the military: Jarrett 1958: 34–6; Duncan-Jones 1967: 153–8. Similarly, individuals honored as the father of a senator were placed among the civic notables, if it could not be shown that they had held more than local office.

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Partly because of this overlap, the category of “local” is needed to track honorees who belong to the community in which they are honored, either through birth or later residency.12 Benefits of this category are that it catches honorees for whom indications of origin survive but not social status and that it helps to distinguish local members of the imperial elite from non-local imperial officials. Moreover, the category filters out civic notables who do not belong to the community honoring them, such as Carthaginians honored by communities in the pertica of the colony.13 Local honorees are identified in a variety of ways. Most directly, many inscriptions state that the honoree is a citizen (civis) or a fellow decurion or curialis (suus decurio, concurialis, etc.). More subtle indications are the holding of office in the community, and epitaphs and other inscriptions attesting to probable relatives who lived nearby (i.e. people with the same nomen and cognomen as the honoree). Only positive identifications of local honorees are tracked and compared. There are too many honorees of uncertain origin to make a specific category of non-local honorees viable. Please note that calculations involving the local category include all inscriptions for the dedicatory term(s) in question, but that calculations involving social status omit the honorees whose social status is unknown (i.e. those marked in yellow on the charts). 2

Res Publica

In Africa Proconsularis, 566 inscriptions are known that commemorate the dedication of an honorific statue by one or more public groups. The large majority of inscriptions date to the second and third centuries, particularly the Severan period—a chronological distribution in line with the “epigraphic habit.”14 Out of these 566 inscriptions, 254 commemorate statues to local honorees (=45%) and 532 contain an indication of the social status of the honoree: 232 to emperors and their relatives (=44%), 103 to members of the imperial elite (=19%), and 197 to civic notables (=37%). 12

13 14

Vitulus’ statue (no. 2) is a good illustration of the category. It cannot be proven that he and his sons were born at Bulla Regia, but Vitulus was a local decurion and flamen perpetuus, his sons are described as alumni of the city, and Vitulus is said to have given frequent gifts to “his own municipes.” At a minimum, these points suggest cooptation as a citizen and residency. Cagnat 1914: 139; Pflaum 1960: 593–4; Corbier 1990: 831–2, 852–3; Benzina Ben Abdallah at Bardo 250. Hugoniot 2006. Mrozek 1973: 114–6; 1998: 11–2; Duncan-Jones 1982: 351; MacMullen 1982: 242–4; Meyer 1990: 81–4.

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The first dedicatory term to be discussed is an outlier, res publica. Only 34 times has it been found in the nominative case representing the public dedicator of an honorific statue. Its usage is statistically neutral, meaning that it was used for a similar percentage of local honorees as all 555 statues dedicated by public groups (15/34=44%) and that its ratio of honoree social statuses also does not vary greatly from all 532 inscriptions that indicate status. 16 of the statues are to emperors (=47%), 8 to members of the imperial elite (=24%), and 10 to civic notables (=29%). Four decades ago, Jacques Gascou provided the key for understanding its usage. He observed that the term is not tied to a specific communal juridical status from Rome, like municipium. Rather, the one criterion required for a community to call itself a res publica was the possession and control of a public treasury.15 Multiple neighboring communities acting in unison could be one res publica, like the res publica IIII coloniarum of the Cirta Confederation (CIL VIII 19493–4), as much as a single colonia, a peregrine civitas, or a small Roman village (pagus) could each be a res publica.16 The term, thus, carries a connotation of financial and political independence, which is indicated in several ways. The following are the two most dissimilar examples. First, two inscriptions from 205/206 state that the uterque ordo of Thugga authorized statues to local notables, but that the res publica municipii dedicated them.17 Prior to the dedication, Thugga had been split between two communities, a pagus of Roman citizens and a civitas of peregrine origin, each with its own ordo. Between the decree and dedication of these statues, Septimius Severus combined the pagus and civitas into a municipium. The decurions of the now merged ordines appear to have been celebrating some of their earliest acts as a single community by employing the term res publica.18 Second, on a statue in memory of a senatorial patrona, the citizens of Thibaris identified themselves with res publica, but abbreviated the term to the greatest possible extent: r.p. (ILAfr. 511). The dedicatory clause reads: di/ cernente ordine r(es) p(ublica) / Thibaritanor(um) / p(ecunia) p(ublica) p(osuit). “-cernente ordine” occupies the same line as r.p.; “Thibaritanor(um)” is alone on the following line. The epigraphic emphasis is on the institution and people. In these cases at Thugga and Thibaris, res publica is acting as a figurehead. Its purpose appears to have been to add gravitas to the endeavor. 15 16 17 18

Gascou 1972: 62; 1979: 384, 386–7, 396–8; Lyasse 2008: 189–91. Gascou 1979: 384–7; Lyasse 2008: 188, 194, 199–201. CIL VIII 26591=ILTun. 1427=Dougga 73; CIL VIII 26622=ILTun. 1437=Dougga 56. See the comments of Aounallah and Maurin at Dougga 56.

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Public dedicators, thus, seem to have made a choice to place res publica in the nominative case on account of the prestige attached to the term. They could have easily used in its place ordo, ordo et populus, the juridical status of the city, or its demonym. What res publica does is underline that this honor was the independent act of the community, meaning that citizens dedicated the statue by their own choice and not, for instance, at the request and expense of the honoree. This perhaps explains why the usage of the term is “statistically neutral.” In these 34 instances, the dedicators—the populus and most often the decurions—were thinking as much about representing their community in a proud manner as about the honoree. 3

Juridical Status Terms, Demonym Terms, and Institutional/ Constituency Terms

When public dedicators were not keen to underline the independence of their community, the social status and origin of the honoree seem to have been important factors in the choice of dedicatory term. Take for instance juridical status terms. As seen in Chart 1, 81% (13/16) of the time colonia is found in the nominative case on inscriptions of honorific statues the honoree is the emperor or one of his relatives. Two more honorees are consular patrons of the honoring community, one of whom is local (ILAfr. 281). Only once is the term used for a civic notable of local origin (CIL VIII 980+p.1282=ILS 6817+p.188). Similarly, 89% (25/28) of the time municipium is the dedicatory term in the nominative the honoree is again the emperor or a relative. The remaining 3 honorees are members of the imperial elite. None of them is local. The last three columns of Chart 15.1 show that public dedicators also used pagus and civitas disproportionately for statues to emperors: 66% (41/62). The three columns further show that they used pagus and civitas (especially in combination) more for statues to civic notables (18/62=29%) than colonia and municipium (1/44=2%). Only 3 of the honorees are members of the imperial elite (3/62=5%), 1 of whom is local (CIL VIII 23832). In total, 17 honorees come from the community honoring them, 13 of whom are civic notables. This greater tendency of public dedicators to represent themselves with pagus and civitas for local honorees is an exception rather than a break with the usage of colonia and municipium, because all but 2 of these 17 inscriptions come from Thugga and date to before Septimius Severus merged the two communities. There, pagus and civitas were convenient terms for avoiding confusion when honoring locals, because they readily distinguish between the two halves of the community.

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demonyms as dedicatory terms,20 their usage predominates in Tripolitania, particularly at Lepcis Magna. There, several different versions are found, most commonly Lepcitani (19 times) and Lepcitani Septimiani (15 times).21 The addition of Septimiani may indicate that the dedicators are a sub-group of the population, perhaps cultores of the imperial family similar to the Venerii of Sicca Veneria, who honored the city’s curator rei publicae for restoring a toppled statue of Venus in their sanctuary (CIL VIII 15881+p.2707=ILS 5505=Bardo 366).22 Additional evidence supporting this theory is lacking, however. Rather, Septimiani appears to be an honorific attached to Lepcitani in order to stress the devotion of the community to the imperial family. Accordingly, it magnifies the association of demonyms with emperors. In contrast to when they used broad dedicatory terms like colonia or Lepcitani, public dedicators tended to identify themselves directly as the ordo, decuriones, populus, curiae, or curiales when honoring people of local origin. As seen with Chart 15.3, out of the 200 known usages of these terms, 70% (140/200) are for statues to civic notables. A large minority are to members of the imperial elite (38/200=19%), 22 of whom the ordo/decuriones honored. It is expected that the decurions would honor people highly placed in the imperial hierarchy, since the ordo decurionum alone possessed the authority to correspond on behalf of the community (e.g. embassies: LCGI 92; LI G-I, cf. 24; patrons: LCGI 130; LI 61). Still, 10 of the 22 imperial elite honorees are locals. These dedications by the ordo also took place within the context of communal politics. Only 11% (22/200) are for statues to the emperor or a relative. The curiae show the greatest zeal for honoring the emperor, having dedicated 12 of 68 statues to the imperial family in comparison to the decurions’ 10 statues out of 89. In theory, it is not surprising that the curiae dedicated statues to emperors, since they were connected to the imperial cult.23 Currently, however, these 12 statues are exceptional. They are all dedicated to Septimius Severus and his relatives by one to three curiae in the theatre of Lepcis Magna. The statues

20 21 22 23

E.g. Thuggenses: CIL VIII 1495+p.938=26590; K/Calamenses: CIL VIII 5325+p.1658=ILAlg. 1.236; CIL VIII 5363+p.1658=ILAlg. 1.284. Lepcitani Septimiani Saloniniani is also found three times in the 260s, Saloniniani being a reference to Gallienus’ wife Cornelia Salonina (IRT 456–7, 459; Marmouri 2010: 67–70). Lepelley 1981: 160. The fullest study of the role the curiae played in the imperial cult remains Kotula 1968: 82–9.

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70 65 60

Emperor + Family

55 50

Imperial Elite

Inscriptions

45 40

Civic Notable

35 30

Unknown Honoree

25 20 15

Locals drawn from the previous four categories

10 5 0 ordo/decuriones

CHART 15.3

curiae

populus

ordo & populus/curiae

Institutional and constituency terms

were part of an orchestrated effort by the proud Lepcitani to strengthen their connection to their powerful fellow-citizens.24 In total, public dedicators used institutional and constituency terms when dedicating statues to local honorees 172 times (out of 222 inscriptions in comparison to 44/185 times for juridical status and demonym terms). The evidence across Proconsularis, thus, supports the trend observed at Bulla Regia. The decurions and populus were concerned to name themselves when honoring fellow citizens, particularly civic notables, but satisfied with broad terms denoting the community when honoring outsiders, particularly emperors. This pattern is not absolute, but the contrast in usage between the juridical status and demonym terms and the institutional and constituency terms is clear enough to be considered meaningful. 4

The Decurions

The above observations suggest that the members of the ordo and the populus understood differences in meaning between the various dedicatory terms and tended to pick the term that best suited the circumstances of the dedication, although not consistently. This point becomes clearer by focusing on the decurions. They often set up statues by themselves, but signaled this in two ways: either through indirect phrases like decreto decurionum or through the use of ordo or decuriones in the nominative case. 24

Torelli 1971; Wilson 2007: 305; Dupuis 2012: 174–7.

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Table 15.1 Comparison of honorific statue inscriptions by the decurions of Sufetula CIL VIII 11346=Sbeitla 57

CIL VIII 11325=Sbeitla 28

M(arco) Magnio Severo fl(amini) p(er)p(etuo) civi incomparabili ob merita splendidissimus ordo Sufetulensis d(ecreto) d(ecurionum) p(ecunia) p(ublica)

Imp(eratori) Caes(ari) M(arco) Antonio Gordiano Invicto Pio Felici Aug(usto) trib(unicia) p(otestate) II co(n)s(uli) p(atri) p(atriae) d(ecreto) d(ecurionum) p(ecunia) p(ublica)

Take for instance Table 15.1. The inscriptions of these two statues set up at Sufetula, a colony of peregrine origin, both contain the abbreviation ddpp for decreto decurionum pecunia publica. In each case, the decurions alone dedicated the statue, for they alone are mentioned on the inscription. The authorization process for the honors must have been the same. Yet, the two inscriptions represent the institution differently. To the local flamen perpetuus, M. Magnius Severus, the decurions make a direct connection by adding ordo in the nominative case; they and they alone are dedicating the statue to the honoree. To Gordian III, however, a direct connection is not made. Decreto decurionum on the last line in abbreviated form provides the sole indication of the dedicators. This style of inscription forces the reader to infer the dedicators from the indirect formula, since they are not explicitly stated. This pattern continues for the rest of Africa Proconsularis. Chart 15.4 shows that decurions used the two styles of dedicatory phrasing in nearly inverse fashion. When an indirect formula like decreto decurionum is the sole indicator of the statue’s dedicators, 51 out of 86 times the honoree is an emperor or a member of his family (=59%) and 21 times the honoree is a member of the imperial elite (=24%), of whom just 2 are local to the community. Meanwhile, 14 of the honorees are civic notables (=16%), of whom 12 can be identified as local. Conversely, when ordo or decuriones appears on the inscription in the nominative case as the sole participant in the award of the honor, 46 of the 75 statues (=61%) are to people of local origin. 8 (out of the 62 inscriptions indicating social status=13%) are to emperors or their relatives, 17 are to members of the imperial elite (=27%), of whom 8 are local, and 37 are to civic notables

Inscriptions

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52 50 48 46 44 42 40 38 36 34 32 30 28 26 24 22 20 18 16 14 12 10 8 6 4 2 0

Emperor + Family

Imperial Elite

Civic Notable

Locals drawn from the previous three categories

Indirect Formula

CHART 15.4

ordo/decuriones

Honorific statues from the decurions alone

(=60%), of whom 31 are local.25 Of course, this trend towards the local would only magnify if we were to count all the times the decurions are said to have cooperated with the populus or individuals and groups, such as relatives and friends of the honoree. What is important here is that, even though the decurions are acting alone in both instances, just the simple switch from indirect formula to nominative case shifts the honoree profile from predominately imperial to predominately local. On inscriptions, the decurions often only established a direct grammatical connection with the names of honorees from their community. This result, when combined with those discussed above, suggests that the ordo and/or populus of the cities of Africa Proconsularis tended to represent their relationship with honorees from outside of the community in a succinct and formal manner. It adds to the impression that they normally honored emperors and imperial officials as outsiders. Demonyms like Lepcitani were a regular feature of foreign correspondence, used to identify the citizens of a particular city efficiently.26 It is how Caesar frequently identified the vari25 26

In addition to filtering out inscriptions that record the ordo working with an individual or group to honor someone, I have only counted complete and nearly complete inscriptions, in order to be sure that the ordo is indeed said to have acted alone. Pace Marmouri 2008: 218, who asserts that decurions employed demonyms to express a “fictive unanimity of all the members of the civic body.” This is true in that the plurality of demonyms covers all members of that community, but it is not the main point of the term. When dedicators wanted to emphasize unanimity, they typically employed adjectives.

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ous cities of Africa and is one way that boundary stones marked two meeting territories.27 Hence, Oeenses is the term used when the citizens of Oea honored members of the imperial elite at Lepcis Magna (IRT 542), Theveste (ILAlg. 1.3063), and at Puteoli, Italy (CIL X 1684). Likewise, the juridical status of a community, like municipium or colonia, came from without as a gift from the emperor.28 It marked the status and role of the city in the Roman province. When public dedicators used their city’s juridical status to mark the dedicator of a statue, they were presenting the city in a way that was most significant to the external recipient. 5

Discussion and Conclusion

Above, it was argued that public dedicators employed res publica in the nominative case on inscriptions when seeking to highlight the independence of their community. When the independence of their community was not a concern, however, the social status and origin of the honoree often influenced their choice of dedicatory term. As Chart 15.5 demonstrates, decurions and members of the populus—the two possible dedicators of honorific statues on behalf of the community—tended to use juridical status terms, demonyms, and indirect formulae for non-local honorees, but to identify themselves explicitly for honorees from within the community. This pattern seems to reflect something quite natural; it is indirect evidence that people in the cities of Africa Proconsularis had a different relationship with their fellow citizens than with the emperor, his relatives, and imperial officials. This makes sense. Unlike local honorees, people from outside of the community were generally not present when their statues were proposed nor for their dedication. They did not magnanimously offer to pay for the statue themselves like local honorees sometimes did, nor did they give sportulae and put on banquets, games, or shows for the dedicators in thanks for the honor.29 Powerful non-local honorees, especially emperors, were simply honored. Local honorees, in contrast, normally grew up in the community. Civic notables in particular had cultivated strong relationships with their fellow citizens 27 28 29

E.g. Caes. BA 97 and boundary stones where the territory of the Musulamii meets with that of the Madaurenses, the Siccenses, and the Bullamenses (respectively CIL VIII 4676=28073a=ILAlg. 1.2828; AE 2004, 1878; AE 1999, 1815). The principal study of the “juridical romanization” of cities in Africa Proconsularis remains Gascou 1972: esp. 208–34. See also Teutsch 1962; Gascou 1982; 2003; Briand-Ponsart 2005. Christol’s 1986 study of remittances remains fundamental.

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190 180 170 Emperor + Family

160 150 140

Imperial Elite

130

Inscriptions

120 110

Civic Notable

100 90

Unknown Honoree

80 70 60

Locals drawn from the previous four categories

50 40 30 20 10 0

Institutional and Constituency Terms

CHART 15.5

Juridical Status, Demonyms, Indirect Formulae

Institutional and constituency terms compared to judicial status terms, demonym terms, and indirect formulae

as they pursued magistracies and priesthoods. Their fathers, husbands, and other relatives often had done much the same. Many, moreover, were themselves a member of the ordo or were closely related to someone who was. They personally knew the decurions voting for their statue. By naming themselves or their institution explicitly as the dedicator of the statue, it seems that the decurions and/or members of the populus were eager for their local honorees to know that the statue came from them specifically and not another group within the community or the community as a whole. This scenario reflects our increasing understanding of Roman North African civic politics as dynamic, involving different stake holders—most notably the decurions and the populus (often through the curiae)—, who, among other things, competed for the attention of local benefactors.30 That said, one must be careful not to take these tentative conclusions too far. In any one case, the term the public dedicators chose to represent themselves on the inscription cannot be considered indicative of their relationship with that honoree. If the decurions of a city wrote ordo for a statue to Hadrian but municipium for the other emperors, that does not mean they felt a close connection with Hadrian. Similarly, a statue to a civic notable said to be from 30

Jacques 1984: 379–425; Dupuis 1992: 259–62; 1993; Briand-Ponsart 2013: 258–62. For lateantique North Africa, see Oliveira 2012.

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the Lepcitani does not mean that the citizens of Lepcis Magna were unenthusiastic about that honoree. These results are only significant at the macro level of analysis. What they show most directly is that public dedicators were often concerned to reflect on inscriptions the political relationships that led to locals being honored. This indicates that, as a rule, people in the cities of Africa Proconsularis perceived their relationships with fellow citizens to be more concrete and, perhaps, more personal than with people from outside their community. If subsequent studies support these findings, then the many theories stressing the familiar, almost fatherly relationship emperors had with provincial communities might need to be reconsidered.31 Abbreviations Bardo

Dougga

ILAfr. ILAlg. 1 ILTun. IRT LCGI LI Sbeitla

31

Zeϊneb Benzina Ben Abdallah (ed.). Catalogue des inscriptions latines paϊennes du Musée du Bardo. Collection de l’École française de Rome 92. Rome, 1986. Mustapha Khanoussi and Louis Maurin (eds.). Dougga, fragments d’histoire. Choix d’inscriptions latines éditées, traduites et commentées (Ier– IVe siècles). Ausonius Publications, Mémoires 3. Bordeaux and Tunis, 2000. René Cagnat, Alfred Merlin, and Louis Chatelain (eds.). Inscriptions latines d’Afrique (Tripolitaine, Tunisie, Maroc). Paris, 1923. Stéphane Gsell (ed.). Inscriptions latines de l’Algérie. Paris, 1922. Alfred Merlin (ed.). Inscriptions latines de la Tunisie. Paris, 1944. J.M. Reynolds and J.B. Ward-Perkins (eds.). The Inscriptions of Roman Tripolitania. Rome, 1952. Michael H. Crawford (ed.). “Lex Coloniae Genetivae,” Roman Statutes, vol. 1. BICS Supplement 64, 393–454 no. 25. London, 1996. Julián González. “The Lex Irnitana: A New Copy of the Flavian Municipal Law,” JRS 76 (1986): 147–243. Noël Duval. “Inventaire des inscriptions latines païennes de Sbeitla,” MEFRA 101.1 (1989): 403–88.

Unfortuantely, I did not read Lennart Gilhaus’ recent book on honorific statues and social relations in Africa Proconsularis until after submitting this article. Although he does not address the topic systematically as I attempt to here, Gilhaus 2015: 58–60, 65–66, 84, 91, 153–5, 159–60 does make some of the same observations. I would like to suggest that our approaches are complementary, since he concentrates more on the honorees, while I concentrate more on the public dedicators.

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Bibliography Alföldy, Géza. 1984. Römische Statuen in Venetia et Histria. Epigraphische Quellen. Heidelberg. Berrendonner, Clara. 2005. “Les interventions du peuple dans les cités d’Étrurie et d’Ombrie à l’époque impériale,” MEFRA 117.2: 517–39. Briand-Ponsart, Claude. 2005. “Le statut des communautés en Afrique Proconsulaire aux Ier et IIe siècles,” Pallas 68: L’Afrique romaine, Ier siècle avant J.-C.—début Ve siècle après J.-C.: actes du colloque de la SOPHAU, Poitiers, 1–3 avril 2005, 93–116. Toulouse. Briand-Ponsart, Claude. 2013. “Les relations entre le populus et l’ordo decurionum en Africa pendant le Haut-Empire (fin du Ier siècle av. J.-C.—debut du IVe siècle ap. J.-C.),” in Enrique Melchor Gil, Antonio D. Pérez Zurita, and Juan Fco. Rodríguez Neila (eds.), Senados municipales y decuriones en el occidente romano, 237–68. Seville. Cagnat, René. 1914. “La carrière du chevalier romain Rossius Vitulus,” Comptes rendus des séances de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, 58.2: 132–9. Christol, Michel. 1986. “Les hommages publics de/à Volubilis: épigraphie et vie municipale,” L’Africa Romana 3: 83–96=2005. in Regards sur l’Afrique romaine, 135–41. Paris. Corbier, Mireille. 1990. “Usages publics du vocabulaire de la parenté: patronus et alumnus de la cité dans l’Afrique romaine,” L’Africa Romana 7: 815–54. Demougin, Ségolène. 1988. L’ordre équestre sous les Julio-claudiens. Collection de l’É cole française de Rome 108. Rome. Devijver, Hubert. 1991. “Equestrian officers from North Africa,” L’Africa Romana 8: 127–201. Duncan-Jones, Richard. 1967. “Equestrian Rank in the Cities of the African Provinces under the Principate: An Epigraphic Survey,” Papers of the British School at Rome 35: 147–86. Duncan-Jones, Richard. 1982. The Economy of the Roman Empire: Quantitative Studies, 2nd ed. Cambridge and New York. Dupuis, Xavier. 1992. “Constructions publiques et vie municipale en Afrique de 244 à 276,” MEFRA 104.1: 233–80. Dupuis, Xavier. 1993. “À propos d’une inscription de Thugga: un témoignage sur la vitalité des cités africaines pendant la « crise » du IIIe siècle,” MEFRA 105.1: 63–73. Dupuis, Xavier. 2012. “De Lambèse à Lepcis Magna: nom des curies et histoire civique,” in Bernadette Cabouret, Agnès Groslambert, and Catherine Wolff (eds.), Visions de l’Occident romain: hommages à Yann Le Bohec, 167–83. Paris. Gascou, Jacques. 1972. La politique municipale de l’Empire romain en Afrique Proconsulaire de Trajan à Septime-Sévère. Collection de l’École française de Rome 8. Rome.

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Gascou, Jacques. 1979. “L’emploi du terme respublica dans l’épigraphie latine d’Afrique,” MEFRA 91.1: 383–98. Gascou, Jacques. 1982. “La politique municipale de Rome en Afrique du Nord,” in Hildegard Temporini (ed.), Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt 2.10.2: 136–320. Gascou, Jacques. 2003. “Les statuts des villes africaines: quelque apports dus à des recherches récentes,” in Jean-Pierre Bost, Jean-Michel Roddaz, and Francis Tassaux (eds.), Itinéraire de Saintes à Dougga: mélanges offerts à Louis Maurin, 231–46. Bordeaux. Gilhaus, Lennart. 2015. Statue und Status: Statuen als Repräsentationsmedien der städtischen Eliten im kaiserzeitlichen Nordafrika. Antiquitas 1, Abhandlungen zur alten Geschichte 66. Bonn. Højte, Jakob Munk. 2005. Roman Imperial Statue Bases from Augustus to Commodus. Acta Jutlandica LXXX:2, Humanities Series 78. Aarhus. Hugoniot, Christophe. 2006. “Decuriones splendidissimae coloniae Karthaginis: les décurions de Carthage au IIIe siècle,” in Marie-Henriette Quet (ed.), La « crise » de l’Empire romain de Marc Aurèle à Constantin: mutations, continuités, ruptures, 385– 415. Paris. Jacques, François. 1984. Le privilège de liberté: politique impériale et autonomie municipale dans les cités de l’Occident romain (161–244). Collection de l’École française de Rome 76. Rome. Jarrett, Michael G. 1958. A Study of the Municipal Aristocracies of the Roman Empire in the West, with Special Reference to North Africa (doctoral dissertation), 2 vols. Durham University. Retrieved from Electronic Theses Online Service (EThOS). (uk. bl.ethos.510003). Kotula, Tadeusz. 1968. Les curies municipales en Afrique romaine. Travaux de la Société des sciences et des lettres de Wroclaw: Series A NR 128. Wroclaw. Lepelley, Claude. 1979. Les cités de l’Afrique romaine au Bas-Empire, vol. 1: la permanence d’une civilisation municipale. Paris. Lepelley, Claude. 1981. Les cités de l’Afrique romaine au Bas-Empire, vol. 2: notices d’histoire municipale. Paris. Lyasse, Emmanuel. 2007. “Les rapports entre les notions de res publica et civitas dans la conception romaine de la cité et de l’Empire,” Latomus 66.3: 580–605. Lyasse, Emmanuel. 2008. “L’utilisation des termes res publica dans le quotidien institutionnel des cités: vocabulaire politique romain et réalités locales,” in Clara Berrendonner, Mireille Cébeillac-Gervasoni, and Laurent Lamoine (eds.), Le quotidien municipal dans l’occident romain, 187–202. Clermont-Ferrand. MacMullen, Ramsay. 1982. “The Epigraphic Habit in the Roman Empire,” The American Journal of Philology 103.3: 233–46.

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Marmouri, Khaled. 2008. “Pratiques institutionnelles et choix du vocabulaire à travers l’épigraphie de Tripolitaine: l’exemple de Gigthis et de Lepcis Magna (Ier–IVe siècles),” in Clara Berrendonner, Mireille Cébeillac-Gervasoni, and Laurent Lamoine (eds.), Le quotidien municipal dans l’occident romain, 203–18. Clermont-Ferrand. Marmouri, Khaled. 2010. “Lepcitani Saloniniani: à propos d’un bienfait impérial pendant la « crise » du IIIe siècle,” Cahiers du Centre Gustave Glotz 21: 63–87. Meyer, Elizabeth A. 1990. “Explaining the Epigraphic Habit in the Roman Empire: The Evidence of Epitaphs,” The Journal of Roman Studies 80: 74–96. Mrozek, Stanislaw. 1973. “À propos de la répartition chronologique des inscriptions latines dans le Haut-Empire,” Epigraphica 35: 113–8. Mrozek, Stanislaw. 1993. “Les termes se rapportant au peuple dans les inscriptions des provinces du Haut-Empire romain,” Epigraphica 55: 113–28. Mrozek, Stanislaw. 1998. “La répartition chronologique des inscriptions latines datées au IIIe siècle ap. J.-C.,” in Edmond Frézouls et Hélène Jouffroy (eds.), Les empereurs illyriens: actes du colloque de Strasbourg (11–13 octobre 1990) organisé par le Centre de recherche sur l’Europe centrale et sud-orientale. Université des sciences humaines de Strasbourg: contributions et travaux de l’Institut d’histoire romaine 8, 11–20. Strasbourg. Oliveira, Julio Cesar Magalhães de. 2012. Potestas populi: participation populaire et action collective dans les villes de l’Afrique romaine tardive (vers 300–430 apr. J.-C.). Bibliothèque de l’antiquité tardive 24. Turnhout. Pflaum, H.-G. 1960. Les carrières procuratoriennes équestres sous le Haut-Empire romain, vol. 2. Paris. Pflaum, H.-G. 1968. “Les juges des cinq décuries originaires d’Afrique romaine,” Antiquités Africaines 2: 153–95. Saastamoinen, Ari. 2010. The Phraseology of Latin Building Inscriptions in Roman North Africa. Commentationes Humanarum Litterarum 127. Helsinki. Saddington, Denis. B. 1996. “The Relationship between Holding Office in a municipium or colonia and the militia equestris in the Early Principate,” Athenaeum 84.1: 157–81. Teutsch, Leo. 1962. Das Städtewesen in Nordafrika in der Zeit von C. Gracchus bis zum Tode des Kaisers Augustus. Berlin. Torelli, Mario. 1971. “Le curiae di Leptis Magna,” Quaderni di archeologia della Libia 6: 105–11. Wilson, Andrew. 2007. “Urban Development in the Severan Empire,” in Simon Swain, Stephen Harrison, and Jaś Elsner (eds.), Severan Culture, 290–326. Cambridge.

Chapter 16

Public Slaves in Rome and in the Cities of the Latin West: New Additions to the Epigraphic Corpus Franco Luciani In memory of Mireille Cébeillac-Gervasoni 1

Introduction: Public Slavery in the Roman World*

Slavery played a central role in the economy and society of Rome: slaves performed all kinds of manual labor and domestic services, and some of them even had highly skilled professions. Besides private slaves, owned by private masters, and imperial slaves, who were property of the emperors, there also existed the so-called ‘public slaves’ (servi publici): these were non-free individuals, not owned by a private person, but by a community. Their domini were the Roman people as a whole (populus Romanus) in the case of Rome, the entire citizen body of a municipality (municipes) or a colony (coloni) or the inhabitants of a province itself (provincia) whether in Italy or in the provinces. Therefore, public slaves in Rome were under the authority of the Roman Senate, whilst in other cities they were under that of the local council. As for the slaves of the provinces, they were subjected to the control of the concilium provinciae. A wide spectrum of evidence throughout the literary and epigraphic records testifies that public slaves were employed for a variety of lowly, but crucial, administrative tasks and public services.1 A number of literary and epigraphic sources from the Republican period and the first three centuries of the Empire show that public slaves in Rome were mostly employed as attendants of priests (pontifices, XVviri sacris * This paper is part of the ‘Servi Publici: Everybody’s Slaves (SPES)’ project, which was based at Newcastle University, and has received funding from the Marie Skłodowska-Curie Individual Fellowship (H2020-MSCA-IF-2015) under grant agreement No 704716. I am very grateful to F. Santangelo and the anonymous reviewer for their comments on a previous version of this paper. Finally, I express my sincere gratitude to C. Blunda for revising my English text. 1 The main studies on public slavery in the Roman world are: Halkin 1897; Rouland 1977; Eder 1980; Weiss 2004. Previous scholarly tradition goes back to the second half of the 19th century: Mommsen 1871: 250–59; Lehmann 1889. More recently a number of contributions devoted to particular aspects of Roman public slavery were published: Cimarosti 2005; Silvestrini 2005; Lenski 2006; Zlinszky 2006; Sudi-Guiral 2007; Bruun 2008; Sudi-Guiral 2008; Luciani 2010; Sudi-Guiral 2010a and 2010b; Zimonyi 2015; Edmondson 2016; Luciani 2017 and forthcoming.

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faciundis, VIIviri epulonum, sodales Titii and sodales Augustales, augures, curiones maximi, fetiales, Fratres Arvales), magistrates (consules, praetores, aediles, quaestores, censores), and other high status appointments (praefecti frumenti dandi, curatores aquarum publicarum).2 In the city of Rome servi publici also worked as staff members or custodians in public buildings, such as archives, temples, basilicas, and libraries.3 From the Augustan age onwards, a familia publica aquaria, consisting of 240 public slaves, was used for the maintenance of the water conduits.4 Other servi publici carried out generic public works (opera publica).5 The epigraphic evidence from Italy and the provinces attests that during the Empire public slaves were employed in the cities for similar tasks as the ones described for Rome. The so-called ‘Lex Coloniae Genetivae’ or ‘Lex Ursonensis’, a Flavian copy of the foundation charter of the Caesarean colonia Iulia Genetiva at Urso in Baetica, shows that the aediles of the colony had four public slaves with girded limus/-m (publici cum cincto limo) in attendance.6 The term limus/m probably designated a particular kind of belt or a small apron with oblique purple stripes.7 The so-called ‘Lex Irnitana’, the Flavian municipal law from Irni in Baetica, established that both the aediles and the duoviri of the municipium had public slaves girded with limus/-m (servi communes municipum eius municipii limo cincti) in attendance,8 whilst the quaestores had public slaves with no other qualification (servi communes municipum eius municipii) at their service.9 Presumably, the so-called ‘lex Lauriacensis’, the municipal law on the administration of Lauriacum in Noricum, from the age of Caracalla,

2 Cf. CIL VI, p. 590 (publici Arvalium quorum nomina in acta relata sunt); CIL VI, 2307–2332 (publici populi Romani sacerdotibus addicti); 2333–2349 (publici muneribus publicis fungentes); Cic. Phil. 8, 8, 24; 13, 26; Plut. Galb. 8, 5 (publici consulum; τῶν ὑπάτων οἰκέται δηµοσίοι); Val. Max. 7, 3, 9 (publici praetoris); Varro in Gell. 13, 13, 4 (publici aedilium); CIL VI, 2086, 64 (publicus ad tabulas quaestorias transcribendas); Frontin. aq. 2, 100 (publici praefecti frumenti dandi and curatorum aquarum publicarum). See also Halkin 1897: 48–68, 71–77; Eder 1980: 41–76. 3 Cf. Liv. 43, 16, 13 (public slaves employed in the Roman tabularium at the Atrium Libertatis in 169 BCE); CIL VI, 2329–2330 (publici aeditui), 2338–2339 (publici ex basilica Opimia), 2347– 2349, 4433, 4445 (publici a bybliotheca porticus Octaviae). See also Halkin 1897: 68–70, 98–102; Eder 1980: 37–41, 95–48. 4 Frontin. aq. 116. 5 CIL VI, 2336–2337 (publici ab opera publica). 6 Crawford 1996: 393–457, no. 25. 7 Isid. orig. 15, 14, 2; 19, 33, 4. Cf. also Luciani forthcoming. 8 González—Crawford 1986, 153; Weiss 2001: 284–86. For the use of the adjective communis as a synonym of publicus, see Lamberti 1993: 275 n. 14. 9 González—Crawford 1986: 153.

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also established that the duoviri had public slaves limo cincti in attendance.10 Besides, public slaves limocincti (a compound of limo and cincti) are attested in other parts of the Empire.11 Therefore, public slaves were commonly employed as attendants of magistrates also in the cities.12 In contrast, their involvement within the religious sphere as attendants of priests and custodians of temples (aeditui) is less often attested.13 Many inscriptions from different parts of the Empire show servi publici acting in the financial management of the cities as treasurers (arcarii), bookkeepers (dispensatores), agents (actores), and in the public administration as archivists (tabularii).14 Some servi publici were probably also involved in financial aspects of the Trajan’s ‘welfare’ program of alimenta.15 Other epigraphic sources suggest that public slaves could be also involved in the management of baths (thermae), granaries (horrea) and markets (macella).16 The public slaves with the specification of mensores attested in Luceria and Sipontum were probably engaged in land-surveying.17 Finally, in some cities of the Empire servi publici were entrusted with the task of producing lead-pipes and bricks.18 2

State of the Question

The important book published by Léon Halkin in 1897 examined the phenomenon of public slavery both in Rome and in the municipalities. As has been

10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

González—Crawford 1986: 241–43, cf. Weiss 2001: 286. CIL X, 3942 = ILS 6319 (Capua, Regio I); CIL X 2052 (Puteoli, Regio I); CIL V, 3401 = ILS 6696 (Verona, Regio X); CIL XIII, 8334 (Colonia Claudia Ara Agrippinensium, province of Germania inferior). Weiss 2004: 29–36. Weiss 2004: 135–48. For a reconsideration of servi and possible liberti publici employed as aeditui and involved in religious activities in the cities of the Empire, see Luciani 2010: 279–85; Sudi-Guiral 2010a. Weiss 2004: 37–84; Silvestrini 2005; Bricchi 2006; Sudi-Guiral 2008. Weiss 2004: 92–98. CIL V, 2886 (Patavium, Regio X: familia thermensis thermarum urbanarum); CIL IX, 1545 (Beneventum, Regio II: Concordius colonorum horrearius); CIL XI, 1231 = ILS 6673 (Placentia, Regio VIII: Onesimus colonorum Placentinorum servus vilicus macelli). CIL IX, 699 = ILS 6476 (Sipontum, Regio II: Augurinus rei publicae servus verna me⟨n⟩sor); CIL IX, 821 = ILS 6480 (Luceria, Regio II: Felix servus publicus mensor). Cf. Weiss 2004: 128–32; Sudi-Guiral 2010b. See in general Weiss 2004: 122–27, 132–34. For a discussion about public slaves as plumbarii, see also Luciani 2010: 276–79.

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quite recently pointed out,19 Halkin’s work remains a valid reference point, especially on account of the comprehensiveness of the treatment it provides. Halkin recorded around a hundred of inscriptions concerning public slaves and freedmen from Rome, and more than two hundred texts mentioning servi and liberti publici from the rest of the Empire.20 Nevertheless, from the end of the 19th century the amount of epigraphic evidence has considerably increased, and a substantial update of Halkin’s catalogue is necessary, especially for the section discussing the inscriptions on public slaves from Rome. Indeed, although Walter Eder’s 1980 substantial monograph focuses only on public slaves in the city of Rome, it does not replace Halkin’s work, notably because it does not provide a comprehensive overview of the evidence.21 In contrast, offering a thorough and remarkable study on public slaves owned by municipalities, the invaluable monograph by Alexander Weiss, published in 2004, effectively updates Halkin’s catalogue: with respect to the sources concerning municipal public slaves, it records more than three hundred and sixty inscriptions, which mention a total of about three hundred public slaves and ninety public freedmen.22 However, some inscriptions have been overlooked, whilst new epigraphic evidence concerning public slaves in the cities has recently become available, sometimes in publications that have not had a wide circulation. Weiss’s catalogue is therefore in need of an update. 3

New Inscriptions on Public Slavery

This contribution aims at offering an update of the epigraphic corpus on public slaves and freedmen, which is currently known, with a view to providing a fullscale reconsideration of the whole phenomenon of public slavery elsewhere in the future. This catalogue has not pretension to comprehensiveness, especially because it does not include possible new attestations from Greek East. Table 16.1 provides a list of the epigraphic records to be added to Halkin and Eder’s catalogues of servi publici of Rome. The classification criterion that is used here is based on the principles set out by Eugen Bormann and Wilhelm Henzen in the first volume of CIL VI: a) public slaves assigned to Fratres

19 20 21 22

Cébeillac-Gervasoni 2009: 23 n. 3. Cf. Halkin 1897: 231–32 (index). Only ten inscriptions were added to Halkin’s catalogue by Eder 1980: 2 n. 11, cf. also 175–77 (index). Weiss 2004: 194–247.

Edition

AE 1985, 252

Rome?

Ninfa, near Latina

Rome, S. Sebastiano Fuori le Mura, necropolis

publici populi Romani simpliciter dicti

Rome

Rome, Ponte Milvio, on the right bank of the Tiber

3.

4.

5.

c.

6.

7.

Marble slab

Marble slab

Marble columbarium plaque

Marble cinerary urn

Marble stele

CIL VI, 3685 = CIL VI, 30903 Panciera 1977: 199 = Panciera 2006: 1848

AE 1978, 41

AE 1989, 135

publici populi Romani sacerdotibus addicti et muneribus publicis fungentes

b.

Marble plaque

Rome, Magliana

2.

AE 1920, 95 = Scheid 1998: 223–24 no. 75 CIL VI, 2106b–c = Scheid 1998: 307–08 no. 103cd

Romea

Marble plaque

publici populi Romani Arvalium quorum nomina in acta relata sunt

Type of monument

1.

a.

No. Findspot/place of first attestation

Table 16.1 New additions to the epigraphic corpus on public slaves in Rome

Italicus Cassianus publ(icus)

[Anic?]etus public[us p(opuli) R(omani)]

- ˹F˺ortunatus Severianus publicus XVvir(um) s(acris) f(aciundis) - Vitalis Cornelianus publicus pedisequ[us] pr(aefecti) aerari(i) militaris Honoratus publicus sod(alium) Aug(ustalium) [- - -]ius Crassianus [pub]licus curionalis

[- - -] Domitianus p[ubl(icus)]

Eutychen (sic)

Name(s) of public Slave(s)

1st–2nd century CE? Mid-2nd century CE

Second half of the 1st century CEc 1st–2nd century CEd

3rd century CEb

221 CE

134 CE

Date

PUBLIC SLAVES IN ROME AND THE CITIES OF THE LATIN WEST

283

AE 1985, 226

Peperino stele Calza 1938: 64 no. 24; Barbieri 1958: 153; Heinzelmann 2000: 249; Epigrafia ostiense 2018: 544 no. 1408 Mancini 1914: 383 no. 46 Mancini 1914: 383 no. 47

Limestone slab

Marble slab Marble slab

11. Ostia Antica (Roma), necropolis of Porta Laurentina, tomb no. 24

12. Rome, via Labicana (nowadays via Casilina), contrada Marranella, colombarium D 13. Rome, via Labicana (nowadays via Casilina), contrada Marranella, colombarium D

Marble slab

Mancini 1914: 381 no. 33 = Caldelli et alii 2004: 332 no. Af207 Mancini 1914: 390 no. 47

Marble slab

Rome, via Labicana (modern via Casilina), contrada Marranella, colombarium D 9. Rome, via Labicana (modern via Casilina), contrada Marranella, colombarium E 10. Rome?

8.

Edition

Type of monument

No. Findspot/place of first attestation

Table 16.1 New additions to the epigraphic corpus on public slaves in Rome (cont.)

Thaliarcus pu[blicus] Munatianusi

Philodamus Cas⟨s⟩ianus serv(u)s publicus Susa publicus Acilianus: even though his funerary inscription was found in Ostia Antica, he was a slave of the Roman people rather than a slave of the inhabitants of Ostia Taliarcus publicus Munatiaṇ[us]h

Menochares publicusf

Menochares publicuse

Name(s) of public Slave(s)

First half of the 1st century CE

First half of the 1st century CE

Second half of the 1st century BCE

1st century BCEg

First half of the 1st century CE

1st century CE

Date

284 Luciani

PUBLIC SLAVES IN ROME AND THE CITIES OF THE LATIN WEST a b c d e f g h i

285

From the antiquarian market: cf. Paribeni 1919: 100. Barbieri 1982–83: 157. Solin 1989: 152. Ferrua 1978: 51. He probably was the same public slave as Table 16.1, no. 9. He probably was the same public slave as Table 16.1, no. 8. Barbieri 1982–83: 143. He probably was the same public slave as the one mentioned in CIL VI, 37180 = 37598 and in Table 16.1, no. 13. He probably was the same public slave as the one mentioned in CIL VI, 37180 = 37598 and in Table 16.1, no. 12.

Arvales; b) public slaves serving priests and magistrates; c) public slaves without qualification.23 Table 16.2 offers a register of inscriptions, which integrate Weiss’ corpus of public slaves and freedmen in the cities of the Latin West.24 Inscriptions are presented in geographical sections, mapping onto the Augustan regiones of Italy and the provinces, and following the topographical arrangement system of CIL. 4

Conclusions

While increasing the epigraphic corpus of public slaves, the evidence collected in Tables 16.1 and 16.2 also provides new data concerning public slavery both in Rome and in the cities of the Latin West. To start with the epigraphic sources from Rome collected in Table 16.1: nos. 1 and 2 mention two public slaves to be added to the list of the publici Fratrum Arvalium provided by Halkin and Eder,25 whilst three new servi publici in attendance to XVviri sacris faciundis, curiones maximi and sodales Augustales are attested by nos. 3–5. Moreover, two more inscriptions on an already known public slave, T(h)aliarcus Munatianus, are now available (cf. nos. 12–13).

23 24 25

Cf. CIL VI, p. 590 (publici Arvalium quorum nomina in acta relata sunt) and CIL VI, 2307– 2332 (publici populi Romani sacerdotibus addicti), 2333–2349 (publici muneribus publicis fungentes), 2350–2374 (publici simpliciter dicti). I also included in my catalogue a source from Macedonia, which is written in Latin. Cf. also Scheid 1990: 468. Fragments of the commentarii Fratrum Arvalium, where public slaves are simply mentioned as publici, are recorded by Halkin 1897: 232. Others are mentioned by Eder 1980: 49–53. To be added are: CIL VI, 2043 = 32360; 2082 = 32376; 2085b = 32379; 32390; 39443; AE 1947, 59; AE 1964, 69a.

Ariccia, località Vallericcia. Aricia (Regio I) Nocera Superiore. Nuceria Alfaterna (Regio I)

Giugliano, località Literno. Liternum (Regio I)

Giugliano, località Literno. Liternum (Regio I)

Venafro. Venafrum (Regio I)

2.

4.

5.

6.

Plaster from theater walls

Marble slab (list of Augustales)

Marble slab (list of Augustales)

Marble stele

Marble base in honour of C(aius) Servilius Quir(ina) Diodorus Marble slab

Pratica di Mare. Lavinium (Regio I)

1.

3.

Type of monument

No. Findspot/place of first attestation. Roman city

Second half of the 2nd century CEd

AE 2011, 281

AE 2001, 854 = SupplIt n.s. 25 (2010): 50–55 no. 17

Ianuarius col(onorum scil. servus) Col. IV, lines 1–3: – `Hermes col(onorum) ark(arius)´ – `Vitalis col(onorum) ark(arius)´ – `Felix col(onorum scil. servus)´ Col. I, lines 16, 19–20: – Felixs col(onorum) ark(arius) – Liternius Felixs (sic): probably a freedman of the inhabitants of the colony of Liternum – `Puteolanus Puteolanor(um) ser(vus) tabularius´ Auctus l(ibertus) col(oniae)?

Della Corte 1922a: 487 no. 2; Della Corte 1922b: 183 no. 5; cf. Varone 1994: 44 AE 2001, 853 = SupplIt n.s. 25 (2010): 47–50 no. 16

1st–2nd century CEc 1st–2nd century CE?

Euhelpistus Aricinor(um scil. servus)

AE 1957, 105

1st–2nd century CEf

End of the 2nd century CEe

227–228 CEb

Asclepiades rei p(ublicae) L(aurentium) L(avinatium) servus arkariusa

AE 1998, 282

Date

Name(s) of public slave(s), public freedman/-men and/or freedwoman/-men

Edition

Table 16.2 New additions to the epigraphic corpus on public slaves and freedmen in the cities of the Latin west

286 Luciani

Pagliara 1969–71: 121–26

Limestone funerary altar Funerary stone

12. Brindisi. Brundisium (Regio II) 13. Brindisi. Brundisium (Regio II) 14. Brindisi. Brundisium (Regio II) 15. Mirabella Eclano. Aeclanum (Regio II) Fragment of limestone slab Funerary inscription; the object is unknown

Limestone stele

Limestone stele

CIL IX, 1230

Nervegna 1892: 353 no. ee; Weiss 2017: 239–40 no. 2i Marangio 1988: 210–11 no. 19 Marangio 1988: 209 no. 18 Marangio 1988: 200 no. 5

CIL VI, 29698

Marble columbarium plaque

Marble slab

Pantoni—Giannetti 1971: 436 no. 15 AE 1996, 298

Marble slab

Cassino. Casinum (Regio I) 8. Ostia Antica (now in a private collection in Amsterdam).h Ostia (Regio I) 9. Unknown provenance (now in Rome, at the Vatican Museums). Ostia (Regio I)? 10. Patù. Veretum (Regio II) 11. Brindisi. Brundisium (Regio II)

7.

Edition

Type of monument

No. Findspot/place of first attestation. Roman city

2nd–3rd century CE 2nd century CE

Date

Theseus col(onorum) Aeclane(nsium scil. servus)

[- - - se]ṛ(vus) pub(licus)?

Amaranthus serv(us) p(ublicus) topiar(ius) [- - - pu]blic[us] victị[marius]?

Venerịus ser(vus) r(ei) p(ublicae) B(eretinorum) [- - -] pub[lica muni]cipum Ḅ[rundisinoru]m ser(va)

2nd century CE

Unknown

Early 1st century CEj Unknown

Unknown

2nd century CE

Felix coloniae ser(vus): in all likelihood, 1st century CE he was a slave of the inhabitants of Ostia

Ellanicus (sic) colonorun (sic) (scil. servus)

[- - -]us col(onorum) ark(arius)g

Name(s) of public slave(s), public freedman/-men and/or freedwoman/-men

Table 16.2 New additions to the epigraphic corpus on public slaves and freedmen in the cities of the Latin west (cont.)

PUBLIC SLAVES IN ROME AND THE CITIES OF THE LATIN WEST

287

Edition

AE 2013, 369 CIL XIV, 3513, cf. EphEp IX, p. 468 Sogliano 1889: 139 no. 991; Di Niro 2007: 201 no. 414 Sogliano 1889: 139 no. 990; Di Niro 2007: 201 no. 415 Saepinum 1982: 120–21 no. 88 CIL IX, 3627

Type of monument

Limestone cupa Tombstone

Lead pipe ( fistula aquaria) Lead pipe ( fistula aquaria) Lead pipe ( fistula aquaria) Limestone slab

No. Findspot/place of first attestation. Roman city

16. Ariano Irpino. Aequum Tuticum, Beneventum (Regio II) 17. Ciciliano. Trebula Suffenas (Regio IV)

18. Sepino. Saepinum (Regio IV)

19. Sepino. Saepinum (Regio IV)

20. Sepino. Saepinum (Regio IV)

21. S. Eusanio Forconese, near Fossa. Aveia (Regio IV)

L(ucius) Saepinius Abascantus: in all likelihood, he is a public freedman, probably the same mentioned Table 16.2, no. 19 as a public slave Felicissim[us] ser(vus) praef(ecturae) Aveiat(ium)m

Abascantus Saepin(atium scil. servus)l

– T(itus) Trebulanus municip(orum) [l(ibertus)] Albanus – [T(itus)] Trebulanus municip(orum) [l(ibertus) R]e[p]entin(us)? Verus Saepin(atium scil. servus)

Noricus col(onorum) Ben(eventanorum) ark(arius)

Name(s) of public slave(s), public freedman/-men and/or freedwoman/-men

Table 16.2 New additions to the epigraphic corpus on public slaves and freedmen in the cities of the Latin west (cont.)

End of the 1st century BC– beginning of the 1st century AD End of the 1st century BC– beginning of the 1st century AD End of the 1st century BC– beginning of the 1st century AD 1st century CEn

1st century CE

2nd–3rd century CEk

Date

288 Luciani

Mancini 1935; CIMRM 650–651; Buonocore— Firpo 1998: 546 no. 69; Terme 2012: 640–41 no. IX, 50 AE 2012, 466

AE 2000, 534 Sensi 2012–13: 291–96

AE 2004, 539

Marble slab

Limestone stele

Limestone stele Limestone stele

Limestone slab dedicated to the Genius ordinis, Fors Fortuna and the public Lares

22. Nesce. Aequiculi (Regio IV)

23. Carsulae. Carsulae (Regio VI)

24. Carsulae. Carsulae (Regio VI) 25. Spello. Hispellum (Regio VI)

26. S. Angelo in Vado. Tifernum Mataurense (Regio VI)

Edition

Type of monument

No. Findspot/place of first attestation. Roman city

Mid-1st century BCEs

2nd century CEr

1st century CEq

2nd–3rd century CEp

Second half of the 2nd century CE

Apronianus rei p(ublicae) ark(arius)o

– Primiti(v)us p(ublicus) saltuarius Car(sulanorum) – Quint(a) R[e]stituta, Car(sulanorum scil. serva) L(ucius) Publicius Ceḷer municipum Cars(ulanorum) lib(ertus) – Hispellatia Valentina: probably a freedwoman of the inhabitants of the colony of Hispellum – Ianuarius r(ei) p(ublicae) c(oloniae) His(pellatium) a(ctor?) [- - -]us vilicus p[ub(licus?)]

Date

Name(s) of public slave(s), public freedman/-men and/or freedwoman/-men

Table 16.2 New additions to the epigraphic corpus on public slaves and freedmen in the cities of the Latin west (cont.)

PUBLIC SLAVES IN ROME AND THE CITIES OF THE LATIN WEST

289

AE 1931, 10 = AE 1933, 154 = AE 1975, 396

InscrIt X, 1, 103 InscrAq 243

Limestone stele

Limestone funerary altar Limestone altar dedicated to Jupiter Limestone funerary altar Lead pipe ( fistula aquaria) Lead pipe ( fistula aquaria) Lead pipe ( fistula aquaria) Limestone lid of cinerary urn

27. Brescello. Concordia Brixellum (Regio VIII)

28. Pula or an island in front of Medulin (Croatia). Pola (Regio X) 29. Aquileia. Aquileia (Regio X) 30. Aquileia. Aquileia (Regio X) 31. Aquileia. Aquileia (Regio X) 32. Aquileia. Aquileia (Regio X) 33. Concordia Sagittaria. Iulia Concordia (Regio X) 34. Palù di Sarmede or Ceneda di Vittorio Veneto. Opitergium (Regio X) AE 2010, 544

AE 2010, 542

AE 2010, 531

InscrAq 553 = InscrAq 1124 = AE 2010, 528 AE 2010, 530

Edition

Type of monument

No. Findspot/place of first attestation. Roman city

[M]ạrtialis c(olonorum) A(quileiensium scil. servus) Silvanus colon[or(um) Aq(uileiensium scil. servus)]x Silvan(us) c(olonorum) Aq(uileiensium scil. servus)z Eglect(us) c(olonorum) Aq(uileiensium scil. servus) Eutŷ cĥ es c(olonorum) C(oncordiensium scil. servus) C(aius)? Poblicius m(unicipum) Op(iterginorum) l(ibertus) Germanus

C(aius) Concordius Brixil(lanorum) l(ibertus) Primus, V̅ Iv̅ ir Aug(ustalis) gr(atuitus) d(ecreto) d(ecurionum): a freedman of the inhabitants of the colony of Concordia Brixellumt Sabinus colonor(um) Polens(ium scil. servus)

Name(s) of public slave(s), public freedman/-men and/or freedwoman/-men

Table 16.2 New additions to the epigraphic corpus on public slaves and freedmen in the cities of the Latin west (cont.)

1st–2nd century CEdd

1st century CEcc

2nd century CEbb

Early 2nd century CEw 3rd–4th century CEy Unknownaa

1st century CEv

Second half of the 1st century CEu

Date

290 Luciani

Schmidt 2003: 28 no. 12; Edmondson 2016 AE 1998, 747 AE 2003, 858

Limestone stele Marble funerary altar

Limestone stele

37. Verona. Verona (Regio X) 38. Mérida. Augusta Emerita (Lusitania) 39. Monterrubio de la Serena. Augusta Emerita (Lusitania) 40. Óbidos Eburobrittium (Lusitania) Limestone stele

AE 2010, 570

Limestone funerary altar

36. Altino. Altinum (Regio X)

Herennius col(onorum) Emer(itensium) ser(vus) Publicia coloniae l(iberta) Graecul[a] – Epaphra, Felix, Thesmus: they were three public slaves (publ(ici)) – Faustus: he was mentioned as a fellow slave (conser(vus)), thus he was a public slave toojj

– Virilis m(unicipum) A(ltinatium) s(ervus) vilic(us) aer(arii) – Publicia Amabilis: in all likelihood, she was a freedwoman of the inhabitants of the municipium of Altinumff Pothinus Veronensiûm (scil. servus)

Second half of the 2nd century CEhh Early 2nd century CE Mid-1st century BCEii 2nd century CE

First half of the 1st century CEgg

August, 28th 323 CE

off(iciales) pub(lici): probably a familia of municipal slavesee

AE 1908, 107 = ILS 9420 = AE 1947, 19 = SupplIt n.s., 5 (1989): 253–54 no. 3 = AE 1990, 396 AE 2001, 1049

Limestone honorific base, reused as funerary altar

35. Feltre. Feltria (Regio X)

Date

Name(s) of public slave(s), public freedman/-men and/or freedwoman/-men

Edition

Type of monument

No. Findspot/place of first attestation. Roman city

Table 16.2 New additions to the epigraphic corpus on public slaves and freedmen in the cities of the Latin west (cont.)

