A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, 2 Volume Set (Blackwell Companions to the Ancient World) [1 ed.] 1118620313, 9781118620311

Table of contents :
Volume 1
About the pagination of this eBook
A COMPANION TO THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE
Contents
Part I Inter-Regional Factors
1 Introduction: The Material Roman
2 The Sea
3 Roads and Waterways
4 Coinage
5 Pottery and Foodways
6 The Military
7 Technology
8 Summation
Part II Regional Factors
9 The City of Rome
10 Italy
11 Sicilia
12 Raetia
13 Dacia
14 Dalmatia
15 Macedonia
16 Epirus
17 Achaea
18 Crete and the Cyclades
19 Thrace
20 Bithynia and Pontus
21 Asia
Volume 2
A COMPANION TO THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE
Contents
22 Galatia and Pisidia
23 Cappadocia
24 Lycia
25 Pamphylia
26 Cilicia
27 Syria
28 Cyprus
29 Judaea
30 Arabia
31 Egypt
32 Cyrenaica
33 Africa/Numidia/Mauretania
34 Lusitania
35 Hispania Citerior and Hispania Baetica
36 Gallia Aquitania and Gallia Lugdunensis
37 Gallia Narbonensis
38 Germania
39 Britannia
Names and Places
Index

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A COMPANION TO THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE

BLACKWELL COMPANIONS TO THE ANCIENT WORLD This series provides sophisticated and authoritative overviews of periods of ancient history, genres of classical literature, and the most important themes in ancient culture. Each volume comprises approximately twenty-five and forty concise essays written by individual scholars within their area of specialization. The essays are written in a clear, provocative, and lively manner, designed for an international audience of scholars, students, and general readers. Ancient History A Companion to the Roman Army

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A COMPANION TO THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE Volume I Edited by

Barbara Burrell

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Contents

Volume 1 Part I Inter-Regional Factors 1 Introduction: The Material Roman Empire Barbara Burrell

1 3

2 The Sea Deborah N. Carlson

14

3 Roads and Waterways R. Bruce Hitchner

37

4 Coinage51 Barbara Burrell 5 Pottery and Foodways Nicholas F. Hudson

69

6 The Military Alexandra W. Busch

91

7 Technology156 Lynne C. Lancaster 8 Summation177 Greg Woolf Part II Regional Factors 9 The City of Rome Stephen Dyson

187 189

10 Italy206 Annalisa Marzano 11 Sicilia232 Roger J.A. Wilson 12 Raetia257 Günther Moosbauer 13 Dacia273 Alexandru Diaconescu

viii

Contents

14 Dalmatia297 Dino Demicheli 15 Macedonia322 Vassilis Evangelidis 16 Epirus346 David R. Hernandez 17 Achaea373 Dimitris Grigoropoulos 18 Crete and the Cyclades Rebecca J. Sweetman

398

19 Thrace419 Ivo Topalilov 20 Bithynia and Pontus Owen Doonan

443

21 Asia468 C. Brian Rose

PART I

INTER-REGIONAL FACTORS

CHAPTER 1

Introduction The Material Roman Empire Barbara Burrell

Questioning “Companion,” “Archaeology” and “Roman Empire” Longer ago than I care to remember, the then-editor of classics and ancient history at WileyBlackwell, Haze Humbert, contacted me to ask whether I’d be interested in editing a volume for their series of Companions to the Ancient World. Most of these had focused on literature or written history, but this was to extend the series into the realm of archaeology, under the proposed title Blackwell’s Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire. I was slightly flabbergasted at the magnitude of the project, but agreed to think about how best it could be done. As you are reading this, you are about to judge my eventual decisions. At the time, I was not enchanted by the trend toward publishing handbooks and companions. Many were collections of essays around purely literary or historical themes by friends or co-theorists of the editors. Almost everyone in the Roman sphere had a chapter on Romanization and its discontents, generally focusing on Britain, and a chapter on memory theory, generally focusing on Achaea or Asia. I thought that this Companion should attempt a broader approach and present a wider range of territory, data, opinions, theories, and illustrations. There seemed to be a need for up-to-date information with which scholars could compare, for example, settlement patterns in imperial Thrace with those in Spain, or distinguish how public spaces were laid out in Syria from those in Africa, and what those spaces were called. In other works, a Hellenized East that contrasted with a Romanized West had often been taken as fact, but I thought that this needed to be examined from region to region. Moreover, in most works where the archaeology of Rome’s provinces was covered at all, Rome and Italy were left out, leaving a false picture of an empire without a center.

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 1, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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Of course, if this was to be a Companion to Archaeology, it had to arise from the tangible remains of past peoples, rather than being a historical summary with a few pictures of well-known public buildings or art objects. The material remains had to be the primary source for and means of analysis, with historical events and documents brought in only to give an outline against which they might be compared. And archaeological analysis requires adequate and informative illustrations to support and explain the text, so I insisted that each chapter had to be allotted at least five illustrations, an unusually high number for this type of publication. To achieve that, we agreed that all contributors would not just submit but get permissions for all their illustrations, which they very kindly and carefully did. The next, and perhaps most difficult, question was, what was the Roman Empire? Was it simply the later development of what had been the Roman Republic, to which a friend and colleague had already written a Companion (Evans 2013)? But that was justifiably centered on Rome and Italy. The Roman Empire, however, stretched across the entire Mediterranean world, and its archaeology could not be represented by focusing on Rome as its center, or by limiting coverage of the periphery to a few of the better-documented provinces. That is why I decided that any approach to the material culture of the Roman Empire must include (almost) all of its regions, not just the usual suspects. So when was this Roman Empire? Its provinces had been acquired over a long range of time, many predating the reign of Augustus, deemed the first emperor. Even if we emulated another Companion (Potter 2006) and took a date range of 44 bce to 337 ce, from the death of Caesar to that of Constantine, material remains are not so closely datable. So I urged the contributors to concentrate their discussions on the first three centuries of the Common Era, plus or minus fifty years. Many of them chose to extend that range before or after, sometimes by centuries, but my policy has been to let the authors decide what was appropriate to their topic and region. After reading a wide range of comparative works and sending letters of inquiry literally around the globe, I sought out respected scholars and excavators – some already eminent, others up and coming – who had excavated and researched in places not usually featured in anglophone publications, as well as those better known. I tried to make territorial coverage as broad as possible, hoping for a compendium that would give a background and a voice to every region of the Roman Empire. Though absolutely complete coverage proved to be unreachable, the result you view now comes very close to those goals.

Imperial Versus Regional Factors Empire-wide Influences Beyond a center and a breadth of terrain that it dominated, any analysis of the material culture of an empire has to consider common institutions that influenced its entire area. Thus, this Companion has taken a two-pronged approach. Its first part is called “inter-regional factors” – that is, institutions peculiar to the Roman Empire that exerted power and had material effects all across the empire’s extent. Among the ones chosen were the military, money, communication by land, river, and sea, and interregional networks that exchanged technologies, innovations, and behaviors as well as commodities (including the most prominent archaeological remains of this or any period, ceramics). These factors were by no means uniform across space or time, nor did they emanate solely from Rome or Italy; for example, chapter 6 on the military shows how some design influences flowed out from the city of Rome, but also from local civilian centers to military posts. Nor were these particular inter-regional influences the only ones in action; they were among many forces used to dominate and manipulate the regions, towns, hinterlands, and frontiers of the empire.



Introduction 5

Much about Mediterranean networks has been winkled out of diverse and wide-ranging evidence by Horden and Purcell (2000), but there is still a lot to explore, even in the time period that encompassed the Roman Empire, by means of material evidence (cf. Knappett 2013). This is exemplified by this Companion’s chapters 2 and 3, on transport via sea, rivers, canals, and roads. Along these routes, by boat and wagon and donkey and foot, and often by multiple short stages, certain objects, people, and concepts circulated fast (for the pre-industrial age) and ruthlessly, as Padilla Peralta (2018) has pointed out. Pax (and Tax) Romana, though undoubtedly exploitative and extractive (FernándezGötz, Maschek, and Roymans 2020), enabled long-distance communication and trade to an extent previously unimaginable, and had a deep effect on all the regions, from those who worked the mines to those who could afford the resulting objects. The stone trade is a good example (Russell 2013): quarrying was often imperially dominated yet locally practiced; its products traveled quickly across the seas, but penetrated more slowly, if at all, into the hinterlands. It allowed civic benefactors as well as rulers to clothe buildings in their cities and centers in exotic stones. This “marble style,” previously taken to represent imperial dominance, seems to have been chosen by locals to express varied concepts, like culture or sophistication, or the visual bilingualism that mixed Greek with Roman (Burrell 2009, 2012). It is notable that when the Roman Empire began to fracture, the stone trade gradually crumbled, too. Most edited volumes would include a summary of each contribution it their introductions. I believe that this Companion’s structure, and the clarity of its chapter titles, are indicative enough to eliminate that necessity. I thought it would be more useful to the reader to ask a noted scholar who has studied the Roman Empire’s archaeology in both breadth and depth to critically evaluate all our contributions, independent of my (presumably self-interested) choices (and my devotion to the well-split infinitive). We were fortunate to have Greg Woolf agree to this task, and the result is suitably set in part I as chapter 8, Summation.

Local Influences While part I of this Companion focuses on institutions and processes that affected the whole empire, part II brings out local patterns and peculiarities, or regional factors. These regions, reflected as chapters in the second section, do not necessarily intersect with the limits of the Roman provinces, where these are even known (Figure 1.1; Jiménez 2016). For example, in chapter 18 Crete is studied with the Cyclades, as they have much in common geographically and archaeologically, rather than with Cyrenaica (chapter 32), with which the Romans happened to pair it as a province. Africa (chapter 33) strides over several provincial lines, and archaeology puts it in closer touch with Spain (chapter 35), across the Straits of Gibraltar, than with Cyrenaica to its immediate east. In any case, provincial lines changed frequently, where the material remains stayed put. Individual regions may or may not have been influenced in various ways by the center, in this case, the city of Rome (chapter 9, here treated not just as a capital city, but a unique region of its own). Material heritage, contacts, and influences may also be traced between or among the disparate regions. Authors writing in part II were given a range of possibilities to explore, rather than a required structure. They could address their material via site patterns and landscape placement, agrarian and urban development, construction techniques, or by any other aspect of the archaeological record that they viewed as illustrative, crucial, or transformative. There could be discussion of individual towns and cities, but also summaries by category of major structures: public buildings (e.g., fora/agorai, basilicas, bouleuteria, sites of games and governance); amenities like baths and gymnasia, gardens, groves, libraries, and fountains; temples,

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Figure 1.1  The provinces of the Roman Empire around the time of Hadrian. By John Wallrodt.

shrines, altars, and heroa; display architecture (arches, porticus, gates, trophies); harbor, mercantile, and industrial buildings; urban domestic buildings, from palaces to apartment blocks; garbage disposal and sewers; fortifications, and (generally) outside city limits, graves, cemeteries, and catacombs; extraurban sanctuaries, aqueducts, bridges, and roads; villages, villas, farmsteads, orchards and fields, centuriation, and other specialized sites. This was already so huge a remit that it could not cover artifacts, despite the current “object turn” in archaeology (which was itself part of a broader and praiseworthy material turn: Boivin 2008; Versluys 2014). What is more, in the early stages of this project, an excellent Companion to Roman Art (Borg 2015) appeared, and a scholar whose work I admired submitted a proposal (not to be realized, unfortunately) for a Companion to the visual and material cultures of the Roman provinces. So this Companion concentrates on sites and what archaeologists call “features” – constructions, including anything from temples to cisterns, whose full excavation would involve ­disassemblage of their structure, and whose place in the landscape – indeed, whose landscape – was an essential part of their nature. This could range from a macro level (road networks, site placement according to rivers and mountains) to a micro one (silos around a farmstead). The choice was practical but also potentially highly informative: features have biographies as objects do, and as the work of Pierre Bourdieu (1977) has shown, the built environment forms people as much as people form it.



Introduction 7

Terminology has generally been left to the chapters’ authors, though technical terms are translated where necessary. Archaeologists have imported and even invented Greek and Latin terms, which should not determine our observations on the materiality of the built remains. Grid plans had existed for centuries before Rome’s rise, and the terms cardo and decumanus appear rarely in Latin literature and epigraphy; yet they are convenient names used and understood by archaeologists for the major north–south and east–west crossing streets in a town. “Forum” in Latin was often used as the equivalent of the Greek term “agora,” and vice versa, and I was able to encourage contributors to examine how developments on either side influenced the other and resounded across the regions of the empire.

Regions and Representation Not every region could be covered, and there will be no prizes for discerning where the gaps are (that between Noricum and Moesia is unmistakable). These were due to authors who promised contributions and then ghosted us when the time came for delivery. Unfortunately, almost all of these were scholars who came from the areas they studied. In a world where majorities too often demand time-consuming representation and explication from minorities, we must recognize that these scholars likely have other goals and roles than being the voices of understudied regions. In addition, many have been under more pressure from their own commitments to local institutions and authorities than were foreign archaeologists who work in those same areas. This was especially true during the Covid-19 shutdown years, which were trying for archaeologists of and in every region, as they were for the world in general. Though my attempt to give place and voice to diverse regions through their own archaeologists was not universally successful, substitute contributions that I could solicit from nonlocal archaeologists give no less valuable an account, in my opinion. The days of imperialist archaeology are (generally) gone, and no scholar I know regrets them. As archaeologists, we operate within national boundaries and respect those nations’ laws and programs. Apart from basic humanitarian issues, our particular concern is not so much the degree of freedom or control under which we explore the remains of the past, but the extent to which war, looting, and destruction is depleting those remains and their contexts every day. On this, archaeologists of all nations may agree: We must speak as clearly and truly as possible for the past people whose remains we interrogate. Indeed, I hope that readers will find that one of the strongest features of this Companion is the multiplicity of viewpoints, approaches, and opinions that it gives voice to. All the authors have worked extensively in their fields or regions; many have spent their entire careers researching their subjects, and that deep familiarity has resulted in a wealth of information in each chapter. Their views have not been homogenized to follow any one theory or approach.

-izations “Glocalization” is an awful word, but it expresses the effect that being part of a Roman Empire may have had on its regions: the overarching demands and punishments, inducements and attractions, from the center, and the entrenched influences of the home culture (itself the product of superimposed traditions over past history) and the culture of immediate neighbors. This is why part II of this Companion starts with Rome and Italy and then fans out centrifugally around the Mediterranean, allowing neighboring regions to be more easily compared. Some of the scholars who wrote these chapters mention Romanization without the scare quotes, and part I, “inter-regional factors,” shows how influence from the center of

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government (which was not simply the city of Rome, but wherever the emperor was) could and did penetrate to the periphery, and in the periphery from upper to lower classes. This is not to take “Romanization” as a given, or even as one thing, as shown by current dialogues around “Romanization 2.0” (Versluys 2014, 2020; Dench 2018, 1–47). Though it was more likely that a person in one province might be called to visit the capital rather than a different, distant province (e.g., a Cappadocian might be more likely to meet a Spaniard in Rome than in Spain), bearers of knowledge and techniques may have met, influenced each other, and traveled on the various and diversifying routes throughout the inhabited world. Each region and locale had its own deep traditions, upon which the new institutions and materials emanating from the center might lie lightly or heavily, be embraced or rejected. Was building with brick and cement, taking hot baths, or serving food on sigillata platters perceived by anyone as ethnic or cultural dominance by Rome? Did a provincial population become “enslaved,” as Tacitus wrote (Agricola 21; Dench 2018, esp. 33), by these material changes and the habitus they engendered? Sitting in a theater with a Western-inspired columnar stage set did not necessarily make the population of a Hellenized town feel any less Greek; it enabled them to see reliefs adorned with their own local myths, along with the spectacles (Di Napoli 2015). Many building practices we may interpret as Romanizing (grid plans, basilicas, aqueducts, thermae, temples on podia, vaults and arches) had good Hellenizing backgrounds, and in their varied contexts may have been taken, not as Roman, but as simply modern (Wallace-Hadrill 2008, 3–37; Miles 2016). This showed particularly clearly in a topic I had thought to address in part I: a chapter on praetoria, which served as both governors’ houses and seats of administration and justice in the provinces of the empire. I had excavated one myself, and written about it and its comparanda (Burrell 1996); since then, more such structures have been archaeologically identified (Schäfer 2014; Havas 2019). But those studies have made it clear that these buildings were not meant to impose a foreign image of empire, like the New Delhi of Baker and Lutyens. Indeed, what makes these impressive, often palatial, structures hard to identify as such is that they were generally built using local methods of construction and design, if on a grand style and scale.

Emic Observations As I worked on my own chapters and read those of others on our meeting site (see below), I came to question some of our current research agendas. My attitude toward archaeological study is that we should strive toward knowledge of the emic point of view, that is, how various members of that culture viewed themselves and their institutions. It is, of course, an impossible goal, but it might attain a more comprehensive knowledge than the etic approach, which often simply describes phenomena without attempting to understand them in context. Of course, we live in a different, more economy-obsessed and Foucauldian, world, and that has often focused our attention toward aspects that are emic to us, not necessarily to the people we study. For example, where we see power, they saw honor (Lendon 1997). The variety of viewpoints and data expressed in this Companion made me question whether the pursuit of our contemporary perspectives (e.g., against imperialism, colonialism, discrimination) was muffling our understanding of ancient people rather than amplifying it. This does not mean that we should not recognize and fight against injustice, but the fight belongs in our own world, not theirs.



Introduction 9

Ethnicity The post-colonial viewpoints that made “Romanization” a questionable term in our age of ethnic nationalism have led many scholars to focus on ethnicity (featuring a people labeled “Romans,” itself a population of diverse origins and identifications, versus indigenous peoples in the West and South of the empire, or Hellenized peoples in the East). Ancient attitudes toward ethnicity, though they had deep resonance in some of the regions discussed in this volume (chapter 29 on Judaea, for example), were often not as determinative in the Roman Empire as in our world. As has been long observed (e.g., Cébeillac-Gervasoni and Lamoine 2003; Perkins 2009; Bennett 2014; Varga and Rusu-Bolindeţ 2016), the elite population of the provinces and Italy – rich families with high status in their regions – frequently emphasized their wealth and descent rather than particular ethnicity, and took the Roman emperor and government not as enemies bringing in foreign practices but as guarantors of their status and position. Invited to climb the ladders of local offices or Roman ones, many did either, and some did both. Those who practiced trades and made money from them may have followed suit as far as they could, though they were less likely to have considered themselves a middle class (pace Mayer 2012).

Women In many regions, the women of those elite families, as bearers of both their nobility and wealth, joined their male relatives in civic benefaction and officeholding to an extent previously unseen in their local cultures, ideologically enabled by the exalted positions reached by the imperial women of Rome (van Bremen 1996; Hemelrijk 2015). In a different social stratum, a woman enslaved by a Roman soldier could have been glad that she was not serving a chieftain of her own tribe, since she had more chance of becoming free, and even Roman (Mattingly 2011, 218). Much still needs to be done, however, to illumine the lives, spaces, and tasks of women (and men) between those highest and lowest strata throughout the Roman Empire.

The Poor and Enslaved Though this Companion’s concentration on material remains allowed us to go beyond the texts and buildings of these elite people and investigate those who were not so well placed, that vital study does not yet pervade all regions. In many chapters, archaeology illuminates ways of life in the common houses and farmsteads that stood near the mansions and villas of the wealthy, though this is not as frequently explored as it should be. We trace some produce and crafts that issued from the hands and tools of the humble and the enslaved and were then passed on the roads of the Roman Empire to ports and destinations that their makers would never see. Nonetheless, we rarely discern or even look for the archaeological remains left by the poor, though especially humble or cell-like rooms in larger complexes are often identified as slave quarters (e.g., Pompeii 2021).

Imperial Cult It is remarkable how sparingly contributors to this Companion have noted the rise of temples to emperors across the empire (dead ones in the city of Rome, live ones in Italy and the provinces; though see Marzano on Italy, Chapter 10; Burrell 2003, 2004). Yet New Testament textual scholars have taken the practice of imperial cult to be among the most significant factors in their recreations of the early days of Christianity, especially in the East, and unidentified temples have often been assumed to be for imperial cult, even if this is not proven.

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Certainly new shrines to emperors were built throughout the empire, and in many cases they fit in with previous architectural and cultural norms, just as the statues of emperors were integrated with those of gods and personifications in local rituals; this makes them rather difficult to securely identify.

On Process Toward Publication From here on, I stray into my own observations about the process and the results of working on this Companion, both as an editor and an author. Many of these will sound familiar to anyone who has ever edited a volume. I have already mentioned finding the best available authors for what started out as over forty chapters, many for very understudied regions, and the difficulties in replacing those who signed up initially but disappeared before sending in their contributions. Also common is the “herding cats” aspect of editing: some authors submit early, others need constant reminders to submit at all. The difficulty of scheduling time to write even short articles is especially dire for archaeologists: most are constrained not only by the teaching calendar but also by their own excavation work during the summer, and preparations for it all year long. Though all the authors were given free rein to choose the best format and coverage for their chapters, I thought that increased communication among them would help produce dialogues on particular subjects, especially in part II, where neighboring regions had similar populations and histories. We did not have the advantage of having gathered for an initial conference, the source of many edited volumes. But with the help of John Wallrodt, we established a group meeting website (using a web-based project management tool known as Basecamp) where we could communicate with all or some of the other collaborators as we chose, post our papers while in progress, ask for critiques ahead of submission, and generally stay in touch with the people and the project as it developed. Some participated enthusiastically and often, others not at all. But some topics (e.g., comparing the archaeological and ideological structures of Roman fora and Greek agorai) did get deeper and wider analysis than they would have otherwise, as already mentioned. An important consideration was readership. This Blackwell’s Companion series is aimed beyond an exclusive audience of Roman archaeologists to include advanced students in this field, as well as scholars in different fields who wish to look for comparisons and broader knowledge. These aims have led mosy contributors to write more generally and to lean toward English resources, though each one of us has used and usually cited important articles in other languages as well. This depended on their areas, as archaeological work in some regions has been little published in English language venues, which provided another reason for this Companion to feature them prominently. Finally, there are conflicts inherent in the way presses and academics operate. For this Companion to go from proposal to publication has taken many years, over which Wiley has had to be very patient. On the other hand, presses operate on their own timeline, outside the academic or archaeological calendar, and requests for material and decisions would sometimes come in during midterms or in the midst of excavations. I used to believe that computerization and widely used software would make production of perfect proofs for publication easy; how naive I was. All our authors sent in good copy on compatible documents and took care with special characters, foreign language rules, and reference formats according to our original Blackwell’s style sheet. I edited all of them, often with several returns for questions and improvements in both content and style, and tried to catch and correct errors and unclear phrasing. At last, I uploaded each finalized chapter with its illustrations on the press’s Sharepoint. The chapters were then copyedited and passed on to production.



Introduction 11

Unfortunately, the process then went to a form of machine editing that was not suitable to such a complex volume, resulting in proofs that introduced a number of errors, especially in foreign languages and references. Although the production team went back to our original documents to restore the references, proofreading took a great deal of time and trouble, and errors may have escaped us at the last minute. Wiley’s Associate Editor for Philosophy and Classics, Will Croft, has kindly agreed that any errors reported via Wiley’s customer services site (cs-books@ wiley.com) will be corrected in the online version and in the next print run of the hardback. But beyond this particular case, it is important to point out that, though ostensibly efficient, any default toward human-free processing is generally counterproductive to careful publication.

Acknowledgments I owe thanks to Haze Humbert, who brought me this project, and to the other editors and editorial assistants at Wiley-Blackwell who helped it on its way. Special thanks go to those most involved in our publication process: Andrew Minton, the editor who finally brought the volume together; Oliver Raj, our most persistent editorial assistant and “chaser”; Britta Ramaraj, a painstaking production specialist; Cheryl Ferguson, an assiduous copyeditor; and Carol Hershenson, the proofreader who helped us all aim for consistency and perfection. John Wallrodt handled all things technical and computer-related, as well as making or formatting most of the illustrations. Dan Osland went beyond his role as a contributor to translate chapter 35 on Hispania Citerior and Hispania Baetica. I had the help of many diligent graduate research assistants over the years, including Sarah Beal, Maura Brennan, Stuart Chessman, Alice Crowe, and Rebecca Kerns. H.N. Parker translated chapter 12 on Raetia, and has been, as always, sine quo non. Thanks to a University of Cincinnati Research Council Faculty Research Program Grant and to generous Louise Taft Semple Fund summer grants from the Department of Classics, I was able to put this volume together. Semple grants also funded the indexing, proofreading, and some of the illustrations. But my deepest thanks go to all the contributors, who worked so hard over so many years to make this volume the best it could be.

Biographical Note Barbara Burrell teaches Roman archaeology at the University of Cincinnati and has dug at Roman sites across the Mediterranean, including Spain, Italy, Greece, Turkey, and Israel. She is currently writing and editing for the two-volume final report of the excavation she codirects, the Promontory Palace at Caesarea Maritima in Israel, and publishing the coins found at Mount Lykaion in Arcadia, Greece. Beyond fieldwork, her interests include reception and interpretation of the ancient city in the Roman Empire, and Roman provincial coins, architecture, and art.

REFERENCES Bennett, Robert. 2014. Local Elites and Local Coinage: Elite Self-Representation on the Provincial Coinage of Asia, 31 BC to AD 275. London: Royal Numismatic Society. Boivin, Nicole. 2008. Material Culture, Material Minds. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Borg, Barbara E., ed. 2015. A Companion to Roman Art. Chichester, West Sussex: John Wiley & Sons.

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Bourdieu, Pierre. 1977. Outline of a Theory of Practice. Translated by Richard Nice. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Burrell, Barbara. 1996. “Palace to Praetorium: The Romanization of Caesarea.” In Caesarea Maritima: A Retrospective after Two Millennia, edited by Avner Raban and Kenneth G. Holum, 228–247. Leiden: Brill. Burrell, Barbara. 2003. “Strangers in their Own Land: Greeks and the Roman God-Emperor.” Syllecta Classica, 14: 187–204. Burrell, Barbara. 2004. Neokoroi: Greek Cities and Roman Emperors. Leiden: Brill. Burrell, Barbara. 2009. “Reading, hearing, and looking at Ephesos.” In Ancient Literacies: The Culture of Reading in Greece and Rome, edited by William A. Johnson and Holt N. Parker, 69–95. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Burrell, Barbara. 2012. “Phrygian for Phrygians: Semiotics of ‘exotic’ local marble.” In Interdisciplinary Studies on Ancient Stone. Proceedings of the IX Association for the Study of Marble and Other Stones in Antiquity (ASMOSIA) Conference (Tarragona 2009), edited by Anna Gutiérrez Garcia-Moreno, Pilar  Lapuente Mercadal, and Isabel Rodà de Llanza. 780–786. Tarragona: Institut Català d’Arqueologia Clàssica. Cébeillac-Gervasoni, Mireille, and Laurent Lamoine. 2003. Les élites et leurs facettes: les élites locales dans le monde hellénistique et romain. Rome: École française de Rome. Dench, Emma. 2018. Empire and Political Cultures in the Roman World. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Di Napoli, Valentina. 2015. “Figured reliefs from the theatres of Roman Asia Minor.” Logeion, 5: 260–293. Evans, Jane DeRose, ed. 2013. A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Republic. Chichester, West Sussex: Wiley-Blackwell. Fernández-Götz, Manuel, Dominik Maschek, and Nico Roymans. 2020. “Power, Asymmetries and How to View the Roman World.” Antiquity, 94, no. 378: 1653–1656. Havas, Zoltán, ed. 2019. Authenticity and Experience: Governor’s Palaces of Roman Imperial Period and the Limes. Proceedings of the International Conference, Budapest, 5–6 November 2018. Budapest: Budapest History Museum. Hemelrijk, Emily A. 2015. Hidden Lives, Public Personae: Women and Civic Life in the Roman West. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Horden, Peregrine, and Nicholas Purcell. 2000. The Corrupting Sea: A Study of Mediterranean History. Oxford: Blackwell. Jiménez, A. 2016. “What is a province?” In Beyond Boundaries: Connecting Visual Cultures in the Roman provinces, edited by Susan E. Alcock, Mariana Egri, and James F. D. Frakes, 16–30. Los Angeles: Getty. Knappett, Carl, ed. 2013. Network Analysis in Archaeology: New Approaches to Regional Interaction. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Lendon, Jon E. 1997. Empire of Honour: The Art of Government in the Roman World. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Mattingly, David J. 2011. Imperialism, Power, and Identity: Experiencing the Roman Empire. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Mayer, Emanuel. 2012. The Ancient Middle Classes: Urban Life and Aesthetics in the Roman Empire, 100 BCE–250 CE. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Miles, Margaret M., ed. 2016. A Companion to Greek Architecture. Chichester, West Sussex: Wiley Blackwell. Padilla Peralta, Dan-el. 2018. “Circulation’s Thousand Connectivities.” In Rome, Empire of Plunder: The Dynamics of Cultural Appropriation, edited by Matthew P. Loar, Carolyn MacDonald, and Dan-el Padilla Peralta, 261–270. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Perkins, Judith. 2009. Roman Imperial Identities in the Early Christian Era. New York: Routledge. Pompeii. 2021. La stanza degli schiavi – l’ultima scoperta di Civita Giuliana. At Posted 6 November, Accessed July 30 2022. http://pompeiisites.org/comunicati/la-stanza-degli-schiavi-lultimascoperta-di-civita-giuliana



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Potter, David S., ed. 2006. A Companion to the Roman Empire. Malden, MA: Blackwell. Russell, Ben. 2013. The Economics of the Roman Stone Trade. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Schäfer, Felix F. 2014. Praetoria: Paläste zum Wohnen und Verwalten in Köln und anderen römischen Provinzhauptstädten. Cologne: Rœmisch-Germanisches Museum. van Bremen, Riet. 1996. The Limits of Participation: Women and Civic Life in the Greek East in the Hellenistic and Roman Periods. Amsterdam: J.C. Gieben. Varga, Rada, and Viorica Rusu-Bolindeţ, eds. 2016. Official Power and Local Elites in the Roman Provinces. London: Routledge. Versluys, Miguel John. 2014. “Understanding Objects in Motion. An Archaeological Dialogue on Romanization.” with responses by R. Hingley, T. Hodos, T. D. Stek, P. van Dommelen, G. Woolf, and the author, Archaeological Dialogues, 21: 1–64. Versluys, Miguel John. 2020. “Nothing else to think?” Antiquity, 94, no. 378: 1646–1648. Wallace-Hadrill, Andrew. 2008. Rome’s Cultural Revolution. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

CHAPTER 2

The Sea Deborah N. Carlson

Introduction For this reason they inflict masses of concrete on the seashore, and create bays in the deep sea by heaping up piles of earth; others let the sea in by digging ditches. They do not know how to enjoy anything real, but instead their sick minds are delighted by the artificial: a fake sea or land in an unnatural place. (Seneca the Elder, Controversiae 2.1.13)

The nature of the Romans’ relationship with the sea can be summarized in one word: adversarial. The literary evidence makes plain that most Romans preferred and admired a terrestrial, agricultural life – consequently they disliked the sea and distrusted those who made a living on it. For Cicero, the downfall of Corinth and Carthage stemmed from the decision to abandon agriculture in favor of maritime commerce (Vishnia 1988). Of course, the literary evidence primarily reflects the attitudes of the senatorial class, who regarded merchants as lying thieves, and their workplace a source of corruption polluted by the immoral ideas of foreigners (Horden and Purcell 2000). Funerary inscriptions, not surprisingly, paint a different picture by revealing that Roman merchants prided themselves on honesty and integrity (Knapp 2011, 8–10). History suggests that the Romans took to the sea only out of necessity. During the Punic Wars, the first sizable Roman fleet was realized by replicating a captured Carthaginian warship. The vessel that eventually became the backbone of the imperial provincial fleets was borrowed from Illyrian pirates. The Roman navy was regarded as a less prestigious branch of the military, comparable to the auxilia staffed by noncitizens and commanded by equestrians. Discharge diplomas and funerary inscriptions show that Roman sailors were referred to as milites, and served twenty-six years, or one year longer than their terrestrial counterparts in the auxilia. The technical, naval terminology of the Romans contains very few words of Latin derivation; the vast majority were borrowed or adapted from Greek.

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 1, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



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Figure 2.1  Map of sites mentioned in the text. By John Wallrodt.

Of course, Roman ingenuity gave rise to transformative innovations like maritime concrete, and one important physical expression of the Romans’ adversarial relationship with the sea survives in the remains of elaborate maritime villas, fisheries, and ports that dot the Italian coast. The coastline became a kind of frontier where emperors and senators showcased their dominance over the sea by constructing huge architectural complexes that challenged or changed the landscape (Lafon 2001; Marzano 2007, 13–46). That some philosophers thought this phenomenon deviant is reflected in the words of first-century moralist Papirius Fabianus quoted above. Archaeology has demonstrated that many maritime activities practiced by the Greeks – from processing fish to transporting marble – were amplified exponentially by the Romans. The excavation of shipwrecks is an increasingly important way to gauge the scope and diversity of maritime trade, but at the same time archaeologists are hard pressed to provide material proof of piracy or perishable commodities like grain and wild animals. Given the enormity of the subject at hand, this chapter is of necessity limited to six themes that illuminate the Romans’ relationship with the sea: warfare, ship construction, commerce, fishing, ports, and exploration (Figure 2.1).

Mare Nostrum: Securing the Sea It was on this occasion that the Carthaginians sailed out to attack them as they were crossing the straits, and one of their decked ships, in their eagerness to overtake the transports, ventured too near the shore, ran aground, and fell into the hands of the Romans. It was this ship which they proceeded to use as a model, and they built their whole fleet according to its specifications, (Polybius 1.20)

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The Romans never truly embraced the Mediterranean convention of naval battle; for them, warships served largely as platforms from which marines boarded an enemy vessel, or as transports to deliver legions in support of a land campaign. Where Hellenistic Greeks had relied primarily on long-distance machinery for carrying out long-term sieges, Republican Romans invented the corvus or raven, a kind of spiked gangplank, which, when dropped onto an enemy ship in close proximity, turned a battle between warships into a land battle at sea (Polybius 1.22; Wallinga 1956). In 36 bce, Marcus Agrippa helped Octavian achieve a stunning naval victory over Sextus Pompey in Sicily by deploying an improved version of the corvus called the harpax, which was launched from a catapult. The harpax was a wooden beam fitted with a grappling hook at one end and ropes at the other for retrieving the device once launched and presumably lodged into an enemy ship (Appian, Civil Wars 5.118–121). Just five years later, Agrippa and Octavian achieved a decisive victory over Antony at Actium in western Greece; ancient sources attribute their success to the light and nimble two-decked liburnae galleys, which outmaneuvered the larger, heavier polyremes in Antony’s fleet (Murray and Petsas 1989, 144). But Murray cautions that the light- versus heavy-fleet dichotomy apparent in the ancient sources is very probably a simplistic, propagandistic distortion of the events; he rightly characterizes Roman fleet construction as reactionary, in that the Romans tended to copy enemy vessels and build naval forces that were sufficient for the task at hand (Murray 2012, 235–244). Polyremes, which include fours (quadriremes) and fives (quinquiremes), were a Hellenistic outgrowth of the Classical trireme and are generally defined as any warship propelled by oars at two or three levels with multiple rowers pulling each oar. Although the Romans did not follow the Hellenistic model of building monstrously large warships as floating platforms for besieging coastal cities, polyremes did not fall out of use entirely in the Roman era. Augustan reform brought two standing imperial fleets to the Italian peninsula: one at Misenum (classis Misenatium) on the Tyrrhenian coast and the other at Ravenna (classis Ravennatium) at the head of the Adriatic. The closest we come to a fleet inventory are the names and classes of eighty-eight ships in the Misenum fleet, which include 1 six (the flagship Ops), 1 five, 10 fours, 52 triremes, and 15 liburnians. The distribution of the thirty-five named ships known to have been in the Ravenna fleet is proportionally comparable, but about half the total size, with 2 fives, 6 fours, 23 triremes, and 4 liburnians (Rankov 1995, 79). Ancient sources suggest that the two-banked liburnian was the backbone of the provincial fleets stationed at Boulogne (classis Britannica), Alexandria (classis Alexandrina), Trapezus (classis Pontica), on the Rhine (classis Germanica), and on the Danube (classis Pannonica and classis Moesiaca) (Rankov 1995, 80–83). The open, undecked galleys depicted on Trajan’s Column, which are rowed by fourteen to eighteen men arranged on two levels, with each man pulling his own oar, are almost certainly liburnians engaged in the transport of troops (Morrison and Coates 1996, 248–253). The success of the liburnian as a Roman transport presumably had much to do with speed, for the vessel type originated among Illyrian pirates of the Adriatic (Höckmann 1997), and it should not surprise us that many Dalmatian names appear among the rosters of the Ravenna fleet (see Dimicheli, “Dalmatia,” chapter 14 of this volume). While no Roman seagoing warship has been preserved in the archaeological record, we can point to the evidence of various single-banked oared galleys, which functioned as military patrol boats on inland rivers. In the 1980s the remains of seven such ships came to light in Germany – two from an ancient tributary of the Danube near the Roman fort of Oberstimm and five more at Mainz (ancient Mogontiacum), the Roman capital of Germania Superior on the Rhine. Dendrochronology dates the Oberstimm vessels to the late first to early second century and the Mainz vessels to the late third to early fourth century ce. All of the vessels



The Sea 17

had been stripped of various components and/or partially dismantled before they were abandoned. The two Oberstimm boats were lightly built in the Mediterranean tradition with pine hull planks joined together by means of pegged mortise-and-tenon joinery and oak frames installed in a pattern typical of Mediterranean merchant ships. Unusual is the use of luting, or caulking inserted between the plank seams before assembly (as opposed to driven caulking), in this case, lime tree fibers soaked in resin. These were low, narrow, undecked, fast boats, 15–16 m long and 2.7 m in beam with a height amidships of just over 1 m, which could be propelled by a single square sail or rowed by crews of eighteen to twenty men (Bockius 2002). The five ships from Mainz belong to two types, with four examples of a patrol boat identified by excavators as the navis lusoria and a single example of a beamier vessel that may have been designed for ferrying officials. The Mainz vessels appear to belong to the RomanoCeltic tradition of ship construction in which oak planks were fastened to frames with iron nails. The Mainz galleys were originally about 21 m long and 2.7 m in beam, and could have been propelled by sail or by thirty oarsmen arranged in a single bank; the ships’ flat bottoms and keel planks clearly suggest that they were designed for inland waters (Hockmann 1993; Bockius 2006). More recent excavations at the silted ancient harbor of Pisa-San Rossore revealed a wellpreserved oared ship still tied off to a mooring (Camilli 2004). The vessel, which is 13.3 m long, 2.68 m wide, and 1.58 m tall, is of early Julio-Claudian date and was equipped with a mast for sailing and twelve oarports for rowing. Two rowers sat on each of five benches, with a single rower at bow and stern. The oarports still possess the wooden thole pins against which the oars were worked and the remnants of exterior leather sleeves (askomata) designed to minimize the entry of seawater. The small forefoot of the ship’s cutwater bow was sheathed in iron, reminiscent of a warship’s ram (Bonino 2010). The vessel was painted white on the exterior and red on the interior using an encaustic mixture of wax and resin; it has been suggested that the Greek word ΑΛΧΔO, which was found inscribed inside near the second rower’s bench, may be a transliteration of the Latin Alcedo, meaning kingfisher, and the ship’s name (Camilli 2004, 66; Bonino 2010, 114). What distinguishes the naval vessels unearthed at Oberstimm and Mainz from proper ­seagoing warships is the absence of a ram. Rams from captured enemy ships made compelling trophies and as such were a conspicuous feature of Roman monuments, including the speaker’s platform named for them (Rostra) in the Roman Forum, the Actian campsite memorial, numerous triumphal arches, and columns (Pliny the Elder, Natural History 34.11; Quintilian 1.7.12). Rams found in or believed to have come from the sea constitute an important corpus of direct evidence for warships, and yet many of these finds lack archaeological or historical context (Murray 2012, 49–52). A notable exception are the eight bronze rams recently recovered from the sea north of Levanzo, the smallest of the three Egadi Islands west of Sicily (Figure 2.2; Tusa and Royal 2012). Latin inscriptions on seven of the rams (and a Punic inscription on the eighth) provide compelling affirmation that this was the site of the last naval battle of the First Punic War in 241 BC but also contribute in exciting ways to our understanding of Roman political office during the Republic and the duties and identities of those magistrates responsible for fleet construction during wartime (Prag 2014). The archaeological record of Roman navies is riddled with gaps, large and small. Scholars of Greek maritime history, for example, have long referred to the evidence of rock-cut slipways and shipsheds in reconstructing the dimensions of Greek warships; Roman scholars regrettably have no comparable data to work with (Rankov 2013). Funeral inscriptions and military diplomas indicate that sailors were essentially soldiers at sea (milites classiarii), but in this regard they were analogous to the auxiliary infantry (auxilia) in that the vast majority were noncitizens. That sailors dressed as soldiers is suggested by a funerary stele uncovered at Ravenna in 2005, which depicts Monatus(?) Capito, the officer

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Figure 2.2  A: Egadi Ram 6, courtesy of RPM Nautical. B: llustration of the Athlit ram fitted onto the prow of a warship, courtesy of J. Richard Steffy and William Murray.

(optio) of a liburnian named Aurata. In and around Rome, when the fleets were not ferrying troops, escorting dignitaries, or safeguarding commercial shipping, they might be engaged in the production of naumachiae or artificial sea battles (Tacitus, Annals 12.56; Suetonius, Claudius 21.6) or operating the sun shade of the Colosseum (Historia Augusta, Commodus 15.6). In Britain especially (but not exclusively), archaeological excavation has produced not only inscriptions but also thousands of bricks and tiles stamped CLBR for CL(assis) BR(itannica); the fleets did not just manufacture their own tiles but engaged in the exploitation of iron and stone, and the construction of defense walls and granaries (Mason 2003; Rankov 2005).

Mare Navigabile: Ship Construction What a size that ship was! 120 cubits long, the man said, and something over a quarter of that in width; and from deck to keel, the maximum depth, through the hold, 29 cubits. And then the height of the mast, with its huge yard; and what a forestay it takes to hold it! And the lofty stern with its gradual curve, and its gilded beak, balanced at the other end by the long rising sweep of the prow, and the figures of her name-goddess, Isis, on either side. (Lucian, The Ship 5) In many instances, the study of ancient Rome necessitates the delicate interplay of material culture and the textual record. In relatively few cases does one body of evidence completely outshine the other; one of these cases is ship construction. We can point to numerous descriptions and depictions of Roman ships at sea, accounts of enemy vessels and their performance, even tales of shipwreck told by survivors, but in the end virtually everything we know about how the Romans built ships comes from the archaeological excavation of individual shipwrecks, each documenting a specific voyage that ended under discrete circumstances. The totality and diversity of this archaeological corpus is staggering, particularly in light of the fact that the discipline of nautical archaeology is little more than a half-century old. Archaeologists and naval historians of the 1930s were among the first to examine and study the details of ancient Roman ship construction, when Benito Mussolini ordered the draining of Lake Nemi, revealing the well-preserved remains of two enormous barges, each over 70 m long, built



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by the emperor Caligula (37–41 ce) (Carlson 2017). Above the waterline, these massive imperial houseboats featured running water, mosaic pavements, and marble and bronze sculpture, meaning they had little in common with the merchant vessels that plied the Mediterranean. Below the waterline, however, the construction of the Nemi hulls was more typical of the ships of burden (naves onerariae) that drove the Roman maritime economy. Although the Nemi vessels were completely destroyed in a fire at the close of World War II, their recovery and documentation provided the world with precious evidence for how the Romans built ships. The excavation, study, and publication of numerous Roman boats and ships in the intervening decades has shown that the building of the Nemi vessels followed a well-established process referred to today as shell-first or shell-based construction (Steffy 1994). To begin, a shell was formed by attaching pine hull planks to the keel, and then to one another, using pegged mortise and-tenon edge joinery. Planks were connected end to end to form strakes (runs of planking) by means of diagonal scarf joints, which were nailed at the tips. Oak frames (including floor timbers, futtocks, and half-frames) were then installed on the interior and fastened to planking by means of copper nails driven through oak treenails (thick wooden dowels) and double-clenched (bent twice) over the internal face of each frame. The exterior of the hull was smeared with pitch, followed by a layer of woolen textile, and finally a 1-mm-thick skin of lead sheathing was affixed with nails driven in a quincunx pattern. In the only ancient depiction we have of a ship under construction, from a grave stele found in Ravenna in 1588, shipwright (faber navalis) Publius Longidienus prepares a frame to be installed inside the ship’s assembled shell of hull planking. While the vast majority of ordinary Romans probably never saw the Nemi ships, the ubiquity of shell-based construction meant that even these specialized imperial houseboats had much in common with the large merchant ships that transported countless commodities around the Mediterranean. The largest of these merchantmen were seagoing grain carriers, but no trace of them has survived in the archaeological record. Nonetheless, we can imagine that their arrival was an impressive spectacle (Seneca the Younger, Moral Letters to Lucilius 77.1–2), even if it may be ambitious to trust the specific figures in the picture painted by Lucian of the grain ship Isis arriving in Piraeus harbor from Alexandria (above; Houston 1987). Among the largest, best preserved, and most carefully studied examples of a Roman seagoing merchantman is the 400-ton cargo ship excavated at Madrague de Giens, France (Pomey 2015). The surviving hull was 35 m long, 8 m in beam, and 3 m deep; excavators calculate that the original vessel was 40 m long, 9 m in beam, and 4.5 m deep, capable of transporting 8,000 amphoras when it sank in the second quarter of the first century bce. The Madrague de Giens hull, which epitomizes the shell-based shipbuilding tradition, was constructed mostly of elm (keel, stem, planking, frames) and oak (floor timbers, keelson, maststep) and protected with a second layer of fir hull planking and a final layer of lead sheathing. The partial remains of a cutwater bow suggest a resemblance to the vessel depicted on a mosaic from a frigidarium at Themetra, Tunisia, prompting researchers to identify the Madrague de Giens ship as a Roman ponto. The reason that nautical archaeologists rely so heavily on the evidence of seagoing merchantmen is that the weight of the associated cargo is largely responsible for pushing a ship’s wooden hull into the seabed, thereby preserving it. For this simple reason, those parts of the hull closer to the keel tend to be better preserved, whereas parts of the superstructure such as the deck, mast, and rigging almost never survive because they remained exposed and vulnerable to consumption by marine organisms. A rare exception is the 15 m-long L’Anse des Laurons 2 shipwreck, which was excavated from a shallow channel near Marseilles, France, in the early 1980s and dates to the late second century ce (Gassend, Liou, and Ximénès 1984). Here, the survival of four deck planks demonstrated that they had been assembled using unpegged mortise-and-tenon joinery and skillfully oriented in a series of arcs contrary to the

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curvature of the ship’s hull planking. Other remarkable construction features include portions of the ship’s bulwark, scuppers, and the coaming of a central hatch, which together were designed to keep water off the deck and out of the cargo hold. The discovery, in 2000, off the coast of Sinop, Turkey, of a fifth-century ship (Sinop D) with mast intact at a depth of 325 m suggests that more direct evidence for the superstructure and rigging of Roman ships is likely preserved in the anaerobic environment of the Black Sea. Despite the fair degree of adherence to the shell-based tradition of pegged mortise-andtenon joinery throughout the Mediterranean during the Roman period, there is also archaeological evidence for local vernacular traditions of boatbuilding in certain parts of the empire. From the upper Adriatic Sea, for example, comes evidence for sewn (or laced) boatbuilding traditions, in which hull planks were joined together with cordage instead of mortise-andtenon joints (Bonino 1985; Beltrame 2000). The ship excavated at Comacchio, Italy, in the 1980s represents the most complete surviving example of a northwestern Adriatic laced hull (Berti 1990). The original vessel is estimated to have been about 21 m long and was equipped with a thickened keel plank in place of a true keel. The vessel’s fairly flat bottom made it maneuverable in shallow local waters but also capable of coastal sailing. Elm hull planks were joined together with esparto grass cordage, which ran through diagonal holes along the plank edges and then passed over a wad of bast fibers wrapped in wool and placed along the inner seams. Inside the shell, oak floor timbers were lashed to hull planking with esparto grass plaits, while futtocks were attached with wooden treenails. From northwestern Europe comes an impressive corpus of evidence for vessels constructed in the so-called Romano-Celtic tradition, which is characterized by flat bottoms with no keel or simple keel planks, a preference for heavy oak timbers, and hull planks that are not edge-joined but still laid flush (carvel), sometimes caulked at the seams, and fastened to frames with large nails, often of iron (McGrail 1995). One of the best preserved ships with these features is the 14 m-long merchant vessel uncovered on the banks of the River Thames at Blackfriars in London in the early 1960s (Marsden 1994: 33–95). Although it sank in a river in the mid-second century ce while transporting 26 tons of building stone from Kent, the Blackfriars I vessel was a seagoing ship, as indicated by hull damage from marine wood-boring mollusks, or shipworms. And while the hull construction of Blackfriars I bears little if any resemblance to Mediterranean seagoing ships of the imperial period, a worn bronze coin of the emperor Domitian (81–96 ce) was found inside the socket of the ship’s mast-step (which held the foot of the mast), in keeping with a distinctly Roman custom (Carlson 2007). Other ancient boats assigned to the Romano-Celtic tradition have been found in England, France, Belgium, Germany, Switzerland, and the Netherlands; most are associated with inland waterways such as rivers and lakes. Those that have been argued to exhibit Roman influence in terms of their size or dimensions or construction are routinely but not exclusively associated with Roman military forts (DeWeerd 1978; Marsden 1994). The relationship between “native” and “Roman” is rarely linear and the examination of a single ship requires unpacking complex layers of technology, tradition, material availability, and individual ­decision-making. It is, however, the study of minute construction details that enables the identification of distinct craft communities and informs the philosophy of shipbuilding (Hocker and Ward 2004). Beginning in the fourth century ce, archaeological evidence shows that Roman shipbuilders were relying less on mortise-and-tenon joints and more on the framing components to provide the structural strength of a ship’s hull. This shift away from longitudinal “shell-first” construction and toward transverse “frame-first” construction played out across the Mediterranean over the course of several centuries; it was influenced, to be sure, by a complex cocktail of economic, sociocultural, environmental, and political factors, and may have had



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multiple geographical lineages (Pomey, Kahanov, and Rieth 2012). The end result was that the shell-based, mortise-and-tenon construction technique of Roman shipbuilding, which had been so dependent on both lumber and labor for five centuries, disappeared with the Roman Empire.

Mare Mercatorium: Commerce by Sea I built five ships, got a cargo of wine, worth its weight in gold at the time, and sent them to Rome. You would think I had asked for it; every ship was wrecked, truth and no fiction. Neptune gulped down 30 million sesterces in one day… I built more ships, bigger, better and luckier, so that no one could say I was not a brave man. You know, a big ship has big grit. I got another cargo of wine, bacon, beans, perfume, and slaves…What the gods want happens quickly. I made ten million on one voyage. (Petronius, Satyricon 76)

In the late 1870s, German scholar Heinrich Dressel embarked on a daunting journey to catalog, for the Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum, the stamps on thousands of fragmentary ceramic objects in and around Rome, including bricks, tiles, dolia, and transport amphoras. Dressel’s task took him, predictably, to Monte Testaccio in Rome, where he observed that many of the amphora sherds that made up this artificial hill featured painted inscriptions (tituli picti) mentioning weight, content, origin, and even names. Through translation of these inscriptions, Dressel recognized that certain amphora types were connected to specific contents from specific places, and the first Roman amphora typology was born. While the story is an excellent illustration of the often intimate relationship between text and artifact, Dressel’s achievement offered the opportunity to contemplate the role of maritime trade within the Roman economy. Amphoras are economic artifacts, linked to agrarian production as containers and to maritime trade as instruments of transport – they embody the connections between land and sea. As packaging containers, amphoras are most often associated with the trinity of Mediterranean products: wine and grape syrup (defrutum), olives and olive oil, and salted fish and fish sauces. Archaeology and tituli picti have shown that amphoras were also utilized to transport honey, nuts (hazelnuts, chestnuts, pistachios), fruit (cherries, apples, figs, dates), and non-comestible products (tar, alum, volcanic ash). Of course, the use-life of a typical amphora did not end with a single voyage, and if one factors in the archaeological and papyrological evidence for reuse and repurposing, the list of contents and contexts grows almost exponentially (Peña 2007, 61–192). The study of Roman amphoras is quite different from that of earlier Greek amphoras, owing in part to the fact that morphologically similar types were often produced by a range of workshops spread across regions that today might be comprised of several countries. For this reason, identification is routinely made on the basis of group or class, and a given amphora class may include multiple types that are only distinguishable on the basis of clay fabrics (Peacock and Williams 1986). Another unique feature of Roman amphoras is the amount of epigraphic data that can be gleaned from different locations on a single jar. The stamps that are often (but not always) found on the neck or handles were applied before the jar was fired and are therefore tied to its production; the names or letters or monograms in these stamps likely refer to individual potters, workshop owners, or owners of the estate where the jars were made and filled. Less frequently, the stoppers that were sealed inside the amphora necks survive; these might be either stamped clay discs or plain discs of cork, wood, or ceramic sealed in place by a thin layer of plaster that was stamped. These stamped stoppers or sealings, then, are tied to the filling or shipping of the jar, and the people mentioned in them are either merchants or agents (Denecker and Vandorpe 2007). Finally, there are the administrative tituli

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picti that (can) provide the names of ship owners and export officials. A recent effort to compile the names of all those individuals involved in Roman maritime trade, relying in part on the evidence of tituli picti, generated a catalog with over a thousand entries (Broekaert 2013). Amphoras were not, however, the only method of containerization. From the western Mediterranean comes intriguing archaeological evidence, in the form of multiple first-century CE shipwrecks, for a distinct class of ship outfitted with large ceramic vats, or dolia, for bulk transport (Heslin 2011). In true Roman fashion, stamps on the dolia make it possible to connect their production, and perhaps construction of the ships as well, to the Piranus family of Minturnae. The storage of wine in wooden casks was common among the Gauls (Pliny, Natural History 14.27), and the riverine transport of barrels is depicted on various sculpted reliefs (Campbell 2012). Excavation of a ship that sank east of Venice at Grado in the first half of the second century produced nine staves of a wooden barrel once filled with broken glass (Auriemma 2000). As a commodity, glass is not a common find in Mediterranean maritime archaeology. In this regard, the cargo of the Ouest-Embiez I shipwreck in France deserves mention. Excavated between 2001 and 2004 at a depth of 56 m (184 ft.), the ship was transporting an estimated 18 tons of colorless raw and finished glass when it sank in the first third of the third century ce. The largest of the 65 blocks of cullet weighed 25 kg (55 lbs.), while the finished pieces are represented by an assemblage of some 1800 cups, goblets, jugs, bottles, and even flat and hemispherical window glass (Fontaine and Foy 2007). The date of the Ouest-Embiez I shipwreck coincides rather curiously with a peak in the frequency of shipwrecked stone carriers. This peak may well be connected to increased demand for imported colored stones (marble, porphyry, and granite) and a corresponding rise in the production of white marble sarcophagi (Russell 2013). Stone cargoes are a challenging dataset, however, owing to the fact that very few wrecks have been comprehensively excavated, so their dating can be rather imprecise. It is tempting to surmise, but ultimately impossible to prove, that the largest stone cargoes (on the order of 300–400 tons), many of which were wrecked off the coasts of South Italy and Sicily, were destined for imperial projects in Rome. Transport amphoras and merchant ships enjoyed a symbiotic relationship. Today in the Mediterranean, the amphora mound has become the signpost of an ancient shipwreck, and in most cases it is the weight of the amphora cargo that preserves the wooden hull beneath, which if excavated can illuminate our understanding of ship construction technology. Archaeological investigation of shipwrecked amphora carriers allows us to state with relative confidence that (a) the majority of Roman merchantmen did not exceed 75 tons burden (Houston 1988), (b) Roman sailors did traverse the open sea, as demonstrated by discoveries in deep water (McCann and Oleson 2004), and (c) amphora cargoes are especially reliable indicators of commercial networks, economic diversity, and even market specialization (Rice 2016). In the end, it is beyond the scope of this brief synopsis to examine how maritime trade informs us about the Roman economy (Wilson 2009), but a pivotal point of discussion concerns the extent to which maritime commerce was shaped by individuals (D’Arms 1981), cities (Arnaud 2016), or the imperial state (Scheidel 2011). A favorite statistic of historians is the 1189 Mediterranean shipwrecks catalogued by Parker (1992). This figure continues to grow under the stewardship of the Oxford Roman Economy Project (Strauss 2013), but an important and unchanging reality is that we cannot ask the same probing questions of survey data that we can of excavation data.

Mare Munificum: The Bountiful Sea In spirit the fisherman should be cunning and wise, since the fishes contrive many varied tricks when they encounter unanticipated nets. Most of all he should be persistent, fearless, and temperate; he must not be fond of sleep but have keen eyesight and a restless heart. (Oppian, Halieutica 3.41–46)



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The five books of Oppian’s didactic poem on fishing, the Halieutica, provide a wealth of information on the behaviors of different fish, specific, detailed descriptions of various fishing techniques, and an assessment of those qualities that distinguish a capable fisherman. It is curious that Oppian praises the fisherman’s wit and cunning, since these same characteristics, in the eyes of many Romans, are what made fishermen, and maritime merchants like them, practitioners of deceitful and dishonorable vocations carried out in what was considered a perilous and nebulous environment – the sea. It is challenging to reconcile the modern reality of a Mediterranean Sea decimated by overfishing with those ancient depictions – mostly in floor mosaics – that showcase the bounty of seafood available to Roman consumers: not just fish, eels, and rays, but also mollusks such as octopi and squid, and crustaceans, especially lobsters. Some of the finest examples of the marine still-life tradition appear as central emblemata in floor mosaics of homes in Pompeii and elsewhere around the Bay of Naples. Among the dozens of fish preparations and fish sauces attributed to the Roman gourmet Apicius, who lived at Minturnae, is a recipe for Baian Stew (9.14), which features oysters, scallops, mussels, and jellyfish sautéed in oil and then simmered in a broth of wine, raisin wine, celery, rue, pepper, coriander, cumin, and pine nuts. Numerous mosaics from Roman North Africa illustrate the various techniques employed to catch fish using nets, lines, spears, or traps (Marzano 2013, 23–38). Nets are predictably shown in different sizes and could be cast by hand, trawled behind a boat, or deployed by a team of fishermen working in tandem from boats or from boats and on shore. While line weights and net weights of lead are not uncommon finds on shipwrecks, the nets themselves almost never survive in the underwater environment. Fragmentary remains of ancient fishing nets have been found, however, along Egypt’s Red Sea coast, most recently at Myos Hormos (Thomas 2011). The physical evidence of ancient fishing in the archaeological record has only begun to receive the scholarly attention it deserves, as demonstrated by the publication of two excellent symposia on the subject (Bekker-Nielsen 2005; Bekker-Nielsen and Casasola 2010). Imperial Roman mosaic pavements featuring fish and fishing themes were often located in the most public spaces of a private home such as the triclinium or the impluvium of the atrium, suggesting that local residents celebrated visually what they enjoyed gastronomically. Pliny the Elder and Juvenal complained about the high cost of fish, particularly red mullet. Seneca the Younger (Moral Letters to Lucilius 95.42) provides a bit more context when he relates that a 4½-pound mullet, presented to the emperor Tiberius as a gift, subsequently fetched 5,000 sesterces when Tiberius ordered it to be auctioned off at the fish market, When the price of mullet climbed as high as 10,000 sesterces per fish, Tiberius is said to have passed a sumptuary law (Suetonius, Tiberius 34). Among the most tantalizing pieces of iconographic evidence for nautical archaeologists is a third-century mosaic from Althiburus, Tunisia, which features labeled depictions of more than two dozen different vessels, including fishing boats (Duval 1949). The archaeological remains of Roman watercraft are normally not sufficiently distinct to warrant the identification of specific vessel types, but an important exception to this general rule is Fiumicino 5, a small fishing boat (5.20 m long and 1.50 m in beam) from the second century ce recovered during exploration of the Claudian harbor at Ostia in the 1950s (Figure 2.3; Boetto 2006). What distinguishes Fiumicino 5 as a fishing boat is the large wooden well built into the center of the vessel. Inside the well, 19 holes drilled into the hull planking could be (and some still were) stoppered with wooden plugs to control the exchange of seawater. This unique ancient wet well is 89 cm long, 85 cm across, and 56 cm high, with a capacity of over 300 liters, the equivalent of one and a half 55-gallon drums. The evidence of Fiumicino 5 demonstrates that the resourceful fishermen of imperial Rome were prepared to meet the growing demands of an aristocratic market hungry for fresh or live fish. Given the prestige and concomitant cost of consuming fresh fish, it is hardly surprising that the artificial fish pond or piscina became an increasingly common architectural feature of many aristocratic Roman maritime villas. While most members of Rome’s senatorial class regarded the sea with distrust, the coastline became a kind of liminal stage where man could

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Figure 2.3  The second-century CE fishing boat known as Fiumicino 5 from the port of Claudius. Courtesy of Parco Archeologico Ostia Antica.



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showcase his supremacy, particularly given the advantage of hydraulic concrete. In this way, “possession of a fishpond demonstrated a control over nature and the resources with which to accomplish this in dramatic fashion” (Higginbotham 1997, 66). Higginbotham’s archaeological assessment of 56 visible (but even more submerged) fishponds along the Tyrrhenian coast of Italy from Etruria to the Bay of Naples suggests that the peak period of piscina popularity occurred in the first century bce to the first century ce. The same study revealed what contemporary literary sources Varro and Columella do not: remarkable architectural diversity in terms of layout, design, and decoration, all influenced by topography, construction technique, and access to water. This last factor, the ability to oxygenate seawater with an infusion of fresh water, was a crucial ingredient in the transition from fish-keeping to fish-farming, which was a decidedly Roman achievement (Marzano 2013, 216–220). The architect(s) who designed a large (42 × 19 m) piscina at Monteverde west of the Tiber in Rome incorporated ten dolia laid on their sides into the pool’s four walls; the vessels’ mouths were flush with the pool walls, so that the dolia became shady habitat and hiding places for the fish within (Higginbotham 1997, 116–117). Outside of Italy, the archaeological evidence for fish-farming is less abundant, being restricted to a few piscinae in the Adriatic, Spain, Egypt, and Turkey (Marzano 2013, 226–233). More evidence for the creative use of dolia comes from coastal Croatia, where the archaeological record has preserved at least eight intact or fragmentary dolia perforated with holes; their lagoonal contexts suggest that they functioned as tanks for keeping live fish (eels?), analogous to the wet well of Fiumicino 5 (Radie Rossi 2009). Archaeological and literary evidence makes clear that whole, fresh fish were the purview of wealthy Romans. Elsewhere on the culinary spectrum were salted fish (salsamentum) and fish sauces referred to collectively as garum but embracing the terms liquamen, allec, and muria. The Romans did not invent fish sauce, but they utilized it enthusiastically as both an ingredient and a condiment. Fish-processing installations have been identified all over the western Mediterranean, the Atlantic coast, and the northern Black Sea. The broad scope of the archaeological evidence has resulted in a regional approach to study and publication (Ètienne and Mayet 2002; Slim et al. 2004; Bekker-Nielsen 2005; Botte 2009; Trakadas 2015). These typically coastal installations are characterized by large, open, cement-lined vats where whole fish were salted and macerated fish fermented in a bath of salt, blood, and viscera. Evidence for the export of fish products exists in the amphoras, amphora stamps, and tituli picti that document the various sources and qualities of sauce. Garum sociorum, for example, which was produced at Carthago Nova in Spain, appears to have ranked among the tastiest, inasmuch as 2 congii (about 6.5 liters) could cost as much as 1,000 sesterces (Pliny, Natural History 31.43/94). Garum and its derivatives became so symbolic of Rome and the Roman diet that by the early sixth century, the Byzantine physician Anthimus advised against the consumption of liquamen under any circumstances (On the observance of foods 9). The key to preserving large quantities of one natural marine resource – fish – lay in the procurement of another marine resource – sea salt. Curing through the use of salt is based on a simple principle: the more salt you use, the longer salt-cured fish (or meat) will last. In this way, salt-curing made fish available to consumers far from the sea and well beyond the fishing season. The economic importance of salt in early Roman (and Italic) life is reflected in the long history of the Via Salaria, an east–west artery across the peninsula on which the Sabines carried salt collected from the marshes at the mouth of the Tiber (Pliny, Natural History 31.41/89). That salt production in Italy was a reliably steady enterprise can be inferred from numerous inscriptions mentioning salinae, salinatores, and a societas salinatorum (Marzano 2013, 132–135). The production of sea salt (as opposed to the mining of mineral salt) generally occurred through evaporation. In the Mediterranean, the archaeological remnants of this process, unlike those of fish-salting, are relatively scarce. At Caunus in southwestern Turkey (Figure 2.4), 48 shallow, circular, plastered concrete pans, each 4.30 m (14 ft) in diameter and 18 cm (7 in.) deep, constitute direct evidence for the large-scale manufacture of Caunian salt, mentioned by Pliny (Natural History 31.45/99) as a sought-after treatment for diseases of the

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Figure 2.4  Aerial view of the Roman salt pans at Caunus, Turkey. Courtesy of Sema Atik Korkmaz and Caunus Excavations.

eye. In eastern England, evaporation was hastened by heating troughs within ovens, a phenomenon visible in the archaeological record primarily through thousands of fragments of organic-tempered briquetage (Lane and Morris 2001). Farther west, the recent excavation of Hadrianic saltworks at Nantwich revealed what may be evidence for lead-lined evaporation pans, which suggests to excavators that in this case the salt may have been destined to meet the needs of Roman troops stationed nearby (Arrowsmith and Powers 2012). This brief synopsis focuses on the primary comestible products of Rome’s relationship with the bountiful sea, namely fresh fish, salt, salted fish, and fish sauces; shellfish, however, collectively represent an important secondary product, as in the farming of oysters (Marzano 2013, 173–197) and the harvesting of sea snails or murex for purple dye (Marzano 2013, 143–172). Given the overlapping production requirements (salt, sun, large open vats), it stands to reason that numerous maritime enterprises either coexisted simultaneously or alternated seasonally. Generally speaking, then, the archaeological remains of salt-curing and processing of marine resources should not be interpreted too narrowly. On the one hand, “the construction of factories with batteries of concrete vats is clearly a Roman phenomenon, reflecting a veritable fishprocessing industry” (Wilson 2007, 534), and this represents an intensification of labor and effort that characterizes so many aspects of imperial Rome. On the other hand, the foundation for these industrial accomplishments was laid centuries earlier and is appreciable in the creativity and ingenuity of sites like Cosa, where a Republican maritime villa and fishery yields evidence for the early development of one of Rome’s most consequential innovations: hydraulic concrete.

Mare Tranquillum: Roman Ports There is also a kind of powder which naturally produces wonderful results. It is found in the vicinity of Baiae and in the territory of the municipalities around Mount Vesuvius. When mixed with lime and rubble, it not only furnishes strength to other buildings, but also, when piers are built in the sea, they set under water. (Vitruvius, On Architecture 2.6.1)



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Few people who visit the Pantheon in Rome can doubt that the Roman engineers who built it in the second century ce had come very close to mastering the use of concrete as an architectural medium. Equally few people may be aware that the history of Roman concrete includes an early maritime application known as hydraulic concrete, which not only sets but continues to harden under water. Vitruvius’s recipe provides the key ingredient: a volcanic ash from the slopes of Mount Vesuvius known today as pozzolana, an appellation derived from the Italian town of Pozzuoli, ancient Puteoli. Early examples of this influential maritime technology exist in the pilae or piers located at numerous sites along Italy’s Tyrrhenian coast from Populonia in the north to Puteoli in the south. Pilae were designed to dissipate the force of incoming waves while permitting the circulation of water and preventing the accumulation of sediment. Among the most thoroughly studied concrete pilae are those from the port of colonial Cosa, founded in 273 bce. Their excavator believed that the Cosa pilae dated from the second century bce and provided crucial early evidence for the use of Roman hydraulic concrete (McCann 1987), though it has been suggested more recently that the Cosa pilae were part of a larger coordinated building program that took place in the late 70s bce (Gazda 2008). There are in fact very few absolute dates to delineate the early chronology of hydraulic concrete, but the preponderance of archaeological evidence suggests that its use developed in concert with the growth of private seaside villas and piscinae in Italy during the first century bce. By the last quarter of the first century bce pozzolana was being exported across the Mediterranean and hydraulic concrete was being mixed in huge quantities (35,000 rn3) to realize construction of the Herodian harbor at Caesarea Maritima in Judaea (see Burrell, “Judaea,” chapter 29 of this volume). Two enormous moles reached 300 m and 600 m out into the sea, enclosing a basin roughly the size of the town of Herculaneum (20 hectares). Functionally these moles supported a seawall, breakwater, promenade, and wharf; their foundations consisted of pilae created by pouring hydraulic concrete into wooden forms or caissons. Careful analysis of the pilae revealed a surprising amount of technological variety, and even demonstrated that resourceful engineers, when confronted with using non-pozzolanic concrete, deployed watertight caissons featuring mortiseand-tenon, edge-joinery – the hallmark of ancient shipbuilders (Brandon 2008). The decades-long excavation and study of the Herodian harbor at Caesarea gave rise to important and interesting questions about the sources, availability, and transport of pozzolana as a commodity, but it also catalyzed a talented group of researchers intent on finding answers to these and other questions about Rome’s relationship with the sea. The result was the ROMACONS project, a comprehensive analysis of the physical, chemical, and mechanical properties of Roman maritime concrete sampled from different sites in Italy, Greece, Turkey, Israel, and Egypt (Brandon et al. 2014). The ROMACONS project revealed that the recipe for hydraulic concrete was remarkably standardized across the Mediterranean; the variability lay in how it was implemented. Accordingly, Brandon presents a typology of the three major categories of (typically wooden) formwork and caissons (Brandon et al. 2014, 189–222). And, in an interesting example of experimental archaeology, the ROMACONS group constructed the formwork for their own pila, which they poured, sank, and subsequently cored to better understand the rate at which the concrete cured. The most sophisticated category in Brandon’s tripartite typology is the prefabricated caisson, which ranged in design from the huge single-mission barges deployed at Caesarea to the reused hulls of inoperative ships. The latter was the solution adopted by Claudius when constructing the foundation of the lighthouse at Portus, which was reportedly achieved by scuttling and filling with concrete an enormous ship originally commissioned by Caligula to transport an Egyptian obelisk and its base, weighing 500 tons, to Rome (Pliny, Natural History 16.201–202; Suetonius, Claudius 20.3). The account serves not only as a good example of Claudian frugality but also as a cautionary tale about the futility of such enormous ships; with few ports large enough to accommodate Caligula’s barge, Claudius deemed it to be of greater advantage under the water than on the water.

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Portus was unearthed during the construction of Rome’s Leonardo da Vinci airport at Fiumicino, which opened in 1961 (Testaguzza 1970). A comprehensive geophysical and topographical survey of the site between 1998 and 2004 clarified the early development of Portus in the first century (Keay et al. 2005). Before that time, commodities destined for Rome were offloaded either in open water or along the river docks at Ostia (Tuck 2013). Claudius’s ambitious project, therefore, was intended to provide safe anchorage for seagoing ships, and it gained urgency in light of the fact that Caligula had left the city on the verge of famine (Seneca the Younger, On the Brevity of Life 18). The recent geophysical survey demonstrated that Claudius accomplished more than was previously realized, including the digging of three canals connecting Portus to Ostia, Portus to the Tiber River, and the Tiber to the sea. Two large moles, created by pouring hydraulic concrete into wooden forms consisting of vertical planks attached to horizontal beams, enclosed a basin just shy of 200 hectares, which was equipped with warehouses and a dock (darsena). As the population and needs of Rome continued to grow in the second century, so did Portus, with the addition of a smaller but better-protected internal hexagonal harbor built by Trajan. It is difficult not to be captivated by the scale and sophistication of the regal and imperial projects at Caesarea and Portus, and by the scope of the archaeological remains, but it is important to remember that these sites were not typical of Roman anchorages around the Mediterranean. Rather, small harbors with modest or minimal infrastructure, such as those at Aperlae (Turkey) and Kenchreai (Greece), will have far outweighed large ports in terms of frequency, even if there is little left in the way of archaeological remains. Similarly, while imperial ports like Alexandria, Caesarea, and Portus were designed to accommodate the largest ships of their day, nautical archaeology is demonstrating that the majority of maritime commerce was carried out in smaller volumes by ships that probably rarely exceeded 50 tons burden. Offloading such vessels required relatively little port infrastructure; in many cases, ships could simply be hauled ashore on a sheltered beach (Houston 1988). In a broader anthropological sense, ports are transitional, liminal places where goods and people travel between land and sea, where cultures meet, coexist, and influence one another. In this regard, one of the most valuable datasets for understanding the relationship of Romans and the sea are the thousands of inscriptions from Ostia and Portus that illuminate the professional, social, and religious activities of those individuals living and working in a Roman port. The corpus constitutes our best source of information for maritime guilds (Meiggs 1973, 311–336) like those of the grain merchants (mercatores frumentarii), fishermen (piscatores), sand dredgers (saburrarii), salvors (urinatores), and shipwrights (fabri navales). Guild records also reveal two major groups of boat operators, the lenuncularii and the codicarii; in the second century, the former numbered more than 250 members organized into five separate guilds. The vessels they operated are very likely to have been oared lighters like those depicted in mosaics, tomb paintings, and funerary reliefs offloading cargo and moving it upriver (Casson 1965). Fiumicino 1, one of the five vessels recovered during construction of Leonardo da Vinci airport, has been confidently identified as a navis codicaria owing to the placement of the mast far forward in the hold, which would have been essential for towing the 17 m-long boat laden with 50 tons of cargo up the Tiber to Rome (Boetto 2008). The five Roman boats exposed at Portus in the late 1950s are a good example of how the excavation of silted-in harbors can provide precious opportunities to compare different vessels from the same archaeological context (Boetto 2001). Among the five Roman (and two Greek) vessels unearthed at Marseilles are three examples of a previously unknown ship type that is likely to have been a wheel-driven bucket dredge for clearing the harbor floor (Pomey 1995). Additional Roman-era ships within port contexts have come to light at Pisa (Bruni 2000) and Naples (Figure 2.5; Giampaola et al. 2005; Boetto 2009), while a staggering 37 Byzantine wrecks were recently recovered from the fourth-century Theodosian port at Yenikapi, Istanbul (Kocabaş 2012).



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Figure 2.5  Three Roman ships uncovered in the Piazza Municipio of the port of Naples, Italy. Photo by G. Avallone, courtesy of the Soprintendenza Archeologia, Belle Arti, e Paesaggio per il Comune di Napoli.

Mare Rubrum: Beyond the Mediterranean But it is the sea of Arabia that has even more right to be called “happy,” for it is that country that furnishes us with pearls. At the very lowest calculation, India, China, and the Arabian Peninsula take from our empire 100 million sesterces every year – that is the price we pay for our luxury and our women. (Pliny, Natural History 12.41)

Roman sailors were not the first to discover the seasonal monsoon winds in the northern Indian Ocean that propel ships eastward in summer and westward in winter; Roman merchants were not the first to engage in regular trade for spices, silks, and semi-precious stones from Arabia and Asia, but Roman consumers were the first to generate a market for eastern exotica that rivaled the demand for Greek art. As is so often true in Roman history, imperial Romans expanded and intensified a process (in this case a maritime trade route) that had been in place for centuries. This much is confirmed by the existence of a unique Greek manuscript known as the Periplus of the Red Sea (Periplus Maris Erythrae: PME), written by an Egyptian merchant very probably in the third quarter of the first century ce (Casson 1989). More than just a navigational aid, the PME is a merchant’s manual based on experience acquired over decades or generations. While scholars

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continue to debate authorship of the PME (Boussac, Salles and Yon 2012), its broad geographical scope – which reaches from East Africa to the Bay of Bengal – makes it an especially instructive resource for any discussion of maritime trade in the Indian Ocean during the Roman Empire. Predictably, perhaps, Pliny (above) expresses disdain for the trade in foreign luxury items and the huge sums involved. Pliny’s contempt for pearls is particularly relevant because of their intense popularity in the early empire (Schörle 2015). The acquisition of pearls was said to have been a factor in Caesar’s invasion of Britain (Suetonius, Julius Caesar 47); his subsequent dedication of a pearl-studded cuirass to Venus Genetrix symbolized the military spoils of his victory over Ocean (Flory 1988). Pearls are a conspicuous feature of painted funerary portraits from the Fayum in Egypt, and a common theme among first-century elegiac love poems. Their appearance in Mediterranean archaeological contexts, however, is far less frequent, being limited to just a handful of examples (Donkin 1998, 80–104). In many ways, this imbalance is symptomatic of Rome’s relationship with the East: while the overwhelming majority of source material is literary (texts, inscriptions, and papyri), the organic nature of the commodities involved (spices, textiles, aromatics) hinders their survival in the archaeological record. Only relatively recently have excavations in the Red Sea and India enhanced dramatically the material record of this trade; for concision we will review four sites situated along what must have been a major mercantile artery in the Indian Ocean. Following the annexation of Egypt into the Roman Empire in 30 bce, Romans assumed a more dynamic presence on the Red Sea, and this presence is visible in the archaeological records of two major Egyptian port cities mentioned in the PME: Berenike and Myos Hormos (see Wendrich, “Egypt,” chapter 31 of this volume). Excavations at Berenike suggest a peak in prosperity that is roughly contemporaneous with the PME. Among the finds categorized by Sidebotham (2011, 216–251) as imports from India (and neighboring Sri Lanka) are comestibles including black pepper, coconuts, rice, mung beans, gooseberries, and sesame seeds, as well as ornamental items such as cotton textiles, pearls, sapphires, and beads of glass and stone. Large timbers of Indian teak and Lebanese cedar, probably repurposed from dismantled ships, were incorporated into the walls of various late Roman edifices. Chunks of solidified tree resin represent incense (i.e., frankincense and myrrh) from Arabia, presumably destined for Mediterranean markets. Among ceramic finds at Berenike, Dressel 2–4 transport amphoras outnumber all other types, and point to a healthy demand for Italian wine. That this demand extended beyond the Red Sea is confirmed not only by the PME and the discovery of similar amphoras in India, but also by an important corpus of ostraka from a trash dump northwest of the city. These ostraka contain customs records documenting the size of consignments, the types of wine, and the names of various containers, including what is probably a leather bag. The artifactual and textual finds from Roman Berenike are, in a word, staggering, and their historical impact will resonate for centuries; this achievement is even more astounding in light of the fact that just 2% of the site has been excavated. Roughly 300  km (185  miles) north of Berenike, nearly contemporaneous excavations at Myos Hormos (Peacock and Blue 2006, 2011) revealed the remains of a port founded shortly after the Roman Empire’s incorporation of Egypt and home to much of the same material (coconuts, peppercorns, sailcloth, Indian ceramics) seen at Berenike. That Myos Hormos was founded for the express purpose of maritime commerce is made clear by the discovery of a huge jetty, some 60  m (200  ft) long, installed at the edge of a mangrove swamp in the late first century bce or first century ce. This jetty was realized by filling hundreds of complete Italian and Egyptian transport amphoras with sediment, positioning them in the mud, and topping them with trampled earth to form a “hard” – basically, a paved path for offloading cargo or servicing ships. The amphora jetty at Myos Hormos is a resourceful and relatively inexpensive form of land reclamation that echoes the site’s ephemeral nature and position at the edge of the Roman Empire (Tomber 2008, 61); certainly it represents a more practical and affordable alternative to the elaborate concrete moles under construction at Caesarea at the very same time.



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Two major sites in India have provided extensive archaeological evidence for the nature of exchange with the Roman Mediterraean: Arikamedu on the southeast coast near Pondicherry and Muziris on the southwest coast. The excavation of Arikamedu dates back to the 1940s, making the site “the birthplace of Indian Ocean archaeology” (Seland 2014, 371). Ongoing research and expanded excavations in the 1990s brought about important revisions of the initial work by showing that the Rouletted Ware first found at Arikamedu was in fact a local, Indian product, not a Mediterranean import, as first surmised, and that the site itself was an important regional source for the manufacture of glass beads (Begley 1996, 2004). As the first site in India to yield Mediterranean artifacts of Roman date, Arikamedu was for a long time exceptional for its assemblage of Roman red-slipped terra sigillata tableware. Production stamps indicate that much of the sigillata at Arikamedu originated in the western Mediterranean, giving scholars cause to speculate about the possibility that a small community of Romans was permanently in residence. Walking surveys carried out in the 1990s in the state of Kerala, just 4 km (2.5 miles) from India’s Arabian coast, led to the identification of the modern village of Pattanam as the ancient port city of Muziris, noted for its prosperity by the author of the PME (54). Excavations there between 2007 and 2011 brought to light maritime infrastructure in the form of a brick-faced wharf, 6 m (20 ft) long and 7.3 m (24 ft) wide (Cherian 2011). In close association with the wharf was a teak bollard and a dugout canoe preserved to a length of 6 m (20 ft); radiocarbon analysis returned a date range of 36 bce to 24 ce. Beneath the canoe was a stratum of Roman and Indian ceramics, which, in turn, overlaid a thick, sealed stratum of botanical remains representing a dazzling array of wood, seeds, and spices. The existing pottery assemblage from Muziris includes some 3.5 million(!) sherds of locally produced ceramic vessels, lamps, spindle whorls, knobs, stoppers, tiles, and bricks, alongside over 6,000 sherds of Mediterranean (mostly Dressel 2–4) wine amphoras and more than 100 sherds of Roman terra sigillata (Tomber 2017). Other finds include glass fragments, glass and stone beads, metal objects, coins, and uncarved cameo stones. Of course, Roman amphoras do not necessarily signify Roman merchants or even Roman merchant ships. One must remember that the Romans were one of many troupes on the dynamic, multicultural stage that was the western Indian Ocean (Seland 2014). To that end, let us also consider the evidence of the fragmentary mid-second-century ce Muziris Papyrus. Its provenance is unknown, but it was written in Greek and preserves some details of a contract involving an Alexandrian merchant and a financier underwriting a shipment from Muziris aboard a ship called Hermapollon (Rathbone 2000). The 150-ton cargo, which was comprised of ivory tusks, nard, and an unknown commodity (pepper?), was valued at about 7,000,000 sesterces after taxes. Knowing as we do that Rome collected a 25% tax (called a tetarte) on all Eastern goods entering the empire, and that, following the estimation of Strabo, Geography (2.5.12), 120 ships sailed from Myos Hormos to India in a year, the yearly tax collected might have been in the neighborhood of 275 million sesterces annually. Thus, it is not hard to appreciate the combined sensory and pecuniary value of maritime trade in the Indian Ocean. A Latin inscription excavated recently in the Farasan Islands (Saudi Arabia) provides direct evidence for the presence of a military squadron, drawn from the legion established by Trajan at Alexandria, in the Red Sea area in 143–144 ce. It is reasonable to ponder whether a Trajanic policy aimed at control of the Red Sea may have been motivated by a desire to protect Roman economic interests (Nappo 2015). In conclusion, terrestrial archaeology has shed precious light on several major emporia that lay at the terminal ends of a vibrant and complex commercial network in the western Indian Ocean. Textual sources provide us with amazing detail regarding the scope and quantities of this trade. What remains tantalizingly absent from this picture are more data about the ships and merchants that brought it to life. To date, only one ancient shipwreck from the Indian Ocean has been partially explored, at Godavaya, Sri Lanka (Muthucumarana et al. 2014).

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Among the cargo was a sizable consignment of iron bars, large ceramic storage jars, stone querns, and hemispherical ingots of blue, green, and black glass. Perhaps the latter were the raw materials destined for Indian manufacturers of glass beads, which were then exported to markets in the Red Sea and beyond.

Biographical Note Deborah Carlson is a classical archaeologist specializing in ancient Mediterranean ships and seafaring, especially their socio-cultural and religious aspects. She has directed the excavation of two ancient shipwrecks off the coast of Turkey, and has conducted research on mast-step coins and ships’ eyes. She teaches graduate seminars in the Nautical Archaeology Program at Texas A&M, and has served as President of the non-profit Institute of Nautical Archaeology since 2011.

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Schörle, Katia. 2015. “Pearls, Power, and Profit: Mercantile Networks and Economic Considerations of the Pearl Trade in the Roman Empire.” In Across the Ocean: Nine Essays on Indo-Mediterranean Trade, edited by Federico De Romanis and Marco Maiuro, 43–54. Boston: Brill. Seland, Eivind Heldaas. 2014. “Archaeology of Trade in the Western Indian Ocean, 300 BC—AD 700.” Journal of Archaeological Research, 22, no. 4: 367–402. Sidebotham, Steven E. 2011. Berenike and the Ancient Maritime Spice Route. Berkeley: University of California Press. Slim, Hedi, Pol Trousset, Roland Paskoff, and Ameur Oueslati. 2004. Le littoral de la Tunisie: Étude géoarchéologique et historique. Paris: CNRS. Steffy, J. Richard. 1994. Wooden Shipbuilding and the Interpretation of Shipwrecks. College Station: Texas A&M University Press. Strauss, Julia. 2013. Shipwrecks Database. Version 1.0. Accessed January 01 2019: oxrep.classics.ox.ac. uk/databases/shipwrecks_database Testaguzza, Otello. 1970. Portus: Illustrazione dei porti di Claudio e Traiano e della città di Porto a Fiumicino. Rome: Julia. Thomas, Ross. 2011. “Fishing Activity.” In Myos Hormos – Quseir al-Qadim: Roman and Islamic Ports on the Red Sea, 2: Finds from the Excavations 1999–2003, edited by David Peacock and Lucy Blue, British Archaeological Reports International Series 2286, 211–219. Oxford: Archaeopress. Tomber, Roberta. 2008. Indo-Roman Trade: From Pots to Pepper. London: Duckworth. Tomber, Roberta. 2017. “The Roman Pottery from Pattanam.” In Imperial Rome, Indian Ocean Regions and Muziris: New Perspectives on Maritime Trade, edited by K. S. Mathew, 250–258. London: Routledge. Trakadas, Athena. 2015. Fish-salting in the Northwest Maghreb in Antiquity: A Gazetteer of Sites and Resources. Oxford: Archaeopress. Tuck, Stephen L. 2013. “Ports.” In A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Republic, edited by Jane De Rose Evans, 323–334. Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell. Tusa, Sebastiano, and Jeffrey Royal. 2012. “The landscape of the naval battle at the Egadi Islands (241 B.C.).” Journal of Roman Archaeology, 25: 7–48. Vishnia, Rachel. 1988. “Cicero, The Republic, 2.5–9: On the Disadvantages of a Maritime City.” Mediterranean Historical Review, 3: 186–197. Wallinga, Herman T. 1956. The Boarding-Bridge of the Romans: Its Construction and its Function in the Naval Tactics of the First Punic War. Groningen: J.B. Wolters. Wilson, Andrew I. 2007. “Fishy Business: Roman Exploitation of Marine Resources.” Journal of Roman Archaeology, 19: 525–537. Wilson, Andrew I. 2009. “Approaches to Quantifying Roman Trade.” In Quantifying the Roman Economy: Methods and Problems, edited by Alan K. Bowman and Andrew Wilson, 213–249. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

CHAPTER 3

Roads and Waterways R. Bruce Hitchner

…On the one hand you [Romans] have surveyed the whole world, on the other you have spanned rivers with all kinds of bridges. By cutting through mountains you have made land travel feasible; you have filled the desert with way stations, and you have civilized everything with your lifestyle and organization. — Aelius Aristides, To Rome 101 (Trans. R. Talbert)

Introduction Roads and inland waterways were the core components of the massive inland transportation network of the Roman Empire. Together they provided strategic communications between Rome and the provinces, supported military operations, and facilitated the movement of people, ideas, money, goods, services. They were the vascular system that sustained the life of the empire for more than four hundred years. Our knowledge of the road and river network is derived from archaeology (aerial and ground-based), epigraphy (especially inscribed milestones), itineraries including the famous Peutinger Map, the law codes, the writings of the Roman land surveyors, and isolated references in ancient authors (Cuntz 1929; A. and M. Levi 1967; Radke 1971; Chevallier 1976; Laurence 1999, 2011; Campbell 2000; Salway 2001, 2005; Talbert 2010). We are less well-informed regarding rivers (as well as canals and other inland waterways) in the transport system as a consequence of changing climactic and environmental factors (see below). Fortunately, there has been a notable increase in riverine archaeological and environmental research (Campbell 2012; Franconi 2017).

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 1, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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General Observations Roads Contemporaries were especially impressed by the massive Roman investment in road building, estimated at 120,000  km2 (Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Roman Antiquities 3.67.5; Aelius Aristides, To Rome 101; Kissel 2002). Admiration for the quality and extent of Roman roads is not restricted to antiquity. In France, for example, much of the network was still in active use until the advent of the railroad. “Some Roman roads had been marked on maps since the seventeenth century, not for antiquarian interest, but because they were the best roads available” (Robb 2007, 222). Long stretches of Roman roads or tracks continued to be employed throughout France and elsewhere in regions formerly part of the empire. As the Marquis de Mirabeau observed in 1756, “Roman roads had been built for eternity while a typical French road could be wrecked within a year by a moderate-sized colony of moles” (quoted in Robb 2007, 222). Again, according to him, a stretch of the Roman road from Besançon to Langres was “so complete and solid … the weight and movement of carriages made no impression on it.” The quality of Roman construction is also reflected in the terms used by the French to describe their roads: camin ferrat or chemin ferré (paved road). They were also sometimes called the chemin de César or chemin du Diable, as it was believed that only Caesar or the devil could build roads capable of lasting so long. Similar comments could be cited from early modern European writers, but the point should be clear. Roads throughout human history have been famously expensive to build and maintain. Under the Roman Empire, cost was subordinated to the reality that some regions could not be accessed by navigable waterways making road construction essential. Roads were also less affected (though not entirely so) by the seasonal challenges of flooding, freezing, and water depletion facing waterways (Pekary 1968; Harris 2000; Kissel 2002; Hitchner 2008). Responsibility for the network was apportioned, depending on purpose, between the Roman state (especially the army), local authorities, and private individuals. The Roman land surveyors and jurists divided roads (viae), as distinguished from tracks and paths (actus, semita, iter), into three broad categories: public (viae publicae), local and shared (viae vicinales), and private roads (viae privatae) (Siculus Flaccus 146l; Digest 8.1.13, 3.7; Laurence 1999, 58–62). Public roads included the great interregional trunk roads, some of which were specifically designated as viae militares (Hyginus 2, Book on Surveying (Liber Gromaticus), C 137.6-7 = T 134 = L 169.3; C 189.34 = L w41.7. 9; Hyginus 1, On Fields (de Agris) 28; Campbell 2000, 374; Sillières 1986, 783–790, 821; Pekáry 1968, 10–13; Rathmann 2003, 23–31). Trunk roads, slashing through landscapes, connected the empire in a way that waterways could not. Rome began building trunk roads during the Republic when its conquests extended beyond the borders of Latium (Laurence 1999, 11–57). They were an extension of Roman power, allowing armies to move and be supplied more rapidly and efficiently. The great roads also ensured that distant colonies as well as allies remained secure and in close touch with the Republican state. The creation of the provinces in Spain and Macedonia in the second century bce led to the construction of the first great roads outside the Italian peninsula. But the main period of road development under the empire took place between the reign of Augustus and the early second century ce. The Roman government never lost sight of the strategic importance of roads to the political and military unity of the empire (Fulford 1992). Indeed, it can never be forgotten in this regard that roads were a fundamental tool of Roman expansion and imperialism, and that their creation and maintenance came at a high price to the newly subjugated. Roads brought Roman armies, tax collectors, and the tools of oppression. Roads could cruelly bypass long-standing local communities. Roads brought painful change, but they could also be a force for continuity (Ramgopal 2022, 13–15). Trunk roads often comprised both new roadway and upgraded stretches of preexisting routes, and were generally constructed for use by wheeled vehicles, and to resist erosive forces



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of nature. New sections of trunk road are often distinguishable by their long, straight stretches designed to find the shortest distance between two points irrespective of topography, in contrast to the sinuousness of improved sections of older roads. Good examples of this mixed approach are found on the main road between Autun and Auxerre in eastern Gaul, where both improved La Tène period roadway and expanses of new straight road have been identified (Kazprzyk and Nouvel 2011), and the Carthage-Theveste Road, which deviates in places from the earlier (Punic) road (de Vos Raaijmakers and Attoui 2015, 25). Trunk roads sometimes bypassed preexisting routes. The ancient road to Bibracte, the oppidum of the Aedui in Gaul, for example, was bypassed in favor of a new road through their new civitas capital of Augustodunum (Autun). Trunk roads stimulated the improvement of older regional roads and tracks, as well as the construction of new secondary and private roads all along their course. In some instances, secondary roads replaced sections of trunk roads in importance, a development that coincided, as we shall see, with the growth of the road system beyond its original, mainly strategic and military, purposes. The development of the Roman road network fostered numerous roadside settlements, some of which were dedicated to the temporary lodging and servicing of travelers, including imperial officials. Lodging and service properties ranged from small private inns to substantial villa-like complexes and villages that included baths, cult buildings, stables, pens, forges, warehouses, and stores, for example. The wide range of terms used to identify them (mansio, mutatio, caupona, stabulum, praetoria, taberna, statio, etc.) reflect their considerable variation in form, function, and administrative status (Leveau 2014a). Archaeology over the last few decades has begun to identify these facilities, but it is difficult to correlate physical remains with the categories noted above. It is best to think in terms of two broad groupings: (1) establishments that served official administrative purposes, that is, the vehiculatio established under Augustus (Suetonius, Augustus 49.5) and later the cursus publicus (Kolb 2000, 51); and (2) private lodging facilities for regular travelers, with the caveat that the line between public and private in the use of these establishments was probably fluid (Leveau 2014b, 2016; Colleoni 2016). Many towns also constructed inns, sometimes identified in texts or inscriptions as mansiones, on their outskirts. Good examples may be found at Octodurus (Martigny, Switzerland) and Uthina (Oudna, Tunisia) (Leveau and Wiblé 2014); the so-called Maison du Trifolium and Thermes des Cyclopes at the main eastern road entrance to Thugga (modern Dougga, Tunisia) may form a similar complex. These included stables, cult buildings, forges, bath facilities, and other amenities designed to meet the needs of travelers. Towns, villages, and regions off trunk roads were served by a network of smaller roads and pathways that fell under the responsibility of local authorities including landowners. Private roads were identified as those leading from the public or high roads to individual farms and estates (Digest 43, 8, 23). A private road became public when the memory of its private constructors was lost (Digest 43, 7, 3). The weakest links in any premodern road network were invariably where waterways had to be crossed. Rivers could be hazardous even in their most placid state, and fords were generally rare and best crossed at low water. In response, the Roman state financed or encouraged investment in permanent, high-quality bridge building all across the empire, a clear indication of the degree to which Rome envisioned roads as a more efficient and reliable mode of transport than water (Barruol, Fiches, and Garmey 2011; Galliazzo 1994; O’Connor 1994; Laurence 1999, 73–76). The construction of high-quality roads and bridges would have counted for little if they had not been kept in regular repair. Some indication of the ongoing investment in road and bridge maintenance can be inferred from the fact that it is often difficult to find milestones mentioning repairs that predate the latest such initiative, even though we know that many public roads were constructed in the early imperial period. Milestone inscriptions in Africa, for example, indicate frequent road repair, reflecting the importance of maintaining the road system (Salama 1987; Laurence 2011, who also notes a dropoff in the deployment of milestones under the late empire).

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Rivers and Inland Waterways Rivers and their tributaries were used extensively in the Roman Empire for commodity transport (Campbell 2012; Franconi 2017). Lumber, metal, stone, and other bulk materials such as consignments of wine in barrels or amphorae, for instance, were cost-effectively transported by rivers, canals, and navigable streams (Campbell 2012). The scale of riverine commerce facilitated the emergence of cargo-carrying barge companies along the Rhone at Arles, Vienne, and Lyon, for example (Christol and Fiches 1999; Leveau 2017). The great rivers – the Rhine, Rhone, Nile, Danube, Po, and Tiber among others – were clearly major transport arteries (Franconi 2014; Gibbs 2012; Jones 2009; Adams and Laurence 2001, 148–176, 2007; Christol and Fiches 1999). Strabo (Geography 4.1.6, 4.3.1) stressed the importance of emporia along rivers. Secondary rivers were also heavily engaged in commerce: a good example is the Ljubljanica in Pannonia (Slovenia), though the construction of a nearby Roman road in the early empire evidently contributed to a decline in river-borne trade (Turk et al. 2009). The appearance of new ports, emporia, towns, and villas along river banks and at the junction of roads and inland rivers is a notable feature of transport development under the empire (Purcell 2017; Adams 2012; Laurence 1999, 2005; Ellmers 1978; Casson 1965; Beal, Coquide, and Tenu 2013 for the riverine villa at Asa Paulini along the Saone). That said, the reliability of rivers was affected by currents, rapids, narrows, silting, channel degradation, changing climate conditions, and seasonality. Northern waterways could freeze and flood heavily in the winter and spring; those in the more arid Mediterranean could experience steep seasonal declines in volume or disappear altogether (Franconi 2017, 2016; Wilson 2017). Still others, like the Rhone, had currents that were too strong in places for navigation (Strabo, Geography 4.1.14). To offset these challenges, the Romans invested in appropriate shipping technologies: tow paths and canals such as the Fossa Marianae in Provence, the Fossa Augusta in northern Italy, the Fossa Corbulonis linking the Rhine to the Meuse, the canal at Portus in Italy, the canal near the Iron Gate on the Danube (Šašel 1973), and others at the Red Sea (Aubert 2004), in Spain, and in Gaul (Bonnet 1982; Miller 2002; Saloman et al. 2014; de Kort and Racsynski-Henk 2014). The interplay between roads and waterways was thus critical. Significantly, in contrast to nineteenth-century France, where high-quality roads and railroads virtually killed off river and canal transport, waterways in the less-transformative technological world of the Roman Empire rarely lost their utility.

Assessing the Impact of Roads and Rivers The benefits derived from a transportation network are of necessity qualitative and therefore difficult to measure quantitatively (Njoh 2000). From a strictly technical and engineering standpoint, Roman investment in waterways and roads annihilated distance as never before in antiquity, and thus certainly enhanced the efficiency, speed, and volume with which goods, commodities and people (see below) were transported across the empire (Wilson 2009). To be sure, transportation by land and sea in the Roman Empire was glacial by modern standards; studies of its velocity have expanded in recent years (e.g. ORBIS 2018), though this approach is an anachronistic imposition of modern criteria on the relationship between transportation velocity and economic performance in the decidedly premodern Roman economy. Nevertheless, it was the empire’s capacity to move goods and people more easily and securely, even if at a much slower pace than now, across both short and long distances, that matters in



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any assessment of travel performance and related activities. The construction of good-quality roads in the Alps under Augustus, for instance, contributed to the emergence of transport companies, such as the splendidissimum corpus mercatorum Cisalpinorum et Transalpinorum, which contracted with the army and private individuals to transport large volumes of goods by animal and cart through the Alpine passes. The company had branch offices as far apart as Rennes, Cologne, and Budapest (Walser 1989; Leveau 2003). For the most part, the quality of Roman roads did not diminish as they covered more miles, as was often the case with long-distance road building in preindustrial societies, and inland waterways remained operational throughout the Roman period. Roman authorities seem to have understood that transportation was a value-based transaction involving tension between the advantage gained and the cost involved. Poorly maintained roads and waterways, as well as unregulated cartage, loads, and animals, significantly increased time, effort, and expense in terms of transport. Where constraints existed in both static and dynamic technologies, shorter-distance routes were the rule, as many of the itineraries suggest. Good roads, on the other hand, sufficiently offset the frictions posed by distance and environment to make investment in their upkeep worthwhile (Laurence 2005; Carreras and De Soto 2013). But perhaps a better way to assess the impact of the Roman inland transportation system is to consider what would have not occurred in its absence. Without a network of good roads, overall market development would have been severely constrained. In the absence of a serviceable road system, opening new land for cultivation and stock raising would have amounted to economic suicide. Poor roads would have diminished and in some cases eliminated altogether the use of wheeled vehicles, and especially the establishment of the well-developed Roman cartage technology (Perla 1998; Millar 2002; Adams 2012). The widespread opening and exploitation of quarries and mines, as well as the extraction of lumber and other resources, would have been impossible (see below). So, what did good roads and accessible rivers contribute to the economy, culture, society, and the political order of the empire? To begin with, they improved access to existing towns and were a stimulus for the foundation of new ones, particularly in the western provinces, such as Boutae (modern Annecy Le Vieux) and Samobriva (Amiens) in Gaul. Many towns in the interior of Africa and Numidia, most notably Lambaesis, Cuicul, Ammadara, Sufetula, and Thelepte, were new foundations, often converted from military bases situated along the viae militares. The role of the army in constructing roads, supply, trade, and production is, of course, well-established (Roth and Roth 1999) and continues to be documented in various provinces (see, e.g., Duch 2015, 235–260 on road development in Moesia). Good roads, in turn, gave towns improved access to the agricultural produce and the natural resources of their own and more distant regions. Roads allowed towns to grow as markets, centers of specialized production and warehousing locations serving interregional trade networks, activities vividly demonstrated by the tabernae and workshops in towns whose goods circulated well beyond their immediate regions (Mayer 2012). Roads made it profitable for towns to create and promote cults and festivals that lured visitors from great distances, not least wealthy people with money to spend. Roads themselves were the site of cults (Panaite 2013). Nodal towns, such as the capitals of provinces, most benefited from this, but roads opened this opportunity to many formerly obscure but now ambitious towns (Dio Chrysostom, Oration 35.14–16; Jones 1978). High-quality roads facilitated investment in agriculture on an unparalleled scale. Towns, to be sure, were the prime stimulus, but good roads lowered the risks and costs of producing and shipping produce, livestock (some of which were raised chiefly as transport animals: see Colominas and Edwards 2017), natural resources, and other goods to local and more distant urban markets, as well as military installations (Roth and Roth 1999; Laurence 1999). In south-central and eastern Britain, the dense road network advanced grain production and the domestic cultivation of imported fruits and vegetables for a consumer market that included towns, army camps, villas, villages, and even small farms (Van der Veen

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2014). The same holds true for the introduction of wine into Gaul (Figueiral et al. 2010). Because fruits and vegetables are perishable and seasonal, they need to move quickly; the roads and rivers made this possible. Well-built roads linking the coastal Sahel in eastern Tunisia with the interior high steppe likewise permitted the development of large-scale inland cultivation of olive oil for export as early as the late first to early second century ce (Mattingly 1988; Hitchner 2012; Hobson 2015). In the second century, the construction of the Via Karthagine in the region of Thugga in northern Tunisia facilitated the export of local grain, olive oil, wine, and manufactured goods to Carthage and ultimately Rome and the Mediterranean (de Vos 2013; de Vos Raaijmakers and Attoui 2015). The critical role played by roads in Africa Proconsularis and Numidia in the supply of oil for the annona continued well into late antiquity (Pena 1998; de Vos Raaijmakers 2019). A similar correlation between roads and agricultural development is evident in central Asia Minor where estate-scale grain production serving the Danubian and Illyrian legions was established by rich Italian immigrants and Asian aristocrats in tandem with the construction of the Roman road network in the first century ce (French 2012–2016; Mitchell 1993). A similar co-evolution of agriculture and the Roman transportation network was at work in Baetica (Sillières 1982, 1986). The mobility generated by roads allowed estate owners to make greater use of cheaper seasonal labor for the harvest rather than retaining slaves year-round for this purpose (Laurence 1999). The famous inscription of the Harvester of Mactar in Tunisia claimed that many years of travel on the roads leading gangs of harvesters in the provinces of Africa and Numidia brought him wealth, status, and election to high office in his adopted hometown (Shaw 2013). The inland transportation network played an important role in the exploitation, trade, and shipment of commodities. Marble from Asia Minor, Numidia, and Egypt found its way to markets in part through well-maintained overland routes as did metals from a host of different provinces (Russell 2013; Chaouali 2013; Hirt 2010; Mitchell 1993; Wilson 2015; Glicksman 2005). The building stone used in local towns and villas was conveyed from nearby quarries by local roads or waterways, including canals (Pichon 2002) specifically designed for this purpose (Maligorne, Éveillard, and Chauris 2002; González Álvarez 2011). Oak timber was transferred by river from the German Rhineland, the Ardennes, and the Scheldt region to the Netherlands (Domínguez-Delmás et al. 2014; van Lanen et al. 2016). Rice, pepper, and other luxury goods bound for Italy arrived at Mursa in Pannonia by road (Reed and Leleković 2017). Further regional archaeological evidence for exchange of commodities could easily be compounded, but these examples indicate something of the extent and intensity of road and riverine commerce. Perhaps the best-attested example of the impact of roads and waterways on the development of long-distance trade is the rise of the mass market in red-slipped pottery (terra sigillata) in northwest Europe (Lewit 2013; Kiiskinen 2013; Van Oyen 2015; Dannell and Mees 2016; see Hudson, Pottery, chapter 5 of this volume). First produced in Italy around 30 bce, it was mainly shipped via sea to Narbonne and Arles from which it penetrated into the interior of Gaul via the Rhone and other rivers and along existing La Tène period routes. Between 20 and 15 bce, production shifted to Lyon at the junction of the Rhone and the new trunk road established by Agrippa. Production of these wares migrated to workshops at La Graufesenque, an oppidum along the Tarn River in a mountainous area of southwestern Gaul. The site benefited from good sources of clay and an abundant wood supply that could be transported by river. Because the Tarn was not navigable throughout the year, however, it was only with the upgrading of a road linking La Graufesenque to the Via Domitia and the trunk road linking Bordeaux and Lyon in the mid-first century ce, a road that was subsequently rebuilt four times before the end of the century, that the mass market for La Graufesenque wares serving Gaul, the Germanies, and Britain took off. This dependence on roads continued with the replacement of La Graufesenque by the south Gaulish workshops at Montans (which transported their wares by road to



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Toulouse, as well as on the Tarn river), and at Banassac, which was not located on a navigable river. The Central Gaulish terra sigillata producers at Lezoux and nearby Martres-de-Veyre, mainly dated to the second century ce, were likewise located along roads at some distance from major waterways. The East Gaulish workshops – located primarily in the Moselle, Argon, and Ardennes regions – were similarly positioned on roads. The point here is not to trace the history of the market in fine pottery but to illustrate the central role played by Roman roads and waterways in shaping the development of regional and long-distance inland markets (Fulford 1992).

Culture Roads did more than hasten and increase the movement of good and resources; they set people on the move – not just officials, soldiers, merchants, and farmers, but also artisans, laborers, entertainers, athletes, teachers, philosophers, pilgrims, and tourists. Roads introduced new foods and changes in diet, new clothes, technologies, literary, artistic and architectural traditions, ideas, religions, and languages. Roman roads made travel easier and more efficient and provided greater and more frequent access to more distant destinations (Eckardt and Müldner 2016). In this process, provincial communities did not necessarily lose their own sense of identity or become culturally and materially overwhelmed by the activity generated by the roads. Rather, they were furnished with a new toolkit of global knowledge and materials that surpassed anything acquired previously. At the same time, human interactions along roads may have taken on a more fleeting, temporary, and ephemeral quality as people moved more easily and rapidly across vast swaths of space than ever before. Roads had their hazards, to be sure. They were the haunts of bandits, facilitators of dangerous rumor and rebellion (Shaw 1984), and of advantage to marauding barbarians once past the Roman military frontier. After the third century, the fortification of roads was integrated fully into Roman defense strategy against barbarians. Roads became increasingly heavily traveled and sometimes congested (Salama 1987). Heavily used roads could also have the countereffect of driving away trade and contact from roads and pathways far removed from them, leaving some communities and people more isolated than before. It is certainly clear that regions detached from the transportation network had less exposure to the empire’s cultural experience (Woolf 1998, 169–205). Nevertheless, the experience of so many “passing through” gave rise to a new or intensified consciousness of the world. In sum, the Roman transportation network united people throughout the empire – not just in terms of space but also in their minds and worldview.

Conclusion In the late third century ce, a large wall map of the Roman world, “a picture of the world,” graced the porticoes of the famous school at Augustodunum (Autun) in central Gaul. The map, we are told, permitted “young men to see and contemplate daily every land and all the seas,” as well as the “sites of all locations with their names, their extent, and the distances between them, the sources and terminations of all the rivers, the curves of all the shores, and the Ocean, both where its circuit girds the earth and where its pressure breaks into it.” The map was regularly updated “as eager messengers constantly arrive with news from all over the empire. Not only students but the public gazing upon these places will see the entirety of the

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empire in the words arriving with the messengers” (Latin Panegyrics 9.20.1; Graham 2006). Here we can see most vividly how the vast network of roads and rivers allowed distant knowledge and events to be brought with relative rapidity to expectant audiences in ways that mirror those by which news of the world was brought to remote towns and villages by road and rail in nineteenth-century Europe and North America. By the fourth century, the Roman Empire had become a discovered, deeply interconnected and better known world. Documents such as the Itineraries and the Peutinger Map (Graham 2006) reflect a growing knowledge of distant places. A well-maintained transportation network provided access to sought-after destinations on a scale never seen before (Metz 2008). Taken in their totality, Roman roads and inland waterways fostered an imagined body politic that transcended the purely local, creating in the process an empire that bore many of the hallmarks of an early and sustained globalization (Hitchner 2008, 2012).

Guide to Further Reading There exists no recent comprehensive study of Roman roads. Radke (1971) and Chevallier (1976) are outdated but still important general studies. Much useful information on roads can be found in the Barrington Atlas of the Roman World (Talbert 2000). On rivers and inland waterways, now see Campbell (2012) and Franconi (2016). Colleoni (2016) is an excellent collection of papers on road stations. Roth and Roth (1999) are superb on all aspects of the relationship between the army and the Roman transport network. There are a number of works on specific regional Roman roads. These include, among others, the superb study of Laurence (1999) on the Roman road network in Italy; Mitchell (1993) and French 2012–2016 on Asia Minor; the ongoing online publication of the Carte archéologique de la Gaule (2022) on Gaul; Adams (2007) on Egypt; Isaacs (1992) and Kennedy (1997) on Arabia and Jordan; Sartre (2005) on the Middle East generally; and Salama (1951, 2010) (cautiously) on Africa. Some useful websites on Roman roads include ORBIS (2018) and David French’s monographs (2012–2016) in the British Institute at Ankara open access electronic publications series.

Biographical Note R. Bruce Hitchner is Professor of Classical Studies and International Relations at Tufts University. He has directed archaeological projects in Tunisia and France and is the editor of A Companion to North Africa in Antiquity (2022).

REFERENCES Adams, Colin. 2007. Land Transport in Roman Egypt. A Study of Economics and Administration in a Roman Province. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Adams, Colin. 2012. “Transport.” In The Cambridge Companion to the Roman Economy, edited by Walter Scheidel, 218–240. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Adams, Colin, and Ray Laurence, eds. 2001. Travel and Geography in the Roman Empire. London: Routledge. Alcock, Susan E., John Bodel, and Richard J. A. Talbert, eds. 2012. Highways, Byways, and Road Systems in the Pre-Modern World. Malden: Wiley-Blackwell.



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CHAPTER 4

Coinage Barbara Burrell

Introduction This chapter concerns what Rome’s coinage did to extend its influence, almost as an assumption (as in Matthew 22:19–21, “Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s”), across formerly disparate lands and cultures. The result was that a merchant from the far-off Spanish provinces bargaining with locals in Alexandria could use a common reckoning of Roman denarii and sestertii, even if his interlocutors kept their accounts in drachmae or obols, and the actual coins they handled were tetradrachmae (Mitthof 2014, 295). This chapter concentrates on the archaeological remains – that is, the actual coins,  whether (preferably) in or (frequently) out of context, and how they may be interpreted.

How Coins Are Found and Interpreted What can we learn about coin emission or coin use in the Roman Empire from the varied types of ancient coin finds that we now possess? We have stray finds of single coins; archaeological site finds (generally low-value coins of copper alloy, often called “bronzes”); collections (“hoards”) of more valuable coins, usually deliberately cached but sometimes inadvertently lost and not recovered by their ancient owners; and public and private collections (coins chosen for variety, clarity, and rarity). The current answer is, not as much as we would like; but each provides some insight into a different aspect of what coins were meant to do, and what they actually may have done (de Callataÿ 2016). Whether stated as a whole or computed using statistical methods, a large number or proportion of coins found on an archaeological site (in a hoard, as random single finds, or both) has often been equated with prosperity, monetization, or trade in an active economy,

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 1, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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while a small number or proportion seems to imply the reverse (Katsari 2011). But as we shall see, the findspots and contexts of hoards may be missing or false, while random finds of large or small value coins are generally reported in prosperous western countries rather than in the East, as illustrated by the current partners of the European Coin Find Network, the easternmost of which is Romania. In a few Near Eastern countries, like Israel, the central antiquities authority is generous in collecting and sharing information on finds throughout its territory, but elsewhere such coins tend to accumulate unpublished in local museums (Ariel 2016; Katsari 2011, 31–33). Looting and war can threaten these, and can disperse them into the market without trace of their ancient contexts. Though every coin can give some basic information about its metal, minting, and iconography, only the few found in the context of their use can tell us much about how people spent, saved, dedicated, donated, or lost them.

Hoards Silver and gold coins represent the highest intrinsic value as well as the highest-valued monetary units, and thus the closest thing we have to a signifier for the value of the empire’s coin supply, budget, or even the grand generalization of “the Roman economy” (Lockyear 1999). Most of what we have of these coins comes from hoards, which may have been hidden for a number of reasons but were generally cached in private or controllable places, such as houses, fields, or gardens. High-value hoards are therefore rarely recovered in archaeological excavations, which tend to concentrate on monumental public buildings, and are more often accidental discoveries through agricultural work, urban construction, or demolition. Unfortunately, this introduces a factor that strongly influences how much we can know about the ancient context of these high-value coins: hoards discovered in modern times often flow directly into the antiquities and collectors’ markets, with little trustworthy documentation of their findspots and none of the contexts in which they were found. It is difficult to tell where a group of second-century Roman denarii came from if no local coins are listed among them, and though such finds in the northwestern parts of the empire are sometimes solidly documented, findspots dwindle as one travels farther east, where the clash between strict antiquities laws and local treasure-hunters, middlemen, and dealers is only exacerbated by times of crisis and political disturbance (Howgego 2014). It has also been difficult to access information on the wide range of hoards found throughout the empire, though this is now being addressed by the online Coin Hoards of the Roman Empire Project, which collects information on hoards of all coinages in use in the Roman Empire between ca. 30 bce and 400 ce (Ashmolean Museum 2019). Though scholars no longer assume a clear distinction between hoards that represent someone’s savings (unworn coins accumulated over a long period) and those snatched from currency and hidden in troubled times (thus better reflecting the coins in circulation), there is one aspect that all hoards share that makes them rather untrustworthy as instruments for assessing the general currency: they were the property of individuals, collected wherever the individuals were, carried wherever they went, and hidden for reasons that may have been common to many people, but were still particular to those individuals. Though some of that peculiarity may be filtered out by considering a larger number of hoards, even a hundred hoards only represent the monetary abilities, habits, and beliefs of a hundred people, spread over a wide and sometimes undocumented geography and a range of one or many generations (cf. Duncan-Jones 1994). Such data may reflect a host of individual circumstances rather than the economic longue durée.



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Archaeological Finds The number and type of coins found on archaeological sites and the information salvageable from them result from a number of factors, both modern and ancient, that are not generally accounted for (Lockyear 2012; Evans 2013; Chameroy 2014; Neumann 2015, 171–182; de Callataÿ 2016). Among the post-deposit factors are: what site is chosen by archaeologists to excavate (usually urban and large rather than rural and small); means and carefulness of archaeological retrieval, recording, cleaning, and conservation; extent, proportion, and depth of the portions of the site excavated; conditions of climate and freeze/thaw patterns that may bring coins to the surface; presence of small animals or insects whose burrowing may carry a coin out of its original context; metal/chemistry of coin, especially as it interacts with the soil in which it is buried; resulting condition/­legibility of coin; expertise of person identifying the coin; and accuracy and detail of publication. Among the few factors that may reflect their original ancient use or condition, size, metal, and value of coin are primary, as the smaller and lower value a coin was, the easier it would have been to lose, and the less likely to be sought after; this is why mere counts of identified excavation coins convey little about the ancient economy. For example, plentiful small bronze coins of the third and early fourth centuries are often found on archaeological sites, but this may simply signal how little they were valued in a time of inflation, or how easy they are to identify; some could even have been demonetized and tossed out as trash (Butcher 2016). Small coins of the late fourth and early fifth century are also frequently found, but are poorly struck and often illegible, cannot be assigned to a particular emperor, and therefore “fall off” published coin lists, making that period seem economically barren when it was not (Burrell 2007). Ancient conditions that influenced where and what kind of coins are found on archaeological sites include: ●

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Location, use(s) and structural type(s) of site/area excavated, including consideration of strata above and below. Means of destruction, either gradual or sudden. Context. Were the coins in primary/use, such as change kept in a jar or fallen on a floor, or secondary reuse or refuse context, such as coins in earth fill from somewhere else? Specific type of use. Examples include placement of a coin in the mouth of a buried individual, or a coin mortared into a wall either as a dedication or for retrieval. Other finds. Pottery or lamps found in the same context, for example, can give further information on date and presence of residual (earlier) items within the deposit. Date range and function of find area within the site. Location/communication of site with regard to the governmental center, as well as distance and method of dissemination from mint(s). Time coins spent in circulation. Speed and/or frequency and/or length of circulation, normally shown by wear on the coin and evaluation of its context.

Then there are influences of the wider economy that seem most important to us, such as size of the original supply of coin from the mint(s); nature of trade or exchange in that location of the site; and “monetization” of the portion(s) of the site excavated, which is sometimes taken to represent that of the entire site or even the society as a whole. Though all the factors listed here are by no means the only ones that act on our finds, it is often assumed that we can discern the factors of interest to us (economy, coin supply, etc.) directly from the number and date of coins found, often configured as an average or assessment of coins lost per year, and compared with data from other sites. But it is not just that none of

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the modern or ancient factors lines up directly with “prosperity,” “trade,” or “monetization.” It is that to isolate the influence of any one, or even to distinguish the ancient from the modern factors, is close to impossible. Even with the introduction of statistical analyses, it remains uncertain what we are measuring, and even what questions we wish to answer; that we find more coins in what seem to be commercial buildings than in what seem to be farmhouses is an instance of Kent Flannery’s (1973) “Mickey Mouse laws” that simply state an obvious and trivial generality, which may in fact be determined by our interpretation of the presence or lack of coin finds themselves. It is not that questions like the scope of the Roman economy, trade, or monetization are unimportant; it is that it is doubtful whether these can be answered as any more than a guess using the archaeological information we have. Nonetheless, there are insights to be had, though they often reflect local situations rather than macroeconomic trends (Howgego 2014, 313–314; Evans 2018, 5–117).

Collections Coins in museums, collections, and the market, like all ancient coins, are useful in that they represent examples from the huge total of ancient currency. Often they were chosen as collectors’ items because they are in better condition (thus more legible) and/or rarer than most other ancient coins, and their publication in corpora of national collections, time periods, or mints make them useful in identifying the less-legible site finds. Those in national museums or private collections have generally been shorn of useful ancient context, but as stated above, regional and local museums may preserve hoards or individual coin finds with some information about their contexts. Unfortunately, it is often difficult to access this information, or even to know which museums contain relevant coins to a study, as the smaller regional museums often lack the means, the staff, or the will to publish such information.

Conclusions If there are exhortations to be made, they should include that all archaeological excavations and local and national museums make further efforts to publish the coins in their possession, not just with bare numismatic identifications but with as full contextual information as is possible. This should also be the aim for hoards, though international legal and economic factors as well as market interests currently stand in the way.

Establishment of a “Trimetallic” System Transition from Republic to Empire As Rome acquired lands and kingdoms, each under separate provincial terms and agreements, it acquired their extant monetary systems (Figure 4.1). Since the Senate and People of Rome, their official representatives, and later their emperors did not generally issue laws that covered all areas of the empire, but responded individually to petitions and problems within each province (Millar 1977), they did not impose a one-size-fits-all monetary system. We know little of the relevant bureaucracy: so far, the most relevent inscriptions we have simply give lists of Roman mint officials’ names in the time of Trajan (CIL 6.42–44, 239, 791), and there are no documents to prove that a centralized decision-making apparatus for coinage across the



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Figure 4.1  Map of the Roman Empire and locations mentioned in this chapter. By John Wallrodt.

empire ever came into being, much less when such a thing arose. A much-cited passage of Cassius Dio (52.30.9) where the character Maecenas states that Roman coinage (and weights and measures) should be used by all the provinces is not historical, but part of a rhetorical exercise that was meant to show the development of empire from a mid-third century perspective. But governmental policies and instruments that emanated from Rome came to have deep influence on monetary systems and coinage throughout the Roman Empire, and governors and imperial officials had wide latitude in their provinces. War booty, indemnities, tribute, and taxes vacuumed up money from the peripheries (Howgego 1992, 1994; Harl 1996, 38–72; Hopkins 2002), while Roman troops and officials out in the empire’s provinces were generally (but not exclusively) paid and rewarded in Roman gold or silver coins (Howgego 2014). It is natural that traders and markets across the Mediterranean world increasingly embraced the coinage of the dominant power as the most convenient for exchange and reckoning. Of course, many of Rome’s territories were acquired well before the time of the emperors on which this volume focuses. Soon after its introduction during the Second Punic War, just before 211 bce, the denarius became the primary silver coin of Italy and Sicily. Some time thereafter (and how long is debatable), Iberian denarii became the coinage of Rome’s new possessions in the Spanish peninsula, until they were replaced by real Roman denarii (Evans 2013, 118–120). It is always difficult to tell who decided to issue (or not issue, or modify) ancient coins, as we have few documents from mints or their officials, only their products. But it seems that in areas like the western provinces, where coins issued in a city’s name were not intrinsic to its image, local coins could be and were influenced and then swamped by the abundant issues of Rome (Ripollès 2012). In Greece, however, even under Roman control, Athenian “new style” tetradrachmae and the silver of the Achaean and Thessalian Leagues continued to be minted down to the later first century bce, though denarii were filtering into Macedonia and the north, and would

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later supplant them, leaving only bronze coins to be minted in the name of a city. In Thessaly, the fee in local staters for manumitted slaves was amended under Augustus to list both the amount in staters and its equivalent in denarii (IG 9.2 415), opening local treasuries to Roman money, even if it neither required it nor ceased to give the fee in staters according to local law. Asian silver cistophori survived Attalus III’s bequest of his kingdom to Rome; though nominally tetradrachmae, they were lighter than the Athenian standard, passing at the rate of three denarii, and were eventually minted with Latin legends and the names of Roman governors and emperors, continuing intermittently as late as the reign of Hadrian. Despite Pompey’s conquests, Antioch continued to strike reduced Attic-standard tetradrachmae, as it had under its Seleucid rulers and sometimes with their portraits and legends, and Tyre still produced its own high-grade silver shekels; all eventually became part of centralized mint decisions and practices, but as mentioned, it is difficult to pinpoint how, and at whose direction. As the highest-value currency, gold coinage played an outsized role in the empire’s economy as a store of value, as well as one means of making large payments (Lo Cascio 2008). When gold aurei became a part of Rome’s standard currency, after 46 bce, other gold coinages ceased, bar a few issues of allied kings (Howgego 1992). Similarly, after the battle of Actium in 31 bce and the glut of denarii produced to pay troops, mints that had up to that point produced non-Roman silver coins began to blink out: in Achaean hoards, for example, local silver was increasingly replaced by denarii, which also became a unit of account (Schwei 2016, 121–126). Egypt’s Ptolemaic tetradrachmae, often stated to be intentionally debased so they would not circulate beyond the kingdom, remained that newly conquered province’s currency until new Tiberian tetradrachmae were issued in 20/21 ce; but these contained yet less silver (ca. 25%) than Ptolemaic issues, and were tariffed at a denarius, making an Egyptian drachma equal a Roman sestertius (Schwei 2017, 114; Butcher and Ponting 2014, 617–618). This is a landmark – the deliberate alteration of the metal and/or weight of an eastern silver coin to make it commensurate with the standard Roman denarius. As we shall see in the context of the reform of coinages under Nero, this trend would soon intensify. Later, Alexandria may have minted deliberately overvalued aurei and denarii to issue to soldiers and merchants changing their money on departure from Egypt, as a way of skimming off additional profit (Lempereur and Blei-Lemarquand 2017). Doubtless the canny merchants included the costs of exchange in the prices of items they sold.

Augustus and the Julio-Claudians Augustus is generally credited as the inventor of Rome’s “trimetallic” currency of exchange among gold, silver, and two kinds of copper alloy coins (Figure 4.2), though as with most of his policies, he based it on what had gone before, under Caesar, and tweaked when necessary. The interchangeability of the system, with four copper asses equaling one brass sestertius, four of which could get you a silver denarius that was far greater in intrinsic value (but see below), 25 of which would garner a gold aureus, again greater in intrinsic value, was held afloat by trust and the peace (or as Tacitus, channeling his inner virtuous barbarian in Agricola 30, would have it, the wasteland) Augustus established. Augustus also moved the main mint for gold and silver from Rome to Lugdunum in Gaul, which was no doubt convenient both for shipment of metals from mines in Spain or Gaul and for payments to troops in the North and West (Harl 1996, 80; Butcher and Ponting 2014, 177–180), but more importantly, far from officeholders in Rome, and under Augustus’ direct control. The portrait of the emperor became the normal obverse for gold and silver, and soon



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Figure 4.2  The equivalent values of Roman coins according to the “trimetallic” system of Augustus. By Barbara McManus, www.vroma.org, 2006; courtesy of Dr. Suzanne Bonefas.

for brass and bronze as well, though copper alloy coins, still minted in Rome, displayed a Republican-flavored S(enatus) C(onsulto), “by decree of the Senate,” on the reverse. It was only for Nero’s first coinage reform ca. 64 ce that Rome again became the mint for all denominations, and that great changes were made in coinage across the empire (Butcher and Ponting 2014, 201–203, 232–233; Schwei 2017; see below). Whether minted at Rome, Lugdunum, or elsewhere, what may be termed “official” Roman coinage, with Latin legends, imperial portraits on the obverse, and set denominations of the “trimetallic” system, are published in the series Roman Imperial Coinage (RIC), while others are (generally) published in Roman Provincial Coinage (RPC). This modern division, however, conceals overlaps between the two, as well as changes over time.

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Coinage and Empire, Silver and Gold Before and after the Neronian Coin Reforms From the time of Augustus onward, Rome’s silver denarii and gold aurei became increasingly acceptable within, and in many places outside, the empire’s borders. Even when hoard evidence is lacking (for example, no modern dealer would admit that a coin hoard originated in Turkey, with its strict antiquities laws), this infiltration can sometimes be traced archaeologically on a local level: in the cemeteries of the small inland city of Juliopolis in Bithynia, about 114 km west of modern Ankara, 105 denarii from the time of Augustus to that of Gordian III were individually placed in burials as “coins for Charon” (Arslan 2014). As had been done by generals under the Republic, official Roman-style coins were sometimes minted for army pay and donatives on the site of major campaigns. For example, aurei and denarii were minted in the East in the late 60s ce in connection with the First Jewish Revolt, and as Tacitus (Histories 2.82) wrote, Antioch minted gold and silver for Vespasian’s attempt at the empire. Ephesos in Asia occasionally produced aurei and denarii as well as regional cistophori at this time; the cistophori bore Latin legends, as did (intermittently) the silver didrachmae and drachmae of another regional mint, Caesarea in Cappadocia, which presumably supplied coinage to central Anatolia, though again, hoard evidence to prove that is scanty. The major mints for silver coinage in eastern denominations were Ephesos and Caesarea, as mentioned, Antioch and (for a while) Tyre in Syria, and Alexandria in Egypt, but there were also occasional silver issues in the name of the koina (commonalities of cities) of Asia, Bithynia, Crete, Cyrenaica, Cyprus, and Lycia, as well as for some cities (RPC 1, 6–13; Butcher and Ponting 2014, 465–686). The weights and compositions of the silver coins these mints issued often differed. For example, the Asian cistophorus, though a tetradrachm, was far lighter than the Antiochene tetradrachm, was valued at three denarii rather than four, and grew yet lighter over time; it ceased to be issued after Hadrian. Most of these mints issued the bronze civic coinage common to many eastern cities (see below) as well. Antioch produced the widest variation of coinage at different times, including Roman-style aurei and denarii, silver tetradrachmae for its own region as well as for many other regional mints, and bronze with what looked like Roman imperial types and legends (e.g., SC) in Latin, as well as bronze civic coins with Greek legends in its own name and types (Neumann 2015, 87–130). Recent analysis has shown that high-value coins from these eastern mints (except for Tyre, issuing pure silver) were often an alloy of silver and copper, going from ca. 67% as low as 50% silver; the latter alloy had been prevalent in Cappadocia even before imperial rule (Butcher and Ponting 2009, 71–72). But with Nero’s first coinage reform of ca. 64 ce, the silver content of Roman denarii was also lowered from the essentially pure silver issued under the earlier Julio-Claudians. From that point onward, it hovered between ca. 80% silver to make up for monetary deficits, and 90% silver or above, either to restore faith in the traditional currency or to pull the issues with most silver out of private hands and back into the mint’s melting pots (Butcher and Ponting 2014, 434–460). This made the denarius too something of a fiduciary coin. The reforms under Nero show how interrelated the various coinages of the empire actually were. As early as 56/57 ce, the Egyptian tetradrachma’s silver content was reduced radically; then in 59 ce, Antioch raised the purity of its own silver tetradrachma. Though the coins’ name was the same, their values were different, each based on the value of a Roman coin; Egypt’s tetradrachma was worth one denarius, while Antioch’s was worth four (Butcher and Ponting 2014, 567–570, 662–664; 2009, 75–77). The most significant changes were in the Roman center, however. In 63–64 ce, minting of aurei and denarii was moved wholesale



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Figure 4.3a  Silver shekel of Tyre, year 184 = 58/59 ce. Obverse: laureate head of the god Melqart right/Reverse: ΤΥΡΟΥ ΙΕΡΑΣ ΚΑΙ ΑΣΥΛΟΥ ΚΡ ΡΠΔ eagle standing left with palm. Courtesy of the

American Numismatic Society, ANS 1944.100.72876, bequest of E.T. Newell.

Figure 4.3b  Tetradrachma of Antioch, year 111, regnal year 9 = 62-63 ce. Obverse: ΝΕΡΩΝ ΚΑΙΣΑΡ ΣΕΒΑΣΤΟΣ laureate bust of Nero right/Reverse: ΕΤΟΥΣ ΑΙΡ Θ eagle standing right on thunderbolt with palm. Courtesy of the American Numismatic Society, ANS 1956.127.2284, from Tel Kalak hoard, Jordan.

from Lugdunum to Rome, and as mentioned, by 64 the denarius was reduced in fineness from 100% to 80% silver, with the aureus reduced in weight (but not purity) in tandem. Then over the years 64–66, Tyre ceased to issue its fine silver shekels (Figure 4.3a) and half shekels, but Antioch had already begun to mint new, purer (but not as pure as Tyre’s) tetradrachmae using Tyre’s well-known reverse type of an eagle (Figure 4.3b); these replaced the coins of Tyre in their former circulation area, in the southern Levant, no doubt deliberately. Though there seem to have been no changes in the coinage of Caesarea, that mint issued some coins in its own style but with types of Antioch under Nero. These entanglements indicate that the eastern silver mints, though their products had local denominations and sometimes Greek legends as inherited traditions, now operated as part of Rome’s overarching monetary machine (Schwei 2016, 270–280; 2017). Though Butcher and Ponting (2014, 679–681) held that the reforms under Nero were made not just to adjust the relative values of the precious metal coins but in order to tariff the denarius at par with a notional silver drachma of 3.45 g, Schwei (2017, 128–131) correctly observed that the primary coin around which the whole system rotated was the denarius. Though the first adjustments were made to eastern silver coinages, they seem to have been made in prospect of the central Neronian reform of aureus and denarius. By 68 ce, however, enough silver had been secured by the Rome mint that the denarius’ alloy could be raised from 80% to 90% silver.

From the Flavians to Hadrian If the Roman Empire had valued efficiency and centralization as modern governments do, the trend to regularize production, suppress the last remaining eastern silver mints, or have them mint central Roman denominations instead of eastern ones would have strengthened from the Neronian period on. But the government that rationalized the power of its absolute

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monarch with titles sanctified by ancient Republican precedents focused more on tradition than efficiency. Regional disparities were not smoothed over, and eastern provinces continued to use and speak of the drachmae and tetradrachmae basic to their traditions, even if their weight and purity were keyed to parity with the denarius. Nonetheless, it seems clear that the center at Rome had power to direct the major mints of the East. The imperial Roman mint sometimes produced coins with the legends, types, and denominations of the major eastern mint cities, especially from Flavian to Trajanic times: silver drachmae and didrachmae with Greek legends for Caesarea, or drachmae for Lycia; not just silver but brass with Latin legends for Syria, and with Greek for Cyprus (RPC 2, 11–13; Carradice and Cowell 1987; Butcher and Ponting 1995). Doubtless it would have been more practical for the central mint to simply send its own dies to peripheral mints, rather than minting the coins and entrusting the valuable (and heavy) cargo to long-distance transport by land or sea. Analysis of the coins’ metals, styles, and mint practices, however, shows that they did it the hard way, with brass coins minted for Antioch at Rome and sent East, while exactly contemporary bronzes were minted on the spot at Antioch; silver coins featuring the name and types of Caesarea issued from Rome and from the mint city itself, possibly at exactly the same time (Butcher and Ponting 2014, 533–537). Also in the Flavian period, certain eastern mints apparently began to produce coins for other provinces. For example, judging by style and some dielinks, Alexandria produced part of the silver coinage for Antioch from the first years of Vespasian intermittently to the reign of Trajan (Butcher 2004, 75–92). Antioch, on the other hand, seems to have produced silver tetradrachms and didrachms for the koinon (association of provincial cities) of Cyprus under the Flavians, cistophori for Asia and drachms for Arabia and Crete under Trajan, and coins for a number of other eastern cities up through the third century (Neumann 2015, 95, 328). Though more metallurgical analysis is needed to bolster stylistic observations, it is more likely that such interprovincial activities were under the control, and likely at the direction, of the central power than independently arranged. The circulation area for these varied types of coinage is rarely known in detail, for reasons discussed above, though “digital humanities” approaches have shown innovative ways of accumulating and displaying the data (Butcher 2004, 143–195; Neumann and Wallrodt 2017). Sometimes the patterns are surprising: for example, one or two late-first-century Lycian silver drachmae are commonly found in denarii hoards in the western provinces of the empire and even beyond its borders, but this is because in size and silver content, they effectively were denarii (Butcher 2014; Zajac 2017). As mentioned above, major eastern mints like Ephesos, Caesarea, Antioch, and Alexandria occasionally issued Roman-style aurei and denarii, probably in connection with paying Roman troops, as at the time of the First Jewish Revolt (RPC 2, 270–273). Coins of eastern denominations may also have been issued to help pay troops serving in the East: for example, judging by preserved examples and die counts, Antioch and Caesarea produced far more silver coins than usual late in Trajan’s reign, probably for his Parthian War (Beckmann 2012, 418). Taxes could be collected in kind or in local coins, and left within the province to make payments, bypassing the problems and expenses of transport and exchange (Wolters 2006); or if there was more owed to Rome than owing, transfer could be made in gold, which was more compact and easier to transport (Hopkins 2002, 227–228). It must be noted, however, that intrinsic values could sometimes affect the cost assessed when a more valuable metal coin was purchased for smaller change. For example, Egyptian papyri of Trajanic date document a decline, not in the exchange value of the gold aureus, which stood at 100 Egyptian drachmae (= sestertii), but in the agio placed on it as cost of exchange, from 15 to 11 drachmae (Mitthof 2014, 297). On the other hand, an inscription of 137 ce from Palmyra (OGIS 629), incorporating earlier laws of the province Syria, assessed taxes on various imported goods in silver denarii or Italian assaria valued at 1/16 denarius, but allowed them to be paid in local bronze coins (kerma) if the amount was under a denarius.



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This shows what may be a widespread manner of use, intermingling local (low-value) and imperial (high-value) coins or reckonings (Lönnqvist 2008; Mitthof 2014, 298; Neumann 2015, 94). Sometimes it is hard to discern why some silver coinages were issued in the East, beyond individual requests and imperial indulgence. Hadrian allowed increased silver minting in the names and denominations of eastern koina (e.g., Asia, Bithynia, Syria) and even cities (e.g., Amisos in Pontus), especially those in Cilicia (e.g., Aegeai, Seleukeia, Mopsos, Tarsos). This might have been associated with the passage of this “traveling emperor” and his massive entourage through the East, as well as the building of a provincial temple for Cilicia at Tarsos (Amandry 2014), though the needs of the troops gathered to fight the Second Jewish Revolt should not be discounted. Old, worn Asian cistophori were even restruck with Hadrian’s types (Metcalf 1980), showing again that the coins were acceptable and the system operated even when the actual silver content varied. But Asian cistophori ceased to be issued after Hadrian, and though evidence is scanty, it is most likely that denarii served the need for silver coinage in that province thereafter. An imperial letter (OGIS 484; Macro 1976) concerning the exchange rates for buying market goods at Pergamon documented the official rates (including a profit for the city) at 17 or 18 assaria per denarius; though plausibly associated with Hadrian, the document is in fact not firmly dated. The assaria mentioned should be local bronze coins, because when the standard of 16 Roman asses to the denarius was used, inscriptions qualify them as “Italian,” “silver,” or “standard” assaria (Mitthof 2014, 298– 299). Differences in value between money of reckoning, money in hand, and money in exchange could be quite complex, as those of us who once had to calculate exchange rates for foreign currencies rather than lining up at the cash machine will remember.

Later Second and Third Centuries Along with the heavy production of coins from Rome, the eastern silver mints continued their role as coin suppliers to Roman troops in the second and third centuries. Caesarea in Cappadocia minted unprecedentedly large issues of silver in connection with Lucius Verus’ Parthian War, while an unidentified mint in Mesopotamia issued coins smaller than denarii with the Greek legend “on behalf of the victory of the Romans/the Emperors” (Yarrow 2012, 426). The late second and third centuries, however, were marked by more obvious signs of debasement and depreciation in Roman silver coinages. Unfortunately, the exact composition of the metal is difficult to discern without some destructive analysis, and previous studies that focused on surface testing have been found to be untrustworthy (Ponting 2012), but the marked decrease in weight of the denarius and even the aureus after ca. 180 ce was easy for both ancients and moderns to trace. This had its effect on provincial silver, too: for example, Caesarea in Cappadocia lightened its didrachma by a third under Commodus (Yarrow 2012, 426). When the governor of Syria, Pescennius Niger, made a bid to become emperor in 193–194 ce, he caused Antioch, Alexandria, and Caesarea to emit denarii (Antioch’s of lower purity than usual) and aurei with his portrait and Latin legends; there were also some Antiochene tetradrachmae minted for him, as that city had been his headquarters as governor, and became seat of his imperial court (Herodian 2.8.6–7; Butcher 2004, 94–95, 107). The emission of official denarii and aurei with his name and portrait was in fact a symbol of Niger’s claim to empire. He was defeated, however, by Septimius Severus, who not only continued the production at those mints (and even issued so-called cistophori, Metcalf 1988) in preparation for his own Parthian War, but debased the denarii minted at Rome in these years to the low standard of Niger’s Antioch denarii (Butcher 2004, 107–108). The cities in eastern war zones also tended to issue more and larger issues of their own bronze coins, probably as small change for the soldiers’ silver.

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Where trust had previously upheld Rome’s monetary system, such debasements, plus Caracalla’s 215 ce introduction of a palpably overvalued double denarius (“antoninianus,” signaled by and sometimes named after the obverse emperor’s radiate crown, Figure 4.4a), and the increasingly frequent changes of emperor throughout the third century, each in need of more (and more debased) coins to pay troops and/or barbarian enemies and stave off his rivals, eroded that trust (Abdy 2012a). Denarii were soon replaced by their ostensible doubles, the radiates, which went through their own process of debasement and weight reductions until, by the 270s, most issues had barely any silver in them (Bland 2012; Estiot 2012, 540–548). Caracalla had also lightened the aureus, and it continued to be whittled away, though not yet debased, in the first half of the third century; the fact that gold coins were issued simultaneously at widely varying weights indicates that they were probably being weighed and valued as bullion. A sudden debasement of the aureus after 253, however, must have broken faith even in this bastion of the trimetallic system (Bland 2012, 522–523). Coinage of silver tetradrachmae, their purity decreasing along with that of the official coinage, was distributed among a larger number of eastern mints under Caracalla and his successors, again perhaps in pursuit of Parthian campaigns (Butcher 2004, 109–118). Though Antioch issued both “official” radiates and eastern tetradrachmae for Gordian III and his successors (ca. 238–253), and Caesarea (or Antioch minting for it) and perhaps other eastern mints also intermittently issued silver that was now mainly alloy, eastern “silver” coinage in Greek denominations ceased around the mid-third century, except at Alexandria, which held on until 296 (see below). Aurelian undertook a reform of Roman coinage in 274 ce: Alexandria’s tetradrachmae were reduced in weight to fit a system in which the new (ca. 5%) “silver” coin, the aurelianus, was issued at eight different mints across the empire, each with its distinctive mark; even the  mint’s subdivisions, officinae, were stamped into each coin (Estiot 2012, 545–548; Figure 4.4b). Though the mints of the West used Roman numerals and those of the East

Figure 4.4a  Antoninianus of Caracalla, 215 ce. Obverse: ANTONINVS PIVS AVG GERM radiate armored bust of Caracalla right./Reverse: PM TR P XVIII COS III PP Sarapis standing looking left, holding scepter and raising right hand. Courtesy of the American Numismatic Society, ANS 1957.172.1794.

Figure 4.4b  Aurelianus of Aurelian. Obverse: IMP C AVRELIANVS AVG Radiate armored bust of Aurelian, right/Reverse: ORIENS AVG, B; XXI in exergue. Sol standing left holding globe in left and raising right; at either side, captive. Courtesy of the American Numismatic Society, ANS 1948.19.940.



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Greek letters for their denominations, the coins were in most other respects identical, with Latin legends and standard obverse (imperial portrait, still) and reverse types. This reform was extended, amended, and made more systematic under Diocletian, starting ca. 294/5 (Abdy 2012b, 584–590). Alexandria was finally integrated into the system, and an “argenteus” of 80% silver, equal to 100 denarii communes and with subdivisions of radiate (= four denarii communes) and slightly silvered nummi (= 25 denarii communes), was introduced, while gold floated above it all as the only coin (however many to the pound it was issued) that would hold its (intrinsic) value. The argenteus soon disappeared into hoards, and other coins were revalued, but, ironically, the monetary system of the Roman Empire was at last unified just at the point at which the empire itself was partitioned among four rulers. Nonetheless, the Tetrarchs issued their edicts in unison and made them applicable to the whole empire, as is specified in the 301 ce Prices Edict, which gave maximum prices for a host of goods (at all stages of production, and ranging from Celtic beer to first-class lions), wages, services, and even types and routes of transport, all assessed in denarii (Corcoran 2000, 205–233).

Imperial and Civic Bronze Coins and Messages To return to earlier periods discussed above, brass sestertii and dupondii and copper asses and lower fractions had been issued as part of Rome’s “trimetallic” currency from Augustus’s time onward. The coins themselves were large, handsome, and well-produced, a notable contrast to the worn Republican bronzes of all ages that had previously been the only Roman token coinage in circulation. The expansive surface of the larger denominations made them especially suitable for new and more complex images, often featuring the emperor’s virtues, activities, family, or buildings, all played up as benefits to the empire. There has been much debate, not to be rehearsed here, about who chose images for coins during Roman imperial times, and whether they were meant to send messages. Again, data are insufficient to make a definitive answer, except for “it depends” (Butcher 2005). When some official or even the emperor took an interest – and Suetonius claimed that some did, as when Augustus chose to mint denarii with a Capricorn (Augustus 94.12) or Nero issued coins showing himself playing a cithara (Nero 25.2) – the types produced by the Roman mint could become very particular, or varied; at other times, already standard types simply repeated. Certainly no image that would displease the emperor was introduced (Levick 1982). On the other hand, we have few ancient accounts by anyone but Suetonius noticing what was displayed on the coinage, except for the portrait of the emperor (see introduction above, and Crawford 1983). It did not matter; if new images and legends were introduced, someone, if only at the mint, thought them worthy of attention. In addition to this imperial system of coinage, individual cities in both west and east of the empire could issue their own coins in alloys of copper, as a sign of local autonomy and a useful means of making some profit from fiduciary currency; both were mentioned when the city of Sestos honored a citizen for seeing to the issue of its bronze coins in the late second century bce (OGIS 339, lines 43–49). But whether due to economic reasons or cultural “Romanization,” civic coinages were gradually replaced by imperial issues in the West (including Italy, Spain, Gaul, and Africa except for Egypt) during the Julio-Claudian period (Burnett 2005). In the East, however, strong traditions of coinage as a symbol and part of the function of the polis, as well as the pride in Hellenic heritage so often trumpeted by orators of the time, meant that civic coinage continued and even expanded in number of issues, number of cities producing them, and variety of reverse images. Approximately 530 authorities minted coins in the eastern part of the empire at some point, starting with about 150 mints under Augustus, up to an apogee of over 360 under Septimius Severus, until these coinages ended in the fiscal crises of the early third quarter of the third century (Jones 1963, 310; Heuchert 2005; Johnston 2012).

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Civic coinage was intermittent, and the reasons for its issue likely varied: local festivals, donations from magnates, imperial favors or visits, as well as the need for small change, especially when troops were in the area. Regions whose cities or koina issued imperial period bronze coins included Moesia, Dacia, Macedonia, Thessaly, Achaea, Thrace, the Anatolian and Syrian provinces, Arabia, Mesopotamia, and Egypt. There has been debate about whether permission of the emperor or the governor was needed for a koinon or a city to mint bronze coins (RPC 1, 2–3, 18–19; Weiss 2005). Citations of such a grant of permission are early (mainly under Augustus and Tiberius), few, and generally issue from the West and from Roman colonies. A similar formula in the East was sometimes coupled with the name of the man who asked and received the favor, and like the names of those who “endowed” an issue, may have been included on coins as a way of glorifying or thanking him. In any case, permission to coin low-value bronze coins does not seem to have been hard to get, as we have seen that hundreds of cities and many provincial organizations ended up doing so. Necessity to obtain formal approval to coin in this fashion may have varied from province to province, and perhaps even governor to governor. After the Flavians, it seems to have been taken for granted, as it goes unmentioned. The pictorial representations on civic (and occasionally colonial or koinon) bronze coins, formerly called “Greek Imperial,” now part of the larger “Roman Provincial” group that includes western mints published in the ongoing series RPC, were strongly influenced by Roman coins. The portrait of the emperor and sometimes members of his family became the most common obverse image (though not omnipresent; Athens, for example, stuck with Athena), while reverses showed varied and increasingly elaborate images also adapted from Roman coinage, including scenes of imperial triumph or patronage, buildings of the issuing city, and local gods and heroes (Harl 1986; Butcher 1988). The cities of the East gloried in reverse images that emphasized their particular myths, gods, founders, temples, and rivers, along with the titles they had won and the festivals they celebrated. But the fact that from the later second century on, the dies used for several cities’ coins were cut by the same workshop made even those varied reverses slightly homogeneous in style; in Asia Minor, the coins from a single workshop also tended to circulate together, as if by some monetary union or agreement, though it could also have been through geographic propinquity (Johnston 2012, 458–460; Watson 2021; Evans 2018, 31–32). The values of civic bronze coins were presumably keyed to the precious metal coins, and in most cases their basic denomination was the assarion, the Greek interpretation of the Roman as, issued in multiples and a few fractions, varying from city to city; though just as values in denarii could be expressed in drachmae, so the use of Greek monetary terms like obol and chalkous continued for fractional coinage (Butcher 2004, 205–215). From the 240s onward, as silver coins were progressively debased and lightened, we see civic bronzes revalued by countermark and new mintings to rise in face value and/or shrink in size (Figure 4.5; Johnston 2012, 460–462). Bronze coinage by the central imperial government and by most

Figure 4.5  Bronze ten assaria (I) coin of Side in Pamphylia, 260–268 ce. Obverse: AVT KAI ΠO ΛI ΓAΛΛIHNOC CEB, I obliterated by countermark E revaluing it to five assaria; laureate armored bust of Gallienus on eagle right/Reverse: CIΔHTΩN NEΩKOΡΩN Athena of Side standing left holding palm branch in left, dropping voting pebble into urn. Courtesy of the American Numismatic Society, ANS 1944.100.50969, bequest of E.T. Newell.



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eastern cities came to an end after the sole reign of Gallienus (260–268), with a few holdout cities in Pisidia and Pamphylia minting until the 270s (Stroobants 2014); Alexandria in Egypt was the last, minting what were essentially bronze coins until 296 ce (Giessen 2012). There was no sense in issuing bronze “small change” for a radiate that was itself a small bronze coin, though nominally two denarii (Butcher 2016, 230–232). As mentioned, after 274, the same Roman imperial currency began to be produced at mints all across the empire. This accomplished what had been long put off by adherence to previous tradition: a uniform currency for what was left of the Roman Empire. It cannot be said that that was the explicit aim of the roughly three hundred years of decisions regarding coinage that this chapter has reviewed; but one can understand how it became the result.

Acknowledgments Thanks to Michael Braunlin, Jane DeRose Evans, Kristina Neumann, Holt Parker, and David Schwei for their help and input on these topics, and to Dr. Elena Stolyarik of the American Numismatic Society for her help with the illustrations. All errors are the author’s.

Biographical Note Barbara Burrell teaches at the University of Cincinnati, and has been numismatist for excavations at Sardis, Mt. Lykaion, and for her own at the Promontory Palace at Caesarea in Israel. She has been Keeper of Coins at Harvard Art Museums, Fellow of the ANS Summer Seminar, elected Fellow of the Royal Numismatic Society, and Senior Fellow for the Australian Centre for Ancient Numismatic Studies, and has researched ancient coins at collections throughout Europe, North America, and Australia.

Abbreviations CIL = Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum. 1823–. Edited by Deutsche Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin. Paris: A. Franck. IG = Inscriptiones Graecae. 1873–. Edited by Deutsche Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin., Preussische Akademie der Wissenschaften). Berlin: G. Reimer. OGIS = Orientis Graeci Inscriptiones Selectae. 1903–. Edited by Wilhelmus Dittenberger. Leipzig: S. Hirzel. RIC = The Roman Imperial Coinage. 1923–. Edited by Harold Mattingly, E.A. Sydenham et al., with revised editions. London: Spink. RPC = Roman Provincial Coinage. 1992–. Edited by Andrew M. Burnett, Michel Amandry, and Pere Pau Ripollès. London and Paris: British Museum Press, Bibliothèque Nationale de France.

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Amandry, Michel. 2014. “Monnayages civiques de Cilicie frappés sous Hadrien.” In First International Congress of the Anatolian Monetary History and Numismatics, 25–28 February 2013, Antalya – Proceedings, edited by Kayhan Dörtlük, Oğuz Tekin, and Remziye Boyraz Seyhan, 7–12. İstanbul: Suna & İnan Kıraç Research Institute on Mediterranean Civilizations. Ariel, Donald T. 2016. “Coins from a small country: How excavated coins are managed in Israel, from the dig to the bookshelf.” In Les monnaies de fouille du monde grec (VIe-Ier siècle a.C.): apports, approches et méthodes, edited by Frédérique Duyrat and Catherine Grandjean, 99–111. Pessac: Ausonius. Arslan, Melih. 2014. “Iuliopolis Nekropolü Kharon Sikkeleri.” In First International Congress of the Anatolian Monetary History and Numismatics, 25–28 February 2013, Antalya – Proceedings, edited by Kayhan Dörtlük, Oğuz Tekin, and Remziye Boyraz Seyhan, 13–24. İstanbul: Suna & İnan Kıraç Research Institute on Mediterranean Civilizations. Ashmolean Museum. 2019. “Coin Hoards of the Roman Empire Project.” Accessed 6 February. http://chre.ashmus.ox.ac.uk Beckmann, Martin. 2012. “Trajan and Hadrian.” In The Oxford Handbook of Greek and Roman Coinage, edited by William E. Metcalf, 405–422. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Bland, Roger 2012. “From Gordian III to the Gallic Empire.” In The Oxford Handbook of Greek and Roman Coinage, edited by William E. Metcalf, 514–537. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Burnett, Andrew. 2005. “The Roman West and the Roman East.” In Coinage and Identity in the Roman Provinces, edited by Christopher Howgego, Volker Heuchert, and Andrew Burnett, 171–180. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Burrell, Barbara. 2007. “A hoard of minimi from Sardis and the currency of the fifth century C.E.” Revue Numismatique, 163: 235–282. Butcher, Kevin. 1988. Roman Provincial Coins: An Introduction to the “Greek Imperials.” London: Seaby. Butcher, Kevin. 2004. Coinage in Roman Syria: Northern Syria, 64 BC–AD 253. London: Royal Numismatic Society. Butcher, Kevin. 2005. “Information, legitimation, or self-legitimation? Popular and elite designs on the coin types of Syria.” In Coinage and Identity in the Roman Provinces, edited by Christopher Howgego, Volker Heuchert, and Andrew Burnett, 143–156. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Butcher, Kevin. 2014. “Lycian drachms and the monetary system of the Roman Empire.” In First International Congress of the Anatolian Monetary History and Numismatics, 25–28 February 2013, Antalya – Proceedings, edited by Kayhan Dörtlük, Oğuz Tekin, and Remziye Boyraz Seyhan, 111– 116. İstanbul: Suna & İnan Kıraç Research Institute on Mediterranean Civilizations. Butcher, Kevin. 2016. “Coin finds and the monetary economy: The good, the bad, and the irrelevant.” In Les monnaies de fouille du monde grec (VIe-Ier siècle a.C.): apports, approches et méthodes, edited by Frédérique Duyrat and Catherine Grandjean, 225–237. Pessac: Ausonius. Butcher, Kevin, and Matthew Ponting. 1995. “Rome and the East. Production of Roman provincial silver coinage for Caesarea in Cappadocia under Vespasian, AD 69–79.” Oxford Journal of Archaeology, 14: 63–77. Butcher, Kevin, and Matthew Ponting. 2009. “The silver coinage of Roman Syria under the JulioClaudian emperors.” Levant, 41: 61–80. Butcher, Kevin, and Matthew Ponting. 2014. The Metallurgy of Roman Silver Coinage: From the Reform of Nero to the Reform of Trajan. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Carradice, Ian, and M. Cowell. 1987. “The minting of Roman Imperial bronze coins for circulation in the East: Vespasian to Trajan.” Numismatic Chronicle, 147: 26–50. Chameroy, Jérémie. 2014. “Frappes et trouvailles de monnaies civiques sous l’Empire romain: une confrontation.” In First International Congress of the Anatolian Monetary History and Numismatics, 25–28 February 2013, Antalya – Proceedings, edited by Kayhan Dörtlük, Oğuz Tekin, and Remziye Boyraz Seyhan, 157–169. İstanbul: Suna & İnan Kıraç Research Institute on Mediterranean Civilizations. Corcoran, Simon. 2000. The Empire of the Tetrarchs: Imperial Pronouncements and Government, AD 284–324, rev. ed. Oxford: Clarendon Press.



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Crawford, M. H. 1983. “Roman imperial coin types and the formation of public opinion.” In Studies in Numismatic Method Presented to Philip Grierson, edited by C. N. L. Brooke, B. H. I. H. Stewart, J. G. Pollard, and T. R. Volk, 47–64. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. de Callataÿ, François. 2016. “De quoi les monnaies grecques trouvees en fouilles sont-elles le reflet? Propos diachroniques de methode.” In Les monnaies de fouille du monde grec (VIe-Ier siècle a.C.): apports, approches et méthodes, edited by Frederique Duyrat and Catherine Grandjean, 239–261. Pessac: Ausonius. Duncan-Jones, Richard. 1994. Money and Government in the Roman Empire. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Estiot, Sylviane. 2012. “The later third century.” In The Oxford Handbook of Greek and Roman Coinage, edited by William E. Metcalf, 538–560. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Evans, Jane DeRose. 2013. “Coins and the archaeology of the Roman Republic.” In A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Republic, edited by Jane DeRose Evans, 110–122. Chichester: Wiley Blackwell. Evans, Jane  DeRose. 2018. Coins from the Excavations at Sardis: Their Archaeological and Economic Contexts. Coins from the 1973 to 2013 Excavations. Archaeological Exploration of Sardis Monograph 13. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Flannery, Kent V. 1973. “Archaeology with a capital ‘S’.” In Research and Theory in Current Archaeology, edited by Charles L. Redman, 47–58. New York: Wiley. Giessen, Angelo. 2012. “The coinage of Roman Egypt.” In The Oxford Handbook of Greek and Roman Coinage, edited by William E. Metcalf, 561–583. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Harl, Kenneth W. 1986. Civic Coins and Civic Politics in the Roman East, A.D. 180–275. Berkeley: University of California Press. Harl, Kenneth W. 1996. Coinage in the Roman Economy, 300 B.C. to A.D. 700. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. Heuchert, Volker. 2005. “The chronological development of Roman provincial coin iconography.” In Coinage and Identity in the Roman Provinces, edited by Christopher Howgego, Volker Heuchert, and Andrew Burnett, 29–56. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Hopkins, Keith. 2002. “Rome, taxes, rents and trade.” In The Ancient Economy, edited by Walter Scheidel and Sitta von Reden, 190–230. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Howgego, Christopher. 1992. “The supply and use of money in the Roman world, 200 B.C. to A.D. 300.” Journal of Roman Studies, 82: 1–31. Howgego, Christopher. 1994. “Coin circulation and the integration of the Roman economy.” Journal of Roman Archaeology, 7: 5–21. Howgego, Christopher. 2014. “Questions of coin circulation in the Roman period.” In First International Congress of the Anatolian Monetary History and Numismatics, 25–28 February 2013, Antalya – Proceedings, edited by Kayhan Dörtlük, Oğuz Tekin, and Remziye Boyraz Seyhan, 307– 317. İstanbul: Suna & İnan Kıraç Research Institute on Mediterranean Civilizations. Johnston, Ann. 2012. “The provinces after Commodus.” In The Oxford Handbook of Greek and Roman Coinage, edited by William E. Metcalf, 453–467. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Jones, Tom B. 1963. “A numismatic riddle: The so-called Greek imperials.” Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society, 107: 308–347. Katsari, Constantina. 2011. The Roman Monetary System: The Eastern Provinces from the First to the Third Century AD. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lempereur, Olivier, and Maryse Blei-Lemarquand. 2017. “Les frappes de deniers impériaux à Alexandrie à la fin du IIe. siècle ap. J.-C.: premiers résultats d’analyses.” In XV International Numismatic Congress, Taormina, 2015: Proceedings. Vol. 2, edited by Maria Caccamo Caltabiano, 762–766. Rome: Arbor Sapientiae. Levick, Barbara. 1982. “Propaganda and the imperial coinage.” Antichthon, 16: 104–116. Lo Cascio, Elio. 2008. “The function of gold coinage in the monetary economy of the Roman Empire.” In The Monetary Systems of the Greeks and Romans, edited by W. V. Harris, 160–173. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Lockyear, Kris. 1999. “Hoard structure and coin production in antiquity: An empirical investigation.” Numismatic Chronicle, 159: 215–243.

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Lockyear, Kris. 2012. “Dating coins, dating with coins.” Oxford Journal of Archaeology, 31: 191–211. Lönnqvist, Kenneth. 2008. “The tax law of Palmyra and the introduction of the Roman monetary system to Syria – A re-evaluation.” In Jebel Bishri in Context: Introduction to the Archaeological Studies and the Neighbourhood of Jebel Bishri in Central Syria, edited by Minna Lönnqvist, British Archaeological Reports International Series 1817, 73–88. Oxford: Archaeopress. Macro, A.D. 1976. “Imperial provisions for Pergamum: OGIS 484.” Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies, 17, no. 2: 169–179. Metcalf, William E. 1980. The Cistophori of Hadrian. American Numismatic Society Numismatic Studies 15. New York: American Numismatic Society. Metcalf, William E. 1988. “The Severan ‘cistophori’.” Rivista italiana di numismatica e scienze affini, 90: 155–166. Millar, Fergus. 1977. The Emperor in the Roman World (31 BC–AD 337). Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Mitthof, Fritz. 2014. “Reichs- und Lokalwährung im römischen Kleinasien: Das Zeugnis der Inschriften.” In Der Beitrag Kleinasiens zur Kultur- und Geistesgeschichte der Griechisch-Römischen Antike: Akten des internationalen Kolloquiums, Wien, 3.–5. November 2010, edited by Josef Fischer and Elisabeth Trinkl, 295–300. Vienna: Verlag der österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Neumann, Kristina, and John Wallrodt. 2017. “The third side of the coin.” Digital Classics Online, 3, no. 3: 37–60. Neumann, Kristina Marie. 2015. Mapping the Transformation of Roman Antioch: The Coin Evidence. (PhD dissertation, University of Cincinnati). Ponting, Matthew J. 2012. “The substance of coinage: The role of scientific analysis in ancient numismatics.” In The Oxford Handbook of Greek and Roman Coinage, edited by William E. Metcalf, 12–30. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Ripollès, Pere P. 2012. “The ancient coinages of the Iberian Peninsula.” In The Oxford Handbook of Greek and Roman Coinage, edited by William E. Metcalf, 356–374. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Schwei, David. 2016. The Empire Strikes: The Growth of Roman Infrastructural Minting Power, 60 B.C. – A.D. 68. (PhD dissertation, University of Cincinnati). Schwei, David. 2017. “Exchange rates, Neronian silver standards, and a long-term plan to unify the Empire’s mints.” Numismatic Chronicle, 177: 107–134. Stroobants, Fran. 2014. “The production of civic coins in third-century Pisidia and Pamphylia: Mapping regional trends and urban deviations.” In First International Congress of the Anatolian Monetary History and Numismatics, 25–28 February 2013, Antalya – Proceedings, edited by Kayhan Dörtlük, Oğuz Tekin, and Remziye Boyraz Seyhan, 541–558. İstanbul: Suna & İnan Kıraç Research Institute on Mediterranean Civilizations. Watson, George Christopher. 2021. “The development and spread of die sharing in the Roman provincial coinage of Asia Minor.” American Journal of Archaeology, 125: 123–142. Weiss, Peter. 2005. “The cities and their money.” In Coinage and Identity in the Roman Provinces, edited by Christopher Howgego, Volker Heuchert, and Andrew Burnett, 57–68. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Wolters, Reinhard. 2006. “Geldverkehr, Geldtransporte und Geldbuchungen in römischer Republik und Kaiserzeit. Das Zeugnis der schriftlichen Quellen.” Revue belge de numismatique et de sigillog­ raphie, 152: 23–49. Yarrow, Liv Mariah. 2012. “Antonine coinage.” In The Oxford Handbook of Greek and Roman Coinage, edited by William E. Metcalf, 423–452. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Zając, Barbara. 2017. “Circulation of Trajan’s silver Greek imperial coins struck in Lycia and Cappadocia in the light of coin finds in Europe.” In XV International Numismatic Congress, Taormina, 2015: Proceedings. Vol. 2, edited by Maria Caccamo Caltabiano, 967–970. Rome: Arbor Sapientiae.

CHAPTER 5

Pottery and Foodways Nicholas F. Hudson

What is Roman pottery? Or first, what is pottery? When talking about pottery, specialists generally limit the discussion to vessels (bowls, plates, pitchers, cooking pots, etc.) made of clay and fired in a kiln. Objects such as lamps and roof tiles, which are made from the same basic building blocks as pottery, are not included and are typically treated separately. In this chapter, the pottery under discussion will be the mass produced products of large manufacturing centers whose products were widely distributed across the Roman Empire (Figure 5.1). What do we mean by pottery that is Roman? Is it pottery produced in Rome? Or pottery produced around the Roman Empire that traces its tradition (stylistic, functional, or otherwise) back to Rome? Or do we simply mean pottery produced by people who were under imperial Roman control? The answer to all of these is “No.” The reality is subtler than these questions would suggest, and the scholarly approach does not always correspond with the ancient perception. Roman pottery studies have traditionally been concerned with only two vessel categories: (1) the fine red-slipped table wares called sigillata and (2) transport amphorae involved in the empire-wide distribution of oil, wine, and, to a lesser extent, the fish sauce garum. Combined, these two categories represent only a small percentage of the overall ceramic production and usage during the Roman period, which included cooking and kitchen vessels, household storage jars, and a wide variety of multipurpose utilitarian vessels. Still, fine wares and transport amphorae provide a useful framework with which to study the development of ceramic traditions across the empire. Less tenable is the implicit assumption that the two classes of pottery represent a material means by which to gauge a less tangible sense of Romanization wherever they are found, that they are harbingers of Roman culture and practices, and measure a degree of Roman-ness as markers of Roman culture. These last sentiments represent a traditionalist approach to Roman pottery that was common through much of the twentieth century. More recent work in the field has moved away from such direct cultural correlations, seeking instead to understand Roman pottery as part of cultural contexts rather than as cultural markers. Still, the most common approach to the study of Roman pottery, especially the early Roman sigillatas of the first century bce

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container/ product relevant dates & events escorting pottery

Dressel 2-4 Wine Export to Gaul ends later 1st c. AD ITS

Gauloise 4 Wine

Africana 1 Olive oil

Egyptian Grain

N African Grain

Import to Italy begins ca. 50 AD

Dominant oil amphora in Italy from ca. AD 150

Important grain source for Rome after mid-1st c. BC

Important grain source for Rome since 3rd c BC

South Gaulish TS

LRCW (ARS)

ESA ESB

ARS

4 2

3 Fine Wares & initial production dates

1

5

Figure 5.1  Map of major fineware production centers with associated agricultural production and distribution patterns. Figure by Nicholas F. Hudson.

through the second century ce, is to study them under one of two lenses: as evidence of production, technology, and typology, or as part of the distributive nature of the Roman economy and culture. Both vantage points, however, mute the functional role of Roman table vessels, i.e., that they were produced and used to eat meals. They remove the emic classifications of the objects and impose an etic organization and meaning. In other words, the types, terms, and classifications of Roman pottery that have been created to facilitate its study do not reflect the cultural norms and values of the people who once used the pottery. This is relevant in that it demonstrates the ease with which the study of ancient pottery is commonly sterilized of the cultural residue of the people associated with it. The typological approach especially is a hallmark of ceramic studies in general and remains one of the reasons why nonspecialists in pottery remain largely aloof from discussion of Roman pottery. The multiplicity of typologies, even for a single class of pottery, is daunting and confusing to the uninitiated, and often accidentally serves to push archaeologists away from conversations and publications about pottery. In recent years, the discipline has seen an increased interest in studying Roman pottery in its physical and cultural context (Peña 2007; Leitch 2010; Hudson 2010). Such works would not be possible, however, were it not for the rigorous typological studies that form the backbone of ceramic research, such as Hayes (1972 and 1985) and Ettlinger, Hedinger, and Hoffmann (1990) for fine wares, and Peacock and Williams (1986) for amphorae. What happens if we frame the discussion and contextualization of Roman pottery within the broader topic of food, which is ultimately what most pottery was used for, either directly or indirectly? By adopting a broader interest in the anthropology of food, where “foodways” are the means by which food ends up on the plate, beginning with its acquisition, transportation, storage, preparation, cooking, serving, and finally consumption, Roman pottery can be understood in more dynamic terms. Doing so offers a more contextualized lens through which we



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can understand pottery beyond narrower typological and technological concerns. By drawing attention to the relationships between food and pottery, we can hope to understand some of the larger cultural phenomena that can be associated with different classes of pottery during the Roman period. One such phenomenon to be addressed in this chapter will be the more widespread distribution of some ceramic production traditions over others. (“Production tradition” is used hereafter to refer to classes of pottery that were produced at a specific location or region. While the word “ware” is sometimes used for the same thing, that term is frequently misused and a source of confusion for nonspecialists, leading to my use of a more descriptive term.) What relationships exist, if any, between food and the success of a production tradition, as measured by the density of ceramic finds within a distribution range? By looking at ceramic production, distribution, and consumption as part of Roman foodways, pottery becomes less of a hapless wayfarer in the Roman economy, a schlepped commodity packed desperately into the available nooks and crannies found amidst primary cargos. As such, attempts to understand the role of pottery as parts of the Roman economic machine have generally seemed ill-equipped to describe why low value commodities like table and cooking vessels were shipped across the empire (Fulford 1987 provides a useful exception). Placing Roman ceramic traditions within the framework of Roman foodways shifts the focus away from the economic machine, into which they fit poorly, to see pottery as part of the agricultural industrial complex that was fostered (but not always strictly controlled) by the empire. While there are very few ancient sources that single out pots as culturally charged foodrelated objects (how often do we reference such mundane things as essential elements of our self-identity?), a passing comment in a letter from Cicero, as governor of Cilicia, to his close friend Atticus provides an excellent example of this type of awareness, as well as the lack of precision inherent in our term “Roman pottery.” Atticus had requested a set of ceramic table vessels, and Cicero replied (Letters to Atticus 6.1.13): “I have ordered the Rhosian ware for you – but see here, what are you up to? You give me bits of cabbage for dinner on fern-pattern platters and in magnificent baskets. What can I expect you to serve up on earthenware?” Malfitana, Poblome, and Lund (2005) have, rather convincingly, suggested that the Rhosian ware ordered by Cicero should be identified as what we call Eastern Sigillata A (or ESA), fine table vessels from the eastern Mediterranean, characterized by their fine, glossy red slip, and progenitor of the red Italian sigillata tradition that would define Roman fine table vessels for nearly three hundred years. Also interesting is the hierarchic differentiation Cicero made between metal (presumably silver, given Atticus’s wealth and status) and ceramic vessels (vasa fictilia), joking that Atticus served him “bits of cabbage,” insubstantial and insufficient portions of food, even on proper (from Cicero’s very Roman perspective) table silver, so that he could only imagine the degraded quality of food Atticus would serve on ceramic vessels. Cicero’s tone implies that he is teasing Atticus for his experimental or fashionable culinary and service tastes. The question, “What are you up to?” (quid cogitas), however, need not be rhetorical, but seems to express genuine confusion at Atticus’s request, implying that in 50 bce, when the letter was written, the standard table setting for a Roman of Atticus’s status was not ceramic. Atticus was famous for his love for and familiarity with Athens and Greek culture (Cornelius Nepos, Life of Atticus 3–4), and the sparse leafy meal that Cicero teases him about likely refers to the Athenian culinary simplicity that Atticus had adopted. Cicero’s distrust of non-Roman practices, including foreign merchandise and foods, is a theme found elsewhere in his work (On the Republic 2.7–9). He couches the question of Rhosian ware in similarly foreign and corruptive terms, which is particularly amusing from the perspective of modern ceramic studies, which holds sigillata as the hallmark of the Roman ceramic tradition. We can assume from Cicero’s incredulity at Atticus’s request that Rhosian ware was not that familiar to Roman consumers at the time of the letter. This is important because Atticus’s

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request for the novelty was made around a decade before the red sigillata tradition was adopted by Italian producers of fine table wares at Arretium around 40 bce (Hayes 1997, 41). If Rhosian ware is ESA, we can see Atticus as a Greek-“corrupted” Roman who was on the forefront of dining fashion with his order for the glossy red table setting. Cicero inadvertently provides us a glimpse of a Roman’s perception of a Greek phenomenon (glossy red-slip table vessels), which, ironically, will become a defining feature of what we think of as definitively Roman fine wares. So, what do we mean by Roman pottery? In the end, there is no clear-cut answer, since modern studies approach the question in different ways. Some address pottery as either a cultural or ethnic marker of Roman identity or activity; more often, “Roman pottery” ends up being simply chronological, representing any pottery from contexts that date to Roman imperial rule. Behind the term, either implicitly or explicitly, is the cultural-political marker “Roman,” perhaps giving undue weight to the pottery as evidence of political affiliation and/ or acculturation. This chapter will approach the topic from a different perspective, looking at the distribution patterns of major ceramic workshops in the Roman Empire as they related to food supplies. There are two reasons for this: pottery that was widely distributed in the Roman world (fine wares, cooking vessels, and amphorae) was all connected to food in some way; and the transport of the staples of the Roman diet (“Roman” as in the city of Rome: grain, olive oil, and wine) can all be connected to the distribution of different classes of pottery. The bulk of pottery from Roman sites is utilitarian, most commonly used for food production, storage, and transport. While providing a complete overview of the sigillata, amphorae, and cooking vessels found throughout the Roman Empire is beyond the scope of this chapter, a brief review of a few of the more common and widely distributed production centers will illustrate the larger trends of production and distribution.

Fine Wares Roman fine wares, especially the early Roman sigillatas, have long served as the workhorse of datable artifacts. Our ability to provide tight date ranges for individual forms (especially of the first century ce) is the result of long, careful analysis that began in the late nineteenth century. The term terra sigillata is a modern catch-all used to refer to fine, red-gloss table vessels produced in the early empire, though it originally referred to stamped medicinal cakes made of fine earth from the island of Lemnos (Hayes 2008, 4). The principal characteristics of sigillata pottery are red, glossy surface; a high level of standardization within each production tradition; relief decoration for some but not all forms, especially in the western traditions; and stamped maker’s marks on the floor of the vessels, again mainly in the western traditions. Such stamps are commonly called in planta pedis (“in the sole of a foot”) because they are frequently in the form of a shod footprint with the name of the potter within. These marks have been instrumental in allowing us to understand production practices, histories, and distribution patterns of individual workshops. The most characteristic quality of sigillata is its immediately recognizable red, glossy surface. This distinctive gloss was achieved by mixing the same clay as the body material in water and allowing the larger particles to settle out, leaving only the finest illitite and/or kaolinite crystals (on the active petrographic properties of sigillata slips, see Kolb 1983). This suspension became a very fine slip in which vessels would be dipped once they had been allowed to dry sufficiently. Because the illitite and/or kaolinite crystals have a natural tendency to align, they reflect light, giving a shiny or glossy look that could be amplified by rubbing the slipped



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surface with a smooth cloth. Very little pressure needed to be applied, and the highly polished effect could be achieved rapidly and efficiently. The distinctive red color, ranging from yellowish orange to a deep brownish red, depending on the production center, was achieved by carefully controlling conditions in the kiln to produce a rich oxidizing atmosphere; oxygen reacted with the iron present in the clay and slip, resulting in the red color. The following section provides brief overviews of the major production and export centers for terra sigillata. These will appear in chronological order, from the first of the tradition, Eastern Sigillata A, through the latest and most enduring, African Red Slip. Though geographical arrangement is more usual, chronological presentation will show the development of different trends of distribution better.

Southeastern Mediterranean: Eastern Sigillata A Eastern Sigillata A (ESA, Figure 5.2, 1–16) is the earliest of the sigillatas, breaking away from the black slip (often called black glaze) Greek tradition around 150 bce. This was by far the most widely and consistently distributed fine ware of the late Hellenistic and early Roman traditions. While particularly widespread in the eastern Mediterranean, it also had a notable distribution in the west (Malfitana, Poblome, and Lund 2005). While the exact locations of its production remain unknown, petrographic and chemical analysis has narrowed down the geographic region to the northwestern Levant and southern Anatolia (Slane 1997, 272). A Levantine or Anatolian origin for ESA and the red slip tradition, possibly Rhosos in Cilicia as discussed earlier, is fitting for a region with a long tradition of red table wares. ESA was produced from around 150 bce through the second century ce. Its production is traditionally broken into three series: late Hellenistic (ca. 150–40 bce, Figure 5.2, 1–4), early Roman (ca. 40 bce–100 ce, Figure 5.2, 4–11), and middle Roman (ca. 100–mid-second century ce, Figure 5.2, 12–15). A fourth, late, series, dating to the Antonine period, represents limited production and distribution at the end of the ESA run. These categories follow the standard ESA typology, as constructed by Hayes (1985), usually referred to as Atlante, an abbreviation of the title of the publication. Though ESA was well distributed in the eastern Mediterranean through the late second and first century bce, it didn’t reach its widest and most consistent distribution until the Augustan period and early first century ce. This shows the connection between large-scale ceramic distribution and state-sponsored supply routes during the Roman period, as will be discussed below.

Italy: Italian Terra Sigillata The Italian terra sigillata (ITS) tradition is by far the most familiar and dominant class of sigillatas in the Mediterranean basin (Figure 5.3). The largest and earliest production was at Arezzo (ancient Arretium), so early studies of western sigillata commonly lumped all redglossed pottery under the rubric “Arretine.” While substantial and important production centers emerged at Pisa and Puteoli, only the Arretine productions are addressed here (for more, see Hayes 1997, 41–53). Production in Arezzo began around 40 bce, approximately one hundred years after the red-gloss tradition began in the East with ESA and about ten years after Atticus asked Cicero for a set of Rhosian table vessels. The forms produced at Arezzo were distinctly different from both the Hellenistic forms of ESA in the East and those of the older black slip Campanian tradition prevalent in the Italian peninsula until the mid-first century bce. The Arretine corpus is dominated by broad, flat plates with angular walls, and small carinated bowls (Figure 5.3, 1–11). Molded decoration and appliqué were also common and could be present on nearly all types to some degree.

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1

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4 ESA: Common Hellenistic forms, ca. 150-40 BC

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ESA: Common Middle Roman forms, ca. AD 100-mid-second century

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Figure 5.2  Eastern Sigillatas. Nos. 1–4: Eastern Sigillata A (ESA) Hellenistic series, Atlante forms: 1. Form 6, late 2nd c.-ca. 50 bce. 2. Form 3, late 2nd-late 1st c. bce. 3. Form 22, late 2nd c. bce-ca. 10 ce. 4. Form 4, end 2nd c. bce-10/20 ce. Nos. 5–11: ESA Early Roman series, Atlante forms: 5. Form 37, ca. 60–100 ce. 6. Form 30, ca. 10–50 ce. 7. Form 29, ca. 30 bce-20/25 ce. 8. Form 48, ca. 40–70 ce. 9. Form 42, ca. 10 bce-20/30 ce. 10. Form 50, ca. 60/70–100 ce. 11. Form 51, ca. 70-120 ce. Nos. 12–15: ESA Middle Roman series, Atlante forms: 12. Form 57, first half 2nd c. ce. 13. Form 54, ca. 75/80–130/150 ce. 14. Form 58, first half 2nd c. ce. 15. Form 56, second half 2nd c. ce. Nos. 16–20: Eastern Sigillata B1, Atlante forms: 16. Form 5. 17. Form 7. 18. Form 23. 19. Form 26. 20. Form 29. Drawings by Nicholas F. Hudson from Hayes 1985.



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ITS: Common Augustan forms

South Gaulish Sigillata: Common forms second half 1st century

ARS: Common forms second half 2nd century

Figure 5.3  Western Sigillatas. Nos. 1–11: Early Italian Terra Sigillata (ITS) with dates that overlap with Augustan Period, Conspectus forms and dates: 1. Form 1, ca. 40–15 bce. 2. Form 4, ca. 40 bce-20 ce. 3. Form 6, late Augustan-Tiberian. 4. Form 18, ca. 10 bce-20 ce. 5. Form 11, mid-Augustan. 6. Form 7, mid-late Augustan. 7. Form 13, mid-Augustan. 8. Form 9, mid-Augustan to early Tiberian. 9. Form 22, ca. 15 bce-30 ce. 10. Form 14, mid- to late Augustan. 11. Form 26, ca. 1–50 ce. ITS drawings from Ettlinger et al. 1990. Nos. 12–17: Common forms of South Gaulish Sigillata produced at La Graufesenque in the second half of the 1st c. ce: 12. Dragendorff 15/17, ca. 40-80 ce. 13. Dragendorff 27, ca. 40–80 ce. 14. Dragendorff 24/25, ca. 50–100 ce. 15. Ritterling 9a, ca. 55–75 ce. 16. Dragendorff 29b, ca. 50–75 ce. 17. Dragendorff 37, ca. 80-100 bce. Drawings from Long and Picard 2010. Nos. 18–24: Common African Red Slip (ARS) forms from the second half of the 2nd c. nd ce: 18. Hayes 27, ca. 160–220 ce. 19. Hayes 16, ca. 150–200+ ce. 20. Hayes 9B, second half 2 c. nd nd nd 21. Hayes 6B, mid to end 2 c. 22. Hayes 14, mid-2 c. 23. Hayes 8B, second half 2 c. 24. Hayes 10B, 2nd c. Drawings by Nicholas F. Hudson from Hayes 1972.

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These decorative elements and angular forms are generally interpreted as imitation of metal vessels, in particular silver sets, like the table setting from the Boscoreale Treasure. The impetus for a northern Italian workshop suddenly producing red-gloss table vessels imitating more expensive silver sets, and their massive spread throughout the Italian peninsula in the mid-first century bce, has not been the subject of much study, but it may be that the new tradition was a reaction against a series of Roman austerity laws that restricted the amount of money one could spend on dinner parties. Senators and patrons would give elaborate, expensive dinner parties to bolster their client base and strengthen their influence and political power, so these sumptuary laws (leges sumptuariae), meant to hamstring potential political upstarts, were sometimes referred to as food laws, leges cibariae (Macrobius, Saturnalia 3.17.13; see D’Arms 1999). Cheap ceramic imitations of silver could evade the laws, however. In the meantime, the food served at these meals grew more varied and complex during the second half of the first century bce, and so did the corpus of ITS forms. It is not impossible that the ITS tradition was designed to facilitate the changing food habits of the late Republic and early empire.

Asia Minor: Eastern Sigillata B (ESB) Eastern Sigillata B (ESB) was produced in western Asia Minor, probably in the area of Tralles (Caesarea) in the Maeander Valley, with Ephesos as its primary port of distribution. While early versions imitating ESA shapes have been found in pre-69 bce contexts on Delos, the canonical mass-produced ESB did not appear until around 20 bce (Hayes 2008, 31 n. 5), just when ITS arrived in the Aegean. Indeed, ESB of the later first century bce (Figure 5.2, 16– 20) imitated ITS forms (compare Figure 5.3, 1–11) and some potters’ stamps appear on both ITS and ESB, though Hayes (2008, 31 n. 8) rightfully points out that the eastern potters could have been copying Arretine forms down to the makers’ stamps in planta pedis. So ESB production could have been derivative from the distant sigillata workshops of Arezzo. ESB is separated into two related groups, ESB1 and ESB2. The distinction reflects not just a visual difference (the surface of ESB1 is hard and lustrous whereas ESB2 is soft and glitters in sunlight due to high levels of gold mica) but a chronological one: ESB1 appears around 20 bce, whereas ESB2 did not appear until around 50 ce. There is also a difference in forms produced: ESB1 imitated ITS forms with angular walls and tooled rims, while ESB2 forms are simpler bowls and broad dishes. Nonetheless, ESB1 had a narrow, primarily Aegean, market, while ESB2 enjoyed a wider and more pervasive distribution, reaching the western territories, and found in proportions approaching 40–50% of all fine wares in southern Italy and the northern Adriatic in late first- to mid-second century ce contexts (Hayes 2008, 36, n. 34). The means by which ESB2 entered the western market was likely connected to the import of Aegean wine, as the period that ESB2 was common in southern Italy and the northern Adriatic was also when Aegean amphora imports (likely for wine) made up approximately 65% of amphorae at Brindisi and S. Foca in southern Italy, and approximately 25% of amphorae at Trieste in the northern Adriatic (Auriemma and Quiri 2004).

Southern Gaul: Graufesenque The fine table vessels produced at the workshops of Graufesenque, located in southern France near the town of Millau, are the most widely distributed sigillatas of a broad production tradition in southern Gaul commonly referred to as South Gaulish terra sigillatas (Figure 5.3, 12–17). Production at Graufesenque began in the late first century bce and reached its peak of output and distribution in the third quarter of the first century ce (Ettlinger, Hedinger, and Hoffmann 1990, 19). At that peak, the ware appeared throughout the Mediterranean



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basin, though significantly more in the west (Lewit 2013). The quality of Graufesenque products was comparable to Arretine, which it imitated during its early runs (Ettlinger, Hedinger, and Hoffmann 1990, 25): a maker’s stamp used for both Arretine and Graufesenque productions indicates that the two workshops were connected (Poblome, Brulet, and Bounegru 2000, 281). This widespread a distribution seems at odds with the location of the Graufesenque workshops, well inland from the Mediterranean coast and away from major commercial arteries of Southern Gaul. The appearance of Graufesenque wares in the northern territories (e.g., northern France, Belgium, and southern England) has commonly been attributed to military supply lines, according to models of the ancient economy linking the Roman military machine to the distribution of essential foods, along with nonessential commercial items like pottery (Lewit 2013). The strong presence of the South Gaulish ware in the Mediterranean core during the early empire, however, runs in the opposite direction. Recent work has suggested that the southern distribution of Graufesenque sigillata should be related, not to military supply routes, but to agricultural and mineral distribution networks that connected the region around Graufesenque directly to Rome and the Italian peninsula (Lewit 2013).

North Africa: African Red Slip A new contributor to the Roman fine ware tradition, African Red Slip (ARS), began in the region of Carthage in the last quarter of the first century ce (Hayes 2008; Figure 5.3, 18– 24). Its early shapes and forms were reminiscent of Italian and Gaulish sigillata, but the North African ware differed in technique. Where sigillatas are distinguished by careful preparation of the clay from which they are made and deliberate application of a thick slip that rests on the surface of the clay body, the Carthaginian productions made use of a coarser, less processed clay, and their slip, though carefully applied and burnished, tends to bond with the clay body rather than rest on it as a distinct surface cover. For these reasons, in part, the Carthaginian pottery that was part of this tradition is called African Red Slip rather than African sigillata. Although some Italian and French archaeologists refer to ARS as terra sigillata chiara or sigillée africaine claire, the nomenclature shift serves to highlight a difference between the fine wares: sigillatas mark the early Roman period, and red slips mark the late Roman period. Though ARS first appears in the early Roman period, the ware reached its greatest success in the fourth and fifth centuries, when it was distributed throughout the empire and greatly influenced new production traditions in the East, such as Phocaean Red Slip, Cypriot Red Slip, and Egyptian Red Slip (Hayes 1972). ARS was never the product of a single workshop, but represents a broader collaboration located roughly within the confines of modern Tunisia, and its success is attested by its longevity. Having first appeared around 75 ce, it continued to be produced, with minor variations, well into the seventh century. Ware variations are chronologically marked and fall into three groups, based on fabric, surface treatment, and forms: ARS A, C, and D (the B group has been identified as a South Gaul production imitating ARS) (Hayes 1997, 59). The first series, A, began around 75 ce in the area of Carthage, and most closely followed the sigillata tradition in that vessels tended to be fully slipped and lightly burnished. The C series, in contrast, was produced in central Tunisia, appeared around 200 ce, and consisted of larger broad dishes instead of the typical small Early Roman sigillata forms, possibly influenced by trends that emerged in the later series of ESB. Series D began in the early fourth century and can be thought of as a late development of series A, but followed and expanded on the trend of larger dishes begun by series C, with dishes that have capacities significantly larger than their earlier series A counterparts. The increasing size and capacity of ARS and other late Roman red-slip vessels may relate to changing dining patterns that began in the fourth century (Hudson 2010).

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Cooking Wares The most common model for cooking vessels in the Roman world was local production with limited distribution. In general, cooking vessels followed the trends and needs of regional culinary traditions, and their low value was due in part to their lower production quality, with no aspiration to an aesthetic ideal. Nonetheless, though fine table wares dominate discussions of long-distance trade, some cooking wares were also widely distributed through the Roman world. During the early Roman period, broad flat cooking dishes commonly called Pompeiian Red Ware (Figure 5.4, 1) and African Cook Ware (Figure 5.4, 2) spread throughout the Mediterranean, though at different times. That something as mundane and low value as cooking vessels should be shipped across great distances is significant, and needs to be placed in the context of larger distribution networks and food trends of the first few centuries ce. Pompeian Red Ware, named for its interior slip’s deep-red color, reminiscent of Pompeian wall paintings, is a class of large, broad, flat-bottomed cooking dishes, including several distinct but similar wares made in similar ways. Production may well have been within the Bay of Naples area, though the name “Pompeian” is unrelated to its place of origin (Hayes 2008, 119). The smooth, polished interior surface of these vessels creates a relatively “nonstick” cooking surface, leading to the hypothesis that such dishes were designed to cook flat breads (Berlin 1997, 39). Loosely dated from the late first century bce to around 100 ce, Pompeian Red Ware was distributed throughout the empire, though it is most common in the West. Its widespread distribution has occasionally been cited as evidence for the adoption and spread of Roman culinary culture (e.g., Berlin 1997; Hayes 2008, 120).

African Cook Ware The term African Cook Ware (ACW) refers to a production tradition of high-quality cooking vessels, widely distributed throughout much of the western and southern empire from the second through fourth centuries ce. ACW was made by a broad, loosely related group of workshops scattered through what is today Tunisia, largely corresponding with the production area of ARS. Indeed, John Hayes included ACW in his typology of ARS (1972, forms 19–23 and 181–200). By far its most common (popular?) shape is Hayes’s form 181, which seems to be a direct copy of the flat-bottomed Pompeian Red Ware dish, down to its burnished red-slipped interior. By the mid-first century, ACW versions of the flat-bottomed dish had entered the Italian market and were competing directly with Pompeian Red Ware, though it was not until the second century, around the same time that ARS arrived in Italy, that ACW made significant headway outside North Africa (Leitch 2011). During the later first through fourth century, there was a high level of standardization among some forms of ACW, but not all (Leitch 2010, 2011). The standardized forms are characterized

0 1

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5 cm

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Figure 5.4  Roman baking dishes. 1. Pompeian Red Ware, 2nd c. ce, from Hayes 2008, no. 1821. 2. African Cook Ware, ARS Hayes form 181, ca. 150–250, from Hayes 1972, fig. 35.2. Drawings by Nicholas F. Hudson.



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by their lack of handles, symmetry, and overall stackability, features that made them practical for shipping. These forms were indeed distributed along inter-regional networks, reaching not only all of North Africa but also the Iberian Peninsula, Gaul, Italy, and Greece (Leitch 2010, fig. 7). Just as significant as the standardization of exported ACW is the lack of standardization among the forms that were not exported, including many that appear to have been produced exclusively for local/regional consumption (Leitch 2011, 174). Thus the component of ACW that was expressly for export to a broader market may represent a culinary tradition common to the western Mediterranean, or perhaps a group of forms that were generic enough in functional possibilities to accommodate a variety of culinary traditions, while the ACW forms that were not exported may represent a culinary tradition particular to North Africa. Unusually, a significant number of kiln sites in Africa Proconsularis have been systematically catalogued, resulting in a relatively sophisticated understanding of the region’s production history. Thanks to this, we are better able to characterize the relationships between the productions of ACW, ARS, and North African amphorae. As Victoria Leitch (2010, 16; 2011, 174) elegantly demonstrated, the production of ACW frequently occurred alongside the production of ARS, amphorae, or occasionally both. Joint production of ACW and amphorae was most common, suggesting, as Leitch pointed out, that the distribution of ACW should be connected to the distribution of wine or olive oil. These connections will be more fully explored below.

Amphorae Presenting an overview for Roman amphorae (Figure 5.5) is even more difficult than for Roman fine wares. The reason is that there were far more production centers of amphorae that had inter-regional distribution than there were of fine wares, or cooking wares, for that matter; and the reason for that is the functional nature of amphorae as long-distance transport vessels for liquids (olive oil, wine, and fish sauce) or liquid-packed foods (e.g., olives). Another aspect of amphora studies that makes a succinct overview difficult is the array of classification systems that have been developed for them. For example, one of the most common types of early Roman amphorae in the western Mediterranean can be referred to as Koan type, Camulodunum 182 or 183, Callender 2, Benghazi ER amphora 4, Ostia 51, or Dressel 2–4. The last designation is perhaps the most commonly cited, due to the seminal nature of the typology of Dressel (1899). A subsequent work by Peacock and Williams (1986) provides a more accessible and easily available introduction to common Roman amphorae by synthesizing the many different classifications. It is a good place to start for those first entering the world of Roman amphorae, or for occasional visitors. Production of amphorae should be considered within the context of agriculture. As containers for agricultural products, principally wine and olive oil, it is reasonable to assume that amphorae would be made near where these were manufactured on a large scale. Increasingly, archaeological evidence from North Africa is demonstrating the validity of this assumption. with a large number of amphora kiln sites identified in association with specific agricultural industries (Leitch 2011). An Egyptian papyrus dating to the third century ce records a two-year contract made between a potter and an agricultural estate owner: In return for supplying store rooms, kiln, potter’s wheel and raw materials needed to make amphorae, the potter would produce 15,000 wine jars per year for a set salary (Cockle 1981, 90). From this contract, we can construct a model for amphora production whereby the jars were produced on site under the auspices of the agricultural estate that would use them to ship its product. The potter appears to have been a free agent who could contract his services out to an established estate workshop, giving the impression that potters were needed at estate-owned kilns. The

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Dressel 2-4

Gauloise 4 0

Africana 1 50cm

Figure 5.5  Examples of the Italian, Gaulish and African amphoras discussed in this chapter. Dressel 2–4 from Hawkes and Hull 1947, 14. Gauloise 4 and Africana 1 from Panella 1973. Drawings by Nicholas F. Hudson.

close connection between amphora production and agricultural industry illustrated by this contract lends color to the archaeological evidence in North Africa, and other archaeological examples are available in Spain and southern France: Peacock and Williams (1986, 42) saw a similar setup at the southern French site of Aspiran, and kilns of a wine-producing villa might also have produced Gaulish terra sigillata (personal observation; see also Mauné et al. 2006). The nature of amphorae as transport jars for food commodities, however, is frequently overlooked in favor of their value as archaeological indicators of long-distance trade. Just as with fine wares and cooking vessels, not all amphorae were equally distributed because Rome’s preferred sources for olive oil and wine changed over time. For example, the Dressel 20 amphora used to transport Spanish olive oil was the most common and widely distributed amphora in the West in the first century ce. During the second century, however, North African olive oil was increasingly imported to Rome so that by the third century it dominated the market (Carandini 1983, 148). Considering such shifts in the sources of and markets for amphorae (or rather, their contents), the same question posed for fine wares and cooking vessels applies here: What made one amphora tradition rather than another more widely distributed at any given time? What follows are brief overviews of four classes of amphorae, selected to highlight the relationships between their production sites, agricultural content, findspots, and date range of widest distribution. We will then attempt to explain the rise and fall of their individual “popularity.”



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Dressel 2–4/Peacock and Williams Class 10 The shape of this class of amphora is derived directly from the Greek wine amphora used on the Aegean island of Kos, leading to the occasional use of the term “Koan type.” Like its model, Dressel 2–4 was primarily used to transport wine. It first appears around 70 bce, but its widest distribution was not until the later first century bce, lasting until the later first century ce. While production continued into the third century, widespread distribution ceased after the first century. Kilns producing Dressel 2–4 have been found in Catalonia, Baetica, and southern and central France, but the principal zone of production appears to have been in Italy, with workshops in Etruria, Latium, and Campania (Peacock and Williams 1986, 106). Distribution depends on the region of production: Spanish and French versions kept within their regions, while Italian versions traveled widely throughout the Mediterranean and beyond. The Italian version of Dressel 2–4 can be seen as part of the last and greatest moment of Italian wine in the Mediterranean market. What might have caused the sudden celebrity of Italian wine in the late Republic and Augustan periods, and the sudden drop in the later first century ce? The peak’s onset corresponds with Rome’s increased political and commercial machinations in all parts of the Mediterranean, and beyond (Hopkins 1980). By the early first century ce, the most commonly imported wine to Gaul was Italian (Tchernia 1983). In Egypt, significant quantities of Italian wine began to appear at Berenike in the first century ce, due in part to the Roman army stationed there, but also to the arrival of a sizable Italian population, with an Italianoriented trade network (Sidebotham 1999). Dressel 2–4’s decline, on the other hand, may be related to the cataclysmic destruction of Campanian vineyards by the eruption of Vesuvius in 79 ce (Williams 2004). If so, the distribution of Italian wine suffered due to supply problems rather than demand or network shifts.

Gauloise 4, Peacock and Williams Class 27 Gauloise 4 was the most widely distributed wine amphora made in southern France. The amphora transported Gaulish wines throughout the Mediterranean from about 50 ce through the third century, though the peak of production and distribution was from the second half of the first to the mid-second century. Distinguishable in part by its narrow base supported by a shallow ring foot (a feature seen in other Gaulish amphoras), Gauloise 4 was made at many sites in southern France, including Aspiran, which also produced Gaulish sigillata and wine (Mauné et al. 2006). The largest concentration of production appears to have been in the Narbonne region, where thirty-six kiln sites have been identified (Laubenheimer 1985). Many of these can be linked to winemaking, in a situation similar to that of the Egyptian contract discussed above (Laubenheimer 2003). Production of Gauloise 4 and the large-scale export of wine from the greater region of Narbonne began about the same time, around 50 ce. To the north, Gauloise 4 is found in significant quantities along major waterways: up the Rhône from the Mediterranean to Lyon, beyond along the Saône, farther north toward the Roman military zone of the Rhine, and up the Seine toward Britain (Remesal-Rodriguez and Revilla-Calvo 1991). This distribution pattern may relate to the supply chain for Rome’s northern European military outposts. Gauloise 4 also went south throughout the Mediterranean, though never in great quantities except in Italy, where it is common (Laubenheimer 2001). Gauloise 4 became common in Italy as Gaul became an important source of wine for Rome in the mid-first century ce. Between 50 and 150 ce, Gaulish wine made up approximately one quarter of all imported wine coming into the port at Ostia (Martin 2008, figs. 3 and 7). Later phases at Ostia reveal a greatly reduced level of Gaulish wine imports, as wines from the eastern Mediterranean dominated the market (Martin 2008).

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Africana 1/Peacock and Williams Class 33 Africana 1 was one of the most common olive oil amphorae in the western Mediterranean from the second half of the second century ce through the third century, with late versions produced into the fourth. Production of this class was widespread across Rome’s North African provinces, and many kilns are located at sites with established olive oil production. Some of these same kilns were used to produce ARS, ACW, or both (Leitch 2011). The growing importance of North African olive oil to Rome, and therefore the frequency with which North African amphorae like Africana 1 are found in Rome and its environs, began in the second half of the first century ce and grew gradually over the next century to then dominate the market. Using the amphora finds from Rome’s port at Ostia, we see that during the second half of the first century ce North Africa supplied one quarter of all imported oil, including oil imported from elsewhere on the Italian peninsula (Martin 2008, fig. 4). There was little change during the first half of the second century, but by the later third to mid-fourth century, North African oil at Ostia made up 75% of all imported oil (Martin 2008, fig. 12). In other words, by the third century, North African olive oil appears to have been essential for meeting the needs of the urbs (Carandini 1983, 148). The situation is even more dramatic in the second half of the fourth century and through much of the fifth century, when North African olive oil accounts for approximately 91% of all imported oil at Ostia (Martin 2008, fig. 16). In short, amphorae like Africana 1 demonstrate the dominance of North African oil in the city of Rome from the second century onward.

Pottery as Indicator of Foodways and Distribution One of the most common questions the specialist in pottery gets in the field is “what is this, and what was it used for?” The simple truth is that, while we can say what it is (plate, bowl, cup, platter, basin, cook pot, etc.), we are not always able to say what a specific item was used for. Certainly there are limiting factors that can provide a broader framework within which we can assume certain types of function, but the specific question “what was it used for?” should receive a response expressing a range of possibilities and/or uncertainty. More precise functional and behavioral reconstructions must rely on contexts, find-patterns, and literary and artistic documentation, of which there is little (Hudson 2010). Even so, their indirect evidence is valuable in reconstructing possible ancient behaviors, so their contribution to our understanding of Roman foodways is multifaceted. The three major classes of pottery discussed in this chapter—fine table wares, cooking wares, and transport amphorae—each presents different ways of investigating Roman foodways. Amphorae provide direct evidence for mass distribution of food staples throughout the empire, cooking vessels directly show the diffusion of culinary technologies and give indirect evidence for the transmission of culinary traditions, and fine wares provide indirect evidence for the changing modes of how food was presented and consumed at the table in social settings. This distinction between direct and indirect evidence is important. Direct evidence means a one-to-one relation between an object and an understood/known ancient activity. For instance, amphorae provide direct evidence for the transportation of food staples because we know that some classes of amphorae were used to ship wine (e.g., Gauloise 4), others olive oil (e.g., Africana 1), and still others fish sauce (e.g., Dressel 9). Though there are many classes of amphora whose original contents remain unknown to us, they still serve as direct evidence for the transport and distribution of what was most likely agricultural products.



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Cooking wares may provide direct evidence for the diffusion of culinary technologies. For example, the arrival of Italian style cooking/frying pans in the eastern Mediterranean in the first century bce is interpreted as evidence for the influence of Italian merchant colonists on the culinary traditions of the region (Berlin 1993), because of the one-to-one relation between the pan and the culinary method it enabled. On the other hand, cooking wares provide indirect evidence for changing culinary traditions because we often infer that the adoption of new technologies means the adoption of new behavioral patterns. This is problematic and simplistic, but suffice it to say that our inferences and interpretations about cooking habits and other behavior from cooking ware is based on indirect evidence. Fine table wares are often taken as direct evidence for the diffusion of Roman culture, but the history and distribution patterns of the sigillata tradition are too complicated to allow for such direct correlations. The hypothesis that sigillata implies Romanization assumes either a consumer-driven market, where non-Roman people demanded certain types of pottery in order to be more like Romans, or that the Roman state fostered an acculturation program that included table wares, or both. The simpler reality seems to be that sigillatas are common in the Roman world because they moved about the Mediterranean and into newly acquired Roman territories as part of the food supply network. Rather than direct evidence of Romanization, sigillata vessels provide indirect evidence of how food was consumed at meals; the vessels are not functionally specific, or imbued with information about how they were used. If fine wares provide any direct evidence at all, it is for distribution patterns, markets, and trade connections. Our understanding of how certain classes of pottery were distributed across the empire has traditionally been framed within a market/trade route model. Such models, however, focus on the means of distribution, or, more simply, on the pottery as a means to identify distribution/trade routes/connections, but do not address why certain ceramic traditions were favored for pan-Mediterranean distribution over others. Amphorae are the backbone for such works, and rightly so, as they provide direct evidence for the transportation of goods and essential foods. Fine wares have also served as markers for inter-regional exchange (e.g., Carandini 1983; Fulford 1987), and more recently so have less glamorous cooking wares (e.g., Leitch 2011). For both fine and cooking wares, the explanation for why certain production traditions enjoyed wider distribution than others has been quality. For example, the high quality of ESA is cited as the reason for its being transported from its origin in the northern Levant or southern Anatolia to points near and far throughout the eastern Mediterranean, and not infrequently to the West. Similarly, ACW has been cited as a highquality cooking kit whose properties made it worthy of long distance trade. Quality alone, however, is not enough to explain why mercantile interests transported low-value quotidian objects like pottery over great distances. Another traditional explanation is that it was shipped as secondary cargo on ships laden with more precious goods; fine wares, which tend to be small and compact, could be packed in between stacked amphorae or bushels of wheat. This model argues that merchants sought to maximize their profits by adding additional wares amidst their principal cargo, and it works well to explain the means, but falls short of explaining why low-cost ceramics were selected as secondary cargo when more precious goods could have just as easily been packed on board. Nor does it explain why certain ceramic production centers were more successful than others, since not all high-quality fine wares enjoyed equally broad distribution. For instance, Çandarlı ware from Asia Minor is of high quality and widely distributed in the eastern Mediterranean during the second century, but rarely reached the West. Similarly, Sagalassos Red Slip, produced in Pisidia, is of high quality, but its primary range of distribution was regional, with little found farther afield. These models must be adapted to account for the complicated and vast infrastructure and administration of food supplies for Rome and other large cities in the Roman Empire.

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Throughout much of the Republic, the expanding powers of Rome relied on the Italian peninsula for its grain and oil, but as her power, influence, and population expanded, her alimentary needs outpaced Italian production and the city began to rely on more distant provinces. The result was that by the late Republic and early empire more food staples were being transported from overseas to Rome and Italy in general. This reliance on imported food increased over time, so that by the third century, the city of Rome was entirely dependent on external resources. Increasingly, archaeological evidence is illuminating the links between the state-sponsored supply networks for grain, oil, and wine, and the movement of fine table vessels (Figure 5.1). Thirty years ago, Andrea Carandini made a direct correlation between Rome’s increasing reliance on North African agricultural products (especially oil, as traced via North African amphorae, and grain, documented via historical sources) and the increased quantity of African Red Slip distributed in the second through fourth centuries (Carandini 1983). Carandini attributed the success of ARS as a transregional ware not to its quality, which was of less note than the Gaulish and Italian sigillatas it was imitating and competing with during the second century, but to the close proximity of ARS production to important nodes of agricultural production (Carandini 1983, 152). In the thirty years since then, we have learned a great deal more about ARS production that supports Carandini’s hypothesis. In particular, we know that ARS could be produced not just in proximity to agricultural complexes, but as part of them (Bonifay 2004). A review of this evidence will be useful as a parallel for other production traditions. The widely distributed ACW forms followed a similar production history to that of ARS up until the fifth century, when the export of ACW began to fade away (Leitch 2011). Like ARS, ACW production sites have been found on agricultural estates; moreover, at many kiln sites in North Africa, ACW was produced alongside ARS. Less frequently, some kiln sites produced not just ACW and ARS but also amphorae (Leitch 2011, 175). This interlinks production of amphorae, ACW, ARS, and agricultural commodities. Leitch (2011, table 10.2) gave the relevant data for liquid commodities; though grain was likely another important product at many of these North African sites, archaeological evidence is lacking. Of thirty-two known production sites of ACW up to the fourth century, twelve produced ACW and ARS together, though not amphorae, and five of those can be associated with an agricultural industry. Of the sixteen sites that produced both ACW and amphorae, but not ARS, all sixteen can be associated with an agricultural industry. Four sites produced ACW, ARS, and amphorae, but only two can be associated with an agricultural industry. Thus, the strongest correlation with agriculture is when ACW and amphorae were produced together. The agricultural industries at those sites were either oil, wine, or both. This fits with a recent hypothesis that ACW was more commonly transported with wine and oil cargos, while ARS traveled on grain ships (Bonifay 2004, 477–479). Thus a distinction must be made between the relationships between agricultural production and the different classes of pottery (amphorae, cooking vessels, and fine wares). Amphorae can be directly connected to the agricultural industry, since they served as transport containers for the food commodities produced on site. Cooking vessels and fine wares, though also related to food, stand at the other end of the process: preparation and consumption. What impetus might there have been to produce these classes of pottery alongside the necessary, functional amphorae? The technologies of ACW and amphorae are similar enough to make them efficient to produce together (Leitch 2011, 176), while ARS differs significantly enough to make side-by-side production less common. Though simple compatibility doesn’t explain co-production of ACW and amphorae, the third-century Egyptian contract between potter and estate owner already mentioned (p. 79) may shed more light on the issue. In addition to stipulating the



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quantity of wine jars the potter was responsible for producing per year for a set fee, the contract stated that, should the potter choose to produce more jars after satisfying the contract, the estate owners would have the option to purchase them (Cockle 1981, 90). From this, we can understand that the contracted potter had the right to use the resources of the estate (including the potter’s workshop) to supplement his income beyond the limits of the contract. The contract assumed that the potter would make more of the same jars that he was producing for the estate, which makes sense in Egypt, which did not have a tradition of high-quality fine wares or cooking wares, largely due to the poor quality of available raw materials. If potters worked under a similar but modified contract on the agricultural estates in Roman North Africa, they could produce both amphorae for the estates and ACW as a side product for additional income. The ACW could then be sold directly to the estate, which would contract with their shippers to fill in agricultural cargos with ACW and sell it at another market for additional profit. By the second century ce, the major North African agricultural producers contracted with state agents to feed Rome (Garnsey 1983, 123). Private merchants who shipped the food staples could take advantage of state-sponsored trading avenues to sell ACW unofficially, at a profit. Thus the potters’ proximity to agricultural estates paid off for them, the estate owners, and the shippers. The production and shipping of ARS was likely similar, with some minor alterations to the model. While ARS was sometimes made alongside ACW and amphorae at oil- and wineproducing sites, many of the larger production centers of ARS were not strictly associated with agricultural estates (Bonifay 2004). The hypothesis that the shipping of ARS was associated with grain exports may help make sense of this difference. The largest workshops for ARS also supplied the most commonly exported forms of the ware, and should perhaps be seen as independent agents who set up shop close to North African grain producers or distribution and export nodes for the annona, Rome’s grain supply. Their proximity to these export routes would have served a similar purpose to the ACW model, providing the potters access to state-contracted merchants. One objection arises, however. Why wouldn’t the merchants responsible for transporting Rome’s essential foods choose to supplement their income by adding secondary cargos that were of greater value than pottery? Why not include luxury items that would have yielded a much higher profit? An explanation may lie in the merchants’ need to protect their contracts with the prefect overseeing the annona. While private merchants had been offered incentives to contract into the state-sponsored (but not state-owned) merchant fleet to supply the city of Rome with grain during the late Republic and early Principate, under Hadrian the number of incentivized contracts was restricted (Garnsey 1988, 234). Hadrian’s decision to limit the number of contracts may show that such contracts were lucrative enough for merchants to guard them carefully. Under the Antonines, the office of the annona prefect increased its efforts to weed out fraud among annona merchants, including some who reported building ships in order to benefit from the contracts’ tax incentives but did not actually build them (Kessler and Temin 2007, 322). Cargo inspections to ensure that contracted quantities and qualities of grain arrived at Puteoli and Ostia increased, and merchants were eager to demonstrate that they were keeping to their contracts (Kessler and Temin 2007, 322–325). Unfortunately, we do not know the specifics of such contracts, but probably there were restrictions on the shipping parameters, such as time limits, port of call limits (to control timely delivery), or even a specific ban on the inclusion of luxury items in the shipping manifestos. Whatever the reason, it seems increasingly likely that the export of ARS and ACW from North Africa relied largely on the annona network. This is made all the more apparent when we consider that the prefect responsible for the grain supply in Rome was given the additional responsibility of securing olive oil by the late second century (Garnsey 1988, 233); this

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corresponds to the beginning of the peak period of export for ACW, the ware most closely associated with olive oil production and distribution, as discussed above. The parameters above allow the following model of pottery distribution tied to broader food distribution networks in the Roman Empire. Phase

Process

I

The agricultural resources of a region become important to Rome and/or other metropolitan areas of the empire. The annona supply network is established; merchants are contracted by the state to transport agricultural produce. Pottery production options: a. Potters at agricultural estate-owned workshops supplement their earnings by producing and selling secondary wares, either fine wares or cooking wares, to estate owners or merchants. b. Potters establish workshops in proximity to state-managed supply and distribution nodes, funneling wares that offer limited threats to state contracts and are convenient to merchants in the network.

II III

Such a model can explain the development of other inter-regional pottery distributions, with modifications for each instance. One example is the South Gaulish sigillata workshops at Graufesenque. Until the early first century ce, Italian wine was exported to southern Gaul in great quantities. The French department of Aveyron yields one of the richest concentrations of Italian wine amphorae Dressel 1 up through the reign of Tiberius, probably because Italian wine was being used as exchange for silver mined from the region. Tiberius, however, took the silver and gold mines of the empire under imperial control, effectively cutting the need for such exchange (Tchernia 1983, 96). The same date corresponds to both the development of an extensive wine industry in southern Gaul and the establishment of sigillata workshops at Graufesenque, possibly by Italian sigillata makers. After this, both Gaulish wine and sigillata appeared in Italy in increasing quantities through the first century. Graufesenque’s sigillata exports only began to decline in the second century, along with declining wine exports (Lewit 2013, 116). These rises and declines should be seen as correlative. In the case of southern Gaul, the production and distribution model of agricultural and pottery exports can be summarized as follows: Phase

Process

I

The mineral resources of the province were acquired through the exchange of Italian wine, while Italian sigillata was imported as a piggyback cargo.

II

An imperial claim on the mineral resources ends the exchange, but the trade networks already in place are reversed. Wine production begins in southern Gaul to replace lost Italian imports, and is successful. Sigillata workshops are set up where network advantages allow widespread distribution.

III IV

The advantages the potters at Graufesenque exploited were related to the growing wine industry, insofar as that related to the state-run silver mines, which required that trade routes be maintained so the silver could reach Rome. The wine producers also used these routes, and the export of sigillata is not directly linked to the exploitation of the silver mines, as Middleton (1980, 190) suggested, but to the wine export that replaced it. It may seem complicated, and the three products were still intermingled, but the trade model for the region



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simply reversed: before the imperial takeover of the silver mines, Italian wines were exchanged for southern Gaul’s silver, with Italian sigillata piggybacking on the wine; but after the takeover, wine began to be produced and traded from south Gaul, and Graufesenque sigillata accompanied it outward.

Roman Pottery at the Table Of the three classes of Roman pottery we have discussed, sigillatas are most frequently singled out as Roman pottery par excellence. Nevertheless, they remain poorly understood vis-à-vis use in context. Unlike Roman amphorae, whose function is integral to their analysis, Roman sigillatas are typically celebrated as dating tools, and are commonly presented as a typologically structured catalog. By addressing the functional possibilities of sigillata, we can move the discussion beyond chronology and ask questions about cultural performance. One reason the function of sigillata has been sidelined is that the dining context in which it was used has typically been perceived as a single, unchanging cultural phenomenon, spanning the empire in both time and space. This is generally due to the impression of uniformity given by the various sigillata traditions, and specifically by the wide distribution of certain classes like ESA, ITS, ESB, and ARS, resulting in similar-looking assemblages throughout the empire. This static model of Roman dining denies regional dining traditions, assumes a universal food culture, and cannot address changes to fine ware production tradition (notably ARS) over time. The adoption of the sigillata tradition illustrates aspects of Roman social history, as well as Rome’s position as an imperial emporium. The latter has already been addressed, in considering pottery as a component of Rome’s food supply network. Sigillata’s relation to Roman social history, however, requires new kinds of questions: why did the typology of fine wares become more complicated when Italian fine ware producers adopted the sigillata tradition and Rome became the commercial hub of the Mediterranean, at the end of the first century bce? Why did ESA abandon simpler forms when the East was brought fully into the Roman fold? The answers presented here are speculative, but they point to the potential importance of ceramic evidence to our understanding of the food culture of the early imperial period and the changing dining habits of the residents of Rome. As mentioned above in the discussion of ITS, sumptuary laws targeting the amount of money senators could spend on dinner parties became more frequent as Republic became empire (Berry 1994, 75–78). Augustus and Tiberius, again motivated to curb influential largess, renewed such laws (Tacitus, Annals 3.52–54), though they were not very effective, especially under Tiberius. Senators could have adopted complex and varied sigillata table settings as a way of circumventing the laws, by substituting ceramic for silver; sigillatas, especially western sigillatas, often imitated silver vessel forms (Hayes 2008, 9). At the same time, ceramic table settings would have allowed lower social classes to imitate the dining traditions of the wealthy senators whose banquets they hoped to attend. Through imitation came experience on how to behave and deal with the complex array of foods they were likely to encounter at such events (Hudson 2010). The complexity of the array of various small bowls, plates, and saucers in western traditions like ITS and Gaulish sigillata should also be seen in light of changing culinary tastes. As the days of the Republic were dwindling, Rome acquired new eastern provinces, secured maritime routes (Pompey’s conquest of the pirates), and gained agricultural wealth (Egypt). With these new avenues came new temptations and threats to the Roman way of life. Cicero put it neatly: “Maritime cities also suffer a certain corruption and degeneration of morals; for they

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receive a mixture of strange languages and customs and import foreign ways as well as foreign merchandise, so that none of the ancestral institutions can possibly remain unchanged” (On the Republic, 2.7). In other words, the sea corrupts, and Rome now controlled the sea. The effect on food culture in Rome was profound. New culinary traditions began to appear, serving as templates for what passed as luxury and sophistication of palate. In the first century bce, Varro satirized luxurious banquet menus, listing exotic products procured from all corners of the Mediterranean (Aulus Gellius, Attic Nights 6.16). In the first century ce, lavish, even outlandish, dishes are highlighted in Petronius’s send-up of Rome’s nouveau riche, Trimalchio’s famous dinner party (Satyricon 31–37). By the second century ce, Plutarch outlined the diverse array of sauces, cakes, and “Lydian puddings” one was likely to find at dinner parties (Table Talk 2.10.2), and such dishes also feature in Lucian’s satire, On Salaried Posts in Great Houses (13–19), where a novice diner is overwhelmed with the complexity of dishes laid out before him at a dinner party. The relation of these social and culinary developments to sigillata is direct. The complex corpus of small bowls, plates, and dishes developed in the western, and later the eastern, sigillata tradition seems designed to deal with the complicated culinary and table habits that developed as a response to Rome’s acquisition of new lands and cuisines. This is especially true of the first century ce. By the second half of the second century, however, table assemblages became markedly simpler, as cuisine may have as well; at least, we no longer find reports of extravagant feasts and menus as a common literary trope. To sum up, by looking at sigillatas as something other than dating tools, we can create a more nuanced picture of the cross-pollination of cultures that occurred when Rome conquered new lands.

Biographical Note Nicholas Hudson is Associate Professor of Art History at the University of North CarolinaWilmington. His research includes Roman dining and the broad contextualization of pottery in the Late Roman East, where he has conducted fieldwork in Greece, Turkey, Cyprus, Israel, Jordan, and Egypt to that end.

REFERENCES Auriemma, Rita, and Elena Quiri. 2004. “Importazioni di anfore orientali nell’Adriatico tra primo medio impero.” In Transport Amphorae and Trade in the Eastern Mediterranean: Acts of the International Colloquium at the Danish Institute at Athens, September 26–29, 2002, edited by Jonas Eiring and John Lund, Monographs of the Danish Institute at Athens 5, 43–55. Aarhus: Aarhus University Press. Berlin, Andrea M. 1993. “Italian cooking vessels and cuisine from Tel Anafa.” Israel Exploration Journal, 43: 35–44. Berlin, Andrea M. 1997. “The plain wares.” In Tel Anafa II, i: The Hellenistic and Roman Pottery, edited by Sharon Herbert, ix–244. Ann Arbor: Journal of Roman Archaeology. Berry, Christopher J. 1994. The Idea of Luxury: A Conceptual and Historical Investigation. Ideas in Context 30. New York: Cambridge University Press. Bonifay, Michel. 2004. Études sur la céramique romaine tardive d’Afrique. British Archaeological Reports International Series 1301. Oxford: Archaeopress. Carandini, Andrea. 1983. “Pottery and the African economy.” In Trade in the Ancient Economy, edited by Peter Garnsey, Keith Hopkins, and C. R. Whittaker, 145–162. Berkeley: University of California Press. Cockle, Helen. 1981. “Pottery manufacture in Roman Egypt: A new papyrus.” Journal of Roman Studies, 71: 87–97.



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D’Arms, J. H. 1999. “Performing culture: Roman spectacle and the banquets of the powerful.” In The Art of Ancient Spectacle, edited by Bettina Bergmann and Christine Kondoleon, 301–319. New Haven: Yale University Press. Dressel, H. 1899. Inscriptiones Urbis Romae Latinae. Instrumentum Domesticum. Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum. Vol. XV. Berlin: G. Reimerum. Ettlinger, Elisabeth, Bettina Hedinger, and Bettina Hoffmann, eds. 1990. Conspectus Formarum Terrae Sigillatae Italico Modo Confectae. Materialien zur römisch-germanischen Keramik 10. Bonn: R. Habelt. Fulford, Michael. 1987. “Economic interdependence among urban communities of the Roman Mediterranean.” World Archaeology, 19: 58–75. Garnsey, Peter. 1983. “Grain for Rome.” In Trade in the Ancient Economy, edited by Peter Garnsey, Keith Hopkins, and C. R. Whittaker, 118–130. Berkeley: University of California Press. Garnsey, Peter. 1988. Famine and Food Supply in the Graeco-Roman World: Responses to Risk and Crisis. New York: Cambridge University Press. Hawkes, C. F. C., and M. R. Hull. 1947. Camulodunum. London: The Society of Antiquaries of London. Hayes, John W. 1972. Late Roman Pottery. London: The British School at Rome. Hayes, John W. 1985. “Sigillate Orientali.” In Enciclopedia dell’arte antica, classica e orientale. Atlante delle forme ceramiche II. Ceramica fine romana nel bacino Mediterraneo (tardo Ellenismo e primo Impero), edited by Giovanni Pugliese Carratelli. Rome: Istituto della enciclopedia italiana. Hayes, John W. 1997. Handbook of Mediterranean Roman Pottery. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Hayes, John W. 2008. Roman Pottery: Fine-Ware Imports. The Athenian Agora 32. Princeton: American School of Classical Studies at Athens. Hopkins, Keith. 1980. “Taxes and trade in the Roman Empire (200 B.C.-A.D. 400).” Journal of Roman Studies, 70: 101–125. Hudson, Nicholas F. 2010. “Changing places: The archaeology of the Roman ‘convivium’.” American Journal of Archaeology, 114: 663–695. Kessler, David, and Peter Temin. 2007. “The organization of the grain trade in the early Roman Empire.” Economic History Review, 60: 313–332. Kolb, Charles C. 1983. “A red slipped ‘pseudo-Arretine’ ceramic from south central Asia.” East and West, 33, no. 1–4: 57–103. Laubenheimer, Fanette. 1985. La production des amphores en Gaule Narbonnaise. Annales littéraires de l’Université de Besançon 327. Paris: Les Belles Lettres. Laubenheimer, Fanette. 2001. “Le vin gaulois de Narbonnaise exporté dans le monde romain.” In 20 ans de recherches à Sallèles d’Aude, 51–65. Besançon: Presses universitaires franc-comtoises. Laubenheimer, Fanette. 2003. “Amphorae and vineyards from Burgundy to the Seine.” Journal of Roman Pottery Studies, 10: 32–44. Leitch, Victoria. 2010. “Trade in Roman North African cookwares.” Bolletino d’Archeologie, I, no. B. https:// bollettinodiarcheologiaonline.beniculturali.it/wp-content/uploads/2019/01/2_LEITCH.pdf Leitch, Victoria. 2011. “Location, location, location: Characterizing coastal and inland production and distribution of Roman African cooking wares.” In Maritime Archaeology and Ancient Trade in the Mediterranean, edited by Damian Robinson and Andrew Wilson, 169–195. Oxford: Oxford Centre for Maritime Archaeology. Lewit, Tamara. 2013. “The mysterious case of La Graufesenque? Stimuli to large-scale fine pottery production and trade in the Roman Empire.” In Seeing Red: New Economic and Social Perspectives on Gallo-Roman Terra Sigillata, edited by Michael Fulford and Emma Durham, 111–120. London: University of London, Institute of Classical Studies. Malfitana, Daniele, Jeroen Poblome, and John Lund. 2005. “Eastern Sigillata A in Italy. A socioeconomic evaluation.” BABesch, 80: 199–212. Martin, Archer. 2008. “Imports at Ostia in the Imperial Period and Late Antiquity: The Amphora Evidence from the DAI-AAR Excavations.” In The Maritime World of Ancient Rome: Proceedings of “The Maritime World of Ancient Rome” conference held at the American Academy in Rome, 27–29 March 2003, edited by Robert L. Hohlfelder, 105–118. Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome Supplementary Volume 6. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.

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Mauné, S., R. Bourgaut, J. Lescure, Ch. Carrato, and C. Santran. 2006. “Nouvelles données sur les productions céramiques de l’atelier de Dourbie à Aspiran (Hérault): première moitié du Ier s. ap. J.-C.” In Actes du Congrès de Pézenas, 25–28 mai 2006: Productions, approvisionnements et usages de la vaisselle en Languedoc du Ier au IVe siècle apr. J.-C. Actualité des recherches céramiques, edited by Lucien Rivet, 156–188. Marseille: SFECAG, Société française d’étude de la céramique antique en Gaule. Panella, Clementina. 1973. Appunti su un gruppo di anfore della prima, media e tarda età Imperiale. Rome: De Luca Editore. Middleton, Paul. 1980. “La Graufesenque: A question of marketing.” Athenaeum, 58: 186–191. Peacock, D. P. S., and D. F. Williams. 1986. Amphorae and the Roman Economy: An Introductory Guide. London: Longman. Peña, J. Theodore. 2007. Roman Pottery in the Archaeological Record. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Poblome, Jeroen, Raymond Brulet, and Octavian Bounegru. 2000. “The concept of Sigillata. Regionalism or integration?” Rei Cretariae Romanae Fautorum Acta, 36: 279–283. Remesal-Rodríguez, José, and Victor Revilla-Calvo. 1991. “Weinamphoren aus Hispania Citerior und Gallia Narbonensis in Deutschland und Holland.” Fundberichte Aus Baden-Würtemberg, 16: 389–439. Sidebotham, Steven E. 1999. “Berenike, trade and the military: Investigations at a Red Sea port in Egypt.” In Roman Frontier Studies: Proceedings of the XVIIth International Congress of Roman Frontier Studies, edited by Nicolae Gudea, 250–257. Zalău: Porolissum. Slane, Kathleen. 1997. “The fine wares.” In Tel Anafa II, i. The Hellenistic and Roman Pottery, edited by Sharon Herbert, 247–405. Ann Arbor: Journal of Roman Archaeology. Tchernia, André. 1983. “Italian wine in Gaul at the end of the Republic.” In Trade in the Ancient Economy, edited by Peter Garnsey, Keith Hopkins, and C. R. Whittaker, 87–104. Berkeley: University of California Press. Williams, David F. 2004. “The eruption of Vesuvius and its implications for the early Roman amphora trade with India.” In Transport Amphorae and Trade in the Eastern Mediterranean: Acts of the International Colloquium at the Danish Institute at Athens, September 26–29, 2002, edited by Jonas Eiring and John Lund, 441–450. Aarhus: Aarhus University Press.

CHAPTER 6

The Military Alexandra W. Busch

Introduction From the late Republic to late antiquity, several million soldiers served in the Roman army. Because of their function, their mobility, their empire-wide deployment, their high supply needs, and their diverse relationships with civilian populations in their areas of origin and stationing, the soldiers, and thus the military as an institution, played an important role in the political, economic, social, and cultural developments of Rome and its provinces. The military can confidently be called the backbone of the Roman Empire, for without its legions and auxiliaries, Rome would not have been able to expand its dominion over large parts of Europe, the Middle East, and North Africa, and to keep these conquered territories under its administration for several centuries. Once new territories were secured, stationed troops continued to perform infrastructural and administrative tasks. Service in the army enabled social advancement and contributed to the integration of provincial societies. This chapter aims to show the impact of the Roman military as one of the central institutions of the Roman Empire on different levels, based on its material legacies. Border fortifications, military architecture, equipment, features, and finds from more than eight hundred camps (castra), as documented by the attached Gazetteer, as well as their nearby settlements, cemeteries, and monuments, give insights into political, economic, cultural, and social developments directly related to the military that cannot be inferred from literary sources. The material remains also provide information about organizational structures, networks, and interdependencies, as well as about mentalities, values, norms, and the manifold social relations within the military, among military units, and between the military and the civilian populations in Rome and its provinces. The study of the archaeology of the Roman military thus contributes to a fundamentally better understanding of the Roman Empire and its development. The chronological starting point for this chapter is the reform of the Roman army under Augustus. After the battle of Actium, Augustus dismissed a large part of the sixty legions under his command and for the first time created a professional army consisting of about 300,000 legionary and 150,000 auxiliary soldiers (Keppie 1998; LeBohec 2000; Haynes 2001). The legionary soldiers were initially recruited mainly from Italians, had Roman citizenship, and were required to serve in the army at first for sixteen years, then for twenty

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 1, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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years from 5 ce onward. The so-called auxiliary troops were recruited from free provincials (peregrini) who could acquire Roman citizenship for themselves and their descendants by serving twenty-five years in the Roman army. Service in the army was thus an attractive option for young men, whether Roman or non-Roman, as it offered not just a steady income but also the possibility of social advancement. This establishment of a standing army was decisive in laying the foundations for Rome’s massive expansion. In addition to the legions and auxiliaries created for military campaigns, conquest of new territories, and control of those conquests, Augustus established other military and paramilitary units for service in the capital of the Roman Empire. These included the praetorian guard and the Germanic bodyguard, for the emperor’s own protection, and the cohortes urbanae and cohortes vigilum, which fulfilled the tasks of a police force and a fire department, respectively, within the city of Rome (Busch 2011). The organizational structure created by Augustus remained largely unchanged until the end of the third century ce, so this chapter will examine archaeological legacies from those three centuries. They include a wide range of finds, from border fortification systems (limes, limites) to military camps and equipment, dedicatory and funerary monuments of the soldiers, and selected finds from the camps and the surrounding settlements (canabae legionis and/or vici). This chapter cannot give a complete picture of the military in all aspects and cannot discuss all types of material remains in detail, but it aims to highlight the specific value and research potential of these different archaeological sources, which will confirm the Roman military’s role as essential to the Roman Empire.

Overview of Previous Research Though documentation of Hadrian’s Wall and its camps and forts had already begun in the eighteenth century in Great Britain, systematic research on the Roman military in Europe started around the middle of the nineteenth century. The first essays were based on literary and epigraphic sources, and they focused on the organization and history of the army or its parts (e.g., Mommsen 1877). Fundamental for this was the evidence of inscriptions collected in the Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum (CIL), started in 1853. About the same time in Italy, the remains of the Castra Albana were documented by the architect Pietro Rosa and included in the work of Luigi Canina (1856) on ancient monuments along the Via Appia. With the massive expansion of the city of Rome in the late nineteenth century, the Castra Praetoria (camp of the imperial bodyguard), and parts of the Castra Priora and Castra Nova Equitum singularium were documented by Rodolfo Lanciani in his Forma Urbis Romae (1893–1901), which mapped all known archaeological features in Rome. Soon the founder of the Roman-Germanic Central Museum published the first treatise on the costume and armaments of the imperial Roman army (Lindenschmit 1882). Only a decade later, systematic research and documentation of the Roman limes in Germany started when the Imperial Limes Commission, chaired by Theodor Mommsen, began its work on the Upper Germanic-Raetian limes in 1892, and founded a new publication series, Der Obergermanisch-Rätische Limes (from 1903 onward; Irmscher 1966). Meanwhile a similar series, Der römische Limes in Österreich, was founded in Austria. Research on the limites in Britain, Germany, and Austria got a real push in the second half of the twentieth century: the Congress of Roman Frontier Studies, established in 1949, was and is an important forum for international limes research. In recent decades, efforts to protect individual sections of the northwestern limes as UNESCO World Heritage Sites, technical developments in the fields of remote sensing and geophysics, as well as emergency and research excavations, have all substantially improved our knowledge of limites and their hinterlands. Consequently, the state of knowledge and publication of camps, forts, and frontier lines in Britain, as well as the Rhine and Danube provinces, now surpasses our knowledge on those in



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the East and North Africa, although military sites in arid regions are often much better preserved than those in northwestern Europe, which are subject to stone theft and overbuilding. Nonetheless, knowledge of the eastern frontier increased from the 1980s on, with overviews of the limes Arabicus (Gregory and Kennedy 1985; Freeman and Kennedy 1986; Parker 1987, 2006) and detailed studies of camps and fortresses there and in North Africa (Rebuffat, Deneauve, and Hallier 1966–1967; Welsby 1990; Mackensen 2000, 2009, 2011, 2021b; Brun and Cuvigny 2011). In recent years interest has shifted toward the landscapes around the military camps and fortresses. Archaeologists, geologists, geomorphologists, and archaeobiologists work in close collaboration on their reconstructions of these landscapes, to better understand past environmental conditions as well as the military’s impact on the environments. While our knowledge of the limites in the provinces increased massively during the twentieth to twenty-first centuries, military architecture and finds in Rome and its immediate surroundings, which are of fundamental interest for the study of the Roman military and its defensive architecture, were ignored for a long time. One of the reasons for this is the separation of provincial Roman/Romano-British archaeology from classical archaeology; the former was naturally concerned with cultural legacies in the provinces and on the borders of the Roman Empire, while the latter has traditionally focused on the Mediterranean region, and other subjects than the military. Moreover, it seemed that the study of military topics was not popular, at least in Italy, for several decades after the end of the Second World War, which left the study of urban Roman and central Italian military sites almost nonexistent for many decades. Knowledge of these sites, however, is essential to understanding not only the dynamics of the empire’s capital but also the development of imperial period defensive architecture, as well as the interdependence between center and periphery (Coulston 2000; Busch 2011; Busch and Aglietti 2011, 2012; Aglietti and Busch 2013; Haynes et al. 2017, 2018; Haynes and Liverani 2020). Parallel to the steadily growing level of knowledge from the past thirty years of new finds from excavations and surveys across the Roman Empire, limes studies have opened to thematic and theoretical approaches, investigating the relations between limes and hinterland, between camps and civilian settlements, and the function of borders as contact zones. In addition to the role of the military as an economic force or as a bearer of culture (von Hesberg 1999; de Blois and Lo Cascio 2007), interests in the cultural and social identity of soldiers and their relationships with civilians have grown since the 1990s. Long-neglected topics such as the roles and relationships of women with the military have been addressed by the work of Sara Elise Phang (2001, 2004), Lindsay Allason-Jones (1997, 1999), Carol van Driel-Murray (1995, 1997, 1998), Penelope Allison (2006, 2011, 2013), and Elizabeth Greene (2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2020), substantially enriching our picture of military society. It was only in recent years that, stimulated by postcolonial debates, many long-needed critical reflections and perspectives on Roman expansion and the Roman military as an instrument of subjugation and conquest have been published (James 2011; Mattingly 2011; Fernández-Götz, Maschek, and Roymans 2020). It is astonishing that, despite Lindenschmit’s early publication of Roman military equipment, the study of Roman militaria did not really take off until the 1970s. Essential for this were the works of H. Russell Robinson (1975) and Jochen Garbsch (1978). The famous illustrations in Peter Connolly’s book The Roman Army (1975) made the topic accessible to a broader audience. Other important steps toward the establishment of a separate branch of military studies were the publications of Mike Bishop and Jon Coulston (1993) and Michel Feugère (1994), as well as the founding of the Roman Military Equipment Conference and the Journal of Roman Military Equipment Studies in 1990. Important overviews by English and German scholars in the 1970s and 1980s were supplemented in the following decades by standard works on individual weapon types (Miks 2007), outstanding individual finds, and publications of militaria from important sites like Pompeii (Ortisi 2015). A summary of the

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development of Roman militaria research and the differences between the German and the Anglo-American tradition has been given by Florian Schimmer (2022). As the number of publications has accelerated in recent decades, the references given in this chapter are meant as a starting point that should stimulate further reading and research into the subject.

Border Fortifications and Military Architecture The locations, architecture, and construction dates of the Roman Empire’s border fortification systems not only provide information about political and strategic considerations but also shed light on the relationship between Rome and the populations that lived beyond the limites of the Roman Empire. The different characters of these frontiers determined the limites’ functionality and permeability as well as the perception of them from both inside and outside the empire. More permeable river frontiers on the Rhine and Danube and limites in North Africa and the Near East differed substantially from heavily built frontier systems, such as the Upper Germanic-Raetian limes, Hadrian’s Wall, and the Antonine Wall in Britain, where ditches, rampart/ditch systems, or walls built in timber-and-earth or stone formed physical boundaries that could not easily be crossed, providing stricter security and access control by restricting movement between territories. They were furthermore a clearly visible and tangible sign of Roman power and marked the territory under Roman rule. In contrast, the desert frontiers in North Africa and the Near East, like the river frontiers in northwestern and southeastern Europe, functioned more as contact zones, enabling trade and control of adjacent areas and, above all, rapid deployment of soldiers (Mattingly 1998; Ruffing, Rasbach, and Becker 2010; Mattingly et al. 2013; Stoll 2016; Wilson 2017; Guédon 2018). The different designs of the frontier systems show the flexibility and adaptability of the Roman military, which can also be discerned in other spheres of state control. Expansions of the frontier systems did not always reflect immediate threats but changing relations between Rome and its neighbors. Detailed study of frontier systems as well as individual camps, forts, and watchtowers also provides important insights into land surveying, organization of the construction process, use and procurement of resources, and production of building materials (Schmitz 2002; Schaaff 2015). All this construction required not only excellent planning and organization but also specialized technical knowledge. The building materials were either available on site, had to be procured from afar, or had to be produced. It is not surprising but essential to realize that stone and brick construction was first introduced and implemented in many regions of the Roman Empire by the Roman army. The effect that these massive constructions had on the Iron Age populations (e.g., at the Lower Germanic limes) cannot be overestimated. The technology they introduced was quickly adapted and applied to civilian projects and settlements.

Camps and Fortresses In addition to thousands of so-called marching camps and temporary shelters, around 90 legionary camps and more than 720 auxiliary forts, built in timber-and-earth or stone and sited in the provinces as well as on the borders of the Roman Empire, are known from the period between the first and third centuries ce (see Gazetteer). Often they were parts of complex border systems, ranging from river borders to simple rampart or rampart/ditch installations to walls built in stone. In addition, there were camps and accommodations for military units in Rome and its environs, as established under Augustus and his successors (Coulston 2000; Busch 2007, 2011; Haynes et al. 2017; Haynes and Liverani 2020). Legionary camps, auxiliary forts and smaller forts for detachments such as numeri are assignable to these groups by their functional features and size, related to the type and size of



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military unit (e.g., legio, cohors equitata). Individual variations often arise from specific conditions or available resources of the territory. Both the common features and deviations provide insights into hierarchies, concepts, mentalities, and values within the army, as well as into building organization, use of resources and knowledge transfer. The growing number and strategic distribution of military installations between the first century bce and the third century ce are shown in the Gazetteer maps (Figures 6.6–6.9). They illustrate not only the development of frontiers but also the army’s presence all over the empire. They provide an overview as well as a starting point for further research, and this part of the chapter focuses on specific aspects and potentials for study of these military features. Despite the empire-wide distribution of imperial defensive architecture, for more than a hundred years its study was concentrated mainly on the northwestern borders and Danube limes. As has been mentioned, research on other military installations, often well-preserved and in arid regions, has grown significantly in the last four decades. Their investigation not only yields valuable information on the construction and equipment of the camps themselves, but also allows for more general conclusions about the organization of their border systems, the cultural-historical significance of the military in their regions, and the interaction between the occupying army and the local population (Reddé 2014; Mackensen 2021a). The advantage of integrating data from Rome and its environs with that from other military installations across the empire can be illustrated by studying the origin and spread of the so-called playing card form of plan. While Republican and Augustan fortifications were characterized by polygonal ground plans (e.g., Ulbert 1984), camps throughout the empire became almost exclusively playing card–shaped from the middle of the first century onward. The prototype of the shape turns out to be the Castra Praetoria in Rome; its original Tiberian playing card layout differs from the often-published plan, which shows a wall that was modified over centuries (Busch 2011; see below). It is not surprising that a design that spread throughout the empire originated at the center of the empire, and from the camp of the highest-ranking and best-paid unit of the Roman army; this fact, however, was not noticed for decades because there had been no intensive examination of military installations within Rome itself. Study of the camps in and around Rome, along with sites in North Africa and the Near East, is important for reconstructing military architecture in parts of the Roman Empire where sites are poorly preserved. It also aids in evaluation and improvement of the increasingly popular reconstructions of imperial military architecture throughout the Roman Empire. Such virtual or 3D visualizations, reconstructions, or (lifelike) replicas of Roman fortifications (as in Bidwell, Miket, and Ford 1988, 214–255; Fischer 2008, 139–141) are sometimes misleading, as they construct a seeming reality that at best depicts only one of many possible options. Details such as furnishings, roofing, and façade design are problematic in all reconstructions, but even the former heights of the buildings may be tenuous based on a lack of well-preserved references in the northwestern provinces: for example, between high or low gates and walls (Flügel and Obmann 2013). It is surprising that the well-preserved fortifications in North Africa or the East are only rarely considered for such reconstructions, and Rome and its surroundings are completely ignored. Instead, single finds, such as the toppled wall of the numerus fort Wörth am Main (Steidl 2008, 99) are imported for the reconstruction of various fortifications across the empire.

Design, Semantics, and Reception of Military Architecture The design and semantics of military architecture can be evaluated using two case studies: first, a comparison of the Castra Praetoria and the Castra Albana for camp walls; second, using the Castra Vetera I, a double legion camp, and the legionary camps of Novaesium and Bonna, all on the Lower German limes, to examine the interior design of legionary camps.

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The Castra Praetoria and the Castra Albana are particularly suitable, as both are military installations in the center of the empire, with well-preserved gates and walls that differ in construction, material, and outer appearance (Busch 2013). Castra Vetera I is particularly significant for the interior design of Roman legionary camps: built in stone on the stone-poor Lower Rhine in the first century, it shows the potential of a detailed examination of camp architecture in general.

Case Study 1: Fortress Exteriors The Castra Praetoria, built under Tiberius between 21 and 23 ce (Tacitus, Annals 4.2; Suetonius, Tiberius 37), was the first monumentally constructed military camp of the imperial period, as previous ones were built of perishable materials (Johnson 1987; von Schnurbein 1991). The camp covered an area of more than 16 ha, and housed the urban cohorts as well as the praetorian guard. It was erected between the Via Nomentana and the Via Tiburtina, two of the main roads leading out of Rome. Its well-preserved north side, which has hardly changed in basic structure due to later restorations, is most relevant for the reconstruction of the height and appearance of the Tiberian camp wall. It also documents several changes to the structure between the first and the third century until the camp lost its character as an independent fortification, about 250 years after its construction, due to its integration into the Aurelian city wall (Figure 6.1; Richmond 1927; Cozza 1997; Busch 2011).

Figure 6.1  Northeast wall of the Castra Praetoria in Rome showing building phases. Photo by Alexandra W. Busch.



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In its first construction phase, the defensive wall of the praetorian camp was built as a 0.90-m-thick shell wall with a Roman concrete (opus caementicium) foundation and core. The inner and outer shells were constructed using different masonry techniques: for the outer facing, the new “high-tech” building material of the early imperial period – bricks – was chosen, while the inner facing was done in opus reticulatum. The wall was around 4.40 m high. It had a cornice of bricks at the height of its walkway and was crowned by 0.60-m-wide battlements with a minimum height of 0.70 m. The towers projected only slightly and had, like the wall, battlements above a cornice of profiled bricks. Of the original four gates, only the north and east have survived. These were also of brick construction, largely corresponding to that of the wall. Particularly well preserved is the north gate, whose 4.60-m-wide passage was spanned by a 5.95-m-high arch that rested on carefully tiled pilasters on each side. Unfortunately, neither of the two gates preserve traces of the upper construction, but both were flanked by 4.13-m-wide towers, which, like the other towers, protruded only about 0.30 m and had two small windows apiece. Though the east gate corresponded in shape and design to the north gate, there are differences between their pilasters, suggesting different building groups. Neither the wall of the camp nor the towers and gates were plastered, so the Castra Praetoria was not only the first camp of the Roman Empire built in permanent building material, but also the first monumental brick building in Rome. The overall height of the Castra Praetoria’s first-phase defensive wall (about 4.40 m without battlements, 5.00–5.19 m with them) was about 17 Roman feet, corresponding to other early and middle imperial period camp walls on the borders of the empire (Johnson 1987). The battlements’ width and the spaces between them also fit into the spectrum known from the provinces. While other forts of the same period had towers fully integrated into the camp wall, those of the Tiberian Castra Praetoria protruded slightly: this form only became common at the imperial borders in the course of the second century (Bechert 1971). The Castra Albana for legio II Parthica in Albano Laziale was built under Septimius Severus, toward the end of the second or beginning of the third century ce, as the first and only permanent legionary camp on Italian soil, only 20 km away from Rome (Lugli 1919; Ritterling 1925; Tortorici 1974). This stationing of a regular force at the gates of the Roman Empire’s capital represented a decisive break in the history of Rome. A steeply rising terrain belonging to the area of Domitian’s villa at Castel Gandolfo, in imperial possession since the late first century ce, was chosen for the camp’s site (von Hesberg 2006). Due to its exposed position and orientation toward the Via Appia, the camp not only dominated Rome’s southern environs, but controlled its most important access road from the south. The stone defensive wall of the Castra Albana was built out of tuff blocks that were up to 2 m long, a construction technique that had long been used in central Italy, especially in Republican times. A particularly well-preserved section of the back wall of the castra (whose gate, or porta decumana, has not yet been located) revealed not only the original surface of the unplastered defensive wall, roughly finished with a point chisel, but also the base of the wall foundation. This discovery made it possible to establish a difference in ground level of almost 40 m from the front (porta praetoria) side to the back, and allowed reconstruction of the wall to a minimum height of over 7.0 m (Aglietti and Busch 2013). As the best preserved tower of the castra, on the southeast wall, is still about 8 m high without showing traces of a crown, an original height of 9–10 m can be restored (Figure 6.2). It protruded 0.50 m from the wall, more than towers at the back of the castra. The porta praetoria of the Castra Albana, which faced the Via Appia, had three arched passages, the central one higher than the two sides. Though it does not survive, there was probably an inscription over the central passage, as shown by two carefully smoothed blocks on which bracket holes indicate the attachment of a large block. The passages were flanked

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Figure 6.2  Photogrammetry of the well-preserved tower on the southeast wall of the Castra Albana in Albano Laziale (Latium), by Jost Broser and Sabrina Geiermann.

on either side by staircases, and next to the staircases there were two towers that protruded a full meter, much farther than the tower on the southeast side or those at the back of the camp. The gate had a total width of 34 m, and its minimum height can be determined with certainty by the 12 m high barrel vault of the preserved southern side passage; since no traces of battlements or crowning are visible above the preserved vault, the original height must have been over 12 m. Though the defensive wall of the Castra Albana, with its projecting towers, corresponds to contemporary fortifications on the imperial borders (such as the legionary camp at Regensburg), its porta praetoria is one of the largest camp gates of the Roman imperial period, and indeed one of the most imposing gateways from the Severan period in the whole empire. As the Severan period showed no need for such a huge defensive construction in the heart of the empire and so close to Rome, other explanations must be considered. The camp’s front, with its massive gate and projecting towers, faced Via Appia, one of the main roads to



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the south of Italy, and could be seen from afar. This was a “show side”: such show sides of Roman camps, oriented on particularly important traffic axes, can also be found elsewhere. A particularly impressive example is the camp of Nag al-Hagar in Egypt, whose front facing the Nile was made of stone ashlars, while the sides and back wall were built of mud bricks (Mackensen 2009). The structural differences between the Castra Praetoria and the Castra Albana perfectly illustrate the different functions and ideologies behind the two camps. The defensive wall of the Castra Albana (at least 7 m high) was considerably taller than the original Castra Praetoria wall, and though the latter was raised by about 2 m in Severan times (Busch 2011, 56), it was still not as imposing as the contemporary structure at Albano. More tellingly, the porta praetoria of the Castra Albana was a triple gate more than 12 m high flanked by massive towers protruding 1 m; the surviving gates of the Castra Praetoria are more restrained – only one passage each, slightly protruding towers, and a lower height. Even if the camp wall and projecting towers of the Castra Albana correspond to contemporary fortifications at the imperial borders, its extremely large porta praetoria is more comparable to city gates (Bechert 1971). With this powerful architecture, the camp had a strong external effect and became not just a landmark visible from afar but an impressive manifestation of the emperor’s power and his basis of rule. In contrast, the older Castra Praetoria’s first phase did not have a fortress-like character and was set behind the earthwork of the early “Servian” city wall. This was due to Roman internal politics in the first half of the first century. In Republican times, no military had been allowed to stay in Rome, and when Augustus created units for service in the capital, the soldiers were initially distributed in quarters throughout the city; they were only given their own camp under Tiberius, and on the city’s outskirts at that. Over time, however, raising and remodeling made the wall and gates of the Castra Praetoria more defensive, reflecting changes both in mentality and in relations between the emperor and the Senate, as also shown in the construction of the Castra Albana.

Case Study 2: Fortress Interiors and Décor According to the Roman historian Tacitus (Histories 3.84), “the glory of the soldier … lay exclusively in his camp, which (was) his home, his house and farm.” A new home was needed by thousands of soldiers from northern Italy and southern France who came to the Rhineland and the Lower Rhine during the Roman occupation. Most of them remained stationed in the conquered territories for several years, sometimes even decades. Their camps had initially been built of perishable timber and earth, but the army began to build in stone from about the middle of the first century ce. Contrary to what numerous reconstructions and even recent computer-generated 3D models suggest, these stone military camps at the borders of the Roman Empire were not purely functional and unadorned facilities; such reconstructions are often reminiscent of eighteenth and nineteenth century military barracks, erroneously transferred to antiquity. Instead, publications of finds at actual camps in the northwestern provinces (e.g., in the Rhineland) document a great abundance of lavish, sometimes very high quality, architectural decoration in legionary camps. It has been little noted that countless remains of richly decorated capitals, columns, pillars and pilasters, cornices, and friezes, as well as other relief elements, show that there was elaborate architectural decor in camps of the Lower Rhine limes. In this case study, high-quality architectural and decorative remains from the legionary camps of Vetera I (Xanten), Novaesium (Neuss), and Bonna (Bonn) contradict the usual image of a stark, simple standard for the Roman military at the borders of the empire. In fact, official buildings and central areas of the camps, especially officers’ quarters, were comparable in quality and decor to buildings in the newly founded provincial colonies.

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To determine the actual appearance of the camps in the Rhineland, or legionary and auxiliary camps elsewhere, and to gain an accurate idea of the living space of the Roman military, it is crucial to take into account all this evidence, as well as the layouts of the buildings. The finds can also inform us about the supply of raw materials, production of building materials, and craftsmanship. Stone analyses clarify the origins of construction materials and whether the same deposits were used for other military camps or civil settlements. Objects such as sculptures, dedicatory altars, basins, and other equipment also gave as much character to the complexes as the architecture. Among the sculptural fragments from Vetera I, Novaesium, and Bonna, for example, were several portraits of persons of the imperial household; these and numerous remains of statue bases indicate a rich sculptural environment within legionary camps. A recent study of fragments of bronze statuary from the limes in Germany (Kemkes 2017) adds to and enriches our picture of the camps and surrounding settlements. Among the architectural decoration of the three legionary camps in this case study, remains of columns, pilasters, and pillars are the most common, though parts of architraves, friezes, and cornice fragments are also preserved. But many of these have gone unrecognized in graphic reconstructions and models, distorting the overall impression of the buildings. This is particularly evident for the headquarters, principia, of the double legion camp Vetera I. Although individual fragments of architectural ornamentation were considered for the published reconstructions and the models of the principia and the palace of the legates of Castra Vetera I by Mylius (1921) and Schultze (1921, 1930), their selection left unconsidered entire genres of material, such as reliefs and figurative and floral decorated end bricks. This left their reconstruction of the principia of Vetera I looking relatively plain and functional. That picture is contradicted by many elaborate, sometimes very high-quality, objects. Of the more than eight hundred preserved fragments of architectural ornamentation and reliefs found at Castra Vetera I, a large part can be attributed to the principia (Figure 6.3).

Figure 6.3  Architectural decor from the principia of the legionary camp Vetera I, Germania Inferior. Photo by Alexandra W. Busch.



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These pieces are often small: after the camp’s destruction in the Batavian Revolt, its remains were despoiled for the expansion of the nearby civilian settlement, the later Colonia Ulpia Traiana, and in the process, the protrusions (e.g., acanthus leaves, volutes, or consoles) on large, usable stones were trimmed off. These fragments were left behind as waste, but they prove the existence of the larger pieces they came from, such as capitals, column drums, architraves, and cornices, which must therefore form part of any reconstruction. Many fragments of fluted columns and Corinthian or composite capitals have survived from the principia, allowing its order to be reconstructed, and entablature fragments from one of the two flag shrines included a richly decorated corbel cornice, pearl bars, and a vine frieze whose tendrils resemble those on the elaborate tomb of Lucius Poblicius in Cologne from the middle of the 1st century ce, allowing us to reconstruct a similar decor for the principia of Vetera I. It also had decorated end bricks, relief decoration, console cornices, friezes, and architraves with pearl bars. The decor of the staff building of Vetera I was not just less sober than the standard reconstructions, but was no less ornate than the civil architecture of neighboring Roman cities like Colonia Claudia Ara Agrippinensium (Cologne). The legate’s palace reconstructed by Mylius (1921) can also be traced back to models from private residential architecture in Italy, so that a correspondingly rich interior and high level of comfort can be expected there. A separate, “military” building aesthetic existed only in the barracks and the valetudinarium, or hospital – the two building forms that had no counterparts in civilian architecture. What were the reasons for this selectivity, when Schultz’s descriptions (1924) testify to his knowledge of decorative architectural components? The format of the drawings and the models cannot have played a role, since contemporary reconstructions of Roman and Greek temples show that they could depict opulent building decoration very well. But if one takes into account the manifold connections of the early limes researchers to the Prussian military, their own military backgrounds and personal experiences, and contemporary ideas of the nature of a military facility, it is not surprising that these influenced the general picture of Roman military camps, and indeed limes research as a whole, even obscuring actual archaeological finds. In fact, decorative design was not limited to the central administrative buildings but extended over the entire camp area. The richness and variety of architecture within camps is shown by capital fragments of different types in the same camp, which show that different column orders were preferred for different buildings. The best example is the camp at Novaesium, whose baths preserved a Tuscan decorative capital while even the valetudinarium had a fragment of a figural capital; there was a vine pilaster from the eastern praetentura, a carefully fluted column drum found near the barracks, remains of a very large frieze on the porta principalis sinistra, and fragments of a richly decorated corbel cornice in front of the porta praetoria. Again, architectural decoration from the three camps is closely comparable with that of contemporaneous civilian urban centers of the province in design, production, quality, and even dimensions. Thus, “military architecture” hardly differed from civic architecture, and was not subject to a separate aesthetic. Further, the finds from Novaesium and Bonna show that stone construction probably encompassed the entire camp area, though differences in quality between central areas and the periphery are certainly indicated, and as noted, buildings without an equivalent in the civilian context, such as the valetudinaria or the barracks, were given plainer decor than those with urban parallels. But for whom was the elaborate stone architecture built? Who could enter and see it? Unlike today’s military installations, the legionary camps in Roman imperial times were not closed-off areas but semipublic space, at least as far as their central areas were concerned. Unless there was a bypass, the limes road for traffic and trade ran right through the middle of the camp, as at Novaesium. So in order to get from one place to another, civilians had to drive or walk through the camp. If a camp had a bath facility and the canabae legionis did not, it can be assumed that the bath was accessible to the civilian population at certain times of the day

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or week. Conversely, entertainment facilities located in the canabae, such as the amphitheater in front of Vetera I, were frequented both by soldiers and inhabitants of the camp suburb. With the transfiguration of its military camps into impressive stone architecture, Rome demonstrated power and manifested its claim to rule permanently in the occupied territories. The monumental design of military facilities was not only aimed at the local civilian population, however, but also at the facilities’ occupants. Their camps gave the military a home – a homeland in a foreign land. Familiar architectural forms and structures reminded the soldiers, often from southern Gaul or northern Italy, of the cities and buildings in their areas of origin, and thus decisively shaped their attitude to living, day to day and generally. Unlike today’s military barracks, the camps offered the soldiers almost the same infrastructure as a Roman city – a little Rome on the Rhine.

Military Equipment Like military architecture, militaria are a particularly valuable and important source for studying the Roman army. The term “militaria” includes not just weapons but many sorts of equipment, such as components of the military belt, the soldiers’ sandals, or horse gear. Militaria provide information not just about the army’s presence in the provinces and beyond the empire’s borders but about resources, production methods, manufacturing techniques, technological skills and developments, knowledge transfer, trade, and—last but not least—combat tactics and techniques and their development. Furthermore, militaria can show processes of cultural appropriation and integration within the Roman army as well as differences in rank, status, and mentality between different units and even among individual soldiers within a unit. Overviews on armor and military equipment like Robinson (1975), Bishop and Coulston (1993), and Fischer (2012) are excellent starting points for further general research, while studies by Waurick (1988), Miks (2007), Schalles and Schreiter (1993), and Schalles (2010) treat individual genres of militaria exhaustively and provide data for detailed investigations of specific issues and aspects. Previous studies on militaria often focused on production methods, distribution patterns, or fighting techniques; this section will examine the significance of Roman militaria as expressions of differences in rank, status, and mentality, using the so-called parade helmets as a case study. It is intended to highlight the potential for deeper examination, and does not aim to be a thorough treatment of the topic. Actual remains of Roman armaments and other military equipment usually come from military camps and settlements, and are often found as fragments. This is also true for finds from battlefields, such as Kalkriese and Krefeld-Gellep. On the other hand, militaria from waters and rivers, from consecration finds like the so-called bog sacrifices (e.g., Thorsberg or Nydam), and from graves and hoards are generally well preserved for study. Weapons and equipment with parts made of metal are more often preserved than those of organic materials such as wood, leather, or textiles, which are found only in exceptional conditions, such as waterlogged soil (e.g., Vindolanda) or extreme aridity (Dura Europos). Images on gravestones or public monuments have often been used to reconstruct military equipment, and even to assign some to distinct units or ranks. Most notably, the Columns of Trajan and of Marcus Aurelius, the Arch of Constantine, and the “Altar of Domitius Ahenobarbus” relief in Paris shape our idea of the Roman military in the imperial period. It must always be kept in mind, however, that these representations are not 1:1 reproductions of the original equipment but are depictions that depended on the artists’ craftsmanship, their knowledge of actual equipment, the intentions of the clients who commissioned the works, and genre-specific factors. These images of Roman soldiers and their equipment must therefore be examined with a critical eye. For example, on Trajan’s column, all legionary ­soldiers are depicted with rectangular scuta (shields), which have since been regarded as standard items of legionary equipment. Yet the small number of actual finds of this type of shield



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makes it unlikely to have been standard equipment for the hundreds of thousands of legionary soldiers. On Trajan’s column, the clear allocation serves to better distinguish b ­ etween legionaries and auxiliaries, who are also depicted performing different activities. Of course, written sources (occasionally with illustrations) also give evidence for Roman militaria, as with the Notitia dignitatum or the works of Polybius and Arrian, which provide information, for example, on how weapons functioned and were used. At first glance, the preserved weaponry of the imperial period, whether offensive or defensive, seemed to convey a relatively homogeneous picture of the Roman army, and was generally classified into a small number of types that developed over time (Bishop and Coulston 1993; Waurick 1988; Miks 2007). This restriction of types (e.g., helmets) has previously been regarded as evidence of a “consistently organized central equipment policy” that “did not permit any special developments” (Toynbee and Clarke 1948, 21–22; Waurick 1988, 327). Therefore, the existence of a central armamentarium in Rome has been assumed, and even situated in the Castra Praetoria (Stoll 1998). Indeed, individual types of weapons, such as early legionary helmets of the so-called Hagenau type, seem to have been produced in relatively large numbers, suggesting some sort of mass production using interchangeable, standardized individual parts (Schreiter 1993, 44–45, Cat. Mil. 1–18; Bishop and Coulston 1993, 233–240). All known Hagenau type helmets resembled each other in shape; the sole possibility for varying design was in the crest that could be added and fixed by a crest-box holder, theoretically allowing some individual preference. There is no other evidence for this so far, since organic components of Roman militaria are very rarely preserved. On occasional specimens, however, the neck guard was decorated with a hallmark ornament, showing the wish for individual design and customization. In contrast, the surviving equipment of the Roman cavalry is far less uniform (Figure 6.4). Most pieces are more conspicuous and individually designed than those of foot soldiers, so much so that the more elaborate pieces, especially helmets featuring face masks, have often

Figure 6.4  Cavalry helmet with facemask from Ribchester. Photo by Rene Müller, LEIZA-Copy, Inv. 41670.

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been interpreted as “parade armor” (Garbsch 1978, 3–7). Yet most publications neither address why so many supposed pieces of parade armor have survived, compared to the few deemed actual combat equipment, nor what exactly distinguishes parade armor from that intended for combat use; instead, they follow the common assumption that all pieces of equipment that are more elaborate or decorated with precious metals were parade armor, not worn in battle. Robinson (1975) assigned helmets decorated with relief to three groups: combat helmets (98 fig. 296; 103 fig. 286), cavalry sports helmets (133–134 figs. 397–406), and officers’ helmets (139 fig. 140), without clearly defining what criteria he used for these assignments. Relevant works on the armament of the Roman army (e.g., Robinson 1975, 107; Garbsch 1978) use the terms “parade armor” or “cavalry sports equipment” inconsistently, so the distinction between what is generally named as parade armor and actual combat equipment is problematic, as will be discussed below.

Cavalry Helmets as a Case Study in Classifying Armor As we have seen, the elaborate helmets of the cavalry, especially those with face masks, with exceptional decoration such as hair (Waurick 1988), and those made of precious metal or decorated with gilding or silver (Figure 6.4; Garbsch 1978), have usually been associated with parades and tournaments. The interpretation as parade armor is often derived from a passage in Arrian’s Tactics (34.2–3): The horsemen themselves, as far as they stand out by their rank or distinguish themselves by special horsemanship, compete with gilded helmets of iron or bronze, to draw the eyes of the spectators to themselves. These helmets, unlike those intended for serious use, not only protect the head and cheeks, but are precisely adapted to the face on all sides, with an opening for the eyes that does not obstruct the view and yet protects them.

Though this is a very tempting explanation for the great variety and elaborate decoration of these helmets, it is methodologically questionable to use a text written around 136 ce as proof for such armor’s usage in the first century. As mentioned above, most modern studies of Roman armament give no clear definition of the characteristics of parade armor, aside from rich decoration. Nonetheless, Patrick Clay (Clay and Webster 1984, 236) was one of the first to note that regular service helmets, as well as those often classed as “parade” or “cavalry sports” armor, were also decorated, and some very elaborate pieces have been classed as combat equipment (Bishop and Coulston 2006, 142). Even according to Robinson (1975), a helmet with reliefdecorated cheek flaps from Nijmegen was combat equipment of a horseman, as were a relief cheek flap from Theilenhofen and a punch-decorated piece from South Shields. Still, a richly figurative helmet from a grave near Nawa, and decorated cheek flaps from the Waal, from Newstead, from Brough, from Corbridge, from Carlisle, from Mainz, and from Straubing were classed as parts of “cavalry sports helmets,” though there were no clear distinctions between the two groups. A closer examination of the finds and their contexts shows that very elaborate pieces were used in battle. One of the most prominent examples is the well-known silver-covered face mask from Kalkriese, lost there in one of the early military campaigns in the Augustan period. Junkelmann (1991, 164–165) concluded from this, as well as his experience with reworked militaria, that the so-called parade or sports helmets were used as regular body armor. Such helmets already appear in combat contexts more than a century before Arrian wrote of their use in equestrian games.



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First-century ce tombstones showing horsemen wearing face helmets often depict them in combat. Finds of elaborately decorated helmets are ubiquitous, and those found in graves are indistinguishable from those found in camp contexts. Moreover, most of the finds come from forts on the borders of the empire, where they were associated with other militaria intended for combat as well as other metal objects. That such helmets were also worn in battle is supported by experimental studies that analyzed and reconstructed ancient helmets and the ballistae that would have been aimed at them (Mejiers and Willer 2007); these vividly show that the face helmets were very effective in protecting the rider from fatal injuries. Any restriction by the small openings for the eyes, previously supposed to have hindered the rider’s vision, was already refuted by Junkelmann (1991, 172). That the decorative aspect played a special role for the riders is evident when looking at the finds. Arrian (Tactics, 34.4) also described “helmet bushes made of yellow hair, which have no practical purpose, but serve only for ornamentation,” but finds show particularly well that helmets with hair overlay were also worn in battle. The hair ornament had no protective function, yet visible as it was, it possessed a specific meaning for each horseman who chose it. All in all, the equipment of Roman cavalry shows much more variety and elaboration than that of Roman foot soldiers: its forms were less standardized and had very elaborate decoration, both organic and toreutic. Since the interpretation of the elaborate pieces as purely parade or sports armor has proved to be incorrect, there must be another explanation for this variety and rich decoration. The restriction to four types of battle helmets, including “parade helmets,” and the assumption made by Waurick (1988, 327) that Roman militaria was an “expression of a consistently organized central equipment policy… which did not permit any special developments,” can no longer hold, because these special developments existed in large numbers. As the previous explanatory model for rich, variously decorated cavalry helmets is not convincing, it is time to investigate the real reasons for these helmets’ diverse designs. Did they reflect the preferences of individuals, or were they an expression of a kind of esprit de corps, a certain consciousness of origin or status? Cavalrymen obviously had a great need to stand out in a special way. This is also shown in the decoration of the horse trappings (Bishop and Coulston 1993, 190–193; Fischer 2012, 216–220). If one looks for reasons to decorate one’s weapons richly and distinctively, the different origins of the auxiliaries might be one possibility: for example, the “fur helmets” of the first century ce (see below) seem to occur mainly in the Batavian area. It is notable in this context that none of the relevant publications on Roman armaments questions whether, or to what extent, the equipment of auxiliary cavalry differed from the equipment of legionary cavalry. Surviving cavalry equipment is usually connected to the auxiliary troops, but one must assume corresponding equipment for the legionary cavalry, even if legionary soldiers, especially in the first century, had a different cultural and social background than the horsemen who served in the auxiliary troops. So far, however, finds indicate that the equipment of legionary cavalry did not differ significantly from that of auxiliary cavalry. Elaboration was therefore related to the basic status of belonging to the cavalry and not derived from the origin of the soldiers or their ethnicity, as has often been postulated. As better-paid troops who fought in a different way than foot soldiers, the horsemen had a more individual self-image, which was apparently also reflected in the design of their armament. Then what promoted the elaboration and individuality among equestrian helmets, if it cannot be explained by the origin of the horsemen or their affiliation to a certain unit? One example that might help explicate the significance of helmet decorations for auxiliary cavalry is a fragment of a relief-decorated cheek flap, found at the auxiliary camp Burginatium on the Lower Rhine (Busch 2009). This bronze, formerly silver-plated, sheet metal overlay of the left cheek flap of a Weiler type cavalry helmet is decorated with two

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registers bordered by ornaments. The upper one depicts the goddess of Victory sacrificing a bull, a classical pictorial scheme uncommon on the Lower Rhine (though a gem with the same motif was found at Xanten), where considerably less complex motifs were usually used. In the lower register is the upper portion of a bearded male, identifiable as a sea deity (perhaps Oceanus or Neptune) by attributes of a crab claw and a dolphin. This unusual combination of two images shows the eclectic compositions typical of provincial Roman craftwork, which can also be found in other types of artifacts and civilian contexts (Webster 2001). This one cheek flap can also provide insights into the mechanisms of transmission of urban Roman images into the provinces. The sacrificing Victory motif had a tradition dating back several centuries, and was used across all genres of Roman art, public and private, since the Augustan period (Saxl 1931; Kunisch 1964, 31; Borbein 1968). The spread of the image was surely impelled by a coin series depicting the sacrificing Victory with the legend Armenia Capta, referring to Augustus’ successful eastern campaign of ca. 20 bce (Mattingly 1976, 108, no. 671). It then became enshrined in imperial projects and state art in Flavian and Trajanic Rome and Italy, and even found its way into private and sepulchral sculpture. What victory was meant, and whether this was already won or still desired, was left to the client and/or the craftsman who manufactured the piece (Borbein 1968). Although the motif seems particularly suitable for soldiers, there are no other examples on Roman militaria. More frequent are representations of Victory with a wreath or trophy of arms, or Mars or Minerva, all far less complex than the cheek flap from Burginatium. In contrast to the upper image, the sea god in the lower register of the cheek flap cannot be traced back to concrete models, and does not appear particularly meaningful in its context, on an equestrian helmet. Among the so-called parade armor, depictions of sea creatures are common, but sea deities do not usually appear (Klumbach 1974; Garbsch and Overbeck 1989). In any case, the combination of the two images is unusual, and probably due to a special request of the client; what he associated with it is beyond interpretation. In sum, the cheek flap from Burginatium is singular in its representation and conception. The division of the picture field into two parts occurs in the case of armor fittings, but has not yet been documented for cheek flaps. These were usually not decorated with mythological scenes (Bishop and Coulston 2006, 104–106), but with eagles, emblematic individual deities, or imperial portraits, either as static figures or busts. In its elaboration, however, the piece from Burginatium fits into the known spectrum, since almost thirty elaborate variants of equestrian helmets are preserved. Some were decorated with relief figures, while some had the calotte decorated with a coiffure worked in relief (Robinson 1975; von Prittwitz und Gaffron 1993; Künzl 1997). Of similar high quality were the aforementioned “fur helmets” for (perhaps Batavian) cavalry, which were decorated with elaborately braided horse hair, also worn with face masks (Kempkens 1993; Schalles 2007). Though these can be classed as two groups, all were elaborately designed equestrian helmets, and each piece was individually crafted and different from others. Simple undecorated helmets seem to have hardly existed among the cavalry, although organic additions such as hair are only rarely preserved or may not be detected due to overcleaning. With hundreds of publications on militaria, contextual data, and new (digital) methods, we hope to address new questions and come to a better understanding of standardization, use, reuse, technological knowledge transfer, resources, production (Bishop and Coulston 1993, 233–240; Gugl 2009), trade, and ownership of military equipment in the Roman Army.



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Supply In considering the significance and impact of the Roman military, supply for the army plays an important role, due to the huge number of people and their manifold needs; this was a significant economic factor for the entire Roman Empire, not just for the regions where the army was stationed. Numerous essays and books have been written on various aspects of this topic; a very good overview and starting point is the volume edited by Paul Erdkamp (2002). Supply had to be ensured for hundreds of thousands of soldiers stationed in a wide variety of locations and over long distances, sometimes in areas that were not well developed and/or lacking in resources. This was critical for the conquest and occupation of new territories as well as for stability at the borders of the empire. A special challenge was the supply of the army during military campaigns and other conflicts (Roth 1999), but even in “peaceful” times, it required an enormous logistical effort and the establishment of empire-wide supply networks, since the needs of even a single legion could usually not be covered by the local territory or province alone. For example, goods like olive oil had to be imported, sometimes over thousands of miles, from other provinces (Carreras 2002). Further, one must go beyond reckoning the logistical effort needed to supply food for ordinary soldiers of a single legion: officers and the commander had to be supplied with special food, drinks, and luxury goods, even to the borders of the empire. Spices and coconuts, for example, were imported to Britain via long-distance trade (Fulford 1991), and wine was imported from the Mediterranean island of Rhodes to the Lower Rhine and the legionary camp of Vetera I. Supply, however, meant not just food and drink, military equipment, and clothing, but building materials such as bricks, stones, and wood (also used for heating baths and fireplaces), the procurement or production of which – in the case of bricks, for example – was often carried out by the army itself (Schmitz 2002; Schaaff 2015). In Nijmegen, Xanten, and several other locations, brickyards run by legions have survived, and many others, even near Rome, are attested by legionary brick stamps. In addition, vessels and utensils (made of glass, metal, and pottery), furniture, textiles, and other objects needed to be brought for public buildings like the principia, valetudinaria, and baths, as well as for living quarters, ranging from the contubernia of the soldiers to more refined apartments and houses for the various ranks of officers, up to palaces for the generals. Just as we have had to correct our ideas about the appearance of the camps and the surrounding settlements, which were richly furnished in public parts and in the quarters of the higher ranks, we must also reckon with a much more lavish supply of expensive goods to those quarters.

Social Relations To fully understand the military as a social community among other social communities, and the complex relations and interdependence between the army and civilians, one must consider the soldiers’ diverse social lives and roles, which went far beyond their economic impact and their function of making the Roman Empire both secure and triumphant. Numerous epigraphic sources from all over the empire show that the individuals who served in the Roman army were not only soldiers but partners, husbands, fathers, sons, brothers, and masters (MacMullen 1963; Saller and Shaw 1984). Although this is not surprising, these different social identities and networks were generally not considered when historians and archaeologists analyzed soldiers’ monuments, inscriptions, literary references, or the archeological remains of the camps and canabae. Questions of the everyday life of military communities

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have also been neglected; being on military campaigns or at war was not as usual as one might think. Until recently, there was a lack of interest in both small finds and the private component of the soldier’s lives, although notable exceptions were the study of tombstones by Richard Saller and Brent Shaw (1984) and the examination of soldiers and society in Roman Egypt by Richard Alston (1995). In the 1990s, feminist scholars started to change the picture by bringing more attention to the topic (van Driel-Murray 1995, 1997, 1998; Allason-Jones 1999). By analyzing small finds and their contexts from Hadrian’s Wall and sites in Germany, they showed that there is—again, unsurprisingly—evidence for women’s presence within the camps and fortresses at the borders of the empire. While there was never doubt that the officers’ wives accompanied their husbands and lived with them in camp, women in relationships with lower-ranking soldiers sometimes even came along from their homelands, and most likely stayed in the surrounding civil settlements, or vici. Some contexts suggest that in times of crisis, women and children from the vici could even move into the fortresses. The greatest sources of enlightenment about the diverse social relationships of soldiers are inscriptions from tombstones, funerary altars, and votive altars. These give important insights not only into the forms of relationships in which soldiers lived with women but also the social relations, ethnic backgrounds, and cultural practices within the different military units, and their effects on the lives of the soldiers. To take the 1600 known military inscriptions from Rome as an example (Busch 2011), at least 317 mention women who were related to a soldier of the Rome garrisons, that is, almost 20% of the total. Legal marriages of soldiers (not only in Rome but all over the empire) were not possible until Septimius Severus reformed the laws prohibiting them (Smith 1972), but hundreds of monuments show that there were long-term stable unions between soldiers and women (Busch and Greene, forthcoming). In some cases, the women were not just mentioned on the monuments as either commemorators of their dead or as the deceased, but were depicted together with their partners, with their children, or alone (Figure 6.5). Over the centuries of inscriptional evidence, individuals’ names give evidence both for women who had the same provincial origins as their soldiers and presumably came to Rome with them, and women who had Italian names and might therefore be of Italian origin. On the Roman monuments, a female partner of a soldier is most often (166 examples) called coniunx, but adding the terms uxor and femina produces 183 couples; not insignificant, as many of the known examples do not mention the commemorator at all, or that part of the inscription is broken. Thus, the number was surely higher than we can determine now. By using the denomination coniunx or uxor, the woman could underline the fact that she was the legal heir of the deceased. The terms concubina, femina, liberta, and serva show a different range of social relations, which of course does not say anything about the closeness between the partners. It is not surprising that grave monuments of the praetorians and the cohortes urbanae, mostly recruited in Italy up to the end of the second century ce, show a stronger integration and more family relations than all of the other units that served in Rome. Apart from female partners, mothers and sisters are often mentioned. It is likely that they lived in the same city, as they are recorded as caring for the burial of the dead relative and/or the grave monument. Our Roman evidence for women related to units from abroad, such as the equites singulares Augusti, is relatively poor, especially considering the high number of their gravestones known. As these soldiers came from auxiliary troops in the provinces, they were not as well connected to civilians as the soldiers that originated in Italy. Their parents still lived in their homelands. Their funerary and votive monuments of the second century ce, which generally name other soldiers in the same unit as heirs or commemorators and rarely mention women, show more connections with their fellow soldiers than other soldiers' monuments, a separation also shown by their special cemetery and distinct type of gravestone. Almost all gravestones that mention or show women can be dated to the third century, after Severus’ reforms.



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Figure 6.5  Grave altar of P. Aelius Bassus, eques singularis, with a depiction of his wife behind his couch, from Rome. Photo by Gisela Geng.

The same situation affected the Germani corporis custodes, soldiers from the Lower Rhine who formed the emperor’s bodyguard. Most of their gravestones were set up by other members of the same unit, organized as a collegium Germanorum, the earliest evidence for a military collegium. This might indicate a lack of other social contacts; women played a minor role in their social network in Rome, and as with the equites singulares Augusti, they were far from their homelands and family who would care for their graves when they died during their service. We should also like to know what other social contacts soldiers had within communities, how they organized service and private life, and where their families lived. There were no houses for officers or tribunes in the Castra Praetoria. Comparing the size and extent of a camp’s barracks and that of households with wives, children, and even slaves documented by the inscriptions, it is clear that such soldiers’ families could not have lived in camp. But where did they live? Even if we are unable to locate them exactly, we know that there must have been military households spread over the whole city, most likely in the surroundings of the camps and stations. Another indicator would be the cemeteries where the women and children were

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buried, which must have been near the homes or zones of activity of the deceased, as we can see from other social groups. To sum up, there was a remarkable distinction in private relationships among the Rome garrisons. During the first two centuries ce, foreign soldiers relied more on their brothers-inarms, their commilitones, while the soldiers of Italian origin were more integrated into the civil world. In the case of the praetorian guards and the urban cohorts, their social networks included not only fellow soldiers and wives but other relatives like parents, brothers, and sisters. This difference was not just an effect of different social, cultural, and ethnic backgrounds, but depended on the period. After the Severan reform, we see an upswing in marriages, especially for the equites singulares. The soldiers that came to Rome at that time brought their wives with them into the empire’s capital.

Conclusion A single chapter on the significance and impact of the Roman military can never give a complete overview, but can provide a first step into the topic and illustrate the potential of the manifold aspects of the study of the military with chosen case studies. This great potential becomes especially apparent when one considers the growing number and distribution of reliably identified military sites established throughout the Roman Empire between the first and third centuries ce, as documented in the Gazetteer appended to this chapter. While some of these sites have been intensively studied, others are still terra incognita. The Roman military’s primary function was to conquer and occupy foreign territories: the soldiers fought wars, killed, subdued, and enslaved thousands of people over the centuries. But beyond this fact, this chapter has shown that there are manifold further aspects to consider when studying the impact of the Roman military. Its soldiers were also human beings with needs, different backgrounds, perspectives, mentalities, values, norms, and social relations. It is on these that the basis for holistic studies of the Roman military may be founded.

Acknowledgments In writing this chapter, I have been able to draw not only on my own research over the past twenty-three years but also on the outstanding and groundbreaking studies of distinguished colleagues who have enriched and improved our knowledge of the Roman military. The great abundance of their important essays, monographs, and congress volumes could not be adequately addressed in this brief chapter. So I would like to take this opportunity to sincerely thank not only the esteemed colleagues mentioned here but also those whose work I was not able to cite, but whose stimulating discussions and friendly exchanges at the Roman Military Equipment Conference, the LIMES Congress, and other occasions since 2000 have greatly enriched my own work and perspectives over the years. Special thanks are due to Florian Schimmer, Samantha Beck, Anja Cramer, Benjamin Streubel, Michael Ober, and Vera Kassühlke, who worked on the compilation of the first georeferenced Gazetteer of Roman military sites and its visualization in maps, appended here. Florian Schimmer not only coordinated the project but did by far the largest part of the research work and realized the Gazetteer in close consultation with me. The fact that this chapter was able to come into being and find its way into this wonderful book, despite many years of repeated delays resulting from various obligations and management activities at LEIZA, is thanks to the friendly and motivating encouragement, the great support, and extraordinary patience of the editor, Barbara Burrell, to whom I am infinitely grateful.



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Biographical Note Alexandra W. Busch studied at the University of Cologne and received her PhD in 2004. After a travel scholarship of the German Archaeological Institute (DAI), she worked at the LVR-Archaeological Park Xanten, then became senior researcher at the DAI Rome. In 2014, Busch joined the Römisch-Germanisches Zentralmuseum, now Leibniz-Zentrum für Archäologie, as Research Director for Roman Archaeology; she became Director General in 2018, and professor of Roman Archaeology at the Johannes Gutenberg University, Mainz.

REFERENCES Aglietti, Silvia, and Alexandra W. Busch. 2013. “Il progetto ‘Dalla villa ai castra’ del DAI ad Albano: Aggiornamenti e nuove ricerche.” In Lazio e Sabina 9. Convegno Roma 2012, edited by Giuseppina Ghini and Zaccaria Mari, 267–275. Rome: Edizioni Quasar. Allason-Jones, Lindsay. 1997. “The Women of Roman Maryport.” In Roman Maryport and Its Setting, edited by Roger John Anthony Wilson, 105–111. Maryport: Cumberland & Westmoreland Antiquarian & Archaeological Society. Allason-Jones, Lindsay. 1999. “Women and the Roman Army in Britain.” In The Roman Army as a Community, Journal of Roman Archaeology Supplementary Series 34, edited by Adrian Goldsworthy and Ian Haynes, 41–51. Portsmouth, RI: Journal of Roman Archaeology. Allison, Penelope Mary. 2006. “Mapping for Gender. Interpreting Artefact Distribution Inside 1st- and 2nd-century A.D. Forts in Roman Germany.” Archaeological Dialogues, 13, no. 1: 1–20. Allison, Penelope Mary. 2011. “Soldiers’ Families in the Early Roman Empire.” In A Companion to Families in the Greek and Roman Worlds, edited by Beryl Rawson, 161–182. Malden: Wiley-Blackwell. Allison, Penelope Mary. 2013. People and Spaces in Military Bases. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Alston, Richard. 1995. Soldier and Society in Roman Egypt: A Social History. London: Routledge. Bechert, Tillmann. 1971. “Römische Lagertore und ihre Bauinschriften.” Bonner Jahrbücher, 171: 201–287. Bidwell, Paul, Roger Miket, and Bill Ford, eds. 1988. Portae cum turribus. Studies of Roman Fort Gates. British Archaeological Reports British Series 206. Oxford: BAR. Bishop, Mike C., and Jon C.N. Coulston. 1993. Roman Military Equipment from the Punic Wars to the Fall of Rome. London: Batsford. Bishop, Mike C., and Jon C.N. Coulston. 2006. Roman Military Equipment from the Punic Wars to the Fall of Rome, 2nd ed. Oxford: Oxbow. Borbein, Adolf Heinrich. 1968. Campanareliefs. Typologische und stilkritische Untersuchungen. Römische Mitteilungen Ergänzungsheft 14. Heidelberg: Kerle. Brun, Jean-Pierre, and Hélène Cuvigny. 2011. Didymoi: une garnison romaine dans le désert oriental d’Égypte. Praesidia du désert de Bérénice IV, I. Les fouilles et le matériel. Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Busch, Alexandra W. 2007. “Militia in Urbe – The Military Presence in Rome.” In The Impact of the Roman Army (200 BC–AD 476): Economic, Social, Political, Religious and Cultural Aspects, edited by Lukas de Blois and Oliver Hekster, 314–341. Leiden: Brill. Busch, Alexandra W. 2009. “Viktoria auf der Wangenklappe – Klassische Bildmotive auf frühkaiserzeitlichen Militaria.” In Grabung – Forschung – Präsentation Sammelband, 15, edited by Martin Müller and Xantener Berichte, 329–346. Mainz: Philipp von Zabern. Busch, Alexandra W. 2011. Militär in Rom. Militärische und paramilitärische Einheiten im kaiserzeitlichen Stadtbild. Palilia 20. Wiesbaden: Reichert. Online catalogue of inscriptions accessed 16 July 2023: https:// arachne.dainst.org/project/palilia20Grabdenkmaeler Busch, Alexandra W. 2013. “Kaiserzeitliche Wehrarchitektur im Zentrum des römischen Reiches.” In Römische Wehrbauten. Befund und Rekonstruktion: Kolloquiumsband, edited by Christof Flügel and Jürgen Obmann, 112–131. Munich: Volk Verlag. Busch, Alexandra W., and Silvia Aglietti. 2011. “Dalla villa imperiale ai Castra Albana: le nuove ricerche del DAI sull’accampamento della legione II Parthica e sui suoi dintorni.” In Lazio e Sabina 7: Atti del Convegno,

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Gazetteer of Roman Military Camps and Fortresses by Florian Schimmer, Samantha Beck, Anja Cramer, Benjamin Streubel, and Alexandra W. Busch

The impact and significance of the Roman military becomes very evident when we consider upscaling all data from any one military site (e.g., on its supply systems) to more than 800 other sites in the Roman Empire. Despite the numerous publications on limites and military camps, a georeferenced compilation of all known military sites of the first to third century ce, organized by province or region, has not yet been compiled. In order to illustrate the great influence and importance the military had in almost all parts of the Roman Empire over hundreds of years, the following Gazetteer, in the same geographical order as this Companion, with three illustrations showing chronological development (Figures 6.6-6.8) and a unified image (Figure 6.9), was developed for this chapter by a working group of the LeibnizZentrum für Archäologie (LEIZA). It is meant as a service to the community of scholars of the Roman military, and should enable further research. An online version of the Gazetteer will soon be accessible via the digital offerings of LEIZA, and will be updated and enriched in cooperation with all interested colleagues. Legionary bases and vexillation forts Modern country

Province Ancient name Modern name (early 2nd c.)

Spatial reference

Italy

Italia

DARE 22201

1st c. 2nd c. 3rd c.

Castra Albana

Albano Laziale

x

x

Eining-Unterfeld DARE 16064

x

Castra Regina

Regensburg

x

Albing

DARE 10952

x

x

Lauriacum

Enns-Lorch

DARE 16

x

x

Ločica ob Savinji

Pleiades 197072

x

Germany

Raetia

Germany

Raetia

Austria

Noricum

Austria

Noricum

Slovenia

Noricum

Austria

Pannonia superior

Carnuntum

Bad DeutschAltenburg

DARE 10871

x

x

x

Hungary

Pannonia superior

Brigetio

Komárom-Szőny

DARE 10899

x

x

x

DARE 12

x



The Military 117

Legionary bases and vexillation forts Modern country

Province Ancient name Modern name (early 2nd c.)

Spatial reference

1st c. 2nd c. 3rd c.

Slovenia

Pannonia superior

Poetovio

Ptuj

DARE 10719

x

Croatia

Pannonia superior

Siscia

Sisak

DARE 10771

x

Austria

Pannonia superior

Vindobona

Vienna

DARE 26674

x

x

x

Hungary

Pannonia inferior

Aquincum

Budapest

DARE 26359

x

x

x

Mušov-Burgstall (operation base)

DARE 26511

Czech Republic

x

Bulgaria

Moesia superior

Ratiaria

Archar

DARE 10897

x

x

x

Serbia

Moesia superior

Singidunum

Beograd

iDAI 2087254 x

x

x

Serbia

Moesia superior

Margum

Dubravica

DARE 26420

x

Serbia

Moesia superior

Viminacium

Kostolac

Pleiades 207549

x

x

x

Romania

Moesia Superior

Schela Cladovei

DARE 34867

x

Bulgaria

Moesia inferior

Oescus

Gigen

DARE 21378

x

x

x

Romania

Moesia inferior

Troesmis

Igliţa, Turcoaia

DARE 21390

x

Bulgaria

Moesia inferior

Durostorum

Silistra

DARE 18988

x

x

Bulgaria

Moesia inferior

Novae

Svishtov

DARE 21377

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Apulum

Alba Julia

DARE 21776

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Berzobis, Bersobis

Berzovia

DARE 22617

x

Romania

Dacia

Sarmizegetusa

Sarmizegetusa

DARE 19910

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Potaissa

Turda

DARE 21775

Croatia

Dalmatia

Tilurium

Gardun

DARE 13878

x x

x

x

Croatia

Dalmatia

Burnum

Kistanje

DARE 13907

Turkey

Cappadocia

Melitene

Eski Malatya

iDAI 2290557 x

x

x

Turkey

Cappadocia

Satala

Sadak

Pleiades 874684

x

x

Turkey

Cappadocia

Trapezus

Trabzon

Pleiades 857359

x

Syria

Syria

Apamea

Afamiyah

DARE 21507

x

x

(Continued)

118

Alexandra W. Busch

Legionary bases and vexillation forts 1st c. 2nd c. 3rd c.

Modern country

Province Ancient name Modern name (early 2nd c.)

Spatial reference

Syria

Syria

Cyrrhus

Aleppo

Pleiades 658446

x

Turkey

Syria

Antiochia

Antakya

Pleiades 658381

x

Syria

Syria

Bostra

Bosra

iDAI 2280349

Syria

Syria

Raphanaea

Rafniye

DARE 23425

x

x

x

x

x

Turkey

Syria

Samosata

Samsat

DARE 21238

x

x

x

Turkey

Syria

Zeugma

Zeugma

iDAI 2280310 x

x

x

Iraq

Mesopotamia Singara

Balad Sinjar

DARE 21829

x

x

Ras al-Ain

Pleiades 874662

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

Syria

Mesopotamia Resaina

Israel

Iudaea

Hierosolyma/ Jerusalem Aelia Capitolina

DARE 15896

Israel

Iudaea

Legio Capercotani

Tel Megiddo

DARE 21660

Egypt

Aegyptus

Nicopolis, Parembole

Alexandria

DARE 15898

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

Babylon

Cairo

DARE 21140

x

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

Thebae

Luxor, Al Uqsur

DARE 34480

x

x

Tunisia

Africa Ammaedara proconsularis

Haïdra

iDAI 2426207 x

Algeria

Africa Theveste proconsularis

Tébessa

DARE 21643

Algeria

Numidia

Tazoult

DARE 21644

Spain

Hispania Asturica Tarraconensis

Astorga

DARE 13698

Spain

Hispania Pisoraca Tarraconensis

Herrera de Pisuerga

iDAI 2074484 x

Spain

Hispania Legio (VII Tarraconensis Gemina)

León

iDAI 2099228 x

Spain

Hispania Petavonium Tarraconensis

Rosinos de Vidriales

Pleiades 236598

Lambaesis

x

x

Anreppen

DARE 18178

x

Haltern am See

DARE 18019

x

Marktbreit

DARE 18686

x

Mainz

DARE 3

x

Mirebeau-surBèze

DARE 18091

x

Rottweil

Pleiades 118572

x

Germany France

Germania superior

Germany

Germania superior

Mogontiacum

Arae Flaviae

x

x

x

x

x

x

Germany

Germania superior

x x

Germany Germany

x



The Military 119

Legionary bases and vexillation forts Modern country

Province Ancient name Modern name (early 2nd c.)

Spatial reference

1st c. 2nd c. 3rd c.

France

Germania superior

Argentorate

Strasbourg

DARE 17

x

x

Switzerland

Germania superior

Vindonissa

Windisch

DARE 23

x

x

Germany

Germania inferior

Bonna

Bonn

DARE 527

x

x

Germany

Germania inferior

Apud Aram Ubiorum

Köln

DARE 299

x

Germany

Germania inferior

Novaesium

Neuss

DARE 532

x

Netherlands

Germania inferior

Noviomagus

NijmegenHunerberg

DARE 26452

x

x

Germany

Germania inferior

Vetera (I-II)

Xanten

DARE 898

x

x

x

Wales

Britannia

Isca Silurum

Caerleon

DARE 20687

Scotland

Britannia

Horrea Classis

Carpow

Pleiades 89136

England

Britannia

Deva

Chester

DARE 20684

x

England

Britannia

Noviomagus Regnorum

Chichester

DARE 20677

x

England

Britannia

Camulodunum Colchester

DARE 20678

x

England

Britannia

Coriosopitum

Pleiades 89152 x

Britannia

Isca Exeter Dumnoniorum

DARE 20688

x

Glevum

Gloucester

DARE 20686

x

Kingsholm

DARE 39003

x

England England

Britannia

England

Britannia

England

Britannia

England

Britannia

England

Britannia

England

Britannia

England

Britannia

Lindum

Corbridge

Lake Farm

DARE 25702

x

Lincoln

DARE 20691

x

Longthorpe

DARE 23059

x

DARE 23038

x

Newton-on-Trent DARE 25473

x

Manduessedum Mancetter

England

Britannia

Osmanthorpe

Pleiades 28699541

England

Britannia

Rhyn Park

DARE 38892

Richborough

Pleiades 79664

England

Britannia

England

Britannia

England

Britannia

England

Britannia

Rutupiae

x x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

Rossington Bridge DARE 26326

x

Calleva Atrebatum

Silchester

DARE 20682

x

Lactodurum

Towcester

Pleiades 79552 x

Wales

Britannia

Burrium

Usk

DARE 21362

x

England

Britannia

Viroconium

Wroxeter

DARE 20700

x

England

Britannia

Eboracum

Scotland

x

York

DARE 20679

x

Inchtuthil

DARE 22989

x

x

x (Continued)

120

Alexandra W. Busch

Auxiliary forts Modern country

Province Ancient name (early 2nd c.)

Germany

Raetia

Germany

Raetia

Alae

Modern name

Spatial reference

Aalen

Pleiades 118537

1st c.

2nd c. 3rd c. x

Aislingen

DARE 1923

x

Augsburg

Pleiades 118580

x

x

Germany

Raetia

Augusta Vindelicum

Austria

Raetia

Brigantium

Bregenz

DARE 350

x

Germany

Raetia

Submuntorium

Burghöfe

DARE 1924

x

x

Germany

Raetia

Burladingen

DARE 18432

x

x

Germany

Raetia

Böhming

Pleiades 118603

x

x

Germany

Raetia

Dambach

DARE 2181

x

x

Germany

Raetia

Eining

Pleiades 118539

x

x

x

Germany

Raetia

Emerkingen

DARE 1920

x

Germany

Raetia

Phoebiana

Faimingen

DARE 1973

x

x

Germany

Raetia

Mediana

Gnotzheim

Pleiades 118840

x

x

Germany

Raetia

Gomadingen

DARE 2183

x

x

Germany

Raetia

Guntia

Günzburg

DARE 45616

x

x

Germany

Raetia

Aquileia

Heidenheim

DARE 45747

x

x

Germany

Raetia

Brigobannis

Hüfingen

DARE 1916

x

IngolstadtZuchering

DARE 41797

x

x

Abusina

x

Germany

Raetia

Germany

Raetia

Germanicum

Kösching

Pleiades 118697

x

x

x

Germany

Raetia

Quintana

Künzing

Pleiades 118919

x

x

x

Germany

Raetia

Mengen-Ennetach DARE 1919

x

Germany

Raetia

Moos-Burgstall

DARE 3407

x

x

Germany

Raetia

Losodica

Munningen

Pleiades 118815

x

x

Germany

Raetia

Vicus Scuttarensium

Nassenfels

DARE 1926

x

Germany

Raetia

Opia

Oberdorf

DARE 8100

x

x

Germany

Raetia

Oberstimm

DARE 16063

x

x

Germany

Raetia

Passau-Altstadt

DARE 14

Batavis

Germany

Raetia

Celeusum

Pförring

Pleiades 118628

Germany

Raetia

Vetoniana

Pfünz

Pleiades 119020

Germany

Raetia

Rainau-Buch

DARE 14060

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x



The Military 121

Auxiliary forts Modern country

Province Ancient name (early 2nd c.)

Modern name

Spatial reference

1st c.

2nd c. 3rd c.

Germany

Raetia

Reginum

RegensburgKumpfmühl

Pleiades 118791

x

x

Germany

Raetia

Riusiava?

