Public Space in the Late Antique City [1-2] 9004413723, 9789004413726

Table of contents :
Volume 1: Streets, Processions, Fora, Agorai, Macella, Shops
Dedication
Contents
Foreword
List of Illustrations
Abbreviations
The Writing of This Book
Introduction
1 Street Architecture in Late Antiquity
2 Street Processions
3 Late Antique Street Life
4 Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD
5 Fora and Agorai during the Sixth Century AD and Beyond
6 Markets and Shops
7 Conclusion: Themes and Controversies
Graphs of Building Work
Distribution Maps of Building Work
Tables of Architectural Measurements
List of Places
Illustration Credits
Bibliography
Index
Volume 2: Public Space in the Late Antique City
Contents
Introduction
Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types
Appendix 1: Street Architecture
Introductory Note
Encroachment
Street Grids and Street Systems
Major Streets
Plazas
Porches and Façades
Street Ornaments
Minor Streets
Appendix 2: Fora / Agorai in the 4th–5th c. AD
Appendix 3: Fora / Agorai in the 6th c. and Beyond
Appendix 4: Market Buildings and Shops
Index

Citation preview

PUBLIC SPACE IN THE LATE ANTIQUE CITY VOLUME 1

LATE ANTIQUE ARCHAEOLOGY (SUPPLEMENTARY SERIES) SERIES EDITOR

LUKE LAVAN MANAGING EDITOR

PETER CRAWFORD VOLUME 5/1

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/laax

Cities of the Madaba map mosaic A.D. 542–70, (clockwise): Jerusalem, Gaza, Pelusium, Diospolis, Ascalon, redrawn by A. Merry 2020.

PUBLIC SPACE IN THE LATE ANTIQUE CITY VOLUME 1: STREETS, PROCESSIONS, FORA, AGORAI, MACELLA, SHOPS BY

LUKE LAVAN

LEIDEN | BOSTON

Cover illustration: Reconstruction of Round Plaza of Gerasa, ca. A.D. 400 (copyright Will Foster / VLAC team, University of Kent). The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available online at http://catalog.loc.gov LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2020002112

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill-typeface. ISSN 2352-5177 ISBN 978-90-04-41372-6 (hardback, set) ISBN 978-90-04-42382-4 (e-book) ISBN 978-90-04-40428-1 (hardback, volume 1) ISBN 978-90-04-40429-8 (hardback, volume 2) Copyright 2020 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Hes & De Graaf, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Rodopi, Brill Sense, Hotei Publishing, mentis Verlag, Verlag Ferdinand Schöningh and Wilhelm Fink Verlag. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Requests for re-use and/or translations must be addressed to Koninklijke Brill NV via brill.com or copyright.com. Brill has made all reasonable efforts to trace all rights holders to any copyrighted material used in this work. In cases where these efforts have not been successful the publisher welcomes communications from copyright holders, so that the appropriate acknowledgements can be made in future editions, and to settle other permission matters. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

to my parents, Catherine and Michael Lavan, to my wife, Quyên, and to our children, Aidan and Iona

∵

Contents Foreword xiii List of Illustrations xiv Abbreviations xxi The Writing of This Book xxiv Introduction  1 The Late Antique City: Change or Decline? 1 Everyday Life in the Late Antique City 4 Scholarship to Date 4 Spatial Theory? 5 The Evidence 6 The Scope of the Topic 9 Knowledge Assumed 10 How to Read This Book 11 1 Street Architecture in Late Antiquity 12 Streets as Urban Experience 12 The Nature of the Evidence 13 Street Encroachment: Reality or Myth? 14 Street Grids and Street Systems 21 Monumental Streets in Late Antiquity 34 Street Monuments 62 Minor Monuments and Investment in Amenity 106 Conclusions on Monumental Streets 132 Minor Streets 135 Streets After Late Antiquity: Persistence and Destruction 146 Conclusions 148 2 Street Processions 150 Introduction 150 The Sources 152 Political Processions 154 Social Processions 191 Religious Processions 206 Other Processions 225 Processional Culture 227 Temporality 229 Spatial Relationships 230 Persistence 230 Conclusions 231 3 Late Antique Street Life 235 Street Life beyond Rome and Pompeii 235 The Sources 235 Political Life: Monumentality and Ceremony 236 Social Life 237 Commercial Life 244 Traffic Regulation 248 Religious Life 254 Regulatory Visits 257

x

Contents

Street Culture 259 Temporality 261 Conclusions 261 4 Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD 263 Introduction 263 The Sources 263 Architecture 265 Statue Dedication and Statue Editing 287 The Functions of Fora / Agorai and Associated Buildings 308 Temporality 332 Destruction, Demolition, Degradation, and Abandonment 333 Conclusions 338 5 Fora and Agorai during the Sixth Century AD and Beyond 339 Continuity or Disappearance? 339 The Sources 339 Architecture 341 Occupation or Abandonment? 354 The Functions of Fora / Agorai and Associated Buildings 358 The Seventh Century and Beyond 363 From Agora to Church? 366 Conclusions 371 6 Markets and Shops 374 Commercial Pressure and the End of the Classical City 374 The Sources 374 Regulated Stalls 375 Civil Basilicas 381 Market Buildings 381 Sigma Plazas 386 Shops 391 The Building and Repair of Shops 407 Shopping and Social Life 409 Shopping Culture 411 Regulation 412 Temporality 414 Persistence 415 Conclusions 415 7 Conclusion: Themes and Controversies 418 Chronological Change: Continuity and Rupture 418 Quality of Continuity 426 Regional Variation: A Late Antique Urban Koine? 428 The Nature of Constantinople 430 Significance: Public Space and Late Antique Society 434 Christianity and Civic Life: What Impact? 452 On the Reception of Late Antiquity in the Modern World 468 The Last Word 475

Contents

Graphs of Building Work 479 Distribution Maps of Building Work 506 Tables of Architectural Measurements 524 List of Places 531 Illustration Credits 555 Bibliography 566 Primary Sources 566 Secondary Sources 578 Index 609

xi

Foreword This book has been a long time in the making. The first volume was begun during a Leverhulme post-doctoral studentship at the Collège de France in 2001–2002, and continued thanks to fellowships at the British Institute of Archaeology at Ankara in 2002–2003, at the University of Cologne / Humboldt Foundation in 2003–2004, and at KULeuven in 2005–2007. It developed further at the University of Kent, under Leverhulme Research Project F/00 236/AF The Visualisation of the Late Antique City, of which I was principal investigator and Ellen Swift coinvestigator. This gave me research leave from teaching in 2011. The second volume was written in Paris 2016– 2017, during a two-year European Fellowship, hosted by Jean-Pierre Sodini and then Vincent Déroche. This project received funding from the European Union’s Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme under the Marie Sklodowska-Curie grant agreement H2020MSCA-IF-2014 659216. These grants allowed me not only to study late antique cities, but also to visit them, which was of great benefit. The first volume received further support from John Beale, in the form of teaching buyout, whilst the second was completed in University of Kent time in 2018. Paul Dyer supported page-setting expenses. Finally, I owe thanks to Kent for a publication grant, matched by Pro-Vice-Chancellor Philippe de Wilde, which ensured that the book was submitted smoothly. Marcella Mulder and Kate Hammond at Brill were generous in setting contract terms. Ester Lels and her page setter did a great job handling the manuscript. Of acknowledgements, I must make some special mentions. My academic partnership with Ellen Swift at Kent has been fruitful. I owe thanks to many scholars, for reading drafts of my work. The manuscript has been anonymously double-refereed through Michael Mulryan and Enrico Zanini. This was undertaken on all the main chapters, but not the introduction or conclusions, the appendices being read by regional readers known to me. The illustrations are by Emma Boast and Lloyd Bosworth, whilst Michael Mulryan and my father Michael Lavan assisted in editing and library work. David Walsh and Sue Willetts provided scans. Jan-Theo Van Bakker, Peter Crawford, and Solinda Kamani did final edits, with Solinda, Erika Balban and Kelsey Bennett on the index. Yasemin Akiş helped translate Turkish on

Laodicea. As this book has taken a long time to write, a further list of acknowledgements cannot be completed here. Sebastian Mercier deserves a huge thanks for driving me across Spain, France, Turkey, and elsewhere, as does Doug Underwood for Greece and Italy. Aimee Wachtel initially page-set this book, before it went to Brill. Jean-Pierre Sodini, Béatrice Caseau, Vincent Déroche, Werner Eck, Averil Cameron, and Charlotte Roueché have offered important academic support. Helen Gittos, Shelagh French, Peter Talloen, Julian Richard, Catherine Saliou, Michael Mulryan, David Walsh, and Caroline Lawrence have done much to keep me going. Innumerable other scholars have been kind to me, often when I did not deserve it. Errors are my own. In all fairness, thanks are deserved also to the people of Canterbury, where most of this book has been written. Life at the university has been tough in recent years, but its administrative staff have been kind and supportive. Canterbury’s archaeological units and amateur societies are unusually vibrant, providing much needed support at a time when universities have stepped back from investing in field archaeology. Its museum staff, from the Roman Museum to the Cathedral libraries, are supportive and willing to collaborate. Even the train staff at Ashford Eurostar station manage a familiar greeting, which makes up for their belief that public notices in French are actually in Flemish. The events of the French community in Canterbury, the walks with other parents across the field to school, and the greetings of cyclists on the Stour path have all made a contribution to this book, which has at times felt rather like a prison sentence, unrelenting in its monotony, not just for me. The most generous bearers of my weighty expressions have of course been my wife, Quyên, her mother Van, and my children, Aidan and Iona. They came along at just the right moment to keep me in good spirits. I apologise to them for having to put up with this book for so long. Somehow, I never did manage to save the world via Late Antique Archaeology. The sewers of Constantinople are indeed a long way from our garden and the needs of the people in our lives. But if anyone reading this study is tempted to think that it is the work of one person’s effort, then think again.

Illustrations Notes: For source information see ‘Illustration Credits’ at the end of this volume. Many plans and sections have been edited by Lloyd Bosworth, Emma Boast and Eren Karan. They are credited when the plans were entirely new. Figures 01 02 A1 A2 A3 A4 A5 B1

Reconstruction of Round Plaza of Gerasa, ca. AD 400 xxix Reconstruction of the Foro della statua eroica, Ostia, AD 387 xxix Trajectories in Mediterranean Urbanism: AD 350 2 Trajectories in Mediterranean Urbanism: AD 450 2 Trajectories in Mediterranean Urbanism: AD 550 3 Trajectories in Mediterranean Urbanism: AD 650 3 Encroachment of backstreets by churches, Palmyra 17 New urban foundations: Philippopolis (mid-5th c.) and Diocletianopolis (early 4th c.) 22 B2 Replanned cities: Paris (early 4th c.) and Gorsium-Herculia (late 3rd–early 4th c.) 22 B3a Fort plans, 4th c.: el-Lejjun, Housesteads (4th c. state), Iatrus, Dinogetia 23 B3b Fort plans, tetrarchic: Daganiya (Syria) and Dionysias (Egypt) 24 B4a Fort Plans: Camp of Diocletian, Palmyra, and tetrarchic fort of Nag el-Hagar (?Praesentia), Egypt 25 B4b The Palace of Diocletian at Split 26 B5a New urban quarters of the 4th c.: Sitifis (entirely new) and Alexandria (re-established, with new road) 27 B5b Ravenna, showing the new urban quarter of the early 5th c., with irregular-sized rectangular insulae, potentially of large dimensions 27 B6 New urban foundations of the 6th c.: Resafa-Sergiopolis, Zenobia, and Justiniana Prima 29 B7 Troesmis, plan of 6th c. fortress, from 19th c. survey 30 B8 Late Antique bourgades: Trimithis (Amheida), Shivta, ?Castra Porphyreon (Kafr Samir), and Arif 31 B9a Abu Mina, a large bourgade, of 5th–6th c. date, installed around a pilgrimage site 32 B9b ‘Marea’ / Philoxenite, a bourgade with planned major streets of earlier 6th c. date 33 B10 Umayyad urban planning in the Levant: the palace quarter of Jerusalem and the new foundation of ‘Anjar 34 B11a Late antique colonnaded streets: Thracian Philippopolis, Aizanoi, Ephesus (Upper Embolos), and Jerusalem 37 B11b The southernmost colonnaded street of Diocletian’s Palace, Split, early 4th c. 38 B12 Simplified plan of widths of late antique colonnaded streets, showing main features 42 B13a–e Porticoes of late antique date, facades, reconstructed, by Lloyd Bosworth 2019: a. Ostia, portico in front of theatre, poorly-matched spolia AD 385–89; b. Ephesus, Alytarch Stoa, new built, aracaded, well-matched spolia, AD 410–36; c. Ephesus, Curetes Stoa, twostorey, arcaded, mixture of columns and piers, ca. AD 550; d. Aphrodisias, east portico of north-south colonnaded street, two-storey, arcaded, alternating piers and columns, AD 500–614; e. Rome, Forum of Caesar, new built, two-storey flat architraves, hidden upper arcade, well-chosen reused materials, cut away showing finished state, structural features, and ruined condition, AD 357–82 44 B13f Reconstructed cross section of street porticoes, at Sardis (East-West Colonnaded Street), Athens (Library of Pantainos), and a Near-Eastern city (from Julian of Ascalon) 45

Illustrations B14a B14b B14c B15a B15b B16a–h B17

Portico floors: (i) coherent geometric mosaic (Scythopolis) 49 Portico floors: (ii) mixed mosaic carpets (Ephesus) 49 Comparative sketch of late opus sectile portico flooring 50 Sidewalk, raised, at Gerasa, on both sides of the road 52 Sidewalk at Ephesus (Marble Street) 53 Street paving 55 Round plazas, excavation plans: Gerasa, Bostra, Durres, Antioch, Justiniana Prima, Palmyra 63 B18a ‘Tetrakionion’ (Palmyra) 64 B18b ‘Tetrastylon’ (Ephesus) 66 B19a A tetrapylon without its attic (Rome, ‘Arch of Janus’). See fig. B19b for this monument with its attic 68 B19b Tetrapyla, comparative sections: Carnuntum, Rome (‘Arch of Janus’), Rome (Malborghetto), Thessalonica 69 B20a Simplified plan of ‘Tetrakionia’, ‘Tetrastyla’, Tetrapyla, and Arches 70 B20b Cross-hall tetrapylon, legionary camp, Lambaesis, Numidia 71 B21a Monumental arches: comparative sections from Rome, Africa, and Aegyptus (Libya) 75 B21b Monumental arches, comparative sections from Constantinople and the Aegean: Thessalonica, Constantinople (Forum of Theodosius), Ephesus, and Perge 75 B21c Sufetula, Arch of Diocletian 76 B21d Late arch types: Anazarbos, Resafa-Sergiopolis arch no. 2, Resafa-Sergiopolis arch no. 3, Caesarea Palestinae 77 B21e Qalat Seman, Syria. Arch at entrance to pilgrimage site 78 B21f Resafa-Sergiopolis, façade of north gate 79 B22a Honorific columns 86 B22b Honorific column supporting a statue of the emperor Phocas, Forum Romanum 87 B23a Simplified plan of basin sizes of late antique façade nymphaea 96 B23b Sections of late antique monumental fountains, certain, possible, discounted: Ostia (Bivium) (250–75), Sufetula (364–67), Tipasa (possibly 300–430), Gortyn (300–65), Philippi, ecclesiastical (400–537), Ephesus (Fountain opposite the stadium) (400–540), Laodicea (395–610), Antioch (probably 3rd c., not late antique) 97 B24a A façade transformed into a façade nymphaeum: the Agora Gate at Aphrodisias 98 B24b A façade transformed into a façade nymphaeum: the Heroon on the Embolos at Ephesus. The ballustrades were cut anew, probably in the 5th c. 99 B24c Elliptical fountain, Tipasa, possibly of 300–430 100 B25a–d Street fountains: Cuicul, Stobi, Gortyn, Knidos 107 B25e Sewer pipes and freshwater water channel, laid together with the road paving, at Scythopolis, street by amphitheatre, showing an ?earlier complementary system revealed at a lower level 111 B26a–b Road sections with sewers: Constantinople (west side of Hagia Sophia); Constantinople (Milion Sondage), Constantinople (Mese); Trier; Apamea; Caesarea Palestinae; Jerusalem (Cardo); Athens; Pompeii, comparative sections of sewers 116 B26c Street lighting, Ephesus, drawing from theatre, overlooking the Arcadiane 121 B26d Street lighting, Antioch 480s (Yakto mosaic) 121 B26e Statue bases fronting a street portico, Upper Embolos, Ephesus 124 B27a Pedimental façade, Ostia (Domus del Protiro) 125 B27b Street façades, concave and piered. Rome, (‘Temple of Romulus’), Philippi (episcopium, south and north), Rome (Basilica of Maxentius), Apamea (episcopium), and Ostia (Foro della statua eroica) 126 B27c Street façade, elevations: Rome (Basilica of Maxentius) porch, Athens (Palace of the Giants), Rome (ʻTemple of Romulusʼ), Cyrene (market building), Philippi (episcopium), Constantinople (Hagia Sophia), Constantinople (Senate on Augusteion), Scythopolis (West Baths), Arles (Imperial Palace) 127

xv

xvi B27d B27e B27f B27g

B28a B28b B29 C1 C2a C2b C3a C3b C4 C5 C6 C7 C8 D1 D2 D3 D4 D5 E1 E2

E3a E3b E3c E4a E4b E5a E5b E5c

Illustrations Street façade, Rome, ‘Temple of Romulus’ 128 Portico façade of S. Lorenzo, Milan 129 Porches set within porticoes, ‘Anjar 130 The Cardo of Apamea, Syria. A colonnaded street of 2nd c. date, today providing the most evocative extant parallel to the main colonnaded avenue of Constantine’s new capital, the Upper Mese 134  Stepped side roads: one of many repaved in Late Antiquity at Ephesus, leading north from the Embolos 136 Paestum, central area, showing Early Imperial encroachments of minor streets 140 Comparative plan of well-organised post-antique street encroachments, building over the roadway itself: Hierapolis, Palmyra, and Ptolemais 147 Adventus: Galerius enters an eastern city, Arch of Galerius, Thessalonica 158 Circus parades: Consular sarcophagus from San Lorenzo, Rome 172 Consular parade in a chariot: opus sectile mosaic from funerary basilica of consul Junius Bassus, who died in AD 359 173 Victory parade: ?Tetrarchic medallion from Olbia, Diocletian’s consular medallion of 287 177 Victory parade: Diocletian’s consular medallion of 287 177 Punishment Parade: parade on camels from the Column of Theodosius I (after 16th c. drawings by F. Battista, Musée du Louvre, inv. 4951) 180 Parade to the Baths: Mosaic from Piazza Armerina (4th c.), showing a rich lady walking in procession surrounded by servants, with all she needed for bathing 192 Sacrifice procession: Tetrarchic Decennalia monument, Rome 207 Festival procession: festival costumes, Museum of Sardinian Life and Folk Traditions, Nuoro 210 Marriage ceremony: mosaic of marriage of Moses and Sephora, S. Maria Maggiore, Rome, Triumphal Arch, early 430s AD 211 Forms of transport 250 Wheelruts at Sardis 251 Striations for animal grip, on the Upper Embolos, in early 5th c. paving, on the righthand side of the road for those descending the hill 252 Street life in Antioch, 480s 253 Crosses in context 255 Extant late antique plazas of Constantinople: Forum of Theodosius and Basilica courtyard 266 Rectangular plazas built in Late Antiquity, outside Constantinople: Aphrodisias, Scythopolis, St Bertrand de Comminges, Ostia (Foro della statua eroica), Tripolis ad Meandrum 267 The tetrastoon at Aphrodisias, a new plaza of the later 4th c. 268 East Propylon of the Roman Agora, Athens, containing repairs in visible reused material, as in the paving and steps of the central passage 269 Propylon 1 of the North Agora, Laodicea, built 284-305, according to the excavators, without substantiating evidence 270 Ramp, with striations for grip, probably established to allow animal access to the agora, Philippi 278 Late agora porticoes at Megalopolis, Aphrodisias (Tetrastoon), and Sagalassos (Upper and Lower Agorai) 281 Paving slabs, different styles: the Forum of Iol Caesarea, the Forum of Ostia (portico) and in the Foro della statua eroica, also Ostia 283 Civil basilicas built in Late Antiquity, or just before: Complutum, Cuicul, Sabratha, Constantinople (Forum of Theodosius) 284 Civil basilica, Sabratha 286

Illustrations E6a

An imperial image in colour: Paolo Liverani’s reconstruction of the Vatican Ariadne, from paint traces on her bonnet and eyes. LSA 755, late 5th to early 6th c. Photo: P. Liverani 290 E6b Late antique statue monuments found with bases, from Asia Minor. Aphrodisias: Rhodopaios (pater and senator) [6th c.], Pytheas (a notable and senator) [late 5th c.], Flavius Palmatus praeses Cariae [sometime 460–535]. Tripolis ad Meandrum: Unnamed chlamys statue. Ephesus: Stephanus proconsul Asiae [ca. 410] 291 E6c Uninscribed composite statue base, Lower Agora of Sagalassos 296 E6d Statue base emplacements: late groups set on porticoes: Gortyn, Ephesus, Tripolis ad Meandrum, and Sagalassos 298 E6e Statue bases set on a street portico (3 examples surviving in situ / almost in situ of a row of 8): Ephesus, Embolos, Alytarch Stoa 299 E7a–h Statue base distributions in fora / agorai with well-preserved late antique epigraphic fields: Aquileia, Thamugadi, Cuicul, Lepcis Magna, Aphrodisias (Tetrastoon), Sagalassos (Lower Agora), Sagalassos (Upper Agora), Ephesus (Embolos) 300–306 E8a Bouleuterion of Nysa, showing repair to stage wall in reused blocks 310 E8b–c Curiae constructed in Late Antiquity: Rome (Secretarium, ‘Atrium Minervae’, Curia Senatus) and Sabratha 311 E8d The curia of Sabratha, rebuilt in 364–67, showing the interior, with the last step added sometime within 364–442 312 E8e A professionally-cut gameboard, with seating, from a reused statue base and cornices, in the tetragonal agora, Perge 322 E9a Ostia, Small Temple of the Palaestra, repurposed from a fountain 326 E9b Saepinum, Forum, ‘Temple of Jupiter’ with line of reused statue bases 327 E9c Sala, Forum, line of reused statue bases, for Constantine and imperial colleagues, likely erected together 317–24 329 F1 New / refurbished agorai of late 5th to 7th c. date: Laodicea, Abu Mina, and Philadelphia (Amman) 342 F2 The rebuilding of the Forum of Theodosius, Constantinople, in the 6th c. 343 F3a The round plaza of Dyrrachium (500–525) 344 F3b The Circular Harbour of Carthage, as rebuilt under Justinian 345 F4 Porticoes constructed on agorai at Philippi (ca. 500) and Ephesus, Lower Agora (later 6th c.) 346 F5 The Antonine Nymphaeum, Upper Agora of Sagalassos, rebuilt with non-original statuary, and some elements misplaced from the front and rear of the structure 347 F6 Acclamations in favour of Albinus, clarissimus, from columns of the south agora, Aphrodisias, sometime within or after the reign of Justinian [527–614] 351 F7 Professionally-cut gameboards, with crosses as Rosettes, from the upper agora of Ephesus and from the upper agora of Sagalassos 352 F8 Horologion inaugurated on the agora of Gaza, as described by Choricius 353 F9 Overbuilding by churches: the lower agora of Pergamon 357 G1 Possible market stalls at Sagalassos, Upper Agora 376 G2 Possible market stalls at Sagalassos, detail; Sagalassos, Upper Agora cleaning, 2006 377 G3 A market stall, Antioch, 480s. Yakto Mosaic 380 G4 A market stall shown in the Rossano Gospels 381 G5 Comparative plans of some new-built late antique market buildings: the basilica vestiaria at Cuicul, that at Thamugadi, the replanned Hellenistic market building at Cyrene, a macellum identified by bone dumps at Geneva, and a possible macellum from Athens 383 G6 Tetragonal agora of Perge: refurbished in Late Antiquity 384 G7 Comparative plans of structures converted into halls of cellular rooms in Late Antiquity (the date of the shops in the Baths at Side is not yet confirmed), at the same scale 389

xvii

xviii G8a G8b G9a G9b G10 G11 G12

Illustrations Comparative plans of sigma plazas, at the same scale: Corinth, Philippi, Stobi, Scythopolis (Sigma A), and Scythopolis (Sigma B) 387 Sigma Plazas: Stobi and Scythopolis 388–89 Comparative plan of cellular shops built in Late Antiquity: Tralleis, Patara, Aizanoi, and Sardis 391 Comparative plan of cellular shops built in Late Antiquity. Athens (Library of Pantainos), Justiniana Prima, Ephesus (Alytarch Stoa), and Abu Mina 392 Shops with collective barrel vaults: Ephesus, Lower Agora and Patara 399 Internal fixtures of late antique shops: Ostia, bar counter; Ephesus, cupboards; Side, counter with vat for holding liquids; Sardis, basin 403 Constantinople, as reconstructed by Tayfun Oner, a city dominated by civic space, with hippodrome, baths, grand avenue, law courts, public library, senate, and forum 478

Graphs Note: These graphs illustrate appendix numbers of volume 2. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9a 9b 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

C2: Colonnaded streets, new (part of new urban quarters) 480 C3: Colonnaded streets, new / comprehensively rebuilt (not part of new quarters) 480 C2 & C3: Colonnaded streets, new, all 480 C4: Street porticoes, new individual 481 C5: Street porticoes, repaired (excluding floors only) 481 C4–C6d: Porticoes, all building work 481 C7: Sidewalks with cross-references 482 C11: Sewers and drains with cross-references 482 C9a: Surfacing in stone paving (major works on major roads) 483 C9a: Surfacing in stone paving with cross-references 483 C10a: Street surfacing in paving, gravel, pebble, cobbles, rubble etc. (major strrets) 483 C9a, C9b & C10a: Street surfacing in paving, gravel, cobbles, and other good quality materials (major streets) 484 C10b: Street surfacing in beaten earth and related materials, selected examples (major and minor streets) 484 E1a–E1j: Entrance porches 485 E2a–E2c: Small semi-circular recessed façades 485 E1a–E4: Porches and facades 485 F2: Tetrastyla 486 F3: Tetrapyla new built 486 F1–F5: Tetrakionia, tetrastyla, tetrapyla, new and repaired (on city streets) 486 F7a: Arches, new (including arches giving onto fora / agorai) 487 F7b: Arches, repairs with cross-references 487 F8a: Wall arches 487 F7a–b & F8a: Arches, new built and repaired, all types 488 F8 & F10: Honorific columns 489 H1: Monumental fountains, new, on streets 490 H2: Monumental fountains, repair / rebuilt, on streets 490 H1–H3: Monumental fountains, all works, on streets 490 H6: Street fountains, new and repaired 491 H6b: Fountains around churches, a selection 491 H6: H6b Fountains, all types, new and repaired 491 H7: Statues in streets, new 492 J1: Minor streets built anew 493 J3: Minor streets, paving and surfacing with cross-references 493

Illustrations 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45a 45b 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54a 54b 55 56 57 58 59 60

J1–J3: Minor streets, all works J1–3: Minor streets, all works (the East) 494 J1–3: Minor streets, all works (the West) 494 K4a P1 & K4b P1: Porticoes on f/a, new (inscriptions) 495 K4a P2 & K4b P2: Porticoes on f/a, new (non-epig. texts and archaeology) 495 K4a1–K4b2: Porticoes on f/a, new, (all sources) 495 K1a & S1: Rectangular plazas, new 496 K1b & S2: Round plazas, new 496 K2a, K2b, S3: Fora / agorai, comprehensive restorations 496 K4a1–K4b2 & S4: Porticoes on fora agorai, new with cross-references 497 K4d & S5a: Paving on fora / agorai with cross-references 497 K7a, K7b, S7a: Monumental fountains on f/a, new and repaired 497 L1, L2, S12b: City council chambers with cross-references 498 M2: Tribunals with cross-references 499 U1–U4: Churches built on, not over fora/agorai 499 V1 & V2: Churches built over fora/agorai 499 V4a–V4d: Degradation and disuse of fora/agorai, the west 500 V5a–V5d: Degradation and disuse of fora/agorai, the east 500 V4a–V5d: Degradation and disuse of fora/agorai, east & west 500 W1: Market buildings, new / comprehensively restored 501 W2: Market building, repaired (all types) 501 W1 and W2: Market buildings, new and repaired (all types) 501 X1a p1 & X1b p1: Civil basilicas on f/a, new 502 X1a p2, p3 & X1b p2: Civil basilicas on f/a, repaired 502 X1a–X1c: Distribution of investment civil basilicas 502 X2: Sigmas plazas (semi-circular exedras with ranges of cellular rooms, unless stated otherwise) 503 Y1 p1: Y8: Shops, news and repaired 504 Y1 p1: Y3: Shops on f/a, new and repaired 504 Y4: Y6 : Shops on streets, new and repaired 504 Secular building in Late Antiquity (streets, plazas, political buildings, macella, and shops) 505

Maps 1a–c 2 3 4a–d 5a–d 6a–d 7a–d 8a–d 9 10a–b 11 12a–d 12e 13a–b 14a–c

Building work on monumental streets in Late Antiquity, new construction examples  506 Building work on sewers  507 Building work on water supply  508 Porches, new  509 Major decorative monuments, new  510 Building work on arches  511 Building work on honorific columns  512 Building work on monumental fountains on streets, 4m + wide  513 Statues on streets, new  514 Minor streets  515 Fora / Agorai, 4th–5th c. new building  516 Minor building work on Fora/Agorai, 4th–5th c. (porticoes, paving, entrances, staircases) 517 Minor building work on Fora/Agorai, 4th–5th c. (all types)  518 City council chambers, new and repaired  519 Temples, new and rebuilt  520

xix

xx

Illustrations

15a–d Building work on Fora/Agorai, 6th–7th c.  521 16a–d Building work on commercial structures  522 17 All positive acts of civic building in Late Antiquity (excluding entries for abandonment, decay, degradation, destruction, encroachment, phases of occupation, houses, porches, churches, and synagogues, but including temples, as they were civic buildings)  523

Tables 1 2 3 4

Monumental streets: width 524 Monumental streets: height 525 Street monuments: dimensions 526 Cellular shops: dimensions and numbers 528

Abbreviations ACO AE ALA

E. Schwartz ed., Acta Conciliorum Oecumenicorum (Berlin and Leipzig 1922f.). L’Année épigraphique. C. Roueché, Aphrodisias in Late Antiquity: The Late Roman and Byzantine Inscriptions including Texts from the Excavations at Aphrodisias Conducted by Kenan T. Erim (London 1989). At (concerned with pottery) Atlante delle forme ceramiche, vol. 1: ceramica fine romana nel bacino mediterraneo (medio e tardo impero) (Enciclopedia dell’arte antica, classica e orientale) (Rome 1980) or Atlante delle forme ceramiche, vol. 2: ceramica fine romana nel bacino mediterraneo (tardo ellenismo e primo impero) (Enciclopedia dell’arte antica, classica e orientale) (Rome 1985). BBKL Biographisch-Bibliographisches Kirchenlexikon. BCTH Bulletin du Comité des travaux historiques. BE Bulletin épigraphique. BGU Aegyptische Urkunden aus den Königlichen (later Staatlichen) Museen zu Berlin, Griechische Urkunden. CCSL Corpus Christianorum. Series Latina. CGL F. Lindemann ed., Corpus Grammaticorum Latinorum Veterum (1831–40) 4 vols. CIG Corpus Inscriptionum Graecarum. CIL Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum. CLE F. Bücheler and E. Lommatzsch edd., Carmina Latina Epigraphica (Leipzig 1930). Cple Constantinople. CSA Oxford Cult of Saints Project Database http://csla.history.ox.ac.uk/ CSEL Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum. CSCO.SS Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium, Scriptores Syri. DSP Dérivées des sigillées paléochrétiennes (A type of pottery found especially in Gaul). EDR Epigraphic Database Roma www.edr-edr.it Guidoboni E. Guidoboni, “Catalogo”, in Terremoti prima del Mille in Italia e nell’area mediterranea, ed. E. Guidoboni (Bologna Catalogo 1989) 574–739. GCS Griechische Christliche Schriftsteller der ersten Jahrhunderte. I. Iasos W. Blümel ed. Die Inschriften von Iasos, 2 vols. (Bonn 1985). I. Strat. M.Ç. Sahin, Die Inschriften von Stratonikeia (Inschriften griechischer Städte aus Kleinasien 21–22. 1/2) (Bonn 1981–82). IvE H. Wankel ed., Inschriften von Ephesos, 8 vols (Bonn 1979–84). IvS J. Nollé, Side in Altertum: Geschichte und Zeugnisse 2 vols (IK 44) (Bonn 2001) IAph 2007 http://insaph.kcl.ac.uk/iaph2007/index.html ICUR Inscriptiones Christianae urbis Romae ed. G.B. de Rossi (Rome 1857–88). IG Inscriptiones Graecae. IGLCM C.M. Lehmann and K.G. Holum, The Greek and Latin Inscriptions of Caesarea Maritima (Joint Expedition to Caesarea Maritima Excavation Reports 5) (Boston 2000). IGLS Inscriptions grecques et latines de la Syrie. IGUR Inscriptiones graecae urbis Romae ed. L. Moretti (Rome 1968–1990) 4 vols. IGR R. Cagnat, Inscriptiones Graecae ad res Romanas pertinentes (Paris 1901–27). IHC A. Hübner ed., Inscriptiones Hispaniae Christianae (Berlin 1871). IK Inschriften Griechischer Städte aus Kleinasien. ILAfr R. Cagnat, A. Merlin, L. Chatelain edd., Inscriptions latines d’Afrique (Tripolitaine, Tunisie, Maroc) (Paris 1923).

xxii ILAlg ILCV ILPBardo

H.C. Pflaum et al., Inscriptions latines de l’Algérie, 4 vols. (Paris 1922–2003). E. Diehl, Inscriptiones Latinae Christianae veteres, 4 vols. (Berlin 1961–67). Z. Benzina ben Abdallah, Catalogue des inscriptions latines paiennes du musée du Bardo (CEFR 92) (Rome 1986). ILS H. Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae, 3 vols. in 5 (Berlin 1892–1916). ILTun A. Merlin, Inscriptions latines de la Tunisie (Paris 1944). IRT J.M. Reynolds and J.B. Ward-Perkins edd., Inscriptions of Roman Tripolitania (Rome 1952) IvE AA.VV., Die Inschriften von Ephesos, 8 vols. (Bonn 1979–84). IvM A. Rehm ed., Inschriften von Milet 1 (Milet 6.1) (Berlin 1997); P. Herrmann, W. Günther and N. Ehrhardt edd., Inschriften von Milet 3 (Milet 6.3) (Berlin 2006). IvP S. Şahin ed., Die Inschriften von Perge (Bonn 1999). Lep. C. Lepelley, Les cités de l’Afrique romaine au bas-empire, vol. 2: notices d’histoire municipale (Paris 1981). LBIRNA A. Saastamoinen, The Phraseology of Latin Building Inscriptions in Roman North Africa (Commentationes humanarum litterarum 127) (Helsinki 2010). Key catalogue is available at www.helsinki.fi/hum/kla/htm/Appendices1and2.pdf (last accessed September 2016). LRP Hayes LRP J.W. Hayes, Late Roman Pottery (London 1972). LSA Oxford Last Statues of Antiquity Project: http://laststatues.classics.ox.ac.uk/ LTUR Lexicon Topographicum Urbis Romae (1993–2000) Mansi G.D. Mansi ed., Sacrorum Conciliorum: Nova et Amplissima Collectio, 53 vols. (Graz 1901–27 repr. 1960–61). MGH AA AA.VV. edd., Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Auctores antiquissimi, 15 vols. (Berlin 1877–1919). MGH SRG Monumenta Germaniae historica: Scriptores rerum Germanicorum 78 vols. MGH SRM Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Scriptorum rerum Merovingicarum, 7 vols. (Berlin 1885–1920). P. Cair. transcribed by E. Heitsch ed., Die griechischen Dichterfragmente der römischen Maps. Kaiserzeit (I Abhandlungen der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Göttingen 2.67183 Philo.-hist. Kl. 3, 49) (Göttingen 1961) 128–29. I could not locate the original publication. PCBE Prosopographie chrétienne du Bas-Empire (1982–) P. Lips Griechische Urkunden der Papyrussammlung zu Leipzig. P. Oxy. The Oxyrhynchus Papyri (Graeco-Roman Memoirs) (London 1898–present). PG J.-P. Migne ed., Patrologiae cursus completus. Series Graeca, 17 vols. (1860–94). PL J.-P. Migne ed., Patrologiae cursus completus. Series Latina, 221 vols. (1844– 1904). PLRE A.H.M. Jones, The Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire, 3 vols. (Cambridge 1971–92). PO Patrologia Orientalis, 43 vols. (Paris and Turnhout 1907–86). PPO Praefectus praetorio Orientis. RADR University of Southampton Roman Amphorae: a digital resource, 2005 (updated 2014) http://archaeologydataservice.ac.uk/archives/view/amphora_ ahrb_2005/. RIC 1 C.H.V. Sutherland, The Roman Imperial Coinage, Vol. I, From 39 BC to AD 69 (London 1984). RIC 6 C.H.V. Sutherland and R.A.G. Carson, The Roman Imperial Coinage Vol. VI: From Diocletian’s Reform (A.D. 294) to the Death of Maximinus (A.D. 313) (London 1967).

Abbreviations

xxiii

Abbreviations RIT RPC 1

SEG SLRP Stichel

Tantillo / Bigi TAQ TPQ W. Chr.

G. Alföldy ed., Die Römischen Inschriften von Tarraco (Madrider Forschungen 10) (Berlin 1975). A. Burnett, M. Amandry and P.P. Ripollès, Roman Provincial Coinage I: From the Death of Caesar to the Death of Vitellius (44 BC–AD 69) (London 1992 and supplement) Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum. J.W. Hayes, A Supplement to Late Roman Pottery (London 1980). R.H.W. Stichel, Die römische Kaiserstatue am Ausgang der Antike. Untersuchungen zum plastischen Kaiserporträt seit Valentinian I. (364–375 n. Chr.) (Rome 1982). I. Tantillo and F. Bigi edd., Leptis Magna. Una città e le sue iscrizioni in epoca tardoromana (Cassino 2010). Terminus ante quem. Terminus post quem. L. Mitteis and U. Wilcken, Grundzüge und Chrestomathie der Papyruskunde, I Bd. Historischer Teil, II Hälfte Chrestomathie (Leipzig-Berlin 1912).