PUBLIC SLAVES IN ROME AND THE CITIES OF THE LATIN WEST

291

45. Narbonne. Narbo Martius (Gallia Narbonensis) 46. Vienne. Vienna (Gallia Narbonensis)

[-] Martius [c]ol(oniae) l(ibertus) Diocha[res]nn

CIL XII, 4983 = AE 2014, 864 CIL XII, 5701,43 = AE 2011, 728

Lead pipe ( fistula aquaria)

Secundus c(urae) aq(uarum) c(oloniae) I(uliae) V(iennensium scil. servus)oo

[E]ucar[p]us r(ei) p(ublicae) Veleian(orum) ser(vus)

AE 1961, 49 = AE 2001, 1195 Palol—Vilella 1987: 32 no. 21

P(ublius) Publicius provinc(iae) Baetic(ae) lib(ertus) Fortunatus, marmorarius signuarius, verna urbicus: probably a former slave of the inhabitants of the colony of Corduba; born in that city (verna urbicus), he became a public slave of the province of Baetica, which later emancipated himkk Omp(h)e r(ei)p(ublicae) s(erva) or De(- - -) r(ei) p(ublicae) s(ervus)?ll Festus rei publicae Cluniensium servus

CIL II2 7, 301

AE 2012, 777

42. Carmona. Carmo (Baetica) 43. Peñalba de Castro. Clunia (Hispania citerior)

44. Iruña de Oca. Veleia (Hispania citerior)

Limestone stele

41. Córdoba. Corduba (Baetica)

Name(s) of public slave(s), public freedman/-men and/or freedwoman/-men

Edition

Bronze tablet sacred to Nemesis Augusta Limestone altar sacred to the Numen of the theater Limestone altar sacred to the Mater Dea Limestone funerary block

Type of monument

No. Findspot/place of first attestation. Roman city

Table 16.2 New additions to the epigraphic corpus on public slaves and freedmen in the cities of the Latin west (cont.)

Imperial age

First half of the 1st century CE

2nd–3rd century CEmm

1st century CE

Imperial age

First half of the 1st century CE

Date

292 Luciani

Tertullus provinc(iae servus)rr Bictor (sic) colon(orum) c(oloniae) Nov(a)e estrumetarius (sic)?ss cu[m]servator (sic) (scil. staterae publicae) lib(ertus) publicus or Servator lib(ertus) publicustt Eracleo publicus tabularius

RIB II, 1, 2409,35 AE 2000, 1611

Bronze die Clay tablet (tabella defixionis amatoria) Marble slab (donation of a public balance) Monument dedicated to Jupiter Best and Greatest AE 2003, 1582a

AE 1959, 302 = IDR III, 2, 14 = AE 1999, 1289

Anencletus provinc(iae servus)qq

CIL VII 28 = RIB 21

Oolite base

2nd century AD?uu

2nd century CE

3rd century CE?

Unknown

Late 1st century

Unknown

coll(iberti?) publ(ici)pp

Stele?

48. Zucchabar. Miliana (Mauretania Caesariensis) 49. London. Londinium (Britannia) 50. Cramond. Horrea Classis (Britannia) 51. El-Jem. Thysdrus (Africa proconsularis) 52. Sarmizegetusa. Ulpia Traiana Sarmizegetusa (Dacia) 53. Dion. Colonia Iulia Augusta Diensis (Macedonia)

Unknown

Pixtirix ancil(la) pub(lica)

Provost et alii 1992: 127 no. 429 (with wrong reference to CIL XIII, 11119) AE 1984, 948

Limestone stele

47. Bourges. Avaricum (Aquitania)

Date

Edition

Name(s) of public slave(s), public freedman/-men and/or freedwoman/-men

Type of monument

No. Findspot/place of first attestation. Roman city

Table 16.2 New additions to the epigraphic corpus on public slaves and freedmen in the cities of the Latin west (cont.)

PUBLIC SLAVES IN ROME AND THE CITIES OF THE LATIN WEST

293

294

Luciani

a This inscription seems to confirm that Olympus Laurentium Lavinatium arcarius, mentioned in CIL VI, 2197, is to be considered as a public slave of the inhabitants of the res publica of Lavinium: Halkin 1897: 233; Nonnis 1995–96: 259 n. 63. Contra Weiss 2004: 40, 136 n. 428, 246. b Nonnis 1995–96: 257–60. c Galieti 1953–55: 11. d Camodeca 2001: 163. e Camodeca 2001: 163. f Molle 2011: 119–21 no. 37, 124–25. g Cf. Solin 2017: 674 no. 23: col(oniae) ark(arius). h Sijpesteijn 1996: 283 no. 1. i I am very grateful to Alexander Weiss for having shared with me the proofs of his article before its publication. j Marangio 1988: 211. k Melilli 2013: 495. l He might be the same individual mentioned in Table 16.2, no. 20, before his manumission. m Buonocore 2004: 418 n. 3; Buonocore 2008: 576 n. 143; Sisani 2010: 184: - - - - - -? / IL[- - -] C/ ornel[ia Fau]/stina ma[ter] / et Felicissim[us], / ser(vus) praef(ecturae) Avei/at(ium), v(ixit) a(nnis) II, m(ensibus) III, d(iebus) XXV, / p(osuerunt). ‘To …, who lived for 2 years, 3 months, 25 days, Cornelia Faustina, mother, and Felicissimus, slave of the praefectura of the Aveiates, set (this) up’. A different reading of the text is proposed by Spadoni 2004: 73–74 no. 78: - - - - - -? / IL[- - - C]/ornelia [Fau]/stina ma[ter] / et Felicissim[us] / ser[vus], praef(ecto) Avei/at(ium), (scil. qui) v(ixit) a(nnis) II (sic), m(ensibus) III, d(iebus) XXV, / p(osuerunt). ‘To … Cornelia Faustina, mother, and Felicissimus, slave, to the praefectus of the Aveiates, (who) lived for 49 or 51 years (II = IL or LI), 3 months, 25 days, set (this) up’. n Cf. Buonocore 2004: 418 n. 3; Spadoni 2004: 73–74 no. 78; Buonocore 2008: 576 n. 143; Sisani 2010: 184. o The same public slave is attested by three other inscriptions from the territory of the res publica Aequiculanorum: CIL IX, 4109, 4110, 4112. Cf. Luciani 2017: 61–62. p Roscini 2012–13: 450. q Bruschetti 2000: 269. r Sensi 2012–13: 291–96. s Catani 2004: 52. t Susini 1971: 121–22. u Bernini 1929–30: 273; Aurigemma 1932: 179. See also Pflug 1989: 179, and Ortalli 2001: 223. v Cf. Luciani 2010: 259–61 no. 1. w Cf. Luciani 2010: 261 no. 2. x He might be the same public slave as the one mentioned in Table 16.2, no. 31. y Cf. Lenski 2006: 347 n. 64; Luciani 2010: 261–64 no. 3. z He might be the same public slave as the one mentioned in Table 16.2, no. 30.

PUBLIC SLAVES IN ROME AND THE CITIES OF THE LATIN WEST aa bb cc dd ee

295

Luciani 2010: 265 no. 4. Luciani 2010: 265–66 no. 5. Luciani 2010: 267–68 no. 6. Luciani 2010: 268–70 no. 7. Cf. Lenski 2006: 347 n. 64; Witschel 2006: 391 n. 58; Carlà 2008: 81–93; Luciani 2010: 270–72 no. 8. Cf. Luciani 2010: 272–74 no. 9. ff Cresci Marrone 2001: 142 n. 20. gg hh Luciani 2010: 274–76 no. 10. See also Buonopane 2003–04. Stylow—Madruga Flores 1998: 36; cf. also Cimarosti 2005: 455 no. 12. ii d’Encarnação 2003: 169–71. jj Contra CIL II2 7, 301 (A.U. Stylow): ‘Servus publicus populi Romani postea a provincia kk Baetica manumissus esse videtur’, ‘It seems to be a public slave of the Roman people then manumitted by the province of Baetica’. However, our sources attest that there were no individuals born as public slaves (vernae publici) in Rome; this is documented only in the other cities: Weiss 2004: 25. Stylow 2001: 99–100; see also Hispania Epigraphica 11 (2005): 144–45 no. 448 (A. Caballos). ll mm Núñez Marcén—Martínez Izquierdo—Ciprés—Gorrochategui 2012: 450. nn Christol 2014: 51–56. Rémy—Brissaud—Mathieu—Prisset 2011. oo For this interpretation, which is far from certain, see Leveau 1983: 220 no. 11. pp Cf. also Birley 1980: 145. qq Cf. also Birley 1980: 145. rr Foucher 2000: 59–60: estrumetarius would be a variant spelling of instrumentarius, which ss would indicate a bureaucratic office within the civic administration (an archivist?). IDR III, 2, 14 = AE 1999, 1289: Cl(audius) Maximus et Ing(enuius) Superst(es) / [s]tateram tt publicam, cu[m/s]ervatore (sic) lib(erto) publico, po[suer(unt)]. / L(ocus) d(atus) d(ecreto) d(ecurionum). ‘Claudius Maximus and Ingenuius Superstes set up a public balance, with a public freedman as a keeper. Place granted by decree of the councillors’. Solin 2014: 388, 395–96 suggested the reading: … cum Servatore, lib(erto) publico ..., ‘… with Servator, public freedman ...’. Pandermalis 2003: 418. uu

296

Luciani

No. 3 is particularly important: it is the first attestation of a servus publicus pedisequus praefecti aerarii militaris, i.e. a public slave in attendance to the prefect of the military treasury. The term pedisequus precisely describes a servant who escorted his master.26 This inscription might be related to a passage from the Roman History of Cassius Dio, concerning the retinue that Augustus assigned to these senatorial prefects: ὁ Αὔγουστος […] τρισὶ τῶν ἐστρατηγηκότων τοῖς λαχοῦσιν ἐπὶ τρία ἔτη διοικεῖν προσέταξε, ῥαβδούχοις τ’ἀνὰ δύο καὶ τῇ ἄλλῃ ὑπηρεσίᾳ τῇ προσηκούσῃ χρωµένοις. Καὶ τοῦτο καὶ ἐπὶ πλείω ἔτη κατὰ διαδοχὴν ἐγένετο· νῦν γὰρ καὶ αἱροῦνται πρὸς τοῦ ἀεὶ αὐτοκράτορος καὶ χωρὶς ῥαβδούχων περιίασιν.27 According to Dio, each praefectus aerarii militaris had two lictors in attendance, together with any other further assistance as was fitting (τῇ ἄλλῃ ὑπηρεσίᾳ τῇ προσηκούσῃ): thanks to the parallel with no. 3 from Rome, it is now possible to argue that public slaves are to be counted in this latter group of assistants. At the time when Dio wrote his Roman History (first half of the 3rd century CE), the prefects of the military treasure went about without lictors (νῦν γὰρ […] καὶ χωρὶς ῥαβδούχων περιίασιν): they probably had only public slaves in attendance. As for the epigraphic sources from the cities of the Latin West collected in Table 16.2, nos. 5 and 53 adduce two new public tabularii from Puteoli (Regio I), and Colonia Iulia Augusta Diensis (province of Macedonia).28 Moreover, six more attestations of public slaves as arcarii, from Lavinium, Liternum, Casinum (Regio I), Beneventum (Regio II), and Aequiculi (Regio IV) (cf. nos. 1, 4–5, 7, 16, 22), are to be added to the list of those mentioning servi publici employed in the cities as treasurers. Most likely, the activity of Virilis, a municipal slave of Altinum (Regio X) mentioned as a vilic(us) aer(arii) (cf. no. 36), and that of the anonymous vilicus from Tifernum Mataurense (cf. no. 26) were also linked to the administration of the civic public treasury. A new public slave probably employed as an actor is now attested in Hispellum (cf. no. 25). Nos. 18–20, 31–33, and 46 attest new public slaves involved in the production of lead pipes in the municipium of Saepinum, and in the colonies of Aquileia, Iulia Concordia (Regio X), and Vienna (Gallia Narbonensis). In particular, the stamps on lead pipes nos.

26 27

28

Cf. Kooreman 1992. Cass. Dio 55, 25, 2–3: ‘Augustus […] commanded that three of the ex-praetors, to be chosen by lot, should administer it for three years, employing two lictors apiece and such further assistance as was fitting. This method was followed with the successive incumbents of the office for many years; but at present they are chosen by the emperor and they go about without lictors’ (translation by E. Cary, Loeb Classical Library). Cf. also Corbier 1974: 347, 664–65. The mention of a public slave as estrumetarius, i.e. instrumentarius (no. 51), who could have been related to a public archive, is not certain.

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19–20 from Saepinum, which presumably mention the same individual both as a public slave (Abascantus Saep(inatium scil. servus)) and as a public freedman (L(ucius) Saepinius Abascantus), confirm the tendency among servi publici plumbarii to continue their job also after their manumission.29 In the municipium of Feltria (Regio X), an inscription dating back to 323 CE (cf. no. 35) might be one of the latest attestations of public slaves in Roman cities, if the officiales publici mentioned on the stone are correctly interpreted as a familia publica.30 No. 23 is a particularly important source: it is the first evidence of a public slave employed as a saltuarius, i.e. a forester or guardian of the boundaries of a public estate.31 This new attestation seems to confirm that some saltuarii, who in a few inscriptions bear the name Poblicius/Publicius, were former public slaves who continued their slave work also after their manumission.32 A previously unknown activity carried out by servi publici in the cities is now attested by the inscription no. 12: Amaranthus, a public slave in Brundisium, was employed as a topiarius, i.e. an ornamental gardener.33 It is possible to assume that he had the task of tending public parks and gardens of the Apulian city.34 Another novelty concerning tasks performed by members of the familia publica is provided by the inscription of P(ublius) Publicius provinc(iae) Baetic(ae) lib(ertus) Fortunatus, who was a marmorarius signuarius (cf. no. 41): the property of Fortunatus, probably a former slave of the inhabitants of the colony of Corduba born in that city (verna urbicus), was transferred to the province of Baetica, which later emancipated him. Since Corduba was the capital of the province,35 he did not move from that city: before being manumitted, Fortunatus acted as a marble mason specialized in sculpturing statues, presumably to be used in public spaces or buildings.

29 30 31 32

33 34 35

Luciani 2017: 48–49. Cf. CIL X, 6332, which mentions a group of officiales Tar[ri]cinensium, to be interpreted as a familia of servi publici of the city of Tarracina: Halkin 1897: 208; Weiss 2004: 201 no. 45. For a full analysis of the sources concerning saltuarii in the Roman world, see Carlsen 1996 and 2013: 141–51. It might be the case of: CIL V, 715 = Pais, SupplIt 1107 = ILS 6682 = InscrIt X, 4, 340; cf. SupplIt n.s. 10, 1990: 235–36 (Aquileia, Regio X: P(ublius) Public(ius) Ursio … Dum saltus publicos curo …, ‘Publius Publicius Ursio … while looking after public estates …’), InscrIt X, 5, 1124 = SupplIt n.s. 25, 2010: 297–98 no. 109bis = AE 2010, 592 (Brixia, Regio X: Ti(berius) Public(ius) Primitivos, saltuar(ius) pagi Veneri), Finke 1928: 200 no. 328 = Lazzaro 1993: 106– 07 no. 61 (Divodurum Mediomatricorum?, province of Gallia Belgica: T(itus) Publici(us) Terti(us), saltuari(us)). On this, see now Luciani 2017: 54–55. On this term, see Malaspina 2013: 250–51. Grelle et alii 2017: 168–69. Haensch 1997: 183.

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Finally, no. 38 is very significant from a historical and juridical point of view, because it appears to provide one of the very rare examples of the social and legal effects of the senatus consultum Claudianum of 52 CE.36 It is a funerary altar set up for Herennius, a slave of the inhabitants of the colony of Augusta Emerita (Lusitania), by Lucceia Herennia, his mother. Since the woman was either a freedwoman (liberta) or a freeborn (ingenua), the difference of status between mother and son is quite remarkable. In the Roman world, children born from a legally recognized marriage (iustae nuptiae or iustum matrimonium) inherited the status of their father. In contrast, children born into a socalled “mixed marriage”, i.e. any union between persons of different legal status (with only one partner holding the ius conubii), inherited the status of their mother, according to the ius gentium.37 In this case, it is possible that Lucceia Herennia entered a non-legal relationship with a servus publicus, presumably a slave of the inhabitants of Augusta Emerita: their son would have been born in the same condition as his mother. Nevertheless, Herennius was born a public slave. Moreover, he clearly bore a name derived from his mother’s, according to a practice in use also among members of the familia publica.38 Such a difference in status between mother and son might be related to the effects of the senatus consultum Claudianum.39 In 52 CE, Claudius persuaded the Senate to issue a senatus consultum whereby a free woman (ingenua or liberta) who established a relationship with a slave without the knowledge and the consent of his master would become a slave of her partner’s owner. Conversely, she could remain free with the consent of the slave’s master, but any child that would be born from her union with the slave would become a slave of the father’s master, against the principle of the ius gentium. The ancient practice was later restored by Hadrian. Therefore, if Lucceia Herennia had indeed entered a relationship with a public slave of the inhabitants of Augusta Emerita, she could have remained a free woman after an agreement with the ordo decurionum of the city. Nevertheless, her son Herennius became a slave of the father’s owner, i.e. a public slave. If this interpretation is correct, Herennius was born in the period between Claudius and Hadrian. 36 37 38 39

Edmondson 2016. Weaver 1986: 147–48. See for example CIL XIV, 2470 (Castrimoenium, Regio I): Sebera (sic), mother of Seberianus (sic) rei pub(licae) ver(na); CIL V, 3832 = IG XIV, 2312 (Verona, Regio X): Veronia Chreste, mother of C[hr]estus Veronensium (scil. servus). Gaius inst. 1, 84. Cf. Weaver 1964. On the senatus consultum Claudianum, see Buongiorno 2010: 311–25. For another supposed epigraphic example of the effects of the senatus consultum Claudianum inside the familia publica of the city of Rome, see Schumacher 2007: 1335–36.

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Further new insights into public slavery might be provided through a future detailed analysis of important, but hitherto unexplored, documentation, such as the epigraphic sources concerning individuals bearing the nomen Poblicius/ Publicius or names derived from toponyms.40 Abbreviations AE CIL CIMRM EphEp

Epigrafia ostiense 2018 IDR IG ILS InscrAq InscrIt Pais, SupplIt

RIB Saepinum 1982 SupplIt n.s. Terme 2012

40

L’Année Épigraphique. Paris 1888–. Corpus inscriptionum Latinarum. Berlin 1862–. M.J. Vermaseren, Corpus inscriptionum et monumentorum religionis Mithriacae. Den Haag 1956. Ephemeris epigraphica, Corporis inscriptionum Latinarum supplementum, edita iussu Instituti Archaeologici Romani. Berlin 1872–1913. Epigrafia ostiense dopo il CIL. 2000 iscrizioni funerarie, Venezia 2018. Inscriptiones Daciae Romanae. Bucharest 1975–. Inscriptiones Graecae. Berlin 1873–. H. Dessau, Inscriptiones latinae selectae. Berlin 1892–1916. G. Brusin, Inscriptiones Aquileiae. Udine 1991–1993. Inscriptiones Italiae. Rome 1931–1986. E. Pais, Corporis inscriptionum Latinarum Supplementa Italica, consilio et auctoritate Academiae Regiae Lynceorum edita, Fasciculus I. Additamenta ad vol. V Galliae Cisalpinae. Rome 1888. R.G. Collingwood, R.P. Wright, The Roman Inscriptions of Britain. Oxford 1965–1995. Saepinum. Museo documentario dell’Altilia, Campobasso 1982. Supplementa Italica. Nuova serie. Rome 1981–. R. Friggeri, M.G. Granino Cecere, G.L. Gregori (eds.), Terme di Diocleziano. La collezione epigrafica. Milano 2012.

Cf. for example Luciani 2010: 276–86, Luciani 2015, and Luciani 2017: 52–55.

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Spadoni, M.C. 2004. I prefetti nell’amministrazione municipale dell’Italia romana. Bari. Stylow, A.U., and Madruga Flores, J.-V. 1998. “Tabula salutaris. A propósito de CIL II2/7, 946.” Faventia 20/1: 29–36. Stylow, A.U. 2011. “Una aproximación a la Carmo romana a través de su epigrafía. Nuevas aportaciones y revisión crítica.” In: Caballos, A. (ed.), Carmona romana, Actas del II Congreso de historia de Carmona, Carmona 29 de septiembre a 2 de octubre de 1999, 95–105. Carmona. Sudi-Guiral, F. 2007. “La familia publica d’Ostie.” Mélanges de l’École française de Rome. Antiquité 119/2: 421–26. Sudi-Guiral, F. 2008. “Les servi publici actores des cités.” In: Berrendonner, C., Cébeillac-Gervasoni, M. and Lamoine, L. (eds.), Le quotidien municipal dans l’Occident romain, 405–17. Clermont-Ferrand. Sudi-Guiral, F. 2010 (a). “Les guardiens des sanctuaires dans les cités d’Italie.” In: Lamoine—Berrendonner—Cébeillac-Gervasoni 2010: 421–32. Sudi-Guiral, F. 2010 (b). “Les servi publici mensores de Sipontum et Luceria (CIL, IX, 699, 821).” Agri centuriati 7: 329–32. Susini, G. 1971. “Colonia Concordia Brixillum.” Rivista Storica dell’Antichità 1: 119–25. Varone, A. 1994. “Il panorama epigrafico in età romana.” In: Pecoraro, A. (ed.), Nuceria Alfaterna e il suo territorio. Dalla fondazione ai Longobardi, II, 41–48. Nocera Inferiore. Weaver, P.A. 1964. “Gaius i. 84 and the S. C. Claudianum.” The Classical Review 14: 137.–39. Weaver, P.A. 1986. “The Status of Children in Mixed Marriage.” In: Rawson, B. (ed.), The Family in Ancient Rome, 145–69. London—Sydney. Weiss, A. 2001. “Limocincti in Irni. Zur Ergänzung des Duumvirnparagraphen 18 der Lex Irnitana.” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 135: 284–86. Weiss, A. 2004. Sklave der Stadt. Untersuchungen zur öffentlichen Sklaverei in den Städten des römischen Reiches. Stuttgart. Weiss, A. 2017. “Epigraphische Kleinigkeiten.” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 204: 238–40. Witschel, C. 2006. “Der ‘epigraphic habit’ in der Spätantike: Das Beispiel der Provinz Venetia et Histria.” In: Krause—Witschel 2006: 359–411. Zlinszky, J. 2006. “Gemeineigentum am Beispiel der servi publici.” In: T. Finkenauer (ed.), Sklaverei und Freilassung im römischen Recht, 317–26. Berlin—Heidelberg.

Chapter 17

Secundae Nuptiae: A New Look at Remarriage through Epigraphy — A Few Examples from Roman Spain Anthony Álvarez Melero Despite the increasing number of studies devoted to Roman social history during the imperial period, little attention has been paid to marriage and weddings in general.1 This is less true of the senatorial order, but the equestrian order, the local elites, and the lower strata are generally left behind in such studies.2 The main reason is to be found among the sources, predominantly inscriptions. The information they provide is fragmentary and less detailed than that of the 1 I would like to thank C. Noreña, N. Papazarkadas, E. Mackil, and the members of the organizing committee for inviting me to deliver my first public address at the University of California, Berkeley on January 5, 2016 at the 2nd North American Congress of Greek and Latin Epigraphy (NACGLE). I would also like to express my warmest thanks to my friends and colleagues M.-Th. Raepsaet-Charlier (Université Libre de Bruxelles) and F. Cidoncha Redondo (Universidad de Sevilla) for their help and valuable comments as well as to M. Delaissé (Université de Namur), Mª A. Toda Iglesias (Universidad de Sevilla), and A. Sánchez Ortega (Universidad de Sevilla) for revising my English text. All remaining errors are my own. Except where otherwise indicated, all dates are CE. This work has been undertaken within the framework of the Research Projects (I+D) “Funciones y vínculos de las elites municipales de la Bética. marco jurídico, estudio documental y recuperación contextual del patrimonio epigráfico. I” (ORDO V) (Reference: HAR2014–55857-P) and “Marginación política, jurídica y religiosa de la mujer durante el alto Imperio romano (siglos I–III)” (Reference: HAR2014–52725-P) of the “Programa Estatal de Fomento de la Investigación Científica y Técnica de Excelencia del Ministerio de Economía y Competitividad”, cofunded by the European Regional Development Fund (ERDF). It has also benefited from the generous financial support from the VPPI-US. 2 Without claiming to be exhaustive, on the equestrian order, the local elites, and the lower strata from the western as well as the eastern provinces in Republican times, see Cébeillac-Gervasoni 1989; 1992; and 1998: 213–20 and 233–52; Álvarez Melero 2016. During the Empire: Stein 1927: 107–362; Alföldy 1981: 194–8 (see also Alföldy 1986: 187–91); Alföldy 1984 (see also Alföldy 1986: 239–84); Demougin 1988: 553–676; Burnand 1990; Curchin 1990; Fabre 1990; Fabre, Mayer, and Rodà 1990; Raepsaet-Charlier 1992 (see now Raepsaet-Charlier 2016: 109–29); Raepsaet-Charlier 1994 (see now Raepsaet-Charlier 2016: 131–57); Cherry 1997; Raepsaet-Charlier 1999 (see now Raepsaet-Charlier 2016: 195–215); Schäfer 2000: 70–9; McGinn 2002; McGinn 2004; des Boscs-Plateaux 2005: 145–69; Burnand 2008; Kirbihler 2009; Pérez Zurita 2011: 426–68; Phang 2011; Álvarez Melero 2012; Álvarez Melero 2013; Armani 2013; Curchin 2015; de Carlo 2015: 279–303; Álvarez Melero 2018a and 2018b (in press).

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literary texts. What is more, only lawful unions and concubinage3 are normally taken into consideration, since rarely is remarriage itself approached as a specific subject, due to the complex problems it raises.4 Nevertheless, it is with remarriage that I choose to begin my own investigation of Roman marital habits. This phenomenon was extensively studied by M. Humbert in his highly influential book which was published in 1972.5 While the French scholar rightly highlights the importance of remarriage in Roman society, his study is based mainly on juridical and literary sources, and this prevents him from considering all social strata. Additionally, his results are incomplete since he does not take into account the representativeness of his samples. Indeed, he does not use the literary and the epigraphic texts in a systematic way, and he concentrates chiefly on the late republican and early imperial periods. The same criticism can be raised against the works of P.E. Corbett (1930: 249–51), J.F. Gardner (1986: 51–6), S. Treggiari (1991: 501–2), K.R. Bradley (1991: 156–76), J.-U. Krause (1994, relying on papyrological texts), and J. Evans Grubbs (2002). Whether they approach the subject as a specific topic or within the scope of a general study on marriage, they all rely on juridical and literary sources, and thus repeat the same heuristic pattern as Humbert. This casts doubt on the significance of their conclusions. As a result of the distinctive features of our sources, none of the works I have mentioned so far, which are rightly considered essential for this issue, allows us to grasp this very complex phenomenon as a whole. A thorough examination of the epigraphic data will contribute to broadening our perspectives and shedding new light on the situation. This paper should therefore be considered as an introduction to the study of the matrimonial practices not only of the non-senatorial elite members, but also of the lower strata, which sets out the problems we have to face with this topic. Before presenting the epigraphic texts, it will be convenient to trace the history of marriage in ancient Rome. Indeed, matrimonium, as it was called in Latin and which implies a mater, was mainly a private decision made by the parents of the spouses-to-be, if they were not sui iuris.6 The wedding did not take place without the spouses’ consent and lasted as long as they kept the affectio maritalis, namely the wish to co-exist as husband and wife.7 The goal 3 4 5 6

On that specific topic, Friedl 1996 and Tramunto 2009. See Hübner 2009, for the Eastern provinces of the Roman Empire only. Humbert 1972. On marriage in general Corbett 1930; Gardner 1986: 31–65; Treggiari 1991; Fayer 1994; Evans Grubbs 2002: 81–269; Frier and McGinn 2003: 25–187. On religious rituals: Hersch 2010. For a historiographic review: Dixon 2011: 245–61 and Armani 2015. 7 Ulp., Dig. 24, 1, 32, 13. See also Ulp., Dig. 35, 1, 15 et Ulp., Dig. 50, 17, 30.

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of every marriage was to produce legitimate children, liberorum creandorum causa.8 Nevertheless, the commitment was not unbreakable: divorce and widowhood did occur and led to remarriage, after 6 and 12 months respectively, periods of time which were extended to 18 and 24 months in accordance with Augustan legislation.9 These habits were perhaps more frequent than we normally think and were supported at the highest level.10 To corroborate this point, we need to highlight the consequences of the Augustan legislation. From its promulgation, the authorities interfered in the bed-chamber, which was something new, without annihilating the decisionmaking power of the pater familias.11 The declared aim of these laws was to look after the probity of the members of the highest ordines and to increase their birth rate by compelling them to marry, the principium urbis et quasi seminarium rei publicae,12 through rewards or penalties, if necessary.13 This obligation prevailed for all social groups, including Roman knights, who were not subject to the same restrictions as the senators.14 However, imagining that marriage only aimed at bringing legitimate heirs into the world would be simplistic. Romans were still free to create their own kinship groups. They could choose whomever they wanted, as long as the partner was morally and legally suitable.15 Furthermore, from the time of the engagement links were forged between the families even before the marriage was consummated.16 This is why implicit economic interests (dowries and inheritance) as well as familial interests (expanding bonds with other families) contributed to the selection of the best groom or bride.17 As for remarriage, Humbert demonstrated that this was not a marginal phenomenon during the Republic or the Empire, until Roman emperors adopted

8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Cf. Livy 59, 8 who alludes to Q. Caecilius Metellus Macedonicus’ speech, delivered in 131 BC. See also Gell. 1, 6 and Corbier 2004: 75. Ulp., Reg. 14; Paul., Sent. 1, 21, 13; Cod. Iust. 5, 9, 2; Frag. Vat. 320–321. Corbier 1990: 5 and 19. Corbier 1990: 4 and 12. Cic., Off. 1, 17, 54. Cf. Rawson 1986: 7 and 31 who claims that the lower strata and the poor families did not feel compelled by the effects of the Augustan laws, the rules of which were more rigorous for the elites. Cf. f. i. Ulp., Reg. 13 and the list drawn up by Friedl 1996: 152–69. See also McGinn 2002: 50–7. Corbier 1990: 4 and 17. Corbier 1990: 23. Cf. Corbier 1990: 17–8; 23 and 30; Corbier 2001: 356 and 365–7; Corbier 2004: 76–7. On inheritance: Corbier 1985. On dowries: Saller 1984 and 1994: 204–24. See also Broekaert 2013.

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Christianity.18 Whatever the reasons for remarriage might be, it carried the same legal effects and consequences as a first wedding. My larger goal will be to try to complete the work of these scholars, but here I have chosen to focus mainly on epigraphic texts from Roman Spain that date from the 1st to the 3rd century CE, which are more specifically linked to the lower strata of Roman provincial society. It goes without saying that our sources already provide us with examples of remarriage amongst Roman knights and their close relatives.19 Table 17.1 (pp. 315–321) presents the sample on which this study is based and helps to illustrate its argument. Each reference consists of the initial letter of the three Spanish provinces (Baetica, Lusitania, and Tarraconensis) and a serial number, assigned according to the locations of the findings (the chronology does not provide convincing results). I begin with a reference to the mother of Voconius Romanus, Pliny the Younger’s best friend. We know, thanks to a letter from Pliny to the Emperor Trajan, that she came from a renowned family of Saguntum, “e primis,” and that she married twice: first to C. Voconius Placidus, and then to C. Licinius Marinus, who adopted Romanus, born of her first marriage (T9).20 We do not know the name of this matrona, as Pliny does not mention it, but this is not the case for Placidus and Romanus, who appear, with latter’s wife, Popillia L. f. Rectina, in the local epigraphy of Saguntum.21 There are two more epigraphic examples from Spain of women related to Roman knights. First, a Cornelia Aciliana, from Tarraco, who was married to the equestrian officer Plautius Plautianus, but whose son, Florius Vegetus, had previously been flamen of the province of Hispania Citerior (T12). The gentilicium of Vegetus, Florius, which is scarcely attested in Roman Spain, proves that Aciliana had had a former husband before remarrying Plautianus. We leave Tarraco and move now to Augusta Emerita, where a funerary altar was discovered. The inscribed text makes reference to a Lebisinia Auge (whose gentilicium is still a hapax), honored by her husband, the procurator P. Cussius Phoebianus, and her son M. Iulius Verinus (L3). The name of each 18 19 20

21

Humbert 1972 with the comments made by Bradley 1991: 156–76 for the Late Republican times. For the equestrian order, see my doctoral dissertation: Álvarez Melero 2018a. Placidus appears on CIL II²/14–1, 365 = IRSaguntum 69: C(aio) Voconio C(ai) f(ilio) / Gal(eria) Placido, aed(ili), / IIuiro II, flamini II, / quaestori, /5 saliorum magistro and on CIL II²/14–1, 366 = IRSaguntum 70: [- - -] / Voconius Romanus, / patri optimo. On Placidus, see now PIR² V 918. On his anonymous wife, Álvarez Melero 2018b (in press), nr. 746. CIL II²/14–1, 367 = IRSaguntum 71: Popilliae L(uci) f(iliae) / Rectinae, an(norum) XVIII, / C(aius) Licinius C(ai) f(ilius) / Gal(eria) Marinus /5 Voconius Romanus, / uxori. On Rectina and Romanus, see PIR² P 846 and PIR² L 210 respectively. On Rectina, see also Álvarez Melero 2018b (in press), nr. 544.

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of them is different and Verinus can in no case be Phoebianus’s son, unless we acknowledge an adoption or an abbreviated nomenclature. So we must conclude that Lebisinia was first married to Verinus’s father, and that her child accompanied her during her stay in Lusitania. On the basis of these examples related to the equestrian order, we see how onomastics is generally the only way, when any other mention of a familial tie is lacking, to confirm that we are dealing with a case of remarriage. Can we assume that the same happened for the lower social categories, too? Perhaps. If brothers or sisters bear different gentilicia from each other, for example, we can infer that one of their parents had remarried. This could be the case with the decurion, pontiff, and aedile of Tarraco, M. Granius Probus, who was commemorated by his mother, Caecilia Galla, and his sister, Herennia Aphrodite (T11). Of course soror not only means “sister,” but also “half-sister.”22 This Aphrodite was evidently the daughter of a Herennius, Galla’s former (or second) husband. This man could have been of freedman stock, given Herennia’s Greek surname. So this appears to be a case of remarriage (but the investigation of names can also lead to errors, as I will show below). What are the other clues to identify remarriage? Besides onomastics, we must turn to kinship terms such as nouerca, which refers to a “stepmother,” as attested in Olisipo, in Lusitania (L11). There, Iulia Severa Audalea is described as the stepmother of the dedicator Tuscus (or of his deceased son). Tuscus buried them and highlighted their moral values with the laudatory adjectives optimus and pia. Another word is priuignus/a, that is, a “stepson” or “stepdaughter,” as shown in the following text from Barcino, in Hispania Citerior, in which we read that M. Aemilius Optatus, son of Lucius, enrolled in the Galeria tribe, was bestowed the honors of aedile and IIvir free of charge and was the stepson of M. Herennius C. f. Gal. Severus, who was also his tutor (T1). Otherwise, Severus is known as aedile, IIvir, and flamen of Augustus, in an inscription erected by his sister Herennia C. f. Optata.23 I will soon return to this Severus. It is also possible to identify remarriages from words like filiaster/filiastra, “stepson/stepdaughter,” which never appear in Spanish epigraphy, or uitricus, “stepfather,” whose only testimony in Spain comes up in chapter 95 of the lex Coloniae Genetiuae Iuliae of Urso, in which it is written that nobody must compel relatives of charged persons to give evidence against their will during a

22 23

See OLD s. v. soror. CIL II, 4525 = IRC IV, 61: M(arco) Her[ennio] / C(ai) f(ilio) G[al(eria)] / Seuero, / aedili, IIuir(o), /5 flam(ini) Aug(usti), / Herennia C(ai) [ f(ilia)] / Optata, / fratri optim[o - - -].

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legal action. Among these relatives, there are stepsons as well as stepfathers, and kin by blood or marriage.24 Along with these words, there exist other formulations, such as uxor prior (e.g., Sempronia L. f. Campana in Dianium, Hispania Citerior). Her husband, L. Domitius Eques, who died at the age of 35, declares that Campana, who passed away at the age of 18, was his first wife (T4). She must have predeceased him instead of divorcing him, which would explain why he chose to commemorate her in such a way. Unfortunately, we do not know the name of his second wife. Finally, how else can we explain the phenomenon of successive wives, as in the case of M. Calpurnius Vernio in Itucci (Baetica), married first to Calpurnia M. l. Thyce and then to Blattia Modesta, or of Proculinus in Valhelhas (Lusitania), whose example is illustrative in this regard? Actually Proculinus states that Valeria as well as Amabilis were his wives (uxoribus) (L14). Moreover, a closer look at the text shows that not only had Amabilis been nutrix, i.e., the wet nurse who took care of the children born from her husband’s previous marriage, but also Proculinus’s second spouse, after Valeria’s death.25 In addition, note that Proculinus, son of Proculus, Valeria, and Amabilis all bear Latin names, but all remain peregrini.26 This proves that remarriage also existed for non-Roman citizens. Another example from Vizmanos, next to Numantia (Hispania Citerior), can be added to this list, with the two husbands of this anonymous woman bearing clearly indigenous anthroponyms, Arancises and Agirsenus, while their sons are Roman citizens: Cornelius Viator, son of Arancises; Cornelius Valens; and Aemilius Severus, son of Agirsenus (T15). Also consider the freedwoman Terentia L. l. Felicula from Anticaria (Baetica) and her soror et heres Fabia L. f. Fabulla (B1). According to the inscriptions, Felicula married L. Calpurnius Senecio and brought (L. Calpurnius) Hispanianus into the world. Both bases were erected by Fabulla, who was born ingenua unlike her sister Felicula. Given that they bear different names, we must conclude that they had the same mother, a Terentia, who remarried. She must have been a slave, freed along with her daughter Felicula, by her then 24

25 26

CIL II²/5, 1022: XCV // Qui reciperatores dati erunt si eo die quo iussi erunt / non iudicabunt: (…) neue quem inuitum testimo/nium dicere cogito ⟨q⟩ui ei quae r(es) tum age/tur gener, socer, uitricus, priuignus, patron(us), / lib(ertus), consobrinus, propiusue cum ea cogna/ tione atfinitate{m}ue contingat (…). Cf. Crespo Ortiz de Zárate 2005: 94–96. Crespo Ortiz de Zárate 2005: 95–96 suggests that Proculinus was a Valerius and that he married firstly his freedwoman Valeria. After her death, he took Amabilis, a slave he had freed, as his wife.

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husband, a L. Terentius. Once emancipated, she wed this L. Fabius and gave birth to Fabulla. Occasionally, the texts also foresee complex circumstances so that we can understand in concrete terms the legal implications of remarriage. The best example is shown by M. Aemilius L. f. Gal. Optatus, stepson to M. Herennius C. f. Gal. Severus, his tutor, whose sister’s name Herennia C. f. Optata, and especially her cognomen, Optata, possibly alludes to a previous close kinship bond between the Aemilii and the Herennii of Barcino (T1).27 The fact that Severus had been the tutor in addition to being Optatus’ stepfather may also reinforce this idea. Sometimes, we cannot state if we are dealing with familial, social, or geographic endogamy or exogamy. A good example is provided by Iulia Glyconis, natione Nicomedica, in Bithynia, who was buried in Augusta Emerita by her two sons, L. Munatius Asclepiades and M. Lucanius Avitus (L2). Unfortunately, we do not know the reasons of her travel to Lusitania nor the cause of her remarriage, as both the gentilicia Lucanius and Munatius are attested in Lusitania28 (as well as in Nicomedia29). Nevertheless, the cognomen Avitus is well documented in this Spanish province,30 while the surname Asclepiades, with two more instances in Lusitania,31 may denote a Greek background. These facts suggest that the Lucanii might have come from Lusitania and that Iulia Glyconis remarried in Augusta Emerita, after coming with her first husband from Bithynia, where Asclepiades was born. Finally, some problems remain unsolved, such as those related to onomastics and the transmission of the maternal name, not to speak of the abbreviated nomenclature, mainly observed among the upper ordines,32 which at all times distort the analysis.33 Indeed, without any unambiguous mention of familial ties on the stones, several interpretations may contradict one another. A good example comes from Ebora (Lusitania), a municipium iuris Latini. It 27

28 29 30 31 32 33

These Herennii could also have had a close tie of amicitia with L. Licinius Sura and his freedman L. Licinius Secundus if C. Herennius Optatus, friend of Secundus can be identified with the father of M. Herennius Severus and Herennia Optata: CIL II, 4545 = IRC IV, 97. Navarro Caballero and Ramírez Sádaba 2003: 217: Lucanius, 3 times, and 243: Munatius 7 times, but 4 in Augusta Emerita. IK Iznik 516A: Πόπλι/ος Λου/κάνιο/ς Οὐλπ/5ιανὸς / Ἀγαθο/κλῆς / ζήσας / ἔτη ξε´ (…) and IK Iznik 117: Σευῆρος Κλήµεντος ζῶν ἑαυτῷ καὶ τῇ ἑαυτοῦ γυναικὶ Μουνατίᾳ Φιλ[ου]µένῃ / κατεσκεύασεν τὴν σκάφην [σὺν τῷ περι]κιµένῳ περι[βόλῳ] (…). Navarro Caballero and Ramírez Sádaba 2003: 107–10. Navarro Caballero and Ramírez Sádaba 2003: 102. Raepsaet-Charlier 1981 (see now Raepsaet-Charlier 2016: 45–56). Armani 2003.

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refers to an anonymous mother who mourns her children, Q. Tullius Habiti f. Gal. Modestus, Tullia Habiti f. Tusca, and Q. Alfius Modestus (L9*). At first glance, even though we do not know the name of the dedicator, the gentilicia Tullius and Alfius seem to indicate that the siblings were stepbrothers. However, according to S. Armani,34 the praenomen of the boys, Quintus, their common cognomen, Modestus, as well as the anthroponym Habitus support another hypothesis: i.e., they were born from the same parents. Their father may have been named Q. Tullius Habitus and their mother Alfia Modesta, who handed down her gentilicium to one of her sons. Indeed, the Romans could freely decide to choose the maternal grandfather’s name instead of the paternal one, as did Poppaea Sabina, Nero’s wife.35 Nonetheless, since Armani’s statements seem to reveal a quite common practice in Lusitania, we should perhaps classify them as dubious, which would reduce the number of instances of remarriage. Caution is thus called for, as in the case of the lost inscription of Baesucci (Baetica), in which we read that T. Meduttius Philetus, maybe a freedman, died aged 51. He was buried by M. Meduttius Fuscus, Valeria Proba, and Granius Exochus, who called him pater (B3). Fuscus, Proba (who honors his memory elsewhere)36 and Exochus were siblings. Did Valeria Proba gain her name from her mother? Who is Exochus? Was he born from Philetus’s other marriage (or contubernium) to an unknown Grania? Was he adopted? It is difficult to say. To conclude, we can confirm that remarriage appears 34 times in the three Roman Spanish provinces. Lusitania and Tarraconensis have nearly the same number of examples, with fewer in Baetica. Successive weddings affect people of all legal statuses and social classes. Their patriae may well be cities promoted to the rank of colonia or municipium iuris Latini or ciuium Romanorum, but this does not prevent the presence of peregrini or of freedpersons, as I have just shown with Proculinus and his spouses, and Felicula and Fabulla’s mother, respectively. If we take a closer look at this matrimonial practice, it is at first not always possible to ascertain whether the new wedding took place after the death of the spouse, which is very likely, as for Voconius Romanus’s mother, or after a divorce. Furthermore, the Spanish provinces provide more examples of remarrying women than men. In spite of these assessments, my sample does not 34 35 36

Armani 2000 (= AE 2000, 676 = HEp 10, 725). Armani 2000, who mistakenly names the mother Alfia Commoda (but see HEp 10, 725). CILA Ja, 1, 59: D(is) M(anibus) s(acrum) / M(arcus) Meduttius / Fuscus, ann(orum) XXXXV, / pius in suis, h(ic) s(itus) e(st), s(it) t(ibi) t(erra) l(euis). /5 V(aleria) Probata posuit / non merenti mor/tis memoriae. / Val(e), aue, s(alue).

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allow us to judge the reasons37 or the frequency of remarriage,38 on the basis of the highly laudatory statements for the uniuirae.39 Some questions about remarriage therefore must remain open. Only a comprehensive study, focused on the African and Gallic provinces, will contribute to clarifying matters (e.g. onomastics) and removing most of the doubts on these issues.

37 38 39

Cf. Krause 1994: 108–113. Cf. Kajanto 1969: 102–103 who points out that divorce would not have been common among the lower strata, contrary to what contemporary authors imply. Raepsaet-Charlier 1981–1984: 167 (see now Raepsaet-Charlier 2016: 98).

Arva

Baesucci

Italica

Itucci

B2

B3

B4*

B5

I

III

III

?

Anticaria II

B1

?

1) (C. Aemilius) 2) (Aelius) M. Calpurnius [M. l.?] 1) Calpurnia M. l. Vernio Thyce 2) Blattia Modesta

(- - -)

Aemilia Lucilla

(Terentia L. l. - - -)

Wife’s name

T. Meduttius Philetus

1) L. Terentius (- - -) 2) L. Fabius (- - -) 1) Q. Traius Areianus 2) (Sergius)

Dating Husband’s name

Place

Reference

Table 17.1 List of remarriages from Roman Spain Hispania Ulterior Baetica

1) Calpurnia M. l. Nebris 2) M. Calpurnius M. l. Chryseros (?) 3) Calpurnia M. l. Phyramis 4) Calpurnia M. l. Vitalis

1) Terentia L. l. Felicula 2) Fabia L. f. Fabulla 1) Q. Traius Q. Trai Areiani fil. Quir. Areianus 2) Sergius Rufinus 1) M. Meduttius Fuscus 2) Valeria Probata 3) Granius Exochus 1) C. Aemilia 2) Aelia

Children’s name

Corpus de inscripciones latinas de Andalucía Ja 1, 58d AE 2008, 661 = Hispania Epigraphica 17, 120e CIL II²/5, 424f

CIL II²/5, 754a and CIL II²/5, 755b CIL II, 1065c

Source

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II

Capera

L5

L7

II

II

II

L6

Augusta Emerita Augusta Emerita Augusta Emerita

Wife’s name

Iulius Fuscus Tuberianus

1) (- - -) 2) Caelia Aunia

1) (Memmius?) Memmia Suavola 2) L. Attius Quintilius P. Caecilius Rufinus 1) (- - -) 2) Pompeia Chrysis (Antonius) ?

1) (Aurelius - - -) Iulia Alla 2) Claudius Gracilis 1) (L. Munatius - - -) Iulia Glyconis 2) (M. Lucanius - - -) (Iulius) Lebisinia Auge P. Cussius Phoebianus

Dating Husband’s name

Augusta II Emerita Augusta II–III Emerita Caesarobriga II

L4

L3

L2

L1

Reference Place

Hispania Ulterior Lusitania

Table 17.1 List of remarriages from Roman Spain (cont.)

Alla Antonius Iulius Avitus

P. Caecilius Rufinianus

Memmius Suavis

1) L. Munatius Asclepiades 2) M. Lucanius Avitus M. Iulius Verinus

Aurelia Anna

Children’s name

CIL II, 820m

CIL II, 900l

AE 2010, 674 = HEp 19, 51g AE 1993, 907 = HEp 5, 92h Hübner 1894: 469–470, n. 7 (= Ephemeris Epigraphica VIII, p. 365, n. 25) = Epigrafía romana de Augusta Emerita 109i AE 1993, 910 = HEp 5, 95j HEp 7, 118k

Source

316 Álvarez Melero

Evora

Evora

Lorvão

Olisipo

Salacia

Salmantica

Valhelhas (Lancia Oppidana)

L8*

L9*

L10*

L11

L12

L13

L14

Reference Place (- - -)

1) (M. Antonius) 2) (C. Valerius) C. Fabius Tuscus 1) (- - -) 2) Iulia Severa Audalea Mumia L. f. Cupita

(- - - Iuliana?)

1) (Q. Tullius) Habitus (- - -) 2) (Q. Alfius - - -)

1) (L. Cornelius) 2) (Valerius)

Wife’s name

III

1) (Antonius) 2) Q. L(icinius?) Niger 1) (- - -) II–III Accius Reburrus 2) Atilia Clara Proculinus Proculi 1) Valeria II 2) Amabilis

II?

I–II?

I

I–II

Dating Husband’s name

Table 17.1 List of remarriages from Roman Spain (cont.)

CIL II, 871s AE 1960, 190t

(filii)

CIL II, 38 = IRCP 331r

CIL II, 5008q

HEp 9, 743p

Iscrições romanas do Conventus Pacensis: subsidios para o estudo da romanização 393n IRCP 407o

Source

Antonia Fundana Mumia Rufina L. Accius Reburrus

1) Q. Tullius Gal. Modestus 2) Tullia Tusca 3) Q. Alfius Modestus M. Antonius Iulianus C. Valerius Iulianus C. Fabius C. f.

1) Cornelia L. f. Maxuma 2) Valeria Amoena

Children’s name

SECUNDAE NUPTIAE: A NEW LOOK AT REMARRIAGE THROUGH EPIGRAPHY

317

Place

Barcino

Barcino

Beleno

Dianium

Ilerda

Requena

Saetabis

Reference

T1

T2

T3*

T4

T5*

T6*

T7*

II

II-III

II

I

II

I

II

1) (M. Granius) 2) (Cornelius)

1) (Marcius?) 2) (Sempronius) 1) (Caecilius) 2) (Fabius)

1) (L. Aemilius) 2) M. Herennius C. f. Gal. Severus (Q. - - -) (Sex. - - -) 1) (Aelius) 2) (Septimius) L. Domitius Eques

Dating Husband’s name

Hispania Citerior Tarraconensis

Table 17.1 List of remarriages from Roman Spain (cont.)

(- - -)

(- - -)

1) Sempronia L. f. Campana 2) (- - -) Marcia Tempestiva

(- - -)

1) M. Granius M. f. Gal. Superstes 2) P. Cornelius Iunianus

M. Marcius Gal. Masclus Sempronia Tempestiva Caecilia C. l. Titis Fabius Messenius

[- - -]us Q. f. Gal. Secundus [- - -]a Sex. f. Sexta 1) Aelius 2) L. Septimius Silo

M. Aemilius L. f. Gal. Optatus

(- - -)

(- - -)

Children’s name

Wife’s name

IRC II, 3y and IRC II, 6z Inscripcions romanes del País Valencià. Vol. IV. Edeta i el seu territori 174aa CIL II, 3624bb

CIL II, 5964x

CIL II, 5735w

IRC IV, 75v

Inscriptions romaines de Catalogne IV, 52u

Source

318 Álvarez Melero

Saguntum

Tarraco Tarraco

Tarraco

Tarraco

Valdeverdeja II

Vizmanos

T9

T10 T11

T12

T13

T14*

T15

(- - -)

1) [- - -] 2) [- - -] (- - -)

Cornelia Aciliana

Aurelia Primitiva Caecilia Galla

Iulia Vitalis Aurelius Cosconianus Cornelius Viator Cornelius Valens Aemilius Severus

AE 1990, 572 = HEp 3, 363jj

CIL II, 5342ii

CIL II²/14–3, 1266hh

CIL II²/14–2, 1187gg

CIL II²/14–3, 1697ee CIL II²/14–3, 1211ff

Plin., Ep. II, 13, 4dd

C. Licinius C. f. Gal. Marinus Voconius Romanus Valeria Modestina 1) M. Granius Probus 2) Herennia Aphrodite Florius Vegetus

(- - -)

Source CIL II²/14–1, 741cc

Children’s name

Antistia P. f. Festiva

Wife’s name

NB: entries marked with an asterisk refer to the ambiguous cases of remarriage on onomastics grounds (transmission of maternal name, adoption, etc.), which led me to exclude the inscription CIL II, 776 as its interpretation remains doubtful (see Mantas 2002: 284). I also have italicized the names of those individuals who were members of the equestrian order or of the local elites. Finally, for ease of reading, I decided to keep the number of references to the epigraphic corpora to a minimum: I restricted them mainly to the CIL II in its more recent edition or to any corpus published after its release, on condition that it provides a new interpretation of the texts, as well as to L’Année épigraphique or Hispania Epigraphica.

?

1) (Iulius) 2) (Aurelius) 1) Arancises 2) Agirsenus

1) (Aemilius) 2) Fabius Avitus C. Voconius Placidus I–II C. Licinius Marinus II Caecilius Polychronius II–III 1) (M. Granius) 2) (Herennius) (Florius) I-II Plautius Plautianus [- - -] I-II?

I

Saguntum

T8

Dating Husband’s name

Place

Reference

Table 17.1 List of remarriages from Roman Spain (cont.)

SECUNDAE NUPTIAE: A NEW LOOK AT REMARRIAGE THROUGH EPIGRAPHY

319

320

Álvarez Melero

a L(ucio) Calpurnio Senecioni, / Terentia L(uci) lib(erta) Felicula / testamento poni iussit, / Fabia L(uci) f(ilia) Fabulla, soror /5 et heres, dedicauit. b Terentia / L(uci) lib(erta) Felicula, filio / Hispaniano poni iussit, / Fabia Fabulla, soror /5 et heres, dedicauit. c Q(uinto) Traio Q(uinti) Trai Are/iani fil(io) Quir(ina) / Areiano, Aruensi, / huic ordo municipi(i) /5 Flaui Aruensis ob / merita laudation(em) / impensam funeris / locum sepulturae / et statuam decreuit. /10 Aemilia Lucilla, mater, / et Sergius Rufinus, fra/ter ei{i}us, / h(onore) u(si) impensam remisere. d D(is) M(anibus) s(acrum) T(itus) M[eduttius] / Philetus an(norum) LI, M(arcus) / Meduttius Fuscus, / Val(eria) Probata /5 et Granius Exochus / patri [eorum] pro s[ua] / indulgentia fec(erunt), / sit tibi t(erra) l(euis), h(ic) s(itus) e(st). e D(is) M(anibus) s(acrum) / C(aia) Aemilia / uix(it) an(nis) XXII / et die Aelia, /5 sorori pi(a)e, / posuit, h(ic) s(ita) e(st), s(it) t(ibi) t(erra) l(euis). f M(arcus) Calpurniu[s - - -] / Vernio, Augustalis, / [C]alpurnia M(arci) l(iberta) Thyce (!), uxor, / Calpurnia M(arci) l(iberta) Nebris, f(ilia), /5 M(arcus) Calpurnius M(arci) l(ibertus) Chrysero[s, f(ilius?)], / Calpurnia M(arci) l(iberta) Phyramis (!), f(ilia), / [C]alpurnia M(arci) l(iberta) Vitalis, f(ilia), / Blattia Modesta, uxor, f(ecit). g D(is) [M(anibus)] s(acrum) / Cl(audio) Graci[li, m]il(iti) leg(ionis) VII G(eminae) F(elicis) et / Iuliae All[a]e, matri, Aurelia Anna, / parentib(us) pientissimis, f(ecit) h(ic) s(itus) est TI. h D(is) M(anibus) [s(acrum)] / Iul(ia) Glyconis, / nat(ione) Nicomedica, / ann(orum) XXXXV, s(it) t(ibi) t(erra) l(euis), /5 L(ucius) Munatius As/clepiades et M(arcus) Lu/canius Auit(us), f(ilii), m(atri) p(iissimae) f(ecerunt). i D(is) M(anibus) / Lebisiniae Auges, / P(ublius) Cussius Phoebianus, / proc(urator) Aug(usti), maritus, et /5 M(arcus) Iulius Verianus, / filius. On Phoebianus, PIR2 C 1639. On Verinus, PIR2 I 617 and on Auge, PIR2 L 138 and Álvarez Melero 2018b (in press), nr. 422. j D(is) M(anibus) s(acrum) // L(ucio) Attio Quintili[o], / an(norum) LXV, s(it) t(ibi) t(erra) [l(euis)], / Memmius Suau[is], / [p]riuignus, et /5 Memmia Su[a]/uola, uxor, / f(aciendum) c(urauerunt). k P(ublio) Caecilio Rufi/niano, an(norum) II, m(ensium) IIX, / P(ublius) C(aecilius) Rufinus, filio, / et Pomp(eia) Chrysis, pri/5uigno, fec(erunt). l Dis Manib(us) / Antonius Seuerus, / Segisamensis, / Allae, matri, Seuerae, sorori, /5 Antonio, au⟨u⟩nculo, Valeriae, ux(ori), / Seuerino, f(ilio), an(norum) XXI / et sibi an(norum) LXXVIII, / hoc m⟨o⟩n⟨u⟩mentum her(edem) / non sequetur. m Caelia Aunia / Iuli Fusci / Tuberiani / uxor, an(norum) L, /5 Clun(iensis), h(ic) s(ita) e(st). / Iulius Auitus, / priuignus, / d(e) s(uo) f(aciendum) c(urauit). n D(is) M(anibus) Corneliae / L(uci) f(iliae) Maxumae (!), / Cornelius Valens, / maritus, Valeria /5 Amoena, soror, f(aciendum) c(urauerunt). o Q(uintus) Tullius Habiti / f(ilius) Gal(eria) Modestus, / an(norum) XX, Tullia Habiti / f(ilia) Tusca, an(norum) V, Q(uintus) Alfius /5 Modestus h(ic) s(iti) s(unt), s(it) u(obis) t(erra) l(euis), / mater f(aciendum) c(urauit). p G(aius!) Valerius Iulianus, Seiliensis, / annorum XVIII, h(ic) s(itus) e(st), s(it) t(ibi) t(erra) l(euis), / M(arcus) Antonius Iulianus, / fratri piissimo, /5 faciendum curauit. q Iuliae Seuerae Audaleae, G(ai!) Fabi C(ai) f(ilii), G(aius!) Fabius Tuscus, optimo filio et piae nouercae. r D(is) M(anibus) s(acrum) / M(umia) L(uci) filia Cu/pita, ann(orum) XXXXIIII, / Q(uintus) L(- -) N(- - -), marit(a)e, et /5 Antonia Fundana / et Mu[m]ia Rufina, / filias (!), matri pi/issim(a)e, posue/runt /10 h(ic) s(ita) e(st), s(it) t(ibi) t(erra) l(euis).