Rißtissen

DARE 1921

x

x

Germany

Raetia

Ruffenhofen

DARE 2180

Germany

Raetia

Schirenhof

DARE 14057

Germany

Raetia

Sorviodurum

Straubing

DARE 1957

Germany

Raetia

Iciniacum

Theilenhofen

Pleiades 118758

Germany

Raetia

Tuttlingen

DARE 1918

Germany

Raetia

Unterböbingen

DARE 2178

Germany

Raetia

Unterkirchberg

DARE 2186

x

Germany

Raetia

Ad Lunam

Urspring

DARE 1972

x

x

Germany

Raetia

Biriciana

Weißenburg

DARE 4608

x

x

x

Austria

Noricum

Ad Mauros

Eferding

DARE 10778

x

x

x

Austria

Noricum

Lentia

Linz

DARE 7140

x

x

x

Austria

Noricum

Favianis

Mautern

DARE 6141

x

x

x

Germany

Noricum

Boiodurum

Passau-Innstadt

DARE 1971

x

x

x

Austria

Noricum

Arelape

Pöchlarn

DARE 10780

x

x

Austria

Noricum

Ioviacum

Schlögen

DARE 10781

Austria

Noricum

St. Pantaleon-Stein Vici 63068

x

x

Austria

Noricum

Augustianis

Traismauer

DARE 5657

x

x

x

Austria

Noricum

Comagena

Tulln

DARE 13124

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x x

Austria

Noricum

Ad Iuvense

Wallsee

Pleiades 118541

Austria

Noricum

Canabiaca

Zeiselmauer

Pleiades 128375

x

x

x

Austria

Noricum

Asturis

Zwentendorf

DARE 10805

x

x

x

Hungary

Pannonia superior

Odiavum, Azaum

Almásfüzitő

DARE 10902

x

x

Hungary

Pannonia superior

Cirpi

Dunabogdány – Várad

DARE 10905

x

x

x

Hungary

Pannonia superior

Solva

Esztergom – Várhegy

DARE 10842

x

x

x

Austria

Pannonia superior

Aequinoctium

Fischamend

DARE 10870

x

x

Hungary

Pannonia superior

Arrabona

GyőrKáptalandomb

DARE 10840

x

x

Austria

Pannonia superior

Höflein

DARE 14193

x

x

Slovakia

Pannonia superior

Iža-Leányvár

DARE 10901

x

x

Celamantia

x

(Continued)

122

Alexandra W. Busch

Auxiliary forts Modern country

Province Ancient name (early 2nd c.)

Austria

Pannonia superior

Hungary

Pannonia superior

Hungary

Modern name Klosterneuburg

Spatial reference

1st c.

2nd c. 3rd c.

DARE 10867

x

x

x

Ad Flexum

Mosonmagyaróvár DARE 10843

x

x

x

Pannonia superior

Crumerum

Nyergesújfalu – Sánc-hegy

DARE 10857

x

x

Hungary

Pannonia superior

Ad Herculem

Pilismarót

DARE 10904

Hungary

Pannonia superior

Gerulata

Rusovce

DARE 10921

Austria

Pannonia superior

Ala Nova

Schwechat

DARE 10869

Austria

Pannonia superior

Strebersdorf (3 forts)

Pleiades 879938387

Hungary

Pannonia superior

Ad Mures

Ács–Bumbumkút DARE 10873

Hungary

Pannonia superior

Ad Statuas

Ács–Vaspuszta

DARE 10900

Hungary

Pannonia Inferior

Vetus Salina

Adony

Serbia

Pannonia Inferior

Bononia

Hungary

Pannonia Inferior

Croatia

x x

x

x

x x x

x

x

x

x

Pleiades 197580

x

x

x

Banoštor

DARE 10864

x

x

x

Annamatia

Baracspuszta

Pleiades 197118

x

x

x

Pannonia Inferior

Ad Militare

Batina Skela

DARE 10912

x

x

x

Hungary

Pannonia Inferior

Aquincum

BudapestAlbertfalva

DARE 13792

x

x

x

Hungary

Pannonia Inferior

Transaquincum

Budapest-Pest

DARE 16089

x

x

Hungary

Pannonia Inferior

Contra Aquincum

Budapest-5th district

DARE 16088

x

x

Hungary

Pannonia Inferior

Aquincum

BudapestVíziváros

DARE 26358

x

x

Croatia

Pannonia Inferior

Teutoburgium

Dalj

Pleiades 197551

x

x

x

Hungary

Pannonia Inferior

Lussonium

Dunakömlőd

Pleiades 197362

x

x

x

Hungary

Pannonia Inferior

Lugio/Florentia

Dunaszekcső -Várhegy

DARE 10856

x

x

x

Hungary

Pannonia Inferior

Intercisa

Dunaújváros

Pleiades 197323

x

x

x

Croatia

Pannonia Inferior

Cuccium

Ilok

Pleiades 207058

x

x

x



The Military 123

Auxiliary forts Modern country

Province Ancient name (early 2nd c.)

Modern name

Spatial reference

1st c.

2nd c. 3rd c.

Croatia

Pannonia Inferior

Albanum?

Lug

DARE 13807

Hungary

Pannonia Inferior

Altinum

Mohács-Kölked

Pleiades 197110

x

x

x

Hungary

Pannonia Inferior

Campona

Nagytétény

DARE 10906

x

x

x

Serbia

Pannonia Inferior

Burgenae

Novi Banovci

DARE 17945

x

x

x

Croatia

Pannonia Inferior

Mursella, Mursa Minor

Petrijevci

Pleiades 197391

x

x

Serbia

Pannonia Inferior

Cusum

Petrovaradin

DARE 10915

x

x

x

Croatia

Pannonia Inferior

Cornacum

Sotin

Pleiades 197227

x

x

x

Serbia

Pannonia Inferior

Acumincum

Stari Slankamen

DARE 10917

x

x

x

Serbia

Pannonia Inferior

Rittium

Surduk

DARE 10918

x

x

x

Hungary

Pannonia Inferior

Ulcisia Castra

Szentendre

DARE 10851

x

x

Hungary

Pannonia Inferior

Matrica

Százhalombatta

Pleiades 197372

x

x

x

Hungary

Pannonia Inferior

Alta Ripa

Tolna

DARE 10909

x

x

x

Hungary

Pannonia Inferior

Alisca

Tolna-Őcsény

Pleiades 197103

x

x

Hungary

Pannonia Inferior

Ad Statuas

Várdomb

DARE 10910

x

x

Serbia

Pannonia Inferior

Taurunum

Zemun

DARE 10920

x

x

Croatia

Pannonia Inferior

Ad Novas

Zmajevac

DARE 10913

x

x

Serbia

Moesia Superior

Translederata

Banatska Palanka

DARE 21319

x

Romania

Moesia Superior

Batoţi

DARE 34712

x

Serbia

Moesia Superior

Brza Palanka

DARE 23256

x

x

Romania

Moesia Superior

Desa

DARE 33458

x

x

Serbia

Moesia Superior

Donji Milanovac, DARE 22992 Veliki Gradac

x

x

x

Romania

Moesia Superior

Drobeta-Turnu Severin

x

x

x

Egeta

Taliata

DARE 43658

x

x

x

(Continued)

124

Alexandra W. Busch

Auxiliary forts Modern country

Province Ancient name (early 2nd c.)

Modern name

Spatial reference

1st c.

2nd c. 3rd c.

Bulgaria

Moesia Superior

Florentiana

Florentin

DARE 34853

x

Serbia

Moesia Superior

Cuppae

Golubac

DARE 23253

x

Serbia

Moesia Superior

Diana?, Caput Bovis?

Karataš

DARE 21376

x

x

x

Serbia

Moesia Superior

Zanes?

Kladovo

DARE 21376

x

x

x

Serbia

Moesia Superior

Pontes

Kostol

DARE 34855

x

x

x

Serbia

Moesia Superior

Ad Sextum

Mali Mokri Lug

DARE 26419

x

x

Serbia

Moesia Superior

Clevora?

Mihailovac

DARE 23257

x

x

Serbia

Moesia Superior

Gerulatis

Miroč

DARE 23255

x

x

Bulgaria

Moesia Superior

Novo Selo

DARE 45581

x

x

Romania

Moesia Superior

Dierna

Orşova

DARE 45547

x

x

Bulgaria

Moesia Superior

Remetodia

Oršolja

DARE 23317

x

x

Serbia

Moesia Superior

Aquae

Prahovo

DARE 22991

x

x

x

Serbia

Moesia Superior

Timacum Minus

Ravna

DARE 22691

x

x

x

Serbia

Moesia Superior

Tricornium

Ritopek

DARE 21371

x

x

x

Serbia

Moesia Superior

Aureus Mons

Seona

DARE 23229

x

x

x

Serbia

Moesia Superior

Ducis Pratum?, Caput Bovis?

Sip

DARE 34720

x

x

x

Serbia

Moesia Superior

Stojnik

DARE 26417

x

x

Serbia

Moesia Superior

Tekija

DARE 34873

x

x

x

Serbia

Moesia Superior

Vajuga

DARE 34877

x

x

x

Serbia

Moesia Superior

Pincum

Veliko Gradište

DARE 26445

x

Bulgaria

Moesia Superior

Bononia

Vidin

DARE 10896

x

x

x

Serbia

Moesia Superior

Oktabon

Višnjica

Pleiades 207319

x

Transdierna?

x

x

x



The Military 125

Auxiliary forts Modern country

Province Ancient name (early 2nd c.)

Modern name

Spatial reference

1st c.

2nd c. 3rd c.

Bulgaria

Moesia Superior

Dorticum

Vrav

DARE 23258

x

x

Bulgaria

Moesia Superior

Romulanium?

Yasen

DARE 34826

x

x

Serbia

Moesia Superior

Novae

Čezava

DARE 34847

x

x

x

Serbia

Moesia Superior

Železnik potok

Pleiades 207585

x

x

Bulgaria

Moesia Inferior

Dimum

Belene

DARE 22301

Romania

Moesia Inferior

Cimbrianis

Canlia

DARE 34186

x

x

Romania

Moesia Inferior

Dervent

DARE 34196

x

x

Bulgaria

Moesia Inferior

Valeriana

Dolni Vadin

DARE 34237

Romania

Moesia Inferior

Sacidava

Dunăreni

DARE 22382

x

x

Romania

Moesia Inferior

Barboşi

Galaţi

DARE 34895

x

x

Romania

Moesia Inferior

Dinogetia

Garvăn, Jijila

DARE 21783

x

x

Bulgaria

Moesia Inferior

Cebrum

Gorni Tsibar

DARE 36466

x

x

Bulgaria

Moesia Inferior

Pedoniana

Gorni Vadin

DARE 23315

x

x

Bulgaria

Moesia Inferior

Augustae

Harlets

DARE 22300

x

x

x

Romania

Moesia Inferior

Carsium

Hârşova

DARE 22297

x

x

x

Romania

Moesia Inferior

Noviodunum

Isaccea

DARE 21786

x

x

x

Romania

Moesia Inferior

Sucidava

Izvoarele

DARE 23324

x

x

Bulgaria

Moesia Inferior

Regianum

Kozloduj?

Pleiades 216955

x

x

Bulgaria

Moesia Inferior

Camistrum

Kozloduy

DARE 43700

x

x

Bulgaria

Moesia Inferior

Iatrus

Krivana

Pleiades 216846

Bulgaria

Moesia Inferior

Variana

Leskovets

DARE 34238

x

x

Romania

Moesia Inferior

Salsovia

Mahmudia

DARE 21787

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

(Continued)

126

Alexandra W. Busch

Auxiliary forts Modern country

Province Ancient name (early 2nd c.)

Bulgaria

Moesia Inferior

Nigrinianis, Candidiana

Romania

Moesia Inferior

Romania

Modern name Malak Preslavets

Spatial reference

1st c.

2nd c. 3rd c.

DARE 43675

x

x

x

Halmyris, Salmorus Murighiol

DARE 21792

x

x

x

Moesia Inferior

Arrubium

Măcin

DARE 34892

x

x

x

Romania

Moesia Inferior

Altinum

Oltina

DARE 22381

x

x

Romania

Moesia Inferior

Flaviana

Rasova

DARE 45543

x

x

Bulgaria

Moesia Inferior

Appiaria

Rjahovo

DARE 23322

x

x

x

Bulgaria

Moesia Inferior

Sexaginta Prista

Ruse

DARE 22302

x

Romania

Moesia Inferior

Seimeni

DARE 34227

x

x

Bulgaria

Moesia Inferior

Durostorum

Silistra

Pleiades 216800

x

x

Bulgaria

Moesia Inferior

Pompdiana

Stanevo

DARE 23316

x

x

Romania

Moesia Inferior

Capidava

Topalu

DARE 21790

x

x

Romania

Moesia Inferior

Troesmis

Turcoaia

Pleiades 217025

x

x

Bulgaria

Moesia Inferior

Transmarisca

Tutrakan

DARE 22303

x

x

Bulgaria

Moesia Inferior

Utum, Utus

Utum

DARE 23318

x

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Albota

DARE 34889

Romania

Dacia

Aradul Nou

DARE 23734

x

Romania

Dacia

Bologa

Pleiades 207385

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Boroșneu Mare

DARE 45536

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Brețcu

DARE 26798

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Brâncovenești

DARE 26789

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Buciumi

DARE 22999

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Bulci

DARE 23733

x

Romania

Dacia

Bumbești

Pleiades 206999

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Cigmău

DARE 23236

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Cristești

DARE 26786

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Călugăreni, Mikháza

DARE 26787

x

x

Resculum

Germisara

x



The Military 127

Auxiliary forts Modern country Romania

Province Ancient name (early 2nd c.) Dacia

Ad Mutriam

Modern name

Spatial reference

1st c.

2nd c. 3rd c.

Cătunele

DARE 21837

x x

Romania

Dacia

Samum

Cășeiu

Pleiades 207419

Romania

Dacia

Acidava

Enoșești

DARE 34887

x

Romania

Dacia

Feldioara

DARE 34199

x

Romania

Dacia

Fârliug

DARE 23231

x

Romania

Dacia

Gherla

DARE 23004

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Gilău

DARE 23001

x

x

Serbia

Dacia

Grebenac

DARE 21320

x

Romania

Dacia

Hoghiz

DARE 26795

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Arcobara

Ilișua

DARE 26791

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Praetoria Augusta

Inlăceni

DARE 26792

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Pons Aluti

Ioneștii Govorei

DARE 23246

x

Romania

Dacia

Islaz-Racoviță

DARE 34208

x

Romania

Dacia

Jidava, Câmpulung DARE 34209

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Jupa

DARE 23730

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Livezile

DARE 45539

x

Romania

Dacia

Praetorium

Mehadia

DARE 26781

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Porolissum

Moigrad, Mirşid

DARE 21778

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Aeropolis

Odorheiu Secuiesc DARE 26793

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Olteni

DARE 34213

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Orheiu Bistriței

DARE 26790

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Orăștioara de Sus DARE 34849

x

Romania

Dacia

Pinoasa

DARE 34881

x

Romania

Dacia

Pojejena

DARE 34854

x

Romania

Dacia

Praetorium II

Racovița

DARE 34193

x

Romania

Dacia

Romula – Malva

Reșca

DARE 22993

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Certinae

Romita

DARE 22997

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Largiana

Românași

DARE 22996

x

x

Rumänien

Dacia

Largiana

Românași

DARE 22996

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Rucăr

DARE 34224

x

Romania

Dacia

Râșnov

DARE 26797

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Răcarii de Jos

DARE 26796

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Războieni-Cetate DARE 34859

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Sighișoara

DARE 40688

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Slăveni

DARE 34228

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Buridava

Stolniceni

DARE 40672

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Centum Putei

Surducu Mare

DARE 23230

Aizis

Tibiscum

Bucium

Cumidava

Stenarum

x

x

x

x (Continued)

128

Alexandra W. Busch

Auxiliary forts Modern country

Province Ancient name (early 2nd c.)

Modern name

Spatial reference

1st c.

2nd c. 3rd c.

Romania

Dacia

Optatiana

Sutoru

DARE 22998

x

Hungary

Dacia

Partiscum

Szeged

DARE 17975

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Sărățeni

DARE 26788

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Ad Pannonios

Teregova

DARE 23250

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Tihavu

Tihău

DARE 23002

x

x

Romania

Dacia

Micia

Vețel

DARE 21317

x

x

Serbia

Dacia

Vršac

DARE 23731

x

Romania

Dacia

Vârtop

DARE 34880

x

Romania

Dacia

Arcidava

Vărădia

DARE 21318

x

Romania

Dacia

Acmonia?

Zăvoi

DARE 23233

x

Turkey

Cappadocia

Eski Hisar

Pleiades 658462

x

x

x

Turkey

Cappadocia

Charmodara

Kocan

Pleiades 658436

x

x

x

Turkey

Cappadocia

Dascusa

Pağnik?

Pleiades 628963

x

x

x

Turkey

Cappadocia

Zimara

Pingan?

Pleiades 629106

x

x

x

Turkey

Cappadocia

Ad Aras

Pirot?

Pleiades 628918

x

x

x

Turkey

Cappadocia

Trapezus

Trabzon

Pleiades 857359

x

x

x

Turkey

Cappadocia

Haris

Yurtbaşı/Melik Şerif

Pleiades 305820069

x

x

x

Turkey

Cappadocia

Sabus

Çit Harabe

Pleiades 629065

x

x

Turkey

Hyssou Limen

Araklıçarşısı

DARE 36169

x

x

Georgia

Apsarus?

Gonio

Pleiades 857032

x

x

x

Georgia

Phasis

Patara Poti

Pleiades 857265

x

x

x

Georgia

Sebastopolis

Sukhumi

Pleiades 857107

x

x

x

x

Syria

Syria

Ed-Dumer, Khan Pleiades Aiyash 678235

x

x

x

Syria

Syria

Erek

DARE 33184

x

x

x

Syria

Syria

Dura Europos

Qal’at es-Salihiye

DARE 21510

x

x

Syria

Syria

Dausara

Qalaat Jaber

DARE 34766

x

x

Syria

Syria

Qreiye-Ayyash/ al-Qrayya

iDAI 2281731

Syria

Syria

Qseir es-Seile

Pleiades 668385

x

x x

x

x



The Military 129

Auxiliary forts Modern country

Province Ancient name (early 2nd c.)

Modern name

Spatial reference

1st c.

2nd c. 3rd c.

Syria

Syria

Resafa

Resapha

Pleiades 668354

x

x

x

Syria

Syria

Sura

Sourriya

DARE 21831

x

x

x

Syria

Syria

Palmyra

Tadmor

DARE 21091

x

x

x

Syria

Syria

Oresa/Oriza

Tayibe

Pleiades 668323

x

x

x

Syria

Syria

Tell el-Hajj

DARE 21726

x

x

x

Syria

Syria

Tell Meskene

DARE 21822

x

x

x

Iraq

Mesopotamia

Hatra

Pleiades 894004

Syria

Mesopotamia

Resaina

DARE 21810

Israel

Iudaea

Birsama

Horvat Beer Shema

Pleiades 687864

x

Israel

Iudaea

Malhata

Tell el Milh

Pleiades 687960

x

Jordan

Arabia

Aseikhin, Qasr al-Usaykhim

DARE 34295

x

Jordan

Arabia

Azraq

DARE 21739

x

Jordan

Arabia

Dajaniya

DARE 34288

Jordan

Arabia

El-Quweira

DARE 34317

x

x

Jordan

Arabia

Er-Ruweihi

DARE 34301

x

x

Hallabat

Pleiades 697737

x

x

Humayma

Pleiades 746716

x

x

DARE 34779

Barbalissus

x x

x

x

Jordan

Arabia

Jordan

Arabia

Jordan

Arabia

Kahf

Jordan

Arabia

Khirbet al-Khalde DARE 23397

x

x

Jordan

Arabia

Khirbet el-Kithara DARE 34313

x

x

Avara

x

Jordan

Arabia

Khirbet ez-Zona

Pleiades 697688

Jordan

Arabia

Muhattet el-Haj

Pleiades 697712

x

Jordan

Arabia

Umm er-Resas

Pleiades 697646

x

Jordan

Arabia

Uweinid

Pleiades 697740

Egypt

Aegyptus

Abu Ghusun

DN 0012

x

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

Abu Qirayyah

DN 0020

x

x

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

Dios, Iovis

Abu Qurayya

DN 0022

x

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

Kainon Hydreuma? Abu Qurayyah

x

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

Mefaa

Cabalsi?

DN 0021

Abu Shaar al-Qibli DN 0028

x

x

x

x

x (Continued)

130

Alexandra W. Busch

Auxiliary forts Modern country

Province Ancient name (early 2nd c.)

Modern name

Spatial reference

1st c.

Abu Shehat, Tal’t DN 0029 al-Zarqa

2nd c. 3rd c. x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

Pleiades 776147

x

x

x

Pleiades 786123

x

x

x

x

x

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

Egypt

Aegyptus

Rayma?

Abu Zawal

DN 0030

Egypt

Aegyptus

Pselkis, Pselchis

ad-Dakka

DARE 42366

Egypt

Aegyptus

Ain Labakha

Egypt

Aegyptus

Aswan

Egypt

Aegyptus

Bab al-Mukhayniq DN 0043

Egypt

Aegyptus

Badiya

DN _SUB00066

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

Barud

DN 0048

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

Bir al-Hammamat DN 0058

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

Bir Bayza

DN 0056

Egypt

Aegyptus

Bir Sayyala

DN 0065

Egypt

Aegyptus

Egypt

Aegyptus

Dawwi, El-Iteima DN 0092

Egypt

Aegyptus

Deir el-Atrash

DARE 36329

Egypt

Aegyptus

Deir Gidami

DN 1966

Egypt

Aegyptus

Phalakron

Dweig

DN 0079

Egypt

Aegyptus

Contrapollonopolis Edfu

Egypt

Aegyptus

Egypt

Aegyptus

Egypt

Aegyptus

Egypt

Aegyptus

Syene

Tiberiane

Kompasi, Compasi Daghbag

DN 0070

x

x x

x

x x

x x x

x

x

x x

x

DARE 22152

x

x

x

El-Aras

DN 0084

x

x

x

Oxyrhynchos

El-Bahnasa

Pleiades 736983

x

x

x

El-Bordan

DARE 36206

Xeron Pelagos

El-Faysaliyya

DN 0244

x

x

x x

Egypt

Aegyptus

El-Hamra

DN 0087

Egypt

Aegyptus

El-Heita

DN 0088

x

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

El-Kanais

DN 0094

x

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

El-Matula

DN 0095

x

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

El-Muwayh

DN 0096

x

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

El-Saqqia

DN 0097

x

x

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

Maximianon

El-Zarqa

DN 0099

x

x

x

Pleiades 766391

x

x

x

Krokodilo

x x x

Egypt

Aegyptus

Mons Porphyrites

Gebel Abu Dukhan

Egypt

Aegyptus

Elephantine

Geziret Aswan

DARE 22156

x

x

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

Philadelphia

Gharabet el-Gerza DARE 28602

x

x

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

Mons Claudianus

Jabal Faţīrah

x

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

Didymoi

Khashm el-Minayh DN 0126

x

x

Pleiades 766348

x



The Military 131

Auxiliary forts Modern country

Province Ancient name (early 2nd c.)

Modern name

Spatial reference

1st c.

2nd c. 3rd c.

Egypt

Aegyptus

Lahmi

DN 0129

x

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

Phoinikon

Laqeita

DN 0130

x

x

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

Thebae

Luxor, Al Uqsur

DARE 34480

x

x

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

Aphrodites Orous

Minayh el-Hir

DN 0155

x

x

x

x

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

Praesentia

Nag el-Hagar

iDAI 2276638

Egypt

Aegyptus

Babylon

Old Cairo

DARE 21140

Egypt

Aegyptus

Philae

Pleiades 786089

Egypt

Aegyptus

Qattar

DARE 36334

x

x

x

Qift

Pleiades 786010

x

x

x

x

Coptos

x x x

Egypt

Aegyptus

Egypt

Aegyptus

Qirayyah

DN 0164

Egypt

Aegyptus

Qusur al-Banat

DN 0169

Egypt

Aegyptus

Quway

DN 0165

x

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

Safaga

DN 0243

x

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

Semna

DN 0183

x

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

Sikait

DARE 30600

x

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

Domitiane

Umm Balad

DARE 34455

x

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

Persou

Umm Fawakhir

DN 0215

x

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

x

x

x

x

Wadi Belih

DN 0050

x

x

Wadi Gemal

DN 0112

x

x

Egypt

Aegyptus

Apollonos Hydreuma

Libya

Cyrenaica

Corniclanum

Agedabia

Pleiades 373776

?

Libya

Cyrenaica

Hydrax

Ain Mara

Pleiades 373829

?

Libya

Cyrenaica

Boreum

Bu Grada

Pleiades 363948

?

Libya

Cyrenaica

El-Benia

Pleiades 373755

?

Libya

Cyrenaica

Esc-Sceleidima

Pleiades 373885

?

Libya

Cyrenaica

Et-Tailimun

Pleiades 373900

?

Libya

Cyrenaica

Gasr el-Abid

Pleiades 716557

?

Libya

Cyrenaica

Gasr el-Atallat

Pleiades 363967

?

Libya

Cyrenaica

Gasr el-Brega

Pleiades 363981

?

Libya

Cyrenaica

Gasr el-Maragh

Pleiades 375254

?

Zav?

Kozynthion

(Continued)

132

Alexandra W. Busch

Auxiliary forts Modern country

Province Ancient name (early 2nd c.)

Modern name

Spatial reference

1st c.

2nd c. 3rd c.

Libya

Cyrenaica

Gasr er-Remtiet

Pleiades 375253

?

Libya

Cyrenaica

Gasr esc-Sahabi

Pleiades 373802

?

Libya

Cyrenaica

Gasr Uertig

Pleiades 375260

?

Libya

Cyrenaica

Graret Gser et-Trab

Pleiades 363924

?

Libya

Cyrenaica

Tocra

Pleiades 373736

?

Libya

Cyrenaica

Zaviet Msu

Pleiades 373915

?

Libya

Africa proconsularis Auru (Tripolitana)

Ain el-Auenia

DARE 34526

Libya

Africa proconsularis Thentheos (Tripolitana)

az-Zintan

DARE 40998

x

Libya

Africa proconsularis Gholaia (Tripolitana)

Bu Njem

DARE 21768

x

Libya

Africa proconsularis Tagulis, Tagulus (Tripolitana)

Gasr el-Haddadia

Pleiades 364026

Libya

Africa proconsularis Cidamus (Tripolitana)

Ghadames

DARE 21840

Libya

Africa Myd…, Castra proconsularis Madensia? (Tripolitana)

Gheriat el-Garbia DARE 22520

Libya

Africa proconsularis Mesphe (Tripolitana)

Medina Doga

Pleiades 344441

Libya

Africa proconsularis (Tripolitana)

Mizda

DARE 30986

Tunisia

Africa proconsularis Talalati, Tabalati (Tripolitana)

Ras el-Ain Tlalet

DARE 34540

Tunisia

Africa proconsularis Tillibari (Tripolitana)

Tillibari

Pleiades 344516

x

x

Algeria

Numidia

Badias

Badès

Pleiades 334500

x

x

Algeria

Numidia

Vescera

Biskra

Pleiades 334663

x

x

Arae Philaenorum

x

x

x

x

x

x

?

x

x

x



The Military 133

Auxiliary forts Modern country

Province Ancient name (early 2nd c.)

Modern name

Spatial reference

1st c.

2nd c. 3rd c.

Doucen

Pleiades 334540

Calceus Herculis

El-Kantara

Pleiades 334473

x

x

Numidia

Mesarfelta

El-Outaya

Pleiades 334592

x

x

Algeria

Numidia

Aquae Herculis

Hammam Sidi el Hadj

Pleiades 334492

Algeria

Numidia

Ad Maiores

Henchir Bessariani

Pleiades 334599

Algeria

Numidia

Mascula

Khenchela

Pleiades 334587

Algeria

Numidia

Lambaesis

Lambèse (Camp de 81)

Pleiades 334570

Algeria

Numidia

Gemellae

Mlili

Algeria

Numidia

Algeria

Numidia

Algeria

x

x x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

DARE 22167

x

x

x

x x

Algeria

Numidia

Ad Piscinam?

North Biskra

Pleiades 334477

Algeria

Numidia

Ausum

Sadouri

Pleiades 334498

x

Algeria

Numidia

Ad Medias

Taddert

Pleiades 337522

x

Algeria

Numidia

Thabudeos

Tehouda

Pleiades 334632

x

x

Algeria

Numidia

Thubunae

Tobna

Pleiades 334641

x

x

Algeria

Numidia

Vazaivi

Zoui

Pleiades 334660

x

x

Algeria

Numidia

Zarai

Zraia

Pleiades 334669

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Ain Bénia

Pleiades 285397

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Ain el Hammam

Pleiades 285535

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Ain Rich

DARE 34688

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Ain Tissemsil

DARE 34089

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Ain Toukria

Pleiades 285408

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Ain Toumella

Pleiades 334634

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Ain Touta

Pleiades 334631

x

x

Tepidae

Thamallula

x

(Continued)

134

Alexandra W. Busch

Auxiliary forts Modern country

Province Ancient name (early 2nd c.)

Modern name

Spatial reference

1st c.

2nd c. 3rd c.

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Albulae

Ain Témouchent

Pleiades 285412

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Cen..?

Aioun Sbiba

DARE 34092

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Zabi

Bechilga

Pleiades 334668

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Tigava Castra

Bel-Abbès/ Ouled-Abbès

DARE 34106

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Thanaramusa (Castra)

Berrouaghia

Pleiades 295354

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Bou Sâada

Pleiades 337502

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Bénian

DARE 22139

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Derrag

Pleiades 285433

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Djelfa

Pleiades 334537

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Djidiouia/ Saint-Aimé

Pleiades 285444

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

el Gahra

DARE 34699

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

el Khadra

Pleiades 285460

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Ferme Romanette

Pleiades 334545

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Caput Cilani?

Gouéa, Kherbet el Pleiades Djouhala 295239

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Macri

Henchir Remada

Pleiades 334584

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Cohors Breucorum Henchir Souik

DARE 34093

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Cellae

Kherbet Zerga

Pleiades 334526

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Koudiat Sidi ben Beha

DARE 34096

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Ballene Praesidium L’Hillil

Pleiades 285418

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Numerus Syrorum

Lalla Maghnia/ Marnia

DARE 34098

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Medjedel

Pleiades 334594

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

DARE 22629

x

x

Ala Miliaria

Gadaum Castra

Castellum Dimmidi Messad



The Military 135

Auxiliary forts Modern country

Province Ancient name (early 2nd c.)

Modern name

Spatial reference

1st c.

2nd c. 3rd c.

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Castra Nova

Mohammadia/ Perrégaux

Pleiades 285424

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Altava

Ouled Mimoun

DARE 23729

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Usinaza

Saneg

Pleiades 334654

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Kaputtasaccora

Sidi Ali ben Yub/ DARE 27003 Chanzy

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Columnata

Sidi Hosni

Pleiades 285430

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Rapidum

Sour Djouab

Pleiades 295329

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Auzia

Sour-Ghozlan

Pleiades 295221

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Tatilti

Taraess

Pleiades 334628

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Aras

Tarmount

Pleiades 334493

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Temordjanet

DARE 34099

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Tiaret

Pleiades 285536

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Lucu

Timziouine

DARE 34097

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Pomaria

Tlemcen

DARE 27021

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Tect…

Ténira

DARE 27031

x

x

Algeria

Mauretania Caesariensis

Zerbaret et Tir

DARE 34522

Morocco

Mauretania Tingitana

Ain Dalia

DARE 34060

x

x

Morocco

Mauretania Tingitana

Ain Schkor

DARE 34062

x

x

Morocco

Mauretania Tingitana

Tocolosida

Bled Takourart

DARE 22241

x

x

Morocco

Mauretania Tingitana

Sala

Chellah

DARE 21770

x

x

Morocco

Mauretania Tingitana

el Benian

DARE 34063

Morocco

Mauretania Tingitana

Fouarat

Pleiades 275738

x

x

Morocco

Mauretania Tingitana

Hazib el Harrak

DARE 22623

x

x

Frigidae

x

x

(Continued)

136

Alexandra W. Busch

Auxiliary forts Modern country

Province Ancient name (early 2nd c.)

Modern name

Spatial reference

1st c.

2nd c. 3rd c.

Khédis

Pleiades 275651

x

x

Tabernae

Lalla Djilaliya

DARE 22627

x

x

Banasa

Sidi Ali bou Jenoun

DARE 21773

x

x

Mauretania Tingitana

Sidi Moussa Bou Fri

Pleiades 275720

x

x

Morocco

Mauretania Tingitana

Sidi Said

DARE 26978

x

x

Morocco

Mauretania Tingitana

Souiyar

Pleiades 275580

x

x

Morocco

Mauretania Tingitana

Souk el Arba

Pleiades 275725

x

x

Morocco

Mauretania Tingitana

Thamusida

Subur

DARE 22240

x

x

Morocco

Mauretania Tingitana

Tamuda

Tétouan

DARE 22242

x

x

x

Spain

Hispania Tarraconensis

Castro de Quintela DARE 40340

x

x

x

Spain

Hispania Tarraconensis

Cidadela

x

x

France

Gallia Belgica

Boulogne-sur-Mer DARE 45

x

x

Germany

Germania superior

Altenstadt

DARE 2164

x

x

Germany

Germania superior

Andernach

DARE 72

x

Germany

Germania superior

Arnsburg

DARE 2160

x

x

x

Switzerland

Germania superior

Augst

DARE 20270

x

Germany

Germania superior

Bad Cannstadt

DARE 715

x

Switzerland

Germania superior

Tenedo

Bad Zurzach

DARE 38819

x

Germany

Germania superior

Aquae

Baden-Baden

DARE 1851

x

Switzerland

Germania superior

Basilia

Basel

DARE 18776

x

Germany

Germania superior

Bendorf

DARE 2174

x

x

Germany

Germania superior

Benningen

DARE 2984

x

x

Morocco

Mauretania Tingitana

Morocco

Mauretania Tingitana

Morocco

Mauretania Tingitana

Morocco

Ad Novas?

Autunnacum

Augusta Raurica

DARE 34896

x

x



The Military 137

Auxiliary forts Modern country

Province Ancient name (early 2nd c.)

Germany

Germania superior

Germany

Bingium

Modern name

Spatial reference

1st c.

2nd c. 3rd c.

Bingen

DARE 520

x

Germania superior

Butzbach

DARE 2159

x

x

Germany

Germania superior

Böckingen

DARE 3788

x

x

Germany

Germania superior

Echzell

DARE 2162

x

x

Germany

Germania superior

FrankfurtHeddernheim

DARE 2000

x

x

Germany

Germania superior

Friedberg

DARE 12979

x

x

Germany

Germania superior

Geislingen/ Häsenbühl

DARE 1915

x

Germany

Germania superior

Gernsheim

DARE 539

x

x

Germany

Germania superior

Groß-Gerau – ‘Auf Pleiades Esch’ 109020

x

x

Germany

Germania superior

Groß-Gerau – Wallerstädten

x

Germany

Germania superior

Großkrotzenburg DARE 2167

Germany

Germania superior

Heddesdorf

DARE 2176

x

x

Germany

Germania superior

Heidelberg

Pleiades 118731

x

x

Germany

Germania superior

Hofheim

DARE 16055

x

x

Germany

Germania superior

Holzhausen

DARE 17775

Germany

Germania superior

Inheiden

DARE 2161

Germany

Germania superior

Jagsthausen

DARE 2151

Germany

Germania superior

Koblenz

DARE 522

Germany

Germania superior

KoblenzNiederberg

Germany

Germania superior

Grinario

Germany

Germania superior

Lopodunum

Germany

Germania superior

Nida

Confluentes

Pleiades 109020

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

DARE 16045

x

x

x

Köngen

DARE 1913

x

x

Ladenburg

Pleiades 118813

x

x

Langenhain

DARE 16051

x

x

x

x

(Continued)

138

Alexandra W. Busch

Auxiliary forts Modern country

Province Ancient name (early 2nd c.)

Modern name

Spatial reference

1st c.

2nd c. 3rd c.

Germany

Germania superior

Lautlingen

DARE 1974

Germany

Germania superior

Lorch

DARE 1976

x

x

Germany

Germania superior

Mainhardt

DARE 2154

x

x

Germany

Germania superior

Mogontiacum

Mainz-Kastel

DARE 535

x

x

x

Germany

Germania superior

Mogontiacum

Mainz-Weisenau

DARE 26354

x

Germany

Germania superior

Marienfels

DARE 12828

x

x

Germany

Germania superior

Marköbel

DARE 2165

x

x

x

Germany

Germania superior

MiltenbergAltstadt

DARE 2156

x

x

Germany

Germania superior

Murrhardt

DARE 1395

x

x

Germany

Germania superior

Neckarburken

DARE 1979

Germany

Germania superior

Niedernberg

DARE 2208

Germany

Germania superior

Ober-Florstadt

DARE 2163

Germany

Germania superior

Obernburg

DARE 12883

Germany

Germania superior

Oberscheidental

DARE 2222

x

France

Germania Superior

Oedenburg

DARE 45527

x

Germany

Germania superior

Osterburken

DARE 1268

Switzerland

Germania superior

Pfyn

DARE 1939

Germany

Germania superior

Rheingönheim

DARE 1089

x

Germany

Germania superior

Riegel am Kaiserstuhl

DARE 1954

x

Germany

Germania superior

Arae Flaviae

RottweilNikolausfeld

DARE 1529

Germany

Germania superior

Arae Flaviae

Rottweil-Altstadt/ Hoch-mauren DARE 1529 (3 forts)

Germany

Germania superior

Oedenburg

Ad Fines

Rückingen

DARE 2166

x

x

x

x x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x x

x x

x x

x



The Military 139

Auxiliary forts Modern country

Province Ancient name (early 2nd c.)

Modern name

Spatial reference

1st c.

Germany

Germania superior

Saalburg

DARE 2157

x

Germany

Germania superior

Sasbach

Pleiades 109324

x

Germany

Germania superior

Seligenstadt

DARE 1399

Germany

Germania superior

Speyer

DARE 5

x

Germany

Germania superior

Stockstadt

DARE 7969

Germany

Germania superior

Sulz

DARE 1956

Germany

Germania superior

Germany

2nd c. 3rd c. x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

Trebur-Geinsheim DARE 20724

x

x

Germania superior

Waldmössingen

DARE 18439

x

x

Germany

Germania superior

Walheim

DARE 2149

x

x

Germany

Germania superior

Welzheim-West

DARE 19272

Germany

Germania superior

Aquae Mattiacorum

Wiesbaden

Pleiades 108750

x

x

Germany

Germania superior

Vicus Alisinensium Wimpfen

DARE 16060

x

x

Switzerland

Germania superior

Vitudurum

Winterthur

DARE 1849

Germany

Germania superior

Borbetomagus

Worms

DARE 4

x

Germany

Germania superior

Zugmantel

DARE 16047

x

Germany

Germania superior

Öhringen-Ost

Germany

Germania superior

Netherlands

Germania inferior

Netherlands

Noviomagus

x

x

x

x

x

DARE 19271

x

x

Öhringen-West

DARE 2150

x

x

Radannum

Aardenburg

DARE 2097

x

x

Germania inferior

Abaniana

Alphen aan den Rijn

DARE 4458

x

x

x

Germany

Germania inferior

Burginatium

Altkalkar

Pleiades 108837

x

x

x

Netherlands

Germania inferior

Baarskamp

DARE 2109

x

x

x

Netherlands

Germania inferior

Bodegraven

DARE 44114

x

x (Continued)

140

Alexandra W. Busch

Auxiliary forts Modern country

Province Ancient name (early 2nd c.)

Modern name

Spatial reference

Germany

Germania inferior

Bonna

Bonn

Pleiades 762378105

Netherlands

Germania inferior

Lugdunum Batavorum

Brittenburg

DARE 4460

Germany

Germania inferior

Köln-Alteburg

Pleiades 109085

Germany

Germania inferior

Dormagen

Netherlands

Germania inferior

Germany

Germania inferior

Harenatium

Germany

Germania inferior

Netherlands

1st c.

2nd c. 3rd c.

x x

x

x

x

x

DARE 20724

x

x

x

Duiven-Loowaard DARE 18971

x

x

x

Kleve-Rindern

Pleiades 98976 x

x

x

Gelduba

Krefeld-Gellep

Pleiades 109002

x

x

x

Germania inferior

Matilo

Leiden-Roomburg DARE 14362

x

x

x

Netherlands

Germania inferior

Mannaricum

Maurik

DARE 2107

x

x

x

Germany

Germania inferior

Asciburginum

Moers-Asberg

DARE 2073

x

Germany

Germania inferior

Novaesium

Neuss

Pleiades 109215

x

Germany

Germania inferior

Rigomagus

Remagen

DARE 1533

x

x

x

Netherlands

Germania inferior

Carvivum

Rijnwaarden

DARE 2077

x

x

x

Netherlands

Germania inferior

Levefanum

Rijswijk

DARE 4456

x

x

x

Germany

Germania inferior

Till-Steincheshof

DARE 18972

x

x

x

Netherlands

Germania inferior

Utrecht

DARE 38

x

x

x

Netherlands

Germania inferior

Valkenburg

DARE 2104

x

x

x

Netherlands

Germania inferior

Vechten

DARE 1536

x

x

x

Netherlands

Germania inferior

Vleuten-De Meern DARE 2106

x

x

x

Germany

Germania inferior

Wesel-Büderich

Pleiades 109458

x

x

Germany

Germania inferior

Wesseling

DARE 2196

x

Netherlands

Germania inferior

Woerden

DARE 2105

x

Durnomagus

Traiectum

Fectio

Laurium

x

x



The Military 141

Auxiliary forts Modern country

Province Ancient name (early 2nd c.)

Modern name

Spatial reference

1st c.

2nd c. 3rd c.

Netherlands

Germania inferior

Nigrum Pullum

Zwammerdam

DARE 4457

x

x

Wales

Britannia

Gobannium

Abergavenny

DARE 23022

x

x

Abertanat/ Clawwd Coch

DARE 45757

x

x

Wales

Britannia

England

Britannia

Galava

Ambleside

DARE 23708

x

England

Britannia

Causennae

Ancaster

DARE 39182

x

Scotland

Britannia

Alauna Veniconum Ardoch

DARE 25302

x

Scotland

Britannia

Auchendavy

DARE 25341

x

x

Scotland

Britannia

Balmuildy

DARE 25347

x

x

Scotland

Britannia

Bar Hill

DARE 25339

x

England

Britannia

Baylham House

DARE 23060

Scotland

Britannia

Beardsen

DARE 25349

x

England

Britannia

Bibra

Beckfoot

DARE 22975

x

x

England

Britannia

Condercum

Benwell

DARE 22982

x

x

Scotland

Britannia

Bertha

DARE 25303

England

Britannia

Fanum Cocidi

Bewcastle

DARE 23093

England

Britannia

Vinovia

Binchester

DARE 23084

x

x

England

Britannia

Banna

Birdoswald

DARE 22977

x

x

Scotland

Britannia

Blatobulgium

Birrens

DARE 23096

x

Scotland

Britannia

Bishopton

DARE 25379

x

England

Britannia

Blackbush Farm

DARE 25564

x

England

Britannia

Blakehope

DARE 26329

x

England

Britannia

Blennerhasset

DARE 38890

x

Scotland

Britannia

Bochastle

DARE 25304

x

Scotland

Britannia

Bothwellhaugh

DARE 25377

x

x

England

Britannia

Lavatris

Bowes

DARE 22974

x

x

x

England

Britannia

Maia

Bowness-onSolway

DARE 23751

x

x

England

Britannia

Othona

Bradwell on Sea

DARE 18913

England

Britannia

Brampton/Old Church

DARE 44382

England

Britannia

Branodunum

Brancaster

DARE 18916

Wales

Britannia

Cicucium

Brecon Gaer

Scotland

Britannia

England

Britannia

England Wales England

Combretovium

Cumbria

x x

x

x

x x

x

x

x x

x

DARE 23026

x

x

x

Broomholm

DARE 25388

x

Brough

DARE 23065

x

x

x

Britannia

Broxtowe

DARE 38901

x

Britannia

Bryn y Gefeiliau

DARE 26218

x

Britannia

Buckton

DARE 25571

x

Navio

x

x (Continued)

142

Alexandra W. Busch

Auxiliary forts Modern country

Province Ancient name (early 2nd c.)

Modern name

Spatial reference

England

Britannia

Aballava

Burgh by Sands

DARE 23749

England

Britannia

Garrianonum

Burgh Castle

DARE 18914

1st c.

2nd c. 3rd c. x

England

Britannia

Burghwallis

DARE 26327

England

Britannia

Bury Barton

DARE 38991

Scotland

Britannia

Cadder

DARE 25344

Wales

Britannia

Caer Gai

DARE 26211

x

Wales

Britannia

Caerau

DARE 26193

x

Wales

Britannia

Caergwanaf

DARE 39005

x

Wales

Britannia

Caerhun

DARE 23011

x

x

England

Britannia

Caermote

DARE 38889

x

x

Wales

Britannia

Caernarfon

DARE 22972

x

x

Wales

Britannia

Caerphilly

DARE 26225

x

x

Wales

Britannia

Caersws I

DARE 23077

x

Wales

Britannia

Caersws II

DARE 23019

x

Canovium Segontium, Seguntium

England

Britannia

England

Britannia

Scotland Scotland Scotland

Britannia

Wales

Britannia

Scotland

Britannia

England

Britannia

Luguvallium

Wales

Britannia

England

Britannia

England

Britannia

Scotland

Britannia

England

Britannia

Scotland

Britannia

Wales Scotland

x x

x

x

x

x

Caister on Sea

DARE 18915 DARE 25429

Britannia

Camelon

DARE 25306

x

Britannia

Cappuck

DARE 25372

x

Cardean

DARE 25311

x

Cardiff

DARE 23020

x

Cargill

DARE 25309

x

Carlisle

DARE 20692

Moridunum

Carmarthen

DARE 20693

Brocolitia

Carrawburgh

DARE 23091

x

Brocolitia

Carrawburgh

DARE 23091

x

Carriden

DARE 23499

x

Carvoran

DARE 23092

Carzield

DARE 25396

Britannia

Castel Collen

DARE 23027

x

x

Britannia

Castle Greg

DARE 25393

x

x

England

Britannia

Castle Hill/ Boothby

DARE 44381

x

Scotland

Britannia

Castlecary

DARE 25336

x

Scotland

Britannia

Castledykes

DARE 25357

x

England

Britannia

Castleford

DARE 23048

x

Scotland

Britannia

Castlehill

DARE 25350

England

Britannia

Castleshaw

DARE 22908

Tamion?

Magnis

Lagentium Rigodunum

x

x

Calder Bridge

Tunnocelum

x x

x x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x x

x x

x

x x



The Military 143

Auxiliary forts Modern country

Province Ancient name (early 2nd c.)

Modern name

Spatial reference

1st c.

2nd c. 3rd c.

England

Britannia

Camboglanna

Castlesteads

DARE 23094

x

x

England

Britannia

Cataractonium

Catterick

DARE 22973

x

x

England

Britannia

Cawthorn

DARE 25457

x

England

Britannia

Chesterfield

DARE 25422

x

England

Britannia

Vindolanda

Chesterholm

DARE 22950

x

England

Britannia

Cilurnum

Chesters

DARE 22953

England

Britannia

Chesterton

DARE 25418

x

England

Britannia

Cirencester

DARE 20683

x

Wales

Britannia

Clifford

DARE 26231

x

Wales

Britannia

Coelbren

DARE 26220

x

Wales

Britannia

Colwyn Castle

DARE 26195

x

England

Britannia

Corbidge

DARE 22980

x

x

England

Britannia

Corbridge

Pleiades 89152 x

x

Scotland

Britannia

Crawford

DARE 25355

x

Scotland

Britannia

Croy Hill

DARE 25338

Scotland

Britannia

Dalginross

DARE 25300

England

Britannia

Dalswinton

Pleiades 89157 x

x

England

Britannia

Danum

Doncaster

DARE 23050

x

x

x

England

Britannia

Portus Novum/ Dubris

Dover

DARE 18910

x

x

x

England

Britannia

Crutch Lane

Droitwich

DARE 25557

x

England

Britannia

Conravata

Drumburgh

DARE 23750

x

x

Scotland

Britannia

Drumlanrig

DARE 25386

x

Scotland

Britannia

Drumquhassle

DARE 25308

x

Scotland

Britannia

Duntocher

Pleiades 89171

Scotland

Britannia

Easter Happrew

DARE 25354

x

England

Britannia

Eaton House

DARE 25510

x

England

Britannia

Ebchester

DARE 23090

x

Scotland

Britannia

Elginhaugh

DARE 25373

x

Scotland

Britannia

Falkirk

DARE 25330

Scotland

Britannia

Fendoch

DARE 22988

x

Wales

Britannia

Forden Gaer

DARE 23032

x

x

Wales

Britannia

Gelligaer

DARE 23021

x

x

Scotland

Britannia

Glenlochar

DARE 25382

x

England

Britannia

Godmanchester

DARE 25967

x

England

Britannia

Great Casterton

DARE 25480

x

England

Britannia

Great Chesterford DARE 25529

x

Corinium

Coria

Vindomora

Levobrinta, Lavobrinta

Durovigutum

x

x x

x

x

x

x x

x x

x x

x

x

x

x

(Continued)

144

Alexandra W. Busch

Auxiliary forts Modern country

Province Ancient name (early 2nd c.)

England

Britannia

England

Britannia

England

Britannia

England

Britannia

England England England

Britannia

England

Britannia

England Wales England

Britannia

England

Britannia

England England Scotland Scotland

Aesica

Modern name

Spatial reference

1st c.

2nd c. 3rd c.

Great Chesters

DARE 22978

Greta Bridge

DARE 25411

Onnum

Halton Chesers

DARE 22979

Mediobogdum

Hardknott

DARE 23079

x

Britannia

Hayton

DARE 38904

x

Britannia

Hembury

DARE 25715

x

Bremenium

High Rochester

DARE 22985

x

Bremenium

HighRochester

DARE 22985

Britannia

Hindwell Farm

DARE 39011

x

Britannia

Hindwell Farm

DARE 39011

x

Dunum

Hod Hill

DARE 20039

x

Vercovicium

Housesteads

DARE 22951

Britannia

Lindinis

Ilchester

DARE 23045

x

Britannia

Verbeia

Ilkley

DARE 23073

x

Britannia

Inveravon

DARE 39187

x

Britannia

Inveresk

DARE 25318

x

England

Britannia

Ixworth

DARE 25660

x

England

Britannia

Jay Lane

DARE 25570

x

England

Britannia

Portus Trucculensis Kirkbride

DARE 23703

x

x

x

England

Britannia

Bravoniacum

Kirkby Thore

DARE 23081

x

x

?

Scotland

Britannia

Kirkintilloch

DARE 25342

Scotland

Britannia

Ladyward

DARE 25369

x

England

Britannia

Lancaster

DARE 23712

x

England

Britannia

Leintwardine

DARE 23031

Wales

Britannia

Llandeilo

DARE 23075

x

x

Wales

Britannia

Llandovery

DARE 23012

x

x

Wales

Britannia

Llanfor

DARE 26212

x

Wales

Britannia

Bremia

Llanio

DARE 23015

x

x

England

Britannia

Londinium

London

DARE 1888

x

x

Scotland

Britannia

Loudoun Hill

DARE 25391

x

x

Wales

Britannia

Loughor

DARE 23024

x

x

x

England

Britannia

Low Borrowbridge

DARE 23711

x

x

x

England

Britannia

Lympne

DARE 18909

x

x

x

England

Britannia

Magis

DARE 23705

x

x

Scotland

Britannia

Malling

DARE 25307

x

England

Britannia

Derventio

Malton

DARE 23068

x

England

Britannia

Mamucium

Manchester

DARE 23037

x

x

x

Bravonium Alabum

Letocetum

Portus Lemanis

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x x

x

x

x

x



The Military 145

Auxiliary forts Modern country

Province Ancient name (early 2nd c.)

Modern name

Spatial reference

1st c.

2nd c. 3rd c.

England

Britannia

Marton

DARE 25472

England

Britannia

Alauna

Maryport

DARE 23702

England

Britannia

Ardotalia

Melandra Castle

DARE 22971

Wales

Britannia

Blestium

Monmouth

DARE 23013

England

Britannia

Gabrosentum

Moresby

DARE 23706

x

Scotland

Britannia

Mumrills

DARE 25329

x

England

Britannia

Statio Deventiasteno

Nanstallon

DARE 25450

x

Wales

Britannia

Nidum

Neath

DARE 23025

x

x

England

Britannia

Nether Denton

DARE 38909

x

x

England

Britannia

Netherby

DARE 23095

England

Britannia

Newbrough

DARE 44384

England

Britannia

Pons Aelius

Newcastle

DARE 23085

Scotland

Britannia

Trimontium

Newstead

DARE 25324

x

England

Britannia

Nemetostatio

North Tawton

DARE 25451

x

England

Britannia

Condate

Northwich

DARE 23052

x

Scotland

Britannia

Oakwood

DARE 25390

x

England

Britannia

Okehampton

DARE 38989

x

Scotland

Britannia

Old Kilpatrick

DARE 23500

x

x

England

Britannia

Voreda

Old Penrith

DARE 23080

x

x

x

England

Britannia

Derventio

Papcastle

DARE 23704

x

x

x

Wales

Britannia

Pen Llystyn

DARE 26215

x

Wales

Britannia

Pen-Ilwyn

DARE 26207

x

x

Wales

Britannia

Pennal

DARE 26209

x

x

England

Britannia

PentrehylingBrompton

DARE 25575

x

Wales

Britannia

Penydarren, Pen-y-Darren

DARE 26229

x

Exploratorum

x x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

England

Britannia

Anderitum

Pevensey

DARE 18908

x

England

Britannia

Portus Adurni

Portchester

DARE 18907

x

Wales

Britannia

Pumsaint

DARE 23016

England

Britannia

Glannoventa

Ravenglass

DARE 23707

England

Britannia

Regulbium

Reculver

DARE 18912

x

England

Britannia

Rhyn Park

DARE 38892

x

England

Britannia

Bremetenacum

Ribchester

DARE 23047

England

Britannia

Rutupiae

Richborough

DARE 18911

England

Britannia

Habitancum

Risingham

DARE 25367

England

Britannia

Rocester

DARE 25420

Scotland

Britannia

Rough Castle

DARE 25334

x

x x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x x (Continued)

146

Alexandra W. Busch

Auxiliary forts Modern country

Province Ancient name (early 2nd c.)

England

Britannia

Wales

Britannia

Vindobala

England

Britannia

England

Britannia

Arbeia

England

Britannia

Uxelodunum

Scotland

Britannia

England

Modern name

Spatial reference

1st c.

Rudchester

DARE 23089

Ruthin

DARE 26214

x

Shapwick

DARE 44396

x

South Shields

DARE 23088

Stanwix

DARE 22976

Stracathro

DARE 25313

x

Britannia

Stretton Grandison

DARE 25563

x

England

Britannia

Templeborough

DARE 23067

x

Wales

Britannia

Tornen y Mur

DARE 24894

x

Wales

Britannia

Trawsgoed

DARE 26206

x

England

Britannia

Troutbeck

DARE 25427

x

Wales

Britannia

Usk

iDAI 2103223 x

England

Britannia

Waddon Hill

DARE 38995

x

England

Britannia

Letocetum

Wall

DARE 23035

x

England

Britannia

Segedunum

Wallsend

DARE 23087

England

Britannia

Walton Castle

DARE 23720

England

Britannia

Watercrook

DARE 23709

Scotland

Britannia

Westerwood

DARE 25337

England

Britannia

Wroxeter

DARE 20700

Burrium

Alavana Viroconium

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Figure 6.6  Legionary and auxiliary bases and forts of the Roman Empire, first century ce. By Anja Cramer and Vera Kassühlke.

Figure 6.7  Legionary and auxiliary bases and forts of the Roman Empire, second century ce. By Anja Cramer and Vera Kassühlke.

Figure 6.8  Legionary and auxiliary bases and forts of the Roman Empire, third century ce. By Anja Cramer and Vera Kassühlke.

Figure 6.9  Legionary and auxiliary bases and forts of the Roman Empire, first to third centuries ce. By Anja Cramer and Vera Kassühlke.



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GAZETTEER SPATIAL LOCATION REFERENCES DARE = Digital Atlas of the Roman Empire. https://dh.gu.se/dare and https://imperium.ahlfeldt.se ­consulted 19 December 2022. DN = Desert Networks. https://desertnetworks.huma-num.fr consulted 19 December 2022. iDAI = Deutsches Archäologisches Institut: iDAI.gazetteer. https://gazetteer.dainst.org consulted 19 December 2022. Pleiades = Pleiades. https://pleiades.stoa.org consulted 19 December 2022. Vici = Vici. Archaeological Atlas of Antiquity. https://vici.org consulted 19 December 2022

GAZETTEER SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY (BY PROVINCE/REGION) General Bishop, Mike C. 2012. Handbook to Roman Legionary Fortresses. Barnsley: Pen & Sword Military. (see also www.legionaryfortresses.info). Breeze, David J. 2011a. The Frontiers of Imperial Rome. Barnsley: Pen & Sword Military. Farnum, Jerome H. 2005. The Positions of the Roman Imperial Legions. British Archaeological Reports International Series 1458. Oxford: Archaeopress. Fischer, Thomas. 2012. Die Armee der Caesaren: Archäologie und Geschichte. Regensburg: Verlag Friedrich Pustet. Klee, Margot. 2006. Grenzen des Imperiums. Leben am Römischen Limes. Stuttgart: Konrad Theiss. Konrad, Michaela, and Christian Witschel, eds. 2011. Römische Legionslager in den Rhein- und Donauprovinzen – Nuclei spätantik-frühmittelalterlichen Lebens? Munich: Verlag der Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Reddé, Michel. 2014. Les Frontières de I‘Empire romain (1er siècle avant J.-C.- 5e siècle après J.-C.). LacapelleMarival: Éditions Archéologie nouvelle. See also the brochures Frontiers of the Roman Empire https://www.deutsche-limeskommission.de/index. php?id=213. Accessed September 14 2022.

Italia Aglietti, Silvia, and Alexandra W. Busch. 2013. “Il progetto ‘Dalla villa ai castra’ del DAI ad Albano: Aggiornamenti e nuove ricerche.” In Lazio e Sabina 9: Atti del Convegno, Nono Incontro di Studi sul Lazio e la Sabina, Roma 27–29 marzo 2012, edited by Giuseppina Ghini and Zaccaria Mari, 267–275. Rome: Edizioni Quasar. Busch, Alexandra W., and Silvia Aglietti. 2011a. “Dalla villa imperiale ai Castra Albana: le nuove ricerche del DAI sull’accampamento della legione II Parthica e sui suoi dintorni.” In Lazio e Sabina 7: Atti del Convegno, Settimo Incontro di Studi sul Lazio e la Sabina, Roma 9–1 marzo 2010, edited by Giuseppina Ghini and Zaccaria Mari, 259–267. Rome: Edizioni Quasar.

Raetia Fischer, Thomas, and Erika Riedmeier-Fischer. 2017. Der römische Limes in Bayern: Geschichte und Schauplätze entlang des UNESCO-Welterbes, 2nd ed. Regensburg: Verlag Friedrich Pustet. Matešić, Suzana, and C. Sebastian Sommer, eds. 2015. At the Edge of the Roman Empire: Tours along the Limes in Southern Germany. Bad Homburg, Munich: Deutsche Limeskommission, Bayerisches Landesamt für Denkmalpflege. Sommer, C. Sebastian. 2011. “Trajan, Hadrian, Antoninus Pius, Marc Aurel…? – Zur Datierung der Anlagen des Raetischen Limes.” Bericht der Bayerischen Bodendenkmalpflege, 52: 137–180.

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Noricum Gassner, Verena, and Andreas Pülz, eds. 2015. Der römische Limes in Österreich: Führer zu den archäologischen Denkmälern. Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Groh, Stefan. 2018. Im Spannungsfeld von Macht und Strategie: Die Legio II Italica und ihre Castra von Ločica (Slowenien), Lauriacum/Enns und Albing (Österreich). Forschungen in Lauriacum 16. Linz: Gesellschaft für Landeskunde und Denkmalpflege Oberösterreich, Oberösterreichisches Landesmuseum, Museumsverein Lauriacum. Ployer, René. 2013. Der norische Limes in Österreich. Horn: Verlag Ferdinand Berger & Söhne.

Pannonia Groh, Stefan. 2009. “Neue Forschungen an der Bernsteinstraße in Nordwestpannonien: Die römischen Militärlager und der Vicus von Strebersdorf und Frankenau/Frakanava (Mittelburgenland, Österreich).” In EX OFFICINA  … Studia in honorem Denes Gabler, edited by Szilvia Bíró, 175–187. Győr: Mursella Régészeti Egyesület. Radman-Livaja, Ivan. 2012. “The Roman Army.” In The Archaeology of Roman Southern Pannonia. The State of Research and Selected Problems in the Croatian Part of the Roman Province of Pannonia. British Archaeological Reports International Series 2393, edited by Branka Migotti, 159–189. Oxford: Archaeopress. Visy, Zsolt. 2003. The Roman Army in Pannonia: An Archaeological Guide of the Ripa Pannonica. Budapest: Teleki László Foundation.

Moesia Gudea, Nicolae. 2001. “Die Nordgrenze der römischen Provinz Obermoesien. Materialien zu ihrer Geschichte (86–275 n. Chr.).” Jahrbuch des Römisch-Germanischen Zentralmuseums, 48, no. 2: 3–118. DOI:10.11588/ jrgzm.2001.2.23801. Gudea, Nicolae. 2005. “Der untermoesische Donaulimes und die Verteidigung der moesischen Nord- und Westküste des Schwarzen Meeres. Limes et Litus Moesiae Inferioris (86–275 n. Chr.).” Jahrbuch des Römisch-Germanischen Zentralmuseums, 52, no. 2: 319–566. DOI:10.11588/jrgzm.2005.2.18862. Ivanov, Rumen. 1997. “Das römische Verteidigungssystem an der unteren Donau zwischen Dorticum und Durostorum (Bulgarien) von Augustus bis Maurikios.” Bericht der Römisch-Germanischen Kommission, 78: 467–640.

Dacia Gudea, Nicolae. 1997. “Der dakische Limes. Materialien zu seiner Geschichte.” Jahrbuch des RömischGermanischen Zentralmuseums, 44, no. 2: 1–113. DOI:10.11588/jrgzm.1997.2.44010. Nemeth, Eduard, Florin Fodorean, Dan Matei, and Dragoş Blaga, eds. 2011. Der südwestliche Limes des römischen Dakien: Strukturen und Landschaft. Cluj-Napoca: Editura MEGA.

Dalmatia Campedelli, Alessandro. 2007. “Il Progetto Burnum (Croazia).” Ocnus, 15: 57–78. Sanader, Mirjana. 2015. “Das Legionslager Tilurium: 15 Jahre archäologischer Ausgrabungen, 1997–2011.” In Limes XXII. Proceedings of the 22nd International Congress of Roman Frontier Studies, Ruse, Bulgaria, September 2012, edited by Ljudmil F. Vagalinski, 127–136. Sofia: National Archaeological Institute with Museum.



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Cappadocia Gregory, Shelagh. 1996. “Was There an Eastern Origin for the Design of Late Roman Fortifications? Some Problems for Research on Forts of Rome’s Eastern Frontier.” In The Roman Army in the East, Journal of Roman Archaeology Supplementary Series 18, edited by David L. Kennedy, 160–209. Ann Arbor: Journal of Roman Archaeology. Mitford, Timothy Bruce. 2018. East of Asia Minor. Rome’s Hidden Frontier. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Syria, Mesopotamia, Judaea and Arabia Gschwind, Markus. 2009. “Every Square Structure a Roman Fort? Recent Research in Qreiye-Ayyash and its Alleged Bridgehead Fort Tall Ar-Rum on the Euphrates.” In Limes XX: XX Congreso Internacional de Estudios sobre la Frontera Romana, León (España), Septiembre, 2006, edited by Ángel Morillo, Norbert Handel, and Esperanza Martín, 1593–1604. Madrid: Ediciones Polifemo. Gschwind, Markus, Haytham Hasan, Andreas Grüner, and Wolfgang Hübner. 2009. “Raphaneae: Report on the 2005 and 2006 Survey.” Zeitschrift für Orient-Archäologie, 2: 234–289. Kennedy, David. 2000. The Roman Army in Jordan. A Handbook Prepared on the Occasion of the XVIIIth International Congress of Roman Frontier Studies, Amman, Jordan, 2–11 September 2000. London: The Council for British Research in the Levant. Konrad, Michaela. 1996. “Frühkaiserzeitliche Befestigungen an der Strata Diocietiana? Neue Kleinfunde des 1. Jahrhunderts n. Chr. aus Nordsyrien.” Damaszener Mitteilungen, Deutsches Archäologisches Institut, Orient-Abteilung, 9: 163–180. Konrad, Michaela. 2003. “Römisches Militär in den Orientprovinzen: Defensivmaßnahme oder politisches Instrument?” In Kulturkonflikte im Vorderen Orient an der Wende vom Hellenismus zur römischen Kaiserzeit. Orient-Archäologie 11, edited by Klaus Stefan Freyberger, Agnes Henning, and Henner von Hesberg, 237–256. Rahden/Westfalen: Verlag Marie Leidorf. Kuhnen, Hans-Peter. 2018. Wüstengrenze des Imperium Romanum. Der Römische Limes in Israel und Jordanien. Mainz: Nünnerich-Asmus Verlag & Media. Parker, S. Thomas, ed. 2006. The Roman Frontier in Central Jordan. Final Report on the Limes Arabicus Project, 1980–1989. Washington D.C: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection. Parker, S. Thomas. 2017. “New Research on the Roman Frontier in Arabia.” In Roman Frontier Studies 2009: Proceedings of the XXI International Congress of Roman Frontier Studies (Limes Congress) Held at Newcastle upon Tyne in August 2009, edited by Nick Hodgson, Paul Bidwell, and Judith Schachtmann, 139–144. Oxford: Archaeopress.

Egypt Brun, Jean-Pierre, Adam Bülow-Jacobsen, Dominique Cardon, Jean-Luc Fournet, Martine Leguilloux, MarieAgnès Matelly, and Michel Reddé. 2003. La route de Myos Hormos. L’ armeé romaine dans le désert oriental d’ Égypte, edited by Hélène Cuvigny. Cairo: Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale. Laboratoire HISOMA, CNRS Lyon (France). 2022. Desert Networks. Accessed September 14 2022. https:// desertnetworks.huma-num.fr Maxfield, Valerie A. 2009. “Where Did They Put the Men? An Enquiry into the Accommodation of Soldiers in Roman Egypt.” In The Army and Frontiers of Rome: Papers Offered to David J. Breeze on the Occasion of his Sixty-Fifth Birthday and his Retirement from Historic Scotland, Journal of Roman Archaeology Supplementary Series 74, edited by William S. Hanson, 63–82. Portsmouth, RI: Journal of Roman Archaeology. Reddé, Michel. 2015. “Fortins Routiers du Désert oriental d’Égypte.” In NON SOLUM … SED ETIAM. Festschrift für Thomas Fischer zum 65. Geburtstag, edited by Peter Henrich, Christian Miks, Jürgen Obmann, and Martin Wieland, 335–344. Rahden/Westfalen: Verlag Marie Leidorf.

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Cyrenaica Goodchild, Richard G. 1953. “The Roman and Byzantine Limes in Cyrenaica.” Journal of Roman Studies, 43: 65–76. Menozzi, Oliva. 2021. “Limes Cyrenaicus: A Pluri-stratified System.” In Nunc decet caput impedire myrto. Studies Dedicated to Professor Piotr Dyczek on the Occasion of His 65th Birthday, edited by Krzysztof Narloch, Tomasz Płóciennik, and Jerzy Żelazowski, 611–637. Warsaw: Center for Research on the Antiquity of Southeastern Europe, University of Warsaw.

Africa Daniels, Charles. 1987. “Africa.” In The Roman World, edited by John Wacher, 223–265. London, New York: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Lenoir, Maurice. 2011. Le camp romain: Proche-Orient et Afrique du Nord. Bibliothèque des Écoles françaises d’Athènes et de Rome 345. Rome: École française de Rome. Mackensen, Michael. 2021. Das severische Vexillationskastell Myd(—) / Gheriat el-Garbia am limes Tripolitanus (Libyen). I. Forschungsgeschichte, Vermessung, Prospektionen und Funde 2009–2010. Münchner Beiträge zur Provinzialrömischen Archäologie 10. Wiesbaden: Reichert-Verlag. Mattingly, David J. 1995. Tripolitania. London: B. T. Batsford.

Mauretania Akerraz, Aomar. 2010. “Les fortifications de la Mauritanie Tingitane.” Comptes Rendus des Séances de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, 154, no. 1: 539–561. DOI:10.3406/crai.2010.92841. Rebuffat, René. 1999. “La frontière de la Tingitane.” In Frontières et limites géographiques de l’Afrique du Nord antique. Hommages à Pierre Salama. Actes de la table ronde réunie à Paris les 2 et 3 mai 1997, edited by Claude Lepelley and Xavier Dupuis, 265–293. Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne. Rushworth, Alan. 1996. “North African Deserts and Mountains: Comparisons and Insights.” In The Roman Army in the East, Journal of Roman Archaeology Supplementary Series 18, edited by David L. Kennedy, 297–316. Ann Arbor: Journal of Roman Archaeology.

Hispania Morillo, Ángel, ed. 2006. El ejercito romano en Hispania. Guía Arqueológica. León: Universidad de León. Peralta Labrador, Eduardo José, Jorge Camino Mayor, and Jesús Francisco Torres-Martínez. 2019. “Recent Research on the Cantabrian Wars: The Archaeological Reconstruction of a Mountain War.” Journal of Roman Archaeology, 32: 421–438. DOI:10.1017/S1047759419000217. Ulbert, Günter. 1984. Cáceres el Viejo. Ein spätrepublikanisches Legionslager in Spanisch-Extremadura, Madrider Beiträge 11. Mainz: Verlag Philipp von Zabern.

Germania Baatz, Dietwulf. 2000. Der römische Limes. Archäologische Ausflüge zwischen Rhein und Donau, 4th ed. Berlin: Gebr. Mann. Burmeister, Stefan, and Salvatore Ortisi, eds. 2018. Phantom Germanicus. Spurensuche zwischen historischer Überlieferung und archäologischem Befund. Materialhefte zur Ur- und Frühgeschichte Niedersachsens 53. Rahden/Westfalen: Verlag Marie Leidorf. Claßen, Erich, Michael M. Rind, Thomas Schürmann, and Marcus Trier, eds. 2021. Roms fließende Grenzen. Begleitband zur Landesausstellung Nordrhein-Westfalen. Darmstadt: WBG Theiss.



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Jost, Cliff Alexander. 2006. Der römische Limes in Rheinland-Pfalz. Koblenz: Archäologische Denkmalpflege, Amt Koblenz. Kemkes, Martin, Jörg Scheuerbrandt, and Nina Willburger. 2002. Am Rande des Imperiums. Der Limes – Grenze Roms zu den Barbaren. Württembergisches Landesmuseum Archäologische Sammlung. Führer und Bestandskataloge 7. Stuttgart: Thorbecke. Klee, Margot. 2009. Der römische Limes in Hessen: Geschichte und Schauplätze des UNESCO-Welterbes. Regensburg: Verlag Friedrich Pustet. Schönberger, Hans. 1985. “Die römischen Truppenlager der frühen und mittleren Kaiserzeit zwischen Nordsee und Inn.” Bericht der Römisch-Germanischen Kommission, 66: 321–497.

Britannia Alberti, Marta, and Katie Mountain, eds. 2022. Hadrian’s Wall. Exploring its Past to Protect its Future. Oxford: Archaeopress. Bidwell, Paul, and Nick Hodgson, eds. 2009. The Roman Army in Northern England. Kendal: Titus Wilson & Son. Breeze, David J. 2011b. “The Roman Military Occupation of Northern England.” Transactions of the Cumberland & Westmorland Antiquarian & Archaeological Society, 11: 113–136. DOI:10.5284/1064017. Breeze, David J., and William S. Hanson, eds. 2020. The Antonine Wall: Papers in Honour of Professor Lawrence Keppie. Oxford: Archaeopress. Bruce, J. Collingwood. 1966. Handbook to the Roman Wall, 12th ed. Newcastle upon Tyne: Hill. Collins, Rob, and Matthew Symonds, eds. 2019. Hadrian’s Wall 2009–2019. A Summary of Excavation and Research Prepared for The Fourteenth Pilgrimage of Hadrian’s Wall, 20–28 July 2019. Kendal: Titus Wilson & Son. Roman Britain. 2022. Accessed September 14 2022. https://www.roman-britain.co.uk

CHAPTER 7

Technology Lynne C. Lancaster

The study of technology during the Roman period has had a contentious history. For much of the twentieth century Roman technology was described as “stagnant” or as having a “technological blockage,” although that has now begun to change. One goal of the present chapter is to examine how this view came to be and in doing so to dissect the methodological pitfalls and the clash of disciplines that that led to it. Another goal is to provide examples of how more recent studies of technology are being reframed to create new questions. Technological development has often been characterized as the creation of new devices to accomplish particular goals more efficiently, but it can also include innovative advances made through the reorganization of work practices and through the combination of existing technologies (Greene 2008, 78). The latter was an area in which Roman entrepreneurs and craftsmen were particularly adept. The Romans inherited much from the Hellenistic Greeks, who had made great advances in various branches of technology during the “scientific revolution” of the third century bce. The Roman contribution often lay in new applications of earlier Greek discoveries and inventions. The study of technology has been closely linked with the ancient economy, which was based on agricultural production, a largely rural activity. Nevertheless, urban centers formed the nodes of the networks that allowed the Roman imperial economy to function as it did. Rome famously used the curial class as a means to bring conquered territories into the fold by cultivating existing cities and creating new colonies. These cities played a seminal role in the redistribution of agricultural products, so there was an intimate relationship between the two. In determining the necessarily limited range of topics to discuss here, I have tried to choose ones that reflect both rural and urban aspects of the role of technology in the formation of the empire.

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 1, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



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History of the Study of Roman Technology “…lack of stimulus to industrialize left technology practically stagnant during the Roman Empire.” (Singer et al. 1954–62, vol. 2: 608)

How did such a dismal view of Roman technology come into being? The story involves the confluence of approaches from the developing disciplines of history of technology and history of economy as well as an emphasis on written sources, often at the expense of archaeological evidence. Two early influential papers came from non-classicists and focused on power generation. In 1931, R. Lefebvre des Noëttes presented a sociological argument focused on the ancient Roman horse harness. He maintained that it was inefficiently designed for the anatomical structure of the horse thereby reducing the efficiency of land transport in the ancient world, which in turn caused a greater reliance on slave labor. A few years later, M. Bloch followed with an article focusing on the importance of the watermill in Medieval Europe arguing that uptake of the watermill as a means of automation only occurred in late antiquity once the Romans had fewer slaves to do the work (Greene 2008, 70–71). Both authors were concerned with linking technological progress, or lack thereof, with the institution of slavery. A generation later, one of the preeminent scholars writing about pre-industrial technology was L. T. White, a medieval historian. He too was concerned with placing technology within a broader social context and moving it away from simply describing the design and function of objects and processes (White 1962a; Staudenmaier 1985). While his goal was laudable, his method of achieving it was to downplay ancient Greek and Roman technological achievements to argue for a medieval agricultural revolution. In his small but influential book (White 1962b), he focused on a number of “failures” on the part of the Romans. To the earlier horse harness and watermill arguments, he added the failure to produce a moldboard plow, the failure to develop the crank, and with it, the failure to create a method of transferring rotary motion into reciprocating linear motion. During the same period, M. I. Finley, a historian of the ancient economy, likewise argued that the study of technology should be more integrated into broader studies of the ancient economy (Finley 1965). To White’s earlier charges of Roman “failures,” Finley added lack of selective breeding and stagnation in mining technology. In his book The Ancient Economy, he argued more broadly that the Graeco-Roman economy was “primitive” with no concept of economic rationality (i.e., the premeditated quest for profit), which would drive technological innovation (Finley 1973). Having negated the role of technology in ancient economic development, he effectively diminished the incentive for the succeeding generation of scholars to study the relationship between ancient technology and its wider context. During the same period that White and Finley were developing their ideas, two multivolume works on the history of technology were published: one edited and overseen by C. J. Singer, A History of Technology (Singer et al. 1954–62) and one by R. J. Forbes, Studies in Ancient Technology (Forbes 1955–1964). White (1957) reviewed the second volume of Singer’s work, which dealt with the classical world, and criticized the editors for establishing the parameters of the project with a narrow definition of technology as “how things are commonly done or made” (Singer et al. 1954–62, vol. 1: p. vii). Most of the contributors took this approach and avoided much discussion of context, though Forbes, in his contributions to Singer’s volumes and in his own multivolume publication, attempted to provide the social context for the technologies he discussed. He was trained as a chemist rather than a historian, however, and simply repeated the ideas of Lefebvre des Noëttes and Bloch.

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The year 1984 was a watershed for the study of Roman technology. Two publications challenged Finley’s assessment of ancient technological stagnation: K. D. White’s Greek and Roman Technology (White 1984) and O. Wikander’s Exploitation of Water-Power or Technological Stagnation? A Reappraisal of the Productive Forces in the Roman Empire (Wikander 1984). K. D. White started by pointing out that Finley had lumped classical Greece, the Hellenistic kingdoms, and the Roman Empire all together, when in fact there were radical differences in attitudes and in the types of economic forces at play. He emphasized the importance of other factors in addition to economy, including climate, physical geography, and divergent needs of communities in different places. In his survey, he attempted to balance discussions of design/function with context. Wikander’s publication was more polemic, a direct argument against Finley’s model. It focused particularly on the case of the watermill that had been in vogue for half a century. Shortly thereafter, K. Greene published his Archaeology of the Roman Economy (Greene 1986) in which he too questioned Finley’s model and argued that archaeology needed to take a much more prominent role in the study of the ancient economy. Greene went on to publish a series of articles arguing against the “stagnation” theory (Greene 2000; Greene 2008, 62–92).

Theoretical Concepts and Frameworks The most recent studies of technology have begun to employ more sophisticated theoretical concepts and frameworks borrowed from sociology, anthropology, and history of technology (Greene 2008, 62–92). Basic concepts for thinking about technology include: invention, discovery, innovation, diffusion, and technology transfer. Invention and discovery are sometimes equated, but invention is the conscious act of implementing an idea in a new device or process, whereas discovery is the revealing of something that already existed. Much attention has focused on invention in the past, perhaps due to fascination with the genius inventor, whether it is Archimedes in the third century bce or Thomas Edison in the nineteenth century. Archimedes can be credited with both invention and discovery: he invented new types of war machines, but he discovered the hydrostatic principle of water displacement, as in the famous eureka moment in the bath tub (Plutarch, Moralia 1094 C). Given the anonymity of most ancient inventors and the difficulty in pinpointing an invention due to the constantly expanding archaeological dataset, a more useful concept is innovation, which is the process by which an invention or discovery is brought into use. In this sense, innovation extends beyond the uptake of mechanical devices and includes changes in organizational structures that allow for greater productivity. Once innovation occurs, tracing its diffusion and documenting examples of technology transfer can also lead to further insights. In studies of modern technologies, diffusion refers to the process of dissemination within a particular society, whereas technology transfer refers to the transfer of a technology from one society to another. In the context of the Roman world, however, there are great overlaps between the two concepts because of the geographical extent and the cultural diversity within the Roman Empire. Nevertheless, they both provide conceptual frameworks for distinguishing between types of idea exchange in the ancient world. Another concept borrowed from the history of technology is the technology shelf, which refers to the range of available solutions to a given technological problem. The concept grew out of theoretical debates on the nature of technological development. A dominant mode of Western thinking during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries saw technology as part of a continuous evolution, with each invention and innovation bringing the world closer to what would eventually culminate in modern Western science and technology. Related to this evolutionary approach is technological determinism: the assumption that technological progress



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is the primary factor behind cultural change and that society must adapt to new technologies (as opposed to technologies adapting to societal norms). While most would agree that technological development has had a great effect on societies throughout history, some premises behind the deterministic approach can lead to a blinkered view of the mutual relationship between technology and society. One example is the idea that innovation should be gauged in terms of efficiency – does it increase productivity and profit (Staudenmaier 1985, 134– 148)? Today, even from a strictly economic perspective, such rationalist assumptions have been tempered by the rise of behavioral economics, which recognizes that personal economic decisions are governed by factors other than increasing profit margins. This is where the concept of the technology shelf can help broaden the perspective. It takes into account the needs of individual societies and the agency of human choice by allowing for a greater range of alternatives. From this standpoint the choices made in a particular region or culture can be judged on internal criteria related to the societal norms of those who developed and used the technology rather than on externally imposed criteria developed in the modern Western world. In recent studies of ancient technology, approaches have become more varied and the subject matter broader. For example, construction was long neglected in discussions of technology; however, J. DeLaine’s analysis of the manpower and materials required to build the Baths of Caracalla in Rome demonstrated the impact that construction played on the local economy (DeLaine 1997). This type of quantitative analysis has also been applied to construction projects in the provinces (see various contributions in the conference series Arqueología de la construcción), and it can be employed in other branches of craft production. An approach borrowed from anthropology is cross-craft analysis (Miller 2007, 29–30), which often applies the method of chaîne opératoire whereby the operational sequences in the production process are analyzed so that patterns of human decisions can be detected. By separating the process from the material, one can compare similar organizational strategies in different industries within a society, with an eye toward understanding the socially embedded factors governing decisions (Murphy 2015). Cross-craft analysis has only rarely been applied to the Roman world, but it clearly has potential for further application (for non-Roman examples see Miller 2007). There is growing interest in reuse of materials and what that practice reveals not only about the economy but also about socially embedded assumptions (Peña 2007). Social network theory and computer modeling have been used to study the nature of Roman production and trade, as in S. Graham’s analysis of the relationships between people named on brick stamps produced in the Tiber valley (Graham 2006) and the MERCURY project’s analysis of distribution models for Eastern Sigillata tableware (Brughmans and Pobloeme 2016). Even when one does not have this type of dataset to plug in to software, the basic principles behind the approach can lead to new ways of viewing relationships between people and places in the production process. In general, the study of technology has expanded to include a broader range of topics, as reflected in J. P. Oleson’s Oxford Handbook of Engineering and Technology in the Ancient World, which in addition to traditional subjects includes “technologies of the mind,” such as book production, timekeeping, and calculation methods. Such choices were intended “to help put an end to the myth of a ‘technological blockage’ in classical cultures” (Oleson 2008, p. 6).

Myth Busters An examination of the primary myths behind the “stagnation” or “blockage” theory is instructive in highlighting some of the underlying attitudes and assumptions behind them and illustrating how approaches have changed. The myths are relevant here because most are based on evidence from the Roman provinces. They also reflect the Rome-centric bias

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common during a good part of the twentieth century, which had roots in European colonialism. In today’s postcolonial era, those earlier underlying assumptions are being rejected. Critical to the change in attitude is also the ever-increasing amount of archaeological data that has caused reconsideration of the older arguments, which were often built largely around literary evidence. In some cases, new evidence altered formerly held beliefs, while in others, issues have been reframed to take account of previously ignored evidence.

Horse Harness, Horseshoes, and Selective Breeding A prime example used in the argument for Roman lack of creative thinking has been the charge that they never developed an efficient horse harness. The original contention was that the Roman yoke harness used for horses was such that “as soon as the horse began to pull, the neck-strap pressed on its jugular vein and windpipe, tending to suffocate it and to cut off the flow of blood to its head” (White 1962b, 59). This idea was based on experiments with various types of harnesses conducted by Lefebvre des Noëttes in the early twentieth century. In fact, J. Spruyette (1983) has shown that this false assessment was based on Lefebvre des Noëttes’s misunderstanding of the ancient pictorial evidence and that he mistakenly had combined elements of two different types of harnesses in those he devised for his experiments. While it is true that the Romans did not use the horse collar, which is a type of harness that distributes the load more evenly around the neck and shoulder than a dorsal yoke or neck yoke does (Figure 7.1), it represents a failure only if one takes an evolutionary approach. This is where the concept of the technology shelf is useful – if we accept that there were other possible solutions for power and traction along with various social pressures that determined the choices made during the Roman period, then we must look at those before putting pejorative labels on an entire society (for a discussion of innovations in harnessing, see Raepsaet 2008, 580–605).

Figure 7.1  Left: Plow types. Center: Harness arrangements (from Spruytte 1983: 14, 16). Right: Hippo­ sandals in the British Museum. Figure by Lynne Lancaster.



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In the ancient world, horses were expensive, but they provided a mix of speed, strength, and aesthetic appeal. Roman horses were also fairly small in comparison to today’s breeds. Zoological evidence indicates that, contrary to Finley’s (1965) assertion, Romans did practice selective breeding to increase the size of both livestock and equids (Kron 2008, 177– 179). For draft animals, however, the Romans had other suitable choices that had distinct advantages over horses. The mule is more docile, easier to train, more surefooted, needs less food and less sleep, and has an anatomical structure more suited to a yoke (Raepsaet 2008, 591). Oxen have a lower center of gravity, which gives them a more efficient draught angle (the angle between ground contact of cart or plow and the point of application of the motive force). They are much slower than equines, but they are cheaper to maintain because the bovine digestive system is much more efficient than that of equines, so the feed can be of lower quality and less of it is required (Landels 1978, 175). Donkeys too have a low center of gravity along with remarkable strength and endurance for their size. Another much overblown assertion is that Romans never invented horseshoes and therefore their horses lacked traction for hauling (Forbes 1955–64, vol. 2, 85). Hipposandals (Figure 7.1) and even some nailed horseshoes have been found in Britain and Gaul dating back to the first century ce (Ward 1941, 11–12). In any case, the argument ignores alternative types of draft animals that provided other economic advantages.

The Moldboard Plow One of the most important uses of animal power in the ancient world was for plowing, and the assertion that the Romans failed to improve their plow design by coming up with the moldboard plow is related to the horse harness argument. This type of plow has an asymmetrical share (the part that projects into the ground and breaks the soil), a coulter (a knife-like addition that cut the soil vertically in front of the share), and a moldboard (an attachment on one side) that also turns the soil over and helps to mix in organic materials, which is particularly advantageous for heavy soils in wet climates (Figure 7.1). It became an important agricultural tool in northern Europe during the medieval period. The plow used in Greco-Roman times was the simpler ard plow (Figure 7.1), which usually had a symmetrical share that broke up the lighter soils found in warmer climates of the Mediterranean. In fact, Pliny the Elder (Natural History 18.172) tells us that in Gaul farmers used a plow that had wheels and a spade-shaped share with “wings.” The cutting wings helped to cut through the heavy soil and weeds while the wheels aided in reducing the force needed to pull the plow. Also in Gaul a new type of reaping machine was invented, the vallus, which employed a special harness to allow the draft animal to pull the machine from behind (Raepsaet 1997, 45–48, fig. 3.1). Archaeological evidence has been found in northern Europe and Britain that shows that plows in these areas had already begun to employ a coulter. A few examples of asymmetrical shares have also been found from third/fourth-century contexts, which suggests that movement toward what would become the moldboard plow had taken place (White 1967, 13–14, 134–136; Raepsaet 1997, 43–44). The farmers in the parts of the Roman Empire that required plowing of heavy soils had evidently taken steps to adapt their plows and to invent new devices to meet local needs.

Watermills The use of the watermill represents the first time that natural forces were harnessed to generate power (aside from sails on boats), so it has been central in the debate on productivity in the Roman economy. As Wikander (1984, 15–23) pointed out, the argument that the Romans were slow to take up the watermill was based largely on the sparse written evidence for watermills from the Roman period in comparison to the numerous references in medieval sources. A study of the archaeological evidence reveals a rather different picture. Wilson’s (2007) survey

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showed that the number of known watermills tripled, from just over twenty to over seventy examples, with peak numbers during the second and third centuries ce. The earliest unequivocal literary evidence for the existence of watermills came in the late first century bce (Antipater of Thessalonica, Palatine Anthology 9.418; Vitruvius, On Architecture 10.5.1; Strabo, Geography 12.3.30). M. Lewis, however, argued that the vertical-wheeled mill was invented in the 240s bce at Alexandria and the horizontal-wheeled mill a decade or two earlier at Byzantium (Lewis 1997, 26–36; Wilson 2002, 7–8). The earliest archaeological evidence comes from the Augustan mill at St. Duchard “Les Avrilles” (Cher) in France (Wikander 2008, 142). Excavations by P. Leveau revealed that the extraordinary milling complex at Barbegal outside of Arles, with its sixteen water wheels turning as many millstones, had been built by the early second century (Wikander 2008: 149–150). Other multi-wheeled grinding complexes are known from the Janiculum in Rome (third century ce) and outside Caesarea Maritima (fourth century ce) (Wilson 2002, 12–14). These multi-wheeled complexes were built on the outskirts of cities and were probably related to urban grain supply, whereas the majority of watermills would have been in rural contexts where archaeological excavations have been fewer. Not only were watermills more common than previously thought, but they came in a number of variants that could be applied in different situations. The vertical water wheel can be powered either by running the water under the wheel (undershot) or over it (overshot). Undershot wheels were the most common; the overshot type required the water to come from a higher level and was not suitable for all sites (Wikander 2008, 144). The wheel could be turned by weight (the weight of the water collected in built-in troughs), by impulse (a jet of water hitting paddles), or by both methods together to increase efficiency. Both overshot and undershot vertical wheels required gearing to translate the vertical rotary motion of the wheel into horizontal rotary motion for the grindstones. This was accomplished using a right-angle gearing system (Figure 7.2), a configuration known from the third century bce (Wilson 2008, 340, 351–352). The earliest securely dated horizontal mills, which have the advantage of not requiring gearing, occur in Tunisia during the fourth century ce at Testour and Chemtou (Figure 7.2). Both employed three helix turbines, a type of propulsion that is next known only in the sixteenth century (Wilson 2002, 14). Thus, people in the Roman Empire were clearly using waterpower earlier, more often, and in more creative ways than previously realized.

Figure 7.2  Left: Vertical-wheel mill with right angle gear train. Right: Horizontal turbine mill (based on remains from Chemtou). Figure by Lynne Lancaster.



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The Crank, the Connecting Rod, and Reciprocal Linear Motion Related to the use of the water wheel and power generation is the idea that the Romans did not use the crank and thus never managed to convert rotary motion into reciprocating linear motion (White 1962b, 104–110). The principle behind a crank is that rotating motion is created by applying force to a pin placed off-center from the axle about which the object turns. The principle is the same as that of the lever – the further from the point of rotation a force is applied, the smaller the force required. Ambiguity in the meaning of the term “crank” has led to some confusion in modern literature. It can refer to two different mechanisms: a hand crank or a machine crank. The simple hand crank creates rotary motion as described above, whereas a machine crank consists of a crank disc and connecting rod that convert rotary motion into reciprocal linear motion (Drachmann 1973, 33). Neither type is described in ancient literary sources, which led to the belief that they were not known. In recent decades, however, archaeological evidence for both hand cranks and machine cranks has been recognized. Hand cranks of metal (iron/bronze) dating to the second/early third century ce have been found at Augst, Switzerland, at Ascheim, Germany, and in a hoard of military implements from Bulgaria (Kayumov and Minchev 2013). Evidence for the machine crank comes from a relief carving on a third-century ce sarcophagus from Hierapolis, Turkey (Ritti, Grewe, and Kessener 2007). It shows a stone sawmill with a vertical undershot water wheel attached to a right angle gear train that turned the crank discs and connecting rods, which in turn moved two saws back and forth (Figure 7.3). Such water-powered stone sawmills dating from the sixth century ce have been discovered at Ephesus and Gerasa (Ritti, Grewe, and Kessener 2007); both had multiple parallel blades for cutting veneer. In these later mills, crank discs and connecting rods were attached directly to the mill wheel, thereby eliminating the gear train and the frictional loss inherent in that system (Figure 7.3 inset).

Mining Technology Mining was critical in the ancient world – not only were metals used for tools, for parts of mechanical devices, and in architecture, but also for the coinage that greased the gears of trade and urbanization. Therefore, Finley’s (1965, 30–31) assertion that Roman mining never advanced past what had been accomplished at the silver mines of Laurion in the fifth century bce warrants scrutiny. Wilson (2002) challenged this view, emphasizing the advanced role of water technology in Roman mining. For gold mining in particular, a variety of new devices and techniques were applied on a scale never before attempted. Pliny (Natural History 33.70–79) described a method used in Spain whereby a section of mountain was collapsed by digging tunnels to undermine it. For digging through hard rock, he cited the method of firesetting – using fire to heat the rock and then quickly dousing it to cause cracking. A bronze force pump found in the Sotiel Coronado mine in Spain was probably used for this purpose (Oleson 1984, 268–269; Domergue 2008, 123). Force pumps had been invented in the Hellenistic period (Vitruvius, On Architecture 10.7.1–5), but they were not put into practical use until the late first century bce, mainly for pumping water from wells and for fighting fires (Heron, Pneumatics 1.28; Pliny the Younger, Letters 10.33.2; for others, see Stein 2014, 26–27). The one found at the Sotiel Coronado mine was the latter type with a rotating nozzle for directing the spray (Figure 7.4). After Pliny described the tunneling process for collapsing an ore-bearing hillside, he went on to explain how to extract the gold. Aqueduct channels were built from high in the mountains, across deep gorges, to supply water for enormous basins (ca. 11,000 m3) set at the edge of the collapse zone. When the basins were full, the water was released to create a torrent that washed away the overburden to reveal the ores (a process called hushing). The eroded

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Figure 7.3  Vertical-wheel water powered stone-saw with crank discs and connecting rods illustrated on a third-century ce sarcophagus lid from Hierapolis (from P. Kessener’s reconstruction in Ritti et al. 2007, fig. 10). Inset illustrates difference between Hierapolis type mechanism with gear train and more efficient type used at Ephesus and Gerasa without gear train. Figure by Lynne Lancaster.

landscapes in the mining zones of northwest Spain verify Pliny’s description (Domergue 2008, 129–142). Eliminating groundwater was also critical for subterranean mining. Remains of water screws (Figure 7.4) and compartmented water-lifting wheels have been found in mines in Spain, France, Romania, and Britain (Oleson 1984). Some indication of the amount of water lifted at the Rio Tinto mine (silver, copper, iron) can be gleaned from the sixteen water wheels used there (Figure 7.4). They operated in pairs, each with a human treader, and were set progressively higher to attain a lift of almost 30 m at a capacity of about 9000 liters per hour (Oleson 1984, 251–258, fig. 115; Landels 1978, 68–69). The ability to control water via aqueducts, force pumps, water screws, and water-lifting wheels allowed for massively increased processing potential for ores of all types. Many of the more advanced mining techniques required extensive investment in infrastructure; both were driven by the need for state coinage. The Romans became a monetized society much later than the Greeks. Only after victories in Sicily and Spain during the second Punic War at the end of the second century bce did they introduce the denarius system. Coinage was critical in facilitating technological development because it allowed for easier exchange and for making large payments for materials and workforce (Meadows 2008, 774–776). Clearly, increased output from mines was intimately linked to the growth and well-being of the empire. One of the methodological problems that led to the “myths” discussed above is that the arguments focused on the concept of invention rather than innovation. The Romans did not invent the right angle gear train, the force pump, or the aqueduct, but they put them to use



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Figure 7.4  Water lifting mechanisms. Top left: Reconstruction of water lifting wheels from Rio Tinto mine (adapted from Landels 1978, fig. 17). Top right: Water screw (based on the wall painting from House of the Ephebe in Pompeii). Bottom left: Reconstruction of force pump with rotating nozzle from Sotiel Coronado mine. Bottom right: Chain pump. Figure by Lynne Lancaster.

in new and productive ways. Another methodological flaw is that individual technologies were often taken in isolation and evaluated without regard to their relation to the larger systems operating within the Roman world. A third issue is that no account was taken of varying needs and requirements in different regions. The technology shelf was different in various parts of the empire, and the choices made in individual contexts were governed by a myriad of factors beyond a quest for efficiency and the maximization of profit. If the study of technology is used as a tool of inquiry into the workings of a particular culture, one must ask what that culture did do and why, rather than focus on what it did not do.

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New Organizational Structures The genius of those living in the Roman Empire was in developing more creative ways of organizing existing technologies to create new scales of production, both in terms of mass production and large-scale production. Mass production is the fabrication of the same type of object over and over again, as we see with mold-made pottery and lamps, whereas large-scale production refers mainly to increased quantities of produce or materials, such as flour, olive oil, marble, or metal. Both types of production can involve organizational strategies that include division of labor, specialization, and standardization of parts or procedures (Wilson 2008, 395). In what follows, I look at three case studies to illustrate how these strategies can be detected in the archaeological record.

Case Study 1: Terra Sigillata One area where new organizational structures can be traced is in the production of terra sigillata fine ware, which is the sine qua non of the Roman archaeologist. It is one of the most important types of diagnostic find throughout the Mediterranean. From its inception in Italy around 40 bce at Arezzo, it was traded widely and is ubiquitous in imperial period sites (see Hudson, Pottery, chapter 5 of this volume). In addition to illustrating more complex modes of production, terra sigillata also called for more sophisticated firing methods. To attain the highest quality coral-red gloss required careful control of the kiln conditions to maintain an oxidizing atmosphere throughout the firing cycle. The finest examples were fired at a higher temperature (1050°–1100° C vs. 850°–950° C) so that the gloss was sintered, rendering it shinier and less permeable than wares fired at lower temperatures. In Gaul and Germany, special kilns were developed during the first century ce that employed vertical tubes to contain the gases from the furnace and to ensure an oxidizing atmosphere (Cuomo di Caprio 2007, 337–348). Terra sigillata vessels reveal evidence for the increasing levels of specialization within the industry. The vessels were mold-made, which allowed for expanded production capacity; decorations were applied to the soft clay of the mold itself with punches (poinçons) before it was fired. Vessels often bore a variety of name stamps applied at different stages in the production process: names of mold makers were stamped into the decoration of the mold or scratched onto the punches, while other name stamps could be applied to the vessel itself by the potter who fashioned it within the mold or the finisher who added the handles or foot. The fact that multiple name stamps can be found on a single vessel suggests a high degree of specialization. The potter and the bowl finisher are likely to have worked in the same workshop, but the molds could travel and be used by multiple workshops, as could the poinçons (Peacock 1982, 124; Sternini 2012, 71–73, fig. 29). Further insight into workshop organization is provided by a series of graffiti found scratched into twenty plate fragments (c. 55–70 ce) at a sigillata workshop at La Graufesenque in southern France. The lists indicate the names of the potters and the numbers of various types of vessels in the firing of a single kiln. The fact that different potters were using the same kiln suggests communal firing. The vast numbers of vessels listed for a single firing – in the range of 25,000–30,000 vessels per kiln – indicates an enormous investment in the favorable outcome. Some of the graffiti name cassidani or flamines, the kiln masters in charge of the firing. Indeed, experimental firings of modern reconstructions of oxidizing tube kilns have revealed the dangers of the firing process and highlighted the need for kiln specialists. A recent cross-craft study used kiln data as a starting point to examine the phenomenon of pooling infrastructure in the Roman world, along with the use of bread stamps in communal baking and the use of lead tags for marking bundles of textiles from fullers’ workshops (Murphy 2015).



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In addition to organizational information, the name stamps on terra sigillata also provide evidence for the spread of the new technology out from Italy. One of the major producers in Arezzo was Cn. Ateius (active during the late Augustan period), whose products can be identified by his own name stamps as well as those of his dependents, often his slaves and freedmen. His original workshop in Arezzo has been identified from a dump of refuse pieces stamped with his name (Sternini 2012, 16). Kiln waste slightly later in date bearing his stamps and those of his dependents were also found at Pisa, demonstrating that his operation had expanded to the coast, probably to take advantage of the harbor for export (Sternini 2012, 27; Kenrick 1997). Ateius also had production units in Gaul, at Lyon and La Graufesenque. Chemical analyses of his pottery and molds found at Lyon revealed that some of the pottery was of local clays, proving that it was produced locally, but at least three of the molds matched Italian clay, so were brought from Italy (Widemann et al. 1975). Whether Gallic potters connected to workshop owners in Italy were setting up “branch workshops” or were simply migrating freedmen working on their own behalf is not always clear. There is currently a movement away from the idea of the branch workshop model (Fulle 1997, 141–144). Ateius is not the only sigillata producer from Arezzo connected to workshops in Gaul, but the wares with his stamps provide the clearest evidence for ways in which organizational structures developed and technological knowledge moved from place to place.

Case Study 2: Stone Quarrying and Supply Another area of production where organizational structures can be detected in the archaeological record is stone quarrying. Urbanization throughout the empire from the first to the third centuries ce resulted in building booms and an increased demand for stone architectural elements, especially monolithic column shafts and veneers of colored marbles and granites. The initial demand came with the large imperial projects in Rome, but by the second century the cities of the provinces were rebuilding or building anew, often with imported stones. We have already seen how the desire for marble veneer affected the development of water-powered sawmills. During the second century, the market for stone sarcophagi also increased when there was a shift in the West from cremation to inhumation. The technology of stone extraction itself did not change much from classical Greek times. One of the only new tools to appear (early second century ce) was a heavier quarry pick, which allowed the quarryman to cut the trenches around the block to be extracted more quickly, though with greater material loss (Fant 2008, 129). The organization of the quarries, however, became much more complex during the first and second centuries, as demonstrated by quarry marks on blocks from quarries in Tunisia (Chemtou), Greece (Euboea, Chios, Paros), Turkey (Docimium, Teos), and Italy (Luna). The marks appeared mainly, but not exclusively, on colored marble and could contain information such as consular date, names of those responsible for extraction, and the location within the quarry from which the block was taken. Imperial involvement in the extraction of the most desirable stones is attested by the mention of procuratores on ostraca from the Mons Claudianus granite quarries in the eastern desert of Egypt and in inscriptions on blocks of pavonazzetto from Docimium and giallo antico from Chemtou (Fant 1989; Hirt 2010, 107–119; Russell 2013, 39–44). The imperial desire for good-quality white marble and colored marbles drove the initial opening and exploitation of the quarries with the finest stones, which then took on a cultural relevance, as can be seen by literary references to their desirability by the likes of Martial (Epigrams 1.88), Statius (Silvae 1.2.148–149), and Lucian (Hippias 5–6).

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Evidence from both quarries and shipwrecks indicates that there was some degree of standardization and division of labor involved in the production of architectural elements, sarcophagi and statuary. Roughed out examples of the common statuary types have been found in quarries at Proconnessus, on Cyprus, and on Thasos as well as on a shipwreck at Sile on the Black Sea (Wilson 2008, 404; Russell 2013, 319–326). Shipwrecks have produced numerous examples of sarcophagi with generically carved decoration such as swags, roundels, or plaques that could then be finished as garlands, heads, or inscriptions at the final destination. Lengths of the tallest column shafts (30–60 Roman feet) seem to have been standardized in multiples of five Roman feet (Russell 2013, 222–223). These phenomena were interpreted by John WardPerkins, a pioneer in the study of the marble trade, as evidence for an empire-wide industry based on standardization, prefabrication, and stockpiling. Its control was centralized, with the main quarries in the hands of the emperor (Ward-Perkins 1980, 25). Based on the commonly held view at the time of a Rome-centric empire, he saw the quarries, as part of imperial property, determining their own production. This vision of the ancient marble industry has gradually been modified. Most recently, the industry has been interpreted, not as a single coherent entity, but as a system of heterogeneous modes of organization working simultaneously (Russell 2013). Although there is no single agreed-upon model of organization, most scholars recognize that the situation was much more complex than previously believed, with some seeing greater agency on the part of the state and others allowing a greater role for private contractors and consumers.

Case Study 3: Mortar-Based Construction One innovation that affected building practices both in Italy and in the provinces was the use of opus caementicium, or Roman concrete. It differs from modern concrete in that it consisted of fist-sized pieces of stone (caementa) that were hand-placed in the mortar and tamped down, so that it resembled mortared rubble more than our modern poured concrete (Lancaster 2005, 51–67). The technique had several advantages over cut stone construction: its ingredients could be transported and put into place by individuals without the aid of heavy lifting equipment or the expertise needed to carve and fit stone blocks. The builders of central Italy also discovered that adding the local volcanic ash, nowadays called pozzolana, to their lime mortar resulted in a much stronger material that set more quickly and would harden under water (Vitruvius, On Architecture 2.6.1). These qualities eventually allowed construction of enormous vaulted structures like the Pantheon and the Baths of Caracalla. The people of central Italy began to build opus caementicium walls and vaults by the second century bce. By the first century ce, the technique had been adopted in many parts of the empire, though not necessarily using volcanic ash. Regardless of the type or quality of mortar used, building vaults of opus caementicium required a centering structure to shape and support the mixture while it hardened and gained strength (Lancaster 2005, 22–50; Ulrich 2007, 172–177; Figure 7.5). The structure typically consisted of a wooden frame covered by boards (formwork) that could be reused from vault to vault, thus saving on materials. The volcanic ash mortar in central Italy was so strong that the caementa could be laid directly onto formwork in horizontal rows, which also facilitated the process; if simple lime mortar was used, the caementa were typically set radially, like the wedges (voussoirs) in an arch, so that they would transfer the load without relying too much on the strength of the mortar as it set (Lancaster 2015, 33–36). Mortared construction was also used with bricks, which, given their fairly standardized sizes and shapes, added a degree of efficiency to the worksite. Unlike in Rome, where bricks became highly standardized in response to the massive quantities required for both private and imperial construction, the bricks produced outside the capital had a greater range of sizes



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Figure 7.5  Mortar based vault construction. Top left: Opus caementicium barrel vault with wooden centering (showing radially laid caementa along intrados and horizontally laid caementa fill). Top right: Barrel vault of armchair voussoirs. Bottom left: Sail vault using pitched brick. Bottom right: Barrel vault of terracotta vaulting tubes. Figure by Lynne Lancaster.

and shapes; nevertheless, within a single construction project there tended to be a certain degree of homogeneity that facilitated the construction process. Even when walls were constructed of opus caementicium faced with small stones, vaults were often built with a shell of bricks that supported a mortared rubble fill. The regularly shaped bricks could be set into place radially much easier than could rubble, and the thin, flat layer of mortar between them transferred the load through the vault more evenly and hardened more quickly so that the centering could be removed sooner (Lancaster 2015, 45). Builders in the provinces even devised new methods of laying brick for vaults so that centering could be eliminated altogether. In Roman Egypt during the first century ce, builders began to build domical vaults (sail vaults) of mud brick by placing the bricks at an angle (pitched) instead of radially so that the “suction” from mud mortar was sufficient to keep them in place and no wooden support

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was needed. The same method was adopted for fired brick vaults in Greece and Asia Minor during the second century (Lancaster 2015, 70–88; Figure 7.5). As we saw with agriculture, innovations in mortar-based construction could be distinctly regional. Baths were particularly susceptible to moisture damage, so an easy way of building a waterproof vaulted ceiling appeared in Gaul and Spain: specially formed ceramic tiles, “armchair voussoirs,” were mortared together to create a series of ribs set a certain distance apart with the spaces closed by flat tiles (Figure 7.5), with the vault then covered by a wooden roof. Each rib could have been built reusing the same centering frame, thus reducing the amount of wood required. A different technique for reducing centering began to proliferate in the late second century ce in Africa Proconsularis: small interconnecting terracotta vaulting tubes were put together with gypsum mortar to form vaults of various shapes (Figure 7.5). Because the gypsum mortar set so quickly, the builders could “glue” the tubes together without the need for wooden support. The final thin shell of tubes was then used as a permanent centering to support mortared rubble above. Experimental archaeology by S. Storz revealed that the vaulting tubes could be made very quickly, thrown on a potter’s wheel at a rate of about one per minute (Lancaster 2015: 114). The technique was particularly useful for building the underground reception rooms of the houses at Bulla Regia since it eliminated the need to remove heavy wooden centering from often-tight subterranean situations. While simplifying the construction process, the vaulting tubes also allowed for new forms of vaults with double curvature, which would have been too difficult to build in wood. The builders in the provinces were not simply mimicking the construction technology developed in Rome but were actively creating new methods that facilitated the building process, yet the results were quite different from region to region (for further discussion of both techniques, see Lancaster 2015).

Technological Networks, Shared Knowledge, and Cross-Fertilization The previous case studies focused on organizational strategies in a few specific types of production: terracotta fine ware, stone supply, and mortar-based construction; however, Roman technological advances were heavily cross-pollinated between industries, and the benefits were often the result of a combination of factors from different sectors. In this final section, I look at some of the ways that these interrelationships manifested themselves. One of the most critical factors promoting the exchange of knowledge in the Roman world was the trade network, which consisted of roads, rivers, and maritime routes (see Carlson, The Sea, chapter 2 of this volume, and Hitchner, Roads and Rivers, chapter 3 of this volume). Harbors were major nodes in the network, and the developments in construction technology affected both harbor building and ship design/fabrication. The discovery that adding volcanic ash to lime mortar created hydraulic mortar that would set under water was a great boon for harbor construction. Indeed, recent research by the ROMACONS group has shown that there was a seaborne trade in volcanic ash, likely from the Bay of Naples, for building harbors throughout the Mediterranean (Brandon et al. 2014, 159). Before the advent of hydraulic concrete, artificial harbors were built mainly in the Phoenician and Punic tradition of rockcut basins or by piling blocks of stone or rubble in the sea (Blackman 2008, 644–649). Vitruvius (On Architecture 5.12.2–6), writing in the 20s bce, described various methods of building concrete harbor structures using wooden cofferdams. At Herod’s harbor at Caesarea, there is evidence for cofferdams built as single mission barges that were floated into position and sunk into place by adding concrete that employed volcanic ash imported from Italy. The remains of the wooden parts reveal that sophisticated shipbuilding joinery was used (Brandon



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et al. 2014, 79, 212). This new method of building allowed for the creation of harbors with moles jutting out into the sea, which increased the space available for loading and mooring and also allowed for harbor facilities to reach out beyond shallows so that large ships could dock in places never before possible. Advances in shipbuilding technology also affected the trade network. From the first century bce the size of ships increased. Previously, most commercial ships had capacities of under 100 tons, but new designs such as deep keels, double skin hulls, and multiple masts allowed for ships with capacities of 250–500 tons or even greater for grain ships. Larger ships also had more bilgewater to lift to higher levels, and around the same time the chain pump first appears among wreck finds (Oleson 2000, 263–272). It consisted of a series of discs threaded on a loop of chain or rope that was rotated so that the discs at the bottom of the loop entered into a tube submerged in the water and carried the water up to empty into a spillway, channeling it overboard (Figure 7.4). This confluence of technological developments during the first century bce is an important factor in the vast expansion of trade during the Roman period. Wilson noted the importance of institutional factors – a single political system, a single currency (for the most part), and state incentives for shipbuilding – and argued for a “complex nexus of technological and institutional factors” that enabled the scale of maritime trade to increase (Wilson 2011). This resulted in movements of goods, people, and ideas while also creating new markets for secondary commodities, such as terra sigillata fine ware, oil lamps, and cookware. Terracotta production of all types (Pottery, tiles, amphoras) was ubiquitous throughout much of the empire. As discussed above, the production of terra sigillata expanded from Italy into Gaul during the Augustan period. This was a time of increased urbanization after the establishment of Roman colonies such as Arles, Orange, Vienne, and Lyon, and along with it came expansion of agricultural production in their hinterlands. Wine in particular was a major crop for export from Gaul, so amphora production increased along with the vineyards (see Hudson, Pottery, chapter 5 of this volume). By the first century ce, the cities were being renovated and enhanced with new public structures, especially bath buildings, which had become a sign of Roman culture and civilized life. The terracotta building elements used for the heating and roofing systems in the baths were often made in the same workshops that made amphoras. A similar interconnection between agricultural production, pottery, and architecture can be seen in Tunisia. Terracotta vaulting tubes appeared there once laws encouraging the reclamation of land for production of vines and olives had resulted in increased cultivation during the second century, and with it amphora production (Lancaster 2015, 112–115, 196–197). During the same period, African Red Slip ware had begun to replace terra sigillata from Gaul as the major traded fine table ware. The adoption of the vaulting tube was likely a secondary phenomenon related to the increased infrastructure, such as irrigation for agriculture, workshops, and kilns for terracotta production, and road systems to get inland goods to port. Builders put the terracotta building elements in place, but terracotta craftsmen created them. Such craftsmen were no doubt instrumental in many constructional innovations, especially in bath buildings. Glass making was also closely related to terracotta production and the building industry. Pottery manufacture had an established common history with glass production from the Hellenistic period, when glassmakers adopted the potter’s wheel for making some types of glass bowls. Once glass blowing was invented (first half of the first century bce), the critical tool was the blowpipe, which had to be made of a material that could withstand the heat of the glass furnace. E. M. Stern suggested that the earliest ones must have been made of terracotta, hence some collaboration with pottery makers. By the last quarter of the first century ce the iron blowpipe had been invented and larger gathers of molten glass were possible (Stern 1999). As with terracotta, glass became intertwined with architecture and the spread of the bathing habit: it provided a means of containing heat while allowing in light. Seneca

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the Younger (Moral Epistles to Lucilius 90.25) notes that window glass and the tubuli to heat the walls of baths began to be used within his memory, which would put their introduction around the early first century ce. Window panes could be created by casting the molten glass into a mold or by blowing a hollow cylinder (a muff) and then slicing it open to flatten it, which created thinner and more transparent panes (Verità 1999). In addition to technology exchange and cross-craft influences, various types of networks (trade, military, social) developed that allowed for the spread of technology. Some were regional while others stretched across the entire empire. We saw with the terra sigillata producer Ateius how social relationships could be traced from Italy into southern Gaul. The wares themselves traveled long distances via river and sea and supplied various different markets. Likewise, maritime networks of trade of foodstuffs in amphoras can be traced throughout the empire via find spots and shipwrecks. These networks had a great effect on industries that were based on a two-stage production system, such as glass and metalwork, where the primary materials (metal ingots, glass cullet) were processed independently from the fabrication of the final object. The transportation of the primary materials across vast distances was critical for the dispersion of production workshops, often located nowhere near the source material. The military was also an agent of technology transfer, as can be seen from the diffusion of hand mills for grinding grain (Wefers 2011, 72) and from vaulting tubes, which are only found in Britain in the legionary camps at Caerleon, Chester, and York (Lancaster 2015, 9, 201–202). In addition, Swan’s analysis of military pottery production in Britain found some African cookware types, from which she deduced Africans to have made and used them (Swan 1992). This may show military personnel bringing both new knowledge and their own customs to the regions in which they served.

Conclusions Many of the technological advances during the first three centuries of the Roman Empire were inspirations of individuals far from the capital. The patterns of diffusion often reveal networks that bypassed Rome completely. Nevertheless, the state institutions such as coinage, legal protections, and government incentives laid the groundwork that provided the context ripe for innovation in the provinces. The needs of the imperial state, particularly the grain supply for Rome (the annona) and the provisioning and movement of the military, resulted in expanded road systems and harbor infrastructure that benefited people and places throughout the provinces. The Roman Empire was made up of a collection of many different cultures, each with its own suite of natural resources and cultural traditions. To truly understand the role of technology in Roman society, the great diversity throughout the Roman Empire must be taken into account, as described throughout this book. Moreover, the developments must be assessed over time and space and in relation to local needs and values rather than against modern expectations. Such considerations are central to our increasing understanding of the reciprocal relationship between technology and society within the Roman world; ignoring them was a failure inherent in the stagnation theory.

Biographical Note Lynne C. Lancaster was Professor in the Department of Classics and World Religions at Ohio University. She specializes in ancient Roman construction and has published two books, Concrete Vaulted Construction in Imperial Rome: Innovations in Context (Cambridge



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University Press 2005) and Innovative Vaulting in the Architecture of the Roman Empire, 1st– 3rd Centuries CE (Cambridge University Press 2015) as well as numerous articles on monuments in Rome (Colosseum, Trajan’s Markets, Pantheon) and on vaulted construction in the Roman provinces.

FURTHER READING In this chapter, I have tried to cite the most recent sources with the greatest range of bibliography, in English whenever possible; these will take the reader to the full compliment of multilingual references on which our present knowledge is based. The place to begin a study of Greek and Roman technology is The Oxford Handbook of Engineering and Technology (Oleson 2008). K. D. White’s (1984) survey is out of date, but still provides the most manageable overview of the subject. Landels (1978) gives a more technical overview of mechanical devices. A good sourcebook for ancient literary references is by Humphrey, Oleson, and Sherwood (1998). The catalog for an exhibition on science and technology from Pompeii contains articles on a variety of different technologies (Ciarallo and De Carolis 1999). For water technology, see Wikander’s (2000) edited handbook. A number of works provide details of both practice and organization of mining and quarrying (Domergue 2008; Hirt 2010; Russell 2013). Sternini’s (2012) book (in Italian) provides an excellent introduction to Italian sigillata. For building technology in general, J.-P. Adam (1994) provides the best comprehensive treatment. For woodworking, see R. Ulrich (2007). For construction in particular provinces, see numerous articles in the conference series Arqueología de la construcción, edited by S. Camporeale, A. Pizzo et al., as well as my book on vaulted construction in the Roman Empire (Lancaster 2015).

REFERENCES Adam, Jean-Pierre. 1994. Roman Building: Materials and Techniques. Translated by Anthony Mathews. London: Batsford. Blackman, David J. 2008. “Sea Transport, Part 2: Harbors.” In The Oxford Handbook of Engineering and Technology in the Classical World, edited by John P. Oleson, 638–670. New York: Oxford University Press. Brandon, Christopher J., Robert L. Hohlfelder, Marie D. Jackson, and John P. Oleson. 2014. Building for Eternity: The History and Technology of Roman Concrete Engineering in the Sea. Oxford: Oxbow. Brughmans, Tom, and Jeroen Poblome. 2016. “Roman Bazaar or Market Economy? Explaining Tableware Distributions Through Computational Modelling.” Antiquity, 90, no. 350: 393–408. Ciarallo, Annamaria, and Ernesto De Carolis, eds. 1999. Pompeii: Life in a Roman Town. Translated by Eric De Sena. Milan: Electa. Cuomo di Caprio, Ninina. 2007. Ceramica in archeologia 2: Antiche techniche di lavorazione e moderni metodi di indagine. Rome: L’Erma di Bretschneider. DeLaine, Janet. 1997. The Baths of Caracalla: A Study in the Design, Construction, and Economics of Large-Scale Building Projects in Imperial Rome. Journal of Roman Archaeology Supplement 25. Portsmouth, RI: Journal of Roman Archaeology. Domergue, Claude. 2008. Les mines antiques. La production des métaux aux époques grecque et romaine. Paris: Picard. Drachmann, Aage G. 1973. “The Crank in Graeco-Roman Antiquity.” In Changing Perspectives in the History of Science: Essays in Honour of Joseph Needham, edited by Mikulás Teich and Robert Young, 33–51. London: Heinemann Education. Fant, J. Clayton. 1989. Cavum Antrum Phrygiae. The Organization and Operations of the Roman Imperial Marble Quarries in Phrygia. British Archaeological Reports International Series 482. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports.

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Fant, J. Clayton 2008. “Quarrying and Stoneworking.” In The Oxford Handbook of Engineering and Technology in the Classical World, edited by John P. Oleson, 121–135. New York: Oxford University Press. Finley, Moses I. 1965. “Technical Innovation and Economic Progress in the Ancient World.” The Economic History Review, 18: 29–45. Finley, Moses I. 1973. The Ancient Economy. Berkeley: University of California Press. Forbes, Robert J. 1955–64. Studies in Ancient Technology. Leiden: Brill. Fulle, Gunnar. 1997. “The Internal Organization of the Arretine Terra Sigillata Industry: Problems of Evidence and Interpretation.” Journal of Roman Studies, 87: 111–155. Graham, S. 2006. Ex Figlinis: The Network Dynamics of the Tiber Valley Brick Industry in the Hinterland of Rome. British Archaeological Reports International Series 1486. Oxford: John and Erica Hedges. Greene, Kevin. 1986. The Archaeology of the Roman Economy. London: Batsford. Greene, Kevin. 2000. “Technological Innovation and Economic Progress in the Ancient World: M. I. Finley Re-considered.” Economic History Review, 53: 29–59. Greene, Kevin. 2008. “Historiography and Theoretical Approaches.” In The Oxford Handbook of Engineering and Technology in the Classical World, edited by John P. Oleson, 62–90. New York: Oxford University Press. Hirt, Alfred M. 2010. Imperial Mines and Quarries in the Roman World: Organizational Aspects, 27 BC-AD 235. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Humphrey, John William, John Peter Oleson, and Andrew N. Sherwood. 1998. Greek and Roman Technology: A Sourcebook. London: Routledge. Kayumov, Ildar, and Alexander Minchev. 2013. “The καμβέστριον and Other Roman Military Equipment from Thracia.” In Proceedings of the XVIIth Roman Military Equipment Conference: Weapons and Military Equipment in a Funerary Context (XVII Roman Military Equipment Conference, Zagreb, 24th–27th May, 2010), edited by Mirjana Sanader, Ante Rendić-Miočević, Domagoj Tončinić, and Ivan Radman-Livaja, 327–345. Zagreb: Filozofskog Fakulteta Sveučilišta u Zagrebu. Kenrick, Philip M. 1997. “Cn. Ateius. The Inside Story.” Acta Rei Cretariae Romanae Fautorum, 35: 179–190. Kron, Geoffrey. 2008. “Animal Husbandry, Hunting, Fishing, and Fish Production.” In The Oxford Handbook of Engineering and Technology in the Classical World, edited by John P. Oleson, 175–222. New York: Oxford University Press. Lancaster, Lynne C. 2005. Concrete Vaulted Construction in Imperial Rome: Innovations in Context. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lancaster, Lynne C. 2015. Innovative Vaulted Construction in the Architecture of the Roman Empire: 1st to 4th Centuries CE. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Landels, John G. 1978. Engineering in the Ancient World. Berkeley: University of California Press. Lewis, Michael J. T. 1997. Millstone and Hammer. The Origins of Water Power. Hull: Hull University Press. Miller, Heather M.-L. 2007. Archaeological Approaches to Technology. Amsterdam: Elsevier. Meadows, Andrew 2008. “Coinage.” In The Oxford Handbook of Engineering and Technology in the Classical World, edited by John P. Oleson, 769–777. New York: Oxford University Press. Murphy, Elizabeth. 2015. “Socially Embedded Work Practices and Production Organization in the Roman Mediterranean: Beyond Industry Lines.” Journal of Mediterranean Archaeology, 28, no. 2: 221–239. Oleson, John P. 1984. Greek and Roman Mechanical Water-Lifting Devices: The History of a Technology. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Oleson, John P. 2000. “Water-lifting.” In Handbook of Ancient Water Technology, edited by Örjan Wikander, 217–302. Leiden: Brill. Oleson, John P., ed. 2008. The Oxford Handbook of Engineering and Technology in the Classical World. New York: Oxford University Press. Peacock, David P. S. 1982. Pottery in the Roman World: An Ethnoarchaeological Approach. London: Longman. Peña, J. Theodore. 2007. Roman Pottery in the Archaeological Record. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.



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Raepsaet, Georges. 1997. “The Development of Farming Implements between the Seine and Rhine from the Second to the Twelfth Centuries.” In Medieval Farming and Technology: The Impact of Agricultural Change in North west Europe, edited by Grenville Astill and John Langdon, 41–68. Leiden: Brill. Raepsaet, Georges. 2008. “Land Transport, Part 2: Riding, Harnesses, and Vehicles.” In The Oxford Handbook of Engineering and Technology in the Classical World, edited by John P. Oleson, 580–605. New York: Oxford University Press. Ritti, Tullia, Klaus Grewe, and Paul Kessener. 2007. “A Relief of a Water-Powered Stone Saw Mill on a Sarcophagus at Hierapolis and its Implications.” Journal of Roman Archaeology, 20: 138–63. Russell, Ben. 2013. The Economics of the Roman Stone Trade. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Singer, Charles J., Eric J. Holmyard, A. Rupert Hall, and Trevor I. Williams. 1954–62. A History of Technology. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Spruytte, Jean. 1983. Early Harness Systems. Experimental Studies: Contribution to the History of the Horse. Translated by Mary Littauer. London: J. A. Allen. Staudenmaier, John M. 1985. Technology’s Storytellers: Reweaving the Human Fabric. Cambridge, MA: Society for the History of Technology and the MIT Press. Stein, Richard. 2014. The Roman Water Pump. Unique Evidence for Roman Mastery of Mechanical Engineering. Montagnac: Monique Mergoil Editions. Stern, E. Marianne. 1999. “Roman Glassblowing in a Cultural Context.” American Journal of Archaeology, 103: 441–484. Sternini, Mara. 2012. La fortuna di un artigiano nell’Etruria romana. Arcidosso: Effigi. Swan, Vivian. 1992. “Legio VI and its Men: African Legionaries on Britain.” Journal of Roman Pottery Studies, 5: 1–34. Ulrich, Roger B. 2007. Roman Woodworking. New Haven: Yale University Press. Verità, Marco. 1999. “Sand and Glass.” In Pompeii: Life in a Roman Town, edited by Annamaria Ciarallo and Ernesto De Carolis, 108–110. Milan: Electa. Ward-Perkins, John B. 1980. “Nicomedia and the Marble Trade.” Papers of the British School at Rome, 48: 23–69. Ward, Gordon. 1941. “The Iron Age Horseshoe and its Derivatives.” The Antiquaries Journal, 21: 9–27. Wefers, Stefanie. 2011. “Still using your Saddle Quern? A Compilation of the Oldest Known Rotary Querns in Western Europe.” In Bread for the People. The Archaeology of Mills and Milling. Proceedings of a Colloquium held in the British School at Rome 4th–7th November 2009, edited by David Williams and David P. S. Peacock, 67–76. British Archaeological Reports International Series 2274. Oxford: Archaeopress. White, Kenneth D. 1967. Agricultural Implements of the Roman World. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. White, Kenneth D. 1984. Greek and Roman Technology. London: Thames and Hudson. White, Lynn T. 1957. “Review of Studies in Ancient Technology by Robert J. Forbes.” Isis, 48, no. 1: 77. White, Lynn T. 1962a. “The Act of Invention: Causes, Contexts, Continuities, and Consequences.” Technology and Culture, 3, no. 4: 486–500. White, Lynn T. 1962b. Medieval Technology and Social Change. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Widemann, François, Maurice Picon, Frank Asaro, Helen V. Michel, and Isadore Perlman. 1975. “A Lyons Branch of the Pottery-Making Firm of Ateius of Arezzo.” Archaeometry, 17, no. 1: 45–59. Wikander, Örjan. 1984. Exploitation of Water-Power or Technological Stagnation? A Reappraisal of the Productive Forces in the Roman Empire. Lund: Glerup. Wikander, Örjan, ed. 2000. Handbook of Ancient Water Technology. Leiden: Brill. Wikander, Örjan. 2008. “Animal Husbandry, Hunting, Fishing, and Fish Production.” In The Oxford Handbook of Engineering and Technology in the Classical World, edited by John P. Oleson, 136–157. New York: Oxford University Press. Wilson, Andrew I. 2002. “Machines, Power, and the Ancient Economy.” Journal of Roman Studies, 92: 1–32.

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Wilson, Andrew I. 2007. “The Uptake of Mechanical Technology in the Ancient World: The Watermill.” Oxford Roman Economy Project Working Paper, 28 February 2007 http://oxrep.classics.ox.ac.uk/ working%20papers/uptake_mechanical_technology_ancient_world_watermill. Wilson, Andrew I. 2008. “Machines in Greek and Roman Technology.” In The Oxford Handbook of Engineering and Technology in the Classical World, edited by John P. Oleson, 337–366. New York: Oxford University Press. Wilson, Andrew I. 2011. “The Economic Influence of Developments in Maritime Technology in Antiquity.” In Maritime Technology in the Ancient Economy: Ship Design and Navigation, edited by William V. Harris and Kristine Iara, 211–234. Journal of Roman Archaeology Supplement 84. Portsmouth, RI: Journal of Roman Archaeology.

CHAPTER 8

Summation Greg Woolf

We know the Romans’ empire better than they did. Perhaps no Roman ever saw as much of it as did the emperor Hadrian and the enslaved people who accompanied him as he toured the provinces. But Hadrian’s itineraries, which we know quite well, took him from city to city and camp to camp with only occasional detours to places that he and his entourage regarded as of special historical interest and the grandest of private residences. He traveled along major roads and by sea between some of the more spectacular new ports that the empire had brought into being, but he can have seen little of the space in between. Most of the landscapes we survey, most of the rural residences we excavate, the small towns and the rural shrines, the manufactories and mines, the upland forests and the marshlands, remained invisible to him. Our gaze is more imperial than his. The chapters gathered in this Companion sum up what is visible at present, after more than a century of scientific archaeology in Roman lands. They amass an abundance of information and documentation. It is a remarkable achievement, both on the part of chapter authors who have managed to condense so much up-to-date work and on the part of the editor and the production team. All are to be congratulated. The Roman Empire is a designation that can be applied to a period of time, to a geographical space, and to an institution. Each of these three entities has its own archaeology. Few, if any, of the contributors to this volume take the view that Roman governmental institutions dominated the lived experiences of all the 80 million or so human beings the emperors claimed to rule. Probably more were affected than realized it, by imperial fiscalities and the framework of Roman law to which – for most of the first two centuries ce – only a third or so of the population had direct access. But the “normal” subjects of the Roman Empire had more pressing concerns than whether they conformed to Roman standards of dress, could manage some Latin or Greek, or knew who the emperor of the day might be. Questions of identity and legal status probably mattered only occasionally for most of them (Burrell, “Introduction: The Material Roman Empire,” Chapter 1; Pitts 2007). Appropriately, this is a Companion to the archaeology of a great chunk of ­populated space-time, not to a political institution.

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 1, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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The subject matter is laid out geographically, in its divisions and (in these first chapters) in its connections, too. This offers the great advantage of allowing comparisons to be drawn, as Hadrian and other travelers might have drawn them, across the vast space of imperial territory. The Companion will profitably be read alongside the Barrington Atlas (Talbert 2000). All organizational choices come at a cost. In this case, the deficit is thematic: There are no chapters on the archaeologies of gender, slavery, or race; no synthetic analysis of poverty; little on the archaeology of religion, though see Kropp (Chapter 27) on Syria, Burrell (Chapter 29) on Judaea, and Haüssler (Chapter 37) on Gallia Narbonensis, and also Raja and Rüpke (2015); and no archaeology of the Roman economy as a whole, to list just a few topics of current interest. That said, many themes are treated within individual chapters. Foodways are not just covered by Hudson (Chapter 5), beginning from ceramics, but also by Wendrich (Chapter 31) on the basis of palaeobotanical finds from Indian Ocean and Red Sea ports. Military archaeology, treated synoptically by Busch (Chapter 6), is also prominent in many other chapters, including Moosbauer (Chapter 12) on Raetia, Diaconenscu (Chapter 13) on Dacia, and especially Wigg-Wolf (Chapter 38) on the Germanies. Many chapters include discussions of geography. Ecological and environmental issues are treated by many contributors including Marzano (Chapter 10) on Italy, Doonan (Chapter 20) on Bithynia and Pontus, Wendrich (Chapter 31) on Egypt, and Kane (Chapter 32) on Cyrenaica. The environmental history of Rome is a theme of growing interest (Horden and Purcell 2000; Harris 2005, 2013; Blouin 2014; Haldon et al. 2014; Franconi 2017; Harper 2017). Many contributors devote space to the exploitation of natural resources, of the sea, of forests, and especially of mines and quarries (Diaconescu, “Dacia,” Chapter 13; Evangelidis, “Macedonia,” Chapter 15). The geographical diversity of the empire offers one justification for this organization of the Companion. Viewing the empire primarily through its material culture brings out very clearly the differences between its constituent entities. Even within provinces like Gallia Narbonensis (Haüssler, Chapter 37) or Dalmatia (Demicheli, Chapter 14), there were striking contrasts between coastal zones and their hinterlands, and between areas that in preconquest times were occupied by different populations. Once away from the areas of dense urbanization and especially those areas seeded with colonies around the turn of the millennia, the limits of cultural assimilation are very apparent. These small worlds were connected fiscally and militarily, but human mobility was probably quite low and affected some groups more than others. Women were much less likely to move than men, and only a few destinations – notably the city of Rome – received large numbers of migrants. Military movements and the slave trade accounted for the mass of long-distance movements of people (Scheidel 2004, 2005; Woolf 2013, 2016; Tacoma 2016). It follows that most people experienced the Roman Empire only as a distant and rather vaguely perceived system of symbols and threats. The persistence of local legal systems, of local languages, of religious architectures, and much else meant that many phenomena were experienced at the local level, and are appropriately treated in this Companion at the local level. Representative art, much of it religious, much of it funerary, brings out these local distinctions (Alcock, Egri, and Frakes 2016). Historians writing in the metropolis, or orators praising the emperors, might have tried to grasp the whole. Most lived in the parts. This does not mean there is nothing to be gained from thinking about the Roman Empire as a system. But it is surprisingly difficult to do this from material evidence. The integration of the Roman economy remains an open question, whether interpreted in terms of price-fixing markets or the dissemination of information. The object distributions through which we track its operation are at best regional. Even the most widely distributed types of transport amphora, of sigillata pottery, or of imperial coinage (Hudson, Chapter 5; Burrell, Chapter 4) have limited distributions within imperial space. The city of Rome and its provisioning (Dyson, Chapter 9) is one of the few exceptions to the rule that economic problems were



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mostly solved locally. The army (Busch, Chapter 6) connected the empire in a different way, but even here regional patterns of recruitment, deployment, and veteran settlement are apparent, except in time of major wars – civil or external. Recent work has shown the value of thinking about the functioning of the system, currently most often in the language of globalization (Pitts and Versluys 2015; Hodos 2017; Belvedere and Bergemann 2021). Questions framed in these terms still often produce answers that emphasize the local. It is impossible to provide a comprehensive account of how this Companion contributes to a general understanding of the Roman world. Sites were the original focus of the project, but the most striking discussions range much further afield. The chapters on maritime, riverine, and terrestrial transport systems (Carlson, Chapter 2; Hitchner, Chapter 3) together provide a valuable overview of a field that has only recently come into sharper focus. Many other chapters consider the development of road systems and maritime routes. After two decades of celebrating the connectivity of the Roman world, it is very good to have specific discussions of how connected places were and with what results. Recent work has transformed what had been settled views of some subjects. Legionary fortresses, far from being grim functional barracks, were architecturally elaborate monuments (Busch, chapter 6). When it comes to Roman technology (Lancaster, Chapter 7), almost everything we thought we knew was wrong: craftsmen were inventive and resourceful, the period was marked by numerous innovations, they were disseminated quite rapidly and put to work productively. Something similar was true of agriculture: faunal remains show the rapid transformation of livestock north of the Alps soon after the Roman conquest, vines capable of withstanding colder temperatures were created during the first century ce, arboriculture spread into new areas of the north, and irrigation into the more arid areas of the Mediterranean basin. New understandings raise new questions, and some chapters will inspire new research projects. Reading these chapters alongside each other, other emerging themes suggest themselves. The limitations of our knowledge are also apparent. Surveying province after province, it is clear how much the archaeology of the Roman Empire remains dominated by the archaeology of its cities. For most provinces, we have records of urban foundations, of their growth and in some cases their shrinkage; a catalogue of civic monuments, especially those paid for by civic benefactors; the temples of the gods; the places where public business was done; and the venues provided for whatever entertainments were popular locally. Private houses remain still less visible in these chapters, and only a few tombs appear. The strength of moving city by city and province by province is the precision and detail with which monumental forms can be mapped. It will be much easier now to compare the cities of the Dalmatian coast with those of Epirus, Macedonia, and southern Greece. There is something to be said, too, from trying to grasp the phenomenon of urbanism as whole. Recent work at the large scale, and the camps that so resembled them, has demonstrated this (Bowman and Wilson 2011; Hanson 2016). Roman cities were strung along roads and seaways like pearls on a necklace. Many chapters indicate the gaps, the rural landscapes still unsurveyed, the steep valleys that ascend into wooded karst mountains, the wildernesses that framed the coastal and inland plains where most Roman archaeology is still concentrated. Landscape archaeology, remote sensing, and rural excavations have been deployed very unevenly across the territory of the former empire. This is not a surprise, but it is a reminder of the persistence of earlier research priorities and the difficulties and cost of implementing new techniques. Most of the rural residences documented are great villas, but we know that most country people did not inhabit them. Projects considering the hinterlands of Romano-British towns are noted by Wilson (Chapter 39), along with the difficulties in classifying the wide range of settlements that have been found there. Regions with few cities are documented for Thrace by Topalilov (Chapter 19), for Galatia by Ströbel (Chapter 22), and for Syria by Kropp (Chapter 27). Wenner (Chapter 30) describes how very recent research has revealed rural landscapes in the province of Arabia organized through hamlets and sanctuaries, rather than villages as in Syria. Reading from

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chapter to chapter we notice differences between urban cultures, but the rural landscapes are far more varied. It is common to write about the connectedness of the Roman world, but just a few tens of kilometers from the coast or a few hundred meters above sea-level and the connections become thinner and thinner. Reading the chapters together suggests some reflections on the current state of our discipline. There is no need to repeat in detail how fortunate we are relative to other archaeological disciplines in the number of researchers, in the vast amount of work that has been done already, and in the existence of carefully worked out taxonomies and typologies, chronologies, and methodologies (Woolf 2004). We possess reference works that are the envy of colleagues working on other times or places: this Companion will augment a powerful set of atlases, topographical lexica, handbooks, and encyclopedias. It is easy to take for granted long-established projects like CSIR, TIR, CIL, RIC, RPC, and LIMC. We have developed series of conferences, learned societies, and journals at the local, national, and international level. Some are quite general, such as the Journal of Roman Archaeology and the American Journal of Archaeology. There are also province-specific journals and series like Germania and Africa Romana, as well as publications devoted to specialist areas, such as the Journal of Military Equipment Studies, Theoretical Roman Archaeology Journal, and Instrumentum. Most of the major journals in our discipline have a website. Open Access publication is on the rise. Communication among researchers working in different countries is easier than ever before. Much of the work reported in these chapters depends on this large, well-resourced disciplinary infrastructure. The question now is what to do with all this, what our priorities should be, and how we should deploy these strengths in the future. Roman archaeology has had traditionally two objectives. Both are exemplified in this Companion. The first is the description of material characteristic of the period, its classification by period and places, and what can be told of its manufacture, use, and final deposition. This rests on conventional tools of typology and formal analysis, now supplemented by many scientific techniques such as petrological examination. More recently archaeological science has moved from the study of Roman ceramics, metals, stone, and the like to the study of biofacts, from exotic seeds and faunal remains to stable isotope analysis of human remains. The second traditional objective of the discipline is to examine the human world through its characteristic artifacts and biofacts. In this case, the objects of investigation are higher-level entities, such as cultural change, human mobility, or economic growth. None of these can be examined directly, but the study of material things – often on a very large scale – allow them to be detected, measured, and described. The difference between these phenomena is fundamental to archaeology of all periods, of course: it was Hawkes’s (1954) remarks that led to concepts of a ladder of inference and the object of middle-range theory. Among the higherlevel entities that receive prominent attention in this Companion are urbanization, the villa, and the Roman state. One respect in which Roman archaeology differs from its sister disciplines is that these higher-order objects of investigation are often also objects of historical study. The Roman Empire is often productively compared to other tributary empires (Alcock et al. 2001; Mutschler and Mittag 2008; Scheidel 2009; Arnason and Raaflaub 2011; Vasunia 2011; Bang, Bayly, and Scheidel 2021). One thing that often stands out is how rich the Roman Empire is in textual evidence. Much even survives in its original material form. This is true of the hundreds of thousands of inscriptions, mainly in Greek or Latin. It is also true of the rare caches of ephemeral documents preserved in the dampest or most arid parts of the empire (in waterlogged deposits on Hadrian’s Wall and in London, for example, or in papyri and parchment from upper Egypt and the Negev desert). One key group of texts – perhaps the widest circulated and most read – were those on coinage (Burrell, Chapter 4). The remainder – the literary



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texts – have survived either because of their cultural prestige or their importance in Roman and post-Roman curricula. Many provide valuable contextual information for understanding material culture. There are costs that come with these advantages. It is often difficult to resist the attraction exercised either by modern historical writing or by ancient texts themselves. One is that archaeologists may direct their attention to problematics devised by historians, whether or not they are suited to material culture. More subtlely, our periodization – except when it deals with individual artifact types – tends to be historical in origin. Strabo and Pliny the Elder are such irresistible guides to the early Roman Empire that they almost merit entries here under the List of Contributors. Many of the chapters in the second section, “Regional Factors,” begin with narratives derived almost entirely from historical sources. This is quite conventional for our discipline. But it would look odd to other kinds of archaeologists, who more often begin from the geographical and environmental context. The Companion does reveal a few regions that must be documented almost entirely from archaeology, places that seem to have “dropped out of history” during the early empire. Interestingly, these include the Mediterranean’s major islands, Sicily (Wilson, Chapter 11), Crete (Sweetman, Chapter 18), and Cyprus (Gordon, Chapter 28). They also include many landscapes like those of the province of Arabia (Wenner, Chapter 30), or inland Thrace (Topalilov, Chapter 19). Recently, a third objective has been identified for Roman archaeology. This is one that begins from artifacts but does not proceed in the direction of dealing with the higher-level objects defined by ancient history. These approaches consider objects as categories and objects as agents, and they particularly exploit the analysis of objects-en-masse to build material-centered accounts of large-scale phenomena (Gosden 2005; Versluys et al. 2014; Van Oyen and Pitts 2017; Mol 2020; Pitts and Versluys 2021). One such phenomenon has been termed the Roman Object Revolution, a sudden increase in the quantities of manufactured goods of all kinds but especially those that were available to large parts of the population, mostly made of ceramic, glass, iron, or bronze (Pitts 2018). Another is the emergence of new kinds of standardization, some demanded by the practicalities of manufacture, transportation, and perhaps fiscal control, others driven by other motivations but facilitated by techniques of mass production that were only newly available in many parts of the empire (Bevan 2014; Van Oyen 2016). Some of this puts into a more rigorous form things that field workers have known for a while. The Roman layers of many sites produce far greater quantities of material than do those of preceding and following periods. Roman objects often display a greater degree of stylistic similarity than those they replaced or that replaced them. Some of this is the product of technologies geared to mechanical production, such as kilns capable of firing thousands of objects at very high temperatures, the use of molds to produce terracotta and bronze objects, or the control systems of Roman mints. But other artifact types exhibit a high level of stylistic similarity even if each was made by hand: this is true of many kinds of stone sculpture, both those in classical iconographies like the Smaller Herculaneum Woman and in new provincial ones like the votive altars of the Rhineland. Mass production, replication, and standardization are fundamental features of Roman material culture that are not prominent in ancient or modern historical narratives. Some of these ideas are too recent to have made much of an impact on this Companion, but current interests in materiality and in Big Data suggest they will become more important in the next decades. It is impossible, finally, not to reflect on the politics of our discipline (Webster and Cooper 1996; van Dommelen 1997; Gardner 2013, 2021; Van Oyen 2015; Hamilakis 2022; Riva and Mira 2022; Blouin and Akrigg, forthcoming). The Companion provides a rich body of testimony for how researchers view these questions and conceived of their roles. Classical archaeology has recently been swept up in a critique of all things “classical.” Many now reject the term, preferring to call themselves Mediterranean archaeologists, or making common

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cause with historical archaeologists, or sheltering under the capacious umbrella of “world archaeology.” The institutional situation varies from country to country. Some Roman archaeologists are more able than others to put distance between themselves and classical philology or ancient history. There are certainly questions to be answered. Classical archaeology was founded on museum collections largely acquired by means that today would be judged illegal and/or unethical. The retention of some of these cultural goods is increasingly contentious. Many of our colleagues who live south of the Mediterranean or east of the Bosporus are still compelled to come to European capitals to study artifacts and documents recovered from their homelands. Many modern research techniques, particularly those that employ archaeological science, are unaffordable for local researchers in much of the former Roman Empire. The discipline was founded by researchers from the north of Europe. It is more common now to take local colleagues into partnership (see Doonan, Chapter 20, for some good examples). More remains to be done. Imbalances of power are a problem for all archaeologists. Most archaeologists are based in relatively wealthy countries, and many conduct fieldwork in areas of the globe (or even of their own countries) that are not well-resourced. Questions over who owns the past and who should benefit from the generation of new knowledge are rightly asked more and more often. Archaeologists of Rome face special dilemmas, deriving from long histories of appropriation. Rome has been claimed as an ancestor for all sorts of purposes since the eighteenth century, and the results are difficult to throw off. Classical canons of art are difficult to separate from hegemonic Western aesthetics. Rome has been taken many times as a model – even an ideal – for modern imperialisms. There has been a dangerous familiarization process, an unconscious identification with what are still regarded by many as “civilizing powers.” Romanists have often been accused of viewing the provinces through the eyes of conquerors and settlers. More has been written about what was achieved by Rome and Romans than about the human costs of those projects. Among those costs, perhaps nothing resonates more today than the disturbing enslavement of millions. Researchers are becoming more sensitive, too, to the slaughter involved in wars of conquest, and the violence entailed in land confiscation and the settlement of Roman colonists on prime territory around the Mediterranean (Dietler 2010; Sweetman 2011; Roymans and Fernández-Götz 2015; Jewell 2019; Fernández-Götz, Maschek, and Roymans 2020; Lavan 2020; Padilla Peralta 2020); in this Companion, see Hernandez, Chapter 16 on Epirus. It is difficult to acknowledge the past and throw it off. Unlike our colleagues in the physical and life sciences, we continue to use techniques developed more than a century ago. Perhaps more importantly, we regularly use materials written long before we were born. The socializing process of working in a discipline with such a deep history is easy to underestimate. One of the ways in which the chapters in this Companion vary is in the extent to which their authors seem comfortable with this past. It is no surprise that Mattingly (Africa, Numidia, and Mauretania, Chapter 33) is among the most aware of these issues, given his major contributions to decolonizing the discipline (Mattingly 1997, 2006, 2011). Hernandez (Chapter 16) provides a useful account of how Balkan politics shaped the archaeology of Epirus. Kropp (Chapter 27) writes movingly of the impacts, humanitarian and scientific, of recent war in Syria. Gordon (Chapter 28) brings out the effects of recent history on our understanding of Cyprus. Wendrich (Chapter 31) is sensitive to the way Western perspectives have shaped past accounts of Egypt over an even longer term. Other chapters, by contrast, offer historiographies in which foreign missions are the main or even the sole actors mentioned. The contributions gathered in this Companion provide much to reflect on about the past of the discipline, and abundant material, too, for planning a different Roman archaeology for the future.



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Biographical Note Greg Woolf is Ronald J. Mellor Distinguished Professor in the Departments of History and Classics and a core member of the Cotsen Institute of Archaeology at the University of California, Los Angeles. He is also Editor in Chief of the Journal of Roman Archaeology. He previously held appointments in the Universities of London, St Andrews, Oxford and Cambridge, and has degrees from the latter two institutions.

Abbreviations CIL = Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum. 1823–. Edited by Deutsche Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin. Paris: A. Franck. CSIR = Corpus signorum Imperii Romani = Corpus der Skulpturen der römischen Welt. 1967–. Edited by Association internationale d’archéologie classique. Vienna: Böhlau in Komm. LIMC = Lexicon iconographicum mythologiae classicae. 1981–1999. Edited by Fondation pour le Lexicon iconographicum mythologiae classicae. Zürich: Artemis Verlag. RIC   = The Roman Imperial Coinage. 1923–. Edited by Harold Mattingly, E. A. Sydenham et al., with revised editions. London: Spink. RPC  = Roman Provincial Coinage. 1992–. Edited by Andrew M. Burnett, Michel Amandry, and Pere Pau Ripollès. London and Paris: British Museum Press, Bibliothèque Nationale de France. TIR  = Tabula Imperii Romani. 1934–. Edited by TIR-FOR International Commission. Great Britain: Ordnance, etc.

REFERENCES Alcock, Susan E., Terence D’Altroy, Kathleen D. Morrison, and Carla M. Sinopoli, eds. 2001. Empires. Perspectives from Archaeology and History. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Alcock, Susan E., Mariana Egri, and James F. D. Frakes, eds. 2016. Beyond Boundaries. Connecting Visual Cultures in the Provinces of Ancient Rome. Los Angeles: Getty Publications. Arnason, Johann P., and Kurt Raaflaub. 2011. The Roman Empire in Context. Historical and Comparative Perspectives. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell. Bang, Peter Fibiger, Christopher A. Bayly, and Walter Scheidel, eds. 2021. The Oxford World History of Empire. New York: Oxford University Press. Belvedere, Oscar, and Johannes Bergemann, eds. 2021. Imperium Romanum: Romanization Between Colonization and Globalization. Palermo: Palermo University Press. Bevan, Andrew. 2014. “Mediterranean Containerization.” Current Anthropology, 55, no. 4: 387–418. Blouin, Katherine. 2014. Triangular Landscapes. Environment, Society, and the State in the Nile Delta under Roman Rule. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Blouin, Katherine, and Ben Akrigg, eds. Forthcoming. Routledge Handbook of Classics and Postcolonial Theory. Malden, MA: Routledge. Bowman, Alan, and Andrew Wilson, eds. 2011. Settlement, Urbanization, and Population, Oxford Studies on the Roman Economy. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Dietler, Michael. 2010. Archaeologies of Colonialism. Consumption, Entanglement, and Violence in Ancient Mediterranean France. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press.

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Fernández-Götz, Manuel, Dominic Maschek, and Nico Roymans. 2020. “The Dark Side of the Empire. Roman Expansionism between Object Agency and Predatory Regime.” Antiquity, 94, no. 378: 1630–1639. Franconi, Tyler V., ed. 2017. Fluvial Landscapes in the Roman Worlds. Providence, RI: Journal of Roman Archaeology. Gardner, Andrew. 2013. “Thinking about Roman Imperialism. Postcolonialism, Globalisation and Beyond?” Britannia, 44: 1–25. Gardner, Andrew. 2021. “Post-colonial Rome, and Beyond. Religion, Power and Identity.” Revista de historiografía, 36: 309–320. Gosden, Chris. 2005. “What Do Objects Want?” Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory, 12, no. 3: 193–211. Haldon, John F., Neil Roberts, Adam Izdebski, Dominik Fleitmann, Michael McCormick, Marica Cassis, Owen Doonan et al. 2014. “The Climate and Environment of Byzantine Anatolia. Integrating Science, History and Archaeology.” Journal of Interdisciplinary History, 45: 113–161. Hamilakis, Yannis. 2022. Archaeology, Nation, and Race. Confronting the Past, Decolonizing the Future in Greece and Israel. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hanson, J. S. 2016. An Urban Geography of the Roman World. 100 BC – AD 300. Archaeopress Roman Archaeology 18. Oxford: Archeopress. Harper, Kyle. 2017. The Fate of Rome. Climate, Disease and The End of an Empire. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Harris, William Vernon, ed. 2005. Rethinking the Mediterranean. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Harris, William Vernon, ed. 2013. The Ancient Mediterranean Environment between Science and History. Leiden: Brill. Hawkes, Christopher. 1954. “Wenner-Gren Foundation Supper Conference: Archeological Theory and Method: Some Suggestions from the Old World.” American Anthropologist, 56, no. 2: 155–168. Hodos, Tamar, ed. 2017. The Routledge Handbook of Archaeology and Globalization. Abingdon: Routledge. Horden, Peregrine, and Nicholas Purcell. 2000. The Corrupting Sea. A Study of Mediterranean History. Oxford: Blackwell Publishers. Jewell, Evan. 2019. “(Re)moving the Masses: Colonisation as Domestic Displacement in the Roman Republic.” Humanities, 8, no. 66: 1–41. Lavan, Myles. 2020. “Devastation. The Destruction of Populations and Human Landscapes and the Roman Imperial Project.” In Reconsidering Roman Power. Roman, Greek, Jewish and Christian Perceptions and Reactions, edited by Katell Berthelot, 179–205. Rome: Publications de l’École française de Rome. Mattingly, David, ed. 1997. Dialogues in Roman Imperialism. Power, Discourse and Discrepant Experience in the Roman Empire. Portsmouth, RI: Journal of Roman Archaeology. Mattingly, David. 2006. An Imperial Possession. Britain in the Roman Empire 54 BC–AD 409. London: Allen Lane. Mattingly, David. 2011. Imperialism, Power and Identity. Experiencing the Roman Empire. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Mol, Eva. 2020. “Roman Cyborgs! On Significant Otherness, Material Absence, and Virtual Presence in the Archaeology of Roman Religion.” European Journal of Archaeology, 23, no. 1: 64–81. Mutschler, Fritz-Heiner, and Achim Mittag, eds. 2008. Conceiving the Empire. China and Rome Compared. Oxford: Oxford. Padilla Peralta, Dan-el. 2020. “Epistemicide: The Roman Case.” Classica. Revista Brasileira de Estudos Clássicos, 33, no. 2: 151–186. Pitts, Martin. 2007. “The Emperor’s New Clothes? The Utility of Identity in Roman Archaeology.” American Journal of Archaeology, 111, no. 4: 693–713. Pitts, Martin. 2018. The Roman Object Revolution. Objectscapes and Intra-Cultural Connectivity in Northwest Europe. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press. Pitts, Martin, and Miguel John Versluys, eds. 2015. Globalisation and The Roman World. World History, Connectivity and Material Culture. New York: Cambridge University Press.



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Pitts, Martin, and Miguel John Versluys. 2021. “Objectscapes. A Manifesto for Investigating the Impacts of Object Flows on Past Societies.” Antiquity, 95, no. 380: 367–381. Raja, Rubina, and Jörg Rüpke, eds. 2015. A Companion to the Archaeology of Religion in the Ancient World. Chichester: Wiley Blackwell. Riva, Corinna, and Ignasi Grau Mira. 2022. “Global Archaeology and Microhistorical Analysis. Connecting Scales in the 1st-milennium B.C. Mediterranean.” Archaeological Dialogues, 29, no. 1: 1–14. doi: 10.1017/S1380203822000101. Roymans, Nico, and Manuel Fernández-Götz. 2015. “Caesar in Gaul. New Perspectives on the Archaeology of Mass Violence.” In TRAC 2014. Proceedings of the Twenty-Fourth Annual Theoretical Archaeology Conference, edited by Tom Brindle, Martyn Allen, Emma Durham, and Alex Smith, 70– 80. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Scheidel, Walter. 2004. “Human Mobility in Roman Italy I: The Free Population.” Journal of Roman Studies, 94: 1–26. Scheidel, Walter. 2005. “Human Mobility in Roman Italy, II: The Slave Population.” Journal of Roman Studies, 95: 64–79. Scheidel, Walter, ed. 2009. Rome and China. Comparative Perspectives on Ancient World Empires. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Sweetman, Rebecca J., ed. 2011. Roman Colonies in the First Century of Their Foundation. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Tacoma, Laurens E. 2016. Moving Romans. Migration to Rome in the Principate. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Talbert, Richard J. A., ed. 2000. Barrington Atlas of the Greek and Roman World. Princeton: Princeton University Press. van Dommelen, Peter. 1997. “Colonial Constructs. Colonialism and Archaeology in the Mediterranean.” World Archaeology, 28, no. 3: 305–322. Van Oyen, Astrid. 2015. “Deconstructing and Reassembling the Romanization Debate through the Lens of Postcolonial Theory: From Global to Local and Back?” Terra Incognita, 6: 205–225. Van Oyen, Astrid. 2016. How Things Make History. The Roman Empire and Its Terra Sigillata Pottery. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press. Van Oyen, Astrid, and Martin Pitts, eds. 2017. Materializing Roman Histories. Oxford: Oxbow. Vasunia, Phiroze. 2011. “The Comparative Study of Empires.” Journal of Roman Studies, 101: 222–237. Versluys, Miguel John, Richard Hingley, Tamar Hodos, Tesse D. Stek, Peter van Dommelen, and Greg Woolf. 2014. “Understanding Objects in Motion. An Archaeological Dialogue on Romanization.” Archaeological Dialogues, 21, no. 1: 1–64. Webster, Jane, and Nicholas J. Cooper, eds. 1996. Roman Imperialism: Post-colonial Perspectives. Proceedings of a Symposium Held at Leicester University in November 1994. Leicester: University of Leicester, School of Archaeological Studies. Woolf, Greg. 2004. “The Present State and Future Scope of Roman Archaeology: A Comment.” American Journal of Archaeology, 108, no. 3: 417–428. Woolf, Greg. 2013. “Female Mobility in the Roman West.” In Women and the Roman City in the Latin West, edited by Emily Hemelrijk and Greg Woolf, 351–368. Leiden: Brill. Woolf, Greg. 2016. “Movers and Stayers.” In Migration and Mobility in the Early Roman Empire, edited by Luuk de Ligt and Laurens E. Tacoma, 440–463. Leiden: Brill.

PART II 

REGIONAL FACTORS

CHAPTER 9

The City of Rome Stephen Dyson

From Republic to Empire When Octavian completed his consolidation of power and settled himself in Rome, he found an old city; Rome had become a major urban center by the late sixth century bce (Figure 9.1). It was also a large city, approaching one million people by the late first century bce. If not the largest center, it ranked with Alexandria among the top five in population. It had long been ethnically diverse: in Tarquinian Rome, Romans and Latins rubbed elbows with Greeks, Etruscans, and Carthaginians. By 31 bce, every ethnic group in the Mediterranean and many from lands beyond were present in Rome. It was also a politically, socially, and economically complex city. Unlike most other very large cities in the Mediterranean, the core population was formed of citizens very much involved in at least some aspects of the political process. One of the most important leaders of the previous generation had been Publius Clodius, who mastered the art of rallying the citizen populace for his political faction. One of the major tasks of Octavian and his successors was turning the Romans from active to passive citizens, conscious of political right but not of formal political action. Social and economic structures were shaped by other aspects of Rome’s complexity. Rome had from the days of Romulus been a city of immigrants. That process continued. Many continued to arrive as slave captives. However, many others, from the very rich to the very poor, continued to come to Rome of their own free will. Many died soon and miserably. Others made a success of their stay. One of the most distinctive aspects of Roman urban demography was the state’s flexible policy toward manumissions. Unlike comparable slave societies such as classical Athens, large numbers of Roman slaves could obtain their freedom. Not only were they freed but they could obtain Roman citizenship. That process is well-documented in the hundreds of

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 1, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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Figure 9.1  Plan of the city of Rome with major monuments mentioned in this chapter. By John Wallrodt.

tombstones set up by manumitted slaves, many dated to this key transitional period between Republic and empire. While the emperors liked to stress how they transformed the city, they in fact inherited an urban center with what passed in antiquity (and indeed until the later nineteenth century) as a decent infrastructure. The Tarquins applied the Etruscan expertise in drainage to the central area of the city. The result was the storm drain known as the Cloaca Maxima. The emperors repaired and improved, but did not massively expand, the system. Rome never had a sewer system in our sense of the word, but neither did London until the middle of the nineteenth century. By the end of the fourth century bce, the Romans had mastered the engineering that allowed them to bring fresh water into the city in large quantities. By the end of the Republic the system had been put in place, which the emperors would only expand and improve. The citizens could drink fresh water, bathe in it, and use it to flush the streets. Population growth in the mid to late Republican city meant that residential structures had to change as well. Rome of the later Republic became a city of ramshackle apartment structures that rose several stories. The triumvir Crassus became known as a slumlord, but Cicero also invested in urban rental property. Presumably, the conversion to cement construction of such buildings had started under the Republic. Large warehouse complexes constructed of concrete had already appeared by the second century bce, and presumably the material was increasingly used in a greater range of structures. The late Republican city of Rome was about political process, worship of the gods, and individual and collective memory. All of those were products of the long history of the free Republic. It was those areas that the emperors had to transform, if their institution was to survive. That story of transformation will be the central theme of much of this chapter.



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The Roman Forum Octavian, who was to assume the title of Augustus, claimed to have restored the Republic in 27 bce. It is not the aim of this chapter to pursue this fraud in detail. What is of interest is its physical manifestation in the city. The best place to start is the Forum, which had emerged as a civic space probably in the late sixth century bce. During the four and a half centuries of the free Republic, both the senatus and the populus of the senatus populusque Romanus had placed their institutions, spaces, and historical memories in the Forum (Figure 9.2). The agents of the new order had to transform those spaces to reflect the new ideology. Since the regime stressed a fake continuity, such transformations had to be subtle but effective. The process of decontexualizing the major political monuments had started with Julius Caesar. The destruction of the Senate house (Curia) by rioters after the funeral of Clodius provided the opportunity to reorient it, reorient the Rostra (speaker’s platform), and – to a large degree – eliminate the meeting place of the people, the Comitium. Those three spaces not only served as scenes of Republican governance but were places loaded with monumental memory. Some monuments certainly remained, but others disappeared. Scenes associated with the death of Julius Caesar and the second triumvirate’s seizure of power took place in this evolving civic space (Figure 9.2). Mark Antony spoke from the new Rostra and the head of Cicero was displayed there. The Temple of the divine Julius Caesar rose in the midst of basilicae erected by representatives of great senatorial families: that on the south side, associated with the family of the Sempronii, was replaced by a massive basilica commissioned by Julius Caesar; the northern one, associated with the Aemilii, continued to bear the name of the ancient family, but its structure and propagandistic displays reflected the agenda of Augustus. Major temples like that of Concordia, Castor, and Pollux were rebuilt in the new imperial style and bore dedications of members of the imperial house.

The Campus Martius The other major civic space soon transformed by the new imperial order was the Campus Martius (Figure 9.3). Its original purpose had been military, but it soon acquired complex civic and religious associations, especially in the southern areas close to the city center. Most important were the venues of major assembly, the Comitia Centuriata and the places of election for the highest state offices. The Campus Martius was also a place of deep memory, best represented by the many manubial temples erected by the great Republican generals to commemorate their victories. The new order moved quickly to eliminate both public elections and public assemblies. The type of public meeting that had produced disorders at the funeral of Julius Caesar could not be tolerated. Sporadic, highly formalized assemblies, presided over by the emperor and held in the Forum, continued into the fourth century ce, but they were not the foci of political force. Elections under the Republic had been largely held in the Campus Martius. They too were foci of political disorder, something poorly tolerated under the Principate. The few elections still held became the domain of the Senate. The old comitia space of the Campus Martius was converted to other uses and endowed with other messages. The manubial temples largely remained intact, although certain spaces like that of the Porticus Octaviae acquired other associations. As the Campus Martius acquired greater cultural emphasis, more stress was placed on the works of art than on memories of the heroic deeds of the great generals of the Republic. Even older, more state-centered temples came to serve the needs of the new order. The early fifth century bce Temple of Apollo Medicus, dedicated to the god of healing after

Figure 9.2  Plan of the Roman Forum: Above, under the Republic; below, Julio-Claudian. By John Wallrodt.



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Figure 9.3  Plan of the Campus Martius after Augustus’ reign. By John Wallrodt.

a plague, now became a new style manubial temple, of Apollo Sosianus, celebrating a henchman’s victories under the auspices of the emperor. Culture came to dominate that ancient political space. Pompey the Great had set the tone when he constructed the first permanent theater complex in Rome. It included not only the massive theater but also a porticoed garden and meeting rooms. One of the latter was the locus of the assassination of Julius Caesar, but in spite of that and the complex’s association with Pompey, Augustus treated it with respect: he restored the complex without inscribing his own name on it, and on a marble arch he placed the statue of Pompey, at whose base Julius Caesar had been assassinated. Pompey’s structure set the precedent for turning part of the Campus Martius into Rome’s entertainment district. A combination of tradition plus elite rivalries had prevented the

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construction of a permanent theater under the Republic; Pompey had to defend his theater as part of a temple of Venus. That changed under Augustus. He was personally enthusiastic about theatrical performance and appreciated its potential for a controlled distraction of the Roman people. Two other theaters were built in the same area, one dedicated to the memory of his young nephew Marcellus, the other erected by his adherent Cornelius Balbus. A century later, the emperor Domitian erected in the Campus an odeon for musical performance and a stadium (now the Piazza Navona) for Greek-style athletics. Other centers for refined leisure were added. The area where voting had once taken place became a culture park. Augustus and his henchman, M. Vipsanius Agrippa, had pushed a new water distribution agenda to take over another legacy from the Republic. A new branch brought water into the Campus, where it supplied an Agrippan waterpark. Since it was outside the city’s sacred boundary, the pomerium, the Campus Martius was suitable for burial, and had been so used sporadically under the Republic. Sulla and Caesar were buried there. Most elite burials, however, had been for centuries concentrated on the great roads leading in and out of the city. That world of memory could not be obliterated, but alternative concentrations had to be created. That started early and boldly with the decision to erect the Mausoleum of Augustus at the northern edge of the Campus. It flanked the Via Flaminia, the trunk road that connected the city with the increasingly important northern provinces and frontiers. Initially, the mausoleum was emphatically placed at Rome to counter Mark Antony’s rumored intention to be buried at Alexandria. But it grew to become a complex with different components, each of which celebrated different aspects of Augustus’ personal and familial ideology. Most famous is the Ara Pacis, ostensibly created to celebrate the consolidation of Roman power in the West, but at core an affirmation of Augustan family ideology. The two were united by a large sundial laid out in the pavement of the Campus Martius, which cosmically connected tomb and altar. Augustus was buried in the Mausoleum in 14 ce. Flanking its main door were the bronze tablets of the so-called Res Gestae divi Augusti, an autobiographical account of the career of Augustus, which was duplicated and posted throughout the empire. The Mausoleum continued as the burial place of the Julio-Claudian dynasty. After a hiatus, the use of the Campus Martius as a burial place revived with the Antonines. Hadrian was buried in a massive new mausoleum across the Tiber at the edge of the area, but the temple to his cult was located in the center of the Campus. Temples were erected there to several members of the dynasty, both male and female. The most conspicuous monument today is the column erected by Marcus Aurelius to celebrate his victories on the Danube.

Gardens and the Palatine The “gardening” of the Campus Martius reflected the more widespread development of gardens in the city, which had begun in the late Republic with the spread of villa gardens. The Villa of Lucullus on the Pincian Hill may have represented an early example. Caesar had gardens across the Tiber that he willed to the Roman people. The historian Sallust had extensive gardens in the area of the Pincian and Quirinal hills, which became imperial patrimony. The most publicized gardens in Rome were those of Maecenas, the cultural advisor of Augustus. He acquired land in the Esquiline area at the edge of the city. It had been used for noxious purposes, including open burial pits for the poorest of the city’s inhabitants. Those were covered, and the area was landscaped and devoted to cultural soirees attended by both the emperor and Maecenas. One such center of entertainment in the gardens may have been the theater-like “Auditorium” with fountain and garden paintings found in the nineteenth century. Another important area transformed by Augustus and his successors was the Palatine Hill. By the end of the Republic, the area from the top of the hill to the end of the north slope at the border of the Regia and the Temple of Vesta was crammed with elite dwellings. The



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extended family of Augustus owned property there. The remains of the house identified with the family of Livia have long been known. Another complex of rooms with especially wellpreserved paintings, generally associated with Augustus, has also been excavated on the Palatine. The Augustan propagandists stressed the simplicity of the princeps’ dwelling, a purposeful contrast to the opulence of the late Republic. It is sometimes forgotten, however, that the house itself was only one element in a complex of structures that added up to something more impressive. Most important was the Temple of Apollo that dominated that section of the hill. Apollo was associated with Actium, and here was celebrated more in his Greek guise. There were also sculpture gardens, and places for the Senate and the Vestal Virgins. Focus on a single element makes one forget the impressive complexity of the whole. What is striking is how slowly the imperial complex expanded beyond the parameters set by Augustus. Imperial modesty was laudable, but the functions of the princeps’ government were expanding. Tiberius made some additions to the Palatine complex. The fire of 64 ce destroyed sections of the Palatine, and Nero incorporated elements into his Golden House. The early Flavians seem to have focused more of their activities in the Quirinal area. It was the last of the Flavians, Domitian (81–97 ce), who created the Palatine complex made famous or infamous in later Roman history. The leveling undertaken to support the new palace buried much of the “House of Augustus.” The complete complex had some halfdozen components. Most important was the so-called Aula Regia, the central receiving room or imperial atrium. It was a lofty, vaulted room with stone inlays and massive sculptures of figures like Hercules. Behind the Aula Regia was a peristyle garden and a large dining room decorated with fine marbles and fountains. The residential area, rooms of diverse size and shape with varied levels and viewpoints, spread out toward the Circus Maximus. The largest element in the complex was the garden in the form of a circus, or more likely, given Domitian’s preferences, in the form of a stadion. This part of the palace had a balcony area overlooking the Circus Maximus, from which the emperor could enjoy the games with a high level of security, always important for such a paranoid emperor as Domitian. We do not have a clear sense of how the immediately succeeding emperors used the palace complex. Other sources – literary, epigraphic, and archaeological – document the expansion of the bureaucracy, much of which worked and probably lived on the Palatine. As emperors spent less and less time in Rome, the Palatine became more of a symbol of power than a seat of government. Its role diminished further when the capital moved to Constantinople. Still, the Byzantine government kept some claim on it well into the early Middle Ages.

The Imperial Fora All of the spaces and structures discussed so far saw complex transformations from Republic to early empire. A very new direction was taken by the series of imperial fora, which started with the Forum of Caesar and was completed with the mega-complex of Trajan (Figure 9.4). Caesar started the first combination of temple and portico that was to be dedicated to Venus Genetrix. It was placed adjacent to the Republican Forum, and his new Senate house was oriented to it. But Caesar’s assassination and the rise of Augustus sent this format in different directions. The structure that reset the tone was the Forum that bore the princeps’ name. It had all of the basic elements found in the Republican Forum (temple, meeting room, dedicatory sculpture, dedicatory inscriptions), but they were now tightly organized around the propagandistic program of the new emperor. The main temple was dedicated to Mars the Avenger to commemorate the defeat of the assassins of the adoptive father of Augustus. The frieze line of the forecourt bore caryatids, which recalled the Hellenic heritage so beloved of Augustus.

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Figure 9.4  Plan of the Imperial Fora after Hadrian’s reign. By John Wallrodt.

They were paired with images of Zeus Ammon from Egyptian Siwah, recalling the final victory over Cleopatra and Mark Antony, but also the exploits of Alexander the Great. The great temple of Mars was flanked by hemicycles decorated with sculptural groups and dedicatory inscriptions spelling out the distinctive Augustan view of Roman history. On one side were statues and inscriptions that celebrated the great heroes of Roman history. On the other



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were the kings of Alba Longa – obscure rulers, but important for being genealogical links between the Trojan Aeneas (ancestor of Caesar, and thus Augustus) and the progenitors of Romulus. The Forum of Augustus immediately became one of the greatest showplaces in Rome. The Capitoline could surpass it in collective splendor, but that space was multivalent, a summation of the great deeds of the Republic. The new forum was focused on two men, father and adopted son, their lineage and their accomplishment. The importance of the new forum in the emerging imperial order was shown by the fact that elements from it were imitated in several Roman towns, from Pompeii in Campania to Merida in Spain. The Augustan precedent was followed in varied forms by several of his successors. The new Flavian dynasty created its own memorial forum, the so-called Temple of Peace. It was graced with gardens and an art collection, but did not have the complex ideological agenda of the Augustan Forum. Domitian, the final Flavian emperor, honored Minerva, his patron goddess, with a shrine, which also served as a monumental passageway, the Forum Transitorium. The temple honored the goddess, as did the frieze decoration, which depicted mythic figures who had challenged the deity. The development of the huge complex of imperial fora culminated in the great Forum of Trajan. While sharing some elements of the Forum of Augustus, it had many unique and distinctive fixtures. Its size was gargantuan, equaling that of all of the other fora combined. While the other fora had patron deities, albeit closely associated with their builders, that of Trajan was focused on the emperor and his wife. The temple, which had been the focus of each forum, was here dedicated to the divine imperial pair. The Forum of Trajan was also their burial place, in spite of the fact that it lay within the pomerium. Their ashes were deposited in the base of the column whose sculpted frieze celebrated the victories of the emperor in his wars against the Dacians.

Water In their efforts to build on the Republican legacy, put their own distinctive impress on the city, and distract the citizens from any significant civic involvement, the emperors turned the world of water to their own agendas. The great Republican tradition of aqueduct construction had provided Rome with a water supply that surpassed that of any city in the Mediterranean to that moment – and indeed, was not equaled in Europe and America until the mid-nineteenth century. While the aqueducts bore the name of the great Republican families, their purpose was practical in providing water mainly for household, craft, and bathing purposes. It is likely that Rome was straining the capacity of the water supply system when Augustus consolidated his power. He also saw the importance of attaching the Republican tradition of aqueduct creation to the new imperial order. During his long reign, he added massively to Rome’s water supply. Many parts of the city saw their first aqueduct water or a significant improvement on the old Republican system. The basic aim of this improved imperial water supply was the same as that of the older Republican system – that is, to feed fountains and basins that provided clean water for drinking, household use, and craft purposes. As in modern Rome, the fountains presumably ran continuously, serving a street cleaning function as well. Like modern Romans, the ancients became water connoisseurs, comparing the outflows of the different aqueducts. Augustus also inaugurated a program of water use for recreation and for display. That new policy was made particularly manifest in the Campus Martius, that stronghold of Republican political negotium, now transformed into a world of otium shaped by imperial display (Figure 9.3). The area, where probably few people lived, received one of the new aqueduct lines to feed new foci of leisure, such as the stagnum (great pool) of Agrippa.

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It also fed the new public bath structure that Agrippa built in the Campus area. It was, as far as we know, the first such structure in Rome. Republican Rome had many neighborhood baths, similar in form and function to the baths known from Pompeii. They continued to operate in large numbers in the imperial city and featured prominently in the late imperial inventories of municipal structures. They played a vital role in neighborhood cohesion, something important to the emperors. Later emperors continued to build on and expand the system of great public baths (thermae). They were designed around the old system of frigidarium, tepidarium, and caldarium but were created on a new, massive scale, which posed new engineering challenges in areas like heating and water supply. The three biggest of the thermae, those of Trajan, Caracalla, and Diocletian, were set in different parts of the city. Each could accommodate hundreds if not thousands of bathers. Decorated with fancy imported marbles and graced with art collections, they provided entertainment and cultural events, and ran continuously. It is not clear who used the baths or for what purpose. They were not very suitable for a quick bath, and such an assembly of Romans, even in a state of undress, would have made the imperial authorities nervous. It is likely that they were used mainly as objects of tourist display and were not regularly used by the ordinary citizens. Another feature of Renaissance to modern Rome that the emperors initiated was the creation of monumental fountains with sculptural displays designed around thematic presentations. The names of some appear in the late antique inventories. The most substantial remains are found around the Caelian Hill: the so-called Trophies of Marius, inaccurately identified with a late Republican trophy monument, is instead a monument of the Severan era.

Rome’s Port and Commerce Water could be monumentalized. Grain, wine, and olive oil could not, yet they were almost as important for the Roman populace. Their supply became an increasing challenge for an expanding city, and they would test Roman imperial bureaucrats in the same way that they had Republican officials. It is not the purpose here to describe the whole complex supply system that moved grain from places like Egypt, North Africa, or Sardinia to Rome. However, in the same way that one cannot discuss the economy of classical Athens without considering Piraeus, so one cannot understand ancient Rome without a consideration of Ostia (Figure 9.5). Rome had a riverfront and, 30 km away, a river mouth that connected to the Mediterranean, but not a harbor facility in the normal sense of that word until Trajan created his artificial harbor at Portus. Ostia had started as a defensive point and emporion at the river mouth. It lost the former role, but expanded the latter. Its lack of much in the way of civic features under the Republic shows that it was in many respects considered an extension of Rome, and it remained so under the empire, in spite of the development of certain publicly oriented civic and religious institutions and constructions. That was publicly articulated by the stationing there of a unit of the Rome-centered vigiles, whose role was to fight fires and help maintain civic order. Ostia was transformed physically in the late first to second century by the creation of multistoried housing insulae built of brick and concrete; excavation under Mussolini made them highly visible. This was again an extension of developments in Rome itself, where both the Severan era Marble Plan and the fourth century ce inventories of building types show that Rome became a city of apartment blocks. Part of that was the result of fires, especially the great fire under Nero: building codes afterward required improvements in spacing between buildings, use of fireproof materials, height restrictions, and provisions for firefighting.



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Figure 9.5  Map of Ostia and Portus. By John Wallrodt.

The port facilities of Rome were enhanced under Claudius, Nero, and Trajan with the construction of a new port facility north of the Tiber. The Claudian harbor, completed under Nero, was a traditional artificial harbor basin protected by moles. It provided only limited protection, as major storms destroyed ships anchored in the Claudian harbor. Trajan improved this situation with the creation of a hexagonal harbor basin behind the Claudian harbor. It had warehouses and a canal that connected to the Tiber, complementing but not replacing the facilities at Ostia. There is little archaeological attestation for the complex tow-way system that enabled ships to carry supplies up the river to Rome. Better documented are the facilities that received and processed the goods. The right bank of the Tiber was lined with markets and warehouses from the Campus Martius down to the Aventine Hill and beyond. It accommodated not only boats coming up from Ostia but also those that floated down the Tiber from interior Latium. The Forum Boarium had been Rome’s first international marketplace, and it continued to serve that function into the empire. Market complexes of the later Republic and the empire are documented there. The surviving monument that bests embodies that commercial role is the gate/arch erected by the Argentarii to honor the Severan dynasty. The structure, largely intact, has survived because it was built into the adjacent church of San Giorgio in Velabro.

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Another important commercial area, which bears the appropriate name Emporion, was located at the base of the Aventine Hill. Its complex of warehouses is partly documented on the Severan Marble Plan (see below) and in surviving physical remains associated with either the Porticus Aemilia or the Navalia. Two types of cargoes are abundantly documented here. The traditional name for part of the area was the Marmorata, a reference to the quantities of luxury building stone found nearby, reflecting the cargoes of stone from different parts of the empire unloaded, worked, and stored here, awaiting transport to specific building sites. In the same area was Monte Testaccio. As the name suggests, it was an artificial mound formed of millions of fragments of amphorae, dumped after their contents had been emptied, providing a visual sense of the extent of trade. Study of amphora shapes and stamps show that the accumulated debris represented the influx of Spanish olive oil over a relatively short period of time. The long stretch of river bank along the Campus Martius was another area with extensive unloading facilities. Building materials were unloaded close to the many building sites in the area. So was much of the grain used to provide a basic subsidized food supply to the citizen populace. This annona system had started in the late Republic and was increasingly bureaucratized under the emperors. A significant part of the process of documenting eligibility and distributing the grain itself took place in the complex known as the Porticus Minucia, located not far from today’s Largo Argentina.

Public Spectacles Before turning to the increasingly decentralized city where most of the populace lived out their lives, it will be useful to look at the world of formal public entertainment, which the emperors took over from the elite of the Republic and continued to adapt to their own purposes. They survive in the public imagination today as theaters, amphitheaters, and circuses. Each had large and complex physical spaces that became the focus of imperial attention at a variety of levels. The major transformation of theatrical culture both physically and institutionally took place under Augustus, as has already been discussed. Little has been said, however, about that quintessential Roman structure, the amphitheater, for it played little role in the capital before the days of the Flavians. Gladiators had a long history in Republican popular culture, and were especially associated with funerals, though they were also used as bodyguards. Their blood-drenched, expiatory combats took place in the Roman Forum. The amphitheater as an architectural form is first documented in Campania. That at Capua was associated with the rebellion of Spartacus. They were documented in other areas of Italy and in southern France before they appeared in Rome. The Augustan general Statilius Taurus built an amphitheater in the Campus Martius area, but very little is known about it. Amphitheater culture came to Rome with the construction of the Colosseum by the Flavian emperors. The decision to build this amphitheater reflected a distinctive moment in imperial history and in the development of the city. The Great Fire of 64 ce had devastated a large area of the central city. Nero decided to devote much of the space to his own villa, the “Golden House,” located not in the suburbs or the countryside but close to the heart of Rome. The centerpiece of this complex was a large lake. With the death of Nero, the end of his dynasty, and the installation of the Flavians as emperors, the Golden House acquired only negative associations and had to be dismantled. The lake was drained and covered with a thick pad of cement. On that was erected the Colosseum, or to give it the proper name, the Flavian Amphitheater, Rome’s first permanent structure of that sort. The modern name derives from the colossal statue of Nero, transformed into that of the god Helios, which was later moved next to the amphitheater. The statue perished in the Middle Ages, but the



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association with the amphitheater remained. Other buildings accumulated around the Colosseum, including the Ludus Magnus, a training school for gladiators, and a large set of public baths built by Titus. Not far away, Trajan erected the first of Rome’s three mega-baths. The oldest entertainment complex remained the most important: the Circus Maximus, located at the foot of the Palatine Hill across the valley from the Aventine. The first structure was created in the period of the Tarquin kings. Its function as a course for chariot racing linked it to the elite world of the archaic Mediterranean, though its festivals with their races continued through the Republic. Their importance was emphasized by its location between the patrician Palatine Hill and the plebeian Aventine. As the emperors moved to suppress civic and social institutions associated with the Republic, the world of the Circus Maximus remained largely unchanged. Its teams or factions, especially the “Blues” and the “Greens,” remained potent forces in the social and even the political life of the city. The emperors became active partisans, visiting the stables of their favorite faction. When Domitian developed the palace complex on the Palatine, special effort was made to link it to the Circus, albeit with secure positioning and with secure escape routes. Interaction with the emperor at the games remained the last major mode of communication between the emperor and the Roman people. The organization of protests seems to have been based on fan groups within the faction colors. More than one minister paid with his life for his failure to placate the factions that still structured the Roman people. Significantly, the circus and its worlds were the major physical legacy of Republican Rome to be transferred to the new capital in Constantinople. There, the Hippodrome continued the tradition of being a focus for popular protest. In the early sixth century ce, riots in the Hippodrome almost overthrew the rule of Justinian.

Regions and Neighborhoods Augustus made every effort to neutralize and destroy the political world of the Roman people. Most of all, he wanted them to pass their days in their urban neighborhoods, focused on occupation, family, religion, and social life. He and his advisers remembered the days when a demagogue like Clodius could rally his followers to close their shops, take up their cudgels, and apply muscular political action in the Forum and the Comitia. Our sense of the imperial city beyond the public spaces derives from two major sources. The first is the Marble Plan, fragments of which have been recovered from the area of the Flavian Temple of Peace. It shows Rome in the Severan era, just before the crisis of the third century ce. While very fragmentary, it does provide a sense of popular quarters of the city. It is a world of winding streets, fronted by shops. The dominant residential type is the apartment block, although other types of residences, including old-fashioned atrium houses, also appear. The other source is the fourth century regionaries, documents that catalog the types of structures that were to be found in each political zone of the city. Each area had a mix of residences, public amenities like baths, and centers for the processing and distribution of the annona. Again, the emphasis was on autonomy and self-sufficiency. Both reflect the Augustan efforts to reorder the city. He created the fourteen regions that are still the basis for civic organization in Rome today. Each of these regions was divided into vici, totaling 265. At the heart of each vicus was an altar of the imperial cult, which would be administered by the local officials known as vicomagistri. The style of the altars was Augustan neoclassical, with the vicomagistri appearing as miniature versions of the officials on the Ara Pacis. They were in fact generally freedmen, who served as the eyes and ears of the emperor in the local districts of the city.

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Temples and Shrines The vicomagistri were in large part religious officials, and their presence reminds us of continuity and change in religious practices in the city. The great traditional cults continued. As age and natural disasters like fire required rebuilding, they reappeared more elegant and more closely identified with the imperial rulers. By the third century ce, little in the way of religious memory extended back beyond the Augustan Age. New cult concepts were regularly appearing, some of them endorsed by the emperor. As part of the Augustan transformation of the Campus Martius, Agrippa dedicated a Pantheon, embracing a variety of deities. It was totally redesigned and rebuilt under Trajan and Hadrian, using the brick and concrete vaulting and facings of stone drawn from quarries all over the empire that had become the dominant style by the second century ce. Stamps on the bricks confirm the work as that of Trajan and then Hadrian, but the dedication on the façade still proclaimed its initial dedication by Agrippa. Between the Colosseum and the Forum, Hadrian built a massive podium temple with back-to-back cellae dedicated to Venus and to Roma, founding goddess and the divine abstraction of the city itself. Like the Pantheon, it had a major metamorphosis. Maxentius, the last emperor closely identified with the city of Rome, redesigned and rebuilt it in the impressive form still partly visible today. Rome had always been exceptional in its willingness to welcome foreign deities. Indeed it possessed a ritual called evocatio to summon the gods of its enemies to Rome; this had included traditional Italic gods and goddesses, but also more exotic deities. On the Palatine was located the Temple of the Magna Mater, a goddess from Pessinus, later in the province Galatia. The cult of Magna Mater, complete with the black stone that represented her, served by eunuch priests, was summoned to Rome at the end of the third century bce. That official openness created an atmosphere in which most of the major deities of the empire found a home, sometimes a very public one, at Rome. Most visible were the Egyptian cults. They had arrived during the Republic and, after some resistance, became well established at Rome. They had a large compound in the Campus Martius, mainly associated with Isis (Figure 9.3). It appears prominently on fragments of the Marble Plan, and the site has yielded a range of neo-Egyptian artifacts. Beneath the official level, the presence of cults becomes overwhelming. They reflect both ethnic identity and pan-Mediterranean religious development. Many are only documented in inscriptions, both mortuary and dedicatory, or by cult images torn from context. Some, however, can be identified with specific sites. The best known of those are the shrines of Mithras with their distinctive cult rooms and images of Mithras slaying the sacred bull. Other cult places of nontraditional deities have been found scattered throughout the city.

Walls and Limits Imperial Rome was surrounded by a human-made defense wall that had lost almost all military meaning by the time Augustus had come to power, and by a religious boundary that still retained great significance. The wall built in response to the attacks of the Gauls in 390 bce continued to serve the city down to the 270s ce, though repairs had been made at the time of the Social Wars of the first century bce. It retained some defensive significance in the early first century bce, but by the Augustan era, many sections were in ruin, with buildings abutting both inside and outside. The frontiers of empire were hundreds of miles away, however,



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and Italy itself was generally at peace. When rival armies marched on Rome in 68/69 ce, they did not face the problem of attacking a fortified city. The religious boundary of the city, the pomerium, was something else. It was retained, or as in the case under Emperor Claudius, extended, with pomp and ceremony. The gates were especially important both for their ritual and for their roles as formal entrances to the city. Augustus made a point of renewing the major gates leading into the city, while apparently doing little to improve its defenses.

Roads and Cemeteries It is not the purpose of this chapter to consider the suburbium of Rome. It was linked to the city, but it had its own dynamic. Nonetheless, the tombs and cemeteries that lined the major trunk roads leading out of Rome were very much part of the city’s “self-presentation” and provide much important information on life within the walls. They were seen by the many travelers going in and out of Rome, and also received regular family visitation at those festivals that celebrated and placated the dead. By the middle years of the Republic, the great trunk roads leading out of the city were flanked by a variety of tombs, including those of the elite. Today that phenomenon is best represented by the Appian Way, the oldest of the consular roads and the one best preserved and protected. Since burials were protected by sacred laws, the emperors were required to leave those memorials of the free Republic intact. A traveler in the age of Augustus or of Hadrian could visit the tomb of the Scipios. Of greater interest to the social historian are the tombs of the ordinary citizens of Rome. Romans feared the anonymous fate of being thrown into one of the open pits found at the edge of the city. They wanted a proper cremation, an urn for the ashes, an epitaph with at least a name recorded, and a secure place of burial. The epitaphs of the Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum show how many succeeded in that goal. Of the many lessons to be gained from the study of these inscriptions, one of the most striking is the importance of the collective. Rome, like so many mega-cities, was filled with the uprooted. There were slaves without family and freedmen and -women with recently formed nuclear families. There were free immigrants, who often came alone to make their way in the city. There was a need for a collectivity of the dead. This collectivity was provided at its most basic by the columbaria, buildings with row after row of niches to provide space for the urn and for a short inscription. The great households, like that of the Livii, created their own columbaria, where their slaves and freedmen could find burial places. The emperors provided for their own slaves and freedmen. There were also burial associations, which combined sociability with a secure and protected burial place. Professions and craft groups formed their own associations, which included burial privileges. The study of those mortuary populations provides a sense of the complexity of urban society at Rome and the degree to which many ordinary Romans found community and society. The shift from cremation to inhumation, mainly over the course of the second century ce, meant that catacombs replaced columbaria as the preferred places of burial. The space requirements were greater, so that miles of burial corridors were dug into the tufa bedrock around the city. The Christian catacombs have received the most attention, but there were also catacombs for other populations: Rome’s ancient and extensive Jewish population is known mainly through evidence from their catacombs.

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The Third and Fourth Centuries Rome came through the crisis of the third century ce largely intact. While the emperors spent less and less time there, they still looked on it as a symbolic focal point in their often-ephemeral reigns. Public buildings were maintained, if not improved. The major addition to the city came in the early 270s with the construction of a new circuit wall by Emperor Aurelian. It was Rome’s first fortification since the early fourth century bce. With its turrets and complicated gates, it reflected the latest in military technology. Its relatively rapid construction shows that the building trades were still intact. A decade after Aurelian’s death, Diocletian consolidated power in the Roman Empire. He spent only limited time at Rome, but he made his symbolic contribution in the form of another great set of mega-baths to serve another part of the city. Their opulence and technical sophistication again show that craft traditions were intact and that Rome still remained the symbolic center of the now much divided empire. Diocletian hoped to create an orderly succession, but his efforts failed. The struggle for succession produced the last pagan builder emperor in Rome. That was Maxentius, the son of Diocletian’s co-ruler, Maximian. He made Rome both his symbolic and real capital, and launched the last pagan imperial building program at Rome. Most important symbolically was his rebuilding of Hadrian’s temple devoted to Venus and Roma. Next to it, he started a new basilica, this time with vaulted spaces, architecturally better associated with the megabaths than the more traditional basilicae in the old Roman Forum. Maxentius, however, was defeated and killed at the Battle of the Milvian Bridge. The victor Constantine had already begun the process of embracing Christianity. He (or the Senate) built an elegant arch, replete with spolia taken from older monuments. Some have seen this as a desperate action that reflected the decline in local craftsmanship. Others see it as an act of identification with great emperors such as Trajan, Hadrian, and Marcus Aurelius, whose sculptures were reworked for the monument. Constantine mainly proclaimed his identification with a new order. He started the construction of St. Peter’s Basilica at the burial place of the martyr, in the Vatican fields. He then moved the capital officially to Constantinople, creating a new city that would replace Rome. Rome itself entered into a long post-imperial twilight, which is another archaeological and historical story.

Brief biographical note Stephen Dyson is Park Professor of Classics and SUNY Distinguished Professor at the University at Buffalo. He did advanced studies in classical archaeology and ancient history at Brown, Oxford, and Yale. His research centers on Roman history, archaeology, and the history of classical archaeology. He is past president of the Archaeological Institute of America. Among his books are Community and Society in Roman Italy (1992), The Roman Countryside (2003), and Rome: A Living Portrait of an Ancient City (2010).

BIBLIOGRAPHY/SUGGESTED READING Aicher, Peter. 1995. Guide to the Aqueducts of Ancient Rome. Wauconda, IL: BolchazyCarducci Publishers. Aldrete, Gregory. 2007. Floods of the Tiber in Ancient Rome. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. Carandini, Andrea, and Paolo Carafa, eds. 2017. The Atlas of Ancient Rome: Biography and Portrait of the City. Translated by Andrew Campbell Halavais. Princeton: Princeton University Press.



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Claridge, Amanda. 1998. Rome, An Oxford Archaeological Guide. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Coarelli, Filippo. 2014. Rome and Environs: An Archaeological Guide. Translated by James J. Clauss and Daniel P. Harmon. Berkeley: University of California Press. Edwards, Catherine, and Greg Wolff. 2003. Rome the Cosmopolis. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Favro, Diane. 1996. The Urban Image of Augustan Rome. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Frier, Bruce W. 1980. Landlords and Tenants in Imperial Rome. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Joshel, Sandra. 1992. Work, Identity, and Legal Status at Rome. Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press. Krautheimer, Richard. 2000. Rome, Profile of a City, 312–1308. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Mignone, Lisa Marie. 2016. The Republican Aventine and Rome’s Social Order. Ann Arbor: University at Michigan Press. Morley, Neville. 1996. Metropolis and Hinterland: The City of Rome and the Italian Economy, 200 BC– AD 200. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Richardson, Lawrence. 1992. A New Topographical Dictionary of Ancient Rome. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. Robinson, Olivia F. 1992. Ancient Rome: City Planning and Administration. London: Routledge. Walsh, Joseph. 2019. The Great Fire of Rome. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. Zanker, Paul. 1990. The Power of Images in the Age of Augustus. Translated by Alan Shapiro. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Ziolkowski, Adam. 1992. The Temples of Mid-Republican Rome and Their Historical and Topographical Context. Rome: L’Erma di Bretschneider.

CHAPTER 10

Italy Annalisa Marzano

Introduction Pliny the Elder started his famous description of Italy by giving the length of the peninsula as 1020 miles, measured from Augusta Pretoria (Aosta) at the foot of the Alps to Regium (Reggio Calabria) in the south (Natural History 3.43; Figure 10.1). His description, by including the area that used to be the province of Gallia Cisalpina, reflects the administrative reforms ­introduced by Octavian/Augustus in the late first century bce: the provincial statute of Cisalpina was abolished (in 42/41 bce according to Appian, Civil Wars 3.30; 5.3.22) and later eleven administrative regions were created. The Alpine range became the new northern boundary of Italy, once marked by the Rubicon River. Italy presents contrasting landscapes: the rolling hills of Etruria, the Apennine uplands, the alluvial plain of the Po, the arid flatland of Apulia; these very different geographical and climatic features have also affected architecture, settlement types and patterns, and cultural features to a degree. Before the Roman conquest, the Italian peninsula was inhabited by many different ethnic groups, who spoke different languages and had distinct sociopolitical structures (e.g., Latins, Oscans, Ligurians, Umbrians, Samnites, Paeligni, Messapians, Daunians). Although by the time of the Social War (90–88 bce) the former Italic allies were openly fighting for enfranchisement and proper incorporation into the Roman state, the distinct cultural features and local traditions did not suddenly disappear in the imperial period. The development Italy presents in the imperial period, both in terms of rural and urban settlements, is thus not homogenous; while several common traits can be recognized, allowing us to talk of “Roman Italy,” there were also regional differences. The degree of these differences and how the contrasting “identities” in the peninsula were nonetheless pulled together under Rome are probably the most interesting aspects in the history of Roman Italy.

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 1, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



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Figure 10.1  Map of Roman Italy showing cities and major towns. By John Wallrodt.

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Urban Landscapes As remarked by Patterson (2006, 116), knowledge about Italian urban centers in the Roman imperial period and their individual buildings varies greatly from one to the other. The long occupation history of sites and the different ways in which they have been investigated archaeologically contribute to this uneven picture. As modern towns and cities often occupy the same locations as their ancient antecedents, urban archaeology offers a patchy picture that varies from town to town. The best opportunity to add substantial new knowledge about the topography and history of occupation of the ancient settlement comes when extensive modern public works take place, and archaeological investigations are included in the planning. Examples of important recent archaeological discoveries from urban contexts in connection with public works (e.g., new lines of underground transport) come from Rome and Naples. Recent research trends in the archaeology of ancient towns include application of a range of geophysical survey techniques and computer-based means of data visualization to the study of towns (Vermeulen et al. 2012). Particularly in the case of towns abandoned in antiquity and thus not obliterated by later buildings, the combination of geophysical survey with targeted excavations is considerably advancing our knowledge of Roman urban history. Some examples are the surveys of Capena, Amiternum, Ocriculum, and Interamna Lirenas (Vermeulen et al. 2012; Bellini, Launaro, and Millett 2014; Hay, Keay, and Millett 2013). Urban developments in the peninsula also varied because of the different settlement histories of the various regions. Etruria, Latium, and Magna Graecia had a long history of urban settlements; other regions, such as the Apennine area, had a tradition of dispersed rural settlements and saw the establishment of proper towns only in the aftermath of the Social War. The first century ce, in particular the Julio-Claudian period, witnessed considerable building activity that changed the monumental appearance of the towns of Italy across the peninsula. Octavian/Augustus had directed his generosity toward communities previously loyal to Antony in order to reinforce support for his rule, starting a tradition of imperial benefactions to individual towns, which continued with subsequent emperors. In addition to imperial benefactions, local elites, as well as equestrian and senatorial aristocracies with links to specific communities, provided towns with fine urban facilities and amenities in an attempt to outdo the achievements of the neighboring communities or of other benefactors. With the establishment of the imperial government, benefactions directed at public buildings in Rome, which in the Republic had always had a political dimension, became a monopoly of the emperor and the imperial household. Therefore, members of the senatorial elite moved their attention to other urban centers, often in areas where they owned villa estates. The election of distinguished proprietors to the patronage of individual towns is a phenomenon typical of the imperial period and of the whole peninsula, but very evident in central Italy because of the number of urban centers. In addition, to quote Patterson (2006, 127): public building did allow the local elites to demonstrate the high-profile loyalty to the emperor which might help gain them imperial patronage and contribute to their eventual advancement into the ranks of the equestrian service or even the Senate itself.

During the first century ce, expenditure for public buildings in towns was mostly directed toward temples and entertainment structures. Major infrastructure projects, such as aqueducts, were predominantly funded by the emperor or very wealthy senators, because of their cost (e.g., the Serino aqueduct in Campania built by Augustus). In the second century, euergetism was largely directed at baths, basilicas, market buildings (macella), and council buildings (curiae). Fewer new buildings were erected in the third and early fourth centuries, leaving the first century as the period with the most intense urban-building activity. In general, as one can observe from the epigraphic record pertaining to construction or restoration



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of public buildings and spaces, from the mid-third century ce both the amount and quality of building activity aimed at the maintenance of the urban monumental fabric diminished, due to a combination of socio-political factors. We lack excavation data about the diachronic development for several towns regarding their public buildings and monumental centers, but commemorative and honorific inscriptions offer an indication of building activity and attention paid to restorations. Recent research has investigated the degree to which a change in epigraphic and honorific statuary habits started in the third century (Machado 2010). A preliminary survey carried out by Camodeca (2010) for third- and fourth-century public inscriptions from Campania does not seem to indicate changes in the epigraphic habit per se, but rather in the capital and energy spent to maintain public buildings. One of the issues that certainly affected maintenance of the monumental apparatus of Italian towns in this later imperial period is the fact that municipal finances were placed under the direct control of the imperial administration from the third century ce on. The trends and developments in the appearance of Italian towns, particularly colonial foundations, in the first two centuries of the empire cannot be fully understood without considering developments in Rome. The close interaction between the towns and Rome is exemplified by the case of amphitheaters. While several Italian towns (e.g., Pompeii) had received permanent amphitheaters before Statilius Taurus built the first permanent amphitheater in Rome in 29 bce, even in the imperial period connections are apparent among the establishment of Roman veteran colonies, the construction of amphitheaters, and what was happening in Rome. Amphitheaters seem to have been a “must have” in Roman colonies, and came to be considered one of the key features of Roman urban environments. When the Flavians built the Colosseum in Rome, restorations or erections of new amphitheaters followed in many towns of Italy, particularly in the case of newly reestablished colonies. For example, Paestum, reestablished as a colony by Vespasian in 71 ce, had its amphitheater restored sometime in the late first or early second century; Puteoli, which had been given the title of colonia by both Nero and Vespasian, acquired a new amphitheater in this period; Capua, which had received the title of colonia Flavia, shortly after acquired a new amphitheater that architecturally resembled the Colosseum (Patterson 2006, 132); Urbis Salvia was equipped with an amphitheater in 81 ce by its most prominent citizen, L. Flavius Silva Nonius Bassus, the governor of Judaea and general who led the siege of Masada (AE 1995.434). Sometimes, specific ad hoc building solutions made the most of the local geomorphology: for example, the amphitheater at Sutrium, ca. 50 km north of Rome, was completely excavated out of a tufa outcrop. It has also been suggested that the diffusion of market buildings in towns of Italy looked to developments in Rome, with, for instance, the macella identified at Puteoli and Neapolis (under the church of S. Lorenzo Maggiore) seen as following the design of the Macellum Magnum built in Rome by Nero (Patterson 2006, 162–169).

The Forum The very heart of Italian towns – the forum – in part changed its appearance and function during the early first century ce and came to share a common architectural vocabulary. The forum was an open-air rectangular space, often featuring porticoes and shops and, along its sides, the main political and religious buildings of a town. It often was the town’s physical center too, being located at the intersection of the two major streets, the cardo and decumanus maximus; travelers coming into town or simply passing through were thus channeled into the forum. In the Republican era, fora were typical of Rome’s colonies. They featured meeting places for civic debate, such as the curia and comitium (open-air meeting space for assemblies), and a temple, either at the edge of the forum or on the arx, interpreted as a temple to the Capitoline triad (Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva), the most important state cult in Rome. The archetype of these Republican fora has been seen in Rome’s Forum, in what would have been

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an intentional attempt to recreate a “smaller Rome” in each colony (cf. Aulus Gellius’ famous description of colonies as “like small portraits and images” (quasi effigies parvae et simulacra) of Rome: Attic Nights 16.13.9) by deploying a common architectural and religious “kit” that expressed colonial identity. However, the validity of this reconstruction for the mid-Republican period has been questioned; Bispham (2006; see also Sewell 2014) has stressed that many interpretations of temples as Capitolia in the early phases of a colony rest on extremely tenuous grounds and on a set of preconceived ideas that project back in time a situation valid for the Augustan age, when Roman colonies looked like each other (but also differed from each other in various ways). So what are the features of Italian fora of the imperial age? Vitruvius opens book 5 of On Architecture, in which he addresses public buildings, with a discussion of the forum, making several recommendations (On Architecture 5.1–5.2). He advises on a width-to-length ratio of 2:3 and writes that the overall size of the forum should be proportionate to the town’s population size. Vitruvius clearly reflects the “idea” of the forum current in the Augustan era when he was writing; indeed he also gives a concrete example of a forum he had designed at Fanum Fortunae (Fano). Archeologically, we see that by the early first century ce fora had a canonical formula that encompassed regularly orientated buildings, temple(s) in dominant position centrally situated along one side of the plaza, and a basilica, where business and legal matters were transacted. Whereas Republican urban grids had channeled traffic through the forum, in the empire the forum increasingly became a place with restricted access. Shops also tended to be relocated elsewhere and markets moved to dedicated spaces. In Pompeii, stone barriers stopped wheeled traffic from entering the forum and the market was moved to the large macellum next to the Capitolium. At Veleia, the forum was enclosed by buildings on all sides; the restricted access was often emphasized by monumental, stepped entrances that led into the forum (Goodman 2012). The forum became more formal and the place for civic display. As in Pompeii, honorific statues, including statues of members of the imperial family, crowded fora, and often triumphal arches honoring the emperor were erected (Patterson 2006, 177; Zanker 2012, 32). Architecturally, symmetry and axiality and the use of the Corinthian order, so common in first-century architecture, all became hallmarks of fora of the imperial period. A good example of the attempt to correct an irregular shape of an existing forum and give it a more symmetric appearance comes from Pompeii: in the 80s bce a basilica and a portico were built in the southwest corner, while on the north side a dominating temple was either remodeled or built ex novo (Dobbins 2007). For all the attention given to Vitruvius’ text in past scholarship when examining actual Roman fora, the urban realities of Roman Italy offer many exceptions to the forum described in Vitruvius (Frakes 2014, 250). Several towns, both in Italy (e.g., Praeneste, Tarracina) and in the provinces, had more than one forum. Then the position of key buildings could vary. Take the case of the basilica: in terms of architectural “effect,” the best position was along one of the short sides, facing the Capitolium, as in Brixia (Brescia), Aquileia, and Julia Augusta Bagiennorum (Bene Vagienna, Cuneo), but other solutions feature the basilica along one of the forum’s long sides (Verona, Minturnae, Ostia; Figure 10.2) or next to the Capitolium itself (Luna) (Zanker 2012, 32). At Ariminum (Rimini), we even find the theater placed on the north (short) side of the forum. It is in this new, formalized setting, in which celebrations of local elites, benefactors, and imperial authority found their visual display, that the cult of the emperor is inserted into the urban fabric. Temples to deified emperors started to appear in fora from the very incipit of the imperial cult, even in very small urban centers, and often served to reinforce the connections between towns and the benefactors who paid for these buildings, and between the benefactor and the imperial house itself. For instance, at Lucus Feroniae (near Fiano Romano), a very small town, a temple to deified Augustus was built in the forum between 14 and 20 ce, paid for by a member of the senatorial Volusi Saturninii family, who owned a villa just outside the town. With the succession of emperors, buildings for the imperial cult catered to the cult of various deified emperors (e.g., at Misenum the building of the imperial cult, originally



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Figure 10.2  Minturnae (modern Minturno): plan. By John Wallrodt.

erected in the forum area in the Augustan period, certainly had also acquired statues of the three Flavian emperors and of Trajan, either inside or outside the building) and had to devise architectural solutions that allowed optimal display of the additional statuary. Pompeii is again a good example: the rectangular building devoted to the cult of Augustus on the east side of the forum was later flanked by a new building for the imperial cult, whose main architectural features were the wide entrance with eight columns and the large exedra in the back, with its ledge on which to display the statues; such an arrangement focused the viewer’s attention on the statuary.

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Central Italy (Umbria, Toscana, Lazio, Marche, Abruzzo) The area corresponding to the modern regions of Lazio, Marche, southern and central Tuscany, and parts of Umbria had a considerable level of urbanization in the Roman period (Figure 10.1); in many cases Roman towns were simply the continuation of earlier settlements, even if these were not always urban in nature (i.e., villages or important religious centers). In few cases of towns established during Rome’s expansion in the Republican period, a break in the occupation of pre-Roman urban centers occurred due to military and political considerations; new towns were founded in less defensible positions to replace these. One example is Falerii Veteres, whose inhabitants were forcibly relocated in the mid-third century bce to a new established town in the plain, Falerii Novi. By the end of the Republic and the early imperial periods, central Italy, together with Campania in the south, had the highest concentration of urban centers of the peninsula, with average inter-city distance of ca.11/12 km (Bekker-Nielsen 1989). Many of these were small towns, covering 20 ha or less (De Ligt 2012); some were towns with a long pre-Roman history, but had acquired a more marked Roman identity with their re-foundation as Roman colonies and the settlement of military veterans in the late Republican period and/or Augustan period. The level of urbanization found in these regions goes hand in hand with the frequency of rural settlements, in particular with the presence and continued existence of villas and farms. A symbiotic relationship existed between towns and villas, in terms of production (e.g., supplying urban markets with fresh products such as vegetables and fruit), but also in terms of social interactions, which in turn affected the degree of sophistication of the architecture and décor of the residential parts of villas (Morley 1996; Marzano 2007, 176–198). The population and physical growth of the capital Rome, which in the first century ce had an estimated one million inhabitants, affected not only the development and use of the territory around the capital, but also the towns of central Italy (see Dyson, “City of Rome,” Chapter 9 of this volume). Not only did Rome set trends as far as public and private architecture were concerned, but since the capital attracted a considerable volume of trade from around the empire, the towns of central western Italy with good transport connections with Rome had easier access than other towns to a range of imported goods. The communities located along the “Tiber corridor” form a case in point. The river, as indicated by the several fluvial ports of Roman date identified along its course, was important for the transport of agricultural produce downriver to Rome (see Pliny, Letters 5.6.12) and imported products upriver, as archaeologically attested by durable amphorae that transported foodstuffs. The study of pottery assemblages as indicators of the degree of openness to trade has indeed shown that imported amphorae decrease progressively as one proceeds away from the center of trade and major communication routes (Martin 2005; see Hitchner, “Roads and Rivers,” Chapter 3 of this volume). Towns along the navigable stretch of the Tiber also had access to other products that accompanied the amphorae, such as table and cooking ware produced overseas, a scenario not reflected in assemblages found at more remote centers (Martin 2005, 72–73). A comprehensive study of urbanism in imperial towns of central Italy is lacking. This is for a variety of reasons, largely the predominance of Pompeii and Ostia, which have monopolized scholarly attention, and the fragmentary data, as most Roman towns have been continuously occupied from antiquity to contemporary times. When one has data on urban buildings and their changes over time, they largely pertain to public buildings and the monumental town center rather than houses. It is beyond the scope of this chapter to try to fill this void; rather, I note that a recurrent theme in discussing urbanism in the Italian peninsula has been the extent to which a set of norms (e.g., the urban grid as a regular pattern reminiscent of military camps for colonial foundations, or a certain architectural language) was typically Roman and “exported” from the center. For the region around Rome, much archaeological investigation on towns of ancient Latium (e.g., the Pontine Region Project, University of Groningen 2019) has focused on Republican sites and phases on the one hand, with research questions on Rome’s military expansion,



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establishment of colonial foundations, and the incorporation of the Latin communities into the Roman state, and on the other hand, on the early Julio-Claudian period, examining the flourishing of building activity in public spaces, as mentioned above. Consequently, less is known about specific changes and development in towns in the later imperial phases. Even when there is archaeological evidence for later phases, the overall understanding of the urban development and changes over time remain patchy because of the limited extent of excavations. A good example is Minturnae, an important urban center at the border between Latium and Campania, located at the mouth of the river Liris (modern Garigliano, navigable in antiquity). Minturnae was founded as a colony in 296 bce and had a fluvial port, with shipbuilding attested by inscriptions. Thus, the town became a commercial hub, not only acting as an outlet for the agricultural produce of her fertile hinterland but also playing a role in transmarine trade and in the trade networks of Latium and Campania. Two major urban phases have been identified at Minturnae. In the Augustan period, a new colony was established and Minturnae underwent a complete urban renewal: the portion of the Via Appia that passed through the town was monumentalized with porticoes, a temple to Augustus was erected on a double podium in the Republican forum, a temple to the deified Caesar was built in the earlier castrum (the center of the Republican colonial foundation), and the late Republican theater was restored (Figure 10.2; AE 1989.150; Bellini 2007, 10). To a second-century phase, under Hadrian/Antoninus Pius, belong the enlargement and remodeling of the theater (with new sculptural decoration, apparently given by Matidia Minor, to whom the inhabitants erected a dedication, CIL 10.4744), a new market, and an aqueduct, which allowed further urban amenities such as a bath complex, fountains at crossroads, and nymphea. In addition, several domus were built in the northwest part of town, which in this period became predominantly residential. These houses had central atria peristyles with stuccoed brick columns, mosaic and opus sectile floors, and frontages including shops (tabernae) facing the portico leading to the market, mixing residential and commercial architecture according to arrangements well attested in other Roman towns, such as Pompeii. Although the town continued to be an important commercial port, and restorations and changes in the earlier public buildings and houses are attested down to the sixth century ce, we do not currently have evidence of buildings erected ex novo in this later period. For instance, although we know that Minturnae was an episcopal seat whose last known bishop, Rusticus Episcopus, took part in the synod held in Rome in 499 ce, the seat of the bishop has not yet been identified archeologically. There is epigraphic evidence dating to the early fifth century ce for restorations of transport infrastructure by the imperial authority (the bridge on the Liris: AE 1982.154) and for a patron of the town (AE 1954.27=AE 1989.137). The only evidence for substantial building activity after the Hadrianic/Antonine phase, however, comes from outside the town center. Archaeological excavations along the east side of the castrum fortifications have revealed a large building with pillars, probably a warehouse connected to the fluvial harbor, built in the imperial period and kept in use at least until the fourth and fifth centuries ce (Bellini 2007). Minturnae’s urban development, with different types of public building schemes between the first and second century ce, fits with trends observed elsewhere in Italy, as described in the introductory part of this section on the urban environment. However, the most recent archaeological evidence is revealing how the town remained an important hub for trade even in late antiquity, a period when transmarine and inter-regional trade flows were thought to have been seriously disrupted because of the unstable political situation. Recent research on Roman towns is highlighting the degree of variation present when topography did not allow for perfectly regular urban grids, considered the norm in colonial foundations. Take the case of Ocriculum (modern Otricoli) in Umbria, a Roman colony that, because of the constraints posed by the terrain, had an irregular elongated shape. Recent research has revealed that, contrary to the assumption that the Roman town and river port were built in the first century ce, the town was actually established in the late third century bce and became a thriving municipality by the first century bce; its history is closely related

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to the history of the Via Flaminia, built in 220 bce (Hay, Keay, and Millett 2013, 136–137). In the early first century ce (possibly in connection with Augustus’ restoration of the Flaminia; Res Gestae divi Augusti 20.5), the town acquired an impressive monumental landscape visible in particular to those who would have been approaching from the Flaminia. If Ocriculum was unusual in its lack of regular urban grid, its later fate and urban appearance were determined by its relationship with major transport routes. This is a recurrent feature influencing the monumentalization of Roman urban centers, which cuts across centuries and geographic areas, as can be seen with second-century Herdoniae, discussed later in this chapter.

Northern Italy (Val D’Aosta, Piemonte, Lombardia, Liguria, Trentino Alto Adige, Veneto, Friuli Venezia Giulia) Since the north of the peninsula provides some of the best examples of Roman colonial urbanism, archaeological research in northern Italy has in the past focused largely on “Romanization” on the one hand, or on indigenous cultures and their “resistance” to Romanization on the other. Modern studies of Roman northern Italy have been largely dominated by Italian scholars, partially due to the fact that the foreign archaeological schools that support their country’s research projects are located in Rome, but also to the strong tradition of studies on central western and southern Italy, ultimately going back to the age of the Grand Tour. Thus, with few exceptions, many interesting sites in northern Italy are not well known, as studies largely carried out by officials of local Offices of Antiquity and by amateur archaeologists have had limited dissemination even to the rest of Italy, much less outside its borders. Distinct cultural groups occupied northern Italy in pre-Roman times: the Veneti in the northeast, the Ligurians (a label under which the Romans grouped different tribes; see Pliny, Natural History 3.5.47) in the west, the Lepontii in the central Alps, the Celts in the Padan Plain, and Etruscans at port towns such as Spina and Adria on the Adriatic. Rome’s military expansion toward the north of the peninsula started in the early Republic; by the third century bce various colonies (e.g., Sena Gallica, 283 bce; Ariminum, 263 bce; Placentia and Cremona, 218 bce) had already been founded and major roads built, such as the Via Flaminia from Rome to Ariminum. In the very northeast of Italy, however, Rome’s presence was limited up to the Social War, with only the colony of Aquileia (181 bce) established in the territory of the Veneti. Major changes in northern Italy occurred in the first century bce, when first Caesar, and later the triumvirs and Augustus, established several new colonies, including Novum Comum, Iulia Dertona, Augusta Taurinorum, Augusta Praetoria, and Ateste (Figure 10.1). The effect of colonization and the associated division of land among colonists (centuriation) has left clear traces in the modern landscape, and the centuriated systems of northern Italy have been well studied thanks to aerial photography. The Veneto, Transpadana, and Liguria followed different trajectories after the Roman conquest, in terms of the interaction between Roman and indigenous Italic cultures. Adoption of Roman practices or status symbols varied, and Roman identity and integration only became an issue after the enfranchisement of the region in 49 bce, a period when Cisalpine Gauls began to increase their participation in Roman matters. It is worth remembering that the famous Augustan intellectuals Vergil and Livy came from Cisalpine Gaul. Several of the towns of Cisalpine Gaul were established ex novo according to regular urban plans that replicated the layout of military camps on a larger scale. Iulia Augusta Taurinorum (Turin; founded by Caesar but completed by Augustus) had one of the most regular urban plans, almost square (760 × 660 m), featuring massive city walls with towers and a rectangular forum with temple in the center of the urban grid. The best preserved portion of the city walls is the Porta Palatina, the city gate for those approaching from the Po Valley; the gate has much in common with the Porta Praetoria preserved at Augusta Praetoria (Aosta) (cf. Figure 10.3). The theater and the amphitheater were also built relatively early on (Brecciaroli Taborelli and Gabucci 2007).

Figure 10.3  Augusta Praetoria Salassorum (modern Aosta): axonometric reconstruction of the “Porta Praetoria” city gate. By John Wallrodt.

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Deviation from the regularity of the urban grid only occurred in these towns when specific practical and defensive reasons required it, as in Ocriculum, mentioned above. For instance, Verona had to adopt an elongated plan following the shape of the river Adige; while the street grid was regular, the settlement as a whole did not have a rectangular plan, and there was access only from three sides, with the fourth protected by the river. Already important in preRoman times (Pliny, Natural History 3.130), the town was strategically and commercially significant for its position at the crossing point of roads coming from the Alps and going east of the Apennines and into Illyricum. Verona’s amphitheater, built outside the city walls in 30 ce, is one of the best preserved of its kind, and still in use today. Commercial (and strategic) location and association with navigable rivers affected the placement of several Roman foundations, and thus shaped the occupation history of the region in the late first century bce and early first century ce. In the northeast of the peninsula, Aquileia is another river port town, founded for military reasons, which quickly acquired considerable commercial importance. Its favorable position allowed it to become a major gateway for goods from the Po Valley exported to the eastern Mediterranean and vice versa. In the imperial period, Aquileia was part of a network of satellite urban centers (including Forum Iulii, Iulia Concordia, Iulia Parentium, and Picta Iulia) and its multicultural nature is attested by epigraphic and archaeological evidence. Its port structures, comprising a 300-m-long quay, ramps, and warehouses, were linked directly to the forum by several parallel roads; this and its several covered and open-air markets show how central trade was to this city. Not only did Aquileia have a theater and amphitheater, but also a circus for chariot races. The several well-appointed houses identified, though preserved only at floor level, show a feature that sets some of the houses in northern Italy and Umbria (e.g., villa at Deruta, Marzano 2007, 725) apart from those of the rest of the peninsula: the presence of heating, using the same hypocaust system attested in baths (Bonetto and Salvadori 2012 on Aquileia). Augusta Praetoria, founded under Augustus in the territory of the Salassi, is well known as a colonial foundation that made a strong symbolic statement in a newly conquered region by means of impressive city-walls and monumental gates, the Arch of Augustus, and other monuments (Figure 10.3). That this town was part of a complex mining landscape, with remarkable traces still visible today, is less widely known, not only because of the limited circulation of local studies referred to above, but also due to scholars’ concentration on monuments and emperors rather than trade and industry until relatively recently. The national park of Bessa, at the end of the Aosta Valley, presents a dramatic man-made geological landscape that was in all likelihood the Aurifondinae mining district mentioned in the sources (Strabo, Geography 4.6.7; Cassius Dio 22.74.1; Pliny, Natural History 33.78). The Bessa landscape is the result of ancient gold mining, employing a hydraulic technique discussed by Pliny (Natural History 33.74–76), which seems to have been perfected here before being applied to the larger Roman mines of northern Spain (e.g., Las Medulas). Families with wide commercial interests in mining and metal-working are well-attested in the area; at Augusta Praetoria, C. Avillius Caimus paid for the Roman bridge of Pondel near Aosta in 3 bce (CIL 5.6899), and Avillii are also known at Industria near Monteu da Po, a small town next to an important fluvial harbor that in the Augustan period received a regular urban grid and specialized in the manufacture of high-quality metal objects (Cresci Marrone 1993). This site was clearly an outlet for the distribution of metal mined in Val d’Aosta and also for goods coming from Aquileia and other Adriatic ports.

Southern Italy (Campania, Molise, Basilicata, Puglia, Calabria) Parts of southern Italy had a considerable degree of urbanization in the Roman period (Figure 10.1). Our knowledge of these urban settlements is, of course, dominated by the cities buried by Vesuvius, Pompeii and Herculaneum. Paestum, a third-century bce colony which was



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reestablished under Vespasian, is also well-known, and its urban fabric and general development are frequently discussed in this context. But common traits in urban development in the imperial period should not obscure specific differences, even in the case of territories with similar geography, such as Samnium and Lucania, both in considerable part mountainous. Samnium had a dense network of small towns and one major urban center, Beneventum, with average inter-town distance between 15.8 and 22.8 km, whereas Lucania and Bruttium, which formed the Augustan regio III, had towns more sparsely spread out: the average ­distance here was 35 km (Bekker-Nielsen 1989, 22–25). As examples of different Roman towns in the south, I will discuss Suessa Aurunca in northern Campania and Herdoniae in Apulia. The former, though only the monumental center is known in detail, illustrates the effect of an important agricultural landscape and of patronage from the very top of society (the imperial family) on the urban fabric; the latter, how the role of a previously peripheral town could change almost overnight with the construction of a new major road. Suessa Aurunca (Sessa) was located near the Liris/Garigliano river, in a region celebrated for the production of Falernum wine and quality olive oil. Founded as a Latin colony in 313 bce, it probably was re-founded in the triumviral period, as the name Colonia Julia Felix Classica Suessa suggests. The Republican city center presents a feature that can be seen in several towns of Latium and northern Campania: a substantial U-shaped cryptoporticus in a dominating position. Though probably connected to a temple, in the imperial period it may have housed a school, since exercises in Latin and Greek were written on its walls (Cascella 2013). The importance of the town and the presence of distinguished senatorial families as landlords left a monumental mark on Suessa Aurunca. In the Augustan period, a theater with portico behind the stage building was built just in front of the Republican cryptoporticus. This theater became one of the most impressive public buildings of ancient Campania, especially after an extensive redecoration funded by Matidia Minor, sister of Sabina, wife of emperor Hadrian (Arthur 1991, 55–56; Cascella 2006; CIL 10.4744-7). Matidia seems to have owned property in the area, and her patronage of the community is in line with what wealthy landlords usually did in the second century ce. However, the scale of the redecoration and the employment of many different types of colored marble shows not just the financial resources of the imperial family, but also access to products from quarries normally reserved for imperial building projects in Rome. The theater, excavated between 1999 and 2005, had a cavea ca. 90 m in diameter and a scaenae frons 40 m long. This stage building, which was at least 25 m high, had three orders of eighty-four columns in different types of colored marble (giallo antico, fior di pesco, pavonazzetto, portasanta, breccia di Settebassi, etc.), while the column bases, capitals, and entablatures were in white Luna marble. The decoration was completed by statues of the imperial family, of which three complete statues and two portrait heads have been recovered; in the middle was a bicolor statue of Matidia Minor herself, the benefactress behind this opulence. Herdoniae (modern Ordona) had its origins in pre-Roman Italy. It was a Daunian settlement and had flourished greatly in the fourth and third centuries bce. Destroyed by Pyrrhus in 279 bce and then rebuilt, the Punic wars saw it conquered alternately by Carthaginians and Romans. It later became a Roman municipium but stayed a modest town until the second century, when it flourished again, receiving many new public buildings (Figure 10.4a). The reason for this revival was the construction of the Via Traiana under Trajan. Herdoniae’s location, at the intersection of the Traiana and the Via Aeclanense leading to Samnium, suddenly grew in importance. The Traiana ran straight through Herdoniae’s city center, and this prompted the reorganization of the entire forum square, which was built on a cryptoporticus and equipped with a portico, shops, administrative buildings, and storerooms. The town also acquired a round market building, two temples, and lavish public baths; the amphitheater was also redeveloped in this period (Figure 10.4b; Mertens 1995 207–210). Epigraphic evidence attests to the munificence of patrons and magistrates and to

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Figure 10.4a  Herdonia (modern Ordona): overall plan of the town showing the main public buildings, the circuit of the city walls and the gates. By John Wallrodt.

various professional associations (collegia) active in the town (Mertens 1995, 205–206,215– 216, 218–220, 222–224). The integration of Herdoniae in a good road network made the town a center for the storage and trade of goods coming from the broader region. Because of more advanced excavation methods and the involvement of the archaeological sciences in their study and interpretation, the most recent archaeological finds can address research questions beyond the occupational history and topography of cities, and have wider implications for our understanding of the palaeoenvironment and of intra- and inter-regional commercial networks. One example is the discovery of the ancient harbor of Neapolis, modern Naples, which retained many aspects of its original Greek identity into the imperial period. The



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Figure 10.4b  Herdonia (modern Ordona): plan of town center. By John Wallrodt. Buildings in light gray date to the Republic, those in black were built in the imperial period. Note the different building alignment between these two chronological phases.

harbor was identified and excavated in the context of major public works (Boetto, Carsana, and Giampaola 2009; Carsana et al. 2009). These discoveries shed light on the ancient coastline, on the life of the harbor (which remained fully operational until the third century ce), on the types of wood and building techniques used in the ships that were excavated (see Carlson, “The Sea,” Chapter 2 of this volume), and, thanks to pollen studies, added new knowledge to our understanding of palaeoclimate and ancient vegetation (Allevato et al. 2010). Recent years have indeed seen considerable advancements in the fields of geoarchaeological and palaeoenvironmental studies. In southern Italy, important geoarchaelogical surveys have been carried out not only in the Neapolis excavation, but also at Paestum and Velia, allowing definition of the landscape evolution of these rather different geographical areas (Amato et al. 2012). In all three cases, evidence for geomorphological changes (e.g., appearance of sand bars, formation of coastal lagoons, progressive silting of these, floods, and

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ground-level aggradation) were identified starting from the third to fourth centuries ce. These studies strongly suggested that the changes were not due to climatic deterioration, but rather to the socioeconomic decline that affected the Roman Empire during this period, with, inter alia, the breakdown of urban life and abandonment of towns, soil erosion due to reduced maintenance of farmland, and deforestation of slopes.

The Rural Landscape The most notable feature of the Roman countryside was the villa, a rural mansion comprising residential quarters displaying a certain level of décor, and service quarters forming a proper working farm, with facilities for the processing and storage of agricultural produce. The villa produced agricultural surplus for the commercial market, with the most notable cash crops in Italy being grapes, olives, and to some extent, wheat. The Roman villa, which is at the center of the treatises of the Latin agronomists Cato, Varro, and Columella, has been seen, particularly by Italian Marxist historiography (e.g., Giardina and Schiavone 1981), as a specific mode of exploitation of the land based on slave labor. This “villa system” would have been the product of Rome’s great territorial expansion in the Republican period, which brought booty in the form of wealth and slaves to Italy. The area where the villa system developed was central western Italy, from which the villa, with its specific architectural features, crops, and servile workforce, would have been “exported” to the provinces, most notably Gaul and the Iberian Peninsula. Therefore, outside of Italy, villas have often been discussed in the context of “Romanization,” and their appearance has been seen as marking a clear break with indigenous building traditions. In its area of origin, Latium, northern Campania, and south Etruria, the diffusion of villas based on slave labor has also been connected to two major phenomena that mark the turbulent political history of Rome in the second and first centuries bce: the displacement of the free peasantry and their emigration to Rome, swelling the ranks of the urban proletariat; and the difficulties in army recruitment because its basis (i.e., the free small landowners), having lost their land, no longer qualified for army service. The political program pursued by the Gracchi brothers, Gaius Marius’ army reforms, and the establishment of the grain dole in Rome are also initiatives that stem from this general situation. This is important in order to explain the historical background against which the archaeological evidence from the countryside of central western Italy, particularly the data provided by field survey and the interpretation of major villa sites, has been placed. This historical scenario presupposes that many small farms in the central Italian countryside in the earlier Republican period disappeared to give way to large, slave-staffed villas. Thus, by the end of the Republic, there would have been few farms, especially in areas with large villas. The two categories of rural settlement were not only seen as mutually exclusive but also as a sign of very different types of labor and management (slaves vs. free farmers). Recent research on the rural world of Roman Italy is focusing on investigating how and to what degree rural communities were integrated from an economic point of view with the rest of the Roman world. Ever-increasing archaeological data, coupled with geo-archaeological, ecological, geophysical, and palaeogeographical data, now offer the possibility of understanding rural sites, landscapes, and regions by going beyond the limited answers field surveys alone can give (for approaches and theoretical frameworks on how to systematically integrate these datasets, see de Haas and Tol 2017).

Villas in Central Italy The archaeological study of rural settlements in central Italy has developed along two interconnected lines: diachronic study of settlement hierarchy and trends via field survey on the one hand, and excavation of villa sites on the other. Since the 1970s and the excavation



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of the famous villa of Settefinestre, archeological research into rural settlements has been preoccupied with the issue of the slave-staffed villa, its diffusion, its architectural features, its chronology, and its relationship with small farms. The bibliography is vast, and the debate has involved archaeologists and ancient historians alike, because of the implications for the sociopolitical and demographic history of Rome (Becker 2013 for an overview). Central western Italy was a landscape of intense rural occupation by farms and villas, as shown by field surveys such as the famous South Etruria survey (results partially synthesized in Potter 1979). As far as the immediate region around Rome and the Tiber valley are concerned, their development was affected by the growth of Rome’s population and the demands this metropolis made for supplies (Morley 1996). In the territory of the Latin colony of Cosa, the excavation of the late Republican villa of Settefinestre, possibly owned by the senatorial family of the Sestii, remains a landmark (Carandini 1985; Figure 10.5). This project represented the introduction into Italian archeology of the precise stratigraphic methods of excavation developed in Britain, and was, and probably still is to date, the only project to excavate an elite villa in its entirety. The villa with its large courtyard surrounded by modular rooms, interpreted as housing for the slaves used

Figure 10.5  The Settefinestre villa (Orbetello): plan. By John Wallrodt.

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as agricultural manpower on the estate, established an architectural model for slave quarters, used, sometimes uncritically, at other villa sites of central Italy, such as the villa of the Volusii at Lucus Feroniae (Marzano 2007, 125–148). The Settefinestre project, coupled with field survey of the surrounding territory, revealed a coastal territory dominated by several large villas that produced wine for the overseas trade; in the second century ce they appear to already have been in decline, if not abandoned altogether. This scenario introduces another key issue that has occupied much of the discussion on villas in Italy: the “crisis” of the previously flourishing wine-exporting villa estates in the imperial period, due to serious commercial competition by provinces such as Gallia and Tarraconensis, which started to produce and export wine after their programs of Caesarean and Augustan colonization. Statements such as Pliny’s (Natural History 18.35) that “large estates had ruined Italy” and archaeological evidence from many villa sites, particularly in central Italy, that the residential part was no longer kept up to elite standards (poor quality repairs; subdivided rooms; baths falling into disuse; presence of burials in some parts of the villa) have been seen as an indication of this agricultural crisis. Mainstream interpretations have been that villa estates in central Italy, which had boomed in the Republic, declined in the first and second century ce, with some sites abandoned to squatters, and others agglomerated into very large estates in the hands of few landowners. As well as in archaeological evidence, this possible crisis of Italian agriculture found corroboration in literary and documentary sources, such as Domitian’s edict to limit cultivation of vines in the provinces (Suetonius, Domitian 7), seen as a protectionist measure to help Italian wine producers. Also, Trajan’s alimentary program, ostensibly a charitable scheme in support of boys and girls in Italian towns, financed by the interest local landlords paid on “forced” loans, has been interpreted by some as an initiative to encourage landowners to invest in improving agricultural productivity of their estates (Jongman 2002). While the concentration of land in the hands of fewer landlords (including the largest landowner of all, the emperor; Maiuro 2012) is in no doubt, it would be a mistake to think that the imperial period saw the formation of large, contiguous estates in equal measure all over the Italian peninsula. The map of elite landownership in Italy, particularly in Latium, Etruria, and Campania, shows scattered, noncontiguous estates. Epigraphic evidence, such as the Trajanic alimentary tables from Ligures, Baebiani, and Veleia listing the various properties involved in the scheme, illustrates this fragmentation of holdings very well, as does the archaeological evidence for agricultural processing of wine and oil in villas and large farms. Though a few villa estates in Istria and a handful of other sites had evidence for more than one press used for the processing of the same produce (e.g., Settefinestre had three wine presses and one oil press), large multipress facilities were not common on the Italian peninsula. Instead, villa sites in Campania, Latium, and Umbria regularly show the presence of one press for wine and one for oil. This indicates that the estate controlled by a specific villa was not so large as to require more than one (wine or oil) press to process its produce. What is more, adjoining estates owned by the same person were not the norm, with the possible exception of parts of Apulia (see Pliny the Younger, Letters 3.19, on buying an adjoining estate), making centralization of production to the extent seen in the large oil factories of North Africa not likely for central Italy.

Field Surveys A landmark in field survey studies in central Italy was the South Etruria Survey, conducted by the British School at Rome in the 1950s, when the Italian rural landscape was changing rapidly due to economic growth after World War II (Potter 1979). Many more field surveys have followed, providing a wealth of data, but also posing general methodological problems about comparability among surveys following different sampling strategies and methodologies. In terms of theory, Witcher (2006) has stressed the importance of moving field survey beyond



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its focus on occupational processes in order to make it a more powerful analytical tool for the study of a given territory by developing more sophisticated interpretative frameworks and theory. As has been seen, studies of rural settlements in central Italy have been particularly preoccupied with the Republican period and with research questions dealing with the disappearance (or not) of small farms, the growth of the villa system, and demography (Fracchia 2013 for an overview). Survey data have largely been used in the ongoing debate on ancient demography (e.g., De Ligt 2012), in trying to infer population size on the basis of the number and type of rural settlements, and on type of land tenure (farms owned by free peasantry vs. large estates employing slaves). Launaro (2011, 1–75) analyzed the evidence gathered in twenty-seven field surveys carried out across the peninsula, and has clearly shown that farms and villas were not mutually exclusive, as previously thought. Instead, they developed along similar trajectories, that is, in regions where survey data showed that villas rose in frequency over the course of time, there was also a rise in number of farms; if the trend was a stability, it was shown by both. These important conclusions have dispelled the idea that the Roman villa system based on slave labor was universal, or incompatible with farms; they also prompt reconsideration of the idea of a widespread crisis of the villa and agriculture in imperial period Italy, as already sketched. This picture corresponds with Carandini’s (1994) concept of the “peripheral villa,” originally proposed to account for the variability of villa typology and occupational history observed in the peninsula outside of central Italy. While the suburbium of Rome, south and central Tuscany, and most of Latium have seen a large number of field projects, systematic investigation of the Adriatic side of central Italy is more recent. After the important Biferno valley survey (Barker 1995), the ongoing survey of the Potenza valley in the Marche, which focuses on the northern portion of the Augustan region of Picenum, has yielded data that show a different picture of settlement history from that on the western side of the peninsula. Though there was an intensification of settlements in the Roman period in the Potenza valley, unlike other parts of central Italy, the countryside around Roman towns (particularly in the mid- and upper valley zones) did not develop much, possibly reflecting continuity of Iron Age settlements (Vermeulen and Mlekuz 2012, 214). On the other hand, in the lower valley around the colony of Potentia, there was more intense occupation of the countryside, with centuriation and different types of rural settlements.

Rural Settlements in Northern Italy The rural landscape of northern Italy was strongly defined by its geography: the Po River, its various navigable tributaries, and its alluvial, fertile plain were most suitable to agriculture, husbandry, and transport. Farms, villas, and villages are attested in varied proportion across the region, as are sanctuaries and large-scale intervention on the landscape, such as centuriation and extensive drainage works. The archaeological evidence does not always allow answers to specific questions on regional development, however. For example, the development of Augusta Taurinorum (Turin) is broadly known, but while two different centuration systems have been recognized in its territory, the evidence for either villas/farms or villages is rather scarce, as compared to the more abundant finds connected to burials. The trajectory followed by rural settlements in the northern regions is rather similar, going from modest farm to medium-sized villa to larger, monumental villa; but the chronology differs in each part of northern Italy. Modern Emilia, which was the first area to be conquered by Rome, had farms with a certain level of décor, such as mosaic floors, as early as the second century bce (e.g., Gemmano, Rimini, and Fiorano Modenese, Modena). The “villa” type made an early appearance on the Ligurian coast, in the bay of Varignano near La Spezia,

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where a maritime villa with portico and probably reception hall paved in opus signinum with a meander decoration was built in ca.155 bce. But when we move to Piedmont and Lombardy, the earliest known villas/farms date to the Augustan period, when the conquest of the Alpine region was completed. In fertile plains of Lombardy or Emilia, archaeological traces of farms or villas are almost completely absent; this was likely the result of the practice of despoiling earlier buildings in order to reuse their materials (always scarce on these colluvial plains) rather than an indication that these types of settlements were absent. As a general rule, a hierarchy of settlement types can be seen according to geographic location: along the marine coast and the lagoonal shores, we find medium- to large-sized rural complexes, whereas the plains and hills have a wider range of small to large settlements, indicating the varied economic roles these locations offered. It is generally believed that the villa system based on slave labor did not spread to northern Italy, where tenant farmers were preferred. This belief has had an effect on the interpretation of rural sites: whereas some scholars have seen central Italian villa courtyards surrounded by modular rooms as quarters for gangs of chained agricultural slaves (Carandini 1985), northern Italian rural mansions with modular rooms around courtyards are invariably interpreted as inns (mansiones), as in the Alba Docilia site in Liguria (Marzano 2007, 146–148). As in central Tyrrhenian Italy, where the “villa phenomenon” started, the fundamental relationship of villa to town is also clear in northern Italy: major villas, which in northeastern Italy started to appear in the first century ce, are concentrated in the territories of the main urban centers, such as Aquileia, or on the coast. The coastline between Tergeste (Trieste) and Pula (Pola) was occupied by many monumental maritime villas, which developed on a truly large scale in the first and second centuries ce, and had estates devoted to oleiculture and sheep rearing. The first century ce is also when luxurious villas started to appear on the shores of northern Italian lakes, such as Lake Garda, an area preferred by the urban elites of Brixia (Brescia) and Verona, and Lake Comum, a destination for the elites of Mediolanum and Comum itself. The monumental villas of Lake Garda, such as the so-called Grotte di Catullo complex at Sirmione, the villa of Desenzano, and that of Toscolano del Garda, have been known for a long time. Built on promontories or other vantage points on the lake shores, with commanding views, these complexes present an architectural typology similar to that of maritime villas. They were organized on multiple levels – three in the case of the Grotte di Catullo – and often present a porticoed front. The Grotte di Catullo villa, built in the first century ce and abandoned after a violent destruction at the end of the third century, had a main building with rectangular plan and central open space. The Toscolano villa, built in the first century ce, in the second century apparently belonged to Marcus Nonius Macrinus, consul in 154 ce, proconsul of Asia in 170–171 (Roffia 2015), a member of one of the most influential families of Brixia. It had a colonnaded loggia parallel to the lake shore and two protruding wings to the north and south, and underwent various modifications until the fifth century, with major rebuildings in the second and fourth centuries. The heyday of monumental luxury villas in northern Italy was the late antique period, when Mediolanum, and later Ravenna, became imperial seats (in 286 and 402 ce, respectively); notables of the imperial court kept luxury mansions in desirable out of town locations, a phenomenon similar to the development of villas in the suburbium of Rome in the Republican and early imperial period. In the 1990s and 2000s, several studies focused on early imperial or late antique villas in northern Italy (e.g., Ortalli 1996; De Franceschini 1999; Sfameni 2006). The general picture, however, is not complete: many sites were excavated long ago, before the diffusion of stratigraphic excavation methods; investigations have been partial, often giving priority to the residential quarters; in some cases environmental



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studies have been neglected; and more recent investigations have not yet been published (for a survey, see Brogiolo and Chavarría Arneau in Marzano and Métraux 2018). The typology of modest farms in northern Italy is of a regular, rectangular format, with five to nine rooms and an open-air court; this type of rural building is known for central Veneto and Emilia Romagna, for instance in the territory of Bologna (Busana 2000). Medium to large farms have central courtyards with rooms aligned around them, generally in a U-shaped plan open to the south, a typology that has much in common with Roman villas in France (Busana 2000, 228). For some of these settlements (e.g., at Ambrosan near S. Pietro in Cariano, and at Corte near S. Giorgio of Angarano), at the center of the main building there was a space with higher-quality features, such as an apsed hall. Porticoes, in some cases built in wood rather than masonry, as revealed by excavated postholes, frequently appeared in service areas, probably because of the colder and wetter weather in this part of Italy. Granaries – or storerooms for goods that needed to be isolated from the humidity of the soil – are known at various sites, such as at Sovizzo, Isola Vicentina, and Costabissara, Caorle (Busana 2000, 233). A common characteristic of these spaces, built at a distance from the main complex, is a raised wooden floor supported by small pillars or a series of small parallel walls.

Rural Settlements in Southern Italy The investigation of rural settlements in southern Italy has been very uneven. The focus has been almost exclusively on northern Campania (Arthur 1991), the Vesuvian area and Bay of Naples, with its concentration of luxury villas (Zarmakoupi 2013) and medium-sized farms mainly producing wine. There were few systematic studies (whether field surveys or of individual sites) in the regions further south in the 1970s and 1980s, except for the survey of the countryside of Buccino by Wesleyan University, 1969–1972, and excavations at San Giovanni di Ruoti, Potenza, by a Canadian team between 1977 and 1984. Research on the rural landscape of southern Italy has focused on the Hellenistic period, and on two major issues: the origin of the Roman villa, and whether this was a form of agricultural exploitation that Rome encountered and “adopted” from Magna Graecia; and the effects of the prolonged Hannibalic war. By the first century bce, the conquest of southern Italy was concluded, and villas developed in a number of areas. This does not imply that farms disappeared from the rural landscape, but field surveys indicate that at this time the number of villas in the area of eastern Lucania and western Apulia increased, and there were fewer simple farms (Fracchia and Gualtieri 2011, 24–26). These developments suggest that the villas here controlled larger agricultural estates. Both rural and coastal villas of the late first century bce display architectural forms attested elsewhere in central Italy. The late Republican villa at Termitito, with tetrastyle atrium with impluvium and large peristyle, is comparable in plan with rural (and urban) mansions of Latium or northern Campania, while retaining local, Hellenistic traditions such as the style of the terracotta antefixes from the atrium. Similar trends occur in contemporary villas around Tarentum. On the Tyrrhenian coast of Lucania and Bruttium, first-century bce maritime villas not only display plans similar to the ones of the villas in central Italy, but also specifically “Roman” building techniques, such as opus reticulatum (e.g., villa at Punta Tresino, Lucania; Gualtieri in Marzano and Métraux 2018). Presenting a coherent picture of the history of rural settlements in the first to third century ce for the whole of southern Italy is problematic, not only because of regional variations, but also due to the uneven nature of the evidence, with many sites practically unpublished. In parts of Lucania and Apulia, particularly in the second and early third centuries ce, architecturally sophisticated villas appeared, and can be connected to well-known senatorial families,

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such as the Brutii Presentes. The rise of senatorial estates in the south resulted from several well-known trends: the concentration of lands in the hands of fewer landlords, and Trajan’s ruling that senators running for office in Rome were required to invest part of their wealth in Italian properties. The emperor too had large estates in southern Italy. In the fourth and fifth centuries, many villas on a monumental scale were built in southern Italy, especially in Apulia and Lucania (Romizzi 2001). The villa at S. Giovanni in Ruoti in Lucania, for example, was a modest establishment in the early imperial period, probably belonging to a local landowner, but was rebuilt on a lavish scale in the late fourth to early fifth centuries. A similar level of architectural luxury and cosmopolitan sophistication is attested in Apulia as well.

Imperial Estates Among senatorial proprietors, the emperor was one of the biggest landlords, owning properties acquired via inheritance or confiscation all across the empire (Maiuro 2012). During the Roman Empire, villas and estates throughout Italy belonged to the emperor, but we see the formation of very large imperial estates in parts of southern Italy. Several are known in Apulia and are characterized by sparse distribution of rural sites, evidence for large-scale sheep farming and other agricultural activities, and epigraphic attestations of imperial freedmen and slaves. An ongoing project at Vagnari/S. Felice is combining targeted excavations, field survey, archaeometric analyses, and study of human bones to reveal precise data on imperial estates and their workforce. It has focused on two sites: a village at Vagnari, with kilns for tile production and iron working, and, about 1.3 km away, a villa at S. Felice. Several clues indicate that both the village and the villa were part of the same large estate, already owned by the imperial fisc in the first century ce. This estate was devoted to large-scale tile and brick production and to sheep rearing and associated wool textile manufacture, as indicated by inscriptions that recorded slaves engaged in those occupations. The results of study of the necropolis associated with the village show the value of a range of scientific analyses, which were previously too expensive for archaeological projects. As of the 2012 excavation season, ninety-eight burials, largely inhumations, had been investigated at Vagnari. Isotopic and DNA analysis of the human remains concluded that most of the people who worked on this estate were born locally, whereas around 25% came from other parts of the empire, both within and outside Italy’s borders, including one adult female from an East Asian group, and one adult male from a group originating in sub-Saharan Africa (Prowse et al. 2010, 190–191). Whatever their geographic origin, the type of deposition and grave goods did not differ from tomb to tomb, showing that all these individuals shared a social identity. Study of deposition practices at Vagnari has shown that the average number of grave goods increased with the age of the deceased; Brent and Prowse (2014, 105–106) revealed that 91% of burials contained grave goods, including ceramic, glass, and bronze vessels, lamps, coins, nails, and items of personal dress. The number of grave goods, on average 4.9 items per grave, does not match a contemporaneous burial site at the large village or small town of Musarna in the ager Taquiniensis in central Italy, where on average 1.3 items were found in graves (Rebillard 2009). This raises questions about the status of workers on imperial estates: Although many were slaves, did these individuals have a higher status and access to more goods than “normal” slaves or free peasants because they worked on an imperial estate?



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Villages Obviously, the rural landscape was not simply occupied by farms and villas, but also by villages (vici) organized into administrative districts (pagi). In the Apennine region of central Italy and some of the valleys leading to the Adriatic coast, peripheral areas with fewer towns than the Tyrrhenian region, vici had an important role in the organization of the territory and in providing services and amenities to the rural population. Vici have been largely studied from the juridical and institutional point of view, relying on epigraphic, juridical, and technical sources such as treatises of agronomists and land surveyors. Very few vici have been excavated or archaeologically documented for several reasons: their physical remains are poorer and less impressive than those of urban centers or large villas, presenting less of an incentive for excavation projects, and it is difficult to distinguish between villas/large farms and vici in field survey, as a scatter of pottery and building material such as marble fragments and mosaic tesserae could equally have belonged to a villa or to a public building of a vicus (Launaro 2011, 154–155 on the absence of villages in field surveys). The Vicus Augustanus Laurentium, on a stretch of coast south of Ostia also occupied by many elite villas, is an example of an excavated vicus with high-quality buildings, patronized by powerful freedmen of the emperor in the second century ce (Royal Holloway Classics Department 2019). The vicus is even mentioned in a letter of Pliny the Younger (2.17.26) as being near his own villa and offering a convenient place to buy supplies or use the baths if those in the villa had not been heated in time. At the other end of the spectrum, one can place the small vicus of Falacrinae, near modern Cittareale (Rieti) and the Via Salaria; having developed around a third-century bce sanctuary, it was continuously occupied until the early third century ce, but its buildings remained architecturally very modest throughout its history.

Concluding Remarks There is more to the archaeology of Roman Italy than this chapter could cover: the infrastructure network, comprising not only roads but also a system of primary and secondary ports, the object of recent investigations like the Portus Project and Rome’s Mediterranean Ports Project (University of Southampton 2013, 2019); the sacred landscape, in particular sanctuaries, often associated with periodic markets and important commercial networks; and funerary monuments, on which a good body of scholarship exists. As seen with the example of Vagnari, future archaeological research on Roman Italy promises interesting new developments, thanks to the increasing use of scientific analyses, and the integration of ecology, history, and archaeology. How the environment shaped and was shaped by humans, climate, cultivation, and type of vegetation are all research topics of current and future interest. New scientific data are steadily allowing in depth interpretation and the development of new interpretative frameworks, as well as prompting consideration of proper sampling strategies and methodology, as in a study of plant offerings at Roman cremation sites in northern Italy (Rottoli and Castiglioni 2011). The results of these studies have relevance not only for those interested in cultural and religious practices, but, combined with other data from excavations, such as pollen analysis, can give information on specific cultivated and spontaneous plants present in a region for the period under examination, thus reconstructing ancient economic activities, agricultural practices, trade patterns, and diet. Archaeological projects now require the collaboration of a number of experts in cutting-edge archaeological sciences as well as more traditional archaeological approaches, and it is thanks to this interdisciplinary interaction that considerable advancements in our knowledge of antiquity are being made.

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Biographical Note Annalisa Marzano (PhD 2004, Columbia University) is Professor of Classical Archaeology at the University of Bologna. She is an elected Fellow of the Royal Historical Society and the Society of Antiquaries of London, and a Member of the Academia Europaea. She has authored three monographs: Roman Villas in Central Italy (2007), Harvesting the Sea: The Exploitation of Marine Resources in the Roman Mediterranean (2013), and Plants, Politics and Empire in Ancient Rome (2022).

Abbreviations AE = L’Année Épigraphique. 1888–. Edited by René Cagnat et al. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. CIL = Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum. 1823–. Edited by Deutsche Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin. Paris: A. Franck.

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Frakes, James F. D. 2014. “Fora.” In A Companion to Roman Architecture, edited by Roger B. Ulrich and Caroline K. Quenemoen, 248–273. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell. Giardina, Andrea, and Aldo Schiavone, eds. 1981. Società romana e produzione schiavistica, 3 vols. Bari: Laterza. Goodman, Penelope. 2012. “Forum.” In The Encyclopedia of Ancient History (online version), edited by Roger S. Bagnall, Kai Brodersen, Craige B. Champion, Andrew Erskine, and Sabine R. Huebner. Oxford: Wiley Blackwell. DOI:10.1002/9781444338386.wbeah06145. Hay, Sophie, Simon Keay, and Martin Millett. 2013. Ocriculum (Otricoli, Umbria): An Archaeological Survey of the Roman Town. Archaeological Monographs of the British School at Rome 22. London: British School at Rome. Jongman, Willem. 2002. “Beneficial Symbols, Alimenta and the Infantilization of the Roman Citizen.” In After the Past. Essays in Ancient History in Honour of H. W. Pleket, edited by Willem Jongman and Marc Kleijwegt, Mnemosyne Supplement 233, 47–80. Leiden: Brill. Launaro, Alessandro. 2011. Peasants and Slaves. The Rural Population of Roman Italy (200 BC to AD 100). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Machado, R. C. A. 2010. “Public Monuments and Civic Life: The End of the Statue Habit in Italy.” In Le trasformazioni del V secolo. L’Italia, i Barbari e l’Occidente romano, edited by Paolo Delogu and Stefano Gasparri, 237–257. Turnhout: Brepols. Maiuro, Marco. 2012. Res Caesaris: ricerche sulla proprietà imperiale nel Principato. Pragmateiai 23. Bari: Edipuglia. Martin, Archer. 2005. “Variation in Ceramic Assemblages as an Indicator of Openness to Trade.” In Terra Marique: Studies in Art History and Marine Archaeology in Honor of Anna Marguerite McCann, edited by John Pollini, 61–76. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Marzano, Annalisa. 2007. Roman Villas in Central Italy: A Social and Economic History. Leiden: Brill. Marzano, Annalisa, and Guy P. R. Métraux, eds. 2018. The Roman Villa in the Mediterranean Basin: Late Republic to Late Antiquity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mertens, J., ed. 1995. Herdonia: scoperta di una città. Bari: Edipuglia. Morley, Neville. 1996. Metropolis and Hinterland. The City of Rome and the Italian Economy 200 B.C.– A.D. 200. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ortalli, Jacopo. 1996. “La fine delle ville romane: esperienze locali e problemi generali.” In La fine delle ville romane: trasformazioni nelle campagne tra tarda antichità e altomedioevo. 1º Convegno Archeologico del Garda, Gardone Riviera-Brescia, 14 ottobre 1995, edited by Gian Pietro Brogiolo, Documenti di Archeologia 11, 9–18. Mantua: S.A.P. Patterson, John R. 2006. Landscapes and Cities. Rural Settlement and Civic Transformation in Early Imperial Italy. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Potter, Timothy W. 1979. The Changing Landscape of South Etruria. London: Elek. Prowse, Tracy L., J. L. Barta, Tania E. von Hunnius, and Alistair M. Small. 2010. “Stable Isotope and Mitochondrial DNA Evidence for Geographic Origins on a Roman Estate at Vagnari (Italy).” In Roman Diasporas: Archaeological Approaches to Mobility and Diversity in the Roman Empire, edited by Hella Eckhart, Journal of Roman Archaeology Supplement 78, 175–198. Portsmouth, R.I: Journal of Roman Archaeology. Rebillard, Éric. 2009. Musarna, vol. 3: La nécropole impériale. Collection de l’École française de Rome 415. Rome: École française de Rome. Roffia, Elisabetta, ed. 2015. La villa romana dei Nonii Arrii a Toscolano Maderno. Milan: Comune di Toscolano Maderno and Soprintendenza Archeologia della Lombardia. Romizzi, Lucia. 2001. Ville d’otium dell’Italia antica. Naples: Edizioni scientifiche italiane. Rottoli, Mauro, and Elisabetta Castiglioni. 2011. “Plant Offerings from Roman Cremations in Northern Italy: A Review.” Vegetation History and Archaeobotany, 20, no. 5: 495–506. Sewell, Jamie. “Gellius, Philip II and a Proposed End to the ‘Model-Replica’ Debate.” In Roman Republican Colonization: New Perspectives from Archaeology and Ancient History, edited by Tesse D. Stek and Jeremia Pelgrom, 125–140. Rome: Palombi Editori. Sfameni, Carla. 2006. Ville residenziali nell’Italia Tardoantica. Bari: Edipuglia. University of Groningen. 1987-present. “Pontine Region Project (PRP).” Accessed June 1 2016. http://www.surveyarchaeology.eu/Pontine±Region±Project±(PRP)



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University of Southampton. No date. “Portus Project.” Accessed May 10 2016. www.portusproject.org University of Southampton. 2013. “Archaeologists and Historians to Investigate a Vast Network of Mediterranean Roman Ports.” Accessed May 10, 2016. www.southampton.ac.uk/news/2013/10/29mediterranean-roman-ports.page Vermeulen, Frank, Gert-Jan Burgers, Simon Keay, and Cristina Corsi, eds. 2012. Urban Landscape Survey in Italy and the Mediterranean. Oxford: Oxbow books. Vermeulen, Frank, and Dimitri Mlekuz. 2012. “Surveying an Adriatic Valley: A Wide Area View on Early Urbanization Processes in Northern Picenum.” In Urban Landscape Survey in Italy and the Mediterranean, edited by Frank Vermeulen, Gert-Jan Burgers, Simon Keay, and Cristina Corsi, 207– 222. Oxford: Oxbow books. Witcher, Robert E. 2006. “Broken Pots and Meaningless Dots? Surveying the Rural Landscapes of Roman Italy.” Papers of the British School at Rome, 74: 39–72. Zanker, Paul. 2012. “La struttura delle città romane e i loro edifici pubblici in Italia.” In Storia dell’architettura italiana. Architettura romana: le città in Italia, edited by Henner von Hesberg and Paul Zanker, 18–39. Milan: Electa. Zarmakoupi, Mantha. 2013. Designing for Luxury on the Bay of Naples (c.100 BCE–79 CE): Villas and Landscapes. Oxford Studies in Ancient Culture and Representation. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

CHAPTER 11

SICILIA Roger J.A. Wilson

Introduction Sicilia is a curious province. After the naval Battle of Naulochus off northern Sicily in 36 bce, when Sextus Pompey’s brief regime was brought to a decisive end by the future emperor Augustus, the island merited little attention in the ancient sources for the next five hundred years (Figure 11.1). Augustus returned in 22/1 bce, Caligula reportedly fled the terrors of Mount Etna and the indefatigable Hadrian climbed it; Syracuse was raided by Franks in 278 ce, and in 361 troops lined up for an invasion of Africa that never materialized. Until, however, Vandal raids started from North Africa in 440 ce, and in 533 Belisarius brought troops and ships to use the island as a springboard for invading Africa (returning two years later to annex Sicily for the Byzantines), the years slipped by in almost unbroken tranquillity. So how did Sicily change from being, during the Republic, a political force to be reckoned with, the primary producer of grain for the people of Rome, to becoming an apparently sleepy backwater of so little importance? Arguments from silence are always misleading, and to marginalize Sicily for a lack of “events” is a mistake. Much changed in Sicily between the late first century bce and the sixth century ce, and although we can lament the meager epigraphic documentation and the lack of detail in the archaeological record until recently, enough survives to sketch in outline the character of this province, which follows a trajectory unlike any other in the western empire. Its very insularity was a factor in shaping this, a province with clearly defined sea-girt boundaries and a tendency, as today, to chart an independent path, open to cultural developments, especially from peninsular Italy, but at the same time, paradoxically, resistant to change. As an island situated at the very heart of the Mediterranean, Sicily also benefited from accessibility to the major trade routes that passed its shores, and the distinctiveness of its island identity was therefore harnessed to a vibrant connectivity: goods and ideas flowed into Sicily through its major ports from the four corners of the Mediterranean and beyond. The Mediterranean’s largest island (at 25,000 km2), Sicily was and is, despite its size, intimately linked with the sea.

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 1, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

Figure 11.1  Map of Sicily indicating places mentioned in the text, by John Wallrodt.

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By 36 bce most of Sicily had been a Roman province for just over two hundred years (and Hieron’s former kingdom of Syracuse for 175 years), “the first of all to receive the title of province, the first such jewel in our imperial crown,” as Cicero memorably described it (Against Verres 2.1.2). The impact of Rome during the last two centuries bce had been mixed (Wilson 2013a, 2013b). The island’s cities continued to be governed by their own constitutions, and inscriptions were set up, in Greek, on the authority of “the council and the people” (Prag 2015). Improvements were made to the road system, including the north coast route from Marsala to Messina, the Via Valeria (Uggeri 2004). Rome’s interest in Sicily was above all as a major supplier of grain; improving infrastructure helped facilitate transport of key commodities, as well as symbolizing Roman power and control. Another change was Rome’s reform of the coinage: local silver issues were replaced after 211 bce by denarii minted in Rome. Only bronze coins continued to be issued locally, including civic coinage from a wide variety of communities, all with legends in Greek. The most important impact, however, was made by Rome’s introduction of a new tax system, a modification of Hieron’s, whereby 10% of the wheat and barley crop, and of other staples like wine, olives, fruits, and vegetables, was paid in kind by both communities and individuals. Rome reserved the right to take a second tithe, if needed, for cash at a price set by the Senate in Rome. Any further surplus was available for sale on the open market. Far from being exploitative, the new taxation stimulated Sicilian agriculture as never before, and city elites, who owned the rural properties where crops were grown, became rich on the proceeds. Their profits found a physical outlet in the euergetism shown toward their patriae: city centers and other public buildings like theaters were built or rebuilt on a lavish scale, especially in the second century bce. Also new was the greater involvement of businessmen from Italy in Sicilian commerce and financial matters, and the close association of some members of the Sicilian elite with the rich and powerful in Rome itself. The visual culture of Sicily retained throughout the last two centuries bce a predominantly Greek character, a distinctively Sicilian brand of Hellenism shaped initially by the cultural creativity of Hieron’s Syracuse – agorai and impressive two storied stoas, D-shaped theaters, gymnasia and bouleuteria. The houses of the elite were almost invariably of the traditional Hellenistic peristyle type, arranged around a large central courtyard; Italic-style atria are extremely rare. Only temples started to imitate Roman models with frontal steps and high podia, though mostly constructed of time-honored large-block materials. Inscriptions remained almost exclusively in Greek; pre-Augustan examples in Latin number fewer than twenty (Prag 2007, 257–260). Only in the far western part of Sicily, which had for a time been under Carthaginian control, was Punic spoken. Neo-Punic inscriptions have been found there, and some aspects of the built environment (cisterns, sanctuaries, use of the Punic foot) show lingering elements of the Carthaginian heritage. Yet in Marsala, Greek had already supplanted Punic by the end of the second century bce, although Cicero implies it was not of the purest strain (Divination against Caecilius 12.39).

The Augustan Settlement The reign of Augustus represented a major turning point. Cicero, in a letter to Atticus (14.12.1), had noted with disapproval that Julius Caesar granted Latin rights (ius Latii) to all free-born Sicilians shortly before 44 bce, giving principal magistrates (duoviri) and their families automatic Roman citizenship on demitting office. Augustus’s subsequent administrative arrangements for the province, made in 22/21 bce, have been the subject of intensive scholarly debate. The section in Pliny the Elder’s Natural History (3.86–94), written before 79 ce but based on an Augustan source of ca. 21 bce, tells us that Augustus established five colonies



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of retired legionary soldiers (cf. Res Gestae divi Augusti 28) at Syracuse, Catania, Taormina, Tindari and Termini Imerese. These were settled in 21 bce except for Taormina (36 bce). Palermo, omitted by Pliny, was an Augustan colonia later than 21 bce, but only by a few years. All had already had a long history as either Greek or (in the case of Palermo) Phoenician foundations. The arrival in each place of some three thousand Latin-speaking ex-soldiers, all Roman citizens, injected a significant “Roman” element for the first time, and drastically affected patterns of land ownership, since territory in the hinterland of each was seized and reallocated to the new settlers. They remained the major cities in the province down into late antiquity. Two further ones, Messina and Lipari, are described by Pliny as oppida civium Romanorum, which may mean nothing more than that each already possessed a sizable community of Roman businessmen and entrepreneurs, established in some Sicilian cities since the later Republic (Cicero, e.g., Against Verres 2.5.10). Greater problems concern the three towns described by Pliny as Latinae condicionis, i.e., those that possessed the ius Latii: Centuripe and Noto Antica in eastern Sicily, and Segesta in the west. Some other places, including Agrigento near the south coast, Marsala on the west, and Solunto and Cefalù on the north coast, are simply called oppida, “towns,” without indication of status. The rest, mainly inland and occupying hill-top locations, are described as civitates stipendiariae, “tax-paying communities.” At face value, if only three places possessed the ius Latii, Augustus apparently revoked Caesar’s wholesale grant of Latin rights. Yet inscriptions and municipal coin issues show that before Augustus’ death in 14 ce, at least four further communities – Halaesa, S. Marco d’Alunzio, Agrigento, and Marsala – were called municipia or had magistrates called duoviri, titles only appropriate in communities with Latin rights. So did these get special promotions during Augustus’ reign (Wilson 1990, 42–43)? A newly found inscription points to a different solution. The citizens of the municipium (municipales) of the tiny urban center on the island of Pantelleria set up a statue of the recently deceased Germanicus in 19 or 20 ce (Schäfer, Schmidt, and Osanna 2015, 777–781). If a place as insignificant as Pantelleria was already a municipium in the early years of Tiberius’ reign, the chances are that all Sicilian communities had this title, and enjoyed Latin rights, throughout the Augustan period. It now looks likely that Caesar’s grant was never revoked, and that something is missing in Pliny’s text. Centuripe, Neto, and Segesta may have been singled out, not because they had Latin rights but because they enjoyed privileged tax-free status (immunes), but the word is missing in the surviving text of Pliny. The ius Latii increased the number of Roman citizens in the Sicilian communities every year, and establishing veteran colonies also added significant numbers of Roman citizens to the Sicilian population, most of them Latin speakers: not surprisingly, Latin inscriptions started from Augustan times to appear in the colonies. A decree allowing senators to travel to Sicily without specific imperial permission (Tacitus, Annals 12.23.1: 49 ce) was perhaps also Augustan in origin, aimed at encouraging land investment in Sicily by a non-Sicilian elite. Augustus seems to have wanted a province more fully integrated into the Italian system, diluting its hitherto largely Greek character. He also converted the tithe system into a fixed levy (stipendium), although whether this was still paid in kind or in cash is uncertain. Strabo (Geography 6.2.4) implied that there was an Augustan building program, paid for in part by the emperor, at Syracuse, Catania, and Centuripe, and though we lack details, it would be surprising if there were not Augustan buildings in other Sicilian towns. New monuments of Roman type – such as the first phase of the amphitheater at Syracuse, some work in the theater there, and the earliest versions of aqueducts at Catania, Termini Imerese, and Taormina – might be Augustan or at least Julio-Claudian; and rubble aggregate construction (opus caementicium) certainly makes its first appearance on the island in the Augustan period. Other building projects of Augustan or Julio-Claudian date include an arch, a public garden (adjacent to the amphitheater) and public baths at Syracuse, a square with a small market

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building tacked onto the main agora at Segesta (Ampolo and Parra 2018, 215–220), a new temple on the agora at Monte Iato (Ietas), and changes to an earlier temple in a precinct adjacent to the main agora/forum at Agrigento (Livadiotti and Fino 2017; Reusser 2021) – mostly, no doubt, the result of private euergetism rather than imperial benefaction. Augustan colonies in Sicily are (with one exception, Tindari) still vibrant cities today, a hindrance, of course, to recovering details of their ancient topography.

Urbanization Major Harbor Cities The major cities of the province during the empire were located on the sea. The presence of a harbor was a key to economic prosperity: such places benefited from handling lucrative export produce, and were the funnels through which a wide range of imported goods and materials arrived in the province. All the evidence suggests that in the early and high empire, coastal cities were flourishing. Several are known to have constructed new public buildings or upgraded old ones; and private wealth is revealed by notable examples of rich town houses. Syracuse remained the seat of the governor and provincial capital down into Byzantine times; it was blessed with two sheltered harbors and a rich and fertile hinterland. During the middle empire, the city was embellished with new or refurbished monuments in the marble style, demonstrating both the city’s prominence and its lively contacts with the eastern Mediterranean. Hieron’s theater was given a new scene building and marble paving in the orchestra. In the second century, the Amphitheater was rebuilt, the Forum was upgraded with imported Greek marmor Chalcidicum from Euboea, and an unusual theater-temple complex, possibly for the Syrian god Atargatis, was refurbished: its temple’s entablature is of pure Asia Minor type, unparalleled elsewhere in Sicily (Wilson 1990, 106–111). The Corinthian capitals in the Forum were imported from the quarries of Proconnesus in the Sea of Marmara, while others at Syracuse are close in type to those of Pergamum. Along with column shafts of Troad granite and Lesbian bigio morato, there are also lotus and acanthus capitals imported from Attica, unique in Sicily (Pensabene 2016). The main theater was again restored in the late fourth century, when it was converted to stage water shows. The city’s extensive catacomb system with thousands of graves points to a large Christian population in late antiquity. Catania has many Roman monuments within its modern fabric (Tortorici 2016). It is one of the few Sicilian cities that increased in size during the empire, from about 65 ha during the Roman Republic to 90 ha at its greatest extent. A large amphitheater was added in the first century (Flavian?) and enlarged in the mid- to late second century (Beste, Becker, and Spigo 2007). The theater was restructured on a grand scale, probably also in the second century, adding a new marble stage facade (scaenae frons) in the early third (Pensabene 2005), when an odeum (recital hall) was built alongside. Catania’s mid-imperial bath building was replaced ca. 350 by another at the same site of more impressive size, with a large, domed cold (?) room still intact (Terme della Rotonda); while a smaller public bath, the Terme dell’Indirizzo, probably built ca. 350–400, is among the best-preserved examples of its type anywhere in the empire (Liuzzo, Margani, and Wilson 2018). Another bathhouse, the Thermae Achillianae, was restored as late as 434 ce (IG 14, 455), and also in the fifth century, emblematic statues of the city’s heroes were restored to the theater (AE 1956, 259). By contrast, the amphitheater seems to have fallen into disuse by ca. 350–400. Both Syracuse and Catania are listed among the empire’s leading cities in the fourth century (Ausonius, Ordo Urbium Nobilium, “Order of Notable Cities”).



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Taormina, on a spectacular hilltop overlooking the sea and Mount Etna, also rebuilt, enlarged and adapted its theater during the empire, principally in the second century ce (Figure 11.2), when an odeum was added nearby. Remains of numerous cisterns, some of gigantic proportions, show the investment made in the collection of water, especially that from its aqueduct systems. One spacious peristyle house with second-century black and white mosaics and fine wall plaster, currently under excavation, shows no sign of abandonment until Byzantine times, although the central garden may have been sacrificed to keep animals there in the fifth century (Campagna 2018). About Messina we know less, but its fine natural harbor on the Straits of Messina, through which every ship bound for Rome from the East would have passed, ensured its continuing commercial importance throughout antiquity and beyond. On the north coast, Tindari, another hilltop city, may have been less fortunate. Pliny (Natural History 2.206) reported a devastating earthquake in the mid-first century ce, but the city recovered to adapt its theater for amphitheatrical spectacles in the second or third century, and to build spacious, well-appointed houses, occupied to the late fourth century (Leone and Spigo 2008). Then another devastating earthquake struck ca. 400 ce; the streetpaving buckled along the lines of its broken drains, and houses ­collapsed, never to be rebuilt. Although there was an attempt to kickstart urban life again with the “Basilica,” a grandiose new entrance-hall to the Forum erected ca. 425–450, dwellings that belong to the mid-fifth century were humble structures, partly invading former streets (Wilson 2018a, 454–457). Life had mostly petered out by ca. 500, but a small Byzantine fortified center clung to the acropolis farther south. Of Termini Imerese, an amphitheater is known, and marble buildings once graced the Forum area. Traces of a first century bathhouse have emerged recently under the early

Figure 11.2  Taormina, the scaenae frons of the Roman theatre (second century ce), looking southwards towards the sea; the settlement of Naxus lay around the bay seen in the middle distance. Goethe in 1787 said of the view: “never did any audience in any theatre have such a spectacle as you there behold.” Photo by Roger J.A. Wilson.

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modern spa building, and impressive first- and second-century aqueducts are still partly visible in the landscape (Belvedere et al. 1993). The urban topography of Roman Palermo is largely unknown, but a spacious house with third-century mosaics in Piazza Vittoria testifies to a certain level of prosperity for one member of the urban elite. This lay close to the cathedral, likely the site of a temple and/or the Forum in Roman times, to judge from marble architectural elements and reliefs found there. On the west coast, only part of ancient Marsala, near Capo Boeo, is not covered by the modern town; there a mid-imperial bath building and a sanctuary of Isis have recently been revealed (Giglio Cerniglia 2015a, 2015b). That there was a high level of private prosperity between the second and fourth centuries is suggested by the number of mosaics found, but despite recent discoveries, a spacious mansion with baths excavated 80 years ago remains our most coherent example of a Marsalan house. The city was raised to colony status ca. 193 ce by Septimius Severus, in memory of his predecessor Pertinax. But by the late fourth century, tombs had started to invade the area of the paved central street heading northwestward toward the sea. The town must have shrunk considerably in late antiquity – surprising in view of its close links with Carthage, which continued to prosper at this time (Caruso and Spanò Giammellaro 2008). Along the south coast, the only city of note in imperial times was Agrigento, located just inland but with a separate coastal settlement at San Leone, of which some remains have emerged in recent years. The harbor there, now completely silted up, still functioned in the eighth century. Few public projects of Roman date in Agrigento are known, apart from changes to the Hellenistic temple mentioned above, but the position of the nearby Forum is known, and the theater (also Hellenistic in origin) has now been located a little farther south (Caminneci et al. 2018). Agrigento was prominent enough to win promotion to colonial status in Severan times, as an inscription recently found at Marsala shows (AE 2014, 436). Agrigento’s wealth no doubt came from exporting agricultural produce from its vast territory, and also sulphur, of which the region was the Roman world’s principal supplier (see below). By the late third century ce, the first cemeteries appeared along the temple ridge inside the southern walls of the former Greek polis, showing that the urban center had already shrunk: of the ca. 350 ha occupied during classical Greek times, field survey suggests that by the time of the Roman Empire, the city, though still substantial, covered 100 ha at most. The dismantling of the portico in the temple precinct off the Forum in the late fourth century suggests decline, and the open space in front of the shrine was used for a variety of industrial processes in the fifth century (Parello 2018). Houses of the so-called Hellenistic Roman quarter immediately to the east, still vibrant in mid-imperial times, also began also to show signs of stress, with the subdividing of formerly grand houses. By the second half of the fifth century, the quarter had been largely abandoned, and burials began inside ruined houses. To the east of Agrigentum, the former polis of Licata had already shrunk in size in late Hellenistic times, when the outlying quarters on Monte San Angelo were abandoned. A smaller nucleus around the harbor continued throughout imperial times, although it may by then have lost its civic status and become a dependency of Agrigentum (Raffa 2017).

Other Urban Centers By contrast with the flourishing state of harbor cities, urbanism in the interior of the island was in decline during the empire. This was not a new phenomenon (de Ligt 2020). Morgantina in the heart of Sicily had substantially shrunk in size as early as the end of the third century bce or just after, when the northern part of the town was abandoned (Trümper



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2018, 384); life around the city center finally petered out ca. 50 ce. Monte Iato, south of Palermo, a hilltop city that, like Morgantina, has been extensively excavated over the past fifty years, went into a steep decline after 50 ce, perhaps due to earthquake damage. Life did not cease altogether: some houses were patched up with recycled materials, and public areas like stoas were subdivided by partitions to create makeshift dwellings and workshops; but the place no longer functioned as a city, and its public buildings were in disrepair (Reusser 2021). Farther west, Segesta continued rather longer, and in the middle of the first century the town applied to the Emperor Tiberius for help in restoring the Temple of Venus on Mount Erice (Tacitus, Annals 4.43; Suetonius, Claudius 25.5). Although there were continuing signs of life in the second century ce, in the early third the fine two-storied stoa in the Agora, by then nearly 350 years old, finally collapsed from lack of maintenance (Ampolo and Parra 2018). Segesta then lay deserted until small pockets of settlement gathered once again on the hill in the troubled times of the late empire, a pattern also seen at Monte Iato. East of Palermo, Solunto, a hill-town close to the coast, has produced plentiful finds of the first and second centuries ce, when some public works (including a bathhouse) were renovated and some private houses redecorated (Cutroni Tusa et al. 1994; Lang 2018). A dedication (CIL 10, 7336) to Fulvia Plautilla, wife of the emperor Caracalla, by the Respublica Soluntinorum “by decree of the decurions” shows that the city’s administration was still functioning in the early third century. There is nothing of later date from the site, and one wonders whether the population then descended to a new nucleus around the small harbor in the bay of Solanto, at or near where the Phoenicians had made their original settlement ca. 700 bce. Farther east, a similar transfer may have happened at Halaesa, another hill-town. Its impressive stoa on the agora had transformed the appearance of its urban center in the second century bce, but as at Segesta, it was never substantially upgraded in imperial times (Scibona and Tigano 2009, 9–96). Nonetheless, civic pride remained strong into the middle empire: the latest of the newly published marble dedications by the municipal council is to Trajan Decius, in the mid-third century (Prag and Tigano 2017, no. 32). The harbor that served Halaesa lies 5 km away at Castel di Tusa, where there are late Roman graves and other finds; although small, this coastal settlement outlived Halaesa, which was a shadow of its former self by the fourth century (Facella 2006, 297–315). A similar shift from hilltop to settlement around a harbor nearby can be seen even more clearly at Caronía, another north coast hill-town, midway between Palermo and Messina. Here the hilltop town of Kale Akte (Calacte), founded in the fifth century bce, had petered out by the close of the first century ce, but a harbor settlement at its foot, at Marina di Caronía, flourished into early Byzantine times (Lindhagen 2020). A handful of urban centers bucked the trend. Recent excavations at Acrae, a satellite of Syracuse, show continued occupation through the mid-empire into late Roman times (Chowaniec 2018). Lofty Enna at the center of the island, with its celebrated sanctuary of Ceres and Proserpina, may have continued until the late empire; but a Latin funerary inscription mentioning a priestess (sacerdos) of the cult ca. 100 ce is the last certain testimony. The temple itself lies under a Lombard castle (Kunz 2006, 67). Little is known about the rest of the ancient city. Adrano, on the slopes of Etna, had benefited from the tourist trade to the mountain as well as its propinquity to the fertile plain of Catania, and boasted some substantial mid-imperial buildings. This seems to have been a rare Sicilian example of a “new town,” built to replace a Hellenistic predecessor immediately to the west. The reason for the shift is unknown; an otherwise unattested earthquake is a possible explanation. A little farther west, Centuripe, perched spectacularly on a five-fingered hilltop, had many mid-imperial structures, some imposing. A splendid range of Julio-Claudian marble busts survives from a shrine to the imperial cult in the Forum. One of its sons was Q. Pompeius Sosius Priscus, senator in Rome and consul in 149 ce (Patanè 2011). Centuripe

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was clearly an exception to the general rule – an inland Sicilian city that continued to prosper under the empire. Overall, though, the picture that emerges is of Sicily’s gradual and extensive de-urbanization during the empire, except for the coastal cities. As a result, there were large swathes of the island where there was no full-fledged urban center for miles. As a province, Sicilia was more akin to Achaea or parts of Asia Minor where cities were thinly scattered, than to other western provinces where a dense urban network was the norm. Territories of abandoned cities must have been amalgamated with those that survived: Agrigento and Marsala, for example, became neighbors, 70 miles apart. What happened to the local elites who had previously supported communities such as Segesta and Monte Iato during the Republic, but who drifted elsewhere under the empire, is uncertain. They might have withdrawn to their country properties, which would have continued to be the source of their wealth; or they may have moved to a more vibrant city on the coast, however inconvenient the greater physical distance from their landed estates might have been. Responsibility for the Erice sanctuary, still under Segesta’s watch ca. 25 ce, must have transferred to Trapani or Marsala. Sicilian deurbanization during the empire is a complex phenomenon, with no single straightforward explanation (Pfuntner 2019). Natural disasters such as earthquakes may have been a factor at some, but the most likely cause of decline was location. It makes no sense to live on an often waterless hilltop if security and defense were no longer overriding concerns. Economic factors played a part, too: when agricultural surpluses were designed for export, whether as taxation in kind or for sale, why drag them up to markets or stores in the hilltowns, only to take them down again later for sea transport? The Pax Romana shaped a change from the dominance of the hill-town that had hitherto prevailed in Sicily for centuries.

Rural Settlement That the decline of hill-towns was not matched by desertion of their hinterlands has been shown by numerous archaeological surveys conducted all over Sicily in the past thirty years. There are of course minor fluctuations between settlement distributions from one microregion to another, but the general pattern is of a steady number of sites occupied in the first three centuries ce, and then a growth in either site numbers or the size of existing sites in the fourth and fifth centuries ce. This late Roman florescence emerges consistently from survey after survey, possibly the indirect result of Constantinople’s foundation in 324 ce and the consequent diversion of much African and Egyptian grain toward the East, leaving Sicily to enjoy once more the role that it had performed under the Republic: principal supplier of essential foodstuffs to Rome and its neighbourhood. A couple of random survey results gives a flavor of the evidence. That in the Monte Sicani region in the western part of Agrigento province found that thirty-three sites produced early imperial material and thirty were still occupied in the third century, but the total number of sites then grew during the fourth and fifth centuries to forty-nine, an increase of over 50 percent (Klug 2017). By contrast, in the hinterland of Halaesa, there was an initial decrease in number of sites from fifty-seven occupied in the late Republic to thirty-nine in the early empire, and half of those were abandoned by the third century, but by the second half of the fourth century they had increased again to thirty-eight, of which twenty-three were new (Burgio 2018). Of course, crude numbers tell only part of the story. Rural sites vary enormously in size, and an elaborate hierarchy has been proposed according to the size of each surface scatter of pottery. The smallest, covering less than a hectare, is thought to indicate a farm, whereas a spread of material covering 1–3  hectares (ha) is reckoned to denote a large farm or villa,



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3–8  ha a village, and the biggest, from 8  ha upward, either a vicus or “agro-town,” the equivalent of the French agglomération secondaire (Klug 2017, 125–130). Interpretation of surface scatters is fraught with difficulty unless supported by geophysical research and/or excavation, and a further problem is differing terminology used by different survey teams. If “villa” is taken to mean a rural building of some pretension, including columns, baths and mosaic floors, none of these features may be visible on the surface – structures are sometimes deeply buried and have not been disturbed by the plough. So villa estate-centers like Patti Marina and Gerace looked like agricultural villages before excavation showed otherwise. Discrete sites such as burial grounds a little distance from settlements may also not be easily distinguishable by surface evidence: there is a danger of interpreting some as farmsteads. Nevertheless, numerous surveys indicate that the Sicilian countryside during the empire was densely populated with a range of different types of settlement, which especially flourished ­during the fourth and fifth centuries.

Estates and “Agro-towns” The most intriguing of these rural settlements are the largest, of which the most intensively studied is Philosophiana: this covered 21 ha at its greatest extent, in the fourth and fifth centuries ce. It lies in contrada Sofiana, well-watered land in the center of Sicily, on the main Roman road linking Catania with Agrigento (La Torre 2018a). It had started life in Augustan times, apparently as a planned town: excavations have uncovered an elegant peristyle house, a small bathhouse and part of a regular grid of paved streets. One wonders whether this new foundation was an initiative of central government to found new urban or quasi-urban settlements in the valleys and along the main roads; indeed, the upgrading of the road itself may have been part of the same policy, to improve Sicilian infrastructure. As we lack inscriptions, we do not know if this and other such “agro-towns” enjoyed nominal self-administration (under vicomagistri?), even if officially belonging to the territory of a city that might have been far away. The house was destroyed ca. 300 ce, and a new, larger bathhouse on a different orientation was built soon after: the old street grid was no longer respected. The name appears in the Itinerarium Antoninum (88.2) as “Gela or Philosophianis.” The first, named for the nearby river Gela, may have been the name of the original settlement, changed when it became part of a private estate, the praedia Philosophiana. It did, however, still offer lodging for official travelers of the cursus publicus, since it is also listed in the Itinerarium 94.2, perhaps an early fourth century revision of that document, as one of the “mansiones now established.” To what extent Sofiana’s development is matched by other “agro-towns” awaits further research, but one at Vito Soldano near Canicatti, farther west on the same Roman road, and at ca. forty hectares nearly double the size of Sofiana, shows a remarkably similar history: early imperial occupation including small baths giving way to a new and larger bath building ca. 300, and a regular street grid, at least in part (Iannicelli, Tempio, and Tortorici 2016). Like that of Philosophiana, its ancient name, probably Corconiana, suggests that at some stage it was part of a private estate; others include Capitoniana near Catania, Comiciana on the Palermo–Agrigento road and Calvisiana on the south coast (see Figure 11.1 for these and others). Located on the ground with reasonable certainty, these await excavation.

Small Harbor Settlements Calvisiana appears to lack a harbor, unlike other small coastal settlements that either started life or greatly expanded during the Roman Empire. Like the “agro-towns” of the interior, they do not seem to have possessed much by way of public buildings beyond a small

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bathhouse, but nonetheless benefited from their location on natural harbors and thus from Sicilia’s booming export economy. Mazara in the far west, originally a small dependency of the long-dead polis Selinus, but during the empire under nearby Marsala’s wing, was one example. In prime location for exploiting the profitable African trade route, it has yielded over two dozen stone inscriptions, unusually high for an agglomération secondaire in Sicily. Little is known about the only other small south-coast settlement, Sciacca. Other minor harbor settlements that flourished under the empire include Naxus below Taormina, in part covering the site of the long-abandoned Greek city of Naxos but now sprawling farther along the coast, where store buildings, a bathhouse, and amphora kilns have been excavated (Lentini 2001); and Vendicari, at the southeast corner of Sicily, where tombs and a church are known but which awaits detailed excavation (Rizzone and Sammito 2016). Caronía Marina on the north coast, already mentioned, is another example of a small, prosperous harbor settlement.

Villages Despite their ubiquity in surveys, very few Sicilian villages or farms of Roman imperial date have been excavated; further investigation is a priority for future research. The few excavated villages are all late Roman. Campanaio, 5 km inland west of Agrigento, was first occupied during the late Republic, but showed fresh building activity ca. 375 ce, including long rectangular warehouses or stores as well as houses, a vat for storing wine or olive oil, a lime kiln, and evidence for ironworking, possible tanning, and the manufacture of tiles, mortaria, and amphorae of the small flat-bottomed Keay 52 type, probably for wine. The buildings had stone foundations and pisé (rammed earth) superstructures, a technique that lasted in Sicily from Greek archaic times down into late antiquity. Carbonized deposits yielded grapes, lentils, and two varieties of wheat. Deer bones (red, roe, and fallow) came second only to ovicaprids in fifth-century deposits, a reminder that Sicily was far more forested in antiquity than today, and that venison was not only the privilege of the rich. Occupation came to a violent end ca. 460 ce, possibly a consequence of Vandal raiding (Wilson 2000a). Parts of two very similar villages have been excavated more recently farther west, at Verdura (ca. 1 ha) and Carabollace, both on the sea and close to small anchorages. They also have large buildings of mudbrick or pisé on top of stone footings, with pairs of rooms side by side. Verdura, like Campanaio, was destroyed in the mid-fifth century; Carabollace, however, continued into the sixth (Caminneci 2014). The clearest picture of a late Roman village in Sicily comes from a coastal settlement near Punta Secca in Ragusa province, occupied (on numismatic evidence) for almost three hundred years, ca. 350–650. Most of the two dozen buildings are small houses, often with a yard and a stairway leading to an upper floor, but at least one is likely to have been a storebuilding, and another is the village church, probably not earlier than the fifth century (Pelagatti and Di Stefano 1999). Differences in masonry styles indicate that the village grew gradually, each house having several building phases; recent work in one demonstrated that it was not added before the end of the sixth century (Wilson 2017). A modest village of similar type, also with small church, is known at Giarranauti west of Syracuse (Basile 1996). Another has been investigated at Scauri Bay on the island of Pantelleria: here dwellings were arranged on terraces above the beach, with an area of shops and stores, and an industrial quarter with a kiln making local Pantellerian cooking ware. On a knoll to the west was a small fifth-century church and baptistery. A dozen graves of the village cemetery were excavated, one yielding a glass beaker imported from the Rhineland. A ship whose cargo was 75 percent Pantellerian kitchen ware sank in the bay just offshore ca. 400–450 ce (Tusa, Zangara, and La



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Rocca 2009). This pottery had a wide, mainly coastal, distribution in the western Mediterranean for more than 400 years, from the first to the fifth century ce (Montana et al. 2007).

Farms Farms have received even less attention than villages. One at Castagna west of Agrigento measured 30 m by 12.50 m and had 15 rooms, with beaten earth floors and mudbrick superstructure on stone foundations. Built ca. 50 ce, it was twice altered and enlarged before its collapse ca. 180–200 ce (Wilson 1996). Despite its humble form, there were some highstatus finds, including lead-glazed ware from Tarsus in Cilicia and a mold-blown glass beaker with a Greek inscription (“Rejoice! Enjoy yourself!”), probably from the eastern Mediterranean. Animal bones were mostly sheep/goats, but also present were tortoise (attested also at Scauri Bay), hare, and deer – red, roe, and considerable quantities of fallow deer. Other farms include Cusumano in the Belice valley farther west, where a pit produced ploughshares, a pruning blade, and a stone weight for a wine or olive press (late Roman); and Cuba near Salaparata, occupied from Augustan times until the fourth century, where one room with an opus signinum pavement and parts of three other earth-floored ones were excavated, along with three in-situ dolia, large vessels for storing agricultural produce (Lesnes 2014). On Sicily’s northeastern tip, a group of nine very simple two- or three-roomed dwellings at Gazirri have been uncovered, constructed at different times between the mid-fourth and the late fifth century (Tigano 2011, 15–44). Yet even such a modest site was supplied with pottery and amphorae from Africa and farther afield, including Phocaean red slip from western Asia Minor and Late Roman 1 oil amphorae (plentiful in Sicily) from Cilicia. Proximity to Messina gave even minor sites like Gazirri access to a wide range of imported goods.

Villas Villas of the elite are better known. Many have been located from surface evidence or chance finds of mosaics or marble sculpture, but only a few have been extensively excavated. Almost all have living rooms arranged on all four sides of a central, usually columnar, peristyle (Wilson 2018b). The earliest examples, at Mirabile near Mazara and San Luca midway between Agrigento and Palermo, started sometime in the second to first century bce; at the latter the agricultural part of the building, including a small storage building, lay alongside the residential core. Neither outlasted the second to third centuries ce. Another early villa, this time by the sea, is at Marina di Avola south of Syracuse, with mainly opus signinum floors but also some use of marble, a material unlikely to be pre-Augustan in Sicily. More fully excavated are two mid-imperial villas, Castroreale San Biagio (Terme Vigilatore) in Messina province, and Durrueli di Realmonte on the coast near Agrigento. Castroreale has some two dozen rooms arranged around its peristyle, as well as an extensive bath suite at one corner, twice enlarged and altered. There are several floors in Italian-style black and white mosaic, all geometric apart from a fishing scene in the bath suite. The main reception/dining room, on the central axis, overlooking a fountain in the garden, had both marble and mosaic floors. These embellishments date to ca. 100–150 ce, when the villa was at the height of its prosperity. Durrueli di Realmonte is contemporary and of similar plan, with black and white mosaics in several rooms, all geometric apart from two modest figured floors in the baths, and some marble pavements as well (Polito and Tripodi 2018). Villas of the fourth century are on an altogether more luxurious scale, reflecting burgeoning prosperity in the contemporary countryside. The best known is that near Piazza

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Armerina, southeast of Enna, one of the most lavishly appointed nonimperial villas known in the Roman Empire. Built probably in a single phase ca. 320–330 ce, it covers over 1.5 hectares and included a large reception hall (aula), a vast three-apsed banqueting hall, and some forty-five other rooms arranged around two courts, as well as two sets of baths, two short aqueducts, fountains, marble statuary and a storage building 88 m long. Apart from the last, the buildings connected with farming activities are yet to be located. Nearly all the known rooms and corridors had either geometric or figured mosaics, while the aula is marble-paved; together they constitute a staggering total of 4,103  m2 of mosaic and marble flooring. The villa had close to one hundred marble columns; fifty-eight survive whole or in part. The entire ensemble gives a vivid insight into the luxurious lifestyle of a member of the aristocracy in fourth-century Sicily (Pensabene and Barresi 2019; Wilson 2018b, 202–208, 2020a). Despite numerous suggestions identifying the owner of the villa with known historical figures, none are convincing; we do not even know whether he was Sicilian or from Italy. Autobiographical aspects of the figured mosaics suggest that he held magistracies at Rome, and spent a fortune on bringing animals from the farthest parts of the empire and beyond to make his games there a triumph (if we take at face value his self-promotional propaganda). One mosaic depicts a race in the Circus Maximus won by his favored team, the Greens. The mosaics were laid by Carthaginian craftsmen operating on contract far from their home base; likely no Sicilian workshop was capable of responding to the owner’s ambitious plans, so he went overseas to fulfil his dreams for his villa’s decor. The mansion remained an elite residence until sometime after 450 ce, when an earthquake caused considerable damage, but non-elite farm buildings in and around the abandoned villa continued down into early medieval times. The modern district name (“Casale”) means “Big house.” Another ambitious contemporary villa is at Marina di Patti near Tindari on the north coast (La Torre 2018b). It boasts a large entrance court and over thirty rooms, including a three-apsed dining room opening onto an inner garden surrounded by corridors, with a detached bathhouse nearby. The mosaics are entirely geometric, except for a head of Medusa in one room and animals within panels, of mediocre standard, on the dining room floor; the Sicilian workshop responsible clearly felt uncomfortable outside its usual repertoire of geometric patterns. The absence of marble except for some statuary suggests that the owner was of only moderate wealth. The villa was destroyed in an earthquake ca. 400 ce and never rebuilt; as at Piazza Armerina, an early medieval village grew up in its ruins. A compact 60 m2 villa at Caddeddi, near Noto in southeast Sicily, perhaps built ca. 375 ce, is only partially known because a modern farmhouse lies on top (Wilson 2016). Mosaics have survived in only four rooms and a corridor, although it is likely there were more in the bath suite (not yet located) and in the now-lost rooms at second floor level, overlooking the river. The vivid polychromatic mosaics are packed with action and variety: one shows the ransom of Hector’s body, another celebrates Bacchus and the fruits of the earth, and a third shows an elaborate hunting scene with an open-air picnic under the trees. Also laid by imported African craftsmen, they bear similarities to some floors at Piazza Armerina, but are a generation later and in a different style. Again, nothing is known of the associated agricultural activities likely to have generated the wealth that created and sustained this and other elaborate elite residences. Recent excavations at Gerace, 10  km south of Enna, have thrown further light on late Roman rural vitality (Wilson 2021a). Alongside a 50-m-long granary belonging to an earlier phase, destroyed in an earthquake (in the 360s?), a compact villa of a dozen or so rooms was built in the 370s. Geometric mosaics were laid in the apsed dining room and south corridor, but the west corridor by contrast retained an earthen floor down to the end of the villa’s life ca. 500. Up the slope, a bathhouse with marble veneer on the walls and geometric mosaics on the floors was also never completely finished – one of the cold pools was never installed,



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and the decoration of its frigidarium remained incomplete (Wilson 2020b). Perhaps the owner died while construction was in progress, although both villa and baths continued to be used until 450–500 ce. Unusually, we know the name of the owner, Philippianus, from hundreds of stamped, estate-made roof tiles found in both villa and baths. Some of the stamps show racehorses with the palm and crown of victory, and considerable numbers of horse and foal bones, including an equine milk tooth, point to a stud farm being here; Philippianus may have been given his name (from Greek for “lover of horses”) by a horse-mad father. An inscription in the frigidarium, found in 2018 (Figure 11.3), reads “May the estate of the Philippiani prosper! Joy

Figure 11.3  Gerace, frigidarium of the baths, mosaic pavement, last quarter of fourth century ce, in situ; 6.25 m x 5.85 m. The three surviving monograms in the octagons read Philippiani, Asclepiades and Capitolini. The design of tangent overlapping hexagons is paralleled only on one other mosaic in the Roman Empire, at Djemila in Algeria; and the sole villa-owner to use monograms in mosaic elsewhere is at Cuevas de Soria in Spain. An inscription on all four sides of a room is unique. Also unique is the use of a square form of C (two examples in the top line) in addition to the conventional rounded one. It suggests that the mosaicist muddled his Latin and Greek – in the latter, two forms of the letter sigma, both looking exactly the same as these two Cs, were in simultaneous use. Perhaps the mosaicist (a Sicilian?) was bilingual. Source: Gerace Archaeological Project; photo by Lorenzo Zurla, Ragusa.

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to (or at) the Capitolini! May you build more, may you dedicate better things. Asclepiades, may you grow old with your family.” Asclepiades was clearly a family member, perhaps a son or son-in-law. The second acclamation may simply wish joy to an unknown family, the Capitolini, but, if the accompanying palm branch alludes to victory, it may refer to the certamina Capitolina contests in Rome, which included circus races. Sicily had a reputation in late antiquity for supplying horses to the circuses of the Roman Empire; possibly Philippianus had one such business, and his horses won in races in Rome itself.