The Writing of This Book It is fashionable in the United Kingdom for scholars to be self-aware, or at least conscious of the cultural biases of others. Thus, I feel it is necessary to present some background on myself as an academic writer, and on how this volume came into being. The perspectives worked out in this book undoubtedly reflect the time I spent as an undergraduate at Durham, a doctoral student at Nottingham, and especially as a Master’s student at Oxford, under Bryan Ward-Perkins and John Lloyd. My balance of interests was formed in studying Mediterranean late antique archaeology at Oxford in 1995–96, something that was not then possible elsewhere. The resulting study is also partly a product of working abroad, and thus reflects the priorities and standards of different academic cultures. Yet, the combination of influences found within this monograph is still particular. During ten years outside of the UK, I did not often find the international scholarly culture which I sought. Rather, I found a series of national academic cultures, each as over-confident as my own. Those who seek to cross over such gaps can find themselves on an intellectual journey in which there are few fellow-travellers, standing on a bridge alone. Once back in England, I found that not everything I had absorbed abroad was understood, and that little of it was valued. As a result, this book was written mainly in isolation, both social and intellectual, the result of financial constraints and cultural obstacles, as well as of my own choices. Thus, the scholarship presented here may satisfy only a small number of readers. It is synthetic in an English style, but lacks the theoretical preoccupations which now characterise much Anglo-Saxon scholarship. It is close to the sources, as is Franco-German work, but is not rooted in philology, which continental Byzantinists often see as the only real business of proper scholars. It is still concerned with ancient terms and ideas but sets these within a framework of concepts which were not always formulated in the ancient world. It considers stratigraphy and archaeological dating, but omits such technical discussions from the main text, lest they impede the flow of argument. It does consider architecture, but not architectural decoration. In fact, it is more concerned with the study of ‘building’ (dimensions, phases, and dating) rather than aesthetics. This is an interest which comes from talking about construction with archaeologists, rather than with architectural historians. To continental readers who prefer evidential commentaries over historical syntheses, this book may appear superficial, even if its appendices will not. In contrast, my ‘theoretically-led’ Anglo-Saxon colleagues

will find the absence of theoretical references unsettling, although I do not believe the framework I have adopted excludes those of others. It may be difficult to situate this book intellectually, to determine quite where it belongs. The ‘human science’ which I practice is the interdisciplinary study of the ancient world, organised by historical themes rather than by source types. This approach is not always welcomed in Classics, where disciplinary boundaries are wellguarded. Yet, I was taught at university in this manner, in taking a degree in Ancient History and Archaeology at Durham in 1991–94. There, the discipline of ‘Ancient History’ (in translation) considered a greater range of materials than those which could be covered in original languages, whilst Archaeology encouraged me to study the reconstruction of society rather than focus on any one type of source. My interest in asking broad historical questions comes from the same inspiration. I do not admire scholarship that seeks ever finer nuances whilst neglecting to contribute to the big picture. To me, data only has significant historical meaning when examined in the light of specific questions. Therefore, I do not consider historical writing to be a secondary ‘interpretation’ of archaeological evidence or to be an afterthought to philology, but rather to be my primary task. This may reflect English distrust of ‘bookish’ intellectuals. We do not respect experts, but rather those who can resume complex subjects quickly: ‘If you can’t explain it clearly, then you don’t understand it yourself’. We are encouraged to write for droopy-eyed undergraduates, rather than for colleagues. As a result, my main text contains many sections where I try to say the least possible about a subject, without exhausting all avenues. Odd, when viewed from the CNRS, but not from a British university. It is unavoidable for me to admit a moral dimension in my approach. This might have some scholars reaching for the sick bucket. But, to me this is entirely natural. It has informed the scope of the book, driven by a concern that my research is accountable socially and financially to those who pay for it. On the one hand, I feel that there has been far too much digging without synthesis, so that we neither understand what we dig, nor do we contribute properly to narratives of the period. Widely-read accounts of Late Antiquity are even now often written by those with little ability or interest in archaeology. What ought to be science is rather leisure, and it does not seem to bother scholars whose reports, produced by expensive excavations, pile up unread. On the other hand, I believe that the intellectual parameters of one site, one region, or one aspect of ancient urbanism do not represent a

The Writing of This Book

defensible area of expertise either within or beyond the university. They are perhaps not ‘too vast to be studied’, but ‘too small to bother with’. There was a time when classical culture was seen as the only civilisation from which European liberal values could draw, and as the only ‘other’ worth studying. The legacy of this attitude can be seen in many Classics departments across the Western world, despite a bit of postmodern gloss. Yet we now live in a multi-polar world, where a deep knowledge of classical civilisation, or even exclusive knowledge of European literature, does not constitute an education to outside observers. Rather, it can seem like a closing of the mind, a narrowing of vision which makes interactions with other traditions more difficult. I do not buy this myself: there was something special about Greece, that sets it apart. But we do need to look outward, to synthesise and characterise the ancient world, no matter how difficult that might be, so that it might find its true significance in comparative history and anthropology. ‘Know Thyself’ still holds true, but we must ‘Know Others’ too, or at least generate a broader perspective on ourselves. It is not my wish to expel Classical Studies from the Academy, but rather to secure its future against such moves. My formal academic training did not focus on ancient languages. It was always more important to me to work on modern languages and on issue-focused ancient history. Nevertheless, I have studied some Latin and Greek, most recently thanks to grants from my Marie Curie fellowship, John Beale, and my parents. I have taken epigraphy classes in both languages, though this has equipped me mainly to read formulaic texts. Papyrology is still a foreign land to me, although I pillage it where I can. I have had experience of excavation, as a digger at sites in the UK, France, Italy, the Czech Republic, and Bulgaria, as a staff member at Sagalassos (Turkey) 2004–2006, and as a director at Ostia, from 2008–2012. The latter experience has left its mark, as it helped me acquire a more critical view of archaeological reports. A great deal of my time has also been spent visiting well-preserved Mediterranean sites, which has been the highlight of my years in academic archaeology. The vocabulary and themes of investigation for my work have come from Anthropology, Geography, and Politics, as often as from Ancient History and Archaeology. I see myself as neither a positivist nor apost-modernist, rather as owing something to both approaches, and to others. My work is not necessarily trying to produce a hard answer, in characterising the late antique city. I feel there is room for both justified impressions based on evidence, and for carefully-supported conclusions, if we acknowledge what they are. The former are very necessary when using

xxv fragmentary data, such as texts created by authors who never intended to produce fodder for ancient historians. My working methods draw on the varied disciplines which I have encountered. For a classicist I am something of a fraud: I work with ancient texts in translation and then check original texts in Latin and Greek, I confirm odd important words in Syriac with specialists. In terms of epigraphy, I rely on the works of great scholars such as Feissel and Lepelley for difficult readings and dating. In terms of archaeology, I visit urban sites wherever possible to make my own observations. Like many scholars before me, I make photographic observations of walls, doodles, very minor inscriptions, gameboards etc., in areas of sites open to the public, recorded without using a scale. I do not regard these as requiring special permission, as they are often visible on web-based tourist photos. Of course, I did have permission to make such observations as part of my research at Sagalassos and Ostia. The sites which I know about come to my attention from the regional syntheses, site guidebooks, and accessible journals. I do not always have a detailed knowledge of what is published or kept in archives at a local level. Thus, in Gaul and Germany, the lack of recent overviews of archaeological discoveries makes my knowledge patchy, as it probably is for southern Italy. I cite pottery from archaeological reports when dating buildings but rely on colleagues for knowledge of recent changes in chronology for individual wares. I tend to prefer dating offered by archaeological sources, though here it is necessary still to be critical: too many synthetic works have been published on the late antique city, which accept dates given in preliminary reports as correct, without further comment, rather than evaluating the basis on which they depend. I do not draw on architectural history very often: I have no confidence in the dating of buildings on stylistic grounds, except in very rare cases, when parallels are from well-dated monuments in major cities that were likely to have influenced others. I see my own work as an unintended continuation of a tradition of British Mediterranean Roman Archaeology. This was begun by the African exile of John Ward-Perkins, a director of the British School at Rome, who could not initially dig in Italy, due to the after-effects of war. Of course, there is no direct continuity between their works and my text: JWP and Richard Goodchild died long before I was active. Of their co-workers and disciples, I only spoke twice to Tim Potter, and once to Barri Jones, although John Humphreys has shared a few kind emails with me. Neither were five months spent studying at Oxford with John Lloyd, nor encounters with John Hayes and Simon Ellis at conferences, long enough to

xxvi constitute transfer. Indeed, I did not intend to follow the path they laid out. Yet, I now feel that my work belongs to this seam of practice, with its emphasis on methodology and international fieldwork, and not to the more introspective school of Theoretical Roman Archaeology, for which engagement abroad often inspires worries about colonialism. I long admired the theoretical current in archaeological thought and hoped for a synthesis between fieldwork-led discovery in the Mediterranean and conceptual reflection, as exemplified by the career of David Mattingly. But I have now become sceptical of Theory, after seeing so many withdraw from excavation: to me it looks like a poor substitute for empirical scholarship. I have also found many theoreticians to be overtly politicised and unwilling to co-exist with those with different leanings. Instead, I find myself banging on about Method, in the manner of scholars now departed. This book is nonetheless a lesson on the ability of the written word to maintain an academic tradition, even if reduced to a single voice. Some roots can grow back from a mere fragment, and this is true of ideas, no matter how dry they get. If I had to define ‘influences’ in my work, derived from authors I have read, I would guess the most significant are: A.H.M. Jones (for clarity), Peter Brown (for perspective), Beatrice Caseau (for the potential of patristics), Andrew Poulter (for dating), and Jean-Pierre Sodini (for interdisciplinary synthesis). I cannot claim to be anything but an imitator of these writers. My best teacher was Bryan Ward-Perkins, whilst the kindness and erudition of Cyril and Marlia Mango also influenced me in the one year I spent at Oxford. Settlement geographers and archaeologists who taught me at school and university also gave me many interests. Nonetheless, I have not been exposed to studies of urbanism or settlement geography at a high level, beyond the fragments borrowed by archaeologists. Despite my disjointed wanderings, I have benefitted from some intellectual friendships, especially with Wolfgang Liebeschuetz, Claude Lepelley, Catherine Saliou, Wolfgang Thiel, Simon Ellis, Sauro Gelichi, Sebastian Rascon, Toon Putzeys, Will Bowden, and Nikos Karydis. All these people have influenced me in some way, as have the written works of Albrecht Berger and Franz Alto Bauer. David Hunt introduced me to Late Antiquity at Durham, although I thumbed the pages of Gibbon as a child, thanks to my godmother Helen Bardsley. My knowledge of field archaeology began on inheriting a few books from my grandfather, George Whitton, in 1984, who had a keen amateur interest and had allowed a dig on his farm in 1973. He had first experienced archaeology at Delphi in 1917, whilst convalsecing from wounds, as an administrator on the military road being built between Amphissa and Bralo.

The Writing of This Book

A further spark undoubtedly came from my mother’s memories of her year as an assistante d’Anglais at the lycée of Vaison-la-Romaine in the early 1960s. Finally, my paternal grandmother made contributions to my development which are too great to resume here. If I have an active intellectual agenda, it is perhaps to imagine the late antique city from the perspective of those who experienced it. I also seek to broaden our understanding of these communities beyond the study of religious space. After all, even a religious mind might find that its task lies beyond the walls of sacred buildings. I have been asked ‘why study the everyday? Surely it is just for children and museums?’ Well, to me, it is the cultural anthropology of the past, the most essential of human matters, from which comparisons to other periods can be made. It is also the background of all ‘higher deeds’. We need to know the material and behavioural world in which our ancient texts were set in order to read them properly. But I also feel it is good that what I have to say is sometimes banal. Late Antiquity was another world to ours but was not exotic. It was not especially full of anorexic virgins, rabid monks, nor of barbarian looters. Most of the time nothing unusual happened: people grew up, went to work, got married, drank hot wine, marked the seasons, and mourned the departed. This is not to say that the transition to the Middle Ages was peaceful or untraumatic. Rather, it is to assert that there was a substantial period of cultural continuity in the Mediterranean from ca. AD 300 to 600, in which urban life generally continued to develop in the ways it had in the previous three hundred years or so. Changes in building priorities and urban form came only slowly, punctuated by periods when change might be very rapid. We ought to shout ‘continuity’ as often as we shout ‘transformation’ in late antique studies, an issue I will take up in the first chapter. Could this push for continuity conceal something unwholesome in my reasoning? Why focus on social and political space? My work might be seen as an attempt to secularise the Urbs Christiana at a time when it was coming into being. Well, personally, I have no appetite for anti-clericalism. I have only a desire to reconstruct the wider society within which religious behaviour existed. To me, this context allows one to evaluate its relative significance, alongside other elements of urban life. I should probably admit to being a cultural pluralist, sceptical of the claims of enlightenment secularism, and suspicious of the political universalism that accompanies it. From my experience of life and reading of history, I simply do not see organised religion as inimical to the proper operation of public institutions. It can be, but it doesn’t have to be. Whether these views affect my analysis of urban life is a matter for others. Admittedly,

The Writing of This Book

in moments of self-indulgence, I sometimes think that I would not have minded living in the East, under Theodosius II or Anastasius. If pressed, I can admit that Late Antiquity seems a more attractive cultural reference point than the Middle Ages, for contemporary Christians, of which I am one. Yet, I feel no need to hide the warts of the period, which were many. A critic might suggest that my religious identity discourages me from recognising institutional and economic decay. However, I feel my views on ‘decline’ are nuanced by the attention I pay to regional chronologies where links to religious change are postulated. They are also balanced by my scepticism on religion as a motor for ‘positive’ economic or political development. I do not think that Christianity made West Romans poor or that it made East Romans rich. The prose in this book is self-consciously flat. In my academic work, I have undoubtedly taken up some of the interests of my mother, a literary type, but have studied them in the manner of my father, a scientist. This is not a claim to hard objectivity but is just a remark on style. Like many archaeologists, I am a more concrete than reflective, tied up in doing. My text also reflects northern flatfooted social-democratic influences: if I could write clearer, simpler sentences, I would. The result is a kind of municipal English, which explains rather than convinces. The bibliography found in this work is not intended to be exhaustive. Rather, it is my best attempt to grasp the subject of public space in the late antique city, within a literature that is both constantly growing and hard to access uniformly. In truth, this book covers a topic that cannot ever be finished, in an exhaustive sense. Every year, more archaeological material emerges. So, this volume need not wait longer than the eighteen years I have spent on it. There are no financial, moral, or professional grounds for continuing it further. One reason why I have delayed the publication so long is the nature of Ine Jacob’s monograph on Aesthetic Maintenance of Civic Space: The ‘Classical’ City from the 4th to the 7th c. AD (Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta 193) (Leuven 2013), which covers many of the same topics. Of her book, I have seen a contents page posted on the internet. Otherwise, I have decided not to read it until I finish, as my overlap with that study results from an unsuccessful attempt at academic collaboration. The appearance of this book encouraged a major re-conception of my own work, which was at that stage being page set, although not complete in its appendices. I completed the re-designed study in Autumn 2017, although crossreferencing dragged on as I returned to teaching in 2018. People sometimes ask me what relationship exists between my text and Ineʼs book, so here I offer an

xxvii explanation. After three years of working on the topic, I recast a British Academy post-doc proposal at the invitation of Marc Waelkens for Leuven in June 2003, Urban Public Space in the Late Antique East: Sagalassos in Context. However, a few weeks later, I obtained a Humboldt fellowship in Cologne. I deferred my entry to Leuven by one year and a half. In January 2004, when I renewed my application, I was told that final year undergraduate student Ine Jacobs was now working under Marc on a PhD proposal to begin September 2004 on the use and transformation of public space (political buildings, squares, streets, porticoes, baths, theatres) from the 4th to the 7th c. A.D.. As a compromise, before joining the team, I suggested a parallel topic for Ine, studying much of the same evidence, on ‘urban aesthetics’ which she then adapted. I fully consented to this arrangement. Sadly, it did not work out as intended. Perhaps inevitably, overlap developed, in a manner I had not anticipated. As Ineʼs articles and book appeared, I realised that I would need to rethink. My reaction has been to disregard my manuscript as it was finished in 2013 and to return to the data for a more critical primary reading. This process has produced the appendices, from which I have rewritten the chapters. Thus, I feel I have reached my conclusions independently and that they have value as such. I hope that the result is that readers will enjoy two very different perspectives, one by Ine, the other by myself. The high merit of her many publications is of course now clear to all. Long may it continue. I will reserve discussion of our results to another occasion. Occasionally, I have also stepped over published works by other scholars, but for different reasons. The great works of Claude (1969) and Bauer (1996) provided me with inspiration and, especially in the latter case, references to examine. Regrettably, my German was not sufficiently developed for these works to become a strong influence until after I had formed my own views. I did not appreciate the chronological span of Jouffroy (1986), extending from the Republic to the 4th c., until I reached proofs. In other synthetic works, the depth of study or source base is often different from my own, so I prefer to discuss the positions of scholars in book reviews, rather than argue with different interpretations in my own chapters. H. Deyʼs The Afterlife of the Roman City: Architecture and Ceremony in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages (Cambridge 2015) appeared too late for me to address within these pages. I feel my analysis of the data is distinctive in its character and so its own conclusions have merit. In an ideal world authors would be able to work on parallel topics, not at cross-purposes: research is more productive when organised noncompetitively. Of course, some scholarly overlap develops in collaboration when one party is too slow (as I

xxviii am). Others occur by chance, as many minds think alike, or from the varied results of academic partnerships, which are always difficult to get right. In the end, originality is hard to find, and, of course, no-one ever ‘owns’ a topic. Difficulties are compounded in collaborations across national academic systems, such as I attempted as a postdoc. At Leuven, my efforts to bring new field methods, digital archiving, and single author parallel collaboration via LAA did not endure. Initially supported, they fell out of favour as I left. Nonetheless, the spirit in which they were offered and first received remains in my memory. It was that of Europe. The abbreviations used in this volume are those of Late Antique Archaeology, which follows the American Journal of Archaeology for journals, and the Oxford Classical Dictionary, then A.H.M. Jones The Later Roman Empire, then Lampe Greek Patristic Lexicon, for source abbreviations. The spellings of places are modern for western Europe, Latin for Africa and northern Illyricum, and Greek for the East, except when English equivalents are widely employed. ‘Antioch’ always refers to Antioch in Syria, except when stated otherwise. The appendices usually give a range of dates, with termini post quem and ante quem. I use chronological mid-points for numerical calculations, except when generic dates to Late Antiquity are all we have. I usually take the presence of reused architectural blocks to indicate a date after the mid 3rd c. when unreworked facings, or diverse colours, are visible in the wall face, regardless of whether the wall was finally plastered or veneered. This is a subtle difference with the more careful reuse of building materials seen in earlier centuries. I see this form of spolia use as being largely characteristic of the late antique period. My use of ‘Early Imperial’ is intended to refer to the time from Augustus’ victory at Actium in 31 BC to the accession of Diocletian in AD 284, whilst ‘Late Antiquity’ designates the time from the latter event until the fall of Egypt to the Islamic army in AD 640. ‘Late Roman’ refers to life within the boundaries of the empire during this time, whilst I prefer ‘Reconquest’ to ‘Byzantine’ as an adjective to describe post-Justinianic Africa. I use the PLRE and PCBE frequently but have not fully mastered

The Writing of This Book

all their addenda and corrigenda. I take date calibrations for chronicles from recent editions, but sometimes neglect to record all possible mentions of a given event, copied between such sources. I have not usually queried dates given in editions for letters. I do not give sources for the dates of major battles / invasions / global events or the dates of reigning emperors, popes etc. Part of the scholarship in this book has appeared previously: the first fora / agorai chapter and the shops chapter were published, as two articles in 2006 and 2012, but without the discussion of architecture and statuary, or the appendices presented here: “Fora and agorai in Mediterranean cities: fourth and fifth centuries A.D.”, in Social and Political Life in Late Antiquity, edd. W. Bowden, C. Machado and A. Gutteridge (Late Antique Archaeology 3) (Leiden 2006) 195–249; “From polis to emporion? retail and regulation in the late antique city”, in Trade and Markets in Byzantium, ed. C. Morrisson (Washington D.C. 2012) 333–77. In all cases of overlap, the chapters have been substantially extended, to fully incorporate new information, especially as regards the dating of building works. As such, my earlier articles are now superseded. I am grateful to Cécile Morrisson, to Dumbarton Oaks, and to Brill, for allowing me to do this. All readers should note the further acknowledgements to the Oxford Last Statues of Antiquity database, contained within the appendices. No-one should rely on a date or measurements from the main text without first consulting the relevant appendix to see what basis they have. Some measurements were taken on site, or derived from a report, whilst many are rough handmeasurements from a plan. The variability in standards of measurements for space and time is one of the most regrettable aspects of current archaeological workpractice, an issue which is discussed in the foreword to the appendices. Only in a few cases, when events do not relate to building works, does one find archaeological dating in the footnotes of the main text. Chaucer Fields, Canterbury October 2013, revised September 2019

The Writing of This Book

figure 01 Reconstruction of Round Plaza of Gerasa, ca. AD 400 Copyright Will Foster / VLAC team, University of Kent

figure 02 Reconstruction of the Foro della statua eroica, Ostia, AD 387 Copyright Will Foster / VLAC team, University of Kent

xxix

Introduction The Late Antique City: Change or Decline? The debate about the late antique city is still very much open. To some scholars it is a period in which classical urbanism was gradually lost, replaced by a closed and materially poorer form of city which hardly deserved the name, shaped predominantly by war and religion.1 To others, the period saw a last renewal of the ancient urban form in which distinct and innovative strands emerged that connect the Roman city to those of later periods.2 My sympathies are decidedly with the latter view, although it does depend on the region and centuries one might be referring to. Simply put, I see cities expanding, contracting, stagnating, or disappearing, at the same time in different regions of the late antique world, in any given century. I have expressed this visually in a series of maps (figs. A1–4). There is a broad story of decline to be told for the mid 5th c. West and for the 7th c. East, though such widespread changes are not seen in the late antique Mediterranean at other times. Thus, I am perfectly at ease with the existence of fortress cities on the frontier, or of some cities being given up whilst others prospered in the same region. But my focus is on times and regions where there was a strong degree of continuity in the institutional forms and physical realities of Roman urban centres. This may seem a little odd, to some working in the Balkans or in the north of Europe, but it is not very controversial elsewhere. As a consequence, I do not present a justification on this occasion, other than that which is obvious from the details of the main text. If I were to characterise the evolution of the late antique city in general terms, I would briefly describe it as follows. The urban development of the late 3rd to the early 7th c. can be divided into two zones: firstly, a frontier area of varying extent, in which the classical city shrank or failed, being replaced by small fortified castra lacking traditional public buildings; secondly, an interior region, in which classical cities retained both their size and their monuments. This division does not always make sense as some areas close to the frontier escaped depredation, whilst others deep within the interior were touched by war. Nonetheless, a division 1  Classical urbanism lost during the 4th to 6th c.: esp. Liebeschuetz (2001); Saradi (2006). This is a distinct debate from that on the crash of the late antique city in the 7th c., memorably argued by e.g. Ostrogorsky (1959), since when clear archaeological evidence of this crash has become commonplace. 2  Renewal of urban forms: Claude (1969); Potter (1995); WardPerkins (1996); Mango (M.M.) (2000).

of the empire into two separate urban worlds broadly holds true. Within the interior, private benefaction almost disappeared in the 3rd c. (in response to imperial centralisation), and the revenues of local government were depressed by inflation and official confiscation. The result was that civic building was generally about repair, except in provincial capitals where new public buildings could be found. The imperial capitals are entirely different, being funded through taxation revenues. These centres stand out in terms of investment and population growth, whatever region they are located in. Both Rome and Constantinople were ‘super cities’, above even this level, dominating their respective hinterlands. Within the Mediterranean interior region, secular public building continued until ca. AD 430, resuming in the East from the last quarter of the 5th c., a story better traced from archaeology than from either laws or from inscriptions. During Late Antiquity, there were numerous fashions in public and private building, revealed by peaks and troughs in construction. There are times of investment and dearth, for different types of public building (in chronological order): for temples, for political buildings, for nymphaea, for fortifications, and for street porticoes. The same patterns can be seen in private building work, with investment first in houses, then in shops and churches. It is important to note that the Church does not seem to have grown at the expense of civic revenues in the 4th–5th c., but rather from private patronage, including that of the Res Privata, the patrimonial fund of emperors. Investments in different types of building had different timescales, and none particularly presaged the end of the city. A framework of law and civic government continued as long as densely-populated cities continued to exist. There is some evidence that smaller cities lost out to large and medium sized neighbours, in Spain, Italy, Greece, and parts of Asia Minor, although this was far from being a universal process. Even here, the worst that seems to have happened is that their elites intermarried and went to live elsewhere, sometimes moving to Rome or Constantinople, or to the local provincial capital. Such small cities continued as population centres and market towns, being joined by an increasing number of small towns or ‘bourgades’, in some regions. It is true to say that the Church achieved preeminence in the late antique city by around AD 500, both in terms of monumental building and in terms of culture. Yet, whilst traditional city councils disappeared by the middle of the 5th c., the public services they provided endured under new committees of notables, alongside

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004423824_002

2

Introduction

expansion stagnation recession disappearance

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figure a1 Trajectories in Mediterranean Urbanism: AD 350

expansion stagnation recession disappearance

figure a2 Trajectories in Mediterranean Urbanism: AD 450

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3

Introduction

expansion stagnation recession disappearance

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figure a3 Trajectories in Mediterranean Urbanism: AD 550

expansion stagnation recession disappearance

figure a4 Trajectories in Mediterranean Urbanism: AD 650

4 the orphanages, retirement homes, and hospitals offered by the Church. Local civic pride remained an important part of urban culture in the period, seen in art and literary production, as much as in disputes over ecclesiastical precedence. Festivals reaching back into the pagan past were still animating civic theatres in the 6th c. East, as much as the more recently instituted Christian festivals which now enlivened the streets. In consequence, the physical appearance of Mediterranean cities in Late Antiquity was often only a subtly modified version of that seen in Early Imperial times. As such, urban life in this period deserves to be studied for its own sake and not just as part of a story of transition or decay. However, the present book is not a general treatment of all aspects of the late antique city: it is about the everyday behaviour of people in their public lives, in spaces where they were obliged to come together, rather than where they choose to come together. Everyday Life in the Late Antique City So, what actually happened in the late antique city, at a human level? How did people live their daily lives during the 4th to 6th c. AD in such places as Carthage, Ostia, Ephesus, Edessa, or Jerusalem? These questions have preoccupied me ever since reading Tim Potter’s book in 1995: Towns in Late Antiquity, which was then easy to obtain, whereas Die byzantinische Stadte of Claude was not. I found some answers to my questions in Wolfgang Liebeschuetz’s work on Antioch, in the monographs of others on Edessa and Alexandria, and in the hagiographic anecdotes which illustrate Peter Brown’s works.3 Yet, most of these books tended towards civic, institutional, or sociological histories, and I did not find within them a systematic account of daily spatial behaviours.4 I became equally frustrated with macro-settlement history (favoured by archaeologists), as a way of understanding the late antique city. Broad changes in physical topography are stimulating up to a point. They do give one a sense of long-term physical evolution and conceptual spatial organisation, but it is from a perspective that was not really available to people who actually lived in and shaped the city during the period. Cartographic studies of Topographie chrétienne or Profantopographie and architectural studies of buildings give one facts 3  Potter (1995); Claude (1969); Liebeschuetz (1972); Segal (1970); Haas (1997). Hagiographic anecdotes: e.g. Brown (1992); Brown (2002). 4  Saradi (2006) provides some spatial vignettes but they are shorter than mine, and more inclined to describe selected physical evidence than focus on behaviour.

Introduction

and figures, but can leave cities still very empty in comparison to scholarly reconstructions of Pompeii and Herculaneum.5 Thus, I feel that a study of everyday life is needed to put late antique city-dwellers at the centre of our discussions: to put people before processes, even if processes do still interest us. The aim of this book is to produce, for its own sake, a series of synthetic descriptions of idealised ‘human activity spaces’: of human behaviour in its material setting. Up to a point, this involves the study of architecture, as a frame for action, and involves the study of objects used in everyday activities. But my focus is the human actor, as expressed in the collective actions that characterised the daily rhythms of the late antique city. In so doing, I seek to tell the story of everyday life, a subject which can be approached in a number of ways, of which mine is just one. This effort is not undertaken to fill the pages of children’s books, important as that work is. Rather, I try to provide an overview of late antique urban behaviour which could form the basis for a reconstruction of Mediterranean cities in the 4th–6th c., partly through visualisation. The scope of my work means that, aside from looking at architecture and objects, I have spent a lot of time assembling literary texts and rather slight archaeological traces of human occupation. The latter are not well-represented in the published record: whether behavioural epigraphy, stone surface markings, nor the traces of late antique occupation in classical buildings constructed long before the period began. Equally, most of my efforts have been put into dating buildings to establish a general architectural timeframe for activities that is reasonably secure. There has been no time for a full study of micro-aesthetics, of mental landscapes of thoughts and feelings, of cultural meanings, or of urban biographies of individuals, each of which represents a legitimate part of the study of everyday life, as expressed in scholarship, art, or literature. Scholarship to Date The bibliography on the late antique city, and especially on individual sites, is now vast. I made an attempt to draw some of it together in 2001, as have Speiser and Saradi, and I co-authored a series of essays in 2007 which consider the copious primary evidence for everyday

5  Cartographic studies: Gauthier and Duval et al. (1986–2007); Bruhl (1975); Bruhl (1990). Lively accounts of Pompeii: Zanker (1988), Laurence (2007), Beard (2008).

5

Introduction

life.6 Debates on the economic and political nature of the later city, and its regional forms, are now welladvanced. However, synthetic studies of human spatiality within late antique cities are still relatively rare. Cyril Mango wrote an inspiring article based on the Life of St. Symeon the Fool in 1987, which highlighted the potential of patristic literature for the study of everyday life in this period, which a Princeton thesis of 1967 also addressed. Franz Alto Bauer authored a work on Rome, Ephesus, and Constantinople, which concentrated on ceremonial public space (streets and squares), building on the topographical research of Guilland, Janin, Mango, Berger, and others.7 Some scholars of patristics have also taken studies of liturgy beyond the church doors, describing processions in the street as part of stational liturgy.8 Yet there have been no wider monograph treatments of human space, only a modest number of articles, mainly concerned with domestic and ecclesiastical space.9 This is despite historical fiction having an appetite for everyday stories from the late antique period: in English, this writing has included Gathering Clouds: A Tale of the Days of St. Chrysostom by F.W. Farrar, Dean of Canterbury Cathedral in 1895, to Roger Graves’ Count Belisarius, and Evelyn Waugh’s Helena. Film has seen an equal interest, from 1950s epics on Constantine and Theodora, to Amenabar’s Agora, as well as B-movies, such as Nicholas of Myra and Augustine in the last decade. Artists have also produced self-consciously historical depictions of the period, from Baroque times onwards, with John Williams Waterhouse being amongst the most sensitive, making some attempt to capture contemporary furnishings and dress.10 Such reconstructions of everyday life have rarely drawn heavily on scholarly literature. Claims to authenticity surrounding Amenabar’s Agora or Antoine Fuqua’s King Arthur have rung very hollow. The application of research on material culture and clothing to reconstruction has generally been confined to museums 6  The bibliography on the late antique city: Lavan (2001c); Saradi (2006) 13–45; Speiser (2001). Everyday life, bibliography and key evidence: see essays by Putzeys and Lavan in Lavan, Swift and Putzeys (2007). 7  Synthetic studies of human spatiality: Mango (1981–82), which the thesis of Zani de Ferranti Abrahamse (1967) (not seen) also addressed. Rautman (2006) is broad brush, and not especially concerned with specific spatial behaviour. On Rome, Constantinople and Ephesus: Bauer (1996). 8  On interest in religious processions see e.g. Janin (1966) 73– 74; Baldovin (1987); Bauer (1996) 383–84; Berger (2001a) and (2001b). 9  On treatments of human space see Lavan, Swift and Putzeys (2007) esp. articles by Vroom, Parani and Caseau. 10  Literary fiction: Farrar (1895); Graves (1938); Waugh (1950). More serious: Ballaira (1989).

or historical re-enactment groups, amongst the most serious of which is Comitatus in the UK.11 Specialised discussion of everyday life within academic works has also tended to be limited to imperial palaces, large houses, churches, monasteries, and forts. ‘Secular’ aspects of late antique cities, their political and public social life, have rarely seen much attention. Remarks pertinent to everyday life have tended to emerge in the form of interpretive comments and descriptions of material culture and architecture. This is acceptable up to a point. Certainly, such sources lend themselves to an appreciation of ancient materiality. But with so much of the physical world made from organic materials, we seem here to have only a partial perspective. Furthermore, many buildings from earlier centuries were reused and reoccupied in Late Antiquity. It is far from clear that the study of newly-built period architecture from the 4th– 6th c. equates with a history of late antique urban space, if it ever could.12 Lots of human activities are not visible to archaeology, neither in architecture nor in material culture, or are not immediately visible without some reflection. Thus, I feel my study as presented here is justified in terms of research done so far within the subject. Spatial Theory? I must confess I am not very attracted to a revolutionary model of academic life, in which a young scholar applies new perspectives and considers what went before to be theoretically deficient. I certainly do wish to challenge old models and build new ones. I can see the value of spatial theory in opening up new ways of seeing cities. But, I feel that its development in Anglo-Saxon scholarship, especially in archaeology, has sometimes taken place at a pace that outstrips its ability to undertake detailed case studies which fully explore the implications of new ideas. I also feel little attraction for an epistemology of the subject which encourages iconoclasm for the sake of iconoclasm, rather than respects the cumulative efforts of many hands, working towards a better understanding of the past. I especially wrinkle when acceptance into academic clubs depends upon knowledge of doctrines and not on experience of evidence. Therefore, I have only applied to my work the theory which I felt the discipline was ready to absorb, and which could produce significant insights in the work that was in front of me. I see myself as a scholar, not as an intellectual, whose primary job is to write stories about the past, grounded 11  Historical reconstructions: Comitatus (www.comitatus.net, last accessed October 2013). 12  Architecture and urban spatiality: Lavan (2003a); Lavan (2003b).

6 in data analysed according to accepted evidential rules. Thus, the intellectual landscape I have to offer the reader is somewhat old-fashioned, when compared to work done on everyday life in Pompeii or on Early Modern material culture. I hope that other complementary insights into late antique spatiality will continue to develop inspired by different approaches. But in this study, I feel that my task is to lay the basic groundwork where little is known—concerning ‘what happened, where, and when’ in the late antique city—rather than to go much further. I set out my ‘theoretical stall’ in two articles, both published in 2003, which were anything but sophisticated.13 Little has changed since. I found for myself a profitable seam and have continued to mine it. In summary, my theory of space is focused on what people do—human behaviour in its material setting—and its cultural organisation into specific activity groups, as recognised by a collective society in which conflict over perception is mainly confined to some aspects of religion, and in which cultural norms are usually expressed in a common spatial language. My world is organised into praetoria, fora, iudicia, and pompae, some though not all of which have a distinctive architectural setting.14 Occasionally, I do add in a classification of my own, not used by ancient authors, such as ‘the punishment procession’, when I have detected a repetitive activity that has no name. At other times, I am obliged to use a modern term such as ‘monumental street’ when the textual sources are limited, and the archaeology is extensive. It is unfortunate that I have had to do this in my first chapter! More often, however, the spatial categories and concepts I use are those seen in ancient literature. This represents a deliberate choice on my part, to reject the use of methodology derived from social theory or literary criticism. I would like to get close to the (stated) motivations of ancient people in doing what they wanted to do, and I cannot see why this should not have pride of place in our discussions of intention in human action during the period. ‘Insider experience’ is best accessed through the rich Mediterranean literary sources that we have, which are neither hamstrung by genre, nor confined to the testimony of a lying elite, as some might imagine. So far, I have probably succeeded in stating the obvious, at least as far as continental readers are concerned. But, in the UK, it has become necessary to outline one’s knowledge of Lefebvre, Yi Fo Tuan, and other spatial intellectuals, to avoid being labelled as ‘theoretically 13  See n. 12. 14  For a similar acceptance of Roman literary sources as being a reasonably consistent basis to organise urban space see Kaiser (2011) 59–63.

Introduction

uninformed’. Thus, I have offered here a basic explanation to my English colleagues of why I have not taken this path. It is probably also prudent to point out that this book is self-consciously descriptive. I feel the late antique city is poorly understood and needs a spatial synthesis, which takes special account of chronology. I offer this as a foundation to build on, particularly in the field of visualisation. This book is not primarily an analytical work, in the manner of my PhD thesis on provincial capitals. Therefore, it may seem to some to lack a problematique, or burning issue to address. Instead, I have tried to chase culturally-specific research threads, occasionally oriented towards correcting misunderstandings in contemporary scholarship. Often, I have little to say that is exciting, but the journey is enriching. My work at least provides a background from which to evaluate controversial statements and ideas that hold the attention of undergraduate students and lay readers more readily. Nevertheless, the following themes are considered in the conclusion: the nature of urban continuity, of regional variation, and of the character of Constantinople. I then consider the significance of work to debates on the nature of late antique society, the impact of the Church on civic life, and on modern views of the late antique tradition. On none of these themes do I attempt a complete answer, as much pertinent evidence is found away from streets, squares, and shops, but rather present a provisional assessment based on the material presented, at this stage in my work. The Evidence This is a study that presents historical reconstructions and supporting facts. It is not a tome in which I explain all my working practices in detail, with the exception of dating. I do not explore in depth issues surrounding the formation of sources, as an end in itself. I may disappoint those ancient historians who squeeze very small amounts of textual evidence for many nuances. But it is necessary to permit synthesis. I did consider the generic problems of sources for everyday life in outline in the introduction to the edited volume Objects in Context, Objects in Use. I plan to address them again in another work, with more examples. Instead of repeating such remarks, I have examined the major evidential biases for each spatial type at the start of each chapter. Here, I will summarise the main issues that are pertinent to the book as a whole. The first and most significant problem is one of preservation: there is no late antique Pompeii. Rather, the sources for late antique urban life are widely spread geographically, even if they are impressive in quantity and survive better than those from the first

Introduction

three centuries AD on many sites. There are also some big chronological gaps, for certain activities and urban spaces, which might lead one to think they had ceased to exist, if it were not for much later texts confirming their survival, or clues in other source types. Unfortunately, archaeologists often find only abandonment traces from the last years of occupation, within buildings which have been occupied and swept for hundreds of years. It is not often that a disaster seals the activity of a house or a shop, but, when it does, the sites concerned are nearly always in the eastern Mediterranean. A second significant problem is the varied nature of the sources themselves, in their own formation processes. The history of secular architecture is a very indirect guide to behaviour. Which buildings were ‘white elephants’, built to satisfy the vanity and self-promotion of an emperor or council? Which were actually used? Some activities continued to use existing classical buildings rather than inhabit new ones, confining traces of occupation, if there are any, to redecoration. Other mundane activities such as street repair survive well, whilst street cleaning is much harder to trace. Equally, it is difficult to assess whether the presence / absence of public inscriptions or behavioural graffiti relates to local epigraphic habits or other processes. Texts are equally complex. Hagiographic texts were usually written for spiritual edification, not with history in mind, whilst speeches were composed to win competitions, beat opponents, or attract praise, according to specific canons and styles. Laws were often issued in response to very specific petitions and represent a normative idealised view of what the imperial court might like to happen rather than what actually did. Genre equally affects literary histories and even private letters. Even so, there can be a whole host of reasons for leaving a particular subject out of a text or representing it in a particular way which goes beyond genre, and into the personal choices and prejudices of the writer. If one were to be very rigorous, one might argue that almost nothing can be said about everyday life in Late Antiquity. The evidence is too scattered to permit a high level of confidence. In terms of architectural history, it is frequently true that one aspect of a problem can be studied in the West, and another only in the East, given the differential survival of physical evidence (e.g. street surfaces versus street architecture) and the different ability of archaeologists in East and West to record it. Some might also say the sources are too different to permit synthesis. They have different perspectives, different preoccupations, and different dates. Much is being written these days, in Anglo-Saxon universities especially, that stresses the complexity of sources, tending to suggest that the past is almost unknowable. Some revel in this predicament, as if it were some higher form of

7 enlightenment. Reception theory or deconstruction has become so central as to render manuscript work, epigraphic survey, or excavation both optional and dispensable. The academy slips into a world where facts now seem to serve to illustrate ideas that are believed to be self-evident. My scholarship has reacted against this. It may seem naive, but I have found that the most enriching part of my research has been to focus on specific historical problems, and to study pertinent evidence, with explicit methodology, data-up, not theory-down. This is not to believe that theory is unimportant, but that one understands it best through practice, rather than through elaborating concepts. On closer experience of the evidence, many of the concerns which scholars have about regional differences or source limitations seem to be over-stated. Many traces of evidence are better preserved in a class in one region than in another. They are regionally particular only on account of survival and can often be applied to another part of the empire where they are absent. Furthermore, the alleged elite bias in literary texts does not prevent factual information being recorded. Some sources such as speeches / sermons have been seriously underestimated for what they can tell us about everyday life. Not all are as politically-driven as Procopius, and even he is a more complex writer than is often claimed.15 Of course, an oration on Antioch by Libanius will present a positive view of his home city, but the details he provides elsewhere, on traffic accidents, or the location of schools, are unlikely to have been generated by his rhetorical strategy.16 There are also incidental details preserved in hagiography which were intended to provide a setting that was credible for a contemporary reader, rather than being designed to provoke spiritual illumination. On occasion, saints’ lives also provide information which is not available in more ‘reliable’ sources, or which might occur only once within them.17 The essential compatibility of different literary texts on everyday life has been underestimated in many areas. Perhaps we have done this to suit our own modern preferences, for a plurality of viewpoints, when so many subjective perspectives were in fact uncontroversial in ancient society.18 It might even be useful to accept the cultural biases of sources in our descriptions of life, rather than resist them, helping us to enter into the spirit of an age which is not our own. The legal evidence seems to be the most misunderstood and deserves a special mention. There was a time 15  Procopius as unusable rhetoric: Bowden (2007); Procopius as complex: AAVV (2008). 16  View of the city in Libanius (based on Or. 11): Francesio (2004). 17  Homilies as a source for everyday life: Mayer (1993). 18  Consensus in perspectives between men and women, though difference between normative and recorded behaviour: Lindblom (2001) 175, plus discussion during seminar.