SECUNDAE NUPTIAE: A NEW LOOK AT REMARRIAGE THROUGH EPIGRAPHY s t u v w x y z aa bb cc dd ee ff gg

hh ii jj

321

Lucius Accius Rebur/rus, Ter(mestinus?), ann(orum) XVI, h(ic) s(itus) / e(st), s(it) t(ibi) t(erra) l(euis), / Accius Reburrus, fil(io), et /5 Atilia Clara, priuig/no pio, f(aciendum) c(urauerunt). D(is) M(anibus) s(acrum) / Proculinus / Proculi sibi / et uxoribus (!) /5 piiss⟨i⟩mis / Valeri(a) e et / Amabili, / nutrici / filiorum /10 meorum (!), / f(aciendum) c(urauit). M(arco) Aemilio / L(uci) fil(io) Gal(eria) / Optato, / priuigno, /5 annor(um) XIIII; / huic ordo / Barc(inonensium) aedilic(ios) / et IIuirales / gratuit(o) honores /10 d(ecreuit), / M(arcus) Herennius Seuerus, t(utor). On Severus and Optatus, see Curchin 1990: nr. 433–434. [- - -]us Q(uinti) f(ilius) Gal(eria) Secund(us), / [aed(ilis), II]uir, flamini (!), / [- - -]a Sex(ti) f(ilia) Sexta, sor(or), / [- - -] Secundilla /5 [- - -]. D(is) M(anibus) m(onumentum) / Ael(ius) pos(uit) Sep(timio) Sil(oni), / fra(tri) suo, Vad(iniensi), / anno(rum) XXXV, /5 s(it) t(ibi) t(erra) l(euis), / L(ucio) Sep(timio) Sil(oni), ben(e). L(ucius) Domitius Eques, / an(norum) XXXV, / Sempronia L(uci) f(ilia) / Campana, uxor /5 prior, an(norum) XVIII, h(ic) s(iti) s(unt). G(aio!) Marcio / Gal(eria) Masclo, / aed(ili), IIuir(o), / flam(ini), /5 Marcia / Tempestiua, / mater. On Masclus, Curchin 1990, nr. 744. Semproniae / Tempestiuae, / Marcia / Tempestiua / mater. Caec[ili]ae / C(ai) lib(ertae) [T]itidi, / ann(orum) XXXVIII, m(ensium) II, d(ierum) XXIII, / Fab(ius) Messenius, /5 sorori piissimae. M(arco) Granio M(arci) f(ilio) / Gal(eria) Superstiti, / cui omnes hono/res ob merita uit[ae] /5 a municipibus / suis oblati sunt, / P(ublius) Cor(nelius) Iunianus, / fratri, ex d(ecreto) d(ecurionum), / honore /10 usus, / ex testamento. C(aius) Aemilius Fron/to, an(norum) LX, Coelia / [-] f(ilia) Aestiua, an(norum) LX, Antistia / P(ubli) f(ilia) Festiua Fabi Auiti, /5 nummulari, uxor, an(norum) XXV, / h(oc) m(onumentum) h(eredem) n(on) s(equetur). Is erit Voconius Romanus. Pater ei in equestri gradu clarus; clarior uitricus, immo pater alius (nam huic quoque nomini pietate successit), mater e primis. Memoriae / Valeriae / Modestinae / quae uixit an(nis) / XXIIII, m(ensibus) III, d(iebus) XXVII, /5 Caecil(ius) / Polychronius / et Aurelia / Primitiua, / filiae / karissimae. M(arco) Granio / Probo, dec(urioni), / pontifici, ae/diliciis hono/5ribus functo, / Caecilia Gal/la, mater, et / Herennia Aphro/dite, soror. On Probus, Curchin 1990: nr. 916. [- - -]I / [- - -]MM / R[- - -] Corneliae / Aciliana[e], matri /5 Flori Vegeti, / fl(aminis) p(rouinciae) H(ispaniae) c(iterioris), uxori / Plauti Plautiani, / pr(aefecti) eq(uitum), / ex d(ecreto) p(rouinciae) H(ispaniae) c(iterioris). On Aciliana, Álvarez Melero 2018b (in press), nr. 236. Memoriae / [- - - an]n(orum) XXV, libertae et uxoris, / [- - -] mag(ister) Lar(um), Vxamens(is) Ambirodacus, / [- - - uiuus feci]t et sibi et libertis libertabusq(ue) suis /5 [posteri]sque eorum / [et memoriae - - -]ae prioris uxoris apu⟨d⟩ s[e] defunctae. D(is) M(anibus) s(acrum) / [Iu]l(iae) Vitali, / s⟨o⟩rori ca/rissimae, /5 ann(orum) LXV, Au/[r]elius Cos/conianus, / [ f ]rater, f(aciendum) c(urauit). Cornel[i]us Viator Ara/ncisis f(ilius), an(norum) L, Corneliu(s) / Valens, f(ilius), an(norum) XXV et / Ae(milius) Seuerus Agirseni /5 f(ilius) an(norum) XXXV f(aciendum) c(urauit) mate[r], / s(it) uobis t(erra) l(euis), h(ic) se[p]/ulti sunt.

322

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Dixon, S. 2011. “From Ceremonial to Sexualities: a Survey of Scholarship on Roman Marriage.” In B. Rawson, ed., A Companion to Families in the Greek and Roman Worlds, 245–61. Malden-Oxford. Evans Grubbs, J. 2002. Women and the Law in the Roman Empire. A Sourcebook on Marriage, Divorce and Widowhood. London-New York. Fabre, G. 1990. “Une approche des stratégies familiales : le comportement des notables dans la Tarraconaise nord-orientale vu à travers l’exemple d’Aeso-Isona (fin Ier–IIe siècle ap. J.-C.).” In J. Andreau and H. Bruhns, eds., Parenté et stratégies familiales dans l’antiquité romaine. Actes de la table ronde des 2–4 octobre 1986 (Paris, Maison des sciences de l’homme), 311–31. Rome. Fabre, G., Mayer, M. and Rodà, I. 1990. “Recrutement et promotion des élites municipales dans le nord-est de l’Hispania Citerior sous le Haut-Empire.” Mélanges de l’École française de Rome 102 (2): 525–39. Fayer, C. 1994. La familia romana: aspetti giuridici ed antiquari, vol. II, sponsalia, matrimonio, dote, Rome. Friedl, R. 1996. Der Konkubinat im kaiserzeitlichen Rom von Augustus bis Septimius Severus. Stuttgart. Frier, B.W. and McGinn, Th. A.J., 2003. Casebook on Roman Family Law. Oxford. Gardner, J.F. 1986. Women in Roman Law and Society. London-Sydney. Hersch, K.K. 2010. The Roman Wedding. Ritual and Meaning. Cambridge. Hübner, E. 1894. “Inscripciones romanas de Mérida.” Boletín de la Real Academia de la Historia 25: 465–471. Hübner, S.R. 2009. “Callirhoe’s Dilemma: Remarriage and Stepfathers in the Graeco-Roman East.” In S.R. Hübner and D.M. Ratzan, eds., Growing up Fatherless in Antiquity: 61–82. Cambridge. Humbert, M. 1972. Le remariage à Rome. Étude d’histoire juridique et sociale. Milan. Kajanto, I. 1969. “On Divorce among the Common People of Rome.” Revue des études latines 47bis: 99–113. Kirbihler, F. 2009. “Aspects des stratégies familiales à Éphèse (Ier s. av. J.-C.–IIIe s. apr. J.-C.).” In F. Briquel-Chatonnet, S. Farès and B. Lion, eds., Femmes, cultures et sociétés dans les civilisations méditerranéennes et proche-orientales de l’Antiquité, 53–66. Lyon. Krause, J.-U. 1994. Witwen und Waisen im römischen Reich, vol. I, Verwitwung und Wiederverheiratung. Stuttgart. Mantas, V.G. 2002. “Recensão a José Ignacio Sánchez Albalá e Diego Vinagre Nevado, Corpus de inscripciones latinas de Coria, “Temas Caurienses”, 1, Coria, 1998.” Conimbriga 41: 280–6. McGinn, Th. A.J. 2002. “The Augustan Marriage Legislation and Social Practice: Elite Endogamy versus Male “Marrying Down”.” In J.-J. Aubert and B. Sirks, eds., Speculum iuris. Roman Law as a Reflection of Social and Economic Life in Antiquity, 46–93. Ann Harbor.

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McGinn, Th. A.J. 2004. “Missing Females? Augustus’ Encouragement of Marriage between Freeborn Males and Freedwomen.” Historia 53 (2): 200–08. Navarro Caballero, M. and Ramírez Sádaba, J.L. 2003. Atlas antroponímico de la Lusitania romana. Mérida-Bordeaux. Pérez Zurita, A.D. 2011. La edilidad y las élites locales en la Hispania romana. La proyección de una magistratura de Roma a la administración municipal. Córdoba-Sevilla. Phang, S.E. 2011. The Marriage of Roman Soldiers (13 B.C.–A.D. 235). Law and Family in the Imperial Army. Leiden-Boston-Cologne. Raepsaet-Charlier, M.-Th. 1981. “Cornelia Cet(h)egilla.” L’Antiquité classique 50: 685–97. Raepsaet-Charlier, M.-Th. 1981–1984. “Ordre sénatorial et divorce sous le Haut-Empire romain : un chapitre de l’histoire des mentalités.” Acta classica Universitatis Scientiarum Debreceniensis 17–18: 161–73 and 20: 81–2. Raepsaet-Charlier, M.-Th. 1992. “Le mariage, indice et facteur de mobilité sociale aux deux premiers siècles de notre ère : l’exemple sénatorial.” In E. Frézouls, ed., La mobilité sociale dans le monde romain. Actes du colloque organisé à Strasbourg (novembre 1988) par l’Institut et le Groupe de recherche d’Histoire romaine, 33–53. Strasbourg. Raepsaet-Charlier, M.-Th. 1994. “La vie familiale des élites sous le Haut-Empire romain : le droit et la pratique.” Cahiers du Centre Gustave Glotz 5: 165–97. Raepsaet-Charlier, M.-Th. 1999. “Matronae equestres. La parenté féminine de l’ordre équestre.” In S. Demougin, H. Devijver and M.-Th. Raepsaet-Charlier, eds., L’ordre équestre. Histoire d’une aristocratie (IIe siècle av. J.-C.–IIIe siècle ap. J.-C.). Actes du colloque international organisé par Ségolène Demougin, Hubert Devijver et Marie-Thérèse Raepsaet-Charlier (Bruxelles-Leuven, 5–7 octobre 1995), 215–36. Rome. Raepsaet-Charlier, M.-Th. 2016. Clarissima femina. Études d’histoire sociale des femmes de l’élite à Rome. Scripta varia. Brussels-Rome. Rawson, B. 1986. “The Roman Family.” In B. Rawson, ed., The Family in Ancient Rome. New Perspectives, 1–57. London-Sydney. Saller, R.P. 1984. “Roman Dowry and the Devolution of Property in the Principate.” Classical Quarterly 34: 195–205. Saller, R.P. 1994. Patriarchy, Property and Death in the Roman Family. Cambridge. Schäfer, N. 2000. Die Einbeziehung der Provinzialen in den Reichsdienst in augusteischer Zeit. Stuttgart. Stein, A. 1927. Der römische Ritterstand. Ein Beitrag zur Sozial- und Personengeschichte des römischen Reiches. Munich. Tramunto, M. 2009. Concubini e concubine nell’Italia romana. Fabriano. Treggiari, S. 1991. Roman Marriage. Iusti Coniuges from the Time of Cicero to the Time of Ulpian. Oxford.

Chapter 18

Documenting Hispanic Immigrants in Italia, Gallia, and Britannia M. Cristina de la Escosura Balbás Ac mihi, qui audienti multa legentique, plane compertum urbem Romam externorum uirtute atque insitivis artibus praecipue crevisse Aur. Vict. Caes 11.12

1

⸪

Roma and the Outsider1

Rome grew from the outset as a multi-ethnic society. Tales and legends about its origins narrate exchanges, interactions, and population movements. Rapid expansion throughout the Mediterranean further ensured the arrival of many individuals of different conditions to territories under Roman control. This broad awareness of multi-ethnicity, however, did not cancel out the plurality of ways in which the Roman citizen saw the “outsider”,2 nor the many different forms in which immigrants constructed their identities.3 The “duae patriae” theory of Cicero,4 in which any ciues had two fatherlands, one by nature (the municipality) and one by law (Roma), led to a double condition of “foreignness”: the legal one for non-citizens, on the one hand, and the territorial and communal one for the ciuis Romanus who takes up residence in a community other than his hometown (or, at least, not the one in which he has civic rights), on the other. So the one who comes to a new ciuitas is perceived by the community as ignotus, someone unaware of their history and tradition, and who brings his own imago patriae. Without ancestors, the newcomer does not have an identity formed within the ciuitas and therefore falls outside the solidarity possessed by the members of the community and in 1 This study was made possible with the help of Dr. Silvia Orlandi, David Serrano Lozano, Dr. Silvia Evangelisti, Dr. Estela García Fernández, Dr. Claudia Ferro, Dr. Milagros Navarro Caballero, and Dr. Donato Fasolini. 2 Todisco 2006: 194. 3 i.e. Bonjour 1975; Dondin-Payre—Raepsaet-Charlier 2001; Sartori—Valvo 2011; Roselaar 2012. 4 Cic. Leg. 2.5.

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this way lacks credibility. Although the stranger is acknowledged and allowed in the town, it is always with suspicion, producing in him a sense of caution. Sometimes, the outsider searches for comfort in the little communities of immigrants formed in the urbs where he can find a place in which his background does not draw attention.5 When analyzing migration in the ancient world we must keep in mind that the occasional movements documented in the sources were not always permanent: a traveler could meet an unforeseen fate on the dangerous roads of antiquity.6 A person could live abroad for a limited period of time and return to his or her country after improving his/her education, finishing his/her business or public service.7 Ricci found three motivations to explain migratory activity: labor (artisans, merchants, writers, artists, military or athletes and senators, equites, local magistrates or judges); official representation (ambassadors, employers, illustrious people); and family or other affective bonds.8 The main sources documenting immigrants are literary texts and inscriptions. While the literary sources often report individuals who end up returning to their hometowns or who travel with some regularity, the epigraphic evidence (usually in the form of funerary inscriptions) often speaks of permanent changes of residence. It is impossible to quantify or even to estimate the real numbers of Hispanic immigrants in the Roman Empire. It is a methodological problem, not only in terms of the prosopography, but also due to the impossibility of determining the proportion between the preserved and now lost inscriptions. Hence, we must consider the representativeness of the evidence that has survived and the scope for generalization on the basis of a restricted number of data.9 With these methodological and evidentiary challenges in mind, I offer in this study a sketch of some characteristics and tendencies of the Hispani who migrated and an overview of the actual state of research on the epigraphic evidence.

5 There are attested specific stationes for the legati of some eastern communities, usually in the foro or ad Sacram uiam near the Temple of Romulus and the Temple of Antoninus and Faustina (Moretti 1968–1990: 70–78). From the western communities, there is documented a statio for the Noricum province (CIL 06, 00250 = EDR078477). Maybe there was also a similar place also for the Hispani (Ricci 1992: 108). 6 Ricci 2006a; Alvar Nuño 2011. 7 Some of the Hispani who went back home can be found in Bonjour 1975: 210–211. 8 Ricci 1992: 141. 9 Caballos Rufino 1990b: 204; Ojeda Torres 1991: 61.

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The Hispaniae in the Roman World

The Roman conquest of the Iberian Peninsula, which started with the Second Punic War (218–201 BCE) and concluded after the victory of Augustus in the Cantabrian Wars (19 BCE), marked the beginning of a long series of contacts between the two worlds, which became a single one through the process of Romanization. Migration had begun forcibly following the conquest with the widespread presence of Iberian slaves in international markets.10 When talking about Hispanic movements, we must bear in mind that, after the successful Romanization of Hispania, there was an equally far-reaching “Hispanization” of Rome within the framework of its provincialization.11 Before these longterm processes took place, however, contingents of Hispanic mercenaries who fought in almost every army in the western Mediterranean can be seen as examples of temporary Hispanic migration.12 The best known are the members of the Turma Salluitana to whom Cn. Pompeius Strabo granted Roman citizenship (preserved on the Ascoli Bronce tablet).13 From the Republican era, Hispania was both the origin and the destination of all kinds of migrations, but immigration reached its peak in the period extending from the granting of the Ius Latii by the Flavian emperors until the Ulpio-Aelian dynasty, also called “the Hispanic emperors” (1st–2nd centuries CE).14 Because scholars have focused on Spain as the destination for migrations,15 the migration of Hispani themselves has been very nearly forgotten. Scholars have also replicated the inconsistent picture offered in the sources: while Greek and Latin literary texts mention elites, epigraphy documents a few personal stories without so many details, usually without chronological or geographical context and often the result of random survival chance.

10 11 12 13

14 15

App. Hisp. 68, 98–99; Flor. 1.34; Oros. 5.7.18; Liv. Per 49; Plut. Ser. 3; Plut. Mar. 43. Canto 1999: 237. Blázquez Martínez—García Gelabert Pérez 1987–1988. CIL 01 (2 ed.), 0709 = CIL 06, 37045 = EDR072269. In this study each inscription will be referenced by a printed edition and a digital one, provided by an EAGLE partner: EDR = Epigraphic Database Roma (www.edr-edr.it); EDCS = Epigraphik-Datenbank Clauss/ Slaby (http://db.edcs.eu/epigr/epi_en.php); HD = Epigraphic Database Heidelberg (http://edh-www.adw.uni-heidelberg.de) and X (PETRAE) from Petrae Ausonius (http:// petrae.huma-num.fr/index.php/en). The printed edition reference will follow the guidelines of the EDR Handbook: CIL 00, 00000; AE 0000, 0000; EE 00 0000. Canto 2006. Wilson 1966; Marín Díaz 1986 and 1988; Le Roux 1995; Molina Vidal 1999; Caballos Rufino 2006 and 2012; Uroz Sáez et al. 2008; Pina Polo 2010; Domergue—Rico 2014; Madrid Balanza—Noguera Celdrán 2014; Stefanile 2013a, 2013b, 2013c, 2015a and 2015b.

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This study analyzes inscriptions found in Italy, Gaul, and Britannia in order to determine some of the tendencies of Hispanic migration in the western part of the Roman Empire.16 These areas were chosen because their migration patterns were not driven exclusively by the military.17 In order to acknowledge the different circumstances that cause the mobility of civilians and soldiers, I distinguish between them, when possible, mainly analyzing the place where they arrive. 3

What about the Hispani in Roman Literature?

In Roman literature, the Hispani are often characterized by their uanitas and feritas.18 Soldiers, gladiators and dancers do not have names or specific traits. They are faithless, unreliable and good only for the arts and commerce. Moreover, they have a tendency to excess, ferocity, and war. There are examples of this in the dancers and dance teachers from Gades mentioned by Pliny19 and Martial,20 or in Strabo’s traders and salsamentarii.21 In contrast, the literary sources also record no fewer than ninety Baetican senators dating from the first and second century CE.22 They identify themselves with Roman values, consider themselves Romans, and, consequently, hide their provincial origins. They came predominantly from Gades (Cornelii), Iliberris (Cornelii, Valerii Vegetii, Papirii Aeliani), Corduba (Dasumii, Iunii, Annaeii), and Italica (Aelii, Coelii).23 This did not prevent the constitution of the “Hispanic Clan” which at the end of the first century CE helped the Ulpio-Aelia 16

17

18 19 20 21 22 23

This study is part of the digitization of the Latin epigraphy of Italy carried out by EDR and the European a EAGLE project. Most of the inscriptions cited here are available on www .edr-edr.it or www.eagle-network.eu (EAGLE is the Europeana network of Ancient Greek and Latin Epigraphy, a project for an epigraphic portal to the inscriptions of the Ancient World co-funded by the European Commission. See n. 14 for mobility Italia-Hispania. Besides, we have many references in the literary texts about contacts between the Hispaniae and Britannia and the Galliae: Caes. BGall. 5.13.17; Caes. BCiv. 1.39.2, 1.51.1–6, 1.83.5 and 3.23.5; Tac. Agr. 10.2; Plin. HN. 33.97; Liv. 24.42.7–8; Polyb. 3.33.16; Val. Max. 7.6.3. Dauge 1981: 78–79, 95–97, 110, 173–174, 235–237, 407–408; Ricci 1992: 105. Plin. Ep. 1.15.3. Mart. 1.41.12; 3.63.5; 5.78.26–28; 6.71.2; 14.203. Strab. 3.1.8, 3.5.3. Figures summarized in Caballos Rufino 2009: 275ss. Not all of these individuals are documented only in literary sources. Díaz de Cerio Erasun (2017) documented 84 senators from Baetica, 54 from Hispania Tarraconensis, 23 from Lusitania and 29 incerti. Caballos Rufino 1990a.

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dynasty rise to power.24 The number of Baetican immigrants at that time in the city of Tibur, c. 50 km from Rome, has led some scholars to name it “the little Baetica.”25 Caballos Rufino also documented fifty Tarraconensan and around twenty Lusitanian senators. On the other hand, almost all the Iberian equites known from literary sources were from Hispania Citerior Tarraconensis.26 When we take these figures into consideration, we must make a distinction between senators and equites. We are certain of the number of senators over time (483 under Augustus to 243 under Commodus), and we know almost the half of them.27 We know much less about the equites.28 In particular, we cannot determine the representativeness of the preserved evidence as we can for senators. There also was an important group of Hispanic authors during the Roman imperial period: the rhetorician M. Fabius Quintilianus from Calagurris (35–95 CE), the poet Martial from Bilbilis (45–105 CE), Seneca the Elder (54 BCE–39 CE) and the Younger (5 BCE–65 CE) both from Corduba, like the poet Lucan (39–65 CE), Columella (4–70 CE) from Gades, and the geographer Pomponius Mela from Tingintera. Finally, Roman literary sources document the commercial networks of Iberian products and their traders. Hispania exported olive oil, wine, garum, salted fishes, and minerals (gold, silver, lead, lapis specularis).29 On the Monte Testaccio at Rome there are 26 million amphorae from Baetican oil (88% of the hill).30 Some of its traders appear in the literary record as Hispani, but not all of them. So the individuals without attested origin mentioned in the amphorae epigraphy cannot automatically be considered Hispani (although some of them must have been from Hispania).

24 25 26 27 28 29 30

For the name of the dynasty, Canto 2003; Blázquez Martínez 2003; Chic García 2005: 49; Reggiani 2006; Canto 2006; García-Dils de la Vega—Ordóñez Agulla 200: 291–294. Syme 1982–1983; Ricci 1992: 108 and 2005: 168; Canto 2006: 264; Caballos Rufino 2013. Díaz de Cerio Erasun 2017 registered 102 equites from Hispania Tarraconensis, 64 from Baetica, 20 from Lusitania and ten incerti. The figures of Caballos Rufino (2009: 276) were lower: 97, 39 and 11 respectively. Eck 1993. Caballos Rufino 2009: 271. Str. 3; Polyb. 10.7, 10.10, 34.9.8; Liv. 24.31; Gell. NA. 3.22.28; Plin. NH 31.43.93–94. Since the beginning of the Roman Empire until circa 260 AD, 1.700.000 tons of Baetic oil were transported to Rome. The remaining 12% of the Testaccio are African amphorae from the Severan age. See Blázquez 2007: 179–184.

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4

Identifying the Immigrant in Epigraphy

In every study based on epigraphic sources, especially funerary ones, onomastics is an essential element. The construction of a name and its parts, as reflected in inscriptions, gives us a great deal of information on specific individuals. The familial and patriarchal nature of Roman society lets us know the legal, familial, social, and even geographical condition of many of its members through onomastic analysis. There are 204 inscriptions of potential immigrants coming from Hispania in the territories of Italy, Gaul, and Britannia. These 204 individuals have been classified into five major groups based on the type of reference: (i) origo (sensu lato); (ii) individuals with a Reburrus, Cantaber, or similar elements in their onomastic; people with references to Iberian Peninsula or its provinces in their nomen (iii) or cognomen (iv); and (v) traders specifying the Hispanic character of their products (Fig. 18.1). Reburrus, Cantaber and their variations are traditionally considered Iberian onomastic elements,31 but in fact there is nothing in the sources ensuring their immigrant condition. They could come from Hispania, considering the high level of dispersion of these names in the Iberian Peninsula, but they could also be descendants or relatives of Hispani. This is the reason why they cannot necessarily be considered immigrants. Cognomina with general references to Spain have been left out of the analysis due to the ambiguity of their Hispanic origin. These persons have a link with Hispania, to be sure, but we cannot determine the nature of this association. Moreover, a trader working Hispanic products does not necessarily betray Hispanic origin, as noted above. Thus, only the first group, origo (sensu lato), will be analyzed here, since it is the one category that contains the information needed to examine the places of origin of Hispanic immigrants. Origo includes the legal and social notions that reflect a reality of municipal origin involving a ciuis Romanus who has or has had any kind of relationship with a specific town (not only a legal one), or individuals who are not Roman citizens but employ this element to indicate their origin. This concept can be indicated in four different ways. First, the origo strictu sensu (or with legal meaning) indicates the patria of an individual, its oriundus nature to a specific community.32 The patria is understood in a civic sense as the identity inherited from the father and expressed by the locative or ablative form of the town’s name or by an ethnic adjective finishing in –ensis, with the ciuis unspoken. 31 32

Rubio Alija 1959. Visconti 1939: 89, 103; Andreu Pintado 2008: 352.

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Figure 18.1

Inscriptions of possible immigrants from Hispania, by type of reference

Second, the natio is formally similar but does not have legal status. The natio is a geographical reference that often coincides with a territory without defined limits, which has led some scholars to maintain that the natio is a declaration of an ethnic relationship with that region.33 It is indicated as “natione [name of the area]” or by an ethnic adjective other than the cognomen. Third, the domicilium, indicated by the expression “domo [name of the town],” implied the residence of the person, whether a ciuis or an incola, in the specified community in an expression with legal meaning. Finally, geographical cognomina present several difficulties for their analysis considering that they alone cannot guarantee the origo or origin of an individual. Some cognomina, like Hispanus, could state not only a real origin, but also a family-like relationship34 or even respond to other socio-cultural factors unrelated to the migration of Hispani. Therefore, this last group has been split into two parts in this study: (i) those whose cognomina refer to specific urban entities, which are included in the 33 34

De Ruggiero 1921: 32. Perea Yébenes 2004–2005: 167.

Documenting Hispanic Immigrants in Italia, Gallia, and Britannia 333

study, and (ii) those with general onomastic references to the Iberian peninsula, which have been omitted. 5

Destinations

Rome was the preferred destination among the people documented, not only those who point out their origo but all of the groups described above. This preference for immigration to Rome can be considered a robust tendency in spite of the methodological problems of epigraphical survival noted above. To Rome went 90 of the 129 individuals in the origo (sensu lato) group. The appeal of Rome, as capital, among immigrants of all kinds makes sense. These immigrants came mainly from Tarraconensis (44), with higher figures than Baetica (18) and Lusitania (21), which contrasts with the data from the literary sources, in which references to Baetici predominate. Different types of non-exclusive possibilities for this patterning can be suggested. Perhaps it was due to the more humble origins of Tarraconensis, whose population would fall within the epigraphic threshold, but would not be important enough to appear in the literature. Another hypothesis is the significant presence in Rome of 27 soldiers, especially praetoriani (20) documented in the second century CE, all from Tarraconensis, an imperial province. The formulary of the milites in their funerary inscriptions and the diplomata regularly includes the mention of the origo strictu sensu, something that does not happen in inscriptions belonging to civilians (the condition of most of the Baetici) (Fig. 18.2). Migration to the Italian peninsula is concentrated in Campania and Latium, both regions bound to Hispania through the Italic immigrants of the Republican era,35 and the Po valley, the legal history of which often ran parallel to the history of the legal status of Hispania.36 Latium is the only region with similar figures for civilians and soldiers. This proportion would probably be similar in Rome and Italy if the references to the Iberian Peninsula in the tria nomina were considered from Hispanic immigrants. The need to identify a civilian may cause the choice of a geographical cognomen either it was an adoption did by the immigrant for himself/herself or it was the host community trying to classify the newcomer. This works for all civilians in all provinces. [Fig. 18.3] Gaul and Britannia present opposite phenomena when only individuals with origo in sensu lato are considered. The immigrants to Gaul are all civilians 35 36

i.e. Stefanile 2015b. i.e. García Fernández 2009.

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Figure 18.2

Hispani at Rome, by status

Figure 18.3

Hispani in Italia, by status

Documenting Hispanic Immigrants in Italia, Gallia, and Britannia 335

Figure 18.4

Hispani in Gallia, by status

Figure 18.5

Hispani in Britannia, by status

from the Ebro valley established in the provincial capitals and along the roads of the neighboring Gallic provinces. Their relocation is clearly related to economic reasons. The presence of a neighborhood dedicated to the oil trade in Nemausus (Nimes), for example, supports this hypothesis. The immigrants to Britannia are mainly soldiers associated with the instability of the limes and the military centers there. The presence on the island of auxiliary corps with Hispanic names is well known. However, we cannot conclude that all who served in these forces over time were immigrants from Hispania. As we saw earlier, literary sources mention trade between Hispania and this province (see n. 17). Moreover, the geographical proximity of the provinces and the archaeological remains in the latter suggest the existence of a commercial network between the north of the Iberian Peninsula and Britannia. However, the epigraphy does not offer evidence of this except for the graphites in ceramics mentioning the name Reburrus, which cannot be attributed to Hispania with any kind of assurance. The Reburri could come from Hispania considering the high level of dispersion of these names in the Iberian Peninsula, but it is impossible to know for sure and they must be discarded as securely attested immigrants (Fig. 18.4 and 18.5).

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Figure 18.6

6

Hispani immigrants, by origin

Where Do You Come From, Hispano?

There are 129 immigrants from Hispania in published Latin inscriptions. Most of them (60) were former inhabitants of Tarraconensis. Only the addition of those from Baetica (28) and Lusitania (29) approach these figures. The remaining twelve, nearly all civilians, give only a general reference to Hispania (Fig. 18.6). The small number of Baetican soldiers (only one legionary from Italica on an inscription at Aquileia: CIL 05, 00932 = EDR117768) suggests that Baetici moved primarily for economic and social reasons. The destination was usually Italy, including Rome, except for one woman found in Massilia, in Gallia Narbonensis (CIL 12, 00412 = EDCS08400992), and a person of unknown status in Deua, in Britannia (EE 09 1075 = RIB 0518 = HD069788). The hometown ciuitates of Baetici correspond with the main cities of the province, i.e., the ones present in the trade network and the origin of senators and equites (as said above): Corduba (4), Italica (4), Astigi (3), and Gades (6). The two epigraphs referring to the inhabitants of Gades found in the Flavian Amphitheater in Rome are probably the best indication of socially motivated immigration. These inscriptions indicate the seats reserved for the citizens of Gades (CIL 06, 32098m = EDR100682; CIL 06, 32098l = EDR100772) and allow us hypothesize a statio at Rome for Hispani (maybe only for people from Gades, or maybe Baetici more generally), like those for eastern communities. In another vein, Baetican senators and members of the ordo equestre are underrepresented in

Documenting Hispanic Immigrants in Italia, Gallia, and Britannia 337

the epigraphic record. Did they identify as Hispani, Baetici, or Cordubenses, or just as Romans, simply not mentioning their origins in the epigraphs? The vastness of Citerior Tarraconensis does not explain the big difference in the number of testimonies; more Baetici would be expected due to their outstanding mobility (as reflected in the literary sources). Especially significant is the high number of soldiers from Tarraconensis (25). The dispersion of their ciuitates is directly related to the degree of Romanization and its chronology. All immigrants coming from northwestern conuentus (Asturum, Lucensis, Bracaraugustanus) served in the military. In contrast, those coming from the conuentus of the eastern coast (Tarraconensis and Carthaginensis), the first regions of the Iberian Peninsula to be conquered and, therefore, more Romanized, were all civilians. From the two remaining regions (Caesaraugustanus and Cluniensis), located in the middle of the Peninsula, we find half of each kind. In spite of the scarce number of inscriptions in relation to the unknown immigrants who set up inscriptions in their new homes, we can identify a tendency connected with the epigraphic habit of this province. The stages of the conquest of Hispania Citerior can be traced by following the number of civilians mentioned in the inscriptions: higher figures mean greater antiquity. A less intense and homogeneous process of Romanization is also reflected in the mention of different realities as we can observe in Table 18.1 below: origo (sensu stricto), the name of the province, the conuentus and a natio. In Tarraconensis, there is no relationship between capital city status and migration, as there is in Baetica, because the conuentus capital cities are mentioned, but do not stand out. Even though it was not a capital, Segobriga (6) was a strategic point for communications and exploitation of lapis specularis and, thus, was the hometown of many immigrants not only in Roman Europe, but also in Hispania. Lusitania has the most balanced ratio between civilians (18) and military personnel (11). From the conuentus Emeritensis, two-thirds were soldiers, mostly from Augusta Emerita. Given the importance of Mérida as conuentus and provincial capital, more diversity in the legal and social status of the immigrants would be expected. Its foundation as a settlement for veterans in the first century CE cannot explain this phenomenon a century later. The only Lusitani who did not immigrate to Rome were from conuentus Emeritensis: three soldiers and one civilian moved to Britannia.37 The situation for the conuentus Pacensis, closest to the Romanized regions of Baetica, reinforces the correlation between Romanization and a relative lack of military immigration. 37

Also CIL 12, 04539 = EDCS09301703 was found in Narbo, Gallia, but cannot be ascribed to any conuentus.

Nemausus

EDR100506 EDR100516 EDR113240 EDR006496 EDCS09201806 EDCS09301531 HD036996 EDR100504 EDR100525 EDR100466

CIL 06, 13820 CIL 06, 27066 CIL 06, 37541 Väänänen 1973, 84, nr. 120 CIL 12, 03332

CIL 12, 04366

CIL 13, 02580

CIL 06, 09597 CIL 06, 31267 CIL 06, 01361

Hispania Hispania Hispania Hispania

Hispania

Hispania

Hispania

Hispania Baetica Baetica

B B

Roma Roma Roma Roma

EDR100501

CIL 06, 05337

Hispania

Roma Roma Roma

Narbo Martius Ambarri

Roma

Ferrara Pompei Roma

EDR077172 EDCS26000339 EDR100472

AE 1978, 0342 CIL 04, 04778 CIL 06, 01626

Hispania Hispania Hispania

Ancient city

EAGLE database

Editiones

Corpus of documented immigrants from Hispania

Origoa

Table 18.1

(Rhôde-Alpes, France) Roma (Italy) Roma (Italy) Roma (Italy)

Narbonne (France)

Nîmes (France)

Roma (Italy) Roma (Italy) Roma (Italy) Città del Vaticano

Roma (Italy)

Ferrara (Italy) Pompei (Italy) Roma (Italy)

Modern city

Rapetiga … ciuis Hispanus Hispania Vlterior Baetica prouinc(iam) Beatic(am)

Q(uinto) Vettio Gracili … natione Hispan(o) C(aius) Plotidiu[s] C(ai) f(ilius) Vo[lt?] Celer [-]i[—]ispan[-] Hispanu[s]

T(ito) Iulio Urbano na(tione) Hispano Cresces Hispano Cn(eo) Pompeio Homullo Aelio Gracili Cassiano Longino Cn(aeo) Turranio Eutucheti … n̅ (atione) Hispanus Caeciliae Graecula`e´ natione Hispana Syniscasis f(ilia) Hiberorum Hispanị Papiri Prisci [—n]sis ex Hispa[nia —]

Immigrant or mention

338 de la Escosura Balbás

Roma Roma Roma Deva Capua? / Casilinum?

EDR112648 EDCS12201422 EDR113241 EDR032851 EDR075880 EDR100512 EDR100528 EDR100530 HD069788 EDR005791

EDR121613

CIL 06, 11705 CIL 06, 20742 CIL 15, 07558 AE 1992, 0152

AE 1975, 0019

CIL 06, 20768 CIL 06, 34664 CIL 06, 38595

EE 09 1075 = RIB 0518 CIL 10, 03964

CIL 06, 09634

B

B B B

B

B

B

Tucci

Corduba Corduba Corduba

Corduba

Sisapo

Sisapo

Cor.

Cor.

Cor.

Cor. Cor. Cor.

Ast.

Ast. Ast. Ast. Ast.

B B B B

Astigi Astigi Iliberri Iliberri

Roma

Roma

Roma Roma Roma Roma

Verona

EDCS04202411

CIL 05, 03365

Ast.

B

Astigi

Ancient city

EAGLE database

Editiones

Corpus of documented immigrants from Hispania (cont.)

Origoa

Table 18.1

S. Maria Capua Vetere (Caserta)? / Capua(Caserta)? (Italy) Roma (Italy)

Chester (England)

Roma (Italy) Roma (Italy) Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy) Roma (Italy) Roma (Italy) Roma (Italy)

Verona (Italy)

Modern city

Dubitato … Natio(ne) Astesit (:Astigit(anus)) L(uci) Anni Astici M(arcus) Iul(ius) Hermesianus Q(uinti) Valeri Vegeti L(uci) Popili Dentonis M(arci) Alli Pudentis Iliber⟨r⟩itani P(ublio) Petillio Q(uinti) f(ilio) Ga[l(eria)] Colono ex prouincia Baetica Tuccitano C(aius) Iunius Celadus Cordubensis Baebia Venusta domo Cordub[a] L(ucius) Manlius A(uli) f(ilius) Cor(nelia) Canus Colonia Patricia Corduba L(ucius) Antestius L(uci filius) Serg(ia) Sabinus [C]ordub(a) Epapra socioru(m) Sisapo[n]es[i]u[m] uìlico

Immigrant or mention

Documenting Hispanic Immigrants in Italia, Gallia, and Britannia 339

EDR100502 EDR100531 EDR107670 EDR071957 EDR032852 EDR117768 EDCS08400992 EDR100518

CIL 06, 09013 CIL 06, 38809

CIL 14, 04778 CIL 11, 07248 AE 1992, 0153

CIL 05, 00932

CIL 12, 00412

CIL 06, 28151

B B

B B B

B

B

B

Gades Baesaro

Malaca Italica Italica

Italica

Italica

Ilipa

His.

His.

His.

Gad. His. His.

Gad. Gad.

EDR113112 EDR100772 EDR100682 EDR072253 EDR136312

CIL 06, 30430 CIL 06, 320981 CIL 06, 32098m AE 1908, 0222 CIL 09, 00235

B B B B B

Gades Gades Gades Gades Gades

Gad. Gad. Gad. Gad. Gad.

EAGLE database

Editiones

Roma

Massilia

Aquileia

Ostia (unknown) Roma

Roma Roma

Roma Roma Roma Brixia Tarentum

Ancient city

Corpus of documented immigrants from Hispania (cont.)

Origoa

Table 18.1

Roma (Italy)

Marseille (France)

Aquileia (Italy)

Ostia antica (Italy) Fetovaia, bei (Italy) Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy) Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy) Roma (Italy) Roma (Italy) Brescia (Italy) Tarento (Italy)

Modern city

[—]o Gaditan[o —] Gaditanorum Gaditan[orum - - -?] Smaragido … n(atione) Gaditano L(ucio) Iunio L(uci) f(ilio) Gal(eria) Moderato Columellae Carpime Gaditanae C(aius) Pupius Restitutus ex prouincia Baetica ciuitate Baesarensi M(arcus) Aemilius Malacitanu`s´ P(ublius) Acilius Attianus Iunia L(uci) f(ilia) Amoena ex prouinci[a] Baetica municipị[o] Italica L(ucius) Rutius L(uci) f(ilius) Serg(ia) Italica Sabinus ex Hispania Etrìlia Laeta Syriacì ( filia) ex Hispan(ia) Baet(ica) Italicensis Valeriae f(iliae) Domitia Clodiana Ilipensis ex prouincia Baetica

Immigrant or mention

340 de la Escosura Balbás

Astu.

EDR100526

CIL 06, 03886

T

Roma

Asturica Augusta

Astu.

EDR100482

T

Roma Roma

EDR073199 EDR006552

Asturica Augusta

Astu. Astu.

AE 1933, 0095 Bull. Comm. Arch. Rom., 43, 1915, p. 323, con facsimile (L. Cantarelli) CIL 06, 02536

T T

Roma

Roma

EDR100524

CIL 06, 29724

Asturica Augusta Asturica Augusta

Astu.

T

Mutina?

EDR131817

T

Roma

T

Roma

EDR005209

EDR100514

CIL 06, 21763

T

Citerior Tarraconensis Citerior Tarraconensis Citerior Tarraconensis Conv. Asturum

Tusculum

Ancient city

Not. Sc., 1915, p. 48, nr. 42 CIL 11, 00844

EDCS05800592

CIL 14, 02613

B

Nertobriga

His.

EAGLE database

Editiones

Corpus of documented immigrants from Hispania (cont.)

Origoa

Table 18.1

Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy) Roma (Italy)

Savignano sul Panaro (Italy) Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy)

Frascati (Italy)

Modern city

L(ucius) Flauius L(uci) f(ilius) Pom(ptina) Caesianus Asturica [- - -]s Flauinus Astu[rica]

M(arcus) Aemilius M(arci) f(ilius) Gal[(eria) —] Hispania Citerio[re —] [- - -]o L(uci) f(ilio) Siluan(o) … conuentus [- - -] Asturum T(itus) Fla[uius —]o Ast(urica) C(aio) Proculeio C(ai) f(ilio) Pom(ptina) Rufo Asturica

ex Hispania ulteriore prouincia Baetica municipium Concordia Iulia Nertobrigenses [—]nius C(ai) f(ilius) [—M?]aceṛ [— ex? Hispani]ạ cite[rio]re Atilia natione Calleca

Immigrant or mention

Documenting Hispanic Immigrants in Italia, Gallia, and Britannia 341

160100900263 (PETRAE)

CIL 13, 00621

T

Curnonium

EDR079175

AE 1984, 0065

T

Complutum

AE 1921, 0083

T

Calagurris

160100900054 (PETRAE) EDR072857

CIL 13, 00612

T

Bilbilis

EDCS08401355

CIL 12, 00735

T

Bilbilis

EDR100491

CIL 06, 02728

T

Bilbilis

EDR100462

CIL 06, 00009

Cae.

Cae.

Cae.

Cae.

Cae.

Cae.

Cae.

T

Caesaraugusta

EDR155356

CIL 09, 00793

Cae.

T

EDR100496 EDR110542

CIL 06, 03349 CIL 06, 01446b

Bra. Cae.

T T

Bracara Conv. Caesaraugustanus Caesaraugusta

EAGLE database

Editiones

Roma (Italy) Bordeaux (France)

Roma Burdigala

Roma (Italy)

Bordeaux (France)

Burdigala Roma

Arles (France)

Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy)

Lucera (Italy)

Roma (Italy) Roma (Italy)

Modern city

Arelate

Roma

Roma

Luceria

Roma Roma

Ancient city

Corpus of documented immigrants from Hispania (cont.)

Origoa

Table 18.1

L(uci) Ponti Gal(eria) Nigrini [Br]ac(ara) L(ucio) Liuio L(uci) f(ilio) Ocellae Sussetanei L(ucio) Iunio L(uci) f(ilio) Albano A[ni(ensis)] Cesa[r]august(a) [ex] Hisp[a]n(ia) ci[te]rior(e) T(itus) Popilius T(iti) fil(ius) Ani(ensis) Brocchus Caesar(ea) Aug(usta) T(itus) Acilius T(iti) f(ilius) Capito Galeria Birbili Metelliae Protidis matri Birbilitan(iae) Lucinae L(ucio) Antonio L(ucii) f(ilio) Gal(eria) Statuto domo Bilbil(itano) C(aio) Mario C(ai) f(ilio) Aemiliano Calaur(ri) L(ucius) Aemilius L(uci) f(ilius) Qui(rina) Candidus Compluto L(ucio) Hostilio Saturnino Hispan(o) Curnonensì

Immigrant or mention

342 de la Escosura Balbás

Bordeaux (France)

Burdigala

EDCS10400566 EDR126679 16010090014 (PETRAE) EDR093359

CIL 13, 00414

CIL 06, 02379, 2, 23 CIL 13, 00586

T

T

T

T

T

T

T

Pompaelo

Turiasso

Turiasso

Conv. Carthaginensis

Carthago Nova

Carthago Noua

Biatia

Car.

Car.

Car.

Car.

Cae.

Cae.

Cae.

EDCS10400412

EDR100483 EDR122011

CIL 13, 00259

CIL 06, 02607

CIL 06, 02381b, 1, 13

CIL 06, 41084

Roma (Italy)

Aquae Tarbellicae Roma

EDR100485

CIL 06, 02629

Cae.

T

Roma

Roma

Lugdunum Convenarum

Roma

Roma

Roma (Italy)

Saint-Bertrand-deComminges (France) Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy)

Dax (France)

Roma (Italy)

Larino (Italy)

Osca

Larinum

EDCS08201431

CIL 09, 00733

Cae.

T

Modern city

Leonica

Ancient city

EAGLE database

Editiones

Corpus of documented immigrants from Hispania (cont.)

Origoa

Table 18.1

C(aius) Fabius C(ai) f(ilius) Ser(gia) Crispus Carthag(ine Noua) ]idius L(uci) f(ilius) Vel(ina) Priscianus Bia(tia?)

M(arcus) Sulpicius Primulus … Turiassonesis Q(uinto) Caecilio Q(uinti) [ f(ilio) Oinogeno f(ilio)?] conuentus Ca[rthaginiensis] Canpan[us nat(ione)] / H(ispanus) Iul(ia) Nou(a) [Karth(agine)]

L(ucius) Domitius Secundus ⸢T⸣urias(o)

M(arcus) Valerius C(ai) f(ilius) Hispanus domo Leonica C(aius) Antonius C(ai) f(ilius) Qui(rina) Priscus Osca [A]emilius Placidius Pompaelonensis

Immigrant or mention

Documenting Hispanic Immigrants in Italia, Gallia, and Britannia 343

EDR100509 EDCS05801796 EDR005042 EDR110541 EDR100515 EDR100532 EDR100478 EDCS09301700

EDR076721

CIL 06, 16247

CIL 14, 03795

AE 1992, 0156 CIL 06, 01446a

CIL 06, 21956 CIL 06, 39136

CIL 06, 02454

CIL 12, 04536

CIL 06, 03654

T

T

T T

T T

T

T

T

Saetabis

Saetabis

Segobriga Segobriga

Segobriga Segobriga

Segobriga

Segobriga

Urci

Car.

Car.

Car.

Car. Car.

Car. Car.

Car.

Car.

EDR112642 EDR100503

CIL 06, 02930 CIL 06, 09587

T T

Dianium Pollentia

Car. Car.

EAGLE database

Editiones

Roma

Narbo Martius

Roma

Roma Roma

Roma Roma

Tibur

Roma

Roma Roma

Ancient city

Corpus of documented immigrants from Hispania (cont.)

Origoa

Table 18.1

Roma (Italy)

Narbonne (France)

Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy) Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy) Roma (Italy)

Tivoli (Italy)

Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy) Roma (Italy)

Modern city

Aelio Dianesi M(arcus) Licinius Philomusus … Pollentinus C(aius) Cornelius C(ai) f(ilius) Iunianus ex Hispania Citeriore Saetabitanus L(ucio) Lic[inio —] ex Hisp(ania) Ci[teriore] municipio Saetabi [— Sego?]briga L(ucio) Liuio L(uci) f(ilio) Ocellae q(uaestori) Segobrigenses M(arci) Manli Saturnini Segobri(ga) [- - -]nio Q(uinti) f(ilio) [- - -]rno [Segob] rigensis C(ai) Aeli C(ai) f(ili) Gal(eria) Aeliani Sego[briga] C(aius) Iulius C(ai) f(ilius) Gal(eria) Italus … ex Hispania citeriore Segobrìgens(is) P(ublio) Valerio P(ubli) f(ilio) Gal(eria) Prisco Urc[i]tano ex Hisp(ania) citer(iore)

Immigrant or mention

344 de la Escosura Balbás

Roma Deva Lindum Roma Roma Roma

EDR126819 HD069730 HD069559 EDR100469 EDR112643 EDR100505 EDR117763 EDR030811 EDR100500 EDR121980 EDR100493

CIL 16, 00025

CIL 07, 00168 = RIB 0452 CIL 07, 00184 = RIB 0256 CIL 06, 01454 CIL 06, 06709 CIL 06, 10184

CIL 05, 00920 CIL 06, 24162 CIL 06, 03853

CIL 06, 02385

CIL 06, 02754

T

T

T T T

T T T

T

T

Clunia

Clunia

Clunia Palantia Palantia

Palantia Segisamo Segontia

Lucus Augusti

Lucus Augusti

Luc.

Luc.

Clu. Clu. Clu.

Clu. Clu. Clu.

Clu.

Clu.

Clu.

T

Clunia

Roma

Roma

Aquileia Roma Roma

Roma

EDR113053

CIL 06, 24212

Car.

T

Valeria

Ancient city

EAGLE database

Editiones

Corpus of documented immigrants from Hispania (cont.)

Origoa

Table 18.1

Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy)

Aquileia (Italy) Roma (Italy) Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy) Roma (Italy) Roma (Italy)

Lincoln (England)

Chester (England)

Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy)

Modern city

Piperclae Successus contub(ernali) … domo Valeria [-] Stai C(ai) f(ilii) Galeria Saturnini [C] lunia L(ucius) [Bruttius?] Galer(ia) Praesens [Cl]unia L(uci) Semproni Flauini … (H)ispani Galeria Clunia conuentus Cluniens(is) Q(uinto) Volusio Pallanti M(arco) Ulpio Aracintho … Hispano … natione Palantinus C(aius) L(- - -) Ispanus Phoebus … Hispanus natus Segisamoine [- - - Hispania Ci]teriore Conu[entu Cluniensi] / Segonti[ni] C(aius) C[—]s Maiorin(us) Ian(uarius?) Luco Aug(usti) M(arcus) Troianius M(arci) f(ilius) Marcellus Luc(o) Aug(usti)

Immigrant or mention

Documenting Hispanic Immigrants in Italia, Gallia, and Britannia 345

EDR113051 EDCS09301541 EDR100517 EDR093383 EDR100522 EDR100467 EDR100523 EDR112651 EDR100511

CIL 06, 21297 CIL 12, 04377

CIL 06, 27198

CIL 06, 31739

CIL 06, 28624

CIL 06, 01410 CIL 06, 28743

CIL 06, 19279 CIL 06, 18190

Tarr. Tarr.

T T

T

T

T

T T

T L

Aeso

Barcino

Iesso

Iluro Saguntum

Valentia Lusitania

Tarr.

Tarr. Tarr.

Tarr.

Tarr.

Tarr.

Roma

EDR032854

Tarr.

T

Conv. Tarraconensis Tarraco Tarraco

Roma Roma

Roma Roma

Roma

Roma

Roma Narbo Martius Roma

Deva

HD069805

EE 07 0897 = RIB 0535 AE 1992, 0155

T

Lucus Augusti

Luc.

Ancient city

EAGLE database

Editiones

Corpus of documented immigrants from Hispania (cont.)

Origoa

Table 18.1

Roma (Italy) Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy) Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy) Narbonne (France)

Roma (Italy)

Chester (England)

Modern city

Q(uintus) Longinius Pomentina Laetus Luco Corbuloni o [ f ]ilio nat(ione) Tarracone L(uci) Licini Secundi L(ucius) Afranius Cerialis l(ibertus) Eros … domo Ta/racone M(arci) Terenti Paterni ex H(is)p(ania) Citeriore Aesonensi [L(ucio) Mini]c[i]o L(uci) f(ilio) Gal(eria) Natali Vesonia Cn(ei) f(ilia) Procula ex Hispania Citeriore Iessonensis M(arcus) Vibius Maternus Ilurensis P(ublius) Ve tu riu(s) P(ubli) f(ilius) Niger Sagun̂ tinus C(aio) Antonio Valentiano T(itus) Flauius Rufus ex Hispania Vlteriore Lusitania

Immigrant or mention

346 de la Escosura Balbás

L L

L

L

L

Emerita Augusta Emerita Augusta

Emerita Augusta

Emerita Augusta

Avila

Eme.

Eme.

Eme.

Eme. Eme.

AE 1911, 0132 EE 09 1058 = RIB 0492 EE 09 1063 = RIB 0501 EE 09 1064 = RIB 0502 CIL 06, 02490

Roma

EDR100499

L

Emerita Augusta

Eme.

EDR119535 EDR100536

CIL 14, 02884 Bull. Comm. Arch. Rom., 43, 1915, p. 61 (L. Cantarelli) CIL 06, 03491

L L

Lusitania Emerita Augusta

Eme.

Praeneste Roma

EDR102150

CIL 06, 10048

L

Lusitania

Luguvallium Deva Deva Deva Roma

HD028923 HD069763 HD069772 HD069773 EDR100481

Narbo Martius Roma

EDCS09301703

CIL 12, 04539

L

Lusitania

Ancient city

EAGLE database

Editiones

Corpus of documented immigrants from Hispania (cont.)

Origoa

Table 18.1

Roma (Italy)

Chester (England)

Chester (England)

Carlisle (England) Chester (England)

Roma (Italy)

Palestrina (Italy) Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy)

Narbonne (France)

Modern city

G(aius) Louesius Papir(ia) Cadarus Emerita Q(uintus) Postumius Q(uinti) f(ilius) Papir(ia) [S]olus Emerita L(ucio) Cornelio Firmano Q(ui)r(ina) Auila

C(aius) Vibellius Fortunatus Emeritus Augustorum Sigilius Emerit(a) Caecilius Auitus Emer(ita) Aug(usta)

[C(aius) Appu]leius Diocles … [nati]one Hispanus Lusitanus C(aio) Appuleio Diocli … natione hispano C(aius) Iulius C(ai) f(ilius) Pap(iria) Flaccus Aug(usta Emerita)

T(ito) Sex(to) Manlio Lusitano

Immigrant or mention

Documenting Hispanic Immigrants in Italia, Gallia, and Britannia 347

EDCS1720217 EDR100463 EDR100464 EDR100527 EDR100507 EDR100470 EDR100471 EDR110754 EDR110755

CIL 06, 00121 CIL 06, 00208a

CIL 06, 00208b

CIL 06, 32682

CIL 06, 14234 CIL 06, 01455

CIL 06, 01456

CIL 06, 01457

CIL 06, 01458

L L

L

L

L L

L

L

L

Norba Norba

Norba

Pax Iulia

Ebora Myrtilis

Myrtilis

Myrtilis

Myrtilis

Pac.