Agriculture, Industry, and Resources Wheat and barley were Sicily’s chief agricultural products, mentioned in literary sources from Augustus to the sixth century (Soraci 2011). Grain ears accompanying the island’s symbol, the triskeles, emphasize their importance to Sicilian identity (Wilson 2000b). Identification of carbonized seeds is beginning to provide additional details. A fourth-century granary at Pietrarossa in Catania province yielded 30,000 seeds, principally durum wheat and emmer (but no barley), whereas fifth-century deposits at Gerace yielded thousands of barley seeds and hundreds of bread wheat, as well as evidence for peas, grapes, olives, almonds, chickpeas, lentils, and broad beans. In smaller samples from Agrigento, one of ca. 200 ce, the other of the fifth century, barley again outnumbered bread wheat; oats, grape, peach (or cherry), pear and carob were also present (Stellati and Fiorentino 2016). Olive trees and oak not surprisingly dominate in wood samples from Agrigento, as it was famous for its olives since Classical times, and Diodorus, himself a Sicilian, marveled at the size of the acorns in southeast Sicily (4.84.1). The timber industry was also important, especially in the Nebrodi mountains and on the slopes of Mount Etna. Wine was another major export. Ancient writers catalogued Sicilian vintages prized on the tables of Rome, including Tauromenitan and Mamertine from the Messina region and Murgentinum from central Sicily, while vinum Mesopotamium, named for a south coast settlement, is attested on stamped amphora handles at Pompeii, Carthage, and as far north as Switzerland (Wilson 1990, 191–192). Tauromenitan and other Sicilian wines reached Pompeii in considerable quantities, carried in cylindrical amphorae of types Dressel 26 and 20, as well as in Sicilian imitations of Dressel 2–4 (Peña 2007). The most distinctive Sicilian wine amphora, however, is a smaller, flat-bottomed variety with several variants, manufactured in a number of places, including the Taormina district (Naxus), the Catania region (including a site near Acireale: Amati 2008), and on the north coast of Sicily, around Capo d’Orlando and Marina di Caronía. Production started in Augustan times and continued in some areas into the late fifth century and beyond (Franco and Capelli 2014). There are other scattered sites (e.g., Agrigento, Campanaio) with evidence for more local amphora and wine production and distribution. A number of Sicilian sites have produced locally-made amphorae imitating well-known shapes, especially Dressel 2–4 and Gaulish type-4 flat-bottomed amphorae. Archaeometric analysis has shown that flat-bottomed Sicilian wine amphorae travelled considerable distances. Those from the Catania region reached Portugal and Britain as well as France, Germany, and North Africa; amphorae carrying Naxian and north Sicilian wines are attested in southern France, Spain, and Libya; and all are also found in Rome. But this was not a one-way traffic. Imported wines also reached Sicily, especially the tables of the elite: in the later Roman period, for example, containers for Gazan wine from Israel are attested at a number of coastal sites, and those bringing wine from the Greek island of Samos are known at Punta Secca and at Gerace. Olive oil is more problematic. It must have been extensively produced, at least for local needs, and scattered archaeological evidence for production has been found in Sicily, although



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only that of Malta, part of the province of Sicilia, has been systematically cataloged (Anastasi and Vella 2018). No Sicilian oil amphorae have been certainly identified. It is possible that there were local imitations of well-known imported amphora shapes, but Sicilian fabrics have yet to be recognized. Imported and presumably superior-quality oil, however, reached Sicily in vast quantities, at first from Spain (in Dressel 20 amphorae) and then from North Africa (in a wide range of cylindrical amphorae, large and small). Sicily manufactured other types of amphorae to carry different produce. A kiln complex near Alcamo Marina in western Sicily produced the wide-mouthed Dressel 21/22 type to transport fish products, of which garum is the best known (Giorgetti 2006), and another production site for the same amphora type is suspected farther east along the north coast, near Marina di Caronía or Milazzo. Though Dressel 21/22 shapes were also made elsewhere in Sicily, the products of the Alcamo kilns have been identified in Campania as well as in Rome, southern France, Egypt, the west coast of Asia Minor, and the Black Sea (Botte 2009; La Rocca and Bazzano 2018). Vats for fish salting and garum manufacture have been found at several coastal sites, especially in western and southeastern Sicily, and most recently at Milazzo on the north coast, where a 30  cm thick dump of fish residue, mainly tuna and smaller bluefish, was found (Ollà 2015, 2018). Another early imperial amphora produced in Sicily was the Richborough 527 type; its origin on the island of Lipari was established by finds of waste products there (Borgard, Brun, and Picon 2005). Probably designed to carry alum (used in the metallurgical and dyeing industries as well as in medicine), of which the Aeolian Isles were a principal producer, the amphorae were widely distributed in the western empire, especially in France and southern Britain. So far they have only occasionally been recognized in the eastern Mediterranean. Other exports from Sicily included saffron oil, listed on a wax tablet found outside Pompeii (AE 1974, 269; Pliny, Natural History 6.17 notes that the best came from Centuripe), and honey from the Hyblaean hills in the southeast, praised by Martial (e.g., Epigrams 11.42). A fragment of Roman terracotta beehive has been recognized at Naxus on the east coast. Etna lava millstones were exported to southern and central Italy as well as to Libya, Tunisia, and Spain. Pantelleria basalt was also used for mills, examples of which also reached Tunisia and Libya, and its pumice was used as an ingredient for concrete, for example in the East Baths at Leptiminus, Tunisia (Lancaster 2015, 31). Pantelleria was also the source, as noted above, of a cooking ware that enjoyed modest popularity around the western Mediterranean for several centuries. No other Sicilian-made tableware reached farther than local or regional markets during the empire. The same is true of lamps. In the first half of the second century ce, a lamp-maker who signed himself “Prok(lou) Agy(riou)” in Greek probably hailed from Agyrium in eastern Sicily. His ­products circulated quite widely in the island, but only a single example is known elsewhere, at Carthage. Where he worked is uncertain; no kilns have been located (Wilson 1990, 260–261). The industry that had produced black-gloss ware at Syracuse under the Republic ceased before the end of the first century bce, and from then on, Sicily depended almost entirely on imported fine pottery: large quantities of red sigillata from Arezzo, Pisa, and the Bay of Naples, small amounts of Eastern sigillata, Campanian orange sigillata, and South Gaulish sigillata; from the second to the seventh centuries, colossal quantities of tableware and lamps came from North Africa (Malfitana and Bonifay 2016). Evidence for Sicilian production of imitation red wares is minimal. There was a small trickle of pottery and lamps from Greece and Turkey, showing continued contacts with the eastern Mediterranean. Some glassware, like a cup of Ennion found at Solunto, may also have been imported from the East. At least one late Roman engraved glass dish came from the Rhineland, and others were imported from the Bay of Naples (Nagel 2021, nos. 89 and 173) and Rome, but most

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vessels must have come from Sicily’s local glasshouses, like the workshop of ca. 350–400 uncovered in the (presumably by then abandoned) amphitheater at Catania (Beste, Becker, and Spigo 2007, 610). One commodity in which Roman Sicily enjoyed a virtual monopoly was sulphur, used in lighting, bleaching, medicine, and various metallurgical processes. The ancient mines were mainly in Agrigento province, in use at least as late as the fourth century (Zambito 2018). The principal evidence for sulphur extraction comes from flat bricks with letters in relief and retrograde, designed to be set in a wooden form into which processed liquid sulphur was poured, transferring the stamp’s information to the resulting sulphur block. The inscriptions give names of officinae, such as Porciana, Cassiana, and that of Gellius Pelorus; others indicate freedmen operators, while some mines were under direct imperial control. One specifies that its sulphur was destined for Rome.

Aspects of Identity Language It was suggested above that Augustus may have hoped that colonial settlement would help to dilute the overwhelmingly Greek character of the province. So how “Roman” did Sicily become under the empire? Latin became the dominant language for official inscriptions in the major towns down into late antiquity, though there are exceptions: in the third or fourth century, for example, the “council and people” of Taormina, ignoring its credentials as a Roman colony, set up a Greek inscription near Rome, to a lady called Iallia Bassiana (IG 14, 1091). In late antiquity, Latin was the language of the Church, at any rate for its administration, but when a bishop of Marsala attended the Council of Chalcedon in 451 he needed a Greek interpreter. Even the increasing use of Latin in private monuments like gravestones does not necessarily mean that it was the dedicant’s preferred everyday language. Bilingualism was probably common, although now difficult to detect (Tribulato 2012, 291–369). In Messina, Claudius Theseus set up four memorials for members of his family, to his wife and one son in Latin, but to his daughter and another son in Greek; what determined those choices is of course unknown. Landowners of big estates used Latin, even when their names sound Greek: at Gerace, for example, Cylindrus, Philippianus and Asclepiades are all Greek names, but the brick- and tile-stamp and mosaic texts that name them are in Latin. True bilingual texts are rare in Sicily. The inscription in Palermo advertising stone-cutting services (AE 2014, 437; Figure 11.4) shows mistakes in both the Latin and the Greek, prompting a suggestion that the carver may have been a Punic native speaker; but maybe correct grammar was just not his or her strong point. How much Punic was still spoken in western Sicily is unknown. There are no certain Punic inscriptions nor overt signs of that culture (like the so-called Tanit symbol) after the early first century ce (Wilson 2005); yet Apuleius’ description of Sicilians in the second century ce as trilingues (presumably Greek, Latin and Punic: Metamorphoses 11.5) deserves to be taken at face value: in rural North Africa, for example, Punic was still being spoken for centuries after the last Punic inscriptions were erected. The pattern of Greek or Latin language use in Sicily’s major cities is likely to have fluctuated, and it also varied between one part of the island and another. Approximately two thousand inscriptions on stone between Augustan and early Byzantine times survive, about half in Latin and half in Greek. Funerary texts (which constitute 70 percent of the total) divide 60 percent Greek and 40 percent Latin, with Greek greatly outnumbering Latin in Syracuse (where 90 percent of catacomb inscriptions are in Greek), the opposite being the case in Termini Imerese and Palermo; in Catania and Messina the split is roughly half and half (Prag 2002 and pers.



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Figure 11.4  Unknown provenance (probably Palermo), workshop sign in white marble, 24.5 cm x 15.5 cm (Museo Archeologico Regionale, Palermo); ISic 0470. The bilingual inscription here, in Greek and Latin, can be translated as: “Inscriptions laid out and cut here for religious shrines and public works.” Mistakes and infelicities include the use of sun rather than kai (“and”) and energeiai rather than erga (“works”) in the penultimate line of the Greek version, and cum with the genitive rather than the ablative case in the same line in the Latin. Photo by Roger J.A. Wilson.

comm.). Such major harbor cities were likely to have had a heterogeneous population, with many non-Sicilians present: inscriptions at Messina, for example, document a Cretan, a Corinthian, a Cyzican, an Apamean (from which Apamea is unknown) and a Syrian. How long Greek-style institutions continued into the empire is uncertain. During Tiberius’ reign Malta, presumably a municipium, still had a protos Melitaion, “first man of the people of Malta,” L. Castricius Pudens, who was also archon (the equivalent of duumvir?) and amphipolos of the imperial cult (IG 14, 601). Much later, in the fourth century, an agonothetes, a presenter of Greek-style games, is attested in Catania (IG 14, 502). A Greek inscription of 2 bce–14 ce at the Agrigento gymnasium documents new seats installed alongside a running track by a gymnasiarches; also named are the presiding duoviri, one of them also a flamen (priest) in the new imperial cult (SEG 59.1096). Thus even a municipium like Agrigento continued to use Greek in its inscriptions, merely transliterating the Latin titles of officials and magistrates. The gymnasium apparently remained in use into the third century ce (Fiorentini 2011, 85).

Material Culture In architecture, the building techniques of the Italian peninsula made a huge impact on Sicily, with local versions of concrete construction employed for large-scale projects such as theaters and amphitheaters in major towns like Taormina, Catania, Termini Imerese, and to a lesser

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extent Syracuse (Buscemi 2012). Only Taormina embraced kiln-fired brick for facing concrete in the style ubiquitous in the peninsula, but local bricks were much thicker than their Italian counterparts, perhaps influenced by the dimensions of their mudbrick predecessors. In other places, such as Agrigento, Tindari, and Marsala, traditional Greek-style ashlar building continued in fashion down into late antiquity. One example is the ambitious propylon to the Forum of Tindari (the “Basilica” already mentioned), not earlier than 425 ce, an idiosyncratic building with no true parallels anywhere. Architectural conservatism is also shown by continued use of Greek units of measurement in some places as late as the fourth century ce, such as the Samian foot (34.8 cm) at Gerace, and the Olympian foot (32 cm) at Caddeddi; but the Roman foot of 29.6 cm was probably the standard in most places. Occasional use of opus reticulatum, as in an early phase of the Syracuse amphitheater, suggests the presence of Italian building gangs on some projects; while opus Africanum (coursed walling between orthostats at intervals) at Marsala is either imitated from North Africa, or a heritage from its own Punic past. African influence is also seen in the use of terracotta tubes in vaulting at ­several Sicilian sites from the second century ce onward (Lancaster 2015, 99–128). Visual culture was also dominated by the influence of Italy. Many high-quality marble items, both in relief and in the round, have been found in Sicily, but how many were produced locally, and how many imported from Italy or even the Greek East? Take the three marble busts of Julius Caesar, Antonia Minor, and Titus, found at the bottom of two cisterns on the Pantelleria acropolis in 2003, presumably thrown there from a nearby shrine of the imperial cult. Their high quality suggests that they were almost certainly made in a workshop in Rome (Schäfer, Schmidt, and Osanna 2015, 761). That is not to say that there were no local sculptors. Many local magistrates were honored with statues, or chose to have portraits created for their country villas, and they are hardly likely to have travelled far to sit for such commissions; local sculptors, some of high quality, must have been able to fulfil them. A superb bearded portrait of one such villa owner of ca. 150 ce, from near Partinico in western Sicily, shows that not all Sicilian marble sculpture of the imperial period was mediocre (Bonacasa 1964, no. 109). There were also outstanding works in bronze, such as the recumbent ram, originally one of a pair, from Syracuse (Figure 11.5). Though long considered Hellenistic, the latest research has dated it to the late first to early second century ce (Villa and Carruba 2009). The crescent depression for the eye pupils also occasionally occurs, however, in Augustan and JulioClaudian work. That contemporary Syracusan bronzeworkers enjoyed a reputation far afield is shown by their commission to make the bronze capitals in a prestige project of Augustan Rome, Agrippa’s Pantheon (Pliny, Natural History 34.13), so the ram may also testify to the technical skill and bravura of a master smith in early imperial Syracuse (Wilson 1990, 343–346). Yet overall, a good deal of Roman sculpture found on the island was not made there. Figured sarcophagi are a case in point. The great majority came from Italian workshops, including those of Rome, such as the magnificent fourth-century Proconnesian marble “doubledecker” sarcophagus from a catacomb at Syracuse, decorated with biblical scenes. There are also a few sarcophagi from Asia Minor (the Sidamara type) and from Attica, including the high-quality Hippolytus and Phaedra sarcophagus in Agrigento. Only a minority of sarcophagi can be ascribed to Sicilian workshops, either because they are obvious provincial copies of known Italian models or because they chose unusual subject matter, like Polyphemus and Ulysses (a scene of local relevance) on a relief from Catania, or Icarus, on an example at Messina (Tusa 1995). Mosaic workshops were also dominated by outside influences (von Boeselager 1983). Figured and geometric pavements of the first and second centuries ce are mostly in the black-and-white tradition of mainland Italy. While some are competent (like the fishing scene in the Castroreale villa), others are poorly drawn, such as the floors in a small



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Figure 11.5  Syracuse, bronze ram, first century ce (Augustan?); 1.29 m long, 0.78 m high (Museo Archeologico Regionale, Palermo). It is one of a pair, first recorded as being placed by the Emperor Frederick II between 1240 and 1250 outside the main gate of the Castello Maniace at Syracuse. Its twin was destroyed by a cannon ball in 1848. Source: Archivio Fotografico Museo Archeologico Regionale Antonino Salinas, courtesy of Dr. Francesca Spatafora.

bathhouse of ca. 200 ce in Tindari, signed in Greek by Neikias, slave of Dionysios. Before the end of the second century, however, the influence of North Africa was growing, with the introduction of new and more ambitious polychrome geometric mosaics. Some, such as a floral pavement from Marsala now in Palermo, are so close to their African counterparts (in this case at Carthage) that one suspects the presence of an African mosaicist in Sicily. That is very likely too, as mentioned above, for the ambitious programs at Piazza Armerina and Caddeddi in the fourth century, which must have been exceptional commissions. The influence of the African style on individual motifs and pavement designs, circulating through copybooks, is also seen frequently throughout Sicily. When Sicilian mosaicists stuck to geometric compositions, they were capable of achieving good results (Figure 11.3), but their attempts at figured work were sometimes abysmal, as in the triclinium of the Patti villa, or in the Labors of Hercules mosaic in baths near Acrae (Guzzardi 2014, 33–36). Sicilian schools of mosaic and sculpture did not generally produce works of striking originality or vitality, but some craftsmen operating in those media were capable of highly competent work. Sicilia under the empire displays, therefore, a complex and eclectic cultural identity (Wilson 2021b). On the substantially Greek character of the island at the end of the Republic, the impact made by Latin and by Roman culture in general was substantial, but Africa and the East also had parts to play in forging the province’s social and cultural makeup. The ingredients of this mix varied in different parts of the island, and the countryside as everywhere was more conservative than the towns. But no distinctive “Romano-Sicilian” identity ever emerged, and the strong undercurrent of Sicily’s Greek heritage was never far away. Parts of rural Sicily, especially in the east, remained essentially Greek at heart down into late antiquity.

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Biographical Note Professor R.J.A. Wilson is Professor and Director of the Centre for the Study of Ancient Sicily at the University of British Columbia and a Fellow of the Royal Society of Canada. He has won the UBC Killam Prize for Research (2012) and been Visiting Professor at McMaster University, Balsdon Fellow at the British School at Rome, Guest Scholar at the Getty Villa, Malibu, Byvank Lecturer in Archaeology at Leiden, and Dalrymple Lecturer at Glasgow.

Abbreviations AE = L’Année Épigraphique. 1888–. Edited by René Cagnat et al. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. CIL = Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum. 1823–. Edited by Deutsche Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin. Paris: A. Franck. ISic = Inscriptiones Siciliae. 2014–. Edited by Jonathan Prag et al. http://sicily.classics.ox.ac.uk/. SEG = Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum. 1923–. Edited by J. J. E. Hondius et al. Leiden: Brill.

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Entwicklung/La Sicilia Romana. Città e territorio tra monumentalizzazione ed economia, crisi e sviluppo/ Roman Sicily. Cities and Territories between Monumentalization and Economy, Crisis and Development, edited by Oscar Belvedere and Johannes Bergman, 369–386. Palermo: Palermo University Press. Tusa, Sebastiano, Stefano Zangara, and Roberto La Rocca, eds. 2009. Il relitto tardo-antico di Scauri a Pantelleria. Palermo: Regione Siciliana. Tusa, Vincenzo. 1995. I sarcofagi romani in Sicilia. Rome: L’Erma di Bretschneider. Uggeri, Giovanni. 2004. La viabilità della Sicilia in età romana. Galatina: Mario Congedo. Villa, Agata, and Anna Maria Carruba. 2009. “Storia e tecnica dell’Ariete bronzeo di Palermo.” Boreas, 32: 93–114. Von Boeselager, Dela. 1983. Antike Mosaiken in Sizilien. Hellenismus und römische Kaiserzeit, 3. Jh. v. Chr.– 3 Jh. n. Chr. Rome: Giorgio Bretschneider. Wilson, Roger J. A. 1990. Sicily under the Roman Empire. The Archaeology of a Roman Province 36 BC–AD 535. Warminster: Aris and Phillips. Wilson, Roger J. A. 1996. “Rural Life in Roman Sicily. Excavations at Castagna and Campanaio.” In From River Trent to Raqqa. Nottingham University Archaeological Fieldwork in Britain, Europe and the Middle East, 1991–1995, edited by Roger J. A. Wilson, 24–41. Nottingham: University of Nottingham, Department of Archaeology. Wilson, Roger J. A. 2000a. “Rural Settlement in Hellenistic and Roman Sicily: Excavations at Campanaio (AG), 1994–1998.” Papers of the British School at Rome, 68: 337–369. Wilson, Roger J. A. 2000b. “On the Trail of the Triskeles from the McDonald Institute to Archaic Greek Sicily.” Cambridge Archaeological Journal, 10: 35–61. Wilson, Roger J. A. 2005. “La sopravvivenza di cultura punica nella Sicilia Romana.” In Atti del V congresso internazionale di studi fenici e punici, Marsala–Palermo, 2–8 ottobre 2000, edited by Antonella Spanò Giamellaro, 907–917. Palermo: Università degli Studi di Palermo, Facoltà di Lettere e Filosofia. Wilson, Roger J. A. 2013a. “Hellenistic Sicily, c. 270–100 bc.” In The Hellenistic West. Rethinking the Ancient Mediterranean, edited by Jonathan R. W. Prag and Josephine Crawley Quinn, 79–119. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wilson, Roger J. A. 2013b. “Becoming Roman Overseas? Sicily and Sardinia in the Later Roman Republic.” In A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Republic, edited by Jane DeRose Evans, 485–504. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell. Wilson, Roger J. A. 2016. Caddeddi on the Tellaro. A Late Roman Villa in Sicily and Its Mosaics. Bulletin Antieke Beschaving Supplement 28. Leuven: Peeters. Wilson, Roger J. A. 2017. Dining with the Dead in Early Byzantine Sicily. Excavations at Punta Secca near Ragusa. The Eleventh BABESCH Byvanck Lecture. Leiden: BABESCH Foundation. Wilson, Roger J. A. 2018a. “Archaeology and Earthquakes in Late Roman Sicily. Unpacking the Myth of the terrae motus per totum orbem of AD 365.” In À Madeleine Cavalier. Collection du Centre Jean Bérard 49, edited by Maria Bernabò Brea, Massimo Cultraro, Michel Gras, Maria Clara Martinelli, Claude Pouzadoux, and Umberto Spigo, 421–430. Naples: Centre Jean Bérard. Wilson, Roger J. A. 2018b. “Roman Villas in Sicily.” In The Roman Villa in the Mediterranean Basin: Late Republic to Late Antiquity, edited by Annalisa Marzano and Guy Métraux, 195–219. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wilson, Roger J. A. 2020a. Review of B. Steger, Piazza Armerina. La villa romaine du Casale en Sicile. Paris: Éditions Picard 2017, Bryn Mawr Classical Review 2020.03.17. Wilson, Roger J. A. 2020b. “The Baths on the Estate of the Philippiani at Gerace in Sicily.” American Journal of Archaeology, 124: 477–510. Wilson, Roger J. A. 2021a. “The praedia Philippianorum: A Late Roman Estate at Gerace Near Enna.” In Trinacria. “An Island outside Time.” International Archaeology in Sicily, edited by Christopher Prescott, Arja Karivieri, Peter Campbell, Kristian Göransson, and Sebastiano Tusa, 19–32. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Wilson, Roger J. A. 2021b. “Aspects of Identity: Provincia Sicilia during the Roman Empire.” In Romanization/Globalization/Colonization in the Roman World, edited by Oscar Belvedere and Johannes Bergemann, 301–324. Palermo: Palermo University Press. Zambito, Luca. 2018. La produzione di zolfo in Sicilia in età romana. Alessandria: Edizioni dell’Orso.

CHAPTER 12

Raetia Günther Moosbauer Translated by H.N. Parker

Rome’s Arrival, Occupation, and Provincialization of Raetia When the late La Tène period in southern Germany ended is a matter of debate. The oppida civilization had been characterized by large central settlements with far-reaching long-distance trade contact to the Mediterranean, and square enclosures (Viereckschanzen) in the rural areas. The situation after the end of the oppida culture, before the middle of the first century bce, largely eludes our knowledge. Using diagnostic ceramics, Rieckhoff (1995) was able to work out a particular Late La Tène culture, the “Southeast Bavarian group,” for large parts of the later province of Raetia, but it ended long before the Roman occupation. In the Alps and their foothills, population continuity from the Late La Tène period to Roman times seems to be indicated by new chronological findings based on small finds, the Augustan military posts (stationes), burnt offering sites, and the neighboring settlements of Stöffling (Late La Tène) and Bedaium, modern Seebruck, in Noricum, which underwent a parallel transitional phase (Figure 12.1). The east of the province, however, still lacks significant sources (Zanier 2004, 237–264). Hüssen (2004, 73–91) connected the southeast Bavarian group with findings from the late La Tène period in Bavarian Swabia, where a Celtic-Germanic contact zone going back to the early Augustan period is traceable through ceramics. Wieland had similar results for the upper Danube region, where forms and decorations based on La Tène D1 could still be found on Roman utilitarian ceramics (Wieland 2004, 113–122). For the first time, there is reliable archaeological evidence for the Alpine campaigns of Tiberius and Drusus in the summer of 15 bce at Döttenbichl near Oberammergau (Zanier 2016). At that site, a sacrificial area for the local population was attacked with catapults during the conflict; Roman soldiers’ equipment was also dumped there. The Döttenbichl site lies

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 1, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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Figure 12.1  The Rhine and Danube Areas from Augustan to Tiberian times. Adapted by John Wallrodt from map by Günther Moosbauer, Gäubodenmuseum, Straubing.



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on the route over the Brenner or the Reschen passes into the foothills of the Raetian Alps, which the Via Claudia Augusta was to follow as the main road a few decades later (Zanier 2006, 24–35). From northern Italy to Raetia, the Bündner passes, especially San Bernadino, Splügen, and the Septimer, were also important. Finds in the Crap Ses Gorge in the canton of Graubünden in Switzerland indicate battles during the Alpine campaigns. A 1.3 hectare military camp was set up on the Septimer Pass to control the crossing. Based on coin discoveries, it seems to have been laid out in 16 bce in preparation for the Alpine campaigns (Zanier 2006, 89–97). The connection between the Bündner passes and northwestern Switzerland in the Walensee region was secured by three watchtowers (Zanier 2006, 102–119). The Tropaeum Alpium in La Turbie, France, still bears witness to the Alpine campaigns. In a fragmentary inscription (CIL V 7817), which was also commemorated in literature (Pliny the Elder, Natural History 3.136–137), almost 50 defeated tribes were mentioned, among them many civitates of Raetia: Isarci, Breuni, Caenaunes, Focunates (of the upper Inntal), Vindelicorum gentes quattuor, Cosuanetes, Runicates, Licates, Catenates (of the SwabianBavarian Alpine foothills), Rigusci, Suanetes, Calucones, Brixenetes (of the Alpine Rhine Valley with Engadin), Leponti (Ticino and Valle Mesolcina), Uberi, Nantuates, Seduni, Varagri (Valais), and Acitavones (Little St. Bernhard). These civitates were important for the administrative structure of the later province of Raetia. The earliest settlements in the province of Raetia lie along the aforementioned deployment routes or at their endpoints (Moosbauer 2021, with literature). One of the most important Augustan archaeological sites in the Bavarian Alpine foothills is Augsburg-Oberhausen, which was able to accommodate parts of a legion and perhaps auxiliary troops. From this base, which served as a supply depot, the infrastructure in the Alpine foothills could be expanded, and, most importantly, the troops necessary for securing it could be supplied. Early in the reign of Tiberius, a severe flood disaster, the only evidence of which are finds from gravel in the Lech River, meant the end of this system. In addition, there is a small amount of evidence of another Augustan military camp in Augsburg, documented by small sections of a trench in Volkhartstrasse 18a. A small guard post from the late Augustan/ early Tiberian period was uncovered east of the Augsburg cathedral, securing the area to the south. In Göggingen, south of Augsburg, lay a settlement established around this time and abandoned in the middle of the first century: post-built houses, wells, and agricultural equipment indicate its rural character. It relates perhaps to the two late-Augustan/early-Tiberian military camps at Friedberg-Rederzhausen on the eastern side of the Lech, which are probably connected to the expansion of the road between Augsburg and Gauting. A further small military station of the Augustan age was located about 60 km up the Lech, on the Lorenzberg near Epfach; it can be presumed to have had a sixty- to eighty-man garrison. At Bregenz, two huge V-sided trenches (fossa fastigata) and soldiers’ equipment were documented a few years ago on the site of the former Böckle Hospital (Böckle-areal), pointing to a military presence there from the first decade of the first century bce on. As supply stations for small military contingents, the Lorenzberg and Bregenz controlled points of traffic congestion. Single finds from Hechendorf Murnau, Andechs, Gauting, and Eching indicate other Augustan sites not clearly used for military purposes. In eastern Raetia, no finds or sites are known from Straubing for this period, except for a helmet of the Mannheim type, as worn by soldiers in Caesar’s army. This helmet is a relic, as is a so-called Arretine relief chalice of the Haltern 18 type from Regensburg-Kumpfmühl, which must have been made in the Tiberian era. On the other hand, numismatic and epigraphic evidence, as well as small finds, suggest a foundation date in the first decade bce for Kempten, though large-scale buildings come later. It need not have been a military facility, but was likely a meeting place for local tribes, where they expressed their loyalty to the Roman imperial house. This is supported by an inscription for the grandson of the emperor,

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Lucius Caesar, who died in 2 ce and was frequently honored in the Roman Empire. A similar inscription is known from Chur, although its archaeological material does not date before the late Augustan to early Tiberian era. In any case, a meeting place at Chur analogous to that at Kempten can be assumed in Augustan times as well (Zanier 2006, 91–99). At that time, Raetia was still largely under military administration. The area became a province in Tiberian times; this is supported by a passage in Velleius Paterculus (2.39.3; Dietz in RiB, 70). The province extended from the Ticino Alps via Graubünden and part of North Tyrol to the Alpine foothills between the Danube and Inn rivers. On the evidence of a military camp in the old town of Augsburg (subsequent to the one at Augsburg-Oberhausen), the provincial governor does not appear to have had his official residence there (Bakker in RiB 419–425). On the other hand, there are increasing signs that Kempten could have served as an administrative center, as wooden buildings of the Tiberian era show its development as a town (Weber 2001, 15–48). In the second decade ce, the important settlement of Auerberg in Epfach was built. Occupied only briefly to about 40 ce, its metal workshops produced weapons, including fittings for the ballistas needed in the aforementioned camps on the Lech (Ulbert 2006). Archaeobotanical investigations at the foot of the Auerberg rule out intensive agriculture there, although many grain residues and exotic spices have been found on the mountain itself (Küster 1988). This individual example makes it clear that the early settlements could not yet be supplied from a rural hinterland, but were presumably dependent on food imports from Italy.

First Military Installations on the Danube and Their Supply Military camps to fortify the border on the Danube were only built in late Tiberian to Claudian times: Hüfingen and Tuttlingen (inferred from finds) in Upper Germania; Mengen-Ennetach, Emerkingen, Rißtissen, Unterkirchberg, Aislingen, and Burghöfe at the confluence of the Lech and Danube; and the small forts of Burlafingen, Nersingen, Günzburg, and Neuburg an der Donau (Moosbauer 2021 with bibliography) (Figure 12.2). By the 40s ce, the Upper Danube was thus secured by a chain of forts, with their supply base, Oberstimm near Ingolstadt, being of particular importance to the system (Moosbauer 2021). Until 1992, almost nothing was known about the first expansion of the limes between Oberstimm and Linz, which was already Noric. Only individual potsherds at different fort locations supported the assumption that there were already Roman stations in ClaudianNeronian times. That changed with the discovery of small military installations in OsterhofenHaardorf and Weltenburg-Galget. There are good reasons for supposing other posts at Oberpöring, Straubing, and Passau. Weltenburg-Frauenberg and Regensburg, on the other hand, remain controversial. Presumably, there were only smaller forts downstream of Oberstimm, as the OsterhofenHaardorf complex shows: the camp, ca. 55 × 55 m, offered space for a garrison of perhaps twenty to thirty men. Such small camps could not have been intended against an external enemy because of the small number of troops, but rather served to monitor the Danube and to quarter the crews of the boats that patrolled it. The Haardorf site’s palisade was a wood and earth construction, and it had two, later three, fossae in front of it in two different phases. According to the finds, the complex existed from the Claudian to the early Flavian period. The camp had to be supplied with food largely via the Danube, as the rural settlement of eastern Raetia only began later, but there was also a high proportion of game among the animal bones. One can therefore conclude that the area was forested at this time. This evidence shows that Rome’s primary focus was on securing the Danube as a vital trade route between regions, which also played a central role in the development of east Raetia.



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Figure 12.2  The militarized zone of Raetia from late Tiberian to Neronian times. Adapted by John Wallrodt from map by Günther Moosbauer, Gäubodenmuseum, Straubing.

The Isar, a tributary of the Danube, also seems to have been used as a trade route, playing a not insignificant role in regional development. An early imperial site on the Isar was documented for the first time at Oberpöring, near where the Isar joins the Danube, through an aerial photo of double fossae, and metal finds, including eye brooches and an ornate hinged brooch; but unfortunately, there are still no reliable finds from this period up to the Munich gravel plain (Moosbauer 2021). The Oberpöring site had a Tiberian manor: its post holes in wall trenches in the area of the main building, as well as finds, point to a provincial Roman building tradition. The storage facility with drainage ditch and other outbuildings, however, are still in local Celtic tradition, and cannot be as clearly dated. In the Tiberian-Claudian period, inhumations of the Heimstetten type have been found in the Bavarian Alpine foothills. Though no settlements can as yet be clearly assigned to this group, they point to a settlement pattern that could be linked to cultivation of the land (as at Eching mentioned above), which can perhaps be put in this context for chronological reasons. The camps downstream of the mouth of the Isar were perhaps supplied by rural settlement systems such as these, though they have only been definitively located in the vicinity of Ingolstadt (Hüssen 2004, 73–91). Near Ingolstadt, to the west of Manching, excavations revealed five timber-built estates of the early imperial period, which lined up at intervals of less than a kilometer along the Roman military road on the south bank of the Danube (Donausüdstrasse). There were similar estates found at the nearby villages of Manching and Rockolding on the Ilm. This settlement pattern began at about the same time as the construction of the first forts on the upper Danube. The Roman settlement of Weichering near Neuburg on the Danube can also be placed in this context, though its function has not been clarified; the importance of the supply base in Oberstimm has already been mentioned.

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In the vicinity of Augsburg, Schwabmünchen is now emerging as a larger civil settlement in the manner of sites of Bregenz and Kempten, mentioned above; in the Tiberian-Claudian period, they already had a strong urban character, while Schwabmünchen was a pottery production site. In Pfaffenhofen near Rosenheim, the ancient Pons Aeni, a roadhouse (mansio) with a settlement, is likely to have been built as early as the middle of the first century ce, as this was an important crossing of the River Inn, which was also the border between Raetia and Noricum (Moosbauer 2021). Noricum comprised the Eastern Alps and developed from the confederation of Celtic tribes known as the Regnum Noricum until the Claudian period; a number of municipalities were already founded there during the Claudian period, including Virunum near Maria Saal, Celeia (Celje in Slovenia), Teurnia near Spittal, Aguntum near Lienz, Iuvavum (Salzburg) and Flavia Solva, a Flavian municipium near Leibnitz (Gassner, Jilek, and Ladstätter 2002, 78–81, 106–117).

Civil War after the Death of Nero After the death of Nero in 68 ce, and in the turmoil of the Year of the Four Emperors that followed, Raetia was also disturbed by conflicts. The armies of the Rhine rose up against the emperor Servius Sulpicius Galba in the first days of 69 ce and proclaimed their commander Aulus Vitellius emperor. Meanwhile in Rome, Marcus Salvius Otho, with the support of the Praetorian Guard, had Galba killed and replaced him. Vitellius went with his army to Italy to secure the imperial title; he may have been joined by Raetian units. At the first Battle of Bedriacum near Cremona, Vitellius gained the upper hand over Otho, who then stabbed himself. In the East of the empire, however, there was considerable opposition to Vitellius; a new and powerful opponent arose against him, Titus Flavius Vespasianus, who was leading Rome’s troops in the First Judaean Revolt, and was soon proclaimed emperor in Egypt. The Norican troops, who had originally been on Otho’s side, after his death followed Vespasian, who was also able to win over the Pannonian units. So Raetian and Norican troops confronted each other across the River Inn, and it was only at the end of 69 ce, after the victory of the Flavians over Vitellius, that the Norican units and/or the allied Flavian troops must have broken through the Raetian positions in the direction of the Rhine, so that the Rhineland fell into their hands in 70 ce. Destruction layers that can be associated with these events are found in individual Danube forts, including (from west to east) Hüfingen (uncertain), Rißtissen, Unterkirchberg, Aislingen, and Burghöfe, as well as in the cities of Bregenz, Augsburg, and Kempten. A  short-term abandonment of the Oberstimm supply base also belongs to this period. Evidence from aerial archaeology of a camp on the Norican shore near Pfaffenhofen (Pons Aeni, above) suggests that the site may be associated with the massing of troops on the Inn in 69 ce (Dietz in RiB 94–99).

Raetia under the Flavians Under the Flavians, a systematic reconstruction and expansion of military facilities in the province of Raetia (with the exception of Aislingen, which was moved; see below) took place (Moosbauer 2021) (Figure 12.3). The civilian settlements were also upgraded: Kempten (ancient Cambodunum), which may have been headquarters of the governor of Raetia, was splendidly rebuilt in stone as a Roman city (Weber in RiB 463–468).



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Figure 12.3  The militarized zone of Germania Superior and Raetia from late Flavian to Trajanic times. Adapted by John Wallrodt from map by Günther Moosbauer, Gäubodenmuseum, Straubing.

In Flavian times, the Agri Decumates to the north of Raetia and the German provinces were absorbed into Rome’s defenses, to form the shortest connection between the Upper Danube and the High Rhine via Rottweil; so military installations in the upper Danube as far as the fort at Burghöfe were all abandoned from late Flavian times (i.e., the reign of Domitian) until the Trajanic period. Troops were stationed at the upper Neckar, and the Kinzig Valley road from Strasbourg to Tuttlingen on the Danube was extended into the Black Forest (Franke 2003, 149–156). Roman troops could be found along this road on the plateau of the Swabian Alb, in the forts of Ebingen-Lautlingen in Germania Superior (occupied only briefly for road construction), and Burladingen in Raetia, for the first time at the end of the 70s. Nevertheless, older military camps on the Danube were rebuilt and expanded in the early Flavian period, as they played an important role in building up the administrative structures of the still-young province: construction projects are archaeologically attested for Hüfingen, Rißtissen, Unterkirchberg, and Burghöfe. The camp at Aislingen was abandoned and a new one built at Günzburg, located at the confluence of the Günz and Danube among important river crossings. A new camp was also built in Burgheim, shortening the gap between Burghöfe and Oberstimm and with a view toward the nearby Danube crossing at Stepperg, showing the strategic importance of the location. After Domitian, Oberstimm again became the most important supply base for the new camps built under Vespasian down the Danube and for northern Kösching; there were also large storage buildings and landing facilities for ships in the back waters of the Brautlach. At Straubing, a military river port with piers was built for logistically necessary supply transport; it was maintained in this form until the first extensive land development at the beginning of the second century ce, and though the piers subsequently fell into disrepair, the docks continued to be used and the port was kept open until Carolingian times. Basilical structures found near Moos-Burgstall (Aholming-Tannet), though undated, could be attributed to the time from Domitian to Trajan, and be interpreted as granaries (horrea).

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The first large East Raetia cohort forts were built in Eining on the Danube, RegensburgKumpfmühl, and Straubing (the Westkastell). In Passau, there was also a smaller camp at the tip of the headland between the Danube and the Inn. A glance at the topography of Regensburg, Straubing, and Passau shows they are all in an area of transportation nodes into the Germanic “Barbaricum”: at Regensburg, the Naab and Regen flow into the Danube, Straubing lies at the starting point of the route through the Kinsachtal to Stallwang and over the Cham-Furth Depression into Bohemia, and in Passau, the “City of Three Rivers,” the Inn and Ilz flow into the Danube. The Ilz estuary is the starting point for trails used especially from the High Middle Ages via Waldkirchen and Grainet to Bohemia (Moosbauer 2021). Military security did not end with these construction projects, however. In East Raetia, Passau (Altstadt) was possibly enlarged, and a late Domitianic fort built at Moos-Burgstall, in the area of the intersection of the military road on the south bank of the Danube (Donausüdstrasse) and that through the Isar Valley (Moosbauer 2015). Straubing was greatly strengthened by the construction of another camp (Ostkastell), intended for a unit of 1,000 men. Combined with the Westkastell and the port, Straubing seems to have become an important military command center, which existed in this form until the end of the second century ce (Fischer 2015). Perhaps the construction of another fort in Regensburg, the Donaukastell, also belongs to this period (Moosbauer 2021). East of Regensburg and north of the Danube, sites like the forts of Kosching and Nassenfels seem to have been built in the Flavian period and later (Hüssen 2009). This shows that in western Raetia the regions north of the Danube were at least moving into the Roman purview, and the first bridgeheads for the expansion of the province were being built at that time. The expansion of the number of camps was accompanied by the expansion of the road system meant to connect them: no later than this, the Donausüdstraße was extended to the border of the province, a road was built along the Isar Valley, and a trail was laid along the River Inn, with important roadside settlements or manufacturing sites beside it, including the earlier settlement “Sollerholz,” already founded close to a river crossing or road junction near Töging in Noricum, and Pocking, a pottery center with important metal workshops (Donaubauer 1989). There is also evidence for metal workshops at Gauting, located on the important road from Bregenz via Kempten and Epfach to Salzburg (Kellner in RiB 447–448). The environment of the early sites was slowly being expanded by rural settlements built at this time, some as specialized as the brickworks near Westheim at Augsburg, which belonged to the Roman emperor, as a brickstamp found there read F(iglinae) C(aesaris) N(ostri) (Czysz in RiB 538).

The Period of Prosperity under Trajan and Hadrian In the late Trajanic to early Hadrianic period, some modifications were made to the border in East Raetia (see Figure 12.3). The camp at Moos-Burgstall was abandoned, replaced by a new one built by the same troop, the cohors III Thracum civium Romanorum, a few kilometers east, at the transition from the Gäuboden to the Danube Gorge near Passau (Moosbauer 2015). At about the same time, the small (just under 0.4 ha) fort of Steinkirchen was built to the west, in the direction of Straubing; it could accommodate up to two centuries (Moosbauer 2015, with literature). The forts at Pfatter and Alkofen were about the same size, from which it can be assumed that they were built around the same time (Moosbauer 2021, with literature). This shortened the travel between the larger cohort camps of Straubing and Regensburg as well as between Regensburg and Eining. In particular, the places where military cohorts were located may have provided vexillations that served nearby. Though generally we do not know the individual units stationed in these small camps, toward the end of this period or a little bit later, a special unit, the



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cohors I Flavia Canathenorum ∞ [milliaria] sagittariorum, arrived in Straubing. It was a thousand-strong, partially mounted unit of Syrian archers, which had originally been recruited in the Hauran, where Canatha was among the northernmost cities of the Decapolis. New construction on the Ostkastell at Straubing accompanied the unit’s move there (Fischer 2015). During this period, settlement increased in the hinterland of the forts of East Raetia. The rural area was being massively expanded with large estates, and consumer products instead of foodstuffs were finding their way down the Danube. These included ceramics, many from the pottery manufacturing center of Schwabmünchen, which was experiencing its greatest boom (Moosbauer 2003, 267–278). At this time the border upriver from Regensburg gradually ran north across the Danube, with Rome occupying the middle Neckarland. As in the case of the earlier fort at Burladingen, a road from Köngen to Raetia connected the newly created camps, Gomadingen and Donnstetten, where the troops advanced on the plateau of the Swabian Alb and soon occupied the Nördlinger Ries, a large asteroid impact crater endowed with fertile loess soil. The border was secured by the forts of Urspring and Heidenheim with the ala II Flavia milliaria (Sommer 2011, 152). Their establishment came with a settlement of their hinterland (Pfahl 1999, 83). From Heidenheim a road led to Faimingen, which controlled a nearby road junction at a crossing of the Danube, and from there a new road was also built north of the Danube. Alae were stationed in a newly established camp at Weißenburg and in Kösching. Kösching and Nassenfels had been built just north of the Danube before the camp at Weißenburg; an important late Trajanic to early Hadrianic road branched off from Kösching towards Weißenburg via the fort in Pfünz. Elllingen and Ruffenhofen may have been laid out that late as well. In the Trajanic period, a connection was also established between Weißenburg and Heidenheim: a route led from Oberdorf on the Ipf River to Munningen and Gnotzheim in the Nördlinger Ries. It must be assumed that at the beginning these camps controlled areas rather than border lines. Hüssen (2009) considered the lines of force to run from Unterkirchberg to Urspring, Günzburg, to Heidenheim, Burghöfe, in the direction of Munningen and Ruffenhofen, Nassenfels, in the direction of Weißenburg, Oberstimm to Kösching, and Eining to Pförring. Once Rome’s direct sphere of control extended across the Danube, the large military camp at Augsburg could be abandoned, but the city itself, Augusta Vindelicum, was made the municipium Aelium Augustum under Hadrian, gaining a new city wall and replacing Kempten as the capital of the province of Raetia (Bakker in RiB 419–425).

Border Fortification under Antoninus Pius With the accession of Antoninus Pius as emperor, the Raetian border was strengthened (Figure 12.4). For the first time, the border line was secured by wooden watchtowers surrounded by trenches (Sommer 2011, 157–160), while many forts were built in stone. There are building inscriptions for Gnotzheim, Kösching, Pförring, and Pfünz (Sommer 2011, 157). Regensburg-Kumpfmühl might already have been expanded under Hadrian; there are no clear archaeological findings for Eining. The two forts at Straubing and the East Fort at Künzing were built in stone in the Antonine period. At Passau, a new fort was built on the Domberg, since another unit was already stationed there (Moosbauer 2021, with literature). An extension of the Alb limes seems to have been planned at the end of Antoninus’ reign, i.e. the Upper Germanic-Raetian limes got its final appearance then or shortly after the accession of Marcus Aurelius. Dendrochronology indicates that Schirenhof, Unterböbingen, Aalen, Buch, and Halheim were built around 160 ce or shortly thereafter, while finds point to a start around this time for Gunzenhausen and Böhming.

Figure 12.4  The militarized zone of Germania Superior and Raetia in Antonine times. Adapted by John Wallrodt from map by Günther Moosbauer, Gäubodenmuseum, Straubing.



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The Marcomannic Wars At the very beginning of the Marcomannic Wars (Moosbauer 2018, 14–41), an invasion struck East Raetia (Figure 12.5). The fort at Regensburg-Kumpfmühl and the Westkastell at Straubing were both destroyed. Then the forces of the confederate tribes headed toward the Munich gravel plain and hit Gauting (ancient Bratananium). Iuvavum in Noricum (modern Salzburg) was also affected, though it is not possible to say with certainty if the invasion from Regensburg to Gauting continued on to Salzburg or headed from Noricum to the area of Enns and Linz. Although a Marcomannic horizon is indicated in Linz, it is missing from all other sections of the western Norican limes. The invasions, which began in Pannonia, led even into northern Italy and necessitated the establishment of a new military zone, the praetentura Italiae et Alpium. This special command covered the eastern Regio Decima, southeastern Noricum, and the southwestern part of the province of Pannonia Superior. Its purpose was to repel further incursions into northern Italy. Around 165 ce, the legions II Italica and III Italica were recruited; though the immediate destination of III Italica is currently unknown, a detachment of the II Italica was involved in the construction of the fort of Locica in Noricum (Slovenia) in this military zone. Not too long after being raised, both units would have been moved to their first camps, at Enns and Eining-Unterfeld (legio III Italica coming from Raetia). Operating from Eining-Unterfeld, the future emperor Pertinax cleared the area of the Danube Bend near Regensburg and then turned to the Germans who had invaded Noricum. Another horizon of destruction has often been associated with the bellum desertorum, the internal unrest under Emperor Commodus. This horizon, however, fits the period of fighting at the very end of the Marcomannic Wars better, especially since the finds parallel those from the final destruction layers of that period in Pannonia. New finds from the vicus of Straubing can be attributed to this disaster, along with those in the vicus of Munningen, in Heidenheim and in Urspring. Even the fort of Murrhardt in Upper Germany was affected. Also around the end of the Marcomannic Wars, the legionary camp of Regensburg was under construction or had just been opened. The legion III Italica was transferred from Eining-Unterfeld to Regensburg in or soon after 179 ce. Then it took part in the third German war of the Emperor Commodus, which lasted until 182/183, when stability was finally restored. With the deployment of the legion in Regensburg, the center of political power shifted from Augsburg to Regensburg. Augsburg (Aelium Augustum) served as the civil command center of the procuratorial province, while Regensburg became the military center and headquarters of the legatus legionis. Similar conditions prevailed on the Norican limes, where the legion was transferred from Albing to Enns soon afterward.

Civil Wars and Germanic Invasions In the spring of 207, construction of the final stage of the Raetian limes, a stone border wall, began (Figure 12.5). It is likely that the wall, built on wooden pilings, went from stone tower to stone tower, connecting them, though only parts have been excavated. The most informative section was in the vicinity of Dambach, in Kreutweiher: its pilings have been analyzed, and their wood was felled in the winter of 206/207 ce, indicating the wall’s construction date. The wooden palisade that ran slightly in front of the wall was no longer intact at this point, and had to be replaced (Sommer 2011, 168–170).

Figure 12.5  The militarized zone of Germania Superior and Raetia from Marcus Aurelius to the later third century. Adapted by John Wallrodt from map by Günther Moosbauer, Gäubodenmuseum, Straubing.



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The now-dilapidated wooden watchtowers on the limes began to be replaced by stone ones at this time, if they had not been previously. The locations of the stone towers were chosen to adapt to topographic circumstances. The forts of Böhming and Ellingen on the northern Raetian limes were also rebuilt in stone, and similar measures in Pfünz and Weißenburg probably belong in this context (Sommer 2011, 166–168). There are signs of stone construction in the vicus at Straubing, while the area of the former Westkastell was built over for civic functions. In 213, Caracalla led a campaign into Germania (Moosbauer 2018, 42–50), though it remains unknown whether it was due to a Germanic incursion or was more of an offshoot of domestic politics. It probably began at Rainau-Buch, and numerous archaeological features in Raetia document it, such as the expansion of the city wall of the Apollo sanctuary at Faimingen (ancient Phoebiana), where Caracalla himself stayed. Numerous milestones from the year 212 also bear witness to the emperor’s presence in the province. In Dalkingen, probably the place where the emperor crossed the limes for these campaigns, a large triumphal arch was erected in 213. In 233 ce the Wetterau region, north of Mainz, was especially hard hit by Germanic invasions, which reached far into Upper Germany. Many forts were destroyed and estates devastated (Moosbauer 2018, 61–66). The invasion also reached Raetia. In the east of the province, the Kirchmatting coin hoard, 1169 denarii with the latest dated to 231, is the sole evidence, and because it is an isolated example, it could have been buried in advance of the invasions but not as a direct result. The situation is different, however, in southwest Raetia: twelve hoards found in the vicinity of Kempten seem to testify to a thrust of the Germanic tribes into southwest Raetia in 233, though this interpretation has recently been strongly debated. This troubled time brought on further wars on Rome’s borders, which led to the withdrawal of troops even from the Raetian limes. This weakening is documented, for example, in a reduction of bathing facilities datable from 236 ce. Nevertheless, the military border seems to have continued to function. Only after the middle of the third century ce was there massive destruction (Moosbauer 2021, with literature). For the Raetian border region, the limes itself, Reuter (2007, 133–145) mapped out a horizon of destruction by fire dated to 254 ce, when both camps and settlements came to an end, which is supported by numismatic and recent dendrochronological evidence. What was likely a devastating Germanic invasion apparently took the Romans by surprise, since a large number of bronze hoards were buried around this time. Destruction can also be seen on the eastern limes and its hinterland, either at this time or a few years later. For example, the villa at Regensburg-Harting shows the results of an attack on a Roman estate: two of its wells contained the remains of thirteen people, including three children. In one well, under the skeletons, there was an iron hoard containing scythes, a fork, a shovel, a pickaxe (dolabra), two crossbars for windows, and door fittings. The people, probably the residents of the manor based on evidence for kinship, were brutally slain, their skulls smashed; the skeletons bear the marks of swords. These finds suggest that the residents of the Regensburg-Harting estate were sacrificed by Germanic tribes (RiB 329). Similarly, the legionary camp of Regensburg and its canabae preserve burnt layers from around this time. Animals and five people, including a young girl and an older man, were found in a wood-lined well. The girl was killed by the sword and the man had a lance driven through his head (Dietz and Fischer 1996, 181–182). Following Reuter’s (2007, 128– 129) general conclusion from the latest dated coins of Gordian III (238–244), a date in 254 ce seems possible. In 260 ce, Postumus rebelled against the Emperor Gallienus, killed his son, and founded the Gallic Empire, with Cologne as its center, which was to last until 274. Initially, Raetia was also part of this breakaway kingdom, as an altar from Augsburg shows. This altar was dedicated to Victoria, and testifies to a battle against Semnones and Iuthungi on April 24 and 25, 260. The Germans had been on their way back from an invasion that led through Upper Italy

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and were crushed and routed by Raetian units and a kind of citizens’ army. In the process, thousands of prisoners who had been taken captive in Italy were freed. The core of the army units had been the army of Genialis, governor of Raetia, who had gathered them to protect the provincial capital, Augsburg. The monument was consecrated on September 11 of that year, under the rule of Postumus. The erasure of the names of the governor, Genialis, and the consuls Postumus and Honoratianus on the inscription, however, shows that even before the end of the Gallic Empire, perhaps in 265, Raetia again fell to Gallienus (Moosbauer 2018, 146–149). The last time German invasions hit Regensburg was around 280, when the Regensburg legionary camp in its middle imperial form seems to have fallen victim to them. This destruction layer, which is found throughout Regensburg, probably falls between 281 and 283 ce, as documented in detail by Reuter (2005). The current state of research does not allow us to be certain whether the large military installations of East Raetia, downstream from Regensburg, were destroyed at the same time or previously. In any case, their end falls in the period between 254 and 283.

Biographical Note Günther Moosbauer received his doctorate from the University of Passau on the agricultural history of Eastern Raetia. After a travel grant from the German Archaeological Institute, which took him around the Mediterranean, Moosbauer was a lecturer at the University of Osnabrück and responsible for the Varusschlacht project (Varus and the Battle of the Teutoburg Forest). There he completed his habilitation on the transition between late antiquity and the early Middle Ages in Raetia. From 2010 to 2013 he held the Professorship of Archeology of the Roman Provinces at the University of Osnabrück. He now heads the Gäubodenmuseum in Straubing (www.gaeubodenmuseum.de).

Abbreviations CIL = Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum. 1823–. Edited by Deutsche Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin. Paris: A. Franck. RiB = Die Römer in Bayern. 1995. By Wolfgang Czysz, Karlheinz Dietz, Thomas Fischer and Hans-Jörg Kellner. Stuttgart: Konrad Theiss.

REFERENCES Dietz, Karlheinz, and Thomas Fischer. 1996. Die Römer in Regensburg. Regensburg: Pustet. Donaubauer, Paul. 1989. Die römischen Funde von Töging. (Master’s Thesis, Ludwig-MaximiliansUniversität Munich). Fischer, Veronika. 2015. “Straubing”. In At the Edge of the Roman Empire. Tours along the Limes in Southern Germany, edited by Sebastian Sommer and Suzana Matešić, World Heritage Site Limes, Special volume, Vol. 3, 196–201. Mainz: Nünnerich-Asmus Verlag. Franke, Regina. 2003. “Arae Flaviae V. Die Kastelle I und II von Arae Flaviae/Rottweil und die römische Okkupation des oberen Neckargebietes.” Forschungen und Berichte zur Vor- und Frühgeschichte in Baden-Württemberg, 93: 149–156.



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Gassner, Verena, Sonja Jilek, and Sabine Ladstätter. 2002. Am Rande des Reiches. Die Römer in Österreich. Österreichische Geschichte 15 v. Chr. – 378 n. Chr. Vienna: Ueberreuter. Hüssen, Claus-Michael. 2004. “Besiedlungswandel und Kontinuität in oberbayerischen Donauraum und in der Münchner Schotterebene von der Okkupation unter Augustus bis in tiberische-claudische Zeit.” In Spätlatènezeit und frühe römische Kaiserzeit zwischen Alpenrand und Donau. Akten des Kolloquiums in Ingolstadt am 11. und 12. Oktober 2001, edited by Claus-Michael Hüssen, Walter Irlinger, and Werner Zanier, 73–91. Bonn: Dr. Rudolf Habelt GmbH. Hüssen, Claus-Michael. 2009. “Kösching, Burgheim, Nassenfels. Grenzsicherung in Raetien im 1. und frühen 2. Jahrhundert n. Chr.” In Limes XX. XX congreso internacional de estudios sobre la frontera romana, edited by Ángel Morillo Cerdán, Norbert Hanel, and Esperanza Manso Martin, Anejos de Gladius Vol. 13/2, 965–975. Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, Instituto Histórico Hoffmeyer. Hüssen, Claus-Michael, Walter Irlinger, and Werner Zanier, eds. 2004. Spätlatènezeit und frühe römische Kaiserzeit zwischen Alpenrand und Donau. Akten des Kolloquiums in Ingolstadt am 11. und 12 Oktober 2001. Bonn: R. Habelt. Küster, Hansjörg. 1988. Vom Werden einer Kulturlandschaft. Vegetationsgeschichtliche Studien am Auerberg (Südbayern). Quellen und Forschungen zur prähistorischen und provinzialrömischen Archäologie 3. Weinheim: VCH Acta Humaniora. Moosbauer, Günther. 2003. “Das römische Ostraetien: Neue Forschungen zu Militärlagern und Gutshöfen.” In Vorträge des 21. Niederbayerischen Archäologentages, edited by Karl Schmotz, 247– 293. Rahden: Verlag Marie Leidorf. Moosbauer, Günther. 2015. “Beobachtungen zur provinzialrömischen Archäologie im Landkreis Deggendorf.” In Vorträge des 33. Niederbayerischen Archäologentages, edited by Ludwig Husty and Karl Schmotz, 171–184. Rahden: Verlag Marie Leidorf. Moosbauer, Günther. 2018. Die vergessene Römerschlacht. Der sensationelle Fund am Harzhorn. Munich: C.H. Beck. Moosbauer, Günther. 2021. “Grenzkonzepte: Wandel des obergermanisch-raetischen Limes und des Donaulimes im Zuge politscher Veränderungen.” In Leben mit und an der Grenze. Internationale Konferenz von 4.–5. April 2019 an der Universität Graz, RESOWI-Zentrum, edited by Sabine HaringMosbacher and Wolfgang Spickermann, 43–88. Graz: Universtitätsverlag Graz. Pfahl, Stefan. 1999. Die römische und frühalamannische Besiedlung zwischen Donau, Brenz und Nau. Materialhefte zur Archäologie in Baden-Württemberg 48. Stuttgart: Konrad Theiss. Reuter, Marcus. 2007. “Das Ende des raetischen Limes im Jahr 254 n. Chr.” Bayerische Vorgeschichtsblätter, 72: 77–149. Reuter, Stefan. 2005. “Ein Zerstörungshorizont der Jahre um 280 n. Chr. in der Retentura des Legionslagers Reginum/Regensburg.” Bayerische Vorgeschichtsblätter, 70: 183–281. Rieckhoff, Sabine. 1995. Süddeutschland im Spannungsfeld von Kelten, Germanen und Römern. Trierer Zeitschrift, Beiheft 19. Trier: Selbstverlag des Rheinischen Landesmuseums Trier. Sommer, Sebastian. 2011. “Trajan, Hadrian, Antoninus Pius, Marc Aurel…? – Zur Datierung der Anlagen des Raetischen Limes.” Bericht der Bayerischen Bodendenkmalpflege, 52: 137–180. Sommer, Sebastian, and Suzana Matešić, eds. 2015. At the Edge of the Roman Empire. Tours along the Limes in Southern Germany. World Heritage Site Limes, Special volume, Vol. 3. Mainz: NünnerichAsmus Verlag. Ulbert, Günter. 2006. “Der Auerberg. Eine römische Bergsiedlung des frühen 1. Jahrhunderts n. Chr.” Akademie Aktuell, Ausgabe 3: 32–37. Accessed January 29 2021. https://www.alpenrand-inroemerhand.de/fileadmin/bilder/bernbeuren/Text_Ulbert.pdf Weber, Gerhard, ed. 2001. Cambodunum – Kempten. Erste Hauptstadt der römischen Provinz Raetien? Mainz: von Zabern. Wieland, G. 2004. “Zur Frage der Kontinuität von der Spätlatènezeit in die frühe römische Kaiserzeit an der oberen Donau.” In Spätlatènezeit und frühe römische Kaiserzeit zwischen Alpenrand und Donau. Akten des Kolloquiums in Ingolstadt am 11. und 12. Oktober 2001, edited by Claus-Michael Hüssen, Walter Irlinger, and Werner Zanier, 113–122. Bonn: Dr. Rudolf Habelt GmbH.

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Zanier, Werner. 2004. “Gedanken zur Besiedlung der Spätlatène- und frühen römischen Kaiserzeit zwischen Alpenrandund Donau: eine Zusammenfassung mit Ausblick und Fundstellenlisten.” In Spätlatènezeit und frühe römische Kaiserzeit zwischen Alpenrand und Donau. Akten des Kolloquiums in Ingolstadt am 11. und 12. Oktober 2001, edited by Claus-Michael Hüssen, Walter Irlinger, and Werner Zanier, 237–264. Bonn: Dr. Rudolf Habelt GmbH. Zanier, Werner. 2006. Das Alpenrheintal in den Jahrzehnten um Christi Geburt. Münchner Beiträge zur Vor- und Frühgeschichte 59. Munich: Bayerische Akademie der Wissenschaften. Zanier, Werner. 2016. Der spätlatène- und frühkaiserzeitliche Opferplatz auf dem Döttenbichl südlich von Oberammergau. Münchner Beiträge zur Vor- und Frühgeschichte 62/1–3. Munich: Bayerische Akademie der Wissenschaften.

CHAPTER 13

DACIA Alexandru Diaconescu†

Introduction The Roman province of Dacia was an unusual extension of the empire beyond the natural b ­ orders provided by the two great rivers, the Rhine and Danube. In 106 ce it was (along with Arabia) among the last territories to be incorporated into the empire, and ca. 260–275, it was (along with the Agri Decumates) among the first to be lost. In no more than a century and a half of occupation, the Roman Empire managed to develop a very dynamic provincial society that created monuments comparable to those of other provinces in the region of Illyricum. Some of the changes in landscape and demography would last over the centuries, proving that this was more than a temporary adventure. (For short accounts on Roman Dacia, see Protase 1994; Bãrbulescu 1994; Petolescu 1995; Hanson and Haynes 2004; Gudea and Lobüscher 2006; Oltean 2007).

Environment: Resources and Sustainability The Trajanic province of Dacia comprised above all the modern regions of Transylvania, the Banat (between the Mureş, Tisa, and Danube rivers) and western Oltenia (Haynes and Hanson 2004, 15–19; Oltean 2007, 53–59). The eastern territories (including the river Alutus, modern Olt), once part of the Dacian kingdom, were incorporated into Moesia Inferior. In fact, all the land north of the Lower Moesian section of the Danube was conquered as an extension of that province, and troops from Lower Moesia were garrisoned there (Zahariade and Dvorski 1977, 55–69). This territory and western Banat were given up when Trajan died. The natural environment can explain some features of Dacia’s regional history. The c­ limate of Dacia (Hanson and Haynes 2004, fig. 1.1), and consequently its landscape, which resembled the western provinces with rich alpine pastures, deep forests in the hills, and fertile fields and rivers in the lowlands, made imperial expansion north of the Lower Danube seem rea†

Deceased

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 1, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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sonable (Haynes and Hanson 2004, 12–14; Oltean 2007, 26–40; Fodorean 2013). The Carpathian mountains provided a variety of minerals such as gold, silver, lead, and copper, but above all the Transylvanian plateau produced salt, which was essential for the economy of the semi-nomadic people living in the two great plains that bordered Dacia on the west, Banat and Crişana, with the Hungarian plain beyond. On the east was the Wallachian plain, then southern Bessarabia and the great Eurasian Steppe. The complementary economy of highlanders and lowlanders created both alliances and tensions throughout antiquity and into modern times, and more than once those who exercised control over Transylvanian salt and other minerals enjoyed an unusual prosperity, comparable with that of the Hallstadt region, the other main salt source in central Europe. Copper resources in Transylvania made the late Bronze Age its “Golden Age” (a single deposit from Uioara contained more than five tons of bronze objects), and more iron objects were found in the later colony and capital Sarmizegetusa than in all barbarian Europe of the first century bce to first century ce. Ultimately, the Dacians developed an urban civilization in the mountains of southern Transylvania with good parallels in the Balkans, such as the Getic town of Helis-Sboryanovo, where the strong influence of Greeks is obvious (Stefan 2005, 367–374; Lockyear 2004, 43–63; Oltean 2007, 88–96; Florea 2011, 115–175). Why did the Romans venture north of the Danube? Despite the common opinion among most Romanian scholars that the Romans wanted the gold and other minerals of the Dacians, or their rich crops, an objective examination of ancient sources indicates that Greek and Roman writers regarded the north Danube territories as poor and rather inhospitable. Another reason is offered by the Panegyric of Pliny the Younger and the coins issued on the eve of the first Dacian war: they gave the emperor Trajan’s sole motivation as avenging what was considered an unfavorable peace with the Dacians concluded by Domitian (Bennett 1997, 85–103). In fact, the reasons for the conquest of the kingdom of Decebalus were neither economic nor emotional, but strategic. Emperor Trajan felt it was necessary to annihilate this menacing barbarian center of power in the Carpathian Mountains, which was extending its dominion toward neighboring populations and thus becoming a redoubtable threat to Rome (Haynes and Hanson 2004, 14–18; Ştefan 2005; Oltean 2007, 41–55). This is upheld by Trajan’s actions after the conquest: He transferred into Dacia at least three legions, IV Flavia Felix, XIII Gemina, and I Adiutrix, and several auxiliary troops, an army around 60,000 strong. This force was accompanied by many colonists from all over the Roman world, brought to Dacia to build cities and cultivate the fields (Eutropius 8.6.2; Bennett 1997, 170–171; Ruscu 2003, 104–115, 2004, 75–76). Private initiatives, especially attracted by gold mining, also played an important part in the demographic change that took place in the early decades of the second century. Thus, Roman lifestyle and civic culture were introduced, and in less than two generations Dacia caught up with earlier conquered territories south of the Danube, combining to form the Illyricum. The large number of soldiers and the growing urban population were great consumers and thus stimulated the production of goods, the intense trade in salt, and the mining of rich gold deposits in the Western Carpathian Mountains. These brought great prosperity to the province created by Trajan, which lasted from the middle of the second century to the middle of the third. Dacian gold was a byword in both the ancient and modern worlds, but recent archaeological research has allowed a reassessment. First, there was no pre-Roman mining, only panning for gold. The famous Dacian bracelets were made of this type of gold, while the many coins with legend ΚΟΣΩΝ, which were of imported gold, must be “protection money” paid to the renowned Dacian warriors by Greeks and Romans, and were buried around Decebalus’ capital Sarmizegetusa when defeat was near. The Romans seem not to have been aware of the rich deposits in the Western Carpathians until the capture of the “treasure of Decebalus,” depicted on both Trajan’s column in Rome and his arch at Beneventum, which led to the



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great gold rush under the first Antonines. Whether this funded the great building projects of Trajan (his Forum in Rome, harbor in Ostia, channel between the Nile and the Red Sea, Via Traiana Nova in the East) falls beyond the limits of this chapter, however. In any case, the discovery of gold in the Western Carpathians must have enflamed the imagination of many people, and with Roman state support, entire communities from Dalmatia, Pannonia, and Asia Minor, with their leaders (principes), migrated to Dacia, where they were officially settled (adsignati, IDR III/3, 345). The gold rush was so effective that the gold mines farther west in Dalmatia (auraria Delmatarum) are not mentioned after Trajan, and gold mining seems to have stopped there. The excavation of over 15 km of Roman underground galleries by a French–Romanian team has shown that the best technologies known to the ancient world were used in Dacia, too (Cauuet 2008). By the end of the second century, the rich ore from Alburnus Maior (Roşia Montanã, Figure 13.1, 24) was almost entirely exhausted, and the miners moved elsewhere in the same region. The third-century prosperity of the gold mining district capital, Ampelum (Figure 13.1, 25), as well as the mid-third century epithet Chrysopolis (“town of gold”) attached to the nearby town of Apulum (Figure 13.1, 26), show that gold extraction continued there after the abandonment of Alburnus Maior. Despite flourishing agriculture and intensive extraction of minerals, the ultimate resource for Dacia’s economy was the money sent there by the imperial fiscus to pay the troops. For instance, according to my estimations, at the beginning of the third century, after Caracalla doubled the soldiers’ pay, around one billion sestertii entered the province per year. By this time, the most important and active communities (the colony Sarmizegetusa, Apulum, Potaissa, Napoca, and Dierna) enjoyed ius Italicum (Ulpian in Digest 50.15.1.9), and were exempt from taxes such as tributum soli and tributum capitis. This dependence on military expenses for provincial income would prove disastrous in the last decades of the province’s existence, when the central authorities failed to pay the troops north of the Danube. What did Rome gain from conquering Dacia? It is hard to say in the case of many provinces, as the Romans themselves knew well. If there was anything that the empire really gained after the integration of Dacia, it was a constant supply of military manpower, which seems to have been the most significant contribution of the Illyrian provinces. Under Septimius Severus, when soldiers and noncommissioned officers (principales) from Dacia, Pannonia, and Moesia entered Rome and replaced the traditional praetorian guard, the refined Greek historian and senator Cassius Dio (74.2.6) described them as “a mob of all kind of soldiers most savage in appearance, most terrifying in speech, and most boorish in conversation.” In the third century, Dacian members of an increasing equestrian class served in the army, where their military skills were greatly appreciated. The most important families from the Roman towns of Sarmizegetusa and Apulum dominated the economic life of the province, administering gold mining, pasturage, and salt extraction. They became magistrates in different towns, served in key positions in the two legions, and commanded most of the auxiliary units. They also dominated religious life, as the list of provincial imperial priests proves. Under the “soldier emperors” they even played an important role in imperial policy. On the other hand, with one possible exception, no member of the senatorial order originated in Dacia. Climate change also played a considerable part in the ascent and decay of the Roman province of Dacia, though its influence on the history of the region is still a matter of debate. Paleoclimatic research in the glaciers of the Western Carpathians (caves of Scãrişoara and Focul Viu) is at an early stage. Despite their range of 3500–4000 years, only the last millennium has been probed and is under study, while research in the Tatra Mountains reveals that a warming trend began around the seventh to eighth centuries ce and continued into the thirteenth to fourteenth centuries, as is confirmed by study of glaciers in the Alps and Greenland.

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Figure 13.1  Map of Roman Dacia. By Alexandru Diaconescu, with formatting by John Wallrodt.



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Figure 13.1  (Continued)

The conquest of Dacia apparently coincided with a period considerably warmer than today. Trajan’s choice of Sarmizegetusa as his only colony in the province was primarily strategic, but he must have also been influenced by the familiar agricultural landscape, even suitable for vineyards, that he saw. Later this was not the case: from the second to the seventh centuries ce, the climate grew progressively colder, and Sarmizegetusa is one of the few Roman settlements in Dacia that is not overlain by a modern town. Literary sources ­reiterated commonplace observations about cold winds and a frozen Danube crossed by invading ­barbarians, a description more suited to the eastern steppe than mountainous Dacia (Oltean 2007, 31–33). The Marcomannic wars opened a new era of conflicts between the province and northern barbarians; this pressure at the empire’s borders by the great demographic movements beyond was partly caused by climate change. Natural catastrophes from around 190 ce must have contributed to the increased cooling of the weather (Vetters and Zabehlicky 2004). Increasing evidence from building techniques, heating systems, and modifications in ­garments show that by the turn of the second to the third century, a drop in annual average temperature was perceived in Roman Dacia. In the third century the Trajanic colony Sarmizegetusa was displaced by a more dynamic and better situated city, Apulum (see below). How far ­climate deterioration influenced the crisis of the mid-third century, from which Dacia never recovered, is still to be investigated.

Infrastructure, Administration, and Military Strategy For decades the main theme in Romanian literature was Roman administration of Dacia, mainly the successive partitions of the province. Endless debates about the extent of a ­contemporary administrative district were carried over to ancient times, and often, by coincidence or not, the birthplace of the author corresponded with his opinions on the Roman administrative unit in question. The real question should be why the Romans made their decisions, and what they were responding to. The answer requires understanding Roman tactics and strategy in Dacia, which were only partly similar to those along Hadrian’s Wall in Britain, or to the Great Wall of China. In fact there was no “Maginot Line” here, except ­perhaps the “limes Alutanus,” the fortified line along the river Olt.

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Early Spring: Dacia under Trajan As soon as Dacia was conquered, the Romans were faced with the old problems caused by the proximity of semi-nomadic Sarmatians. In 107 ce, they were already at war with their former allies, the Iazyges of the Hungarian plain, who claimed territories that had recently been taken from them by Decebalus but that Trajan had failed to return after the defeat of the Dacians. Meanwhile, a huge enterprise of land surveying and road construction was initiated, probably under the guidance of the famous topographer Balbus. In one year, the Romans built more roads than the Romanian state in the last twenty-five years. CIL III 1627, a milestone found at Aiton, halfway between Potaissa (Figure 13.1, 35) and Napoca (Figure 13.1, 36), states that ten miles of the main north-south via militaris from Potaissa was completed by the first cohort of Spaniards (coh. I. Flavia Ulpia Hispanorum milliaria civium Romanorum equitata) in 108 ce. Other sections of the great imperial road must have been finished at the same time by each garrison in the area. Trajan and his advisors planned out this road in a very rational manner, with regular intervals between main (72 Roman miles), secondary (36 miles), and intermediary stops (12 miles) (Diaconescu 1997). Another Trajanic project was the famous Via Pontica, a road mentioned by Aurelius Victor (Caesars 13.3), which was intended to connect the Black Sea to Gaul. It probably started at Troesmis on the Danube, if not at Tyras on the Black Sea shore, crossed southern Moldavia, reached Piroboridava on the Siret River, then went through the passage at Angustia (Figure 13.1, 59), entered east Transylvania, and finally reached Apulum (modern Alba Iulia, Figure 13.1, 26). Running from there along the Mureş Valley, it came to Partiscum (Figure 13.1, 18) and then crossed the southern Alföld to Lugio (Mocsy 1974, 100–101). At the death of Trajan, however, some of these territories were abandoned and only the section in the interior of the Dacian province remained in use (Bennett 1997, 166). After the complete survey of the province and the planning of civil settlements and military camps, plots were assigned to colonists. Recently identified were traces of the centuriation of the first colony, named Colonia Dacica Sarmizegetusa after the capital of Decebalus, but situated some 60 km north of it in the Şureanu Mountains (Figure 13.2, 3; Diaconescu 2010, 142–152). The first town contained 22.5 ha within its walls, twice as large as another Trajanic colony, Timgad in North Africa, where five hundred families were settled. The approximation of a thousand families for Sarmizegetusa is confirmed by the size of the timber amphitheater, which seated some two thousand spectators, and by the ten centuriae of 740 × 740 m detected in the rural territory next to the town. Single centuriae of the same size were identified in the districts pagus Aquensis and pagus Miciensis (Figure 13.2, 4–5; Diaconescu 2010, 152–156). In the case of Apulum, as will be seen, the original street grid of the civilian settlement and some alignments from Trajanic land planning are also detectable (Figure 13.2, 2). This spread of settlements populated with colonists over some 200 km, from Dierna on the Danube to Apulum on the middle Mureş and Ampelum in the Western Carpathians, covered the fertile river valleys of the province and other key economic points. The actual province Dacia was occupied by military contingents from the Pannonian and Upper Moesian army. In the first years after the conquest, the provinces of Lower Pannonia and Dacia were connected, not separated by Moesia Superior and the southern Hungarian Plain. Military diplomas (CIL XVI 163 and 164, from Porolissum and Tokod, respectively) record troops as belonging both to the army of Pannonia Inferior and of Dacia on the same day, July 2, 110 ce (for this unusual situation, see Nemeth 2007, 94–96). The first person to exercise command over the legions from Dacia was one Julius Sabinus, who performed the first discharge of troops. Then, sometime between 109 and 113 ce, it was D. Terentius Scaurianus, a governor of consular rank and founder of Colonia Dacica Sarmizegetusa (for the governors of Dacia, see Piso 1993, 2013). He probably presided over three legions: IV Flavia Felix, previously in the army of Moesia Superior, garrisoned at Bersobiae



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Figure 13.2  1. Apulum: General plan showing the evolution of the settlements. 2. Apulum: Pagus of Sarmizegetusa/Municipium, Colonia Aurelia Apulensis. 3. Colonia Dacica Sarmizegtusa, plan showing centuration. 4. Sarmizegtusa, Pagus Aquensis (Calan), plan of centuria. 5. Sarmizegtusa, Pagus Miciensis, auxiliary fort and military vicus. By Alexandru Diaconescu.

in the southwest (Figure 13.1, 7); XIII Gemina, at Apulum in the Mureş valley (Figure 13.1, 26), where it remained until 271–275 ce; and I Adiutrix, which was possibly garrisoned for some time at Napoca (Figure 13.1, 36) before returning to Pannonia Superior (Diaconescu 1997; pace Nemeth 2007, 73–74). Tile stamps indicate that XIII Gemina was involved in building projects in the center (sometimes with I Adiutrix) and IV Flavia Felix was active in the southern half of the province, including Sarmizegetusa (Figure 13.1, 14; for excavations in the Trajanic phases, see Diaconescu 2004, 69–103). That new city was placed ca. 100 km from the two legions at Bersobiae and Apulum, with Napoca another 100 km farther. As mentioned, the Roman authorities also organized prospecting and mining of gold, silver, lead, iron, and salt, not to mention marble quarrying. There is evidence that military experts under Trajan discovered all the ores that would be exploited later.

Hot Summer: Mid-Antonine Dacia At the death of Trajan, this promising beginning was once again jeopardized by restless nomadic neighbors. The Roman authorities were forced to react by reorganizing the north Danube territories; to understand several of their administrative and strategic decisions, salt trade routes provide the key. Literary sources inform us that Hadrian came to the Lower Danube in person and quickly made peace with the eastern tribesmen, the Roxolani. This was probably when the Romans withdrew from south Moldavia and the Wallachian plain. The rest of the territories that had belonged to Moesia Inferior were then transferred to Dacia. The situation in the west was far more dramatic. The Iazyges had been menacing even before the death of Trajan, which may have prompted the arrival of the great general

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Quadratus Bassus from Syria in 117 ce. The barbarians attacked Pannonia Inferior and Dacia simultaneously, burning the forts in northwestern Dacia, including Gilãu, Cãşei, and Ilişua (Figure 13.1, 37, 44, 48). The excavations at Porolissum and Napoca, however, have not revealed a similar layer of destruction thusfar. Other destructions are recorded in the forts of northeast Pannonia. In the first half of the second century, the core of the Sarmatian power lay in the northern half of the Hungarian Plain, and again they aimed at the territories they had claimed after the defeat of Decebalus, mainly the salt resources of the Transylvanian Plain. Traces of violence were identified in the southwest too, at Tibiscum (Figure 13.1, 9), although the dating of the burnt layers there is questionable. Probably the strategic line Lederata–Besobiae (Figure 13.1, 1, 5, 6, 7) was abandoned on this occasion (Nemeth 2005, 135–143, 150), and the traditional border between Dacia and the Iazyges’ territory was probably pushed east of the Tibiscus River, which Claudius Ptolemaios (Geography 3.7), writing under Antoninus Pius, stated was the border between Dacia and the land of the Iazyges; it is difficult to tell whether this was a contemporary fact or an old one taken to be still valid. When the governor Quadratus Bassus died fighting the barbarians, the dashing praefectus praetorio, Q. Marcius Turbo, was appointed to lead the armies of both Pannonia Inferior and Dacia in 118 ce. He defeated the Sarmatians, driving them out of northeast Pannonia and northwest Dacia (Historia Augusta, Hadrian, 6.6–8, 7.1–4; Ruscu 2003, 90–103). Under these circumstances, the north Danube territories conquered by Trajan had to be reorganized in 118 ce by dividing the Dacian province into three entities: Dacia Superior, Dacia Porolissensis, and Dacia Inferior (Figure 13.1; Haynes and Hanson 2004, 19, fig. 1.3). The most important of the three was Dacia Superior, down whose center ran the valley of the Mureş (ancient Maris) River, the artery on which salt from east and central Transylvania was transported by raft to the southern Hungarian plain and farther, via the river Tisa (ancient Tisia), to the west Balkans. Army posts (stationes) that produced brickstamps of legio XIII Gemina at Apulum and cohors II Commagenorum at Micia were distributed along the valley of Mureş, between the auxiliary fort at Micia (Figure 13.1, 19) and Szeged, ancient Partiscum (Figure 13.1, 18), at the junction of the Mureş and Tisa. Some posts are dated in the third century, showing that this vital trade route was still in use after the retreat from the Lederata– Bersobiae line. It is likely that central and western Banat was not an effective part of Dacia Superior, but was nonetheless under military control, since in several cases Roman authority extended far beyond the limits of the provincial territory (Nemeth 2005, 83–85). A continuous border road provided with forts, limes, like Hadrian’s Wall in Britain, is difficult to trace in Dacia, although the so-called limes Alutanus and limes trans Alutanus (see below) could fit this model. For instance, there is no clear fortification line through the Western or Eastern Carpathian Mountains. In most cases, Roman generals preferred to exercise a dynamic control over a border region, well beyond the line of forts. Dacia’s defensive system was likely more like the strategy Arrian used in Cappadocia under Hadrian, when he led an expeditionary corps combining legionaries and auxiliaries from the whole province against the Sarmatian Alani, marching outside the province into enemy territory (Ruscu 1999; Diaconescu 2004, 126–127). From a strategic point of view, the auxiliary troops of Dacia Superior were meant to guard navigation on the river Mureş, watch the lowlands of Banat in the southwest on one side, and on the other, exercise control over the less urbanized region in east Transylvania, facing the Eastern Carpathians (Figure 13.1, 52–57). There the minor trade with Moldavia had to be kept under observation, since this was a restless region with many citadels, even in the late Iron Age. Dacia Superior had the only legion left in Dacia, XIII Gemina, stationed in the center of the Mureş valley at Apulum (Figure 13.1, 26). Its senatorial commander, of praetorian rank, also acted as provincial governor and controlled the economically important gold mining region of the Western Carpathians as part of Dacia Superior, though its administrative



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center at Ampelum (modern Zlatna, Figure 13.1, 25) was directly under imperial control of a procurator aurariarum. Dacia Superior contained the main routes connecting to the rest of the empire, i.e., the roads to Dierna (Figure 13.1, 12) and Drobeta (Figure 13.1, 72), as well as the colony Sarmizegetusa (Figure 13.1, 14), which had a close relationship with the governor at Apulum as its patron: from around 140–180 ce, every governor was honored by the colony with both a standing statue and an equestrian one, the latter placed in the city’s Forum Novum. In the northwest, the province of Dacia Porolissensis controlled the valley of the river Someş (ancient Samus) and the salt trade routes west from the Transylvanian Plain to Crişana, Sãtmar and the north Hungarian Plain. Dacia Porolissensis was under the authority of a praesidial procurator of equestrian rank, commanding the auxiliary forces of exercitus Daciae Porolissensis, as attested by brick stamps. Its cavalry units controlled the eastern plain where the main salt mines were located, while the infantry (mostly units of Britons) watched the land routes. The Roman roads of Dacia Porolissensis follow exactly the same salt routes used before and after the Romans, up to modern times. The main one leads from Potaissa through Napoca to Optatiana and Porolissum (Figure 13.1, 35, 36, 40, 42), while a western one starts at Potaissa and follows the route of the modern highway to Gilãu and on to Bologa (Figure 13.1, 35, 37, 38). The eastern trail leads from the mines at Cojocna and Sic (near Jucu, Figure 13.1, 46) to Napoca, or to Gherla and further downstream to Cãşei (ancient Samus) and Tihãu (Figure 13.1, 47, 44, 43). The northeastern one starts at Orheiul Bistriţei via Ilişua (ancient Arcobadara) and meets the previous route at Cãşei/Samus (Figure 13.1, 49, 48, 44). The residence of the governor was the newly created municipium Napoca, where bricks stamped with the word fisci were found. The main trade center with local tribes was at Porolissum (Figure 13.1, 42), where several auxiliary units were garrisoned. In some cases the initial commander in charge, Q. Marcius Turbo, replaced infantry units with cavalry transferred from the army of Pannonia Inferior. His defensive system was based on the mobility of cavalry units in the second line and infantry in the front line. Palmyrene archers at Porolissum, both infantry and equestrian, guarded the border, while Moors at Optatiana (Figure 13.1, 40) supervised the interior of the province. The reason for the strength of this organization was danger from the Iazyges, who had attacked and destroyed forts in 117 ce, as already noted. After the Lower Moesian territories of the Wallachian plain and south Moldavia were given up to the Roxolani, the third province, Dacia Inferior, was created in the southeast. It was guarded by auxiliary troops along its main artery, the Olt River (ancient Alutus), which connected eastern Transylvania and the Danube. The main strategic task of its equestrian praesidial procurator was to secure the connection between salt mines in east Transylvania and the province of Moesia Inferior, south of the Danube. At the same time, along with the senatorial governor of Lower Moesia, he must have exercised an effective control over the just-abandoned territories. For instance, in 142–145 ce, when the governor T. Flavius Priscus was appointed [prol]eg(atus) et praef(ectus) Daciae Inferioris (Syme 1962; Ruscu 2003, 118) due to troubles caused by east Dacians and Sarmatian Roxolani, he had under his authority not only the auxiliary troops from Dacia Inferior but also (according to his title) legionary contingents, most likely from Moesia Inferior, as they were closer to the battlefield than the legion in Apulum, which was under the command of the governor of Dacia Superior. Several building inscriptions from the forts along the Olt River, probably dating from 138–140 ce (IDR II, 575–576, 584–585, 587–588), show that on the eve of this war, earlier Trajanic timber ramparts were rebuilt in stone at forts at Rãdãcineşti, Bivolari (ancient Arutela), and Copãceni (ancient Praetorium; Figure 13.1, 78, 79, 80). The only town of Dacia Inferior at the time of its organization was the Hadrianic municipium of Romula Malvensium, modern Reşca, in the southern plain of Oltenia (Figure 13.1,

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69). The other Hadrianic municipium in the region, Drobeta (Figure 13.1, 72), was of strategic importance for the road connecting it to Sarmizegetusa (Figure 13.1, 72, 73, 14), and so was placed in Dacia Superior, under the authority of the governor at Apulum.

Storms from the North: Late Antonine Reorganization In the last years of Marcus Aurelius and under Commodus, the pressure from northern people became more menacing (Opreanu 1998), and both the nature of conflict and the Roman response changed. The “free barbarians” of Dacian and Germanic origin, under the pressure of others of their own kin, demanded entry into the empire. Although the old Sarmatian enemies were still active, salt played a lesser role in these new tensions, compared with menacing climate and the hope of a better life under Roman rule. As Cassius Dio (72.36.4) wrote, after the death of Marcus nothing was as before, and the empire went from an age of gold to one of rusty iron. First, the Marcomannic wars caused new troubles in the North and West. Then in 168 ce, Sarmatian Iazyges charged into southwest Dacia, plundering Tibiscum and Sarmizegetusa. In the latter, a thick burned layer appears in almost all the buildings outside the town’s walls, and two inscriptions mention “a great danger” (ancipite periculum) facing the town, with some religious buildings “burnt down by the violence of the enemies” (a vi hostium exusti IDR III/2, 76, 11). The invaders did not reach Apulum and the gold-mining region of Ampelum, despite the old opinion that the wax tablets from Alburnus Maior were hidden on the eve of the barbarian attack; recent extended excavations there failed to identify any traces of violence on the site (discussed later in this chapter). In response, a second legion, V Macedonica, was brought from Troesmis in the southeast to Potaissa in Dacia (Figure 13.1, 35), some 30 km from Napoca (Haynes and Hanson 2004, 19–20), which was not only the main salt producer in the north, but in contact with the gold mines via the Arieş River Valley. Command of the Dacian forces was reunited under a governor of consular rank, still at Apulum, who had under his leadership the two praetorian legati of the two legions and the auxiliary forces spread throughout the land. The two legions, XIII Gemina and V Macedonica, were placed in key points from which they could easily march against the western and northern barbarians and thus control both the main salt routes and the gold mines. The auxiliary troops were kept in their old posts, since their roles as local capitals and overseeing any barbarian groups accepted in the province was increasing (for the role of the army in the administration of rural Dacia, see Diaconescu 2004, 126–127; for a slightly different point of view, Nemeti 2014). Dacia Porolissensis became a financial district, as did Dacia Apulensis (Superior) and Dacia Malvensis (Inferior). Each of these was put under the authority of a financial procurator of equestrian rank, that of Dacia Apulensis headquartered in the colony Sarmizegetusa, the others still in Napoca and Romula. They were charged with collecting revenues for the imperial fiscus from trade within publicum portorium Illyrici, from leaseholders of gold mines (conductores aurariarum) and of pastures and salt mines (conductores pascui et salinarum); but those paled in comparison to their main duty of paying the troops.

Indian Summer: The Severans and the First Soldier Emperors The united command of the three Dacias (tres Daciae) first proved its efficiency, not against the barbarians, but during the events of 193 ce, when the governor of Pannonia, its two legions, and auxiliaries marched with those of Pannonia and Moesia to capture Italy and thus the empire for Septimius Severus. After that success, they were sent against Severus’ rivals,



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Pescennius Niger in the East and then Clodius Albinus in the West. The triumph of Severus and later generosity of his son Caracalla made the soldiery from Illyricum an active part of imperial policy. Archaeology shows the first half of the third century as a time of exceptional prosperity for Dacia. Barbarian attacks (e.g., of the Carpi under Philip the Arab) show no sign of having reached Transylvania, and only touched the southeast (Dacia Malvensis), as shown by coin hoards of the period; the main mid-third century invasions of Carpi and then Goths were aimed at the provinces south of the Danube, where booty was abundant and easy once the defenses along the river bank were passed.

Winter: Abandonment of Trans-Danubian Dacia As archaeology does not record any destruction of sites in Transylvania in the third century (Diaconescu 2004, 128–137), the reasons for the abandonment of Dacia are an intriguing problem. Dacia died slowly, since the troops were not paid properly after the middle of the third century. Ruscu (2003,162–233) analyzed the literary sources, which recorded a loss of the province under Gallienus and a retreat of troops and officials across the Danube under Aurelian.

The Archaeological Anatomy of a Frontier Province Excavation remains the primary source for archaeology, despite many more technologically sophisticated, noninvasive methods of investigation. Cutting through, anatemnein in Greek, is indispensable for establishing the stratigraphic sequence on any site, which is the first concern of the field archaeologist, just as anatomy, giving direct access to the human body, is the starting point of scientific medicine. Often, however, the sites of Roman Dacia have been approached merely as rich sources of inscriptions, statues, and spectacular small finds, with monumental structures that please the local authorities and sponsors. Yet, as I have shown in the case of town archaeology (Diaconescu 2004), in the last decades several researchers concerned with Roman Dacia have penetrated beyond the foundations of monumental structures, reaching the more humble remains of timber buildings and opening the prospect of understanding the brief and brilliant evolution of Roman civilization north of the Danube.

Apulum One example of a Dacian city’s accelerated rise and abrupt fall, echoing that of the province, is the military and urban settlement of Apulum (modern Alba Iulia, Figure 13.1, 26, and Figure 13.2, 1; Diaconescu and Piso 1993; Diaconescu 2004, 103–117). Set in the center of the province, this complex place consisted of a legionary fortress, permanently occupied from Trajan to Aurelian by the legion XIII Gemina, and three urban settlements: a civilian settlement, canabae, associated with the legion; a colony (Colonia Aurelia Apulensis, which had previously been municipium Aurelium Apulense for a short time); and a municipium Septimium Apulense. To these should be added the residence (praetorium) of the consular governor of the three Dacian provinces (consularis trium Daciarum), which made Apulum the administrative and military capital of Dacia after 170 ce. In the first decades after the foundation of the province, the civilian settlement north and south of the legionary fortress grew prosperous. It had a local council, conscripti, that together with the local Roman citizens (cives Romani consistentes kanabis) controlled public money (pecunia publica) and raised honorific statues, mostly for the praefectus castrorum of the local legion (IDR III/5, 438). Two contracts on wax tablets (CIL III, 940–943 = IDR I, TabCerD

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VII, 142 ce, and CIL III, 959 = IDR I, TabCerD VIII, 160 ce) found in the gold-mining region of Alburnus Maior (modern Roşia Montanã, Figure 13.1, 24) were signed and legalized in the canabae of the Thirteenth legion, which shows the importance of this settlement in the second century. South of the legionary fortress, beyond the one leuga (2.2 km) limit of the military territory, a group of Trajanic colonists was settled, forming a district (pagus) of Colonia Dacica Sarmizegetusa. Even in the third century, when Apulum, too, enjoyed colonial status, many notables still mentioned with pride their belonging to the tribe of Trajan, Papiria, assigned to the colonists of Sarmizegetusa. Based on the initial Trajanic street grid (Figure 13.2), the surface of this first settlement was around 12 ha – that is, half the size of Sarmizegetusa. A considerable number of Publii Aelii attested as members of the local élite shows the effect of later immigration on the development of this pagus Apulensis. By the middle of the second century, the street grid covered some 20–30 ha. Around 180 ce, probably under the governor Helvius Pertinax, this pagus gained independence from Sarmizegetusa and became the municipium Aurelium Apulense. Soon after, in Commodus’s reign, the town became Colonia Aurelia Apulensis, and was extended to an area of 75 ha on a differently oriented street grid enclosed by stone walls (Diaconescu and Piso 1993; Diaconescu 2004, 109–112). The canabae south of the fortress were granted municipal rights under Septimius Severus, probably in 197 ce. This municipum Septimium Apulense had a stone circuit wall enclosing some 40 to 50 ha (Diaconescu 2004, 116). A huge cemetery, partially excavated, extends between the two towns of Apulum, Colonia Aurelia and municipium Septimium (Bolog 2017). The canabae north of the fortress continued to exist, and their cemetery on the road to Ampelum (modern Zlatna) has been excavated. These nonautonomous canabae had no precinct walls, so their extent is uncertain. But they add to the intensively inhabited area of ancient Apulum, estimated at 130–150 ha. This makes Apulum the biggest settlement in the middle and lower Danube provinces, comparable only to Carnuntum in Pannonia Superior. In comparison, the largest colony in the region, Sarmizegetusa, even at its peak was only half the size of Apulum, some 50–70 ha, and average towns in the Danube provinces, such as the Hadrianic and Severan municipia (later coloniae), did not exceed 20–30 ha within their walls (the area covered by ruins is irrelevant for this comparison). In order to measure the scale and intensity of Roman-style public life in these urban centers, the number of stone inscriptions is relevant. Apulum leads by far, with 980 inscriptions, followed by Sarmizegetusa with around 600. Other Roman towns of Dacia produced between 140 and 90 inscriptions (Tibiscum 140; Potaissa 120; Ampelum, Drobeta and Porolissum 110; Napoca 90; Romula only 54), and the lower Pannonian and Moesian cities did not have more than that. The cessation of army pay in the last decade of Gallienus’ reign and the departure of the Thirteenth legion for Aurelian’s war against the Palmyrene queen Zenobia, an expedition from which it would never return to Apulum, caused these settlements to plunge into a deep crisis (Diaconescu 2004, 134–137). Two small hoards ending with coins of Aurelian, buried in the governor’s palace at the eve of the fatal expedition, show that recently minted coins still circulated in high administrative circles, but those who buried them were not to return: the Thirteenth was settled south of the Danube after its eastern expedition, and the ruin of Apulum followed soon after.

Sarmizegetusa The forum complex of Colonia Dacica Sarmizegetusa is one of the most spectacular ­archaeological investigations of the last decades (Figure 13.3; Étienne, Piso, and Diaconescu 2004, 2006; Diaconescu 2014). The two fora (Forum Vetus or Forum Traiani, and Forum Novum or Forum Antonini) represent a monumental ensemble emblematic of the entire Dacian ­province, as the Trajanic colony of veterans was the model for other communities.



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Figure 13.3  Colonia Dacica Sarmizegetusa, central area of the colony with forum/macellum, later Forum Vetus/Forum Novum complex. At left, evolution of complex in reconstructions: 1. Trajanic timber forum/macellum (partly excavated). 2. Trajanic stone forum under construction. 3. Early Hadrianic forum/macellum complex. 4. Mid-Antonine Forum Vetus and Forum Novum (with Capitolium). 5. Early Severan Forum Vetus (rebuilt in marble). At right, plan showing all phases. By Alexandru Diaconescu.

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Immediately after the ceremony of foundation of the new colony, the street grid was laid out, and in its midst, in front of the sacred enclosure lodging the groma used to plan the colony, a timber forum was built (Figure 13.3, 1; Étienne, Piso, and Diaconescu 1994). It was a square structure containing an open piazza, surrounded on three sides by porticoes and shops, tabernae. The side opposite the entrance was closed by a monumental basilica, provided with tribunalia and with administrative rooms, including the council hall (curia), archive (tabularium), and various offices in the back. South of this monumental structure, a yard with porticoes must have served as a food market, macellum. This forum-macellum complex was bordered on the south by an east–west street (decumanus) and an insula in which eight private houses have been excavated (only four published so far). Most of them are peristyle houses, with a central colonnaded yard, but there was also a dwelling with an axial corridor and two “strip houses,” with shops in front and a garden in the back (Diaconescu 2010, fig. 5). This is obviously a civilian settlement and not a fortress, despite the involvement of the legion IV Flavia Felix, which provided the labor force and left its mark on the brickstamps, building technique, and even the plan of the timber forum. For instance, the two successive Trajanic and Hadrianic timber headquarters buildings at Gilãu are comparable, if considerably smaller (see Figure 13.4, 1, 1–2, in the section on Gilãu), showing that military and civilian administrative centers (both called fora) were similar in shape and function at the end of the first to beginning of the second century. In fact, their plan goes back as far as the first century bce (Diaconescu 2008). Still in the reign of Trajan, the street grid and insulae were reorganized, with the exception of the main crossing streets, cardo and decumanus maximus, and a wider, more monumental

Figure 13.4  The auxiliary fort at Gilau. This Trajanic small fort of Coh. I Pannoniorum Veterana was enlarged in early Hadrianic times for Ala Siliana C.R. and functioned until the end of the province. At right, details of Headquarters building. Development phases: 1. Trajanic (timber). 2. Hadrianic (timber). 3. Late Antonine to early Severan (stone). 4. Mid-third century (stone). Far right: plan showing all phases. By Alexandru Diaconescu.



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stone structure was built around the old timber forum, which was still in use (Figure 13.3, 2); to the transitional phase belongs a smith’s workshop, where military equipment (finds include a scale armor breastplate and an armguard) was manufactured and repaired. The timber forum was demolished only when the new forum was put into use. Though its building inscription states that it was dedicated in the last years of Trajan (Diaconescu 2006–2007, 2014, 64–65), the new stone forum (Figure 13.3, 3) was finished in detail only at the beginning of Hadrian’s reign. It was again built by soldiers of the Fourth legion, but because of a gap in the dedication inscription it is not clear whether the troop was mentioned. Its plan differs from that of the recently excavated headquarters of the same Fourth legion at Bersobia (Flutur 2001 [2002]), but is of the same block building type common to both military headquarters (Potaissa and Apulum in Dacia, Lambaesis in Numidia) and civic centers (fora at Burnum in Dalmatia, Lopodunum in Germania Superior, Londinium and Venta Silurum/Silchester in Britannia). Sarmizegetusa’s forum had a monumental entrance preceded by a four-columned structure with a central arch. The forum’s central courtyard was surrounded on three sides by porticoes, each flanked on one side by a gallery (cryptoporticus), used in bad weather for the same purpose as the porticoes themselves, as a sort of bazaar. The judicial basilica at the far end also had a monumental appearance, with richly decorated archways and Ionic pilasters (Diaconescu and Bota 2009, 56–61). The architectural decoration is of Anatolian type, probably executed by craftsmen from the Black Sea coast of Moesia Inferior (Diaconescu and Bota 2009, 29–37). In the center of the courtyard, a monument in the shape of a trophy, dedicated to Trajan, was erected by the colony. In fact, the sculptural decoration of the whole forum was meant to extol the victory over the Dacians (Diaconescu and Bota 2009, 235–237). Building continued in the central part of the colony under Hadrian until at least 132 ce, when a new water supply and monumental fountains were finished, and statues for the emperor and Marcius Turbo were erected. South of the forum, a marketplace (macellum) lined with shops was built, this time by the civilian authorities. In the center of its courtyard were two pools for fresh fish and shellfish. Though it had rich decoration, it was built using cheaper materials. In sum, this early Antonine forummacellum complex recalls the plain style of military edifices. A generation later, in the mid-second century, a substantial change occurred: the food market was replaced by a square with a Capitoline temple, actually a second forum, called Forum Novum in opposition to the old one, Forum Vetus (Figure 13.3, 4). Its north side had a monumental cryptoporticus, probably with large glass windows, and there were bath facilities on the west side. The temple was built in local marble, with columns 30 feet (9 m) tall (Piso et al. 2012 was incomplete and contained some inaccuracies; see Diaconescu 2013, 155–163). In the new forum, equestrian statues for the provincial governors were erected, and in time they formed a gallery of bronze riders. Standing statues of prominent members of the local aristocracy were also set up here, but imperial statues, including quadrigae of Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus, continued to be erected in the old, venerable forum of Trajan’s time. Its most respected place was the basilica, where statues of Fortuna Augusta, Minerva Augusta, the Concord and the Genius of the order of decurions, and to the Order of Augustales were dedicated. At the same time, the entrance into the Forum Vetus was rebuilt in marble and lavishly decorated under the guidance of two foremen of the Ephesian-Pergamene school (Diaconescu and Bota 2009, 128–138). The decision to replace structural elements like columns, initially made of local oolithic limestone or even stuccoed and painted sandstone, with marble ones, and to reject rudimentary Tuscan capitals for genuine Corinthian capitals, is typical of the Roman mentality that associated marble with nobility and eternity (Isserlin 1998, esp. 133– 137, for the forum of Silchester). Two inscriptions inform us that the persons who initiated this “marmorization” were ambassadors of Sarmizegetusa sent to Rome for the consular parade (processus consularis) of the former governor of Dacia, M. Sedatius Severianus, on the first of January 154 ce. Such connections to the capital might have inspired the desire for magnificent display that would ultimately increase the dignity and standing of their mother town.

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Sarmizegetusa soon recovered from the destructions during the Marcomannic wars, and the new aristocracy of equestrian rank that emerged in late Antonine to early Severan times continued to improve the colony’s political and religious center (Figure 13.3, 5). For example, they reorganized and, according to inscriptions, provided cult places for the old meeting places of local organizations, such as the guild of craftsmen (collegium fabrum) and probably the imperial cult association (collegium Augustalium) in the Forum Vetus. The whole east wing of the forum on the decumanus maximus was probably attributed to the collegium fabrum. It contained a cult room with an underground strongroom, and a banquet hall with a kitchen and an apse for the semicircular couch of the club leaders. In the rectangular hall, the traces of the long couches (probably the accubitus mentioned in an inscription) were detected. The old outer porticus was repainted, and a veranda, or proporticus, with Corinthian columns carved by a master from Moesia Inferior (Oescus?), was inserted (Diaconescu and Bota 2009, 138–140). Later, under Severus Alexander, the rest of the 45-foot portico was also rebuilt in marble, with Corinthian columns produced in the local workshop (Diaconescu and Bota 2009, 155–156). As revealed by epigraphy and archaeology, this architecture reflects the activities and structure of the collegium fabrum: an aedes for the cult of the Genius of the collegium and the Genii of the fifteen units (decuriae) attested in Sarmizegetusa; a banquet hall for almost thirty people, housing the couches of the prominent members who dined reclining (recumbantes); a veranda with two rows of columns for the simple members who dined sitting at tables (sedentes); and a portico for the pedani, who stood in a row for the distribution of gifts (sportulae). In the opposite corner, an imposing imperial cult room was entirely covered in marble. It contained niches for busts of past emperors, worshipped as divi Augusti, and statues of the sponsors from the equestrian family of Procilii, known from earlier inscriptions as builders of a shrine for the imperial cult worshipers, aedes Augustalium. Reliefs of Liber Pater and the achievements of Hercules completed the decoration (Diaconescu and Bota 2009, 247–262). In front of these clubrooms, flanking the forum’s façade, two monumental artesian fountains, sponsored by another member of the local élite, replaced the old Hadrianic ones. Decorated with statues of Neptune with the Nymphs and Apollo with the Muses (Diaconescu and Bota 2002–2003 [2004], 2009, 149–158, 192–233, 237–246), the new fountains were dedicated to Septimius Severus and his family as domus divina, because of their merits towards Sarmizegetusa. The relations of the local élite to Septimius Severus and then to his son Caracalla were close. It is probable that the aristocracy of the town supported Severus’s ascent and march on Italy with money, and were rewarded with important positions in the army (including the praetorian guard) for their young members serving as junior officers in the two legions in Apulum and Potaissa. Of the twenty-four Dacian praetorians attested in Rome, over half (fourteen) came from Sarmizegetusa, five from Apulum, two each from Napoca and Drobeta, and one from Colonia Malva (Diaconescu 2004, 120–121). The colony also erected several statues of the Severans in the Forum Vetus, including a quadriga for young Caracalla, and rebuilt the porticoes in marble, with very elegant Corinthian capitals made in the local workshop founded two generations earlier by the Greek masters mentioned above (Diaconescu and Bota 2009, 140–149). The Forum Novum had an equally spectacular evolution. Honorific monuments for the provincial governors ceased around 180 ce, but equestrian statues for the leaders of the local aristocracy were raised instead. The biggest competition was for places in the cryptoporticus, where a gallery of standing statues for the élite of Sarmizegetusa gradually emerged. At least two women were honored with statues there, one for being the patron of two of her foster sons (alumni), the other because she was the mother-in-law of a prominent officer promoted in Britain after the victory of Septimius Severus over Albinus. Most of the statues were dedicated by relatives with the agreement of the local council, but some were erected by the colony itself, and those dedicated by a special section of Sarmizegetusa society, the plebeians, are especially significant. This category is typical for Roman/Italic towns, and must have played a key role in



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maintaining the competitive spirit among the local élite. In Sarmizegetusa the plebs were sufficiently well organized to raise money (IDR III/2, 105, 116) for the statues of a member of the decurions (mid-second century) and one of a member of the equestrian order (Severan). The decades-long excavations of the forum complex of Sarmizegetusa show the importance of relating stratigraphy to monumental structures and to finds such as inscriptions and statues. The Trajanic Forum seems a stern building, lacking any architectural imagination, like some British fora. Under Trajan, this was a standard building plan for several communities. The civitas Suebum Nicretum in Lopodunum in Germany must have had such a plan for their monumental structure, though it was never finished, and only a timber hall on the main street was eventually built. The Dalmatians from municipium Burmum completed a similar forum under Trajan and used it, but only one honorific inscription for emperor Hadrian and some Mithraic votive inscriptions were found. In contrast, the veterans’ colony of Sarmizegetusa not only made extensive use of its administrative and religious center, but embellished, enlarged, and improved it. They were perpetuating social structures brought from Italy and deeply Romanized areas, but here they promoted the competition among cities common to eastern communities. A good modern parallel to this was made by Stefan Altekamp (2001) comparing the McDonald’s in Hong Kong and that in Beijing: despite their identical plan and display, the two buildings (or institutions) played different roles and had different identities in their local contexts: the one was just a fast food place, but the other was the very symbol of the desirable American way of life. For the inhabitants of Sarmizegetusa, the forum complex was simply their civic center.

Gilãu The auxiliary fort at Gilãu (Figure 13.1, 37, and Figure 13.4) has been investigated for several decades, and a coherent stratigraphic sequence and chronology have been drawn up (Isac 1997; Isac and Gãzdac 2007). The fort is situated at the confluence of two branches of the Someşul Mic river, 16 km upstream from the colony of Napoca (Figure 13.1, 36): tellingly, three officers of ala Siliana (see below) stationed at Gilãu were also town councilors of Napoca (CIL III, 845, 865). An important salt trail, the modern “Transylvania highway,” led from Potaissa (Figure 13.1, 35) through Gilãu towards the forts at Optatiana (Figure 13.1, 40), on to Porolissum (Figure 13.1, 42), westwards towards the fort at Bologa (Figure 13.1, 38), and beyond to Crişana and the Hungarian plain. It was also possible to go from Gilãu to the mining region of the Western Carpathians. The first fort at Gilãu, 130 × 116 m (Figure 13.4, 1), was founded immediately after Trajan’s conquest of Dacia, and was meant to accommodate an infantry unit, five hundred men strong, probably the cohort I Pannoniorum, attested in Dacia from 110 ce by a military diploma from Porolissum (IDR I, D3). The rampart consisted of two rows of wooden posts and horizontal beams (“Holz-Erde-Mauer”), and three ditches beyond, identified in the area of the west gate, porta decumana, by two rows of three postholes and an extra pillar in front, to the right, and to the left. In the center of the fort was the headquarters building or principia, whose outer wall, courtyard with timber portico, and row of five rooms at back were excavated (Isac, Diaconescu, and Opreanu 1983; Figure 13.4). The central room was larger, obviously the shrine (aedes), flanked by two rooms. These three opened toward a large hall (basilica) whose façade was likely in the unexcavated area; the two end rooms probably did not communicate directly with it. Traces of a timber praetorium (commander’s residence) were also identified (Isac, Hügel, and Andreica 1994, 50–55). In the barrack-blocks, several of the canonical ten sleeping rooms, contubernia, and ten arsenal rooms, armamentaria, preceded by a porticus for food-supplies, iumenta, were found. There were probably six barracks in the praetentura, and four other structures behind the headquarters building must have been stables. The

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barracks on the east side (facing the enemy, according to the terrain) were badly burned, and the abundance of archaeological material indicates a violent action, probably related to the Sarmatian attack in 117 ce. The headquarters and the west side of the fort were not affected. The second phase’s earth and timber fort, considerably longer on the east–west axis than previously (221 × 137.5 m), was founded under Hadrian, when a new cavalry unit, ala Siliana, was transferred to Dacia. The timber defenses were revealed at the south gate (porta principalis dextra) whose passage was divided by two posts and flanked by two trapezoidal towers, each sustained by four posts (Isac, Diaconescu, and Opreanu 1981). The earth rampart and palisade was later provided with a stone wall and the ditches were redug. At a later date, probably in the first decades of the third century, the gate was rebuilt in stone, its two rectangular towers being provided with buttresses along its entrance, which was divided by a central pillar into two passages. The gate was rebuilt twice: the east passage was crossed by a drainage channel and then probably blocked, or used only by pedestrians, while the west remained in use for vehicles. The last repairs could be dated around the mid-third century. A better-dated sequence, not necessarily contemporary with that of the south gate, is offered by the second timber headquarters building (Figure 13.4, 2; Isac, Diaconescu, and Opreanu 1983). It was slightly larger than the previous building, and two corridors were added to separate the side rooms. The basilica and central courtyard fell into the unexcavated area. A front plaque from an equestrian statue of Hadrian erected by the ala Siliana, found reused in the last phase of the barracks, must have originally come from the courtyard or the basilica. In late Antonine times the first stone building, with a similar plan featuring two corridors and an apsidal shrine, was mostly superimposed over the previous one (Figure 13.4, 3). In front of the shrine were two statues, for Caracalla and Julia Domna. They are part of a series of paired statues erected in Dacia after the doubling of the soldiers’ pay by Caracalla, not because of an imperial visit (Diaconescu 2001). The second stone phase, built between the late Severan period and the middle of the third century, is the best preserved (Figure 13.4, 4). The shrine was enlarged and the old apse was transformed into an underground strong room (aerarium). To the north a meeting room (schola), probably for the decuriones of ala Siliana, was provided with a T-shaped hypocaust typical for banquet halls in this region. To the south, another room was heated only by an L-shaped channel of warm air, and could have been the tabularium. This time the six-pillared facade of the basilica was preserved. In the courtyard at least two foundations for equestrian statues were found, but as this area was not completely investigated, no inscribed fragments were found. The praetorium of the fort was also rebuilt several times (Isac, Hügel, and Andreica 1994). It seems that only the stables in the back of the fort (retentura) remained timber-framed, while the barracks in that area were eventually built in stone, again illustrating the continuous improvement of living conditions in the fort at Gilãu. The last phase was particularly rich, showing that during the time of the soldier emperors, the military was prosperous. As in many other sites in Dacia, the coin finds ended at the middle of the third century with Philip the Arab (Isac and Gãzdac 2007, 188), so that there are no documents for the last twenty-five years of the fort at Gilãu.

Alburnus Major The gold-mining complex of Alburnus Maior (modern Roşia Montanã, Figure 13.1, 24) is another spectacular project that has shed new light on Roman Dacia. Since the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, when wax tablets buried in mining galleries abandoned by the Romans were discovered there, every handbook on Roman law has had to mention the various contracts, accounts and notes on the Alburnus Maior tablets (CIL III, 924–959, nos. I-XXV = IDR I, 165–256, TabCerD. I–XXV). The miners, despite being noncitizens, used the Latin language (of over a hundred inscriptions, only one, as yet unpublished, is in



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an Illyrian dialect) and followed Roman law, which indicates a degree of Romanization hardly to be expected in a rural society. The tablets also inflamed the imagination of generations of archaeologists, who wondered how such a settlement would have looked, considering the streets, houses, and places mentioned in the texts: Were the kastella of different Dalmatian ethnic groups fortified places? What was Alburnus Maior, mentioned several times without any specification? The place contained a public square where decrees and announcements were posted, and there were several neighborhoods, such as vicus Pirustarum, belonging to different populations (Pirustae, Baridustae, Sardeates, Delmatae). What did the via publica, or the house described by the purchasing contract of Anduena son of Batus, actually look like? The excavations, some of which were rescue operations in advance of development, were financed by S.C. Rosia Montana Gold Corporation S.A. and started in the year 2000, though they have stopped at this time. They were supervised by the Romanian Ministry of Culture and conducted by around twenty institutions, under the direction of the National Museum of Bucharest and coordinated by Paul Damian. Four monographs have been published so far (Damian 2001 [2010]; Simion, Apostol, and Vleja 2004; Damian 2008; Ciongradi 2009), and others are in preparation, including the report on the Roman mining galleries by Béatrice Cauuet. Though a research plan was not always possible due to development, the central area of the site, on the Carpeni hill, proved to be of great scientific importance. Stone official buildings, some with hypocaust heating systems and including a bathhouse, were brought to light. For the rest of the site, only timber structures on dry stone foundations were discovered, and seven graveyards, each belonging to a specific Dalmatian group and dating from the time of Hadrian to that of Marcus Aurelius and Commodus, were excavated, to a current total of over 1200 cremations. They contained only coarse pottery, simple lamps, a few glass objects and bronze or iron small finds, probably due to specific funerary practices rather than poverty. The burials were on the very steep slopes of hills, and on the narrow hilltops several timber cult buildings were found. They are assembly halls, some with an apse, others with traces of benches for common meals. Obviously each ethnic community enjoyed the privilege of a separate cult area, assembly hall and graveyard, all situated on the same hill. Recently I have tried to reconstruct the assembly hall of such an ethnic association, dedicated to the Genius of the collegium Sardeatum (Figure 13.5; Diaconescu 2008–2009 [2011], 162–167, pls. XVIII–XXII). Though no cult statue was ever recovered in Alburnus Maior, the most spectacular discoveries were more than forty sacrificial altars with Latin inscriptions found in situ; added to others discovered previously, there were a total of ninety-nine altars (Ciongradi 2009, 38–82). They were dedicated to the most popular gods in Roman Dacia, such as Jupiter Optimus et Maximus, Diana, Silvanus, and Hercules, but also to Neptune (protecting miners from being drowned in the galleries), and to Janus, a god specific to the Dalmatians, as well as to the Genii of the different ethnic groups. Their Latin inscriptions mentioned prominent members of each small community, who wanted to commemorate the sacrifices they made to different gods at their own expense. This indicates a degree of literacy among the miners, though not necessarily the ability to write, as the wax tablets were written by professional scribes.

Porolissum As already mentioned, Porolissum (Figure 13.1, 42) was a key point in the defense of northwest Dacia and an unusually complex garrison, housing around three thousand men. This fortification at the extreme edge of the empire is comparable to those at Dura-Europos in Syria and Elephantine and Syene in Egypt. Above all, Porolissum was the main gate connecting northern Dacia to barbaricum, and its prosperity is partly to be explained by intense commercial relations, which expanded mainly after the Marcomannic wars.

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Figure 13.5  Alburnus Maior, assembly hall of Sardeates. Top left: excavated remains. Top right: reconstructed plan and two elevations. Middle left and bottom: artistic reconstructions. By Alexandru Diaconescu, from Diaconescu 2008–2009 (2011) pl. XVIII–XXII.



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A stone amphitheater as big as the one in Sarmizegetusa was built here by the governor of Dacia Porolissensis as early as the middle of the second century. The limits of the Roman Empire were marked by a series of earth and timber walls with ditches, preventing the “barbarians” from grazing their flocks too close to the province; for example, Commodus banned the German tribes of Buri from bringing their herds closer than 7–8 km from the border (Cassius Dio 72.3.1). Under Septimius Severus, a part of the civilian settlement was granted municipal status. The complex geography of this place was recently investigated using noninvasive methods, with impressive results (Opreanu and Lăzărescu 2016). In addition, the recently launched “Limes Project” has added consistent information on the western and northern sector of the limes, which was very well organized. A row of turrets (turres) ran on the ridge of the mountain chain, separating the province from barbaricum. The second line consisted of fortlets, burgi, which had sightline connection to the towers, and blocked the main access valleys. In the third line were the auxiliary forts (castra), which were placed in the lowlands, in the valleys of the Someş and Amlaş rivers. The system was obviously conceived to control both smugglers and shepherds crossing the border (Cociş 2018). Curiously, toward the Eastern Carpathians and the Western Mountains, more difficult to cross, there were no such fortifications. Two recent archaeological discoveries illustrate the interaction in the region of Porolissum between inhabitants on both sides of the limes, a borderline that was far from separating the Roman world from the “barbarian” one. The main imperial road of the province, the via militaris mentioned above, ends on the line of the first rampart. Here a monumental entrance gate into the empire must have been erected, and is to be excavated in the future. Next to it a building, similar to a “mile-castle” of Hadrian’s Wall in Britain, was uncovered. Between this structure and the road was a shrine dedicated to the Genius publicii portorii Illyrici, indicating that the facility belonged to the imperial customs (Piso, Opreanu, and Lăzărescu, 2016). North of it, in “no man’s land,” an open-air market was organized under the supervision of the Roman authorities; the ancient term for such an occasional facility would be nondinium, as attested in North Africa. The site, of impressive size (only half of the estimated surface area of 7000 sq. m has yet been excavated), has produced no less than 129 coins, a lot of brooches, some of definite German origin, plus fine ceramics and glassware. The brooches for children throw a light on the slave commerce, among other transactions, that took place there (Opreanu and Lăzărescu 2015). To my knowledge, this is the first site of this kind ever to be excavated (Diaconescu 2017).

Summary The Roman province of Dacia was the first great achievement of Trajan; it was provincia sua, which was to be forged due to the ambition and will of the great emperor. The intense colonization and militarization of this territory is, on the whole, unprecedented. Thus, it is no wonder that most archaeological research in modern Romania has focused on Roman towns (coloniae and municipia) and on Roman forts and fortresses. Small towns, villages, and hamlets, which were considered to produce less archaeological material, were avoided. In the case of villas, only the main buildings were excavated. After 1990, a new generation of archaeologists started posing new questions about environment and landscape in Roman Dacia. Insufficent financing has obstructed serious excavation projects on rural sites (for which, see Oltean 2004), but thanks to geophysical and other noninvasive methods, a better image of the Roman province Dacia can now be sketched.

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Biographical Note The late Alexandru Diaconescu was professor at the Department of Ancient History and Archaeology, Faculty of History and Philosophy, Babeş-Bolyai University, Cluj-Napoca, Romania. His fellow-collaborators on this volume deeply regret his passing before he could see this work come to fruition.

Abbreviations CIL = Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum. 1823–. Edited by Deutsche Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin. Paris: A. Franck. IDR = Inscriptiones Daciae Romanae. 1975. Edited by I.I. Russu. Bucureşti: Editura Academiei Republicii Socialiste România. TabCerD = Tabellae Ceratae Dacicae. Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum. 1873. Edited by Theodor Mommsen. 921–958. Berlin: apud G. Reimerum.

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Diaconescu, Alexandru. 2008. “A Case of Hellenistic Influence on Roman Architecture. Military Headquarters and Civilian Forums.” Ephemeris Napocensis, 18: 57–73. Diaconescu, Alexandru. 2008–2009 (2011). “Temples of Ethnic Communities (Assembly Halls) in Roman Dacia. An Architectural Prospective.” Acta Musei Napocensis, 45–46, no. 1: 135–192. Diaconescu, Alexandru. 2010. “Urme ale centuriaţiei la Sarmizegetusa şi în teritoriul său (I).” Sargetia, 1, Serie Nouă: 133–162. Diaconescu, Alexandru. 2013. Forurile Sarmizegetusei: O Plimbare Imaginară Prin Centrul Politicoadministrativ Al Micii Rome De La Poalele Retezatului. Cluj-Napoca: Editura Mega. Diaconescu, Alexandru. 2017. “Review of Opreanu and Lăzărescu 2015.” Ephemeris Napocensis, 27: 291–293. Diaconescu, Alexandru, and Ioan Piso. 1993. “Apulum.” In La politique édilitaire dans les provinces de l’Empire romain, IIème-IVème siècles après J.-C.: Actes du 1er Colloque Roumano-Suisse, Deva, 1991, edited by Dorin Alicu and Hans Boegli, 67–83. Cluj-Napoca: Musée d’histoire de la Transilvanie. Diaconescu, Alexandru, and Emilian Bota. 2002–2003 (2004). “La décoration architectonique et sculpturale du ‘forum vetus’ Sarmizegetusa: origine, évolution et chronologie.” Acta Musei Napocensis, 39–40, no. 1: 155–196. Diaconescu, Alexandru, and Emilian Bota. 2009. Le forum de Trajan à Sarmizegetusa. Architecture et sculpture. Cluj-Napoca: Mega. Étienne, Robert, Ioan Piso, and Alexandru Diaconescu. 1994. “Le forum en bois de Sarmizegetusa (Roumanie).” Comptes rendus de l’Academie des Inscriptions et Belles Lettres, 1994: 147–164. Étienne, Robert, Ioan Piso, and Alexandru Diaconescu. 2002–2003 (2004). “Les fouilles dans le ‘forum vetus’ de Sarmizegetusa. Rapport général.” Acta Musei Napocensis, 39–40, no. 1: 59–154. Étienne, Robert, Ioan Piso, and Alexandru Diaconescu. 2006. “L’Archéologie (Le Rapport archéologique).” In Le forum vetus de Sarmizegetusa I, edited by Ioan Piso, 41–210. Bucureşti/Paris: Editura Academiei Române/Diffusion De Boccard. Florea, Gelu. 2011. Dava et oppidum. Débuts de la genèse urbaine en Europe au deuxième âge du Fer. Cluj-Napoca: Academia Română, Centrul de Studii Transilvane. Flutur, Alexandru. 2001 (2002). “Săpăturile arheologice din principia castrului legionar de la Bersobis – 2000–2001.” Analele Banatului (S.N.), 9: 131–146. Fodorean, Florin. 2013. The Topography and the Landscape of Roman Dacia. British Archaeological Reports International Series 2501. Oxford: Archaeopress. Gudea, Nicolae, and Thomas Lobüscher. 2006. Dacia. Eine römische Provinz zwischen Karpaten und Schwarzem Meer. Mainz: Philipp von Zabern. Hanson, William S., and Ian P. Haynes, eds. 2004. Roman Dacia. The Making of a Provincial Society. Journal of Roman Archaeology Suppl. 56. Portsmouth, RI: Journal of Roman Archaeology. Haynes, Ian P., and William S. Hanson. 2004. “An Introduction to Roman Dacia.” In Roman Dacia. The Making of a Provincial Society, edited by William S. Hanson and Ian P. Haynes, Journal of Roman Archaeology Suppl. 56, 11–31. Portsmouth, RI: Journal of Roman Archaeology. Isac, Dan. 1997. Die Kohorten- und Allenkastelle von Gilãu. Zalãu: I. Ardealu. Isac, Dan, Alexandru Diaconescu, and Coriolan Opreanu. 1981. “Porta principalis dextra a castrului de la Gilãu.” Acta Musei Napocensis, 18: 85–97. Isac, Dan, Alexandru Diaconescu, and Coriolan Opreanu. 1983. “Principia castrului de la Gilãu.” Acta Musei Napocensis, 20: 85–101. Isac, Dan, and Cristian Gãzdac. 2007. The Auxiliary Forts from SAMVM (Cãşeiu) and Gilãu. Coins from Roman sites and collections of Roman coins from Romania IV, edited by Cristian Gãzdac. ClujNapoca: Mega. Isac, Dan, Peter Hügel, and Dan Andreica. 1994. “Praetoria in dakischen Militärlagern.” Saalburg Jahrbuch, 7: 40–64. Isserlin, Raphael M. J. 1998. “A Spirit of Improvement? Marble and the Culture of Roman Britain.” In Cultural Identity in the Roman Empire, edited by R. Laurence and J. Berry, 125–155. London: Routledge. Lockyear, Kris. 2004. “The Late Iron Age Background of Roman Dacia.” In Roman Dacia. The Making of a Provincial Society, edited by William S. Hanson and Ian P. Haynes, Journal of Roman Archaeology Suppl. 56, 33–74. Portsmouth, RI: Journal of Roman Archaeology.

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Mócsy, András. 1974. Pannonia and Upper Moesia: A History of the Middle Danube Provinces of the Roman Empire. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Nemeth, Eduard. 2005. Die Armee im Südwesten des römischen Dakien. Timişoara: Editura Mirton. Nemeth, Eduard. 2007. Politische und militärische Beziehungen zwischen Pannonien und Dakien in der Römerzeit. Cluj-Napoca: Editura Tribuna. Nemeti, Sorin. 2014. Finding Arcobadara. Essay on the Geography and Administration of Roman Dacia. Cluj-Napoca: Mega. Oltean, Ioana A. 2004. “Rural Settlement in Roman Dacia.” In Roman Dacia. The Making of a Provincial Society, edited by William S. Hanson and Ian P. Haynes, Journal of Roman Archaeology Suppl. 56, 143–164. Portsmouth, RI: Journal of Roman Archaeology. Oltean, Ioana A. 2007. Dacia. Landscape, Colonisation, Romanisation. London: Routledge. Opreanu, Coriolan Horaţiu. 1998. Dacia romanã şi barbaricum. Timişoara: Editura Mirton. Opreanu, Coriolan H., Vlad A. Lăzărescu, and Radu Ardevan. 2015. A Roman Frontier Marketplace at Porolissum in the Light of Numismatic Evidence. Contribution to the Knowledge of the Roman Limes Economy. Cluj-Napoca/Zalău: Mega/Editura Caiete Silvane. Opreanu, Coriolan H., and Vlad A. Lăzărescu. 2016. Landscape Archaeology on the Northern Frontier of the Roman Empire at Porolissum. An Interdisciplinary Research Project. Cluj Napoca: Mega. Petolescu, Constantin C. 1995. Scurtã istorie a Daciei romane. Bucureşti: Editura Didactică şi Pedagogică. Piso, Ioan. 1993. Fasti provinciae Daciae, I. Die senatorischen Amtsträger. Bonn: Habelt. Piso, Ioan. 2013. Fasti provinciae Daciae, II. Die ritterlichen Amtsträger. Bonn: Habelt. Piso, Ioan, Felix Marcu, Ovidiu Ţentea, George Cupcea, and Rada Varga. 2012. “Das Kapitol von Sarmizegetusa.” Dacia. Revue d’archéologie et d’histoire ancienne, 56: 119–123. Piso, Ioan, Coriolan H. Opreanu, and Vlad A. Lăzărescu. 2016. “Das Heiligtum des Zollstation von Porolissum.” Zeitschrift fùr Papyrologie und Epigraphik, 200: 544–548. Protase, Dumitru. 1994. “Siebenbürgen in der Römerzeit.” In Siebenbürgen zur Zeit der Römer und der Völkerwanderung, edited by Wolfgang Schuller, Siebenbürgisches Archiv, 3, no. 29: 41–70. Cologne: Böhlau. Ruscu, Dan. 1999. “Das Verteidigungssystem Dakiens in frühantoninischer Zeit.” In Roman Frontier Studies: Proceedings of the XVIIth International Congress of Roman Frontier Studies, 1997: Zalău, Romania, edited by Nicolae Gudea, 477–484. Zalău: The County Council of Sălaj, The County Museum of History and Art Zalău: Porolissum. Ruscu, Dan. 2003. Provincia Dacia în istoriografia anticã. Cluj-Napoca: Editura Nereamia Napocae. Ruscu, Dan. 2004. “The Supposed Extermination of the Dacians: The Literary Tradition.” In Roman Dacia. The Making of a Provincial Society, edited by William S. Hanson and Ian P. Haynes, Journal of Roman Archaeology Suppl. 56, 75–85. Portsmouth, RI: Journal of Roman Archaeology. Simion, Mihaela, Virgil Apostol, and Decebal Vleja. 2004. Alburnus Maior II. The Circular Funeral Monument. Bucharest: National History Museum of Romania. Stefan, Alexandre Simion. 2005. Les guerres daciques de Domitien et de Trajan: architecture militaire, topographie, images et histoire. Collection de l’Ecole française de Rome 353. Rome: École Francaise de Rome. Syme, Ronald. 1962. “The Wrong Marcius Turbo.” Journal of Roman Studies, 52: 87–92. Vetters, Wolfgang, and Heinrich Zabehlicky. 2004. “Eine Klimakatastrophe um 200 n.Chr. und ihre archäologische Nachweisbarkeit.” Forum Archaeologiae 30/III/2004 (http://farch.net, consulted 14 Sept. 2022). Zahariade, Mihail, and Traian Dvorski. 1997. The Lower Moesian Army in Northern Wallachia (A.D. 101–118). An Epigraphical and Historical Study on the Brick and Tile Stamps Found in the Drajna de sus Roman Fort. Bucharest: SYLVI.

CHAPTER 14

Dalmatia Dino Demicheli

Introduction The Roman province of Dalmatia (Figure 14.1) was one of the most important in the empire, in terms of its geostrategic position. Its closeness to Italia and the Adriatic Sea, its natural resources, and the peace that reigned during most of the time of the Roman Empire enabled Dalmatia to become a prosperous and important province, especially in its coastal area. Some scholars misconstrue Dalmatia as a Danubian province, due to the understanding of “Dalmatia” as a geographical term inseparable from “Illyricum,” since it, along with Pannonia, made up the former province of Illyricum. Dalmatia should also not be considered a Balkan province, because this Roman territorial organization cannot be explained using a term that did not exist in antiquity, such as “the Balkans.” In fact, more than 80% of the important Dalmatian cities were on or near the sea, trade generally went from and to the coastal area, and the majority of its population lived in the part with a Mediterranean climate. Although the territory of Dalmatia did not form a geographically unified area, for these reasons it is most appropriate to consider Dalmatia an Adriatic, or in a broader sense, a Mediterranean province. Due to the long-lasting wars in its territory, Dalmatia was established as a province relatively late, after 9 ce, but once it had become a province, the period of Roman civilization in Dalmatia lasted to the seventh century.

Research and Publication Scholarly interest in the study of Roman Dalmatia (also known as Delmatia) increased after Mommsen’s edition of Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum vol. III (CIL 3), which included Dalmatian inscriptions. Almost all the major sites were recognized at the end of the nineteenth century and the beginning of the twentieth, seen mostly through the unceasing

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 1, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

Figure 14.1  Map of Dalmatia, by John Wallrodt.



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efforts of Frane Bulić (Salona and its surrounding area) and Karl Patsch (mostly Bosnia and Herzegovina), who published numerous excavation and epigraphic reports. Since then there have been many important studies regarding the special aspect of the Roman presence in Dalmatia, but the major syntheses on Dalmatian population and cities were based mostly on ancient sources and epigraphic evidence (Alföldy 1965; Wilkes 1969). Only recently has a monograph on Dalmatia based on information from archaeological excavations, written sources, and epigraphy been published (Sanader 2009). Since the end of the nineteenth century, thousands of sites with remnants of the Roman presence in Dalmatia have been found. It should be noted, however, that scholars were more interested in the archaeology of Dalmatia’s coast, where all the important Roman cities were founded or promoted from peregrine settlement to Roman town during the early Principate. Several sites in Dalmatia have long histories of excavation, but the best-explored is the provincial capital, Salona, although it is estimated that the area examined is less than 30%. The material from Salona is immense, and has been published over a period of more than a century in journal articles and monographs (e.g., Marin and Vickers 2002). The finds from the deeper provincial interior are mostly published in periodicals, but in recent times syntheses have started to appear on the finds and architecture of specific areas (e.g., Busuladžić 2011, 2014). There are also hundreds of underwater sites, confirming the frequent maritime trading and transport activities on the eastern Adriatic (Jurišić 2000).

Dalmatia and Illyricum – Physical and Political Geography Today the geographical term Dalmatia means only the central part of the Croatian coast, while Roman Dalmatia stretched over a much larger area, occupying parts of present-day Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Montenegro, Serbia, Kosovo, and Albania. The province can be divided into two clearly distinct geographical areas: one along the coast, with its Mediterranean maritime characteristics and climate; the other the mountainous interior, karstic relief with deep valleys and rivers, covered with primeval forests. Its borders were not defined by some visible natural characteristic, so its border with Pannonia is only presumed. The province of Dalmatia stretched from the Adriatic Sea in the south to the edges of the Pannonian Plain in the north, from the Julian Alps and Istrian peninsula in the west to the Drina, Mat, and Ibar rivers to the east. The maritime strip, including over a thousand islands and reefs, is divided from the interior by the ­massif of the Dinaric Mountains, which, rising at places to more than 2000 m, forms a nearly impassable barrier from coast to inland. The rivers flowing into the Adriatic Sea and their estuaries have made the neighboring land very fertile, especially those fields related to the rivers Cetina (ancient Hippus), Krka (Titius), Zrmanja (Tedanius), and Neretva (Naro), but there are also fertile areas around many rivers in the interior, as well as many mountain plains providing good pasture, which was most important for the indigenous population. Roman Dalmatia cannot be explained without reference to Illyricum, of which Dalmatia was once part. The area of Illyricum was populated by Indo-Europeans whose cultural and ethnic diversity was emphasized through the creation of various material culture complexes during the Late Bronze and Iron Ages. Despite the fact that this whole area was named after the Illyrians, they were not a single population, but a group of peoples with close cultural and linguistic characteristics over a vast area. From the results of an epigraphic-onomastic survey, one can discern three groups of languages with certain mutual similarities in the area of Illyricum (Katičić 1976, 196).

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Before the Romans came to the eastern Adriatic, there was one group that formed the core of the old Illyrian kingdom on the border with Macedonia, but their kingdom stretched over a far smaller area. According to Pomponius Mela (2.55) and Pliny the Elder (Natural History 3.144), the Romans knew that people who could be described as the Illyrii proprie dicti (the Illyrians properly so-called) had lived in the southeastern part of Illyricum. So, regardless of the fact that they gave their name to a far greater area, due to their cultural and linguistic similarities to their neighbors, it is more correct to call the inhabitants of Illyricum in Roman times “the peoples of Illyricum,” rather than “the Illyrians.” The ancient sources report that many peoples and indigenous communities lived in Dalmatia, but they had never been united as a state. The more the Romans intruded, the more their cultural and ethnic identities decreased, and many smaller indigenous communities were either assimilated by the larger ones or disappeared in the course of, and soon after, the Bellum Batonianum (Dalmatian-Pannonian rebellion, 6–9 ce). There is no record of any Roman military invasion of Illyricum until the First Illyrian War, between the Romans and the Ardiaean queen Teuta, which lasted from 229 to 228 bce. That war was just the beginning of Roman expansion toward Illyricum, which would only come under Roman authority more than two centuries later.

Delmatae and Liburni Dalmatia was named after the Delmatae (or Dalmatae) people, who lived in today’s central Dalmatian hinterland and in western Herzegovina. Excluding the maritime strip, their area could be delineated by the rivers Krka and Neretva. It is a karstic relief area favorable for semi-nomadic pastoral populations. Like most of the indigenous people in Illyricum, the Delmatae had lived in hillforts, a traditional type of settlement during the Bronze and Iron Ages. Their well-established system of hillforts on the hard-to-access terrain made the Delmatae a very difficult military target for all Roman offensive operations (Dzino 2010, 40). This is shown by the correspondence between Cicero and the proconsul of Illyricum, P. Vatinius, who described how much trouble he had had fighting the Delmatae, who had twenty oppida and sixty more that they had taken over (Letters to Friends 5.10a, 10b). From 156 bce on, there were several Roman campaigns against the Delmatae, which did not always turn out in Rome’s favor. The Liburni should be regarded as separate from the other peoples of Illyricum. Their anthroponymy, attested in Roman times, showed more connection to the Histrian and Venetic population than to those in their neighborhood, such as the Delmatae (Katičić 1976, 179). One of the most recent hypotheses is that they came from Anatolia or Asia Minor between the twelfth and tenth centuries bce (Zaninović 2015, 35–52), which is hard to confirm without more connecting evidence. A predominantly seafaring people, the Liburni made contact with the western Adriatic coast at the beginning of the Iron Age, especially with Apulia and Picenum, where Liburnian material has been found (Suić 1953); but Pliny (Natural History 3.110) mentioned that only the city of Truentum in Picenum remained of the Liburnian presence in Italia in his time. Their power on the Adriatic could be one of the reasons why this part of the Mediterranean was not colonized more by the Greeks before the beginning of the fourth century bce. As their predominance in the Adriatic decreased, the Liburnian area of control in Illyricum was reduced to the part between the rivers Raša (ancient Arsia) and Krka (Titius). In Roman times their part of Dalmatia was called Liburnia, and those inhabitants who lived near the sea remained capable shipbuilders and seafarers. During his campaign in Illyricum (35–33 bce), Octavian had no great trouble with the Liburni, and Agrippa defeated them in a sea battle, capturing their swift, maneuverable ships.



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These ships, along with their Liburnian crews, participated in the battle of Actium, and according to Vegetius (Epitome of Military Science 4.33) their ships and naval skills weighed heavily in Octavian’s favor in the outcome. When he reorganized the Roman navy, Augustus introduced an enhanced Liburnian type of ship, called the liburna, as a standard vessel in the fleet (see Carlson, “The Sea,” chapter 2 of this volume).

Provincial Organization In Roman historiography, the terms Illyricum and Dalmatia existed in parallel from the first century bce. As mentioned, Dalmatia in the broader sense was part of Illyricum, although neither Illyricum nor Dalmatia (at their full extent) was in Roman possession prior to the end of the Bellum Batonianum in 9 ce. In accordance with the lex Vatinia, Roman Illyricum was established as an attachment to Cisalpine Gaul, and Caesar was given proconsular imperium over it from 58 bce. During that period, the real administrative status of Illyricum is unknown, but between 33 and 29 bce, Illyricum was a senatorial province run by a proconsul appointed by the Senate (Dzino 2010, 119). Due to continued unrest, however, Illyricum was made an imperial province in 11 bce. After 9 ce, when the Romans fully conquered Illyricum, its vast extent was divided into two parts: Dalmatia (Upper Illyricum) in the south, and Pannonia (Lower Illyricum) in the north. From Augustus to Gallienus, Dalmatia was an imperial province administered by nobles of the senatorial class who bore the title of legatus Augusti pro praetore. The governor most influential in forming the infrastructure of the province was P. Cornelius Dolabella (14–20 ce), under whom the most important roads that led from the provincial capital, Salona, to the interior of the province were built. The land-allocation disputes among the peregrine communities were resolved during Dolabella’s government, and boundary stones were set up to mark their borders (Wilkes 1974). One inscription (ILJug 874) documents that Dolabella created the cadastral survey of the province (forma Dolabelliana), probably in the form of a map kept in Salona. Although there is no direct evidence, it seems that just as the provincial borders were being defined, probably during Augustus’s reign, the province’s judicial administration was also divided into three assize districts (conventus iuridici). Dalmatia was one of the few provinces (others included Hispania and Asia) so divided. This organization seems to have been complete by the time of Vespasian, as Pliny (Natural History 3.142) wrote that the seats of these three conventus were in Scardona, Salona, and Narona. Any legal problem that could not be resolved in the courts of the peregrine civitates was addressed by the provincial governor when he toured those centers. In the Dalmatian province, this conventus organization is also associated with the imperial cult within the regions, especially in the territory of Liburnia (Jadrić and Miletić 2008; see below). A recent epigraphic discovery revealed the actual name of the conventus that included the territory of Liburnia and Iapodia, the conventus Liburnorum (Demicheli 2015). This conventus had privileges distinct from those of the conventus Salonitanus and conventus Naronitanus, which were listed in decuriae, groups reduced to kinship communities, from which a certain number of men probably had to be given for recruitment into the army. But both the Liburni and the Iapodes were Roman allies during the conquest of Illyricum, and the cohors Liburnorum (ILJug 208), which fought for the Romans against the other indigenous peoples, was raised from there. The Romans rewarded Liburnian loyalty by giving them certain legal privileges, not forcing them to enroll in the army and by founding many cities in their territory.

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In their early phase of urbanization, the peregrine civitates and castella did not have the same administration as the Roman towns. After the Bellum Batonianum, the native communities remained under direct military rule, usually by an appointed senior legionary centurion bearing the title praefectus civitatis. From the Flavian period, the chiefs of the peregrine settlements (principes) were chosen by the native aristocracy. Though Dalmatia’s provincial boundaries remained unchanged up to Diocletian’s reorganization of the provinces, during the last few decades of the second century and the beginning of the third there was a procuratorial province of Liburnia, as attested on CIL 3.1919, the famous inscription of L. Artorius Castus, a Dalmatian military commander who held the post of procurator provinciae Lib(urniae) with ius gladii. This province was most likely established for the protection of Italia, and was included in the defensive system praetentura Italiae et Alpium during the war with the Marcomanni and Quadi (Medini 1980, 367–441).

The Army in Dalmatia There is no information about the legions and cohorts residing in Dalmatia at the time of Octavian’s campaigns (35–33 bce) or up to the Bellum Batonianum. The most important units documented by inscriptions from the first half of the first century are the Seventh and Eleventh Legions, which resided in the fortresses of Tilurium and Burnum respectively. Their fortresses were built on hills above the important Dalmatian rivers Krka and Cetina. Each legion is attested by over a hundred epigraphic monuments, and their inscriptions have been discovered throughout the province, especially in the territory of their fortresses and in the city of Salona. Once these legions left Dalmatia, the cohors VIII voluntariorum civium Romanorum (and perhaps some others), previously located in nearby Andetrium, came to Tilurium. Legions VIII Augusta (69–70 ce) and then IV Flavia felix came to Burnum, but only stayed until 86 ce. After their departure, Dalmatia remained a province without a legionary presence, but there were several permanent auxiliary units: beside cohors VIII mentioned above, there were cohors I Belgarum, cohors III Alpinorum, and from 170 ce the cohortes I et II Delmatarum miliariae. Many other cohorts resided in Dalmatia for shorter periods, according to inscriptions (Alföldy 1987). During the second and third centuries, legionaries detached from their stations in neighboring provinces were employed in the governor’s office in Salona or in beneficiary posts along the main roads of Dalmatia, as confirmed by altars set up by the legionary beneficiaries themselves (Glavaš 2016). Dalmatia was a recruitment zone for soldiers who served in auxiliary troops (particularly navy) throughout the empire, as is abundantly attested by epigraphic monuments found outside Dalmatia (Demicheli 2012).

Fortresses, Forts, and Veteran Settlements The most important military sites in Dalmatia are Tilurium (modern Gardun) and Burnum (Ivoševci). These were legionary fortresses, but due to their smaller size (10–12 ha), they are dissimilar from the better known Julio-Claudian fortresses on the Rhine. At both Tilurium and Burnum, a large number of artifacts have been found, including kitchenware, glass, fibulae, parts of military equipment, and other items of everyday use, mostly of the first century (Šimić-Kanaet 2010; Glavičić 2011; Borzić 2013; Sanader et al. 2014; Jadrić-Kučan, Zaninović 2015).



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According to current research, the fortress at Tilurium was built in stone from at least the Claudian period; no earlier stone phase has been recognized so far (Sanader and Tončinić 2014, 79–80). Nevertheless, archaeological finds suggest that the military presence at Tilurium dated back to the Augustan period. Most of the material found so far dates to the first century, but some parts of the fortress confirm phases of construction and material that can be dated to the second and third centuries and even later. The fortress had its own stonemasonry and brick workshops, attested by a series of funerary monuments and brick stamps bearing the name of the Seventh Legion (Tončinić 2011). Besides its distinctive tombstones, the most important piece of work made in a Tilurium workshop in the early first century ce is a tropaeum, a fragment of which was found in the fortress. From combined excavation and remote-sensing methods, some typical military architecture has been found or presumed to exist: barracks, water tower, cisterns, headquarters (principia), amphitheater, ramparts, and towers. The excavations have revealed a series of interesting constructional details: since the fortress was built on uneven ground, the slopes were corrected by filling the substructures with stones and leveling the terrain (Sanader and Tončinić 2014, 79–80). Impressions of massive timber beams built into the fortification wall are recognizable in places on the western rampart. The outer walls of the barracks were supported by counterforts, and wooden beams were built into the walls here as well, with those visible on the wall face interconnected with beams set vertically through the walls. In the central part of the fortress was a mosaic pavement with at least two phases, which is unusual for military architecture (Sanader and Tončinić 2010, 51–52). In the area around Tilurium, over a hundred epigraphic monuments have been found, both military and civilian, mainly dated to the first two centuries ce. The civilian tombstones confirm the existence of a civilian settlement nearby, probably situated to the south of the fortress. The military fortress at Burnum was developed on a plateau above the River Krka (ancient Titius) in the territory of the Liburnian peregrine community, the Burnistae, whose settlement was located opposite the fortress. As at Tilurium, classic and remote-sensing archaeological methods have combined to reveal principia, amphitheater, aqueduct, roads, civilian settlements (canabae), and some other buildings whose purposes are, for now, only assumed. The stone phase of the fortress at Burnum is dated to the first quarter of the first century, but there was a military presence earlier, as shown by temporary forts (castra aestiva) (Miletić 2010, 120–124). The amphitheater is dated by a building inscription to the time of Vespasian, but finds suggest a first phase in Claudius’s reign (Glavičić 2011). In addition, aerial photography has detected a smaller military facility, most likely a camp for auxiliary troops, in Burnum’s vicinity. The Fourth Legion left the camp in 86, but a civilian settlement close to the camp was raised to the status of municipium and continued until late antiquity, while the camp itself gained some civilian facilities (Miletić 2010, 139–141). Apart from these legionary fortresses, there were several smaller forts for auxiliary troops, mostly on the limes Delmaticus, a hypothetical defensive line against the Delmatae that stretched from Burnum to Bigeste (in present-day Croatia and Bosnia and Herzegovina). Some camps were located or assumed to have stood on this line of more than 150 km (e.g., Bojanovski 1988, 120–121; Šašel Kos 2005, 469–470; Periša 2008; Glavaš 2016), but systematic archaeological excavations have only been conducted at the military facility in Gračine (ancient Bigeste) near Narona (Dodig 2011). Considering the intensity of the wars starting in the second century bce and the number of legions and auxiliary troops in this part of Illyricum, there should have been dozens of temporary seasonal and siege camps erected not just along this line, but deeper in the Dalmatian interior. Some of the most significant raids against the Delmatae, such as the campaigns of Figulus, Nasica, and Vatinius, were begun from Narona, and we know that there were Roman troops at castra

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Narona from the correspondence between Cicero and Vatinius, a proconsul in Illyricum in 45–44 bce (Cicero, Letters to Friends 5.9–11). Since these camps were not built of stone, there are not many recognizable remains, although more results may be expected from remote-sensing methods. Permanent forts should have been built around 170 ce for the cohortes I et II Delmatarum miliariae in the provincial interior, but their locations are still unconfirmed (Cesarik and Glavaš 2017). The remains of one fort have been excavated near Doboj in northern Bosnia, and this is the best documented military complex in northern Dalmatia; finds there date from the first to fourth centuries, and it was probably built for the protection of the Dalmatian mines (Čremošnik 1984). There are numerous other structures in central and northern Dalmatia interpreted as military facilities protecting the mines (Čremošnik 1990, 357). In Tarsatica, in northern Liburnia, was a structure of the second half of the third century recognized as a military headquarters (principia) (Radić-Štivić, Bekić, and Majurić 2009). According to inscriptions found in the area of Narona, there was a settlement (pagus Scunasticus, ILJug 113, 114) for discharged legionary veterans there at the time of Tiberius. In addition, according to Pliny (Natural History 3.141), the emperor Claudius settled veterans in Siculi, a town between Tragurium and Salona. Its position is attested not only by inscriptions of the veterans of the Seventh Legion, but also by recent archaeological excavations of the town, which existed from Hellenistic times into late antiquity (Kamenjarin and Šuta 2011). The only Dalmatian town yet known to have been planned as a veteran colony was Colonia Claudia Aequum. It was established during the reign of Claudius or Nero, mostly with discharged veterans of the Seventh Legion, whose fortress at Tilurium (see above) was about 15  km to the southeast. It seems that the military presence was associated with the first century, since the veteran colony developed into a civilian town afterward. All these veteran settlements were built in fertile areas with plenty of agricultural opportunities.

Road System After the Bellum Batonianum (6–9 ce), the most crucial factor for military strategy and provincial cohesion was the road system established all over Illyricum. One of the most important preexisting roads was that from Aquileia and Dyrrachium, which ran the length of the entire Dalmatian coast. A wide-ranging military road system was added during the governorship of P. Cornelius Dolabella (14–20 ce), as shown by the so-called tabulae Dolabellae, four inscribed panels giving the names of the roads, their destinations and lengths (more than 550  miles) built by the Seventh and Eleventh Legions (CIL 3.3198–3201). Salona was the caput viarum, and five major roads led from the capital, connecting the coast with the provincial interior and Pannonia. All these roads have been confirmed archaeologically, and many sections of Dolabella’s system are still in use, since the directions were very carefully and logically chosen. Recent archaeological discoveries have not modified the identifications proposed by Ivo Bojanovski more than forty  years ago (Bojanovski 1974): a road from Salona to the river Vrbas; a Via Gabiniana connecting Salona with the legionary fortresses at Tilurium and Burnum; a road continuing the Via Gabiniana beyond Burnum to the foot of mons Ulcirus in the territory of the Ditiones; a road from Salona to central eastern Dalmatia terminating at Hedum castellum Daesitiatium; and a road between Salona and the territory of the Pannonian Breuci. Many secondary roads were added to Dolabella’s road system in later years, so the whole province was very well connected.



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According to the milestones, the roads were continuously maintained and repaired, although some of them probably fell into disuse after the majority of the army had left Dalmatia. More than 260 milestones have been found along the Dalmatian roads (CIL 17.4.2), some of which were found and are still in situ. During the last two decades, archaeological evidence has increasingly revealed new sections of Dalmatian roads, especially in the territory of Liburnia (Miletić 2006).

Urbanism In the period from Caesar to the beginning of the third century there were around seventy cities in Roman Dalmatia, making it one of the most urbanized provinces in the Roman Empire. Generally speaking, the great majority of these cities were situated by the sea, but the densest urbanized area was in the territory of Liburnia, where all the towns had been founded before the end of the first century. The process of urbanization began on the coast, where the earliest Italic settlers arrived in the second and first centuries bce. Epidaurum, Narona, Salona, Iader, and Lissus had communities of Roman citizens (conventus civium Romanorum), which were the precursors of later Roman cities (Wilkes 2003, 231). The first Roman cities founded on the eastern Adriatic coast were mainly in areas that had already been settled by locals or by Greeks. There are two phases of urbanization in Roman Dalmatia, in distinct locations. The first encompassed colonies founded on or near the coast and indigenous communities reorganized as Roman municipalities during the Julio-Claudian era. In the second phase, from Flavian to Antonine times, the indigenous communities transformed into municipalities were mainly in the hinterland. After Caesar’s and Octavian’s battles in Illyricum, they rewarded the cities and communities that had been their allies: Salona, Epidaurum, and Narona became colonies under Caesar, and Iader (modern Zadar) under Octavian by at latest 30 bce. In contrast, Issa had supported Pompey, and thus lost its independence as a prosperous city and remained oppidum civium Romanorum. These colonies, developed from the conventus civium Romanorum, were placed at regular intervals on sea routes and thus had both geopolitical and military importance, providing a logistic network for the traffic along the coast (Matijašić 2018, 73). Most of the cities in Liburnia are regarded as Augustan foundations. In the southern part of Dalmatia, cities such as Olcinium, Risinium, and Scodra probably received new settlers under Octavian/Augustus, as Pliny (Natural History 3.144) also called them oppida civium Romanorum. It should be mentioned that all of these cities in Liburnia, and some in southern Dalmatia, were situated on the coast and had harbors, so they may have played some role in the course of Octavian’s campaigns (Šašel Kos 2012, 100). In founding cities on the Dalmatian coast, the Romans made one of the most conspicuous changes in the agricultural landscape. City planning included centuriation, surveying land outside the city that was taken from the indigenous population after the conquest, dividing it into a grid of allotments, and allocating it to the settlers (newcomers, mostly from Italia, and veterans) (Zaninović 1977, 779). Four Roman colonies, Iader, Salona, Narona, and Epidaurum, were on the Dalmatian coast, while Aequum, Scodra, and Domavia were in the hinterland. Colonia Claudia Aequum is one of the few Dalmatian cities founded in an area not previously urbanized, but immediately developed as a veteran colony (see above). The other two cities, Scodra and Domavia, reached colonial status later than Aequum, probably in the second or third century. Domavia, as administrative center of the mining area called the Argentaria, was one of the most important cities in the Dalmatian northeast.

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Town planning and architecture in Roman Dalmatia reflect the standard traits and forms known elsewhere in the empire, though adapted to the geographic situation of the future city. An orthogonal layout of streets was possible on flat terrain, as in Arba, Aequum, or Iader, where the street grid is best documented. There are also irregular plans, as in Narona and Epidaurum, or combinations of the orthogonal and irregular (Salona, Argyruntum), while some towns have not yet been explored enough for a plan to be distinguished (Cambi 2002, 52–56). City walls existed in many towns and were built at different periods of time. The bestexplored are the city walls of Salona, Iader, Arba, Curicum, Asseria, Tragurium, Issa, Narona, Aequum, Varvaria, Doclea, and Lissus (Suić 2003, 195–203).

Public Architecture The most impressive traces of Roman architecture are those in Salona and Doclea, but there are many buildings in the province that have survived to be repurposed or built into later constructions. The major buildings to be found in a typical provincial city were the forum and its associated structures, temples, and baths, frequently incorporated into the central blocks of the street layout. The following overview of public architecture is organized according to building type rather than geographically or chronologically.

Fora Fora, with their adjacent buildings, have been excavated in Dalmatian towns like Salona, Iader, Aenona, Aequum, Asseria, Fulfinum, Doclea, Delminium, and Domavia, and the existence of such public space should be expected in other towns. The construction of all the fora on the Dalmatian coast dates from the last decades of the first century bce to the first half of the first century ce. Built during Augustus’s reign, the 90 × 45 m forum of Iader was the largest in Dalmatia. Despite the flatness of the city’s terrain, the forum is atypical in being outside the city center. It had stores (tabernae), an arcade on two floors, and a public fountain (nymphaeum), and in the early third century, a basilica with five naves and an apse at each end was added (Suić 2003, 238). The archaeological excavations of the 70 × 45 m forum in Salona showed it to be the earliest core of a city that already existed in the second century bce: its area can be identified with Caesar’s oppidum (Clairmont 1975, 41, 90). The forum was surrounded by porticos, and on the northern side were three buildings, often interpreted as a Capitolium, a shrine to the Capitoline triad of Rome. The forum in Aenona was intentionally built at a lower level than its surrounding space, because the spring that fed the forum’s well via an aqueduct was little different in level from the area selected for the forum, so the forum area was lowered (Ilakovac 1995, 208). The forum of Aequum was in the center of the city and was flanked on three sides by colonnades and tabernae. That at Asseria, a Liburnian hillfort-civitas transformed into a Roman municipium, was built adjacent to the southeastern edge of the city (Suić 2003, 250). One of the best-preserved fora is that of the Flavian municipium Doclea, while the one found in Delminium is one of the simplest of all Dalmatian fora. Although basilicas most likely existed in all major cities, so far they have been confirmed archaeologically in Dalmatia only in Iader and Doclea, and epigraphically (CIL 3.1421910) in Skelani (municipium Malvesatium). A building found during the excavations of the forum in Fulfinum has been interpreted as a basilica-curia (Čaušević-Bully and Valent 2015, 129–134).



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Temples Temples were built in Dalmatia from the first century bce to the fourth century ce, and generally are preserved as foundations, which show them as mainly simple prostyles, though often richly decorated (Cambi 2007, 62–63). There is a traditional consensus that all Roman colonies should have had a Capitolium, although there is no confirmation that all the temples so considered actually were, except for likely examples in Iader, Aenona, and perhaps Salona (Suić 2003, 230, 233). Along with their fora, forum temples on the Dalmatian coast date from the late first century bce to the first half of the first century ce, so it might be expected that some of these temples were dedicated to Augustus and his successors. The find of twenty-one monumental imperial statues in the temple of Narona showed it to be an Augusteum, a temple dedicated to Augustus, his family and successors (Figure 14.2; Marin and Vickers 2004). It seems to have been erected during Augustus’ life, around 10 bce, and lasted until the end of the fourth or beginning of the fifth century, when it was destroyed. It was a four-­ columned prostyle temple, its cella decorated with mosaic and a platform for the ­twenty-one marble statues, mostly representing members of the imperial family from the Augustan to the Trajanic period, whose remains were found on site (Prusac 2011). A similar imperial shrine should have existed at least in the provincial capital, Salona, but so far this has not been confirmed, despite many epigraphic and sculptural traces of the imperial cult from Augustus to Diocletian. Emperor worship by peregrines at the conventus level is attested by inscriptions in Scardona, Senia, Oneum, Epidaurum, and Doclea. This veneration might have been practiced in temples dedicated to the divinized emperors and imperial family. For example, two parts of the same monumental inscription found at Skradin (ancient Scardona) and Trogir may document a temple in Scardona dedicated by the conventus Liburnorum to the divinized emperors Augustus and Vespasian (Demicheli 2015, 104). The largest (45 × 21.5 m) and most elaborate temple on the eastern Adriatic coast was discovered at Aenona. Typologically, it is a variant of a pseudoperipteros with six free-standing columns on the façade and three on the sides, while the outer walls of the cella were decorated with half-columns. This unusual temple’s pronaos is deeper than its cella, while the cella is wider than it is deep, and separated into three naves (Cambi 2007, 64–65). Found in the vicinity were four over-lifesize statues of the Julio-Claudian family,  the best known of which represents Augustus, and it is supposed that they originally stood in the temple (Suić 2003, 233). The building or renovation of temples and shrines financed by private individuals is attested by inscriptions, e.g., in Salona (for Jupiter, Magna Mater, Silvanus, Priapus, the Dii Syri),

Figure 14.2  Augusteum at Narona. Photo courtesy of Toni Glučina.

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Narona (Liber Pater), Senia (Liber and Libera), Promona (Minerva), Polače on the island of Mljet (Liber Pater), Curicum (Venus), and Corcyra Nigra (Venus Pelagia). Votive altars dedicated to a whole range of deities have been found across the province, and may indicate the existence of temples to these gods, although such dedications could also be personal expressions of gratitude.

Baths and Water Systems Dalmatia is a karstic area, and it was extremely important to supply the cities with drinking water and to irrigate the fields. Aqueducts have been found in Salona, Iader, Epidaurum, Aenona, Asseria, Scardona, Burnum, Doclea, Cissa, Navalia, Curicum, Fulfinum, and Spalatum. It is interesting that the island of Pag had two separate aqueducts for the towns Cissa and Navalia, while on the island of Krk the same aqueduct supplied two cities, Curicum and Fulfinum. The aqueduct for Spalatum (modern Split) ran from the River Jadro in Salona and supplied Diocletian’s palace with great amounts of water. Still in use today, it provided 1500 l/sec, enough for a far larger population than could have lived in the palace. One hypothesis is that the water was used for the state factory for woolen military uniforms (Gynaeceum Iovense Dalmatiae-Aspalatho, Notitia Dignitatum (List of Offices): West 9.48), in the northern part of the palace, and that this was the original purpose of Diocletian’s building (Belamarić 2005). Despite the lack of fresh water along the maritime strip, several cities were provided with public baths (Salona, Iader, Narona, Rider, Tarsatica, Curicum, Senia, Doclea), mostly built during the first and second centuries. The construction of the baths at Domavia is dated by inscription (CIL 3.12734, 12736) to the early third century.

Other Public Buildings Mostly due to the fact that the majority of the stone material from the Roman buildings has been reused over the wide span of the centuries, there are not many traces of monumental architecture in Dalmatia. Amphitheaters for gladiatorial games and hunting spectacles have been archaeologically attested, however: Salona’s was built at the beginning of the second century, though Iader’s has not been excavated due to later constructions covering it. There are also indications of amphitheaters in Aequum and Epidaurum (Suić 2003, 262). As mentioned above, a military amphitheater was excavated at Burnum (Glavičić 2011), and one is likely at Tilurium. The only theaters archaeologically attested so far are in Salona and Issa, although there are indications of a theater in Iader (Suić 2003, 258). Inscriptions from the colonies of Narona (CIL 3.1769) and Epidaurum (CIL 3.1745) attest to public spaces for the holding of games. Triumphal arches are preserved only in Iader and (partly) in Doclea, while monumental gates in the city walls at Asseria and Salona (porta Caesarea) can be regarded as triumphal arches (Cambi 2007, 76–77; Suić 2003, 267–269).

Cemeteries and Funerary Monuments The main sepulchral rite in Dalmatia during the period prior to Christianity was cremation, although there were examples of inhumation. The most-excavated cemeteries were in the territories of Salona and Iader. Salona had several necropoleis outside the city walls, where thousands of grave pits have been excavated (Cambi 1986). The early necropoleis were formed along roads



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leading west and east from the urbs vetus (see below), but with the expansion of the urban area and the enclosing of its suburbs within the city walls, the old cemeteries were ­dismantled, and many funerary monuments were used as material for building and repairing the city walls and towers. The excavations of necropoleis in the Liburnian area, specifically at Iader and Argyruntum, have revealed a remarkable number of glass vessels as grave accessories (Fadić 2006). At Iader, more than two thousand graves dating from the first to the fourth century were excavated, many of which contained glass artifacts. The main type of inscribed funerary monument from the first to third century ce was the stele. Other inscribed sepulchral monument types were the sarcophagus, urn, and funerary altar. A very popular indigenous type of tombstone in Liburnia was the so-called Liburnian cippus, a monument with cylindrical-shaped body and pinecone on top. From the mid-second to the sixth century, Salona was a production center for limestone (and some Prokonnesian marble) sarcophagi, and almost all – around two thousand – of the known sarcophagi from  Dalmatia were found there, including the only significant group (around 120) of imported Attic sarcophagi (Cambi 2010, 80–85). Sepulchral architecture sometimes reached monumental proportions: one of the most famous examples is the tomb of Pomponia Vera in Salona (Bulić 1903). The best examples of monumental mausolea are in Salona (the so-called mausoleum of the Lollii family), in Donji Humac and Škrip on the island of Brač, Muline on the island of Ugljan, and also in the provincial interior – for example the mausoleum in Šipovo (ancient Baloie). Of course, the best-preserved mausoleum in Dalmatia was that of Diocletian in his palace, which was transformed into the Christian cathedral of Split (see below).

Salona As the capital of the province of Dalmatia, colonia Iulia Martia Salona Felix was the most important town and harbor on the eastern Adriatic. It was founded on a deep bay at the River Jadro delta. Its position on the Adriatic, proximity to the Italic coast, and excellent road connections with the neighboring provinces, allowing increased mobility of people and goods, resulted in the town’s progressive development. The first traces of Roman presence date to the second century bce, when Salona was perhaps just an emporium on the estuary of the Jadro. As a reward for its support in the Civil War, Salona became a Roman colony under Caesar. Beside the Roman Salona, ­however, there was another in existence until Octavian destroyed it: the Delmataean Salona, a settlement that should have been in an elevated, hard-to-reach place on the slopes beneath the Klis gate. This would explain the dualism in the name of this city, which is documented as both “Salona” and “Salonae.” In terms of urbanism, Salona consisted of three parts: the so-called urbs vetus, which was the oldest and central part of the city, and the newer suburbs to the west and east, the urbs occidentalis and urbs orientalis. In 170 ce, all three parts were enclosed by city walls of a total length of 4080 m, with more than ninety towers discovered to date. Salona flourished at the time of the Flavian emperors; after the third century crises, the town reached a new peak from Diocletian’s era through late antiquity. According to literary and archaeological evidence, Salona had a Christian community in the second half of the third century, but Christianity flourished most visibly from the beginning of the fourth century. The archaeological profile of Salona reveals a mixture of Christian and pagan city, with earlier buildings that have been adapted, transformed, and thus remained in use over the whole late antique period (Figure 14.3). In the last few decades, archaeology in Salona has mainly been rescue operations (Mardešić 2006), with systematic excavations mostly on Christian period sites, especially the cemetery sites

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Figure 14.3  Aerial photo of the part of Salona with buildings from first century Photo courtesy of Živko Bačić.

bce

to sixth century

ce

of Manastirine, Marusinac, and Kapljuč. From the pre-Christian period, there are the very well excavated and documented forum with Capitolium, a theater with temple, amphitheater, baths, main city gates (porta Caesarea), aqueduct, and governor’s palace (Marin and Vickers 2002). The most complex rescue excavation in Salona was carried out three decades ago, during the construction of the “Solin bypass,” when the southwestern parts of the city were discovered, including over five hundred graves of the western necropolis, a building interpreted as a warehouse (horreum), and several other buildings and streets (Kirigin et al. 1988). More recent excavations have brought to light the development of the urbs orientalis, particularly at the time of Diocletian. One of the most significant finds is a unique inscription mentioning Diocletian’s wife, Aurelia Prisca (Jeličić-Radonić 2009, 312). Despite excavations from the nineteenth century onward, the uncovered town area is far from having been explored enough to reveal the whole archaeological picture of the city. Still, the abundant finds of architecture, artifacts, and especially the huge number of inscribed monuments would not have been possible if the inhabitants of Salona had not been literate and wealthy.

Diocletian’s Palace, Split Though the area around present-day Split originally belonged to the territory of Salona or ager Salonitanus, there are few archaeological remains dated prior to the building of Diocletian’s Palace. The Palace was erected on the area of the already existing settlement of Spalatum (Aspalathos), erasing most traces of its original form, though archaeological discoveries in the Palace’s substructures show that this location was probably inhabited from Hellenistic times (Marović 1963). Rescue excavations of the Palace’s peristyle and



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southeastern sector found the remains of structures of the first or second century ce (Perojević, Marasović, and Marasović 2009). Diocletian’s Palace (Figure 14.4) is one of the most important monuments of late antiquity in the whole empire. Diocletian (284–305) was the first emperor to abdicate voluntarily from the throne, and built the Palace as his retirement residence in his area of origin. But the Palace was also a monument to the Tetrarchy and to the economic and governmental reforms by which he extended the life of the weakened Roman Empire for the next two centuries. The remarkable building (181 × 215 m) was a mixture of military fort, imperial villa, and Hellenistic town, without a direct model in earlier Roman architecture (Cambi 2007, 80). The Palace is divided by the main cross streets, cardo and decumanus, into three parts. The northern part was intended for soldiers, servants, aides, and perhaps a factory for military

Figure 14.4  Aerial photo of Diocletian’s palace in Split. Photo courtesy of Živko Bačić.

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clothing (see above), while the luxuriously decorated southern section facing the sea was the official part of the Palace, intended as the residence of the ex-emperor and his family. Also in the southern part was a religious complex with three temples, one prostyle and two circular, opposite Diocletian’s own mausoleum. Between the temples and the mausoleum was the Peristyle, which was both a square with decorative colonnade and a distribution point of traffic, providing access to all the main buildings of the complex: the mausoleum to the east, the temples to the west, and the residential part to the south, with a lower level corridor leading to the seafront (Cambi 2007, 80–82). This hallway led to a whole array of groundlevel halls beneath the southern part of the Palace, while the ceremonial and public parts of the Palace were actually on its “second floor.” After Salona was abandoned in the seventh century, its population moved to the Palace and started the process of transforming it into a city, which continued through the next millennium. This made the building representative of a particular form of urbanism, but also made it virtually inaccessible for systematic archaeological excavations.

Epigraphic Culture Dalmatia is among the Roman provinces that are richest in inscriptions: the whole province has more than ten thousand, with more than half of them from the Salona area alone. Of course, these represent only a fraction of those originally made, but the distribution ratio was likely similar in ancient times. The earliest Latin inscriptions, of the first century bce, have been found on the territories of the Roman colonies Narona and Salona. The number of inscriptions reflects the epigraphic culture, as well as the literacy level of the population in the province. From the first half of the first century until the end of the sixth century, there was quite a high demand for inscriptions in Dalmatia, especially in those cities and colonies that had populations of Italic origin. The availability of stone for durable monuments was also an important factor. Dalmatia, especially its coast and islands, is rich in stone, so the material for the monuments was more readily available than in some other provinces, such as Pannonia. Though there were stone workshops in all areas of Dalmatia, the highest-quality limestone beds are in the Salona area, with quarries near Tragurium and on the island of Brač (ancient Brattia). Pliny (Natural History 3.141) reported that Tragurium was well known for its marble (Tragurium marmore notum), although geologically it is classified as a limestone. An early fourth century inscription (CIL 3.10107) mentions a soldier supervising the making of column capitals from Brač stone so they could be sent to adorn Licinius’s baths in the Pannonian colony of Sirmium. Although literacy and Roman cultural influence did not affect all areas of non-Roman communities equally, there were nonetheless a considerable number of epigraphic monuments in the provincial interior. These can provide extremely valuable information on indigenous onomastics, since the names and toponyms are all that has been preserved of the language spoken in these areas before the Roman conquest. The number of inscribed monuments may also reflect the ratio of acceptance or rejection of Roman cultural inflow among the indigenous population in a particular area. Although the territory of all Dalmatia was under Roman rule, the presence of a community of Roman citizens was a prerequisite for the development of the epigraphic culture among the locals. That is why, in some parts of the Dalmatian hinterland, where there were no major cities and thus no significant “Romanizing” influence, there was no realization of self-expression through epigraphic monuments.



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In the eastern part of Dalmatia, in the area of Skelani (municipium Malvesatium) and Prijepolje, the impact of Roman culture on the indigenous population was shown by the appearance of inscribed monuments during the second half of the second century (Zotović 2003). Studies on anthroponymy in Dalmatia based on epigraphic material (RendićMiočević 1950; Alföldy 1969; Katičić 1976) have shown the division of the several naming groups in Dalmatia and the development of the onomastic system among the native populations. The best-developed onomastic systems are confirmed in the area of the Delmatae (especially in municipium Rider), in Liburnia and in a peregrine town whose name is known only in abbreviated form as m(unicipium) S() in the eastern interior of the province. A typical Dalmatian anthroponymy can also be found in the province of Dacia among the Dalmatian settlers who inhabited the site of Alburnus Maior. The process by which the inhabitants of Dalmatia obtained Roman citizenship and took on the Roman tria nomina is first seen during the first century bce and first century ce, when some of them were given the imperial names “Iulius” or “Claudius.” When the number of municipia increased during the Flavian period through the first half of the second century, there was a significant increase in the tria and duo nomina throughout the province. After the Constitutio Antoniniana granted Roman citizenship throughout the empire in 212 ce, “Aurelius” became the most common name in the whole province. Despite the fact that the non-Roman inhabitants of Dalmatia accepted the Latin language and the Roman custom of setting up monuments (either tombstones or altars), they tried to keep their indigenous names, and only after the Constitutio Antoniniana can a significant change in their naming system be found. Moreover, in some interior areas the local communities accepted the Roman epigraphic culture, but the iconographic and symbolic features on those stone monuments remained indigenous. One of the best examples of this is votive reliefs depicting the god Silvanus. This deity was one of the most important indigenous gods, especially in the Delmataean area, and the Nymphs, who often accompany him on these reliefs, are shown dressed in folk costumes of the indigenous population, as also seen on tombstones across the Dalmatian interior (Rendić-Miočević 1989).

Rural Settlements and Villas The least-explored type of site in Roman Dalmatia is rural settlements. According to surveys, there should have been thousands of Roman rural settlements throughout Dalmatia, especially in areas near the cities and along the main roads. As an indication of site density, a survey of central Dalmatian islands showed more than 850 sites associated with Roman remains on just four islands: Šolta, Brač, Hvar, and Vis. They included actual settlements, artefact scatters, burials, and a miscellany of associated and isolated individual finds (Gaffney et al. 2006, 95). The minor artefact scatters were not actually settlements, but might reflect manuring patterns or possibly the edges of larger unidentified sites (Gaffney et al. 2006, 99). Knowledge of rural settlements has been gained mostly through excavations of villae rusticae built outside cities, hundreds of which were located in Dalmatia. Not all of them are attested as independent estates connected with the local economy, but the general presumption is that the villas were centers of economic production, since the majority of workshop activity took place outside the city. The density of villas near the colonies, especially Narona and Salona, indicates that the members of the rural power structure were also members of the urban upper class. Villas on the Dalmatian coast were generally built on hill slopes near the seashore or fertile fields, while villas in the hinterland were mostly built close to watercourses and near the main roads (Busuladžić 2011, 53, 106). Manufacturing facilities for

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wine and olive oil have been found in many villas, and probably they had a whole range of products. Among the most important latifundia-type villas with well-documented production facilities were Muline on the island of Ugljan, Stari Trogir (Croatia), Višići, and Mogorjelo (Bosnia and Herzegovina). In several luxurious villas inland from Narona, large mosaic pavements with figural and geometric motifs have been found, as at Stolac (ancient Diluntum), Panik, and Višići (Busuladžić 2011, 150–155). Their ultimate development may be shown by the villa in Mogorjelo: built in the first century, it was transformed during late antiquity into a fortified facility (98 × 92° m) with defensive walls and towers (Bojanovski 1988, 125).

Provincial Resources, Economy, and Trade One immediate consequence of the conquest of Illyricum was the Roman government’s ability to exploit the province’s economic potential. The surviving population that was not recruited or sold into slavery after the collapse of the Bellum Batonianum became involved in the process of establishing the economic and infrastructural stability of the province. Though the Dalmatian landscape has changed radically since Roman times, it was then renowned for its richness in forests and pastureland for sheep, and exported timber, woolen clothing such as cuculi Liburnici and Delmatica, and milk products like the cheese caseus Delmaticus. Still, Dalmatia’s most important natural resources were its mines. Having become aware of substantial amounts of precious metals in the hinterland, Augustus ordered the governor C. Vibius Postumus to start the exploitation of gold in Dalmatia (Florus, Epitome of Roman History 2.25). Several first century authors mentioned Dalmatia as a province rich in gold, especially during the time of Nero (Pliny, Natural History 33.67; Statius, Silvae 3.3, 90; Martial, 10.78, 1–5). In the Vranica and Kobila mountains and the river basins of the Upper Vrbas, Lašva, Lepenica, and Fojnica in Central Bosnia, archaeological survey has discovered a large number of mounds formed from washing ore, confirming that the largest quantities of precious metal were extracted there (Zaninović 1977, 796; Škegro 1999, 45–51). The exploitation of gold was strictly controlled and supervised by the imperial administration (Škegro 1999, 43). According to an inscription from Salona (CIL 3.1997), the Dalmatian gold mines (aurariae Delmaticae) were still being exploited in Trajan’s time. Moreover, Trajan’s conquest and provincialization of Dacia, which also had rich gold deposits in the Western Carpathians, led to a movement of skilled miners from several communities in Dalmatia to the new Dacian mining area of Alburnus Maior (see Diaconescu, chapter 13 of this volume). They were organized in castella, settlements at the tops of hills, very likely a similar type of settlement to those in Dalmatia, and their inscriptions tell us of the existence of some Dalmatian communities that were not yet known in Dalmatia itself (Ardevan 2004). These monuments have not just confirmed the persistence of the Dalmatian onomastic tradition in Dacia, but revealed dozens of new Dalmatian names, a few previously unknown local deities (e.g., Aptus Delmatarum), and several places of origin not yet located in Dalmatia. Also under Trajan, mining activities in Dalmatia were extended to silver, lead, and iron extraction. Silver was exploited mostly during the second half of the second and through the third century, as confirmed by epigraphic and numismatic evidence (Bojanovski 1988, 197). The principal areas for silver extraction were the ancient Argentaria, in the borderland of northeastern Dalmatia (modern Bosnia and Herzegovina), in the Upper Drina basin (modern Serbia) and in the Čehotina and Lim river basins in southeastern Dalmatia (modern Montenegro) (Škegro 1999, 58–68). The administration of the mines was centered in



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Domavia, where the procurator of the Dalmatian silver mines (procurator argentariarum Dalmaticarum, later procurator metallorum Pannonicorum et Delmaticorum) had his headquarters. Soldiers from the cohorts were responsible for the security of the mines, while the roads leading from the mining centers were secured by legionaries from beneficiary posts, as mentioned above. Though the Romans continued the wine and olive oil production traditional to the Hellenistic cities of the eastern Adriatic, Dalmatia’s production capacities were far less than demand for these products. Foreign amphorae found in almost all ancient sites in Dalmatia show that there was a continuous demand for wine and olive oil imported from all over the Mediterranean. Wines came mostly from Italic and Greek areas, while olive oil was imported from Hispania, Histria, and Northern Africa (Cambi 1989; Škegro 1999, 143–150, 174–179). Intensive maritime trading connections are shown by underwater finds of sunken ships with cargoes of amphorae, such as Lamboglia 2 and Dressel 6 (Jurišić 2000). There is much archaeological evidence for local and interprovincial trading activity in Dalmatia. Its major harbors, including Senia, Iader, Scardona, Salona, and Narona, acted as transfer points from which cargo was shipped not just to the interior of the province, but also to Pannonia and Moesia. Trade on the Adriatic was so important that an Adriatic shipping guild (corpus naviculariorum maris Hadriatici, CIL 6.9682) was established. Senia held the imperial customs office (publicum portorium, ILJug 902) for goods that were distributed across the province and perhaps outside it, since the whole area between Raetia and Moesia was the same zone for customs (publicum portorium Illyrici). Imported goods found on Dalmatian archaeological sites are mainly ceramics, in the first two centuries ce mostly from Italia, but with a significant increase from the eastern provinces in the third century. Other frequent finds are glass, brooches, seal stones, and other jewelry. A substantial part of the imports during the first century ce were likely military supplies, since that was when there were the most troops in Dalmatia (Glicksman 2005, 209). This is borne out by finds in the two legionary fortresses, since their ceramics and other small finds date mostly to the first century (Šimić-Kanaet 2010; Glavičić 2011; Borzić 2013; Sanader et al. 2014). Local ceramic production presumably came with the establishment of the first Roman cities on the eastern Adriatic, although few sites with kilns have been found (Lipovac Vrkljan and Šiljeg 2012). There was, however, a huge workshop complex at Crikvenica (Ad Turres), and there is no reason to doubt the existence of similar workshops in Dalmatia. This workshop complex of 6000  m2, with six kilns and adjacent facilities, belonged to the senator Sextus Mutillius Maximus (Figure 14.5). It produced almost one hundred different types of ceramic vessels from the first century bce to the second century ce, the most important of which was the local amphora Crikvenica 1, distributed mostly in the Liburnian area (Lipovac Vrkljan and Ožanić Roguljić 2013). According to epigraphic records from the early Principate, among the many Italic settlers on the coast of Illyricum were businessmen and craftsmen who wanted to expand their affairs to a new market. For example, the Papii were winemakers whose amphorae of Lamboglia 2 type have been found on several coastal sites in Dalmatia (Cambi 1989, 321–322). In the hinterland of Narona, at Tasovčići, two members of this family left an inscription commemorating Octavian’s victory over Sextus Pompeius in 36 bce (CIL 3.14625); they might have owned an estate producing wine, olive oil, and the amphorae nearby. Inscriptions, especially those from Salona, often mention craftsmen working in professional and trade guilds (collegia) or as individual artisans. Some mention merchants of oil (negotiator olearius, CIL 3.2936), wine (negotiator vinarius, CIL 3.2131), or ceramics (negotiator cretarius, AE 1992, 1374), likely selling both imported and local goods.

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Figure 14.5  Roman ceramic kilns discovered at the Crikvenica site. Photo courtesy of Goranka Lipovac Vrkljan.



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Underwater Sites Dalmatia’s position on the Adriatic Sea and its numerous ports and harbors opened it to maritime trade. Hundreds of underwater sites have been discovered to date, especially along the Croatian coast. Many were ancient shipwrecks, attesting to maritime transport and trade. According to the archaeological remains, the ships were mostly loaded with amphorae, different types of kitchenware and other kinds of ceramic vessels, but also with semi-finished stone products such as sarcophagi, showing the major items of trade from and to Dalmatia. Of course, not all the shipwrecks were coming from or to Dalmatia; some were likely destined for other important ports in the Adriatic or Mediterranean provinces. Some ships contained very large cargoes: one discovered in the Pelješac Channel had more than forty thousand ceramic vessels, and another near the Palkeni Islands had more than ten thousand (Jurišić 2000, 65, 74). In the area of the present-day port of Cavtat, several ancient shipwrecks dating from the first century bce to the fourth century ce had large numbers of amphorae. One was the largest and best-preserved ancient shipwreck on the eastern Adriatic coast, with at least 1,200 whole amphorae, mostly North-African cylindrical amphorae of Keay 25 type (MihajlovićJurišić 2010, 104). There are also exceptional underwater discoveries. A Roman-period shipwreck found near the islet of Vele Orjule contained a Hellenistic bronze statue of a young athlete cleaning his strigil, often called the Apoxyomenos, though that would imply an athlete cleaning his body (Cambi 2007). Submerged off the southern seafront of Vranjic, near Salona, was found a complex built of hundreds of pieces of architectural sculpture, sarcophagi, tombstones, and parts of statues (Radić Rossi 2008).

Conclusion After the long period of wars with indigenous people in Illyricum, the Romans changed not just the ethnicities and material culture but the whole natural environment and landscape of Dalmatia. The indigenous population more or less accepted the new circumstances and c­ ustoms, but Rome also had to adjust its own policy according to the level of local resistance, sometimes respecting indigenous religion and cultural traditions. Since Roman culture itself was always changing throughout antiquity, we cannot speak about the submersion of local culture into the Roman system. It was a mutual process, different in every area, although the balance of the required changes was always in Rome’s favor. Once established as a province, the long period of peace granted stability and prosperity to the inhabitants of Dalmatia, as is very well attested by the archaeological remains. From the excavated material culture and inscriptions, one may say that this province was an intersection of cultural interchanges from around the empire. The economic power of the province was based on its natural resources, especially those inland, and trade on the coast. During the first century, numerous coastal cities with ports were established and tied into an excellent road infrastructure across the province, transforming this region into a trading crossroads for a much wider area. This provincial infrastructure and stability allowed communication among neighboring provinces, as shown by goods of foreign origin and many epigraphic traces of newcomers settled on Dalmatian territory. The territory of Dalmatia was attractive to the senators and emperors who developed their businesses and held private estates there. On the other hand, inscriptions document Dalmatians living in almost thirty provinces across the empire, along

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with the different reasons they left their homeland (e.g. army, trade, work, political career, education). Some of them (e.g., Lucius Tarius Rufus, Quintus Marcius Turbo, Sextus Iulius Severus, and Lucius Artorius Castus) achieved extraordinary military, political, or business careers outside Dalmatia and participated in important social and economic processes in other provinces. The emperor Diocletian, after his extraordinary reorganization of the empire, returned to spend his retirement near the capital city of peaceful Dalmatia, at the dawn of one of Salona’s most flourishing periods. After the end of the empire, most of the Roman colonies in Dalmatia, such as Salona, Narona, Epidaurum, Aequum, and Domavia, were abandoned and never transformed into bigger towns. From the Middle Ages on, their remains were used as quarries to build or reinforce neighboring places that did have continuing development. The abandonment, however, left them open to archaeological exploration: excavations in Salona over the last 170  years have brought to light an abundance and variety of archaeological material. The greater part of Salona is still unexplored and, more importantly, protected from development, offering an excellent and very rare opportunity for excavating a provincial capital unaffected by later habitation. On the other hand, in the cities that became medieval and modern towns, Roman remains formed the foundations of later buildings, making their excavation very restricted and difficult. Some of the best examples of this are Zadar, Nin, and Rab, and especially Trogir and Vis, with the remains of both Greek and Roman cities lying beneath them. The scholarly legacy of our predecessors, combined with new technologies, now reveal the missing pieces of the mosaic of Roman Dalmatia faster than ever before, and it will surely be further enriched in the next decade or two. It is our deepest desire to preserve this heritage and to give future generations an opportunity to have as exciting a dialogue with antiquity as we do.

Biographical Note Dino Demicheli is associate professor at the Department of Archaeology, Faculty of Humanities and Social Sciences, University of Zagreb. He has excavated mostly on Dalmatian sites in Croatia. His current main interest is the epigraphy of Roman Dalmatia and the archaeological excavations of the Dalmatian capital, Salona.

Abbreviations CIL = Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum. 1823–. Edited by Deutsche Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin. Paris: A. Franck. ILJug = Inscriptiones latinae quae in Iugoslavia inter annos MCMLX et MCMLXX repertae et editae sunt. 1978–. Edited by Anna Šašel and Jaro Šašel. Ljubljana: Narodni muzej.

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CHAPTER 15

Macedonia Vassilis Evangelidis

Nature of the Evidence: Excavation and Survey Novel approaches like Susan Alcock’s Graecia Capta (1993) allowed the “rediscovery” of Roman Greece under the scope of a new interpretation: that the incorporation of the old Greek city states into the Roman Empire was a process that had a long-term effect on the organization of life, society, and culture. On the other hand, the provincial landscape of Roman Macedonia, the other great province of the Greek peninsula, still waits to be “discovered” before it can be “rediscovered.” In contrast to south Greece, which after the foundation of the modern Greek state was a rather stable region, Macedonia suffered for a long time from turbulence, clashes between nations, and demographic changes that did not always permit unhindered archaeological research. The Roman province covered a large geographical area that today extends over at least three modern states – Greece, the Republic of North Macedonia, and Albania – whose relationship has quite often been characterized by distrust (Figure 15.1). Although a large part of what is today central and south Albania belonged to the province of Macedonia, for the purposes of this essay the area of study will be restricted in the area between the lake of Prespes – Florina (at the northwest) and the Nestos river (east), and from central Thessaly (south) to the valley of Erigon and Axios (north). Additionally, the archaeology of the Roman period did not always receive appropriate attention, since academic and consequently public interest focused on earlier, more “illustrious” periods. Despite these problems, the archaeological record is long. Since 1861, when L. Heuzey and H. Daumet arrived in Macedonia as emissaries of Napoleon III in order to head a large archaeological expedition, numerous systematic and rescue excavations have revealed a great number of Roman-period sites and monuments, among them important urban centers of the Roman period (Philippoi, Dion, Stobi, Heraclea, Demetrias), or monuments and buildings that came to light during the feverish postwar rebuilding of the Greek cities. More recently, the construction of the modern Egnatia highway in north Greece has instigated a number of rescue excavations and small-scale surveys along its route, greatly enhancing our knowledge

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about rural Macedonia, while archaeological research in the Republic of North Macedonia (Kuzman 2008) and Albania added new evidence about sites that were previously unknown or inaccessible to the broader archaeological community. Undeniably, a major setback in the archaeological research of the period is the relative lack of regional or even local surveys, especially those focusing on the transition from the late Hellenistic (LH) to the early Roman (ER) period. A few intensive survey projects (Figure 15.1) have produced conclusive evidence for changes in the landscape or the settlement patterns of the region, but these have not always focused on the Roman period. The Greek Archaeological Service has conducted a number of small-scale local surveys that occasionally have employed geophysical, pollen, or GIS analysis, but mostly the aim of these projects has been restricted to the identification of potential sites for excavation.

The Context of Roman Macedonia Regional and local surveys (Bintliff 2012, 313–319) and new research approaches (Alcock 1993) reveal that mainland Greece underwent a series of changes as a result of its incorporation into the Roman Empire, among them the decline of the countryside, the gradual emergence of large estates, the disappearance of many small towns and villages, and the redistribution of the population. The continuous turmoil of the late Hellenistic period and the presence of large armies, which inflicted a heavy burden on mainland Greece, obviously played a very important role in the collapse of the traditional economic and political system, but do not solely account for the decline. The failure of the Greek cities to remain high up in the commercial network and the importance given to new metropolitan centers or strategically important regions were also contributing factors to the loss of prosperity, at least until the second century ce (Bintliff 2012, 318). Macedonia seems to have followed the same general path of development as other areas of the Greek peninsula, but the preexistence of a system of large rural estates belonging to an elite equestrian class, the different form of urbanization based on large regional centers such as Pella or Demetrias, and, most importantly, the vast economic resources in comparison to southern Greece are factors that could have made the process of transition to the new reality less dramatic. The construction of the Via Egnatia in the second century bce and the gradual extension of the road network to the Balkans (Figure 15.2) could also have had a beneficial effect on the economy of the province by providing a link to the West and access to the great markets of the East, as well as to the hinterland of the Balkans, rich in minerals and natural resources. Nevertheless, no one can doubt that Rome intervened drastically in the organization of Macedonia even immediately after the defeat of Perseus in 168 bce, creating four self-governing districts based on traditional boundaries (Nigdelis 2007, 51). Specific measures such as the prohibition of landowning, salt trade, and intermarriage across districts, as well as the suspension of silver and gold mining, clearly aimed at the political and economic control of the area. The next step was the official organization of the province (148 bce), the nominal boundaries of which depended on the military activities and needs of Roman authority. Epirus, Thrace, the hinterland of the Balkans, and Thessaly were occasionally parts of the province, as attested by Cicero, Against Piso 38: “for the governors of Macedonia, the borders were always the same as those marked by swords and spears.” The history of Roman Macedonia, with its territorial changes, constant barbarian raids, opposing Roman armies, and greedy governors, constitute the mosaic of the province at the end of the Hellenistic period, and are thoroughly documented (Nigdelis 2007). Archaeologically, however, this

Figure 15.1  Main areas of Macedonia. Distribution map of surveys, quarries and mines. Digital map by Vassilis Evangelidis.

Figure 15.2  Network of cities, villas and roads of Macedonia. Digital map by Vassilis Evangelidis.

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early stage of incorporation into the empire is difficult to trace. Roman troops, which for many regions in the West were important bearers of Roman material culture, were stationed in Macedonia to face the constant barbarian raids of the second-first centuries bce, but their presence (e.g., forts) remains archaeologically elusive. Similarly elusive are traces of Roman negotiatores, the Italian adventurers who, after the collapse of the monarchy and especially during the first century bce, engaged in business in Macedonia, buying land and trading timber, minerals, and slaves. Although their presence is attested by inscriptions or funerary stelae in many Macedonian cities where they were organized in conventus, official clubs with an active role in urban life (Nigdelis 2007, 59), large-scale architecture like the Agora of the Italians in Delos has not yet been associated with them. The best manifestation of the Roman presence during this transitional period is the construction of the Via Egnatia (mid-second century bce), the great trans-adriatic military road that allowed rapid movement of troops toward the East and the Balkans (Lolos 2007; Figure 15.2). It is, however, the changes in settlement patterns and urbanization that reflect the transition to the new socioeconomic reality of the empire in the most tangible way. Extinction or continuity, decline or prosperity, shrinkage or enlargement could each be the result of the incorporation of a city, town, or village into the new administrative structure of the empire.

Urbanization and Settlements Urban Sites: Extinction or Disappearance Despite a lower level of urbanization compared with southern Greece or Asia Minor, Macedonia remained one of the most urbanized areas of the ancient world, with a network of cities of varied size, power, and influence (Talbert 2000, Vol. 2, map 50). In the new conditions of the Roman world, some cities adapted well; others did not, and fell into decline. For many small cities, such as an unidentified Hellenistic city discovered near the modern village of Petres in Florina, the end came violently at the end of the first century bce. As in southern Greece, this was a period when each city depended on luck and making the right decisions or alliances in order to avoid plunder and destruction. In many cases, like that of the Thessalian city of Gomphoi (Caesar, Civil War 3.80), the financial strain of sustaining Roman troops was as hazardous as an invading army. The construction of the Via Egnatia might also have played a significant role in the decline of some traditional coastal centers such as the cities of Chalkidike, or Maroneia and Abdera in Thrace, since importance now was given to new centers, like Heraclea Lyncestis, Apollonia, Traianoupolis, and Ulpia Topeiros, strategically situated along the route (Lolos 2007, 285; Figure 15.2). For many old cities, such as Tragilos or even Philippoi, the decline brought about impoverishment and downgrading to the status of a village or polisma (Strabo, Geography 7.41). Undoubtedly, the most characteristic case of “failure” was the gradual disappearance of the administrative capital, Pella, during the second half of the first century bce. Despite its size and importance, the city did not manage to survive the transition to the early imperial period and a natural disaster (probably an earthquake); it was eventually abandoned and replaced by a Roman colony. The decline of Pella has been attributed to the upgrade of Thessaloniki to a provincial seat and its subsequent maximization. As in the case of the old capital Aigae, which also declined around the Augustan period, Pella’s end was not the result of a violent act of war, but a gradual decay and abandonment caused by the shift to new commercial and administrative centers. Naturally, the abandonment was not always final. In the case of the small Thessalian port of Pyrasos, its abandonment at the end of the first century bce was followed by a resettlement and the adoption of a new name, that of Pthiotic Thebes, an inland



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center that also declined at approximately the same time (Strabo, Geography 4.5.14). At Pella, in spite of the general desertion of the site of the old city, recent excavations have shown that the south coastal sector was actually reinhabited during the imperial period.

Urban Sites: Continuity Regardless of the difficulties of the early conquest and the changes that the transition inevitably brought, many cities, towns, and villages managed to survive (Figure 15.2). The most complete record of the cities and towns of the Roman period in Macedonia remains the fundamental work of F. Papazoglou (1988), largely repeated by the Barrington Atlas (Talbert 2000). Most of the large and medium-size urban centers at the core of the old Macedonian kingdom (central Macedonia) continued to exist during the early to middle Roman periods. Textual evidence indicates that smaller cities or villages were often grouped around a more important urban center (Hatzopoulos 1996, 49–104), forming a sympolitia (union) such as the Pentapolis or Tripolis known from eastern Macedonia, while in upper Macedonia, where the degree of urbanization was lower, the traditional komai (villages) formed politeiai (unions of individual communities), normally bearing the ethnikon, the name of the local ethnos (nation). In many cases, the original large size of the city was reduced, as in Kassandreia (Chalkidike) or Demetrias in Thessaly, where the old, enormous urban center (440 ha) was restricted to a habitation zone near the coast and the harbor. In other cities that were traditionally well provided – such as Thasos, Edessa, Beroia, or the Thessalian cities of Larissa and Trikke – the Roman period brought expansion, with new habitation zones, lavishly built public (baths) or private buildings (houses), and monumental architecture. Undeniably, the most characteristic aspect of the urbanization of the period was the maximization of Thessaloniki to a “first-level city,” a provincial capital and urban center for the whole of the Balkans (Adam-Veleni 2011). Its upgraded status is perfectly explained by its position as a link between the Aegean region and the Balkans (Lolos 2007, 274), its size (260 ha) and population being the most accurate indicators for its place in the hierarchy of power. Of course, the status of a city does not solely depend on quantitative data like size or population but can also be rooted in its long history (Beroia), religious importance (Dion), economic importance (Thasos), location (Stobi, Apollonia, Amphipolis), or the power of its citizens (Roman colonies). Connectivity, one of the most important aspects of urban networks, was greatly enhanced by the construction (and maintenance) of the Via Egnatia and the smaller roads that allowed unhindered movement of persons and goods toward the Balkans and the Roman East (Figure 15.2; Lolos 2007). The northern region (Paeonia and Pelagonia) was clearly among the areas that benefited from this enhanced connectivity. Prosperity and rapid development during the late first century ce are well attested for the larger cities of the area (Stobi, Heraclea Lyncestis, and Lychnidos), which were strategically located along major Balkan routes. The northern border area, which had previously succumbed to barbarian raids, now became a core zone, easily accessible and therefore inclined toward economic development. The most tangible evidence of the intervention of Rome in the provincial landscape was a systematic program of colonization, originally conceived by Caesar and other major players of the civil wars, later completed by Augustus (Rizakis 2013, 23). In most cases these colonies replaced preexisting centers of the old Kingdom, such as Dion, Pella, Kassandreia, and Philippoi (Figure 15.2). Since Roman colonization generally had agrarian motives, the foundation of the colonies was followed by changes in land ownership, with the best part of the confiscated land (ager publicus) given to the colonists, mostly followers and soldiers of the various generals of the civil wars. The rearrangement of the countryside was done mostly through the systematic application of centuriation (Rizakis 2013, 24), a system of land division that reflects the Roman ideas of territorial control and hierarchy of space. Although in

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Macedonia traces of centuriation have only been discovered at Kassandreia, it is almost certain that the creation of a cadastral grid was also an important constituent of territorial organization in the other colonies. Dion, Kassandreia, and Philippoi (but not Pella) were granted extensive territories (Papazoglou 1988, 405–413), along with ius italicum, securing not only their financial survival but their status in site hierarchy. In Philippoi, archaeological and geophysical research has revealed the existence of an extended territory, which covered the fertile plain of Drama, and was dotted with villages (vici), small settlements, and villas, home to a mixed population of Romans, Greeks, and natives. In Pieria and Kassandra, the foundation of the colonies of Dion and Kassandreia also seems to have disturbed traditional settlement patterns. Archaeological research in the peninsula of Kassandra in Chalkidike during the last decade has shown that many of the small towns and villages which had spread across the territory were replaced by dispersed rural settlements – villas. Systematic archaeological research in Philippoi and Dion during the last hundred years has revealed cities whose strong sense of romanitas was reflected in their material culture and architecture. Although the transformation of the urban landscape was a gradual process (not completed in Dion until the beginning of the third century ce), western influences are clear in the organization of space and architecture.

Rural Settlements Outside the great urban centers, the nature, plans, and architecture of rural settlements ­(villages, hamlets, or little towns) remain largely unknown. Random finds, rescue excavations, and small-scale local surface surveys have revealed remains of rural houses, buildings, cemeteries, farms, villas, and warehouses, mostly in the fertile zone that extends between Mt. Paikon and Mt. Bermion (Bottiaia). Most were located relatively close to the main urban centers of the area, Edessa, Pella, and Beroia. Almost 130 rural sites of the LH and ER periods have been discovered in upper Macedonia, but it is debatable how many of these can actually be classed as ancient komai. Inscriptions have preserved the name of some of these (Hatzopoulos 1996, 117), but their connection to an archaeological site is not always possible. Absent a concrete site classification and typology study, the size, distribution, and exact date for most of these sites is unknown, and analysis is often restricted to the conventional urban/rural distinction. Most importantly, we do not know how and to what degree these rural settlements were affected by the transition to the new reality. Hatzopoulos (1996, 118) has assumed, probably correctly, that some of these villages, or their farmland, passed into the hands of rich Romans or Romanized Greeks. The relationship between an urban center and the surrounding rural settlements is best manifested in the territory of the Roman colony of Philippoi (plain of Drama), where systematic archaeological research has spotted a number of rural settlements of the Roman to late Roman period situated every 3–10 km along major routes. These vici (some of whose ethnic names – such as Medicani, Satriceni, and Coreni – have survived) enjoyed a form of administrative and legal independence probably indicative of a territorial organization very similar to that in the western provinces.

Natural Resources and the Exploitation of the Landscape The natural resources of Macedonia, vast in comparison to those of southern Greece, might have permitted an easier transition from the LH into the early imperial period (Bintliff 2012, 317). After the conquest of Macedonia, most of the old royal estates, farms, forests, mines, and quarries became ager publicus, property of the Roman state (Nigdelis 2007, 64), though



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the exact mechanism of their exploitation remains largely unknown. It is quite possible that a large part was leased to Romans or Romanized Greeks, perhaps managed by freedmen. Agriculture remained the chief economic activity of the region, mainly on small or medium estates or rural agrarian settlements. Reflecting a reorganization of traditional land ownership schemes, from the end of the first century bce onward a new model of large estates started to appear: the villa rustica, owned by members of the Roman or Romanized elite, and directed by free or slave stewards (Rizakis 2013). Although it’s easy (or alluring) to imagine the existence of large latifundia or slave villae (Alcock 1993, 149), the organization, size, relationship to the surrounding rural settlements, and way that these estates functioned all are largely unknown. The only tangible evidence is the rural sites, which we conventionally call villas or farms, complexes that combined habitation quarters and storage or manufacturing facilities (Figure 15.2). The archaeological evidence attests some sophistication in the organization of the habitation quarters, and to the production and/or storage of goods (Adam-Veleni 2009), but offers only a glimpse of the overall organization of these units. Many aspects of the function of these estates, such as their relationship with neighboring villages, or the nature of the workforce (whether hired labor or sharecropper tenants) remain obscure. Studies on Mediterranean landscapes of the Roman period have argued that these large estates might have focused on commercial agriculture aimed at regional or even interregional markets (Rizakis 2013, 37), but archaeological confirmation of such a hypothesis is often impossible. For example, research focusing on the development of human activities in the plain of Drama (Philippoi) has not produced conclusive findings indicating intensification of agricultural production during the Roman period (Rizakis 2013, 39–40). Other forms of land exploitation such as animal husbandry (transhumant or stable), forestry, or even fishing are more difficult to trace archaeologically. Textual evidence such as the petition of the Battynaioi, a nation in upper Macedonia, to the provincial governor to protect their forests from the incursions of individual entrepreneurs probably indicates the importance of these resources for the economy of local communities (Nigdelis 2007, 74). We are on safer ground with mining (Figure 15.1), though there is little archaeological trace of small-scale or local mines, or alluvial mining. A few mine sites, such as Metaggitsi and Skouries in Chalkidike, have provided detailed evidence for the development of mineral extraction over time. Macedonia was, and still is, a region rich in iron, copper, silver, gold, lead, zinc, and magnesium, and systematic exploitation of the gold and iron mines of Chalkidike and eastern Macedonia is attested from Classical times. The gold mines of Pangaion (Skapte Hyle) were probably known to the Thracians and attracted the imperial interest of Athens, while local communities (probably of Thracian descent) had a long experience in mining and metallurgy in areas such as Thasos, Serres, NE Chalkidike, and Mt. Paikon (Kostoglou 2008). The late Roman Theodosian code mentions officials responsible for Macedonian mines (procuratores metallorum intra Macedonia), indicating the continuation of mining up to late antiquity (Nigdelis 2007, 74). Hard rock mines with long interconnecting galleries have been found in sites like Angistron Serres, Mt. Stratonikon, the Crestonia area, Stobi, Mt. Pangaion, Thasos, Servia, and Mt. Paikon, but based on current archaeological data, it is difficult to draw safe conclusions about intensification (or the reverse) of mining in the Roman period. Slag dispersion, seen at Serres and Kavala, can be an indication of the existence of small iron mines serving local needs, but this is very difficult to trace archaeologically. An inscription from the area of Philippoi (Nigdelis 2007, 74) indicates that many of these small mines were leased to Roman contractors (conductores). Macedonia and Thessaly also provided good-quality stones and marbles (Figure 15.1), and systematic survey in western and central Macedonia has provided us with a list of more than twenty ancient marble or stone quarries (Russell 2013). Many of these, such as Mt. Paikon, Stobi, Pieria, Drama, the Kamvounia mountains, Edessa, Prilep, and Mt. Bermion, might

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have provided marble of medium and poor quality for local building projects, but others, such as the marble quarries of Thasos (marmor thasium: Aliki, Vathy, Marmaromandra, Saliara) or the quarries of Larissa (verde antico: Kasambali) were exported on a regional or wider level.

Architecture and Features of the Built Environment If the formation of the living environment has a social logic, then the changes (or occasionally the lack of change) in architecture and organization of space can provide valuable information to archaeologists and historians exploring societies of the past, especially ­societies in flux, like Macedonia and Achaea during the Roman imperial period. Although Roman period levels did not always receive appropriate attention, the catalog of monuments, buildings, and architectural features is long and contains some impressive examples of monumental architecture (Figure 15.3).

Public Spaces: Agoras, Fora, Macella As in previous periods, a great deal of everyday public or private life revolved around the public spaces, mostly the agora (in the Roman colonies, forum), but also around the commercial/ food markets or even in the recreational complexes (palaestra/baths). The form of public space underwent a major transformation during the Hellenistic period, when the development of the urban landscape was based on architecturally defined monumental spaces with a very inward character (Ionian or tetragonos agora; see Sielhorst 2015). Macedonia was most probably one of the birthplaces of this new urban logic, and one of the best and earliest examples of this type of closed agora was discovered in Pella (Evangelidis 2014, 337). As in other areas of the Aegean world, the trend continued in the imperial period, when the stabilization of economic and political conditions allowed cities to renovate their main public spaces in order to meet the new urban standards (Figure 15.4; Evangelidis 2010, 291–297, 2014). One of the best excavated sites illustrating this transformation is the city of Thasos, which exploited the prosperity brought by the marble and wine trade and commenced a large project (funded partially by prosperous members of the community) of enclosing the previously open agora with long stoas (Evangelidis 2010, 95–104, 2014, 343). This renovation was not restricted to the agora; it also included its surroundings, where small, colonnaded buildings extended the functionality of the main public space and enhanced the monumental character of the city center (Figure 15.4). This model seems to have been followed by many other cities in the region, including larger ones like Maroneia (Thrace), where an impressive propylon of the Hadrianic period marked the entrance to a public space near the harbor (Evangelidis 2014, 343), or smaller ones like Kalindoia (Mygdonia), where archaeological research has started to reveal a large public space of the Augustan period surrounded by large stoas (Evangelidis 2014, 338). The Antonine agora of Thessaloniki is impressive not just for its monumentality (a pi-shaped stoa surrounding a court 146 × 90 m), but also for an axial design, reminiscent of the plan of the forum of the Roman colony of Philippoi; the square seems to have been oriented toward a higher terrace adorned with temples (Figure 15.4; Adam-Veleni 2011, 556; Evangelidis 2014, 340). Excavations in the center of modern Thessaloniki brought to light the south (cryptoporticus with shops) and the east wing of the complex, including an elaborate odeon, an archive and a mint. The agora was probably part of a larger civic center that extended in successive terraces from the level of the main thoroughfare of the city, the colonnaded Via Regia, to the rocky area where the basilica of St. Demetrius was built in the early Christian period. In Philippoi, as in the other well-preserved Roman colony, Dion, the design of the main public space (forum) shows a strong Roman character, with emphasis on central feature(s)

Figure 15.3  Distribution map of various buildings and architectural features within the province of Roman Macedonia. Digital map by Vassilis Evangelidis.

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Figure 15.4  Public spaces: Agoras (Thessaloniki, Thasos) and Fora (Dion, Philippoi). Digital drawing by Vassilis Evangelidis.

(Figure 15.4). As in many northern Italian fora, the main decumanus of Philippoi separated the main area of the forum (second century ce) from a monumental area sacra where at least three elaborate temples, possibly of the Capitoline triad, stood (Evangelidis 2010, 270, 2014, 341). In Dion, the small forum (end of the second century ce), which stood at the north end of a long terrace, is reminiscent of the type of enclosed fora of the second and third century ce in the western provinces (Evangelidis 2010, 199, 2014, 350). The organization of space in both fora clearly reflects Roman societal values. The hierarchically structured public space (as reflected in the clear division between the area sacra and the public square), the strong sense of axiality with emphasis on a central architectural feature (normally frontal temple/s that stood on higher ground), the orientation to the cardinal points, and the standardization of the location of some of the buildings in the overall plan (e.g., the axial relationship between the basilica and the central temple or the close relationship between the basilica and the curia) are characteristics of a spatial logic that in many ways is different from that of the traditional Greek agora (even in its more symmetrical peristyle form). Such features appear in cities with a strong Roman character, like colonies, where the urban landscape (especially in the area of the forum) sent a clear symbolic message to visitors about the romanitas of the place (Evangelidis 2014, 350–351). Unfortunately, the evidence from the other Roman colonies of Macedonia, (Pella and Kassandreia), as well as the new cities that were founded or upgraded during the imperial period (like Ulpia Topeiros in Thrace), is scant. The multiplicity and complexity of public life in Macedonia’s great urban centers such as Thessaloniki or Beroia demanded the existence of more than one large public space, such as the Megaloforon (great forum) attested by the Byzantine sources (eighth and ninth century ce) for Thessaloniki. For many of the smaller cities, however, the old agora – with appropriate additions to enhance monumentality and functionality – must have continued to serve public needs until late antiquity.



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A great part of public life also happened in the commercial or food selling markets, which also took a monumental form during the Hellenistic period. Although in many cities the ­traditional open periodic markets and numerous little food selling spots continued to exist, many such commercial activities found shelter in colonnaded buildings (agoras or macella) close to the main agora of the city (Evangelidis 2014, 343, 2019), and under the supervision of the city archontes (officials). In Roman Macedonia, such buildings have been securely identified at Philippoi and Thasos. A large building with an internal polygonal court, adjoining the forum of Dion, which was originally identified as a palaestra, has recently been identified as a macellum (Figure 15.3; Evangelidis 2010, 203; Zarmakoupi 2018, 289). It is very likely that this kind of commercial building (whether under the Latin term macellum or the Greek makellos) existed in every medium to large city in the province, while in many small cities, commercial and artisan activities might have coexisted, as in the case of the small rustic complex (first century bce to fourth century ce) discovered in the modern village of Stratone (ancient Stratonike) in eastern Chalkidike (Evangelidis 2014, 338).

Public and Administrative Buildings The area of the agora/forum was where most of the city’s administrative or public offices were situated, sheltered either in free-standing buildings or in rooms behind the stoas. Some public buildings, like bouleuteria or basilicas, followed a specific plan that makes their identification easy, but identifying rooms behind the stoas (seen at Thessaloniki, Philippoi, Dion, and Thasos) is more difficult. Luckily, dedicatory inscriptions, architectural features, or small finds have allowed identification of the archive and mint in Thessaloniki (Adam-Veleni 2011, 556) and the tabularium and library in the forum of Philippoi (Evangelidis 2010, 268). Gatherings of the most important political institution of the Graeco-Roman city, the local council (boule or ordo decurionum) took place in buildings with a cavea, like the first phase of the bouleuterion in the agora of Thessaloniki (end first century ce), or in the form of a small odeon (Thasos, second century ce). In Roman colonies, the curia, seat of the ordo decurionum, is normally situated next to or near the basilica, either as a free-standing building (Philippoi), or as an attached hall (Dion). In Philippoi, the curia had the rare form of a Corinthian temple, and nearby stood another important monument of Roman political life: a speaker’s platform (rostra), identifying the square as a place for public assemblies (comitia) (Figure 15.4; Evangelidis 2010, 266). A large building with a central niche on its north side at Argos Orestikon (Evangelidis 2014, 347) could have functioned as the seat of the Koinon (League) of Oresteians, a local tribal confederation in Upper Macedonia. Basilicas, the iconic buildings of Roman architecture, have been discovered in the fora of Philippoi and Dion (Evangelidis 2010, 284). Parts of a public building of the Hellenistic period, including a long frieze depicting shields and cuirasses, were reused for the construction of the one at Dion. Although basilicas are rare outside the colonies, a fine three-aisled basilica (Evangelidis 2014, 347) of the second century ce has come to light at the center of a small, unidentified city at N. Terpni (Serres, east Macedonia), and basilical buildings of the first century ce have been discovered in Thasos (SE stoa) and in Stobi (building with arches). Buildings related to provincial government have not yet been securely identified. At Thessaloniki, a late Republican building in the form of a Greek oikia has been called a praetorium, since it is hypothesized to be the house of the Roman praetor of the province (AdamVeleni 2011, 549), and a public building offering accommodation to traveling officials (praetorium cum tabernae) was discovered close to the forum at Dion (Pantermalis 2000, 377–382). The upgrade of Thessaloniki to an imperial capital by the emperor Galerius at the beginning of the fourth century ce was reified by the construction of a large administrative, ceremonial, and residential complex, planned on a monumental scale and covering a large section of the

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eastern part of the city intra muros (Stefanidou-Tiveriou 2009). Among other, smaller buildings, the complex included (from north to south): a giant rotunda, possibly dedicated to the imperial cult; a tetrapylon (the Arch of Galerius), commemorating the military valor and grandeur of the Tetrarchy in sculptural friezes; a reception hall and basilica; the residential quarters or palace; the octagon, a large throne room or judicial hall; baths; an enormous hippodrome next to the east wall; and a harbor (Mentzos 2010). The intention of the architect(s) was clearly to impress the viewer not only with the sheer scale of the monumental buildings but also with their alignment along the descending terrain, which offered (and still offers) a spectacular vista.

Religious Buildings: Temples, Shrines, and Sanctuaries Religious practice and sacred space were not left unaffected by the new sociocultural conditions of the imperial period. For Roman Macedonia, textual (inscriptions and literary sources) and sculptural evidence indicates the existence of a variety of cults and religious groups, reflecting the multiplicity of religious life in the Roman world (Steimle 2008). Temple building, or in many cases repair, continued to be an important public function that was largely supported by both local and provincial officials. The praetor of Macedonia was involved in the construction of the temple of the deified Caesar in Thessaloniki (StefanidouTiveriou 2012, 274), and an unidentified Macedoniarch built a Roman podium temple in the little town of Isar in the second century ce (Kuzman 2008, 66–67). The introduction of the imperial cult at the end of the first century bce seems to have boosted the construction of new temples in every major or minor urban center, with Beroia holding the scepter as neokoros and headquarters of the Koinon of Macedonians, the league promoting the imperial cult in the region (Nigdelis 2007, 71–72). Religious sites and buildings of the imperial period have been discovered in a number of urban and rural areas (Figure 15.5). Many of the traditional pre-Roman religious centers, like the sanctuary of Zeus Ammon on the idyllic coast of Aphitos (Chalkidike), continued to prosper and attract visitors and devotees, as shown by the addition of new buildings (baths and stoas in Aphitos) and temples. Cult also continued in smaller, more rustic sanctuaries, such as that dedicated to the pastoral Apollo Nomios discovered at Portes – Kozani, Mt. Voion (Chatzinikolaou 2010, 201), or the sanctuary of the Autochthonous Mother of Gods at Lefkopetra near Beroia, where slave manumissions took place (Falezza 2012, 31–38), or the mountain sanctuary of Hero Auloneites at Pangaion (Falezza 2012, 114). The size of the buildings varies from large urban free-standing temples at Thessaloniki and Kassandreia to small rural (Meneis) or urban (Thessaloniki, Thasos, Stobi) shrines and aediculae. The repertoire of types includes Greek-style temples (prostyle or with pteron), Roman podium temples at Philippoi, Dion, and Isar, temples with one central or lateral niches (Thessaloniki, Stobi, Styberra), monopteroi (Pella), shrines (Thasos), and aediculae or cultic rooms incorporated in public buildings (Kalindoia, Thasos). Exceptional is the large 6 × 12 column Ionic temple discovered in 1936, then rediscovered in 2000, in the western part of ancient Thessaloniki (Stefanidou-Tiveriou 2012, 273–278). As at early imperial Athens (Alcock 1993, 191–196), the temple was partially made of materials reused from more than one late Archaic to early Classical building. Although originally regarded as the temple of Aphrodite transferred from the site of Aineia, 20 km away, to host the cult of deified Caesar in the first century bce, more recent research on the sculpture suggests a Hadrianic date and a dedication to Dea Roma and Hadrian as Zeus Eleutherios (Stefanidou-Tiveriou 2012, 284). The cosmopolitan character of great urban centers like Beroia, Thessaloniki, and Philippoi allowed the gradual establishment of new, often mystic, cults, some of which became very popular. The evidence for them is provided by inscriptions, literature, and sculpture, but connecting these to actual building remains is not always possible. Egyptian gods were

Figure 15.5  Distribution map of religious sites (with architectural remains) and cemeteries. Digital drawing by Vassilis Evangelidis.

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worshiped in temples different from Greek or Roman forms, like the Serapeion discovered in Thessaloniki in the 1930s, now lost under modern buildings (Steimle 2008, 81–88). In this world of hybrid cultures, syncretism was unavoidable, as in the case of Zeus Hypsistos/ Capitoline Jupiter and Isis Locheia/ Artemis Eilitheia, whose Roman-style temples were added to the great sanctuary of Zeus Olympios in Dion (Pantermalis 2009). In rural areas, religious life continued in small shrines (Dionysos at Meneis Bottiaia), rustic sanctuaries (site Prophetes – Langadas), caves (to Apollo, Nymphs, and Pan at Siderokastro Serres), hilltops (cult of Zeus Hypsistos at Hagios Eleutherios Kozani, Psalida Kastoria, and Heraclea Lyncestis), and natural features (rocks). Next to the traditional deities that were worshiped in the villages and hamlets of Macedonia, a new deity was often associated, arising from the multicultural context of the Roman world. Examples include Zeus Hypsistos (especially during the second century ce in the area of Upper Macedonia; Chatzinikolaou 2010, 197–199), Artemis Ephesia (Chatzinikolaou 2010, 215–216), and Atargatis, the Syrian Goddess whose statue was carried from village to village by eunuch priests, as eloquently described by the author of Lucius, or the Ass (36–42).

Spectacle Buildings The Greeks held most of their dramatic and musical shows in stone-built monumental theaters, which occasionally functioned as places for public assemblies. Macedonia was not an exception, and a number of theaters of the Classical and Hellenistic period have been discovered (or are known by textual evidence) in sites such as Thasos, Aigae, Philippoi, Larissa, Demetrias, Maroneia, Dion, Mieza, Beroia, and Lychnidos (Di Napoli 2018, 322–323). Many, such as those at Dion, Philippoi, Thasos, Demetrias, Larissa, Mieza, and Lychnidos (Figure 15.3), continued to function in the Roman period, after undergoing significant alterations in accordance with the current Roman fashion: integration of the scene building to the sides of the cavea at Philippoi, and the erection of a tall columnar scaenae frons at Demetrias, Philippoi, and Thasos (Di Napoli 2018, 337). After the end of the first century ce, some theaters were converted into arenas for Roman gladiatorial and wild beast shows, which were becoming more popular in the Greek-speaking East (Di Napoli 2018, 326). This involved removing the lowest row of the cavea seats and building a tall podium wall to protect the viewers from the action in the arena (Sear 2006, 43). Evidence of this is seen in the theaters of Larissa, Lychnidos, Thasos, and Philippoi; indeed, the Hellenistic theater of Philippoi (Di Napoli 2018, 329) was transformed and enlarged in three phases into an arena that even had a fossa bestiaria, an underground space and lifting system that allowed the appearance of wild beasts (Di Napoli 2018, 330–331). Cities that had more than one theater, like Larissa, could convert one of them into an arena (the “large” Hellenistic theater) and use the other (“small” theater) for the usual theatrical or musical events (Sear 2006, 417–418). For many small or medium-size cities, however, their theater was made dual purpose by adding the necessary protective measures, such as a net or balustrades over the podium of the orchestra, just before arena games commenced. New theaters are rarer. Dion’s old extramural theater of the second half of the third century bce was abandoned during the early imperial period, replaced by a new Roman-type theater, probably Hadrianic or later, built closer to the sanctuary of Zeus Olympios for theatrical and musical contests associated with the cult (Diodorus Siculus XVII 16, 3–4; Di Napoli 2018, 323). Although the plan and vaulted construction of the cavea are typically Roman, the theater also had Greek features, such as an orchestra larger than a semicircle and a separate scene building. The latter also appear in the new 90 m diameter theater built at Stobi, probably at the beginning of the second century ce (Sear 2006, 419). Many inscriptions, some inscribed on the seats, indicate that the theater was also used for public assemblies, with the citizens seated in



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tribal units. In the Hadrianic period, Heraclea Lyncestis also got a new Roman-type theater, perhaps planned to include gladiatorial games from its origin: a temple dedicated to Nemesis, protector of gladiators, was built at the top of the cavea (Sear 2006, 417; Di Napoli 2018, 333). Smaller theatrical buildings, usually located in or close to the agora or forum, have been discovered in Thessaloniki, Dion, Thasos, and Beroia (Figure 15.3). Though often identified as odea, the distinction between odeon and bouleuterion is not always clear (Sear 2006, 38; Di Napoli 2018, 339). In Dion, a small, elaborate odeon of the late second century ce probably functioned as an akroaterion (lecture hall) for a lavishly built public complex, which also included a bath, a latrine, and shops (Di Napoli 2018, 324). Thessaloniki’s odeon, with its elaborate scaenae frons including three statues of Muses, was the central building of the east wing of the agora, replacing an older rectangular bouleuterion of the late first century ce (Adam-Veleni 2011, 556). Besides theaters, the evidence for other kinds of spectacle buildings is minimal (Di Napoli 2018, 339). Athletic and musical contests during the imperial period were known to have taken place in the stadium of Dion, a large late Classical earth-made construction that was situated outside the walls, near the sanctuary of Olympios Zeus (Di Napoli 2018, 323). Amphitheaters such as the one found in the Adriatic port of Dyrrachion (Durrës, Albania; see Di Napoli 2018, 339, n. 90) have not yet been found in Macedonia. Part of an unusual spectacle building combining features of a theater and stadium was discovered in Thessaloniki (Di Napoli 2018, 325, n. 20), close to the west end of the later Galerian palace. The building, though of unknown date, has been identified as the theatron stadion where Roman munera were held, according to early Christian sources (Adam-Veleni 2011, 558). During the Tetrarchic period (early fourth century), a large Hippodrome (450 m long and 95 m wide) was built next to the east city wall of Thessaloniki, as part of the Galerian palace that occupied a large part of the SE sector of the city. The ruins of this large building (seating foundations, vaulted substructures, podium walls, carceres, and part of the spina) have only been fragmentarily preserved, some of which can still be seen in the basements of a number of modern buildings (Zarmakoupi 2018, 273, n. 43).

Water-Related Buildings: Baths, Fountains, Aqueducts Cities in Macedonia were well provisioned with fresh water, since many were built near or next to rivers (Edessa, Amphipolis, Stobi), lakes (Argos Orestikon, Lychnidos), or natural springs (Kyrros), but it was Roman hydraulic technology and aqueducts that allowed water to evolve into something more than just a necessity. Water features – fountains, nymphaea, latrines, and, most importantly, baths – reflected a culture that could use the abundance of its resources for public benefit in the most spectacular way (Aristodemou and Tassios 2018). The best manifestation of this culture is, without a doubt, the Roman-style baths. Although the Greeks had been using a type of public bath (balaneion) since the late Classical period (Adam-Veleni 2011, 551), it was Roman baths, with their upgraded hydraulic and heating technology (praefurnium and tubuli), that transformed public bathing to an amenity basic to urban life. Their succession of rooms of different temperature (caldarium, frigidarium, tepidarium) and elaborate pools, reception halls, and apodyteria gradually became more popular in Greece after the end of the first century ce. Bath complexes ranging from the late first century ce to the fourth century ce have been discovered in urban and rural sites throughout the province (Figure 15.3). A great number of second century ce baths, some with elaborate mosaics and decoration, have been discovered in the last decade in Thessaly, at Larissa, Metropolis, Sykeon, Pthiotic Thebes, and Demetrias (Stamatopoulou 2012). The presence of such baths even in remote, less urbanized areas, such as the rural site Vromoneria Panagias in Upper Macedonia near Kozani, indicates that bathing was a widespread public practice, and one of the clearest signs of Roman material culture in the East.

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Naturally, large cities such as Thessaloniki, Beroia, Stobi, Philippoi, Edessa, and Larissa had more than one central public bath. Those in Thessaloniki, one under the basilica of St. Demetrius and one near the basilica St. Sophia (Adam-Veleni 2011, 557–558), were large, lavishly built complexes with monumental architectural features (Oulkeroglou 2018). Although not on the same scale as those in Thessaloniki, the baths in the center of the Roman colony of Dion, next to the forum (Zarmakoupi 2018, 290–291), and in the south part of the city of Philippoi feature decor like marble revetment, statues, and mosaic floors, upgrading public bathing to a leisure activity. This leisure was not restricted to bathing itself, but extended to other activities in secondary buildings; in Dion a small odeon, shops, and latrines were arranged around a central court. Outside city centers, baths have been found in residential districts at Thessaloniki, Larissa, Metropolis, Hypata, and Demetrias; sanctuaries such as those of Zeus Ammon at Aphytos, and the Asklepieion at Trikke; stations on the Via Egnatia like Bradashesh in Elbasan, Albania; villas and rural settlements such as Petres, Nesi, and Asprovalta; and in hot springs, e.g., the large (11 rooms, 1500 sq. m) and well-preserved baths at Bansko in the mountains of the Republic of North Macedonia (Kuzman 2008, 70). Among other water features, latrines have been found at Dion, Philippoi, and Stobi, and cisterns at Larissa and Philippoi. Great water fountains (krenai) were probably a central feature of many public spaces, as in the agora of Thessaloniki; in the Forum of Philippoi, two long cisterns (22 × 3 m, capacity 400 cubic m) framed the central speaker’s platform (rostra). Traces of aqueducts, reservoirs, and water pipes made out of clay or lead have been traced in various sites such as Demetrias, Larissa, Philippoi, and Neapolis; many, like the Mt. Chortiates aqueduct at Thessaloniki (Aristodemou and Tassios 2018, 50–69), continued in use through Byzantine, Ottoman, and early modern times. These aqueducts brought the water to reservoirs or cisterns, such as the tripartite one discovered in Larissa, 20 × 33 m (exterior dimensions) and 6 m deep, with a capacity of ca. 23503, its eastern face shaped into a monumental fountain (Stamatopoulou 2012, 85).

Domestic Architecture The Hellenistic period brought radical changes not just in the organization of public space but also in the form and structure of private space (Zarmakoupi 2018). Houses became substantially bigger and more open, including elaborate courts and rooms for leisure or guest reception, where the owner could display signs of wealth and status. Roman-period domestic architecture retained, and possibly enlarged, many of these developments. Such features are attested in impressive urban houses like the Casa Romana or House GR in Stobi (Kuzman 2008, 31), the Maison de fauves in Philippoi (Zarmakoupi 2018, 284–285) or the Villa Romana in Amphipolis (Zarmakoupi 2018, 278–279). Mosaic floors were used in reception or dining rooms, such as the impressive mosaic of the god Dionysos decorating a 100 sq. m room in a large urban villa in Dion (Zarmakoupi 2018, 290–291). Many such elaborate floors in rich houses have been discovered in prosperous cities of Thessaly, like Larissa, Trikke, and Hypata (Stamatopoulou 2012). Such mosaics probably adorned luxurious dining rooms where the rich owners could establish cliental ties with different social groups. The trend became more vivid with the late third century introduction of reception or dining halls with an elevated apse on one side (Zarmakoupi 2018, 295, n. 193), probably imitating throne rooms in the palaces of the late Roman emperors. Such rooms, adorned with mosaics, marble revetments, and fine furniture like the stibadium, a semicircular dining couch, elevated activities held within to the grandeur so necessary for the social status of many local men of power in the turbulent world of late antiquity. Thessaloniki’s group of twelve late Roman houses, dating from the third to sixth centuries ce, show some of the best examples of this kind of hall (Karagianni 2012; Zarmakoupi 2018, 271). The habitation quarters of the less prosperous classes often remain archaeologically elusive. Great apartment blocks like those of Ostia or Rome have not been found in Macedonia, since



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the urban population density that was the main reason for their construction was probably low. Recent research in Thessalian cities such as Demetrias and Metropolis has unearthed small neighborhoods with remains of houses, shops, baths, and, at Metropolis, a small temple, aligned along cobbled roads (Stamatopoulou 2012, 81).

Villas and Farms The construction of the modern Egnatia highway, which crosses the heart of Macedonia like its ancient predecessor, brought to light a number of rural sites, interpreted as villas or farmsteads (Figure 15.2; Adam-Veleni 2009). Most are of medium size, ranging between 200 and 400 sq. m, and the majority date to the middle and late imperial period. Great complexes like the impressive villas of Italy or Britain have not yet been discovered in Macedonia, though the large second century ce villas discovered at Baltaneto and Tsifliki, near Mieza, display signs of lavish living like mosaic floors, marble revetments, and fine wares. Very rare are Hellenistic farmsteads that survived the transition from the LH to ER period, such as the farm at the foot of Mt. Olympos at Pege Athinas (Adam-Veleni 2009, 12). Some villas/farmsteads were situated in close proximity to an urban center, as at Lete, Thessaloniki, Mieza, or Beroia, while others were in more rural areas, like those in the plain of Bottiaia, or Angista in the plain of Serres. At the latter site, a large complex (1100 sq. m) was built near the Via Egnatia, and many other farmsites adjoined major roads that allowed easy access to nearby villages or urban centers. In Lete, a small city on the outskirts of Thessaloniki, four villas were found clustered together within ca. 300–500 m distance, allowing us to imagine a peri-urban landscape dotted by such farms. In contrast to large, luxurious villas like that of Herodes Atticus in Arcadia, these smaller complexes had a distinct agrarian character, reflected in the various storage and food-processing facilities they possessed: pitheones for fermentation, wine or oil tanks, grain silos, stables, and – in one case from Beroia – a pescarium, or fish tank. Although some farms might have specialized in the production or processing of specific products, they all achieved a certain degree of sustainability through the storage of basic goods such as grain, wine, or oil. Those that were some distance from urban centers might have functioned as centers for the production of tools, vessels, and clothes at a local level. Undoubtedly, larger estates would have functioned as nuclei for surrounding rural settlements, but whether we can describe this system as “feudal” is debatable. For peri-urban villas, proximity to the city secured easy access to the great food markets, as well as to the necessary workforce and supplies. The plan of most such farms follows that of a typical Greek oikia, with habitation quarters, banquet halls, and storage or food processing facilities arranged around a central court. In larger complexes like “Farmstead C” in Lete, there were two courts, one of which was used only for food processing or manufacturing activities (Adam-Veleni 2009, 12). In contrast to the many early Christian period villas and estates, which were fortified and set in easily defensible positions, the villas and farmsteads of the ER period lacked defenses.

Fortifications In contrast to the great works of architecture and infrastructure undertaken during the three centuries of Pax Romana, Macedonian fortifications vividly reflect the turbulent period between the assassination of Alexander Severus in 235 ce and the rise of Diocletian in 283 ce. Constant changes in power, debasement of coinage, and the degradation of the traditional Roman military system resulted in a series of barbarian raids; the Herulian and Gothic invasions of 267 ce reached deep into the heart of the Greek peninsula. The defense of the empire could not depend solely on military units stationed on the remote limes, but each city had to

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take the initiative to reinforce its fortifications against the threat of raiders. Archaeology has provided evidence that a series of defensive works were built around the mid-third century in the cities of Macedonia, projects that seem to have been controlled and financed, not by the central authority, but independently by the cities in danger (Figure 15.3). There is scarce evidence for fortifications in the years before this. Apparently, some of the old Classical and Hellenistic circuits and forts, like the fort of Kalyva in Nestos, must have been repaired during the civil wars, or when the praetors of Macedonia had to face constant raids by tribes like the Celtic Scordisci. It was not until the mid-third century ce, however, that an almostfeverish effort to repair or rebuild old fortifications started. Where Hellenistic enceintes were not completely in ruins, extensive repairs were made, including adding towers at Beroia, strengthening stone masonry with mortar at Edessa, or even rebuilding parts of the wall with abundant reused material, such as grave stelai, altars, and parts of buildings. In the Roman colony of Dion, the 2580-m-long Hellenistic enceinte, left to decay and spoliation after the defeat of Perseus, was rebuilt (Stefanidou-Tiveriou 1998, 157–197). Spolia, vertical ashlars, architectural members, and sepulchral monuments formed the lower part of the wall, while the upper part was built in opus mixtum with alternating courses of concrete rubble and brick. Small rectangular towers with a ground floor strengthened the defense system (Stefanidou-Tiveriou 1998, 175). Although Dion’s fortifications were built with reused material, they were clearly not undertaken in haste, and seem to have been completed just before the middle of the third century. Around the same period, in Thessaloniki, a new circuit wall was built to face the first siege of the city by the Goths in 254 ce (Velenis 1998). It encompassed an area of 260  hectares, including less densely inhabited sections, like that in the southeast where the Galerian palace complex would later develop. The wall, 1.64  m wide, was reinforced by rectangular towers every 52 m, their size differing according to the terrain, and in areas deemed weak, especially in lowlands, an interior wall was added, doubling the enceinte’s width, in the fourth century ce. The fortifications of the urban centers probably instigated defensive works in smaller sites, towns, and small cities, such as the hastily built rubble wall, 1.40–2.10 m thick, protecting a still unidentified city (Europos?) in Almopia. On a much larger scale was the great wall (diateichisma) that isolated the peninsula of Kassandra from the hinterland. Although the wall in its current state is mainly early Christian, recent research has shown that its original phase dates back to the third century ce. There is debate about how the third century barbarian raids affected the life of urban and rural areas of the province. Though shocking for the stability of the empire, they did not seem to have the dramatic effect that later invasions had on daily life and social coherence. It is undeniable, however, that over the course of time, many cities, such as Isar (where a Roman castrum was built in the fourth century ce; Kuzman 2008, 66), were reduced to more defensible sizes or abandoned, and many rural settlements and villas were fortified or moved to highlands. Dozens of small fortified sites of 1 ha or more have been found in naturally defensible positions such as hilltops, mountain passes, or along the main roads, but their exact date cannot be accurately determined. Some of them were probably old Hellenistic forts, reemployed during the late Roman period.

Burial Grounds The most important feature of the peri-urban environment was the cemeteries covering free land outside the gates (Chatzinikolaou and Terzopoulou 2012). Extensive cemeteries with Roman phases have been traced in every major city of the region, including Thessaloniki, Philippoi, Stobi, Beroia, Edessa, Amphipolis, Pella, Dion, Thasos, and Demetrias (Figure 15.5), as well as in smaller cities like Berge in Eastern Macedonia or Isar in the Republic of North Macedonia, rural settlements like Pontokomi in Aiane, Strovolos and Stavros in Kerdyllia, Lithochori (Kavala), Potamoi (Drama), and Gomati Chalkidike, or even villas such



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as in Pege Athenas (Pieria) or in Velestino (Thessaly). In large urban centers, the preexisting cemetery usually expanded toward any available space, but quite often Roman-period graves were dug among older burials. The organization of space was generally loose, and quite often graves, monuments, and other peri-urban features like workshops were intermingled. Citizens who organized in collegia could afford burial in complexes of graves built in separated fenced areas, while the more prosperous, such as the senator T. Claudius Lycus in Thessaloniki, preferred their own private grounds, often carefully landscaped to resemble gardens. Eye-catching, lavishly decorated burial monuments, including sarcophagi, whose popularity increased after the second century ce, were located near the gates or main roads to cities, according to the social status of the deceased. The usual burial continued to be inhumation, in a variety of grave types, from simple pit graves covered by tiles or slabs, to vaulted tombs (below), elaborate sarcophagi, and, occasionally, buildings, such as cubicula or mausolea at Thessaloniki, and heroa at Palatiano and Stratoni. Vaulted tombs with opus caementicium roofs became very popular after the third century ce and are normally found in groups with their own yard for rituals or funerary dinners. In many sites in north or east Macedonia, the native Thracian population continued to be buried as cremations or inhumations under earth or stone tumuli, quite often accompanied by their horses, weapons, or even four-wheeled carriages like that found at Doxipara (Evros region, Greece). Roman-period tumulus cemeteries have been found in Greece at Potamoi Drama, Lithochori Kavala, and Mikro Dasos Kilkis, in Bulgaria at Vizegrad, and in the Republic of North Macedonia at Gusterova Chukarka at Mt. Ograzhden.

Roads and Streets The largest project of the Roman authority in the early years after Macedonia’s conquest was without doubt the construction of a military road, the Via Egnatia, from the shores of the Adriatic sea at Dyrrachion and Apollonia to the river Evros, a distance of 535 Roman miles (Strabo, Geography 7.7.4; Lolos 2007). It was designed and built as a single project ca. 146 to 120 bce, after a long period of upheaval caused by constant barbarian raids and successive revolts. The name of the builder, the proconsul Cn. Egnatius, is preserved on two of the milestones that marked the distance from Dyrrachion, Apollonia, or the closest urban center; 40 of the original 535 milestones have been found along the route. As with other Roman roads, the Via Egnatia replaced parts of an older network that crossed upper and central Macedonia – for example, the mountainous Candavia road. Its route across Macedonia has been reconstructed with the help of ancient itineraria, milestones, physical remains of the road surface, bridges, and road stations (Figure 15.2; Zarmakoupi 2018, 262–264). Due to its advantageous position, Thessaloniki held a central place on the route, connecting with another major road that followed the valley of Axios toward Stobi and the Danube area. The road’s construction depended on the different conditions and terrain types. A large section discovered near Philippoi was founded on a layer of small stones and gravel topped by packed earth, while the bed of the road itself was made of slabs and small stones. In areas where the 8 m width of the road allowed opposite lanes, there was often a divider in the middle. Stone-built bridges supported the road across the many rivers it encountered along its way, as at Kyrros, Gephyra, and Philippoi; at least eighteen more bridges with possible Roman phases have been recorded, and one found over the Genusus (Shkumbin) river in Albania reached at least 450 m in length (Lolos 2007, 284). Journeys along Via Egnatia, at an estimated 40–60 km per day, were supported by stations offering food and accommodation (mansiones and mutationes). Most of their names are known from the late Roman Itinerarium Antonini or Tabula Peutingeriana, but a secure archaeological identification is often more difficult. One, an elaborate building including its own bath and nymphaeum near Elbasan in Albania, was possibly the station Ad Quintum. Others were

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probably more humble, with rooms around a central court, barns, facilities for the pack animals, and often baths, like the Mutatio Scurrio found near Kyrros in central Macedonia. A number of other, smaller roads besides Via Egnatia allowed contact with the Balkans or southern Greece, and sections of them have been discovered, mainly in mountain passes (Figure 15.2). Streets, large and small, have been found in a number of cities, usually following the preexisting urban plan’s orientation, but sometimes deviating, as in Philippoi or Thessaloniki, where the Roman grid is 5 degrees off the Hellenistic grid. Small streets were normally constructed of packed earth or gravel, but more centrally located ones had cobbled or even marble-paved surfaces and lateral gutters, as at Thasos or Thessaloniki. In major cities like Edessa, Beroia, and Thessaloniki, main arteries often attained a monumental form with the addition of stoas, becoming colonnaded streets. Monumentalization of streets and of city entrances was attained by the construction of elaborate gates or arches, like the four small single-bay arches marking the entrance to the forum of the colony of Philippoi (second century ce), or the large Severan triple-bay arch in Thasos. A large, single-bay arch that spanned Via Egnatia at the border of the territory of Philippoi is unique.

Regional Traits and Characteristics As with all other provinces, the obvious question is, how deeply was the provincial landscape of Macedonia affected by Roman conquest and control? Due to its early contact with Rome, Macedonia could have received Roman material culture earlier than the rest of Greece, though thus far the evidence is inconclusive. Archaeological evidence does indicate that Rome’s takeover brought a series of changes in territorial organization, land ownership, site as well as social hierarchy, and settlement patterns. After a difficult late Hellenistic period, the stabilization of social and economic conditions, a prolonged period of peace, enhanced connectivity, and increased exploitation of rich natural resources seem to have led to growth between the late first and early third century ce. Although undeniably important, all these developments do not necessarily indicate a sharp break with the pre-Roman era. Cities remained the political, economic, and cultural focus of social life (Papazoglou 1988); the traditional bond between town and country that characterized the Classical polis remained intact until late antiquity, while many rural communities continued to follow their traditional organization and productive systems (Rizakis 2013, 31). Nonetheless, during the long imperial period, the cultural context of Macedonia – and along with it, many traditional societal and administrative habits and structures – gradually began to change (Lolos 2007, 279–283). The process of integration into the empire poses questions about the formation of identity that are difficult to analyze here. Over the long period between the defeat of Perseus and the rise of Galerius, a process of cultural blending that started earlier, under the Macedonian kings, continued (Hatzopoulos 1996, 70). New factors, like widely distributed material objects, the imperial cult, and the prevalence of a common lifestyle throughout the empire enhanced connectivity and homogeneity. Large urban centers played an important role in this development, as the base of the Romanized local elite, and the location where many of these features and trends were first introduced, tested, and established. The cities gradually incorporated all the features that characterized Roman urban life: provision of high-quality services, religious pluralism, a variety of spectacles, and commercial facilities, all in a monumental landscape (Evangelidis 2010, 293–294). Roman colonies and large regional centers like Thessaloniki supported their character as centers of power through large-scale architecture. Despite the gradual rise of villae rusticae, a large part of the countryside continued to live as in the past, in agricultural, pastoral, or mining communities organized near their productive zones, using traditional religious sites.



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However, this was not a landscape unresponsive to developments in the wider Roman world. Archaeological evidence shows that even remote areas were open to new influences, trends, and architectural types (e.g., baths), possibly channeled through the villas, roads and road stations, or the nearest urban centers. In Macedonia, many of the features of the architectural landscape, both urban and rural, date after the end of the first century ce. As in Achaea, that seems to be the point after which Roman-type buildings and construction techniques started to appear more frequently. Between the reign of the Flavians and the barbarian raids of the third century ce, building projects carried out in the cities of the province, as in Thessaloniki, Stobi, Philippoi, Dion, and possibly Beroia, radically transformed urban landscapes. If building activity can be regarded as a concise indicator of prosperity, the second and the early third centuries ce were undeniably a period of growth. Imperial interest might have played a role, but most important was the stabilization of financial and social conditions, allowing the agents of modernization – mainly members of the local elite – to invest in great building projects and urban growth (Nigdelis 2007, 77). The architecture of the region took features coming from both the great repertoire of Greek architecture and the contemporary architecture of the Roman world (Zarmakoupi 2018, 293). The Greeks selectively adopted some Roman building types, such as baths or latrines, while others, like basilicas, podium temples, or amphitheaters, never had the popularity they had in the western provinces, at least outside Roman colonies. Development of the architectural landscape followed the same path as in other regions of the Roman world, with emphasis on function and monumentality (Evangelidis 2010, 293). This is reflected in features like the impressive second century ce façade Las Incantadas, which until the 1860s stood south of the agora of Thessaloniki, in the Jewish quarter of the post-antique city, and is now in the Louvre. Like other areas of the Aegean world, Macedonia had a long tradition of ashlar masonry and an abundance of wood and good-quality stones, both marbles and limestone, factors that played a role in the hesitation to adopt Roman building techniques. Nonetheless, Roman brick-and-mortar building material became more frequent after the end of the first century ce (Vitti 1993). Opus testaceum is very rare; the most common masonry style was opus mixtum – zones of stone masonry alternating with zones of bricks, covering the whole width of the wall (Vitti 1993, 1695). Due to the lack of good-quality raw material for Roman cement and fewer brick factories (figlinae), opus mixtum was probably a local, affordable attempt to exploit the advantages of building in brick. Occasionally, opus caementicium was used for bold architectural solutions, such as the cryptoporticus of the south side of the agora of Thessaloniki (Zarmakoupi 2018, 295), or to create large, vaulted internal spaces for thermae or odea. Beneath the surface of these innovations, many traditional architectural features, construction techniques, and practices continued to play a significant role in forming the living environment. The reconstructed early Classical temple in Thessaloniki and the reuse of the old frieze in the basilica of Dion indicate that sometimes the past was not just carefully preserved, but reconstructed as part of a cultural memory or identity formation process. Macedonia shared a similar path of development with Achaea during the imperial period. As provinces far from productive zones and frontiers, both played a minor role in the imperial administrative structure, and this might have influenced the formation of their landscapes (Alcock 1993, 224). Beneath this similarity, however, lie many differences, in Macedonia’s proximity to the Balkans, its early contact with Rome, its relatively low level of urbanization, and its sizable economy, which played their own role in the process we conventionally call Romanization. As more archaeological evidence comes to light in both rescue and systematic excavations, it is becoming clear that the provincial landscape of Macedonia is characterized by a regional individuality whose multiplicity is still to be discovered.

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Acknowledgments The author wishes to express his gratitude to Prof. T. Stefanidou-Tiveriou for kindly reading and making valuable comments on this chapter.

Biographical Note Vassilis Evangelidis is Scientific Associate in Classical and Digital Archaeology at the Athena Research and Innovation Center in Information, Communication & Knowledge Technologies, and co-organizer of the Roman Seminar in Athens, dedicated to research in all facets of society of Roman Greece. He has published widely on the implementation of digital technology in archaeology as well as on Roman Greece, especially the agoras of Greek cities. His latest monograph is The Archaeology of Roman Macedonia (Oxbow 2022).

REFERENCES Adam-Veleni, Polyxeni. 2009. “Farmhouses in Macedonia: The Beginning of ‘Feudalism’?” 20 χρόνια. Το Αρχαιολογικό Έργο στη Μακεδονία και στη Θράκη, 20: 1–15. Adam-Veleni, Polyxeni. 2011. “Thessaloniki.” In Brill’s Companion to Ancient Macedon: Studies in the Archaeology and History of Macedon, 650 BC – 300 AD, edited by Robin J. Lane Fox, 545–562. Leiden: Brill. Alcock, Susan E. 1993. Graecia Capta: The Landscapes of Roman Greece. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Aristodemou, Georgia, and Theodosios Tassios, eds. 2018. Great Waterworks in Roman Greece. Aqueducts and Monumental Fountain Structures. Function in Context. Oxford: Archaeopress. Bintliff, John. 2012. The Complete Archaeology of Greece: From Hunter – Gatherers to the 20th Century AD. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell. Chatzinikolaou, Kalliopi. 2010. “Locating Sanctuaries in Upper Macedonia According to Archaeological Data.” Kernos, 23: 193–222. Chatzinikolaou, Kalliopi, and Domna Terzopoulou. 2012. “The Cemeteries of Roman Thessaloniki.” In Field, House, Garden, Grave, edited by Polyxeni Adam-Veleni and Domna Terzopoulou, 104–121. Thessaloniki: Ziti publications. Di Napoli, Valentina. 2018. “Buildings for Entertainment in Roman Macedonia. Between Continuity and Rupture with the Past,” In Les communautés du nord Égéen au temps de l’hégémonie romaine. Entre rupture et continuités, edited by Julien Fournier and M. G. Parissaki, 321–340, Meletemata 77. Athens: Fondation nationale de la recherche scientifique, Institut de recherches historiques. Evangelidis, Vassilis. 2010. Οι αγορές των ελληνικών πόλεων από τη ρωμαϊκή κατάκτηση ως τον 3ο αι. μ.Χ. Thessaloniki: University Studio Press. Evangelidis, Vassilis. 2014. “Agoras and Fora: Developments in the Central Public Space of the Cities of Greece during the Roman Period.” The Annual of the British School at Athens, 109: 335–356. Evangelidis, Vassilis. 2019. “Macella and Makelloi in Roman Greece: Archaeological and Textual Evidence Concerning Food Markets during the Imperial Period.” Hesperia, 88, no. 2: 283–318. Falezza, Giovanna. 2012. I santuari della Macedonia romana: Persistenze e cambiamenti del paesagio sacro provinciale tra II secolo AC e IV secolo DC. Roma: Quasar Edizioni. Hatzopoulos, Miltiades B. 1996. Macedonian Institutions under the Kings: A Historical and Epigraphic Study. Meletemata 22. Athens: Kentron Hellēnikēs kai Rōmaïkēs Archaiotētos. Karagianni, Flora. 2012. “The Urban House in Macedonia in Late Antiquity (4th – 6th century AD).” In Threpteria: Studies on Ancient Macedonia, edited by M. Tiverios, P. Nigdelis, and P. Adam-Veleni, 64–98. Thessaloniki: Ekdoseis A.P. Th.–Auth Press.



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Kostoglou, Maria. 2008. Iron and Steel in Ancient Greece: Artefacts, Technology and Social Change in Aegean Thrace from Classical to Roman Times. British Archaeological Reports International Series 1883. Oxford: John and Erica Hedges Ltd. Kuzman, Pasko, ed. 2008. Archaeological Sites: Macedonian Cultural Heritage. Skopje: Unesco. Lolos, Yiannis. 2007. “Via Egnatia after Egnatius: Imperial Policy and Inter-regional Contacts.” Mediterranean Historical Review, 22: 273–293. Mentzos, Aristoteles. 2010. “Reflections on the Architectural History of the Tetrarchic Palace at Thessalonike.” In From Roman to Early Christian Thessalonike: Studies in Religion and Archaeology, edited by Laura Nasrallah, Charalambos Bakirtzis, and Steven Friesen, 332–359. Harvard: Harvard University Press. Nigdelis, Pantelis. 2007. “Roman Macedonia (168 BC – AD 284).” In The History of Macedonia, edited by I. Koliopoulos, 51–86. Thessaloniki: Museum of the Macedonian Struggle Foundation. Oulkeroglou, Anastasios. 2018. Οι λουτρικές εγκαταστάσεις στη Μακεδονία κατά τη ρωμαϊκή αυτοκρατορική και την πρωτοβυζαντινή περίοδο. Thessaloniki: Thessaloniki University Press. Pantermalis, Dimitrios. 2000. “Δίον 2000.” Το Αρχαιολογικό Έργο στη Μακεδονία και στη Θράκη, 14: 377–382. Pantermalis, Dimitrios. 2009. “Δίον: Ιστορικά και Λατρευτικά.” 20 χρόνια. Το Αρχαιολογικό Έργο στη Μακεδονία και στη Θράκη, 20: 261–272. Papazoglou, Fanoula. 1988. Les villes de Macedoine à l’époque romaine. Bulletin de correspondance hellénique. Supplément, 16. Athens: École française de Athènes. Rizakis, Athanasios D. 2013. “Rural Structures and Agrarian Strategies in Greece Under Roman Rule.” In Villae Rusticae. Family and Market Oriented Farms in Greece under Roman Rule. Proceedings of an International Congress Held at Patras 23-24 April 2010, edited by A. D. Rizakis and I. Touratsoglou, Meletemata 68, 21–51. Athens: National Hellenic Research Foundation, Institute of Historical Research. Russell, Ben J. 2013. “Gazetteer of Stone Quarries in the Roman World (Version1.0).” Accessed March 18, 2016. http://www.romaneconomy.ox.ac.uk/databases/stone_quarries_database Sear, Frank. 2006. Roman Theatres: An Architectural Study. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Sielhorst, Barbara. 2015. Hellenistische Agorai: Gestaltung, Rezeption und Semantik eines urbanen Raumes. Urban Spaces 3. Berlin: De Gruyter. Stamatopoulou, Maria. 2012. “Archaeology in Greece 2011–2012.” Archaeological Reports, 58: 75–95. Stefanidou-Tiveriou, Theodosia. 1998. Ανασκαφή Δίου: Η Οχύρωση. Thessaloniki: University Studio Press. Stefanidou-Tiveriou, Theodosia. 2009. “Die Palastanlage des Galerius in Thessaloniki: Planung und Datierung.” In Diocletian, Tetrarchy and Diocletian’s Palace on the 1700th anniversary of Existence, edited by Nenad Cambi, J. Belamarić, and Tomislav Marasović, 389–410. Split: Krug. Stefanidou-Tiveriou, Theodosia. 2012. “Τα λατρευτικά αγάλματα του ναού του Διός και της Ρώμης στη Θεσσαλονίκη.” In Κλασική παράδοση και νεωτερικά στοιχεά στην πλαστική της ρωμαϊκής Ελλάδας, Πρακτικά Διεθνούς Συνεδρίου, 7-9 Μαίου 2009, edited by T. Stefanidou-Tiveriou, P. Karanastasi, and D. Damaskos, 273–286. Thessaloniki: University Studio Press. Steimle, Christopher. 2008. Religion im Römischen Thessaloniki: Sakraltopographie, Kult und Gesellschaft 168 v.Chr.-324 n.Chr. Tübingen: Siebeck. Talbert, Richard J., ed. 2000. Barrington Atlas of the Greek and Roman World. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Velenis, Georgios. 1998. The Walls of Thessaloniki from the Time of Cassander up to that of Heraclius. Thessaloniki: University Studio Press. Vitti, Massimo, 1993. “Υλικά και τρόποι δόμησης στη Μακεδονία κατά τους ρωμαϊκούς αυτοκρατορικούς χρόνους.” In Ancient Macedonia V, 3 vols, edited by the Διεθνές Συμπόσιο για την Αρχαία Μακεδονία. Thessaloniki: Institute for Balkan Studies. Zarmakoupi, Mantha. 2018. “Urban Space and Housing in Roman Macedonia.” In Les communautés du nord Égéen au temps de l’hégémonie romaine. Entre rupture et continuités, edited by Julien Fournier and Marie Gabrielle Parissaki, Meletemata 77, 263–298. Athens: Fondation nationale de la recherche scientifique, Institut de recherches historiques.

CHAPTER 16

Epirus David R. Hernandez

Introduction Situated in what is today southern Albania and northwestern Greece, Epirus has often been described as a distant land by ancient and modern observers alike (Figure 16.1; Cross 1932, vii; Panagiotis 2018, 216). Arriving in Epirus in 48 bce in pursuit of Pompeius Magnus, Julius Caesar (Civil War 3.42) viewed the land as harsh (aspera) and mountainous (montuosa), noting that the region produced a plentiful supply of cattle (pecus) but little grain. His army survived on meat and a native root called chara (Civil War 3.48). Despite the impressions from ancient literary sources, Epirus was neither remote nor isolated. While it is true that its mountainous landscape imposed barriers of communication in the interior, the coastal territory of Epirus was frequented by seafarers and had been coveted by foreign powers since the beginning of Greek colonization in the eighth century bce (Cabanes 2008). Its coastline on the Strait of Otranto served historically as an intermediate territory between Greece and Italy. Epirus became a definable region in the western Balkans through a complex process of acculturation that began during the period of early Greek colonial activity (Malkin 2001). The Greek word epeiros (ή’ πειρος) originally meant “dryland,” in contradistinction to the sea. It appears in the phrase “land and sea” in the works of Homer (Iliad 1.485; Odyssey 3.90, 10.56) and Hesiod (Works and Days 624). Before the end of the seventh century bce, a string of Greek colonial settlements had been founded along the region’s strategic ports and islands: Epidamnos (Dyrrachium), Apollonia, Korkyra (Corcyra), Bouthrotos (Buthrotum), Orikos (Oricum), Ambracia, Leukas, and Anaktorion (Funke, Moustakis, and Hochschulz 2004). From the colonial and merchant perspectives of Greeks, the land appearing opposite Italy, running down to the Corinthian Gulf along the Ionian coast, came to be identified as epeiros, a term that meant terra firma, or “the mainland.” By the fourth century bce, the toponym encompassed a more restricted area distinct from Akarnania, running from the Gulf of Aulon to the Gulf of Ambracia, as far inland as the Pindus Mountains (Hammond 1967, 476). The most renowned site in Epirus was the Oracle of Dodona, situated in the southern interior. It was widely considered to be the oldest Hellenic oracle (Herodotus 1.46).

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Figure 16.1  Regional map of Epirus and Butrint (inset). By D. Hernandez, Roman Forum Excavations Project at Butrint.

Nevertheless, legends and stories transmitted through oral traditions and set into writing in the Archaic period demonstrate that Greeks had long considered Epirus to be at the edge of the known world, beyond which lay monsters and Hades itself. Two rivers to the underworld, the Kokytos and Acheron, flowed through Epirus. The Nekyomanteion (Oracle of the Dead) occupied a hill overlooking their juncture near the coast of the Ionian Sea (Odyssey 10.513, 11.23; Herodotus 5.92.7). This is the region where the souls of the dead were thought to descend into Hades and where Heracles, Theseus, Odysseus, and other legendary heroes were said to have journeyed into the underworld. Memories of the perceived antiquity and liminality of Epirus endured into the Roman period. Gaius Coelius Caldus, consul in 94 bce, wrote that the tomb of Medea was located at Buthrotum (Solinus 2.28–31). Dionysius of Halicarnassus (Roman Antiquities 1.51.1), writing in the age of Augustus, remarked that ancient bronze votive kraters, dedicated and inscribed by Aeneas, continued to exist at Dodona in his own day. For much of its history before its incorporation into the Roman Empire, Epirus was politically fragmented. Herodotus and Thucydides, for example, did not conceive of the region as a unified topographical entity, but rather as a territory controlled by autonomous tribes (ethne). Theopompos of Chios (FGrH 115 F382) numbered them at fourteen in the

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mid-fourth century bce. In contrast to the urbanized Greek colonies (poleis) on the coast, the Epirote tribes lived in unwalled villages during the Archaic and Classical periods, under a political system of multi-tiered koina (Pseudo-Skylax 28–2; Hammond 1967; Cabanes 1999). The most prominent Epirote tribes occupied territories along the coast and in the interior north of the Gulf of Ambracia. When the first indigenous urban centers emerged in the second half of the fourth century bce, their capitals were situated in the inland tribal areas (e.g., Phoinike in Chaonia, Gitani and Elea in Thesprotia, Kassope in Kassopia, and Passaron in Molossia) (Funke 2009). The boundaries of pre-Roman Epirus were dynamic, contested internally among the Epirote tribes and externally by neighboring powers – Illyria to the north, Macedonia and Thessaly to the east, and Akarnania to the south. King Pyrrhus (319–272 bce) of Molossia consolidated Epirus and expanded its dominion to its greatest territorial extent with the incorporation of southern Illyria and Akarnania (Meyer 2013, 126–129). With kinship ties to Alexander the Great, Pyrrhus governed one of the most powerful kingdoms in the Mediterranean at the time, famously coming to the defense of the Greek cities of southern Italy against Rome. Pyrrhus founded cities such as Antigonea and Berenice, constructed immense fortifications throughout Epirus, and built numerous urban monuments, including the theaters at Dodona, Phoinike, and possibly Bouthrotos (Hernandez and Hodges 2020b, 296, 300). Pyrrhus’s relocation of the capital of the Molossian kingdom from Passaron to Ambracia marks the end of a process that began on the coast under the Greek colonies: the integration of the Epirote tribes into the Mediterranean networks of seaborne trade and communication. Over the course of the second century bce, Rome’s incorporation of Epirus into the empire brought about a new phase of acculturation in which a dominant Hellenized Roman culture commingled with one previously formed under external influences of Greeks, Illyrians, and Macedonians. From the time of Hesiod (Catalogue of Women 181) down to the Roman Empire, historical accounts of Epirus repeatedly made reference to pastoralism and animal husbandry, recalling an enduring source of livelihood in the region. On the northern frontier of Epirus, Oricum was the Balkan seaport closest to Italy. From its port, Roman generals embarked their armies laden with booty to return to Italy after conquests in Greece and Macedonia, as did Titus Quinctius Flamininus in 194 bce and Lucius Aemilius Paullus in 167 bce (Livy 34.50, 34.52, 45.34; Polybius, 30.15; Strabo, Geography 7.7.3; Plutarch, Aemilius Paullus 29). Caesar (Civil War 3.6) made his furtive landing in Epirus, just south of Oricum, after bypassing Pompeius’s naval blockade. The decisive naval battle of the subsequent civil war was fought off the coast of Epirus at Actium in 31 bce. Nikopolis, the “Victory City,” built by Augustus to commemorate the battle, instantaneously became the foremost city of Epirus, and later, under Trajan, the capital of the Roman province.

Scholarship The history of archaeological research in Epirus is inextricably tied to its partition between the countries of Greece and Albania. During the First World War, the Great Powers apportioned northern Epirus to the newly established country of Albania, despite Greece’s protest. The “Northern Epirus Question” arose in the late nineteenth century, alongside Albanian nationalism, and has since remained a contentious issue, no more so than in the time of Enver Hoxha, who ruled communist Albania from 1945 to 1985. Hoxha looked to Albanian archaeologists to bolster claims of the purported Illyrian ancestry and autochthony of the Albanian people, particularly in respect to the contested region of northern Epirus. Hoxha vigorously funded archaeological fieldwork, with an aim to define Albanian identity (Veseli 2006). In 1971, two archaeological journals, Iliria and Monumentet, were established,



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the former dedicated to field research, the latter to historical monuments and conservation. Before then, archaeological fieldwork had been published together with history, linguistics, and ethnography in Studime Historike (Historical Studies), a series that began in 1946 under the name Buletini i Institutit të Studimeve (Bulletin of the Institute of Research). Under Hoxha, Dhimosten Budina became the leading archaeologist in northern Epirus, directing a survey of the region and undertaking excavations at its major ancient urban centers, which included Antigonea, Buthrotum (Butrint), Hadrianopolis, Onchesmos (Saranda), Oricum, and Phoinike (Budina 1971, 1988; Ceka 2013, 13–30). Greek archaeologists have considered northern Epirus to be ethnically Greek since antiquity. The first systematic excavations in Epirus took place in 1875 at the site of the Oracle of Zeus and Dione at Dodona, under the direction of Constantin Carapanos (1878), a Greek antiquarian and native of Epirus. In 1914, Dimitrios Evangelidis, also from Epirus, investigated Onchesmos, aiming to show the Greek heritage of northern Epirus. Sotirios Dakaris was the leading Greek archaeologist in southern Epirus after the Second World War, directing regional surveys and undertaking excavations at major ancient urban centers, which included Ambracia (Arta), Ammotopos, Dodona, Gitana, Kassope, Mesopotamos (Preveza), and Nikopolis (Dakaris 1971, 1972; Leekley and Efstratiou 1980, 39–56). The archaeology of Greece—and by extension, that of southern Epirus—have been deeply influenced by notions of Hellenism, which views Greece as the birthplace of European civilization. Albanian and Greek archaeologists, operating under opposing political ideologies and nationalist interests, nevertheless focused on the same issue of regional ancestry that prioritized the prehistoric and pre-Roman archaeology of Epirus. Foreign archaeologists were also drawn to the Greek ancestry of Epirus. One of the earliest attempts to examine systematically the material remains of Epirus as a region was undertaken by Stewart S. Clarke in 1923 (Hodges 2017, 2020). After he died the following year in a boating accident, his work was carried on by N. G. L. Hammond (1967), who undertook a groundbreaking study of Epirus from prehistoric to Hellenistic times. Italian archaeologist Luigi M. Ugolini conducted excavations at Phoinike, and with the rise of fascism and the colonialist ambitions of Mussolini’s Italy, he transferred his expedition to Butrint in 1928, where he discovered the theater and sanctuary of Asklepios and brought to light major monuments of Roman Butrint (Ugolini 1932, 1937, 1942, 2003a). Starting in the 1960s, Eric S. Higgs studied prehistoric Epirus, directing fieldwork in Thesprotia and at sites in the hinterland of Ioannina and Preveza. Archaeological research across Epirus has transformed dramatically since the early 1990s. In Albania, it began with the establishment of democracy and the opening of the country to foreign collaboration. In 1991–1995, a joint Greek and Albanian archaeological team investigated the acropolis of Butrint (Arafat and Morgan 1995). From 1994 to 2008, the Butrint Foundation fielded a British-Albanian archaeological project, under the scientific direction of Richard Hodges, to examine the diachronic archaeology of Butrint and its hinterland (Hodges, Bowden, and Lako 2004; Hodges 2006, 2013). Other major projects in northern Epirus include an Italian-Albanian project at Phoinike (De Maria and Gjongecaj 2011), an Italian-Albanian project at Hadrianopolis (Perna and Çondi 2012), a Swiss-Albanian project at Oricum (Bereti et al. 2013), a Greek-Albanian project at Antigonea (Zachos et al. 2006), and an American-Albanian project at Butrint (Hernandez 2017a, 2020; Hernandez and Çondi 2018). In southern Epirus, the Nikopolis Project carried out the first intensive surface survey in Epirus in the hinterland of Nikopolis (Isager 2001a; Wiseman and Zachos 2003). At Kassope, Dakaris continued a collaborative project with the German Archaeological Institute beginning in 1976. Kalliopi Preka-Alexandri directed fieldwork at Gitana in Thesprotia from 1986–1997. Since 2004, a Finnish-Greek project has conducted intensive surface surveys of Thesprotia (Forsén 2009; Forsén and Tikkala 2011; Forsén, Galanidou, and Tikkala 2016).

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Numerous articles about investigations in southern Epirus have been published in the Greek journals Epeirotika Chronika, Archaiologikon Deltion, Ergon, and Praktika tes Archaiologikes Etaireias and on research of Albanian and Greek Epirus in the quinquennial conference proceedings L’Illyrie méridionale et l’Épire dans l’antiquité. The editor of the latter series, Pierre Cabanes (1976), specializes in the Greek epigraphy and history of Epirus. Several seminal studies concerning the Latin epigraphy (Anamali, Ceka, and Deniaux 2009; LIA) and numismatics (Franke 1961; RPC) of Epirus have been published, in addition to notable edited volumes and regional studies (Sakellariou 1997; Bowden 2003; BerrangerAuserve 2007; Antonetti 2010; Veikou 2012). Two regional archaeological studies of Chaonia in northern Epirus have also been produced (Giorgi and Bogdani 2012; Podini 2014; Hernandez 2016), as well as studies of Hellenistic ceramics (Gamberini 2016) and Hellenistic agorai (Rinaldi 2020) in Epirus. Relatively little attention has been given to Epirus under the Roman Empire (first to third centuries ce). Notable exceptions include studies of Roman ceramic production and distribution (Reynolds 2018), and so-called Romanization (Deniaux 2002; Shpuza 2016; Hernandez 2018).

Epirote Ethnicity Epirote ethnicity has been a subject of considerable debate (Hammond 1967, 422–423; Cabanes 1976, 1979, 1988; Wilkes 1992, 102–104; Hatzopoulos 1997, 140–145; Malkin 1998, 142–150). Hammond argued that the Molossians, Thesprotians, Kassopians, and “probably some other tribes” spoke West Greek. Despite an extensive discourse concerning Epirote language, Hammond offered no opinion on the language of the Chaonians. Cabanes drew the line at the Acheron River for the extent of Greek speech in Epirus, following the same boundary that Herodotus ascribed to the Greek allies who participated in the Persian War. He posited that the Chaonians spoke Illyrian, the Molossians and Thesprotians spoke Greek, and that bilingualism was prevalent throughout the region. In his view, the Chaonians were semi-Illyrian and the Thesprotians and Molossians were semi-Greek, with southern Illyrians and Epirotes bound together by a similar “way of life.” Cabanes’s view, formulated in his doctoral thesis, was received by Albanian academics with great enthusiasm and helped cement his standing in the country as the foremost authority over its Greek epigraphy and ethnic antiquity. This was at a time when he and Hammond were among the few foreign scholars permitted to enter Albania. Establishing cultural parity between Illyria and northern Epirus was a chief objective of the Communist government, stemming from the “Northern Epirus Question.” While not impossible, the notion of an ancient linguistic or ethnic division within Epirus is unlikely. The Chaonians probably spoke northwest Doric Greek, the same dialect used elsewhere in Epirus and in Akarnania (Dosuna 1985, 17–20; Panagiotis 2018, 243). In the ancient sources, Chaonians always operate with Greeks and other Epirote tribes and are never identified or affiliated with Illyrian tribes. They appear as the most prominent tribe in Epirus during the Peloponnesian War, allied to Corinth and campaigning with the Greek colony of Ambracia (Thucydides 2.68.9, 2.80.5–6). In the Epidaurian list of theorodokoi, the Chaonians are listed alongside Greek cities, colonies, and the tribes of southern Epirus (IG IV2.1 95). When Caesar (Civil War 3.9, 3.11) arrived in Epirus in 48 bce, he referred to the inhabitants of Oricum (in Chaonia) as Graeci, whereas he categorized the Illyrians as barbarians. Thucydides conceived of the Epirotes as barbarians because of a perceived backwardness in social organization and way of life, not language (Malkin 2001, 188–194). Essentially, the historiography of Epirote ethnicity is obscured by and, to some degree, suffused with modern political (conflicts of) interests.



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Roman Imperialism and the Establishment of the Province In 167 bce, following a decree of the Senate, Aemilius Paullus plundered Molossia and other towns in Thesprotia and Kassopia that switched allegiance in the midst of the Third Macedonian War (Polybius 30.15; Livy 43.21.4, 45.34.5; Strabo, Geography 7.7.3; Pliny the Elder, Natural History 3.39; Plutarch, Aemilus Paullus 29.4). The Romans reportedly enslaved 150,000 inhabitants and razed seventy towns (oppida) (Ziolkowski 1986). With the plunder, Paullus celebrated one of the most spectacular triumphs recorded in Roman history (Plutarch, Aemilius Paullus 32–33; Livy 39.5). In 88–87 bce, Epirus again experienced widespread destruction and pillaging, at the hands of Mithridates VI Eupator, who sacked Dodona and other cities (Cassius Dio fr. 101.2). The extent of Paullus’s destruction of southern Epirus and its impact on the long-term development of the region into the Roman Empire remain topics of scholarly inquiry and debate (below). Like Greece, Epirus fell under the jurisdiction of the proconsul of Macedonia in 146 bce. Some Epirote urban centers, including Phoinike and Dodona, continued to mint bronze coins under the political organization of the koinon of the Epirotes (Franke 1961, 218–237). This changed in 27 bce, when Augustus created the province of Achaia, with a capital at Corinth. According to Strabo (Geography 17.3.25), Achaia included “certain Epirote tribes.” The precise boundary separating Epirus between the two senatorial provinces of Achaia and Macedonia at this time is unknown. Southern Epirus, including Nikopolis, formed part of Achaia (Tacitus, Annals 2.53). Buthrotum, a Chaonian city, also belonged to Achaia. It is likely that the prominent coastal and southern tribes of Epirus were attached to Achaia, while those in the central north and interior, together with much of the region of Illyria, were allocated to Macedonia. This arrangement did not last long. Tiberius unified the provinces of Achaia and Macedonia and placed them under the administration of the imperial province of Moesia in 15 ce. According to Tacitus (Annals 1.76), this was done to alleviate growing discontent within these provinces related to taxation and abuses under proconsular governorship. In 44 ce, Claudius restored Achaia and Macedonia as senatorial provinces. It is unknown whether Nero’s famous proclamation of Greek freedom in 67 ce included Epirus (Kraay 1976, 238). There is a remote possibility that Nikopolis became the capital of the province of Epirus at that time. Some have suggested that Epirus became an independent province under Vespasian, when he reconstituted the province of Achaia (Kirsten 1987, 93). The more widely accepted view is that Epirus first became an independent province under Trajan, who is thought to have detached it from Achaia between 103 and 114 ce as a procuratorial imperial province, with Nikopolis as administrative capital (Karatzeni 2001, 164). The province of Epirus included the land of Akarnania. The second century ce geographer Klaudios Ptolemaios (3.13.1, 3.14.1) placed the boundary separating Achaia and Epirus along the Achelόos River. Epirus continued as a procuratorial province until after 284 ce, when Diocletian turned it into Epirus Vetus, which had the same territorial boundaries as the old province, but belonged to the diocese of Moesia under the jurisdiction of the praefectus praetorio per Italiam, Illyricum et Africam.

Strabo and the “Desolation” of Southern Epirus Strabo’s description of Epirus (Geography 7.7), written in the age of Augustus, has long been considered the most authoritative and comprehensive account of the region to survive from antiquity (Lepore 1962, 16–33; Hammond 1967, 443–480). Ironically, it is believed that Strabo never set foot in the region. He relied on the works of early Greek geographers and historians, whom he cites by name, such as Hekataios of Miletos, Theopompos, Ephoros of Kyme, and Polybios.

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The topographical details of Epirus, in particular, are written from a coastal perspective and are drawn mostly from periploi (coastal logs). Strabo added a few contemporary details to his account and noted that Epirus had undergone dramatic changes under Roman rule. He described the region as desolate in his own day, in contrast to an earlier time in which Epirus is said to have been prosperous and populous. He reported that inhabited areas in Epirus only survived in ruins and villages, and that “even the oracle of Dodona, like the rest, is effectively extinct” (Strabo, Geography 7.7.9). Since no comparable textual information survives for Epirus from the Roman imperial period, his account remained the bedrock of scholarly views of the region until it was challenged by archaeologists in the 1990s on the basis of archeological evidence and a critical reappraisal of ancient literary sources (Funke 1991; Alcock 1993, 24–32). Strabo and his contemporaries described Roman Greece similarly, as depopulated and in decline, terms connected to conceptions of Greece as a conquered land, fallen from an illustrious golden age. In the case of Epirus, however, Strabo’s account may not represent a literary trope altogether. Epirus did suffer immensely in 167 bce. Moreover, the region never held the same exalted status as Greece in the minds of the Romans, although, as noted above, aspects of its antiquity were revered. An examination of Strabo’s terminology has shown that key descriptive terms for Epirus have long been misunderstood (Isager 2001b). For example, eremos (ɛ’ρƞ˜μος), often taken at face value to mean “desolation,” denotes, instead, a reversion to a less “civilized” condition, as might happen, for example, when cities devolve into villages or when a region transitions away from urban-centered life. Greek notions of “civilization” are deeply imbedded in ancient perceptions of Epirus, obfuscating the region’s ethnicity, language, economy, and history. Archaeological research has shown that, although relatively depressed, southern Epirus was not a wasteland during the century after 167 bce (Alcock 1993, 24–32; Isager 2001b, 17–27; Gravani 2007, 101–122; Riginos 2007, 163–173). At Kassope, for example, the municipal Katagogion and Prytaneion were burned down in 167 bce, but there is no trace of destruction in the stratigraphy of excavated domestic buildings, which continued in use (Schwandner 2001, 112; Gravani 2001). The city experienced a severe downturn in population and economy, but nevertheless endured. Habitation after 167 bce has also been observed at other major cities in southern Epirus, including Ammotopos, Doliani (Fanoti), Dymokastro (Elina), Gardiki, and Kastritsa (Karatzeni 2001, 163). The Nikopolis project identified thirty-six Roman sites dating between the first century bce and third century ce within the territory bounded by the Acheron and Louros rivers in the hinterland of Nikopolis (Wiseman 2001, 56). The survey found that the countryside was not deserted, that several sites were occupied or revived, and that some were newly established under the Roman Empire.

Roads Constructed initially for military purposes under the Republic, Roman roads became the backbone of Roman provincial administration. Among the most important was the Via Egnatia, which traversed the northern Balkans from Dyrrachium in Illyria to Byzantium (Constantinople). Laid under the Macedonian governor Gnaeus Egnatius (ca. 140 bce), it ran south from Dyrrachium along the coast to Apollonia, where it split into two major roads that passed through Epirus. Both are depicted in the Tabula Peutingeriana map and represented in the Itinerarium Antonini (Stadtmüller 1954, 245–250; Weber 1976; Hammond 1967, 690–700). Dating from the fourth century ce but including material from as early as the mid-first century ce, the Tabula Peutingeriana shows that the coastal road ran from Apollonia down to Aulon (Vlora, near Oricum), Phoinike, Buthrotum, a site labeled ad Dianam, the port of Glykys Limen in Thesprotia, and arrived at Nikopolis. The other road branched off at Apollonia and followed the Aoös (Vjosa) River through the Drinos Valley and



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Epirus’s interior to Amantia, Hadrianopolis, the unknown site of Ilio (Dhespotikon? Konitsa?), and Dodona before reaching Nikopolis. This was the principal artery of the interior, connected to numerous minor roads and mountain passes. Surplus production in Epirus’s interior, such as live animals, meat, wool, skins, cheese, and other animal products, would have been transported to seaports or north along this route to the Via Egnatia, which was a vital supply conduit to the military fronts in the northern Balkans (Vanderspoel 2010, 266). The Roman road network made Epirus’s interior more accessible, facilitating the movement and interconnectivity of people and thereby the acculturation (or “Romanization”) of the province (Deniaux 2002; Shpuza 2016, 37).

Roman Colonies, Settlement Hierarchies, and Provincial Organization Roman colonization along the western Balkan coastline marked a major turning point in the urbanization and administrative framework of Roman Epirus. In the provinces of Macedonia and Achaia, Caesarian and Augustan colonies were established at Dyrrachium, Byllis, Buthrotum, Photiki, Dyme, Patras, and Corinth (Rizakis 1997). The earliest colonies, which included Buthrotum, Dyme, and Corinth, were founded under the agency of Julius Caesar in 44 bce or shortly after his death. The colonists were civilians, consisting of Roman citizens and large numbers of freedmen, many of whom were clients of powerful senators and equestrians in Rome. These freedmen are well attested in the epigraphic record of the Julian colonies. After the battle of Actium, Augustus refounded some colonies and established new ones at Dyrrachium, Byllis, Buthrotum, Photiki, and Patras. The Augustan colonies were settled with veterans, probably shortly after 30 or 14 bce when large numbers of soldiers were retired (Keppie 1983, 73–86). In the Res Gestae Divi Augusti (3.3, 16.1), Augustus claimed to have disbanded 300,000 soldiers and to have spent 260 million sesterces to distribute lands to veterans in the provinces, among which he includes Achaia and Macedonia. Together with imperial foundations like Nikopolis, Roman colonies held the highest status in their respective provinces, serving as regional administrative centers. From the perspective of the colonized city, however, colonization was deeply unpopular and in some instances resisted by the municipal elite, who recognized that colonists took control of cities and their territories. Cicero (Letters to Atticus 15.29, 16.1–3), for example, vividly recounted hearing rumors in Rome that the townspeople of Buthrotum had violently driven away the colonists. With few exceptions, the colonies established by Caesar and Augustus in the Mediterranean were seaports. Under the empire, coastal cities performed better than interior ones because their maritime disposition facilitated tax collection, trade, communications, and their integration into the empire. Complex changes in the outlook of the local elite and civic benefaction arose under an imperial system that favored coastal sites and seaports in particular (Alcock 1993, 2002; Rizakis 1997; Revell 2009; Spawforth 2012). Rome’s primary interests in Epirus were tribute, military levies, and civic order. The role of the Roman governor and the interests of Roman public contractors and elite businessmen also gave coastal cities a decisive advantage for economic growth and political prosperity. Serving as the linchpins of the political and economic systems of the empire, seaports were intimately connected to imperial patronage, tribute collection, trade, and the imperial cult. The latter bolstered the image of the emperor and the imperial family within its centers of worship and offered local elites a path to imperial administration. Rome also colonized one inland Illyrian city, Byllis, at the head of the Drinos Valley near the northern Epirote border. The site could only have been chosen because of the economic importance of the inland route through Epirus (Deniaux 2014). Augustus

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financed construction of a fortification wall around the city, as a well-preserved inscription on one of its gates stated (Anamali, Ceka, and Deniaux 2009, no. 184; LIA, no. 192). Epitaphs at the site include names of veterans and freedmen, including Marcus Marius Gemellus, who held the priesthood of Augustalis in the second century ce. Under the patronage of Augustus, colonia Byllidensium rapidly overshadowed its neighboring city Amantia, which had historically controlled the northern end of the Drinos Valley and had built the largest stadium in the region of Illyria and Epirus in the second century bce (Figure 16.2). Amantia’s early prominence contrasts sharply with its abject condition under the Roman Empire: excavations have not brought to light any buildings or infrastructural developments dating to the Roman period, despite finds of Roman imperial coins and an imperial inscription recording the donation of a granary (Anamali 1972; Anamali, Ceka, and Deniaux 2009, no. 218; LIA, no. 231). There appears to have been some small community living amidst the ruins of this once great city in Roman times. The same conditions prevailed at Amantia’s port city Oricum, which had built a small theater or odeum between the second and first centuries bce: the city shows no traces of Roman buildings, despite finds of Roman period coins and epitaphs at the site (Budina 1976; Bereti et al. 2013). In the age of Pyrrhus, Antigonea had been the largest city in the Drinos Valley. Archaeological excavations show that the city was sacked and set ablaze in the mid-­second century bce (Zachos et al. 2006). This was doubtless due to the Macedonian Wars, though as a Chaonian city allied to Rome, Antigonea was unlikely to have been sacked by Paullus in 167 bce. It was not resettled, but a small community at the site of Sofratika arose under Rome to become the new dominant urban center in the Drinos Valley: major public buildings were erected in the first century ce (Perna and Çondi 2012), followed by a large theater in the time of Trajan or

Figure 16.2  Stadium of Amantia, 2nd century Project at Butrint.

bce.

By D. Hernandez, Roman Forum Excavations



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Hadrian. The latter refounded the city as Hadrianopolis, and during the second and third centuries ce it was by far the largest and most important city in the Epirote interior, a collection center and market for inland goods to be transported to seaports or northward to the Via Egnatia. Photiki has been associated with the site ad Dianam in the Tabula Peutingeriana, on the basis of an inscription to Diana and a small statue of the goddess found at Liboni, near Paramythia, where the city is believed to have been located (Hammond 1967, 693; Rizakis 1997, 18; Bowden 2011, 104). This would place the city along the coastal route of Epirus, in the vicinity of the purported villa of Lucius Cossinius at Agios Donatos (see below). What little is known about Roman Photiki comes from inscriptions, predominantly Latin epitaphs. It is unknown when the Roman colony was founded, though scholars often conjecture that it occurred under Caesar or Augustus (Dakaris 1972, 201–202; Soustal and Koder 1981, 236–237). Many of the mighty cities that had prospered in Hellenistic times as tribal capitals, such as Amantia, Phoinike, Gitana, Elea, and Kassope, together with many other smaller satellite settlements and fortresses, diminished rapidly in importance and prestige and received little investment under the Roman Empire. When they were founded, these cities had been positioned in the landscape to defend the territorial boundaries of the Epirote tribal groups, and had been among the largest cities in Epirus, many with theaters and impressive public buildings. Under the new political and economic framework of the Roman Empire, some – like Amantia, Gitana, and Kassope – became obsolete. Strongly fortified hilltop settlements in particular were less able to integrate into the systems of provincial administration and imperial trade. The Nikopolis Project, for example, did not recover evidence for Roman-era habitation in highland areas (Stein 2001, 72). Mountainous areas and hilltops were abandoned (Karatzeni 2001, 170). Settlements were concentrated in coastal and lowland territory. By the Augustan period, the pastoral-centered tribal system of pre-Roman Epirus had become extinct in all but name (Hammond 1967, 460). Phoinike was one of the few old urban centers to survive into the Roman era, although its regional status in Chaonia was greatly diminished, having been replaced by Buthrotum on the coast and Hadrianopolis in the interior (De Maria 2001). Phoinike’s position on the coastal road integrated it into the administrative structure of the province, and though inland, it evidently benefited from access to the flourishing port of Onchesmos. Archaeological investigations have focused on the “House of the Two Peristyles” and a residential quarter situated on terraces at the northwestern side of the hilltop. Three large cisterns were constructed in imperial times to supply water to the community. Like Phoinike but in southern Epirus, Ambracia was a major city where limited occupation continued into Roman times, though most of the old walled cities in its region were significantly reduced or abandoned (Karatzeni 1999; 2001, 171). The antiquity and exalted memory of prominent Greek cities could bring them imperial favor without colonial status. Apollonia was renowned as a center of Hellenic culture. Augustus was educated there, and it was where he learned of Caesar’s death and his adoption (Velleius Paterculus 2.59; Suetonius, Augustus 8.2; Cassius Dio 45.3.1). It was on account of this and perhaps the city’s association with Augustus’s patron deity Apollo that Apollonia was deliberately not colonized; Augustus must have known the local elite who stood to lose from colonization. After Actium, he granted the city tax immunity, which they must have viewed as an outstanding act of benefaction. The status of Dodona under Rome remains somewhat unclear. Strabo (Geography 7.7.9) claimed that the sanctuary was virtually extinct in his own day. Archaeological remains, on the other hand, show that a high parapet was erected around the theater’s orchestra and scaenae frons to convert it into a gladiatorial arena; Dakaris (2010, 33) dated the remodeling to the Augustan period. A contemporary statue base for Livia, dedicated by an Epirote

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community, was probably erected in the context of the imperial cult (SEG 1968 23.472). Inscriptions demonstrate that Dodona continued to serve as a center of religious observance in the Augustan period (Piccinini 2013), and games were held in honor of Zeus Naios and Dione at Dodona from the second century bce to the third century ce. Though an inscribed altar at Nikopolis links the worship of Hadrian to Zeus Olympios Dodonaios (SEG 35.674), Dodona’s regional significance diminished with the rise of Nikopolis (see below). Under the Roman Empire, the two foremost cities of Epirus were Buthrotum and Nikopolis. They became preeminent regional centers under Augustus, who saw to their development and prosperity through imperial benefactions. They were the only cities in Epirus attached to the emperor in name.

Nikopolis Nikopolis, Augustus’s “Victory City,” was dedicated to Apollo Aktios, the emperor’s divine guardian (Suetonius, Augustus 18.2; Murray and Petsas 1989, 5). The creation of a new city on this scale, by fiat, was an act associated with kings like Alexander the Great, who founded Nikopolis in Syria after the battle of Issos (Jones 1987, 106). The cardo maximus was established in line with the position of Octavian’s camp on the eve  of the battle of Actium. Upon that hilltop, Augustus commemorated his victory with a Tropaeum (victory monument). The site overlooked the sacred precinct outside the city proper, where a theater, stadium, and gymnasium were constructed to celebrate the Actian Games every four years. Augustus made the games Panhellenic and joined them into the premier circuit of Greek games (Gurval 2008, 74–85). The city’s earliest coinage commemorates their inception sometime around 30–27 bce (Chrysostomou and Kefallonitou 2005, 16–17). The coins featured the portrait of Augustus with the legend ΚΤΙΣΤΟΥ ΣΕΒΑΣΤΟΥ (“of the founder Augustus”) on the obverse and a caduceus and lightning bolt with the legend ΝΙΚΟΠΟΛΙΣ ΙΕΡΑ (“sacred Nikopolis”) on the reverse. Built on a large terrace supported by a wall in opus reticulatum, the Tropaeum had the form of a rostrum, featuring thirty-six massive bronze naval rams captured from Antony’s fleet arrayed along the front of its platform, ascending from smallest to largest (Murray and Petsas 1989, 76–88; Zachos 2001, 2003; Malacrino 2007). An inscription began above the largest ram and ran for ca. 48 m, reconstructed from twenty-six fragments as follows: Imperator Caesar, son of the divine Julius, following the victory in the war which he waged on behalf of the Republic in this region when he was Consul for the fifth time and Imperator for the seventh time, after peace had been secured on land and sea, consecrated to Neptune and Mars the camp from which he set forth to attack the enemy, which is now ornamented with naval spoils

The absence of the name “Augustus” indicates that the monument was built around 30–27 bce, probably in 29 (Murray and Petsas 1989, 86, 128; Zachos 2003, 76). The phrase pace parta terra marique (“after peace had been secured on land and sea”) was used that year in a decree of the Senate to close the temple of Janus in Rome as a symbol of peace. The terrace wall is the earliest known use of opus reticulatum outside Italy (Spawforth 2012, 209–210); it was rarely used in the provinces, and Italian stonemasons appear to have built it here (Malacrino 2004, 119; 2007, 372–378). A large altar occupied the central area of the platform, surrounded by a three-sided portico where spoils of war were displayed (Zachos 2003, 82). The altar itself featured two extended friezes in relief. The top panel depicted Augustus’s Actian triumphal procession, celebrated in Rome in 29 bce (Cassius Dio 51.21.9): a surviving fragment may show Augustus mounted



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on a quadriga. The lower panel showed heaps of enemy weapons and armor as war spoils. Proclaiming the pietas of Augustus, this monumental altar is a forerunner of the Ara Pacis Augustae (the Altar of Augustan Peace in Rome). The founding of Nikopolis transformed southern Epirus. According to Strabo (Geography 7.7.6), Augustus effected a synoikismos (resettlement to an urban center) to populate the new city, purportedly to reverse urban decline and depression in southern Epirus. People were forced to relocate from a wide area across southern Epirus, Akarnania, and Aetolia down to the Corinthian Gulf (Kirsten 1987; Cabanes 1997, 118–120; Alcock 2002, 45–46). Leukas, formerly the capital of the koinon of the Akarnanians, became a dependency of Nikopolis (Pliakou 2001). This involved more than the transmigration of p ­ eople. From Kassope, for example, statues of gods, heroes, and illustrious citizens, and even the temple of Aphrodite, were transferred to Nikopolis (Schwandner 2001, 112). Likewise, statues and cults from Aetolia were moved to Nikopolis (Alcock 2002, 44). The places from which people were drawn were not completely abandoned, however. Two Roman imperial inscriptions from Nikopolis refer to the demos and polis of Ambracia (Karatzeni 1999; 2001, 168). Several coastal sites, such as Ambracia and Leukas in Akarnania, remained occupied, becoming dependencies (perioikides) of Nikopolis (Karatzeni 2001, 168; Pliakou 2001). No Roman citizens or veterans were among the settlers represented on the hundreds of inscriptions recovered at the site (Isager 2001a, 7). Unlike Roman colonies, the city’s coinage had legends in Greek, not Latin, and very few inscriptions (ca. 5%) from the city are in Latin (Lange 2009, 100–102). The inhabitants of Nikopolis, the foremost city of Epirus, were Epirotes and Greeks, and the city was technically a Greek polis and Rome’s free ally (civitas libera). Nikopolis was constructed systematically on an orthogonal grid. The two major axes of its layout, the cardo maximus and decumanus maximus, followed the Roman model for laying out an army camp (Polybius 6.28). Its regular insulae (blocks) are estimated at ca. 56 × 165 m, arranged in vici (neighborhoods), and the city covered an area of ca. 150 ha of previously undeveloped land (Zachos 2007, 2015; Bowden 2007, 2011). Because its layout was not constrained by preexisting buildings, Nikopolis represents some ideal of Roman urbanism. Despite Augustus’s message of peace on land and sea, the city was enclosed within a substantial fortification with a perimeter of ca. 5 km. Within Nikopolis was a forum, major public monuments, and drainage systems with sewers. Nikopolis minted coins under Augustus and later under Trajan. Although scholars dispute whether a short-lived period of minting occurred under Nero (Calomino 2011, 572–574), otherwise no coins were issued in the interval. After Hadrian’s visit to Nikopolis in 128 ce (CIG 1822), the city was further embellished with an odeum, temples, baths, and major water works.

Buthrotum After Paullus’s destruction of Molossia in 163 bce, Rome detached Buthrotum from its dependency to Phoinike, and the city became autonomous and capital of the koinon of the Prasaiboi. The 219 Greek inscriptions from Butrint, almost all manumission decrees, show a spike in manumissions in the second half of the second century bce (Cabanes and Drini 2007). As allies of Rome, citizens of Buthrotum likely acquired Molossian slaves by purchase or as a share of plunder (Hernandez and Çondi 2008, 281–282). The city flourished during this period, which saw the construction of the Agora and the remodeling of the Theater and Sanctuary of Asklepios (Figure 16.3). In the first century bce, a Roman named Cassianus (Cassius), serving as head priest of the city’s mystery cult of Pan, dedicated two statues in the urban sanctuary of the god (Hernandez et al. 2020, 283). Owing to its prosperity and proximity to Italy, Buthrotum attracted Titus Pomponius Atticus, Cicero’s confidant and one of the wealthiest Romans of his day: he owned a lucrative estate

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Figure 16.3  Plan of the forum and ancient urban center of Butrint. By D. Hernandez, Roman Forum

Excavations Project at Butrint.

there from 68 bce, and became the leading man in Epirus due to his immense wealth and status (Deniaux 1987). Vergil (Aeneid 3.289–505), Ovid (Metamorphoses 13.721), and Dionysius of Halicarnassus (Roman Antiquities 1.51.1) referred to the sacred origins of Buthrotum, said to have been founded by Helenus, the Trojan prince and seer who escaped the sack of Troy: Vergil described the city as “little Troy” (parva Troia) and Ovid as a “replica of Troy” (simulata Troia). Like Troy, Buthrotum’s patron deity was Athena, whose temple on the Acropolis was built in the late sixth century bce (Hernandez 2017a). On account of its purported Trojan ancestry and links to Aeneas, Buthrotum became an object of Augustus’s patronage. Founded as Colonia Iulia Buthrotum months after Caesar’s death in 44 bce and formally refounded as Colonia Augusta Buthrotum by Augustus, the city’s transformation was commensurate with the rebuildings of Carthage and Corinth, if on a smaller scale. A new Forum with surrounding buildings and new sacred buildings were constructed, and the Sanctuary of Asklepios and other sacred spaces were aggrandized and embellished. This was accomplished by razing the old Agora, demolishing South Stoa I, North Stoa, and the Temple of Zeus Soter. The new Forum featured imperial cult buildings (Tripartite Building, Two-Story Building), a curia, a basilica, South Stoa II running the length of the forum’s southern side, and a bath complex. An inscription dating to 12–13 ce, found and probably displayed at or near the basilica at the eastern end of the Forum, names Germanicus Caesar as honorary quinquennial duovir of Buthrotum. The colony redefined sacred space within the city. The Roman Forum Excavations Project at Butrint discovered manumission inscriptions from the Temple of Zeus Soter used as spolia in the foundations of South Stoa II (Hernandez and Çondi 2018). Several thousand tons of large limestone slabs were imported to pave the Forum and the West Courtyard. The fine pavement imbued the urban center with a white radiance that had never before existed in any city in Epirus. It set the city apart from all others in the region but Nikopolis. Buthrotum had a privileged status as the only city in Epirus to bear the name of Augustus. The city also developed a strong connection with Augustus’ colleague Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa through his marriage to Atticus’s daughter, Pomponia. A head of a statue of Agrippa



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was found by Albanian archaeologists near the area that has now been identified as the eastern end of the Roman Forum. The Italian excavations of the theater recovered portraits of Augustus, Agrippa, and Livia among the twenty-two substantial fragments of sculpture found (Ugolini 1937, 2003b; Bergemann 1998). A head of Augustus of Actian type was found outside the theater in the West Courtyard, near the Shrine/Treasury of Asklepios (see below). Ugolini concluded that all the sculptural pieces, whether found inside or immediately outside the theater, belonged to the theater’s sculptural ensemble, and matched various heads with bodies, assigning them to the six niches of the scaenae frons; unfortunately, some heads do not match bodies, not all the statues fit in the niches, none of the sculpture was found in situ, and several pieces show post-use reworking. Even the original location of the imperial sculptural group is in question. The Roman building occupying the western end of the West Courtyard was devoted to the imperial cult (Hernandez 2017b). It can be dated precisely to the Augustan period on the basis of its opus reticulatum walls: judging from the rarity of this masonry type in Epirus, they should be contemporary with earliest structures at Nikopolis. Finds included a heroic nude statue of a Roman, possibly the deified Antinous; with the head of Actian Augustus already mentioned as found in the West Courtyard, the building may have originally housed statues of Augustus and perhaps Livia. A monumental pavement inscription in front of the building was originally in gilded bronze letters (litterae auratae), a novelty for the city, part of the spread of “monumental writing” under Augustus. It named two freedmen, Quintus Caecilius Eumanius from the family of Titus Pomponius Atticus, and Gnaeus Domitius Eros from the family of Gnaeus Domitius Ahenobarbus (great-grandfather of the emperor Nero). These two freedmen of the most prominent families of colonial-period Buthrotum donated the pavement and possibly the building as their honorary payment to gain admission into the Augustales, members of the civic collegial association linked to the imperial cult. Dating 27–7 bce, it represents one of the earliest references to the institution of Augustales from the Roman Empire. The colony was granted the privilege to mint coins from 44 bce until the death of Augustus (RPC). The earliest (44–27 bce) had two issues, one with the head of Jupiter on the obverse and a sacrificial bull on the reverse, the other with a veiled head of a clean-shaven Roman (perhaps the colony’s founder and new divus, Julius Caesar) on obverse and the club and staff of Asklepios on reverse. The Augustan period (27 bce–14 ce) saw the production of at least fourteen types. The earliest two featured Augustus’ head on the obverse, while on the reverse, one shows the genius coloniae and the other the aqueduct/bridge constructed by imperial benefaction. The other Augustan coin types included the portrait of Augustus, the head of Jupiter, Neptune’s dolphins and tridents as allusions to the battle of Actium, Augustan allegorical divinities (Concordia, Salus) and symbols (cornucopia, laurel wreath, tripod, lituus), images of the local god (Asklepios), local symbols (sacred bull of Buthrotum, curule seat), and local buildings (temple, aqueduct/bridge). Thus, the iconography of the colonial coinage is predominantly sacred, permeated with the name, images, and benefactions of Augustus. Over the course of the first century ce, Buthrotum developed a substantial suburb on the Vrina Plain (Figure 16.3); its earliest identifiable phase dates to the mid-first century (Greenslade 2019). Geomagnetic prospection from 2001 on has clarified the layout of this planned extramural settlement of 19 ha (Bescoby 2007, 112–115). In the early second century, a costly, large-scale rebuilding of Buthrotum’s urban center took place: the entire northern side of the Forum was razed and rebuilt on a monumental scale, and the theater was rebuilt and embellished with a new scaenae frons. This redevelopment may have been a gift of Hadrian, perhaps in the course of his travels to Hadrianopolis and Nikopolis. The second century ce is marked by civic aggrandizement and social change at Buthrotum: for example, an elite woman, Junia Rufina, perhaps a descendant of original colonists, adorned a sacred spring in marble (Figure 16.4). Along the face of its marble parapet, whose top shows deep grooves made by ropes drawing water over a long period, was

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Figure 16.4  Illustration of the Junia Rufina spring, depicting the inscribed parapet wall (bottom) and its plan view (top) which shows rope marks. Drawing by Anna Zsófia Biller, Roman Forum Excavations Project at Butrint.

inscribed: ΙΟΥΝΙΑ ΡΟΥΦΕΙΝΑ ΝΥΜΦΩΝ ΦΙΛΗ (“Junia Rufina, friend of nymphs”). Her Roman name contrasts with the Greek inscription, demonstrating the pervasiveness of Greek language in a Roman colony in Greece by the second century ce, as well as the increasing status of elite women at Buthrotum, comparable to that of women in Italy at the time. The last major building enterprises in the Forum occurred in the mid-third century ce, but the rebuilding of the Tripartite Building was preceded by large-scale spoliation of the Forum, with finds of fragmentary and discarded marble statuary and inscriptions. One large dump, dating ca. 230–250 ce, included a life-size marble statue of Augustan date, suggesting a profound social and economic break from the city’s colonial past.