8 when it seemed possible to paint a portrait of the late antique world simply by rearranging sections of the Theodosian Code according to its different headings or making use of the index in C. Pharr’s edition. Once a series of themes had been established, one might then go looking for epigraphy or even archaeology which could illustrate this legal ‘reality’.19 This method no longer looks credible. There are too many clear differences between traditional interpretations of legal evidence and archaeology on the ground, and even between the impressions gained from legal texts and those derived from papyri or saints’ lives. Fifty years ago, A. H. M. Jones believed that the Late Roman peasantry were mainly unfree serfs, in a miserable condition; fields were abandoned as agri deserti, especially in Africa; temple destruction was widespread; and the end of the curia meant the end of civic services in cities. Now all of these ideas can be contradicted by archaeology, and more recent studies of papyri and legal texts have also led to revisions. This does not bode well for urban descriptions based only on legal evidence. The lesson probably is that we need to lean away from the laws, unless we are sure that we have understood other evidence first. Unfortunately, there seems to be little appetite amongst scholars of legal codes for relativising the value of their material, which often seems so vivid and precise. Again, academics prefer to master small areas, rather than address historical issues from a panoply of evidence, with all its uncertainties. Reconciling clashes between sources opens up some important issues for us, that go beyond the doubts and different perspectives suggested by post-modernism. Textual scholars have sometimes pointed out to me that we have simply misunderstood the nature of the laws on agri deserti or on coloni, and just need to be more precise. They feel confident that ancient historians trained only in classical languages should not consider archaeology in advancing their historical understanding of government or of the economy. But their own doubts would probably not have arisen if archaeology had not first produced open contradictions. Rather, progress has been made through comparing and contrasting different sources, which are sufficiently complex (as both fragments and cultural artefacts) as to render meaningless precise arguments drawn out from one type of evidence. Thus, I feel that an interdisciplinary evaluation of sources for theme as a whole is the most important step, scrutinising each individual testimony in the light provided by the rest. This is especially important in studies of everyday life in the late antique city, where evidence is both copious 19  Rearranging the Theodosian Code: Abbott and Johnson (1926); Jones (1964). Archaeology illustrating legal reality: Kennedy (1985); Saradi (2006) of which this is my most serious criticism of an otherwise stimulating monograph, see Lavan (2009).

Introduction

and diverse for many topics: thus, for the study of the ‘daily round’ one might have poetry, letters, images, and historical texts to contend with, whilst for the study of shopping there are laws, hagiography, architecture, and artefacts. This is not just a question of improving our interpretation of individual pieces of evidence. It is about preferring a soft focus to a sharp one, on occasion, abandoning the safety of expertise in mastering single sources of evidence. Hagiographic sources, speeches, and even laws have a role to play in setting a background impression of the late antique city: focused not on one city or region, but on the whole east and central Mediterranean urban cultural area, from which a valid sense of the late antique city can emerge. One has to be clear when a source is being used in a suggestive manner or in a precise manner, but a lot can be gained from allowing different levels of precision to co-exist in the same argument. It also means making generalisations based on something as intangible as the ‘balance of evidence’. This might seem to be mixing the good up with the bad, rather like a British bank’s investment in toxic assets. But it is my experience that the value of individual sources for different types of historical question varies greatly and is not absolute. Their value is best assessed from attempts to use all sources together, regardless of the region they come from, rather than making dismissive statements derived from general principles. The evidence may be capable of telling us far more than we might have expected. Quite how we achieve this depends on the regional and chronological boundaries within which synthesis is carried out. In regional terms, my contention is that there was an urban koine in Late Antiquity across the Mediterranean ‘interior region’, in which common characteristics and trends were, overall, more significant than local regional variations. Thus, it does make sense to discuss ‘colonnaded streets’ rather than ‘Levantine colonnaded streets’. This may be controversial to some regional archaeologists, who build their reputations in one province, and who tend to stress variation. But my review of all the archaeology suggests what literature, law, and anecdotal tales of Late Antiquity describe: the existence of a common cultural space, in which many types of urban spaces or behavioural activities are widely attested, albeit not uniform in their distribution. It was not only bishops who had a communion of sees, or teachers who had an empire of letters. There was also a late antique urban style, of streets, plazas, regulated shops, baths, fortifications, and churches, which allows us to talk of the late antique Mediterranean city, rather than only of cities. I do appreciate the different experiences that a Spanish artisan had, of gravel roads and mudbrick walls, or those of a Balkan soldier guarding a brick and rubble

9

Introduction

stronghold. I can contrast both with the insights of an African school master, giving lessons under the shadow of high temples in a sandstone forum. Even in the East, the differences between the spolia-built colonnades of Asia Minor and the flashy new marble avenues of the Levant were still substantial. But there were still many urban characteristics that tied these regions together. Such commonalities are worth studying, if only to appreciate the real degree of divergence, of which regional specialists are often unaware. I do feel that this koine of Late Antiquity extends beyond common types of buildings, into a shared mindset. The number of people who could travel was very small. But we should not underrate the impact of those who did move about. The empire offered structures to those with the will to travel. A young Antiochene student like Libanius might go up to Athens, along with the flower of Eastern youth. Civic ambassadors could hop on a ship from Alexandria up to Constantinople. Soldiers might march around the Empire. Any person of means, from the level of curialis and above, was capable of some sort of voyage, on a trip to study in Beirut or Rome, on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, or in some professional capacity. They would have been changed by it. The stories that people carried were reinforced by correspondence, as can be seen from the archive of Libanius, who wrote to people around the East, or from Augustine, writing to contacts around the West. It can also be seen from books sent as gifts and loans, which such letters refer to. Urban catalogues or travelogues on the Holy Land, further communicated such ideas. Just as people could access a systematic knowledge of Roman law, via the late codices, so they could also form an idea of cities, via maps with icons, of which the Madaba mosaic is an expression. In chronological terms, I do not have much difficulty setting the end of the period, in different places at different times, between the 5th and 7th c. It came slowly or more quickly depending on the region. The end was slowest in Italy and Africa, but in many regions was quite sudden. A more significant difficulty is evaluating the start of the period from archaeological evidence. This is important if one wishes to establish the degree of late antique recovery and urban change in a given region. Yet, I can point to no full urban synthesis of all regions at the start of the period in AD 284, or even in 250, with which to compare developments during Late Antiquity. This is because the few books that do try to give an urban overview for the Roman Empire, or one part of it, inevitably opt to provide an overview of ‘the Roman city at its peak’, of no later than the time of Septimius Severus. It seems that no-one has produced a detailed account of how Roman cities dealt with the stresses of the mid-3rd c. It will suffice here to say that war and dislocation in

the 3rd c. are associated with profound changes in much of Gaul (the North, the Rhone Corridor, the North-West, the East), and on parts of the Danube and Syrian frontier. Libya and Attica were affected to lesser degrees. Other places remained largely untouched. What was left, when the dust settled, was an ‘alpha series’ of western provinces, where cities still held the aspect they had earlier: as mini-Romes, with a forum, capitolium, basilica, curia, theatre, and amphitheatre, incorporating some indigenous cults and landscape features. There was also an ‘alpha series’ of eastern provinces where the legacy of Greek and Hellenistic urbanism was still overwhelming, of agorai, bouleuteria, gymnasia, and temples, to which a few Roman-style monuments had been added, notably baths, enlivened by the increasing spread of colonnaded streets, from Alexandria or the Levant. A ‘beta series’ of regions, mainly on the frontier, struggled to recover any classical form at all after the 3rd c., in parts of Gaul especially, making way for the ‘fortress city’ urbanism, which developed in reaction to prolonged warfare, as outlined above. A few cites in the ‘alpha series’ also effectively came to an end in the 3rd c., but this was the result of long-term changes, far earlier in time, that are only slowly becoming visible. The Scope of the Topic There is much in this book about continuity in the life of the classical city. Indeed, my research has produced irritable reactions from some German scholars, who ask me: “what exactly are you trying to say?” or “what was new about the late antique city?” or “is this not just later Antiquity, rather than Late Antiquity?”. But in this matter, Anglo-Saxon scholarship is different. Disjuncture and transformation have been heavily stressed: dark earth overlies the forum; the streets are encroached by olive presses: the dead weight of elite culture peels away as a more vibrant and liberated city emerges. These images have almost become an orthodoxy on the late antique city, in the minds of some academics.20 Furthermore, claims of continuity are even criticised by British scholars, for being shallow or based on a failure to read the evidence carefully. Interest in public space might represent a (somewhat immoral) obsession with inscriptions and classical building forms, reflecting the ideology of a colonial oppressor.21 I take a different view: that road repairs, finds, and graffiti attest to continuity 20  Transformation as widespread and desirable in Britain and elsewhere: Carver (1993). 21  Continuity shallow: Wickham (2005) 11–12. Inscriptions, buildings and colonialism: expressed in a mild form by Mattingly (2006) 3–20, 45–46, and in a more robust form, with more obvious justification, in relation to North Africa (2010) 45–63.

10 of occupation, as much as do monumental building projects. Amenity and use as much as monumentality can be traced in the archaeology of public space. All the same, continuity does need to be argued, rather than being assumed, if we are to properly understand the urban character of the 4th to 6th c. AD. It remains to be seen if the continuity which I identify really does outweigh substantial evidence for change in the period. That assessment is best left for others to make. Thematically, this publication forms part of a wider project which I have managed since 2010, supported by Ellen Swift: the Leverhulme-funded Visualisation of the Late Antique City. We have enjoyed the company of five doctoral students, who have each taken parts of the topic for their theses. A further volume will present our collective work, with a more generous frame of reference than can be found here. Similarly, I hope the parallel publication of the doctoral theses will provide more detail on aspects of research presented in this book. Thus, detailed analysis of architectural decoration and architectural design was left to Solinda Kamani and Aoife Fitzgerald. Material culture was treated by Joanna Stoner and Joe Williams, whilst Faith Morgan has tackled aspects of dress. There are other limitations of scope which are apparent in this work. As noted above, this book tends to be about life in the central and eastern Mediterranean, and to be about the life of continuing classical cities. It also excludes fortified villas and castra, sometimes classed as poleis in frontier regions. A separate work would be needed to fully explore the patterns of everyday life found within them. A glance through the contents of this volume will reveal that it is mainly confined to streets, squares, and shops. There are a number of reasons for this. Firstly, there is a good deal of work in progress on bath buildings in Late Antiquity, and in print on baths in general. I have also covered praetoria, law courts, council chambers, and entertainment buildings to some extent in my thesis on provincial capitals, which is scheduled to be published soon. The anatomy of the faction riot or the internal liturgy of religious buildings I have left to others. Equally, the rituals of houses (domestic space) are beyond the scope of this work, although I do have some remarks to make on the ‘daily round’. Rather, my main aim here is to examine ‘civic’ or ‘secular’ public space, especially, but not only, those parts which tied the city together as a whole and which could be seen as constituting the inter-communal experience of different groups. This includes all types of procession, as they were visible to all. My decision to omit external liminal spaces, such as cemeteries and rubbish dumps, or internal liminal spaces, such as idle fortifications, disused temples, and redundant public buildings, is a choice of necessity, as the present volume is already long. To get

Introduction

a balanced understanding of the late antique city one does need to consider all of these, and more, spatial settings, but that cannot be done here. Regretfully, I should note that there is no direct connection in my work to the study of everyday life in the Early Empire. This book is not rooted in the overwhelming sensual immersion that Pompeii or Herculaneum can provide. The Vesuvian environment supports a very different world of inference and speculation. In contrast, the late antique city is visible in fragments and can sometimes only be reached through critical meditation on evidence, whilst sitting within libraries, rather than walking on sites. Even well-preserved cities offer only a partial view. One can feel very close to the late inhabitants of Sufetula, Philippi, Ephesus, or Scythopolis, by visiting their ruins, but the evidential nature of urban studies there is more complex than in cities covered by volcanic ash. A range of poorly dated structures of different date seems to coexist, due to the strategies adopted during clearance excavation. We may see prospects that were once hidden, as later occupation has demolished some structures and built others. Conversely, the hand of the restorer may have removed significant but unglamorous walls, which were thought to interfere with the presentation of a classical city as an aesthetically pleasing archaeological park. Thus, although it is stimulating to walk through a well-preserved dead city, one must keep questions of dating, conservation, and interpretation firmly in mind. The complexity of the evidence means that it is often hard to engage with the methods used in Vesuvian cities. I do not mean to say that this will never happen. Rather, the effort required to produce an accurate portrait of Roman cities away from this area creates a very different set of priorities for scholars. Yet, this effort is worthwhile, if we wish to go beyond generalities based on badly-dated archaeology, to evoke the cities of the late antique era. Knowledge Assumed It has not been possible to write a full set of introductory chapters for readers without any knowledge of the late antique city. If I had done so, it would have seemed odd to many, as a high degree of subject specific knowledge is assumed by most participants in the field. This situation reflects a wider belief in Classics that the subject studies the Great Tradition of Western Civilisation. One should arrive knowing who Constantine, Ambrose, Chrysostom, and Justinian are. It should not need explaining, as it did to me. Those who have not had the chance to absorb such lore should start with The Later Roman Empire of A.H.M. Jones, followed up with P. Brown’s World of Late Antiquity, then read The Fall of Rome by B. Ward-Perkins,

Introduction

and, if serious, C. Wickham’s Framing the Early Middle Ages. Anything by Av. Cameron is well worth reading.22 On the city, works by J.H.W.G. Liebeschuetz on Antioch and Decline and Fall of the Roman City and H. Saradi on The Byzantine City are essential reading, although some interpretations in the latter two books are controversial. A. Leone’s books on the African city are enjoyable, although all who can should read C. Lepelley’s great work in French. The publications of C. Roueché should be devoured with enthusiasm, especially her Aphrodisias in Late Antiquity.23 The bibliographic essays mentioned earlier also provide a good range of articles, from the heyday of interest in the political structures of later cities, some 20 years ago. A new volume of Antiquité Tardive will soon bring the field of civic politics up to date, but I have not seen it. I devoted a large part of my doctoral thesis to administrative history, so here I say little. I recommend the reader to at least have read Jones’ chapter 14 on ‘The cities’, Liebeschuetz’ Antioch and his chapters on notables and bishops in Decline and Fall before reading my book. This will give a grounding in essential administration of how the late antique city worked. Beyond that, I can commend subject encylopedias in dictionaries of specialist libraries, such as the Oxford Classical Dictionary, Dictionaire d’Archéologie Chrétienne et de Liturgie, Oxford Dictionary of Byzantium and so on. The Barrington Atlas is a great help for topography. Getting to know the terminology of Late Antiquity, its theological groupings, administrative grades, cities, and provinces, takes time. No ability in ancient languages is necessary to read this book, nor any expertise in pottery. The phasing and dating used demands no prior knowledge. Textual scholars should not assume that they cannot master it: archaeological reasoning is usually accessible and simple, as is that used here. How to Read This Book This book is designed to function as a research document, not a treatise, nor as a ʻgood readʼ. The mechanical logic of synthesis takes precedence over style, in shaping its form. Most sections cannot be absorbed in one sitting but should dipped into and skimmed through. Ultimately, the book is a thematic report rather than being anything more. This is not a work of virtuoso 22  Works on Late Antiquity: Jones (1964), Brown (1971), WardPerkins (2005), Wickham (2005). 23  Work on the late antique city: Liebeschuetz (1972) and (2001), Saradi (2006), Leone (2007) and (2013), Lepelley (1979) and (1981), Roueché (1989).

11 scholarship and does not require the reader to be clever. It paints a portrait of urban life in a systematic way, with clear supporting evidence. The structure is, I hope, simple and straightforward to navigate. I do not provide an evocation of urban life in creative prose, although that is perhaps what I should have written. Neither does this work seek to problematise any issue beyond what seems strictly necessary. I do not dissect and worry about single sites, as one might do for the sparse archaeology of the Hellenistic period. Rather, I see my task as making sense of an overwhelming mass of evidence for late cities, that never ceases to grow. For the Republic, we have only one naval battle site, three terrestrial battles sites confirmed by archaeology, and a handful of cities where the layout is well-known. For Punic Studies or Archaic Greece, the situation is not much better. But for Late Antiquity, we have several hundred well-preserved and extensively excavated urban sites. Thus, my approach seeks to synthesise and construct a background, not to deconstruct and point out nuances of detail in the foreground. I have aimed to be comprehensive and consistent, with description and basic analysis taking precedence over intuition and interpretation. Imagination occasionally surfaces, as when I have such topics as the temporality of markets or feelings of children, where no source known to me can fill the gaps. Generally, creativity has been left to another occasion. The result is readable prose in those sections which draw heavily on literary sources. In contrast, the architectural treatment is hard going. Its facts and figures are designed to facilitate comparison, between cities and between periods. Here, tables might have said more than the text, but I have chosen ‘tables in prose’ for the sake of aesthetics. The reader is advised to skim such sections, unless they have a specific research interest. For most topics, I summarise the main points of data according to consistent themes. In a few cases, as for statues, encroachment, and street grids, my discussion is more distant, with only selected use of examples. Architectural discussion is given a lot of space, due to its importance to visualisation. Small repairs and abandonment do not get as much, as it is so varied in character. Most of the supporting detail is confined within the appendices. However, sometimes, I consider individual sites within the main text, as they show important features that others do not. The conclusions also present thematic discussions, drawing on all the information found in the study. They are followed by more tentative discussions of wider themes that are more selective in their use of sources. I make stronger claims to veracity for the main chapters than I do for these final parts.

chapter 1

Street Architecture in Late Antiquity Streets as Urban Experience Streets, seemingly humble and unexciting, deserve first place in this book for a number of reasons. One could claim that their aesthetic and technological sophistication is an objective measure of urban civilisation, from the most sophisticated street ornament to the humblest sidewalk. But in this study, it is the impact of streets on urban life which gives them their importance. As architectural frames, they are the lowest common denominator of urban experience: places where all classes of people are obliged to mingle, at least from within their vehicles, but more often face to face. As such, streets hold a central place in defining what one’s experience / consciousness of a city is. The principal streets of a city—its monumental avenues—are simply unavoidable, even from the semi-seclusion of litters. Whatever cult, family, or status group one belongs to, the street constitutes a public space to which all other experiences are connected, from infancy until one is bed-ridden. As such, the architecture of streets and the activities found within them have a special role to play in defining what constitutes city life. This was especially true of Roman urbanism, which had developed street architecture to a greater extent than its forebears. Within the solid framework of Roman streets, we can see the rise and the demise of entertainment buildings, temples, or bath houses, whilst the street itself remained. The ancient urban street, as a well-defined regular space, governed by property rights and regulative practices, survived right until the end of the ancient city, even recovering after periods of degradation, as if it constituted an essential foundation on which other classical urban ideals were built. In conceptual terms, alterations to the street should imply profound changes in the nature of urban society, whether in terms of civic selfrepresentation, traffic flow, processional use, or the relative status of citizens compared to the private interests of patrons and property owners. The physical form of ancient streets might thus provide a number of insights into urban life: firstly, unstepped streets of 3.5 m or more in width normally imply the use of wheeled transport, being the minimum width for two very modest vehicles to just squeeze past; secondly, the presence of façades on buildings, or of systematic street ornamentation, reveals a preoccupation with representation, either at a domestic, commercial, or civic level; thirdly, the existence of stable regular boundaries, sometimes set within a grid, suggests a strong framework of legal governance,

as do standards of building and repair to road surfaces and their associated drains; fourthly, wherever the ornaments or monuments of streets are organised in sequential fashion, it is reasonable to suspect that processional use was an important consideration in their planning. All of these components of street design were present in the cities of the Early Imperial period, when civic evergetism and imperial benefaction encouraged the development of monumental avenues, especially in the Near East. In this region, the Late Hellenistic colonnaded street emerged, alongside nymphaea and other ornaments. This form of street spread to great cities elsewhere, such as Ephesus, Pergamon, Perge, and Lepcis Magna, likely having its origin in the routes of religious processions in Greek cities, which were gradually ornamented and sometimes given steps to host spectators.1 A few early colonnaded streets were built in the West, as at Italica, Ostia, Volubilis, and Utica, although here they were less common. In some, though not all cities, an alternative tradition of street porticoes was present based on the porches and overhanging storeys of individual buildings, not at Pompeii, but certainly at Alesia, as in the rest of Gaul. Here, porticoes of various kinds, often composite, were built in large numbers prior to 250, if not after. Porticoes were also present at Thamugadi, and a few other sites in Africa, but never made a big impression.2 Nonetheless, in the West, street ornaments, such as arches and tetrapyla, were encountered, making the main avenues of some cities monumental even when they were not colonnaded. The incidence of such architectural elements, alongside solid road paving, sewers, and other amenities, defines our expectation of what a classical street was, even if, in some regions, minor urban roads only had stable regular boundaries to distinguish them from village alleyways.

1  Syntheses on street architecture, Hellenistic to Early Imperial: Segal (1997) 5–53; Bejor (1999), extending briefly to Late Antiquity in 98–112; Burns (2011), and now (2017) on the Near East but also elsewhere. Useful collection: Ballet, Dieudonné-Glad and Saliou (2008). For a good literature review of earlier material: see Martens (2004) vol. 2, 378–402. Greek processional routes: Cavalier and des Courtils (2008). For my definition of monumentality, see the section on minor streets. 2  Western cities with colonnaded streets of Early Imperial date include Italica, Volubilis and Utica: see plans in Gros and Torelli (1988) 396–97. Ostia colonnaded street: Pavolini (2006) 82 with pl. 3 and 97. Alesia: Frakes (2009) catalogue nos. 77–79. Gallic porticoes, only 4 are built after 250 according to study of Frakes (2009) 107 plus catalogue.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004423824_003

13

Street Architecture in Late Antiquity

Given what I have just written, one might expect that my study of streets in Late Antiquity would produce a relatively direct description of how changes in modes of transport, façade display, property boundaries, and sequential ornament relate to changes in society. To a theoretician, these could remain objectives. However, the debate on the subject is currently in a different place: scholars have been unsure about the extent to which monumental streets, or even well-regulated minor streets, were still present in late antique cities, offering seemingly contradictory images of the continued building of colonnaded streets, alongside examples of shambolic encroachment.3 This is a topic of much interest, as researchers have sought to identify when the narrow souk, visible in East Mediterranean towns today, came into being. These streets, often wide enough only for two camels to pass, rejected wheeled transport and the monumentality of Roman urban arteries. Their colonnades, pavements, and shops became encased in domestic and commercial structures, whilst the roadway came to be seen as free building space, leaving only narrow passages. The iconic representation of this process is that by Sauvaget, based on his work in Laodicea in Syria of 1934.4 In the last thirty years, following the publication of J. Stephens-Crawford’s work on Sardis, research has taken on a new direction, pointing out the longevity and sophistication of building work on colonnaded streets in Late Antiquity. Crawford was surprisingly ambiguous in his view of Sardis. After describing the prosperous commercial avenue adjacent to the gymnasium, he presented comparanda of other colonnaded streets from across the empire, mixed with some examples of late shops. But he concluded (on p. 125) that the shops of Sardis were ‘Byzantine’ rather than classical, stating that: “the world of classical antiquity had succumbed beyond all efforts to revive it; the Byzantine Empire’s struggle to survive had only begun”. He then described the world of the Sardis shops as one afflicted by disasters and oppressive government, without really drawing on the evidence he himself presented for monumental investment and dynamic urban commerce. Yet, in the absence of medieval comparanda for these shops, it is very difficult to see them as ‘Byzantine’, rather than ‘Roman’.5 Later writers, since Crawford, have interpreted his data very differently. Colonnaded avenues are now seen as indicators of urban identity and commercial vitality within late antique cities.6 This makes it even

more critical that the chronology of their construction and occupation be properly established. Because of the conflicting nature of current scholarship, in which basic facts are still the subject of debate, much of this chapter will take the form of a bottom-up description of the evidence, with particular attention to chronology, rather than explore theoretical models of street development in full.

3  Debate on late antique streets: see nn. 9–15, below. 4  Representation of encroachment: Sauvaget (1934) 99–100. 5  Interpretation of Sardis: Stephens Crawford (1990) 106–25. 6  Tim Potter even believed colonnaded streets to have in some way ‘taken over’ from fora / agorai in providing a focus of urban life in Late Antiquity: Potter (1995) 85–90.

7  Studies of street grids: Haverfield (1913); Ward-Perkins (1974); Owens (1991) 7–30; Anderson (1997) 183–240; Sewell (2010) 21–86; Laurence, Esmonde-Cleary and Sears (2011) 135–69. Gros and Torelli (1988) provide a good overview of the direction and variety of urban planning through the Republic and Empire, though without an exclusive focus on streets.

The Nature of the Evidence Field archaeologists have shown an uneven level of interest in streets. Some working on East Mediterranean sites have excavated impressive colonnaded avenues, which were perhaps partially visible even before digging began. Elsewhere, in both East and West, there has been a tendency to excavate monumental buildings as if they were islands, without taking into consideration the street system in which they were set. Where streets have been uncovered, the varied quality of fieldwork has produced very different types of information. Interest in street grids has been widespread, based on the analysis of aerial photos, building alignment, and sometimes an excavation: but this has not extended to Late Antiquity, as most city plans were established centuries earlier, with the exception of some small cities founded at this time.7 Studies of the physical appearance of streets— their monumentality—are severely restricted by the scale of excavation, being far easier to undertake in clearance-excavated sites in Africa or the East. Here, interest in repair has been almost non-existent, making it essential for scholars to visit sites to make first-hand observations. Well-dated information on these topics comes almost entirely from small but tightly controlled trenches from the Roman West. Differences in the quality of recording also affect studies of occupation and encroachment. In the West, such evidence is often minutely recorded; in contrast, eastern excavations have tended to neglect chronology, although it is in the East and in Africa that such phenomena can be studied on a large scale. Even when later phases of street use are recorded, the quality of recording can vary. Italian archaeologists often refer to ‘battuto’ in a vague manner, as a description of road surface, without specifying whether (rammed) gravel, beaten earth, or even cobble is implied. British archaeologists, in contrast, are so used to road surfaces being in gravel that they fail to

14 say explicitly which road surfaces are laid in this material rather than in pebbles or earth. For all of these topics, differences in preservation also present considerable intellectual obstacles. In the West, the superstructure of streets and even their actual paving may have been removed by post-classical stone-robbing. Only in a few regions, principally Africa, Asia Minor, and parts of the Levant, do we see street furniture, statue monuments, and graffiti surviving to any appreciable degree. These issues mean that it is hard to give a regional description of street evolution for many dioceses of the late empire. A broader synthetic account, with local qualification, is easier to undertake, especially in core Mediterranean regions. Here, it seems that a common urban style persisted. Yet, whatever the limits of the archaeological evidence, it has to be admitted that literary and legal sources for the appearance (rather than the use) of streets are far more circumscribed: references are largely limited to Constantinople, with only a handful of snippets for Antioch, Alexandria, and Edessa. Thus, our understanding of the physical development of streets in Late Antiquity is best based on archaeology (including the epigraphic evidence uncovered by excavations), supplemented by a few (highly iconographic) depictions. In contrast, for the everyday use of streets, we are dependent less on archaeology and more on texts. For the study of processions, we have many texts, a few images, and almost no archaeology. This produces its own difficulties, especially as texts suggest ways of seeing the world which I would like to embrace. In Late Antiquity, people used a variety of terms to describe streets in Latin or Greek, such as via, platea, odos, aguia (for large streets), or vicus, semita, quintana, angiportus, and stenôpos (for minor streets), with embolos (portico) as a shorthand for colonnaded street. Whilst it could be interesting to explore these words philologically and legally, it is not easy to base an analysis of street systems on the references of which they are part. There were no rigid boundaries between most of the terms: notably, platea can be used for plazas on occasion, as we will see later. In only a few cases can we connect specific roads with specific words, whereas the archaeological evidence suggests quite clear differences between major monumental avenues and minor streets.8 8  Classical terms for streets: van Tilburg (2007) 8; Kaiser (2011b) 24– 34; du Bouchet (2008) 57–61. Embolos: see e.g. Makros Embolos (Portico of Domninos) of Constantinople in appendix C2. On platea see study of Spanu, who discusses the evolution of the term, with reference notably to the wide street identified with the Tiberia Platea at Antioch in Pisidia: Mitchell and Waelkens (1998) 147–54, and also the platea maritima at Carthage of August. De civ. D. 16.8 and Retract. 2.58, which seems to be identical with the Μαριτίμου ἀγορά of Proc. Aed. 6.5.10, a sense which seems to be supported by other African inscriptions, though platea can be connected to streets in Early Imperial texts in the

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For this reason, a classification of my own making has to be imposed to make sense of the sites under study. This recognises ‘monumental streets’, including those which were colonnaded, but also the principal axes of a city (slightly wider or emphasised), and unmonumental ‘minor streets’ and ‘alleys’, which I take to be roadways of under 3.5 m. I must admit to a certain degree of regret about this. I would have much preferred to have organised my work into private roads, minor streets, and monumental streets, using terms taken from ancient sources supported by epigraphic and legal observations, as is possible for fora / agorai, market buildings, and shops. But there is just not enough legal or epigraphic source material to do this for streets whilst the archaeology is so rich, and so often able to challenge impressions derived from legal sources. Therefore, it is not currently possible to give juridical terminology the same weight as archaeology. As we will see, I am unsure whether to reject the legal evidence entirely as unrepresentative or to see it as relating to notions beyond the reach of archaeology. In either case, it cannot yet be used to provide a conceptual basis to read the material remains of streets in the late antique city. Street Encroachment: Reality or Myth? Street encroachment has been one of the ‘hot topics’ of late antique archaeology. As a subject it has been well-served by such scholars as J. Sauvaget, T. Potter, B. Ward-Perkins, and now I. Jacobs, whose study of eastern urban evidence considers all types of spatial ‘invasion’. Here, I focus only on streets.9 As a theme, encroachment conjures up familiar images of fallen porticoes, shambolic construction, little chapels and oil presses in the roadway, or perhaps a well-ordered ‘souk’, such as that built inside the colonnaded street at Palmyra.10 But, when the evidence is considered as a whole, such images cannot be taken as being representative of late antique cities, neither those of the 4th to 6th c. East, nor those of the 4th to early 5th c. West. Certainly, there are many examples of encroachment,

diocese: Spanu (2002) 349–58. See also Kleinwächter (2001) 45–47, 57–60 and Trifilò (2013). 9   Street encroachment literature: Sauvaget (1934) 81–114; Kennedy (1985) 11–13; Potter (1995) 67–68, 85–90, 102; Baldini Lippolis (2007) 197–237; Saradi (2006) 271–94, esp. 203, 205. Jacobs (2009) considered privatisation, usurpation, and encroachment, of streets, public squares and monuments. It became available to me in Spring 2013, after I had written this chapter. My views here are developed independently, especially as regards dating. 10  Palmyra souk: the shops built over the street are dated to the Early Islamic period, based on Umayyad pottery and coins found beneath the floors of the shops: see appendix A11.

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enough to produce a persuasive argument that the late antique period saw substantial change in attitudes to urban roadways. However, a great number of these examples are undated. In the East, several that could be dated to the period do not really deserve to be considered as encroachment, when examined more closely: a chapel, built on the street at Perge, turns out to have been constructed against an earlier fountain, already set in the roadway; the extension of a house, onto a street at Sagalassos, makes use of a road closed by a new fortification wall; at Side, the apparent ‘encroachment’ of a bishop’s palace onto the roadway merely replicates the street boundaries of the preceding monumental complex into which it was built.11 It seems that scholarly impressions of street encroachment are especially dependent on laws from the 4th to early 5th c. recorded in book 15 of the Codex Theodosianus, then carried on into book 8 of the Codex Justinianus, relating to the regulation of public building.12 These texts are often taken as confirming both the reality of street encroachment and the source of this pressure: lax regulation of private interests, especially those of a commercial nature. They have sometimes been presented as if they reflected an apocalyptic scenario for Roman urban order.13 Scholarly discussions of the laws, which mainly concern late 4th to early 5th c. Constantinople, are usually illustrated with a few (often undated) archaeological examples from distant provinces.14 But it 11  Dubious encroachment archaeology: Perge, chapel at intersection of two colonnaded streets, built on ancient road surface, suggesting Late Antiquity, though it looks Middle Byzantine from its small cross-in-square plan and lack of any new-cut architecture, and building materials of mixed and fragmentary reused pieces: see Mansel and Akarca (1949) 44, 66f; Hild and Hellenkemper (2004) 370; P. Talloen site observations April 2010. Sagalassos, house: extension of baths of domus onto street now dated to the early 4th c. based on pottery and coins, although grounds for this dating are not published, and I suspect this is only a TPQ, with the wall dated to ca. AD 400: Uytterhoeven and Martens (2008) 288; Side, bishop’s palace: best described in Mansel (1978) 264–73. The site has now been excavated further, revealing the road layout of earlier centuries, which already had the same organisation of space within it: L. Lavan site observations July 2004. 12  E.g. Cod. Theod. 15.1.39 = Cod. Iust. 8.11.14: ‘We order that the buildings commonly called parapetasia, or others which are attached to the walls of cities, or to public buildings, and on account of whose condition the neighbourhood is threatened with fire or some other danger, or which occupy the space of public squares, or interfere with the porticoes of public edifices, shall be demolished and destroyed’ (given at Constantinople, AD 398). 13  E.g., Potter (1995) 85–90, 102. 14  Archaeological examples used to illustrate street encroachment: Kennedy (1985) 11–13 (three examples); Saradi (2006) 280–87, esp. 285–87 (4 examples on main avenues, including one from Vandal Carthage and one that was cleared away in Antiquity). Baldini Lippolis (2007) 206–12 gives 2 examples on

15 is more likely that this legislation reflects the continued regulation of urban space, known in earlier centuries. The manual of Julian of Ascalon (6th c.), devoted to precisely such matters, lends weight to a more positive interpretation. The manual’s editor, C. Saliou, has argued for a much more precise reading of 4th–5th c. ‘encroachment’ legislation. Using references from Libanius, she re-examines late constitutions, observing that private uses of porticoes seem to be imperially-permitted and subject to rent collection by the urban authorities, not just random extensions of private property.15 Indeed, the rights which shop keepers had over portico space in front of their premises were long-standing. Martial suggested that, before Domitian stepped in to regulate traders, one could hardly pass along the streets, such was the intensity of commercial activity.16 At Ostia, the existence of occasional stone screens, iron bars, and loopholes, placed between the columns or piers of Early Imperial porticoes, would have served the interests of such shopkeepers. Their fitful provision, in front of one shop, but not the next, suggests private initiative, within the context of legally recognised norms.17 For Late Antiquity, there is only a single example of a light fence set between columns of a ground-floor street portico: it is recorded at Zenobia, whilst one balustrade is recorded between columns for a first-floor portico at Athens. This is significant, as we have several depictions showing domestic and ecclesiastical colonnades with curtains or even wooden lattices to close them. But late antique depictions of ground floor street porticoes do not have such features, as far as I know. This difference is indeed visible on the Yakto mosaic of mid-5th c. Antioch, which shows such porticoes unobstructed, in contrast to other types.18 The appearance within porticoes or sidewalks of other minor obstacles related to commerce fora and 6 examples on streets, while the rest deal with the privatisation or subdivision of public buildings; of her street examples, some are post-antique, and several encroach to allow the building of a large monumental structure, as they did in earlier centuries; Baldini Lippolis’ two convincing examples come from Vandal Africa, not the East. 15  Julian of Ascalon: Saliou (1996b). Saliou on earlier encroachment legislation: Saliou (2005) 207–24. 16  Difficulty of passing through streets (risking the barber’s razor, chained flagons, cooking activity etc.): Mart. 7.61.7. 17  Portico obstacles at Ostia: L. Lavan site observation 2015, along Cardo Maximus porticoes, for example. 18  Portico fence at Zenobia [appendix B7, ca. 550]. Portico balustrade at Athens: [C4, 383–616]. Curtains to close porticoes: Palace of Theoderic, San Apollinare Nuovo, inserted after reconquest: Deichmann (1974) 141–44; Urbano (2005). Lattices: Villa Maternus, Carranque, Fernández-Galiano (1994) with thanks to S. Kamani. Both depictions are mosaic. For a forum scene from Pompeii with lattices between columns: Accademia Ercolanese (1762) plate 42. Antioch, Yakto mosaics: Lassus (1934).

16 is again attested in Vesuvian cities: over 100 masonry benches have been detected outside taverns and bakeries at Pompeii. The presence of tables and couches in front of shops selling food and drink, on the Yakto mosaic, makes one think that this would have been common. Yet, I know of only three masonry benches dated to the late antique period, from Rauranum, Ostia, and Caesarea Palestinae. Overall, this suggests that the regulation of porticoes in the late antique Mediterranean was rather stronger than it had been at Pompeii, and that colonnades had to be kept free, apart from wooden furniture. The closure of porticoes with solid walls is of course attested, but it is a very different phenomenon, likely relating to a recognised act of sale or compensation, rather than being connected to routine daily uses which would have encouraged lesser modifications of design.19 The best argument against overwhelming encroachment is undoubtedly the evidence for the maintenance and continuity of streets. This is perhaps less engaging for scholars than the traces of invasive privatisation and abandonment. These, when found, produce photogenic scenes, whilst street sweeping and road repair can leave hardly any trace. Maintenance was briefly considered in 1970 by D. Claude’s Die Byzantinische Stadte, in T. Potter’s Towns in Late Antiquity, and in two articles by M. Mango.20 These authors tended to focus on the East Mediterranean, seeing investment in monumental street architecture as especially characteristic of the 5th–6th c. Yet, dated excavations suggest that active maintenance of all kinds of streets has been underestimated, not just in the East but also in the West. In Britain, Gaul, Hispania, and Italy, where information is available, it is clear that the repair of well-ordered classical streets was common for the 4th c.21 Furthermore, in the East, the chronology of street development has not been sufficiently explored in synthetic works, and has sometimes been confused. Other subjects remain almost completely uninvestigated, such as the maintenance of sewers and water pipes. 19  Pavement encroachment by benches at Pompeii: Hartnett (2008a) 91–119, with now Hartnett (2017) 195–223. Late antique examples: see appendix A3. For the use of porticoes by shop occupants: see the chapter on shops. 20  Architectural maintenance and continuity of streets in Late Antiquity: Claude (1969) 41–63; Potter (1995) 80–90; Mango M. (2001) 29–52; Mango M. (2000b) 189–207. 21  Maintenance of well-ordered classical street surfaces in the late 3rd to 4th c. for Britain (Cirencester (Corinium), Kenchester), Gaul (Rheims, Argentomagus, Autun), Hispania (Complutum) and Italy (Ravenna, Paestum): see appendices on street construction and repair, esp. C10a–C10c, with undated stone surfaces from Africa. New street porticoes are known for Cirencester, Trier, Argentomagus, Autun, Milan, Rome, Ostia, and several African cities, as well as sites in the nearby (eastern) region of Pannonia, at Carnuntum and Sala.