Pac.

Pac.

Pac. Pac.

Pac.

Eme.

Eme. Eme.

Roma

Roma

Roma

Roma Roma

Roma

Roma

Roma Roma

Roma

EDR100513

L

Evandria

Eme.

Aquae Sulis

HD069474

CIL 07, 00052 = RIB 0159 CIL 06, 21569

L

Caurium

Eme.

Ancient city

EAGLE database

Editiones

Corpus of documented immigrants from Hispania (cont.)

Origoa

Table 18.1

Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy) Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy) Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy)

Bath (England)

Modern city

L(ucius) Vitellius Mantai f(ilius) Tanc[i] nus ciues hisp(anus) Cauriensis Luciferae Atticianus coniugi … ex Hispania Eu(andriana) M(arcus) Aemilius Longus Norbanianus C(aius) Marcius C(ai) f(ilius) Serg(ia) Saluianus Norba C(aius) Marcius C(ai) f(ilius) Serg(ia) Saluianus Norba M(arcus) Iulius M(arci) f(ilius) Neuianus Pace Iulia Calpurniae Iliadi Eborensi ex Lusitania L(ucio) Mario Veg[e]tino Marciano Miniciano Gal(eria) Myrti[l]iano L(ucio) Mario L(uci) fil(io) Gal(eria) Vegetino Marciano Mi[n]iciano L(ucius) Marius Vegetinus Marcianus Minicianus Vegetinus

Immigrant or mention

348 de la Escosura Balbás

EDR100510 EDR032853

EDR100484 EDR107725 EDR100508 EDR100497

CIL 06, 16310

AE 1992, 0154

CIL 06, 02614

CIL 14, 04822 CIL 06, 16100

CIL 06, 03422

L

L

L

L L

L

Salacia

Meldubriga

Scallabi

Aeminium Collippo

Natione Arava

Roma

Ostia Roma

Roma

Roma

Roma

Roma

Ancient city

Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy) Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy)

Roma (Italy)

Modern city

C(aius) Melamus C(ai) f(ilius) Gal(eria) Rufinus Salacia L(uci) Corneli Secundi ex prouincia Lusitania Salacensis L(ucio) Val(erio) L(uci) f(ilio) C[—] Meldubr[igens(i)] ; L(ucio) Va[l(erio) L(uci) f(ilio)? —] Meldubri[gens(i)] M(arcus) Paccius M(arci) f(ilius) Iul(ia) Auitus Scallabi M(arcus) Caesius Maximus Aeminiensis Corintho Helui Philippi ser(uo) ex Lusitania municip(io) Collipponensi Reginiae Titulae co(n)i(ugi) nat(ione) Araua

Immigrant or mention

a B: Baetica, T: Tarraconensis, L: Lusitania; Ast.: conuentus Astigitanus, Cor: Cordubensis, Gad: Gaditanus, His: Hispalensis, Astu: Asturum, Bra: Bracaraugustanus, Cae: Caesaraugustanus, Car: Carthaginensis, Clu: Cluniensis, Luc: Lucensis, Tar: Tarraconensis, Eme: Emeritensis, Pac: Pacensis, Sca: Scallabitanus.

Sca.

Sca. Sca.

Sca.

Pac.

Pac.

EDR100486

CIL 06, 02685

L

Salacia

Pac.

EAGLE database

Editiones

Corpus of documented immigrants from Hispania (cont.)

Origoa

Table 18.1

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Conclusions

Fifty-six ciuitates are documented as the hometowns of the Hispanic immigrants to Italy, Gaul, and Britannia who left an inscription mentioning their origo. Most of these Hispani (and the pseudo-Hispani, too) lived between the first and second century CE. The nature of the sources analyzed requires a cautious approach, since the information they provide is biased and subject to the whims of conservation. As a result, we cannot determine how many Hispani left the Iberian Peninsula, nor how many of those who left evidence were from Hispania, but we can infer some broad tendencies of their migration patterns through their brief stories.38 These show a bigger migration volume from Tarraconensis; an inverse relationship between Romanization and military immigration; and the absence of correlation between capital status and migration except, perhaps, for Baetica. All of these immigrants preferred to move to Rome although a few went to the most active areas of Italy, especially Latium and Campania. When they settled in Gaul and Britannia, it was mainly for economic or military reasons, respectively. In the end, however, these stories leave more questions than answers. Why, how, and to whom does an individual feel the need to identify with geographical or legal concepts? Is it the immigrant or the host community who takes the first step in this process? Why do people choose their origins, as opposed to any other form of identity, as the way to identify themselves at the time of their death? Bibliography Alvar Nuño, A. 2011. El viaje y sus riesgos. Los peligros de viajar en el mundo grecoromano. Madrid. Andreu Pintado, J. 2008. “Sentimiento y orgullo cívico en Hispania: en torno a las menciones de origo en la Hispania Citerior.” Gerión 26.1: 349–378. Balil, A. 1956. “Un factor difusor de la romanización: las tropas hispánicas al servicio de Roma (siglos III–I a. de J.C.).” Emerita 24: 108–134. Blázquez Martínez, J.M. 1970. “Migraciones en la Hispania romana en época imperial.” Anuario de Historia Económica y Social 3: 7–25. 38

The EAGLE Storytelling Platform, which allows for the creation of multimedia narratives on epigraphic content and for them to be shared on the web, counts an example of a migration story from an inscription from Cagliari (Italy). See Ambra 2016.

Documenting Hispanic Immigrants in Italia, Gallia, and Britannia 351 Blázquez Martínez, J.M. 2003. Trajano. Barcelona. Blázquez Martínez, J.M. 2007. “Inscripciones de olearii en Hispalis” in M. Mayer i Olivé, G. Baratta, and A. Guzmán Almagro, eds., Acta XII Congressus Internationalis Epigraphiae Graecae et Latinae, 179–184. Barcelona. Blázquez Martínez, J.M, and García Gelabert Pérez, M. P. 1987–1988. “Mercenarios hispanos en las fuentes literarias y en la arqueología.” Habis 18–19: 257–270. Bonjour, M. 1975. Terre natale: études sur une composante affective du patriotisme romain. Paris. Caballos Rufino, A. 1990a. Los senadores hispanorromanos y la romanización de Hispania: siglos I al III d.C. Prosopografía. Écija. Caballos Rufino, A. 1990b. “La técnica prosopográfica en la Historia Antigua. Sir Ronald Syme in memoriam.” Veleia 7: 189–207. Caballos Rufino, A. 1995. “Los caballeros romanos originarios de la Provincia Hispania Ulterior Bética. Catálogo Prosopográfico.” In J. San Bernardino Coronil, F. E. Álvarez Solano and A.J. de Miguel Zabala, eds., Arqueólogos, historiadores y filólogos: homenaje a Fernando Gascó, vol. I, 289–344. Sevilla. Caballos Rufino, A. 2006. “Genearcas en los procesos de integración del Bajo valle del Baetis,” In A. Sartor and A. Valvo. eds., Hiberia-Italia. Italia-Hiberia. Convegno Internazionale di Epigrafia e Storia Antica: Gargnano—Brescia (28–30 aprile 2005), 407–431. Milano. Caballos Rufino, A. 2009. “La extracción de hispanos para formar parte de la aristocracia imperial: senadores y caballeros.” In J. Andreu Pintado, J. Cabrero Piquero and I. Rodà de Llanza, eds., Hispania: las provincias hispanas en el mundo romano, 265–282. Tarragona. Caballos Rufino, A. 2012. “Colonización, integración y vertebración: El caso de Itálica.” In S. Demougin and J. Scheid, eds., Colons et colonies dans le monde romain, 7–39. Roma. Caballos Rufino, A. 2013. “De Hispania a Tibur: elites imperiales en el entorno de Villa Adriana.” In R. Hidalgo Prieto and M.P. León-Castro Alonso, eds., Roma, Tibur, Baetica: investigaciones adrianeas, 21–76. Sevilla. Caballos Rufino, A., and Demougin, S. 2006. Migrare: la formation des élites dans l’Hispanie romaine. Paris. Calzada González, A. 2010. “Origo, incolae, munícipes y civitas romana a la luz de la lex Irnitana.” RIDROM: Revista Internacional de Derecho Romano 4: 17–51. Canto, A.M. 1999. “Saeculum Aelium, Saeculum Hispanum: Poder y promoción de los hispanos en Roma” In Hispania: el Legado de Roma. En el año de Trajano, 233–251. Madrid. Canto, A.M. 2003. “La dinastía Ulpio-Aelia (98–192 d.C.): ni tan “buenos”, ni tan “adoptivos”, ni tan “Antoninos.” Gerión 21.1: 305–347.

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Canto, A.M. 2006. “Advenae, externi et longe meliores: la dinastía Ulpio-Aelia.” In M.G. Angeli Bertinelli, and A. Donati, eds., Le vie della storia: migrazioni di popoli, viaggi di individui, circolazione di idee nel Mediterraneo antico; Atti del II Incontro Internazionale di Storia Antica (Genova, 6–8 ottobre 2004), 237–267. Roma. Chic García, G. 2005. “Marco Aurelio y Cómodo, el hundimiento de un sistema económico.” Annaeus 2: 45–66. Crespo Ortiz de Zárate, S. 2007. “Emigrantes hispanorromanos de la Meseta castellanoleonesa a ciudades de Hispania y del Imperio Romano.” Hispania Antiqua 31: 163–180. Dauge, Y.A. 1981. Le Barbare. Recherches sur la conception romaine de la barbarie et de la civilisation. Bruxelles. D’Encarnaçao, J. 2006. “La Lusitaine romaine, pôle d’immigration: témoins épigraphiques.” In M.G. Angeli Bertinelli, and A. Donati, eds., Le vie della storia: migrazioni di popoli, viaggi di individui, circolazione di idee nel Mediterraneo antico; Atti del II Incontro Internazionale di Storia Antica (Genova, 6–8 ottobre 2004), 299–305. Roma. De Ruggiero, E. 1921. La patria nel diritto pubblico romano. Roma. Díaz de Cerio Erasun, M. 2017. Senadores y caballeros hispanorromanos, historia de una promoción. Pamplona. Domergue, C. – Rico, C. 2014. “Les itinéraires du commerce cu cuivreet du plomb hispaniques à l’époque romaine dans le monde méditerranéen.” In La Corse et le monde méditerranéen des origines au Moyen-âge: échanges et circuits commerciaux, Actes du colloque de Bastia (21–22 novembre 2013), 135–168. Bastia. Dondin-Payre, M. – Raepsaet-Charlier, M.T. eds. 2001. Noms, identités culturelles et romanisation sous le Haut-Empire, Bruxelles. Eck, W. (ed.) 1993. Prosopographie und Sozialgeschichte. Studien zur Methodik und Erkenntnismöglichkeit der kaiserzeitlichen Prosopographie. Colonia. García y Bellido, A. 1955. “Hispanos en el sur de Francia.” Boletín de la Real Academia de la Historia 137: 35–44. García de Castro, F.J. 1999. “Hispani qui in Gallia sunt.” Hispania antiqua 23: 179–188. García-Dils de la Vega, S.; Ordóñez Agulla, S. 2007. “Nuevos datos para el estudio del culto imperial en la Colonia Augusta Firma (Écija-Sevilla).” In T. Nogales and J. González, eds., Culto Imperial: política y poder, 277–298. Roma. García Fernández, E. 2009. “Reflexiones sobre la latinización de Hispania en época republicana.” In J. Andreu Pintado, J. Cabrero Piquero and I. Rodà De Llanza, eds., Hispaniae: las provincias hispanas en el mundo romano, 377–390. Tarragona. García Martínez, M.R. 1991. “Caracteres y significación socio-económica de los movimientos de población hispana hacia la provincias imperiales en época romana.” Hispania Antiqua 15: 263–302. García Martínez, M.R. 1996. “Evidencias epigráficas de población hispana en la Gallia de la época romana.” Memorias de historia antigua 17: 203–214.

Documenting Hispanic Immigrants in Italia, Gallia, and Britannia 353 Gómez-Pantoja, J.L. 2006. “Entre Italia e Hispania: los gladiadores”, in A. Sartori and A. Valvo, eds., Hiberia-Italia, Italia-Hiberia: Convegno Internazionale di Epigrafia e Storia Antica, Gargnano-Brescia (28–30 aprile 2005), 167–180. Milano. Gutiérrez Merino, J.C. 2001. “La presencia de hispanos en la provincia romana de Britannia a través de las fuentes epigráficas.” In L. Hernández Guerra, L. Sagredo San Eustaquio, and J.M. Solana Sáinz, eds., Actas del I Congreso Internacional de Historia Antigua. La Península Ibérica hace 2000 años. Valladolid, 23–25 de noviembre de 2000, 229–234. Valladolid. Iglesias Gil, J.M. and Ruiz Gutiérrez, A., eds. 2011. Viajes y cambios de residencia en el mundo romano. Santander. Le Roux, P. 1995. “L’emigration italique en Citérieure et Lusitanie jusqu’à la mort de Néron.” In F. Beltrán Lloris, ed., Roma y el nacimiento de la cultura epigráfica en Occidente, 85–95. Zaragoza. Madrid Balanza, M.J. – Noguera Celdrán, J.M. 2014. “Carthago Nova fases e hitos de monumentalización urbana y arquitectónica (siglos III a.C.–III d.C.).” Espacio, tiempo y forma. Serie I, Prehistoria y arqueología 7: 13–60. Marín Díaz, M.A. 1986. “La emigración itálica a Hispania en el siglo II a. C”, Studia Historica. Historia Antigua 4: 53–63. Marín Díaz, M.A. 1988. Emigración, colonización y municipalización en la Hispania republicana. Granada. Molina Vidal, J. 1999. “Vinculaciones entre Apulia y el área de influencia de ‘Carthago Nova’ en la época tardorrepublicana.” Latomus 58/3: 509–524. Moretti, L., eds. 1968–1990. Inscriptiones graecae urbis Romae. Roma. Navarro, F.J. 2006. “Senadores y caballeros hispanos de época Julio-Claudia: el nacimiento de una aristocracia.” In A. Sartori, and A. Valvo, eds., Hiberia-Italia, Italia-Hiberia: Convegno Internazionale di Epigrafia e Storia Antica, Gargnano-Brescia (28–30 aprile 2005), 133–156. Milano. Ojeda Torres, J.M. 1991. “La prosopografía como método de investigación histórica: ventajas e inconvenientes.” In I Jornadas de aproximación interdisciplinar para el estudio de la antigüedad, 54–63. Sevilla. Perea Yébenes, S. 2004–2005. “Las “patrias” del soldado romano en el Alto Imperio.” Espacio, Tiempo y Forma. Serie II: Historia Antigua 17–18: 161–189. Pina Polo, F. 2010. “Las migraciones en masa y su integración en el Imperio romano.” In F.J. Navarro, ed., Pluralidad e integración en el mundo romano, 63–77. Pamplona. Pitillas Salañer, E. 2004. “Soldados originarios del NW de Hispania que sirvieron en las cohortes pretorianas. Su testimonio epigráfico.” Hispania Antiqua 28: 141–152. Reggiani, A. 2006. “La galería laudatoria de la dinastía Ulpia Aelia en la Villa Adriana.” In D. Vaquerizo Gil and J.F. Murillo Redondo, eds., El concepto de lo provincial en el mundo antiguo: homenaje a la profesora Pilar León Alonso, vol. 2, 87–102. Córdoba. Ricci, C. 1992. “Hispani a Roma.” Gerión 10: 103–143.

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Ricci, C. 2005. “Ispanici a Roma nel II secolo. La componente militare.” In L. Hernández Guerra, ed., Actas del II Congreso Internacional de Historia Antigua: la Hispania de los Antoninos (98–180), 267–276. Valladolid. Ricci, C. 2006a. Qui non riposa: cenotafi antichi e moderni fra memoria e rappresentazione. Roma. Ricci, C. 2006b. Stranieri illustri e comunità immigrate a Roma: vox diversa populorum. Roma. Roselaar, S.T. ed. 2012. Processes of Integration and Identity Formation in the Roman Republic, Brill, Leiden-Boston. Rubio Alija, J. 1959. “Españoles por los caminos del Imperio Romano.” Cuadernos de Historia de España vol. 29–30: 5–124. Sartori, A. – Valvo, A. eds. 2011. Identità e autonomie nel mondo romano occidentale, Iberia-Italia Italia-Iberia III, Faenza. Stefanile, M. 2013a. “Roman lead ingots from shipwrecks: a key to understanding immigration from Campania, Southern Latium and Picenum in the mining district of Carthago Nova in the Late Republican and Early Imperial eras.” In C. Breen and W. FORSYTHE, eds., ACUA Underwater Archaeology Proceedings, 57–64. Stefanile, M. 2013b. “On the routes of the Iberian lead. New data and new remarks on the presence of gentes from Campania in Hispania between the II century B.C. and the I century A.D. on the basis of marked lead ingots.” In L. Bombardieri, A. D’agostino, G. Guarducci, V. Orsi and S. Valentini, eds., SOMA 2012 Identity and Connectivity: Proceedings of the 16th Symposium on Mediterranean Archaeology, vol. I, 991–1001. Oxford. Stefanile, M. 2013c. “Lead ingot cargoes from Carthago Nova to Rome. Some remarks on the presence of people from Campania in the exploitation of Iberian mines.” Skyllis 13/1: 24–31. Stefanile, M. 2015a. “Gentes procedentes de Campania en la explotación de las minas de Carthago Nova.” In J.M. López Ballesta, ed., Phicaria III Encuentros Internacionales del Mediterráneo. Minería y metalurgia en el Mediterráneo y su periferia oceánica, 170–180. Mazarrón. Stefanile, M. 2015b. “Sailing towards the west. Trade and traders between the Peninsula Iberica and the Campania between the II century B.C. and the I century A.D.” In P.M. Militello and H. Oniz eds., SOMA 2011 Proceedings of the 15th Symposium on Mediterranean Archaeology, 585–591. Oxford. Syme, R. 1982–19883. “Spaniards at Tivoli.” Ancient Society 13–14: 241–263. Todisco, E. 2006. “La comunità cittadina e “l’altro”: la percezione del forestiero a Roma tra tardarepublica e altoimpero.” In M.G. Angeli Bertinelli, and A. Donati, eds., Le vie della storia: migrazioni di popoli, viaggi di individui, circolazione di idee nel Mediterraneo antico; Atti del II Incontro Internazionale di Storia Antica (Genova, 6–8 ottobre 2004), 193–207. Roma.

Documenting Hispanic Immigrants in Italia, Gallia, and Britannia 355 Uroz Sáez, J. – Noguera Celdrán, J.M. – Coarelli, F. eds. 2008. Iberia e Italia: modelos romanos de integración territorial. Murcia. Visconti, A. 1939. “Note preliminary sull’origo’ nelle fonti imperiali romane.” Studi in onore di Carlo Calisse, vol. I, 89–105. Milano. Wilson, A.J.N. 1966. Emigration from Italy in the Republican Age of Rome. Manchester. Ambra, 2016, Il valore di una vita, Europeana EAGLE project, accessed 28 June 2016, . Europeana EAGLE project n.d., About: who we are, accessed 28 June 2016, .

Chapter 19

A New Statue Base of Septimius Severus from Lambaesis: The Army and the Emperor in Severan North Africa Riccardo Bertolazzi In the photographic archive of Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum in Berlin there are many interesting photos concerning inscriptions from the ancient Roman city of Lambaesis (Numidia). Hans-Georg Kolbe, former director of the Deutsche Archäologische Institut in Rome, collected this documentation during an epigraphic survey in Tunisia and Algeria during the spring of 1966. Many of these pictures show inscriptions that were published only as transcribed texts in the CIL and other corpora, mostly during the French colonization of North Africa. Other photos display inscriptions that are still unpublished. In recent years, several scholars including myself, Camilla Campedelli, Roberta Marchionni and Manfred G. Schimdt have published a considerable number of new monuments by examining images stored in the archive.1 In this paper I will examine an archive photograph that shows a statue base in honor of Septimius Severus, and consider the historical context in which the monument was set up along with the relationship between Severus and Lambaesis during the early reign of this emperor.2 At the time of Kolbe’s survey in 1966, this monument was preserved in the lapidary museum of Lambaesis. To the best of my knowledge, the inscription remains unpublished. The base is a polygonal block of marble on which a standing statue was originally placed. The cornice between the statue and the block is missing, as well as the plinth that sustained the whole monument. The inscription was carved between two pilasters that are almost completely preserved. The text is organized in 15 lines, with two or three further lines, now illegible, which were intentionally erased at the bottom. The surviving lines are bundled together 1 Bertolazzi 2013; 2014; 2015; Campedelli 2015a–b; Marchionni 2007; Schimdt 2009a–b. 2 I would like to thank Manfred G. Schmidt, former Arbeitsstellenleiter of the Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum at the Berlin-Brandenburgische Akademie der Wissenschaften, for the permission to study the materials kept in the archive. I shall also thank Christopher Blunda for having helped me to improve the English of this paper.

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with very little space between one another, and slightly leaning towards either the right or the left side. Both the formation of the lettering and the organization of the text are nevertheless quite accurate, as demonstrated by the regular shape of the incisions, the use of litterae longae, the frequent punctuation, the elegant ligatures and a hedera distinguens (line 1). I suggest the following reading: Imp(eratori) Caes(ari) Divi Marci Antonini Ger= mân̂ ic(i) Sarm̂ atici filio, Divi Commodi fra= tr̂i, Divi Piì Anton̂ ini nep(oti), Divi Hadriâni pronep(oti), Divi Tra= ian̂ i Parthic(i) abn̂ ep(oti), Di(vi) Nervae adnepoti, L(ucio) Septimio Severo Pio Pertîn̂ aci, Arab(ico) Adiabe(nico) Parthic(o), pon̂ t(ifici) m̂ ax(imo), trib(unicia) potest(ate) VI, ìmp(eratori) XI, co(n)s(uli) II, pater (!) patri= ae, proco(n)s(uli) simul= [[[acrum - - -]]] [[[- - - - - -]]] [[[- - - - - -?]]].

5

10

15

To the Emperor Caesar, son of the divine Marcus Antoninus Germanicus Sarmaticus, brother of the divine Commodus, grandson of the divine Pius Antoninus, great-grandson of the divine Hadrian, great-great-grandson of the divine Trajan Parthicus, great-great-great-grandson of the divine Nerva, Lucius Septimius Severus Pius Pertinax, Arabicus Adiabenicus Parthicus, being chief priest, holding tribunician power for the sixth time, acclaimed victor eleven times, consul twice, father of the country, proconsul … The inscription records the full (fictitious) ancestry that starting from the late summer of 195 CE characterized the majority of inscriptions set up to honor Severus, i.e. after he adopted himself as a member of the family of Marcus Aurelius and bestowed the new name M. Aurelius Antoninus on his older

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Figure 19.1

Bertolazzi

Lambaesis, statue base with dedicatory inscription to Septimius Severus. Photo credit: BBAW

son Caracalla.3 The sixth tribunicia potestas, however, refers to the year between December 10th, 197 and December 9th, 198.4 This dating agrees with the other titles reported in the text. The second consulship dates back to 194,5 while the 11th imperial acclamation follows the capture of Ctesiphon during Severus’ second Parthian campaign, which stretched from the second half of 197 to the beginning of 198.6 The Feriale Duranum celebrates the conquest of 3 Self-adoption: Dio 76 (75).9.4. Cf. Birley 1999: 117–118, 122, 127, 136. In a letter of to the city of Aezani written before December 10th, 195 (CIG 3.3837–3838 = IGR 4.566 = ILS 8805), Severus calls Caracalla M. Aurelius Antoninus. On the topic, cf. Letta 1991: 656–657; 2010: 296–302. 4 Kienast—Eck—Heil 2017: 150. 5 Kienast—Eck—Heil 2017: 150. 6 Capture of Ctesiphon: Dio 76 (75).9.3–5; Hdn. 3.9.9–11. Cf. Birely 1999: 129–130.

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the Parthian capital on January 28th.7 Thus, the statue base was likely erected between February 198 and the end of that same year. It is interesting to note that the legion III Augusta, which had been stationed in North Africa since the time of Augustus, participated in this expedition with some detachments.8 It is therefore possible that the statue was placed to celebrate Severus’ recent success in Mesopotamia. The reconstruction of the last erased lines involves a series of questions that deserve a detailed discussion. The text abruptly ends in line 15 with the letters SIMVL. These, in the reading I have proposed, are the first part of the word simulacrum, which before the erasure should have occupied the end of line 15 and the beginning of line 16. I have excluded the possibility of interpreting SIMVL as a word in itself, i.e. the adverb simul, and have also left out reconstructions such as simul cum followed by the name of another member of the imperial family. To my knowledge, there are no documented inscriptions where this word is used after a series of imperial titles, and the base seems to be too narrow to host more than one statue. The presence of other members of the imperial family such as Caracalla, Geta, Julia Domna and Fulvia Plautilla in the same inscription is consequently improbable. Therefore I suggest that the erased lines included the name of the dedicator. The word simulacrum followed by the name of the person who dedicated a statue for either an emperor or a member of the imperial family is a very uncommon formula in Roman epigraphy. Simulacrum is almost always used for statues of deities, while statua is normally preferred for statues of emperors or other distinguished personalities.9 Late antique inscriptions, however, attest to a sporadic use of the word simulacrum with reference to statues of emperors. This is the case, for example, of the inscriptions that commemorate

7 Feriale Duranum 1.14–16. For the complete text, cf. Fink—Hoey—Snyder 1940: 1–221; Fink 1971: 423–429 no. 117; Bruckner—Marichal 1975: 2–9 no. 309. The date is quite symbolic, as it coincides with the 100th dies imperii of Trajan and the 80th anniversary of his conquest of Ctesiphon. Cf. Guey 1948. 8 AE 1895.204. The inscription mentions a military collegium that was created after its members had returned from the expeditio felicissima Mesopotamica. On the campaign against the Parthians, cf. Birely 1999: 129–135. 9 In Numidia, the word statua is quite often used to refer to statues of emperors or other personalities, see e.g. CIL 8.7063 = ILAlg 2.1.649 (Porcia Maxima Optata, clarissima puella); AE 1950.58 (Hadrian); ILAlg 2.3.7936 = AE 1916.34 (L. Cosinius Primus, IIvir); ILAlg 2.3.7782 (Antoninus Pius); AE 1933.67 (Septimius Severus). As for simulacrum, see e.g. CIL 8.6965 = ILAlg 2.1.531 (simulacrum aereum of Venus); CIL 8.8309 = 20135 = ILAlg 2.3.7751 (simulacrum acrolithum of Tellus Genetrix); ILAlg 2.1.2000 = AE 1905.108 (simulacrum of Victoria); ILAlg 2.2.4636 = AE 1906.97 = AE 1907.9 (simulacrum of Hercules Invictus). On the difference between simulacrum and statua, see in general Stewart 2003: 20–28 with further bibliography.

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the restoration of the walls of Rome during the years 401–402 CE. On this occasion the city set up several simulacra to honor the emperors Arcadius and Honorius.10 Another fragmentary inscription from Puteoli, in Campania, mentions a simulacru[m] sanctissim(orum) pri[ncipum], a phrase that could refer to a sculpture group.11 Although the identity of these principes is impossible to ascertain owing to the fragmentary condition of the monument, the expressions sanctissimorum principum and imperatorum nostrorum may suggest a date of the third or fourth century CE. The use of the word simulacrum with respect to statues of imperial personalities also appears in literary works that were composed in late antiquity. Such a case is presented in the Vita Severi in the fourth or fifth century Historia Augusta and is particularly noteworthy. While writing the biography, the anonymous author made abundant use of a previous account from the first quarter of the third century, which scholars traditionally identify with the lost biographies composed by Severus’ general Marius Maximus.12 It is therefore possible that some terminology from that period permeated this section of the Historia Augusta. In a passage concerning Fulvius Plautianus’ attempt to place a statue of himself among those of Severus’ relatives, the anonymous author says that inter propinquorum et adfinium Severi simulacra suam statuam ille posuisset.13 Moreover, the Vita reports that Severus wanted to create a new entrance to the Palatine mansion, nisi absente eo per praefectum urbis medium simulacrum eius esset locatum.14 In brief, although the word simulacrum sounds quite uncommon in an inscription commemorating the setting up of a statue for an early-third-century emperor, a phrase such as simulacrum ponere or constituere could be justified in view of the use of these expressions in both literature and inscriptions from the late third and fourth centuries CE. Reconstruction of the identity of the dedicator is quite problematic. The most probable one could be, at first glance, a person of senatorial rank who commanded the legion III Augusta, fell into disgrace, and incurred the damnatio memoriae. During 198, the year in which the statue was dedicated, the legate of the III Augusta was Quintus Anicius Faustus.15 He is well known in 10 11 12 13 14 15

CIL 6.1188 = 1189 = 1190 = 31257. CIL 10.1718. On the topic, which is very ample and debated, cf. Chastagnol 1994: lii–lix; Birely 1997; 2006: 21–23; Kemezis 2012: 405–413 with further references. Sev. 14.5 (“[Plautianus] had set up his own statue among the statues of Severus’ kinsmen and connections” [transl. by David Magie]). Sev. 24.4 (“had not the prefect of the city planted his statue in the center of it while he was away” [transl. by David Magie]). On Anicius Faustus (PIR2 A 595), cf. also Thomasson 1996: 170–176.

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Lambaesis throughout many inscriptions, which from 197 to 201 commemorate dedications of new buildings and other monuments erected under his supervision.16 There are no inscriptions where his name appears to have been erased. There is also no evidence that the contemporary governor of Africa Proconsularis, Lucius Cossonius Eggius Marullus, who administered this province from 198 to 199, ever incurred the damnatio memoriae.17 Furthermore, in Lambaesis I have not found names of local personalities who incurred such punishment. In this city, however, monuments to Severus and his family were dedicated not only by single individuals, but also by military units. During the same year, for example, an auxiliary unit of the III Augusta, the Cohors VI Commagenorum, dedicated a statue to the divine Commodus, who is called frater of the emperor on account of Severus’ self-adoption as an Antonine.18 At the same time the cavalrymen of the III Augusta set up a dedication to Severus, Caracalla, Geta and Julia Domna.19 This inscription was carved on an architrave of considerable dimensions that would have originally been placed above the entrance of one of the barracks in the military camp of Lambaesis. In the last line, where the eq(uites) legionis III Augustae P(iae) V(indicis) are mentioned, the words legionis III have been erased. This is a consequence of the disbandment of the legion in 238 or shortly after, presumably by order of Gordian III, who in this way punished this unit for having crushed the revolt of his grandfather and his uncle against Maximinus Thrax.20 Consequently, the name of the III Augusta appears to have been frequently removed from inscribed monuments from Lambaesis, and in some cases later added again as a result of the re-constitution of the legion by Valerian in 252.21 The III Augusta, in my view, is the most likely candidate to supply the last lines of the statue base to Severus. Although other similar statue bases set up by the legion to honor this emperor are not thus far documented, it is worth noting that the III Augusta had already erected a statue to Hadrian after he had inspected the camp in 128.22 As for other military units, the Cohors I Chalcidenorum Equitata set up another statue to this emperor in the Numidian fort of Gemellae during the same year, specifying that the regiment had sustained the costs for the

16 17 18 19 20 21 22

Cf. Le Bohec 1989: 398–401. On Eggius Marullus (PIR 2 E 10), cf. also Thomasson 1996: 78. CIL 8.18248 = AE 1987, 1060 = AE 1992, 1865. CIL 8.2550 = 18045. Le Bohec 1989: 451–453; 2000: 377. Le Bohec 1989: 463–464; 2000: 377. AE 1900.33 = AE 1942/43.90 = AE 1942/43.112 = AE 2003.2020a = AE 2006.1800a.

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erection of the monument.23 Moreover, a slab from the Numidian camp of Calceus Herculis attests to another dedication to Hadrian by the III Augusta ten years later.24 It is possible that this plaque was originally placed on a statue base. The custom of dedicating statues to reigning emperors continued during the second century. The Cohors I Chalcidenorum set up other statues to honor Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus in 164.25 In short, analysis of the imperial statues that Numidian military units erected prior to the reign of Severus demonstrates that the placement of a statue in honor of this emperor by the III Augusta does not seem to be an unusual case. After the acclamation of Severus in 193, the legion had been awarded the titles Pia and Vindex on account of the loyalty that the unit had maintained during the civil wars.26 Furthermore, the year 198 represents an important date in the reign of this emperor. As mentioned above, Severus’ second Parthian campaign—in which detachments of the III Augusta had taken part— culminated with the capture of the Parthian capital Ctesiphon on January 28th. On this occasion Severus was acclaimed imperator for the eleventh time, the title of Augustus was bestowed on Caracalla and that of Caesar on Geta, a series of moves that completed the establishment the Severan dynasty. All these events could justify the placement of a statue to Severus, and, perhaps, to Caracalla, Geta and Julia Domna as well. In light of these considerations, I would supplement the erased lines with an expression similar to the following: (…) simul= [[[acrum leg(io) III Aug(usta)]]] [[[P(ia) V(index), numini eius]]] [[[devotissima, constituit]]].

15

(…) the legion III Augusta Pia Vindex, greatly devoted to his divine spirit, set up this statue. Each reconstructed line includes between 12 and 20 letters, which is approximately the same quantity of letters for each line that has survived. Formulas such as numini eius devotissima or devota numini maiestatique eius appear for the first time under the Severans,27 and in Lambaesis are attested on other 23 24 25 26 27

AE 1950.58. CIL 8.2501. CIL 8.10658 = 17588; 17587. Le Bohec 1989: 392; 2000: 376. Chastagnol 1988: 35–36. Cf. also Eck 2007: 455–457. Interestingly, an inscription from Hispania Tarraconensis dating to 197 (AE 1967.237), which the Ala II Flavia Hispanorum

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inscriptions with dedications to Elagabalus, Julia Soaemias and Severus Alexander.28 They are also well documented on several statue bases that, during the first half of the third century, other legions set up to honor imperial personalities such as Julia Mamaea and Gordian III.29 If my proposed reconstruction is correct, it is worth noting that this would be, so far, the only known statue set up by a legion to honor Septimius Severus.30 During 198 several other types of dedications to Severus and the imperial family were made in Lambaesis. The name of the legate Q. Anicius Faustus is documented in all of them as the dedicator of each monument, but the commissioners were almost always soldiers, sub-units of the legion, or military collegia. The abovementioned architrave placed by the cavalrymen of the III Augusta and the statue for the divine Commodus erected by the Cohors VI Commagenorum Equitata were dedicated in 198.31 During the same year, a signifer of the legion paid three thousand sesterces out of his pocket for the erection of a statue to the Genius of the III Augusta, along with a dedication for the safety of the imperial family.32 Furthermore, the presence of Anicius Faustus in the role of dedicator makes it possible to date other texts to the period 197–201. His name is documented on another architrave with the names of the imperial family from the area of the baths.33 This dedication could perhaps provide a clue as to the date of another text involving the III Augusta. According to this inscription, at a certain point during the reign of Severus the baths were restored by the legion, which set up a further inscription to the emperor, Caracalla, Geta, and Julia Domna calling the building balineum eorum.34 Moreover, during 198–200 the development of new associations including officers, privates, and personnel belonging to the logistic and administrative units of the legions is abundantly documented in Lambaesis. At least six stelae recording the creation of collegia represent the most conspicuous

28 29 30 31 32 33 34

Civium Romanorum dedicated to Severus, represents the earliest documented use of numini eius devotissima. CIL 8.2564 = 18052 = AE 1978.889 (Elagabalus and Julia Soaemias); AE 1920.13 (Severus Alexander). AE 2006.104 (Julia Mamaea); CIL 3.3520; 8154 (Gordian III). According to Højte 2005: 182–184, only a small percentage (1.7%) of the statues erected between the reign Augustus and that of Commodus were dedicated by military units. As for the legions, Højte has counted only six monuments. Cf. notes 18–19 above. CIL 8.2527 = 18039. CIL 8.2549. CIL 8.2706.

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group of military inscriptions documented in this period.35 The establishment of such a sudden number of new associations can probably be connected to Severus’ decision to award a bonus to the soldiers who had participated in his Mesopotamian campaign. Inasmuch as the aim of the military collegia was mainly to provide severance fund of sorts for their members, the reasons for their constitution in Lambaesis are, at least in one case, the double stipends (dupli stipendi) deposited in the treasury coffer (arca) by those who had campaigned against the Parthians.36 As in the case of the previously mentioned inscriptions recording public works, all the texts recording the new collegia start with a joint dedication to Severus, Caracalla, Geta and Julia Domna. This fact is a further indication of the importance that legionaries attributed to the honors paid to the imperial house. The Historia Augusta makes a clear reference to the relevance that Severus ascribed to the African provinces during his first years of reign. According to the anonymous author, Severus feared that the troops of Pescennius Niger could invade Africa Proconsularis, thus cutting the food supply to Rome.37 Furthermore, supporters of the other pretender to the throne, Clodius Albinus, were particularly numerous in this area. After Severus defeated him, a special procurator with the task of confiscating the properties of Severus’ enemies (ad bona cogenda) was sent to Africa.38 Interestingly, inscriptions placed in Lambaesis during the years of the civil wars between Severus and the other pretenders (193–197) already attest to the considerable importance that Severus attributed to Lambaesis and the III Augusta. A text dated to 194, for example, relates that the legion was employed to re-build and decorate the amphitheater.39 The name of Severus in the nominative case and the verbs refecit exornavitque indicate that the emperor himself ordered the realization

35 36 37

38 39

CIL VIII 2551 = 18046; 2552 = 18070; 2558 = AE 1920.12 = AE 1967.568; 2553 = 18047 = AE 1906.9; AE 1902.10. AE 1895.204. On the topic, cf. Le Bohec 1989: 394–395. Sev. 8.7: Ad Africam tamen legiones misit, ne per Libyam atque Aegyptum Niger Africam occuparet ac populo Romano penuria rei frumentariae perurgueret (“However, [Severus] sent legions to Africa, for fear that Niger might advance through Libya and Egypt and seize this province, and thereby distress the Roman people with a scarcity of grain” [transl. by David Magie]). As for the legions sent by Severus, scholars are more inclined to believe that the emperor sent some Danubian detachments to North Africa. At the same time the III Augusta was probably ordered to send contingents to defend Tripolitania and Cyrenaica. Cf. Speidel 1985: 325; Birley 1999: 107. CIL III 6575 = 7127. Cf. Letta 1991: 661–662; Birley 1999: 126. AE 1955.137.

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of these works, which were supervised by the legate Julius Lepidus Tertullus.40 During the same period, Tertullus used legionary manpower to start the construction of a temple to Dea Caelestis. These works were later interrupted, possibly by decision of the following legate, Anicius Faustus, but eventually completed between 202 and 205 under the command of Claudius Gallus, who dedicated the temple to the safety of the imperial house.41 Although the initiative to build this temple was taken by the legates, it is possible that this was a consequence of Severus’ efforts to maintain the loyalty of the African provinces. It is interesting to note that during the years 194–195 coins reporting the legend AFRICA on the reverse were minted for Severus.42 Between 203 and 204, Dea Caelestis appeared on coins celebrating Severus and Caracalla’s indulgentia in Carthaginem, the city where this goddess enjoyed particular reverence.43 Already in 193–194, however, legends displaying Venus, a goddess who was occasionally venerated with the epithet of Caelestis, were appearing on the coins of Julia Domna.44 The construction of a temple to Venus Caelestis, a divinity particularly close to the imperial household, could therefore assume a certain propagandistic significance. Finally, it is important to note that already in the first years of his reign Severus had probably started to make plans for military operations aimed at strengthening the North African border. In 198, Q. Anicius Faustus garrisoned the Ala I Pannoniorum and vexillationes from the III Augusta and the III Gallica in Castellum Dimmidi, an advanced desert 40

41 42 43

44

The relationship between Severus’ building programs in the provinces and consolidation of the support to his regime has been underlined by Wilson 2007: 291. The original structure of Lambaesis’ amphitheater had been probably built during the reign of Hadrian, but Marcus Aurelius doubled its size. Later, Marcus Aurelius and Commodus had to rebuild a part of the structure from its foundations, as it was already showing signs of consumption. For an overview of the question, cf. Hugoniot 2009: 224–225. AE 1957.123 = AE 2010.1834. RIC IV.1 Septimius Severus 668, 676. RIC IV.1 Septimius Severus 193, 266–267b, 759–760, 763, 766; Caracalla 130–131, 415 (a–d), 418a, 471; Julia Domna 594. The display of indulgentia towards Carthage might be connected Severus and Caracalla’s grant of the ius Italicum to this city, a circumstance recorded by the jurist Paul (Dig. 50.15.8.11). Cf. Lichtenberger 2011: 105; Rowan 2012: 78–81 with further references. For an overview of the Severan coinage celebrating Africa, cf. Babelon 1903; Méthy 1992. RIC IV.1 Julia Domna 535–536, 842 (Venus Victrix); 537 (Venus Genetrix). On the topic, cf. Lusnia 1995: 122; Filippini 2008: 9–12; 2010: 84–85. A hybrid denarius reproducing the bust of Domna on the obverse and Venus Caelestis riding on a lion on the reverse (RIC IV.1 Julia Domna 594) has been occasionally taken as evidence to suggest that the imperial propaganda advertised the equation between the Augusta and the goddess. Recent scholarship, however, has been unwilling to accept this interpretation. On the topic, see Lichtenberger 2011: 106–107.

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outpost located ca. 300 kilometers southwest from Lambaesis.45 This movement of troops, which included contingents from other provinces (the III Gallica was stationed in Syria), was probably the prelude to operations of wider scope. The campaign eventually took place between the end of 202 and the first half of 203, some months after the return of the imperial court from Syria in the spring of 202.46 The participation of both Severus and Caracalla in the African expedition indicates the significance that the emperors attributed to these operations in which the III Augusta evidently played an important role. In conclusion, this statue base to Septimius Severus examined here represents a new testimony to the dense network of relationships between the imperial household and the African provinces. If the reconstruction of the erased lines that I have proposed is correct, this monument would attest to the first imperial statue that the III Augusta put in place since the reign of Hadrian. Unlike this emperor, there is no proof that Severus was visiting the camp of the III Augusta when the monument was set up. This unit nevertheless awarded Severus a statue that is so far the sole attestation of such a monument erected by a whole legion to honor this emperor. This singular act of devotion is not coincidental. On the contrary, it is the result of the exceptional care with which, starting from his first years of rule, this emperor cultivated support among the troops stationed in Lambaesis. The documentation concerning Severus’ 45 46

CIL 8.8796 = 18021, 8797b; AE 1939.213; AE 1948.214. Cf. Picard 1947: 45–81; Le Bohec 1989: 392–393. A passage from Philostratus’ Lives of the Sophists (2.20.2 [= # 601]) attests to the presence of Severus in North Africa at some point during his reign. The Historia Augusta (Sev. 18.3) and Aurelius Victor (Caes. 20.19) mention Severus campaigning in the region of Tripoli. The exact dating of the trip, however, is still a matter of dispute. Scholars are generally in favor of a date around 203 (Grosso 1968: 40–43; Halfmann 1986: 222; Letta 1991: 668–669; Birley 1999: 146–154; Daguet-Gagey 2000: 368; Potter 2004: 116–117; Guédon 2006: 715–718; Spielvogel 2006: 140–150; Frakes 2007: 54–55; Lichtenberger 2011: 105; Sears 2013: 202; Southern 2015: 55), while others prefer a later chronology around 207 (Bonello Lai 1981: 28–31; Kotula 1985: 151–165; Rowan 2012: 77–84). In my opinion, the early dating is preferable. As observed by Grosso and Letta, on June 10th, 203, the equites singulares set up a dedication in Rome ob reditum ab expeditione felicissima (Speidel 1994: 83–84 no. 58). This implies that on those days the emperors had returned to Rome. It seems improbable that the reference is to the return from the Parthian campaign, for the imperial court was already in Rome when Severus’ decennalia were celebrated on April 9th, 202 (cf. Letta 1991: 668–669; Birley 1999: 140). These considerations well harmonize with the dating of a group of aurei reporting the legend FORTVNA REDVX which were minted for Severus in 203 (RIC IV.1 Septimius Severus 187–188). Finally, in Leptis Magna, a centurion from an unspecified legion put up an inscription pro victoria et reditu of the emperors and Plautianus on April 11th (Inscriptions of Roman Tripolitania 292 = AE 1953.189 = AE 1968.8), thus alluding to the fact that military operations were still underway.

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attention to this matter is quite abundant: building projects, such as the restoration of the amphitheater, bestowal of donatives for those who had participated in the Parthian campaign of 197–198, and an imperial visit between 202 and 203. Finally, it is worth noting that the monument analyzed here was set up in 198, a year full of significance. This not only marks the end of Severus’ Parthian campaigns, but also the definitive establishment of the Severan dynasty with Caracalla’s promotion to the rank of Augustus and the bestowal of the title of Caesar upon Geta. Bibliography Bertolazzi, R. 2013. “From the CIL Archives: A New Statue Base of Julia Domna from Mustis (Tunisia).” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 184: 304–308. Bertolazzi, R. 2014. “From the CIL Archives (II): A New Statue Base from Lambaesis (Algeria).” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 188: 284–286. Bertolazzi, R. 2015. “A New Military Inscription from Numidia, Moesiaci Milites at Lambaesis, and Some Observations on the Phrase Desideratus in Acie.” In W. Heckel, S. Müller, and G. Wrightson (eds.), The Many Faces of War in the Ancient World: 302– 314. Newcastle upon Tyne. Babelon, E. 1903. “Les monnaies de Septime Sévère, de Caracalla et de Géta relatives à l’Afrique.” Rivista italiana di numismatica e scienze affini 16: 157–174. Birely, A.R. 1997. “Marius Maximus: The Consular Biographer.” ANRW 2.34.3: 2678–2757. Birely, A.R. 1999. The African Emperor: Septimius Severus. London (3rd ed.). Birely, A.R. 2006. “Rewriting Second- and Third- Century History in Late Antique Rome: the Historia Augusta.” Classica. Revista Brasileira de Estudos Clássicos 19: 19–29. Bonello Lai, M. 1981. “I viaggi di Giulia Domna sulla base della documentazione epigrafica.” Annali della Facoltà di Lettere e Filosofia dell’Università di Cagliari N.S. 39: 13–45. Bruckner, A. and R. Marichal 1975. Chartae Latinae Antiquiores, vol. 6. Zürich. Campedelli, C. 2015a. “Due ‘Bauinschriften’ inedite da Thamugadi.” Epigraphica 77 (1–2): 501–505. Campedelli, C. 2015b. “La strana vicenda di una statua di Iuppiter Optimus Maximus a Mustis (Tunisia).” In P. Ruggeri (ed.), L’Africa Romana. Momenti di continuità e rottura: bilancio di trent’anni di convegni L’Africa Romana: 1375–1380. Roma. Chastagnol, A. 1988. “Le formulaire de l’épigraphie latine officielle dans l’Antiquité tardive.” In A. Donati (ed.), La terza età dell’epigrafia. Colloquio AIEGL-Borghesi 86: 11–64. Faenza. Chastagnol, A. 1994. Histoire Auguste: les empereurs romains des IIe et IIIe siècles. Paris.

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Daguet-Gagey, A. 2000. Septime Sévère: Rome, l’Afrique et l’Orient. Paris. Eck, W. 2007. “Die Inschrift: Fragment einer Kultur.” In M. Mayer i Olívé, G. Baratta, and A. Guzmán Almagro (eds.), XII Congressus Internationalis Epigraphiae Graecae et Latinae: Provinciae Imperii Romani Inscriptionibus Descriptae: 449–460. Barcelona. Filippini, E. 2008. “Il ruolo di Giulia Domna nell’ideologia imperiale. La documentazione numismatica.” Società Donne & Storia 4: 1–69. Filippini, E. 2010. “« Imagines aureae »: le emissioni in oro di Giulia Domna.” In A.L. Morelli and I. Baldini Lippolis (eds.), Oreficeria in Emilia Romagna: archeologia e storia tra età romana e medioevo: 79–96. Bologna. Fink, R.O. 1971. Roman Military Records on Papyrus. Cleveland. Fink, R.O., A.S. Hoey and W.F. Snyder 1940. “The Feriale Duranum.” Yale Classical Studies 7: 1–221. Frakes, J.F.D. 2007. “Monuments of Passage: Roman North Africa and an Emperor on the Move.” Arris—The Journal of the Southeast Chapter of the Society of Architectural Historians 18: 53–69. Grosso, F. 1968. “Ricerche su Plauziano e gli avvenimenti del suo tempo.” Atti della Accademia Nazionale dei Lincei, Classe di Scienze Morali, Storiche e Filologiche. Rendiconti. 23: 7–58. Guédon, S. 2006. “Les voyages des empereurs romains en Afrique jusqu’au IIIe siècle.” L’Africa romana 16.2: 689–720. Guey, J. 1948. “28 janvier 98–28 janvier 198, ou le siècle des Antonins.” Revue des études anciennes 50: 60–70. Halfmann, H. 1986. Itinera Principum. Geschichte und Typologie der Kaiserreisen im Römischen Reich. Stuttgart. Højte, J.M. 2005. Roman Imperial Statue Bases from Augustus to Commodus. Aarhus. Hugoniot, C. 2009. “Les amphithéâtres militaires en Numidie.” In A. Groslambert (ed.), Urbanisme et urbanisation en Numidie Militaire: 216–238. Paris. Kemezis, A.M. 2012. “Commemoration of the Antonine Aristocracy in Cassius Dio and the « Historia Augusta ».” Classical Quarterly 62.1: 387–314. Kienast, D., W. Eck and M. Heil. 2017. Römische Kaisertabelle. Grundzüge einer römischen Kaiserchronologie. Darmstadt (6th ed.). Kotula, T. 1985. “Septime-Severe, a-t-il visité l’Afrique en tant qu’empereur?” Eos 73: 151–165. Le Bohec, Y. 1989. La troisième légion Auguste. Paris. Le Bohec, Y. 2000. “Legio III Augusta.” In Y. Le Bohec (ed.), Les légions de Rome sous le Haut-Empire: actes du congrès de Lyon: 373–381. Paris. Letta, C. 1991. “La dinastia dei Severi.” In Storia di Roma, vol. 2 part 2: 639–700. Torino. Letta, C. 2010 “Eventi dinastici e risposta delle città nella lettera di Settimio Severo alla città di Aezani.” Studi Classici e Orientali 56: 291–306.

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Lichtenberger, A. 2011. Severus Pius Augustus: Studien zur sakralen Repräsentation und Rezeption der Herrschaft des Septimius Severus und seiner Familie (193–211 n. Chr.). Leiden. Lusnia, S.S. 1995. “Julia Domna’s Coinage and Severan Dynastic Propaganda.” Latomus 54.1: 119–140. Marchionni, R. 2007. “Eine neue Inschrift des D. Fonteius Frontinianus aus Diana Veteranorum.” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 162: 290–292. Méthy, N. 1992. “La représentation des provinces dans le monnayage romain de l’époque impériale (70–235 après J.C.).” Numismatica e antichità classiche: quaderni ticinesi 21: 267–295. Potter, D.S. 2004. The Roman Empire at Bay. AD 180–395. London. Picard G.C. 1947. Castellum Dimmidi. Alger—Paris. Rowan, C. 2012. Under Divine Auspices: Divine Ideology and the Visualisation of Imperial Power in the Severan Period. Cambridge—New York. Schmidt, M.G. 2009a. “Cn. Pinarius Caecilius Simplex, proconsul provinciae Africae.” In Homenaje al doctor Armin U. Stylow, Anejos de Archivo Español de Arqueología 48: 351–354. Schmidt, M.G. 2009b. “‘Walking in Mustis’. Monumentale Versinschriften einer afrikanischen Stadt im urbanen Kontext.” In C. Fernández Martínez, X. Gómez Font, and J. Gómez Pallarès (eds.), Literatura epigráfica. Estudios dedicados a Gabriel Sanders: 309–321. Saragossa. Sears, G. 2013. “A New Era? Severan Inscriptions in Africa.” In G. Sears, P. Keegan, and R. Lawrence (eds.), Written Space in the Latin West: 201–216. London—New Delhi— New York—Sydney. Southern, P. 2015. The Roman Empire from Severus to Constantine. London—New York (2nd ed.). Speidel, M.P. 1985. “Valerius Valerianus in charge of Septimius Severus’ Mesopotamian campaign.” Classical Philology 80: 321–326. Speidel, M.P. 1994. Die Denkmäler der Kaiserreiter = Equites singulares Augusti. Köln. Spielvogel, J. 2006. Septimius Severus. Darmstadt. Stewart, P. 2003. Statues in Roman Society: Representation and Response. Oxford—New York. Thomasson, B.E. 1996. Fasti Africani: senatorische und ritterliche Amsträger in den römischen Provinzen Nordafrikas von Augustus bis Diokletian. Sävedalen. Wilson, A. 2007. “Urban Development in the Severan Empire.” In S.C.R. Swain, S.J. Harrison, and J. Elsner (eds.), Severan Culture: 290–326. Cambridge—New York.

PART 3 The Roman East

⸪

Chapter 20

Encrypted Inscriptions: A Paradoxical Practice Patricia A. Rosenmeyer 1

Introduction

In Egyptian Thebes, two colossal statues, originally built to guard the funeral complex of Amenhotep III (ca. 1400 BCE), keep their vigil, while the rest of the complex has fallen into ruin around them. Shortly after an earthquake in 26 BCE toppled its head and upper torso, the northern statue began emitting a high-pitched noise every day at dawn. This odd phenomenon was interpreted as the cry of Memnon, the Trojan ally killed by Achilles, calling out to his mother, Eos, the goddess of dawn. Our modern understanding of the noise is that the rising sun’s warmth caused the cracked stones in the damaged statue to expand, thus producing the mysterious sound. But the statue’s identification with the mythical Memnon clearly resonated in antiquity. During the first two centuries CE, visitors thronged to Thebes to experience the “speaking” statue: tourists on sacred pilgrimage, soldiers stationed in the Thebaid, Roman emperors on tour. Many left behind epigraphic evidence of their visit: the northern statue’s feet and legs were eventually completely covered in inscriptions, dating from ca. 24 BCE to ca. 205 CE.1 When the statue fell silent again after two centuries, presumably because of attempts to repair the earthquake damage, the inscriptions also ceased, and the statue faded back into its ruined Egyptian landscape.2 The inscriptions on the colossus were transcribed and published in 1960 by the French brothers André and Étienne Bernand, in their collection, Les Inscriptions grecques et latines du colosse de Memnon. One hundred seven inscriptions remain legible in situ, in Greek and Latin, prose and verse. Some give just a name and time – “so-and-so heard Memnon at the first hour;” others offer longer listings of name, family members, date of visitation; and yet others take the shape of longer elegiac poems by both amateur and professional poets. All fit the definition of proskynemata formulated by Burstein as, “epigraphical 1 I accept the dating of the earliest and latest inscriptions given in I.Col.Memnon. 2 Note that Bowersock (1984: 21–32) argues against the customary attribution of the repairs to Septimius Severus, instead identifying Queen Zenobia of Palmyra as responsible for the repairs and inadvertent silencing of Memnon.