Aqueducts It has been said that the first Roman aqueducts in Greece were constructed under Hadrian at Athens, Corinth, Argos, Coronea, and possibly Sparta in Achaia, as well as at Dyrrachium and possibly Dion in Macedonia (Longfellow 2011, 112, 134). Andrew Wilson (2013, 77, 95), however, favored an Augustan date for Buthrotum’s aqueduct, and archaeological evidence recovered in 2012 by the Roman Forum Excavations Project at Butrint confirms that the earliest aqueduct in Achaia was built under the patronage of Augustus. A terracotta pipe found in situ near the southeast corner of the Forum at Buthrotum would have connected to the aqueduct’s piping network (Figure 16.3 “unit 19”; Figure 16.5). Reinforced by a thick layer of mortar to sustain high water pressure, the pipe originally ran underground through an opening made in the foundations of South Stoa II (Hernandez and Çondi 2018). South Stoa II and the aqueduct were built at the same time as the Roman Forum, in the last quarter of the first century bce (Hernandez 2017b, 55–57). Following the demolition of South Stoa II in the early second century ce, perhaps during the Hadrianic rebuilding of the urban center, this run of terracotta piping was replaced by a stronger lead pipe. Augustus built the aqueduct of Buthrotum not for utilitarian purposes but as a symbol of his own greatness. The structure was built of brick with an arcade running above ground for four km from the hill of Xarra across the Vrina Plain to Buthrotum, making it visible to ships



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Figure 16.5  Excavation of unit 19 in 2012, showing SE corner of the forum with columns in situ and the terracotta pipe (right) adjacent to the lead pipe (left), which runs above the remains of South Stoa II. By D. Hernandez, Roman Forum Excavations Project at Butrint.

sailing along the coast. This is in contrast to typical Roman aqueducts, which run through subterranean conduits for most of their length to save expense, as in the case of the Hadrianic aqueducts at Athens, Corinth, and elsewhere. Geomagnetic prospection of Buthrotum’s suburb on the Vrina Plain have revealed that its centuriation scheme and actus alignment were determined by the course of the aqueduct (Bescoby 2007, 112–113; Crowson and Gilkes 2007, 121–128). Excavations of an aqueduct pier on the Vrina Plain found nothing after the late first century bce in its construction fills (Wilson 2013, 95). The endless supply of pressurized water fed the new Forum baths and city fountains, serving to distinguish Buthrotum further from all other cities in Greece. Along with the aqueduct, a bridge was built across the Vivari Channel. Consisting of 45 piers and spanning a length of ca. 400 m, the bridge was a major technological feat, unprecedented in the region (Leppard 2013). Buthrotum commemorated the benefaction on a coin issue showing Augustus on the obverse and the aqueduct/bridge on the reverse. The city’s other eminent patron was Augustus’ closest supporter, Agrippa, who oversaw the construction of the Aqua Julia, Aqua Virgo, and many other water projects in Rome (see Dyson, “City of Rome,” chapter 9 of this volume); the aqueduct at Buthrotum may well have been built by him. It is also probable that the aqueducts of Nikopolis and Patras (Augustus’ other colony in Greece) were built at this time as well, to elevate the status of Augustus’s own colonies and foundations. There has been considerable controversy, however, surrounding the construction date of Nikopolis’s aqueduct (Doukellis, Dufaure, and Fouache 1995, 232–233; Malacrino 2004, 114–121; Andreou 2007, 235–237; Zachos 2007, 273–295; 2013, 261–269; 2018). It was first thought to have been built together with the city in the Augustan period, but on the basis of brick typology was redated to the reign of Hadrian (Walker 1979, 144–146). The archaeological remains display two distinct building phases,

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the first of which Zachos (2015, 105; 2018) dated to the first half of the first century ce, and the second to the Hadrianic period; he posited that its original construction was undertaken but not completed by Nero, and that the aqueduct’s brick construction (opus testaceum) precluded an Augustan date because brick was not present in any known Augustan monuments in Nikopolis. Known Augustan monuments at Nikopolis, however, are few (Tropaeum, stadium, theater), and most remains at the site can only be dated to within a century; further, Zachos himself (2018, 45) made an exception of Nikopolis’s Augustan brick-built fortification wall, noting only that the bricks of the fortification wall are thicker than those of the aqueduct. The construction of the aqueduct would have been a special commission, executed with imperial patronage under the purview of skilled military engineers (Coulton 1987, 72–84). Brick was utilized extensively in Italy and by the army at the time, and is hardly a sufficient basis to exclude a date in the Augustan period. The Augustan imperial cult building at Buthrotum, for example, included brickwork as leveling courses and quoins in its opus reticulatum masonry (Hernandez 2017b, figs. 19, 20).

Centuriation and the Countryside By the mid-first century bce, Roman businessmen and elite citizens had established a firm presence in Epirus, and with his villa at Buthrotum, Atticus was among them. Nepos (Atticus 14.3) wrote that “all of Atticus’s income came from his properties in Epirus and in the city of Rome.” The epigraphic record from pre-colonial Buthrotum includes Roman names like Aulus, Cassius, Lucius, Marcus, Titus, and Vergilia, transliterated into Greek. In the writings of Cicero (Letters to Atticus 1.13.1) and Varro (On Agriculture 2.1.2, 2.2.1, 2.5.1, 2.5.10), Epirotici and Synepirotae are collective names given to wealthy Romans who controlled large-scale pastoral and cattle ranches (latifundia) in Epirus. In addition to Atticus, Cicero (Letters to Friends 13.23) and Varro (On Agriculture 2.10.11) wrote of Lucius Cossinius, a Roman equestrian with major landholdings in Epirus. A luxurious villa, excavated at Agios Donatos in Thesprotia, is believed to have belonged to him or another wealthy Italian (Forsén and Tikkala 2011, 18). Built above the remains of a Hellenistic fortress, the villa exemplifies the profound extent of Italian landholdings in Epirus in the first century bce. Alcock (1993, 75) considered Roman Epirus an outlier in the Mediterranean, believing that these substantial landholdings of Italians resulted from Paullus’s destruction of southern Epirus in 167 bce. A recent study has challenged this view, showing that Epirus is likely representative of the rise of Italian landownership throughout the provinces in the late Republic (Eberle and Le Quéré 2017). Given the intimate relationship between landholding and political power at the municipal level, Italians operating in Epirus became leading members of the elite class in the major cities of the region, as is evident in the case of Buthrotum. A principal interest of these Italian stock breeders in Epirus was the production of quality goods (wool, racehorses, cattle) for export to Italy. Roman colonization brought the imposition of new land ownership and agrarian reconfigurations in Epirus, particularly in the agricultural lands surrounding urban ­centers. Cicero (Letters to Atticus 16.16A) reported that the colonization of Buthrotum involved the confiscation of land. Archaeological research on the Vrina Plain has identified two phases of centuriation using the Roman system of measurement by actus and its double, the iugerum (Bescoby 2007, 113; 2013): one was based on a 12 × 16 actus grid, the same employed in founding the colony of Corinth in 44 bce; the other was on a 20 × 20 actus grid, like that of the Augustan colonies and foundations at Nikopolis, Patras, and Arta. The two cadastral divisions at Buthrotum can thereby be linked to the establishment of the Caesarian and Augustan colonies.



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The agricultural land of Phoinike may have witnessed an agrarian division based on a 20 actus grid, perhaps in the Augustan period (Giorgi 2004, 180–182, 193). Three d ­ istinct centuriation schemes have been noted in the Drinos Valley, associated with the foundation and later development of Hadrianopolis (Giorgi and Bogdani 2012, 125–126). As in Achaia, the founding of Roman colonies and cities in Epirus was accompanied by redistribution of lands and the formation of a new land-owning aristocracy, bringing changes in municipal political leadership. This is evident in the epigraphic record of Buthrotum: virtually no prominent families under the Republic (except for Atticus’s, the Pomponii/Caecilii, linked by marriage to the imperial family) continued to hold offices into the imperial period. Roman centuriation upended the traditional ­dominant elite in Epirus, with the reallocation of land serving as principal tool of Roman imperialism in the governance and administration of the province (Alcock 1993, 2002; Spawforth 2012). Like Nikopolis’s, the founding of the Roman colony of Patras in the Peloponnese also involved the immigration of inhabitants from surrounding districts. This action led to the diminution of Caesar’s colony at Dyme. Corinth’s status as colony, metropolis, and provincial capital drew inhabitants and resources from its surrounding regions as well. Corinth, Patras, and Nikopolis served as urban nodes for the area from the Corinthian Gulf up to the Gulf of Ambracia. The colonies of Buthrotum and Dyrrachium continued this pattern along the Ionian and Adriatic coast. The rise of these cities came at the expense of others. South of Buthrotum, the fortified hilltop settlement of Çuka e Aitoit (possible Kestrina) displays no evidence of Roman occupation and appears to have been abandoned in the Augustan period (Hernandez and Hodges 2020b). Unlike inland hilltop sites, Çuka e Aitoit was near the coast and had close access to Corcyra and Buthrotum, but its settlement did not relocate to the foot of the hill or someplace closer to the sea. After the redistribution of its dependent territory among the Roman colonists at Buthrotum, the community must have lost the basis of its livelihood. The changes in land ownership and ruling elite in cities suggest that a pronounced social and economic disruption occurred across Epirus in the second half of the first century bce. The countryside of Epirus was relatively densely occupied compared to Greece during the late Republic and Roman imperial period (first century bce to third century ce). As noted above, the Nikopolis project identified thirty-six Roman sites dating within this period in the territory of Nikopolis (Wiseman 2001, 56). The Mursi Survey discovered a very high proportion of Roman sites (59) in the territory of Buthrotum from the first to third centuries ce, compared to nine of other periods (Hodges et al. 2016; Hernandez 2020). The greatest intensive agricultural exploitation of Butrint’s countryside occurred under the Roman Empire (Hernandez and Hodges 2020b, 303–305). It is tempting to associate this rural activity with the development of Roman stockbreeding and ranching in Epirus. On the other hand, Roman villas, especially villae maritimae along the coast, offered Romans luxury estates. The villa at Diaporit near Buthrotum, furnished with private baths, fountains, and opulent rooms, occupied several expansive terraces overlooking Lake Butrint (Bowden and Përzhita 2004; Bowden 2009, 2020). It was in use from the first century bce until the third century ce, and flourished remarkably around 40–80 ce. At Strongyli near the mouth of the Louros River, in the hinterland of Ambracia, a villa rustica, occupied from the first to third centuries ce, featured residential quarters, a bathhouse, storerooms, and an oil-pressing room (Douzougli 1998; Karatzeni 2001, 168). Another large villa at Loutsa (Frangoklisia) was located off the coastal road. The case of Lucius Cossinius and the abovementioned villa at Agios Donatos suggest that the economy of animal husbandry was also central to the development of Roman villas in Epirus.

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Architecture Hellenistic Epirus had seen a period of prosperity lasting well into the second century bce, with widespread construction of public buildings and luxurious estates. But between the end of the second century bce and the second half of the first century bce, there was a lacuna in building, attributable to a century of warfare and the changes associated with Roman provincial governance. The first sign of architectural revival occurred soon after the inception of Roman colonization in 44 bce, when the Roman-Doric capital was introduced at Buthrotum (Podini 2014, cat. 15–19). Marble is not found in Epirus, but after 44 bce it was imported into the region as fine architectural stone. This resulted in a greater concentration of marble architecture at Epirote seaports, especially Buthrotum and Nikopolis. Under the Roman Empire, various colored marbles and red granite from the imperial mons Claudianus quarry in Egypt were imported, but their remains are found almost exclusively at seaports. At inland sites, marble finds come from statuary and only rarely from architecture. The appearance of Roman imperial architecture was tied to both local elite euergetism and imperial gifts. During the second and early third centuries ce, high quality architectural remains in Epirus, in both public and private buildings and particularly at Buthrotum, Hadrianopolis, and Nikopolis, represent widespread prosperity by virtue of the Pax Romana and sound provincial administration. This is a period generally marked by urban aggrandizement and monumentalization, stimulated by imperial benefaction.

Summary To this day, relatively few studies are devoted to Roman Epirus. This is due in part to the partition of the region between the countries of Albania and Greece and to the regimes and nationalist ideologies that have underpinned archaeological research in Epirus. The upsurge of archaeological research in the region, particularly in Albania, over the past two decades has produced a vast body of raw evidence that has yet to be fully synthesized, examined, and contextualized in the broader framework of Roman provincial studies. Ancient Epirus is inextricably tied to its central position between Greece and Italy. Under the Republic, Roman businessmen and elite citizens, such as Titus Pomponius Atticus and Lucius Cossinius, owned substantial estates and established lucrative villas in Epirus for the specialized breeding of animals. Many became leading citizens in the major coastal cities of the region. Provincial organization was predicated on urban nodes along the coast. Under Augustus, these principal cities were the Roman colonies of Corinth, Patras, Buthrotum, and Dyrrachium, the victory city of Nikopolis, and the Greek city of Apollonia. The creation of Nikopolis was a colossal enterprise involving the transfer of peoples and sacred structures over a considerable distance stretching from southern Epirus to Aetolia. Its monuments exhibited the emperor’s divine connection to Apollo, his promises of prosperity and peace on land and sea, and his vision of Roman rule. With few exceptions, the survival of towns, particularly in the interior, depended on their connectivity to the major coastal urban centers and to the primary inland roads linked to imperial trade and taxation. In northern Epirus, Hadrianopolis dominated the interior, controlling the Drinos Valley and the inland road linked to the Via Egnatia. In the age of Caesar and Augustus, Roman colonization profoundly transformed the economic and social foundations of Epirus. Roman centuriation, identified in the productive arable territories of Corinth, Patras, Arta, Nikopolis, Buthrotum, Phoinike, and Hadrianopolis, involved land redistribution and thereby the creation of a new elite class in Epirus.



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Many of the colonists were Italian freedmen and, in Augustan foundations, military veterans. The inscriptions from Buthrotum show that Roman freedman connected to powerful Italian families were leading citizens integral to the administration of the colony. Wealthy freedmen attained for the first time a recognizable status through the new associations of the Augustales, named after the emperor himself. It is evident that Roman colonies played an instrumental role in the origins and development of the imperial cult, and one of the earliest documents of Augustales in the empire comes from the colony of Buthrotum. Colonia Augusta Buthrotum was the one city in Epirus that bore the name of the emperor. With its strong Trojan heritage, it was Augustus’ “little Troy” in Greece. The city was thoroughly rebuilt under Augustus, with every building in the urban center demolished except for the theater complex, which was remodeled. A new Roman Forum, with all its surrounding buildings and new sacred spaces, was constructed. Hundreds of imported limestone slabs paved the center, cladding it in a brilliant white never before seen in Epirus. Large building and pavement inscriptions were also an Augustan novelty, part of the spread of “monumental writing.” The greatest imperial benefaction at Buthrotum was the aqueduct. It shows that the first aqueducts in Roman Greece were not those of Hadrian in the ancient centers of Athens or Corinth; they were constructed under Augustus, perhaps under the direction of Agrippa, to serve as potent symbols of prosperity in his new foundations of Buthrotum, Nikopolis, and Patras. The gleaming white pavements, monumental inscriptions, bridges, aqueducts, and Tropaeum were built together as marvels of Augustan urbanism in Epirus.

Biographical Note David R. Hernandez is associate professor of Classical Archaeology at the University of Notre Dame. He is principal investigator of the Roman Forum Excavations (RFE) Project at Butrint (Albania). His research focuses on urbanism in Epirus and examines topics related to ancient Greek and Roman colonization, Roman imperialism, the imperial cult, urban stratigraphy and topography, and the historical archaeology of the late medieval and early modern periods.

Abbreviations CIG = Corpus Inscriptionum Graecarum. 1828–. Edited by August Böckh et al. Berlin: Berlin-Brandenburgische Akademie der Wissenschaften. FGrH = Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker 1923–. Edited by Felix Jacoby et  al. Updated online as Brill’s New Jacoby, https://referenceworks-brillonline-com.uc.idm.oclc. org/browse/brill-s-new-jacoby IG = Inscriptiones Graecae. 1873–. Edited by Deutsche Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin, Preussische Akademie der Wissenschaften. Berlin: G. Reimer. LIA = Die Lateinischen Inschriften aus Albanien. 2012. Edited by Ulrike Ehmig and Rudolf Haensch. Bonn: Dr. Rudolph Habelt GmbH. RPC = Roman Provincial Coinage. 1992– . Edited by Andrew M. Burnett, Michel Amandry, and Pere Pau Ripollès. London and Paris: British Museum Press, Bibliothèque Nationale de France. SEG = Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum 1923–. Edited by J. J. E. Hondius et  al. Leiden: Brill.

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Piccinini, Jessica. 2013. “Dodona at the Time of Augustus: A Few Notes.” In Roman Power and Greek Sanctuaries: Forms of Interaction and Communication, edited by Marco Galli, 177–192. Athens: Scuola archeologica italiana di Atene. Pliakou, Georgia. 2001. “Leukas in the Roman Period.” In Foundation and Destruction: Nikopolis and Northwestern Greece, edited by Jacob Isager, 147–161. Athens: Danish Institute at Athens. Podini, Marco. 2014. La decorazione architettonica di età ellenistica e romana nell’Epiro del nord. Bologna: Bononia University Press. Revell, Louise. 2009. Roman Imperialism and Local Identities. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Reynolds, Paul. 2018. “The Supply Networks of the Roman East and West: Interaction, Fragmentation, and the Origins of the Byzantine Economy.” In Trade, Commerce, and the State in the Roman World, edited by Andrew Wilson and Alan Bowman, 353–395. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Riginos, Georgios. 2007. “Η Ρωμαιοκρατία στα δυτικά παράλια της Ηπείρου με Βάση τα πρόσφατα αρχαιολογικά δεδομένα από τη Θεσπρωτία.” In Νικόπολις Β, edited by Konstantinos Zachos, 163–173. Preveza: Hidryma Aktia Nikopolis. Rinaldi, Elia. 2020. Agorai ed edilizia pubblica civile nell’Epiro di età ellenistica. Bologna: Bononia University Press. Rizakis, Athanasios D. 1997. “Roman Colonies in the Province of Achaia: Territories, Land and Population.” In The Early Roman Empire in the East, edited by Susan E. Alcock, 15–36. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Sakellariou, Michael V., ed. 1997. Epirus: 4000 Years of Greek History and Civilization. Athens: Ekdotike Athenon. Schwandner, Ernst-Ludwig. (2001). “Kassope, The City in Whose Territory Nikopolis was Founded.” In Foundation and Destruction: Nikopolis and Northwestern Greece, edited by Jacob Isager, 109–115. Athens: Danish Institute at Athens. Shpuza, Saimir. (2016). La romanisation de l’Illyrie méridionale et de la Chaônie. Collection de l’École Française de Rome 513. Rome: École Française de Rome. Soustal, Peter, and Johannes Koder. 1981. Nikopolis und Kephallēnia. Wien: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Spawforth, Antony J. S. 2012. Greece and the Augustan Cultural Revolution. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Stadtmüller, Georg. 1954. “Das römische Straβennetz der Provinzen Epirus nova und Epirus vetus.” Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte, 3, no. 2: 236–251. Stein, Carol A. 2001. “In the Shadow of Nikopolis: Patterns of Settlement on the Ayios Thomas Peninsula.” In Foundation and Destruction: Nikopolis and Northwestern Greece, edited by Jacob Isager, 65–79. Athens: Danish Institute at Athens. Ugolini, Luigi M. 1932. L’acropoli di Fenice. Albania Antica 2. Milan: Treves, Treccani, Tumminelli. Ugolini, Luigi M. 1937. Butrinto: Il mito d’Enea, gli scavi. Rome: Instituto grafico tiberino. Ugolini, Luigi M. 1942. L’Acropoli di Butrinto. Albania Antica 3. Rome: Società editrice d’arte illustrate. Ugolini, Luigi M. 2003a. “Gli scavi del teatro.” In The Theater at Butrint: Luigi Maria Ugolini’s Excavations at Butrint 1928–1932, edited by Oliver J. Gilkes, 73–106. London: British School at Athens. Ugolini, Luigi M. 2003b. “The Sculpture from the Theater.” In The Theater at Butrint: Luigi Maria Ugolini’s Excavations at Butrint 1928–1932, edited by Oliver J. Gilkes, 198–246. London: British School at Athens. Vanderspoel, John. 2010. “Provincia Macedonia.” In A Companion to Ancient Macedonia, edited by Joseph Roisman and Ian Worthington, 251–275. New York: John Wiley & Sons. Veikou, Myrto. 2012. Byzantine Epirus: A Topography of Transformation. Leiden: Brill. Veseli, Sabina. 2006. “Archaeology, Nationalism and the Construction of National Identity in Albania.” In New Directions in Albanian Archaeology, edited by Lorenc Bejko and Richard Hodges, 323–330. Tirana: Mali Pleshti. Walker, Susan E. C. 1979. “The Architectural Development of Roman Nymphaea in Greece.” (PhD diss., University of London).

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CHAPTER 17

Achaea Dimitris Grigoropoulos

The province of Achaea, which was established during the Augustan period to include most of the southern Greek mainland, is typically viewed as an idiosyncratic, if not problematic, case of provincial incorporation into the empire. As a small province with limited natural resources and agricultural potential, but with a complex urbanized society and rich sociocultural institutions stretching back long before the Roman conquest, Achaea seems to have been a culturally distinctive but rather marginal part of the Roman world. This marginality (or implied singularity) is both an ancient and modern construct. The image of Achaea as a provincial backwater is a result of many factors, including judgmental comparisons with the pre-Roman past by both ancient and modern individuals, as well as a deeply entrenched Hellenocentric bias of modern archaeology in Greece. Although various material remains of the imperial age have been the subject of archaeological studies from the nineteenth century, interest has been sporadic and driven mainly by the priorities of work on other periods of the Greek past. In the last three decades, the upsurge of regional survey projects and systematic studies of the territory of ancient Greek cities (Alcock 1993) have facilitated deeper engagement with the archaeology of the Roman province. Together with numerous other specialist works, they attempt to question, either implicitly or explicitly, these inherited images, and search for specific patterns of material evidence that have previously been neglected. Since Alcock’s study, the archaeology of Achaea has developed into a fast-growing field that goes beyond the strict limits of survey archaeology. Continuing fieldwork and excavation in both urban centers and the countryside ensure that primary evidence is constantly being enriched and that new discoveries await critical appraisal and synthesis (e.g., Vlizos 2008; Rizakis and Touratsoglou 2013; Di Napoli et al. 2018). The interpretation of survey data and the historical reconstruction of settlement patterns, however, remain central issues (e.g., Rousset 2008; Stewart 2013). This chapter offers an outline of current knowledge and thinking about the archaeology of the province, focusing on the organization of the landscape, settlement patterns, and the nature and form of the built environment. Examination of these topics requires a combination of different types of archaeological and textual evidence and different approaches to interpretation, and aims to illustrate some of the

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complexities, limitations, and potentials of our knowledge. Discussion concentrates on the imperial period, from the late first century bce to ca. 300 ce; terms such as early Roman (late first century bce to early second century ce), middle Roman (mid-second to fourth century ce), and late Roman (fifth to seventh century ce) are meant to provide further chronological orientation, especially when discussing long-term developments. While this chapter is necessarily broad and selective, it facilitates a closer understanding of material conditions of life in the Roman province and may provide a basis for comparing Achaea with other provincial settings.

Landscape Organization and Regional Site Hierarchies Achaea’s territory is one of the smallest, yet also one of the most varied, among all Roman provinces, with a total area of approximately 30,000 km2 and a landscape characterized by numerous mountains, few fertile plains, and a long coastline dotted with natural harbors. The foundation of the province goes back to the destruction of Corinth in 146 bce, at which time it formed a single entity with Macedonia and included Thessaly. By the late first century ce, following the creation of the province of Epirus, the provincial territory extended roughly south of the Acheloos and the Spercheios rivers in the north and encompassed the southern part of the central mainland, with Euboea and the Peloponnese (Figure 17.1). In addition to Euboea, emperors had also granted several islands to the cities of Athens and Sparta during the imperial

Figure 17.1  Approximate provincial boundaries and regions of Achaea in the later first century ce as mentioned in text. By Dimitris Grigoropoulos.



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period, which may thus be counted as part of the provincial territory. From north to south, Athenian possessions included the islands of Imbros, Skiathos, Peparethos (modern Skopelos), and Skyros in the north Aegean; Kea and Delos in the central Aegean; the islands of the Saronic Gulf; and Zakynthos and Kephallenia in the Ionian Sea. Sparta, in turn, acquired the island of Kythera as a personal gift of Augustus, and the islet of Gaudos off the southwest coast of Crete from Hadrian. Several of these islands appear to have functioned mainly as breadbaskets for the cities they had been awarded to, but some included areas that lay under direct imperial control, like the colored marble quarries on Skyros. These communities were economically dependent on the larger centers to which they were attributed and paid an annual tax (vectigal), but at the same time retained their political status and administrative structure. Settlement patterns in the province and the organization of its landscape are typified by the existence of urban centers (poleis) and their surrounding territories, which provided agricultural land and other resources for their inhabitants. The majority of these urban centers had existed at the same location for centuries, while others were the result of nucleation (synoikismos) of preexisting smaller communities in the late Classical and early Hellenistic periods (fourth to early third centuries bce). As seen in Figure 17.2, their distribution in the provincial landscape was not even, nor were their territories of equal size, resources, or agricultural potential. Some regions, such as the western Argolid, Attica, and the Eurotas plain in Laconia, were dominated by single major nucleated centers (Argos, Athens, and Sparta, respectively). In others, such as the heartland of Boeotia around Lake Kopais and the region of eastern Phokis, several cities existed in proximity to one another, and several also shared the same territory. The status of these poleis varied depending on their size, perceived importance and, of course, their individual relations to Rome. One may note here that in the Roman period

Figure 17.2  Distribution of urban centers and second-order settlements in Achaea. By Dimitris Grigoropoulos.

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the term polis does not seem to match any archaeologically distinctive site type. Despite the sometimes-harsh judgments by ancient authors about the status of some Roman period urban sites in Greece as poleis, the existence of civic buildings, a theater, and a street plan, amongst others, may have been broadly indicative of, but were not a precondition for, urban function. Epigraphic evidence suggests that boundaries defining the city’s territory and their preservation were considered more important (Rousset 2008). In addition to the preexisting urban centers, colonies of Roman citizens founded in the northern Peloponnese by Caesar and Augustus represented a new form of urban and territorial organization. In the imperial period, Achaea came to include only two such colonies, Corinth and Patras. The Caesarean colony at Dyme was gradually abandoned after the foundation of Patras and its territory was incorporated into that of the new colony (Rizakis 1997). In addition, the Roman colony of Patras was substantially enlarged through population movements from nearby second-order settlements or larger poleis and was endowed with a huge hinterland, which included many taxpaying smaller urban centers (Rizakis 1997, 2010). Although both colonies were established on preexisting urban sites, they were largely planned anew on an orthogonal grid based on Roman units and, in contrast to the cities of the Greek mainland, entailed a novel conception of urban space. At the center of the colony at Corinth stood the Forum, a large space designed at the very beginning of the colony’s foundation, from which the cardo maximus and several other roadways emanated, generally following the perpendicular lines of the grid. The Forum square, its entrance points defined by monumental arches, was the location of various buildings of the colonial administration, markets, and temples. Colonial planning in both cities also incorporated prominent preexisting buildings and spaces to varying degrees, which could affect the grid (Petropoulos 2009; Rizakis 2010). The urban image of the colonies, while predominantly Roman, thus reflected an interplay between novel and preexisting elements. These colonies came to command large territories and extensive resources in their immediate hinterland and, in the case of Patras, even beyond (Rizakis 1997). This was a result of the reordering and successive appropriations of land at the time of their foundation, along with later restructuring and additions. In addition to the colonies and major urban centers, regional settlement hierarchies in Achaea encompassed various types of settlements that can be defined to different degrees by means of survey, excavation, and/or textual sources. A generic category of second-order settlements is villages or small towns, referred to in ancient literary sources as komai or polismata (Figure 17.2). In several cases, as in some sites in Arcadia mentioned by Pausanias (Roy 2010, 65), such komai had once been poleis with territories in their own right but had lost their status for various reasons by the Roman imperial period. For instance, this was the case with some cities of the northwestern Peloponnese: after the foundation of the Roman colony at Patras, they were subsumed as komai of the colony. One should also include in this category some settlements at a distance from their large urban centers that may or may not have been nucleated, such as the demoi of Athens and Eretria. These settlements ranged from agricultural villages and small towns to settlements with sanctuaries of local/regional or supra– regional importance, like Eleusis in Attica or Titane in Sikyonia, as well as ports like the Piraeus in Attica (Grigoropoulos 2016) or Antikyra in Phokis. The exploration of sites below the urban level has been one of the chief contributions of regional archaeological survey projects, yet the analysis and interpretation of related data have not been without problems. Surveys mainly classify second-order settlements and other rural sites using size criteria suggested by the distribution of surface material, mainly ceramics. These classifications and periodization schemes, however, are project-specific and hinder comparability between regions. What is more, due to the frequent lack of well-dated comparative ceramic material in some regions, many projects fail to distinguish between late Hellenistic and early Roman (imperial), or between middle and late Roman components. Taken at face value, the recorded distribution of these sites is also uneven. Imperial Boeotia



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has relatively fewer komai compared to previous periods, and those that survive appear to be smaller in size. Surveys in the hinterland of Oropos and Pylos have produced no more than one (Cosmopoulos 2001; Stewart 2013, 71), while the investigators of the Laconia Survey have registered no sites that could be identified as small towns or villages, but a number of other sites are interpreted as hamlets (Figure 17.3). More examples of second-order settlements of various sizes have been identified in the Asea valley (Stewart 2013, 58–59), the territory south of Megalopolis, and Sikyonia (Lolos 2011). With the exception of survey work on the towns of Boeotia (e.g., Bintliff 2004) and occasional rescue excavations, secondorder settlements have not been the focus of systematic archaeological investigation.

Figure 17.3  Site hierarchy of Roman sites in the area of the Laconia Survey. By Dimitris Grigoropoulos, from Cavanagh et al. 2002, vol. 2: 289, illustration 6.6.

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As Alcock (1993, 62–63) has noted, the increase in rural site size observed by regional surveys in many areas may be either related to second-order settlements or to villas, and it is important (though admittedly not always straightforward) to distinguish between the two. Several sites in Aetolia identified previously as villas, for instance, are now considered more likely to belong to such second-order settlements (Stavropoulou-Gatsi and Saranti 2013, 670–673). Sites identified as villas by regional surveys range between 0.1  ha and 35 ha (Alcock 1993), but some larger ones have also been documented. Defining archaeological markers include complex architectural remains, signs of conspicuous consumption (baths, hypocaust floors, mosaics) and evidence for the processing of agricultural products. Although not all sites identified as villas may meet all the above criteria, it is important that they indicate a certain expenditure and material investment beyond subsistence level. Several such sites investigated by survey and excavation have produced statuary or colored marble, while other indicators may include richly built tombs. In general, this investment shows the spread of a lifestyle that, with few exceptions, did not exist before in the rural areas of mainland Greece and suggests an expression of growing economic polarization and marked social inequalities (Rizakis 2013). Given that archaeological investigation of villas in Achaea is still at a very early stage, only tentative remarks about their distribution, location, and density in the landscape can be made. Chronology also remains a key problem, given that few villas have been excavated and published to a satisfactory degree. Another important issue that deserves further study is whether villas developed on preexisting rural settlements or in areas not inhabited or exploited before (e.g., Petropoulos and Rizakis 1994). Both survey evidence and excavated material generally suggest construction and occupation at different phases throughout the imperial period. Late first century bce and first century ce examples are known from the Corinthia, the hinterland of Achaia, and Boeotia, while the evidence from Aetolia is mainly from the second and third century ce (Petropoulos and Rizakis 1994; Rizakis and Touratsoglou 2013). Excavated villas in some areas have produced coin hoards that suggest a break in occupation after the middle of the third century ce. A similar pattern of lack of middle and late Roman occupation has been observed by the investigators of the Asea Valley survey (Forsén and Forsén 2003). In contrast, several large complexes in rural Attica seem to have been established in the third and fourth centuries ce (Stainchauer 2013). In most regions, villas tend to occur near urban centers, on major roads, and coastal areas (sometimes connected to harbor facilities), suggesting that they were integrated in regional and wider communication networks (Rizakis and Touratsoglou 2013). Otherwise, evidence from excavations and surveys suggests considerable regional variation in both villa distribution and density. Certain areas, such as the hinterland of Patras, Messenia, and Boeotia, appear to contain substantial numbers of villas, while others, like Attica, do not (Rizakis and Touratsoglou 2013). The Laconia survey registered no clear villa sites (Shipley 2002, 334), but more recent excavations in the outskirts of Sparta have brought to light tomb buildings and baths that suggest their existence (Zavvou 2013). The Berbati–Limnes survey area, conversely, is dominated by one large villa with a bath, processing areas, cistern facilities and a hypogeum tomb (Stewart 2013, 52, n. 55). In terms of location, villas are found both in the plains and at their margins, sometimes situated on slopes commanding a view over the surrounding landscape. Generally, the preference was for well-drained locations. In some areas where additional drainage was necessary, e.g., near lakes or rivers, epigraphic evidence and/ or archaeological remains show the existence of irrigation and drainage works. While villas may have been a prominent site type in some areas of Achaea, the vast majority of rural settlements identified by surveys and/or investigated by excavation belong to nonvilla sites. Surveys employ varying size classifications, nomenclature, and criteria of definition for these site types. The basic distinction is generally made on the basis of habitation as gleaned from the presence or absence of domestic finds (table wares, cooking wares,



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loomweights, etc.): residential farms and farmsteads, on the one hand, and sites of nonresidential function, like shelters, storehouses, or other outbuildings, on the other. Although farms often lack signs of conspicuous consumption, their remains may include well-built architectural features with facilities and equipment for the processing of agricultural products, such as presses, treading floors, and underground vats or tanks. In addition to pottery of domestic and storage functions, ceramic assemblages from some Roman–period non-villa farms also include imported fine and coarse wares, suggesting the existence of modest rural households with contacts to regional markets (Grigoropoulos 2013). The distribution and settlement history of these non-villa sites varies from one region to another. Their location is dependent upon local topography and related to their specific agricultural strategies, and there were regional differences in architectural form and spatial organization (Rizakis and Touratsoglou 2013). In the Laconia survey area, for example, most rural sites with evidence for Roman occupation were established on new locations and are both in the plain and in more marginal upland areas (Stewart 2013, 42-44). In some regions, on the other hand, rural sites appear to have been established in prominent preexisting buildings in the landscape, such as the so-called block towers of the Argolid. Mostly built in the fourth century bce, these were reoccupied mainly during late antiquity (fifth to seventh centuries ce), though some showed evidence for activity in the early and middle Roman periods. The imperial period inhabitants of Styra and Karystos in southern Euboea also reused ­preexisting, probably Classical, rural buildings in upland areas: the so-called drakospita have been interpreted as dwellings for the personnel supervising the imperial marble quarries, though others see them as summer lodgings for shepherds (Reber 2010). Another distinctive component of the provincial landscape with a hierarchy of its own was sanctuaries and cult places. The largest were Panhellenic sanctuaries like Delphi, Olympia, and Isthmia, together with pilgrimage sites of supra-regional importance like the sanctuary of Asklepios at Epidaurus, the sanctuary of Demeter at Eleusis or the Amphiaraeion of Oropos. These high-profile places were in effect urban conglomerations, where apart from the infrastructure for the cult and games, there existed a multitude of other buildings and amenities for the accommodation of large numbers of visitors and pilgrims. There were also sanctuaries in the territory of, or within a small distance from, urban centers, such as the Argive Heraion or the sanctuary of Demeter and Kore at Corinth, which held a local or regional importance. Rural areas were also populated by smaller cult places and shrines, generally with few signs of architectural monumentalization, and in some cases related to natural places like caves and mountain tops. While larger cult centers and civic sanctuaries enjoyed almost continuous attention and were the recipients of lavish gifts by benefactors throughout the imperial period, archaeological evidence suggests that cult places in rural areas experienced phases of desertion and reactivation (Alcock 1993, 202–210). The need for rapid communication and transport of imperial and provincial personnel and goods resulted in the development of an Achaean road network connecting urban centers, sanctuaries, and second-order settlements on the coast and in inland locations to the rest of the empire. Roads of various types had existed for centuries, and in most cases continued to be used in the imperial age. Evidence for this network is provided by discoveries of milestones, archaeological remains (bridges, road stretches) and information included in Roman itineraries and the Peutinger map (originally dated to the fourth or fifth century ce) (Figure 17.4). This network had three main strands radiating from the provincial capital at Corinth. A road running westward along the coast connected Corinth with the other Roman colony at Patras and the cities of western and southern Peloponnese. A second inland route ran via the Nemea valley to Tegea (a relay station on the cursus publicus), and from there to Laconia. Another route connecting Corinth to central Greece followed the ancient Skironian road along the coast and forked eastward to Athens and northward into Boeotia and Thessaly. From Skarpheia another route ran southward through the valley of Kephisos and over the

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Figure 17.4  Roads and communication nodes in Achaea; underlined sites are mentioned in Peutinger map. By Dimitris Grigoropoulos.

mountain ranges of central Greece through Aetolia to Nicopolis. The development of this network seems to have been gradual and included several phases of refurbishment. Major periods of road construction are in fact associated with specific events like the Parthian campaign of Trajan, during which Achaea was used as a transit point for the Roman troops (Alcock 1993, 121). Literary sources and archaeological evidence suggest that important components of the road network were roadside inns (e.g., Lolos 2011, 452) and rest stations that catered to travelers on the move.

The Dynamics of Urban and Rural Settlement Despite occupying a small geographical area and a varied terrain, Achaea was one of the most urbanized provinces of the empire, with cities that had existed for centuries. The archaeological record shows, however, that the Roman period witnessed significant changes affecting the degree of settlement in both town and country (Karambinis 2018). In discussing the nature of these reconfigurations in the landscape, Alcock (1993) distinguished between two broad types: external pressures that signaled the direct intervention by the conquering power, such as colonization, demographic shifts, and the redistribution of conquered territories; and processes of internal reorganization by the conquered societies that may be understood as responses to such external pressures, such as the extinction or survival of urban centers and the reorganization of their rural landscape. The extent and scale of these changes, as well as



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their regional occurrence and chronological frameworks, are matters of central importance to the archaeology of Achaea, to which both regional surveys and excavations have contributed significant new information over the past decades. As in other provinces, the establishment of Roman colonies was a major factor of external interference with preexisting settlement and landscape patterns. One of the most visible markers of this disruption is centuriation, land divisions planned and executed by the colonial authorities. Previous research has drawn attention to such divisions at the Augustan foundation of Nicopolis in Epirus (Alcock 1993, 137–140) as well as around the colonies of Dyme and Patras in the northern Peloponnese (Rizakis 1997). Air–photographic and mapping surveys in the hinterland of Corinth have revealed vestiges of regular divisions, allowing reconstruction of land allotments and a model of cadastral plans. Three successive phases of cadastral organization were dated both before and after the foundation of the colony in 44 bce. The most extensive, attributed to the Flavian period, encompassed an area of ca. 300  km2, including much of the rural land of nearby Sikyon to the west (Romano 2003, 289–298). In a heavily urbanized province like Achaea, the foundation of colonies deeply affected the established hierarchies, and even existence, of surrounding and more distant cities and their territories. For example, in the case of Patras, ancient sources mention that several preexisting cities in its immediate hinterland and in Aetolia were abandoned and their territories given to the Roman colony (Rizakis 2010). Although there is some confirmation in the available evidence, more recent research calls into question the scale and rate of the process. Survey in the hinterland of Patras suggests continued settlement in some preexisting small towns (polismata) like Boline, which according to Pausanias (7.2.22.1–23.1) “was once inhabited” (Petropoulos and Rizakis 1994). At the Caesarean colony of Dyme, the discovery of buildings and other remains of Augustan date and the minting of colonial coinage into the Tiberian period suggest that it was not abandoned after the foundation of Patras, but continued to be occupied at least as late as the reign of Nero (Rizakis 1997). Similarly, Calydon in Aetolia, whose territory was also incorporated into the colonial domain of Patras, does not demonstrate a break in occupation until ca. 50 ce, while other cities of Aetolia like Pleuron and Naupaktos were occupied without interruption down to the late Roman period (StavropoulouGatsi and Saranti 2013, 665–669). All this goes to demonstrate that, in this case at least, the formation of the colonial territory was a piecemeal process and did not affect all other urban centers to the same degree and at the same time. Other radical discontinuities such as nucleation, reduction in size, and extinction have also been postulated on evidence from intensive surveys as well as references from ancient sources. This is the case, for example, for several middle-to-small urban centers and their territories in regions like NW Keos and Boeotia (Alcock 1993). A shrinkage of the urban area in late Hellenistic to early Roman times was proposed by the respective surveys for the main nucleated settlements of Oropos (Cosmopoulos 2001) and Methana (Stewart 2013, 48). One should note here that in certain regions, like the southern Argolid (Stewart 2013, 64), urban decline and abandonment is already attested in the Hellenistic period, but existing chronologies from most surveys fail to distinguish between late Hellenistic and early (imperial) Roman. Even based on survey evidence alone, these processes did not affect all small urban centers and do not appear to form a coherent, province-wide pattern. Intensive and extensive surveys in other regions of Achaea, such as the Asea Valley in Arcadia and Sikyonia (Stewart 2013, 59–60; 77–78), suggest no change in the existence or size of urban centers in the imperial period. Not every region of Achaea followed the same trajectory, and use of survey evidence alone raises many questions about the chronology and visibility of surface material on which such inferences are based (cf. Hayes 2000; Rousset 2008). For urban sites, excavation, including the reappraisal of legacy data, particularly from rescue excavations (Grigoropoulos 2016), can provide a more refined framework for assessing the state, evolution, and extent of individual

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settlements in the imperial period. At Stymphalos, preliminary results suggest that the city was destroyed in the war between the Achaean League and Rome in 146 bce, resettled on a limited scale in the Augustan period, but eventually abandoned ca. 40 ce, following an earthquake (Williams 2005). Lousoi in Arcadia, a former polis subsumed to a lower-rank settlement of neighboring Kleitor sometime after 200 bce, is another example. Contrary to the bleak account of Pausanias (8.18.8), excavations have furnished evidence for continuous occupation, limited building activity, and assemblages of glass vessels that date throughout the early and middle Roman periods (Roy 2010: 59–73). As long as surveys are based on “coarse” periodization only and their results are not tested by excavation, arguments about urban decline based on such data should be treated with caution. Patterns observed in the settlement of rural sites lie at the core of Alcock’s (1993) charting of regional dynamics and proposed reconstruction of dramatic changes in the landscape of early imperial Achaea. One of the key issues highlighted there is a steep drop in overall numbers of rural sites documented by most regional surveys at the time, together with generally low levels of site continuity from the Hellenistic to the early Roman periods (Alcock 1993: 37–49). More recently published intensive surveys of Laconia, Berbati-Limnes in the Argolid, the Methana peninsula in the Peloponnese (Stewart 2013: 40–54), the hinterland of Oropos in Attica (Cosmopoulos 2001), and part of the hinterland of Thespiae in Boeotia (Bintliff 2004) seem to support this view. In many of these regions, however, and in others discussed by Alcock (e.g., the deme of Atene in Attica: Alcock 1993: 39–40), this drop in site numbers can be observed already in the early or middle Hellenistic period and seems to continue, albeit at a different rate and to a varying degree from one region to another, in the imperial age. Judging by the temporal depth of this phenomenon, it seems, then, that the patterns observed for the early imperial period had been set in motion centuries before (Rousset 2008). While rural Achaea clearly suffered decline in some areas, seeing the imperial period, or even the Roman conquest, as ushering in cataclysmic changes is an oversimplification. The problems posed by the recognizability and dating of surface material, particularly ceramics, should be emphasized once more. Even if surveys documenting drastic differences in site numbers between the Hellenistic and Roman period suggest rural decline in some regions, such inferences are clearly problematic if they are based on poorly understood pottery chronologies. For example, a significant number of rural sites have been excavated in Aetolia in recent years (Stavropoulou-Gatsi and Saranti 2013), which weighs against the notion of a deserted countryside in the early and middle Roman periods (Bommeljé and Vroom 1995). Extensive survey of Sikyonia has registered a rise in the number of sites (both large and small, dispersed and nucleated) dated ca. 31 bce–300 ce, as compared to the Hellenistic period (Lolos 2011). Combined extensive and intensive survey as well as rescue excavations in the hinterland of the Roman colony at Patras also indicate an explosion of rural settlement in the Roman period, leading to the establishment of both villas and smaller rural sites (Rizakis and Petropoulos 1994; Rizakis 2013). Interestingly, such an expansion of rural settlement does not correspond to a high level of site continuity, suggesting a high degree of variability in land exploitation and landholding patterns (Alcock 1993, 56). It is therefore a matter of debate whether site numbers and interperiod site continuity are the best types of evidence for assessing the persistence of rural activity. The material culture of rural sites, reflecting specific cultural preferences and economic considerations, should also be taken into account; though spatial and chronological patterns may indicate change, a more nuanced approach shows significant continuities. For example, Stewart (2013, 95–98) has drawn attention to the emergence of small rural sites on marginal lands suited for cultivation of specialized crops such as vines and olives in several survey regions of the Roman Peloponnese. Although these were in areas not occupied in previous periods, their ceramic material shows similarities in technology, fabric, and shapes to



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Hellenistic pottery, suggesting that despite the lack of occupation of these particular sites in that period, the continuity in material culture may indicate little disruption in settlement and possibly in landholding patterns in those areas. The emergence of villas in the provincial landscape poses similar questions. Surveys had led to the impression that areas previously occupied by small farms were subject to later concentration of land into large estates (Alcock 1993: 62), assumed to be centered on villas. More recent evidence, however, suggests that, while some villas did command large estates, these were hardly the norm in Achaea. Based on estimations of the size of excavated buildings, it is now postulated that most Achaean villas were in the range of 200–600  m2, corresponding roughly to estates of maximum 25–50 ha (Rizakis 2013, 35–36). There may have been more large estates in some regions – for example Boeotia (Bintliff 2004) – than others, but overall this phenomenon is now considered to be less widespread in the province than was previously thought. Instead, land may have been concentrated into larger properties even in regions that appear to have had few or no villas, for example Laconia (Stewart 2013, 42–44) or the hinterland of Oropos (Cosmopoulos 2001). In turn, the presence of villa estates need not have disrupted preexisting regional settlement patterns. This is suggested, for example, in the case of the estates of Herodes Atticus in Marathon and especially Loukou, where the local small town of Eua shows signs of prosperity and growth, even including an aqueduct, during the early and middle Roman period (Pausanias 2.38.6; Lolos 1997, 307). Villas may even have fostered the maintenance of preexisting smaller nucleated centers where elite families could exercise a greater control on economic and social life through civic munificence and patronage. Taken as a whole, the evidence currently at our disposal does not permit a unified, sweeping picture of decline but points to the recognition that different regions of Achaea followed different paths, both chronologically and with respect to the scale and extent of change in preexisting settlement patterns. Instead of reiterating rural decline as a widespread phenomenon specific to the imperial period, we should perhaps ask why this long-term process was not reversed or why it began to be reversed later in some regions than in others. A possible answer may be found in those regions, like the Patraike and Sikyonia, where rural settlement does seem to pick up in the early imperial period. It is perhaps no coincidence that this phenomenon is observable precisely in regions that were affected directly by Roman intervention as a result of the foundation of colonies and the extensive reorganization of their landscape. The absorption of extensive parts of the northern Peloponnese into colonial landscapes, despite the disruptions it caused, was a significant stimulus for the expansion of rural settlement and a more intensive agricultural exploitation. Analogous conditions that sought to spur the life of rural areas were created in regions like Attica, Boeotia, and Phokis only from the second and in the third century ce, by means of “emphyteutic” schemes encouraging cultivation of the land (Camia and Rizakis 2013, 76–77). These developments may be glimpsed in some of the regions where surveys register a somewhat more populated rural landscape from the third century ce, and they were instrumental in preparing the ground for an expansion of rural settlement in the late Roman period, which has been documented in most regions of Achaea.

The Material Conditions of Life The archaeological evidence for the organization of the landscape and the evolution of settlement in town and country in Achaea demonstrate a rich and varied response to imperial incorporation and the development of the province over time. Regional dynamics and discrepant paths of evolution both within the province and with respect to the rest of the empire

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may also be observed at the level of the material conditions of life. The preceding discussion offers many glimpses into several aspects of these conditions, including the production and exploitation of resources, strategies of territorial control by imperial authorities, and the cultural and social significance attached to the inherited landscape. The discussion that follows explores another aspect, namely the construction of the built environment. It is not a comprehensive survey of architectural monuments nor a complete typology of buildings or features to be found in Achaea, but, rather, an attempt to map in a general manner similarities and differences in the built environment between different communities and site types in the province.

Buildings in Civic Centers and Public Spaces Civic centers have been the focus of systematic investigation since the beginnings of archaeology in Greece and therefore provide one of the richest datasets for examining the evolution of urban spaces. As places of administrative, political, and economic functions vital to the life of cities long before the imperial period, they were the urban locations par excellence, where collective identity was forged and where messages about authority and power relations were communicated. The evolution of civic spaces in the Greek cities during the Roman period obviously depended on the form and disposition of preexisting monuments, local conditions, and the history of each individual site, as well as successive acts of aggrandizement by civic authorities and/or powerful and rich individuals. With regard to the architectural form and content, Evangelidis (2010) identifies several crucial elements of change, including a tendency toward closed, well-defined rather than open spaces, the accentuation of access routes, an increased differentiation of commercial/ economic activities from administrative ones, and an emphasis on architectural monumentalization. Many of these changes are clearly seen at Athens. Several scholars have emphasized the process by which in the late first century bce the empty triangular central space of the Athenian Agora became increasingly populated by larger or smaller buildings and monuments brought from elsewhere in Attica, which in effect rendered defunct the open character of a location traditionally used for assemblies of the city population (Alcock 1993, 93; Evangelidis 2010). The initiation of large-scale building projects undertaken both by imperial and civic authorities was instrumental in changing the character of the Agora. By emphasizing architectural archaism or by showcasing older monuments brought from other areas of Attica and strengthening the religious aspect of the Agora, these interventions underlined and combined particular aspects of Athenian identity with Augustan ideology. Construction of porticoes closed the Agora further, and a new hub of commercial activities was built behind the Stoa of Attalos as an enclosed market complex, the Roman Agora, or Roman Forum, begun under Caesar and completed by the civic authorities under Augustus. Later building projects accentuated the monumentalized character of the Agora through the construction of gateways and buildings like the Library of Pantainos and Hadrian’s Basilica. Because of the special importance attached to the city under the Augustan regime, Athens may offer an extreme example of how civic centers were reconfigured at the beginning of the imperial period. This reconfiguration did not take the same form everywhere and, as in Athens, it was a slow process. At Argos, there was no new building activity in the civic center between the late first century bce and the later first century ce, with the exception of some repairs to preexisting porticoes, the remodelling of a Classical building into what was perhaps a gymnasium, and the refurbishment of an older racetrack probably used for athletic contests. The Agora here must also have retained some of its economic functions like craft production, as suggested by evidence of workshops in some of the porticoed buildings (Aupert 2001). New building projects were initiated only in the later first century ce, such as a larger



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courtyard complex with an axially placed temple, interpreted as an Asklepieion but perhaps also a temple for the imperial cult. Despite the scale of the building, the Agora appears to have largely retained its spatial integrity until late in the second century ce, when a new fountain– house was built on top of the old racetrack, rendering it defunct (Evangelidis 2010, 84–94). Civic centers of colonies represented a different concept of space, as seen most evocatively at Corinth. At the heart of the colony lay the Forum, a hierarchically structured open space measuring ca. 200 × 100 m, laid out according to the colony’s grid and surrounded by key monuments of administrative and cultic function (Romano 2003, 279–301). The buildings diverge in alignment, but the general scheme of hierarchic organization and axial relationships is known from Italian and other western colonies. Broadly speaking, this consists of an area sacra to the west, i.e., a dominating temple on a podium, that stood opposite the so-called Julian Basilica in the east. The south side incorporated the old South stoa, fronted by a continuous row of rooms flanking the rostra (so named in Latin inscriptions: Kent 1966, 119–121; 128–129), while the north was defined by a long portico along the south temenos of the Archaic temple of Apollo and another basilica laid out toward the cardo maximus. The development and monumentalization of the Forum was again a gradual and piecemeal process, and there is much debate concerning the significance of preexisting monuments incorporated into its fabric, and the extent to which they determined aspects of its early design (Evangelidis 2010, 212–251). Corinth’s Forum had several building types that, though some had Hellenistic predecessors, are clearly western in their design, ground plans and/or construction materials. The three basilicas, moreover, constructed from the Augustan period through the early first century ce, were of a type unknown to preexisting Greek architecture and reflect a radically different predisposition toward performing economic and administrative activities in closed spaces (Evangelidis 2010, 247). Another element of this trend may be found in the closed peristyle markets that were constructed at the northern fringes of the Forum and probably catered for wholesale and retail commercial activities (Williams 1993). Among these is the Macellum of Secundus, an enclosed rectangular building of Augustan date with shops on the north and south sides of a peristyle court and a circular structure (tholos) at its center, which probably functioned as a fish market. Most of the building types considered above are rarely found outside colonies in Achaea, and others are unique to Corinth. The only basilica known from elsewhere in the province is Hadrian’s Basilica in Athens, while, except for a few examples in cities of the Peloponnese (most only epigraphically attested), macella are rare in Achaea.

Buildings for Games and Spectacles From the Archaic period onward, cities and sanctuaries in southern Greece often possessed large venues for agonistic festivals and various performances that were an integral part of polis life. Therefore, in Roman Achaea, theaters, odea (small roofed theaters), and stadia were an inherited element of the built environment and thus also sensitive markers of wider changes in the landscape. In some urban centers and sanctuaries, older theaters and stadia ceased to function as such or were largely derelict by the early imperial period (Di Napoli 2010, 254–255). For example, the early Hellenistic stadium of Nemea seems to have been largely abandoned by the mid-first century ce, though a few finds suggest some intermittent use, the latest of which may have involved animal–keeping (Miller 2001). The Nemean games, however, were not discontinued but simply moved to the city stadium at Argos. Those old theaters, odea, and stadia that continued in use, however, remained significant foci of activity and, together with newer spectacle buildings, characterized the urban image of many Achaean cities and sanctuaries. (Figure 17.5).

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Figure 17.5  Distribution of buildings for mass spectacles in Achaea; filled shapes are monuments constructed in the Roman period; empty shapes are Classical/Hellenistic monuments with Roman additions and/or modifications. By Dimitris Grigoropoulos.

A study by Di Napoli (2013) shows that the majority of theaters used during the imperial period were preexisting buildings with varying degrees of architectural modifications, additions, or repairs. Theater buildings and odea originally constructed in the imperial period are few: the theater at Corinth, one at Sparta, and one at Gytheion. Of these, only the one at Gytheion does not have a Greek predecessor. Corinth’s theater, of Roman plan and Augustan date, was built on top of the Greek theater, while that at Sparta, whose first phase is dated ca. 30–20 bce, shows a plan that is closer to late Hellenistic than Roman theater forms. Di Napoli (2013) notes that all odea constructed for the first time in the Roman period date to the second century ce (except for the odeon of Patras; see Petropoulos 2009, 70) and links this with particular types of performances within the cultural milieu of the Second Sophistic. There is less archaeological information about the construction and use of stadia in Achaea, but what there is also suggests the maintenance and utilization of preexisting venues. This took the form of repairs and upkeep of the racetrack and the starting mechanisms, or, as in the Panathenaic Stadium at Athens, the addition of marble seating, there paid for by the mid–second century ce Achaean magnate Herodes Atticus (Welch 1998). Extant stadia in cities and sanctuaries like Sikyon, Isthmia, and Argos were mentioned in contemporary literary sources as still in use for games and contests in the imperial period, but they have either not been identified or remain unexcavated. The only new stadium yet known is the “Stadion/Theater” in the Roman colony of Patras: a hybrid building, ca. 200 × 90 m, with two curved ends, instead of one as in Greek style stadia. It has been dated to the later part of the first century ce, associated with the hundredth anniversary of the foundation of the colony in 86 ce (Petropoulos 2009, 79; Rizakis 2010, 136–137).



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Italian types of spectacle building are generally rare in Achaea. Corinth is the only site yet known that had a circus for chariot races and an amphitheater, which was probably erected as early as the foundation of the colony (Romano 2005, 586; Di Napoli 2010, 258). Something that resembles an amphitheater was constructed to enclose the Temple of Artemis Orthia in Sparta after ca. the mid–third century ce, but this was used to view rituals, not arena spectacles. Contemporary literary sources do mention gladiatorial combats and animal hunts, but they were staged in other venues: several theaters and possibly some stadia in cities of Achaea, including the Theater and Odeon of Corinth and the Stadium of Messene (Themelis 2009), were adapted for these purposes. Most such adaptations in Achaea date from the later first to the late third century ce, but Welch (1998) has argued from epigraphic and literary evidence that before theaters began to be adapted for this purpose, blood spectacles were staged in stadia. Adaptation took the form of high protective parapets, which sometimes necessitated dismantling the lower row of seats of the cavea, but more temporary measures, like fences or posts for tension ropes holding nets, are also postulated from archaeological evidence (Welch 1998; Di Napoli 2013). The theaters at Corinth and Argos also show arrangements for staging water shows (Di Napoli 2013).

Temples and Sanctuaries Alcock (1993, 1994) defined the sacred landscape of the province as incorporating elements of both continuity and change. Alcock emphasized patterns in the organization of cult activity, the role of elite or imperial agency in sustaining cults, and the degree to which shifts in urban cults reflected the situation in the countryside. Rather than focusing on cults, this chapter will briefly review the types of buildings, their chronology, and distribution across the province. This is not without limitations, however. Although attention is now increasingly paid to Roman phases in Greek sanctuaries, our main sources for these data are urban centers and prominent extra-urban and Panhellenic sanctuaries, with their rich sequences of building remains and epigraphic material. Identification of cult activity from surveys in rural areas (Alcock 1993, 200–210) remains fraught with difficulties, not least because the relevant assemblages of Roman date are not as identifiable by particular types of ceramics (terracottas, miniatures, etc.) as are previous periods (Hayes 2000, 105). Due to this, as well as the dearth of excavations, Roman cult activity in rural areas requires further archaeological investigation. Almost all major sanctuaries for which relevant archaeological and epigraphic evidence exists were the foci of cult for centuries, so building activity and other evidence for use in the imperial period generally consists of a series of additions to their fabric. Repairs and restorations are the first type of evidence. Such measures have been archaeologically documented in several cases, and many more are attested from epigraphic and literary evidence. Among the earliest, dated to the Augustan period, are those attested for the South Portico and the Echo Portico at Olympia. The Claudian repair of the Temple of Nemesis at Rhamnous involved the replacement of several blocks of the pediment and architrave (Alcock 1993, 256, n. 30), while extensive repairs are also attested for the Temple of Poseidon and the Theater at Isthmia in the mid-first century ce (Gebhard 1993, 75–94). It is important to note that these repairs and restorations often displayed a spirit of conscious archaism extremely characteristic of early imperial Greece. The materials used, along with the execution and modeling, attempted to mimic the original monuments and buildings as closely as possible, and are sometimes almost undetectable as later additions. A good example is a Doric capital from the Argive Heraion mimicking an early Archaic form but dated to the imperial period on the basis of technical details and measurements (Pfaff 2005). Repairs and restorations of older shrines sometimes adapted them for new cult purposes, particularly rededication to members of the imperial family and the imperial cult. In fact,

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restoration and adaptation sometimes coincided, as with the Temple of Nemesis–Livia at Rhamnous and the Metroon at Olympia, restored in the Augustan period to house the imperial cult (Alcock 1993, 190). Adaptations ranged from minor changes to the preexisting architectural fabric and the rearrangement of the interior space for the erection of cult statues, to a more radical remodeling and insertion of new cult buildings, as in the annex to the Stoa of Zeus Eleutherios at Athens (Evangelidis 2010, 53). A similar phenomenon is attested at Delphi, where a small oikos of the Classical period was modified to house a cult image of Antinoos. This is in line with other practices of fusion that were common in Achaea, like the rededication of older statue bases to emperors, the frequent iconographic pairing of emperors with native gods, and the sculptural representation of emperors in the guise of gods (Karivieri 2002). Architectural adaptations of old cult places should therefore not be understood as betraying lack of economic investment but were dictated by conscious decisions to “naturalize” the imperial cult by accommodating it into the material fabric of native ancestral Greek cult practice. Another type of modification with equally strong symbolic overtones was the systematic dismantling and transplanting of temples to new locations, most clearly seen in the Athenian Agora (Alcock 1993). Although the context of most such measures and the agents responsible for them (civic or imperial authorities) are not always clear, this practice reflects a radical reorganization in the material landscape of cult, comparable to the movement of cult images from smaller to larger centers, as in the case of the image of Artemis Laphria that was removed from Calydon to a new temple at Patras following its foundation as a Roman colony. It is useful to examine and compare the evidence for repairs and modifications with that for new building projects. Temple buildings erected for the first time in the imperial period are few, and most are to be found in Corinth and in major sanctuaries. The majority of those in sanctuaries made use of Roman building styles and masonry techniques. Some were constructed to some extent in the later first century, but most in the second century ce. Most building projects in sanctuaries involved works of infrastructure. At Olympia, these included no less than five bath complexes built between the late first and the early fourth century ce. To these should be added the North Building (a dining pavilion with a bath), the restored Leonidaion, and new guesthouses built in the third century ce, as well as the water supply works (nymphaeum and aqueduct) provided by Herodes Atticus. In addition to restoration of various buildings of the Hellenistic period at the sanctuaries of Apollo and Asclepius at Epidaurus, new buildings included a bath complex, an odeon, a nymphaeum with a large underground cistern, and a library (Melfi 2010, 334–335). Monumental arches and gateways (propyla) marking entrances to sacred precincts were also becoming a common new feature by the mid-first century bce (e.g., Eleusis: Sauron 2001). Most of this building activity appears to have taken place from the second century ce in the context of extensive building projects undertaken by Hadrian and his successors, as well as other high-ranking members of the imperial and provincial ruling class.

Aqueducts, Fountains, and Baths In many Achaean cities, a water-supply system with one or more subterranean aqueduct channels, reservoirs, and urban distribution outlets (fountains and fountain houses) had existed by at least the Hellenistic period. The Roman period, however, saw a significant amount of aqueduct construction in the province. New aqueducts were built for Roman colonies, for several settlements that did not possess one before (e.g., Gytheion, Eleusis, and Mantineia), as well as for smaller communities like Koroneia in Boeotia and Hermione in the Argolid. In other cities, like Athens and Argos, new construction was combined with refurbishments to the existing water supply system. The most comprehensively published



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aqueducts in the province remain those of Corinth (Lolos 1997), built by Hadrian, and Athens (Leigh 1997), started by Hadrian and completed under Antoninus Pius. The Corinth aqueduct combined both subterranean and above-ground segments carried on arched bridges and supporting walls with or without arches, and ran for approximately 85 km from Stymphalos to the city. The Athenian aqueduct ran for ca. 25 km from Mount Parnes, with several supply lines into the urban area. Lolos (1997) estimates the daily output of Corinth’s aqueduct at 80,000 m3, while the estimate by Leigh (1997) for that of the Hadrianic aqueduct of Athens is 37,152 m3. A number of other aqueducts are known either through literary evidence (e.g., Koroneia) or archaeological discoveries (e.g., Argos) to have been Hadrianic projects. Others, like the aqueduct of Patras, are considered to be Hadrianic on circumstantial grounds, or in the case of Piraeus, by association with Hadrian’s refurbishments to the city’s water supply. Three aqueducts are associated with Herodes Atticus: the one in Olympia mentioned above, one supplying the baths in the sanctuary of Egyptian gods at Brexiza, and another discovered near the Roman small town of Eua in Arcadia. The second century was clearly a major period of aqueduct construction, which is mirrored in the increased construction of baths, fountains, and nymphaea (Aristodemou and Tassios 2017). But beyond these, precise information for the chronology of construction and later history of most Roman aqueducts yet known is lacking. Construction of aqueducts does not seem to have radically altered the supply of water to domestic buildings. The existence of domestic bath suites and latrines suggests that richer houses may have tapped the aqueduct supply, but most households continued to rely primarily on the collection of rainwater in cisterns. The chief outlets of water for urban consumption were springhouses, fountains, and nymphaea. In most cities, numerous preexisting fountains, ranging from simple drawing basins to more elaborate buildings with architectural framing or subterranean natural grottoes, continued to be used with little or greater modification down to the late first century ce or later (Augusta-Bularot 2001). By the second century ce, such buildings had become monumental, with large rectangular or semicircular drawing basins and elaborate facades articulated by niches for statues. Two fountains in Athens, the so-called Reservoir on the Lycabettus hill (Leigh 1997) and the one in the southeast corner of the Classical Agora (Leigh 2017), as well as the Larissa Nymphaeum in Argos (Longfellow 2010, 113–120), were built in conjunction with the improvement of the water supply of these two cities under Hadrian and Antoninus Pius. It is worth noting that as a result of the introduction of new hydraulic infrastructure into the Agora, several preexisting water works fell into disuse (Leigh 2017, 220). Despite their slightly different dates, the Larissa hill and Lycabettus fountains share a similar architectural conception and execution, which is based on the combination of rock-cut and constructed features and a vaulted hall terminating in an apse (Longfellow 2010, 113–123). Apart from public fountains and nymphaea, aqueducts primarily served bath complexes, which began to be built on a massive scale across the province from the second century ce. Of course there had been baths both in domestic (houses, hostels) and public contexts (gymnasia, sanctuaries) in the Classical and Hellenistic periods, and there is evidence to suggest that several public baths with individual bathing tubs (e.g., at Eretria: Theurillat, Ackerman, and Zurbriggen 2018) continued to function after refurbishments in the imperial period (Farrington 1999). At the colony of Corinth, the earliest baths excavated so far lie to the north of the Peribolos of Apollo, and their earliest phase is dated to the Augustan period (Biers 2003, 303–319). They show a simple linear plan with the usual range of heated and unheated rooms, and at a later stage were fronted by a courtyard with a continuous line of shops. No new baths were constructed in Athens during the Augustan period, but older bathing complexes, such as the baths southwest of the Areopagus, were extensively refurbished with brick-faced concrete walls and the addition of hypocaust floors (Farrington 1999).

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It seems, then, that typical Roman-style baths appeared at different times at Athens and Corinth. Although Roman baths in Achaea remain understudied, one might expect such differences elsewhere in the province (for Argos, see Panagiotopoulou 1998). Baths were not limited to urban areas but are also found in the countryside, though more research is needed to clarify their distribution in villas and non-villa settlements. The Achaean examples seem to be variants of a generic type with three or four rooms arranged around a central courtyard or a central interior space. Farrington (1999, 63–64) notes that Achaean baths are generally rather small and simple establishments and there is a total absence of the large bath–gymnasium complexes common in the cities of Asia Minor. Nevertheless, some sizable and elaborate bath buildings did exist, like the Great Bath on the Lechaion road in Corinth (Biers 2003, 311–313) and the so-called Thermes A in Argos, which show a complex plan, lavish use of colored marble, and sculpture in the facades.

Domestic Buildings Numerous remains of domestic buildings of imperial date have been excavated all over Achaea, but only recently have they begun to be studied in a comprehensive manner and not simply for their individual elements of decoration such as mosaics, sculpture, or wall paintings (Bonini 2006). In both cities and the countryside, many domestic buildings had been occupied for centuries, and their plans and spatial organization reflect a cumulative picture of their occupation history and the choices of former and new occupants. A general tendency from late Hellenistic times on is an increase in the size and complexity of the buildings, together with more frequent representational and decorative elements, like pools, peristyle courts, decorative niches, and tessellated or marble-paved floors. Meanwhile, houses constructed for the first time in the imperial period demonstrate the emergence and spread of new plans and elements that were clearly imported from Italy and the West, though with substantial chronological and regional variation within the province (Papaioannou 2007; Bonini 2009, 121–162). The most common preexisting urban house type that persisted in the imperial period shows an arrangement of residential and service quarters (storage areas and workshop facilities) around an open courtyard. Such houses had beaten earth floors or simple pebble mosaics and were generally built using mainly local stone and mortar. Courtyards were a central space for circulation and household chores but also the space where cisterns for the household’s water supply were located. A number of such houses are known in Athens, dating as late as the second century ce (Papaioannou 2007), while a large example (eleven rooms, including a bath and possibly a garden) has been excavated at Stymphalos and dates to the late first century bce (Williams 2005). This courtyard type, with variations in size and plan according to local conditions, also seems to have been the norm for houses in rural areas, e.g., in Boeotia and Attica (Rizakis and Touratsoglou 2013), though from the later first century ce rural areas were increasingly populated by villas, multiroom complexes that, in some cases, appear to have combined quarters for both agricultural and residential functions, together with other outbuildings (see above). In the Roman colonies of Patras and Corinth, the majority of houses excavated so far show the presence of impluvia, sunken pools with marble-paved surfaces and occasionally a fountain, which are a typical feature of Italian houses from the Republican period. This suggests a compluviate (inward sloping) roof above and signals the space as a Roman-style atrium. These have been classified according to spatial arrangement and the presence or absence of columns supporting the roof (Papaioannou 2007). Despite the fragmentary nature of many examples, some houses with simple (non-colonnaded) or tetrastyle atria



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appear to have been sizeable properties, with multiple spaces featuring lavish mosaic floors for reception, and other areas built with simpler materials and less elaborate floors likely for everyday household purposes. In some cases baths and latrines have also been identified (Bonini 2009, 145–146). Houses with atrium spaces and m ­ ultiple courts, like the second century ce domus at the Panayia Field in Corinth (Papaioannou 2007), present even more complex plans. Despite the presence of clear Roman elements in the architecture, decorative elements, and building styles of such houses in Corinth and Patras, the arrangement of their spaces differs significantly from that of typical Campanian atrium houses, though this is not always easy to establish due to the frequent incompleteness of ground plans (Bonini 2009). Thus, even in Roman colonies, where Italians were an important part of the population and houses may be expected to conform more to Roman or Italian prototypes, house forms were not simply adopted from Italy, but adapted adapted to local conditions and needs. Outside the colonies, excavated house remains in (for example) Athens and Sparta also show Roman/Italian elements, though for many examples exact chronological information is lacking. At Athens, it appears that impluvia, for instance, were a rather late phenomenon and began to be built only in the second and third centuries ce (Papaioannou 2007). Most buildings with atria are also of larger size and have sumptuous furnishings, so are reasonably associated with households of economic and social power in their local communities. In Patras, interestingly, the highest concentration of lavish urban residences occurs in the lower town, together with poorer dwellings and workshops (Bonini 2009, 160). Compared to other provinces, little work so far has addressed the housing of the lower social strata in Achaea. Recent investigations of the rich assortment of commercial spaces on late Hellenistic Delos have identified small tenements of sizes ranging between 4 and 72 m2 with access from the street and sometimes a mezzanine, probably used for both commercial and residential purposes (Karvonis 2008). In the Piraeus, the Roman phases of a residential block with evidence of occupation from the Classical period to the sixth century ce also included a series of small spaces that were accessed independently from the main street and may have functioned both as workshops or commercial spaces and as residential units (Grigoropoulos and Tsaravopoulos 2012). In the early fourth century ce, this block was subdivided and a new row of spaces was appended to the rooms on the street front, creating further small independent apartments for rent.

Cemeteries and Sepulchral Monuments Cemeteries, burial precincts, and individual sepulchral monuments are known from all over Achaea, though the level of publication and the degree of coverage for city and countryside varies. In cities, even if old fortification walls became defunct, extramural and/or peri-urban burial remained the norm throughout imperial times, with cemeteries and burial monuments lining up along major roadways (Giatroudaki, Panagiotopoulos, and Servetopoulou 2008, 167–184). This pattern is well attested in both Roman colonies and cities of non-Roman status, but it varied in the form and placement of the tombs, as well as in their overall spatial and topographic arrangement, which could evoke specific symbolic connotations. At the Kerameikos in Athens, for example, a burial precinct and a series of built monumental tombs erected in the Augustan period and the later first century ce, respectively, were highly visible individual architectural monuments standing in close association with the Dipylon Gate, the traditional starting place of the Great Panathenaia (Stroszeck 2008). A different picture emerges from the cemeteries in the outskirts of the Roman colony of Patras, where monuments of varying architectural form, size, and construction were placed

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side by side, creating a near-continuous monumental facade facing the street (Dekoulakou 2009, 163–210). These Italian-style streetside cemeteries are also documented in cities of non-Roman status like Argos, where a series of Hellenistic burials were cleared for the construction of a large multiburial complex in the second century ce (Banaka-Dimaki 1998). In ports, clusters of tombs were also commonly placed on rocky outcrops overlooking the sea, as at Kenchreai (Rife et al. 2007). More prominent landmarks were exploited for the location of high-status burials for members of the ruling classes, such as the tomb of C. Iulius Philopappos on the Hill of the Muses in Athens, the Temple-heroon of Saithidas in Messene (Themelis 2009), or the burial building of Herodes Atticus at the Panathenaic Stadium in Athens (Welch 1998). A variety of types of monuments were used for both inhumations and cremations. They range from simple graves to rock-cut or constructed subterranean chambers, burial precincts, and freestanding built tombs. The simplest forms were cist graves covered by slabs, or pits covered by earth or tiles, normally marked by a tombstone. Often tombs were arranged in precincts surrounded by an enclosure wall or simply placed in clusters along roads (Giatroudaki, Panagiotopoulos, and Servetopoulou 2008, 167–184). More elaborate rectangular open-air precincts, belonging to families, clans, or burial clubs (collegia), are also known from Patras, Argos and Athens, among others, and seem to have been used over several generations (Stroszeck 2008; Dekoulakou 2009). Rectangular built tombs, frequently referred to as mausolea, had one or more chambers with niches, and could be subterranean or even have an upper story, as known from Patras (Dekoulakou 2006), or be raised on podia, sometimes with elaborate temple-like facades. Tombs of the same general type found in rural contexts are associated with elite residences. Tomb buildings have been frequently seen as indicators of Italian or Roman influence (Flämig 2007), and even in cities like Argos and Athens, epigraphic evidence suggests that several of these tombs were indeed erected by either Italians or Greeks with Roman citizenship. Their design, arrangement, and execution, however, reveal significant regional and chronological variation, suggesting that their origins should be sought not just in Italy but in other provinces, not least in the preexisting Hellenistic sepulchral architecture of the Greek mainland (Stroszeck 2008, 301–302).

Concluding Remarks In considering the archaeology of Achaea, previous scholarship has set the tone by foregrounding regional approaches to the evidence based primarily on the material provided by intensive or extensive surveys. From the brief review attempted in this chapter, it becomes clear that it is important to link regional studies and surveys with the focused investigation of sites of different status and material remains of various types and to refine existing knowledge about their form, function, and chronology. In addition to the divergent paths that several regions seem to have followed, the evidence at our disposal shows some similarities but also significant differences in the way the material environment of cities and the countryside of Achaea was shaped in the imperial period. Given the multilayered social and ethnic composition of Achaean cities, as revealed by their rich epigraphic evidence, an important direction should be to look for the agency of various population groups via archaeological evidence and to examine multiple directions of influences in the material culture of the province. Complementing the long-term p ­ erspectives provided by surveys with studies of individual sites at a synchronic level will not only permit a better-grounded understanding of local developments but ultimately can enhance the comparability of Achaea with other areas of the Roman world.



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Acknowledgments This chapter has greatly benefited from discussions with Vassilis Evangelidis, Yannis Lolos, Rebecca Sweetman, and Athanasios Rizakis. I am grateful to Richard Hingley, Yannis Lolos, and Athanasios Rizakis for reading a first draft and for their comments and suggestions.

Biographical Note Dimitris Grigoropoulos is senior research staff member and head of Archive at the Deutsches Archäologisches Institut (DAI), Abteilung Athen. His interests include the archaeology of Roman Greece, with a special focus on pottery. He has worked as a pottery specialist for a number of excavation and survey projects in Greece and Egypt and, apart from pottery reports, has published on the history, economy, and culture of Greece in the Roman Empire and late antiquity.

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CHAPTER 18

Crete and the Cyclades Rebecca J. Sweetman

Introduction Our knowledge of the archaeology of Crete and the Cyclades in the Roman period has increased significantly in the last forty years. With some notable exceptions like the excavations at Gortyn, or material deemed to be noteworthy like mosaics or a theater, the Roman period in these islands was often viewed as an inconvenient byproduct of the quest to reach earlier, often prehistoric, layers. In the latter part of the nineteenth century, archaeologists investigating Melos were clear in their publications that the “Greek” remains were their key interest, and even the extensive site of Tramythia was too Roman to hold their attention for more than a couple of seasons (Smith 1895/6). The impact of the delayed consideration of the Roman period in Greece is that it is still difficult to construct a macro view of the archaeology of these provinces that details evidence for urbanization, infrastructures like roads, and rural domestic habitation and religion. Nonetheless, a micro view of certain towns and areas is available through research and rescue excavations, while survey has provided a broad but general view of some areas. Although the number of material cultures and analysis of the data are increasing, there are still considerable gaps in our knowledge of the archaeology of Crete and the Cyclades in the Roman period, which on occasion have been filled with assumptions based on preconceptions and stereotypes of how these provinces should have behaved.

Crete After a three-year-long battle, in 67 bce Crete fell to Q. Caecilius Metellus. The only city to have surrendered, Gortyn, was made the capital of the joint praetorian province of Crete and Cyrene (Figure 18.1). Despite its renowned resistance to the Romans, Knossos was made the province’s only colony, most likely to have been a civilian one founded by Augustus. Although the date of foundation is contentious, both Paton (1994, 142) and Sanders (1982, 14) suggest that it must have been around 27 bce. Crete and Cyrene became a Senatorial province

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Figure 18.1  Map of Crete, by John Wallrodt.

with a yearly appointed proconsul under Augustus. The joint administration of the two areas is likely to reflect a practical arrangement, perhaps to better control the valuable trade routes between Crete and North Africa. In 295–297 ce Crete was separated from Cyrene and made into a single province under an equestrian praeses in the Diocese of Moesia (Sanders 1982, 6). Sources such as Livy, Cassius Dio, and Diodorus Siculus indicate that the Romans brought peace to Crete and facilitated its growing prosperity; typically, they note Roman arbitration (Livy 37.60–38.39) and issues of pirates (Diodorus Siculus 40.1). Analysis of literary evidence has encouraged a top-down approach to the provinces under discussion here. As with many provinces, diversity within the island and the multifarious active roles it played are somewhat masked by that traditional top-down approach, where the provinces were generally discussed in relation to Rome and more often than not were seen as inferior to Rome (Morris and Scheidel 2009). As will be suggested, however, archaeology indicates that it is far more likely that the Cretans themselves had a much greater role in developing their own economic interests in the empire, and there is very little in the archaeology to indicate extensive interference on the island from Rome. Some suggest that there was a certain conservatism about Cretan names in the Roman period, which in a Roman elite view might have been considered regressive. An alternative view attainable through archaeology, however, is that this conservatism likely reflects more of a nonchalant attitude to Rome, rather than a deficiency in cultural credibility (Sweetman 2013). While Roman law and administration were in place, the archaeology of Crete and the Cyclades under the empire indicates that they used their new status to further economic benefit whenever possible. Instead of a quashing of local innovation, being part of the empire enabled new potential.

Cyclades As with Crete, the provincial designation for the Cyclades has led to general assumptions about the ways the islands should have behaved that are not upheld by the archaeological data. Furthermore, it is quite difficult to ascertain which province (Achaea or Asia) various Cycladic islands belonged to at different times. This raises the question of how helpful such categorization is in advancing an understanding of the Roman provinces, as well as their relationship (or not) with Rome. In the first century bce, most of the islands except Delos and Keos were part of the province of Asia (Figure 18.2; Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, 24). This changed under Augustus,

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Figure 18.2  Map of the Cyclades, by John Wallrodt.

when many of the islands became part of Achaea, but some, perhaps including Thera, stayed with Asia (Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, E350). In 294 ce, the islands were politically unified as a provincia insularum under a praeses insularum, but even at this point Keos, Kythnos, Seriphos, Syros, Delos, and Mykonos remained part of Achaea. As with Crete, it is likely that the islands were not widely noticed by Rome unless they themselves solicited attention through provision of trade facilities or tourism, or if they were used for relegating exiles (Sweetman 2016).

Crete and the Cyclades Crete and the Cyclades were dynamic areas in the eastern Roman Empire. This liveliness has been somewhat inconspicuous, in part because of the dearth of historical sources pertaining directly to them and the sometimes problematic archaeology there. In both cases, they are further marginalized because of the historical stereotyping of Crete as a backwater and the Cyclades as isolated. Such stereotypes were perpetuated through a purported lack of Cretan participation in the imperial network and because of the infamy of certain Cycladic islands for exile (Sweetman 2016). For example, in his Satires, Juvenal (1.73) described Gyaros as a vile place and likened imprisonment to being between there and



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Seriphos (10.170). The stereotype overshadowed the diversity within Crete and the Cycladic islands and any real evidence for their active participation in the empire. Moreover, there is a tension between the administrative designation of these areas within the empire and how they actually behaved. Although Knossos was refounded as a Roman colony, there is actually little evidence to indicate any change in occupation at the time in question: excavations in the Knossos valley have, by and large, demonstrated continuous domestic settlement from the latter half of the first century bce through to the early part of the first century ce, with perhaps a small area of change in the north of the valley (Sweetman 2007). While Gortyn, the capital of the joint praetorian province of Crete and Cyrene, had many and sustained contacts with Rome, primarily through merchants (Bowsky 2002, 41), the rather noncommittal and more conservative stance of Knossos has been seen as representative of the whole island. Because Crete did not conform to the way it was expected for provinces to behave, scholars previously considered it a backwater. There was the same, somewhat flattened, view of the Cyclades: because they had little political representation, they were deemed insular, in spite of some islands, particularly Melos and Paros, having good trade and personal contacts with Rome. The aim of this chapter is to highlight the diversity of Crete and the Cyclades in the Roman period through the material remains, and to show different contacts and contributions these islands made in the wider context of the empire. Following a brief outline of the topographic and socioeconomic contexts, the archaeological analysis will focus on evidence from surveys and rescue excavations. Attention will finally turn to sites that have been the focus of good archaeological research, while highlighting issues concerning data retrieval.

Landscapes, Economies, and Communications Crete Crete is 257 km long, 62 km at its widest point, and 12 km at its narrowest. The interior of the island is largely dominated by mountains: the White Mountains in the west, Psiloritis Range in the center, and Dikteon Range in the east. Parts of the island have fertile plains of significant size – for example, the south central Mesara and Lasithi in the northeast. The island is quite well watered, and some of the rivers run all year round as a result of snowmelt from the mountains. Urban occupation continued on much as it had done in the Hellenistic period. The coastal cities were densely occupied in the Roman period, with the major cities of Knossos and Gortyn each having successful ports nearby. Inland occupation was often on hilltops at places like Aptera, Lyttos, and Lappa, although there are notable exceptions like Vizari in the Amari Valley (Figure 18.1). In their study of the Mesara, Watrous et al. (1993, 232–233) noted that the agricultural land was successfully exploited in the Roman period. Overall, the Cretans enjoyed a healthy economy based largely on agriculture – in particular, wine, as well as home industries such as beekeeping (as noted by more recent work on the Sphakia survey). Raab’s (2001) work on the Akrotiri peninsula supports this picture of lively rural occupation, but she argues that this had already been the pattern in the late Hellenistic period. Mineral deposits and ores were processed at Lasaia and Kantanos (Sanders 1982, 160, 33), and glass was manufactured at Tarrah. Murex was processed for purple dye, particularly on the south coast and on the small island of Kouphonisi (Sweetman 2013, 31), and a murex workshop was recently excavated in Chania (AR ID 2853). Fish farming is also in evidence along the south coast and at Chersonisos (Sanders 1982, 33). In all, these products are unlikely to have served more than the island’s own communities.

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Many ceramic production sites have been identified, particularly in recent urban rescue excavations such as Kisamos, Chania, and Chersonisos (Sweetman 2013, 292–293, 300– 302). It seems, however, that of the ceramics produced, only lamps and amphorae containing wine were exported (Sanders 1982, 33). Cretan wine was quite well regarded in the Roman period, and there were amphora production centers across the island at places like Kisamos, Matala, Eleutherna, and Knossos (Sweetman 2013, 31). Both Kisamos and Matala were busy ports too, which would have helped with its export. Elena Quiri’s work (2013) on the Turin assemblages has shown a rise in Cretan amphorae importation in the first half of the first century ce, indicating increased access to a wider range of networks at this point. Analysis of the ceramic data from surveys and excavations across the island suggest slight variations in preferences for imports, with most areas maintaining a strong focus on local production. Towns in the north, including Knossos and the Mirabello Bay, favored Eastern sigillatas A and B as well as African red slip and, later, Çandarli ware. In the southwest (Mesara and Sphakia regions), more Italian sigillatas and amphorae are found (Sanders 1982, 34; Sweetman 2013, 28–29). Gallimore’s (2015) study sheds light on the nature of imports to the southeast of the island. Here, a similar range to that of the north of the island is found, with the majority of imports being Eastern sigillatas A and B and some Çandarli and Italian sigillatas. Across the island, Gortyn imported the most Italian sigillata, but still Eastern sigillata B is the majority import. Forster’s study of Knossos (Coldstream, Eiring, and Forster 2001, 138) has shown that the majority of finewares imported in the early Roman period came from the East, with Çandarli almost dominating the assemblages; there was a discernable increase of Italian fineware imports for a short period in the first century ce, but by the end of the first century, evidence from the Unexplored Mansion and other excavations shows a return to fineware imports from the East (Sackett 1992, Figure 18.2). Luxury items like glass and marble were also imported, indicating a good level of economic comfort. In spite of its joint provincial status, Crete seems to have had few sustained links with Cyrenaica (Chevrollier 2016). It is clear from archaeological evidence, including epigraphic data from towns on the south coast like Lissos, Lasaea, and Gortyn, that there was a wellestablished relationship between the south coast of Crete and Rome even before the island was officially incorporated into the empire (Bowsky 2002). The same situation prevailed on many of the Cycladic islands, where inscriptions from islands like Tenos show evidence for Italian bankers and traders in residence (Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, 36). This is not true of all Crete, however, nor indeed all of the Cycladic islands, and this is one example of the diversity that often gets overlooked in the top-down approach.

Cyclades There are some thirty islands in the Cyclades that are large enough to be inhabited, the largest of which are Naxos, Paros, Andros, and Tenos, though many smaller ones like Danousa, Keros, and Irakelia were also occupied in the Roman period (Figure 18.2). The islands were largely self-sufficient, and the larger ones like Andros and Naxos had fertile soil for agriculture and wine production. Others, such as Melos and Kimolos, would have supplemented agricultural production with exploitation of natural resources (alum and chalk, respectively). Beekeeping is also likely to have featured in the economy of many of the islands; excavations at the Palaiopolis agora, Andros, produced good evidence of beehives (Palaiokrassa-Kopitsa 2012, 32). It is only in recent years that studies of specific material culture such as pottery have been undertaken on the Cyclades (see later in this chapter for more detail). Initial studies suggest that the ceramic supply pattern in the Cyclades did not differ substantially from other areas in the Aegean: finewares included African red slip, Eastern Sigillata B, some Italian, and also



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Cypriot Sigillatas. Coarsewares were generally local, but the quantitative data are lacking (Dimitris Grigoropoulos, pers. comm). There was, of course, local manufacture; Melos produced ceramics to help process and package alum, which was used for its medicinal properties, as Effie Photos-Jones’ work on Agia Kyriaki has shown (Photos-Jones et al. 1999). Furthermore, Elena Quiri (2013) has found alum amphorae from Melos in northern Italy, showing how well connected Melos was. There appears to have been an active amphora industry on Paros, as Empereur and Picon (1986) located six workshops on Paros and two on Naxos. The Parian amphora workshops continued well into the late antique period; even amphorae stamped with the emperor’s head or a cross indicated some imperial control of the market (Diamanti 2016). Other ceramic workshops on Paros are also being investigated. Analysis of lamps found in rescue excavations and at the sanctuary sites of Dionysus at Hyria and Demeter at Sangri on Naxos indicate that there were imports from Italy, the Levant, and especially from Corinth, as well as locally produced lamps – a pattern that is likely to be typical of the Cyclades (Bournias 2014). It seems that marble continued to be quarried but was exported a little more locally than in the past, in particular on Paros. Bruno’s (2010) survey has identified some new quarries, including one at Karavos. The large Cycladic islands had many such trade contacts with other islands and parts of the empire. Melos, in particular, exploited its resources and harbor facilities to maximize its connections. Additionally, both larger and smaller islands were visited by tourists and pilgrims, and were used for relegating exiles, creating different, more personal connections (Sweetman 2016).

The Archaeology of Roman Crete Long-term research excavations have been undertaken at the Roman cities of Gortyn and, to a lesser degree, Knossos. More recently, focused work on the Roman city of Eleutherna has produced exciting and contrasting results, given its inland location. In Gortyn, work has ­centered on the public areas, while the few research excavations in Knossos have been supplemented by large numbers of rescue projects (Hood and Smyth 1981). Early travelers to Crete, such as Pashley and Falkener (1854), produced invaluable work, as the remains they recorded are often no longer visible. Falkener reproduced records and drawings from Onorio Belli’s earlier work, recording Roman monuments that are no longer in good condition, such as the small and large theaters at Ierapetra and the theaters at Lyttos and Chersonisos (also being slowly documented by rescue excavations), as well as the so-called Civil Basilica at Knossos (KS 112). Otherwise, the majority of evidence for Crete in the Roman period comes from rescue excavations in ever-expanding urban areas, as well as survey work.

Rescue Excavations Rescue excavations in the towns of Kisamos, Chania, Chersonisos, and Ierapetra have given us tantalizing glimpses of the Roman cities, particularly since the 1970s (Sweetman 2013, 292–294, 300–302). Remains of houses, industrial areas, bathhouses, mosaics, and, in the case of Chersonisos, public buildings such as the theater have been revealed. The extensive rescue excavations at Kisamos have produced some stunning mosaics, including Dionysiac and other figural themes, from a two-story third century residence in the “Health Center” excavations. The Kisamos mosaics, some now in the local archaeological museum, show connections with North Africa that are not otherwise seen in Cretan mosaics (Sweetman 2013). Kisamos appears to have been a successful center for amphora production, and as with Chania, Chersonisos, and Ierapetra, it appears to have benefited greatly from its harbor facilities (Markoulaki,

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Christodoulakos, and Frangonikolaki 2004). Although great progress has been made in understanding the domestic elements of the urban space, public and religious elements still remain largely elusive, except at places with extensive programs of excavation like Gortyn.

Survey, Underwater Investigation, and Study Large numbers of archaeological surveys have been undertaken in Crete, covering significant parts of the island, particularly non-urban areas; Moody et al. (1998, 87–95, 88) offer an overview of them. Recent additions and updates to earlier work include Kavousi (Haggis 2005), Knossos (Whitelaw, Bredaki, and Vasilakis 2007), and Vrokastro (Hayden 2004). Surveys have been invaluable for understanding settlement patterns in the Roman period. For example, data from the Kavousi survey indicate that settlements grew beside fertile ground or accessible routeways rather than being determined by factors like security or religion (Haggis 2005, 86–88). Similar patterns have also been observed from the Vrokastro and Mesara surveys, and both of these also indicate occupation of the hills and ridges above the fertile area used for agriculture or timber processing. Further, the Vrokastro survey located settlements along key communication routes. Though survey of the Akrotiri peninsula reveals that its Roman settlement pattern was simply a continuation of what was already happening in the Hellenistic period, this is not the case for all areas: at Pachyamos in the east and Koleni Kamara in the west, new farmsteads that had not been features of earlier occupation were constructed in the first century ce (Sanders 1982, 30). For broader views of the use of rural areas, some industrial material has been found, particularly in the Sphakia survey (Moody et al. 1998). Large-scale villa sites were not evident until the fifth century in Crete. The data for rural occupation increase with new excavations on agricultural sites, as at Gavdos, the rural villa at Maroulas (Rethymnon) (AR ID 2791) and a farm at Vryses, which included storage and workshop areas (AR ID 2808). Crucially, these studies show that Sanders’s (1982, 30–31) hypothesis that in the third and fourth centuries Crete increasingly turned to agricultural production is likely to be true. More underwater surveys and rescue of shipwrecks in Crete and the Cyclades will in time help to fill in some of the gaps in understanding the nature of Roman trade within these areas. The Heraklion Gulf survey north of Crete (AR ID 2897) has already identified four ancient shipwrecks, the Roman one carrying first and second century Cretan amphorae. The same group also examined the Cyclades during the Phaedra 2006 project.

Gortyn Gortyn is located at the edge of the fertile Mesera plain with easy access to its port at Matala some 30 km west. Long-term excavations by the Italian School of Archaeology started with Federico Halbherr in 1898 and they have revealed large sections of the public area of the city, cemeteries (including shaft and tile graves and mausolea), small-scale industries (pottery and glass), streets, and the water supply system (Francis and Harrison 2003, 487; Sweetman 2013, Gazetteer). Publications in ASAtene and in the Gortina volumes (I–VI) appear regularly. Di Vita (2000) has published an up-to-date summary of excavations in the city, and Perna (2012) has done the same for the Acropolis. The street grid has been identified in certain locations of the city, and two aqueducts brought in water, which was then distributed through underground pipes to nymphaea and at least three bathhouses. One aqueduct was destroyed in the fourth century. Although late antique and Byzantine houses and other remains have been excavated, evidence for domestic occupation in the Roman period, primarily to the west of the Agora, has yet to be a major focus. The Roman Forum was recently identified in the southeast sector of the town, close to a substantial bathhouse; Di Vita (2000, 5) suggested that it centered on an open shrine



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(sacellum) that contained statues of the Julio-Claudian emperors. The Roman cemeteries, continuing from their Hellenistic predecessors, are located to the west, south, and east of the city and below the Acropolis, which defines its northern extent. Early excavations focused on the northern sector, revealing the odeon, theater, and the late antique church of Agios Titus. Throughout the twentieth century, work centered on the southeast sector, excavating the Temple of Apollo Pythios, Temple of Isis and Serapis, another theater, parts of a circus, amphitheater, baths, and the complex formerly known as the Praetorium. This has now been more securely identified as a gymnasium with baths, the start of the stadium, and a temple either to Divus Augustus or another temple to Egyptian gods (Di Vita 2000, 7–10). The range of religious buildings mentioned above, plus a temple to Demeter and Kore, means that Gortyn is one of the few places that has considerable evidence for cult practice in the Roman period on Crete. Gortyn flourished in the Roman period, as evidenced by its buildings and statuary, and was a fitting capital of the province. Emperors such as Tiberius and Marcus Aurelius invested in the city, and Bowsky’s (2002) analysis of its inscriptions shows the commercial and economic rather than political or military connections behind the names of many of the Roman officials from across the island.

Knossos Knossos is situated in a fertile valley with easy access to its port at Iraklion and to quarries in the surrounding hills. As with Gortyn, the cemeteries of tile and shaft graves and mausolea in the surrounding hills to the south, east, and west define the extent of Roman Knossos (Figure 18.3). Recent excavations in a cemetery in the Venizelio, north of the city, have revealed fascinating evidence for the early colony: a large first century Roman-style house tomb is inscribed with CLVATIVS and CLVATIVS C.f. CONINVS, perhaps two brothers who were early members of the colony at Knossos (AR 2003-4, 77). The tomb’s location in the north of the valley adds weight to the theory that there was a group of Italian colonists, specifically Campanians, resident in this part of Knossos: further evidence includes early black and white mosaics (such as the Apollinaris mosaic) in this area, as well as inscriptions regarding land disputes between residents and colonists, including the name Campanus (Sweetman 2003; 2007, 67 n. 47). The well-preserved Villa Dionysus (KS 114), with its polychrome and black-and-white mosaics, has provided a great deal of information regarding the diachronic occupation of the city. Discovered in 1935, its pottery and mosaics provide reasonable dating evidence. The domus, including a small peristyle court and perhaps one of the black-and-white mosaics in the north range, seems to have been constructed in the late first century ce. An enlargement of the peristyle and inclusion of more rooms with elaborate décor was undertaken in the second century (Paton 1998, 123–124). The polychrome mosaics in the Villa Dionysus are beautifully executed, some with images of Dionysus and his followers, others primarily geometric. All are revealing in terms of the functions of different rooms and the different levels of public access to the rooms around the peristyle (Sweetman 2003). Excavations for a new roof over the domus in the 1990s revealed another polychrome mosaic, and it is likely that the Villa Dionysus was just one small part of a substantial residential area (Paton 2004). Unlike Gortyn, little is known about public space at Knossos (Figure 18.3). A likely theater or circus has been identified in the north of the valley, now only identified by the bend in the Knossos-Heraklion road (KS 110); a civil basilica (KS 112) has been identified from geophysical data, though further work is needed to clarify its plan and function (AR 1991-2, 59–60). As part of the Knossos 2000 excavations, two bathhouses to the southeast and further south of the Villa Dionysus, close to what is likely to be the public core of the Roman city, were investigated (Sweetman 2013, 303–304). Both had mosaics, and the smaller, more southern one may have been a private bathhouse.

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Figure 18.3  Archaeological Survey Plan of Knossos, from Hood and Smyth 1981.

To the west, excavations at the Unexplored Mansion (KS 186) have been fundamental in elucidating ceramic sequences, as well as providing good evidence for home industries and daily life (Sackett 1992). Rescue excavations nearby have revealed remains of houses, bathhouses, roads, and small-scale industries, and those elsewhere in the city, particularly close to the modern village of Knossos, have revealed vast quantities of material illuminating the city’s layout. Beyond excavation of the Sanctuary of Demeter (KS 286), very little is known about religious architecture or practice in Roman Knossos (Coldstream 1973), but Bowsky (2006, 403, 397) has tentatively identified a cult of Isis at the Demeter Sanctuary and a cult of Castor and Pollux at the Glaukos Shrine.



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Lissos The harbor town of Lissos, on a sheltered cove in the southwest, shows tantalizing remains of the Roman town. Although the vast majority of the city has yet to be revealed, recent work has focused on the cemetery and its tombs, mostly of single-vault type with internal niches, but with three examples of two-storied tombs (AR 1997/98, 126–127), types also found at Isola Sacra in Ostia and in Cilicia. Such tombs are also found at nearby Lasaia, which was surveyed in the 1970s (Blackman and Branigan 1975, 23–32). Their presence likely reflects Lissos’s and Lasaia’s participation in east-west trade between Rome and Egypt. Lissos’s international connections are bourne out by a largely black-and-white mosaic, of a type more commonly found in the West, in its small temple to Asklepius (Sweetman 2013, 247–248, 305). Farther along the south coast, similar connections are shown by black-and-white mosaics found in Myrtos and Makrigialos, as well as an impluvium house at Makrigialos (Sweetman 2013, 206–209).

Other Cities Some inland cities are fortunate enough to not have modern development on top of them, and have been the focus of regular research excavations. Key examples are Lyttos and Eleutherna (Sweetman 2013, 305, 294). Work at the hill of Prinas in Eleutherna in central Crete has revealed houses, workshops, bathhouses, roads and other buildings, though less is known about the city’s public areas (Themelis 2003). In the East at Lyttos, a theater identified by Belli is no longer visible (Falkener 1854), though cemeteries and the remains of an aqueduct were investigated before excavations recommenced in the 1980s, and shops, workshops, and large buildings (possible a prytaneion or bouleterion) have been identified (AR 1983/84, 64–65). The Acropolis site of Aptera has revealed graves (AR ID 3584), bathhouses, a peristyle house, and a sanctuary (AR ID 1870), as well as its well-known theater and immense cisterns. The city of Lappa, restored by Augustus after its destruction in the first century bce, is overlain by the modern town of Argyroupoli south of Rethynmnon, but rescue excavations and spolia in modern buildings revealed a bathhouse, mosaics, a public building close to the river, and a Roman cemetery on the hillside (Sweetman 2013, 305). The archaeology of Roman Crete reveals diverse and vibrant settlements that made the most of the island’s location on trade routes, particularly in the first and second centuries. Mosaics, sculptures, and imported material attest to regular investment and a strong economy across the island. Inscriptions indicate that the province was administered in an official capacity, but with the impact of the island’s inclusion in the empire seen primarily in the thriving economy by the end of the first century ce.

The Archaeology of the Roman Cyclades As with Crete, research on the Cyclades in the Roman period is increasing, in part due to rescue excavations, largely focused on urban contexts and on the islands Naxos, Paros, and Syros. Additionally, research excavations have been undertaken at multiphase sites with Roman period occupation (e.g., the acropolis city of Thera on Santorini, Palaiopolis on Andros, and to a lesser extent the ancient town of Tramythia/Klima on Melos). Although surveys have been undertaken on Keos, Melos, and Paros, data on rural occupation, rural religion, roads, and other infrastructure are even fewer that those of Crete. Wide-ranging studies of the Roman period Cyclades include the fundamental work of Mendoni and Zoumbaki (2008) on the epigraphic evidence, and Le Quéré’s 2015

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publication should also prove invaluable. Nonetheless, islands like Anafi, Antimilos, and even quite large ones like Ios and Siphnos are still relatively unknown for the Roman period, though some facts may be pieced together from rescue excavation data, e.g., evidence for murex production at Anafi (AR ID 560). Hellenistic and Roman remains were identified at Pounta, Managari, and Mylopotamos on Ios (AR 1981/82, 46), and on Siphnos a Roman bathhouse with mosaics was excavated below the modern village of Chora (AR 2001–2004, 13). Some of the smaller islands, such as Danousa, Folegandros, Sikinos, Gyaros, and Seriphos, are historically documented as places of exile.

Rescue Excavations As with many rescue excavations, the greater part of the Roman finds consists of houses, bathhouses, and mosaics (e.g., on Naxos and Paros). The range of data from the Roman period is increasing with recent work on kilns and workshops in Chora on Naxos (AR 1999/2000). On Amorgos, excavations at Katapola have revealed a Roman villa with mosaics (AR ID 1335) as well as industrial areas (AR ID 3300), while those at Minoa have shown that it was continuously occupied until the third century, with various houses and industrial features, a theater, a gymnasium, and a Temple of Serapis that probably continued into the imperial period, as well as small finds like seals (AR 2001/02, 100; AR 1989/90, 69–70; AR 1999, 146). Rescue excavations also indicate occupation on islands otherwise not well attested. For example, at Kimolos a settlement dating to the Hellenistic and Roman periods was investigated, and in the harbor at Mykonos two Roman shipwrecks were identified.

Survey, Underwater Investigation and Study Though the Melos survey (Renfrew and Wagstaff 1982) focused on sites associated with alum processing (Photos-Jones et al. 1999), it also provided a broad view of the Roman occupation, from public (theater, baths, and gymnasia) to private buildings, industry, and graves. The island of Keos was surveyed in the 1980s, and an Irish team has returned to test the results. The Paros survey has identified further marble quarries (Bruno 2010), and that at Keros has been producing exciting data on the Roman period, including widespread occupation and pottery imports from North Africa and the eastern Mediterranean (AR ID 2906, 4284). Increasingly systematized underwater surveys are shedding light on the nature of trade – for example off the coast at Polyaigos, where Carystos marble and amphorae were found (AR ID 544, 1350). The underwater survey near Makronisos (AR ID 2895) has revealed one wreck containing fourth century amphorae from Sicily and North Africa and another containing building materials (tile and brick) from earlier in the Roman period. The Kythnos underwater project (AR ID 840) undertook excavations in the Roman harbor at Mandraki, revealing Roman amphorae, lead fishing weights, and the torso of a male statue reused in the west extension of the harbor wall.

Melos The Aphrodite of Melos, sold to the French in the 1820s, was said to have come from modern Trypiti, below which is Tramythia, one of the first Roman period urban sites in the Cyclades to be investigated. Here and at the port below, Klima, excavations by the British School at Athens in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century revealed a wealth of Roman material, including a theater (Figure 18.4), catacombs, and the so-called Hall of the Mystae, containing an inscribed mosaic as well as sculpture (Smith 1895/96). The British



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Figure 18.4  Melos, Tramythia, Theater. Photo by Rebecca J. Sweetman.

School at Athens also undertook survey here in the 1970s–1980s, but still more detailed work would be of great value. The city walls, agora, theater, and stadium with their associated mosaics and sculpture indicate it was a town of some substance. Harbor installations were excavated at Klima (Smith 1895/96), and it is likely that others will be recovered at Palaiochori (ancient Zephiri). It was through these small ports around the island that Melians engineered connections to larger networks and maximized trade for a range of seasons and weather conditions. The significant amount of archaeological material produced by excavation and survey on Melos provides a small glimpse of the potential for further work on the island (Renfrew and Wagstaff 1982).

Santorini Though the Bronze Age has been the focus of work on Santorini, the acropolis city of Thera and its harbor below were densely occupied in the Hellenistic and Roman periods. In the early imperial period, Thera belonged to the province of Asia; a study of the onomastics indicates good connections with Ephesus, which is also reflected in its Agora and Stoa Basilica (Le Quéré 2011, 341). Although, like many of the Cycladic islands, Thera had little official representation in Rome, the position of high priest of Asia was held by Therans, and the Proconsul of Asia in 160/161, P. Mummius Sisenna Rutilianus, is mentioned in an inscription there (ILS 1101). Expansion and investment in the city in the Roman period included extending the Agora north, rebuilding the Theater, and constructing a gymnasium and two sets of public baths. The Stoa Basilica, originally Augustan, was repaired by Tiberius Flavius Kleitosthenes Claudianus in the second century; he added a plinth for statues of the imperial family, including Faustina the Elder, Marcus Aurelius, and Lucius Verus. The Agora (Figure 18.5) comprised three main spaces where the city honored key citizens, such as a mother and daughter, both

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Figure 18.5  Santorini, Thera, South Agora and Stoa. Photo by Rebecca J. Sweetman.

named Archis, with statues. Though the city’s Ptolemaion seems to have been converted into a temple of the imperial cult after the Battle of Actium, the Temple of the Egyptian gods continued in use, as did worship of Herakles and Hermes at the gymnasium. The Temple of Pythian Apollo was later converted into a church. Many peristyle houses have been excavated, and were repaired and maintained in Roman times, while cemeteries of the period extended down the slopes of the Acropolis.

Andros Andros was a flourishing island with good marble and wood resources as well as fertile land, renowned for its Sanctuary of Dionysus, whose spring flowed with wine once a year, according to Pliny the Elder (Natural History 2.231). Although Glitius Gallus and Egnatia Maximilla were exiled to Andros under Nero, the Andrians set up monuments to the couple as ­benefactors (Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, 30). The extensive urban site of Palaiopolis on the west coast has been the focus of ongoing excavations and research (Palaiokrassa-Kopitsa 2012). The town had flourished in Archaic times, and was again the focus of investment throughout the Roman period. Hellenistic and Roman walls surrounded the city, along the slopes of the Acropolis to the north and down to the harbor in the south. Like many other buildings, the city walls were built of the local schist, in distinctive rectangular blocks, and were repaired in the Roman period. Cemeteries have been identified around the edges of the town. A Roman bathhouse has been uncovered near the Agora, and a theater, gymnasium, and Temple of Apollo have also been identified. More recent excavations, primarily at Palaiopolis, have revealed vast mosaics, a cistern, and a late antique church with mosaics (AR 2003/04, 68; AR 2006/07, 82). The Agora, defined by its stoas, marks the location of the public area, close to the harbor at the east side of the city. Palaiokrassa-Kopitsa (2012) has done significant analysis of the



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Agora and its Sanctuary of Zeus, and suggested that its Macellum, dedicated to (as restored) Antoninus Pius and Marcus Aurelius, was constructed in the second century. There were also at least eight statue bases to Hadrian, likely an attempt to gain imperial attention. Other nonlocal benefactors included the evocatus Augusti M. Aurelius Rufinus, who donated to the cult of Mithras in 200 ce. Though a Temple of Mithras at Andros is only attested through such epigraphic data, an inscription from Palaiopolis shows how military service led to initiation (Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, 28, 30). As with Melos and Thera, fine sculptures have been discovered on Andros, particularly at Palaiopolis, which produced various portrait statues, a Matron of Herculaneum, and a Hermes Psychopompos (Trimble 2011, nos. 14–17). Recent rescue excavations at Virokastro, Peristerionas and Kolymbos have also revealed Roman occupation (AR 2006/07, 82; 1999/2000, 115, 114). Quarries at Kato Phello and a nearby Roman settlement have been investigated (AR 1999/2000, 115). At Tourlos, a Roman grave and sarcophagus have been excavated (AR 2001/02, 95, 116), and there is also ongoing work at the harbor (AR 2007/08, 88). Although Andros appears to have been quite well integrated into the Mediterranean network through tourism and exile, there was a limit to the economic benefit of this. For example, Mendoni and Zoumbaki (2008, 35) note that, as on other comparatively wealthy islands like Tenos and Syros, civic offices such as that of stephanephoros had to be taken repeatedly by the same citizens, as there were not enough qualified Andrians to alternate in office.

Contacts and Networks While urbanism on other Cycladic islands in the Roman period is less known, data are coming in from ongoing work at Divouni (Mykonos), Rizokastelia (Naxos), Paroikia (Paros), and Tenos, and there is already enough to highlight the importance of the islands in terms of tourism, pilgrimage and exile. Touristic connections were of course rather temporary, while trade networks like that of Melos had more impact. For example, Sextus Pompeius holidayed on Keos on the way to take up the governorship of Asia in 27 ce (Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, 26). Florus, an author and historian under Hadrian, also visited the Cyclades. Cicero is perhaps the most prominent, having toured the Cyclades on his way to take up his governorship in Cilicia in 51 bce. Some suggest that his visits to Keos, Gyaros, Syros, and Delos were planned events, though others attribute them to weather conditions (Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, 26). Prominent tourist sites in the Roman period included tombs and sanctuaries known for miracles and/or festivals. Both the tomb of Homer on Ios and the tomb of Archilochos on Paros were renowned. Paros also had the (excavated) temples of Asklepius and Delian Apollo near Paroikia to attract foreign visitors and investors. Although Strabo (Geography 10.5.11) stated that Tenos did not have a major city, he still noted its Sanctuary of Poseidon with its banquet halls, and inscriptions indicate that there was plenty of investment on the island, particularly at the Sanctuary of Poseidon and Amphritrite, whose Poseidia festival was a big attraction. Augustus and Tiberius were particularly interested in this sanctuary, with Tiberius giving it the honor of asylia. Other notable benefactors included P. Quinctilius Varus as quaestor and friend of Augustus, and Iunia Torquata and her brother C. Iunius Silanus (Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, 28–29). Additionally, P. Serveilius P. f. Isauricus, proconsul of Asia 46–44 bce, restored some sculptural complexes that had been dedicated by C. Pandusinus Cn. f. in about 100 bce (Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, 36). Excavations at this site, near Kioni, were undertaken at various times in the twentieth century by the French School of Archaeology, who uncovered the foundation of the temple and revealed the long-term use of the site, including statues of Trajan and Hadrian, and the construction of a late antique church (Dumoulin 1902, 399–439).

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Some sanctuaries attested through literary or epigraphic sources have not yet been physically located, (like that of Mithras on Andros), but a wealth of others with clear evidence for use in the Roman period have been the focus of archaeological investigation and study. For example, excavations by Vassilis Lambrinoudakis have shown that the time-honored Sanctuary of Dionysus on Naxos was enlarged during the Roman period. The fascinating Sanctuary of Artemis and Apollo on Despotiko was also in use in those times (AR 2007/08). Although epigraphic and literary evidence attests to public banquets on Syros that attracted Italian and other foreign participants, archaeological data from that island are still quite limited, in part because of modern industry. There is also epigraphic evidence for public banquets on Andros (above), Thera, and at Aegiale on Amorgos (Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, 37 n. 55). Both large and small islands were used for exile: Seriphos and Gyaros were considered particularly awful, but Naxos and Andros were not so isolated and barren (Braginton 1944). Some exiles left their mark on the island through patronage and other contributions: as already seen, Glitius Gallus and Egnatia Maximilla were honored on Andros, and Musonius Rufus helped improve Gyaros by discovering a new water source, and because many people came to see him there (Philostratus, Life of Apollonius 7.16).

Crete and the Cyclades in Mediterranean Networks Material culture (pottery, marble, mosaics, and houses) on Crete illustrates network connections that were engineered by Cretans and non-Cretans to make the most of trade. Diversity within, and subsequent change on, the island can be explained through the impact of such connections. Analysis of the Cyclades has shown how personal experiences, such as exile and tourism, created temporary connections, some with a lasting physical effect. But the islands were not a monolithic group; while some may have taken advantage of opportunities to connect, others may not, and here problems about the concept of “province” arise.

Crete within the Roman Empire Crete was at the crossing of north-south trade links among Egypt, Cyrenaica, and other areas of the Mediterranean, as well as links between the eastern and western provinces (Braudel 1972, 103). Prevailing winds meant that one usually had to land on Crete at some point when traveling east–west. Nonetheless, in the first century of Roman rule there appears to have little or no impact of being part of the empire on the northern cities of Crete (Chania, Knossos, Chersonisos). In fact, there was little impact on the towns of the south coast, either, with the exception of Gortyn. Onomastic evidence, however, shows that some Italian traders based themselves in Crete and on Delos. Towns on the south, such as Lissos, Lebena, and Makrighialos, had enduring trade connections with Rome, and their black-and-white mosaics, single-vaulted tombs and impluvium houses indicate the possibility of western traders living there (Sweetman 2013). At Gortyn, the capital, the impact of the network is clearly seen in the mosaics, public buildings, and other investments in the city. In the north, at Knossos, though inscriptions make it clear that it was officially a colony, there is little or no archaeological evidence of significant change in the city until the mid- to late first century (Sweetman 2013). Present evidence indicates that there was a new Forum established at Gortyn, separated from the Agora by the Odeon in the north of the city. It is difficult to establish a general island-wide pattern for the relationship between existing agorai and fora, largely because the evidence for either is so scant in most Cretan cities. At Knossos the Agora is only assumed to be in the area of the so-called Civil Basilica (Hood and Smyth 1981, 20). In Kisamos a possible agora was



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identified in the east of the city during rescue excavations, and at Chersonisos the Agora is presumed to be in the west, close to the Theater (Sweetman 2013 300, 100). At Chania, a possible Hellenistic and Roman agora was identified during the preparations for the municipal car park (Sweetman 2013, 292). For the most part in Crete, with the exception of Gortyn, this would support a continuation of urban topography even after the island became a province of the empire (Le Quéré 2011). It has been argued that the change in the late first century was a result of intentional moves, either on the part of Cretans or Romans, to exploit the potential of the northern ports for trade: across the north coast of the island, from Kisamos to Chersonisos to Agios Nikolaos, investment was made in houses, mosaics, public buildings, and other amenities. Chania, Chersonisos, and particularly Kisamos seem to have developed their own trade links. The southern coastal towns and Gortyn already had established trade contacts, regardless of the official designation of the island as a province, and when those in the north become more fully integrated, later in the Julio-Claudian period, it was likely the result of processes that were mutually beneficial to Crete and the Romans. There is also evidence to indicate that trade took advantage of the 12 km overland route between Ierapetra on the south and the Bay of Mirabello on the north, where remains of storage facilities at Tholos indicate that it may have been used as an entrepôt (Sanders 1982; Sweetman 2013). The presence of marble and other luxury items in unexpected inland areas might also be explained through the use of the island as an entrepôt (Sweetman 2013, 149). Like other areas of the Aegean, Crete appears to have prospered in the second century, with numerous houses, mosaic floors, and active trade and industry. By the third century, cities like Kisamos and Chersonisos were still booming, and although fourth century material is still difficult to define with precision, revisions of pottery chronologies should show that towns like Kisamos, Chersonisos, and Knossos continued to be occupied (Sweetman 2013). Inscriptions show significant movement between Cretan towns, particularly Gortyn. The vibrancy of the island is evident in the movement of people and material from external and internal origins throughout the Roman period. By the second century, Crete seems to have been a hub in the Roman network, circulating goods and ideas. Contrary to traditional views which see it as a depressing time of cultural oppression, the Roman period should be viewed as a success for Crete as an active player.

The Cyclades within the Roman Empire The same problem of reputation outweighing actuality can be seen in the case of the Roman Cyclades, often written off as an undifferentiated group of places, deemed inaccessible because of their use as places of exile. Many towns of Crete chose to be connected to the wider Roman imperial network through trade, but with the exception of Melos and to a lesser degree Andros and Naxos, the Cycladic islands did not have as many trade connections as Crete, though they certainly had some through pilgrimage, tourism, and exile. Delos was already a hub in the Mediterranean trade network in the Hellenistic period, and islands like Tenos, Paros, and Naxos benefited from their proximity to it through phase transition. Inscriptions record Roman bankers and proxenoi and, on Tenos, an Italian community in the first century bce (Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, 36). Delos’ destruction in 88 bce, however, caused a ripple effect on the nearby islands, and many never recovered to their previous high levels of trade and production. Although they may not have been able to compete in trade resources, many remained networked through tourism and, to a degree, exile. Where trade declined for some islands, others seem to have done all they could to attract it. Melos went out of its way to exploit its resources (e.g., alum) and provide strategic

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harbors, and it seems to have done exceptionally well in the Roman period (Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, 40). The mosaics, sculpture, and other remains at Tramythia show the return the Melians got on their investment in being part of the network. Some Melians grew quite wealthy: Ti. Claudius Frontonianus became a Roman eques (Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, 3). Only one other Cycladic eques is known, T. Flavius Cleitosthenes from Thera; in both cases, their wealth may have been partly due to their connections with Achaea and Asia Minor. The activities on Melos may have created a minor ripple effect on Kimolos, enabling the exploitation of Kimolian chalk; a Hellenistic to Roman settlement has recently been identified in the south of that island (AR 2001/02, 99). It seems that at least some of the Cyclades, like Melos, had sustained contact with Rome, in part due to trade and exploitation of resources, but also through other contacts. Onomastic data suggest that tax collectors and merchants were regular visitors to the islands Tenos, Andros, and Melos; for example, M. Cosconius M.F. Poll. Fronto, procurator ad vectig(al) XX her(editatium) per Asiam, Lyciam, Phrygiam, Galatiam, insulas Cycladas, was a second century inheritance tax collector for the Cyclades, among other places (Mendoni and Zoumbaki 2008, 27–28). Although Paros and Naxos had amphora production sites, their products may have stayed reasonably local to the Cyclades. Parian marble continued to be exported, but not on the scale that it had been in the past. Le Quéré’s 2011 study of the Roman agoras of the Cyclades (particularly Andros, Melos, and Thera) indicates positive investments rather than any sign of decline, and notes that investment made in the agoras was often by the local elite and, later in the second century, sometimes by the imperial family. Although there were adaptations (e.g., the inclusion of the imperial cult in some cases), the form of the agora remained traditional in terms of its use of stoas and often a monumental entrance, features seen more commonly in Asia Minor than the West. Furthermore, Le Quéré suggests that the architecture of the Agora at Thera (Figure 18.5) may have been directly related to that of Ephesus. This would make sense, given the different provinces (Achaea, Asia) to which Cycladic islands were assigned. The Cyclades, like Crete, showed peaks in production and occupation in the second century; this is also reflected in a re-embellishment of many of the agoras, according to Le Quéré (2011). Mendoni and Zoumbaki (2008, 34) suggest that by the end of that century there was more need for investment in public buildings by private individuals, which may also indicate increasing personal wealth of those involved in the Cyclades. Archaeological evidence for the third and fourth centuries is scanty but increasing, particularly with surveys and work at sites like Palaiopolis, Andros (Palaiokrassa-Kopitsa 2012, 29). It is notable, however, that some of the earliest churches in the Greek provinces are constructed on the islands with evidence for the early establishment of bishoprics (e.g., Thera in 342 ce). There are at least five churches at Palaiopolis on Andros and most of the islands already have evidence for churches; more recent ones have been identified at Keros, Amorgos, and Siphnos (AR ID 2906, 3301, 3249). It is clear from the archaeological evidence that many of the Cycladic islands were far from isolated places suitable only for exile. While the larger islands used for exile like Andros and Naxos were obviously not remote, the material evidence from others such as Kythnos and Amorgos is increasingly indicative of more dynamic contacts than believed.

Conclusion While being part of a province may have made it easier to take advantage of the empire’s network, it did not automatically mean that connections would be sustainable or successful. The differences between the north and south of Crete when it first became part of the empire are striking. Adding to the evidence for diversity is the fact that the island seems to have had



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little in common with its provincial partner, Cyrene. The same diversity is seen in the Cycladic islands: here too, provincial labels that glibly imply inferiority are misleading. The islands of the Cyclades had different types of contact with the main centers of the Roman Empire; personal or business, direct or indirect, planned or accidental. The islands’ named citizens may not have been great politicians but they do show good evidence for sustained relationships with merchants, exiles, and tourists. Recognition of the diversity within Crete and the Cyclades enables us to see different levels of active choice and, in some cases, passive participation in the Roman network, regardless of o ­ fficial designations or stereotypes. Scholarship on Roman Crete in the last few decades has done much to change the outdated views of the island, to the point where its key role in the imperial network is now quite well understood. The application of network analysis and globalization studies show that diverse parts of the island had different (or limited) functions in the empire at various times, while still being part of the same province (Sweetman 2013, 148–150). When the evidence is examined in more detail, it is clear that while certain parts of Crete were active players in the Roman imperial network during the Augustan period (which in a sense was just carrying on from preconquest), other parts took nearly a century to catch up. More work needs to be done on the Cyclades, to explore in detail the variety of roles different islands played in the empire over time, in addition to the complexity of relationships that Crete and the Cyclades had among themselves and with other provinces.

Biographical Note Rebecca Sweetman is a professor of Ancient History and Archaeology in the School of Classics, University of St. Andrews. Her research focuses on Roman and late antique Greece and she has recently published The Mosaics of Roman Crete (Cambridge 2013) and “Memory, Tradition, and Christianization of the Peloponnese” (American Journal of Archaeology 120, no. 4 [2015], 501–531).

Abbreviations AR = “Archaeology in Greece,” Archaeological Report, Journal of Hellenic Studies AR ID = Archaeology in Greece online. http://chronique.efa.gr/index.php/fiches/search ILS = Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae. 1954-1955. Edited by Hermann Dessau. Berlin: Weidmann. KS = Hood, Sinclair, and David Smyth.1981. Archaeological Survey of the Knossos Area. British School at Athens Supplementary Volume 14. London: British School at Athens.

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CHAPTER 19

Thrace Ivo Topalilov

Historical Background It was not until the second half of the second century bce that the Romans were permanently established on Thracian soil by controlling the Thracian Chersonese and by the construction of a military road, the Via Egnatia. This caused anti-Roman tendencies, which were not new among some of the Thracian tribes but increased during the Mithridatic wars (Cicero, Against Piso 84; Orosius 5.18.30; Diodorus 37.5a). As a result, a military campaign was launched in Thrace in 72/71 bce by the proconsul of Macedonia, M. Terentius Varro Lucullus, in which all major urban centers were captured: Uscudama, Philippopolis, Cabyle, and Apollonia (Figure 19.1). Within the next ten years, however, the Romans lost all that they had achieved in Thrace (Tacheva 2004, 15–20; Delev 2015). In a typical response, they created a “client” kingdom under Sapaean kings (replacing the old Odrysian-Astean house) to provide troops and ultimately to control the other Thracian tribes (Delev 2014, 425; Parissaki 2012, 505– 509). Roman control was firmly established by a praetor who resided in Philippopolis and interfered with the inner affairs of the kingdom directly. After the Thracians revolted against their dynast and then king Rhoemetalces II in 21 and 26, and in 44 ce against king Rhoemetalces III, the Romans realized that the client kingdom was no longer useful; using a coup d’ état in 45/46 ce, they sent three legions, put an end to the kingdom, and turned it into the Roman province of Thracia in 46 ce (EusebiusHieronymus, Chronicle 262.12; Cassiodorus, Chronicles 137). The new province held no legions, only a garrison of 2000 soldiers (Josephus, Jewish War 2.16.4), and was governed by a procurator Augusti of equestrian rank who resided in Perinthos. It belonged among the Greek-speaking provinces, although official inscriptions are in Latin. Not much changed initially and the inherited administrative divisions, strategiai, continued in use (Parissaki 2009). The newly created province, however, was not much urbanized: a developed urban system existed mainly on the West Pontic, Marmara, and Aegean coasts, with a few cities – Philippopolis, Uscudama, and Bizye – inland. To establish control over Bizye and the eastern part of Thrace as well as the Via Egnatia, a colonia Claudia Aprensis (Apri) was founded soon after the province was created. A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 1, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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Figure 19.1  Map of Roman Thrace, showing major cities, towns and roads; Roman names in all capitals. By John Wallrodt, from Ivanov 2012, map 1.

The political and economic integration of the province into the Roman Empire began in the Flavian era. A telling sign of this is the 70 ce foundation of colonia Flavia Pacis Deultensium (Deultum, modern Debelt), named in honor of Vespasian’s restoration of peace, and probably settled with several hundred veterans from legio VIII Augusta. In this process, the municipal and provincial elites were changed to some degree by Roman veterans moving into the main urban settlements, near major roads, quarries, mines, and in rural areas, as well as by the Romanization of the Thracian aristocracy. Initially, Thrace was not integrated into Roman monetary policy, which required tax reform. As noted, the old system of strategiai was preserved as the only way to enlist troops, as well as collect taxes. Under Claudius, there were at least thirty-three strategiai (IAeg E 84; IGBulg 1.677), later expanded to fifty (Pliny the Elder, Natural History 4.11.40). It seems, however, that this was not enough, and the “League of the Thracians” (koinon ton Thrakion) was established in the time of Domitian (Sharankov 2005, 60) or Trajan (Lozanov 2015, 82). Among the tasks of the koinon was the celebration of the imperial cult as well as tax collection (Topalilov 2007). The koinon met in Philippopolis, which received the title metropolis



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(Sharankov 2005). But apparently that city lost its rank due to Domitian’s death and condemnation of memory, and under Nerva, Perinthos took over as metropolis (Topalilov 2018). Philippopolis regained its status in the early years of Trajan and, accordingly, statues were set up in the theater of Philippopolis celebrating homonoia (concord) between Philippopolis and Perinthos (Sharankov 2005, 58–60; Topalilov 2018). The koinon was led by a Thracarch, similar to the Bithyniarch in Bithynia. The Thracarch himself was generally a member of the provincial elite, whether Thracian or Greek in origin, and had Roman citizenship; at least one was a senator, while two were equestrians (Sharankov 2007). The aforementioned Flavian reforms that integrated the new province into the Roman Empire were completed by 110–112 ce, in the time of Trajan, when the province was promoted in status and therefore governed by a legatus Augusti pro praetore (Poulter 1995, 10). Local affairs were kept in the hands of local elites and urban life flourished, with new cities founded inland; the new foundations caused the eventual abandonment of the system of strategiai and a reorganization of administrative territories, which led to some territorial disputes (e.g., between Topeiros and Abdera). The new cities as well as the extant Greek colonies on the Aegean and western Black Sea coasts became civitates stipendiariae (taxpaying communities), each governed by its own “council and people” (boule kai demos) and divided into phylai, which could also possess agricultural lands outside the city. This is attested both archaeologically and numismatically, as most of the cities minted bronze civic coinage in the time of Hadrian and Antoninus Pius, when the transformation was completed. Many new cities were given imperial names (like Plotinopolis, Marcianopolis, Traianopolis, and Augusta Traiana) or were named to commemorate an event (like Nicopolis ad Istrum). Some, however, preserved their old names (Pautalia and Serdica). Hadrian’s visits in 124 and 131 ce had a major impact on provincial life, as shown in various ways, including the foundation of Hadrianopolis (Malalas, Chronicle 11.20). In his later visit, part of the northern provincial border changed, and the municipium Montanensium shifted from Thrace to Lower Moesia. Cities also flourished under Antonius Pius, when the Hadrianic initiatives were completed, and Commodus, when civic coins commemorated imperial agonistic festivals organized in some cities in Thrace. In 193–194 Thrace became the arena of a fight for rule over the empire between Septimius Severus and Pescennius Niger. Byzantium stood with Niger, while Severus was stationed in Perinthos, so when Severus won, he deprived Byzantium of civic status and lowered it to a village. For the other cities, however, the presence of Severus, Caracalla, Geta, Julia Domna, and later Elagabalus fostered a second flourishing, and Perinthos and Philippopolis each received the title neokoros (Burrell 2004). This prosperity lasted until the 230s, when great barbarian hordes began to invade the Balkans and Thrace and devastated the local communities both demographically and economically; for example, in 250 the Goths seized Philippopolis. The abandonment of the Dacian provinces under Aurelian (270–275 ce) caused a territorial reorganization of western Thrace: Serdica and Pautalia shifted to the newly founded province of Dacia Mediterranea, with Serdica as capital. With the administrative reforms of Diocletian, the rest of the territory of the previous province Thrace was divided into the new provinces Thracia, Rhodope, Haemimontus, and Europa, now part of the diocese of Thrace (Dumanov 2015, 92). A turning point in the development of Thracian society in every aspect, political, religious, and economic, was Constantine’s foundation of Constantinople on May 11, 330, especially after Theodosius I settled there and made it the imperial and dynastic city. Thrace was closely tied to Constantinople, and events in the capital directly echoed around Thrace. Though Thrace was now more important, from the fourth to the beginning of the seventh centuries it was the arena of some of the most devastating barbarian raids on the empire, which eventually led to its gradual abandonment in the time of Heraclius (610–641).

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Geography The territory of the province Thracia is characterized by great diversity of terrain, alternating between fertile plains with major rivers and huge mountains (Figure 19.1). The Rhodope Mountains and Balkan range (Haemus mons) divided the territory into three parts: the Hebros River valley, which was the geographical core of the province; Aegean Thrace; and the land north of Haemus. Other major rivers were the Tonzos, Strymon, Nestos, and Artescos, all mentioned in ancient sources and personified on bronze civic coins (Mihailov 2015, 91–120). In some cases, the provincial border followed the major geographical features, though in some parts the border is uncertain. Through textual sources such as Pliny (Natural History  4.40–41), the Tabula Peutingeriana (section 7), and especially Claudius Ptolemaeus’s Geographiy (3.11), as well as inscriptions, we can trace the province’s borders in general, but also locate the major civic centers, their territories, the pre-Roman strategiai, and the main road network with its small towns and road stations such as Oualla, Presidium, and others. The province bordered Moesia Superior on the northwest and Moesia Inferior on the north, and included the northern outskirts of the Haemus mountain range. It seems that Thrace initially included Montana and Abritus. At Marcianopolis, the border turned abruptly south and reached Anchialos, where the province faced the Black Sea on the east and the Sea of Marmara on the south; it did not include the Thracian Chersonese, which remained under direct imperial control. To the west, Thrace was confined by the Nestos River and included the whole Rhodope mountain range and modern Rila (ancient Scombros?) up to the upper Strymon River and the Haemus range bordering Macedonia (Gerov 1979, 212–240; Tacheva 2004, 28–31). Late in Hadrian’s reign, the northern border of Thrace was shifted south to strengthen the Danubian limes by incorporating regio Montanensis, municipium Montanensium, and then, if ever, Abritus, into Moesia Inferior. Due to an invasion by the Costoboci ca. 170–171, the border again shifted south for similar reasons, reaching the Haemus range probably in 193 or soon after; Nicopolis ad Istrum and Marcianopolis joined Moesia Inferior, while Mesembria went to Thrace as compensation. As mentioned, at Rome’s withdrawal from trans-Danubian Dacia, Thrace’s western territory was absorbed by Dacia Mediterranea, with its capital Serdica. When Diocletian divided the province into four, the new Thracia was comprised of a few cities and their territories, such as Philippopolis (its capital), Augusta Traiana, and Diocletianopolis (modern Hissarja).

Roads and Bridges One of the first and most essential tasks of the Roman administration after the establishment (and taxation) of the new province was the construction and expansion of an extensive network of paved military roadways (Figure 19.1). This enabled Roman legions to be deployed against the indigenous population, in this case, the troublesome Thracian tribes, especially in the mountains. But Thrace’s location on the shortest route between Rome and the East made it a vital part of Rome’s imperial policies and strategies, so construction on and around its primary imperial roads, the Via Egnatia, Via Diagonalis, and Via Pontica, was a first priority. Four identical Neronian inscriptions (AE 1991, 1407; CIL 3.6123; AE 1912, 193; IGBulg 5.5691) document construction of tabernae and praetoria along these and the secondary roads, including those from Oescus to Philippopolis, and one from the



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Rhodope mountains to the Via Egnatia, but also from Durostorum to Marcianopolis and Anchialus, among others. Some paved roadways are visible today, and literary sources also provide information about them. Most were built over pre-Roman roads; initially the Romans preferred routes that ran in relatively straight lines, though later roadways depended on the topographical specifics of the terrain (Madzharov 2009). The initial military purpose of the road system was modified in the first half of the second century, after the Trajanic urbanization, as discussed below. A new network of internal roads linked the major cities and provided access to the imperial roads, important commercial centers, ports, and mines. In the mountains, however, the roads kept their strict military character, especially in the Haemus range, where fortified praesidia, burgi, and turres were constructed. There and in the Rhodope Mountains, Roman bridges are still preserved, and some were used extensively until the middle of the twentieth century. Roads also reflected economic development. Under Marcus Aurelius, they underwent repair and reconstruction, with the addition of stabula (lodging complexes), tabernae, and repair workshops. In some cases, baths were added, and some of these complexes have been studied archaeologically (Madzharov 2009, with bibliography). The main periods of road maintenance were under Nero, Antoninus Pius, Marcus Aurelius, and Aurelian. In the time of Diocletian and Constantine, a vast program of road reconstruction, building of roadside fortifications, and placement of milestones (most Constantinian) was carried out (Hollenstein 1975, 38–40).

Study and Excavation Archaeological exploration of Roman Thrace has not proceeded evenly across the province. For many years, excavation concentrated on urban centers, in most cases rescuing remains of a Roman (mainly late Roman) city beneath the modern one, without the ability to focus on areas that would be of most interest to research. In rural areas, too, excavations due to infrastructure projects like highways, pipelines, and railways have dominated archaeological work for the last two decades. Most of these rescue excavations, even including iconic sites such as the stadium and theater in Philippopolis, remain unpublished except for brief reports in the yearly Archaeological Discoveries and Excavations, and may never be published fully. A few sites are better documented: volumes have appeared on Nicopolis ad Istrum (Ivanov and Ivanov 1994), Pautalia (Slokoska 1989; Katsarova 2005), Philippopolis (Topalilov 2012), Serdica (Ivanov 2020), Diocletianopolis (Madzharov 1993), Montana (most recently Ivanov and Luka 2017; Velkov 1987), Abritus (Ivanov 1980), and Nessebar (Velkov 1969; Velkov 1980; Velkov and Karayotov 2005). This is still less than satisfactory. Part of the gap has been filled recently by a series on Roman and early Byzantine cities in Bulgaria (Ivanov 2002, 2003, 2008b, in Bulgarian); two volumes in English on the Roman cities (Ivanov 2012a, 2015); and a volume of Tabula imperii Romani (Ivanov 2012b). A series on the Roman archaeology of Bulgaria (Ivanov 2004, 2006, 2008a) reveals some aspects of culture throughout the Thracian land. Little is known of the cities’ territories, as few settlements, villages, villas (though see Dinchev 1997), or sanctuaries (see Vŭlchev 2015) have been discovered; this contrasts sharply with the abundance of settlements mentioned in military diplomas of the Thracian praetorians. Among the few fully published sites are the imperial villa near Kostinbrod (Dinchev 2003), individual villas (Nikolov 1984; Buyukliev 1986; Mladenova 1991), settlements along the road system (Madjarov 2004; Madzharov 2009) and various stations, as well as the emporium Discoduraterae (Bojanov 2014). Not much has been done on the military castella: despite decades-long excavations at Cabyle and

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five successive symposia on it, we are far from getting a good idea of the castellum of cohors II Lucensium, and the situation is not much better for the other castellum, Germania. More is known about the smaller fortresses of the second half of the third century, which appeared after the devastating Gothic invasions of the Balkans (Dinchev 2006b). We know even less about the parts of Thrace in modern Greece and Turkey, though there has been some excavation at Hadrianopolis and Plotinopolis (Bakalakis and Triandaphyllos 1978, 239–247 and annual reports in Το Αρχαιολογικό Έργο στη Μακεδονία και στη Θράκη), as well as at Abdera and Maroneia. Perinthos (modern Ereğli), though it was seat of the provincial governor, has as yet been poorly explored (Sayar 1998). National boundaries and differing languages still challenge any full understanding of Thrace’s provincial culture and its specifics. For example, the relevant volume of Tabula Imperii Romani (Ivanov 2012b) covered only the territory within Bulgaria’s borders. There have recently been international congresses deliberately focused on Roman and late antique Thrace where certain aspects of the provincial archaeology have been discussed by Bulgarian, Turkish, Greek, and other archaeologists (Vagalinski et al. 2018).

Settlement and Ethnicity The abundance and fertility of its lands and rivers, as well as advantageous geographic, topographical, and other features of Thrace, gave rise to varied settlement patterns starting from the seventh century bce on the Black Sea and Aegean coasts, with cities such as Apollonia, Abdera, Maroneia, Perinthos, and Byzantion. They were followed by the foundation of other cities, such as Mesembria, as well as apoikiai, some of which later developed and become poleis, like Anchialos, which will be discussed later. The cities entered the empire under different statuses, mostly due to the political turbulence in the region. Thus, Apollonia lost its splendor in the Roman campaign of 72/71 bce and never regained it, while Anchialos’ importance grew and it became an administrative center of the Thracian client kingdom. Byzantium was initially a civitas foederata, a full ally of Rome, then a civitas libera ("free"), and finally became stipendiaria, paying taxes like the other cities of the province (Tacitus, Annals 11.62; Pliny, Natural History 4.46). Abdera was a free city upon entering the Roman Empire (Polybius 22.48.2; Pliny, Natural History 4.42– 43). With its strategic position, Perinthos become the seat of the provincial governor. Despite their different statuses on entering the empire, all eventually became civitates stipendiariae. Cities on the Sea of Marmara and Aegean coast were closer politically to the cities of Bithynia and Asia Minor than to those of inland Thrace. Eventually, Roman policy turned away from the coast to focus on the interior of Thrace and its vital military routes (Adams 1997, 135). This, among other factors, led to the decline of the Greek cities on the north Aegean coast; by the time of Trajan they had shrunk to towns whose dignity was based mainly on history. Initially, Thrace’s highly urbanized coastal areas contrasted with a less densely settled inland. In the late first century bce, most of inner Thrace’s settlement had consisted of villages and hill-forts, but three major settlements showed some features of a city: Bizye, the capital of the last client kingdom; Uscudama (later Hadrianopolis), whose early coinage linked it with the Odryssian kingdom (Gerasimov 1975, 45–48); and Philippopolis, likely a Macedonian foundation, whose strategic advantages raised it to become one of the centers of Thrace. Cabyle, another Macedonian town in the interior, was called simply horion, small town. All of these probably entered the empire as taxpaying cities. In order for Roman control to be ensured in eastern Thrace, where the old Thracian capital was, new colonies were founded under Claudius (Apris) and the Flavians (Deultum, as well



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as a civitas stipendiaria that later was promoted to municipium, Flaviopolis). After the successful Dacian Wars of Trajan, however, a full-scale urbanization of Thrace was launched: at least 14 cities, all taxpaying, were founded, some from indigenous settlements, others built ex novo. Some received the imperial gentilicium Ulpia in their names or as pseudo-tribes in the praetorian nomenclature; this use of the gentilicium rather than the cognomen (as in “Hadrianea Abdera”) is unique to the Greek-speaking province of Thrace. "Ulpia" appeared in the names of Nicopolis ad Istrum, Serdica, Pautalia, Topeiros, Anchialos, and Nicopolis ad Nestum on bronze civic coins, though only Nicopolis ad Istrum used it in official inscriptions. A complete list of the first wave of urbanization under Trajan appears in Claudius Ptolemaeus’s Geography 3.11.11–13; Serdica, Augusta Traiana, and Marcianopolis were not mentioned, suggesting that they were established later, possibly under Hadrian, when Uscudama became Hadrianopolis. Concurrent with this, all non-colony cities, even Perinthos and Byzantion, become civitates stipendiariae. Thrace’s inclusion in the Roman Empire made these lands attractive for many immigrants, mostly from the neighboring provinces of Asia, Bithynia, and Pontus, but also from Syria and Cappadocia. This led to rapid development of crafts (metalwork, architecture, leather, etc.) and trade. Some recent arrivals entered the provincial and municipal elite (Avram 2013), which also included Hellenized as well as Romanized Thracians, Romanized Anatolians and Greeks, Italians, veterans, and others (Sharankov 2011). The immigrants shaped the culture of local civic society with the introduction of political and religious practices and cults (for which see Tacheva 1983) previously uncommon in Thrace. The Hellenized elite also brought the “epigraphic habit” to Thrace. In older centers, the former Thracian aristocracy, now Romanized, seem to have preserved their elite standing alongside the new members. Thus a gradual change of local culture within the matrix of Roman imperial culture ensued, most influentially from Bithynia and Pontus, with little evidence for direct Italian influence except among Roman veterans or sporadic Italian immigrants. More Romanized was the population north of the Haemus mountains, close to Moesia Inferior’s legions and auxiliary troops. Nonetheless, some traits of Thracian culture survived, mostly in funerary rituals (Getov 1970, 1–10; Buyukliev 1986) and cults, as shown by Thracian names and epithets for the gods on stelae and votive plaques (Kazarow 1938; Gočeva and Opperman 1979, 1984). Praetorian guardsmen with Thracian names proudly stated their home cities and even small villages on the laterculi praetorianorum, as will be discussed.

Resources and Agriculture Though the economic potential of Thracian lands had been observed since the time of Homer, it was within the Roman Empire that it became fully developed, with the gradual introduction of new forms of economic activity and settlement as well as new standards of material culture (Dinchev 2006a, 97). Most settlements were traditional villages, occasionally joining together in komarchiai. Numerous local inscriptions and Roman military diplomas name such villages, and some have been studied archaeologically, revealing that they started to flourish after the end of the first century (Gerov 1980). Some Roman-style emporia appeared, such as Pizus and Piritensium; one, Discoduraterae, is known both epigraphically and archaeologically (Bojanov 2014). Agricultural products included barley, wheat, spelt, millet, onion, garlic, and vines (Mikhailov 2015, 105–108). The Romans paid special attention to minerals and metals, which were put under strict control by the government, either by direct imperial possession (as with the iron and copper mines in the territory of Bizye, where inscriptions mention

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prisoners officially condemned to the mines), or by passing control to veterans who received estates nearby. The Armira villa in the eastern Rhodope Mountains is near a marble quarry (Mladenova 1991), several villas around Montana are close to mines and a quarry, and those near modern Brezovo in the Plovdiv district are located near a marble quarry and goldbearing river. Some imperial saltus (estates) also neighbored natural resources. The praesidium Montana was close to iron and copper mines, while the colony Deultum was founded close to salt-pans. Mines are also documented in the areas of Pautalia, Serdica, and the Rhodope Mountains. Hot mineral waters were also among the first things to be exploited by the Romans, as the name of Aquae Calidae reveals, with its baths built in the time of Nero. The appearance of villas is an indisputable effect of the incorporation of the Thracian land into the Roman world (Dinchev 2006a, 98). Not many villas have been archaeologically recorded, especially in the Thracian plain, which is less well studied than the northern outskirts of the Haemus range; some are known from military diplomas or funerary stelae, showing that most were villae rusticae. Many villa owners were veterans whose descendants developed their properties over generations, but there were also some representatives of the provincial elite, including Thracian aristocrats, as at the villa near Chatalka in the Stara Zagora district, which is the earliest archaeologically attested villa in Thrace, dated to the mid-first century. Grain was the main product of most of the villas, but in some there was craft production, at least for local use (Dinchev 2006a, 108–119). Agriculture may have been the main reason for at least six villas around Serdica; as mentioned, some were near mines and quarries, but they also stood near and controlled main roads, for access to Italian imports. The first villas were large centers of significant estates, whether imperial or private, such as the abovementioned villas Armira and Chatalka, two near Pautalia and one near Madara. Some of the villas were destroyed in the mid-third century, while others, such as that in Kostinbrod, called Scretiska in the ancient sources, continued to develop into imposing or even palatial mosaic-floored houses in the fourth century. After the Gothic wars of the late fourth century, however, the villa owners of the plains moved to walled cities; in the mountains, the villas themselves were fortified (Dinchev 1997).

Language and Inscriptions Roman Thrace was among the Greek-speaking provinces, and thousands of Greek inscriptions have been found, though the “epigraphic habit” was not common in inner rural Thrace either before or after the arrival of the Romans. Nonetheless, provincialization led more Thracians, starting with the provincial and municipal elites and including the Hellenized/ Romanized Thracian aristocracy, to set up statues with inscribed bases or funeral stelae. The Greek inscriptions found in Bulgaria have been published in a five-volume series (IGBulg I-V; also Sharankov 2016, 305–361), those from Perinthos and Byzantium in corpora (Sayar 1998; IGSK Byzantion) and those from the territory of modern Greece in a regional corpus (IAeg Thrace). Latin inscriptions were fewer, and generally of military, administrative, or funerary character. In most cases they are linked with Roman officials in the provincial administration, soldiers, and veterans settled in the two Roman colonies and major urban centers. Veterani consistentes associated with an Augusteum are known from Augusta Traiana, discussed farther on. Thracian was used only as a spoken language (Sharankov 2011, 139–151). As may be expected, the largest collections of Roman-period inscriptions come from the major cities and administrative centers: Perinthos, Philippopolis, Serdica, Pautalia, Augusta Traiana, the Greek West-Pontic centers, and Nicopolis ad Istrum. They include civic, religious, funerary, and honorific texts. Some smaller corpora of mostly religious and funerary inscriptions come from country sanctuaries (some of Thracian cults), villages, estates, road



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stations, and castella scattered throughout the province. One important sanctuary was near Batkun, where both elite and non-elite Thracians, Romanized and/or Hellenized, set up votive plaques (Tsontchev 1941). Throughout the province, columnar milestones indicated the distance to a city or the borders of administrative territories, whether of the city, village, or komarchia. Last but not least, the legends on the bronze civic coinage reveal the municipal elite’s beliefs, wishes, and propaganda intended to strengthen local patriotism and pride. Though the methods of promulgation were not indigenous but Greco-Roman, they nonetheless show the continued diversity of Thraco-Roman society.

Urbanization Although from Trajan’s time on all Thracian cities had the same official taxpaying status, there were huge differences among them in most aspects of civic life. These were due to topography, urban traditions, ethnicity, wealth, ambitions of the urban elite, importance for provincial and Roman imperial administration, and specific historic events, especially imperial visits, which resulted in differences in built features and appearance. Nonetheless, all had some features that were common to every city in the Roman Empire, especially in the East. All of them had an orthogonal grid system, with major streets identified as decumanus maximus and cardo maximus. Though the central square complexes at the crossing of those streets varied in plan, composition, and location, they generally had the typical features of the agorai of Asia Minor: an open area surrounded by porticos, and behind them a chain of rooms, mostly interpreted as shops, as well as various civic buildings such as the bouleuterion (curia), civil basilica, stoa, odeon, archive, etc. Marcianopolis is thus far the only Thracian city that may have had a Roman-style “forum,” though the sole evidence is a civic coin minted under Gordian III, whose reverse shows a rectangular area surrounded by porticos with a temple on a platform on its short side. There is as yet no evidence for fora at the Roman colonies Apris and Deultum. In fact, Marcianopolis had other unusual non-Greek structures, including an amphitheater: otherwise only Serdica and Diocletianopolis had one, but both are late and had nothing to do with the initial urbanization. The new Roman cities were established on terrain that allowed the construction of a “proper” Roman town, regardless of any preexisting settlement. In only a few cases was some part of the pre-Roman settlement integrated into the new city, mostly citadels turned into acropoleis, and in Philippopolis, placement of the agora, as will be discussed. Not all of the cities possessed a natural acropolis, but where possible, an acropolis of standard type was made by reorganizing the terrain, as at Philippopolis and Perinthos. Sometimes the acropolis was enclosed within the city’s walls, but in others, it was outside them, as at Pautalia and possibly Augusta Traiana, where a nearby hill became the acropolis. At Serdica and Nicopolis ad Istrum there was no acropolis at all. The greatest transformation for most of the cities of Thrace came during the time of Hadrian, when their street grids were laid out and paved, and agoras, administrative buildings, and temples built. Gradually, their areas were filled with further civic buildings, such as the Macellum (market) at Augusta Traiana. Arcaded aqueducts brought water (at Philippopolis and Nicopolis ad Istrum from more than 20 km away) to supply mosaic-floored baths and thermae. Some of the thermae were huge, up to over 6 hectares, and belong to the type of bath-gymnasia known in Asia Minor. Baths at Pautalia, Serdica, and Diocletianopolis, as discussed later, were supplied by local mineral springs. This sophisticated water supply was a major concern for each city from its foundation onward (Tsarov 2017). By the time of Antoninus Pius, the process of urbanization was complete, and Thracian cities had all the built features of cities of the eastern Roman Empire. In some cases, they were so central to civic identity that the city illustrated them on its coinage.

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With the foundation of new cities and transformation of old ones, the cities in Thrace also received temples, both within and outside their walls, some at a significant distance. They are mostly known from bronze civic coins and inscriptions. Although Thracian sanctuaries have been studied archaeologically, and one of the largest was that of Aesculapius at Philippopolis. more such studies are needed for temples; there is a great deal of epigraphic data for temples to the emperors, however (Raycheva 2013). There was a second civic building boom in Serdica, Nicopolis ad Istrum, Perinthos, and especially Philippopolis under Commodus, which spread throughout the Thracian cities in the time of the Severans. The cities reached their zenith, refreshing their major structures and complexes with marble embellishment. Many new buildings, temples, and cult statues are documented by the abundant civic coinage and inscriptions. Although ancient sources (Dexippus, FGrH 100  F 26, Ammianus Marcellinus 31.5.17) assert that Philippopolis, for example, had a population of up to 100,000 in the mid-third century, this is doubtful; likely most of the cities were of medium and small size. In any case, the barbarian invasions of the third century devastated the cities and their land, leaving late third-century Thrace depopulated (Latin Panegyrics 5.5.21), with lots of empty space within the cities’ curtain walls. They took a long time to recover in the fourth century, and changed in the process to “late antique” cities. Their improved defensive walls provided more stability and security for the municipal elite, who left their villas and moved to the more secure cities.

The Cities Philippopolis Though it is overlain by the modern city of Plovdiv, no city in Thrace has been more excavated and studied than Philippopolis (Figure 19.2). It shows all the characteristic features of a Roman provincial city, but certain peculiarities of history and topography make it less typical than, for example, the new Trajanic/Hadrianic cities of inner Thrace. Philippopolis was founded in 342/341 bce as a border fortress of the Macedonian kingdom under Philip II, after whom the city was named. The fortress was built on the “Three Hills” that dominated a vast and highly productive agricultural territory as well as controlling the trade route along the river Hebros. In the first century bce, late Hellenistic Philippopolis was a rather modest but well-fortified settlement, perhaps a king’s residence. Its fortification, strategic position on the precursor of the Via Diagonalis, and proximity to the Roman legions in Moesia and Macedonia made Philippopolis suitable to become headquarters of the Roman praetor under the Thracian client kings, by the second decade of the first century ce. After Rhoemetalces II was appointed king by Tiberius, he probably renamed Philippopolis as Tiberias (Malalas, Chronicle 236.1), and gave it the plan of a new Roman city, disregarding any preceding urban structure. But economic crises and political turbulence did not allow the city to be completed at that time. After the province was created in 46 ce, Philippopolis got another chance at urbanization, and in the Flavian period it became metropolis, center of the koinon treasury and archives, and issuer of its own civic bronze coinage, while Perinthos was the Roman administrative center. The previous Roman-style layout was reused, but the new city expanded to more than 70 hectares in size, with the old citadel turned into the Acropolis and the Agora set where the main streets intersected. From this point, the new foundation spread outward. Though the vital route Via Diagonalis had run north through the inhabited area, just off the southern outskirts of the Three Hills, now the road from what later became Hadrianopolis (former Uscudama?) transitioned into the decumanus maximus. The Oescus-Philippopolis road had been the cardo maximus, but the construction of a stadium, as we shall see, closed that road off in this area, making the cardo maximus lead to the Acropolis as a processional way, while the Via Diagonalis was incorporated into the street grid and ran to the Stadium.



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Figure 19.2  Plan of Philippopolis, with all excavated sites indicated by dots. By John Wallrodt, from Topalilov 2012, fig. 3.

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Many of Philippopolis’s major complexes were constructed in the Flavian era, most probably in the time of Domitian, who was commemorated with a statue in the Agora. One example is the Agora itself, in the space of eight insulae, or 190 × 136 m, with a central area of 113.40 × 99.60 m, accessed via monumental propylea in the middle of the eastern, western and southern sides. Its rectangular porticus was backed by a chain of rooms all around, with administrative buildings on the northern side. Whether the later tabularium and bouleuterion were part of the initial complex is unknown. The architecture was Roman-style Doric, with sandstone columns and capitals. Another Flavian structure was the 5,000-seat Theater on the southern slope of the Three Hills (Figure 19.3). It is a typical theater of the Roman East, with a scaenae frons richly decorated with Ionic, Corinthian, and Composite columns. Its status as the only theater yet known in inland Thrace shows the high intellectual level of Philippopolis’s society. Inscriptions on the seats show the place for each phyle in the city, indicating changes in their population and importance over the centuries. On the pulpitum were numerous statues associated with the provincial koinon, whose assembly met here; one represented T. Flavius Cotys, three times chief priest of the koinon, who likely played a crucial role in the Theater’s construction (Sharankov 2017, 779–781). The Theater expanded in the time of the Severans, and was also used for gladiatorial games and hunts, as shown by the building of a protective fence (Vagalinski 2009; Topalilov 2012). The earliest known gladiatorial events associated with the chief priesthood here date to 161–163 ce. The Stadium, likely also constructed in the time of Domitian, is actually a combined stadium and hippodrome, the only one of its kind yet found in Thrace (Figure 19.4). Over 230 m long, it seated about 30,000, and was built between the western slopes of the Three

Figure 19.3  The Theater in Philippopolis. Photo by Ivo Topalilov.



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Figure 19.4  The Stadium in Philippopolis. Photo by Ivo Topalilov.

Hills and the eastern slopes of Clock Tower Hill, north of the Agora and outside the urban grid. Not surprisingly, an arch was built in honor of Domitian nearby (Bozhinova and Stanev 2019, 302). The Stadium’s two-storied façade featuring decorative pilasters and herms, some sections of the seating, and the entire sphendone, with a passage over which the imperial box was placed, have been discovered; the latter is very similar to that of Domitian’s Stadium in Rome’s Piazza Navona. Hadrian’s visit to Philippopolis in 131 ce, on his way to Athens, had a huge impact on the development of the city. One manifestation was an honorific arch that was built some 200 m north of the urban grid, on the Via Diagonalis. This became the area where imperial adventus were celebrated; the processions traveled from this point via the “northern decumanus” to the Stadium (where a votive plaque dedicated to the hero Antinous may indicate that games in his honor took place there, perhaps in the emperor’s own presence), and then via the cardo maximus to the Acropolis. The one-passage Arch is richly decorated in a style similar to that of Aphrodisias, with a partly preserved inscription; the sculpture might have also included a portrait of the empress Sabina. The Arch was in ruins in the second half of the third century, but in the fourth century it was restored and turned into a porta triumphalis where adventus continued to be celebrated. This is the second structure in Philippopolis that is mentioned in the literary sources, this time as the “Eastern Gate of the city.” Many major building projects were executed as a consequence of Hadrian’s visit, some of which were not completed until the time of Antoninus Pius. One was paving the streets with irregular syenite stone slabs, with sophisticated sewers beneath. Most streets were about 6 m wide, with sidewalks, and in some cases colonnades, on both sides. The main streets were 9 m wide, with rich architectural decoration along the cardo maximus. In later periods, street

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levels were occasionally raised in the city center, and in the late fourth to fifth century some parts of the streets and sidewalks were incorporated into neighboring houses. Some repairs to the pavement were made using smaller syenite pavers, or, in the late third and fourth centuries, marble spolia. In the fifth century, a few streets went out of use, and buildings spread over them. Even at its peak, however, Philippopolis never filled its entire expanse as planned in the first century ce. The Agora was also part of the Hadrianic construction program. Its sandstone architectural decor was replaced with marble, though some of the old capitals and columns may have been repurposed. The new order was Roman-style Corinthian, and on some of the bases the name of the Munacii, a famous plebeian family, was inscribed; they probably sponsored the reconstruction. The complex was given monumental marble propylaea, and some smaller entrances were added through the lateral rooms on the east and west sides. In the central space stood a small temple, perhaps of the imperial cult, as well as a rostra and statue bases; the one dedicated to Domitian was reused after the condemnation of his memory in 96 ce. Another possibly Hadrianic construction was the administrative buildings on the north side of the Agora, including the Bouleuterion for the city council, the koinon archive (Tabularium provinciae – a funerary stela mentions a tabularius provinciae in the city, who could have also acted as censor), and a still unidentified building at the northwest corner. They were organized around a smaller marble courtyard north of the archive and west of the Bouleuterion, whose facade of Corinthian columns embellished the marble square as well. This distinction between two different squares is an Anatolian feature. Philippopolis’s first aqueduct, built in Hadrianic times, brought clean water from the Rhodope Mountains, as far as 20 km away. Eventually at least four aqueducts supplied the city, the earliest depicted on local coins, the latest built in the time of Justinian I. The water came to the west and south sides of the city and was stored in at least two separate reservoirs (one also depicted on the city’s coins) inside and outside the walls, from which it was distributed to the city. This abundant water supply allowed the construction of at least two massive and richly decorated public thermae, the western one at the time of Antoninus Pius, and the eastern under the Severans. Both are partly excavated, and were decorated with mosaic pavements that were reconstructed in the second half of the third century, after the Gothic destruction. Near the end of the fourth century, these thermae ceased to be used as baths, and their ruins were used for workshops and dwellings (Topalilov 2012, 125–130). Despite extensive rescue excavations in Plovdiv, few temples beyond the small one in the Agora have been discovered. Civic bronze coins show temples and cult statues located on hills both inside and outside the city walls; these and inscriptions reveal the existence of temples and sanctuaries of Apollo, Bendis, Dionysus, Genius, Aesculapius, Hecate, Hermes, the Thracian Rider, Homonoia, the three nymphs, perhaps one to Eumolpus, and a colossal statue of Heracles. But the most important cults of Philippopolis were those of the emperors and Apollo Kendrisos, celebrated jointly in an octastyle temple located a few miles away from the city. This may have been due to Hadrian’s visit in 131, which coincided with the day of celebration of Apollo’s cult; in the time of Elagabalus, this gained the title neokoros for Philippopolis. Another major sanctuary was that of Asclepius on the acropolis of the Three Hills, from which a huge relief sculpture is preserved. It was built under Marcus Aurelius, probably due to the plague that spread over the empire, including Philippopolis, at that time. By the reign of Antoninus Pius, Philippopolis had all the features and complexities of a Roman city; a curtain wall was added under Marcus Aurelius, after the rupture of the Danubian limes around 170–171. The wall, of opus quadratum combined with opus mixtum, did not enclose the entire city, just the Three Hills and almost two-thirds of the lower city. Its main gate had a bilingual dedication and probably two flanking towers. In the second half of the third century, the wall was reconstructed, and by the late fourth century, it was extended



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to include the Hadrianic Arch, now a triumphal gate leading into a major new street. This was the widest street yet known in Thrace, 13.20 m across, flanked by sidewalks topped by decorated two-stored colonnades. It ignored the city’s previous grid and destroyed part of the eastern thermae in order to reach either the city’s episcopal basilica or palace. Commodus also played a crucial role in the economic and political prosperity of the city: in his reign a Treasury (aedes thensaurorum), which recognized the city as a center of the provincial fiscal system, was built, and the emperor himself was honored with an agonistic festival in his name commemorated on the city’s bronze coinage, as well as a statue in the Agora. The latter was not demolished during the short-lived condemnation of his memory, but only destroyed by the barbarians in the mid-third century; its base was reused in the later third century building that replaced the Treasury, and the entire inscription, including Commodus’ name, could be read. Philippopolis’ prosperity continued in the time of the Severans with the embellishment or enlargement of its major complexes (including temples), as well as possible construction of the eastern thermae, a new reservoir and/or aqueduct, and a synagogue (Kessjakova 1989, 20–33). Further agonistic festivals were organized, linked with the presence in the area of Septimius Severus, Caracalla, and later Elagabalus. Initially, these were koinon celebrations, but later were headed by the elite of Philippopolis, showing not only their devotion to the emperor but also their connection to the Panhellenic world. It is not surprising that the city became neokoros after Elagabalus’ visit in 219 (Burrell 2004). As for housing, a full insula of the Roman period was uncovered east of the Agora, providing valuable information about the so-called block houses. Some elite houses of the traditional Hellenistic peristyle type have also been discovered, which were embellished in the Severan period with elaborate paintings, marble decor, and mosaic pavements (one depicting Neptune or, according to some, Narcissus; another geometric with birds). A typical house of this sort took up two-thirds of its insula and featured private bathing facilities, interior fountains, apsidal triclinia, and large reception halls. In 251, the city suffered greatly during its capture by the Goths and did not recover until the fourth century, when it had its second zenith. Philippopolis was not necessarily intended to be the model for the province, but certain key features may have inspired urban and architectural decisions in other cities. It became a model, however, as a provincial capital in late antiquity.

Nicopolis ad Istrum Nicopolis ad Istrum was founded to celebrate Trajan’s victory over the Dacians, and its almost-square urban perimeter, curving at the northeast, enclosed ca. 21.55 ha, making it a middle-sized city. It was located at a crossroads in a fertile and previously colonized area that geographically belonged more to Lower Moesia than Thrace. Not surprisingly, its population was mostly Roman citizens, including immigrants from the Anatolian provinces and Syria, with very few Thracians; Latin tombstones predominate. Archaeological excavations have concentrated on the Agora and its surroundings, the fortifications, the aqueduct, and the city’s southern extension. Aerial photography shows an orthogonal grid plan, with an Agora complex located at the crossing of cardo maximus and decumanus maximus. Nicopolis was fortified by a curtain wall of opus quadratum combined with opus mixtum, which followed the topographic features of the terrain. Three of its gates have been uncovered; the main one, at the north, connects with the road from Novae. The paved streets of Nicopolis were ca. 6  m wide, with main streets ca. 7  m, some flanked by colonnnades, with sophisticated sewerage (Ivanov and Ivanov 1994, 24–37). The Agora covered two insulae and consisted of a courtyard surrounded by Ionic

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colonnades, lined with shops in the east and south, a stoa (later converted into a threeaisled basilica or more probably basilike stoa) on the north, and an odeon, bouleuterion, and cultic buildings on the west. The Agora’s main entrance from the decumanus maximus was an imposing Corinthian propylon, followed by a peristyle between the bouleuterion and the two-storied, roofed Odeon; the latter seated ca. 350–400 and is the only classical example discovered in Thrace. Other buildings discovered in the center of Nicopolis include the Thermoperipatos, its unique name known from a Greek inscription: it is a two-storied rectangular building with a long side facing north onto the decumanus maximus. It had Ionic and Corinthian columns, entrances on all four sides, a single-storied row of rooms (shops) on north and south, and a two-storied, roofed central hall, as well as a building with palaestra, probably a gymnasium (Ivanov 2012a, 140–146). By the northern gate stood a bath building, fed by an aqueduct that originated 27 km away flowing into a monumental reservoir west of the city (Tsarov 2017, 118–146). An inscription mentions a temple of Theos Hypsistos, though there is no archaeological evidence for it yet (Sharankov 2014, 28–45). Nicopolis stood until late antiquity (Ammianus Marcellinus 31.5.16), though its location shifted to the south, where a new fortress was built and Christian basilicas have been discovered (Poulter 1995).

Serdica Serdica is generally accepted as a Trajanic city (Kirova 2012, 199; Ivanov 2020, 111), though its name is missing from the list in Ptolemaeus’s Geography 3.11.6–7; as already mentioned, it might belong to the “second wave” of Trajanic/Hadrianic urbanization in Thrace. This civitas stipendiaria was newly built, replacing the strategia of Serdica. Serdica had a rectangular plan and standard orthogonal grid, and was initially ca. 16.6 ha in size, though it later grew considerably. Its two main streets crossed at the Agora, at the heart of the town (Dinchev 2011a, 69). The rectangular Agora has been partly excavated, and had administrative buildings on the east side, where the cardo maximus entered. Only the two-storied Bouleuterion has been identified. Baths were built on the south side in the third century (Dinchev 2011b), which were later turned into a Praetorium when Aurelian made Serdica capital of the new province Dacia Mediterranea. A small arch was added in the time of Constantine, when Serdica served as an imperial residence for some time. Besides the buildings and streets around the Agora, other public and private buildings have been uncovered, some with rich mosaics. There is a Gerousia, bath buildings (Dinchev 2011a), a Mithraeum, and a temple of Apollo or Aesculapius. An official inscription implies that Serdica’s irregularly shaped fortifications were built ca. 176–180. They incorporated the Via Diagonalis, which within the main gate became the ca. 9 m wide decumanus maximus. The east and west gates have been studied and are open to the public. As the fortified area was small, some of the public buildings remained outside the walls. Among them are a spectacle building, a pottery workshop, several temples, including one for Jupiter/Serapis, and the Amphitheater, dated to the end of the third century. The latter has dimensions of 100  ×  80  m with at least two construction periods. It may have replaced an earlier theater with stone foundation and wooden construction (Kirova 2012). There is no information about the water supply outside the walls, but civic coins show many fountains in the city (Kirova 2012, 204–246). In the late third century the town expanded northward due to construction of a northern fortress, known as the annex Serdica II. Its area is approximately 55–60 ha, but only scanty archaeological remains have been found, as the area is covered with modern buildings.



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Augusta Traiana Augusta Traiana was a civitas stipendiaria, strategically located at the southern foot of Sarnena Gora, beyond which lie the Haemus mountains. No pre-Roman structures have been found, and the link between the Roman city and the indigenous settlement Beroe which the praetorian laterculi and historical narratives (Ammianus Marcellinus 17.4.12) mentioned is unclear. Like Serdica, Augusta Traiana was founded in the “second wave” of Thracian urbanization, whether in the time of Trajan or that of Hadrian. It was dedicated to the Optimus Princeps himself, like Traianopolis, while such cities as Plotinopolis and Marcianopolis commemorated Trajan’s family. The town lies beneath modern Stara Zagora. Archaeological excavations have revealed Augusta Traiana’s irregular perimeter and orthogonal grid plan, with the usual main streets, decumanus maximus and cardo maximus, 5–6 m wide; over 200 m of the former have been uncovered so far. At their junction was the still unexcavated agora. Under the pavement, a sophisticated sewer system was found. Several buildings with shops facing the street have been partly excavated. The city’s main aqueduct, built in Hadrian’s or Marcus Aurelius’ time, probably ran mainly underground from a spring located 3 km north of the modern city. Huge thermae of the bath-gymnasium type, ca. 6500 sq. m, have been partially excavated near the later western gate; probably built under Marcus Aurelius, they had an auditorium and a small oval courtyard on the south. This courtyard was initially interpreted as a forum (Nikolov 1987a, 96–107), but it seems to have accommodated both gladiatorial games and imperial adventus, as an imperial statue was likely set up there in the first half of the fourth century (Popova 2017). In the northern part of Augusta Traiana, a temple to the emperor has been almost entirely excavated; it apparently collapsed in an earthquake in the mid-fourth century (Kamisheva and Atanasov 2016, 610–612). Inscriptions reveal the existence of as yet undiscovered buildings: a theater (IGBulg 3.2.1578, under Hadrian), an odeon, a macellum in the time of Marcus Aurelius (Nikolov 1987b, 259–261), an Augusteum built by veterani consistentes in 233 ce, a huge portico of 66 columns and a Dikeion of thirty-five columns by the Severan gymnasion, and a gerousia. There was also a Temple of Zeus and Themis. In the 170s Augusta Traiana received a curtain wall, though due to the terrain some buildings were left outside it. Similar to those in Philippopolis and Nicopolis ad Istrum, the wall used both opus quadratum and opus mixtum. The construction of the western gate on the road coming from Philippopolis required a new decumanus to travel across the oval courtyard to join the older decumanus maximus. Richly decorated houses of the municipal elite, similar to those of Philippopolis, have been found; some that date to the fourth century stood outside the walls.

Pautalia Though the Roman city Pautalia has long been thought to have been established on the site of the indigenous tribal center Dentheletai, no pre-Roman structures or settlement have yet been found (Katsarova 2005, 95–101). Located near mineral springs, Pautalia was built as an irregular rectangle with an orthogonal grid plan, though only the 7-m-wide colonnaded decumanus maximus, running from the main eastern gate, has yet been identified. The agora’s location is still unknown, though a basilica civilis is mentioned in an inscription of 135 ce. Probably in the time of Hadrian or at latest Antoninus Pius, a 3000 sq. m bath complex of the “imperial thermae” type was built, with a cistern nearby (Katsarova 2012, 271). There was also a smaller bath complex covering just one insula, and a possible balneum. Like most of the cities in Thrace, Pautalia built curtain walls in the time of Marcus Aurelius, enclosing a rectangular area of ca. 30 ha. It is possible that at that point the decumanus maximus was shifted to join the decumanus running from the eastern gate.

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As in many other cities, local coins and inscriptions document other buildings in Pautalia: the civic basilica already mentioned, and temples to Aesculapius, Zeus, and Hera. There were likely temples and sanctuaries on the Hissarlaka hill, where a fortified garrison was built in the fourth century (Katsarova 2012, 266–282).

Nicopolis ad Nestum There is debate about which victory Nicopolis ad Nestum was named for, and when it gained the status of civitas stipendiaria. It seems that it was founded by Mark Antony in 32 bce in celebration of the tenth anniversary of the battle of Philippi, and that it received civic status and changed its name to Nicopolis ad Mestum instead ad Nestum (Petrova 2012, 305–307). Not much is known of the Roman town, but it appears to have had an orthogonal grid, though only a bath building (first quarter of fourth century) and part of a peristyle building (still later) have been discovered. Part of the town was fortified with an opus mixtum curtain wall enclosing an irregular polygonal area of ca. 11 ha in the mid-fourth century (Petrova 2012, 289–361).

Marcianopolis Not much is known archaeologically about Roman Marcianopolis. It belongs to the “second wave” of urbanism, though local legend placed its foundation under Trajan (Dexippus, fr. 25; Ammianus Marcellinus 27.4.12; Jordanes, Getica 16.93). It had an irregular rectangular perimeter and an orthogonal grid. Some parts of decumani and cardines have been discovered: a cardo 8.60 m wide and a decumanus of 9 m could be the main streets. A central complex has been located but not yet excavated; it is accepted as an agora, but a good image on a civic coin presents a typical Roman forum, with open area surrounded by porticos and a temple located on the far side. The Roman town’s curtain wall is partly preserved; its construction in opus quadratum combined with opus mixtum is dated roughly to the second half of the second century, probably under Marcus Aurelius. An amphitheater seating perhaps 3500 was built in the second half of the third century and demolished near the end of the fourth. Excavation of Marcianopolis has also revealed a peristyle house of the late third century, lavishly decorated with mosaic pavements, occupying an entire insula (Angelov 2002, 105–124).

Deultum Colonia Flavia Pacis Deulthensium was established in 70 ce (Draganov 2006, 27) and was 40 ha in area. It is only partially uncovered, but it is clear that the Roman colony had an orthogonal grid with a possible colonnaded decumanus maximus. Otherwise, only a bath complex and part of the curtain wall have been explored. The colony was fortified under Marcus Aurelius (Balabanov and Petrova 2002, 237–250).

Anchialos Although Anchialos was prominent in the Roman period, we know more about the preRoman and late antique periods. As mentioned above, Anchialos’s importance increased after 72 bce, when the Roman commander Marcus Lucullus destroyed the previous regional center Apollonia. Later, Ovid passed by on his way to exile in Tomis, and was impressed by the high walls of Anchialos (Tristia 1.10.1). It seems that within the Thracian client kingdom



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the city played an important role as an administrative (strategeia) as well as an intellectual center. In the Roman period, when Anchialos became a civitas stipendiaria, the urban area was extended to occupy 120–140 ha. Not much has been archaeologically excavated, outside of some residential buildings, streets, including a decumanus maximus, and possibly a sanctuary of Sarapis and Isis built in the second century. The civic coinage, however, gives a good deal of information of what the Roman town looked like (Karayotov 2015a, b).

Diocletianopolis It appears that after Thrace became a Roman province, this settlement was founded to benefit from the local thermal springs; the resort may have been named Augusta. In the late third century it was renamed Diocletianopolis, and became the third provincial center in the late antique province of Thrace. The newly established town had an area of ca. 30 ha within the irregular rectangular shape of its fortifications, which had four main gates. The preserved curtain walls give the modern city its name: Hissarja, from the Turkish word for fortress, “hisar.” The gates were not axially located, and therefore neither of the typical two main streets have been discovered, though an orthogonal plan is likely. In the last quarter of the fourth century a porta triumphalis was built in the southern wall and the street grid was reestablished to focus on the major street running from it. Of the several buildings discovered so far, most impressive is a huge and very well preserved thermal complex (Figure 19.5); its construction dates to the second half of the third century. Another bath complex, within the walls on the “Momina banya” mineral spring, was

Figure 19.5  The Thermae at Diocletianopolis. Photo courtesy of M. Madzarov.

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constructed from November 11 to December 31, 308 ce, according to its building inscription. An amphitheater was built in the late third century, along with some peristyle residential complexes, some of which take up an entire insula. In late antiquity, Diocletianopolis become a major early Christian center, with at least nine churches (Madzharov 2012).

Military Sites Not much has been discovered of the military sites of Roman Thrace. As has been mentioned, from its establishment as a province, Thrace held no legions. Military recruitment was sporadic among the population, for example in the fertile Thracian valleys, though the Second Jewish Revolt led to recruitment of more sailors. According to Josephus (Jewish War 2.16.4), Thrace held a 2000-man garrison, probably stationed in three or four camps. One may have been near the road station Parembole, as indicated by a Flavian imperial statue base with a Latin inscription, as well as a nearby veteran settlement. Later fortifications include a Hadrianic one at Cabyle (Velkov 1991, 12–15), and a possible Severan one in Germania (Sapareva Banja). One inscription mentions the consecratio of the military camp of the auxiliary cohort II Lucensium in Cabyle by its prefect Claudius Lupus in 136 ce (Velkov 1991, 12–13). As late as 198/199 ce this cohort was relocated to Germania, where a new military camp was built, whose fortification walls and necropoleis have been partly uncovered. The rectangular camp had an area of 2.4 ha, and techniques used in the construction of its curtain walls included opus caementicum as a foundation, opus quadratum in the lower outer side, and opus vittatum and opus mixtum in the upper parts. It is probable that the cohort was stationed there until the time of Gordian III (Staikova–Aleksandrova and Staikova 2003, 204–207). Montana held the praesidium and permanent camp of the cohort I Claudia Sugambrorum (Sygambrorum). Archaeological excavations within the walls revealed that the initial fort was located elsewhere, but where is not known (Ivanov and Luka 2015, 235–245). It is, naturally, impossible to cite and discuss all aspects of the archaeology of Roman Thrace in such a brief overview. I hope that this chapter at least provides an introduction to the major aspects of life and material remains in Roman Thrace.

Biographical Note Ivo Topalilov is associate professor of Classical and late antique archaeology at the Institute for Balkan Studies and Center of Thracology, Bulgarian Academy of Science at Sofia, and teaches at the University of Plovdiv, Bulgaria. He has excavated in and around Philippopolis as well as at colonia Ulpia Traiana Ratiaria, and held a Mellon East-Central European Research Visiting Fellowship at the American Academy in Rome, a Fulbright at UNC Chapel Hill, and was a guest scholar at the Getty.

Abbreviations AE = L’Année Épigraphique. 1888–. Edited by René Cagnat et al. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. CIL = Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum. 1823–. Edited by Deutsche Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin. Paris: A. Franck.



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FGrH = Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker. 1923–. Edited by Felix Jacoby et al. Updated online as Brill’s New Jacoby, https://referenceworks-brillonline-com.uc.idm. oclc.org/browse/brill-s-new-jacoby IAeg = Inscriptiones antiquae parties Thraciae quae ad ora Maris Aegaei sita est. 2005. Edited by Louiza Loukopoulou, Maria Gabriella Parissaki, Selene Psoma, and Antigoni Zournatzi. Athens: Ethnikon Hidryma Ereunōn, Kentron Hellēnikēs kai Rhōmaïkēs Archaiotētos. IGBulg 1–5 = Inscriptiones Graecae in Bulgaria repertae. 1958-1997. Vol. I2-V. Edited by Georgi Mihailov. Serdica: Academia Litterarum Bulgarica. IGSK Byzantion = Die Inschriften von Byzantion. 2000. Edited by Adam Łajtar. Inschriften griechischer Städte aus Kleinasien 58. Bonn: R. Habelt.

REFERENCES Adams, John Paul. 1997. “Communication in South-Eastern Thrace.” In Αρχαία Θράκη. Πρακτικά του 2ου Διεθνούς Συμποσίου Θρακικών Σπουδών, edited by Δ. Τριαντάφυλλος and Δ. Τερζοπούλου, 135– 144. Κomotini: Ekdosi Morphotikou Omilou Komotinis. Angelov, Anastas. 2002. “Marcianopolis.” In Rimski i rannovizantiı̆ski gradove v Bu˘lgariya, edited by Rumen Ivanov, 105–124. Sofia: Ivraı˘. Avram, Alexandru. 2013. “Les Bithyniens en Thrace, en Mésie inférieure et dans le Pont Nord à l’époque impériale.” In L’Anatolie des peuples, des cités et des cultures (IIe millénaire av. J.-C. – Ve siècle ap. J.-C.) Colloque international de Besançon - 26–27 novembre 2010, edited by Hadrien Bru and Guy Labarre, 111–132. Besançon: Presses universitaires de Franche-Comté. Bakalakis, Georgios, and Diamantes Triandaphyllos. 1978. “Excavations at Plotinopolis 1977.” Balkan Studies, 19, no. 2: 239–247. Balabanov, Petar, and Svetla Petrova. 2002. “Deultum.” In Rimski i rannovizantiı̆ski gradove v Bu˘lgariya. Vol. 1, edited by Ryumen Ivanov, 237–250. Sofia: Ivraĭ. Bojanov, Ilijan. 2014. Diskoduratere i emporiite v Rimska Trakiya. Sofia: Avalon. Bozhinova, Elena, and Kamen Stanev. 2019. “Spasitelno arkheologichesko prouchvane nna ul. ‘D-r Valkovich’ № 16, gr. Plovdiv.” Arkheologicheski otkritiya i razkopki prez 2018 godina, 2018: 302–304. Burrell, Barbara. 2004. Neokoroi: Greek Cities and Roman Emperors. Cincinnati Classical Studies N.S. 9. Leiden: Brill. Buyukliev, Khristo. 1986. Trakiı̆skiyat mogilen nekropol pri Chatalka, Starozagorski okru˘g, Razkopki i prouchvaniya 16. Sofia: BAN – Arkheologicheski institut s muzeĭ. Delev, Peter. 2014. Istoriya na plemenata v yugozapadna Trakiya prez I hil. Pr. Hr. Sofia: Universitetsko izdatelstvo “Sv. Kliment Ohridski”. Delev, Peter. 2015. “From Koroupedion to the Beginning of the Third Mithridatic War (281–73 BCE).” In A Companion to Ancient Thrace, edited by Julia Valeva, Emil Nankov, and Denver Graninger, 59–74. Chichester: John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Dinchev, Ventzislav. 1997. Rimskite vili v dneshnata bu˘lgarska teritoriya. Sofia: Agato. Dinchev, Ventzislav. 2003. Ksnorimska rezidentsiya Scrertisca i rannovizantiı̆skoto selishte ΚΡΑΤΙΣΚΑΡΑ. Razkopki i prouchvaniya, tom 30. Sofia: Nous. Dinchev, Ventzislav. 2006a. “Agrarnite selishta ot rimskata epokha v dneshna Bŭlgariya.” In Arkheologiya na bu˘lgarskite zemi. Tom 2, edited by Rumen Ivanov, 97–123. Sofia: Ivraĭ. Dinchev, Ventzislav. 2006b. Rannovizantiı̆skite kreposti v Bu˘lgariya i su˘sednite zemi (v diotsezite Thracia i Dacia). Razkopki i prouchvaniya 35. Sofia: Upi-Design. Dinchev, Ventzislav. 2011a. “Kŭmu˘ kharakteristikata na gradoustroĭstvoto na Serdika.” Arkheologiya, 1: 61–77. Dinchev, Ventzislav. 2011b. “Obshtestvenite bani na Serdica.” In Studies in honour of Stefan Boyadzhev, edited by Stanislav Stanev, Valeri Grigorov, and Vladimir Dimitrov, 101–124. Sofia: Academic Publishing House. Draganov, Dimitar. 2006. Monetosecheneto na Deultum. Ruse: Bobokov Bros. Foundation.

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Dumanov, Boyan. 2015 “Thrace in Late Antiquity.” In A Companion to Ancient Thrace, edited by Julia Valeva, Emil Nankov, and Denver Graninger, 91–105. Chichester: John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Gerasimov, Todor. 1975. “Donnes numismatiques sur la ville d’Odrysa (Odrosa) en Thrace.” Studia balcanica, 10: 45–48. Gerov, Boris. 1979. “Die Grenzen der römischen Provinz Thracia bis zur Gründung des Aurelianishen Dakiens.” In Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt Bd. II,7.1. Provinzen und Randvölker: Griechischer Balkanraum; Kleinasien, edited by Hildegard Temporini, 212–240. Berlin: De Gruyter. Gerov, Boris. 1980. Zemevladenieto v Rimska Trakiya i Miziya (Í-ÍÍÍ v.). Godishnik na Sofiı̆skiya universitet, Fakultet po Klasicheski i Novi filologii, 72, no. 2. Getov, Lyudmil. 1970. “Pogrebalni obichai i grobni su˘oru˘zheniya u trakite prez rimskata epokha (I-IV v.).” Arkheologiya, 1: 1–11. Gočeva, Zlatozara, and Manfred Opperman. 1979. Corpus Cultus Equitis Thracii. Vol. I. Monumenta orae Ponti Euxini Bulgariae. Leiden: Brill. Gočeva, Zlatozara, and Manfred Opperman. 1984. Corpus Cultus Equitis Thracii. Vol. II. Monumenta inter Danubium et Haemum reperta. Leiden: Brill. Hollenstein, Lorenz. 1975. “Zu den Meilensteinen der römischen Provinzen Thracia und Moesia inferior.” Studia balcanica, 10: 23–45. Ivanov, Mario. 2020. Serdica ot Clavdii do Hadrian. Razkopki i prouchvaniya 45. Sofia: Bulged ood. Ivanov, Rumen, ed. 2002. Rimski i rannovizantiı̆ski gradove v Bu˘lgariya. Vol. 1. Sofia: Ivraĭ. Ivanov, Rumen, ed. 2003. Rimski i rannovizantiı̆ski gradove v Bu˘lgariya. Vol. 2 vols. Sofia: Ivraĭ. Ivanov, Rumen, ed. 2004. Arkheologiya na bu˘lgarskite zemi. Vol. 1 Sofia: Ivraĭ. Ivanov, Rumen, ed. 2006. Arkheologiya na bu˘lgarskite zemi. Vol. 2 Sofia: Ivraĭ. Ivanov, Rumen, ed. 2008a. Arkheologiya na bu˘lgarskite zemi. Vol. 3 Sofia: Ivraĭ. Ivanov, Rumen, ed. 2008b. Rimski i rannovizantiı̆ski gradove v Bŭlgariya. Vol. 3. Sofia: Ivraĭ. Ivanov, Rumen, ed. 2012a. Corpus of Ancient and Medieval Settlements in Modern Bulgaria. Vol. 1, Roman Cities in Bulgaria. Sofia: Academic Publishing House. Ivanov, Rumen, ed. 2012b. Tabula Imperii Romani, K-35/2- Philippopolis. Sofia: Tendrill. Ivanov, Rumen, ed. 2015. Thracian, Greek, Roman, and Medieval Cities, Residences and Fortresses in Bulgaria. Sofia: Ratiaria Semper Floreat. Ivanov, Rumen, and Krassimira Luka. 2015. “Montana.” In Thracian, Greek, Roman, and Medieval Cities, Residences and Fortresses in Bulgaria, edited by Rumen Ivanov, 197–278. Sofia: Ratiaria Semper Floreat. Ivanov, Rumen, and Krassimira Luka. 2017. Montana. Praesidium, Regio, Municipium. Sofia: Bulgarian Archaeological Association. Ivanov, Rumen, Pavlina Vladkova, Maja Martinova, and Vera Kolarova. 2004. “Gradskite ploshtadi v Miziya i Trakiya” In Arkheologiya na bŭlgarskite zemi. Vol. 1, edited by Rumen Ivanov, 277–313. Sofia: Ivraĭ. Ivanov, Teofil. 1980. Abritus. Rimski kastel i rannovizantiı̆ski grad v Dolna Miziya Tom 1. Topografiya i ukrepitelna sistema na Abritus. Sofia: Bulgarian Academy of Sciences. Ivanov, Teofil, and Rumen Ivanov. 1994. Nikopolis ad Istrum. Tom 1. Istoriya, topografiya, gradoustroı̆stvo, agora, arkhitektura, nadpisi. Sofia: Arges. Kamisheva, Marija, and Atanas Atanasov. 2016. “Arkheologicheski prouchvaniya v rezervat Avgusta Trayana-Vereya-Stara Zagora Upi V 3233, kv. 6601ʹ bul. M. Kusev 55 po plana na Stara Zagora.” Arkheologicheski otkritiya i razkopki prez 2015 godina: 610–614. Karayotov, Ivan. 2015a.“Anchialos.” In Corpus of Ancient and Medieval Settlements in Modern Bulgaria. Vol. 1. Roman Cities in Bulgaria, edited by Rumen Ivanov, 117–172. Sofia: Academic Publishing House. Karayotov, Ivan. 2015b. Anchialos/Anchialus during Antiquity. Burgas: Libra Scorp. Katsarova, Veselka. 2005. Pautaliya i neı̆nata teritoriya prez Í-VÍ v. Veliko Tu˘rnovo: Faber. Katsarova, Veselka. 2012.“Pautalia.” In Corpus of Ancient and Medieval Settlements in Modern Bulgaria. Vol. 1. Roman Cities in Bulgaria, edited by Rumen Ivanov, 261–288. Sofia: Academic Publishing House. Kazarow, Gavril. 1938. Die Denkmäler des thrakischen Reitergottes in Bulgarien, Dissertationes Pannonicae II. Leipzig: Otto Harrassowitz.



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CHAPTER 20

Bithynia and Pontus Owen Doonan

Introduction The dual province of Bithynia and Pontus represents a “periphery within” the Roman Empire: a region known for rugged land and people, rival local dynasties, but also numerous philosophers and scholars – a sparsely populated landscape in one of the most urbanized and literate parts of the empire. Woolf (1990) adapted the world systems model to the Roman Empire, emphasizing the robust local systems embedded in a political economy centered on Rome. In the classic model, peripheries remain purposely underdeveloped in order to furnish resources and raw materials at low cost to the center, where these materials are transformed into highvalue products. A “periphery within” shares characteristics with such peripheries despite its proximity to the center (Herman 2007, 103–143). The prosperous urbanized core of Bithynia and the refined coastal cities of Pontus formed a semi-peripheral interface with the imperial capital. Semi-peripheries house the dynamic middlemen in the system, rewarded for controlling local production and politics, and often wealthy and ambitious in their own right. This northern Anatolian province offers a useful case study in the texture of the Roman economy. Its highlands were underpopulated, almost desolate, though rich in forest products (timber, fruit, nuts), minerals, and marine resources (fish, shipbuilding timber); like classic peripheries, they remained underdeveloped. The sophisticated cities that had flourished under the Bithynian and Pontic kings became tied into Rome’s political economy yet maintained distinctive social and cultural identities. The wild spaces between them were tamed to some extent by the Roman road system, while the network of mountaintop sanctuaries and rock monuments betrays the persistence of older sinews of community. Given the nature of the evidence and this specific geographical-historical situation, this chapter will attempt to synthesize the material basis for integrating Bithynia and Pontus as a region, as well as conceptualizing the interface among urban, suburban, and rural communities. This province is challenging to define in spatial terms, as it was characterized by the fluid and dynamic borders typical of such a rugged and sparsely populated region (Figure 20.1). The initial organization of the province after Pompey’s annexation in 64 bce encompassed the north Anatolian kingdoms of the same names, but under Mark Antony

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 1, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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Figure 20.1  Map of Bithynia and Pontus naming major sites and natural features, with Roman roads as unbroken lines (from French 2016). Province of Pontus et Bithynia as of the early 2nd c. ce enclosed in dashed border. By John Wallrodt.

(39–30 bce) and later Augustus (31 bce–14 ce) the eastern and southeastern portions were reassigned to Pontic Galatia and Pontus Polemonianus. The shifting geographic and social nature of the province is reflected in the evolution of its name as preserved in local inscriptions: before the mid-first century ce they named it Bithynia, but under Claudius or Nero the combined “Pontus et Bithynia” began to predominate, while “Bithynia et Pontus” did not come into use until the end of the second century, under Septimius Severus (Wesch-Klein 2001; Baz 2013). This chapter will use “and” instead of Latin “et,” and will take a flexible approach to defining the edges of the province to reflect this shifting historical pattern, engaging the northern fringes of Galatia and Paphlagonia (especially around Pompeiopolis and Neoclaudiopolis) for the sake of geographic (if not necessarily administrative) integrity. Prior to conquest and incorporation into the Roman territory by Lucullus and Pompey, this had been one of the pockets of strongest resistance to Roman expansion into Asia Minor and the East. Its deep local social and cultural roots, under Persian and Greek influence, had transformed it from a region famed for violent tribal strife into powerful local kingdoms. Just before the Roman conquest, its political structure was dominated by the kingdoms of Pontus, under the leadership of Mithridates VI Eupator, and Bithynia, ruled first by Nicomedes IV and then conquered by Eupator. A string of quasi-independent Greek coastal poleis that had formed a loose federation in response to Persian encroachment in the fourth century bce fell under the sway of the Pontic dynasty beginning in the early second century bce. These ports dominated trade and politics along the Black Sea, while a cluster of cities – in particular Nicomedia, Nicaea, and Prusa – dominated the geography of western Bithynia. Mithridates VI Eupator led the resistance against the extension of Rome’s power into Anatolia. The resulting wars (89–64 bce), vividly recounted in Appian’s Mithridatic Wars, were among the most bitter ever fought by the Roman Republic. The region’s stubborn independence prompted Pompey to undertake a particularly intrusive reorganization after its conquest, under the provincial charter the lex Pompeia, as well as transforming local settlement patterns by establishing a string of cities from Pompeiopolis to Neapolis and further east.



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Early Sources and Scholarship Bithynia and Pontus are blessed with an abundance of geographic and historical accounts from Xenophon in the fourth century bce to late Ottoman times. Ancient sources include records of voyages, geographies, and even the letters of the Roman governor Pliny the Younger. Strabo, a native of Amaseia (modern Amasya), the former seat of Pontic kings, described his native region in vivid detail based on first-hand experience. His Geography 12.3–4 provides vital information about the social, environmental, and ecological situation of northern Anatolia in the early days of the empire, from the late first century bce to the early first century ce. The period from the late first to early third century ce is particularly richly documented by local authors, including the orations of Dio Chrysostom, histories by Memnon of Heraclea and Cassius Dio of Nicaea, and historical and administrative works by Arrian of Nicomedia. Pliny the Younger’s Letters to the emperor Trajan (book 10) offer unique insight into the concerns of a Roman governor in a province, where centuries-old rivalries and tensions between local aristocracies caused challenges for regional administration, and where corruption, particularly in public building projects, was a major concern (e.g., 10.16, in which Pliny audits the books in Prusa ad Olympum, or 10.43, in which delegates from Byzantium to Rome are padding their expense accounts) (Levick, 1979; Williams 1990; Walsh 2009). In this proud and high-spirited province, Trajan was cautious even over the establishment of a fire brigade (10.33–34). Taken together, these texts provide insight into issues of culture, identity, and local relationships with Rome at the time of the Second Sophistic (Madsen 2006, 2009; Bekker-Nielsen 2008). Though Pliny was sent to Bithynia and Pontus to solve thorny administrative and financial problems (Letters 10.32; Baz 2013), there are dangers in taking his book as an archive of imperial correspondence. Instead, it portrays an idealized relationship between a good governor of a flourishing, if somewhat messy, province and the “best of emperors” of a benevolent empire (Woolf 2006). Later travelers like Ibn Battutah, Evliya Çelebi, and Clavio contributed brief remarks about the region through the Middle Ages, but modern archaeological studies can be said to begin with William Hamilton’s erudite survey Researches in Asia Minor, Pontus, and Armenia (1842). Although his primary calling was geology, Hamilton carefully recorded dozens of inscriptions and other monuments on his journey through northern Anatolia in 1836, laying the groundwork for later surveys (Robinson 1905, 1906; Wilson 1960; Robert 1980; Bryer and Winfield 1985; Marek 1993, 2003; and French 2013 to highlight some of the more ambitious). Of these, the most unusual is D. R. Wilson’s (1960) Oxford undergraduate thesis, a rich source that has served many of the leading Greco-Roman archaeologists in Anatolia. Christian Marek’s surveys of inscriptions, monuments, and geography are probably the most comprehensive overviews of the Pontic Mountains to date (Marek 1993, 2003; Marek and Frei 2018). In addition, researchers in geography, local administration, and Roman road systems will benefit from David French’s surveys of Roman milestones (2013, 2016) for generations to come. The series Inschriften Griechischer Städte aus Kleinasien, started in 1972, has published full corpora of ancient inscriptions from many of the cities in Pontus and Bithynia, including Apamea in Bithynia, Claudiopolis, Heraclea Pontica (modern Ereğli), Nicaea (Iznik), Prusias ad Hypium (Konuralp), Prusa (Bursa), and Sinope (Sinop).

State of Archaeological Research Greco-Roman northern Anatolia, particularly the coast, was long neglected in terms of archaeological field research, but this has changed since the 1990s and a clearer picture of the ancient urban and rural landscape is emerging. Systematic archaeological surveys in Sinop

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(Doonan 2004; Doonan et al. 2016) and Cide (Düring and Glatz 2015) have established a baseline for understanding the fundamentals of rural settlement. Surveys outside the core of the province, such as those at Avkat (Haldon, Elton, and Newhard 2019) and Paphlagonia (Matttews and Glatz 2009), provide additional perspectives on the Anatolian hinterland. A new urban survey of Nicaea traces the remains of the best preserved of the Bithynian cities (Dalyancı-Berns 2017). Excavations at Pompeiopolis (modern Taşköprü; Summerer 2011) and Neoclaudiopolis (Vezirköprü; Bekker-Nielsen et al. 2015) are shedding light on the inland cities consolidated under the lex Pompeia, while those at the coastal cities of Tieion (Atasoy and Yıldırım 2015a, b) and Sinope – including Sinop Kale (Doonan et al. 2017), modern Demirci plaj (Kassab Tezgör 2010), and Balatlar Kilise (Köroğlu 2017) – provide limited windows into the Roman economy and infrastructure of the rich Greek colonial ports of the Black Sea. Though the overall archaeological picture is still fragmentary, two recent developments offer great promise for the future. First, a number of international-Turkish partnerships have organized major projects both along the coast (including those mentioned above at Tieion, Cide, and Sinope) and in the interior (Hadrianopolis, Pompeiopolis, Neoclaudiopolis) that should provide baseline data for more comprehensive research programs going forward. Second, museums and local universities have expanded considerably, with new archaeology departments that can potentially invigorate local research springing up in medium-sized towns like Kocaeli, Sinop, Çorum, Kastamonu, and Bartin. These trends bode well for expanding the density of coverage to something approximating that of the better-known parts of Turkey and the Mediterranean, and for engagement of local archaeology with broader international discourses, though our interpretations are bound to change as data gathering and research in the region advance.

Geography, Climate, and Resources The geography of Bithynia and Pontus, including its physical structure, ecology, climate, and cultural geography, is distinctive if not unique. Natural resources combined with easy access to a well-integrated network of Black Sea ports permitted the coastal cities to flourish.

Physical Geography: The Coast The Black Sea coastal region is comprised of a long seaside strip with, for the most part, limited access to extensive agricultural land (Olshausen 1984, 2014). The Black Sea coast is steep and rocky, with a few coastal plains, the most notable being the Sinop promontory and the deltas of the Halys (modern Kızılırmak) and Iris (Yeşlırmak) rivers. These and the Sangarios River provided the most direct access to the interior of Anatolia from the coast.

Mountains Mountains dominate inland northern Anatolia, and vary considerably across the region. In western Bithynia, isolated high (1000 m+) peaks like Mysian Olympus loom over fertile alluvial plains. From eastern Bithynia all the way across Anatolia, the coastal range of Eocene flysch mountains rises steeply from the coast to heights of ca. 1500–1700 m. The soft sedimentary bedrock shows dramatic folding due to seismic activity along the North Anatolian Fault system, and high rainfall in the mountains has incised deep gorges on the north slopes from the watershed to the sea. The Ilgaz mountain chain looms above the



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east–west oriented North Anatolian Fault rift valley from the south, rising to a maximum elevation of ca. 2600 m at Mt. Olgassys (modern Ilgaz). This valley is notable for its fertility, and has functioned as the primary terrestrial communication route in northern Anatolia since the Bronze Age. These rugged mountains have been sparsely populated since antiquity and there was little traffic across them from Hellenistic through Ottoman times, with the exception of the few major rivers and limited road crossings mentioned above. Strabo (Geography 12.8.8) noted how the mountain forests of the region provided shelter to bands of brigands.

Rivers and Deltas The rivers and river valleys of north Anatolia were fundamental to the region’s geography, as described in all ancient geographic texts (e.g., Arrian, Strabo, Xenophon) about the southern Black Sea region. Two large deltas, of the Halys and Iris rivers, dominate eastern Pontus near the center of the Black Sea littoral, while smaller arable deltas have formed at the mouths of deeply incised river canyons along the western coast. A few Greek colonies formed adjacent to these river outlets (e.g., Parthenos and Amastris near the Parthenios outlet), but in most cases, though river mouths offered excellent agricultural potential, they were not chosen to be the sites of major cities and towns. This pattern suggests that for the most part, the Greek colonial system was established with a strong maritime outlook and with little emphasis on engaging indigenous economic partners. On the other hand, the results of the Sinop Regional Survey may provide an enlightening example of a Roman road that followed an indigenous communications route to unite a riverine community (Doonan 2019). A town was situated at the intersection of a coastal road (French C1) and a transmontane road (French C7) that seems to follow an Iron Age path terminating at the mouth of the Kırkgeçit çayı river (Doonan 2019). Initial contact appears to have been through an indigenous settlement near the river mouth; this was followed by the establishment of a Hellenistic site with more pronounced nonlocal character on the coast, which eventually grew into a substantial Roman and late Roman town (Doonan et al. 2016). At present, however, it does not appear that coastal towns and Roman road systems were located with the intention to engage with indigenous river communities.

Ecology and Climate The variegated physical geography of northern Turkey creates one of the most diverse ecological regions in the Roman world. Coastal mountains such as Uludağı (Olympus) and the Pontic Alps capture the moisture of the winds that prevail NW-SE off the Black Sea, making this the rainiest part of Anatolia. Annual rainfall averages along the coast range from 800 to 1200 mm in the west to nearly 2500 mm in the east, near Trabzon and Rize. For the most part, temperate Oceanic climate (Koppen type Cfb) predominates in the Pontic mountains and the coastal strip. Pockets of temperate humid subtropical climate (Koppen type Cfa), on the Sinop promontory and the deltas of the Halys (modern Kızılırmak) and Iris (Yeşilırmak) rivers, were noted by Strabo (Geography 2.1.15) as the only places in the region where olives were grown. The climate south of the Pontic mountains is continental hot summer Mediterranean type (Koppen type Dsa) in the mountains and is considerably drier, with annual rainfall averages ranging from 200 to 400 mm. Warm summer Mediterranean climate (Koppen types Csa and Csb) typical of western Anatolia predominates in Bithynia and to the south of the mountains. One of the most notable features of the region is the combination of very fertile land and highly diversified microclimates. Together these created an unusually rich potential for production of specialized high-value agricultural crops.

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Natural Resources The mountains of Bithynia and Pontus were known for their timber, fruits and nuts, and mineral resources. The western half of the Anatolian Black Sea coast was noted as one of the most important sources of timber in antiquity as early as the time of Theophrastus (fourth century bce). The central and eastern mountains were famed for mining and metal production (de Jesus 1978, 1980). Chalybs, the Latin word for steel, derived from the Pontic mountain tribe the Chalybes, who were renowned for iron and silver production (Strabo, Geography 12.3.19– 20). The copper sources most relevant to the economy of Bithynia and Pontus were in the area of Kure dağı near modern Kastamonu and around modern Merzifon in the mountainous northeast. These sources had been exploited from as early as the fourth millennium bce; more research has focused on prehistoric mining and metallurgy than on that of the Roman period. There were also silver and iron deposits in the northeast (de Jesus 1978). Although many of the mines were situated beyond the formal borders of Augustus’ reorganized Pontus and Bithynia, metals had been distributed through the coastal networks since Greek colonial times and so had profound importance for the economy of the region (Doonan 2003). Miltos or sinopis was an arsenical red pigment (realgar) mined in the vicinity of Pompeiopolis and exported through Sinope. Although highly toxic, it was used for painting, architectural drafting, and a host of medical treatments (Vitruvius 7.7; Pliny the Elder, Natural History 35.12–13). Although the island Proconnesos (Marmara) lies outside the formal boundaries of Bithynia, its gray-streaked white marble was one of the most important and widely exported commodities of the region, and Ward-Perkins has argued persuasively that its production and trade was managed in Nicomedia (Ward-Perkins 1980, 1992; Karagianni 2011). The organization of quarrying, sculpting, and export was complex, and although larger-scale operations were most likely under imperial control, trade in private monuments, sculpture, and especially sarcophagi may have been organized by local entrepreneurs. It is intriguing to consider Pliny’s discussion (Letters 10.41–42, 61–62) of an ambitious canal project to connect the Sangarios (Sakarya) River to Nicomedia’s port via Askania (Iznik gölü) in the context of marble transport between the Anatolian interior and the Black Sea. Nicomedia also had marble quarries within its own territory, including specialty pink marbles from Vezirhan. The abundant forests in the area also supplied timber for the shipbuilding industry, essential to the long-distance marble trade (Güney 2015). Extensive marble quarries recently discovered 3 km north of Nicaea may have been developed initially in the context of local building programs like the theater mentioned by Pliny (Letters 10.39; Bruno et al. 2012): its massive cost (ten million sesterces) and engineering flaws threatened to derail the project, and a local marble source would have gone a long way to mitigating construction expenses. Fishing has long been an important component of the economy and helped integrate a maritime Black Sea community from the Bronze Age onward (Doonan et al. 2016). Although the variety of economically significant fish species in the Black Sea is rather low, several important species were abundant and traveled along the coast following a regular annual sequence. A fourth century ce mosaic from a house in Sinope showed the passage of time using local fish: a rather ordinary representation of the Seasons was enhanced by a circular feature illustrating the species of fish that cycled by on their annual migrations. Textual and archaeological evidence link the export of pelamydes (bonito) and anchovies with Sinope (Doonan 2003; Doonan et al. 2016). Large tuna and mackerel (Aelian, Animals 15.3) as well as mullet (Athenaeus, Deipnosophistae 3.118c, 7.307b) were associated with the central and west Anatolian coast of the Black Sea. Pliny the Elder (Natural History 9.18) discussed the salting of fish from this region for export, while Diodorus Siculus (37.3.5) mentioned the dizzying price of 400 drachmai for a jar of salted Pontic fish.



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The coast of the Black Sea to the west of Sinope was considered to be one of the richest sources of shipbuilding timber in the greater Mediterranean (Theophrastus, Enquiry into Plants 4.5.3–5; Strabo, Geography 12.3.12; Meiggs 1982). Polyaenus (Strategems 7.21.2,5) mentioned the great numbers of craftsmen, woodworkers, and shipbuilders at Sinope, and the tradition of hand-built wooden ships continues in several towns in the vicinity of Gideros (modern Cide). This shipbuilding industry began by the Early Bronze Age (ca. 2300 bce), when we have evidence of an itinerant fishing community (Doonan et al. 2016). According to Strabo and Theophrastus, cited above, not only was the timber of good quality and variety but it was easy to convey to the coast (Doonan 2003). Tall firs prized as masts could be cut at the middle elevations of the coastal mountains and sent down the seasonal rivers when they ran full in spring (Doonan 2003). Indigenous communities had long exploited the forest fruits and nuts from the coastal mountains. The Romans were introduced to the cherry by Lucullus following his victories along the Black Sea coast of Anatolia (Pliny the Elder, Natural History 15.30). In fact, the English word “cherry” is derived from the name of the town Kerasus (modern Giresun) that was most closely associated with their production. The hazelnut (Greek karyon pontikon) was also strongly associated with this region, which still produces well over half of the world’s supply. As mentioned, Strabo (Geography, 2.1.5) wrote that the central coast near Sinope was the only part of the Black Sea region where olives flourished, and (12.3.12) that the coastal plains were all planted with olive (Doonan 2003). This important industry is documented by the widespread export of Sinopean amphorae, which intensified in the late Roman-early Byzantine period (Kassab Tezgör 2010; Doonan et al. 2016).

Social Context and Pre-Roman Settlement The Roman community of Bithynia and Pontus was superimposed upon a pre-Roman substratum that included the fiercely independent local kingdoms of Bithynia and of Pontus, dominating the territory to the west and the mountainous regions, respectively, and a network of Greek port cities that maintained trade and limited political relations within the Black Sea area. From the early first millennium bce onward, the major indigenous power centers, secluded in the mountains and looking onto the rift valley, were a counterpoint to the Greek colonial cities of the coast. Local semi-independent indigenous communities appear to have been organized along the series of deeply incised river valleys running south to north along the entire coast (Doonan 2019). The pattern of settlement in the mountains and the north Anatolian rift valley was primarily one of fortified hilltop citadels with associated settlements and industrial installations (Johnson 2010). The potential for sudden coordinated action over these extensive territories was most dramatically illustrated by the brutal massacres of 80,000– 150,000 Romans in western Anatolia in the so-called “Asiatic vespers” of 88 bce (Appian Mithridatic Wars 22–23; Plutarch, Sulla 24.4).

Roman Conquest and Provincial Organization The stubborn resistance of these areas during the Mithridatic wars demonstrated Rome’s need to reorganize the settlement and social dynamics of the north Anatolian indigenous and Greek-speaking communities. The resulting systematic program of plunder, destruction, and resettlement neutralized a region that still threatened resistance due to the wild nature of the mountains and the deeply rooted social identities of local communities. Looting conquered

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cities not only enriched the victorious generals, their armies, and Rome, but also helped erase the inhabitants’ non-Roman identities. For example, when Lucullus plundered the archives and library of Mithridates VI, he was not merely building his own personal library of Greek books (Plutarch, Lucullus 22.4, 42.1–2) but obliterating a crucial monument of the learning and culture of the Pontic kingdom (Polanski 2013). The seizure of the statue of Autolykos, founder of Ionian Sinope (Strabo, Geography 12.3.11), offers a particularly blatant example of looting in order to erase memory and identity. Triumphs by Lucullus and Pompey dazzled the people of Rome with the astonishing treasures seized from Mithridates VI; some of those objects then adorned the public spaces endowed by the generals (Lucullus’ Gardens and the Porticus of Pompey) in Rome itself (Plutarch, Lucullus 27.3–4, 39.2; Appian, Mithridatic Wars 116, 570; Polanski 2013). Fortification walls were even more fundamental to the identity of an ancient city than its libraries and artistic adornments. A beautiful and intimidating wall functioned not only as a defensive system, but as a vehicle of civic pride embodying the city’s autonomous spirit. Recent studies have demonstrated that after Rome’s conquest, Sinope’s Hellenistic wall, studded with towers and bristling with catapult and arrow ports, was effectively neutralized by replacing nearly all of its towers with fine arches (Rempel and Doonan, Forthcoming). It is not clear whether this emasculated structure was the beautiful city wall praised by Strabo (Geography 12.3.11), reduced to a decorative shell. The construction of unwalled cities under Roman administration may well have underscored their dependence on pax Romana for survival. The impact of Roman conquest was even more stunning in the interior. The predominant Iron Age and Hellenistic settlement pattern along the north Anatolian rift valley had been based on fortified rocky outcrops with extensive tunneling and marked by monumental tombs (Marek 1993; Doonan 2019). These strongholds, much like the fortified cities of the coast, posed a threat to Roman control, and in the wake of the conquest all were destroyed and abandoned, their populations resettled in new foundations like Pompeiopolis and Neapolis (Roman Neoclaudiopolis) set in plains at the base of the valley. There is some evidence that the early stages of urban formation were already in motion under Mithridates VI (Summerer and von Kienlin 2013; Bekker-Nielsen et al. 2015). In any case, the limited survey evidence available to date lines up favorably with the historical consensus that urbanization in northern Anatolia was a deliberate policy of Roman conquest and an instrument of Roman control (e.g., Mitchell 1993, 92). As mentioned, these new cities were built within the context of a peace secured by Roman dominion, which made fortifications not only superfluous but even undesirable. Most of the few surviving fragments of the widely discussed but poorly understood provincial charter, the lex Pompeia, were concerned with stabilizing civic citizenship and the local elites of the emergent urban network in the frontier between Pontus and Paphlagonia (Marshall 1968).

Intellectuals and Society under the Roman Empire Surviving works and fragments by a remarkable series of Bithynian intellectuals who rose to prominence in the second and early third century ce provide a glimpse into the complex dynamics of cultural and civic identity in the province (Madsen 2006; Woolf 2006). Each of them identified strongly with Greek intellectual and literary heritage, yet rose to prominence in the Roman political community. Early in his career, the orator Dio Chrysostom of Prusa extolled the benefits of supporting Roman rule in a famous address to the Alexandrians (Orations 32), though after experiencing tribulations under Domitian’s reign, he critiqued the theory of the Emperor’s divinity, and later asked Trajan to support the autonomy of Prusa



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(Madsen 2006). Lucius Flavianus Arrianus from Nicomedia, known as Arrian, styled himself as a new Xenophon and wrote on Greek-related topics like the Anabasis of Alexander, but also served as suffect consul and governor of Cappadocia under Hadrian, to whom he addressed his Voyage Around the Pontus Euxinus. Cassius Dio of Nicaea served as consul twice and governed several provinces in the early third century, even accompanying Caracalla on his Parthian campaign, particularly during his stay in Nicomedia in 215/216 ce (Roman History 18.17–18). Dio’s Roman History, written in Greek, can be straightforward in its criticism of tyrannical emperors, but does not make a case against Roman rule. Each of these Bithynian intellectuals rose high in the ranks of Roman society, retaining strong Bithynian/Greek identity, yet ultimately invested in the Roman hegemony (Madsen 2006).

Organizing the Landscape Roads Study of the Roman road systems of Anatolia has a long history, thanks in part to good preservation of the roads themselves and the robust body of evidence provided by milestones, especially the corpus published by David French (Munro 1901; French 2013, 2016). Taking the dates of milestone inscriptions as a rough proxy, it may be possible to trace major phases of road construction and repair in the province of Pontus and Bithynia (Figures 20.1, 20.2). The road French F-2 is the land backbone of the region: Nicomedia – Prusa ad Hypium – Claudiopolis – Hadrianopolis – Pompeiopolis – Neoclaudiopolis and farther east. The dates of the milestones imply that this road was established in the early empire and was maintained more or less consistently from the first through fourth centuries ce. A coastal road (French C1) supplemented the longstanding regional practice of contact primarily by water: Thracian Bosphorus – Heraclea – Tium – Amastris – Ionopolis – Sinope – Amisos, and continuing eastward. The great majority of the milestones along this road cluster in the late third through mid-fourth centuries, suggesting that this infrastructure was primarily developed in conjunction with the growth of new metropoleis, first at Nicomedia and later at Byzantium/ Constantinople. The milestones in mountain passes show a similar chronological distribution. The transmontane road systems focused on linking the coastal cities to the interior trunk road (F2), transforming the pre-Roman system of communications (French B4, C4, C5, C6). Most of these roads departed wholly or in part from the natural transportation corridors along rivers that had been active since the Iron Age, although French C3 connecting Prusias ad Hypium to the coast and French C7 linking Sinope to F2 following the Kırkgeçit Çayı River Valley appear to be exceptions to this rule. Roads in Bithynia appear to have been maintained consistently over time, while the “Pilgrim Road” (French P1) from Nicomedia to the central Anatolian plateau seems to have received a lot of investment in the early third century, possibly in connection with Caracalla’s Parthian campaign of 216–217 ce. Although the sample is far from statistically representative, and various historical, cultural and political factors appear to skew toward the later phases, a few significant patterns may be teased out of this data set. First, not all of these road systems received equal investment at all times. All seem to have been furnished with milestones (albeit few) in Flavian times, except for the “Pilgrim Road” P1, whose early milestones coincided with the start of Trajan’s Parthian campaigns in 115 ce. There appears to have been little activity during most of the second century until the very end, when Septimius Severus recognized the support of Nicomedia in his struggle for imperial power (Herodian 3.2.7–9). At this time Nicomedia was awarded the title neokoros for the second time, served as the staging ground for Severan landings, and had such high favor that Caracalla wintered there in 215/216 ce

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Figure 20.2  Distribution of Roman milestones broken down by date. By Owen Doonan, formatted by John Wallrodt.

(Bekker-Nielsen 2008, 147–155). Under the circumstances it is hardly surprising to see the upgrading of interior and “Pilgrim” roads in the first quarter of the third century. All of the roads except the western Bithynian system show a remarkable peak of milestone inscriptions during the Tetrarchy (late third to early fourth century). Again, this is not surprising given the establishment of an imperial residence at Nicomedia prior to the foundation of Constantinople in 330 ce. French rightly calls attention to the role of the Praeses Ponti Aurelius Priscianus, who was particularly active in the areas around Sinope and Amaseia (French 2013, 172–173). Particular attention was given to the transmontane roads in light of the intensification of agricultural production on the Sinop promontory during the fourth century (Doonan 2015). The upgrading of the road system after the foundation of Constantinople may be connected to a broader infrastructural investment seen across the region overall (Doonan 2015; Cassis et al. 2018). The famous road monument of the strategos C. Julius Aquila along an extension of coastal road C1, 4 km above Amastris, includes reliefs of an unnamed and now headless togate figure and an eagle with spread wings surmounting a column, two inscriptions praising the emperor Claudius and Aquila as sponsor of the monument, and a fountain (Marek 2003, 48). The form of the monument, carved into an impressive columnar granite outcrop, is reminiscent of such late Iron Age rock-carved tombs as those at nearby Salar köy and Donalar (Marek 1993; Summerer 2015), while the iconography and function are thoroughly Roman.

Extra-Urban Sanctuaries The high peaks of the Pontic mountains have provided shelter and inspiration for millennia. Strabo (Geography 12.3.40) remarked that the lands around Mount Olgassys were impassable but furnished with the most sacred temples of the Paphlagonians. Several highland temples and sanctuaries of this nature have been recorded, although none have been fully excavated (Marek 1993, 2003; Doonan 2009; Summerer 2014). Two sanctuaries in the east of Bithynia and Pontus, in the mountains of northern Anatolia, provide the best-documented examples: Yassiçal tepesi near the Pontic Kingdom’s capital at Amaseia (Williamson 2014), and Çirişli



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tepe, set on a peak not far from the road French F1, 40 km southwest of Amisos (modern Samsun; Summerer 2014). Yassiçal tepesi consists of a massive 50 m × 50 m open-air altar platform within a roughly circular precinct 250 m in diameter. Williamson (2014), following Cumont (1901), suggested that this was the Sanctuary of Zeus Stratios. Çirişli tepe is more modest in size (ca. 150 m2), essentially a precinct surrounding an open-air altar. A cache of lamps and terracotta figurines representing bovines and humans was spirited off to the British Museum in the 1880s, and a first century ce inscription may record a gift to Apollo Didymaeus by a Roman, Casperius Aelianus. Summerer (2014) rightly emphasized the indigenous character of the sanctuary despite the dedication to Apollo, a deity closely associated with the Ionian colonies of the coast. A similar installation has been documented at Asar tepe, looming above the coast near Road C7 on the Sinop promontory, where the Sinop Museum collected a few dozen fragments of bovine figurines and ceramics that indicate Hellenistic and Roman activity. An inscription dedicated to Zeus Dikaiosynos found at the nearby town of Gerze may suggest the identity of the god of the sanctuary (French 2004 no. 75; Doonan 2009). A temple structure about 70 km inland from Amastris, overlooking the Roman road C6, measured roughly 15 m × 20 m. A third-century ce dedication by Marcus Aurelius Alexandros identified Zeus Bonitenos as the deity venerated there. The dedicator was a Pontarch and Bithyniarch from Nicomedia, attesting to the importance of this temple to the integration of the province (Summerer 2014). These examples point to a consistent use of mountaintop sanctuaries to organize the landscape in the remote areas of Bithynia and Pontus. They demonstrate the persistence of longstanding indigenous religious practices yet also establish anchors in the wild landscape of the high Pontic range. The relationship to Roman roads is as yet not clear. Sanctuaries may have tended to be more common close to the river systems along which indigenous communities were organized.

Settlement Pattern Case Study: Sinop Region Several recent systematic archaeological surveys provide a glimpse into the organization of the agricultural countryside surrounding the major cities of the region. The Sinop Regional Archaeological Project (SRAP) has recorded settlement evidence in several distinct topographical and ecological zones on the Sinop promontory from the early Holocene to the Ottoman period. The survey area encompasses approximately 500 km2 in total, including urban, suburban, agricultural, and marginal zones in approximately one thousand survey tracts (Doonan 2003, 2004, 2015; Doonan et al. 2016). It provides one of the best data sets in the province for understanding the relationship of an important town with its hinterland and the engagement of the hinterland with the wider Roman world. The aggregated site count over the entire survey area indicated a dramatic expansion of settlement evidence during the late Roman phase (fourth to seventh century ce). In Sinope, this expansion was associated with intensive olive production and followed by an even more dramatic collapse after the seventh century ce (Doonan 2015). The overall pattern conforms to trends often noted in Anatolia generally, but the aggregated site counts obscure significant local countertrends. For example, settlement appears to have decreased in the suburban area of Boztepe and in the highlands at the same time that it expanded in the coastal plains and along the coasts. Local economic and transportation factors are likely to have brought about the discrepancies between aggregate and local trends. For example, greater emphasis on seaborne trade at the height of the late Roman expansion may have reduced traffic along the highland road systems, making them less attractive for settlement, while changes in the

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organization of agricultural systems and the economic significance of high-value crops (particularly olives) may have produced shifts in suburban settlement from the Roman imperial to late Roman phases or during the Middle Byzantine recovery.

Suburbs Two distinct zones in the immediate vicinity of Sinope may be termed suburban, each with a distinct ecology and economy. The headland of Boztepe overlooks the city from the east and is exposed to wind and rain brought in by prevailing weather patterns over the Black Sea, while the coast to the south of the city tends to be sheltered from cold and storms and has a warmer and drier microclimate. Strabo (Geography 12.3.12) observed that this south coast was planted extensively with olives, a crop that is impossible to grow around other parts of the Black Sea (Doonan 2003). The ease and speed of communication by sea between this coast and the main port of Sinope, together with evidence of numerous suburban luxury villas dating to late Roman times, justify its classification as a suburban zone, even though the distance between them is greater than that typically found elsewhere. On the headland of Boztepe, the natural suburban area of the city, evidence for dispersed agricultural settlement is widespread during the Hellenistic and imperial Roman phases, while there is significantly less evidence for settlement in the late Roman and subsequent periods. This appears to reflect a shift from wine production and market gardens on Boztepe to an intensified cash-crop economy based on olives in the coastal valleys to the south of Sinope (Doonan et al. 2015). A mix of finely appointed late Roman villas and churches formed the administrative infrastructure of industrial-scale olive production, from a system based on free-holding farmers (also noted by Strabo) to an estate-based industrial production system that helped supply the new economy centered on Constantinople starting in the fourth century ce (Doonan 2015).

Rural-Agricultural Zone The highest densities of extra-urban finds were documented in the coastal plains and valleys south of Sinope (specifically the Demirci, Karasu, and Kırkgeçit Çayı valleys), at elevations below 300 m, during the late Roman and early Byzantine periods (fourth to seventh centuries ce). This phase is highly visible in part because of the widespread use of high-fired roof tiles on many kinds of buildings, in contrast to earlier and later periods. The widespread distribution of finds resembles the industrial-scale agriculture of imperial Roman North Africa (Stone, Mattingly, and Ben Lazreg 2011; Doonan 2015). It has already been noted several times that the coast south of Sinope was largely devoted to olives as early as the first century bce, but the late Roman record demonstrates significant intensification (Doonan 2003, 2004). Studies of pollen and data from the Franco-Turkish excavations at the Demirci coastal site show a spike in olive pollen during the fourth and fifth centuries (Emery-Barbier 2010). Sinopean amphorae produced at Demirci plaj are among the most common imports throughout the Black Sea, reflecting the region’s predominant position in the production of the important commodity of olive oil from the fourth to seventh centuries ce (Kassab-Tezgör 2010).

Marginal Rural Zone Marginal highland zones of the Kırkgeçit Çayı and Sarımsaklı Çayı valleys show evidence of extensive Iron Age and Hellenistic settlement. Based on the SRAP surveys, there is very little evidence of late Roman settlement in the highlands, although it may be observed that some Roman imperial and late Roman remains have been noted in the opportunistic site visits made by the Sinop Museum staff over the past twenty-five years (Doonan et al. 2015).



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Discussion and Synthesis Overall, the results from SRAP are consistent with historical evidence for changing economic and communications infrastructures. The Roman imperial situation (first century bce to early fourth century ce) appears most consistent with a dispersed agricultural landscape, prosperous but not highly intensified and most likely organized in a system of freehold farming. The protected nature of Boztepe and its proximity to the main port encouraged agricultural settlement, very likely for wine production, to flourish. From the fourth to the seventh centuries ce, a remarkable expansion in settlement along the eastern half of the Sinop promontory took advantage of its distinctive microclimate, establishing large estates on the coast for industrial-scale olive production. Intensification of coastal transport networks may have caused settlement around the upland road systems to decline during the fifth and sixth centuries. Agriculture, including olive cultivation, appears to have been practiced in the interior foothills along the Kırkgeçit Çayı River, but not so much around the Sarımsaklı Çayı. Overall, local patterns of development over time are more diverse and depend more on local factors, rather than fitting closely into the sort of model that a more summary approach to the data would suggest.

Urbanism The coastal cities of Bithynia and Pontus had proud and distinguished histories, and their architecture proclaimed their glory. Most of these cities have been continuously occupied through the Byzantine and Ottoman periods and beyond, so unfortunately they are now encased in concrete and asphalt. Notable exceptions include Tieion and Pompeiopolis, both the subject of recent excavations (Summerer 2011; Yıldırım 2017). Still, our understanding of the organization and major urban features of cities in the region is fragmentary. The Greek cities of both the Black Sea coast and Bithynia appear to have been, for the most part, well designed and fortified according to the norms of Classical and late Classical Greek colonies elsewhere. Nicaea, Sinope, and Heraclea Pontica had well-developed grid plans and fortifications before the Roman conquest (Figure 20.3A, B, D; Hoepfner 1966; Doonan 2004; Dalyancı-Berns 2017). Amastris seems to have had limited space arranged in a grid, probably due to the overall irregularity of the site (Marek 2003). Tieion, on the other hand, does not appear to have been organized in an obvious grid plan (Figure 20.3E). The town was tucked into a narrow terrace overlooking a coastal landing beneath a looming acropolis crowned with a third century ce temple, possibly dedicated to Zeus (Baran, Dirlik, and Kendirci 2015; Yıldırım 2015).

Bithynia Nicomedia was one of two great rival cities of Bithynia, and played a leading role from the establishment of the province Bithynia (74 bce) to being named by Diocletian as capital of the eastern empire in 284 ce. It was particularly well placed to dominate the Roman transport system, set directly on the easternmost extension of the Propontis at the head of the road systems along the north Anatolian rift valley. Despite its prominence, very little archaeological evidence survives for the overall organization and layout of ancient Nicomedia, which has been leveled by numerous earthquakes and is now very difficult to distinguish beneath the modern industrial city of Izmit. Nevertheless, archaeological rescue and survey in the wake of the 1999 earthquake have revealed its great potential (Foss 1996). The spectacular discovery of a massive early Diocletianic monument with exceptionally preserved colored reliefs provides a first glimpse of the monumentalization of Nicomedia as a new capital city (Şare Ağtürk

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Figure 20.3  Comparison of city plans in Bithynia and Pontus. By John Wallrodt. A: Nicaea (from plan courtesy of Ayşe Dalyancı). B: Heraclea Pontica (from Hoepfner and Schwandner 1992). C: Pompeiopolis (from plan courtesy of Lâtife Summerer and Pompeiopolis excavations). D: Sinope, from plan by Owen Doonan. E: Tieion (from plan courtesy of Şahin Yildirim).



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2018; see below). A recent survey (Çalık Ross 2007) showed that Nicomedia was integrated into the rich surrounding territory through more than twenty sections of aqueducts and an extensive network of roads and bridges; even a canal was contemplated by Pliny the Younger and Trajan (Pliny, Letters 10.41–42, 61–62) but apparently never completed. The survey also documented a massive theater in Nicomedia: its estimated 164 m span would certainly be in keeping with the city’s importance, as it is not just 1.5 times the size of that of Nicomedia’s local rival Nicaea, but ca. 25 m broader than the theater at Ephesos and 15 m larger than even the Theater of Pompey in Rome. It is tempting to speculate that a theater of this scale (or that in Ephesos) would have great potential to host an especially grand gathering of citizens in the event of an imperial visit (adventus). Nicomedia’s rival city Nicaea (Figure 20.3A) is better preserved and far more visible. The fortification walls completely encircle the city, which still maintains its ancient grid plan, described by Strabo (Geography 12.4.7) as centered on the Gymnasium, where a stone marked the point from which all four main city gates could be seen. This design centering on a gymnasium and following Hippodamian principles suggests that the plan and early wall were established in Hellenistic times (Dalyancı-Berns 2017). In a letter to Trajan (10.39), Pliny mentioned a plan to rebuild Nicaea’s gymnasium and an unfinished theater on which more than ten million sesterces had already been spent. Following an earthquake ca. 123 ce, Hadrian began the rebuilding of the city wall, which carried on into the third century, when it was reconstructed and strengthened following the sack of the city in 258 ce (DalyancıBerns 2017). Recent underwater investigations by Uludağı University and the Bursa Museum have recorded an early Christian basilica that the excavators have linked to the Council of Nicaea in 325 ce (Şahin and Fairchild 2018). Discovery of second-century architectural ceramics and other finds have also led the excavator to speculate that the church was built over a temple to Apollo constructed under Commodus (Şahin 2017).

The Pontic Coast The cities on the coast had a vibrant history as Greek colonies within a flourishing Black Sea community, and their traditions of naval rivalry and trade required them to be well fortified and furnished with good harbors. After they were conquered during Lucullus’s expedition in 70 bce, however, their formidable maritime military potential was seen as more of a liability than a benefit. Their plans are highly varied, adapted to the potential of each city’s history and site. Those with sufficient buildable space (Heraclea, Sinope) were constructed with grid plans in the pre-Roman phase, while those in more constrained landscapes (Amastris, Tieion) adapted as well as they could. The ancient plans of Sinope, Heraclea, and to a lesser extent Amastris can be traced in the modern streets of these cities. The Sinope city plan was clearly a grid based on the decumanus that entered through the Hellenistic city gates and still provides the main thoroughfare of modern Sinop (Figure 20.3D). Nearly all of the extant streets within the area of the ancient city fit into this grid plan based on ca. 50 × 70 m city blocks. A late Roman extension of the grid plan to the east of the Archaic-Hellenistic urban area has its grid on a slightly different orientation. Farther east and upslope on the Boztepe headland, it appears that there was no such grid plan, although a monumental district marked by a bath building and monumental Hellenistic structures is as yet not well defined. As noted above, the grid plan of Heraclea (Figure 20.3B) can still be traced in the modern city, and there are sufficient traces of the (fragmentary) city wall for its basic outlines to be established. Unlike Sinope’s, the wall of Heraclea formed a circuit around the city, with an acropolis overlooking the urban area from within. The extant walls show a long history of

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change and development, from presumed foundation in pre-Roman times to mostly late antique renovations visible today. To the north of the city, the caves known as the Gates of the Acheron are marked with Roman architectural fragments and late antique mosaics, which suggest continued use as a sacred space into Christian times (Akkaya 1994). The city plans of Tieion and Amastris are more difficult to discern, and it is possible that they had a slightly different historical trajectory than classic colonial foundations like Sinope and Heraclea. Founded as the colony Sesamos during the Archaic period, Amastris was consolidated with several smaller coastal cities and renamed for Queen Amastris, wife of Dionysius tyrant of Heraclea, in the fourth century bce (Strabo, Geography 12.3.10). The site is too irregular for a complete grid plan, although surveys have demonstrated that at least one central district was planned along a main north–south thoroughfare that proceeded from the harbor to a market building (Hoffmann 1989; Marek 2003). A few modern streets run roughly parallel to this cardo, as do some extant paths, suggesting that at least the central part of the city had a Hippodamian plan. The surviving fortifications are all late and do not appear to conform to an earlier Hellenistic or Roman phase of the city. A large Hellenistic-Roman structure is set on the westernmost of the headlands that shelter Amastris’s harbor. Marek (2003) argued that this was probably a temple of Zeus Strategos, in part based on the numerous Roman bronze coin issues featuring the god, while Summerer (2014) reserved judgment on this interpretation. Also thought to have been dedicated to Zeus is a temple on the acropolis of Tieion, overlooking the harbor (Figure 20.3E; Baran, Dirlik, and Kendirci 2015; see below). The ancient harbor is relatively well preserved, defined by two 6-m-wide cyclopean moles that each extend about 100 m into the sea (Atasoy and Yıldırım 2015a). A theater and aqueduct have been recorded, but little is known about the residential parts of the town. No clear evidence is known to suggest a grid-planned settlement or a substantial fortification system. Strabo (Geography 12.3.8) called the town not notable, and it may be that Tieion developed primarily during imperial times, when, as noted above, effective fortifications may not have been seen as necessary or even desirable.

Pompeian Foundations Inland Prior to the Roman conquest and settlement under the lex Pompeia, the inhabitants of the mountains and the north Anatolian rift valley lived in a pattern dominated by fortified hilltop citadels with associated settlements and industrial installations (Johnson 2010). Many of these citadels were dug into outcrops marked by dynastic rock-cut monuments expressing local power through a hybrid Perso-Greek iconography (Marek 2003; Doonan 2019). Although the dominance of any one of these relatively modest strongholds was limited, intertribal alliances could be called on to assemble a powerful force on short notice (Xenophon, Anabasis 5.6.9). In contrast to the grid-planned Bithynian and Ionian cities of the coast, the inland cities founded or expanded in the wake of Pompey’s reorganization appear to have evolved gradually and are certainly not fortified. Pompeiopolis, the best-documented Pompeian foundation along the rift valley south of the coastal range, seems to follow a more organic pattern of development (Figure 20.3C; von Kienlin 2011). The geophysical survey at Pompeiopolis, confirmed by excavation, does not suggest a rigid grid plan in the public center of the city (Fassbinder 2011; von Kienlin 2011; Summerer 2011). Instead there was a central cluster of monumental structures, including a market, bath, and larger and smaller theater. Bithynium/Claudiopolis appears to have had a similarly irregular plan. Finds in the center of the modern town of Bolu include one or perhaps two theater structures, a peripteral temple, a bath building, and at least two necropoleis strung along a main road (Karagülle



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2019). A monumental center consisting of a temple set above a stadium appears to have been founded by Hadrian after the death in 130 ce of his favorite Antinous, a native son of the city. An octastyle temple appears on the city’s coins under Hadrian (RPC III.1109); later coins (for example RPC VI.3654) show what may be the same temple with a cult image reminiscent of the Braschi Antinous excavated at Hadrian’s villa at Praeneste (Vatican Museums, Pio Clementino inventory 256). The Bithynium/Claudiopolis complex may have served as one of the main centers of Antinous’ posthumous cult for more than a century (Lambert 1984, 187–195).

Civic Architecture City Walls Fortifications were among the proudest adornments of an ancient city, though in Roman times city walls functioned as a mark of wealth and prestige rather than as a functional defensive system. Under the umbrella of Pax Romana, impressive city walls hearkened back to a distinguished past, expressed a sense of community cohesiveness, and clarified the interface between urban and suburban spaces. Extant remains of city walls can be found within the modern cities of Izmit (Nicomedia), Iznik (Nicaea), Bursa (Prusa), and Ereğli (Heraclea). Effective Roman period fortification walls do not appear to have been built until the third century ce, when cities like Nicomedia, Nicaea, and Prusias ad Hypium needed once again to defend themselves (Foss 1996). Across the classical world, the most typical use of suburban space was to pack cemeteries along the streets running out of town. Few clear urban-suburban interfaces survive in Bithynia and Pontus; those of Bithynium/Claudiopolis, Nicomedia, and Tieion, for example, are rather obscure. The exception is Sinope’s well-preserved fortification walls, with cemeteries dating from the Archaic period onward to their west. Countless modest Roman tombs, for the most part lined with roof tiles, followed along the main road out of the city; these have been recorded since the 1960s. Two more recent excavations by the Sinop museum discovered further cemeteries: one along a second coastal road revealed several rows of amphora burials, and the other found stone-lined cist graves flanking an important late Roman road running toward the forbidding north coast of urban Sinope. There does not seem to have been a clearly defined edge to the urban space on that side of the city. The Hellenistic fortification of Sinope consisted of a curtain wall with six towers. The exterior facing of the wall consisted of finely drafted bossed ashlars in local Boztepe limestone. The wall was defended by a complex system estimated to have had approximately twenty narrow (ca. 0.3 m) arrow ports at ground level and two dozen wider (ca. 0.8–1 m) ballista ports set approximately 3 m above ground level. These were all furnished with heavy wooden shutters operated by a stone hinge and counterweight system. There is also some evidence that scorpion ballistae were set on the larger towers, most likely to defend the harbor below (Rempel and Doonan, Forthcoming). Following the conquest of Sinope by Lucullus (70 bce) and the establishment (47 bce) of Colonia Julia Felix Sinope, the arrow and ballista ports were blocked and three of the towers were removed and replaced by monumental arches. The imposing Hellenistic city gate flanked with towers was converted into a triple arch, effectively neutralizing the defensive potential of the wall. This was the “beautiful city wall” praised by Strabo (Geography 12.3.11). The harbor appears to have been defended by a jetty that was still visible on nineteenth-century maps of the city. The nature of the defenses on the eastern flank of the city remain as yet unclear.

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The city walls of Nicaea are widely thought to have originated in the Hellenistic period: the general alignment of the presumed Hellenistic city gates clearly follows that of the later grid, based on Strabo’s observation (Geography 12.4.7) that all four city gates were visible from a single point within the city’s gymnasium (see above and Figure 20.3A). Remains of this Hellenistic fortification system are notoriously scarce, however, and the four existing gates were built in Flavian times, with restorations under Hadrian, who made substantial contributions to the rebuilding of the city following a devastating earthquake in 120 ce (Schnieder and Karnapp 1938; Bekker-Nielsen 2008). The gates, which were constructed out of well-cut blocks joined without mortar, were adorned with statues and inscriptions honoring Vespasian, Titus, and later Hadrian. A small surviving section of the wall near the Lefke Gate, constructed of finely dressed unmortared blocks, was considered Hadrianic by Schnieder, who thought that the Flavian gates were not incorporated into a city wall until that later building phase, but Bekker-Nielsen suggested that it was a survival of the Hellenistic system (see above). Depite Flavian and Hadrianic construction, the inefficacy of the city walls as defenses might be inferred from Zosimus’s narrative of the Gothic invasion of Bithynia in 257 ce (New History 1.35.1–2): the invaders encountered essentially no resistance in Nicaea, Nicomedia, or Chalcedon. Under Roman administration, the maintenance of walls that were primarily intended to express the prestige of a great old city might be consistent with the history of those of Sinope. The impressive walls that survive today were built in the wake of the Gothic invasions of 258 and reinforced over several hundred years (Foss 1996).

Theaters and Stadia Theaters helped to integrate urban and suburban communities within their territories through shared communal experiences. The origins of theatrical culture lay in the worship of Dionysos, but by Roman times the theater became the locus of more secular entertainments. Recent cognitive science analyses demonstrate that ancient Greek theater’s multi-sensual cultural and participative aspects built a sense of community on multiple levels (Meineck 2018). Most of these community-building elements would have been shared with the more secular Roman experience, which may provide some perspective on the great interest in promoting theater construction during the second century ce. Pliny the Younger (Letters 10.39) wrote to Trajan about the extraordinary expenses of building the theater at Nicaea, coupled with gymnasium and bath construction projects. All of these institutions together form the basis of embodied social experiences that integrated urban and suburban communities. There is extensive discussion of the dating of the theaters in Bithynia and Pontus, with the expectation that at least some had been established by the cities on the Black Sea coast during Hellenistic times. The most likely candidate for such a Hellenistic theater is that in Amastris (Marek 2003), which was largely excavated out of a natural slope and built of well-drafted rusticated limestone blocks similar to those used in the construction of the Sinope fortification wall. Most other theaters were built of large blocks of local stone and date to the second century ce, as at Nicomedia (Çalık Ross 2007), Prusias ad Hypium (Marek 2003), Tieion (Yıldırım 2017), and Pompeiopolis (Summerer 2011). The stadium at Bithynium/ Claudiopolis was most likely established in the context of the Hadrianic establishment of the cult of Antinous, along with the octastyle temple already mentioned.

Water Infrastructure Aqueducts were among the costliest and most important elements of Roman urban infrastructure. Several of the exchanges between Pliny the Younger and Trajan (Letters 10.37–40) concerned their construction and financing. Pliny was concerned about the squandering of



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more than five million sesterces on two aborted aqueduct projects for Nicomedia, reporting local corruption there, in Nicaea (a similarly failed theater and gymnasium), and in Claudiopolis (baths). Though skeptical about the other projects, Trajan’s responses emphasized the importance of prioritizing the careful completion of the aqueduct project in Nicomedia. Recent surveys have documented remains of 23 sections of aqueducts in the environs of Nicomedia (Çalık Ross 2007). An approximately 100 m section of an aqueduct survives in the village of Uçtepeler, 4 km north of the Nicomedia city walls. In addition, evidence of aqueducts has recently been documented at Tieion (Yıldırım 2017) and Neoclaudiopolis (Bekker-Nielsen et al. 2015). Pliny (Letters 10.90–91) also wrote to Trajan about a proposed aqueduct for the city of Sinope, requesting permission for an engineering study to see if the marshy ground between a good water source and the city would sustain it. Trajan showed interest, although it appears that the proposed aqueduct was never built. Cuttings in limestone around a spring recorded by the Sinop Regional Archaeological Project correspond to exploration of the water source, but the geomorphological research conducted by the same team demonstrated that the land between the source and the town remained marsh in the Roman period, and there was no evidence of any further development of the spring (Doonan 2013). Other aqueducts have been documented in the area within 1–2 km west of Sinope, and on the height of Boztepe overlooking the city from the east; the latter fed a major bath complex and a series of large cisterns in the suburbs east of the city (Barat 2011). Pompeiopolis provides the best example of ambitious water infrastructure in the Pompeian foundations of the interior. Excavations there have revealed a finely appointed bath complex within the central core of the city (Bielfeldt 2011; Koch 2011). The architecture of the baths is somewhat less clear, but numerous varieties of opus sectile in imported colored marbles and evidence for polychrome wall painting suggest an attractive structure, which ceramic finds date to the later second or early third century ce.

Religious Installations Direct evidence for civic temples in Bithynia and Pontus is relatively scarce owing to the limited urban excavations conducted to date. There is some indirect evidence provided by local coin issues, ancient historical references, and inscriptions (Burrell 2004; Bekker-Nielsen 2008; Sauer 2014; Dalaison 2016). The temple best documented archaeologically is that on the acropolis at Tieion. It looms over the harbor on a lofty outcrop isolated from the city, with 6 × 11 Corinthian columns on a high base measuring 15 × 31 m. The tall platform masks vaulted crypts beneath the pronaos and naos. The excavators date it to the late Severan period, ca. 235 ce, based on numismatic finds and the architectural style (Baran, Dirlik, and Kendirci 2015). There is also a small temple in Sinope, located in the garden of the Sinop Museum. It was excavated by Akurgal and Budde in the early 1950s, but an oft-cited association with the cult of Serapis is almost certainly erroneous (Summerer 2014). Though not located archaeologically, the best documented cult installation in the region is that of the imperial cult at Nicomedia. Burrell (2004, 147–165, 257–259) has meticulously documented the evidence for the imperial cult at Nicomedia, Nicaea, and possibly Heraclea. In 29 bce, Octavian granted Nicomedia the right to house a cult for himself and Roma, to be observed by the Bithynian koinon, while Nicaea was allowed to serve as a center for Roman citizens to worship the divine Julius Caesar and Roma (Cassius Dio 51.20.6–7; Madsen 2016 suggests a somewhat later date). Neokoros status, the right to serve as the center of the imperial cult, was later also granted to Nicaea, possibly under Hadrian, but Nicomedia’s status as neokoros was reaffirmed under Septimius Severus (Burrell 2004, 147–165).

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Numismatic evidence suggests a temple to the imperial cult in Nicomedia at least as early as the reign of Hadrian, and perhaps earlier; the Hadrianic coins feature an octostyle Corinthian temple of Roma and the emperor, with elaborate akroteria (Burrell 2004, 148–151). Rescue excavations by the Kocaeli Museum at Nicomedia yielded a remarkable monumental terraced building dedicated to the imperial cult, dated to 285–293, Diocletian’s co-rule with Maximian, before the establishment of the Tetrarchy. The structure, lavishly paved with opus sectile, was adorned with polychrome reliefs ca. 1 m high and perhaps 50 m long, depicting an imperial adventus attended by citizens and personifications. Set to overlook and dominate the harbor, the complex was initially considered to belong to the second century, although the mosaics and reliefs so far published date to the end of the third; it may well be that a longstanding shrine to the imperial cult was renovated following Diocletian’s elevation of Nicomedia as an imperial seat. Full publication of this extraordinary find is in preparation (Şare Ağtürk 2018). The complex was badly damaged by construction on all sides and a modern street cutting across it, but a monumental stairway at least 40  m wide led up to a mosaic-paved area of approximately 100 × 50 m, near the center of which the polychrome reliefs were discovered. Among the major surviving elements was a group centered on a seated Roma holding a Victoria on a globe. Behind her stood a barefoot male holding a cornucopia, while before her were two bearded men and a youth, all wearing the toga praetexta and looking attentively in the same direction, presumably toward the imperial procession. That adventus scene centers on two emperors, wearing purple cloaks over gold and purple tunics, embracing. Each has just stepped off his chariot; the better surviving example has gilded wheels and a purple throne. Although almost identical, the figure on the viewer’s left is slightly taller and older, and must represent Diocletian. This remarkable scene may be the earliest example of the motif of embracing coemperors that became a dominant symbol of imperial concordia under the Tetrarchy.

Conclusion The province of Bithynia and Pontus has yet to be explored enough to match many other parts of the empire. Despite the fragmentary condition of current evidence, a distinctive pattern can be discerned, showing continuity of the region’s proud pre-Roman history and culture in cities that were among the most celebrated in the Hellenistic world. Their local elites maintained longstanding social and cultural identities at the same time as they learned to flourish within the Roman system. Nonetheless, their greatness before the Roman hegemony was within more localized north Anatolian and Pontic regional systems. Their hinterlands, the mountains of northern Anatolia, furnished rich resources sufficient to sustain local economies. As cities and hinterlands were integrated into the world system of Rome’s economy, the region underwent a process of uneven development, with underpopulated mountainous areas linked to both international markets via coastal outlets and to increasing population centers in the interior along the north Anatolian rift valley. Bithynia and Pontus were a study in contrasts, with wild lands abutting sophisticated urban centers. Pressures for development and expansion increased as the power and economic center of the empire moved east, first to Nicomedia and then to Constantinople.

Biographical Note Owen Doonan is professor of Art History at California State University Northridge. Since 1996, he has directed the Sinop Regional Archaeological Project, supported by grants from the NEH, the National Geographic Society, and many other sources. He has authored more



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than fifty articles, as well as a monograph, Sinop Landscapes (2004). He served as Hanfmann Lecturer for the AIA in 2016–2017, and has received fellowships from the NEH, the Getty Villa, and the Alexander von Humboldt Foundation.

Abbreviations RPC = Roman Provincial Coinage. 1992–. Edited by Andrew M. Burnett, Michel Amandry, and Pere Pau Ripollès. London and Paris: British Museum Press, Bibliothèque Nationale de France. https://rpc.ashmus.ox.ac.uk.

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Cassis, Marica, Owen Doonan, Hugh Elton, and James Newhard. 2018. “Evaluating Archaeological Evidence for Demographics, Abandonment, and Recovery in Late Antique and Byzantine Anatolia.” Human Ecology, 46, no. 3: 381–398. Cumont, Franz. 1901. “Le Zeus Stratios de Mithridate.” Revue de l’histoire des Religions, 43: 47–57. Dalaison, Julie. 2016. “Néocorie et koinon: les attestations et représentations du culte impérial fédéral sur les monnaies provinciales romaines du nord de l’Asie mineure (Pont, Paphlagonie et Arménie mineure).” In Kaiserkult in den Provinzen des Römischen Reiches, edited by Anne Kolb and Marco Vitale, 189–228. Berlin: DeGruyter. Dalyancı-Berns, Ayşe. 2017. “Die Stadtbefestigung von Nicaea (Iznik): Bautechnische Beobachtungen zur Rekonstruktion des Bauablaufs.” In Werkspuren: Materialverarbeitung und handwerkliches Wissen im antiken Bauwesen, edited by Dietmar Kurapkat and Ulrike Wulf-Rheidt, 417–426. Regensburg: Schnell & Steiner. Doonan, Owen. 2003. “Production in a Pontic Landscape: The Hinterland of Greek and Roman Sinope.” In Pont-Euxin et Commerce: la genèse de la “Route de soie.” Actes du IXe Symposium de Vani, edited by Murielle Faudot, 185–198. Besançon: Presses Universitaires Franc-Comtoises. Doonan, Owen. 2004. Sinop Landscapes: Exploring Connection in the Hinterland of a Black Sea Port. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Museum Publications. Doonan, Owen. 2013. “Sinope colonia sitiens: A Note on Pliny, Ep. X.90-91 Based on New Evidence from the Sinop Regional Archaeological Project.” In Petasos: Festshrift für Hans Lohmann, edited by Georg Kalaitzoglou and Gundula Lüdorf, 263–268. Paderborn: Wilhelm Fink. Doonan, Owen. 2015. “Settlement and Economic Intensification in the Late Roman/Early Byzantine Hinterland of Sinop, Turkey.” In Landscape Dynamics and Settlement Patterns in Northern Anatolia during the Roman and Byzantine Period, edited by Kristina Winther-Jacobsen and Lâtife Summerer, Geographica Historica 32, 43–60. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner. Doonan, Owen. 2019. “Xenophon in a Black Sea Landscape: Settlement Models for the Iron Age on the Sinop Promontory (Turkey).” European Journal of Archaeology, 22: 91–110. Doonan, Owen, Alexander Bauer, Aksel Casson, Matthew Conrad, Mark Besonen, Emre Evren, and Krzystof Domzalski. 2015. “Sinop Regional Archaeological Project: Report on the 2010–2012 Field Seasons.” In The Archaeology of Anatolia: Current Work, edited by Sharon Steadman and Greg McMahon, 298–327. Cambridge: Cambridge Scholars Press. Doonan, Owen, Hüseyin Vural, Andrew Goldman, Alexander Bauer, Susan Sherratt, Jane Rempel, Krzysztof Domzalski, and Anna Smokotina. 2016. “Sinope Ancient Kale Excavations 2015: Towards a New Model of Mobile Fishing Communities and Incipient Trade in the Black Sea.” Antiquity Project Gallery, 90, no. 351. Accessed December 15 2019 at http://antiquity.ac.uk/projgall/ doonan351 Doonan, Owen, Hüseyin Vural, Andrew Goldman, Alexander Bauer, Jane Rempel, Susan Sherratt, Paolo Maranzana, and Emine Sökmen. 2017. “Sinop Kale Excavations: The 2015–16 Report.” In Archaeology of Anatolia 2, edited by Sharon Steadman and Greg McMahon, 178–199. Cambridge: Cambridge Scholars Press. De Jesus, Prentiss. 1978. “Metal Resources in Ancient Anatolia.” Anatolian Studies, 28: 97–102. De Jesus, Prentiss. 1980. The Development of Prehistoric Mining and Metallurgy in Anatolia. British Archaeological Reports International Series 74. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Emery-Barbier, Aline. 2010. “Végétation actuelle et passée de la région de Sinope. Apports des analyses palynologiques et anthracologiques du site de Demirci à la reconstitution de la couverture végétale au Ier millénaire AD.” In Les fouilles et le materiel de l’atelier amphorique de Demirci pres de Sinope, edited by Dominique Kassab Tezgör, 27–40. Istanbul: Institute français d’études anatoliennes Georges-Dumezil. Foss, Clive. 1996. Survey of the Medieval Castles of Anatolia, 2: Nicomedia. London: British Institute of Archaeology at Ankara. French, David, ed. 2004. The Inscriptions of Sinope I. Inschriften griechischer Städte aus Kleinasien 64. Bonn: Habelt. French, David. 2013. Roman Roads and Milestones of Asia Minor, fasc. 3.4, Electronic Monograph 4: Imperial: Pontus et Bithynia. London: British Institute of Archaeology at Ankara. French, David. 2016. Roman Roads and Milestones of Asia Minor, fasc. 3.9, Electronic Monograph 9: An Album of Maps. London: British Institute of Archaeology at Ankara.



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Fassbinder, Jörg. 2011. “Geophysikalische Prospektion in Pompeiopolis.” In Pompeiopolis I. Eine Zwischenbilanz aus der Metropole Paphlagoniens nach fünf Kampagnen (2006–2010), edited by Lâtife Summerer, 17–27. Langenweißbach: Beier and Beran. Güney, Hale. 2015. “The Economic Activities of Roman Nicomedia and Connectivity between the Propontic and Pontic World.” In Interconnectivity in the Mediterranean and Pontic World during the Hellenistic and Roman Periods, edited by Victor Cojocaru, Altay Coşkun, and Madalina Dana, 605– 624. Cluj-Napoca: Mega Publishing. Haldon, John, Hugh Elton, and James Newhard, eds. 2019. Archaeology and Urban Settlement in Late Roman and Byzantine Anatolia: Euchaita-Avkat-Beyoezu and its Environment. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hamilton, William. 1842. Researches in Asia Minor, Pontus, and Armenia. London: Murray. Herman, John. 2007. Amid the Clouds and Mist: China’s Colonization of Guizhou, 1200–1700. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center. Hoepfner, Wolfram. 1966. Heraclea Pontike-Ereğli: Eine Baugeschichtliche Untersuchung. Vienna: Austrian Academy of Sciences. Hoffman, Adolf. 1989. “Zum ‘Bedesten’ in Amastris. Ein römischer Marketbau?” Istanbuler Mitteilungen, 39: 197–210. Karagianni, Alexandra. 2011. “The Harbour of Proconnesus in Greco-Roman and Byzantine Times: The Marble Trade, A Source of Financial and Cultural Development.” TEA: The European Archaeologist, 36: 17–22. Karagülle, Can. 2019. “Bolu’da Antik Dönem ve Mimari İzler,” unpublished ms. Accessed January 15 2020 at http://www.academia.edu/20062310/Antiquity_Period_and_Architecture_Traces_in_Bolu Koch, Julia. “Die Thermenlage am Westfuss des Zımbıllı Tepe.” In Pompeiopolis I. Eine Zwischenbilanz aus der Metropole Paphlagoniens nach fünf Kampagnen (2006–2010), edited by Lâtife Summerer, 63–73. Langenweißbach: Beier and Beran. Köroğlu, Gülgün. 2017. “Sinop Balatlar Kazısı 2015 Yılı Kazı Çalişmaları.” Kazı Sonuçları Toplantısı: 191–204. Johnson, Peri. 2010. Landscapes of Achaemenid Paphlagonia. PhD dissertation, University of Pennsylvania. Accessed July 2 21. https://www.academia.edu/390917/Landscapes_of_Achaemenid_Paphlagonia Lambert, Robert. 1984. Beloved and God: The Story of Hadrian and Antinous. London: George Weidenfeld & Nicolson. Levick, Barbara. 1979. “Pliny in Bithynia–and What Followed.” Greece & Rome, 26, no. 2: 119–131. Madsen, Jesper. 2006. “Intellectual Resistance to Roman Hegemony.” In Rome and the Black Sea Region, edited by Tønnes Bekker-Nielsen, 63–84. Aarhus: Aarhus University Press. Madsen, Jesper. 2009. Eager to Be Roman. Greek Response to Roman Rule in Pontus and Bithynia. London: Duckworth. Madsen, Jesper. 2016. “Who Introduced the Imperial Cult in Asia and Bithynia? The Koinon’s Role in the Early Worship of Augustus.” In Kaiserkult in den Provinzen des römischen Reiches, edited by Anne Kolb and Marco Vitale, 21–36. Berlin: DeGruyter. Marek, Christian. 1993. Stadt, Ära und Territorium in Pontus Bithynia und Nord Galatia. Tübingen: E. Wasmuth. Marek, Christian. 2003. Pontus et Bithynia. Die Römischen Provinzen in Norden Kleinasiens. Mainz: Von Zabern. Marek, Christian. 2010. Geschichte Kleinasiens in der Antike. Munich: C.H. Beck. Marek, Christian, and Peter Frei. 2018. In the Land of a Thousand Gods: A History of Asia Minor in the Ancient World. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Matttews, Roger, and Claudia Glatz, eds. 2009. At Empire’s Edge: Project Paphlagonia Regional Survey in North-Central Turkey. London: British Institute at Ankara. Marshall, Anthony. 1968. “Pompey’s Organization of Bithynia Pontus: Two Neglected Texts.” Journal of Roman Studies, 58: 103–109. Meiggs, Russell. 1982. Trees and Timber in the Ancient Mediterranean World. Oxford: Clarendon. Meineck, Peter. 2018. Theatocracy: Greek Drama, Cognition, and the Imperative for Theater. London: Routledge. Mitchell, Stephen. 1993. Anatolia. Land, Men, and Gods in Asia Minor I: The Celts and the Impact of Roman Rule. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

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CHAPTER 21

Asia C. Brian Rose

The province Asia (Figure 21.1) marked the transition between continental Europe and Asia, and included the territories of Mysia, the Troad, Aeolis, Lydia, Ionia, Caria, parts of Phrygia, and islands along the coast. That also made it a fertile ground for battle: the partisans of Mithridates of Pontus reportedly executed 80,000 Romans and Italians in 88 bce, and the Goths sacked several cities along the west coast in the 260s ce. In the intervening high empire, however, Asia was largely at peace and unusually prosperous. It was one of the most urbanized of Rome’s provinces, and many of its innovations in architecture and urban design were widely imitated (Raja 2012). In some respects, in fact, the cities and monuments of the province Asia seem more representative of the Roman Empire than Rome itself.

The Hellenistic Background During the third and second centuries bce, no one kingdom controlled the entire area of Asia Minor; the Seleucid empire held the largest swath of territory, but, in the late third century, the Attalid kings, based at Pergamon, became increasingly powerful in what is now western Turkey. These two centuries witnessed the construction of a series of colossal temples intended to signal the power of the builders. New temples to Artemis at Ephesus, Sardis, and Magnesia, and to Apollo at Didyma and Chryse (the Smintheion) vied with each other in size and magnificence; some were not finished until the imperial period, and others, such as Didyma, were never finished (Webb 1996, 52–54, 80–83, 88–92, 104–105; Özgünel 2003). The campaigns of the Seleucid king Antiochus III in the eastern Mediterranean ultimately pulled the Roman army into the East, and with the forces of Pergamon at Rome’s side, Antiochus was defeated in 190, after which Seleucid power in Anatolia was severely diminished. In the second century bce, Pergamon and Rome emerged as dominant powers in western Asia Minor, and monuments erected in cities under Attalid control attested to their close alliance: when two brothers in the Attalid royal family, Eumenes II and Attalus II, built a temple in honor of their mother Apollonis at Cyzicus, they included Romulus and Remus

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 1, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



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Figure 21.1  Map of Roman Asia. By Ardeth Anderson, adapted by John Wallrodt.

in the decoration (Greek Anthology 3.19). Honorific statues of Roman magistrates crowded the public spaces of Pergamon, and upon the death of Attalus III in 133, the entire kingdom was willed to Rome, creating the province Asia (Hansen 1971; van Looy and Demoen 1986; Kuttner 1995).

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Ambassadors’ and Benefactors’ Monuments of the First Century bce The links between Rome and Asia Minor that seemed so fixed in the second century bce had nearly evaporated by the beginning of the first century bce, primarily due to the appearance of Mithridates of Pontus on the political stage (Magie 1950, 199–231, 321–350). His involvement in the overthrow of client kings loyal to Rome prompted the Senate to declare war on him, and the resulting conflict would wreak havoc in Asia Minor and the Aegean for over twenty-five years. Three wars fought in rapid succession brought about the destruction of a large number of cities in the eastern Mediterranean, including Athens, Delos, and Ilion. As a consequence of these wars, together with the exactions of Roman officials and an increase in Mediterranean piracy that the wars facilitated, the first three quarters of the first century bce witnessed a period of severe economic depression in western Asia Minor. The majority of the monuments erected during this period focused on influential civic benefactors who served as ambassadors to Rome and attempted to improve the financial conditions of their cities. Some are attested only by inscriptions, of which Asia has produced an overwhelming number that are well-published in several corpora (IGRR, MAMA, IGSK). Artemidorus of Knidos, for example, seems to have secured freedom for his native city from Rome, and the city thanked him with nine portraits: three each in bronze, marble, and gold, as well as another gilded painted portrait set up in the local temple of Artemis (GIBM 4.1, no. 787). The honors for the ambassador Iollas of Sardis were even more elaborate: he received three gilded portraits, one of which was colossal and another equestrian, as well as three in marble, four in bronze, and four that were painted (I Sardis 27; 75–50 bce). Pergamon had served as Mithridates’ capital city and had suffered significantly as a consequence. It is therefore not surprising that the Pergamene ambassador to Rome, Diodoros Pasparos, received even more extraordinary honors. In addition to a large number of gilded, bronze, and marble statues, he was also awarded his own temenos, the Diodoreion, the remains of which include a small theater for the celebration of a festival in his honor (Radt and Filgis 1986). The best extant example of an ambassadors’ monument is the tomb built at Carian Aphrodisias for Zoilos, a freedman of Augustus who had served as ambassador from Aphrodisias to Rome (Smith 1993; Figure 21.2). Zoilos appears on the monument at least three times, and is surrounded by personifications of honors – Virtue (Arete), Valor (Andreia), Trustworthiness (Pistis), Honor (Timé), Memory (Mneme), and Eternity (Aion) – and of the agents who bestowed those honors (Roma with the Aphrodisias Polis and Demos). Zoilos receives a shield from Valor, while both the personified City and Honor crown him, complementing the relief crowns in the background that signify the ten consecutive times he served as the magistrate stephanephoros during his life. The entire frieze, in fact, can be read like a eulogy: the political and military achievements of Zoilos have earned him the highest honors that can be bestowed by Aphrodisias and Rome, thereby ensuring that the memory of his accomplishments will be eternal. Two additional features are especially noteworthy: Zoilos is clad in traveling clothes to highlight his ambassadorial duties, and all of the figures are identified by inscriptions, as on many panels in the later Sebasteion at Aphrodisias. Such identifying inscriptions are not common on figural friezes of imperial date – hence the ambiguous iconography on the “Parthian Monument” at Ephesus (discussed below) – and they suggest a presumption of visual literacy on the part of the viewer, which, in a sense, is itself a mark of honor. Nothing as elaborate as the Zoilos monument had ever been or would be produced again for local benefactors in Roman Asia as far as we know, although the crowning motif was probably relatively common in the late Hellenistic honorific monuments and continued to be used



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Figure 21.2  Drawing of the Zoilos Monument at Aphrodisias, showing Zoilos honored by personifications. Courtesy of New York University Excavations at Aphrodisias, from Smith 1993, fig. 5.

through the third century ce. An earlier dedication at Kyme (Aeolis) honoring a second century bce female benefactor named Archippe showed her crowned by the personification of the Boule (Council), whose building she had funded (IK Kyme no. 13.1, ll. 2–3), and the sarcophagus of a Claudian benefactor at Hierapolis in Phrygia, 40 km from Aphrodisias, showed him being crowned or honored by a series of personifications (Romeo, Panariti, and Ungaro 2014). The Hierapolis reliefs are so similar in conception to those of the tomb of Zoilos that the Zoilos monument has been suggested as one of the principal influences on the sarcophagus’ design. A similar honorific format would also be used for the Roman proconsul Celsus on his library at Ephesus, although the personifications of his qualities did not interact directly with him (Strocka 2003). Honors were also awarded to commanders who protected the cities from pirates, such as the “Harbor Monument” at Miletus, which honored Pompey’s successful efforts to rid the Mediterranean of Cilician pirates in 63 bce (Von Gerkan 1922, 55–73; Souza 1999, 149–178). The monument was essentially a colossal tripod dedicated to Apollo, the patron god of the area, but the frieze of tritons that framed the base alluded to Pompey’s maritime victory. Nearly forty years later, the monument was rededicated to Emperor Augustus following his victory over Antony and Cleopatra at Actium in 31 bce, which demonstrates how flexible these iconographic programs could be.

The Early Empire Following Actium, peace returned to Asia Minor and would continue for nearly three hundred years. The province could not, of course, recover from seventy years of warfare and economic stagnation overnight, but the cessation of war prompted a major increase in commercial activity, with civic benefactors and often the emperors themselves providing assistance for construction and restoration. As the adopted son of Julius Caesar, Augustus was a member of the Julian family, which traced its descent from the Trojan hero Aeneas, and cities that could claim an association with Troy or its heroes benefited substantially as a result. Foremost among these was Aphrodisias, which lay far from the Troad, but, at some point in the first century bce, the city’s fertility goddess was reconfigured as a manifestation of the Roman Venus Genetrix, mother of Aeneas and matriarch of the Roman people. In a letter inscribed on the walls of the Aphrodisias theater, Augustus claimed to have regarded the city

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with greater esteem than any other in Asia because of the alleged kinship between himself and the city (Reynolds 1982, 104–106, 1986, 111–112). One can imagine that he said the same of Ilion, where he appears to have sponsored a rebuilding of at least part of the acropolis, although no explicit document survives. The Augustan period also witnessed the introduction of the Greek epithet syngenes or “kinsman” in the imperial inscriptions of Ilion to highlight the alleged connection of city and emperor by virtue of their common Trojan ancestors (Rose 2014, 226). In some cases, the emperor’s benefactions amounted to little more than a remission of taxes or free supply of stone or metal from quarries or mines, many of which he now controlled (Mitchell 1987, 21–23). But gradually, the public buildings that had been damaged or neglected during the crisis years of the first century bce were repaired or rebuilt, as were streets and water systems, some of which were now fed by new aqueducts and spouted into increasingly monumental fountains (Aylward, Bieg, and Aslan 2002; Wiplinger 2006; Richard 2012). New temples to Augustus and Julius Caesar, often in conjunction with Roma, were also set up relatively quickly throughout Asia (Price 1984; Burrell 2004). The first cities to receive permission to construct such temples, in 29 bce, were Pergamon (Augustus and Roma) and Ephesus (Divus Julius Caesar and Roma). The former temple, constructed by the koinon of Asia, represented the nucleus of the province’s veneration of the first emperor and his empire (Burrell 2004, 17–22). On coins, it appeared as a hexastyle Corinthian building with statues of the cuirassed Augustus crowned by the personification of Rome holding a cornucopia – a type that was repeated almost exactly in the Julio-Claudian Sebasteion at Aphrodisias, albeit with the portraits switched to those of Nero and his mother Agrippina the Younger (Rose 1997, 164–169). These temples and the statues that adorned them figured among an extensive corpus of honors voted by provincial cities for the imperial family, and they involved a fairly straightforward system: honors for the emperor were voted by a town or region, the decree was transmitted to the emperor by one or more envoys, and the emperor then had to decide whether to accept the proposed honors, modify them, or reject them. These were components of a system of gift exchange, wherein the emperor was expected to confer some benefaction or economic relief on the city or group that had voted the honor (Price 1984, 65 ff.; Rose 1997, 8–9). One of the clearest examples of this mutually advantageous arrangement involved Emperor Tiberius’ economic assistance to a group of cities in the province Asia following a devastating earthquake in 17 ce. With the emperor’s permission, those cities (which included Sardis, Pergamon, and Hierapolis, among others) erected in Rome’s Forum of Caesar a seated statue of Tiberius surrounded by personifications of the cities themselves, following a long tradition wherein a city expressed its thanks in an area where the largest number of people would be aware of them (Vermeule 1981; Guidoboni 1994, 180–185). Several of the cities of Asia Minor, such as Ilion, Pergamon, and Ephesus, were frequent destinations for the imperial family. During the early empire alone, the ancient sources attest to visits by Augustus (20 bce), his daughter Julia and son-in-law Agrippa (16–13 bce), his grandson/adopted son Gaius Caesar (2 bce–4 ce), his stepson/adopted son Tiberius (4 bce–2 ce), and grandson Germanicus (17–18 ce) (Halfmann 1986, 158, 163–169). Consequently, cities tried to monitor as closely as possible the changes that occurred within the imperial family (divorces, remarriages, adoptions) and new developments in the political/ military sphere (triumphs, treaties, the installation of client kings), although one can detect a certain amount of confusion as to what to do. At least in the early empire, there was never a systematic erasure of imperial names when the Senate condemned them, and, even within the same city, the emperor’s name was sometimes erased from one inscription but left intact in another (e.g., Agrippina the Younger: L’année épigraphique 1980, 233, no. 855; IG ed. min. 4.1, 602).



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Case Study: The Sebasteion at Aphrodisias As the imperial period progressed, the level of rivalry among Asia’s cities increased dramatically. Cities competed for the right to erect temples and establish festivals in honor of the imperial family, and those who secured permission to do so received the titles of neokoros or temple warden, which was usually commemorated on civic coinage (Burrell 2004). A city did not need to be neokoros to harbor an imperial monument, as evinced by the early imperial Sebasteion at Aphrodisias, which was probably under construction for over forty years, from the Tiberian through the Neronian period. (Smith 2013; Figure 21.3). This unique imperial shrine erected by private citizens featured four major components: two porticoes (the North and South Buildings) nearly 100 m long, a propylon, and a prostyle temple. The two-storied propylon (Corinthian above Ionic) led to a street flanked by three-storied porticoes (Doric, Ionic, Corinthian), both of which were decorated with life-size marble reliefs in the intercolumniations of the second and third stories. There would have been room for 203 reliefs, of which eighty survive complete or in large part, and another twenty in fragmentary form. Continued excavation around the Sebasteion has shown that the complex was intended to serve as a kind of pictorial avenue open to pedestrian traffic at both ends. In effect, it was a monumental corridor that connected the residential district of Aphrodisias to the agora, not unlike the Forum Transitorium in Rome. The impetus for the construction is unclear, although it may have been tied to the Senate’s renewal of the city’s asylum rights in 22 ce, coupled with a desire to ensure that the patronage that Aphrodisias had enjoyed under Augustus would be continued by his heirs. We are on firmer ground in dating the progression of the construction, since there was extensive epigraphic documentation on every part of the complex. The temple and propylon were completed during the reign of Tiberius, with a series of imperial portrait statues added to the latter structure during the reign of Caligula, while the North and South Buildings were constructed during the Claudian and Neronian periods. Since the construction spanned such a long period, the iconography of the reliefs commemorated the most important political and military achievements of the entire dynasty, such as Augustus’ subjugation of the Dacians, Claudius’ conquest of Britain, and Nero’s support of Armenia (Smith 2013, 91–93, 110– 113, 141–147). The reliefs that adorned the buildings can be divided into four major themes intended to describe the city’s sense of identity visually vis-à-vis Rome, the empire, and the imperial family. The second (Ionic) level of the north building presented the geographic scope of the empire as it existed in the Julio-Claudian period, with fifty personifications of subdued people or places (ethne). This series clearly drew on a model of empire advertisement that had been well established in Rome by the Augustan period, but no other complex preserves such an extensive list of the constituent ethne. Standing above them on the third (Corinthian) level were personifications of time and space, not unlike those featured in Ptolemaic and Seleucid spectacles, that represented the absence of temporal or spatial limits on the new empire. The dedicatory inscription on the north building referred to the emperors as Theoi Sebastoi Olympioi (August Olympian gods), a title that was translated into visual terms on the third level of the south building. Relief portraits of Augustus, Tiberius, Claudius, and Nero were juxtaposed with images of the Olympians (Zeus, Hera, Athena, Aphrodite, Demeter, and Hygeia), as well as a few figures of Roma and Nike in different configurations. One of the most striking reliefs features a nude Augustus holding an arched mantle above his head while balancing a rudder and cornucopia, with personifications of land and sea on either side (Smith 2013, 171–173, there identified as Claudius). The iconography succinctly conveys the theme of world prosperity due to the achievements of the emperor, which was a hallmark of Augustan panegyric in Rome.

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Figure 21.3  Reconstruction of the Sebasteion at Aphrodisias. Perspective view through propylon. Courtesy of New York University Excavations at Aphrodisias, from Smith 2013, fig. 8.

The following relief cycle was exclusively mythological/legendary in subject matter, and intended to highlight the bonds of kinship between Asia Minor and Rome (Aeneas, the Lupercal). Regional legendary founders (Bellerophon, Orestes, Telephos, and probably Ninos) were also celebrated, as were the gods or heroes who had functioned as role models for Hellenistic kings and continued to do the same for the emperors when power shifted to Rome (Dionysus and Herakles in particular, who are represented in six reliefs each). In other



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words, the reliefs did not comprise a linear narrative with a beginning, middle, and end, but functioned as flexible clusters of short stories intended to celebrate the city’s links to the heroic Greek past and the Roman present. This combination of local myth and imperial epiphany would continue into later centuries and spread to other cities, especially in the decoration of theater stages like that of Hierapolis in Phrygia (di Napoli 2015). At Aphrodisias, all of the personifications of subjugated nations appeared with inscribed labels, thereby enabling us to connect them to the campaigns of Augustus himself. Moreover, it seems likely that the reliefs in this series were modeled on the images of provincial personifications that were created for and carried in Augustus’ funeral. If so, this cycle would provide us with our only surviving visual record of that component of the funeral (Smith 2013, 113–118). This was not the only link that the “conquered nations” series allows us to draw between Aphrodisias and Rome; there is also the distinctive iconography of the personifications. Since all of them were female, only a limited number of martial models were available, primarily Minerva and the Amazons. Consequently, the costume and Age of Augustus personifications, such as Roma and Valor, are not substantially different from those of the conquered Britannia, except for a missing helmet, nor does the personification of the Pirousti, a subjugated tribe in Yugoslavia, deviate significantly from images of Athena (Smith 1987, 115–117; 1988, 60–62). The ancient workmen at Aphrodisias, not surprisingly, became confused when assembling the ethne series, and lightly incised a graffito on the back of the Pirousti relief to ensure that the right label ended up with the right personification. The plan of the Sebasteion complex is also worthy of comment, since it resembles no other buildings of Hellenistic or imperial date in Asia Minor. It looks as if the designers were searching for models that would present Aphrodisias as a player of significance on a much larger stage than had been the case in the past. In so doing, they adapted plans that had been used for the Imperial Fora in Rome, such as those of Caesar and Augustus; all three feature a porticoed rectangular space terminating in a podium temple on the central axis (Smith 2013, 9–13). The Ara Pacis in Rome itself may also have been a source of inspiration: the combination of square reliefs with floral decoration, meander borders, and mythological reliefs that one finds on the Sebasteion South Building occurs also on the Ara Pacis, and those are the only two examples of such a configuration that have come to light. It is also worth noting that all of the themes featured on the east and west sides of the Ara Pacis appear to have been adapted for inclusion on the Sebasteion: a female figure seated on weapons (A6), prosperity encompassing land and sea (C29), a Lupercal scene (D42), and Aeneas (D4, 5) (Smith 2013, 83–84, 171–173, 204–208, 261–262).

The High Empire This intense focus on the imperial family did not necessarily mean that the eastern foundations of Asia’s cities, or the worship of eastern gods, were suppressed: the reliefs of the Flavian Basilica at Aphrodisias featured Gordios, the eponymous founder of Gordion, as well as Ninos and Semiramis, the legendary king and queen of Babylon (Yıldırım 2004), and images of Attis in eastern garb appeared in sanctuaries of Cybele throughout Asia Minor (Vermaseren and De Boer 1986). In constructing these visual programs, however, cities were increasingly conscious of the fact that the East had two faces, good (Trojan) and bad (Parthian), and the line between the two needed to be treated with caution. Post-Augustan monuments to the imperial cult picked up many of the design features of the Aphrodisias Sebasteion, although the shape, scale, and context differed from dynasty to dynasty. The Flavian sanctuary of the Augusti at Ephesus also featured a podium temple, and the portico on its northern side was faced with caryatids of conquered regions, thereby

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perhaps drawing inspiration from the earlier Sebasteion (Burrell 2004, 62–66). Colossal cult statues of Vespasian, Titus, and Domitian were probably erected in the temple, although nearly all of the fragments that survive belong to the Titus statue – most notably, his head. The statue itself was cuirassed, as in the temple of Augustus and Roma in Pergamon, and if one assumes a 1:7 proportional relationship of head to body, then its total height would have been over 5 m. Also attested is temple sharing, wherein a temple housed cults of the ruler together with those of gods and personifications. Thus, at Pergamon and Smyrna, as at Nicomedia in neighboring Bithynia, the cult of the imperial family was joined to that of Roma or the Roman Senate, while at Lydian Sardis, the temple cella was subdivided so that it could house the cults of both Artemis and the Antonines in separate quarters, somewhat like the divided cellas in the temple of Venus and Roma in Rome (Burrell 2004, 103–110; Price 1984, 260). One temple stands out as an extraordinary example of imperial homage. This is the temple of Zeus Philios and Trajan at Pergamon, constructed nearly a century after the city’s temple to Augustus and Roma. The unusual epithet “Philios” seems to have been intended to stress the alliance between Pergamon and Rome (Burrell 2004, 22–30), and the new temple, which was Corinthian hexastyle, occupied a higher platform on the acropolis than that of the Great Altar of Zeus or the temple of Athena Polias, thereby transforming it into one of Pergamon’s primary focal points while simultaneously demonstrating the city’s continued relevance to contemporary politics. The forms of the associated cult statues were not equal – a cuirassed Trajan was shown standing next to an enthroned Zeus, so the division between emperor and Olympian, even in the relative darkness of a cella, would have been easily discerned. Nevertheless, both were shown at a similarly colossal scale to signal their superhuman status, a feature that would become increasingly common for imperial images during the second century. Most of the statues that had some connection to the imperial cult were approximately 5  m high, and those of their wives, who were generally featured as well, were only slightly smaller. Due to their gigantic size, nearly all of the statues were acrolithic, with the heads, arms, and legs fashioned of marble; and their frequent inclusion in large imperial statuary groups, often stretching from Trajan to Marcus Aurelius, must have created a visual effect more overwhelming than what one would have experienced in the earlier Olympian temples (Burrell 2004, 64–65, 104–108).

Case Study: Honors to Trajan and Lucius Verus at Ephesus Even in domestic contexts, one could have found evidence of homage to the emperors. One of the Hillside Houses at Ephesus, for example, contained a long, multipaneled ivory frieze representing Trajan’s Parthian Wars (113–117 ce). Although the frieze is fragmentary, the full height of .20 m is preserved in several places, and it was at least 1.08 m in length. Ivory is an unlikely material for mural decoration, so it probably formed part of a piece of wooden furniture into which the frieze had been set. Three nearly complete panels showing Trajan and his soldiers receiving the submission of eastern barbarians (probably from Parthia and Arabia) are preserved, with Victories in the form of caryatids dividing the interior panels, and larger caryatids representing the personifications of Parthia and Arabia at either end of the frieze. Longer panels represent active combat between Romans and Parthians; these are more fragmentary, and Trajan is recognizable in only one of the panels, where he towers over the other soldiers (Dawid 2003, 19–66). This frieze is extraordinary for several reasons, but first among them is that it is an historical relief with military scenes found in a private context. Other similar discoveries have been made, such as the Boscoreale cups showing the campaigns of Augustus and Tiberius in Gaul, or the terracotta frieze from a house in Fregellae narrating Rome’s war with Antiochus III, but these are very uncommon. Equally striking is the format of the frieze. The use of



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personified peoples as caryatids is reminiscent of the Flavian Sebasteion at Ephesus, which may have exerted some influence on the final design, but the panels contain extremely complex compositions with multiple layers of overlapping figures, suggesting that the panels were modeled on a monumental prototype. The scenes of Trajan and his soldiers interacting with the Parthians are reminiscent of the iconography featured on the reliefs (themselves of Aphrodisias marble) decorating the cenotaph for Gaius Caesar in Limyra, Lycia, and that may provide an important clue regarding the imperial model (Ganzert 1984; Borchhardt 2002; Prochaska, Seyer, and Plattner 2014). Trajan died in 117 at the end of the Parthian Wars, in Cilician Selinus not far from modern Alanya, and the cenotaph that was erected to him there has been discovered (Winterstein 2013). Although only the foundations survive intact, there are enough fragments of sculpture to suggest the existence of a narrative frieze, as in the case of Gaius’ cenotaph, and it must have featured key events of the Parthian War, such as the capture of Ctesiphon and the submission of King Osroes I. It is tempting to propose that Trajan’s cenotaph at Selinus served as the model for the Ephesian ivory frieze, which would, in turn, have functioned as a posthumous tribute to Trajan; and if so, the frieze may be the closest we can come to an understanding of the cenotaph’s imagery, although the reasoning is admittedly circular. One of the most imposing imperial monuments at Ephesus was an altar constructed for Lucius Verus, who had died on his return journey from the Marcomannic Wars in 169 (Seipel 2006; Oberleitner 2009; Figure 21.4). Although many of the altar’s reliefs and architectural elements were removed and reused in late antiquity, the findspots suggest an original location in the vicinity of the Temple of Hadrian, for which Ephesus became twice neokoros (Oberleitner 2009, II, 6–8, Abb. 1, 2). If this is correct, then the Verus altar and the Hadrian temple, viewed as an ensemble, would have constituted one of the most elaborate visual celebrations of the Antonine dynasty in Asia Minor. The altar’s basic format, with interior and exterior reliefs, was reminiscent of the Pergamon Altar, and, with a projected length of 31 m, it would have been only 5 m shorter than its Pergamene forerunner. The subjects highlighted, however, were much broader in scope. There was an abbreviated visual biography of Lucius’ life, which included his adoption by Antoninus Pius, battles with the Parthians, and his ultimate apotheosis, where he was shown seated with the Olympians and crowned by Nike (Oberleitner 2009, II, 184, Abb. 454). A series of regional or provincial personifications appeared, as did Mars with the wolf and twins, and it looks as if the city (or cities, as the entire koinon was responsible for the cult at a provincial temple) was attempting to make a broad programmatic statement about their relationship to Rome, not unlike the designers of the Aphrodisias Sebasteion. The presence of a cuirass-clad Mars in the Lupercal scene, in particular, is reminiscent of the comparable panel on the Ara Pacis, and suggests that a longer narrative of Rome’s Trojan ancestry once adorned the altar. The front of the monument is incomplete, but there appear to have been complementary scenes of Verus, Apollo, and Artemis ascending in chariots, thereby providing the same kind of human-divine assimilation that was so effectively crafted for the Julio-Claudians in the Aphrodisias Sebasteion. Although elements of the altar’s iconography are clearly dependent on earlier monuments in both Asia Minor and Rome, much of it was innovative. A case in point is the long battle scene with Parthians fighting Roman soldiers and their auxiliaries, which seems to have occupied one entire side of the altar. While such historical battle friezes were common features of imperial monuments in Rome, in Asia Minor they appear to have been limited to imperial cenotaphs. Emperors were commonly flanked by trophies to which captive barbarians had been tied, but the emphasis was usually on the successful outcome of the war, not the process by which this outcome was achieved. The motifs that are interspersed in the battle are equally innovative, such as one barbarian pulling an arrow from his back, or the lifeless body of another on his standing horse. A scene showing the suicide of two Parthians suggests the

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Figure 21.4  Reconstruction of the Parthian monument at Ephesus in axonometric perspective. © Kunsthistorisches Museum Vienna, adapted by John Wallrodt from Oberleitner 2009, II: 278, Abb. 669.

potential influence of Rome’s column of Trajan, where the same fate befalls the Dacian chief Decebalus. The cuirassed figure of Lucius Verus ascending in his chariot is a radical departure from scenes of imperial apotheosis. This is probably the first instance in which the deified emperor’s vehicle was the chariot. The scene thus conflates the concepts of triumph and apotheosis while strengthening the connection between Verus and the chariot-riding figures of Apollo and Artemis that served as his pendants. Such a configuration might also have been employed in the architectural sculpture of the temple of Hadrian at Cyzicus (Barattolo 1995; Burrell 2004, 90), but it would never become common in imperial apotheosis scenes in either the East or West.



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Also noteworthy is the inclusion of Verus as an eight-year-old boy being adopted by Antoninus Pius in the company of Hadrian and Marcus Aurelius. Never before on an imperial monument had the honoree been featured as both child and adult, which suggests that Verus was probably represented on each side of the altar in scenes that highlighted his Virtue, Honor, and Valor, not unlike Zoilos and Celsus. We should also probably assume some influence from the increasingly popular biographical sarcophagi of the second century, which began to be produced in great numbers during the Antonine period (Kampen 1981; Amedick 1991). The regional or provincial personifications merit discussion as well. Judging by the altar’s reconstruction, which is admittedly conjectural, there would have been approximately twenty personifications – far fewer than the encyclopedic series in the Aphrodisias Sebasteion but still a significant number – and each was accompanied by the upper half of figures who probably embodied rivers (Landskron 1999). In the absence of associated inscriptions, the rivers may have been intended to aid in identification, but the principal theme was clearly to highlight the empire’s vast geographical scope. Although the monument has long been assigned to Lucius Verus, several recent studies have proposed a reattribution to Antoninus Pius during the early part of his reign (Winkler-Horaček 2009; Faust 2012, 160–167). Such a proposition, however, conflicts with the iconography of the reliefs. The altar honors an Antonine whose life included battle with the Parthians, deification, and a likely connection to Ephesus. Within the Antonine dynasty, these conditions apply only to Lucius Verus: he visited Ephesus several times during the Parthian War, married his wife Lucilla there, and was declared divus by the Senate following his death in 169. This interpretation is reinforced by the iconography of the adoption scene, where the scepter between Hadrian and Antoninus Pius is positioned so that it seems to rise from the head of the young Lucius Verus. His achievements are clearly the focus of attention here, and are acknowledged by witnesses from the battlefield, Mt. Olympus, and the corners of the empire.

The Marble Industry and the Marble Style in Architecture Ostentatious monuments for the deceased were not limited to members of the imperial family. The beginning of the second century witnessed a change from cremation to inhumation, which in turn prompted the development of a sarcophagus industry. Much of the marble came from quarries in Asia Minor, and sculpture workshops now added sarcophagi to their repertoire and shipped the new products to Italy, where they were especially popular (Russell 2013). The iconography tended to focus on representations of heroes and gods, and the lid was often carved in the form of a mattress on which an image of the deceased reclined. The sarcophagus thereby approximated the form of a banqueting couch, echoing the kind of decoration used for Graeco-Persian tombs nearly six hundred years earlier (Waelkens 1982; Kleiner 1992, 384–392). Toward the end of the second century and throughout the third, the bodies of Asiatic sarcophagi often featured a portrait of the deceased as a Greek philosopher, reading from a scroll and surrounded by Muses (Zanker 1995, 267–289). The emphasis was placed on the man’s literacy, and his preoccupation with intellectual affairs rather than the material world. Muses and sages also appeared with greater frequency on the painted walls and mosaic floors of elite houses, and all of this is at least in part a response to the Second Sophistic, a period between ca. 60 and 230 that marked a revival of Greek culture and rhetoric in the eastern Mediterranean (Strocka 1977, 74–79, 115–117, 126–137; Anderson 1993). One of the most potent expressions of this trend dates to the beginning of the second century, when a functioning library was erected over the tomb of Tiberius Julius Celsus Polemaeanus, who had been consul in Rome (Strocka 2003; Figure 21.5). In the niches of the façade were female personifications of his virtues: Knowledge (Episteme), Wisdom (Sophia), and Goodwill (Eunoia), a program not far in conception from the early imperial monument of Zoilos at Aphrodisias (Figure 21.2).

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Figure 21.5  The Library of Celsus at Ephesus. Photo by Benh Lieu Song, https://commons. wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ephesus_Celsus_Library_Fa%C3%A7ade.jpg.

The façade on which the Celsus personifications were situated belongs to an architectural category that was especially prominent in the landscape of the province Asia, although it achieved such widespread popularity that it was ultimately regarded as one of the hallmarks of Roman architecture. The style was usually characterized by projecting aediculae staggered among two or three stories to produce decorative light and dark effects, which were heightened by alternating semicircular, triangular, and broken pediments (Yegül 1982; Burrell 2006; Figure 21.5). The columns were often fashioned of polychromatic marble with a variety of surface finishes, wherein both spiral and concave fluting could be juxtaposed with unfluted shafts, as in the Severan “Marble Court” of the Bath-Gymnasium at Sardis (Yegül 1986). The idea for these eye-catching architectural ensembles, often called the “Marble Style,” was hatched during the late Hellenistic period, as one can see in the rock-cut Treasury (Khazneh) at Petra, the second-style wall paintings in Rome and Campania, and the Palazzo delle Colonne at Ptolemais in Cyrenaica. Early examples of the style can be found at Aphrodisias in the Augustan scaenae frons of the Theater and the Tiberian propylon of the Sebasteion (Figure 21.3), but the majority of examples in the province Asia date to the second century; they disappear after the Severan period, probably because architectural patrons lacked the funds to continue building such ambitious monuments. The aedicular format allowed for the display of unusually large sculptural ensembles, uniting a set of images of the imperial family, tutelary deities, and legendary heroes of the city or region in a synthetic program. Many have interpreted this architectural format as a



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symbol of the imperial cult, and it was certainly used for that purpose on occasion, such as in the propylon of the Aphrodisias Sebasteion (Figure 21.3); but it seems mainly to have been intended to draw the viewer’s attention to the building and thereby highlight the extent of the sponsor’s generosity (Burrell 2006). As well as monumentalizing Asia’s theater stages, libraries, bath-gymnasia, and fountains (Richard 2012), the aediculated façade was also a popular decorative format for the new sarcophagi, with the columns often used to structure narratives such as the labors of Herakles or groups of gods and heroes (Thomas 2010). Incorporated into many of these aediculated façades were marble elements quarried in the province Asia, especially Africano from Teos, near Smyrna, pavonazzetto from Dokimeion, near Afyon, and Proconnesian from the island of Marmara, off the peninsula of Cyzicus (Asgari 1978; Waelkens 1982; De Nuccio et al. 2002). The last of these had been quarried at least since the sixth century bce, but the marble enjoyed great popularity in the early second century, when Hadrian and Antoninus Pius imported it for a series of large-scale architectural projects in Rome, including the temple of Venus and Roma, the Pantheon, and the Hadrianeum (Boatwright 1987, 43–51; Strong 1953, 127–131, 139). The architectural decoration of the Venus and Roma temple is so close to that of the Temple of Zeus Philios and Trajan at Pergamon that it looks as if the workshops responsible for the latter were brought to Rome to work on the former, probably because of their facility in carving Proconnesian marble (Strong 1953, 131–137). A number of the statues from Hadrian’s villa at Tivoli were carved and signed by Aphrodisian sculptors, some of whom later set up a workshop on the Esquiline hill in Rome, and they were probably responsible for a large number of imperial monuments (Bruno 2013). To the list of Aphrodisias marbles we can add the frieze of the cenotaph of Gaius Caesar at Limyra, mentioned above; the “Little Barbarian” statuary group, copied from the Attalid dedication on the Athenian acropolis (Attanasio et al. 2012); and the statue of Matidia, the sister of Hadrian’s wife Sabina, from the theater at Sessa Aurunca near Rome, carved from the distinctive gray marble that was a trademark of the site’s quarries (Raeder 1983, 236–238; Erim and Roueché 1982; Moltesen 1990; De Nuccio et al. 2002, 325–326, no. 23; Cascella 2013). Architectural interaction between Rome and the East was by no means one-sided: already in the second century bce a Roman engineer named Cossutius had helped King Antiochus IV with the roofing of the Olympieion in Athens, and perhaps also the Bouleuterion at Miletus (Rawson 1975). The Roman architect Vitruvius was heavily influenced by the writings of Hermogenes of Alabanda (Caria), a second century bce architect famous for his adoption of the pseudo-dipteral plan in temple construction, as at the Temple of Artemis Leukophryene at Magnesia on the Maeander (Hoepfner and Schwandner 1990). Mortared rubble, which was standard in Italian construction, was used in Pergamene buildings by the early empire, and brick vaulting, also typical of Roman architecture, can be found in second century ce construction at Smyrna and Aspendos. At the same time, Pergamon built a new temple of Asklepios Soter for the Sanctuary of Asclepius and modeled it on the Pantheon in Rome (Waelkens 1987; Dodge 1990). Ancient working architectural drawings have recently been identified at Didyma, Sardis, and Aphrodisias, and more evidence for architectural interaction between East and West will undoubtedly be forthcoming (Haselberger 1984, 1997; Hueber 1998; Stinson 2015). Additional information about the shipping system that transported stone from the quarry to the construction site will continue to emerge as more wrecks are excavated. One case in point is the recently discovered first century bce shipwreck at Kızılburun, which yielded eight marble column drums and a Doric capital that were in transit from the Proconnesian quarries to Claros, where the elements were intended for the peristyle of the Temple of Apollo (Carlson and Aylward 2010).

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Domestic Life, Entertainment, and Religion Similarities in the design and decoration of houses in Italy and the province Asia can be detected. The basic Asian plan involved a central peristyle court surrounded by rooms on two levels, often with a shop opening onto the street, while the more expensive houses even had their own baths. Though the best-preserved houses of Roman date can be found outside the province, at sites like Zeugma and Antioch in southeastern Turkey, excavations at Ephesus have yielded a series of extraordinarily well-appointed houses, primarily of second and third century date, which were built on a slope adjacent to the Library and agora (Dobbins 2000; Lang-Auinger 2003; Tobin 2013). These were luxurious peristyle houses with large reception and dining rooms, many of which were covered with polychromatic marble revetment and opus sectile mosaics. Most of the rooms featured equally elaborate painted ensembles, such as sages and muses, scenes of Greek tragedy and comedy, and large mythological and garden paintings (Strocka 1977). The decoration was so reminiscent of Pompeii that some of the paintings were initially dated to the later first century ce, although subsequent archaeological analysis has pointed to a date between ca. 225 and 250 ce for the majority of the paintings, thereby demonstrating the tenacity of early imperial styles and iconography in Asia (Zimmermann and Ladstätter 2011, 48). A specifically Roman form of entertainment for the province’s residents was gladiatorial games, although not in the same venues as one would have found in Rome. The games were first held at one end of a stadium, which was cordoned off for the event. Later, in the Antonine period, the orchestras of theaters were frequently modified, with the lower level of seats removed and protective barriers replacing them. The gladiators who fought there could be either slave or free, and the games were often sponsored by priests of the imperial cult, usually every four years (Robert 1971; Welch 1998a). Even after the theater conversions, however, stadia continued in operation, and several of these are so well-preserved that we can reconstruct their appearance and function in society. This is especially true for Aphrodisias, where a stadium probably built in the first century ce survives nearly intact. With a length of 270 m and thirty tiers of seats, it could have accommodated 30,000 spectators, and was therefore the largest stadium in the province (Welch 1998b). Inscriptions attest to seats reserved for guilds of gardeners, gold workers, and tanners, among others, as well as priests and archons, and they would have watched a range of athletic events in addition to games involving gladiators and wild animals. On a few occasions, as in the stadium at Smyrna during the second century ce, there were even public executions, although the events that were staged in stadia (as in theaters) were more frequently components of agonistic festivals honoring local gods and heroes or the emperors (Robert 1994, 114–115). Many of these festivals continued from the Hellenistic period through late antiquity, and their timing was staggered so as to allow residents to attend several of them without fear of scheduling conflicts (Jones 2007, 155, letter 2.1). The festivals served as the primary visual manifestation of a city’s or region’s identity, and some of them, such as those at Sardis, Pergamon, and Ilion, were modeled on Athens’ Panathenaia. The appropriation of the premier spectacle of Athens was uniquely suited to Ilion, in that rhapsodes would have sung parts of the Iliad in the city’s agora, which lay in front of the Late Bronze Age (Troy VI) fortification wall. That wall was no doubt presented as a remnant of Priam’s citadel, and sections of it were repaired and exhibited to spectators near the Bouleuterion and on the road to the theater. The ritual reinforced the Homeric heritage of the surrounding monuments, which, in turn, lent historical validity to the Homeric epics. Meanwhile, as justification for that equation, the local guides could have pointed to the neighboring “Homeric” tumuli, to the Locrian maidens in the Sanctuary, and to the cult statue in Ilion’s Athenaion, the form of which imitated the Homeric Palladion (Rose 2014, 160–164, 191–193).