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There is, nonetheless, now enough archaeological evidence to construct a provisional synthesis on the architectural development of streets in Late Antiquity, which is what this chapter attempts to offer.22 Many Mediterranean cities saw strong continuity in their ancient street grids: a large number have survived up until today, especially in Italy and the Levant.23 This implies the survival of property boundaries, laid down in the Republic or earlier, lasting throughout Late Antiquity. We cannot accuse Ausonius of rhetorical exaggeration when he praised the orthogonal grid of Bordeaux, in the late 4th c., as this same grid has survived within the circuit of the Late Roman walls, lasting up to our time.24 Furthermore, when 4th to 6th c. churches were built, in southern Gaul, Africa, the Balkans, and Asia Minor, they often respected the city grid, in their construction and entrance design. This can be seen at Valencia, Hippo Regius, and Sufetula (in its 5 intramural churches); or at Salona (in the 3 churches of the episcopal quarter); at Novae and at Stobi (twice); at Hierapolis, Xanthos, and Cremna (6 times); at Anazarbos (twice); at Palmyra (3 times).25 In these cases, churches were built up to the edge of their insulae, but did not spill over into the street. Those church apses which do encroach onto streets are outnumbered by those which could have done but did not.26 At Palmyra, three out of four churches in the ‘Christian quarter’, north-east of the main road, respected the streets (fig. A5). One church was even built so that a street ran through the atrium and out of the other side. Only a single apse was allowed to narrow a roadway here, of a church which has not yet been closely dated.27 Some cities in Gaul (such as Paris, Vienne, and Narbonne) underwent significant changes after the 22  Potter (1995) 87, fig. 43 mistakenly uses the site phase plan of Antioch (including post-antique features) from Lassus (1972) 27 (pl. 14), p. 31 (pl. 18), and p. 33 (pl. 19), rather than the reconstructed phase plan from p. 125 (pl. 59) to illustrate the Justinianic phase of the colonnaded street, which was a lot more monumental than Potter gives credit for: see appendix C3 for further details. 23  Street obliteration, selected examples: see appendix A5e. Street grid survival in Italy, Near East and occasionally elsewhere in Gaul and the Mediterranean: see below n. 322–23, 341, 344, 347. 24  Bordeaux’s streets: Auson. Carm. 22.13–20. Survival of city’s grid: reviewed by Février, with Barraud and Maurin (1998) 24. 25  Churches built respecting street grids: see appendix A1. 26  Churches encroaching onto streets: see appendices A2a and A2b. Only one case, Egnatia in southern Italy, does a church apse narrow a major street, and only 4 other cases do other bits of churches narrow major streets. Churches apses block minor streets in 2 cases, whereas other bits of churches block them in 10 cases. 27  Churches of Palmyra’s Christian quarter: see appendix A1.

17

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200m

N

0

figure a5

Encroachment of backstreets by churches, Palmyra, showing only one road blocking, very late

upheavals of the 3rd c., seeing their inhabited urban area contract considerably.28 Yet, inside these new fortifications, it does not seem that the classical street was abandoned. In Paris, sometime in 308–360, a new street system was formed within the newly-fortified Île-de-la-Cité. At Tournai, around AD 342–45, the building of a circuit wall coincided with the laying out of buildings on a new regular orientation, although the street surfaces themselves have not been identified.29 A little later, we have one new ‘city’, along the Danube, which suggests that a street system might be optional. 28  Gallic cities, losing suburban areas in second half of 3rd c.: Paris: Busson (1998) 76, describes the abandonment of the area and demolition of most buildings, with the anarchic spreading of cemeteries: see 77–382 for a detailed review of the archaeology. Vienne: Goulpeau and Savay-Guerraz (1998) esp. 181–82 provide an archaeomagnetic date of AD 290 + / –15 years for the last use of les thermes des Lutteurs in the western suburbs, later than that supported by coins from only the first half of the 3rd c., a range also attested by ceramics: Leblanc and Savay-Guerraz (1996) 110–11. Dendrochronology dates the final repairs of the adjacent bridge to AD 230. For an overview of the development of cemeteries from the mid 4th c.: Brissaud (2008) 247–57. Arles: Trinquetaille houses show violent abandonment, dated by hoard of 19 coins, the latest being Valerian I (AD 253–59); southern quarter villa destroyed and covered by an early 4th c. cemetery, with a fire dated by coin evidence to between AD 249–82: Heijmans (1996) 125–27 with references. For Aix: details listed in Mocci and Nin (2006) (I have lost the page nos.) with a section of evidence of 3rd c. destruction. 29  New streets at Paris and Tournai: see appendix B7.

The refounded polis of Nicopolis ad Istrum, rebuilt around 435–60, has buildings that are irregularly placed within an open space devoid of streets. It might be tempting to follow Poulter and to see here a radically new urban model. But, this site is exceptional, and its plan is better classified alongside the imperial villas and fortified granaries of the region, rather than with its cities. It is notable that a little further down the Danube, Histria continued to use its street system into a final 6th c. phase, as did Tomis, despite major new buildings being constructed during this century, within plots that respected its roadways.30 Positive archaeological evidence of encroachment on major urban avenues is actually surprisingly circumscribed. Unstructured ‘usurpation’ and obliteration of all types of streets can be seen at sites in 4th–5th c. Britain, as at Canterbury and Winchester, with Wroxeter coming somewhat later, then at Sufetula. It is visible in Africa and Justiniana Prima in Illyricum, both in the later 6th c. / earlier 7th c. However, these examples occur within regions in which cities or individual sites were, at that time, experiencing overall urban crisises; a process which I do not consider in this study. There are 30  No streets at Nicopolis ad Istrum: Poulter (1995) 40–42 and appendix C10a. New urban model: Poulter (1992). Continuity of streets at Histria, visible around the late house, from which coin finds date from the first 8 decades of the 6th c.: Stoian (1972) 145–46, with fig. 19; at Tomis: Scorpan (1976) 3–10 (discussing building sequences of two streets at the Cathedral Park site).

18 a few examples from Britain, northern Gaul and northeast Hispania that occur within continuing cities, but only in a handful of cases can they be entirely disassociated from trends of wider urban decay, when the appearance of new fortification seems to have altered the function of streets considerably.31 To focus on these instances would be to ignore or confuse the wider story of streets within regions where the city survived strongly, which is the subject of this book. Outside of ‘crisis’ areas, most encroachment can be described in terms of more specific processes. It can be divided into well-structured changes affecting major roads, which I will describe here, and less well-structured changes affecting minor streets, which will be explored later.32 Of encroachments affecting major avenues, an ordered privatisation of porticoes can sometimes be detected. This can be seen at Ostia in the later 3rd to 4th c., at Mérida in the 4th to 5th c., and at Carthage in the 6th c. It also occurred at Sagalassos and Salamis in Cyprus in the 4th to early 5th c., at Tripolis ad Meandrum sometime in 300–700, at Ephesus on the Upper Embolos [576–614], at Sepphoris [undated], and at Scythopolis sometime in the 6th to 8th c. Sagalassos and Ariassos also saw agorai porticoes privatised in the same way. Usually, it is a carefully planned development, which creates a whole row of cellular shops, as will be described in a later chapter, although at Mérida it involves large houses expanding into the portico space. I argue that this process represented only a modification of the monumentality of the city, not its negation. It was far from being typical of the late antique condition of porticoes.33 Such privatisation sometimes co-existed with the building of more colonnades, as can be seen vividly at Ostia.34 Some porticoes which had been enclosed were also given new light 31  Unstructured usurpation of street space, selected examples: see appendices A5a (as part of ruralisation) and A5b (in continuing urban settlements). 32  Structured ‘usurpation’ and obliteration of streets by public buildings and private houses: see appendices A4b, A4c, A7b, A7c, A8a, A8b. 33  Planned portico encroachment by shops: see appendix A5d. For examples of a portico encroachments not carried out in a co-ordinated manner, but by individual unplanned actions, we have Petra [363–88] and Nicopolis in Epirus [Undated]: see appendix A5c. Portico encroachment by individual shops at Aizanoi [402–557] and Sardis [400–641]: see appendix A5c. 34  Porticoes subdivided, whilst others built: seen at Ostia, on the Decumanus, where the portico opposite the Foro della statua eroica was occupied in the mid 3rd c.; new porticoes were built by the theatre: see Lavan (forthcoming) plus appendices A5d and C4. For other examples of porticoes occupied by shops at Ostia see appendix A5d with Schoevaert (2013) 325–40. There are a few examples of public porticoes being turned into complete rooms, by closing the intercolumniations, as at Luni [undated], Ostia [palaestra, 443–?450], Hippo Regius [undated], and Justiniana Prima [535–616]: see A5c. These represent an intermediate form of occupation which could have been

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lean-to porches of wood, that compensated for the lost space. Such lean-to porches have been detected on public plazas both at Ostia and at Sagalassos, where such structures were built projecting out onto the paving from porticoes which had been occupied. One wonders if such lean-to porches might have played a role equivalent to the ‘Cilician awnings?’ of the Digest, intended to protect buildings against wind and rain, even if the two features were distinct. At Herdonia, a portico converted into cellular rooms inside the gymnasium was given a new portico in brick-faced concrete.35 The planned abolition of streets, likely undertaken with the consent of the urban authorities, is a second process. Late Antiquity saw the merging of insulae at the expense of minor streets in large-scale public building campaigns, as at Exeter [250–365], Trier [twice, 305–12, 275–318] and Savaria [undated], for a forum and three palaces, all within the later 3rd to 4th c. The same process also occurred for large churches, within the later 5th to 6th c., at Philippi [twice, 313–562, 404–537], and at Hierapolis [450–546].36 Yet these developments did not greatly alter the overall monumental character of the city. At both Trier and Savaria, imperial audience halls set over former streets simply continued a division of space enacted in earlier phases in each city. Here, insulae had already been merged to build monumental structures in the 2nd or 3rd c. Indeed, the joining of insulae can often be observed within cities during the first three centuries AD, when public buildings such as fora or large temples were inserted into urban plans. One can see this phenomenon as part of a slow process whereby the rather featureless street grids of the Greek world came to be disrupted by a Roman desire for urban ornament, a process that was already underway in Early Imperial times, at Carthage and at Ephesus, where it was well-advanced.37 These developments continued in Late carried by a single individual but is not chaotic in form, and so might have involved sale. 35  Possible porches, supported by postholes, in front of occupied porticoes: Ostia: Lavan (2012a) 666 [443–450?, see appendix K2a]; Sagalassos: Lavan (2013a) 303–305 with fig. 4a–b [500–610, see appendix Y2]. Cilician awnings: Dig. 33.7.12.17. Herdonia: appendix Y1 [300–500]. 36  Merging of insulae in large-scale civil and ecclesiastical building campaigns: see appendix A4b. 37  Public buildings inserted into urban plans, causing abolition of streets / whole insulae, during the Early Imperial period, e.g.: Lyon (two temples and an odeon): Desbat (2008) esp. 231–34. Carthage: odeon and theatre block streets by taking up several insulae, as do the Antonine Baths, circus, and amphitheatre: see plan in Hurst and Roskams (1984) vol. 1.1 p. 33, fig. 11. Comprehensive change at Ephesus, where insulae of the Hellenistic grid were merged and disregarded for the insertion of large monumental complexes in the city: Groh (2006) esp. 73–101 (geophysics plus monumental analysis). Other examples: Paestum, Lararium and ‘Caesareum’ see appendix

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Antiquity, in an orderly fashion, and are not indicative of a breakdown or rupture in urban regulation. I would not claim that disruptive street encroachment did not exist at all, within regions that remained prosperous. It can be observed in a measured form on minor streets, which will be explored later. But when late antique encroachment is seriously shambolic, spilling onto major avenues, it seems to be a feature of regions experiencing full-blown de-urbanisation, as seen in 5th c. Britain, or to be confined to a few centres which were being ruralised. Buildings set in the roadway can be seen in Britain at Wroxeter [367–790], at Winchester [twice, 300–400, 400–648] and at Canterbury [three times, 350–75, 388–425, 395–450]. Encroachment coinciding with the development of structures appropriate to village life can be observed in the Balkans at Messene [346–95] and at Justiniana Prima in its final phase [565– 615]. Messene at least seems to have been losing its municipal government when these developments occurred, as evidence of civic building work and maintenance is lacking after the time when streets were invaded.38 Encroachment does not, however, significantly obscure the major roadways of medium to large urban centres in most of the West before the early 5th c., or in Africa and the East before the later 6th c. At Carthage, the Vandal period does not seem to be significant time of change, as far as archaeology is concerned. This is despite a moral metaphor of Salvian, alluding to the obstruction of streets at the start of Germanic settlement in Africa, apparently by physical structures, as well as ‘pits’ and ‘nets’ (of sexual sin), which were found in plateae as well as semitae.39 Lust had so cut off most of the crossroads and streets with its snares, and entangled them with its nets, that even those who utterly abhorred such vices could scarcely avoid them. You might compare them to brigands lurking in ambush and snatching their spoils from passers-by; they so hedged in the paths, the winding roads and byways with their close-set traps … You would think the city a sinkpot of lust and fornication, like the muck collected from the offscourings of all the streets and sewers. Salv. Gub. Dei 7.17 transl. Sanford (1930)

Whatever process Salvian is alluding to, archaeology suggests that physical change was far greater in A7a; Priene (for agora widening in 3rd c. BC which re-routes a street): Koenigs (1993) 381–97; von Steuben (1996) 275–82. 38  Shambolic encroachment within Late Antiquity: see appendix A5a. 39  Carthage encroachments: appendices A4c, A7a–A7c, A8b and A10.

19 regions closer to Marseilles, from where he was writing. In Hispania and south-west Gaul, the encroachment of major streets in medium and larger cities can sometimes be seen in the 4th and 5th c., as at Mérida and at Éauze. The process was continued in the 6th c. at Valencia, where a cathedral mausoleum blocked the cardo maximus ca. 560.40 This represents the emergence of a monumental classical urbanism which still built secular public monuments and fine houses, but tolerated deviations from traditional street norms. As such, it seems to provide the best correlation with the images generated by the Theodosian Code, which are otherwise misleading. Current research sees this type of encroachment taking place against the background of a specifically Spanish urban crisis which began in the 2nd c. In this period, a few cities, such as those mentioned above, were centres of continuity, whilst others experienced abandonment.41 In the East, Philippi alone sees significant encroachments of major avenues, by a sigma plaza and an episcopal complex, the latter dating from 536–616.42 In contrast, many eastern cities did not see encroachment and were still recognisably classical in the middle decades of the 6th c.: as at Stobi, Aizanoi, Sagalassos, Caesarea, Sepphoris, and Scythopolis. We might suspect that early clearance excavations removed invasive buildings from streets without record, but recent digs confirm that the main avenues of these cities were still monumental, and suitable for wheeled traffic if necessary.43 Furthermore, despite scholarly suspicions to the contrary, there is much evidence that well-organised, even monumental, streets were favoured elements of urban design in the Umayyad Levant. Ordered road divisions feature in the 7th c. redevelopment of south-eastern Jerusalem, where streets 4.3 m wide were established, within a rectangular grid. They can also be seen in the 40  Encroachment of major streets earlier, in south-west Gaul and Hispania: see appendix A8a. 41  Spanish urban crisis: see forthcoming papers from the conference ¿Crisis urbana a finales del alto imperio? La evolución de los espacios cívicos en el Occidente romano en tiempos de cambio (s. II–IV d.C.) held in Cartagena in 2012. 42  Philippi: appendices A2a and X2. 43  Streets open and recognisably classical in the 6th c. AD: at Stobi: encroachment absent from the account of Kitzinger (1946) 83–161 and Wiseman (1973); at Aizanoi: Rheidt (1995); Wörrle (1995) 719–27. See also Rheidt (1997) 437–47; at Sagalassos: Lavan (2008); Martens (2007); at Caesarea Palestinae: Patrich (1999) 70–107; at Scythopolis: excavations of two streets in central area of city revealed continued embellishment (see appendices A11, C3, C4, C6a, C6d, C7, C10b) with ordered portico / paving encroachment not before 534 and degradation dated to the Umayyad period, before the earthquake of AD 749: see notices without TPQ justification of dating of degradation in Tsafrir and Foerster (1997) 138–140. For the earthquake see Tsafrir and Foerster (1992) 231–35.

20 mid-7th c. Islamic fortress of Ayla (Aqaba) and in the early 8th c. urban foundation of ʿAnjar in Lebanon. Ayla originally had cross-axial streets, leading from the gates, apparently set to the same orientation as the street grid of the adjacent Roman city, whilst ʿAnjar had axial avenues which crossed at a central tetrakionion, as well as a sub-rectangular network of minor streets. This tradition, of quite regular street systems with axial main roads, survived in compact Islamic military implantations up to the late 10th c., as can be seen at al-Qahir (Cairo) in 969, although the colonnaded streets of ʿAnjar do not so far have well-established later parallels. Recently, at Ramla, small-scale excavations have been combined with the study of First World War aerial photographs, to reconstruct a plan of the site. Here a comparable settlement to ʿAnjar grew up, with axial paved roads, in the earlier 8th c. It then developed a regular rectilinear street system from the 9th c., at least in some of its quarters. Even so, it still looks likely that the late antique formula, of axial colonnaded streets lined with shops meeting at a tetrakionion, was last expressed at ʿAnjar.44 Regular streets of ancient dimensions can also be seen persisting within existing classical cities at Gerasa and at Sergiopolis (Resafa) under Islam.45 In Abbasid 44  New ‘classical’ streets in the Umayyad Levant, at Jerusalem: where there are paved streets 4.3 m wide arranged on a square grid plan, within and adjacent to the early 8th c. palace area (dated it seems by historical sources and earthquake destruction in AD 749), see Mazar (2002) 97–99, esp. plan on p. 98; see also Baruch and Reich (2000) 117–32 (not seen, in Hebrew); Ailia / Ayla: (apparently dated from its earliest ceramics and amphorae being ‘late Byzantine’) Whitcomb (1994c) 8–9; Whitcomb (1994a) 157–58, with further references; for discussion of dissenting views see Mühlenbrock (2003) 229–30; see Damgaard (2013a) 77–78 disproving the tetrapylon / tetrakionion and re-dating the structure concerned to the Abbasid period or after, on ceramics of this date (Islamic Cream Ware) in fill underneath; see Damgaard (2009) 87 on the orientation of the fort and the grid of the Roman city; ʿAnjar: colonnaded streets and secondary roads (dated by quarry inscriptions to AD 714 and on texts to beginning in 709–10), see Hillenbrand (1999) 59–98. al-Qahir/Cairo: see Wirth (2000) 42–43 with fig. 22 for suggestion of main axes and rectilinear plan. On Ramla in Palestine, the early 8th c. city, which may initially have had rectangular streets system, or at least two major axes, see the recent excavations reviewed by Avni (2014) 163–169, including a 9 m wide paved street on the north side of the White Mosque. However, structures from the earlier 8th c. are rare, being more common in the later 8th c. During the 9th–11th c. a subrectangular street system of insulae, regular but not exactly orthogonal, divided by streets of 8 m east-west and 3 m north-south was developed in at least one quarter, although other districts had irregular streets, according to survey work based on analysis of aerial photos and other work: Goldfus. and Shmueli (2014) esp. 271 fig. 11.2 (excavations around White Mosque), 279 fig. 11.6 (aerial photos), 280 11.7 (8th c. street plan), 290 fig. 11.11 (9th–11th c. street plan). 45   Street survival in the Umayyad Levant: Walmsley (2007) 344–47; Gerasa: Walmsley (2012): shops along main street,

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foundations in Mesopotamia, roadways wide enough for two carts to pass, set within very regular grids, still persisted, sometimes drawing on traditions of urban planning inherited from Sassanid Persia, with streets organised axially within round cities.46 Admittedly, radical changes are visible in the former Roman territories on main avenues at this time, as detected at Palmyra and Scythopolis, with buildings erected in the roadway itself, or spilling onto it, as at Sepphoris and Gerasa (not welldated). Nonetheless, it is clear that the un-encroached street system remained an ideal, deep into the period of Islamic rule, seen especially in the great 9th c. city of Sāmarrā, north of Baghdad. Here, great avenues are surrounded by many localised grids of rectangular insulae, which generally attained regularity in one if not both dimensions. Yet, this type of foundation was rare by then, and distant from Roman efforts. It is far-fetched to relate Sāmarrā to the classical tradition: such ideas can be invented anew as much as passed on. Furthermore, the Persian contribution to Islamic planning is not yet well-studied. This must have been significant, given the choice of a round city as the form for Baghdad in 762 (known from texts). Therefore, we should not make Sāmarrā part of the story told in this book, which is of a different if not entirely separate cultural tradition. Neither can we attach a universal narrative of the decline of classical streets to the arrival or influence of Islam. The dated evidence simply does not support it.47 It is important to remember that we are largely missing evidence for successful regulatory interventions, which removed illegal / unsightly building operations and nipped encroachment in the bud. This is partly a problem of the evidence being slight, and partly a problem of detection, as scholars have failed to look for its traces. Slowly, archaeology is revealing dated examples excavated with occupation finds (ceramics) of 8th–9th c. date from fixtures within (storage bins), suggest continuity of this main avenue, as does a monumental access (to the new mosque) on the same side of the road: Walmsley (2012) 326; Roenje (2008) 51–61: http://miri.ku.dk/projekts/djijp/reports/ IJP_2007_EndofSeasonReport.pdf/ (last accessed March 2013). However, on the opposite side of the same road, 100 m south of this site, a line of new buildings was laid out which took in the portico and sidewalk: see appendix A11. Sergiopolis (Resafa): the 8th c. souk complex seems to have respected the existing street running from the south gate, which was lined with shops as part of this development: Ulbert (1992) 403–16, with Westphalen (2000) 340 fig. 8. 46  Main streets in the classical style in Umayyad and Abbasid Mesopotamia: Northedge (1994) 244–65 (see esp. Sāmarrā and Al-Istabulāt). 47  Umayyad changes at Scythopolis and Palmyra: see appendix A11, and n. 10 above. Sāmarrā and Baghdad: see Wirth (2000) 40–42 and especially review of early Islamic urbanism by Northedge (2007) 247–59, passim for Sāmarrā, 248–50 for Baghdad.

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from Mediterranean cities where we can see that building over the roadway was ephemeral and was removed at some point. At Ostia, a small-scale extension of two rooms onto the Decumanus was cleared away, opposite the Foro della statua eroica, as was a full row of shops, outside the Portico of Neptune, both in the second half of the 4th c. [346–389]. At Sagalassos, private dwellings in the small plaza behind the north-west gate were levelled in the earlier 6th c. [500–550], as the area again took on an open character. Comparable actions can be seen at Argentomagus [360–95], where a portico encroachment was removed in the 4th c., and on plazas at Rome and at Ilici, where late encroachments were cleared away in the 6th c. [500–600] and later [575–725].48 This is, at last, archaeological evidence of action against encroachment in Late Antiquity. Over time, the list of examples may grow, to provide a qualification to generalisations about the ‘decay’ of Mediterranean public space. Texts provide us with an eastern examples of successful regulation, from the late 5th c. / early 6th c.: at Gaza, Choricius describes the work of bishop Marcian, around 520, by noting that the citizens ‘are able to walk through the stoas without getting wet, since whatever was blocking them is demolished’, whilst at Edessa, a governor cleared away tradesmen’s stalls as part of his renovation of a colonnaded street. The latter is not definitely the same type of encroachment but shows a desire to retain access.49 Given this complex evidence, one is left asking: what was the dominant tendency of the period? Did encroachment overturn the classical character of major urban streets, by moving away from the qualities outlined in the opening section? The answer would seem to be that encroachment did occur, as it had in earlier centuries, but that it continued to be both structured and limited in regions where secular monumentality survived. In areas experiencing urban crisis, such as 4th c. Britain or 7th c. Asia Minor, the end of classical cities was more often swift, passing directly from well-ordered to abandoned streets. Here, there was no phase of ‘transformation’, in which encroachment might have established a new hybrid late antique urban form. Such changes only seem to have threatened the classical character of stable urban centres in two regions: 4th to 6th c. Hispania and 6th c. Africa. Elsewhere, street encroachment had a far more limited role, and did not challenge the supremacy of well-ordered colonnaded avenues. Invasive building was not an overwhelming characteristic of major streets in the 4th c. West, nor in the 4th to 6th c. East. Examples of the phenomenon, even when dated to Late Antiquity, should not prevent a discussion of architectural form 48  Private building over roadways ephemeral: see appendix A4a. 49   Texts on action against encroachment: Gaza: Choricius Or. 8.52; Edessa: Chronicle of Joshua Stylites AD 496/97.

and function of well-ordered streets during most of the late period, which continued to be built anew, be repaired, and be used as regulated monumental spaces. Street Grids and Street Systems To what extent did the classical tradition of grid planning survive in the late antique period? The answer to this question is complex. Urban foundations of Greek, Hellenistic and Early Roman date were normally given a regular street grid. However, during the first three centuries AD there had already been a move away from a rigid adherence to this model.50 At the same time, orthogonal planning had not entirely supplanted indigenous street traditions in all parts of the empire. Regular grids were not adopted by some small towns in Britain and Gaul, which had grown from pre-Roman sites or had developed under Rome.51 In the East, at Gerasa, an ambitious plan was undertaken to create axial monumental avenues, whilst the backstreets remained unaligned, being inherited from the Nabatean town.52 In Lycia and Pisidia, some indigenous cities refused to adopt a grid of any kind, despite intense building under Roman rule.53 In other places, suburbs developed organically around cities or were planned in sections, with grids following a number of differing alignments.54 As we have noted, public monuments were set over multiple insulae from the 1st c. AD, and sometimes earlier, disrupting street grids, in cities as different as Lyon and Ephesus.55 In many places, the principal avenues (called armatures by some scholars) came to be more 50  Street grids in Greek and Roman urban foundations: see n. 7 above. All of the works cited there describe Early Imperial modifications of urban design, after an initially more-regular Republican colonial phase. 51  Secondary centres not adopting street grids, Gaul: Drinkwater (1985) esp. 54–55 (grids a feature of municipia and coloniae but not conciliabula). Britain: Kenchester, Water Newton, Irchester and Alcester have organic street plans, in contrast to Alchester and Ilchester, which have grids: see Burnham and Wacher (1990) 70–76, 81–91, 92–97, 142–48, versus 62–70, 97–103. 52  Imposition of axial order, not extended to minor streets, at Gerasa: Seigne (2008) 169, 174–76; Seigne (1982) esp. 221–22. 53   Absence of grid: Kyaneai: Marksteiner (2008) 223–27; at Sagalassos and Ariassos: Martens (2008) esp. 192–94; Schultz (1992) 32, fig. 1. 54  Unplanned organic development, in early Roman suburbs, Africa: on Thamugadi and Cuicul see n. 66 below. Britain: Esmonde-Cleary (1987) 173–74, generally sees strip development along roads from cities and small towns, but note more complex irregular systems in n. 51 above; Gaul: Goodman (2007) 96–98 (Autun and Vienne in Gaul). Grids planned on different alignments, Lepcis Magna: Ward-Perkins (1982) 32–33. 55  Insulae merged for monuments from 1st c. AD: see appendix A4b.

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Philippopolis

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New urban foundations: Philippopolis (mid-5th c.) and Diocletianopolis (early 4th c.)

Lutetia Parisiorum (Paris)

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Replanned cities: Paris (early 4th c.) and Gorsium-Herculia (late 3rd–early 4th c.)

monumentally developed than other roads. Efforts were made to install monuments, such as arches and fountains, which could visually mask odd junctions.56 New cities with street grids were still being created, as late as 56   Theories of armatures: Macdonald (1986), developed by Laurence, Esmonde-Cleary, and Sears (2011) 115–34. Adaption of monumental vistas to irregularity with nymphaea, columns etc.: Macdonald (1986) 74–110.

the 3rd c. AD: the city founded by the emperor Philip (AD 244–49) at Philippopolis in Arabia (fig. B1) has a very strong grid. Nevertheless, it exhibits several deviations in its axes, meaning that not all angles were perpendicular. This was not revolutionary, although it is perhaps surprising to see it in an entirely new urban plan.57 57  New grid of 3rd c. Arabian Philippopolis: Brünnow and von Domaszewski (1909) 145–79; Butler (1903) 376–78 with fig. 130

23

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Dinogetia Iatrus

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Fort plans, 4th c.: el-Lejjun, Housesteads (4th c. state), Iatrus, Dinogetia

In the 4th c., urban foundations, or re-foundations, are more numerous, especially under the Tetrarchy and under Constantine, in regions close to the frontier. At Diocletianopolis (fig. B1), a new city was planned, whilst at Gorsium (renamed Herculia, now Tác) and at Paris [308–360], new streets were laid out, as these sites were comprehensively redeveloped (fig. B2). As I have noted, similar replanning seems to have accompanied the slightly later rebuilding of Tournai [342–45], where a new alignment, although not yet new streets, has been revealed. The initial urban form of Sura, or other 4th c. foundations on the eastern frontier, is not known.58 Diocletianopolis [287.5–300] does have a grid believed it to be a coherent rebuilding of an earlier settlement (attested by a single inscription), on account of the distinctive architecture found nowhere else in the Hauran. In terms of urban plan, type of buildings, architectural ornament, and construction methods. Segal (1988) 87 no. 47, suggests the poor architectural decoration is evidence of the date of the unified city foundation, incompletely built in a short period of Philip’s rule. 58  New urban grids of 4th c.: Paris, Tournai, Gorsium-Herculia (Tác), and Diocletianopolis: see appendix B7.

with identifiable rectangular insulae, although these are of varying widths: roads were set at different intervals within a parallel system. Other parts of the site, away from the main north-south axis, do not follow any grid, partly out of concessions to the topography. Paris’ new road system, on the Île-de-la-Cité, was also rectilinear in conception. Again, oblique angles existed away from the main axis, partly adapted to local topography, but streets were locally straight. The tiny city of Gorsium-Herculia [244–330] was given a basic perpendicular T-plan. This cannot be called a grid. Apart from the two axial streets, coming in from the gates, there is only a rough alignment of buildings, not a street system. The plan recalls those seen in some 4th–5th c. forts. These I will consider, as the issues addressed in their planning are almost identical to those seen in cities. Of late 3rd to 4th c. forts, El-Lejjūn in Jordan is the most similar to those of the Principate (fig. B3a). It has two streets meeting at a T-junction in the centre of the fort, with barrack blocks arranged off these roads in 4 parallel rows, showing some degree of symmetry. Nearby Daʽǧâniŷa (fig. B3b) also has an axial grid, though with insulae of different widths. The same pattern seems to

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Fort plans, tetrarchic: Daganiya (Syria) and Dionysias (Egypt)

prevail at the Egyptian fort of Nag al-Hagar, built in or shortly after 297/98. But these sites were not typical. Elsewhere, planning was most often limited to the definition of axial streets, as at Dionysias in Egypt (fig. B3b), built ca. 300 with one colonnaded street, dividing two courtyards. Kaiseraugst, built on the Upper Rhine within 310–54, had only two axial streets, crossing at slightly irregular angles, around which buildings were loosely arranged. Quite a few forts constructed in the late 3rd to 4th c. lacked internal buildings, or had barracks set along their fortifications, leaving courtyards in the centre, with just one or two structures.59 Sometimes, axial streets in forts were colonnaded, as at Cologne Deutz [320–30], Iatrus [300–325], El-Lejjūn [300–25], and Palmyra [273– 303] (fig. B4a), anticipating Diocletian’s palace at Split [298–312] (fig. B4b).60 The main avenues might intersect at a pseudo-tetrapylon (a quadrifons cross-hall), as they did at El-Lejjūn and at Palmyra, continuing a tradition seen earlier at Lambaesis (fig. B20b). A few, as at Dinogetia [ca. 300], lacked any strong organisation.61 Overall, the heterogeneity of fort plans from this era is remarkable when compared with the Early Imperial period. An impression is given that axial street plans were 59   Forts with street plans: see appendix B1. The small Constantinian fort at Castrum Divitia (Cologne Deutz) also maintains a rigid organisation of one axial street, partially colonnaded, with identical barracks arranged perpendicularly on either side creating a basic grid. 60  Forts with axes of one or two colonnaded streets: see appendix B2. 61  Tetrastyla (Luxor only) and ‘Tetrapyla’ inside forts: see appendix F6.

still fashionable in the late 3rd to 4th c. but were not now considered essential. Grids of any kind were a rarity. Yet it is difficult to see this as an active rejection of street grids: the older fort of Housesteads kept its well-ordered plan throughout the 4th c., despite the reconstruction of its barrack blocks as rows of chalets (fig. B3a); El-Lejjūn also retained its grid in its second phase rebuilding, of 350–75. Thus, if a fort had a grid, it would be maintained, but if it did not have a grid, it did not seem to matter. Such observations reveal that the tendencies visible in the planning of cities were part of wider trends. It is useful to consider this evidence as the number of new urban foundations of 4th c. date is relatively small, in relation to those from earlier centuries. Whilst these were recently investigated in a stimulating volume edited by E. Rizos, the cases explored revealed how little we know about their internal street organisation, in comparison to their fortification and topographical setting.62 Unfortunately, we still lack a street plan of the most important urban foundation of the period: Constantine’s New Rome, founded in 324. I say this in spite of the imaginative reconstruction offered by Berger, which uses building alignments, terraces, and other features, to reconstruct a hypothetical grid.63 Although this plan has many merits, it can only be treated as the expression of a series of stimulating ideas. On the basis of so 62  Forts retaining their plan, Housesteads: Crow (2004) 89–99; Rushworth (2009). El-Lejjūn: Parker and Betlyon (2006) e.g. 146–52; 164–69. New urban foundations in Late Antiquity: Rizos (2017). 63  Plan of Constantinople: Berger (1997); Berger (2000) 161–72, with commentary in appendix B7.

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Fort Plans: Camp of Diocletian, Palmyra and tetrarchic fort of Nag el-Hagar (?Praesentia), Egypt

little excavation, we cannot yet know in detail what type of planning was used in the new quarters of the city. Certainly, it would have been adapted to the challenges of the site’s hills and ravines. At least one portion of the new city, region 7, near the Forum of Theodosius, was characterised by parallel streets, as recorded by the Notitia Urbis of AD 425. Building alignments in this district of the city do suggest some regularity, but whether this was mathematical, or adapted to the topography, we cannot yet know. Elsewhere in the city, Berger has demonstrated that the old core of the pre-Constantinian settlement, between the former Isthmus / Milion and the Severan Wall, contained a grid of sorts, with irregular angles. It was cut diagonally by the Lower Mese. Such a style was not uncommon in cities developed under the Early Empire and had been used at Arabian Philippopolis. Constantine might well have continued in the same manner for his capital, perhaps with insulae of irregular widths set between parallel roads, with adaptations to local topography. An appreciation of grid planning is certainly visible in some large-scale urban developments within

existing cities, of 4th to early 5th c. date (fig. B5a). The Alexandrian quarter of Kom el-Dikka provides us with an opportunity, as it was rebuilt within the third quarter of the 4th c., after comprehensive destruction. The new streets, built at a higher level, generally perpetuated the earlier city grid, although some routes were suppressed, and a new orthogonally-aligned street was added. This continued a pattern of re-establishment, seen earlier at Philippopolis in Thrace [282–307], where streets were also reinstated at a higher level. In contrast, at Sitifis in Numidia [355–78], an entirely regular new orthogonal grid (the last of Antiquity) was established in a suburb. Here, rectangular insulae of ca. 38 m by 21 m were used (measuring from the middle of the streets); these were of a different size to the square insulae previously used in the city. At Ravenna, the eastern district was certainly replanned when the city became an imperial capital: abandoned roads, covered by Late Roman levels, attest to this. The work took place within the century that followed AD 402, probably just a few years after the move. If we accept that major ‘straight’ medieval streets in Ravenna were Late Roman in origin, and combine these

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The Palace of Diocletian at Split

alignments with the edges of extant monuments, it seems that a grid of large insulae of different sizes was employed for the palace, circus etc., with some slightly irregular angles, reusing a number of earlier roadways (fig. B5b). The result is not unlike the arrangement of the Campus Martius in Rome. Existing grids systems could also be extended mathematically by new urban development. At Carthage, within the late 4th to first quarter of the 5th c., new suburbs continued to expand the city’s grid, with no change to its design, whilst at Jerusalem the extension of the cardo to the south [500–543], followed an alignment which ran parallel to other northsouth streets within the existing urban plan, as had the new ‘Valley Cardo’, to its east [430–530]. Such conservative principles were being followed even in the later years of the 6th c. At Gortyn, [570–95], the reoccupation of an abandoned part of the city involved the

re-establishment of the Early Roman grid, by raising the slabs to a new level, above an intervening fill layer.64 There are other cases of less rigid, but still wellordered, suburban growth. At Athens, the urban expansion of the city during the later 4th c., back out beyond the mid-3rd c. Herulian walls, re-adopted the chaotic network of irregular streets laid down in earlier centuries. Elsewhere, suburban development was more ordered: in the 5th c. expansion at Classe, the port of Ravenna [425– 500], streets were straight and formal, but aligned with the waterfront rather than set perpendicularly against a single axis. At Scythopolis, a new quarter established around the amphitheatre, sometime within the late 4th

64  New and restored urban quarters: see appendix B7. Jerusalem Cardo: see appendix C3.

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Ravenna, showing the new urban quarter of the early 5th c., with irregular-sized rectangular insulae, potentially of large dimensions 0

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to early 6th c., had some straight streets, but with curved corners, winding around existing public buildings. This style did not represent an innovation: in the Early Imperial period, the same city also had a street system consisting of short stretches of straight road, adapted to the difficult natural terrain. A similar organisation was

used for the late southern quarters of Jerusalem, established in the 4th c. but paved during 457–82: straight stepped streets ran at irregular angles down onto the south side of the city. Here, the local topography (a series of ravines) was extremely challenging. The existing grid of the Hadrianic city could not easily be extended south.

28 The contrast between these old and new districts is clear from the later 6th c. Madaba mosaic: roof lines become more complex on the right-hand side of the map, where the two colonnaded streets disappear. But this does not mean that organically-developed alleyways replaced planned streets, here or elsewhere.65 We should discount the very irregular ‘Christian quarters’ of Cuicul and the western quarter of Thamugadi: it is not certain if these streets really are 4th–5th c. in date, rather than 3rd c. or earlier.66 A hiatus in the foundation of urban settlements, in the 5th c., causes difficulties for our study. We can begin again in the early 6th c., with the urban planning of Anastasius and Justinian. Unfortunately, ‘new towns’ of this era—Sergiopolis [475–518], Zenobia [ca. 550], and especially Justiniana Prima [535 and 573] (see fig. B6)—are not very representative of the wider urbanism of the period. They are relatively small in size, and can be considered ‘fortress cities’, rather than major population centres comparable to the urban communities of the East Mediterranean. The extension of Sura, in Mesopotamia [500–540], is also little known, even if a street grid of 3 by 4 insulae of ca. 50 m by 50 m seems to show itself in some air photos.67 A more realistic appraisal of urban planning during Justinian’s reign comes from considering the rebuilding of Antioch after the Persian sack of AD 540 [540–65]. This was the single most ambitious urban planning project of the age, although our knowledge of it is limited to a few trenches and a single literary description. Excavations have demonstrated that an attempt was made to rebuild and repair the streets of the city, following its original Hellenistic plan, a strategy which Procopius also describes. A similar policy could have been followed at Zenobia, where the subrectangular grid of the mid-6th c. city may have been 65  New suburban quarters: see appendix B7. Jerusalem: see appendix J1. Pella: see appendix B7. 66  New quarters, not entirely late antique: Cuicul: the eastern quarter boasts an impressive episcopal complex. Because of its position on the edge of town, this is likely a new addition. However, early baths under the nearby apsidal hall reveal that much of this quarter is likely to have existed in the Early Imperial period, as was certainly true of that south of the main road which runs through it: Fevrier (1968) 62–63. This district had a loose sub-rectangular street system, a common pattern for cities that had grown out of indigenous settlements, here in Arabia or Gaul. Thamugadi: It is difficult to trace datable expansion beyond the Donatist cathedral and its annexes: Lassus (1969) 15. The area to the west of the city is not definitely a 4th c. development, as can be seen from the dates of buildings within it, which include temples: 69–78. Sondages are needed in both of these cities, though of course very unlikely in present conditions. 67  New fortress cities of Justinian: Zanini (2003) 196–224, with references to previous literature, complemented by Carità (2004).