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substitutes for a worshipper that would enable him or her to perpetually benefit from the holiness of a particular place.”3 The purpose of this essay is to investigate two particular proskynemata (I.Col.Memnon 97 and 102) that stand out because they are written in code. The act of encrypting flies directly in the face of the logic of inscriptional praxis: one leaves an inscription or textual graffito in order to make one’s name known to passers-by, as other texts at the Memnon site attest. Dedicatory inscriptions demand personal names for their efficacy, both at the moment of inscription and for later visitors’ re-readings. Why would someone commemorate his visit with an act of public worship, yet encrypt part of his message, in this case using anagrams and a code of numeric-alphabetic value? Bringing in evidence of coded proskynemata from other sacred sites in Egypt—Philae, Kalabsha, Medinet Madi-, I suggest some possible answers. 2

The Site and the Sounds

I begin with some general background on the site. We are fortunate to have a number of ancient sources (other than the inscriptions themselves) that describe the colossus. The earliest known visitor to record his impressions was Strabo (17.1.46), traveling in the company of Marcus Aelius Gallus, Roman prefect of Egypt (26–24 BCE):4 ἐνταῦθα δὲ δυεῖν κολοσσῶν ὄντων µονολίθων ἀλλήλων πλησίον, ὁ µὲν σώζεται, τοῦ δ’ ἑτέρου τὰ ἄνω µέρη τὰ ἀπὸ τῆς καθέδρας πέπτωκε σεισµοῦ γενηθέντος, ὥς φασι. πεπίστευται δ’, ὅτι ἅπαξ καθ’ ἡµέραν ἑκάστην ψόφος, ὡς ἂν πληγῆς οὐ µεγάλης, ἀποτελεῖται ἀπὸ τοῦ µένοντος ἐν τῷ θρόνῳ καὶ τῇ βάσει µέρους· κἀγὼ δὲ παρὼν ἐπὶ τῶν τόπων µετὰ Γάλλου Αἰλίου καὶ τοῦ πλήθους τῶν συνόντων αὐτῷ φίλων τε καὶ στρατιωτῶν περὶ ὥραν πρώτην ἤκουσα τοῦ ψόφου, εἴτε δὲ ἀπὸ τῆς βάσεως εἴτε ἀπὸ τοῦ κολοσσοῦ εἴτ’ ἐπίτηδες τῶν κύκλῳ καὶ περὶ τὴν βάσιν ἱδρυµένων τινὸς ποιήσαντος τὸν ψόφον, οὐκ ἔχω διισχυρίσασθαι. διὰ γὰρ τὸ ἄδηλον τῆς αἰτίας πᾶν µᾶλλον ἐπέρχεται πιστεύειν ἢ τὸ ἐκ τῶν λίθων οὕτω τεταγµένων ἐκπέµπεσθαι τὸν ἦχον. Here are two colossi, which stand near one another and are each constructed of a single stone; one of them is fully preserved, but the upper parts of the other, from the waist up, fell during an earthquake, so it is 3 Burstein 1998: 47. 4 Text from the 1877 Teubner edition via Perseus.

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said. It is believed that once a day a noise, as of a slight blow, emanates from the part of the latter statue that remains on the seat and its base; and I too, when I was present at the spot with Aelius Gallus and his crowd of acquaintances, both friends and soldiers, heard the noise at about the first hour. But I am unable to determine whether the noise came from the base or from the colossus itself, or whether it was made intentionally by one of the men who were standing around near the base; because of my uncertainty about the origin, I am inclined to believe anything rather than that the sound issued from solid stones themselves. Strabo reports that he witnessed the statue, damaged by an earthquake “from the waist up,” and heard its curious emanations, but he also exhibits a healthy dose of skepticism. He does not identify the statue as Memnon. The first to identify the northern statue explicitly as Memnon was Pliny the Elder, writing in the last quarter of the first century CE. Like Strabo, he carefully distances himself (“narratur … ut putant”) from any commitment to a belief in speaking stones (HN 36.11):5 non absimilis illi narratur in Thebis delubro Serapis, ut putant, Memnonis statuae dicatus, quem cotidiano solis ortu contactum radiis crepare tradunt. It is said that in the temple of Serapis at Thebes, there is [a stone] not unlike it [i.e., basanite], which forms the statue of Memnon; remarkable, as they claim, for emitting a sound each morning when touched by the rays of the rising sun. Finally, in the second century CE, Pausanias claims to have heard the cry, and compares it to the twang of a string breaking on a musical instrument (1.42.3):6 ἐν Θήβαις ταῖς Αἰγυπτίαις, διαβᾶσι τὸν Νεῖλον πρὸς τὰς Σύριγγας καλουµένας, εἶδον ἔτι καθήµενον ἄγαλµα ἠχοῦν—Μέµνονα ὀνοµάζουσιν οἱ πολλοί, τοῦτον γάρ φασιν ἐξ Αἰθιοπίας ὁρµηθῆναι ἐς Αἴγυπτον καὶ τὴν ἄχρι Σούσων· ἀλλὰ γὰρ οὐ Μέµνονα οἱ Θηβαῖοι λέγουσι, Φαµένωφα δὲ εἶναι τῶν ἐγχωρίων οὗ τοῦτο ἄγαλµα ἦν· ἤκουσα δὲ ἤδη καὶ Σέσωστριν φαµένων εἶναι {τοῦτο ἄγαλµα}—ὃ Καµβύσης διέκοψε· καὶ νῦν ὁπόσον ἐκ κεφαλῆς ἐς µέσον σῶµά

5 Text from the 1906 Teubner edition via Perseus. 6 Text from the 1903 Teubner edition.

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ἐστιν ἀπερριµµένον, τὸ δὲ λοιπὸν κάθηταί τε καὶ ἀνὰ πᾶσαν ἡµέραν ἀνίσχοντος ἡλίου βοᾶι, καὶ τὸν ἦχον µάλιστα εἰκάσει τις κιθάρας ἢ λύρας ῥαγείσης χορδῆς. In Egyptian Thebes, upon crossing the Nile to the so-called Syringes [Tombs of the Kings], I saw a statue, still sitting, which was making a sound. Most people call it Memnon, who they say came from Ethiopia and conquered Egypt, going as far as Susa. The local Thebans, however, say that the statue is not of Memnon, but of a native man named Phamenoph, and I have heard others say that it is Sesostris. This statue was broken in two by Cambyses, and these days its head is broken off from its middle and lies on the ground; but the rest is seated, and every day at sunrise it makes a noise, and the sound resembles that of a harp or lyre when a string has been broken. This description from the Hadrianic period works well as a bookend with the earlier Strabo passage. Both authors admit to being uncertain of its identity— Strabo by omitting any reference, and Pausanias by offering up multiple identities;7 both turn to locals for information while remaining skeptical of what they hear; and both try to describe exactly what they are hearing in rational terms more familiar to their audience: a blow, a broken string. The visitors who left inscriptions on the statue also struggled with how best to describe what they heard: a headless statue producing a cry that was still somehow “vocal.”8 The terminology for Memnon’s utterance varies in the inscriptions themselves: φθέγγµα, φωνή, βοή, and αὐδή are all used at various points.9 But all agreed that what they were hearing was best described as a voice—inarticulate but still meaningful as a sign of divine favor.

7 Three other inscriptions also offer multiple Egyptian identifications: I.Col.Memnon 29, Amenoth (Julia Balbilla); I.Col.Memnon 31, Phamenoth (Julia Balbilla); I.Col.Memnon 99, Ammonian son of the city of No (Achilles). 8 For a convenient list of the terminology used, see Cirio 2011: 42. Julia Balbilla, visiting with Hadrian and Sabina, writes that Memnon’s voice resembles the high-pitched sound of beaten bronze (I.Col.Memnon 28.7–8: ὠς χάλκοιο τύπεντ[ο]ς ἴη Μέµνων πάλιν αὔδαν / ὀξύτονον), and Gallus Marianus, procurator of the Thebaid, imagines Memnon’s voice resonating like the clang of bronze armor hit by weapons in war (I.Col.Memnon 36.4: θεινοµένων χαλκῷ ἰκέλης). 9 φθέγγµα or φθέγγοµαι: I.Col.Memnon 13.7; 42.1; 70.1; 83.1; 93.7; 94.7; 98.3; 99.3. φωνή or φωνέω: 28.2; 31.2; 37.3; 39.1; 51.3, 8; 52.5; 61.2; 62.2; 92.2; 94.5; 99.5. βοή 19.11. αὐδή or αὐδάω: 11.2; 12.1; 28.7; 29.5; 30.8; 31.1; 39.2; 51.5; 72.2, 7; 93.4; 101.5.

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The Inscriptions

The colossus, situated as it was in the open landscape of the Theban plain, was accessible to a wide range of writing and reading communities: soldiers and emperors, men and women, native Latin and Greek speakers. Some texts seem to engage in a kind of dialogue with one another, responding to earlier lines; most reflect similar amazement at the miraculous sound. Spatially, too, the lines react to one another, crowding into the places considered most favorable (i.e., low on the leg, where the morning sun would hit first), as inscribers adapted their writing to fit around preexisting texts. As Mairs suggests for the shrine to Pan at El Kanais in the Egyptian desert, also popular with travelers in the imperial period, “the impetus to make a graffito in the first place probably came from reading and observing the large number of other texts on the rock face.”10 Many who wrote on the statue identified their marks explicitly as proskynemata, a writing practice that approximates religious worship.11 Inscribed Greek proskynemata are abundant all over Roman Egypt, with wording that can range from simply a name or an exhortation of the god to lengthy metrical compositions that honor the god’s power or the writer’s own status.12 Leaving behind one’s mark was integral to paying homage to the divine. One pilgrim inscribed enthusiastic encouragement at the temple to Mandoulis on the southern frontiers of Egypt:13 Σέβου τὸ θεῖον. Θύε πᾶσι τοῖς θεοῖς. Ἐφ’ ἕκαστον ἱερὸν ἐπιπορεύου προσκυνῶν… Revere the divine; sacrifice to all the gods; travel in homage (proskynon) to each temple …

10 11 12 13

Mairs 2011: 158. For a discussion of the terms “inscription” vs. “graffiti”, see Mairs 2011: 156–58. Others do emphasize the act of writing over worship, writing, e.g., ταῦτα ἔγραψε or “fecit.” See Frankfurter 2010: 526–46, esp. 534. Mitteis and Wilcken 1912 no. 116; see also Coleman and Elsner 1995: 24.

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The custom of inscribing proskynemata, or hiring someone else to do so (a poet to compose, a local professional to carve),14 may be understood as a replacement for earlier expressions of supplicatory presence such as leaving figurines or other offerings.15 Visitors also associated themselves with the divine in the hopes of gaining some advantage, whether spiritual or material, and trod a fine line between acknowledging the power of the god and hoping to increase their own prestige. The choice visitors made in terms of inscriptional narration, from a simple proskynema to more extended, often versified elaboration, speaks volumes about their self-image. One can argue that, in addition to commemorating something that happened to them at this particular place and time, these inscriptions also fulfill what has been called the “mnema function.” The “mnema function” describes the function of social memory aimed at a human audience, in which the inscription extends the memory of the dedicator’s name in connection with the monument beyond the time it would be remembered without the aid of writing.16 Many inscribers supplement their public, socially sanctioned narrative act of commemoration (mnema function) with a personal, particularized narrative act of self-promotion.17 But neither the mnema nor the proskynema function can function effectively when the inscription is encrypted. 4

Encrypted Inscriptions on the Memnon Colossus

The first hint we have of any outliers among the Memnon inscriptions comes from the writings of an enterprising amateur English archaeologist named Richard Pococke (1704–1765), who spent a good amount of time away from

14 15 16 17

On composers vs. carvers, see Rosenmeyer 2004: 620–24. See Frankfurter 2010: 534–35. For a narrative testifying that someone did something or had something happen to him or her in a particular place and time, see Bowie 2010: 313–17; for the mnema function, see Keesling 2003: 91, 199–200. This is true, of course, for dedicatory (as well as funerary) inscriptions in the Archaic and Classical periods as well: in that context, Furley 2010: 155–56 writes, “… dedicatory inscriptions walk a tight-rope between the private and the public. On the one hand, the monuments they adorn are public—assuming access to the sanctuary concerned is not restricted—whilst on the other they record personal religious history.”

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his duties as a clergyman on various grand tours of distant lands. In his 1743 publication, A Description of the East and Some Other Countries, volume 1: Observations on Egypt, Pococke carefully recorded statistics for each body part, such as the distance from foot to knee (19 ft), foot to ankle (2 ft, 4 in), and bottom of foot to top of instep (4 ft). He also noted the presence of inscriptions:18 On the pedestal of the imperfect statue is a Greek epigram … and on the instep and legs, for about eight feet high, are several inscriptions in Greek and Latin, some being epigrams in honour of Memnon, others, the greater part, testimonies of those who heard his sound, and some also in unknown characters (italics mine); all the inscriptions are ill cut, and in bad language, both on account of the hardness of the stone and the ignorance of the people, who probably made money by cutting these inscriptions for those that came to hear the sound. I copied them with all the exactness I possibly could, tho’ many of them were very difficult to be understood … Pococke’s sketches of the inscriptions, with their amusingly accurate rendition of human toes, remained the best source for the material for scholars for the next hundred years (see Figure 20.1). I suspect that his mention of inscriptions “in unknown characters” may be an acknowledgment that, among the Greek and Latin inscriptions, there were also several written in a language he could not decipher. Let us now focus on the first of these encrypted inscriptions, in which the inscriber remembers and honors his wife with an act of public worship, yet disguises his wife’s name and status with code (I.Col.Memnon 102). [Τò προ]σκύνηµα θκλοοσνθ ϡϙλχψβωεξβω νπυλϙθως ἱσ[τορ]ήσ[ας] ἐµνήσθη, Λούκι[ο]ς, ὥρας γ Παµε[νώτ].

A proskynema ? ? ? having visited, he remembered (her), Lucius at the third hour, in the month of Phamenoth.

Three and a half legible lines are juxtaposed with three lines of jumbled letters. Looking at the squeeze and photograph made by the editors (see Figure 20.2), 18

Pococke 1743:101–02.

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Figure 20.1

Rosenmeyer

Richard Pococke’s 1743 transcription of the Memnon inscriptions: partial segment of the right leg. Image courtesy of Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University

Encrypted Inscriptions: A Paradoxical Practice

G. 37 (102) : l’estampage.

G. 37 (102) : la pierre. Figure 20.2

Squeeze and photograph of I.Col.Memnon 102.

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it is fairly easy to decipher the shapes of the letters, even with the use of sampi and koppa. The lines appear on the top of the left foot, just underneath a break in the stone separating the foot from the ankle. The break destroyed the beginning of line 1; the rest of the lines are complete, except line 5, which consists of just one word, “Λούκι[ο]ς” / “Lucius.” The stone-cutter’s plans may have been thwarted by other extant inscriptions nearby. The letter size decreases as the inscription proceeds, changing from 20–25 millimeters for the first three lines, to 10–15 millimeters towards the end. Two centuries would pass from the time of Pococke’s transcription before anyone could make sense of the three jumbled lines. In 1951, André Bataille was the first to realize that the lines were actually encrypted, based on anagrams and a code of numeric-alphabetic equivalence. As Bataille’s explained, “each letter is represented by the letter that expresses its isopsephic difference from the first term of the numerical order that is immediately above it.”19 I clarify below. First, as Bataille brilliantly conjectured, numbers are associated with their corresponding letters, including sampi and koppa, which are given a value of 900 and 90 respectively. A numeric formula decodes input text (inscribed in code) to output text (decoded). So, if the letter value is < 10, e.g. eta, then 10 – eta (8) = beta (2). If the letter value is > 10 but < 100, e.g. lambda, then 100 – lambda (30) = omicron (70). And if the letter value is > 100, e.g. tau, then 1000 – tau (300) = psi (700). If we read the jumbled letters θκλοοσνθ / ϡϙλχψβωεξβω νπυλϙθως according to this system, the output should make sense. We begin with the first two words (see Table 20.1):

19

Bataille 1951: 349: “chaque signe est rendu par celui qui exprime sa différence isopséphique avec le premier terme de l’ordre numéral immédiatement supérieur: 10 pour les unités, 100 pour les dizaines, 1000 pour les centaines …”.

Encrypted Inscriptions: A Paradoxical Practice Table 20.1

Θ K Λ O O Σ N Θ ϡ sampi ϙ koppa Λ X Ψ Β Ω Ε Ξ Β Ω

383

I.Col.Memnon 102 lines 2-3 with their numeric-alphabetic equivalences

10 - Θ (9) = 100 - K (20) = 100 - Λ (30) = 100 - O (70) = 100 - O (70) = 1000 - Σ (200) = 100 - N (50) = 10 - Θ (9) = 1000 - ϡ (900) = 100 - ϙ (90) = 100 - Λ (30) = 1000 - X (600) = 1000 - Ψ(700) = 10 – Β (2) = 1000 – Ω (800)= 10 – Ε (5) = 100 –Ξ (60) 10 – Β (2) = 1000 – Ω (800)=

A (1) Π (80) O (70) Λ (30) Λ (30) Ω (800) N (50) A (1) P (100) I (10) O (70) Y (400) T (300) Η (8) Σ (200) Ε (5) Μ (40) Η (8) Σ (200)

The opening lines now read, [Τò προ]σκύνηµα Ἀπολλωναρίου τῆς ἐµῆς, revealing the name of Lucius’ wife, Apollonarion, with a genitive singular feminine article and possessive adjective. The final encrypted word, however, is more complicated, as it combines a numeric-alphabetic code with an anagram. In addition, I propose that two letters were misidentified by earlier editors. We need to tweak Bataille’s transcription in order to unscramble the letter series to read, as it surely must, γυναικός. But first, let us decode the final encrypted word (see Table 20.2):

384 Table 20.2

N Π Υ Λ ϙ koppa Θ Ω Σ

Rosenmeyer I.Col.Memnon 102 line 4 with its numeric-alphabetic equivalence

100 - N (50) = 100 – Π (80) = 1000 – Y (400) = 100 - Λ (30) = 100 - ϙ (90) = 10 - Θ (9) = 1000 – Ω (800) = 1000 - Σ (200) =

N (50) K (20) X (600)* O (70) I (10) A (1) Σ (200) Ω (800)**

* but if we read chi, then: X 1000 - X (600) = Y (400) ** but if we read zeta, then: Z 10 – Z (7) = Γ (3)

André and Étienne Bernand 1960 followed Bataille 1951 in reading νπυλϙθως, making two critical errors: they confused chi with upsilon and zeta with sigma. The photograph of the inscription (see Figure 20.3) shows a lunate sigma as the first legible letter in the upper left of photograph. Comparing that to the letter in question at the end of line 3, I propose that what we see at line 3 is zeta, not sigma. The confusion between capital upsilon and chi is more understandable, as only one slanting line separates the two letters—but if we compare the upsilon third from the left in the top line of the photo with the chi below it, i.e. the fourth legible letter from left in the second line, I am confident that we should read the letter under discussion as chi, not upsilon. In both cases, the corrected version, νπχλϙθωζ, functions perfectly with the given code.

Figure 20.3

Photograph of I.Col.Memnon 102 showing letters under debate (sigma, zeta, chi, upsilon) - νπυλϙθως vs. νπχλϙθωζ.

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Now correctly read and decoded, the three lines read, “for Apollonarion, my wife”. The name Apollonarion, unfortunately, occurs so frequently in papyri, especially those from Oxyrhynchus, that we cannot draw any further conclusions about her identity.20 But below is the fully decoded inscription. [Τò προ]σκύνηµα θκλοοσνθ (= Ἀπολλωνα-) ϡϙλχψβωεξβω (= ρίου τῆς ἐµῆς); νπχλϙθωζ (= νκυοιασγ = γυναικός). ἱσ[τορ]ήσ[ας] ἐµνήσθη, Λούκι[ο]ς, ὥρας γ Παµε[νώτ].

A proskynema for Apollonarion my wife; Having visited, he remembered [her], Lucius, at the third hour, in the month of Phamenoth (= 25 Feb.–26 March).

Before speculating further about possible motivations for encoding any part of an inscription, let us consider the other coded inscription on the Memnon colossus: the short proskynema I.Col.Memnon 97. These two lines are placed 40 centimeters below I.Col.Memnon 102, on the left side of the left foot, separated by a single inscription (I.Col.Memnon 19). It is also undated—we cannot tell which of the two was inscribed first—with letters about 15–20 millimeters high. The brothers Bernand complain that it is inscribed fairly shallowly, and that its letters are irregular and hard to decipher.21 I include a photograph (see Figure 20.4) as well as the transcribed text below (I.Col.Memnon 97): ρπαµσοκηνυµ κπκυανθκωηω It turns out that that this inscription is an anagram using standard alphabetic abbreviations for the inscriber’s name, Marcus Quintus Pythonax, which is written in the possessive genitive case. The abbreviations for case endings and names are conventional, but there does seem to be a kind of contamination between the formula of proskynema, which requires that the proper name be written in the genitive case, and the formula of “I have come”, which would require the proper name to be written in the nominative case. ρπαµσοκηνυµ = Προσκύνηµα Μ[άκρου κπκυανθκωηω = Κ. Πυθώνακ[τος]. Ἥκω. [This is the] proskynema of M[arcus] Q[uintus] Pythonax. I have come. 20 21

I.Col.Memnon 207. I.Col.Memnon: 193.

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Côté extérieur du pied gauche.

G. 32 (98) : l’estampage.

G. 31 (96) et G. 31 bis (97) : l’estampage. Figure 20.4

I.Col.Memnon photograph (end of 2nd and all of 3rd line of section labeled 31) and squeeze of I.Col.Memnon 97.

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Unfortunately the name Pythonax does not occur anywhere else in Egypt, so again we cannot say anything specific about the social status or motivations of the author. 5

Encryption in Context: Acrostics and Magic Ostraka

Although we cannot confirm anything other than the personal names of these two men, we can place their lines in the larger context of encrypted Greek verse. Riddling verses were particularly popular in the Hellenistic and imperial periods.22 A subset of riddles involves the suppression of personal names, which are instead hinted at through indirect means. Thus Antipater of Sidon imagines decoding dice throws carved on a gravestone to decipher the name, age, and birthplace of the decedent (Anth. Pal. 7.427); Alcaeus of Mytilene (Anth. Pal. 7.429) puzzles over two phis carved on a gravestone, but talks his readers through the clues to arrive at the name of the decedent: Phidis (and praises himself as an “Oedipus” for solving his own “Sphinx”).23 Lycophron’s Alexandra is infamous for replacing proper names with convoluted descriptions. But writing riddles in books for other educated elites (even if the epigrams of the Greek Anthology claim to document the carving of actual funerary inscriptions) is not the same as carving an encrypted dedicatory inscription on a public sacred monument. We can, however, turn to riddling inscriptions for closer comparison. We have good evidence for funerary and dedicatory acrostic verse inscriptions. Of particular interest to our investigation are three examples from Roman Egypt. The first two are proskynemata by the same author, the Decurion Paccius Maximus, carved on a wall at the temple of Mandoulis at Kalabsha in the 1st century CE (Bernand, Inscr. métriques 168, 169).24 The shorter 12-line example uses the first letter of the first seven lines to spell out the dedicator’s name, Pakkios/Paccius, and then follows the acrostic with an isopsephic puzzle in the next two lines (Bernand, Inscr. métriques 169: 8–9, “To find out the 22 23 24

See, for example, the articles by Männlein-Robert 2007: 251–271; Meyer 2007: 185–210; and the volume by Kwapisz, Petrain and Szymański 2013. On riddles in the Greek Anthology, see Luz 2013. On the series Anth. Pal. 7.421–29, see Goldhill 1994. The verses were also published in Bernand, Inscr. métriques, including bibliography. Paccius Maximus left a third inscription at Kalabsha (not coded), as well as another in the temple of Sarapis (CIG 5119); for further details on Paccius Maximus, see Wagner 1993; Burstein 1998; 1999–2000; Mairs 2013: 291 n. 22. On Kalabsha, and the popularity of Greek inscriptions at the site, see Adams 2003: 580–83.

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[full] name of the one who wrote this, | Count two times two hundred and twenty-one”; as it turns out, this number represents, “the sum of the numerical values of the letters in the Greek spelling of the name “Maximos”.25 Our second and longer example (Bernand, Inscr. métriques 168) is a proskynema of 36 lines, in which the expanded acrostic gives the full dedicatory formula: “I wrote [this], Maximus [the] Decurion”.26 In these lines, as Garulli notes, a horizontal stroke has been added below the first letters of lines 7 and 22 to divide the main segments of the acrostic, effectively coaching the viewer towards a correct reading.27 Our third example of an inscribed acrostic from approximately the same time as the Memnon examples is a 14-line Latin inscription by one Julius Faustinus, dated by reference to Hadrian as well as to M. Petronius Mamertinus, prefect of Egypt from 133 to 137 CE. I include a section of it here (note the acrostic AUST- of Faustinus) because it seems to refer to hearing the colossus speak (CIL 3.77.6–10):28 … Hadriani tamen ad pia saecula verti [numina] Ausa peroccultas remeant rimata latebras Ut spirent cautes ac tempora prisca salute[nt; Sacra Mamertino sonuerunt praeside signa Tum superum manifesta fides stetit … Yet daring to turn back in the pious era of Hadrian, [the gods] return [to earth], searching out hidden recesses, So that the stones might breathe and greet [again] ancient times; The sacred statues sounded while Mamertinus was prefect. Then the loyalty of the gods stood manifest. While acrostic inscriptions are indeed partially encrypted, I think that, in general, acrostics present lightly encoded information; they tend not to aggressively occlude essential data. Garulli concurs: “acrostics are designed to be seen and read with little effort, not as a hidden message.”29 In the cases above, once the pattern of an acrostic has been noted, the name of the inscriber is fairly easy to reconstruct from line beginnings or other visual cues, such as the lines drawn 25 26 27 28 29

See Garulli 2013: 254–55 and Mairs 2013: 289–90, 299. See Garulli 2013: 255–57 and Mairs 2013: 288. Garulli 2013: 255. See also Garulli 2013: 260–61, on a dedicatory epigram, dated to the late 2nd century CE, found at Sakha in the northern Delta, which consists of a bilingual inscription in which the Demotic text is also an acrostic. Latin text from Mairs 2013: 290; the translation is my own. Garulli 2013: 268.

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to emphasize word breaks in Bernand, Inscr. métriques 168, or the obvious hint at the presence of a numeric code in Bernand, Inscr. métriques 169. Paccius Maximus invites readers to participate as players, rather than shutting them out of the game.30 Signposting techniques like those mentioned above guide the reader smoothly to a successful act of reading and interpreting. But in the Memnon inscriptions under discussion, the authors seem to be constructing a stronger firewall, one not intended to be easy to breach; they wish to be noticed, but not necessarily to be understood at first (or even second) glance. In this way, we could compare them more appropriately to magical papyri, such as those now housed in London and Leiden, which use special symbols derived from modified Greek or Demotic letters31 and whose goal is surely secrecy in the context of proprietary substances used for “magical” healing. Bernand comments on the numerous examples of magic-inspired inscriptions in honor of the Egyptian god Bes at Abydos, including magic squares and pentagrams.32 We could also consider the 3rd/4th-century CE isopsephic proskynema carved on the northern wall of the first court in the southern temple (A) of Medinet Madi.33 ΨΛΚϡΛΩΠΧΝΒΞΘΨΠΒΩΦΘΨϡΒΛΧΩΠ̣ — — ΠΘ̣ ϙ̣ΨΛΧΩΚΘϡΘΧΨΛΧΩ. {τὸ προσκύνηµα Τκῆς Φατρήους κ[αὶ — — —] καὶ τοὺς παρ’ αὑτούς} This last example may be the closest parallel for the two encrypted Memnon proskynemata.34 It, too, uses the less common letters sampi and koppa, and is carved among other, unencrypted proskynemata. But while we can decipher it, the Medinet Madi inscription does not bring us any closer to an understanding of its author’s identity, status, or motivations.35 30

31 32

33 34 35

Mairs 2013: 280: “All the figures who claim authorship or ownership of these inscriptions in their acrostichs aspire to demonstrate their literary talents and skill at word-play.” Thus Mairs 2013: 292 imagines that Paccius, “takes pride in his ‘clever poem’ (sophon poema) and its ‘clever words’ (sopha grammata). See Dieleman 2005: 87–96, 302–7. Bernand 1988: 63: “Le magie n’est pas non plus absente de des textes populaires comme le montrent les mots carrés (456, 456 bis), la présence d’un pentagramme (557), ou le thème astrologique d’un Artémidore (641).” The numbers refer to the edition by Perdrizet and Lefebvre 1919. See I.Fayoum III 186 and Menchetti 2005: 237. See Menchetti 2005: 237. Although Mairs 2013: 285 does attempt to connect the use of acrostichs in particular as “sophisticated word-play” to “part of a wider claim to belonging to a particular elite cultural milieu, one which is associated with a high social status and with a wider community

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Mairs posits that, “[a]crostich inscriptions were made to be seen, and from the style, content and form of the final product we can infer something of the author’s expectation of his audience, and even his expectations of their critical reaction.”36 I am not quite as confident about inferences we might make about the two (out of one hundred seven) encrypted Memnon inscriptions. Let me say in passing, however, that I disagree with Bataille, who accuses Lucius and Pythonax of “un snobisme assez ridicule;”37 a more effective “snobisme” would be to show off one’s learning by using elegant, allusive language, as many other Memnon inscribers do. But there are reasons why these two visitors may have wished to encode their writings. First, we can imagine that they were trying to call attention to their contributions: the jumbled letters made the lines stand out amidst the other (unencrypted) texts crowded onto the surface of the statue.38 Second, the magic or religious power attributed to numbers and letters within Egyptian culture might have suggested to Lucius the use of a numeric-alphabetic code, effectively harnessing the magic for himself and his wife; Garulli argues the same for the acrostics carved in temples nearby at Philae and Kalabsha: “the magic/religious or mystic power attributed to the letters of the alphabet within oriental and Egyptian culture explains the use of acrostics in religious contexts in Egypt.”39 And third, as the brothers Bernand and Bernand postulate, Lucius, probably a Roman soldier stationed nearby, might have been concerned about his wife’s reputation and unwilling to expose her identity to the public gaze.40 This does not seem to stop others from including names of their wives and children elsewhere on the colossus, but Lucius must have had his reasons. Not content to write “my wife” without a name, he turned to code to find a way to be simultaneously specific and obscure. Lucius’ encrypted inscription both disguises his message and at the same time invites and challenges the reader

36 37 38 39 40

beyond one’s own locality.” Medinet Madi is also where a set of twenty-seven ostraka has been found inscribed with another system of numeric-alphabetic cryptography; as Menchetti 2005: 238 explains, “in these Demotic texts, Greek words and proper names are written as a series of seemingly meaningless Demotic numbers. The key to this system is quite simple: the Demotic number must be replaced by the corresponding Greek number in its standard alphabetical notation.” Mairs 2013: 285. Bataille 1951: 349. On strategies employed by inscriptional epigrammatists to attract their potential readers, see Baumbach, Petrovic, and Petrovic 2010: 11. Garulli 2013: 271. I.Col.Memnon: 205–8.

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to decode it. One wonders how long Lucius’ and Pythonax’s contemporaries gazed at the colossus’ carved surfaces, trying to solve the puzzle of these curious encrypted inscriptions. Bibliography Adams, J.N. 2003. Bilingualism and the Latin Language. Cambridge. Bataille, A. 1951. “Thèbes gréco-romaine.” Chronique d’Égypte 52: 325–53. Baumbach, M., A. Petrovic, and I. Petrovic (eds.) 2010. Archaic and Classical Greek Epigram. Cambridge. Benefiel, R. 2013. “Magic Squares, Alphabet Jumbles, Riddles and More: The Culture of Word-Games among the Graffiti of Pompeii.” In J. Kwapisz, D. Petrain and M. Szymanski (eds.), The Muse at Play: Riddles and Wordplay in Greek and Latin Poetry, 65–82. Berlin. Bernard, A. and Bernard, É. (1960) Les Inscriptions grecques et latines du colosse de Memnon. Paris. Bernand, É. 1988. “Pèlerins dans l’Égypte grecque et romaine.” In M. Mactoux and E. Geny (eds.), Mélanges Pierre Lévêque, 49–63. Paris. Bowersock, G.W. 1984. “The Miracle of Memnon.” BASP 21: 21–32. Bowie, E.L. 2010. “Epigram as Narration.” In M. Baumbach, A. Petrovic, and I. Petrovic (eds.), 313–17. Cambridge. Burstein, S. 1998. “Paccius Maximus: A Greek Poet in Nubia or a Nubian Greek Poet?” Actes de la VIIIe conférence international des études nubiennes, vol. 3, 47–52. Lille. Burstein, S. 1999–2000. “A Soldier and His God in Lower Nubia: The Mandulis Hymns of Paccius Maximus.” Greco-Arabica 7–8: 45–50. Cirio, A.M. 2011. Gli Epigrammi di Giulia Balbilla: ricordi di una dama di corte : e altri testi al femminile sul colosso di Memnone. Lecce. Coleman, S. and J. Elsner (eds.)1995. Pilgrimage: Past and Present in World Religions. Cambridge, MA. Day, J.W. 2010. Archaic Greek Epigram and Dedication. Cambridge. Dieleman, J. 2005. Priests, Tongues, and Rites: the London-Leiden Magical Manuscripts and Translations in Egyptian Rituals (100–300 CE). Leiden. Dornseiff, F. 1925. Das Alphabet in Mystik und Magie2. Leipzig. Foertmeyer, V. 1989. Tourism in Graeco-Roman Egypt. (Diss. Princeton University). Frankfurter, D. 2010. “Religion in Society: Graeco-Roman.” In A.B. Lloyd (ed.), A Companion to Ancient Egypt, 526–46. London. Furley, W. 2010. “Life in a Line: A Reading of Dedicatory Epigram.” in M. Baumbach, A. Petrovic and I. Petrovic (eds.), 151–66. Cambridge.

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Garulli, V. 2013. “Greek Acrostic Verse Inscriptions.” In J. Kwapisz, D. Petrain, and M. Szymanski (eds.), 246–78. Berlin. Goldhill, S. 1994. “The naïve and knowing eye: ecphrasis and the culture of viewing in the Hellenistic world.” In S. Goldhill and R. Osborne (eds.), Art and Text in Ancient Greek Culture, 197–223. Cambridge. Keesling, C. 2003. The Votive Statues of the Athenian Acropolis. Cambridge. Kwapisz, J, D. Petrain, and M. Szymanski. (eds.) 2013. The Muse at Play: Riddles and Wordplay in Greek and Latin Poetry. Berlin. Luz, C. 2013. “What Has It Got in Its Pocketses? Or, What Makes a Riddle a Riddle?” In J. Kwapisz, D. Petrain and M. Szymanski (eds.), 83–99. Berlin. Männlein-Robert, I. 2007. “Epigrams on Art: Voice and Voicelessness in Hellenistic Epigram.” In P. Bing and J.S. Bruss (eds.), Brill’s Companion to Hellenistic Epigram, 251–71. Leiden. Mairs, R. 2011. “Egyptian ‘Inscriptions’ and Greek ‘Graffiti’ at El Kanais.” In J.A. Baird and C. Taylor (eds.), Ancient Graffiti in Context, 153–64. London. Mairs, R. 2013. “Sopha grammata: Acrostichs in Greek and Latin Inscriptions from Arachosia, Nubia, and Libya.” In J. Kwapisz, D. Petrain, and M. Szymanski (eds.), 279–306. Berlin. Menchetti, A. 2005. “Words in Cipher in the Ostraka from Medinet Madi.” EVO 28: 237–43. Meyer, D. 2007. “The Act of Reading and the Act of Writing in Hellenistic Epigram.” In P. Bing and J.S. Bruss (eds.), Brill’s Companion to Hellenistic Epigram, 185–210. Leiden. Milnor, K. 2009. “Literary Literacy in Roman Pompeii: The Case of Virgil’s Aeneid.” In W.A. Johnson and H.N. Parker (eds.), Ancient Literacies: The Culture of Reading in Greece and Rome, 288–319. Oxford. Mitteis, L. and Wilcken, U. 1912. Grundzüge und Chrestomathie der Papyruskunde, vol. 1.2. Leipzig and Berlin. Pococke R. 1743. A Description of the East and Some other Countries, Vol. I: Observations on Egypt. London. Rosenmeyer, P.A. 2004. “Traces of Professional Poets on the Memnon Colossus.” CQ 54: 620–24. Rosenmeyer, P.A. 2008. “Greek Verse Inscriptions in Roman Egypt.” CA 27: 333–57. Rosenmeyer, P.A. 2018. The Language of Ruins: Greek and Latin Inscriptions on the Memnon Colossus. Oxford/NY. Salvatore, M., ed. 2012. Ainigma e griphos: gli antichi e l’oscurità della parola. Pisa. Wagner, G. 1993. “Le décurion Paccius Maximus, champion de l’acrostiche.” ZPE 95: 147–48.

Chapter 21

Lucius Egnatius Victor Lollianus: A New Honorific Inscription from Athens Dimitrios Sourlas In 2008, the First Ephorate of Prehistoric and Classical Antiquities undertook large-scale restoration works on the so-called “Aiolos.”1 This two-story building, which is located at the intersection of Aiolou and Adrianou Streets in the historic district of Plaka, was declared a historical monument by the Greek Ministry of Culture in 1985. The “Aiolos” was one of the first hotels to be built in Athens after it became the official capital of the newly established Kingdom of Greece. Advertisements in local newspapers show that the “Aiolos” was already in operation in 1835. Its construction should be dated to sometime after 1832, connected with the opening of the modern Aiolou Street. The 2008 restorations were followed by excavations begun in 2010 and completed in 2013. These excavations offered the first opportunity to investigate archeologically an important area of Roman Athens. Below, I offer a brief account of the most significant new discoveries, since they provide helpful context for the epigraphical find that is the main focus of my paper. After we removed the rooms’ modern floors, we discovered a large, almost twelve-meter long section of the south precinct wall of Hadrian’s Library. Four courses of limestone blocks from Piraeus are preserved. Six and a half meters of the south-eastern corner and eastern wall also survive. We found another fairly well-preserved wall parallel to the precinct wall, built of rubble stones and mortar in the opus incertum technique. In contact with this wall, we found a mixed construction consisting of stones and many fragments of marble architectural members held together with soil and mortar. This construction should be interpreted as part of the core of the Post-Herulian wall, that is, the Late Roman fortification wall that was built after the sack of Athens by the Herulians in 267, which left extensive parts of the glorious city in ruins,2 due to

1 On the history of the building and the recent excavations, see my recent publications: Sourlas 2011, 46–63; Sourlas 2012, 35–37; Sourlas 2013, 149–68; Sourlas 2014a, 299–306; Sourlas 2014b. All dates are CE unless otherwise noted. 2 See Theocharake 2015, 62–64, 239–42, 261–63.

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its morphological similarities with the section of the Post-Herulian wall found in the Library of Hadrian. To the north of the precinct wall lies the second basement of the “Aiolos.” Almost the entire area of the second room of the basement was occupied in antiquity by a large building, probably a bath complex. In the same area, outside and along the precinct wall of the Library, we found a thick, continuous layer of waterproof concrete, probably for a scaffolding (scansoria machina) used during the construction of the Library. At a later time, probably in the mid-second century or slightly later, a lead pipe was installed just above the scaffolding. The presence of the water-pipe almost certainly attests to a street, and indeed, we also discovered a small section of a road that runs parallel to the south precinct wall of the Library. This should be the road that passed between the Library of Hadrian and the Roman Agora, leading to the so-called Pantheon or Panhellenion.3 All these elements (the scaffolding, the lead pipe, and the road) were partially or completely destroyed by the construction of an enormous structure, which, in my opinion, is the most important new find. Part of this structure, with visible dimensions 3.7 × 2 meters, lies under the foundations of the modern building. It is constructed entirely of large, reused marble architectural members, including at least sixteen inscribed marble pedestals, with concrete and smaller stones added (Fig. 21.1). This structure is almost certainly part of the southern pillar of a gate of the Post-Herulian Wall. As early as the 1960s, John Travlos hypothesized that the Post-Herulian Wall would have had a gate at this location. He gave it the provisional name “The Megali Panaghia Gate” due to its proximity to the church of Virgin Mary in the center of the Library.4 Unfortunately, most of the gate lies under the modern building of the “Aiolos,” and is unlikely to be investigated in the near future. I return to the inscribed pedestals found incorporated into the gate. They are made of Pentelic marble and would have supported bronze sculptures. From the letter forms and their typology, they should be dated to the middle Imperial period. The Herulian invasion of 267 provides an infallible terminus ante quem. We temporarily removed some of the bases from their findspots in order to record them fully, but most of them were studied in situ (Fig. 21.2). This 3 According to the latest archaeological data, the road was about 10 meters wide. On the ancient course of the road, see Travlos 1960, 105, pl. 60. For the excavations in the so-called Pantheon (78 Adrianou Street), see Costaki 2006, 25, 289–90; Ficuciello 2008, 80–81; Malacrino 2014, 753–56. 4 Travlos 1960, 128; 1988, 140, pl. 5; see now Bouras 2010, 42–43, fig. 15.

Lucius Egnatius Victor Lollianus: A New Honorific Inscription

Figure 21.1

395

The “Aiolos” hotel: reused pedestals built into the gate of the Post-Herulian wall. Photo E. Bardani (Archive of the the Ephorate of Antiquities of Athens)

preliminary study made it clear that almost all of the bases supported statues in honor of prominent men and women, members of the Athenian elite of the Roman Imperial period, including generals, sacred officials, and orators from as far away as Crete. In one case, the Athenian ephebes honored a kosmetes.5 In order to demonstrate the wealth of information that can be gained from this unique epigraphic assemblage, I will dwell in some detail on arguably the most significant statue base, which refers to a prominent Roman senator of the third century, Lucius Egnatius Victor Lollianus (PIR 2 E 36). A member of the gens Egnatia, he was probably the son of Lucius Egnatius Victor, consul suffectus before 207.6 In 213, Lollianus served as one of the sodales Antoniniani and in 218, he was appointed legatus Augusti pro praetore of Galatia. At some point between 225 and 230, he was appointed consul suffectus. Around 230, he became corrector of the province of Achaea (on which see below), and around 5 Statues were regularly set up in public spaces, porticos, theaters, etc. These pedestals would not have originally been located far away. In my opinion, there are three likely candidates: the Roman Agora, the Library of Hadrian, and the so-called Pantheon. For various reasons, which I hope to analyze in detail on a future occasion, I believe that the statues and the supporting bases originally stood in the Library. 6 For the stemma of the family see PIR 2 III E 35; Christol 1986, 192; Chausson 1997, 272, 284–85.

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Figure 21.2

Sourlas

The “Aiolos” hotel: the gateway of the post-Herulian wall after the removal of one row of pedestals. The inscribed base for Lollianus is the second from the right. Photo E. Bardani (Archive of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Athens)

230–235, during the reign of Alexander Severus (222–235), legatus Augusti pro praetore of Pannonia Inferior. He must have remained influential during the reign of Gordian III, since between 242 and 245 he served as the governor of Asia, probably in connection with the imperial plans to campaign against the Sassanid Empire. Lollianus was retained as governor by Philip the Arab after the death of Gordian, an indication that he gave immediate support to Philip after the emperor returned from his Persian campaign. Finally, in 254, he was appointed praefectus urbi in Rome by his brother-in-law Valerian, who had become emperor the year before.7 Given his extraordinary career, it is hardly surprising that Lollianus features as honorand in an impressive array of dedications, many of which go to 7 On Lucius Egnatius Victor Lollianus see RE V (1987), s.v. Egnatius (42), col. 2001–2003 (Groag); PIR 2 III E 36; Magie 1950, 700, 1563–64 n. 14; Barbieri 1952, 51–52 n. 286; Dietz 1980, 149–54 n. 35; Thomasson 1984, 236 n. 191; Christol 1986, 190–92 n. 24; Leunissen 1989, 185; Loriot 1996, 221–29; Chausson 1997, 217, 317; Settipani 2000, 398–400; Salomies 2001, 150, 159, 168; Christol, Drew-Bear, and Taslialan 2003, 346–59; Mennen 2011, 101–3. See also Haensch 2005, 289–301, who assumes the existence of two individuals with the same name.

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great lengths in praising him.8 The number of monuments in his honor, especially from the Greek East, is so vast that Lollianus has been aptly described as “the best documented governor of the province of Asia in the Imperial period.”9 Greek and Latin honorific inscriptions for Lollianus have been found in Ephesus, Miletus, Metropolis, Tralleis, Aphrodisias, and Smyrna. Central Greece, and more specifically Boeotia, has produced three inscriptions: ΙG VII 2510 and 2511 from Thespiae and Plataea respectively, and SEG XLI 456 from Coronea.10 Recently, an imperial letter from Caracalla and Geta (SEG LVIII 329) concerning the supply of oil for the gymnasia of Troizen has provided further information on his career.11 In Attica, an honorary inscription for Lollianus was found on the Acropolis (IG II 2 4217; Fig. 21.3),12 and an edict, unfortunately fragmentary, issued by Lollianus himself was found at Eleusis (I.Eleusis 643). The text I present below offers welcome new evidence for the career of this illustrious politician. 1

The Inscribed Base

White (Pentelic) marble statue base, preserved almost intact. On its top there once stood a bronze statue of Lollianus, as the cuttings for the feet show.13 The pedestal is crowned with an ovolo and mouldings on the top. On each corner 8 9 10

11 12

13

For example, I.Ephesus 664A and 3088 (Greek), 664 and 3089 (Latin); SEG XXXII 1158 (Metropolis); SEG XLIV 863 (Aphrodias); SEG LIII 1327–1328 (Smyrna); I.Ephesus 3436; Milet VI 1 I 7 268; I.Tralleis 55; I.Smyrna 635. See also Loriot 1996, 221–26. Herrmann and Malay 2003, 2. ΙG VII 2510: ἀγαθῇ τύχῃ· τὸν λαµπρότατον ὑπατικόν, ἐπανορθωτὴν Ἀχαιΐας | Λ(ούκιον) Ἐγνάτιον Βίκτορα Λολλιανόν, τὸν ἁγνὸν καὶ δίκαιον | παρὰ τῷ Ἐλευθερίῳ ∆ιὶ καὶ τῇ Ὁµονοίᾳ τῶν Ἑλλήνων | Πλαταιέων ⟨ἡ⟩ πόλις τὸν ἑαυτῆς εὐεργέτην; ΙG VII 2511: τὸν λαµπρότατον | ὑπατικὸν Λ(ούκιον) Ἐγνά|τιον Βίκτορα Λολ|λιανὸν Θεσπιέων | ἡ βουλὴ καὶ ὁ δῆ|µος τὸν εὐεργέτην; SEG XLI 456: [τὸν λαµπρό]τατον | [ὑπατι]κὸν καὶ ἐπα|[νο]ρθωτὴν τῆς Ἀχαΐ|[ας Λ(ούκιον) Ἐ]γνάτιον Οὐίκτο|[ρα Λολλ]ια[νό]ν, ἡ πόλις | [Κορωνέων]. Ed. pr. Steinhauer 2008, 193–203 (now SEG LVIII 329). If Steinhauer is right that the fragmentary inscription dates between 211 and 212, then it is one of the earliest testimonies of Lollianus’s activities as a member of the imperial council. IG II 2 4217: ἡ ἐξ Ἀρείου πάγου βουλὴ | Λ Ἐγνάτ | Οὐίκτορα Λολλιανὸν | ἀντὶ τῆς πρὸς ἑαυτοὺς εὐνοίας | τῆς τε κηδεµονίας τῶν Ἀθηνῶν | τὸν ῥήτορα. The inscription is now kept at the old Acropolis Museum. An earlier inscription on the other side of the columnar pedestal shows that it was reused. While pedestals were commonly reused from the early imperial period onwards, the “Aiolos” pedestal has only one inscription. For the practice, see Shear 2007, 221–46 and for its expansion in late antiquity see, Ward-Perkins 2016, 28–40. Only the upper surface, the inscribed surface, and the right side of the pedestal are visible because, for safety reasons, the pedestal was not removed from its original findspot. Traces of a small chisel show that the rear side is also carved. It has been given the inventory number ΠΛ 2646.

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Figure 21.3

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IG II 2 4217 (Old Acropolis Museum). Photo E. Bardani (Archive of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Athens)

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of the architrave there is a summarily carved palmette.14 An 18-line inscription has been cut on the front. Its preservation is excellent with most letters retaining their original red color. Dimensions: height 1.05 m; width 0.58 m; thickness 0.49 m; letter height 0.15 m., but 0.22 m. in the heading, l.1 (Fig. 21.4).

5

10

15

ἀγαθῆι τύχηι Λ· Ἐγνάτ· Οὐίκτορα Λολλιανὸν τὸν λαµπρότατον ὑπατικόν, τὸν πρώτιστον τῶν δέκα ῥήτορα, τὸν ἐπανορθωτὴν τῆς Ἑλλάδος, τὸν ἰς τριετὲς ἀνθύπατον τῆς Ἀσίας, τὸν Ἀρεοπαγείτην, τὸν Εὐπατρίδην, τὸν Πραξιεργίδην, τὸν Εὐµολπίδην, τὸν τοῖν θεοῖν σεµνότατον ἐξηγητήν, Μ· Οὔλπιος Ἀσκληπιάδης Εὐρυτίδας ὁ ῥήτωρ καὶ πολιτευτὴς τὸν σωτῆρα καὶ προστάτην καὶ ἐν πᾶσι εὐεργέτην ὅτι καὶ τὴν ἀνάστασιν τῶν ἀνδριάντων κατὰ τὴν γνώµην τῶν σεµνοτάτων συνεδρίων αὐτὸς ΕΠΟ ΛΕΙΤΕΥΣΑΤΟ. vac.

I start with the dedicant of the monument, who emerges in lines 11–12: Μάρκος Οὔλπιος Ἀσκληπιάδης Εὐρυτίδας, a self-styled orator and politician. Asklepiades Eurytidas was already known from ephebic documents of the early third century.15 In IG II 2 2193, he features twice, once as a gymnasiarch (ll. 12–13). I note that his nomen appears to be Iulius (l. 12: Μ · Ἰούλ Πίος and l. 13: Ἰούλιος). This might be a modern misreading, or a mistake made by the stone-cutter. Our inscription unequivocally gives the nomen Ulpius, on the basis of which the text of IG II 2 2193 should be reassessed. In the second example, IG II 2 2194, l. 16, his alternative name is emphasized (ὁ καί Εὐρυτίδας). In IG II 2 2196, l. 7, he is said to be the games-commissioner of the Antoneia, if the heavy restorations are correct. They may well be, especially now that scholars strongly believe 14 15

Since the lower part of the pedestal it is not visible, we do not know its exact form. On the basis of numerous comparanda, we can assume that it would have had the same moulding as on the top, but without the palmettes. Testimonia conveniently collected by Byrne 2003, 306.

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Figure 21.4

The inscription Photo E. Bardani, drawing M. Lefantzis (Archive of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Athens)

that IG II 2 2194 and 2196 are fragments of the same document.16 The new inscription suggests that Asklepiades Eurytidas remained politically active for several decades after his first epigraphic appearance in 201/2 or thereabout.17 However, what matters most are the new details of Lollianus’ career that we can glimpse in this document. After the banal centered heading in line 1, we are introduced to Lollianus, who is described as λαµπρότατος ὑπατικός 16 17

For details, see Follet 1976, 232–233. This is the date given by Follet 1976, 327, and endorsed by Byrne 2003, 306 and 532. Incidentally, one should note that in the previously published Athenian inscriptions, Asklepiades also bears his demotic, Θορίκιος. This detail is missing in the inscription under examination.

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(clarissimus consularis) since he belonged to the senatorial class. He is also said to have been πρώτιστος τῶν δέκα ῥήτωρ, “the foremost orator amongst the ten (orators).” The phrase is difficult, though it probably refers, retrospectively and somewhat misleadingly, to the ten canonical orators of Classical Athens. Lollianus is praised for his oratorical skill in several other inscriptions, especially from Asia Minor, which suggests that the Athenian reference is more than mere flattery.18 In fact, the same designation is also ascribed to Lollianus in IG II 2 4217, the honorific decree issued by the Areopagus.19 In that inscription, τὸν ῥήτορα is centered and given emphatic position at the end of the text: it was clearly an important designation for Lollianus and his audience. The diction and the emphasis on Lollianus’ oratorical talent should be construed in the framework of the Second Sophistic.20 In line 5, Lollianus is called ἐπανορθωτής τῆς Ἑλλάδος (“corrector of Greece”), a slight variation on IG VII 2510, in which he is praised as ἐπανορθωτὴς Ἀχαΐας (“corrector of Achaea”). This imperial post was a relatively late creation that combined the office of the proconsul of Achaea and the Trajanic-Hadrianic “corrector of the free cities.”21 Note that in IG II 2 4217, the Areopagus makes no reference to the title ἐπανορθωτής, and instead, strangely, refers to Lollianus’ guardianship (κηδεµονία) of the city.22 Is there any significance in this phraseological variety? Strictly speaking, Athens was a civitas libera, i.e., not part of the province of Achaea, but of course, the very nature of the office of corrector 18 19 20

21 22

I.Smyrna 635, ll. 8–10, τόν µόνον καί πρῶτον τῶν ῥητόρων; SEG LIII 1327, l. 8: ῥητόρων τόν κράτιστον; SEG LIII 1328, ll. 11–12: ἀποδεδειγµένων ῥητόρων πρῶτον. See also Christol, Drew-Bear, and Taslialan 2003, 349, 352–53, 356–57. Full text of the inscription is given in note 12 above. Usually these texts give only a few vague details as to the identity and deeds of the honorand, but the emphasis on Lollianus’ oratorical skills is a constant. Apart from the aforementioned inscriptions, we have the well-known cognito Imperatoris Caracallae de Gohariensis (SEG XVII 759), in which Lollianus, still early in his career, is described as a rhetor-advocate in close connection with the imperial court and thus the emperor himself. Two copies of an exchange between Lollianus and Caracalla, preserved on papyri, attest to Lollianus’ public advocacy in Egypt (Oliver, Greek Constitutions, no. 267: P. Berol. inv. 7216; P. Mich. IX 529, 25–38). See Steinhauer 2008, 199–201, 208–9, for the bibliography. In general, most of the inscriptions attesting to σοφισταί or ῥήτορες date between 100 and 250, in the floruit of the Second Sophistic in the Greek East: see Puech 2002, 1–36, 151 (with specific reference to Lollianus). Oliver 1973, 403–5. See note 12 above for the text of IG II 2 4217. It should be noted that the term κηδεµονία finds an equivalent in the Latin term cura. A curator/κηδεµών was a similar official sent to deal with financial issues in Roman cities of Italy and the western provinces; cf. Burton 1979. I would like to thank the anonymous reader for bringing this parallel to my attention.

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rendered such distinctions obsolete. Still, the Athenian authorities might have preferred not to emphasize that the appointment of Lollianus qua-corrector somehow trespassed on their autonomous status, and hence described him as a guardian in one case (IG II 2 4217), and as corrector of Hellas, rather than Achaea, in the new inscription.23 Lines 6–7 record that Lollianus served as proconsul of Asia three times. As we have seen, he held this position from 242 to 245. Thus, these lines provide a secure terminus post quem for the date of the new inscription.24 From l. 7, we gain another important piece of information: Lollianus himself had become a member of the Areopagus. This line raises a new interpretative question for IG II 2 4217, the honors bestowed on Lollianus by that body. Either Lollianus’ εὔνοια towards the Areopagus should be seen as goodwill by the senator towards his fellow-Areopagites, or membership in the Areopagus was given to Lollianus in recognition of his services to the Council.25 In ll. 8–10, Lollianus is described as a member of the three most illustrious gene of Athens: the Eupatridai, the Praxiergidai, and the Eumolpidai. He is also described as “the most majestic expounder of the Two Goddesses.” As far as I know, Lollianus’ membership in multiple gene is unique, and possibly indicates the collapse of the strict criteria for genos membership of the past. In his classic monograph on Athenian religion, Robert Parker classified the Eupatridai as a spurious genos.26 While this was almost certainly the case in the Classical period, the new inscription suggests that, by the Imperial period, they had become a proper genos. The Praxiergidai were a well-known genos connected with the festival of the Plynteria.27 The new text offers the second Roman Imperial reference to this genos. The other reference is the roughly contemporary IG II 2 3678 (=I.Eleusis 588), in which, following a recommendation

23 24 25

26 27

Oliver 1980, 78 [1983, 148] has argued that the term Ἑλλάς/Graecia took on the technical meaning “of old free cities and leagues that were not part [of the province] of Achaea.” The contested issue of Lollianus’ career and his triple proconsulship of Asia was resolved by Loriot 1996, 221–27, who convincingly placed it from July 1, 242 until the end of June 245. Gehn 2016, 193, observes that “provincial governors boasting of their membership of one of the councils or of holding municipal office is a phenomenon unique to Athens. It highlights the city’s importance as the cradle of Greco-Roman culture.” This observation, made with specific reference to Late Antiquity, probably holds true for the Imperial period too. Parker, ARH, 323–24. Parker, ARH, 307–8.