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Nearly all of these spectacles would have involved athletic events, such as boxing, wrestling, and the decathlon, and the youths who participated would spend much of the year training in the city’s bath-gymnasium, a massive building type that seems to have been invented in Roman Asia. The new type combined the palaestra or exercise yard with the Roman bath, so that marble-clad walls led to colonnaded exercise yards that featured a blend of athletics, humanistic instruction, and discussion of current events. The Greek bath had not included the regular sequence of spaces with graduated heating conditions (frigidarium, tepidarium, and caldarium) that is typical of Roman baths, nor was it a place for exercise and statue galleries, but all of these components now functioned together in a successful symbiotic relationship. Although the new bath-gymnasium type quickly spread throughout the Mediterranean, the largest examples were constructed in Roman Asia, especially at Ephesus, Sardis, and Miletus. The construction of these monumental complexes slowed considerably following the Severan period, but those that had been erected continued to occupy a dominant role in the city, both socially and topographically, and there were several prominent examples of adaptive reuse. The most noteworthy reuse occurred at Sardis, where the southeast side of the bathgymnasium complex was transformed into the city’s synagogue, the largest one to have been discovered in Turkey, which flanked a series of shops (Hanfmann 1983, 168–190; Kroll 2001). Although it has long been dated to the mid-fourth century, a recent reexamination of the coins found under its floors has pointed to a date shortly after 550, in the reign of Justinian, which highlights the wealth, status, and integration of the Jewish community in Early Byzantine Sardis (Magness 2005). The structure of the Jewish community in Asia Minor has become much clearer in the last thirty years as a consequence of new epigraphic discoveries at both Sardis and Aphrodisias. The inscriptions at the latter site contain lists of members of the community along with their occupations, which include goldsmiths, green grocers, and stonecutters, among others. On these lists, the term theosebes (god-fearers) seems to have referred to members of the community who were drawn to Judaism but not expected to convert (Reynolds and Tannenbaum 1987). No one religion dominated daily life in Asia Minor, nor was there one particular type of sacred space. Nearly every city had at least one marble temple, and, although a wide variety of gods were represented, the most popular in Asia Minor were Apollo, Athena, and Artemis. The Anatolian fertility goddess Cybele also figured prominently in religious life, but she was more frequently worshiped at altars and small shrines than in marble temples (Roller 1999, 63–115). Conspicuous by their absence are Ares and Hera; temples to the former god were never popular in the eastern Mediterranean, and the fertility aspects of the latter were effectively subsumed by the cults of Cybele, Artemis, and Aphrodite. These three goddesses shared a cult statue format that was essentially columnar in shape, thereby continuing a traditional Anatolian form of sacred images. The bodies of the statues were adorned with a network of motifs related to the goddess’s cults, such as bees, lions, and hinds for the Artemis of Ephesus, or the Graces, Helios and Selene for the Aphrodite of Aphrodisias (Fleischer 1973; Brody 2007). Yet these archaistic cult statues existed simultaneously with more Hellenized images of the same gods, and a similar multiplicity of formats was employed for personifications: in the Aphrodisias Sebasteion, for example, Roma is shown wearing a cuirass, a diaphanous chiton, or an Amazon’s tunic in different panels (Smith 2013, 139–140, 154–156, 165–166). In any society, there are times when a closer link to the gods is desired, and, for such occasions, there were specialized facilities in the cults of Apollo, Asclepius, and the Egyptian gods, among others, to which one could turn. Sanctuaries of Apollo, where the god’s advice was dispensed by an oracle or trance-induced priestess, were located at several sites, including Didyma and Claros in Ionia and Hierapolis in Phrygia, and inscriptions recovered from the sanctuaries attest to their pan-Aegean popularity and the alleged effectiveness of the advice that was offered (Tuchelt 1992; Dewailly 2001; D’Andria 2003, 139, 228–231).

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The sanctuaries of Asclepius at Pergamon in Mysia, at nearby Allianoi, and on the island of Kos, were famous throughout the Mediterranean for the healing that the god provided by virtue of the priests who administered the complex (Yaraş 2006; Schazmann 1932; Ziegenaus and De Luca 1968). At Pergamon, in particular, anatomical votives deposited in the sanctuary also functioned as proof of the divine cures, and inscriptions indicate the god’s miraculous appearance in the suppliants’ dreams, although there is no evidence that narcotics were used to facilitate such dreams (Edelstein and Edelstein 1998; Baggieri 1999). One would have experienced an equally powerful epiphany in Pergamon’s Red Hall, probably a sanctuary of the Egyptian gods, where a tunnel afforded the priests access to the interior of the cult statue, from which they could actually speak to the suppliants in the guise of the god (Radt 1988, 228–239). The Egyptian cults of Isis and Serapis, along with those of Cybele and Mithras, fall into the category of “mystery religions,” which generally focused on the creation of life following the death of a central figure in the cult, and which usually promised a more clearly defined afterlife than that offered by the Olympian gods. Membership required familiarity with sacred texts and formal initiation, with a symbolic reenactment of the “mystery” in the course of the holy service. This meant that religious activities had to be shielded from the eyes of the uninitiated, which in turn mandated buildings with large interior illuminated spaces that could hold the congregation. This “religion of the interior” was the opposite of the Olympian cults, where all worship occurred outside the temple at an open-air altar; the temple interior was primarily a site for the cult statue, and therefore usually lacked windows, as there was no need to illuminate any interior activities. In general, Asia contained sanctuaries to the same kind of mystery cult deities that one would have found elsewhere in the Mediterranean, such as Cybele, the Eleusinian deities (Demeter and Persephone), and the Egyptian gods mentioned above, although the Persian god Mithras, who otherwise enjoyed enormous popularity with the Roman soldiers, appears to be largely absent (Vermaseren 1956, 49–53; Dörner 1978).

Late Antiquity The same regional variations existed in Christianity, which had emerged as the dominant religion by the second half of the fourth century. Pagan cults were finally declared illegal by Theodosius I in 391, and several of the old temples were converted to churches, which required the insertion of windows and a shift in the entrances from east to west, intended to align the interior altar with the rising sun in order to highlight the resurrection of Christ (Pagoulatos 1994; Hahn, Emmel, and Gotter 2008). In some places, the images of the old pagan cult statues were battered or burned in lime kilns, so that they would metamorphose into lime that could be used for the concrete needed to build the new Christian churches (Jacobs 2010; Smith 2013, 44–49). In other cities, such as Aphrodisias, images of the Olympian gods were completely battered but left on display, while at Ephesus, crosses were cut into the foreheads of the older imperial statues (Inan and Alföldi-Rosenbaum 1979, 57–60, nos. 3 and 5). The beginning of the early Christian period also witnessed a diminution in the number of tourists traveling to Asia Minor, and those who did come tended to journey to sites of Christian martyrdom, rather than to Homeric sites or architectural “wonders,” as had been the case before (Elsner and Rutherford 2005). By 330, the center of power had shifted closer to Asia, to Constantinople, which quickly acquired public monuments intended to emphasize the city’s role as the new Rome. The hippodrome with central obelisk called to mind the Circus Maximus; the Forum Tauri was reminiscent of the Forum Boarium; and the column of Constantine was clearly modeled on those of Trajan, Antoninus Pius, and Marcus Aurelius in Rome. The central spine of the hippodrome featured statues of a Lupercal as well as the sow with thirty piglets that appeared to



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Aeneas at Lavinium, while the base of Constantine’s column reportedly contained the Palladion, the Archaic Trojan image of Athena carried from Troy to Italy by Aeneas (Bassett 2004). This column, in turn, was flanked by statues of the imperial family and a few Classical gods, thereby repeating several of the standard components of imperial fora and sanctuaries in Rome, albeit now within a Christian context. The late fifth/early sixth century witnessed a series of crippling earthquakes along the western coast of Asia that destroyed the vast majority of the civic and religious structures that were still standing. Disrupted waterways turned to swamps and ultimately prompted a rise in malaria, followed by a devastating plague, probably bubonic, that swept across Asia Minor during the sixth century and reportedly caused the deaths of up to 5,000 a day in Constantinople (Little 2008; Guidoboni 1994, 250–353). The abandonment of many cities in Asia spurred a return to the agricultural areas that had remained largely uncultivated since the end of Persian control, as the Granicus River Valley survey in northwest Turkey has shown (Rose 2007). The ceramic record in the surveyed region, which lies between the ancient Granicus and Aesepus Rivers, points to an unusual sequence of habitation. Less than 1% of the ceramics are Bronze Age (and all second millennium); 41% are Archaic or Classical (with the vast majority dating from the late sixth through the early fourth century); 5% Hellenistic (the majority is early Hellenistic); just over 1% are early to mid-Roman (primarily third century ce); nearly 29% are late Roman; 14% Byzantine (with the majority being late twelfth/early thirteenth century), and nearly 10% Ottoman (with the majority dating to the nineteenth century). In other words, the primary settlements date to the period of Persian occupation, and to the late Roman period. Nearly 60% of the eighty-six sites that we have identified in the Granicus and Aesepus River Valley have a late Roman phase of occupation, which is most easily explained by a move into the interior regions following seismic activity along the coast. Within this area, there was abundant evidence for settlements, religious complexes, and fortified citadels. Many of the latter appear to have been built during the reign of the emperor Anastasius I (498–518 ce), who constructed fortification walls across Thrace and the Gallipoli peninsula ca. 500 ce, probably to counter military threats from the Bulgars (Crow 2007, 251– 285). With the rise in population in the interior during the early sixth century, and a subsequent increase in commercial traffic, the construction of such citadels along major roads is to be expected Habitation at most western Asia Minor sites during the later seventh, eighth, and early ninth centuries does not register in the archaeological record – towns like Amorium in Phrygia are a notable exception – and it looks as if the population abandoned the urban centers in favor of farms or rural settlements, although some of their descendants would return in the Middle and Late Byzantine periods (Lightfoot 1998). As a final note, it is worthwhile to consider in brief the legacy of Roman Asia during the subsequent centuries, up to the present day. During late antiquity, many of the architectural elements from pagan temples or partially destroyed buildings were recycled as components of Christian churches, leading the emperors to impose laws intended to preserve the older structures (Alchermes 1994). These provisions are most completely recorded in the law code of Theodosius II (402–450 ce), although they first began to be formulated in the fourth century, and they are sometimes regarded as the first historic preservation regulations. To an extent that was true, although one of the concerns prompted by the rise in spoliation must have involved the potential danger to pedestrians walking near a building whose stability had been compromised. In any event, the result was that some of the more impressive Roman monuments, especially in Constantinople, remained intact for much of the Byzantine period, surviving even the Iconoclastic Controversy in the eighth and ninth centuries. Some of those that disappeared during the Fourth Crusade of 1204 subsequently resurfaced in the public spaces of thirteenth century Venice, the most prominent of which are the porphyry Tetrarchs and the bronze horses above the cathedral of San Marco, which one can still see today.

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When large-scale excavations in Asia Minor began in the ninteenth century, archaeologists directed their primary attention to monuments of Late Classical and Hellenistic date, such as the Pergamon Altar, largely because Rome had been viewed as inferior to Greece since the Neo-Classical period. This attitude would begin to change only around 1900, when the Austrian Archaeological Institute inaugurated new excavations at Ephesus, and the imposing Roman monuments constructed 2,000 years ago quickly began to be uncovered. Those structures have been rising again during the last forty years as part of large-scale anastylosis projects, beginning with the Library of Celsus and Agora Gate at Ephesus (Figure 21.5), and continuing with the Sebasteion (Figure 21.3) and Tetrapylon at Aphrodisias, Pergamon’s Temple of Zeus Philios and Trajan, and the Antonine nymphaeum of Sagalassos, among many others. Consequently, at more and more Classical sites in western Asia Minor it is the Roman phase of occupation that is highlighted, which means that Roman Asia has, in a sense, been resuscitated, serving once again as a primary engine of tourism. Nor is this altogether inappropriate: by the twelfth century, at the latest, a claim to Roman ancestry by the Turks had transformed them into Rome’s kinsmen, thereby pulling the Roman and post-antique histories of archaeological sites into striking new configurations (Rose 2014, 281–283). An association such as this further highlights the liminal position of the province Asia both geographically and culturally, in that it served as a zone of intersection of East and West in a way that few other places could have.

Biographical Note C. Brian Rose is the James B. Pritchard Professor of Mediterranean Archaeology at the University of Pennsylvania, and Peter C. Ferry Curator-in-Charge of the Mediterranean Section of the Penn Museum. He has served as the President of the Archaeological Institute of America (2007–2011) and currently serves as director for the Gordion (Turkey) excavations. From 2003 to 2007, he directed the Granicus River Valley Survey Project, and served as Head of Post-Bronze Age excavations at Troy between 1988 and 2012.

Abbreviations GIBM = Greek Inscriptions in the British Museum. 1874–1916. Edited by C. T. Newton, Edward Lee Hicks, and Gustav Hirschfeld. Oxford: Clarendon Press. I Sardis = Greek and Latin Inscriptions. 1932. Edited by William Hepburn Buckler and David M. Robinson. Sardis 7.1. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. IG = Inscriptiones Graecae. 1873–. Edited by Deutsche Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin., Preussische Akademie der Wissenschaften. Berlin: G. Reimer. IGRR = Inscriptiones Graecae ad res romanas pertinentes. 1906–1927. Edited by René Cagnat and Georges Lafaye. Paris: E. Leroux IGSK = Inschriften griechischer Städte aus Kleinasien. 1972–. Ed. Helmut Engelman. Bonn: R. Habelt. IGSK Kyme = Die Inschriften von Kyme. 1976. Edited by Helmut Engelmann. Inschriften griechischer Städte aus Kleinasien 5. Bonn: R. Habelt. MAMA = Monumenta Asiae Minoris Antiqua. 1928-. Edited by W. M. Calder et al. London: Longmans, Green & Co. ltd. SNG von Aulock = Sylloge nummorum Graecorum. Deutschland: Sammlung v. Aulock. 1964. Edited by Hans von Aulock and Gerhard Kleiner. Vol. 9 (Phrygia). Berlin: Mann.



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Contents

Volume 2 22 Galatia and Pisidia Karl Strobel

492

23 Cappadocia520 Guido Rosada, Maria Teresa Lachin, and Jacopo Turchetto 24 Lycia537 Oliver Hülden 25 Pamphylia559 Matthias C. Pichler 26 Cilicia582 Dominique Krüger and Richard Posamentir 27 Syria606 Andreas Kropp 28 Cyprus632 Jody M. Gordon 29 Judaea660 Barbara Burrell 30 Arabia688 Sarah Wenner 31 Egypt712 Willeke Wendrich 32 Cyrenaica740 Susan Kane 33 Africa/Numidia/Mauretania757 David J. Mattingly 34 Lusitania781 Daniel Osland 35 Hispania Citerior and Hispania Baetica Isabel Roda and Olivia Rodríguez Gutiérrez

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viii

Contents

36 Gallia Aquitania and Gallia Lugdunensis Jane DeRose Evans

831

37 Gallia Narbonensis Ralph Haeussler

854

38 Germania880 David Wigg-Wolf 39 Britannia911 Pete Wilson Names and Places 935 Index954

CHAPTER 22

Galatia and Pisidia Karl Strobel

Galatia Geography and Early History The term “Roman Galatia” is not used here to mean the huge Roman province of that name, with its changing forms and extent (Mitchell 1993b, 151–163), but the regions of the three Galatian tribes in the first century bce, including the territories of their poleis Ancyra, Pessinus and Tavium (Figure 22.1; Schwertheim 1994; Strobel 1994, 1997, 2002a, 2007a, 2007b). This later became a Tetrarchic province, and then was divided into the early Byzantine provinces Galatia Prima and Galatia Salutaris. It extended from the mountains of the Köroğlu Dağları to the Lycaonian Plateau in the west of the Tatta Limne (Tuz Gölu), from the basin of Alaca and the mountains east of Yozgat and south of Tavium in the east to the Emir Dağları in the west. The region is characterized by hamlets and small villages, with large estates and more important villages along the major roads (Mitchell 1993a, 143–158, map 10; Gerber 2008). Nearly all rural sites in eastern Galatia show evidence of wine production in the form of grape presses. In the mountainous areas north of Ankara and south of the hilly country around Polatlı and Haymana, pasture was predominant, with grain production in between. Galatia only reached its greatest settlement density during late antiquity. In 278–277 bce, Nicomedes I, king of Bithynia, had brought to Asia Minor three relatively small migration groups of Celts – the Tolistobogii, Trocmi, and Tectosages – as mercenaries to fight against Antiochos I and his allies (Strobel 1996, 2002a, 2007a, 2009a). When the war ended in 275, in accordance with their treaty of 278, Nicomedes gave the Celts a region of Greater Phrygia west of the Halys, the Kızıl Irmak. The land east of that river became Trocmian territory, given by the kings of Pontus in 274/273 bce. By the 260s the three tribal states were firmly established, and a process of ethnogenesis, including the continuing use of Celtic language, began to create a Galatian identity in central Anatolia, which continued into late antiquity. The 183 Galatian populi (Pliny the Elder, Natural History 5.146), Celtic clans, integrated into the much bigger autochthonous population of the region, and the Galatian

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 2, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

Figure 22.1  Pre-Roman Galatia, by John Wallrodt, from Karl Strobel’s map of the Galatian states until 25 bce, in Brill’s New Pauly Suppl. I 3. Historical Atlas of the Ancient World p. 124.

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aristocracy was already Hellenized in the later third century bce. Each tribal state was organized into four tetrarchies, led by tetrarchs or overlords. After 188 the Galatians fell under Pergamene dominion, but they were declared free by Rome in 166/165 bce, thus becoming loyal Roman allies (Baltrusch and Wilker 2015; pace Coşkun 161–191 in that volume). In 65/64 bce, Pompey appointed Deiotarus I Philorhomaios sole tetrarch of the Tolistobogii, and Brogitaros of the Trocmi, while in 48 bce the elder Castor became sole tetrarch of the Tectosages. After killing his rivals, Deiotarus became tetrarch of all Galatians, and was succeeded in 41/40 by the younger Castor and in 36 by Amyntas. Roman authority gave royal titles to these tetrarchs: Amyntas, as well as being tetrarch of all Galatians, was made king of Pisidia in 39 bce. In the course of a war against the Isaurians, Amyntas was killed by the Homonadeis in 25 bce, and Rome annexed his kingdom.

Roman Galatia After annexation, Amyntas’s entire realm was organized as the province of Galatia (Figure 22.2), incorporating Pisidia, Pamphylia, Isauria, Lycaonia, Phrygia Paroreus, with Phrygian Apollonia and the Augustan colony of Pisidian Antioch; Paphlagonia was added in 6/5 bce, and Pontus Galaticus in 3/2 bce. Ancyra became the center of administration for the whole province (Haensch 1997, 277–281; Mitchell 2007). In 70 ce, Vespasian took a large part of Galatia’s territories to form a new double province of Lycia and Pamphylia, so the province lost its regions south of Phrygia Paroreus and Lycaonia (i.e., central and southern Pisidia and Pamphylia). In the Sangarios Valley, the Augustan Colonia Iulia Germa received the territory of Pessinus north of the Sivrihisar Dağları and the northwestern land of the Tolistobogii. The three Galatian tribes (now known as the Augustan Tolistobogii, the Augustan Tectosages, and the Augustan Trocmi) were organized into the Koinon of the Augustan Galatians, and their territorial names were augmented in similar fashion: Pessinus became the polis of the Sebastenoi Tolistobogioi Pessinountioi, Ancyra that of the Sebastenoi Tektosages Ankyranoi, and Tavium of the Sebastenoi Trokmoi Taouianoi (Strobel 2007a, 375–381). The meeting place of the Koinon was Ancyra, where the cult of Augustus and Rome was established and the Koinon temple built (Mitchell and French 2012, 10–13; Mitchell 2008). The Koinon’s annual officials were the Galatarch, the treasurer, the chief priest of Augustus, the sebastophantes (an office open to women), and the hierophantes (a lifetime office). The Koinon festivals of the emperors were held in Ancyra, but also in Tavium and Pessinus. The Roman road system of Galatia is documented by French (2012–2015), and inscriptions of northern Galatia by Mitchell (1982) and Wallner (2011). The coinages of the Galatian kings, the Koinon of the Galatians, Ancyra, Tavium, and Pessinus are presented in the volumes of Roman Provincial Coinage (RPC) I–IV.4 and VI–IX (Burnett et al. 1992–) thus far; Arslan (2004, 2005) also describes coins of the kings, the Koinon, and cities of Ancyra, Tavium, and Pessinus. Survey in eastern Galatia and the territory of Tavium is covered by Gerber (2008) and Strobel and Gerber (2000, 2003, 2007, 2010).

Settlement in Galatia As already mentioned, Galatia was not a highly urbanized region. Only Ancyra and Tavium had been fortified towns of the Phrygian realm. The latter was also known for its important supraregional sanctuary of Zeus Tavianos (Strabo, Geography 12.5.2), with recognized rights of asylum and a monumental bronze statue of Zeus in a hexastyle temple pictured on later coins (below). Ancyra (modern Ankara) was an important Phrygian center from the ninth to eighth century bce, as shown by twenty large tumuli and Middle Phrygian reliefs. Its urban area

Figure 22.2  The development of Galatia within the provinces of Asia Minor, by John Wallrodt, from Karl Strobel’s map in Brill’s New Pauly Suppl. I 3. Historical Atlas of the Ancient World p. 183.

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extended from what became the upper and lower Byzantine citadel (ninth century ce; Mitchell and French 2019, 56–69) over the slope to what became the temple precinct of Roma and Augustus, where Phrygian remains and fortifications were only found in deep soundings. Ancyra remained a regional center and stronghold in the Achaemenid period (Arrian, The Anabasis of Alexander 2.4.1; cf. Strabo, Geography 12.5.2), and then a small independent city state tolerated by the Galatian tribes, until Pompey gave it to the tetrarchs of the Tectosages. In 25/24 bce, the new polis of the Sebastenoi Tektosages Ankyranoi was established, with institutions such as the council and people of the Augustan Tectosages (I Ankara 10, 51, 87, 141), and including the tribal state of the Tectosages and the northeastern part of Tolistobogian territory. Roman veterans settled in Ancyra and formed the collegium veteranorum qui Ancyrae consistentes (I Ankara 164). The city was first called the metropolis of Galatia in 114–115 ce (I Ankara 78–80), a title given by Trajan when the Roman imperial army wintered in Ancyra on the march to the East (I Ankara 72). However, Ancyra was not called neokoros, temple warden of an imperial shrine, before the middle of the third century ce. Though no coins are known for the era between the reigns of Elagabalus and Valerian, Ancyra’s second neokoria is attested on coins minted for Valerian, Gallienus, and Salonina, and on a dedication for Salonina (I Ankara 20 with commentary). Valerian and his army must have passed through Ancyra on his march against Shapur I, and the city minted a huge amount of coinage to commemorate the imperial stay, to demonstrate the loyalty of the City and to provide local small change for the passage of soldiers. The Salonina base, however, was reused: originally it had commemorated another emperor, whose name was condemned and erased, and in this earlier inscription Ancyra had only one neokoria (Mitchell on I Ankara 20). The erased emperor was no doubt Philip, so the honor of neokoria had likely been granted by Gordian III or Philip himself when marching through Ancyra. The central monument of Roman Ancyra was the imperial temple dedicated to Roma and Augustus, the Sebasteion (Figure 22.3, 1; Kadıoğlu, Görkay, and Mitchell 2011, with new city plan; Bosch 1967; Mitchell and French 2012; Peschlow 2015, Mitchell and French 2019). This was a pseudo-peripteral octostyle marble temple in Corinthian style, on which the Res Gestae divi Augusti were engraved, together with a Greek translation (I Ankara 1); it stood in a large temenos on a high artificial platform. The first priest of Augustus was in office in 5/4 bce, the starting year of the imperial cult of the Koinon (list of the priests on the front anta of the temple: I Ankara 2); listed there was Pylaimenes, the son of king Amyntas and priest in 2/1 bce, who made available the place where the Sebasteion was and where the festivals took place (I Ankara 2, l. 27–29). Obviously, this refers to the part of the pre-Roman town used for the huge temenos-terrace. The temple was completed shortly before the death of Augustus and the Res Gestae inscribed soon after, along with the priest list (I Ankara 2, l. 1–80). The colonnaded street that led to the entrance of the temenos was destroyed by an earthquake, probably in the earlier sixth century ce, according to recent excavations at the north wing of the Valilik. Ancyra’s theater mixed Hellenistic and Roman elements, and was probably built in the first century ce, while the city’s great public bath complex with large palaestra dates to the time of Caracalla. The stadium was probably situated somewhere south of the bath complex. The praetorium of the governor, with its own bath, is located in the Ulus area. The city wall was built in the reign of Gallienus, under the command of the governor Aurelius Dionysius Argaeinus, and finished in 267 ce (I Ankara 120, 315b, 316, 318, 319; Mitchell and French 2019, 41–50, 57); Ancyra must have been shaken by a disastrous series of earthquakes in 262 ce, and spolia were available for the wall building. Not all spolia in the small known sections of the wall should be attributed to the third century, however, because several repairs must have happened after earthquakes. Towers were probably added in the fourth century by two governors and an equestrian official (I Ankara 320–322), and the city wall was finally destroyed due to Persian and Arab attacks between 622 and 838.



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Figure 22.3  City plan of Ancyra, by John Wallrodt, from Kadıoğlu, Görkay, and Mitchell 2011.

Tavium (Taouion, Taouia, Tabia) developed on a north–south slope from the tells of Büyük- and Küçükkale to the level of the mountain plateau, with the tell of Zeğrek Tepe in the middle. Its ruins were systematically destroyed in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and the material reused for buildings in villages and the city of Yozgat. In the nineteenth century the urban area was terraced for vineyards, gardens, and fields, burying or destroying the ancient remains (Strobel and Gerber 2000, 2003, 2007, 2010; Strobel 2009; Christof and Erath-Koiner 2005, 2010; Weber-Hiden 2003). This was the site of the major fortified regional center Tawiniya in the later Early and Middle Bronze Age. Situated only 20 km south of the Hittite capital Hattuša, it became an important Hittite cult center, where the king celebrated annual religious ceremonies. After the end of the Hittite Empire and the royal cult in the first half of the twelfth century bce, religious life in Tavium changed from the Hattian tradition to the cult of the Luwian storm and weather god Tarḫunza, later identified with Zeus Tavianos, whose temple and precinct

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already existed in Hellenistic times, probably on Zeğrek Tepe. Below it was a theater of later Hellenistic date, certainly connected with the cult of Zeus Tavianos: it was basically cut into the rock of Zeğrek Tepe, and measured 115 m in length and 20 m in height, seating around 10,000 spectators. Zeus Tavianos, later known as Jupiter Tavianus, was represented by a famous colossal bronze statue (Strabo, Geography 12.5.2); the cult’s renown spread beyond its region, and the temple obtained the international right of asylia in Hellenistic times. From 272 bce, Tavium became part of the Trocmian tribal state and seat of its leading aristocracy, who were buried in tumuli around the town. Most prominent is the Danacı Tumulus, where a monumental Hellenistic lion sculpture of the earlier second century bce was found. On the rocky promontory of Büyükkale, the former Bronze Age citadel, a Hellenistic fortress was built with a tunnel cut into the rock – a typical feature of central Anatolian fortresses of the time. The Trocmi were organized into the polis of the Sebastenoi Trokmoi Taouianoi in 21/20 bce, the starting point of the local era. Its own imperial cult within the Koinon is attested in I Ankara 2. The fortified area of the city was ca. 55–60 ha in size in the first century bce, and the city itself about 90–100 ha in Roman times, excluding the suburban areas. The monumentalization of the city dates from late Flavian to Hadrianic and Severan times; building activities also flourished in late antiquity and the early Byzantine period. The late Roman city wall, with half-round towers, was built without spolia, probably around 400 ce. Tavium had been a production center of painted Kızıl Irmak Ware in the Hellenistic period, and then of so-called Galatian Ware, a typical central Anatolian fineware, in Roman times; the region continued to produce lustrous and red slip ware into late antiquity. The territory of Tavium holds two examples of Hellenistic estates transformed into Roman villas. That at Karacaağaç had a main building with baths, while that at Haydarbeyli features marble blocks from a large round burial monument built in the first century ce by the Galatian aristocrats Athenais and Deiotaros for their father Amyntas (Mitchell and French 2012, 14–15; Strobel 2007, 385–390). The temple-state of Pessinus emerged during the period of the Diadochi, probably under Lysimachos after 301 bce (Strobel 2003–2007, 2007). It centered on the cult of Kybele, the Phrygian Matar Kubileia (mountain-mother; Meter Pissinous according to Strabo, Geography 10.3.12; Matar Dindymene is a second mountain cult on the Dindymon/Arayit Dağı). A fortified residence of the ruling high priest was built in the first half of the third century bce on a low promontory in the valley of the sacred Gallos river, over a very modest late Phrygian settlement (best overview in Verlinde 2015; further Strobel 2003–2007; Claerhout and Devreker 2008; Strubbe 2005; nothing genuinely new from the Melbourne Pessinus Project, Tsetskhadze 2013, 2019). Before 226 bce, Attalos I of Pergamon built a Greek marble temple and precinct for Kybele at Pessinus; his predecessor Philetairos had built the first temple of Kybele on the Mamurt Kale near Pergamon, so Attalos was establishing an outpost of Pergamene influence against the Galatians and the Seleucids. In 205/204 bce, Attalos I mediated the transfer of the holy stone (baitylos) from Pessinus to Rome, where the Magna Mater cult was installed; from this point the cult in Pessinus became famous worldwide. The settlement grew through the second century bce, and its material culture changed, with Pergamene imports predominating. Pessinus remained allied with the Attalids, and was favored by the Romans after 129 bce. The fortified residence of the high priest was enlarged and a second complex, probably a palaestra, was built around 120 bce. This was destroyed by fire ca. 80-75 bce and not rebuilt. In Pompey’s reorganization of Asia Minor in 64 bce, the temple-state came under the control of Deiotarus, was given by Clodius to Brogitarus in 58–56 bce, and then returned to Deiotarus; from 36 bce it became part of Amyntas’s realm. In 25/24 bce, the northern part of the territory was detached for the veteran colony Germa,



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and the remaining part was combined with the middle and southern part of the Tolistobogian territory and organized as the new polis of the Sebastenoi Tolistobogioi Pessinountioi. The earlier Phrygian cult area of the mountain goddess Matar Agdistis/Pessinous is north of Pessinus at Tekören, where a dense occupation is attested from Bronze to Iron Age, near an ancient volcano, the sacred mount Agdos (Strobel 2003–2007, 210–216). The site of the Hellenistic and Roman sanctuary is still unknown, and was certainly not located in the deep valley of Pessinus’s urban area (Figure 22.4). There Hellenistic buildings were torn down and an area leveled for the terraced precinct of a hexastyle marble temple of the imperial cult parallel to that of Roma and Augustus at Ancyra, built perhaps starting in ce 8/9, and inaugurated around 15 ce (Verlinde 2015). In front of the temple, a theatral stairway was constructed for the gladiatorial games connected with festivals of the imperial cult; it was rebuilt in Severan times. Pessinus’s second Augustan urban project was the canalization of the Gallos River, which flowed through the city. Several sections of the quay walls were flanked by colonnades and porticoes. There was a Severan period restoration of this as well, and a monumental arch was built at the city entrance to honor that dynasty. The theater, repaired or built under Hadrian, is now totally dismantled, as are the gymnasium and the baths, which were still visible in 1951. Only a late antique basilica has been partially excavated, and there has been survey and some excavation of the extensive cemeteries, as well as research on a small Byzantine fortress. Roman military presence in Galatia has now been located in Boğazköy-Ḫattuša, where an early Roman fortification and a luxurious Roman villa were found in the lower section of the former Hittite capital (Schachner 2015, 83–92, 2018, 17–38, 2019, 58–83, 2020, 31–45).

Figure 22.4  Plan of Pessinus, by John Wallrodt, from Claerhout and Devreker 2008.

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These finds give credence to Pliny’s reference (Natural History 4.143) to Atussa, a huge ancient city in the hinterland of Bithynia, whose name probably refer to the ancient Hittite capital. As well as some remains of a small Hellenistic Galatian settlement, those of a castrum of ca 250 × 200 m, with 6 m-wide drystone wall foundations for an upper mudbrick structure, document the first known Roman military stronghold built in central Galatia after the annexation of 25 bce. Within were found contemporary buildings of two phases, but without diagnostic finds. Thus, the castrum was only used temporarily at first, and later its inner buildings were altered, and some structures even built onto the fortification’s outer front. Contrary to Schachner’s dating, the terminus ante quem for the fortress wall’s demolition is given by two Neronian bronze coins, one minted by the Koinon of the Galatians in 65–66 ce (RPC I 3563A, cf. RPC I 3463; for the date, Giard 2000, Néron no. 89 and 122). There is no reason to suggest a military presence here in the middle of the first century ce, especially after the annexation of Cappadocia in 17 ce, and the C14 dates given by Schachner (2019, 63) strongly indicate use in Augustan and Tiberian times. After the inner buildings were demolished, part of the area was used for burials in the first and second centuries ce. The villa, probably built in Hadrianic times, had a main building with bath, a park with water installations, and a huge (55 × 18 m) pool, all connected by porticoes. A banquet room with luxurious decoration and wall-paintings opened to the pool, which ended in a complex structure with a big niche cut into the rock of Mıhraplıkaya. Several alterations were made until a last phase in the second half of the fourth century ce, when the pool was being used for buildings and drystone walls were built in the main complex. Also dating from the Roman period are graves of the first to fourth centuries ce, and there are ruins of an early to middle Byzantine settlement (fifth/sixth to eleventh century) in the upper town, including a small monastery (Schachner 2011, 331–338, 2018, 13–17, 2019, 58–59; Böhlendorf-Arslan 2019). The Augustan veteran colony of Colonia Iulia Germa, later Germokoloneia, was founded at Babadat after 25/24 bce (Belke 1984, 168–169; Strobel 2004, 1008, 954). No remains are visible, and the Turkish excavations of 1981 remain unpublished (Gürkan 1984, 325–331). There is evidence for a few smaller settlements in Galatia. Bazlamaç in eastern Galatia is a typical large village, with a public bath. Aspona, later a Byzantine suffragan bishopric, was only a road station in Roman times; nothing remains of it, which is also true of Kinna (Belke 1984, 135, 189–190). Malos (Kalecyk) on the Halys, one of the larger villages of the area, was the site of the martyrion of Saint Theodotos of Ancyra, executed in 312 ce (Belke 1984, 201–202).

Pisidia Geography and Early History In geographic terms, Pisidia (Figure 22.5) is the western part of the central Taurus Mountains, with Isauria and then Rough Cilicia to its east, the Milyas and Caria to the west, Pamphylia and the Lycian Kabalia in the south, and Phrygia Paroreus, or Phrygian Pisidia, to the north (Strabo, Geography 12.7.1–2, 12.8.13–14, 13.4.17, 14.3.9; Claudius Ptolemaeus, Geography 5.3.7–8, 5.6.16). When Antony appointed Amyntas king of Pisidia in 39 bce, the Phrygian borderland of Phrygia Paroreus was added to his realm, and later became Phrygian Pisidia in the Roman province Galatia. The mountain ranges of the Poyralı, Karakuş and Sultan Dağı



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Figure 22.5  Map of Pisidia, including Phrygia Paroreus, by John Wallrodt from Mitchell 1993a, map 1.

form the borders of Pisidia and Phrygian Pisidia to Greater Phrygia. The topography of Pisidia is characterized by the high mountain ranges of the central Taurus and fertile valleys abundant in water. Larger agricultural areas are the plains of Burdur, Senirkent (ancient Apollonia), Yalvaç (Antioch) and around Seleukeia Sidera and Neapolis. Three great lakes lie between the mountain ranges: Burdur Gölü (ancient Askania Limne), Beyşehir Gölü (Pusguse Limne), and Hoyran/Eğridir Gölü. The river systems of the Kestros (modern Aksu Çay) and the Eurymedon (Köprü Çay) drained southern Pisidia to the Mediterranean. The historical geography of Pisidia, including description of sites and detailed maps, is provided in Belke and Mersich (1990); see also Lanckoronski (1892) and von Aulock (1977–1979). The southern part is included in Hellenkemper and Hild (2004), also with detailed maps. Concerning toponyms and ethnonyms, see Zgusta (1984) and Locatelli (2017). In general, see Brandt (1992), Schwertheim (1992), French (1994), and Metin and Ekinci (2015); for regional differences, see Waelkens and Vandeput (2007).

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Inscriptions were published by Bean (1959–1960), Horsley (2007), Horsley and Mitchell (2000), and Iversen (2015). The cults since the fourth century bce were described by Talloen (2015), and epichoric sanctuaries and cults in northern Pisidia by Özcan et al. (2019). Aspects of Hellenization were discussed by Mitchell (1991a), and Romanization by Waelkens (2002) and Mitchell (1993a and b); on both, Mitchell (2003b) and Vandeput (2007). The civic coinage of the Pisidian cities has been assembled by von Aulock (1977–1979) and the series Roman Provincial Coinage (I–IV.4 and VI–IX thusfar), as well as Stroobants (2014). Preliminary reports on surveys are published in the annual Araştırma Sonuçları Toplantısı. The results of the Phrygia Paroreus survey were summarized by Bru (2016a, 2017); on survey in northwestern Pisidia, see Hürmüzlü (2009b). An intensive regional survey is part of the Sagalassos Project (Vanhaverbeke and Waelkens 2003). The Pisidian Survey Project of the British Institute of Archaeology at Ankara has focused on areas of central and southern Pisidia and on Pisidian Antioch (Mitchell 1998; http://Pisidia.org). The Isparta Archaeological Survey is directed by B. Hürmüzlü, and the Kuzey Pisidia Yüzey Araştırma by F. Özcan (Özcan et al. 2019). The Pisidian language falls within the Carian-Lycian-Milyan dialect continuum of the Anatolian-Luwian language group (Brixhe 2016; Simon 2017; Melchert 2003, 176–177; for the Luwians see Melchert 2003; Mouton, Rutherford, and Yakubovich 2013), and was still used in inscriptions until the second century bce, after which Greek became the written language. Nonetheless, Luwian and its dialects were still spoken in the Taurus area into the fifth and sixth centuries ce, especially in the countryside and by common townspeople (Brixhe 2010). Although there are epichoric Luwian place names going back to the Bronze Age, evidence for prehistoric settlement patterns in Pisidia is still insufficient, and only glimpses from a few sites are available (Mitchell and Vandeput 2013). The lack of knowledge and research on the Middle and Late Bronze and Iron Ages is clearly reflected in Steadman and McMahon (2011), and surveys have concentrated on Hellenistic, Roman and Byzantine remains. The situation is comparable to that of Lycia, where many place names were attested in Hittite texts, and settlement mounds could precede Iron Age mountain settlements. Until now, systematic chronological analysis of regional pottery in southwest Anatolia has been lacking (Rückert and Kolb 2003; Kolb 2018, 45–55, is not convincing). Even the development and chronological classification of pottery between the Early Bronze Age and pre-Hellenistic times is still quite unclear. In the important city Parḫa/Perge, where until recently only scattered prehistoric local pottery was known, the continuity from Chalcolithic and Early Bronze Age to the seventh-sixth centuries bce is now attested by stratigraphy and building remains in deep soundings (Umurtak 2003; Martini, Eschbach, and Recke 2010). In the northwestern Lycian Kabalia, intensive research at Çaltılar Höyük shows continuous occupation from the fourth millennium to the sixth century bce, then a Hellenistic and Roman settlement; on Eceler Höyük, a mound and lower settlement of 15 ha, there is a gap in the second millennium bce, then continuity from the Early Iron Age to Roman times (Aksoy and Köse 2005; Momigliano et al. 2011, 2013). Results from the survey of Prostama/Prostan(n)a, a central Pisidian polis in a strategic position at the southern end of Lake Eğridir (Belke and Mersich 1990, 264), were limited due to problematic surface conditions: the badly preserved acropolis had early Hellenistic fortifications, reworked in late antiquity and restored in Byzantine times, while below was the lower town with an agora and built-up terraces. Civic coins were minted from the first century bce to Claudius Gothicus. The opinion (Kızılyaçın and Özcan 2016) that the city was a later Hellenistic foundation is misleading; the holy Ouiaros mountain (Eğridir Sivrisi), a sanctuary of Zeus, surely goes back to Luwian prehistory (Özcan et al. 2019, 372; Talloen 2015, 54–56), and pre-Hellenistic and even early handmade pottery is found in illicit digs.



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Roman Pisidia Roman supremacy after 129–126 bce did not develop into closer control or direct rule in Pisidia. During his rule over Pisidia in 39–25 bce, King Amyntas tried to establish a central monarchic authority, and after his death the Pisidian cities were incorporated into the new Galatian provincial complex. The pacification of the Taurus regions (Mitchell 1993a, 70–79; Strobel 2002b) and especially of Isauria was achieved during the campaigns of L. Calpurnius Piso in 17–13 bce, P. Sulpicius Quirinus in 5–3 bce (Strabo, Geography 12.6.5; Tacitus Annals 3.18.1), and M. Plautius Silvanus in 5–7 ce (Cassius Dio 55.28.3). To establish the geographic extent of Pisidia in imperial times, it is best to follow Claudius Ptolemaeus (Geography 5.4.11), who listed Apollonia, Pisidian Antioch, Amblada, and Neapolis as cities in the Galatian part of Pisidia, i.e., Phrygia Paroreus (Strabo, Geography 12.8.13–14). In the province Pamphylia (i.e., Lycia-Pamphylia) he placed Pisidian Seleukeia/ Seleukeia Sidera in the Pamphylian Phrygian Pisidia (i.e., on the border to Phrygia Paroreus), then the cities of Pamphylian Pisidia: Prostama, Olbasa, Dyrzela, Orbanassa, Talbonda, Kremna, Komama, Pednelissos, Uinzela, and Selge (Geography 5.5.4, 8), though Sagalassos was mistakenly placed in Lycia (Geography 5.3.6). Strabo, Geography (12.7.2–3, based on Artemidorus) listed the following Pisidian towns: Selge, Sagalassos, Petnelissos, Adada, Timbriada, Kremna, Tityassos, Amblada, Anabura, Sinda, Aarassos (i.e., Ariassos), Tarbassos, and Termessos. Other Pisidian poleis are not mentioned in literary sources – for example, the small polis of Kapıkaya, a mountain stronghold 1740 m a.s.l. now identified as Typallion, with agora, stoa, bouleuterion, and a late antique church (Mitchell 1994a; Belke and Mersich 1990, 287–288; Waelkens et al. 1997, 21–28). The well-known Pisidian city of Termessos (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 878–882; TAM III 1; Mitchell 1994a), which Alexander the Great could not conquer in 334 (Arrian, The Anabasis of Alexander 1.27), developed into the leading power not just in southwest Pisidia but in northeastern Lycia, and remained largely independent (Lex Antonia de Termessibus, ILS 38  =  Fontes Iuris Romani Anteiustiniani I 38) until it came under the jurisdiction of the governor of Lycia in 43 ce; it came into the province of Lycia-Pamphylia in 70 ce and was incorporated into the region of Pamphylian Kabalia. Amblada (Belke 1984, 122), in the border region of Pisidia, Isauria and Lycaonian Phrygia south of Lake Beyşehir, later became part of Lycaonia. The Pisidian poleis of Pednelissos, Ariassos, and Panemoteichos came into northern Pamphylia in 70 ce (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 790–792, 450–451, 775–776; on Pednelissos now Behrwald 2003; Behrwald and Brandt 2009, 2016; on Ariassos Mitchell 1991b; Schulz 1992; Horsley and Mitchell 2000, 114–143), and so did Orbanassa, Talbonda, and Uinzela (on their locations, see Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 765, 870, 906). Claudius Ptolemaeus (Geography 5.5.6) located Ariarassos, Termessos, and Sinda (Hall 1994) in the Pamphylian Kabalia. Augustus established the veteran colony Colonia Iulia Augusta Cremnensium in the important Pisidian polis of Kremna (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 662– 666; Mitchell 1995; Horsley and Mitchell 2000, 11–93), which was conquered by Amyntas in 38/37 bce and incorporated into Pamphylia in 70 ce. Similarly, the polis Komama in the northeastern Milyas (Strabo, Geography 13.4.7, 14.3.9; Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 650–651) also got an Augustan veteran colony, Colonia Iulia Augusta Prima Fida Comama, and was added to Pamphylia in 70 ce; and Olbasa received the Augustan veteran colony Colonia Iulia Augusta Olbasena (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 754–755). The definition of Pisidia as a Roman province is difficult because of multiple changes in its administrative structure after the annexation of the kingdom of Amyntas in 25 bce (Strabo, Geography 12.5.1, 12.7.3, 12.6.5; Mitchell 1993b, 151–163; Magie 1950, passim), when Pisidia proper with the important mountain cities of Sagalassos, Kremna, and Selge was incorporated into the new province Galatia. South of Pisidia, Claudius made the Lycian Koinon into the new province Lycia, which included Carian Kaunos, in 43 ce. Then

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Vespasian reorganized the Anatolian provinces in 70 ce (Şahin and Adak 2007, esp. 49–93; Takmer 2007; Eck, Işkan-Işık, and Engelmann 2008; Eck 2012, 36–37 on Lycia, but 38–39 outdated on Lycia-Pamphylia; Iplikçoğlu 2008; Adak and Wilson 2012). Pamphylia was still part of the province Galatia in Claudian and Neronian times (Şahin and Adak 2007, 87–91). The opinion that the double province of Lycia et Pamphylia already existed under Claudius instead of being created by Vespasian is obsolete: the governor of Galatia, L. Nonius Calpurnius Asprenas (Reynolds and Ward Perkins 1952, 346), was still present in Perge in later 69 or early 70 ce (IGSK Perge II 466). The last governor of Lycia was Sex. Marcius Priscus, from 63 to the first half of 70 ce (Eck, Işkan-Işık, and Engelmann 2008; Adak and Wilson 2012, 13–14). Then in 70–72 ce, Cn. Avidius Celer Rutilius Lupus Fiscillius Firmus became the first governor of the new double province Lycia et Pamphylia (Adak and Wilson 2012, 11–28), and took charge of organizing Vespasian’s new enlarged administrative unit. At the same time, P. Anicius Maximus, born in Pisidian Antioch, held the new office of financial procurator of Galatia, Pontus (Galaticus) and Lycia et Pamphylia (Adak and Wilson 2012, 22–25). The Vespasiansmonument (Adak and Wilson 2012) on the Via Sebaste, dating in the first half of 72 ce, documented the incorporation of the territory of Pisidian Ariassos and Panemoteichos into the new province. Thus, in 70 ce, Pisidia proper and the central and southern part of Galatian Pisidia were detached from Galatia and incorporated into the new administrative complex of Roman Pamphylia. Only the northern part, Phrygian Pisidia, remained in the province Galatia, as the district Pisidia. The proposal of Marc Waelkens (2002, 324–328, 248–250, 2015, 178–199, 2018, 10) that the Pisidian cities were only added to Lycia-Pamphylia under Hadrian ca. 117–119 ce, and that Pisidia had been part of the Province Asia since Flavian times, is misleading and outdated, as is his interpretation of the Temple of Apollo Klarios (IGSK Sagalassos 20 with commentary; Eck 2013 on IGSK Sagalassos 19). The Sagalassian honorific statue for Sex. Iulius Frontinus (IGSK Sagalassos 39, with commentary; Adak and Wilson 2012, 20–21) mentions his title only as proconsul, and was thus dedicated during his term in the province Asia in 84/85 ce. Although he was honored as a benefactor, this does not mean that Sagalassos or other Pisidian cities were part of Asia at that time. Under the Tetrarchy, certainly before 311 ce (AE 1999, 1611–1620), central and northern Pisidia – together with Phrygia Paroreus, the region south of the Sultan Dağları and previously part of the province of Galatia – were organized as a new province of Pisidia. This province also included the western part of Lycaonia and the easternmost part of the former province of Phrygia et Caria established in 250 ce. Southern Pisidia remained in LyciaPamphylia, but Sagalassos, bearing the titles “metropolis, first city of the Pisidians, twice neokoros, friend and ally of the Romans,” returned to the new late antique province (IGSK Sagalassos 65 with commentary). Pisidian Antioch, however, was not just the new Pisidian province’s metropolis but residence of its praeses (provincial governor), and also became its ecclesiastical center, seat of the metropolitan bishop. Thus, the best definition of Roman Pisidia proper is the late antique Pisidian province and its cities: Apollonia, later called Sozopolis, in Phrygia Paroreus (Belke and Mersich 1990, 387–388; Thonemann 2013, XIII and nos. 1–21); Baris on the border toward Milyas (Pliny, Natural History 5.147; Belke and Mersich 1990, 206); Seleukeia Sidera; Pisidian Antioch; Pisidian Neapolis and Anaburna, both in the Killanion plain, the southeasternmost part of the Paroreus (Belke and Mersich 1990, 347, 182–183; Bru 2017, 164–182); and in central Pisidia, Sagalassos; Adada (Belke and Mersich 1990, 170; Brandt 2002); Prostama/Prostan(n)a (Belke and Mersich 1990, 364; Kızılyaçın and Özcan 2016); Timbriada/Timbrias (Belke and Mersich 1990, 405– 406; Kaya and Mitchell 1985); Malos (Belke and Mersich 1990, 334); Dyrzela/Zorzela (Belke and Mersich 1990, 421; Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 924); Tarbassos (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 870–871); and Tityassos (Belke and Mersich 1990, 406–407).



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Settlement in Pisidia In contrast to Galatia, Pisidia in late pre-Hellenistic and Hellenistic times was a region of larger and smaller city-states dominating valleys or plains and organized as poleis. Hellenic urban structure and forms of political organization had spread among the southern cities of Pisidia since the fifth century bce, and throughout the region from the third to first centuries bce. Urban structures and communal buildings developed and flourished in the second century bce (Mitchell 1992). The strategic key to control of Pisidia was the Via Sebaste, running from Perge to Komama, Apollonia, Antioch, and on to Iconium (map in Mitchell 1993a, 78), built (or rather finished) in 6 bce under the governor Cornutus Arruntius Aquila. The Legio VII Macedonica, later VII Claudia Pia Fidelis, and auxiliary units were garrisoned in Pisidian Antioch until 13/14 ce (Strobel 2002b), and as mentioned, Roman veteran colonies were established in Olbasa, Komama, Kremna, Antioch, and in Parlais/Parlaos on the western shore of Lake Eğridir (Iulia Augusta Colonia Parlais: Levick 1970; Belke and Mersich 1990, 356; Özsait 2004), as well as in Iconium and Lystra in Lycaonia and Ninica in Cilicia. The foundation of these Augustan veteran colonies (Augustus, Res Gestae 28; Levick 1967; Mitchell 1993a, 73–79, 90–91; Bru 2009; Labarre 2016) as well as the settlement of veterans outside the colonies, brought the next step of political and cultural evolution in the region. This process is best documented in Pisidian Antioch, Asia Minor’s “New Rome,” and in the city of Sagalassos, as will be seen. Typical signs of the political and cultural influence of Roman rule include the following: ● ● ●

Public baths, temples, and monuments (Sebasteia) for the cult of the emperors Honorific statues and arches Honors given by the council and people of the cities to governors, high officials, senatorial and equestrian patrons, and benefactors

The most important inner development is the incorporation of local and regional elites into the Roman aristocracy, starting in late Flavian to Trajanic times and culminating in the late second century ce. A good example of a Pisidian town is Pednelissos, in the border region of Pisidia and Pamphylia (Strabo, Geography 14.4.2; Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 790–792; Işın 1998; Behrwald 2003; Behrwald and Brandt 2009, 2016; Laufer 2010). The city bears a typical Luwian epichoric name but was organized as a polis in the third century bce at latest. In 218 bce, the aggressive and expansionist city of Selge attacked Pednelissos, but Achaios came to its assistance (Polybius 5.72–77). Eumenes II (in the 160s) and Attalos II (in the early 150s) also campaigned in Southern Pisidia and against Selge (Pompeius Trogus 34; Polybius 31.9; Hopp 1977, 70–75). A late Hellenistic lex sacra (SEG 15, 823) called Pednelissos a polis of the Galatians; this must go back to Galatian mercenaries of Attalos II stationed there as a safeguard against Selge. Pednelissos developed extensively in the second century bce, when the agora, the temple of Apollo, and a second and extended fortification were built (Laufer 2010, 168, 173). Civic coinage apparently started in the first century bce and continued sporadically until Gallienus. The imperial cult had its own temple (Behrwald 2003, no. 3). A small, local elite controlled the priesthoods and the magistrates, receiving Roman citizenship only under Caracalla in 212 ce. Communal life continued in the Hellenistic tradition, with little sign of cultural Romanization. The large and fertile territory of Pednelissos is characterized by small villages and hamlets with installations for olive oil production. The famous, wealthy, and powerful Pisidian mountain city of Selge itself, on the border of the Pamphylian plain (Strabo, Geography 12.7.1–3; Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 835–838; Nollé 1991), became a Hellenized polis early, though its fifth and fourth century bce coinage used Pamphylian script and language. It was part of the realm of Amyntas, passed on his death into the province Galatia, and in 70 ce became part of Pamphylia.

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A characteristic example of smaller Pisidian poleis (see Deppmeyer 2005) is the wealthy mountain town at Melli/Kocaaliler, west of the middle Kestros and south of Kremna (Vandeput, Köse, and Aydal 1999; Vandeput and Köse 2001; 2002; Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 733–734). Its ancient name is not known; the identification with Milyas, mentioned in Claudius Ptolemaeus (Geography 5.3.6) together with Ariassos, Korbasa/Kolbasa, and Termessos in the Pamphylian Kabalia, is not probable (pace Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 733–734). Dominating a small plain, the town’s Hellenistic city wall with towers and a main gate incorporating some earlier wall sections, its small theater, and its agora with impressively fronted market building were all built in the second century bce and indicate the town’s structure as a polis. Several statue bases for emperors (first under Domitian) and governors were dedicated by the city’s council and people (Horsley and Mitchell 2000, 153–167; Mitchell 2003a). A temple was built in the first to second century ce and a Sebasteion near the city gate under Antoninus Pius. In the necropolis, impressive funerary temples (heroa), monuments, and sarcophagi show the wealth of the local elite. Several churches were built in late antique times. Without doubt, this smaller Pisidian town remained in the province Pamphylia after 70 ce. In the territories of cities large and small, but also of large estates, were villages (komai) without the privileges of a polis but often with their own communal organization (a demos) and impressive communal buildings, imperial dedications, and later, churches (Schuler 1998). A good example is Sia, a dependent village of Ariassos in Roman times (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 843–844; Horsley and Mitchell 2000, 144–152). This mountain settlement already had many characteristics of a town in Hellenistic times: a massive city wall of the third to second century bce with towers and gates, an acropolis fortification of the first century bce, a stoa and agora, a bouleuterion, and two temples. It seems to have lost its status as an independent polis, however, under Amyntas or during the Augustan organization of the Taurus regions at latest. Its Roman agora stood outside the Hellenistic fortification, as did its three temples, a palaestra, public baths, and several Byzantine churches. The Sebasteion on the Roman agora (Horsley and Mitchell 2000, 144–146 and figs. 54–55) had dedications for the Severan dynasty and Gallienus within, and a larger number of statue bases around it, one probably for Marcus Aurelius. Another important village, Tymandos in the territory of Apollonia, had institutions of self-government, and was granted the status of a city by Diocletian in 294-305 ce (ILS 6090 = MAMA IV, 236 = AE 2009, 1474; pace Bru, Labarre, and Ozsait 2009, misleading in the historical discussion, esp. re. Apollonia; Belke and Mersich 1990, 408–409; Hürmüzlü 2009a). Not all Pisidian mountain strongholds developed into Hellenistic or Roman/ Byzantine cities, however. An example is Sandalion (Sandal Asar), the only one not conquered by Amyntas (Strabo, Geography 12.6.4; Mitchell 1994a; Belke and Mersich 1990, 369–370). The site of Düzen Tepe, 2 km away from Sagalassos and its earlier regional center, covering an area of ca. 50 ha, including a separate acropolis, was protected by a massive fortification; this traditional Iron Age settlement flourished during the Achaemenid period, but was abandoned after a decline in the second century bce (Vanhaverbeke and Waelkens 2003; Daems, Braekmans, and Poblome 2017). The Sagalassos Survey also detected several mountain sites of the Early and Middle Iron Age in the city’s later territory, some fortified, others pre-urban; they include the former independent centers Hisar and Kepez Kale (Waelkens et al. 1997; Vanhaverbeke and Waelkens 2003, esp. 18–53, 195–224). The fortified Iron Age mountain settlements of Kayışkale and Kökez Kale originated in the ninth to eighth century bce at latest, and were abandoned after the third century bce, absorbed by the growing power of Sagalassos (Vanhaverbeke and Waelkens 2009; Poblome et al. 2019). In contrast, Panemoteichos, although near Ariassos, persisted as an independent city (Mitchell 1994b, 136–144; Aydal et al. 1997; Horsley and Mitchell 2000, 111–113; Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 775–776). A massive fortification with three gates and several towers was built there during the Iron Age (eighth to sixth century bce), as well as a



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pre-classical temple with antae. Pottery finds attest Early Iron Age occupation on the height, with settlement below. In later Hellenistic times, the settlement on the top was rebuilt and habitation terraces built on the slopes; in Roman times the town concentrated in the lower city (Panemoteichos II). An aqueduct, public baths, and a modest podium temple for the imperial cult were built, and the city minted coins from Septimius Severus to Gallienus. All the cities in the northern part of Roman Pisidia (Phrygia Paroreus) were Seleucid foundations under Antiochos I. They include the dominant city of Antioch; Apollonia, in whose temenos of the Theoi Sebastoi a Greek copy of the Res Gestae was engraved (Cooley 2009, 13–18), and which was known in Byzantine times as Sozopolis (Labarre et al. 2012; van der Linde 2019); Seleukeia Sidera, part of whose pre-Hellenistic fortification is preserved (Belke and Mersich 1990, 378; Hürmüzlü et al. 2017); and Neapolis (Belke and Mersich 1990, 347). A second center of the Augustan province Galatia was Pisidian Antioch, which became the Augustan veteran colony Colonia Caesarea Antiochia (Gazda and Ng 2011; Ramsay 1907, 245–314; Calder 1912; Mitchell and Waelkens 1998; Drew Bear, Taşhalan, and Thomas 2002; Byrne and Labarre 2006; Bru 2009, 2016b, 2017). The colony was established after 25/24 bce in the Hellenistic town, so no Roman forum was built; all visible remains of the city belong to the Roman or Byzantine periods. The central monument is the Augustan sanctuary (Rubin 2011). Its propylon was a triumphal arch dedicated to Augustus in 2 bce, celebrating his victories and inscribed with the Latin Res Gestae. This led into a large, colonnaded plaza with a two-storied semicircular porticus, partly cut into the rock, in the rear. In the center of this hemicycle stood the prostyle temple, certainly finished before 2 bce, and before it the altar dedicated to Jupiter Optimus Maximus, Augustus, and the Genius Coloniae. In contrast to the Temple of Roma and Augustus in Ancyra, the Roman colonists worshipped the highest Roman god, with Augustus and the Genius of the Colony as his synnaoi theoi. In the first century ce Antioch’s monumental aqueduct, a nymphaeum, and a theater were completed, but the peak of its urban development was in the second century, when baths and a monumental arched city gate honoring Hadrian and Sabina were built. A mountain sanctuary for the city’s prominent cult of the lunar deity Mên Askaênos had originated in Hellenistic times and flourished in the second century ce, when the precinct and peripteral temple were rebuilt; the cult prospered to the end of the third century (Labarre 2010; Raff and Kathchadourian 2011). Sagalassos was a polis by early Hellenistic times (IGSK Sagalassos 1 and 2) and already important in 334 bce (Arrian, The Anabasis of Alexander 1.28; overview in Waelkens 2002, 2018, 2019; Köse 2005; on architecture, Vandeput 1997, 2002; on coinage, Van Heesch and Stroobants 2015). The city dominated fertile valleys and extended its territory to the Burdur plain (Vanhaverbeke and Waelkens 2003, 2009; Vermoere 2004). An important innovation for the city's economy was Sagalassos Red Slip Ware, a fine tableware in Roman-Italian style, whose preindustrial production began in Augustan times; this was surely connected with the new market offered by veterans settled in the area (Poblome 1999; Willet 2012, 145–205, 2018; Willet and Poblome 2015; Van der Enden, Poblome, and Bes 2014). Sagalassos’s built area became three times larger in the first century ce, a process of monumentalization that started in Augustan times when the Temple of Apollo Klarios, the first sanctuary for the communal imperial cult, was built (IGSK Sagalassos 20 with commentary; Talloen and Waelkens 2004–2005). It was rebuilt early in Antoninus Pius’s reign (Eck 2013). The city’s first monumental nymphaeum was dedicated to Trajan in 116/117 ce (IGSK Sagalassos 15), the second under Hadrian (IGSK Sagalassos 17), along with the great baths, which were only finished in late Severan times (IGSK Sagalassos 23). The city’s second sanctuary for the imperial cult was a temple dedicated to Antoninus Pius, his entire house, and the gods of the fatherland (IGSK Sagalassos 19 with commentary). The temple cannot be connected with Hadrian, pace Vandeput (1997) and Waelkens (2015), who postulated that the temple was built under Hadrian for a central imperial cult of Pisidia. Though Sagalassos was called “First City of Pisidia” at that time, this does not mean that it was

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the central city of a Pisidian koinon within the province Lycia and Pamphylia, as Vitale (2012, 140–142) and Waelkens (2018, 10) believed; the same title is given to Selge and the Colonia Comama, so this is an honorific primacy. The title “twice neokoros” is documented on milestones in the territory of Sagalassos only between 293/305 and 340/350 ce (Burrell 2004, 266–269), but not on the coins still minted by the city in the reign of Claudius II Gothicus. Therefore, it can be assumed that the city established two specific divine cults for Diocletianus Augustus Iovius and Maximianus Augustus Herculius in the context of the organization of the new province Pisidia, and got the title twice neokoros at once and unusually late.

Further Reading A comprehensive history of Asia Minor is provided by Marek (2010). For the Anatolian provinces in general, see Mitchell (1993a, 59–259, 1993b); Sartre (1995, 2001); Bru, Kirbihler, and Lebreton (2009); Bru and Labarre (2013); and Ramsay (1941); Ramsay (1890) is still important. Magie (1950) gives a comprehensive study of the Roman impact in Asia Minor; also see Vitale (2012). For religious developments in Roman times and into early Christianity/late antiquity, see Mitchell (1993b); Gwynn and Bangert (2010); Lavan and Mulryan (2011); and Pettegrew, Caraher, and Davis (2019). For the cities of the eastern provinces, Schwertheim and Winter (2003); Gueber (2009); and Jones (1971) are still important; for Anatolia, see Mitchell (1993a); Sartre (2001, 355– 371); and Dally and Ratté (2011). Comprehensive studies of Roman colonies and colonists include Levick (1967); Demougin and Scheid (2012); Bru, Labarre, and Tirologos (2016); and Lo Cascio and Tacoma (2016). For rural settlements and communities, see Schuler (1998), and for regional patterns of urbanism and settlement, Willet (2019). The question of Romanization and the Hellenistic or local background is considered in Mitchell (1993a, esp. 80–117); Waelkens (2002); Berns et al. (2002); and Deppmeyer (2005). On the Roman/Italian villa as an economic, social and cultural phenomenon since the later first century ce, see Marzano and Métraux (2018). Political unification versus retention of cultural diversity is discussed in Elton and Reger (2007); bilingualism and use of Latin in Gatzke (2013); and ancient place names in Zgusta (1984). For the structures of the empire and provincial administration, see Eck (1995–1997, 2007); Jacques and Scheid (1998); Lo Cascio (2000); Maiuro (2012); Ferrary and Scheid (2015); Ferrary (2017); and for civic administration, still Liebenam (1900). The role and duties of provincial governors are described in Bérenger (2014); analyzes the administrative centers of the provinces. An overview of the changes under the tetrarchy is given by Barnes (1982) and Corcoran (2000). For the Roman monetary system in the eastern provinces, Katsari (2011), with Watson (2019) for southern Anatolia, while important aspects of the monetary economy are discussed by Bange (2014) and Verboven, Vandorpe, and Chankowski (2008). For the imperial cult, see Price (1984a, 1984b) and Cancik and Hitzl (2003). The background of civic ideology and communal self-representation is analyzed in Harl (1987) and Howgego, Heuchert, and Burnett (2005). Different structures of land ownership and agriculture in Asia Minor and the patterns of rural economy are discussed in Mitchell (1993a, 143–197); Sartre (2001, 371–380); Mitchell and Katsari (2006); Drexhage (2007); and Izdebski (2013). For fairs and markets, De Ligt (1993); wool and textiles, Droß-Krüpe (2014); Eastern Sigillata, Willet (2012 and 2018). General contributions on Roman agricultural economy, structures of ownership, labor, and exploitation of land and resources are examined in Bowman and Wilson (2013); Erdkamp (2009); and Erdkamp, Verboven, and Zuiderhoek (2015). For aspects of law, see Kehoe



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(1997, 2007), and for the Roman economy generally, see Lo Cascio and Mantovani (2018) and the seminal contribution of Lo Cascio (2017). Basic contributions on Roman economic history are in Drexhage, Konen, and Ruffing (2002); Lo Cascio (2009); Harris (2011); Scheidel (2012); Erdkamp and Verboven (2015); Verboven and Laes (2016); Erdkamp, Verboven, and Zuiderhoek (2020); Lo Cascio (2006); and Droß-Krüpe, Föllinger, and Ruffing (2016). On quantifying economic analysis, see Bowman and Wilson (2009); De Callataÿ (2014); and on economic development into late antiquity, Lavan (2013).

Biographical Note Univ.-Prof. Mag. Dr. Karl Strobel studied ancient history, classical philology, archaeology, Roman provincial archaeology, Egyptology and Altorientalistik in Munich. He attained his doctoral Degree in Munich and his habilitation in Heidelberg. He was associate professor in Heidelberg, research full professor in Würzburg and full professor in Trier. He has been a member of the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton, and since 1999 has been chair of ancient history and archaeology at the University of Klagenfurt, Austria.

Abbreviations AE = L’Année Épigraphique. 1888–. Edited by René Cagnat et al. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. I Ankara = The Greek and Latin Inscriptions of Ankara (Ankyra), Vols. 1 and 2. 2012-2019. Edited by Stephen Mitchell and David French. Munich: C. H. Beck. IGSK Perge = Die Inschriften von Perge. 1999–. Edited by Sencer Sahin. Inschriften griechischer Städte aus Kleinasien 54 and 61. Bonn: R. Habelt. IGSK Sagalassos = Die Inschriften von Sagalassos Vol. 1. 2018. Edited by Armin Eich, Peter Eich, and Werner Eck. Inschriften griechischer Städte aus Kleinasien 70. Bonn: R. Habelt. ILS = Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae. 1954–1955. Edited by Hermann Dessau. Berlin: Weidmann. RPC = Roman Provincial Coinage. 1992– . Ed. Andrew M. Burnett, Michel Amandry, and Pere Pau Ripollès. London and Paris: British Museum Press, Bibliothèque Nationale de France. MAMA = Monumenta Asiae Minoris Antiqua. 1928-. Edited by W. M. Calder et al. London: Longmans, Green & Co. ltd. TAM = Tituli Asiae Minoris. 1901–. Edited by Ernest Kalinka et al. Vienna: Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften. SEG = Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum. 1923–. Edited by J. J. E. Hondius et al. Leiden: Brill.

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Strobel, Karl. 2003–2007. “Ist das phrygische Kultzentrum der Matar mit dem hellenistischen und römischen Pessinus identisch? Zur Geographie des Tempelstaates von Pessinus.” Orbis Terrarum, 9: 207–228. Strobel, Karl. 2004. “Germa, Germokoloneia.” In Brill’s New Pauly, vol. 4, edited by Helmuth Schneider and Hubert Cancik, 1008. Leiden: Brill. Strobel, Karl. 2007a. “Die Galater und Galatien: Historische Identität und ethnische Tradition im Imperium Romanum.” Klio, 89: 356–402. Strobel, Karl. 2007b. “Beiträge zur historischen Geographie Zentralanatoliens”. In Historische Geographie der Alten Welt. Grundlagen, Erträge, Perspektiven. Festgabe für Eckart Olshausen, edited by Ulrich Fellmeth, Peter Guyot, and Holger Sonnabend, 369–379. Zürich: Georg Olms. Strobel, Karl. 2009. “Städtebau und Kunstschaffen im römischen und byzantinischen Tavium.” In Les ateliers de sculpture régionaux: techniques, styles et iconographie. Actes du Xe colloque international sur l’art provincial romain, Aix-en-Provence et Arles 2007, edited by Vassiliki Gaggadis-Robin, Antoine Hermary, Michel Reddé, and Claude Sintès, 369–379. Aix-en-Provence: Centre Camille Jullian and Musée départemental Arles antique. Strobel, Karl. 2010. “The Pergamene kingdom of the Attalids (241 to c. 185 BC).” In Historical Atlas of the Ancient World, edited by Anne-Maria Wittke, Eckart Olshausen, and Richard Szydlak, Brill’s New Pauly Supplement I.3. Leiden: Brill. DOI:10.1163/2214-8647_bnps3_BNPA124. Strobel, Karl, and Christoph Gerber. 2000. “Tavium (Büyüknefes, Provinz Yozgat) – Ein regionales Zentrum Anatoliens. Bericht über den Stand der Forschungen nach den ersten drei Kampagnen (1997–1999).” Istanbuler Mitteilungen, 50: 215–265. Strobel, Karl, and Christoph Gerber. 2003. “Tavium (Büyüknefes, Provinz Yozgat) – Bericht über die Kampagnen 2000–2002.” Istanbuler Mitteilungen, 53: 131–195. Strobel, Karl, and Christoph Gerber. 2007. “Tavium (Büyüknefes, Provinz Yozgat) – Bericht über die Kampagnen 2003–2005.” Istanbuler Mitteilungen, 57: 547–621. Strobel, Karl, and Christoph Gerber. 2010. “Tavium (Büyüknefes, Yozgat Province) and its region: A report on the campaigns of 2006–2009.” Istanbuler Mitteilungen, 60: 291–338. Stroobants, Fran. 2014. “The Production of Civic Coins in Third-century Pisidia and Pamphylia: Mapping Regional Trends and Urban Deviations.” In First International Congress of the Anatolian Monetary History and Numismatics. Proceedings, edited by Ogüz Tekin, Kayhan Dörtlük, and Remziye Boyraz Seyhan, 541–558. Antalya: AKMED. Strubbe, Johan. 2005. The Inscriptions of Pessinous. Inschriften griechischer Städte aus Kleinasien 66. Bonn: Habelt. Takmer, Burak. 2007. “Lex Portorii Provinciae Lyciae. Ein Vorbericht über die Zollinschrift aus Andriake aus neronischer Zeit.” Gephyra, 4: 165–188. Talloen, Peter. 2015. Cults in Pisidia. Religious Practice in Southwest Asia Minor from Alexander the Great to the Rise of Christianity. Studies in Eastern Mediterranean Archaeology 10. Turnhout: Brepols. Talloen, Peter, and Marc Waelkens. 2004. “Apollon and the Emperors (I).” Ancient Society, 34: 171–216. Talloen, Peter, and Marc Waelkens. 2005. “Apollon and the Emperors (II).” Ancient Society, 35: 217–249. Thonemann, Peter. 2013. Monumenta Asiae Minoris Antiqua XI. Monuments from Phrygia and Lykaonia Recorded by M.H. Balance, W.M. Calder, A.S. Hall, and R.D. Barnett. London: The Society for the Promotion of Roman Studies. Tsetskhadze, Gocha R. 2013. “Pessinus in Central Anatolia: New Investigations.” In L’Anatolie des peuples, des cités et des cultures: IIe millénaire av. J.-C.-Ve siècle ap. J.-C., edited by Hadrien Bru and Guy Labarre, Vol. II, 41–80. Besançon: Presses universitaires de Franche-Comté. Umurtak, Güslün. 2003. “A Short Report on a Group of Prehistoric Pottery.” In Die Akropolis von Perge I, edited by Haluk Abbasoğlu and Wolfram Martini, 81–85. Mainz: Von Zabern. Urso, Gianpaolo. 2007. Tra Oriente e Occidente. Indigeni, Greci e Romani in Asia Minore. Pisa: ETS. Van der Enden, Mark, Jeroen Poblome, and Philipp Bes. 2014. “From Hellenistic to Roman Imperial in Pisidian Table Ware: The Genesis of Sagalassos Red Slip Ware.” In Late Hellenistic to Mediaeval Fine Wares of the Aegean Coast of Anatolia. Their Production, Imitation and Use, edited by Henryk Meyza, 81–93. Warsaw: Editions Neriton.

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CHAPTER 23

Cappadocia Guido Rosada, Maria Teresa Lachin, and Jacopo Turchetto

Introduction and Geography1 In order to understand Cappadocia, one must first understand the geographical position of the region as an area of osmosis between eastern and western Anatolia, which fostered settlement since ancient times. Set at the center of the Anatolian peninsula (from ancient Greek anatolē/anatellein, i.e., “the land of the rising sun”), Cappadocia perhaps meant “Lower Lands,” as attested in Hittite documents starting from the reign of Mursili II, in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries bce (Mora 2010, 14–17). Nevertheless, Herodotus (7.72) wrote that the name “Cappadocians” was given to the Syrioi by the Persians. This mention of Syrioi is interesting for two reasons: first, because, as discussed in this chapter, materials from excavations in southern Cappadocia show strong cultural contact with Middle Eastern regions, and second, because of the good relations that Cappadocia later forged with the Seleucid realm of Syria in the first half of the third century bce. Finally, the relationship between the Persians and Cappadocia is supported by an inscription listing the territories that ought to pay tribute to Darius I (sixth to fifth centuries bce): among these is Katpatuka, probably meaning “Land of the beautiful horses.” And we know how Cappadocian horses were famous in the Middle East and beyond (Mora 2010). Cappadocia (Figure 23.1) is characterized by a continental climate and dominated by Mt. Argaios (modern Erciyes Dağı), the 4,000 m high volcano that has scattered its lava and ashes over most of the territory. Strabo (Geography 2.1.15, 12.1–4) divided Cappadocia into a northern part facing the Euxine, i.e., the Black Sea, and a southern part facing the mountain range of the Taurus, also called Greater Cappadocia. Arrian (Voyage Around the Pontus Euxinus 21–22), who governed Cappadocia under the emperor Hadrian, distinguished between Cappadocia on this side of the Halys (modern Kızılırmak) River and Cappadocia on the other side of the Halys. Basically, Cappadocia extended from the middle course of the Kızılırmak on the north (with Galatia and Pontus beyond it) and the modern Çakıt Suyu Valley leading to the Cilician Gates,

1

  The majority of this chapter was written by Guido Rosada and Maria Teresa Lachin. A second footnote introduces the section written by the third author.

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 2, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



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Figure 23.1  Map of the ancient road network of Cappadocia, by Jacopo Turchetto.

and from there to the Taurus pass and descent toward the Mediterranean Sea on the south. Cappadocia’s eastern and northeastern borders are difficult to define, as they have been more subject to change over the course of centuries. It is certain, however, that Cappadocia included the region of Melid/Melitēnē, present-day Malatya. The province included such cities as Garsaura (modern Aksaray, from its name in the reign of Claudius, Colonia Archelais), in the strategia Garsauritis, southeast of lake Tatta (modern Tuz Gölü or Salt Lake), as well as Nevşehir, Mazaka (later known as Caesarea, modern Kayseri), Niğde (ancient Nahita), Tyana (modern Kemerhisar) in Tyanitis, and on its west,

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the spacious plain of Iconium (modern Konya), which at one time was arid Lykaonia (Pliny the Elder, Natural History 6.23–24; Claudius Ptolemaeus, Geography 5.6.1–18). There are some innate contradictions in Cappadocia’s landscape: though it may appear uneven and sometimes barren, it often reveals itself as fertile, productive, and, in certain areas, even rich in water just underneath the ground surface – for example, in the regions of Tyana and Mazaka/Caesarea. In the central area of Cappadocia, to the north of the Melendiz Dağları and within Aksaray, Nevşehir, and Niğde, Mt. Argaios’s very ancient tufaceous deposits, easy to dig, allowed people to create architecture by simply removing material instead of adding it. The practice seems to have had ancient roots. According to Xenophon (Anabasis 4.5.25–27), Armenian villages had underground rooms and/or areas destined for stables and food stores, while Strabo (Geography 12.6.1) stated that in Cappadocia there were very deep wells (bathytata phreata) in places where the water was sold; a Cappadocian city is even called Phreata by Claudius Ptolemaeus (Geography 5.6.14). Latin sources like Varro (On Agriculture 1.57. 2) and Pliny (Natural History 18.306) mention Cappadocian granaries located underground. As shown by sites in Göreme, Zelve, and the vicinity, the tradition of rock-cut and underground architecture matched well with monasticism, on the rise from the fourth and fifth to the tenth and eleventh centuries ce, which manifested itself in extended cave settlements and magnificent frescoed churches. Indeed, real underground villages were organized, in particular at Kaymaklı, ancient Malakopea or Derinkuyu, on the road between Nevşehir and Niğde. These were organized on many levels in depth, connected by tunnels and stairwells, and each was equipped with compartments for various functions, such as bedrooms, kitchen, food warehouse, water storage, and stables. Such villages could accommodate thousands of people and provided not just cool summer residences and warm, relatively comfortable houses in winter, but defensive shelters, particularly at the time of the first Arab incursions between the seventh and eighth centuries ce. As well as the features already mentioned, the most evident topographical aspects of Cappadocia are the volcanic massifs: Mt. Argaios, but also Hasan Dağı (ca. 3300 m) near Aksaray, and, immediately north of the Melendiz Dağları (ca. 2960  m), Göllü Dağı (ca. 2200 m); the latter and Hasan Dağı were rich in obsidian. Farther north, in the regions of Göreme and Zelve, some minor geologic strata of volcanic ash, especially from Mt. Argaios, appear to have been deeply eroded and then excavated for cave churches. These mountains rise on a large plateau of about 1000–1100 m above sea level. Here, the plain that surrounds the complex of Hasan Dağı and Melendiz Dağları, i.e., from Aksaray to Kayseri and then south to the Araplı pass, forms a low crescent of wetlands. South of the pass of Araplı, which divides the catch basin of this area of Cappadocia into two distinct parts, the plain goes on to Niğde and up to the alluvial plain of Ereğli-Bor. The latter is defined to the north by a fault slope that creates a noticeable difference in height (ca. 100 m) and a large basin, once partially lacustrine and now rich in subterranean water, allowing extensive cultivation of vegetable gardens or orchards. This sequence of plains has been a natural north– south or east–west passage since ancient times. The southern belt of the province (perhaps the real “lower land”) can be reached from Niğde by passing over the Çaykavak (ca. 1600 m elevation) and is innervated by the route leading from Konya through the broad valley of the Çakıt Suyu toward the Cilician Gates (Gülek Bogazi, literally “the gorge of Cilicia” in Turkish) and through the Taurus Mountains to Cilicia and the sea (Andolfato and Zucchi 1971; Sözen 1998). In the central sector of Cappadocia (as mentioned, Strabo’s “Greater Cappadocia” facing the Taurus Mountains), artifacts of the Chalcolithic era found at the Fraktin Hittite rock relief south of Kayseri, and some of Late Chalcolithic from Gelveri (southeast of Aksaray and not far from Güzelyurt, the ancient Karbale), testify to very early cultural exchange with the Mesopotamian world and northern Syria, as far as southeastern Europe and the Balkans. That



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is a sign, once again, of Cappadocia’s role of liaison and passage between far separate worlds (De Pascale 2012). Cappadocia’s perennial role as a middle land communicating between Mesopotamia and Anatolia is also shown by the persistence of settlements across time in the same areas. For example, the Bronze Age site of Kültepe, ancient Kanesh, flourished from the fourth millennium bce on a fertile plain just over 20 km northeast of modern Kayseri (which itself was ancient Mazaka and then Roman Caesarea). This walled site featured a big palace complex with wide courtyards paved with stone, long corridors, and large rooms for those who ruled and for administrative officials linked to the realm of Kanesh. Not far from Kültepe a great karum (Assyrian market center) was founded in the early second millennium bce, communicating by road with Assyria (Akurgal 2007, 318–322; Kulakoğlu 2011; Michel 2011). These sites’ enduring value was conveyed by connecting roads that increasingly became stable lines between Mesopotamia and Anatolia; their descendant was the King’s Road built by Darius I of Persia between Susa and Sardis. When describing the King’s Road, Herodotus (5.52.1–54.2) wrote that “once out of Phrygia the river Halys is found, on its banks there are gates that need to be passed in order to cross the river.” For Herodotus, the Halys had an entirely different course from the actual geographical one; he identified the river as a border between two worlds and two cultures, in purely ideological terms. Thus, the course of the Halys, and consequently Cappadocia itself (which the river crossed from south to north), is defined once more as a border- and middle-land (Turchetto 2018). A large part of the region defined by the great curve of the Halys/Kızılırmak and later to be known as Cappadocia began to be called “Tabal” after the fall of the Hittite Empire, at the start of the twelfth century bce; it extended west from Nevşehir and Niğde east to Gürün. At the south were the kingdoms of Tuwanuwa, near Niğde (its capital Tuwana or Tuwanuwa), Kybistra (today’s Ereğli), and Melid (Melitēnē, now Malatya) to the east. Firsthand accounts of this region start to be more common in Assyrian documents of the eighth century bce, related to ties between the Assyrian Empire and Tabal, which had silver mines in the Taurus Mountains (Bolkar Dağları). In these documents, Warpalawa is among the kings of Tabal, and his capital city, Tuwana or Tuwanuwa, is now recognized by most scholars as later Tyana, the current village of Kemerhisar. Its territory, named Tyanitis in classical times, perhaps coincided with the modern district of Niğde (ancient Nahita), a strategic area controlling the Cilician Gates, the most important pass from the Anatolian plateau through the Taurus Mountains to the Mediterranean (Sözen 1998; Mora 2010).

Hellenistic Background and Alliance with Rome The heartlands of Anatolia, including Cappadocia, were crossed by the armies that Alexander the Great led against the Persians, and suffered the consequences before and after his death. Among its governors were Ariarathes I, who proclaimed himself satrap of an independent Cappadocia in about 332 bce. After Seleucus Nicator defeated Lysimachus in 281 bce, his part of the region became “Seleucid Cappadocia,” as distinguished from Pontic Cappadocia, which became the kingdom of Pontus. Some scholars believe that the first true king of Cappadocia was Ariarathes III: none of the coins of his predecessors featured the word king, while all those minted by Ariarathes III did have that title. If those coins date to 255 bce, one may place the birth of the kingdom of Cappadocia in the mid-third century bce. His successor Ariarathes IV Eusebes married the daughter of Antiochus III, cementing the alliance between the Seleucids and Cappadocia. But after Antiochus’ defeat in the battle of Magnesia in 190 bce, Cappadocia switched sides

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for the Romans and their ally, Eumenes II of Pergamon. This was not enough to avoid some Roman retaliation for the previous Seleucid alliance: the consul Cn. Manlius Vulso demanded six hundred talents from Cappadocia, and many post-Magnesia coins of Ariarathes IV have been found in archaeological contexts, probably from the large number minted to pay the debt. Thanks to a new dynastic marriage, however, that penalty was later halved: Eumenes II interceded for Ariarathes IV, and married his daughter Stratonike. From this point, dynastic marriages looked toward Pergamon rather than the Seleucids: after the death of her husband Eumenes II, Stratonike married his brother Attalus II. Her brother succeeded his father as Ariarathes V Eusebes; educated in Greek culture, he presided over a peaceful and prosperous period in the region, and tried to bring aspects of Greek culture to Mazaka and Cappadocia in general, though apparently without great success, as it was often said that the Cappadocians spoke terrible Greek (Palatine Anthology 11.436; Philostratus, Life of Apollonius 1.7). During his reign, both major cities of Cappadocia took his eponym: Mazaka as “Eusebeia by Mount Argaios,” Tyana as “Eusebeia by the Taurus” (this pair of cities was destined to become the two diocese capitals of Cappadocia in the fourth century ce). According to Strabo (Geography 13.2.8), under Ariarathes V Eusebes a dam was built where the river Melas (Karasu) flows into the Halys (Kızılırmak), about forty stades from Mazaka; when the dam broke and northern Cappadocia and even Galatia were flooded, the king refunded three hundred talents to the population. The king continued as an ally of Rome when the kingdom of Pergamon was willed to the Romans and during Aristonicus’s revolt, so that after the king’s death in 130 bce, Cappadocia was rewarded with the territories of Lykaonia and Cilicia, previously under Pergamon’s rule; but there is no concrete evidence for this territorial expansion (Sözen 1998). After a subsequent period of Pontic domination, Bithynian incursions, and Cappadocian unrest, Rome intervened, ended the Ariarathid dynasty, and chose Ariobarzanes I, named, not surprisingly, Philoromaios, as king of Cappadocia in 96 bce (Diodorus Siculus 31.19–22; Panichi 2018). There was substantial opposition, however, and Ariobarzanes I had a hard time keeping the throne despite Roman support from Sulla, Lucullus, and then Pompey, with intermittent depositions and restorations for almost three decades. Finally, in 63 bce, after Cappadocia had taken Kybistra (Ereğli) in Lykaonia and thus control of the road to the Cilician Gates, Ariobarzanes I, in the presence of Pompey himself, abdicated in favor of his son (Valerius Maximus 5.7.2). Ariobarzanes II Philopator, however, also had a troubled reign, and was killed in 51 bce. He was succeeded by his son Ariobarzanes III Eusebes Philoromaios, who managed to overcome political intrigues thanks to the help of Cicero, who had recently become governor of Cilicia. Despite his overt support, however, Cicero referred to Ariobarzanes III as weak and unreliable in a letter to Atticus (6.1.3–4). In the civil war between Pompey and Caesar, Ariobarzanes III took Pompey’s side, but after his defeat, Caesar forgave the king and incorporated Armenia Minor into Cappadocia, moving its borders eastward. Ariobarzanes III also aided Caesar in the war against Pharnaces II of Pontus, but in 42 bce he was killed by order of Cassius, one of the conspirators who had assassinated Caesar. Under the second triumvirate, Mark Antony supported Ariobarzanes’ brother, Ariarathes X Eusebes Philadelphos, as sucessor, but then had him executed in 36 bce in favor of one Sisines from Komana, who had no connection with the family of Ariobarzanes and adopted the name Archelaos. Despite Archelaos taking the side of Antony at Actium, Augustus not only took no action against him but in 20 bce allowed Cappadocia to keep Armenia Minor and added Cilicia, enlarging the kingdom to the east and south. It was in Cilicia, near the island of Elaiussa, that the king spent much of his time, and founded the city Elaiussa, according himself the title of founder (ktist ēs) and adding “Sebaste” to the city’s name in gratitude to Augustus (Strabo, Geography 12.2.7). Archelaos also founded a city carrying his own name, Archelais (modern Aksaray) near Lake Tatta, which became a Roman colony under Claudius.



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After a fifty-year reign, and despite his titles of Philopatris and Ktistes, Archelaos was summoned to Rome by Augustus’ successor Tiberius, and died there. Shortly after his death, Tiberius’ nephew and adopted son Germanicus defeated the king of Armenia and made Cappadocia a province in 17 ce (Suetonius, Caligula 1; Strabo, Geography 12.1.4). According to Tacitus (Annals 2.56.4), soon afterward, Tiberius lowered the region’s contributions to Rome in order to demonstrate some kind of beneficence from the princeps.

The Roman Province and Later At a time when Armenia and Mesopotamia were not yet Roman, the location of the new province again made it a borderland whose military and political control was of great strategic importance as the eastern bulwark of the Roman Empire (Sözen 1998; Cassia 2004). According to Strabo’s extensive description (Geography 12.1–2), Cappadocia – an agricultural and thus culturally conservative region – was divided into ten strategiai, each governed by a strategos (procurator) of equestrian order, or imperial legati of praetorian or consular rank (the first being Quintus Veranius). The first five strategiai, Melitēnē, Kataonia, Kilikia, Tyanitis, and Garsauritis, corresponded to the five towns that overlooked the Taurus mountains, while the rest were Laouiansēnē, Sargarausēnē, Saraouēnē, Chamanēnē, and Morimēnē. An eleventh strategia included Kybistra in Lykaonia. With time, however, urban centers with civic autonomy became increasingly important, and ended up absorbing most of the territories of the strategiai. According to Strabo (Geography 12.2.7), the major Cappadocian cities were Tyana in Tyanitis and Mazaka, later called Caesarea, in Kilikia. The latter was located in a much less well-watered area than Tyana’s, which would be a problem throughout the city’s history (see below). As mentioned, Archelais became a Roman colony under Claudius, and later Marcus Aurelius founded Colonia Faustinopolis in Halala, where his wife, Faustina, had died. The province’s coins were minted in Kybistra, Tyana, and Caesarea, which also minted silver as a state mint for the eastern provinces (see Burrell, “Coinage,” chapter 4); the most common image on its coin reverses, from Tiberius to Trebonianus Gallus, was its local Mount Argaios. Cappadocia’s strategic importance was again attested when Vespasian “added legions in Cappadocia to face the continuous raids of the barbarians and appointed a consular legate instead of an equestrian” (Suetonius, Vespasian 8). The two legions in question were Legio XII Fulminata at Melitene (Malatya) and Legio XVI Flavia Firma (formed in Syria) at Satala (Armenia Minor). Soon after, Vespasian joined Cappadocia to Galatia as a double province, and later his son Titus increased activity on building the road network (which continued over the following years) and added Armenia Minor to the two provinces. A funerary inscription of the third century ce from Özkanak, now in the museum of Nevşehir, says: “My homeland was Armenia, but I grew up in the land of the Cappadocians. I, Euphrates the eunuch, was loved by all men. Rejoice in this, you who pass” (Drew-Bear 1987, 46–47). The first governor of the compound province was Gnaeus Pompeius Collega, who was also patron of the colony of Antioch in Pisidia. This union of provinces was not stable, however, and various separations and recompositions occurred over time. Still, during the emperor Trajan’s reign (98–117 ce), Cappadocia continued to function as a buffer region between the Roman world and the threat of Parthia, and even more so when Hadrian rolled the eastern border back to the Euphrates. Cappadocia again took on a crucial strategic and logistic role between the end of the second and mid-third century, with Caesarea and Tyana as important military areas: first in 193–194 ce, during Septimius Severus’ war against Pescennius Niger, the governor of Syria who had made the legions acclaim him as emperor; then due to the repeated Persian campaigns under Alexander Severus, Gordian III, and other third century emperors; and

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especially in 260 ce, when the emperor Valerian I was captured at Edessa (modern Urfa) by the Persians. Between the later third century and the beginning of the fourth, the region was also attacked by Goths and the Palmyrene Empire, and under Diocletian Cappadocia was divided into two sectors: the larger, western one retained the name of Cappadocia, while the smaller eastern part, including the cities of Komana and Melitene, was merged with Armenia Minor. In 371 ce, Valens further subdivided the aforementioned region of Cappadocia into Cappadocia Prima and Cappadocia Secunda, with their capital cities Caesarea and Tyana, respectively. The fourth century was a period of prosperity, when Cappadocia produced three bishops and Fathers of the Church, Gregory of Nazianzos, Gregory of Nyssa, and Basil of Caesarea. Their proselytizing was made possible because their homeland, despite its winter snow, was a nodal area of the Anatolian peninsula. But from the fifth century on, the Byzantine emperors had to build a line of fortifications along their eastern border in Cappadocia (including Caesarea), to protect their empire against the Persians, and later, the Arabs.

Roads and Routes We have already described Cappadocia as a middle-land, due to its position between different worlds. But it was also, by that same nature, an area of meetings and clashes, crossed by roads – or rather by routes – along which those meetings and those clashes could take place. In discussing the karum of Kanesh above, we noted its position on a road system from Assyria that headed toward western markets: the roads must have crossed the present-day cities of Diyarbakır, Malatya (Frangipane 2015), Kayseri, or, farthest south, Urfa, Adana, and the pass of the Cilician Gates. In our view, this southern link seems most important because, if this road was already a significant alternative path to the heart of Cappadocia at the time of the karum, it would also be likely that Tyana, perhaps identical with the earlier Tuwanuwa, would have been a landmark on this route from the east. Far later, the geographic position of the diocese of Cappadocia Secunda seemed to be a point of considerable importance for trade and economy, perhaps parallel to the far earlier karum of Kanesh. This persistence of routes through the ages leads us to consider the road network of the Cappadocian region (Figure 23.1). We have already mentioned the King’s Road, which, at least for a stretch, followed a much older “middle route” from the east that arrived in Cappadocia through Malatya and then through Kayseri. As already mentioned, much has been written about the Cappadocian section of this route due to Herodotus’ interpretation of the course of the Halys. Moreover, the road between Caesarea (Kayseri) and Melitene (Malatya) is documented by the Itinerarium Antonini (210.5–211.4), a record of the most important routes of the Roman world probably dating to the fourth century ce, giving the overall distance between the two as 228 Roman miles, or about 340 km. Strabo (Geography 14.2.29) and Pliny (Natural History 2.244) inform us that there was a route from the Euphrates through Cappadocia via Mazaka and Garsaura (Aksaray) that traveled through Lykaonia, Phrygia, and Caria to Ephesus. This corresponds to an important directional band that Strabo himself calls koin ē tis odos (“a common road,” used by a large pool of travelers) and that still persisted with the Seljuk and Ottoman caravanserais along the route linking Aksaray, Nevşehir, Avanos, and Kayseri. If this was the road that ran on the northern limits of Cappadocia and connected with the routes to and from Ancyra (Ankara), among others (Itinerarium Antonini 205.7–206.7), there was another very important east– west route at the south, connecting Iconium (Konya) to the Cilician Gates, through the vast Lykaonian plain and the wide valley of the Çakıt Suyu. That was the route that in prehistory had linked the Mesopotamian area (Göbekli Tepe) with central Anatolia (Çatal Höyük), that



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Alexander the Great had marched along to reach Issos (modern Iskenderun), and where, again at Issos, Septimius Severus defeated his competitor for empire, Pescennius Niger. And it was likely along this route, toward Zeyve Höyük (Porsuk, now being investigated by an archaeological mission of the University of Strasbourg: Beyer 2010, 2015), that we would locate the site of Halala, which became Colonia Faustinopolis after the death of Marcus Aurelius’ wife, Faustina, in 176 ce. This is far preferable to the eastern route, as it is unthinkable that the emperor had traveled along the Kırkgeçit Deresi (“river with forty passages,” not by chance), which was almost impracticable for a caravan (Turchetto 2018). There were several other significant pathways that both earlier and in Roman times completed a framework of communications that confirmed Cappadocia’s “middle” lands as a crossroads par excellence. The first came from Ancyra, passing through Colonia Archelais (Aksaray) and Andabalis (near Aktaş), and finally arrived at Tyana (Kemerhisar), as documented both by the Itinerarium Antonini (143.1–145.2) and the Itinerarium Burdigalense (575.4–578.1), a route map that describes the journey carried out by two or more pilgrims from Bordeaux in Gaul to Jerusalem in 333–334 ce. This major road cut diagonally across central Cappadocia, where in late antiquity and the early Middle Ages monasteries and rock-cut churches were established, especially in the areas around Göreme, the ancient Korama, and Zelve. The Tabula Peutingeriana (9.1–2), the medieval copy of an itinerarium pictum whose original is dated in the fourth to fifth centuries ce, registers yet another route from Archelais (Colonia Arcilaida) to Tyana, running almost parallel to the one just described, but south of Hasan Dağı and Melendiz Dağları. Sixteen miles from Tyana, the Tabula Peutingeriana indicates a stopping place at Tracias, which could be the modern Kınık Höyük, a few kilometers south of Altunhisar: there an Italian archaeological mission is investigating an ancient site, not far from which is a church, later transformed into a caravanserai in the Seljuk period, and a three-arched bridge. Another important road is variously indicated in the literary sources. Xenophon of Ephesus (3.1.1) noted that from Cilicia there was “a road that led to Mazaka, a great and beautiful town”; similarly, Aulus Hirtius (Alexandrian War 66.1–3) wrote that Caesar led his forces by forced march from Tarsus in Cilicia to Mazaka. Strabo (Geography 12.2.9) indicated that the road from Mazaka to the Cilician Gates was six days’ journey, with Tyana at the halfway mark. Another Augustan author, Vitruvius (On Architecture 8.3.9), noted the route between Mazaka and Tyana, and a large lake between the two cities. After leaving Tyana, the road went southward to connect with the route toward the Cilician Gates, which, as already mentioned, ran across the Çakıt Suyu valley (Itinerarium Antonini 145.2–4; Itinerarium Burdigalense 577.7–579.1). The ancient itineraria, i.e., the Antonini, Burdigalense, and the Tabula Peutingeriana, indicate numerous mutationes and mansiones (roadhouses and horse-change stations) in Cappadocia, underlining the fact that it was far from being a peripheral crossroads but a fundamental meeting point between East and West.

Natural Resources Despite negative statements by Cicero that Cappadocia was “empty” (Letters to Friends 15.1.6) or “deserted” (On the Agrarian Law 2.21.55–56), Strabo, who was born in neighboring Pontus, called it an “excellent region not only for fruit, but especially for wheat and for all kinds of livestock” (Geography 12.2.10). Cappadocian horse farms were famous for both quantity and quality, providing support to the army both in Hellenistic and Roman times (Plutarch, Eumenes 6.4, 12.3; Arrian, The Anabasis of Alexander 3.11.7; Caesar, Civil War 3.4.3; Solinus 46.5–7). Claudian (5.30–31, 18.245–248), in particular, said that the

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rich pastures that stretched along the slopes of Mount Argaios were convenient for the breeding of equines, while Gregory of Nazianzos (Historical Poems 2.2.7, 328–329; Oration 43.3.2; Palatine Anthology 8.100.4) called Cappadocia euippē, which means “of beautiful horses” or “famous for horses.” Of course, pastoralism and transhumance of goats and sheep had to be, as it is today, very widespread, since a part of the tribute due to the Persians, according to Strabo (Geography 11.13.8), consisted of 50,000 head. Also there were various productive and artisan activities in the region, of which we will specify only three: weaving and spinning (e.g., the Cappadocian tapetes named by the Edict on Maximum Prices of Diocletian 19.30–31), because they still continue in the tradition of carpets and kilims; the processing of glass; and breadmaking (for which we found archaeological confirmation in our excavations in Tyana).

Major Cities of the Roman Province In terms of the archaeological data that contribute most toward a full historical picture of Cappadocia as a province, the Roman period, unlike the pre/protohistoric and Byzantine periods, has produced little evidence. This may be due to a lack of focused modern research, but may also result from a low density of settlements in ancient times. For example, Strabo (Geography 12.2.7) may seem to have emphasized that only two Cappadocian strategiai had major cities: Tyanitis had Tyana, and Kilikia had Mazaka. Actually, however, Strabo did not use only the term polis for the various Cappadocian settlements, but also m ētropolis, polichnion (small city), phrourion (fortified citadel), polisma (small town), or hieron (sanctuary). Seeing that he came from Amasia in Pontus, close to Cappadocia, we may judge that he knew the region well enough to be precise in his nomenclature.

Mazaka/Caesarea Mazaka’s future as one of Cappadocia’s foremost urban centers was certainly favored by its topographical position at a crossroads for every direction: east toward Melitene, west toward Ancyra and Archelais, northward to the Pontus, and south toward Tyana and the Cilician Gates. As already mentioned, Mazaka, along with Tyana, was renamed for Ariarathes V Eusebes: so Strabo (Geography 12.2.7) called Mazaka “Eusebeia by Mount Argaios, the highest mountain of all, on top of which snow is never missing.” After the city was again renamed, this time for the emperor Augustus, Pliny (Natural History 6.8) wrote that “at the foot of Mount Argaios stands Mazaka that is now called Caesarea.” Both indicate the important role the mountain played in the identity of the city. Unfortunately, the archeological remains of Roman Caesarea are almost completely lacking. Strabo (Geography 12.2.7) wrote: [The city was built on] a site that was not suitable, being arid and without natural defences; moreover it was without walls due to the negligence of those who ruled there, or also perhaps so that the inhabitants, if sheltered by the walls, would be less ready to defend themselves… Also, all around the territory was unproductive and not arable, because it was sandy and full of stones, and exposed to volcanic eruptions.

This settlement in an ill-chosen and peculiar context nonetheless lasted for millennia, though it may have only been equipped with fortifications during the reign of Gordian III, if one can rely the evidence of civic coins (Berges and Nollé 2000, 310–311, n. 69). Standing stretches of Kayseri’s black basalt city walls are traditionally attributed to Justinian (first half



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of the sixth century), though these were certainly rebuilt in the Seljuk period as well as in more recent times. Procopius (Buildings 5.4.7–14), indeed, described Caesarea as “a big, honorable and densely populated city, but surrounded by too ample a wall to be able to defend it, because it contained a great extent of land”; Justinian saw to it that this ancient city wall was replaced by a more functional one. Procopius made Caesarea appear as an important Cappadocian center, while Solinus (45.4) said that “the Cappadocians consider Mazaka set at the feet of the Argaios as a mother of cities,” adequate to become capital of the diocese Cappadocia I during the course of the fourth century.

Tyana Strabo’s second important city, Tyana, benefited not only from its strategic location, close to the Cilician Gates passage from the Taurus mountains to the sea, but also from the features that Caesarea lacked: a flat and fertile plain, and adequate water sources. Tyana became “Eusebeia by the Taurus” from the second century bce, and is now named Kemerhisar, “Village of the arch,” referring to its arched aqueduct (Figure 23.2); before Atatürk it was known as Kilissehisar, or “Village of the church.” The prehistoric site of Köşk Höyük (Öztan 2010; De Pascale 2012, 176–178, 220–222), about 5 km northeast of Kemerhisar, is near the spring that was later to become the catchment reservoir of Tyana’s Severan aqueduct (see below). Current excavations by the University of Padova have highlighted the transformation of a roadhouse (mansio) into a Roman city, and then into an important center in late antiquity and the early Middle Ages. It was above all its location, controlling the Cilician Gates, which favored Tyana’s development over the centuries. Though literary tradition attributed the city’s enhancement to Julia Domna, the philosophically inclined wife of Septimius Severus (because it was the birthplace of the earlier scholar and philosopher Apollonius; Cremonesi 2005), it is more likely that it was the crucial battle at Issos (Iskenderun), which defeated the forces of Pescennius

Figure 23.2  The Roman aqueduct of Tyana. Photo by Guido Rosada.

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Niger and secured the eastern empire for Severus in 194, that convinced Rome that the southern sector of Cappadocia was strategically vital and needed a stable control structure. Roman buildings currently known at Tyana include the baths (Figure 23.3), located at the southern end of the city, and the aqueduct already mentioned (Figure 23.2) that reached the settlement from the east. These were not just utilitarian infrastructure, but burnished the civic image of Tyana at just the time that the city became a Roman colony, in 213 ce. Both these structures were commissioned by Caracalla, son of Septimius and Julia Domna, not just to provide important resources for the city, but to create two monuments of imperial propaganda. Tyana’s bath complex (Figure 23.3) was located at its southern border, at the lowest part of the site; its water supply came via canals which crossed the whole city. The bath building was almost square, ca. 40 × 42 m, with three tabernae on its west side, their upper floor overlooking what may have been the city’s main north–south street. The building was composed of five main rooms: the apodyterium and basilica thermarum on the longer side running east–west, and the frigidarium, tepidarium (both with entry to the basilica), and the caldarium (entered via the tepidarium), running north–south. There must have been a toilet in the northeastern corner, though that sector was totally destroyed by the building of modern houses. To supply water for these baths and for Tyana generally, a great catchment reservoir (about 22 × 62 m: Lachin and Rosada 2018; Figure 23.4) was built at the spring at the foot of Köşk Höyük. From it, water was carried on the aqueduct, first in an underground channel, then on robust rusticated arches, toward the city. The reservoir pool apparently had a portico, probably decorated with statues, on its long northern side, which would have suggested a magnificent nymphaeum for those who exited the city on the main road toward the Cilician Gates. According to literary sources such as Philostratus (Life of Apollonius 1.6) and Ammianus Marcellinus (23.6.19), near Tyana there was a sanctuary dedicated to Zeus as god of oaths (Horkios Asbamaios), which featured a very cold spring with miraculous powers: its water clung to the eyes and skin of any perjurors who bathed there, thus revealing their crime. There

Figure 23.3  The Roman baths of Tyana. Photo by Guido Rosada.



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Figure 23.4  The catchment reservoir at Köşk Höyük. Photo by Guido Rosada.

have been many hypotheses about the location of this sanctuary, none provable, yet the long history of the spring at Köşk, its continuity of use, and its monumentalization at the beginning of the third century could indicate the catchment reservoir as the site of this sanctuary. A far later sacred area was marked by the location of Tyana’s church of the metropolitan diocese (diocesan from 325 ce, metropolitan from 372) in the northern part of the city. The original church had an octagonal plan, with an ambulatory around the central space, a perfectly oriented polygonal apse, and a presbytery. Though elements of mosaic flooring and opus sectile decor are preserved, it was demolished down to the foundations, probably during the Arab raids of the eighth–ninth centuries, and later, perhaps in the tenth century, rebuilt on a basilical plan, with three aisles and a narthex (Rosada and Lachin 2010). Nearby, on a terrace contained by a wall built over the aqueduct pillars, a baptistery equipped with a narthex was built, with a rectangular hall accessed by steps at a lower level from which a polygonal apse protruded to the northeast (perhaps to better adapt to the topography). The baptistry’s opus sectile floor held a tetraconch baptismal font, while the narthex was originally floored with polychrome mosaic depicting scenes of paradeisos, and later covered with marble slabs. The building can be dated by fragments of an inscription quoting the names of two bishops of Tyana known from Acts of the Ecumenical Councils: Patrikios, who participated to the Councils of Ephesus (449 ce) and Chalcedon (451 ce), and Paulos, who attended the Councils of Constantinople and Jerusalem (536 ce). Between the baptistry and the church there was a cemetery of stone tombs oriented to the east; some graves contained glass or bronze bracelets, or earrings with beads. It is interesting that in this area furnaces for the production of glass and perhaps bracelets were installed at some time, confirming the tradition of Cappadocian glass making. Between the church and the northern walls that surrounded Tyana, near a postern gate, a new urban quarter tied to Christian worship developed, probably between the fifth and sixth centuries. From the north, at the foot of the hill and just inside the walls, a series of

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workshops opened up over plazas paved with rough-hewn limestone slabs, in at least two different levels connected by stairs. The workshops were characterized by an entrance and a counter, which in one case still had large containers (one of stone) for grain or liquid. One of the shops had an oven (probably for bread) built against its outer eastern wall, confirming the Cappadocians’ fame for baking. Related to this Christian complex are other aspects that bring us back to older myths about Tyana. At the time of Diocletian, a Christian physician of Tyana named Orestes was martyred and his body thrown into a river, but then a man “resplendent as the sun” took it and placed it on the mountain that is near Tyana (Patrologia Graeca 116, 119–128; Berges and Nollé 2000, 394–396). The name Orestes, attested in the local onomastics, recalls a myth mentioned by Arrian (Voyage Around the Pontus Euxinus 7): Orestes and Pylades, after being chased across Anatolia by Thoas, the King of Tauris, stopped where the king died, a place that was thereby called Toana/Tyana; Orestes and Pylades could also be seen as hypostases, respectively, of Apollo of the Oroi, i.e., the mountains, and Apollo of Pylai, i.e., the gates, as Apollo was the god who advised Orestes and Pylades to go to Tauris in order to appease the Furies. Another martyr from the vicinity of Tyana, Longinus, identified with the soldier who wounded Christ on the Cross, was said to be the first to bring the Christian message to Cappadocia (Patrologia Graeca 93.1545–1560, 115.31–44; Berges and Nollé 2000, 411–413). The name Longinus was also used by a bishop of Tyana between the fourth and fifth centuries, and found on a graffito near the baptistry. So the myths of these martyrs intertwined with those of the Greek foundation of the city, and may have influenced the name of the church and the martyr cult that took place inside it (Lachin and Rosada 2014; Rosada and Lachin 2015). A final indication of Christian Tyana’s, and Cappadocia’s, long-held position as middleland between West and East is also highlighted by a Eucharistic bread-stamp (SEG 60-1607) similar to those found in Antioch, though Tyana belonged to the patriarchate of Constantinople!

Smaller Cities and the Evanescence of Archaeological Data2 As has been repeatedly illustrated, Cappadocia has always been a terrain of passage and crossing, peripheral to the empire yet highly strategic. Yet archaeological remains, especially of the Roman period, appear particularly evanescent in the Cappadocian landscape. Though that province was traversed by many important routes connecting West and East, creating a wide “linking network,” very few major hubs developed that were of longue durée, and we can appreciate only small fragments of their history in Roman times. Though there must have been a series of secondary nodes, essential for an efficient communication system, these are still archaeologically invisible, due either to their perishable nature as minor sites, or to our lack of archaeological and topographic information in poorly explored areas. Thus, the state of Cappadocian urban archaeology, though represented by the major sites of Tyana and Caesarea, should also be addressed through lesser-known sites like Aksaray, Sobesos, and Zeyve Höyük.

Aksaray In spite of the relevance the Roman colony of Archelais (Colonia Arcilaida) assumed as a strategic hub within the framework of the Cappadocian connections with Lykaonia and Galatia (i.e., the western and northwestern sectors of central Anatolia), the archaeological data from 2

  The final section of this chapter was written by Jacopo Turchetto.



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this settlement are so scanty that they cannot even determine how the ancient town looked in the Roman period. A Latin inscription was discovered during the early 1970s in the town itself, mentioning the renovation of the temple of the colony at the expense of the priests. On the basis of the titulature of the emperor Hadrian (tribunicia potestas XIII), it has been dated between 10 December 128 ce and 9 December 129 ce (AE 1976 [1980], 675). A Roman milestone, found in front of the Kızılminare (or Eğriminare) Cami, in the quarter of Șamlı Mahalle, confirms the pivotal role this area played. It bears two different inscriptions: the first one, on the face of the column, mentions the distance (probably from the colony itself) of 10 Roman miles, and is dated to 293–305 ce by the names of Diocletian and Maximianus as Augusti with Constantius and Galerius as Caesars; the second dates to 317–324 ce, when Constantinus and Licinius (name erased) were Augusti with Crispus, Licinius (name erased) and Constantinus as Caesars (Cassia 2004, 115–118; French 2012, 265–266).

Sobesos The ancient settlement of Sobesos, south of the modern village of Şahinefendi, in the vicinity of a spring feeding the Damsa River, was discovered in the early 2000s (for what follows, see Gülyaz 2014). A three-roomed building of ca. 400 sq. m was unearthed, and one room’s floor (ca. 3.5 × 4.2 m) was completely covered with geometric mosaics. Their stylistic similarities to those of Syrian Apamea and the ancient Agora of Thessaloniki date the mosaics to the late Roman to early Christian period (ca. fourth–fifth century ce). The other two rooms were reused starting from the mid-sixth century ce, transformed into a small church (chapel) and cemetery. To the north of that building, the remains of a sector of Sobesos’s public bath complex were brought to light (Figure 23.5). They consist of the caldarium, with its hypocaust heating system, and the apodyterium, which was originally covered with a barrel-vaulted roof that

Figure 23.5  The Roman baths of Sobesos. Photo by Guido Rosada.

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later burned in a fire. Only a few portions of the mosaic floors of the apodyterium are still visible today, among them two panels of birds as well as the usual geometric motifs. The mosaic at the southern entrance of the complex shows two sandals, each facing in an opposite direction. These baths, dated to the late Roman age, were also renovated during the early Christian period.

Zeyve Höyük In southern Cappadocia, on a plateau of the Tapor Dağı separating the valleys of the Çakıt Suyu and the Kılan Deresi, is the site of Zeyve Höyük, plausibly identified with the Roman colony of Faustinopolis mentioned in the sources (see above). Its topographic position guaranteed an effective control of people and traffic moving along the longitudinal valley connecting the plain of Ereğli with the Cilician Gates pass through the Taurus Mountains, and justifies the enduring presence of a settlement in that location, from the Hittite period to the second to third centuries ce. The Roman presence at Zeyve Höyük was revealed by a long-running French expedition’s discovery of both residential and craft quarters in the eastern sector of the mound, with evidence for weaving and production of food and wine. According to the excavators, such a coexistence of domestic and artisanal activities fit well within the classic structure of a rural settlement (Kirner 2015, 152; Lebreton 2015; Beyer, Chalier, and Kirner 2016). Moreover, in the vicinity of the site and along the Via Tauri, three Roman milestones were found, thus confirming the importance of Zeyve Höyük within the ancient itinerary and communication system of Roman Cappadocia. The first, attributed to Elagabalus and dated to 218 ce, the first year of his reign, registers a distance of 36 Roman miles to P[ylis], therefore confirming the existence of a route from the Cilician Gates to Faustinopolis. The second, of uncertain date, records a route of 23 Roman miles that should have linked the Roman colony to Tyana. The third one, which dates from the time of Gordian III (perhaps 239 ce), bears no topographic indication, but it may have referred to the western route toward Cybistra, modern Ereğli (Turchetto 2018, 118–121).

Biographical Notes Guido Rosada, senior professor, former Professor of Archaeology of the Venetian Regions and Ancient Topography at the University of Padua, has directed archaeological excavations in Italy, Croatia (Istria) and Turkey (Cappadocia). He directed the journal Quaderni di Archeologia del Veneto and is now director of Agri Centuriati. An International Journal of Landscape Archeology. His research focuses mainly on territorial issues (agrarian organizations, road systems), urban structures, and ancient itineraries. Maria Teresa Lachin, PhD, specializes in archaeology and the history of Greek and Roman art. Her research deals with decorative, architectural, pictorial, and technical-iconographic aspects, especially of mosaics. In recent years she was Director of the archeological excavation at Tyana in Cappadocia, and has extended her research to proto-Byzantine and Christian archaeology, especially epigraphy, liturgical furnishings, and small objects. Her archaeological interests also lead her into the fields of education and cultural tourism. Jacopo Turchetto teaches Ancient Topography at the University of Padua, where he gained his PhD on the Graeco-Roman routes of Cappadocia. His research focuses on ancient road networks and landscape organization, merging traditional archeo-topographical and GISbased approaches.



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Abbreviations AE = L’Année Épigraphique. 1888–. Edited by René Cagnat et al. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. SEG = Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum. 1923–. Ed. J. J. E. Hondius et al. Leiden: Brill.

REFERENCES Akurgal, Ekrem. 2007. Ancient Civilizations and Ruins of Turkey, 10th ed. Istanbul: University Museum Publications. Andolfato, Umberto, and Franco Zucchi. 1971. “The Physical Setting.” In Arts of Cappadocia, edited by Luciano Giovannini, 51–61. London: Barrie & Jenkins. Berges, Dietrich, and Johannes Nollé. 2000. Tyana. Archäologisch-historische Untersuchungen zum südwestlichen Kappadokien, 2 vols. Bonn: R. Habelt. Beyer, Dominique, Isabelle Chalier, and Françoise Kirner. 2016. “Rapport préliminaire sur les travaux de la mission archéologique de Zeyve höyük-Porsuk 2015.” Anatolia Antiqua, 24: 253–280. Beyer, Dominique. 2010. “From the Bronze Age to the Iron Age at Zeyve Höyük/Porsuk: A Temporary Review.” In Geo-archaeological Activities in Southern Cappadocia-Turkey, edited by Lorenzo D’Alfonso, Maria Elena Balza, and Clelia Mora, 97–109, Studia Mediterranea 22. Lugano: Italian University Press. Beyer, Dominique. 2015. “Quelques nouvelles données sur la chronologie des phases anciennes de Porsuk, du Bronze Moyen à la réoccupation du Fer.” In La Cappadoce méridionale de la préhistoire à la période byzantine. Actes du 3èmes Rencontres d’Archéologie de l’IFEA (Istanbul, 8–9 novembre 2012), edited by Dominique Beyer, Olivier Henry, and Aksel Tibet, 101–110. Istanbul: Institut français d’études anatoliennes Georges-Dumézil. Cassia, Margherita. 2004. Cappadocia romana. Strutture urbane e strutture agrarie alla periferia dell’Impero. Catania: Edizioni del Prisma. Cremonesi, Chiara. 2005. La Vita Pura. Apollonio di Tyana e la Sapienza. Padua: Sargon. De Pascale, Andrea. 2012. Anatolia. Le origini. Viaggio nella Turchia preistorica. Sestri Levante (Genova): Oltre Edizioni. Drew-Bear, Thomas. 1987. “Découvertes épigraphiques à Özkonak.” Dossiers d’histoire et d’archéologie, 121: 46–47. Frangipane, Marcella. 2015. “IV. Binyılda Malatya, Arslantepe’de tapınakların toplum üzerindeki sosyal ve ekonomik rolü / Ruolo sociale ed economico del templi nelle società del IV millennio ad Arslantepe, Malatya.” Arkeoloji ve Sanat/Journal of Archaeology & Art, 148: 11–26. French, David. 2012. Roman Roads and Milestones of Asia Minor, 3 vols. Milestones. Fasc. 3.3. Cappadocia. British Institute at Ankara Electronic Monograph 3. DOI: https://doi.org/10.18866/ BIAA/e-03, accessed Dec. 23 2023. Gülyaz, Murat E. 2014. “Sobesos Ancient City.” In L’officina dello sguardo. Scritti in onore di Maria Andaloro. I luoghi dell’arte. Immagine, memoria, materia, edited by Giulia Bordi, Iole Carlettini, Maria Luigia Fobelli, Maria Raffaella Menna, and Paola Pogliani, 619–622. Rome: Gangemi Editore. Kirner, Françoise. 2015. “Fonctions des espaces des niveaux hellénistiques et romains du site de Porsuk.” In La Cappadoce méridionale de la préhistoire à la période byzantine, Actes du 3èmes Rencontres d’Archéologie de l’IFEA (Istanbul, 8–9 novembre 2012), edited by Dominique Beyer, Olivier Henry, and Aksel Tibet, 145–158. Istanbul: Institut français d’études anatoliennes Georges-Dumézil. Kulakoğlu, Fikri. 2011. “Kültepe-Kaneš: A Second Millennium B.C.E. Trading Center on the Central Plateau.” In The Oxford Handbook of Ancient Anatolia 10,000–323 B.C.E., edited by Sharon R. Steadman and Gregory McMahon, 1012–1030. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

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Lachin, Maria Teresa, and Guido Rosada. 2014. “Kirie boethe ton doulon. I cristiani a Tyana in Cappadocia.” In L’officina dello sguardo. Scritti in onore di Maria Andaloro. I luoghi dell’arte. Immagine, memoria, materia, edited by Giulia Bordi, Iole Carlettini, Maria Luigia Fobelli, Maria Raffaella Menna, and Paola Pogliani, vol. 1, 643–648. Rome: Gangemi Editore. Lachin, Maria Teresa, and Guido Rosada. 2018. “Exhaurire aquam. Aqua capta vel monstrata à Tyana en Cappadoce.” In Aqua publica dans la ville romaine: droit, technique, structures. Journée d’études (Clermont-Ferrand, 9 novembre 2016), edited by Carlotta Franceschelli, Pier Luigi Dall’Aglio, and Laurent Lamoine, 53–71, Agri Centuriati supplement 13. Pisa: Fabrizio Serra. Lebreton, Stephane. 2015. “Zeyve-Porsuk: réflexion sur les fouilles des niveaux hellénistiques et romains à partir de la datation de la nécropole.” In La Cappadoce méridionale de la préhistoire à la période byzantine, Actes du 3èmes Rencontres d’Archéologie de l’IFEA (Istanbul, 8–9 novembre 2012), edited by Dominique Beyer, Olivier Henry, and Aksel Tibet, 159–169. Istanbul: Institut français d’études anatoliennes Georges-Dumézil. Michel, Cécile. 2011. “The Kārum period on the plateau.” In The Oxford Handbook of Ancient Anatolia 10,000–323 B.C.E., edited by Sharon R. Steadman and Gregory McMahon, 313–336. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Mora, Clelia. 2014. “La Cappadocia al tempo degli Ittiti.” In L’officina dello sguardo. Scritti in onore di Maria Andaloro. I luoghi dell’arte. Immagine, memoria, materia, 1, edited by Giulia Bordi, Iole Carlettini, Maria Luigia Fobelli, Maria Raffaella Menna, and Paola Pogliani, 605–609. Rome: Gangemi Editore. Öztan, Aliye. 2010. “Archaeological Investigations at Köşk.” In Geo-archaeological Activities in Southern Cappadocia-Turkey, edited by Lorenzo D’Alfonso, Maria Elena Balza, and Clelia Mora, 83–95, Studia Mediterranea 22. Lugano: Italian University Press. Panichi, Silvia. 2018. La Cappadocia ellenistica sotto gli Ariaratidi ca. 250–100 a. C. Florence: Leo S. Olschki. Rosada, Guido, and Maria Teresa Lachin. 2010. “…civitas Tyana inde fuit Apollonius magus… (ItBurdig, 577,7–558,1).” In Geo-archaeological Activities in Southern Cappadocia-Turkey, edited by Lorenzo D’Alfonso, Maria Elena Balza, and Clelia Mora, 111–127, Studia Mediterranea 22. Lugano: Italian University Press. Rosada, Guido, and Maria Teresa Lachin. 2015. “Significato e ruolo strategico-culturale di Tyana in Cappadocia tra mito. Antonini e Selgiudichi.” In La Cappadoce méridionale de la préhistoire à la période byzantine, Actes du 3èmes Rencontres d’Archéologie de l’IFEA (Istanbul, 8–9 novembre 2012), edited by Dominique Beyer, Olivier Henry, and Aksel Tibet, 201–213. Istanbul: Institut français d’études anatoliennes Georges-Dumézil. Sözen, Metin, ed. 1998. Cappadocia. Istanbul: Ayhan Sahenk. Turchetto, Jacopo. 2018. Per Cappadociae partem…iter feci. Graeco-Roman Routes between Taurus and Halys. Pisa: Fabrizio Serra Editore.

CHAPTER 24

Lycia Oliver Hülden

Historical Background and Geography After the battle of Apameia (188/187 bce), Lycia came under Rhodian dominion and, for the first time, under direct Roman influence (Figure 24.1). At this time, the Lycians created an extraordinary political system, the Lycian League, which should be understood as an act

Figure 24.1  Map of Lycia, adapted by John Wallrodt from map courtesy of the Lycia-Project, University of Tübingen. A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 2, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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of resistance against Rhodes. Soon after the establishment of the League, some poleis of the area called Kabalis, north of the Xanthos Valley and outside the Lycian heartland, joined as well, as did Phaselis and Olympos in the east. The Lycians had a good relationship with Rome, and after Sulla’s victory over Mithridates VI of Pontus, the Lycian League and Rome concluded a foedus (alliance, ostensibly on equal terms). A newly found bronze plaque records the text of the alliance, apparently renewed by Caesar on the 24th of July 46 bce, offering detailed insights into how relations between the contracting partners were regulated (Mitchell 2005). Not much later, Brutus forced the Lycians to support him militarily. His siege of Xanthos resulted in a collective suicide of the inhabitants, recalling an episode of some hundred years before, when the Persians conquered Lycia (Appian, Civil Wars 4.10.76–80, 5.1.7). The Triumvirs’ victory over the murderers of Caesar gave members of the Lycian elite access to circles of Roman high society. For example, Marcus Antonius Idagras from Patara, known from an honorary inscription recently found in his home town, served as a military commander in the Roman army and obtained Roman citizenship, which was granted relatively rarely at that time (Schuler and Zimmermann 2012). After Octavian’s triumph at the battle of Actium in 31 bce, Lycia moved further into the Roman sphere of dominion. Coins depicted the portrait of the princeps and statues of the Roman imperial family were distributed throughout the region. But Lycia’s true integration into the empire was not until the emperor Claudius established it as a province in 43 ce. Due to contradictions in historical sources, scholars had debated whether the province had been established under Vespasian, but it was likely that he was responsible only for its reorganization into the double province of Lycia et Pamphylia (Adak and Wilson 2012). Parts of southern Pisidia were probably also incorporated at that time. At first under imperial administration, the province possibly became senatorial in the second century ce; proconsuls certainly governed it, though with short interruptions, from the 160s ce, and from the mid-third century onward it had an equestrian praeses. Life was peaceful in Lycia under the Pax Romana; settlements and their hinterland flourished well into Christian times. There were some exceptions, however: predations by bandits in the mountainous Pisidian areas escalated into war in the third century ce (Probus’s siege of Kremna), and there were occasional earthquakes. Two of them were severe enough to cause great devastation in Lycia, the first at the end of the first century ce, and the other in 141/142 ce, but both led to large-scale reconstruction projects. This rather brief historical outline (see İplikçioğlu 2016 for more details) shows that the region here called “Lycia,” that is, the cultural heartland as delineated since the late Archaic period, experienced several geographic enlargements and connections with other regions (discussed elsewhere in this volume) from the establishment of the Lycian League through Roman imperial times. In addition, the dissolution of the tetrapolis of Kibyra, Oinoanda, Balboura, and Boubon, which bordered Lycia in the northwest, brought the last three cities into the province of Lycia, while Kibyra was incorporated into the province of Asia. Nonetheless, the heartland of Lycia was considered as a separate entity throughout Roman imperial times, as shown in the Claudian inventory of roads of Patara (Stadiasmos Patarensis).

Archaeological Research The mountainous center of Lycia can be regarded as one of the archaeologically best investigated areas of the ancient world. For decades, however, scholarly interest focused on pre-Hellenistic Lycia, which is considered to preserve the original and indigenous Lycian



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culture, though it was already influenced by the cultures of Greece, other Anatolian regions, and Persia. Research on the Hellenistic period and its changing political factors under the Ptolemies, Seleucids, Rhodians, and Attalids only started to intensify some years ago, as did study of the time of Roman domination over Lycia. From the eighteenth century, European explorers laid the foundation of our knowledge of the topography of Lycia, its larger settlements and extraordinary monuments, and especially its inscriptions in Lycian, Greek and, occasionally, Aramaic. Archaeological research in Lycia experienced its most crucial impetus, still active to this day, after the Second World War, when French archaeologists started excavations at Xanthos and shortly later at the Letoon under the directorship of H. Metzger and C. Le Roy. In the following years, teams of different nationalities began excavating at Limyra, Patara, Arykanda, Tlos, Myra, Andriake, Rhodiapolis, Olympos, and Phaselis. Due to a decline of urbanism at the end of the Byzantine period, the ancient sites in the mountainous area of Lycia are remarkably well preserved, and offered a rich terrain for archaeological surveys. Investigations by W. W. Wurster and M. Wörrle in the 1970s resulted in the publication of the first gazetteer of fifty Lycian settlements (Wurster 1976, 1980). Later, several teams of archaeologists and ancient historians surveyed parts of central Lycia extensively and intensively, including the territory of the polis Kyaneai (Kolb 2008) and the settlements of Phellos, Antiphellos, Tyberissos, and Timiussa (Hülden and Zimmermann forthcoming; Zimmermann 2003, 2005). A crucial aspect of this research was the relation and interaction between harbors and connected settlements in the mountainous hinterland. Smaller surveys took place within the territory of Istlada and on the Bonda Tepe in the western part of the hinterland of Limyra (e.g., Marksteiner 2004). Unfortunately, a large-scale German, French, and Turkish project to survey the Xanthos Valley in detail was stopped by the Turkish authorities, so offered only preliminary results (Zimmermann 2019). Thanks to the extraordinary find in 1993 at Patara of the Claudian inscription documenting public roads (Stadiasmos Patarensis), Turkish scholars surveyed large parts of Lycia, enlarging our knowledge of the ancient land transportation system (Şahin and Adak 2007). Most recently, in the north (i.e., parts of the Kabalis and the Milyas), the settlements of Kibyra, Oinoanda, Boubon, and Balboura, as well as their territories, were studied more or less intensively (Kokkinia 2008; Coulton 2012; Corsten and Hülden 2012).

Settlement Patterns, Urban Structures, and Population Around 100 bce the Lycian League included only twenty-three poleis. In the first century ce, Pliny the Elder (Natural History 5.28.100–102) reported that there were originally seventy towns, but they had decreased to only thirty-six in his time. During the reign of Antoninus Pius, thirty were listed as recipients of donations from the rich benefactor Opramoas of Rhodiapolis, but not all federal members were mentioned, so their total number may in fact have been around the thirty-six mentioned by Pliny. It seems that few or no new cities were founded in Lycia during the Roman period, and no veteran colonies like those in Pisidia. Instead, the pre-Hellenistic “old Lycian” settlements were furnished increasingly lavishly with public buildings linked to the institutions of the Greek polis, in a veritable building boom. This started shortly after the establishment of the province, but not in all Lycian settlements at the same time. For example, the provincial center Patara was already fully equipped with buildings under Claudius (Wörrle 2016, 418), while the bath building in the small country town of Kyaneai was built about a century later than those in other Lycian settlements (Kolb 2008, 276).

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In addition, each of the Lycian settlements had different terrain, preexisting structures, and finances to be considered. Many older buildings, particularly dwellings, continued to be used, and sometimes refurbished, in the Roman period. For example, the most generously developed Lycian settlement (except for Patara, the caput provinciae or provincial capital) was Tlos, situated on the eastern edge of the upper Xanthos Valley. Its previous settlement of dynastic times, limited to the acropolis and western area, was expanded to the east in the Roman imperial period, toward a flat area with a slight rise. In the plain, a large stadium with adjoining halls was constructed, and two bath buildings connected it to the agora on the south. On the eastern slope, overlooking the entire settlement, including the “old town” with its acropolis and the most prominent necropolis, a large theater was built. Such an expansion from the summit to the plain, or at least to the slopes, characterized many Lycian settlements, subject to the already-mentioned factors and to more-specific landscape conditions. Six Lycian poleis (Telmessos, Xanthos, Patara, Tlos, Myra, and Limyra) obtained the status of metropolis in the Roman imperial period, placing them above the other poleis, and it is not surprising that all these settlements had good topographical conditions and a high potential for further development. On the other hand, smaller settlements with less generous urban structures clustered in the highlands of Central Lycia. Thus far, it is impossible to reconstruct the pre-Roman appearance and layout of any Lycian settlement, particularly for the Hellenistic period (e.g., Cavalier 2020 for Xanthos; Seyer and Quatember 2020 for Limyra; Kolb 2017 for our limited knowledge of development in Augustan times). Consequently, it is difficult to describe how Roman influence may have altered urban structure, apart from the erection of the mainly public buildings still visible today (for some general trends, see Laufer 2020). In addition, little is known about the dwellings and residential quarters of Lycian settlements in the Roman imperial period. In the small town of Kyaneai in central Lycia, for example, of approximately 150 houses estimated to be in use during the Roman imperial period, only about 25 were actually built during that time, and their standing structures mostly reflect the last settlement phase of the later Byzantine period (Kolb 2008, 283–284). All of them had several rooms, some up to six on two floors, and follow obviously local traditions. In contrast, it seems that peristyle houses did not exist in Kyaneai, though elsewhere, as at Arykanda, they were occasionally built in Roman times, pointing to a kind of Lycian conservatism in housing there and elsewhere. There were attempts to preserve central monuments of the dynastic period within later phases of the settlements, for instance at Xanthos (Des Courtils 2004) and Phellos (Hülden and Zimmermann, forthcoming; Zimmermann 2005). This again points to conservatism and a desire to preserve the past and Lycian cultural identity, despite Lycia’s drastic Hellenization and later integration into the Roman Empire. The Stadiasmos Patarensis inscription shows a complicated internal political situation during the Claudian provincialization process, confirming the written sources (e.g., Cassius Dio 60.17.3) that mention unrest and deaths of Roman citizens, though it is unclear whether these were new citizens of Lycian background or Roman immigrants, traders, or travelers. Inscriptions of Limyra first mention a larger community of resident Romans, and it is even possible that Gaius Caesar died in their circle while in Limyra on his way back from the Parthian campaign in 4 ce (Wörrle 2016, 424). Romans were therefore already present before the establishment of the province, and might well have exerted considerable cultural influence in Lycia. In addition, Jewish and Christian communities existed in Lycia (Wilson 2018), whose coastal cities Patara and Myra were visited by the apostle Paul in 57 ce. Roman emperors and officials as well as rich Lycian citizens were active as builders and benefactors, transforming Lycian settlements by equipping them with public buildings and monuments during the first and second centuries ce. They also organized religious festivals and other public events, both promoting public welfare and increasing their own prestige. Inscriptions and statues linked with the buildings and monuments served and publicized this



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form of self-representation, while property and wealth was increasingly concentrated into the hands of a few elite families during the mid-imperial period. There were also benefactors whose support for building projects extended beyond their polis of origin, such as Opramoas, from Rhodiapolis in eastern Lycia: his benefactions covered almost the whole of Lycia, particularly after the earthquake of 141/142 ce. The archaeological surveys mentioned above have provided deeper insights into Lycia’s rural structures and agricultural system. They have also distinguished the boundaries of the territories attached to the various Lycian polities, using topographical landmarks and, more importantly, tomb inscriptions. Notably, the survey conducted by Frank Kolb (2008) in the territory of the small rural town of Kyaneai, in the highlands of Yavu, registered the surface finds of more than 80% of the investigation area, offering an impressive picture of life in the Lycian countryside in antiquity. For example, the population of the metropolis of Patara during the Roman imperial period, including its territory, or chora, is estimated at between 10,000 and 12,500 people, while that of Kyaneai, with its territory, is about half that, with room for only around 1000 inhabitants in the town center, and with the rest living in the countryside. Despite a lack of water springs, the region around Kyaneai shows an astonishingly dense pattern of settlement in comparison with other areas of the Mediterranean, indicating intensive land use. This exploitation started in pre-Hellenistic times and increased continuously over the following centuries, reaching its peak in the Roman imperial period and late antiquity. There were between four hundred and five hundred farmsteads in an area of about 130 sq. km; of the approximately two hundred in use during the Roman imperial period, only forty-one were actually built in that time (Hailer 2008). There seems to be no evidence for large rural estates in Lycia, nor in Pamphylia. This kind of agricultural production center did exist in the neighboring regions to the north, i.e., the Kibyratis and western Pisidia (Pichler 2018; Kugler 2018). Inscriptions found there show that these large estates could be owned by local families, members of the supra-regional elite, or even the imperial family (Corsten 2005). In the territory of Kyaneai, the settlement hierarchy suggests that there was a category of smaller rural sites that stood somewhere between komai (large villages) and farmsteads, but that are terminologically difficult to define. Most are scattered settlements, fluctuating between three to five and ten to twenty houses, the majority of those among the smaller, hamletlike settlements. Seventy examples were registered and at least fifty-four can be assigned to the Roman imperial period (Şanlı-Erler 2006). So their number grew significantly in this time, which could point to a change in economic structures and/or patterns of ownership. On the other hand, there was a notable decline in construction activities and number of inscriptions in the komai in the territory of Kyaneai in the Roman imperial period. This could have been a result of the remoteness of the Yavu highlands, which may have favored the emigration of the landowning elite to more central places, and of others to more rural settlements. But the situation was different in the mountainous western part (Bonda Tepe) of the territory of Limyra, where members of the polis-elite possibly still resided in the rural settlements from which they originally came. In other words, while the ambition for local autonomy and urban development could barely develop in the Yavu highlands, the people of Bonda Tepe did the opposite. In the territory of the polis of Kyaneai, all the typically Mediterranean products were grown: olives, wine and grain, as well as livestock (especially sheep and goat), were the basis of the region’s subsistence strategy. Approximately four hundred mostly rock-cut presses for wine and olives (which, in most cases, cannot be clearly distinguished from each other) and large-scale terracing attest to viticulture and olive growing practices, while cereal cultivation and animal products are shown by numerous threshing floors and corrals. This richly detailed picture of the countryside comes from the intensive survey of the territory of Kyaneai, but may be valid – with local differences – for the rest of Lycia as well.

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Administrative Buildings In the course of establishing the province Lycia, Patara became the capital and seat of the governor, though a residence for this official is yet to be identified. With the formation of the double province, however, the governor’s seat moved to one of the Pamphylian cities, though it is unclear which. In Lycia, as elsewhere, the most important political institutions during the Roman imperial period were the people’s assembly (demos) and the council (boule), as well as a committee of the oldest (gerousia). Only a few Lycian settlements have inscriptions that mention or remains that can be convincingly identified as assembly buildings, such as those for the council (bouleuteria), and these all show different architectural plans. In Kyaneai, however, the identification of a building close to the agora in the city center as a bouleuterion, though significantly altered into a building of unknown function in Byzantine times, may be correct. In Arykanda, another possible bouleuterion is a rectangular building whose rear walls, with several rows of benches, were cut out of the rock; it was located at the end of a terrace, slightly separate from the theater and the agora. Patara boasts the best-known, very well-preserved, and now expensively restored bouleuterion, situated, probably with the prytaneion (officials’ headquarters), close to the as-yetunexcavated agora (İşkan et al. 2016, 68–72). Another combination of bouleuterion and prytaneion may be that at Tlos, where they have been identified as two connected structures situated above the stadium (Korkut 2016, 84–87). In Patara, the size of the council can be inferred from inscriptions as 170–250 members. The exterior of their bouleuterion, built at the turn of the second to first century bce, was nearly rectilinear, but its interior was a slightly more than semicircular roofed theater. After the earthquake of 141/142 ce, it needed considerable repairs, and might have also served as an odeon (recital hall) later on. The bouleuterion of Patara also served as an assembly place for the delegates of the Lycian League. All Lycian towns had at least one agora as their political, social, and economic center. In some cases, as at Xanthos, the agora might have developed from an open square, the so-called Lycian agora, that was a central feature of pre-Hellenistic Lycian settlements. Though these spaces may have shared some functions with the Greek agora, they operated under very different socio-political conditions, often being associated with tombs, and were not related to the institutions of the Greek polis. Furthermore, the terrain of Lycia was inappropriate for large open squares, which is why spacious agorai were rather the exception. One of these exceptions is Tlos, where two agorai seem to have been connected to each other on different levels of terrain (Korkut 2016, 64–81). The lower agora was bordered on three sides by columned halls and integrated the stadium as well as a large (69.50 × 8.50 m) pool with a fountain on its southern end. In the east, an elongated two-story hall with three aisles and two stories formed the transition to the higher level of the upper agora, which was also framed by porticos. The transitional hall was likely multifunctional, with some elaborate rooms; its lower floor probably served as a storeroom, while the upper floor might have housed shops and workshops. In Xanthos, there were also two agorai, now partly excavated. The so-called Roman Agora bordered the “Lycian Akropolis” and the theater in the north. It is likely that, in the tradition of Lycian central squares mentioned above, this agora was connected to some tomb monuments of the Lycian dynastic past, although it was built only in the first century ce. Only a little is preserved of its columned halls surrounding the almost square open space, and of the monumental arched gate that gave access from the east. From there an almost 12 m wide colonnaded street ran east, ending at a gate built in the early Roman imperial period, whose two archways led to a small paved square. A nymphaeum (monumental fountain) decorated with statues of Roman emperors was located north of the square. South of the arched gate



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and the square was the second agora of Xanthos, the “Upper Agora,” one of the few places in Xanthos where the transition from the Hellenistic to the Roman period is archaeologically tangible (Cavalier 2020). The three-aisled basilica on the Upper Agora’s eastern side was built above a late Hellenistic forerunner, while the other three sides were bordered by columned halls with mosaic floors. The ground floor of the basilica was on a lower level than the agora, accessible only from the street on the east (Cavalier 2012). In northern Lycia, at Oinoanda, the agora was rebuilt in a similar style to the agora of Carian Aphrodisias in the second century ce, accessible by arched gates from the surrounding quarters. To the northeast of the agora, a large portico was erected at an “Esplanade.” In the second half of the second century, the philosopher Diogenes of Oinoanda had an approximately 25,000 word summary of the philosophic ideas of Epicurus carved into its rear wall (Smith 1993). Several new fragments of this singular Greek inscription were found and studied during recent survey activity (Hammerstaedt and Smith 2014). As elsewhere, the agorai of Lycia also offered space for the celebration of important citizens, who were honored with inscriptions and statues. In some cases, triumphal arches were erected to commemorate the special merits of important individuals. For example, Sextus Marcius Priscus, governor of Lycia under Vespasian, was honored with an arch built into the main gate of Xanthos. At Kyaneai, a three-passage arch was integrated into the northeast gate, honoring an unknown citizen of the town. The city of Patara honored another governor of Lycia, Mettius Modestus, at the end of the first century ce by erecting a monumental arch with three passages at the main entrance to the city, probably replacing an older gate (Figure 24.2). Still very well-preserved, the arch was once decorated with statues of Modestus and his family, and also served as part of the city’s water distribution system. In a poorer state of preservation, but even more important because of its early date and its historical background, is a single arch at Limyra honoring Ornimythos, one of the last representatives of the Lycian League before the establishment of the province in 43 ce (Wörrle 2016; Seyer and Quatember 2020, 374–376).

Figure 24.2  Triumphal arch of Mettius Modestus at Patara. Photo by Oliver Hülden.

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Spectacle Buildings Theaters Almost all the major Lycian cities had a theater in the Roman imperial period. Over thirty theaters and two odeia are currently known in Lycia, including the Kibyratis and the Milyas (Isler 2018). This means that Lycia has nearly 15% of the total number of theater buildings in Asia Minor, about as many as Caria. More than half the Lycian theaters were already built during the Hellenistic period, but some underwent significant renovations in Roman times, usually adapting the skene (stage building) to western models. Of the theaters newly built in the Roman imperial period, many replaced those destroyed by the devastating earthquake of ce 141/142, with financial support from Opramoas of Rhodiapolis. The reason for the construction of other examples is unknown. Generally, however, Lycian theaters of Roman times seem to have been built in the ­second half of the second century ce. The theaters of Roman Asia Minor can be divided into three different types. The first, termed the Roman type of Asia Minor, shows a more than semi-circular cavea (seating section) built into a hillside, a high proskenion (stage platform) and a skene (structure at the back of the stage) with an architectural façade with combined Hellenistic and western Roman elements. The second and rarest type is the pure Roman or western type, with a strictly semicircular plan, its stage building and cavea joined by vaulted aditus structures. The third type maintains the Hellenistic tradition of separation between the two structures, but its cavea is nonetheless semicircular. None of the Lycian theaters shows regionally specific features. Instead, all of them, whether Hellenistic or Roman in date, follow the traditions of Asia Minor. Only the theaters of Caria might have had a certain influence on their Lycian counterparts. These three theater types are not equally represented in Lycia. The theater of Xanthos is the only example of the pure western type with a closed plan. In Patara, the theater was of the first type, built in the (early?) Hellenistic period and remodeled in the first half of the second century ce according to Roman taste, while still preserving its original outline (Piesker and Ganzert 2012). Elaborate multistoried stage façades were one of the new Roman features, and served elsewhere as an urban structural element as well. Perhaps the greatest example is the stage front of the theater of Myra (Figure 24.3), decorated extravagantly with aediculae and marble, counted among the (noncanonical) Wonders of the World. Excavations of the theater at Tlos revealed parts of the marble decoration of the stage building, including a garland frieze with mythological scenes and statues of emperors and their families.

Stadia Only a few Lycian settlements seem to have had a stadium, probably due to the mostly inhospitable terrain for this expansive building. It is possible, however, that the layout of these sports facilities was less elaborate and/or smaller than elsewhere, which may make them less identifiable on the ground. In the center of Kadyanda, for example, a ca. 15 m wide space, framed on one side by a Doric portico and on the other by six rows of seats, obviously served as a stadium, especially since various inscriptions of agonothetai (who presided over games) testify to athletic competitions in the town. At the same time, the open space seems to have also served as a processional way. A similar situation can be found at Kyaneai, where a rectangular open space in front of the theater was probably used as a stadium, possibly the venue of the Sthenelaia, games in honor of Sthenele, also known as Lykia, daughter of Ptolemaios and a prominent female citizen of Kyaneai. Within the settlement, there was also an honorific memorial building for this family, called the Sthenelaion, featuring a statue of Nike, goddess of victory, and other statues set up by the victors of the games.



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Figure 24.3  Theater at Myra. Photo by Oliver Hülden.

Unlike Kadyanda and Kyaneai, Tlos has terrain more favorable for the construction of a proper stadium. This building’s remains lie in a flat depression between the “Old Town” and its castle and theater, and it may have measured precisely 600 feet, the usual length for stadia. In the northwest, where the terrain rises toward the castle, numerous, almost continuous, rows of seats are still preserved. Patara, with its comparatively flat terrain, also had a stadium. Such sports facilities are yet to be discovered in the settlements of mountainous central Lycia, however. In eastern Lycia, only at Arykanda has a stadium been located, above the theater. It is half the usual length, and there were only three rows of seats for the spectators going up the settlement hill. Again, this is likely due to the area’s difficult terrain.

Gymnasia, Baths, and Water Supply The earliest mention of a gymnasium in Lycia is on inscriptions from Limyra dating to the period of Ptolemaic rule, the later third century bce (for this and the following, see Wörrle 2016). During the Roman imperial period, gymnasia in Lycia, as in other provinces, were turned from places of military and athletic education into areas for relaxation and cultural meetings, which can be characterized as “demilitarization.” There are also records of baths connected with palaestrae (wrestling grounds), which might also have been referred to as “gymnasia” at that time, as at Arykanda, Kyaneai, and Oinoanda. As the terms gymnasion and balaneion (bath) also coexist in inscriptions (e.g., at Patara), the two were distinguished as separate buildings, at least in some cases. It is also possible that some gymnasia of the Hellenistic period, with their ordinary unheated bathing facilities, were upgraded with thermae (heated Italian-style baths) built in their vicinity. The construction of such bath buildings, often imperially subsidized, in various Lycian towns and cities could be regarded as a specific measure of Romanization (Wörrle 2016, 418 with n. 69).

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Lycia’s bath structures are modest in contrast with those of the major cities of Asia Minor, where baths and gymnasia were combined into multifunctional complexes of enormous dimensions, featuring columned halls, libraries, banquet rooms, sporting grounds, and pools as well as baths. About thirty-five such simple baths, usually featuring three rectangular rooms in a row on the same axis, occasionally flanked by adjacent rooms, are preserved in different Lycian settlements (Farrington 1995). Within the three rooms, the order of caldarium (hot bath), tepidarium (warm bath), and frigidarium (cold bath) could vary. This Lycian type of bath has nothing in common with those of the Greek world, but copies the format developed in Italy during the second and first centuries bce, well known from towns like Pompeii and Herculaneum. Sometimes the baths differ significantly in size: at ca. 900 m sq., the bath of Xanthos was probably the largest in Lycia. Though largely buried, its plan is traceable and conforms to the usual scheme of three rooms. This large bath complex stood close to the “Lycian Acropolis” and “Roman Agora,” and Xanthos had at least one more bath of smaller dimensions. Other settlements such as Patara, Limyra, or Kyaneai also had two or more baths. Besides the usual wall heating system with tubuli, the Lycian baths show one unique and remarkable technical detail: a second brick wall constructed in front of the interior walls and connected with them with terracotta spacer pins, to allow heated air to rise between the walls. Heated baths began to be popular in Lycia shortly after the establishment of the province, as is shown by building inscriptions from Patara and Olympos, datable to the reign of Nero. Baths at Kadyanda, Simena, Xanthos, Arykanda, and Sidyma were built in the era of Trajan, and in four cases the emperor himself founded them. A second wave of bath construction came in the time of Hadrian and the Antonines, and can be connected partly, but by no means in all cases, with the earthquake of 141/142 ce. During Severan rule, nearly all of the major cities may have featured a bath. In at least one case a bath is also attested in the chora, specifically the western territory of Limyra: it belonged to a small, but obviously wealthy, village of unknown name, at modern Dinek Tepesi (Marksteiner 2004, 281). The proliferation of baths raises the question of water supply in Lycian settlements (Farrington 1995, 104–111). While at places such as Limyra or the Xanthos Valley there was no lack of water, the mountainous areas, especially in central Lycia, have almost no springs. So in towns like Kyaneai, situated in the arid highlands of Lycia, cisterns seem to have been the only facilities to provide the settlement with water. Proper aqueducts and water piping systems were built at Xanthos, Patara, Andriake, and Oinoanda, but even there the demand for water was at least partly met by cisterns, which can be found in connection with baths as well. At Patara the main aqueduct of 22.5 km length was built during the Claudian period and repaired under Vespasian (İşkan et al. 2016, 59–63); one main water reservoir (castellum aquae) and two minor reservoirs to distribute water in the city could also be identified. Nymphaea seem to have been rather rare in Lycia. None has yet been found at Patara, though there was an octagonal fountain close to the arch of Mettius Modestus. Examples of nymphaea are known from Xanthos and around the sacred spring of the Letoon sancuary (see below). Another example is a building between Myra and Andriake, obviously placed outside the cities, but close to a major road.

Temples and Sanctuaries Our knowledge of Lycian deities of the pre-Hellenistic periods is very limited, and an article of P. Frei (1990) is still the broadest overview of all the gods and goddesses of Lycia (also see Akyürek Şahin 2016). Some of them survived with their Lycian names until Roman times,



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but others were originally Greek gods identified with Lycian divinities. The adoption of foreign gods was not limited to the Greek pantheon, however. The Egyptian gods Isis (identified with Leto) and Sarapis found acceptance as well. Finally, the cult of the goddess Roma and the imperial cult were a genuine Roman addition. The most important sanctuary in Roman Lycia was still the Letoon near Xanthos, where the Lycian mother goddess and her children, identified with Leto, Apollo, and Artemis, were worshipped. The sanctuary was renovated repeatedly during the middle imperial period. While the three Hellenistic marble temples remained unaltered, a hall for the imperial cult was constructed in the area of the northern portico, and south of the temples, a semicircular nymphaeum was built vis-à-vis the holy spring in Hadrianic times. Apollo was one of the main divinities of Lycia, and was also connected with oracles. One of these was in Patara, although its site is as yet unidentified. Other oracles existed in Kyaneai and in Soura, where (as also at Limyra) the interpretation of the future was based on the feeding behaviour of fish. At Soura, the distyle in antis temple of Apollon Sourios is preserved on the seaside. In many Lycian towns (e.g., Limyra) the main divinity in Roman times was Zeus. Hermes and Herakles were connected with the gymnasium and were worshipped at all settlements that had that institution. Eleuthera, who merged with an older Lycian goddess and was sometimes identified with Artemis, had her main sanctuary in Myra in the Roman imperial period, but her cult was also practiced at many other places. Though a number of shrines can be extrapolated from written sources, only a few temples from Roman times have survived in Lycia, and most of those that are known have only been studied cursorily so far. Because of its unusual deity, the temple of Kronos at Tlos, situated near two bath buildings, is a special case, and thus one of the better analyzed examples (Uygun 2018). It is a distyle in antis Corinthian temple built on a podium, and can be dated to the second half of the second century ce. Its architectural design and decor are well preserved and can be reconstructed completely, down to the remains of paintings on the podium. Regular Lycian temples dating to the Roman imperial period can be found in komai as well as larger cities. Examples include a temple of Apollo in Korba, temples in two villages in the territory of the polis Kyaneai, and one in Trysa in connection with an agora-like square. Lycian cults of Roma seem to have been established sporadically as early as the first half of the third century bce, and spread extensively after 180 bce. An early example of imperial cult is at Patara, where a citizen named Polyperchon became the chief priest (archiereus) of the city in honor of Germanicus, the designated successor of Tiberius. From the first to the third century ce, an annually elected federal chief priest was responsible for the imperial cult within the Lycian League and was its contact for the Roman provincial administration, while the title Lykiarch dropped away as the highest official of this institution (Reitzenstein 2011). Archaeological evidence for imperial cult has been discovered at different places in Lycia. The cult hall for the emperors in the Letoon has already been mentioned, and another example was in the abovementioned basilica in Xanthos. At Boubon in “northern Lycia,” a building partly excavated by looters in the 1960s is interpreted as a Sebasteion, or a building for the cult of the Augusti (Kokkinia 2008, 10–16, 151–153). The looters unearthed various bronze statues of Roman emperors and their wives (see sculpture, below), which were erected on inscribed platforms and bases along the interior walls. The building was probably consecrated under Nero and used at least until the middle of the third century ce. A continuity, or rather a revival, of old cults can be observed in areas outside the major cities of Roman Lycia, probably because some social classes were only superficially Hellenized (Frei 1990, 1852). This might be the case with the “Twelve Lycian Gods,” represented by numerous reliefs that were apparently set in niches in rural open-air sanctuaries

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(Freyer-Schauenburg 1994). Their origin is as unclear as their connection with the Twelve Gods mentioned in inscriptions of the classical period but never depicted. The reliefs of the Roman imperial period always show two registers: in the upper one, identical male gods, mostly armed with spears (hunters?), stand on either side of a central, thirteenth, deity in a gabled shrine. The lower register shows twelve identical seated dogs similarly divided into two equal groups, turning their heads to a central figure standing on a pedestal. Another “old Lycian” deity worshiped in numerous rural open-air rock sanctuaries is the rider god Kakasbos, often equated with Herakles. His cult seems to have been restricted to the upper Xanthos Valley and the areas bordering Lycia in the north, i.e., the Kibyratis and western Pisidia, but his sanctuaries have also been found in Telmessos and Tlos. Rock-cut reliefs of other groups of deities, for example, the Theoi Loandeis, Theoi Skleroi, or Theoi Agrioi, are also frequently found in rural areas. A previously unknown rural god, Sumendis, was worshipped in the territory of Limyra, in an extraordinary open-air sanctuary with numerous sculpted stelai (Marksteiner et al. 2007).

Necropoleis, Tombs, and Burial Customs Lycia is known for its extraordinarily broad spectrum of tomb types, which developed during the fifth and fourth centuries bce. Tombs are still one of the most significant features of sites in the region, due to their specific architectural designs and sheer omnipresence (Hülden 2006). The chief characteristic for these tombs, whether they are free-standing tomb houses, rock-cut façade tombs, or sarcophagi, is that they transformed local wooden architecture into stone. These easily accessible tombs were erected in great numbers until the early Hellenistic period, and many were in use for generations. This may explain why there was no need to build new tombs during the later Hellenistic and the Roman period at many places. On the other hand, at Kyaneai, for example, a large, mostly Roman imperial necropolis of sarcophagi extended along the arterial roads outside the city walls. Apparently, the integration of Lycia into the Roman Empire had little impact on local burial culture. Sarcophagi were already common in Lycia from the Classical period, as freestanding monuments made from local limestone, but they saw their greatest heyday in the high imperial period, from the second century ce on, when burial in sarcophagi became popular throughout the empire. In the necropolis of Kyaneai, for instance, which contains the largest number (384) of sarcophagi in Lycia, more than half, if not three quarters, of these tombs were built during the Roman imperial period (Hülden 2010). The majority adhered to the characteristic ogival design of the lid, invented in the Classical period and a clear reflection of Lycian identity since that time (Hülden 2007). In comparison, only a few sarcophagi had the lid with straight-sided gabled roof and akroteria so fashionable in the rest of the empire. It is notable that such sarcophagi with gabled-roof lids can be found in Lycian ports, and, based on the funerary inscriptions, the buried person was often of non-Lycian origin. Peculiar to the Kibyratis and western Pisidia were sarcophagi with gabled-roof lids with couched lions, plus several examples of sarcophagi with flat lids and reclining couples on them. Though other carved architectural elements, such as pilasters, were frequently used as lateral framing on sarcophagi, elaborate relief decoration remained rather exceptional. The pediments of the lids frequently showed decorative elements, like a single phiale (libation bowl) or rosette. Occasionally, the cubic projections used to lift the lid were carved in the form of animal protomes or human busts. In some cases, flying cupids were depicted carrying the inscribed tabula ansata panel. More complex figurative sculpture, including narratives and work-related scenes, are very rare, and the occupation of the tomb owner is almost never mentioned in the inscriptions, though one exception is the sarcophagus of the shipowner Eudemos of Olympos (Figure 24.4).



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Figure 24.4  Sarcophagus of the shipowner Eudemos at Olympos. Photo by Oliver Hülden.

From Classical times on, a transformation took place in the side panels of Lycian sarcophagi, which had originated from the filling boards of Greek wooden coffins. They were used early on as a place for inscriptions, then developed from long rectangular panels hollowed on the exteriors of each side to broader sculpted tabulae ansatae with “ears” of different forms, on one side only. The typology of the combination of inscriptions, which were presumably painted if not engraved, and inscription panels allows at least a rough chronological classification of many sarcophagi. Sarcophagi were often divided into an upper and lower burial chamber, and some even had three, with the lower chamber (hyposorion) embedded into the stepped podium or underground foundation, one burial chamber in the chest, and one in the lid. This practice of division, already common in pre-Roman times in Lycia, shows that sarcophagi, as well as other grave types, served almost without exception as family tombs. Indeed, a hierarchy of the buried family members becomes clear from numerous tomb inscriptions: the upper burial chamber was reserved for the head of the family, his wife, and other close family members such as (often named) children, while the hyposorion served for burial of the wider household, often including slaves. Some of the hyposoria featured altar-shaped stones sealing their small entrances. These were either intended for actual sacrifices within the funerary cult, or to symbolize or recall such sacrifice (Hülden 2010, 41–45). Lycian limestone sarcophagi were generally set up under the open sky, but the occasional imported marble sarcophagus presumably belonged in a closed tomb monument (Stuppner 2012). This remains unproven, however, as most examples were not found in situ. It is more certain, however, that marble sarcophagi were imported from Attica, from the workshops of the “kleinasiatische Hauptgruppe.” Not represented among the imports (with one exception from Megiste) are examples from the production centers of Ephesos, Aphrodisias, or Rome. Sarcophagi made of Proconnesian marble are rare, and it is unclear whether they were transported to Lycia finished or as semifinished products to be completed in a local workshop.

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More monumental tombs for rich citizens and benefactors of the Roman period can be found at many places in Lycia. In Kyaneai, for example, Xanthippos and his son Marcus Aurelius Neikostratos were buried in a temple-like tomb (Hülden 2010, 160–162). The same might be the case with Iason, one of the most important sons of the town, who left a large rock inscription in Kyaneai and was presumably buried in a heroon yet to be identified. Perhaps the richest and most generous benefactor of Lycia, Opramoas of Rhodiapolis in eastern Lycia, was buried in a four-columned temple tomb close to the theater, within the city limits. The building’s exterior walls were covered with a corpus of sixty-four documents, including letters from the emperor and governor, decrees, and a list of Opramoas’s benefactions (Kokkinia 2000). Perhaps the best-preserved monumental temple tomb in Lycia can be found along the ancient road between Myra and Soura (Figure 24.5; Borchhardt 1975, 61–63). A whole series of smaller versions of such temple tombs rose just above the gymnasium at Arykanda, in a separate area of the town. Presumably the largest temple tomb in Lycia is the 19 × 14 m Tomb A in the necropolis of Patara. The building was situated on the western shore of the harbor, and had a podium with hyposorion; its broad staircase led to a barrel-vaulted cella with a façade fronted by probably four Corinthian columns. Its chief inhabitant was Publius Paconius Hermeias, a citizen of Rhodes as well as Patara, who had built the tomb for himself, his wife Vilia Nike, and his descendants. This and three other monumental tombs framed the harbor of Patara and commemorated their builders and families at exposed and clearly visible places. Exedra tombs, funerary altars, and ostothekai (cremation boxes) were also used for burial during the Roman imperial period, though substantially fewer ostothekai have been found in Lycia than in neighboring Pamphylia and Pisidia. A particularly elaborate U-shaped exedra tomb was discovered in connection with the farmstead of one Alkimos, below Kyaneai, and consisted of three sarcophagi with a round bench as an invitation to sit, linger and remember the dead (Kolb 2008, 317–321). This ensemble was furnished extravagantly with honorary bases, bronze sculptures, and a sella castrensis (folding chair for a commander). Later, a fourth sarcophagus of one Lysandros, unrelated to the family of Alkimos, was added to the exedra, indicating a change of ownership of the farmstead and allowing insight into real estate transfers during the Roman imperial period. Finally, a unique tomb is the Cenotaph of Gaius Caesar at Limyra. It is a monument, rather than a grave, for the grandson and favorite successor of Augustus, who died in that Lycian city in 4 ce on his return from campaigning against the Parthians (Ganzert 1984). Only the towering opus caementicium core is preserved, but the original building consisted of a high, square ashlar podium sheathed in marble, with a frieze of life-sized figures decorating the upper part of each of the four sides (see sculpture, below). Above the podium was a probably cuboid structure with pilasters, a false door, and other architectural elements that were crowned by a stepped or smooth pyramidal roof.

Crafts and Trade, Harbors and Roads There is less known about crafts and trade in Lycia than in other parts of the Roman world. This is because there is hardly any mention of these activities in (tomb) inscriptions, and our current archaeological knowledge of places of production and workshops is limited. As elsewhere, agriculture formed the main source of income of the Lycian population and was the basis for the prosperity of the upper classes. Crafts and trade must have contributed to this prosperity as well, but little is yet known about the proportion and the groups involved.



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Figure 24.5  Temple tomb between Soura and Myra. Photo by Oliver Hülden.

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It is remarkable that, even when they formed a single province, there was little contact between Lycia and Pamphylia, which seems to have formed an economic unity with Pisidia instead (Brandt and Kolb 2005, 100–101). Ancient sources emphasize the fertility of Lycia, which guaranteed abundant food supplies, and a wide range of other products are mentioned, including large marine sponges, goat hair for rope production, medical oil, ham, and wood. One luxury industry was the production of purple dye from murex shellfish, attested archaeologically at harbor settlements like Aperlai and Andriake (Aygün 2017). Fishing and its byproducts, such as salted fish, were also part of the economy (Zimmermann 2003, 288–292). Finally, special goods included medical instruments from Patara, while gold-plated sandals and metal bowls were well-known as products of Lycian craftsmanship. The intensive and systematic cultivation of nearly all parts of Lycia led to agricultural surpluses. For example, it is estimated on the basis of its possible cultivated area that the polis of Kyaneai generated an annual yield of ca. 600,000 liters of olive oil. Trade in oil made at least one ship owner, Eudemos, wealthy, as we learn from his tomb (Figure 24.4; Atvur and Adak 1997). Buried in his hometown, the port city of Olympos in eastern Lycia, his sarcophagus bore the relief of a ship and an inscription telling us that he sold the oil to the Black Sea area. The exchange of goods between town and country was also furthered by local markets and traveling traders. Though the presence of Roman businessmen (negotiatores) is well attested in Pamphylia, Pisidia, and the Kibyratis, there is no indication that such groups existed in Lycia. As Eudemos’s career shows, Lycia was connected with long-distance trade networks through its harbors, whose customs taxes became an important source of income. From the harbor of Andriake came an inscription of customs regulations of the Lycian League under Nero (Takmer 2007). Lycia’s series of excellent harbors was also documented in ancient written sources. Some of them were already anchorages in pre-Roman times and connected the region, loosely at first, with other parts of the Mediterranean world. The harbors grew increasingly important in the course of the Hellenistic and Roman imperial periods, due to the intensification of supra-regional trade. This is shown by inscriptions on the tombs of foreigners, which were discovered not just in major ports but even in the small harbor settlement of Timiussa in central Lycia. That harbor was linked to Tyberissos, a settlement in the hinterland, and such inland towns maintained their position as central places. A clear shift of settlements from the mountain regions to the sea can only be observed in Lycia from the third century ce onward (Zimmermann 2003). Although not too much is known about the infrastructure of Lycian harbors, some special types of buildings have been preserved. At Patara, a lighthouse (pharos), in the form of a square platform on which a slender and relatively simple round tower rose, was recently discovered close to the entrance of the harbor (İşkan et al. 2016, 83–86). Its date in the reign of Nero derives from a monumental inscription naming the governor Marcius Priscus as founder of this building as well as of a twin lighthouse (antipharos), yet to be discovered. Lycian harbors were apparently developed more extensively in the Hadrianic period. At that time, big warehouses (horrea), serving for storage of either agricultural products from Lycia’s hinterland, the broader Mediterranean grain trade, or both, were built at Patara, Andriake, and likely elsewhere. A network of roads and paths, at least partially established in pre-Roman times and then expanded, allowed for the overland transport of goods. Lycia was bypassed by the large overland routes to its north, like the Via Sebaste, but the entire local road system, registered on the pillar-like monument known as the Stadiasmos Patarensis, is exceedingly dense. It originated from a major road construction program carried out by Quintus Veranius, the first governor of the province, though he likely just renovated already existing roads. On two sides the monument lists the Lycian towns and their connecting road system, as well as the distances. This is why it is one of the most important sources for the historical geography and



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topography of Lycia during the Roman imperial period (Şahin and Adak 2007). Many of the road sections it names are still identifiable. Some ancient bridges have survived in Lycia. One connected Limyra with the neighboring settlements to its east, Korydalla, Rhodiapolis, Gaigai, and Melanippe. At ca. 360 m long, the bridge has over twenty-eight arches made from bricks and massive opus caementicium.

Sculpture Only a few marble sculptures have survived in Lycia. Many were broken up as building material for new fortifications and other buildings in the Byzantine period, and even more were burnt in the lime kilns often found in excavations, and so are irretrievably lost. There was a far greater loss rate, of course, for bronze statues, nearly all of which were melted down, while those from the Sebasteion at Boubon were looted and sold abroad (see below). It is therefore very difficult to provide an overview of sculpture in Roman Lycia, which explains why no corpus has been published (cf. Erkoç 2016). Accordingly, like everywhere else in the empire, the number of sculptures in Lycian settlements must have been substantially higher than is reflected by the finds. Numerous honorary statues of marble, limestone, or bronze, representing local citizens or imperial officials, were set up in the cities’ agorai, and even in central squares of some villages, as shown by inscribed bases with plinths or dowel holes (Wörrle 2004). The numerous sites for the imperial cult also held places for the installation of statues of emperors and imperial family members. The abovementioned Sebasteion of Boubon is the most important group: three bronze statues of Lucius Verus, Septimius Severus and a mature Caracalla, three bronze torsos (of Marcus Aurelius, Commodus, and Valerian), as well as a bronze portrait head of an adolescent Caracalla, were discovered in illegal excavations (Inan 1994). Marble statues of members of the imperial family, among other images, also decorated nymphaea and theaters. For example, statues of the emperors Hadrian, Antoninus Pius, Marcus Aurelius, and the wives of the latter two, Faustina Maior and Faustina Minor, were found in the stage building of the theater at Tlos (Korkut 2016, 40–41). An important sculptural work of the Augustan period is the frieze of the cenotaph of Gaius Caesar in Limyra, though only a few fragments are preserved. Nevertheless, Borchhardt (2002) attempted to comprehensively reconstruct the monument. According to him, the frieze should have shown scenes from the life of the deceased, such as his departure for the campaign against the Parthians, a meeting with the Parthian King Phraates V, and scenes of a sacrifice. Also from Julio-Claudian times was a marble figure of a boy found at Patara, possibly representing Gaius or Lucius Caesar (İşkan et al. 2016, 117–118). In addition to these probably imported high-quality examples, a far larger number of sculptures were made in Lycia. Their local iconography and style means that they are often considered as folk art. Among them are the abovementioned “Twelve Gods” reliefs (Freyer-Schauenburg 1994), as well as numerous other rock-cut reliefs of local gods such as the rider Kakasbos.

Coinage From 27 bce, the Lycian League struck coins that showed the portrait of Augustus. After the establishment of the province, however, local coinage came to an abrupt end, though denarii and bronze coins were presumably produced in Patara; they were lighter than the imperial coinage, and were therefore probably intended for regional circulation only. Another League

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coinage was minted in the time of Trajan, but beyond that, there seems to have been no specifically Lycian coinage in the course of the imperial period, despite the fact that Pamphylian and Pisidian cities struck bronze civic coins continuously until the second half of the third century ce (Brandt and Kolb 2005, 31). In 242 ce, when emperor Gordian III passed through Lycia for his campaign against the Parthians, Lycian towns briefly minted civic bronze coins. While the obverses show the emperor himself or his wife Sabina Tranquillina, local divinities are usually depicted on the reverses. Patara’s coin reverses, for example, show Apollo or symbols linked with his cult (İşkan et al. 2016, 58).

Pottery In spite of the long history of excavation in Lycia, systematic research on pottery has been rudimentary, and there is a lack of general studies (cf. Lemaître 2007; Dündar 2016). What research has been done mainly focused on the imported fine wares, the analysis of which is much simpler, while our knowledge of (far more numerous) kitchen wares is still very limited. Research and archaeometric study on these mostly local wares is still at an early stage. A study of two particular find complexes from Limyra, however, was recently published (Yener-Marksteiner 2019). Consisting of numerous fineware sherds of the first to third centuries ce, both complexes contained imported Eastern Sigillata A, B, C, and D as well as tableware produced locally or regionally in considerably higher quantities. This material presented the first comprehensive overview of the spectrum of forms of imported wares of the Roman imperial period, as well as a framework for the typology and typochronology of table wares from Limyra, or rather eastern Lycia. Moreover, with the help of scientific analyses, it was possible to identify local clay deposits. Because of this combined approach, the study not only allows insights into the social, cultural, and above all, economic circumstances of Limyra during the Roman imperial period, but also its trade relations. Further, stamped amphorae found at Patara, Limyra, Xanthos, and the Letoon, among other sites, suggest a deeper integration of Lycia in supra-regional trade networks than previously noted. The amphorae originated from cities like Pergamon, Ephesos, Sagalassos, and Tarsus, as well as locations in Cyprus, Italy, Baetica in Spain, the Levant, Mauritania, and Tripolitania. Pottery production in Patara began in the Hellenistic period and continued at least until early Byzantine times, as shown by the discovery of kilns at various places, including the oldest one on Tepecik hill. Moreover, a new group of red slip pottery from Patara may have been identified (Dündar 2016, 514–518). Rhodiapolis also produced pottery, but only in the fourth and fifth centuries ce. Analyses of sigillata and red slip pottery from Myra have proved that these ceramics came from Africa, Phokaia, Cyprus, and Egypt, as well as a probably local group. Based on recent archaeometric analyses, Tlos and Xanthos may also be considered as possible pottery producers. Ceramics workshops also existed in rural areas, though despite some progress these remain underresearched. An inscription of 138 ce, from an ancient village close to modern Dereköy, ca. 14 km northwest of Araxa in western Lycia, mentions potters producing vessels and rooftiles in a rural context (Wörrle and Wurster 1997). No archaeological evidence yet attests to this, as the site awaits more intensive research. Recently, however, such evidence has been found just outside Lycia, in the area between the Kibyratis and Sagalassos in Pisidia. Near a Turkish village, Sazak, a high number of ruined pottery kilns, some for table wares, were found in connection with a settlement that seems to have belonged to an elite family’s large estate in the Roman imperial period (Kugler 2018). All these are new, exciting discoveries,



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and similar surprises may be expected for the future. In addition, the number of broader presentations of ceramic materials and catalogs connected to stratigraphic excavations in the better-researched places of Lycia should increase, not only for the Roman imperial period but for the periods before and after as well.

Acknowledgments I thank Will M. Kennedy for proofreading the first version of the manuscript. Furthermore, I owe special thanks to Barbara Burrell for the invitation to take part in this book project, for her patience, and for preventing me from making several mistakes.

Biographical Note Oliver Hülden studied Classical Archaeology, Prehistory and Ancient History in Tübingen and Bochum, achieving his Ph.D. in 2004, and his Habilitation in 2016 (Ludwig-MaximiliansUniversität München). He held fellowships at Koç University’s Research Center for Anatolian Civilizations (Istanbul), the German Archaeological Institute, and the Gerda Henkel Foundation. In 2016 he became part of the Austrian Archaeological Institute/Austrian Academy of Sciences, Vienna. He has led survey projects in Lycia, the Kibyratis and Achaea (Leontion).

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CHAPTER 25

Pamphylia Matthias C. Pichler

“Land of All Tribes”: The Cultural and Historical Context of pre-Hellenistic Pamphylia Throughout antiquity, Pamphylia – literally “the land of all tribes” – had been a region defined by inner contradictions and conflicts rather than by the comparatively high cultural homogeneity that characterized some of its neighboring landscapes. While the degree of urbanization and settlement density in prehistoric Pamphylia remains uncertain, there must have been indigenous populations when Greek colonists arrived during the Archaic and Classical periods (Brandt 1992, 15–25). The emergence of the Pamphylian language as a mixture of Greek and native dialects testifies to a symbiotic process of mutual acculturation. Though numerous local foundation myths setting the arrival of Greeks in the aftermath of the Trojan War must be considered as later constructions of history from Roman imperial times, they might nonetheless outline basic social and cultural developments in pre-­Hellenistic Pamphylia. It remains unclear, however, whether the term Πάμφυλοι originated from the point in time when Greeks and indigenous people cohabited in the region, which is archaeologically evident from the seventh century bce onward (Brandt and Kolb 2005, 15). Whereas inscriptions in the Pamphylian language have been discovered mainly in western Pamphylia, the Sidetans and their neighbors maintained their own Anatolian dialect, which might have been the common language of all Pamphylians before being widely replaced by GraecoPamphylian (Martini and Eschbach 2017, 475). It seems that Pamphylia never represented a cultural entity like neighboring Lycia, let alone established a political coalition of its major cities like the Lycian League. Fierce rivalries between certain Pamphylian cities arose as early as pre-Hellenistic times, culminating in active partisanship as different Hellenistic dynasties competed for supremacy in southern Asia Minor during the following centuries, and heightening toward a relentless struggle for prestige and influence during the Roman imperial period (Nollé 1993a), though there were certainly tendencies toward regional coalescence under the empire (Vitale 2012).

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 2, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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Land between Mountain and Sea: The Geographical Context The stage for these events was the southern coast of the Anatolian peninsula/Asia Minor. Three major rivers were of utmost importance for the formation of the regional landscape and its lasting economic prosperity: the Aksu Çayı, Köprü Çayı, and Manavgat Çayı, the ancient Kestros, Eurymedon, and Melas (Figure 25.1; Brandt and Kolb 2005, 12–14). Over time, these rivers formed a continuous chain of vast alluvial plains, stretching about 80 km along the coast eastward from Antalya (ancient Attaleia), and extending inland up to 25 km. The Pamphylian plain constituted the economic backbone of the region and produced its most thriving cities, while the periphery was dominated by rather inaccessible hilly landscapes and the ranges of the Taurus mountains down to the sea. The latter form a semicircular natural barrier, blocking off the Pamphylian plain from Pisidia and Isauria to the north and the large peninsulas of Lycia to the west and Rough Cilicia to the east. It was nonetheless difficult even for ancient authors to exactly determine the boundary lines between Pamphylia and its neighbors, as the landscapes were not only defined by geography but also by cultural, ethnographic, and political circumstances (Arena 2005, 27–35). The city of Phaselis on the eastern coast of the Lycian peninsula, for instance, had almost continuously been embedded in the political structures of the Lycian League from the second century bce onward, though it was considered Pamphylian by most ancient sources due to its Greek origins as a Rhodian colony. The city and its territory were assigned to Lycia under the terms of the treaty of alliance (foedus) between Rome and the Lycian League in 46 bce (Brandt and Kolb 2005, 22), establishing the provincial border between the two regions. Just across the border, the Greek colony Olbia was the westernmost settlement of Pamphylia in the early empire, according to Strabo (Geography 14.4.1), and likely corresponds to the modern coastal town of Kemer approximately 7 km north of Phaselis (Adak 2006). The

Figure 25.1  Map of the province Pamphylia, by John Wallrodt.



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location of the eastern border between Pamphylia and Cilicia is more controversial, but nonliterary evidence suggests that it was east of modern Alanya, around the settlements of Laertes and Syedra, for at least some time under the empire. This means that a fair part of western Rough Cilicia was counted within the province Pamphylia.

The Impact of Rome’s “Global Power” After the Syrian War and the subsequent Treaty of Apameia in 188 bce, Pamphylia increasingly fell under the sway of Roman foreign policy, and was exposed to the interests of Rome’s allies (Brandt 1992, 39–44; Nollé 1993a, 307–310; Brandt and Kolb 2005, 20–21). Initially, Lycia fell among Rhodes’s mainland possessions, while Pamphylia was claimed by the Attalids of Pergamon for its excellent strategic position. Yet some cities, like Aspendos and Side, managed to evade Attalid rule, and might have gained autonomy by appealing to Rome and being acknowledged as Roman allies. Unable to gain access to the important ports of eastern Pamphylia, which had previously been controlled by their Seleucid opponents, the Attalids decided to found Attaleia as their own military and trade base on the west coast shortly after 159 bce. When Rome inherited the Pergamene territories under the will of Attalos III, Pamphylia became part of the newly formed province of Asia (Brandt 1992, 94–100; Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 103–109). Only a few years later, the Roman consul of 101, Manius Aquillius, saw to the construction of a road that connected Pergamon and Side (see Figure 25.2), showing that Roman influence

Figure 25.2  Plan of the city of Side, by John Wallrodt.

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did not stop at the borders of the inherited territory, and de facto terminating the autonomy of the eastern Pamphylian cities. The first third of the first century bce was overshadowed by Rome’s strategic actions against the noticeable increase in piracy in southern Anatolia, and against renegade Pamphylian cities like Attaleia and Side. As a result, the new province of Cilicia was established, incorporating Pamphylia with Rough Cilicia and parts of Lycia and Pisidia. Cn. Pompeius Magnus finally gained a decisive victory over the pirates off the Pamphylian coast in 67 bce, and Pamphylia was reassigned to Asia roughly a generation later. When Mark Antony reorganized the eastern provinces after the Battle of Philippi, he awarded Pisidia and parts of Pamphylia to Amyntas, king of Galatia, but after Amyntas’s death in 25 bce, Emperor Augustus incorporated his territories into the empire as the new province of Galatia. It has become quite clear by now that there was never really a separate province of Pamphylia until the region finally merged with Lycia to form the province of Lycia et Pamphylia under Vespasian (Adak and Wilson 2012).

A Brief History of Exploration and Research There is one name that is inextricably connected to archaeological research in Pamphylia after World War II: Arif Müfid Mansel. In 1946, the Turkish scholar began excavating at Perge, revealing large parts of the ancient city and giving important insights into its urban development. Only one year later, Mansel started excavations at the site of Side, ultimately publishing several studies on the architecture and landscape of the city (e.g., Mansel 1963). Though his work can still be considered comprehensive for some aspects of Roman Side, additional and partially divergent findings have been made through detailed studies and the use of modern research methods in recent years. While there have been several smaller projects at sites like Aspendos and Sillyon, our knowledge of the cities of Roman Pamphylia still relies heavily on the finds at Perge and Side. During the 1970s, excavations were carried out by Mansel’s successor Jale İnan at an impressive, ruined city in the Taurus foothills northeast of Side, which scholars identify as either ancient Lyrbe or Seleukeia. Our image of Attaleia, however, is fragmented, as the ancient city has more or less disappeared under expanding modern Antalya, with only rescue excavations to intermittently add to our knowledge. The same fate is shared by nearby Magydos and Korakesion in eastern Pamphylia. The destruction of ancient remains by modern society make the consultation of earlier accounts worthwhile (Recke 2007). Throughout the eighteenth and particularly the nineteenth centuries, scholars and dilettanti toured the eastern Mediterranean, and some revealed the archaeological riches of Pamphylia. The extensive studies of Austrian scholars under the patronage of Count Karol Lanckoroński and their successors are especially noteworthy, and still provide valuable information (Nollé 1993a, 297). Epigraphical research has also been of inestimable value for our general knowledge of Pamphylia, particularly the publications of Terence B. Mitford and George E. Bean during the 1960s and 1970s (Tomaschitz 1998, 7) and of Sencer Şahin and Johannes Nollé in more recent years.

Sites and Territories: Continuity and Change The settlement pattern of Pamphylia gradually evolved around the indigenous sites of Aspendos, Magydos, Perge, Side, and Sillyon in the course of the first millennium bce, and underwent no significant changes during the Roman imperial period: it was still characterized by the predominance of a few major cities over a majority of smaller settlements (Brandt 1992, 106–107). Some



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of these early urban centers even expanded beyond their initial settlement boundaries in Hellenistic and Roman imperial times. Pamphylia also experienced urban boosts due to Greek migration movements during the Archaic and Classical periods, and the later foundations of new cities like Arsinoe, Attaleia, Ptolemais, and Seleukeia by various Hellenistic rulers (Brandt 1992, 56–59). From its very beginning, the city of Attaleia was destined to be one of the region’s most important settlements, and structures of the old town of Antalya still bear testimony to an original grid plan with spacious insulae of 35 × 70 m (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 195, 319). Whereas most cities of the Pamphylian plain were at the upper end of the settlement hierarchy, the eastern part of the region was characterized by a high density of smaller towns, which had, with few exceptions, already existed when Rome appeared on the scene (Brandt 1992, 44–51, 104–107). Certain cities rose and declined for different reasons during the late Hellenistic and imperial periods, but even the less fortunate cities benefited from the prosperity under the Roman Empire and were still able to participate in the general trends of urban building and development, though not on the level reached by booming cities like Perge or Side. The same observations apply to the cities’ territories, whose extent can be roughly determined through topography and epigraphic evidence. While Perge’s territory might have extended as far as the foothills of the mountains of western Pisidia (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 634), Side dominated the eastern part of the Pamphylian plain, and its territory probably stretched all the way from the eastern bank of the Eurymedon to the Alara Çayı (Nollé 1993b, 13–14). Aspendos and Sillyon shared the lands between the Kestros and Eurymedon rivers. Attaleia might have never had a significant territory, with the minor cities of Tenedos and Magydos and their territories immediately to its west and east, and the Pisidian mountain city of Termessos and Perge dominant farther inland (Adak and Atvur 1999, 59–60; Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 318; Adak 2006, 8–11). Civic territories in mountainous eastern Pamphylia must have been small scale like their cities, though some managed to absorb less prosperous neighbors, as in the case of Karallia and Kibyra Minor (Tomaschitz 1998, 78–84).

Regional and Urban Connections: Roads, Bridges, and Streets The road built by Manius Aquillius to connect Pergamon and Side in the early 120s bce is perhaps the earliest evidence for Roman exercise of power in Pamphylia (Brandt 1992, 135– 137; Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 244–282; Adak and Wilson 2012, 2). Military strategy also stood behind the construction of a road across the Taurus mountains by P. Servilius Vatia, and later the establishment of the Via Sebaste under Augustus. Because the most important mountain passes from the Pisidian uplands led down to the far west of Pamphylia, Perge and, once it was founded, Attaleia were key junctions in the regional road network. A narrow cliff-cut coastal road was the main link between Lycia and Pamphylia, though the Claudian stadiasmos inscription found at Patara in Lycia (see Chapter 24) documents a road between Lycian Trebenna and Attaleia, where the imperial procurator M. Arruntius Aquila was in charge of road building only a few years later (Adak and Wilson 2012, 2–3). A well-developed road went from Attaleia via Perge and Side to Cilicia, while a series of roads led up the river valleys deep into mountaineous Pisidia (Figure 25.1). The Roman provincial administration assumed responsibility for the expansion and maintenance of the public road network up until late antiquity, as attested by milestones from all over Pamphylia (Nollé 1993b, 23–25; Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 247–248; Adak and Wilson 2012). Road stations, so-called mansiones or mutationes, were installed to ensure safe and convenient traveling. A rectangular two-storied building with inner courtyard amid the ruins at the southern entrance to Döşeme Boğazı, on a crucial route from western Pisidia to

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Pamphylia, may be interpreted as such an establishment (Mitchell 2020). A beneficiarius, member of a military unit that was responsible for the safety on public roads, is attested in a second-century inscription from a small ancient settlement near Soğukpınar, on the inland route to Karallia (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 644). In recent years, surveys have traced a multiplicity of remains of partially paved roads and street alignments, highlighting the infrastructure of the Pamphylian plain and its mountaineous fringes (Adak and Wilson 2012, 4–6). Especially in those mountains, the construction of bridges allowed fast, safe travel between settlements. At the middle reaches of the Melas River, for example, the small town of Kotenna had a bridge built in the second century ce to connect it with its neighbor Erymna (Adak 2018). At the navigable lower course of that river, however, a ferry allowed passage between the banks, and a certain Toues of Laertes was even honored in an imperial period inscription for ransoming his fellow citizens from the ferry charges levied there by Side (Nollé 1993b, no. TEp 5). The lower reaches of the Kestros and Eurymedon were navigable as well, and the latter could be crossed via a bridge near Aspendos (Kessener and Piras 1998). Large streets were the lifelines of the major cities of Pamphylia, connecting public places and directing the movements of persons and goods. During the Roman imperial period, they were embellished with grand colonnades on either side, providing access to adjacent rows of shops (Burns 2017). These architectural and spatial accents could be used to communicate civic structure, but it remains unclear whether Pamphylian cities played an active role in developing these “colonnaded streets,” as they appear there in the second century ce at earliest. The north–south street in Perge, for example, was only remodeled under Hadrian (Figure 25.3; Heinzelmann 2003; Özdizbay 2012, 256–265). Its repeatedly bending course may have followed the lines of a preexisting street, adapting to earlier structures such as the Augustan agora. It was part of an extensive (and expensive) construction program, including buildings and monuments like the nymphaeum at its northern end and the southern gate. During the Antonine period the street was extended about 600 m south, right through the forecourt of the southern gate. The east–west main street was also eventually redesigned as a colonnaded street, changing direction to provide access to the Neronian “Palaestra of Cornutus” (Figure 25.3; Özdizbay 2012, 266–268). Side’s monumental colonnaded streets probably also dated to the second century ce (Figure 25.2; Mansel 1963, 17–24); a smaller example in Syedra (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 867) has not yet been thoroughly studied.

Regional Traits and Characteristics Various factors (including its timely incorporation into the Roman Empire) facilitated the economic and social development of Pamphylia under Rome, especially the agricultural and mercantile potential arising from its geographic position, linking the regions of inner Anatolia with the trading routes of the eastern Mediterranean. Italian merchants (negotiatores) settled in the region as early as the 70s bce, attesting to a comparatively large number of Roman ­citizens in Pamphylia. Additionally, the establishment of Roman veteran colonies in Pisidia and Galatia under Augustus formed a breeding ground for the emergence of wealthy and influential Roman families with economic and social ties across the three regions (Halfmann 2007). For example, the colony of Pisidian Antioch boasted (after Pergamon) the second highest number of senatorial families of Asia Minor during the imperial period, its first senator appearing as early as the reign of Tiberius. The gens Calpurnia of Pamphylian Attaleia, with branches at Ancyra in Galatia and Pisidian Antioch, might have had senators soon after. They were gradually joined by other Pamphylian families, like the Pergean Plancii or the Curtii of Aspendos. Families of local origin were not prevented from entering the highest circles of the imperial elite, either. A member of the Iulii Cornuti from Perge, who like other families had been granted Roman citizenship in an earlier phase of Roman



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occupation, was admitted to the Senate under Domitian. The prosperity of all these prestigious families was based on extensive land holdings in the fertile upland plains of Galatia and Pisidia, and their members especially put their mark on the major Pamphylian cities during the Roman imperial period, outshining the many benefactions of local and regional elites (Özdizbay 2012, 275–291; 2020). Just as Roman social elements pervaded Pamphylian society early on, Roman traits pervaded Pamphylian material culture. The region shows the interaction between Greek and Roman building traditions, resulting in new building designs and plans, as well as the adoption of genuinely Roman and Italian architecture and building types. Some of these, like the podium temple next to the theater of Side (Figure 25.2), appear particularly early in Pamphylia. Other buildings are unique in all of Asia Minor, such as the circular monumental tomb at Attaleia, and the semicircular temple near the harbor of Side shows an eagerness to experiment with architectural design (Figure 25.2). On the other hand, Pamphylia took a more conservative approach toward Roman building techniques and materials: traditions of Hellenistic building persisted (Waelkens 1987, 98–99), though brick and opus caementicium were occasionally used (Farrington 1995, 90–92).

Architecture and the Built Environment of Settlements Few aspects of material culture can provide more valuable and complex information on the formation and development of ancient civilizations than the physical evidence of their built environment. The organization of space and its architectural frame reflected change – or the lack of it – within the social, political, and economic structure of societies. Buildings, monuments, architectural features, and their arrangement in urban space therefore paint a diverse picture of Pamphylia, especially for the times of intense interaction with Greek and Roman culture.

Fortifications: Walls and Gates In the early stages of sedentism, the comparatively secure plateaus and hills that occasionally protrude from the Pamphylian plain were the first targets of human occupation. The defensive capabilities of these settlements were further strengthened by the construction and extension of fortification walls during the Classical and Hellenistic periods, as at Aspendos, Korakesion, Perge, and Sillyon, or built in the first place at less advantageous locations like Attaleia and Side (McNicoll 1997, 118–156). Due to frequent military conflicts between individual Pamphylian cities, as well as their confrontations or allegiances with different foreign powers, these measures were necessary until well into the Hellenistic period (Nollé 1993a, 301–307). Recent research, however, challenges the previously established chronology of some city walls, or at least of parts of them. Observations of the lower city wall of Perge suggest that it had not been erected before late Hellenistic or even early imperial times (Figure 25.3; Martini and Eschbach 2017, 512–514). Preliminary results from recent excavations at Side also show that the east gate of the city had not been built before the early imperial period (Figure 25.2; Piesker 2017, 157; Lohner-Urban 2019). Although the establishment of the “Roman Peace” under Augustus and the ultimate incorporation of Pamphylia into the Roman Empire had actually made the construction of city walls obsolete, they were apparently still considered essential on a more abstract level. During the Roman imperial period, the fortifications of Perge and Side were accordingly transformed from defense systems into platforms for the self-representation of those cities and their elite citizens. Best known is the Hadrianic upgrade of the South Gate of Perge, where statues of the mythical founders of the city, of family members of the benefactress Plancia Magna, and of various deities decorated the numerous niches of the inner courtyard (Figure 25.3). The program was completed with a monumental

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Figure 25.3  Plan of the city of Perge, by John Wallrodt.



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tripartite arch just within the South Gate, featuring further statues of deities and of the imperial family, and financed by the same Plancia Magna (Figure 25.3; Şahin 1999, nos. 86–109; Özdizbay 2012, 241–247). This may have been done in anticipation of an imperial visit, as was also possible for an arch honoring Hadrian in Attaleia, hypothetically credited to Iulia Sancta, who was responsible for the roughly contemporaneous building or restoration of a section of the city wall and gate (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 322–323). In Side in late Severan times, the inner courtyard of the Main Gate was fitted with a splendid marble facade with niches for statues, which may have been a tardy reaction to the monumentalization of Perge’s South Gate (Figure 25.2; Gliwitzky 2010, 124–131). The construction and restoration of fortification systems in Pamphylia is otherwise mainly dated to the turbulent times of the third century and later (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 232–243; Piesker 2017).

Public Spaces: Agorai and Macella As in Hellenistic and previous times, spacious public squares or agorai served as focal points of social and economic life in Roman Pamphylia. Against this background, it is hardly remarkable that preexisting complexes continued in use during the imperial period, though some were changed in spatial organization and/or decoration. On the settlement hill of Aspendos, for example, a roughly rectangular square had been defined as early as the second century bce by the erection of a double-aisled multistory stoa on either long side (Figure 25.4; Lauter 1970; Sielhorst 2015, 289–290). While the back of the western stoa simply featured a row of shops, its more pretentious eastern counterpart can be associated with a distinctive group of Hellenistic market buildings, characterized by substructures built against hillsides. This reflection of the general Hellenistic development toward architecturally framed, self-containing public squares (Sielhorst 2015) was taken

Figure 25.4  Plan of the city of Aspendos, by John Wallrodt.

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further in Roman times, when the agora was closed at its northern front by the construction of a (probably Antonine) nymphaeum (Figure 25.4). Later, perhaps in the third century ce, a large, three-naved basilica was erected, partially on the substructure of the eastern stoa, but its length (over 137 m) clearly exceeded its predecessor. Probably for symmetry, the western aisle of the stoa was preserved and remained visible as cover for the lower section of the basilica. With the exception of a basilical edifice in Syedra (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 867), this distinctive type of Roman building is attested nowhere else in Pamphylia until Christian times. A comparatively small and compact agora, also partially erected on preexisting structures, was the nucleus of Lyrbe/Seleukeia (Figure 25.5; Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 695). Enclosed by Doric porticoes on all sides, its centrality within the city landscape is underlined by several entrances and doorways that made it accessible from all directions. While the general layout of the agora dates to the late Hellenistic period, modifications were made intermittently during Roman times. Shopping units in the rear of the two-storied eastern stoa, an adjacent bouleuterion in the southeastern corner, an exedra, and a presumed library (the latter two with mosaics from the Roman imperial period) reflect the multifunctionality of such public squares. Agorai can also be traced in a fair number of smaller towns and settlements, indicated by finds of honorary monuments, typical architectural elements, or anomalies within the pattern of the ruins (e.g., Karallia, Kolybrassos, Laertes, Magydos), or by epigraphical references, as at Kasai (Brandt 1992, 106). The expansion of large cities beyond their initial settlement boundaries during the Hellenistic and Roman imperial periods often entailed the establishment of more than one agora to manage the increasing diversity and complexity of social and economic needs. At

Figure 25.5  Plan of the city of Lyrbe/Seleukeia, by John Wallrodt.



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Perge, one of the several peristyle buildings on the acropolis likely marks the Hellenistic agora, whereas the later Augustan Sebaste Agora (if not identical with one of these complexes) might have been situated in the lower city (Özdizbay 2012, 272–274; Martini and Eschbach 2017, 516). Sometimes the entries to cities were made into public squares in Roman times: for example, the forecourt of the South Gate of Perge was gradually enclosed by buildings and monuments constructed from the Flavian period onward (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 368–369; Gliwitzky 2010, 85–86). So far, only one genuine agora has been archaeologically identified at Side. This Roman imperial complex, with outer dimensions of 90.8 × 94 m, was framed by porticoes on all four sides, some featuring rows of shops in the back (Figure 25.2; Mansel 1963, 97–107). Its slightly off-center round temple dedicated to Tyche, whose remains can be dated to the second century ce, showed that the square served sacred as well as mercantile purposes. With the enormous theater of the city towering behind the southwest portico, the Agora was mainly accessible through a large propylon on the northwestern side, connecting to the colonnaded street that ran down from the city’s Main Gate. On the opposite side, another, much shorter street led to the controversial Building M complex featuring a large front court (Figure 25.2), which will be discussed below among gymnasia. The almost square complex immediately to the east of the South Gate of Perge looks much like the Sidetan Agora, so the circular building in its center has often been associated with cultic activities. A second-century inscription, however, specifies the Perge building with its surrounding porticoes and adjacent shops as a macellum (Figure 25.3; Şahin 1999, no. 193; Özdizbay 2012, 249–252). This was the Roman term for a rectangular, self-contained market square with central round building(s), dedicated to the sale of meat, fish, or fine foods. While macella enjoyed great popularity in Italy and the western provinces, where they had evolved under the influence of Hellenistic commercial architecture from the late Republican period, there are few clear examples attested for Asia Minor, with occasional differences in layout and use from western examples (Richard 2014). The square at Perge is no exception, representing a multifunctional agora similar to the one at Side rather than a macellum in the strict western sense (Richard 2014, 269–270). Another macellum is known from an inscription, rather than archaeologically, in the eastern Pamphylian city of Korakesion. It, like other such complexes, was erected by local benefactors, in this case a certain Ingamis (Richard 2014, 259).

Public and Administrative Buildings The pre-Hellenistic Greek migrations to Pamphylia and the establishment of genuinely Greek settlements – such as Idyros, Lyrnessos, Olbia, Tenedos, and Thebe on the northwestern coast of the Lycian peninsula – led to early and profound contacts between the indigenous populations and the political institutions of their new “compatriots.” The organization into an assembly of citizens (ekklesia, demos) and council (boule) is evident in some Pamphylian cities as early as the Classical period and had considerable long-term effects on autochthonous Pamphylia (Adak 2006; Martini and Eschbach 2017, 505). During the imperial period, demos and boule remained the decisive political structures of the cities. At the same time, a wide range of public offices organized civic life. In Pamphylian cities, an assembly of elders (gerousia) assumed official responsibility as well (Bauer 2014). While gymnasia usually served as their meeting places, there were often other buildings or rooms at their disposal, for example, a banquet hall (deipnisterion) for the “supreme” gerousia of Side (Bauer 2014, 244–259). Remains of a large building on the north–south colonnaded street of Perge might be identified as an assembly hall for the local council of elders (Bauer 2014, 259–284).

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We are better informed about the archaeological remains for the meeting places of city councils, however. The boule generally met in roofed buildings with tiers of seating for the councilors. While the traditional rectangular arrangement of the seating rows still occasionally appeared in later bouleuteria, semicircular caveas based on theatrical architecture became increasingly fashionable during the Hellenistic period (Isler 2017 I, 705–707). Distinguishing among bouleuteria, small theaters, and Roman-style odea is difficult, especially when the building is poorly preserved or inadequately documented. Only the lack of a stage and its equipment allows for a clear identification of a bouleuterion, though in many cases one building may have served as both bouleuterion and odeon, since many cities of Roman Asia Minor did not bother to build both. In Pamphylia, inscriptions mention bouleuteria in Karallia (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 604) and Perge (Özdizbay 2012, 268–271), though the buildings have not yet been found. The bouleuterion in the agora of Lyrbe/Seleukeia mentioned above, a roofed building with semicircular cavea, was identified due to its location and lack of a stage front (Isler 2017 II, 694–695). A small building with straight tiers for seating at Laertes could be a bouleuterion as well (Isler 2017 II, 425), though buildings at Sillyon (Isler 2017 II, 711–712) and Syedra (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 867) more closely match the typology of odea, or, as in Kolybrassos, do not allow a decisive classification at all (Isler 2017 II, 402–403). Aspendos possessed a small bouleuterion or odeon, which may have incorporated a preceding Hellenistic building of unclear function, north of its agora (Figure 25.4; Isler 2017 II, 115).

Spectacle Buildings: Theaters and Stadia In pre-Roman Asia Minor, elements of Greek cultural life were adopted and materialized in a variety of architectural facilities, including not only the bouleuteria already mentioned, but also perhaps the most iconic building of Greek architecture: the theater. While in many cities of Asia Minor Hellenistic theaters continued to be used and remodeled according to Roman period tastes (Isler 2017 I, 658), theaters in Pamphylia were mainly new constructions of the imperial period. Only at Sillyon did the Hellenistic building continue to be used, while the odeon was constructed right beside it (Isler 2017 II, 711–712). Roman odea were little more than smaller, roofed versions of Roman-style theaters, and served similar purposes (Isler 2017 I, 703–754). Apart from drama and occasional popular assemblies, theaters were also locations for nonathletic competitions, as is shown by topos inscriptions for agonothetai, presiding officials of festivals, in the theater of Side (Nollé 1993b, 85, 2001, no. 143), while athletic contests and horse and chariot racing took place in stadia. Such contests were usually held as part of religious festivals, the number of which increased significantly in Asia Minor during the Roman imperial period and eventually became a major factor in city rivalries. Pamphylia is no exception in this regard, since the prestige of founding such festivals made them highly popular with the cities’ elites (Nollé 1993b, 84–88; Brandt and Kolb 2005, 109–113). The existence of spectacle buildings or temporary venues in a city can sometimes be deduced from inscriptions and coins, as in Korakesion or Laertes (Brandt 1992, 104–105). Based on their architectural layout, the theater of Side (the largest in Pamphylia, with a maximum width of approximately 119 m) and the slightly smaller theater of Perge are members of a typological group only found in Asia Minor (Isler 2017 I, 590–616). This building type evolved through the amalgamation of construction elements from Greek and Roman theaters, taking characteristics from both. One of the most significant was the attachment of Roman-style multistoried aediculated facades to the stage buildings. From the mid-second century onward, the base zones of these facades were often decorated with narrative friezes, which frequently depicted important civic events or local myths. The reliefs of the Pergean



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theater (Figure 25.3), for example, boasted mythological scenes as well as the city’s Tyche making a sacrifice (Özdizbay 2012, 252–255). This theater also blurred the key distinction between Greek and Roman theaters, as like Greek theaters its cavea was greater than a semicircle and cut from the hillside, while the upper tiers were built on Roman-style vaults. The mid-second century Sidetan theater was not on a hillside but built entirely on vaults, though its cavea too was greater than a semicircle (Figure 25.2). Apart from these hybrids, theaters of purely Roman type were occasionally built in Asia Minor (Isler 2017 I, 627–637). That at Aspendos is one of the best preserved due to its reuse in Seljuk times (Figure 25.4). According to inscriptions, it was erected during the 160s ce in fulfillment of the last will of A. Curtius Crispinus. Excavations at Attaleia have also provided sparse evidence for the city’s theater (Isler 2017 II, 135). Stadia, like theaters, profited from Roman architectural innovations such as seating supported on vaulted substructures, which facilitated construction and resulted in even more monumental and complex buildings (Welch 1998, 120). Theaters and stadia were frequently close to one another, as at Perge (Figure 25.3; Özdizbay 2012, 255–256). Similar, though poorly researched, stadia can be found at Aspendos (Figure 25.4) and Sillyon. There are no remains of a stadium known at Side, but horse and chariot races could have taken place outside the city wall, as depicted on the base of an agonistic altar from the city (Nollé 1993b, 9, 85). While the Roman amphitheater as a building type did not prevail in Asia Minor, theaters and stadia were often modified to accommodate gladiatorial games and wild beast shows, which were not unpopular in the Roman East as is sometimes assumed, but were regular parts of imperial cult festivals (Welch 1998, 121–131). Gladiatorial events are therefore well attested for the major Pamphylian cities like Attaleia, Perge, and Side (Nollé 1993b, no. TEp 1; Welch 1998; Şahin 1999, no. 203; Nollé 2001, nos. 111–112, 138). The construction of a parapet around the orchestra of the theater in Side might indicate that it functioned as the venue for such spectacles, at least during the late imperial period (Mansel 1963, 138). Comparable finds are known from the theater at Perge as well (Özdizbay 2012, 253–254), and in the stadium, spectators were possibly protected from wild animals by the installation of security nets. Later, the stadium at Perge and that in Aspendos had an amphitheater built into it (Welch 1998, 122 with n. 9, 125).

Buildings of Culture and Pleasure: Gymnasia and Baths As a central institution of the Greek polis, gymnasia had already been part of cultural life and the urban landscapes of pre-Roman Asia Minor (Bauer 2014). They were also fundamental to the aforementioned agonistic culture of the Roman period as venues for physical training of different age groups of citizens. In Pamphylia, gymnasia are attested or at least likely in Aspendos, Attaleia, Kolybrassos, Syedra, and Sillyon (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004). One of the peristyle complexes on the acropolis of Perge might be its Hellenistic gymnasium, with restorations and modifications showing continued use in Roman times (Martini and Eschbach 2017, 517). Another peristyle complex in the western section of the east–west colonnaded street in Perge can be identified as one of the city’s gymnasia, though it is often referred to as the Palaestra of Cornutus, from the benefactor who had financed either its construction or restoration (Figure 25.3; Özdizbay 2012, 219–223). One of the most remarkable architectural inventions of Roman Asia Minor was the so-called bath-gymnasium complex, combining the Greek gymnasium and its palaestra (wrestling ground) with the Roman bath, resulting in an increasingly recreational complex (Yegül 2010, 155–158). Nonetheless, gymnasia were still considered places of education and public meeting. The establishment of a Mouseion, or precinct of the Muses and their arts, in one of at least

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three gymnasia at Perge, as well as another documented at Side, underlines this aspect (Brandt and Kolb 2005, 112–113). The epigraphic record of Side attests to at least one gymnasium as well as the Mouseion (Nollé 2001, nos. 75, 103). Because of its structural resemblance to other monumental bathgymnasium complexes in Asia Minor, Side’s “Building M,” a spacious courtyard with a so-called Kaisersaal at its end, was at first considered a gymnasium by its excavator, Mansel (1963, 109–121), but was then named a “Staatsagora” due to its apparent lack of decisive building elements (Figure 25.2; Nollé 2001, 397 with n. 84). The recent discovery of baths on the southern side of the complex, however, allowed reconsideration (Alanyalı 2015, 85–86; 2018). Based on the example at Perge, this permits a possible identification of the “Kaisersaal” as Side’s Mouseion (Nollé 2001, 397), as it featured a formidable collection of masterpieces of Classical Greek sculpture and adjacent library rooms. In view of the prevalence of bath-gymnasium complexes in Asia Minor, it is likely that some buildings that have been discovered could have been either autonomous baths or parts of bath-gymnasia (Yegül 2010, 157). Their resounding success during imperial times is hardly conceivable without the Romans’ advanced technology of hydraulic and heating systems. Baths of the “row-type” with varying, asymmetrical layouts are typical for Pamphylia (Farrington 1987, 52–53; Yegül 2010, 173–176; Özdizbay 2012, 224 with n. 173). Restricted to eastern Pamphylia (Lyrbe/Seleukeia, Syedra) and neighboring Cilicia is a type of bath with a central rectangular gallery (Figure 25.5; Farrington 1987, 54–58; Yegül 2010, 178). These regionally characteristic plans seem to reflect slightly different habits in bathing culture (Farrington 1995). In Roman Pamphylia, baths are not only to be found in the large centers like Aspendos (Figure 25.4), Perge (Figure 25.3), Side (Figure 25.2), or Sillyon, but also in minor cities (Hamaxia, Kibyra Minor, Laertes, Lyrbe/Seleukeia [Figure 25.5], Syedra) and rural settlements like Lyrboton Kome (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004; Hild 2005). The centrality of bathing culture within everyday life in Roman Pamphylia is emphasized by the consistent maintenance of old and occasional construction of new bath buildings up until late antiquity. Major cities generally boasted more than one large and splendidly furnished bath building. Like other public spaces, they offered a platform for self-representation not only to members of the local upper class but also to foreigners, reflecting the complex network of elites in Roman Asia Minor. One example is Claudius Piso, a Roman citizen from Pisidian Sagalassos, who had a whole statue gallery put up for display in the southern baths of Perge around the middle of the second century ce (Figure 25.3; Wood 2017).

Water Structures: Fountains and Aqueducts The impact of Roman material culture in Asia Minor is especially obvious in the eager adoption of water-related buildings, not only in the bath complexes detailed above but also in the lavishly decorated fountains that became characteristic for the urban landscapes of major cities in Pamphylia. Roman engineering and enhanced hydraulic technology, in combination with general economic prosperity, not only allowed the ordinary use of water but also enabled its manifold display as an end in itself. The cities of the Pamphylian plain were especially keen to show off their abundance of water (Vandeput 2017). In Side and especially Perge, the placement of fountain buildings at nodes within the urban grid, such as gates and the crossing points or ends of colonnaded streets, deliberately accented and enhanced the main urban spaces (Martini 2015, 283). For example, a nymphaeum, or grand fountain house, was erected at the northern end of the north–south colonnaded street of Perge in Hadrianic times, its facade decorated with the statue of a reclining river god, perhaps the nearby Kestros (Figure 25.3; Heinzelmann 2003,



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203). From there, a narrow channel took the water cascading down the colonnaded street, which must have made a strong impression on passersby; recent excavations have revealed further channels in the east–west colonnaded street as well. In Side, similar water channels ran along colonnaded streets B and C (Vandeput 2017, 143–145), but most striking is the deliberate use of the mirroring effects of water in the ostentatious Severan nymphaeum just outside the main gate of the city, where inscriptions were engraved in mirror writing to be read in the water’s surface (Figure 25.2). This threestoried fountain was one of the largest in all of Asia Minor, and featured exuberant decorations and relief panels showing both general mythological scenes and local cult traditions, as when Athena, the main goddess of Side, offers a sacrifice at the urban epibaterios festival (Nollé 1993b, 82–83). This is the earliest known fountain building of Side, though a number of new constructions were added in post-Severan times (Vandeput 2017, 144–146). Perge’s fountains begin earlier, although none date before the second century ce. The aforementioned Hadrianic nymphaeum featured two statues of Hadrian and sculptures of different deities and private citizens, as well as the centrally positioned river god. Several additional fountains were erected in the course of the second and third centuries ce, especially during the Severan period (Figure 25.3; Martini 2015, 279–282). According to its building inscriptions, the nymphaeum in front of the south baths was erected by Aurelia Paulina, a priestess of Artemis, and dedicated to the Severans (Şahin 1999, nos. 195–196; Martini 2015, 281). Only a few years ago, another fountain was discovered at the west end of Perge’s east–west colonnaded street, its semicircular facade exhibiting, among other statues, one of Caracalla (Figure 25.3; Kara and Demirel 2015). In addition to the numerous finds from Perge and Side, monumental fountains are attested for Sillyon (Farrington 1995, 172) and Aspendos, where the facade of a great nymphaeum confined the northern end of the agora (Figure 25.4; Richard 2012, 194–195). This concentration of monumental fountains in Pamphylia (and neighboring Pisidia) does not just show the regional abundance of water but may have also played a role in city rivalry, as the fountain facades were particularly suited for the expression of urban greatness and the propagation of political messages through sculptural programs (Nollé 1993b, 82–83; Vandeput 2017, 144, 150). The immense demand for water in large cities like Aspendos, Perge, and Side was met by the construction of miles upon miles of aqueducts during the Roman imperial period (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 198–199). Water had to be efficiently brought to the cities via complex distribution systems, not only for the operation of gymnasia, baths, fountains, and public latrines (the latter attested at both Perge and the Roman agora of Side: Mansel 1963, 99–100; Kara and Demirel 2016) but also for the standard demands of household consumption. Water towers and reservoirs are consequently to be found in Aspendos, Perge, and Side at topographically reasonable locations, with networks of terracotta and lead pipelines leading off for further distribution. The construction and upkeep of facilities for urban water supply cost fortunes. For the provision of fresh water for the inhabitants of Aspendos, most likely the aqueduct itself (Figure 25.4), a certain Ti. Claudius Erymneus spent an astounding 2 million denarii, an amount that more or less matches the entire donation of the famous Lycian benefactor Opramoas of Rhodiapolis (Brandt and Kolb 2005, 107). Whereas fountains could be erected by local donors at lower cost, the financing and upkeep of entire water supply systems and aqueducts by private individuals remained exceptional and was often left to the provincial government and/or the emperor (Richard 2012, 52; Schuler 2014). Apart from the initial cost, the maintenance and operation of water-related buildings apparently also challenged the administrative capacities of some cities. The Sidetans, for instance, saw the need to appoint a curator for that specific purpose (Nollé 1993b, no. TEp 1).

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Smaller towns did not necessarily share in this wealth of water. At some minor sites, such as the settlement of Gölcük Ören (ancient Orokenda or Sennea) or Kibyra Minor, aqueducts were apparently not constructed earlier than late antiquity, in tandem with the erection of late bath buildings. At Syedra, massive cisterns retained water from a cave spring (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 867). At places such as Erymna or Lyrboton Kome, cisterns continued to supply the town’s water, while the remains of water systems in the periphery of the port town Magydos have mostly perished over the last decades (Adak and Atvur 1999, 57–58).

Religion: Temples, Shrines, and Sanctuaries Archaeological finds, literary sources, coins, and inscriptions attest to a vast number of deities worshipped in Roman Pamphylia, reflecting its indigenous roots and external influences, mainly Graeco-Roman but also Egyptian (MacKay 1990; Mitford 1990; Brandt and Kolb 2005, 109–117). Jewish and early Christian communities are well attested for the region, too (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 139–141). The cult of some local deities persisted from prehistoric times up until well into the imperial period, when many were venerated under the names of corresponding members of the Graeco-Roman pantheon. Widely connected to fertility and the blessings of nature, the manifold manifestations of the Anatolian mother goddess played a significant role throughout Asia Minor from the earliest times. Her sanctuaries and cult places were often located at sites of specific natural phenomena such as caves or springs, and were still sought out by worshipers in Roman times. In the caves of Karain on the western edge of Pamphylia, for example, a mystery cult for Meter Oreia was practiced during the imperial period (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 602), and Meter Thea was venerated in a cave at the site of Hurma within the territory of ancient Tenedos in western Pamphylia (Adak 2006, 10). The Gedifi grotto near ancient Kasai, in the mountainous region of eastern Pamphylia, even persisted as a Christian cult place (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 544). At Perge, numerous aquiferous caves in the flanks of the acropolis were sites of cult, indicated by terraces and niches for votive offerings, most likely for the “Mistress of Perge,” as the local mother goddess is called in a Graeco-Pamphylian inscription of probably Classical date (Martini 2019); her Greek interpretation as Artemis is first attested in the fourth century bce, and she was depicted both in the tradition of other Anatolian goddesses like the Artemis of Ephesos, and in the style of Greek Artemis during the Hellenistic and Roman imperial periods. Spread throughout the eastern Mediterranean by Pamphylian traders and mercenaries, mainly during the Hellenistic period, this cult eventually became one of the most renowned of southern Asia Minor (MacKay 1990). Nonetheless, the location of the main sanctuary has been debated. While some scholars point to Strabo, Geography 14.4.2, which states that the sanctuary was situated outside the city, Martini argued that Perge’s acropolis was the most likely location (Martini and Eschbach 2017, 516–519). The acropolis of Perge was excavated extensively around the turn of the millennium, offering a rare opportunity to assess the spatial and architectural development of sacred space in Pamphylia. At least three sanctuaries came to light: one featured a naiskos and two adjoining banquet rooms of the fifth century bce, and another an antae temple of the late fourth century, but they were still in use during Roman times with only minor restorations and modifications. One of these sanctuaries was likely that of Artemis Pergaia, and another possibly dedicated to the cult of Zeus Machaonios, who according to epigraphic evidence was worshipped on the acropolis. Of course, beyond these large sanctuaries, there were many other cults in Roman Perge (Özdizbay 2012, 260–261; Kara and Demirel 2016, 338–341). Inscriptions and coins attest to a fair number of cults practiced in Roman Side as well (Nollé 1993b, 105–125; Brandt and Kolb 2005, 116–117). Unlike Perge, Side has remains



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of several large temples from the Roman period, including two monumental peripteral ­temples on the southern end of the low promontory on which the settlement had developed; though inscriptions are lacking, there is scarcely an alternative to their proposed dedication to Athena and Apollo, the main deities of Side (Figure 25.2; Mansel 1963, 77–86). Widely visible to seafarers sailing along the gulf of Pamphylia, both temples were first erected during the second century ce after any predecessors had been completely removed, and reflect longestablished traditions of Graeco-Roman temple building in Asia Minor (Pohl 2002). Two other Sidetan temples are far more innovative in plan and design. A pseudoperipteral podium temple next to the theater dates to the late Hellenistic or early imperial period, one of the earliest examples of this distinctively Roman building type in the eastern Mediterranean (Figure 25.2; Piesker 2015). Its deity, however, is uncertain, with Dionysos, Nemesis, and the Roman emperors among those proposed (Mansel 1963, 90–94; Nollé 1993b, 117, 121; Alanyalı 2015, 85). The cult is also unidentified for a possibly late Antonine sanctuary east of the temples for Athena and Apollo (Figure 25.2; Mansel 1963, 86–90). This curious semicircular shrine with arcuated pediment is exceptional in Roman Asia Minor (Gliwitzky 2010, 174–184), though the influence of Syrian architecture is evident (Pohl 2002). As mentioned above, the agora of Side featured a round temple whose dedication to Tyche is confirmed by local coins, which showed the seated statue of the goddess inside (Mansel 1963, 94–95, 102–107). Dice oracles enjoyed great popularity in Pamphylia and neighboring regions during the imperial period, representing a vivid aspect of religious practice in Roman Asia Minor (Nollé 2007). The inhabitants of smaller cities and remote hinterland settlements as well as those of the big cities participated in diverse cults. Unfortunately we can rarely contextualize those known from nonmaterial evidence, though remains of temples can be traced in a fair number of sites, such as Erymna, Kolybrassos, Laertes, Lyrbe/Seleukeia, Syedra and the settlement of Taşahır (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004; Giobbe 2013). An exception is a recent discovery at Lyrboton Kome in the territory of Perge: three altars were found next to a large structure, and one of the votive inscriptions names Zeus Drymon (Oktan 2017). The worship of the Roman emperors was of major importance throughout the imperial period, and the major cities of Asia Minor contended for the prestigious right of hosting the official provincial cult, the neokoria. This became one of the most contentious points between rival cities like Perge and Side: the latter boasted the most neokoriai in the whole empire, a total of six by the end of the third century ce (Burrell 2004, 175–190). The only other Pamphylian city known to be neokoros is Aspendos, but the imperial cult was practiced not just in those large cities but also in minor settlements like Karallia, Kasai, Kolybrassos, Kotenna, and Laertes (Brandt and Kolb 2005, 114).

Houses and Domestic Architecture While early settlements on the Pamphylian plain were mainly on hills, population growth gave rise to new cities on the plain, with more or less regular grid plans, as at Perge and Side (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 194–196). Third century inscriptions from Side document the zoning of urban quarters named for distinctive monuments, and some can therefore be located (Nollé 1993b, 8–9). The exploration and study of living space in Roman Pamphylia has been neglected in favor of public spaces and monumental architecture, as often elsewhere. Nonetheless, archaeological evidence for domestic environments is extensive (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 199– 203). This includes comparatively remote and inaccessible sites in eastern Pamphylia, such as Hamaxia, Laertes, Lyrbe/Seleukeia, and Syedra, where residential buildings have survived in vast numbers, albeit mostly from late antiquity and Byzantine times. Research at Lyrboton

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Kome has shown that the houses of those periods were often built on Roman foundations (Çevik 1996/1997, 81). Luxurious peristyle houses grew in popularity during the Hellenistic period and quickly became the urban residences of choice for the rich and influential across the Mediterranean. Two such domiciles were uncovered in Side, close to the Roman agora (Figure 25.2; Mansel 1963, 157–162). They were built in the late Hellenistic period and with several phases of restoration and modification were continuously occupied until Byzantine times. Similarly, houses of the Classical period on the acropolis of Perge were occupied for almost a thousand years (Martini and Eschbach 2017, 519), while peristyle houses like those at Side were excavated in the east part of its lower city (Figure 25.3; Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 367–368).

Necropoleis and Burial Grounds Complementary to spaces for the living within the cities were those outside, for the dead. Extensive cemeteries stood in the periphery of the settlements of Roman Asia Minor, generally incorporating varied funeral monuments such as temple tombs, burial houses, arcosolium tombs, freestanding sarcophagi, ossuaries, or funerary stelai. In many cases, tomb chambers were carved into hillsides and cut into bedrock in the immediate vicinity of settlements. In Pamphylia, necropoleis appear around urban centers (Aspendos, Attaleia, Perge, Side, Sillyon), smaller cities (Hamaxia, Karallia, Kibyra Minor, Kolybrassos, Lyrbe/Seleukeia, Syedra), and rural settlements (Lyrboton Kome) (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 203–206). Shape, size, quality, and location of the funeral monuments reflect the stratification and composition of society as well as regional traits and traditions of mortuary practice and funerary architecture. The elite of society were occasionally granted distinctive and widely visible locations for their monumental tombs, and, in contrast to urban Rome and large parts of the empire, in Asia Minor these could even be within the city boundaries (Cormack 2004, 37–49). While no specific case is attested for Pamphylia, the tomb of the civic benefactress Plancia Magna, which was recently in course of excavation, was built in an outstanding position next to the Antonine extension of the north–south colonnaded street of Perge (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 371; Kızıltaş and Demirelli 2019). In Attaleia, a monumental tomb of unique design (“Hıdırlık Kulesi”) towers right above the harbor entrance (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 322). With its cube-shaped base and cylindrical superstructure, this monument derives from upscale funerary architecture of late Republican and early imperial Italy, and reliefs of fasces on either side of the entrance indicate that one of the family was of consular rank. These signs of affiliation with the imperial nobility and close allegiance to Rome have prompted two suggestions for the possible owner: M. Calpurnius Rufus, member of one of the leading families of Attaleia, senator and legatus Augusti pro praetore during the reign of Claudius; and M. Petronius Umbrinus, acting governor of Cilicia before his consulship in 81 ce. In Pamphylia and its neighboring regions, so-called temple tombs (heroa) were highly popular for elite citizens (Cormack 2004). One such was the centerpiece of an impressive sepulchral complex from the latter half of the third century ce in the western necropolis of Side (Gliwitzky 2010, 146–157). The wealth and rank of its builder were not only expressed by the complex architectural composition and lavish decoration of the building, but also by its position within an architecturally framed precinct with an enormous front court. Even in the necropoleis of smaller settlements, such as Gölcük Ören or Senir (Cormack 2004, 290–294), temple tombs constituted the upper end of tomb hierarchy. Within their architectural frame often stood elaborately decorated repositories for the bodies or ashes of the deceased.



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Throughout Roman Pamphylia, sarcophagi can be found in vast numbers, though unlike those of neighboring Lycia or Pisidia they exhibit no special regional form, style, or decoration. Most are of imported marble from Attica or Phrygian Dokimeion, which became the main production center for marble sarcophagi in Asia Minor after the middle of the second century ce (Koch 2010). Whether the garland sarcophagi found at Perge and Side were carved at the site of production or in local workshops is still under debate (Waelkens, Baumer, and Demirel 2019). In both cities, and especially in eastern Pamphylia (Hamaxia, Laertes, Syedra) and western Cilicia, stone cinerary urns with garland decorations were found freestanding as well as arranged in grave houses (Korkut 2006, 77–78). On the basis of material and workmanship, these urns form a regional group produced in local workshops from the early first to third century ce (Korkut 2006; Koch 2010, 131–132). Though sarcophagi gained popularity from the second century ce, cinerary urns bear testimony to the persistence of cremation in certain regions (Cormack 2004, 109–110). In many cases, burials were marked by sculpted stelai. From the eastern necropolis of Magydos comes a touching find: the grave of a boy named Valerius, son of two Roman citizens, with a coin of Trajan to ensure his passage into the underworld and date the burial. His body was placed on soil, covered with stones and terracotta tiles, and then encased in a rectangular chamber made of rubble and mortar sealed with a curved lid (Adak and Atvur 1999, 58, 61–62). A small inscribed marble stele was set into a tight recess in the lid, its relief showing the deceased surrounded by cupids and dolphins.

Economy, Trade, and the Exploitation of the Landscape As agriculture was primary in the ancient economy, there were few other regions in Asia Minor that matched, much less surpassed, the economical potential of Pamphylia (Brandt and Kolb 2005, 95–98). Though research has mainly focused on the large urban centers thus far, an increasing number of archaeological sites are shedding light on rural Pamphylia, ranging from larger settlements with urban building features to solitary farmsteads. One of the most important studies of rural settlements is of Lyrboton Kome (Çevik 1996/1997). It had a modest fortification wall surrounding both living and work quarters, and in its southwestern part, multiple-room two-story buildings might have served as residences for the upper class. There were numerous workshops and other facilities, such as presses for olive oil. Though it flourished even more during late antiquity and early Byzantine times, by the archaeological and epigraphical evidence this was already a thriving agricultural village in the imperial period. A priestess of Demeter, Arete, had a two-story tower (re)built in the immediate vicinity of the settlement under Domitian; her father Demetrios and uncle Apollonios had already dedicated an honorary arch to Domitian in nearby Perge in the early 80s ce (Şahin 1999, no. 56). Restoration works were carried out most likely in Hadrianic times by Arete’s grandson Timotheos. According to one of the building inscriptions, the family had owned at least three olive groves in the area (Şahin 1999, no. 77). Tower farms like Arete’s are traceable in vast numbers around the Aegean and in southern Anatolia, and some are known in Pamphylia (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 200–201; Hild 2005). Villas were a form of settlement deeply connected to Roman agricultural exploitation, but they still await systematic research in Asia Minor, though there are a few in Pamphylia. Near modern Uzunkale on the northeastern edge of the Pamphylian plain, several villas might have belonged to the territory of Side, the most impressive having elaborate masonry and a front length of nearly 33 m (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 909–910; Hild 2005, 63). Evidence for large estates, whether imperial or private, is scarce, however (Adak and Wilson 2012,

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4–5), so it is likely that most Pamphylian land was held by peasants, either freehold or as ­tenants (Brandt and Kolb 2005, 96–97). Trade in agricultural produce and other goods, not only from Pamphylia itself but also from inland regions like Pisidia, must have been a major economic factor in the region throughout antiquity (Nollé 1993b, 29–34; Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 155–188; Brandt and Kolb 2005, 99–100). Regional ports played a vital role in trade: at least three Pamphylian cities, Magydos, Perge, and Side, are listed as customs ports in the inscribed Customs Law of Asia of 75 bce. Ancient docks, quays, and storehouses can frequently be traced along the Pamphylian coast. At Magydos, the remains of two impressive piers approximately 340 m and 225 m long are partially visible today (Adak and Atvur 1999, 54–55). Farther inland, navigation on the lower courses of major rivers gave rise to river ports as well. Pamphylian merchants are documented all over the eastern Mediterranean as well as in Rome and Puteoli. The cultivation, processing, and trade in Pamphylian grain, olives, wine, flax, sesame, and a variety of pharmaceutical plants is attested by both archaeological and literary sources. During the third century ce, annonae (grain shipments) to Syria for provisioning Roman troops were requested from Aspendos and Side, reflecting the natural abundance of Pamphylia (Nollé 1993b, 29–30). The impressive substructures of the basilica at Aspendos served primarily for storing cereals (Hellenkemper and Hild 2004, 159). But bad harvests could quickly and deeply damage preindustrial economic systems. While civil officials like the sitonai in Side and the provincial governor normally dealt with grain shortages, help from the emperor was sought in particularly serious crises, like that suffered by the Sidetans under Gallienus (Nollé 2017). Fresh and saltwater fishing also played a major role in the Pamphylian economy, according to literary and numismatic evidence (Nollé 1993b, 31–32). The mountains of eastern Pamphylia were highly valued for their cedar forests, which provided excellent ship timber (Nollé 1993b, 30–31; Tomaschitz 1998, 41; Adak 2018, 212). Lastly, Side was a slavetrading center from at least the first century bce onward (Nollé 2001, nos. P1–P2).

Acknowledgments and Further Reading I am much obliged to Oliver Hülden and Elise Tacconi-Garman for revising drafts of this article and offering valuable remarks. Profound information on Roman Pamphylia is generally provided by the comprehensive publications of Hartwin Brandt (1992), Hansgerd Hellenkemper and Friedrich Hild (2004), Gaetano Arena (2005), Hartwin Brandt and Frank Kolb (2005), and John D. Grainger (2009; see the review by Mustafa Adak in Gephyra 7, 2010, 169–187). More recent finds put some historical developments into perspective, but are published in diverse journal articles and preliminary reports, thus complicating the evaluation of the current state of research.

Biographical Note Matthias C. Pichler (Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität München) has studied Classical Archaeology, Ancient History, and History of Architecture at the universities of Munich and Regensburg. Since 2011, he has been involved in different archaeological field projects in southern Turkey and Greece. He is currently working on his PhD dissertation on the transformation of urban landscapes during the late Hellenistic and Roman imperial periods in the province Lycia et Pamphylia.



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REFERENCES Adak, Mustafa. 2006. “Olbia in Pamphylien. Die epigraphische Evidenz.” Gephyra, 3: 1–28. Adak, Mustafa. 2018. “Die Melas-Brücke bei Kotenna und die Familie des Stanamoas.” Adalya, 21: 211–228. Adak, Mustafa, and Orhan Atvur. 1999. “Epigraphische Mitteilungen aus Antalya II. Die pamphylische Hafenstadt Magydos.” Epigraphica Anatolica, 31: 53–68. Adak, Mustafa, and Mark Wilson. 2012. “Das Vespasiansmonument von Döşeme und die Gründung der Doppelprovinz Lycia et Pamphylia.” Gephyra, 9: 1–40. Alanyalı, Hüseyin Sabri. 2015. “Die Siedlungssituation pamphylischer Städte in römischer Zeit.” In Turm und Tor. Siedlungsstrukturen in Lykien und benachbarten Kulturlandschaften. Akten des Gedenkkolloquiums für Thomas Marksteiner in Wien. November 2012, edited by Barbara Beck-Brandt, Sabine Ladstätter, and Banu Yener-Marksteiner, 81–92. Vienna: Österreichisches Archäologisches Institut Wien. Alanyalı, Hüseyin Sabri. 2018. “Alte Funde – neue Gedanken: Side, sogenanntes Gebäude M.” In Sculpture in Roman Asia Minor. Proceedings of the International Conference at Selçuk, 1st–3rd October 2013, edited by Maria Aurenhammer, 81–88. Vienna: Österreichisches Archäologisches Institut Wien. Arena, Gaetano. 2005. Città di Panfilia e Pisidia sotto il dominio romano. Continuità strutturali e cambiamenti funzionali, 2nd ed. Catania: Edizioni del Prisma. Bauer, Ennio. 2014. Gerusien in den Poleis Kleinasiens in hellenistischer Zeit und der römischen Kaiserzeit. Die Beispiele Ephesos, Pamphylien und Pisidien, Aphrodisias und Iasos. München: Herbert Utz. Brandt, Hartwin. 1992. Gesellschaft und Wirtschaft Pamphyliens und Pisidiens im Altertum. Bonn: Habelt. Brandt, Hartwin, and Frank Kolb. 2005. Lycia et Pamphylia. Eine römische Provinz im Südwesten Kleinasiens. Mainz: von Zabern. Burrell, Barbara. 2004. Neokoroi. Greek Cities and Roman Emperors. Leiden: Brill. Burns, Ross. 2017. Origins of the Colonnaded Streets in the Cities of the Roman East. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Çevik, Nevzat. 1996/1997. “An Olive Oil Production Center in Pamphylia. Lyrboton Kome.” Lykia, 3: 79–101. Cormack, Sarah. 2004. The Space of Death in Roman Asia Minor. Vienna: Phoibos. Farrington, Andrew. 1987. “Imperial Bath Buildings in South West Asia Minor.” In Roman Architecture in the Greek World, edited by Sarah Macready and Frederick Hugh Thompson, 50–59. London: Thames and Hudson. Farrington, Andrew. 1995. The Roman Baths of Lycia. An Architectural Study. Ankara: British Institute of Archaeology. Giobbe, Chiara. 2013. “Roman Temples in Rough Cilicia. A Diachronic Analysis.” In Rough Cilicia. New Historical and Archaeological Approaches. Proceedings of an International Conference held at Lincoln, Nebraska, October 2007, edited by Michael C. Hoff and Rhys F. Townsend, 128–143. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Gliwitzky, Christian. 2010. Späte Blüte in Perge und Side. Die pamphylische Bauornamentik des 3. Jahrhunderts n. Chr. Bern: Lang. Grainger, John D. 2009. The Cities of Pamphylia. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Halfmann, Helmut. 2007. “Italische Ursprünge bei Rittern und Senatoren aus Kleinasien.” In Tra oriente e occidente. Indigeni, Greci e Romani in Asia Minore. Atti del convegno internationale Cividale del Friuli. 28–30 settembre 2006, edited by Gianpaolo Urso, 165–187. Pisa: ETS. Hellenkemper, Hansgerd, and Friedrich Hild. 2004. Tabula Imperii Byzantini 8. Lykien und Pamphylien. Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Heinzelmann, Michael. 2003. “Städtekonkurrenz und kommunaler Bürgersinn. Die Säulenstraße von Perge als Beispiel monumentaler Stadtgestaltung durch kollektiven Euergetismus.” Archäologischer Anzeiger, 2003, no. 1: 197–220.

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Hild, Friedrich. 2005. “Siedlungstypen im kaiserzeitlichen und spätantiken Pamphylien. Hamaxia und andere nichtstädtische Siedlungen.” Anzeiger, Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften, Philosophisch-historische Klasse, 140, no. 2: 57–89. Isler, Hans Peter. 2017. Antike Theaterbauten. Ein Handbuch. Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Kara, Onur, and Mustafa Demirel. 2015. “Perge 2014 Yılı Kazıları/ Excavations at Perge in 2014.” Anmed: Anadolu Akdenizi Arkeoloji Haberleri/News of Archaeology from Anatolia’s Mediterranean Areas, 13: 239–250. Kara, Onur, and Mustafa Demirel. 2016. “Perge 2015 Yılı Kazıları/Perge Excavations in 2015.” Anmed: Anadolu Akdenizi Arkeoloji Haberleri/News of Archaeology from Anatolia’s Mediterranean Areas, 14: 338–348. Kessener, Paul, and Susanna Piras. 1998. “The Aspendos Aqueduct and the Roman-Seljuk Bridge Across the Eurymedon.” Adalya, 3: 149–168. Kızıltaş, H., and A. Demirelli. 2019. “Plancia Magna Mezarı Kazı Çalışmaları,” in “Antalya Müzesi Müdürlüğü Başkanlığı’nda Perge Antik Kenti 2018 Yılı Kazıları,” edited by Mustafa. Demirel. Kazı Sonuçları Toplantısı, 41, no. 3: 425–426. Koch, Guntram. 2010. “Sarkophage der römischen Kaiserzeit in der Türkei. Ein Überblick.” Adalya, 13: 111–182. Korkut, Taner. 2006. Girlanden-Ostotheken aus Kalkstein in Pamphylien und Kilikien. Untersuchungen zu Typologie, Ikonographie und Chronologie. Mainz: von Zabern. Lauter, Hans. 1970. “Die hellenistische Agora von Aspendos.” Bonner Jahrbücher, 170: 77–101. Lohner-Urban, Ute. 2019. “Die ‘Hellenistische Blüte’ in Side und Tavium aus archäologischer Sicht.” In Antiquitates variae. Festschrift für Karl Strobel zum 65. Geburtstag, Internationale Archäologie. Studia honoraria 39, edited by Renate Lafer, Heimo Dolenz, and Martin Luik, 199–209. Rahden: Verlag Marie Leidorf. MacKay, Theodora S. 1990. “The Major Sanctuaries of Pamphylia and Cilicia.” In Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt II 18, 3, edited by Wolfgang Haase and Hildegard Temporini, 2045– 2129. Berlin: De Gruyter. Mansel, Arif Müfid. 1963. Die Ruinen von Side. Berlin: De Gruyter. Martini, Wolfram. 2015. “Zur Wasserkultur in Perge in Pamphylien.” In Turm und Tor. Siedlungsstrukturen in Lykien und benachbarten Kulturlandschaften. Akten des Gedenkkolloquiums für Thomas Marksteiner in Wien. November 2012, edited by Barbara Beck-Brandt, Sabine Ladstätter, and Banu YenerMarksteiner, 279–289. Vienna: Österreichisches Archäologisches Institut Wien. Martini, Wolfram. 2019. “ИANAΨA ΠΡEIIAΣ – Artemis Pergaia. Die Herrin von Perge. Ihr Heiligtum und ihre Stadt.” In Natur und Kult in Anatolien. Viertes Wissenschaftliches Netzwerk an der Abteilung Istanbul des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts, edited by Benjamin Engels, Sabine Huy, and Charles Steitler, 91–116. Istanbul: Ege Yayınları. Martini, Wolfram, and Norbert Eschbach. 2017. Die Akropolis von Perge. Die Ergebnisse der Grabungen 1998–2004 und 2008. Istanbul: Suna & İnan Kıraç Research Center for Mediterranean Civilizations. Mitchell, Stephen. 2020. “The mansio in Pisidia’s Döşeme Boğazı. A unique building in Roman Asia Minor.” Journal of Roman Archaeology, 33: 231–248. McNicoll, Anthony W. 1997. Hellenistic Fortifications from the Aegean to the Euphrates. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Mitford, Terence Bruce. 1990. “The Cults of Roman Rough Cilicia.” In Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt II 18, 3, edited by Wolfgang Haase and Hildegard Temporini, 2131–2160. Berlin: De Gruyter. Nollé, Johannes. 1993a. “Die feindlichen Schwestern. Betrachtungen zur Rivalität der pamphylischen Städte.” In Die epigraphische und altertumskundliche Erforschung Kleinasiens. Hundert Jahre Kleinasiatische Kommission der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Akten des Symposiums vom 23. bis 25. Oktober 1990, edited by Gerhard Dobesch and Georg Rehrenböck, 297–314. Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Nollé, Johannes. 1993b. Side im Altertum. Geschichte und Zeugnisse I. Bonn: Habelt. Nollé, Johannes. 2001. Side im Altertum. Geschichte und Zeugnisse. Bonn: Habelt.



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Nollé, Johannes. 2007. Kleinasiatische Losorakel. Astragal- und Alphabetchresmologien der hochkaiserzeitlichen Orakelrenaissance. Munich: C.H. Beck. Nollé, Johannes. 2017. “Ein Brief des Kaisers Gallienus an Side. Herrscherliche Hilfe bei einer Versorgungskrise.” Chiron, 47: 303–337. Oktan, Mehmet. 2017. “Dedications to Zeus Drymon from Lyrboton Kome.” Philia, 3: 154–160. Özdizbay, Aşkım. 2012. Perge’nin M.S. 1.–2. Yüzyıllardaki Gelişimi/Die Stadtentwicklung von Perge im 1.–2. Jh. Antalya: Suna & İnan Kıraç Research Institute on Mediterranean Civilizations. Özdizbay, Aşkım. 2020. “Euergetists of Italic Origin in the City of Perge and their Contributions to Urban Development.” In Philanthropy in Anatolia through the Ages. The First International Suna & İnan Kıraç Symposium on Mediterranean Civilizations, March 26–29, 2019, Antalya. Proceedings, edited by Oğuz Tekin, Christopher H. Roosevelt, and Engin Akyürek, 83–96. Istanbul: Koç University Press. Piesker, Katja. 2015. “Auf den zweiten Blick. Ein neuer Rekonstruktionsvorschlag für den ‘Dionysostempel’ in Side.” Istanbuler Mitteilungen, 65: 151–183. Piesker, Katja. 2017. “Stadtbauforschung an der sogenannten Attius Philippus-Mauer in Side (Pamphylien).” In Bericht über die 49. Tagung für Ausgrabungswissenschaft und Bauforschung vom 4. bis 8. Mai 2016 in Innsbruck, edited by Koldewey-Gesellschaft, 156–163. Dresden: Thelem. Pohl, Daniela. 2002. Kaiserzeitliche Tempel in Kleinasien unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der hellenistischen Vorläufer. Bonn: Habelt. Recke, Matthias. 2007. “In loco Murtana, ubi olim Perge sita fuit”. Der Beginn archäologischer Forschungen in Pamphylien und die Kleinasien-Expedition Gustav Hirschfelds 1874. Antalya: Suna & İnan Kıraç Research Institute on Mediterranean Civilizations. Richard, Julian. 2012. Water for the City, Fountains for the People. Monumental Fountains in the Roman East. An Archaeological Study of Water Management. Turnhout: Brepols. Richard, Julian. 2014. “Macellum/μάκελλον. ‘Roman’ Food Markets in Asia Minor and the Levant.” Journal of Roman Archaeology, 27: 255–274. Şahin, Sencer. 1999. Die Inschriften von Perge I. Bonn: Habelt. Schuler, Christof. 2014. “Fernwasserleitungen und römische Administration im griechischen Osten.” In Infrastruktur und Herrschaftsorganisation im Imperium Romanum. Akten der Tagung in Zürich. 19.–20.10.2012, edited by Anne Kolb, 103–120. Berlin: De Gruyter. Sielhorst, Barbara. 2015. Hellenistische Agorai. Gestaltung, Rezeption und Semantik eines urbanen Raumes. Berlin: De Gruyter. Tomaschitz, Kurt. 1998. Unpublizierte Inschriften Westkilikiens aus dem Nachlass Terence B. Mitfords. Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Vandeput, Lutgarde. 2017. “Kaiserzeitliche Wasseranlagen zur Verschönerung der Städte Pamphyliens und Pisidiens.” In Urbanitas – urbane Qualitäten. Die antike Stadt als kulturelle Selbstverwirklichung, edited by Alexandra W. Busch, Jochen Griesbach, and Johannes Lipps, 137–154. Mainz: Verlag des Römisch-Germanischen Zentralmuseums. Vitale, Marco. 2012. Eparchie und Koinon in Kleinasien von der ausgehenden Republik bis ins 3. Jh. n. Chr. Bonn: Habelt. Waelkens, Marc. 1987. “The Adoption of Roman Building Techniques in the Architecture of Asia Minor.” In Roman Architecture in the Greek World, edited by Sarah Macready and Frederick Hugh Thompson, 94–105. London: Thames and Hudson. Waelkens, Marc, Lorenz E. Baumer, and Mustafa Demirel. 2019. “The Heracles Sarcophagus from Geneva. Workshop, date, provenance and iconography.” Istanbuler Mitteilungen, 69: 187–259. Welch, Katherine. 1998. “Greek Stadia and Roman Spectacles. Asia, Athens, and the Tomb of Herodes Atticus.” Journal of Roman Archaeology, 11: 117–145. Wood, Susan. 2017. “Klaudius Peisōn Anethēken. A Gift of Sculpture at the South Baths of Perge.” American Journal of Archaeology, 121: 439–466. Yegül, Fikret K. 2010. Bathing in the Roman World. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

CHAPTER 26

Cilicia Dominique Krüger and Richard Posamentir

Introduction Writing on the Roman province of Cilicia is a difficult task. First, this part of southeast Asia Minor never constituted an entity, either politically or geographically. Moreover, though several attempts have been made in recent years to change this, large parts of the region are blank spots on the archaeological map. This is not only true for the Roman era but also for previous periods; only places like the early Greek settlements at Tarsus, Nagidos, and Kelenderis shed light on this region in the pre-Hellenistic and Hellenistic eras, and, with certain exceptions, archaeological evidence even for the first century ce is still meager at best. Much more is known about Cilicia in the age of Christianity: thousands of churches, monasteries, and even settlements are rather well preserved, though in many cases they obscure earlier remains of the Roman era. The reasons for this situation must be sought in Cilicia’s character: a landscape connecting East and West, but far from the centers of the ancient world, and with very specific topographical conditions. Discussion of its cities and their urban development will therefore be a sequence of isolated cases, occasionally forming clusters due to local circumstances. Likewise, the level to which the Greek and Roman cities of Cilicia have been explored can only be called heterogeneous, though things have improved during the past two decades. Still, it is hardly possible to provide a decent plan of some cities, and in too many cases it is necessary to rely on information that cannot be verified. Due to these circumstances, a more elaborate introduction to topographical and political issues is necessary.

The Cilician Landscape: Where Cultures Met Ancient Cilicia (Figure 26.1) roughly corresponds to the modern Turkish provinces of Adana and Mersin. Its southern border is the Mediterranean Sea, and the nearest island is Cyprus, with which the region was in constant contact, maintaining trade relations from at least the A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 2, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



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Figure 26.1  Map of Hellenistic (a) and Roman (b) Cilicia, by Dominique Krüger using QGIS, formatted by John Wallrodt.

Bronze Age on; its influence became especially strong again in Rough Cilicia in the Roman era. To the west, already in the midst of the Taurus foothills, Cilicia borders on Pamphylia; it is separated from Syria on the east by the low Amanos range; and on the north the main body of the Taurus Mountains forms an almost insurmountable boundary, though passes led to Isauria, Lykaonia, Cappadocia, and Kommagene. The ones best known and most important for control and commerce were the “Cilician Gates” leading to Cappadocia, the Baylan Pass between Alexandreia ad Issum and the Orontes Valley, and the trail from Syria through the Amanos Mountains and farther along the coast toward the West. Thus, even though encircled by the Taurus to the north and west, the Antitaurus to the east, and the Mediterranean

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to the south, the apparently compact territorial entity of Cilicia was the most important overland link between Mesopotamia, Syria, and Asia Minor. The geographer Strabo (Geography 14.5.1) divided Cilicia into two different regions, Smooth (Kilikia Pedias; Lat. Cilicia Campestris) and Rough (Kilikia Tracheia; Lat. Cilicia Aspera), with the river Lamos as the natural border between them. In book 14, Strabo discussed the location of the various Cilician cities and their geographical characteristics, but it is significant that the most detailed ancient description of Cilicia, its cities, and surroundings is provided by a later source, the Stadiasmus of the Great Sea (§163–208) of the third century ce. Smooth Cilicia must have been densely populated at that time, its extremely fertile coastal zone in the region of today’s Adana and Tarsus; stretching as far as the Taurus foothills. Its northern part was marked by deep river valleys, but in the south a fertile alluvial plain was crossed by four large rivers: the Kalykadnos (modern Göksu Çayı), Kydnos (Berdan/Tarsus Çayı), Saros (Seyhan Çayı), and Pyramos (Ceyhan Çayı). These plains were already known in antiquity as the most fertile part of Asia Minor (Xenophon, Anabasis 1.2.22; Diodorus Siculus 14.20.2; Strabo, Geography 14.5.1), and they still are the most productive ones in Turkey, especially for cereals, cotton, and rice in certain parts. Other regional products were and are wine, olives, figs, dates, and other fruits, as well as horse breeding and fishing. The Taurus Mountains, on the other hand, offered additional resources such as iron, lead, and silver. Thus Smooth Cilicia was a region rich in all kinds of natural resources, as well as an important interface between the Anatolian Plateau and Mesopotamia as well as the Levant. In contrast, hilly Rough Cilicia to the west stretched along the coast over the area between Korakesion (modern Alanya) in the west and Soloi-Pompeiopolis (today a part of Mersin) to the east, but also included the hinterland of the whole peninsula-like promontory. This hinterland is a mountainous karst landscape of sandstone and limestone, with steep hills, little water, and sparse vegetation. With the exceptions of Olba and Diokaisareia, we still do not know much about its ancient settlements. Nevertheless, the land was cultivated to a certain extent: it was suitable for all kinds of fruit, and within several branches of the Taurus range it offered good pastures for the famous Cilician goats, and excellent wood for shipbuilding. In addition, near Selinus, modern Gazipaşa, recent research has discovered “one of the largest Roman-era kiln sites ever to be identified in Turkey,” producing transport amphorae (Rauh 2012, 3). Rough Cilicia was also known for its mineral resources, olive oil production, and viticulture. Again the features of the northern sector, part of the foothills of the Taurus, differ significantly from the coastal southern sector. Due to these circumstances, a “modest” lifestyle prevailed in Rough Cilicia, and only coastal cities such as Elaiussa Sebaste developed into important places in the Roman era; most of them served as centers of trade and transfer for goods and wares, such as the timber from the hinterland. Thus, it is not surprising that ancient writers were influenced by contemporary clichés about barbarians inhabiting these regions (Pilhofer 2006, 25–32; Froehlich 2009).

History Though its early settlements probably date back to the Bronze Age, the area of Cilicia is most likely to be roughly equated with the lands of Kizzuwatna (Smooth Cilicia) and Tarḫuntašša (Rough Cilicia) mentioned in Hittite texts, and the first written evidence for the term Cilicia is found in Assyrian sources of the ninth to seventh centuries bce (Desideri and Jasink 1990, 114– 127). The whole area was successively under Hittite, Assyrian, and Persian rule, then fell to Alexander the Great; after his death it was governed by native, Macedonian, Syrian, and Egyptian kings, constantly changing its boundaries (Erzen 1940). Due to this instability of political control, it was sometimes possible for polities to break away. For example, the Teukrid priests of Olba in the mountainous regions of eastern Rough Cilicia established their own small principality, which lasted until the reign of Vespasian; the Tarkondimotids around the city of Anazarbus in Smooth



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Cilicia took over a Seleucid eparchy and formed a small Roman client kingdom in the first century bce; and Elaiussa Sebaste fell under the rule of the kings of Cappadocia and Kommagene. The gradual exhaustion and loss of power of the Hellenistic empires led to an increasing spread of piracy by the end of the second century bce (Appian, Mithridatic Wars 92–93; Strabo, Geography 14.5.2; Tacitus Annals 12.55; Ormerod 1997, 190–247). Especially the mountainous parts of Rough Cilicia formed an ideal operational base for pirates and local warlords. In order to fight them, the Romans intervened militarily as early as 102 bce, though instead of a formal annexation of the region, Cilicia was initially subordinated to the governor of the province of Asia. It is still fiercely disputed, but was probably not until 80 bce that a Praetorian provincia Cilicia was established by Sulla. In 67 bce, Pompey was finally granted imperium proconsulare maius in order to effectively combat the pirates, who had become a real or alleged threat to seafarers and travel to the East. After his resounding victory, in the course of his 64 bce reorganization of the East, he merged the two parts of Cilicia into a single province, with Tarsus as its capital. At the same time, the coastal areas with their urban centers were transformed into city-states, which created the necessary atmosphere for them to prosper. After the reorganization of the East by Mark Antony following Caesar’s assassination, however, Cilicia once again disappeared almost entirely from the map: its western part fell to the province of Asia, while the remainder was distributed among several client kings. The last of them, Antiochos IV of Kommagene, ruled in Elaiussa Sebaste until 72 ce, when the emperor Vespasian reattached his territory to Smooth Cilicia and made the whole region the province of Cilicia, once again with Tarsus as its capital (Josephus, Jewish War 18.5.4; Suetonius Vespasian 8.4). For the first time in Cilicia’s history, the aim was to establish a more than ephemeral administrative organization, and to give birth to an enduring integration, particularly of the peripheral mountain regions, into the empire. In the middle and late Roman Empire the whole province, like the rest of Asia Minor, experienced a period of prosperity, which was reflected by a substantial expansion of cities and settlements, the road network and, as a result, the economy. This development also included the establishment of new cities, the renaming of existing ones, and a generous redesign in many cases; most of these measures seem to date to the second and third centuries ce. From the second half of the second century ce on, the frequent appearances of emperors triggered intensive construction, especially of public buildings. The hostile relationship between the Roman Empire and the powers of the East had a growing impact on Cilicia: from the time of Trajan on, the province was the scene of the Roman army’s deployment against the Parthian Empire and, after 226 ce, against its successor, the Sassanid Empire. The third invasion by Shapur I, King of the Sassanids, affected the whole province: in late summer of 260, he advanced deep into Roman territory and devastated large parts of Cilicia (according to the great inscription of Shapur I at Naqsh-i Rustam, known as the Res gestae divi Saporis, 23–27). The unstable situation that followed led to decades of uprisings and further invasions. The unrest finally came to an end with Diocletian’s provincial reforms, according to which the province of Isauria was established in Rough Cilicia, and a governor with special powers was appointed. This short but necessary overview of the geographical and political background has made clear why it is so difficult to talk about Cilicia as an entity: there was no coherent development, as most of the larger cities and indeed the two parts of Cilicia each had their own history.

History of Scholarship This lack of coherent development is also true of the history of research, which has hardly ever focused on the whole region of Cilicia. In fact, recent study of Cilicia has become even more locally dominated, focusing exclusively on certain specific sites.

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Wilbrandus de Oldenborg was the first European to visit the Christian shrines and admire the ruins of Cilicia on his way back from the Holy Land in 1209; to him we owe the first descriptions of the region and its remains. Scientific interest, at first focused on Rough Cilicia, became particularly strong in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, during which a wave of travelers explored the region. Due to its remoteness, which made trips both arduous and dangerous, the resulting descriptions were rather short and of less documentary value than in other parts of Asia Minor. The first detailed reports were provided by Francis Beaufort (1818) and Charles L. Irby together with James Mangles (1823), who anchored at some Cilician sites during their sea passages. Charles Texier (1862, 723–31) followed soon afterward, though he dealt only cursorily with Cilicia in his descriptions on the geography, history, and archaeology of Asia Minor. At about the same time, the French Orientalist Victor Langlois (1861) visited Rough Cilicia, mainly focusing on the geography and the collection of inscriptions. Some years later, the English scholar James T. Bent (1890, 1891) explored many places in Cilicia more comprehensively, producing a compilation of the ancient sites and their current appearance. Shortly afterward, Rudolf Heberdey and Adolf Wilhelm (1896) started a research project on behalf of the Austrian Academy of Sciences. They provided detailed descriptions of the various places they were able to visit, and recorded a large number of newfound inscriptions. Wilhelm then returned a couple of years later and, together with Josef Keil, concentrated on Silifke and its surroundings (Keil and Wilhelm 1915, 1931). In this way, Rough Cilicia had already received a great deal of attention by the mid-1950s. Smooth Cilicia, however, was still a blank page, at least from a classicist’s point of view, though Gertrude Bell had stopped at some sites, such as Anazarbus, taking pictures of high documentary value. This situation finally changed shortly after World War II, when Michael Gough and his wife, Mary, visited several cities in Cilicia and conducted a survey at Anazarbus, also describing many sites nearby (Gough 1952, 1954); his excavations at Alahan Monastery again focused strongly on Rough Cilicia. It was not until the mid-1960s that the archaeological exploration of Cilicia truly began. First results were provided by a survey of some coastal cities of western Cilicia by Elisabeth Rosenbaum and her colleagues (1967), under the patronage of the Turkish Historical Society. Simultaneously, George E. Bean and Terence B. Mitford (1970) published the results of field trips undertaken in 1964–1968. Finally, the two-volume monograph by Hansgerd Hellenkemper and Friedrich Hild (1986), who had traveled the region systematically in 1983 and 1985 and recorded all visible ruins, was of major importance. Even though it concentrated on late antiquity and the Byzantine era, their book is still an indispensable tool for those seeking an overview of the written sources and material culture of the province of Cilicia. Nonetheless, there were and are deplorable and unavoidable limitations to any expansive archaeological exploration of Cilicia. There are hardly any traces of ancient structures left in important cities that have been continuously inhabited to the present day, such as Adana, Tarsus, Korakesion (Alanya), Seleucia ad Calycadnum (Silifke), and SoloiPompeiopolis (Mersin). Moreover, extensive medieval settlement at places such as Aigeai, Anazarbus, and Korykos also led to a considerable loss of ancient monuments. Even in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, remaining ruins were partly demolished (SoloiPompeiopolis, the city wall of Anazarbus) or damaged by natural causes (Elaiussa Sebaste). It is only over the past few decades that projects have been initiated to study and protect the ancient cities of Cilicia. Many of them are associated with the University of Mersin and the KAAM (Kilikia Arkeolojisini Araştırma Merkezi), founded in 1993. Since 1996, the researchers of the Rough Cilicia Survey Project (RCSP) under the direction of Nicholas K. Rauh of Purdue University have been working on a comprehensive and diachronic survey devoted to the historical remains of Rough Cilicia (e.g., Hoff and Townsend 2013). A few excavations have also been carried out in Cilicia for several years: those of the Italian mission in Elaiussa Sebaste (e.g., Equini Schneider 2003), an American team in Antiochia



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ad Cragum (e.g., Hoff et al. 2016), and the efforts in Nagidos (e.g., Durugönül 2007) and Kelenderis (e.g., Zoroğlu 2018) are the most important and productive ones. Projects concentrating on sites of Smooth Cilicia such as Anazarbus, Hierapolis-Kastabala, Magarsus, Tarsus, and Soloi-Pompeiopolis have contributed a lot to our understanding of the region. The same holds true for Rough Cilicia: the sites of Olba, Diokaisareia, Korykos, Iotape, Syedra, and Selinus have (at least partly) been explored and offer valuable insights. It is nevertheless still difficult to transform all these single bodies of evidence into a synthesis concerning the Roman era (for a brief recent attempt, Spanu 2020), as will become clear in the following section.

Urban Development: Before the Imperial Province Our state of knowledge of Hellenistic Cilicia is still incomplete at best (e.g., Hoffmann, Posamentir, and Sayar 2011), despite the attempts of Hansgerd Hellenkemper (1980) to draft the rough outlines of urban development based on his comprehensive knowledge of the region. Though there have been numerous studies on individual archaeological questions and a few synopses on the history of the region, there is still no particularly detailed picture of the settlement and administrative structure of this time, nor of the historical and cultural processes of change and their effects. In Rough Cilicia, the decreasing power of the Hellenistic rulers ultimately resulted in a decline of the cities there, which not only favored the emergence of piracy but is probably also a reason for the remarkably sporadic finds of Hellenistic architecture. There seem to have been small, well-protected settlements on individual mountain peaks, of which the pirates took advantage in the second and first centuries bce. Their most important fortresses were situated at Antiochia ad Cragum and Korakesion. Scattered traces of Hellenistic settlements can also be found on the acropoleis of some cities of Rough Cilicia, such as Anemurium. In Elaiussa Sebaste, a Hellenistic settlement has been identified on the peninsula itself (Equini Schneider 2008, 116). In the area of the Olbian temple state and around the sanctuary of Zeus Olbios at Diokaisareia, a city developed during the transition to the imperial period (Wannagat 2005, 128–139). Additionally, a dense network of fortifications characterized the area of influence of Olba (Durugönül 1998). In Smooth Cilicia, settlements dating to the Hellenistic period can only be found in a few places. The most spectacular examples are the mysterious fortress on Mount Karasis near the modern city of Kozan (Hoffmann 2011) and the settlement around the sanctuary of Athena Magarsia (Rosenbauer and Sayar 2011). Besides these, only some small sites without signs of substantial stone architecture, such as Sirkeli Höyük, have been identified so far, and some of those, like Nagidos, were obviously abandoned a little later, and probably merged into larger cities of the early Roman era. Generally, the first century bce must have been a time of major change, and the Roman victory soon led to a certain degree of stability and prosperity in a turbulent region, especially in Rough Cilicia. Pompey resettled the defeated and captured pirates in the depopulated cities of Cilicia. For example, Soloi was rebuilt on the remains of the Greek settlement and received the name Pompeiopolis (Appian, Mithridatic Wars 17, 115; Plutarch, Life of Pompey 28, 4). This followed the Hellenistic tradition, common in Cilicia and especially under Antiochos IV Epiphanes, of awarding Seleucid dynastic names to major cities: Seleukos I Nikator founded Seleucia ad Calycadnum after he had brought a large part of Cilicia under his control at the end of the third century bce; Tarsus received the name Antiochia ad Cydnum, while Adana became Antiochia ad Sarum. During the transition to the imperial period, this tradition was revived, not only for Pompeiopolis but also for a number of cities founded or refounded by

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Roman client rulers (Figure 26.1). Shortly after 20 bce, Elaiussa received its second name, Sebaste, from Archelaos of Cappadocia, in honor of his benefactor, the emperor Augustus. Tarkondimotos II Philopator, a local client ruler, might have been responsible for renaming Anazarbus as Caesarea ad Anazarbum during a possible visit by Augustus in 19 bce. Likewise, the city of Augusta, close to modern Adana, was founded in 20 ce in honor of Livia, the mother of the emperor Tiberius. Archelaos’ successor, Antiochos IV of Kommagene (38–72 ce), client king of the Roman Empire and at times ruler of large parts of Cappadocia, Cilicia, and Kommagene, founded, among others, Antiochia ad Cragum, Iotape (named after his wife or daughter), and Germanikopolis (for the emperor Claudius’ brother Germanicus or one of his descendants, like Gaius or Nero, who used that name). Most likely under Tiberius, Diokaisareia was granted the status of a city. These names reflect the increased attention paid to Cilicia by the Roman emperors, and vice versa, as well as the affiliations of its client kings with the Roman imperial family, and somewhat ameliorate the extreme scarcity of archaeological evidence, especially in Smooth Cilicia, in the first century ce.

Urban Development: The New Province under the Flavians Road System The first evidence for the improvement and extension of the road network of Cilicia appears in the form of building inscriptions and milestones in Greek (plus some in Latin) from the time of the establishment of the newly unified province under Vespasian. The oldest examples are the now lost building inscription of a bridge at Seleucia ad Calycadnum, built by a certain L. Octavius Memor in 77/78 ce (IGRR III 840), as well as a bilingual milestone of 80 ce, from the area north of the same place, giving the name of the imperial governor M. Petronius Umbrinus (SEG 42, 1293). Both inscriptions document activities initiated directly by the Roman emperor. Another milestone mentioning M. Petronius Umbrinus was found west of Diokaisareia (Şahin 2015, 294–297), and further milestones from the reign of Vespasian’s son Titus confirm intensive building activities under the Flavians; the name of the city Flaviopolis, most likely modern Kadirli, must be seen in this context. Economic and military interests likely triggered this development: the coastal road is still frequented intensively, and the natural harbors of the individual cities, especially those of Rough Cilicia, guaranteed a lucrative sea trade, now defined by Roman interests. An especially important trading partner was still Cyprus; Anemurium, the nearest coastal town, may have been particularly involved (Audret 2012).

Water Supply As well as road construction, the improvement of water supplies was an important aspect of the urbanization of the new province. The aqueduct that provided Elaiussa Sebaste and Korykos in Rough Cilicia with water from the river Lamos is probably the oldest (Equini Schneider 2008, 24, 64). One of the aqueducts of Anazarbus in Smooth Cilicia is built in a similar style and dates to 90/91 ce, according to a dedication by the demos to the emperor Domitian (Sayar 2000, 30 no. 20). Such early dates of construction underline the importance of fresh water supplies for certain areas of the province. It is possible that an ashlar-­constructed water pipe leading to Diokaisareia (Murphy 2016) was also installed in the first century, assuming it was built simultaneously with the nymphaeum in the public square that features an early imperial podium temple (Dorl-Klingenschmid and Kayser 2009, 107). The



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nymphaeum’s first phase was of the “Sigma-shaped fountain” type, based on the semicircular segmented central section of its façade; referring to Hellenistic predecessors, this form was developed in western Asia Minor during the transition to the early imperial period. Its date as well as architectural context suggest commission by an Olbian dynast who wanted to underline his personal ties to Rome. This early construction of aqueducts is not surprising, especially when compared with other cities of Asia Minor, such as Ephesos: it shows the high priority Roman rulers and/or their representatives put on water supply during the development of the province.

Baths Likewise, the first Roman baths in Cilicia were built in the first century ce. The “Harbor Bath” in the urban territory of Elaiussa Sebaste (Figure 26.2a) is probably the oldest in the whole region: isolated parts of walls from its first phase were built in opus reticulatum, and comparison with Italy suggests a date around the mid-first century ce (Borgia and Spanu 2003, 300–301). This is one of the earliest examples of this type of construction in the eastern Roman Empire, and though it remained rare in Asia Minor, it represents an important turning point in the architectural history of Cilicia. Its use may be related to the reign of the client king Antiochos IV of Commagene, who spent his youth in Rome and was seemingly responsible for the application of this building technique elsewhere in his kingdom, such as Samosata’s city wall or the temple of Ancoz. The plan of the “Harbor Bath” puts it in the category of “row type” with two apses (Figure 26.2a), strikingly similar to many of the baths of Lycia, which have a row of three or four rectangular rooms arranged next to each other, without an apse; this speaks for a common predecessor of these buildings. Another complex in Elaiussa, the “bath in opus mixtum” near the early imperial temple, belongs to the same type (Equini Schneider 2008, 72). The use of opus mixtum, again rare in imperial Asia Minor, suggests the work of specialized masons brought to the region. Three more baths in cities of Rough Cilicia also date to the first century ce: one in Hamaxia (Figure 26.2c) belongs to the “row type” without apse (Huber 2005, 21–23), and another in Kelenderis of the same type, but with a small palestra, had an L-shaped arrangement of its row of rooms (Figure 26.2d; Tekocak 2008). This L-shaped arrangement only appeared in Cilicia during the first century ce, though the reason remains unclear; a close parallel for this feature is the large bath at Syedra, dating to roughly the same time. Only in the case of Elaiussa Sebaste, however, do the unusual architecture, features, and building techniques indicate a close connection between local rulers and the empire’s capital.

Theatrical Buildings Strikingly, no large-scale theater has been found to date to the early days of Roman rule in Cilicia. Considering the province’s history, this comes as a surprise, as one would expect at least some Hellenistic forerunners. Of course, a young province during the first period of urbanization may not have placed theaters among its most needed buildings. Though we do not know much about Hellenistic Cilicia, this probably shows that the scarce remains are not just due to incomplete preservation. (Strange as it may seem, some of the Cilician theaters built in later times feature Hellenistic planning elements.) It appears that the economic and socio-political conditions of the Cilician cities did not require such facilities on a larger scale.

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Figure 26.2  Bath buildings in Cilicia.  a. Elaiussa Sebaste, Harbor Bath, “row-type” with two apses. b. Anemurium, bath near the theater, “hall-type.” c. Hamaxia, “row-type” without apse. d. Kelenderis, “row-type,” L-shaped.  Figure by Dominique Krüger, from Borgia and Spanu 2003, fig. 254; Rosenbaum et al. 1967, fig. 3; Huber 2013, fig. 22.19.1a; and Tekocak 2008, fig. 3.



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Exceptionally, two small theaters, in the cities of Laertes and Kelenderis in Rough Cilicia, might have been erected in the first century ce, though it is difficult to explain why the first such buildings in the province should have been built in these two not extraordinarily important cities. The lack of large theaters in the cities of Rough Cilicia down through the second and third centuries ce suggests that these small theaters must have combined the functions of a theater with those of a bouleuterion or odeion.

Temples On the other hand, it is hardly surprising that the construction of new temples in this early period was almost exclusively connected with the Roman emperor (Figure 26.3). The Podium Temple in Diokaisareia may be considered the oldest imperial temple of Cilicia. The city, privileged by Tiberius, had developed around the important older sanctuary of Zeus Olbios. East of its great temple, a square was laid out, with a temple on a podium dominating it; its architectural details are typical for the turn of the millennium (Wannagat 2005, 144), and whoever commissioned it, probably an Olbian dynast, deliberately deviated from the Hellenistic tradition and chose a Roman building type. As local inscriptions honor Tiberius as the founder of the city, the Podium Temple was probably dedicated to him. On the other hand, though many new temples of this time were dedicated to the emperor, not all were: a prostyle temple at the western end of Diokaisareia’s colonnaded street, whose facade once featured six granite columns with Corinthian capitals, had a dedication to Tyche carved on its architrave, and dates to the second half of the first century ce (Hagel and Tomaschitz 1998, OlD 6). The well-studied temple at Elauissa Sebaste also dates to the first century ce, probably even to its first half (Figure 26.3a; Equini Schneider 2008, 133). This impressive peripteral structure also stood on a podium, like that at Diokaisareia, and also had a vaulted underground chamber like other early imperial temples in Asia Minor, such as that to Jupiter Optimus Maximus, Augustus, and the Genius Coloniae in Pisidian Antioch (see Strobel, chapter 22). The architectural remains do not allow for identifying the deity worshiped there, but it is likely that it was dedicated to the cult of the Roman emperor. Despite its ruinous appearance, the pseudodipteral temple of Seleucia ad Calycadnum, probably dedicated to Zeus, is still the best-preserved building of the ancient city within the center of modern Silifke; it may have been erected in the second half of the first century ce (Figure 26.3b; Giobbe 2013, 132–134). The temple stands on a podium with stairs up to its eastern entrance; within the pronaos, staircases that led up to the roof have been reconstructed, a detail with parallels in the East, but only occasionally in Asia Minor. Early and rather modest temples in Lamos and Kestros were both built for the cult of Vespasian. That at Lamos (Figure 26.3c) belongs to a small group of tetrastyle prostyle temples; three unusual niches at the southeastern side were probably intended to accommodate statues of Vespasian, Titus, and Domitian. L. Octavius Memor, also known from the inscription of the bridge at Seleucia ad Calycadnum (above) is mentioned in one of the rare Latin inscriptions found nearby, built into a later wall (Pilhofer 2006, A 151). The Southern Temple in Kestros (Figure 26.3d) featured six statue bases for Vespasian, Titus, and some of their successors along the wall of its cella (Hagel and Tomaschitz 1998, Kes 13–18). With the exception of a temple to Domitian in Anazarbus known only through an inscription (Sayar 2000, 30–31 No. 21), all other known temples of the first century ce were in Rough Cilicia. Though most of these early temples displayed a modest Doric order, they often had a podium with opus caementicium core, and some had Corinthian capitals, indicating a certain willingness to adopt new influences from outside, in this case from the West. The same holds true for details that came from the East, such as an underground chamber or stairs leading up to the roof, which were most likely not local traditions.

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Figure 26.3  Cilician Temples from ca. first century ce.  a. Elaiussa Sebaste. b. Seleucia ad Calycadnum. c. Lamos. d. Kestros. e. Laertes. f. Selinus, early second century ce. Figure by Dominique Krüger, from Baldassarri 1999, fig. 57 and Borgia 2017, fig. 1; Berns 1998, fig. 3; Söğüt 1998, fig. 15, 17, 20; Winterstein 2013, fig. 13.15.



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Summary In general, the types of buildings constructed during the first century ce show the range that one would expect for a new province with only modest ties to Rome. After the establishment of the province under Vespasian, far-reaching improvements to the road system and the water supply were obviously initiated, but remains are hard to trace archaeologically. Some of these constructions, such as aqueducts, required certain technical skills for their implementation, especially for new techniques like opus caementicium, which could hardly have been provided by local craftsmen. Well-trained artisans were not necessarily immediately brought from Italy but are more likely to have been recruited in the neighboring and already more advanced provinces. Nonetheless, such constructions, strongly reminiscent of Rome itself, must have served as markers of power, wealth, and prestige in Cilicia, as in other provinces. Those building techniques and types, however, were mostly occasional and isolated phenomena, explicable by personal connection and some proximity to power: Elaiussa Sebaste certainly represents the best example of this. Other architectural details present in this city – such as the only inscription made of gilded bronze letters in Cilicia – underline this impression of a strong and almost direct input from Rome itself. It is noteworthy that these echoes of empire are almost entirely concentrated in the area of Rough Cilicia; the cities of Smooth Cilicia seemed to have received considerably less attention during the first century ce, and the total number of verifiable buildings of this first imperial period in both parts of the province is significantly low. At Anazarbus, aside from a temple for Domitian (known only through an inscription) and coins from the reign of Claudius showing a fortified acropolis, just a handful among the several hundred architectural elements collected in the process of an extensive spolia survey can be identified as coming from the first century ce. As we know so little about the various cities at this time, it remains difficult to determine the extent to which Hellenistic or local traditions affected urban planning in this transitional period. In cities that existed for centuries before Roman domination, such as Anemurium, Laertes, Seleucia ad Calycadnum, Soloi-Pompeiopolis, and Tarsus, however, a certain tradition should be assumed. With the exception of Pompeiopolis and possibly Anemurium, very few of the cities seem to have been fortified or equipped with a city wall in these times; the first archaeologically verifiable city walls date to late antiquity. When compared with its neighboring provinces, urban development in Cilicia seems to have lagged behind, which may be attributed to its geographical and historical particularities. The natural topographical division between Smooth and Rough Cilicia becomes strongly visible for the first time in their differential urbanization in the early imperial period. Surprisingly, Rough Cilicia (though only in its coastal zones) shows more traces of so-called Romanization than Smooth Cilicia, which, from a topographical point of view, would have been much better suited for it.

The Growth of Cities in the Second Century ce The occasional presence or interest of the Roman emperors in the cities of Cilicia in the course of the second century ce led to the adoption of surnames such as Hadriana, Commodiana, and Antoniana to honor their visits and benefactions. Not surprisingly, Hadrian’s name was taken particularly often after his visits to the province; he conceded all kinds of benefits or rights to various cities, especially to those rich in tradition, such as Tarsus (e.g., Pilhofer 2006, Q 37). Further expansion and improvements of the road system, especially well documented in the reign of Hadrian, must be seen in this context: his traveling activities might have

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accelerated the process. Improvements included a bridge over the Saros River in Adana, as well as the renewal of parts of the coastal road and especially of the routes from Anemurium through the northern mountainous areas toward Cilicia’s northern neighbor, Galatia. During a time of great prosperity in the provinces of Asia Minor, this phase of expansion served, above all, to improve trade connections between the coast and Central Anatolia. At the same time, the first monumental colonnaded streets of Cilicia were laid out; these were a meaningful marker of cultural ties to the East, especially to Syrian precedents, though the location of the first monumental colonnaded streets is still under debate. According to current research, the streets in Soloi-Pompeiopolis and Tarsus seem to be the oldest in the province (Bejor 1999, 71–75; Güven 2003, 49). Part of the colonnade in Pompeiopolis is well preserved: it featured Corinthian capitals, columns with consoles, and tabernae on both sides of the street. Diokaisareia had three such streets, all intersecting, probably originating in the Antonine period (Spanu 2013b, 630). Diokaisareia is one of only two cities in Cilicia so far known to have had orthogonal street systems; that of the northern sector of Anazarbus was newly laid out in the second century ce, though it used a grid of Hellenistic style. Once again, despite the foundation of many Cilician cities by Hellenistic rulers or even mythical founders, it seems as if their inhabitants had almost no earlier traces of urban design to refer to, though this may be due to a lack of evidence from heavily overbuilt centers such as Tarsus, Adana, and Seleucia ad Calycadnum. The fact that the two oldest colonnaded streets are found in cities of Smooth Cilicia may simply be due to its flatter topography, but similarities in construction between Smooth Cilicia and Syria, the province to its southeast, testify to contacts between these two adjacent areas that were obviously stronger than those between Syria and Rough Cilicia. The donors and benefactors of such streets were usually members of the civic elite who had some interest in the construction of prestige buildings, likely coinciding with the possibility of an imperial visit or the bestowal of special honors on the city. Furthermore, these streets with their countless accompanying tabernae (one-roomed shops) also fulfilled an economic function: they form an architectural expression of substantial trading activities, evidence for which had largely been lacking in Cilicia until this period. The only artificial harbor in the entire province, that of Pompeiopolis, is one of the most impressive constructions of the middle imperial period. The basin was surrounded by two piers made of opus caementicium, with their foundations built directly on the seabed. Whether the emperor himself or his authorized representatives were involved in its construction cannot be confirmed without further epigraphic and archaeological evidence, but imperial involvement can be assumed based on the sheer size and execution of the massive construction project. Pompeiopolis received one of the largest harbor basins of the eastern Mediterranean Sea, ready to accommodate not only merchant ships but also the imperial navy. This harbor might have been partially responsible for a shift in political interest from the cities of Rough Cilicia to those of Smooth Cilicia. Interestingly, the harbor and the colonnaded street mentioned above were parts of a simultaneous building program, carried out not just for economic but for military reasons, and so too costly to be funded solely by member(s) of the local elite, as was usual for other building activities in Cilician cities. Probably mainly due to the incomplete state of research, there is no evidence for the construction of new aqueducts during this period. On the other hand, much more construction of major public buildings occurred in the second century ce than at any time before. Many cities, now evenly distributed in both Rough and Smooth Cilicia, received their first public baths. Sometimes these were of substantial size: for example, among the baths at Anemurium is one south of the theater with a central hall surrounded by rooms, a type known only in Cilicia (Figure 26.2b). The baths that can be precisely dated were almost exclusively built in the Hadrianic/Antonine periods; like the expansion of the road system and the construction of the harbor in Pompeiopolis, they confirm extensive building activities in these decades. It



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seems that the smaller cities of Cilicia previously lacked sufficient economic power to tackle large projects. With the exception of the two small theatrical buildings of the first century ce at Laertes and Kelenderis already mentioned, there is no known evidence for possible predecessors of theaters in Cilicia. Apparently the economic preconditions and mental disposition of the inhabitants were not ready for such monumental and meaningful undertakings until the time of Roman rule. But in that period, other Cilician cities received facilities for public performances and official meetings. Larger theaters were finally built from the second century ce onward, but they were almost exclusively concentrated in Smooth Cilicia (Figure 26.5). In general, they display both Greek and Roman features, as in the theaters at Anazarbus or Elaiussa Sebaste. The well-preserved but understudied theater of Hierapolis Kastabala, however, inexplicably shows construction details one would otherwise only find in the West (Brasse 2017, 246 n. 96). The construction of the only known circus of the entire province, in Anazarbus (Posamentir and Sayar 2006, 347–350), might also fall into this period of Cilicia’s greatest prosperity; but it must be considered a modest and almost anachronistic structure, with its irregular tiers hewn in the natural rock on one side. From Trajan to Marcus Aurelius, many temples were built in Cilicia, their plans and dedicatees varying as much as the cities in which they were erected. This was especially true during the reigns of Trajan and Hadrian, whose presence in the area led to the erection of outstanding examples. Trajan’s death in Selinus in 117 ce was commemorated with a poorly preserved temple or temple-like cenotaph of substantial size, featuring historic reliefs and architectural decorations of superior quality (Figure 26.3f; Winterstein 2013). The award of a first neokoria to the ancient city of Tarsus likely led to the construction of the Donuktaş, a gigantic pseudodipteral temple, the most famous in Cilicia and one of the largest in Asia Minor, of which only the filling between the stone foundations, made of opus caementicium, has survived (Figure 26.4; Held 2008; Held, Burwitz, and Kaplan 2014). Other temples, mostly in cities of Rough Cilicia, are significantly smaller or remain uninvestigated; they were devoted to Roman emperors as well as to the old gods. To sum up, the second century ce was characterized by massive building activities in the cities of both Rough and Smooth Cilicia, but there was a significant shift toward Smooth Cilicia. During the first century ce most known buildings had been erected in Rough Cilicia, as already discussed, but in the second, the cities in the eastern part of the province began their rise. Places such as Tarsus and Anazarbus received impressive temples, baths, and theaters; the latter became a real urban center at this time, but Tarsus must have been one even earlier, though there is little evidence of its original appearance. In particular, the many newly erected bath buildings, which can now be found in almost all Cilician cities, seem to indicate a new attitude toward life in the province and the more frequent adoption of Roman building types. This is also reflected by the various necropoleis, where the introduction of sparsely decorated and rather uniform house tombs seems to indicate some direct Roman/Italian influence. It is worth noting that these are found almost exclusively in cities of the coastal zones, while in the more rural hinterland it was still common to construct more prestigious grave monuments in an almost Hellenistic style. One of the most impressive constructions of the middle imperial period, considering its secular character, was the artificial harbor at Pompeiopolis, which served as an anchorage for the imperial navy, and also showed the rising economic as well as strategic importance of the sea route toward Antioch on the Orontes and the East in general. Other novelties of the period include the construction of theaters and, above all, the introduction of colonnaded streets. Proximity to Syria must have influenced their appearance, and especially their size, though similar and contemporary examples were also built in neighboring provinces. In addition to the small temples of the first century ce in Rough Cilicia, now almost every city received at least one new temple. Usually these were of moderate size,

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Figure 26.4  Tarsus, Donuktaş Temple: reconstruction according to Koldewey (1890, fig. 3) drawn by Dominique Krüger.



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mostly prostyle, but huge foundations found in cities of Smooth Cilicia may indicate larger examples as well. Other dedications to the Roman emperor included monumental gates (such as those at Korykos, Diokaisareia, and the “Gate of Kleopatra” at Tarsus) and arches, such as that at Anazarbus; it is typical that we are unable to connect the construction of the latter to any certain occasion or emperor.

The Severan Dynasty Under the Severans, the occasional presence of emperors in the province for the Parthian Wars again influenced the urban development of Cilicia, especially in Smooth Cilicia, which led to the bestowal of several neokoros titles to cities such as Anazarbos, Aigeai, and again Tarsus. The distribution and dating of milestones indicate that the roads of Cilicia were increasingly enhanced to facilitate troop movements during these years, especially in the reign of Septimius Severus. A Latin building inscription of 217 ce found at the “Cilician Gates” (IGRR III 892) specifies that the emperor Caracalla had the pass enlarged to make the passage of Roman troops easier. Above all, new and yet more monumental colonnaded streets characterize the Severan period; their size alone again confirms the influence of Syria on Cilicia. One of the widest and longest colonnaded streets of the ancient world was built at this time: the main road of Anazarbus in Smooth Cilicia. With a length of 1.75 km and a width of up to 34 m between the colonnades, although its materials and execution are modest at best (Posamentir 2008), it emphasizes the newly gained importance of the cities in Smooth Cilicia. At the same time, Anazarbus’ neighboring city, Hierapolis Kastabala, erected a colonnaded street displaying intriguing similarities to that of Anazarbus, though significantly reduced in size. It was not until the late second century ce that Cilicia was both economically and socio-politically prepared for extensive urban development in which the construction of colonnaded streets was a major element. New water pipelines in Olba, Anemurium, and Selinus indicate the growing need for further water supplies in these prospering cities, especially considering the needs of newly constructed baths and nymphaea in various cities of Rough and Smooth Cilicia. The baths of Antiochia ad Cragum, east of its colonnaded street, show a floor plan with rooms arranged around a central hall, a Cilician type known from the baths of Anemurium south of the theater (Figure 26.2b). Another bath of this type is a slightly later building in Syedra, but all date to the late second or early third centuries ce. Since there are no predecessors or successors of this type, their geographical proximity and similar dating suggest that they were products of one team of architects or craftsmen, with a certain technological knowledge but otherwise with a local background, traveling through Cilicia. Under the Severans, one theater (in Olba) and one odeon (in Anemurium) are known to have been built in Cilicia (Figure 26.5). The odeon is particularly noteworthy for two features: the upper tiers of the cavea directly join with the walls of the scaenae frons, and there was a unique mosaic-floored U-shaped space underneath the cavea that served as a substructure for the upper rows. Anazarbus probably received its modest amphitheater in the early third century ce; it may have been built in order to entertain the troops garrisoned in the city over the course of the Parthian Wars (Figure 26.5; Posamentir and Sayar 2006, 350–351). This building type is rare in Asia Minor, and its combination with an equally rare circus in Anazarbus (a pairing only precedented in Pergamon and Kyzikos in Asia) once again shows this city to be a special case. Yet despite its expansion and lavishly decorated monumental buildings, Anazarbus neither minted coins in precious metals nor featured a single architectural element made of marble during Roman imperial times: all its buildings, including the monumental arch, the colonnaded street, the theater, the façade of the circus, and others of uncertain function, were made entirely of local limestone.

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Figure 26.5  Theaters and an amphitheater in Cilicia. Figure by Dominique Krüger, from Spanu 2011, fig. 61; Keil and Wilhelm 1931, fig. 102; Erten and Kaplan 2017, fig. 5; Sear 2006, plan 370; Posamentir and Sayar 2006, fig. 34, 40.

Building Materials and Techniques In Cilicia, building materials differed substantially from city to city, as geological characteristics also varied. The vast majority of Cilicia’s buildings, however, were made of local limestone, which was easily available in huge quantities at nearby quarries; it can be harder or softer, depending on its time of formation. Due to the stone’s rather poor quality, architectural decoration is generally rare or less elaborate, which makes exact dating difficult to impossible (Spanu 2013a). A few other building materials were used only in certain contexts: architects and craftsmen made some use of local deposits of granite, basalt, pumice, etc. (Tobin 2004). Granite was



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occasionally used for columns, whether of temples, colonnaded streets, or scaenae frontes of theaters: examples include the “Northeast Temple” and colonnaded street of Antiochia ad Cragum, and the streets of Syedra, Anemurium, Korykos, and Diokaisareia. In Anazarbus, Hierapolis Kastabala, and Augusta, a dark reddish conglomerate stone, similar to granite but slightly softer, was used for columns of the colonnaded streets, as well as for other public buildings. Most likely of local origin, this particular stone only appears in these three cities, setting them apart from the rest of Cilicia and once again testifying to a local network of craftsmanship. Basalt is quite rare and exclusively found in Smooth Cilicia; it is not limited to particular types of buildings but can be found in the pavement of the colonnaded street of Tarsus, the theaters of Epiphaneia and Mopsuestia, and the baths of Aigeai. Pumice stone was only used in some buildings in Smooth Cilicia, especially for vaultings and roof constructions, where its light weight offered advantages to builders: it was used in the baths, one aqueduct, and the upper level of the monumental arch at Anazarbus. This pumice was obtained from the volcanic regions of southeastern Cilicia (Spanu 2003, 25 fn. 103). Specific to the construction of Roman buildings in Selinus is the use of “beachrock,” especially visible in the “Şekerhane Köşkü,” the temple or cenotaph of Trajan (Winterstein 2017). This material, formed by the cementitious consolidation of sediments, is found along the beaches of the city, and appears not just in the temple/cenotaph but in the city’s odeion, baths, and aqueduct. Marble was also used occasionally, though as noted above, it is almost completely absent in some obviously important Cilician sites such as Anazarbus, at least during Roman imperial times. Until recently, all marble found in Cilicia was assumed to be imported, mostly from the quarries of the Troas and the island of Prokonnesos. More recent research, however, has identified a far-reaching marble veinlet south of Korakesion/Alanya, which was exploited by at least one ancient quarry close to Antiochia ad Cragum. Its quality is inferior to the marble from the west coast, however, so it was used only in Antiochia ad Cragum itself and at Selinus. Nonetheless, most of Cilicia’s constructions, regardless of building type, were of local limestone. The continuation of the Hellenistic tradition of ashlar masonry, though without use of dowels and clamps, can be observed especially in the cities of Rough Cilicia, and was particularly popular for sacred buildings up to the third century ce. The lack of examples in Smooth Cilicia, however, can likely be explained by the substantially inferior state of preservation of its cities. Authentic opus caementicium rarely appears in Cilicia; it is widely assumed that a mortar without volcanic ash was used (Spanu 2003, 21), although there were sources for such ash in the east of the province. In the artificial harbor of Soloi-Pompeiopolis, however, scientific investigations have proven that the core of its opus caementicium included pozzolana ash imported from the Phlegraean Fields in Campania; this is so far the only known case in Cilicia (Brandon et al. 2010, 391). Another striking use of an imported building technique is the opus reticulatum of the “Harbor Bath” of Elaiussa Sebaste, noted as one of the few, best-preserved and earliest examples of this masonry technique yet found in the Roman East (Borgia and Spanu 2003, 300–301). Though the masonry technique opus testaceum, using bricks, is generally very rare in Asia Minor, it was employed in remarkably large quantities for the baths of Smooth Cilicia, at Aigeai, Anazarbus, Augusta, Hierapolis Kastabala, and Tarsus. On the other hand, opus mixtum, where bricks alternate with opus reticulatum, can only be found in the small baths near the temple in Elaiussa Sebaste. Though there is as yet no reliable information about large-scale clay brick production in Cilicia, it is possible that the geological conditions allowed for brick production only in Smooth Cilicia (Spanu 2003, 21–24). Though one can assume local bricks to have been made somewhere in Smooth Cilicia, the variously sized bricks mentioned above do not have meaningful marks or stamps to inform us further.

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Connections with the Eastern Provinces Due to its geographical situation, Cilicia was an important link between Syria, Asia Minor, Central Anatolia, and Cyprus; the province represented an area of transit during the Roman Empire. The main overland trading route led from Ankyra through the “Cilician Gates” to Tarsus and then into Syria via the Amanos Mountains. It was the only land route leading to the provinces east of Cilicia, enabling economic exchange between Syria and central parts of Asia Minor; it is therefore not unreasonable to assume that Cilicia made cultural contacts with its eastern neighbors. Looking at architectural similarities between Cilicia and the eastern provinces, especially Syria, has brought to light some evidence for a lively exchange during Roman imperial times, as also during late antiquity (Mietke 1999). As mentioned, Syrian influence is most evident in the architecture of colonnaded streets, which were particularly numerous and monumental in Smooth Cilicia. In contrast to other cities of Asia Minor, where tabernae were found lining the agorai, Cilicia’s went along the colonnaded streets, as was more usual in the provinces farther east. Another unusual feature found in Cilicia is the occasional use of blocked-out capitals, which were applied to funerary architecture as well as colonnaded streets (Kaplan 2013, 89–113). These were concentrated in a small area of Rough Cilicia: Korykos, Olba, and Diokaisareia. This type of capital is mainly known from Syria, primarily in the decoration of tombs and temples. Columns with integrated consoles appear in several colonnaded streets of Cilicia; this feature can be found in the entire Near East, and is occasional in other cities of Asia Minor, but is again particularly widespread in northern Syria and its neighboring regions, while not found south of Syria, in Jordan. Taking all this evidence together, its close neighbor Syria might have influenced the appearance and layout of the colonnaded streets in Cilicia. This is interesting in that the colonnaded streets of Asia Minor are, to our current knowledge, older than those of provinces farther east, if one accepts that the streets of Attaleia (recently disputed; Adak and Wilson 2012), Pisidian Antioch, and Sagalassos date to the Tiberian period. The oldest colonnaded streets of Syria, however, were built at the beginning of the second century ce (with the still disputed and unproven example from Antioch on the Orontes as a potential exception; Burns 2017), and as mentioned, all those in Cilicia date to the mid-second century at the earliest. It should therefore be concluded, at least at the moment, that this building type was transmitted from Asia Minor to the East, where the colonnaded streets grew in size and importance. The similarities between the Syrian and Cilician examples show that the monumentalized version of this building type later “returned” from the East and led to the style of colonnaded streets built in Anazarbus, Hierapolis Kastabala, Pompeiopolis, and so on. Cilician temples also show characteristics similar to those of provinces farther east. Most striking is the vaulted chamber beneath the temple cella, accessible via a staircase from the building’s interior, as found in Elaiussa Sebaste (Borgia 2008, 264) and Selinus (Winterstein 2013, Fig. 13.7–13.9). Vaults beneath temples are known from examples in Asia Minor, such as those at Pisidian Antioch and Aizanoi, but they are found in higher numbers in the more eastern provinces. Again, while the idea might have been born elsewhere, it eventually traveled to Cilicia from Syria. The use of niches in the temples of Lamos (above) and Nephelis is also unusual; despite the rarity of western models, Roman legates have been identified as the donors of both temples. Niches were also a popular element of Syrian temples, however, which again could have served as inspiration to the Cilician architects. The awkward combination of a low podium with a krepis should also be mentioned; it can be found at the “Northeast Temple” in Antiochia ad Cragum and in Lamos, and possibly in Nephelis. Again, these three examples form a separate group within Cilicia, most likely due to their topographical proximity and a connection among their respective cities. Temples possessing both features are rare in Asia



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Minor (there are examples at Side and Selge), but again appear more frequently in the eastern provinces, with the temples of Baalbek displaying them prominently. Another peculiarity of the Cilician temples is the possible presence of stairs leading up to the roof. This is not based on direct evidence so far, but has been assumed from the unusually thick walls of the pronaos of the pseudodipteral temple of Seleucia ad Calycadnum (Figure 26.3b; Berns 1998, 140), and has also been suggested for the giant Hadrianic pseudodipteral temple at Tarsus (Figure 26.4; Held 2008, 171). Staircases at this spot can be found in Asia Minor as well as in Syria, but in Syria, the performance of ritual acts on temple roofs was part of a known tradition and dates back to much older times, giving them the character of an archetype. The “hall” type of baths, with rooms arranged around a central hall, has already been mentioned as specific to Cilician architects. In this case, the question of predecessors is more difficult: there are no directly comparable examples in Asia Minor, and the north Syrian ones are typologically later. For the time being, they may be regarded as a local Cilician invention that was later transferred to northern Syria. Another possible echo of eastern influence might be seen in the lack of real separation of necropoleis from urban spaces; since most Cilician cities do not show even traces of a fortification (except for acropoleis), graves tend to be very close to the inhabited areas, without visible separation. In Anazarbus, for example, chamber tombs and sarcophagi from the second and third centuries ce immediately border the theater and the circus; the situation is somewhat similar in Hierapolis Kastabala, as well as in Elaiussa Sebaste. The vast number of funerary temples from the second and third centuries ce around Elaiussa Sebaste, as well as in other cities in the eastern part of Rough Cilicia, indicates a stronger Syrian influence in this respect than in Smooth Cilicia. In comparison with the case of the colonnaded streets, this is certainly surprising.

Local Traditions vs. Foreign Influence Cilicia already served as a commercial and strategic link among Asia Minor, central Anatolia, and Syria prior to Roman rule. At first glance, the whole region shows few unexpected features in its urban development between late Hellenistic times and the third century ce, but in some key aspects, Cilicia differs from other provinces of Asia Minor. Admittedly, it is difficult to judge this development, especially in the earlier period, as the extremely scarce Hellenistic remains make it unclear whether cities with substantial building density and infrastructure were completely destroyed, or simply never existed. It was not until the establishment of the province under Vespasian that the road system and water supply were significantly improved, mainly for economic and military reasons. Many features of Cilician architecture bear witness to the province’s position as a mediator between East and West. The issue of eastern influence has already been broached, but it also became clear that Rome began to play an important role from a certain point on: historically, from the first century bce, and architecturally, from the first century ce. One probably should not speak of the replication of specific Roman building types, but rather of the integration of Roman elements into civic projects initiated by urban elites and, in the early days, by client kings. Some of these required certain technical skills for their implementation, especially when they used new building materials or techniques that couldn’t be provided by local craftsmen. Specialists from neighboring provinces were probably recruited, which is more likely than Roman soldiers bringing these techniques to Cilicia. The new buildings, however, may have been based partially on local traditions, which makes the question of intentional dependency on Roman models more difficult to answer. In general, stimuli from both East and West are perceptible in Cilicia, which led to some specific local features in its architecture as well. For example, inhabitants of the coastal cities of Rough Cilicia seem to have adopted the Roman/Italian tradition of sparsely decorated, rather uniform house tombs, but they combined them with a local tradition of inhumation, additional altars, and niches.

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As in other provinces in the Roman East, the occasional passage or even presence of an emperor led to increased building activities. The main phases of intense development are therefore not surprising: under Augustus (partially resulting from Pompey’s victory over the pirates); under Vespasian, when the province was established and opened up to Rome; during the visits of Trajan and Hadrian; and during the Severan period, when the emperors came to Cilicia yet more often for their campaigns against the Parthians. A similar pattern occurred in neighboring provinces, such as Pamphylia. Due to the geographical and topographical situation, there are certain eye-catching differences between the cities of Cilicia’s two regions: those in Rough Cilicia generally possessed smaller buildings, though these still had the same functions as those in Smooth Cilicia. This separation was already evident in the early imperial period, but it was Rough Cilicia that played the role of a precursor in urban development. The rather late urban development in Cilicia as a whole may be due to historical reasons; the combination of western and eastern influences, on the other hand, is due to the province’s geographical location.

Biographical Notes Dominique Krüger is currently a member of a research group at Julius-MaximiliansUniversity Würzburg (DFG FOR 2757). In her dissertation, she studied the processes of Roman urbanization in Cilicia during the first and third centuries ce. Her current research focuses on Roman urbanization in Asia Minor in general and on the Roman settlement phase in Ḫattuša as part of the excavation project. Richard Posamentir is a professor in Classical Archaeology at Eberhard Karls University Tübingen. He has worked intensively at various sites in Turkey for over twenty-five years; between 2003 and 2008, he conducted a field survey in and around the Cilician city of Anazarbus. His current research focuses on building activities in the Roman East during the first and third centuries ce.