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adopted from an earlier settlement, either dating from the time of Anastasius or much earlier. Sergiopolis was given a somewhat looser ‘rectilinear street system’, with many irregular angles. This did not amount to a systematic grid. The system was not imposed on the whole site, which seems to have had some pre-existing organicallydeveloped streets. From both Justinian’s new towns and his work in other cities, it is clear that the presence of one or two colonnaded axial streets, leading in from fortification gates, was again more important than a grid. The centrality of the colonnaded street, noted by Claude, is confirmed.68 Similar trends can be seen in forts of 5th–6th c. date along the Lower Danube. At Troesmis in Scythia Minor, the plan, presumed to have been laid down in the time of Justinian, shows that two main axes do survive, although they are not accentuated; beyond this, there is only a roughly rectilinear street system, too irregular to be considered a grid (fig. B7).69 However, the situation in other 5th–6th c. forts, which are smaller, is far more chaotic. At Iatrus, a fort established in the first quarter of the 4th c. was replanned a number of times during the 5th to 6th c.: the rectangular street system, with a colonnaded main avenue, became a disjointed warren of alleyways, especially in the second quarter of the 5th c. At Dinogetia, a strong axial organisation had never existed, even when the fort was built in ca. 300; in the later 6th c., after a destruction by fire, the street organisation continued to be one of alleyways. Smaller fortresses of this date in the Lower Danube region were similarly chaotic.70 Elsewhere, we do not yet know the 5th–6th c. layout of military camps. At least at El-Lejjūn, after an earthquake (of ‘AD 502’), we can state that the main axes were again re-established [502–551].71 Complementary insights into street grids also come from some semi-urban bourgades. A significant number were entirely unplanned, with chaotic winding streets, like some organic Roman ‘small towns’ of earlier centuries. Here, it is sensible only to look at a selection, as the dating of bourgades is not always well-established, especially as the confusing nature of their streets mean that it is hard to establish a firm dated sequence of street development: they may be occupied long after Late Antiquity, like Kastron Mefa’a (Um er-Rasas) in Jordan, initially built as fort ca. 300 “structured around two orthogonal ways”, from which grew a warren of alleyways, after it 68  Urban rebuilding under Anastasius or Justinian: Antioch in Syria, Zenobia and Sergiopolis: see appendices B7 with C3 (for Antioch). Centrality of colonnaded street in urban design of 6th c. city: Claude (1969) 60. 69  Forts with some planning, 5th–6th c.: see appendix B3. 70  Forts with no planning, 5th–6th c.: see appendix B4. Lower Danube smaller fortresses: Dintchev (2007). 71  El-Lejjūn: re-establishment of order see appendix B2.

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N

Resafa

Zenobia

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A

A

P

A = arch P = piered monument

Justiniana Prima

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New urban foundations of the 6th c.: Resafa-Sergiopolis, Zenobia, and Justiniana Prima

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figure b7

100m

Troesmis, plan of 6th c. fortress, from 19th c. survey

became a bourgade in the 5th c., lasting into the 9th c. Late antique examples of irregular bourgades, also in the Levant, include the 4th to 8th c. settlement of Shivta, and the 4th–7th c. settlement of ‘Castra Porphyreion’ (Kfar Samir) (fig. B8).72 Other sites show more structure. Trimithis (Amheida) in Egypt, a 4th c. settlement (officially a city but with no public monuments) eschewed a grid but exhibits sub-rectangular alignments. Dobrika, a 4th–6th c. fortified village in Istria, also had a street system with some rectilinearity, produced by the constraints of earlier constructions, but no grid of any kind. Arif, a foundation of ca. 425 in Lycia, boasts two major routes, from which loosely rectilinear minor streets lead off (see fig. B8). This was the last place, where a ‘grid’ was used, away from imperial projects. To get a better idea of the aesthetics of urban planning in the 5th to 6th c. we must turn to a more substantial settlement, still a bourgade but big and important enough to rival a city: the large pilgrimage settlement of Abu Mina, close to Alexandria. This grew up from 385 to 619, especially after 475. The settlement is so highly developed, with colonnaded streets, fortifications, and public buildings, that I have included it as ‘urban’ in all 72  Bourgades without street planning: see appendix B5. Kastron Mefa’a: see plan in Wirth (2000) 36 fig. 17, and brief outline of development with bibliography in al-Taher et al (no date, after 2014) 10–11, from whom the quote is taken. I have not been able to locate a recent synthesis on the development of the site with clear supporting evidence.

parts of this book. Its network of streets is loosely composed, though by no means formless. There are several straight streets, arranged around generally rectangular buildings. Yet, even along the main colonnaded avenue, there are no perpendicular angles (fig. B9a): the main street attempted to unify a settlement which had initially grown up in a piecemeal fashion.73 One might call Abu Mina’s style ‘organic rectilinearity’, whereby individual building operations were undertaken, one after another, in well-planned local units. Buildings, plazas, or sections of street with sewers and water pipes, were fitted alongside each other in a fairly comfortable manner. But there was no foresight to provide the settlement with a grid of linear property boundaries into which it might grow and develop in a harmonious, geometric fashion. This was a ‘small-scale’ / pragmatic version of classical urban planning, focused on resolving immediate problems, not on projecting geometric abstractions. Lest one think that Abu Mina is a special case, we should now turn to another Egyptian site. This is Marea/Philoxenite (fig. B9b), currently under investigation by Tomasz Derda and Mariusz Gwiazda of Warsaw University (pers. comm). A similar bourgade has been revealled, although planned as a unified development. Its major planned streets seem to date from the earlier 6th c. We see a main axial avenue leading to a sanctuary church, supported by 73  Bourgades with some planning: see appendix B6.

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Trimithis

Shivta

Arif

Castra Porphyreion

0

figure b8

200m

Late Antique bourgades: Trithimis (Amheida), Shivta, ?Castra Porphyreon (Kafr Samir), and Arif

straight secondary streets, set in a rectilinear system, with variant angles and no overall grid. If all constituent elements of late antique street planning are taken together, its most obvious characteristic seems to be a preference for strong axial colonnaded avenues, leading in from fortification gates, crossing at a tetrapylon or equivalent monument. This model is especially clear when new streets were conceived as architectural unities: that is, when they were planned, probably from an architect’s instructions, and executed in a single operation. A description of a planned urban project is recorded at Antioch, during the reign of Zeno (AD 474–91), where the senator Mammianos built ‘two

imperial colonnades, very beautiful in their architecture, and in the brilliant and translucent marble of their decoration’ … and … ‘as a kind of boundary between the two imperial colonnades, he erected a tetrapylon, with very refined adornments of columns and bronze statues’ (Malalas 15.11, reconstructed from Evagr. Hist. eccl. 3.28). This description echoes a building project of AD 362/63 recorded in an inscription from Cirta Constantina, in which a cross-hall tetrapylon was built along with porticoes and a basilica Constantiana: b]asi[licam] | Con[stan[t]ianam cum porticibus et tetrapylo const[i] tuendam. This too sounds like the construction of a premeditated urban scheme, of the style discussed earlier,

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200m Abu Mina, a large bourgade, of 5th–6th c. date, installed around a pilgrimage site

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Figure B9B

200m

‘Marea’ / Philoxenite, a bourgade with major planned streets of earlier 6th c. date, revealed by Warsaw university led by T. Derda and M. Kutiak, with plan undertaken by Andrzej B. Kutiak, redrawn for this book

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Jerusalem (Palace Quarter)

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‘Anjar figure b10

Umayyad urban planning in the Levant: the palace quarter of Jerusalem and the new foundation of ʿAnjar

with two colonnaded streets crossing at a tetrapylon or tetrakionion. There was still a desire to work with orthogonal street grids, especially in the 4th c., but this seems to have yielded to a weaker aspiration to produce rectilinearity, in which geometry took second place to a semblance of classical order, ultimately represented by short sections of straight streets, along which rectangular buildings were set. Thus, it is possible to concur with the suggestion of Hillenbrand that the early 8th c. Umayyad site of ʿAnjar, in Lebanon, stands firmly within a late antique tradition of classical urban planning, rather than being some throwback to a Roman colony. Similarly, the Umayyad quarter of Jerusalem similarly shows no desire to depart from orthogonal planning (fig. B10).74 ʿAnjar had a rectilinear street system, coming close to a grid, although with rather too many compromises to qualify. It was organised around two great colonnaded streets, leading from the gates and intersecting at a tetrakionion. Whilst one might see ʿAnjar as resembling Justiniana Prima and Zenobia or a late antique fort, this settlement also reflected the character of many eastern cities, in which urban design was focused on major colonnaded avenues, leading from the main gates in their city wall, frequently intersecting at a tetrapylon, tetrakionion, or tetrastylon.75 This ‘late antique’ urban model was not able to assert itself quite as strongly as had those of earlier centuries, perhaps due to the small number of cities founded in 74  ʿAnjar interpretation as a Roman colony: Hillenbrand (1999) 59–98. 75   Four-way monuments: see appendices F1–F6.

this period. Around 95% of cities occupied in the 4th– 6th c. AD saw no new streets built, but rather used those laid down in earlier centuries. The nature of urban planning in Late Antiquity can perhaps be most easily seen in these existing settlements, where monumental streets continued to be developed, as we will now explore. Both new and old urban centres witnessed the progressive rise of major axes, at the expense of minor streets, within what had once been more egalitarian and rational grids. This was a gradual development, that had been underway since at least the Late Hellenistic period, but which, by the 6th c., reached the point of challenging, if not overturning, early classical conceptions of urban order. All these developments occurred slowly during Late Antiquity, as they had earlier: in the 4th c., new cities with street grids were built alongside new cities with axial streets and rectilinear back alleys, which reappear later, in the 6th. Unplanned organic urban development also continued, just as it had in the Early Imperial period. At the same time, late antique civic authorities took measures to improve winding suburban roads, as will be considered shortly. Monumental Streets in Late Antiquity Monumental streets, especially as the main axes of an urban centre, were a distinctive feature of medium to large cities in the East Mediterranean, reaching their greatest diffusion in the 6th c.76 New avenues were built 76  For a definition of ‘monumentality’, used in this study, see the start of the section on minor streets.

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in this period, in Britain, Africa, Italy, the Balkans, Asia Minor, and the Levant, reaching their greatest diffusion in the 6th c.77 As has been noted, not all monumental streets were colonnaded, but it is true that unified porticoes became increasingly characteristic of the main avenues of larger cities during Late Antiquity. Indeed, colonnaded streets are very prominent in artistic and literary urban images of the time. They are visible on depictions of Constantinople (on the Column of Arcadius); of the heavenly Jerusalem (in a mosaic from S. Maria Maggiore); and of earthly Ascalon and Jerusalem (on the Madaba mosaic).78 Contemporary authors exhibit pride in these avenues as an important aspect of urban status, described in the writings of Libanius on 4th c. Nicomedia and Antioch, in the Chronicle of pseudo-Joshua Stylites on 5th c. Edessa, and in Procopius’ Buildings on 6th c. Melitene. Libanius saw colonnaded streets as a feature of distinction for his city. They separated Antioch from more humble communities, which could not offer their citizens the all-weather protection provided by street porticoes. He was happy to place the colonnaded streets in first position, in his rhetorical description of his home city, giving them more lines than any other monument. Even the emperor Julian, hardly a lover of Antioch, noted that the finest areas of the city were its avenues.79 A few words are needed on the definition of ‘colonnaded streets.’ These, I consider to be streets lined with two continuous porticoes. Where a single long portico was built together at the same time as cellular shops or road paving, it seems fair to classify the whole work as a new single-sided colonnaded street. Therefore, I have admitted the Marble Street [410–36] and the Clivus Sacer at Ephesus [410–436], and the street by the basilica at Aphrodisias [300–400]. It is also tempting to class the Portico Placidiana on the harbour mole at 77  For new colonnaded streets, street porticoes etc. see appendices C1–C5. 78  Colonnaded streets in artistic urban images: Constantinople, shown on Column of Arcadius: see appendix C3 on Lower Mese first phase; Ascalon and Jerusalem: the Madaba mosaic shows Justinian’s Nea church and thus likely dates to the mid or later 6th c., as the church was inaugurated in AD 543, as described by Pullan (1997) 165–68. Heavenly Jerusalem, S. Maria Maggiore: Dey (2011) 145 fig. 3.2. 79  Pride in monumental streets: Nicomedia: Lib. Or. 61.17: ‘where are now thy winding walks? (στενωποί) where are thy porticoes? (στοαί), where are thy courses, thy fountains, thy courts of judicature, thy libraries, thy temples?…. Baths … senate … people … women … palace … circus … aqueduct and reservoirs …’ Antioch: Lib. Or. 11.196–99, 11.215–17; Julian, Mis. 355B; Malalas 15.11 (from Evagr. Hist. eccl. 3.28). Melitene: Procop. Aed. 3.4.18 description of what makes a great city: shrines, residences for magistrates, market-place, streets and stoas, baths and theatres. Description of late 5th c. urban environment: Josh. Styl. 41 (AD 500/501) ‘streets and colonnades’.

35 Portus [425–50] as a one-porticoed colonnaded street, although we know nothing of the road surface and porticoes often made up part of harbour architecture.80 In all of these cases, a single portico seems to have been chosen only due to the constraints of the wider architectural setting. We might want to consider the alternative notion of ‘porticoed streets’, noting that the essential amenity of these avenues is to provide covered lateral passages to the pedestrian and space for shop keepers to expose produce, not colonnades for architectural historians to classify. This is true up to a point, with a number of sources, from the 3rd to 6th c., stating that porticoes were used by pedestrians as passages protected from both rain and sun.81 However, I note the existence of colonnades, which stand in front of blank walls without shops, at Scupi [312.5–337.5], Stobi [425– 50], and Ephesus (Arcadiane, final phase south portico) [550–610], Embolos (Curetes Stoa) [550], and Abu Mina [475–619]. An Early Imperial example comes from the main street of Hierapolis.82 There are also late colonnaded streets where the portico is purely decorative, being attached to the wall without space for even a child to squeeze through it, blocking the portico / sidewalk entirely, as at Salona [554–62] and Ephesus [250–614].83 Thus, for me, the term ‘colonnaded street’ does retain some validity over ‘porticoed street’, even if I prefer to talk of ‘monumental streets’ where possible, so as to include cases where a programme of extensive monumental improvement did not include porticoes. The great colonnaded streets of the East were paved, porticoed, and occasionally lit by public oil lamps.84 By the late antique period, they were punctuated by gates, arches, nymphaea, and other decorative monuments. Shops were usually, though not always, constructed along these routes, in rows of cellular units, lining one or both sides. They can be seen as a component of late antique monumental streets, on 2 occasions at 2 sites in the West and on 29 occasions at 13 sites in the East: at Carthago Nova [387.5–425, one side only excavated], at Milan [346–71, possibly], at Thracian Philippopolis [364–89], at Constantinople [Upper Mese, 324–330], at Aizanoi [402–47], at Sardis twice [in 400–425 and 80   Single-sided porticoes streets: see appendices C3 and C4. 81  ‘Porticoed street’ as a term of analysis: Mango M. (2000) 203– 204 and (2001) passim prefers it, in the same manner as most French scholarship, like Saliou (2005), whilst Burns (2017) uses ‘colonnaded street’. On street porticoes providing protection from rain and sun, see the chapter on everyday street life. 82   Colonnades fronting blank walls: appendices C3, C4, A11 (Hierapolis). 83  Colonnaded streets with a decorative the portico: see appendix C3. 84  Monumental streets, in the Late Hellenistic and Early Imperial periods: Jaroslava Williams (1979); Segal (1997) 5–53; Bejor (1999), extending briefly to Late Antiquity in 98–112.

36 395–420], at Ephesus [in 395–408, and on 4 streets in 576–601, perhaps hiding early 5th c. shops], at Aphrodisias [300–400], at Side [undated within Late Antiquity], at Bostra [twice, 500–600 and undated], at Scythopolis [300–400], at Jerusalem [twice, in 430–530 and 500–540], at Justiniana Prima [4 streets in 535–73], at Constantinople again [Lower Mese, 532–37], at Abu Mina [3 streets in 475–619] and at ʿAnjar [4 streets in 709–50].85 These rows of shops were fronted by the covered porticoes, which shopkeepers had some legal rights to use.86 Porticoes were supported by marble columns, or occasionally by piers. They may have created an ordered ‘wall’ of columns, drawing the view down the great streets, rhythmically punctuating the passage of visitors. This interpretation has been suggested by the architectural historian W. MacDonald. Unfortunately, comparable ancient insights, if they existed, do not survive. We simply do not know if colonnades were appreciated in Antiquity in the same manner as they are today.87 Occasionally, late antique porticoes had an upper colonnade on a second storey (as at Constantinople, Milan, Thracian Philippopolis, Athens, Ephesus, Aphrodisias, Caesarea Palestinae) (see figs. B13c and B13e), or even a third modest porticoed level (as at another site in Athens). Second storey dimensions can be calculated in three cases: at Athens, where an upper Ionic colonnade had a height of 2.43 m (8.95 m max ground to cornice); at Aphrodisias, where it was 3 m (8 m ground to cornice) and at Ephesus, where the reconstructed height was 2.97 m (11.5 m ground to cornice). At Athens, at the Library of Pantainos site, traces of screens have been found, set between the upper storey columns of the street portico, rising 0.82 m high, so providing a balustrade (fig. B13e). The existence of two storeys does not necessarily imply two levels of shops: we can only attest to an upper level being used for retail at Constantinople. At Aphrodisias, the upper storey held a long gallery, ornamented first with pilasters decorated by erotes [400–25], then with a black and white diagonal tile floor [500–614]. This space served as an elevated passage, connecting a series of smart houses, which could be entered from it, rather than serving shops. Similarly, we hear of raised corridors at Constantinople, linking the palace to Hagia Sophia. At Ephesus, the upper storey of the mid-6th c. Curetes Stoa had a gallery from which to view the Embolos, or perhaps an audience hall, which was connected to the Baths of Scholasticia. A masonry 85  Shops constructed as part of new monumental streets: see appendices C2–C3 plus Y4. For ʿAnjar: see appendix F1. 86  Rights of shops to use porticoes: see chapter on shops. 87   Reaction of modern architects to colonnaded streets: Macdonald (1986) 48.

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staircase, on the Marble Street portico, in the same city, may have led to a second storey there. In the eastern capital, wooden stairs originally connected the upper porticoes to lower floors. These stairs had to be replaced by stone steps under the terms of a law of AD 406.88 In many cities, upper levels, when lacking an upper portico, supported rooms probably used for living space or storage, by shop owners selling at ground level, just as one might use roof space as a mezzanine in a single storey unit. Paved sidewalks in the East Mediterranean actually passed in front of colonnades, between them and the road, revealing that the porticoes were not just pedestrian routes for those passing along the street. Rather, we can think of them being built to shelter people browsing in the shops and to provide cover for the display of wares outside artisanal doorways.89 Remarkably, Ostia provides an Early Imperial example of a street portico that was entirely walled off from the street, whilst remaining open to the shops behind. Something similar has been observed at Malain in Gaul, from before AD 250. Thus, the legal conception of porticoes as spaces connected to shops, rather than just as spaces connected to the street, does find some structural confirmation.90 New colonnaded streets were built both within new urban foundations, and also within existing cities. By ‘newly-built’, I include not only entirely new colonnaded 88  Upper level of portico used for retail at Constantinople: Cod. Theod. 15.1.45 (AD 406), relating to wooden constructions fixed between the columns in the upper storey porticoes and related stairs. Saliou demonstrates that these wooden structures are likely to be stalls, such as feature in Lib. Or. 26.20–23 and 11.254; see Saliou (2005) 207–24. For examples: see Milan, (based on wall thickness, appendix C2); Thracian Philippopolis, Constantinople (Lower Mese, Justinianic rebuild), Ephesus street on south side of Upper Agora?, Aphrodisias north-south colonnaded street, east portico) (all C3); Ephesus Curetes Stoa, Athens, Broad Street, Caesarea Palestinae cardo W1 (all C4), Constantinople, streets around the Chalke (F7a). Julian of Ascalon 37.2 implies that three storeys might be present within a single level portico, two at colonnade height, and one above the colonnade. This likely relates to the exceptionally high near-eastern colonnades with which he was familiar, which were not built anew to the same heights in Late Antiquity (see fig. 9 in the edition of Saliou (1996b), with discussion on 116–18). 89  Road sidewalks fronting porticoes: see appendix C7. Shops using street frontage to display wares: MacMahon (2003) 105– 10, 116–18 (on use of counters / threshold) in the Early Imperial period, and see the chapter on shops. 90  Street porticoes walled off from the street, but kept open to the shops behind at Ostia: Magazzini Republicani (II.ii.1), with shops facing into portico keeping pre-Domitianic street level): Pavolini (2006) 55, Schoevart (2013) catalogue 129–30, with Wilson (1935) on chronology of buildings to the north; Malain (La Bousière), before AD 250: Frakes (2009) 87–88, 260–63 (catalogue no. 81).

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figure b11a

Late antique colonnaded streets: Thracian Philippopolis, Aizanoi, Ephesus (Upper Embolos), and Jerusalem

streets but also others which were entirely rebuilt as monumental avenues in this period. These I consider where at least two major elements were rebuilt together. In new urban foundations, streets lined with cellular shops were of course a common element, as at 6th c. Justiniana Prima [4 in 535–73 and one in 535–616] and at Zenobia [4, ca. 550], as they had been at later 3rd to early 4th c. Gorsium-Herculia [244–330]. Within existing cities, examples of new or entirely refurbished colonnaded streets dating from Late Antiquity are known on 10 occasions at 9 sites in the West, and on 66 occasions at 27 sites in the East. Fig. B11a brings together some of the better-preserved examples. Today, one perhaps only really perceives their architectural potential within the street surviving inside Diocletian’s palace at Split (fig. B11b), or from mosaic depictions. The distribution of sites with new building (Map 1), for the 4th c., covers most of the Roman world. Trier is unexpectedly absent, but here excavations have so far uncovered only one side of any colonnaded street. The distribution then shrinks back, in the third quarter of the 5th c., to Constantinople and Athens, before recovering in the late 5th to 6th c. to extend again across western Asia Minor and favoured imperial centres of the East. Outliers at Classe and Salona,

perhaps both echo late developments at Ravenna. Examples at Abu Mina perhaps reflect the streets of Alexandria, about which we know relatively little.91 Examples of new colonnaded streets within existing cities are known at: Cirencester [260–85], Carthago Nova [387.5–425], Milan [346–71], Classe [526–50], Rome twice [Porticus Maximae 379–83 inscr., Porticus Petri 314–537 text], Cirta Constantina [362/63 inscr.], Thibilis [375–78 inscr.], Thamugadi [290–93 inscr.], Salona [554–62], Scupi [312.5–337.5], Stobi [425–50], Thessalonica [299–311], Athens [2, 450–75 and 400– 412.5], Argos [364–89], Thracian Philippopolis [364–89], Nicomedia [302–305 text], Constantinople new city [324–330 text, 324–330, one in 394–95 text, rebuild in 447–55 text, rebuild 532–37 + 3 major 6th c. repairs texts], Constantinople old city [Regia 328 text, Lower Mese with 6 major repairs after 406, 475, 498, 512/13, 532–37 and 603 texts], Constantinople St. Mamas suburb [469 texts], Aizanoi [402–47], Sardis twice [in 400–425 and 395–420], Ephesus [in 395–408, 550–610, 410–36 on 3 streets, 250–614, 576–601 on 4 streets, 576–614 on one street], Laodicea ad Lycum four times 91  New monumental streets: see appendices C2–C3.

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figure b11b

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The southernmost colonnaded street of Diocletianʼs Palace, Split, early 4th c.

[253–305, 387.5–494, 494–610, 494–614], Aphrodisias twice [300–400, 400–425], Sagalassos twice [450–575, 500–550], Side [324–614], Antioch three times [383– 84? text, 474–91 text, 540–65], Apamea [487.5–512.5], Beirut [300–600], Palmyra [restoration 327/28], Bostra [500–600], Sergiopolis [475–518], Scythopolis 3 times [300–400, 395–404, 400–500], Tiberias [200?–400?], Jerusalem twice [430–530, 500–543], Gaza [510–520, probably, text], Abu Mina 3 times [476–619] and Ptolemais [301–408]. There are also a large number of other building works and repairs, in which architectural elements relating to individual elements of monumental streets were renewed. Of these, it is better to consider street porticoes here, as they had a central role in monumentalising avenues, perhaps more than any other urban element, making the pattern of new building significant. New / comprehensively rebuilt street porticoes are widely known. Inscriptions inform us that they were built in 14 cases at 11 sites in the West and in 2 cases at 2 sites in the East: at Beneventum [292–410], Rome [3, 312–30, 367– 75, 390*], Portus* [425–50], Cirta Constantina [367–75], Lambaesis [350–400], Thabarbusis [374], Theveste [285– 439], Sicca Veneria [286–439], Civitas Furc … [382–93], Thubursicu Bure [285–439], and Thala twice [286–91,

287–88]. There is an impressive amount of evidence for Africa and Italy. Indeed, of street portico inscriptions, only two are known elsewhere [Ephesus, Alytarch Stoa, 410–36] and possibly at Sepphoris* [460–614]. However, in most of these cases, the exact nature of rebuilding is uncertain, and the absence of an archaeological match for the inscriptions concerned is a little worrying (* = those with high level of certainty). Perhaps, in Africa a strong epigraphic habit is causing the region to be over-represented. The extent of ‘new’ works and repairs may be being exaggerated here. Archaeological and textual evidence both provide a quite different distribution pattern for new / rebuilt porticoes than do inscriptions. New structures are attested on 15 occasions at 9 sites in the West and on 34 occasions at 25 sites in the East, making the latter region more dominant, in contradiction of the epigraphic evidence. They are known at Cirencester [300–325], Trier 4 times [269–395, 269–395, 270–95, 270–95], Argentomagus [360–95], Autun [260–375], Milan [312–402], Rome [314–537 text], Ostia [385–89], Carthage 4 times [250–525 by 3, 306–65], Carnuntum [250–400], Sala [ca. 360], Serdica [undated], Justiniana Prima [535–616], Philippi 3 times [536–616, undated, 250–616], Athens twice [383–616, 400–625], Gortyn [382–616], Abritus

Street Architecture in Late Antiquity

[337–400], Histria [487.5–512.5], Constantinople 3 times [324–616 depiction, 415 text, 415–430], Sardis [250–425], Ephesus twice [410–36, 550], Tripolis ad Meandrum [300–400], Hierapolis in Phyrgia [250–565], Side [250– 614], Antioch ad Cragum [250–614], Elaiussa Sebaste [undated], Anazarbos [250–614], Antioch in Syria [359 text], Beirut [430–50], Zenobia [550], Bostra [400–500], Scythopolis [400–404], Caesarea Palestinae 3 times [200–300, 400–600, 400–450], Alexandria twice [350– 75], Abu Mina [475–619], and Syene / Aswan [350–400]. Minor repairs to street porticoes, excluding work on floors, are known on 9 occasions at 7 sites in the West and on 17 occasions at 13 sites in the East: at Gloucester [200–325, on a veranda], Lucus Feroniae twice [rebuilding, then reinforcement, both 250–544.5], Rome twice [374 inscr., 457–67 inscr.], Ostia [346–71], Grumentum [undated], Cirta Constantina [undated], Henchir Tout el-Kaya [367/77], Stobi [425–616], Thasos [undated], Athens 3 times [272–400, ca. 400, 500–600], Constantinople [448 text], Laodicea ad Lycum [494– 610], Aphrodisias [360s], Sagalassos [393–418], Side [460–614 inscr.], Antioch 3 times [384.5 text, 386 text, 386 text, all relating to paintwork], Apamea [450–650], Edessa [497.5, whitewashing], Jerusalem [undated, but after 500 and likely late antique or Umayyad], and Abu Mina [475–619]. In terms of chronological spread, for both newly built porticoes and repairs to porticoes, it seems that the 4th c. was the only period of activity in the West, with the Rome area going into the first half of the 5th c., whilst in the East there was steady activity from the 4th to 6th c., with a dip in the mid-5th c. when works were confined to Constantinople and Palestine, before a 6th c. recovery in which southern Balkan cities are prominent.92 Sometimes, new porticoes were developed along short sections of streets. Thus, over time, ‘incremental colonnaded streets’ took shape, as individual porticoes came to join up with one another. An early example of this process, complete by the mid-3rd c., is the main avenue of Palmyra. Late antique examples include the lower Embolos of Ephesus, and to lesser degrees, cardo W1 at Caesarea Palestinae, and the Decumanus of Ostia. Elsewhere, the West had a slightly different tradition. At Carthage, short sections of porticoes fronted individual buildings, public or private, a pattern that had been common in the West since Early Imperial times. Due to their variety, one suspects these features were required by civic regulations but built by contractors individually. In the mid-6th c. at Classe, port of Ravenna, here a major street is lined entirely by individual building porches, largely private, with another set of porches 92  Porticoes, building work: see appendices C4–C5.

39 facing out on the water behind. But this pattern is not found elsewhere in the 4th to 6th c. We do see very large public buildings fronted by self-contained porticoes, that constitute huge monumental vestibule-porches; this continued into the late antique period, at Trier Kaiserthermen, Milan S. Lorenzo or Theodosian Hagia Sophia. Alternatively, we see more typical porticoes, built in uniform style but for small sections of buildings, as at Ephesus (Lower Embolos) and at Caesarea Palestinae. Sometimes, more extensive porticoes, serving several structures at a time, were built, but on one side of the street not the other, meaning that one had to change sides of the road to keep walking in their shade. We know of at least one portico built in a manner that recalled a traditional Greek stoa, without openings in its lateral walls, on the Panathenaic Way in Athens, sometime after 400. Here, it was not possible to pass from portico to portico without going out onto the roadway. The same is true of the Curetes Stoa at Ephesus, ca. 550. Yet, these were exceptions in portico design in Late Antiquity and should not be taken as representing a robust survival of the Classical-Hellenistic tradition of stoa building. Usually, passage between porticoes was possible. Even the portico-porches of great public buildings might be open to pedestrians at either short end, to permit passage through them, as at Milan, and probably at Trier.93 Incremental colonnaded streets were actually far less common in Late Antiquity than were planned colonnaded streets, with their long porticoes, built together on both sides of a road, often with associated shops, a road pavement, or other features. Such planned colonnaded streets were perhaps most common on routes leading towards a city gate or arch, which late antique urban architects seemed to want to draw together into a coherent urban unit, as at Cirta Constantina, Rome (Porticus Maximae), Philippopolis, Ephesus (Upper Embolos), and Constantinople (Troadesian Porticoes). Such planned colonnaded streets could be constructed as part of a new settlement, as at Justiniana Prima and Constantinian Constantinople, or added as part of a new quarter, as at Sardis and Abu Mina east-west street. Others were set into older areas, as at Aizanoi, Ephesus ‘Plateia in Coressus’, and Abu Mina’s north-south street. In the last case, great efforts were made to improve an unplanned and winding road, by adding colonnades. More often, a straight street was adopted and narrowed by the addition of colonnades. On a few occasions, a 93  On single-sided porticoes, as on the Embolos at Ephesus: see appendix C4. On porticoes fronting individual buildings: see Frakes (2009) 7, 84–85 who notes that one-sided street porticoes are most common in 1st to 2nd c. AD Gaul.

40 colonnaded street was cut through an existing street grid at an angle, as at Philippopolis, although this was rare. Alternatively, porticoes were created by cutting back into public and private buildings lining a street. This happened at Cirencester, Argentomagus, Antioch (likely), and Ptolemais. My views here do not imply anything about earlier periods: incremental colonnaded streets might well have been the norm in some regions in the first three centuries AD, but it is beyond the scope of this work to survey them.94 In many cities, in both East and West, one has the impression that a late colonnaded street was added to or planned into a settlement as the main element of street art, as a political act by public authorities, resulting in long planned porticoes. The contrast with minor streets was very great in such systems, where there were no colonnades, sidewalks, or other related features. However, in a few sites, where investment in street architecture is very great, one sees some evidence of a gradual hierarchy in the treatment of streets. Thus, at Justiniana Prima and Zenobia one finds single examples of minor streets, leading onto major colonnaded avenues, where a portico exists on one side of the roadway, where there could have been two. At Constantinople, the street portico of the Chalkoprateia (a lesser avenue leading from the Mese) is visibly made up of several sections of different dimensions. This, alongside other evidence, gives one the impression that a complex hierarchy of porticoes existed in the eastern capital. In the very heart of the city, major monumental buildings, such as Hagia Sophia, had great entrance-porticoes, built up on steps, which introduced an element of irregularity. Leading from them, large colonnaded porticoes, like the Regia or the Mese, tied the city into a more planned monumental framework, culminating in a climax at a tetrapylon or a gate in the fortifications. Yet, away from main avenues, porticoes again broke down into individual sections, likely on account of private rather than public initiatives. This is a logical urban model, one which might find parallels in Early Imperial incremental colonnaded streets. However, this Constantinopolitan pattern is not the dominant model suggested by evidence elsewhere for Late Antiquity, which reveals a much sharper contrast between planned colonnaded streets and minor roads lacking in monumental investment. Overall, colonnaded streets, whether in new or old cities, reached their greatest popularity in the third and fourth quarters of the 6th c. (graph 3), at an astonishingly high level, with a smaller peak in the early 5th, in each 94  Saliou reveals, from epigraphy and archaeology, that porticoes could be divided conceptually into individual sections on one side of a street, even within the colonnaded streets of Palmyra: Saliou (1996a) 319–20.

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case set against general trends. Individual street porticoes (graph 4) saw their peak in investment earlier, in the third quarter of the 4th c., as if they were squeezed out as systematic colonnading took over. When taken together, construction seems regionally to reflect relative levels of prosperity and pre-existing interest. Nonetheless, cultural and political changes are visible. Clearly, colonnaded avenues were still characteristic of the Greek East, but some cities of the 4th c. West sought to emulate them, even the distant provincial capital of Cirencester. The porticoes of Ostia and Portus are both late enough to be interpreted as attempts to imitate Constantinople. But porticoes were never as important to urban organisation in Rome or its satellite cities as they were to eastern cities, where they were built and maintained throughout the period. The extension of colonnaded streets to the northern Balkans (at Thessalonica, Scupi, Stobi, Thracian Philippopolis, Serdica, and Gorsium) seems to be a new development. This drift pre-dates the foundation of Constantinople, perhaps reflecting the glow of Tetrarchic Nicomedia. As stated earlier, colonnaded avenues seem to be characteristic of medium and larger cities. One might further notice that colonnaded streets were often built in cities enjoying an imperial presence, as at Milan, Thessalonica, and Constantinople, with porticoes on at least one side of streets at Trier. In the 6th c., the incidence of colonnaded streets does seem to be associated with imperial projects, but not entirely: we see the development of Abu Mina in the 6th to early 7th c. making great use of colonnaded streets, and also a comprehensive rebuilding at Ephesus of the porticoes in 576–601 on 4 streets, just as there are examples from Sardis, Laodicea, and Bostra. In relative terms, one can talk about a late antique fashion for these monumental avenues, when compared say to investment in theatres or civic political buildings. The greatest diffusion of colonnaded streets was certainly reached in the 6th c., even if some of the most elaborate examples were probably built prior to 250. The dimensions of colonnaded streets were often quite different from those seen in earlier centuries. For the Early Imperial period, we do not have a full set of dimensions. We have some information on porticoes set within colonnaded avenues, which exhibited differing widths and heights. This variation, which has been documented in Gaul by J.F.D. Frakes, and in the East by J. Stephens-Crawford, who produced a regional typology to describe it.95 Of these two studies, the work of Stephens-Crawford is most useful here, as there are very few western porticoes with surviving superstructures of 95  Portico widths in Early Imperial Gaul: Frakes (2009); in the East: Stephens Crawford (1990) 106–25. See also Segal (1997) 48–49 for a table relating to the Near East.

Street Architecture in Late Antiquity

late antique date. In his typology, differences in heights are clearly identifiable, especially between his ‘Aegean’ and ‘Syrian’ groups: these form two extremes of design variation. We have no certain late antique colonnaded street from Pamphylia or Cilicia, which made up Crawford’s intermediate regions, meaning that we must use his Early Imperial ‘extreme’ regions to judge the sizes of late antique avenues. Those in his early ‘Aegean’ group had an average column height of 5.5 m, whilst those in the early ‘Syrian’ group rose up to 9.5 m in height. Crawford did not provide an average for the Syrian group, nor systematic figures on street widths. Nevertheless, his streets in ‘Syria’ (the Levant) seem somewhat wider than those in the Aegean, measuring in the lower twenties and in the upper teens respectively, reckoning from the back walls of their porticoes.96 These measurements provide us with some comparanda to assess the scale of colonnaded streets built during Late Antiquity, compared to those of earlier centuries. Widths, for a selection of late antique examples, can be seen on fig. B12, with further detail in appendices C2– C3. From my figures, the average width, of new colonnaded avenues built within cities, was around 18.68 m, from portico back wall to back wall. If one leaves out rebuilt streets, which inherited earlier dimensions and those which extended existing avenues, the average measurement comes down to 17.59 m. Making the same exclusions, the average roadway width is 7.81 m, with porticoes of 4.44 m, on each side. These are measurements comparable to earlier centuries.97 In the Levant, documentation is problematic. Here, at many sites, traditional wide measurements were maintained when earlier avenues were being rebuilt (as at Apamea, Antioch, and Scythopolis), or when they were being extended (as at Jerusalem). In these cases, the porticoes were also exceptionally wide: at Antioch they reached 10 m on each side. Yet, such streets often might have sidewalks in front (2 m to 3.17 m on each flank), which made the roadway itself into something much less broad as narrow as 6 m at Antioch. In contrast, at Zenobia [after 550, possibly late 6th / early 7th c.], the 4 colonnaded streets were on average only 9.66 m wide (8 m, 10 m, 10 m, and 10.65 m), leaving roadway widths of 3 m, 3.7 m, 5 m, and 5 m. Both such extremes can be seen in the Camp of Diocletian at Palmyra (a fort) at the start of the 96  Roads and colonnades of differing widths and heights, in regional styles: Stephens Crawford (1990) 106–25, resumed by Mango M. (2001) 42–43. I cannot see how 5 m relates to the Aegean average overall; it must relate to those of the early period. See also Segal (1997) 48–49 for a table relating to the Near East. 97  Compare my fig. B12 of the roadway widths of colonnaded streets with that of Segal (1997) 48–49 for Early Imperial streets.