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of the Council and upon receiving permission from the Areopagus, the Praxiergidai honor Sabeiniana Hamillo, priestess of Athena Polias.28 Lastly, through his membership in the genos of the Eumolpidai, Lollianus is connected with the Eleusinian Mysteries, since this genos provided one of the major sacred officials of the cult, the hierophant.29 Puech has aptly observed that orators of the Imperial period often held this post and other major Eleusinian offices, in part because orators enhanced the loftiness of these positions with their skills and theatrics.30 The Eumolpidai also provided the socalled “expounder from the Eumoplidae;” this must be the official called in the new text the “expounder of the Two Goddesses” (ll. 9–10).31 Here I should note that epigraphic evidence shows that another Roman magistrate, Marcus Gavius Gallicanus, proconsul of Asia around 200, was also honored as an Eumolpid at Eleusis (I.Eleusis 625). It seems that genos membership had become a diplomatic tool in the hands of the Athenians in their negotiations with top-ranking Roman officials. This is not to say that Lollianus’ Eleusinian connections were a mere formality. His relationship with Eleusis is also attested in I.Eleusis 643, mentioned above. While this edict is fragmentary, the name of Lollianus as consul and corrector has been very plausibly restored.32 The edict makes reference to landholdings, water supply, and some unspecified expenses. Although there are too many lacunae to make any definitive interpretation, one wonders whether the edict should be connected with Lollianus’ appointment as corrector of Achaea. The last section of the inscription (ll. 13–18) contains the reasoning behind the honors bestowed on Lollianus. Initially, he is praised effusively, although vaguely, as savior (σωτήρ), protector (προστάτης), and benefactor (εὐεργέτης) in everything. Subsequently, the inscription singles out a specific action: Lollianus had set up statues of men (ἀνάστασιν τῶν ἀνδριάντων) according to the resolution of the most august councils (κατὰ τὴν γνώµην τῶν σεµνο|τάτων συνεδρίων).33 IG II 2 4217 proves helpful in interpreting the initial, vague titles. As already noted, the Areopagites had praised Lollianus on account of his goodwill towards them and his guardianship of Athens. I think that the guardianship

28 29 30 31 32 33

Clinton plausibly suggests that the inscription might have been transferred to Eleusis from Athens (I.Eleusis II, 391). Parker, ARH, 293–97. Puech 2002, 23. Clinton, Sacred Officials, 89–93. I.Eleusis II, 411–12. An alternative interpretation—that Asklepiades Eurytidas had set up statues of Lollianus—does not seem to comply with the diction of the inscription.

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(κηδεµονία) in question explains Lollianus’ predicates, especially the prostates of the new inscription. Moreover, we can now see that Lollianus’ goodwill towards the Areopagus had a specific origin. I believe that the “most august councils,” the σεµνότατα συνέδρια of the new inscription, are none other than the main bodies of Roman Athens: the Council, the Areopagus, and probably, although not certainly, the Assembly. The term συνέδρια has been well analyzed by Geagan, who showed that the plural form appears with some frequency in inscriptions of the late second and third centuries.34 Our inscription reinforces this pattern. However, I would like to raise another possibility: the “most august councils” also included the Council of the Panhellenes.35 This suggestion may not seem very likely, given that the inscription primarily concerns Athenian affairs. I find some support for it in my earlier discussion about the premium Athenian officials placed on their independence, however nominal. The reference to setting up statues is most intriguing. The phrasing is not uncommon in inscriptions from the Roman East.36 However, in the vast majority of cases, the phrase refers to setting up one statue, ἀνδριάντος. The plural is even more interesting because we are not told whose statues were set up. Overall, it seems to have been a large-scale project, perhaps even involving statues of the imperial family. Unfortunately, the question cannot be resolved on the basis of the extant evidence. The two closing lines of the inscription pose a problem: in connection with the ἀνάστασιν τῶν ἀνδριάντων, the verb ἐπολιτεύσατο is used rather than the expected ἐποιήσατο.37 This could be a mistake made by the stone-cutter, in which case one could emend ἐπολιτεύσατο to ἐπο{λ}ι{τευ}⟨ή⟩σατο. Alternatively, the verb πολιτεύοµαι in the middle voice can have the meaning “arrange” or “administer” (LSJ 9 s.v. B.II). I have a very slight preference for this solution, although I cannot exclude the possibility of an error. As I have already suggested, the new inscription dates after 245, when Lollianus held the proconsulship of Asia for one third and last time. The absence of any reference to his holding the office of praefectus urbi might indicate that 254 is the terminus ante quem, although one could argue that the 34 35 36 37

Geagan 1967, 36–38. The bibliography on the Panhellenion is vast: see, e.g., Spawforth and Walker 1985; Spawforth 1999. We have many examples from Phrygia, Pisidia, Magnesia, Thrace, the Aegean islands, and mainland Greece. Α cursory glance at similar inscriptions shows that the middle ποιοῦµαι is standard in this context. For example, SEG LVII 1440 from Pisidia reads: τὴν δὲ ἀν̣άστασιν τῶν ἀνδριάντων ἐποιήσατο Αὐρ(ηλία) Ἄρτεµεις ἡ καὶ Περίκλεια vacat ἡ θυγάτηρ.

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Roman office might have been omitted simply because it was of no relevance to the Athenians. At any rate, the statue and its base had a rather short lifespan. They were probably damaged by the Herulians in 267. The brightly colored letters further demonstrate that the base was not exposed for very long. We can only speculate about what happened to the statue of Lollianus, but his base had a long afterlife. Built into the Post-Herulian wall, it remained hidden for more than 17 centuries. Its discovery in the early 21st century increases our knowledge of the career of a prominent Roman magistrate of the crucial third century. The study and full publication of the other inscribed bases from the “Aiolos” will further contribute to our knowledge of Roman Athens. Bibliography Barbieri, G. 1952. L’ albo senatorio da Settimio Severo a Carino (193–285). Rome. Bouras, C. 2010. Βυζαντινή Αθήνα, 10ος-12ος αι. Athens. Burton, G.P. 1979. “The curator rei publicae: Towards a Reappraisal.” Chiron 9: 465–87. Byrne, S.G. 2003. Roman Citizens of Athens. Leuven. Chausson, F. 1997. “Les Egnatii et l’ aristocratie italienne des Iie—Ive siècles.” JS 2: 211–311. Christol, M. 1986. Essai sur l’évolution des carrières sénatoriales dans la seconde moitié du IIIe siècle ap. JC. Paris. Christol, M., T. Drew-Bear, and M. Taslialan. 2003. “Lucius Egnatius Victor Lollianus, proconsul d’ Asie.” Anatolia Antiqua 11: 343–59. Costaki, L. 2006. The intra muros Road System of Ancient Athens. Ph.D. dissertation, Toronto. Dietz, K.-H. 1980. Senatus contra principem. Untersuchungen zur senatorischen Opposition gegen Kaiser Maximinus Thrax. Munich. Ficuciello, L. 2008. Le strade di Atene. Athens and Paestum. Follet, S. 1976. Athènes au IIe et au IIIe siècle: études chronologiques et prosopographiques. Paris. Geagan, D.J. 1967. The Athenian Constitution after Sulla. Princeton. Gehn, U. 2016. “Athens.” In R.R.R. Smith and B. Ward-Perkins (eds.), The Last Statues of Antiquity, 190–99. Oxford. Haensch, R. 2005. “L. Egnatius Victor Lollianus: La rhétorique, la religion et le pouvoir.” In A. Vigourt et al (eds.), Pouvoir et religion dans le monde Roman. En hommage à Jean-Pierre Martin, 289–301. Paris. Herrmann, P. and H. Malay. 2003. “Statue Bases of the mid Third Century A. D. from Smyrna.” EA 36: 1–11.

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Leunissen, P.M.M. 1989. Konsuln und Konsulare in der Zeit von Commodus bis Severus Alexander (180–235 n. Chr.): prosopographische Untersuchungen zu senatorischen Elite im römischen Kaiserreich. Amsterdam. Loriot, X. 1996. “Sur la datation du Proconsulat d’ Asie de L. Egnatius Victor Lollianus.” In A. Chastagnol, S. Demougin, and C. Lepelley (eds.), Splendidissima Civitas: Études d’ histoire romaine en hommage à François Jacques, 221–29. Sorbonne. Magie, D. 1950. Roman rule in Asia Minor, to the end of the third century after Christ. Princeton. Malacrino, C.G. 2014. “L’ edifizio di od. Adrianou (cd. Pantheon).” In E. Greco (ed.), Topografia di Atene. Sviluppo urbano e monumenti dalle origini al III secolo d.C. Quartieri a nord e a nord–est dell’Acropoli e Agora del Ceramico, 753–56. Athens and Paestum. Mennen, I. 2011. Power and Status in the Roman Empire, AD 193–284. Leiden and Boston. Oliver, J.H. 1973. “Imperial Commissioners in Achaia.” GRBS 14: 389–405. Oliver, J.H. 1980. “Achaia, Greece, and Laconia.” GRBS 21: 75–81. Reprinted in J.H. Oliver, The Civic Tradition and Roman Athens, 147–53. Baltimore and London. Puech, B. 2002. Orateurs ét sophistes grecs dans les inscriptions d’ époque imperiale. Paris. Salomies, O. 2001. “Honorific Inscriptions for Roman Senators in the Greek East during the Empire. Some Aspects (with Special Reference to Cursus Inscriptions).” In The Greek East in the Roman Context, 141–87. Settipani, C. 2000. Continuité gentilice et continuité familiale dans les familles sénatoriales romaines à l’époque impériale : mythe et réalité. Oxford. Shear, J.L. 2007. “Reusing statues, rewriting inscriptions and bestowing honours in Roman Athens.” In Z. Newby and R. Leader-Newby (eds.), Art and Inscriptions in the Ancient World, 221–46. Cambridge. Sourlas, D. 2011. “Ανασκαφική έρευνα στο ξενοδοχείο «Αίολος» επί των οδών Αιόλου 3–5 και Αδριανού 64”. ADeltion 66, Chronika Β1: 46–63. Sourlas, D. 2012. “Εργασίες αποµάκρυνσης των ενεπίγραφων βάθρων στη συµβολή των οδών Αιόλου 3–5 και Αδριανού 64 (Ξενοδοχείο Αίολος)”. ΑDeltion 67, Chronika Β1: 35–37. Sourlas, D. 2013. “Πρόσφατες αρχαιολογικές έρευνες στη Ρωµαϊκή Αγορά στη Βιβλιοθήκη του Αδριανού και τις όµορες περιοχές.” In S. Oikonomou and S. Dogka-Toli (eds.), Αρχαιολογικές Συµβολές. Τόµος Β: Αττική. A΄ και Γ΄ Εφορείες Προϊστορικών και Κλασικών Αρχαιοτήτων, 149–68. Athens. Sourlas, D. 2014a. “The Monument within the Monument. Preliminary Results of the Excavation at the ‘Aiolos’ Hotel in Plaka, Athens.” In L.M. Caliò, E. Lippolis, and V. Parisi (eds.), Gli Ateniesi e il loro modello di città, 299–306. Rome. Sourlas, D. 2014b. “Die Hadriansbibliothek in Athen. Ein historisch-archäologischer Überblick”, AW 6: 20–26. Spawforth, A.J. 1999. “The Panhellenion Again.” Chiron 29: 339–52.

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Spawforth, A.J., and S. Walker 1985. “The World of the Panhellenion. I. Athens and Eleusis.” JRS 75: 78–104. Steinhauer, G. 2008. “Αυτοκρατορική µέριµνα για την Τροιζήνα.” In Mikros Hieromnemon, 193–210. Theocharake, A.M. 2015. Τα αρχαία τείχη των Αθηνών. Athens. Thomasson, B.E. 1984. Laterculi Praesidum I. Gothenburg. Travlos, J. 1960. Ἡ πολεοδοµικὴ ἐξέλιξις τῶν Ἀθηνῶν. Athens. Travlos, J. 1988. “The Post-Herulian Wall.” In A. Frantz (ed.), The Athenian Agora XXIV: Late Antiquity: A.D. 267–700, 125–41. Princeton. Ward-Perkins, B. 2016. “Statues at the end of antiquity. The evidence from the inscribed bases.” In R.R.R. Smith and B. Ward-Perkins (eds.), The Last Statues of Antiquity, 28– 40. Oxford.

Chapter 22

Four Unpublished Inscriptions (and One Neglected Collector) from the World Museum, Liverpool Peter Liddel and Polly Low Introduction1 In this essay, we present four Greek inscriptions which are in the possession of the World Museum, Liverpool (UK). They have been held in this collection since 1890, but have not yet been systematically studied or previously published.2 The 17 documents in the city of Liverpool form (by our current estimate) the fourth largest collection of Greek inscriptions on stone in the United Kingdom.3 About half of them (which are part of the Ince Blundell collection) have a history that fits well into the conventional narrative of British antiquitycollecting: that is, a pursuit indulged in by actual or aspiring members of the aristocratic elite, who found in ancient marbles an outlet (or a channel) for their various anxieties about status, prestige, and the conspicuous display of

1 We owe a great deal of thanks to the former and current curators of antiquities at the Liverpool Museum, Gina Muskett and Chrissy Partheni. For discussions on these texts we are grateful to Dan Dana, Madelina Dana, Stephen Mitchell, Nikolaos Papazarkadas, Charlotte Roueché, Peter Thonemann, and those who offered helpful advice at the 2nd NACGLE meeting and the Liverpool research seminar. All images courtesy National Museums Liverpool (World Museum). 2 The only previous published reference to the inscriptions appears in the 1891 Annual Report of the Committee of the Free Public Library, Museum, and the Walker Art Gallery of the City of Liverpool, 38: 26–27. Vermeule and von Bothmer do not appear to have seen any of them on their visit to the William Brown St. Museum in June 1956 (Vermeule and von Bothmer 1959: 161, noting bomb damage to the collection). No. 4 was, however, according to the Museum Register and the 1891 Annual Report of the Committee of the Free Public Library, known— perhaps by way of personal communication—to A. Michaelis (author of Michaelis 1882). The Guard Book of the Museum preserves rubbings of this inscription which demonstrate that it was studied at some point, probably in the late nineteenth century. 3 See Liddel and Low 2015, publishing a hitherto unknown decree of the Phrikyladai, an otherwise unattested private organisation from Erythrae; the inscription was once in the collection of one of Liverpool’s prominent ship-owning families, the MacIvers.

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both wealth and learning.4 But the four inscriptions we publish here reflect a rather different form of antiquarianism. According to the Museum Register, these four inscriptions were collected ‘on the site of the ancient town of Cyzicus’ and were donated to the Liverpool Museum in January 1890 by a certain Captain Ferguson (along with a small group of other, non-inscribed, antiquities).5 An employee of the Cunard Line, Ferguson was from 1885 to 1890 the commander of the S.S. Aleppo; on this ship he made numerous trips from Liverpool to the Eastern Mediterranean. Which of those journeys provided the opportunity for him to collect these inscriptions is unknown, but it appears that his donation to the Liverpool Museum coincided with a change in the focus of his career: in May 1890, Ferguson made his last voyage on the S.S. Aleppo, and was promoted to Cunard’s North Atlantic routes.6 We might speculate, then, either that on one of his final voyages to the region he took the opportunity to go on a souvenir-hunt among the ruins of Cyzicus,7 or that the donation represented the culmination of a gradual process of collection over the previous half decade. In either case, we suggest that these four inscriptions shed new light on a non-elite and rather neglected strand of British antiquity collecting in the nineteenth century, one which deserves further exploration.8 4 On the Ince Blundell collection, see Vaughan 1989, Southworth 1991 and Bartman 2017: 2–23. On the antiquity-collecting habits of the British aristocracy more generally, see Guilding 2014. 5 These are listed in the museum Register as the following: a piece of Roman mosaic; a face from the head of a figure; and ‘part of a standing female figure in white marble, at the feet of which is seated a sow’. 6 Captain John Ferguson (1838–1900): achieved Certificate of Competency, 1872; promoted to rank of Captain, 1882; Captain of S.S. Aleppo, 1885–90; last recorded voyage, 1899. (Lloyds ‘Captains Registers,’ London Metropolitan Archives, MS 18567). He was reported to have been ‘one of the most well-liked commanders of the Cunard fleet’ (Liverpool Mercury, ‘Nautical Jottings,’ 16th July 1892). 7 For the ruinous condition of Cyzicus from the eighteenth century onwards, see Hasluck 1910: 56; Greenhalgh 2013: 115; Meyer 2014; for the larger and grander collection of Cyzicene inscriptions at the Louvre, see Laugier 2014. 8 On middle-class culture in nineteenth-century Liverpool, see Wilson 1999. Particularly important in shaping this culture were two societies: the Royal Institution (founded in 1814; on its history and activities, see Ormerod 1953) and the Literary and Philosophical Society (founded in 1812). Both societies had interests in Classical Antiquity, and in the study of inscriptions: the Royal Institution’s collection of antiquities included two Greek inscriptions (TAM II 261, CIG 2655; both now in the Garstang Museum, University of Liverpool); for an example of the Literary and Philosophical Society’s epigraphic interests, see Yates 1855. Capt. Ferguson was elected as a Corresponding Member of the Society in 1890 (the same year as his donation to the Liverpool Museum).

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In this publication, however, we focus on the inscriptions themselves. The only information on their provenance comes from the Museum Register’s note that they were brought from Cyzicus; this city may in fact have been their original place of production and display, but the accumulation at Cyzicus of epigraphic materials from Mysia over the course of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries means that they may have originated from further afield.9 1

Small stele with Relief of a Bull: Liverpool, World Museum, 14.1.90.4 (Fig. 22.1)

1.1 Description Stele of white/gray marble, now darkened and worn. In the recessed panel there is a moulded representation of a quadruped with prominent fore- and hind-thighs. The triangular pediment contains a star-shaped whitened area, which is perhaps the ghost of a painted or moulded decoration such as a bull’s head. Letters: 13–16 mm, with those of the first line at the smaller end of the range. Dimensions: h. 28 cm; w. 16.5 cm (top), 15.0 cm (bottom); th. 4.3 (top), 6.5 (bottom). 1.2 Museum Register Entry ‘Sepulchral Tablet? in white marble, in form of an arch, on which is figure of a bull, below are traces of a Greek inscription.’ 1.3 Date The letter forms suggest 3rd century CE or later. If so, this inscription would be the latest attestation of Zeus Olbios in Mysia.10 1.4

Text ∆̣ ι ̣[ὶ] θε̣ῷ̣ Λ̣ Ὀλ̣ βίῳ εὐ-χήν.

1.5 Translation ‘To Zeus God Olbios, a vow.’

9 10

Habicht 2014: 168. Drexhage 2003.

FOUR UNPUBLISHED INSCRIPTIONS FROM THE WORLD MUSEUM

Figure 22.1

411

Small stele with relief of a bull: (a) full view; (b) detail of inscribed panel: Liverpool, World Museum, 14.1.90.4. Images copyright National Museums Liverpool (World Museum). All rights reserved

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1.6 Discussion Although the text is hard to read because the stone is worn, a digitallyadjustable image facilitated transcription. The first line is especially challenging. The marks that resemble a lambda at the start of line 2 may be the result of later damage. The Museum Register’s identification of the quadruped represented in the relief as a bull makes good sense. The iconography of an elaborately-decorated votive stele from Mysia (Bey 1908) set up by a priest of Zeus Olbios as a eucharisterion makes clear the association of the cult with images of bulls and bullsacrifice. Where the Register is wrong, we think, is in characterising the stone as a ‘sepulchral tablet.’ Our reading of the text demonstrates that the object is an inscribed votive or dedication. Dedications to Zeus and Theos Olbios are well-attested on inscriptions from the area of Cyzicus. It is thought that this cult had at least three sites in Mysia, though it is impossible to say at which of them this inscription originated.11 The dedication specifically to ‘Zeus Theos Olbios’ is paralleled on an altar, decorated with a relief of a bull’s head, from the district of Cyzicus.12 The dedication of an euche to a deity (in the dative) is well attested. The phrase may refer to a vow made in the hope that a deity would carry out some favourable act.13 It is possible that, by setting up this inscription, the anonymous dedicant was vowing to sacrifice a bull on the fulfilment of some condition. We are left guessing as to what this condition might be, but, given that this stele was dedicated to a cult of Zeus Olbios (Zeus ‘the Blesséd’ or a Zeus who dispenses blessings), it seems reasonable to conclude that it was related to the dedicant’s, or his family’s, prosperity or agricultural productivity.14

11 12 13 14

See Bey 1908; Coll. Froehner; Drexhage 2003 (collecting documents from Mysia pertaining to the cult). For discussion of CIG 2017 (= Drexhage’s no. 7), see now Crowther 2010: 466, who discusses the locations of three Mysian cults of Zeus Olbios. Hasluck 1905: 56 no. 4 = Drexhage 2003 no. 11. For discussion of the term, see Lazzarini 1989–90: 850, who suggests that it refers to the formulation and fulfilment of a promise. For similar views, see Burkert 1985: 68–69; Keesling, 2003: 4–5; Patera 2012: 48–49, 60. Bey suggested (1908: 523) that Zeus Olbios was related to the fertility of the land; Drexhage’s 2003 collection suggests slightly different motives: worshippers dedicate to Zeus Olbios on behalf of health (Drexhage no. 2), their personal belongings (no. 3), their personal safely ‘and the cows (no. 4), themselves and their offspring’ (nos. 6, 10, and 12).

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2

413

Altar of Aphrodite: Liverpool, World Museum, 14.1.90.5 (Fig. 22.2)

2.1 Description Small altar of white/gray marble, slightly blackened. Part of a moulding at the top survives, but is broken at front. The underside of the altar is worn away, and the original lower surface is lost; what survives of the lettering is clear. Letters: 12 mm (omicron) – 22 mm (phi) Dimensions: h. 13.3 cm; w. 14.3; th. 12.6. 2.2 Museum Register Entry ‘Part of an Altar? in white marble, with votive inscription dedicated by Epaphras son of Na’-os, to the Venus of the Harbour.’ 2.3 Date Second century CE or later (letter forms). 2.4

Text Ἀφροδείτῃ Λιµενίᾳ Ἐπαφρᾶς ΝΑ[..]Ο̣ Σ

Figure 22.2

Altar of Aphrodite: Liverpool, World Museum, 14.1.90.5. Image copyright National Museums Liverpool (World Museum). All rights reserved

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2.5 Translation ‘To Aphrodite of the Harbour. Epaphras son of Na - - -on?’ 2.6 Discussion The precise identity of the dedicant of this altar provides the major textual uncertainty. Ἐπαφρᾶς (a common name, but as yet unattested in Mysia) is fairly clear, but what comes after is less so: we can see ΝΑ at the end of line 3, and Ο̣ Σ at the end of line 4; there is probably space for up to three letters at the start of that line. One possibility is that this is a patronymic, and that lines 3–4 might be restored Νά|[σων]ος, i.e. the ‘son of Nason’, though this is perhaps too long for the available space at the start of line 3.15 Alternatively, we might restore an ethnic Νά|[ξι]ος’ (i.e., ‘the Naxian’), which would be a better fit.16 Cult activity for Aphrodite is well-attested at Cyzicus, both epigraphically and archaeologically.17 But this inscription offers something new: it is the first attestation of a cult of Aphrodite Limenia, or ‘Aphrodite of the Harbour,’ at Cyzicus.18 This cult is known elsewhere.19 Given Cyzicus’ important position as a nodal point in ancient trading networks,20 it is perhaps no surprise to find this cult also attested in this city. As noted above, we lack detailed information about the findspot of this inscription, but it seems plausible that this monument might originally have stood in or near one of Cyzicus’ two harbours.21

15

16 17 18 19 20 21

Cf. I.Kyz. 466, a memorial set up by Nason to his wife, found at Balikli, dated by LGPN to the ‘imperial period’). Other possibilities include Ναίων-Ναίωνος (Teos, 2nd c. BCE, LGPN Va), Νάπων-Νάπωνος (Sinope, 3rd c. BCE, LGPN Va), or Νάνων-Νάνωνος (Chersonese, late 4th c. BCE, LGPN IV). Ναύσων-Ναύσωνος (Sinope, 5th–4th c. BCE, LGPN Va) or Ναύτων-Ναύτωνος (Stolos, Macedonia, 4th c. BCE, LGPN IV) can be excluded on the grounds that they probably would not fit in the space available. Epaphras is not attested as a personal name in Naxos, but is found elsewhere in the Cyclades (on Amorgos, Paros and Thera: see LGPN I s.v. Ἐπαφρᾶς). Hasluck 1910: 236, 275 no. 70; generally, see Greaves 2004: 30 and Thély 2014: 187. The head of Aphrodite appeared on coins of Cyzicus in the fourth century: Head 1911: 535–36. However, there is evidence at Cyzicus for dedications by a merchants’ guild to Poseidon and Aphrodite Pontia (of the Sea): Hasluck 1910: 275 no. 70. On Aphrodite Limenia at Hermione (as a cult of Pontia and Limenia), see Paus. 2.34.11; Dunbabin 1951: 62 n. 8. Cf. Dana 2014. Cf. Strabo 12.8.11. On the harbour area, see Avram 2004: 985 and Vecchio 2011: 207–24 (discussing the creation of an artificial harbour in addition to the two natural harbours) with SEG LXI 1022.

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415

A Christian acclamation: Liverpool, World Museum, 14.1.90.6 (Fig. 22.3)

3.1 Description Block of white marble, darkened with dust. A chunk has been cut away from its upper right-hand side. Letters: 40 mm (omega) – 57 mm (tau) Dimensions: h. 42.5 cm; w. 44.0 cm (top) – 50.0 cm (bottom); th. 20.0 cm 3.2 Museum Register Entry ‘Slab of White Marble with Christian Inscription.’ 3.3 Date 5th century CE or later (letter forms).22 3.4 Text For assistance in deciphering and interpreting the text, we are indebted to Stephen Mitchell and Peter Thonemann. † νίκᾷ ἡ τύχι τῶν ⟦π̣ [ρασ]⟧(ίνων) αἰεί. 3.5 Apparatus Criticus Lines 2–3: τῶν ⟦π̣ [ρ]⟧|ασ(ίνων) † (Thonemann). 3.6 Notes (i) Line 1: the mark between the base of diagonals was probably the product of later damage to the stone rather than an iota written subscript. (ii) Lines 1–2: τύχι is an iotacised version of τύχη.23 (iii) Line 3: our αἰεί relies on the identification of an iota written subscript beneath the alpha and the next symbol as a ligature combining epsilon and iota.

22 23

Cf. Cameron, 1976: 196. Cf. MacLean, 2002: 350.

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A Christian acclamation: Liverpool, World Museum, 14.1.90.6. Image copyright National Museums Liverpool (World Museum). All rights reserved

3.7 Translation ‘† The fortune of the Greens is triumphant always!’ Or (PT): ‘†The fortune of the Greens is triumphant! †’ 3.8 Discussion Although the block of the third inscription lacks features which would enable us to determine its function, the text itself represents another fairly wellattested genre of inscription—an acclamation by partisans of a Circus Faction. From the late fifth century CE onwards, partisans of the Circus Factions, that is, the sponsors of entertainment and supporters of the Blues and Greens chariotracing teams, made written proclamations of the glories of their teams. These inscriptions are known in cities which played host to the chariot racing, such

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as Aphrodisias, Miletus and Alexandria.24 This is the first known example from Cyzicus, though other activity relating to the Factions is attested in the city.25 The letters, although rather untidy and inconsistently formed, are fairly clear. However, there appears to be an erasure or overwrite of the text after the τῶν of line 2. It is plausible that what was originally carved here was the genitive form of the name of one of the factions: the obvious candidates would be τῶν βενέτων (Blues) or τῶν πρασίνων (Greens). We suspect an abbreviated form of the latter because of what appear to be the remains of the right vertical of a pi in the erased section of line 2 (for which we suggest ⟦π̣ [ρασ]⟧).26 It might be the case that a rival faction obliterated the Greens’ name at some point after it was inscribed. Competitive erasure is attested at Aphrodisias in the same sort of text.27 Reading αἰεί in the third line relies on reading a (fairly clear) subscript iota beneath the alpha, and on taking the next symbol as a ligature combining epsilon and iota. If we accept this, then the text would originally have read: νικᾷ ἡ τύχι τῶν πρασ(ίνων) αἰεί (‘the fortune of the Greens is triumphant always!’). An alternative, as Peter Thonemann suggests to us, per epistulam, is that the abbreviated faction name ran originally into the third line. In line 3, he proposes an alpha followed by a lunate sigma, partially obscured by a cross inscribed over it. This would point to the possibility of τῶν ⟦π̣ [ρ]⟧|ασ(ίνων)† in lines 2–3: the text would then translate as ‘the fortune of the Greens is triumphant.’ This reading has the advantage of not requiring our hypothetical ligature in line 3; but it makes the erasure in line 2 harder to explain, given that there was evidently no attempt to erase line 3 (unless we want to see it simply as ineffectual

24

25 26

27

On Circus Factions and their acclamations, see Cameron 1976: 196 (with a summary of the material at 314–17) and Roueché 1993: 143–56; for examples of inscribed acclamations for the factions at Aphrodisias, see Roueché 1989 nos. 181–86 including several examples of the formula νικᾷ ἡ τύχη τῶν Πρασίνων; 181 iii contains such a formula preceded by a (Christian) cross. In 541 CE, according to Procopius, a particularly harsh Bishop was murdered in the agora by certain youths (De bellis 1.25.37–39); four years later two members of the Prasinoi were found guilty of partaking in the rising (Secret History 18.41). The abbreviation ‘πρασ’ for ‘πρασίνων’ is (to our knowledge) not otherwise attested (‘πρασίν’ is the more common abbreviation, as, e.g., Roueché 1989 nos 179, 181x). But abbreviations used for the Blues suggest that variation is possible: Βενέτ(ο̣υ̣) in Roueché 1989 no. 180iv vs Βενέ(των) in Roueché 1989 no. 180v. Roueché 1993: 101 no. 46B (= Roueché 1989 no. 181i), reading ‘ν̣ι ̣κᾷ ἡ τύχη τ̣ῶ̣ν̣ ⟦Πρασ⟧ίνων’.

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vandalism).28 Moreover, it does not take into account the very clear subscript iota beneath the alpha of line 3.29 As Chaniotis notes, such inscribed acclamations express group solidarity,30 but the act of erasure suggests aggressive competition between those groups. Regardless of which faction wrote the text in the first place, and who defaced it, the inscription alludes to vigorous activity in Cyzicus in this late period, and fierce competition between partisans of the Circus Factions there. Constantine’s decision to make Byzantium capital of the East in the early fourth century CE was, as Hasluck notes, ‘a great blow to Cyzicene prosperity,’31 but this text suggests that it did not curtail all civic activity (or rivalry) among those in the city. 4

Re-worked Slab with Incised Feet: Liverpool, World Museum, 14.1.90.7 (Fig. 22.4)

4.1 Description A slab of white marble etched with the outlines of twelve feet, some of which appear to be pairs. All the feet but one contain inscribed names. The upper face of the slab was remoulded when re-used. Its shape and the circular cutting in the middle suggest it might have been reworked for use as a grindstone; however, the relative lack of wear on the surface would militate against this explanation; it is more likely that it was re-used as a base for some separate object (the hole does not seem to be deep enough to constitute a dowel-cutting for a column base). Letters: Smallest (Foot 8): 4.5 mm (omicron)–6 mm (tau) Largest (Foot 7): 17 mm (upsilon)–20.5 mm (rho) Feet: Foot 6: width 5.7 cm (max); length 15 cm. Foot 7: width 8.5 cm (max); length 23 cm. Dimensions: Base: height (maximum): 30.0 cm; width: 61.0 cm; depth: 74.0 cm. Drum: diameter 59.0–60.0 cm. 28 29 30 31

We should note, however, that the erasure in the example from Aphrodisias (above, n.27), is also only partial. Dr Thonemann made suggestions on the basis of a digital image sent to him by email; we offer notice of them here as a way of acknowledging his generous assistance. Chaniotis 2011: 202–3. Hasluck 1910: 192.

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Figure 22.4

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Re-worked slab with incised feet: Liverpool, World Museum, 14.1.90.7. Image copyright National Museums Liverpool (World Museum). All rights reserved

4.2 Museum Register Entry ‘Large piece of white marble, on the upper surface is an outline of several human feet, inside of which (in some cases) is a Greek inscription. This piece has been sounded like the base of a pillar at a later period. For illustrations of same kind of specimen see the “Museum Worsleyanum” vol 1.’ ‘A memorial of a pilgrimage to some sanctuary, made by those persons the names of whom are written on the feet. A. Michaelis.’ 4.3 Date 3rd century CE (cf. CIG 3665, an ephebic list) or later. The variety of letter forms suggests that it might have been inscribed over a long period of time.

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Traces of an over-write (or erasure?) in foot 2 suggest that the some of the feet may have been re-inscribed at some point. 4.4 Text Foot 1 (left of pair): —Υ —ΝΟΣ HΒH (?) Foot 2 (right of pair): Ἀθῆνος HΒH (?) Foot 3 (left of pair): Ποτάµων Foot 4 (right of pair): Εὐφήµου Foot 5 (left of pair): Ἀ⟨ρ⟩τεµίδωρο Foot 6 (right of pair): Ἱέρωνος Foot 7 (solo left foot): Μηνόφιλος Ꝋ Βωρεύς Foot 8 (solo left foot): Συνφέρο⟨ν⟩τος Foot 9 (solo left foot): [Σα]βείνου τοῦ Σαβείνου

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Foot 10 (left of pair): vacat Foot 11 (right of pair): ΣΩΙ Foot 12 (solo left foot): Χρῆστος 4.5 Notes (i) In the final line of foot 2, there is an over-write (or erasure?) of other letters: a lambda, other traces, and a sigma are visible. (ii) For the symbol in Foot 7 (here marked as a Ꝋ), see discussion below. (iii) Prosopographical and onomastic notes. None of those named can be firmly identified with specific individuals; but most—though not all—of these names are already attested in Cyzicus: Foot 2: For an example of the name Athenos at Cyzicus see IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 1542 of the 1st c. CE. Feet 3 and 4: Potamon is widely attested: LGPN Va has c. 17 examples from Cyzicus (no son of Euphemos is listed); Euphemos is also well attested (4 examples from Cyzicus). Foot 5: Atemidoros is not otherwise attested. Τhis is therefore almost certainly an error for Artemidoros (674 attestations in LGPN Va, including two appearances in other foot-inscriptions from Cyzicus: IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 1506, 1509; no other example of this spelling/carving error), hence our epigraphic transcription. The form here might be a nominative with missing sigma (with the name in Foot 6 its patronymic?), or a genitive with missing upsilon (cf. Feet 8 and 9). Foot 6: Hieron has 60 instances in LGPN Va (three from Cyzicus). Foot 7: Menophilos is well-attested (354 instances in LGPN Va; there are c. 49 examples from Cyzicus). ‘Boreus’ is not attested as a personal name; for discussion, see below. Foot 8: presumably to be read as Συνφέρο⟨ν⟩τος (i.e. with second nu either lost or omitted). Both Synpheron and Sympheron are known in Mysian inscriptions. The genitive here presumably indicates ownership (of the foot) rather than a patronymic. Foot 9: Sabeinos is widely attested in this Greek form (though this seems to be the first attestation at Cyzicus). Foot 12: 109 instances of Chrestos are listed in LGPN Va, including 8 from Cyzicus.

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4.6 Discussion This is the most substantial of our inscriptions, and also one for which there are a number of good parallels—primarily, although perhaps not exclusively, associated with Cyzicus.32 There is variety in terms of the letter forms (particularly in the shapes of the epsilons, sigmas, and omegas), suggesting that the feet were certainly inscribed by different letter cutters and in all likelihood over the course of a considerable period of time; the style and level of detail of the inscribed feet also vary. Some of the feet appear to be etched in matching pairs (feet 1+2, 3+4, 5+6, 10+11: foot 10 is incompletely drawn and lacks a name) but others individually (feet 7, 8, 9, 12).33 Names sometimes appear in the nominative (feet 2, 3, 7, 12 and possibly foot 5), but sometimes in the genitive (feet 4, 6, 8, 9 and possibly feet 1 and 5). This kind of mixture of cases also appears in the other examples of this type of inscription, but its interpretation is not completely straightforward. It is plausible that, in the case of paired feet 3+4 and 5+6, the genitive in the right-hand foot should be read as a patronymic (with the individual name in the nominative in the left-hand foot); but it is also possible (and necessary, in cases where genitive is used in a solo foot, as in foot 8) that the genitive indicates ownership (that is: indicating something like ‘this is the foot of x or y’). Certainly, the paired set 1+2 must refer to two individuals who, for some reason, wanted to be commemorated as a single unit.34 Feet 10 (blank) + 11 (partial name) appear to be incomplete in terms both of drawing and inscription. 32

33

34

We are aware of 13 examples which are very similar in form to our inscription. 7 of these were found at or near Cyzicus: IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 1510, 1512, 1515, 1516, 1520, 1523, 1538. A further 5 were found in the gymnasium at Byzantium (IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 1507, 1508, 1509, 1513, 1519); one more was discovered at Büyükçekmece, in the suburbs of Istanbul (IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 1506; for details of its findspot, see Taşlıklıoğlu 1971: 51). The editors of IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ suggest that these last six examples all originated from Cyzicus (presumably drawing on an argument originally set out by Mordtmann 1881: 121–2, and generally accepted since: see, e.g., Hasluck 1910: 293; Robert, Ét. anat.: 201). We cannot disprove this idea, but it is also possible that this particular epigraphic habit was a regional practice rather than one unique to Cyzicus. This mixture of solo and paired feet is also visible in other inscriptions of this type: for example, IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 1506 has at least three pairs of feet and at least two solo feet. In other examples, all feet are pairs (e.g. IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 1508), or all are solo (e.g. of IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 1507). Solo feet can be either right or left: there is no consistent pattern between inscriptions, although individual inscriptions do tend to prefer either solo left or solo right feet. This style of paired commemoration (of two individuals in a single pair of feet) is clearly attested in other cases: e.g. IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 1508, in which four names (all in the genitive) are recorded in two pairs of feet; an accompanying inscription makes it explicit that these are the names of four individuals. The same pattern is visible in IMT Kyz. Kapu

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There has been some debate about the intended purpose of these inscriptions.35 Dethier and Mordtmann, who published the first substantial set of examples, initially suggested that these monuments were either funerary (with the footprints representing the traces of the deceased),36 or (in the case of the later examples) monuments to early Christian martyrs (intended to encourage later generations to, literally, follow in their footsteps),37 or records of a pilgrimage to a sanctuary.38 Dethier and Mordtmann made this last suggestion on the basis of a proposal made by Boeckh in his publication of another Cyzicene example (CIG 6845 = IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 1515). As noted above, the same interpretation was applied to our inscription by the author of the Museum Register.39 Mordtmann later argued that the names belonged to ephebes or neoi, and that the inscriptions functioned as ‘ein Art Album, ähnlich wie die Schulbänke, Carcerwände für die modernen Gymnasien.’40 This suggestion seems to us the most plausible interpretation of this type of inscription, particularly because additional texts accompany several of these examples and make it clear that they are intended to commemorate the activities of the neoi (for example, IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 1508, ll.4–6: ‘τῶν φίλω[ν] ἀδελφῶν µέµνη[σ]θε οἱ νέοι’).41 Our

35

36 37 38 39

40 41

Dağ 1509, 1510, 1513. Forbes (1933: 58) suggests that the pairing indicates ‘chums who had come in the course of many years of close association to feel a brotherly affection for each other.’ On the implications of inscribing feet in general, see Conze 1865: 31–34 (discussing only inscribed examples) and Dunbabin 1990 (including other monumental and artistic representations). Among their many possible meanings are: thank-offerings for acts of healing (Conze 1865: 33) or other votive offerings (Dunbabin 1990: 88–95); records of epiphanies (Dunbabin 1990: 85); markers in changing rooms intended to show or instruct people where to remove (or replace) their shoes (Dunbabin 1990: 99–102); euphemistic representations of sexual activity (Taylor 2011: 96). For other possible interpretations, see the discussion below. In general (as Dunbabin notes: 107) the significance of an inscribed foot is highly context-dependent. Dethier and Mordtmann 1864: 73, 81–82. Dethier and Mordtmann 1864: 74–75, 81–82. Dethier and Mordtmann 1864: 82–84. Boeckh was following a suggestion made in the editio princeps of the text: Worsley 1824: vol.1, 41; it seems (from the wording of the Museum Register entry) that it was this example, and Worsley’s interpretation of it, which informed the Museum’s cataloguing of our inscription. Worsley’s suggestion was made on the basis of the (then) closest known parallel, I.Philae 188 (= CIG 4946), which is explicitly a memorial of a pilgrimage to a temple of Isis. But the Egyptian inscription is quite different in both form and content from our example. The texts discovered later (listed above: n.32) provide much closer comparanda. Mordtmann 1881: 122. Compare also IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 1509, 1513, 1519 (the reference to neoi is restored in the last example). The examples from Byzantium were found in the Gymnasium, which would strengthen the case for associating them with an ephebic context (although it should

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inscription lacks any such contextualising statement, but in other respects it is so similar to the explicitly ephebic inscriptions that it seems very likely that it performed the same function. We note, too, that a recurring symbolic connotation of feet seems to be an association with setting out on a journey or on a new endeavour; we could compare an inscribed foot from Ephesus, which is accompanied by a representation of the deity Tyche: it seems to represent a sort of ancient ‘good luck in your new job/home …’ message.42 This would be consistent with the view that our Cyzicene feet are marking some sort of rite of passage or transition of status. There are two more specific points particularly worthy of discussion. The first of these is the appearance, in the first pair of feet, of a symbol which may be interpreted as a ligature of ΗΒΗ.43 Our tentative suggestion is that this might be a reference to Ἥβη, the personified ‘youth’, daughter of Zeus and Hera. She would certainly be an appropriate figure in this gymnastic, ephebic, context.44 This would be the first attestation of this cult at Cyzicus. Alternatively, this symbol could be an alphabetic numeral, marked as a numeral by a horizontal strike through a beta: we shall say more about this possibility (elsewhere in the inscription) below. A second puzzling feature appears in foot 7. The text (inscribed in a single foot) reads: Μηνό|φιλος | ϴ βω|ρεύς. The first name is unproblematic: Menophilos is well attested as a personal name in Cyzicus (see above). But ‘Βωρεύς’ is not known as a personal name in Cyzicus or anywhere else. An outside possibility is that this represents a nickname (perhaps translatable as Menophilos ‘The Fish’; or, less flatteringly, ‘Fishface’: βωρεύς is the word for pickled mullet (LSJ, s.v.)).45 A nickname may have been deployed here to

42

43 44 45

be noted, contra Hasluck 1910: 292; Robert 1937: 201 states that none of the Cyzicene examples can be definitively associated with that city’s gymnasium: none, to our knowledge, were found in situ). On the ephebic context for these texts, see Ziebarth 1909: 103–4; Forbes 1933: 58. For the inscribed foot from Ephesus, see Meinardus 1973: 245–48 (arguing against the popular modern interpretation of this inscription as a signpost to a brothel; and noting, inter alia, (at 247) that the absence of a bunion on the foot makes it more likely to be male than female). On feet as good-luck symbols, see Dunbabin 1990: 105–6. For the possibility of three-letter ligatures, see Avi-Yonah 1940: 32–33, but with no example of HBH. Mordtmann (1881: 122) notes a ligature of nu and epsilon in IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 1516, but gives no details of its form. The view of Laurens (1988: 458) is that Hebe was a figure identified with the stages between childhood and adulthood and that she was the goddess of adolescents and young men. For fish-names as human nicknames, see Grasberger 1883: 49, discussing the example of Kallimedon, who was nicknamed ὁ Κάραβος (‘the Crayfish’) because he was so fond of eating them (Ath.3.104c–d; cf. Plut. Dem. 27.2). For nicknames as sometimes derogatory

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distinguish this Menophilos from a namesake.46 A perhaps more plausible alternative is that the designation marks his affiliation with the Cyzicene tribal affiliation of the Βωρεῖς.47 But the identification of a tribal affiliation after his name raises another question: why would Menophilos—alone of all the people named in this text—want to identify himself in this way? Is it because he is in some respect an outsider? Or is it because he had a very common name and wanted to distinguish himself from a homonymous neos? Or is there another reason? The answer may lie in the circular symbol (marked in our transcription as a ϴ) that precedes the tribal designation. Identification is difficult: it might plausibly represent either a theta or a beta. Is it to be read with the next two letters, or as some stand-alone symbol? An ephebic list (CIG 3665) of the third century CE provides a possible parallel, which CIG renders as a beta with a horizontal stroke through its middle and interprets as an alphabetical ordinal numeral, Β’ (‘the second’). Might this then indicate that someone had been twice elected to an office (as is suggested in the CIG commentary), or—better in this context— had upon more than one occasion been a neos in the gymnasium? Perhaps, we might speculate, he was given a tribal affiliation because he had graduated already once, and had consequently already been enrolled in a tribe, and had taken the liberty of recording this in his foot-print. Another interpretation of the alphabetical symbol is raised by Avi-Yonah’s observation that a beta (with line over it or dissecting it) after a name can be used ‘to indicate homonymity in different generations of the same family.’48 If this is the case here, then the inscription represents the equivalent of ‘Menophilos Junior,’ ‘Menophilos II’, or ‘Menophilos son of Menophilos.’ Finally, we should note that the symbol that appears in the third lines of feet 1 and 2, interpreted above as a ligature for ΗΒΗ, might alternatively be interpreted as the alphabetical numeral Β’, and we may offer interpretations similar to those offered for the ϴ of foot 7.

46 47

48

references to physical and mental peculiarities, inter alia, see Grasberger 1883: 19–63; Ricl 2010: 549–50; on this tendency among ancient Greek given names more broadly, Bechtel 1898: 7–59. For this use of nicknames, see Cameron 1998. For the Βωρεῖς, see CIG 3664 l. 61 (dated in PHI to 117–38 CE; the inscription is a list of those who have held the office of prytanis, mentioning Βωρεῖς καὶ Αἰγικορεῖς), CIG 3665 l. 11 (dated in PHI to 222–35 CE; an ephebic list, identifying a Μ. Αὐρ. Εὐτύχης, διοικητής as Βωρεύς); see also Hasluck 1910: 250, 252; Jones 1987: 287–90. Avi-Yonah 1940: 42. In the inscribed list of prytaneis from Cyzicus in the Hadrianic era (CIG 3664), those names which are not followed by a patronymic are followed by betas dissected in the middle with a horizontal line; this presumably represents the same phenomenon. For a similar example, see Smith and de Rustafjaell 1902: 205–7.

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Conclusion

Our inscriptions contribute to the still-developing understanding of the epigraphical record of Cyzicus, a city which still lacks a definitive modern publication of most of its inscriptions.49 From a historical perspective, they reveal the existence of a cult of Aphrodite Limenia and continuing competition in the epigraphic sphere into the Christian era. It is far from clear that our Captain Ferguson knew exactly what it was that he was bringing back from his voyages, but the competitive and maritime themes of the stones he brought home resonate with those of the world in which he lived. Abbreviations CIG I.Kyz.

Corpus Inscriptionum Graecarum. 4 vols. Berlin, 1828–77. E. Schwertheim (ed.) Die Inschriften von Kyzikos und Umgebung. 2 vols. Bonn, 1980–83. IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ M. Barth and J. Stauber (eds.). 25.8.1993. Inschriften von Mysia & Troas. Munich. Packard Humanities Institute CD #7, 1996.—Mysia, “Kyzikene, Kapu Dağ”, nos. 1401–1856. Available online: http://epigraphy .packhum.org/biblio#b709 I.Philae A. Bernand and E. Bernand, Les inscriptions grecques de Philae. 2 vols. Paris, 1969. P.M. Fraser and E. Matthews (eds.) A Lexicon of Greek Personal Names. LGPN I Volume I: the Aegean Islands, Cyprus, Cyrenaica. Oxford, 1987. LGPN IV P.M. Fraser, E. Matthews and R.W.V. Catling (eds.) A Lexicon of Greek Personal Names. Volume IV: Macedonia, Thrace, Northern Regions of the Black Sea. Oxford, 2005. LGPN Va T. Corsten, R.W.V. Catling and M. Ricl (eds.) A Lexicon of Greek Personal Names. Volume Va: Coastal Asia Minor: Pontos to Ionia. Oxford, 2010. H.G. Liddell and R. Scott, rev. H.S. Jones A Greek-English Lexicon. Oxford, LSJ 1996. Packard Humanities Institute, Searchable Greek Inscriptions. Available PHI online: https://epigraphy.packhum.org/ Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum SEG

49

See the lists in Hasluck 1910: 263–95 and the overview in Habicht 2014. Two volumes of Cyzicene inscriptions have been published in the Inschriften griechischer Städte aus Kleinasien (IK) series: Schwertheim 1980–83.

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E. Kalinka (ed.) Tituli Asiae Minoris II. Tituli Lyciae linguis Graeca et Latina conscripti, Fasc. 1, nos. 1–395. Pars Lyciae occidentalis cum Xantho oppido. Vienna, 1920.

Bibliography Avi-Yonah, M. 1940. Abbreviations in Greek Inscriptions: the Near East, 200 B.C.–A.D. 1100. London and Jerusalem. Avram, A. 2004. “The Propontic coast of Asia Minor.” In M.H. Hansen and T.H. Nielsen, (eds.), An Inventory of Archaic and Classical Poleis, 974–99. Oxford. Bartman, E. 2017. The Ince Blundell Collection of Classical Sculpture. Vol. III: The Ideal Sculpture. Liverpool. Bechtel, F. 1898. Die einstämmigen männlichen Personennamen des Griechischen, die aus Spitznamen hervorgegangen sind. Berlin. Bey, E. 1908. “Relief votif du Musée Impérial Ottoman.” Bulletin de Correspondance Hellénique 32: 521–28. Burkert, W. 1985. Greek Religion. Oxford. Cameron, A. 1976. Circus Factions. Blues and Greens at Rome and Byzantium. Oxford. Cameron, A. 1998. “Black and White: A Note on Ancient Nicknames.” American Journal of Philology 119: 113–17. Chaniotis, A. 2011. “Graffiti in Aphrodisias. Images—Texts—Contexts.” In J.A. Baird and C. Taylor (eds.), Ancient Graffiti in Context, 191–207. New York and London. Conze, A. 1865. Reise auf der Insel Lesbos. Hannover. Crowther, C. 2010. “CIG 2017: A phantom Thracian name and a false Corcyrean provenance.” In R.W.V Catling and F. Marchand (eds.), Onomatologos. Studies in Greek Personal Names Presented to Elaine Matthews, 464–69. Oxford. Dana, M. 2014. “Cyzique, une cité au carrefour des réseaux culturels du monde grec.” In M. Sève and P. Schlosser (eds.), Cyzique, cité majeure et méconnue de la Propontide antique, 195–224. Metz. Dethier, A.A. and A.D. Mordtmann. 1864. Epigraphik von Byzantion und Constantinople von den ältesten zeiten bis zum jahre Christi 1453. Vienna. Drexhage, H.-W. 2003. “Der Kult des Zeus Olbios.” In E. Schwertheim and E. Winter (eds.), Religion und Region: Götter und Kulte aus dem östlichen Mittelmeerraum, 159–77. Bonn. Dunbabin, T.J. 1951. “The oracle of Hera Akraia at Perachora.” Annual of the British School at Athens 46: 61–71. Dunbabin, K.M.D. 1990. “Ipsa dea vestigia … Footprints divine and human on Graeco-Roman monuments.” Journal of Roman Archaeology 3: 85–109.

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Forbes, C.A. 1933. Neoi: A Contribution to the Study of Greek Associations. Middletown, Conn. Grasberger, L. 1883. Die griechischen Stichnamen. Ein Beitrag zur Würdigung der alten Komödie und des attischen Volkswitzes. Würzburg. Greaves, A. 2004. “The cult of Aphrodite in Miletus and its colonies.” Anatolian Studies 54: 27–34. Greenhalgh, M. 2013. From the Romans to the Railways: the Fate of Antiquities in Asia Minor. Leiden. Guilding, R. 2014. Owning the Past: Why the English Collected Antique Sculpture, 1640– 1840. New Haven. Habicht, C. 2014. “Kyzikos: the epigraphical evidence.” In M. Sève and P. Schlosser (eds.), Cyzique, cité majeure et méconnue de la Propontide antique, 167–77. Metz. Hasluck, F.W. 1905 “Inscriptions from the Cyzicene district, 1904.” Journal of Hellenic Studies 25: 56–64. Hasluck, F.W. 1906 “Poemanenum.” Journal of Hellenic Studies 26: 23–31. Hasluck, F.W. 1910. Cyzicus. Cambridge. Head, B.V. 1911. Historia Numorum: a Manual of Greek Numismatics. 2nd edition. Oxford. Jones, N.F. 1987. Public Organization in Ancient Greece: a Documentary Study. Philadelphia. Keesling, C.M. 2003. The Votive Statues of the Athenian Acropolis. Cambridge. Laugier, L. 2014. “Les antiquités de Cyzique au musée du Louvre.” In M. Sève and P. Schlosser (eds.), Cyzique, cité majeure et méconnue de la Propontide antique, 295– 308. Metz. Laurens, A.F. 1988. “Hebe I,” Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae IV.i, 458– 64. Zurich and Munich. Lazzarini, M.L. 1989–90. “Iscrizioni votive Greche.” Anathema, 845–59. Liddel, P.P. and P.A. Low. 2015. “An honorific gnome of the koinon of the Phrikyladai: a new inscription from Liverpool.” Annual of the British School at Athens 110: 263–84. McLean, B.C. 2002. An Introduction to Greek Epigraphy of the Hellenistic and Roman Periods from Alexander the Great down to the Reign of Constantine (323 B.C.–A.D. 337). Ann Arbor. Mordtmann, J.H. 1881. “Zur Epigraphik von Kyzikos.” Mitteilungun des deutschen archäologischen institutes (Athenische Abteilung) 6: 121–31. Mordtmann, J.H. 1882. “Zur Epigraphik von Kyzikos II.” Mitteilungun des deutschen archäologischen institutes (Athenische Abteilung) 7: 251–57. Mordtmann, J.H. 1885. “Zur Epigraphik von Kyzikos III.” Mitteilungun des deutschen archäologischen institutes (Athenische Abteilung) 10: 200–11 Meinardus, O.F.A. 1973. “The Alleged Advertisement for the Ephesian Lupanar.” Wiener Studien New Series 7: 245–48.

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Michaelis, A. 1882. Ancient Marbles in Great Britain. Translated by C.A.M. Fennell. Cambridge. Ormerod, H.A. 1953. The Liverpool Royal Institution: a Record and Retrospect. Liverpool. Patera, I. 2012. Offrir en Grèce ancienne: Gestes et contextes. Stuttgart. Ricl, M. 2010. “A New Inscription from the Cayster Valley.” In R.W.V Catling and F. Marchand (eds.), Onomatologos. Studies in Greek Personal Names Presented to Elaine Matthews, 530–51. Oxford. Robert, L. 1937. Études anatoliennes. Recherches sur les inscriptions grecques de l’Asie Mineure. Paris. Roueché, C. 1989. Aphrodisias in Late Antiquity: the Late Roman and Byzantine Inscriptions including Texts from the Excavations at Aphrodisias Conducted by Kenan T. Erim. London. Roueché, C. 1993. Performers and Partisans at Aphrodisias in the Roman and Late Roman Periods: a Study Based on Inscriptions from the Current Excavations at Aphrodisias in Caria. London. Schwertheim, E. 1980–83. Die Inschriften von Kyzikos und Umgebung. 2 volumes. Bonn. Smith, C. and R. de Rustafjaell. 1902. “Inscriptions from Cyzicus.” Journal of Hellenic Studies 22: 190–207. Southworth. E. 1991. “The Ince Blundell Collection: collecting behaviour in the eighteenth century.” Journal of the History of Collections 3: 219–34. Taşlıklıoğlu, Z. 1971. Trakya’da epigrafya araştırmaları (Recherches épigraphiques en Thrace et en Chersonèse). Volume 2. Istanbul. Taylor, C. 2011. “Graffiti and the epigraphic habit: creating communities and writing alternate histories in Classical Attica.” In J.A. Baird and C. Taylor (eds.), Ancient Graffiti in Context, 90–109. London and New York. Thély, L. 2014. “Le culte de Poséidon Asphaleios à Cyzique.” In M. Sève and P. Schlosser (eds.), Cyzique, cité majeure et méconnue de la Propontide antique, 179–93. Metz. Vaughan, G. 1989. “Henry Blundell’s sculpture collection at Ince Hall.” In P. Curtis, ed., Patronage and Practice: Sculpture on Merseyside, 13–21. Liverpool. Vecchio, L. 2011. “Su alcune iscrizioni relative al Sistema portuale di Cizico.” Parola del Passato 66: 194–232. Vermeule, C. and D. von Bothmer. 1959. “Notes on a New Edition of Michaelis: Ancient Marbles in Great Britain. Part Three: 1.” American Journal of Archaeology 63: 139–66. Wilson, F. 1999. “‘The Florence of the North?’ The civic culture of Liverpool in the early nineteenth century.” In A. Kidd and D. Nicholls (eds.), Gender, Civic Culture and Consumerism: Middle Class Identity in Britain, 1800–1940, 34–46. Manchester. Worsley, R. 1824. Museum Worsleyanum or a Collection of Antique Basso Relievos, Bustos, Statues, and Gems with views of Places in the Levant taken on the spot in the years MDCCLXXXV, VI and VII. 2 volumes. 2nd edn. London.