Abbreviations IGRR = Inscriptiones Graecae ad res romanas pertinentes. 1906–1927. Edited by René Cagnat and Georges Lafaye. Paris: E. Leroux. SEG = Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum. 1923–. Ed. J. J. E. Hondius et al. Leiden: Brill.

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CHAPTER 27

Syria Andreas Kropp

Introduction The Roman province of Syria extended over large parts of the Near East, covering what is today the Syrian Arab Republic, the Republic of Lebanon, and southeastern Turkey, from the Taurus range in the north to the Yarmūk River in the south, and from the Mediterranean in the west to the Euphrates and the Syrian Desert in the east. At first, when Pompey set up the new provincia Syria in the 60s bce, it also engulfed a group of Hellenized cities known as the Decapolis, farther south. But as these cities were soon to be detached from the province and distributed to Judaea and the province of Arabia (created after 106 ce), they will be mentioned in those chapters. Also, in keeping with the premise of this volume, the present contribution does not deal with the rich artistic output of Roman Syria, but rather with the material culture at large. There are few places better suited than Syria to explore cultural processes in the provinces at the so-called periphery of the Roman Empire. Not only had the great civilizations of the Ancient Near East succeeded one another on its soil and left behind their cultural traditions, but Syria was also of supreme strategic importance in global politics. It was across this province that the two superpowers of their day, Rome and Parthia, later supplanted by Persia, wrangled for dominion over the Levant. Syria was, hence, a key region of transit and exchange, contrast, and contact: a populous and prosperous country, blessed with fertile soils and natural resources; a repository of millenary traditions; and a cultural crossroads whose inhabitants showed an extraordinary capacity to navigate among languages, cultures, and traditions, adapting and negotiating their identities along the way. The period examined in this chapter (44 bce to 337 ce) was a time of unprecedented growth and prosperity. Syrian towns and cities were redesigned and monumentalized on a large scale, while in the countryside, agriculture expanded farther than ever before or since, as witnessed by scores of long-abandoned ghost towns and estates in the limestone massif of the north and in the Ḥaurān in the south.

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 2, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



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Given this enormous cultural wealth, one would expect an abundant crop of up-to-date scholarly research on Roman Syria. But far from it. There is excellent work on specific sites and areas of study (see Lehmann 2002 for extensive bibliographies for each site; Burns 2009 provides handy summaries of all the main sites in what is now Syria), but there is a distinct lack of bigger-picture syntheses that try to take stock and make sense of the current state of research across the region. The best syntheses that do exist are often set at a wider geographic scope, looking at the entire Near East including Palestine and Arabia, and covering a longer time span, rather than treating Roman Syria as a discrete entity in its own right (Millar 1993; M. Sartre 2001, 2005; Butcher 2003; Andrade 2013; Ball 2016; Fowlkes-Childs and Seymour 2019; Kaizer 2021). There are reasons why this should be so. Our knowledge of Roman Syria is patchy compared to other provinces. This is partly due to the evidence itself. Many of the most important cities have fallen victim to their own urbanistic success: ancient Antioch, Aleppo, Emesa, Damascus, Sidon, Tyre, and many others are now overbuilt with layer upon layer of occupation, and topped by sprawling modern cities. In these urban contexts, occasional rescue excavations only allow for the most minute of glimpses into urban history. But all this pales in comparison with the ravage and destruction that Syria has been suffering since 2011. The human toll in this civil war is on a sheerly incomprehensible scale, with millions of Syrians killed, displaced, or made refugees. The nation’s material and archaeological heritage, too, is entangled in this conflict in a variety of ways. IS militias have gone about destroying key sites like Palmyra and Dura Europos (Baird 2020), in keeping with their stated goal to erase any trace of Syria’s pre-Islamic past, while at the same time financing their war effort through systematic looting and illicit antiquities trade (Weirich 2021). Across the country, a population struggling to survive turns to antiquities as a rare source of desperately needed revenue. Looting and destruction at Syria’s many museums and myriad archaeological sites have taken on a new dimension. The damage is incalculable. It will take many years to even take stock and assess what has been lost, destroyed, and looted, let alone to start thinking about the resumption of fieldwork. But none of this is even conceivable before there is an end to this humanitarian catastrophe.

Geography of Roman Syria Syria is part of the western half of a broad ribbon of cultivable land called “the Fertile Crescent.” It is divided into strips of land running longitudinally, parallel with the Mediterranean coast: first, a very narrow coastal plain, seldom more than a few km wide, with hills or high mountains behind; second, a north–south rift valley (Orontes – Beqa’ – Jordan – Dead Sea); finally the eastern, often mountainous, steppe and the desert (Figures 27.1, 27.4). The narrow plains of the coast are fertile, watered by streams from upland. The mountain ranges, from north to south Amanus, Casius, Bargylus, and Lebanon (reaching a height of 3000 m a.s.l.), are formidable barriers and in places stretch out to block even the coastal roads with forbidding promontories, such as Mt. Carmel south of Ptolemais/Akko, the promontory at the mouth of the Dog River (Nahr el-Kalb) south of Byblos, and Theuprosopon, the “face of god” (Ras Shekka) between Botrys (Batrūn) and Tripolis (Trāblus). The gaps in this mountainous backdrop are the natural lines of trade and communication. The rift valley is framed on both sides by hills or mountain ranges, from which it collects the water and brings forth the main rivers of the region. The Beqa’ Valley (average height 1000 m a.s.l.), a fertile narrow cleft between the high peaks of the Lebanon and, on the eastern side, Hermon and Anti-Lebanon, contains the source of Orontes, modern Nahr al-‘Āsī, and the Leontes (Litani). The former departs toward the north, forms an extensive fertile valley in central Syria, and takes a sharp westward turn past Antioch into the Mediterranean.

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Figure 27.1  The road network of Roman Syria; some of the routes are inferred or conjectured. © A.J.M. Kropp.

Finally, the Jordan River originates on the slopes of the Anti-Lebanon and takes a course due south, descending well below sea level at the Sea of Galilee and the Dead Sea (ca. –400 m a.s.l.). The geological fault continues here under the name Wādī ‘Arabah, all the way to the Red Sea at Aqaba. Beyond the rift valley, the eastern mountains and steppe fade, at times imperceptibly, into the desert. In Central Syria the desert almost reaches the right bank of the Orontes near Emesa (Ḥomṣ); farther north, it recedes to leave an extended fertile area between the Orontes and the great bend of the Euphrates, where the Euphrates approaches within some 200 km of the Mediterranean. Thanks to sufficient rainfall and a number of tributary rivers from the northern highlands, this strip of land has been able to support large populations since antiquity, notably at Beroea (Aleppo) and Chalkis ad Belum. A second fertile tongue into the desert is the Ghūtā oasis, formed by the Chrysorhoas (Barada) River, which descends from the Anti-Lebanon past Abila and feeds the city of Damascus. The desert landscapes are varied, ranging from sandstone rocks and sandy dunes on the banks of the Euphrates to black basalt



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in the Leja and the Ṣafā south of Damascus. Surrounded on all sides by desert, the oasis of Palmyra lies halfway between Damascus and Dura on the Euphrates. The lava-lands south of Damascus, the Ḥaurān and Jōlān (Golan), are habitable due to adequate precipitation, although they are unable to support large urban populations. To the east, the high slopes of the Jebel Ḥaurān (1,800 m a.s.l.) form a barrier against the desert. The southern limit of the Ḥaurān, and thus of the area in focus here, is the river Hieromykes (Yarmūk), an affluent of the Jordan running in an east–west direction. This brief sketch shows the great diversity of Syria’s geography. It has therefore been suggested that the “natural” condition of the region is fragmentation. For millennia, phases of political unity, usually dictated by foreign powers, alternated with phases of fragmentation into localized power bases. This fragmentation has helped foster local and regional diversity in the material culture of Roman Syria, as the examples of Palmyra and the Ḥaurān show; but of other local cultures, especially in rural areas, we can often only catch small glimpses. In contrast to the countryside with its kaleidoscope of local cultures, the towns and cities of Roman Syria offer a different picture. Here, the first centuries ce brought an increasing tendency toward cultural homogeneity. This trend was propelled by the shared Graeco-Roman ideals of the Hellenized, cultured elites, ideals that tied them together and connected them with the eastern Greek koiné at large.

Political Geography In the spring of 64 bce the Roman general Pompey led nine legions under his extended imperium into Syria, dismissed the last Seleucid contender, brought to an end 250  years of Seleucid history and created the new province of Syria. The province encompassed the most Hellenized and most densely urbanized portions: the Seleucid heartland in northern Syria, centered on the Tetrapolis of Antioch (the capital), Seleucia in Pieria, Apameia, and Laodicea, all Seleucid foundations (Held 2002; Bousdroukis 2021); the Hellenized Phoenician cities (Aliquot 2019, 2021; Sommer 2021); and some isolated urban clusters, such as the Palestinian ports and the Decapolis in Transjordan (Lichtenberger 2021). From 44 bce to 72 ce, Syria probably also included Smooth Cilicia. The changes brought about by the arrival of Pompey and the creation of provincia Syria should not be overstated. Areas deemed difficult to control, the mountains and the fringe of the desert, as well as “backward” regions, were left to client kings (Kropp 2013, 15–48). The south was left to only two large political entities that had already been in place, the Jewish Hasmonaean dynasty in Palestine and the Nabataeans in Arabia (see Burrell and Wenner, “Judaea” and “Arabia”, chapters 29 and 30, respectively, of this volume). Most of the hinterland of the Phoenician coast was ruled by the tetrarchs of Chalkis, and the upper Orontes Valley by the Emesans. There were many other chiefdoms and principalities in central and northern Syria about which our sources are nearly silent. Hence, the Roman province of Syria was at first not a contiguous land mass but a disjointed collection of territories interrupted by semi-autonomous local principalities. In the following decades, a number of territories went back and forth between direct provincial control by Roman authorities and indirect control through local dynasts. The most talented and successful rulers of the Augustan period were Herod the Great of Judaea and Aretas IV of Nabataea. The Flavian emperors brought a change in policy and went on to annex several principalities, including important former allies such as Emesa and Commagene, thereby turning the province of Syria into a solid land mass. By 106 ce, with the end of the Nabataean monarchy, all of the Near East was under direct Roman administration. Military strategy was a determining factor of the administration of Roman Syria. Rome faced the constant threat of a rival empire on the other side of the Euphrates, first the

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Parthians and, from the 220s onward, the Sassanid Persians. The relationship between the emperor and the king of kings fluctuated between cordial cooperation and all-out war. The Euphrates River, originally a mere demarcation line, was gradually turned into the frontier of a militarized zone. While the buffer kingdoms were absorbed in the later first century ce, troop deployment was adapted to the new situation. The legions, which were at first distributed throughout major cities of Syria (Antioch, Laodicea, Cyrrhus, and Raphanea) as mobile intervention troops, were later moved east and stationed directly on the Euphrates. As successive emperors created a strategic frontier from the Black Sea to the Gulf of Aqaba, the original three to four legions grew to up to eight, as well as two additional legions for Mesopotamia. Septimius Severus divided Syria into a northern province with two legions (Syria Coele) and a southern one with one legion (Syria Phoenice). As for attacks against the Parthians, a major, ultimately failed, campaign was led by Corbulo on Nero’s behalf in the 60s. Trajan, Lucius Verus, and Septimius Severus led successful campaigns in Parthia, but in the long term, Rome was only able to incorporate northern Mesopotamia and Osrhoene on a permanent footing. After temporary losses in the third century (Sassanid invasions of Syria, usurpation by Palmyrene rulers), Diocletian in 297 negotiated a peace treaty that preserved Roman rule over its Mesopotamian possessions and lasted well into the fourth century. Diocletian also reorganized the administration of Syria; the provinces of Syria Euphratensis, Coele, Libanensis, Phoenice, and Palaestina were able to recover their economic strength in the fourth century.

Archaeological Evidence and Research Syria was a populous Roman province with a reputation for excellent natural produce, quality craftwork, and a steady supply of erudite intellectuals of high caliber. And yet, historical sources on Roman Syria are not abundant, and of those authors who did write about Syria, virtually none was a native of the country. Among the most useful works are the Geography by the Augustan geographer Strabo and to some extent Josephus’ Jewish Antiquities and Jewish War, even though Syria is only at the periphery of his narrative on Judaea and Jewish affairs. Further nuggets can be gleaned from Pliny, Cassius Dio, Plutarch, Lucian, Suetonius, and Appian. All of these contributions are limited in scope and subject matter. Thus, the religious life of Hierapolis with its famous cult of the Dea Syria/Atargatis at Hierapolis is illuminated by Lucian’s quirky Dea Syria, whereas the local cults of hundreds of other communities across the country remain virtually in the dark. For most aspects of Roman Syria’s history, society, and culture, narrative sources are wanting, and archaeology has to step in. Corpora of inscriptions have been continuously published over the last century in the series Inscriptions Grecques et Latines de la Syrie. They now cover most of Roman Syria. Students of Semitic inscriptions are less fortunate. The large project Corpus Inscriptionum Semiticarum of the early twentieth century is in dire need of updating. For Palmyrene Aramaic, Palmyrene Aramaic Texts is a useful research tool, whereas inscriptions in other Aramaic dialects (Nabataean in southern Syria) and other Semitic languages (Safaitic in the desert areas) still await systematic treatment. The coinage of Roman Syria is an extraordinarily rich mine of information for questions ranging from local trade and economies to cults and temples (Butcher 2012, 2021). Antioch was by far the most prolific mint, producing the main silver currency in circulation in the entire Near East in addition to local bronze. Scores of cities produced their own civic coins, which normally had the emperor’s portrait on the obverse and local designs on the reverse. Long neglected, these local bronzes are starting to receive due attention thanks to the Roman Provincial Coinage project and a number of other publications (e.g., the excellent collection



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of articles in Howgego, Heuchert, and Burnett 2005; various coin collections published in the Sylloge Nummorum Graecorum series also have important collections of Syrian coins, chief among them Copenhagen, Glasgow, Bern, and Munich). The coin imagery depicts legions of gods, rulers, and buildings, which are not only important as antiquarian or art-historical evidence, but more crucially can tell us something about local cultural life and local identities. Fieldwork, be it survey or excavation, has not been nearly as extensive in Syria as in Palestine and Arabia. This imbalance is partly due to historical reasons, since much of Syria was considered to be outside the Holy Land that drew most of the scholarly attention for the last 150 years. Hence, there is no counterpart in Syria to long-established learned societies like the Palestine Exploration Fund (founded 1865) or institutions like the British School at Jerusalem. Archaeology in Syria and Lebanon received a boost in the wake of World War I, as the French Mandate power set up the Département Général des Antiquités, directed by luminaries such as H. Seyrig (1895–1973, director 1929–1941), to my mind the greatest specialist of the Roman Near East of the twentieth century. During this time, some of the best-known foreign archaeological missions took place in Syria, such as the excavations at Antioch (Princeton University) and Dura-Europos (Yale). Following World War II and the independence of Syria and Lebanon, Seyrig was also instrumental in setting up the Institut Français d’Archéologie du Proche-Orient and directed it from 1946 to 1967. As the Institut Français du Proche-Orient, it has led the way for archaeological research and fieldwork in Syria and Lebanon. Fieldwork at Dura-Europos (Leriche, Coqueugniot, and de Pontbriand 2012; Baird 2021), in the Ḥaurān (Dentzer 1985–86, 2003, 2007; Rohmer 2020) and in the limestone massif of northern Syria (Tate 1992; Ruffing 2021), to name just three long-term projects on Roman Syria, has resulted in a spate of excellent publications. The international footprint of archaeological institutions from the United Kingdom, United States, Germany, and other countries has traditionally been slight. Among the larger long-term projects, which continuously produce work of high standards one can single out the Belgian mission at Apamea (Balty 1981), and the Polish (Gawlikowski and Majcherek 2013), Austro-German (SchmidtColinet 2013), and Japanese (Saito 2013) projects at Palmyra (for an up-to-date overview, see Yon 2021). On the whole, French has been and remains the primary language of archaeological research on Syria and Lebanon, especially for the Hellenistic and Roman periods, a fact that is reflected in the references to this chapter. Some excavations are unfortunately not sufficiently well documented, and publications are decades in the making, or never see the light of day. Also, there is an almost complete lack of extensive surveys focusing on the Hellenistic and Roman periods, whether on a microregional or macro-regional level. The surveys that have been undertaken are almost entirely concerned with prehistory, the Bronze Age and Iron Age (see list in Lehmann 2002, 675– 705). Research on Roman Syria has therefore been heavily imbalanced toward larger towns and cities, and in these cities especially toward public monuments. With rare exceptions such as the limestone massif of northern Syria and to some extent the Ḥaurān (see below), there is much that escapes us about the archaeology of the countryside. Thus, it is at present impossible to write a history on topics like settlement patterns, economic development, and the relationship between town and country in the Roman period.

Roads and Communication Before looking at specific sites, it is worth considering the impressive network of roads built across Roman Syria (Figure 27.1). Roman roads were primarily constructed for the use of the military in the provinces, as a convenient means for easy communication and quick troop movement. These roads formed a highly efficient network of transport infrastructure and

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served as a means to extend and consolidate imperial power (in general, see Kolb 2019; for Roman Syria, Bauzou 1989; Butcher 2003, 127–131; Isaac 2021). Studying the design of the road network of Roman Syria therefore helps illuminate the military and political objectives that Roman authorities tried to implement on the ground. Yet the civilian aspect is not to be neglected. A functioning road system encouraged exchange and brought communities closer together. The road system can therefore also provide insights into the social and economic life of local populations. Beyond practical considerations that went into the establishment of the road system, one should not underestimate its propaganda value: Roman roads possessed an ideological quality, in that they were highly visible reminders of empire, even in remote places. Bridges, causeways and cuttings overcame obstacles of nature, symbolizing Rome’s technological mastery of the environment (Butcher 2003, 127)

But one should not imagine the road network as the exclusive business of emperors and provincial governors. Much of the day-to-day road administration and maintenance was left to cities and communities who themselves had a vital interest in the upkeep of efficient transport infrastructure. The course of the roads was determined by a number of factors: topography, natural geography, geopolitical factors, and the means of transportation. In Syria, Palestine, and Arabia – as in many other parts of the Greek East – Rome could build on existing traffic networks, such as age-old dirt tracks and caravan roads. But the Roman builders far outdid their predecessors and, starting from the later first century onward, went on to build an unprecedentedly extensive and complex road system. The evidence for the Roman roads of Syria is unevenly spread, and for many Syrian roads our maps still show blanks and question marks. Our ancient written sources have generally little to say about the road network. The best evidence comes from itineraries, most importantly the Itinerarium Antonini, the principal catalog of road stations with relative distances from one another from the third century (Cuntz 1929). Some Syrian roads are also displayed on the well-known Tabula Peutingeriana, a medieval manuscript map that shows the world of late antiquity (perhaps early fifth century). The scroll of 0.34 × 6.75 m gives an extremely compressed and distorted view of the world, but does depict a good number of routes, each with waystations and relative distances (Talbert 2010). The study of milestones is one of the key ways to understand the road network. These conspicuous roadside monuments typically record distances to destinations along the road, the names of the ruling emperor and provincial governor, and, as the case may be, the new work or maintenance carried out. Around one hundred years ago, Thomsen (1917) published all the Near Eastern milestones known at the time. Up to this day, this remains the only catalog of the Syrian milestones. By now, Roman Palestine has yielded some 650 Roman milestones and Arabia at least 400; for Syria, there are no reliable figures, but the overall number is much lower. This is less a consequence of Syria’s poverty in milestones than a reflection of a road network that has been understudied and is sorely lacking in extensive surveys and systematic documentation. What dramatic difference a survey can make is shown by one telling Jordanian case, the pioneering feat of Siegfried Mittmann (1964) who surveyed a stretch of only 40 km of a single Roman road between Jerash and Dar‘ā and found thirty-four (!) new milestones, twelve of which had legible inscriptions. In Syria, similar rewards may well beckon to future explorers. The use of milestones was not consistent across all areas, however. As in other provinces, milestones often crop up in clusters, set up over long periods of time by successive builders almost as an update of the latest construction work on a given track, while other road stretches



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are entirely devoid of milestones. There is no obvious explanation for this uneven distribution in terms of geography or road frequentation or accidents of survival. Rather, what this clustering suggests is genuine local differences in the output of milestones, and hence disparities in the administration of the roads among the various Roman localities that were responsible for construction and maintenance of the roads, including the installation of milestones. The archaeological evidence is paramount. Some roads are still visible, especially in thinly settled areas, or their course may be indicated by milestones, bridges, and wayside fortresses. Some of the best evidence comes from the wide expanses of the Syrian desert. Much of the “desert limes” has been traced on the ground and with the help of aerial photography, starting with the pioneering work of Antoine Poidebard (1934), who documented in great detail the roads, tells, and fortifications that formed the “limes of Chalkis,” as well as many of the routes across the Syrian steppe. Elsewhere, the evidence is much sparser. In the most populated areas, it is often obliterated by modern roads and settlements. Even on some key arteries, the exact course of the road can only be conjectured in certain sectors (e.g., the connection between Laodicea and Seleucia/Antioch on the main coastal road; or the vital transverse route from Berytus to Damascus via Heliopolis). Many roads, especially those across the steppe and the desert, remained little more than dirt tracks. Of those that were built up, the large majority were careful constructions consisting of three layers. A layer of flat stones formed the foundation, its surface around 30 cm deep. This was covered by a densely packed stone layer up to 20 cm thick, topped by a layer of clayey soil mixed with gravel (Bauzou 1989, 213–216). This was the standard technique one finds in Italy and across Roman provinces. The width of the roads is normally around 6 m, but can range from 4 to 7 m. The roads were lined with fieldstones on both sides, and another row of fieldstones went right through the middle of the track, thus effectively creating two lanes of 3 m each. Inside the cities and on some select routes, such as that connecting Antioch and Chalkis, the roads were paved with neatly cut flagstones. The level of craftsmanship is especially high in the second and third centuries. In later periods, the flagstones are of less regular size and shape and generally smaller. This is a development that is mirrored in building techniques in general: large block masonry of the second and third centuries gave way to masonry with smaller blocks and irregular gaps between them that are often filled by small stones. Many paved roads show signs of wear and tear, with parallel ruts carved by the to and fro of countless carts, chariots, and other vehicles. In late antiquity, the sumptuous colonnaded streets of Syrian cities were increasingly invaded by roadside stalls and shops, narrowing the lanes until the use of wheeled vehicles became impossible and forced the transport of goods to be transferred entirely to beasts of burden (Bauzou 1989, 215). Starting with north–south connections, one of the principal arteries since time immemorial was the coastal road, hugging the entire coastline from Antioch to Pelusium in Egypt via major port cities such as Laodicea, Tyre, Ptolemais, and Gaza (Goodchild 1949, still the only proper study). Control and upkeep of this road was of vital military, economic, and political interest to Rome, as much as it had been to the empires that preceded it, as can be seen at choke points such as the Dog River (Nahr el-Kalb) between Berytus and Byblos: there Latin inscriptions heralding the works of Roman emperors jostle for attention from passers-by with inscriptions of Assyrian kings and Egyptian pharaohs. This road also boasts the oldest milestone in all of Syria, from the reign of Nero in 56 ce. Roughly parallel to the littoral road, an inland route followed the Orontes Valley from Antioch past Apamea and Emesa, then branched to Heliopolis and Damascus. Three principal roads in southern Syria connected Damascus to Arabia and the Decapolis cities. Two of them led to Bostra (Boṣrā), seat of the governor of the provincia Arabia and headquarters of the Third Legion Cyrenaica: one followed the eastern edge of the basalt desert of the Trachonitis (Lejā), while the other, very well preserved, cut straight across it. Of

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the third, westernmost, road the only visible remains are on its first stretch, between Damascus and as-Sanamēn, but the whole route can now be reconstructed with a fair amount of certainty (Kropp 2006). The transverse connections from the coast to the hinterland are largely prescribed by orography. The “Syrian Gate” leads through the Amanus and connects the plain of Antioch with the coastal plain of Issus and Cilicia. The Orontes breaks its way westward past Antioch and to the sea at Seleucia in Pieria and separates Amanus from Casius. An extended corridor between the Bargylus and Lebanon ranges is provided by the bed of the Eleutherus river (Nahr el-Kebīr), the so-called Gap of Ḥomṣ. This is the most passable link between the coast and central Syria. No lowland pass crosses Mt. Lebanon. The most accessible route from the Phoenician coast to Heliopolis in the Beqa’ starts from Berytus and crosses the mountain at Jebel Barūk at a height of c. 1400 m a.s.l. Farther south, the hilly uplands of Palestine are less formidable obstacles. Several routes are available from the coast to the Jordan Valley, most notably the Jezreel Valley that separates Galilee from Samaria. Chief among the east–west connections across Syria was a route from Antioch to the upper Euphrates, past either Zeugma or Hierapolis. From there, one could continue eastward toward Edessa, or follow the right bank of the river down into Mesopotamia. The Euphrates could also be reached from farther south, starting from Emesa or Damascus, in both cases via Palmyra, the main hub of traffic across the steppe. From Palmyra, a northern route led to Sura, and more easterly ones to Circesium and Dura-Europos, all of which constituted commercial lifelines for the Palmyrene economy. The construction of new roads and the repair of old ones reached a peak under Septimius Severus and Caracalla. There is little evidence of large-scale work during the following crisis years, until road construction in Syria, as well as Arabia, received a new impetus under Diocletian. The best-known project was the strata Diocletiana, an improved and expanded connection between Damascus and Palmyra, accompanied by a tight chain of forts. Combined with the Via Nova Traiana in the province Arabia, a continuous limes road was now created, a massive north–south axis from Sura on the Euphrates to Aila on the Red Sea. This steady expansion and consolidation in the second and third centuries marked Rome’s intensified military organization in this area. It is no accident that the best-attested periods of road construction coincided with major military campaigns under Marcus Aurelius, Septimius Severus, and Diocletian. Construction work after this period is hard to detect, since in the fourth century the custom of setting up inscribed milestones ceased. The road network was probably not extended any further; any efforts went into consolidation and maintenance.

Urbanism and Public Monuments Origins and Plans The cities of Roman Syria looked back on centuries, if not millennia, of urban history, but in their growth and flourishing under Roman rule they even outshone their illustrious predecessors. Most larger cities were laid out according to a regular grid plan, sometimes called a Hippodamian plan (Figure 27.2). It is often assumed that these layouts already existed in the Hellenistic period, but this is far from certain. The existence of Hellenistic predecessors for various Roman-period urban structures is often hypothesized, but rarely ever proven. This absence fits in with a long-recognized general poverty of material evidence for Hellenistic Syria that has not yet been explained satisfactorily (M. Sartre 2001, 31–33; Leriche 2003). Some Hellenistic remains have come to light in recent decades at Tetrapolis and Decapolis



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Figure 27.2  Walled surface and colonnaded streets of Syrian cities (to scale). © A.J.M. Kropp.

cities, but even there no predecessors for crucial Roman-period urban trappings such as colonnaded streets have so far been found (Burns 2017). In Palmyra, an early residential quarter dubbed the “Hellenistic city” was recently excavated along the wadi to the southwest of the city and outside the Roman city walls (Schmidt-Colinet and Al-As’ad 2013), but diagnostic finds have shown that little construction of note took place before Augustan times.

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Outside major urban centers, there are a few sites with substantial Hellenistic structures, such as the village Umm el-‘Amed in the Tyrian hinterland and two Hellenistic fortresses – one at Rās Ibn Hāni on the coast near Laodicea, excavated by a French team, the other at Jebel Khalid on the Euphrates, discovered by an Australian expedition. Recent excavations at the little frontier city of Dura-Europos on the Euphrates have shown that the construction of its grid plan, traditionally ascribed to its foundation around 300 bce, must now be redated to the mid-second century bce, when the city was under Parthian rather than Seleucid rule (Leriche 2003, 125–126) It remains a curious fact that so little is known about the cities of the Syrian heartland of the Seleucids, a dynasty that was famous for its many city foundations. Hence, the Roman remains are often isolated and detached from their historical context, and it is hard to trace cuts or continuities, or assess the contribution made in Roman times to the development of urban features such as grid plans or colonnaded streets. It is, however, important to note that most Hellenistic cities continued to be inhabited in the Roman period, and new cities were only rarely founded from scratch. One curious exception is Philippopolis (Shahba) in the Ḥaurān, the native village and pet project of the emperor Philip the Arab. Some cities never had a regular grid plan. Palmyra (Figure 27.3; see below) had at least three quarters with more or less rectangular plots of land running in parallel, but differing from each other in terms of size and alignment. The crooked colonnaded street in its western third separated a southern and a northern quarter; the third quarter was located around the central part of the colonnaded street. Though it cannot be confirmed with the available evidence, which dates to the second and third centuries, it is likely that this misalignment was due to the original existence of separate camps or hamlets that only grew together at a late stage in the urban development of Palmyra.

Figure 27.3  Palmyra, plan of the Roman city. © A.J.M. Kropp.



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Temples Any self-respecting Syrian city in Roman imperial times would have boasted a number of must-have urban trappings: monumental temples, colonnaded streets, arches, agoras, stoas, baths, theaters, and city walls with monumental gates. Temples were often the most elaborate and conspicuous landmarks in the cityscape, and their importance in the minds of the citizenry is underscored by the fact that temples were often the first major item of urban architecture a city sought to embellish and monumentalize, well before other urban features. The decades around the turn of our era witnessed the construction of some of the bestknown Graeco-Roman temples of the Near East. Herod the Great rebuilt the Temple in Jerusalem on a gigantic scale in the 20s bce. Soon after, Petra replied with the construction of the Qaṣr el-Bint (ca. 10 bce), Damascus with the Temple of Zeus (early first century ce), and Palmyra with the Temple of Bel (dedicated in April 32 ce). There are other major temples dating from this period: the temples of Zeus at Heliopolis (Baalbek) and Gerasa (Jerash), as well as the Temple of Baalshamin at Sī’ in the Ḥaurān (Kropp 2013, 262–301). To be precise, most of these were not new building projects, but refurbishments and enlargements of existing sanctuaries. As was the rule in the Near East, the cores of existing sanctuaries were preserved inside new shells. Some sanctuaries reached colossal proportions. Herod’s Temple boasted a precinct measuring a staggering 14.3 ha, the largest known in the ancient world. The porticoed precinct of the temple of Zeus at Damascus, now the Ummayad Mosque, measured 385 by 305 m, that of the temple of Bel at Palmyra 210 by 205 m. Most of these sanctuaries were set close to the main artery of the city as focal points in the urban fabric.Their large precincts also functioned as stages for the public and economic life of a city: markets and money-changers, as well as crowds of worshippers, must have been customary sights. This plurality of functions made central sanctuaries supreme venues for self-representation. Some of these projects were sponsored by regional dynasts, others by local urban aristocrats. Architecturally, Roman Near Eastern temples were inspired by Graeco-Roman models, as shown by the use of podia, columns, pediments, and architectural decoration, but they also shared a number of distinct features (Butcher 2003, 351–70; Ball 2016, 372–450). Chief among them was a designated holy of holies, known as the adyton, an elevated area at the back of the cella, often designed as a small shrine, which contained the cult image or object. Other recurrent features are an architectural emphasis on the precinct (sometimes subdivided into a series of sub-enclosures) and the altar, which could grow to monumental proportions; and a flat roof on the temple building proper, with staircases leading up to it. All of these features are “nonclassical” and hark back to pre-Hellenistic times. Rather than being subject to fashions, they owe their existence to specific requirements for the performance of religious rituals. But beyond these shared features, what is striking about Syrian temples of the late first century bce and early first century ce is their variety of forms and styles and heterodox architectural designs. The sanctuary of Bel at Palmyra, built on a cult site stretching back to the Bronze Age, may serve as an example (Figure 27.3). When the temple was dedicated in 32 ce, the porticoes framing the vast precinct on all four sides had not yet been constructed. The temple building proper was outwardly Greek: a peripteros with Corinthian columns of identifiable Hellenistic design and proportions, standing on a low krepis. The ground plan is almost identical to that of the temple of Artemis Leukophryene at Magnesia on the Maeander in Asia Minor, the work of the famous architect Hermogenes (late third to early second century bce). But on this classical plan a very different building was constructed. The elevated adyton at the northern side was accessed by a stairway. Entry to the cella was originally on the southern short side, as one would expect, but plans were changed during construction and a ramped approach through a monumental doorway was added to the western long side instead. This

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turned the building into a “broad-room” temple, a concept entirely alien to classical tastes, but the norm in Mesopotamia. The original southern entrance was replaced by a second adyton in addition to the one at the northern end, though the specific reasons for this arrangement, which has no parallels in the Roman Near East, is unclear. Both adyta had staircases that gave access to the flat roof, which was presumably used for cultic rituals. The roof had mock pediments at either end, as well as stepped merlons and towers at the four corners. The architectural decoration was basically Greek (column capitals, mouldings), but the details show free borrowing and adaptation of a variety of sources, with decorative ornaments in Hellenistic Mesopotamian style. Palmyra’s temple of Bel is but one, albeit very idiosyncratic, example. Across the Near East, whether one looks at the temple buildings proper or sanctuaries as a whole, local architects in this phase of monumentalization found new and inventive solutions in terms of plans, elevations, compositions, and architectural decoration.

The Urban Framework and Colonnaded Streets The idiosyncracy of temple architecture contrasts with other kinds of public buildings in Syrian cities, where there is a marked tendency toward homogeneity and standardization. Such public architecture generally started appearing several decades after the temples discussed above. The typical urban armature included structures such as baths, fountains, gymnasia, and basilicas, as well as arches, tetrapylons, and city walls, which will not be examined here (see Ball 2016, 294–357). The beating heart of an ideal Graeco-Roman city was the forum or agora, an open space at the city center for markets and public events, flanked by shops, temples, and civic buildings. In Syrian cities, the shape, size, and location of agoras can vary considerably; compared to the Greek heartland, they are often smaller and located more peripherally. The Antonine agora at Apamea measured 45 × 150 m and was tucked away behind the temple of Tyche, west of the colonnaded street (see below). At Palmyra (Figure 27.3), the agora was a small (70 × 50 m) self-enclosed space, at some distance south of the city’s main artery and boxed in by walls on all four sides. This was evidently not a crucial hub in the public life of this bustling caravan city. Here, as elsewhere in Syria, commercial activities, events, and public gatherings must have been spread over various locations across the city, especially the colonnaded streets and the main sanctuaries. One urban embellishment that stands out in this “second wave” of monumentalization is the colonnaded street, which seems to have been a Syrian specialty (Will 1989; Burns 2017). These colonnades stretching endlessly to the horizon are still a dominating feature among the ruins of the cities of Roman Syria. Usually one main road (cardo or decumanus maximus, not both) was enlarged and lined with colonnades on both sides that housed shops, sheltered pedestrians from the weather and provided a monumental backdrop to everyday activities. The overall effect of the colonnades is to harmonize the façades of buildings facing onto the street into one continuous prospect, thus turning a cacaphony of building fronts into one integral façade. The main street of Antioch was reputed to be more than 2 km long, and of those preserved, the widest and longest by far is at Apamea (Figure 27.2; 1.85 km long, 37.5 m wide at its widest point). Other notable examples are at Beroea (Aleppo), (1 km, 20–25 m), Bostra (900 m, 23 m), Cyrrhus (400+ m, 10+ m), Damascus (1.35  km, 26  m), and Laodicea (1.50  km, 7  m). One should expect such gigantic building projects to have taken years, if not decades, to complete. The colonnaded street of Palmyra (Figure 27.3; 1.2 km, 25 m) is one of the best-known examples, but it is also the one least integrated into the urban fabric. Some of the major monuments, such as the temple of Nebo, face away from the street and look southwest instead, to



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the wadi where excavations have recently uncovered the more ancient part of the city. The length of the colonnaded street runs from the Sanctuary of Bel to the northwestern side of the city, where it meets a perpendicular colonnaded street coming from the Damascus gate. At the crossroads stands, curiously, a monumental temple tomb, and there are further tombs behind, indicating that this was formerly the edge of the city before it was included in the city walls and the main road was built. The initial construction of the colonnaded street was probably started from here in the early second century ce. This first stretch of the street is 560 m long and its axis points southeast directly toward the temple of Bel on the opposite side of the city. It obviously proved impossible to build the road in one straight line, however, presumably because of existing buildings such as the temple of Nebo, dated to the late first century ce. Hence the road turns direction twice in order to reach the Bel sanctuary. The first joint between sections is marked by a tetrapylon, the second by a monumental arch with triangular ground plan. Dating these sections is still uncertain. The inscriptions on the statue bases and the unfinished state of many of the column bases suggest that work carried on well into the third century. Palmyra is therefore unusual in not having one straight axis traversing the entire city from one end to the other. The Palmyrenes instead modified and, in some instances, disrupted the existing urban fabric in order to piece together stretches of colonnaded street over the course of up to 150 years. This steady determination to carry it through, despite these adversities, gives an idea of how important it was for the city’s prestige to have such a monumental colonnaded thoroughfare. Of all the remains of colonnaded streets that have been studied, few date from before the early second century ce. At Apamea, the colonnade, which was partly restored but has since been badly damaged by shellfire in the civil war, is dated by the excavators to after a devastating earthquake in 115 ce. At Antioch too, the colonnaded street (36  m wide), much admired by Libanius and his contemporaries in the fourth century (Oration 11.204– 205), was probably built in the wake of the same disaster. Below its street level, some remains of an early imperial predecessor have been found (27.5 m wide), and deeper still traces of the Hellenistic road, which was, however, narrower, without columns and flanked by simple sidewalks. The early Roman version can be identified with the street mentioned twice by Malalas in his chronicle of the city of Antioch: first, in his account of the reign of Augustus, he wrote that Herod paved the street in honor of Augustus (223.17–19); then, describing the city under the next emperor, he ascribed the work to Tiberius (232.17– 233.9). Josephus only singled out Herod as the sponsor of this building project (Jewish War 1.425; Jewish Antiquities 16.148). However, it is possible that for such a large undertaking, both Herod and Tiberius made significant contributions. Either way, this would be a comparatively early date for this kind of embellishment, not only for Syria but for the Greek East at large. Even in Asia Minor there seem to be no examples of colonnaded streets before this time. The origin of the idea of lining the entire length of the main urban thoroughfare with double colonnades is still debated. Most scholars point to Hellenistic precedents, e.g., the South Agora of Miletus: the open square’s 190  m long eastern portico, built under Antiochos I (280–261 bce), flanked the south and north entrances to the square at its ends, and, importantly, contained thirty-nine shops. This is perhaps an embryonic form of the colonnaded street. But it should also be noted that colonnaded streets remained the exception outside the Near East down to the Roman period. Even in great cities like Pergamon or Ephesus, only short stretches of road were ever colonnaded. Hence, a Syrian origin looks likely. A different approach to this question was taken by Warwick Ball, in his effort to minimize the impact of Greece and Rome and emphasize eastern influence on the material culture of Roman Syria. In a chapter with the programmatic title “Imperial Veneer: Architecture and

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the Resurgence of the East,” Ball (2016, 310–326) argued that the colonnaded street was of quintessentially eastern inspiration. Its model, according to Ball, was the eastern market street or bazaar (sūq in Arabic), where thoroughfares are lined with shop stalls. He did not, however, account for the specific architectural form of Roman colonnaded streets, nor did he provide any evidence to turn the current state of research on its head and antedate the appearance of sūqs by many centuries so it could precede colonnaded streets. On the contrary, one can trace a reverse development, from the urban thoroughfares in late antique and Byzantine cities, with traffic lanes progressively encroached on by shops and stalls, toward the sūq of the Arab world, with its typically maze-like, compartmentalized structure. In his recent comprehensive study, Ross Burns (2017, 25–88) discussed the question of origins at length, but was rather agnostic about specific sources of inspiration, crediting instead a variety of far-flung, long-term architectural developments going back to Pharaonic times. To my mind, the traditional view still holds true: the colonnaded street was most likely inspired by the Greek stoa, an architectural element that was used very flexibly in the urban fabric of the Greek polis. At the end, what is important is that colonnaded streets are peculiar to Roman Syria and neighboring regions. The concept was not copied from outside models, but is a creative adaptation of modular elements borrowed from the vocabulary of Graeco-Roman urban architecture.

Spectacle and Assembly Buildings The many entertainment structures of the cities of Roman Syria hosted mimes and drama, athletic contests, chariot races, and animal hunts. Their purpose was not mere entertainment: In the theatres, stadiums and hippodromes, grand festivals celebrated the city, Greek culture, or Rome and the emperors. The buildings in which such events took place were also places in which the social order of the polis was affirmed. (Butcher 2003, 255)

The seating arrangement in these venues would articulate and at the same time reinforce the social order. Literary sources mention theaters at Damascus and Antioch in the Hellenistic period, but all the extant remains there and across Syria date to the Roman period. This dearth of evidence for theaters, as well as Greek cultural activities such as drama and athletic contests, before the Roman period is in stark contrast to Asia Minor, where fifty-nine Hellenistic theaters have been identified (Kropp 2013, 257–258). But eventually theaters became an indispensible urban trapping of Roman Syria. Apamea boasts the largest theater in the Roman world (cavea 139 m diam.), and Bostra (102 m) one of the best preserved ones. These theaters followed standard Roman design (semicircular in plan, rather than the horseshoe shape of Greek theaters), though in construction technique, they are almost always made of stone rather than brick, the material of choice in Rome and the West. Alongside theaters, many cities also had smaller theater-like buildings, so-called odea, which were probably roofed and could double up as both venue for cultural events (music or poetry recitals) and local council chambers (bouleuteria). Some of the more important cities also boasted hippodromes for chariot-racing (Antioch, Laodicea, Berytus, Tyre, Palmyra, Bostra). Amphitheaters for Roman-style gladiatorial shows and beast hunts were not very common in Syrian cities and appear to be associated with sizable Latin communities (Antioch and Berytus), but such events could have been staged in theaters and hippodromes instead.



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Summary The major cities of Roman Syria saw a building boom starting in the later first century and carrying on throughout the second. This was in part a reflection of the general prosperity of a region at peace that could profit from short- and long-distance trade. But the scale and lavishness of the architecture goes far beyond practical considerations. The explanations are rather to be sought in the social and cultural setup of these Hellenized poleis (see the brilliant analysis of Butcher 2003, 237–269). The cities were set up in such a way that their own revenue was insufficient to cover all their expenses and also finance public building. The local aristocracy was hence called on to act as sponsors for the public good. Elite citizens manifested their beneficence (euergesia) through buildings, games, festivals, teachers’ salaries, donations of grain, oil, or money. They could expect no material rewards for their generosity but instead were repaid with public honor, often statues or inscriptions set up in conspicuous public places, which would in turn confirm their high status. The citizen body of Palmyra found a particularly effective way of celebrating the city’s benefactors along the great colonnaded street. Honorific portrait statues were set on brackets that stuck out halfway up each column shaft. Such brackets were sometimes used at other sites (e.g., Apamea), but nowhere as often and consistently as at Palmyra. The honorific inscriptions to accompany these statues were usually written in both Greek and Palmyrene, either on the brackets or on the column shafts themselves. Elsewhere in Syria, honorific statues were set up on tall pedestals with Greek inscriptions, naming the honorand, extolling his virtues and spelling out his benefactions to the community. But it is curious that across Syria, despite the colossal wave of monumentalization, elite public building was less often accompanied by reciprocal public honors through inscriptions and statues than in Asia Minor (Butcher 2003, 288–289). Even a Roman colony like Heliopolis has only yielded a handful of such inscriptions. In less urbanized areas, the evidence is especially sparse. Of the two thousand Greek and Latin inscriptions recorded in southern Syria, only some twenty are in honor of benefactors! Be that as it may, the public sphere became an arena where the urban elite could show its commitment to the ideals of the Greek polis, while at the same time competing for glory with ever grander and more lavish construction projects covering the entire repertoire of urban trappings. But monumentalization was not only driven by competition between the elites within a city. As elsewhere in the Greek world, cities also vied with each other for titles, honors, and privileges, and they sought to outdo each other with grand urban embellishments. Such intercity rivalries can partly explain the clear trend toward uniformity of urban architecture. While the first major construction projects, the spectacular temples of the early first century ce, still had their local flavor and a knack for experimentation, the flurry of public buildings that came after largely adhered to standardized designs with little variation in their forms and typologies. The third century saw a slackening of construction activity in the cities of Roman Syria. This may have been partly due to saturation, as most cities now had a complete set of monumental buildings. But perhaps it also entailed a shift in ideology: while construction slowed down, the number of civic festivals appears to take off. This is at least what civic coinage suggests, which from the late second century shows a considerable increase in issues celebrating festivals, such as the Sacred Capitoline Games at Laodicea or the Actia Dusaria at Bostra. It is as yet unclear why the urban elite decided to turn its back on monumentalization and redirect its fortune in this way.

Tombs In Roman Syria, as elsewhere, tombs were built to commemorate the deceased and at the same time serve as markers of status and loci for rituals that affirm personal identity and social cohesion. Rather than sheer receptacles for burials, funerary monuments were therefore also

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media of communication, a fact that is amply demonstrated in Roman Syria by the existence of monuments dissociated from burial contexts. These cenotaphs and nefesh were set up, as spelled out in accompanying inscriptions, “in remembrance of (the deceased X).” The sphere of the living is normally separated from the sphere of the dead; in the Graeco-Roman world, city dwellers generally buried their dead in cemeteries beyond the city walls. But in some rural areas of southern Syria, this separation was not always maintained. Among the rich corpus of funerary inscriptions from the Ḥaurān, almost all in Greek, there are some epitaphs that specify the location of the burial; of these at least five speak of tombs erected in domestic contexts (Sartre-Fauriat 2001, II 19–20). Others call the tomb itself oikos or domos, “house” (Sartre-Fauriat 2001, II 30–31, nine examples), or attest to the simultaneous, side by side construction of both house and tomb. This is borne out by the archaeological remains of at least three instances of houses built right beside tombs, at Rīmet al-Loḥf, Majdal and ‘Atamān (Sartre-Fauriat 2001, II 20). There are precedents from Bronze Age Syria for this peculiar custom, from sites such as Ugarit, where the dead were buried in stone vaults under houses within the city. The inhabitants of the Roman Ḥaurān were evidently perpetuating an ancient Semitic tradition of physical proximity to the departed, a custom that was anathema to Graeco-Roman norms. Funerary architecture in Roman Syria shows the full range of variations known in the ancient world (A. Sartre 1989, 423–431; de Jong 2017, 2021). Different kinds of structures often coexisted in the same necropolis. The so-called mixed class described by Annie Sartre (1989, 431–436) consist of underground burials with some structure above ground as a marker. These markers could be single columns or pillars, stelae, obelisks, sarcophagus lids or, more rarely, tumuli. Most tombs were carved into the soil without structures above the surface, either as individual pits or family hypogea with loculi or arcosolia. Even some wealthy individuals chose to be buried in simple pit tombs, as shown by excavations of Emesa’s western necropolis Tell Abu Sabun, which has yielded high-quality jewelry and precious objects (Konrad 2014, 2017). Tombs were often shared by family members, but in Palmyra some hypogea were shared by unrelated individuals who could buy or rent burial space. The best-known case is the so-called Tomb of the Three Brothers, famous for its superb wall paintings (Eristov et al. 2019). Burial inside monuments entirely above ground is the category that shows the greatest local and individual variety and was most subject to changes over time (A. Sartre 1989, 436–445). The grander examples include tower tombs, temple tombs (only from the second century onward), and mausolea with pyramidal roofs (infrequent before the fourth century). The important group of tower-tombs is common in only a few regions of inner Syria between the Euphrates and the Ḥaurān (Sartre-Fauriat 2001, II 66–69). The earliest tower tombs of Palmyra, of the later first century bce, were constructed in small, roughly worked fieldstones laid in irregular courses, and lack any decoration or inscriptions. What distinguishes them is their location, on solitary hilltops far (up to 2 km) to the west of the city, dominating the landscape and making a great visual impression on the traveler. It was only around the beginning of our era that tower tombs were built closer to the city and adorned with mouldings, decoration and inscriptions. Interior decoration – including funerary portraits, stucco reliefs, and wall paintings – soon followed. In Palmyra, the tower-tombs that still predominate in the necropoleis (180 out of 250 monuments) were an early phenomenon, and came to an almost complete halt at the end of the first century, when hypogea took over (Schmidt-Colinet 1989, 447–448, table on 452; Henning 2013); the tradition seems to have continued later in the Ḥaurān and on the Euphrates. Though inhumation was the predominant form of burial in Roman Syria, there is also evidence for cremation and, in the cemeteries of Sidon and Tyre, even the use of ossuaries. Larger, communal tombs show different solutions to the problem of holding large numbers of bodies. Many Palmyrene tombs had loculi arranged like shelves, with the bodies



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inserted lengthwise into the wall. With this economical method, hundreds of dead could be housed inside tombs. The square openings of individual loculi were often covered with slabs bearing portraits of the deceased. A visitor to the tomb would hence be faced with vast portrait galleries spanning generations of family members.

Rural Life: Ḥaurān Agriculture flourished in Roman Syria, in particular olive cultivation in the north between Apamea and Antioch, and grain and wine production in the Ḥaurān in the south (Ruffing 2021). The Roman Ḥaurān, one of the few rural areas of Syria yet studied in any depth, was a world of villages (Dentzer 1985–86; Rohmer 2020). The uplands around Jebel Druze were called Auranitis and offered excellent conditions for agriculture, in particular viticulture. To the north lay the volcanic desert of Trachonitis, which had some pockets of fertile lands in the depressions. To the west is the wide plain of Batanaea, which gently slopes toward the Yarmūk River in the west. The Ḥaurān was divided between the provinces of Syria and Arabia, although the border between the two shifted a number of times. In the early imperial period, the only cities in this area were Canatha (Qanawāt) in Auranitis and two cities at the southern edge of Batanaea, Bostra (Boṣrā), and Adraa (Der‘ā). A large number of villages were apparently not integrated into the territory of any city and counted instead as self-sufficient administrative entities (metrokomiai), a highly unusual arrangement. Their material culture offers illuminating contrasts to the urban centers discussed above. At the same time, their rich epigraphic corpus gives an unusually detailed insight into their social and economic organization, as well as common ownership and land management. The villages had no formal layout or road network. The houses were scattered more or less haphazardly with irregular gaps in between (see contributions in Clauss-Balty 2008). As in other rural areas of Syria, the ground floor of most houses was reserved for economic activity, including storage and livestock, while the living quarters were upstairs. What they shared with their urban counterparts was introversion: most homes had few openings to the outside world, being organized around a central courtyard instead. As the region is poor in wood, the houses had flat roofs with basalt slabs for beams, often reinforced by arches or corbels. The roofs could be accessed via external stairways and were used for drying grain or other crops. Houses in the Ḥaurān show considerable variety in size and ostentation, unlike the villages of northern Syria. Larger houses were made of neatly dressed ashlar masonry and could include extra features such as further rooms on the ground floor or a colonnaded courtyard. One type of ground floor room, an arched alcove, is recurrent among these grander houses and may have been used for representative purposes. The villages were surrounded by a “green belt” of small garden plots, beyond which lay open fields. Some field systems can be dated to pre-Roman times (see contributions by Gentelle and Villeneuve in Dentzer 1985–86). Thus, a straight Roman road dated to the end of the first century ce that ran between Dionysias (Suwaydā) and Sī’ cut right across an irregular pattern of fields, showing that the field demarcation system must have been first century or earlier. Roman-period field systems are still visible in many places as regular elongated strips, sometimes aligned with Roman roads. A good example is the area of Burd, 5 km east of Bostra. Parallel to a Roman road running roughly east–west, elongated rectangular strips were laid out to measure 250 by 70 m, making a surface of 1.75 ha, which may correspond to seven Roman iugera. The regularity of the layout suggests that this was formerly uncultivated land. The road is epigraphically dated to the mid-second century ce, and the land was perhaps parceled out soon after. This may have been at the behest of Roman authorities, as a Lex Hadriana de rudibus agris incentivized the use of land that had been unsettled at about

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that time. More extensive parcellation occurred on the eastern slopes of Auranitis at the edge of the desert. In the area around Imtān, this may be connected with the settlement of Roman veterans. Though field systems are very hard to date, inscriptions suggest two main phases of demarcation: from the late third to the early fifth century, and from the early sixth to the early seventh (Butcher 2003, 159, 168–169). The open plains were probably used for grain production. Though grape and olive were more valuable crops, they could grow where grain could not, for instance in stony highland areas. This distribution of crops is confirmed by the occurrence of large numbers of oil and wine presses in the highlands of Auranitis, especially around Canatha, where the slopes show extensive terracing. Surveys to the east of Sī’ show that the terraces were subdivided into smaller plots by walls running perpendicular to the slope. In other words, properties were not allocated terrace by terrace, but each individual property consisted of an elongated strip of land running down the slopes and including bits of each terrace it covered.

Rural Temples: Lebanon The study of village life in the deep hinterland of the Phoenician Coast, an area that roughly corresponds to modern Lebanon, is still in its early stages (Figure 27.4). But one aspect, at least, is already well documented by epigraphic and archaeological evidence: its religious life. This material was the basis for Julien Aliquot’s excellent (2009) monograph on the local cults of Lebanon under Roman rule, covering Mt. Lebanon and the Beqa‘, as well as the Antilebanon, Qalamūn, and Hermon areas (Kropp 2010; Paturel 2019; Aliquot 2021). Aliquot showed that this countryside, with very few cities except for Heliopolis and Paneas and often considered a cultural backwater with immutable age-old cults, was in fact a world of vibrant communities closely tied to surrounding cultures such as those of the Phoenician cities and Damascus, and more widely to Rome and the Greek world. Most important for this chapter is the striking number of monumental temple buildings in this area. At the start of the twentieth century, members of the German archaeological mission at Baalbek undertook the first, and so far only, architectural survey in the area (Krencker and Zschietzschmann 1938). Since then, the material basis has doubled, with a staggering 120 attested cult sites, the highest density in the Near East (Figure  27.4). The concentration is particularly high in the northern part of Mt. Lebanon and in the southeast around Mt. Hermon. The Beqa’ Valley is rather poor in sites, with sanctuaries mainly on the foothills at the eastern and western margins of the plain. Altitude was a crucial factor. Most cult sites sat at a level of either 0–600  m or 1000–1600  m a.s.l., but significantly not in between, at 600–1000 m, where most of the agricultural land lies. These data make a very plausible case for the connection between cult sites, water and fertile soil, and thus ultimately with village economy. As for the architecture of Lebanon’s “Roman” temples, the typology as established by Krencker and Zschietzschmann is still valid, though Aliquot made important corrections to their chronology (see also Nordiguian 2005). The fifty-six temples whose plans are known fall into three main types (Figure 27.5): prostyle, distyle in antis, and the more ostentatious peripteros. Tetrastyle prostyle temples (twenty-one examples) are predominant on the western and eastern flanks of Mt. Lebanon. The more modest distyle in antis temples (eighteen examples) are concentrated on Mt. Hermon, while peripteroi (thirteen examples) are large and less frequent monuments. There is thus some regional differentiation and local preferences for what were essentially Roman models. The deeply Romanized temple architecture of Lebanon testifies to the enormous impact made by the colossal building programme at Heliopolis, which was probably begun in Augustan times (Kropp and Lohmann 2011; Lohmann 2017).



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Figure 27.4  Distribution of cult sites in Lebanon. From Aliquot 2009, courtesy J. Aliquot.

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Figure 27.5  The three main types of Lebanese temples (to scale): Peripteros (Baalbek, Temple of Bacchus); Tetrastyle prostyle (Nīḥa, Temple A); Distyle in antis (Hibbariyeh). © A.J.M. Kropp, from Ragette 1980, frontispiece; Krencker and Zschietzschmann 1938, pls. 117–118.

The Near Eastern architectural specialty shared by all these temples was the holy of holies, the elevated adyton platform at the back of the cella, usually carrying a baldachin construction. The adyton often appears as an independent structure, a building within a building. The towns and villages of the Lebanese countryside in the Roman period built their temples as communal efforts. They were run by local notables and frequented by local worshippers. For a great number of these communities, their temples were prestige projects, the largest and most expensive public building they ever undertook (Butcher 2017). The explosion of temple construction in the first three centuries of our era is an impressive testimony of a prosperous agricultural population with the means and determination to monumentalize and “modernize” local cults. As these communities grew, they looked to the double Roman veteran colonies Berytus and Heliopolis as models for articulating their own local culture and identity.



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Conclusion Judging by both the expansion of settlement into hitherto unsettled steppes and highlands, and the explosion of construction work on an unprecedented scale, the Roman period must be considered a time of prosperity for Syria. This expansion was made possible by the relative peace and stability of the Roman world order. The monumentalization of the Syrian cities, however, cannot be explained by material wealth alone. Hellenism made a massive impact in particular on the urban culture of Roman Syria. Greek was the language of almost all the writers originating in this region, and the language of the large majority of the inscriptions. The material culture, too, especially in urbanized areas, was deeply imbued with Hellenism, from images of deities to column capitals to temple layouts. While this is beyond dispute, there are different opinions on how to assess this development (Kropp 2013, 338–341). Some scholars ascribe little meaning to what they consider mere externalities, seeing the Greek names and appearance of local gods, for example, as a new façade on ancient deities, a veneer that left the true nature of the gods unaffected. Others give more weight to such Graeco-Roman trappings, as carriers of meanings. Butcher (2003, 274) asserted that “Hellenism can hardly be regarded as a superficial ‘veneer’ … it dominated the elite system of values.” In this view, classical art and architecture were expressions of elite education, consonant with the intellectual current of the Second Sophistic. I concur with Butcher’s insistence on taking Hellenization seriously as a social and political phenomenon. But one should not forget that our current picture of Roman Syria is heavily conditioned by our limited knowledge of its material culture. Our knowledge is heavily tilted toward urban centers, and within these centers, toward the sphere of public monuments. It is here that Hellenism is most visible. Meanwhile, as outlined above, much of the Syrian countryside remains terra incognita. From what little is known, one should expect a great variety of ways of negotiating local traditions with “modern” and elite Graeco-Roman culture. While people in rural areas like Mt. Lebanon and Mt. Hermon constructed monumental temples that emulated the nearby large-scale Roman examples at Heliopolis, those in an area like the Ḥaurān spoke a very different material language. Until at least the later second century, the Ḥaurān was a cultural “pocket” barely affected by Hellenism, drawing instead on its own repertoire of ancient models for arts and crafts, rooted in Bronze Age culture (Dentzer 2003, 193–195). Late “Hellenistic” monuments in the Ḥaurān owe practically nothing to the architectural tradition of the Hellenistic Mediterranean, in technique, programs, or decoration (“ne doivent pratiquement rien à la tradition architecturale de la Méditerranée hellénistique ni pour la technique, ni pour les programmes, ni pour le décor” – Dentzer 2003, 186). The local Roman-period pottery, too, might be dated to the Bronze Age by archaeologists, were it not for the fact that it was found together with Ephesian lamps, which provided chronological fixed points. The black basalt sculpture from the Ḥaurān has its own distinct repertoire (Bolelli 1986; Dentzer 2003, 187–204; 2007, 37–43). While much of the iconography represents, somewhat awkwardly, Classical figures like Nike, Athena, or Dionysos, many of the motifs are unknown in Greek art – for instance, images of eagles flanked by small figures holding grapes. In terms of style, human anatomy is often disregarded in favour of stereotypical shapes for hair, lips, ears, dresses, and so forth. Iconographic formulas, such as the representation of lips as a coil with an incision in the center, or almond-shaped, bulging eyes framed by deeply cut lids, find their closest parallels in Neo-Hittite and Assyrian art. Meanwhile, in monumental architecture, the carpet-like architectural ornament with peopled scrolls and vines finds close parallels in Hellenistic Mesopotamia. From our limited perspective, the Ḥaurān stands out from neighbouring regions with this extraordinary artistic heritage. But this may well be an accident of survival. Little-known stray finds of local sculpture

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from Damascus, Ḥoms, Ḥamā, and especially Ḥarbata near Heliopolis suggest that beyond the Hellenized polis, Roman Syria was originally a rich tapestry of local cultures that is now either lost or still waiting to be recovered. The study of Roman Syria is still in its early stages. What is known so far about its material culture shows that this eastern province holds great promise for outstanding contributions to our understanding of the manifold ways in which local communities constructed their identities by negotiating local traditions with the influx of cultures from East and West. But the horror that is present-day Syria leaves little room for promise or optimism. Scholarly efforts such as this one feel woefully inadequate in the face of the catastrophe that continues to unfold in this war-torn country. It is, in the first place, a humanitarian disaster of unimaginable proportions; it has also given rise to a modern-day version of iconoclasm of a ferocity not seen in living memory. The images and monuments of millennia of past civilizations are attacked and destroyed in an attempt to erase the ancient history of humanity altogether. To be clear, none of this compares even remotely to the human suffering of millions of Syrians caught up in this conflict. Nonetheless, the destruction of Syria’s cultural heritage has profound implications, for a world without history is a world without the possibility to learn from the past and thus to understand human life itself. My contribution can do very little to help. The best it can do is to continue to shine a light on a unique heritage in peril and to raise awareness of what is under threat of annihilation in the world in which we live.

Biographical Note Andreas J. M. Kropp is assistant professor at the Department of Classics and Archaeology, University of Nottingham. He has done extensive fieldwork in Petra, Baalbek, and the Ḥaurān. His research focuses on Roman Near Eastern coins, client kings, and cult images. He is the author of Images and monuments of Near Eastern dynasts, 100 bce–ce 100 (2013).

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CHAPTER 28

Cyprus Jody M. Gordon

Introducing an Island Province Cyprus is the third largest island in the Mediterranean Sea, and its sea-girt location has historically allowed Cypriots to maintain strong connections to Anatolia, the Levant, the Aegean, and Egypt. Although Cato the Younger initially annexed the island in 58 bce, it was Augustus’ defeat of Antony and Cleopatra that resulted in Cyprus’s transformation into a senatorial province distinct from Cilicia and Syria. For nearly three hundred years, Cyprus remained connected to imperial economic and cultural systems, but by the early fourth century ce, the transfer of the imperial capital to Constantinople changed Cypriots’ cultural connections and fostered a transition from paganism to Christianity. This chapter focuses on “early” Roman Cyprus, ca. 30–330 ce (Michaelides 1990, 110), as opposed to late Roman (ca. 330–630 ce; Davis and Stewart 2014), when a new social and economic era emerged that was only halted by the Arab raids of the seventh century (Zavagno 2017, 1). Cyprus’s archeology has rarely featured within the mainstream of Roman studies because it has often been erroneously viewed as a backwater province without history (Hill 1972, 244; Mitford 1980, 1346). The roots of this misunderstanding can be revealed through a brief examination of the history of study of the island. The first phase of research followed the collecting escapades of Luigi Palma di Cesnola, who brought hundreds of unprovenanced artifacts from Ottoman Cyprus to the Metropolitan Museum in New York in the 1870s (Karageorghis 2000, 3–15), with duplicate artifacts dispersed to other American museums over time (Lightfoot 2017). By the 1880s, the British authorities who then controlled Cyprus initiated a more methodical, quasi-archaeological approach (Ulbrich 2012): the Cyprus Exploration Fund’s members excavated several sites, including Salamis and Palaipaphos, publishing in the Journal of Hellenic Studies (Hogarth 1889; Munro, Tubbs, and Wroth 1891). Many artifacts ended up in the recently founded Cyprus Museum, the British Museum, or one of the major British university collections. In 1912, the French scholar Victor Chapot drew on historical sources, epigraphy, numismatics, and archeological remains to produce Les Romains et Chypre, one of the first studies of the Roman province (Chapot 1912). In

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sum, phase one of research involved treasure hunting, the acquisition of objects by the British to show their imperial power, and Chapot’s views of the island as an interesting, yet provincial place. At the same time, John L. Myre’s work cataloging the Cesnola and Cyprus Museum collections began to categorize Roman materials into key artifact types and styles (Myres and OhnefalschRichter 1899; Myres 1914). With the island still under British rule in 1927, the Swedish Cyprus Expedition inaugurated a more scientific era of archaeological research (Göransson 2012). Einar Gjerstad’s team excavated important Roman sites, such as Soloi-Cholades (Westholm 1936), and Vessberg and Westholm (1956) established the key chronological and stylistic parameters for Roman Cyprus’s material culture. During this phase, the Cypriot Department of Antiquities was founded, and first led by A. H. S. Megaw (Davis and Stewart 2014, 20–21); T. B. Mitford began to publish his voluminous studies of Roman Cypriot Greek epigraphy, Sir George Hill penned a synthesis on Roman Cyprus in his History of Cyprus, Hector Catling began his extensive surveys of the island’s archaeological landscapes, and Bert Hodge Hill and George McFadden started to excavate at Kourion (Mitford 1950; Hill 1972; Cadogan 2004; Soren 1987). Cypriot archeology became more scientific, but the interpretation of the Roman era was still influenced by colonialist philological notions of Roman domination over a backwater whose people produced a merely imitative imperial culture. Phase three of research on Roman Cyprus stemmed from the postcolonial reaction to Cyprus’s independence from Britain in 1960. In 1963, Vassos Karageorghis was appointed director of the Department of Antiquities, and for the next quarter century, he would dedicate his life to the excavation, protection, and publication of Cypriot sites of all periods (Karageorghis 2007). Karageorghis’s key contributions to Roman Cypriot studies were his excavation of the gymnasium, theater, and bath complex at Salamis, a synthesis of the archaeology of the Paphos region, and a series of international museum catalogs (Karageorghis 1964, 1999; Maier and Karageorghis 1984). Under Karageorghis’ directorship, foreign missions (e.g., French, Canadian, Polish, Italian, American) were invited to explore Roman sites, including Salamis, Soloi, Polis, Nea Paphos, Palaipaphos, Kourion, Amathus, and Kition. While these studies explored Cypriots’ material contributions to Roman culture, the Greek archeological features of earlier periods were often promoted within the context of the emerging “Cyprus problem,” an ethno-religious conflict between the island’s Greek-speaking Orthodox majority and its Turkish-speaking Muslim minority, fanned by the British colonial administration and still – unfortunately – persisting today (Knapp and Antoniadou 1998; Leriou 2007; Gordon 2012b). Following the Greek coup d’état and Turkish invasion of 1974, Cyprus’s northern third became inaccessible to research, so the Department of Antiquities refocused excavations on sites in the southern two-thirds of the island, where resettled communities began to rebuild the Republic’s economy and society. From 1974 to 2004, Roman urban sites excavated included Nea Paphos, Kourion, Amathus, and rescue excavations at Polis, Kition, and Nicosia. Survey archaeology also blossomed, providing novel insights on settlement patterns, especially within the Cypriot interior. Some of the Hellenizing resistance narratives originally constructed during the early postcolonial era continued, but as processual approaches gave way to postprocessual theory in the 1980s, a new perspective emerged that viewed Roman material as the product of Cyprus’s distinct geo-history and Cypriots’ notions of their insularity (Michaelides 1990; Potter 2000; Christodoulou 2018). Specialist studies of ceramics, coins (Amandry 1993; Parks 2004), mosaics, architecture, ports, and rural sites also increased. With Cyprus’s entry into the European Union in 2004, albeit as a defacto divided island with one internationally recognized government in the south, a fourth phase of interpretation of Roman Cypriot archeology has arguably emerged. Synthetic scientific analyses as well as excavations and landscape studies informed by postprocessual and globalizing questions have altered the way scholars view Roman Cyprus (Gordon 2012b; Papantoniou 2020).

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Studies of identity, climate and environment, cross-cultural connectivity, and negotiation are at the forefront of research (Vionis and Papantoniou 2019; Gordon and Caraher 2020). Roman Cyprus can no longer be written off as somnolent and disconnected from wider Roman society. Scholars who have studied the longue durée or have employed a “Cyprocentric” approach have shown that Cypriots were clearly connected to both regional and pan-Mediterranean trade routes and that these “globalizing” connections resulted in the creation of a unique Roman provincial culture affected by local notions of insularity (Kaldeli 2009; Lund 2015; Gordon 2016, 2018a; Papantoniou 2020). The remaining sections of this chapter will explore how such an identity can be revealed via Roman Cyprus’s geography, history, and material remains.

Insularity and Connectivity, Geography and Resources At 9251 sq. km, Cyprus is the third largest Mediterranean island (Figure 28.1; Karageorghis 1982, 12). It has two mountain ranges, the Troodos Massif (nearly 2000 m high) in the west and the Kyrenia range in the northeast. The Mesaoria Plain, which was once watered by the Yialias and the Pedaios rivers, dominates the island’s eastern third. Cyprus’s key natural resource was copper from the Troodos foothills, used both for local production of bronze tools, weapons, and coins, and as an export (Kassianidou 2000). A second resource was Troodos timber for the shipbuilding industry. Limestone (all marble in Cyprus is imported)

Figure 28.1  Map of Cyprus showing key geographical features and ancient cities in the Early Roman period. Created by and used with the permission of Brandon Olson.



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for building or sculpting and clays for local and export-oriented pottery industries were also natural assets. Recent studies suggest that Cyprus’s Roman era climate was optimal for agricultural production, rather than marginal, as it was in other eras (Harper 2019); the Mesaoria’s products of grain, olive oil, and wine were sought-after exports, along with medicinal plants, honey, salt, and flax (Strabo, Geography 14.6.5; Michaelides 1996). Linked with Cyprus’s strategic location between Alexandria and Rome and the empire’s protection of maritime commerce, these resources seems to have given Cyprus an export economy that fostered economic and demographic expansion (Potter 2000). The island was most valuable to outside cultures either when it possessed a key resource or resided on a political fault line (Hauben 1987). Hence, Cypriot lifeways have often been influenced by external groups’ interest in Cyprus’s natural resources or strategic location, as well as its own insular cultural practices (Iacovou 2013). These influences would continue to help construct Cypriot identities at the nexus of imperial and insular forces.

Cyprus Before Rome A summary of Cyprus’s longue durée provides the deep cultural scaffolding required to understand later Cypriot attitudes to Rome. Following Neolithic migrations, Cyprus entered the “world stage” of the eastern Mediterranean during the Late Bronze Age (Knapp 2013). The export of copper led to development of coastal polities and perhaps even a larger state (known as Alashiya in Ugaritic and Egyptian texts) that established economic and cultural connections to the Aegean, the Levant, and Egypt. The subsequent Cypro-Geometric period reveals evidence for the Greek language in the local Cypro-syllabic script, together with local EteoCypriot (Iacovou 2006), while a Phoenician colony was established at Kition. By the CyproArchaic period, city-kingdoms or poleis were established: kings oversaw a polis’s territory and resources. Archaic cemeteries reveal social hierarchies and micro-regional material trends, while sanctuaries have produced limestone and terracotta votive statues in a hybridizing style (Janes 2013; Counts 2008). Most of these city-kingdoms were located on the coasts, though connected to interior resources, and these liminal locations would persist into the Roman era. Cyprus was integrated into the Assyrian, the Egyptian, and then the Persian empire over the Archaic and Classical periods (Reyes 1994). During the fourth and third centuries bce, Attic-style funerary stelae, coins with Greek deities, and use of Greek script reveal an increasing identification with Hellenic culture in Cyprus (Maier and Karageorghis 1984, 124). This connection was underscored when the Greek kings joined Alexander the Great’s fleet, and later when the Egyptian Ptolemies conquered the island. Under Ptolemaic rule, the Cypriot kings were eliminated, Greek-speaking mercenaries patrolled Cyprus’s ports, and a religious and political strategos ruled from the new capital of Nea Paphos (Keen 2012). The Cypro-syllabic script gradually died out, and Greek became the local language and script. Ptolemaic coinage was minted on the island in bronze, silver, and gold. Traditional practices went on in rural sanctuaries, but the artistic style of the Ptolemaic court influenced limestone sculpture, and suggests the existence of royal cult (Papantoniou 2012).

Cyprus and Rome Cyprus entered Rome’s sphere during the mid-second century bce, when the Roman Senate became concerned with Ptolemaic dynastic politics, Mithridates VI of Pontus’ expansionism, and Cilician piracy (Mitford 1980; Potter 2000). Rome was frequently involved in adjudicating between rival claimants to the Egyptian throne and even had to rescue Alexandria and Cyprus from

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Antiochus IV in 168 bce. By 63 bce, although it remained independent under Rome’s ally, King Ptolemy of Cyprus, Roman protectorates surrounded the island, and the king of Egypt, Ptolemy XII, was in debt to Rome (Hölbl 2001). It was a Roman political dispute that led to the island’s takeover (Calvelli 2020). In 59 bce, Julius Caesar facilitated Publius Clodius Pulcher’s conversion to plebian status and election as a tribune. Clodius legislated for his political enemy Cato the Younger to be sent off to annex Cyprus from King Ptolemy, who was offered the priesthood of Aphrodite in exchange; the king chose to commit suicide instead, so in 58 bce Cyprus became a Roman territory. Cypriots may have welcomed the change, since Cassius Dio (39.22.1) wrote that they wanted to be treated as “friends and allies.” At first, Cyprus was attached to the province Cilicia, so Cicero briefly administered the island as proconsul in 51/50 bce (Mitford 1980). With Caesar’s victory in the civil war in 48 bce, Cyprus was returned to the Ptolemaic queen of Egypt, Cleopatra VII, but came back into Roman possession in 30 bce after Octavian’s conquest of Egypt. Initially, Augustus’ legates governed the island, but in 22 bce, Cyprus was transferred to senatorial control, likely due to its sea-girt nature (Michaelides 1990, 112). From that point to 293 ce, the province of Cyprus entered a period of what Mitford (1980, 1296) referred to as “tranquil obscurity.” St. Paul’s encounter with the proconsul L. Sergius Paulus (Acts 13: 1–12) and the future emperor Titus’s visit to Palaipaphos (Tacitus, Histories 2.2–3; Suetonius, Titus 5) were notable historical events; Trajan and Hadrian may have also visited Cyprus, but evidence is inconclusive. Other historical mentions are limited to earthquakes, uprisings (especially the Jewish Diaspora Revolt at Salamis, described by Cassius Dio 68.32.1–3), and invasions. The event that ended Cyprus’s early Roman phase was Diocletian’s placing it in the Diocese of the East in 293 ce (Lo Cascio 2005, 180).

Political and Economic Organization The historical narrative often portrays Cypriots as passively living under Roman rule, while Rome administered the island lightly due to its lack of strategic importance. Inscriptions shed light on how Cyprus was governed (Potter 2000; Hussein 2021). At the top of the hierarchy was the annual proconsul, selected by lot; about fifty are known by name. These individuals were of senatorial rank and often held power early in their careers. The proconsul was based in the provincial capital Nea Paphos, but also dispensed justice in the province’s three other conventus centers: Salamis, Amathus, and Lapithus (Michaelides 1990). He oversaw building projects, was in charge of civic expenditures (along with curators), appointed officials to civic offices, acted as the imperial cult representative, and maintained public order by commanding a proconsular cohort (Mitford 1990; Potter 2000). One cohort, the VII Breucorum, is known from the Mesaoria; additional troops were likely sent to Cyprus during upheavals, such as the diaspora revolt in 117 ce (Mitford 1980). A legionary seal of the XV Legion Apollonaris was found at the House of Theseus in Nea Paphos, and it also appears that Cypriots joined the Roman army (Embassy of the Republic of Poland in Nicosia 2015; Bekker-Nielsen 2002). Besides these remains, however, there is little evidence for military occupation. Civic officials, hipparchoi, one of whom is known at Soloi, likely kept the peace (Mitford 1980). Most cities had a boule or city council and a demos of citizens, led by archons. Other civic officials included censors, secretaries, treasurers, and market officials (Michaelides 1990, 116). A city’s cultural life was led by elite gymnasiarchs, ephebarchs, or agonothetai, and each city provided representatives for the koinon Kyprion, the league of Cypriot cities, entrusted with the imperial cult (Fujii 2013). Some elite citizens became ambassadors to the emperor. There is little evidence for Cypriots attaining Roman citizenship or entering the equestrian



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levels of the imperial administration, likely due to a lack of contact with influential Roman officials (Potter 2000; Hussein 2021). Instead, wealthy Cypriots seem to have focused their ambitions on civic politics and participation in the imperial cult. Cypriot elite citizens likely derived local power through growth of agricultural products on their landholdings near port cities, and the seaborne trade of these goods. Connecting to maritime networks through the gateway ports of Nea Paphos and Salamis, they were able to find markets for their wine, olive oil, grain, or ceramics, and could even travel to Rome itself (Tacitus, Annals 3.62; Gordon 2018b). Export-oriented development may have led to a local population increase, which might also have buoyed the internal provincial economy (Potter 2000). This is evident through the creation of dendritic connections from the central place ports to the Cypriot hinterland, where a range of villages – known from archaeological surveys and limited excavations – likely supported agricultural labor and industrial processing (Rupp 1997). Overall, it seems that Cyprus’s nature as a connected island and its relative inconsequence to imperial strategies gave Cypriots the political leeway and economic ability to create a distinctly insular provincial identity that can be seen in many aspects of the island’s archaeological remains, which will now be addressed.

The Outward-Facing Island: Coasts, Ports and Ships As an island province, Cyprus’s maritime connectivity in the proto-globalized Roman Mediterranean promoted new modes of cross-cultural interaction, entangling both Cypriots and non-Cypriots in novel economic and social relationships (Kaldeli 2009; Leidwanger 2014a, 2014b; Gordon 2018b). These relationships depended on Rome’s ability to protect seaborne commerce as well as the empire’s evolving interests in Cyprus’s ports, culture, and resources. Roman Cyprus’s archaeology is the result of Cypriots’ active engagement with agents and materials shaped by maritime economic and cultural networks. Since these entanglements critically occurred in coastal sites – on ships and in ports – a coastal archaeology of Roman Cyprus offers an effective starting point for exploring the province’s material culture (Gordon 2018a). When ancient writers described Cyprus, they envisioned the island through its ports and islandscapes (Figure 28.2). Strabo (Geography 14.6), for example, offered a periplus from a ship’s deck perspective, mentioning Cyprus’s key seamarks and port cities, while Ammianus Marcellinus (14.8.14) referred to the island as “portuosa” and suggested that boats were locally built from mast to keel. Although few early Roman shipwrecks have been found off Cyprus, the early Roman period is one of the high points for shipwreck evidence Mediterranean-wide (Wilson 2011), and overseas imports found on the island indicate that ships must have made this a regular stop, much as the late Classical wrecks discovered at Kyrenia and Mazotos did (Katzev and Swiny 2021; Demesticha, Skarlatos, and Neophytou 2014). Cyprus’s coastal archaeology has been transformed over the last three decades (James et al. 2020): Leonard (2005) cataloged all the known anchorages and port sites, while Leidwanger (2011, 2014a, 2014b, 2020) has undertaken surveys, excavations, and synthetic studies of the nature of Cyprus’s role within eastern Mediterranean trade. Leidwanger’s (2013) analysis of the second century ce Fig Tree Bay wreck is particularly noteworthy. Studies of coastal urbanization have also revealed how Cyprus’s ports served as central places. Rupp’s (1997) study of economic and demographic expansion at Nea Paphos and Salamis shows an increase in urban and suburban development during the first century ce. Balandier (2017), and Misžk and Papuci-Władyka (2016) have all considered how long Nea Paphos’ harbors functioned and how trade transformed the city’s economic core. Kaldeli (2009) has highlighted Nea Paphos’ trade connections to the Western Mediterranean. Caraher, Moore, and

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Figure 28.2  A Cypriot islandscape: inlets and bays along the northern coast looking from Chrysochou Bay towards Cape Akamas, the island’s farthest northwestern point. Photo by Jody M. Gordon.

Pettegrew (2014) have measured the increase in material finds at Pyla-Koutsopetria, while James et al. (2020) have recorded the expansion of Dreamer’s Bay on the Akrotiri peninsula. Remains of built harbor installations have also been discovered at Kourion, Amathus, Salamis, Karpasia, and Aphendrika, but Pliny, Strabo, Ptolemy, and the Stadiasmos of the Great Sea record harbors at a range of other sites (Leonard 1995). Leidwanger (2014a) has also revealed the importance of smaller beach anchorages as loci for informal exchanges. These liminal spaces’ archaeological remains reveal a coastline brimming with activity. It is these remains that shed light on how Cypriots, as islanders, established new identities during Roman times.

Ceramics and Glass Ceramics from Roman Cyprus show how insular styles could develop even as Cypriots became integrated into wider networks. Excavations have yielded large amounts of both thin-walled and thick-walled ceramics, while surveys and underwater wrecks mainly preserve thick-walled types. Following Myres’ (1914) and Vessberg’s (1956) pioneering efforts, scholars such as Oziol (1977), Hayes (1991), Meyza (2002), Lawall and Lund (2013), Winther-Jacobsen (Wriedt Sørensen and Winther-Jacobsen 2006), Kaldeli (2008), and Moore (Caraher, Moore, and Pettegrew 2014) have all contributed to elucidating Roman Cyprus’s ceramic history. Most recently, Lund’s (2015) synthesis is an invaluable resource on circulation of Cypriot ceramics.



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Roman Cyprus’s ceramic finds fall into the following categories: fine wares, lamps, cooking or kitchen wares, coarse wares, pithoi, and amphorae. Terracotta roof tiles and water pipes are common ceramic building materials, while clay sarcophagi have also been recovered (Lund 2015). Most coastal sites have a relatively full complement of these, although the percentage of a particular type or fabric may fluctuate due to a site’s geographical location, economic purpose, or cultural history. Roman Cyprus was integrated into trading networks and patterns of cultural emulation that influenced fineware consumption and production. Thin-walled, red-slipped sigillatas are some of the most diagnostic table wares from Cyprus. Eastern Sigillata A (ESA) was likely produced in northern Syria or eastern Cilicia from the second century bce until the first century ce, and is found at most coastal sites (Lund 2015, 164–166). In Cyprus, it is found as bowls, cups, and plates of pale brown to pink fabric, with red to reddish-orange slip. Eastern sigillata B (ESB) bowls and plates are also found, but in lesser numbers than ESA. ESB was likely produced near Tralles from the late first century bce to the first century ce, and has orange-red micaceous fabric with orange-brown slip (Caraher, Moore, and Pettegrew 2014, 77–78). Eastern sigillata C (Çandarlı ware) from western Asia Minor is rarely found on Cyprus (Malfitana 2002, 145). In addition to ESA, two commonly found fine wares are Eastern sigillata D, so-called Cypriot sigillata, and Italian sigillatas (Lund 2015, 166–168). Hayes (1967) first described Cypriot sigillata from finds at Nea Paphos: likely produced from ca. 100 bce to 150 ce, it has a light pink to reddish-brown fabric covered by reddish brown to brown slip, with small lime inclusions. Shapes include bowls, plates, and jugs. Although no kiln sites have been found, the current consensus is that the ware was likely produced in western Cyprus between Polis and northern Nea Paphos, or failing that, Pamphylia (Lund 2015, 167–168). Lund (1997) has shown that it was exported to Egypt, Judaea, southern Turkey, the Aegean, North Africa, and Italy. Italian sigillatas in the forms of plates and cups are also found in significant quantities at Nea Paphos, Amathus, and Kourion during the first century ce (Marquié 2002). As Malfitana (2004) has shown, most of these stamped sigillatas come from Pisan workshops, while others are Arretine. Early Roman mold-made lamps are also commonly found in Cypriot settlements, sanctuaries, and tombs. Vessberg (1956) developed the first typology, but catalogs by Oziol (1977), Bailey (1988) and, most recently, Lightfoot (2021) have expanded the corpus. A chronology for types from the first and second centuries has been established, and most mold-made lamps were likely locally produced (Wismann 2006, 339) following the styles of imported lamps, some of which came from major imperial workshops like Romanesis (Gordon and Cova 2010; Kajzer 2016). Most Cypriot lamps of the first and second centuries are circular and made to fit in the palm of the hand. They have a concave discus with fuel hole, often featuring images of rosettes, shells, animals, gladiators, myths, and erotic scenes. Fabrics range from fine reddish-yellow to yellowish-white, and some lamps have unevenly-applied red to brown slips (Wismann 2006, 349). Lamps with brighter and glossier slips may be Italian imports. Dominant among locally made ceramics are kitchenwares, coarsewares, and pithoi. Kitchenwares are typically thin-walled cooking pots, jugs, dishes, and casseroles that show signs of heating or soot, while coarsewares are thicker-walled utility items such as jugs, plates, bowls, basins, and jars, used for food preparation, storage, and transport (Wriedt Sørensen and Winther-Jacobsen 2006; Caraher, Moore, and Pettegrew 2014, 105–109). Most Roman sites provide an abundance of such pottery in a variety of regional fabrics and shapes, and they are best documented at Panayia Ematousa, Kalavassos-Kopetra, Pyla-Koutsopetria, and Nea Paphos (Wriedt Sørensen and Winther-Jacobsen 2006; Rautman 2003; Caraher, Moore, and Pettegrew 2014; Papuci-Władyka 2020). Pithoi, or large-capacity storage containers used for

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storing liquids or grains, were typically constructed of very coarse local fabrics by specialist potters, but are hard to date (Caraher, Moore, and Pettegrew 2014). Perhaps the best indicators of Cyprus’s integration into imperial trade routes are amphorae, vessels often used for seaborne transport of liquid commodities like olive oil and wine (Kaldeli 2008; Lawall and Lund 2013). Most coastal sites have yielded a range of imported types, and likely supplied the rural hinterland with imports in exchange for agricultural products, timber, and metals for export. Locally produced amphorae have been harder to isolate archaeologically. The best candidate is the “pinched-handle” amphora, a type made at Anemurium in Rough Cilicia but perhaps imitated in western Cyprus (Lund 2015). Kaldeli’s (2009, 2013) studies of the published amphorae from public and private spaces at coastal sites have shown that Cyprus occupied a central position in eastern Mediterranean trade networks. Imports from Italy, France, Spain and Portugal, North Africa, the Aegean, southern Turkey, and the broader Levant are found at Nea Paphos as well as the south-central site of Amathus. Kaldeli’s (2013) statistical analysis reveals that these sites were affected by different mechanisms of exchange and likely participated in different trade routes (northwest vs. southeast). Lund’s (2015, 153–162) study of regional circulation patterns, in addition to highlighting intra-insular ones, seems to support such market-inspired connections between western Cyprus and western Rough Cilicia, and between eastern Cyprus and eastern Rough Cilicia, Smooth Cilicia, and northwestern Syria (Lund 2015, 178–180). Glass was ubiquitous in Roman Cyprus as tablewares (cups, bowls, plates, jugs, bottles) and as jewelry (beads, rings, earrings, etc.), especially after core-formed and cast glass became mass-produced and blown glass techniques evolved. Perfume bottles are particularly numerous, probably reflecting their preservation within tombs. In his recent catalog for the Cesnola collection, Lightfoot (2017) hypothesized that a mix of local and itinerant artisans made glass on Cyprus, though no ateliers have yet been excavated. Some imports came from specific workshops, such as that of Ennion in Phoenicia. A certain Aristaeus signed his glass vases “ΚΥΠΡΙΟC,” and may have been a Cypriot who was either itinerant or whose wares were exported, as none have been found in Cyprus; Lightfoot (2014, 44) suggested that he may have worked closely with Ennion, and therefore was also based in Phoenicia.

Settlement Patterns, Urbanism, and Monumental Public Architecture Cyprus’s integration into imperial trade routes stimulated the economy and likely led to a population increase. There is no sign of an influx of Roman colonies or citizens, so increased agricultural development and port-oriented trade may have spurred this demographic shift. Rautman (2003, 247) has collated the evidence from all major twentieth century landscape surveys to show that settlement numbers increased from the first century bce to the midsecond century ce, at least in the hinterland. This is supported by subsequent projects, including the Canadian Palaipaphos Survey Project (CPSP; Wriedt Sørensen and Rupp 1993), Sydney Cyprus Survey Project (SCSP; Given and Knapp 2003), the Troodos Archaeological and Environmental Survey Project (TAESP; Given et al. 2013), the PylaKoutsopetria Archaeological Project (PKAP; Caraher, Moore, and Pettegrew 2014), and the Settled and Sacred Landscapes of Cyprus project in the Xeros River Valley (SeSaLaC; Papantoniou and Vionis 2017). The work of CPSP in southwestern Cyprus revealed that the reestablishment of Nea Paphos as the provincial capital created a dendritic economic system that expanded settlement from the large-scale port city and along river valleys into the hinterland (Rupp 1997). New



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economic opportunities derived from imperial incorporation likely caused Cypriots to move to these ports, especially the capital, expanding their urban footprint and architectural elaboration. Meanwhile, formerly significant inland centers like Idalion shrank in population and lacked the monumentalization of coastal cities (Gaber 2008, 62; Kaldeli 2009). Most Cypriot coastal cities took on a new architectural appearance influenced by eastern Mediterranean interpretations of Romanitas. Marble began to appear in almost all coastal cities; colonnaded streets and porticos in agoras and gymnasia were built in Nea Paphos, Kourion, Salamis, Soloi, and elsewhere (Michaelides 1990). Bath complexes appeared in Kourion, Salamis, and Amathus, and fountains were also incorporated into cityscapes at Nea Paphos, Soloi, Amathus, and Kourion (Aupert 1996, 76–78; Christodoulou 2014; Barker 2016). These monuments were ­supplied by elaborate water systems, such as those discovered at Salamis, Nea Paphos, Amathus, and most notably Kourion (Last 1975). Theaters, sometimes with Hellenistic antecedents, were rebuilt and sometimes repurposed for gladiatorial events at Soloi, Nea Paphos, Kourion, and Salamis (Westholm 1936; Stillwell 1961; Karageorghis 1999; Barker 2016). Nea Paphos and Salamis ­preserve the remnants of stage buildings dating to the high empire (with an Antonine imperial ­dedication) that would have been decorated with imported marble statuary paid for by local b ­ enefactors. Several sections at Nea Paphos also have evidence for painting (Wood Conroy 2003). The two largest port cities, Salamis in the east and the capital, Nea Paphos, in the west, had ­amphitheaters, and the popularity of gladiatorial games and beast hunts is shown by their appearance on mosaics (e.g., at Kourion). An internal road network connecting Cyprus’s main urban centers has been reconstructed by Bekker-Nielsen (2004) based on ancient tracks and milestones. There was a circuminsular road as well as one that crossed through the middle of the island between Kition and Soloi. There is no evidence for triumphal arches in Roman Cyprus, but two incomplete limestone reliefs of a Nike and a cuirassed emperor from Xylophagou may have been meant for a large-scale monument (Vermeule 1979). In sum, by the second century ce, the cities of Roman Cyprus may have resembled other major eastern ports, like Antioch or Ephesus.

Domestic Architecture, Mosaics, and Frescos Large and ostentatious domestic structures in Roman Cyprus were generally Italian-style atrium houses. Prime examples are those at the port and capital, Nea Paphos, where mosaics showcase Roman Cypriots’ cosmopolitan tastes and “the dynamic process of Romanization” (Kondoleon 1995, 332). Those at the House of Dionysus, a large, late second century ce dwelling with multiple atria, feature the myths of Dionysos’ triumph (Figure 28.3), Pyramus and Thisbe, Ganymede, and Ikarios, as well as hunting, vegetal, and allegorical imagery. A Hellenistic black and white mosaic with the monster Scylla was discovered in the Hellenistic strata of the house, documenting its long history of domestic mosaics (Michaelides 1992, 10). Another atrium house, that of Orpheus, is ca. 150 m southeast of the House of Dionysos, and its Roman phase may be of slightly earlier date (Michaelides 1992, 12). It was named for a sizeable mosaic of Orpheus playing the lyre to a range of wild birds and animals, which contains a Greek epigraph likely representing the name of the house’s owner: Gaius (or Titus) Pinnius Restitutus (Michaelides 1992, 14). Latin graffiti in the house may also suggest the inhabitants’ preferred language (Rekowska et al. 2019, 214). The House of Aion is located ca. 50 m east of the House of Dionysos (Michaelides 1992, 28-31). There, the mosaics frequently use Greek to identify divine and allegorical figures, including the eponymous Aion. A coin of Licinius found in the mosaic paving dates the

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Figure 28.3  Floor mosaic from the House of Dionysos, Nea Paphos, showing the Triumph of Dionysos. Photo by Jody M. Gordon.

triclinium to the early fourth century, an era that produced refined mosaic images both at Nea Paphos and other sites, like the House of Achilles at Kourion, and that marked the beginning of polemics between pagans and emergent Christian elite people (Olszewski 2013). The largest domestic structure in Roman Cyprus is the House of Theseus at Nea Paphos, which was likely the proconsul’s palace; an engraved stone seal of the XV Legion Apollinaris, perhaps lost by a Roman officer visiting the island, was found here. Over a hundred rooms, organized into four wings emanating out from a central rectangular peristyle, have been excavated, and the mosaic style and other finds suggest that the building’s phases date from the second through fifth centuries ce (Michaelides 1992, 24–25). The house’s circular mosaic of Theseus and the Minotaur emphasizes the sophistication of its viewers, some of whom may have even been islanders from Crete, who could have entered this public-facing room and thought about the floor as a reflection of both imperial art and Mediterranean island myth (Sweetman 2007). Due to the similarity of mosaic techniques even outside Nea Paphos, Michaelides (1992, 3) posited that a local industry emerged during the first two centuries ce. Mosaics are still being discovered, especially in Nea Paphos, Larnaca, and the Mesaoria, and in 2017, an international conference, “Decoration of Hellenistic and Roman Buildings in Cyprus,” was held at the University of Warsaw. Scholars have also begun to use scientific techniques to identify stone types and to explore best conservation practices (Stanley-Price 1991; Michaelides 2003). Elite domestic spaces of Nea Paphos were also brightly painted (Radpour, Fischer, and Kakoulli 2019). Some of the techniques and materials are better known from tombs, as will



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be seen; the motifs for domestic frescos may be closer to those of other cosmopolitan ports, like Ephesus. The best-preserved fragments come from the House of Aion, and feature illusionistic architectural features, figurative theater masks, and standing figures with labels, likely Muses and Apollo (Jastrzębowska 2018). Painting fragments from the House of Orpheus present vegetal and figural motifs (Rekowska et al. 2019). Not all Cypriots lived in ostentatious seaside houses, however. Excavations at rural sites like Panayia Ematousa have revealed simpler habitations of farmers and industrial laborers (Wriedt Sørensen and Winther-Jacobsen 2006). This first century ce hamlet in the hinterland north of Kition (modern Larnaca) was laid out without streets, and its one-story habitations had many interconnected rooms with mortared limestone foundations, slab floors, and likely mudbrick walls. Although it dates to the mid-fourth century ce, the “Earthquake House” at Kourion has also been described by Costello (2014) as a non-elite residence with a diachronically-modified architectural design as well as unique material storage, reuse, and waste systems. The people who lived here and at Panayia Ematousa likely experienced domestic space in a very different way from those in Nea Paphos’ luxurious dwellings.

Sculpture in Context The materials, themes, and contexts that characterize Roman Cyprus’s sculptural remains offer a distinct insight into how local insular traditions could be maintained or transformed in reaction to wider political, artistic, and religious trends. Cyprus lacks marble, so limestone was used, mainly at inland religious or funerary sites. Imported marble, then, serves as a marker of Cypriots’ connection to trade routes or interest in emulating imperial trends (Kaldeli 2009); marble statues have primarily been found in port cities, used either for elite citizens’ self-promotion or as a symbol of political allegiance (Fejfer 2013). Ironically, despite Cyprus’s cupriferous fame, only a few fragments and some bases give evidence for Roman-era bronze statues (except for the Septimius Severus, perhaps from Chytroi: Kleiner 1992, 320, fig. 282), likely due to melting and reuse in late antiquity. Fejfer’s (2006) synthesis of the sculptural corpus cataloged 1200 sculptures and statuettes plausibly dated to the Roman period. Sculptural types include honorific statues and portraits, classicizing mythological statues, votive statues, and funerary memorials. Most public sculpture was in the round, with reliefs mainly used in funerary contexts. She also recognized several key contexts for sculptural display of sculpture in Roman Cyprus: public spaces like theaters, gymnasia, agorai, and fountains in urban centers; isolated and rural sanctuaries; tombs; and private homes. During the first and second centuries ce, the Salamis theater’s scaenae frons was likely decorated with cuirassed statues of emperors and the gods of theater, Apollo and Dionysus, while the cavea held statues of wealthy citizens and their families, such as the benefactor Sergius Sulpicius Pancles Veranianus (Fejfer 2013; Gordon 2012a, 583; Fujii 2013, 39–43). A figure of Victory from an unfinished monument at Xylofagou hints at a monumental local commemoration (Vermeule 1979). The coastal sanctuaries of Zeus at Salamis, Apollo Hylates at Kourion, and Aphrodite at Palaipaphos were all embellished in Roman times with statue bases for marble or bronze statues of imperial family members or divinities, and some fragments of imperial portraits, such as a bronze head of a Julio-Claudian from the Temple of Zeus at Salamis, have been found (Fujii 2013, 44). This form was likely due to these coastal shrines’ connections to maritime networks linking to Roman political and economic structures; all three were granted the right of asylum by Tiberius (Tacitus, Annals 3.62). Away from the coasts, the number of hinterland

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sanctuaries declined, and their sculptural profile was quite different (Papantoniou 2020). The sculptural style at Golgoi remained Hellenistic (e.g., Connelly 1988); elsewhere sculptures became rarer, except in funerary reliefs. Only Soloi-Cholades yielded a marble portrait, perhaps of Agrippina the Elder, and limestone statues of Isis and Canopus that seem stylistically Roman (Fejfer 2006, 100; Fujii 2013, 50). A similar rural-urban divide seems to have marked funerary sculpture. The main type of funerary monument was an unadorned limestone cippus, inscribed with a farewell, over an inhumation burial. Yet some cippi (Poyiadi-Richter 2009) and stelai (Parks 1999), echoing earlier limestone traditions, added relief sculptures of the deceased with cosmopolitan hairstyles and clothing. Also typical are limestone “funerary busts,” generic images of young males with very long necks made to be slotted into a torso, tomb shelf, or coffin (Fejfer 2006, 108). Some wealthy Cypriots imported marble sarcophagi, likely from Asia Minor, to the port cities: garland sarcophagi are known from Bellapais Abbey and Famagusta, and figural scenes are also known (Vermeule 1976, 88–89). As might be expected for elite seaside homes with mosaic and painted décor, residences at Soloi, Kourion, and Nea Paphos have also yielded imported bronze and marble statues. At Soloi, a second century ce bronze portrait of a youth was found in a domestic context (Fejfer 2006, 86). At the House of Theseus in Nea Paphos, perhaps the proconsul’s residence, a range of imported second- to third-century ce marble statues and statuettes (most ca. 0.60 m high) of deities and mythical figures have been recovered, with eight statuettes, perhaps for a nymphaeum, from the same workshop (Fejfer 2006, 111–114). The house’s most impressive statue is an under-lifesize second century ce Aphrodite brandishing a now-lost sword (Daszewski 1982; Fulińska 2012). Though its original context is unknown, Fejfer (2006, 115–116) has suggested a niche in the house’s double-apsed entrance hall. At Kourion, two under-lifesize classicizing marble statues of Asclepius and Mercury, dated to the second or third centuries, were discovered in the baths of the House of the Gladiators. Though originally meant for household décor, Fejfer (2006, 118–119) postulated that they were repurposed after the 365 ce earthquake for a Christian context, with Asclepius as Christ and Mercury as the Good Shepherd. Such observations provide an insight into the afterlife of early Roman sculpture in late antique Cyprus, a topic also explored by Panayides (2016). The sculpture of Roman Cyprus was thus contextual. In coastal cities, imported marble statues of deities, civic worthies, or imperial personages filled public and sacred spaces and elite residences. In the interior, however, limestone relief sculptures that maintained traditional carving techniques appeared, mainly in funerary contexts. Although the meaning of some statues, like the House of Theseus’ Aphrodite, might have depended on the importer and viewer, it seems that Cypriots living in port cities used an eastern Mediterranean elite vernacular, while deep-seated sculptural traditions were maintained at inland sites, at least until they declined or were transformed into new, Christianized, places.

Sacred Landscapes Papantoniou and Vionis (2017) have followed Susan Alcock (1993) in centering sacred landscapes within explorations of how Cypriots culturally constructed spaces where religion, politics, identity, and memory intertwined to create polysemic experiences, shedding new light on how Cypriots shaped their religious and funerary islandscapes over time. For Roman era writers like Strabo and Tacitus, Cyprus’s major shrines and unique cult of Aphrodite the “Cyprus-born” were topics of fascination (Ulbrich 2010; Kearns 2018). Among other culturally significant cults were those of Zeus, Apollo, Hera, Tyche, Asclepius, Hygeia, Perseus, Demeter and Kore, Ariadne, Adonis, Artemis, Dioscuri, Poseidon, and Isis (Mitford 1990).



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As noted, Cyprus also housed the imperial cult, Judaism (van der Horst 2003; Kapera 2009; Davis 2016), Theos Hypsistos (Flourentzos 2015), and early Christianity (Gordon and Caraher 2019). Archaic Cyprus had been a crossroads for various Greek, Egyptian, and Near Eastern religious practices in its extra-urban sanctuaries (Counts 2008, 5), and some continued into Hellenistic times. Surveys, however, have shown that, unlike the increase in settlement sites already noted, sacred landscapes decreased in number from over one hundred in the CyproArchaic period to under fifty during the Roman era (Papantoniou 2013, 37; 2020). This may again be due to the movement of economic and social power to port cities, where a “panCypriot myth history” could be related to imperial cult and elite lifestyles. The Julio-Claudian dynasty’s self-professed links to Venus encouraged both Cypriots and Romans to honor Aphrodite (Zanker 1988). The goddess’s birthplace and sanctuary at Palaipaphos was an oracular site with an ancient past that intrigued even the emperor Titus (Tacitus, Histories 2.2-3; Suetonius, Titus 5). Few ruins remain in Kouklia village, but it was clearly embellished with sacred buildings and honorific statuary (Iacovou 2019). The famous Temple of Aphrodite was a tripartite structure surrounded by a semicircular temenos, according to coin images (Maier and Karageorghis 1984), and her cult statue an aniconic baetyl, hinting at origins in Aegean, Near Eastern, or both traditions (Budin 2004; Papantoniou 2016). In Roman Palaipaphos, long-standing religious traditions were maintained. Elsewhere, architectural remains illustrate how Cypriot cults were reinterpreted in Roman times. At Kourion, a new prostyle tetrastyle podium temple of Apollo Hylates (Figure 28.4) was constructed with local limestone and Cypro-Corinthian capitals during the first century ce (Soren 1987; Sinos 1990). An impetus for the Romano-Cypriot redesign might have been new imperial cult practices for the epigraphically attested “ApolloKaisar” (Kantiréa 2008, 101; Fujii 2013, 62–65). A temple of similar design and date, likely dedicated to Aphrodite, was constructed on the acropolis of Amathus (Aupert 1996, 125–129). A podium temple at the east end of the Agora at Salamis was likely dedicated to Zeus Salaminios, and as mentioned, contained the bronze head of a Julio-Claudian (Argout et al. 1975). Soloi-Cholades retained its traditional Cypriot open-air layout within a temenos, likely because of continuing rituals to Aphrodite, Isis, and Cybele; an earlier connection to Ptolemaic royal cult may have fostered its connection to Roman imperial cult, especially if a female marble portrait found at the site represents Agrippina the Elder (Kleibl 2007; Papantoniou 2009).

Necropoleis Necropoleis were found in the extra-urban areas of most Cypriot cities, and chamber tombs provide key evidence for funerary practices: ceramics, coins, and jewelry were deposited to accompany the deceased to the afterlife (Parks 1999). Cemeteries also formed a sacred landscape symbolizing political and economic power and control of the landscape. Nevertheless, monumental funerary markers were uncommon. Instead, cippi were inscribed with a simple Greek formula of farewell and the deceased’s name. All ostentatious tombs in Cyprus are subterranean, with (mainly) rock-cut or (occasionally) built chambers (Parks 1999; Carstens 2006). The majority followed their Hellenistic antecedents in a design of simple dromoi (passageways) leading to chambers whose walls held alcoves, arched arcosolia, or rectangular loculi for the dead. Cross-shaped tombs of Hellenistic to Roman times have a stepped dromos that enters a cross-shaped chamber with benched alcoves for inhumations; the best preserved examples are at Athienou/Mağara Tepeşi (Figure 28.5) and at Ayia Napa/Makronisos. Many Roman period tombs, especially on the

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Figure 28.4  The (partially reconstructed) early Roman era Temple of Apollo at the Sanctuary of Apollo Hylates near the ancient city of Kourion. Photo by Jody M. Gordon.

Akrotiri peninsula’s coast, had arcosolia, while others had loculi. “Atrium tombs” are mainly found at Nea Paphos, where the wealthy had built the so-called “Tombs of the Kings” to mimic Ptolemaic Alexandrian fashions, and continued into Roman times. Built chamber tombs are rare: “Cobham’s tomb” in Kition is one example, with a stepped dromos leading to three chambers, the first with a coffered ceiling, the others with barrel vaults (Carstens 2006, 156). A cross-shaped tomb of the second century ce in Paphos has a



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Figure 28.5  Interior view of Tomb 27, a rock-cut chamber tomb of Hellenistic to Roman date discovered at Athienou-Mağara Tepeşi, in Cyprus’ central Mesaoria plain. Photo courtesy of the Athienou Archaeological Project.

dome covering the main square chamber (Carstens 2006, 157). Sometimes tombs were reused: “St. Catherine’s Prison” at Salamis was an Archaic era “royal” built tomb that was apparently rebuilt in Roman times with a barrel vault (Wright 1992: 160). Some more elaborate chamber tombs were painted (Raptou 2007). The necropoleis around Nea Paphos have fragments of calcium carbonate plaster-based fresco (Kakoulli, Fischer, and Michaelides 2010), and the typical color palette included red ochre, yellow ochre, Egyptian blue, green earth, calcium carbonate white, carbon black, and manganese oxide black (Radpour, Fischer, and Kakoulli 2019). Preserved fresco fragments imitate marble revetment, false doors, ceiling coffers, geometric motifs, garlands, still lifes, and birds, including peacocks. Figural representations are rare, but “Tomb Annabelle 48” contained a personification of summer, and one tomb in the “Tombs of the Kings” Avenue had a richly dressed female standing above the common inscription of farewell. Artistic techniques were influenced by the Near East as well as Italy, reflecting Cypriots’ cosmopolitan tastes (Raptou 2007, 126).

Inscribing Practices When the Romans conquered Cyprus, Greek was the main language for inscriptions, and though some Latin inscriptions have been discovered, it remained the dominant vernacular. Mitford’s wide range of articles and corpora (1950, 1971, 1980, 1990; with Nicolaou 1964) collected and used epigraphic data to reconstruct Cyprus’s imperial era administration and religious practices. Since then, Roman inscriptions of Amathus have been published piecemeal in the Bulletin de Correspondence Hellenique, while those of Paphos have been studied

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by Cayla (2018). Hirschfeld (1996) collated all the main Roman era inscriptions in her database of scripts on Cyprus, and synthetic studies include Krigkos’s (2008) dissertation on Greek and Latin inscriptions, Kantirea’s (2008) and Fujii’s (2013) research on the imperial cult, and Hussein’s (2021) monograph on Roman epigraphy and local identity. Roman Cyprus’s inscriptions fall into many of the same categories found throughout the Roman East, with honorific and euergetistic inscriptions and dedications to local or imperial cults making up the majority. Most inscriptions come from coastal cities, such as Nea Paphos and its shrine at Palaipaphos, Kourion, Amathus, and Salamis. Depending on their purpose and audience, inscriptions were carved into either local limestone or imported marble blocks, though labeling of figures and scenes on mosaic floors was also common. Honorific inscriptions continue Hellenistic traditions of cities or the koinon Kyprion erecting statues to emperors or elite citizens such as gymnasiarchs, and benefactors’ inscriptions on buildings, like the scaenae frons of the Nea Paphos theater. Such inscriptions were intended for literate local audiences, but since they follow dedicatory formulae seen throughout the Near East, they would have also been meaningful to non-Cypriot viewers. Religious inscriptions include dedications to deities within civic and sanctuary contexts, especially those relating to the traditional cults of Cyprus, such as Aphrodite at Palaipaphos or Apollo at Kourion. As noted, these deities could be linked to the worship of imperial persons, as often honored by wealthy locals, especially members of the koinon Kyprion. Most revealing are the “Oath of Allegiance of Tiberius” from Palaipaphos and the dedications to Apollo Kaisar at the Sanctuary of Apollo Hylates (Fujii 2013, 62–65, 77–91). The Oath of Allegiance was presumably sworn by members of the koinon Kyprion, and links the traditional gods of Cyprus to the divine Augustus (as “descendant of Aphrodite”), his successor Tiberius, and their house. At Kourion, several inscriptions refer to Apollo Kaisar; according to Fujii (2013, 64), this may refer to a continuing concept of the emperor as a temple-sharing god with Apollo Hylates in Kourion, rather than directly to the sanctuary’s most prominent benefactor, Trajan. Other inscriptions from Roman Cyprus consist of mosaics, milestones, funerary epitaphs, and curse tablets. Mosaic labels are largely descriptive, elucidating characters or themes (or even possible artists or owners), yet an entranceway in the House of Dionysos told visitors, “Rejoice,” “you too.” (Michaelides 1992, 15) These led to a wealth of writing in mosaics in the Early Christian period (Michaelides 1989). Milestones have been recovered along Cyprus’s Roman roads and typically provide a date for when a city or proconsul set up the stone as well as the distance from the closest city (Bekker-Nielsen 2004). During the first and second centuries they were mainly in Greek, but some examples from the reign of Constantine are in Latin, and bilingual milestones have been recently analyzed by Gavrielatos (2017). As discussed, funerary inscriptions on limestone cippi are typically laconic and are aimed at saying farewell to the deceased (Parks 1999, 127). Defixiones (“curse tablets”) inscribed on lead or selenite (gypsum) and dating to the second or third century ce have been recovered from a subterranean “ritual” shaft in Amathus, likely perceived as a passage to the underworld. Over 200 rolled lead scrolls were found under a mass of unrelated human bones (Wilburn 2012). They were inscribed in Greek with spells calling on chthonic deities to punish named individuals; given the similarity of hands and epigraphic elements, they were produced by professional curse writers.

Toward a Globalized Island Archaeology for Roman Cyprus For most of the twentieth century, archaeologies of Roman Cyprus focused on interpreting the island’s material remains from a peripheral perspective that evaluated Cypriot materials against those of the imperial center of Rome or provincial cities like Athens, Ephesus, or



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Antioch. This colonialist, center-periphery approach placed value on provincial contributions to the Roman imperial project based on the resources (gold/grain), individuals (Spaniards or Africans), or even cultural capital (classical Greece/ancient Egypt) that the Romans could extract from pacified landscapes and peoples (Hopkins 1978; Pitts and Versluys 2015, 9). Even when postcolonial perspectives began to focus on the Cypriots’ achievements within a wider geopolitical context, insistence on the preservation of “Greekness” could cloud interpretations of how Cypriots may have actively adopted imperial or external (e.g., Judaism) cultural norms (Leriou 2007). In recent years, however, scholars have begun to move toward a more dialectical form of analysis that draws on a new wave of Cypro-centric archaeology (Iacovou 2013; Steele 2018), as well as theories of connectivity, networks, and globalization (Morris 2005; Gordon and Kouremenos 2020). Central to such postprocessual approaches is the concept of insularity as a strategically constructed social identity and the use of an island archaeology as a method to explore it (Knapp 2008, 14; Gordon 2018a). Knapp (2008, 18) defined insularity as “The quality of being isolated as a result of living on islands, or of being somewhat detached in outlook and experience. Insularity can result from personal, historical or social contingency.” Further, insularity is a social identity that “is contingent in both space and time, and thus may be adopted or adapted as individual or wider social concerns dictate.” Insularity offers an interpretive tool for understanding how Cypriots, as islanders living on key maritime routes within Romans’ mare nostrum, could manipulate how they connected, interacted, and even withdrew from the wider imperial world. Aligned to this approach is the recent “global turn” in Roman studies: many precepts of contemporary globalization theory are relevant to our understanding of the interactive and connected maritime world of the Roman Mediterranean (Morris 2005; Pitts and Versluys 2015). Examining the material remains of people on a connected “insula portuosa” like Cyprus through a global lens seems appropriate. For Hodos (2017, 4), globalizations, “processes of increasing connectivities that unfold and manifest as social awareness of these connectivities,” can manifest themselves as either socially positive or negative: hybridizing “glocalization” (the creation of locally meaningful practices from globally common ones), or homogenizing “grobalization” (the spread of globalized cultural features or economic products). As Morris (2005, 33) has argued, recent reinterpretation of the ancient Mediterranean Sea as a strongly interconnected world calls scholars to push the globalization analogy harder in order to better understand how connected peoples, like Cypriots, actively manipulated their insularity in the face of Roman maritime hegemony. Hence a globalized archaeology of insularity seems an effective way forward for studies of Roman Cyprus: it puts Cypriots at the fulcrum between engaging with imperial practices and transforming them into locally meaningful materials and activities. It also offers an analytical mode that Sweetman (2007, 2011, 2016) and Francis and Kouremenos (2016) have already begun to use for Crete and the Cyclades, and that could be applied to Cyprus’s “sister” provinces, Sicily and Sardinia. The fruits of such an approach are already evident in this chapter. Roman Cyprus was not a somnolent backwater but a vibrant island province whose people were at the center of negotiations between imperial interests and local realities of space/geography and time/history. Cyprus’s strategic location and unique islandscapes drew culturally influential external groups to the island. Roman influence was modulated by the empire’s relative disinterest in Cyprus as a border state or as a source of resource wealth, yet Cypriots actively flocked to port cities, intermingled with imperial agents, and adopted important globalizing practices (such as the display of imported marble statuary) to appear culturally connected to a larger imperial world. Cypriots also adapted these practices to local traditions, such as the continued use of Greek in inscriptions, the incorporation of Roman architectural styles into existing limestone ­vocabularies, and the commemoration of Aphrodite, whose temple was represented on the provincial coinage. Such material culture transformations occurred differently in different

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islandscapes: some, like use of mosaics, were more frequent in ports connected to imperial trade routes than they were in hinterland settlements. Overall, the archeology of Roman Cyprus reveals a province whose people connected to globalizing Roman practices, but who could also use their insularity to mediate how these practices were adopted and adapted. Future archeological research on Roman Cyprus should engage with other “new directions” already developing across Cypriot archaeology (cf. Kearns and Manning 2019). Scientific analyses of material remains such as cooking pots (University of Cyprus 2021c) or wall paintings (Radpour, Fischer, and Kakoulli 2019) should further explore the techniques and materials used to make Roman places. Maritime and coastal archaeology projects like those of M.A.RE. Lab (University of Cyprus 2021a) should help scholars better elucidate how ports, coasts, and ships connected islanders to globalizing groups. Study of the influence of climate on the island’s economic and demographic development, as yet poorly understood, would illuminate Roman Cyprus’s economy and carrying capacity (Kearns 2019; Kaniewski et al. 2020). On a related note, interdisciplinary and diachronic survey projects using GIS (e.g., University of Cyprus 2021b) should continue to map and analyze Cyprus’s Roman and post-Roman landscapes (Papantoniou et al. 2019). Excavation and publication of sites endangered by economic development, such as Nea Paphos, should continue in tandem with sustainable heritage site management, conservation, and the deployment of new technologies like geophysical prospection, 3D modeling, and virtual reality (Barker 2018); digital heritage projects have been pioneered by STARC and CaSToRC at the Cyprus Institute. Moreover, cooperation between northern Cyprus and the Republic, perhaps moderated by UNDP, USAID, or ICOMOS, should also be encouraged when Roman sites of shared historical value are endangered (Knapp and Antoniadou 1998; Kassinis 2015). Finally, the cataloging, digitization, and publication of legacy museum collections of Roman Cypriot material (e.g., Penn Museum 2021; Cyprus Department of Antiquities 2021; Lightfoot 2017; 2021) should continue. If such research avenues continue to develop, fruitful new directions will emerge for Roman archaeology in Cyprus, directions that will hopefully provide fresh insights into how these islanders survived and thrived within the Roman Mediterranean.

Biographical Note Jody Michael Gordon is Professor of Humanities and Social Sciences at Wentworth Institute of Technology. He received his PhD in Classical Archaeology from the Department of Classics at the University of Cincinnati, where his dissertation centered on the effects of imperialism in ancient Cyprus. He has been assistant director of the Athienou Archaeological Project in Cyprus since 2005, and is co-editor of Mediterranean Archaeologies of Insularity in an Age of Globalization (Oxbow Books, 2020).

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Soren, David, ed. 1987. The Sanctuary of Apollo Hylates at Kourion, Cyprus. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Stanley-Price, Nicholas, ed. 1991. The Conservation of the Orpheus Mosaic at Paphos, Cyprus. Marina del Rey: Getty Conservation Institute. Steele, Philippa. 2018. Writing and Society in Ancient Cyprus. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Stillwell, Richard. 1961. “Kourion: The Theater.” Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society, 105, no. 1: 37–78. Sweetman, Rebecca J. 2007. “Roman Knossos: The Nature of a Globalized City.” American Journal of Archaeology, 111, no. 1: 61–81. Sweetman, Rebecca J. 2011. “Domus, Villa, and Farmstead: The Globalization of Crete.” In Stega: The Archaeology of Houses and Households in Ancient Crete, edited by Kevin T. Glowacki and Natalia Vogeikoff-Brogan, 441–450. Princeton: American School of Classical Studies at Athens. Sweetman, Rebecca J. 2016. “Networks: Exile and Tourism in the Roman Cyclades.” In Beyond Boundaries: Connecting Visual Cultures in the Provinces of Ancient Rome, edited by Susan E. Alcock, Mariana Egri, and James F. D. Frakes, 46–61. Los Angeles: Getty Publications. Ulbrich, Anja. 2010. “Images of Cypriot Aphrodite in her Sanctuaries during the Age of the CityKingdoms.” In Brill’s Companion to Aphrodite, edited by Amy C. Smith and Sadie Pickup, 165–193. Leiden: Brill. Ulbrich, Anja, and Thomas Kiely. 2012. “Britain and the Archaeology of Cyprus. I: The Long Nineteenth Century.” Cahiers du Centre d’Études Chypriotes, 42: 305–356. University of Cyprus 2021a. “M.A.RE. Lab.” Retrieved September 26 2021, from https://ucy.ac.cy/ marelab/en University of Cyprus 2021b. “Settled and Sacred Landscapes of Cyprus (SeSaLaC).” Retrieved September 26 2021, from https://www.ucy.ac.cy/artlands/en/research/sesalac University of Cyprus 2021c. “Stirring Pots on Fire.” Retrieved September 26 2021, from https://www. ucy.ac.cy/artlands/en/research/stirring-pots-on-fire van der Horst, Pieter. 2003. “The Jews of Ancient Cyprus.” Zutot, 3, no. 1: 110–120. Vermeule, Cornelius C. 1976. Greek and Roman Cyprus: Art from Classical Through Late Antique Times. Boston: Museum of Fine Arts. Vermeule, Cornelius C. 1979. “An Imperial Commemorative Monument Never Finished: A Possible Memorial of Trajan’s Eastern ‘Conquests’ at Salamis on Cyprus.” In Studies Presented in Memory of Porphyrios Dikaios, edited by Vassos Karageorghis, Hector William Catling, and Kyriakos Nicolaou, 189–193. Nicosia: Lions Club of Nicosia (Cosmopolitan). Vessberg, Olaf, and Alfred Westholm. 1956. The Swedish Cyprus Expedition: The Hellenistic and Roman Periods in Cyprus, Vol. 4, pt. 3, Stockholm: The Swedish Cyprus Expedition. Vionis, Anastasios K., and Giorgos Papantoniou. 2019. “Economic Landscapes and Transformed Mindscapes in Cyprus from Roman Times to the Early Middle Ages.” In Change and Resilience: The Occupation of Mediterranean Islands in Late Antiquity, edited by Miguel Ángel Cau Ontiveros and Catalina Mas Florit, Joukowsky Institute Publication 9, 257–284. Oxford: Oxbow. Westholm, Alfred. 1936. The Temples of Soli: Studies on Cypriote Art during Hellenistic and Roman Periods. Stockholm: The Swedish Cyprus Expedition. Wilburn, Andrew. 2012. Materia Magica: The Archaeology of Magic in Roman Egypt, Cyprus, and Spain. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Wilson, Andrew. 2011. “Developments in Mediterranean Shipping and Maritime Trade from the Hellenistic Period to AD 1000.” In Maritime Archaeology and Ancient Trade in the Mediterranean, edited by David Robinson and Andrew Wilson, Oxford Centre for Maritime Archaeology 6, 33–60. Oxford: Institute of Archaeology, University of Oxford. Wismann, T. 2006. “The Lamps.” In: Panagia Ematousa I: A Rural Site in South-eastern Cyprus, edited by L. Wriedt Sørensen and K. Winther Jacobsen, Monographs of the Danish Institute at Athens 6.1, 338–354. Aarhus: Aarhus University Press. Wood Conroy, Diana. 2003. “Roman Wall Painting in the Pafos Theatre.” Report of the Department of Antiquities Cyprus, 275–300.



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Wriedt Sørensen, Lone, and David W. Rupp, eds. 1993. The Land of the Paphian Aphrodite 2. The Canadian Palaipaphos Survey Project: Artifact and ecofactual studies; section 1. Studies in Mediterranean Archaeology 104. Gøteborg: Åström. Wriedt Sørensen, Lone, and Kristina Winther-Jacobsen, eds. 2006. Panayia Ematousa: A Rural Site in South-Eastern Cyprus. Monographs of the Danish Institute at Athens 6. Athens: Danish Institute at Athens. Wright, George R. H. 1992. Ancient Building in Cyprus. Handbook of Oriental Studies. Section 7, Art and Archaeology, The Ancient Near East 2B. Leiden: Brill. Zanker, Paul. 1988. The Power of Images in the Age of Augustus. Translated by Alan Shapiro. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Zavagno, Luca. 2017. Cyprus Between Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages (ca. 600–800): An Island in Transition. Birmingham Byzantine and Ottoman Studies. Oxford: Routledge.

CHAPTER 29

Judaea Barbara Burrell

Historical Introduction Among Rome’s provinces, Judaea (Figure 29.1) was unique. A major part of its population practiced a monotheistic religion centered on a single Temple in a single city, Jerusalem, the religious, cultural, and political capital. Before Rome’s advent, Judaea’s Hasmonean kings, who also served as high priests in that Temple, had carved out a principality semi-independent of neighboring Hellenistic realms, but dynastic, ethnic, and sectarian disputes often complicated their rule. Pompey brought the region under Rome’s control as an allied kingdom in 63 bce, but rivalry between Roman- and Parthian-backed candidates for the throne and high priesthood eventually raised a new strongman, Herod the Great, to power. He was appointed king in Rome in 40 bce and gradually eliminated other contenders. Later, under Augustus, he was granted territories extending west, north, and east, made munificent gifts not just to his Roman overlords but to cities and peoples across the Mediterranean, and became one of the most (in)famous of Rome’s allied kings. Herod made an indelible mark on the landscape of Judaea; research on his monuments, fortresses, palaces, and cities has become almost an industry (Rozenberg and Mevorah 2013). His death in 4 bce partitioned most of his realm among his sons: Archelaus became ethnarch of the core region Judea (this spelling distinguishes the geographic area from the wider kingdom/province Judaea), Samaria, and Idumaea, while Antipas became tetrarch of Galilee and Peraea, and Philip tetrarch of Batanea, Trachonitis, and Auranitis (Figure 29.1). But one by one, Rome displaced these rulers: Archelaus was dethroned in 6 ce and his realm made into the province Judaea, administered by a prefect under the Governor of Syria. The other tetrarchies were absorbed into Judaea in 34 and 39 ce, though Herod’s grandson Herod Agrippa I was briefly given them, and in 41 even Judea, to rule. After his death in 44 ce, his son Agrippa II was allotted some northern areas of that realm, but the majority of the land was governed by Roman procurators. Direct Roman rule only stirred up more social tensions and disputes over administration, ethnicity, and religion; Judaea, already a site of “Romanization” under Herod, now

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 2, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



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Figure 29.1  Map of Judaea with sites mentioned in text, by John Wallrodt from map by I. Roll and O. Paran, Isaac 2015, 48.

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generated an even stronger “resistance,” at least in some quarters. The background and events are interpreted in historical works by Flavius Josephus, a priestly Jew, leader, and war prisoner in the First Revolt against Rome, which began in 66 ce with the rebels’ massacre of the Roman garrison in Jerusalem. It eventually brought the general (later emperor) Vespasian and up to four Roman legions, with commensurate auxiliary forces, to Judaea, and ended with the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple in 70 ce, though some rebels, notably in Masada, held out until ca. 73–74. According to Josephus (Jewish War 6.420– 431, though his numbers are often exaggerated), perhaps a third of the population died, and many were sent to work in the mines or sold into slavery; the Jews, now deprived of their sole Temple and mode of worship, were forced to give their usual contributions for it to Capitoline Jupiter (Heemstra 2012), and Vespasian appointed a governor of praetorian rank to rule Judaea directly (Cotton 2007). He also made Caesarea, his former headquarters, a Roman colony, while the Legio X Fretensis kept the peace, such as it was, from Jerusalem. Though Judaea was thus ostensibly pacified, while the emperor Trajan was fighting the Parthians in 115–117 revolt rekindled in Jewish communities outside the homeland, as the “Diaspora” or “Kitos” War (Ben Zeev 2005). Some of its ringleaders fled Roman retribution to Lydda (modern Lod), bringing siege and punishment back to Judaea. Under the rule of Hadrian or before, another legion, originally the Legio II Traiana but soon the Legio VI Ferrata, was installed near Megiddo in Galilee at a site thus named Legio; with the additional force came a yet-higher-ranking governor (Bonnie 2019, 36–40). By 132, Judaea’s Second Revolt had broken out, led by Shimon Ben Kosba (generally known as Bar Kochba), Nasi (prince, leader) of Israel; judging from sites and finds of coins in his name, generally restruck on Roman issues, it centered in the Judean hills and deserts (Eshel and Zissu 2019). The revolt drove refugees to desert caves, where they left some of the most extraordinary documents of the time, including letters between Shimon and his commanders. It would take almost four years of hard fighting by up to seven more legions for Rome to reassert its dominance. According to Cassius Dio (69.14.3), over a half million men were killed in raids and battles, not counting those who died of other causes, while fifty of the Jews’ most important outposts and 985 of their most famous villages were razed; in sum, “nearly the whole of Judaea was made desolate.” This time Rome took no chances: the province was renamed Syria Palaestina, signifying that it was no longer to be considered the land of the Jews; they were expelled from around Jerusalem, which was remade as Hadrian previously planned, into the Roman colony Aelia Capitolina, populated by legionary veterans. Many Jews scattered abroad or to isolated settlements, mainly in the Galilee, which had remained relatively quiet during the Revolt, and where archaeology shows development and growth of cities and towns. The later Antonine and Severan periods were generally quiet, with flourishing cities emitting their own bronze coinage, and some joining Caesarea as Roman colonies: Sebaste, Sepphoris (renamed Diocaesarea), Beth Guvrin (Eleutheropolis), Lydda (Diospolis), and Emmaus (Nikopolis). The emperors Septimius Severus and Caracalla allowed Jews to become not just citizens but decurions (councilmen) of cities and perform civic duties that did not go against their religion (Digest 50.2.3.3), while rabbis in Galilee were compiling the Mishnah and Tosefta. Though Neapolis in Samaria, founded by Vespasian, became the sole city in the region known to be honored as neokoros, temple warden, under the emperor Philip (244–249 ce; Burrell 2004, 260–265), the “crises” of the mid-third century also affected Syria Palaestina, which along with much of the eastern empire fell under Palmyrene dominion ca. 261–266. As in the rest of the East, after 260 ce cities stopped minting their own coins, likely due to widespread inflation and devaluation of imperial coinage (see Burrell, “Coinage,” chapter 4 of this volume). With the reorganizations of the empire under Diocletian, Syria Palaestina



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was split into three separate provinces; the Sixth Legion departed, and the Tenth was sent to Aila/Eilat, to man the fortification and security system at the southern border (limes Palaestinae). Later, under the Christian emperor Constantine, the region would rise to receive imperial attention, wealth, and buildings, mainly great churches, to mark events in the life of Christ.

King Herod, Ally of Rome As mentioned, Herod the Great (37–4 bce) was responsible for an extraordinary range and number of projects over more than thirty years of rule, and many have been archaeologically explored and published. Dominating this research was the late Ehud Netzer, who died in the midst of exploring Herod’s palatial complex at Herodion (Rozenberg and Mevorah 2013; Porat, Kalman, and Chachy 2015). Netzer (2006, including bibliography to that point) had already published his analysis of all of Herod’s amazing range of projects. The best-known cities that Herod founded were Sebaste, named after the Greek for “Augustus,” and Caesarea on the harbor of Sebastos, again honoring the Roman ruler both in name and in cult: both cities centered on elaborate temple precincts dedicated to his worship (Burrell 2020; Holum 2020). Caesarea’s temple of Augustus and Roma skewed from the city’s street grid to face the enormous artificial harbor Sebastos, which was built using wooden forms filled with both imported pozzolana from the bay of Naples (allowing the concrete to set underwater) and local materials to make up the bulk. Herod also built the first monumental spectacle complexes in Judaea; his hippodrome and theater in Caesarea followed Italian modes of construction, and were built to flank his own residence, the Promontory Palace. There were also Antipatris (named for Herod’s father) and Herodion, named for himself, featuring a spectacular hilltop palace/fortress and eventually Herod’s own tomb (Porat, Kalman, and Chachy 2015). At the royal estate near Jericho, Herod first built one palace that added Italian bathing refinements, such as heated rooms, to the tubs, pools, and stepped pools his predecessors the Hasmoneans had used, then took over and modified the extant Hasmonean palace complex, and finally built a splendid third palace with display rooms and gardens on both sides of the seasonal river Wadi Qelt. Though other parts featured local techniques, the heated bath suite in this last palace was built in Roman-style opus reticulatum, implying that Italian builders worked there; the rare appearances of this masonry style in the eastern empire are mainly associated with Herod’s projects (Dodge 1990). Also associated with the Jericho estate was a unique multiuse spectacle building at nearby Tell es-Samarat (Netzer 2006, 72–80). Herod built or substantially rebuilt many fortresses that became bulwarks of his rule, the best explored and most famous being Masada, but also Alexandreion, Doq, Kypros, Hyrkania, Nuseib Uweishira (Netzer 2006, 17–41, 202–217), and Machaerus (Vörös 2013–2019). Most included luxurious refinements like heated baths and opus sectile floors, implying that they served as royal retreats as well as strategic strongholds. Herod’s palace in Jerusalem is not as well documented, as it is covered by parts of the historic Old City, but it too was fortified by walls and impressive towers, one partly preserved in the Jerusalem Citadel (now the Tower of David Museum) near the Jaffa Gate. But the most important project to his Jewish subjects was his rebuilding of the Second Temple. His builders extended its already massive precinct to ca. 485 m (W) × 280 m (S) × 470 m (E) × 315 m (N), totaling over 14 ha, the largest in the ancient world. The local limestone ashlars that encompassed the precinct went up to a size calculated to astound: one colossal stone in the Western Wall measures 3 × 13.6 m, and is 1.8–2.5 m deep (Jol, Bauman, and Bahat 2006). There were

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double colonnades all round, and on the south, supported by vaulted substructures (now nicknamed “Solomon’s Stables”), Herod created a new royal stoa/basilica where he could preside, as he could not in the Temple itself, since he was not a priest. On the north, opposite the royal stoa, his palatial fortress Antonia allowed the king and his troops, and later the Roman governors and theirs, to keep an eye on activities in the precinct, while generally obeying the law that no Gentile could enter the barrier that protected the sacred area of the Temple (Netzer 2006, 119–178). Herod imported many Hellenistic/Roman features for his buildings, including vaulted structures, heated bath rooms, frescoed walls, mosaics, colorful opus sectile floors, new pottery and glassware, and made them popular with the upper class (Berlin 2014); but most used local materials and builders, without much use of figural imagery forbidden by the Second Commandment, and his residences contained Jewish features such as the stepped pools usually identified as ritual baths (miqva’ot) and stone vessels, both to be discussed further on. Crucially, his projects did not follow any single tradition: each was determined by its daring placement in the landscape, and was calculated to be unique and impressive (Gleason 2014). Where the Promontory Palace at Caesarea thrust its living quarters (including a rockcut swimming pool) into the sea on a natural promontory, Masada’s Northern Palace cascaded down the cliff in a series of pavilions of varied shapes and spectacular views, while the circular Palace/Fortress at Herodion topped a natural hill, with sub-towers dominating and viewing all quarters of the territory, and was later reshaped into a conical mound to enhance Herod’s own tomb (Porat, Kalman, and Chachy 2015).

The Land and Its Connections For a province that shook the Roman Empire twice, it is remarkable how small the territory of Judaea was, and how varied its terrain: from seaside dunes to plains dotted with ancient tells to forested limestone hills, from fertile lower Galilee and the Jezreel Valley to the wadis and cave-pocked cliffs of deserts to the east and south. The Jordan is its only major nonseasonal river, running from sources near Baniyas along the African/Syrian Rift Valley, feeding the Sea of Galilee, and ending in the Dead Sea. Before the building of Sebastos at Caesarea, its main Mediterranean harbor was Joppa. Trade also passed across the Sea of Galilee between the Golan and Tiberias, as well as across and along the Dead Sea. Many roads long preexisted the province and continued in use, including the Via Maris along the coast from Egypt to Phoenicia, the Jezreel Valley road leading inland past Legio, and the “King’s Highway” from the Red Sea to Damascus (Roll 2005). But the system was bolstered, and the roads paved, bridged, and extended under Rome, especially for troop transport in 69 ce, as documented by the many Latin milestones of the Tenth Legion on the route from the port Sebastos at Caesarea to Scythopolis, the only Decapolis city on the western side of the Jordan, itself well connected to its fellows to the east (in 106 ce, Trajan gave Scythopolis as well as two other Decapolis cities, Pella and Gadara, to the Judaean province, in exchange for Caesarea Philippi/Baniyas, which went to his new province Arabia). The road system expanded under Hadrian, with the new base Legio at its nexus in 120; there was further construction for Hadrian’s visit to the region in 129/30, and later, under Marcus Aurelius, in 162, resulting in a fully integrated trans-regional road system by the third century ce. Though designed for military control of the province, these roads also allowed better communication and trade, and thus increased revenue. Especially after Trajan’s annexation of Arabia, the lucrative caravan trade could bring luxury items up the King’s Highway and across Syria Palaestina to Sebastos at Caesarea, the province’s greatest port.



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Settlement Patterns Josephus (Jewish War 3.35–58) gives a full description of the regions of Judaea at the time of the First Revolt, and though they were generally denominated by the largest city in the area, their limits are often marked by komai, villages. Indeed, the central hills of Samaria and Judea have been called the “heartland of villages” (Falconer 1987). The Roman province burgeoned with both villages and estates, many featuring oil and wine presses, and numerous small (3–5 m wide) nonmilitary roads leading between them. Their development varied, depending on the geographic region in question. Settlements grew in rough Upper Galilee later and more sparsely than in more urbanized Lower Galilee. Villages in Judea were small (1–2.5 hectares) but well-planned, with a central public area, courtyard houses separated by alleys, and building walls creating a perimeter; they flourished from Hasmonean times on, though some were damaged or abandoned after the First Revolt, and all were destroyed after the Second (Eshel and Zissu 2019, 21–24). Samaria appears to have had a system by which tenants cultivated parcels of land centering on small ashlar field towers, but brought their grapes and olives to centralized presses, indicating that they belonged to larger estates, perhaps imperial possessions resulting from confiscation of land (Dar 1986). Hirschfeld (1995, 2007) excavated numerous estate centers that combined elite residences, agricultural and industrial production facilities, and sometimes towers, in many parts of Israel, and his work postulated that their dissemination across Herod’s realm systematized the king’s control of the land through his adherents. Few isolated farmsteads of the Roman period have been fully excavated: one built in the third century and destroyed in the fourth was found east of Sepphoris, but the best known is that at Ramat ha-Nadiv, near Caesarea (Hirschfeld 1995, 52–57). There a 2800 m2 walled compound with tower looked down from its hill onto the fields and coastal plain; within the ample rectilinear courtyard were living quarters with a stepped pool, storerooms, a winepress, oil press, and threshing floor, as well as space for animals. Hirschfeld’s 1995 work, later nuanced by Galor (2003), distinguished an architectural typology of houses throughout and beyond the province, using a wide range (both geographic and temporal) of archaeological and ethnoarchaeological evidence. The dataset was, of course, affected by preservation, which favors hill areas, stone building materials, and locations without much subsequent occupation. Building styles and materials (often drystones as ashlars, fieldstones, cobbles, or pavers) were basically local and topographical, and most centered on a courtyard space, but the urban courtyards, more focused on display than practical uses, often had columns, paving, and mosaics, where the village and rural ones generally had few or none. Hirschfeld’s “peristyle house” seems more an urban elaboration of the rural courtyard house than an imitation of Roman domestic styles. Other signals of wealth and/or status in residences are tiled rather than flat roofs, mosaic floors, heated bathing rooms, and painted plaster, though a few of these also appear at towns like Jotapata and Gamla, perhaps suggesting the pervasive influence of palatial décor of the time of Herod (Berlin 2014). Further features of local building tradition include cisterns (often built before the house itself, to collect water for construction); round clay outdoor ovens; a “window wall” of large stones that allowed light from a courtyard to penetrate to a side room such as a stable and/or storeroom; and in areas where timber was rare, stone arches to support the roof (Hirschfeld 1995, 217–218, 140–141, 267–269, 239–243).

Case Study: The Galilee It is instructive to look at the settlement pattern of one geographic area that has recently seen intensive archaeological exploration: the Galilee. Wide-ranging surveys, including an analysis of coin finds, have combined with excavations of villages, towns, and cities, revealing a complex regional history (Bonnie 2019).

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Analysis of small finds from survey and excavation has made major contributions to illuminating the region’s history and status. Hartal (2008) posited that distribution patterns of local versus imported pottery, rather than being based on religious preferences as previously thought, were due to customs taxes that tended to keep merchandise within provincial borders after 44 ce, when Judaea was separated from Syria. Syon (2015) combined this and relevant survey data with his own analysis of coins found throughout the Galilee, compared with finds from Golan and the coast, to establish the limits of various powers in the region from 300 bce to 260 ce. Small bronze coins offer strong evidence, as they should have had little value outside the realm that guaranteed their worth in silver coin, though bronzes of previous rulers could remain in circulation for some time, and often foreign coins of similar dimensions seem to have been accepted as well. In fact, Syon discerned episodes where the (presumably Jewish) population of cities in the tetrarchies of Antipas and Philip preferred to use aniconic coins from Jerusalem rather than those minted by their overlords, a possible archaeological indicator of ethnicity. Galilee had three urban centers: in order of foundation, Magdala (remains from the Hasmonean period; its synagogue will be discussed), Sepphoris (settled from the late second to early first century bce), and Tiberias (founded by the tetrarch Antipas). Each of these cities produced few archaeological finds from its foundation; for Sepphoris and Tiberias, evidence increased with the first century ce, and both finds and inhabited area dramatically expanded with the second, though Magdala withered as Tiberias flourished and replaced it as the prominent port on the Sea of Galilee’s western shore. Both Sepphoris and Tiberias had already become cities of the Roman province when Antipas died after 39 ce, and both later evinced their loyalty to the Emperor not just with the usual obverse portrait on their civic coins but by taking imperial names: Tiberias as (likely) Claudiopolis, and Sepphoris as Diocaesarea. Sepphoris was also known as Eirenopolis, “City of Peace,” as it did not join in the First (or Second) Revolt, but remained loyal to Rome, as did many other places in the Galilee; to its north, however, the town of Jotapata did rise in the First Revolt, and was destroyed, as will be discussed. Second century growth in both number and size of sites in the Galilee was probably due to the relative peace and prosperity in the area, as well as an influx of Jews displaced from Judea after the Bar Kochba Revolt (Bonnie 2019, 232–240).

Chorazin, a Galilaean Village One excavated Galilaean village is Chorazin, on a hillside overlooking the Sea of Galilee from the north (Bonnie 2019, 229–230; Hirschfeld 1995, 68–70). Though mentioned in the Gospels (Matthew 11.21), Chorazin’s houses mostly date to the third century, with a fourth or fifth century synagogue built in their midst; the village lasted well into the Byzantine era. The houses ranged in size from 16 to 900 sq. m, with some sharing party walls, and were laid out along the hill’s natural contours between narrow, irregular streets. Built of local basalt (blocks for walls, cobbles for floors), they generally had large central courtyards surrounded by smaller rooms, sometimes with “window walls” for stables; one featured a stepped pool. Several olive presses were found at the site’s perimeters, indicating an important village product.

Sepphoris, a Galilaean City Sepphoris is the most intensively excavated city in the Galilee. Located on a hilltop along the major route from the Sea of Galilee to the coast, the earliest significant architectural remains are a close-set complex of houses of the early first century ce (Meyers, Meyers, and Gordon



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2018). Later, around the second quarter of the second century, a new grid-planned quarter extended east down the hill along the plateau (Bonnie 2019, 48–64). Construction at Sepphoris (including churches and a synagogue) lasted well into the Byzantine period. In its early phase, the upper city had a few large courtyard houses, but the rest were mainly middle sized (10 × 18  m average) with no more than two stories, simple plaster or earth floors, and no frescoes or mosaics (Meyers, Meyers, and Gordon 2018, 20–26). Each house seems to have had its own small rock-cut or stone-built stepped pool, while some had a pair and the biggest had three large ones. A narrow, drained, and eventually fieldstone-paved street and some alleys perpendicular to it gave passage between irregular blocks of partywalled housing units, and the buildings downhill to the north of the summit had a different orientation from the main excavated block. As well as a huge public water storage system, earlier houses of the upper city had individual cisterns holding ca. 30–50 cu. m, probably enough for a year’s supply per household. These and the stepped pools were later filled with refuse, and the lower city’s houses were supplied by Sepphoris’ two (likely contemporary) aqueducts. Sited at a higher level 6 km from the city, they mainly ran in channels and tunnels to fill a rock-cut reservoir and cistern system. At least two sizable bath complexes in Sepphoris’ new lower city depended on the aqueducts’ supply, though vaulted cisterns, part of the support system of a major courtyard building of the second century ce, were found in recent Hebrew University excavations on the slope between the acropolis and the lower city (Weiss 2015). The lower part of Sepphoris’ theater was cut into its western hillside, but its upper cavea was built on vaults, and its shape is semicircular in the Italian style. Though often attributed to Antipas, who had made Sepphoris his seat before founding Tiberias, stratigraphic evidence indicates that it was built in the late first century ce at earliest. Perhaps the most lavish residence is the multilevel House of Dionysos, built over earlier domestic remains (including a stepped pool) on the western hill in the late second to early third century. It had shops or storerooms fronting on the street to its south, and centered on a courtyard with columns on three sides. Facing (but not axially) onto that was a dining room with unusual multiple entry points, centered on elaborate Dionysiac mosaics and flanked by mosaic-floored corridors. Rooms north of that included a latrine, bath, and storage room. The grid-planned lower city had similar large, decorated houses (e.g., House of Orpheus, House of the Fountain), also with shops along one side, clustering around the public buildings in the lower city, including a “basilical building,” perhaps a market (Bonnie 2019, 55–61). The street grid (dated after 119 ce by coin evidence, Bonnie 2019, 49–50) appears to have followed the line of the western hill’s length down into the plateau, so that one main street, paved in flagstones and flanked by porticoed sidewalks, ran northwest to southeast, and the other perpendicular to that. There were two large bath complexes on either side of the main street; the eastern one (obscured by the later Nile Festival Building) was possibly of the same date as the street grid itself, and featured a caldarium with stone supports, a stepped pool, and two vaulted cisterns. The western one likely dates to the second half of the third century, and is better preserved. A mosaic-floored changing room and paved courtyard could be identified, as could a furnace and hypocaust system under two rooms on the southeast side, but the arrangement as a series of small rooms, one octagonal, others rectangular flanked by semicircular tubs or spaces for splash basins, is unusual. Prominently placed among these public buildings and aligned with the grid in both direction and date was a northeast-facing temple, ca. 12 × 24 m, in a precinct of ca. 50 × 56 m. Unfortunately, a later church erased most evidence for its superstructure, but it appears to have been pseudoperipteral and raised on a podium approached from the front, in Roman style; there is no evidence for the object of cult besides later coins, which show temples for Zeus, the Capitoline Triad, and Tyche (Lichtenberger 2017). The building of the temple falls close to the time that Sepphoris was renamed Diocaesarea, and it is possible that its dedication was to Zeus and/or the emperors (Bonnie 2019, 98–102).

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Judaea’s Great Cities Jerusalem Jerusalem’s irregular, hilly topography was intensively inhabited from the Bronze Age to the present, and still rings with disputes over origins and sacred spaces, so its Roman phase is difficult to disentangle (Figure 29.2). On the east side of the city, Herod had aggrandized the second Temple and its precinct; he added his own palace on the northwest side, with defense towers and walls controlling access to it and the city. Streets and plazas paved with large stones and lined with shops followed along the west and south side of the Herodian Temple Mount. Herod also increased the city’s water supply with aqueducts leading from the Judaean hills to the huge “Pools of Solomon” southwest of Bethlehem, and thence to the city. A close-set series of townhouses of Herodian and later times was excavated in the Jewish Quarter of the Old City by Nahman Avigad (Geva 2000-). Multistoried and built to accommodate the irregular terrain, they generally had many rooms around a central courtyard. Though full of imported pottery and glass, and decorated with Roman-style stucco, wall paintings, and mosaics, there was little to no figural decoration, and the houses contained stepped pools and softstone vessels and tables, both taken as signs of Jewish observance, as will be discussed further on; in a mansion dubbed “The Burnt House,” Avigad even found a stone weight naming the priestly family Bar Kathros. That house also showed the clearest signs of the fiery destruction wreaked on the city during the First Revolt, including the bones of a young woman caught on the basement stairs when the house collapsed upon her. Though the Temple precinct itself has been changed over history and only its peripheries and debris can currently be archaeologically explored, clear remains of its destruction in 70 ce have been found. Stones from the precinct walls, some showing the decorative pilasters of the upper story, were found where they crashed into a stone-paved street on the southwest side of the Temple Mount. Several hoards contained burnt and blistered coins, the latest dated to year four of the revolt, April 69 to March 70 ce (Bijovsky 2009). Hadrian, always favorable toward cities, likely meant to restore this ruined Jerusalem by making it the Roman colony of Aelia Capitolina, by 130 ce; but he only dashed Jewish hopes of rebuilding the Temple, helping to bring on the Second Revolt. The colony was likely laid out before the Revolt, mostly within the sixteenth century walls that now outline the Old City (Avni and Stiebel 2017; Weksler-Bdolah 2020, 51–60). Many scholars situate the camp of the Tenth Legion in the western part of the Old City, where the walls and towers of Herod’s former Palace were available for reuse (Weksler-Bdolah 2020, 3–14, 19–50). Also largely reused were the water systems of Herodian Jerusalem, which were abundant enough to need only minor extensions in the Roman period (Weksler-Bdolah 2020, 147– 160). Literary sources, inscriptions, and coins attest to Aelia Capitolina’s temples of Jupiter/ the Capitoline Triad, Venus, and (Jupiter) Serapis; the latter was honored with a dedication by a unit of the Third Legion Cyrenaica in 116/17, before the foundation of the colony (CIIP 1.2.705; Weksler-Bdolah 2020, 14–16, 45–46, 110–126). There was a council of decurions (CIIP 1.2.728); a small, partly unfinished, theater under the Wilson Bridge near the western wall of the Temple Mount, radiocarbon dated to 95–135 ce, could have been meant as their meeting place and/or an odeion (Regev et al. 2020). Some elements of a grid plan were imposed, though Jerusalem’s natural topography of hills and valleys had to be accommodated. A main avenue, likely of Herodian origin, led from the west gate eastward across the city and over the Tyropoieion valley on a 100 m long, 8–10 m wide viaduct (the Wilson Bridge or Great Causeway) up to the Temple Mount, where the Temple of Jupiter may have been built. It likely intersected with one major colonnaded north–south street, the “west cardo” (whose exposed southern extension is Byzantine), and



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Figure 29.2  Plan of Roman Jerusalem, by John Wallrodt.

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its viaduct passed over another “cardo” farther east, which ran southeast from the north (now Damascus) gate along the Tyropoieion valley, then turned to run parallel with and ca. 100 m west of the west wall of the Temple Mount (Weksler-Bdolah 2020, 65–110). This Hadrianic colonnaded street had an 8 m wide roadway, with vaulted or slab-topped drains beneath its diagonally laid limestone pavers, flanked by two 1.5 m wide raised sidewalks and then two higher 6.5 m wide porticoes, to a total of 24 m; at one section, one-room shops were cut into the bedrock along its western side, while two paved sidestreets led off it eastward. Reused Corinthian column capitals were found nearby, and the street broadened as it likely terminated at a (not yet discovered) southern gate beyond the Old City’s walls. The city’s boundaries were mostly unwalled, but gates marked where main roads entered to become civic thoroughfares. The triple-arched northern gate (below the current Damascus Gate) dates to ca. 135–150, and just inside was a semicircular plaza centered on a column, according to the sixth century Madaba mosaic map (Weksler-Bdolah 2020, 18, 60–66). Other important civic nodes were also marked with triple arches: one for the entry of what may have been the Forum, in the area of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, thus the likely site of the Temple of Venus, as will be seen; and the “Ecce Homo arch,” set where a major (17 m wide total) road running from the “eastern cardo” toward the city’s east gate encountered a 32 × 48 m paved plaza (the “lithostratos”; Weksler-Bdolah 2020, 71–74, 100–106). West of this were found the remains of a private house built in the Roman period; it had a peristyle courtyard and several rooms whose ceilings were upheld by stone arches (WekslerBdolah 2020, 106 fig. 63, 130). Baths, latrines, and bakeries, often built with bricks of the Tenth Legion (produced at the pottery factory at Binyanei Ha’umah, about two Roman miles away) were found between the western wall of the Temple Mount and the “eastern cardo.” Aelia Capitolina was profoundly changed from the start of the fourth century, when the Tenth Legion was transferred south to Aila. Later Constantine ordered that the sites of Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection be cleared of the Temple of Venus that stood there (i.e., near the space now identified as the Forum) and replaced with what is today the Church of the Holy Sepulcher (Eusebius, Life of Constantine 3.25–40). On the city’s southwest hill, the Church of Holy Zion was built in the later fourth century, while Constantine’s mother Helena built the Church of the Eleone outside the city, on the Mount of Olives (Weksler-Bdolah 2020, 131–146). A residential quarter of houses with courtyards and colonnades, separated by small streets and alleys, expanded south of the Temple Mount; there was at least one well-decorated peristyle house, and several two-­ storied, sometimes reusing rooftiles from the Tenth Legion works. The area was included in a new city wall, built at the end of the century, parts of which underlie the walls of the Old City. Jerusalem (as it was again known) suffered a severe earthquake in 363 ce, and though some houses were abandoned, much was rebuilt and even improved, e.g., Justinian’s Nea Church that monumentalized the “western cardo”; the city and province as a whole largely benefited from its new role as the center of Christian pilgrimage.

Caesarea Herod had already built Caesarea and its harbor Sebastos as not just modern but staggeringly innovative ca. 22–12 bce, so there was little need for updating in the early Roman period (Burrell 2009; Figure 29.3). Caesarea became a Roman colony around 71 ce, with Latin as its official language, though inscriptions in Greek continued (CIIP vol. 2). Herod’s Temple of Augustus and Roma remained the center of the city and cynosure of the harbor, and Herod’s Palace became the Praetorium, headquarters of the Roman governors. With the destruction of Jerusalem in the First Revolt, and as the province’s major port, Caesarea became the seat of the governors of Judaea. Inscriptions mention a Tibereium (perhaps a



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Figure 29.3  Plan of second century Caesarea on Sebastos by Anna Iamim, courtesy of Anna Iamim and the Promontory Palace Excavations at Caesarea Maritima.

lighthouse, matching one called Drusion in Herod’s harbor Sebastos), and a Hadrianeum, which has not been located. Literary references, as well as later mosaics and architectural elements, attest to the presence of one or more synagogues in Caesarea, which had a substantial Jewish population before the ethnic hostility that broke out in the city in 66 ce helped spark the First Revolt. The streets of Herod’s Caesarea were surfaced with crushed local sandstone, but were repaved with limestone blocks in Roman times. Though Josephus (Antiquities 15.341) stated

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that there was an agora (marketplace) in Caesarea, none has yet been identified; most of those in Judaea are second century ce at earliest (Bonnie 2019, 121–124). Though most houses yet found at Caesarea are Byzantine, remains of a predecessor (or two), the “House of the Dioscuri,” lie under one mansion northeast of the seaside hippodrome (Gersht and Gendelman 2017). Apparently built in the early first century ce, renovated in the 70s, and built over in the first half of the third century, it consisted of two units. The southern one had an off-axis entry at its southeast corner leading to a Roman-style atrium with impluvium. The northern one was mainly occupied by a peristyle garden in Italian style, though a stepped pool was found in the bath rooms of its western wing; this was kept in use and even received an opus sectile floor in the early second century. There were elaborate but nonfigural wall paintings and mosaics (the latter constructed onsite in a temporary workshop) in both units, but the distyle-in-antis reception hall that faced out on the garden was decorated with marble sculptures of the Dioscuri that gave the house its name, and relief sculptures, figural lamps, pig bones, and Roman pottery were among the finds. Though one may be tempted to see this complex as Jewish property confiscated after the First Revolt and remade in more Roman style for new owners, such ethnic assignments are more difficult to prove than they may appear, as will be discussed later. Though subject to damage and silting, Sebastos harbor continued to function as the main import center for supplies as well as armies at the time of the Second Revolt. Hadrian’s troops built the city a new aqueduct alongside the arches of the (probably) Herodian one to augment the city’s water supply (a subterranean line was added at the end of the third century). This was also when large amounts of marble began to be imported, not only for Caesarea (several of whose major streets were lined with marble columns) but to embellish cities farther inland. Herod’s Promontory Palace also needed few alterations to make it the Roman governors’ Praetorium from 6 ce on (Burrell 1996). In the residential wing, the main reception and dining room was opened out to look over and then extend into the peristyle and swimming pool in the center of the building, and was refurbished with an apse and fountain at its back, plus periodic refloorings in fine mosaic; installation of a heated bathing suite nearby made it yet more luxurious. On either side of the Palace’s towered entrance to its public courtyard, a jumble of rooms was fitted in to accommodate the governors’ staff: mosaics and inscriptions specify headquarters for centurions, assistants to the guards, and frumentarii or “secret police,” and on the south there was a bath complex. The Herodian theater, built off-grid to look toward the Palace from the south, received several facelifts up to the Severan period (including a new marble-style stage set) and remained in service, but the multipurpose hippodrome/stadium adjoining the Palace on the north was modified more extensively, first in its starting gate system, and then for use as an amphitheater after the third century; it was decommissioned and built over in the fourth. Hadrianic projects included a replacement hippodrome, featuring a central obelisk and markers of red Egyptian granite, on the city’s eastern outskirts, as well as an amphitheater in the northeast and a triplearched gate north of that. A second theater or large odeon was built in the south of the city in the third century, attesting to the continued relevance of musical competitions and/or civic meetings. All these were eventually included within an extended city wall in the fourth century. A government building, possibly a seat of the financial procurator of the province, had been built north of the Herodian hippodrome in the first century. It had a basilical hall facing the sea, and its other three sides were edged by a reflecting pool, though oddly, its main approach appears to have been from the pool side, and all its phases featured a fountain or cistern and latrines (Patrich 2018, 19–20, 33–35, 109–119). Around the third century, one of the long vaults that upheld the building was refurbished as a Mithraeum. The complex would have a long history, well into Byzantine times, when it held the imperial revenue office and perhaps even the law courts of the governor (Patrich 2011, 211–223).



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Sites of Resistance: First Revolt Both the First and Second Revolts against Rome had notable archaeological implications, with the introduction of novel coinages in rebel areas, written attestations such as the Masada documents and ostraka, archives and remains from refuge caves, sites of battle and siege, Roman camps, and destruction layers. Of course, dating of archaeological remains was based on historical literature, which leads to the usual circular argument about its basis; most archaeologists use the times of the two Revolts as fixed points. But as Jerusalem’s burnt mansions and fallen Temple Precinct stones have already shown, there is so much archaeological evidence for both the First and Second Revolts that if you want to see the material results of resistance to Rome, Judaea is the place to do it.

Jotapata The site of Josephus’ “last stand” in 67 ce started as a late Hellenistic town on a fortified hill in western Galilee (Aviam 2002). Remains of five houses have been revealed within and without the fortification walls. Domestic remains included cisterns, stepped pools, storage rooms, ovens, pottery and stone vessels, and spindle whorls; one house in the town was more elaborately ­decorated than others, with painted plaster walls and decorated floors. Coin finds ran up to 60 ce; there were also pottery kilns, and an oil press in a cave. Above and in some places behind the Hellenistic walls or on top of earlier buildings were hasty and discretely constructed fortifications of the mid-first century ce, which the excavators identify as the ones that Josephus wrote that he built to defend the town (Jewish War 3.158–159, 175–175). Though Josephus’ account of the siege and violent destruction of Jotapata are highly dramatized and self-­ exculpatory, archaeological remains attest to its basic truth: finds included many iron arrowheads (both bow and catapult), ballista balls, remains of what may have been the Roman siege ramp on the town’s north side, and bones of over twenty individuals, most found in a cistern.

Gamla The site identified as Gamla offered an opportunity for Syon (2002) to “filter” Josephus’ words (Jewish War 4.1-83) through the archaeological remains. Gamla lay east of the Sea of Galilee, within the realm of Agrippa II: the houses, notable synagogue, stepped pools, knifepared lamps, and stone vessels, as well as earlier Hasmonean and Hellenistic coins, attest to Jewish occupation (Syon and Yavor 2006-). That Gamla was crowded with First Revolt refugees from Galilee and the neighboring countryside is shown by ovens, hearths, storage jars and cooking vessels found in the paved public square, and even in the synagogue. Moreover, the only examples of a very rare Revolt-style bronze coin have been found, and were possibly made, at Gamla. A hastily built wall, using rough materials and preexisting buildings rather than unified construction, has been identified as the one Josephus had built for the town’s defense, and the over 2000 ballista balls and 1600 arrowheads (both bow and catapult) attest to the ferocity of the Roman attack and destruction in 67 ce.

Masada At the start of the First Revolt, bands of Jewish rebels headed out across the country and took over several of Herod the Great’s fortresses, as these were designed to both control the countryside and hold out against siege. At Herodion, one group adapted Herod’s circular Palace/

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Fortress for their own use, introducing a synagogue; another later destroyed the hated king’s tomb and sarcophagus (Porat, Kalman, and Chachy 2015). At Machaerus, the rebels held out long enough for the Romans to build camps around the fortress as well as a siege wall and stone assault ramp, but the latter was never finished, as the defenders surrendered (Josephus, Jewish War 7.163–209; Vörös 2013–15 II, 228–233). Of these Herodian and rebel sites, the most famous is Masada (Magness 2019; Masada 1989–2007; Figure 29.4). Herod had carefully prepared the high rock to withstand siege: it had strong casemate fortifications, his Northern Palace flaunted a battery of storerooms, there were gardens to grow fresh food, and the site’s twelve cistern/reservoirs held up to 40,000 m3 of water in the desert. Occupied by rebels and refugees during the First Revolt, its facilities were modified for their purposes, with evidence of people living and working in and around the Herodian buildings and casemates, now subdivided with flimsier walls: cookstoves and

Figure 29.4  Plan of Masada with Roman military structures around it, by John Wallrodt.



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ovens were installed, and one casemate in Herod’s fortifications was made into a synagogue with plastered benches around it. Thirteen more stepped pools were added to the eight already built (Grossberg 2007, 95–126). Masada’s arid climate has preserved parchment and papyrus fragments, food (e.g., pomegranates, figs, and olives), sandals, clothing, wooden implements (including lice-infested combs and even hair), in addition to the usual pottery and softstone vessels, iron arrowheads apparently manufactured in Herod’s Western Palace, loomweights and spindle whorls representing women’s work and presence, silver coins of the rebellion, and potsherds with Aramaic, Hebrew, or Greek writing by Masada’s defenders. Masada housed about a thousand rebels and refugees until Flavius Silva, governor of Judaea, arrived with his legions for a terrifyingly efficient siege. Again the Romans built a siege wall, plus eight camps and an assault ramp, but in this case, at least as portrayed by Josephus (Jewish War 7.252–407), the defenders chose death rather than surrender; there is still debate on Josephus’ dependability and how human remains found on the site should be interpreted. The archaeological evidence for Masada’s siege and destruction, at least, are overwhelming: the signs of burning and destruction on the rock, remains of weapons and armor of attackers and defenders, and the camps themselves.

Roman Military Sites Masada, Continued Masada is also the most impressive Roman military site in Judaea: the Romans’ encircling wall, towers, encampments, and siege ramp still stand out against the bleak landscape, even though the siege itself was probably brief (Cotton 2007; Figure 29.4). A 1995 excavation clarified much about the army’s procedure and equipment (Magness 2019, 6–16). Perhaps eight thousand troops of the Tenth Legion Fretensis and accompanying auxiliaries marched to the area near the Dead Sea. Upon arrival, the troops used abundant local stones to build a circumvallation wall about 3 m high and ca. 4500 m long around Masada, including fifteen watchtowers on the east and north sides and five rectangular camps for troops on the west and south, to keep the rebels in and relief for them out. There were also three separate camps outside the wall; the largest (F), excavated in 1995, likely included the commander Flavius Silva’s headquarters (Josephus, Jewish War 7.277). By the intersection of the two paths that crossed the camp was a building identifiable as Silva’s quarters, where sherds of fine pottery and glass were found; beside it were a stone tribunal platform and nearby a dining room for the highest-ranking officers. The principia, or official headquarters, were distinguished by plastered walls and floors; the barracks for legionaries consisted of many small rooms (contubernia) meant to house eight men in one leather tent; lined with stone and dirt benches for eating and sleeping, each had a small enclosure in front with a hearth for cooking. Little pottery was found except for storage jars, indicating that soldiers used their own mess kits; food and water had to be carried from the other, Dead Sea, side of the circumvallation, brought there from great distances, as there were no local supplies. Excavation also revealed how the great siege ramp on Masada’s west side was built: the Romans began on a natural spur of the mountain, built the ramp higher by making a timber bracing of what wood was available, including tamarisk and date palm, to pack with stones, rubble, and earth, and on the top erected a stone platform for a battering ram, which eventually enabled them to breach Herod’s casemate walls and then burn the rebels’ wooden wall. When Masada had been destroyed, they departed, leaving a few troops in Silva’s former camp to guard the site.

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Binyanei Ha’umah When the First Revolt ended, the Tenth Legion Fretensis made Jerusalem their station. Though the exact location and layout of their camp is uncertain (see above), their ceramics factory, producing pottery, pipes, bricks, and tiles stamped with the legion’s seal, was found about 3 km west of the Old City, when the Jerusalem International Convention Center/ Binyanei Ha’umah was being built at Giv’at Ram (Arubas and Goldfus 2005; WekslerBdolah 2020, 184–185). Here a workshop featuring stepped pools, oval kilns, a reservoir, and cisterns had produced cooking wares from the late Hasmonean period up to the time of the First Revolt. The site was then taken over by the legion’s factory, which adapted the reservoir for continued use and divided the facility into discrete areas for refining clay, wheel-throwing, drying, and an array of kilns for firing; even a terracotta stamp with LXF on it was found. Production may have begun as early as the Flavian period and lasted until ca. 200 ce. An estate building with winepress and bath suite using Tenth Legion stamped bricks was found less than a kilometer away, and petrographic analysis has confirmed that bricks from Binyanei Ha’uma were used as far away as Caesarea on Sebastos (Goren 2005, 192–194).

Tel Shalem In the early second century, Legio became the apt name for the base of the Sixth Legion Ferrata, which controlled the strategic east–west road through the Jezreel Valley (Tepper, David, and Adams 2016). An inscription documenting a vexillatio (detachment) of that legion was found at Tel Shalem, ca. 40  km to the southeast, another strategic point controlling passage of the Jordan River toward Syria and Arabia; finds in the area included a unique bronze armored statue of Hadrian and fragments of a monumental Latin inscription, also to Hadrian, probably from a triumphal arch. Subsequent geophysical prospection and excavation at Tel Shalem revealed remains of a Roman camp whose inscriptions and brickstamps identify it as headquarters for the Seventh Phrygian cavalry unit (Ecker et al. 2019). Built in the late first to early second century, with a possible civilian settlement ca. 70 m to its north, the camp expanded over time to 210 × 140 m in size, and may been manned as late as the mid-third century (Arubas et al. 2019). It had the playing-card-shaped perimeter walls and crossing roads typical of a Roman camp, with internal structures generally of mudbrick on stone foundations, including barracks, a bathhouse with caldarium (first plaster-floored, later mosaic), and central principia. Excavation of the latter revealed the camp’s apsidal aedes (shrine): its foundation was Roman-style concrete topped with mudbrick, and its second phase interior was lined with attached and standing columns to form a central nave and surrounding aisle, with glass windowpanes. Inscriptions document that the unit’s prefect, Pomponius Sanctianus, had elaborate mosaic flooring installed ca. 197–209 ce, with a dedication to the unit’s symbol, the Capricorn, at the head of the apse, and statues of Septimius Severus and Caracalla at the entryway.

Second Revolt Sites Unlike the First Revolt, in which leaders of various factions openly defended towns and strongholds, the Second Revolt was more of a guerrilla campaign, with rebels attacking Roman forces from strong points and then retreating to subterranean hideouts, as Cassius Dio described (69.12.1, epitome by Xiphilinus; Eshel and Zissu 2019). Hiding complexes



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were dug in and around farms, estates, and villages, mainly in the Judean foothills, where burrowlike and twisting passages connected (often preexisting) features like cisterns, stepped pools, storerooms, olive presses, and dovecots, with camoflaged entrances and stones to seal the inhabitants in a hidden chamber until danger had passed (Zissu and Kloner 2020). Apparently much of Galilee was not directly involved (Zissu and Hendin 2012); though that region had also had hiding complexes, they often used natural caves or were rock-hewn, so the dates at which they were prepared or used are hard to determine archeologically (Shivtiel 2017). Nonetheless, a large, prosperous village of two-story houses at Khirbat Wadi Hamam, 2 km west of the Sea of Galilee, was thoroughly destroyed after 125 ce, likely in connection with the revolt (Leibner and Bijovsky 2013).

Herodion Explorations at Herodion have provided almost an illustration of Cassius Dio’s description of the Second Revolt. Deserted after the First Revolt, Herod’s Palace/Fortress/Tomb was once again occupied as a rebel stronghold, commanded by one Yeshua son of Galgula, according to documents found in the refuge caves of Wadi Muraba’at (Porat et al. 2017). This time the rebels not only lived in the fortress but cut and dug elaborate tunnel systems and sally ports through the structures and even the mountain itself, buttressing them where necessary with timbers taken from the buildings, and dumping the refuse in the Herodian cisterns (with two held back for water supply) so that no sign of their operations would be seen from below. These were not the usual village crawlspace complexes, but tall enough that men could stand and run for attack or defense. They are distinguishable from First Revolt remains by stratigraphy, a multitude of Second Revolt coins and arrowheads, and the hundreds of ballista stones that rained on the mountain, especially at the tunnels’ exit points on the northern slopes. A burnt layer at the fortress’s entry, scorched and collapsed wooden beams, calcinated stones, and some skeletal remains illumine the final Roman destruction, though as mentioned, a number of fighters were able to anticipate the attack and escape to the caves at Wadi Muraba’at.

The Cave of Letters The Judaean desert is full of cliffside caves, many carefully modified and disguised to provide refuge to those in revolt and/or fleeing Roman punishment for it. Perhaps the most famous Second Revolt site is the Cave of Letters on the north side of Nahal Hever, a canyon south of ‘Ein Gedi. Found there were letters from Bar Kochba and his aides to the local commanders, as well as humble wooden bowls, well-wrapped glass plates and bronze vessels, house keys (likely to the refugees’ houses in ‘Ein Gedi), baskets, woven clothing and mats, leather sandals, and seventeen skeletons (of all ages and both sexes) of those who died under siege by the Romans encamped above. There were documents written in Greek, Aramaic, Hebrew, and Nabataean, including a leather bag containing the personal archive of Babatha daughter of Shimon, a woman whose background of marriages, homes, and languages illustrates the complexity of life in that time and place (Yadin 1963–2002).

Betar Bar Kochba held out against the Romans at Betar in the Judean hills, only 11 km southwest of Jerusalem on the road to Eleutheropolis and Gaza. Betar’s own fortifications, hastily added to complete the lines of earlier (as far back as the Middle Bronze Age) walls, as well as

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Roman siege walls and two camps south of the site, are preserved in the landscape; some slingstones and a few arrowheads of the type used by the rebels were found, as well as rockcut inscriptions naming detachments of the legions Fifth Macedonica and Eleventh Claudia sent to besiege Betar (CIIP 4.3189; Eshel and Zissu 2019, 118–121; Weksler-Bdolah 2020, 187–189). Bar Kochba was killed there; amid great slaughter, the revolt was quelled in 136, and Aelia Capitolina could be triumphantly completed. Survey and excavation around Judea show that Hadrian’s decree evicted Jews not just from the new colony, but from its countryside: Jewish sites disappeared, manor houses/villas came in their place, and burial practices (cremation, cist or shaft graves, lead coffins), epitaphs, engraved gems, and other remains reflected a new Roman culture group (Avni 2017, 123–130; Kloner, Klein, and Zissu 2017, 131–141; Weksler-Bdolah 2020, 151–200).

Archaeology and Religious Practice As was recognized in its initial name, Judaea was the province of Jews, and material culture shows their presence as clearly as the still powerful substructures of Herod’s Temple precinct in Jerusalem. Of course, other ethnic groups lived in the province, including Samaritans, Ituraeans, Idumaeans, Syrians, and other Hellenized peoples, Roman citizens, and soldiers. Inscriptions in Aramaic, Samaritan Hebrew, Greek, and some Latin, as well as Hebrew, have been found. But as can be expected in a state whose history in the land is a potent and contested claim, discussion often focuses on signifiers of Jewish culture and practice; for example, funerary practices identified as Jewish, often in caves with alcoves and secondary placement in ossuaries, are more widely noted than others (for a summary, Magness 2012, 230–255). Yet such signifiers are not always as clear as they might at first appear.

Synagogues A synagogue should be an incontrovertible sign of Jewish presence, but these are harder to archaeologically identify than they might seem, which is why there is hot debate about the identification and phasing of many such buildings (Doering and Krause 2020). One is documented solely by an inscription of the first century ce found in Jerusalem (CIIP 1.1.53–56): it states that the priest and archisynagogos Theodotos founded a synagogue for reading Torah and teaching the commandments, along with a guest room and other rooms serving visitors from abroad. In fact, “synagogue” is more a functional term than an architectural one, involving a roofed building with seating (if preserved) for a congregation, and a place (if preserved) for Torah scrolls; inscriptions or depictions of Jewish symbols may seal the identification. The synagogue excavated at Gamla surely existed by the early first century ce, as the town was destroyed in the First Revolt (above), and its form is often treated as canonical: a rectangular peristyle hall with rows of steps/benches facing the center, in this case with a stepped pool outside its door, though the building technique, materials, and placement were due to local circumstances (Bonnie 2019, 189–191). At Magdala in Galilee, a first century rectangular peristyle hall with aniconic mosaics and painted walls, whose aisles were ringed with steps/ benches on both inner and outer sides, was further identified as a synagogue by “the Magdala stone,” sculpted with a menorah and other Jewish symbols, found there (Doering 2020, 127–153). First Revolt rebels refitted rooms in Herod’s fortresses at Masada and (likely) Herodion as synagogues by adding bench seating.



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But after all of these were abandoned or destroyed in or after the First (or Second) Revolt, there is a pronounced gap in securely identified synagogue buildings. With previous stylistic chronologies now being updated by stratigraphic analyses, there seem to have been few synagogues of the later first and second centuries ce. Though new finds are being proposed to fill this gap, there must be rigor in their interpretation: it is dangerous to assume that any monumental building in a Jewish region must be a synagogue, and that any building remains beneath a late synagogue must be an earlier synagogue (pace Osband, Ben David, and Arubas 2020). Synagogues began to appear again in the third to fourth centuries, e.g., at Khirbat Wadi Hamam, perhaps Meiron, and Beth Shearim period III (Hachlili 2013, 23–54; Bonnie 2019, 171–207; Leibner 2020, 43–69).

Stepped Pools and Softstone Vessels Also accepted as signifiers of Jewish practices are the stepped pools identified as miqva’ot, and vessels made of soft limestone or chalkstone; the one was used to ensure or restore the body’s purity, the other to do the same for food and drink (though see Miller 2018, 445–475). They mainly appear in the core areas of Judea and Galilee, and not in the lands of their immediate but non-Jewish neighbors, like Samaria, Syria, and Arabia (Adler 2017a). It is noteworthy, however, that synagogues, stepped pools, and softstone vessels are not (so far as we know) immemorial in the territory that became Judaea, but appear in the first century bce and fade out after the second century century ce: that is, they come in with the Hasmoneans, and go out of use after the Second, or in some cases as early as after the First, Revolt. These end dates still need to be confirmed, as stepped pools have previously been dated by the last habitation of their sites, instead of the terminus of the fill that put them out of service; and fragments of stone vessels can often be found as rubbish in strata later than their time of use. Bonnie’s effort to do this for the Galilee found the steepest falloff in both after the First Revolt, and a virtual disappearance after the Second (Bonnie 2019, 287–318). On the other hand, significant numbers of softstone vessels were found in the lower city and farmhouse of Sepphoris in use contexts of the third and fourth centuries ce (Sherman et al. 2020), so close research must continue to home in on origins and endpoints for both pools and vessels.

Cults and Images Then there is negative evidence: Jewish sites should have no statues or temples, as these were forbidden by the First and Second Commandments, so if few or none are found, sites are often deemed Jewish. This as a “pig problem,” like that faced by scholars of Iron Age settlements in the same region: early Iron Age sites can’t be identified as Jewish based solely on the fact that no pig bones were found, first because this is an argument from absence of evidence, second because many of these sites would not have been hospitable to pig-breeding anyway, and third because we do not really know what dietary laws tenth-century bce Jews observed, as later writings and restrictions cannot be used to reconstruct what was done or thought centuries earlier (Adler 2017b). Roman period Jews, however, may have been more inclined to tolerate or even participate (to some extent) in one non-Jewish cult: that of the emperors. Herod the Great was the first to establish temples to Augustus in his realm, mainly outside Judea, but the presence of such a temple in Caesarea’s center did not stop Jews from settling there or claiming citizenship (Burrell 2020). Indeed, a lintel inscription dated 198–199 ce on a structure identified as a

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rural temple at Qatzion in the Galilee states, “For the health and well-being of our lord emperors the Caesars L. Sept(imius) Sev(erus) Pius Pert(inax) Aug(ustus) and M. Aur(elius) Antoninus [and P. Septimius Geta – this part erased after his death in 212] his sons, from a vow of the Jews.” This suggests that, just as had been done with sacrifices in the Jerusalem Temple before its destruction, the building (whether cultic or not) was dedicated on behalf of the health and well-being of the Severan imperial family, not to them as gods (Bonnie 2019, 115–116, 138–139, 152–156). As mentioned above, Sepphoris in the Galilee minted civic bronze coins with images of gods in temples on them, and even took the name Diocaesarea, honoring the emperor and/ as Zeus; yet later documents describe it as a Jewish city and seat of Rabbinic learning. How could such major signs of accommodation to Helleno-Roman civic norms as temples, in stone or on coins, have been tolerated or even made by the Jews who were a major population of this city and region (Bonnie 2019, 115–170)? In fact, we do not know whether Jews did or didn’t endow or tolerate temples or participate in some rites, as archaeologically we can’t pinpoint the people who built or used these structures, except where inscriptions tell us, as at Qatzion. Thus, finding few or no temples or statues doesn’t necessarily mean the inhabitants were Jews; and finding temples, either in stone or on coins, does not mean they weren’t. The same applies to depictions of humans or animals, whether in sculpture, painting, coins, or mosaic. During the time of Herod and up to the first Revolt, this was a flashpoint to some Jews: an eagle over the gate of the Temple in Jerusalem, or golden panoplies in the nearby Theater, sparked protests by religious activists, though previously animal images had appeared on Judaean coins and buildings, and human images would become common even on synagogue mosaics in the fourth and fifth centuries ce. But then beliefs and practices differed from town to town as well as from time to time: though later both Hammath Tiberias and Sepphoris installed zodiac mosaics on their synagogue floors, the first had no objection to centering its zodiac on the god Helios in his chariot, while the second showed the sun as a radiant orb, though still in a chariot. It could be that the spread of stepped pools and stone vessels, like this streak of iconoclasm, were material ways of "virtue signaling": certain groups may have used them to show their alignment with the religious practices established under the Hasmonean kings, perhaps even more under the subsequent rule of the “half-Jewish” Herod the Great, his successors, and Rome. Ironically, Herod himself used them in his palaces, perhaps as a signal of his own piety and his (mostly ill-fated) family connections with the Hasmoneans. But such signals and distinctions could have been considered dangerous signs of disaffection, or at least failure to welcome the new regime of accomodation, after the First and Second Revolts. This may be why they fell out of use, whether suddenly or gradually, afterward. This does not mean that immersion for purity, for example, disappeared; it could have been enacted using natural bodies of water (as it likely had been before the Hasmonean period) or even, for lack of other options, civic bathing establishments. But the entire issue needs further documentation and research.

Questioning Qumran Qumran, a site northwest of the Dead Sea near caves in which many of the “Dead Sea Scrolls” were found (Figure 29.5), was identified as a settlement of scroll-producing Essenes by its first excavator, Father Roland de Vaux. That opinion has become standard, though the site was not fully published before de Vaux died, and many questions have been raised about his finds, standards of excavation, and interpretations. Recently Hirschfeld (2004), among others, claimed that Qumran was an agricultural estate center, or an industrial area, as argued by a team who recently excavated there (Magen and Peleg 2018).



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Figure 29.5  Plan of Qumran and environs, by John Wallrodt.

Most agree that the initial building was a towered fort, likely built by the Hasmoneans and improved by Herod, to monitor the area and hold the road from Hyrcania to the Dead Sea, and that Qumran was substantially destroyed in the First Revolt, ca. 68 ce or soon after. It is the interim phases that are still being argued over. There is little doubt that de Vaux’s hopeful identification went well beyond the archaeological evidence (e.g., the plastered mudbrick benches that he identified as writing tables in a “scriptorium” were too low to write on and too fragile to sit on), and that reconstructions of a large, almost monastic community living year-round at this arid, isolated site have always been problematic. A long wall connected the plateau with an agricultural estate at the oasis of ‘Ain Feshka on the Dead Sea coast, which explains the large amounts of date and date syrup remains found at Qumran. Whether the Dead Sea scrolls found in nearby caves were produced at Qumran is a question that may be answered by continuing scientific research (Rabin 2013); many date earlier than the construction of the site, and DNA analysis has found some scrolls to be of calfskin, unlikely to be produced in this desert region. There is also clear evidence for several kilns and pottery workshops within the complex, and refuse deposits contain misfired pottery; de Vaux’s pantry containing dinnerware for the community was identified by Magen as a storeroom for finished products of the pottery workshops. Debates continue over the many stepped pools found both within and outside the main building and its annex: were they for

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bodily purification, or to filter winter runoff for high-quality clay? If the inhabitants of the second phase were highly observant Jews, why were some pig bones found in recent excavations among the sheep and goat of their refuse deposits? Who were the people (male and female) buried in the pit graves of the cemetery on the east? Who lived in or around a structure whose walls seemed too poorly founded to hold a second story, had more pools than living rooms, and was doubtless smoky from kilns and ovens? If the kilns postdated the destruction of ca. 68, for whom were they making so much pottery? Though the publication of de Vaux’s photographs and field notes (Humbert and Chambon 2003; cf. Humbert, Chambon, and Młynarczyk 2016) may answer some of the questions about the original excavations, there probably will be no end to this interpretive tug of war any time soon.

Current Research Archaeological survey and excavation by both Israeli and foreign expeditions are constant across the State of Israel, with a wealth of new discoveries every year. Most sites are under the Israel Antiquities Authority (IAA), though the Palestinian Department of Antiquities and Cultural Heritage manages a few West Bank sites, and Israeli expeditions in the Occupied Territories, especially searches for scrolls and excavations at Herodion and around Hebron, have led to political and ethical conflicts and questions. The IAA publishes an invaluable website of data and bibliography from all known survey projects in Israel, Golan, and south to the Arava, on a searchable map; a recent search for all remains from Herodian to Roman/Byzantine times returned 4645 results (IAA 2020a). It also pursues its own excavation and research programs, publishing final reports in the series IAA Reports and both preliminary and short final reports on all excavations and surveys in Israel and the Occupied Territories in the bilingual online journal Hadashot Arkheologiyot/Excavations and Surveys in Israel (IAA 2020b). Tsafrir, Di Segni, and Green (1994) published a gazetteer of sites in the Roman province, with maps and chapters on roads and water systems; a yet more detailed compilation of ancient sources for known sites is currently appearing (Di Segni and Tsafrir 2015-). Stern (1993–2008) pubished detailed reports on individual sites, and a fifth volume updated them, while Magness 2012 is a useful textbook. Studies on specific architectural forms include: Segal 1997 for public spaces, gates, colonnaded streets, and fountains; Hoss 2005 for bath structures; Roll 2005 for roads; Netzer 2006 for palaces; Hachlili 2013 for synagogues; Segal 2013 for temples; Weiss 2014 for spectacle buildings; and Ohlig and Tsuk 2014 for aqueducts.

Acknowledgments Thanks go to all my Caesarea colleagues and volunteers, especially to Kathryn Gleason, Anna Iamim, Holt Parker, James Schryver, and John Wallrodt, for reading, improving, and illustrating this work; any errors are of course my own.

Biographical Note Barbara Burrell, a Roman archaeologist and numismatist, teaches Classics at the University of Cincinnati. She has co-directed (with Kathryn Gleason) excavations at the Promontory Palace, identified as the Palace of Herod the Great and subsequent Praetorium of the Roman



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Governors, at Caesarea Maritima. She has published extensively on finds there and from other eastern cities of the Roman Empire, with emphasis on their architecture, coinage, sculpture, and relations with/worship of the emperors.

Abbreviations CIIP =  Corpus inscriptionum Iudaeae/Palaestinae: A Multi-lingual Corpus of the Inscriptions from Alexander to Muhammad. Edited by Hannah M. Cotton et al. Berlin: De Gruyter.

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CHAPTER 30

Arabia Sarah Wenner

Introduction Arabia has long been considered on the fringe of the Roman world, and not just because it represented a large section of Rome’s eastern frontier. The province was of strategic importance because of the connection it provided between the Mediterranean Levant and the Red Sea region (Ball 2000, 32, 60). Despite this vital role, scholars mainly address Roman Arabia through the lens of the Roman Near East, imperial Grand Strategy (Luttwak 1976; Whittaker 1994), or lack thereof. Concepts like Romanization, so readily discussed as they apply to other Roman provinces, rarely make their way into literature on Arabia at all – and even less frequently does Arabia enter into larger empire-wide discussions. So what was Roman Arabia? Like so much else relating to the province, the boundaries are difficult to define. The majority of Arabia (Figure 30.1) was located within modern Jordan, but it extended north into southern Syria, just past Busrā (ancient Bostra), while the Jordan Valley determined its western limit, effectively bifurcating the Decapolis cities (see below; Freeman 2008, 416). The southern and eastern boundaries are more ambiguous, however, in part because the Romans themselves left them undefined. Typically, the Hejāz north of ancient Hegra (Mada’in Salih) and the Via nova Traiana, a Roman road that runs along a transitional zone, are given as the southern and eastern limits, but it remains unclear how far into the Hisma and Hejāz deserts Roman control reached. One reason for this lack of clarity is that the limits of the former Nabataean kingdom, from which the boundaries of Arabia were largely taken, remain unclear as well. The Nabataeans were originally a nomadic people who occupied territory in the southern Levant and northern Arabia as early as the fourth or third century bce. The earliest historical evidence of them dates from 312 bce, when Antigonus I launched an unlucky campaign against the Nabataeans, perhaps as a preliminary step to invading Egypt. Because there had been little, if any, Greek involvement in the area before Antigonus’ failed attempts, there is a dearth of information about the Nabataeans in this period; Diodorus Siculus (19.94–100.3) said that they were nomads, experts at water management, and made their wealth through the control of trade

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 2, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



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Figure 30.1  Map of the sites mentioned within the Roman province of Arabia, by John Wallrodt.

networks centered on a series of caravan stops. In the late second or early first century bce, the Nabataeans began to build permanent settlements and to mint coins (Schmid 2001, 408). Most scholars believe that they, like the Decapolis cities, became a client state of Rome during the first century bce, but some have begun to push back against this idea (Schmid 2009). Perhaps using their profit from the incense trade, over the course of the first century bce the Nabataeans gradually intensified their building program; a recent synthesis of the archaeological evidence from the last thirty years of that century postulates that this increased activity was the result of the Pax Romana (Gentry 2017).

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Trajan annexed the kingdom in 106 ce, and his possible motives are much debated. The new province split up the Decapolis, a loose confederation of ten to fifteen cities that had been under indirect Roman, Judaean, or Nabataean control during the first century bce and the first century ce (Isaac 1992, 353–354; Ball 2000, 60), making it harder for the formerly clustered cities to unite against the Romans. Its cities of Gerasa, Philadelphia (modern Amman), and Adraa were incorporated into Arabia, forcing the western limit of the new province into an unusual place along the Jordan Valley, but taking in the fertile region of Zoar, south of the Dead Sea (Bowersock 1998, 91–92). The extent of Roman Arabia was not the concern of early explorers. Instead, their focus was almost entirely on the “rediscovery” of lost, monumental cities, such as Petra. The Swiss geographer Johann Ludwig Burckhardt stumbled on the former Nabataean capital in 1812 while traveling under the auspices of London’s Royal Geographical Society. Only in 1897–1898 did two German researchers, Rudolf Brünnow and Alfred von Domaszewski, map and photograph large sections of the northern and central Jordan, and their three volumes have served as the foundation of most subsequent work on Roman Arabia. Soon after, Americans became interested in the region: like Brünnow and von Domaszewski, Howard Crosby Butler focused his attention on recording classical and Christian/Byzantine sites (Freeman 2008, 418). Though interest in Arabia declined while the Transjordan region was under British Mandate, from 1917 to 1950, some significant fieldwork did occur. George Horsfield worked in Gerasa and then Petra, where he cleared large portions of the site in the hopes of uncovering the major monuments. Less destructively, the Americans W. F. Albright and Nelson Glueck conducted substantial surveys and excavations in the Near East. Despite being a “biblical archaeologist” with interests mainly in the preclassical era, Glueck’s extensive surveys included systematic descriptions of nonmonumental sites, for which he provided a relative chronology based on surface pottery (Kennedy 2004, 406). Glueck also excavated two Roman period sites: Khirbet et-Tannur and Tell el-Kheleifeh. Glueck never sufficiently published the results of his excavations, but pieces of the temple from Tannur were shared between what became the Jordan Museum and the Cincinnati Art Museum in his hometown of Cincinnati, Ohio, while many finds went to the Harvard Museum of the Ancient Near East, allowing the recent publication of Khirbet et-Tannur by an international team (McKenzie 2013). After a significant lull in research, in 1971 Glen Bowersock called for renewed scholarly attention to Roman Transjordan, in part because Roman military sites were degrading as a result of population growth and economic development. As a result, a new generation of international archaeologists began concentrated excavation programs at urban centers like Gerasa, Petra, and Gadara (Freeman 2008, 419). Others began surveying and excavating military sites along the frontier, resulting in a wealth of research on the Limes Arabicus (Parker 1987). In the 1990s, the rising popularity of surveys led to increased interest in Nabataean, Roman, and early Byzantine settlement patterns. Archaeologists maintained excavations of civic, religious, and funerary monuments at the large urban sites, but also began to pay increasing attention to domestic sites and the economy.

Settlement Patterns Most large urban sites in Roman Arabia had also been important in the preceding Nabataean period, from the second century bce up to the Roman annexation in 106 ce. As mentioned, there was considerably increased sedentarization, economic development, and territorial expansion from the late first century bce to the first century ce, and a review of these developments merits its own synthesis. The standard chronological limits of the Roman Empire, ca. 44 bce to



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337 ce, incorporate the segment of the Nabataean period with the most concentrated building activity; Schmid (2008) offers a general history and archaeology of Nabataea from ca. 330 bce to 106 ce. This chapter, however, will concentrate on the changes Arabian cities underwent after the Roman annexation. Arabian cities were concentrated in specific regions as a result of several confluent factors. Early roads ran longitudinally along the Mediterranean coast or stretched from the Red Sea to the Euphrates (Kennedy 2004, 400). The areas with the highest annual rainfall and the ability to support dry farming were similarly located along a north–south corridor, but with the annual rainfall gradually decreasing southward (Figure 30.2; Kennedy 2004, figs. 3.2– 3.3, 2007, figs. 3.5a–b). Together, these conditions may explain the clustering of Roman Arabian cities and settlements along a single longitudinal axis, but most heavily in the north, where the Decapolis cities were located. Surface surveys in recent decades have suggested that the northern region’s natural resources promoted smaller settlements as well as urban sites. It is often difficult, however, to date survey sites in this area, or even to differentiate among Nabataean, Roman, and early

Figure 30.2  Topographic and rainfall map of the region, by John Wallrodt.

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Byzantine occupation, since the pottery tradition, the typical survey marker of chronology, did not change according to historical events; with little difference between the late Roman and early Byzantine traditions, many surveys combine the two periods, as “Roman-Byzantine.” A survey of the Wadi Ziqlab in the northern Jordan Valley shows that Roman-Byzantine settlement density was among the highest of all historical periods (Freeman 2008, 426). There was also a sizable Roman and early Byzantine population between the Yarmuk and alZarqa rivers (Graf 2001, 470). To the east near the Limes Arabicus, however, Roman and early Byzantine presence can only be attested on a fraction of sites that had Nabataean occupation (Parker 1987). Surveys showed that there was a similar decrease in Roman and Byzantine material further south in the Wadi al-Hasā, although there Nabataean remains were also rare (MacDonald 1988). In the northern Wadi Arabah, occupation was low in the Roman period but resurged during the Byzantine period (Macdonald 1992, 89–97), as it did in the Safi region, where a Byzantine penal colony and extensive cemetery were located. The exception to this trend seems to be in the hinterland of Gerasa, where Roman sites were generally found in locations without Nabataean period occupation (Kennedy 2004, 427). Although interest in Petra’s hinterland ceased for a number of years after Glueck’s explorations in the 1930s, surveys have become more frequent and intensive in recent years; Kennedy and Hahn (2017) list Petra regional surveys since the early twentieth century. Because of the sheer number of recent projects (twenty-four, as of 2017), the results are starting to be synthesized. Most sites identified in these surveys date to the Nabataean period (60%), with a significant drop in site numbers in the Roman period. In areas east of Petra, the Byzantine period is the second most frequent cultural phase, as many Nabataean sites with no evidence of Roman period occupation seem to have been reoccupied beginning around 300 ce. At this time, a legionary fortress was installed at Udhruh, which may have drawn settlers from the former Nabataean capital, now a more typical provincial city than a metropolis (Wenner 2018, 699). The western region around Petra, specially Beyda, does not see a similar population resurgence until the Islamic period, perhaps because soon after an earthquake destroyed Petra and much of the region in 363 ce, Petra itself had become more of a Christian pilgrimage site than a typical urban center (Ward 2016). Many of its buildings were left unrepaired, but a number of religious sites were either constructed or modified: between the late fourth and the first half of the fifth century, three churches were built on the North Ridge, the Nabataean Urn tomb was transformed into a church, and a monastery was constructed on top of a Nabataean high place (Bikai and Fiema 2001; Fiema et al. 2008–2013).

Urban Sites Not all Roman cities in Jordan have attracted the same level of archaeological interest. Work at Petra and Gerasa has boomed since the late 1970s because they are largely free of subsequent occupation (Lichtenberger and Raja 2017). Recent activity at Petra is almost too overwhelming to list, but includes the Great Temple (Joukowsky 2017), the Garden and Pool Complex (Bedal 2003), the Zantur mansions (Grawehr 2010), and the North Ridge (Bikai and Perry 2001; Parker and Perry 2017). Other cities in the province, however, are not as well understood. Extensive excavations occurred at Bostra in recent decades (Piraud-Fournet 2010), but could not continue after the Syrian war. The majority of Roman Gadara sits below a late Ottoman settlement (Weber 1990); Philadelphia is almost completely overlaid by the modern city of Amman; Abila and Pella have been covered by centuries of runoff. These hindrances do not mean that work has not occurred at these sites: Northedge (1992) has discussed the Roman and Islamic periods in Amman, and Kanellopoulos, Dailey, and Bikai (1994) studied the Great Temple there.



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While investigations of the pre-classical and classical periods have continued on Pella’s Tell Husn summit, the majority of recent work has focused on the site’s Bronze and Iron Age temples (Bourke 2015/2016). There have also been successes at lesser-known sites as work continues at various levels throughout the province: the second volume of the Roman Aqaba Project (following Parker and Smith 2014) is promised within the next few years; the Humayma team (Oleson 2010) is due to release their third volume soon; and Umm al-Jimal has issued a final publication, with a series of additional articles are due out within the next few years (Betlyon and De Vries 1998). There is little certainty about the origins of most of these cities, despite some intensive excavation. Generally, most sites have produced evidence of prehistoric occupation and were then re-founded sometime in the Hellenistic period, ca. third to first centuries bce (Freeman 2008, 422). Petra, as is often the case, seems to be the exception: little material dating earlier than the early first century bce has been found, with the exception of some third century bce material from excavations under the Colonnaded Street (Graf 2007, 339); most archaeologists believe that concentrated settlement did not start at Petra until the end of the second or start of the first century bce (Schmid 2008, 361). As with their origins, little is known about the shape of these early cities. Increasing archaeological evidence shows that many of the cities’ Graeco-Roman features, previously believed to have been installed under the Romans, were actually built sometime around the first centuries bce/ce, when the Nabataean kingdom and the Decapolis cities were flourishing. For example, Bostra’s street plan was certainly refined sometime in the second century ce, but it had Hellenistic predecessors that had been modified in the first century ce (Dentzer, Blanc, and Fournet 2002, 142–143); at Gerasa, the sanctuary of Artemis, constructed sometime in the first half of the second century ce, was possibly the expansion of a much older, local cult (Seigne 1992). Considering the sheer amount of growth the Decapolis and Nabataean cities underwent in the first centuries bce and ce, it is difficult to attribute their continued prosperity in the second and third centuries to Roman occupation of the region. In fact, it seems unlikely that the Romans made significant changes during the first few decades after the annexation. Arabian cities certainly changed throughout the Roman period, but these changes are generally attributed to single acts of patronage rather than some sort of imperial policy (Freeman 2008, 423). Perhaps the most obvious example is the Arch of Hadrian at Gerasa, built in honor of the emperor’s visit in 129–130 ce. In general, there was much less building during the third century ce, likely due to a combination of factors, including but not limited to the empire-wide political and economic crisis. Some building activity did extend into the third century but seems to have been left unfinished for unknown reasons. This may be indicative of wider economic, social, and political trends in the region during this period; but it should be noted that most cities of Roman Arabia already possessed the typical buildings of a Graeco-Roman city by that time. Theaters have been found at Abila, Philadelphia, Petra, Gerasa, Pella, Bostra, and Gadara. Many of these were carved into hillsides, giving them a greater chance at survival; the exception is the theater at Bostra, built up on vaults but later engulfed by an Islamic fortress, making it one of the best preserved in the Near East. Among other civic features, Abila, Gadara, Pella, Bostra, and Gerasa had monumental public baths; Pella, Philadelphia, Gadara, and Petra had monumental fountains or nymphaea; Gadara, Petra, and Gerasa had extramural gates and arches; Gerasa, Bostra, and Gadara had hippodromes. Even such large monuments can seem invisible in the archaeological record, however: Bostra’s hippodrome was only recently identified in the province’s lone amphitheater (Kennedy 2007, 30; see below). It is more difficult to quantify Roman Arabia’s public areas, more commonly understood as agorai/fora, macella, or oval plazas. Certainly, a number of Arabian cities, including

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Philadelphia, Gerasa, Pella, Petra, and Gadara, had multifunctional public areas, but the spaces in these cities were quite different from one another. Philadelphia is perhaps the only city in Arabia where something akin to a forum or agora has been located, as a Greek inscription in the square space in front of the theater and odeon recorded the foundation of a triple portico (tristoon) there (Zayadine 1969, 34; Segal 1997, 61). At Gerasa, the Roman period city clustered around the Oval Plaza, commonly but wrongly referred to as a forum, and another circular plaza marked the intersection of two colonnaded streets. Both were more directly associated with traffic management than socio-political activities (Ball 2000, 298). At Petra, the oval enclosure in front of the al-Deir monument was approached only by a sacred processional way and likely had religious connotations (McKenzie 1990, 151–161). Excavations of Petra’s so-called lower and middle markets, located south of the Colonnaded Street, uncovered a possible Nabataean temple or palace associated with a garden and pool complex, not a public market. In sum, Roman Arabia had a wide variety of public spaces, of which only one can safely be classified as an agora or forum. Three major cities are worthy of closer analysis: Petra in Nabataea/Jordan, Bostra in the Hauran/Syria, and Gerasa in the Decapolis.

Petra Petra, the former capital of the Nabataean kingdom, is best known and was first recognized for its 628 façade tombs carved into the sandstone; they made early explorers believe they had found a city of the dead. Because the majority of these tombs have been looted and reused since antiquity, they are difficult to date. Of the numerous chronologies proposed since Brünnow and von Domaszewski first came to the site, the majority date many if not most of the tombs to the Nabataean period (McKenzie 1990, 1–9; Wadeson 2013). For example, the Khazneh, a Graeco-Roman-inspired structure located at the point where the Siq opens into the city, had been dated anywhere from the late Hellenistic period to the second century ce (McKenzie 1990, tbl. 2; Khairy 2011, 173). Recent excavations of the area in front of it, and analysis of the scaffolding used to carve it, however, indicate that it was constructed at the turn of the millennia (Khairy 2011). Thus, like many of the other cities in the region, Petra experienced a building boom in the first centuries bce and ce. Most of the major monuments for which Petra is known seem to have been constructed during this time, including the Great Temple, Qasr e­ l-Bint, parts of the Colonnaded Street, and the Garden and Pool Complex (Figure 30.3). The exact dates of a handful of additional buildings remain ambiguous, however. For example, Philip Hammond, excavator of the main theater, dated it to 4 bce–27 ce based on his interpretation of Nabataean history and his belief that no theaters were constructed in the Near East after the reign of Augustus until ca. 150 ce (Hammond 1965, 55). More recent scholarship dates the theater to the first century ce (McKenzie 1990, 35). Hammond also excavated the Temple of the Winged Lions, which he dated to 26–27 ce using an inscription regarding a marble workshop that mentioned the thirty-seventh regnal year of Aretas IV; the inscription was not found in situ, however, so the date remains tenuous. A current project that is stabilizing and conserving the building may produce more evidence. Despite the fact that so many of the structures typical of Graeco-Roman cities had already been constructed when Rome annexed Nabataea, there was a fair amount of rebuilding activity during the first few decades of the second century, including parts of the Colonnaded Street, the interior of the Great Temple, and parts of the Temple of the Winged Lions (Fiema 2003, 48). These were not due to imperial intervention, however: there seems to have been a destructive event in the early second century ce. Although usually attributed to an

Figure 30.3  Site plan of Petra, by John Wallrodt.

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earthquake, other evidence suggests that Nabataean resistance to the annexation might have led to destruction horizons in south and central Arabia as well as in Petra (Parker 2009a). A recent excavation of the city wall area on Petra’s North Ridge (including Nabataean domestic complexes and tombs, a private Roman bathhouse, and Roman houses) found that the wall’s construction dates to the turn of the second century ce, and that it destroyed houses constructed in the first century ce. If the wall was built at such a cost by the Nabataeans, it might have been part of a last-ditch effort to defend the capital against the Roman annexation (Parker 2016, 594). After the construction, the tombs on the ridge went out of use and additional domestic complexes were built, which remained in use until an earthquake destroyed them and most of the city in 363 ce (Parker 2016, 590).

Bostra Like many important sites in the region, Bostra (modern Busrā) has a long history of settlement, dating back to the Bronze Age and continuing through the Hellenistic period, as evidenced by the city’s mention in the Book of Maccabees (I Maccabees 5.24). Its relationship with Nabataea, however, was more nebulous; the Nabataeans had likely taken control of the fertile southern Hauran during the reign of Aretas III (87–62 bce; Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 13.392), and given its location at the northernmost extreme of Nabataean territory, the city likely remained a frontier town throughout the Nabataean period. The site must have been inextricably bound up with the nearby Decapolis cities – which were nominally under Roman control – throughout the first centuries bce and ce, but the exact nature of this relationship remains ambiguous. Even the political events that led to Bostra’s increased importance at the end of the first century ce are unclear: there is some speculation that the last Nabataean king, Rabbel II, transferred the Nabataean capital from Petra to Bostra at the end of the first century, but whether this actually occurred is difficult to determine. In any case, Bostra was made the capital of the new province of Arabia at the start of the second century, immediately after the annexation. Petra was by no means in a period of decline at that point, but its incense trade might have been less lucrative than it had been in the past. The higher agricultural productivity of Bostra’s hinterland perhaps provided a sense of financial stability, in addition to its strategic location near the Decapolis cities. The early archaeological evidence of Bostra is scarce, and almost nothing is known about the Hellenistic city. Most of Bostra’s monuments were likely installed during the Nabataean period. At that point, the city was concentrated in the eastern section of what was to become the later Roman city, and featured a large temple precinct, entered through a monumental propylaeum called the Nabataean Gate because of its distinctive late first century Nabataean capitals. South of the precinct, the remains of a palace, possibly that of Rabbel II, and later used by the Roman governor, have been identified. The palace featured a two-story portico and surrounding courtyard, onto which a series of rooms opened, likely functioning as reception rooms. If the palace dates to the reign of Rabbel II (ca. 70–106), as suspected, the building was part of the city’s late Nabataean restructuring. Bostra was not arranged on a strict grid plan until the late first century, when development in the city center organized the streets orthogonally. The decumanus maximus formed a processional way to the Nabataean temple, culminating with a bent entrance perhaps meant to preserve an older route of cultic significance (Burns 2017, 256–257). The South Baths, located just off the decumanus, were oriented toward this new street (Dentzer-Feydy and Vallerin 2007, 220). Little else is known about this street building project, however, as it was discontinued soon after the annexation of Nabataea (Dentzer 2003, 110). When the Romans annexed Nabataea, they renamed its new capital Nova Traiana Bostra and transferred the Legio III Cyrenaica there as well. The Romans did not build a new city at



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Bostra, however, but overlaid typical Roman features onto the city they inherited. In other words, while there was no urban planning, the city’s evolution did have a sense of purpose. The presence of the legion led to the construction of a new street, stretching ca. 400 m north from the earlier decumanus maximus to the legionary camp. This street was colonnaded, with Ionic capitals, and lined with shops that also had roofing at least partially over the footpath (Dentzer-Feydy and Vallerin 2007, 240). A new western gate, the Bab al-Hawa, was added to the earlier Nabataean street sometime in the third century (Dentzer-Feydy and Vallerin 2007, 171–172). Other changes occurred during the course of the second century, making the city appear more “Roman.” The South Baths were refurbished and part of the forecourt on the northern side of the tepidarium walled off. The Central Baths were also installed in the center of the city, at the intersection of the east–west and north–south roads, along with a nymphaeum and a kalybe, an enclosure with columns meant for the display of statuary (Burns 2017, 258). To the south, the gate called Bab Qandil marked the start of “Theater Street,” added in the second century to lead to one of the largest and most intact theaters in the Roman world, at the street’s southern terminus. Some scholars have postulated that Bostra became decidedly less Nabataean after the Roman annexation. This is based largely on southern Syria’s lack of characteristic second century Nabataean pottery, which Petra continued to produce through the second and third centuries. Although the newly built Via nova Traiana that stretched from Aila/Aqaba to Bostra should have facilitated the continued movement of ceramics, it appears that Petra and Bostra were less connected under Roman administration (Dentzer 2003, 111; Alpass 2013, 196). The Nabataean connection did not disappear entirely, however, as the second century city extended east to include the Nabataean cult center and the distinctive Nabataean Gate. It remained a space for local cult perhaps until the Antonine period, when an inscription indicates that the cult to Dushara was replaced by the imperial cult (Burns 2017, 260). Bostra contains the only amphitheater yet discovered in Roman Arabia; only a handful exist in the Roman Near East (Ball 2000, 305). Almost all of these are small in size, many smaller than theaters. The strong connection between Latin-speaking communities and blood sports seems to have been less pervasive in the East. Although Arabia, and much of the Near East, had adopted many Roman traditions, there were also a large number of other cultural influences. Bostra perhaps acquired an amphitheater along with the other Roman architectural accoutrements because it became the capital of the new province.

Gerasa Gerasa was one of the most important cities of the Decapolis, as shown by the sheer number of public monuments, and it flourished into the mid-eighth century ce (Figure 30.4). It was located in a more well-watered highland environment than those of other Decapolis cities, which must have facilitated both urban development and growth of its hinterland (Kennedy 2007, 18). Gerasa and its neighbor Gadara have revealed almost every accoutrement a Roman provincial citizen might desire, perhaps more so than any other Roman Arabian city; it is possible that they engaged in competitive building practices. The city of Gerasa was built in the Hellenistic period atop an Iron Age predecessor. According to legend, either Alexander the Great or one of his generals was the founder, but new work shows that it is more likely that either Antiochus III or IV founded it as a free city in the Seleucid kingdom, and named it Antiochia on the Chrysorrhoas (Lichtenberger and Raja 2015, 484). As a medium-sized city of approximately 85 hectares, Gerasa was monumentalized in the first century, when large structures were built along the main north–south street through the heart of the city. At this time, the city was centered around the Oval Plaza, but a route to the cult center stretched 2.5 km north to the Birketein spring. The Temple of

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Figure 30.4  Site plan of Gerasa, by John Wallrodt.

Zeus was reoriented at this time as well, transformed from a Hellenistic altar into a massive Roman precinct complex (Burns 2017, 144). Gerasa’s next major building phase occurred in the early second century, during Hadrian’s reign. A new plan was supposed to extend the city beyond its South Gate, but this was abandoned shortly after Hadrian’s visit; a commemorative arch, approximately 300 m south of the South Gate, was the only part of that plan constructed. Instead, the city primarily expanded northward, west of the nearby Chrysorrhoas river, at this time. The streets were slowly repaired over subsequent decades, and the Temple of Artemis was constructed ca. 150 ce. The Artemision was an obvious source of civic pride and eventually



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grew into one of the largest sanctuaries in the Roman world. Around this time, a macellum, a tetrapylon, public baths, theaters, public markets, and a large basilica were added along the main north–south street, as was typical of cities of the Roman East (Lichtenberger and Raja 2015, 484). A nymphaeum with a large exedra flanked by two arches, of a type frequent in Roman Syria, was aligned with the colonnaded street’s sidewalk, and dates to the end of the second century (Ball 2000, 426). Eventually the city encompassed both sides of the Chrysorrhoas, which likely fed the baths and the nymphaeum. At a date that remains uncertain, the city was enclosed within 4.2 km of walls, which were rebuilt at different times, as evidenced by the spolia within them (Lichtenberger and Raja 2015, 484–485). The Northwest Quarter, located at the highest point within the walls of Gerasa, was densely populated in the Roman and Byzantine periods. Burials have only been found outside of the city wall and not within the Northwest Quarter, suggesting that this area was considered part of the city, but despite its density, the Northwest Quarter remained somewhat separated from the rest of the Roman city: the North Decumanus led to the North Theater, public square, and basilica, but its western section did not link the Northwest Quarter to the civic center. Without that connection, the Roman period expansion must have terminated at the North Theater, with the area beyond used for public projects, like communal water, agriculture, or stone quarrying for building activity elsewhere. Excavation of the so-called Synagogue Church showed that the Northwest Quarter supplied much of the city’s water: one large cistern served as the substructure of a larger building, though both were destroyed in the third century; another cistern, 40 × 18 m and rock cut, dated early in the second century. There was a gap in construction in the third century, after which older structures began to be extensively reused and rebuilt, making it difficult to determine the full extent of Roman period activities in the Northwest Quarter (Lichtenberger and Raja 2017, 16).

Villages In Palestine and southern Syria, it was common that networks of villages of varying sizes surrounded a smaller number of urban centers, but this trend is less apparent in Arabia. Especially in the central portion of the province, inhabitants favored small hamlets, caravanserais, and isolated farmsteads over even the smallest of villages, with sanctuaries located along the main caravan roads as local or regional centers. This trend remained unnoticed, however, until surveys became more common (e.g., in the Dharih region in McDonald 1988). Even then, the nature of Nabataean and Roman villages in Roman Arabia remained obscure, as excavation primarily focused on cities, as in other Roman provinces. This trend has begun to shift over the past two to three decades, along with the pattern of archaeological exploration. Khirbet edh-Dharih is one of the most intensively excavated villages, with continued occupation into the Roman period. A caravan stop between Petra and Aila/Aqaba to the south and Bostra and Damascus in the north, the village had a perennial water supply provided by three springs, including ‘Ain La’abān, a spring with religious importance in the Roman period (see below, at Khirbet et-Tannur). Although the site produced material from the Early Bronze Age and the Edomite period, there was no evidence of occupation from the end of the Iron Age until the first century ce. At that time, Khirbet edh-Dharih housed a village approximately 500  ×  200 meters in size, comprising approximately 20 houses, olive oil presses, a necropolis, pilgrimage facilities, baths, a temple, and a caravanserai. Given the size of the houses and most of the burials, the majority of Khirbet edh-Dharih’s residents belonged to the middling class, with the possible exception of a single family with connections to the sanctuary, throughout the site’s existence, from the first century ce until its destruction by the 363 earthquake (Durand, Piraud-Fournet, and Tholbecq 2018).

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Like Khirbet edh-Dharih, the small village at Rujm Taba (1.17 ha) had over twenty architectural features, including a caravanserai and a necropolis. Although mostly ignored until the 1990s, it was surveyed in a rescue project in 2001 (Dolinka 2006). Analysis of the visible structures and the artifacts collected suggested that the site had originally been founded sometime in the mid-first century bce, when there was a wave of settlement across the Negev and the Wadi Arabah. While difficult to determine the length of occupation based on surface collection, it is probable that the village was continuously and extensively occupied until the late second century ce, followed by squatter occupation for the rest of the Roman period.

Industries and Trade in the Negev and Southern Jordan Not unlike the Wadi Arabah valley where Rujm Taba was located, the Negev was an arid to hyper-arid region that lacked many of the features required to sustain permanent settlement, such as rainfall over 100  mm annually, arable soil for farming, and natural water sources (Erickson-Gini 2010, 5). Nevertheless, the Nabataeans installed many roads, wayside stops, and even cities there to serve the caravan trade, coinciding with, and perhaps occasioning, the overwhelming wave of Nabataean culture across the region in the first centuries bce and ce (Erickson-Gini 2007, 1). The Nabataeans had been known for their role as middlemen in the aromatics trade, transporting frankincense and myrrh from Yemen up the Arabian Peninsula to the Mediterranean, either shipping via the Red Sea through Egypt’s territory or continuing in camel caravans through the Nabataean-controlled Negev. In the mid- to late first century bce, the Nabataeans began producing perfume with some of the frankincense they transported. The unguents were bottled in Petra and shipped westward in caravans across the Negev to Gaza and the west. This new industry continued to ship perfumes across the Negev for at least a century after the Roman annexation, but Petra’s production of unguentaria ceased in the mid-third century, when the trade routes transporting frankincense shifted southward and avoided Petra. Before the collapse of the perfume industry, Roman period settlements were remarkably stable through the second century ce, perhaps because of the continued use of the PetraGaza “Incense Road.” A handful of Roman forts were also constructed to guard the road, possibly during the Severan dynasty, at Nahal Neqarot, Mahmal, Mezad Qasra, and Mezad Grafon. An oil press with industrial features found at a fort at Moyat ‘Awad suggests that not just soldiers were stationed there, but also civilians involved in the lucrative perfume industry (Erickson-Gini and Israel 2013, 28, 42, 50–51). While much remains unknown about cultivation in the region, it is possible that the olives processed at Moyat ‘Awad came from Umm Rattam, about 25  km southeast in the Wadi Arabah, where second century ce aqueducts show Roman period investment in agriculture (Lindner, Hübner, and Hübl 2000). Trade along the Incense Road declined and eventually ceased during the third century ce, perhaps supplanted by routes to Egyptian ports such as Berenike and Myos Hormos, and/or Aila (below). It remains unclear who inherited the perfume industry, but with no product to transport from Petra to the Mediterranean, it is not surprising that many Negev sites were abandoned (Erickson-Gini and Israel 2013, 28). The Roman military may have abandoned a trade station at Mada’in Salih (Hegra) in the northern Hejāz sometime in the early third century, but this is based on the fact that graffiti referring to the military found there are not dated later than the early third century, which is not definitive proof; the site itself was not abandoned, and the trade post was likely left in the control of the local Arab population (Young 2001, 73–74, 114). Nonetheless, the site is not included in the late fourth century Notitia Dignatatum (List of Offices), a listing of Roman administrative posts. The Roman military was present at Aila in the fourth century, however: the Tenth Legion Fretensis was moved from Jerusalem to Aila by Diocletian, and the city was duly listed in the



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Notitia. This port on the Red Sea may have been founded by the Nabataeans in the late first century bce, during the reign of Obodas II (ca. 30–39 bce) or Aretas IV (ca. 9 bce–40 ce), for economic reasons: it likely minimized some of the negative effects the Roman annexation of Egypt had on the Nabataean economy, primarily as it related to the export of frankincense from Yemen (see above). Aila allowed the Nabataeans to move the frankincense north by water, instead of overland via camel caravan (Parker 2009b, 80), where it could continue on to Petra to become perfume or to the Mediterranean as a raw product. Little of Aila was archaeologically explored before excavation began in the northwest edge of the ancient city in 1994. Though unable to locate a harbor or fort due to the expanding modern city of Aqaba, the team excavated mudbrick houses, a Roman-Byzantine cemetery, and a possible church. When Petra’s perfume industry declined, as evidenced by the dearth of Petra-made unguentaria at Aila beginning in the mid-third century ce, the residents developed several other products. Ceramics was certainly the most extensive industry at Aila, and continued to expand over the subsequent decades, as suggested by Aila-ware sherds found throughout southern Jordan and the Negev. Excavations also produced evidence of bone, ivory, and metal working. The fragments of copper and copper alloys from the latter might have been imported via the hyper-arid Wadi Arabah (Parker 2009b, 740). In southern Jordan, where Wadi Arabah meets the Mountains of Edom, Wadi Faynan was one of the rare sources of copper in the southern Levant, exploited since the seventh millennium bce. In the 1990s, a survey of Wadi Faynan indicated that imperial Rome mined the area directly, not unlike the granite and porphyry quarries in Egypt’s Eastern Desert (Barker, Gilbertson, and Mattingly 2007, 306). Though no ostraca or papyri were found, the Wadi Faynan team estimated that Roman production was possibly in excess of 40,000–70,000 tons of slag and 2,500–7,000 tons of copper (Hauptmann 2000, 97). The mines themselves had horizontal or sloping adits and galleries, connected by vertical shafts with natural rock arches, distinguishing them from adits of the Bronze and Iron Ages. The restricted entry areas created a space in which supervisors could easily control the workforce, thought to be convicts; the harshness of the region, particularly in the summer, made it difficult to enter or leave the valley undetected or unaided (Barker, Gilbertson, and Mattingly 2007, 312). Judging from the area’s coin finds, the mines’ administration became more dependent on cash transactions in the fourth century, when a military garrison was installed. Given that an imperial estate managed the land, and only ca. 100–300 people could be supported with runoff agriculture (Barker, Gilbertson, and Mattingly 2007, 333, 344), it is possible that residents were either given or could barter for crops.

Roads and Military Sites Roman roads were an instrument of military control, and work on them began soon after the Roman annexation of Arabia. The Via nova Traiana traversed the whole province from Bostra in the north to Aila in the south, bypassing Umm al-Jimal but running through Philadelphia. Though its full extent remains obscure due to land development and erosion, it ran over 400 km, and around 240 milestones have been found (Abudanah et al. 2016, 391). Scholars are still unsure whether it ran through Petra or bypassed the city in favor of Udruh to its east. On the one hand, the legionary fortress at Udruh only dates to the fourth century, and it seems unlikely that the second century road would pass by the former Nabataean capital in favor of what was then a small suburb; milestones as far north as Bostra record their distances from Petra (Graf 1995). On the other hand, a recent survey of the region suggests that the eastern route is still a viable option, based on the discovery of a new milestone and a reevaluation of the route’s defensive nature; also, the Via nova Traiana partially utilized an older road, likely to avoid the major engineering task of constructing a completely new one

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(Abudanah et al. 2016, 407–410). For example, the northern section between Philadelphia and Bostra followed the Wadi Zarqa (Kennedy 2007, 76), again to simplify the engineering process. If the Via nova Traiana followed a preexisting path, it may have bypassed Petra despite its economic significance. The Via nova Traiana has long been considered the eastern boundary of Roman Arabia, so this region has received much attention from scholars of the Roman Empire’s limes system. Debate has raged as to whether the Roman army was there for internal security or to defend the empire from external threats by nomadic Arabs or Saracens. Many new excavations of both military and civilian sites along the Arabian frontier, as well as in the Negev and southern Syria, have complicated the picture. In the second century, the Third Legion Cyrenaica was stationed in Bostra, where its camp has been located (see above; Lenoir 2002). Detachments of this legion were likely posted in other locations in the Sinai, the Negev, and southern Jordan (Kennedy 2004, 47–48). The location of auxiliary troop encampment is less certain, but inscriptions point to Humayma, a Roman fort between Petra and Aila, as well as the Asraq oasis. No military quarters have been discovered in the Decapolis cities (Parker 2017, 141), suggesting that the Roman administration did not perceive any threat there, or at least in the Hellenized northwest. The Roman army’s interest and investment in the desert frontiers, and noticeably not in the agricultural heartland or the major urban centers where the majority of the population resided, burgeoned at the end of the third century. A Tetrarchic building inscription confirms that the Udruh fortress dates to this period (Kennedy and Falahat 2008). The Roman castellum at Gharandal in the Wadi Arabah has also been dated to the Tetrarchic period by an inscription (Darby and Darby 2015), and this prompted the redating of the near-identical Yotvata fort (Davies and Magness 2015a, 2015b). The Roman army constructed several military installations in the Negev at the end of the third century as well, mainly along key roads and in the Wadi Arabah (Erickson-Gini 2007, 7). Other archaeologically attested military installations dating to this period include the legionary camp at Lejjun, the nearby forts of Khirbet el-Fityan and Rujm Beni Yasser, and the camp at Da’ajaniya south of the Wadi al-Hasā (Parker 1987).

Water and Agriculture Nabataean hydraulic technology is notable for its sophistication and adeptness in meeting the needs of water-poor regions. This system of water management is perhaps most clearly observed in the landscape surrounding Udruh, a region that received ca. 50–150 mm of rainfall annually. A survey of agricultural fields there shows that the Nabataeans had constructed an agro-hydraulic system that used a nearby perennial spring and also harvested and stored water during the dry season. It included a subterranean series of vertical qanats (underground channels) and horizontal conduits, surface level water movement and storage facilities (including outlets, channels, and reservoirs), and field systems with irrigation channels (Driessen and Abudanah 2018, 141). Built in the first century ce, the qanat system only needed renovation and adjustment in the Byzantine period, when the fortress was constructed (Driessen and Abudanah 2018, 151). This lack of need for major changes to Nabataean water systems, even during the Roman period, is also seen at other sites in southern Jordan and the Negev. At Humayma, the Romans partially adjusted the flow of a Nabataean aqueduct to create a new reservoir within the fort. They also added terracotta pipes and a stopcock with a lead pipeline as a water system within the fort itself, but otherwise maintained the Nabataean system. There are also no cisterns below Byzantine churches at the site, suggesting that the Nabataean system continued to



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supply sufficient water several centuries later. This was not the case in the northern section of Arabia, where the Romans introduced the typical imperial suite of hydraulic features, including aqueducts and drains, as can be seen at Philadelphia, Gerasa, Gadara, Abila, and Bostra (Oleson 2010, 490). It is much more difficult to determine if the agriculture supported by Nabataean hydraulic systems changed under the Romans. Whereas other provinces show a shift from multiple to single cash crops (as shown in North Africa, for instance, by serialized olive presses; Hitchner 2002, 76), the data were simply not available for many sites in Arabia. This is beginning to change, however, through analysis of botanical evidence. At Aila, the archaeobotanical material suggests that the city, which was previously believed to be almost entirely dependent on imported foodstuffs due to its hyper-arid climate, began growing cotton in the Roman period. This water-hungry crop continued to be grown well into the Byzantine period, through the use of the “oasis agriculture” model, dependent on date palms whose groves then support other crops (Ramsay and Parker 2016, 115–117). The oasis model was not used in the Negev, which lacked the shallow water table that allowed Aila to grow date palms. Despite this, the Negev experienced a massive population boom between the fourth and seventh centuries, in part facilitated by the field systems utilized at this time. Some systems employed the land between wadis, blocked to flood the intervening area. Occasionally, larger wadis were dammed to force water into a water conduit system, not unlike Udruh’s qanat system, which then carried it to the field system (Rosen 2007, 161, 200–203).

Shrines and Religion As with most provinces, Rome interfered very minimally in Nabataean and Arabian religion. This is perhaps most obvious at Khirbet et-Tannur, a temple site about 7 km north of the contemporary village of Khirbet edh-Dharih (see above), excavated in 1937 by Nelson Glueck with the Department of Antiquities of Transjordan and the American Schools of Oriental Research in Jerusalem; Judith McKenzie and a team of specialists published the results of these excavations in 2013. These indicate that Khirbet et-Tannur was a sacred site as far back as the second century bce, but a monumental precinct and temple was only constructed in the first half of the second century ce (Figure 30.5; McKenzie 2013, 47, 61). The famous zodiac, with half the symbols running clockwise and the other half counter-clockwise around a bust of Tyche, was sculpted in this period, along with the cult statues (McKenzie 2013, 74–75). The Nabataeans typically worshiped their gods as aniconic stones, or baetyls, a custom that continued to some degree through the Roman period until the advent of Islam (Avni 2007, 130). When Nabataean deities were represented anthropomorphically, the sculptures tended to borrow iconographical elements from neighboring cultures. The main male deity displayed at Khirbet et-Tannur shared attributes with the Egyptian god Serapis, the Syrian god Hadad, the Greek god Zeus, and the Edomite god Qōs. Qōs was the only god named at the site, on a stele reading “which Qōsmalik made for Qōs, the god of Horawa [Hawarawa]” (McKenzie 2013, 51). Despite the mention of Horawa, which many associate with the Nabataean and Roman town of Humayma, the stele’s physical appearance most closely parallels a stele found near the temple to Lat [Allāt] at Wadi Ramm and featuring the inscription “Allāt of Bosra [Bostra].” A basalt sculpture of an eagle with a bilingual Greek-Nabataean text dedicated to Qōs was also recovered from Bostra, possibly dating as late as the second or third century ce (McKenzie 2013, 191–193). There are few other references to Qōs from Arabia in either the Nabataean or Roman periods, and considering this dearth and Khirbet

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Figure 30.5  Reconstruction of the altar at Khirbet et-Tannur, by Judith McKenzie, courtesy of the McKenzie estate.

et-Tannur’s connection to the nearby spring La’abān, it seems likely that Qōs might have been a local deity, one of those to whom the early second century temple was dedicated. Other sites also offer evidence of the continued practice of Nabataean cult after the Roman annexation, including the construction of the temple at Khirbet edh-Dharih and the Small Temple at Petra, the expansion of the Temple to Lat [Allāt] in Wadi Ramm, and the continued



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use of a Nabataean shrine, possibly through the mid third century, in the Roman garrison town of Humayma (Villeneuve and al-Muheisen 2003; Reid 2005, 123–126; Tholbecq 1998, 246; Reeves 2016, 170). The temple at Khirbet edh-Dharih is larger than that at Tannur, less than 10 km away, but was remarkably similar in arrangement, with a colonnaded court and triclinium, and was likely constructed by the same builders and sculptors. Around 200, three additional triclinia and zodiac busts were added, suggesting that the temple continued to serve local or even regional worship through the start of the third century. The additions were not long-lived, however, as this new area was used for pottery production and iron smelting later in that same century. While some Nabataean deities continued to be worshiped locally at least through the second and possibly into the fourth and fifth centuries (Avni 2007, 135), evidence of the imperial cult in Arabia is much more tenuous, and mostly comes from Petra. Qasr el-Bint, the largest and most prominently placed of the city’s temples, was originally constructed sometime in the first century bce (Larché and Zayadine 2003, 201), and features a range of objects that are suggestive of imperial cult, but not necessarily conclusive; among the sculpture associated with the temple was a sandstone baetyl, a metope from a Doric frieze (ca. first century bce to first century ce), a small cupid, heads of Marcus Aurelius and Aelius Caesar (father of emperor Lucius Verus), and an unidentified marble bust. The main object of worship was the Nabataean baetyl, however, indicating that the temple centered on local cult (Friedland 2007, 345). The three Roman figures recovered from the building’s exedra seem to have been part of a display honoring Marcus Aurelius, as the statues’ findspot was near an inscription honoring both Aurelius and Lucius Verus (Zayadine 2002, 209–210). There was no conclusive evidence that the Roman emperor was worshiped as a deity. Other evidence attests to imperial honors without proving actual cult. Excavation at Petra’s Small Temple, a building near Qasr al-Bint and the Great Temple, uncovered several marble fragments inscribed with imperial titulatures from the second and third centuries, but most were being reused as wall revetment and floor paving. Though the excavator believed this was sufficient to suggest that the building was a provincial temple to the emperor, it is unclear why the provincials would choose to build a temple for the imperial cult so far from the capital at Bostra (Schmid 2008). At Bostra, coins indicate that the city introduced festival competitions in the mid-third century that honored both Dushara and Augustus’ victory at Actium, and an inscription found near a building usually identified as a Temple of Dushara reads “Rome and Augustus” (IGLS XIII 9143; Alpass 2013, 187): but even if the city had a sanctuary to Rome and Augustus, the nature of worship in this yet undiscovered sanctuary remains unclear, as does any relationship between Dushara and imperial cult.

Romanization or Hellenization? As already mentioned, Roman Arabia is rarely considered in discussions of Romanization, and not without reason. Certainly there were elements that gave the Decapolis federation a Graeco-Roman aesthetic, thus allowing some scholars to refer it as an “island of Hellenism” (Graf 1986) or “unambiguously Greek” in “public character” (Millar 1993, 412–413), but these classifications are oversimplified. The Decapolis was created after Pompey’s annexation of Syria in 63 bce, meaning it is not Hellenistic or Seleucid in origin. Control of individual cities shifted between the Nabataeans and the neighboring Judaeans, and the populations were certainly a mix of Nabataean, Graeco-Macedonian, and Jewish. Tracing the classical elements in southern Jordan is even more complicated. At Petra, even the architecture that appears Graeco-Roman at first glance has significant local influences. For example, Petra’s Colonnaded Street appears to be not unlike other colonnaded streets, which

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were generally thought to have originated out of the stoas of Greece and Asia Minor (WardPerkins 1981, 256). This does not seem to be the case at Petra, however, where the city was largely planned according to the natural topography; its entry ravine (Siq) opens to a valley floor where the center of the city would come to be constructed. Over the centuries of use, this narrow east–west axis came to be used as a sacred way, necessitated by the major religious sites located along it. While shops were certainly incorporated into this space, the sequencing remains uncertain, and it seems likely that the street was not colonnaded until after the Roman annexation (Burns 2017, 106–113), when a destructive event might have necessitated a number of rebuilding activities (Parker 2009a). The Nabataean cities of southern Jordan also reflect a number of cultural influences. The effect of Dynastic Egyptian traditions on Nabataean and Roman Arabian visual culture is becoming increasingly clear, especially as it relates to temples (McKenzie 1990; Tholbecq 1998). The Achaemenid elements included on the façade tombs in Petra and Hegra/Mada’in Salih have been much discussed (Anderson 2002), as well as the south Arabian features on “stylized anthropomorphic” stelae (Zayadine 1991, 55–56). Although both seem more typical of the Nabataean rather than the Roman period, many such stelae continued to be displayed in Petra’s Qasr el-Bint and the Temple of the Winged Lions, and the façade tombs must have continued to make a large visual impact on their cities throughout the Roman period. The fact that the Urn Tomb was later converted into a Christian church by Bishop Jason in 446 is perhaps proof enough that the local Christian population had concerns about the tombs. Few, if any, of the traditional trappings of a Graeco-Roman city have been identified at Aila. Although much of the city remains buried under Islamic Ayla and the modern city of Aqaba, it remains possible that the Nabataean city was never reshaped to look more Roman after the annexation. Certainly, the distinctive nature of formerly Nabataean cities cannot be fit easily into the traditional concept of Romanization.

Conclusion The character of Roman Arabia was largely determined by that of the Nabataean kingdom, at least for the first few decades after the Roman annexation. By the start of the second century, most of the Arabian cities had many Roman features, like bathhouses, theaters, and colonnaded streets. Some elements of Nabataean religion continued to be practiced, as shown by the temples constructed after the Roman annexation. The transportation of incense and the production of perfume continued until the third century, and there is little evidence of a shift from multiple to single cash crops, while Nabataean water management systems largely remained in place with some slight modifications. Only settlement outside the major urban centers seems to have been most affected in the second and third centuries, as the number of hinterland sites became restricted before reexpanding in the early Byzantine period. The reasons for these changes are complicated, however, and were likely influenced by climate changes, shifting trade patterns, and eventually the presence of the Roman military. Surveys, archaeobotanical analysis, and paleoenvironmental studies (such as Knodell et al. 2017, Ramsay and Parker 2016, and Barker, Gilbertson, and Mattingly 2007) have begun to elucidate what stimulated these changes. A new area of exploration will likely trace external influences: with the Saudi Arabian government’s hope to open to mainstream tourism, a handful of significant surveys have been launched to identify and conserve cultural heritage there. With the help of the archaeologists of Roman Jordan, the results of such work will further clarify the extent of the Roman (and Nabataean) presence in the Hisma and Hejāz deserts.



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Biographical Note Sarah Wenner holds her PhD from the University of Cincinnati; her dissertation examined the role of discarded materials in shaping urban spaces throughout the Roman Empire. She has worked on many Roman sites and projects in Jordan, including Petra, Udruh, Wadi Ramm, and Aqaba. She is assistant director of the Petra Garden and Pool Complex excavation, ceramicist for the Khirbet al-Khalde project, and co-editor of the Petra North Ridge Project’s final report.

Abbreviations IGLS = Inscriptions grecques et latines de la Syrie. 1870–. Edited by William Henry Waddington et al. Paris and Beyrouth: F. Didot and Institut français du Proche-Orient et al.

REFERENCES Abudanah, Fawzi, Mohammad B. Tarawneh, Saad Twaissi, Sarah Wenner, and Adeeb Al‐Salameen. 2016. “The Via Nova Traiana between Petra and Ayn Al-Qana in Arabia Petraea.” Oxford Journal of Archaeology, 35: 389–412. Alpass, Peter. 2013. The Religious Life of Nabataea. Boston: Brill. Anderson, Björn. 2002. “Imperial Legacies, Local Identities: References to Achaemenid Persian Iconography on Crenelated Nabataean tombs.” Ars Orientalis, 32: 163–207. Avni, Gideon. 2007. “From Standing Stones to Open Mosques in the Negev Desert: The Archaeology of Religious Transformation on the Fringes.” Near Eastern Archaeology, 70: 124–138. Ball, Warwick. 2000. Rome in the East: The Transformation of an Empire, 2nd ed. New York: Routledge. Barker, Graeme, David Gilbertson, and D. J. Mattingly, eds. 2007. Archaeology and Desertification: The Wadi Faynan Landscape Survey, Southern Jordan. Oxford: Council for British Research in the Levant. Bedal, Leigh-Ann. 2003. The Petra Pool-Complex: A Hellenistic Paradeisos in the Nabataean Capital. Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias. Betlyon, John Wilson, and Bert De Vries, eds. 1998. Umm El-Jimal: A Frontier Town and Its Landscape in Northern Jordan. Portsmouth, R.I: Journal of Roman Archaeology. Bikai, Patricia M., and Zbigniew T. Fiema, eds. 2001. The Petra Church. Amman: American Center of Oriental Research. Bikai, Patricia M., and Megan A. Perry. 2001. “Petra North Ridge Tombs 1 and 2: Preliminary Report.” Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research, 324: 59–78. Bourke, Stephen. 2015/2016. “Pella in Jordan 2007–2009: Prehistoric, Bronze, and Iron Age Investigations on Khirbet Fahl, and Renewed Work Across the Tell Husn Summit.” Mediterranean Archaeology, 28/29: 125–140. Bowersock, Glen Warren. 1998. Roman Arabia. Reprint ed. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Burns, Ross. 2017. Origins of the Colonnaded Streets in the Cities of the Roman East. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Darby, Robert, and Erin Darby. 2015. “The Late Roman Fort at ‘Ayn Gharandal, Jordan: Interim Report on the 2009–2014 Field Seasons.” Journal of Roman Archaeology, 28: 461–470. Davies, Gwyn, and Jodi Magness. 2015a. “Addendum to ‘The Roman Fort at Yotvata: A Valentinianic Foundation?’” Journal of Roman Archaeology, 27: 356. Davies, Gwyn, and Jodi Magness. 2015b. The 2003–2007 Excavations in the Late Roman Fort at Yotvata. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns.

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Dentzer, Jean-Marie. 2003. “The Nabataeans at Bosra and in Southern Syria.” In Petra Rediscovered: Lost City of the Nabataeans, edited by Glenn Markoe, 109–111. New York: Harry N. Abrams, Cincinnati Art Museum, and American Museum of Natural History. Dentzer, Jean-Marie, Pierre-Marie Blanc, and Thibaud Fournet. 2002. “Le développement urbain de Bosra de l’époque nabatéenne à l’époque byzantine: bilan des recherches françaises 1981–2002.” Syria, 79: 75–154. Dentzer-Feydy, Jacqueline, and Michele Vallerin. 2007. Bosra aux portes de l’Arabie. Beyrouth: Institut français du Proche-Orient. Dolinka, Benjamin. 2006. “The Rujm Taba Archaeological Project (RTAP): Results of the 2001 Survey and Reconnaissance.” In Crossing the Rift: Resources, Settlement Patterns and Interactions in the Wadi Arabah, edited by Piotr Bienkowski and Katharina Galor, 196–214. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Driessen, Mark, and Fawzi Abudanah. 2018. “The Udhruh Region: A Green Desert in the Hinterland of Ancient Petra.” In Water Societies and Technologies from the Past and Present, edited by Yijie Zhuang and Mark Altaweel, 127–156. London: UCL Press. Durand, Zeidoun al-Muheisen, Pauline Piraud-Fournet, and Laurent Tholbecq. 2018. “A Public Bathhouse, a Caravanserai and a Luxurious Villa in Khirbat Adh-Dharīḥ (Ṭafīlah, Jordan): Report on the 2013 Excavation Season.” Annual of the Department of Antiquities of Jordan, 59: 607–622. Erickson-Gini, Tali. 2007. “The Nabataean–Roman Negev in the Third Century ce.” In The Late Roman Army in the Near East from Diocletian to the Arab Conquest, edited by Ariel S. Lewin and Pietrina Pellegrini, 1–9. Oxford: Archaeopress. Erickson-Gini, Tali. 2010. Nabataean Settlement and Self-Organized Economy in the Central Negev: Crisis and Renewal. Oxford: Archaeopress. Erickson-Gini, Tali, and Yigal Israel. 2013. “Excavating the Nabataean Incense Road.” Journal of Eastern Mediterranean Archaeology and Heritage Studies, 1: 24–53. Fiema, Zbigniew. 2003. “Roman Petra (A.D. 106–363): A Neglected Subject.” Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins, 119: 38–58. Fiema, Zbigniew T., Jaakko Frösén, Paula Kouki, and Mika Lavento, eds. 2008–2013. Petra, the Mountain of Aaron: The Finnish Archaeological Project in Jordan, 1-3 vols. Helsinki: Societas Scientiarum Fennica. Freeman, Philip. 2008. “The Roman Period.” In Jordan: An Archaeological Reader, edited by Russell Adams, 413–441. Oakville, CT: Equinox Publishing. Friedland, Elise A. 2007. “Shifting Places, Changing Faces.” In Crossing Jordan: North American Contributions to the Archaeology of Jordan, edited by Thomas Evan Levy, P. M. Michèle Daviau, Randall W. Younker, and May Shaer, 341–347. Sheffield: Equinox Publishing. Gentry, Russell. 2017. “The Transformation of Nabataea: Economic Transformation in the Late First Century BC and First Century AD.” MA thesis, North Carolina State University. Graf, David. 1986. “The Nabataeans and the Decapolis.” In The Defense of the Roman and Byzantine East: Proceedings of a Colloquium Held at the University of Sheffield in April 1986, edited by Philip Freeman and David Leslie Kennedy, 785–796. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Graf, David. 1995. “The Via Nova Traiana in Arabia Petraea.” In The Roman and Byzantine Near East: Some Recent Archaeological Research, edited by John H. Humphrey, 241–269. Ann Arbor: Journal of Roman Archaeology. Graf, David. 2001. “First Millennium AD: Roman and Byzantine Periods Landscape Archaeology and Settlement Patterns.” Studies in the History and Archaeology of Jordan, 7: 469–480. Graf, David. 2007. “In Search of Hellenistic Petra.” In Crossing Jordan: North American Contributions to the Archaeology of Jordan, edited by Thomas Evan Levy, P. M. Michèle Daviau, Randall W. Younker, and May Shaer, 333–339. Sheffield: Equinox Publishing. Grawehr, Mattias. 2010. Petra, ez Zantur IV. Ergebnisse der Schweizerisch-Liechtensteinischen Ausgrabungen. Eine Bronzewerkstatt des 1. Jhs. n. Chr. von ez Zantur in Petra. Mainz: P. von Zabern. Hammond, Philip. 1965. The Excavations of the Main Theatre at Petra, 1961–1962. London: Bernard Quaritch. Hauptmann, A. 2000. Zur frühen Metallurgie des Kupfers in Fenan/Jordanien. Bochum: Deutsches Bergbau-Museum.



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Hitchner, Robert. 2002. “Olive Production and the Roman Economy.” In The Ancient Economy, edited by Walter Scheidel and Sitta Von Reden, 71–83. New York: Routledge. Isaac, Benjamin H. 1992. The Limits of Empire: The Roman Army in the East. New York: Clarendon Press. Joukowsky, Martha Sharp, ed. 2017. The Great Temple. Brown University Excavations 1993–2008: Architecture and Material Culture. Philadelphia: Oxbow Books. Kanellopoulos, Chrysanthos, Thomas A. Dailey, and Patricia Maynor Bikai. 1994. The Great Temple of Amman: The Architecture. Amman, Jordan: American Center of Oriental Research. Kennedy, David L. 2004. The Roman Army in Jordan, 2nd ed. London: Council for British Research in the Levant. Kennedy, David L. 2007. Gerasa and the Decapolis: A “Virtual Island” in Northwest Jordan. London: Duckworth. Kennedy, David L., and Hani Falahat. 2008. “Castra Legionis VI Ferratae: A Building Inscription for the Legionary Fortress at Udhruh Near Petra.” Journal of Roman Archaeology, 21: 150–169. Kennedy, Will, and Felix Hahn. 2017. “Quantifying Chronological Inconsistencies of Archaeological Sites in the Petra Area.” eTopoi, 6: 64–106. Khairy, Nabil I. 2011. “The Mada’in Saleh Monuments and the Function and Date of the Khazneh in Petra.” Palestine Exploration Quarterly, 143, no. 3: 167–175. Knodell, Alex R., Susan E. Alcock, Christopher A. Tuttle, Christian F. Cloke, Tali Erickson-Gini, Cecelia Feldman, Gary O. Rollefson, Micaela Sinibaldi, Thomas M. Urban, and Clive Vella. 2017. “The Brown University Petra Archaeological Project: Landscape Archaeology in the Northern Hinterland of Petra, Jordan.” American Journal of Archaeology, 121, no. 4: 621–683. Larché, François, and Fawzi Zayadine. 2003. “The Qasr al-Bint of Petra.” In Petra Rediscovered: Lost City of the Nabataeans, edited by Glenn Markoe, 199–213. New York: Harry N. Abrams, Cincinnati Art Museum, and American Museum of Natural History. Lenoir, Maurice. 2002. “La camp de la legion IIIa Cyrenaica à Bostra. Récherches récente.” In Limes XVIII. Proceedings of the XVIIIth International Congress of International Roman Frontiers Studies Held in Amman, Jordan (September 2000), edited by Philip Freeman, Julian Bennett, Zbigniew T. Fiema, and Birgitta Hoffmann, 175–184. Oxford: Archaeopress. Lichtenberger, Achim, and Rubina Raja. 2015. “New Archaeological Research in the Northwest Quarter of Jerash and its Implications for the Urban Development of Roman Gerasa.” American Journal of Archaeology, 119, no. 4: 483–500. Lichtenberger, Achim, and Rubina Raja, eds. 2017. Gerasa/Jerash: From the Urban Periphery. Højbjerg: Centre for Urban Network Evolutions. Lindner, Manfred, Ulrich Hübner, and Johannes Hübl. 2000. “Nabataean and Roman Presence between Petra and Wadi Arabah Survey Expedition 1997/98: Umm Rattam.” Annual of the Department of Antiquities of Jordan, 44: 535–567. Luttwak, Edward. 1976. The Grand Strategy of the Roman Empire: From the First Century ce to the Third. Revised ed. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. MacDonald, Burton. 1988. The Wadi El Ḥasā Archaeological Survey, 1979–1983, West-Central Jordan. Waterloo, Ont., Canada: W. Laurier University Press. MacDonald, Burton. 1992. The Southern Ghors and Northeast’Arabah Archaeological Survey 1985–1986, Southern Jordan. Sheffield: J.R. Collis Publications. McKenzie, Judith S. 1990. The Architecture of Petra. New York: Oxford University Press. McKenzie, Judith S., ed. 2013. The Nabataean Temple at Khirbet et-Tannur, Jordan. 2 vols. Boston: American Schools of Oriental Research. Millar, Fergus. 1993. The Roman Near East, 31 B.C.–A.D. 337. Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press. Northedge, Alastair. 1992. Studies on Roman and Islamic ʻAmmān: The Excavations of Mrs. C-M Bennett and Other Investigations. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Oleson, John Peter. 2010. Humayma Excavation Project. Boston: American Schools of Oriental Research. Parker, S. Thomas, ed. 1987. The Roman Frontier in Central Jordan: Interim Report on the Limes Arabicus Project, 1980–1985. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports.

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Parker, S. Thomas. 2009a. “Arabia Adquisita: The Roman Annexation of Arabia Reconsidered.” In Limes XX: Roman Frontier Studies. XX Congreso Internacional de Estudios sobre la Frontera Romana, edited by Ángel Morillo, Norbert Hanel, and Esperanza Martín, 1585–1592. Madrid: Instituto Historico Hoffmeyer. Parker, S. Thomas. 2009b. “The Foundation of Ayla: A Nabataean Port on the Red Sea.” Studies in the History and Archaeology of Jordan, 10: 685–690. Parker, S. Thomas. 2016. “The Petra North Ridge Project: Domestic Structures and the City Wall.” Studies in the History and Archaeology of Jordan, 12: 587–596. Parker, S. Thomas. 2017. “New Research on the Roman Frontier in Arabia.” In Roman Frontier Studies 2009: Proceedings of the 21st International Congress of Roman Frontier Studies (Limes Congress) Held at Newcastle-upon-Tyne in August 2009, edited by Nick Hodgson, Paul T. Bidwell, and Judith Schachtmann, 139–144. Oxford: Archaeopress. Parker, S. Thomas, and Megan A. Perry. 2017. “Petra North Ridge Project: The 2014 Season.” Annual of the Department of Antiquities of Jordan, 58: 287–301. Parker, S. Thomas, and Andrew M. Smith, eds. 2014. The Roman Aqaba Project: Final Report. Boston: American Schools of Oriental Research. Piraud-Fournet, Pauline. 2010. “Les fouilles du «Palais de Trajan» à Bosra (2007–2009) – Rapport préliminaire et perspectives de recherche.” Syria, 87: 281–300. Ramsay, Jennifer, and S. Thomas Parker. 2016. “A Diachronic Look at the Agricultural Economy at the Red Sea Port of Aila: An Archaeobotanical Case for Hinterland Production in Arid Environments.” Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research, 376: 101–120. Reeves, M. Barbara. 2016. “Humayma’s Notched Peak: A Focus of Nabataean and Roman Veneration and Civic Identity.” Arabian Archaeology and Epigraphy, 27: 166–175. Reid, Sara Karz. 2005. The Small Temple: A Roman Imperial Cult Building in Petra, Jordan. Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press. Rosen, Arlene Miller. 2007. Civilizing Climate: Social Responses to Climate Change in the Ancient Near East. Lanham: Altamira Press. Schmid, Stephan G. 2001. “The Hellenisation of the Nabataeans: A New Approach.” Studies in the History and Archaeology of Jordan, 7: 407–419. Schmid, Stephan G. 2008. “The Hellenistic Period and the Nabataeans.” In Jordan. An Archaeological Reader, edited by Russell Adams, 353–411. Oakville, CT: Equinox Publishing. Schmid, Stephan G. 2009. “Nabataean royal propaganda: A response to Herod and Augustus?” In IJS Studies in Judaica: Conference Proceedings of the Institute of Jewish Studies, University College London, edited by Markham Geller, Ada Rapoport-Albert, and John Klier, 325–359. Leiden: Brill. Segal, Arthur. 1997. From Function to Monument. An Architectural History of the Cities of Roman Palestine, Syria and Arabia. Oxford: Oxbow. Seigne, Jacques. 1992. “A l’ombre de Zeus et d’Artémis. Gérasa de La Décapole.” ARAM, 4: 185–195. Tholbecq, Laurent. 1998. “The Nabataeo-Roman Site of Wadi Ramm (Iram): A New Appraisal.” Annual of the Department of Antiquities of Jordan, 42: 241–254. Villeneuve, François, and Zeidoun al-Muheisen. 2003. “Dharih and Tannur, Sanctuaries of Central Nabataea.” In Petra Rediscovered, edited by Glenn Markoe, 83–100. New York: Harry N. Abrams, Cincinnati Art Museum, and American Museum of Natural History. Wadeson, Lucy. 2013. “Nabataean Façade Tombs: A New Chronology.” Studies in the History and Archaeology of Jordan, 11: 507–528. Ward, Walter D. 2016. “The 363 Earthquake and the End of Public Paganism in the Southern Transjordan.” Journal of Late Antiquity, 9, no. 1: 132–170. Ward-Perkins, John Bryan. 1981. Roman Imperial Architecture. New York: Penguin Books. Weber, Thomas. 1990. “One Hundred Years of Jordanian-German Fieldwork at Umm Qais (1890– 1990).” In The Near East in Antiquity: German Contributions to the Archaeology of Jordan, Palestine, Syria, Lebanon and Egypt, edited by Susanne Kerner, 15–28. Amman: German Protestant Institute for Archaeology of the Holy Land/Al Kutba.



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Wenner, Sarah E. 2018. “Petra’s Relationship with its Hinterland from the Nabataean to the Early Byzantine Period.” In Limes XXIII. Proceedings of the 23rd International Congress of Roman Frontier Studies Ingolstadt 2015, edited by C. Sebastian Sommer and Suzana Matešic, Vol. 2, 696–701. Mainz: Nünnerich-Asmus Verlag. Whittaker, C. R. 1994. Frontiers of the Roman Empire: A Social and Economic Study. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. Young, Gary K. 2001. Rome’s Eastern Trade: International Commerce and Imperial Policy, 31 BC–AD 305. New York: Routledge. Zayadine, Fawzi. 1969. “A Greek Inscription from the Forum of Amman – Philadelphia A.D. 189.” Annual of the Department of Antiquities of Jordan, 14: 34–35. Zayadine, Fawzi. 1991. “Sculpture in Ancient Jordan.” In The Art of Jordan: Treasures from an Ancient Land, edited by Piotr Bienkowski, 31–61. Liverpool: Alan Sutton. Zayadine, Fawzi. 2002. “L’exèdre du téménos du Qasr al-Bint à Pétra: (À propos de la découverte d’un buste en marbre).” Syria, 79: 207–215.

CHAPTER 31

Egypt Willeke Wendrich

Introduction When Hecataeus and Herodotus called Egypt’s Delta a “gift of the Nile,” they meant not the availability of water, but the accumulation of silt (Griffiths 1966). From an archaeological standpoint, however, Egypt should perhaps be considered a gift of the desert. In a country whose aridity preserves organic materials extraordinarily well, a wealth of information unknown to other regions of the Roman Empire is available. Archives and letters on papyrus, the clothing that people wore, their house structures, room inventories, trash dumps, industrial implements, agricultural yield and traces of religious rituals have all been recovered. Especially the papyrological evidence has provided insight into organizational structures as well as economic, political, and daily life. This evidence has often been extrapolated into the broader context of the Roman world. Therefore, one must ask how representative the situation in Egypt was for the entire Roman sphere of influence. Answers have been closely linked to the researchers, their disciplinary background and interests, but also to the political and social environments they operated in. How Roman was a country that was multi-lingual, with Greek and Demotic used side by side, and where Latin played a marginal role, mostly reserved for official inscriptions? A different Roman Egypt emerges depending on whether the focus is on the Greek papyri, the Demotic ostraca, or the archaeology of daily life. Researchers with classical training may define an urban layout in terms of orthogonal organization, naming a decumanus maximus and cardo maximus even if the grid’s orientation is off and not really regular or straight. A Rome-centered approach makes written accounts of the literate classes overshadow the material traces of the majority of the population (Bietak 1979; Van de Velde 1992; Lightfoot 1995; Vermeule 1996; Rosen 2006). Furthermore, we live with an inheritance of wonder at, perhaps even distaste for, what is considered “foreign,” non-Roman and non-Western, from medieval depictions of mythical creatures based on Roman descriptions of the inhabitants of the Egyptian deserts (Barnard 2005) to the influence of nineteenth century colonial considerations of Egypt as a country in decline after the Roman period (Haug 2012).

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 2, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



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From an archaeological viewpoint, it is clear that there were considerable differences within Egypt, regionally, socially, and temporally. We cannot understand the archaeology of Roman Egypt without taking into consideration Pharaonic and Ptolemaic Egypt. The Greco-Roman period (third century bce to third century ce) saw enormous changes on many levels, but they were developments firmly rooted in a long history of Egyptian civilization. Change has always been part of Egyptian society, but was mostly presented and perceived as continuation, or the return to an imagined past (Wendrich 2010). In the Greco-Roman period, the integration of Greek culture and Roman values provided new bases for the definition and understanding of what it meant to be Egyptian. Apart from contrasting the Greco-Roman period with the preceding Pharaonic, Third Intermediate and Late periods, it is also important to “unpack the term Greco-Roman” (Capponi 2005). We should make distinctions among the Ptolemaic period (332-30 bce), the increasing influence of Rome in the second and first centuries bce, and Roman rule, which started in 30 bce with the death of Cleopatra VII. Ptolemaic Egypt focused on the countries in the Eastern Mediterranean ruled by the successors of Alexander the Great, many of whom were related, or linked through marriage. The increasing influence of Rome is evident from such episodes as the Roman intervention halting the attack of Antioch VI Epiphanes against Alexandria in 168 bce. Ptolemy XII Auletes (80-58 and 55-51 bce) was officially amicus et socius populi romani, but this “friend and partner of Rome” was described by many as a feeble ruler who de facto had given up his realm to Rome; other scholars, however, interpreted his approach as a clever political balancing act among relationships with Rome, the Egyptian priesthood, and the many Ptolemaic factions, while avoiding giving Rome an excuse to seize Egypt (Herklotz 2012). In 30 bce, ten months after the Battle of Actium where Mark Antony’s fleet and political ambitions were both destroyed, Octavian entered Egypt. His elevation as princeps was reflected in the names and titles given to him there. Although he was probably not crowned in Egypt, his name was written in a cartouche, a protective oval that traditionally surrounded the names of pharaohs. From this time, Egypt had a special status because of its economic and political importance. Senators had to gain permission to visit Egypt, not because it was “private property” of the emperor, but because it was under his direct supervision, through rule by a prefect from the equestrian, rather than a governor from the senatorial, class (Jördens 2009, 54). Egypt’s administration thus changed drastically, even if much of the Greek terminology for administrative ranks was maintained. Under Augustus the rights of elite native Egyptians were curtailed. Subsequent emperors had different approaches and levels of appreciation for Egypt and its inhabitants, with Hadrian and Septimius Severus showing appreciation for the country beyond its value as provider of grain. Hadrian probably visited Egypt in 117, traveled throughout the country in 129–130, and subsequently founded Antinoopolis in Egypt, as well as decorated his villa in Tibur with Egyptian motifs, in memory of his favorite, Antinous, who had died on the tour of Egypt. Septimius Severus sojourned in Alexandria in 200–202, along with his elder son Caracalla (co-emperor from 198 on). This chapter focuses on archaeologically traceable Roman Egypt and the tension between the power and interests of the rulers and the everyday lives of urban and rural Egyptian communities from the end of the Ptolemaic period into late antiquity; the latter denotes the period from the reign of Diocletian (284–305) to the advent of Islam in 641 (Ruffini 2018), but an alternative (and still arbitrary) end point of Roman Egypt could be the start of late Roman or Byzantine Egypt, referring to either the legalization of Christianity by the Edict of Milan of 313, or Constantine’s establishment of his capital at Constantinople. Archaeologists have characterized Greco-Roman Egypt as a hybrid Hellenistic-Egyptian culture that followed a period of decline in Egypt’s Late Period; its changes have been presented either as improvements or as regression and the demise of “true” Pharaonic Egyptian culture. The first viewpoint considered Egypt under Roman rule as partaking in the Pax Romana, with Rome as a

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positive influence, and was rooted in nineteenth century idealizations of Roman cultural superiority and military prowess, intermingled with a colonial attitude towards contemporary Egypt (Reid 1996). The second generally saw the decay of Egypt starting earlier, in the Third Intermediate Period (21st Dynasty, ca. 1075 bce). Histories of Egypt tend to end at that time, or refer to it as “twilight” or “anarchy” (Myśliwiec 2000; Ritner 2009). The most common terms to describe the intercultural contact that occurred in GrecoRoman Egypt are colonization, hybridization, and cultural middle ground (Stockhammer 2013). These well-theorized terms have moved beyond an understanding of ancient colonialism based on colonial relationships as experienced in the nineteenth and early twentieth century, presupposing concentrated “foreign” settlements among local populations, often marred by violence, economic exploitation, and political domination. For ancient societies, however, this definition is problematic (Dommelen 2002), even if colonialism often has elements of power inequality (Lyons and Papadopoulos 2002). The Greek term used for a settlement outside the heartland, apoikía, simply means “away from home,” comparable to the modern “expat,” though the Latin colonia implies a farming settlement elsewhere. If colonialism is to be understood as incomers from other regions living in settlements distinct from those of a local population, there were very few examples in Egypt. There was interaction and cultural change, but simplistic terms like “Hellenization” or “Romanization” have been replaced by an understanding that interaction of cultures is not unidirectional adaptation or acculturation. Although also problematic, the term “hybridization” involves negotiation and agency, is context-dependent, and can cover ambiguous relationships (Silliman 2015). It is not possible to describe the interaction of Greek, Roman, and Egyptian culture as if these were three fixed identities with material markers that interact and influence each other. Any emphasis on cultural identity when discussing Greco-Roman Egypt is at least partly reflective of present day concerns, where guest workers, immigration, and an influx of refugees cause tension, and indigenous populations feel threatened by what is perceived as irrevocable, fundamental, and, above all, unwanted changes to the fabric and core of national identity. For instance, Shaw’s (1992) interpretation of ancient inhabitants of Greek descent as being openly racist towards native Egyptians seems to reflect modern discourses. Any discussion of hybridization or cultural middle ground should take into account that there were considerable differences within Roman Egypt, both regionally and over time. It is, therefore, important to be cognizant of the scale and context of the information we use to understand this vibrant period in Egyptian history. Furthermore, the very nature of archaeological information allows us to pronounce upon either very small or very large developments: we can tell that somebody emptied a bucket, we can understand changes made over generations to a house, we can see long term developments in a region. What is archaeologically invisible, however, are the types of events that make up big history. I will, therefore, consider the archaeology of Roman Egypt at different scales, including the archaeological research methods most suitable to address these. From landscapes to regions, settlements, persons, and particles (the molecular level), I will outline where the archaeological information is found for language, religion, food, housing, state, and trade, focusing on how the evidence enables us to understand the complex society that was Roman Egypt.

Landscapes: Topography, Climate, and Geography Survey is the archaeological technique that is best suited to answer large questions on landscape, the natural environment, and activities that took place in between settlements, as well as beyond the Nile Valley, in Egypt (Figure 31.1). It allows us to understand the exploration and exploitation of the deserts that have been part of military and economic activities throughout the history of Egypt. Though it has long been maintained that the ancient Egyptians feared, vilified, and avoided



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Figure 31.1  Map of Egypt with place names mentioned in the text, by John Wallrodt after map by Hans Bernard.

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the desert (e.g., Friedman 1998, 23), recent surveys have shown early and substantial activity related to Red Sea shipping, quarrying, and mining in both the Eastern and Western Deserts of Egypt (Harrell 2013a; P. Tallet and Marouard 2012; Hendrickx, Förster, and Eyckerman 2013). In the Roman period these activities were intensified to an unprecedented scale. Deep in the desert, scatters of Roman ceramics without much context can be found, with no indication of why someone would venture out to that particular region (Sidebotham, Gates-Foster, and Rivard 2018). Often these are found near Paleolithic remains, a time when the climate attracted and sustained human activity in what today is a hyper-arid landscape. Opinions on whether the Roman period was a climatic optimum that enabled such forays deep into the deserts range widely. Based on the plant remains excavated in the quarrying settlements of Mons Claudianus, van der Veen (1996) concluded that the average annual precipitation in the Eastern Desert remained stable around 5 mm. Research on climate change has been inconclusive, but a multi-disciplinary approach that combines historical sources and climate proxies such as tree rings, lake cores, and ice cores to look at changes at both a world-wide and local scale seems promising. This requires comparing data on different geographical and temporal scales, from general climatic trends to the experiences of weather by farming communities in Egypt. Such multiscalar, multidisciplinary research has shown that the climate in the period from 100 bce to 800 ce was relatively stable compared to most of the late Holocene, though there were certainly fluctuations (McCormick et al. 2012). The latter are represented by descriptions of drought or particular levels of the Nile inundation as expressed by the annual tax accounts. In Egypt the most important influence on subsistence and economy is the level of Nile floods, rather than temperature shifts or increased rainfall in the deserts. The tax system of Egypt was directly related to the Nile inundation, whether too low, too high, or in a bracket in which farmers could be expected to reap a successful harvest, support themselves, and pay the required taxes; a good Nile flood amounts to 16 cubits (see below). Tax and other administrative records show that during the Roman period the annual inundation levels of the Nile varied greatly (Bonneau 1971, 1993). Generalizing the trends elucidates, however, that there was a climatic optimum with stable weather from around 100 bce to 200 ce (McCormick et al. 2012), while within the low range of climatic variability that lasted until the eighth century ce, there were periods of rapid fluctuation that influenced farming and carrying capacity of the Nile Valley and the Eastern and Western Deserts. In addition to warmer climate during the Roman optimum, the records show optimal Nile floods, originating from stable rainfall in the Ethiopian headlands of the river from approximately 30 bce to 150 ce. Another determining factor was low volcanic activity during that period; the eruption of Vesuvius in 79 ce does not seem to have affected Egypt. The levels quoted in Table 31.1 are the estimated difference between early summer low and late summer high Nile measured near Fayum, probably at el-Lahun. The inundation Table 31.1  Nile inundation readings comparing two subsequent years in the second century ce, after Pearl 1956. The size of a cubit is taken as 0.526 m after Borchardt 1906. This year Days Rise/Fall Level cubits. Previous year Julian PHAOPHI digits Level cubits. digits Calendar 10-17

0

16. 22

15. 24

7-14 Oct

This year Level metric

Previous year Level metric

8.83 m

8.34 m

18-20

-3

16. 19

14. 11

15-17 Oct

8.77 m

7.57 m

21-22

-5

16. 14

13. 22

18-22 Oct

8.68 m

7.25 m

23-30

-10

16. 04

13. 05

23-27 Oct

8.49 m

6.93 m

-5

15. 27

12. 08

28 Oct-1 Nov

8.40 m

6.65 m

HATHYR 1-5



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levels varied from 23 in Aswan to 6 in the Delta. Pliny the Elder (Natural History 18.47) reported that an inundation of 12 cubits resulted in famine, while 16 cubits was considered optimum, as is also expressed in the statue of Nilus surrounded by 16 children (Natural History 36.11; a version of this statue is in the Vatican Museum). The relatively low level of Nile inundations before 30 bce and optimal temperatures and inundation levels from 30 bce to 200 ce were followed by a period of increased instability with cooler and drier weather from 200-400 ce. The third century was also a period with multiple volcanic eruptions that may have influenced the climate. McCormick et al. (2012) show that the military, political, and monetary crisis of the third century and the economic prosperity of the fifth century coincided with diminished and increased occurrence of favorable floods, respectively. Great care should be given, however, to avoid climatic determinism. Attributing important historical events, such as the collapse of the Roman Empire and the transition of Egypt to Christianity, solely or predominantly to changes in climatic conditions is too simplistic (Butzer 2012).

Red Sea Ports and Trade Routes The archaeological evidence for Roman activities in the deserts of Egypt is mostly related to well organized and logistically advanced endeavors such as gold mining, stone quarrying, and seafaring. In the first and second centuries ce long-distance trade was expanded, using harbors on the Red Sea coast for trade with Africa, South Arabia, and India. Several of these harbors had been founded in the early Ptolemaic period, notably under Ptolemy II Philadelphus, and were expanded in the Roman period. One example was Myos Hormos (“mussel harbor”), modern Quseir el-Qadim (Peacock and Blue 2006; Tomber 2012). Berenike, founded in the third century bce for transport of African savanna war elephants, was located at the most southern point from which the Egyptian Nile Valley could be reached. Hunted in eastern Sudan and Eritrea, these elephants were shipped on specially built vessels, elephantegoi. The animals were off-loaded at Berenike and walked through the Eastern Desert (with water and rest-stations approximately a day’s march apart) to a training station at Apollonopolis Magna (Edfu) in the Nile Valley. The scant but significant evidence for elephants in Berenike includes a series of deep V-shaped ditches and a fragment of elephant tooth, rather than tusk (Sidebotham and Wendrich 2007). This infrastructure, also used for long-distance trade, was taken over and renewed in the Roman period. The main destination of the desert routes from Berenike and Myos Hormos was Koptos (modern Quft). The Ptolemaic way stations were overhauled or abandoned for newly established fortified posts, built according to Roman templates. Vetus Hydreuma in Wadi Abu Greiya, for instance, was one of five fortifications in the same area, three on low terrain, while two overlooked and guarded the route towards Berenike. The water stations were built in the valleys of the mountainous Eastern Desert to protect the water sources, many of which were wells, contained within the walls and flanked by cisterns. The trade routes were protected by the Roman military, part of an extensive network of Roman praesidia established under Vespasian (69-79): the way stations were usually manned by cavalry (3-5 men) and infantry (8-10 men) monitoring the traffic on the up to 20-meterwide roadway, which was unpaved but cleared of stones. Dated Latin inscriptions were positioned over the main gates of these desert fortifications, such as one found at Siket (Sidebotham and Wendrich 2007), and a wealth of ostraca was unearthed there, as in the Western Desert (Cuvigny and Wagner 1986; Bingen, Covigny, and Bülow-Jacobsen 1992; Cuvigny, Hussein, and Wagner 1993; Cuvigny 2003, 2005). Short notes from the fort at Krokodilo, mostly dated from 102 to 118 ce by regnal year, provide insight into military organization, sociocultural relationships, and daily affairs. While the infantry members had Latin names, likely indicating that they were of Greco-Egyptian origin, the cavalrymen of the Ala Vocontiorum, stationed in Koptos, had (and probably retained) non-Roman, Dacian names (Cuvigny 2003).

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The praesidia communicated through a series of signal towers along the route, as well as couriers on horseback. Inscriptions found in Berenike show that sometime after 180 ce the Ala Heracliana was responsible for protection of the desert routes (Sidebotham and Wendrich 1999, 208–209). Though Myos Hormos and Berenike feature in many descriptions of Roman long-distance trade as a Roman or Hellenistic initiative (Casson 1980), excavations at Berenike have provided evidence that Mediterranean ships joined in the Indian Ocean trade relatively late, and that at least part of the shipping expeditions to Egypt were Indian initiatives. Many Indian trade goods were materials that only survive in a desert environment: eight pounds of black pepper were found in a storage vessel in the compound of Berenike’s Great Isis Temple, and charred peppercorns were a regular find in house and garbage contexts, showing that this “luxury” was readily available to Berenike’s inhabitants (Wendrich et al. 2006). Resist-dye cottons and Indian finewares could also have been imported, and there are even indications of the presence of Indian sailors and perhaps merchants, such as Indian cooking ware and a Tamil-Brahmi inscription on an Egyptian vessel found in Berenike (Mahadevan 1996). Teakwood planks with dowel holes, likely from Indian ships, were reused in many of the walls in Berenike, and cotton sailcloth attached to bone brailing rings also indicate Indian-based shipping; though cotton was known in southern Egypt, and grown in Nubia as early as the first century ce (Gervers 2008), Nubian cotton was prepared differently than Indian cotton, and can be readily distinguished (Wild 2005). Several goat-hair camel girths were produced from materials available in Berenike, but in a technique of ply-split braiding which has not been found in ancient Egypt, but at present among specialist camel girth makers in West India and Pakistan (Quick and Stein 1982; Collingwood 1998). Though little evidence for Indian archaeological textile crafts is preserved in their homeland, a fragment of cotton piled carpet and twill-plaited reed matting (also uncommon in classical Egypt) from the same deposits as the Indian cooking pots and cotton sailcloth provide a convincing alignment of evidence. Recent publications refer to the Indian Ocean trade as Indo-Roman (Tomber 2008), which although a better term, still leaves out traders hailing from the Arabian peninsula and Africa; the Meroitic kingdom also had considerable interests in Rome’s southernmost harbor (Sidebotham et al. 2021). A major source for understanding the mechanisms and strategies of the long distance trade from a Roman perspective is the Periplus of the Red Sea (Periplus Maris Erythraei), describing the navigation and trade of the Red Sea. This merchant’s handbook, dated to the first century ce, details the sea routes, landings, and commodities that can be bought, sold, or traded in the various harbors (Casson 2012). A comparison of the materials found in the excavations at Berenike in first century ce layers with those goods that could perhaps be expected to be found based on the Periplus shows a large number of discrepancies (Wendrich et al. 2006). Especially when comparing semi-precious stones, spices, and cargo shipped in amphorae, the commodities that were actually present in Berenike also give information on the shipping route. Where long pepper (Piper longum), prevalent in the Northern Indian harbors, such as Barygaza, was mentioned in the Periplus, it was not archaeologically attested. As mentioned above, black pepper (Piper nigrum), shipped out of south India, was found in great abundance. The southern Indian harbors (Muziris and Nelkynda) were located straight across the Indian Ocean from the Ethiopian harbors and could be reached by making use of the monsoon winds.

Desert Mines and Quarries Egypt’s desert landscape was exploited throughout its history for metals, as well as utilitarian, building, and ornamental stones (Harrell 2012a, 2012b, 2012c, 2013b). Roman mines and quarries are usually in the same place as those used during Pharaonic times; the exception seems to be Mons Claudianus, whose tonalite gneiss, a hard black/white spotted igneous



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rock used for, e.g., the columns of the Pantheon, was specifically favored under Rome (Peacock and Maxfield 2007). Similarly, the Roman quarries and mines for copper, lead, and gold are also favored by present day mining, which threatens to destroy the evidence of the ancient workings, including mining and quarrying techniques, organization, and living circumstances in the desert. The large columns quarried at Mons Claudianus and the roughed out columns, fountain basins, and statues of Mons Porphyrites were hauled through the Eastern Desert to the Nile Valley. Such an operation would have used sledges in the Pharaonic period, as shown in the decoration of the tomb of Djehutihotep at Deir el-Bersheh (Vinson 2013). In the Roman period, however, there is evidence for the use of wheeled vehicles (Harrell and Storemyr 2009). After reaching the Nile Valley, the columns, many around 12 meters in height, were transported by boat down to Alexandria, transferred to seagoing vessels and shipped across the Mediterranean to Ostia and then overland to Rome (Grasshoff and Berndt 2014).

The Army and Imperial Bureaucracy Activities at the coastal harbors, in the Eastern Desert, the Oases of the Western Desert, the Nile Valley, and the Delta were controlled and organized through the Roman army. Protecting the interests of Rome in Egypt, in particular the power of the emperor, was the task of the bureaucracy, backed by the army. The organization of the army in Egypt was similar to that elsewhere in the Roman Empire. After Augustus’ reforms the army consisted of professional soldiers, with at least two legions of infantry stationed in Egypt: III Cyrenaica and XXII Deiotariana, each consisting of approximately 5000 men. These were Roman citizens under command of senior officers from the two highest census classes, senatorial and equestrian. They were complemented with auxiliary troops and cavalry (on horseback or camel), comprised of men from the provinces. Soldiers in these auxiliary units signed up for twenty years, plus five years as reservists, after which they became Roman citizens. These units were moved around the empire to where they were most needed, but Egypt usually had around seven to ten auxiliary cohorts of approximately 500 men each and three to four alae of cavalry of approximately the same number (Haensch 2012). The complete strength and locations of all army units in Egypt is not precisely known, but the establishment and location of Roman camps at different periods and regions can be estimated through excavations and texts. The camp at Nikopolis, also known as Iouliopolis, near ancient Alexandria and now lost under urban development, was the base for two legions, from which men were sent wherever they were needed anywhere in Egypt. NikopolisIouliopolis was probably also the customs port for goods coming from the countryside into Alexandria (Cottier 2010). Recent work at the fortress of Babylon, in the southern part of present day Cairo, showed that building activity dates back as early as the sixth century bce. It was further developed by Trajan to control access to the canal from the Nile to the Red Sea built in his reign, and was fortified by Diocletian to control movement on the canal and in the harbor (Sheehan 2015). A large Roman base was established in Luxor in the fourth century ce, in the form of a double camp built around the Temple of Amun-Ra, which was rededicated to the emperor cult (El-Saghir et al. 1986); its impressive Roman decorative program has recently undergone conservation (Monneret De Villard 1953; Jones and McFadden 2015). Because of its agricultural wealth, relatively remote location, and, thus, its importance as power base, Octavian declared Egypt a royal domain, overseen by a trusted man of equestrian rank, the prefect, who had a broad administrative scope. The first prefect of the new province was C. Cornelius Gallus, and his successors came from the same social background (Goodman

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1997, 265–266). Egypt was off-limits to senators unless given explicit permission to visit. The western and especially the southern borders formed an extensive part of the Roman limes. Explorations of the Western Desert brought the Romans into contact with different populations beyond the coastal Libyan inhabitants. There were regular conflicts with nomadic populations in the Eastern Desert and with forces from the South. Around 20 bce the Roman Empire found itself in conflict with the Kingdom of Meroe, at Egypt’s southern border. An army base was established at Hiera Sykaminos (Maharaqqa, flooded after the closing of the Aswan High Dam in the 1960s), and there were regular attacks by the Meroites and the desert dwelling population identified as “Blemmyes” (see below) until the Romans withdrew to Syene (modern day Aswan) under Diocletian in 298 ce and abandoned the 12 stadia south of Aswan, the Dodekashoenos.

Farmland, Taxes, and Economy The chora, the land outside the urban centers, formed the backbone of the economy of Roman Egypt; agriculture was the mainstay of existence for Egypt’s people as well as its Roman rulers. The calendar, based upon the ancient Egyptian one, was closely linked to the agricultural cycle and started in late August with the month of Thoth, the height of the Nile inundation (Table 31.2). If survey is the most suitable technique to understand issues of landscape, settlement archaeology provides information on what was consumed in the villages, and also what was grown on the fields beyond. Because of their continued use, agricultural fields are difficult to investigate archaeologically, but intrasite archaeobotanical and zooarchaeological analysis can provide information on agricultural and pastoral methods used outside the settlements. The identification of weeds among stored grain or chaff informs us, for instance, about irrigation and harvest methods. Dung analysis enables an understanding of animal fodder, as well as discard methods. Mudbricks not only include soil, but also straw and chaff, thus forming a time capsule of agricultural products, uncontaminated by the modern intrusions that swirl around archaeological excavations (Cappers 2006). Table 31.2  The Egyptian months in the Greco-Roman period and their approximate equivalents in the Julian calendar. Egyptian Calendar

Julian Calendar

Thoth

September

Phaophi

October

Hathyr

November

Choiak

December

Tybi

January

Mecheir

February

Phamenoth

March

Pharmouthi

April

Pachon

May

Pauni

June

Epeiph

July

Mesore

August



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Beyond feeding the population of Egypt, grain in the form of taxation sustained the populations of Alexandria and Rome, and therefore upheld the ruling class who provided bread and games. Excavations in Karanis, an agricultural town in the Fayum, illustrate the balance between locally consumed and exported goods. Hard wheat (Triticum turgidum ssp. durum) and hulled 6-row barley (Hordeum vulgare ssp. vulgare) were grown, taxed, and stored in one of the many identified thesauri (Husselman 1952; Figure 31.2). Some of these were government run (see below), while others were private enterprises in which landowners could store their harvests for their own use, or as payment for their tenants. The storage spaces were large mudbrick chambers of approximately 2 × 3 m, with high vaulted ceilings to provide air circulation for the stored goods, and divided into two or three compartments with a depth of 1.50 m; these bins were extremely well plastered, to protect the contents from dirt, insects, and rodents. Stored goods were not just grains, but pulses (beans and lentils), as well as large quantities of safflower seeds (Carthamus tinctorius, ancient cnecus) for producing oil. The surface of Karanis today is littered with grindstones. The smaller Theban granite hand mills (Figure 31.3a) are particularly suited to grind wheat and barley, and are of a type that has its origin and largest spread in the Eastern Mediterranean and the Greek colonies (Frankel 2003). Large circular grindstones, mostly of poor local limestone, were not used to grind grain, which was exported as kernels rather than flour, but to crush olives before the pulp was pressed into oil. They are often found in combination with shallow circular limestone dishes of about 1 m diameter, and round-topped limestone drums with extensive use-wear on the rounded side (Figure 31.3b). These too were likely used in oil production, perhaps for crushing olives, linseed or safflower seeds before grinding or pressing. Fruits that had traditionally been grown in Egypt continued to be important: dates, doam nuts, pomegranates, and increasingly peaches and various nuts were grown or imported into Roman Egypt. Excavations by the University of Michigan from 1924 to 1935, as well as recent excavations by UCLA from 2005 to 2015, yielded ample evidence for agricultural tools, such as plows, rakes, and baskets (Wilfong 2014; Barnard et al. 2017).

Figure 31.2  A first century Karanis house (black outline), remodeled in the fourth century to an agricultural storage building (white outline). Photo by Willeke Wendrich, formatted by John Wallrodt.

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Figure 31.3  Grain was ground in hand mills made of Aswan red granite (a). Large stone dishes and rocker drums made of local limestone (b) were used at all Roman sites in the Fayum as implements for crushing olives before grinding, or safflower seeds before pressing. Photos by Willeke Wendrich.



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From Egypt’s earliest history onwards, the tax system had been closely related to the Nile inundation, and despite administrative changes at the beginning of the Roman period, this system was maintained. Each village presumably had at least one storage facility for the tax revenue, the thesauros tes komes, and the size of extant granaries gives some indication of agricultural yield. Taxes were measured in cubic el, or artabae. If we follow Husselman’s (1952) calculation that a cubic meter contains approximately 33 to 34 artabae, each of the large granaries in Karanis would have contained approximately 2500 artabae of grain. It is, however, unclear if that number can serve as an approximation of the quantity that was paid in taxes on an annual basis, and how much of the wider countryside’s taxes were collected in this one village. Blouin’s (2014) work on charred papyri found in the northern town of Mendes gives additional important insights on taxes and land tenure in the Delta. Different taxation rates were used for different types of land, partly based on the Pharaonic system, which mainly distinguished royal estates and temple estates, and on a Ptolemaic system giving lower-taxed land to the cleruchs (Egyptian veterans) and the katoikoi (Greek veterans). Under Augustus, these plots were considered private lands (idiotike ge) and were taxed differently than public (previously royal) lands (basilike ge) and temple-owned lands (hiera ge). There were even lower tax rates for unproductive (hypologos ge) and swampy lands (limnitike ge) (Blouin 2012). The pressure put on the population to cultivate even these marginal areas is reflective of the burden of taxes. The effects of a bad harvest were felt most immediately in the countryside, not because of lack of food, but as defaults on taxes. This sometimes resulted in anachoresis, an abandonment of house and land and flight into the desert, as recorded in the Mendes papyri around 159-160 and 168-170 ce. This desperate but pragmatic withdrawal is a recurring theme in the history of Egypt, though the term “anachoretic” for hermits or coenobitic communities is perhaps best known from the massive turn towards monastic Christianity in the late third to early fourth century ce. For example, the boskoi or “grazing monks” dressed in skins or mats, did not have shelter, and ate herbs with the goats and sheep they herded. The contrast between the wild inaccessible desert or swampland and the cultivated farmland developed from a social phenomenon to a religious trope. But as Blouin (2014) pointed out, Roman authors considered the impoverished farmers as marauding bandits: the notion that the Nile Delta would be anything other than the ideal cultural field was apparently anathema to the Roman imagination. This idealized landscape, as reflected in the Palestrina Mosaic, was not just symbolic of Egypt as the source of agricultural wealth, but typified it. Gradual economic decline was felt beyond the village, however, and affected all parts of Roman Egyptian society. Different explanations have been suggested for the pattern of economic growth and decline from the first to the fifth centuries ce. Higher living standards after Egypt’s inclusion in the Roman Empire have been explained as due to an increase in specialization (Smithian growth), but this seems to have had a short-lived effect. Schumpeterian growth, on the other hand, proposes a longer term improvement of living standards based on higher production through better technology, innovation, and creative destruction (Aghion, Akcigit, and Howitt 2015; Harper 2016). Alston (2002) pointed at the army as a cause of profound economic change. The Roman army was perhaps the empire’s largest economic driving force as well as its major societal expense. Because the economy was based on grain measures as well as coinage, understanding changes over time is complicated and can only be achieved by comparing agricultural yield, subsistence minima, and grain volumes with the values of copper, silver, and gold coinage, and weights. Written sources provide the key for this approach, and a good example is a comparison of the price of several cereals from Papyrus Oxyrrhynchus 3455 (Table 31.3). To understand the monetary value of the quantities in Table 31.3, the densities of the cereals need to be taken into account, because they are calculated in dry measures. The term “drachma” was both a weight and a currency and the word literally means a “handful” (of oboloi, see Table 31.4). The artaba and drachma were both variable measures, which

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Table 31.3  Weights of Grains in P.Oxy. 3455. The densities of wheat are considered to be 78.06 kg/hl; barley 62.45 kg/hl; and olyra 36.43 kg/hl (Rathbone 1983). 1 artaba

1 metron

1 choinix

pyros (hard wheat)

1/2 talanton

300 drachmai

75 drachmai

krithe (barley)

24 minai

240 drachmai

60 drachmai

olyra (undet. cereal)

14 minai

140 drachmai

35 drachmai

Table 31.4  Alexandrian coinage in approximate relation to the denarius. Ten minai is approximately 3.5 kg; The denarius equaled a silver tetradrachm, which at the time of Augustus contained 3.9 gram of silver. appr. weight

oboloi

drachmai tetradrachmai

denarii

minai

talanton

1 obol

0.7 gr.

1

1/7

1/28

1/28

1/4201/600

1/36,000

1 drachma (bronze)

4.3 gr.

6-7

1

4

1/4

1/701/100

1/6000

1 tetradrachma (silver)

3.9 gr

14

4

1

1

1/10

1/1500

1 denarius

17 gr.

21-29

4

1

1

1/10

1/1500

1 mina

430 gr.

420-600

70 - 100

10

10

1

1/60

1 talent

44 kg

36,000

6000

1500

1500

60

1

complicates the task of understanding ancient economy, in spite of the ample evidence in Egyptian papyri. To understand the real value of these measures, Alston (2002) calculated that it was standard to plant one artaba of grain per aroura, which would have a seven-fold yield, producing seven artabai of cereals. Although the artaba varied, he presumed that the minimum subsistence level would be 1.25 artabai per adult per month. A farmer in the second century ce, who was responsible for feeding his family and paying taxes, would need to plant at least five arourai of land, a property worth 1,270 drachmai. In Table 31.3 the prices of three cereals are compared: pyros, wheat, probably the variety Triticum turgidum ssp. durum used mostly for export to Rome; cheaper krithe, barley (Hordeum vulgare); and the most affordable of the three, olyra, the identification of which is unclear, but is the Egyptian term for a grain used as fodder. Suggestions that this was emmer wheat (Triticum dicoccum) or sorghum (Sorghum bicolor) are considered invalid by Rathbone (1983). The value of each grain is expressed in three measures: per artaba, a dry content measure of approximately 40 choinikes or 43 liters; per metron, a tenth of an artaba (approximately 4 liters); and per choinix, slightly over one liter. The value of these quantities is expressed in talents and drachmas. The Egyptian sources mostly wrote in Greek currency values, but also referred to Roman coinage. Table 31.4 gives an overview of the approximate values. Based on analysis of hoard finds and references to payments in papyri, it is clear that in the first and second centuries ce the Roman denarius was used in Egypt as an accounting device, a measure of value rather than an actual coin in circulation. Alexandria minted abundant coinage, judging from its presence in many hoards, but no denarii are found among them (Christiansen 1984). The Ptolemaic silver tetradrachm remained long in use, though Tiberius, unlike Augustus, allowed coins in his name to be minted in Alexandria. There was a gradual



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decline of the percentage of silver in the newly minted coinage, in particular under Nero, though this went hand-in-hand with developments at other mints, including Rome (see Burrell, “Coinage,” chapter 4 of this volume). Diocletian’s coinage reform in 294 ce turned Alexandria into an imperial mint rather than a provincial one. Greek-style coinage was phased out in favor of the gold solidus, the follis, a term derived from “bag” (of coins), and a lower denomination, the nummus (Sutherland 1955, 117). The traditional Ptolemaic terms remained in use in written accounts, however, until the fourth and fifth century. For instance, in Oxyrhynchus in 297 ce, payment of a loan made in Ptolemaic silver specified that it was repaid in the new coinage (“Trismegistos P.Oxy.31.2587” 2018). Changing the coinage was not sufficient, however. The fluctuating economic situation spurred several emperors to take additional measures, among which Diocletian’s “Edict on the Sale Price of Goods” in 301 ce is perhaps the best known, defining maximum prices for specific goods. Indications of a failing economy and rampant inflation in the fourth and fifth centuries is shown by the material, size, and weight of the coins as well as by the (probably illegal) minting of inferior coinage. In Dionysias (modern Qasr Qarun in the Fayum), for instance, excavations yielded lead tokens that presumably replaced bronze or billon coinage and approximately fifteen thousand poor-quality terracotta coin molds, at a time when fifth century bronze coins were becoming smaller and thinner, from a diameter of approximately 15 mm to irregular round slivers of metal of 5 mm diameter or less (Milne 1905, 1922).

Settlements: The Urban, Social, and Legal Fabric The configuration of settlements can be considered the material reflection of state influence in daily life. At the top of Roman Egypt’s settlement hierarchy were three (later four) poleis, Greek cities: Alexandria, Ptolemais Hermiou (modern Minshah) in Upper Egypt, Naukratis, and after 130 ce, the new foundation Antinoopolis. There were then approximately 50 metropoleis (“mother-cities”), capitals of the traditional, but partly reorganized, Egyptian nomes, each governed by a strategos. Komai, or villages, formed the rural fabric of this hierarchical structure, and were taxed the most heavily, while citizens of the poleis had special rights, including a lower tax rate. Orthogonally structured settlements were not introduced in the Greco-Roman period, but were known throughout Egyptian history. Examples are the centrally planned and often walled villages, such as the workmen’s barracks and adjacent settlement in Giza, dated to the Old Kingdom; the priestly village at Kahun, a Middle Kingdom settlement; and the New Kingdom village of Amarna. Settlements built in the third century bce in the Fayum started out on an orthogonal plan with well-defined blocks, but substantial modifications to houses, courtyards, and streets minimized any resemblance to an ideal Greek or Roman orthogonal organization. We can explore abandoned Roman villages in Egypt’s desert regions, but urban archaeology is complicated by the populous centers that have been built up subsequently. Of the original three poleis, only Alexandria is more or less accessible for archaeological research. It is not just because modern cities cover ancient ones that the layout of settlements is difficult to discern. Even villages that were abandoned and covered by desert sands were excavated in the early twentieth century by local farmers (sebakhin) who removed large parts of the buildings to use the fertile earth (sebakh) in their mudbrick as fertilizer on the fields, sometimes at an industrial scale and organization (Boak and Peterson 1931). If it is not orthogonal layout that distinguishes traditional Egyptian from Hellenistic and Roman architecture, the change in civic building certainly does. In the villages, Roman baths stand out as the most striking novelty. In spite of the destruction of the center of Karanis by

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sebakhin, the remains of at least six baths have been found. Other important Roman urban features, such as forums, theaters, hippodromes, and colonnaded streets with honorific ­tetrakionia at important crossings have been identified in at least two of the poleis, Alexandria and Antinoopolis (Figure 31.4), though not in excavations in, e.g., the Fayum. Remains of a tetrakionion have also been found at Hermopolis Magna (Bailey 1996) and recently in the harbor town of Berenike (Sidebotham et al. 2021, Tafel XIII, XIV). Though textual sources

Figure 31.4  The assumed layout of Alexandria (top) and Antinoopolis (bottom), with the location of the hippodrome, theater, and the decumanus maximus (Canopis street in Alexandria and the colonnaded street in Antinoopolis). Drawn by Willeke Wendrich, based on Google Earth imagery.



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tell us that membership of the gymnasion had a central social and legal function, and that every metropolis probably had at least one, they have not yet been archaeologically attested. Alexandria was not considered to be located in Egypt, but was distinguished from other localities named after Alexander the Great with the specification Alexandria at Egypt. The street pattern of modern-day Alexandria reflects the orthogonal layout of the original city, but archaeology can only take place when a building is demolished and replaced by a new, often high-rise, building with deep, destructive foundations (Empereur 2017). We know that Alexandria was divided into five organizational sectors named Alpha through Epsilon (Bowman and Rathbone 1992), but these cannot be recognized archaeologically. The aim of settlement archaeology is to understand the way persons lived and interacted in towns and villages, both inside and outside their houses. Street plans, placement of house entrances, and house lay-outs regulate activities, contacts, and relationships between members of the household, family, visitors, and outsiders. The protective placement of entrances, which in Egypt typically avoided direct lines of sight to the inner parts of the house, was reproduced in the Greco-Roman tower houses of Karanis, where one entered through a courtyard or a staircase. These houses had a relatively small ground plan (ca. 45  m2) and thick, load-bearing mudbrick walls that allowed expansion vertically rather than horizontally. Publication of a selection of well-preserved houses in Karanis, however, has established a template for interpreting Roman domestic architecture that is too limited and does not account for considerable regional differences (Husselman 1979; Boozer 2015). A study of town expansion in fourth century Karanis demonstrates that the layout and function of buildings could change from storage or stable to domestic space and vice versa (Simpson 2014; Barnard et al. 2017), as shown by the building history of a house turned storage facility, illustrated above (Figure 31.2). It is a matter of debate and emphasis whether the organization of Roman Egypt should be considered a continuation of, or a departure from, that of the Ptolemies (Bowman and Rathbone 1992). Land tenure in ancient Egypt varied markedly over time and region, but in the early Ptolemaic period earlier regulations were generally continued, except for newly reclaimed lands such as those in the Fayum (Katary 2012). The introduction of the tributum capitis/laographia, the poll tax, which had to be paid by all male inhabitants from age 14 to 62, including slaves, was certainly a Roman innovation. Only Romans and Alexandrian citizens, their slaves, and holders of specific civil and religious positions were exempt. This made the distinction of who was (potentially) a Roman citizen important financially, as well as legally and socially. Whereas during the Ptolemaic period only the Greek citizens of the poleis Naukratis and Alexandria, as well as Greek veterans settled in newly established villages, had special rights, Roman rule emphasized ethnicity as a qualitative difference among Romans, Greeks, and Egyptians. Many papyri found in the Fayum illustrate the effect of this strategy on social relations, and the ways Egyptians tried to find around it. For example, the Roman citizen Sempronia Gemella probably had two children with the wealthy Egyptian Socrates. Recognizing him as the father of these children would have cost them their Roman citizenship, so their paternity was registered as “unknown” (van Minnen 1994). In the Ptolemaic period the registration of ethnicity required that both parents had to be part of the same deme. In the Roman period the system was reorganized, but recognition of both parents was maintained, with sharp distinctions among Roman citizens, Greek inhabitants of Alexandria (who were candidates for Roman citizenship), Greek inhabitants who were members of the gymnasion, and the Egyptian population. In order to populate his new city, Hadrian drew upon the gymnasion class of the metropoleis, and named the citizens of Antinoopolis neoi Hellenes, “new Greeks” (Bowman and Rathbone 1992). Around 200/201 ce, under Septimius Severus, the appointment of metropolis officials by the strategos came to an end, replaced by the decisions of a council elected by the non-Egyptian population. Then

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in 212 the Edict of Caracalla, or Constitutio Antoniniana, provided nearly all free men of the Roman Empire, including Roman, Greek, and Egyptian inhabitants of Egypt, with Roman citizenship. The Roman Empire allowed the continuation of existing laws, Egyptian and Ptolemaic, under the overarching Roman legal system, as illustrated by the Regulations of the “Private Account,” or Gnomon of the Idios Logos, known from two sources, P. Oxy. XLII 3014 (midfirst century) and papyrus BGU V 1210 (147 ce). The Idios Logos was the treasury office responsible for administering imperial land, confiscating properties and levying fines for violations of inheritance or marriage laws. Its 115 rules specify separate regulations for Roman citizens, Greek inhabitants, and Egyptians, allowing insight in the different positions of Roman, Greek, and Egyptian women, for example. To what extent was Roman influence a veneer? The answer to this question depends on which aspect of society one looks at. The distinctions among the three classes of inhabitants of the province discussed above were not directly related to Roman law, but adapted to the particular situation in Egypt. The Roman period saw many changes and industrial innovations, ranging from glass production to basketry (Wendrich 1999; Stern 1999). Yet underlying them was a deep-rooted continuity from the Pharaonic period, especially in the countryside. A case in point is the comparison of modern toponyms with Pharaonic and Greco-Roman place names. Even though all major settlements were renamed in the GrecoRoman period, none of these classical place names have survived today, with the exception of Thebes and Alexandria. Thebes was known in classical sources, such as Iliad 4.406 and 9.383, as “Thebes of the hundred gates.” The name is a Greek rendering of Ta Ipet, the Egyptian name for the Karnak temple complex, which indeed had many impressive pylon-gateways. But Thebes comprised much more than Karnak, and was the name given to what today are the antiquities on the east and west bank of the Nile at Luxor. The ancient name of Luxor was Waset, while the modern name is derived from Arabic. Beyond Thebes and the city named after Alexander the Great, most current Egyptian place names are either Arabized versions or translations of pre-classical Egyptian names.