41 period [273–303]: the north-south street being 20.75 m wide (roadway 12.35 m) and east-west street 9.3 m wide (roadway 2.7 m). Here, the north-south street led out from an Early Imperial colonnaded avenue some ca. 35.5 m wide, whilst the east-west street was inherited from an earlier period. It gives a clue to the thin streets encountered at Zenobia: perhaps, here too, narrow dimensions were the result of avenues being colonnaded only secondarily, as an afterthought. Sergiopolis [475– 518] had more reasonable dimensions; here the street was 15 m wide, with a roadway of 7 m wide and porticoes each 4 m wide. At Abu Mina, outside of Alexandria, we meet streets 13 m, 16 m, and 22 m wide, with roadways of 7 m, 9.75 m, and 16 m width. We can thus ignore Zenobia and Palmyra and suggest that these widths represent the real preferences of the Greater Levant, as they were new-builds. Even so, they seem to have lost a third or more of their Early Imperial size. In contrast, in the Aegean, very wide avenues, previously rare, now became more frequent. Their distribution extended northwards in the 4th–5th c., with examples not only at Athens (30.3 m), but also at Sardis (31 m, including porticoes), Thessalonica (30 m), Constantinople (32 m), and Thracian Philippopolis (25 m). This spread north, of great wide streets, is part of the confident extension of the colonnaded street towards the north Balkans, inaugurated by Diocletian’s Palace at Split (23 m and 25 m) and his early 4th c. forts. The streets of Tetrarchic Gorsium-Herculia (15.5 m) and later Justiniana Prima (18.6 m, 15.5 m) are also wide, given the small size of each city, especially if the roadways of the latter site are compared with those of contemporary Zenobia (above), a much larger settlement. We can, thus, confirm a Balkan / north Aegean preference for wide streets. It is interesting to note that a colonnaded street with a width of 26 m was built at Milan in the later 4th c. This broad avenue, 370 m long, was far from being a timid introduction of the form into northern Italy. Perhaps it can be related to the streets of nearby Split, or to the streets built at Thessalonica and Constantinople, earlier in the 4th c. We do not have a clear picture of the streets of Trier, although these were given porticoes, on at least one side, during the city’s time as an imperial residence [within 269–370]. When the colonnaded street arrived in Cirencester, very early in the period [260–85], it was built to a width of some 14.9 m, including a roadway of 8.2 m, porticoes of 3.35 m for each side, and sunken sidewalks of 1.3 m and 1.2 m. This avenue was undoubtedly sized to fit an existing street, but still deserves to be recognised for what it is: one of only two full late colonnaded streets recovered so far in the Prefecture of the Gauls, representing the westernmost diffusion of Hellenistic urban style in the Empire.

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chapter 1 Cirencester

Constantinople, Upper Mese

Apamea, N-S

Carthago Nova

Constantinople, Upper Mese 2nd phase

Zenobia, e branch of E-W Decumanus

Milan

Laodicea, Syrian Street

Zenobia southern part of the N-S cardo

Salona

Aizanoi

Zenobia southernmost tip of south part of N-S colonnaded street

Split E-W

Sardis, colonnaded st. s. of gymnasium st.

Scythopolis, Street to N gate

Split N-S

Sardis, colonnaded st. by gymnasium

Scythopolis, Palladius St.

Gorsium

Ephesus, street south of upper agora

Scythopolis, Valley street

Justiniana Prima, Acropolis E-W

Ephesus, Marble Street

Jerusalem, Valley Cardo

Justiniana Prima, East Street

Ephesus, Embolos, N of Arch of Hercules

Jerusalem, Cardo extension

Justiniana Prima, Lower city

Ephesus, Plateia in coressus

Ptolemais, widened section of St. of Monuments

Scupi

Ephesus, Arcadiane

Abu Mina, N-S

Stobi

Aphrodisias, W side of civil basilica

Abu Mina, E-W

Thessalonica

Aphrodisias, colonnaded st. S of tetrapylon

FORTS

Thracian Philippopolis

Sagalassos, N-S colonnaded street

Cologne Deutz

Athens, Pompeion

Antioch in Syria, main st. Justinianic rebuilding

Drobeta

Constantinople Regia

Sergiopolis

Iatrus

Constantinople, Lower Mese 2nd phase

Gerasa, Decumanus N

Palmyra CoD E-W

Palmyra CoD N-S

Roadway

Portico

0

50m

Sidewalk

figure b12

Simplified plan of widths of late antique colonnaded streets, showing main features

Lejun E-W

Street Architecture in Late Antiquity

Extreme cases, of monumental streets with exceptionally wide or narrow dimensions, are worthy of further comment. Some were narrow, due to the odd practice of colonnading streets that were already very slim, as seen at Carthago Nova, Salona, Stobi, Ephesus, and Sagalassos. The latter site (excluded from the above averages due to incomplete data) was left with a roadway only 2.5 m wide after colonnades were added. One might almost talk of this route being a colonnaded alleyway rather than a colonnaded street. At the opposite end of the scale, the Upper Mese of Constantinople, the extension of the Panathenaic Way, and the main street of Antioch are both very wide, at 32.3 m, 30.3 m, and 30 m total width. Here, one can imagine that two lanes of traffic could easily pass along the street, with space for overtaking. It would be both attractive and easy to set up stalls using the wide porticoes, without blocking them. However, no street was built in Late Antiquity which can be compared to the eastern section of the Great Street of Palmyra, of late 2nd to 3rd c. date (38.1 m in width). This street far exceeded all local parallels when it was built, as the work of Segal on the Levant has demonstrated. It is likely that the great street of Lepcis Magna (42.5 m wide) was similarly unequalled in Africa and the West.98 Overall, it is difficult to come to a generalisation about the width of colonnaded streets constructed in the 4th– 6th c. The period clearly saw both very wide and very narrow examples being built. The constraints of existing street width, alongside received ideas of what such a street ought to look like, seem to have influenced maximum sizes, whereas the emergence of very thin colonnaded streets was a new feature of the period, which can be explained by a tendency to monumentalise streets that were previously unimportant. Porticoes For portico architecture, late antique changes are clearer. A decrease in column height is seen both in the Aegean and in the Levant, if not elsewhere.99 In Macedonia and Thrace, the regional average was 3.05 m for columns and 3.4 m colonnade height, with Stobi and Abritus having the largest, at 3.5 m. From the West (excluding the imperial capitals), we have very few examples of street porticoes with a surviving colonnade. Ostia has a portico incorporating mixed reused columns 98  Wide early streets: Palmyra: Barański (1995) 41. For Segal, see the previous note. He has Damascus and Scythopolis as the widest, at 25 m and 25.1 m each, though the Early Imperial street at Antioch is as wide as its 30 m Justinianic rebuild (see appendix C3). Lepcis Magna: Ward-Perkins (1993) 67. 99  Columns heights stated here are based on actual measurements of surviving elements, not estimated height based on column width or interaxial column spacing.

43 of 3.55 m, with a colonnade height of ca. 4.45 m (fig. B13a), whereas Salona’s portico presents measurements of 3.6 m / 4.67 m. In Asia Minor, the regional average is 3.45 m (4.57 m colonnade height). Only at Aizanoi were there new porticoes with columns of heights close to Crawford’s Early Imperial Aegean model, of 5 m. At Ephesus, they generally measure ca. 3 m, in late porticoes leading up from the Embolos (figs. B13b–c, or B11a), although those towards the theatre are larger, rising up to 3.5–4 m, perhaps trying to echo the Early Imperial columns of the Arcadiane at 4.4 m (5.2 m colonnade height). At Aphrodisias, the colonnaded street used columns ca. 3 m high, on pedestals of ca. 0.6 m, to reach, with its capitals and bases, a lower storey colonnade height of 4.4 m (fig. B13d). A colonnade at Sardis used pedestals and very short columns (max 2.6 m) to reach a combined height of ca. 3 m. In the Levant, the height average was greater: 4.09 m for a column and 5.5 m for a colonnade. A portico at Zenobia used a column height of 4 m in its first (‘Anastasian’) phase, whilst those of the Valley Cardo [430–530] used columns of 5 m. One at Caesarea Palestinae had columns estimated to be 6–6.5 m [400–450], exceeding those on the Palladius Street at Scythopolis [300–400], which were possibly inherited from earlier centuries, of 5 m (5.5 m colonnade height). A 4th c. portico at Alexandria reached a comparable column height of ca. 5 m (6.5 m colonnade height), whilst another in the same city had columns of 5.85 m [both 350–75]. This was not equalled by the Justinianic cardo extension at Jerusalem, which had columns of 3.5 m and colonnades of 4.59 m in height. Furthermore, the last ‘Justinianic’ phase of Zenobia saw columns of only 2.38–2.84 m, which might actually relate to the late 6th / early 7th c., being certainly post 550.100 The heights of columns from the main street of Abu Mina, built in the later 5th to early 7th c., are not known, but the columns of the main square measured only 2.1 m. We can state that, overall, the streets of the Levant / Alexandria retained their greater height, although both here and in Asia Minor, the columns used were much smaller than in the Early Imperial period. They reached only 55% of their earlier height in Asia Minor, with similar reductions in the Levant. It is notable that, at Alexandria and Jerusalem, no use was made of the pedestals employed elsewhere, suggesting that their builders really did not want colonnades to reach any higher than 5 m: the height was thus the result of cultural choice, rather than of a shortage of long shafts. At Aizanoi, in Asia Minor, 100  Column heights: for the sites mentioned in this section see appendices C2–C5 on new colonnaded streets and new porticoes.

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0

figure B13a–e

10m

Porticoes of late antique date, façades, reconstructed, by Lloyd Bosworth 2019: a. Ostia, portico in front of theatre, poorly-matched spolia AD 385–89; b. Ephesus, Alytarch Stoa, new built, aracaded, well-matched spolia, AD 410–36; c. Ephesus, Curetes Stoa, two-storey, arcaded, mixture of columns and piers, ca. AD 550; d. Aphrodisias, east portico of north-south colonnaded street, two-storey, arcaded, alternating piers and columns, AD 500–614; e. Rome, Forum of Caesar, new built, two-storey flat architraves, hidden upper arcade, well-chosen reused materials, cut away showing finished state, structural features, and ruined condition, AD 357–82.

Street Architecture in Late Antiquity

0

10m

figure b13f Reconstructed cross section of street porticoes, at Sardis (East-West Colonnaded Street), Athens (Library of Pantainos), and a Near-Eastern city (from Julian of Ascalon)

the exceptional use of 5 m-high columns even saw column bases being omitted, perhaps for the same reason. For imperial capitals, there is little solid information, as few sites have produced surviving architectural elements. At Trier, the north portico of the Kaiserthermen, giving out onto a street, has an estimated pier height of 3.35 m and a colonnade height of 4.1 m. At Thessalonica, surface markings on the Arch of Galerius reveal that the conjoining street portico would have had a column height of 3.5 m, with a colonnade height of 4.2 m, so not much above the regional average, which I have included its figures within. For Rome and Ravenna, we have no evidence of heights. Yet, Milan and Constantinople have both produced evidence of huge porticoes. At Milan, the street portico of San Lorenzo includes massive columns 7.32 m high in a colonnade 11.29 m high. For Constantinople, we have only scraps of information on the height of colonnades. A number of different column heights have been proposed for the Mese, based on fragments, odd drawings and the spacing of piers, the largest estimate being 8 m. This is not unreasonable, as columns 7 m high can be associated with the Forum of Theodosius / Upper Mese from a spolia context. Furthermore, shafts of at least ca. 7 m are known from a 1561 depiction of a colonnade just east of Süleymaniye

45 Mosque, within the Constantinian city. If the columns of the Mese had matched the side portals of the Arch of Theodosius (which is not certain) then the Upper Mese would have required columns measuring 10.8 m high, and would have had to lift the rafters of the portico roof to 13 m, exceeding the 11 m achieved with arcading at Severan Lepcis Magna. Certainly, we should expect the Upper Mese colonnades to have been very large, given the great width of the porticoes of this street: 8 m each, exceeded only by Antioch at 10 m, where portico dimensions, inherited from earlier centuries, persisted in Justinian’s rebuilding of the main street. The porticoes of the old city area of Byzantium were likely smaller: the street portico of the Theodosian church of Hagia Sophia (excluding its pedimental porch) had columns of 5.8 m and a total colonnade height of 6.96 m. This difference may be related to the narrower streets of the inner city, where high porticoes would have looked out of place.101 Building materials exhibit only limited regional variation. In Britain, at Kenchester, we see a stone and timber portico still in use, and in Gaul, at Argenotomagus, there was a wooden portico, reflecting earlier regional practices. Brick was popular in much of the West, though in parts of Italy and probably Africa, stone was preferred, as it was in the East. Piers are known in a street portico at Trier from the later 3rd c. [270–295, 269–395 with slate piers ca. 1 m high], but otherwise seem especially to be associated with the 6th c. Piers entirely replaced columns in some porticoes at Justiniana Prima, on the Justinianic Lower Mese at Constantinople (perhaps with columns on the upper storey), as well as on the Forum of Theodosius in its 6th c. rebuild.102 Porticoes of piers alone, with no columns, had been common within Early Imperial colonnades in some cities of the West, sometimes with two storeys. Examples are known in later 1st to 2nd c. Rome (on the Via Lata and Via Sacra), in 2nd c. Ostia, at Herculaneum in AD 62–79, and more widely under the Principate at Italica in Spain, Volubilis in Mauretania, and Orcines in Gaul. They are still found on new street porticoes in the later 3rd / earlier 4th c. at Trier [four times, 269–35, 269–35?, 270–95 × 2], at Autun [260–375], and possibly at Gorsium-Herculia 101  Exceptional dimensions: Constantinople, Upper Mese: (see appendix C2, and section of Naumann (1976) 128 fig. 6); Lepcis Magna: Ward-Perkins (1993) 72. See C4 for the porticoes near the Süleymaniye Mosque. Alternatively, the Arch of Theodosius might not actually have joined the Upper Mese portico when built, but might have been set back to give the arch a little show space, as at Ptolemais. Constantinople, Hagia Sophia portico: C4. 102  Porticoes of piers, late antique: Trier: appendix C4; Justiniana Prima, C2; at Constantinople (Justinianic Lower Mese): C3; Constantinople (Forum of Theodosius rebuild): S3.

46 in Pannonia [244–330].103 Piers were also used in alternation with columns, in 5th c. porticoes at Sardis, in a 5th / 6th c. portico at Caesarea Palestinae, and in 6th c. porticoes at the following eastern sites: Justiniana Prima, Stobi (rebuild), Laodicea ad Lycum, Aphrodisias (rebuild) (fig. B13d), Sagalassos (rebuild), Ephesus (fig. B13), and Abu Mina, as well as at Umayyad Jerusalem and ʿAnjar (fig. B12b). A favoured style seems to have been to alternate two or three columns with a pier, as at Laodicea, Abu Mina, and ʿAnjar, creating a look that was likely in fashion for 6th c. Constantinople. It can be seen in the 7th c. church of St Demetrios at Thessalonica. This solid design was well-adapted to carry an upper storey. But at Stobi and Sagalassos, the pattern of columns and piers was irregular.104 ‘Reinforcement piers’, composed of brick and concrete, were also sometimes inserted around columns to support them or to brace porticoes laterally, likely after earthquake damage. We see this at Ostia [346–71] and Grumentum [undated].105 The presence of piers or impost capitals implies arcading, sometimes considered to be a distinctive, if rare, attribute of the porticoes of the period. Indeed, pieces of fallen arcades [here marked*] or impost capitals have been found in 5th–6th c. porticoes on 13 occasions at 10 sites in the East: at Justiniana Prima, Stobi, Philippi*, Athens*, Sardis*, Ephesus 3 times (Marble Street, Upper Embolos, ‘Plateia in Coressus’), Tripolis ad Meandrum*, Laodicea ad Lycum*, Aphrodisias (on two levels)*, and Jerusalem.106 We find them continuing into the Umayyad period, with new examples of arcaded street porticoes known at Scythopolis and at ʿAnjar. However, we can also confirm that arcading with Ionic impost blocks was used earlier, in the 3rd c. rebuilding of the Arcadiane at Ephesus [a stylistic date], and in a later 3rd c. street at Laodicea ad Lycum, recalling the Severan arcades of the colonnaded street of Lepcis Magna. Arcades are also known in 2nd to 3rd c. porticoes at 103  Porticoes of piers in Early Imperial West, select examples: Rome, Ostia, and Herculaeneum: see Bigi (2019) 266–78 plus Pensabene (2007) 244–45, on the double-storey portico of Neptune at Ostia; Orcines, Gaul: Frakes (2009) 439–40, catalogue no. 188. Volubilis, Mauretania: piered porticoes with shops front the ‘Palace of Gordian’, in this city which was sacked in 280. I do not have a reference for it. 104  Piers instead of columns in porticoes: see appendices C2 (Gorsium-Herculia [possibly], Justiniana Prima) and C3 (Constantinople, Lower Mese 6th c. phase, Sardis street south of gymnasium (possible), Laodicea ad Lycum), C4 (Philippi, Ephesus Curetes Stoa) C5 (Jerusalem). 105  ‘Reinforcement piers’, at Ostia and Grumentum: appendix C5. 106  Arcading, impost blocks or arcade fragments: see appendices B7 and C2–C4. At Scythopolis, the Umayyad shop portico [dated AD 724–43 by façade inscription] was also arcaded: see plan of collapse debris on Tsafrir and Foerster (1997) 138–39, fig. F. ʿAnjar: see Finster (2003) 210, 213 fig. 4b, 217–18.

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Ostia and for the Kaiserthermen north façade at Trier in 270–95.107 Therefore, it is possible that the arcading of the Lower Mese of Constantinople, shown on the Freshfield illustrations of the Column of Arcadius, relates to the early 3rd c. primary construction of the avenue by Septimius Severus (contra Mango). This dating is suggested by the street’s distinctive width, much narrower than that of the Upper Mese of the Constantinian city, although it makes no attempt to adapt to the street grid of the old city, cutting through it at an odd angle, suggesting that it was not part of the Greek to Early Imperial urban development.108 At Sagalassos, the arcading, present in the first late phase of the north-south colonnaded street [383–500], is supported by an unusual system: pentagonal voussoir blocks. These are also seen on a portico of the Forum of Caesar in its 4th c. phase, where they are believed to support structural arches within an upper storey [357–82].109 The spacing of columns and piers in late antique porticoes were not as regular as they had been in earlier centuries. Those in Early Imperial Ostia were either exactly regular, or arranged to suit the differing width of shops. In contrast, many late porticoes at Ephesus were neither regularly spaced nor arranged to benefit the shops behind. These often had a doorway that faced into a column, partially or totally: no attempt was made to take shop portals into consideration when planning the column intervals. It has been claimed that colonnade interval variations at Justiniana Prima can be attributed to a desire to match the openings between columns to the façades of buildings behind, but this does not seem to have been true at other sites. Very often doorways face columns in a seemingly random manner.110 A second 107  Arcading, early examples: Ephesus, Arcadiane (3rd c. suggested): Schneider (1999) 471–73; Laodicea ad Lycum: see appendix C3; Ostia: see n. 103, and for the Palaestra of the Forum Baths see Lavan (2012a) 659; Trier: see appendix C4; Lepcis Magna (early 3rd c.): Ward-Perkins (1993) 72. 108  Arcading at Constantinople, Lower Mese: Freshfield Album: Mayer (2002) plate 21, with appendix C3 for dating, Lower Mese (phase 1). The arcades shown on the Trier Ivory could represent a street portico (of piers, with colonettes on a second storey). But the structure shown is actually three-storey, and thus the rear of the Hippodrome might be more appropriate. The structure is shown as dwarfing a church in the foreground, which would be appropriate to the Hippodrome: Holum and Vikan (1979) 113–33, with fig. 1. See now Niewöhner (2014), who sees the Hippodrome, and adjacent Chalke Gate. On the dating of this ivory see n. 168. 109  Pentagonal voussoir blocks: Aphrodisias (see appendix C3) and Rome, Forum of Caesar (see appendix K2a). 110  Intercolumnation variation, Ostia and Ephesus: L. Lavan site observation April 2013 with A. Fitzgerald, who will be exploring this topic further. Nevertheless, at Justiniana Prima such variation is believed to coincide still with the surrounding architecture: Kondić and Popović (1977) 55–56, 323.

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structural difference of late antique to Early Imperial porticoes is in the nature of their architraves. Whilst many late antique porticoes definitely supported flat stone architraves, as at Aizanoi and at Ephesus (Alytarch Stoa), others have been found entirely complete except for their architraves. We must envisage that wooden architraves were used, linked to roof beams set directly onto the capitals, as at Sardis in the 5th c., or at Zenobia and Jerusalem (cardo extension) in the 6th c.111 The overall aesthetics of late antique colonnaded streets cannot easily be discerned, as new-built structures survive up to their crowning elements at only a few sites. Furthermore, my study of their phasing suggests that many porticoes were rebuilt for a second time towards the end of the period, long after their initial late antique construction, thus confusing the impressions we have. Nonetheless, when a city had some porticoes, rather than none, there was, to a visitor, certainly more architectural unity in the appearance of the main streets. The use of arcading also provided interest, adding height to a colonnade. But the overall aspect was not always spectacular, especially if one compares late antique avenues to those of Palmyra or Apamea, from earlier centuries. For the 4th c., one can imagine high standards at Constantinople, as for the Troadesian porticoes, in the new part of the city. Their name indicates that they were composed of violet-grey granite shafts, from the Troad, likely new-cut, given that they led to the Constantinian Golden Gate. At Rome, granite columns associated with the Porticus Maximae, built shortly before 379–83, imply something equally impressive. At Jerusalem, in the mid 6th c., colonnade elements were also new-cut, suggesting that Justinian might have maintained comparable standards in Constantinople during his reign. At some sites in Asia Minor, such as at Aizanoi or at Ephesus (on the Alytarch Stoa: fig. B13b), porticoes from the earlier 5th c. were again constructed carefully, although in wellsorted reused materials. Regrettably, in some other colonnades at Ephesus, the construction was not often as harmonious: some were composed of a mish-mash of columns, pedestals and capitals, with little effort made to produce alignments which were straight. The ‘Plateia in Coressus’, going north from the theatre, is particularly underwhelming on account of these characteristics, which can also be observed at Sardis, Abu Mina, or at the imperial site of 111  It has been claimed, at Gerasa, on the basis of very sensible field observations, that the street porticoes were of such irregular architrave heights that roofing would have been impractical, both aesthetically and in relation to drainage. I find it hard to accept this in the absence of literary sources or depictions hinting at street porticoes without roofs: Seigne (2008) 178.

47 Zenobia. Other porticoes of mixed spolia, without the extreme variety seen here, have been excavated widely: at Ostia, Aphrodisias, Sagalassos, Side, and Alexandria. It is more usual to see variations in the colour or form of columns rather than to see the mixed use of pedestals and other supporting elements. Part of this variation can be explained as a function of regional crises in stone supply but also in terms of chronology: at Ephesus, the messy porticoes relate to systematic rebuilding around the city in the period 576–601 (likely after a seismic catastrophe), whilst those at Zenobia may date from the late 6th c. rather than the time of Justinian, as previously thought. Earlier late antique colonnades at Ephesus were composed of far-better chosen spolia and were more carefully constructed. Other sites in Asia Minor (Aphrodisias, Sagalassos) also show signs of having two late phases, of which only the latter was a jumble. These have been missed by excavators, who tend to be looking for a single late antique phase. Tidy porticoes of the 4th to 6th c. have at times been obscured by ugly colonnades constructed in the twilight of Antiquity. Yet, even messy colonnades must still have had an aesthetic intention, as they could be built as free-standing monuments, without shops behind. At Ephesus, south of the Upper Agora, a very mixed-up spolia ‘portico’ was established on both sides of a narrow street, entirely covering up the thin sidewalk. The later 6th c. colonnades of Salona did the same. Such developments can only be explained aesthetically, as they were a hindrance to amenity, given that new colonnades now forced pedestrians into the roadway, by completely blocking the footpaths. Admittedly, colonnades without porticoes were rare, but do have precedents in Early Imperial public architecture. They might have been useful in the streets of central Constantinople, where narrow roadways, inherited from Severan or Greek times, became the setting for new monumental buildings. Only a small gap existed between the Basilica Courtyard and the atrium of Hagia Sophia: 12 m without allowing space for staircases known on the façade of Hagia Sophia and likely in front of the Basilica. This street might have been decorated by engaged columns, by the use of projecting columns, as seen on the round plazas of Bostra and Gerasa, or perhaps by the use of niches. All of these tricks would have enlivened the monotony of boundary walls. We see such devices on a wall by the Chalke Gate (projecting columns) and on a wall by the ‘Milion’ (niches). Niches are also used at Rome, on one side of the Basilica Aemilia and to decorate a terrace wall bordering the early 4th c. road around the Basilica of Maxentius. It is likely the emperor’s architects tried very hard to make the narrow streets of old Byzantium grand enough for the dignity

48 which the court imposed upon them. Blind arcades, and other devices, could provide solutions to this problem.112 Portico Floors The floors of street porticoes in the East were systematically paved in mosaic on 22 occasions at 13 sites, sometimes on both sides of a colonnaded street: at Sardis [400–25, 250–425], Ephesus [twice, 395–408?, 410–36], Laodicea ad Lycum [494–610], Stratonicea in Caria [pending], Side [three times 460–614, 400–614, 250–614], Perge [460–614], Antioch in Syria [540– 750], Apamea [469, inscr.], Beirut [300–600; 507–51], Sepphoris [491–614, inscr.], Scythopolis [3 times, 395– 404 inscr., 395–404, 475–507 inscr.], Caesarea Palestinae [3 times 400–450, 500–614, 500–614], and Gerasa [500– 25]. We find large-scale figural scenes at Apamea and Scythopolis (on an agora). Large-scale geometric patterns occur at Caesarea Palestinae (twice), Sepphoris, Scythopolis (twice) (fig. B14a), and possibly at Perge, although drawings are not published for street portioces of the last site. Non-matching mosaic carpets, usually set within a single unifying border, decorated porticoes at Sardis, Ephesus (fig. B14b), Stratonicea, Perge, Beirut, and perhaps Antioch. In the last case, not enough of the floor was excavated to be sure that a complex pattern was repeated. The same Antiochene pavement was later covered in opus sectile, of which, again, only a fragment survives [of 540–750]. This was one of 6 occasions where such opus sectile was used, at 5 sites in the East. A portico at Ankara [491–516] was given a series of non-matching opus sectile carpets, thus reflecting a configuration popular in mosaics, but executed in coloured marble slabs. At Laodicea ad Lycum [2 streets, in 494–610, 494–614], a radically new style was tried, of rows of slabs laid to form square frames, into which small pieces of marble of different shapes were arranged in varied patterns, surrounding a central slab, all done in the same grey marble (fig. B14c). At Antioch in Syria, opus sectile [540–750] was laid in a simple diagonal pattern; at Apamea [487.5– 512.5] it was made up of large slabs of white marble; at Aphrodisias [500–614], it was of diagonally-laid black 112  Colonnades without porticoes, and similar devices: Ephesus (south of the Upper Agora): appendix C3; Salona: C3. Bostra (round plaza): K1a; Gerasa (round plaza) K1b; Constantinople (Chalke Gate wall): F7a; Constantinople (Milion): F7a relating to the niche in the wall running NE-SW; Rome (Basilica Aemilia): X1a. Rome (Basilica of Maxentius): J1. Constantinople, gap between Basilica Courtyard and the atrium of Hagia Sophia: noted by A. Berger pers. comm. June 2017, and hand-measured by me off Schneider (1936) Tafel 10, where the map is given as the work of E. Mamboury 1918–1932. The same niched wall style is shown on the back inner wall of the W portico of Hagia Sophia, although omitted by most plans. Stairs of H. Sophia entrance: E3. Stairs of Basilica: J3.

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and white squares (fig. B14c), creating a checkerboard pattern also seen at Scythopolis in an agora [500–35], reminiscent of Renaissance and Early Modern floors.113 In chronological terms, we have a range of dates for portico mosaics from the late 4th to 6th c., although examples from earlier in the 4th c. are confined to fora / agorai. Whilst there are earlier examples, the extension of mosaics onto porticoes of plazas and streets is a phenomenon of the late antique period. Pavements in opus sectile are particularly late. All have dating midpoints in the 6th and 7th c. Solinda Kamani, in her doctoral thesis, has considered the precise nature of the patterns used.114 In regional terms, it seems that whilst the stylistic tendency of the Levant was for large-scale unified decorative designs (both figural and geometric: see fig. B14a), in Asia Minor, the tendency was for more mixed carpets (in either opus sectile or geometric mosaic), pre-fabricated elsewhere, and laid one after the other, within a single border (fig. B14b). Neither opus sectile nor mosaic is so far attested outside of these two regions, though mosaics of mixed geometric carpets are known for porticoes of 4th c. fora / agorai for Antioch, Perge, and Cirencester, whilst simple bi-chromatic mosaics with bands of black on white are known for the palaestra of Ostia.115 Alternative forms of marble flooring were starting to develop by the 6th c. We have already mentioned the black and white diagonal checker-board floors of Aphrodisias and Scythopolis. But there were other new types. The opus sectile paving of the great northsouth colonnade at Apamea was of fine, although apparently featureless, white marble slabs [487.5–512.5]. A portico at Scythopolis was given an oil shale (black) floor to cover over a worn mosaic [395–702]. Another floor in the same city saw a mosaic covered by a welllaid rectilinear puzzle of small marble slabs of grey to white colour variations [506/507 inscr.] (fig. B14c). This recalls a reused-marble slab floor at Caesarea [400–614, above] which overlies mosaic, and a marble slab floor at Ephesus [probably 410–36 inscr.]. At Scythopolis, this pavement type coincided with marble revetment in the same materials for the portico back wall (visible in fig. B14a). Thus, ‘neat marble puzzle floors’ cannot be regarded as an inferior option. It is more likely to be a Levantine fashion. We should perhaps take such floors to be an evolution of opus sectile. This might explain the 113  Portico floors, paving in mosaic and opus sectile: see appendices C6a–6c. 114  Expansion of mosaics onto porticoes of plazas and streets, with earlier examples: Kamani (2014) 64–98. 115  Mosaics of mixed carpets on fora / agorai of Antioch, Perge and Cirencester: see appendices K1a, K2a and K2b. For opus sectile black and white tiles in an agora portico at Scythopolis see appendix S3.

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figure b14a Portico floors: (i) coherent geometric mosaic (Scythopolis)

figure b14b Portico floors: (ii) mixed mosaic carpets (Ephesus) Photo: copyright Austian Archaeological Institute A-W-OAI-EPH-03958

strange predominance of large marble squares, all of the same colour within late opus sectile floors of Laodicea [493–610, 493–610]. This innovation did not last for long. The great flowering of eastern street porticoes came to an end in the 7th c.: at Antioch, a small patch of the last portico paving on the main colonnaded street has been recovered [dating to an uncertain period after 540]; this was of less regular squarish slabs (of marble or tile?) overlying the opus sectile.116 Porticoes have also been found floored with stone slabs and other materials, although it is a mistake to think they could not be desired as much as mosaic or opus sectile. They are known on 28 occasions at 15 sites. At Caesarea Palestinae [400–614] and Ptolemais [301–408] we see reused marble, followed by sandstone paving at the latter site [301+]. Stone slabs were used at Abritus [337–400], Stobi [425–50], Aizanoi [402–27], Ephesus [three times, 410–36, 410–36, 410–614, 576–614, 576–614], Sagalassos [5th c.], Palmyra [probably 327/28],

Bostra [twice, 517 and undated], Jerusalem [550–543], and Alexandria [within 350–700]. In Asia Minor, these slabs were typically reused, but in the last three Levantine cases, they were new-cut and carefully laid in parallel rows of irregular width. It is worth noting that at Athens, a portico of 400–625 on the Panathenaic Way only had a concrete floor, whilst plaster surfaces were found in the portico of a major street in Sepphoris [undated]. Justiniana Prima exhibits both simple and enhanced surfaces: a portico floor of beaten earth lines the main street in the lower city [544–616], whilst the original surface of a portico in the upper city had originally been in pebbles [535–73]. A portico fronting the cathedral was paved in square tiles laid parallel with the portico [535–616], as was the east portico of the main street in the lower city [544–616]. Yet, finer floors existed, even here. Four street porticoes in the upper city [535–73 × 4] were paved with square tiles arranged in a diamond pattern, except in sections giving access to certain buildings, where stone slabs were used. Something similar could be found at nearby Scupi, somewhat earlier [312.5–337.5]: porticoes were paved in cobblestones,

116  Portico floors, paving in new forms of marble flooring, the East: see appendix C6d.

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figure b14c Comparative sketch of late opus sectile portico flooring (top to bottom, left to right), Laodicea (repaired), Ankara, Aphrodisias / Scythopolis Agora, Scythopolis Palladius Street, not to scale.

interrupted by areas of bricks set into mortar, usually outside of entrances. At Constantinople, the mosaic portico of the Theodosian church of Hagia Sophia [415, not counted in the total above], also had an area of flagstones in front of its main entrance, rather than mosaic, suggesting that this was a regional habit, perhaps designed to cope with the greater wear experienced outside of doorways. Street portico surfaces in the West were made from far simpler materials, as they had been earlier, in 7 cases at 4 sites. Mosaic and opus sectile are attested nowhere, and stone slabs were very rare. Gravel is known from Complutum [twice, dating pending]; gravel was found at Gloucester [200–325]. Cirencester had a street portico, near the forum, paved with a mish-mash of patches of flagstones, small stones, and mortar [350–75], with

later repairs and patching [375–425]. However, the main colonnaded street in the city had stone slabs in the west portico and cobbles in the east portico [260–85]. In earlier times, simple mortar floors are known from Italica. This material was likely used for some late porticoes at Ostia (like its plaza porticoes), as it was at Argentomagus [360–95], in both cases on the main street. A ‘battuto’ surface of clay plaster and rubble is even known from Lepcis Magna but may date from after the robbing of the primary paving, or represent unfinished work, although I am perhaps unfairly prejudiced against such surfaces. It is hard to feel much admiration for rudimentary coverings, which needed regular patching, as western excavations have documented. But to reconstruct the full texture of the late antique city, as it was experienced, in all its variety, with subtle variations of style and of status,

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we do need to document and analyse these surfaces in detail, not just the mosaics of larger cities.117 Surprisingly, some excavations in the East have also produced even humbler classes of street portico surface, which hardly seem to merit the name ‘floor’. At Sardis, we see a beaten earth surface on a colonnaded street in 395–420, later resurfaced in plaster during 476–611. In this case, the road was visibly not completed. Yet, at Aphrodisias, the north-south colonnaded street was long-established but retained earthed-floored porticoes until its end in the 7th c. It is likely that further examples of rudimentary surfaces will be recovered from the same region: the surface laid out in the west portico of the colonnaded street of Sagalassos, was of cobbles embedded in compact soil and mortar; this was interpreted as an incomplete / robbed surface of the portico. Rather, it might have been the best surface that the portico ever saw, as the road paving and much of the architecture of the street was found in situ. Beaten-earth surfaces do seem to have been common in eastern agorai, as we will see in a future chapter, at least in parts of Greece and Asia Minor. Here, I suspect a cultural preference, which can be seen also in the types of materials used to floor agorai within this region. One should also be prepared to see variations in quality and style within cities, as much as differences between regions. Care should be taken to detect incontrovertible evidence of robbing when a portico appears to have no paved surface; it may never have had one.118 Sidewalks The appearance of a greater number of raised sidewalks, in front of porticoes, is significant (see figs. B12 and B15a –b). Whilst being common features of cities today, they are by no means universal features of urban life, and their presence demands explanation. We find them in the West, as in earlier centuries, being created on 9 117  Portico floors with other materials, the West: see appendix C6d. The absence of records of portico floor material from syntheses and site reports for the Early Imperial West makes it likely that beaten earth or gravel were normal materials. Stone is not normally present, even in the porticoes of well-preserved large Early Imperial sites such as Vaison la Romaine: L. Lavan site observation October 2006. Any mention of floor materials is noticeably absent from a recent study of porticoes in Gaul, which discusses their mainly wooden architecture: Frakes (2009) 70–90, esp. 89–90. For Ostia, direct testimony is lacking for late street porticoes so far, but in the Foro della statua eroica, the floors in the north porticoes of phase 1b [350–75] were of opus signinum, as the late final portico floors of the Palaestra [of ca. 443] may well have been: see appendix W1 and K2a. 118  Portico floors with other materials, the East: see appendix C6d.

51 occasions at 8 sites, being repaired on two further occasions at two sites. In Britain, at Kenchester, the main street leading to the west gate received one in ca. 350. In Hispania, the sidewalk on the Cardo Maximus of Iluro is dated to 320–75. In Gaul, one was installed at Argentomagus on the main east-west street [360–95, repaired 400–500], a second was provided as part of the paving renewal of Autun [350–75], and another was renewed at Rauranum [200–417]. In Italy, they were installed at Ostia, outside grand and humble façades [346– 89, 250–450, a repair], serving individual structures, not a street as a whole. They were built on major arteries at Milan [250–539] and at Ravenna [undated], with repairs documented in Milan [250–539]. In the East, sidewalks were a new feature of colonnaded streets in the period, being far more popular here than they were in earlier centuries. They appear either as part of comprehensive programmes of construction or as renovations to monumental streets, on 21 occasions at 17 sites: at Thessalonica [299–311 texts], Argos [364– 89], Thracian Philippopolis [264–89], Constantinople [Lower Mese Justinianic phase 532–57 texts], Sardis [400–25], Ephesus [twice, 410–36 inscr., 576–601], Aphrodisias [possibly in 500–614], Sagalassos [500– 550], Antioch [540–65], Apamea [487.6–512.5], Bostra [500–600], Scythopolis [twice, 400–500, 527–749], and Jerusalem [430–530], or as a supplement to established monumental avenues, as at Philippi [250–616], Ephesus [twice, 576–601, 576–614], Gerasa [250–305, 293–450] and Caesarea Palestinae [550–75]. They may have been added to a major avenue leading to a gate at Edessa in 496–97. Sidewalks were also repaired on 4 occasions at 4 sites: at Corinth [250–412.5], Argos [400–500], Sagalassos [550–650], and Scythopolis [527–749], although these represent only those which have been detected; there were undoubtedly many more. In the East, we do not get the sense that sidewalks were being added piecemeal to individual structures, as sometimes in the West. Rather, they were added as planned urban developments. In terms of design, the width of sidewalks varies, from as little as 1 m to a more typical measurement of between 2 m and 3 m. They normally occur on both sides of the street. A few sites lie outside these dimensions: Autun had sidewalks of 3.1 m and 2.7 m in width on opposite sides of its north-south main street [350–75]. More seriously, the Decumanus of Ostia had a late sidewalk 4 m wide, on one side of the road only [346–89]. A minisidewalk is known at Scythopolis, on the street leading to the north-west gate, where the width is only of 0.8 m [400–500]. At Antioch, the sidewalk on a secondary avenue (without porticoes) seems to have been ca. 0.5 m

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figure b15a Sidewalk, raised, at Gerasa, on both sides of the road

wide [540–65]. These sizes seem surprising, but in historic quarters of modern European cities, sidewalks can diminish gradually to very small sizes, even to the width of a kerb.119 It is important to point out that late antique sidewalks, at least those of the East where they have been uncovered for long distances, do not vary in terms of design according to the types of materials or finish, depending on the buildings that they front, a phenomenon which Catherine Saliou observed for Pompeii. From the sites that I have been able to examine, sidewalks were conceived and built as a unity, like so many of the late colonnades that front them, serving the street as a whole, a sign of co-ordinated civic action, rather than a response by individual owners to central demands.120 The materials used to build sidewalks were strikingly different between East and West. In the East, large stone slabs were often employed, sometimes reused (as at Argos and in Asia Minor), or new-cut (as at Thracian Philippopolis and sites in the Levant). They offered the 119  Sidewalk widths: see appendix C7. Scythopolis, street leading to the north-west gate: appendix C3; Antioch: appendix J3. 120  Sidewalks at Pompeii: Saliou (1999) 176–77 figs. 16–18.

pedestrian a carefully levelled surface, away from wheels and animals, and doubtless facilitated easy cleaning with rain and buckets. In the West, sidewalks were far less impressive. They were made up of varied materials, such as mortar retained by stone kerbs, at Iluro, Rauranum, and Milan; the latter dates just prior to our period, with inclusions of brick and basalt fragments. Alternatively, we see bricks set in conglomerate (at Ravenna), or occasionally mosaic (as in one patch at Ostia). At Ostia, mortar and earth surfaces, established in earlier centuries, seem to have defined the local tradition. At Miturnae, a sidewalk of earth and gravel, bounded by a stone kerb, supported an early 4th c. statue base. This detail reflects the real state of many Italian sidewalks during Late Antiquity: unimpressive and largely inherited from previous centuries. At Kenchester, our only British example, the sidewalk was of pebbles and gravel. Sometimes, one even finds the sidewalk inverted: the sides of roads can be set lower than the roadway, which was retained rather than confined by a kerb, as at Paris and Diocletianopolis. At Complutum, this arrangement existed between the late road surfaces of the Cardo and Decumanus, bounded by a kerb, and a portico set at a

Street Architecture in Late Antiquity

53 to the same level as the portico, to create a great pedestrian esplanade, leaving the roadway in a trough. This seems to have been done for the benefit of shop owners working out of the cellular units found behind. Artisans now had far more space to put out their wares. On occasion, sidewalks were also used as an easy way to add a water supply to a street: a level of earth, over the road paving, was added to cover the pipe, with a kerb to retain it; there was no need to make a cutting into the existing paving. This can be seen in a very late sidewalk extension at Ephesus, in 576–601, when the use of irregular stone blocks deprives the sidewalk of its level and uniform character. At Sagalassos, in 500–550, the late paving of the north-south street anticipated the sidewalk and its water supply by leaving an empty strip between the portico and the roadway where the pipes could run and where no road paving was necessary. At other sites, however, one can observe road paving slabs under the sidewalks, as they were not originally part of the street design.

figure b15b Sidewalk at Ephesus (Marble Street)*

lower level, with no intervening sidewalk. Similar strips of free ground were left between the porticoes and the roadway at Cirencester [260–85], 1.2 m and 1.3 m wide. Here, there was no kerb, but strips were subsequently divided from the road by a ditch.121 The physical nature of sidewalks can tell us something of their function. Pedestrians following the sunken edges of roads undoubtedly experienced more mud and wet puddles than those moving along raised platforms. Road drainage was perhaps the dominant consideration. In the East, sidewalks were generally wide enough for two people to pass, affirming the needs of pedestrians. In many cities, sidewalks tend to exist in connection with traces of wheeled traffic. This difference is very obvious at Ephesus. Where sidewalks are absent there are often no wheel ruts, whilst one might see road obstacles that facilitate pedestrianisation. But at a few sites, such as Sagalassos and Apamea, sidewalks exist alongside road obstacles, suggesting that it was animal traffic or porters (mules, sedan-chairs, and hand-carts) which pedestrians wished to escape from, not vehicles. For a couple of Near-Eastern sites, at Gerasa (fig. B15a) and at Scythopolis, the sidewalks have been raised up 121  Sidewalk composition: see appendix C7. Ostia: L. Lavan site observation 2008–2012; Miturnae: appendix J7. Kenchester: C10a; Paris and Diocletianopolis: C3; Complutum: C6d; Cirencester: C3.