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Yates, J.B. 1855. “An Account of Two Greek Sepulchral Inscriptions at Ince Blundell (the Seat of Thomas Weld Blundell, Esq.) near Liverpool.” Proceedings of the Liverpool Literary and Philosophical Society 7: 134–37. Ziebarth, E.G.L. 1909. Aus dem griechischen Schulwesen: Eudemos von Milet und Verwandtes. Leipzig.

Chapter 23

Two Latin Inscriptions from Ephesos in the Ashmolean Museum Alison Cooley 1

The British Archaeological Expedition to Ephesos1

In 1858, the engineer and architect John Turtle Wood was appointed architect for the construction of the Smyrna and Aidin railway line in the Ottoman Empire.2 It seems that he was willing to undertake this rather onerous duty because he realised that this might open up to him the possibility of constructing the railway line from Izmir (ancient Smyrna) to Denizli and of excavating at Ayasoluk (the site of ancient Ephesos) at the same time.3 Wood’s primary desire was to uncover the Temple of Ephesian Artemis, which was both celebrated as one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, and also the focus of interest as a result of the cult’s role in the visit of St Paul to Ephesos, as recounted in the Acts of the Apostles 19.4 Consequently, having made a start on both tasks, he resigned his railway commission in 1863 in order to pursue his excavations at Ephesos. From 1863 to 1874, he did indeed succeed in identifying the site of the temple near the newly constructed railway station, in addition to exploring other major parts of the city, including its theatre. Wood’s name became fêted as the rediscoverer of ancient Ephesos: he was elected Fellow of the Royal Institute of British Architects and Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries, and was granted a pension by the government.5 Many important inscriptions and other objects from the site were given by him to the British Museum, the trustees of which had been persuaded to support his expedition financially after the digging initially funded by Wood personally had begun to yield results.6 1 I would like to thank audiences in Berkeley (California), London, and Oxford for their comments on these inscriptions; also John Bodel, Carlos Noreña, and Nikolaos Papazarkadas for both their kind invitation to present my ideas at the NACGLE and for their warm hospitality. 2 Higgins 2004. 3 Ervine 1938: 380; Scherrer 2000: 36. 4 Ledger-Lomas 2013: 265–276. 5 Wohlers-Scharf 1995: 51–62; Ervine 1938: 383. 6 Wood 1877; Ervine 1938: 382; Michaelis 1882: 171.

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Rather less well known is a railway engineer named Hyde Clarke (1815– 1895), who was also involved in the construction of the railway from 1863.7 He became increasingly engaged in historical and philological research alongside his engineering activities, publishing scholarly articles in the journals of the Royal Historical Society, the Anthropological Institute of Great Britain, and the Statistical Society of London, and delivering a lecture at the Smyrna Literary and Scientific Institution in 1863, a transcript of which is preserved on a microfiche in the British Library.8 Under his name at the start of an article published in 1877, we find listed:9

He was also something of a critic of Wood’s scholarship, which may explain why he chose to send his finds not to the British Museum, but to the Ashmolean.10 Among these artefacts are two inscriptions which have been studied as part of the Arts and Humanities Research Council project, ‘Facilitating Access to Latin inscriptions in Britain’s Oldest Public Museum through Scholarship and Technology’ (= Ashmolean Latin Inscriptions Project/ AshLI).11 Both of these monuments appear to have been found reused in the Byzantine aqueduct that cut across the line of the railway near the station at Ayasoluk. Although Hyde Clarke does not mention these monuments specifically, he does allude in his lecture of 1863 to the recovery of reused fragments and inscriptions from ‘late’ aqueducts.12 This fits with other accounts of the fifteen-metre high pillars supporting a sixth-century Byzantine aqueduct bringing water to the settlement on Ayasoluk hill and to the Basilica of St John as having been constructed of marble spolia from Ephesus, topped by brick arches.13

7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Henderson 2004. Clarke 1863. Clarke 1877. Ledger-Lomas 2013: 267; Michaelis 1882: 581, 583, 589, 590–591 = ‘Oxford, Ashmolean Museum’ nos 159–160, 171, 207, 214, 218–219. Online catalogue at http://latininscriptions.ashmus.ox.ac.uk/. Clarke 1863: 21. Scherrer 2000: 194–195; for the chronology, see Ünal and Ayhan 1999: 410.

Inscriptions from Ephesos in the Ashmolean Museum

2

433

Stele of Pompeius Marcellinus

The first Latin inscription in the Ashmolean’s collection from Ephesos to be presented here is a funerary stele, recorded by Michaelis as given by Hyde Clarke to the museum [Fig. 23.1].14 As part of the Ashmolean Latin Inscriptions Project, the stele has recently been put on display in the museum’s Rome Gallery. The stele is of white marble, with roughly finished rear and sides (h. 149 cm; w. 58.7 cm; d. 28 cm). Above, in relief, is a pediment with a rosette in the centre and palmettes at the corners. Below, appears a bearded horseman wearing a tunic and boots, cloak fluttering behind him, and sword by his side, galloping to the right, brandishing a spear in his right hand. He is holding a bridle in his left hand, whilst saddle and strap are both visible. The horse appears to have a plaited mane. Below is an inscription within a moulded frame. The surface of the stone is damaged over the last two lines of the inscription, but otherwise the relief and inscription are very well preserved. It is marked on the side with a painted letter ‘E’, to distinguish between Hyde Clarke’s donations from Ephesos (E) and Smyrna (S). The epitaph is inscribed within a frame (h. 67 cm; w. 54.8 cm). Lines 8 and 10 are centred. The abbreviation in the final line is spread out across the width of the stone. Letter heights: 2.7 cm (line 1); 2.5 cm (line 2); 2.3 cm (lines 3–6); 2.5 cm (lines 7–9); 2.3 cm (line 10); 3 cm (line 11). There are interpuncts throughout, even in the middle of the number XXIII, in line 5. There are lines above the numerals in line 5. The stele has been dated to the second century AD.15 L(ucio) ° Pompeio ° L(uci) ° filio ° Fabia ° Marcellino ° Roma ° tri(buno) ° coh(ortis) ° pri(mae) ° Ligur⸢um⸣ vixit ° annos ° XX ° III mens(es) ° V ° dies ° XI ° monumentum ° fecit ° Flavia ° Marcellina ° mater ° et ° Pompeia ° Catullina ° soror h(oc) ° m(onumentum) ° [h(eredem) n(on)] s(equetur) ° 14

15

AN.Michaelis.214 = Michaelis 1882: 590 ‘Oxford, Ashmolean Museum’ no.214; Le Bas and Waddington 1870: 72 no.184a; CIL III.1 no.435; EphEp V no.157; CIL III.suppl.1, no.7131; Hofmann 1905: 52, with fig.34; Pfuhl and Möbius 1979: no.1394 + Taf. 204; IK-16, 218 no.2305B. Online: EDCS-26600022; Arachne no.24191. AshLI no.168. Devijver 1977: 655 P60; Pfuhl and Möbius 1979: 333.

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Figure 23.1

Cooley

Stele of Pompeius Marcellinus, AN.Michaelis.214 Photograph: AshLI, courtesy of Ashmolean Museum, UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD

Inscriptions from Ephesos in the Ashmolean Museum

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– Line 3 TPI (Le Bas and Waddington) – Line 4 LIGVRI (lapis) for LIGVRVM – Line 11 H M [H] S (Le Bas and Waddington) ‘To Lucius Pompeius Marcellinus, son of Lucius, of the Fabian voting-tribe, from Rome, tribune of the first cohort of the Ligurians. He lived 23 years, 5 months, 11 days. His mother Flavia Marcellina built the monument, and his sister Pompeia Catullina. This monument will not follow the heir.’ This is the tombstone of an Italian tribune, from Rome, who died at Ephesos, on service in the first Ligurian cohort which was probably based in Asia Minor (Cichorius 1901: col.308; Pflaum 1971: p.62). The strong Roman identity projected for the deceased is clear from the use of Latin, and from the specific mention of his voting-tribe and origin at Rome, along with the military relief. The fact that it is his mother and sister who have set up the stele for him in Ephesos rather than back home at Rome, suggests that they may have been accompanying him at the time. If this is the case, this inscription contributes to the more positive picture of the civilian communities surrounding army units which has been proposed in recent research which takes issue with the traditional description of such family members as ‘camp-followers’.16 The hypothesis that Marcellinus’ mother and sister were travelling with him adds further diversity to our image of the social mix of the community that could exist alongside army units, and offers an example of how women could offer a supportive family environment for soldiers serving in the army. It seems plausible that the Roman military community was much more varied than has often been assumed, and that it was not unusual for upper-class women to live alongside the serving soldiers. 3

A New List of Names from Ephesos

One of the most surprising results of the Ashmolean Latin Inscriptions project has been to discover a large, hitherto unpublished inscription from Ephesos in the museum’s storeroom.17 It was given to the museum by Hyde Clarke in 1866. Its inventory number 1896–1908, G.1188 indicates that the inscription was only registered at the time when the Ashmolean and the University Galleries were amalgamated in 1908, following several decades of considerable reorganization for the Ashmolean’s collections in relation to other institutions at 16 17

Greene 2013: esp. 371–372, 380. AshLI no.175; http://latininscriptions.ashmus.ox.ac.uk/xml/AN_1896-1908_G_1188.xml; EDCS-72600313.

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the University, with for example the Ashmolean’s books and manuscripts as well as coins and medals being transferred to the Bodleian Library.18 A handwritten list in the Ashmolean archive, however, records that this marble was transferred along with many other inscriptions from the original Ashmolean Museum’s basement room on Broad Street (now the Museum of Science) to the marble rooms of the Randolph Building on Beaumont Street (where the modern Ashmolean is now located) in January of 1888. A similar symptom of the disorganisation of these years is clear from the fact that the stele of Pompeius Marcellinus has an inventory number derived from Michaelis. The fact that our inscription has remained unpublished becomes less surprising, though, on realising that much of the stone’s surface is badly weathered and its lettering worn away. Consequently, the present edition is much indebted to the modern technology of Reflectance Transformation Imaging.19 Nor is the monument itself immediately attractive: it is a plain block of marble, the key components of which—the headings at the top of the stone—are largely illegible. Nevertheless, closer examination of the stone reveals that it presents many unusual features that provoke curiosity as to its historical and social context. The inscription appears on the front of a large plain marble block (h., 49 cm; w., 174 cm; d., 22 cm). The block appears intact along the top and left edges, but broken at the lower right corner and cleanly cut along the bottom edge, having possibly been recut when reused in the aqueduct. The rear of the stone is not currently visible in the storeroom. At the top left corner are traces of a heading in larger letters (2 cm high) on two lines. Beneath, there may be some blank space before lettering resumes further down the block, but it is difficult to be sure because of weathering. The main part of the text is laid out in nine columns, which consist of a list of names (letters h., 1 cm). The columns, which vary between around 15–17 cm in width, have a gap of roughly 1.5 cm between them. The names include praenomen, nomen, and cognomen, together with filiation or status indicators as freedmen. These names appear under alphabetical headings: sections of the columns are separated by a capital letter (h., 2cm), centred within the column. Visible are the letters A, D, H, N, S, T, V. This is the first unusual feature of this inscription. The closest parallel for such alphabetisation is a dedication from Rome, Paci Aeternae domus Imp. Vespasiani Caesaris Aug. liberorumq. eius sacrum, set up by the iuniores of the tribus Sucusana. Hundreds of names are listed by centuria, in a similar rough

18 19

MacGregor 2001: 54–59. Sincere thanks are due to Benjamin Altshuler for his work in completing RTI on this inscription; Earl et al 2011.

437

Inscriptions from Ephesos in the Ashmolean Museum

Heading

Text along top edge

A H D

Column 1

Figure 23.2

Column 2

Column 3

Column 4

List of names from Ephesos, 1896–1908, G.1188. Left side Photograph: Ben Altshuler

S

N

Column 5

Figure 23.3

Column 6

List of names from Ephesos, 1896–1908, G.1188. Centre Photograph: Ben Altshuler

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T

V

Column 7

Figure 23.4

Column 8

Column 9

List of names from Ephesos, 1896–1908, G.1188. Right side Photograph: Ben Altshuler

alphabetical order, with each column headed by the name of a centuria.20 The alphabetical order in our Ephesus list is similarly not followed strictly within each heading, but the list is ordered by gentilician names which start with the letter A, then B (missing from what is preserved), then C in column 2, and so on. The names in the final column, beyond the end of the alphabetical section, are not similarly grouped, however, suggesting that these names may have been added at a later date, or list individuals of a different status from those included in the alphabetical columns. The other indication that a name has been added to the list is the name that is inscribed either side of the letter V heading, interrupting this heading, unlike the other capital letter headings. The lettering overall is rather unevenly inscribed, and the letters in shorter names are spaced out or a blank space is left in the middle of the name in order to create an impression of uniformity in the layout of each column. There are traces of a few letters above the first capital letter heading A, showing that this column of names was preceded by some text. Beyond the initial main heading, further to the right along the top edge appears another set of letters along one line, whose meaning cannot currently be reconstructed. They are either the 20

CIL VI 200 = EDCS-17200127, with photographs online.

439

Inscriptions from Ephesos in the Ashmolean Museum

continuation of the columns of names or another heading of some sort: the lettering in this line of text is of a similar height to the main body of the text (h., 1cm) and does not seem to adhere to the layout of the columns below; this, however, is not certain. 4

Transcription of the Text

Heading (top left) Sex(to) [P]o[mpeio] / [L(ucio)] Co[rnificio] / [c]o(n)[s(ulibus)] / (vac.)

O

Figure 23.5

Top left corner ASHLI, COURTESY OF THE ASHMOLEAN MUSEUM, UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD

This reading is offered with all due caution, but in addition to the clear SEX at the start of line one, traces of the POMP may be visible, whilst the letters CO on line 2 are relatively clear too. The key element suggesting that we are dealing here with a consular pair is the possibility that a large O (2.5 cm) appears likely to the right, engraved midway between the two lines, which would be a standard way of inscribing the names of consuls as a dating formula (compare, again, the Flavian dedication to Pax Aeterna). Very tentatively, therefore, I propose that this heading gives the names of the consuls of 35 BC. This chronology fits with the flavour of the names discussed below. Although we would expect consular names to appear in the ablative case in this formula, faint traces of the lettering also suggest the possibility that the names may be in the nominative. If this were to be the case, this reading raises the prospect that Sex. Pompeius and L. Cornificius were somehow the initiators of the monument being set up. Exactly what their relationship is to the individuals subsequently listed below remains unclear. Lettering

Figure 23.6

Lettering (a heading?) along top edge

440

Figure 23.7

Cooley

Lettering along top edge, close-up

S (vac.) D [—c.11—]A[-]B[-]A[—]DEC[—c.6—] It has not been possible to reconstruct any of this line of lettering. Column 1 -----[—]ACC[—] A [L(ucius)] Annius L(uci) f(ilius) [He]donus M(arcus) An[to]nius M(arci) l(ibertus) [P]elo[p]s [—c.16—] [-] A[—c.5—] L(uci) l(ibertus) Amphilus [—c.8—] Meno[—c.3—]us [—c.7—] A[nti]oc[h]us M(arcus) [—c.8—] Epap[hr]oditus D(ecimus) Anisius Diogenes D(ecimus) [-c.5-] D(ecimi) l(ibertus) (vac. 3) Damas A(ulus) Aemilius A(uli) l(ibertus) Philippus ------

Figure 23.8

Column 1

Inscriptions from Ephesos in the Ashmolean Museum

441

Column 2 -----[- - - - - -] [—c.9—]Antioch [—c.15—]S [—c.11—] Cerdo Cn(aeus) Atinius Cn(aei) l(ibertus) [—c.5—] [—c.4—]ius Q. l. [—c.7—] C(aius) Audius C(ai) l(ibertus) Phileros M(arcus) Albius M(arci) [—c.4—]darus M(arcus) [A]p[—c.2—]ius M(arci) l(ibertus) Glaucia Q. Aninius Q l. Amphio L. Aufidius L l. Zoilus ------

Figure 23.9

Column 2

442

Cooley

Column 3 -----[—c.16—]us [—c.14—]cles [—c.16—]us [—c.16—]us [—c.13—]hilus [—c.15—]ouf [—c.13—]dorus [—c.12—]Apella C(aius) Curti[us] C(ai) l(ibertus) [-]er[—2—]enes C(aius) [—c.7—] C(ai) l(ibertus) Iac[—c.4—] L(ucius) Cae[-2-]nnius [—c.8-] Q(uintus) Caeciliu[s] M(arci) l(ibertus) [—c.4—]us L(ucius) Clodius [—2—] (vac. 4) Cris[p]us C(aius) [—c.5—]nius L(uci) l(ibertus) (vac. 2) Eros C(aius) Cae[—7—] C(ai) l(ibertus) Artas [-] Cor[ne]lius L(uci) [-] Aristo M(arcus) Cusinius L(uci) l(ibertus) (vac. 2) Iaso Q(uintus) Caecilius Q(uniti) l(ibertus) [—2?—]ius D ------

Figure 23.10

Column 3

Inscriptions from Ephesos in the Ashmolean Museum

Column 4 -----[- - - - - -] [- - - - - -] [- - - - - -] [- - - - - -] L(ucius) [—c.9—] Epigonus L(ucius) [—c.8—] Apollonis A(ulus) Granius A(uli) [-] Asp[a]sius Q(uintus) [—c.16—]m C(aius) Gavius [—c.11?—] P(ublius) Gr[an]ius P(ubli) l(ibertus) Rufion L(ucius) Gavius [—2—] H[il]arus M(arcus) G[—c.5—]nius M(arci) f(ilius) Rufus H C(aius) Heredius C(ai) l(ibertus) Nicephor(us) M(arcus) Hostius M(arci) l(ibertus) (vac.) Bithus [I] C(aius) Iulius C(ai) l(ibertus) Epaphroditus C(aius) [—c.6—] C(ai) l(ibertus) Terpnus ------

Figure 23.11

Column 4

443

444

Cooley

Column 5 -----[- - - - - -] [—c.17—]us C(aius) [—c.4—]ius C(ai) [-] Apollodor(us) C(aius) [—c.8—] C(ai) l(ibertus) Heracleo C(aius) Mannaius Cai) l(ibertus) [S]phaerus C(aius) Minucius C(ai) l(ibertus) Alex[—c.3—] A(ulus) Mucius A(uli) l(ibertus) Alexsa L(ucius) Munatius P(ubli) f(ilius) Plancus L(ucius) Mundicius L(uci) l(ibertus) Isidorus M(arcus) Minucius M(arci) f(ilius) Rufus N C(aius) Nessinius C(ai) f(ilius) Lupus Q(uintus) Nerius Q(uinti) l(ibertus) Menophilus C(aius) Nonius C(ai) f(ilius) [—c.10—] L(ucius) Numitorius L(uci) l(ibertus) Nicia D(ecimus) Naevius D(ecimi) l(Ibertus) [—] ------

Figure 23.12

Column 5

445

Inscriptions from Ephesos in the Ashmolean Museum

Column 6 -----[—c.12—] Sabinus QR [—c.8—]ius [-] l(ibertus) Agatho Q(uintus) R[—c.4—]lius Q(uniti) l(ibertus) [-2-] Zabina S P(ublius) S[erv]ilius P(ubli) l(ibertus) [vac. 3] Dama P(ublius) Servilius P(ubli) l(ibertus) Philogenes P(ublius) [—c.8—] P(ubli) l(ibertus) Licinus M(arcus) [—c.6—] P(ubli) l(ibertus) Menodotus P(ublius) [—c.6—] P(ubli) l(ibertus) Apollonius [—c.7—] P(ubli) l(ibertus) Astragalus D(ecimus) [—c.9—] Salvius P(ublius) [—c.7—] P(ubli) l(ibertus) Phila[r]gur(us) D(ecimus) [—c.6—] P(ubli) l(ibertus) Sune[-]e[—c.4—] [—c.11—]gath[—c.4—] A(ulus) Stlaccius [—c.9—] [—c.3—]A[—c.3—]M l. [—c.10—] ------

Figure 23.13

Column 6

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Column 7 -----[- - - - - -] T L(ucius) Terentius [vac.4] Rufus C(aius) Tuscenius C(ai) l(ibertus) Alupus L(ucius) Terentius L(uci) l(ibertus) Alexsa P(ublius) Titius P(ubli) l(ibertus) [vac.3] Sabbio V D(ecimus) Volumnius P(ubli) l(ibertus) Epaph⟨r⟩od⟨i⟩t(us) Ap(pius) Vinucius [vac.2] [—c.3—]A[—3—] L(ucius) [—c.18—] Q(uintus) Vettienus [—c.9—] M(arcus) [—c.18—] C(aius) [—c.18—] ------

Figure 23.14

Column 7

Inscriptions from Ephesos in the Ashmolean Museum

Column 8 -----[- - - - - -] C(aius) Cas[—c.13—] M(arcus) Falcidius Ruf[us] C(aius) Minucius C(ai) f(ilius) P[-]ca L(ucius) Mundicius L(uci) f(ilius) Spica L(ucius) Marcius L(uci) f(ilius) Pri[-2-] M(arcus) Tonniu[s —] -----Column 9 -----[-]OQV[-]D ------

Figure 23.15

Columns 8 and 9

447

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Translation: Heading (top left) Sextus Pompeius, Lucius Cornificius, consuls. ?Heading, top edge [No translation possible] Column 1 [No translation possible] A: Lucius Annius Hedonus, son of Lucius; Marcus Antonius Pelops, freedman of Marcus; … ; … Amphilus, freedman of Lucius; … Meno …; … Antiochus; Marcus … Epaproditus; Decimus Anisius Diogenes; Decimus … Damas, freedman of Decimus; Aulus Aemilius Philippus freedman of Aulus; … Column 2 … Antioch …; …; … Cerdo; Gnaeus Atinius … freedman of Gnaeus; … freedman of Quintus; Gaius Audius Phileros freedman of Gaius; Marcus Albius … darus … of Marcus; Marcus … Glaucia freedman of Marcus; Quintus Aninius Amphio freedman of Quintus; Lucius Aufidius Zoilus freedman of Lucius;… Column 3 … us; … cles; … us; … us; … hilus; … ouf; …dorus; … Apella; Gaius Curtius … enes freedman of Gaius; Gaius…. Iac … freedman of Gaius; Lucius Cae … nnius …; Quintus Caecilius … us freedman of Marcus; Lucius Clodius Crispus….; Gaius … nius Eros freedman of Lucius; Gaius Cae … Artas freedman of Gaius; … Cornelius Aristo … of Lucius; Marcus Cusinius Iaso freedman of Lucius; Quintus Caecilius … ius freedman of Quintus; D: … Column 4 … Lucius … Epigonus …; Lucius … Apollonis …; Aulus Granius Aspasius … of Aulus; Quintus …; Gaius Gavius …; Publius Granius Rufion freedman of Publius; Lucius Gavius Hilarus …; Marcus G … nius Rufus son of Marcus; H: Gaius Heredius Nicephorus freedman of Gaius; Marcus Hostius Bithus freedman of Marcus; I: Gaius Iulius Epaphroditus freedman of Gaius; Gaius … Terpnus freedman of Gaius … Column 5 … Gaius … ius Apollodorus ? of Gaius; Gaius … Heracleo freedman of Gaius; Gaius Mannaius Sphaerus freedman of Gaius; Gaius Minucius Alex … freedman of Gaius; Aulus Mucius Alexsa freedman of Aulus; Lucius Munatius Plancus son of Publius; Lucius Mundicius Isidorus freedman of Lucius; Marcus Minucius Rufus son of Marcus; N: Gaius Nessinius Lupus son of Gaius; Quintus Nerius Menophilus freedman of Quintus; Gaius Nonius … son of Gaius; Lucius Numitorius Nicia freedman of Lucius; Decimus Naevius … freedman of Decimus; … Column 6 … Sabinus; Q R:… ius Agatho freedman of …; Quintus R … lius Zabina freedman of Quintus; S: Publius Servilius Dama freedman of Publius; Publius Servilius Philogenes freedman of Publius; Publius … Licinus freedman of Publius; M … Menodotus freedman of Publius; Publius … Apollonius freedman of Publius; … Astragalus freedman of Publius; … Salvius; Publius Philargurus freedman of Publius; Decimus … Sune … freedman of Publius; … gath …; Aulus Stlaccius …; … Column 7 … T: Lucius Terentius Rufus; Gaius Tuscenius Alupus freedman of Gaius; Lucius Terentius Alexsa freedman of Lucius; Publius Titius Sabbio freedman of Publius; V: Decimus Volumnius Epaphroditus freedman of Publius; Appius

Inscriptions from Ephesos in the Ashmolean Museum

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Vinucius … ; … Quintus Vettienus … ; … Column 8 … Gaius Cas … ; Marcus Falcidius Rufus; Gaius Minucius … son of Gaius ; Lucius Mundicius Spica son of Lucius ; Lucius Marcius Pri … son of Lucius ; Marcus Tonnius … Column 9 … [-]OQV[-]D … As mentioned above, this inscription poses many questions about the names listed upon it. Any interpretation has to take into account its distinctive attributes, particularly its use of Latin, the large number of names, the egalitarian listing of freeborn alongside freedmen together with the unusual choice of alphabetical order, the suggestion that it is a ‘dynamic’ list, and its monumental format. Over 90 names appear in the main sections of the list, ordered alphabetically, and at least a further seven names appear in column 8, which does not follow alphabetical order. It is possible that the original total number of names should be at least doubled: the record continued below the part that is preserved—note the heading D right at the bottom of column 3—and large parts of the upper part of this block may also originally have been covered with further names. Although no definite indicator remains as to why these names are inscribed together in this way, the most plausible social context in which to place these individuals is, as suggested by Nicholas Purcell at the Oxford Epigraphy Workshop where I first presented a preliminary account of the text, as members of the conventus civium Romanorum qui in Asia negotiantur, the cives Romani qui negotiantur, or the Italicei quei Ephesi negotiantur. The activities of Italians in the Greek East have long been appreciated as a distinctive contribution to the economies and societies of cities in mainland Greece, the Greek islands, and Asia Minor.21 Significant numbers of Italians were based in Ephesos already by around 100 BC.22 During roughly 70–45 BC, an honorific monument was set up for L. Agrius Publeianus by the Italicei quei Ephesi negotiantur, illustrating that, as in other areas of the Greek East, the Italians of Ephesos were already forging a sense of community identity for themselves.23 Such collective action continued into the imperial era on the part of the conventus civium Romanorum qui in Asia negotiantur, who continued to honour members of the imperial family,24 but of more relevance for our 21 22 23 24

Hatzfeld 1919; Càssola 1970/71; Hasenohr and Müller 2002; Kirbihler 2007 and 2016; Tran 2014. Hatzfeld 1919: 47. CIL III 14195, 39 = IK 16–2058; Hatzfeld 1919: 102: Kirbihler 2016: 224. Dedications to Claudius: IK 2–409 [Tiberio Claudio Dru]si f. Ca[esari]/ [Augusto Germanico t]rib pot IIII [cos III] / [conventus c(ivium) R(omanorum) qui in Asia negoti]antur, AD 44; IK 7, 1–3019 Ti. Claudio Caesari Aug. Germa/nico imper. pont. max. trib. pot. iii/ cos iii p. p. conventus c(ivium) R(omanorum) qui in Asia n/egotiantur, curam agentibus/ T. Camurio T. f. Qu(i)r(ina) Iusto trib. mil. / leg XIII Geminae / et L. Manlio L. f. Col(lina) Marito.

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inscription is the dedication to M. Cocceius Nerva, consul of 36 BC, by the conventus c(ivium) R(omanorum) quei Ephesi negotiantu[r],25 if the tentative reading of the consuls for 35 BC is correct here. It is, therefore, at least plausible to suggest that members of the Roman citizen community at Ephesos may have been involved in setting up some sort of monument, inscribing themselves upon it in Latin, which would appear naturally to be the language of choice for this section of Ephesos’ otherwise Greek-speaking community.26 The character of many of the names recorded in this list is also appropriate to such a social context and chronology. Although it is notoriously difficult to be certain whether individuals themselves originated from Italy, or whether they were descendants of freedmen, there is a significant number of gentilician names in this list which can be paralleled on Delos or in the towns of Campania.27 Although some Italian names came from individuals emigrating from Delos in the 50s BC, the majority of non-imperial gentilician names at Ephesos appear derived from Italy, and from Campania in particular.28 Furthermore, although some of the names such as M. Minucius Rufus, P. Servilius Philogenes, P. Servilius Dama, M. Antonius Pelops, [L.] Cornelius Aristo, and L. Munatius Plancus, could also have originated in viritane grants of Roman citizenship by governors of Asia,29 these same names can also be found in Campanian contexts, as is shown below. It also remains problematic to distinguish between a nomen spread via enfranchisement in the east and a nomen shared by several immigrant families, but overall it seems likely that names spread by a variety of methods, so such neat distinctions may not reflect reality in any case.30 In our inscription, the following names fit well into a negotiator milieu derived from Delos and/or Campania: – [L.] Annius L. f. [He]donus: Annii—especially Capua, Puteoli; on Delos from 2nd century BC31 – M. An[to]nius M. l. [P]elo[p]s: Antonii—common throughout Campania; on Delos from 2nd century BC32

25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

IK 3–658, with AE 1990 no.938. Weber 1999: 140. Kirbihler 2007: 21–22; 2016: 267–73. Kirbihler 2016: 350–54. Kirbihler 2016: 270. Kirbihler 2016: 346. D’Isanto 1993: 61–63 no.22; Ferrary et al. 2002: 187; Kirbihler 2016: 280, no.16. D’Isanto 1993: 65–66 no.26; Ferrary et al. 2002: 187; Kirbihler 2016: 281 no.19.

Inscriptions from Ephesos in the Ashmolean Museum

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– A. Aemilius A. l. Philippus: Aemilii well known in Campania, especially Puteoli; on Delos during 2nd and 1st centuries BC33 – C. Audius C. l. Phileros: Audii found in Campania, especially Pompeii, with a few also in central/ southern Italy; on Delos from end of 2nd to mid-1st century BC34 – M. Albius M. [—4—]darus: one example at Capua35 – L. Aufidius L l. Zoilus: Aufidii at Capua; on Delos36 – C. Curti[us] C. l. P?e[—3—]enes: Curtii known as high-ranking individuals in Capua37 – L. Clodius [—2—] Cris[p]us: Clodii as one of the most important families at Capua; on Delos during 1st century BC38 – [-] Cor[ne]lius L. [-] Aristo: Cornelii very common in Campania, linked both to L. Cornelius Sulla and L. Cornelius Balbus; on Delos39 – Q. Caecilius Q. l. [—2?—]ius: Caecilii in Campania and on Delos during the 1st century BC40 – A. Granius A.[-] Asp[a]sius; P Gr[an]ius P. l. Rufion: Granii known from 1st century BC in Capua, and also on Delos. Many traders with this gentilician known from the 1st c BC in Greece and Asia Minor more widely too.41 – C. Gavius [—9?—]; L. Gavius [—] H[il]arus: Gavii in Campania42 – M. Hostius M. l. Bithus: Hostii include magistri at Capua during the Republic43 – L. Marcius L. f. Pri[-2-]: Marcii in Campania, especially Puteoli during Republic; on Delos44 – C. Minucius C. l. Alex[—]; M. Minucius M.f. Rufus: at Capua; on Delos45 – A. Mucius A. l. Alexsa: Mucii one example only in Campania, from imperial era46

33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46

D’Isanto 1993: 55 no.6; Ferrary et al. 2002: 186; Kirbihler 2016: 277 no.3. D’Isanto 1993: 73 no.40; Kirbihler 2016: 285, no.32. D’Isanto 1993: 56 no.11; Kirbihler 2016: 278 no.8. D’Isanto 1993: 73 no.42; Ferrary et al. 2002: 189; Kirbihler 2016: 286 no.33. D’Isanto 1993: 116–117 no.113; Kirbihler 2016: 296 no.69. D’Isanto 1993: 104–106 no.98; Ferrary et al. 2002: 193. D’Isanto 1993: 111–114 no.106; Ferrary et al. 2002: 193; Kirbihler 2016: 295 no.64. D’Isanto 1993: 85–86 no.67; Ferrary et al. 2002: 191; Kirbihler 2016: 288 no.40. D’Isanto 1993: 139–140 no.155; Ferrary et al. 2002: 198–99; Kirbihler 2016: 303 no.95. D’Isanto 1993: 138 no.152; Kirbihler 2016: 302 no.91. D’Isanto 1993: 148–150 no.168; Kirbihler 2016: 306 no.105. D’Isanto 1993: 167–68 no.202; Ferrary et al. 2002: 202; Kirbihler 2016: 311 no.121. D’Isanto 1993: 173 no.211; Ferrary et al. 2002: 203; Kirbihler 2016: 313 no.129. D’Isanto 1993: 173 no.213; Kirbihler 2016: 314 no.131.

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– L. Munatius P. f. Plancus: Munatii in Campania; on Delos during 1st century BC47 – D. Naevius D. l. [—]: Naevii very common in Campania; on Delos during the first century BC48 – Q. Nerius Q.l. Menophilus: Nerii only in Capua during the Republic in Campania; on Delos from end of 2nd century BC49 – C. Nonius Q. f. [—6—]: Nonii in Campania; on Delos during 1st century BC50 – L Numitorius L. l. Nicia: Numitorii only one from imperial era in Campania; on Delos51 – P. S[erv]ilius P.l. Dama; P. Servilius P. l. Philogenes: Servilii in Capua during the Republic; on Delos 1st century BC52 – [-] Stlaccius [—]: Stlaccii in Campania and on Delos53 – D. Volumnius P. l. Epaph⟨r⟩od⟨i⟩t(us): Volumnii in Campania54 The other element in favour of identifying these names as negotiatores at Ephesos is the way in which freeborn citizens and freedmen are mixed together, without a sense of hierarchy. This is particularly noticeable in column 5, where freeborn citizens and freedmen are interspersed. A similar pattern can be seen in dedications by groups of negotiatores elsewhere. In Boeotia, for example, a list of names in Latin from AD 14 presents nineteen names in two columns, mixing together freeborn and freed.55 This suggests that within the conventus organisation, freeborn and freed were on an equal footing. There is no clear consensus about the exact composition of groups of negotiatores. It seems that it was possible for a conventus to consist of several hundred members, as at Utica at the time of the Younger Cato where the conventus comprised 300 members.56 Otherwise, it seems that the collectivity could include individuals of varied social status, from equestrian to slave.57 Given that our evidence for their activities is largely epigraphic, it should be no surprise that we primarily find them honouring members of Rome’s elite and, latterly, imperial family. This monument, however, is no statue base in form. Nor does it seem suitable as an album of members, which would more usually be found engraved upon a thin marble plaque. The block seems most suitable as part of 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57

D’Isanto 1993: 174 no.215; Ferrary et al. 2002: 203; Kirbihler 2016: 314 no.132. D’Isanto 1993: 174–76 no.221; Ferrary et al. 2002: 203; Kirbihler 2016: 315 no.135. D’Isanto 1993: 178–79 no.223; Ferrary et al. 2002: 204; Kirbihler 2016: 315 no.136. D’Isanto 1993: 180 no.224; Ferrary et al. 2002: 204; Kirbihler 2016: 316 no.139. D’Isanto 1993: 184 no.231; Ferrary et al. 2002: 205; Kirbihler 2016: 317 no.143. D’Isanto 1993: 224–225; Ferrary et al. 2002: 214; Kirbihler 2016: 332 no. 198. Kirbihler 2016: 336 no.209. D’Isanto 1993: 266 no.401; Kirbihler 2016: 345 no.247. CIL III 7301; Hatzfeld 1919: 68–69. Plutarch, Cato Younger 59. Tran 2014.

Inscriptions from Ephesos in the Ashmolean Museum

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a building’s structure. One possibility is that we have here the setting up of a cult building of some sort, perhaps analogous with what appears to be the altar established to the newly deified Augustus in Boeotia in AD 14.58 Another possibility might be that the individuals whose names are listed had perhaps been awarded some form of tax exemption. Other evidence shows that the integration of Italians into their local communities in the Greek East was a subject of some debate during the 40s BC.59 These remain, however, just two speculative hypotheses about this enigmatic monument from Ephesos. Abbreviations EphEp Ephemeris Epigraphica. Corporis Inscriptionum Latinarum Supplementum. Vol. 5. Rome 1884. IK 16 Merkelbach, R. and Nollé, J. 1980. Die Inschriften von Ephesos 6. Inschriften griechischer Städte aus Kleinasien 16: Bonn.

Bibliography Works Cited

Càssola, F. 1970/71. ‘Romani e Italici in Oriente’ DialArch 4–5: 305–22 Cichorius, C. (1901) ‘Cohors’. In G. Wissowa, ed., Paulys Real-encyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft, Vol.4: col.231–356. Stuttgart. Clarke, H. 1863. ‘Ephesus. Being a lecture delivered at the Smyrna Literary and Scientific Institution’. Smyrna. Clarke, H. 1877. ‘The Khita and Khita-Peruvian epoch: Khita, Hamath, Hittite, Canaanite, Etruscan, Peruvian, Mexican etc’. London. Devijver, H. 1977. Prosopographia militiarum equestrium quae fuerunt ab Augusto ad Gallienum. Vol. 2. Leuven. D’Isanto, G. 1993. Capua romana. Ricerche di prosopografia e storia sociale. Rome Earl, G., Basford, P.J., Bischoff, A.S., Bowman, A., Crowther, C., Dahl, J., Hodgson, M., Martinez, K., Isaksen, L., Pagi, H. and Piquette, K.E., 2011. ‘Reflectance transformation imaging systems for ancient documentary artefacts’. In J.P. Bowen, S. Dunn, and K. Ng, eds, EVA London 2011: Electronic Visualisation and the Arts, 147–154. London. Ervine, S. 1938. ‘John Turtle Wood, Discoverer of the Artemision 1869’. Isis, 28(2): 376–384.

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CIL III 7301. Kirbihler 2016: 89.

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Ferrary, J-L., Hasenohr, C., Le Dinahet M-T. 2002. ‘Liste des Italiens de Délos’. In C. Müller and C. Hasenohr, eds, Les Italiens dans le monde grec iie siècle av. J-C.- ier siècle ap. J.-C., 183–239. Paris. Greene, E.M. 2013. ‘Female networks in military communities in the Roman West: a view from the Vindolanda Tablets’. In E. Hemelrijk and G. Woolf, eds. Women and the Roman City in the Latin West, 369–390. Leiden, Boston. Hatzfeld, J. 1919. Les trafiquants italiens dans l’orient hellénique. Paris. Henderson, J.P. 2004. ‘Clarke, Hyde (1815–95)’. In D. Rutherford, ed., The Biographical Dictionary of British Economists, vol. 1, 227–30. Bristol. Higgins, R. A. 2004. ‘Wood, John Turtle (1821–1890)’. In rev. Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford Hofmann, H. (1905) Römische Militärgrabsteine der Donauländer. Vienna. Kirbihler, F. 2007. ‘Die Italiker in Kleinasien, mit besonderer Berücksichitigung von Ephesos (133 v. Chr.-1. Jh. n. Chr.)’. In M. Meyer ed., Neue Zeiten—Neue Sitten. Zu Rezeption und Integration römischen und italischen Kulturguts in Kleinasien, 19–35. Vienna. Kirbihler, F. 2016. Des Grecs et des Italiens à Ephèse. Bordeaux. Le Bas, P. and Waddington, W.H. 1870. Inscriptions grecques et latines recueillies en Grèce et en Asie mineure. Vol. 3, Part 1. Paris. Ledger-Lomas, M. 2013. ‘Ephesus’. In D. Gange and M. Ledger-Lomas, eds, Cities of God. The Bible and Archaeology in Nineteenth-Century Britain, 254–283. Cambridge. MacGregor, A. 2001. The Ashmolean Museum. A brief history of the Institution and its collections. Oxford. Michaelis, A. 1882. Ancient Marbles in Great Britain. Translated by C.A.M. Fennell. Cambridge. Müller, C. and Hasenohr, C., eds, 2002. Les Italiens dans le monde grec iie siècle av. J-C.- ier siècle ap. J.-C. Paris. Pflaum, H.-G. (1971) ‘Inscription de Chios (L. Faianius Sabinus)’. Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 7: 61–63. Pfuhl, E. and Möbius, H. 1979. Die ostgriechischen Grabreliefs, vol. 2. Mainz am Rhein. Scherrer, P. 2000 rev. edn. Ephesus. The new guide. Trans. by L. Bier & G.M. Luxon. Ege Yayınları. Tran, N. 2014. ‘Les hommes d’affaires romains et l’expansion de l’Empire (70 av. J.-C.-73 apr. J.-C.)’ Pallas 96: 111–126. Ünal, Ö. and Ayhan, A. 1999. ‘Fernwasserleitungen von Ephesos’. In H. Friesinger and F. Krinzinger, eds, 100 Jahre österreichische Forschungen in Ephesos, 405–12. Vienna. Weber, E. 1999. ‘Zu den lateinischen Inschriften von Ephesus’. In H. Friesinger and F. Krinzinger, eds, 100 Jahre österreichische Forschungen in Ephesos, 139–46. Vienna. Wohlers-Scharf, T. 1995. Die Forschungsgeschichte von Ephesos. Frankfurt. Wood, J.T. 1877. Discoveries at Ephesus. London.

Index of Subjects Abydos 389 Achaea 81 n. 45, 105, 115, 116, 395, 401–403 Acratophoros 103 Actiani Anicetiani (pantomime troupe) 207–08 Actius Anicetus (pantomime) 208 adoption 45, 48, 49 Aeclanum 255, 287 aediles 226, 234, 239, 242, 248, 250, 280 Aegion 105, 116 Aelius Gallus, M. 374–375 Aemilius Optatus, M. 310 Aemilius Severus 311, 319 Aethiopis 29 Aetolia 115–116 Africa Proconsularis 157, 260–75, 293, 361, 364 Agatharchos 143–144 Agdistis 82 n. 47 agent analysis 204–05 Agrigento 153, 155 Agrippina 165 Ai Khanoum 126 Aischylos 49 Aktites 61, 64 Alea 105 Alexander Severus See “Severus Alexander” Alexandria 13, 417 Alexandros 22, 138 Alfius Modestus, Q. 313, 317 alimenta 281 Alipheira 105 Allaria 90–94, 98–99 Amazonomachy 138 Amenhotep III 373 Amenoth 376 n. 7 Amerimnos 21, 27 n. 68 Ammonian son of the city of No 376 n. 7 Amorgos 107 n. 27, 414 n. 16 Amphipolis 28 n. 70, 46 amphitheater 219–22, 224, 226–28, 237–38, 240–43, 246, 248–49 amphodon 73, 74 amphora and crown (on stele) 129 Ampurias (Phocean Colony) 154–55 anchisteia 38 n. 7, 45

Ancient Graffiti Project 165, 167, 179–93 Andros 81 n. 44 Anicius Faustus, Q. 360 Aninus, P. 227, 229 Anna Perenna 158 Anthousa 21 Antigonids 121 Antikythera mechanism 31 Antiochis 41 Antiochos IV Epiphanes 138 Antoneia 399 Antoninos 31 Aphrodisias 18 n. 13, 19, 397, 417 Aphrodite 19, 24, 120, 143, 413 Apollo 99, 117, 126 n. 33 Apollo, Temple of 182, 225 Apollodoros 138, 142, 143, 144, 146 Apollonarion 383, 385 Apollonides 79, 80, 82 Apollonios 140 Aprilis (scriptor from Capua) 253 Aquileia 290, 296–97, 336, 340, 345 Arachne (object database) 189, 433 Aranda 75 n. 19 Arcadius 360 Archandros 78 Archeptolemos and Antiphon, decree on 38 Archippos 107, 110, 111 Areopagus 38, 401–404 Aretides 28 Argos 79, 109 Aristagoras 75 Aristainetos 14 Aristobola 106 Aristodama Amunta 107 Aristodamos 104, 105, 114, 115 Aristolochos 80–81 Ariston 106 Artaxerxes 121 Artemidoros 421 Artemis 81 Artemon 27 Arthmios 37 Asclepius 57, 59 n. 11, 62, 63, 66, 139, 143 n. 18

456 Ascoli Tablet 328 Asia (Roman province) 396, 397, 402, 403, 404 asphalia 107, 109 associations (private) 73, 74, 408 n. 3 Assorus 88–90, 96, 97 Assos 81 n. 44 Astigi 336, 339 Asturum 337, 341 asylia 90–92, 107, 109 Atemidoros 421 Athena 75, 103, 104, 105, 111, 117, 142 n. 16 Athenaion 138, 139, 141, 143, 145 Athenodoros 14 Athenos 421 Athens 16, 23, 38, 43, 46, 50, 63 n. 19, 66, 72, 73, 76, 77, 80, 44 n. 81, 86 n. 7, 120, 121, 124, 125, 126, 128, 135, 136, 140, 141, 393, 401, 402, 403, 404, 405 atria 198–201, 206–07, 210, 212, 215, 229 Attilius, M. 252 Augusta Emerita 291, 298, 309, 312, 316, 337, 347 Augustus 14, 165, 170–71, 173, 176, 231–34, 238, 240, 243, 249, 251, 296, 328, 330, 359, 363, 453 Aurelian Wall 157 Aurelius Scaurus, C. 250 Avellino, Francesco 166 awnings 230 Baetica 280, 292, 295, 297, 309, 311, 313, 315, 329–30, 333, 336–41, 349–50 Balbilla, Julia 376 n. 7, 8 baroque 138 Bassitas 103 baths 30, 139, 142, 394 Bes 389 Bithynia 312 Boëthos 135–146 Boreus 439 Bormann, Eugen 282 Bouzounon 19 Bracaraugustanus 337 Britain 156 Bulla Regia 260–62, 264–65, 270 Burrenius Felix 261 Byzantium 71, 105, 418, 422 n. 32, 423 n. 41

Index of Subjects Caecilia Galla 310, 319 Caesaraugustanus 337, 342 Calceus Herculis (Numidian Camp) 362 Calchedon 137–145 Cales 248 Calpurnius Hispanianus, L 311 Calpurnius Senecio, L. 311 Camarina (Sicily) 153, 156 Campania 157, 167, 176, 243, 246–58, 333, 350, 360, 450–52 Campius Primgenius, L. 208 Cantabrian Wars 328 Cantrius Marcellus, M. 228 Capua 248–53,257–58, 281, 339, 450–53 Caracalla 260, 280, 358–59, 361–67, 397, 401 n. 20 Carthage 72, 154, 157–59, 365 Carthaginensis 337, 343 Cassander 121 Cassius Dio 296 Castellum Dimmidi 365 Castrensis 208 Catullus 165 Centorbi 156 Centuripae 27 Cephalonia 105, 115, 116 Chaeronea 121 Chairianthes 115 Charias 20 n. 22 Charidemos 49 charisterion 138–139 Chelidonion 14 Chersonese 414 n. 15 child 139, 143 Chios 71 Chrestos 421 Christianity 309 Cicero, M. Tullius 139, 234, 260 Circus Factions 416–418 Cirta Confederation 266 Citerior Tarraconensis 318, 330, 337, 341 citizenship (Roman) 328, 450 civitas libera 401 Claudius Gallus 365 Claudius 298 Clodia Flaccus, Aulus 247 Clodius Albinus 364 Clodius Flaccus, A. 231, 238

Index of Subjects Cluniensis 337 Cohors I Chalcienorum equitata 361–62 Cohors VI Commagenorum 361, 363 College of Augustales (so called) 165–76 coloni 263–64, 279 Colonia Claudia Neronensis Puteoli 209 Columella 330, 340 Cominius Heres, M. 252 Cominius Pyrrichus, C. 208 Commodus 330, 357, 361, 363, 365 Constantine 418 construction 72, 75, 393, 394 consul suffectus 395 contractors 61, 66, 75 Corduba 251, 292, 297, 329, 330, 336, 339 Cornelia Aciliana 309, 319 Cornelius Valens 311, 319, 320 Cornelius Viator, son of Arancises 311, 319 Coronea 397 corrector 395, 401 ,402 ,403 Cossonius Eggius Marullus, L. 361 Crete 86 n. 8, 90–94 Ctesiphon 358, 359, 362 cubicula 198, 201–02, 204–08, 210, 212, 215 Cumae 157, 248 cunei 219, 221, 224 curiae 168, 172–176, 263–265, 269, 270, 274 curiales 264–265, 269 Cussius Phoebianus, P. 309, 316, 320 Cyzicus 74 n. 18, 409–410, 412, 414, 417, 418, 421, 422, 424, 425 n. 48, 426 damatio memoriae 360–361 Damatrios 100 Dameas 114 damiourgos 109 Damonikos 114–115 Damopeithes 113, 115 Daos 61 n. 16 Dea Caelestis 365 decuriones 219, 239, 260, 263–64, 269–72 defixiones 30, 151–153, 156, 159–62 Delian 138, 144 Delos 19, 22, 68, 75, 121, 125–26, 135–38, 140–41, 144–46, 187, 450–52, 454 Delphi 60 n. 14, 103, 115 Demeter and Kore 78 Demeter Malophoros 153–54

457 Demetrios of Phaleron 60 n. 14 Demetrios Poliorcetes 137 Demetrous 22 demonyms 264, 267–70, 272–74 Demophantos 37, 38 destrictarium 227, 229 Dexippos Pancharou Paianieus 120–130 Dikaiarchos 115 Dio Cassius See “Cassius Dio” Diodoros Pasparos 128–129 Diodotos 144 Dionysia 40 Dionysios 19–20, 144 Dionysius I of Syracuse 72 Dionysophon 17 Dionysus 22, 81 n. 44, 137 Dioskourides 20 dipiniti 18, 20, 30, 179, 189, 241, 247, 255 Domitian 220, 233, 250 Domitius Eques, L. 311, 318 Dorimachos 116 Doryphoros 140 Dracon 115 Drosis 14 duas patrias theory 326 duoviri 221, 224–26, 228–29, 238–43, 280–81 Dura-Europos 19, 22, 30, 187 dwarves, dancing 141 Ebora 312, 348 Ebro Valley 335 Echekrates 28 edicta munera 251–52, 258 Egnatius Postumus, C. 224 Egnatius Victor Lollianus, L. 393–405 Egypt 125 n. 24, 373–391, 401 n. 20, 423 n. 39 Elagabalus 363 Elateia 26 Eleusis 57, 60, 403 Elgin throne 137, 144–146 Entella 88–90, 97 Epaphras 413, 414 ephebes 18, 124, 125, 126, 128, 129, 130, 395, 423 Ephesus 18, 19, 21, 76, 142, 143, 144, 397, 424 Epidaurus 65, 66 Epigenes 144, 145 n. 20 Epikourios 103

458 epistatai 60, 67 n. 34 Equestrian Order 264, 306, 309–10, 319, 452 Ergasion 61 n. 16 erotes 141 Erythrae 37, 71, 408 n. 3 Etruria 153 Euboea 24, 77, 106 euergetism 85, 219–43 Euippos 115 Euphemos 421 Euthydemos 57, 59 n. 9 Eutychus Neronianus 251 Fabia L. f. Fabulla 311, 315 Faustinus, Julius 388 Feriale Duranum 358, 359 Fidenae 241, 249 figurines (magical) 152–53, 155 filiaster/filiastra 310 Flavian Amphitheater 249–50 Florius Vegetus 309, 319 fortifications 70–83, 104, 393 Forum Baths (Pompeii) 226, 237, 242 Forum Popillii (ager Falernus) 255 freedmen 282, 285–93, 295, 297, 310, 312–13, 436, 448–50, 452 fullers 211–15 Fulvia Plautilla 359 Fulvius Plautianus 360 Gades 251, 329–30, 336, 340 Gaius (Caligula) 233 Galatia 395 Gallia Narbonensis 155, 292, 296, 336 Gallus Marianus 376 n. 8 games (ludi) 45, 399 Ganswürger 139 Gaul 158, 329, 331, 333 Gela 28, 89, 91, 153 Gelasios 31 Gemellae 361 genos (Attic) 402–403 Geta 359, 361–64, 367, 397 Gigthis 262, 264, 268 gladiators 10, 157, 166, 179, 185–86, 188, 231–33, 238, 241, 243, 246–57, 329 Gordian III 271, 361, 363, 396

Index of Subjects graffiti 13–24, 165–76, 179–93, 197–216, 246–47, 251–52, 254–55 Granius Exochus 313, 315, 320 Granius Probus, M. 310, 319 Great Gods 122, 125, 127, 128, 129, 130 gymnasium 14, 16, 81, 103, 124, 125, 126, 128, 129, 130, 142, 143 n. 18, 397, 399, 422 n. 32, 423–425 Hadrian 249, 260, 274, 288, 357, 359, 361–62, 365–66, 376, 388, 393–95 Halai 28 n. 70 harbors 63, 76, 80, 128, 142, 143 n. 18 Harmodios and Aristogeiton 52, n. 50, 138 Harmonia 21, 27 n. 68 Hebe 424 n. 44 Hellenotamiai 42–43 Henzen, Wilhelm 282 Hera 101, 143, 424 Heracles 40, 58–61, 144 Herculaneum 18, 140, 165–76, 179–81, 183–90, 192, 208, 248–49, 252–55, 257–58 Herennia Aphrodite 310, 319 Herennia C. f. Optata 312 Herennius Severus, M. 312 herm 137–141, 142 n. 14, 144, 146 Hermes 103, 126 n. 33, 144 Hermione 414 n. 19 Herulians 393–396, 405 Hieron 421 Himera 153 Hispania 188, 292, 295, 309–11, 315–16, 318–19, 328–33, 335–50, 362 Historia Augusta 360, 364, 366 Histria 262 Holconii 224–28, 238, 242–43 Holconius Rufus, M. 224–25, 238, 242–43 honorific 395, 403 Honorius 360 House of Epigrams (Pompeii) 198 House of the Black Salon (Pompeii) 168 House of the Etruscan Colonnade (Pompeii) 170 House of the Gladiators (Pompeii) 254 House of the Labyrinth (Pompeii) 166 House of the Triclinium (Pompeii) 198, 211

459

Index of Subjects Hyakinthos 22 Hyères 155 Hygeia 104 Hymettian 60

Kleinias 14 Kleonikos 114 koinon 91, 93 n. 29, 115 Kriton 115

Ibiza 235 Ibycus 141 n. 12 Iliberris 329 Imbros 121, 127 immigrants 10, 326–50, 450 imperial cult (Roman) 170, 236, 269 Inn of Eumachia (Pompeii) 198, 205 Insula IV (Pompeii) 252 Iphidamos 28 Iphikrates 46 Ipsos 121 Ischomachos 49 Isis 423 n. 39 isopoliteia 85–101 isopsephic 21, 382, 387, 389 Italica 329, 336, 340 Ithomatas 101 Iulia Glyconis 312 Iulia Severa Audalea 310, 317 Iulianus, A. 171 Iulius Polybius, C. 176 Iulius Speratus, C. 209 Iulius Verinus, M. 309, 316 Ius Latii 328