Persons: Cultural Identity and Religion The Gnomon’s division of the inhabitants of Egypt into Romans, Greek astoi, and Aigyptioi was an extreme simplification of a very complex reality. Many ethnic categories are only known from Roman written sources, often based on incomplete information and hearsay: for example, the many names Strabo calls nomadic peoples in Egypt’s Eastern Desert include cave-dwellers, dog-milkers, and elephant-eaters (Barnard 2007). If we consider languages spoken and written, religions followed, personal names, housing, foodways, clothing, and burial practices, all elements that can be gleaned archaeologically, we confront a very complex mosaic. In addition, gender, age, professional group, and social position were important markers of identity. Archaeologists and historians are increasingly aware that context and interaction determined how one felt or could present oneself. Thus settlement archaeology is an important, but not the only, approach towards understanding the self-identification of individuals and communities. To start with language: Latin was used for official military inscriptions and for addressing and greeting in otherwise Greek letters. Greek was the administrative language and the lingua franca of Egypt. At home, the Aigyptioi undoubtedly spoke Egyptian, as shown by the fact that Demotic (the latest phase of cursive Egyptian written language) and Coptic (the latest Egyptian language phase, written in an augmented Greek alphabet) developed next to Greek for contracts, letters, and religious and funerary texts. The spoken language varied



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strongly along the 1000 km of Nile Valley and across the Nile Delta, which even today is difficult to cross from east to west. The different dialects of Coptic reflect these regional variations: Fayyumic Coptic and Demotic are similar; they are distinct from Sahidic (also named Thebaic, an “urban” rather than South-Egyptian dialect), Akhmimic, and Bohairic (a ninth century ce ecclesiastical development from the region around Alexandria). There were undoubtedly many other dialects, but these were never systematically recorded (Loprieno 1995). The Roman army, with troops hailing from different regions of the empire and using their own languages in bilingual dedications, brought different ethnicities into Egypt: for example, Dacians are mentioned in ostraca found in the Roman way-station of Krokodilo (Cuvigny 2005). Two inscriptions found in one shrine at Berenike indicate the presence of Nabataeans (Sidebotham and Wendrich 1998, 1999): a dedication to the Palmyrene god Hierobal/ Yaribol in Greek and Palmyrene mentions the Prefect Amelius Celer and the cavalry unit Ala Heracliana, as well as the name of the sculptor of a bronze statue, Berichei (Figure 31.5); it dates after 180 ce, when the Ala Heracliana was transferred to Egypt, and before 212, when new-minted Roman citizens would have taken Roman names. That change is shown by the second inscription, a dedication to Julia Domna, the mother of Caracalla, by Marcus Aurelius Mocimos, dated September 8, 215 ce. The imperial praenomen and nomen coupled with the Semitic cognomen, plus the dedication to the emperor cult rather than Yaribol, indicates a shift of personal identification and religion that took place over less than 35 years. The importance of Greek language went beyond army and administration. The lettered population of Greek origin, but also Egyptian priests, were reading Greek literary texts. Enticing references to literary tropes and word play demonstrate an ease of using the language even in remote regions such as the oases in the Western Desert and the Fayum, as illustrated in the papyri from Karanis (Verhoogt 2017a, 2017b). The adoption of Greek names showed an affinity with and choice for a Greek life style, as well as aspiration to belong to that privileged class, but we encounter Greek and indigenous names in subsequent generations of the same family. Children were preferentially named after their grandparents, but it was especially the women of gymnasial families who would continue to bear Egyptian names, since women were considered to move in more private spheres, rather than having the public role of the men. It would, therefore, be an oversimplification to equate name and ethnicity (Rowlandson 2013). In the complex of identity defined by Rome, gender roles varied greatly between urban and rural environments as well as social strata. Greek women were more limited in their freedom and legal rights than Egyptian women. As in earlier times, marriage in Egypt was not a legal bond but an informal agreement between the spouses and their families. The full influence of the Gnomon of the Idios Logos was found in matters of inheritance. Women had the right to inherit, usually not from their husbands, but from their parents. Similarly, the children of a legitimate marriage would inherit from their father, even if their mother survived her husband, but provisions were made that she could stay in the family’s house. This changed in case she decided to remarry, as the second marriage was legally considered similar to earlier marriages (Malouta 2012). Divorce was possible, and could be requested by the wife if her husband was unfaithful, in which case she would receive her dowry and part of the property (Arnaoutoglou 1995). Unique to Egypt in Ptolemaic and Roman times was an increase in brother-sister marriages, a relationship that was unacceptable under Roman law. Royal weddings between brother and sister, however, had been known especially from the early New Kingdom period, as well as among the Ptolemaic kings and queens. Scholars have debated whether spouses were indeed full brother and sister, or if a daughter married an adopted son (Hübner 2013), or if the terms “brother-sister” should be understood as endearments, as in ancient Egyptian love poetry (McDowell 1999). It seems, however, that sibling marriages actually did take

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Figure 31.5  Inscription found in Berenike, crediting the sculptor Berichei for creating a statue of Palmyrene Good Fortune. Photo by Willeke Wendrich.

place. It is unclear whether this was elite emulation or a financial measure to keep inherited property in the family. Some papyri mention full brother-sister marriages explicitly, and the phenomenon, especially known in the Arsinoite nome of the Fayum, seems to have spread from the metropoleis to the chora (Malouta 2012, 293). The textual definitions of ethnicity and gender were mostly legalistic and difficult to define archaeologically. Clothing and foodways can help us understand cultural, regional, and social differentiation within a general period, but both have been understudied. In many Roman cemeteries a wide range of intricately crafted textiles can be found, often on the surface near robbed-out tombs, discarded by illegal excavators. The variety of these highly decorated garment fragments, mostly of cotton and dyed wool, provide a glimpse of individual preferences that could potentially be linked with bioarchaeological analyses, and compared with the portraits found on mummies.



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Religious identity was equally complex. Apart from clearly identified groups such as the Ioudaioi, an official Roman ethnic categorization with an increasingly pejorative meaning, the Roman East was fertile ground for the development of religious cults (Frankfurter 1998). The physical remains of Roman burials and the role of the choachytes, a professional priesthood that took care of service to the dead, showed a continued concern for and strong belief in life after death. Increasingly, the mummified body became a self-contained means of negotiating the transition to the afterlife (Montserrat and Meskell 1997; Riggs 2006). The depictions of human faces on mummies vary greatly in style, from monochrome bright pink plaster to realistically colored and lifelike portraits in Hellenistic style. These differences reflect not just style or craftsmen’s training, but different goals: the primary aim of the stylized portraits is efficacy in protecting the deceased in the transition to the afterlife, rather than realism (Riggs 2006). Out of almost one thousand mummy portraits that have a Greek or Demotic inscription, only 25 are identified by the name of the deceased. Instead, the mummy was identified by a label, which was sometimes accidentally separated from it. When Petrie excavated the portrait mummies in Hawara, he found an above-ground shrine or chapel dedicated to the family ancestor cult. Based on the chaotic placement of the burials, he concluded that the rationale of portrait mummies was to be displayed as ancestors in the house or shrine, and that burial only followed after the memory of the deceased had faded (Petrie 1911). Recent finds in elAlamein confirm that “the costly and lavishly decorated mummies were mainly appreciated during the funerary ceremonies and festivals for the dead before burial” (Borg 2010, 3). Beyond the funerary sphere, it is difficult to assess from archaeological remains how much aspects of Egyptian religion continued or changed in Roman and late Roman times. Household shrines were equipped with terracotta or faience statuettes of Egyptian domestic gods: Harpocrates, Bes, and Isis were most popular, but Serapis and Greek gods such as Dionysos or Aphrodite (sometimes syncretized with Isis) were found as well. Oracles, which at least from the New Kingdom on offered a way for non-priests to be in personal contact with the divine, mushroomed in number and variety (G. Tallet 2012). Another religious expression from Pharaonic times that blossomed in the last millennium bce and the Roman period was offering votive animal mummies to the gods with whom they were connected. Millions of mummies of dogs (for the god Anubis), cats (Bastet), hawks or falcons (Horus), baboons and ibises (Thoth), crocodiles (Sobek), and rams (Amun) were buried in repurposed or newly excavated catacombs, of which the best known are in Sakkara and Tuna el-Gebel. Originally a deed of piety when a believer encountered a deceased representative of the god and had it mummified and buried properly, pilgrims who visited temples donated a deliberately mummified animal produced in what became a large scale industry, to the bemusement and scorn of Greeks and Romans. Recent analysis of these mummies has shown that the animals were bred and killed for mummification; some mummies only contain a few feathers or a bone bundled with straw or mud (Ikram 2005). Temples had expanded under the Ptolemies, in particular by adding an innovation, the mammisi, or birth house, a separate building in important temple compounds that celebrated the birth of the god, rather than the king as in Pharaonic Egypt (Kaper 2002; Kockelmann 2011). This continued into the Roman period, though otherwise religious innovation slowed down or halted. Impoverishment of temples that no longer received royal contributions may not have been a primary cause of decline in the traditional Egyptian religion, but could have contributed to a sense of bleakness, in tandem with the inferior position of Egyptians in their own country (Frankfurter 1998). Procopius stated that the last Egyptian sanctuary, the Isis temple on Philae, was closed in 535-537 ce on the order of Justinian (Eide et al. 1998, 328). This was, however, not the first move against Egyptian worship, and certainly did not erase phenomena that followed the constantly evolving religious ways of life (Frankfurter 2018). While the great temples gradually lost their functions of archives, schools, hospitals, and

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granaries, village priests and trusted women continued their apotropaic and healing traditions. Even today, Egyptian villagers, irrespective of their official religion, will visit certain temple ruins as well the burial places of Christian and Muslim saints to seek help and health.

Science and Its Limits Scientific analysis is increasingly used to address archaeological questions, ranging from absolute dating, climate, how ceramic vessels were used (residue analysis), where people and animals moved (isotopic analysis), illness, and ethnicity (DNA analysis). Although science is often considered “objective,” these all involve complicated assessments of what the measured values actually mean, and are fundamentally theory driven. The pejorative names given by Roman authors to almost mythical Eastern Desert tribes, such as the “dog-milkers” and “elephant eaters” mentioned above, demonstrate that (the supposed) diet is at the center of ethnic characterization. Foodways are an aspect of identity strongly related to regional rather than individual preferences. Under Rome, wheat and barley were staples, as they had been in Pharaonic Egypt, but the variety of foodstuffs available increased, and their preparation would have had regional or local peculiarities. Residue analysis of vessels can provide information on contents and link ceramic forms to particular foodstuffs, but provides very particular information that does not clarify details of food preparation or cuisine. DNA sequencing has allowed researchers to reconstruct the pathogens that caused the Justinianic plague in the sixth century ce as Yersinia pestis (Wagner et al. 2014). An earlier epidemic of the late second century, the Antonine plague, has been identified most often as either small pox or measles (Elliott 2016). Ancient historians wrote of the decimation of the Roman army and the suffering of the people of Rome, but the evidence from Egypt, mainly descriptions in letters, is circumstantial at best. Tax records indicate that there was depopulation in villages, for instance in Karanis (Verhoogt 2017a) and the Egyptian delta town of Mendes (Blouin 2014), and such texts, along with archaeological evidence for depopulation or a lull in trade or agriculture, have been taken as a proxy for the disease (van Minnen 2001). None of these, however, can confirm that the Antonine plague was the (sole) cause of these phenomena in Egypt, and climate has been considered as an alternative or additional explanation (Elliott 2016). As this case shows, care must be taken in interpreting scientific results, especially in combination with or as evidence for textual accounts. DNA analysis has been optimistically considered a solution to questions pertaining to “race” and “ethnicity,” but the disconnect between DNA results and material culture shows why gender, culture, language, and ethnic identity cannot be understood from genetics, as was already pointed out over twenty years ago (Mirza and Dungworth 1995).

Conclusion: Scales of Perspective The archaeology of Roman Egypt provides rich but conflicting evidence for many elements of religion, politics, and daily life. Depending on the source, the region, and the archaeological context, we find evidence showing how Egypt, and especially the Delta, was glorified as perfect fertile land and Rome’s bread basket, while we learn from the archives of the Delta city of Mendes that farmers were fleeing into the desert because they could not eke out a living or had to avoid debilitating taxes. The Palestrina mosaic, for instance, shows the delta as an idyllic landscape, while for large parts of the population it was anything but (Harper 2016).



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Studying the archaeology of Roman Egypt should, therefore, be done at different scales of time and space. In the Fayum settlements, originally founded to settle the veterans of Ptolemaic warfare, the accident of birth and the generation in which one was born determined whether one was a Roman citizen or not. It determined which law was applied and what rights one had. The constant negotiation of different cultural identities in many parts of Egypt engaged every layer in society. From emperor to village bureaucrat, it mattered how one represented oneself through one’s name, language, clothing, house style, religious activity, and daily behavior. Perhaps the most stable portion of society was the Egyptian farmer: though directly affected by decisions from higher up, and occasionally adopting and adapting innovations like the saqia water wheel or the Archimedes screw (both pre-dating the Roman period), farmers continued to work the land in ways based on long traditions. Nonetheless, there were crucial regional differences in agriculture, industries, trade, and religion, going back to the Pharaonic period. If we study Roman Egypt at different scales of space and time, we can assess the changes and continuations between generations, as well as the enduring differences between regions. Perhaps the most difficult task of all is to discern how internalized, multivalent, and far-reaching the various identities were that people displayed in interaction with others. People with different identities, based on gender, age, religion, ethnic affiliation, professional responsibilities, and regional traditions, rarely wrote about what that meant to them, but they all produced and used material culture.

Biographical Note Willeke Wendrich (PhD Leiden University, 1999) holds the Joan Silsbee Chair in African Cultural Archaeology and is professor of Egyptian Archaeology and Digital Humanities in the NELC Department at UCLA. She has directed archaeological projects in Egypt, Yemen, Ethiopia, and currently in Italy, with a strong focus on ethnoarchaeology and community archaeology. She has published widely on archaeology, communities of practice, and ancient craftmanship. She is director of the Cotsen Institute of Archaeology at UCLA.

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CHAPTER 32

Cyrenaica Susan Kane

History Geographically closer to Greece than any other inhabited region of Africa, the Cyrenaica is only 300 km south of Crete. In antiquity, it was closely linked to the eastern Mediterranean world. The region was first colonized by Greeks in the early seventh century bce, became part of the Ptolemaic Empire in the Hellenistic period, and finally a Roman province before being conquered by the army of the Arab general Amr ibn al-As in 643 ce. The Cyrenaica (Figure 32.1) is divided into three geographic regions: Marmarica in the east; Syrtica in the west; and the Pentapolis in the central part, in reference to its five major cities: Cyrene (Shahat); its port Apollonia (Marsa Susa); Ptolemais (Barka/Tolmeita); Teuchira (Arsinoe/Tocra); and Berenice (Euesperides/Sidi Krebish). From the early seventh century bce onward, Greeks founded cities in Cyrenaica (mainly in the coastal zone), intermarried with the local Libyans, and practiced an agrarian way of life, some living in small farms and settlements in the surrounding territory. A large indigenous semi-nomadic Libyan population lived in the region’s cultivable zones as well as the steppe lands to the south. As successive waves of settlers came during the Ptolemaic and Roman periods, the distinctive hybrid culture of the Cyrenaica was created, one aptly described as “a combination of Hellenic traditions, some derived from the archaic past, others from the contemporary Greek world, along with Roman and native Libyan (Berber) elements” (Reynolds 2000). The Cyrenaica became part of the Roman state in 96 bce upon the death of Ptolemy Apion, son of Ptolemy VII Physcon. The latter had willed the territory to Rome in the absence of a surviving heir, and on the death of Apion, Physcon’s will was implemented. Unwilling to assume full responsibility for the whole territory, the Roman Senate decided to administer only the Ptolemaic royal lands and to free the cities of the Pentapolis (Reynolds and Lloyd 1996). From 96 bce until 74/5 bce, when the Roman Senate authorized annexation of the entire territory as a Roman province, the Pentapolis was beset by economic decline, political chaos, and frequent raids from pirates and Libyan tribes. Pompey’s attacks on pirates in 67 bce

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 2, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



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Figure 32.1  Map of the province Cyrenaica, by John Wallrodt.

lessened that threat, but the start of the Roman civil war set off a new phase of instability. After the battle of Actium in 31 bce, Cyrenaica and Crete were combined into one province that was governed from Gortyn in Crete, with Cyrene as a secondary administrative center (see Sweetman, “Crete and Cyclades,” chapter 18 of this volume). The decision to administer the two regions as one province was likely based on their geographic proximity – the island of Crete is less than 300 km away – and easy connectivity by sea – a two-day sail according to Strabo, both reasons why the Romans chose to organize Cyrenaica and Crete into one province. The reorganization of the province during the early empire fomented a new wave of settlement into the countryside. This expansion into the territory of the local semi-nomadic Libyan tribes elicited a strong reaction, one that ultimately led to clashes between the two groups – the Marmaric War (ca. 2 bce–2 ce). At the end of this war, Cyrenaica was again left in an impoverished condition. Efforts were made in the Augustan period to improve security in the region through the installation of a small Roman garrison and by settlement of Latinspeaking veterans. In order to regularize land ownership in the province as well as to safeguard tax revenues, surveys of the royal estates were instituted by Claudius around 55 ce and again by Vespasian in 74. As settlements expanded into the interior, the Romans also improved the region’s road system and constructed a coordinated defensive system of small forts (limes) that successfully held (Reynolds 2000). Relations between Graeco-Roman and Jewish inhabitants, who had been living in the area since the Ptolemaic period, took a violent turn in the Jewish “Diaspora Revolt” of 115–117, an event that caused significant economic disruption in the region (Applebaum 1979; see Burrell, “Judaea,” chapter 29 of this volume). Whether this disorder was confined to cities or spilled over into the surrounding countryside is still debated. The city of Cyrene in particular seems to have been badly affected by the conflict. Restoration programs after the revolt included founding a new city (Hadrianopolis), bringing in new Greek settlers, and making land grants to some 3000 Roman legionary veterans.

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In the late Roman period, the region was struck by a series of destructive earthquakes, one in 262 ce and a well-documented one in 365 that also impacted the wider eastern Mediterranean. At the beginning of the fourth century, the province of Cyrenaica and Crete was divided and two provinces were created in eastern Libya: Libya Superior (the Cyrenaica) and Libya Inferior (the Marmarica). In the late fifth or early sixth centuries the area was under Byzantine rule. Graeco-Roman urban life in the region basically ended at the time of the Islamic conquest in 643.

Inscriptions Inscriptions provide evidence concerning all phases of the Cyrenaica’s history: the origins of settlers coming into the Cyrenaica, the government of cities and villages, religious cults, the work of Roman provincial administrators, the activities of the Roman military in the limes, as well as specific historical events. An online collection, Inscriptions of Roman Cyrenaica (2021), has a full epigraphic bibliography for the region. These inscriptions also provide information about the variety of people who lived there – the Greeks, Libyans, Romans, and other ethnic groups, who together created the distinctive culture of the Cyrenaica. Funerary inscriptions from the imperial period show that the residents of the region were using combinations of Libyan, Greek, and Latin names, a reflection of their mixed heritage. During the Roman period, Greek, rather than Latin, continued to be the region’s main language, a demonstration of the local population’s desire to remember their Greek origins. Even as late as the fourth century, this desire was vividly felt, as when Bishop Synesius, son of a Cyrenean family who proudly traced their lineage back to Spartan kings, wrote: Certainly people have distinct knowledge of the fact that there is always a living emperor, for we are reminded of this every year by the imperial agents who collect taxes; but exactly who, is not clear. Indeed, there are certain men among us, even at this late date, who think that Agamemnon, son of Atreus, is still in power, the same noble hero who attacked Troy. For we have been traditionally taught from childhood that this is the king’s name. (Letter 148.15–16)

The Peoples of the Cyrenaica Starting with the arrival of Greek colonists in the seventh century bce, the population of the Cyrenaica was an evolving mixture of indigenous peoples and foreign immigrants. In the Hellenistic period, the Ptolemaic kings who ruled the Cyrenaica promoted the settlement of Hellenized Jews and others, as seen from the inscriptional evidence, of probable Macedonian, Thracian, or Anatolian origin. By the first century bce, a number of Italian businessmen were living in the Cyrenaica and at various times later in the imperial period Roman veterans were settled in the region. The relations between these groups was often complex and fluctuated over time. Herodotus (4.156) wrote that intermarriage between Greek men and Libyan women began early in the colonization of the region. While it is not certain if the children from these early marriages had citizen rights, it is known that Ptolemy I ruled that the sons of Greek fathers and Libyan mothers were citizens.



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Inscriptional evidence shows that Cyrenaican families could use both Greek and Libyan names, sometimes in alternation. A Hellenistic dedication by a local woman in the extramural Sanctuary of Demeter and Persephone in Cyrene shows such a combination: “Patrophila, daughter of Bacal, dedicated (this) having promised (it)”. Although the dedicant appears to be Graeco-Libyan by name, her dedication is in standard Greek format (Kane 1998). Even with intermarriage, relations between Greeks and Libyans could be contentious, especially in regard to land rights. Local politics could also be affected by these interrelations. Plutarch (On the Virtues of Women 19) related the story of Aretaphila, a Cyrenean woman forced to marry Nikokrates, a tyrant who ruled Cyrene from 88–81 bce. She plotted to overthrow him with the aid of a Libyan prince named Anabus: by means of trickery, Aretaphila handed her husband over to Anabus, and together they freed Cyrene from tyranny. Their action was supported by Cyrene’s wealthy landowners, who wished to establish an oligarchic regime. By the late Hellenistic to the early imperial period, Italian immigrant families begin to intermarry with local, often wealthy, families who were often prominent philanthropists in their communities. An example of such civic euergetism can be seen in Claudia Venusta’s dedication of naoi to Great Demeter, the Kore, Parthenos, and Dionysos in the Wadi bel Gadir Sanctuary in Cyrene. She was the daughter of Claudius Cartisthenes Melior, the eponymous priest of Apollo at Cyrene in 108/9 ce, one of the most important offices in the city. The family was distinguished and wealthy; its male members appear to have held the most prestigious positions in the city over a period of several generations and were members of a select group of Cyreneans to whom the emperors Claudius and/or Nero gave Roman citizenship (Kane 1998). Many of the families prominent in the early imperial period continued to be influential and active, even after the upheavals of the Jewish Revolt in 115–117 ce and the influx of Roman veteran colonists. In the Sanctuary of Demeter and Persephone in the Wadi bel Gadir at Cyrene in the late second or early third century ce, a woman named Helvia Timareta dedicated a statue of Kore. She belonged to one of the Cyrenean families who possessed Roman citizenship before the Antonine Constitution and was probably related to L. Helvius Rufus, clerk of the city of Cyrene, who died in 89 ce, the only other bearer of her nomen so far attested in the Cyrenaica. The family may have been founded by an Italian immigrant to the province who acquired Cyrenean citizenship and who continued to hold a respectable position in the community for several centuries (Kane 1998). The striking interplay among Libyan, Greek, and Roman cultures can be best seen in the local traditions of tomb building in the Cyrenaica. This tradition started with the first Greek settlers in the sixth century bce and continued well into the Roman imperial period. The number and variety of tomb types – tumuli, circular built tombs, rock-cut temple-tombs, sarcophagi – increased over time, a testimony to the economic prosperity of the local residents. The rock-cut tombs often featured an external façade as well as a courtyard where funerary rituals were likely held. Tomb façades in the Classical and Hellenistic periods typically included a niche in which the image of a protective aniconic goddess was displayed (Beschi 1972). In the Roman period, stelae and portraits of the deceased were often added to additional niches in the façades. Many of these portraits depict individuals with a distinctive Graeco-Roman/Berber physiognomy, visual corroborations of the funerary inscriptions of individuals who used combined Libyan, Greek, and Latin names. In the countryside, tombs are more likely to reflect Libyan influences and often exhibit a hybrid combination of Graeco-Roman forms with distinctive Libyan iconography (Reynolds and Bacchielli 1987). In the Ptolemaic and Roman periods, tombs begin to lose their regional distinctiveness, copying stylistic elements seen on tombs in other areas of the eastern Mediterranean. The tradition of monumental tomb building ended by the third century (Cherstich 2011).

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Geography and Environment The Cyrenaica is a limestone massif on the central North African coast that juts northward into the Mediterranean sea; it encompasses an area of about four hundred km east–west by 150 km north–south. Most accounts of the Cyrenaica refer to it as essentially an “island” or “fertile ribbon” that is isolated from the rest of the African continent by uninhabitable wastelands to the east (the Syrtica), west (the Marmaric Desert), and south (the Sahara Desert), as well as by the Mediterranean Sea to the north (Johnson 1973; Fulford 1989; Quinn 2011). In contrast to the wastelands around it, the Cyrenaica’s climate and vegetation are distinctly Mediterranean. Ancient authors like Strabo, Pliny the Elder, and Diodorus Siculus divided the Cyrenaica into four climactic zones: fertile coast; middle terrace with abundant rainfall (Herodotus 4.157 called Cyrene a “hole in the heavens”); steppe land; and desert, a description that closely corresponds to the pattern of maquis, subhumid steppe, arid steppe, and desert seen in the region today (Johnson 1973). The Cyrenaica is dominated by the Gebel al Akhdar (Green Mountain), whose karstic landscape contains a number of interdependent micro-environments: plateaus at different altitudes, intermontane basins, and deep wadis (Horden and Purcell 2000). The Gebel rises in three stages from the sea coast to an altitude of about eight hundred meters. The coastal plain is separated from the second stage or plateau by steep, north-facing escarpments that are riddled by wadis whose beds facilitate paths of movement between the coastal plain and the interior. On this second stage where a line of springs emerge from the northern edge of the escarpment, the majority of the region’s habitation sites are located. The third stage, or southern dip-slope of the Gebel, transitions gradually into steppe lands and ultimately the Sahara desert. Like the second stage, this dip-slope was also a productive agricultural zone and perhaps the native habitat of the legendary silphium plant. The locations of the major cities of the Pentapolis – Cyrene, Apollonia, Ptolemais, Taucheira, and Berenice/Euesperides – as well as the siting of the smaller settlements around them were predicated on their proximity to good harbors, adequate water supply, and cultivable land, all readily available in the Cyrenaica (Jones and Little 1971).

Exploitation of the Landscape In antiquity, both Graeco-Roman farmers and Libyan semi-nomadic herders successfully managed to exploit the Gebel al Akhdar’s full range of environmental resources to sustain a mixed pastoral-agricultural lifestyle (Laronde 1986). The second stage of the Gebel, sheltered from the dry winds of the south, had better conditions for the growing of grain and the cultivation of fruit trees and vines. The third stage of the Gebel, drier and more exposed to the ghibli winds blowing from the south, was used for more extensive cultivation of cereal crops as well as livestock breeding. Pastoral nomadism, as practiced by the Libyan tribes, combined the practice of transhumance with seasonal small-scale agriculture and gathering activities, such as the picking of silphium. The coexistence between Graeco-Roman and Libyan inhabitants was not always peaceful, particularly at times when access to water and land was contested. The fluctuating extent of the region’s agricultural settlements over time can be linked to the shifting balance between these two competing factions. Traces of agricultural field divisions are still partially preserved in areas of the coastal plain west of Apollonia and on the upper stage of the Gebel near Safsaf and al-Qubba (Laronde 1987). Visible on aerial photographs and on the ground as boundary marks or field lines near



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ancient roads, these divisions are not always in the style of regular alignment typically known as Roman centuriation. Their irregular patterns appear to have accommodated the practices of local inhabitants. A more regular system of field lines occurs south of Lamluda; these may reflect a later regularization of the land division in that area in the second or third century, when agricultural settlement was expanding to its limits (Menozzi et al. 2014). There are few vestiges of field divisions on the fertile land to the southwest of Cyrene, possibly because this area was the territory of seminomadic Libyans, not Graeco-Roman farmers.

Water Resources As amounts of rainfall in the region are seasonal and typically modest, the larger cities of the Cyrenaica had a continual need to provide sufficient water for their citizens (Lloyd and Lewis 1977). If there were no good wells in the area, cisterns and sometimes aqueducts had to be constructed. Several surveys have traced lines of aqueducts that ran along the coast from Darna to Ptolemais (Arthur and Bazama 1975). How much water these aqueducts could have provided is uncertain (Duncan-Jones 1978). The aqueduct at Ptolemais, for example, is a small construction in comparison to the large network of cisterns beneath the city’s “Square of the Cisterns.”

Communications: Harbors and Roads In antiquity, the Cyrenaica mainly depended on the sea to connect it to the eastern Mediterranean basin. Travel to the East was facilitated by the prevailing counterclockwise sea currents of the eastern Mediterranean, favoring sailing routes heading north and east. Along the deeply indented coast of the central section of Cyrenaica, there are many good natural harbors that could be used for the ancient sailing practice of cabotage (Stone 2014). These harbors were often linked to inland farming centers on the middle and upper plateaus of the Gebel al Akhdar. Recent underwater surveys of the coastline have revealed the now-submerged port facilities at Apollonia and Ptolemais, as well as two previously unknown harbors at Zawiet el Hamama and Zawiet el Haniya, lying below the escarpment sites of Balagrae and Messa, respectively (Beltrame 2012). The connection between inland towns and the sea remained important throughout antiquity and often dictated the paths of communication routes. Typically, settlements near ports were more densely populated than those located inland. The Cyrenaica’s system of road networks began to be laid out at the time of the first Greek settlements and were expanded and maintained throughout the Roman period. They served to link agricultural settlements and to expedite the transport of grain, a major export in the Hellenistic and Roman periods, from the upper stages of the Gebel to the coast. Some ancient roads are still visible in places, or underlie modern routes. One highway running from Cyrene to Darna via Lamluda can still be followed on the ground for substantial distances. Two types of roads existed in the imperial period: those of official status, marked by milestones, and smaller ones that served the local population. The main routes of communication generally ran through the upper terrace of the Gebel. Only one road in Cyrenaica appears on the “official” route book of the empire, the Peutinger Table. This road formed part of the east–west highway along the North African coast and closely followed the roadbed of the earlier Greek route. Many of the smaller rural roads were created in the imperial period, as settlements expanded into the pre-desert zones. While most official highways ran east–west, these minor roads

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typically followed a north–south direction, oriented along the line of the streams and wadis draining into the Mediterranean. Tombs and necropoleis are prominent features along these roads, located near settlements and crossroads. Intended to impress a passing traveler, these tombs could also serve as markers to help identify specific locations along a route.

Economy and Trade Patterns of connectivity both by sea and land were instrumental in determining not only the development of settlements in the Cyrenaica but also its trade routes and economic relations (Fulford 1989; Quinn 2011; Stone 2014). While data are still very limited, it is clear that agriculture, especially the production of grain, was an important element of the Cyrenaica’s economy (Laronde 1987). Its Mediterranean climate fostered the planting of cereal crops, olive trees, and vines, as well as the breeding of livestock. In antiquity, the area’s rich soil and climate was reputed to enable three harvests a year, one for each of the three successive stages of the Gebel al Akhdar. The production of surplus grain for export made the Cyrenaica prosperous in the Hellenistic and Roman periods. Wine and oil production were also important, as can be seen by the numerous wine and oil presses found in villages and isolated farms throughout the region (Wilson 2004; Menozzi et al. 2014). Whether all of the oil and wine produced was consumed locally or some was exported is still unclear. Evidence also exists for the manufacture of purple dye at Berenice (Wilson and Tébar Megías 2008) and for some fish-related industries along the coast (Hesein 2014). The most famous export from the Cyrenaica was silphium, an enigmatic plant that was indigenous to the area and prized for its pharmaceutical versatility (Amigues 2004). Ancient sources suggest that it grew in the steppe regions of the third stage of the Gebel al Akhdar and could only be gathered, not cultivated. Silphium may have been an important trade item between local Libyan tribes and Graeco-Roman settlers, as it primarily grew on the nonagricultural lands in the upper stage of the Gebel, where the semi-nomadic Libyans lived. In the first century bce, Pliny (Natural History 19.15, 38–40) reported that silphium was worth its weight in silver. Explicit references after this are rare, but there is some evidence to suggest that silphium was extinct by the time of Nero, partly a result of overgathering and partly due to agricultural expansion into the steppe regions in which it grew. The exact identity of silphium remains controversial. Scholars have attempted to identify the exact species from the images of a plant frequently depicted on coins minted in the region. Recently, a group of Italian botanists claim to have rediscovered the plant in the southern steppe region of the Cyrenaica where it was believed to have flourished in antiquity, but this identification remains controversial (Manunta 1996).

History of Exploration and Scholarship Western travelers visited the Cyrenaica in the early eighteenth century. In 1705–1706, Claude Lemaire, the French consul in Tripoli, was the first known Westerner to visit the ruins of Cyrene. Other early visitors included Agostino Cervelli of Pisa, who made a schematic map of Cyrene, and Paolo della Cella from Genoa, who transcribed inscriptions in the Cyrenaica. In 1821– 1822, the Beechey brothers were sent by the British Admiralty to chart the coast of the Cyrenaica. On that trip, they took the opportunity to explore some parts of the interior, including the area around Cyrene. Other travelers in the mid-nineteenth century included



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Jean-Raimond Pacho and Frédéric Müller, H. Barth, who explored the coast of North Africa on his way from Morocco to Egypt in 1845–1847, and James Hamilton, who wrote an account of his travels to the region. The first accurate surveys of the cities of the Cyrenaica were prepared in 1860–1861 by two British military officers, Captain R. M. Smith and Commander E. A. Porcher, who also conducted some “excavations” at Cyrene and shipped their finds to the British Museum in London. The first scientific exploration of Cyrene was conducted in 1910 by Richard Norton on behalf of the Archaeological Institute of America; his expedition ended in 1911, when the Italian army occupied Cyrenaica. In the first half of the twentieth century, an active program of Italian archaeological work was initiated in the Cyrenaica. After World War II, the first Controller of Antiquities was a British archaeologist, Richard Goodchild, who served in that office from 1953 to 1966, under the British protectorate as well as the new Kingdom of Libya. Goodchild conducted a series of landmark surveys, began new excavation projects throughout the Cyrenaica, and was responsible for creating Libya’s modern Department of Antiquities (Reynolds 1976). Starting in the mid-twentieth century until interrupted by the 2011 Libyan Revolution, a number of foreign missions (notably American, British, French, Italian, and Polish) have been actively engaged in work in the Cyrenaica. These projects include excavations, restoration projects, and surveys. The Department of Antiquities has also been active, conducting excavations, survey, rescue, and restoration work. The University of Benghazi and Omar al Mukhtar University in al Beida operate field schools for their students at Taucheira and Balagrae. Many of these activities are chronicled in articles published in journals and monograph series dedicated to Libyan archaeology. These include the Department of Antiquities’ journal Libya Antiqua, the Italian journal Quaderni di archeologia della Libia and the Monografie di archeologia libica series, and the British Society for Libyan Studies’ journal Libyan Studies and its related monograph series. From the 1960s to 1980s, a series of synthetic overviews in English on work conducted in the Cyrenaica were published (Vickers and Reynolds 1971–1972; Goodchild, Pedley, and White 1976; Humphrey 1980; Ejteily 1983; Lloyd 1989). There are also a number of historical accounts of archaeological work conducted by the Italians during their colonial occupation (Altekamp 2004; Munzi 2004). Short essays and bibliographies on the cities of the Pentapolis may be found in the Princeton Encyclopedia of Classical Sites (Stillwell, MacDonald, and McAlister 1976) and The Encyclopedia of Ancient History (Bagnall et al. 2012). Accounts of the region’s history are published in the Cambridge Ancient History (Reynolds and Lloyd 1996; Reynolds 2000). An excellent guidebook on the Cyrenaica was recently published by the Society for Libyan Studies (Kendrick and Buzaian 2013).

Cities of the Pentapolis It is perhaps an irony of recent history that the detailed topography of the Tripolitanian hinterland has received so much attention, while the obvious remains of the ancient countryside in Cyrenaica have remained almost neglected…. The time is now long overdue for a major field survey of the area, which should be comprehensive both geographically and archaeologically. (Jones and Little 1971)

Since these words were written, the topographic landscape of the Cyrenaica has been better documented, with new survey work (on land and underwater) and modern excavations being undertaken at all five cities of the Pentapolis by both foreign and Libyan archaeologists. Many of these excavations incorporate restoration and increasingly employ a range of interdisciplinary

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methods, including paleoenvironmental analyses, remote sensing, and GIS, to answer questions about the ancient landscape and environment.

Cyrene (Shahat) The modern town of Shahat overlies the northeast part of the ancient site of Cyrene, so the full extent of the ancient city is still unknown. Cyrene’s main urban center was situated on two hills and enclosed in part by defensive circuit walls. Three roads running through Cyrene connected it to overland routes leading to the neighboring settlements of Apollonia, Balagrae, Darna, and Lasamices (Slonta). The Valley Road follows the sloping valley between the two hills into the Sanctuary of Apollo with its monumental entrance, temples, altars, fountains, theater, and Roman-period baths. The second road, named after the city’s first king, Battus, connects the still unexcavated acropolis zone with the city gymnasium and Roman-period Forum. The third road crosses the main axis of the city east of the Forum. At its intersection with the Valley Road were more temples, a basilica, and a series of important Roman-period urban villas. In the northeast corner of the walled city is the impressive Doric Temple of Zeus and the city’s still unexcavated circus or hippodrome. Excavations over the past century have mainly provided information about the city’s plan (its major outlines were likely laid out at the time of founding, in the Archaic period) and individual buildings of the Hellenistic and Roman eras, particularly in the Agora and Sanctuary of Apollo (Stucchi 1975; White 1981; Bonacasa and Ensoli 2000; Luni 2014). Until recently, little of the earlier history of the city had been revealed, but new excavations beneath the Graeco-Roman levels in the Agora have uncovered evidence of pre-Greek occupation, proof that Libyans were in the area before the Greeks arrived (Luni 2010). Recent excavations in the Wadi bel Gadir, just outside the city walls southwest of the Agora, have revealed a major complex of sanctuaries, including a propylon, two temples, a theater, and a walled sanctuary precinct, some parts of which were constructed in the first phase of the city’s development (Kane and White 2007; Luni 2014). These sacred areas connected to the still unexplored southeastern suburbs and necropoleis that extended along the main road leading from Cyrene to Balagrae (modern al Beida). Cyrene suffered considerable damage in the Jewish Revolt of 115–117 ce. Reconstruction of the city was financed in part by Hadrian, but one notable destruction – the toppling of the peristyle of the Temple of Zeus – was not repaired at the time. The peristyle was only re-erected in the late twentieth century under a project financed by the Italian government. After the conflict, a number of new settlers, including Roman legionary veterans, were sent to Cyrene. By the late Antonine era, Cyrene was largely a restored and modestly prosperous city that exhibited a number of Roman influences: the conversion of a theater in the Apollo Sanctuary into an amphitheater (possibly due to the interests of the new Roman settlers); a colonnaded street; a triumphal arch; and a podium for the repaired Temple of Zeus. But other elements reasserted the city’s traditional claim to Greek origins: the use of the Doric dialect for public inscriptions (a link to their colonial founders Sparta and Thera) and sculptures and reliefs that depicted the mythical founding of the city by a Greek nymph, Cyrene. Cyrene also became a member of the Panhellenic League, a congress of Greek cities instituted by Hadrian to exalt the old traditions of Hellenic civilization and culture and to promote eastern unity. The necropoleis surrounding the city of Cyrene are extensive, with thousands of well-­ articulated rock-cut and free-standing tombs and sarcophagi lining the roads and wadis leading out of the city, especially to the north, south, and west (Thorn 2005). The tombs are often located near the quarries from which their stone was extracted. In the countryside, tombs are typically sited near rural settlements or sanctuaries, or at crossroads.



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Apollonia Apollonia was probably founded as early as ca. 631 bce, to serve as the main port for Cyrene. By Roman times, it was recognized as one of the five cities of the Libyan Pentapolis, and in the sixth century it succeeded Ptolemais as the capital of the province of Libya Superior. Due to subsidence, coastal erosion, and rising sea level – phenomena that may have already begun in late antiquity – some areas of the ancient city and its outer and inner harbor facilities have almost completely disappeared beneath the sea. The original town may have included a third more territory than it does at present. The city’s defensive walls, built in the late Hellenistic period and strengthened by the Byzantines, are well preserved. A Greek theater lies just outside the eastern walls, but the city’s other principal buildings are mainly of Roman or Byzantine construction. These include a Roman bath complex, residential insulae, the so-called Palace of the Dux, a warehouse district, and three churches: West, Central, and East. Another church and a Greek Doric temple are located outside the city. Several phases of excavation have taken place in Apollonia since the early twentieth century: first by Italians in the 1920s–1930s; a second after the Second World War, under the British protectorate and the Libyan Department of Antiquities; and a third phase in the late twentieth century, with work conducted by American and French archaeological missions (Goodchild, Pedley, and White 1976; Laronde 1985). In 1965–1967, the main fortification system of the city was documented, with excavations at the main gate and a round tower within the city walls. Recent excavations in an area between the lower town and acropolis have uncovered evidence for religious, domestic, and industrial usage from the Classical through Islamic periods. This area is known as Kallikrateia, from inscriptions with the phrase “of Kallikrateia” found there. The sanctuary associated with these inscriptions was partly built into a quarry, and a range of votives dedicated to multiple deities, dating from the fourth century bce onward, were deposited there. A series of rock-cut altars and possible dining areas were also associated with the sanctuary (Michel 2012). Several campaigns of exploration of the submerged parts of harbor and city have been conducted. The first, in 1957, was one of the earliest underwater archaeological explorations ever undertaken, followed by two others in 1958 and 1959 (Flemming 1965). In 1986–1987 two Roman wrecks were discovered in the harbor, and one of them, dating to the second century bce, was excavated (Laronde and Sintès 1998). More recently, there has been a study of the harbor’s ship sheds (Sintès 2010).

Ptolemais (Tolmeita) The city of Ptolemais, founded by Greeks as an unnamed port in the late seventh century bce, is located midway on the coast between modern Benghazi and Susa, where an easy pass ascends the Gebel al Akhdar toward Cyrene. The site later controlled the line of the Roman road to Cyrene. Subsequently referred to as Barka, the city was re-founded as Ptolemais by either Ptolemy I or III in the Hellenistic period. It flourished in the early Roman period and achieved yet higher prominence in the early fourth century, when it became capital of the new province of Libya Superior/Pentapolis under Diocletian. The city was initially laid out with a very large set of circuit walls that ultimately proved to be indefensible. In the late Roman period, these walls were dismantled and replaced by a series of individual forts built from reused materials. The Hellenistic city had an orthogonal grid plan with major streets running north–south and a main east–west avenue that eventually received a triumphal arch and portico at its end. Several well preserved insulae contain peristyle houses, often richly decorated with frescoes and mosaic floors. One of the most elaborate of these is the “Palazzo delle Colonne,” a pre-Roman structure with a large pillared court that was remodeled in the first century ce (Kraeling 1962). The city also had several Roman and Byzantine baths,

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an amphitheater, a hippodrome, and three theaters. The smallest theater, an odeon, was adapted sometime in the fourth or fifth century to hold water spectacles. A fortified Christian basilica and a late antique building are referred to as “the Fortress of the Dux.” Ptolemais lacked nearby water sources, so its supply depended on cisterns and an aqueduct that carried water from a spring about 8 km east of the city. The size and number of the city’s public cisterns and reservoirs are impressive. One group of seventeen vaulted cisterns under the Roman “Square of the Cisterns” had a capacity of 7,000 kl. Such energy devoted to ensuring an adequate water supply underscores the importance the city attached to its position near a good harbor. The harbor was on the eastern side of the city, aligned with the main avenue. An ancient lighthouse was positioned on a promontory near the harbor, underneath the present one. A 2009 survey also discovered a submerged pier and a shipwreck – only the third one to be discovered on the Cyrenaican coast, the others having being found in the harbor at Apollonia (Beltrame 2012). Ptolemais was visited by western explorers in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Systematic excavations began in the twentieth century, with American and British work concentrating on large structures within the city walls (Kraeling 1962). Since 2000, a Polish team using remote sensing and geophysical prospection has created a new plan of the city and its surroundings (Jaworski 2012). Their excavations have focused on an insula near the “Palazzo delle Colonne,” where they uncovered a richly decorated peristyle house of third century date.

Taucheira/Arsinoe (Tocra) Taucheira, another city of the Libyan Pentapolis, is located on the coast between Berenice and Ptolemais. Like Apollonia, it is said to have been founded by Cyrene. Excavations in an area near the sea uncovered deposits associated with a Sanctuary of Demeter and Persephone dating from the seventh century bce onward, confirming that the city was founded not long after Cyrene. In the Hellenistic period, the city was renamed Arsinoe to honor the wife of one of the Ptolemies, but its original Libyan name, Taucheira, was used again in the Roman period. The lands surrounding the city are fertile and supplied with many good local wells. Such reliable sources of water are an important reason why Taucheira was chosen to be the last stronghold of the Byzantines in the Cyrenaica. Excavations have been conducted on this site since 1939 by teams of Italian, British, and Libyan archaeologists (Buzaian 2000). The most prominent remains of ancient Taucheira are its defensive walls, first built in the Hellenistic period and remodeled subsequently. The main circuit follows the line of the Hellenistic walls, but they were reinforced and many of the rectangular towers added when the city was used by the Byzantines to make their last stand against the Islamic invaders in 642–645 ce. Inland, the walls can still be several meters high in places, but near the coastline they have almost entirely vanished due to the erosive action of the sea. Hellenistic Taucheira had a grid plan with a main avenue running between the city’s east and west gates. The city’s insulae do not lie in regular, straight rows, but are staggered, possibly to provide shelter from the winds coming from the sea. Most of the standing remains date to the Roman, Byzantine or early Islamic periods. A large Turco-Italian fort is built into ancient quarries on the northeast side of the city. Underwater explorations have shown that the city had an artificial harbor with two quays and a mole.

Euesperides/Berenice (Sidi Khrebish) Euesperides, the westernmost city of the Pentapolis, is situated on a low hill in a marshy area near the present inner harbor of Benghazi. The site has been disturbed by its use as a Moslem cemetery and by modern Benghazi’s encroachment. Euesperides was founded by Cyrene



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early in the sixth century bce and remained closely linked to it until the mid-third century bce, when it was abruptly abandoned. It was replaced by a new city, named Berenice in honor of the wife of Ptolemy III, sited on the coast a little to the southwest. Reasons for the change of location are still unclear, and may include the silting-up of Euesperides’ harbor, or the fact that the city took the wrong side in the civil conflict that followed the death of Magas in 258 or 250 bce. Air photographs taken in World War II revealed much of the plan of ancient Euesperides. Several campaigns of excavations showed that the site was occupied from the late seventh into the mid-third century bce, although many of its stratigraphic levels were damaged by modern construction. A wide range of imported pottery found in the later levels of the city indicated trading connections, and a quantity of murex shells gave evidence for the production of purple dye, possibly for export (Gill 2004; Wilson and Tébar Megías 2008). The city of Berenice was founded on the coast at Sidi Khrebish sometime in the middle of the third century bce. On its south side is a shallow inlet or lagoon that served as a harbor. The earliest buildings belong to the time of its founding, but the city underwent several modifications between the third and mid-first centuries bce. In the late first to early second century ce it was provided with a regular grid plan and a new drainage system. Rescue excavations of Berenice were carried out in the 1970s by the Libyan Department of Antiquities, in collaboration with the Society for Libyan Studies (Lloyd 1977–1985). Part of the city’s late defensive walls were uncovered, as well as a group of private houses aligned to a main road in the city’s remodeled sector.

The Countryside Settlements The best agricultural land in the Cyrenaica is located on the two upper terraces of the Gebel al Akhdar, where extensive remains of rural settlement have been documented. Laronde’s (1986) pioneering survey of sites and analysis of communication routes in the central and eastern parts of the Gebel Akhdar has been enhanced by a number of recent surveys (Menozzi and Fossataro 2010; Hulin et al. 2010) that provide new details on the organization of rural settlements. These reveal a pattern of regularly distributed villages located at intervals along the main road networks, often at the crossroads linking east–west and north–south routes. Larger village sites appear to have been founded first, with smaller, often fortified, farms subsequently filling in the areas between them (Laronde 1987; Menozzi et al. 2014). The villages were likely gathering places for these numerous smaller settlements and farms. Mgernes, first settled in the Classical or Hellenistic period, is a typical example of one of these rural villlages. It expanded in size in the later Roman period, with the addition of a bath complex, a fortified palace, and two basilicas (Stucchi 1975). A second village, Giubbra, has a similar history, also becoming more prosperous in the Roman period. The village contained numerous presses for oil or wine and house courtyards featuring large storage tanks. Lamluda, east of Cyrene, is perhaps the most impressive “urbanized” village in the Cyrenaica (Stucchi 1975; Menozzi and Fossataro 2010; Menozzi et al. 2014). The original Hellenistic settlement was reorganised and fortified in the Roman period, with a series of public buildings placed along a main street. There are remains of two churches, a Byzantine bath, and numerous cisterns. Over fifty oil presses are visible, a good indication that this was a prosperous agricultural settlement, some of whose production may have been intended for export (Wilson 2004). A number of fortified farms were located on low hilltops adjacent to farmed wadis or on easily defensible spurs of the escarpment. These typically included a dwelling with a

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courtyard enclosed by a wall, a number of oil or wine presses, and a tower that may have served as a place of refuge for the inhabitants as well as for storage (Laronde 1987; Mattingly 1994). To the west and east of this upland central area, the pre-desert steppe begins, where conditions are not quite so favorable for settlement. Recent work by the Western Marmarica Coastal Survey (Hulin et al. 2010), between Darna and Tobruk, has shown that the level of habitation in these semi-arid areas can be a sensitive indicator of the economic and political health of the region. In uncertain times, when governance and security were weak, there were fewer settlements in these areas. Sites located closest to the coast seem to have been best able to persist into the late Roman period. This survey has documented the existence of many small farms, often located along the wadis that run to the sea, connecting them more easily to the coast than to each other. This network pattern seems to have changed in the late Roman period, with the emergence of two larger settlements on the coast that may have served as hubs for more than one wadi. The presence of pre-Islamic burials on abandoned late Roman sites suggests a marked shift away from settled farming to a pastoral-nomadic way of life in the later period.

Rural Sanctuaries Many extra-urban sanctuaries and small shrines are located in the countryside of the Cyrenaica. Such places served not only to mark the political and cultural boundaries between the cities and the surrounding chora but also as meeting places for exchanges between Graeco-Roman settlers and local Libyan tribes (Reynolds 1987; Kane 1998; Menozzi 2015). Typically dedicated to chthonic cults, these sacred places are often rupestrian and associated with springs. In their forms of architecture, votive offerings, and dedicatory inscriptions, they show evidence for the mingling of Graeco-Roman and Libyan cult practices (Menozzi 2015). The sanctuary of Budrag, situated close to the city of Cyrene, had two main rocky cult chambers and other minor niches carved with reliefs and dedicatory inscriptions in Greek to “the goddesses” and “the gods.” Sometimes a necropolis is located near a sanctuary, as is the case at Ain Hofra, a wadi just east of Cyrene. Sanctuaries located farther out in the countryside show stronger Libyan influences. For example, at Martuba, the shrine appears to have been dedicated to a Libyan version of the goddess Isis (Menozzi 2015). At Slonta (ancient Lasamices), south of Cyrene, the walls of a cave shrine were carved with reliefs employing Graeco-Roman iconography to depict the rituals of a Libyan chthonic/ancestral cult (Luni 1987).

The Limes and Fortifications The Cyrenaica offers few natural barriers along which continuous fortifications could be developed. In the Roman period, a system of defense was organized similar to the line of forts (limes) of Tripolitania or eastern Syria (Mattingly 1994). This defensive system included an inner zone of forts located in the area of densest agricultural settlement, running along the main road between Ptolemais, Cyrene, and Darna. Most of these forts were probably defended by the farmers and local militia. South of this inner zone, another line was built at the outer limits of ancient agricultural expansion. Forts located on this outer line controlled access to the plateau along the beds of seasonal streams that drained into the Gebel al Akhdar. Additional posts at watering points in the interior were sited to maintain surveillance of the seminomadic population. A line of



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cisterns, now largely collapsed, can also be seen outside this zone; these may have been built to provide reliable watering points for travelers moving between the agricultural zone and the southern desert fringe.

Conclusion During the Graeco-Roman period, the Cyrenaica, a fertile “island” among surrounding wastelands on the North African coast, maintained close cultural and trade connections with the eastern Mediterranean basin through its numerous small harbors that were linked to inland farming centers. Through intermarriage and cultural interchanges, the indigenous Libyan population and the Greeks and Romans who settled in the region over time created a distinctive hybrid culture, reflective of the many ethnicities that made up the local social fabric. The region’s connectivity to the outside world via sea trade declined in the late antique period. In the fourth century ce, Synesius of Cyrene (Letter 148) wrote to a friend that some people living inland in the Cyrenaica did not even know what fish were. His comments are a wistful reflection on the fact that during his time, the Cyrenaica was becoming more and more isolated from the Mediterranean world, due partly to a series of devastating earthquakes and invasions by semi-nomadic tribes from the south and partly to the Cyrenaica’s increasingly fringe position in a decaying empire.

Biographical Note Susan Kane is the Mildred C. Jay Professor Emerita of Art History at Oberlin College. She is director of the Cyrenaica Archaeological Project (Cyrene, Libya) and the Sangr Valley Project (Abruzzo, Italy). Her research interests include landscape archaeology, Greek and Roman sculpture, Italic architectural terracottas, and the study of white marble in the ancient Mediterranean.

REFERENCES Altekamp, Stefan. 2004. “Italian Colonial Archaeology in Libya 1912–1942.” In Archaeology Under Dictatorship, edited by Michael L. Galaty and Charles Watkinson, 55–72. New York: Kluwer/Plenum. Amigues, Suzanne. 2004. “Le silphium - État de la question.” Journal des savants, 2: 191–226. Applebaum, Shim’on. 1979. Jews and Greeks in Ancient Cyrene. Studies in Judaism in Late Antiquity 28. Leiden: Brill. Arthur, Chris, and Abdulsalam Bazama. 1975. “The aqueduct of Ptolemais.” Libya Antiqua, 11–12: 243–249. Bagnall, Roger, Kai Brodersen, Craig Champion, Andrew Erskine, and Sabine Huebner, eds. 2012. The Encyclopedia of Ancient History. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell. Beltrame, Carlo. 2012. “New Evidence for the Submerged Ancient Harbour Structures at Tolmetha and Leptis Magna, Libya.” International Journal of Nautical Archaeology, 41, no. 2: 315–326. Beschi, Luigi. 1972. “Divinità funerarie cirenaiche.” Annuario della Scuola Archeologica di Atene, 47–48, n.s. 31–32 (1969–1970): 133–341. Bonacasa, Nicola, and Serena Ensoli, eds. 2000. Cirene: Centri e monumenti dell’Antichità. Milan: Mondadori Electa. Buzaian, Ahmed. 2000. “Excavations at Tocra (1985–1992).” Libyan Studies, 31: 59–102. Cherstich, Luca. 2011. “The Changing Funerary World of Roman Cyrene.” Libyan Studies, 42: 33–46.

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Duncan-Jones, Richard P. 1978. “Aqueduct Capacity and City Population.” Libyan Studies, 9: 51. Ejteily, Brayek A. 1983. “North African Newsletter 3: Part 2. Cyrenaica 1972–1980: Work Done by the Department of Antiquities at Shahat (Cyrene).” American Journal of Archaeology, 87: 207–208. Flemming, Nicholas. 1965. “Apollonia.” In Marine Archaeology: Developments during Sixty Years in the Mediterranean, edited by Joan Du Plat Taylor, 168–178. London: Hutchinson. Fulford, Michael. 1989. “To East and West: The Mediterranean Trade of Cyrenaica and Tripolitania in Antiquity.” Libyan Studies, 20: 169–191. Gill, David. 2004. “Euesperides: Cyrenaica and its Contacts with the Outside World.” In Greek Identity in the Western Mediterranean: Papers in Honour of Brian Shefton, edited by Kathryn Lomas, 391–409, Mnemosyne Supplementa 246. Leiden: Brill. Goodchild, Richard G., John Griffiths Pedley, and Donald White, eds. 1976. Apollonia, The Port of Cyrene: Excavations by the University of Michigan 1965–1967. Supplements to Libya Antiqua 4. Tripoli: Department of Antiquities. Hesein, Mohamed A. 2014. “Ancient Marine Resource Exploitation in the Coastal Strip of Cyrenaica: Some Evidence of Fish-related Industry in Cyrenaica?” In Fish and Ships: Production et commerce des salsamenta durant l’Antiquité. Actes de l’atelier doctoral, Rome (18–22 juin 2012), edited by Emmanuel Botte and Victoria Leitch, 129–142, Bibliothèque d’archéologie méditerranéenne et africaine 17. Aixen-Provence: Centre Camille Jullian. Horden, Peregrine, and Nicholas Purcell. 2000. The Corrupting Sea: A Study of Mediterranean History. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing. Hulin, Linda, Jane Timby, Ahmed M. Muftah, and Giuseppina Mutri. 2010. “Western Marmarica Coastal Survey 2010: Preliminary Report.” Libyan Studies, 41: 155–162. Humphrey, John. 1980. “North African News Letter 2.” American Journal of Archaeology, 84: 75–87. Inscriptions of Roman Cyrenaica. 2021. “Home.” Accessed May 24 2021. https://ircyr2020.inslib.kcl. ac.uk/en Jaworski, Piotr. 2012. “Bibliography of Polish Archaeological Research in Cyrenaica.” In Ptolemais in Cyrenaica. Studies in memory of Tomasz Mikocki, edited by Jerzy Żelazowski, 413–419. Warsaw: Institute of Archaeology, University of Warsaw. Johnson, Douglas L. 1973. Jabal al-Akhdar, Cyrenaica: An Historical Geography of Settlement and Livelihood. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Jones, G. D. B. and J. H. Little. 1971. “Coastal settlement in Cyrenaica.” Journal of Roman Studies, 61: 64–79. Kane, Susan. 1998. “Cultic Implications of Sculpture from the Wadi bel Gadir Sanctuary of Demeter and Persephone at Cyrene.” In La Cirenaica in età antica: Atti del convegno internazionale di studi (Macerata, 18–20 maggio 1995), edited by Enzo Catani and Silvia Maria Marengo, 289–300. Macerata: Universita degli studi di Macerata. Kane, Susan, and Donald White. 2007. “Recent Developments in Cyrene’s Chora South of the Wadi bel Gadir.” Libyan Studies, 38: 39–52. Kendrick, Philip M., and Ahmed Buzaian. 2013. Libyan Archaeological Guides: Cyrenaica. London: Society for Libyan Studies/Silphium Press. Kraeling, Carl H. 1962. Ptolemais, City of the Libyan Pentapolis. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Laronde, André. 1985. “Apollonia de Cyrénaique et son histoire: neuf ans de recherches de la mission archéologique francaise en Libye.” Comptes rendus des séances de l’Académie des inscriptions et belleslettres, 85: 102–115. Laronde, André. 1986. “Roman Agricultural Development in Libya and its Impact on the Libyan Roman Economy before the Arab Conquest.” In Libya Antiqua, The General History of Africa: Studies and Documents 11, Report and Papers of the Symposium Organized by UNESCO in Paris, 16 to 18 January 1984, 13–22. Paris: UNESCO. Laronde, André. 1987. Cyrène et la Libye hellénistique. Libykai historiai de l’époque républicaine au principat d’Auguste. Études d’Antiquités africaines. Paris: Editions du Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique. Laronde, André, and Claude Sintès. 1998. “Recherches récentes dans le port d’Apollonia.” In La Cirenaica in età antica. Atti del convegno internazionale di studi, Macerata 18–20 maggio 1995, edited by Enzo Catani and Silvia Maria Marengo, 301–310. Pisa: Istituti editoriali e poligrafici internazionali.



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Lloyd, John Alfred, ed. 1977–1985. Sidi Khrebish. Excavations at Sidi Khrebish Benghazi (Berenice), 4 vols. vols. Libya Antiqua supplement 5. Tripoli: Department of Antiquities; London: Society for Libyan Studies. Lloyd, John Alfred. 1989. “Urban Archaeology in Cyrenaica 1969–1989: The Hellenistic, Roman and Byzantine periods.” Libyan Studies, 20: 77–90. Lloyd, J. A., and P. R. Lewis. 1977. “Water supply and urban population in Roman Cyrenaica.” Libyan Studies, 8: 35–40. Luni, Mario. 1987. “Il santuario rupestre libyco delle Immagini a Slonta (Cirenaica).” Quaderni di archeologia della Libia, 12: 415–458. Luni, Mario, ed. 2010. Cirene e la Cirenaica nell’antichità. Cirene “Atene d’Africa” 3. Monografie di Archeologia Libica 30. Rome: L’Erma di Bretschneider. Luni, Mario, ed. 2014. La scoperta di Cirene. Un secolo di scavi 1913–2013 Cirene “Atene d’Africa” 8. Monografie di Archeologia Libica 37. Rome: L’Erma di Bretschneider. Manunta, Antonio. 1996. “Il ‘silfio cirenaico’ è la Cachrys ferulacea (L.). Calestani ancora presente nella flora cirenaica” In Scritti di Antichità in memoria di Sandro Stucchi, edited by Lidiano Bacchielli and Margherita Aravantinos, Vol. I, 211–218, Studi Miscellanei 29. Rome: L’Erma di Bretschneider. Mattingly, David. 1994. “Mapping Ancient Libya.” Libyan Studies, 25: 1–5. Menozzi, Oliva. 2015. “Extramural Rock-Cut Sanctuaries in the Territory of Cyrene.” Libyan Studies, 46: 57–74. Menozzi, Oliva, Sonia Antonelli, Angela Cinalli, Maria Cristina Mancini, and Silvano Agostini. 2014. “Lamluda: From the Excavation to the Archaeometric Analysis.” Libyan Studies, 45: 65–83. Menozzi, Oliva, and Domenico Fossataro. 2010. “Field Survey, GIS and Excavations in the Territory of Cyrene and at Lamluda. Interim report of Chieti University.” Libya Antiqua, 5: 157–172. Michel, Vincent. 2012. “L’activité récente de la Mission archéologique française de Libye pour l’antiquité.” In For the Preservation of the Cultural Heritage in Libya: A Dialogue among Institutions. Proceedings of Conference, 1–2 July 2011, Monumental Complex of Belvedere, San Leucio, Caserta. Kypana, 1. Libya in the Ancient World, edited by Serenella Ensoli, 93–103. Pisa: Fabrizio Serra. Munzi, Massimiliano. 2004. “Italian Archaeology in Libya: From Colonial Romanità to Decolonization of the Past.” In Archaeology Under Dictatorship, edited by Michael L. Galaty and Charles Watkinson, 73– 107. New York: Kluwer/Plenum. Quinn, Josephine Crawley. 2011. “The Syrtes between East and West.” In Money, Trade and Trade Routes in Pre-Islamic North Africa, edited by Amelia Dowler and Elizabeth R. Galvin, 11–20. London: British Museum Press. Reynolds, Joyce, ed. 1976. Libyan Studies: Select Papers of the Late R.G. Goodchild. London: Paul Elek. Reynolds, Joyce. 1987. “Libyans and Greeks in Rural Cyrenaica.” Quaderni di archeologia della Libya, 12: 379–383. Reynolds, Joyce. 2000. “Cyrenaica.” In The Cambridge Ancient History, Volume 11, The High Empire, AD 70–192, edited by Alan K. Bowman, Peter Garnsey, and Dominic Rathbone, 547–558. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. DOI:10.1017/CHOL9780521263351.018. Reynolds, Joyce, and Lidiano Bacchielli. 1987. “Catalogo delle stele funerary antropomorfe.” Quaderni di archeologia della Libya, 12: 489–522. Reynolds, Joyce, and J. A. Lloyd. 1996. “Cyrene.” In The Cambridge Ancient History, Volume 10, The Augustan Empire, 43 BC–AD 69, edited by Alan K. Bowman, Edward Champlin, and Andrew Lintott, 619–640. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. DOI:10.1017/CHOL9780521264303.023. Sintès, Claude. 2010. “Les neosoikoi d’Apollonia de Cyrénaique.” In Ricoveri per navi militari nei porti del Mediterraneo antico e medievale, edited by David J. Blackman and Maria Costanza Lentini, 83–96. Bari: Edipuglia. Stillwell, Richard, William L. MacDonald, and Marian Holland McAlister, eds. 1976. The Princeton Encyclopedia of Classical Sites. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Stone, David L. 2014. “Africa in the Roman Empire: Connectivity, The Economy, and Artificial Port Structures.” American Journal of Archaeology, 118: 565–600. Stucchi, Sandro. 1975. Architettura Cirenaica. Monografie di Archeologia Libica 9. Rome: L’Erma di Bretschneider.

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CHAPTER 33

Africa/Numidia/Mauretania David J. Mattingly

Historical Summary One of the problems facing an anglophone student of ancient North Africa is the relative lack of historical and archaeological syntheses in English. The classic studies are in French (see, e.g., Gsell 1918–1929; Le Bohec 2005; Lassère 2015) or Italian (Romanelli 1959), with the available English alternatives either second-rate (MacKendrick 1980), very out of date (Mokhtar 1981; Raven 1993), regionally focused (Fentress 1979; Mattingly 1995), or short summaries (Quinn 2009). Nonetheless, there is now quite a lot of excellent material published for English readers interested in studying this fascinating region. Cartographic sources with accompanying gazetteers include the coverage in the Barrington Atlas (Talbert 2000) and an updated French map, focused on the road network and principal sites along them (Desanges et al. 2010). The southern provinces of the Roman Empire from the Atlantic seaboard to the Libyan gulf of Syrtes were created across two centuries starting in the great phase of Rome’s Mediterranean expansionism in the second and first centuries bce (Figure 33.1). The defeat of Carthage in the Third Punic War led to the annexation of a province of Africa, largely related to Carthaginian territory in what is today Tunisia. To the west and south was territory controlled by an indigenous Numidian kingdom. When the Numidian king Juba I picked the Pompeian side in the Civil War, his kingdom was forfeit after Caesar’s crushing victory at Thapsus in 46 bce. Thenceforth there was an enlarged African territory, initially divided between Africa Vetus and Africa Nova, extending into eastern Algeria and along the western Libyan coast. To the west of the province a substantial Mauretanian kingdom was conferred on a Roman-educated son of Juba, Juba II, who was married off to the daughter of Cleopatra and Mark Antony. From this point, the Mauretanian client kingdom, corresponding to western Algeria and northern Morocco, started to develop on a path of convergence with Rome (Colletani-Trannoy 1997). Under Augustus, the territory of the African provinces was expanded further by aggressive campaigning, attested by a sequence of triumphs ex Africa.

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 2, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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Figure 33.1  The Roman provinces of Africa, Numidia and Mauretania, shown in relation to the modern political boundaries of the Maghreb. By David J. Mattingly, from Mattingly 2016, 12.

These actions seem to have extended Roman territorial interests toward the Aures mountains in eastern Algeria and the zone of oases that lay around a series of major inland salt lakes (chotts) and along the northern margins of extensive sand seas. In 19 bce, the proconsul Cornelius Balbus penetrated far south to the land of the Garamantes, with a subsidiary action against the southern Algerian oases. While these territories were not immediately annexed, Rome’s African province was from this point inextricably engaged with the people of the desert zone, generally described as Gaetuli in the sources. Although notionally a senatorial province, imperially nominated legates were sometimes deployed at times when military action was needed, and this process was eventually regularized by a division of responsibilities between a civil proconsul based at Carthage and a military legate in command of the sole legion left in the province, the III Augusta. The Mauretanian client kingdom endured until 39 ce, when Caligula had Juba II’s son Ptolemy killed, provoking serious armed resistance to Roman annexation that continued under Claudius until at least 42 ce. Because of the difficulties of the land route, the Mauretanian kingdom was effectively split into two sections under separate administrations, Mauretania Caesariensis to the east and Mauretania Tingitana in the west (effectively limited to the northern tip of Morocco, delimited by the mountainous terrain of the Rif to the east and the Atlas ranges to the south). Both these provinces were imperial territories governed by procurators with military responsibilities for a garrison of auxiliary units. By the reign of Hadrian, the legion III Augusta had its main base at the site of Lambaesis in the upland Aures plain in central Algeria. The presence of the legate and legion led to the development of a large town alongside the fortress, and by the early third century the frontier region as a whole seems to have been reconstituted as a separate province called Numidia. As happened in many other regions, there were further subdivisions of the African provinces by the late third or fourth century ce: Africa Proconsularis separated into Zeugitana to the north and Byzacena to the south; Numidia was split into Tripolitania (corresponding to northwestern Libya and southeastern Tunisia), Numidia Cirtensis, and Numidia Militiana. The



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eastern part of Mauretania Caesariensis also seems to have been recognized as a separate province, Mauretania Sitifiensis, at this time. The province of Africa Proconsularis (and its successors) was notable for its density of urban development, its agricultural production, its wealth (reflected in monumental building schemes at many sites and in rich elite houses lavishly ornamented with polychrome mosaics and marble), and in the impressive evidence of the uptake of Christianity. The region produced many senators and equestrians, and a handful of emperors. The Mauretanian provinces were less illustrious in terms of their history and more military in their overall character, but not without highpoints – as indicated by the imposing remains of Iol Caesarea and its environs (Leveau 1984) or in the amount of fine bronze statuary recovered from some cities in Tingitana. The late history of Africa was largely one of strong continuities beneath a series of major political upheavals. The 429–455 ce Vandal conquest of North Africa led to the creation of a kingdom centered on Zeugitana, but with some continuing influence over and control of more outlying areas, like Byzacena and Tripolitania, the Aures, and the Mauretanian territories. There, independent Moorish kingdoms once again began to spring up, with whom the Vandals were periodically at war (Merrills 2004; Merrills and Miles 2009). The Byzantine reconquest in 533 ce swiftly led from war against the Vandals to repeated insurrections of Moorish and Libyan ethnic groups (Pringle 1981). The Arab invasions in the 640s ce mirrored the Vandal invasion for their relative speed, albeit this time coming from the east rather than the west and – with the exception of Carthage, which held out until 699 – relatively rapidly ended any semblance of continuing Roman government (Fenwick 2013). For the most part, this chapter focuses on Africa before 300 ce, while acknowledging the importance of its Christian and late antique phases (Shaw 2011; Conant 2012).

Historiographical Background While the study of Roman provincial archaeology operates on a fairly conservative model across most parts of the Roman Empire (and is much in need of reform and reinvigoration – see Mattingly 2011a), the historiography of the African provinces is particularly problematic. The baleful influence of the modern colonial regimes on the archaeological agenda in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries is understandable in the political context of those times, but its continuing and largely unquestioned authority to the present day is surprising and ultimately detrimental to the study of the Roman past. The colonial projects of the French in Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia and of the Italians in Libya drew on the Roman Empire for inspiration and explicit comparison. The activities of epigraphers and Roman archaeologists were tightly bound up with the administrative structures of the modern colonies, with army personnel and government officials often taking a leading role in recording inscriptions, mapping the landscape (including the abundant ancient ruins), and excavating sites. Funding for major excavations, especially of the principal ancient cities, was seen as a necessary part of the rediscovery and presentation of the achievements of an earlier phase of European imperialism. The modern colonial discourse thus created a specific narrative of the Romans’ transformation of Africa and assigned a fundamentally passive role to the indigenous population in the success story of Roman Africa. I have argued elsewhere that this also had the effect of alienating the modern indigenous inhabitants (Arab and Amazigh/Berber) from an association with this era (Mattingly 2011a, 43–72). While in Britain or Gaul it is standard practice to think in terms of Romano-Britons or Gallo-Romans, the binary opposition between Romans and Africans has been consistently emphasized.

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A Personal Approach to Roman Provincial Archaeology and Africa in the Roman Empire This chapter takes a distinctive and personal view of the archaeology of Rome’s African territories, following an approach that I have also applied to the study of Britain (Mattingly 2006). I have abandoned the common paradigm of Romanization as an explanatory tool that emphasizes conformity, preferring to explore the heterogeneity of a widespread colonial system such as the Roman Empire. Whereas more conventional approaches adopt a top-down view of society, prioritizing the story of “Roman Africa” or “Roman Britain,” I think that archaeology allows us to construct a different sort of picture that illuminates all levels of these societies and their regional diversity. This approach is informed by post-colonial theory and scholarship, leading me to question the assumed universal benefits of Roman imperialism for its subject peoples (see also Mattingly 1997a). It seeks to explore different experiences of imperialism across time, space, and social structure and the varied strategies people employed to deal with these realities, ranging from strong resistance to enthusiastic collaboration (see Given 2004; Gosden 2004). The Roman Empire becomes a much more interesting topic of study if we keep in mind its propensity for huge (and often negative) impacts on its subjects through the process of conquest, enslavement, military garrisoning, land grabbing, taxation, and resource extraction (Mattingly 2014, 42 for a table illustrating the complex interactions of deliberate acts of the Roman state and its officials/servants, the consequential acts/responses of provincials and the systemic effects or unintended consequences of these imperial interactions). In place of Romanization, with its emphasis on homogeneity under Rome, I have emphasized the importance of diverse experience of empire by different sectors of the population and how this could lead to a plurality of representations of identities and apparent hybridity (Mattingly 2004, 2014). The application of such approaches to Roman provincial archaeology is both feasible and illuminating. The francophone literature on “l’Afrique romaine” is extensive and in general follows a very different path, building on the extraordinarily rich Latin epigraphy of the North African provinces; this approach reached its apogee with the major works of Lassère (1977, 2015). Given the intended readership of this volume, I have focused more on anglophone writings, centered to some extent (and perhaps inevitably) on my own contributions to the agenda presented here. That is not to devalue the French historiographical tradition, and of course references are included to some key works, with the core literature more fully reviewed by Mattingly and Hitchner (1995). The primary aim of this chapter, however, is to demonstrate how a different sort of provincial story can be constructed.

A Protohistoric Archaeology? One of the major defects of the conventional models of Roman Africa is that they place so much emphasis on migrant populations: Phoenicians/Carthaginians and Romans. This produces a vision of a primitive Africa, with its unsophisticated indigenous populations as passive recipients of technologies (metallurgy, agriculture) and institutions (urbanization, statehood), courtesy of colonizing powers from elsewhere in the Mediterranean. The denigration of the indigenous peoples of Africa has a long history and there was an explicit Greco-Roman discourse on Africa that emphasized its desert nature, the ferocity of its climate and wild beasts, and the primitive nomadic nature of its peoples. The idea that Rome encountered a countryside thinly populated by nomad bands still persists, as does a prejudicial view of pastoral societies (Shaw 1981). Though these can be demonstrated to be exaggerated



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stereotypes or tropes, the literary evidence has commonly been accorded greater authority than it merits. One of the reasons why such myth-representations have endured so powerfully is that the archaeology of the pre-Roman period has been hugely neglected and underdeveloped; the work of Camps (1960, 1961) is a limited exception to this rule. We have thus largely lacked alternative narratives to counter the imperialist perspective of ancient sources and the colonialist bias of many modern scholars, particularly those writing during the nineteenth or early twentieth century heyday of French and Italian imperial adventures in Africa (Mattingly 2011a, 34–37, 43–59). The history of the indigenous people of North Africa, commonly referred to as Berbers, more correctly today as the Amazigh, has long been politicized and complicated by the “Arab”/“Amazigh” identity divide in the modem Maghreb (Camps 1980; Brett and Fentress 1996). Given the relatively small number of actual Roman settlers in Africa, the indigenous peoples will always have comprised the vast majority of the population of Rome’s African provinces. Archaeological research on the first millennium bce is thus crucial to advancing our understanding of the impact of Rome in the first millennium ce. Attempts to take fuller account of the indigenous contribution to Roman and late antique North Africa have been advanced, but always within a traditional framework dominated by the literary sources and Latin epigraphy (Lassère 1977; Moderan 2003). There are two recent exceptions to the general lack of information on the pre-Roman achievements of native peoples. The first is my own work on the Garamantes of the Libyan Sahara (Mattingly 2003, 2007, 2010, 2013). Their heartland lay ca.1000 km south of the Libyan coast in the hyper-arid heart of the Sahara. Scientific research supports the view that by the first millennium bce the climate was much the same as today’s, so the lifestyle and achievements of the Garamantes were the results of their ability to overcome the challenges of their environment. There is evidence that they were constructing permanently occupied settlements from the early first millennium bce, from their first moments associated with irrigated agriculture of a package of crops, notably date palm, wheat, barley, and grapes. By the later first millennium bce, their larger settlements were taking on an increasingly proto-urban form and, during the first half of the first millennium ce, the hundreds of oasis villages in their heartlands became more fortified in appearance (Figure 33.2). Their largest settlements were urban in scale, and their capital Garama (Old Jarma) was ornamented by monumental stone buildings. Their irrigation was based on labor-intensive underground canal systems known as foggaras, indicating control of a substantial labor force. Trade with the Mediterranean world, originating in Punic times, increased in the Roman period. The Garamantes are thus an example of a Libyan desert people who developed a substantial sedentary agricultural component from early on, before contact with Punic or Roman peoples, with their larger settlements meriting recognition as urban sites (Mattingly and Sterry 2013) and the scale and sophistication of their society being that of a state rather than a mere tribe, as they have hitherto tended to be described (Mattingly 2011b). This dramatically changes our perception of indigenous people in ancient North Africa, especially as the key phase of socioeconomic development commenced long before demonstrable contact with Rome or Carthage. The second example relates to the Numidian kingdom, whose rise has traditionally been recognized as a direct result of contacts with Carthage and Rome in the latter centuries bce. Recent work at Althiburos and Simitthus, two small Roman towns built up over preexisting Numidian centers, have penetrated to levels dating to the early first millennium bce. As with the Garamantes, these were sedentary settlements of some sophistication at a date well before the first evidence of contact with Phoenicians or Romans (Kallala and Sanmartí 2011; Sanmartí et al. 2012; Khannousi and von Rummel 2012, 18–92). Radiocarbon dates confirm agriculture at Althiburos from the early centuries of the first millennium bce. This gives us a very different perspective on the rise of the Numidian kingdom, which can now be seen as the end point of a process of socioeconomic change embedded in indigenous society rather

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Figure 33.2  Map of the Garamantian heartlands in the Libyan Sahara, showing distribution of sedentary oasis villages. By David J. Mattingly, from Mattingly 2013, 528.

than transplanted from an overseas source. This is not to say that the Carthaginian state and later Rome did not have an impact or influence on the progression of these tendencies, but it is no longer possible to ignore the indigenous contribution to advances such as agriculture, urbanization, and state formation (see Mattingly 2016 for an extended discussion). More work of this type is needed for other areas and other peoples of North Africa, but our default assumption must now admit the possibility (indeed likelihood) that similar developments were underway across the Maghreb and that from the time of first contacts with Rome, most regions contained a mixture of sedentary and pastoral groups. For example, current work well to the south of the Roman frontier in Morocco, in the Saharan fringe of the Atlas ranges, is revealing evidence of pre-Islamic oasis settlements and social complexity (Mattingly et al. 2017a).

Conquest and Garrisoning With a total garrison estimated at under 30,000 men, the African provinces were generally maintained with an economy of force that is striking in comparison with the area covered (Figure 33.3). Certainly compared to Britain, the Rhine/Danube or Eastern frontiers, the scale of military deployment seems remarkably light, even if it is possible that many forts and their garrisons remain unidentified given the low level of investigation of frontier works since the end of the modern colonial project (Mattingly 1992; Mattingly et al. 2013). The Mauretanian provinces were maintained by a permanent garrison made up entirely of auxiliary troops, with legionary troops periodically sent as emergency reinforcement (Spaul 1994). From the time of Hadrian, the main base of the legion III Augusta was in the



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Figure 33.3  Map of the African frontiers. By David J. Mattingly, from Mattingly et al. 2013, 40.

Aures mountain plains at Lambaesis, with an outer screen of auxiliary forts in the pre-desert margins to the south, mainly at oases (Cagnat 1913; Le Bohec 1989a, 1989b). Because of the relatively low garrison allocation, subsequent extensions to the frontier, such as the occupation of a group of oases in the Libyan desert under Septimius Severus in the early third century ce, necessitated the out-stationing of vexillations of the legion – as at Cidamus (modern Ghadames), Myd[…] (Gheriat al-Garbia) and Gholaia (Bu Njim) (Mackensen 2012; Mattingly 1995, 80–83; Welsby 1990). Our reconstruction of the evolution of the frontier is hampered by the comparative lack of excavations at forts and other key installations (Fentress 1979). This leaves the story overdependent on the epigraphic evidence, with the accident of discovery leaving many lacunae; for example, Mackensen (2012) published a recently discovered fourth century ce inscription that demolishes older theories about a third century abandonment of this part of the Roman frontier. A particularly crucial gap is the lack of overt testimony concerning a series of linear walls and earthworks, sometimes referred to in the modern literature as fossata in open terrain and clausurae in narrow mountain passes, and their associated structures, including towers, gates, and neighbouring forts (Mattingly et al. 2013, 71–80). The two longest barriers run for 50–60  km in areas where there have been long-range seasonal movements (transhumance) of pastoralists (Whittaker 1978). The provision of frequent gates in these linear barriers suggests that control rather than prohibition of such movements lay behind their construction. Shorter clausurae of earth or stone were also constructed in individual mountain passes or defiles between the desert and the sown in southern Tunisia and northern Libya (Mattingly 1995, 106–115; Trousset 1984, 1997). Some, but not all, of these also had gates, suggesting that movement was being channeled to a series of control points. When the fossata were first recorded by French air-photographer Jean Baradez (1949), these were thought to be Hadrianic in date, but subsequently doubts have been raised, though largely based on

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the lack of hard evidence. A fourth century ce coin found on the surface of a tower on one section of the fossatum in Algeria at the very least shows continued manning at that date, but does not constitute firm evidence for date of construction (Jones and Mattingly 1980). Similarly, a funerary inscription reused in a gate structure in the Jebel Tebaga clausura could relate to a secondary reconstruction. Pottery both here and at a number of other clausurae seems to be second to third century ce (Mattingly 1995, 109–111), though it has never been formally recorded and excavation is needed to provide clear evidence. An essential approach to the linear elements of the frontier is to reconsider their function. In general, their location does not correspond to the presumed line of the provincial boundary. Therefore, they were not a frontier line as such. In some cases, however, they do correspond to areas where there was a sharp transition between desert and sown, whether in terms of oasis communities, as along the Wadi Jedi, or the limits of floodwater farming in the Jabal Matmata in southern Tunisia. As already noted, a common theory concerning their function is that they were designed to supervise regular transhumant movements of pastoral groups between the desert exterior and the cultivated interior of the province. Labor movements are another and probably interlinked aspect of the interrelationship between pastoral groups and sedentary cultivators. Something of this sort appears to be described in letters between Saint Augustine and a certain Publicola, who lived in the frontier zone in the early fifth century ce (Saint Augustine, Letters 46.1, 46.5). But the situation was more complicated than a division between pastoralists and sedentarists, as the zone “outside” the territory defined by these barriers contained many oasis communities with their own sedentary cultivators. The existence of significant manufacturing capacity (especially of textiles) in the oases and of substantial trade between the Roman Empire and outlying oasis communities, demonstrable for the Garamantes, suggests that the linear barriers could also have served to control cross-border trade. Our overall interpretation thus needs to take account of multiple factors encompassing Rome’s relations with a range of desert communities, both pastoral and sedentary. The desert frontiers were not neatly or naturally linear, but depended to a greater extent on the control of the main oases and wells/water sources along a network of desert trails. The construction of linear obstacles was undertaken primarily as a means of channeling the movement of people, goods, and animals to certain passages obligés in the predesert landscape. Informal documents written on pottery sherds (ostraca) from Roman forts at Gholaia and Gheriat al-Garbia in Tripolitania testify to the role of the garrison maintaining surveillance on desert tracks and monitoring the movements of people through it (Mattingly 1995, 74–75, 89). The impact of the garrison on the population of the frontier zone has been much debated. In the early modern colonial era the tendency was to see the settlements of this zone as being the direct results of military or paramilitary colonization of desert landscapes that were presumed largely empty, with Roman “soldier farmers” blazing the trail for nineteenth- or twentieth-century colonists. The blurred perceptions between soldiers and civilians has led to the categorization of almost any fortified structure as a “fortin militaire.” Fortified farms and fortified settlements are well-recognized site categories that are widely distributed across Roman North Africa (Mattingly, Sterry, and Leitch 2013; cf. the earlier work of Goodchild 1976). A landmark survey in the Tripolitanian pre-desert showed that these sites predominantly dated between the third and sixth centuries ce and that they could be associated with an indigenous Libyan people (Barker et al. 1996a, 1996b). Their culture showed some Punic and Roman influences, for instance a predeliction for elaborate mausolea, but with a strong adherence to pre-Roman traditions of ancestor worship (Mattingly 1995, 162–167, 2011a, 246–268; Nikolaus 2016).



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There are also so many fortified sites that it is implausible to view them all as military or paramilitary constructions, or even that they were only built with official sanction. The nonmilitary interpretation of many of the fortified sites in the frontier zone thus seems an inescapable conclusion. This is supported by evidence from the Garamantian lands well beyond the frontier, where hundreds of fortified buildings and fortified villages were constructed that were very similar to those of the provincial frontier zone (Sterry and Mattingly 2011, 2013; Sterry, Mattingly, and Higham 2013). Some of the Garamantian fortified complexes bear a striking resemblance in form to late Roman military forts known as quadriburgi, but the evidence of oasis gardens surrounding them and their dense distribution (there is one notable cluster of eight in a 4  km2 area) demonstrates that they were not part of a “Garamantian frontier” emulating Roman military practices. Rather, they were a standard type of fortified village of the late Garamantian era, albeit adopting and adapting a Roman military form of settlement, providing security, but also conveying messages about power and status within that society. The same principle surely applies to many examples of fortified sites within the Roman frontier zone, where we must consider the coexistence of genuine Roman military structures alongside indigenous or at least civilian imitations (as argued more fully in Mattingly, Sterry, and Leitch 2013). Although the Roman army in Africa drew to a large extent on local recruits, it is a mistake to see it as an organ deliberately used for the acculturation of indigenous peoples. Work in other provinces has convincingly demonstrated that the army tended to construct a strong internal sense of community that was in many respects exclusive to it and certainly distinctive from that of most of the civil population in town and country (Goldsworthy and Haynes 1999; Mattingly 2006). The building works, varied religious practices, and epigraphic habits of the army were intended not to draw in the surrounding communities to a Roman way of doing things, but rather to create distance between the army and the wider population. Civil settlements around several forts were accorded municipium status, as at Rapidum, Gemellae, and Nigrenses Maiores, but these had a radically different appearance and character from towns of the civil province, and it is best to consider them as a distinctive class of garrison town. The civilians who lived in such settlements were in most respects de facto members of the “community of soldiers,” something that complicates our interpretation of the cultural markers in the frontier districts (cf. Cherry 1998). We need to distinguish carefully between the military community with its network of garrison settlements on the one hand and on the other the wider civil population of the frontier zone, and recognize that the latter were often operating in a very different cultural milieu from the former.

Urbanization With 400–600 towns, “Roman Africa” is commonly celebrated as one of the most urbanized parts of the Roman Empire and one of the great urban success stories of the ancient world (Février 1982, 1989; Ward-Perkins 1982; Sears 2011). The Maghreb contains some of the most evocative Roman towns: Volubilis, Tipasa, Cuicul, Thamugadi, Bulla Regia, Thugga, Carthago, Utica, Thuburbo Maius, Uthina, Ammaedara, Sufetula, Sabratha, and Lepcis Magna, to name just a few of the most extensively excavated (Figure 33.4). These sites are often combined to illustrate an imagined stereotypical Roman town that corresponds to none of them exactly. Reconstruction drawings of North African cities often accentuate their “Roman” appearance by depicting pitched tile roofs across the townscape, rather than limiting pitched roofs (as seems to have been the general rule) to major temples and select other public buildings (Laronde and Golvin 2001). Many North Africa townscapes were dominated by flat roofs, as has been the common practice to modern times. This tendency to

Figure 33.4  Map of some of the principal towns in Roman Africa. By John Wallrodt, adapted from Lassère 2015, 188.



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accentuate Roman elements also appears in the near overwhelming focus on the most monumental buildings, such as temples and baths (Brouquier-Reddé 1992; Thébert 2003) and elite houses with extraordinary mosaics (Alexander et al. 1985–1987; Thébert 1987; Blanchard-Lemée, Ennaïfer, and Slim 1996; Carucci 2007). Important though these things undoubtedly are for defining Roman Africa, the exclusive emphasis on such aspects limits our understanding of Africa in the Roman Empire. The density, scale, urban layout, and amenities of towns in fact varied considerably. The group of cities named above is actually rather heterodox, united more by assumed commonalities than by actually demonstrable ones. The colonial-era excavations were mostly extensive clearances that paid scant attention to stratigraphy, and the full publication of even major monuments has been poor. The urban plans that we have for several sites are thus generally devoid of chronological controls or understanding of the functions of urban spaces beyond the most recognizable elements, such as baths and entertainment buildings. Carthago is a notable exception to this rule, thanks to an international campaign to rescue information about the city in the face of a wave of modern development since the 1970s (Ennabli 1992), but even there the full study of finds assemblages and palaeoenvironmental data remains rare. The origins of towns contributed to their distinctiveness (Gascou 1972 remains the key study). The African or Punic names of many of the sites listed above attest to pre-Roman origins. There were in fact at least three distinct pre-Roman urban traditions at play: Phoenician/ Carthaginian emporia, Numidian/Mauretanian centers, and desert oasis towns like those of the Garamantes. Each of these contributed to a distinctive urban tradition established before the first Roman towns. Roman towns in North Africa contributed a number of new elements to these models – from newly established sites and colonies, to the continued occupation of preexisting sites, to garrison settlements around Roman army bases that were occasionally upgraded to full urban status. As a general rule, coastal sites were the ones that grew largest, often developing far beyond an original Phoenician nucleus and showing at least partial gridded layouts for some of the greater expansions. These sites generally acquired the full range of common Roman urban amenities at a comparatively early date. These former Libyphoenician ports were also generally successful in achieving urban promotions, many ending as honorary Roman colonies. Lepcis Magna is an outstanding example, with the site expanding to an area of ca. 425 ha with an early defensive bank and ditch (Di Vita et al. 1999; Mattingly 1995, 116–122). The city was ornamented with a market in 8 bce, a theater in 1–2 ce, a chalcidicum in 12 ce, an amphitheater in 56, a massive main public bath complex and an aqueduct under Hadrian, and a circus by the 160s. The main roads of the city were paved in the 30s ce, with numerous honorific arches erected. The most remarkable aspect of this urban development is that it was driven by local notables still bearing Punic names in the first century ce (for a good review of the extensive epigraphic evidence, see Cooley 2012, 250–285). One of the leading citizens, Annobal Tapapius Rufus, paid for both the theater and the market and was honored by a togate statue. The names were uniformly Latinized in the early second century after the city was promoted to colonial status and the population to Roman citizen status, but it was a further generation before Punic script was finally abandoned in funerary contexts (Fontana 2001). By the mid-second century, the leading Lepcitanian families were sending their wealthiest sons into the Roman Senate, and one of these, L. Septimius Severus, emerged victorious from the civil war of 193–197 to briefly establish an African dynasty (Birley 1988). His extravagant plans to embellish his home town yet further transformed the already impressive urban center with the addition of a colonnaded street, a massive new forum and basilica, an enlarged harbor, and a great four-way arch (Ward-Perkins 1993). Two other Libyphoenician coastal cities, Leptiminus and Meninx, have been the subject of systematic survey in recent decades, revealing important details of the built-up urban core and

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the extent and nature of suburbs (see Figure 33.5b), especially relating to manufacturing and cemeteries (Ben Lazreg and Mattingly 1992; Stirling, Ben Lazreg, and Mattingly 2001; Drine, Fentress, and Holod 2009; Stone, Mattingly, and Ben Lazreg 2011). Such studies offer an important starting point for the reinterpretation of the plans and development of other sites. At the other end of the spectrum, many inland towns remained comparatively small, with a limited range of amenities and monumental complexes and lower levels of promotion to more prestigious urban status (municipium, colonia). The site of Thugga (modern Dougga) is a notable example, though in some respects it is far from typical of the smaller urban sites. It was a Numidian royal foundation and in the early Roman period was part of the territory (pertica) assigned to Roman Carthago as well as being the local market center for a number of large estates that were imperial possessions by the Flavian period (de Vos 2013). The imperial estates and the elite of Carthago produced a line of donors of monumental projects at Thugga, though the hill-slope site retained its irregular network of lanes, rather than being orthogonally planned. The town also seems to have had a double community, with a native civitas and an assignment of Roman citizens. This unusual conjunction of circumstances probably accounts for the relatively complete suite of urban monuments eventually built at the site, including a circus and an aqueduct. Althiburos was a small Roman town built over a Numidian fortified settlement on a flattopped ridge between two deeply incised wadis (seasonally dry rivers). The scale of monument construction here in the Roman period is less pronounced than at Thugga, so it is to some extent more representative of the majority of inland towns of Africa. The protohistoric levels extended up to 5 m below the Roman structures, and recent deep sondages revealed a permanent settlement of complex stone-footed buildings from the early first millennium bce that underwent several phases of proto-urban development (Kallala and Sanmartí 2011). The pre-Roman site’s importance is also indicated by an extensive funerary landscape of megalithic tombs and tumuli (Sanmartí et al. 2015). Similar funerary landscapes are widespread in central and northern Tunisia and again give important clues about the location of other early urban centers in this African tradition (Mattingly 2016). Thamugadi (modern Timgad) was very extensively excavated in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries and has one of the most reproduced plans of a Roman veteran colony, its rigid orthogonal layout often held up as the epitome of the Roman planned town (e.g., Stambaugh 1988, 281–286). What is less appreciated is that beyond the square core of the site, the town eventually expanded to more than double the area in a much more haphazardly laid out form. Established as a veteran colony only a few years before Thamugadi, Cuicul (modern Djemila) was also extensively excavated in the French colonial period. Despite its monumental Roman buildings, many of late second or third century date, the site differs fundamentally from Thamugadi. The location selected for the town was a high but narrow flat-topped peninsula, flanked by steep scarps, thus with limited scope for expansion once the hilltop was built up. This is a type of site that we can now recognize as being distinctively Numidian (see Althiburos, above), and surely succeeded a Numidian center on the site, although one was not identified in the early excavations, which did not go beneath the level of the monumental Roman structures. In this case, the early phase of the site was more influenced by the Numidian urban form than the Roman one, with the main monumentalization occurring at a somewhat later date. As noted above, towns in the military zone tended to have a distinctive culture, reflecting their close associations with the Roman army. This is especially true of the civil settlement that developed into a substantial town alongside the legionary base at Lambaesis (Groslambert 2009, 2011). This was also the headquarters of the legate in charge of Numidia and thus the provincial capital. In consequence, the range of religious practice and gods attested at Lambaesis is unusually broad compared with other sites in the Aures or frontier zone.



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Maps of the distribution of Roman towns in Tunisia and Algeria show few sites in the vicinity of the desert. As noted already, though, there were significant numbers of desert oases inhabited from an early date, and the transition of some into legally constituted towns in the Roman period needs to be recognized. Such towns were probably very different to and less monumentalized than those already described, however, and have been less explored archaeologically. For example, Tunis Tamalleni, the main center for the Nybgenii people, was promoted to municipium rank under Hadrian and became the seat of a bishop in the fourth century ce. It was almost certainly located at the village of Telmine in the oasis region of Nefzaoua in southern Tunisia, as Latin inscriptions, architectural elements and a spring basin have been found there. The site was evidently very small, however, its settlement mound surrounded by a ditch occupying only ca.10 ha. Little excavation has been carried out there, but it is clear that the character of this sort of oasis town may have been very different from those in the more temperate parts of the Maghreb. The period from the mid-second to early third centuries ce was in some ways the pinnacle of development of the classic Roman city in Africa. Yet rather than viewing the long subsequent history as simply a decline, it is important to recognize that late antiquity was a time of profound urban change, with the dramatic spread of Christianity. It was also a period when many small population centers with low levels of monumentalization were promoted to higher urban status (Lepelley 1979, 1981; Potter 1995; Leone 2007, 2013; Sears 2007).

Economic Development Africa was one of the plum provincial governorships for a senator to be allocated, on a par with Asia. It was also one of the most productive areas of new members of the senatorial order outside Italy. The archaeological evidence for Africa’s economic “success” is also compelling: spectacular monuments, large-scale marble use, and masterpieces of mosaic art are all proxy indicators of the proverbial economic wealth of Africa. This section will explore two different questions relating to the economy of the African provinces: What were the sources of the wealth? And to what extent can this prosperity be seen as a positive benefit of Africa’s experience of empire? The answer to the first question must be sought in relation to what the provinces produced and traded. Literary sources emphasize the large-scale wheat production of Africa, which stood with Egypt as principal “breadbaskets” of Rome. It is a moot point, though, whether production so closely linked to the annona was in itself explanation enough for the visible economic success of the African provinces, as will be seen. There is also the impressive archaeological testimony of a wider productive economy related to agriculture and arboriculture. Although remarkably few rural settlements have ever been excavated, the extraordinary preservation of many sites in the landscape has made North Africa a region where intensive field survey has produced spectacular results (see, inter alia, Barker et al. 1996a, 1996b; Dietz, Ladjimi Sebai, and Ben Hassen 1995; Drine, Fentress, and Holod 2009; Hitchner 1988, 1990; Ørsted et al. 2000; Stone 2004). The results have emphasized the potential for genuine growth in rural production during the Roman era in terms of the density of rural settlement, the exceptional scale of olive presses, and so on (Mattingly 1988a, 1988b, 1993; Mattingly and Hitchner 1993; Hobson 2015). The largest of the olive oil production facilities had more than ten huge lever presses in purpose-built ranges (Figure 33.5a), and some estate centers were like small towns in terms of their built-up area. North African pottery was widely distributed around the Mediterranean basin, standing as a clear proxy for a wider pattern of manufacture and commerce (Bonifay 2004). The production of amphorae can be linked to significant export capacity in olive oil, wine, and fish sauces (Peacock, Bejaoui, and Belazreg 1989, 1990). The suburban zone of amphora production at the Tunisian coastal city of Leptiminus, for example, covered an area almost as large as the

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Figure 33.5  Markers of economic growth and export capacity in Africa. a. Roman oileries (mass production olive farms); b. survey evidence relating to manufacturing activity in suburbs at Leptiminus (Tunisia). By David J. Mattingly, a. from Hobson 2015, 92–100; b. from Stone, Mattingly and Ben Lazreg 2011, 127.

urban core (Figure 33.5b; Stone, Mattingly, and Ben Lazreg 2011, 223–253 for pottery production at the site). The Leptiminus finds also provide evidence of moderate Roman economic growth (Stone and Mattingly 2011). The development of artificial harbors along the North African coast – a region notoriously poor in natural ports – is further testimony to the volume of trans-Mediterranean trade



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(Stone 2016). Underwater archaeology has been relatively underdeveloped here, leading to a potentially massive underrepresentation of African examples in the catalog of known Mediterranean shipwrecks (Parker 1992; Wilson 2009, 219–229). Although never on the scale of the eastern trade in silks and spices, Saharan trade was also a valuable cycle of exchange, providing the empire with slaves, ivory, wild beasts, carnelian, dates, textiles, and possibly gold and salts (Wilson 2012a; Mattingly et al. 2017b). The importance of a Saharan trade in Black Africans remains controversial, but there is some persuasive evidence that this was a lucrative element of ancient commerce (Fentress 2011). As with urbanization, the economic boom in North Africa has often been seen as a Roman phenomenon above all. Some commentators have even presented it as the creation of Roman enterprise in a marginal and arid countryside. There are good reasons, however, to trace the origins of a Roman boom to the much earlier and widespread development of sedentary farming across the Maghreb (Mattingly 2016). As noted already, the earliest sedentary agriculture can now be traced to indigenous “Numidian” settlements and precocious desert oases rather than the pioneer coastal settlements of Phoenician colonists, as was long believed. Rather than being due to external investment and expertise, African agriculture was already well established, based on local technologies of dryland farming (e.g., Barker et al. 1996a, 191–225, for floodwater farming systems in the Libyan pre-desert; see also Shaw 1984). On the other hand, the evidence is compelling for a Roman crescendo in economic markers of all types, including numbers and scale of olive farms, amphora production, etc. There are reasons to be skeptical, of course, about assumed universal benefits of wealth accrued by select groups in society (Hobson 2015). Dossey (2010) has noted that many rural settlements show only slight signs of wealth and elevated consumption for long periods, despite their evident productive capacity. There are equally clear indications of major Roman impact on patterns of landholding, most notably the land survey (centuriation) of 16,000 km2 of land in northern and central Tunisia, much of which may have been reallocated in the century after the destruction of Carthage in 146 bce (Hobson 2016). The annexation of the Numidian kingdom in 46 bce provided the Roman state with another massive acquisition of territory, leading to the settlement of considerable numbers of veterans under Caesar and Augustus and the formation of a series of large-scale senatorial and imperial estates (Kehoe 1988; de Vos 2013). Rome also assigned land to subject peoples in the African provinces according to their perceived merits, leading to winners and losers among the indigenous peoples (Mattingly 1997b, 1998). The interplay between local factors, imperial redistributive and explotative mechanisms, and Mediterranean commercial opportunities makes it difficult to talk about a singular “economy” of Roman Africa. Rather, I have argued that the economic trajectory of the African provinces provides a good illustration of the interactions among three economic processes: an imperial economy, an extra-provincial economy involving maritime and long-range inland trade, and a localized provincial economy (Mattingly 2011a, 125–145). In considering the nature and scale of exports from the African provinces to Rome, it is hard to avoid the conclusion that the “imperial economy” played a significant role, notably via the state redistributive system (annona). We know that grain was requisitioned by Rome from an early date (Sirks 1991) and that olive oil was added to the annona commodities carried from Africa to Rome under Septimius Severus (Mattingly 1988b, 1995, 138–157), with potentially serious implications thereafter for the prosperity of his home city of Lepcis Magna. However, the impact of the annona was not necessarily uniformly negative on provincial communities in areas where food for Rome was sourced. Because of its larger responsibilities to ensure all aspects of the food supply of the city, the annona did more than take surplus production in lieu of taxation. For example, it was also an active subsidizer of the movement of a wide range of goods (Sirks 1991). As mentioned, olive oil was added to the annona from the third century ce; Peña (1998) discusses later ostraca concerning the regulation of olive oil consignments passing through the harbor area at Carthage. Ports linked to annona supply became foci of shipping and wider extra-provincial commercial activity. One sign of the wider access of North African

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goods to Mediterranean markets is shown by the overall distribution of the Africana I and Africana II amphora series, which extended well beyond the city of Rome (Stone 2009). Another graphic example of the “imperial economy” in action concerns the impact on a major settlement and its resources of the development of the imperial quarries at Simitthus (modern Chemtou), famous for a distinctive and much-prized yellow “marble” (Rakob 1993, 1994, 2005). The long-established Numidian town and sanctuary here were remodeled around the needs of the imperial quarry, with its military camp and coercive production compounds.

Religious Outlook and Material Culture The model of Romanization has been at the center of most cultural evaluations of ancient North Africa, generally creating a vastly oversimplified and schematic reading of the evidence, whether broadly arguing for the success of a Roman project (Broughton 1929; MacMullen 2000) or arguing for indigenous cultural resistance (cf. Benabou 1976; see Mattingly 2011a, 38–41, for a fuller discussion). Attempts to redefine Romanization to suit the North African experience have been of limited value (see Fentress 2006; Mattingly 1995, 160–170), and I now argue that the notion of discrepant identities better serves analysis of the cultural complexities (Mattingly 2011a, 203–245). Francophone scholars are also exploring the idea of identity (Briand-Ponsart 2005). Pliny (Natural History 5.29) famously commented on the 516 distinct peoples of North Africa between the River Ampsaga and the Greater Syrtes. Interestingly, this is almost the same number of urban communities that we now recognize within this area. This might suggest that the Maghreb has for long periods been a region of numerous small-scale societies with a local or regional focus. The Roman sources, however, also allude to larger entities, whether genuine early states like Numidia and Mauretania or vaguer groupings of peoples, like Maures, Gaetuli, and Libyphoenices. There were also other significant differences in ancient society that we might envisage contributing to rather varied ways of expressing identity (Revell 2016). Language is likely to have been a primary way that people identified with or distanced themselves from each other. The major languages of ancient North Africa were Libyan/Berber (probably existing in a variety of local dialects), Punic, and Latin. The order here reflects the probable importance in descending order of these language groups in terms of daily speech, though this is the exact opposite of the epigraphic importance, where the numbers of recorded Latin inscriptions far outstrip the numbers of Punic/Neo-Punic/Latino-Punic and Libyan texts. Even in the cities, Punic and Libyan continued to be spoken, but they were more ubiquitous in many rural areas, with all three represented at some sites, suggestive of different languages being used in different social contexts, as at the important late Roman site of Ghirza in the Libyan predesert (Brogan and Smith 1984; Mattingly 2011a, 241–245). In my work on discrepant identity (e.g., Mattingly 2014), I have highlighted the fact that broad divergences in behaviors and interactions with material culture can be observed in a number of Roman provinces. For instance, the army and associated civilians living in garrison settlements often stand out in quite distinctive ways from neighboring rural and urban groups. Country folk generally followed a narrower range of religious and cultural choices than did urban dwellers. All this may seem relatively self-evident, but conventional applications of the notion of Romanization rarely address this plurality or hybridity of ways of “being Roman,” – or indeed being someone else entirely. I believe that these broad social, regional, and ethnic distinctions have relevance to the cultural choices and trajectories of different parts of the African provinces. For example, the Libyphoenician coastal towns retained many aspects of Punic material culture and practice, while also demonstrating an openness to pan-Mediterranean cults (Brouquier-Reddé 1992). Nonetheless, the citizens of Lepcis Magna enthusiastically embraced new fashions and ways



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of “being Roman,” manifested by the first Italian style theater and market complexes in North Africa and a rash of early togate statues of prominent locals. Yet in the private sphere, Punic remained a language of funerary commemoration long after its last placement (in bilingual text) on a public monument, and funerary rites reflected a strong adherence to local traditions (Fontana 2001; Kerr 2007; Wilson 2012b). Burial practice is one of the clearest markers of social identity, and though early excavations of Roman era burials were primarily concerned with the recovery of artefacts buried with the cremated or inhumed body, more recently, work has started to focus more on the skeletal remains and details of the burial process and commemorative markers (Stone 2007; Stone and Stirling 2007). These tell us about the burial practices, cultural beliefs, expressions of identity, and demographic profile of the community. Religious preferences represent another obvious area to investigate for evidence of cultural differences. There is a prevalent belief in Roman studies that, through a process of syncretism, a standardized hybrid form of pagan religious practice emerged – what is sometimes called Romano-African or Romano-British religion – with an implied high degree of homogeneity. More recently, it has been recognized that religious practice varied greatly across societies and regions and that these differences reflect more than levels of wealth and literacy (Mattingly 2011a, 227–233, 243–245). Despite some similarities, such as the translation of the cult of Baal to that of Saturn, the religious path of the former Numidian lands diverged from the Libyphoenician coastal belt in its particular emphasis on chthonic cults (Cadotte 2007, with many distribution maps). Interestingly, Baal/Saturn, so popular in the northern Numidian and Libyphoenician lands (Leglay 1961, 1966a, 1966b), was almost entirely absent from the Gaetulian pre-desert lands, reflecting a profound long-term difference in religious behaviors in that zone. The army and its garrison settlements also stand out as distinctly different in religious behavior from other groups (Mattingly 2011a, 241–245). Artistic and architectural practices also need to be carefully analyzed to determine their cultural significance and ambiguities. The African provinces were undoubtedly culturally hybridized, and we are starting to appreciate that far from being passive receivers of “stuff’ that originated elsewhere, North Africans were active producers, transformers, and innovators. Two recent studies exemplify the new approaches. Camporeale (2016) has traced the early evolution of distinctive styles of building using ashlar blocks that came to typify much Roman architecture in Africa. Opus africanum is a form of construction that utilized vertical piers of ashlars to create a frame for the structure, its panels infilled with smaller coursed masonry or mortared rubble. This evolved in Africa as a hybrid style representing the interweaving of local and external technologies. Similarly, a detailed study of the formal characteristics of architectural elements used in public buildings in Mauretania Tingitana has revealed a complex interplay between external models and local preferences, suggesting new ways to approach Roman provincial architecture (Mugnai 2016).

Africa in the Roman Empire? My approaches to the study of Africa in the Roman Empire are the happenstance consequences of nearly forty years’ engagement with the archaeology of the Maghreb and Sahara. They reflect in part the chance encounters and opportunities that have informed my career. However, a larger picture and an inherent logic has emerged over time. The inequalities of the datasets available, with a heavy emphasis on epigraphic testimony and the most spectacular architectural and artistic creations, cannot be easily remedied, especially in the postArab Spring era when access to much of the region is now severely restricted.

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What I hope this chapter has communicated is that we can profitably revisit our assumptions about Roman archaeology and review the collected evidence with fresh eyes and with different questions. The issues highlighted may also serve better to capture the attention of the modern-day populations of the region, who have long repudiated the idea of “Roman Africa” as part of their cultural heritage. The study of “Africa in the Roman Empire” is not at all the same thing and offers the best chance for renewing archaeological study of the classical past in this region and of engaging the region’s population with this extraordinary heritage.

Biographical Note David Mattingly is a professor of Roman Archaeology at the University of Leicester, UK. His PhD thesis was a study of archaeology and history of the Roman province and frontier region of Tripolitania (northwest Libya and southeast Tunisia). He has conducted fieldwork on Roman sites in Tunisia (the Leptiminus Project, the Kasserine Survey) and Libya (the UNESCO Libyan Valleys Survey) and published extensively about Africa in the Roman World. He has also led fieldwork and research on the Saharan peoples neighboring the Roman Empire in Libya (the Fazzan Project; the Desert Migrations Project) and Morocco (the Middle Draa Project).

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CHAPTER 34

Lusitania Daniel Osland

Introduction Lusitania was the westernmost province of continental Europe, and in the minds of authors in Rome, at least, was located in the farthest reaches of the western empire, on the exterior face of the Iberian Peninsula (Figure 34.1). Stretching over most of modern Portugal and a sizable portion of west-central Spain, Lusitania was a large and highly varied territory. The province incorporated extensive coastal regions, broad agricultural territories along several major river basins, and rugged mountainous outcrops, particularly in the north. This geographical and topographical diversity contributed to a high degree of cultural variation. Indeed, while some of the cultural diversity of the region softened upon the establishment of the Roman province, certain preexisting structures and tendencies survived long after the arrival of the Romans. The entire territory of Lusitania was fully incorporated into the Roman world, in broad cultural and economic terms, by the early second century ce. At the same time, certain pre-Roman tendencies occasionally cropped up throughout the Roman period. Thus, the term “Hispano-Roman” is sometimes helpful in discussing the hybrid nature of the province’s society, particularly when referring to the elite classes of the province. Despite its great physical distance from Rome, western and southern Iberia had long featured in Roman activities, both military and economic, as part of the vast province of Hispania Ulterior. Direct Roman involvement in areas later incorporated into the Augustan province of Lusitania can be traced back as far as the early second century bce, when Roman armies began a series of incursions into the north of Hispania in the wake of the Second Punic War. The histories of Polybius, Appian, and Livy preserve extensive accounts of Rome’s military intervention, and from these sources we learn that the first few decades of Roman activity resulted in a number of triumphs and the capture of a large volume of booty. While these operations in Hispania were reported back to Rome as successful conquests, judging from the constant need for further action, they are probably best described as raiding parties rather than any attempt at permanent conquest or pacification (Richardson 1986, 80–104). On the

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 2, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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Figure 34.1  Map of Roman Lusitania showing major cities and towns (Roman names in all capitals). Adapted by Daniel Osland from CNRS 1990, Mantas 2012 fig. 108, and Gorges 1979.

other hand, the alliances and treaties resulting from such small-scale Roman victories sometimes created a kind of frontier zone between the new allies of Rome and groups that remained openly hostile. In this sense, sporadic Roman military activity during the first half of the second century bce did lead to a lasting cultural influence over certain indigenous groups in central Hispania. More permanent Roman interest in central and western Iberia appears to have been inspired by the successes of local tribes such as the Lusitani and the Arevaci (at Numantia) in the mid-second century. In 140 bce, under the direction of their charismatic general Viriathus, the Lusitani and their allies embarked on a massive uprising against Rome and her allies in central Hispania. Around the same time, the Romans also found themselves faced with the obstinate Arevaci and their fortified hilltop settlement at Numantia, in the Second Celtiberian War. After several years of defeat and frustration, the Romans eventually defeated the Lusitani



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and, much later, conquered the city of Numantia. But both of these victories came at great cost, and Rome was now aware that a more permanent military presence and more reliable alliances in central and western Iberia would be necessary in order to preserve these military successes. Despite growing recognition of the complexities of military and diplomatic activity in Hispania, allied towns and peoples were constantly renegotiating their status with respect to both Rome and their indigenous neighbors. The historical accounts point to ongoing sporadic interventions in local affairs down through the early first century bce, confirming that Rome still held a somewhat tenuous relationship with her allies. Over half a century after the rebellion of the Lusitani and the Numantine War, a Roman general named Sertorius capitalized on local animosity toward Rome, staging a major revolt out of his base in Hispania, and eventually attracting the support of the Lusitani (Curchin 2004, 42–46). In response to this formidable threat to Roman hegemony over Hispania – which appears to have received significant support from Romans living in the peninsula – Rome eventually sent Pompey the Great and Caecilius Metellus against Sertorius. It was only after several years of intermittent warfare that the Romans were finally able to defeat Sertorius and his Roman and native allies, and to establish a permanent hold over most of the Iberian Peninsula. From this time forward, Rome enjoyed generally peaceful relations with the peoples of western and central Iberia, perhaps in part because Roman armies were never far off after the 70s bce. Acting as proconsul in Hispania in the year 61 bce, Julius Caesar ran a brief campaign against the Lusitani and the Callaeci, but this appears to have been little more than a raiding and reconnaissance mission, and it was certainly not an attempt to establish a permanent military presence in northern Lusitania (Cassius Dio 37.52; Plutarch, Life of Julius Caesar 12). When the provinces of Hispania (Ulterior and Citerior, at this time) were placed under the control of Pompey the Great during the First Triumvirate, he did not visit the area personally. There is no record of any active military interest in the future territory of Lusitania until the outbreak of the Civil Wars, when certain areas of Hispania, remaining loyal to Pompey even after his death, provided refuge and support to Pompey’s sons. Caesar and his forces eventually eliminated the last traces of resistance at the Battle of Munda in 45 bce. Only in the extreme northwest of the peninsula did any native resistance to Rome’s military power remain after this decisive battle. Certain groups of Gallaecia and Cantabria in northwestern Tarraconensis remained at odds with Rome down through the year 16 bce, when they were finally defeated.

Scholarship Since the last quarter of the twentieth century, our knowledge of the archaeological record of Lusitania has improved dramatically. The sheer size of the province continues to pose some challenges; these include working across modern national boundaries and the extremely diverse nature of the archaeological evidence preserved from one locality to the next. The Tabula Imperii Romani series includes four volumes that cover portions of Lusitania [TIR J–29: Lisboa (1995); K–29: Porto (1991); J–30: Valencia (2001); and K–30: Madrid (1993)], but the volume covering most of the northern half of Lusitania includes no complete entries for the Portuguese territory, and so leaves out any information on such important Roman cities as Portus Cale (Porto/Vila Nova de Gaia), Conimbriga, and Aeminium (Coimbra). Jorge de Alarcão’s Roman Portugal (Alarcão 1988) fills in much of this gap, but it is also, quite naturally, limited to the borders of the modern country. Recently, a series of international roundtables on Lusitania have been organized every few years, through a collaborative effort that involves institutions from France, Spain, and Portugal (Tables rondes sur la Lusitanie romaine). These roundtables have resulted in several

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volumes (seven, to date) on specific themes related to the province as a whole, such as the countryside, the cities of Lusitania, territorial organization, society and culture, travel and communication, and the mythical and real origins of the province. In addition to these collections of thematic essays, there are also a number of monographs dedicated to the Roman history of particular sites, with a natural preference for sites with well-preserved archaeological records and for important modern cities. In this context, it is worth highlighting the Fouilles de Conimbriga (Alarcão et al. 1974–1979) in seven volumes, a monument to the massive undertakings at the extremely well-preserved site of Conimbriga, a short distance to the south of modern Coimbra, in Condeixa-a-Velha. No other urban site in Lusitania has been subject to such comprehensive archaeological investigation, but several have received excellent monographic treatments, including Capera (Cáparra, Spain), Mirobriga Celtici (Santiago do Cacém, Portugal) and, more recently, Ammaia. Moreover, a number of important rural villas have been similarly well-excavated and published – among them São Cucufate, Milreu, Torre de Palma, Torre Águila, and Quinta das Longas. The variety of architectural features and decorative schemes at Lusitania’s extensive rural villas illustrates just how diverse the province was, even within areas that exploited similar agricultural products and probably had similar access to markets and nearby urban centers. The arrival of the digital age has dramatically increased the speed with which sites are published and the reach of smaller, local publications. As a result, the state of Lusitanian archaeology is constantly improving, and there are now a range of digital publications and websites dedicated to specific aspects of Roman archaeology in and around the province. The site of Balsa (Luz da Tavira, Portugal), with its own dedicated website (arkeotavira. com) and an abundant set of resources available for study, is a good example of the level of dissemination possible through digital media. The site is no longer maintained or updated regularly, due to the passing of the president of the Associação Campo Arqueológico de Tavira in 2011, but the site remains an excellent resource as a repository of published and unpublished materials related to the Roman city of Balsa. Ammaia is another Lusitanian site that illustrates the potential of new digital approaches to the archaeological record (Corsi and Vermeulen 2012). While only limited excavation campaigns have been conducted at the site, a combination of traditional and nondestructive techniques has dramatically improved our knowledge of this central Lusitanian city (Radio Past 2013; compare figs. 7 and 18). Exploration of most other sites has been impeded by their considerable post-Roman occupation, but the digital revolution has also led to a significant increase in the speed and breadth of dissemination of emergency excavation results, which remain a primary source of archaeological evidence related to both the cities and the rural installations of the Roman province.

Geography Lusitania was established on the banks of the Tagus River, with the rivers Durius and Anas as its boundaries on the north and south/southeast, respectively (Figure 34.1). At its widest, Lusitania stretched almost halfway across Hispania, coming within 75 km of Toletum, which is located near the geographic center of the Iberian Peninsula. The eastern division between Lusitania and Hispania Citerior/Tarraconensis did not follow a major geographical feature, and, for this reason, the boundary remains somewhat uncertain. Pliny the Elder is a useful reference for identifying many of the towns and cities that lay within the province, and, on the basis of his evidence, it is sometimes possible to reconstruct a general provincial boundary between the territories of known civitates. There are still a few cases, however, where it is unclear whether a relatively important town – like Obila/Abela (Ávila) or Ocelum Duri



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(Zamora) – lay within Lusitania, and occasionally it appears that a city’s territory may have extended across the provincial boundary, as seems likely of one small enclave of Augusta Emerita located to the south of Contributa Iulia in the province of Baetica. The province was bounded on the south and west by the Atlantic Ocean, on which were sited important pre-Roman settlements like Ossonoba (Faro), Lacobriga (Lagos), Caetobriga (Setúbal/Tróia), Felicitas Iulia Olisipo (Lisboa), and Portus Cale. Along with these maritime ports, the province was home to a number of major river ports: Scallabis Praesidium Iulia (Santarém) on the Tagus, Aeminium on the Munda (Mondêgo), Urbs Imperatoria Salacia (Alcácer do Sal) on the estuary of the Sado, and Myrtilis Iulia (Mértola, Portugal) near the southern end of the Anas. Although uninterrupted travel to the provincial capital at Augusta Emerita was impossible by boat due to the Pulo do Lobo Falls just north of Myrtilis, shallowdraft vessels undoubtedly transported goods between Emerita and the Atlantic shipping routes. Thus, while the province was physically quite far removed from much of the Roman world, many of the most important settlements of pre-Roman and Roman Lusitania still had excellent access to the major trade routes of the Mediterranean and the Atlantic. Indeed, it is likely that maritime access was a primary factor in the siting and the ongoing viability of many of Lusitania’s settlements.

Political Geography As a result of its varied topography and long history of intercultural connections, Iron Age Lusitania was characterized by a high level of cultural diversity. The pre-Roman inhabitants included a large population of linguistic groups that can be categorized loosely as Celtic or pre-Celtic, many of them carefully distinguished from each other by the Roman historians and, in at least some cases, in the epigraphic record and Roman period territorial divisions as well. The Lusitani, from whom the province would eventually take its name, lived primarily in the north central region of modern Portugal. The Vettones were concentrated mainly in northeastern Lusitania, with Celtici in the center and south, along with more limited pockets of Turduli along the extreme western portion of Lusitania (from roughly Olisipo all the way north to Portus Cale) and just south of the Anas River (bordering on the territory of the Turdetani). Bordering groups, in particular the Vaccaei to the northeast, the Carpetani to the east, and the Turdetani and Punic peoples to the southeast, will have exerted further influence. The subjugation of the pre-Roman inhabitants – sometimes through protracted warfare – led to the gradual submersion of much of their culture within the matrix of Roman provincial culture. However, pre-Roman tendencies still occasionally emerge in the Roman epigraphic record and, as has already been suggested above, in settlement patterns. Overall, it seems that Rome’s cultural and economic offerings were sufficiently enticing to the local elite classes that the process of accommodation was relatively rapid. Within a century of the establishment of the province, a large number of Roman-style settlements and sites appeared throughout Lusitania, many of them with robust epigraphic records that illustrate the efforts elites made to incorporate themselves into the new political realities of Roman rule. Southern and western Lusitania was highly urbanized by the second century ce, perhaps even sooner in the coastal southern reaches. Meanwhile, the more mountainous northern and eastern territories of the province never achieved high levels of urbanization or settlement density. These disparities in settlement pattern were influenced by a number of factors, but there appears to be a particularly direct link between settlement patterns and levels of maritime commercial activity. Towns of coastal Portugal, for example, had contact with Mediterranean trade networks from the eighth century bce onward (Arruda 2008, 15). Moreover, southern Lusitania bordered on, and may at one time have been culturally incorporated into, the thriving civilization of Tartessos, which had ties with other Mediterranean cultures long before the arrival of Roman armies during the Punic Wars (Lowe 2009, 8–34).

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Finally, the large, fertile plains of the south and central province were much more amenable to the establishment of large, orthogonal settlements, while the more rugged reaches of the north lent themselves more readily to smaller settlements with distinct economic structures. In this respect, it is worth noting that nearly all of the province’s important cities were located on major waterways and in relatively fertile territory.

Provincial Organization Cassius Dio (53.12) dates the creation of Lusitania (and presumably the other provinces of Hispania, Baetica, and Tarraconensis; see Rodà and Rodríguez Gutiérrez, “Hispania Citerior and Baetica,” chapter 35 of this volume, for further discussion of Iberia’s conquest, provincial boundaries, and economy) to the year 27 bce, when the Senate conceded the new provinces of Tarraconensis and Lusitania to Augustus as imperial provinces, carved out of the old Hispania Ulterior. There is good reason to believe that Augustus undertook a major reorganization of Hispania in or around 16 bce, in the wake of the Cantabrian Wars (c. 29–16 bce). This is probably when portions of northern Lusitania – notably Gallaecia and Asturica – were transferred into the province of Tarraconensis. Both Lusitania and Tarraconensis remained imperial provinces, but, by the end of the first century bce, only Tarraconensis retained its active military garrison. This consolidation of Roman military power within Tarraconensis can perhaps be linked with a desire to maintain an obvious military presence in the wake of the Cantabrian Wars and, as may have been equally important, to oversee exploitation of the extensive gold-producing sites in the northwest. Lusitania had its capital at Colonia Iulia Augusta Emerita, a city reportedly established in 25 bce and settled with veterans withdrawn from the legions V Alaudae and X Gemina, both of which had served in the Cantabrian Wars (Cassius Dio 53.26). At the same time that the provincial boundaries were being delineated, the cities of the province were also being organized into an administrative system, which included three separate conventus, or juridical districts. Each of these districts had as its capital city a Roman colony: Augusta Emerita served as the capital of the Conventus Emeritensis, Scallabis headed the Conventus Scallabitanus, and Pax Iulia (Beja) was the capital of the Conventus Pacensis. As we gain a better understanding of the epigraphic evidence and the archaeological record, it becomes ever more apparent that the Roman provincial and conventual boundaries largely, if loosely, reflected the pre-Roman situation. Thus, the northern boundary of Lusitania was placed at the Durius River, effectively the border between the Lusitani and the Callaeci. The border to the northeast and the east separated the Vettones from the Vaccaei and the Carpetani, whose territories largely fell within the boundaries of Tarraconensis. This respect for pre-Roman structures appears to have extended to the local level, where civitates were recognized as the local administrative and economic units, often retaining an ethnic or geographical descriptor in the official recognized title (e.g., Aravorum, Ammaiensis, Igaeditanorum, Tapori, Turduli, etc.). The Republican period colonial foundations were officially the most prestigious cities of the early province, but this privileged status does not always appear to have conveyed a definite economic advantage, especially after the Augustan period reorganization. For example, the colony of Metellinum (Medellín, established in the 40s bce) was soon eclipsed by the later colonial foundations of Augusta Emerita and Norba Caesarina (Cáceres), located to the west and to the northwest of Metellinum, respectively (Edmondson 2011). This may be due to the fact that Metellinum was established before the province of Lusitania was created, and, with the subsequent reorganization of the Hispanias under Augustus, new axes of overland travel and supply came to the fore (Osland 2006, 28). One major factor contributing to this shift may have been the creation of an overland route linking the gold-producing regions of northwestern Hispania with the southern coast, a route frequently referred to as



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the Via de la Plata (Roldán Hervás 1971, 17–21). This road connected the important northern cities of Lucus Augusti (Lugo) and Asturica Augusta (Astorga) with the province of Lusitania via the colonies of Norba Caesarina and Augusta Emerita. From Emerita, the road continued via a major bridge across the Anas River, then traveled almost due south into Baetica, where it passed through Italica and Hispalis (Sevilla) before arriving at the major port city of Gades (Cádiz). Other important routes recorded in the ancient itineraries and preserved in paved sections also connected Emerita to Olisipo, the Atlantic coast, and cities along the southern coast of Lusitania and Baetica (Roldán Hervás 1971, 155–156). Like Metellinum, the colonial foundation of Scallabis Praesidium Iulia was somewhat overshadowed by one of its dependent cities, Felicitas Iulia Olisipo. Thanks to its prominent coastal position and control of the Tagus River mouth, Olisipo was, arguably, the second most important city of Lusitania, after the provincial capital Emerita. In fact, Olisipo’s economic advantages likely predated the creation of the Roman province, and this privileged economic position may well have attracted an unusually high population of Roman citizens, which in turn contributed to Olisipo’s status as the only municipium of Roman citizens in the province (Pliny, Natural History 4.117). The archaeological record also illustrates, to a certain extent, some of the discrepancy between theoretical (official) importance and actual levels of public and private investment: Roman occupation at Scallabis is less well attested than at lesser cities like Conimbriga, Ammaia, and even the small settlement at Eburobrittium (near Óbidos, Portugal). Some of this is surely due to ongoing inhabitation and the accident of preservation; but it is also clear that the administrative status of a city was only one factor in the level of monumentalization it experienced – through both private and public investment – and in its ongoing economic development.

Roads and Bridges Public expenditure was likely the primary impetus behind the construction and expansion of Lusitania’s extensive network of paved roadways and bridges (Mantas 2012). Roman stone-paved roads are visible throughout Portugal and Spain, in many cases preserved because their efficient routes and excellent construction quality have ensured constant use ever since the Roman period. The province also retains many spectacular Roman bridges, among them the 780 m bridge across the Anas River at Augusta Emerita (discussed later in the chapter) and the massive Trajanic bridge across the Tagus at Alcántara (just northwest of Cáceres) (Figure 34.2). In the earliest stages of Roman activity in Lusitania, some of these roads may have served a military function, facilitating supplies to Roman armies fighting the Lusitani and other recalcitrant tribes. From the first century bce onward, however, the growing economic significance of the region would have necessitated a reliable road network, connecting productive territories and mineral deposits to market centers and ports. Detailed chronological evidence is only available in those rare instances where epigraphic remains have survived, in most cases as Roman milestones that confirm the ongoing use of a particular route rather than a date for the road’s initial construction. The Alcántara Bridge is unique in offering epigraphic evidence alluding to a date and perhaps the method of financing or construction. As reconstructed from later transcriptions, inscriptions place the construction of the bridge as currently preserved in the reign of Trajan (CIL 2, 759), with at least some portion of the work carried out or financed by provincials (CIL 2, 760). The groups involved were from civitates located north and west of the bridge, some of them as far away as the banks of the Durius, suggesting that the bridge was part of a significant regional development plan. The Alcántara Bridge may thus have been designed to connect the Augustan colonies of Augusta Emerita and Bracara Augusta (Braga), which was located

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Figure 34.2  Alcántara Bridge. Photo by Harry Osland.

north of the provincial border in far western Hispania Tarraconensis (Carbonell Manils, Gimeno Pascual, and Stylow 2007). Major paved roadways linked the important cities of the province to each other and to the Atlantic and Mediterranean shipping lanes (refer to Figure 34.1). In general, the Roman period builders appear to have favored routes that ran in relatively straight lines, a task made easier by the level and consistent terrain of southern Lusitania. Long sections of many of the routes attested in the Itinerarium Antonini and the Ravenna Cosmography have been identified on the ground, and this has sometimes made it relatively straightforward to connect towns named in the ancient sources with their modern settlements or archaeological remains (Roldán Hervás 1971; Mantas 2012). Thanks to this confluence of evidence, a substantial proportion of Lusitania’s Roman towns and cities have been identified. While much work remains to be done, both on the urban centers of Lusitania and on the countryside and its villas, a reasonably comprehensive portrait of the spread of Roman cultural and economic forms is beginning to emerge from the preserved villas and cities of the Roman period.

Urbanization In general, the northern regions of Lusitania did not experience the same level of urbanization as the south. Because Mediterranean cultural influence was not directly experienced in northern Hispania until centuries later than in southern Hispania, this region was still characterized by the traditional settlement pattern of small hill-forts and vici, some of which



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nevertheless eventually operated as civitas capitals and even achieved municipal status under the Roman administration. Despite these changes in official status, northern settlements rarely experienced the level of classical-style urbanization visible at sites of central and southern Lusitania. The Roman settlement pattern in Lusitania was less intrusive on the natives than one might expect in an area of such long-standing hostilities; even the province’s colonies were primarily located in the already-urbanized southern reaches of the province, in areas where there was substantial previous contact with the broader Mediterranean world. The evidence from archaeological and historical sources argues strongly for a Roman policy of reoccupation of indigenous settlements, rather than a drive to build a new urban network in the province. It appears that most, if not all, of the important Roman towns in Lusitania were already in place by the time of Augustus’ administrative reforms late in the first century bce. Even the provincial capital, long considered an Augustan foundation ex novo, offers some evidence for preRoman occupation, though in this case there is still no firm evidence for a late Iron Age settlement immediately preceding the Roman occupation. Given the importance of economic factors – productive potential, safety, and communication – it comes as little surprise that Lusitania’s Roman cities were mostly set in preexisting settlements. This ensured that these new administrative centers stood a good chance of becoming self-sustaining economic units relatively quickly, thus also guaranteeing the ongoing viability of the Roman provincial administration and its tax structure. Economic independence and sustainability will have been particularly important in the period after any direct investment and oversight had ceased, as must have been the case, for example, with the Roman colonies and their centuriated territories. Despite this reliance on preexisting settlements, Roman cultural influence did introduce a number of architectural and urban innovations. The most dramatic was an orthogonal street plan, in some cases apparently based on the organizational pattern of Roman army camps. The imposition of such a plan would have had a dramatic impact on the overall layout of any pre-Roman settlement, but it was not a necessary step in the process through which preexisting towns were incorporated into Roman Lusitania. The town of Conimbriga, for example, preserved some of its pre-Roman layout and structures until the late first century ce. The Flavian period expansion of the Augustan period forum encroached upon some of the spaces that had formerly served as residential space in the hybrid Hispano-Roman town, confirming the use of these spaces well into the Roman period (Alarcão and Étienne [Vol. I] 1977, 27–28, 100–101). The imposition of a grid plan at Conimbriga and other towns naturally paved the way for the introduction of large-scale public structures, also on the traditional Roman model. The most important, both in terms of urban planning and in terms of the Roman cultural transformation, were central forum spaces and their associated temples. Monumental Roman temples in Lusitania date as far back as the late Republican period, the temple on the acropolis of Scallabis being the earliest known (Arruda and Viegas 1999). But the best-preserved temples in the province – such as those at Augusta Emerita, Liberalitas Iulia Ebora (Évora), and Augustobriga – all apparently date to the Julio-Claudian period, during and after the consolidation of the province under Augustus (Nogales Basarrate 2010). To date, all of the urban structures identified as fora seem to have been built with a temple as their primary focus. While there is sometimes evidence for shops and other structures associated with economic activity, the preponderance of the archaeological evidence from Lusitania suggests that central forum complexes were primarily designed as centers for cultic and civic activity. As already mentioned, southern and coastal Lusitania were relatively heavily urbanized from early times, particularly by comparison with other western regions such as northern Iberia, western and northern Gaul, and Britannia. This was no doubt due to a long history of contact with the Mediterranean world. Despite its position on the periphery of the physical landscape

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of the Roman Empire, Lusitania’s strong maritime connections meant that the province’s coastal settlements had much in common with the urban centers of the Mediterranean. Thus, Lusitania’s principal towns were already cosmopolitan centers by the early first century ce. Sometimes there is evidence for direct or indirect imperial impact on urban development at major centers, as is most obvious in the influence of Augustus’ visual propaganda on the Lusitanian capital, Emerita (below; Mateos Cruz 2006; Ayerbe Vélez, Barrientos Vera, and Palma García 2009). Marcus Agrippa and Augustus himself were honored on the dedicatory inscriptions of Emerita’s theater and amphitheater, respectively, and the epigraphic evidence confirms that both structures were originally built in the late first century bce. Although there were already important civic structures throughout Lusitania by the beginning of the first century ce, many of the province’s towns underwent a second significant phase of development during the latter part of the first century under the Flavian emperors, which continued into the early second century under Trajan and Hadrian. Historically, there has been some tendency to associate this trend with Vespasian’s grant of the Latin Rights to “all of Hispania” (Pliny, Natural History 3.30), even in cases where there is no sound archaeological evidence for doing so. While the detailed chronology of this process depends to a large extent on individual circumstances (e.g., economic conditions, personalities, and elite competition), there does seem to be an epigraphically attested increase in civic benefactions from the time of the Flavian dynasty through the reign of Hadrian. This shift is sometimes visible in the physical remains as well. Conimbriga, for example, offers strong evidence for a Flavian period tendency to embellish and expand on earlier Augustan structures. The town of Mirobriga Celtici also reached its floruit under the Flavian emperors; it was not until this time that a Roman-inspired elite class seems to have taken an active interest in reshaping the indigenous settlement there. Excavated sections of the site show that it had a forum precinct with multiple sacred structures on its acropolis, a large public bathing facility, and a circus, which was one of only three such structures to have survived within Lusitania. Capera, Eburobrittium, and possibly Augusta Emerita also seem to have experienced some revitalization during the Flavian period. When the archaeological record catches up with the epigraphy, a range of less well-known sites in Lusitania will likely contribute similar evidence for late-first-century building activity.

Augusta Emerita While Augusta Emerita, as the provincial capital, was by no means a formal model for Lusitanian urbanization under the empire, the city clearly shows many of the characteristic features that were introduced to the cities and towns of Lusitania during the first centuries bce and ce. Along with an excellent set of archaeological remains, Mérida benefits from a sound cultural heritage model (supported by the government of Extremadura and the Ayuntamiento de Mérida and managed through the Consorcio de la Ciudad Monumental de Mérida), a world-class archaeological museum (the Museo Nacional de Arte Romano), and a research branch of Spain’s Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, the Instituto de Arqueología de Mérida. As such, it seems worthwhile to present a detailed discussion of the city and its outstanding archaeological record. Augusta Emerita was established at the confluence of two waterways, on a relatively defensible position overlooking the Anas River (Dupré i Raventós 2004). From the time of its foundation, the city seems to have benefited from an unusually large and highly productive agricultural hinterland, one that even warranted the attention of the agrimensores in antiquity (Edmondson 2011, 33–35, with relevant bibliography). The centuriation of some of the city’s territory south of the Anas is still visible in the contemporary landscape, and the high



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concentration of Roman villas in the countryside surrounding Mérida is a testament to the scale and complexity of agricultural exploitation along the banks of the Anas. The primary disadvantage of the city’s position, lack of an abundant clean water supply, was remedied by an ostentatious system of (at least four) aqueducts, which drew their waters from an elaborate web of aqueducts stretching over 70 km in total, and eventually from two separate reservoirs (Méndez Grande 2010). Several of these channels entered the city from its eastern side, across the Albarregas River Valley, on a spectacular series of granite and brick arches reaching a height of over 25 m (Figure 34.3). The new Roman colony was a carefully planned city, and its layout indicates that the new foundation had no regard for any preexisting urban structure. Pre-Roman occupation on the site appears to have been concentrated on the peak at the city’s northern end, the Cerro de Calvario, but it is not yet clear how extensive the Iron Age occupation was, or even whether there was in fact a settlement on the site when the Roman colony was established late in the first century bce. The new city was laid out on a grid, taking its alignment from the line of the adjacent Anas River. The urban center was surrounded by a massive opus mixtum wall, which ran for a length of roughly 4 km and enclosed an area of just over 75 ha (Figure 34.4). The line of the wall is somewhat irregular, as it followed the natural ridges on which the city was sited, apparently in an attempt to improve the landward (eastern) side’s defenses. The western approach to the city was a bridge 780  m long, which crossed the shallow Anas basin before arriving at the city’s main gateway. This gateway is represented on coins minted soon after the city’s foundation, and excavations in the 1980s revealed the general accuracy of the double gate reproduced on these coins. The gateway was flanked by rounded towers, offering two parallel entrances (or an entrance and an exit) along the city’s main east–west roadway, the decumanus maximus. Augusta Emerita had three large forum complexes in the Roman period, at least two of which also included large temples. The particular cult served by these temples is not certain, though there is abundant epigraphic evidence throughout the city for imperial cult activity, and this is by far the most common association. The earlier of the fora, nowadays called the Colonial Forum, was located on the southeastern corner of the intersection of the decumanus

Figure 34.3  “Los Milagros” aqueduct, Mérida. Photo by Daniel Osland.

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Figure 34.4  Plan of Augusta Emerita, adapted by Daniel Osland from Barrientos Vera, Arroyo Barrantes, and Marín Gómez-Nieves 2007 fig. 11, and formatted by John Wallrodt.

maximus and the cardo maximus. It occupied the equivalent of more than four city blocks, and recent excavation work has confirmed that it was part of the city’s original plan. Today this forum space is still dominated by the remains of the so-called Templo de Diana, which owes its survival to reoccupation in the late antique period and the subsequent incorporation of its structure into a sixteenth century aristocratic residence (Figure 34.5). The Colonial Forum appears to have been the administrative heart of the city, and possibly even of the entire province of Lusitania. The Templo de Diana was built overlooking the northern end of a large rectangular courtyard, whose western side was bounded by shops and a small building that has tentatively been identified as the local curia. A large basilica, which, along with the curia, would have provided space appropriate to the activities associated with Emerita’s status as seat of a conventus and the provincial capital, lined the entire southern end of the forum courtyard. An extension, known today as the Marble Forum (Foro de los Mármoles), was later added just outside the eastern side of the Colonial Forum complex (de la Barrera Antón 2000). This is often described as an augusteum, because its decorative scheme and architectural layout offer clear parallels to those of the Forum of Augustus in Rome. This particular complex is not Augustan in date, however, and in fact it was inserted into this central city site only after at least one city block of residential structures was dismantled. Recent excavation work in the area and stylistic analyses of the sculpture point to a date in the Flavian period (Ayerbe Vélez, Barrientos Vera, and Palma García 2009, 761–769). The recent excavations have also revealed traces of what may have been a temple in the center of the Marble Forum, though much work



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Figure 34.5  “Templo de Diana,” Colonial Forum, Mérida. Photo by Daniel Osland.

remains to be done on this structure and its interpretation. A large building that may have functioned as a bathing facility eventually arose, in the later Roman period, immediately to the south of the Marble Forum. There are, moreover, additional public structures to the west of the central block of the Colonial Forum, including a possible schola, a smaller bath complex, and an Augustan period temple with similarities to the Temple of Venus Genetrix in Rome (Ayerbe Vélez, Barrientos Vera, and Palma García 2009, 790–793; Osland 2016, 77–81). The temple on Calle Viñeros is the earliest known temple in the city, but the chronology of the remaining structures west of the Colonial Forum has not yet been worked out in detail, in part because of the excellent preservation of later Roman structures on the site, inside the Centro Cultural Alcazaba. The Provincial Forum was a slightly later addition to the city than the original Colonial Forum. Excavations on the north side of the city have confirmed that, like the Marble Forum, this complex was laid out after the grid pattern of the city’s streets had been completed (Mateos Cruz 2006, 315–321, 348). Thus, four residential city blocks were demolished in order to make way for the construction of this new cult complex in the first half of the first century ce. The Provincial Forum also completely blocked off the northern extension of the cardo maximus, along with a perpendicular decumanus minor. Access to the precinct was provided through a monumental gateway, now known as the “Arco de Trajano,” which was built across the cardo maximus. This may have originally been a triple arch, but only the granite skeleton of the central arch has survived centuries of spoliation and reuse. The fact that the granite structure still shows traces of carved decorations may hint at an earlier function – for example, as a triumphal arch at an important city crossroads, and then a later

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stage of decoration with marble when the arch was transformed into the southern gate for the Provincial Forum. The Provincial Forum was a simpler complex than the Colonial Forum, consisting of a large quadriporticus around a central temple. As with the city’s other temples, definitive epigraphic confirmation of the identity of the main cult figure here has proven elusive. Pedro Mateos Cruz (2006, 337–342) has suggested, with some reservations, that the temple was dedicated to Augustus early in the reign of Tiberius. The eastern half of the temple’s granite block podium was excavated in the 1980s, but the rest of the podium remains buried under modern structures. Excavations elsewhere in the neighborhood have revealed substructures of the cryptoportico, some still visible in the basements of modern buildings, and enough of the decorative and architectural elements have been recovered to allow for a general reconstruction of the complex, its temple, and the overall architectural order (Mateos Cruz 2006, 321–336). Major investment in Augusta Emerita was not restricted to the temples and their respective forum spaces. Indeed, early versions of both the theater and amphitheater were dedicated during the final decades of the first century bce, according to the epigraphic evidence. Several monumental inscriptions from the theater and amphitheater give the names of Agrippa and Augustus, respectively, in the nominative, which may imply that they were directly involved in the construction of these entertainment facilities (Edmondson 2011, 35). Several subsequent building phases, including projects during the reign of Trajan and late in that of Constantine, are also attested in the epigraphic evidence from the theater. The amphitheater was also embellished in the later empire, when paintings depicting a staged hunt and fighting animals were added. Granite blocks preserving traces of this decorative phase were found on some of the amphitheater’s reused granite blocks and are now on display in the Museo Nacional de Arte Romano. Augusta Emerita’s circus lay about 500 m outside the walled city to the northeast; this extramural location was probably instrumental in the preservation of the entire track, along with the foundations of its seating structures. The spina and the seats themselves, like the seats of the theater and amphitheater, were largely despoiled during and after the late Roman period. At over 400 m in length, the circus was one of the largest hippodromes in the Roman world. The earliest preserved evidence from the circus dates to the reign of Tiberius, while the latest comes from the epitaph of a successful charioteer named Sabinianus at the nearby basilica of Casa Herrera, variously dated from the late fourth to the early sixth century. Some architectural renovation is attested on a pair of mid-fourth century inscriptions that were found on the site, so the circus continued in use at least until that period (Chastagnol 1976; Osland 2016, 74 and 90). The construction of a new spina with ornamental water tanks and an underground plumbing system appears to date to this fourth century phase of construction. In addition to the huge volume of evidence for public structures throughout the city of Augusta Emerita, excavations over the past decades have brought to light an extensive record of the city’s domestic contexts from the foundation of the city down through the fifth century and beyond. Knowledge of the city’s grid-pattern street system is enhanced by, and in turn informs, our understanding of the houses in which the Roman inhabitants lived (Alba Calzado 2002). The streets were almost all paved with irregular diorite paving stones beginning in the early imperial period, and later maintenance and renovation work seems to have involved the use of smaller versions of the same local material. An extensive network of cloacae under the streets gathered groundwater and wastes into transverse channels that led out into the Anas River along the city’s west side. During the first two centuries of Roman occupation, the streets themselves were flanked on either side by covered sidewalks that ranged from 2.5 to 3 m in width, offering safe passage to pedestrians while also providing some protection from the elements; a similar system of porticoed sidewalks is beginning to be uncovered at the site



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of Ammaia. These sidewalks were incorporated into the neighboring houses over the course of the third and fourth centuries. Dozens of houses from that later Roman period have been uncovered, many of them embellished with elaborate paintings, mosaics, and marble decorations. Even the villas of the Lusitanian countryside, a significant proportion of which are concentrated in the territory of Emerita and its neighboring colonies of Norba Caesarina to the north and Metellinum to the east, offer compelling evidence for an unprecedented level of private investment during the fourth century. The peristyle houses of this period – both rural and urban – display many of the characteristics typical of the elite housing of the late Roman world, which may include, in addition to extensive decorations, private bathing facilities, interior fountains, apsidal dining rooms, and/or large reception halls. As has already been observed, Augusta Emerita was the provincial capital but not necessarily intended as a model for the cities of Lusitania. Many of the province’s cities, even those re-founded as colonies, retained some of their pre-Roman layout and native urban characteristics. There appears to have been very little local impetus to compel the wholesale adoption of Roman urban forms. Nevertheless, certain key features of Emerita do appear to have offered inspiration for, if indeed not a direct influence over, the architectural decisions of other cities of the province. For example, the Colonial Forum may have served as a basic template for similar complexes in other cities of the province, and there are clear parallels between the Templo de Diana in Emerita and the granite temples of Augustobriga and Ebora. In addition, the decorative scheme of the theater of Metellinum appears to have been derived from the theater of Emerita, following the same general architectural order and with painted stucco in a style and color similar to that of the provincial capital (Osland 2006, 29–30).

Felicitas Iulia Olisipo Unlike the new colonial foundation of Augusta Emerita, Olisipo was one of the region’s most important pre-Roman settlements, having been established as a major port long before the Romans first took an interest in the city, during the Lusitanian revolt led by Viriathus in the mid-second century bce (Osland 2006, 19). As an organic urban creation, Olisipo thus has a very different trajectory from the somewhat artificial circumstances surrounding the creation of the Lusitanian capital. As was previously mentioned, Olisipo’s privileged status as a municipality of Roman citizens, while the remainder of Lusitania’s pre-Flavian municipia were instead given the more limited “Latin rights,” was likely due to a combination of factors (Pliny, Natural History 3.30 and 4.117). The city’s location, on a hill overlooking the mouth of the Tagus River, with a protected seaport and excellent communications inland, surely contributed to its economic success even before the arrival of the Romans. This likely attracted a large population of Romans and non-Romans even before the creation of the province of Lusitania, and this mixed urban population in turn ensured that the city retained an elevated status within the new administrative scheme during the reign of Augustus. The city is ideally sited near the mouth of the Tagus, but continuous habitation and a series of highly destructive earthquakes have contributed to the loss of much of the city’s Roman period evidence. Some evidence for pre-Roman and Roman occupation is concentrated in the Alfama neighborhood, now home to the Medieval Castelo de São Jorge, and the Baixa, which extends southward from the Praça do Rossio down to the Praça do Commércio. Recent excavation work slightly to the west of the Baixa, near the Cais do Sodré train station (Praça D. Luís I), has uncovered extensive remains of some of the city’s Roman period port installations, dating from the first through fifth centuries ce. Fragmentary evidence from the central downtown area has allowed the reconstruction of a general plan of the Roman city, which extended along the ancient shoreline from the base

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of the Colina de São Jorge to the west (Mantas 2012, 174–175). Several Roman period cemeteries have been discovered on what must have been the outskirts of the settlement, and a grid pattern is beginning to emerge from the preserved sections of intramural roads. Traces of the spina of the hippodrome, a massive underground concrete cryptoportico structure, industrial installations probably related to fish-salting operations, and some domestic complexes have all survived in the Baixa. The cryptoportico, or “galerias Romanas da Rua da Prata,” is an extensive series of vaulted galleries likely designed to provide a stable rectangular platform at or very near the Roman period coastline. The nature of the structure for which this served as a foundation is unknown, but a public function seems certain, perhaps linked to storage and warehouse facilities, an expansive bath complex, or even a multistory residential block. A similar cryptoportico from the acropolis of Aeminium has been convincingly associated with a forum and temple complex, and it is not impossible that a similar function was served by the cryptoportico of Olisipo. The complete reconstruction of this part of the city in the wake of the total destruction caused by the 1755 earthquake makes it extremely unlikely that any physical traces of the structure(s) that stood atop this cryptoportico will ever be identified. Excavations on the southern slope of the castle’s hill revealed traces of Roman occupation in the cloisters of the Sé de Lisboa, and across the street to the north, a large section of the city’s Roman theater has recently been re-excavated for incorporation into the Museo do Teatro Romano de Lisboa. Like Lusitania’s other known theaters, this complex took advantage of the slope of the hillside to accommodate the seating area, which faced southwest. The theater was renovated late in the Julio-Claudian period, and the epigraphic and decorative remains that have survived are primarily from this phase.

Town Planning Several of Lusitania’s other cities show clear evidence of having been neatly planned foundations, including Ammaia, Capera, Caesarobriga (Talavera de la Reina, Spain), Conimbriga, Eburobrittium, and Tomar (the Portuguese city built over what was probably Roman Sellium). Many of the sites that preserve clear evidence of an orthogonal grid pattern were abandoned after the Roman period, lying vacant for centuries and, as a result, suffering less interference and reuse than some of the other more prominent centers of Portugal and western Spain. Compelling work has been done on several other cities that did experience more prolonged occupation – for example at Aeminium, Balsa, Pax Iulia, Salmantica (Salamanca), Ebora, and Ossonoba – and a grid pattern can occasionally be extrapolated even from quite limited excavation data (Luís Fraga da Silva on arkeotavira.com; Nogales Basarrate 2010; Mantas 2012). It seems likely that pre-Roman settlements were sometimes reconfigured during the first century of the Roman Empire, in order to accommodate the wishes of Romans and the local elite who wanted to contribute Roman style public structures to their cities. Rome might thus have exerted both direct and indirect pressures on the ways that indigenous settlements developed from the time of Augustus onward. The urban “kit” of Lusitanian cities appears to have been relatively limited. Many of the early Roman foundations had city walls: Ammaia, Augusta Emerita, Caesarobriga, Caurium (Coria, Spain), Civitas Igaeditanorum (Idanha-a-Velha, Portugal), Conimbriga, Ebora, Norba Caesarina, Olisipo, Pax Iulia, Salmantica, and Viseu/Interamnienses (on the chronology of the city walls of Lusitania, see de Man 2011). Defensive walls are likely to have been even more widespread than current evidence demonstrates, as spoliation and reuse have frequently removed these structures from the archaeological record. These would have served the practical function of improving the city’s defenses, but the construction of city walls also emphasized the status and importance of cities that had recently been incorporated into a



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new administrative and cultural system. Though local variables were naturally at work in the decision to fortify a city, the walls might say as much about the importance and wealth of a local elite class as they did about the city’s ability to defend itself against attack, particularly after the Romans had established total control over the Iberian Peninsula late in the first century bce. Many of Lusitania’s cities and towns also had fora and forum temples, both features that appear to have been particularly common from the Flavian period onward, perhaps in connection with the Flavian grant of municipal status to many of the settlements in Hispania. For example, even relatively insignificant towns like Eburobrittium or Sellium had such complexes by the later first century. Ongoing urban activity since Roman times has resulted in a relatively limited picture of most cities’ forum spaces, but those of abandoned sites like Ammaia, Capera, Eburobrittium, and Conimbriga are more or less fully preserved, at least in plan. Conimbriga’s forum is particularly well known, thanks to the city’s abandonment after the fifth century and the comprehensive excavation of this part of the city in the 1960s and 1970s. The evidence here indicates that the early first century forum underwent a substantial reconstruction during the Flavian period, resulting in a complex that still followed the general lines of the original (Alarcão and Étienne [Vol. I] 1977, 100–101). Like the forum at Conimbriga, the fora of Ammaia, Capera, and Eburobrittium are all reminiscent of the Forum of Julius Caesar in Rome, with a rectangular format and a forum temple located on one end of an open courtyard. A similar format can be posited, on much more fragmentary remains, at other Lusitanian cities, such as Civitas Igaeditanorum, Emerita, Mirobriga Celtici, Pax Iulia, and Salacia (Alcácer do Sal, Portugal). Other cities where centercity forum spaces have been postulated – in some cases on the basis of fragmentary central city temple remains – include Aeminium, Civitas Aravorum (Marialva, Portugal), Ebora, Myrtilis, and Ossonoba (cf. the site-specific works in Nogales Basarrate 2010). Temples have been identified at several other Lusitanian sites, including Torre de Almofala, which appears to have had some association with the Civitas Cobelcorum, and Augustobriga, whose settlement is now submerged under a reservoir along the Tagus River. It is not clear whether these were forum temples whose forum simply has not been identified or, instead, free-standing temples or so-called capitolia, as may have been the case, for example, with the temple at Scallabis and the Augustan period temple on Calle Viñeros in Emerita. Temple-based Roman-style cult activity was not necessarily limited to the urban centers of the province, or even the heavily urbanized areas south of the Tagus River. More fragmentary temple remains also survive in small towns such as Orjais (Covilhã, Portugal) and Santana do Campo (Arraiolos, Portugal). Scant epigraphic remains from the latter may point to ongoing pre-Roman cult at the site, with a reference to a deity “Carneus Calanticensis” on at least one now lost inscription (Alarcão 1988 Vol. II.3, 157). The construction of a theater does not seem to have been essential to the Roman period inhabitants of Lusitania. To date, of the more than fifty towns and cities of Roman Lusitania, only three – Olisipo, Metellinum, and Emerita – have confirmed architectural remains of stone theaters, and a further four – Ossonoba, Balsa, Ebora, and Pax Iulia – preserve possible evidence for theatrical installations. All of these were important Roman cities, whether because of their colonial or municipal status or because of their position as major ports and flourishing economic centers. The respective topographies of Olisipo, Metellinum, and Emerita were also particularly conducive to building a stone theater into a hillside, which may be why these three have survived. Amphitheaters are slightly better attested in the Lusitanian archaeological record; architectural remains have been identified at Augusta Emerita, Conimbriga, Capera, and Bobadela, while others are likely to have stood in both Pax Iulia and Balsa. In the case of both theaters and amphitheaters, it is likely that further examples will eventually be identified at some of the less prominent sites of northern and central Lusitania. These structures

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could be erected with relatively ephemeral materials on a solid foundation, so the survival and identification of such entertainment facilities is highly dependent on the level of subsequent use of the site and the random survival of epigraphic remains. Mirobriga Celtici is a good illustration of the difficulties that can arise in identifying even large-scale public monuments. Mirobriga is one of only three Lusitanian cities where physical remains of a Roman hippodrome survive, even though the city was never a particularly important administrative center or a point of major urban concentration. The other circuses of Lusitania were located in Olisipo, a major port city and municipium of Roman citizens, and in Emerita, a Roman colony and the provincial capital. The circus at Mirobriga was likely primarily intended to be a training course, which helps to explain why such a small settlement might have possessed such an expensive complex (Leonard and Slane 1988). At least one further circus is attested at the site of Balsa (through epigraphic references), and there are likely to have been others in the province, given the prominence of Lusitanian horses and the emphasis placed on the races by the late Roman aristocracy, many of whose homes were decorated with mosaic floors that celebrate horses and chariot racing.

Economy Roman involvement in Lusitania, broadly defined, first emerged as a response to the activities of Carthage in the area during the Punic Wars. Subsequently, and more thoroughly, Rome’s interest turned to the region’s vast agricultural territories, its mineral wealth, and the bounty of its coastal fisheries. Between the late Republican period and the first century ce, this focus seems to have shifted from economic and military exploitation to a later desire to incorporate not just Lusitania but the entire peninsula into the regular administrative scheme of the Roman Empire. This brought Lusitania’s substantial economic potential into Rome’s tax base and, at the same time, tied the cities of the province into the broader economic network of the empire. Lusitania’s primary exports in the Roman period included garum, which had been produced in the territory at least from the fifth century bce, olive oil, and wine, the latter probably in more limited quantities (Edmondson 1987; Reynolds 2010, 15–55). Desire for minerals seems to have driven Roman involvement in the northern areas of Lusitania, where the rivers were reported by ancient authors to have run with gold (de Francisco Martín 1996, 297–310). Indeed, the gold of the Tagus River had become something of a commonplace by the first century ce, and references to the aurifer Tagus occur in Catullus (29.19), Strabo (Geography 3.3.4–5), Ovid (Amores 1.15.34; Metamorphoses 2.251), Pomponius Mela (3.8), Seneca (Thyestes 354), Lucan (7.755), Pliny the Elder (Natural History 4.115), Silius Italicus (1.155, 16.450 and 560), Martial (1.49.15, 10.17.4, 10.96.3), and Juvenal (3.55). Despite this reputation for alluvial gold, there is virtually no evidence for Roman period exploitation of this material along the Tagus, except perhaps in the territory of Civitas Igaeditanorum (cf. d’Encarnação et al. 2011). Instead, the bulk of the archaeological evidence for Roman mining activity comes from farther north, in the region of León (Las Médulas, in particular) and from southern Lusitania and Baetica, where there were substantial deposits of tin, copper, lead, and silver (Lowe 2009, 102–109). After the Augustan reorganization in the late first century bce, the primary gold-producing regions of northwestern Hispania were allocated to Tarraconensis. From that time forward, the primary mining activity in Lusitania seems to have been concentrated in the south, at places like Vipasca (Aljustrel, Portugal) and Minas de São Domingos. Archaeological remains from these Roman workings show an extremely high level of sophistication and technological investment in the extraction of copper and silver, in particular (de Francisco Martín 1996, 299–304; Edmondson 1987).



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Where olive oil, wine, and wheat can be assumed to be important products of Lusitania, the production of the hugely popular fish sauce garum is based on clear archaeological evidence (Edmondson 1987). Large-scale industrial installations for its production have been found all along the southern coast of Portugal, and there were additional major installations in and around Olisipo and along the Atlantic coast southward to the mouth of the Sado River (Lagóstena Barrios 2001, 41–91). Many of these production centers have also provided evidence for the production of amphorae used to transport fish products. The large quantity of amphora production sites in the Tejo Delta and along the mouth of the Sado River may indicate that these regions were important trans-shipment areas, where garum and other regional products, such as oil and wine, could be transferred into amphorae for long-distance shipping. An extensive seriation of Lusitanian amphorae (as differentiated from the Baetican series) has begun to take shape, and it is primarily through the export of these products that we are able to track the extent of Lusitanian shipping contacts. To judge from the export evidence, Lusitanian wine and olive oil were not as popular as those of Baetica, which make up the bulk of the material thus far identified in Rome’s Monte Testaccio. Nevertheless, amphorae that carried Lusitanian garum have been found in Britain, Gaul, Germany, and ports all around the Mediterranean, showing its widespread appeal throughout the Roman Empire (Fabião 2008; Lowe 2009, 155–161; Reynolds 2010, 39–48). The extent to which grain was exported remains unclear, as most of our information derives only from the amphora evidence. We do know, however, that grain from Hispania (primarily the province of Baetica) was a key component of the annona throughout the imperial period. The establishment of five Roman colonies in Lusitania, all in the second half of the first century bce, indicates that the Romans were well aware of the agricultural potential of the region from the first century bce onward. All of the colonies were set in the fertile and densely populated areas from the Tagus River basin southward, which had experienced the longest contact with Rome and the Mediterranean world more broadly. The siting of these colonies may come as something of a surprise, given the mineral wealth of Lusitania and the excellent positioning of several of its port cities, such as Olisipo, Portus Cale, Balsa, and Ossonoba. However, at least three of the colonies were clearly ideological foundations, tied directly to the successes of Octavian/Augustus, as attested by epithets like Pax Liberalitas Iulia, Scallabis Praesidium Iulium, and Iulia Augusta Emerita. The establishment of these colonies appears to have coincided chronologically with propagandistic modifications to the names of other important preexisting cities – Felicitas Iulia Olisipo, Myrtilis Iulia, and Liberalitas Iulia Ebora, for example. These new city names all reflect the name of Julius Caesar, and there has sometimes been a temptation to associate the foundation of the colonies, in particular, with the Imperator himself. However, the enrollment of citizens into the Galeria and Papiria (Emerita) tribes seems to point to a date after c. 30 bce; only the citizens of Scallabis seem to have been primarily associated with the Sergia tribe favored at times by Julius Caesar, Mark Antony, and Octavian (Osland 2006, 15, 19, and 27–28, with bibliography).

Villas Lusitania preserves the remains of hundreds of Roman period villas, ranging in size from a small cluster of simple structures to sprawling complexes of well-decorated and highly diverse buildings like those at Milreu, São Cucufate, Torre de Palma, and Torre Águila. These villas are indicative of the economic impact of incorporation into the Roman world. Lusitania’s villas have not been treated comprehensively since Jean-Gerard Gorge’s excellent Les villas hispano-romaines appeared (Gorges 1979). Since then, a number of new sites have been

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identified, and in some cases excavations have revealed full industrial production complexes. These complexes illustrate the high level of economic success enjoyed by at least some of the province’s wealthy landowners, and the diversity of the remains indicates the diversity of production, particularly in the southern half of the province. A large proportion of these villas is concentrated in the immediate territories of the colonies, particularly Norba Caesarina, Metellinum, Augusta Emerita, and Pax Iulia. This may be due, at least in part, to the fact that retired Italian soldiers would have expected to cultivate the usual Italian products on their land grants around these colonies, which were, quite naturally, sited in particularly productive areas. Close proximity to the colonies also offered more immediate access to the markets of the province and to the major trade routes, all of which contributed to the success and ongoing occupation of these villas in colonial territories. If, as seems likely, the wealthier landowners eventually came to own multiple properties, including a home in the nearby colony, this also provided access to local office holding, which meant that they could secure advantages for themselves and their associates, while at the same time reaping the benefits of the wealthy colonial hinterland. A general chronological progression can be discerned from the archaeological evidence of villas, which frequently began as simple agricultural outposts before developing, in many cases, into full economic and industrial complexes in the course of the second and third centuries. The expansive building projects from Torre de Palma, for example, illustrate the wide-ranging economic activities of property owners. Moreover, the decorative and architectural features of this and other villas in southern and central Lusitania, particularly in their fourth-century phases, illustrate the wealth of these landowners, and the culturally informed decisions of both patrons and decorators. An extraordinary collection of classicizing marble statuary, for example, has been brought to light at the villa of Quinta das Longas, and the mosaics of urban and rural villas around Emerita and the Alentejo of Portugal demonstrate a level of artistic competence and cultural awareness on a par with much of the late Roman world. It was not until the late fourth and even fifth centuries that the large-scale production centers of the Lusitanian countryside began to lose some of their original functions, possibly as a result of the concentration of ownership within a smaller elite class than in previous periods (Chavarría Arnau 2007).

Epigraphic Evidence Lusitania offers a huge epigraphic record, from before the arrival of the Romans down through the late antique period. The largest collections come from some of the important administrative centers, like Augusta Emerita, Norba Caesarina, and Pax Iulia, while other major concentrations of Latin inscriptions have been found at regional economic centers like Civitas Igaeditanorum, Myrtilis, and Balsa. These were all important cities, but there are other smaller collections of both religious and funerary inscriptions from rural sanctuaries and small towns scattered throughout the province, including some bearing the names of indigenous deities and, occasionally, non-Latin texts (including especially the “Language of the Southwest”). The advantages (economic, social, and political) available to individuals who adapted to the new administrative and urban realities introduced by the Romans ultimately facilitated a widespread urbanizing movement during the first century ce. Native religious practices appear most often to have been linked to rural, undeveloped sanctuaries, which explains the virtual absence of any native cult centers or indigenous architectural elements in any of the heavily Romanized cities of the province. In addition, Roman religious practice proved to be highly accommodating of native activity and deities, readily co-opting outsiders into the familiar pattern



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whenever possible. Thus, for example, the native goddess Ataecina is sometimes linked with Proserpina, a Roman version of the goddess Persephone. In fact, only a few native cults appear to have survived into the Roman period, among which those of Ataecina and Endovellicus are the most common (see, e.g., the collected works in Ribeiro 2002). Both of these cults were maintained in the central portion of Lusitania, within the area of influence of Augusta Emerita and Ebora, respectively. The cults differed from each other, however, in that there was a defined sanctuary of Endovellicus located along one of the major routes eastward from Ebora to Augusta Emerita, while the cult of Ataecina was not limited to a specific sanctuary or territory. Neither was far enough from the provincial capital to make it invisible to the administration, which raises questions as to how they survived, even flourished, in competition with other more traditional Roman cults. One explanation is that neither of these deities was fully identified with others of the Roman pantheon, and thus they filled existing gaps in Roman religious practice without major cultic changes or name modifications. On the other hand, the very survival of evidence for these cult practices depends, to a large degree, on the use of traditional Roman methods such as inscriptions and material dedications. This evidence is, therefore, another testament to the continued diversity of the hybrid Hispano-Roman society that existed well into the Roman period.

Acknowledgments and Further Information It is, naturally, impossible to credit everyone whose efforts have contributed to the vast wealth of information now available on the province of Lusitania, especially in a short work such as this one. I am extremely grateful to all of my colleagues, particularly those of Spain and Portugal, whose publications have been invaluable to my own, but, for reasons of space and time, could not be included among the works cited. I have tried to offer a broad overview of some of the major aspects of the Roman evidence from Lusitania, from English-language sources wherever possible. In doing so, I have been forced to omit even brief references to a number of sites where interesting evidence has been uncovered or where ongoing work promises to significantly alter our knowledge of specific aspects of life in Roman Lusitania. Fortunately, due to the massive increase in digitally available content, it will prove quite a straightforward task for interested readers to gather additional source material through simple web and bibliographic searches.

Biographical Note Daniel Osland is senior lecturer in Classics at the University of Otago, New Zealand. He has excavated in Portugal and Spain, and his current research focuses on Augusta Emerita in the Roman and post-Roman periods. His book, The Early Roman Cities of Lusitania, was published by British Archaeological Reports in 2006.

Abbreviations CIL = Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum. 1823–. Edited by Deutsche Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin. Paris: A. Franck.

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REFERENCES Alarcão, Jorge de. 1988. Roman Portugal. Warminster: Aris and Phillips. Alarcão, Jorge de, Robert Étienne, Isabele de Matos Pereira de Mello, Jean-Pierre Bost, Jean Hiernard, Manuela Delgado, Françoise Mayet, and Adilia Montinho de Alarcâo. 1974–1979. Fouilles de Conimbriga. vols. I–VII. Paris: E. de Boccard. Alba Calzado, Miguel. 2002. “Datos para la reconstrucción del paisaje urbano de Emerita: las calles porticadas desde la etapa romana a la visigoda.” Mérida excavaciones arqueológicas, 2000, no. 6: 371–396. Arruda, Ana Margarida. 2008. “Fenícios e Púnicos em Portugal: problemas e perspectivas.” In Nuevas perspectivas II: la arqueología fenicia y púnica en la Península Ibérica, edited by Juan-Pablo Vita and José Ángel Zamora López, Cuadernos de Arqueología Mediterránea 18, 13–23. Barcelona: Universidad Pompeu Fabra. Arruda, Ana Margarida, and Catarina Viegas. 1999. “The Roman Temple of Scallabis.” Journal of Iberian Archaeology, 1: 185–224. Ayerbe Vélez, Rocio, Teresa Barrientos Vera, and Félix Palma García, eds. 2009. El foro de Augusta Emerita: Génesis y evolución de sus recintos monumentales. Anejos de Archivo Español de Arqueología LIII. Mérida: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas; Instituto de Arqueología de Mérida. Barrientos Vera, Teresa, Isidoro Arroyo Barrantes, and Berta Marín Gómez-Nieves. 2007. “Proyecto de renovación del sistema de gestión de datos arqueológicos en el Consorcio: el SIG de patrimonio emeritense (1a fase: 2004–2007). Diseño y configuración.” Mérida excavaciones arqueológicas, 10 (2004): 551–575. Carbonell Manils, Joan, Helena Gimeno Pascual, and Armin Stylow. 2007. “Pons Traiani, Qantara Es-Saif, Puente de Alcántara. Problemas de Epigrafía, filología e historia.” In XII Congressus internationalis epigrafiae graecae et latinae (Barcelona, 3–8 Septembris 2002), edited by Marc Mayer i Olivé, Giulia Baratta, and Alejandra Guzmán Almagro, 247–258. Barcelona: Institut d’Estudis Catalans; Universitat de Barcelona; Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona. Chastagnol, André. 1976. “Les inscriptions constantiniennes du cirque de Mérida.” Mélanges de l’École française de Rome, Antiquité, 88: 259–276. Chavarría Arnau, Alexandra. 2007. El final de las villae en Hispania (siglos IV-VII D.C.). Bibliothèque de l’Antiquité Tardive 7. Turnhout: Brepols. CNRS. 1990. Les Villes de Lusitanie romaine: hiérarchies et territoires. Table ronde internationale du CNRS, Talence, le 8–9 décembre 1988. Paris: Editions du Centre national de la recherche scientifique. Corsi, Cristina, and Frank Vermeulen, eds. 2012. Ammaia I: The Survey. A Romano-Lusitanian Townscape Revealed. Archaeological Reports Ghent University (ARGU) 8. Ghent: Academia Press. Curchin, Leonard 2004. The Romanization of Central Spain. London: Routledge. d’Encarnação, José, Pedro Salvado, Carlos Batata, and Joaquim Batista. 2011. “Gestão aurífera e afirmação epigráfica: O caso de Tiberius Claudius Rufus (CIL II 5132) de Idanha-a-Velha.” In Actas do VI Simpósio sobre Mineração e Metalurgia Históricas no Sudoeste Europeu, edited by Carlos Batata, 109–121. Abrantes: Gráfica Almondina. de Francisco Martín, Julián. 1996. Conquista y romanización de Lusitania. Salamanca: Universidad de Salamanca. de Man, Adrian. 2011. Defesas urbanas tardías da Lusitânia. Studia Lusitana 6. Mérida: Museo Nacional de Arte Romano. de la Barrera Antón, José Luís. 2000. La decoración arquitectónica de los foros de Augusta Emerita. Bibliotheca Archaeologica 25. Rome: L’Erma di Bretschneider. Dupré i Raventós, Xavier, ed. 2004. Las capitales provinciales de Hispania, 3 vols. Mérida: Colonia Augusta Emerita. Rome: L’Erma di Bretschneider. Edmondson, Jonathan. 1987. Two Industries in Roman Lusitania: Mining and Garum Production. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Edmondson, Jonathan. 2011. “‘A Tale of Two Colonies’: Augusta Emerita (Mérida) and Metellinum (Medellín) in Roman Lusitania.” In Roman Colonies in the First Century of Their Foundation, edited by Rebecca Sweetman, 32–54. Oxford: Oxbow Books.



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Fabião, Carlos. 2008. “Las ánforas de Lusitania.” In Cerámicas hispanorromanas: un estado de la cuestión, edited by Darío Bernal Casasola and Albert Ribera i Lacomba, 726–745. Cádiz: Universidad de Cádiz. Gorges, Jean-Gérard. 1979. Les villas hispano-romaines. Paris: Centre national de la recherche scientifique. Lagóstena Barrios, Lázaro. 2001. La producción de salsas y conservas de pescado en la Hispania Romana. Barcelona: Universitat de Barcelona. Leonard, Albert, and Kathleen Warner Slane. 1988. “The Excavations in the Circus.” In Mirobriga: Investigations at an Iron Age and Roman Site in Southern Portugal by the University of Missouri– Columbia, 1981–1986, edited by William Biers, 31–47, British Archaeological Reports International Series 451. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Lowe, Benedict. 2009. Roman Iberia: Economy, Society and Culture. London: Duckworth. Mantas, Vasco Gil. 2012. As Vias Romanas da Lusitânia. Studia Lusitana 7. Mérida: Museo Nacional de Arte Romano. Mateos Cruz, Pedro, ed. 2006. El “foro provincial” de Augusta Emerita: un conjunto monumental de culto imperial. Anejos de Archivo Español de Arqueología XLII. Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas; Instituto de Arqueología de Mérida. Méndez Grande, Guadalupe. 2010. “Las conducciones de Augusta Emerita: hallazgos de un cuarto acueducto y de una canalización en la zona norte de la ciudad.” Anas, 23: 137–165. Nogales Basarrate, Trinidad, ed. 2010. Ciudad y foro en Lusitania Romana = Cidade e foro na Lusitânia Romana. Studia Lusitana 4. Mérida: Museo Nacional de Arte Romano. Osland, Daniel. 2006. The Early Roman Cities of Lusitania. British Archaeological Reports International Series 1519. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Osland, Daniel. 2016. “Abuse or Reuse? Public Space in Late Antique Emerita.” American Journal of Archaeology, 120, no. 1: 67–97. Radio Past. 2013. Ammaia. A Roman Town in Lusitania. Évora: Universidade de Évora. Reynolds, Paul. 2010. Hispania and the Roman Mediterranean, AD 100–700: Ceramics and Trade. London: Duckworth. Ribeiro, José Cardim, ed. 2002. Religiões da Lusitânia: Loquuntur saxa. Lisboa: Ministério da Cultura; Instituto Português de Museus; Museu Nacional de Arqueologia. Richardson, John. 1986. Hispaniae: Spain and the Development of Roman Imperialism, 218–82 B.C. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Roldán Hervás, José Manuel. 1971. Iter ab Emerita Asturicam: el Camino de la Plata. Salamanca: Universidad de Salamanca.

CHAPTER 35

Hispania Citerior and Hispania Baetica Isabel Rodà and Olivia Rodríguez Gutiérrez Translated by Daniel Osland

Introduction This chapter will offer a synthesis of recent research on the first centuries of the Roman Empire in the provinces of Hispania Citerior and Baetica (Galsterer 1971; Keay 1988, 1998; Curchin 1991; Trillmich, von Hesberg, and Nünnerich-Asmus 1993; Richardson 1996; Andreu, Cabrero, and Rodà 2009; Le Roux 2010; Remesal 2011; Rodríguez Gutiérrez 2011; Sánchez López and Bustamante-Álvarez 2019). Two themes will be of special significance: first, Augustus’ final pacification of the entire Iberian Peninsula, allowing the extension and consolidation of a system of administration that had already begun to take shape in the late Republican period; second, the reign of the emperors from Baetica, Trajan and Hadrian, which can be seen as both a “golden age” and as a time of transition, when once powerful cities saw the erosion of their administrative importance and, consequently, the decline of some of their most evocative features (Caballos 2018). In both Baetica and Citerior, Roman culture was introduced into a land of diverse cultural traditions, at different stages of development in urbanization and social structure. The central and eastern reaches of Iberia already had a longstanding urban tradition; while traditional scholarship has seen this as a product of “Romanization,” a unidirectional process in which Rome is the civilizing force, current research emphasizes the hybrid character of HispanoRoman society (Bendala 2006; Rodríguez Gutiérrez 2019). Out of the initial Roman division of Hispania into Citerior and Ulterior in 197 bce (Rodà 2013), Augustus created three provinces that lasted for most of the imperial period: Citerior/ Tarraconensis, Ulterior Baetica, and Ulterior Lusitania (Figure 35.1). The boundary between Citerior and Baetica ran northwest to southeast, along a line drawn between the mining districts of Sisapo (modern Almadén) and Castulo (modern Linares-La Carolina). This was not

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Figure 35.1  Map of the administrative organization of the Hispaniae in Augustan times. By Oliva Rodríguez Gutiérrez, formatted by John Wallrodt.

a simple territorial rearrangement: Baetica – conquered early on and in cultural harmony with Rome, and therefore no real threat to Roman authority – was placed under senatorial control, governed by a proconsular praetor and a quaestor. Citerior, which contained the mining districts in the mountains of upper Andalucia and Castulo, came under direct imperial control. Thus, Augustus ensured his direct oversight of this major mining region, though later he simply declared all the mines of the empire to be imperial property. The formation of these provinces was not straightforward, however. After 19 bce, the regions of Asturia and Gallaecia were at first placed in the province of Lusitania, while Cantabria was allotted to Citerior, which may have allowed Agrippa to separate the warring tribes of the Astures and the Cantabri. It was only with these tribes’ conquest that this goldproducing region in the Iberian northwest was definitively incorporated into Citerior. Recent discoveries in this area illuminate the first stages of provincial organization, some of which were not entirely successful. For example, a bronze tablet known as the Bierzo or Bembibre Bronze preserves a decree of 15 bce in which Augustus mentions the provincia Transduriana, an otherwise unknown administrative division (Alföldy 2000). A second bronze tablet, found at O Caurel and dated to 1 ce, mentions another otherwise unknown juridical division, or conventus, Ara Augusta, perhaps centered on the town of Noega (modern Campa de Torres, Gijón), whose privileged position is further illustrated by a lighthouse likely built by Calpurnius Piso in 9–10 ce (Fernández Ochoa and Morillo 1994; Fernández Ochoa, Morillo, and Villa 2005; Ozcáriz 2013). Even later inscriptions provide key information about Iberia’s provincial organization: a document from the time of Caracalla from Lavinium in Italy refers to a Provincia Hispania Superior, the region of Gallaecia temporarily excised from Citerior (Alföldy 2002). Although Citerior and Tarraconensis have traditionally been treated as synonymous, this is not technically accurate. In the imperial period, it was provincia Hispania Citerior, the

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nearest to Rome, as can be ascertained from the rich epigraphic record from the capital, Tarraco (CIL 22/14, Tarraco). The adjectival form, Tarraconensis, applies only to the conventus whose seat was at Tarraco, until the province was subdivided under Diocletian, and one part named Tarraconensis. Baetica had a particularly longstanding tradition of urban settlement, as can be seen from the advanced civic organization reflected in a number of juridical bronze documents that have survived (Caballos 2006: González Fernández 2008). Four of these are of particular significance: the tabula Siarensis, which includes the funerary honors of Germanicus; the copies of the senatus consultum of Gnaeus Calpurnius Piso senior; the lex Colonia Genetiva (Urso, Osuna) of 44 bce; and the different surviving examples of the lex Flavia Municipalis (Malaca, Salpensa, Irni). We shall return to these last documents in the discussion of the Flavian period. Two great rivers, the Baetis (modern Guadalquivir) and Iberus (Ebro), provided Baetica and Citerior, respectively, with fertile heartlands as well as routes for the transport of goods and communication. The spread of cultural knowledge along both rivers is shown by the architectural traditions, decorative preferences, and technological innovations of the settlements along their banks.

Resources and Production Metals From very early in its human history, the Iberian Peninsula was a meeting point for various cultural currents of the Atlantic and Mediterranean worlds. The Phoenicians arrived on Iberian shores as early as the ninth century bce, when this was still practically the edge of the known world, seeking the major Iberian mineral deposits that contributed to the broader Mediterranean and Atlantic circulation routes; those same resources would become a driving force in Roman activity in Hispania in later periods. A very intensive exploitation of ore deposits (Domergue 1990; Orejas and Rico 2012) took off during the reign of Augustus. During Augustus’ reign, the exploitation of lead and silver deposits in the district of Cartagena-Mazarrón expanded dramatically, and Agrippa seems to have had a personal hand in this expansion (Rodà 2004). The important deposits in the Sierra Morena also saw heightened activity, at the major production center of Sisapo, in the territory of Almadén (Ciudad Real) (Fernández Ochoa et al. 2002). The mineral wealth of the Iberian south – the silver and copper from Riotinto in particular – left via the ports at Gades and Onoba (Huelva) (Campos 2009; Campos and Bermejo 2017); the last is now a cultural heritage protection area due to the traces left by mining activity across more than two millennia. Roman interest in northwestern Iberia focused on its enormous gold deposits from early on, especially the spectacular lode at Las Médulas (El Bierzo, León) (Sánchez-Palencia 2000). Decades of research in this area and at the nearby mines of Vilavilleiro have allowed scholars to identify a complex and highly profitable Roman site hierarchy. This went from the indigenous settlements, where ore was extracted and processed (Orellán, Castro de Corporales, Pelòu), to the residences of Roman administrators, such as the domus at Las Pedreiras del Lago (Carucedo) and another more recently excavated house inside the castro of Chao Samartín (Grandas de Salime).

Stone There is growing evidence for the significant exploitation of stone quarries for major architectural projects from at least Augustus’ reign (Nogales and Beltrán 2007; Àlvarez et al. 2009; García-Entero 2013; Gutiérrez Garcia-M. and Rouillard 2018), though the epigraphic



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evidence points to even earlier activity; for example, the pedra d’Alcover used for an inscription of Pompey the Great in Tarragona (CIL 22/14, 991). In some cities (e.g., Carteia and Baelo Claudia), local fossiliferous limestones were used across the entire site’s history; buildings made with such softer limestones and shell marls were stuccoed to provide a uniform surface. Some of the earliest marble quarries include the Baetican deposits at Almadén de La Plata (Sevilla) and Mijas (Málaga); products of both were used in the Augustan theater at Italica (Rodríguez Gutiérrez 2004). Also exploited during Augustus’ reign was the famous and widely exported broccatello marble from Tortosa, and the pink marble from Buixcarró, associated with the city of Saetabis (Xàtiva), but especially prominent in the decorative programs of Segobriga. Segobriga itself was famous for a stone known as lapis specularis, a particularly fine selenite gypsum whose large translucent sheets were widely used as windows and skylights. Wealth from the commercialization of this resource allowed Segobriga to develop into one of the most highly monumentalized cities in the central peninsula, with impressive architecture and displays of sculpture and inscriptions (Abascal, Almagro-Gorbea, and Cebrián 2006; Noguera Celdrán 2012). A number of additional ornamental stones became regionally important, especially different types of calcareous stone. In Baetica, these included yellowish and reddish limestones around Corduba and Anticaria (modern Antequera). In Citerior, there were various colorful cretaceous limestones at Espejón, a relatively fine-grained, yellowish limestone now known as pedra de Santa Tecla in the area of Tarraco, as well as Galician and Pyrenean marbles (Sillières 2005; Àlvarez Pérez et al. 2009; Gutiérrez Garcia-M. et al. 2016; Gutiérrez Garcia-M. and Rouillard 2018).

Agriculture and Marine Products The fertile lands of Baetica and Citerior offered much more than these underground deposits, however. The northeastern coast had a developed wine production industry well before the Roman conquest, as can be seen from wine presses at Iberian sites at Burriac (Cabrera de Mar, Barcelona), Can Pons (Arbúcies, Girona), and Sant Miquel del Vinebre (Vinebre, Tarragona), and of wine storage facilities at La Quéjola (Albacete) and Cerro de Las Cabezas (Ciudad Real). Similarly, the southern regions provided an excellent setting for the production of fishbased preserves and sauces as early as the period of Punic interaction, especially in the area around Cádiz (Lagóstena 2001; García Vargas and Bernal 2009). A primary source of evidence for the earliest such activity is in amphora workshops, such as those preserved at Camposoto in San Fernando. In the Roman period there is abundant archaeological evidence for the production of wine and olive oil (Peña 2010), which is of tremendous value for the reconstruction of the different scales of these industries. As with mining and quarrying, agricultural production also increased during the Augustan period. According to Pliny the Elder (Natural History 14.71) the wine from Tarraconensis was among the highest quality in the Roman world, and wine from the territory of Barcino farther north was abundant (Prevosti and Martín 2009). These wines were exported to the rest of Europe in two characteristic amphora types: Pascual 1 and Dressel 2–4, in the “tarraconense” variety. While the first century ce seems to have seen the peak of wine production and export from the Catalan coast, viticulture continued well after this time. For the second century, we have epigraphic evidence for a cella vinaria north of Barcino (Teià) overseen by a slave of the gens Pedania, who later gained his freedom and served as sevir augustalis in the colony (Martín, Rodà, and Velasco 2007). In southern Hispania, the Baetis river was navigable for much of its length, and so served as an easy route for the import and export of all manner of products. Seagoing ships could navigate the lacus Ligustinus to dock right at the city of Hispalis (Beltrán Fortes and Rodríguez Gutiérrez 2018), from which shallower-draft vessels could make their way up the river nearly as far as the provincial capital, Corduba. Then boats could travel via the tributary Singilius

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(modern Genil) to Astigi (modern Écija), one of the main centers of olive oil production, which was by far the most important agricultural activity in Roman Baetica. Surveys by Michel Ponsich (1974–1991) revealed dozens of production sites along the banks of both of these rivers, and the study of associated amphoras, their stamps, and workshops has enabled the reconstruction of a complex system of olive oil production and distribution, much of it tied into the State-administrated scheme for food provision for Rome, the annona (Berni 2008). Recent joint Spanish/French excavations have revealed important data on amphora production sites like Las Delicias near Astigi and El Mohíno (Palma del Río), where two ranks of circular kilns have been documented (Mauné and García Vargas 2020). Labels painted on Dressel 20 amphoras offer valuable details about the evolution of the Baetican olive oil industry, referring to cities such as Hispalis, Corduba, and Astigi, whether as the ports of origin for export or as centers of fiscal districts. An enormous number of these containers came to their final destination in Rome, where they were gradually incorporated into Monte Testaccio (Blázquez and Remesal 1999–2014; Remesal 2011). The massive volume of oil attested by this deposit supports the theory mentioned above, that Baetican oil, along with wheat and other foods, was a vital component of the state-run annona, whose praefectura oversaw food provision for both the city of Rome and the armies. This helps to explain the abundance of Dressel 20 amphoras in Germania, because the rapid transport of Baetican products to Germania and even Britannia would naturally have relied on the Atlantic sea trade routes (Carreras 2000). Coastal Baetica was also a major center of production for another widely exported Spanish product, preserved fish and fish sauces (Lagóstena 2001). As noted above, an enormous and well-organized industry in fish products had existed around the Bay of Cádiz from preRoman times, possibly under Punic influence. Production intensified under the Romans, who expanded the scale and complexity of exploitation. Many fishponds, ranging from small to very large, are scattered along the coast of Andalucia (García Vargas and Bernal 2009), with concentrations at El Majuelo in ancient Sexi (Almuñécar), Malaca, Gades, Traducta (Algeciras), and in Citerior, Baria (modern Villaricos). At Baelo Claudia, a huge neighborhood fronting directly on the sea incorporated both residential and industrial buildings. Even at Hispalis, recent excavations in the Plaza de La Encarnación (Sevilla) have revealed a first century ce fish-processing center (Beltrán Fortes and Rodríguez Gutiérrez 2018). There are also abundant remains of workshops producing amphoras for liquid fish products, though they are not always directly connected to the fish-processing facilities. While the bulk of this activity was concentrated in Baetica, fish-processing tanks have been found along the northeastern coast of Citerior as well, at sites like Emporiae and Barcino (Beltrán de Heredia 2001). In both provinces, fish processing also depended on a highly developed salt-production system. Both Baetica and Citerior had other important industries in different areas (Revilla 1995). Ceramics were essential to many aspects of Roman life: amphoras for the transport of oil and wine, table and kitchen wares, lamps, storage dolia for households, and architectural materials like rooftiles, bricks, and terracottas. One of the most important ceramic production centers was at Andújar (Jaén) in the conventus Cordubensis, where terra sigillata was produced to be distributed throughout Baetica and into Citerior, Lusitania, and North Africa (Roca and Fernández-García 2005). This center’s workshops were scattered along the right bank of the Baetis, and they offered a noteworthy variety of forms (Fernández-García, Ruiz Montes, and Peinado 2015). Another major production center specializing in “eggshell” ware has been identified with El Rinconcillo near modern Algeciras, but recent studies suggest that there may have been more than one source for this ware (López Mullor 2013). The second half of the first century ce saw a veritable explosion in the production of table wares at a variety of sites in La Rioja, lasting well into the second century. Tritium Magallum (modern Tricio), promoted to municipal status under Vespasian, was among the most



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important, alongside nearby workshops at Vareia and Calagurris (modern Calahorra; Roca and Fernández-García 2005). Between the end of the first century ce and the beginning of the second, one Lucius Herennius Optatus manufactured rooftiles around Fréjus and north of Barcino and exported them all around the western Mediterranean (Rodà 2015).

Harbors and Trade It is unlikely that the many Spanish products outlined here would have achieved the level of popularity that they did without initiatives that facilitated transport along the major shipping lanes. During the reign of Claudius both sides of the Strait of Gibraltar underwent significant developments. On the Spanish side, the city of Baelo, already noted as an important passenger and mercantile port (Strabo, Geography 3.1.8), was granted municipal status and took the name Baelo Claudia (Brassous and Lemaître 2017). On the African side, Mauretania Tingitana became a Roman province, adding an administrative link between areas that already shared a long geographical and cultural connection. Commercial exchanges across the strait were fluid, and families with holdings on both sides have been documented. The abundance of Baetican sigillata and marble from quarries in southwest Iberia found at sites in Morocco testifies to the strong economic ties between the two regions. This network around the Strait of Gibraltar also connected with Atlantic routes, resulting in a reliable base from which Claudius could launch his conquest of Britain. Recent studies have shone new light on the important role played by Spanish ports in western Mediterranean trade and in connecting the provinces to Rome (Keay 2012). Harbor cities like Emporiae, Tarraco, and Carthago Nova were well placed to take advantage of Mediterranean shipping networks, and there is now evidence for the importance of Baetican ports along the Atlantic coast (Campos and Bermejo 2017). In order to truly understand the port capacity of some of these cities, it is important to recognize that the Atlantic coast of Baetica, from Gades to Hispalis and on to Onuba, has changed dramatically since antiquity as a result of both geological and human activity, as suggested by Strabo (Geography 3.2.5), who mentions that canals were built to facilitate access to inland areas. As for Citerior, Ozcáriz (2013) identified the port Oiasso (modern Irún, on the Bidasoa estuary in the Bay of Biscay) as part of the conventus Caesaraugustanus. This port has also seen much recent archaeological activity, the results of which are on show in the Museo Romano Oiasso (Fernández Ochoa and Morillo 1994; Urteaga 2005). Lighthouses played a crucial role in the navigation of the high seas of the Atlantic. In addition to the Campa de Torres (Asturias) lighthouse already mentioned (Fernández Ochoa, Morillo, and Villa 2005), the famous Tower of Hercules at A Coruña still preserves its original Roman core, despite extensive maintenance and modification across its history.

The Countryside The rural world of Roman Baetica and Citerior was highly organized, in a network traditionally associated with the villa as a unit of production, although other types of sites, such as vici, fundi, tuguria, and mansiones, were also common. The largest villas were mainly concentrated in fertile river deltas and coastal plains, where large-scale agricultural exploitation was easiest (Hidalgo 2016): these include the eastern coast and Iberus river valley in Citerior, and in Baetica the Baetis valley and coast around Malaca. In many villas, areas dedicated to production and processing (Peña 2010) are found alongside luxurious living quarters with urban comforts such as baths (García-Entero 2005).

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Some of the villas of Catalonia were dedicated primarily to viticulture. They include La Sagrera (Barcelona), Els Munts (modern Altafulla), Torre Llauder (Mataró), Villa Callipolis (Vilaseca), Vilauba (Camós), and Els Ametllers (Tossa de Mar) (Revilla, González Pérez, and Prevosti 2008). Villa sites associated primarily with maritime exploitation have been excavated along the coast around Malaca, including El Secretario (Fuengirola), Torremuelle (Benalmádena), and Torre de Benagalbón (Rincón de la Victoria). The latter has characteristics that tie it directly into the typology of the classical villa maritima. Other sites such as Torrox and Río Verde (Málaga) seem to represent small settlements built for the preparation of preserved fish products rather than extraurban villas in the traditional sense (Hidalgo 2016). Many villa complexes were built in the imperial period, and some experienced a dramatic revival (sometimes after a period of abandonment or stagnation) in late antiquity, when a number of villas reached their high point (Fernández Ochoa, García-Entero and Gil 2006). Prime examples are Centcelles (Constantí) (Schlunk 1988; Arbeiter and Korol 2015), which may have been more than just a villa; and the recently excavated villa at Noheda (Cuenca), with impressive mosaics from the early fourth century (Valero 2013). A relatively recent line of investigation is the archaeology of the countryside, focusing especially on areas that are not very well known (Ariño et al. 2015). A research group working in the eastern Pyrenees has recently begun investigating high altitude areas (Palet et al. 2017), revealing a great deal about resource exploitation in mountainous zones (cattle grazing and sheep herding, along with associated products, as well as small iron deposits, fish, timber, etc.) (Rico 1997; Sillières 2005). Even in these more rugged lands, there were urban settlements, including the well-known Labitolosa (Puebla de Castro) (Magallón and Sillières 2013), and Iulia Libyca (Llívia), whose forum has recently come to light.

Provincial Organization under Augustus and the Julio-Claudians In 27 bce, the extreme northwest of Iberia had yet to be conquered, and Augustus set out to organize the western provinces in Gaul and Hispania (Sillières 2005). During these campaigns he lived in Tarraco, making that city the effective seat of the empire for two years (26 to 25 bce). When the Cantabrian Wars were finally won in 19 bce under the direction of Marcus Agrippa, it was possible to reorganize the northwest as something other than a theater of war. This civic organization was accomplished largely through soldiers of the legions IV Macedonica, VI Victrix, and X Gemina, who became active participants in the integration of the northern third of Iberia into the Roman Empire. Through construction of public works projects (e.g., Caesar Augusta and Barcino, the Martorell bridge on the Via Augusta) and later activities as veterans in the conquered territories, the army contributed to the structures that incorporated recently subdued peoples into the Roman system. This is made clear by archaeological evidence ranging from the plans of the new settlements to their pottery production. Baetica shows a very different process of assimilation. Although it had been the scene of frequent pro-Punic insurrections in the initial stages of conquest, and several cities took sides in the civil war between Julius Caesar and the supporters of Pompey, the province was pacified relatively quickly, thanks in part to a longer history of Roman activity and more amenable conditions to the introduction of Roman administrative structures. This was also true of certain parts of Hispania Citerior: the largest province in geographical area at the time of its creation, it incorporated a wide range of territories, differing in both geography and culture. It included the eastern side of modern Andalucia, nearly the entire Mediterranean coast, the Meseta, the Cantabrian north, and the northwest as far south as the



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mouth of the Durius river (modern Duero/Douro). By comparison, Baetica was smaller and more homogeneous, encompassing areas that had been influenced by eastern Mediterranean cultures (Phoenicia, then Carthage), including the oldest, most numerous, and most developed urban centers, with ancient Gadir, now Roman Gades (modern Cádiz) and Carmo (modern Carmona) at the fore. The fertile valley of the Baetis River supplied the name and constituted the heart of the province, and the river’s termination in the lacus Ligustinus, a huge estuary, provided the city of Hispalis (modern Sevilla) with an excellent sheltered port on the Atlantic and Mediterranean trade routes. As mentioned, Citerior was an imperial province, governed by a legate of consular status, while Baetica was a senatorial province governed by a proconsular praetor. Both provinces (like Lusitania) were divided into judicial districts known as conventus from the time of Augustus (Figure 35.1). There were four in Baetica (Hispalensis, Astigitanus, Gaditanus, and Cordubensis) and seven in Citerior (Tarraconensis, Carthaginensis, Caesaraugustanus, Cluniensis, Lucensis, Asturum, and Bracaraugustanus). Recent work has revealed much about the boundaries between these conventus (Ozcáriz 2013). The provincial framework required an organized and complex road network, which developed significantly during the reign of Augustus, though the Via Augusta, Iberia’s most important artery linking Gades and Rome, was based on a pre-Roman route and had branches linking it to interior areas of the peninsula (Silliéres 1991; Magallón 1999). The trends set in motion through the policies of Augustus continued in large part during the reign of Tiberius, with developments in the infrastructure and urban core of many cities, spurred at least in part by the almost continual creation of new municipia. The projects begun under Augustus, especially in the northwest after 19 bce, continued apace, with the ongoing fortification of strategic centers such as Bilbilis near Calatayud (Martín Bueno and Sáenz Preciado 2019), birthplace of the poet Martial. Under Augustus and Tiberius, a number of cities in Citerior and Baetica issued civic coinage, but this activity ceased completely from the accession of Claudius (RPC).

Imperial Cult The organization of the imperial cult in Hispania was relatively early and highly developed, beginning with the provincial capitals, Corduba and Tarraco (Fishwick 1987–2005; Nogales and González 2007; Étienne 1974). It had the double role of exalting imperial power and offering paths to personal promotion, whether for freedmen, as assistants (seviri augustales), or for magistrates, who could start as municipal flamines, rise to become provincial flamen, and be promoted to the equestrian order. There is abundant evidence for that career path in both Baetica and Citerior, such as the magnificent series of over 75 statue bases from Tarraco (CIL 22/14, varia). Though worship later tended to be directed toward recently deceased rulers, Augustus received religious honors while still living, as illustrated by the altar dedicated to him at Tarraco, according to Quintilian. A monumental inscription in the orchestra of the theater at Italica also seems to document the creation of a cult that was, at least initially, under the direction of pontifices (CILA Se 382–383). Theater stages soon became a popular setting for inscriptions and statues honoring the imperial family, sometimes with the deified Julius Caesar presiding, or the personification of the city of Rome: for example, the theater of Caesar Augusta in Citerior featured Roma among portraits of the imperial family. Sometimes, as in the stage building at Segobriga, there were also statues of members of the local aristocracy, likely the actual sponsors of the theater and its associated festivals (Noguera Celdrán 2012). Forum courtyards and other public spaces were also popular sites for the celebration of the imperial family, as can be seen in both provincial capitals and numerous other cities such as Segobriga and Asido (modern Medina Sidonia, Cádiz) (Beltrán Fortes and Loza Azuaga 2018).

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Despite a lack of literary or epigraphic confirmation, archaeological evidence from the West seems to indicate that here, as in the East, religious processions were an important aspect of civic life (Noguera 2009). The structures and spaces associated with the imperial cult – temples, theaters, the forum itself – were linked by roads that could take on a ceremonial significance. Images of the gods, of the emperor, and of members of his family would have traveled along these streets in civic processions. The period of Nero’s rule seems to have seen a marked increase in such activity, as suggested by the abundance of portraits of both Agrippinas throughout the Iberian Peninsula.

Urbanization A dense urban settlement pattern arose even before the Roman occupation along the Baetis River, the main axis of Baetica, and its primary tributaries such as the Singilius (modern Genil). The older centers included Carteia (modern San Roque) (Roldán et al. 1998–2011), established 171 bce, and Corduba, a few years younger. However, the Roman settlement pattern along the Baetis was substantially different from the earlier pattern: along the Baetis’ right bank, most Roman settlements were collection and distribution points for products of the mines and raw materials from the adjacent mountains. On the left bank and extending almost all the way to the coast, there arose a dense network of cities whose connectivity has recently been analyzed (Earl and Keay 2007). The Strait of Gibraltar served as a key nexus of control and fluid communication. On the Spanish coast, cities such as Carteia, Traducta, and Baelo Claudia developed into important centers. This last site, now abandoned, has been under French and now joint French/Spanish investigation for over a century, with published results in the monographic series Belo (I–IX). Like the Baetis, the Iberus played a fundamental role in its province, Citerior. Some of the oldest Roman settlements arose in this great river basin, some preserving important late Republican period remains, as at Colonia Celsa Lepida (Celsa, modern Velilla de Ebro) and La Cabañeta (Burgo de Ebro). Citerior had proportionately fewer cities than Baetica, however, given its much larger area. According to Géza Alföldy’s estimates (1998, 17), there were 12 colonies, a minimum of 25 municipia, and at least 35 Flavian foundations. In the Iberian northwest, a dispersed settlement pattern based on the castro (hillfort) continued to predominate across the Roman period. Still, the new Roman organization saw to the creation of new administrative centers (Lucus, Bracara, Asturica) and the enhanced profile of old castros (Santa Trega, Sanfins) now at the head of new administrative units and on important axes of communication (Dopico, Rodríguez, and Villanueva 2009). In order to strengthen the provincial administrative scheme, urbanization intensified yet more under Julius Caesar and Augustus: Pliny the Elder (Natural History 3.3.11) listed Roman colonies that were mostly established at that time, such as Hispalis (Sevilla) and Colonia Augusta Firma Astigi (Écija) in Baetica, and Barcino (Barcelona) and Caesar Augusta (Zaragoza) in Citerior, all founded after 19 bce, under the political and propagandistic program of the Principate. Recent excavations, as yet unpublished, have discovered remains of the Ianus Augustus arch near Jaén, marking the border between Citerior and Baetica. This seems to emphasize the concept of a border between provinces as well as the symbolic transcendence of that boundary under Augustus (Dopico, Santos, and Villanueva 2016). It is possible to detect marked changes in the strategic organization of the territories under Augustus, both in the areas that were recently annexed through conquest and in the older provincial heartland. The establishment of the new colony of Caesar Augusta led to the decline of Celsa, which was gradually abandoned for both political and geostrategic reasons.



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Caesar Augusta proved to be better situated, in part because its bridge across the Iberus improved communication and trade contacts (Beltrán Lloris 2007). Augustus continued the policies of Caesar in fostering urbanization and the creation of new municipia, as well as establishing political alliances with the provincial elite. Augustus personally financed public works, especially aqueducts to provide abundant water to the new urban centers. At Carthago Nova, Agrippa and his sons, Lucius and Gaius Caesar, participated in the construction and decoration of the theater (Ruiz Valderas 2017). The archaeological record shows major investment in structures associated with the new Roman administrative system in certain cities (especially conventus centers) at the same time as they were promoted in status. Augustus transformed Rome into the center of a world of cities whose people could think of themselves – or hope to think of themselves – as Roman. Thus, it was important that both communities and individuals be made fully aware of the power and the well-being represented by the Roman state. Social mobility, the possibility of access to citizenship, and participation in public office all served as powerful incentives for both the local aristocracy and their dependent classes, especially the freedmen, who turned out to be a major driving force in many of the cities of Roman Hispania (Rodríguez Neila and Navarro 1999; Navarro 2010). There has been abundant research on the urban elite and their euergetism (Caballos and Melchor 2014): cities acquired iconic monumental buildings in the Augustan period, as at Ilipa (Alcalá del Río, Sevilla) and Italica (Santiponce, Sevilla) (Caballos 2010) in Baetica, and Carthago Nova in Citerior (Figure 35.2; Ruiz Valderas 2017). Even more comprehensive architectural programs were carried out at colonies established by Augustus on new sites, such

Figure 35.2  View of the “atrium building” in Carthago Nova, in the current archaeological area of El Molinete (Cartagena). Photo by J.M. Noguera.

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as Astigi, Caesar Augusta (Beltrán Lloris 2007), and Barcino. Astigi and Caesar Augusta were located along the Genil and Ebro rivers, respectively, while Barcino was sited directly on the Mediterranean coast, providing all three with direct access to the major long-distance trade routes of the day. Among the most successful provincial families were the Balbi of Gades, who climbed the Roman ladder and brought the benefits back to their homeland. Among them, Lucius Cornelius Balbus Minor, a close friend of Augustus, was a major benefactor of Gades, donating an impressive theater modeled on the one he had built in Rome’s Campus Martius. It is likely that other cities’ elite families did the same. For example, Lucius Licinius Sura sponsored an arch at Berà in the territory of Tarraco, while his family was active at their ancestral city, Celsa; Sura’s more famous descendant served under the emperor Trajan (Rodà 2014). Such influential figures also promoted the careers of their local and provincial compatriots, making it possible for many Baetican families to rise to the senatorial order and, eventually, to the imperial throne, as in the case of Trajan and Hadrian (Caballos 2018).

Corduba, Capital of Baetica The Augustan period saw major developments in the cities of Baetica, beginning with the provincial capital, Corduba (Figure 35.3). In the Republican period, Corduba had sided with Pompey and been destroyed by Caesarian forces. Augustus subsequently re-founded the city as Colonia Patricia with veterans of the Cantabrian Wars, and made it capital of Baetica (León 1996; Panzram 2002; Dupré 2004b; Rodríguez Neila 2017). From this moment the city underwent a complete

Figure 35.3  Map of Colonia Patricia (Corduba), capital city of Baetica, in imperial times. By D. Vaquerizo, formatted by John Wallrodt.



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transformation: public monuments and spaces were decorated with local limestone and imported materials, including Luni marble, and the city’s surface area doubled, eventually reaching to the banks of the Baetis, where a major fluvial port was developed for the export of local agricultural produce, mainly olive oil, alongside the rich mineral resources of the territory. A splendid new forum coloniae was laid out where the Republican forum had stood, providing a stage for self-promotion by provincial and local elites; soon after, this was enlarged with an adjacent forum novum or forum adiectum containing elements derived from the Forum of Augustus in Rome, among them a colossal statue of extremely high-quality Carrara marble, possibly representing Romulus or Aeneas. Another ambitious Julio-Claudian building program was Corduba’s “provincial forum,” built on three levels, bounded by the city’s largest public building, the circus, and crowned with a large hexastyle temple (on modern Claudio Marcelo street). All this architectural splendor was designed to exalt the Emperor and Rome at the site of meetings of the concilium provinciae and important religious and civic ceremonies in Baetica’s capital. Corduba’s intramural theater took advantage of the natural terrain, incorporating an exterior ring of stairways and small terraces, its façade featuring a succession of the classical orders reminiscent of the Theater of Marcellus in Rome; part of it was painstakingly documented and incorporated into the new Archaeological Museum. The extramural amphitheater is now in an advanced state of decay due to centuries of spoliation and reuse (Vaquerizo and Murillo 2010). An aqueduct, the Aqua Augusta, was apparently built under Augustus, and in the later first century Domitian added a new branch, the Aqua Domitiana (Ventura 1996). Corduba’s large population spilled outside the circuit of the walls into dense suburbs, where residential, industrial, and funerary structures intermingled. Such mixed-use suburbs were common around the major cities of Baetica and elsewhere in the empire. The largest cemeteries followed the main routes into and out of Corduba, with monumental tombs of wealthy individuals and families concentrated just outside the gates. One such group is Puerta Gallegos, on the west side of the city walls, along the road to Hispalis (Vaquerizo 2002, 2010). Recent rescue operations have documented another on the northern side of Corduba, in the Llanos del Pretorio, where some of the better-preserved graves were found with their original funerary inscriptions.

Tarraco, Capital of Citerior Colonia Iulia Urbs Triumphalis Tarraco (Figure 35.4) was a base of Roman operations during the Second Punic War, receiving the epithet Scipionum opus (Pliny the Elder, Natural History 3.4.4; Panzram 2002; Dupré 2004a; Macias et al. 2007; Mar et al. 2015). The city probably received colonial status from Julius Caesar in 49 bce, and Augustus himself lived there for two years during the Cantabrian Wars (26–25 bce). During this brief time the city seems to have undergone considerable development. A new extramural road system and the “Pont del Diable” aqueduct were built in this period, along with new gates in the city wall. Several other key features were either introduced or entirely redeveloped in this period: the port and its district; a forum adiectum next to the old Republican forum, with its basilica and courtyard; a theater; and a public bath complex. A branch of the Via Augusta passed through the center of Tarraco along the modern Rambla Vella, dividing the city in two. On one side the colony itself extended down to the coast; the other, on a hill 82 m/asl, was designated for the buildings of Tarraco as provincial capital. The Augustan and Julio-Claudian phases of that area are only partially known. An altar dedicated to Augustus, known from local coins and a literary reference (Quintilian, Institutes of Oratory 6.3.77), has yet to be located. A temple of the deified Augustus was requested from Tiberius by the residents of Tarraco, and it later became an example for all the provinces (Tacitus, Annals 1.78). Represented as octostyle on local coins (RPC 218), it was restored by Hadrian during his visit to the city, when he also presided over a meeting of the

Figure 35.4  Map of Colonia Iulia Urbs Triumphalis Tarraco, capital city of Citerior province, in imperial times. By John Wallrodt from Macias et al. 2007.



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provincial council of Citerior (Historia Augusta Hadrian 12.3; Alföldy 2014). Remains of the temple’s foundations have recently been discovered in excavations in the central nave of Tarragona’s cathedral (Macias et al. 2014). Tarraco’s amphitheater lay outside the city wall near the coast. This was financed by a flamen of the imperial cult in the second century ce and subsequently renovated under Elagabalus, as attested by a long inscription (CIL 22/14, 1109; Taller Escola d’Arqueologia 1990; Alföldy 1997). It was here that the Christian bishop Fructuosus and his deacons were condemned to death in 259. Tarraco’s circus was built as part of the expansive Flavian building program, and was rather small due to its inclusion within the walled city. Tarraco’s port handled traffic from all over the Mediterranean and exported local wines that Martial (13.18; 7.56.3) considered better than those of Campania and equal to those of Etruria. Though described by Pomponius Mela (2.1) as opulentissima, Tarraco was neither particularly populous nor extensive. It was ca. 55–60  ha within the walls, with suburban spread of perhaps 10–15 ha more, though the full extent of the lower city and port is uncertain, as the southern line of the city wall has not yet been identified. By contrast, Tarraco’s territory was extensive. Its northern boundary ended at the Rubricatum (modern Llobregat) River, where the ager of Barcino began. On the south and west, Tarraco’s land was bounded by those of Dertosa (modern Tortosa), Ilerda (Lleida), Iesso (Guissona), and Sigarra (Els Prats de Rei). Numerous Italianate villas have been identified in Tarraco’s hinterland, some of them showing activity as early as the second century bce (Revilla, González Pérez, and Prevosti 2008; Prevosti and Guitart i Duran 2010–2014).

Other Major Cities The archaeological record for Roman activity in Hispania has grown exponentially over the past decades, thanks to both urban development and recent legislation for cultural heritage management (Bendala 1993; Beltrán Fortes and Rodríguez Gutiérrez 2012). A number of major city sites have been excavated and sometimes adapted for tourism or given dedicated museums. In Citerior, one noteworthy example is the conventus capital Carthago Nova, whose Roman remains have been documented and displayed in exemplary fashion (Noguera et al. 2016; Ruiz Valderas 2017). Others include Oiasso (Irún), Bilbilis (Catalayud) (Martin Bueno and Saenz Preciado 2019), Caesar Augusta (Beltrán Lloris 2007), Iesso (Guissona), Aeso (Isona), Auso (Vic), Emporiae (modern Empúries/Ampurias: Aquilué 2012), Barcino, Baetulo (Badalona), Lucentum (Alacant/Alicante), Saguntum (Sagunto), and Valentia (Valencia: Ribera and Jiménez Salvador 2002). In Baetica, other cities whose Roman remains have come to light in recent years include Hispalis (Beltrán Fortes and Rodríguez Gutiérrez 2018), Italica (Caballos 2010), Castulo (Linares), Onuba (Huelva), Gades, Astigi, Malaca (Málaga), Iliberri (Granada), and Carmo (Carmona) (Campos and Bermejo 2019). The reorganization of the peninsular northwest after its final pacification in the second phase of the Cantabrian Wars (19 bce) was an enormous undertaking. It is generally believed that Marcus Agrippa, who was in the region at the time, oversaw this project; he was certainly a generous patron of several cities of Roman Hispania. The region underwent its own development subsequently, although it retained its military association (Morillo and Aurrecoechea 2006). Though some cities such as Lucus Augusti (Lugo) were civil settlements from their foundation (Rodríguez Colmenero 2011), most, such as Legio (León), Asturica Augusta, and Pisoraca (Herrera de Pisuerga) of the Legio IV Macedonica, seem to have begun as military camps (García-Bellido 2006). Several Roman settlements have benefited from their lack of subsequent occupation in that their buildings are well preserved, allowing reconstruction of a more comprehensive plan of

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Figure 35.5  Sculptures of the emperors Claudius (formerly Caligula, l.) and Augustus (r.), from the site of Torreparedones (Baena, Córdoba). Photo by C. Márquez.

the settlement than would otherwise be possible. Several good examples in Baetica are Baelo Claudia, Carteia, Munigua (modern Villanueva del Río y Minas), Celti (Peñaflor), Regina (Casas de Reina, Badajoz) (Álvarez Martínez 2018), and Torreparedones (Baena). The last site, Torreparedones (Márquez et al. 2014), was excavated within the past decade. It has a well-preserved forum complex with temple, curia, basilica, market, and public baths. The extraordinary range of sculptural remains found there includes imperial portraits (Figure 35.5), featuring a group of three seated figures representing Augustus, probably Livia, and Claudius, the latter reworked from a portrait of Caligula. Baelo Claudia (Brassous and Lemaître 2017; Belo I–IX) was excavated through the twentieth century, and among its well preserved public monuments are the forum, theater, several temples, and the city wall and gates. More recent excavations have illuminated the city’s production areas and cemeteries, revealing similarities, close economic ties, and even common family interests among sites on either side of the Strait of Gibraltar, such as Septem, Tingis, Tamuda, and Tamusida (see Mattingly, “Africa, Numidia and Mauretania,” chapter 33 of this volume). Thanks to systematic archaeological investigation of sites in Citerior that were abandoned and thus preserved, our knowledge has advanced dramatically in recent years. They include Clunia in Burgos, Sisapo in Ciudad Real, Segobriga, Ercavica, and Valeria in the province of Cuenca, Termantia (Tiermes), Bilbilis, Emporiae, and in Mallorca, Pollentia, south of Alcudia. In both Citerior and Baetica it has sometimes proven difficult to locate ancient settlements that are attested epigraphically; this is true of Irni and Siarum, both known from bronze legal charters. The converse is also true: some cities whose ancient names are unknown have left abundant archaeological evidence of prosperity in the Roman period, as at Torreparedones, previously mentioned, or Los Bañales in the territory of Cinco Villas, possibly the town of Tarraca.



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The Flavian Period The Spanish provinces were instrumental in the Year of Four Emperors, at the end of which Vespasian launched the new Flavian dynasty. Galba was Nero’s governor of Hispania Citerior for eight years, and Otho had previously governed Lusitania. Galba seems to have granted his name Sulpicia to Clunia, where he learned of the death of Nero and began his brief reign. A tombstone from the city records the death of a miles Otonianus (Palol et al. 1991). The Iberian Peninsula was the scene of several major events in the period between the death of Nero (68) and the establishment of the Flavian dynasty (69). It was in this context that the permanent Spanish Legio VII Gemina was established, eventually lending its name to the city that arose from its legionary encampment – Legio (modern León). According to Alföldy’s calculations (1998), Baetica came to have 10 colonies and 100 municipia; of the latter, 32 were granted that status under the Flavians (Andreu 2004; Alföldy 2013). Many cities of Citerior were also promoted in status under the Flavians, and even the Balearic Islands received two new colonies, Palma and Pollentia, and three new municipia, Iamo and Mago on Mallorca, and Ebusus on Ibiza (Orfila 2006, 150–170). The elevation of so many cities naturally required a larger and more complex network of roads than had been established under Augustus. Vespasian granted Latin rights to the people of Hispania early in his reign (Andreu 2004). This generosity may be due in part to the fact that Roman senators from Baetica, like Antistius Rusticus (proconsul of Baetica in 83–84), had proven particularly supportive of Vespasian. The grant of Latin rights simplified the administrative system in Baetica, stimulated local provincial elites to seek urban magistracies, and increased the tax roll. Though this offered a path to Roman citizenship to a larger number of people than in previous periods, epigraphically visible because the new Roman citizens were enrolled in the Flavian tribe Quirina, the cost of officeholding prevented all but the wealthiest from taking on local magistracies. Still, Italica boasted a large number of senatorial families during this period. Three separate bronze copies of the lex Flavia municipalis, from Malaca, Salpensa, and Irni (González 2008), attest to Vespasian’s grant of ius Latii (minus) in Baetica. The only comparable document is the charter of the Colonia Genetiva (Urso, modern Osuna) of 44 bce, fragments of which have been found across several decades (Caballos 2006). Taken as a group, these documents allow us to trace the evolution of municipal life in the cities of Baetica, and likely Hispania in general. Though municipal status was granted both to preexisting and new settlements, not all of them received the new ius Latii, especially those in less accessible areas. For example, the municipium of Munigua in Baetica was a small settlement whose center was almost completely taken up with public spaces and religious buildings (Schattner 2003). This municipium thus apparently functioned more as an administrative, religious, and prestige center than as a proper town. A bronze copy of a letter of 79 ce documents the emperor Titus’ response to an appeal by the residents of Munigua against a tax debt; their inability to pay was mainly due to having invested so heavily in the monumentalization of the city center. Such situations may have been quite common, given the costs of such efforts at self-promotion, not to mention the possibility of corruption; Pliny the Younger (Letters 1.4, 1.7, 6.29) describes such abuse by Roman proconsuls from 92–98 ce. Nihil novum sub sole (“There’s nothing new under the sun”). Many inscriptions show that members of the municipal elite, even if motivated by the desire for personal promotion and prestige, were generous benefactors to their cities. Astigi, or colonia Augusta Firma, in Baetica, shows an exponential increase in public and religious structures in the late first and early second century, judging by the ornate style of architectural decoration. This was doubtless due to the rapid accumulation of wealth by families producing and selling olive oil (García-Dils 2015). One of the important benefactors of Astigi was

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Aponia Montana, who used marble from Almadén de la Plata for dedications in her own name and that of her son. Other women, such as Iunia Rustica of Cartima (modern Cártama) and Acilia Plecusa from Singilia Barba, also endowed monuments in their cities. In addition to constructing new buildings or renovating older ones, such benefactors might also sponsor statues, games, and feasts (Navarro 2017; Martínez López et al. 2019). The most important public works project in all of Citerior may have been the monumentalization of the hillside of Tarraco, which began late in the Julio-Claudian period. This included enormous public spaces decorated with marble imported from the Italian Luni quarries and worked on site, some imitating the decor of the Forum of Augustus in Rome (Dupré 2004a). This now became the dramatic setting for the Provincial Forum: the uppermost level was dominated by an imperial cult temple, built under Tiberius; on the next terrace, a courtyard for the concilium provinciae was dotted with the statues of the provincial elite, as attested by a number of inscribed statue pedestals; while a circus stretched across the third, lowest terrace. The layout of these structures, still visible today, had a profound influence on the subsequent development of Tarraco.

Emperors from Hispania Trajan At the assassination of Domitian in 96 ce, an old and prestigious senator, Nerva, rose to power; childless himself, he had to adopt a successor. The main candidates were Marcus Cornelius Nigrinus Curiatius Maternus from Edeta in Tarraconensis and Marcus Ulpius Traianus from Italica in Baetica. It cannot be a coincidence that both were from Hispania, given the participation of its elite class in imperial affairs since the time of Augustus. In the end, Trajan was declared Nerva’s heir, primarily due to his powerful position as legatus Augusti pro praetore of Upper Germany. Thus, the Roman Empire entered the second century ce under the rule of a man born in Baetica, the first emperor not born in Italy, though of Italian stock; Italica had a longstanding Roman tradition from its foundation in 206 bce (Álvarez Martínez and Almagro-Gorbea 1999; Caballos 2018). One negative impact of Trajan’s reign on Hispania was the Italica adlectio (which should be distinguished from the military use of the term). It seems that cities of Tarraconensis and Baetica that had supposedly benefited from the Flavian grant of ius Latii came to be exploited financially. At the same time, the promotion of Spanish equites to the senatorial order, though seemingly a triumph of local aristocracies, had a boomerang effect: a significant portion of these families’ wealth was withdrawn from the Spanish economy. Exports from Baetica, especially oil, remained essential to the city of Rome under Trajan, and dispositions in the Digest (50.5–6) about the advantages and obligations of negotiatores and navicularii who transported them must have had a direct impact on the diffusores olearii in Baetica. Nonetheless, the olive oil industry continued to thrive, as can be seen in the Baetican cities: an excavation under the Plaza de La Encarnación in Sevilla revealed a prosperous Roman port neighborhood throughout the second century, with houses alongside warehouses and hospitia (Beltrán Fortes and Rodríguez Gutiérrez 2018). In Astigi, new projects appeared alongside those of previous phases: a group of statues, some modeled after earlier Greek works – for example, an Amazon after the Sciarra type – decorated an area of the colony’s forum (Merchán 2015). These iconographic/decorative choices highlight the interest in the arts and culture of the Greek world in this period. Hispania benefited from this period of imperial expansion with an increase in public works (Melchor 1994). One of the emblematic monuments of Citerior, the aqueduct of Segovia, can be dated to Trajan’s reign by coin finds and the reconstruction of its inscription from the



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holes used to attach the bronze letters (Alföldy 1997). In Tarraco, as noted above, an amphitheater was built at this time, financed by the flamen of the imperial cult. Despite his Baetican roots, Trajan does not seem to have been personally involved in any of the building activities that took place in the province during his reign. Even his close collaborator, the senator Licinius Sura, was not from Italica, as some authors have suggested; his family, including the Licinius Sura who willed funds to construct the Arch of Berà, was from Celsa in Hispania Citerior (Dupré 1994; Rodà 2014).

Hadrian Hadrian was the son of Trajan’s cousin, Publius Aelius Adrianus Afer of Italica; at Afer’s early death, Trajan and Publius Acilius Attianus, also from Italica, became the child’s guardians; the latter and Trajan’s wife Plotina oversaw Hadrian’s succession after Trajan’s death (Caballos 2018). Though it seems that Trajan never returned to Italica, his successor spent much of his childhood there, and the city’s transformation in the second century was likely due to his direct involvement (Caballos 2010); he personally responded to Italica’s request for colonial status, though he stipulated that its current municipal status guaranteed the city greater autonomy and a less complete submission to the laws of Rome (Cassius Dio 69.10.1; Aulus Gellius, Attic Nights 16.13.4; Caballos 2010). Expansion toward the north more than doubled the area of the old city’s urban core. A new wall was built around the expanded city, and outside it, the amphitheater – one of the largest in the western empire, and among the most important Roman buildings of Baetica – was further developed. Hadrian’s contribution toward a new monumental bath building is documented by a lead pipe inscribed with his name (CILA Se 366). Enormous new private houses were also built in the Hadrianic period, sometimes showing influences of buildings in the eastern empire, and even Hadrian’s own Villa at Tivoli. One of the most monumental complexes in Italica is the so-called Traianeum. While this may have been built by Hadrian in honor of his adoptive father, its purview was soon extended to the imperial cult in general, as illustrated by many later inscriptions and the reworking of some pieces in later periods. At least four colossal statues have recently been identified, along with elaborate marble decorations and roofing materials from the cult building. A contemporary project on the site of the old Republican town on the nearby Cerro de San Antonio has provided some of the outstanding marble statuary from Hispania: Mercury, Venus, Diana, and the head of another female deity made from imported Parian or Pentelic marble (León 1995, 2009). New excavations have shown that this site was not suddenly abandoned and destroyed late in the second century, as previously thought, but remained in use for several more centuries, even if very different socioeconomically, and not on the same scale as at its zenith in the middle of the second century (Teichner 2016). Also from the Hadrianic period in Baetica was a copy of the Doryphoros from the swimming pool of the suburban baths at Baelo Claudia (Bernal et al. 2016). Hadrian also left his mark on Tarraco in 122–123 ce, when he presided over the concilium of the province Citerior, dealt with the Italica adlectio, and arranged for the restoration of the Temple of Augustus (Alföldy 2014). He may also have been a guest at the Villa of Els Munts (Altafulla), the most sumptuous of the second century villas around the provincial capital; this hypothesis is based on an extraordinary sculptural assemblage including a statue of Antinous, as well as a possible Mithraeum. Another important sculptural group was found in the Villa de Los Torrejones in Yecla (Murcia) in Citerior (Noguera and Ruiz 2018). It includes a spectacular portrait of Hadrian carved from Göktepe marble from Turkey, one of a large collection of portraits of Hadrian from around Hispania (including another high quality one recovered by the heritage police from the black market in Écija-Astigi [Sevilla] in July 2019). This particular image likely

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featured in the decor of the peristyle in the Villa de Los Torrejones’s most impressive phase, in the second and third centuries. Archaeologists discovered another noteworthy sculptural set at the suburban villa of El Ruedo in Almedinilla (Córdoba): a bronze statue of Hypnos, a group of Perseus and Andromeda, an Attis, and various herms, along with small statues and reliefs dating throughout the villa’s period of use, from the first to fourth century ce (Vaquerizo and Noguera 1997). One of Hadrian’s first priorities upon his succession had been to stop the expansion of the Roman Empire in the East, which had been a substantial drain on the imperial coffers. Changing economic trends around this time contributed to some decline in certain cities of Hispania that had been highly successful in the Augustan and Julio-Claudian periods. For example, Emporiae experienced a precipitous decline in its port-based commercial activity (Aquilué 2012), while Carthago Nova suffered the effects of a downturn in the mineral exploitation that had been so instrumental in building the city’s fortune in previous centuries (Ruiz Valderas 2017). Other cities of Hispania were still flourishing, as can be seen from the numerous inscriptions detailing offices and benefactions of the local elite classes. Yet the reign of Hadrian marked the beginning of a decline in the number of homines novi coming from Hispania into the Roman Senate. From this point, and increasingly under the Antonine emperors, the focus on local benefaction and participation in public office decreased, possibly because these activities no longer carried the same prestige and potential for personal promotion. There may have been a parallel trend in cultural activity: after such well-known Spanish intellectuals of the first century as the Elder and Younger Seneca, the poet Lucan, Pomponius Mela the geographer, Martial the poet, and Columella the agricultural writer, this wellspring of culture seems to have dried up from the time of Hadrian. The waters of the Ebro (ancient Iberus) have brewed conflict from the Republican period to today, and a Hadrianic bronze plaque from Agón details regulations on access to and maintenance of an irrigation channel from it by a number of villages (pagi) in the territories of Caesar Augusta and Cascantum (modern Cascante). The reign of Hadrian, often described as a golden age for the Roman Empire, was accompanied by social and material changes, including the rise of mystery cults, which may have offered more compelling promises than the state religions of Rome. In Citerior, there was the Els Munts Mithraeum mentioned above, and a Mithraic center with important inscriptions at Can Modolell (Cabrera de Mar). In Baetica, sculptures related to mystery cults, such as Mithraism, were found at El Ruedo (an Attis) and Cabra (a tauroctony). There was also an increasing preference for inhumation burial and ever more elaborate tombs, including highly decorated sarcophagi. A sarcophagus workshop was already active in Tarraco from the 120s on, reaching a high point later, under the Severans (Claveria 2001).

Marcus Aurelius Marcus Aurelius was the third emperor with Baetican roots, as his father, Marcus Annius Verus, was born at Ucubi (Espejo, Córdoba), and his great-great-grandmother was Marciana, sister of Trajan. To avoid overexploitation of the provinces, he prevented provincial senators from investing more than a quarter of their wealth in Italy, so that the remainder could support the local economy in their home regions, and he even held an auction of his own goods to fund his wars (Historia Augusta Marcus Aurelius 17.4, 21.9). Nonetheless, during his reign even peaceful Baetica suffered invasions by the Mauri in 171 and 177 ce, although archaeological evidence for this is elusive.



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Transformations of the Third Century When Marcus Aurelius’ son Commodus was murdered in 192, there was a struggle for imperial control, culminating in the victory of Septimius Severus, who founded the last dynasty of the high Roman Empire. This period saw a surge in the number of Spanish equites joining the ranks of the Senate. Under Severus’ son Caracalla, there was intense maintenance activity along the Via Augusta, represented by milestones found in Citerior (two in the province of Barcelona and one in Castellón) and in Baetica, where 5 out of the 10 known were found along the Via Augusta. The assassination of Alexander Severus in 235 ce marked the end of the Severan Dynasty and the onset of the late empire, marked by structural changes across the Mediterranean and often characterized, perhaps simplistically, as the “Crisis of the Third Century.” But the traumatic events of political history do not always have an immediate and drastic effect on socioeconomic trends, which tend toward slower, longer-term transformations. In a brilliant article published posthumously, Géza Alföldy (2013) offered a brief synthesis on this transition in Hispania. Here the third century coincided with a drastic reduction in epigraphic and sculptural commemoration. Milestones became a major venue for honorific inscriptions, rather than simple records of real works projects. Across the tumultuous middle decades of the third century, with an average of one new emperor or contender every year for 50 years, many emperors or pretenders had their imperial titles inscribed on earlier milestones, turning them into veritable palimpsests. As the century progressed, invasions – or better, raids – became more and more frequent, a consequence (and then a cause) of the weakened power of Rome. The effects of all of this were felt less strongly in Baetica than in Tarraconensis, even though prosperous cities such as Baelo, Italica, and Malaca all seem to have been damaged at some point. There was also widespread inflation: an enormous hoard of bronze coins dating to the third and fourth century, carefully deposited inside 19 amphoras at Tomares near Sevilla, fits into this context of instability that continued down to the end of the ancient world (Chaves 2017). Though their exact dates and purposes are debated, many cities, mostly in the northern third of the Iberian Peninsula, built urban fortifications at this time, including Caesar Augusta, Barcino, Gerunda, Legio, and Asturica. Recent investigations at Barcino, as yet unpublished, have affirmed its fortification’s traditional date in the third century. This wall was built of spolia from extramural areas such as cemeteries, not from the urban core, where the forum remained in use at least until the middle of the fifth century. Though almost certainly associated with the construction of the Aurelian Wall in Rome at around the same time, such walls are no longer simplistically viewed as a response to dangerous times; some (e.g., Arce 2009) have connected them with the reinforcement of the route to Burdigala (modern Bordeaux) as capital of a new prefecture. Regardless of their precise motivations, there can be no doubt that these immense fortifications represent an enormous investment of money and effort by the citizens. The second half of the third century also witnessed the gradual lapse and spoliation of public and spectacle buildings, while new ones were no longer erected. The former absenteeism of the landed aristocracy now gave way to enormous investment in suburban villas that were so like city mansions that they could be illustrations of the phrase “urbs in rure” (“urban lifestyle in the countryside”; Hidalgo 2016). Some of the best-known and most extravagant are Noheda (Cuenca), La Olmeda and Quintanilla de la Cueza (both in Palencia), Quintana del Marco (León), Centcelles (Tarragona), El Salar (Granada) and Carranque (Toledo) (Fernández, García-Entero, and Gil 2006; Revilla, González Pérez, and Prevosti 2008; Pensabene and Sfameni 2014); others are at Veranes (Gijón), Villa Fortunatus at Fraga, and the House of Hippolytus in Alcalá de Henares, ancient Complutum. The level of investment can be seen in the villas’ larger size, complex ground plans featuring display/reception rooms,

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intricate gardens, and lavish decor (wall paintings, stone pavements, sculptural groups, and figural mosaics, sometimes featuring pastimes of the elite landowner and his peers, such as hunting). They often include reused objects, perhaps showing an antiquarian trend, alongside exotic materials (ivory, glass, and metal) imported from around the empire. On the outskirts of Córdoba once stood one of the most impressive residences of the entire peninsula: Cercadilla. Though now bisected by the train station, this complex comprised various structures arranged along an enormous exedra, much of whose cryptoporticus has survived. The compound was so extensive and lavish that it has been suggested to have been a palace of the emperor Maximian, who was stationed in the area while preparing for his African campaign. As time went on, some of the rural villas were fortified, and their proprietors could likely count on private armies, in what some scholars see as an incipient version of a later, medieval system. The last attempt to rebuild the Roman Empire on traditional foundations came from Diocletian, whose reforms redrew provincial lines so that the Iberian Peninsula went from having three provinces to five. While Lusitania and Baetica were unchanged, Hispania Citerior was subdivided into three provinces: Tarraconensis, Carthaginensis, and Gallaecia. Gallaecia in the peninsular northwest went from the Biscay coast as far south as the Durius River, and was therefore much larger than modern Galicia. Carthaginensis included the Balearic Islands until sometime after 370 ce, when a new province of Insulae Baliarum was formed. Diocletian included all these provinces, plus Mauretania Tingitana in Africa, in one of his twelve overarching dioceses, the diocesis Hispaniarum, with its capital at Augusta Emerita (Mérida). Thus both sides of the Strait of Gibraltar finally lay within a single jurisdiction.

Biographical Notes Isabel Rodà has been Curator of the Historical Museum of Barcelona (1976–1980), Director of the Catalan Institute of Classical Archaeology (2007–2012), Professor of Archaeology of the Autonomous University of Barcelona (1993–2019), and Emeritus Professor of that university (2019–present). She has published extensively on Roman sculpture and epigraphy of the Iberian peninsula, on Pompey’s trophies in the Pyrenees, and the Augusteum in Narona, Croatia, and has written or co-authored several corpora of Roman inscriptions. Oliva Rodríguez Gutiérrez is Profesor Titular of Archaeology at the Universidad de Sevilla. Her primary research interests are urbanism and the urban landscape in the Roman period, with special emphasis on the analysis of materials and building techniques, along with technological knowledge and its socioeconomic contexts. She is involved in archaeological projects in Italy (Tusculum and Candelargiu in Sardinia) and in Spain, especially in different Roman cities of the Valley of the Guadalquivir, Baelo Claudia (Cádiz), and Mérida.

Abbreviations CIL = Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum. 1823–. Edited by Deutsche Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin. Paris: A. Franck. CILA = Corpus de inscripciones latinas de Andalucía. 1989–. Edited by Julián González Fernández, Cristóbal González Román, Julio Mangas Manjarrés, and Mauricio Pastor Muñoz. Seville: Consejería de Cultura de la Junta de Andalucía, Dirección General de Bienes Culturales. RPC = Roman Provincial Coinage. 1992–. Edited by Andrew M. Burnett, Michel Amandry, and Pere Pau Ripollès. London and Paris: British Museum Press, Bibliothèque Nationale de France.



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REFERENCES AND SUGGESTED READING Abascal, Juan Manuel, Martín Almagro-Gorbea, and Rosario Cebrián. 2006. “Segobriga: caput Celtiberiae and Latin municipium.” In Early Roman Towns in Hispania Tarraconensis, edited by Lorenzo Abad, Simon Keay, and S. Ramallo, Journal of Roman Archaeology Supplement 62, 184– 196. Portsmouth, RI: Journal of Roman Archaeology. Alföldy, Géza. 1997. Die Bauinschriften des Aquäduktes von Segovia und des Amphiteaters von Tarraco. Berlin: de Gruyter. Alföldy, Géza. 1998. “Hispania bajo los Flavios y los Antoninos: consideraciones históricas sobre una época.” In De les estructures indígenes a l’organització provincial romana de la Hispania Citerior, edited by Marc Mayer, Josep Maria Nolla, Jordi Pardo, and Josep Estrada i Garriga, 11–32. Barcelona: Societat Catalana d’Estudis Clàssic. Alföldy, Géza. 2000. “Das neue Edikt des Augustus aus El Bierzo in Hispanien.” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik, 131: 117–132. Alföldy, Géza. 2002. Provincia Hispania Superior. A Coruña: Universidade da Coruña, Servicio de Publicacións. Alföldy, Géza. 2013. “El Imperio romano durante los siglos II y III: continuidad y transformaciones.” In Tarraco christiana ciuitas, edited by Josep Maria Macias and Andreu Muñoz, 13–30. Tarragona: Institut Català d’Arqueologia Clàssica. Alföldy, Géza. 2014. “Hadrians Besuch in Tarraco (HA, H 12, 3–5).” In Historiae Augustae Colloquium Nanceiense. Atti dei Convegni sulla Historia Augusta XII, edited by Cécile Bertrand-Dagenbach and François Chausson, 11–29. Bari: Edipuglia. Álvarez Martínez, José María. 2018. La ciudad romana de Regina. Badajoz: Dirección General de Bibliotecas, Museos y Patrimonio Cultural. Álvarez Martínez, José María, and Martín Almagro-Gorbea, eds. 1999. Hispania, el legado de Roma. En el año de Trajano. Zaragoza: Ayuntamiento de Zaragoza. Àlvarez Pérez, Aureli, Ana Domènech de la Torre, Maria Pilar Lapuente Mercadal, Virginia GarcíaEntero, Anna Gutiérrez García-Moreno, Isabel Rodà, Elisabet Kamal Boix, and Sheila Hardie. 2009. Marbles and Stones of Hispania. Tarragona: Institut Català d’Arqueologia Clàssica. Andreu, Javier. 2004. Edictum, municipium y lex. Hispania en época Flavia (69–96 d.C.). British Archaeological Reports International Series 1293. Oxford: Archaeopress. Andreu, Javier, Javier Cabrero, and Isabel Rodà, eds. 2009. Hispaniae. Las provincias hispanas en el mundo romano. Tarragona: Institut Català de Arqueologia Clàssica. Aquilué, Xavier. 2012. Empúries. Municipium Emporiae. Rome: L’Erma di Bretschneider. Arbeiter, Achim, and Dieter Korol, eds. 2015. Der Kuppelbau von Centcelles. Tübingen: Wasmuth. Arce, Javier. 2009. El último siglo de la España romana (284–409), 2nd ed. Madrid: Alianza. Arce, Javier, Serena Ensoli, and Eugenio La Rocca, eds. 1997. Hispania romana, Da terra di conquista a provincia dell’Impero. Milano: Electa. Ariño, Enrique, Sarah Dahí, Ekhine Garcia-Garcia, Jesús Liz, José Rodríguez, Roger Sala, M. Reyes de Soto, and Robert Tamba. 2015. “Intensive Survey in the Territory of Salamanca: Aerial Photography, Geophysical Prospecting and Archaeological Sampling.” Journal of Roman Archaeology, 28: 283–301. Belo I–IX. 1973–2013. Madrid: Casa de Velázquez. Beltrán de Heredia, Julia, ed. 2001. De Barcino a Barcinona (segles I–VII). Les restes arqueològiques de la plaça del Rei. Barcelona: Museu d’Història de la Ciutat. Beltrán Fortes, José, and María Luisa Loza Azuaga. 2018. Esculturas romanas de Asido (Medina Sidonia, Cádiz). Cádiz-Sevilla: Editorial UCA. Beltrán Fortes, José, and Oliva Rodríguez Gutiérrez. 2012. Hispaniae Urbes. Investigaciones arqueológicas en ciudades históricas. Sevilla: Universidad de Sevilla. Beltrán Fortes, José, and Oliva Rodríguez Gutiérrez, eds. 2018. Sevilla arqueológica. La ciudad en época protohistórica, antigua y andalusí. Sevilla: Secretariado de Publicaciones de la Universidad de Sevilla and Ayuntamiento de Sevilla, Instituto de la Cultura y las Artes de Sevilla.

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CHAPTER 36

Gallia Aquitania and Gallia Lugdunensis Jane DeRose Evans

Introduction Julius Caesar conquered Gallia Comata between 58 and 51 bce. In order to administer the province, Augustus divided Caesar’s Gaul into three: Gallia Aquitania, Gallia Lugdunensis and Gallia Belgica (Figure 36.1). These provinces had remained distinct from Gallia Cisalpina (see Marzano, “Italy,” chapter 10 of this volume) and Gallia Narbonensis (see Häussler, “Gallia Narbonensis,” chapter 37 of this volume) throughout the Republic, and would remain so throughout the imperial period. The Belgae, Caesar tells us (Gallic Wars 1.1), differed from those living further south by their language and by the fact that the Romans had had little contact with them in the centuries bce. Augustus segmented the provinces into smaller units called civitates, which seem to have been based on the lands held by particular peoples; he appointed Lyon (Lugdunum) the federal capital of the entire province of Gaul, probably due to its placement on two major rivers that gave access to both the Mediterranean and the interior. Archaeologists working in France have used several different methods to identify and explore sites. One of the more important sources is antiquarian research. Antiquarians mined Caesar’s Gallic Wars and Strabo’s Geography for topographical information; they also collected material from late antique authors who lived in Gaul, such as Sidonius Apollinaris. In the modern era, local priests were often the source for reports about ruins in the countryside, or they conducted early excavations. More recently, archaeologists have used aerial photography, surveys (which can be combined with subsurface testing such as coring or digging test pits), and remote sensing with ground-penetrating radar, resistivity sensors, or magnetometers. Much information continues to come from salvage archaeology, especially in urban sites. The most important source of information continues to be stratigraphic excavations, coupled with prompt publication (for earlier excavations, see especially Grenier 1931–1960).

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 2, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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Figure 36.1  Augustan division of Gaul, with major cities. By John Wallrodt.

Gallia Lugdunensis and Gallia Aquitania feature prominently in discussions of the acculturation of Roman provinces of the imperial period. Scholars describe a multifaceted process that was undertaken both at the regional and the very local level. We expand the discussion to encompass different socioeconomic classes, differing degrees of urbanization, and differing cultures within the provinces. Acculturation is best seen as the physical, social, religious, and cultural changes that together coalesce into a way of life that we call “Roman imperial,” and in Gallia Lugdunensis and Aquitania, as a true Gallo-Roman culture (Drinkwater and Vertet 1992; Woolf 1998, 2011). The changes in Gallia Lugdunensis and Gallia Aquitania appear most clearly to the archaeologist in building materials and forms, pottery, and dress. These physical changes are symptomatic of changes in beliefs, habits, and ways of life, as for instance, the commemoration of the dead in built tombs; changing habits of eating and drinking are limned through the vessels used to contain foodstuffs. Yet archaeologists are also acutely aware of the changes



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that indigenous societies were already undergoing before the Roman conquest. Changes that occur in the second century ce may reflect the aristocracy’s internal need for competitive display more than their desire to reflect the forms of the Mediterranean culture that we call “Roman,” even if the inhabitants used materials available to them from the south. In other words, marking a bright line between “Roman” and “indigenous” is impossible, and archaeologists work within the blurry outlines of the formation of a new culture in imperial period Gaul to understand these changes. Scholars have used these physical changes – or lack of them – to argue for resistance to the Roman model, especially in the countryside or in the continuation of indigenous religious forms. Sometimes, they argue, this erupted into a political and military revolt, such as the rebellion of Julius Florus and Julius Sacrovir in 21 or the establishment of the Gallic Empire in the late third century. Other scholars believe this reading of the evidence downplays the complexity of the situation. For instance, the Gallic emperors are argued to have revolted in order to bind the province more closely to the other western provinces and to maintain a Roman imperial way of life that was threatened by peoples beyond the Rhine (Woolf 2011; Le Bohec 2008; Esmonde Cleary 2008; Drinkwater and Vertet 1992). It is generally agreed that the indigenous aristocracy used the Roman system of patronage and euergetism (which reflected practices already known to their fathers and grandfathers) in order to establish themselves anew after the upheavals Caesar brought. At the same time, they needed to forge bonds with their new rulers. They were instrumental in providing cities and towns with features not found in indigenous towns: orthogonal grids, places of Roman entertainment, Roman-type religious buildings, and, eventually, Roman-type housing. But in keeping with the argument that this process was multifaceted, orthogonal grids were not always imposed on a site, and Roman-type entertainment buildings, religious buildings, and house plans were adapted to meet local needs and desires. The average man or woman in Gaul did not dress as did a man or woman in Italy. Nor would they have eaten or drunk exactly the way their Italian counterparts did. A visitor from Rome would have recognized what the buildings in a city in Gaul were used for, but he still would have felt himself a visitor. Thus, acculturation is not a dominant donor culture imposing itself on a passive subordinate culture, but a complex interplay between or among cultures, creating new forms and new ways of life. By the very end of the period of this study, there was another profound change that is difficult to trace archaeologically. The growth of Christianity and the changes it wrought would more properly be studied in a chapter about late antiquity, for few examples of its reorganization of society have yet been found in the urban fabric of early fourth century cities or towns.

Augustan Reforms Although the Romans were at least nominally in the south of Gaul since the end of the second or beginning of the first century bce, there are few traces of their interest in the area beyond the roads that developed between Hispania and Gallia Transalpina (Ferdière 2005, 57–66). Archaeologists agree that the Gallia that Caesar conquered was in the final stages of a culture called by modern scholars La Tène, or more generally, the late Iron Age. Although it is true that central and western Gaul was culturally diverse, some generalizations can be made (cf. Dietler 1994). The area was largely rural, with most settlements consisting of small, unfortified, nucleated non-urban sites, especially in the north. The major population centers were fortified hilltop sites, oppida, which are considered proto-urban. These were normally placed well away from rivers or marshy areas, and their fortification walls consisted of logs holding compartments of rubble or earth and faced with stone. Houses were constructed of timber and wattle and daub; they were roofed with thatch (Blagg 1990). Pottery moved from

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being mostly hand constructed to being made on the fast wheel; metalworking was sophisticated, both in bronze and iron. Finds of amphorae (Laubenheimer 2013) and other luxury goods imported from the Mediterranean world, and the imitation of Greek and Roman coins by indigenous rulers, show that there was a lively trade with other Mediterranean cultures throughout the second and first centuries bce, and that at least a wealthy aristocratic class was able to afford such goods (Woolf 1998, 106–110; King 1990a, 63; Drinkwater 1990, 211). Caesar’s conquest not only brought about important political realignments among the tribes, but the fighting led to depopulation and a general stagnation in the economy. It is unclear if Caesar made headway in reorganizing the province (Ferdière 2005, 84–87; King 1990a, 63). Recovery had to wait until 39/38 bce, when Augustus sent Agrippa to reorganize the province, although it appears that he was largely responsible only for building the network of roads which modern scholars have called the Via Agrippa. In the last quarter of the first century bce, Augustus formally created the three Gauls (Cassius Dio 52.12, 53.22), which remained imperial provinces. Lugdunensis and Aquitania were free from the imposition of colonies. Only Lyon had any troops permanently stationed in the city, at least until the third century, although Boulogne-sur-Mer became the headquarters of the fleet, the classis Britannica. Several towns were given autonomous status, and civitas capitals were assigned. Urbanization of Gaul was the major Augustan reform that permanently changed the indigenous way of life, although traces of the monumentalization of urban centers remains elusive, especially in the north (Ferdière 2005, 93–95, 133–138, 163– 165; MacMullen 2000, 85–123; Woolf 1998, 37–39, 120–121). Some of these urban centers were formed ex nihilo as populations moved out of oppida to unfortified sites (e.g., Levroux, Limoges, Périgueux, Rouen). A few urban centers were founded on former towns or oppida (e.g., Bourges, Paris; Saint-Bertrand-­de-Comminges has been called Pompeian, but no traces of this foundation have yet been located: Esmonde Cleary 2008, 15–17). So little has been excavated of some urban centers (e.g., Saintes) that it is hard to judge the date of their foundation. A few sites remained occupied from the late Iron Age into the empire (e.g., Alesia). Autun was founded to pull the local population away from the fortified stronghold on Mt. Beuvray (Rebourg 1993, 32); people eventually did leave, but only after a generation or more (Le Bohec 2008, 33, 81). Proximity to transportation routes – especially roads and to a lesser extent a river – seems to have driven the decision about where to place new civitates. This variety of foundation stories argues that there was no imperial mandate, but movements to new urban sites may have been the decision of local aristocrats who funded building there (Ferdière 2005, 141–148; Woolf 1998, 113–116, 133–135; May 1996, 12–14). Usually, the first indication of a newly founded urban center was the imposition of an orthogonal grid of streets; it is possible that Roman engineers were imported to lay out the grids. Some have routes that interrupt the grid (e.g., Evreux) and some seem to have several different grids, due to topography of the site (e.g., Lyon); rarely, if ever, is the orthogonal grid simply imposed on the site. Several urban centers have ambitious grids that were not filled until much further into the first century (e.g., Clermont-Ferrand). Along with the city plan came the desire to place tombs and graves outside city limits, generally along major thoroughfares. This, too, indicates a new way of thinking about the city, for late Iron Age burials were not always thus isolated. Strabo (Geography 4.2) suggested that rivers carried the bulk of transported goods in Gaul; we also know of important land routes that were built after the Augustan period. The main east–west road from Lyon to Saintes (and later Bordeaux) is still attested by sections of paving and many milestones. Lyon was also the hub to reach north: from there, roads ran to Paris and Boulogne-sur-Mer, branching into Gallia Belgica. These roads lay on older routes, but the paved roads, milestones, and bridges were evidence of the administration of the province and enhanced its economic development, especially in the interior.



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Thereafter, monumental centers are thought to have been built based on the models available to the indigenous elite in northern Italian cities such as Turin, Aosta, or Piacenza, although there is often little evidence for the Augustan phases of urban centers in Aquitania and Lugdunensis. Several building types were borrowed from Italian cities, including the forum, the basilica, and the temple. Urban centers were unwalled and ungated in the Augustan period, although Autun did have Augustan-style gates at four entrances to the town, like those found in Nîmes (Nemausus) and Narbonne (Narbo Martius) in Gallia Narbonensis, and Augst (Augusta Raurica) in Germania (Le Bohec 2008, 34, 57; Esmonde Cleary 2008, 52; Ferdière 2005, 126, 200–206; Woolf 1998, 116–120; Rebourg 1993, 42–55; King 1990a, 71; Février 1990, 180–185; Sillières 1990). One specialized monument, a trophy, stood in Saint-Bertrand-de-Comminges (Lugdunum Convenarum), and as much else in that town, it has parallels in Narbonensis (q.v.) but not the Three Gauls. Although later dismantled, it was originally found in a building in the nearby Forum. The trophy was intended to show the naval and terrestrial victories of Augustus and should be interpreted as a monument to the inclusion of the people of the city within the greater Roman world (Esmonde Cleary 2008, 31–34, 53; May 1996, 39–41).

The Provincial Capital Lyon We do not yet fully understand the earliest phases of Lyon. The small finds from excavations show that the people living there were already in contact with the wider Mediterranean, possibly as early as the second century bce. L. Munatius Plancus officially founded the city in 43 bce with colonists from the neighboring city of Vienne (Cassius Dio 26.29, 50; Claudius Ptolemaeus, Geography 2.8.17). Sometime between 20 and 13 bce, when Agrippa and then Augustus were in residence, Lyon was renamed Colonia Copia Augusta Lugdunum, and became the provincial capital of Lugdunensis. It housed an imperial mint and a cohort of imperial troops, perhaps to protect the mint. At the completion of the census of 12 bce, Drusus dedicated an altar to the imperial cult. The Altar of the Three Gauls and its federal sanctuary are agreed to have stood on the slopes of the Croix-Rousse (Figure 36.2). Lyon became the center for the imperial cult in Gaul; associated with it was an annual provincial council, which brought together the aristocrats of the sixty tribes of the Three Gauls. Although the altar is described by Strabo (Geography 4.3.2), pictured on bronze coins issued from the Lyon mint, and fragments of its enclosure exist in the Musées Gallo-Romains, there is still some debate over its exact form, since its foundations have not yet been found. After its installation, Gallic benefactors took major roles in building at Lyon. For instance, under Tiberius the “classical” amphitheater (see below), very likely intended not only for meetings of the tribal delegates, but also for shows during festivals, was funded by C. Julius Rufus (and his son?) from Saintes, the capital of Aquitania. The infrastructure of the city largely dates to the later first century. Archaeologists have uncovered a palatial residence built ca. 10–20 ce, with mosaic floors, a peristyle, atrium, and private bath suite, in a privileged area near the theater; this was possibly the praetorium of the governor. Its earlier phase of 20 bce has led to it being called the house of Agrippa. The theater itself may have had a “primitive” phase, which would likely be due to its use as a gathering point for political and cultic needs; it was monumentalized only under Nero. The odeon may be Augustan in date. Nearby is a Roman-style temple of the imperial cult housed within a three-sided portico; though only the podium remains, it was identified by fragments of statue bases for the imperial family. Lyon’s forum is known in outline only, and the basilica may date to a period after Augustus. The basilica, curia, and a Roman-style temple placed within porticoes outlined the shape of the Gallo-Roman forum in the first century. Farther from the center are baths on the Rue des Farges dating to the Claudian period. Two

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Figure 36.2  Sketch plan of Lugdunum. By John Wallrodt from Ruthven on Wikimedia commons, https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Colonia_romana_di_Lugdunum_-_map_it.png.

aqueducts furnished the city with water: one is traditionally said to have been built with Agrippa’s patronage, the other may have been due to Augustus (Le Bohec 2008, 66–74; Le Mer and Chomer 2007, 181–190; Goodman 2007, 129–133). An important aspect of Lyon is the pottery workshops of La Muette, located in its suburbs. Production began when Ateius or one of his freedmen opened a workshop, importing molds and probably workmen from Arezzo. Ateius brought with him the technology to make bowls, plates, and cups in the Italian manner; today, petrological analysis of the clay body is needed to differentiate between Ateius’ Italian products and those made in La Muette. Yet the pottery industry is curiously brief in Lyon; Ateius himself seemed to decamp quickly to La Graufesenque (King 2013, 107; Oxé, Comfort, and Kenrick 2000; see also Hitchner, “Roads and Waterways,” chapter 3 of this volume).



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Augustus installed an imperial mint ca. 15 bce, perhaps because Lyon was in a tax-rich imperially controlled province, on a transit point between the silver mines of Spain and the troops on the Rhine. The penetration of coins into central Gaul shows that the army was the primary user, but merchants and middlemen should not be forgotten as agents for the introduction of use of coin to the provinces (Wolters 2012; Howgego 2013). The mint produced gold, silver and (briefly) copper-alloy coins through the reign of Caligula. Under Nero and the Flavians, it was the only mint producing bronze coins in the western provinces. Imperial denominations, types, and legends provided models, and the bronze coins were intensively used, as seen by the number of halved and countermarked examples. Coins were not only a reflection of the incorporation of Gaul into the empire, but themselves helped to form the identity of the new inhabitants as “Roman.”

Life Outside the Urban Centers Gaul had few large urban centers and many smaller towns, villages, and farms throughout the imperial period. Secondary agglomerations (sometimes called towns or vici) were sprinkled throughout, and these were likely home to more people than lived in urban centers. There were also groups of buildings with varying purposes: those for cultic use; workshops; houses; public buildings; even cemeteries and large aristocratic tombs. The secondary agglomerations can have distinct nuclei or be strung along a road. Normally, they were placed alongside Roman roads, and are more common in some areas than others (e.g., the Massif Central was home to few). It has been suggested that in denser areas they were placed about a day’s walk from each other, to facilitate trade. Often, the villages of the late Iron Age show little to no impact of the Augustan reforms, but maintained their building materials and forms through the early part of the first century, even if they were densely clustered in the Aquitanian countryside. If they did develop monumental buildings, they seem to have done this in the same order as the urban centers – first a forum or public area, then buildings for entertainment. Scholars have formed such settlements into typologies that reflect different uses, from market centers for the surrounding area to urbanized suburbs of major towns; from religious sanctuaries to imperial relay stations. We assume that these secondary agglomerations were governed by the civitas council, the decuriones. Yet their lack of orthogonal grid, city planning, inscriptions, or euergetic projects show that aristocratic energy focused elsewhere in the Augustan period. Secondary agglomerations became increasingly important in the acculturation of the Gallic countryside and remained essential links between the villas and farms, and the towns and cities (Goodman 2007, 103, 158–175; Ferdière 2005, 233–241; Woolf 1998, 121, 130–147; King 1990a, 84). A myriad of farms were scattered across Gaul. Although archaeologists have tried to trace field systems, there is little evidence for centuriation; the centuriation of Lyon may be more of a modern construct than ancient. The farms are mostly known through aerial photography, isolated finds or surveys, leading to a problematic division between “farm” and “villa.” The sites can range from a cluster of small buildings to larger structures. They tend to be placed at some distance from even secondary agglomerations, but it is unclear whether farms were dependent on villas or independent holdings. The buildings do not show changes from their late Iron Age predecessors until the mid-first century. The farms produced grain to feed the inhabitants of the urban centers and troops on the Rhine; rye and oats were newly introduced. Viticulture was important especially in the Rhône valley, but spread to all of Gaul by the end of the first century, and olive trees were planted in the warmer regions. The raising of a larger form of beef cow and domesticated pig meant the replacement of local, smaller varieties. The Mediterranean trilogy of wheat, oil, and wine remained to some extent within the urban centers; most non-aristocrats in Gaul used butter or animal fat instead of expensive

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olive oil, and drank beer. New technical processes included different ways to store grain, to cut wood, and to drain marshes, all of which helped to extend the market for agricultural goods, both on the local and regional levels (Le Bohec 2008, 180–203; Ferdière 2005, 214–216, 226–233; Brun 2005, 5, 105, 113–117, 174–176; Woolf 1998, 142, 148–159; King 1990a, 98–103). Besides the land, other resources were exploited. Metals were mined, forests were harvested, fish were farmed or caught, even a few garum installations are known. A procurator in charge of obtaining iron is named in an inscription in Lyon, suggesting that at least some of the iron mines in Gaul were controlled by the imperial house. In some areas, especially around Saint-Bertrand-de-Comminges in the south of Aquitania, quarries supplied the new cities with marbles or other stones from the mid-first century on; quarrymen’s altars are common in that area (Esmonde Cleary 2008, 102–104; Ferdière 2005, 229, 246; King 1990a, 105, 120–123).

The First Century Urbanization The pace of acculturation accelerated in the first and second centuries. A milestone was reached in 48 when Claudius allowed monied, landed citizens from these provinces to take seats in the Roman Senate; his speech, engraved on bronze, is in the Musée Gallo-Romain in Lyon (CIL 13.1668). Building flourished in the Claudian period, probably because of imperial attention to the province of the emperor’s birth. Another sort of milestone was reached in 68: the revolt of G. Julius Vindex, a noble Aquitanian and governor of Lugdunensis, who rebelled against Nero and threw in his lot with Galba (Cassius Dio 63.22). The revolt was quickly put down, and for 150  years no other Gaul is recorded to have meddled in imperial succession (Ferdière 2005, 176–183; Woolf 1998, 21). The economy of the first century was robust, and most scholars think of the Flavian period as its apogee. Domitian’s edict against viticulture outside Italy seems to have had little to no effect (Suetonius, Domitian 7.2; Brun 2005, 147). This century shows the maximum diversity in the origins and products of amphorae. Although wine was imported from Italy, Tarraconensis, Baetica and the East, the great majority of first century amphorae found on sites were made in Narbonensis; secondary sources were the Oise and Aisne valleys (Laubenheimer and Marliere 2010, 96; Brun 2005, 105, 118, 174–177). A middle class of artisans and merchants formed and became the backbone of the consumer culture that drove the rise of the pottery industry and the importation of luxury goods, as well as changes in building styles and materials. Archaeologists’ reports detail the rise in number of small finds in every site from this period, and the ambitious grids laid out in several urban centers in the Augustan period began to fill with houses and workshops (Drinkwater 1990, 211–213). The pottery works established in La Graufesenque in the Augustan period expanded tremendously, and further manufacturing sites were planted in Montans and Banassac. The quality and quantity of vessels produced here is reflected in excavation reports wherever vessels from this manufactory have been found, from Britain to North Africa to the Middle East (see Hudson, “Pottery and Foodways,” chapter 5 of this volume). As excavations have shown, manufacturing reached a high level and specialization was typical of the industry. The largest kiln in La Graufesenque fired at least ten thousand vessels at one time, though it is very likely that work there was seasonal (Figure 36.3). Only part of the site has been excavated, but besides the kilns, workshops, housing, and a small sanctuary all date from the Augustan period to about 120 (Lewit 2013; King 2013, 106–113; Bourgeois 1995; Guéry 1990).



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Figure 36.3  View of the largest kiln excavated at la Graufesenque. Wikimedia commons, Claude Valet, https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:LaGraufesenqueGrandFourDePotiers.jpg.

The population of Gaul increased, as we know from developing urban centers and newly placed towns, villages, and secondary agglomerations. Most towns acquired monumental centers in this century. On the periphery, but a vital part of the growing urban centers, were spectacle buildings, normally theaters; aqueducts and baths were incorporated into the urban fabric, along with fountains, and less regularly, macella (markets), seats of corporations, and other public amenities. These were built with stone, and shaped like buildings further south, in Narbonensis and Italy. Where documented, all were given by local benefactors. Houses were also built of stone (either blocks or petit appareil, small stones) and began to center on peristyles and be richly decorated. The urban model of embellishment was followed to a lesser degree by the larger towns (Ferdière 2005, 202–213). Normally, a forum complex was one of the earliest monumental buildings in the urban center, although it is unidentified or at least highly uncertain in a surprising number of cities (Bordeaux, Rouen, Saintes, Meaux, Autun). Characteristic of a Gallo-Roman forum is the presence of a basilica, curia, and Roman-style temple, the last placed within a rectangle of porticoes much like the Imperial Fora in Rome. The porticoes housed shops, some with evidence of doors that could be locked when the market was finished for the day. Occasional but specific to Gaul is a cryptoporticus that occasionally outlined the forum, as in Paris. One of the best-known examples of a Gallic forum complex is Saint-Bertrandde-Comminges (Aupert and Sablayrolles 1990, 284–286; Rebourg 1993, 64; King 1990a, 76). Excavated in the early twentieth century, it consists of two parts, the Forum Temple and the Forum proper. The former is a Roman-style hexastyle temple on a high podium, accessed via two lateral stairways, and enclosed on three sides by a porticoed walkway. It has a return of two columns in the porch and contains a single cella. Positioned in front of it is a square altar, which the excavators preferred to see as a statue base. The building is made of limestone, and so clearly predates the opening of the marble quarries near the city; its architectural style dates to the Tiberian period. Only tantalizing hints remain as to the deity worshiped within;

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an attribution to the imperial cult is not strongly attested. The Forum Temple backs up against the rectangular Forum, separated only by a street. No basilica is known, and the Forum as restored today mostly dates to the second century, built after a devastating fire in the Flavian period. If it followed the overall plan of the earlier, possibly Tiberian, forum, there were porticoes on at least two sides, and shops were placed behind the long side portico. Statues of the imperial family once decorated this area (Esmonde Cleary 2008, 37–43; Sablayrolles and Beyrie 2006; May 1996, 37–39). Buildings for Roman spectacles seem to have been the next thing built in civitas capitals; amphitheaters, where present, were decidedly later than theaters, while only Lyon and Autun (and possibly Saintes) had a circus. Theater builders normally used a preexisting hillside on which to place the serried rows of seats, so they were outside the center of town. These theaters tend to be smaller than their cousins in Narbonensis, although whether this is due to smaller population or fewer resources is difficult to tell. The seating is normally semicircular, with a scaenae frons and stage closing it; archaeologists call this the “classical” theater type because of its dependence on Greco-Roman models. This type is found, for instance, in Autun, the largest theater in Gaul, which might have held 12,000 people. As noted above, Lyon had an odeon as well as a theater, making it unique in Lugdunensis and Aquitania. A second type of theater, the “Gallo-Roman,” was more common in Gaul: the full curve of its cavea (sometimes horseshoe-shaped) was interrupted by access corridors to the interior, the proscenium was usually moved toward the cavea, and sometimes its wings were extended beyond the scaenae frons. The resulting orchestra was enlarged to provide a more flexible space for different types of shows. The Gallo-Roman theater type is found all over Aquitania and Lugdunensis, in towns and secondary agglomerations (Goodman 2007, 139–142; Woolf 1998, 122; Matter 1992; Dumasy and Fincker 1990; Rebourg 1993, 72–76). The amphitheater was a Roman introduction for new forms of entertainment which included gladiator fights. It is clear that these entertainments were taken up with great enthusiasm, judging by representations of gladiators on lamps and glass vessels, in mosaics and terracotta figurines. Tacitus pronounced one type of heavily armored fighter, crupellarii, as deriving from Lugdunensis (Annals 3.43; Junkelmann 1990). Amphitheaters, which tend to survive, at least in part, into the modern period, are found on the urban periphery, likely due to space limitations. This meant, however, that people from the countryside had easier access to the building. The impulse for building and funding the shows must have come from the urban elite. Amphitheaters only appear in the Flavian period (with one exception), since their model was the Colosseum. Amphitheaters also took two different forms. The “classical” type, with fully oval seating area surrounding the arena floor, was more common in civitas capitals; a large number of cities boasted them, including Bordeaux, Limoges, Périgueux, Poitiers, Rodez, Saint-Bertrandde-Comminges, Saintes, Autun, Lyon, and Meaux (Goodman 2007, 142–148; Busson 1998, 119–135; Rebourg 1993, 76–77; Dumasy and Fincker 1990). The Gallo-Roman type (edifice mixte or amphithéatre à scene) cut the oval with a stage on one side, probably allowing the building to function as both a theater and amphitheater. Unlike the Gallo-Roman theater, however, the arena was completely enclosed, allowing the spectators safety as they watched the gladiator fights or animal hunts. In Paris, the remains of “Les Arènes” testify to the entertainment possibilities, especially with the high wall placed between arena and spectators. Partially built into a hillside and entirely of petit appareil masonry (none are known to have been built with large stone blocks), it probably dates to the first century. Approximately one third of the seating capacity was given up in order to insert the stage and scaenae frons, though it is not clear why; Paris already had a theater, so it does not seem to have been for economy’s sake. As happened to most amphitheaters in Gaul, the building was despoiled when it fell out of use in the late empire.



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Another sort of entertainment, the daily bath, was also introduced by the Romans; this too needed a specific type of building, but there is less of a standard architectural typology. The bath buildings of Saint-Bertrand-de-Comminges are not well known, due to when they were first excavated, but the earliest, called “Forum Baths” after their location, date to the early first century. They were probably joined by the North Baths in the same century, even if only the second century renovation of the latter building is well known. The Forum Baths had all the normal rooms of a Roman bath, including a natatio in a peristyle court, frigidarium, tepidarium, and caldarium, in a 50 × 100 m building aligned with the buildings of the Forum. The floors were paved with marble from the local St-Béat quarries, augmented with colored marbles on the walls. The thickness of the walls indicates that the main rooms were vaulted, although in stone, not concrete. The evocative Cluny Baths in Paris, with some vaults still intact, are one of several known baths in the city (Esmonde Cleary 2008, 34–37, 51, 66–68; Bouet and Saragoza 2008; Busson 1998, 141–162; May 1996, 42–43). Urban bath buildings need aqueducts, and although the dates of surviving aqueducts are not well established, their construction must have occurred in conjunction with the public baths. Most aqueducts were underground channels, but the longest and most impressive – the Aqueduct du Gier, one of four that served Lyon in the imperial period – carried water for 85 km, sometimes on still-standing arches, sometimes through eleven known tunnels; four inverted siphons helped to maintain water pressure. There is some discussion about its date, but opus reticulatum in the arches inclines it toward the early first century. The outlets for aqueducts must have also been monumentalized inside the towns, but little is known of these (Le Mer and Chomer 2007, 205–213; King 1990a, 78; May 1996, 53). The first century was a time of striking innovation in the houses of the elite, when the late Iron Age type house that had persisted into the Augustan period began to change in urban centers and the country. Houses came to be constructed in stone with tile roofs, though wattle and daub for at least the levels above the foundations continued to be used throughout the century. Among the novelties in aristocratic houses were a peristyle court, at least one large and elaborately decorated reception/dining room, and a large entrance, often colonnaded. The peristyle tended to be planted, or at least have trompe l’oeil paintings of gardens. But the sculptures of the Campanian houses are largely missing, even if the garden did contain fountains. In the manner of their Italian peers, houses were decorated with opus caementicium floors and painted plaster walls, especially in “Candelabra style,” an adaptation of the Third Pompeian style much at home in Roman Gaul and Germany. The use of hypocaust heating for rooms other than baths is considered a Gallic innovation, and is found particularly in the colder regions of the Massif Central and northern Lugdunensis, along with window glass to retain the house’s heat. The houses do not conform to a Vitruvian plan, but seem built to accommodate a building lot, available materials and builders, topography of the site, and climate; a standard typology is thus elusive. These comfortable and sophisticated houses retained a place in mixed-use neighborhoods, next door to lesser housing (which looks much like its late Iron Age predecessors, strings of rooms in roughly rectangular form), ateliers, and shops. One of the grandest examples of aristocratic housing is the “Maison des Nones de Mars” in Limoges. Built by the forum on the cardo maximus in the middle of the first century, at over 3700  m2 this stone house dwarfed all others in its neighborhood. It announced its importance by a row of columns in front of its entrance; within, at least twenty-eight rooms were grouped around a large peristyle with a basin in its center, implying a formal garden. Sadly, only a few remains of painted walls survive, but Egyptian blue and red cinnabar on fragments show the expense of the work. A hypocaust indicates either a private bath suite or the Gallic method of central heating. The house’s peristyles, painted plaster, cement floors, and tiles show the adoption of the Roman urban model (however slowly) by the elite, just as they were embracing such models in the public architecture they funded. A grand house in the city was meant to impress

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the aristocrat’s status upon his peers and inferiors; his house was a gauge by which he measured his rise in the nobility of the city (Vipard 2007; Desbat 2007; Goodman 2007, 118– 122; Woolf 1998, 123–124; Balmelle 1990). Tombs were also meant to show the wealth and social status of the family, so as in Roman Italy, cemeteries were placed on major roads leading into the cities, for the twin purposes of visibility to passers-by and ease of access for family. Most burials in the first century were cremations, a practice known in Gaul but never as popular as inhumation until the Roman conquest. The ashes were gathered in a terracotta or glass vessel and interred, along with any goods that had been placed on the bier and further gifts; after a meal, or at least a libation, the pots were broken and also placed within the grave. This was likely marked with some kind of stele, if only a wood plank. Some burials contain a wealth of goods associated with feasting, perhaps a remnant of late Iron Age traditions, but most are more modest. Infants were sometimes buried in amphorae, and can be found grouped in one section of the cemetery. Perinatal children were usually buried below the floors of houses. Roman-style built tombs tend to be found in the east; a good example is the tomb of Q. Calvius Turpio, a decurion in Lyon. In Autun on the road to Lyon, the “Pyramid de Couhard” stands on a 50 m-high base, with the pyramid itself over 27 m tall. Since excavators could not find a burial chamber, they suggested that this might be a cenotaph (Goodman 2007, 150–152; Le Mer and Chomer 2007, 241–242; Ferdière 2005, 272–277; Rebourg 1993, 146–160). The small town of Anderitum, high in the Massif Central, is a good example of a small civitas capital that reflects the urban growth of the first century. The town came into existence in the Augustan period, with the imposition of an orthogonal grid. Three roads could be traced, leading north, northeast, and southwest; the town was a link between Lyon, the highly urbanized market cities in the southeast and south, and the farms (primarily for livestock) in the Massif Central. The early builders laid out a forum and built a basilica. Within the century, buildings with stone foundations, upper walls still of wattle and daub, and tile roofs were built. These included two public baths, a Gallo-Roman type theater with seating on a hillside, and a large public building paved with mosaic. Steep hillsides were terraced to provide space for housing, which was not placed according to the street grid. Although a cultic place stood near the theater – an expected juxtaposition in Aquitania – no temple building was found, and only a magnificent sandstone statue of the Gallic god Sucellus illustrates local religious life. Outside town were cremation burials; one intact grave of the mid-first century shows that the people of Anderitum followed the latest urban burial customs. They imported their finewares primarily from La Graufesenque, with new forms of pottery hinting at changing dietary habits. Anderitum continued to grow in the second century, when the streets were refurbished several times and porticoes were added along their sides. The Augustan civic building was replaced with a much larger one in the shape of a basilica, a new, larger bath was added, and houses decorated with painted plaster appeared in the center of town. The building materials, glass, bronzes, and pottery show a lively trade with cities to north and south (Evans, Ferdière, and Marot 2009).

Secondary Agglomerations As urban centers grew, there were fewer distinctions between urban and suburban spaces. One significant difference was that, as property values in the city rose or pollution and fire threats were assessed, industry tended to move to suburban areas. These industries produced a wide range of products for urban consumption, including all kinds of terracotta (amphorae, loomweights, lamps, figurines, coarsewares, and finewares), metal, bone, and glass objects, and textiles. None appears to have been set up with any idea of zoning, as housing of all kinds is mixed in with these ateliers, and many houses were fronted with shops. It may be that skilled and unskilled workers, as well as owners of the ateliers, lived close by (Le Bohec 2008, 123–154; Goodman 2007, 105–118).



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Semi-urban agglomerations or towns could have their own street grids or monumental buildings, including basilicas, baths, temples, or forums; they could be differentiated from civitas capitals only by legal status (e.g., Alesia). If these settlements included amphitheaters (very rarely), theaters, or temples, they were invariably Gallo-Roman, not the “classical” type found in larger cities. But like their larger cousins, they had within their boundaries a mix of housing and industry, and could be important transportation hubs or ports (Le Bohec 2008, 129–152; Goodman 2007, 175–189). Most secondary agglomerations did not have orthogonal grids or monumental public buildings, and were found at some distance from an urban center. Some may have served specialized functions, such as sanctuaries or thermal establishments (possibly healing baths), and so had very little industrial capacity. But some were clearly industrial or commercial – for instance, producing pottery. They were not self-sufficient, and must have relied on nearby secondary agglomerations producing other materials (Le Bohec 2008, 153–156; Goodman 2007, 191–199; Ferdière 2005, 243; Aupert and Sablayrolles 1990, 288–290).

Villas and Farms The villa is defined by the separation of the pars urbana (residential wing) from the pars rustica (production area); its form was close to that of its Italian counterparts, but with a larger pars rustica. From aerial photography and surveys, we can tell that villa holdings ranged from 2–3 ha to much larger (e.g., the earliest phases of Châtelliers, La Grange du Bief, Montmaurin), though the number of villas in Aquitania and Lugdunensis is much smaller than in Germania or Gallia Belgica. While some villas retained much of their late Iron Age form into the first century, they could exploit some Roman building practices, such as stone socles for wattle and daub walls, roof tiles, porticoes, or painted plaster walls. By the second century, villas took on a recognizable form: sometimes the entrance consisted of a monumental porch, just as in urban dwellings, while living quarters were more luxuriously outfitted and regularly contained bath suites. Sometimes the villa was associated with a small cemetery, which we assume belonged to the owners; this did not occur in Italy. The “hall plan” developed in northern Gaul: in this type of villa, long wings of the pars urbana stood on either side of a central hall, framing the yard. Central courtyard types, more common in central Gaul, had two courts, with the pars urbana and the pars rustica each built around one of them. The emphasis seems to have been on the working area, as the farm component remained more important. New industrial capacities were also added, especially kilns for roof tiles. Villas were clustered near cities or secondary agglomerations, probably for access to markets, building materials, and skilled labor. The villas belonged to a socially differentiated class, who likely had several dependent families nearby in smaller and less elaborate homes. As the size of the villa grew, so did the economic reach of the owner. These expanding villas may tell us that land was being gathered into fewer hands. The owners adopted the Roman means of differentiating themselves from lower classes, as well as the Roman manner of occupying leisure time (Roymans and Derks 2011; Courbot-Dewerdt 2006, 2009; Goodman 2007, 153–157; Ferdière 2005, 215–224; Woolf 1998, 148–168). Although change came slowly, especially in the northwest where the population was less altered by immigration or colonization, during the course of the first century, fields began to be marked by ditches and regularized into rectangular parcels. Just as slowly, the houses became roofed with tiles, with plastered and whitened walls. Although we have little specific information about farms, it is likely that a huge proportion of the people lived in a rural environment (Courbot-Dewerdt 2006; Goodman 2007, 154; Brun 2005, 126–127, 178).

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Second through First Half of the Third Century Urban Centers With a few exceptions, the second century was the apogee of population density and economic prosperity, though by the century’s end, Lyon was engulfed in the war between Clodius Albinus and Septimius Severus (Le Mer and Chomer 2007, 187–188; Ferdiére 2005, 183– 186). Although no material culture tells us about the spread of Christianity, it is in Lyon, where Blandina and her companions were put to death in 177, that we first hear of a body of Christians (Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History 5.1). Amphorae show that wine was rarely imported any longer, probably due to the production and quality of local wines or those from Narbonensis, though perhaps a lack of specialized labor or drop in population in Gaul led to a decrease in production and demand. Much Gallic wine was certainly shipped in wooden barrels, especially to the military on the Rhine (barrels were noted by Strabo and Pliny the Elder as being a Gallic phenomenon; they are seen in a relief now in Avignon). The demand for garum dissipated, but Baetican olive oil was imported in great quantity. Trade still passed up the Rhône river valley, but the Aude-Garonne-Atlantic coastal route became increasingly important in the second century (Laubenheimer and Marlière 2010, 97; Brun 2005, 118–119). The economic center of the provinces seems to have shifted to the east. Terra sigillata was no longer made in any quantity at La Graufesenque after the middle of the second century, perhaps due to overharvesting of wood or changes in trade routes. Instead, the producers moved to smaller-scale sites, the biggest of which was Lezoux, in central Gaul. While the technique and quality of the pieces remained the same, decoration was more modest and sometimes only consisted of appliqué on simple shapes. Much of the pottery was still sent to troops along the Rhine and Danube, but over the course of the century, the demand for sigillata appears to have waned. By the end of the second century, production shifted once again, as the potteries in Gallia Belgica initiated production (Goodman 2013; Lewit 2013; King 2013, 113–123; Guéry 1990). Civitas capitals obtained, for the most part, an orthogonal grid, at least in the urban center; a forum consisting of a basilica, temple, and porticoes; a theater and sometimes a “classical” amphitheater; and cemeteries around the perimeter along the major routes in and out of the city. Houses were made with stone and contained painted plaster walls and polychrome mosaics or opus sectile floors in the finer rooms. The houses normally contained at least one room heated by hypocausts, and/or added bath suites. But even richer houses (such as on the Rue des Farges, Lyon) were still found in neighborhoods that had lesser housing, shops, and some ateliers (Le Mer and Chomer 2007, 210; Ferdière 2005, 190–206, 279–282; Balmelle 1990, 349–355). One example of an expanded second century civitas capital is Périgueux, with its forum surrounded on three sides by a portico that extended past the older basilica. Next to it was a large wall surrounding the “Tour de Vésone,” a round tower temple of a type more usually found in the countryside. The center was an orthogonal grid, and an earlier “classical” amphitheater stood on the outskirts of the city. An aqueduct-fed bath building of uncertain date was also found outside the center. Houses were refurbished to include baths, decorated reception rooms, heated rooms, and peristyle gardens. Mosaics from a workshop known from Vienne were found in these reception rooms (Girardy 2013). Beginning in the second century, the people of Aquitania and Lugdunensis followed an Italian trend and returned to inhumation as the primary manner of disposing of the dead. Increasingly, graves were marked by sculpted stelai, which often give us a glimpse of the life of the middle-class craftsman or shopkeeper. Though they were often reused in later city



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walls and thus can be dated only by style means, parallels to sculpted stelai in Germany help place them in context. They show the costume commonly worn by this class: men wore a tunic reaching to the knee, often with long sleeves, and over this a cape and hood, while women wore a similar, though longer, tunic (or two layered for warmth), sometimes with a belt at the waist. They could throw a cape over all, and both sexes fastened their cloaks with decorative fibulae. The different shapes of the fibulae act as chronological markers for the high and late empire (Le Bohec 2008, 280–284; Esmonde Cleary 2008, 109–112; Ferdière 2005, 272–285; cf. Rebourg 1993, 151–158).

Secondary Agglomerations, Particularly Sanctuaries The modern world is still fascinated by Druids and human sacrifice as practiced by late Iron Age peoples. Augustus outlawed both (though Claudius had to reinforce the law on Druids), and this remains the most prominent imperial interference in the indigenous way of life. The ruler cult was introduced to most cities; some local gods were given physical forms and syncretized with Roman gods, though others retained their exclusive Gallic identities in name and attributes. Terracotta figurines of a mother nursing twins are found all over the provinces, testifying to a local attachment for a goddess seldom pictured further south. The second century saw a wave of innovation in religious structures built outside the civitas capitals. Most probably predated the conquest, although changes to the forms, materials, and types of architecture occurred after. Although we rarely know who was worshiped in them, due to a lack of epigraphic “habit” (Woolf 1998, 78–96), they took several forms: large temples; shrines; thermal healing springs with associated baths and shrines; and theater or amphitheater complexes. They could be in the countryside, with small habitation sites around them, or in or near secondary agglomerations; many were near water. Scholars assume that the gods worshiped were primarily indigenous, and thus the euergetism that responded to the need for such sanctuaries was intensely local. The “Jupiter columns” scattered in the north (e.g., Cussy-la-Colonne in Burgundy; cf. the “Pilier des Nautes” in Paris) show this indigenous religious expression in a very straightforward way, as do the wooden votives, placed in sanctuaries with coins (often mutilated) and miniature weapons. Most sanctuaries were surrounded by a precinct wall, but the cella could be quadrangular, circular, or polygonal, and surrounded by a square gallery (fanum), which could be single or sometimes twinned (Figure 36.4). The central plan was a continuation of indigenous practice; the larger fana had painted plaster walls, tile roofs, and Romanized architectural ornamentation. Few had altars out front; we cannot reconstruct their rituals beyond the feasting attested by shattered cups and plates. One of the best-known sanctuaries is La Bauve, near Meaux. Here two fana, circular on the interior but with quadrangular exterior walls, were linked to each other by their exterior colonnaded galleries and a colonnaded walkway. The fana were built as towers, and the whole was enclosed with a precinct wall. At the end of the first or beginning of the second century a theater was added on a nearby terrace and the enclosure wall was adorned with a monumental entrance. As usual for theaters associated with religious sanctuaries, it was of the Gallo-Roman type. We assume the theaters were used for religious dramas, even if the cavea was not normally positioned so the spectators could see the temple. The addition of a theater to the sanctuary has been seen as an innovation borrowed from Italy (Häussler 2012; Goodman 2007, 128–142; Ferdière 2005, 266–272; Van Andringa 2002; Woolf 1998, 206–229; Fincker and Tassaux 1992; Chevallier 1992; King 1990a, 136–149, 1990b).

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Figure 36.4  Modern reconstruction of a fanum, Beaune, France. By Christophe.Finot - Own work, CC BY-SA 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1068862.

“The Barbarians Are Coming! The Barbarians Are Coming?”: The Second Half of the Third Century The second half of the third century has been seen as a period of great disruption, when urban centers were besieged by the Alemanni and Frankish “barbarians,” populations dwindled, and edifices were despoiled in order to throw up defensive walls. No new buildings appeared in the urban landscapes, and the economy showed signs of contraction and localization. Rural sanctuaries declined, although they were not abandoned until the fourth century. According to our ancient sources and hoard evidence, political institutions changed with the establishment of the Gallic Empire, inflation was rampant, and brigands roamed the countryside. Thus, archaeologists considered any fire or destruction on an archaeological site part of the third century collapse of the Roman way of life. More recently, scholars have been challenging this gloomy outlook and seeing more local changes to the imperial period lifestyle, not always brought about by outsiders. This has come about through several ways of rethinking the material evidence: archaeologists now understand site strata as fires and destructions that occurred over a wider span of time than previously thought, and a lack of evidence for widespread destruction may indicate local and house fires, common in wood or partly wooden structures. In addition, new findings in areas of Gaul, especially the north, have made the dating of defense walls uncertain (Goodman 2007, 201–224; Ferdière 2005, 296–303; Février 1990, 186–188; King 1990a, 174–184).



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In 260, the German armies as well as the people of Gaul recognized Postumus as emperor; the capital of the provinces shifted from Lyon to Cologne (Colonia Agrippina) in Germania. Aurelian brought them back into the Roman Empire in 274, but the empire was plagued afterward by short-lived emperors, increasing financial instability, and possibly more waves of immigration from the East. Carausius ruled northwest Gaul for a brief period, until he was defeated at Diocletian’s orders. Diocletian split Lugdunensis into Gallia Lugdunensis I-IV, in the diocese of Gaul (along with Belgica I and II and Germania I and II). Lyon was no longer the federal or even diocesan capital, though it remained a provincial capital. Aquitania was similarly split and became Gallia Aquitania I – III (the last sometimes called Novempopulana) in the diocese Viennensis (which also included the Alpine provinces, Viennensis and the Narbonnaise provinces; see Figure 36.5). Diocletian installed an important arms manufactory in Autun to produce cataphract armor and artillery, a visible imposition of the central government’s role in the economy (Esmond Cleary 2008, 90–92; Ferdière 2005, 289–303).

Figure 36.5  Administrative divisions of Gaul ca. 400 ce. By John Wallrodt.

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In the west, ceramic production regained a foothold in the market, yet the remaining production centers contracted, with fewer kilns and smaller output. Distribution networks were disrupted, perhaps as inflation reduced consumer purchasing power, or perhaps because sigillata’s popularity waned in favor of other materials. By the mid-third century, imports of Baetican amphoras show a sharp drop; the shipping route up the Rhône was rarely used to get this product to Britain and the Rhine, even if local consumption continued. Gallic wine was still shipped north, though increasingly in barrels rather than amphorae (King 2013, 123–134; Laubenheimer and Marliere 2010, 98). Quantities of imitation coins poured from unofficial mints in Gaul, supplementing those minted in Gaul by the Gallic emperors. Some were plated denarii and can truly be called counterfeits. Others were imitations of imperial base-metal coins, but since they are crude and seriously underweight, it is uncertain whether they are counterfeits or unofficial copies that the government tolerated due to the shortage of coin in the region. The mint at Lyon reopened in the third century and appears to have struck large numbers of coins, though many were in a crude style. By the later third century, the loss of tax revenue (especially during the Gallic Empire) and lack of access to ores limited the number of imperial issues. The mints produced coins with a copper alloy core and a thin wash of silver on the surface. Imitations of these, known as “barbarous” or imitation radiates, were produced especially after 274. Named after the emperor’s crown that was supposed to be a mark of denomination, these sometimes outnumbered genuine radiates on a site, although this may only be a measure of how quickly they were discarded once the coinage was reestablished. Even so, they circulated widely, even to appearing in coin reports from the Roman East. Aurelian reformed the coinage, which ended the production of these imitations, and imported “retired” coins from other parts of the empire to give small change to Gaul. Most scholars think that hoards dated to the later third century (some breathtakingly large – one found in Troyes-Porte de Chaillouet contained about 190,000 coins) were probably buried due to invasions of the Franks and Alemanni (Bland 2012; Bourne 2001; yet see Estiot 2012). Some scholars have proposed that the third century had a “Celtic renaissance” as older forms of art and the worship of Celtic deities resurfaced, along with decreasing attention to the imperial cult. Sigillata and metalwork show a diminishing interest in classical iconography and figural decoration. Cities switched names from those of the early empire to reflect the name of the tribe (e.g., Lutetia, renamed for the Parisii). The argument is that these are marks of the resurgence of earlier lifestyles and the decline in empire-wide style; however, the return to the past may be an affectation of a more local identity (Le Bohec 2008, 305–306; King 1990a, 179).

Urban Centers Aquitania and Lugdunensis show little evidence of major building (beyond ramparts; see below); the cities had already acquired the accoutrements of a Roman city and there would have been little need to build anew. Only a few cities saw new buildings or major refurbishments, as at the Forum Baths in Saint-Bertrand-de-Comminges. Lyon’s center of gravity shifted from the heights to the riversides, where residential quarters showed vibrant activity and the theater and odeon still seem to have been used. But the city did break into smaller units, each isolated within its own neighborhood, as the population dwindled (Esmonde Cleary 2008, 92–93; Le Bohec 2008, 296–301; Le Mer and Chomer 2007, 188–191; Aupert and Sablayrolles 1990, 291). A military camp, the Tranquistan fort, was inserted between the urban center and the cemeteries (independent of the town?) near Saint-Bertrand-de-Comminges, probably at the end of the second or beginning of the third century; the date is proposed partly due to its “classical” Roman rectangular shape, with stone walls, gates, and towers. The space outside one gate was metalled, so was likely to have been a campus or parade and training ground.



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Nearby was a bath building that may have served both the soldiers and their families. Excavators are uncertain why the fort was built, but have suggested that it was to protect nearby marble quarries or the imperial customs post that an inscription documents as centered in the town (Esmonde Cleary 2008, 85–86; Goodman 2007, 224–226). Where it was once axiomatic that defense walls were built in the 260s and 270s, scholars now understand that the dates of ramparts very often rest on insufficient – or even no – material evidence; the reasons for construction of these walls are not always clear, and some cities were never walled. The ramparts of Clermont-Ferrand (Augustonemetum), Tours (Turonum), Orléans (Aurelianum), Dax, Périgueux, Saint-Bertrand-de-Comminges, and Poitiers (Limonum) may date to the late fourth century; those of Limoges appear to be much later. The walls of Rouen (Rotomagus) have not been dated archaeologically. But all the walls encompass a much smaller urban center than at the height of urban development, and often leave important earlier monuments or even houses outside the circuit. Monuments from the civic center and from earlier cemeteries were dismantled to build these walls; their spoliation may not have been due to haste, but certainly indicates that the Romanized monumental buildings or family tombs were no longer needed (Février 1990, 189–190; King 1990, 177–178).

Villas and Farms Although it appears that the number of villas dropped in the third century, the ones that remained were monumentalized, expanded, given more complex plans, and luxuriously appointed with mosaics, marble, and other lavish decor. Montmaurin is a spectacular example of the enlarged, luxurious third century villa, which expanded further in the fourth century. It was about 2000 m2, with over two hundred rooms, some with hypocaust floors, including multiple dining rooms and a bath suite. Three garden courtyards formed its nuclei; visitors entered through a semicircular court flanked by porticoes, featuring a shrine to Jupiter. Rooms were decorated with marble veneer on the walls and opus signinum and mosaic floors. Part of the villa served more practical agricultural purposes, and there was ironworking, brick and tilemaking, and textile production on the grounds, as well as a large garden. In the second half of the century, farms appear to have been abandoned, but this must be linked to the growth in size of villas; perhaps some residents moved to less-sturdy housing that has left few archaeological remains. Farms may have returned to smaller, less easily traced plots, with a subsistence economy that confined products to a very local market. Yet the picture can be quite regional; the loss of viticulture in Lyon is balanced by the rise in vineyards in Bordeaux (Le Bohec 2008, 324–328; Esmonde Cleary 2008, 119–121; Ferdière 2005, 297; Brun 2005, 119–121, 168–169, 177–180; King 1990a, 186).

The First Half of the Fourth Century The construction of ramparts led to a modification of the urban landscape. Shrunken urban centers and the encroachment of cemeteries onto formerly inhabited areas show that there must have been some loss of population. Still, many of the earliest churches were built outside the ramparts, suggesting that the walls were not built to enclose all the city’s inhabited areas. Some cities, like Saintes, seem to have contracted completely inside their walls. The urban center of Lyon shifted to the right bank of the Sâone; the administrative center of Paris withdrew to the Île de la Cité. The real modification of towns was the abandonment of the imperial period’s way of life, as theaters, amphitheaters, and baths were not enclosed within the ramparts, and, along with temples and cemeteries, were used as quarries for the walls. Benefactors’ gifts – beyond the

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building of defense walls, if these were not paid for by the emperor – moved from those ­symbols of Roman urban life to the building of basilican churches, showing a reorientation to new power bases; worship continued in some pagan temples, but not at the level of the second century. Since the Church took over many of the social and religious functions of the Roman buildings, their removal from the landscape did not mean the loss of all social structure, even if it pointed to a new way of life. Both the older and the newer civitas capitals became episcopal seats for the Christian church. Parts of the southwest underwent a “renaissance” in the fourth century, with new construction, restoration of essential buildings, and the laying down of mosaics, though Aquitania was largely left out of this resurgence. Ausonius described a comfortable lifestyle which, except for the God to whom he addressed his morning prayers, sounds much like that of a second century elite counterpart. Eumenius (Latin Panegyrics 9) asked to be allowed to give his wealth to restore the war-ravaged schools of Autun. Stone sarcophagi were made for aristocrats, while farther north, bodies were interred in wooden coffins, with mostly clothing as grave goods, although some rich burials are known. For archaeologists, the chronological divisions of the century are unclear in some areas. While abundant datable base metal coinage was minted, the chronological markers of terra sigillata and amphorae disappeared, largely replaced by perishable containers or local pottery whose chronological horizons still need clarification. Habitation centers underlie modern cities, making excavation of their remains difficult (Goodman 2007, 209–224; Ferdière 2005, 344–361; Woolf 1998, 1–3; Aupert and Sablayrolles 1990, 291–292; Balmelle 1990, 355–364). Most villas outside southern Aquitania were abandoned in the fourth century. Nonaristocratic farmers occupied and reused some villas, whose buildings became nuclei of small towns or villages in late antiquity. Archaeologically, these squatters left ephemeral traces, difficult to distinguish from the late, contracted use of the villas. Farmers moved away from raising cattle and growing wheat to produce more sheep and rye or oats, probably for animal fodder. Trade became more local; a number of small potteries produced derivatives of sigillata, or even built pottery by hand (Goodman 2007, 226–228; Ferdière 2005, 357–360).

Conclusion Gallia Aquitania and Gallia Lugdunensis underwent remarkable changes between the first and fourth centuries. Though we are hampered by a lack of historical texts to explain them, archaeologists are using the material culture unearthed in an expanding number of surveys and excavations to understand the formation of Gallo-Roman cultures (in the plural, as there surely was no single Gallo-Roman culture). Archaeologists can thus trace some of the fertile exchanges between indigenous and foreign Romans by examining the artifacts left behind by merchants and traders, soldiers and craftsmen, farmers and aristocrats. The changes in the first century benefited the aristocracy, but the general peace and expanded trade routes allowed farmers, artisans and traders to benefit as well from a rising standard of living, as seen in the volume of pottery produced in La Graufesenque and Lezoux, in the numbers of imported amphorae, and the rise in the number of (and comforts in) houses and farms. This trade stimulated the culture of consumption that is found all over Gaul. The increase in consumer products reflecting this new lifestyle shows that acculturation was not just happening to the elites, but went much further down the socioeconomic scale. Archaeology is also forcing a reconsideration of the crisis of the third century, as well as the transition to the late antique phase of Gaul. Happily, new excavations and publications of older ones continue to surprise and inform us on the Gallo-Roman ways of life.



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Acknowledgments With warm thanks to Alain Ferdière and an anonymous reviewer for reading and commenting on this; any errors remain my own.

Biographical Note Jane DeRose Evans is a field archaeologist and numismatist who has worked for more than fifteen years in Roman Gaul, and is author/editor of six books, most recently A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Republic (2013) and Coins from the Excavations at Sardis (2018). She has published two corpora of excavation coins, plus on the archaeology of Roman Gaul, the topography of ancient Rome, buildings in Caesarea Maritima, and iconographical studies of particular coin issues.

Abbreviations CIL = Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum. 1823–. Edited by Deutsche Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin. Paris: A. Franck.

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Courbot-Dewerdt, Cécilia. 2006. “Feeling like Home. Romanised Rural Landscape from a GalloRoman Point of view.” In TRAC 2005: Proceedings of the Fifteenth Annual Theoretical Roman Archaeology Conference Which Took Place at the University of Birmingham, 31st March–3rd April 2005, edited by Ben Croxford, H. Goodchild, J. Lucas, and N. Ray, 13–24. Oxford: Oxbow. Courbot-Dewerdt, Cécilia. 2009. “An Alleged Far West: The Romanisation of the Countryside in Western Gaul.” In TRAC 2008: Proceedings of the Eighteenth Annual Theoretical Roman Archaeology Conference, Amsterdam 2008, edited by M. Driessen, S. Heeren, J. Hendriks, F. Kemmers, and R. Visser, 73–82. Oxford: Oxbow. Desbat, Armand. 2007. “Les maisons de Lugdunum,” In Lyon, edited by Anne-Catherine Le Mer and Claire Chomer, 198–204, Carte archéologique de la Gaule 69, no. 2. Paris: Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, Ministère de la Culture. Dietler, Michael. 1994. “‘Our Ancestors the Gauls’: Archaeology, Ethnic Nationalism, and the Manipulation of Celtic Identity in Modern Europe.” American Anthropologist, 96, no. 3: 584–605. Drinkwater, J. F. 1990. “For better or worse? Towards an assessment of the economic and social consequences of the Roman conquest of Gaul.” In The Early Roman Empire in the West, edited by T. F. C. Blagg and Martin Millett, 210–219. Oxford: Oxbow. Drinkwater, J. F., and H. Vertet. 1992. “‘Opportunity’ or ‘opposition’ in Roman Gaul?” In Current Research on the Romanization of the Western Provinces, edited by Mark Wood and Francisco Queiroga, 525–528, British Archaeological Reports International Series 575. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Dumasy, Françoise, and Myriam Fincker. 1990. “Les édifices de spectacle.” In Villes et agglomérations urbaines antiques du sud-ouest de la Gaule: Histoire et archéologie, IIième colloque Aquitania, Bordeaux, 13–15 septembre 1990, edited by Louis Maurin, 293–321, Aquitania Supplément 6. Bordeaux: Fédération Aquitania. Esmonde Cleary, Simon. 2008. Rome in the Pyrenees: Lugdunum and the Convenae from the First Century B.C. to the Seventh Century A.D. London: Routledge. Estiot, Sylviane. 2012. “The later third century.” In The Oxford Handbook of Greek and Roman Coinage, edited by William E. Metcalf, 538–560. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Evans, Jane DeRose, Alain Ferdière, and Emmanuel Marot. 2009. “Anderitum: Excavations in a Roman town in Gallia Aquitania.” American Journal of Archaeology, 113, no. 2: 255–272. Ferdière, Alain. 2005. Les Gaules: Provinces des Gaules et Germanies, Provinces Alpines, IIe siècle av. J.C. – Ve siècle ap. J.C. Paris: Armand Colin. Février, Paul-Albert. 1990. “Approches récentes du fait urbain dans les Gaules.” In Villes et agglomérations urbaines antiques du sud-ouest de la Gaule: Histoire et archéologie, IIième colloque Aquitania, Bordeaux, 13–15 septembre 1990, edited by Louis Maurin, 177–190, Aquitania Supplément 6. Bordeaux: Fédération Aquitania. Fincker, Myriam, and Francis Tassaux. 1992. “Les grands sanctuaires ‘ruraux’ d’Aquitaine et le culte impérial.” Mélanges de l’École française de Rome: Antiquité, 104, no. 1: 41–76. Girardy, Claudine. 2013. Périgueux. Carte archéologique de la Gaule 24, no. 2. Paris: Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, Ministère de la Culture. Goodman, Penelope. 2007. The Roman City and Its Periphery: From Rome to Gaul. London: Routledge. Goodman, Penelope. 2013. “The production centres: Settlement hierarchies and spatial distribution.” In Seeing Red: New Economic and Social Perspectives on Terra Sigillata. edited by Michael Fulford and Emma Durham, 121–136, Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies Supplement 102. London: University of London. Grenier, Albert. 1931–1960. Manuel d’archéologie gallo-romaine, 4 vols. Paris: Picard. Guéry, Roger. 1990. “La terre sigillée en Gaule.” Journal of Roman Archaeology, 3: 361–375. Häussler, Ralph. 2012. “Interpretatio indigena: Reinventing local cults in a global world.” Mediterraneo Antico, 15: 143–174. Howgego, Christopher. 2013. “The monetization of temperate Europe.” Journal of Roman Studies, 103: 16–45. Junkelmann, Marcus. 1990. “Familia gladiatoria: The heroes of the amphitheatre.” In Gladiators and Caesars, edited by Eckart Köhne, Cornelia Ewigleben, and Ralph Jackson, 31–74. Berkeley: University of California Press.