Road Paving Although it seems to us a tedious subject, good road paving was prestigious in Antiquity, its materials reflecting status as much as local habits. The distribution of systematic renewal or primary laying of stone paving slabs, along major avenues, is even broader than building work on porticoes and sidewalks, taking in a greater number of regions. Repaving as a separate building operation is known on major streets on 14 occasions at 10 sites in the West and on 21–24 occasions at 19 sites in the East, with 1 further repair: in Hispania, it is found at Mérida [undated within Late Antiquity]; in Gaul, it is found in Paris [305–60], Rheims [300–325, pending], Trier [twice in 269–395], Autun [350–75], and Eauze [250–400]; in Italy, at Milan [250–75, just outside the period, not in total], Ravenna [twice, undated and 350–375], Rome [twice, 337–57, 350–75], and Avella in Campania [333 inscr.]; in Africa at Thamugadi [250– 647]; in Pannonia, at Celeia [300–500], and Sala [twice, ca. 300 and ca. 360]; in Illyrcium, at Serdica [250–616], Thracian Philippopolis [337–62], Diocletianopolis [475–500], Philippi [250–527], Dion [undated, possibly late antique], Delphi [324–50], and Nicopolis in Epirus [250–616]; at Constantinople [324–60]; in Asia, at Ephesus [4 times, 410–36, 410–36 with repair 410–614, 576–614], Laodicea ad Lycum [494–614], Aphrodisias [350–450], Antioch in Pisidia [250–565], Knidos [250– 614], and Sagalassos [3 times, 387.5–412.5, 450–575, 525– 675]; in Oriens, at Salamis in Cyprus [330–55], Beirut [387.5–400], Caesarea Palestinae [550–75], Scythopolis [522 inscr.], and Abila in the Decapolis [563–64 inscr.]. Large-scale paving renewal can also be attested in 21

54 other cases across East and West, as part of the construction or systematic rebuilding of monumental streets, from Carthago Nova to Thracian Philippopolis and from Justiniana Prima to Jerusalem. The re-creation of the new quarters / cities also involved repaving of main roads at Paris [308–360, 305–360], Ravenna [526– 550], Gortyn [643–68 and probably earlier in 570–95], Sergiopolis [475–528], Scythopolis [400–614], and Alexandria [350–75].122 These sites show us that major repaving interventions, carried out as paving only (not part of wider works), were most common in larger cities. In the West, they tend to date from the 4th c. It is possible that the number of repavings in Africa is underestimated. Many of these cities already had excellent paving, but the low number of sites recognised undoubtedly has something to do with the under-development of archaeological studies, in a region where 4th c. buildings can be of a high quality and thus difficult to distinguish from earlier constructions. In the East, building work spans across the whole period, being well-distributed between the Balkans, Asia Minor, and the Levant. There is again a dip in the middle years of the 5th c., after which it is difficult to trace any work in the Balkans. Beyond the mid-6th c., repaving is largely confined to the Levant, with work at Caesarea Palestinae and Abila, although it can be seen at Ephesus within a wider street restoration. Paving interventions on major avenues tended to be very substantial, using enormous quantities of stone and often involving the renewal of water pipes and sewers. Such operations were normally confined to the major axes of the city but could be part of a general programme which also extended to the side roads, as in 6th c. Carthage and Ravenna, as discussed later. Occasionally, stone staircases are recorded as features of major streets, as at Sagalassos [500–50], where one was re-established, in reused white marble. Yet Roman engineers generally preferred to set a steady street gradient, through levelling, and this continued into the late antique period: the stairs within the main street at Autun were systematically removed when it was repaved [350– 75]. At a few sites, we find long street-like monumental staircases, as at Hierapolis, where a great staircase, of new-cut travertine blocks, led up to the martyrion of Philip [probably in the 5th c.], or at Scythopolis, where a basalt staircase reached up the full height of the theatre [400–625]. These long staircases seem to have been used in places where neither animals nor humans could maintain their grip. Sometimes, they survived from earlier periods: the Notitia Urbis Romae (334–357) tells us of the ‘Stairs of Cassius’ in region 13 (the Aventine), whilst 122  Road paving, major works: see appendix C9a.

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the Notitia urbis Constantinopolitanae (of ca. AD 425) enumerates three ‘Maritime Stairs’ in regions 4, 5 and 6 (6 was in the Constantinian town, so new), all of which might be quays. Another stair was located next to the ‘Basilica’ courtyard (recorded by Zosimus), and was perhaps used to bridge the height difference between the plaza and the Copper Market, which has been estimated as being up to 12 m. Its construction date is unknown. Finally, the late Parastaseis also informs us of steps by the church of St. Agathonikos and the Anemodourion / Anemodoulion. This staircase was located within the monumental core of the Constantinian city, and was likely established during Late Antiquity.123 In terms of stone paving quality, in the East, both main streets and side streets were covered in large slabs of stone. This new paving was at its finest in the Levant: of basalt, limestone, or lava, square-cut, often laid in rows, to a pleasing herringbone or a diagonal pattern; here, the paving was as good in the 6th c. as it had been earlier, and was sometimes better (fig. B16a–b). At Apamea, the early 6th c. paving replaced an uglier jigsaw of irregular blocks: it was of beautiful new-cut rectangular slabs laid in parallel rows, with sidewalks built in the same manner. The slabs were not so thick as earlier, but did not need to be, as the avenue had been pedestrianised. The contemporary pavement of the Cardo extension at Jerusalem was of a similar style, with parallel rows of blocks extending into the portico, within a very well-levelled surface. At Apamea and Caesarea, earlier paving slabs were simply buried, not recycled, although at Antioch an effort seems to have been made to recover / remove the basalt blocks of earlier centuries prior to repaving. A high standard of paving may have also been maintained in Egypt, as far we can tell from the minor streets of Syene and Alexandria. Even towards the end of the period, the paving we have from Abu Mina is good quality, with new-cut rectangular stone slabs laid in rows, if not parallel, as in its plazas. Cyprus seems to have followed the Levant, if Salamis is representative: the colonnaded street was paved in newly-cut ‘calcarentic sandy stones’. Nevertheless, some cities in the interior of the Levant resisted the adoption of solid paving, even if they used paved porticoes and sidewalks, as at Palmyra and ʿAnjar, where no paving seems to have been detected. This suggests that the absence of paving could be a positive cultural choice, not the result of poverty. In Asia Minor, new road surfaces were of a slightly less impressive standard: made from reused stone blocks. They might be laid in well-sorted rows, as on the street past the tetrapylon at Aphrodisias (fig. B16c), on 123   Staircases within monumental streets: see appendix J2. Staircases removed, Autun: see appendix C9a on repaving.

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a

b

c

d

e

f

g

h

figure b16a–h Street paving: a. new-cut slabs of basalt in rows (Scythopolis, mid-6th c.); b. new cut slabs or kurkar limestone in herringbone rows (Caesarea Palestinae, 6th c.); c. re-used slabs laid in short rows (Ephesus Marble Street, earlier 5th c.); d. re-used slabs without rows but cut to fit (Aphrodisias, early 5th c.); e. re-used slabs without rows, not cut to fit (Ephesus, Plateia in Corresus, later 6th to earlier 7th c.); f. the same street with split columns. See also fig B11a for further paving of the earlier 5th c. from Ephesus, re-used laid in short irregular rows, cut to fit; g. Sagalassos, earlier 6th c.; h. Classe, mid 6th c.

56 the main streets of Aizanoi, of Antioch in Pisidia, and of Stratoniceia, or in the great repaving of so much of Ephesus in 410–36. That at Sagalassos, on the northsouth colonnaded street, laid in 500–50, is so well-selected that the excavators missed its reuse (fig. B16g). In a few cases, they were roughly-set without re-cutting, as on the ‘Plateia in Coressus’ in Ephesus, although this is a very late street of 576–601. It is only paralleled by a very rough final paving at Sagalassos sometime in 525–675, and an undated late pavement at Knidos. At the Ephesian site, vehicles bumped over columns which had been roughly split in two (fig. B16d–e). In the Balkans, the site of Thracian Philippopolis had well-jointed rows of stone on its colonnaded avenue, but roughly set and unsorted reused blocks on its minor streets. At Serdica, Philippi, Delphi, Argos, and Nicopolis in Epirus, reused blocks formed the basis of new road surfaces, but not without selection and competent joining. Diocletianopolis even seems to have had a new-paved main street in the last quarter of the 5th c. [pending]. The roads of Justiniana Prima were of entirely new stone, of different types on different streets. We have no Balkan parallels for this, from the 6th c. The eastern capital was undoubtedly Justiniana Prima’s inspiration. Here, sandstone had been employed on the Lower Mese, for its ‘Severan phase’, before Constantine and his successors replaced it with huge slabs of new-cut marble. This became the ‘gold standard’ of the great city, into the 6th c., on the Regia, the Mese and on adjacent agorai. Nowhere else in the late antique world had paving as luxurious as this. In the West, the quality is more varied. Stone slabs had long been used in Africa, Italy, and Provence, but elsewhere gravel surfaces were almost universal, with pebble surfaces known in Britain and a few other places. In the Diocese of the Gauls (Hispania, Gaul, and Britain) stone slabs had never been common. Thus, the paving of major roads, in some western cities, often for the first time, in new-cut material not spolia—as at Mérida (Dec. 5), Trier, Autun, and Avella—is a significant development of the period. Carthago Nova, Eauze, Paris, and Rheims also saw main streets paved, if in reused slabs. Large-scale stone paving seems to have been a mark of status, being found in provincial capitals and cities favoured by the imperial court, notably at Trier. Indeed, slab surfaces seem to have been more common on major streets in the West than new porticoes, just as we see fewer porticoes and more repavings on western fora than on eastern agorai in the same period. Again, this must reflect an active cultural preference, as both were expensive to provide. In Africa, the main street of Cuicul was given a rough secondary paving, which is likely Late Roman. A paving of reused blocks was also laid in the city’s ‘Christian quarter’. Thamugadi seems to have had the same type of paving on a road near the

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market and capitol. One might expect the large-scale survival of Early Imperial stone surfaces, as seen in sites like Sufetula, where the quality of both the stone and the craftsmanship had been very high. Still, I suspect that many roadway renewals in new-cut paving have simply been missed in this region. We have some reason to believe that differences in the quality of stone slabs could be recognised as indicators of status in the West. At Trier, reuse is only recorded on a suburban street: reports are silent about the nature of the stone used inside the city, suggesting it was newcut. At Autun, the street surface was definitely paved in new-cut blocks of granite (for some 1,570 m). New-cut blocks are also recorded in Italy. They are seen on a main street at Ravenna’s port of Classe in 536–550, in trachyte (B16h), but this was for a city that was anything but typical. More significant is a case at Avella, recorded by an inscription of ca. 330. This text makes a point of describing the new road paving as coming from the mountains, and not from ancient monuments, which seems to imply that pavements in reused material were more frequent here. Indeed, other Italian cities simply re-employed basalt selci inherited from earlier centuries, on the same spot. This habit means that there is no obvious indication of reuse, only irregular wear-markings and other discontinuities on basalt slabs, visible to sharpeyed archaeologists. Thus, the inhabitants of Milan dug up and re-laid their selci for the intramural Decumanus surface, set at a higher level, sometime in 250–75, just before our period. For Rome, the Via Sacra through the Forum Romanum was repaved at a higher level a few decades later, in 334–57, using basalt, as was the road through the Velabrum, where the basalt looks reused, in works dating from 350–74. In such cases, careful work is needed to distinguish reuse from new material, with the assistance of archive photos and micro-stone survey. But no Italian city could afford to waste such good basalt blocks. It is only in the East, most especially the 6th c. Levant, where one sees good quality slabs simply buried under new surfaces.124 Alternative materials to stone paving slabs were widely used in the West, the cities of which account for the ‘peak’ in graph 10. Admittedly, the provision of surfaces in gravel, pebbles, and other humble materials has attracted less interest from archaeologists, perhaps because it represents dull continuity with the Early Imperial period, and perhaps because such surfaces do not impress anyone. Yet, in many places, Roman urban civilisation had always been represented by regular maintenance in 124  New stone paving, see appendix C9a–9b plus J1 and J3 for paving of minor streets, such as at Rome around the Basilica of Maxentius and part the east rostra, which are discussed below in the main text of this chapter.

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these materials rather than by anything more glamorous. They are recorded on 36 occasions at 14 sites in the West, whilst being very rarely attested in the East, in a few areas which stuck to earlier traditions. In Britain, at Cirencester, the main east-west street had late surfaces of rammed limestone rubble [395–420], whereas the last surface of the main north-south street [ca. 200–ca. 400], was of gravel and small pebbles. Winchester saw 4 recobblings on the east-west street in 350–400, whilst at Kenchester a late surface of pebbles [ca. 350] was replaced by a second metalling of large flat stones [ca. 350– 400]. Wroxeter saw a major east-west road behind the Baths Basilica ‘resurfaced’ in gravel at an exceptionally late date [500–790]. At this time, an earlier road surface, which had been sieved to remove its pebbles, was relaid, although whether it was now intended as a road is debatable. In Hispania, at Complutum, gravel remained in use, in the last comprehensive re-surfacing [250–325], as it did at Iesso [apparently 4th c.], although at Iluro new surfaces were in sand mixed with waste [320–45; 350–75]. At Valencia, during the 4th c., the Decumanus saw three gravel surfaces mixed with various materials, whereas the Cardo went through as many as 12. In Gaul, at Argentomagus, a later 4th c. street surface was composed of limestone blocks and pebbles [360–95], whereas Paris saw streets surfaced in very different materials during the 4th c.: some streets had reused slabs, but gravel was used to relay the Cardo on the north bank of the Seine three times [308–309, 360–85, and sometime after 360]. At Aix, pot holes in Cardo 1 were repaired with mortared rubble [284–675]. In Italy, at Paestum, the main east-west street was given a new level [200–400], of the same material, apparently identical to the Republican road below. At Ostia too, a surface of rubble and mortar is suspected, replacing the basalt slabs at a higher level, in the later 4th c. [346–89], on a street adjacent to the Decumanus, and probably along the whole length of the latter street. Only in this last case can we assert any downgrading of street surface quality, whereas the other examples show continuity, to set against examples of 4th c. upgrading, cited above. The Ostian example may in fact represent an incomplete paving project, as the raising of the level was accompanied by the construction of porticoes, and other embellishments, within a period when basalt was still retained at Rome, of which Ostia was effectively a suburb. In Africa, we have only one properly published example of a rough surface from a city centre: at Tipasa, the Cardo Maximus was renewed with a layer of quarry debris, badly set [300–500]. This surface was marginally worse than its early imperial predecessor, but this had been very similar, with fewer quarry fragments and being more homogenous and better laid down. Given that the quarter experienced a change of use after a fire,

57 prior to the new surface, with a fine house being turned over to fish-salting, it would be best not to read too much into this case.125 An interesting development of the 4th c. West, which has been confused with encroachment in most scholarship, is the planned narrowing of street boundaries. In this process, the whole street frontage moved, perhaps because cities believed their roadways were excessively wide, and that their margins could produce a source of revenue if disposed of through sales. This process has been well-demonstrated at Carthage, by Broise, where it began as early as the 2nd c. AD. Strips, 1.5 m to ca. 2.2 m wide, were commonly taken out of streets, initially by public buildings, but eventually by large houses and other structures, often affecting full insulae containing multiple properties, not just individual land-owners. This process gained speed in the 4th c., with major changes to streets around the odeon, dated in one case to 385–410, but was still being carried out in the mid 6th c. [533–65] in the Magon quarter. The practice seems to have encouraged some other minor encroachments, in the form of buttresses and porches, which sought to keep within similar limits. A comparable process seems to be active at Verona in 375–400, where the width of a roadway was reduced from 9.5 m to 5 m, the redundant surface being stripped of its slabs. Something similar may have happened at Serdica, on the intervallum, after the 5th c., where new building systematically narrowed the street (I have not seen a plan, only written summaries). I know of no further examples in the East, except at Alexandria. Here, street R4 was reduced from 6.5 / 6.7 m to ca. 3.5 m wide in the 6th to 7th c., having previously been narrowed by the construction of neat workshops on one side, which kept to a depth of 2–2.5 m. One suspects that money changed hands as a result of these interventions, either in the form of rent paid to the city, supported by contracts on the use of porticoes, or in the form of a sale. More ambiguous narrowing can be attested in Gaul. It is not yet clear if street narrowings seen at Bordeaux, from ca. 4 m–6 m to ca. 2 m wide [300–500 pending], and at Toulouse, from ca. 10 m to 5 m [487.5–500 pending], were done as part of planned development; only small areas have been excavated. Certainly at Arles, an intra-mural street was progressively narrowed from the 5th to the end of the 6th c. / beginning of the 7th c., from 5 m to 2.5 m. However, this was on a street that had been replanned at 5 m width in the first half of the 5th c. [400–450 pending]. At Toulouse, the street above was first replanned using the original width of ca. 10 m wide in the late 4th to early 5th c. [387.5–412.5 pending]. 125  Street surfacing in gravel, pebble, cobbles, rubble etc.: see appendix C10a.

58 Its history suggests that we do not need to look for radical change before the mid-5th c. here. Obviously, we do not have large enough excavated areas of Gallic cities to be entirely sure of the nature of these processes, even if they look more chaotic than those seen at Carthage. It is likely that in Gaul narrowing by individuals was permitted by the 5th c. in continuing urban centres. Perhaps this was thought necessary now that cities limited themselves to the space within their reduced fortification circuits, rather than spreading beyond them, as they sometimes had in the first half of Late Antiquity. As we will see, many cities, in Italy and elsewhere, kept their street boundaries into the Dark Ages, even when insulae turned into fields devoid of buildings.126 Elsewhere in the West, a slightly different process seems to have been at work: street boundaries were not set forward, but the roadway width to be resurfaced was now made substantially narrower than it once was. This suggests that city authorities, rather than local residents, wanted narrower street surfaces, which were less costly to maintain, even if still carrying materials of high quality. Thus, in Britain, at Kenchester [ca. 350–ca. 400], the final surface of the street to the city gate, of large flat stones set over cobbles, was only 3.81 m wide, half the previous size. At Exeter, there were two resurfacings to a minor street behind the basilica [during 250–365], of 1.2 m and 2.2 m wide, although the street seems to have started out with a width of 5.6 m. In Gaul, at Eauze [250–400], the spolia remetalling of the cardo was now only 4 m rather than 7 m wide, whilst the Decumanus also shrank from 5.5 m to 3.3 m at an undated time. At Rheims [200–350], a minor street, inside the north-west fortification, was resurfaced with gravel in the 3rd c. or first half of the 4th c. It was now only just over 4 m in width, though the road had previously been 9 m wide between sidewalks. Sometimes, the reductions were more modest: at Argentomagus, a north-south minor route went from 4.4 m to 4 m [360–95]. In Italy, we have a single example: at Paestum, the main east-west street was given a new beaten layer of mortared rubble, very similar to its Republican surface, but its width was reduced from 13 m to 12 m.127 In these latter cases, there may have been simply an attempt to provide some kind 126  Street narrowing: see appendix A10. 127  It is important to note that the process of ‘downgrading’ could have occurred earlier in some places experiencing change in the 3rd c. Thus, at Carthago Nova, a beaten earth surface (UE 1019) has been detected on the Decumanus of calle Don Roque-Ciprés, with pottery, from this layer or underlying layers, of the second quarter of the 3rd c., plus ARS C Hayes 50B, which is set in the 4th c. This suggests a surface accumulating in the 3rd and the 4th c. Yet, this was within an area abandoned in the middle of the 3rd c., not within a still built-up area: Vidal Nieto, Vizcaíno Sánchez and Quevedo Sánchez (2006) 185–86.

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of pedestrian space, but the overall picture suggests that narrowing was becoming increasingly common. The reality was that Western streets were often twice as wide as those in Greek cities, although one-way cart traffic was the norm even on roadways built for two: the most common set of wheel ruts on most streets are a single set, located in the middle of the carriageway, even where there was space for a double track. So, when a new quarter was built over land reclaimed from the Circular Harbour at Carthage [530–55], the paved streets extended out from the existing grid were only of a half or under a third of their 7 m width: they were 3.75 m, 2.6 m, and 2.6 m wide respectively. This was not encroachment: it was a cityled rejection of excessively wide streets.128 Nevertheless, we can see a definite downgrading of road surfaces in the West, during the 5th and 6th centuries. Examples come not only from Britain and northern Gaul, where more catastrophic changes were taking place, but also from around the Mediterranean, in regions where urban life was still far more complex. In Hispania, at Mérida, the city’s streets came to be covered by beaten earth, although the street network itself was preserved. Where this process is closely dated, it appears to be a 5th c. phenomenon: beaten earth surfaces were in place by 425 at one site in Mérida, with three other examples dating from before 500 [one of 400– 500], and no excavated examples starting after 500. At Arles, an intramural street leading to the circus district was covered in beaten earth in the beginning or middle of the 5th c. [400–450]. In Sardinia, at Nora, a beaten layer, of earth, gravel, and stone fragments, was reportedly laid above the basalt paving, some time posterior to the 5th c. AD. In southern Italy, at Egnatia, likewise, the streets show late thresholds established at a level slightly above the Early Imperial street, perhaps reflecting similar changes seen in the forum itself, where workshops, with thresholds raised ca. 30 cm above the paving, were established in 375–400. One suspects that beaten earth was laid down here. All of these developments are ‘unremarkable’, one might say, or ‘indicative of ruralisation’ perhaps, but beaten earth surfaces do imply continued urban occupation, in contrast to unmodified silt layers, which reveal the real decline of a city as a centre of dense occupation. Such changes can be attested at Aix, as here silt layers were laid down over decumani 1 and 11, along with cardines 1 and 3, from as early as 375–400, 380–405, and 420–445, with other streets stripped of surface material during the 5th–6th c., whilst a few main 128  Metalled width reduced: see appendix A10. A single example is known from the East of a narrowing of the paved area, from Gortyn (south-west quarter) north-south street in sector I, where slabs, re-laid at the same time as a drain was repaired, did not cover the full width of the street [643–68]: see appendix B7.

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routes were kept clean (cardo 2) or repaired (cardo 1).129 Significantly, Ravenna has the only post-antique surface comparable to Late Antiquity for the Early Middle Ages. An undated sequence on Via S. Muratori, in Ravenna, reveals layers of crushed brick or masonry. Such a surface might have been seen in the suburbs during Late Antiquity but was now found in the city centre.130 In Africa, at Sufetula, similar developments are attested, sometime within the period 360–600, before which time buildings had still been constructed at the ancient paving level. Later, there was a general raising of thresholds, to adapt to a new road surface, now vanished. A number of the late antique churches were subsequently set at this higher level. Something comparable seems to have occurred at Diana Veteranorum (Zana). Here, a church, built over the forum paving, was visibly constructed at a higher level, its foundations presupposing that the pavement was now buried. In both cases, it is likely that the new surfaces were in beaten earth. Such materials might seem to be more part of the urban history of the Early Middle Ages than of Late Antiquity: they recall street surfaces excavated in Milan [perhaps beginning in 539] or in Verona [beginning 587.5–615], dating from the troubled years of the later 6th c., which ushered in the ‘Dark Ages’ in Italy. Rather, the African, Spanish and southern Italian examples cited here occurred within more structured urban environments than that seen in the 7th to 9th c. Indeed, the beaten earth surfaces postulated for Sufetula and Diana Veteranorum seem to date to the same period as the relaying of street paving, at Carthage and Ravenna, both undertaken during the 6th c. In most cases, we can be sure that beaten earth represented a drop in road quality, forced upon cities out of poverty. Nevertheless, there was at least one part of the West (north-east Hispania) where beaten earth had always been the standard street surface, and where further deposits of it represented nothing new, as at Barcelona.131 The downgrading of road surfaces, on a comparable scale, is not an obvious feature of the Balkans in the same period, though we can see signs of some of these tendencies. At Augusta Traiana (Stara Zagora in Thrace), after the sack of the Huns in the mid-5th c., the paving of the streets was abandoned, being replaced by a surface of gravel, small stones, and tile fragments, at a higher level, which included a new water supply system [450]. But at Pautalia, west of Serdica, sand and gravel 129  New metalling materials, other than stone paving: see appendix C10a, C10b, and A6. 130  Layers of crushed brick or masonry: Ravenna, via S. Muratori (a minor street): see appendix J3. 131  Beaten earth in Africa: see appendix C10b. Paved street renewal at Ravenna and Carthage, in the 6th c.: see appendices B7, E1, C11 and J3 (Ravenna), J3 (Carthage).

59 had apparently replaced paving from as early as the time of Aurelian / Diocletian, although I have not been able to view the dating evidence. At Nicopolis ad Istrum [late 5th c. to 6th c.], the late fortress city’s interior was entirely without paved surfaces, in contrast to the stonepaved roads of the earlier city: only one thin cobble surface (3 cm thick) was recorded, adjacent to the eastern gate.132 But again, the site is not representative of urban development in this region: at Histria, metalled roads seem to continue in this period, whilst paving was installed at Justiniana Prima. Furthermore, at Thracian Philippopolis, despite numerous military crises, road paving was maintained in the 4th and 5th c., on some if not all of its streets. At Diocletianopolis, Tetrarchic roads were laid in gravel. Yet, on one major road, leading in from a gate, a carefully paved street (with slabs laid in rows) has been revealed, apparently dating to last quarter of the 5th c., based on (unpublished) finds from rooms along the road. At both of these sites, and elsewhere in the region, road paving seems to have remained an ideal.133 From the East Mediterranean, downgrading is more difficult to find. Laodicea ad Lycum presents a main colonnaded street resurfaced in a thick layer of mortar, after the earthquake of 494. Gerasa provides an example of a gravel road surface replacing stone slabs, happening at some time in the 5th c. or shortly after. The current excavators believe this occurred following damage from stone-carts, travelling across the paving of the main streets.134 However, Gerasa can be contrasted with many eastern sites where we can prove continuity of use of stone paving, from repairs and inscribed graffiti.135 Late antique continuity can also be assumed from the date of the first layers found deposited over road slabs: at Gortyn, a main north-south street was covered in the first half of the 7th c.; at Sardis, the colonnaded street past the gymnasium was overlain by destruction layers in which the last coins were of Heraclius; at Sagalassos, decay did not occur until after 550.136 Why did the citizens of Gerasa 132  Absence of paving: Augusta Traiana and Nicopolis ad Istrum: see appendix C10a. 133  New paving: Diocletianopolis and Justiniana Prima: see appendix B7 and C2. Paving survival at Histria: slabs seems to coexist with a house, from which coin finds are from the first 8 decades of the 6th c., that enters into the streets without any apparent raising of the level: see Stoian (1972) 124 with fig. 19. See appendix C4 for another paved street at Histria thought to date, “according to the coin finds”, to the end of the 4th and beginning of the 5th c. AD. 134  Replacement of paving by gravel: Gerasa, see appendix C10a. 135  Continued use of early paving proven by repairs and surface markings: Corinth, Pergamon, Sagalassos, Ephesus (roads of Upper Agora): L. Lavan site observations 2003–2013. 136  Continued use of early paving proven by subsequent stratigraphy: Gortyn, Sagalassos, Sardis: see appendices C3 and C10b.

60 not keep their paving as long as other sites? A comparable transition at nearby Sergiopolis [518–800] suggests a regional pattern: here a gravel surface replaces late 5th or 6th c. paving, but within the classical monumental period of the site. The gravel is itself cut by foundations for a pillar, for a statue or cross-monument, facing down the street to the east gate. Could it be that the adoption of gravel surfaces reflects a regional preference in Arabia? In support of this theory, we can note that Palmyra always maintained gravel on its main avenue, from early times into Late Antiquity, despite its elaborate colonnades. Was this to assist camels?137 Perhaps, but elsewhere gravel reflected local cultural preferences: the inhabitants of Athens continued to renew gravel on parts of the Panathenaic Way, as when it passed through the Agora, twice in the period 395–420. Furthermore, they also installed a major street using the same material, past the Metroon, in the same period. This was very odd behaviour for late antique Greece, where stone paving was normal.138 It is possible that with more careful archaeological work, the number of renovations in humble materials will increase in the East. But, on present evidence, it is fair to assert that paved streets were commonplace here and were retained throughout the 5th and 6th c. Beaten earth and other ‘downgraded’ surfaces did eventually become widespread in the East. However, the transition came substantially later there than in the West. It occurred during the 7th c. in the Aegean. At Philippi, the Commercial Road yielded a coin of Theophilus [reigned 829–42] some 0.2 m above the ancient surface, suggesting that earth surfaces had been formed, in a city which continued to be occupied throughout the Middle Byzantine period. At Gortyn, beaten earth was laid down sometime during 620–738, in one street section, and on 4 occasions in another section, during 643–738. At Sardis, cemented cobbles replaced a paving of reused slabs on the main street [sometime after 610, not dated]: but this was the best, and perhaps the only, road surface in the medieval city, a trans-regional highway that led through it. The same developments seem to have come during the 7th to mid 8th c. in the Levant, as at Scythopolis [527–749] and Palmyra [700–900]. At Scythopolis, we have only silts (on Palladius Street), or dust and soil, which reached a height of 10 cm before the earthquake of 749 (on Silvanus Street). At Palmyra, two beaten earth walking levels were recovered over the 4th c. paving of the sidewalk, and presumably were once also found on the roadway itself, which had earlier been in gravel. At Constantinople, similar changes must have 137  Gravel at Sergiopolis and Palmyra: see C10a and C3. 138  Gravel at Athens: see appendix C10a.

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taken place, given the rise in earth witnessed on the Augusteion around the Column of Justinian between the mid-6th and late 13th c. However, on the Lower Mese (at the ‘Milion Sondage’) there is a ‘Byzantine’ repaving which appears to be post-antique, coming after the marble slabs of the great street were removed, if my reinterpretation of the site is correct.139 Levelling Sometimes, roads could also be cut down to create a more level gradient or to remove obstacles to produce an uninterrupted vista along a road, by excavating out land or by dumping earth. Large-scale ground-levelling works have been detected on 3 occasions at 3 sites in the West and on 6 occasions at 5 sites in the East: at Autun [350– 75], Rome [306–12], Ostia [346–89], Justiniana Prima [535–75], Constantinople [324–30], Sagalassos twice [387.5–412.5 and 525–675], Jerusalem [500–43], and Alexandria [350–75]. Street levels were also sometimes systematically raised across large areas, as can be seen on 4 occasions at 2 sites in the West and on 4 occasions at 4 sites in the East: as at intramural Ravenna [540–600], at Ostia on 3 major streets [240–65, 250–75, 346–89], at Aphrodisias [400–25], if early reports describing a raising of 0.8–0.9 m can be believed, at Antioch [540–65], at Apamea [487.5–512.5], and at Caesarea Palestinae [550–75]. In some cases, new higher street levels might be constituted of collapse debris from manmade disasters, as at Constantinople [532–37?, after a fire] and at Antioch, or, alternatively, from flooding or from a rise in the water table, both of which are plausible explanations at Ostia, given its river-side position. In wealthy cities, a rise in street levels was the result of a desire to cover over existing paving without cutting into earlier levels. Older road slabs were either dug up for reuse, leaving only the mortar to attest to their former presence, as at Milan and Antioch, or were simply buried, as at Apamea and Caesarea. However, in general, paved surfaces tended to be retained for a long time; either because the material was very robust, as it was when basalt was used, or because other factors encouraged the retention of older surfaces, such as the high cost of replacing stone paving. Gravel streets tended to rise the most, as the depositing and levelling of new material was an effective way of managing repair.140

139  Beaten earth: see appendix C10b. Constantinople: see F9 (Column of Justinian) and C3 (under Lower Mese, 6th c. Phase). 140  Road levelling: see appendix C8. For systematic raising of streets, see C3 (Constantinople Lower Mese second Phase, after a fire, Aphrodisias, Antioch, Apamea), C9a (Caesarea Palestinae), C11 (Ravenna).

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Surface Repairs Minor repairs to road surfaces, often quite unaesthetic, reveal that roads were not maintained merely to make a political statement, but also for the sake of amenity, in all types of cities. Examples of small-scale repairs to stone paving are known on major avenues on 6 occasions at 6 sites in the West and on 12 occasions at 11 sites in the East: at Brescia [387.5–550], Milan [250– 530], Lucus Feroniae [250–544.5], Herdonia [346–600, a through route], Carthage [250–698], Sabratha [undated], Corinth [250–616], Thracian Philippopolis [250–616], Pergamon [250–614], Ephesus [410–614], Hierapolis [undated but suspected to be post 4th c.], Arykanda [250–425], Antioch [sometime after 540], Scythopolis [twice, 527–749 and undated], Gadara [undated past 250], Jerusalem [500–1099], and Ptolemais [undated]. As the broad chronological ranges given for these repairs indicate, they are rarely closely dated, in part because of very low levels of scholarly interest in them, on sites where more glamorous structures are available to dig. Large-scale resurfacing efforts in other materials have been detected, as discussed above. Yet, only at a few sites, have small-scale repairs been noted, such as the pot-holes repaired in cement at Aix. Occasionally, reports note the filling of wheel-ruts with rough materials, as at Classe [sometime after 526]. There were undoubtedly many small-scale gravel repairs. Unfortunately, reports do not always describe the extent of gravel phases, which one suspects are difficult to draw accurately, except in section. Gravel layers may not survive as evenly as paving, given the effects of nature on these less-durable levels. One feels that minor gravel road repairs represent the lowest level of interest for many archaeologists. Thus, many more cases are doubtless waiting to be studied, if they can be extracted from the ‘grey literature’ that languishes in municipal archives, in much of the West.141 Paintwork and Other Interventions Texts can add finer nuances to our account of the maintenance of monumental streets. For example, in late 4th c. Antioch [386] and in late 5th c. Edessa [497/98], governors ordered colonnades to be painted / whitewashed. The governors of Antioch also regularly obliged tradesmen to pay to have their doors painted [384.5 and 386], a duty which likely concerned shops lining the main colonnaded streets. Libanius complains that these doors were being repainted too frequently, on the whims of governors, rather than on the basis of need, penalising the artisans. Thus, it is very likely that all doors had 141  Minor surface repairs: see appendices C10a and C10b. On the wheel-ruts of Classe, see appendix B7.

61 to be painted in the same manner, as part of a single organised operation, just as portico mosaics were generally replaced as a single act by governors or pateres, rather than this being left to the initiative of individual shop occupants. Archaeology cannot yet match this textual evidence of painting, but we have at least two sites which illustrate the potential of survey work. At Apamea, as many as 8 layers of paint were discovered over the rear wall of the portico of the main north-south street [450–650], including a layer with a decorative cross, set within a scheme of red lines, on a white background. This style was likely typical of many cities, given a preference for it in shops at Sardis, at Ephesus, and in other late antique interiors. However, at Athens, the survival of a much earlier design [of the 5th c. BC!] is unsettling. Excavators have suggested that the paint on the Stoa Poikile was renewed shortly before it was jumbled into a spolia wall of the 5th c. AD, as the colour seemed very fresh when excavated. Here, the design might have survived for specific reasons, being covered by wooden boards, as in a medieval church. We are also left with the possibility that it might have been renewed in the 4th c. AD, to maintain an archaic look at this historic site, on the basis of stencils, if that is not stretching credulity too far.142 A concern for aesthetics might extend to the regulation of stalls, which topos inscriptions at Sagalassos and Perge suggest could be erected on main streets. In AD 496/97, a governor at Edessa removed tradesmen’s stalls from the colonnades, as part of a wider programme of street cleaning. Very different actions are implied at Constantinople, on the finest part of the main colonnaded avenue, between the Milion and the Capitol. Here, regulations by Zeno [474–91] prescribed the decoration of wooden stalls, set between the colonnades, which had to be fitted with marble slabs.143 Rather than seeing this law as a vain act, within a hopeless battle against encroachment, it is probably better to consider it as a symptom of care for the main colonnaded streets, organised alongside wider measures which were designed to enhance the appearance of the porticoes, such as painting and lighting. It might have been difficult to ensure a balance of commercial and civic interests, but it is clear from the legislation of Zeno and other emperors that co-existence was thought possible. 142  Painting (of porticoes): see appendix C5. On the interior decoration of shops of Sardis and Ephesus see appendices Y4 and Y5. 143   Removal of stalls from colonnades and streets, Edessa: Josh. Styl. 29 (AD 496/97). Constantinople, decoration of stalls in Regia with marble: Cod. Iust. 8.10.12.6a–6b (Zeno to Adamantius, praefectus urbi, AD 474–79: PLRE 2.6–7 Adamantius 2, praefectus urbi (AD 474–79)).

62 This was reflected in the payment of rents to the city by stall-holders, who were using the intercolumnar spaces to sell their wares.144 Street Monuments From such different types of building work, one gets a chance to imagine the architectural style of monumental streets in Late Antiquity. It was, however, equally common to develop architectural forms within street space, by adding scenographic monuments to existing avenues, colonnaded or not. Some of these were not just competently executed but even beautiful, characteristics which have led them to be mistakenly dated to the Principate. They were clearly highlights of late antique street architecture, into which a great deal of effort was invested. Frustratingly, we have very few literary sources about these structures, meaning that we must rely on close description of their architecture, decoration, and urban setting. These elements have been explored, to a certain extent, by M. Mango. Her article presents a useful summary of the eastern evidence. However, I have some further examples to add and have some different interests to her, such as in chronological and geographical diffusion. The broad sweep of her interpretation, which builds on that of Claude, seems generally wellgrounded. My only quibble is that I regard the sigma portico, when fronting large houses, as distinct from the sigma shopping plaza. The latter is usually separated from the roadway by a colonnade, and thus not part of the street proper. My dating of some of street monuments also differs from that of Mango, making my account worthwhile. Finally, I have not found quite the degree of competent ‘urban articulation’ that others have identified in the placement of these street ornaments. Rather, these monuments failed to take full advantage of their urban setting in a manner comparable to the great urban art experienced in Severan times. This is also worth exploring here.145 Round Plazas and Other Minor Plazas Round plazas were the most striking of all connective monuments of late antique date, measuring some 40 m 144  Analysis of laws on stalls and the commercial use of porticoes: Saliou (2005), identifying Lib. Or. 26.20–23 as an example of payment for stall space. 145  Previous works on the street style of Late Antiquity: see n. 20 above. Bauer (1996) 363–73, 391–84 is most optimistic about urban articulation, a position I also adopted in Lavan (2006a), without having a close enough knowledge of the evidence. Mango M. (2001) 50 believed late antique colonnaded streets to be comparable to Hellenistic examples, though without specifying why.