Laconia 106 Lambaesis 356–367 Lamia 107, 121, 141 land 38, 51, 56, 64, 65, 76, 77, 83, 109 Lanuvium 223, 232, 233 Laodicea on the Lycus 81 Large Theater (Pompeii) 221, 230, 238, 241–42 Latium 333, 350 Law of the XII Tables 155–56 League 94–96, 100 leasing 56–66 Lebisinia Auge 309–10, 316, 320 legatus pro praetore 395 leges theatrales 241 Legion III Augusta 359–60, 362 Legion III Gallica 365–66 Lemnos 120–130 Leontinoi 28 n. 72 Lepcis Magna 158, 262–64, 268–69, 273, 275 Lepreon 107, 111 Lesis 16 Lex Coloniae Genetivae/Lex Ursonensis 226, 239, 248, 269, 280, 310 Lex Irnitana 239, 269, 280 Lex Lauriacensis 280 Lex Tarentina 220, 227 Licinius Marinus, C. 309, 319 Lilybaeum 139 Limenia 413–414, 426 limes 335 limestone 60, 64, 71, 107, 109, 111, 116, 393 Lindia 139 Lindos 136, 138, 139 liturgy 107 Livianos 31 Locri 154 Loukos 20 n. 22 Lousoi 109 Lucan 330 Lucanius Avitus, M. 316 Lucceius Albanus 207 Lucensis 337, 349

Julia Domna 359, 361–65 Julia Soaemias 363 Julius Caesar, C. 170, 250, 272 Julius Lepidus Tertullus 365 Junius Brutus Pera 246 Juno Sospita 223, 232–33 Kabeiroi See Great Gods Kalabsha 374, 387, 390 Kallias 105 Kallikrates 62 Kallimedon 424 n. 45 Kallisthenes 41 Kallistratos 108–109 Kambylas 26 Katadesmoi 151–162 Kephisodotos 135 Kerameikos 14

460 Lucian 14, 27, 165 Lucius Verus 362 Ludi Apollinares 256 ludi scaenici 220, 234 Ludi Victoriae Caesaris 256 lumina opstruenda 225 Lusitania 291, 298, 309–13, 316, 329–30, 333, 336–37, 346–49 Lysimachus 121 Lysitheos 80 Macedonia 72 n. 8, 79, 82, 121, 414 n. 15 Madauros 263 magic 10, 17, 30, 32, 151–55, 157–159, 387–90 Magna Graecia 154–55, 158 Magnesia on the Maeander 81 Magnius Severus, M. 271 Mahdia shipwreck 136–141 Makistos 111 Makron 17 Mamius Anicetus 172, 176 Mandoulis 377, 387 Mantineia 107 n. 26 manumission 105, 122 Marcus Aurelius 357, 362, 365 Marinos 31 Marius Maximus 360 Marsala 156 Martial 249, 329, 330 Martino 26 Massilia 336, 340 Maximinus Thrax 361 Medinet Madi 374, 389 Meduttius Fuscus, M. 313, 315 Meduttius Philetus, T. 313, 315 Megalopolis 105 Meixidemos 61 Memnon 373–390 Menodotos 144, 145 Menophilos 421, 424, 425 Mercatus Apollinares 256 mercenaries 80, 114 Mérida 291, 337 Mesopotamia 359, 364 Messenia 94–96, 100, 103, 115–116 Messenius Eunomus, C. 172 Metapontum 154 Methone 28

Index of Subjects Metropolis 397 Miletus 87, 88 n. 16–17, 397, 417 Mithras 30, 31 Mithridatic Wars 75, 129 Moirokles 58–63, 66–67 Molossos 66 Mommsen, Theodor 223, 225, 228, 239, 279 Monte Testaccio 330 Morgantina 155–156 Munatius Asclepiades, L. 312, 316, 320 munera 238, 243, 246, 248, 251–52, 258 municipes 232, 239, 260, 263–65, 279 Myriskos 20 Myron 136, 140 Mysia 410, 412, 414, 421 mystery religion 127, 128, 129, 373, 403 Naion 414 n. 15 Nanon 414 n. 15 Naples Archaeological Museum Napon 414 n. 15 Narbo 292, 337, 347 Nason 414 n. 15 Nauson 414 n. 15 Nauton 414 n. 15 Naxos 414 n. 15 Necropoleis 153–56, 283–84 Nero 165, 233, 250–51, 313 Nestor, cup of 23–24 Nicomedia 312 Nikareta 107 Nikippa Pasia 107 Nikokles 75 Nikomedes 139, 143 n. 18 Nikomedia 144 Nikon 80–81 Nisyros 76 Nola 248, 251–53, 255–57, 286 nouerca 310 Novius Priscus, L. 208 Nuceria 248, 254–55 Numantia 311 Numisius Genialis 249 nundinae 247 Nymphaion 19, 20, 30 Oea 273 Oinanthios

115

167

Index of Subjects Olbia 75, 87 Olbios 410, 412 Olisipo 310, 317 Olympia 45, 111, 143 onomastics 310, 312, 314, 319, 331 origo 331–33, 337–50 Oropos 73 n. 10, 77 Osiris 158 Ostia 18, 83, ovolo 397 Oxyrhynchus 175, 385 Paccius Maximus 387, 389 Pakkios 97, 387 Palermo 153 palmette 399 Pan 377 Pannonia Inferior 396 Pantares 28 Panteles 28 Pantomimes 208–09, 236, 238 Paphos 75 papyri 16–8, 39, 46, 143, 173, 175, 188, 192, 307, 385, 389, 401 Paros 90–93, 98–99 Parthians 359, 364 Patroios 104 Pella 17, 19, 29 Pergamon 126, 128, 129, 142 n. 16 Pericles 26, 44, 51, 60 Pescennius Niger 364 Petronius Mamertinus, M. 388 Phamenoth 376, 379, 385 Phanagoreia 25 Phanokles 80 Pherai 29 Phidis 387 Phigaleia 94–96, 100, 103–117 Phila 17 Philae 374, 390 Philip the Arab 396 Philista 26 Philistides 62 Philokomos 58–60 Philoxenus Glossator 152 Phocis 26 Phormisios 50–51 Phrygia 82 n. 47, 404 n. 36

461 pilgrimage 373, 419, 423 n. 39 piracy 92 Piraeus 57, 59 n. 11, 61–65, 72, 74, 76, 80, 393 Pisidia 404 n. 26, 27 Pithos painter 26 Pitthon 19 Plataea 72, 397 Platius Plautianus 309 Plato 16, 142 Plautus 165 Pliny the Younger 165, 309, 329 Plutarch 236, 452 Plynteria 402 Po Valley 333 poietoi 48, 49 poletai 61–65 Polias 403 politeia 50, 51, 86, 87, 107 Polycleitus 140 Pompeii 13, 18, 20–1, 153, 156, 166–67, 175, 197–216, 219–43, 246–49, 251–52, 254–58, 451 See also: “Forum Baths;” “House” Pompeius Magnus, Cn. 250 Pompeius Strabo, Cn. 328 Pomponius Mela 330 Pontia 414 n. 18, 19 Popillia Rectina 309 Poppaea Sabina 313 Porcius, M. 246 Porta Ardeatina 157 Porta San Sebastiano 158 Poseidon 22, 106, 117, 414 n. 18 Potamon 421 praefectus urbi 396, 404 praetor 13 Praxiteles 135, 136, 140, 141 prayer 30, 40 n. 11 priuignus/a 310–11, 320–21 proconsul 401, 402, 403, 404 Proculus, A. 171 proedria 39 Prokleidas 104 n. 12, 106 proskynemata 373, 374, 377, 378, 379, 385, 387, 388, 389 prostates 404 Protogenes of Olbia 75 protome 141

462 province (Roman) 125, 395, 397, 401, 402 n. 23 proxeny 73, 105, 106, 108, 112, 113, 115, 116 Prytaneion (Athens) 37, 39, 41, 45, 46, 51, 53, 137 n. 7 Ptolemy IV 13 Punic Wars 88, 328 Puteoli 209, 226, 248, 252, 273, 281, 296, 360, 450–51 Pydna 121 Pylades (freedman of Augustus) 238 Pythodoros 62 quadruped relief 410, 412 quarries 56–68 Quinctius Valgus, C. 246 Quintillian 140, 330 Quintilius Crescens, L. 211 Quintus Pythonax, M. 385, 387, 390, 391 Raecius Felix, L. 252 Reflectance Transformation Imaging (RTI) 171, 436 Reggio Calabria (Rhegion) 155 Rhamnous 70, 77–83 Rhodes 135, 136 Roccagloriosa 154 Romanization 156, 273, 328, 337, 350 Rome 13–4, 18, 30, 136, 139, 141–42, 145, 153, 155–56, 158–59, 183, 221, 233, 235, 238, 240–41, 243, 249–51, 256, 261, 264, 266, 279–85, 287, 295–96, 298, 307, 326, 328, 330, 333–34, 336–37, 350, 356, 360, 364, 366, 396, 433, 435–36, 452 Rossius Vitulus, M. 260 Sabeiniana Hamillo 403 Sabeinos 421 Sabina 376 n. 8 Saginius, L. 219, 224, 228, 239 Saguntum 309, 319, 346 sailors 19, 75, 127, 128 Salamis 128 Samothrace 127, 128 n. 43 Sarapis 387 n. 24 Saturos 113, 115 scaenae frons 230 sculptors 135–146

Index of Subjects Second Sophistic 401 Segobriga 337, 340 Seleucids 74 Seleucus I 121 Sempronia Campana 311, 318 Senate (Roman) 250, 279, 298, Seneca the Elder 330 Seneca the Younger 330 Septimius Severus 356–58, 359, 363, 365–66, 373 n. 2 servi publici 279–99 Severus Alexander 363, 396 Sicca Veneria 269 Sicily 27, 88, 139, 153, 154–58 Silanion 142, 143 Simon 25, 114 sitesis 46, 49 Skyros 121 slaves 10, 27, 202, 204–05, 328 Smyrna 18 n. 12, 19, 20, 30, 73, 75, 107, 109, 397 sodales Antoniniani 395 sodales Augustales 280, 285 Solon 37, 45, 46, 48, 50, 126 Soteira 103 Soter 104 Sounion 77 Sparta 46, 106, 120 Spartacus 250 spectators 230, 241, 243, 246, 248–49 spolia 142 Stabian Baths 220, 226–28 stasis 42 sterotes 31 Strabo 14, 250, 328–29, 374–76, 414 Strongoli 154 Suetonius 13, 165, 240, 250 Sufetula 271 Sulpicii Tablets 256 supports 141 n. 12 Susa 157–59, 376 Sympheron 421 symposium 16, 23 n. 47, 24, 32 syndikos 107, 111 Synpheron 421 Syracuse 72 Syria 366

463

Index of Subjects T(h)aliarcus Munatianus 285 Tacitus 241, 249 Tarentum 154, 235, 340 Tarraconensis 309, 313, 318, 329–30, 333, 336–37, 341, 346, 349–50, 362 taxes 61, 62–63, 65, 66, 67, 109 Telemachos 62, 63, 65, 68 Telesterion 60, 61 n. 15, 67 n. 34 Temnos 87, 88 n. 16 Tenos 27 n. 69, 80, 91 n. 25 Teos 74 n. 18, 87, 91 n. 25, 414 n. 15 Terentia L. l. Felicula 311, 315 Thalia 21 Thasos 74 n. 18, 75, 144 theatrum tectum 221, 230 Thebes (Egypt) 373, 375, 376, Theodora 19 Theodoros 31 Theodosia 107 Theodosios 22, 144, 145 Theodota 27 Theomneste 20 Theotimos 82 Theozotides 37–51 Thera 18 n. 13, 414 n. 16 Theseus 62, 63, 138 Thespiae 107 n. 28, 397 Thetima 17 Thibaris 266 Thrace 404 n. 36 Thugga 266–267 Tiber 231, 283 Tiberius 13, 142–43, 249, 251, 449 Timgad 236 trade networks 78, 105, 414 Trajan 139, 143, n. 18, 165, 281, 309, 357, 401 triclinium 22 Tripolitania 269, 364, 366 Troezen 74, 397 Troy 29, 373 Tullia Tusca 313

Tullius, M. Cicero See “Cicero, M. Tullius” Tullius Habiti Modestus, Q. 313 Tyche 21, 424 Ulpius Asklepiades Eurytiadas, M.

399

Valeria Proba 313, 315 Valerian 361, 396 Valerian 361 Valerius Venustus, C. 207 Valerius, M. 232 Venetia 262 Venidius Ennychus, L. 168 Venus Caelestis 365 Venus, Temple of 181–82, 225 Vesuvius 179 Via Latina 156 Vibius Restitutus 209–10 vicomagistri 237 Villa dei Papiri, Herculaneum 140 Villa Mattei 142 n. 16 Vincentius (pantomime) 236 Virgin Mary 21, 142, 394 Visibility Graph Analysis 198, 200–01, 206, 209–10, 215 visual control 200–03, 206, 212–13 Voconius Placidus, C. 309, 319 Voconius Romanus 309, 313, 319, 321 votive 104, 109, 117, 412, 413, 423 n. 35 Vulius, C. 227, 229 wall painting 22 women 17, 21, 26, 106 workshops 16, 64, 80, 141–142, 145 Xenokles

16

Zenobia of Palmyra Zeugma 10, 22, 30 Zeus 28, 105, 117

373 n. 2

Index of Literary Sources Ath. 15.700d

235

Aul. Gell. 1.6 Aul. Gell. 23.2

308 224

Aur. Vict. 11.12

326

Caes. BC 1.14 Caes. BC 1.39.2 Caes. BC 1.51.1–6 Caes. BC 1.83.5 Caes. BC 3.23.5 Caes. BG 5.13.17

250 329 329 329 329 329

Callim. Epigr. 29.1

28 n. 70

Cat. 37.9–10

165

Cic. Att. 138 Cic. Att. 152 Cic. Cat. 2.26 Cic. Cat. 2.9 Cic. Cat. 3.8 Cic. Leg. 2.5 Cic. Off. 1.17.54 Cic. Off. 2.57–8 Cic. Verr. 2.4.32 Cic. Verr. 28.32

250 250 250 250 250 326 308 248 139 235

Clem. Al. Strom. 1.16.75.8

65 n. 27

Cod. Iust. 5.9.2

308

Cul. 65–68

139

45 n. 25 128 n. 50

Dem. 18.113 Dem. 18.285 Dem. 20.102 Dem. 21.62, scholia to Dem. 23.130 Dem. 23.136 Dem. 43.3 Dem. 43.51

424 n. 45

Dem. 43.58

72 121 n. 8 45 n. 27 46 n. 32 46 n. 32 46 n. 32 45 n. 28 45 n. 27–28, 51 n. 46 38 n. 7

Aen. Tact. 3.1 Aen. Tact. 3.11 Aen. Tact. 3.22

74 n. 13 73 73

Aeschin. 1.10 Aeschin. 1.39, scholia to Aeschin. 1.172 Aeschin. 2.76 Aeschin. 3.154 Aeschin. 3.195, scholia to

126 n. 31 51 n. 46 43 n. 18 121 n. 4 40 n. 11, 44, 45 n. 25 50

Amm. Marc. 14.1.9

237

Andoc 1.98 Andoc. 3.12

38 n. 4, 39 121 n. 5

Anth. Pal. 7.421–429 Anth. Pal. 7.427 Anth. Pal. 7.429

387 n. 23 387 387

Antiph. 1.26

43 n. 18

App. 1.14 App. 2.16.112 App. 5.24

250 13 n. 2 233

Ar. Av. 1660–1666 Ar. Eccl. 682–683 Ar. Eq. 1404–1405 Ar. Eq. 575 Ar. Eq. 709 Ar. Eq. 766 Ar. Eq. 786–787

45 n. 28 46 n. 31 46 n. 32 46 n. 32 46 n. 32 46 n. 32 46 n. 31

[Arist.] Ath. Pol. 24.3 Arist. Pol. 1268a Arist. Pol. 1330b Arist. Pol. 1330b–1331a Arist. Pol. 1331a

47 n. 34 45 n. 25 73 n.11 70 71

Aristid. Or. 1.368 Aristid. Or. 40.3 Ath. 3.104c–d

465

Index of Literary Sources Dem. 43.61 Dem. 43.78 Dem. 44.12 Dem. 44.14–15 Dem. 44.62 Dem. 44.66 Dem. 45 Dem. 46.14 Dem. 58.30–32 Dem. 59 Dem. 9.42

45 n. 28 45 n. 27 45 n. 27 45 n. 28 45 n. 27 45 n. 28 50 n. 43 45 n. 27 49 50 n. 43 37

Din. 1.101

Hdt. 6.34–41 Hdt. 6.41

120 n. 2 120 n. 2

Hegem. Acta Arch. 61.5

236

Hermog. On Staseis, scholia to (Walz V: 343 ll. 10–17) 50 Herondas Mimiambus 4.30–1

137

39 n. 9

Hom. Il. 11.632–637 Hom. Od. 8.270–285

24 n. 49 120 n. 1

Dio 44.16.2 Dio 55.25.2–3 Dio 62.16.2 Dio 76 (75).9.3–5

250 296 165 358

Isae. 11.1–3 Isae. 4.15–18 Isae. 6.47 Isae. 7.20

45 n. 28 45 n. 28 45 n. 28, 51 n. 46 45 n. 27–28

Diod. Sic. 15.40.2 Diod. Sic. 16.87 Diod. Sic. 19.68.3–4 Diod. Sic. 4.3.4

103 121 n. 8 121 n. 9 28 n. 70

Isoc. 8.82

40 n. 11, 45 n. 25

Lib. Or. 11.267

237

Diog. Laert. 1.55

45 n. 25, 47 n. 33

Dion. Hal. Lys. 32 Dion. Hal. Lys. 33

51 n. 45 51 n. 45

Livy 24.42.7–8 Livy 43.16.13 Livy Per. 16 Livy Per. 59.8 Livy Per. 95

329 280 246 308 250

Epic. Sent. Vat. 31 Eubulus fr. 93 (KA)

71 28 n. 70

FGrH 338 F1 FGrH 720 F2 14

38 n. 5 128 n. 48

Luc. Dial. Meretr. 10.4 Luc. Dial. Meretr. 4.3 [Ps.] Lucian Am. 16

14 165 165

Lucil. Frag. 148

221

Frag. Vat. 320–1

308

Lycoph. Alex.

387

Gai. Inst. 1.84

298

Galen 18.29 K

65 n. 27

Hdn. 3.9.9–11

358

Hdt. 2.51.2 Hdt. 2.52.1 Hdt. 5.26–27 Hdt. 6.104 Hdt. 6.136–140

127 n. 39 127 n. 39 120 n. 2 120 n. 2 120 n. 2

Lys. 12 50 n. 43 Lys. 12.96 Lys. 2.18–19 Lys. 20.17 Lys. 34.3 Lys. 64 Lys. fr. 10 (Todd) Lys. fr. 131 (Carey) Lys. fr. 150 (Carey) Lys. fr. 59 (Thalheim)

43 46 n. 31 42 51 n. 45 39, 44 41 n. 13 44 n. 23 41 n. 13 41 n. 13

466 Mart. Epig. 1.41.12 Mart. Epig. 14.203 Mart. Epig. 3.63.5 Mart. Epig. 5.78.26–8 Mart. Epig. 6.71.2 Mart. Spec. 3 Meleagros, Greek Anthology 5.136 Meleagros, Greek Anthology 5.166 Meleagros, Greek Anthology 5.191 Meleagros, Greek Anthology 5.197

Index of Literary Sources 329 329 329 329 329 249

Plut. Crass. 8.1 Plut. Dem. 27.2 Plut. Lys. 835f–836a Plut. Quaest. Con. 8.726a Plut. Them. 6.2 [Plut.] X orat. 834a–b [Plut.] X orat. 847e

250 424 n. 45 50 n. 43 236 38 n. 5 38 n. 6 39 n. 9

28 n. 70

PMG IV 296–466

30 n. 86

16

Poll. 8.46 Poll. 9.35

41 n. 13 71 n. 5

Polyb. 2.44 Polyb. 3.33.16 Polyb. 30.20–21 Polyb. 4.3.5–11 Polyb. 4.3–4.7 Polyb. 4.6.2 Polyb. 4.6.7–12 Polyb. 4.6.8 Polyb. 4.79.5–8 Polyb. 15.27.4

116 329 121 n. 12 95 n. 34 116 116 95 n. 34 116 116 13

Porphyrio ad Epist. 1.5.1

139

16 16

Paul. Sent. 1.21.13

308

Paus. 1.4.6 Paus. 2.34.11 Paus. 5.17.4 Paus. 8.39–41

128 n. 50 414 n. 19 143 103

Phaedrus Fabulae 5 praef. 1–9

140

Philo Bel. 1.10 Philo Bel. 1.86

76 71

Philos. VS 2.20.2

366

Pl. Leg. 778d-3 Pl. Menex. 243e Pl. Menex. 248e Pl. Rep. 566b

70 n.2 43 n. 20 45 n. 25 43 n. 18

Plaut. Merc. 408–9

165

Plin. Ep. 1.15.3 Plin. Ep. 2.13.4 Plin. Ep. 8.8 Plin. HN 33.155 Plin. HN 33.97 Plin. HN 34.14 Plin. HN 34.84 Plin. HN 36.11

329 319 165 139 329 235 139 375

Plut. Arat. 331 Plut. Caes. 62.7

116 13 n. 1

Procop. De bellis 1.25.37–39 417 n. 25 Procop. Historia Arcana 1.8.41 417 n. 25 Ruschenbusch 1966 F144a, F 145

47 n. 33–34

Serv. ad Aen. 3.67

246

SHA, Sev. Al. 14.5 SHA, Sev. Al. 18.3 SHA, Sev. Al. 24.4 SHA, Sev. Al. 8.7

360 366 360 364

Stat. Silv. 1.6.85 ff.

233

Strabo 3.1.8 Strabo 3.5.3 Strabo 5.4.13 Strabo 10.3.21 Strabo 12.8.11 Strabo 14.5.14 Strabo 17.1.46

329 329 250 127 n. 38 414 n. 21 14 374

467

Index of Literary Sources Suda s.v. Ἀγράφου µετάλλου δίκη

65

Suet. Aug. 70.2 Suet. Dom. 4.1 Suet. Gaius 18–19 Suet. Iul. 10.2 Suet. Iul. 31 Suet. Iul. 45.2 Suet. Tib. 52.3

165 233 233 250 250 165 13

Tac. Agr. 10.2 Tac. Ann. 4.62–3 Tac. Ann. 14.21 Tac. Ann. 15.44 Tac. Hist. 2.34–6

320 249 233 233 250

Theoc. Id. 2.151–152

28 n. 70

Thuc. 1.122.3 Thuc. 2.46.1 Thuc. 2.78.1 Thuc. 5.84–116

87 n. 10 45 n. 25 72 85

Ulp. Dig. 24.1.32.13 Ulp. Dig. 35.1.15 Ulp. Dig. 50.17.30 Ulp. Reg. 13 Ulp. Reg. 14

307 307 307 308 308

Val. Max. 2.3.2 Val. Max. 2.4.7 Val. Max. 7.6.3

250 246 329

Vitr. 7 pref. 16–17 Vitr. 7.2

60 n. 14 121 n. 12

Vulg. Levit. 15

236

Xen. Hell. 1.2.14 Xen. Hell. 2.4.22 Xen. Hell. 4.8.10 Xen. Hell. 5.1.31 Xen. Hier. 4.3

65 n. 25 43 n. 20 72 121 n. 6 43 n. 18

Index of Epigraphic and Papyrological Sources Accame 1941/3 no. 14–16 122 n. 14 Accame 1941/3 no. 17 122 AE 1895, 204 359, 364 AE 1900, 33 = 1942/43, 90 = 1942/43.112 = 2003, 2020a = 2006, 1800a 361 AE 1902, 10 364 AE 1908, 107 = ILS 9420 = 1947, 19 = SupplIt. n.s., 5 (1989): 253–54 no. 3 = 1990, 396 236 AE 1908, 222 340 AE 1911, 132 347 AE 1920, 13 363 AE 1920, 95 283 AE 1921, 83 342 AE 1931, 10 = 1933, 154 = 1975, 396 290 AE 1933, 67 359 AE 1933, 95 341 AE 1939, 213 366 AE 1947, 59 285 AE 1948, 214 366 AE 1950, 58 359, 362 AE 1955, 137 364 AE 1956, 122 236 AE 1957, 123 = 2010, 1834 365 AE 1959, 302 = 1999, 1289 293 AE 1960, 190 317 AE 1961, 53 263 AE 1962, 184b 261 AE 1964, 69a 303 AE 1967, 237 362 AE 1975, 19 339 AE 1978, 41 283 AE 1978, 342 338 AE 1979, 169 171 AE 1984, 65 342 AE 1985, 226 284 AE 1988, 27 = EAOR I 87 251 AE 1989, 135 283 AE 1985, 252 283 AE 1989, 182b 253–54 AE 1990, 572 319 AE 1992, 152 339 AE 1992, 153 340 AE 1992, 154 349 AE 1992, 155 346

AE 1992, 156 AE 1993, 907 AE 1993, 910 AE 1998, 282 AE 1998, 747 AE 1999, 1815 AE 2000, 534 AE 2000, 676 AE 2001, 853 = SupplIt n.s. 25 (2010): 47–50 no. 16 AE 2001, 854 = SupplIt n.s. 25 (2010): 50–55 no. 17 AE 2001, 1049 AE 2003, 1582a AE 2004, 539 AE 2004, 1878 AE 2006, 104 AE 2008, 661 AE 2010, 530 AE 2010, 531 AE 2010, 542 AE 2010, 544 AE 2010, 570 AE 2010, 674 AE 2012, 466 Ager, Arbitrations 40

344 316 316 286 291 273 289 313 286

Ager, Arbitrations 82 Agora XVI 106A Agora XVII 133 Agora XIX L13 Agora XIX P26 ARV 308 no. 3 Athens NM 697 Audollent, DefixTab 271

286 291 293 289 273 363 315 290 290 290 290 291 316 289 94 n. 31, 95 n. 33, 115 n. 40 33 41 n. 14 81 n. 44 66 n. 29 61, 63 n. 19 26 n. 58 141 n. 12 27 n. 68

Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 5.1–3 Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 5.1–3 Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 6.1 Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 8.1 Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 8.2 Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 11.1 Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 11.5 Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 14.3.3

20 n. 23 21 n. 26 20 n. 25 20 n. 23 20 n. 23 20 n. 24 20 n. 23 20 n. 24

469

Index of Epigraphic and Papyrological Sources Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 16.1 Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 16.1 Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 22.1 Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 24.1–3 Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 24.2 Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 25.2 Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 25.9 Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 26.2 Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 27.3 Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 29.1 Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 29.12 Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 42.1 Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 42.2 Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 52.1 Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 78.2 Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 100.1 Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 100.2 Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 100.6 Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 103.3 Bagnall et al. 2016 no. 109.1 BE 1940 no. 117 BE 1967 no. 278 Bernand, Inscr. métriques 168 Bernand, Inscr. métriques 169 Bull. Comm. Arch. Rom. 43, 1915, p. 61 Bull. Comm. Arch. Rom. 43, 1915, p. 323

20 n. 22 20 n. 23 21 n. 26 20 n. 23 21 n. 26 20 n. 24 20 n. 23 20 n. 23 21 n. 26 21 n. 30 20 n. 23 20 n. 24 21 n. 26 20 n. 25 21 n. 28 20 n. 23 21 n. 32 21 n. 29 20 n. 24 20 n. 24 91 n. 24 104 n. 12 387 387

CEG I 454 CID II 4 CID III 5, 3 CID IV 99 CIG 2017 CIG 2655 CIG 3664 CIG 3665

23 n. 47 103 103 115 412 n. 11 409 n. 8 425 n. 47–48 419, 425, 425 n. 47

CIG 3837–3838 = IGR 4.566 = ILS 8805 CIG 4946 CIG 5119 CIG 6845 CIL I² 709 CIL II 38 = IRCP 331 CIL II 820 CIL II 871 CIL II 900

347 341

358 423 n. 39 387 n. 24 423 328 317 316 317 316

CIL II 1065 CIL II 3624 CIL II 3664 CIL II 4545 = IRC IV, 97 CIL II 4525 = IRC IV, 61 CIL II 5008 CIL II 5342 CIL II 5735 CIL II 5964 CIL II²/5 754 CIL II²/5 755 CIL II²/5 1022 CIL II²/7 301 CIL II²/14–1 365 CIL II²/14–1 366 CIL II²/14–1 367 CIL II²/14–1 741 CIL II²/14–2 1187 CIL II²/14–3 1211 CIL II²/14–3 1266 CIL II²/14–3 1697 CIL III 77 CIL III 3520 CIL III 8154 CIL IV 420 CIL IV 1179 = ILS 5143 = GladPar 10 CIL IV 1180 = GladPar 15 CIL IV 1181 = GladPar 19 CIL IV 1185 = GladPar 8 CIL IV 1186 = GladPar 25 CIL IV 1189 = GladPar 21 CIL IV 1190 = GladPar 22 CIL IV 1421 CIL IV 1422 CIL IV 1474 CIL IV 1807–1947b CIL IV 2387 CIL IV 2508 CIL IV 1517 CIL IV 1595 CIL IV 1762 CIL IV 1904, Add. p. 213, 465 CIL IV 2145 CIL IV 2146 CIL IV 2147 CIL IV 2150 CIL IV 2152

315 318 235 312 310 317 319 318 318 315 315 311 292, 295 309 309 309 319 319 319 319 319 388 363 363 176 255 255–56 255 255 256 256 256 251 166, 251 251 167 251 251 185 185 181 180 207 209–10 209 207–09 209

470 CIL IV 2154 CIL IV 2155 CIL IV 2157 CIL IV 2159 CIL IV 2162 CIL IV 2179 CIL IV 2180 CIL IV 2320 CIL IV 2396 CIL IV 2397 CIL IV 2461 Add. p. 223, 466 CIL IV 2487 CIL IV 3883 = GladPar 13 CIL IV 3884 = ILS 5145 = GladPar 5 CIL IV 4039 CIL IV 4040 CIL IV 4044 CIL IV 4045 CIL IV 4046 CIL IV 4049 CIL IV 4052 CIL IV 4095 CIL IV 4100 CIL IV 4102 CIL IV 4103 CIL IV 4104 CIL IV 4105 CIL IV 4106 CIL IV 4107 CIL IV 4108 CIL IV 4109 CIL IV 4110 CIL IV 4111 CIL IV 4112 CIL IV 4113 CIL IV 4115 CIL IV 4116 CIL IV 4117 CIL IV 4119 CIL IV 4120 CIL IV 4299 CIL IV 4353 = ILS 5142e CIL IV 4356 = ILS 5142d CIL IV 4397 CIL IV 4778 CIL IV 4839 CIL IV 7987

Index of Epigraphic and Papyrological Sources 208 207 207 207 208 208 208 182 185 185 180 180 255 255 199 199 203–04 203–05 204 204 204–05 215 212, 214 215 215 211 215 212, 215 211–12 215 212, 215 215 215 213 215 215 215 215 215 213 254, 256 247 247 247 338 21 n. 35 251

CIL IV 7988b–c = GladPar 20A CIL IV 7989a, c = GladPar 18 CIL IV 7991 = AE 1991: 433 = GladPar 9 CIL IV 7992 = AE 1915: 61a = GladPar 7 CIL IV 7993 = AE 1915: 61b = AE 1949:9 = GladPar 12 CIL IV 8020 CIL IV 8031 CIL IV 8055 CIL IV 8916 CIL IV 9003 CIL IV 9251 CIL IV 9962 = GladPar 27 CIL IV 9979 = GladPar 2 CIL IV 9980 = GladPar 3 CIL IV 9981a = GladPar 4 CIL IV 10173 = EAOR I 34 CIL IV 10172 = ILS 5152 = EAOR I 33 CIL IV 10236 CIL IV 10236a CIL IV 10237 CIL IV 10238a = GladPar 71 CIL IV 10237 CIL IV 10238 CIL IV 10238a CIL IV 10522 CIL IV 10528 = EAOR VIII 34 CIL IV 10535 CIL IV 10554 CIL IV 10555 CIL IV 10556 CIL IV 10579 = EAOR VIII.10 CIL IV 10643a CIL IV 10643c CIL IV 10672 CIL IV 10711 CIL V 715 = ILS 6682 = InscrIt. X, 4, 340 CIL V 920 CIL V 932 CIL V 2886 CIL V 3401 = ILS 6696 CIL V 3365 CIL V 3832 = IG XIV, 2312 CIL VI 9 CIL VI 121

255 255 255 255 255 185 246 185 247 186 153 256 255 255 255 251 251 251–52 251 251 251 251 251 251 189 252 208 189 189 189 249 208 208 189 185 297 345 336, 340 281 281 339 298 342 348

471

Index of Epigraphic and Papyrological Sources CIL VI 208a CIL VI 208b CIL VI 1188 = 1189 = 1190 = 31257 CIL VI 1361 CIL VI 1410 CIL VI 1446a CIL VI 1446b CIL VI 1454 CIL VI 1455 CIL VI 1456 CIL VI 1457 CIL VI 1458 CIL VI 1626 CIL VI 2043 = 32360 CIL VI 2082 = 32376 CIL VI 2085b = 32379 CIL VI 2106b–c CIL VI 2307–2332 CIL VI 2329–2330 CIL VI 2333–2349 CIL VI 2338–2339 CIL VI 2347–2349 CIL VI 2350–2374 CIL VI 2379 CIL VI 2381b CIL VI 2385 CIL VI 2454 CIL VI 2490 CIL VI 2536 CIL VI 2607 CIL VI 2614 CIL VI 2629 CIL VI 2685 CIL VI 2728 CIL VI 2754 CIL VI 2930 CIL VI 3349 CIL VI 3422 CIL VI 3491 CIL VI 3654 CIL VI 3685 = CIL VI, 30903 CIL VI 3853 CIL VI 3886 CIL VI 4433 CIL VI 4445 CIL VI 5337 CIL VI 6709 CIL VI 8056 CIL VI 9013

348 348 345 338 346 344 342 345 348 348 348 348 348 285 285 285 283 285 280, 285 285 280, 285 280 285 343 343 345 344 347 341 343 349 343 349 342 345 344 342 349 347 344 283 345 341 280 280 344 345 166 340

CIL VI 9587 CIL VI 9597 CIL VI 9634 CIL VI 10048 CIL VI 10184 CIL VI 11705 CIL VI 13820 CIL VI 14234 CIL VI 16100 CIL VI 16247 CIL VI 16310 CIL VI 18190 CIL VI 19279 CIL VI 20742 CIL VI 20768 CIL VI 21297 CIL VI 21569 CIL VI 21763 CIL VI 21956 CIL VI 24162 CIL VI 24212 CIL VI 27066 CIL VI 27198 CIL VI 28151 CIL VI 28624 CIL VI 28743 CIL VI 29724 CIL VI 30430 CIL VI 31267 CIL VI 31739 CIL VI 320981 CIL VI 32098m CIL VI 32323 CIL VI 32390 CIL VI 32682 CIL VI 34664 CIL VI 37541 CIL VI 37045 CIL VI 38809 CIL VI 38595 CIL VI 39136 CIL VI 39443 CIL VI 41084 CIL VII 52 = RIB 0159 CIL VII 168 = RIB 0452 CIL VII 184 = RIB 0256 CIL VIII 980 + p.1282 = ILTun. 838 = ILS 6817+p.188 CIL VIII 1495 + p.938=26590

345 338 339 337 345 339 320 348 349 344 349 346 346 339 339 346 348 341 344 345 345 338 346 340 346 346 341 340 338 346 340 336, 340 231, 233 285 348 339 338 328 340 339 344 285 343 348 345 345 267 269

472

Index of Epigraphic and Papyrological Sources

CIL VIII 2501 CIL VIII 2527 = 18039 CIL VIII 2550 = 18045 CIL VIII 2564 = 18052 = AE 1978.889 CIL VIII 2549 CIL VIII 2551 = 18046 CIL VIII 2552 = 18070 CIL VIII 2553 = 18047 = AE 1906.9 CIL VIII 2558 = AE 1920.12 = AE 1967.568 CIL VIII 2706 CIL VIII 4676 = 28073a = ILAlg. 1.2828 CIL VIII 5325 + p.1658 = ILAlg. 1.236 CIL VIII 5363 + p.1658 = ILAlg. 1.284 CIL VIII 8309 = 20135 = ILAlg. 2.3.7751 CIL VIII 6965 = ILAlg. 2.1.531 CIL VIII 7063 = ILAlg. 2.1.649 CIL VIII 8796 = 18021 CIL VIII 8797b CIL VIII10658 = 17588 CIL VIII 11040 CIL VIII 11340 CIL VIII 15881+ p.2707 = ILS 5505 CIL VIII 17587 CIL VIII 18248 = AE 1987, 1060 = AE 1992, 1865 CIL VIII 19493 CIL VIII 19494 CIL VIII 23832 CIL VIII 25519 CIL VIII 26591 = ILTun. 1427 CIL VIII 26622 = ILTun. 1437 CIL IX 00235 CIL IX, 699 = ILS 6476 CIL IX 733 CIL IX 793 CIL IX 821 = ILS 6480 CIL IX 1545 CIL X 95 CIL X 114 CIL X 787 CIL X 825 CIL X 829 = CIL I.1635 = AE 2009.52

362 363 364 363 363 364 364 364 364 363 273 269 269 359 359 359 366 366 362 264 264 269 362 361 266 266 267 260 266 266 340 281 343 342 281 281 225 236 224 240 220, 227

CIL X 852 = CIL I2 1632 = ILS 5627 CIL X 853 CIL X 854 CIL X 855 CIL X 856 CIL X 857a CIL X 857b CIL X 857c CIL X 857d CIL X 857d CIL X 894 CIL X 917 CIL X 924 CIL X 1718 CIL X 1074d CIL X 1411 CIL X 1412 CIL X 1462 CIL X 1684 CIL X 1781 / 1793 = AE 2011.70 CIL X 1883 CIL X 2052 CIL X 3942 = ILS 6319 CIL X 03964 CIL X 6332 CIL XI 844 CIL XI 1231 = ILS 6673 CIL XI 7248 CIL XII 412 CIL XII 412 CIL XII 735 CIL XII 3332 CIL XII 4366 CIL XII 4377 CIL XII 4536 CIL XII 4539 CIL XIII 259 CIL XIII 414 CIL XIII 586 CIL XIII 612 CIL XIII 621 CIL XIII 2580 CIL XIII 8334 CIL XIV 2121 = EAOR 4.27 CIL XIV 2470 CIL XIV 2613 CIL XIV 2884 CIL XIV 3795

246 219 219 219 219 219 219 219 219–20 224 219 219 219 360 221, 231, 238, 247 170 170 170 273 360 223 281 281 339 297 341 281 340 336, 340 336, 340 342 338 348 346 344 337, 347 343 343 343 342 342 338 281 223, 232 298 341 347 344

Index of Epigraphic and Papyrological Sources CIL XIV 4778 CIL XIV 4822 CIL XV 7558 CIL XVI 25 CILA Ja 1, 58 CILA Ja, 1, 59 Crawford 1996: 393–457

340 349 339 345 315 313 280

DNO 2454 DNO 3484 DNO 3485 DNO 3504 DNO 3505 DNO 3655 DNO 3975 DNO 3976 DNO 4068

137, 145 138 138 139 142 n. 15 144 144 144 140

EAOR II 78 EAOR IV 23 EE 7 897 = RIB 0535 EE 9 1058 = RIB 0492 EE 9 1063 = RIB 0501 EE 9 1064 = RIB 0502 EE 9 1075 = RIB 0518 EM 2922 EM 8904

250 250 346 347 347 347 336, 339 126 n. 30 106

F.Delphes III 2, 86 F.Delphes III 4, 127 F.Delphes III 4, 362 Finke 1928: 200, no. 328

115 115 115 297

Getty inv. 74.AA.12 Getty inv. 79.AB.138

137 141

Hasluck 1905 56 no. 4 412 n. 12 Hasluck 1910 275 no. 70 414 n. 17–18 HEp 7, 118 316 HEp 9, 743 317 Hübner 1894: 469–470, n. 7 (= Ephemeris Epigraphica VIII, p. 365, n. 25) = Epigrafía romana de Augusta Emerita 109 316 I.Col.Memnon 11 I.Col.Memnon 12 I.Col.Memnon 13 I.Col.Memnon 19 I.Col.Memnon 28

376 n. 9 376 n. 9 376 n. 9 376 n. 9, 385 376 n. 8–9

I.Col.Memnon 29 I.Col.Memnon 30 I.Col.Memnon 31 I.Col.Memnon 36 I.Col.Memnon 37 I.Col.Memnon 39 I.Col.Memnon 51 I.Col.Memnon 52 I.Col.Memnon 61 I.Col.Memnon 62 I.Col.Memnon 70 I.Col.Memnon 72 I.Col.Memnon 83 I.Col.Memnon 92 I.Col.Memnon 93 I.Col.Memnon 94 I.Col.Memnon 97 I.Col.Memnon 98 I.Col.Memnon 99 I.Col.Memnon 101 I.Col.Memnon 102 I.Col.Memnon 193 I.Col.Memnon 205 I.Col.Memnon 206 I.Col.Memnon 207 I.Col.Memnon 208 I.Cret II i 2 I.Délos 104 I.Délos 1412 I.Délos 1417 I.Délos 1423 I.Délos 1540 I.Délos 1703 I.Délos 2589 I.Eleusis 23 I.Eleusis 85 I.Eleusis 141 I.Eleusis 143 I.Eleusis 144 I.Eleusis 151 I.Eleusis 152 I.Eleusis 157 I.Eleusis 159 I.Eleusis 165 I.Eleusis 166 I.Eleusis 177 I.Eleusis 391

473 376 n. 7, 9 376 n. 9 376 n. 7, 9 376 n. 8 376 n. 9 376 n. 9 376 n. 9 376 n. 9 376 n. 9 376 n. 9 376 n. 9 376 n. 9 376 n. 9 376 n. 9 376 n. 9 376 n. 9 374, 385, 386 376 n. 9 376 n. 7, 9 376 n. 9 374, 379, 381, 383, 384, 385 385 n. 21 390 n. 40 390 n. 40 285 n. 20, 390 n. 40 390 n. 40 90–94 68 n. 35 126 n. 33 126 n. 33–34 126 n. 33 138 144 121 n. 12 60 n. 13, 67 n. 33 57, 58 n. 6 66 n. 29 60 n. 13–14, 61, 64 n. 24, 68 n. 35 60 n. 14 60 n. 14 60 n. 14 60 n. 14 60 n. 14, 67 n. 34 60 n. 14, 66 n. 30 60 n. 14 60 n. 13, 61 n. 16, 67, 67 n. 33, 68 n. 35 403 n. 28

474 I.Eleusis 411 I.Eleusis 412 I.Eleusis 438 I.Eleusis 588 I.Eleusis 625 I.Eleusis 643 I.Ephesus 510 I.Ephesus 510A I.Ephesus 511 I.Ephesus 511A I.Ephesus 512 I.Ephesus 513 I.Ephesus 514 I.Ephesus 514A I.Ephesus 554 I.Ephesus 664 I.Ephesus 664A I.Ephesus 3088 I.Ephesus 3089 I.Ephesus 3436 I.Fayoum III 186 I.Lindos 165 I.Pergamon 5 I.Pergamon 48 I.Pergamon 49 I.Pergamon 50 I.Pergamon 135 I.Pergamon 136 I.Pergamon 137 I.Pergamon 138 I.Pergamon 139 I.Pergamon 140 I.Pergamon 252 I.Philae 188 I.Rhamnous 43 I.Rhamnous 140 I.Rhamnous 145 I.Rhamnous 193 I.Rhamnous 194 I.Rhamnous 195 I.Rhod.Per. 471 I.Smyrna 613 I.Smyrna 635 I.Stratonikeia 1004 I.Stratonikeia 1532 I.Tralleis 55 IG I2 10 IG I2 77 IG I2 892

Index of Epigraphic and Papyrological Sources 403 n. 32 403 n. 32 60 n. 13 402 403 397, 403 142, 143 142, 143 142, 142 n. 15 142 142, 143 142 142 142 143 n. 17 397 n. 8 397 n. 8 397 n. 8 397 n. 8 397 n. 8 389 n. 33 138 88 n. 16 142 n. 16 142 n. 16 142 n. 16 142 n. 16 142 n. 16 142 n. 16 142 n. 16 142 n. 16 142 n. 16 128 n. 49–50 423 n. 39 82 n. 47 78 n. 35 78 n. 36 79 79 79, 80, 81 n. 42 115 74 n. 13 397 n. 8, 401 n. 18 73 n. 12 74 n. 14 397 n. 8 37 n. 2 51 76 n. 27

IG I3 6 IG I3 14 IG I3 131 IG I3 366 IG I3 377 IG I3 380 IG I3 436–450 IG I3 462–466 IG I3 474 IG I3 1109 IG I3 1110 IG II2 47 IG II2 1009 IG II2 1224 IG II2 1304 IG II2 1368 IG II2 1657 IG II2 1665 IG II2 1668 IG II2 1669 IG II2 2193 IG II2 2194 IG II2 2196 IG II2 2456 IG II2 2457 IG II2 3678 IG II2 3683 IG II2 3882 IG II2 4117 IG II2 4181 IG II2 4217 IG II2 4240 IG II2 5167 IG II2 5216 IG II3 320 IG II3 429 IG IV2 103 IG V 1 931 IG V 1 1111 IG V 1 1145 IG V 1 1226 IG V 1 1227 IG V 2 11 IG V 2 42 IG V 2 265 IG V 2 266 IG V 2 389 IG V 2 419

47 n. 34 37 n. 2 39 n. 9, 52 44 n. 22 44 43 66 n. 30 66 n. 30 60 n. 13 76 n. 27 76 n. 27 57, 59 n. 9 124 n. 20, 128 n. 46 121 n. 12 111 23 n. 46 72 n. 7 64 n. 24 64 n. 24 64 n. 24, 67 n. 33 399 399, 400 399, 400 128 n. 46 128 n. 46 402 125 n. 24 141 n. 13 141 n. 13 141 n. 13 397, 398, 401, 402, 403 141 n. 13 137 126 n. 30 38 n. 5 66 65, 66 106 n. 24 106 106 n. 24 106 106 109 103–4 107 n. 26 107 n. 26 109 115

475

Index of Epigraphic and Papyrological Sources IG V 2 419–430 IG V 2 420 IG V 2 421 IG V 2 423 IG VII 2510 IG VII 2511 IG VII 3172 IG IX 1 268 IG IX 12 1862 IG IX 12 1903 IG IX 12 1997 IG IX 12 2000 IG IX 12 1:2 IG XI 2 144 IG IX 2 517 IG IX 2 1320 IG XI 4 1154 IG XII 4 172 IG XII 6 1213 IG XII 7 206 IG XII 8 25 IG XII 8 27 IG XII Suppl. 171 IG XIV 712 IG XIV 2485 IGB 210 IGB 341 IGB 481–485 IGB 489–492 IGB 521 IGB 522 IGDGG I 167 IGR IV 293 IGR IV 294 IGUR I 102 IK Iznik 117 IK Iznik 516A ILAfr. 281 ILAfr. 511 ILAfr. 455 ILAlg 1.2145 ILAlg 1.3063 ILAlg 2.1.2000 = AE 1905.108 ILAlg 2.2.4636 = AE 1906.97 = AE 1907.9 ILAlg 2.3.7782

104 106 n. 21 104 109 397, 401 397 107 n. 28 115 26 n. 57 28 n. 70 28 n. 73 28 n. 72 116 125 n. 24 87 n. 10 141 n. 12 126 n. 33 111 18 n. 9, 27 n. 68 27 n. 69 129 n. 56, 130 n. 59 129 n. 54 111 140 141 n. 12 138 140 142 n. 16 42 n. 16 144 144 25 n. 55 126 n. 35 128 n. 49, 129 n. 51 139 312 312 267 266 260–61 263 273 359 377 359

ILAlg 2.3.7936 = AE 1916.34 IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 466 LL IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 1506 IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 1507 IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 1508 IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 1509 IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 1510 IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 1512 IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 1513 IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 1515 IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 1516 IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 1519

359 421, 422 n. 32, 33 422 n. 32, 33 422 n. 32, 33, 34, 423 422 n. 32, 423 n. 34, 41 422 n. 32, 423 n. 34 422 n. 32 422 n. 32, 423 n. 34, 41 422 n. 32, 423 422 n. 32, 424 n. 43 422 n. 32, 423 n. 41 422 n. 32 422 n. 32 422 n. 32 421 248

IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 1520 IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 1523 IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 1538 IMT Kyz. Kapu Dağ 1542 ILS 6087 Inglese 2008 nos. 29–32, 35, 39, 42, 43 18 n. 13 InscrAq. 243 290 InscrAq. 553 = InscrAq. 1124 = AE 2010, 528 290 Inscriptions of Roman Tripolitania 292 = AE 1953.189 = AE 1968 366 InscrIt. X, 1, 103 290 InscrIt. X, 5, 1124 = SupplIt. n.s. 25, 2010: 297–298, no. 109bis = AE 2010, 592 297 318 IRC II, 3 318 IRC II, 6 318 IRC IV, 75 IRCP 407 317 IRT 456–7, 459 269 IRT 542 273 IRT 615 263 121 n. 12 ISE III 133 IvO 402 111 LCGI 92 LI G-1 LI 24

269 269 269

476

Index of Epigraphic and Papyrological Sources

Liverpool World Museum 14.1.90.4 Liverpool World Museum 14.1.90.5 Liverpool World Museum 14.1.90.6 Liverpool World Museum 14.1.90.7 London Metropolitan Archives MS 18567 LSCG Suppl. 64

410, 411 413 415, 416 418, 419

Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 1 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 2 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 3 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 4 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 5 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 6 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 7 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 8 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 9 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 11 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 13 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 17 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 25 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 26 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 32 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 38 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 39 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 40 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 41 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 42 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 47 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 52 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 55 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 58 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 61 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 71 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 79 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 80 Maier, Mauerbauinschriften I 82 Mancini 1914 381 no. 33 Mancini 1914 383 no. 46 Mancini 1914 383 no. 47 Mancini 1914 390 no. 47 Marcadé, Recueil II 28 Marcadé, Recueil II 30 Marcadé, Recueil II 32 Marcadé, Recueil II 34 Marcadé, Recueil II 72 Marcadé, Recueil II 118 Meritt 1946 no. 42 Meritt 1947 no. 67 Meritt 1952 no. 5

72 n. 6 72 n. 6, 8 72 n. 6 72 n. 6 72 n. 6 72 n. 6 72 n. 6 72 n. 6 72 n. 6 72 n. 8 73 n. 10 80 n. 39 82 n. 47 73 n. 10 84 n. 16 84 n. 16 81 n. 40 81 n. 40 75 n. 22 75 n. 22 76 n. 24 71 n. 3 75 n. 19 75 n. 19 80 n. 38 76 n. 29 75 n. 19 75 n. 21 75 n. 20 284 284 284 284 138 139 144 142 n. 15 144 141 n. 12 128 n. 46 128 n. 46 38 n. 5

409 n. 6 40 n. 12

Milet VI 1 I 3 143 Milet VI 1 I 7 268 MMyrina X21

87 n. 13 397 n. 8 122, 123

Not. Sc. 1915, p. 48, nr. 42

341

Panciera 1977: 199 = Panciera 2006: 1848 P. Berol. inv. 7216 Petrocheilos 2010 177–194 P. Hibeh 14 Plassart 1912 no. 8 P. Mich. IX 529, 25–38 P. Oxy. XLIV 3208

283 401 n. 20 81 n. 44 39, 41, 42, 44 n. 23, 46, 47 126 n. 33 401 n. 20 175

Rhodes-Osborne, GHI 93 Roueché 1989 no. 181–186 Roueché 1993 no. 46B

88 n. 15 417 n. 24 417 n. 27

Sahin 2008 66 no. 31 SB 1, 1267 Schmidt 2003: 28, no. 12; Edmondson 2016 SEG X 380 SEG XII 17 SEG XII 87 SEG XVI 556 SEG XVII 759 SEG XVII 820 SEG XXI 80 SEG XXIII 4 SEG XXIII 236 SEG XXIII 237 SEG XXIII 240

74 n. 14 43 n. 18

SEG XXV 448 SEG XXV 454 SEG XXVII 44 SEG XXVII 261 SEG XXVIII 46 SEG XXVIII 103 SEG XXIX 19 SEG XXIX 390 SEG XXIX 1149 SEG XXX 355 SEG XXXII 1158 SEG XXXIV 756 SEG XXXVII 65

291 76 n. 27 45, 51 38 n. 5 28 n. 72 401 n. 20 40 n. 12 43 n. 22 45, 51 104 n. 12 103 n. 5 104 n. 6, 106 n. 21 109 104 n. 12 111 126 n. 32 41, 42, 44, 47 58 n. 6 44 n. 22 25 n. 55, 26 n. 56 87 n. 14 109 397 n. 8 19 n. 14 42 n. 16

477

Index of Epigraphic and Papyrological Sources SEG XXXVIII 752 SEG XXXIX 701 SEG XLI 186 SEG XLI 456 SEG XLII 1096 SEG XLIII 310 SEG XLIII 434 SEG XLIV 863 SEG XLIV 917 SEG XLV 780 SEG XLV 785 SEG XLV 997 SEG XLV 1378 SEG XLVI 446 SEG XLVI 447 SEG XLVI 448 SEG XLVI 1352 SEG XLVII 438 SEG XLVII 439 SEG XLVII 441 SEG XLVII 442 SEG XLVII 443–445 SEG XLVII 933 SEG XLVIII 531 SEG L 276 SEG L 533 SEG LI 510 SEG LI 511B SEG LI 511C SEG LI 511E SEG LI 511 SEG LI 512 SEG LI 991 SEG LII 456 SEG LII 457B SEG LII 457C SEG LII 457D SEG LII 458 SEG LII 459 SEG LIII 1327–1328 SEG LV 705 SEG LV 1052 SEG LV 1172 SEG LV 1181 SEG LV 1188 SEG LV 1189 SEG LV 1191 SEG LV 1199 SEG LV 1241

19 n. 14 19 n. 14 81 n. 42 397 30 n. 84 77 n. 30 17 397 n. 8 74 n. 13 28 n. 70 29 n. 75, 76, 80 19 n. 14 28 n. 72 105 n. 14 105 n. 16 104 n. 10 21 n. 34 105 n. 14 105 n. 16, 18 104 n. 10 105 n. 14 105 n. 14 19 n. 16 105 n. 15 16 n. 5 29 n. 78 105 n. 16 105 n. 17 104 n. 10 105 n. 14 105 n. 15 105 n. 14 25 n. 53 105 n. 14 104 n. 10 105 n. 17 105 n. 15, 16 105 n. 14 105 n. 15 397 n. 8 28 n. 70 21 n. 35, 27 n. 68 18 n. 8 18 n. 8 18 n. 8 18 n. 8 18 n. 8 18 n. 8 18 n. 8

SEG LV 1547–1581 SEG LV 1552 SEG LV 1554 SEG LV 1556 SEG LV 1565 SEG LV 2097 SEG LVI 492bis SEG LVI 545 SEG LVI 546 SEG LVI 547 SEG LVI 894 SEG LVII 981 SEG LVII 1126 SEG LVII 1440 SEG LVII 1768 SEG LVIII 329 SEG LVIII 550 SEG LIX 143 SEG LIX 647 SEG LIX 836 SEG LX 1004 SEG LX 1184 SEG LX 1185 SEG LX 1187–1190 SEG LX 1313 SEG LXI 279bis SEG LXI 625 SEG LXI 953 SEG LXI 954 SEG LXI 955 SEG LXI 956 SEG LXI 957 SEG LXI 958 SEG LXI 959 SEG LXI 972 SEG LXI 974 SEG LXI 1022 SEG LXII 259 SEG LXII 316 SEG LXIII 66 SEG LXIIIc1740 SGDI 4940 Syll.3 532

19 n. 14, 22 n. 39 22 n. 40 22 n. 41 22 n. 42 22 n. 44, 23 n. 45 58 n. 6 104 n. 10 28 n. 70 28 n. 70 28 n. 70 19 n. 14, 18, 20 n. 19 141 n. 12 81 n. 44 404 n. 37 19 n. 14 397 28 n. 70 57, 58 n. 6, 63 n. 19 28 n. 70 19 n. 14, 18, 20 n. 21 27 n. 65 18 n. 8 18 n. 8 18 n. 8 81 n. 44 31 n. 90 19 n. 14, 20 n. 19, 20 20 n. 24 20 n. 25 21 n. 26 21 n. 26 21 n. 26, 27 21 n. 30 20 n. 25 20 n. 22 21 n. 31 414 n. 21 105 n. 15 26 n. 60 26 n. 64 30 n. 82 91 n. 26 107

TAM II 261 TAM III 1 733 TPSulp. 13–15, 19 and 27 27

409 n. 8 27 n. 69 256 256