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King, Anthony. 1990a. Roman Gaul and Germany. Berkeley: University of California. King, Anthony. 1990b. “The emergence of Romano-Celtic religion.” In The Early Roman Empire in the West, edited by T. F. C. Blagg and Martin Millett, 220–241. Oxford: Oxbow. King, Anthony. 2013. Coins and Samian Ware. British Archaeological Reports International Series 2573. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Laubenheimer, Fanette. 2013. “Amphoras and shipwrecks: Wine from the Tyrrhenian coast at the end of the Republic and its distribution in Gaul.” In A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Republic, edited by Jane DeRose Evans, 97–109. London: Blackwell. Laubenheimer, Fanette, and Élise Marliere. 2010. Échanges et vie économique dans le nord-ouest des Gaules (Nord/Pas-de-Calais, Picardie, Haute-Normandie): Le témoignage des amphores du IIe s. av. J.C. au IVe s. ap. J.-C., 2 vols. Besançon: Presses universitaires de Franche-Comté. Le Bohec, Yann. 2008. La province romaine de Gaule Lyonnaise (Gallia Lugudunensis) du Lyonnais au Finistère. Dijon: Éd. Faton. Le Mer, Anne-Catherine, and Claire Chomer. 2007. Lyon. Carte archéologique de la Gaule 69, no. 2. Paris: Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, Ministère de la Culture. Lewit, Tamara. 2013. “The mysterious case of La Graufesenque? Stimuli to large-scale fine pottery production and trade in the Roman empire.” In Seeing Red: New Economic and Social Perspectives on Terra Sigillata, edited by Mark Fulford and Emma Durham, 111–120, Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies Supplement 102. London: University of London. MacMullen, Ramsay. 2000. Romanization in the Time of Augustus. New Haven: Yale University Press. Matter, Michel. 1992. “Particularités architecturales des édifices de spectacles en Gaule Lyonnaise.” In Le théâtre antique et ses spectacles. Actes du colloque tenu au Musée archéologique Henri Prades de Lattes les 27, 28, 29 et 30 avril 1989, edited by Christian Landes, 29–36, Spectacula 2. Paris: Editions Imago. May, Roland. 1996. Lugdunum-Convenarum: Saint-Bertrand-de-Comminges. Lyon: Presses Universitaires. Oxé, August, Howard Comfort, and Philip Kenrick. 2000. Corpus Vasorum Arretinorum, 2nd ed. Bonn: Habelt. Rebourg, Alain. 1993. Autun. Carte archéologique de la Gaule 71, no. 1. Paris: Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, Ministère de la Culture. Roymans, Nico, and Ton Derks. 2011. “Studying villa landscapes in the 21st century: A multidimensional approach.” In Villa Landscapes in the Roman North: Economy, Culture and Lifestyles, edited by Nico Roymans and Ton Derks, 1–44. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press. Sablayrolles, Raymond, and Argitxu Beyrie. 2006. Les Comminges. Carte archéologique de la Gaule 31, no. 2. Paris: Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, Ministère de la Culture. Sillières, Pierre. 1990. “Voies de communication et réseau urbain en Aquitaine romaine.” In Villes et Agglomérations urbaines antiques du sud-ouest de la Gaule: Histoire et Archéologie, IIième colloque Aquitania, Bordeaux, 13–15 septembre 1990, edited by Louis Maurin, 431–438, Aquitania Supplément 6. Bordeaux: Fédération Aquitania. Van Andringa, William. 2002. La religion en Gaul romaine: piété et politique, Ier-IIIe siècle après J.-C. Paris: Errance. Vipard, Pascal. 2007. “Maison à péristyle et élites urbaines en Gaule sous l’Empire.” Gallia, 64: 227–277. Wolters, Reinhard. 2012. “The Julio-Claudians.” In The Oxford Handbook of Greek and Roman Coinage, edited by William E. Metcalf, 335–355. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Woolf, Greg. 1998. Becoming Roman: The Origins of Provincial Civilization in Gaul. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Woolf, Greg. 2011. Tales of the Barbarians: Ethnography and Empire in the Roman West. London: Wiley-Blackwell.

CHAPTER 37

Gallia Narbonensis Ralph Haeussler

Introduction Narbonensis provincia (…) breviterque Italia verius quam provincia. “The province of Narbonensis (…) is in short more like Italy than a province.” (Pliny the Elder, Natural History 3.20)

This quote seems to confirm the first impression one might get of southern Gaul. Dominated by impressive cities and villas, it may appear indeed “more like Italy” than many other provinces. But as we shall see, this is not necessarily the case. First, there are enormous regional variations regarding social, political, religious, and cultural expressions: for instance, the people in Vienne’s territory took rather different decisions from those in the south of the province (Haeussler 2014). Second, within this apparently (dare I say) “Romanized” province, we also see particularly localized and seemingly non-Roman phenomena. For Roman archaeologists, it is important to understand the whole picture. Instead of focusing on superficial similarities between sites, we need to seek out diversity. Is our view distorted by the impressive monuments set up by wealthy elite people? It is very easy to get overwhelmed by the magnificent Roman-style monuments that are still visible today, like the Maison Carrée in Nîmes, the splendid theaters or amphitheaters in Arles, Nîmes, Vienne, Orange, Vaison-la-Romaine, and Fréjus, not to mention the impressive Pont-du-Gard, part of Nîmes’s 50 km-long aqueduct. There are also countless luxurious Roman-style villas and domus with high-quality mosaics and wall paintings, rivaling those in Italy, across the province. But we have to remain critical: how representative are these buildings for the whole of Gallia Narbonensis? Does scholarship traditionally focus too much on cities and villas, on the large monumental structures, to the detriment of other evidence that could reveal the lives of the other 95% of the population? In this respect, we also need to analyze the persistence of pre-Roman structures, like proto-urban settlements, pre-Roman art, religion, economy, and writing systems. Overall, the aim is not only to provide an archaeological gazetteer for Gallia

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 2, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



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Narbonensis, but to critically assess the impact of Roman imperialism and how people experienced these changes.

Conquest and Archaeology Gallia Narbonensis covers the territory between the Alps and the Pyrenees, between the Mediterranean Sea in the south and the Cevennes and Jura in the north (Figure 37.1). The “official” conquest took place between 125 and 118 bce when the consul Marcus Fulvius Flaccus was sent to southern Gaul to protect the Phocean colony Massalia (Marseille) from the Salluvii (Bats 1998); the name Salluvii is generally attributed to a group of peoples who lived between the Rhône and the Alpes Maritimae, including the indigenous Iron Age oppida (merely the Latin word for towns, not necessarily on a hilltop site) of Entremont, Glanum, Roquepertuse, Constantine, and Saint-Blaise (Verdin 1998). The conquest culminated in the foundation of Aquae Sextiae (Aix-en-Provence) in 123 bce, Forum Domitii on the Via Domitia (halfway between Nîmes and Narbonne), and the Roman citizen colony of Narbo Martius (Narbonne) in 118 bce (Gros 2008). The latter became the namesake of the province of Gallia Transalpina/ Braccata in Augustus’ reorganization. As one would expect, Roman influence in southern Gaul was present long before that, at least since the Second Punic War (218–201 bce) when Roman armies, merchants, and publicans were frequently moving back and forth from Italy to Spain. Because Marseille had assisted Rome in the First Punic War against Carthage, the Romans already provided military help to Marseille against the Salluvii in 180 bce (Florus, Epitome of Roman History. 1.37.3) and 154 bce (Periochae [Summary] of Livy 47). We can therefore see not only tension between Greeks and “non-Greeks,” but also intensifying trade contacts, like the import of Italian wine, between Italy and Marseille from the third century bce onward. The increasing “Hellenistic” influence in many indigenous settlements can also partly be explained by these “Italian” contacts bypassing Marseille (Mauné 2000; Mullen 2013). Contrary to literary sources, the conquest is hardly visible in the archaeological record; we see more gradual cultural developments than ruptures. Some settlements did suffer, especially the late Iron Age oppidum Entremont, which was destroyed by the Roman consul Sextius Calvinus, who subsequently founded Aquae Sextiae in the plain just south of the hilltop site in 123 bce (Periochae [Summary] of Livy 61; Strabo, Geography 4.1.5; Velleius Paterculus 1.15.4; CAG 13/4). Uprisings by the Salluvii continued, and one of their major towns, Glanon/Glanum, was destroyed in 90 bce (Periochae [Summary] of Livy 73; Roth Congès 2010). More wide-ranging developments in social and cultural structures were largely accelerated between 58 bce and 14 ce. After Caesar, we also see an increasing participation of the local population in empire-wide developments, resulting in more integration and identification: the famous mausoleum of the Iulii in Glanum is a key site, as it shows the participation of elite locals who had received citizenship either under Caesar or the triumvirs (Roth Congès 2010). This was one of many experiences that led to a reorientation not only of the wealthy local elite but of the many people who participated in the wars from Caesar to Augustus. Caesar’s governorship of Gaul saw another uprising by the Salluvii and the siege of Massalia in 49 bce, which resulted in Marseille’s territory – all the way to Olbia – being assigned to Arles (Caesar, Civil War. 1.35.4; CAG 13/5). Up to the end of Augustus’ reign, several veteran colonies were founded, like Arles, Béziers, Orange, and Nîmes; the province’s reorganization was aided by Marcus Agrippa whose actions are attested epigraphically at a number of key sites, like Nîmes and Glanum (CIL XII 3153–3154; ILN 417; CAG 13/2, p. 305; Christol and Goudineau 1987–1988; Roth Congès 2010). The colonia Nemausus had its own mint under Augustus, producing inter alia the famous as/dupondius with chained crocodile and palm tree, celebrating the conquest of Egypt (RPC I 522–525, RIC 154–160). This period,

Figure 37.1  Map of the province Gallia Narbonensis. By John Wallrodt.



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however, marks the end of the numerous local coinages that had continued throughout the first century bce despite the Roman conquest (Py 2006; Feugère and Py 2011). It is essential to understand economic developments when analyzing social and cultural developments in Gallia Narbonensis. In pre-Roman times, there already was an interconnected world. But it is also apparent that trade in this period was not only dominated by Marseille and her emporia and apoikiai, like Agathè, Olbia, and Nikaia, but exchange patterns were also very much controlled both by Marseille and local peoples, and therefore had a rather limited impact on the indigenous settlements (Bats 2012). One of the most visible material objects representing these exchange patterns is Marseille’s wine amphorae: their numbers are surprisingly limited in “native” sites and follow certain “corridors,” despite Marseille’s effort to keep a monopoly in wine, exchanging it for agricultural and mining products (Bouffier 2009). From the second century bce onward, we also find more and more Italian imports, like Dressel 1 wine amphorae and the Campanian black gloss ware (vernice nera). This is nothing compared to the highly entangled web of trade networks that connected southern Gaul with the rest of the empire from the late first century bce onward, when even the more remote areas of Gallia Narbonensis were participating in long-distance trade. Apart from imports from across the empire, local products were also exported empire-wide. Symbolic for this new situation is the transfer of terra sigillata production from Arezzo, Italy, to Condatomagus (La Graufesenque, Millau) in southern Gaul. Here pottery was produced at almost industrial scale, making it the most important pottery production site in the first century ce, exporting across the western Roman provinces as well as to the East (Schaad 2007; see Hudson, “Pottery and Foodways,” chapter 5 of this volume). The potters’ graffiti provide an insight into the organization of the workshops and production techniques, as well as into the identity and literacy of the potters (Marichal 1988; Bémont 2004). We are dealing with an almost “global” world in the first to third centuries ce, eradicating the series of seemingly well-defined and controlled trade routes and exchange patterns of pre-Roman times. Increasing monetization and the prosperity of the sub-elite meant that they could also profit from a web of seemingly free exchange, finding their niche markets, and trying to redefine their lifestyles and aspirations as well as their cultural expressions. Many developments were culminating around the Augustan period, making this a major period of change, innovation and investment across Gallia Narbonensis.

Urbanism and Municipalization On first sight, Gallia Narbonensis appears to be a typical Roman province under the Principate. There is a hierarchical settlement pattern with a dense network of towns, vici, villages, hamlets, farms, villas, and mansiones. The province was divided into over twenty civitates, polis-like structures consisting of a city and its territory; some were of enormous size because they were based on the presumed “tribal” territories of the Volcae, Vocontii, and Allobroges (but not Salluvii). Overall we are dealing with hundreds of settlements of urban character: apart from the civitas capitals, there are small towns of varying size and diverse character, status, and appearance, which in Roman terminology were called vici, castella, conciliabula, and fora (see Fiches 2002 for Languedoc). Urbanism was, of course, not a Roman innovation in southern Gaul. From ca. 600 bce, there were Greek cities like Marseille, Agde, and Olbia, as well as Lattes (likely an Etruscan emporium); excavations have revealed a town at Arles from 530 bce, with at least some Greek presence, though not necessarily a Greek foundation. Many “native” Iron Age settlements show (proto-) urban characteristics. Already the earliest “Gallic” sites on the Mediterranean coast, like Cap Tamaris (ca. 600–550 bce), are large settlements with complex organisation and fortification (Arcelin 2004). In the late pre-Roman Iron Age, the majority of oppida were systematically planned with a regular street grid and standardized house sizes. Some have public buildings, most

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notably Glanum (Roth Congès 2010); the most common type is a hall or portico, usually with two naves, which presumably had socio-religious functions, judging from the range of sculptures often associated with them, like the accroupis, life-sized sculptures of humans sitting cross-legged and wearing torcs (see below; Arcelin, Dedet, and Schwaller 1992; Py 2011). Settlement patterns were changing rapidly in the third to first centuries bce, even before Rome’s presence. Many abandoned early Iron Age hillforts were reoccupied in the third century (Arcelin 2004). We also find more and more farm and hamlet sites in the plains and river valleys, moving closer to the Mediterranean Sea, such as the sites developing around the Étang de Thau. This eventually led to the creation of Roman-style farms and villas in the first century bce, like Loupian (Bermond and Pellecuer 1997). The late Iron Age oppida continued to develop. Nages, for instance, was a major pre-Roman town west of Nîmes (Christol and Goudineau 1987–1988), and in the first century bce, changing socioeconomics not only led to larger houses, but also a temple-like structure, a more “experimental” version of a RomanoCeltic ambulatory temple, at the heart of the oppidum (Figure 37.5; Py 1992). Meanwhile at Glanum, Roman-style houses were constructed on the site of the later forum, like the “House of Sulla” and “House of two alcoves” (ca. 100–50 bce), and the town acquired its first baths around 50 bce (Roth Congès 2010). Cities of the Roman period, including the most powerful ones like Arles, Nîmes, Orange, and Vienne, go back to pre-Roman times. In Narbonne’s case, the hilltop site Montlaurès (probably called Naro) was situated just 4 km to the north. Primarily due to their status as Roman coloniae, these cities developed differently than other pre-Roman settlements. Having become the political, social, religious, and economic centers of vast territories, they were embellished with monumental architecture, notably forum-temple complexes, while other pre-Augustan towns were downgraded to village status as they were attributed to another city’s territory. For instance, according to Pliny (Natural History 3.20), 30 oppida were attributed to Nemausus (Nîmes) when it became a Roman colonia, ending the polynucleated landscape of the late Iron Age (Favory, Ouriachi, and Nuninger 2009). In the new hierarchical structure, many hilltop sites did not survive and soon were abandoned, like Nages, while others continued on a smaller scale as vici, hamlets, or cult places. Some oppida, like Laudun and Gaujac, acquired monumental architecture, like a forum and public baths. This has caused scholarly debates about the towns’ status: does the presence of a forum mean that these former Iron Age oppida remained autonomous states or regained their autonomy (Roth Congès and Charmasson 1992)? Equally controversial is the oppidum Glanum, which acquired its first forum in the 20s bce; this may indicate that it was not attributed to the much larger Caesarian foundations of Arelate (Arles) or Avennio (Avignon) (Christol and Janon 2002; Roth Congès 2010). Compared to most civitates in Narbonensis, the size of the colonia of Vienna (modern Vienne) was extraordinary: its territory consisted of the entire territory of the Allobrogi and contained a number of large vici, such as Cularo (Grenoble), Boutae (Annecy), Augusta (Aoste), Aquae (Aix-les-Bains), and Genua (Geneva); the latter lies about 150 km east of the civitas capital Vienna. Only in the late third century ce did Grenoble and Geneva become autonomous political units. A number of cities not only acquired a new “Roman” status, but also received large detachments of veteran soldiers as the new citizens ca. 50–1 bce. These include Narbo Martius (Narbonne), Forum Iulii (Fréjus), Arelate (Arles), Baeterrae (Béziers), Arausio (Orange), and Nemausus (Nîmes) (Pliny, Natural History 3.31–36; Suetonius, Tiberius 4; Christol 2013, 83–84). Based on Pliny and epigraphic testimonies, it seems that certain legions continued to be associated with specific towns throughout the Principate, like the Sixth Legion at Arles, the Seventh at Béziers, or the Eighth at Fréjus (Christol 2013, 85–86). This does not mean that military personnel dominated these cities. They were cosmopolitan in nature, as shown by their art, religion, and epigraphy; local cultures and Celtic onomastics persisted and fused with the more “global” culture of the empire.



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Since Rome had a particular interest in the success of her veteran colonies, we see an enormous amount of investment. In the case of Nîmes, Augustus and his right hand, Marcus Agrippa, instigated the complete transformation of the Iron Age oppidum (Christol and Goudineau 1987–1988; Figure 37.2). An impressive urban center was created, surrounded by a 6 km-long city wall, enlarging the urban area from 30 hectares to more than 2 km2; the monumental four-arched “Porte d’Auguste” is still visible today (see CAG 30/1 for archaeological finds from Nîmes). At the city’s center, the Forum with its podium temple, the Maison Carrée, was dedicated to Augustus’ grandsons (CIL XII 3156  =  AE 2010, 37; the redating by Anderson 2013 is problematic and unconvincing). More importantly, we see the deliberate appropriation of Iron Age features: Nîmes’s pre-Roman sacred spring was turned into an impressively decorated sanctuary surrounded by horseshoe-shaped porticoes, a theater, and the so-called Diana temple (probably a library and/or meeting place of the local Augustales) under Augustus. For some, this sanctuary seemed to be an “Augusteum,” dedicated to the cult of the emperor (Gros 1984). A closer look at the available evidence, however, suggests that the imperial cult must have only played a minor role. Though it was a prestigious place to honor priests of the imperial cult, people’s more personal devotion seems to have lain with other deities, such as the local spring deity Nemausus, the local mother goddesses, deities with Celtic names, and even Egyptian deities (Haeussler 2011). As in the rest of the empire, it seems natural that living and deified emperors were associated with important socio-religious sites, but were hardly the sanctuary’s main objects of worship. Equally, the late Iron Age “Tour Magne,” an impressive tower of the prehistoric rampart situated not far from the spring sanctuary on Nîmes’ highest elevation, Mont Cavalier, was rebuilt even more impressively under Augustus: twice as tall as before (36 m) and still visible from afar, it embodied symbolic value, a statement of Roman power combined with pre-Roman sociocultural understandings. As in the case of Nîmes, original Iron Age settlements frequently became incorporated into the new urban topography, often as a kind of acropolis for major cities. In Arausio, the Roman veteran colony virtually encircles the oppidum on the Saint-Eutrope Hill, overlooking both forum and theater (CAG 84/3, 67–75). Similarly in Vienne, Pipet Hill with its huge Roman platform and two temples (125 by 87 m) dominates the city, overlooking the theater, odeon, and forum. This cultural appropriation in Roman times can also be seen in the choice

Figure 37.2  Plan of Nîmes with detail of Spring Sanctuary and Tour Magne. By John Wallrodt.

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of toponyms: the pre-Roman, Celto-Ligurian toponyms frequently survive, like Ambrussum, Arausio, Arelate, Avennio, Carbantorate, Glanum, Lattara, Nemausus, Vasio, and Vienna, with the occasional addition of honorary titles like Iulia and Augusta. But there are exceptions: Aquae Sextiae, Forum Domitii, and Forum Iulii are named after their Roman founders, while Valentia (valor) had a traditional Republican name.

Urban Architecture Apart from the appropriation of pre-Roman towns and acropoleis, most cities followed the general layout of a Roman provincial city: a square grid with a forum at the meeting place of decumanus and cardo maximus. But there are interesting variations in urban design, especially in the layout of fora. We find some textbook fora, consisting of a square plaza surrounded by porticoes, with a podium temple and a basilica with curia, as at Laudun and Ruscino (Gros 1990). But in the Forum at Glanum, due to lack of space, the two podium temples stand at 90o angles (Roth Congès 2010). A number of fora lack basilicas, which were not yet fashionable in Italy. At Nîmes, we see one monumental temple in one monumental plaza, similar to the Forum Augusti in Rome, while Arles’ Forum consists of several plazas (forum and so-called forum adiectum) supported by a massive two aisled cryptoporticus of 86 × 59 m (Gros 2008; CAG 13/5). At Alba Helviorum (Alba-la-Romaine), excavations have revealed a complex arrangement of adjoining porticoes and plazas, including sacred spaces and a 60 m long forum, in addition to a theater and an extra-urban imperial cult sanctuary (Fraisse, Voisin, and Dupraz 2004). A number of cities had a macellum as well as a forum; the earliest example is Glanum’s Hellenistic market (Roth Congès 2010), and there are Roman period examples at Narbonne, Monetier-Allemont, Luc-en-Diois, Beziers, Nîmes, and Geneva (Anderson 2013, 137). After the initial Roman foundation phase, the cities were further embellished with public baths, theaters, amphitheaters, and at Arles and Vienne, circuses. This process was generally completed by the end of the Flavian period (see Dugast 2003 for entertainment buildings). These monumental venues engaged the public with a range of events promoting Roman cultural values. They created a new sense of identity and belonging, both within the community and as part of a much wider empire. Sculptural and iconographic representations made the emperor, his family, and Rome’s rule present for each visitor, and we see the same programmatic use of sculpture (Apollo, Venus Genetrix, etc.) in Arles’s theater (20–10 bce) as in Rome (Carrier 2008). The buildings’ scale allowed entire local populations to assemble. Orange’s well-preserved Augustan Theater, with a front wall 103 m long and 37 m high, seated at least 9,000 people, enough for all the veterans of the Legio II. Built around 90 ce, Nîmes’ Amphitheater seated 24,000, and at 133 × 101 m was slightly larger than Arles’ and roughly twice the size of those in Fréjus, Béziers, and Narbonne. These huge, intimidating monuments demanded awe and respect. Moreover, such massive building programs strongly affected the local landscape with the opening of many stone quarries in Roman times (Bessac and Sablayrolles 2002). Baths were another aspect of Roman lifestyle. Bouet (2003) has identified more than 200 baths, both public and private, in Gallia Narbonensis. We find them in all possible sizes and formats, not just in the major cities, but across rural areas and in private houses, accompanied by elaborate wall paintings and amazing mosaics (e.g., at Nîmes, Saint-Romain-en-Gal, and Vaison-la-Romaine). Among large thermae are the “Thermes des Lutteurs” and “Palais du Miroir” at Saint-Romain-en-Gal and the “Porte d’Orée” at Fréjus (Gros 2008, 86). Baths were still constructed in late antiquity, like the so-called Baths of Constantine in Arles (CAG 13/5, no. 71*, pp. 372–380). Sometimes it is difficult to specify whether the baths were



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private or public, balneum or thermae, or even sacred. For instance, excavations at Tavel revealed a large bath building that might have been either part of a villa or a healing sanctuary, perhaps similar to those at Balaruc or Glanum: a polygonal building adjacent to Tavel’s baths could have been a shrine, and three altars, one dedicated to Apollo, were discovered on the staircase leading to an indoor well (Bouet 2003; CAG 30/3, no. 326, p. 696). Many baths remained in use up to the sixth century ce. This leads us to one of the technological emblems of the period: aqueducts. Most people got their water from wells, cisterns, and rivers, but the quantity of fresh water necessary to supply urban baths, fountains, and houses required aqueducts. Arles, Nîmes, Vienne, and Aix-en-Provence had the largest, while those at Antibes, Balaruc, Béziers, Olbia, Fréjus, Glanum, and Vaison-la-Romaine were more modest. Some cities had more than one aqueduct: there were eleven at Vienne and four at Aix-en-Provence, one of which travels through several km of tunnels between Jouques and Aix (Fabre, Fiches, and Leveau 2005, 9; Gros 2008). Nîmes’s 50 km aqueduct, whose operation is now dated from the mid-first to early-sixth century ce, is the best studied for its amazing architectural and technological features, its astonishing Pont-du-Gard over the Gardon, its countless bridges and tunnels, and its hydrogeological and geological impact on the landscape (Fabre, Fiches, and Paillet 2000). The dry Mediterranean climate necessitated large quantities of water for humans, animals, and agriculture, so aqueducts of varying sizes were also built in rural areas. Some supported elite villa life, but also agricultural and artisanal uses, including driving water mills like that at Barbegal (below). The aqueduct of Richeaume below the villa of Puyloubier, for example, supplied basins, probably for agricultural use, and then possibly went to irrigation (Fabre, Fiches, and Leveau 2005, 8).

Infrastructure: Landscapes of Power As in all the other Roman provinces, improvements to the infrastructure transformed Gallia Narbonensis. Apart from facilitating the movement of goods, people, and animals, it also catalyzed the spread of ideas, realigned people’s sense of belonging, affected settlement structures, and created a physical presence for the Roman state. First, major roads were (re)constructed, generally named after the consul in charge, such as the Via Domitia (the traditional “Heraklean Way”), Via Aurelia, and Via Agrippa. Land redistribution and the construction of mansiones and market towns, like Forum Iulii and Forum Domitii, accompanied road building. In addition, shipping improved: as early as 104 bce, Marius built the Fossae Marianae, a 20-km-long canal that connected Arles to the Mediterranean at Fos-sur-Mer, which became like Ostia or Portus in Italy (Pliny, Natural History 3.34; CAG 13/5, no. 390*, pp. 716–718; Fontaine et al. 2019). A large number of ports and harbors can be identified not just on the coast but also along the rivers. There were large warehouses on the Rhône, for example, at Arles (Trinquetaille) and Vienne (Saint-Romain-en-Gal), and an underground horreum (warehouse) in Narbonne (Gros 2008). Shipwrecks from the Rhône, notably at Arles, show the size of some of the barges (Arles 3 is 30 m long) as well as the types of exported and imported goods. Infrastructure also served as an impressive statement of the power of the Roman state. A large number of important ideological monuments were built along the roads, notably “triumphal” arches. More than a dozen are known in Gallia Narbonensis, such as the arches of Carpentras and Glanum from the early first century ce, the Augustan arches of Saint-Chamas (below), and Arles’s “Arc du Rhône” (Küpper-Böhm 1996); fragments and inscriptions indicate many more. One of the most famous arches is that of Orange, just north of the city on the Via Agrippa. Its

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first phase perhaps commemorated Germanicus’ death in 19 ce (Gros 1979, 2008). It has three arches, like the late antique Arch of Constantine in Rome, and is richly decorated with reliefs of battle scenes and tropaia (Celtic armor, carnyx, and shields); a naval battle scene may allude to Actium. By contrast, second century ce arches are less militaristic; they mark the entrances of baths (e.g., Aix-les-Bains) or reflect the dedicant’s self-display (Küpper-Böhm 1996). Bridges could also display power. Still in use until the twentieth century, the Flavian Bridge (“Pont-Flavien”) at Saint-Chamas, on the Via Augusta between Marseille and Arles, has two monumental arches on either side, with Corinthian pilasters, carved eagles, and stone lions on top (Figure 37.3). The building dedication on each arch records that Lucius Donnius Flavos, flamen of Rome and Augustus (judging from his name, probably a local dignitary) donated this bridge in his will (Roth Congès 1982; CIL XII 647). Presumed to have been built between 20 and 10 bce, this bridge represents the self-display of one of the local elite, making use of Roman-style architecture to display his status and that of his family. Other preserved bridges are found at Ambrussum, Bonnieux, and Sommières, while others have been identified in the archaeological record, like Arles’ pontoon bridge over the Rhône (Gros 2008; Barruol, Garmy, and Fiches 2011). Overall, the roads, arches, milestones, mansiones, and well-embellished cities (as well as the Tropaeum Augusti in the neighboring Alpes Cottiae) created a landscape of power that conveyed Roman values and ideologies like victory, supremacy, prosperity, even superiority (at least in a technical sense), and promoted a sense of belonging to the empire. But this does not mean that a person traveling through Roman Narbonensis only experienced Romanitas. There are lots of unusual features even along the main roads: for example, apart from a preserved Roman bridge and Roman-style mansio at Ambrussum, there is a sacred site that does not resemble any Roman structure (see Figure 37.5). Overall, Roman-style infrastructure seems to have accelerated the demographic and economic move toward urban centers, plains, near coasts, main rivers, and public roads. Other areas became marginalized and showed economic and demographic stagnation, decline, and abandonment.

Figure 37.3  The Roman bridge at Saint-Chamas. Photo courtesy of Barry Burnham.



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Economy and the Rural Landscape Along with rising urbanism in Narbonensis, rural areas also saw an unprecedented increase in both agricultural and industrial investment and exploitation. The large number of cities and small towns, with steady population growth from the first to early third centuries ce, required huge quantities of resources, notably food. Grain production had already increased considerably in the Iron Age (Garcia 1987; Py 1993, 220–221), and in Roman times, surplus production became vital for survival in a more competitive environment. A more monetized economy as well as spatial and social mobility across the province allowed people of sub-elite status to accumulate more wealth, rise in social status, and emulate aspects of elite display and conspicuous consumption. Many individuals may have searched out profitable niche markets, specializing in certain products. The increasing demand from across the province (and beyond) meant that business must have been quite profitable during the Principate. For ­instance, salt was already exploited in pre-Roman times along the coast, but this intensified, as salt was essential for preserving meat and fish in larger quantities. Salting basins were found, for example, around the Étang de Vaccarès in the Camargue (CAG 13/5, p. 802, 808). Agricultural exploitation intensified, using more land than ever before. The centuriation of large parts of Gallia Narbonensis aided agricultural production by making land available through drainage or irrigation (see below). Even parts of the marshy Rhône valley, notably its delta between Arles and Étang de Vaccarès, were centuriated and farmed once drainage canals had been dug around many farms and villas (Leveau 2004; CAG 13/5, 233-240; Pliny, Natural History 3.33: fertillissimus Rhodanus amnis). The famous inscription of [—An]nius Camars, a wealthy senator in Arles, documents his legacy toward annual athletic and circus games (CIL XII 670, ILN 103; CAG 13/5, 390); we can only speculate whether he made his fortune with grain, horses, salt, or a combination of them (Martin 2001). Animal husbandry was also organized at a much larger scale in Roman times. Sheep, cattle, and horses were bred in the Camargue. In the Crau – Strabo’s “stone desert” (Geography 4.1.7) – systematic large-scale sheep breeding is shown by numerous sheepfolds of large size (some more than 50 m long) and local design (with pointed north end to shield from the Mistral); the system lasted from Arles’ Caesarian foundation until ca. 400 ce (Badan, Brun, and Congés 1995; CAG 13/5, 227–232, 728–733, 833–840). This Roman period infrastructure dealt with the Crau’s inhospitable climate and benefited from open frontiers that made large-scale transhumance across different communities and civitates feasible. Throughout rural areas, we see not only farms and luxurious elite residences (villas) but also other agricultural buildings, like barns and olive oil and wine presses. At Barbegal, on the south slope of the Alpilles, stood the largest known watermill in the Roman world, with 16 overshot wheels supplied by an aqueduct producing an estimated 4.5 tons of flour per day between 100 and 250 ce (Leveau 1996, 2007; see Lancaster, “Technology,” chapter 7 of this volume). Of course, there were diverse climatic and geographical conditions across the province, with varied resources and access to infrastructure: coastal areas, salty marshes and lakes, mountainous regions, and fertile river plains. So people produced different crops and products in different parts of Narbonensis. Judging from finds of presses and workshops for amphorae, olive oil was the major product along the coastal stretch between Fréjus and Marseille, and to a lesser extent in the surrounding areas as far west as Nîmes (Leveau 1997, 331). Another important type of specialty produce was wine. Marseille mainly produced wine for trade, but archaeobotanical studies have shown that wine was increasingly produced by the local population in southern Gaul, notably at Lattes as early as ca. 300 bce, resulting in a decline of Massalian wine exports between 250 and 200 bce (Py and Buxó i Capdevila 2001, 41, who also discuss literary sources). The Roman Senate unsuccessfully tried to forbid vine

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and olive plantations in Gaul at the end of the second century bce (Cicero, On the Republic 2.9.16; Boissinot 2001, 63). Many products were destined for export, as demonstrated by the distribution pattern of south Gaulish amphorae. At least forty amphora workshops were scattered around Narbonensis. At Sallèles d’Aude, amphorae were produced in large workshops covering 2 to 2.5 ha between 25 bce and 300 ce. The amphorae were mainly for wine, but also for fish sauce (garum) (Laubenheimer 1987; cf. Djaoui 2017). Mediterranean shipwrecks give essential information on import and export. For imports, the Magradue de Giens shipwreck, 70–50 bce, contained 350–450 tons of cargo, mainly 6,000–7,000 Dressel 1B amphorae from Italy and Campanian fine wares destined for Gaul, while by the mid-first century ce, the Petit Congloué shipwreck was carrying Dressel 2–4 amphorae from Hispania Tarraconensis (Rice 2016). By contrast, shipwrecks like Macinaggio 1 from Corsica, carrying Gallic 4 amphorae, demonstrate that wine from Gallia Narbonensis was exported not just to northern Europe but via harbors in Narbonne and Arles to Ostia and Rome, especially from Flavian times on (Cibecchini 2017). More than thirty shipwrecks off the coast at Les-Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer were transporting raw materials like iron and copper ingots and stones, as well as wine, oil, and garum, along the old Saint-Ferréol branch of the Rhône (CAG 13/5, pp. 816–828). Changes to the landscapes accelerated in Roman times. Growth in population and industries required more timber both for construction and as firewood for heating, cooking, baths, pyres, and industrial uses, such as pottery kilns. This caused deforestation and pollution of air and water, while rivers and lakes were being drained or captured for the countless aqueducts in the province. Numerous quarries for stone and mines for metals were established, many producing iron. The “Domaine des Forges” (Les Martys, north of Carcassonne) began to produce iron around 60 bce at a number of dispersed sites, but from the Augustan period onward, workshops concentrated at two or three sites, suggesting a more centralized organization, probably by the state and publicani (Decombeix et al. 2000, esp. 33–34). Its iron ore slag heap of 300,000 m3 reflects iron production of significant, almost industrial, scale, estimated at 80,000 tons. But as always, we must not focus too much on Roman conquest: the copper mine at Les Barrencs (Lastours, north of Carcassonne), was commonly identified as Roman, with finds dating to ca. 150–50 bce, but radiocarbon dating has shown that the exploitation of this mine started around 400 bce (Beyrie et al. 2011: 50–53). This prompts questions about who exploited the mines after Rome’s foundation of Narbo Martius in 118 bce: was it indeed settlers from Italy, with their oil lamps and Dressel 1 amphorae (cf. Mauné 2000, 247–248)? Glass was also produced in the province as early as the pre-Roman Iron Age, for beads and bracelets and later for perfume bottles; a third century bce shipwreck with raw glass demonstrates its exchange across the Mediterranean (Feugère 1992). Southern Gaul shows, in the words of Foy (2010), a real drive in technological advancement in this period, and many workshops can be identified, like a second century bce glass workshop inside the oppidum Entremont (insula XXIX: Foy 2010, 156). An enormous concentration of early glass finds came from Nages, though virtually none from Nîmes in this period (Foy 2010, fig. 10). Throughout Roman times, glass was mainly produced in cities and small towns, but also in some rural sites. After 300 ce, the number of glass workshops increased – for example, at Arles and Marseille, at villas like Eyguières, and even religious sites like Maguelone (Foy 2008). Last but not least, we should discuss the centuriation of Gallia Narbonensis, events in which Roman agrimensores partitioned large regions into standardized rectilinear segments that largely ignored natural features like hills and rivers, as well as pre-Roman field systems and boundaries (Clavel-Lévêque 1998; Mauné 2000; Leveau 2010). Since the discovery in 1949– 1950 of the famous “cadastres d’Orange,” there has been extensive research into the province’s centuriation, resulting in countless archaeological finds and models for the various centuriations (e.g., Mauné 2003; Leveau 2010; Chouquer 2013; CAG 13/5, 126–130). The



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Orange cadasters are visual depictions of three distinct centurations, A, B, and C, in the Lower Rhône Valley. Inscribed on marble plaques for public display, they showed property ownership (whether privately owned, rented out, owned or held by the colonia Arausio) for each grid square (“century”), usually of 20 × 20 actus. The crossing of cardo maximus and decumanus maximus was at the center, and each square was identified by its coordinates: DD/SD (right or left of the decumanus) and CK/VK (citra/ultra kardinem, i.e., on this side or on the far side of the cardo). The most complete is cadaster B, produced for Vespasian’s reorganization of taxable land in 77 ce; it does not represent the situation at the time of Orange’s foundation. The B cadaster clearly includes land of the neighbouring civitates of Carpentras, the Tricastini, and parts of the Volcae, Voconces, and Saluvii, covering much of the territory between Tarascon and Montélimar (Chouquer 2013). It also shows that some of the (uncultivated?) land between Saint-Paul-Trois-Châteaux and Montélimar was returned to the Tricastini, the native inhabitants who only acquired colonial status during the Flavian reorganization of the Narbonensis (Chouquer 2013). This provides valuable information on the nature of land ownership, taxation, and the Roman concept of private property imposed on the local population. Centuriation rewrote the indigenous landscape, annihilating many sites, even sacred ones, unless they were situated in marginal, hilly locations. But we must not forget the more symbolic meaning of centuriation: with its regular grids over vast territories, it reflected a sense of order, a harnessing of nature.

Identity and Migration Migration is the norm across time and space, and it is particularly difficult to identify people’s identities in Gallia Narbonensis. Already in pre-Roman times, this area was multiethnic; we should not just focus on “Celts,” “Ligurians,” and “Greeks,” but consider the wide variety of ethnic and sociopolitical groupings. Some ethnoi are primarily attested by Greco-Roman sources and, judging from the often diverse material cultures, funerary practices, and lifestyles, we can presume that even the larger groupings (Allobrogi, Volcae Arecomici, Volcae Tectosages, Salluvii, and Voconces) were rather heterogeneous. For instance, the lifestyles of the Volcae Arecomici varied enormously between the coastal areas, the Garrigues, and the mountainous regions. We should expect identities to be rather localized, both in pre-Roman and Roman times. From earliest times, this was an area of pan-European communication along the Mediterranean coast, across the Alps and the Pyrenees, and along the Rhône toward central Gaul and the Aude toward Toulouse and Bordeaux. The Pyrenees were no boundary, and the western part of the province shares many similarities with Iberian culture: some 500 epigraphic documents in the Iberian language have been found in southern Gaul (notably the oppida Ensérune, Montlaurès, Pech Maho, and Ruscino) starting ca. 400 bce, and later as far as Lattes and Vieille-Toulouse (Panosa and Isabel 1993); some Iberian inscriptions even record Celtic personal names. Etruscan inscriptions have been found at such sites as Lattes, Marseille, Saint-Blaise, Pech Maho, and Ensérune (Mullen 2013, 26, n. 118), Punic inscriptions at Marseille and Avignon (KAI 69–70; Amadasi 1967), and of course Greek inscriptions (IGF). This epigraphic evidence surely mirrors the role of commerce and trade along the Mediterranean coast. It also shows that for many in pre-Augustan times, the choice of alphabet or language was not necessarily a question of identity or ethnicity, but a pragmatic choice. It also shows the difficulties when studying the archaeological evidence in southern Gaul: societies and economies were evolving, and individuals made personal and local decisions in their choice of artefacts, diet, dress, etc.

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After the Second Punic War, these contacts increased even further. People from Italy settled in southern Gaul, including merchants, veterans, colonists, and wealthy landowners who invested in the new land. From the late Republic, an increasing number of equestrians and senators are documented in Gallia Narbonensis, such as the Domitii, important landowners in Aquae Sextiae (Burnand 1975, 2006). On Latin inscriptions, some people specify their origin – for example Pannonian (CIL XII 3020), Greek (XII 3323), Hispanic (XII 3332), Aeduan (XII 3325), Arabian (XII 3324), from Alexandria (XII 3329), from Beirut (XII 3072), and many more. Nonetheless, we can presume that the majority of the contemporary population was of local origin, since settlement patterns and cultural expressions show a large degree of continuity; many personal names (and theonyms) continue to be of Celtic origin in the Principate, especially during the first century ce (Raybould and Sims-Williams 2007). Funerary evidence provides complementary data on identity. Interestingly, La Tène burial rituals continued in southern Gaul despite the Roman conquest. These include the traditional bent swords and the manipulation of other funerary objects, as well as token burials in which only a small proportion of the cremated remains and bones were buried – a ritual found elsewhere in the Keltiké. At Nîmes, these rituals continued without major modification from the second to the end of the first century bce (Bel et al. 2008). At Aramon (Gard), a prime location on the west bank of the Rhône between Ugernum (Beaucaire) and Avennio (Avignon), occupied between ca. 60 bce and 30 ce, pre-Roman rituals like the token burial persist up to the beginning of the first century ce (Genty et al. 1995, 191), although from 40 to 20 bce new rituals were gradually adopted. We must consider the possibility, however, that the use of traditional rituals, grave goods, or dress that had a symbolic meaning, but were already anachronistic during people’s lifetimes, represent archaizing trends. As in the case of the Iulii from Glanum, many locals had served abroad under Caesar, the triumviri, or Augustus, and returned to their homeland not only with Roman citizenship but also with experience of Greek and Roman culture in the eastern Mediterranean. Many of them must have constituted the legionary veterans that were settled in Gallia Narbonensis. During the Principate, we see the development of typical Roman cemeteries on the outskirts of towns, as well as more and more mausolea in rural areas, especially near elite residences, as in the case of Cucuron (Vaucluse).

Religions between Local and Imperial The evidence for religious activities not only provides insight into people’s changing religious views and expressions but also into their cultural understandings. Our view of a province might easily be distorted by the sheer quantity of certain types of material culture, like the omnipresent terra sigillata, and by architecture that primarily served to express elite ambitions. But when it comes to religious activities, we are dealing with all strata of society. Orthopraxy may suggest that developments tend to be more conservative, as when worshippers like farmers and villagers repeat the same planting and harvest rituals year after year. Our task is to look beyond monumental sculptures and temples and seek out sub-elite religious activities in the archaeological record, though some may not have left any traces. Narbonensis provides us with a wealth of evidence to document the long transition from the pre-Roman Iron Age to the Principate. Religion allows us to study cultural developments in more depth and bring to light complex decision-making processes among the various social and ethnic groups of the province. The “culture clash” between so many different cultural and religious understandings can be creative, leading to new religious expressions and new forms of religious communications (Haeussler 2012). But we must jettison any bipolar concept of religion, like “Roman” vs.



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“native,” or “elite” vs. “commoners.” Developments were much more complex, taking place at different levels in society and different locations, in urban centers, in vici, near villas, and in remote rural locations, with countless social agents involved in shaping the religious life of any given locality. It was not the elite imposing their politico-religious concepts, but it is a give and take, a dialogue among various elite, localized, and subelite religious understandings. In this respect, the spread of Greco-Oriental cults was not a separate process but integral to the province’s cultural developments in Roman times. Much of the evidence comes from traditional (pre-Roman) cult places, like the presence of Isis and Anubis at Nîmes’ spring sanctuary and Tour Magne, or Mithras and Mercury at Apt, or Bona Dea at Glanum. There was increasing visibility of Christians in Narbonensis from the second century onward (Pietri 1997), and Judaism was also present, as shown by a first century ce oil lamp with a sevenbranch menorah from Orgon, and by the story of Herod Archelaus, exiled to Vienne by Augustus in 6 ce (Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 17.13.2/342). On first sight, sculptural and epigraphic evidence shows the presence of apparently GrecoRoman deities, like Minerva, Juno, Jupiter, Mars, Mercury, Hercules, and so on. But this is often the result of adopting a Greco-Roman religious language. For example, many seemingly Roman deities have a Celtic epithet. The south Gaulish Mars acted as protector of the local community against calamities like drought, bad harvest, and war. In Narbonensis, he takes on a number of Celtic epithets, like Albarinus, Britovius, Bruatus, Budenicus, Carrus Cicinus, Divannus, Dinomogetimarus, Giarinus, Lacavus, Magius/Ugius, Masuciacus, Melovius, and Rudianus. Most denote his function in local mythologies: Mars Nabelcus, “Wounder of Heaven”; Mars Albiorix as “King of the World”; or Mars Buxenus, “of the boxwood” (Jufer and Luginbühl 2001; De Bernard Stempel 2007; Haeussler 2011). In Nîmes, Mars Melovius can be translated as “Mars on the Hill,” presumably describing the shrine’s location at the rural chapel Saint-Baudile (De Bernardo Stempel 2007, 75, n. 127). Of course, a Celtic theonym or epithet does not mean a Celtic god, as many names might be new creations in southern Gaul’s multiethnic, multilingual environment. We must not put too much emphasis on the Roman conquest, as many developments were already taking place in the province: deities were already represented anthropomorphically, such as the accroupis and the second century bce capitals of Glanum’s trapezoidal building (Roth Congès 1997, 2010). New media were employed to honor the gods, like the GalloGreek votive inscriptions from ca. 100 bce on, providing the first attestations of deities with Celtic names, notably Belenos (RIG G-28, G-63; CAG 13/1, 55; CIL XII 5693, 1.12), Belisama (RIG G-153), the mother goddesses (matrebo) (RIG G-64, G-203), Taranoou (Taranis? RIG G-27), Roklosiai (RIG G-65), and Camoulas (RIG G-67), comparable to Mars Camulus in northern Gaul. Simply naming individual deities seems to be a new practice, raising questions about whether gods with these names had existed previously. These dedications may already reflect increasing Italo-Gaulish interactions, catalyzing changes in the late Iron Age. As we see again and again, the transition from the Iron Age to the Roman period is fluid. In the lower Rhône valley, where Gallo-Greek inscriptions had become rather widespread in the late Iron Age, the sacred landscapes in Roman times consisted of a dense web of places of worship across rural areas, often at short distances from each other. Some of these cult places may have been organized by the local community or civitas; others were yet more local, perhaps sponsored by local villagers and farmers. Above all, we see an enormous variety of religious expressions, and with more than a hundred Celtic language theonyms and epithets on Latin inscriptions (Jufer and Luginbühl 2001; Haeussler 2011), Gallia Narbonensis may appear more “Celtic” than even Britain. This leads us to the question of identifying deities in Gallia Narbonensis. Several representations show clear Greco-Roman iconography, especially for the cult of the emperor and

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some other deities, not only in cities, but in villa and private contexts where sculptures, figurines, and mosaics often depict Greco-Roman myths. Mosaics have been found across the province, with some rather exceptional ones in Arles, Vaison, Vienne, and Saint-Romain-enGal (Lancha 1981; Lavagne 2000); one exceptional example was found in 2007 in a domus in Nîmes’ Boulevard Jean-Jaurès, showing a rare depiction of Pentheus being killed by his mother (Darmon 2008). Many representations, however, do not quite fit the standard Roman repertoire. Perfectly “Greco-Roman” statues and inscriptions appear side-by-side with rather non-Roman ones, reflecting different but contemporary forms of religious understandings. For example, a high-quality over-life-sized (2.06 m) sculpture, apparently of Jupiter, was discovered in a field near Séguret not far from Vasio (Vaison-la-Romaine (Figure 37.4; Esp. I 303; CAG 84/1, p. 474, fig. 783 – also NEsp. Vienne 52, pl. 51). But this was no Greco-Roman import, but an original product of southern Gaul, made of local stone. The god wears a tunic, body armor, and a cloak fixed by a brooch on his right shoulder, like a Roman imperator in military dress (Carré 1978, 126); Jupiter’s attribute, the eagle, is standing on his left, but a serpent emerges from the trunk of an oak tree behind the eagle. It is comparable to representations of Mars Ultor, but the latter is rarely attested in Narbonensis; the Roman Jupiter rarely has military attributes (but see Jupiter Stator and Victor: Beard, North, and Price 1998, 90, 138–139). The Séguret sculpture also has noticeable “indigenous” symbols, above all the ten-spoked wheel that the god holds in his right hand. The wheel is a common symbol in southern Gaul and seems to reflect indigenous understandings of a

Figure 37.4  Deities and dedications. Top left: Jupiter with wheel from Séguret, in Musée Calvet, Avignon. Top right: Silvanus/Sucellos, the mallet god, in Musée de la Romanité, Nîmes. Bottom: Sculpture of three mother goddesses sitting on chairs on a podium within a temple-like structure (left), backed with foliage (right), in Musée, Vaison-la-Romaine. Photos by Ralph Haeussler.



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weather or thunder god, often identified as Jupiter on Latin inscriptions. In the territory of Nîmes, for example, the wheel god appeared with Terra Mater, a combination of celestial and chthonic forces meant to promote fertility (Haeussler 2020). Symbols like the wheel, hammer, and tree were commonly used on their own, without inscription, in this province. The god with wheel and serpent recalls late Iron Age representations, on coins, the Gundestrup cauldron, and later Jupitergigantenreiter (Haeussler 2012). Overall, the creolage of different native and Greco-Roman features created a new representation of a local god, whose military dress may have meant to represent him protecting the local community from calamity (Haeussler and Webster 2020). The popular anthropomorphic form of the mallet god, also represented on many altars by just a hammer, was a man holding a large mallet in his left hand and an olla in his right, usually with a seated dog looking up at him (Figure 37.4). Though the iconography seems to have been borrowed from the Roman Silvanus, the mallet god is always dressed: sometimes with Gallic tunic, caracalla, and sagum, sometimes more like the Roman Dis Pater, and occasionally wearing a wolf-skin over his head and neck (Green 1992, 78-83). He is frequently found between Nîmes and Vaison-la-Romaine, but examples appear in Vienne and even at the province’s northeastern corner in Geneva (Maier 1983, nos. 20, 1942, 96, fig. 69, fig. 148). Inscriptions give the Celtic name Sucellos, “the Good Striker” (CAG-84/3, p 286; Jufer and Luginbühl 2001; Delamarre 2003). It is difficult to tell whether this was the god’s name or merely an epithet that described one of his functions or characteristics. In Glanum, the mallet god appears with anatomic representations, suggesting his role as healing deity (Roth Congès 1997, 2010). Altogether Sucellos was a powerful chthonic god, responsible for death and rebirth, presumably he whom Caesar (Civil War. 6.18) interpreted as “Dis Pater,” the god from whom all the Gauls descend. Some divine concepts are typical across Rome’s western provinces, such as mother goddesses. In southern Gaul, they are first attested on Gallo-Greek inscriptions. The Latin for them is very similar to Celtic: mater/matír or in dative matribus/matrebo, and they can take a large variety of mainly Celtic epithets. There are three variations: the Suleviae (Celtic for “the well-leading [goddesses/mothers]”), the Iunones (a plural version of Juno), and the Proxumes, deities of “proximity” typical for Nîmes and Vaison-la-Romaine. (Interestingly, Epona, so common in the Tres Galliae and beyond, is largely missing from Narbonensis, apart from two problematic inscriptions from Glanum.) The mothers are generally depicted as three goddesses sitting on chairs or thrones. Their main attribute seems to be the patera, often containing fruits, or sometimes jars for libations or horns of plenty. A particular cluster of them appears on both sides of the Rhône valley; Allan (Drôme), with a dozen fragmentary dedications plus some impressive sculptures, seems to have been a sanctuary for the “victorious mother goddesses” (Esp. I 327; CAG 26, pp. 151–152; ILS 9334a–e). An interesting altar from Vaison-la-Romaine depicts the mother goddesses holding patera and cornucopia in a temple with a triangular pediment; the back shows foliage and fruits, probably emphasizing the goddesses’ role in encouraging fertility (Figure 37. 4; Esp. X 7455; CAG 84/1, 112– 113, fig. 68a–b). As for temples and sanctuaries, there was enormous diversity in architecture, layout, and size (Figure 37.5). We have already mentioned several Roman-style podium temples, mainly in cities, like Arles, Glanum, Nîmes, Orange, Vienne, etc., and also smaller settlements, like Vernègues and Aix-les-Bains, or the little podium temple in Gaujac dating to ca. 40–20 bce. Though the so-called Romano-Celtic temple with ambulatory, often surrounded by a precinct and/or porticos, is extremely common in Gaul (Fauduet 2010), this type is rare in Narbonensis, apart from the territory of the Allobrogi. One such monumental structure was found at Saint-Désirat (Ardèche; Figure 37.5). At Châteauneuf-les-Boissons, the sacred complex, dated from ca. first century bce to fourth century ce, had a theater (diameter 54  m) and baths (CAG 73, 143) as well as a

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Figure 37.5  Temple and precinct plans. Top, left to right: Nages; Saint-Désirat; Châteauneuf-­lesBoissons; Lioux. Bottom, left to right: Viuz-Faverges; Ambrussum. By John Wallrodt.

Romano-Celtic ambulatory temple with two rectangular cellae, a type more common in the Tres Galliae (Figure 37.5; Fauduet 2010, 107). A foundation deposit containing a miniature iron axe and a brand new Roman as from Nîmes (10-14 ce) suggests a (re) construction date in the early first century ce. Instead of formal inscriptions, seventyseven graffiti were discovered inside the temple, fifty-five of them on the temple walls, mainly commemorating offerings, like “twelve asses to the god Limetus” (ILN-5, 465). This otherwise unknown god was also the object of what may have been a foundation dedication on a square plaque of schist fixed to the temple’s floor, as well as a dedication to Nero Limetus (CAG 73, p. 144; ILN-5, 462–464). There were other dedications to Rome and the emperor, probably the result of donations during imperial festivals, but otherwise, Mercury and Maia seem to have been most popular at Châteauneuf, as elsewhere in Vienne’s territory. Another monumental sanctuary stood not far from Châteauneuf, near the provincial border with the Alpes Graiae, at Gilly-sur-Isère (Savoie), a ca. 2 km2 settlement of the first to third centuries ce. Its sacred area, predominantly dedicated to Mercury, is so large as to suggest investments beyond the means of a vicus: it contained several shrines, a 51  m long semicircular construction, and a forum-like square structure of 70 × 65 m (CAG 73, no 124, pp. 161–169; ILN-5.2, 532–535). Similarly, a complex sanctuary at the vicus Casuaria (Viuz-Faverges) contained numerous shrines and temples within its sacred areas––some very simple, others with small pronaos – as well as a 70 m long portico and a large basilica or hall of 32.4 × 9.75  m, with three niches (Figure 37.5; Piccamiglio and Segard 2005–2006). Though in use from the first to the fifth century ce, judging from numismatic evidence, no inscriptions were found in this large precinct.



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In contrast, many cult places seem to consist of more rudimentary architectural forms, just small, more or less square, cellae or aediculae, often not more than four meters wide, reflecting a smaller financial investment. In Lioux (Vaucluse), a wall surrounded four such shrines, and sacrifices and offerings took place inside them, as shown by deposits that included miniature vases and some horse and human bones, though the latter could also have been a disturbed burial (Figure 37.5; Borgard 1994). As in other parts of southern Gaul, inscriptions were extremely rudimentary, merely abbreviating the deity’s name as M, but one high-quality inscription was dedicated to [-]Ronea by a provincial with a Celtic name (ILN-4, 136; CAG 84/2, no 066, 7*, pp. 263–265). This theonym is ­problematic in Celtic, and might refer to the Sabine/Etruscan goddess, [Fe]ron  a; but it may have simply been the dedicant’s personal interpretation of the local deity (Haeussler 2011). In the fourth century, a new shrine was built outside the wall and continued in use down to the fifth century ce, even after Christianity had become the state religion. Some unusual cult places were also found along the Via Domitia, such as at the Iron Age oppidum Ambrussum, which developed into an important road station (Figure 37.5; Fiches and Mathieu 2002; Fiches 2007; Fiches, Gardeisen, and Gazenbeek 2007). Despite the presumable flow of traffic from across the empire, Ambrussum held a cult place that would have hardly conformed to travelers’ expectations: an irregularly shaped unroofed area with a rough altar of limestone blocks, 1.25 × 1.6 m, surrounded by votive offerings. These must have remained visible throughout the sanctuary’s existence, starting in the mid-first century bce, enlarged to 100 m2 around 25 ce, and still extant to the mid-third century ce. A similar complex was at Balaruc, a small town south of the Via Domitia that had a rather “Roman” bath complex, a spring, and a Neptune sanctuary (CAG 34/2, pp. 189–190, fig. 143–144). There too was a large ritual enclosure, the so-called Mars sanctuary, containing about a dozen stone altars (only one inscribed “Mars”), as well as votive deposits between the altars (CAG 34/2, pp. 191–195). The rarity of inscriptions at these ritual sites along one of the empire’s main roads is noteworthy. A comparable structure stood at Geneva’s church of Saint-Gervais, at the opposite end of the province: a rather basic and probably unroofed Iron Age cult enclosure that contained ritual pits; an early first century ce stone structure, 18 × 15 m, surrounded the central ritual pit: the Iron Age equivalent to an altar. But around 50–100 ce, the enclosure was enlarged and the ritual pit went out of use (Bonnet and Privati 1990, 750). These examples of rough enclosures may suggest persistence of pre-Roman religious practices, but these types of cult places are not attested in pre-Roman times: apart from ditches, pits, and structured depositions in general, the most visible sacred architecture from the Iron Age was the above-mentioned porticos. The creation of specific temples, as at Glanum or Nages, seems to have been a rather late development in the late Iron Age. It also seems that the Roman period was not all about the imperial cult, but allowed for much more individual religious practices. These resulted in the enormous diversity of religious understandings that we can recognize in Gallia Narbonensis.

Late Antiquity and the Rise of Christianity The late Roman period was not a decline for Gallia Narbonensis. After Diocletian’s reorganization of the empire, it became three provinces: Narbonensis Prima, Narbonensis Secunda, and Viennensis. Unlike some other provinces, the economy continued to flourish in cities and rural areas up to 600 ce; even village markets imported products from across the Mediterranean,

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especially amphorae and fine tableware (Heath 2004). In part, this was due to Narbonensis’ strategic position, but also new developments: Arles became a capital city under the emperor Constantine and more big projects were built, like the impressive “Baths of Constantine.” Arles became the “Gaulish Rome” as Ausonius called it in his Ordo Urbium Nobilium (Order of Notable Cities 10; Loseby 1996), and urban development transformed many other cities in Narbonensis. In 313 ce, Constantine installed a mint at Arles that functioned to the end of the Western Roman Empire (476 ce) and beyond. Arles was also a key site for the emergence of Christian community and topography (Klingshirn 1994; Pietry 1997; Heijmans 2014). Its first known bishops were Trophimus (ca. 250 ce) and Marcianus (253 ce), followed by St. Genesius, martyred under Maximianus in Arles. Starting in 314 ce and through the fourth century, numerous church councils were held in Arles, but it was St. Caesarius, bishop of Arles from 502 to 542 ce, who was key to the spread of Christianity across Gaul. He presided over numerous church councils (Arles 524, Carpentras 527, Vaison 529, etc.), and also created the first monastery for women at Arles’s Les Alyscamps in 513, which moved inside the city walls in 524 (Klingshirn 1994). Les Alyscamps is best known for its array of late Roman sarcophagi with stunning nonChristian and Christian imagery, using the new visual language developed after Constantine’s edict to depict scenes from the Old and New Testaments. Our knowledge of early churches has also increased significantly in recent years: a large mosaic-paved fourth century church, some 40 m wide with an apse 20 m across, comparable to the imperial churches of Milan and Rome, was found under the Convent Saint-Césaire in Arles. Late antique churches elsewhere in the province are usually smaller, like the Saint-Félix church in Narbonne, constructed in 456 ce on a previously urban site: it was only 22 m long and incorporated some sculptured marble spolia from the “Capitoline” temple (Ginouvez 1999). The repercussions of Christianity also appeared in rural areas, in small towns (e.g., at mutatio Bucconis, near Toulouse) and in villas, dominated by local landowners (e.g., Loupian, Saint Cécile). An exceptional discovery at Roujan (Hérault), at the northern limits of Béziers’ territory, is a vicus that started out with a “forum” and three temples; during the fifth to seventh centuries, one temple became a mausoleum and a baptistery and two churches were built on the site (Schneider 2010).

Conclusions People’s lives across southern Gaul were already changing in the Iron Age, but the Roman conquest acted as a catalyst that affected all strata of society. We can see this in many aspects, especially in the scale of production: millers and potters worked at quasi-industrial sites like Barbegal or La Graufesenque, sheep farmers in the Crau profited from open frontiers, merchants exported and imported products across the Mediterranean, farmers and stock breeders sold products around the province and beyond, and transporters carried goods by road, on rivers, and across the sea. There were also engineers, architects, and builders who constructed all these aqueducts, baths, bridges, houses, and villas, participating in a technical “revolution,” not to mention the thousands of men working in the province’s quarries and mines. It seems that every available resource in Gallia Narbonensis was exploited, including animals and humans – male and female, free, freed, and unfree. This provided financial opportunities for the many, resulting in individuals acquiring wealth, climbing in social status, and displaying their newly acquired rank.



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To return to our initial question about that 95% of the population: local elites may have been responsible for such things as embellishing cities and organizing festivals aimed at consolidating their power. But was everybody in Narbonensis drawn into the same cultural experience? Apparently not. Even the great entertainment venues did not manage to create a homogeneous provincial culture. Instead, they enlarged people’s cultural repertories, providing them with more resources to develop local identities and cultural expressions. While mosaics, wall paintings, and sculptures show the elite’s taste for Roman art and mythology, stimulated by inter-elite competition, they had little effect on the general population. Instead we can identify more popular forms of culture, religion, and art. During the first to third centuries ce, many sub-elite people in Narbonensis had money to spend to express themselves by setting up altars, organizing village shrines, dedicating funerary inscriptions of diverse shapes and forms with non-Roman onomastics, and generally developing their own forms of art and iconography. Individuals across this diverse province were adapting to constantly changing societal, economic, and cultural paradigms, which explains the enormous diversities across the province: each site, even the main cities like Nîmes or Vienne, became a unique creation of the public and subaltern classes acting side by side.

Biographical Note Dr. Ralph Häussler specializes in the archaeology of the Roman provinces, notably sociocultural changes, ancient religions and sacred landscapes between the Iron Age and the fourth century ce. He studied at Frankfurt University and at the Institute of Archaeology of University College London, where he was awarded the PhD in 1997. He has taught at the Universities of Aberystwyth, Lampeter, London, Oxford, and Osnabrück, and is currently a research fellow at Winchester University.

Abbreviations AE = L’Année Épigraphique. 1888–. Edited by René Cagnat et al. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. CAG = Carte archéologique de la Gaule. 1988–2022. Paris: Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres. CIL = Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum. 1823–. Edited by Deutsche Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin. Paris: A. Franck. Esp. = Recueil général des bas-reliefs, statues et bustes de la Gaule romaine. 1907–1966. By Émile Espérandieu (vols. I–X, 1907–1938) and Raymond Lantier (vols. XI–XV, 1938– 1966). Paris: Imprimerie nationale. IGF =  Inscriptions grecques de la France. 2004. By J.-C. Decourt. Lyon: Maison de l’Orient et de la Méditerranée-Jean Pouilloux. ILN = Inscriptions latines de Narbonnaise. 1985-. Edited by Jacques Gascou, Michel Janon, André Chastagnol, Bernard Rémy, Henri Desaye, Patrice Faure, Nicolas Tran, Sandrine Agusta-Boularot, and Cyril Courrier. Gallia Supplement 44. Paris, Éditions du Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique. ILS = Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae. 1954-1955. Edited by Hermann Dessau. Berlin: Weidmann.

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KAI = Kanaanäische und aramäische Inschriften, 5th ed., vol. 1 Texte. 2002. By Herbert Donner and Wolfgang Röllig. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. NEsp. Vienne = Recueil général des sculptures sur pierre de la Gaule. Nouvel Espérandieu, vol. I. Vienne (Isère). 2003. Edited by Robert Renaud, Danièle Terrer, Roger Lauxerois, Vassiliki Gaggadis-Robin, Philippe Jockey, Antoine Hermary, and Henri Lavagne. Paris: Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres. RIC = The Roman Imperial Coinage. 1923– . Edited by Harold Mattingly, E. A. Sydenham, et al., with revised editions. London: Spink. RIG = Textes gallo-grecs. Recueil des inscriptions gauloises, vol. 1. 1985. By Michel Lejeune. Paris: Éditions du Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique. RPC = Roman Provincial Coinage. 1992–. Edited by Andrew M. Burnett, Michel Amandry, and Pere Pau Ripollès. London and Paris: British Museum Press, Bibliothèque Nationale de France.

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Schaad, Daniel, ed. 2007. Condatomagos: une agglomération de confluent en territoire rutène IIe s. a. C. - IIIe s. p. C., vol. 1. La Graufesenque (Millau, Aveyron). Pessac: Éditions de la Fédération Aquitania. Schneider, Laurent. 2010. “Les églises rurales de la Gaule (Ve-VIIIe s.). Les monuments, le lieu et l’habitat: des questions de topographie et d’espace.” In L’empreinte chrétienne en Gaule du IVe au IXe siècle, edited by Michel Gaillard, 419–468. Turnhout: Brepols. DOI:halshs-01097746. Accessed February 9 2022. Verdin, Florence. 1998. “Les Salyens: faciès culturels et populations.” In Entremont et les Salyens. Actes du colloque d’Aix-en-Provence 5–6 avril 1996, edited by Fernand Benoît, Documents d’Archéologie Méridionale 21, 27–36. DOI:10.3406/dam.1998.1178. Accessed February 9 2022.

CHAPTER 38

Germania David Wigg-Wolf

Introduction The archaeology of Roman Germany – understood here as the two provinces, Germania Superior and Germania Inferior – is defined by the diverse topography of the region, as well as by its changing history as a frontier zone that saw several discrete phases of expansion, consolidation and withdrawal. Given such complexity, the framework of this chapter is a historical narrative necessary to understand the development of the two provinces, focusing on those aspects of the archaeology that are specific to and defined by the region.

Geography and Communications The landscape of the provinces comprised essentially the left bank of the valley of the River Rhine and two areas in the hinterland in the north and the south. For some two hundred years from the second half of the first century ce, Germania Superior also included areas on the right bank of the upper and middle Rhine (Figure 38.1). Prior to the late nineteenth century, the upper and lower Rhine meandered extensively, bordered by broad wetlands. North from Switzerland it flows through highlands in a wide valley, providing good settlement possibilities on both sides. On the right bank opposite Mainz, the Rhine-Main region opens up into a flatter landscape that includes some of the most fertile soils in Germany in the Wetterau. On the left bank, Rheinhessen comprises a landscape of gently rolling hills in the hinterland of Mainz. North of Mainz the Rhine cuts through a line of hills, the Hünsrück to the southwest, and the ridge of the Taunus mountains to the northeast. For the next 130 km, the river winds through a narrow valley, opening up only briefly around Koblenz at the confluence of Rhine and Mosel. Until the late nineteenth century, navigating these shallows and their rocky bed was dangerous; although the Romans built a road along the left bank, its serpentine nature restricted its usefulness.

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 2, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.



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Figure 38.1  Germania Superior and Inferior during the Early and High Empire. By John Wallrodt.

Thus, in ancient times the middle Rhine was not the important highway it is today, but divided the upper and lower Rhine regions, and it not surprising that when the two Germanic provinces were created at the end of the first century ce, the boundary between them ran through this highland zone. A short distance upstream of Bonn, the Rhine breaks out of its narrow corset and the landscape gradually opens up on both banks to the Kölner Bucht (Bay of Cologne). On the left bank the hinterland of Cologne and the area immediately to the north of the Eifel and Ardennes provided fertile loess soils and rich farmland, but farther north, poorer loamy and sandy soils and the wetlands of the Dutch Rhine predominate.

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Only in a few places do the main lines of communication between Germania and the provinces to the southwest break through the highlands to the west of the Rhine. In particular, the Belfort Gap runs from the Rhône and Saône rivers along the River Doubs to the Rhine near Basle. The strategic importance of the route partly explains why the Saône region was included within Germania Superior: its archaeology is better understood in the context of Gaul, to which it belongs geographically, and the area is not a major focus of this chapter. On the right bank of the Rhine, apart from the route along the North Sea coast, there are two main corridors through to the extensive plains of northern Germany. In the east, one ran north from Mainz through the highlands to the upper reaches of the Weser and the Leine rivers. From the lower Rhine, the Hellweg was an important land route, to the south of and more or less parallel to the River Lippe along the northern edge of the highlands. From the headwaters of the Lippe the route continued north across the outliers of the highlands to meet the Weser, where it breaks through the final line of hills at Porta Westfalica.

First Contacts As a frontier region that experienced several chronologically and geographically distinct phases of military activity and construction, Germany has made a major contribution to Roman military archaeology. Much pioneering work was carried out during the German Empire at the end of the nineteenth and beginning of the twentieth centuries; like Napoleon III in France, the Kaiser instrumentalized the country’s Roman heritage for ideological purposes, as with the reconstruction of the fort at the Saalburg near the Kaiser’s summer residence in Bad Homburg. The earliest evidence for Rome’s direct military presence in the area comes from Caesar’s campaigns in Gaul: they began when the Helvetii attempted to migrate from their homeland in central Switzerland west into Gaul as a reaction to pressure from the Germanic Suebi, who had established a power base in eastern Gaul. Caesar’s literary narrative of Germanic encroachment is to some extent paralleled by the archaeological record: during the first half of the first century bce, elements of the material culture of northern and central Europe appear in the archaeological record in central and south-west Germany (Meyer 2008, 256–260; Seidel 2009). The second quarter of the first century bce also saw the collapse of the La Tène oppida culture along the middle and upper Rhine and the abandonment of centers such as the Heidetränk, Donnersberg, and Fossé de Pandours. Primarily in order to exaggerate his achievements, Caesar defined the Rhine as the boundary between the Galli to the southwest and the Germani to the northeast, but the actual situation was much more complex, and there is no clear dividing line between the two spheres. For example, coins in the Iron Age Celtic tradition continued to be produced and deposited in regions on both banks of the middle and lower Rhine down to the final quarter of the first century bce (Roymans and Aarts 2009). After the Gallic War, Elbe-Germanic material culture became increasingly prominent both east and west of the Rhine (Maurer 2009; Hornung 2016, 514–517), while the written sources record several migrations – for example, that of the Batavi from Hessen to the Lower Rhine (Roymans 2004). It was thus a fluid and mobile encounter between two spheres, into which Julius Caesar imposed a Roman presence. Caesar himself twice crossed the Rhine into Germany, in 55 and 53 bce near Koblenz, and a recently discovered Roman camp east of the Rhine at Limburg (Schallmayer, Schade-Lindig, and Meyer 2013) has been connected with these events.



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The Roman Advance to the Rhine and Beyond Following the conquest of Gaul, the northern and southern parts of Germania followed very different trajectories. In the south, Roman colonies were soon founded: Colonia Iulia Equestris (Nyon) on Lake Geneva by Julius Caesar, probably in 46–44 bce, and Augusta Raurica (Augst) by Munatius Plancus in 44 bce. Some towns had their origins in existing native centers, for example Nyon and Vesontio (Besançon). Augst was on a new site, as was Aventicum (Avenches), which superceded a nearby oppidum at Mont Vully; although the earliest identified structures found so far date to 6/7 ce, finds suggest that settlement began earlier (de Pury-Gysel 2011). Augst has also produced numerous earlier finds, but its earliest securely dated structural timbers are from 6 bce, and the colony appears to have been refounded under Augustus (Berger 2012, 182). It has also been suggested that the colony was originally founded at the nearby oppidum at Basle. Along the northern upper and the middle Rhine, the situation was very different. Following the collapse of the oppida culture, there were few sizable central settlements in the region when the Roman army first arrived – on the lower Rhine there never had been – and little in the way of native political structures to form a basis for Roman administrative infrastructure. The Martberg on the Lower Mosel was one of the few exceptions, although the settlement around its central sanctuary appears to have already been in decline in the period following the Roman conquest (Nickel 2013, 354–371). Towards the end of the first century bce, Germanic groups such as the Vangiones, Nemetes, and Triboci had settled in partly depopulated areas on the left bank of the northern upper Rhine (Kortüm 2020, 53–54). There was little flow of Roman material culture into the area in the three decades following the Gallic War: Mediterranean amphoras are found earlier in the oppida, but Roman coins, for example, only arrived in any numbers with the advance of the Augustan army to the Rhine (Wigg-Wolf 2020b). Thus, Rome’s initial footprint along the Rhine was decidedly more military in the north than in the south (Schucany 2007, 34–35). The army’s deployment changed, however, when Augustus began to campaign in Germania beyond the Rhine. (For a summary of campaigns and bases, see Fischer 2009; von Schnurbein 2012; on the history, Wolters 2017; Wolters 2020.) Whereas in Gaul Roman troops were often stationed in oppida (Hornung 2016, 490–494), farther north new bases had to be built on “greenfield” sites. A fortress on the Hunerberg at Nijmegen, on the River Waal, was perhaps the first to be built, about 19–16 bce. A series of other bases were soon established at Asciburgium (modern Moers-Asberg), Vetera (Xanten), Bonna (Bonn), and Mogontiacum (Mainz). Additional preparations included the final conquest of the Alpine region by Tiberius in 15 bce (see Moosbauer, “Raetia,” chapter 12 of this volume), following which a short-lived fortress was established at Dangstetten, near the right bank of the Swiss upper Rhine. The Augustan campaigns have left an impressive archaeological heritage and a detailed picture of Roman military architecture in its developmental phases. Since many bases were short-lived and Tiberius later withdrew from beyond the Rhine, the sites were generally not built on subsequently, leaving discrete chronological horizons well preserved. The key Augustan horizons are based on archaeological finds at two sites east of the Rhine: Oberaden and Haltern. The Oberaden horizon is connected with the campaigns of Drusus as far as the Elbe, from 12 bce until his death in 9 bce. Oberaden itself was a legionary fortress of ca. 56 ha on the River Lippe, one of the two main routes into northern Germany; the river was highly important to the Augustan campaigns, which relied heavily on riverine transport and communication. Other major sites associated with this phase include the supply base at Rödgen in the Wetterau and a rather enigmatic site at Hedemünden on the River Werra (von Schnurbein 2015). The bases were generally polygonal and adapted to the topography of the sites, with earth and timber ramparts and timber internal buildings. At some of the earlier sites such as

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Oberaden, there were no barrack blocks; while the centurions enjoyed more solid quarters, the troops were housed in tents. Central buildings such as principia and praetorium could be substantial affairs with clear references to Mediterranean architecture (see Busch, “The Military,” chapter 6 of this volume). The luxurious praetorium at the Kops Plateau in Nijmegen has been interpreted as a palace for Drusus and has produced a substantial number of high-status finds (Peterse 2005). Following Drusus’ death, Rome withdrew from the right bank of the Rhine; dendrochronological evidence indicates that Oberaden was abandoned in 8/7 bce. But Rome soon began almost permanent operations beyond the Rhine, lasting twenty years or more. This archaeological horizon is named after Haltern, also on the Lippe, some 35  km west of Oberaden; the earliest of its several installations may belong to the Oberaden horizon, but its Hauptlager, a fortress of 16.7 ha, was built sometime after 8/7 bce. Anreppen, at the headwaters of the Lippe, was probably occupied for only a short period, about 4–6 ce. The fortress at Marktbreit, which seems never to have been fully occupied, is less certainly dated to 6 ce, and has been linked to Tiberius’ campaign against Marbod. Recent discoveries of new sites in northwestern Germany, the northernmost being Wilkenburg near Hanover, have provided more details of the extent of Roman operations (Haßmann, Ortisi, and Wulf 2015). While such sites inform us about Rome’s military infrastructure, a discovery of a different nature has radically changed the picture of Augustus’ activities in Germany beyond the Rhine. Initially interpreted as a military base, it is now clear that the 7.7 ha site at Waldgirmes was a civilian settlement (Becker and Rasbach 2015), the first archaeological confirmation that in the latter part of the first decade ce Rome was installing a civil infrastructure in Germania beyond the Rhine. This bears out Cassius Dio’s statement (56.18.2) that cities were being founded there, while Tacitus (Annals 1.59.6) mentioned coloniae novae. Waldgirmes’s earliest datable features are two wells, timbers for which were felled in 4/3 and 3/2 bce. Many of the structures within its fortification are clearly civilian, including houses of Italianate plan. In a later phase, perhaps 7–9 ce, a forum was constructed; though never finished, it housed a gilded equestrian statue of Augustus, of which fragments have been found (Rasbach 2018) (Figure 38.2a, b).

Figure 38.2a  An artist’s reconstruction of the Augustan foundation at Waldgirmes, with the forum visible in the background left. Courtesy Förderverein Römisches Forum Waldgirmes e.V., image: Faber/ Courtial.



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Figure 38.2b  Horse’s head from an equestrian statue of Augustus that stood in the forum of Waldgirmes. Courtesy Pavel Odvody, Landesamt für Denkmalpflege Hessen, hessenARCHÄOLOGIE.

Waldgirmes also illuminates the contemporary situation at Haltern: that fortress was extended by an annex, and a number of elaborate houses for high-ranking officers or officials were built, perhaps part of an administrative center. Taken together, evidence from Haltern and Waldgirmes confirms the written sources, attesting that Publius Quinctilius Varus, l­ egatus Augusti pro praetore in Germany from 7 ce, was incorporating the newly conquered region across the Rhine into a Roman province. Mineral resources such as lead were also being exploited in the newly occupied territory (Rothenhöfer and Bode 2015). The center for the new province was to be Cologne, the oppidum Ubiorum; though ­previously thought to have started as a legionary fortress, it is now clear that it was a civilian foundation from the outset, covering an area of about 1  km2 (Schäfer 2015). Tacitus’ ­reference (Annals 1.57.2) to an “altar of the Ubii” in 9 ce, and the inclusion of “Ara” in the title of the colony later founded there, Colonia Claudia Ara Agrippinensium, suggest that a cult center along the lines of the Altar of the Three Gauls at Lyon was installed (see Evans, “Gallia Lugdunensis,” chapter 37 of this volume). The earth-and-timber ramparts that enclosed Cologne and Waldgirmes show the army’s role in building them, while finds from both sites indicate mixed indigenous and Roman populations, as will be discussed. At Waldgirmes, the spectrum ran from high-status Roman objects, Arretine and other wares imported from northern Gaul, to native material, above all locally produced handmade wares that account for as much as half of the pottery in some contexts (Becker and Rasbach 2015, 271). An inverse mix is found on the Dutch lower Rhine, where the Batavians provided large numbers of troops for the Augustan army; though their settlements did not yet change in character, the spectrum of finds did, and included significant amounts of Roman coins and weaponry (Roymans 2004).

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Roman expansion suffered a devastating blow in 9 ce with the defeat of Varus and three legions. The debacle ultimately led to Roman withdrawal from beyond the Rhine, and as it has played an important role in the establishment and redefinition of German identity, there have been innumerable attempts to identify the location of the battlefield. Kalkriese, on the southern edge of the North German plain, was suggested by Theodore Mommsen more than a century ago, and more recent discoveries of numerous coins and fragments of military equipment led to excavations that confirmed it as a battlefield site (Moosbauer 2020, 149–165). None of the coins found were struck after 9 ce, and the latest are bronzes with Varus’s countermark. This parallels the coins at Haltern and Waldgirmes, suggesting that they were abandoned at the same time. Kalkriese, however, does not fit the ancient sources’ descriptions of where Varus met his end (Wolters 2020, 40–41), and may perhaps be related to a later event during the campaigns of Germanicus in 14–16 ce, raising the possibility that occupation on the right bank of the Rhine, including Haltern, continued beyond 9 ce (see Berke 2018; Kehne 2018; Wolters 2018). Romans were indeed present at Waldgirmes beyond 9 ce, but the town had suffered extensive destruction, and activity was mainly restricted to a small enclosure by the west gate. The equestrian statue of Augustus was destroyed, and the horse’s head (Figure 38.2b) was found at the bottom of a well, together with timber felled as late as the winter of 9/10 ce (Rasbach 2018; Becker and Rasbach 2015, 354–361). Although Tiberius and Germanicus campaigned beyond the Rhine from 11 ce, with the return of Germanicus to Rome in 16 ce, plans to conquer all Germania were finally abandoned and its division into Roman and barbarian parts became permanent.

Consolidation Now came a change from expansion to consolidation, with a more permanent military infrastructure, and a line of bases established along the entire length of the Rhine. Emphasis shifted away from the middle and lower to the upper Rhine, which was now more heavily fortified. The legionary fortress at Strasbourg was founded in the first years of the reign of Tiberius, and the fort farther south at Oedenburg has provided a dendrochronological date of 19 ce. The base at Vindonissa was expanded to accommodate a legion in the same period, and other forts along the Swiss Rhine such as Kaiseraugst soon followed (Reddé 2015, 299–311). The Rhine was not a complete boundary, however. North of the delta, Flevum (Velsen) was probably occupied until 47 ce, when Corbulo was ordered to abandon all territory beyond the Rhine (Bosman 2012). New outposts were established across the northern upper Rhine, including a short-lived fort at Trebur-Geinsheim, an important crossing on the right bank 15 km south of Mainz, founded in the early to middle reign of Tiberius, perhaps related to the settlement of Germanic groups in the area (Heising 2008a). Finds from the nearby base at Wallerstädten range from late Tiberian to early in the reign of Vespasian, and are of similar date to the first fort (“Erdlager”) at Hofheim, 25 km to the north on a rise dominating the north bank of the River Main (Maurer 2014).

Revolt and Renewal Another severe threat to Roman control came with the Batavian Revolt in 69–70 ce, when the Batavians, including auxiliary units, the Treveri, and groups from across the Rhine, took up arms during the chaos after Nero’s death. Destruction levels have been found at many



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sites; Krefeld-Gellep, the battle site described by Tacitus (Histories 4.26, 32–33, 35–36, 58), has been excavated and the battle’s course reconstructed: skeletons of over a hundred horses testify to the surprise attack of the Batavian cavalry (Reichmann 2009). With the accession of Vespasian and the defeat of the rebels in 70 ce, Roman policy in Germany once again changed. Some of the destroyed forts were rebuilt on new sites: Vetera I, whose capture and sack were described by Tacitus (Histories 4.60), was replaced by Vetera II, 1.5 km to the east (Brüggler 2018b). At Hofheim, the earth and timber fort was succeeded by a stone fort nearby; the two bases were extensively excavated in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries and formed a cornerstone for the dating of Roman material in the region. The most significant development, however, was the decision to extend Roman control beyond the middle and upper Rhine, opening up a shorter route to the Danube. By the early 80s, a series of forts were established to control the fertile landscape of the Wetterau north of Frankfurt, and the hills of the Odenwald and the Black Forest on the right bank of the upper Rhine (Kemkes 2020, 166–197). This advance brought Rome into closer contact, and soon conflict, with the Chatti, a Germanic tribe that lived north of the Wetterau, and in 83 and 85 the emperor Domitian himself came to the Rhine to oversee campaigns against them. Soon afterward, the areas of the two military commands, the Exercitus Germaniae Inferioris and the Exercitus Germaniae Superioris, were turned into provinces, with capitals at Cologne for Lower and Mainz for Upper Germany. This provided significant impetus for the development of civilian infrastructure: as will be seen, Cologne’s defenses were rebuilt in stone at this time, but records of other measures taken by Domitian may have been eradicated as a result of the condemnation of his memory after his death. In any case, Germania was no longer his focus late in his reign: troops were withdrawn from the Rhine to combat the increasing threat of the Dacians on the lower Danube.

The Construction of a Limes Trajan knew Germany well, having been governor of Germania Superior when he was adopted as successor by Nerva in 97. Still, he continued to move legions from Germany to the Danube for his Dacian Wars: in 101 the Legio XI Claudia was withdrawn from Vindonissa and the fortress abandoned (Trumm 2011), and about 103/4 the Legio X Gemina from Nijmegen, although the base was later used briefly by other units (van der Veen 2020). It was probably during Trajan’s reign that the Upper German-Raetian limes was established as a linear frontier (Kemkes 2020, 166–197). This “dry frontier” ran 550 km from Rheinbrohl on the middle Rhine in the west to Eining on the upper Danube in the east. In many places, it is still visible as a bank and ditch, while its forts and watchtowers, as well as the barrier itself, have been extensively researched since the late nineteenth century; in 2005 it was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Previously, it was thought that Domitian was responsible for its construction, as Frontinus (Strategems 1.3.30) mentioned 120 miles of limites, paths cut through the forest, as part of Domitians’s strategy against the Chatti in 83–85 (Schönberger 1985). Recent work, however, shows that the limes as a permanent continuous barrier was not only built later, but was the product of complex development. Excavation and research on the limes was carried out by the Reichs-Limeskommission from the end of the nineteenth to the beginning of the twentieth century, and published in the fifteen-volume Der obergermanisch-raetische Limes des Römerreiches (Oldenstein 1982), still an important source for Roman military archaeology. Work concentrated on the stone forts,

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timber and stone watchtowers, and the palisade, ditch, and bank. Although at some sites (e.g., the Saalburg) earlier earth and timber forts were identified beneath stone structures, a fairly standardized and simple process of development and construction of the limes was proposed: that the Upper German limes was initially a road connecting a series of watchtowers, fortlets, and forts, to which a palisade was later added, the initial timber watchtowers replaced in stone, and finally the line strengthened with a bank and ditch (Figure 38.3). Although this picture remains generally valid, recent work has revealed more complicated details. A deviation from the otherwise straight line of the limes north of the Main between Lochberg fortlet and the fort at Marköbel was explained by the discovery of two earlier fortlets at Hanau-Mittelbuchen, showing that there had been an earlier line running due south from Lochberg. A dendrochronological date of 119/120 ce from the palisade near Marköbel suggests that the line was moved forward early in Hadrian’s reign (Schallmayer 2005). It is possible that Hadrian was in fact responsible for the erection of the entire palisade, as suggested by the Historia Augusta (Hadrian 12.6). Late in the reign of Antoninus Pius, about 159, the section of the Upper German limes south of the Main that ran across the Odenwald to and along the Neckar was moved forward some 20–30 km, the final form of this frontier. The limes was by no means an impermeable barrier to defend the frontier, but enabled and controlled contact with the peoples beyond with openings to facilitate transit (Bender 2014). A number of ancient authors mentioned trade contacts: Tacitus (Germania 41) wrote of the Hemunduri even being allowed to trade in Augusta Vindelicorum (Augsburg), where fibulae were being produced specifically for export across the limes (von Carnap-Bornheim 2020,

Figure 38.3  Reconstruction of the limes palisade and the watchtower Wp 3/15 near Zugmantel Castle in the Taunus. Courtesy Oliver Abels, CC BY 2.5.



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419). The beneficiarii, military staff officers, policed such frontier traffic; several posts for them have been discovered, e.g., at Osterburken (Archäologisches Landesmuseum BadenWürttemberg 2005, 214–216) and Obernburg (Steidl 2005).

The Development of Towns The varied landscapes and histories of the two provinces of Germania affected urban development. In the south it came early, as mentioned: Avenches was already a substantial town by the first decade ce, and its original forum was replaced by a more monumental complex during the Tiberian period. Farther north urbanization started later, with the Augustan campaigns, and it was not until 50 ce that Cologne was promoted to colonial status. The distribution of towns and vici was also dictated by geography. On the left bank of the upper Rhine they were more or less restricted to the river valley, with few in the hilly hinterland, the main exceptions being Vicus Altiaienses (Alzey) and Cruciniacum (Bad Kreuznach) in the fertile rolling landscape southwest of Mainz (Haupt and Jung 2006, 45–57). Along the Middle Rhine the narrow valley offered little space, except in the area around the confluence of the Mosel and Rhine at Confluentes (Koblenz), and more isolated sites such as Bodobrica (Boppard), Antunnacum (Andernach) and Rigomagus (Remagen). Small nucleated settlements were also established along main roads in the highlands of the Pfalz, Hunsrück, and Eifel to the west of the upper and middle Rhine. On the fertile loess of the open landscape in the hinterland of Cologne (Ulbert 2013) and Tongeren, there was a denser network of vici. But farther north, on poorer soils downstream of Neuss, urban development was limited to Nijmegen on the Waal and Forum Hadriani (Voorburg), the civitas capital of the Cananefates; although it received civic rights under Hadrian, it was little more than a shadow of other administrative centers (de Bruin 2019, 123–142). Apart from Cologne, military bases formed the focus for the majority of towns along the Rhine, best illustrated by Mainz: it was the site of a legionary fortress, while the town was in effect the civilian settlement outside the base, and this dual character was to persist into late antiquity (Burger-Völlmecke 2020; Kortüm 2020, 68–70). The civilian settlements that grew up around the bases Moers-Asberg and Bonn on the lower Rhine flourished as trading centers on an important route along and across the frontier. Others continued to prosper even after the withdrawal of the military units, and towns such as Borbetomagus (Worms) and Noviomagus (Speyer) became civitas capitals. At both Nijmegen and Xanten, a second settlement was established a short distance away from the fortress and its civilian settlement (canabae legionis). About 10 bce, the Oppidum Batavorum (Nijmegen) was founded on the Valkhof near the legionary fortress on the Hunerberg. It was of a distinctly Roman nature in layout and finds, and the population probably consisted of veterans, traders, and other immigrants. After the Batavian revolt of 69–70, it was succeeded by a new foundation on lower ground about 1  km to the west, Ulpia Noviomagus Batavorum, later to become a municipium (Willems and Enckevort 2009; Enckevort and Heirbraut 2015). Similarly, Xanten was established on the Rhine some 2.5 km west of the fortress Vetera I in the late Augustan to early Tiberian period, perhaps as the capital of the civitas Cugernorum. Again, the settlement had a distinctly Roman character, with a large number of finds of militaria unrelated to the Claudian fort at its northwest corner, and under Trajan it was re-established as Colonia Ulpia Traiana. Xanten is particularly well researched, and today it is an archaeological park, with several reconstructed Roman buildings (Hanel 2020, 99–105). Both towns suggest active interest on the part of Trajan, who had been governor of Germania Superior.

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While most of the towns along the Rhine were established in connection with military bases at greenfield sites, where there was a native precursor, as for example at Alzey, it is ­generally unclear whether there was actual continuity between Iron Age and Roman activity. Away from the military zone along the Rhine, however, there is more evidence for involvement of the local population in new settlements. Aduatuca Tungrorum (Tongeren), located at a key point on the long-distance road network of the fertile loess region west of the Lower Rhine, showed traces of a military presence in the last decade bce, and its orthogonal street grid indicated Roman involvement in laying out the new town, but the inhabitants of the Augustan period lived in traditional local two-aisled byre-houses (Vanderhoeven, Vynckier, and Martens 2001, 61). Ceramic finds were also a mix of imported Mediterranean products and local imitations of Roman wares. Only in the Claudian period did Tongeren develop into a more typical civitas capital with Mediterranean-style houses and graveled streets. In the hinterland of the Rhine, many of the smaller towns and vici were not the result of official administrative measures, but originated as staging-posts along main roads, or were situated at road junctions and river crossings. Their concentration in relatively fertile agricultural regions likely reflects roles as craft, trade, and redistribution centers for local produce, or as religious centers. They generally developed later than settlements with a military origin along the river itself. The earliest traces of occupation at Tienen date to the Claudian period (Vanderhoeven, Vynckier, and Martens 2001, 73), and the vici in the hinterland of Cologne appear to have come into existence even later, from the mid-first century ce, perhaps in relation to the promotion of Cologne to a colony (Ulbert 2013). Towns such as Aquae Granni (Aachen) and Aquae Mattiacorum (Wiesbaden) grew up around thermal springs and became spas, while Eisenberg in the Pfalz was an important center for iron working. Mayen owed its prosperity to basalt quarries that produced high-quality millstones, and later a pottery industry that continued into the Middle Ages. The rather modest settlement at Rheinzabern belies its importance as a major center of production for terra sigillata (Kortüm 2020, 80–84). As for the newly occupied hinterland of the limes, whereas the names of civitates such as Ulpia Sueborum Nicrensium inform us that Germanic groups in the region were being incorporated into the empire, there is otherwise little evidence for previous substantial occupation. The Wetterau appears to have been mainly settled by new elements from the Gallic provinces (Lindenthal 2007, 45–54). Tacitus (Germania 29) wrote that the region between the Rhine and Danube, the Agri Decumates, had been occupied by settlers from Gaul, driven there by desperation. There was therefore little involvement of an existing local population in the establishment of larger settlements, which were closely related to the extensive military presence (Archäologisches Landesmuseum Baden-Württemberg 2005, 154–197). Many of the military vici around early forts in the hinterland of the limes continued to flourish after the forts themselves had been abandoned, in particular in the more favorable landscapes of the Neckar Valley and the Rhine-Main region. Larger towns such as Nida (Heddernheim), Dieburg, and Arae Flaviae (Rottweil) became administrative centers, the capitals of civitates, the latter perhaps as the territories’ main administrative center. As at Nijmegen and Xanten, the role of Trajan in the creation of civilian infrastructure is indicated by the name of the Civitas Ulpia Sueborum Nicrensium, of which Lopodunum (Ladenburg) was the capital.

Urban Features The five Roman colonies – Xanten, Cologne, Augst, Avenches, and Nyon – as well other large towns such as Besançon and Tongeren, had the infrastructure and characteristics of wealthy cities throughout the empire, such as orthogonal street grids and public monuments befitting their high status. Xanten, Augst, and Avenches are all well studied, particularly the



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latter, whose affluence is shown by an extensive temple area between its theater and amphitheater, as well as urban mansions like the palatial Derrière la Tour (Pury-Gysel 2012). At Cologne, the provincial governor’s palace (Praetorium) occupied a prominent position on the river front. Also, remains of what may be a public library have been discovered in the city’s forum (Karas, Kass, and Schmitz 2018). Cologne’s water was supplied by the longest Roman aqueduct north of the Alps, built about 90 ce and running some 95  km from Nettersheim in the Eifel (Grewe and Brinker 1986). Mainz, although a provincial capital, was of a very different character: it probably had a forum at a fork in the main streets in its center, but otherwise it had the irregular layout and development of canabae legionis, which in effect it was. Despite having one of the largest theaters north of the Alps and an aqueduct to supply its legionary fortress, it has been doubted whether Mainz even had an urban landscape (Kortüm 2020, 68–70). For many of the smaller towns, the quality of the archaeological evidence varies depending on their origins and subsequent fortunes. Towns on the left bank of the Rhine like Speyer and Worms continued to be occupied over later centuries, restricting our knowledge, while on the right bank, where urban settlement ended with the withdrawal of Roman garrisons from the mid-third century, a detailed picture of urban life in a military zone on the edge of the empire is preserved. More or less orthogonal street grids aligned on the abandoned forts can be seen at Rottweil, Ladenburg, and Heddernheim. Structures that may have been palaces for visits by the provincial governor or other high officials have been found at Heidenheim and Ladenburg. Smaller settlements, such as Walheim or Güglingen, grew irregularly around forts, but these too could have the typical infrastructure of larger Roman towns, such as a forum, macellum, and baths. The modest vicus at Riegel had a basilica complex some 70 m long. Even imperial initiative did not always lead to success, however: The ambitious (130 × 84  m) Basilica at Ladenburg as the capital of the Civitas Ulpia Sueborum Nicrensium was apparently never completed (Archäologisches Landesmuseum Baden-Württemberg 2005, 154–199).

Town Walls Colonies like Avenches and Xanten received circuits of walls along with that honor. Those at Augst and Avenches were more a demonstration of status than genuinely defensive: Avenches’s walls, probably built by the army from 72–77, enclosed 230 ha, of which only 60 ha were actually built up (de Pury-Gysel 2011, 38–40), while at Augst the circuit was never completed, only the sections to either side of the gates (Berger 2012, 55–58). Cologne had an earth and timber rampart from the start, but this was replaced by a masonry wall dated after 90/91, when timbers for its riverfront section were felled (Fischer and Trier 2014, 123). Many civitas capitals and smaller urban centers, particularly on the right bank of the Rhine, also received town walls, though their dates are often uncertain. Recent work suggests they were a reaction to the increasing threat from beyond the limes in the first half of the third century (Kortüm 2020, 66–67).

Rural Settlement The rural landscape of the Germanic provinces presents a picture much like that elsewhere in the Northwest, a network of smaller nucleated roadside settlements, villae rusticae and smaller farmsteads, single or in groups (Maurer 2020, 117–144). But the influences of geography, geology, and the dynamics of Roman occupation led to varying landscapes. Rural sites have been categorized as open or enclosed multiple-farmstead settlements, single compound farmstead settlements, large organized compound settlements, and axially

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organized complexes (Habermel 2013; Nüsslein, Bernigaud, and Reddé 2018, 146–147). The latter two categories correspond to what is generally termed a villa rustica: an (approximately) rectangular enclosure larger than 1 ha, within which a residence and work buildings stood. This plan was not a Roman innovation, for rectangular enclosed complexes had already appeared in northern Gaul prior to the conquest, but they only took their final form later, being divided into a residential pars urbana and a working pars rustica. The residential buildings of villas developed over time. The earliest were rectangular, with the long façade overlooking the complex. As early timber structures were extended or replaced in stone from the end of the first century, the hierarchical arrangement of the complex could be emphasized by the addition of a veranda or portico along the front, in more elaborate examples flanked by two projecting wings (Eckrisalitvilla). In the axial complexes, the main building generally stood at the end of one of the narrower sides of the enclosure, opposite the entrance, with subsidiary buildings arranged more or less symmetrically along both long sides. Most villas of the Germanic provinces were modest compared with more elaborate complexes in neighboring Gallia Belgica and Lugdunensis. The most imposing were mainly in fertile regions and along important communication routes – for example in the loess belt to the west of Cologne – or in areas with important non-agricultural resources, such as the basalt and tuff deposits to the north of the lower Mosel. In Alsace, on the left bank of the upper Rhine, the archaeological record is patchy. Villas have long been known in the area around the legionary fortress at Strasbourg and along the road from there west to Gaul. Recent work, however, has started to reveal a much wider range of rural complexes (Nüsslein, Bernigaud, and Reddé 2018). At Steinbourg “Altenbourg,” an indigenous enclosed settlement developed into a less formal group of farmsteads (habitat éclaté or Streuhof) in the first half of the first century ce. Several hamlets or small villages have also been found in the Strasbourg region. The houses were generally timber sill-beam structures, often in linear alignment, and could include cellars. As the villas declined in number in the early third century (relatively early compared with other areas), the hamlets increasingly flourished. The rural development in the area west of Cologne is particularly well understood, in part due to comprehensive survey and excavations of extensive areas prior to open-cast lignite mining (Brüggler et al. 2017). The landscape is divided between the rich loess running in a band from the Bay of Cologne in the east along the north flank of the highlands of the Eifel and Ardennes to the west; and the poorer, loamy, and sandy soils of the lower Rhine plain, and the coversands of the Maas-Demer-Scheldt area and the Rhine delta further north. The patterns and forms of rural settlement in these two areas were very different. In the loess zone sites outside the nucleated settlements consisted of a mixture of villae rusticae and more modest farmsteads. The former were relatively small and simple, and heated rooms and bath suites were rare. There were few elaborate axially arranged complexes: Blankenheim in the Eifel was exceptional, and Köln-Müngersdorf is an example of a type unique to the region: the laterally aligned complex, where the main residential building is situated along one of the long sides of the ensemble. Besides the villas, there was also a range of simpler, timber-built farmsteads, single or grouped. On the poorer soils to the north, villas and stone buildings are not found, with the exceptions of Hoogeloon (Roymans, Derks, and Hiddink 2015; Roymans and Derks 2017) and Plasmolen (Hazenberg and Vos 1999), nor were there large villages. Instead, there were hamlets of two to four farmsteads with timber byre-houses in the late Iron Age tradition. These settlements were seldom enclosed. The two areas also contrast in material culture, with less Roman material in the northern zone; local handmade wares persisted there alongside wheel-thrown Roman style wares well into the second and even the third century ce. The economic bases of the two areas also differed. In the loess belt settlement density was higher and the economy was geared to the surplus production of cereals alongside animal



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husbandry. In the north settlement was much thinner, and the standard form of farm, the byre-house, indicated that animal husbandry was more important. Store buildings were traditional, small post structures, and cereal production was for subsistence. The relationship between the towns on the Lower Rhine and their territories was also affected by the differences in the landscape: Cologne’s hinterland was in the loess belt, those of Xanten and Nijmegen on poorer soils to the north. Only the loess belt was capable of supplying the large urban centers on the Rhine; significantly, bronze tablets mention a decurio from Xanten whose estate was not nearby, but in the loess belt more than 100 km south (Derks 2011). Archaeobotanical remains show that similar plants (cereals, pulses, vegetables, spices and fruits, some exotic imports) were consumed at Xanten, Cologne and in Cologne’s hinterland, but in the hinterland of Xanten, consumption continued much in the Iron Age tradition. There were a number of substantial villas in the area between Mayen and Andernach to the north of the Lower Mosel, the wealth of which was partly based on the extensive deposits of tuffstone and basalt there. Many of the villas were developments of pre-Roman establishments (Giljohann, Hunold, and Wenzel 2017). Rural settlement grew continuously through the second century, and unlike other areas of Germania, the region continued to prosper until the late fourth century. On the right bank of the Rhine, a region with little indigenous population, villas were founded soon after the Roman advance across the river (Archäologisches Landesmuseum Baden-Württemberg 2005, 270–281). The network was particularly dense on the fertile soils of the Wetterau to the north of Frankfurt (Lindenthal 2007). The villa at Walldorf in the south reflects the close links between the agricultural exploitation of the region and the presence of the Roman army: it included three large granaries, and was probably under official or military control (Rupp and Birley 2012, 177–178). One remarkable site is the villa rustica at OberndorfBochingen: an outbuilding collapsed full length onto the ground, possibly in an earthquake, preserving one gable end to its full height of 12 m, including the entrance arch and two ­windows (Archäologisches Landesmuseum Baden-Württemberg 2005, 282–285). The frontier region seems also to have attracted settlers from beyond the limes, and in the northern Wetterau a number of typical Germanic sunken houses (Grubenhäuser) coexisted alongside typically Roman structures within villa compounds (Steidl 2000, 116–126; Lindenthal 2017). Although the villas in the Germanic provinces (except southwest Germania Superior) were generally relatively modest, several around Mainz presumably owed their luxurious features to their relationship with the nearby legionary fortress and provincial capital (Weckmüller and Burger 2013): the main building of the palatial villa at Bad Kreuznach, measuring some 70 × 80 m, was arranged around a large central courtyard or garden, and had particularly fine mosaics (Hornung 2011).

Crafts, Industry, and Natural Resources The Germanic provinces housed one of the most important centers of production for fine tablewares: Rheinzabern produced terra sigillata from the mid-second until the mid-fourth century, exporting as far afield as northern Britain and the Black Sea. More local wares were produced at several other centers (Lenz 2001; Höpken 2001; Hanel 2001a, 2001b): Belgische Ware, the most common fineware on the middle and lower Rhine in the first century ce, was produced at Xanten, Neuss, and Cologne from the mid-first century, while Switzerland produced Helvetian terra sigillata imitations up to the mid-second century.

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A number of sites made fine black-slipped pottery, Glanztonware. The drinking vessels were particularly popular, sometimes decorated with barbotine or coated with fine sand before firing (rough cast) to give them more grip. In the fourth century, white-painted decoration was popular, often with the text of toasts (Spruchbecher). Many places produced coarsewares; in the second century, Soller near Aachen exported mortaria widely, while Urmitz-Weissenthurm was mainly active in the second century (Friedrich 2015), and Mayen from the mid-third (Redknap 1999); the latter’s products were widely distributed, and manufacture continued into the medieval period. Mayen was also the site of basalt quarries, producing high-quality millstones distributed throughout the Northwest. The quarry at the Felsenmeer in the Oldenwald forest on the right bank of the Rhine was still in use in the first half of the fourth century, providing columns for the cathedral in Trier. Though Germania is not particularly rich in minerals, lead was mined in the Eifel and in the highlands on the opposite bank of the Middle Rhine, and zinc at Stolberg near Aachen, while there was an important iron center at Eisenberg in the Pfalz. Glass was produced at many sites, initially in urban centers, but by the fourth century there was a concentration of workshops at rural sites on the lower Rhine. It has been suggested that this resulted from the abandonment of many agricultural estates, leaving a plentiful supply of the wood needed to manufacture glass (Grünewald and Hartmann 2014; Brüggler 2021).

Religion and Funerary Practices The religious and funerary practices in Germania followed the pattern found elsewhere in the northwest provinces, a mix of local traditions and imported customs (Höpken 2020, 255– 271). Worship of the emperors and the Capitoline triad were prominent in the major cities, for example the imperial cult at the Ara Ubiorum in Cologne. The indigenous population continued to follow local deities, which could be identified with members of the Roman pantheon. Strong regional traditions, like the cult of Hercules Magusanus on the lower Rhine, persisted, while that of the Matronae, three seated mother deities known under some seventy epithets, was widespread in the hinterland of Cologne. The Roman presence also brought in oriental cults (Hensen 2005), including Mithras (Kortüm and Neth 2005) and there was a sanctuary for Isis and the Magna Mater at Mainz (Witteyer 2004). Architecture also reflected Roman and indigenous traditions (Seitz 2005). Classical podium temples are mainly found in the towns, for example the Capitol at Xanten, but at indigenous sanctuaries the Umgangstempel, a central shrine surrounded by an ambulatory, was the norm. At Avenches, the two traditions existed side by side: The Cigognier Temple was based on the Temple of Peace in Rome, while an Umgangstempel stood nearby at Derrière la Tour (de Pury-Gysel 2012, 135–136, 155–157). A large sanctuary with preRoman origins has been excavated at the Martberg: at times it housed up to five temples, and demonstrates how the shrine and ambulatory form developed from native timber predecessors. This site also produced an unusual dedication in both Greek and Latin to Lenus Mars (Nickel, Thoma, and Wigg-Wolf 2008). A particular feature of the Germanic provinces are the Jupitergigantensäulen (Jupiter columns). In their most complete form, the base was formed by a Viergötterstein (four gods stone) with depictions of Juno, Minerva, Mercury, and Hercules, surmounted by a drum with carvings of the seven days of the week. This in turn supported a column with a statue of Jupiter, usually on horseback, trampling a giant (Figure 38.4). They are mainly found near settlements or at villas rather than in sanctuaries. Burial practices also combined native and imported customs (Höpken 2020, 271–280). Continuity from the Iron Age appears in burials with extensive sets of grave goods to



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Figure 38.4  Painted copy of the Jupiter column at Schwarzenacker. Courtesy Lokilech, CC BY-SA 3.0.

accompany the deceased in the afterlife, while the Roman presence brought simpler offerings such as a coin and a lamp. Initially cremation was standard, often with a great quantity of grave goods including extensive terra sigillata services, glass vessels, and objects apparently related to the deceased’s profession (Hensen and Ludwig 2005). From the later second century, inhumation gradually took over. With the Roman presence a major change came in the placement of burials at prominent, highly visible locations: the roads leading out of towns were lined with tombs and funerary monuments (von Hesberg 2005). These included funerary altars and

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stelae, but above all tall pillar monuments with elaborate reliefs, as illustrated by two monuments at the Flur en Chaplix in Avenches (de Pury-Gysel 2012, 141–143). The cemeteries of villas were also often placed to be visible to passersby, as well as from the main house.

Crisis? What Crisis? If the second century ce brought peace and prosperity to the German provinces, shadows of future difficulties were cast under Septimius Severus’ successors. His son Caracalla conducted an expedition beyond the limes in 213 and on the right bank of the Rhine several towns built or strengthened their defenses in the first half of the third century. Further Germanic raids came in the 230s, perhaps encouraged by the withdrawal of troops by Severus Alexander for his campaign against the Persians, and in 235/236 his successor Maximinus Thrax took the field against the Germani. In 2008, it became clear just how far Roman forces penetrated into greater Germania, when metal detectorists discovered military equipment at Harzhorn near Kalefeld, on a major north–south route nearly 200  km north of the limes (Meyer 2018; Moosbauer 2020, 149–165). Scattered across a wooded hilltop ridge, nearly two thousand recognizably Roman objects were found. They included a heavy wagon, but besides 1,400 hobnails from Roman army boots, the most common finds were Roman projectiles: spear- and arrowheads and ballista bolts. Further work is revealing that hostilities extended over a wider area, and clearly they involved a heavily armed expeditionary force. The Roman finds are typical of the first half of the third century, but a closer date is provided by sixteen coins, the latest of which was struck in 225, and the battlefield was probably related to the campaign of Maximinus Thrax. Nonetheless, increasing pressure on the frontier called the emperor Gallienus to the lower Rhine in the late 250s. In 258/259 the Alamanni crossed the Alps, nearly reaching Rome, while a new force on the Lower Rhine, the Franks, even raided as far south as Tarraco in Spain. The reality of the Germanic threat is shown by the Augsburg victory altar, set up in 260 to commemorate victory over the Iuthungi and the freeing of many thousand captive “Italici” (Bakker 1993). The situation was further complicated in 260 when Postumus, a military commander on the Rhine, revolted and was proclaimed emperor by his troops, starting the secession of the “Gallic Empire” of Gaul, Germany, and Britain until 274 (Fischer 2012). The traditional narrative has seen this as a period of ever-increasing Germanic invasions, resulting in the collapse of the limes (the so-called Limesfall) about 260 and the abandonment of Roman territory in the Agri Decumates on the right bank of the Rhine (Heeren 2016). Evidence for this was seen, for example, in destruction contexts and four coin hoards ending with issues of 259 in the fort at Niederbieber. However, it is now clear that the end of the limes as a cohesive frontier system and Roman withdrawal from the right bank of the Rhine was not a sudden but a gradual affair. Garrisons were increasingly withdrawn to counter threats elsewhere in the empire, and civilian settlements declined over several decades. While some sites were apparently destroyed, others show attempts at reconstruction (Heising 2020). There are very few dendrochronological dates later than 233 (Reuter 2012, 320– 322), but this may only be due to a dearth of timber from excessive use for construction, heating, and baths. Civilian settlements across the Agri Decumates came to an end at different times and under different circumstances: some vici in the south had already declined or ended in the first half of the third century, but the final withdrawal there was perhaps well-ordered and only took place around 275 (Blöck and Zagermann 2018). At the civitas capital at Nida (Frankfurt-Heddernheim) activity continued until about 280, if on a greatly reduced scale, and nearby production of “barbarous radiates,” imitations of Roman coins of the 270s, confirms continued connection with the monetary economy west of the Rhine. Clearly part



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of the old provincial population still remained in some areas of the Agri Decumates: it is suggested that it was Germani who had settled there earlier who remained in the Wetterau (Steidl 2000, 116–126; Reuter 2020, 365–368). Events west of the Rhine are also being reinterpreted (Konrad 2020, 376–405). As well as written sources, evidence for Germanic raiding was seen in innumerable coin hoards of 260– 274, which have been used to reconstruct waves and routes of such attacks (Schulzki 2001). But coins are hoarded for other reasons than war and invasion, and hoards of 260–274 are also extremely common in Britain, where there is no such evidence for widespread destruction. Many scholars have also proposed a massive invasion in 275 since throughout the area coin series end or have a significant gap after 274. But this “great invasion” of 275 is rather the result of a misunderstanding of the numismatic evidence, for the break in the coins series is above all the result of a radical reduction in the coin supply following the collapse of the Gallic Empire (Heising 2015, 169–176; Wigg-Wolf 2020a, 219–253). But even if the crisis of the last third of the third century was not as serious as previously thought, the Germanic provinces did indeed suffer, as shown by the Augsburg victory altar and large depots of metal objects (e.g., Neupotz and Hagenbach), plunder lost in the Rhine by Germanic groups returning home. The Neupotz group appears to have included loot from temples in Aquitania, far to the southwest (Historisches Museum der Pfalz 2006). Irregular burials at a number of sites also indicate violence (Heising 2015, Liste 11): at Augst there is widespread evidence of fighting in the town, destruction, and abandonment (Schatzmann 2013). At Krefeld-Gellep some 120 persons, mainly soldiers but also women, children and elderly people, were only buried some time after they had been killed in an attack, probably about 260 (Reichmann 2011, 256). Such events, however, were not just the result of Germanic raids: a variety of internal political and social factors were also involved. The fort at Niederbieber may have been destroyed during internal hostilities following the proclamation of Postumus, and a Latin inscription recording the restoration of the baths at Krefeld-Gellep has been reconstructed as mentioning destruction by hostes publici, public enemies (Reichmann 2011, 254–256). Throughout the German provinces, as in much of northern Gaul, major towns were in decline, reduced in size or even abandoned. At Avenches habitation continued, but on a much smaller scale (de Pury-Gysel 2012, 275–277), and occupation at Augst was concentrated within a new 3.5  ha fortification on Kastelen after 275 (Schatzmann 2013). New defenses were erected around just the central nine of the forty insulae of Xanten at about the same time as the nearby fortress Vetera II was abandoned (Otten 2012). Tongeren was similarly reduced, but its defenses took no account of the town’s original structure, suggesting that it had been largely destroyed (Vanderhoeven 2012, 138). The town walls at Cologne had already been strengthened in the 250s, perhaps in connection with the presence of Gallienus (Päffgen 2012, 121); defenses built around the civilian settlement below the legionary fortress in Mainz, dendrochronologically dated to 253, include an estimated 29,000 (!) recycled stone monuments used in construction, implying social disruption as well as a radical break in the appearance of the provincial capital and its surroundings (Heising 2012a). In both towns, residential quarters were now concentrated within the walls, and suburbs abandoned. Fortifications were also built on a local or even private level: an inscription from Mittelstrimmig testifies to the construction of the “burgus” there in 270, at the initiative of a prefect and a number of apparently private individuals (Haas 2004). Rural areas throughout the provinces also suffered widespread decline. For example, half the villas and three quarters of the vici around Cologne were abandoned by the end of the third century (Päffgen 2012; Brüggler 2018a), and a similar picture is apparent in the area around Augst (Schwarz 2011, 319–321). Whether this was related to the reduction in size of towns is unclear: were agricultural settlements abandoned because reduced military garrisons and smaller towns limited the market for agricultural products? Larger landowners may also have moved out of the area in uncertain times, stripping the towns of their local elites.

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The Dutch lower Rhine and its hinterland saw a particularly dramatic reduction in Roman presence. By the last quarter of the century, the area north of the Cologne-Tongeren-Bavai road was almost completely depopulated, perhaps under a deliberate official resettlement policy, but maybe also due to deterioration in climatic conditions and soils, as well as a transgression of the North Sea (Heeren 2015). Activity at many of the forts downstream of Nijmegen was now greatly reduced, and occupation at the old municipium Ulpia Noviomagus Batavorum in Nijmegen came to an end by 300, moving to a smaller fortified area at the nearby Valkhof. The only sizable town downstream of Nijmegen, Forum Hadriani, was abandoned at about the same time (de Bruin 2019, 135), and it may be that the Dutch Rhine was no longer a frontier, but only a corridor of communication. On the other hand, some areas profited from the situation. The presence of Gallienus and his imperial court and guard in Cologne in the 250s will have provided a significant economic boost. Not only were the town walls strengthened at this time, but the governor’s Praetorium was likely extended as an imperial residence. The return of the frontier to the Rhine also presented an opportunity for towns on the left bank, which now became military garrisons. In the late third century the canabae legionis at Mainz became the capital of the civitas Mogontiacensis, while no later than Postumus, Speyer was promoted to colonial status (Witschel 2011, 55–56). These developments were not just the result of internal political struggles and Germanic raids in the third quarter of the third century. Some had deeper roots reaching back earlier. Villas in some areas of Alsace were already in decline from the late second century, and at Augst, which is particularly well studied, several buildings were abandoned in the second quarter of the third century. In the countryside environmental factors probably also played a role, with more intensive farming and deforestation leading to soil degradation and erosion. The climate was entering a cooler phase, and new crops more suited to the change were being cultivated, such as rye and barley rather than free-threshing wheat, which preferred a warmer and dryer climate (Schwarz 2011, 323).

Recovery If by 300 ce the Germanic provinces were very different, the last twenty years of the third century saw the Rhine frontier return to the center of imperial interest and emperors were regularly present in the region from 284. Trier became a permanent imperial residence, providing both stability and economic growth. Germania Superior was now divided into a northern section, Germania Prima, and a southern section, Maxima Sequanorum, that covered the southern upper Rhine and the area to the west around Vesontio (Besançon). The border between the two was situated to the south of Strasbourg. One difficulty in assessing the extent of the crisis in the last quarter of the third century, and therefore the extent of any recovery, is the relative lack of coins of the period as dating evidence, mainly due to the radical dramatic reduction in the coin supply from 275, as already noted. Numerous fortifications were strengthened or constructed (Reddé et al. 2006, for a gazetteer of late Roman fortifications; Brulet 2019), particularly along the line of the new frontier on the Upper German Rhine. Here the hilltop at Breisach was probably already fortified during the reign of Probus, perhaps not just as a frontier fort but also as a center for the population that had withdrawn from across the Rhine (Blöck and Zagermann 2018), and at Augst the Kastelen was abandoned and replaced by a more accessible 3.5 ha fortification at Kaiseraugst on the south bank of the Rhine (Schwarz 2011). At Deutz, opposite Cologne, a bridgehead fort was built under Constantine, while a reconsideration of the evidence from Boppard indicates that the fort there was built in the 330s, and not under Valentinian I as was previously thought (Bakker 2017). Some existing forts, such as Dormagen, were reduced in size.



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Further fortifications were constructed behind the frontier along the major routes in the hinterland, in what has been called a system of defense in depth. The Cologne-TongerenBavai road, which led to Boulogne and the English Channel but also effectively served as a frontier (as everything north of it was virtually depopulated), was fortified with a series of towers or small towerlike fortlets (burgi). A feature of these fourth century fortifications is their more massive and defensive architecture with projecting bastions. They were generally smaller than their early imperial counterparts, and in many cases there was no longer a clear distinction between military and civilian use. At the Katzenberg near Mayen, a military contingent was apparently housed at the top of the hill, while the area below was given over to civilian housing (Gilles 2008). There were also smaller scale, perhaps local, initiatives: a defensive ditch was dug around the theater at Avenches (de Pury-Gysel 2015, 182). Villa estates got towers or small defensive circuits around the main building in the late third and fourth centuries, as at over forty-five villas in the area west of Cologne (Päffgen 2011, 197–229; Henrich 2015, 177–187). Throughout much of the highland zone, a network of hilltop fortifications was built, sometimes with military involvement, that could serve as emergency refuges for the local population (Hunold 2011). At the same time, extensive construction at civilian sites like Alzey reflects returning ­stability and prosperity (Haupt and Jung 2006). At some sites, recent work shows more ­continuity of habitation, if still some reduction, through the late third century than was ­previously thought – for example, at Avenches. Overall, however, the Germanic provinces of the early fourth century were less densely populated, with fewer rural settlements and with smaller towns than in the early third century.

Aftermath The situation changed dramatically with the usurpation of Magnentius in 350. The ensuing civil war led to a wave of Germanic raids, traceable through shifts in the geographical concentration of coin hoards and destruction levels from 350 to 355 (Wigg 1991). These culminated in the sack of Cologne by the Franks in 355, archaeologically visible in several destruction contexts in the city (Fischer and Trier 2014, 345). Numerous fortified hilltop settlements now experienced a period of great activity and then sudden abandonment (Gilles 2008), while the legionary fortress at Mainz was devastated by a fire about 353/355 (Burger-Völlmecke 2020, 237). At Kaiseraugst, a massive destruction level and a huge hoard of late-Roman silver plate and coins (Guggisberg and Ewald 2003) testify to a catastrophe in 352. It was not until Valentinian I arrived in North Gaul in 365 that more effective measures were taken. In 368, he reestablished the imperial residence at Trier and an extensive program of reconstruction and fortification began (Reddé et al. 2006; Brüggler 2018a). Along the frontier, new forts were built, while along the Swiss Rhine a series of towers were erected as well as fortified granaries (as at Sisseln and Mumpf). On the right bank of the river, burgi served as fortified landing places for patrol boats (Figure 38.5; Heising 2012b). The boats that were employed to control this section of the frontier are well documented by the remains of five vessels from the late fourth/early fifth century that were discovered at Mainz (Bockius 2006). Further fortifications were constructed at the sites of earlier vici on important routes in the hinterland, for example Alzey, Bad Kreuznach, Eisenberg, and Oedenburg. Nevertheless, the Rhine provinces never fully recovered from the devastation of the 350s. Some parts of the left bank of the German upper Rhine remained deserted, and many villas were abandoned (Bernhard 1981). The number of villas in the Trier region significantly decreased in the second half of the fourth century, as did hilltop sites in the Eifel and Hunsrück

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Figure 38.5  Reconstruction of the riverside burgus at Ladenburg. © Kurpfälzisches Museum Heidelberg, B. Heukemes.

(Seiler 2015). Occupation at Xanten was greatly reduced (Otten 2011), while the legionary fortress at Mainz was demolished and the gap this left in the town walls closed (Heising 2008b). It says much for the measures of Valentinian I that the Rhine frontier remained relatively peaceful, even though the region was no longer the focus of Roman interest. In 401/402 Stilicho withdrew the remaining garrisons for his campaigns against the Goths (Claudian, On the Gothic War 419–429), securing the frontier through arrangements with the Germanic tribes beyond; on the Lower Rhine the Franks received substantial payments in gold (Roymans 2017), and at the end of the century the seat of the Praetorian Prefect was transferred from Trier to Arles in southern Gaul. As with the crisis of the third century, the traditional narrative of the decline of Roman power in the early fifth century has been revised in recent years (Fehr 2020). The old view that a horde of Vandals, Suebians, and Alans crossing the Rhine in the winter of 406/7 (Kulikowski 2000) led to a collapse of Roman control of the frontier is partly the result of difficulties in dating the material culture of the first half of the fifth century, since the supply of bronze coinage to Germania terminated about 400 (Wigg-Wolf 2020a, 219–253). A more secure chronology for roller-stamped Argonne sigillata indicates that many forts along the Rhine were occupied until the mid-fifth century, appreciably longer than previously believed (Bakker 2015; Brüggler 2018a). A hotspot of silver coins found around Frankfurt, the latest of Constantine III and Jovinus, probably indicates the settlement of Germanic foederati as part of Constantine III’s strategy to secure the area following the invasion (Wigg-Wolf 2020b), and in 428–431 the comes et magister militum per Gallias, Flavius Aetius, campaigned against the Salian Franks on the Lower Rhine, regaining territory that they had captured. There is no indication of a hiatus at major centers like Cologne, Bonn, Mainz, Strasbourg, and Kaiseraugst



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(Trier 2011; Müssmeier 2011; Knöchlein 2011; Kuhnle 2011; Schwarz 2011), nor at smaller towns such as Worms (Grünewald 2012). At some sites the settlement moved: at Xanten, a new town grew up around a burial in one of the cemeteries. At Tongeren, a fourth-century basilica, probably the seat of a bishop, formed the nucleus of the later town, although it is unclear whether there was settlement continuity throughout the fifth century (Vanderhoeven 2012). But to what extent the Church facilitated continuity is uncertain, as the true nature of structures previously interpreted as churches has been questioned (Ristow 2007). On the other hand, the fifth century did see a clear break in the rural landscape. Although there has been little extensive excavation of late rural settlements outside the southern Netherlands (Heeren 2017), it is clear that the villa system came to an end and was replaced by multi-farmstead settlements of timber longhouses and Grubenhäuser (Hamerow 2002). The former paradigm that the early fifth century saw the arrival of large numbers of Germanic settlers, with new burial customs and material culture displacing the old, is also being challenged; new analysis sees a synthesis of cultures with roots both inside and outside the empire. Customs previously seen as typically Germanic, such as weapons burials, are being reinterpreted (Theuws 2009), and certain items of attire are now seen as attributes of a Roman military elite, albeit ones that included a significant barbarian element (von Rummel 2007). The overall picture that is now emerging is one of a continuation of Roman control over much of the Germanic provinces until the mid-fifth century, even if the area was increasingly isolated from the emperors and the courts in Ravenna and Rome. It was only with the murder in 454 of the patricius Flavius Aetius, the victor over Attila at the Catalaunian Fields, that Rome’s power in the region collapsed fully, and the stage was left to the Germanic warlords and kingdoms that were to characterize the early Middle Ages.

Biographical Note David Wigg-Wolf studied Ancient History, Philosophy and Archaeology at Oxford University, where his DPhil thesis considered coin finds as a source for events in North Gaul in the mid-4th century ad. From 1984–2009 he was a Senior Researcher at the Mainz Academy project Fundmünzen der Antike, and since 2009 at the Römisch-Germanische Kommission der Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts. His work covers numismatics and archaeology from the Late Iron Age to Early Middle Ages.

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Kortüm, Klaus, and Andrea Neth. 2005. “Roms Provinzen an Neckar, Rhein und Donau.” In Imperium Romanum: Roms Provinzen an Neckar, Rhein und Donau. Begleitband zur Ausstellung des Landes Baden-Württemberg im Kunstgebäude Stuttgart vom 1. Oktober 2005 bis 8. Januar 2006, edited by Archäologisches Landesmuseum Baden-Württemberg, 225–229. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft. Kortüm, Klaus. 2020. “Archaeology of Germania Superior: Urban Settlements.” In The Oxford Handbook of the Archaeology of Roman Germany, edited by Simon James and Stefan Krmnicek, 53–91. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Kuhnle, Gertrud. 2011. “Straßburg: Kontinuitätslinien von der Spätantike zum Frühmittelalter.” In Römische Legionslager in den Rhein- und Donauprovinzen: Nuclei spätantik-frühmittelalterlichen Lebens?, edited by Michaela Konrad and Christian Witschel, 287–306. Munich: Bayerische Akademie der Wissenschaften. Kulikowski, Michael. 2000. “Barbarians in Gaul, Usurpers in Britain.” Britannia, 31: 325–345. Lenz, Karl Heinz. 2001. “Feinkeramik.” In Die römischen Provinzen, edited by Thomas Fischer, 290–293. Stuttgart: Theiss. Lindenthal, Jörg. 2007. Die ländliche Besiedlung der nördlichen Wetterau in römischer Zeit. Wiesbaden: Landesamt für Denkmalpflege Hessen. Lindenthal, Jörg. 2017. “Germanen diesseits des Limes: Neues zu Germanen am Wetteraulimes.” Der Limes, 11, no. 2: 20–23. Maurer, Thomas. 2009. “Germanen im Grenzgebiet an Rhein und Donau in den Jahrzehnten um die Zeitenwende.” In 2000 Jahre Varusschlacht: Mythos, edited by Rudolf Aßkamp, 67–76. Stuttgart: Theiss. Maurer, Thomas. 2014. “Der frühkaiserzeitliche Militärplatz bei Groß-Gerau-Wallerstädten in der hessischen Rheinebene: ein Überblick über die Forschungen seit 1999.” In Der Limes in Raetien, Ober- und Niedergermanien vom 1. bis 4. Jahrhundert: 7. Kolloquium der Deutschen Limeskommission 24./25. September 2013 in Aalen, edited by Peter Henrich, 22–33. Stuttgart: Theiss. Maurer, Thomas. 2020. “Roman Rural Landscape Occupation in Present-day Germany: An Overview.” In The Oxford Handbook of the Archaeology of Roman Germany, edited by Simon James and Stefan Krmnicek, 116–144. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Meyer, Michael. 2008. Mardorf 23, Kr. Marburg-Biedenkopf: Archäologische Studien zur Besiedlung des deutschen Mittelgebirgsraumes in den Jahrhunderten um Christi Geburt. Berliner Archäologische Forschungen 5. Rahden/Westf: Verlag Marie Leidorf. Meyer, Michael. 2018. “The Germanic-Roman Battlefields of Kalkriese and Harzhorn: A Methodological Comparison.” In Conflict Archaeology: Materialities of Collective Violence from Prehistory to Late Antiquity, edited by Manuel Fernández-Götz and Nico Roymans, 205–217. London, New York: Routledge. Moosbauer, Günther. 2020. “Roman Battlefields in Germany: Kalkriese and Harzhorn.” In The Oxford Handbook of the Archaeology of Roman Germany, edited by Simon James and Stefan Krmnicek, 149–165. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Müssmeier, Ulrike. 2011 “Bonn von der Spätantike zum Frühmittelalter.” In Römische Legionslager in den Rhein- und Donauprovinzen: Nuclei spätantik-frühmittelalterlichen Lebens?, edited by Michaela Konrad and Christian Witschel, 231–261. Munich: Bayerische Akademie der Wissenschaften. Nickel, Claudia. 2013. Martberg: Heiligtum und Oppidum der Treverer. 3. Die Siedlung: Funde und Befunde sowie naturwissenschaftliche Ergebnisse der Grabungen 1986/87 und 1994–2010. Berichte zur Archäologie an Mittelrhein und Mosel 19. Koblenz: Gesellschaft für Archäologie an Mittelrhein und Mosel. Nickel, Claudia, Martin Thoma, and David Wigg-Wolf. 2008. Martberg: Oppidum und Heiligtum der Treverer. Vol. I. Der Kultbezirk, Teil 1. Berichte zur Archäologie an



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Mittelrhein und Mosel 14. Koblenz: Gesellschaft für Archäologie an Mittelrhein und Mosel. Nüsslein, Antonin. 2018. “L’Alsace.” In Gallia Rustica. Vol. 2: les campagnes du Nord-Est de la Gaule, de la fin de l’âge du fer à l’antiquité tardive, edited by Michel Reddé, 657–682. Bordeaux: Ausonius. Nüsslein, Antonin, Nicolas Bernigaud, and Michel Reddé. 2018. “Les établisments ruraux du Haut-Empire.” In Gallia Rustica. Vol. 2: les campagnes du Nord-Est de la Gaule, de la fin de l’âge du fer à l’antiquité tardive, edited by Michel Reddé, 133–234. Bordeaux: Ausonius. Oldenstein, Jürgen. 1982. Der obergermanisch-raetische Limes des Römerreiches: Fundindex. Mainz: Philipp von Zabern. Otten, Thomas. 2011. “Xanten in der Spätantike. Ein urbanes Zentrum am Niederrhein.” In Römische Legionslager in den Rhein- und Donauprovinzen: Nuclei spätantikfrühmittelalterlichen Lebens?, edited by Michaela Konrad and Christian Witschel, 143–174. Munich: Bayerische Akademie der Wissenschaften. Otten, Thomas. 2012. “Zum Ende der CUT im 3. Jh. n. Chr.” In Die Krise des 3. Jahrhunderts n. Chr. und das Gallische Sonderreich: Akten des Interdisziplinären Kolloquiums Xanten 26. bis 28. Februar 2009, edited by Thomas Fischer, 197–218. Wiesbaden: Reichert. Päffgen, Bernd. 2011. “Die spätrömische Besiedlung im Umland von Köln.” In Römische Legionslager in den Rhein- und Donauprovinzen: Nuclei spätantik-frühmittelalterlichen Lebens?, edited by Michaela Konrad and Christian Witschel, 197–229. Munich: Bayerische Akademie der Wissenschaften. Päffgen, Bernd. 2012. “Köln und sein Umland zur Zeit der Soldatenkaiser (235–285 n. Chr.), besonders im Hinblick auf das Gallische Sonderreich.” In Die Krise des 3. Jahrhunderts n. Chr. und das Gallische Sonderreich: Akten des Interdisziplinären Kolloquiums Xanten 26. bis 28. Februar 2009, edited by Thomas Fischer, 97–150. Wiesbaden: Reichert. Peterse, Cornelis. 2005. “Luxury Living in the Praetorium on the Kops Plateau in Nijmegen. Quotations of Mediterranean Principles in Roman Provincial Architecture.” Bulletin Antieke Beschaving, 80: 163–198. Pury-Gysel, Anne de. 2011. “Aventicum (Avenches), Capital of the Helvetii: A History of Research, 1985–2010. Part 1. Early Roman Aventicum and its Origins.” Journal of Roman Archaeology, 24, no. 1: 7–46. Pury-Gysel, Anne de. 2012. “Aventicum (Avenches), Capital of the Helvetii: A History of Research, 1985–2010. Part II. Urban Development After A.D. 100, Crafts, and Finds.” Journal of Roman Archaeology, 25: 259–296. Pury-Gysel, Anne  de. 2015. “Avenches – Aventicum: Hauptstadt der Helvetier. Zum Forschungsstand 1985–2010.” Bericht der Römisch-Germanischen Kommission, 93: 107–233. Rasbach, Gabriele. 2018. “Waldgirmes: A Case of Iconoclasm (Bildersturm) and its Documentation in the Ground.” In Studia Barbarica: For Professor Andrzej Kokowski on his 65th Birthday, edited by Barbara Niezabitowska-Wiśniewska, Piotr Łuczkiewicz, Sylwester Sadowski, Marta Stasiak-Cyran, and Michael Erdrich, 502–510. Lublin: UMCS. Reddé, Michel. 2015. “Befunde und Erkenntnisse zu den römischen Militäranlagen am Oberrhein in augusteischer und tiberischer Zeit.” In Über die Alpen und über den Rhein: Beiträge zu den Anfängen und zum Verlauf der römischen Expansion nach Mitteleuropa, edited by Gustav Adolf Lehmann and Rainer Wiegels, 299–311. Berlin: De Gruyter. Reddé, Michel, Rudolf Fellmann, Raymond Brulet, J. K. Haalebos, and Siegmar  Von Schnurbein, eds. 2006. Les fortifications militaires. L’architecture de la Gaule romaine. Documents d’Archéologie Française 100. Paris, Bordeaux: Ausonius. Redknap, Mark. 1999. Die römischen und mittelalterlichen Töpfereien in Mayen, Kreis MayenKoblenz. Trier: Rheinisches Landesmuseum.

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CHAPTER 39

Britannia Pete Wilson

Introduction The province of Britannia (Figure 39.1) has already benefited from a volume in the Blackwell Companions to British History series (Todd 2004), but ten years on, there is much new and exciting work that demands attention, and a range of discoveries and approaches that allow received wisdom to be challenged. Todd (2004, xvii), along with other authorities, recognized the dominance of archaeological data amongst the sources available for the study of Roman Britain, but despite this, it was only in the latter half of the twentieth century that scholars began to prioritize the rich archaeological record in seeking to better understand Britannia, rather than trying to mold the archaeological evidence to fit a scanty, often uncertain, historical narrative, derived in large part from limited references in classical sources that were not primarily concerned with a remote province on the furthest edge of the empire. Traditionally, the greatest exception to the view that the historical record is of limited help in understanding the Roman period in Britain is Tacitus’s Agricola, which has provided us with a framework for the conquest of northern Wales, northern England, and Scotland. It has long been recognized, however, that the Agricola was a panegyric, written to honor Tacitus’s father-in-law, who was presented as a paragon of Roman military virtue and good governance. This brings into stark focus the dilemma that archaeologists face when dealing with historical sources: not only do they generally only survive in part, but much like material excavated from the ground, their context needs to be understood, whether that context be political, religious, or social. From the nineteenth century, the study of Britannia, and British archaeology in general, has benefited from the strength of antiquities legislation, which has been gradually increased. In terms of advancing understanding, or at least allowing the development of a fuller picture, perhaps the greatest contributions in the last ten years have come from two sources; developer-funded archaeology undertaken under the planning system on the basis of “polluter pays” (Fulford and Holbrook 2011) and through the work of the Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS: Portable Antiquities Scheme 2016), which was established in 1997 and

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 2, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

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1. Abermagwr 2. Alchester 3. Aldborough 4. Bagendon 5. Binchester 6. Birdoswald 7. Brougham 8. Brough-on-Humber 9. Caistor St. Edmund 10. Calstock 11. Catterick 12. Chichester 13. Cranbourne Chase 14. Danebury 15. Darrington to Dishforth 16. East Anglian Fens 17. Elginhaugh 18. Elslack 19. Fishbourne 20. Gloucester 21. Gorhambury 22. Hallerton 23. Halton Chesters 24. Hayton 25. Holme -on-Spalding Moor 26. Housesteads 27. Inveresk 28. Ipplepen 29. Kintore 30. Llanfor 31. Low Borrowbridge 32. Maryport 33. Nanstallon 34. Newcastle

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Figure 39.1  Map showing sites and regions mentioned in the text. By Jon Prudhoe.

extended to cover the whole of England and Wales, but not Scotland, in 2003. But there are, or have been, other contributors, not least the Aggregates Levy Sustainability Fund, derived from a tax on minerals extraction, some of which was used to fund archaeological work during the period 2002–2011 (Archaeology Data Service 2016a), and the Heritage Lottery Fund (2016), which provides funding for a variety of fieldwork, interpretation, and



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presentation projects. This funding has enabled many community-based groups and societies to undertake a wide range of projects, sometimes in association with commercial archaeological organizations and/or University departments, with the latter playing a key role in delivering groundbreaking research on a range of issues, often published via the Theoretical Roman Archaeology Conference (2016), or TRAC. Having originated in 1991 as a vehicle for post-graduate research, TRAC has provided opportunities for new thinking and approaches to be tested, as well as new voices heard, and continues to do so at its twenty-fifth iteration in 2015. In acknowledgment of current preferences in Romano-British studies, in part the product of contributions to various TRAC meetings, the terms “Romanization” and “Romanized” are largely avoided until the latter part of this chapter, despite the leanings of this author (Wilson 2015c). Reports of recent fieldwork and discoveries can be found in the annual “Roman Britain in (year)” section of the journal Britannia, which also carries reviews of most major British Roman-period site reports. British archaeologists, both in universities and commercial units, have been leading innovators in field techniques, recording practice and the development of scientific techniques. In common with the archaeology of other periods in Britain and that of countries the world over, Roman Britain has benefited from the development and wider application of new and improved technologies such as Lidar (LIght Detection And Ranging), large-scale geophysics, and DNA analysis. How all of these advances, and others, have contributed to the study of Britannia are explored below. From a starting point in 1996, a key change that has underpinned the development of robust research priorities, particularly for commercial archaeology, has been the creation of a range of research frameworks. These documents identify key priorities for research at a national level (see, e.g., Historic England 2016), within specialisms such as Roman pottery (Perrin 2011), and, perhaps most significantly, on a regional basis, where they extend to cover most of the United Kingdom (England: Association of Local Government Archaeology Officers 2016; Scotland: Scottish Archaeological Research Framework 2016; Wales: Research Framework for the Archaeology of Wales 2016). Having acknowledged that a wide variety of funding sources and other factors have shaped developments in the last ten years, and in some cases longer, the remainder of this contribution will seek to highlight at least some of the recent advances in our understanding of the province of Britannia. The structure adopted will be fairly conventional, and will consider those developments under broad headings: the army, towns, the countryside, material culture, bioarchaeological evidence and the end of Roman Britain. A series of case studies will illustrate the types of advances that have been, and continue to be, made in recovering ever better data and developing approaches to understanding. In addition, this paper will seek to demonstrate that divisions such as “towns” and “countryside” are essentially arbitrary, and hard distinctions based on them are increasingly hard to draw.

The Army In accord with the intense attention scholars have paid to Roman military sites, strategy, and infrastructure, new sites continue to be found and our understanding continues to change. The discovery of three forts in Cornwall, near St Austell and at Restromel and Calstock, where previously only one was known at Nanstallon, has served to challenge existing understanding of Roman military penetration of the south-western peninsula. Similarly, the recognition of other previously unknown Roman military sites, such as the fort at Staxton (North Yorkshire) and the legionary fortress claimed at Alchester (Oxfordshire), demand that we reconsider accepted understandings of Roman military strategy and dispositions. For example, in the case of Alchester, whether the military site is a fortress or a smaller fort, dendrochronological dates from gate timbers demonstrate that the Roman army was established in

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northern Oxfordshire by the winter of 44–45 AD at the latest. Those discoveries derive in large part from what may be considered “conventional” archaeological techniques, but the interrogation of Lidar data (usually accumulated for nonarchaeological purposes, although increasingly for archaeology) can yield rich dividends, such as a putative third fort at Elslack (North Yorkshire) and even new temporary camps within such intensively studied landscapes as that of Hadrian’s Wall (e.g., at Shield-on-the-Wall). While putting dots on maps is an essential step in understanding military strategy, however, it should not be an end in itself; too often Roman military archaeology has espoused objectives more worthy of stamp-collectors than an academic discipline. Only by using new discoveries to better understand the processes and purposes of Roman military engagement in Britain do we go beyond the limited intellectual gains represented by site-specific biographies. Though some Roman military specialists may, in the past, have been rather too limited in their attempts to understand their sites, it is only fair to point out that they have often been the most open to wider engagement with colleagues outside Britain. This is perhaps most manifest in the (normally) triennial International Roman Frontiers (Limes) Congresses that have brought together scholars from a wide range of countries since 1949. The broad similarities of many types of military site across the Roman Empire and a tendency to assume, or even accept, commonalities between military units, has underpinned that engagement (see Busch, “The Military,” chapter 6 of this volume). International cooperation has found its most formal expression in the creation of the Frontiers of the Roman Empire World Heritage Site (WHS). Hadrian’s Wall became a WHS in 1987, and in 2005 was made part of the newly inscribed transnational Frontiers of the Roman Empire WHS, which also incorporates the Upper German and Raetian Limes, and was extended in 2008 to include the Antonine Wall in Scotland. Beyond the creation and extension of the WHS, recent years have seen a significant increase in work on the military sites of northern England, after a period when they fell somewhat out of favor. In addition, a number of important older “backlog” excavations have been published on sites like Housesteads (ancient Vercovicium; Rushworth 2009), Halton Chesters (Onnum; Dore 2010), Binchester (Vinovia; Ferris 2010) and Piercebridge (Morbium? Cool and Mason 2008). Long-term research excavations have continued at Vindolanda (modern Chesterholm) and South Shields, and substantial new campaigns of excavation have been undertaken at Binchester in County Durham (Figure 39.2), Maryport (ancient Alauna) and on a smaller scale at Ravenglass (Glannoventa), both in Cumbria. Noninvasive exploration has been undertaken around the fort of Whitley Castle (Epiacum) in Northumberland, along with other work at a range of sites in response to development pressures. While all the new investigations and publications are welcome, the projects at Binchester, Maryport, and Ravenglass are important in specifically targeting settlements outside the fort walls. It has long been recognized that the civilian settlements associated with the forts of northern England, commonly known as vici, despite a lack of evidence for their legal status in most cases, have been under-researched, as past scholars concentrated on the military elements of sites. Although it has frequently been acknowledged that the “military” (within the fort) depended for a variety of services and support activities on the “civilians” (outside the fort), the objectives of both the Binchester and Vindolanda projects include the study of the site as a whole, with a view to better understanding the extent to which its community, or communities, were linked and interdependent. Though exploration at Maryport and Ravenglass does not include work within the forts, it adds substantially to our knowledge of the extramural settlements of the region. Recent work in the Hadrian’s Wall zone and further south within Cumbria confirms a phenomenon previously suggested by limited study of the vici of the region, such as at Housesteads, that most of the civilian settlements were severely reduced, if not abandoned, in the later third century; while at both Newcastle (Pons Aelii) and Vindolanda there is evidence for “civilian-type” activity, e.g., possible markets, within the defenses of the forts in the later fourth century. This contrasts with the picture farther



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Figure 39.2  Binchester: interior of the main changing room of the bath-house looking south. © Durham University.

south on the eastern side of the country, where civilian elements of sites such as Binchester, Catterick (Cataractonium), and Piercebridge appear to continue strongly into the late fourth century and probably beyond. During the first decade of this century, Roman forts and extramural settlements in the Hadrian’s Wall zone have been the subject of large-scale geophysical surveys, principally magnetometry, providing a much clearer picture of the sites. A similar program has been undertaken in Wales, with important surveys at sites such as Llanfor and Tomen y Mur in Gwynedd. In Scotland, the report on Elginhaugh (Hanson 2007) provides us with a coherent exploration of a timber-built Roman fort recorded to a high standard, and work at Inveresk (East Lothian), in advance of development threats, continues to provide new evidence for the Roman military occupation of Scotland. Of equal significance are recent volumes on the temporary camps of both Wales (Davies and Jones 2006) and Scotland (Jones 2011), works that will remain important sources for decades to come. Britain had an extraordinary number of temporary camps – close to 500 – compared to the rest of the empire. Though too often dismissed as probably archaeologically sterile or at best difficult to date, their potential has been demonstrated by the remarkable site of Kintore (Aberdeenshire), where large numbers of Roman military ovens and a substantial assemblage of artifacts provide insights into the functioning of such a temporary camp. Notable amongst the discoveries was an apparent lack of a regular layout for the ovens, rubbish pits, and other features recorded within the defenses, as well as evidence of a relative longevity of occupation, suggested by the use of dung for fuel, as it would have required drying before use (Cook and Dunbar 2008, 128–149). Much has been published about the identification and location of units, but we remain woefully underinformed about the soldiers themselves. The publication of the cemetery at Brougham (ancient Brocavum) in Cumbria demonstrates the potential of such studies (see below), illuminating burial practice during the third century with apparent, if possibly indirect,

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links to Pannonia. Given these possible links, Brougham may not be typical of Roman fort cemeteries at the time, and certainly contrasts with the cemetery at Low Borrowbridge, also in Cumbria, where neither the complexity nor intrusive rites seen at Brougham were in evidence.

Towns The introduction of towns is generally seen as one undoubted product of the Roman conquest of Britain, but recent work has suggested that the picture may be more complex. Oppida, nucleated pre-Roman settlements, are known, principally in southern England, but cannot be claimed to be “urban” in any meaningful sense. However, at Silchester (Calleva Atrebatum) in Hampshire, the long-term excavations on its Insula IX have revealed rectilinear buildings dating to the mid-first century bce, on an alignment oblique to the later town grid but shared with buildings known from nineteenth-century antiquarian excavations, and thus a settlement that would have been recognizable as a town to Roman eyes. Silchester lies in the territory of the Atrebates, which probably also included Chichester (Noviomagus Reginorum) in Sussex and Winchester (Venta Belgarum) in Hampshire. Although no evidence of such early urban development is known from either town, the sequence now known from Silchester suggests that other major centers, at least in southern England, could have had earlier origins than is currently accepted. Silchester is exceptional in being a major town that is largely unencumbered by medieval and modern buildings; archaeological interventions at most other sites are more challenging due to the presence of standing buildings and other constraints. Nonetheless, one of the most difficult, Roman London (Londinium), has produced and continues to produce new evidence of the highest quality from both sides of the River Thames (London proper to the north and Southwark to the south), with sites along the Walbrook Valley (e.g., Drapers’ Gardens (Figure 39.3) and Bucklersbury House) being particularly productive. The large number of interventions across the city along the new Crossrail rail line have also added much new data, including additional skulls from the former Walbrook River, which may help provide a better understanding of origins and significance of “hundreds” of skulls found in the area in the nineteenth century. Other Roman period evidence suggests substantial investment in the development of agriculture and water management in the immediate environs of the developing settlement (Crossrail 2016). The richness of the London material and the highquality reports from a number of contracting archaeological organizations operating within the city does mean that overall synthesis is a challenge. London is possibly the only major town of Roman Britain that could be argued to be a “commercial” town, insofar as such a thing existed in the northwestern provinces. Like all settlements, it would have been dependent on its hinterland for much of its food and fuel, some possibly grown and harvested by people living in its suburbs, and it will inevitably have drawn in the raw materials for craft and industrial activity from a larger catchment. Its prosperity will have depended, at least in part, on the added value generated by those crafts and industries, as well as its role as a key trading port with links to other parts of Britannia, the wider empire, and probably beyond. Furthermore, Londinium was a provincial capital for most of the Roman period and housed a military garrison, at least for much of the second century, suggesting a substantial, if indirect, imperial contribution to its economy through the presence of the governor’s staff, army personnel and other officials. Substantial excavations in cities and towns of Roman Britain are fairly rare, although recent archaeological work at Vine Street in Leicester is an exception. In general, new data have gradually accumulated from excavations due to development, leading to problems like those



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Figure 39.3  Roman-period timber structures under excavation at Draper’s Gardens, London. © PreConstruct Archaeology.

discussed for Roman London, specifically a lack of synthesis. That lacuna has been abated by a recent assessment of the contribution of commercial archaeology to the study of Roman Britain and review of our current understanding of Roman towns in England (Fulford and Holbrook 2015). Though the empire-wide contacts of London and some other major towns may show how Britain related to the wider Roman world, study of the relationships between towns, smaller settlements, and rural sites may be more significant for understanding Roman Britain. The “Town and Country in Roman Essex” project explores the potential of available data to aid in understanding those relationships. The results include the identification of change through time, including a maintenance of the pre-conquest Gallo-Belgic elite identity expressed through material culture in the pre-Boudican revolt period, which disappeared after the suppression of the rebellion. The engagement with “things Roman” demonstrates a clear urban/ non-urban divide, with the cities of Colchester and London as centers of consumption for imports from the wider empire and the region, but as a result of the activities of the cities’ inhabitants rather than the peasant population of the region, their relationship being heavily weighted in the favor of the urban populations. Although greater access to urban markets is seen from the second century, the urban/non-urban divide is maintained with most of the “small towns” “continuing to share a greater affinity with rural assemblages” (Perring and Pitts 2013, 248–249). Minor urban settlements in Roman Britain have been extensively researched, but until recently discussion has focused only on well-known sites and data readily available from published literature. Much ink has been spilt on the character and significance of sites lower in status than civitas capitals, municipia and coloniae (hereafter “major towns”), variously defined (with or without defenses), and described as “minor” or “small towns,” “middle order” or “roadside settlements,” or “secondary agglomerations,” a borrowing from our

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French colleagues by those seeking an “objective” description. All these terms come with problems. Some sites are not small, such as the defended area at Water Newton (Durobrivae) in Cambridgeshire, which at 20 ha is larger than the Icenian civitas capital Caistor St. Edmund/Caistor-by-Norwich (Venta Icenorum) in Norfolk, and is surrounded by ca. 100 ha of settlement and industrial areas. While it is relatively easy to propose social, governmental, and economic functions for the major towns, understanding the character and functions of a very diverse group of smaller settlements is more difficult, though central to any understanding of the economy and society of Roman Britain. Where those sites existed without any form of imperial subvention, such as a fort or mansio and the associated economic activity, how was the settlement sustained? Inevitably, the answers are varied, with details being site-specific and all too often derived from relatively small areas of each settlement. Aerial survey has long contributed to our understanding of Roman-period sites, since walls and well-defined ditches at major sites have made them ready targets for air photography. More recently, extensive geophysical surveys, combined with fieldwalking and metal detector surveys, are being used to study urban settlements of all sizes. Among the major towns, Wroxeter (Viroconium Cornoviorum, civitas capital of the Cornovii) in Shropshire (discussed later in the chapter) and Caistor St. Edmund (Figure 39.4) have been objects of such landscape-based approaches, and they are now being applied to Aldborough (Isurium Brigantum, civitas capital of the Brigantes) in North Yorkshire. Among major towns, these sites are exceptional, in that they are largely free of later development, although a medieval and later village lies within the walls of Aldborough. Minor Romano-British towns and roadside settlements were often, but not always, less intensively built on than the major towns, offering opportunities for noninvasive survey as well as excavation work targeted on pressing research questions, rather than being restricted to areas of proposed development. On the other hand, many significant discoveries, both of sites like the second-century mass grave from Gloucester (Colonia Nervia Glevensium or Glevum) and objects like the Minories’ eagle sculpture from London, are products of development-led archaeology.

Town and Hinterland: Wroxeter and Environs Every Roman town, large or small, is different in a multitude of ways, ranging from the underlying geology to the level of modern development and the extent and quality of previous archaeological investigations, not to mention their individual histories. As a consequence, it is difficult, if not impossible, to offer up a model project. But one stands head and shoulders above most others: the Wroxeter Hinterlands Project, undertaken from 1994–1997 but published during the decade that is the focus of this chapter (Gaffney, White, and Goodchild 2007; White, Gaffney, and Gaffney 2013). Wroxeter was already one of the most intensively researched sites of Roman Britain, through both antiquarian endeavor and long-term excavations during the second half of the twentieth century, most notably by Graham Webster working on the baths and macellum (Ellis 2000) and legionary fortress (Webster 2002) and by Philip Barker; the latter’s excavations within the baths basilica (Barker et al. 1997) set standards for meticulous stratigraphic excavation and recording that continue to challenge the rest of the profession to this day. The Wroxeter Hinterlands Project went further in researching the settlement pattern of the region, using extensive geophysical survey within and outside the walls, aerial survey data, surface survey by fieldwalking and metal detecting, and targeted excavation. All this was set against a wide range of other data on geology, soils, and preexisting archaeological information, and incorporated into a Geographic Information System (GIS). Outside the Roman town, a T-shaped hinterland of 233 km2 was extended in 5 km wide transects to the northeast, southwest and northwest, within which 1 km squares were sampled to test for distance



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Figure 39.4  Magnetometry survey of Caistor St. Edmund (Venta Icenorum). © University of Nottingham.

dependent distribution of sites and material culture; a number of known archaeological sites outside the transects were also explored. This approach sought to address the artificial nature of the “town/countryside” division noted in the Introduction above, on the premise that attempting to understand the fourth largest town of Roman Britain in isolation from its hinterland would have constrained potential interpretation. At the start of the project there were few

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Roman-period sites in the study area displaying a high degree of contact with “things Roman,” although the town was ringed by smaller settlements at 15–25 km distance, roughly a day’s journey from the town (Gaffney, White, and Goodchild 2007, 38). Before this project, the existence of a pre-Roman Cornovian elite had been doubted, but the project’s authors, using metal-detected finds, suggested that a local elite had access to resources sufficient to allow the acquisition of at least some high-quality Roman-style objects. Thus, as in other parts of Roman Britain, the Cornovii seem to have possessed an elite that could have formed the basis of the urban society that developed after the departure of Legio XX Valeria Victrix to Chester, although a role for veterans in the development is also possible. The integration of available datasets from all sources permitted detailed evidence for the town of Wroxeter to be drawn together in an insula by insula atlas incorporating descriptions of all the known buildings. The town that emerged …saw the provision of the major and impressive public buildings … along with the critical infrastructure represented by the aqueduct and the all-important armature of roads and porticos … Yet progress … was apparently patchy … (White, Gaffney, and Gaffney 2013, 201)

In contrast with this patchy progress, the authors postulated a highly Romanized minority who adopted or aped elite practices associated with patronage and display and not readily observed elsewhere in Britain outside London. Analysis of the substantial animal bone assemblage from the town suggested zonation based on the importance of livestock to the urban economy, and as the authors state, this is a rare case of being able to clearly see the basis of a town’s wealth in the Roman period. According to excavated evidence, the fortunes of the town, or at least some of its public buildings, waned through the later third and fourth centuries, with the Forum’s Basilica being lost to fire. The Baths’ Basilica’s well-known late and post-Roman sequences, however, show that it (and the site) lasted into the fifth century and beyond, although the data do not as yet let us understand the nature of that occupation. The construction of Wroxeter’s defenses in the second century had reduced access to the immediate hinterland, but agriculture remained important to the economy, as mentioned above. Developments in the wider landscape have been studied not just by the Wroxeter Hinterlands Project but also through increased access to remote sensing data and via commercially funded archaeology since the introduction of Planning Policy Guidance Note 16 (PPG 16) in 1990 (Fulford and Holbrook 2011). A stark demonstration of that change is provided by the numbers of villas or “other substantial buildings” recorded on the Ordinance Survey Map of Roman Britain: three on the 1978 edition, compared with ten on the 2011 edition, with most of those located within 3 km of the probable route of the Roman road known as Watling Street, extending from Wroxeter towards Wales. Despite that threefold increase, rural sites with clearly Roman attributes remain relatively scarce, as do Roman period finds from the wider landscape, certainly in comparison with what might be expected in southern or eastern England. To take ceramic building material (tile and brick) as an example: 90% of the material recovered was from within 4 km of the town, and of the fourteen finds spots that produced tile during the surface survey, only four produced more than thirteen fragments (excluding Wroxeter itself). The conclusion was that, despite the scale of development at Wroxeter and the presence of a number of rural sites displaying Roman attributes, the landscape of Roman-period Shropshire largely retained its pre-Roman appearance of being dominated by small



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farmsteads. Even allowing for the existence of perhaps ten villas (though Gaffney, White and Goodchild [2007, 141] interpreted the “villa” at Whitley Grange as a hunting lodge), the rural economy was dominated by farmsteads, and they presumably produced most of the cattle so important to the economy of Wroxeter. What we do not, and probably cannot, know are the social structures that underpinned the rural economy within the territory of the Cornovii, nor can we confidently suggest how the farmsteads related to the handful of villas, or to the elite who occupied the major houses in Wroxeter. The small scale and restricted distribution of villas suggests that they did not generally act as estate centers with dependent settlements, but could the farmsteads have been tenancies held from the urban elite, who took their rents in cattle? Whatever the relationships, it is clear that the resources of the countryside were integral to the functioning of the town.

The Countryside The Wroxeter Hinterlands study has shown how crucial the countryside was to the economies of even the highest-ranking towns. That in itself is not surprising, as probably at least 80% of Britannia’s population lived in the countryside. The study of the Romano-British countryside was dominated by villa studies for most of the twentieth century, with that work often being largely or completely focused on the villa house. Our understanding began to change with the advent of large-scale linear schemes in advance of roads, pipelines, railways, and other major infrastructure schemes. Such work was paid for by the state prior to the introduction of the “polluter pays” principle in 1990 (see above), since when it has been charged to the developer, leading to an increase in the volume of work. Such projects provide almost random archaeological transects through the countryside, albeit ones that usually avoid known archaeological sites as far as is practicable. They offer the opportunity for extensive geophysical and surface surveys and for the excavation of fields and settlement peripheries that otherwise would be accorded low priority. They also provide opportunities to investigate the cores of important sites, as in the case of High Speed 1, a new railway linking London to continental Europe via the Channel Tunnel. Excavations were undertaken at various sites in Kent, including Thurnham Roman villa (Figure 39.5), a cemetery at Pepper Hill, and a town at Springhead (Vagniacis) – the latter already well known as a religious site with at least seven temples. Excavation of such sites with the benefit of modern conditions and access to the full range of contemporary scientific and computer-based analyses offers advantages not only in understanding the sites in question but also in providing context and comparators for past projects undertaken without such resources. One of the key changes in our understanding of the rural archaeology of Roman period Britain has been recognizing the existence of a wide range of local expressions of engagement, or lack of it, with the Roman presence. Romano-British archaeologists moved away from simple oppositions of “Roman” vs. “native” and “civilian south” vs. “military north” decades ago. For example, areas such as the East Anglian Fenland, Cranborne Chase in Dorset, and the Upper Thames Valley have been recognized as atypical due to a lack of villas, with the presence of Roman imperial estates offered as a possible explanation. Nonetheless, researchers have been far slower to recognize that local diversity was probably common. That slowness may have reflected earlier scholars’ near-fixation with Roman villas when it came to the study of the countryside, at least in the “civilian south”; areas without them may have seemed less interesting. A theoretical shift came in the 1990s, when various scholars of Roman rural settlement sought to consider evidence for social diversity at both inter-site and intra-site levels. A major study by Taylor (2007) sought to build on the evolving theoretical context, using primarily

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Figure 39.5  Plan of Thurnham Roman villa showing development sequence, starting with an Iron Age farmstead. © Oxford Archaeology.

local Sites and Monuments Record (SMR; now Historic Environment Record – HER) data, as well as aerial survey, testing six major aspects of Roman rural settlement: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

Settlement dispersion, nucleation, and urbanism Settlement patterns, continuity, and change Status, architecture, and the spatial organization of rural settlement Landscape of production Cosmology, ritual, and belief Military and civilian communities

Taylor also tried to establish a national methodology, informing programs of designation for statutory protection. His analysis split England into eight regions, with regional studies supported by local studies of air photographic or field-walked data, though broad observations were also made: … the national pattern [is] suggestive of a two-fold divide between overwhelmingly dispersed enclosed pattern of rural settlement in the far north, the west, and southwest of England, and a far more mixed dispersed and nucleated linear system and enclosed landscape in the Midland and south east … (Taylor 2007, 107)

Not surprisingly, this attempt at an objective assessment of the characteristics of rural settlement using criteria that might have national relevance demonstrated the remarkable diversity of rural settlement both regionally and subregionally. That diversity resulted from a



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range of factors, including obvious elements such as differences in geology and topography, but also, for example, distinctive local land allotment and use patterns. Taylor used evidence from metal detecting that had been incorporated in SMRs, but his study did not utilize what has subsequently become one of the most significant contributors to our knowledge of the Roman rural landscape, the Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS, see above). The PAS records finds made by the general public, largely but not exclusively by metal detectorists. Offering finds for recording is voluntary, and it is believed that there are a significant number of detectorists who work within the requirements of the law but choose not to have their finds recorded (Wilson 2015b). Consequently, PAS data must be handled with care, but all archaeological data are partial in some way, either due to a sampling strategy or to partial preservation of sites under investigation. What is clear is that finds reported under the PAS have added immensely to our knowledge of Roman Britain (and other periods). Newly identified sites include the rural settlement at Ipplepen, South Devon, an area that had previously lacked evidence for Roman period occupation, while new data have been added for relatively well-known sites. Perhaps one of the most spectacular finds from a known site has come from the River Tees at Piercebridge on the County Durham/North Yorkshire boundary, where amateur divers found a substantial assemblage of coins and other Roman period material, probably representing votive offerings deposited over a period of perhaps two centuries (Walton 2008). The resource represented by PAS data is huge, with over 1,200,000 artifacts recorded as of 2016; Roman period objects represent about 40% of the total, including ca. 225,000 coins and 25,000 brooches. Archaeological research now routinely incorporates PAS data, with the website (Portable Antiquities Scheme 2016) listing 538 projects of all periods, from school projects to PhDs and international research, but their full research potential is yet to be realized. Brindle (2014) has sought to assess the contribution that PAS data can make to the understanding of Roman Britain, particularly settlement patterns, by considering five sample areas from contrasting parts of England in terms of the known archaeology and character of finds assemblages, geology, and topography. Brindle’s work identified potential new sites in all areas, even in Cumbria, where the visibility of demonstrably Roman period sites, far from forts and associated vici, is limited; but to achieve this, he had to reduce the threshold of find numbers used to identify potential locations. While this might appear as “fixing” the results, it is a realistic response to the regional rural manifestation of the Roman period. PAS data clearly has great potential, but like any other data must be used with care, recognizing not only their partial nature but also their local context within assemblages. Recently there have been several major studies that seek to better understand the rural landscape of Britannia: ●

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The “Fields of Britannia” project (Rippon, Smart, and Pears 2015) studied the extent to which the field systems we see today, often traceable as far back as late medieval times, may have originated in the Roman period. “English Landscapes and Identities” (University of Oxford, School of Archaeology 2016) explores the long-term history of the English landscape from ca. 1500 bce to 1086 ce. Most notably, the “Rural Settlement of Roman Britain” project (University of Reading Archaeology 2016; Archaeology Data Service 2016b) seeks to write a new account of Roman rural settlement in England and Wales using both unpublished and published sources, with particular emphasis on the “gray literature” produced by developer-funded archaeology that often does not achieve conventional publication (Fulford and Holbrook 2014).

Although such University-based projects are already challenging established interpretations, work at the “coal face” of Romano-British archaeology, that is, on development-led projects, is also modifying how Roman Britain is perceived. This is particularly true with respect to the

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archaeology of the rural landscape. Hodgson’s work in the environs of Hadrian’s Wall has used extensive programs of radiocarbon dating and Bayesian modeling to suggest that sites originating in the Iron Age were abandoned, not following the Roman conquest, but around the time of the construction of the Wall. This could indicate that a cleared zone may have been created at Roman behest, or possibly that building the Wall may have affected the economic viability of settlements in the region (Hodgson, McKelvey, and Muncaster 2012). Another advance resulting from recent developer-funded excavations at sites such as Ingleby Barwick (Willis and Carne 2013) and Faverdale (Proctor 2012) is the extension of the “villa zone” north of the River Tees, where previously only a single possible villa was known. These northern villa sites are small scale, showing a wide variety of local responses to the Roman presence and Roman models (Wilson 2015a). Equally surprising has been the discovery from the air, with confirmation through excavation, of the first villa found in western central Wales, at Abermagwr (Ceredigion).

Investigating Rural Landscapes: Two Contrasting Approaches in Yorkshire The first approach derived from the upgrading to motorway standards of part of the modern A1 trunk road from London to Scotland. In the period from 1992 to 2016, this project’s North and West Yorkshire section has necessitated several phases of fieldwork, providing opportunities to investigate a wide range of sites, although predevelopment mitigation built into the design has biased the sample towards lower-order sites. For example, the area between Darrington in West Yorkshire and Dishforth in North Yorkshire, a 58 km long corridor, produced over sixty sites, around one-third of which had finds of the Romano-British period (Brown et al. 2007). This revealed a complex picture of land divisions, some with their origins in the pre-Roman Iron Age, but Iron Age pottery was lacking and Roman ceramics and objects limited (only four Roman coins) within that landscape until the mid-second century ce. One site, C4SA, appeared to originate during the Roman period and demonstrated a higher level of engagement with “things Roman”: some of its structures incorporated stone footings, but there were also considerable numbers of nails, providing evidence for significant timber elements. These structures varied from square or subrectangular to oval in plan, and produced relatively large quantities of late third and fourth century pottery. Other sites in the area showed continuity from the Iron Age into the Roman period, though on some occupation had ceased before the conquest of the area in 71 ce. While the foci of occupation often lay outside the areas that development made available, there was enough evidence to suggest zonation within settlements, often, but not always, bounded by ditches. Some areas of settlement were based on major land divisions with attached fields or enclosures, while more open areas suggested grazing. Within the project area, contrasts in the settlement pattern could be identified, with aerial photographs indicating more dispersed habitation north of the River Aire. Although conclusions from such a development-determined sample must be constrained, such investigations do provide insights into landscape and settlement character that not only are important data in themselves but also allow us to reinterpret and refine our understanding of data from earlier work. The second approach was the long-term investigation of the landscape of the lowlands of East Yorkshire, focused on areas around Holme-on-Spalding-Moor, Shiptonthorpe, and Hayton. Though originating earlier than the rest of the initiatives discussed in this chapter, this decades-long project has illuminated an archaeologically rich landscape and offered nuanced interpretations of how a complex Iron Age landscape developed and changed through the Roman period; it stands as a testament to what can be achieved through cooperation between university-based researchers and local non-professional archaeologists. The



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first element of the research investigated an 8 × 8 km landscape that included the Holme-onSpalding-Moor and the Throlam pottery industries that developed in the third century ce and, in the case of Throlam, peaked in the fourth century ce. The settlement pattern was strongly influenced by a system of creeks and inlets that, at least until changes in sea level and tidal regime, gave access to the River Humber near the (probable) Parisian civitas capital of Brough-on-Humber (Petuaria). Pottery production was dispersed rather than centralized, but products were nonetheless transported out of the area and, as elsewhere in Roman Britain, there was intensive use of the landscape both for settlement and agriculture. The investigators concluded that an apparent increase in settlement in the Roman period simply represents a greater visibility of settlements as the pottery industry developed and ceramics became readily available, in contrast with the Iron Age, when the area may have been largely aceramic (Halkon and Millett 1999). The second element of the East Yorkshire project focused on the Roman roadside settlement of Shiptonthorpe, located some 6 km northeast of Holme-on-Spalding-Moor, on the Roman road between Brough-on-Humber and the colonia and legionary fortress of York (Eboracum). Archaeological finds had been recorded there since the nineteenth century, and more recently the area became a target for intense activity by metal-detectorists, which prompted the archaeological investigation (Millett 2006). Its strategy, as at Holme-onSpalding-Moor and Hayton (see below), was to utilize all potential data sets, incorporating natural environment evidence with the results of antiquarian and casual discoveries, aerial survey, fieldwalking and metal-detected finds, geophysics, and targeted excavation. The excavation data and analysis incorporated not only finds distributions, but volumetric analysis of deposits and their assemblages, taking discussions about the level of material culture in circulation to the heart of site analysis. Results suggest that the development of the site was a response to the creation of the Roman road; a series of farm-like enclosures were probably created by local people in the early to mid-second century, with some immigrants coming from south of the River Humber, or at least the appearance of some nonlocal material culture and practices. Looking at the settlement in its landscape allowed a number of issues to be considered beyond the character and function of the buildings excavated, especially the relationship of the site to its hinterland. It was suggested that the earliest settlement could represent the private acquisition of previously communal land, and that the site’s economy was focused on serving the needs of travelers on the road until the fourth century, when the character of both the settlement and its economy changed. Boundaries within the site were then removed, suggesting more communality, and a larger proportion of Holme-on-SpaldingMoor ceramics indicated expanded contact with the region and possibly an involvement in the collection of taxes in coin or kind. Hayton, the third element of the East Yorkshire “trilogy,” is located 5 km northwest of Shiptonthorpe on the same Roman road (Halkon, Millett, and Woodhouse 2014). As at Holme-on-Spalding-Moor, but not Shiptonthorpe, the Roman-period settlement was imposed on a complex Iron Age landscape. At Hayton, the earliest significant element of the Roman-period landscape was a fort, probably for a normal infantry cohort (cohors quingenaria peditata), built around 71 ce, the generally accepted date for the Roman conquest of Yorkshire, although it is possible that the Roman army occupied East Yorkshire in the 60s ce (Wilson 2009). The fort predated the Roman road and, although only occupied for perhaps 20–25 years, became a focus for civilian settlement that was presumably engaged in supplying the fort, at least in part. After the abandonment of the fort, a settlement alongside the Roman road rapidly developed, seemingly like that at Shiptonthorpe: farmers migrated to the road-focused site, which produced many Roman-style artifacts and a very large number of coins, suggesting economic integration into the new post-conquest system. Indeed the excavators suggest that the roadside settlement may have retained a role in military supply.

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All aspects of the East Yorkshire project were conceived on a regional scale in order to set the individual sites recorded or excavated in a broader context, as was the case with the Wroxeter project already discussed. Such landscape-scale work is increasingly common in research projects undertaken in Britain, whether regional surveys, such as the Somerset Levels or North-West Wetlands projects funded by English Heritage in the 1980s and 1990s, or landscape-scale recording and analysis around Danebury (Hampshire), in the Vale of Pickering (North Yorkshire), or around Bagendon oppidum (Gloucestershire) (see Breeze 2014, 12–16, 26–30 for the latter two projects).

Artifacts For too long most archaeologists regarded material culture as secondary data, useful for dating and, perhaps, providing some insight into the activities undertaken on a site. Material specific studies have been commonplace, but all too often are rarely read by nonspecialists. For example, probably few “mainstream” archaeologists have ever opened a volume of the Numismatic Chronicle, though this journal frequently publishes important articles on Roman coins in Britain. Fortunately times are changing, not least through the influence of the Roman Finds Group (2014) and its members. Two recent volumes (Hingley and Willis 2007; Allason-Jones 2011) illustrate new approaches to finds, while finds-based papers figure large among presentations at TRAC meetings. These recognize that objects can be “culturally loaded and encode information on the societies that produced and consumed them” (Willis and Hingley 2007, 2). In addition they identify the possibility of “employing data acquired through the study of finds to engage with social, economic and metaphysical dimensions of the period” (Willis and Hingley 2007, 3). As acknowledged by Hingley and Willis (2007, 8), the basic procedures of finds work, that is, “classifying, cataloguing, quantifying and comparing,” are essentially processualist, but provide a sound basis from which to develop a post-processualist or other paradigm, as demonstrated by Carr in her consideration of expressions of creolization as identified by the use of toilet instruments – that is, sets consisting of a nail cleaner, ear scoop, and tweezers hung from a chatelaine (Carr 2007). The contributors to Allason-Jones’s volume each take a theme and discuss the material culture that relates to it: “The principle behind this method is the premise that throughout history every object …. was originally designed for a particular purpose” (Allason-Jones 2011, xiv). Some may recoil from such an apparently functionalist position, but even the most theoretically charged objects will have had a purpose, as will the least; a casually whittled and thrown away stick may only have briefly amused the whittler, but providing that amusement was still a function. A functionalist approach to material culture was embedded in the mainstream of Romano-British archaeology following the publication of Crummy’s (1983) volume on small finds from Colchester, her approach being widely adopted by her peers. Despite that ground-breaking change, all too often the finds reports that followed focused on comparanda, or were predicated on the perceived function of the site or context they came from. Allason-Jones and her contributors focused on the objects themselves, recognizing that, in functional terms, an object might have had more than one possible use. An illustration of how “finds studies” have developed was Eating and Drinking in Roman Britain (Cool 2006). The author is a leading finds specialist, but her subject demanded the integration of a multiplicity of finds types with environmental and site data. Cool’s study followed her subject from production (of both the food and associated necessities, such as amphorae to transport it), through preparation, consumption (including dining habits), and



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beyond, including burial evidence for diet. In addition, Cool considered change over time, from the conquest period through what might be termed the “maturing” province of the later second and third centuries, to her “different world” of the fourth and fifth centuries (Cool 2006, 221–242). By transcending the conventional divisions between specialisms, whether among finds types or by broader divisions between “structural archaeologists,” “finds archaeologists” or “environmental archaeologists,” Cool has shown the emerging maturity of the discipline of Romano-British archaeology, and achieved a means of understanding the past, irrespective of theoretical position.

Bioarchaeological and Scientific Evidence In seeking a holistic understanding of a single site, a type of site, or a whole province, all archaeologists are constrained by the fact that much crucial data is lost; the archaeological jigsaw is always incomplete. Bioarchaeological evidence, often termed “environmental evidence” in Britain (a catch-all term including plant and invertebrate remains, animal bone, and often human remains) is one area where that loss is often sorely felt. Dryland archaeological sites preserve a very limited suite of environmental material, often little more than charred grain, and acidic soils can mean that bone of all types can be lost; such issues are faced by all excavators wherever, or on whatever period, they work. Those of us working on the Roman period in Britain, however, are fortunate to have a number of sites where preservation is exceptional, perhaps most notably Vindolanda, famed for its writing tablets (Bowman and Thomas 1983, 1994, 2003), and areas within urban sites such as London, York, and Carlisle where the depth of deposits, in combination with waterlogging, provides caches of material rarely seen elsewhere. “Environmental archaeology” in Britain developed in the 1970s, although animal and human bone had been studied at some sites prior to that time, and analysis of soils and plant remains was entering archaeological literature by the 1960s. Though prehistorians rapidly saw the value of such techniques, Romano-British archaeology was relatively slow to adopt them, possibly due to the data-rich nature of much Romano-British archaeology, which already had massive, indeed in some cases overwhelming, finds assemblages to grapple with. From this slow start, current archaeological projects routinely sieve deposits, sample for environmental material, and analyze plant remains and animal bone assemblages. The knowledge gains have been immense. For example, it is now possible to speculate that woodlands in the West Midlands region (Herefordshire, Staffordshire, Shropshire, Warwickshire, Worcestershire, and the former West Midlands Metropolitan County) may have been expanded, managed as a resource, and exported to timber-poor areas in the Roman period (Esmonde-Cleary 2011, 131). Similarly, geochemical research in the southwest of England has led to a better understanding of the extent, chronology, and impact of Roman-period iron extraction and working on Exmoor, with research at “Roman Lode” (Burcombe) and North Twitchen Springs demonstrating the existence of an extensive industry (Straker et al. 2008). Such analyses not only fill out our picture of the Roman period but allow us to examine previously “invisible” industries that would have been crucial to a society dependent on wood for building, toolmaking, fuel, and other necessities of life. An enhanced understanding of bioarcheological data is also illuminating the production, trade, and supply of agricultural products both to urban populations and the army (Stallibrass and Thomas 2008). It is perhaps in the field of human skeletal analysis that the most interesting developments in bioarcheological understanding are being seen, in particular through the application of isotope analysis of bones and teeth. Oxygen and strontium isotope analysis can distinguish between people of local origin and migrants, while carbon- and nitrogen-stable isotope

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analysis has been used to examine diet. Both are used to examine the importance of traditional diets and “nutrition transition” in immigrant communities, allowing researchers to demonstrate empirically what has long been believed or suspected from literary sources, personal names, and inscriptions: that Roman Britain was a multiethnic society. Conversely, it has allowed some accepted interpretations to be challenged: certain funerary rites employed at the late Roman cemetery site at Lankhills, Winchester, were previously taken to indicate incomers from the middle or upper Danube, but isotope analysis from more recent excavations suggests that, whilst 25% of those sampled were incomers, some possibly from the Danube area, there was no clear link between the isotopic signature and the particular burial rite and grave goods (Booth et al. 2010). This suggests that in many cases burial practice was dictated by factors other than ethnicity, such as kinship, marriage, or cultural and political preferences, a conclusion with implications far beyond Winchester.

Religion Religious belief and ritual formed a key element of everyday life for most of the people of the Roman Empire, and the population of Britannia were no different. Although aspects of the religious landscape, such as Romano-Celtic temples, are well-known, it is increasingly being realized that the recognition of some ritual spaces, such as any Roman period successor to the late Iron Age ritual site at Hallaton in Leicestershire (Score 2014), is difficult at best. That said, our understanding of aspects of Roman period religion is developing with, in the north, the discovery of a Temple to Jupiter Dolichenus within the fort at Vindolanda and the recognition that a temple in the vicus at Maryport, previously investigated by antiquarians, was classical in form, adding significantly to the corpus of religious buildings.

The End of Britannia For the purposes of this chapter, it has been necessary to stray beyond the chronological core of the volume (44 bce–337 ce), a liberty that I must now take again. Recent work has led to major changes to how the end of Roman rule of Britannia is viewed, especially the (admittedly disputed) claim that the “Rescript of Honorius,” in which the Emperor told the British cities to look to their own defense, was in fact directed to Bruttium in southern Italy, as Zosimus (6.10.2) recorded in the context of Alaric and the Goths in Italy. In any case, it is clear that after Constantine III’s bid for the purple in 408–411 ce, Britain was effectively no longer part of the Roman Empire. What that meant is far from certain, but there is increasing evidence for continued occupation on many sites beyond 400 ce, inducing questions about the nature of this society where simple labels such as “squatters,” beloved of earlier excavators, will no longer suffice. More possible Christian churches are being found within northern fort sites such as Vindolanda, to add to those known from towns, but to date there is no evidence for episcopal centers acting as political foci, as they did in Gaul, for example. Instead, the post-Roman pattern was one of localized centers of power: in the north of England, these often focused on Roman forts, such as Birdoswald in Cumbria, but long occupation on other sites, such as Binchester, suggests that they were on a similar model. In the south and east of England, away from the Saxon Shore, forts were not part of the fourth-century landscape; the localized centers of power had been the towns, many equipped with defenses; still, such defenses demanded a substantial number of people to man them, and it is unclear what sort of society and economy existed to sustain them.



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In examining the Diocletianic province Britannia Prima (Wales and the west of England), White (2007) considered such issues over a longer duration than is relevant for the south and east, and probably for northeastern England, given the expansion of Anglo-Saxon power there through the fifth and into the sixth century; still, elements of his model may be relevant. He saw the development of a society based on local centers in villas and reoccupied hillforts in the eastern part of his study area, the Welsh Marches. Thus the “squatter occupation” at villas, so often dismissed by excavators, may in fact demonstrate continuity of use, especially considering the lack of evidence for any settlement dislocation that would create such refugees or “squatters.” In the east and south of England, where villas were abundant, but hillforts were less common, towns or enclaves within former urban sites might stand in for the occupation in hillforts in White’s model. If the reader wonders why the end of Roman Britain seems so opaque, the reasons are manifold, and many are explored by Haarer (2014). They include a lack of datable material over much of the country after regular supplies of new coinage ceased to arrive (after ca. 402 ce at the latest), and a general lack of pottery types dating after the late fourth century. Occasional finds of later high value coins in the south and east attest to some continuing contacts with the Roman world, but the scale is small and the supply irregular, so trade appears to have been largely stifled. In the west, however, there is more (though still small scale) evidence (e.g., Byzantine amphorae) for contacts that extended through Gaul into the Mediterranean. Whether or not the Rescript of Honorius represented the imperial government cutting ties with Britain, it seems that the Roman period ended not with a bang of bloody conquest (although no doubt there was warfare) but a fading away, as different parts of the country succumbed to new rulers and the character of post-Roman society gradually changed.

Changing Thinking, Continuing Discourse The discussion in this chapter of new data and changing interpretations is highly selective and only addresses some topics, such as Roman-period industry, very briefly. It also has something of a northern bias, reflecting the interests of the author, but it demonstrates that the archaeology of Roman Britain is a vibrant topic in which exciting discoveries, new ideas, and changes in approach are all a regular part of academic exchange. This last section will put those developments into context; it is not intended as a statement of a particular theoretical position, but an introduction to current thinking as promoted by two key works. From the early twentieth century, discussions of Roman Britain were dominated by the term “Romanization,” a concept now viewed as deriving, at least in part, from then-current attitudes about Britain’s position as an imperial power, and intellectual processes that equated the British and Roman Empires. “Things Roman” were seen as culturally and technologically superior, something for “native Britons,” whatever their status, to aspire to. Even as the British Empire declined, discourse on Roman Britain was still largely couched in the binary opposites referred to at the beginning of this essay, particularly those of “Roman” and “native.” More nuanced views of interaction developed, but almost without exception, Romanization held center stage. A turning point came with Millett’s innovative volume (1990), which reassessed Romanization as a social process by using all available (including historical) data, but making the massive archaeological data set the core of the study, instead of using the literary sources as a framework into which selected archaeological data could be placed. Millett’s volume was immensely influential, and its impact can be seen in the research priorities that flowed from a meeting that brought together university-based academics, local authority curators, and commercial archaeologists (James and Millett 2001).

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Meanwhile parallel approaches and concepts such as “creolization,” “gallicization,” and “globalization” were being proposed by scholars claiming a post-colonial perspective. They rejected what they saw as the implicit continuation of the “Roman is better” concept embedded in the term “Romanization,” no matter how it was deconstructed and analyzed. I have recently challenged this dismissal of Romanization as a term (Wilson 2015c), seeing it as both accessible and useful, but only if it is clear what the writer intends by it. Out of the multitude of post-colonial voices, Mattingly has been particularly influential, especially one work that explicitly sought to be controversial and “dispense with a series of sacred cows – most notably, the intellectually lazy recourse to the concept of Romanization (which ultimately means everything and nothing)” (Mattingly 2006, xii). In his search to see Roman Britain differently, Mattingly ranged widely, deliberately (and correctly) including areas of the country where the archetypes of civilized “Roman” life, villas and towns, are rare or absent. He also ventured into what he termed Free Britannia, defining Britain as the British Isles, including not just northern and western Scotland but Ireland, all too often disregarded once Agricola’s assertion (Tacitus, Agricola 1.24) that it could be conquered and held by one legion and a few auxiliaries has been mentioned. Central to Mattingly’s narrative was “discrepant experiences,” a logical and persuasive concept derived from the diversity of the countryside of Roman Britain. Despite his defining only three broad groups – military, urban, and rural communities – to cover the whole of society, what underpinned his model was that complexity and diversity could express themselves in many ways at a regional and probably also local level, through differences in social status, economic power, and political outlook. Mattingly (2006, 522) also proposed two broadly defined products of the post-conquest land settlement: “landscapes of resistance” and “landscapes of opportunity.” These two extremes on a spectrum, with a myriad of possibilities between, resulted from the tribe or region’s continuing and developing dialogue with the Roman presence. This changing interaction and negotiation that shows the impact of the Roman presence may be discernible in the archaeological record, but according to Mattingly, even in apparent “landscapes of opportunity,” such as the Gloucestershire Cotswolds, with some of the richest villas of later Roman Britain, there is little evidence of “opportunity” in the first and second centuries. Mattingly attributed this to excessive extractions by the Roman state and others, a reasonable proposal for areas of mineral deposits or those areas punished for supporting Boudica in 61 ce. Since then, Millett has proposed a third landscape type: “landscapes of mutual indifference” (Millett 2012, 774). The lack of early, or in some areas any, evidence for opportunities being exploited may reflect such a nonreaction to the Roman presence, once taxes were paid or other requirements met: in effect, “life goes on.” Another publication from the same year as Mattingly’s, by John Creighton (2006), has done much to set the agenda for study of the early Roman period, at least in southern England. While both Julius Caesar’s expeditions of 55 and 54 bce and Claudius’s invasion of 43 ce are of course well known, little attention has previously been paid to the period between them. Creighton saw a much closer relationship among some members of the British royal houses and Rome at this time, certainly more than Rome hosting a few exiles who provided Claudius with a pretext to invade. The early evidence from Silchester (see above) supports a model of strong links, whether through British hostages (obsides) being fostered in Rome or British nobles serving in the Roman auxilia, as could be suggested by the Hallaton (Leicestershire) Roman helmet (Score 2014, 61–66). Roman-style granaries or storage buildings appear at Gorhambury (Hertfordshire) and Fishbourne (Sussex) in the preconquest period, perhaps as early as the Augustan period in the case of Fishbourne. Such close engagement with the Roman world would be in keeping with Roman practice, including the cultivation of “friendly kings,” elsewhere in the empire.



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Such recent changes to the accepted narrative of early Roman Britain demonstrate how vibrant the archaeology of Britannia is today. New and enhanced techniques, new theoretical frameworks, and the serendipity of discovery all contribute to new paradigms, while the cozy certainties of a much-studied province are being questioned or replaced by a range of voices and a multiplicity of views, making Roman Britain an exciting place to be! (This article was submitted in 2016.)

Biographical Note Pete Wilson, PhD, FSA, FSA Scot, MCIfA, has worked on Roman Britain for over forty years. He started in public sector archaeology in 1981 and was Head of Research Policy (Roman Archaeology) for English Heritage from 2005-2012. He is now an Archaeological Consultant. His research interests focus on the Roman North of England. He is currently Chair of Trustees at the Senhouse Roman Museum, Maryport, and a Trustee for the Vindolanda Trust and Malton Museum.

REFERENCES Allason-Jones, Lindsay, ed. 2011. Artefacts in Roman Britain: Their Purpose and Use. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Archaeology Data Service. 2016a. “Aggregates Levy Sustainability Fund.” Accessed November 10. http://archaeologydataservice.ac.uk/archives/view/alsf Archaeology Data Service. 2016b. “The Rural Settlement of Roman Britain: An Online Resource”. Accessed November 10. http://archaeologydataservice.ac.uk/archives/view/romangl Association of Local Government Archaeology Officers. 2016. “Regional Research Frameworks.” Accessed November 10. http://www.algao.org.uk/england/research_frameworks Barker, Philip, Roger White, Kate Pretty, Heather Bird, and Mike Corbishley. 1997. The Baths Basilica Wroxeter. Excavations 1966-90. London: English Heritage. Booth, Paul, Andrew Simmonds, Angela Boyle, Sharon Clough, H. E. M. Cool, and Daniel Poore. 2010. The Late Roman Cemetery at Lankhills, Winchester. Excavations 2000-2005. Oxford Archaeology Monograph 10. Oxford: Oxford Archaeology. Bowman, Alan K., and J. David Thomas. 1983. Vindolanda: The Latin writing-tablets. Britannia monograph 4. London: Society for the promotion of Roman Studies. Bowman, Alan K., and J. David Thomas. 1994. The Vindolanda Writing Tablets: Tabulae Vindolandenses II. London: British Museum Press. Bowman, Alan, and J. David Thomas. 2003. The Vindolanda Writing Tablets: Tabulae Vindolandenses III. London: British Museum Press. Breeze, David J., ed. 2014. The Impact of Rome on the British Countryside: A Conference Organised by the Royal Archaeological Institute, Chester, 11-13 October 2013. Wetherby: Royal Archaeological Institute. Brindle, Tom. 2014. The Portable Antiquities Scheme and Roman Britain. British Museum Research Publication 196. London: British Museum. Brown, Fraser, Christine Howard-Davis, Mark Brennand, Angela Boyle, Thomas Evans, Sonia O’Connor, Anthony Spence, Richard Heawood, and Alan Lupton. 2007. The Archaeology of the A1 (M) Darrington to Dishforth DBFO Road Scheme. Lancaster Imprints 12. Lancaster: Oxford Archaeology North. Carr, Gilly C. 2007. “Creolising the Body in Early Roman Britain.” In Roman Finds: Context and Theory, edited by Richard Hingley and Steven Willis, 106–115. Oxford: Oxbow Books.

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Cook, Murray, and Lindsay Dunbar. 2008. Rituals, Roundhouse and Romans. Excavations at Kintore, Aberdeenshire 2000–2006. Vol. I. Forest Road. Edinburgh: Scottish Trust for Archae­ological Research. Cool, Hilary E. M. 2006. Eating and Drinking in Roman Britain. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Cool, Hilary E. M., and David J. P. Mason, eds. 2008. Roman Piercebridge. Excavations by D.W. Harding and Peter Scott 1969-1981. Research Report 7. Durham: Architectural and Archaeological Society of Durham and Northumberland. Creighton, John. 2006. Britannia. The Creation of a Roman Province. London: Routledge. Crossrail. 2016. “Roman Londinium.” Accessed November 20. http://www.crossrail.co.uk/ sustainability/archaeology/archaeology-exhibition-portals-to-the-past/februar y-2014/ roman-londinium Crummy, Nina. 1983. The Roman Small Finds from Excavations in Colchester, 1971-9. Colchester Archaeological Report 2. Colchester: Colchester Archaeological Trust. Davies, Jeffrey L., and Rebecca H. Jones. 2006. Roman Camps in Wales and the Marches. Cardiff: University of Wales Press. Dore, John N. 2010. Haltonchesters: Excavations directed by J.P. Gillam at the Roman fort, 1960-61. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Eckardt, Hella. 2010. “A Long Way from Home: Diaspora Communities in Roman Britain.” In Roman Diasporas: Archaeological Approaches to Mobility and Diversity in the Roman Empire, edited by Hella Eckardt, Journal of Roman Archaeology Supplementary Series 78, 99–130. Portsmouth, RI: Journal of Roman Archaeology. Ellis, Peter, ed. 2000. The Roman Baths and Macellum at Wroxeter. Excavations by Graham Webster 1955-85. London: English Heritage. Esmonde-Cleary, Simon. 2011. “The Romano-British Period: An Assessment.” In The Archaeology of the West Midlands. A Framework for Research, edited by Sarah Watt, 127–147. Oxford: Oxbow Books (for the University of Birmingham). Ferris, Iain M. 2010. The Beautiful Rooms are Empty: Excavations at Binchester Roman Fort, County Durham 1976-1981 and 1986-1991. Durham: Durham County Council. Fulford, Michael, and Neil Holbrook. 2011. “Assessing the Contribution of Commercial Archaeology to the Study of the Roman Period in England, 1990-2004.” Antiquaries Journal, 91: 323–345. Fulford, Michael, and Neil Holbrook. 2014. “Developer Archaeology and the Romano-British Countryside: A Revolution in Understanding.” In The Impact of Rome on the Countryside: A Conference Organised by the Royal Archaeological Institute, Chester, 11-13 October 2013, edited by David J. Breeze, 38–44. Wetherby: Royal Archaeological Institute. Fulford, Michael, and Neil Holbrook, eds. 2015. The Towns of Roman Britain: The Contribution of Commercial Archaeology Since 1990. Britannia monograph 27. London: Society for the Promotion of Roman Studies. Gaffney, Vincent L., Roger H. White, and Helen Goodchild. 2007. Wroxeter, the Cornovii, and the Urban Process. Final Report on the Wroxeter Hinterlands Project 1994-1997. Vol. 1: Researching the Hinterland. Journal of Roman Archaeology Supplementary Series 68. Portsmouth, RI: Journal of Roman Archaeology. Haarer, Fiona K., ed. 2014. AD 410: The History and Archaeology of Late and Post-Roman Britain. London: Society for the Promotion of Roman Studies. Halkon, Peter, and Martin Millett, eds. 1999. Rural Settlement and Industry: Studies in the Iron Age and Roman Archaeology of lowland East Yorkshire. Yorkshire Archaeological Report 4. Leeds: Yorkshire Archaeological Society. Halkon, Peter, Martin Millett, and Helen Woodhouse, eds. 2014. Hayton, East Yorkshire: Archaeological Studies of the Iron Age and Roman Landscapes. Yorkshire Archaeological Report 7. Leeds: Yorkshire Archaeological Society. Hanson, William S. 2007. Elginhaugh: A Flavian Fort and its Annexe. Britannia Monograph Series 23. London: Society for the Promotion of Roman Studies. Heritage Lottery Fund. 2016. “Home Page.” Accessed November 10. http://www.hlf.org.uk/Pages/ Home.aspx



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Hingley, Richard, and Steven Willis, eds. 2007. Roman Finds: Context and Theory. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Historic England. 2016. “Roman Research Strategy.” Accessed November 10. https://historicengland. org.uk/research/approaches/research-principles/research-strategies/romanstrategy Hodgson, Nick, Jonathan McKelvey, and Warren Muncaster. 2012. The Iron Age on the Northumberland Coastal Plain. Excavations in Advance of Development 2002-2010. Archaeological monograph 3. Newcastle upon Tyne: Tyne and Wear Archives and Museums. James, Simon, and Martin Millett, eds. 2001. Britons and Romans: Advancing an Archaeological Agenda. CBA Research Report 125. York: Council for British Archaeology. Jones, Rebecca H. 2011. Roman Camps in Scotland. Edinburgh: Society of Antiquaries of Scotland. Mattingly, David. 2006. An Imperial Possession: Britain in the Roman Empire. London: Penguin. Millett, Martin. 1990. The Romanization of Britain. An Essay in Archaeological Interpretation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Millett, Martin, ed. 2006. Shiptonthorpe, East Yorkshire: Archaeological Studies of a Romano-British Settlement. Yorkshire Archaeological Report 5. Leeds: Yorkshire Archaeological Society. Millett, Martin. 2012. “Perceptions of the Imperial Landscape.” Journal of Roman Archaeology, 25: 772–775. Perrin, Rob. 2011. A Research Strategy and Updated Agenda for the Study of Roman Pottery in Britain. Study group for Roman pottery occasional paper 1. Accessed 22 August 2023. https://sgrpwordpress-offload.s3.eu-west-2.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/06/16183209/ SGRP_Strategy.pdf Perring, Dominic, and Martin Pitts. 2013. Alien Cities: Consumption and the Origins of Urbanism in Roman Britain. Portslade: SpoilHeap Publications. Portable Antiquities Scheme. 2016. “Home Page.” Accessed November 10. http://finds.org.uk Proctor, Jennifer. 2012. Faverdale, Darlington. Excavations at a Major Settlement in the Northern Frontier Zone of Roman Britain. Pre-Construct Archaeology Monograph 15. London: Pre-Construct Archaeology. Research Framework for the Archaeology of Wales. 2016. “Home Page.” Accessed November 10. http:// www.archaeoleg.org.uk Rippon, Steven, Chris Smart, and Ben Pears. 2015. Fields of Britannia. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Roman Finds Group. 2014. “Home Page.” Accessed August 23. http://www.romanfinds.org.uk Rushworth, Alan. 2009. Housesteads Roman Fort - The Grandest Station. Excavation and Survey at Housesteads, 1954-95. Swindon: English Heritage. Score, Vicki. 2014. Hoards, Hounds and Helmets. A Conquest-period Ritual Site at Hallaton, Leicestershire. Leicester Archaeology monograph 21. Leicester: University of Leicester Archaeological Services. Scottish Archaeological Research Framework. 2016. “Scottish Archaeological Research Framework Website.” Accessed November 10. http://www.scottishheritagehub.com Stallibrass, Sue, and Richard Thomas, eds. 2008. Feeding the Roman Army: The Archaeology of Production and Supply in NW Europe. Oxford: Oxbow. Straker, Vanessa, Anthony Brown, Ralph Fyfe, and Julie Jones. 2008. “Romano-British Environmental Background.” In The Archaeology of South West England. Resource Assessment and Research Agenda, edited by Chris J. Webster, 145–150. Taunton: Somerset County Council. Taylor, Jeremy 2007. An Atlas of Roman Rural Settlement in England. Council for British Archaeology Research Report 151. York: Council for British Archaeology. Theoretical Roman Archaeology Conference. 2016. “Home Page.” Accessed November 10. http:// trac.org.uk Todd, Malcolm, ed. 2004. A Companion to Roman Britain. Oxford: Blackwell. University of Oxford, School of Archaeology. 2016. “Landscape and Identities: The Case of the English Landscape 1500 BC to AD 1086.” Accessed November 10. http://www.arch.ox.ac.uk/ englishlandscapes-introduction.html

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University of Reading, Archaeology. 2016. “The Rural Settlement of Roman Britain.” Accessed November 10. http://www.reading.ac.uk/archaeology/research/Roman-rural-settlement/archmfsettlement.aspx Walton, Philippa. 2008. “The Finds from the River.” In Roman Piercebridge. Excavations by D.W. Harding and Peter Scott 1969-1981, edited by Hilary E. M. Cool and David J. P. Mason, Research Report 7, 286–293. Durham: Architectural and Archaeological Society of Durham and Northumberland. Webster, Graham (ed. John Chadderton). 2002. The Legionary Fortress at Wroxeter. Excavations by Graham Webster, 1955–85. London: English Heritage. White, Roger. 2007. Britannia Prima: Britain’s last Roman province. Stroud: Tempus. White, Roger H., C. Gaffney, and Vince L. Gaffney. 2013. Wroxeter, The Cornovii, and the Urban Process. Final Report on the Wroxeter Hinterlands Project 1994-1997. Vol. 2: Characterizing the City. Oxford: Archaeopress. Willis, Steven, and Peter Carne. eds. 2013. A Roman Villa at the Edge of Empire. Excavations at Ingleby Barwick, Stockton-on-Tees, 2003-04. Research Report 170. York: Council for British Archaeology. Willis, Steven, and Richard Hingley. 2007. “Roman Finds: Context and Theory.” In Roman Finds: Context and Theory, edited by Richard Hingley and Steven Willis, 2–17. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Wilson, Pete. 2009. The Roman Expansion into Yorkshire Reconsidered.” In Limes XX. XX Congresso Internacional de Estudios sobre la frontera Romana, León, España, septiembre, 2006, edited by Ángel Morillo, Norbert Hamel and Esperanza Martín, Anejos de Gladius 13, 103–111. Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas; Instituto Histórico Hoffmeyer. Wilson, Pete. 2015a. “Living in the Shadow of the Roman Army: Aspects of Civilian Settlement in Northern England.” In Understanding Roman Frontiers. A Celebration for Professor Bill Hanson, edited by David John Breeze, Rebecca H. Jones, and Ioana Adian Oltean, 273–285. Edinburgh: Birlinn. Wilson, Pete. 2015b. “Metal Detectors: Friends or Foes?” In Rescue Archaeology: Foundations for the Future, edited by Paul Everill and Pamela Irving, 159–172. Hertford: Rescue. Wilson, Pete. 2015c. “Romano-British Archaeology in the Early Twenty-First Century.” In The Oxford Handbook of Roman Britain, edited by Martin Millett, Louise Revell, and Alison Moore, 43–62. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Names and Places

Note: page numbers in italics refer to figures; those in bold to tables. Abruzzo 212–214 Achaea 373–392 cemeteries and sepulchral monuments  391–392 coinage 56 domestic buildings  390–391 games and spectacles, buildings for  385–387, 386 landscape organization  374–375, 374–380 maps  374–375, 377, 380, 386 material conditions of life  383–392 overview 373–374 public buildings and spaces  384–385 regional site hierarchies  374–380, 377 roads 379–380, 380 settlement, dynamics of  380–383 temples and sanctuaries  387–388 water supply  388–390 Acrae 239 Actium  Apollo association with  195 Battle of  16, 56, 91, 301, 348, 353, 355–356, 359, 410, 471, 524, 538, 705, 713, 741, 862 Adrano 239 Aegyptus. see Egypt Aelia Capitolina  662, 668, 670, 678 Aeneas  197, 815 Aenona 307 Africa 757–773 conquest and garrisoning  762–765 economic development  770–772

history 757–759 indigenous people of North Africa  760–762 maps  758, 762–763, 766 material culture  772–773 personal approach to archaeology  760 protohistoric archaeology  760–762 religion 772–773 Roman roads in  41–42 urbanization 765–770, 766, 768 see also Africa Proconsularis; Egypt; North Africa Africa Proconsularis  758–759 auxiliary forts in  132 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  118 mortared construction  170 Agios Titus  405 Agrigento  235, 238, 240, 246, 249–250 Agrippa, Marcus Vipsanius  Buthrotum  358–359, 361–362 Gallia Narbonensis  857, 858 Gaul 834–836 Hispania  805–806, 810, 813, 817 Liburni, defeat of  300 Lyon 42 naval victories  16 Pantheon dedication  202 public bath structure in Rome  198 water supply to Rome  194, 197–198 Aila  700–701, 703, 706 Aislingen 263 Akarnania  346, 348, 350–351, 357

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 2, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

936

Names and Places

Aksaray 532–533 Albinus, Clodius  283 Alburnus Maior  275, 282, 284, 290–291, 292, 313–314 Alchester 913 Aldborough 918 Alexander Severus  288, 339, 823, 896 Alexandria  713, 719, 723–729 coinage  56, 58, 60, 62–63, 65 fleet stationed at  16 layout of  726 legion stationed by Trajan  31 watermill 162 Algeria  auxiliary forts in  132–135 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  118 Alkofen 264 Alps, Roman roads in  41 Althiburos  23 761, 769 Amantia  354, 354–355 Ambrussum 862, 870, 871 Amyntas  494, 496, 498, 500, 503, 505–506 Anatolia, northern. see Bithynia and Pontus (province) Anazarbus  586–588, 591, 593–595, 597, 599–601 Anchialos 436–437 Ancyra  494, 496, 497 Anderitum 842 Andros 410–411 Anemurium 587–588, 590, 593–594, 597, 599, 640 Anthimus 25 Antigonea  348–349, 354 Antinoopolis  713, 725–726, 726, 727 Antioch  coinage  56, 58–62, 59 Pisidian  494, 502–505, 507, 525, 532, 564, 591, 595, 600 Syrian 613–614, 615, 618–620 Antiochus III  468, 476, 523, 697 Antiochus IV Epiphanes  481, 587, 636, 697, 713 Antipas  660, 666–667 Antonine plague  732 Antonine Wall  94, 914 Antoninus Pius  adoption of Lucius Verus  477, 479 Andros agora dedicated to  411 aqueducts in Achaea  389 border fortifications  265 Germania 888 Lycia  539, 553 marble importation from Asia  481 Minturnae theater  213

Pisidia 506–507 Raetia 265 Thrace  421, 422, 427, 431–432, 435 Antony, Mark  Bithynia and Pontus  443 Cappadocia 520 Cilicia 585 defeat at Actium  16, 196, 471, 524, 713 Forum speech  191 naval rams from fleet of  356 Pisidia 500 Apamea 611, 615, 618–621 Aperlae 28 Aphrodisias  470–475, 477, 479–484, 486 Sebasteion  471–473, 472 Apicius 23 Apollinaris, Sidonius  831 Apollonia in Cyrenaica  341, 352, 355, 424, 436 Appian Way  203 Apollonia  745, 749 Apulia 226 Apulum  275, 277–284, 279, 287 Aquileia 216 Arabia 688–706 auxiliary forts in  129 Bostra  692–694, 696–697, 701–703, 705 Gerasa  690, 692–694, 697–699, 698 industries and trade  700–701 introduction 688–690 maps  689, 691 Petra  690, 692–697, 695, 700–702, 704–706 rainfall 691, 691 roads and military sites  701–702 Romanization 705–706 settlement patterns  690–692 shrines and religion  703–705, 704 urban sites  692–699 villages 699–700 water and agriculture  702–703 Archelaos  524–525, 588 Archelaus, Herod  660, 867 Argos  384–390, 392 Arikamedu, India  31 Ariobarzanes I  524 Ariobarzanes II  524 Ariobarzanes III  524 Aristides, Aelius  37 Arles  854, 857–864, 868–869, 872 Arretium (Arezzo)  72–73 terra sigillata from  73, 76, 166–167, 247 Arrian 103–105 Arykanda  539–540, 542, 545–546, 550 Asia 468–486 Çandarli ware  83



Names and Places 937

domestic life  482 early empire  471–475 Eastern Sigillata B (ESB)  76 entertainment 482–483 Ephesus, honors to Trajan and Lucius Verus at 476–479, 478 Hellenistic background  468–470 high empire  475–481 late antiquity  484–486 map  469 marble 479–481 monuments of first century BCE 470–471, 471 religion 483–484 Roman roads in  42 Aspendos  561–565, 567, 567, 570–573, 575–576, 578 Aspiran 81 Astigi  808, 812–814, 819–821 Ateius  167, 172 Athens  374–376, 384–386, 388–392 Attalids  468, 498, 561 Attalos I  498 Attalus III  56, 469 Atticus, Titus Pomponius  Buthrotum estate  357–358, 362, 364 Cicero and  71–73, 234, 357, 524 Atussa 500 Auerberg 260 Augsburg  259–260, 265, 267, 269–270 Augst  835, 883, 890–891, 897–898 Augusta Emerita  790–795 Augusta Praetoria (Aosta)  214, 215, 216 Augusta Taurinorum  214, 223 Augusta Traiana  435 Augustodunum (Autun)  39, 43 Augustus  Achaea 376 Africa  757, 771 army reform  91–92, 99, 719 Asia 472 Bithynia and Pontus  444 Cappadocia 524 Cilicia  587, 601 coinage  56–57, 63 Cyclades 411 Cyprus 636 Dalmatia  301, 305–307 division of Gaul  831, 832, 834 Egypt  713, 723 Epirus  348, 351, 353–354, 356–361 Gallia Narbonensis  855–856, 858–860, 867 Germania 883–884 Hispania  786, 804–807, 810–815, 817, 818 Lusitania 789–790

Lyon 835–837 Mausoleum, Rome  194 road development  38–39, 41 Sicilian settlements  234–235 sumptuary law  87 transformation of Rome  191, 193–197, 200–203 water supply to Rome  194 see also Octavian Aurelian  circuit wall construction in Rome  204 coinage 62, 62, 848 Gaul 847–848 Austria  auxiliary forts in  124–125 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  116, 117 Autun  39, 43 Avenches  883, 889–891, 894, 896–897, 899 Baelo Claudia  818 Baetica. see Hispania Citerior and Hispania Baetica Balbus, Cornelius  194 Barbegal 162 Barcino  807–810, 812, 814, 817, 823 Bar Kochba  662, 666, 677–678 Basilicata 216–220 Bassus, L. Flavius Silva  209 Bassus, Quadratus  280 Baths of Caracalla  159, 168 Berenice 750–751 Berenike, Egypt  30, 81, 700, 717–718, 726–729, 730 Bessa 216 Betar 677–678 Binchester 914–915, 915, 928 Binyanei Ha’umah  676 Bithynia and Pontus (province)  58, 443–462 architecture, civic  459–462 Bithynia 455, 456, 457 city walls  459–460 coast 446 early sources and scholarship  445 ecology and climate  447 geography 446–447 inland cities  458–459 intellectuals and society  450–451 introduction 443–444 map  444 mountains 446–447 natural resources  448–449 Pontic coast  457–458 pre-Roman settlement  449 provincial organization  450

938

Names and Places

religious installations  461–462 rivers and deltas  447 roads 451–452, 452 Roman conquest  449–450 sanctuaries, extra-urban  452–453 settlement pattern case study  453–455 Sinop Region  453–455 social context  449 state of research  445–446 theaters and stadia  460 urbanism 455–459 water infrastructure  460–461 Blackfriars 20 Boğazköy-Ḫattuša 499–4 Bonna (legionary camp)  99–101 Bostra  692–694, 696–697, 701–703, 705 Boulogne 16 Boutae 41 Bregenz 259 Brindisi 76 Britannia 911–931 army 913–916 artifacts 926–927 auxiliary forts in  141–146 bioarchaeological and scientific evidence  927–928 countryside 921–926 end of Roman rule  928–929 introduction 911–913 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  119 map  912 religion 928 road network  41 towns 916–921 Brougham 915–916 Brutus 538 Bulgaria  auxiliary forts in  124–125 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  117 Bulla Regia  170 Burghöfe 263 Burginatium 105–106 Burladingen 263 Burnum  308, 320–304 Buthrotum (Butrint)  347, 347, 349, 351, 353–354, 354, 355–365, 357–358, 358, 360, 360–361 see also Buthrotum Byllis 352–354 Byzantium  421, 424, 426 Caddeddi  244, 251 Caesar, Gaius  472, 477, 481, 540, 550, 553, 813

Caesar, Julius  Achaea 376 Africa  757, 771 Britannia 930 burial at Campus Martius  194 Cappadocia 520 Cyprus 636 Epirus  346, 348, 353 Gallia Narbonensis  857 Gaul  831, 833–834 Germania 882–883 Hispania  783, 810, 812, 815 Illyricum 301 invasion of Britain  30 Caesar Augusta  811–814, 822–823 Caesarea (Cappadocia)  521–523, 525–526, 528–529 coinage  58–62, 525 Caesarea (Judaea)  27–28, 30, 170, 662–664, 670–672, 671 Caesarea ad Anazarbum  588 Caistor St. Edmund  918, 919 Calabria 216–220 Caldus, Gaius Coelius  347 Caligula  19, 27–28, 232, 758 Calvisiana 241 Camacchio 20 Campanaio 242 Campania 216–220 Campus Martius, Rome  191, 193, 193–194, 197 Capitoline 197 Cappadocia 520–534 Aksaray 532–533 alliance with Rome  524–525 auxiliary forts in  128 coinage  58, 61 geography 520–522 Hellenistic background  523–525 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  117 Mazaka/Caesarea 528–529 natural resources  527–528 roads  521, 526–527 as Roman province  525–526 Sobesos  533, 533–534 Tyana  529–531, 529–532 Zeyve Höyük  534 Carabollace 242 Caracalla 283 Bithynia and Pontus  451 Cappadocia 531 coinage 62, 62 Dacia  288, 290 Egypt  713, 728



Names and Places 939

Germania 896 Hispania 823 Judaea  662, 676 Parthian campaign  451 public baths (thermae), Rome  198 in Raetia  269 Syria 614 Thrace 433 Carnuntum 284 Caronía 239 Caronía, Marina di  239, 242, 246–247 Carthage  77, 757–759, 761–762, 771, 798, 855 Carthago Nova  809, 813, 813, 817, 822 Cassius 524 Cassius Dio  55, 275, 282 Cyprus 636 Germania 884 Lusitania 786 on Second Jewish Revolt  662, 676–677 Castagna 243 Castra Albana  95–99, 98 Castra Praetoria  92, 95–97, 96, 99, 103, 109 Castra Vetera I  99–102, 100 Castroreale San Biagio  243 Catania  235, 236, 246, 248–249 Cato the Younger  632, 636 Caunus 25, 26 Cave of Letters  677 Celsa  812, 814, 821 Centuripe  235, 239–240 Cercadilla 824 Cervelli, Agostino  746 Châteauneuf-les-Boissons 869, 870 Chemtou 162, 162, 167 Chora 408 Chorazin 666 Chryse 468 Chur 260 Cicero  on Ariobarzanes III  524 Atticus and  71–73, 234, 357, 524 on Buthrotum  353, 362 on Cappadocia  527 Cyprus administration by  636 display of head in Forum  191 on downfall of Corinth and Carthage  14 governor of Cilicia  71, 411, 524 letters to Vatinius  300, 304 on Macedonia  326 on maritime cities  87 rental property  190 on Rhosian ware  71–73 on Sicily  234 tour of Cyclades  411

Cilicia 582–602 baths 589, 590 building materials and techniques  598–599 city growth in second century CE  593–597 connections to eastern provinces  600–601 history 584–585 landscape 582–584 local traditions vs. foreign influence  601–602 map  583 roads 588 scholarship, history of  585–587 Severan dynasty  597 temples 591, 592 theaters  589, 591 urban development before imperial province  587–588 urban development under Flavians  585–593 water supply  588–589 Cilician Gates  520, 523–524, 526–530, 534, 583, 597, 600 Circus Maximus (Rome)  195, 201 Çirisi tepe  453 Cisalpine Gaul  214, 301 Citerior. see Hispania Citerior and Hispania Baetica Claudiopolis 666 Claudius  Africa 758 Britannia 930 Cappadocia 524–525 Cyrenaica 741 harbor construction  199 Hispania  809, 811 lighthouse at Portus  27–28 Lycia 538 pomerium (Rome)  203 Thrace 419 Cleopatra  196, 471, 632, 636, 757 Clodius, Publius  189, 191, 201 Cologne  881, 885, 887, 889–894, 897–899, 901 Colosseum 200–201 Commodus  bellum desertorum 267 Bithynia and Pontus  457 coinage 61 Dacia  282, 284, 291 murder of  823 Raetia 267 Thrace  428, 433 Conimbriga  784, 789–790, 796–797 Constantine  Arch (Rome)  102, 204, 862 Arles  860, 872 Baths (Rome)  860, 872 Constantinople  204, 421, 484, 713

940

Names and Places

Germania 898 Judaea  663, 670 Lusitania 794 Rome building projects  204, 862 Thrace  422, 433 Constantine III  900, 928 Constantinople  capital moved to  195, 201, 204, 632, 713 Council of  531 as economic center  454, 462 foundation of  420, 452, 484 Hippodrome 201 plague deaths  485 public monuments  484–485 Corduba 811–812, 814, 814–815 Corinth  374, 376, 379, 381, 385–391 Cosa 26–27 Cossinius, Lucius  362–364 Crassus 190 Crete 398–415 archaeology of  403–407 Gortyn 404–405 introduction 398–401 Knossos 405–406, 406 landscapes, economies, and communications  401–402 Lissos 407 map  399 rescue excavations  403–404 within the Roman Empire  412–413 surveys 404 underwater investigations  404 Croatia  auxiliary forts in  122–122 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  117 Cuba 243 Cusumano 243 Cyclades 398–415 Andros 410–411 archaeology of  407–412 contacts and networks  411–412 introduction 398–401 landscapes, economies, and communications  401–402 map  399 Melos 408–409, 409 rescue excavations  408 within the Roman Empire  412–413 Santorini 409–410, 410 underwater investigations  408 Cyprus 632–650 ceramics and glass  638–640 domestic architecture  641–643

geography  634, 634–635 globalized island archaeology  648–650 historical perspective  635–636 inscribing practices  647–648 introduction 632 map  634 mosaics 641–642, 642 necropoleis 645–647, 647 political and economic organization  636–637 public architecture  641 research on  632–634 resources 634–635 before Rome  635 sculpture 643–644 settlement patterns  640–641 Cyrenaica 740–753 auxiliary forts in  131–132 cities 747–751 countryside 751–752 economy and trade  746 exploration and scholarship, history of  746–747 fortifications 752–753 geography and environment  744 harbors 745 history 740–742 inscriptions 742 landscape exploitation  744–745 map  741 peoples of  742–743 roads 745–746 water resources  745 Cyrene  741, 743, 746, 748 Czech Republic, legionary bases and vexillation forts in  117 Dacia 273–293 abandonment of trans-Danubian  283 Alburnus Maior  275, 282, 284, 290–291, 292, 313–314 Apulum 275–284, 279, 287–288 auxiliary forts in  126–128 environment 273–277 Gilãu 286, 286, 289–290 gold mines  314 infrastructure, administration, and military strategy 277–283 late Antonine  282 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  117 map  276–277 mid-Antonine 279–282 Porolissum  280–281, 289, 291, 293 resources 274–275



Names and Places 941

Sarmizegetusa 274–279, 279, 281–282, 284–289, 285 under Severans  282–283 under Trajan  278–279 Dalmatia 297–318 army in  302 cemeteries and funerary monuments  308–309 ceramic production  315, 316 Delmatae 300 Diocletian’s Palace, Split  310–312, 311 epigraphic culture  312–313 fora 306 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  117 Liburni 300–301 map  298 military installations  302–304 monuments  302–303, 308–314 physical and political geography  299–300 provincial organization  301–302 public architecture  306–308 public baths  308 research and publication on  297, 299 resources, economy, and trade  314–315, 316 road system  304–305 rural settlements  313 Salona  299, 301–302, 304–310, 310, 312–315, 318 temples  307, 307–308 underwater sites  317 urbanism 305–306 veteran settlements  304 villa 313–314 water systems  308 see also Illyricum Damascus  615, 617–620, 624, 628 Danube River  areas from Augustan to Tiberian times  258 boats 16 military installations  93–94, 260–262 Deiotarus 498 Demetrias  322–323, 327, 336–338, 340 Deultum 436 Didyma  468, 481, 483 Dio, Cassius see Cassius Dio Diocaesarea  662, 666–667, 680 Dio Chrysostom  445, 450–451 Diocletian  Arabia 700 baths in Rome  198, 204 Bithynia and Pontus  462

Cappadocia 526 Cilicia 585 coinage reform  725 Dalmatia  302, 310–312, 318 Egypt 719–720 Epirus 351 Gaul  847, 849 Hispania  806, 824 Judaea 662–663 Syria  610, 614 Diocletianopolis  437, 437–438 Diocletian’s Palace (Split)  310–312, 311 Diodorus Siculus  on Crete  399 on Cyrenaica  744 on Nabataeans  688 salted fish, cost of  448 Diokaisareia  584, 587–588, 591, 594, 597, 599–600 Dion  322, 327–328, 330–340, 332, 343 Dionysius of Halicarnassus  347 Doboj 304 Docimium 167 Dodona  346, 351, 355–356 Dolabella, P. Cornelius  301, 304 Domavia 305 Domitian 887 assassination of  820 Campus Martius projects (Rome)  194 cult statue at Ephesus  460 Dacia 274 edict to limit cultivation of vines  222 imperial forum  197 Palatine palace complex (Rome)  195, 201 Thrace  420–423, 430–433 villa at Castel Gandolfo  97 Döttenbichl  257, 259 Dressel, Heinrich  21 Drusus  Alpine campaigns  257 altar of the Three Gauls  835 Germania 883–884 Lyon 835 Dura Europos  607, 611, 614, 616 Durrueli di Realmonte  243 Düzen Tepe  506 Dyme  36, 376, 381 Ebingen-Lautlingen 263 Egypt 712–733 agriculture 720–724, 721–722, 724 annexation 30 army 719–720

942

Names and Places

auxiliary forts in  129–131 bureaucracy, imperial  719–720 calendar 720, 720 climate 714–717, 716 coinage  56, 58, 60, 724, 724–725 cultural identity  714, 728–730 geography 714–716 introduction 712–714 Italian wine imports  81 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  118 map  715 mines and quarries  718–719 ports 30 pottery production  79–80, 84–85 quarries 167 Red Sea ports and trade routes  717–718 religion 731–732 scientific analysis in archaeology  732 settlements 725–728 taxes  720–721, 723–724 Eining  264–265, 267 Eirenopolis 666 Elagabalus  421, 432–433 Elaiussa Sebaste  524, 584–589, 590, 592, 593, 595, 599–601 England  auxiliary forts in  141–146 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  119 see also Britannia Enna 239 Epfach 264 Ephesus (Ephesos)  58, 60, 468, 470–472, 476–480, 480, 482–484, 486 Epidaurum  305–308, 318 Epirus 346–365 aqueducts 360–362, 361 architecture 364 centuriation 362–363 colonization, Roman  353, 362 countryside 363 ethnicity 350 map  347 Northern Epirus Question  348, 350 overview 346–348 research on  348–350 roads 352–353 Roman imperialism  351 Strabo’s description of  351–352 Euesperides 750–751 Fabianus, Papirius  15 Fayum, Egypt  30 Felicitas Iulia Olisipo see Olisipo Flamininus, Titus Quinctius  348

Forum (Rome)  191, 192, 209 Forum Boarium (Rome)  199 Forum of Augustus (Rome)  195–197, 196, 815 Forum of Caesar (Rome)  195, 196 Forum of Trajan (Rome)  196, 197 France  amphora production  80, 81 auxiliary forts in  136, 138 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  118–119 Roman roads in  38 see also Gaul Friedberg-Rederzhausen 259 Friuli Venzia Giulia  214–216 Galatia 492–500 Ancyra  494, 496, 496 Boğazköy-Ḫattuša 499–500 early history  492, 494 geography 492, 493 Germa 500 maps  493, 495 Pessinus 498–499, 499 Roman Galatia  494 settlement  494, 496–500 Tavium 497–498 Galba, Servius Sulpicius  262 Galerius  333, 342 Galilee 665–667 Gallia Aquitania  831–850, 832 see also Gaul Gallia Belgica  136, 831, 834, 844 Gallia Cisalpina  206 Gallia Lugdunensis  831–850, 832 see also Gaul Gallia Narbonensis  854–873 conquest 855–857 economy 863–865 identity and migration  865–866 infrastructure 861–862 introduction 854–855 in late antiquity  871–872 map  856 religion 866–871 rural landscape  863–865 urban architecture  860–861 urbanism and municipalization  857–860 Gallia Transalpina  853, 855 Gallienus  Ancyra 496 coinage  64, 65, 496, 505, 507 Dacia 283–284 Dalmatia 301 Germania 896–898



Names and Places 943

Pamphylia 577 Raetia 269–270 Gamla 673 Gaul  Augustan reforms  833–838 Cisalpine  214, 301 coin mints  56–57 fourth century, early  849–850 first century  838–843 Gallia Aquitania and Gallia Lugeunensis  831–850 Gallia Belgica  831, 834, 844 Gallia Narbonensis  854–872 Gaulish amphoras  81 introduction 831–833 Italian wine imports  81 Lyon  831, 834–838, 836, 840–842, 844, 847–849 maps  832, 847, 831–850 pottery production  166–167, 171, 172 production and distribution model of agricultural and pottery exports  86 Roman roads in  39, 41–43 secondary agglomerations  837, 842–843, 845 second and early third centuries  844–845 terra sigillatas  75, 76–77, 86–87 third century, late  846–849 urban centers  834–835, 844–845, 848–849 urbanization  834, 838–842 villas and farms  837, 843, 849–850 Gauting  264, 267 Gazirri 243 Genialis 270 Georgia, auxiliary forts in  128 Gerace  241, 244–246, 245, 250 Gerasa  690, 692–694, 697–699, 698 Germania 880–901 communication 880–882 consolidation of Roman presence  886 crafts and industry  893–894 crises in third century  896–898 early contacts with Rome  882 fifth century  900–901 geography 880–882 Germanic raids  896–899 limes, construction of  887–889, 888 map  881 natural resources  894 religion and funerary practices  894–896 revolts and conflict  886–887 Roman expansion  883–886 rural settlement  891–893 third and fourth centuries  898–899

towns, development of  889–890 urban features  890–891 Germania Inferior  880, 881 auxiliary forts in  139–141 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  119 Germania Superior  880, 881, 882, 887, 889, 893, 898 auxiliary forts in  136–139 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  118–119 Germanicus  Asia 472 Cappadocia 525 Germania 886 Germany  auxiliary forts in  120–121, 136–140 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  116, 118–119 see also Germania Giarranauti 242 Gilãu 286, 286, 289–290 Giv’at Ram  676 Glanum  855–861, 866–869, 871 Godavaya, Sri Lanka  31–32 Göggingen 259 Gordian III  554 Gortyn  398, 401–405, 412–413 Gracine 302 Grado 22 Graufesenque: see La Graufesenque Greece  black slip pottery  73 coinage  55, 64 scientific revolution of Hellenistic Greeks  156 Gümzburg 263 Haardorf 260 Hadrian  Africa  758, 763–764, 767, 770 annona network  85 Bithynia and Pontus  459, 461–462 Cappadocia 525 Cilicia  593, 595, 602 coinage  56, 58, 61 Cyrenaica 748 Dacia  279, 287, 291 Egypt  713, 727 Epirus 355 Germania 888–889 Hispania  815, 821 imperial fora (Rome)  196 Judaea  662, 664, 668, 672 Lusitania 790

944

Names and Places

marble importation from Asia  481 Mausoleum (Rome)  194 Pantheon construction  202 Pisidia 507 Thrace  421–422, 427, 430 tours of the provinces  177–178 Hadrianopolis  349, 355, 359, 363–364, 421, 424–425, 428, 741 Hadrian’s Wall  92, 94, 108, 180, 914–915, 924 Halaesa  235, 239 Hallaton  928, 930 Haltern 883–886 Harvester of Mactar  42 Ḥaurān  606, 609, 611, 616–617, 622–624, 627 Hayton 925 Hecataeus 712 Heidenheim 265 Heraclea Pontica  445, 455, 456, 457–459, 461 Herdoniae 217–218, 218–219 Hermogenes 481 Herodes Atticus  339, 383 Herodion  663–664, 673–674, 677 Herodotus  Cappadocia  520, 523, 526 Epirus  346, 350 on intermarriage in Cyrenaica  742 on Nile River  712 Herod the Great  617, 619, 660, 663–664, 668, 670, 673–674, 679–681 Hierapolis, Phrygia  163, 164, 471, 475, 483 Hierapolis Kastabala  587, 595, 597, 599–601 Hieron 234 Hispania Citerior and Hispania Baetica  804–824 agriculture and marine products  807–809 Corduba  814, 814–815 countryside 809–810 Flavian period  819–820 Hadrian 821–822 harbors and trade  809–810 imperial cult  811–812 introduction 804–806 map  805 Marcus Aurelius  822 metals 806 provincial organization  810–812 stone 806–807 Tarraco 815–817, 816 Trajan 820–821 transformations of third century  823–824 urbanization 812–818 Hispania Tarraconensis  auxiliary forts in  136

legionary bases and vexillation forts in  118 see also Hispania Tarraconensis Home-on-Spalding-Moor 925 Homer  346, 411 Hoxha, Enver  348–349 Hungary  auxiliary forts in  121–123 legionary bases and vexillation forts in 116–117 Iader  305–309, 315 Illyricum  274, 297, 299–301, 303–305, 317 Incense Road  700 India  ports 31 Red Sea trade routes  30, 717–718 Indian Ocean maritime trade  29–32 Ingolstadt 261 Iraq  auxiliary forts in  129 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  118 Isar 261 Israel  auxiliary forts in  129 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  118 see also Judaea Issa 305 Italy 206–227 central  212–214, 220–223 field surveys  222–223 fora 209–211, 211 imperial estates  226 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  116 map of Roman  207 northern 214–216, 215, 223–225 rural landscape  220–226 rural settlements  223–226 southern 216–220, 218–219, 225–226 urban landscapes  208–220 villages 227 villas 220–222, 221 Iuvavum 267 Janiculum (Rome)  162 Jerusalem 668–670, 669 Jordan  auxiliary forts in  129 industries and trade in southern  700–701 see also Arabia Jordan River  608–609, 664, 676 Josephus, Flavius  662, 665, 671–673, 675 Jotapata  666, 673 Judaea 660–682



Names and Places 945

auxiliary forts in  129 Caesarea 670–672, 671 current research  682 First Revolt sites  673–675 Galilee 665–667 geography 664 Herod the Great  663–664 historical introduction  660–663 Jerusalem 668–670, 669 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  118 map  661 Masada 673–675, 674 military sites  675–676 religious practice  678–682 roads 664 Second Revolt sites  676–678 Sepphoris 666–667 settlement patterns  665–667 Julia Domna  290, 421, 529–530, 729 Juliopolis 58 Julius Caesar see Caesar, Julius  assassination of  191, 193, 195 burial in Campus Martius  194 gardens of  194 granting of Latin rights  234–235 Roman Forum  191 Justinian  Cappadocia 528–529 Egypt 731 Hippodrome riots  201 Nea Church, Jerusalem  670 Philippopolis aqueducts  432 Justinian plague  732 Juvenal  23, 400–401 Kadyanda 544–546 Kaiseraugst  886, 898–899, 901 Kalkriese  102, 104, 886 Karanis 721, 721, 723, 725, 727, 729, 732 Kassandreia  327, 332, 334 Kelenderis  582, 587, 589, 590, 591, 595 Kempten  259–260, 265, 269 Kenchreai 28 Kestros 591, 592 Khirbet edh-Dharih  699, 704–705 Khirbet et-Tannur  703–704, 704 Kintore 915 Kirchmatting 269 Knossos 401–406, 406, 412–413 Korykos  586–588, 597, 599–600 Kos 81 Kösching  264, 265 Kourion  633, 638–639, 641–645, 646, 648

Krefeld-Gellep 102 Kyaneai  539–548, 550, 552 LaBauve 845 Ladenburg 890–891, 900 Laertes 591, 592, 593, 595 La Graufesenque, France  42, 75, 76–77, 86–87, 166–167, 838, 839, 842, 844, 850 Lamos  584, 588, 591, 592, 600 L’Anse des Laurons  19–20 Laodicea  609–610, 613, 615, 616, 618, 620–621 Laurion 163 Lazio 212–214 Lebanon, rural temples in  624–626, 626 Lemnos 72 Lepcis Magna  767, 771–773 Leptiminus 767, 768, 770 Les Alyscamps  872 Les Barrenc  864 Lete 339 Levanzo 17 naval battle at  17 Libya  auxiliary forts in  131–132 see also Cyrenaica Libya Inferior (Marmarica)  742 Libya Superior (Cyrenaica)  742 Licata 238 Liguria 214–216 Limes Arabicus  93, 690, 692 Lioux  870, 871 Lissos 407 Livy 214 Ljubljanica 40 Locica 267 Lombardia 214–216 London 916–918, 917 Longidienus, Publius  19 Longinus 532 Lorenzberg 259 Lucania 226 Lucian  18, 19, 88 Lucius Verus  477–479 Lucullus  Bithynia and Pontus  444, 449–450, 459 support of Ariobarzanes I  524 Lugdunum  56–57, 59, 836 see also Lyon Lusitania 481–801 Augusta Emerita  790–795, 791–793 economy 798–800 epigraphic evidence  800–801

946

Names and Places

geography 784–788 introduction 781–783 map  782 Olisipo 795–796 political geography  785–786 provincial organization  786–787 roads and bridges  787–788, 788 scholarship on  783–784 town planning  796–798 urbanization 788–798 villas 799–800 Lycia 537–555 administrative buildings  542–543 burial sites and customs  548–550, 549, 551 coinage 553–554 crafts and trade  550–553 gymnasia, baths, and water supply  545–546 harbors and roads  552–553 historical background and geography 537–538 map  537 pottery 554–555 sculpture 553 settlement 539–541 spectacle buildings  544–545 stadia 544–545 temples and sanctuaries  546–548 theaters 544, 545 Lyon  831, 834–838, 836, 840–842, 844, 847–849 Lyrbe  562, 568, 568, 570, 572, 575–576 Lyrboton Kome  572, 574–577 Macedonia 322–343 architecture and built environment  330–342, 331–332 burial grounds  340–341 context within empire  323–326 domestic architecture  338 excavation and survey evidence  322–323 fortifications 339–340 landscape exploitation  328–329 maps  324–325, 331, 335 public and administrative buildings  333–334 public spaces  330–331, 332 regional traits and characteristics  342–343 religious buildings  334–335, 335 resources 328–329 roads and streets  328, 341–342 rural settlements  328 spectacle buildings  336–337 urbanization 326–328 villas and farms  338–339 water-related buildings  337–338

Machaerus 674 Madrague de Giens  19 Maecenas 194 Magdala  666, 678 Magnesia  468, 481 Magydos  562–563, 574, 577–578 Mainz  16–17, 880, 887, 889, 891, 893–894, 897–901 Marche 212–214 Marcianopolis 436 Marcus Aurelius  194 Andros agora dedicated to  411 Dacia  282, 291 Hispania 822 Raetian limes 265 Thrace  433, 434–435 Marina di Avola  243 Marina di Caronía  239, 242, 246–247 Marina di Patti  244 Marmarica  740, 742, 752 Marsala  235, 238, 240, 250–251 Marseilles  28, 855–857, 862, 864–866 Maryport  914, 928 Masada 673–675, 674 Matidia Minor  217 Mauretania  758, 758–759, 772–773 Mauretania Tingitana  758–759, 773, 809, 824 auxiliary forts in  135–136 Mauretania Caesariensis  758–860 auxiliary forts in  133–135 Maxentius 204 Maximian 824 Maximinus Thrax  896 Mazaka/Caesarea 528–529 Mazara 242 Mela, Pomponius  300 Melli/Kocaaliler 506 Melos 408–409, 409, 413–414 Mendes  723, 732 Mérida 790–791, 791, 793 Mesopotamia 610 auxiliary forts in  129 broad-room temple  618 coinage  61, 64 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  118 Messina  235, 237, 248–249 Metellinum  786–787, 795 Minturnae  211, 213 Mirabeau, Marquis de  38 Mirabile 243 Mirobriga Celtici  798 Misenum 16 Mithras 202 Mithridates  351, 444, 449, 468, 470, 538, 635



Names and Places 947

Modestus, Mettius  543, 543, 546 Moesia Inferior  auxiliary forts in  125–126 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  117 Moesia Superior  auxiliary forts in  123–125 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  117 Molise 216–220 Monte Iato  239–240 Monte Testaccio (Rome)  21 Montmaurin 849 Moos-Burgstall 263–264 Morgantina 238–239 Morocco  757–758, 809 auxiliary forts in  135–136 see also Maurentania Tingitana Mursa 42 Mussolini, Benito  18, 198 Muziris, India  31 Myos Hormos  23, 30, 700, 717 Myra  539–540, 544, 545, 546–547, 550, 551, 554 Nag al-Hagar  99 Nages  858, 864, 870, 871 Nantwich 26 Naples  Bay of  23, 25, 78, 170, 225, 247, 663 Neapolis  209, 218–219 ship excavations  28, 29 Napoca  275, 279–282, 288–289 Narona  301, 303–308, 307, 314–315, 318 Nassenfels 264–265 Naukratis  725, 727 Naxus 242 Nea Paphos  635–637, 639–644, 642, 646–648, 650 Neapolis see Naples Negev, industries and trade in  700–701 Nemi 18–19 Neoclaudiopolis  444, 446, 450–451, 461 Nero  coinage  56–57, 58–59, 63, 725 death 262 great fire in Rome  198, 200 harbor construction  199 Hispania 812 proclamation of Greek freedom  351 Thrace 422–423 Netherlands  auxiliary forts in  139–141 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  119 Nicaea  444–446, 448, 455, 456

Nicomedia  444–445, 448, 451–453, 455, 457, 459–462 Nicopolis ad Istrum  433–434 Nicopolis ad Nestum  436 Niederbieber 896 Niger, Pescennius  61, 283, 421 Cappadocia  525, 527 Nijmegen  883–884, 887, 889–890, 893, 898 Nikopolis, Epirus  348–349, 351–353, 356–358, 361–365 Nile River inundation  716, 716–717 Nîmes 854–860, 859, 864, 864, 866–870, 873 Norba Caesarina  786–787, 795 Noricum  257, 262, 264 auxiliary forts in  121 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  116 limes 267 Marcomannic Wars  267 North Africa  African Cook Ware (ACW)  78–79, 84–85 African Red Slip (ARS)  77, 84–85 amphoras  79–80, 82, 84–85 indigenous people of  760–762 see also Africa; Egypt; Cyrenaica; Mauretania; Numidia Novaesium (legionary camp)  99–101 Numantia 782–783 Numidia  41–42, 758, 758, 769, 772 auxiliary forts in  132–133 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  118 Oberaden 883–884 Oberpöring 261 Oberstimm  16–17, 260–263 Ocriculum  213–214, 216 Octavian  Bithynia and Pontus  461 Dalmatia  305, 309 Egypt  713, 719 Illyricum, campaign in  300, 302, 304–305 imperial benefactions in Italy  208 Lusitania 799 reforms in Cisalpina  206 Rome at time of  189, 191 victory at Actium  16 victory over Pompey  16 see also Augustus Octodurus 39 Oiasso 809 Oinoanda  538–539, 543, 545–546 Olba  584, 587, 597, 600 Olisipo  787, 795–796 Oppina 22–23

948

Names and Places

Oracle of Dodona  346, 349, 352 Orange  854, 855, 860–861, 865, 869 Orestes 532 Oricum  348–350, 354 Ostia  28, 198–199, 199 amphora finds  81–82 cargo inspections  85 Gaulish wine imports  81 North African oil  82 Otho, Marcus Salvius  262 Ovid 358 Paestum  209, 216–217, 219 Palaipaphos  632–633, 636, 640, 643, 645, 648 Palatine Hill, Rome  194–195, 201 Palermo  238, 248, 251 Palmyra  607, 609, 611, 614, 615, 616, 616–622 Pamphylia 559–578 architecture and built environment  565–576 burial sites  576–577 economy, trade, and landscape exploration 577–578 fortifications  565, 567 geography 560–561 gymnasia and baths  571–572 history of exploration and research  562 houses 575–576 impact of Rome’s power  561–562 map  560 pre-Hellenistic 559 public and administrative buildings  569–570 public spaces  567–569 regional traits and characteristics  564–565 religious sites  574–575 roads, bridges, and streets  563–564 sites and territories  562 spectacle buildings  570–571 water structures  572–574 Panemoteichos 506–507 Pannonia  barbarian raids  280 connection to Dacia  278 Ljubljanica 40 Marcomannic Wars  267 Mursa 42 see also Illyricum Pannonia Inferior  auxiliary forts in  122–123 barbarian raids  280 connection to Dacia  278 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  117 Pannonia Superior 

auxiliary forts in  121–122 Carnuntum 284 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  116–117 Marcomannic Wars  267 Pantheon, Rome  27, 168, 202 Parthian monument at Ephesus  477–479, 478 Passau 264–265 Patara 538–547, 543, 550, 552–554 Patras  376, 378–379, 381–382, 386, 388–392 Paullus, Lucius Aemilius  351, 357, 362 Pautalia 435–436 Pednelissos 505 Pella  323, 326–328, 330–332 Pergamon  468–470, 472, 476–477, 481–482, 484, 486, 498, 524, 561 Perge 562–567, 566, 569–578 Périgueux 844 Perinthos  419, 421, 424–428 Perseus  323, 340, 342 Pertinax 267 Pessinus 498–499, 499 Petra  690, 692–697, 695, 700–702, 704–706 Petronius  21, 88 Pfaffenhofen 262 Pfatter 264 Pfünz  265, 269 Philadelphia  690, 692–694, 701–703 Philippianus 245–246 Philippoi  322, 326–338, 333, 340–343 Philippopolis  419–424, 428–433, 429–431 Philip the Arab  283, 290, 616 Philosophiana 241 Phoinike  348–349, 351, 355, 357, 363 Piazza Armerina  243–244, 251 Piemonte 214–216 Pisa  shipwrecks 28 sigillata production  73, 167, 247, 639 Pisa-San Rossore  17 Pisidia  early history  500–502 geography 500–501, 501 map  501 mint 65 pottery production  83 Roman Pisidia  503–504 settlement 505–508 Antioch (Pisidia)  494, 502–505, 507, 525, 532, 564, 591, 595, 600 Pliny the Elder  181 Atussa 500 Bithynia and Pontus  448



Names and Places 949

Cappadocia  522, 526, 528 Caunian salt  25 cost of fish  23 Cyrenaica  744, 746 on Dalmatia  300–301, 305 description of Italy  206 Gallia Narbonensis  854, 857–858 gold mining  163–164, 216 Hispania  807, 812 Illyricum peoples  300 Lusitania 784 Lycia 539 Mazaka/Caesarea 528 Nile inundation  716 North African peoples  772 pearls 29–30 plows 161 Sicily  234–235, 237 silphium worth  746 underground granaries  522 wine in wooden barrels  844 Pliny the Younger  Bithynia and Pontus  445, 448, 457, 460–461 Dacia 274 Hispania 819 on villas  227 Plovdiv 432 Poblicius, Lucius  101 Pocking 264 Polybius  15, 103 Pompeii 210–211 Pompeiopolis  443, 446, 448, 450–451, 455, 456, 458, 460–461, 584, 586–587, 593–595, 599–600 Pompey the Great  attacks on pirates  740 Bithynia and Pontus  443–444, 450, 458 Cappadocia 520 Galatia  494, 498 Hispania  783, 807, 810, 814 Issa 305 Judaea 660 Pompey, Sextus  16 support of Ariobarzanes I  524 theater complex construction in Rome  193–194, 457 Pompey, Sextus  16 Pons Aeni  262 Pontus see Bithynia and Pontus Porolissum  280–281, 289, 291, 293 Portus  27–28, 40, 198–200, 199 Postumus 269–270 Potaissa  275, 278, 281–282, 284, 287–289 Procopius 529

Promontory Palace at Caesarea  663–664, 672 Ptolemaios, Claudius  280 Ptolemais  745, 749–750 Ptolemy XII Auletes  713 Puglia 216–220 Punta Secca  242 Puteoli  amphitheater 209 cargo inspections  85 Italian terra sigillata  73 Pyrrhus  217, 348 Qatzion 680 Qumran 680–682, 681 Raetia 257–270, 258 auxiliary forts in  120–121 border fortification under Antoninus Pius 265 civil war after the death of Nero  262 civil wars and Germanic invasions  267–269 first military installations on the Danube and their supply  260–262 under the Flavians  262–264 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  116 Marcomannic Wars  267 militarized zone of Germania Superior and Raetia from late Flavian to Trajanic times 263 militarized zone of Germania Superior and Raetia from Marcus Aurelius to the later third century  268 militarized zone of Germania Superior and Raetia in Antonine times  266 militarized zone of Raetia from late Tiberian to Neronian times  261 period of prosperity under Trajan and Hadrian 264–265 Rome’s arrival, occupation, and provincialization of  257–260 Ramat ha-Nadiv  665 Ravenglass 914 Ravenna  16, 19 Red Sea  Trajan’s canal to Nile River  275 fishing 23 Periplus of the Red Sea 29 ports  178, 717–718 trade routes  30, 717–718 Regensburg  98, 259, 264–265, 267, 269–270 Republican Forum, Rome  191, 192, 195, 815 Rhine River  areas from Augustan to Tiberian times  258 boats 16

950

Names and Places

canals 40 Gauloise 4 pottery  81 military installations  93–94, 99, 102, 105–107, 302 Rhosos 73 Rio Tinto mine  164, 165 Roman Forum  191, 192 Romania  auxiliary forts in  123–128 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  117 Rome (city)  189–204 Campus Martius  191, 193, 193–194 cemeteries 203 gardens 194 imperial fora  195–197, 196 Palatine Hill  194–195 plan (map)  190 port and commerce  198–200, 199 public spectacles  200–201 regions and neighborhoods  201 roads 203 Roman Forum  191, 192, 195, 200 temples and shrines  202 in third and fourth centuries  204 walls and limits  202–203 water  190, 197–198 Romulus  189, 197, 468, 815 Rufina, Junia  359–360, 360 Rujum Taba  700 Saalburg  882, 888 Sagalassos  484, 507–508 Saint-Bertrand-de-Comminges 834–835, 838–841, 848–849 Saint-Chama 862, 862 Saint-Désirat 869, 869 Salamis, Cyprus  632–633, 636–638, 641, 643, 645, 647–648 Sallust 194 Salona  299, 301–302, 304–310, 310, 312–315, 318 Samobriva 41 Samosata 589 Sandalion 506 San Luca  243 Sardis  468, 472, 476, 480–483, 488 Sarmizegetusa  274–279, 275, 279, 281–282, 284–289, 285 Scauri Bay  242–243 Schwabmünchen 262 Sciacca 242 Scotland  auxiliary forts in  141–146

legionary bases and vexillation forts in  119 see also Britannia Scythopolis 664 Sebaste 662–663 Sebasteion at Aphrodisias  473–475, 474 Sebastos  663–664, 670–672, 671, 676 Segesta  235, 239–240 Segobriga  807, 811 Seleucia ad Calycadnum  586–588, 591, 592, 593–594, 601 Seleukeia  562–563, 568, 568, 570, 572, 575–576 Selge 505 Selinus 587, 592, 595, 599–600 Seneca the Elder  14, 822 Seneca the Younger  23, 171–172, 822 Sepphoris  666–667, 679–680 Septimium Apulense  284 Septimius Severus  Africa  763, 771 Bithynia and Pontus  444, 449, 461 Cappadocia  525, 527 Castra Albana  97 Cilicia 597 coinage  61, 63, 507 Dacia  275, 282–284, 288, 293 Egypt  713, 727 Hispania 823 Judaea  662, 676 Marsala 238 military reforms  108, 110 oases in Libyan desert  763 Parthian War  61 Syria  610, 614 Thrace  421, 433 victory over Albinus  288, 844 Serbia  auxiliary forts in  122–26, 128 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  117 Serdica 434 Settefinestre villa  221, 221–222 Severus, Lucius Septimius see Septimius Severus Severus Alexander  288, 339, 823, 896 Shiptonthorpe 925 Sia 506 Sicilia 232–252 agriculture 246–247 agro-towns 241 Augustan settlement  234–236 deurbanization 240 estates 241 farms 243 harbor cities  236–238, 237



Names and Places 951

harbor settlements  241–242 industry 247–248 language 248–249, 249 map  233 material culture  249–251 overview 232–234 rural settlement  240–246 sulphur mines  248 urbanization 236–240 villages 242–243 villas 243–246 Side  561, 561–565, 567, 569–578 Silchester  916, 930 Sillyon  562–563, 565, 570–573, 576 Silva, Flavius  675 Sinope (modern Sinop)  20, 445–461, 456 Slovakia, auxiliary forts in  121 Slovenia, legionary bases and vexillation forts in 116–117 Sobesos  533, 533–534 Sollerholz 264 Soloi  633, 636, 641, 644–645 Solunto  235, 239 Sotiel Coronado mine, Spain  163 Spain  amphora production  80 auxiliary forts in  136 coinage 55 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  118 see also Hispania Citerior and Hispania Baetica; Hispania Tarraconensis Spartacus  200, 374–375, 378, 386–387, 391 Split 310–312, 311 St. Duchard "Les Avrilles," France  162 Steinkirchen 264 Strabo  31, 40, 181 Bithynia and Pontus  445, 447, 449–450, 452, 455, 457–460 Cappadocia  525–526, 528–529 Cilicia 584 Cyprus 644 Cyrenaica 744 Egypt 728 Epirus  351–352, 357 Gaul 834 Sicily 235 Tenos 411 wine in wooden barrels  844 Straubing  264–265, 267, 269 Suessa Aurunca (Sessa)  217 Suetonius 63 Sulla  burial at Campus Martius  194 Cilicia 585

House of Sulla  858 support of Ariobarzanes I  524 victory over Mithridates VI  538 Switzerland  auxiliary forts in  136, 138–139 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  119 Syracuse  232, 234–236, 248, 250, 251 Syria 606–628 auxiliary forts in  128–129 city plans  614–616, 615–616 geography 607–609 introduction 606–607 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  117–118 map  608 political geography  609–614 research and evidence, archaeological 610–611 roads  608, 611–614 spectacle and assembly buildings  620 temples  617–618, 624–626, 626 tombs 621–623 urbanism 614–621 Tacitus  Britannia 911 Cappadocia 525 Cyprus 644 on enslavement by material changes  8 Epirus 351 Germania  884–885, 887–888, 890 Lugdunensis fighters  840 on coinage for Vespasian at Antioch  58 on soldiers  99, 840 Taormina 235, 235, 237, 248–250 Tarraco  806, 809–811, 815–817, 816, 820–822 Tarraconensis  783–784, 786, 788, 798, 804–807, 805–807, 820, 823 see also Hispania Citerior Tarsus  588, 593–595, 596, 597, 599–601 Taucheira 750 Taurus, Statilius  200, 209 Tavium 497–498 Tell es-Samarat  663 Tel Shalem  676 Temple Mount (Jerusalem)  668, 670 Temple of Apollo (Rome)  195 Temple of Apollo Medicus (Rome)  191, 193 Temple of the divine Julius Caesar (Rome)  191 Termessos 503 Termini Imerese  235, 237–238, 248 Termitito 225 Thamugadi 769

952

Names and Places

Thasos  327, 329–336, 332, 340, 342 Theodosius I  421 Thessaloniki  326–327, 330–343, 332 Thessaly  baths 337 cemeteries 340 coinage  56, 64 Demetrias  322–323, 327, 336–338, 340 mosaics 337 as part of Macedonia  323, 374 quarries 330 Thrace 419–438 cities 428–438 ethnicity 424 geography 422 historical background  419–421 language and inscriptions  426–427 map of Roman  420 military sites  438 resources and agriculture  425–426 roads and bridges  422–423 settlement 424–425 study and excavation  423–424 urbanization 427–428 Thugga  39, 42 Thurnham Roman villa  921, 922 Tiberias  664, 666–667, 680 Tiberius  additions to the Palatine complex  195 Alpine campaigns  257 Asia 472 Cappadocia 525 Castra Praetoria (Rome)  96–97 Cilicia 587 coinage 56 Cyclades 411 Cyprus 643 Egypt 724 Epirus 351 Germania  883–884, 886 Hispania 811 Lyon 835 silver and gold mines, control of  86–87 sumptuary law  23, 87 Thrace 428 Tiber River  212 Tieion  446, 455, 456, 457–461 Tilurium  302–304, 308 Tindari  235, 237, 250–251 Titus  cult statue at Ephesus  460 Hispania 820 Nicaea 460 Tlos  539–540, 542, 544–545, 547–548, 553–554

Töging 264 Tongeren  889–890, 897, 901 Torreparedones 818, 818 Toscana 212–214 Trajan  alimentary program  222 Arabia 690 Asia 476–477 Bithynia and Pontus  457, 460–461 building projects  275 Cilicia  595, 602 coinage 60 Dacia  274–275, 277–279, 287, 289 Dalmatia 314 Egypt 719 Epirus  348, 351 Germania  887, 889–890 harbor at Portus  198–199 Hispania  814, 820–821 imperial forum (Rome)  197 Judaea  662, 664 Pantheon construction  202 Portus, harbor at  28 public baths  198, 201 Red Sea  31 Roman mint officials’ names in the time of  54 senatorial estates  226 Thrace  419, 424–425 Trapezus 16 Trentino Alto Adige  214–216 Trieste, amphora at  76 Trimalchio 88 Tripolitana, auxiliary forts in  132 Tunisia  African Red Slip (ARS) pottery  77 auxiliary forts in  132 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  118 Roman roads in  42 terracotta vaulting tubes  171 watermill 162 Turkey  auxiliary forts in  128 ecology and climate  447 fish farming  25 legionary bases and vexillation forts in 117–118 salt pans  25, 26 shipwrecks 20 Tyana  529–531, 529–532 Tymandos 506 Tyre  56, 58–59, 59



Names and Places 953

Udhruh  692, 701–702 Umbria 212–214 Urspring 265 Uthina 39 Vagnari 226 Vaison-la-Romaine  854, 860, 868, 868–869 Val D’Aosta  214–216 Valens 526 Valentinian I  899–900 Valerian  Cappadocia 526 coinage 496 Varro 88 Vatinius  300, 304 Vegetius 301 Veleia 210 Velia 219 Vendicari 242 Veneto 214–216 Verdura 242 Vergil 214 Vespasian 262  Cappadocia 525 Cilicia 601–602 cult statue at Ephesus  460 Cyrenaica 741 Dalmatia 301 Egypt 717 Epirus 351 Galatia 494 Germania 886–887

Hispania  790, 808, 820–821 Judaea 662 Lycia 538 Paestum 209 Pisidia 504 Vesuvius, eruption of  81 Vetera I  99–102, 100 Via Appia  92, 97 Vicus Augustanus Laurentium  227 Vienne  854, 858–861, 868–869, 873 Villa Dionysis  403 Vindolanda  914, 927–928 Vitellius, Aulus  262 Vito Soldano  241 Vitruvius  26–27, 170, 210, 481 Waldgirmes  884–885, 884–886 Wales  auxiliary forts in  141–146 legionary bases and vexillation forts in  119 see also Britannia Water Newton  918 Weichering 261 Weißenburg  265, 269 Wroxeter 918–921 Xanthos  538–540, 542–544, 546–548, 554 Yassiçal tepesi  452–453 Yenikapi, Istanbul  28 Zeyve Höyük  534 Zoilos 470–471, 471

Index

Note: page numbers in italics refer to figures; those in bold to tables. ACW see African Cook Ware administrative buildings  Lycia 542–543 Macedonia 333–334 Pamphylia 569–570 Thrace  427, 430, 433, 434 Africana 1 amphorae  80, 82 African Cook Ware (ACW)  78, 78–79 co-production of ACW and amphorae  84–85 distribution 83–87 African Red Slip (ARS)  75, 77, 84–85, 87, 171 agora  Achaea  384–385, 388–389 Aphrodisias 473 Arabia 694 Athens 384–385 Crete  404, 412–413 Cyclades  402, 404, 409–414, 411 Cyprus 645 Cyrene 748 Ephesus  482, 486 Epirus 357–358 Lycia  540, 542–543, 546–547 Macedonia  323, 330–333, 333, 336, 339, 343 Pamphylia  567–569, 568–570, 573, 575–576 Sicilia  235–236, 239 Syria 618–619 Thrace  427–428, 430–437 see also forum

agriculture  amphora as containers for products  79–80, 82, 84 Arabia 703 Cilicia 584 Cyrenaica 744–745 Egypt 720–724, 721–722, 724 Epirus 363 Gallia Narbonensis  863–864 Gaul 837 Hispania 807–808 Lusitania 799 Lycia  550, 552 Pamphylia 577–578 Sicilia 246 Thrace 425–426 agro-towns, in Sicilia  241 Alpine campaigns, in Raetia  257, 259 ambassadors’ monuments, in Asia  470–471 amphitheater  815–817, 821 Achaea 387 Arabia  693, 697 Bostra 697 Cilicia 597, 598 Corduba 815 Cyprus 641 Cyrenaica 748–750 Dacia  278, 293 Dalmatia  303, 308, 310 Flavian 200 Gallia  835, 840, 843–845, 860

A Companion to the Archaeology of the Roman Empire, Volume 2, First Edition. Edited by Barbara Burrell. © 2024 John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Published 2024 by John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

Gallia Narbonensis  854 Gaul  835, 840, 844–845 Germania 891 Gortyn 405 Hadrian 821 Italy  209, 214, 216–217 Judaea 672 Lepcis Magna  767 Lusitania  790, 794, 797 Lyon 835 Macedonia 336–337 Pamphylia 571 Rome  200–201, 209 Sicilia  235–237, 248 Syria 620 Tarraco  817, 821 Thrace  427, 434, 437, 438 Vetera I  102 amphorae 79–82, 80 Africa  770, 772 Africana 1  80, 82 classification 79–82 as containers for agricultural products  79–80, 82, 84 co-production of African Cook Ware and amphorae 84–85 Cyprus 640 distribution 83 Dressel 2–4  80, 81 as foodways indicator  82 Gallia Narbonensis  864 Gaul  834, 838, 842, 844, 848, 850 Hispania 808 Lusitania 799 maritime trade  21–22, 30–31 Sicilia 246–247 stamps on  21, 25 trade  21–22, 30–31, 80, 171, 172 transport  69, 76 animal/beast hunts  308, 336, 387, 430, 620, 641, 840 annona  42, 85, 172, 200–201, 770–771, 799, 808 aqueduct 197 Achaea 388–389 Arabia 702–703 Bithynia and Pontus  461 Cilicia 588–589 Cyrenaica  745, 750 Dalmatia 308 Epirus 359–362, 361 Gallia Narbonensis  854, 860 Gaul  836, 839, 841, 844 Germania 891

Index 955 Hispania  815, 820 Lusitania 791, 791 Lycia 546 Macedonia 339 Pamphylia 573–574 Thrace  427, 433–435, 434–435 architecture  border fortifications  94–102 Cilicia  587, 589–593, 600–601 Cyprus 641–643 Dalmatia 306 domestic in Achaea  390–391 domestic in Cyprus  641–643 domestic in Egypt  727 domestic in Macedonia  338 domestic in Pamphylia  575–576 Epirus 364 Gallia Narbonensis  859–860 Macedonia 329–342, 332 Marble Style in  479–481 military 94–102 Pamphylia 565–577 sepulchral in Dalmatia  309 Sicilia 249–250 vaults 168–170, 169 ard plow  160, 161 argenteus 63 armor  helmets  103, 103–106 parade 104–106 army  in Britannia  913–916 in Dalmatia  302 in Egypt  719–720 establishment of standing  92 pay in coinage  58, 61 reform under Augustus  91–92, 99, 719 regional patterns of recruitment, deployment, and veteran settlement  179 road development  38, 41 supply for  107 see also military ARS see African Red Slip artifacts, in Britannia  926–927 Augsburg victory altar  896–897 aureus 56, 57, 58–62 auxilia  14, 17 auxiliary forts  94–95 Africa 763 Dalmatia 303–304 first century CE (map)  147 first to third centuries CE (map)  150 locations of  121–146, 147–150 second century CE (map)  148

956 auxiliary troops  91–92 cavalry 105 in Egypt  719 barbarian raids  Cappadocia 525 Dacia  277, 280, 282–283 Gaul 846 Macedonia  323, 327, 340–343 road fortification against  43 Thrace  421, 428, 433 barracks  architecture and décor  101–102, 179 Gilãu 289–290 Masada 675 size  109, 675 Tel Shalem  676 Tilurium 303 workmen’s 725 basilica  Achaea 384–385 Civil Basilica at Knossos  403, 405, 412 Dacia  286–287, 289–290 Dalmatia 306 Epirus 358 Italy 210 Macedonia  330–334, 337, 343 Rome  191, 204 Sicilia 237 Batavian Revolt  101, 886–887, 889 baths  Achaea 389–390 Baths of Caracalla, Rome  159, 168 Britannia  915, 918 building materials  170–172 Cilicia 589, 591 Crete 404–405 Cyrenaica  748–749, 751 Dalmatia 308 Egypt 725–726 Gallia Narbonensis  857–858, 860–861, 869–872 Gaul  841–844, 849 Lycia 545–546 Macedonia 337 Novaesium 101 Pamphylia 571–572 public in Rome  198, 201, 204 Sobesos  533, 533–534 Thessaly 337 Thrace 427 Tyana 530, 530 vaulted ceilings  170 see also thermae

Index benefactors’ monuments, in Asia  470–471 bioarchaeological evidence  927 bodyguard, Germanic  92 bog sacrifices  102 Boscoreale Treasure  76 bouleuterion  Asia 481–482 Lycia 542 Macedonia  333, 336 Pamphylia  568, 570 Pisidia  503, 506 Thrace  427, 430, 433, 434 brass coinage  56–57 brick-and-mortar building, in Macedonia  343 bricks  in fortress exteriors  97 mortared construction  168–170, 169 stamps on  159, 202, 303 brickyards 107 bridges 39 Epirus  359, 361 Gallia Narbonensis  861 Lusitania 787, 788 Lycia 553 Macedonia 341 Pamphylia 564 Thrace 423 bronze coins  51, 53, 56–58, 60–61, 63–65, 64, 666 building materials and techniques see construction bureaucracy, imperial, in Egypt  719–720 burial practice, in Britannia  915, 928 burials  Achaea 391–390 in Campus Martius in Rome  194 Cyprus 645–647, 647 Gaul  842, 844 Lycia 548–550, 549, 550 Macedonia 340–341 Pamphylia 576–577 Rome 203 Syria 621–623 Vagnari 226 see also cemeteries; necropoleis; sarcophagi; tombs caementa 168, 169 caisson 27 calendar, Egyptian  720, 720 camps. see military camps canals  28, 40, 42, 199, 448, 530, 719, 761, 809, 861, 863

Çandarli ware  83 Cantabrian Wars  786, 810, 814–815, 817 cartage technology  41 cavalry, equipment of  103, 103–106 cemeteries  Achaea 391–390 Britannia  915–916, 928 Crete  405, 407 Dalmatia 308–309 Gaul  842, 849 Macedonia 340–341 Pamphylia 576–577 Rome 203 centuriation  Achaea 381 Augusta Emerita  790 Cyrenaica 745 Dacia 278 Dalmatia 305 Epirus 361–364 Gallia Narbonensis  863, 864–865 Gaul 837 Italy  214, 223 Macedonia 327 Tunisia 771 ceramics  Arabia  697, 701 Crete and the Cyclades  402–403 Cyprus 638 Hispania 808 see also pottery chain pump  165, 171 chalkous 64 circus  Africa  767, 769 Anazarbus  595, 597, 601 Corduba 815 Corinth 387 Cyrene 748 Lusitania  794, 798 Rome  195, 200–201 Tarraco  817, 820 cistophori  56, 58, 60–61 citizenship  acquired by military service  92 for Dalmatia inhabitants  313 for manumitted slaves  189–190 for Sicilians  234 city walls  Ancyra 496 Andros 410 Arles 872 Bithynia and Pontus  450, 459–460

Index 957 Caesarea, Cappadocia  528 Cilicia 593 Corduba 815 Cyrenaica 748–751 Dalmatia 306–310 Germania 891 Herdonia  218 Italy  214, 216, 218 Lusitania 796 Melos 398 Nicaea 460 Pamphylia  565, 567 Plovdiv 432 Rome 202–203 Sinope 459 Syria  615, 617–619, 622 see also defensive walls civic centers  Achaea 384–385 Dacia  287, 289 Macedonia 330 Thrace 422 civic coinages  63–65 climate change, in Dacia  275–276 Cloaca Maxima, Rome  190 coastline, of Cyprus  637–638, 638 cohortes urbanae  92, 108 cohortes vigilum 92 coinage 51–65, 55, 57, 59, 164 archaeological finds  53–54 Augustus and the Julio-Claudians  56–57 Buthrotum 359 civic 63–65 in collections  54 debasement 61–62 Egypt  724, 724–725 finds and interpretations  51–54 from the Flavians to Hadrian  59–61 Galatia 496 Gaul  837, 848 Germania  882–883, 885–886, 896–900 hoards  51–52, 269, 283, 378, 896–897, 899 later second and third centuries  61–63, 62 Lycia 552–553 Nero’s coin reforms  58–59 Nikopolis 355–356 Syria 610–611 transition from republic to empire  54–56 trimetallic system, establishment of  54–57, 57 Coin Hoards of the Roman Empire Project  52 collegium Germanorum 109

958 colonization  Egypt 714 Epirus  353, 362 Macedonia 327 Colony / colonia colonnaded streets, in Syria  618–620 columbaria 203 commerce  Lycia  550, 552 maritime  21–22, 28 riverine 40 roads and waterways  37–44 Rome 198–200 Sicilia 246–247 see also trade concrete  fortress exteriors  96 hydraulic  25–28, 170 opus caementicium  168–169, 169 in Rome’s buildings  190 Congress of Roman Frontier Studies  92 construction  building materials and techniques in Cilicia 598–599 harbor 170–171 limes 887–889, 888 mortar-based 168–170, 169 contubernia  107, 289 cooking wares  78 distribution 83 as foodways indicator  83 copper  Arabia 701 Dacia 274 copper alloy coins  51, 56–57, 57, 63 copper mies  Les Barrenc  864 Thrace 424–425 Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum (CIL)  92 corvus 16 countryside  Britannia 921–926 Gaul 837–838 Hispania 809–810 rural landscape of Italy  220–226 see also rural settlement; towns; villages crank  157, 163, 164 cremation  203, 341, 392, 842, 895 cross-craft analysis  159 cross-craft influences  172 cults  Achaea  379, 387–388 Africa 772–773 Arabia  697, 703–705

Index Asia  475–476, 482–484, 483–484 Bithynia and Pontus  461–462 Cilicia 591 Crete 407 Cyprus 644–645 Egypt 731 Galatia  494, 496–500 Gallia Narbonensis  859, 866–867, 871–872 Germania 894 Hispania 811–812 imperial (see imperial cult) Judaea 679–680 Lebanon 624–626, 625 Lusitania  791, 793–794, 797, 800–801 Lycia 547–548 Magna Mater  202, 498, 894 Pamphylia 574–575 Pisidia  502, 505, 507–508 Rome 202 Thrace 433 see also sanctuaries cultural assimilation, limits of  178 cultural identity, in Egypt  714, 728–730 culture, Roman roads’ impact on  43 Dead Sea scrolls  680–681 décor, of fortresses  99–102, 100 defensive walls  Apollonia 749 Berenice 751 Castra Albana  97–99, 98 Castra Praetoria  96, 96–97 Lusitania 796 Taucheira 750 see also city walls deities, Roman  202 Delmatae 300 denarius  51–52, 55–56, 58–65 dendrochronology  Alchester in Britannia  913 Germania  16, 884, 886, 888, 896 Raetia  265, 269 DNA sequencing  732 dolia  22, 25 domestic architecture  Achaea 390–391 Cyprus 641–643 Egypt 727 Macedonia 339 Pamphylia 575–576 see also houses domestic life, in Asia  482 donkeys 161 drachmae  51, 56, 58–60, 64, 723–724, 724 Dressel 2–4  80, 81

Eastern Sigillata A (ESA)  71–73, 74, 83, 639 Eastern Sigillata B (ESB)  76, 639 economy  Africa 770–772 Crete 399–402 Cyclades 402–403 Cyrenaica 746 Egypt 720–725 Gallia Narbonensis  863–865 Gaul  838, 846 Lusitania 798–799 elections, in Rome  191 elephants 717 emblemata 23 emic point of view  8–10 emperors, temples to  9–10 emporia, along rivers  40 enslaved people, material remains of  9 entertainment  animal/beast hunts  308, 336, 387, 430, 620, 641, 840 Asia 482–483 gladiatorial games  308, 336, 387, 430, 435, 482, 499, 571, 620, 641 public spectacles in Rome  200–201 environmental evidence  927 epigraphic culture, in Dalmatia  312–313 epigraphic evidence  inscribed monuments in Dalmatia  302–303, 309–310, 312–313 Lusitania 800–801 equites singulares Augusti 108–109 ESA see Eastern Sigillata A ESB see Eastern Sigillata B estates  imperial in Italy  226 Macedonia 328–329 Sicilia 241 ethnicity 9 Egypt  727, 729–730, 732 Epirote 350 Judaea  660, 666 Thrace 424–425 European Coin Find Network  52 evaporation pans, salt  25–26, 26 fanum 846, 847 farms  Britannia 921 Gaul  837, 843, 849–850 Macedonia 339 Sicilia 243 typology of northern Italian  225

Index 959 fine wares  Cyprus 639 distribution 83–87 as foodways indicator  83 Germania 893 map of  70 trade 171 fires, Rome  198 First Jewish Revolt  58, 60, 262, 662, 665–666, 668, 670–674, 676–681 fish-farming 25 fishing 22–26 Bithynia and Pontus  448–449 boats 23, 24 Cilicia 584 Hispania 808 Lycia 552 Oppian’s poem  23 Pamphylia 578 fish sauce  25, 69, 82, 808 see also garum Fiumicino 1 28 Fiumicino 5 23, 24, 25 Flavian Period  Dalmatia  302, 313 Gallia  838, 840, 860 Hispania 819–820 Judaea 676 Lusitania  789–790, 792, 797 mints 60 Pamphylia 538 Philippopolis 428 Raetia 263–264 food culture  87–88 food laws.see sumptuary laws foodways  pottery and  70–71, 82–87 force pumps  163–164, 165 fortifications  Africa 764–765 border 94–102 Cyrenaica 752–753 Germania 897–899 Macedonia 339–340 Pamphylia  565, 567 see also military installations forts/fortresses 94–95 Africa 762–765 Britannia  913–916, 925, 928 Cyrenaica 752 Dalmatia 302–303 exteriors  96, 96–99, 98 interiors 99–102, 100

960 Judaea 663 vexillation forts  116–120 see also military installations forum (fora)  Butrint 358, 358 Corinth 385 Dacia 284–289, 285 Dalmatia 306 Gallia  835, 837, 839–844, 849 Gallia Narbonensis  857–859, 861 Germania 884, 884–885, 889, 891 Hispania 811 imperial 195–197, 196 of Italian towns  209–211 Lusitania 789–797, 793 Macedonia 330–332, 333 Marcianopolis  427, 436 position of key buildings  210 Roman Forum  209 see also agora fountains  Achaea 389 Macedonia 338 Pamphylia 572–573 Rome 197–198 frescos  Cyprus 643 Ptolemais 749 funerary monuments  Achaea 391–392 as communication media  622 Dalmatia  309–310, 312–313 depictions of women on  108, 109 Dion 340 Germania 895 of soldiers  92 Syria 621–622 Thrace 426 Tilurium 303 funerary practices, in Germania  894–896 Gallic Empire  269–270 Garamantes  758, 761, 762, 764–765, 767 gardens, in Rome  194 garum  25, 69, 247, 798–799 Gauloise 4  80, 81 Gazetteer of Roman Military Camps and Fortresses 116–150 gender roles, in Egypt  729 Germanic raids  269–270, 896–899 gladiatorial games  308, 336, 387, 430, 435, 482, 499, 571, 620, 641 gladiators  200–201, 482

Index glass 171–172 Cyprus 640 Gallia Narbonensis  864 Germania 894 Sicilia 247–248 “glocalization” 7 gold coins  52, 55–56, 58, 60, 62–63 gold mines  163 Dacia  274–275, 314 Dalmatia 314 Hispania 806 Macedonia 329 Goths  in Asia  468 in Cappadocia  526 in Thrace  421, 426, 432–433 grain, in Egypt  720–724, 722, 724 grave goods  Germania 894–895 Vagnari 226 grave monuments.see funerary monuments Great Fire, Rome  198, 200 grindstones 721, 722 guilds, maritime  28 gymnasia  Asia  480–481, 483 Cyclades 408–410 Egypt 727 Lycia  545, 550 Nicaea  457, 460–461 Pamphylia 571–572 Sicilia 249 gypsum mortar  170 Hadrian’s Wall  914–915, 924 Hamaxia 589, 590 hand cranks  163 harbor construction  170–171 harbors  cities of Sicilia  236–238, 237 Cyprus 637–638 Cyrenaica 745 Hispania 809 Lycia 550 harpax 16 helmets  cavalry  103, 103–106 Hagenau-type 103 hippodrome  Arabic 693 Asia 484 Egypt 726, 726 Judaea  663, 672 Lusitania  794, 796, 798

Macedonia  334, 337 Rome 201 Syria 620 Thrace 430 hipposandal  160, 161 hoards 51–52 horse harness  157, 160, 160 horses, selective breeding of  161 houses  Gaul  833, 839, 841–844 Judaea 665 Pamphylia 575–576 see also domestic architecture hushing 163 hydraulic concrete  25–28, 170 hydraulic mortar  170 Iapodes 301 Iazyges 278–282 identity, in Gallia Narbonensis  865–866 immigrants, in Rome  189, 203 imperial cult  Achaea  385, 387–388 Arabia  697, 705 Asia  475–476, 481–482 Cyclades  408, 412 Cyprus  636–637, 645, 648 Dacia 288 Dalmatia  301, 307 Epirus  353, 356, 358–359, 362, 365 Galatia  496, 498–499 Gallia  835, 848 Gallia Narbonensis  859, 871 Germania 894 Hispania  811–812, 817, 819–821 Lusitania 791 Lycia  547, 553 Macedonia  334, 342 Nicomedia 461–462 overview 9–10 Pamphylia  571, 575 Pisidia  505, 507–508 Rome  201, 210–211 Sicilia  239, 249–250 Thrace  420, 432 Indian Ocean maritime trade  29–32 industry  Arabia 700–701 Germania 893–894 Hispania 808–809 Sicilia  247, 248 infrastructure, of Gallia Narbonensis  861 innovation  158–159, 164 inns 39

Index 961 inscribed/epigraphic monuments  Dalmatia  302–303, 309–310, 312–313 Thrace 426 inscriptions  Cyprus 647–648 Cyrenaica 742 Dalmatia  309–310, 312–313 Thrace 426–427 invention  158, 164 Italian terra sigillata (ITS)  73, 75, 76, 87 Jewish Revolt  58, 60, 438, 741, 743, 748 First Revolt  58, 60, 262, 662, 665–666, 668, 670–674, 676–681 Second Revolt  61, 438, 662, 665–666, 668, 672, 676–679 Journal of Roman Military Equipment Studies 93 Jupiter columns  894, 895 kilns  73, 79–82, 84, 166–167, 171, 181 Asia 484 Chora 408 Cilicia 584 Dalmatia 315, 316 Gaul 838, 839, 843, 848 Hispania 808 Italy 226 Judaea  673, 676, 681–682 Lycia 553–554 North Africa  79 Sicilia  242, 247, 250 komai (villages)  Achaea 376–377 Egypt 725 Judaea 665 Lycia  541, 547 Macedonia 327–328 Pisidia 506 see also villages language  Egypt 728–729 Sicilia 248–249 large-scale production  166 Late La Tène period  257 legal system, in Egypt  728, 729 legionary bases  94–95 first century CE (map)  147 first to third centuries CE (map)  150 fortress exteriors  96, 96–99, 98 interior design  99–102, 100 locations of  116–119, 147, 148–150 second century CE (map)  148

962 legionary soldiers  91–92 Leibniz-Zentrum für Archäologie (LEIZA)  116 Library of Celsus at Ephesus  479–480, 480 liburni (ships)  16 Liburni (people)  300–301 Lidar (Light Detection and Ranging)  913–914 lime mortar  170 limes  Arabia  690, 692, 702 construction of  887–889, 888 Cyrenaica  741–742, 752–753 Dacia  277, 280, 293 Dalmatia 303 on Danube  95, 260, 422, 432 early research on  92–94, 101 Egypt 719 Germania  887–889, 887–891, 888, 893, 896 Judaea 663 Macedonia 339 Raetia  94, 260, 265, 267, 269 Syria 613–614 Thrace  422, 432 macellum (macella)  Andros 411 Arabia  693, 699 Britannia 918 Corinth 385 Dacia  285, 286–287 Gallia Narbonensis  589 Gaul 839 Germania 891 Italy 208–210 Macedonia 330–331 Pamphylia 569 Thrace  427, 435 machine crank  163 magnetometry 915, 919 manumissions  in Butrint  357–358 Roman policy on  189 marble 167–168 Asia  479, 481 Bithynia and Pontus  448 Cilicia 599 Hispania 807 Macedonia 329 trade system  168 Marble Plan, Rome  198, 200–202 Marble Style, in architecture  479–481 Marcomannic Wars  267, 277, 282, 288, 291, 477 marine products, in Hispania  808 maritime trade  29–32

Index market complexes, in Rome  199 marriage  Cyrenaica 742–743 Egypt 729–730 mass production  103, 166, 181 mass spectacles  Achaea 358, 386 Asia 482–483 see also entertainment material culture, in Britannia  926–927 Mausoleum of Augustus, Rome  194 merchants, attitudes toward  14, 23 merchant ships  19, 22 metals  Gaul 838 Hispania 806 trimetallic system in coinage  54–57, 57 migration  Celts into Galatia  492 Gallia Narbonensis  865–866 Greeks into Pamphylia  563 milestones 39 Arabia 701 Bithynia and Pontus  451, 452 Cilicia  588, 597 Cyprus 648 Hispania 823 Macedonia 341 Syria 612–614 see also roads militaria.see military equipment military 91–110 in Africa  762–765 as agent of technology transfer  172 architecture 94–102, 98 citizenship acquired by service  92 overview of previous research on  92–94 reform under Augustus  91–92, 99, 719 social relations  107–109, 110 supply 107 women’s roles and relationships with  93, 108–109, 109, 110 see also army military architecture  case study 1: fortress exteriors  96, 96–99, 98 case study 2: fortress interiors and décor 99–102, 100 design, semantics, and reception of  95–102 overview 94–95 playing card form  95 military camps  94–95 Egypt 719 Gaul 848

Hispania 817 see also military installations military equipment  depictions of  102–103, 105 early research on  93–94 helmets  103, 103–06 military installations  auxiliary forts  121–146, 147, 148–150 fortress exteriors  96, 96–99, 98 fortress interiors and décor  99–102, 100 Gazetteer of Roman Military Camps and Fortresses 116–146 layout of  95 legionary bases  116–120, 147–150 within Rome  95 vexillation forts  116–120 see also fortifications, forts/fortresses, military camps military sites  Arabia 701–702 Britannia 913–916 Dalmatia 302–304 Egypt 719–720 Judaea 675–676 Thrace 438 see also military camps milites  14, 17 mines  Arabia 701 Bithynia and Pontus  448 Dalmatia 314–315 Egypt 718–719 Gallia Narbonensis  864–865 Gaul 838 Germania 894 Hispania 805–806 Lusitania 798 Macedonia 329 Thrace 425–426 mining technology  157, 163–165, 165 mints  53–64, 181 Gaul 848 Lyon 837 miqva’ot see stepped pools moldboard plow 157, 160, 161 monetization  51, 53–54 monuments  ambassadors’/benefactors’, in Asia  470–471 Arabia  690, 694, 696–697 Asia  468–471, 470–471, 471 Cyprus 641 Dalmatia  302–303, 308–314 funerary (see funerary monuments)

Index 963 Gallia Narbonensis  854, 860–861 Parthian monument at Ephesus  476–479, 478 Rome  190 sepulchral in Achaea  391–392 Syria  611–612, 618–619, 621–622, 624, 627–628 mortar-based construction  168–170, 169 mosaics  Cyprus 641–642, 642 Macedonia 339 Sicily  243, 250–251 Thessaly 338 mule 161 mummy 731 municipium (municipia) museum collections 182 Nabataeans  688–694, 696–697, 699–706 name stamps.see stamps natural resources.see resources navy, Roman  14–18 necropoleis  Bithynium 458 Cilicia  595, 601 Cyprus 645–647, 647 Cyrenaica  746, 748 Dalmatia 308–310 Lycia 548–550 Pamphylia 576–577 Syria 622 Vagnari 226 see also burials; cemeteries nummi 63 nymphaeum (nymphaea)  Achaea 388–389 Bostra 697 Cilicia 588 Dalmatia 306 Gerasa 699 Gortyn 404 Lycia  542, 547 Macedonia  337, 341 Pamphylia  564, 568, 571–573 Pisidia 507 Sagalassos 486 obol  51, 64 odeon  Achaea 386–388 Arabia 694 Cilicia 597 Gortyn  406, 412

964 Judaea 672 Lycia 542 Lyon  835, 840, 848 Macedonia  330, 333, 336–337 Pamphylia 570 Ptolemais 750 Rome 194 Thrace 434–435 On Salaried Posts in Great Houses (Lucian)  88 opus caementicium  168–169, 169 opus testaceum  599 ostraka 30 Ouest-Embiez I shipwreck  22 oxen 161 Parthian monument at Ephesus  477–479, 478 Parthian Wars  Cilicia  587, 597 of Severus  61 of Trajan  60, 477 of Verus  61, 479 PAS (Portable Antiquities Scheme)  911–912, 923 pastoral nomadism, in Cyrenaica  744 patrol boats  16–17 Pax Romana 5 pearls 29–30 Periplus of the Red Sea 29–30 Peutinger Map  37, 44, 379 pilae 27 piracy/pirates  Asia 470–471 Cilicia  585, 587, 602, 635 Illyrian  14, 16 Pamphylia 562 Pompey’s conquest of  87, 587, 602, 740–741 piscina (piscinae)  23, 25, 27 plague 732 plow  ard  160, 161 moldboard 157, 160, 161 poinçons 166 political geography, of Lusitania  785–786 polyremes 16 Pompeiian Red Ware  78, 78 poor, material remains of  9 Portable Antiquities Scheme (PAS)  911–912, 923 porta praetoria, of Castra Albana  97–99 ports 26–28, 29 Cyprus 637 Egypt 30 Hispania 809 India 31 Red Sea  178, 717–718 Rome 198–200, 199

Index pottery 69–88 Africa 770 African Cook Ware (ACW)  78–79 African Red Slip (ARS)  75, 77 Britannia 925 contextualization of  70 cooking wares  78 Cyprus 639–640 Dalmatia 315 distribution 83–87 fine wares  70, 72–77 Gallia Narbonensis  857 Gaul  833, 836, 838, 842–844, 850 Germania 893–894 as indicator of foodways and distribution 82–87 Lycia 554–555 production traditions  71 Sicilia 246 table settings  87–88 trade 171 typological approach to study  70 see also amphorae; ceramics; pottery; sigillata; terra sigillata pozzolana 27 praetoria 8 praetorian guard  96 Prices Edict  63 principia, of Castra Vetera I  100, 100–101 production methods  166 provinces of the Roman Empire around the time of Hadrian  6 public buildings  Achaea 384–385 Italy  208–210, 212–213, 217, 218, 227 Pamphylia 569–570 public spaces  Achaea 384–385 Arabia 694 Cyprus 643 Hispania  811, 819 Macedonia 330–332, 333, 339 Pamphylia 567–569 of private homes  23 public spectacles, in Rome  200–201 quarries  Egypt 718–719 Gaul  838, 841 Germania 894 Macedonia 329 organization of  167–168 Thessaly 329

ram, ship’s  17, 18 reciprocating linear motion  163 religion  Africa 772–773 Asia 483–484 Britannia 928 Egypt 731–732 Gallia Narbonensis  866–871 Gaul 845 Germania 894–896 Judaea 678–682 religious sites/buildings  Arabia 703–705, 704 Bithynia and Pontus  461–462 Macedonia 334–336, 336 Pamphylia 574–575 Rescript of Honorius  928–929 resources  Bithynia and Pontus  448–449 Cappadocia 527–528 Cyprus 634–635 Dacia 274–275 Dalmatia 314–315 Hispania 806–809 Macedonia 328–329 Thrace 425–426 Rhosian ware  71–72 rivers 37 assessing impact of  40–43 commerce 40 roads 37–44 Achaea 379–380, 380 Arabia 701–702 assessing the impact of  40–43 Bithynia and Pontus  451–452, 452 bridges 39 Cappadocia  521, 526–527 categories 38 Cilicia 588 colonnaded streets  618–620 cultural influences  43 Cyrenaica 745–746 Dacia  278, 281 Dalmatia 304–305 Epirus 352–353 fortification of  43 Gallia Narbonensis  861 Hispania 811 Lusitania 787–788, 788 Lycia 552–553 Macedonia 341–342 Pamphylia 563–564 roadside establishments  39 repair 39

Index 965 Rome 203 Syria  608, 611–614 Thrace 422–423 tool of expansion and imperialism  38 ROMACONS project  27 Romanization 7–8 Arabia 705–706 implied by sigillata  83 Judaea 660 post-colonical viewpoints on  9 pottery 69 reassessment of  929–930 Roman Military Equipment Conference  93 Roman Object Revolution  181 Roxolani  279, 281 rural landscape of Italy  220–226 rural settlements in northern Italy  223–226 rural settlements in southern Italy  225–226 villas in central Italy  220–222, 221 rural settlement  Achaea  376–379, 382–383 Africa 770 Britannia  920–921, 920–926 Cyrenaica 751–752 Dalmatia 313 Germania 891–893 Italy 220–226 Macedonia 328 Sicilia 240–246 see also towns; villages sacred landscapes, in Cyprus  644–645 Sagalassos Red Slip  83 sailors  14, 17 Salluvii 855 salted fish  25, 552 salt 25–26, 26 sanctuaries  Achaea  379, 387–388 Arabia 699 Asia  475–476, 483–484 Bithynia and Pontus  452–453 Cappadocia 530–531 Cyclades 411–412 Cyprus 643–645 Cyrenaica  743, 748–750, 752 Gallia Narbonensis  858, 859–860, 867, 869–871 Gaul  835, 843, 845–846 Germania 894 Lycia 547–548 Pamphylia 574–575 Pisidia 507

966 Syria 617–619 Thrace 433 sarcophagi  Asiatic  471, 479, 481 biographical 479 Cilicia 601 clay 639 Cyprus  639, 644 Cyrenaica  743, 748 Dalmatia  309, 317 Gallia  850, 871 Lycia  548, 548–550 Macedonia 340–341 Pamphylia  576–577, 577 Pisidia 506 production locations  250, 309, 822 Sicilian 250 stone for  167–168 trade in  22, 168, 317, 448, 479 Sarmatians  278, 280–282, 290 scientific analysis  732 sculpture  Cyprus 643–644 Lycia 553 sea 14–32, 15 commerce 21–22 concrete harbor structures  170–171 exploration 29–32 fishing 22–26, 24 naval warfare  15–18 ports 26–28, 29 Romans’ adversarial relationship with  14 ship construction  18–21 secondary agglomerations, in Gaul  837, 842–843, 845 Second Jewish Revolt  61, 438, 662, 665–666, 668, 672, 676–679 selective breeding of animals  157, 161 Seleucids  Asia Minor  468, 472 Cappadocia  520, 523–524 Cilicia  585, 587 coinage 56 Gerasa 697 Pamphylia 561 Pisidia 507 Syria  609, 616 sepulchral monuments  Achaea 391–392 Dion 340 sestertius  51, 56, 57, 60, 63 settlement patterns  Arabia 690–692 Cyprus 640–641

Index Gallia Narbonensis  857 Hispania 812–817 Lusitania 788–790 settlements  Cyrenaica 751–752 Egypt 725–728 Galatia  494, 496–500 Lycia 539–541 Pisidia 505–508 urban in Britannia  916–921 see also rural settlement shekels  56, 59, 59 shields 102–103 shipbuilding  18–21, 171 Bithynia and Pontus  449 warships 17 shipwrecks  Cyprus 637 Dalmatia 317 excavation of  15, 18–20, 22–23, 28 Gallia Narbonensis  864 shrines  Arabia 703–705, 704 Macedonia 336 Rome 202 sigillata 31 African 77 Cyprus 639 functional possibilities of  87 relation to social and culinary developments 88 see also terra sigillata silphium 746 silver coins  52, 55–56, 58–64, 59 Egypt 724–725 Germania 900 silver mines  Dalmatia 314–315 Laurion 163 state-run 86–87 Sinop Regional Archaeological Project (SRAP)  447, 453–455, 461 slaves  on imperial estates  226 manumission  189–190, 357–358 in Rome  189–190 villa system slave labor  220, 224 slave trade  178 Smaller Herculaneum Woman  181 social network theory  159 Social War  206, 208, 214 softstone vessels  679 soldiers  marriages of  108, 110

recruitment and length of service  91–92 social relationships of  107–109, 110 see also veteran settlement/colony spectacle buildings  Lycia 544–545 Macedonia 336–337 Pamphylia 570–571 Syria 620 SRAP (Sinop Regional Archaeological Project)  447, 453–455, 461 stadium (stadia)  Achaea 385–387 Asia 482 Bithynia and Pontus  460 Epirus  354 Lycia 544–545 Pamphylia  570–571, 571 Thrace  423, 430–431, 431 stamps  amphora  21, 25 brick  159, 202, 303 dolia 22 legionary brick  107 pottery 166–167 sigillata  72, 76 standardization  72, 78–79, 106, 166, 168, 181, 332, 618 statuary  in fora  211 production 168 stepped pools  679 stone quarries  167–168 Hispania 806–807 Macedonia 329 stone supply  167–168 stone trade  5, 22 stone transport  42 storm drain, Rome  190 streets, in Macedonia  341–342 sulphur mines  248 sumptuary laws  23, 76, 87 survey projects  222–223 synagogues, in Judaea  678–679 table settings  87–88 Tactics (Arrian)  104–105 taxation  Egypt  720–721, 723–724 Sicily 234 technological determinism  158–159 technological networks  170–172 technology 156–172 crank  157, 163, 164 history of the study of Roman  157–158

Index 967 horse harness  157, 160, 160 horseshoes  160, 161 knowledge exchange  170 mining technology  157, 163–165, 165 moldboard plow  157, 160, 161 mortar-based construction  168–170, 169 myth busters  159–165 new organizational structures  166–170 selective breeding  157, 161 stone quarrying and supply  167–168 terra sigillata production  166–167 theoretical concepts and frameworks 158–159 watermills  157–158, 161–162, 162 technology shelf  158–160, 165 technology transfer  158 temples  Achaea  385, 387–388 Arabia  694, 697–698, 703–706 Asia  468–470, 472–479, 481, 483–484, 486 Bithynia and Pontus  457, 461–462 Cappadocia 533 Cilicia  589, 591, 592, 600–601 Crete 405 Cyclades  408, 410–411 Cyprus  643, 645, 646 Cyrenaica 748–749 Dalmatia  307, 307–308 Egypt  719, 731–732 Epirus 356–358 in fora, Italy  210 Galatia 498–499 Gallia Narbonensis  857, 859, 869, 869–871 Germania 894 Hispania  815, 817, 819, 821 Judaea  662–664, 667–668, 670, 679–680 Lebanon 624–626, 626 Lusitania  793, 797 Lycia 546–547 Lyon 835 Macedonia 333–336 Pamphylia 574–575 Pisidia  504–505, 507 Rome  191, 193–197, 201–202 Sicilia 239 Syria  617–619, 624–626, 626 Thrace 434–435 temple sharing  476 temporary camps, in Britannia  914–915 terracotta 171 terra sigillata  42–43 characteristics 72–73 Eastern Sigillata A (ESA)  71–73, 74

968 Eastern Sigillata B (ESB)  76 Gallia Narbonensis  857 Germania 893 Hispania 808 Italian terra sigillata (ITS)  73, 75, 76, 87 name stamps on  166–167 in planta pedis  72, 76 production of  166–167 South Gaulish  75, 76–77, 86–87 stamps on  72, 76 tetradrachmae  51, 55–56, 58–62, 59 theaters  Arabia  693–694, 697, 699 Bithynia and Pontus  457–459, 460 Cilicia  88–591, 589, 591 Crete  405, 407–410, 409, 413 Cyrenaica 750 Epirus  349, 354, 356–357, 359, 365 Galatia  496, 498–499 Gallia Narbonensis  859–860, 869 Gaul  835, 840, 842, 844–845, 848 Hispania 815 Italy  210, 213–214, 216–217 Judaea  663, 667–668, 672, 680 Lusitania 797 Lycia 544–545, 545 Macedonia 336–337 Pamphylia 570–571 Pisidia 506–507 Rome  193–194, 200 Sicilia 236–237 Syria 620 Tavium 498 Thrace  423, 430, 430 Theoretical Roman Archaeology Conference (TRAC)  913, 926 thermae  Catania 236 Gallia Narbonensis  860 Lycia 545 Rome 198 Thrace  427, 432–433, 435, 437, 437 see also baths tituli picti  21–22 tombs  Achaea  378, 391–392 Asia  470–471, 479 Bithynia and Pontus  450, 452, 459 Crete  405, 407 Cyclades 411–412 Cyprus 645–647, 647 Cyrenaica  743, 746, 748

Index Dalmatia 309 Gaul 842 Germania 895 Knossos 405 Lucius Poblicius in Cologne  101 Lycia 548–550, 552 Macedonia 341 Pamphylia 576 Rome 203 Sicilia  238, 242 Syria 621–623 as tourist sites  411 vaulted  341, 412 see also burials tombstones  108, 190, 303, 309, 313, 317, 392, 433 town planning, Lusitania  796–798 see also urbanism, urbanization towns  Britannia 916–921 development in Germania  889–890 Gaul  833, 837, 839, 843, 849–850 town walls.see city walls tow paths  40 TRAC (Theoretical Roman Archaeology Conference)  913, 926 trade  Africa 771–772 Arabia 700–701 Cyprus  634, 637–638, 640, 643, 650 Cyrenaica 746 Dalmatia 315 Egypt 717–718 Hispania 807–809 Indian Ocean  29–32 knowledge exchange via  170–172 Lycia 552 maritime 21–22 Pamphylia 578 Red Sea routes  717–718 Tiber River  212 in volcanic ash  170 see also commerce Trajan’s column, Rome  102–103 Tranquistan fort  848–849 transportation  roads and waterways  37–44 seabourne of stone  42 transport companies  41 trimetallic system, coinage  54–57, 57 triumphal arches  210, 269, 308, 507, 543, 676, 748–749, 793 Lycia 543, 543

underwater sites  Crete 404 Cyclades 408 Dalmatia 317 see also shipwrecks UNESCO World Heritage Sites  92 urban development, in Cilicia  587–593 urbanism 179 Bithynia and Pontus  455 Cyclades 411 Cyprus 640–641 Dalmatia  305–306, 309, 312 Epirus 365 Gallia Narbonensis  857–859 Italian peninsula  212, 214 Marcianopolis 436 Nikopolis 357 Salona  309, 312 Sicilia 238 Syria 614–621 urbanization  Achaea 380–382 Africa 765–770 Dalmatia 305 Gaul  834, 838–842 Hispania 812–817 Lusitania 788–798 Macedonia 326–328 Sicilia 237–240 Thrace 427–428 urban landscapes in Italy  208–220 central Italy  212–214 northern Italy  214–216, 215 southern Italy  216–220, 218–219 urban settlements, in Britannia  916–921 valetudinaria  101, 107 vallus 161 Vandals 759 vaulting tubes  169, 170–172 vaults 168–170, 169 veteran settlement/colony  Africa  769, 771 Corduba 814 Cyrenaica  742, 743 Dalmatia 304 Galatia  496, 498, 500 Gallia Narbonensis  857, 858–859 Germania  498, 500 Pisidia  503, 505, 507, 539, 564 Syria 626 Thrace 420 vexillation forts, locations of  116–120

Index 969 Via Egnatia  Epirus  352–353, 355, 364 Macedonia  323–327, 337, 339, 341–342 Thrace  419, 422–423 Victory, representations of  106 vigiles 198 villages  Africa 765 Arabia 699–700 Egypt 725 rural Italy  227 Sicilia 242–243 see also komai villas  Achaea  378, 382–383, 390 Britannia 921, 922, 924, 929–930 central Italy  220–222, 221 Dalmatia 313–314 Epirus 362–363 Galatia 498 Gaul  837, 843, 849–850 Germania  892–893, 896–899 Hispania  809–810, 821 Lusitania 799–800 Macedonia  323, 338–339 northern Italy  223–225 Pamphylia 577 Sicilia 243–246 southern Italy  225–226 Thrace 426 volcanic ash mortar  168, 170 votive altars  108, 181, 308 walls.see city walls; defensive walls warfare, naval  15–18 warships 15–18 water-lifting wheels  164, 165 watermill  157–158, 161–162, 162 water screw  164, 165 water supply  Achaea 388–389 Arabia 702–703 Bithynia and Pontus  460–461 Cilicia 588–589 Cyrenaica 745 Dalmatia 308 Lycia 546 Macedonia 337 Pamphylia 572–574 Rome  190, 197–198 Thrace 433 Tyana 530, 531

970 water technology in Roman mining  163–164, 165 waterways, inland  37, 40–44 weapons 102–103 wine, Sicilian export of  246

Index women 9 funerary monuments, depiction on  108, 109 roles and relationships with the military  93, 108–109, 109, 110 Year of Four Emperors  262, 819

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