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in diameter, from the back walls of their porticoes. They were set into monumental avenues, as at Gerasa [293– 305], Bostra [287.5–312.5], Palmyra [oval, 259–328], Antioch [undated prior to the 6th c., identification not fully confirmed], Scythopolis [2, undated], Dyrrachium [500–525] (fig. F3a), and Justiniana Prima [535–616] (fig. B17). The round plaza was a characteristic monument of the late antique city. It cannot be confirmed archaeologically before the 4th c., although oval plazas were built before this time at Gerasa and probably at Bostra.146 A round plaza may have been built in 2nd c. Lepcis Magna: the evidence for it is slight. Only that in Carthage can be confirmed as early, and that takes its shape from the form of pre-existing Admiralty Island.147 Geographically, the round plaza appears to be most popular in the East, with Justiniana Prima and Dyrrachium being the latest and westernmost specimens. The earliest definite examples, from Gerasa, Bostra, and Palmyra, come from the Levant, around the beginning of the 4th c. Their architectural character will be discussed more fully in my chapters on fora / agorai, as will the nature of the greatest round plaza of the period, the Forum of Constantine in Constantinople [324–330]. I suspect some scenographic role for round plazas in the setting of processions, whereby a cortege moving along a colonnaded street might slow to negotiate the plaza and receive acclamations. Admittedly, there is no literary evidence to support this.148 Certainly, it seems fair to regard them as related to street space rather than as independent entities: the round plaza at Gerasa is equipped with a sidewalk linking it to the surrounding street, suggesting that pedestrians expected to encounter traffic within the plaza, as wheel ruts here confirm, which date sometime prior to 500.149 146  Early oval plazas: Gerasa (1st c. AD, never completed): Seigne (2008) 174–76; Bostra (undated, different paving to surrounding streets, but suspected to 2nd to 3rd c.): Segal (1997) 70; Dentzer, Dentzer-Feydy, and Vallerin (2007) 268, with further references; Palmyra (possibly Diocletianic, or shortly after): see appendix K1b. 147   Early round plazas: Carthage: see appendix V4b; Lepcis Magna (after Hadrianic Baths but prior to Severan building campaign): Ward-Perkins (1993) 78–79 fig. 39–40; Macdonald (1986) 55–56. This plaza (ca. 40 m diameter, 60 m from the rear wall of the portico) is hypothesised from a curb fragment ca. 8 m long, and the shape of an exedra which actually differs from that of the proposed plaza; Antioch: it cannot be known if the ‘omphalos’, where the colonnaded streets built by Tiberius I crossed (and where his honorific column was situated), was a round plaza, even if its name is suggestive. Malalas does not specify its form: Malalas 10.8, contra Downey (1961) 183 and Ball (2000) 298. 148  Round plazas: appendices K1b and S2. Constantinople (Forum of Constantine): appendix K1a. 149  Traffic use at Gerasa, sidewalks and wheel ruts: see appendices K1a and C10a.

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Street Architecture in Late Antiquity Gerasa

Bostra

Antioch

0

figure b17

Justiniana Prima

Durres

Palmyra

50m

Round plazas, excavation plans: Gerasa, Bostra, Durres, Antioch, Justiniana Prima, Palmyra

Other minor plazas might also be linked to processions, providing halts or assembly points. At Ostia, two minor squares were inserted along the Decumanus during its renovation within the period 346–89: the Piazzale della Vittoria, and another above the ruins of Nymphaeum II.IX.1, as A. Gering has noted. The first plaza, measuring ca. 22 m north-south by ca. 70 m east-west, was capable of holding large crowds. It is ideally situated, just inside the city gate, to play a role in the adventus, for magistrates such as the praefectus annonae, coming into the city from Rome. It was equipped with a large nymphaeum, with a front basin of 23 m by 4.5 m. The second plaza is something of a waystation, set two-thirds of the way along the Decumanus, towards the forum: too small (ca. 14 m by 19 m) to serve any great public function, but nevertheless likely connected to movement along the Decumanus, either ritual or utilitarian in nature. We might also imagine that animals were left there, but this is to speculate beyond what any evidence will allow.150 Round plazas were frequently decorated with statues at their centre: as at Constantinople (on a column), Dyrrachium, Justiniana 150  Minor plazas of Ostia: see appendix D2. On the praefectus annonae: see discussion in Lavan (2012a) 685.

Prima, and at Antioch (if we accept antiphoros = round plaza, a point that will be considered later). In two cases, the statues were of emperors, whilst another subject is unknown, and that at Antioch was of a senator. Tetrakionia We also find spectacular ‘tetrakionia’ monuments (Map 5a), seemingly of 4th c. date, set in round plazas, and in two cases at axial cross-roads.151 ‘Tetrakionia’ were composed of 4 podia, each carrying 4 slender columns (making 16 in total), with each group of 4 sporting an architrave canopy. The usage of the word to describe 16-column monuments is modern, though the term itself is ancient. A prototype may be found at Arabian Philippopolis, where this mid-3rd c. city [244–49], just outside our period, has a four-podium monument, without any surviving entablature. Certain examples, with very similar podia, are known from Bostra [287.5–312.5], Gerasa [293–305], and Palmyra [259–328] (fig. B18a), where they are now dated to the late 3rd to early 4th c., on account of inscriptions, the presence of spolia, and 151  Tetrakionia: see comprehensive article of Thiel (2002), plus my appendix F1, which reconsiders some of the dating and identifications.

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figure b18a ʻTetrakionionʼ (Palmyra)

structural relationships with surrounding buildings. Other examples of tetrakionia / tetrastyla have been claimed by scholars (at Antipatris, Sepphoris, and Ailia / Ayla (Aqaba)), but these are misidentifications. Only the tetrakionion at 8th c. ʿAnjar in Lebanon [709–50] is comparable, although it is inferior in quality, being composed of poorly matched reused materials. It is also considerably smaller than earlier examples. The monument does at least show a desire to revive the form in the Early Islamic period, even if we have no other examples between the mid 4th c. and the moment of its construction.152 As a monument type, the late antique examples seem to represent a localised fashion of a very specific period, in a small part of the Levant. They are unknown before the early 4th c., although the idea for the form did occur to earlier architects, as can be seen in a tomb monument from Pompeii. Thiel has suggested that tetrakionia should be associated with the Tetrarchy, and that they carried their statues, as dedicatory inscriptions suggest for the example from Gerasa. Certainly, the 152  Terminology: see Thiel (2002) 301.

chronology of the three late antique specimens does make this plausible.153 The monuments are preserved to different degrees, with Palmyra the best-surviving and best-recorded, with all its major elements complete. This had permitted a splendid restoration, recently undone by the explosives of the Islamic State group. ʿAnjarʼs tetrakionon is also entirely re-erected in one of its 4 piers, with the rest surviving to podium level, although it is not yet properly published. Rather less is preserved of the tetrakionion at Gerasa, where we have only part of the structure above podium level, little more than a few column fragments. A similar situation prevails at Bostra, where, of the upper sections, only parts of capitals have been recovered, as far as can be deduced from publications. In terms of ground plan, the ‘tetrakionion’ at Arabian Philippopolis, was inscribed inside a square of 18.85 m by 18.85 m, whilst that at Bostra was erected inside a square of 17.2 m 153  Association with the Tetrarchy: Thiel (2002) esp. 325–26. Tetrakionion tomb monument from Pompeii: Macdonald (1986) 88–90. ʿAnjar: Thiel (2002) 316–17, with full references. On the date of the city, see Hillenbrand (1999) 59–98.

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by 17.2 m, defined by a kerb. That at Palmyra was set on a platform of 19.9 m by 19.9 m, with two steps 0.35 m and 0.52 m in height, on top of which the podia rose. The podia of ʿAnjar are each set on socles of one step, which has much the same effect. At Gerasa, the invisible square into which the podia are set is ca. 10.3 m by 10.3 m, whereas at ʿAnjar it is ca. 12.9 m by 12.8 m. In both cases the podia are set directly into the ground without a kerb or platform. The height of the monuments from ground to canopy can be given in only one case: that of Palmyra, where it measures 13.51 m (14.38 m if it includes the two steps of its platform). That for Bostra is not known, except for the dimensions of a capital. The total monument height at Gerasa can be reconstructed as ca. 11.7 m and that at ʿAnjar as ca. 9.1 m. The use of podia may relate to the fragility of these columnar structures. One accident with a loaded cart could have brought a columnar canopy crashing down, justifying their setting. Although the overall impact of these monuments comes at a distance, it is worth considering the architectural elements up close. The podia used for each monument vary in footprint dimensions between 3.5 m and 5.6 m square: ca. 3.5 m by 3.8 m at ‘Anjar; 4.1 m square at Gerasa; ca. 5 m square at Palmyra, 5.1 m square at Bostra, and 5.6 m square at Philippopolis. The height of podia varies according to whether they have a supporting platform or socle, as at Palmyra (2.95 m high, on a 0.87 m platform) and ‘Anjar (ca. 2.1 m on a 0.4 m socle). Others do not, as at Gerasa (3.3 m high) and Bostra (where the superstructures of the podia have been destroyed). We do not know if the podia of Philippopolis (2.6 m high) had a platform or not. Gerasa’s podia are perhaps the best conceived. The base and cap mouldings are wellproportioned; there are pilasters on the corners; the centre of each side has a niche topped by a beautifully-cut shell and flanked by rosettes. The podia of Palmyra are rather simpler, being now heavily weathered, and those at Philippopolis, had simple splay faces for moulding. In contrast, at ‘Anjar, the podia mouldings are complex and well-executed, with 9 changes of angle visible at the top. The entablature moulding at ‘Anjar is also well-cut, if not as complex as that at Palmyra, in contrast to the mixed columns and capitals seen within the rest of the Umayyad structure. The columns of Palmyra seem to have been in violet-grey Troadesian granite, whilst those of Gerasa were of Egyptian red granite. Those of ‘Anjar seem to be in white limestone. At Palmyra, they were 6.91 m in length, 5.2 m at Gerasa, and ca. 4.2 m at ‘Anjar. The capitals were in the Corinthian style at all sites, ca. 1.1 m high at Bostra, ca. 0.78 m high at Gerasa, and ca. 0.75 m at ‘Anjar. Those at Bostra were heavily grooved, suggesting that they were covered in bronze, so probably gilded.

The podia seem to have supported statues, imperial in at least one case, either under the canopy or above the entablature. If life-size statues were set above, we can imagine that the tetrakionion at Gerasa reached a total monument height of ca. 12.45 m, and that at Palmyra 15.26 m or 16.13 m, although ‘Anjar would probably have only reached ca. 10.85 m if it had a similar statue (of 1.75 m height). But the small bases between the columns of each podium at Palmyra suggest that the most likely place for such statues was, in fact, under the canopy. The three late antique tetrakionia seem to be roughly contemporary with, or built shortly after, the round plazas in which they were set, and were probably intended as an integral part of the design of each space. In contrast, ʿAnjar was simply set at an axial crossroads, as that of Philippopolis had been.154 Tetrakionia were delicate structures with great scenographic potential: the shadows and partial views created by their columns could engage observers moving around them at whatever time of day they were encountered. They were perhaps the most sophisticated street ornaments of the late antique period. Indeed, it is very likely that the mid-4th c. description of Bostra as a city ‘in qua publicum opus tetrapyli mirantu’ (Expositio totius mundi 38), relates to its tetrakionion with gilded capitals. The high quality of such structures has sometimes caused scholars to date them to the Early Imperial era. However, the dating from Bostra is now unambiguous. The example from Umayyad ʿAnjar suggests that their popularity endured in the region. When one takes a broader view, it is clear that tetrakionia were part of a wider family of spectacular late antique street monuments, alongside ‘tetrastyla’ and tetrapyla, being examples of late investment in street ornament. Tetrakionia were simply executed to an especially high standard, in what was one of the wealthiest regions of the empire. This architectural excellence did not, however, extend to fully exploiting the position of monuments within the city: at Bostra and Gerasa, the tetrakionia do not match the portico alignments of the surrounding avenues, so must be considered monuments-in-plazas rather than sight-line monuments. At Palmyra, the tetrakionion was set within a plaza that resolves a change in angle in the Great Colonnaded Street, but, again, there was no attempt to create a direct sight-line to the monument, as between the Champs-Élysées and the Arc de Triomphe at Paris. Tetrastyla ‘Tetrastyla’ (Map 5b) were also composed of 4 freestanding bases, with each topped by a single column, 154  Decoration of round plazas: see appendix K1b.

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figure b18b ‘Tetrastylon’ (Ephesus) Photo: copyright Austrian Archaeological Institute

all carrying statues (see fig. B18b).155 Rather than being built in round plazas, they were built on streets, sometimes as ornaments of major crossroads, as at Ptolemais. Nevertheless, those at Ephesus and Apamea were conceived as ornaments within colonnaded streets, not for junctions, whilst that at Alexandria stood within the Serapeion temple enclosure. Tetrastyla are dated to the 3rd or 4th c. at Aphrodisias [287.5–400], to the 4th c. at ?Alexandria, to the earlier 5th c. at Ephesus [415– 40], and to the 6th c. at Ephesus [ca. 525–75], Apamea [487.5–512.5], and ?Carthage [ca. 537.5–562.5]. Ptolemais is not dated closer than within Late Antiquity [250–642]. When used as street ornaments, tetrastyla were confined to Asia Minor, the Levant, and Egypt, although the very late candidate at Carthage served to mark the entrance of the circular harbour from its causewayed access road. Thiel has again suggested that this type of monument should be associated with the Tetrarchy, relating them to honorific dedications to the 4 emperors, whose images did in some cases stand on their columns. Yet, this Tetrarchic chronology can only be confirmed for a few 155  Tetrastyla: see Thiel (2006), with appendix F2.

tetrastyla, not set within streets. These are found at Luxor and perhaps at Alexandria, and as row-tetrastyla, at Ara Philenorum and twice at Rome. In the latter city, 5 columns were set on both rostra of the Forum Romanum. Elsewhere, such close dating is not always possible. A few tetrastyla are demonstrably earlier [from the 2nd–3rd c.] or even later than Thiel’s main period [from the 6th c., at Ephesus]. The tetrastyla at Aphrodisias and Ephesus (Arcadiane) are best preserved. That at Aphrodisias survives partly upright due to its incorporation within a later church. At Ephesus, a substantial part of the architectural elements of the Arcadiane tetrastylon were preserved alongside their foundation socle, permitting partial anastylosis. The Lower Agora tetrastylon survives as a series of architectural elements out of context: no socle or foundation platform is known. For Apamea and Ptolemais, we have the stepped socles / foundations of the piers and only a few architectural fragments for the superstructure (of capitals and columns). For Carthage, we have socle foundations respectively, but nothing else. At Aphrodisias, 4 octagonal stepped socles were set directly on a massive mortared rubble platform. At all other sites, the

Street Architecture in Late Antiquity

socles were set into the surrounding paving / surfaces, as far as I can tell from the available documentation. The Aphrodisias monument is placed within a square of ca. 10.6 m by 10.8 m (east-west, north-south). At Ephesus (Arcadiane), the structure was inscribed within an invisible rectangle of 11.48 m by 11.4 m. The second Ephesian example was considerably smaller, as its column length will reveal. At Apamea, the overall square area in which the monument is inscribed is ca. 16.65 m by 16.65 m. At Ptolemais, the area was 9.5 m by 9.5 m. At Carthage, the rectangle was irregular, 7.8 m on both long sides, but 5.9 m and 5.2 m on the short sides. The Near Eastern examples are obviously the largest, followed by those of Asia Minor, and finally those of Africa / Egypt. Tetrastyla vary in height: that at Aphrodisias reaching ca. 12.12 m (column length ca. 6.6 m), that at Ephesus (Arcadiane) ca. 10.54 m (ca. 5 m), at Ephesus (Agora) 7.5 m to 8 m (4–4.5 m), and that at Ptolemais ca. 7–8 m (3.52 m), if life-size statues are included in each calculation. In no case are exotic marbles reported for the columns, which is surprising. Stepped socles were standard for tetrastyla, being confirmed wherever much of the lower superstructure survives. At Aphrodisias, the socles measure ca. 3 m across, at Ptolemais, roughly 4.5 m square, at Carthage, ca. 1.75 m by 1.35 m, at Ephesus (Arcadiane) 3.02 m square, at Apamea, ca. 4.5 m square. There seems to have been 2 steps here, 3 at Aphrodisias, as at Ephesus (Arcadiane). The most sophisticated monument is undoubtedly that at Aphrodisias, with octagonal bases supporting octagonal pedestals, all standing on octagonal socles. Above these stood white marble plinths, Attic-Ionic column bases and grey marble monolithic columns, carrying Corinthian capitals. The columns have carved projecting heads / masks, half a metre before the top. Surviving motifs are of a man’s mask and a bull’s head. Ephesus (Arcadiane) has round pedestals set directly on socle steps, with an Attic base and a Corinthian capital. The pedestals contain 6 arched niches separated by engaged colonnettes carrying Corinthian capitals, with crosses and other decorative motifs set in the niches. The upper parts of the pedestals have carvings between the niches: Latin crosses, vases, birds, doves, trees hung with fruit and ivy. The monument is so well-built, in both finish and measurements, compared to the surrounding late antique buildings of the city, that one might imagine it was erected from prefabricated pieces by a travelling architect on an imperial commission. The suggestion that this monument carried statues of the Four Evangelists should be discounted. Only imperial statues have ever been attested on such monuments, when we have inscriptions to confirm their identities.

67 Most of the tetrastyla seem quite comparable in their design, with stepped socles supporting pedestals for monolithic columns, and with column bases and capitals of similar proportions. Differences occur in refinements of detail, such as in the shape of the pedestal or its carved decoration. Nonetheless, there are few notable oddities / variations. Firstly, the second tetrastylon at Ephesus, that from the Lower Agora, had its statues attached directly to the Ionic impost capitals, rather than to pedestals set above such capitals. Secondly, at Apamea, the internal design of the stonework in the piers suggests that the columns were actually set on the inner corners of the squares, not at their centre. Thirdly, at Ptolemais, only 4 monolithic columns were found, with other architectural fragments, one set for each of the socles, even though the columns are slender enough (ca. 0.5 m) for 4 columns to have fitted on each socle, each of which measure ca. 4.5 m by 4.5 m. Finally, at Carthage, the 4 piers of the ‘tetrastylon’ are not entirely aligned with each other, making a tetrastylon or tetrakionion more likely than a tetrapylon. Admittedly, this irregularity might be the result of earth movements, given the sea water in the ground here, and their proximity to the edge of the harbour. But considering the irregularity of other late structures within the plaza, it is equally possible that the ‘tetrastylon’ was built in this manner. Tetrapyla Tetrapyla (four-way triumphal arches) (Map 5c) were built at axial crossroads in Late Antiquity, and also in some suburban settings.156 Unlike tetrakionia, they are not a specific development of the period, but rather the continuation of a tradition with earlier roots. Examples are known from Richborough (1st c.), Gerasa (2nd c.), Laodicea ad Lycum, and Lepcis Magna (early to mid 3rd c.).157 Of these, Gerasa and Lepcis Magna were situated on a central axial crossroads. Late antique tetrapyla were often very elaborate, being built less often than simple monumental arches. Contemporary authors frequently emphasise them as impressive structures in their descriptions of cities, suggesting they were a focus of urban 156  Mülenbrock (2003): This main study of tetrapyla became available to me only at the end of my work on this chapter. This impressive tome provides more references than my book, although I have arrived at my views independently and have had access to significant new data. I owe my knowledge of Romuliana to it, and some details, acknowledged in the appendix F3. 157  Tetrapyla before Late Antiquity: e.g. Richborough (1st c.), Gerasa (2nd c.), Lepcis Magna, Theveste (early 3rd c), with full listing in Mülenbrock (2003) 300, plus catalogue 127–298.

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figure b19a A tetrapylon without its attic (Rome, ʻArch of Janusʼ). See Fig. B19 for this monument with its attic

pride. Well-preserved examples, such as that in Rome, are still impressive today as multi-directional monuments (fig. B19a Reconstructed, except for Thessalonica. Some may have had pyramidal roofs).158 One should not underestimate the ambition of these structures, nor the wonder they provoked. The mid-4th c. tetrapyla of Carnuntum and of Rome (Janus) both use optical illusions in the design of their piers, to give the impression 158  Tetrapyla emphasised in urban descriptions: Antioch: Lib. Or. 11.204–205, who describes it as set at the junction of 4 colonnaded streets, one of which is short and leads to the palace; Nicaea: IK 41.1 1.553 = SEG 29.1320 is a late antique epitaph which names a baker who lived at the stone of the tetrapylon, which Foss interprets as being the name of an urban quarter, named after the monument, as seen at Side: Foss (1996) 10, n. 17; Sardis: inscription names tetrapylon connected to an embolos: SEG 26.1318 = Foss (1976) 115 no. 18; Bostra: Expositio totius mundi 38 (the only monument mentioned in the city); Caesarea Palestinae: Expositio totius mundi 26 (it is famous everywhere and unique in its type); Miracles of St. Anastasius the Persian 7 (it is located in the centre of the city). Alexandria: Joh. Moschus 77, believed at the end of Late Antiquity to be place where Alexander buried the relics of prophet Jeremiah, and was held in great honour by the Alexandrians. It was situated towards the centre of the city, according to text cited by Adriani (1966) 254 (not seen). We have to accept the possibility that some tetrapyla named in these sources might have been our ‘tetrakionia’.

that they are larger than they really are, to those passing through. At Constantinople, Anastasius’ Chalke Gate was only roofed by the virtuoso architect Aetherius. The result was considered spectacular enough to merit an epigram, recorded by the Palatine Anthology. The majority of late tetrapyla were erected in the 4th c., but there was a strong second peak in the late 5th to 6th c. (graph 17). One was constructed at Antioch under Zeno, another at Constantinople under Anastasius and again in the capital under Justinian, the last two being phases of the Chalke Gate. A poorly published case comes from Laodicea ad Lycum, from the 5th or 6th c. A final example from Zenobia is dated to ca. 550, based on its association with the renewal of the city. Furthermore, Justin II redecorated the Milion tetrapylon with statues, whilst Maurice seems to have placed statues on the Chalke.159 Examples of new tetrapyla (see fig. B19b) are known in 6 cases at 5 sites in the West: at Rome (Malborghetto) [312–15 inscr.], at Rome (Arch of Janus) [337–57], at Carnuntum [337–61], at Keszthely-Fenékpuszta [333–366, pending], and at Cirta Constantina [362–63 inscr.]. An odd example comes 159  Tetrapyla, late antique examples: see appendix F3, which lists some late candidates (e.g. Gabu Iunes and Korykos) which I do not consider well-founded.

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10m

Rome, Arch of Janus

Carnuntum

Rome, Malborghetto Thessalonica

figure b19b Tetrapyla, comparative sections: Carnuntum, Rome (Arch of Janus), Rome (Malborghetto), Thessalonica

from Vienne, of reduced size, serving as a circus ornament, and is not firmly dated. In the East, new tetrapyla are known on 13 occasions at 8 sites: at Thessalonica [299–311, dating based on texts], at Mytilene on Lesbos [293–305 inscr.], at Constantinople [5 times 324–425 text, 324–63 text, 425–57 text, 498 text, and 532–58 text + arch.], at Nicaea [300–306], at Laodicea ad Lycum [494–610], at Antioch [twice, 287 text, 474–91 text], at Zenobia [ca. 550], and at Athribis in Egypt [374 inscr.]. A further example is known from the villa of Galerius at Romuliana. Some other candidates should be dismissed: for example, a ‘tetrapylon’ identified at Ailia / Ayla in Jordan depends on very modest structural evidence and seems rather to be an Abbasid house. Churches from Cilicia re-classified as pseudo-tetrapyla should not be accepted without excavation. Tetrapyla were almost never spoliated, attesting to their popularity, both at the very end of Antiquity and beyond.160 The ground plans of tetrapyla and tetrakionia / tetrastyla do not provide any basis to distinguish between the different types of structure. My comparative table 160  Tetrapylon at Ailia / Ayla: see appendix F1. Spoliated tetrapylon: one hypothetical example is known from Rome, see appendix F4.

(fig. B20a) reveals that their podia are similar in dimensions and spacing. This means that a four-piered monument at Apamea cannot be identified as a tetrakionion from its foundation imprints alone, as has been suggested by Balty. It is, however, very clear that the extant Chalke piers at Constantinople are those of a tetrapylon, blocking the street crossing in front of the palace, rather than a triumphal arch: they are square, not rectangular. No-one has attempted, so far, to compare foundation depth on any monument, which might be a way of detecting different types. The design of tetrapyla—of 4 massive piers capped by impost mouldings supporting a groin-vault—seems universal for urban tetrapyla, except in two cases. At Cirta, 19th c. surveys show that a structure, named as a tetrapylon by its inscriptions, had the form of a cross-hall, as is found in military camps; its 4 walls are all one single block thick and make up a square, into which 4 arched portals were set. It reminds one of the groma building of 267/78 at the axial crossing of the camp of Lambaesis (fig. B20b). A comparable building has been found at the axial street crossing of Keszthely-Fenékpuszta in Hungary, where two L-shaped foundations have been uncovered. The lost Chalke Gate of Anastasius in Constantinople seems to have taken a similar form. A description in the Palatine Anthology,

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Tetrakionia Gerasa

Bostra

Palmyra

Tetrastyla Ephesus

Apamea

Aphrodisias

Philippopolis

Ptolemais

Zenobia

Tetrapyla Carnuntum

Vienne

Rome, Malborghetto

Rome, Arch of Janus

Thessalonica

Arches Rome, Arch of Constantine

Rome, Prima Porta

Milan

Sufetula

Announa

Serdica

Constantinople, Golden Gate of Theodosian Wall

Argos

Perge, north arch

Perge, south arch

Athens, Festtor

Ptolemais

0

50m

figure b20a Simplified plan of ‘Tetrakionia’, ‘Tetrastyla’, Tetraplya, and Arches

describes it as open to the winds on four sides, but being a vast space that initially could not be covered. The monument may have been comparable to cross-hall arches seen at Ephesus, Anazarbos or Sergiopolis, on which see below, rather than having arches set on piers. Plan dimensions of most extant tetrapyla are broadly similar. At Carnuntum, the piers occupy a near-square area of ca. 15.44 m by 15.44 m. At Rome (Malborghetto), the tetrapylon is inscribed inside a rectangle of 14.86 m by 11.87 m excluding moulding (ca. 50 Roman feet by 40 Roman feet). At Rome (Janus), the arch is inscribed within an irregular-angled square of ca. 18.5 m (socle measurement). At Cirta, the structure was inscribed inside a square of 14.3 m, with openings of 6.2 m. The walls of the building appear to be 1.45 m thick. At Thessalonica, the

original tetrapylon probably occupied an area of 18.54 m by 18.54 m (assuming it was a regular square, including its mouldings). Only Keszthely-Fenékpuszta comes in substantially smaller: the ground plan covering 10 m by 10 m with 6 m openings, very small even when compared to cross-halls in forts. At Constantinople, for the Chalke of Justinian, Procopius’ texts suggest a vaulted structure carrying a dome, whilst archaeology implies a square-piered tetrapylon set immediately in front of the palace entrance, so leading through the palace boundary wall, of which the eastern half has survived. If set at this point, the monument seems likely to have occupied a total ground area of 17.5 m by 17.5 m, entirely blocking a key crossroads. This was perhaps the same spot as occupied by Anastasius’ Chalke, unless it was in the palace

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figure B20b Cross-hall tetrapylon, legionary camp, Lambaesis, Numidia, with inscription of 267/78 (AE (1974) 723) naming it as a groma, the point where surveyors laid out their groma instrument at the centre of a new fortress. A similar building, at Cirta, is described on its inscriptions as a tetrapylon.

courtyard beyond. At Zenobia, the arch is much smaller than the others, inscribed within a square of (ca.?) 8 m by 8 m. The plans of both Carnuntum and Rome (Janus) reveal an interesting manipulation of design. Piers are angled so as to make the monument appear larger to someone passing under it from the south or west. This trompe-l’œil effect, probably the trademark of a particular architect, provides an element of sophistication to late tetrapyla, not seen so far in tetrakionia or tetrastyla. Heights can be calculated from tetrapyla in a number of cases. At Carnuntum, the monument survives to ca. 14.65 m, although it would have risen to ca. 15 m to reach the top of the attic, or higher if it was capped by a pyramid. The arched vault rises to a height of ca. 9.2 m above the top of the foundation. At Rome (Malborghetto), the reconstructed total monument height is 17.55 m. At Rome (Janus), the height was ca. 18.5 m, whereas the vault height above the ground is ca. 11.25 m. Recent excavations, alongside archive work, have revealed that a now lost attic was part of the original construction and consisted of a vaulted cryptoporticus with a central chamber. At Cirta Constantina, the likely height

of the vault was ca. 10–12 m, with another ca. 0.95 m above this to the recorded top flat level of the arch at ca. 10.95 / 12.95 m; it is not known if there was a further attic above this in Antiquity. At Thessalonica, the total height of the arch is ca. 12.6 m and the total surviving height of the monument is ca. 13.6 m, which surely went higher. Architectural features are best-preserved on the tetrapylon at Carnuntum and the two examples from Rome. At Carnuntum, there are marble console blocks present in the attic, which likely supported columns flanking the niches detected here. These niches are similar to those on the Arch of Janus at Rome, although those at Carnuntum decorate the attic not the piers. At Rome (Malborghetto), pieces of a column (6 m in length), a composite base and a capital survive, with a total order height of 7.05 m, along with pieces of architrave block (marble). It is possible that the attic supported a conical roof above this, as reconstructed in one 15th c. drawing by Sangallo. A pyramidal roof still capped the ‘tetrapylon’ at Vienne, and is known for at least one case at Constantinople: the Bronze Tetrapylon / Anemodoulion was covered in this manner and the form was perhaps used for the Golden

72 Tetrapylon of the Milion or the bronze roof (χαλκείων ὀρόφων) of the Anastasian Chalke, a structure which is described as shining with gold (χρυσοφαές). We do not know if the name derives from bronze tiles on the roof or from its doors. At Thessalonica, a dome has been suggested for the crossing, but all that survives on the site are incomplete barrel vaults, which would have formed a groin-vault. Above this we do not know what roof structure was used. For the Chalke of Justinian, we know structural details of the interior from Procopius, who describes a vaulted structure with at least one dome, sitting on 4 arches, with 2 further arches on the north and south sides. The side vaults were each filled with decorative colonnades of one column supporting two arches, as in the southern façade of the Church of St. Irene. At Zenobia, we know little of the superstructure. We can confirm it as a tetrapylon because the arrangement of the piers suits neither a tetrastylon nor a tetrakionion in the upper parts. Decoration, can be traced only on a few details, relating to reliefs and revetment. At Rome (Malborghetto), Sangallo’s commentary, in his 15th c. sketch, seems to suggest he saw some ‘armadure’ on the monument, which could mean that there were reliefs of trophies within friezes when he witnessed the structure. However, the phrasing of Sangallo’s text leaves this entirely hypothetical. At Thessalonica, the reliefs include depictions of imperial sacrifices, battles, an adventus, and an adlocutio to the troops. At Nicaea, four relief blocks, likely from a comparable tetrapylon, feature a battle between Romans and ‘Alemanni’. Marble ashlars or revetment were used to cover the remaining external surfaces of these monuments. At Carnuntum, the arch was covered by a veneer of finer limestone blocks (Muschelkalk). At Rome (Malborghetto), the structure was faced with marble, with the impost mouldings being in travertine. At Rome (Janus), the tetrapylon was also covered in a revetment of marble (only part of which was reused) up to the top of its arches; the now-lost brick-faced concrete attic was also veneered in the same material. No columns nor capitals are known for the structure, though they may have been robbed. Procopius records that the Justinianic Chalke Gate had marble floors and revetment, of what sounds like Proconnesian marble (white with wavy lines of blue), Verde Antico (from Sparta, emerald in colour), and ‘flame of fire’. Above this, on the ceiling (in mosaic), were details of Justinian’s victories (in Italy and Libya, but not Hispania) and conquered kings and captives, with Justinian, Theodora and the Senate. At Cirta, the faces of the monument recorded by illustrators are plain, except for the impost moulding, although the voussoirs seem finely cut. There is no applied decoration, with ashlar stone facing preferred to

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any veneers. At Zenobia, the pier blocks have well-cut though plain mouldings, with engaged columns.161 In terms of statues, one of the tetrapyla at Constantinople was covered in those of emperors. That inside Rome (Janus) included relief statuary of divinities protective of the Roman State. These include Palladian Minerva and the Dea Roma, amongst others uncontroversial images for the mid 4th c. The latter monument also had 12 niches on each side, 48 in total (now empty) which would have presented rich walls of ornament to the onlooker. The tetrapylon at Carnuntum had niches for statues at attic level. That at Thessalonica (finished as a six-piered arch) had life-size bronze statues (probably of the Tetrarchs) set in niches above each pier. Another tetrapylon at Antioch, built under Zeno, was decorated with ‘very fine adornments and bronze statues’ according to Malalas, at a date when statues were increasingly rare. The Milion and Chalke were likewise given imperial statue groups, under Justin II and Maurice, being amongst the latest imperial sculptures anywhere: on the first, gilded statues of Sophia, the wife of Justin II, and of Arabia, her daughter, and of Helena, her niece; on the second, the Emperor Maurice and his children. The latter are said by the 8th c. Parastaseis to have stood above an icon of Christ, discussed later in this chapter. The impressive high-relief friezes of the Thessalonian arch, developing a style seen in Severan Lepcis Magna, seem likely to have produced a sensation of sculptural envelopment for those passing through. The same type of frieze has been found at Nicaea, undoubtedly relating to a tetrapylon. Elephant sculptures decorated that at Antioch, whilst the Milion at Constantinople seems to have held a quadriga for a Zeus / Helios statue, perhaps personifying Constantine. The positioning of tetrapyla at the crossing of axial streets continued. In the late 3rd / early 4th c. the intersection of two colonnaded streets with a cross-hall tetrapylon can be seen in military camps at Palmyra [272–305] and El-Lejjūn [303–363]. In the 4th to 5th c., the same arrangement can be seen in an urban context at Thessalonica, Antioch, and Constantinople, where the Chalke seems to have joined the east-west Regia to a north-south street that bordered the palace compound, according to the latest excavations. It is tempting to see the Milion / Golden Tetrapylon connecting a crossroads, formed by the Lower Mese and the Regia (going towards the Palace), alongside narrower streets running 161  Tetrapyla decoration: see appendix F3, with Mühlenbrock (2003) 114–25. One wonders if the missing revetment of Malborghetto or Carnuntum might also have been sculpted, so that it could have joined the elaborate display of the other tetrapyla.

Street Architecture in Late Antiquity

north-south, but this seems unlikely: we have no indication that the Milion was an unavoidable obstacle which closed any street. The Bronze Tetrapylon on the Upper Mese was, after all, set to one side of the great avenue, marking a junction with the Makros Embolos, which led off to the north.162 In other cases, one might not pass through tetrapyla, but rather round them: at Rome (Malborghetto) a kerb was set to keep traffic away from what was an ornamental roundabout, which contained the quadrifons. At Carnuntum, despite the trompe-l’œil design, a circular statue base (more credibly a milestone?) blocked the central crossing, preventing wheeled traffic from getting through. Both of these sites were extramural. Indeed, Carnuntum suggests a possible model for the Golden Tetrapylon / Milion of Constantinople, if we imagine a golden columnar milestone underneath the vault of the latter monument. This might also explain its name, which is otherwise inappropriate for a tetrapylon. I could go as far as to suggest that this golden milestone was for a time capped by the Tyche of Rome, but that is to go beyond what the evidence can prove, into speculation, which I do not wish to indulge in here. We can obtain some idea of the function of tetrapyla, even in the absence of dedicatory inscriptions. The concentration of tetrapyla in late antique imperial capitals suggests that they were seen as an especially imperial monument. Furthermore, one tetrapylon which does have a dedicatory text, from the city of Athribis in Egypt, was dedicated to Valens and celebrated the decennalia of Valentinian and Valens. But monument position and decoration imply that the intended role of tetrapyla was in most cases to celebrate victory. Thus, the tetrapylon at Malborghetto seems to celebrate the victory of Constantine over Maxentius at Saxa Rubra, outside of Rome. That at Carnuntum, also beyond the suburbs, likely relates to a specific victory celebration, perhaps of Constantius II, who is said to have erected arches in Gaul and Pannonia to celebrate his military achievements. We might hazard a similar role for the tetrapylon at Romuliana, set at a crossroads between the imperial residence and its mausolea, sometime in 293–311.163 For the Arch of Galerius in Thessalonica, the association with victory was especially obvious from the sculpted friezes, as it was from those of the similarly decorated monument at Nicaea. This seems to have celebrated Constantius I’s defeat of the Alemanni, based on the Roman-German battle frieze recovered, which is inscribed with the word ‘Alamannia’. The elephant ornament of the tetrapylon 162  ‘Tetrapyla’ in forts, see appendix F6. The military examples were a much lighter type of monument: a four-sided junctionroom, with thin walls and no vaulted roof, rather than an arch. 163  Arches of Constantius: Amm. Marc. 21.16.15.

73 at Antioch also had long-standing associations with victory parades, since Pompey used them in his triumph over the East. Finally, the Chalke of Justinian, with its interior mosaics celebrating conquests of Justinian, up to the reconquest of Italy, must have seemed something of a shrine to the notion of imperial victory, as one entered into the Great Palace. The cross-hall tetrapylon of Cirta, the only urban example found far away from imperial stamping grounds, was perhaps different, more of a street ornament. Three identical inscriptions, written without a border on the walls of the tetrapylon, not on any attic panel, note its construction by Claudius Avitianus (vicar of Africa AD 362–63). They make no illusion to military events or to an emperor, but give simply a terse record of the monument’s construction, which was carried out with porticoes, alongside a basilica named after Constantius II. Tetrapyla at Thessalonica, at Constantinople, and at Antioch served as palace gateways. Procopius noted, of the Chalke of Justinian, that ‘We know the lion … by his claw, and so those who read this will know the impressiveness of the Palace from the vestibule’ (Aed. 1.10.11, transl. Dewing (1954)). Other tetrapyla seem to have been associated with urban ornamentation, built in connection with porticoes at Cirta and Thessalonica. Those at Romuliana and Carnuntum were set at extramural crossroads, perhaps because they covered milestones, as I have suggested for the latter site. The tetrapylon at Vienne, which sat on the spina of a circus, looks to be something of an architectural joke, and may not be late at all. Quite what the function of the ‘Arch of Janus’ in Rome was, is not completely certain. It did stand on the route of triumphal processions, but its decoration suggests an apotropaic purpose, perhaps connected to its location at the old boundary of the Servian Walls. It is named as an Arch of the deified Constantine in the Notitia Urbis Romae, suggesting that its main role was to memorialise, asserting the legitimacy of his son Constantius II after the latter had vanquished Magnentius. The reference to Constantine may also have been appropriate given the circumstances: his father’s own arch was erected to celebrate victory in a civil war, and Constantius’ reunification of the Roman world could pose as a restoration of the oecumene of Constantine. Certainly, the inscriptions of both arches referred to the defeat of a tyrant. Yet, but if military victory was all that Constantius sought, the arch could have carried his own name. Perhaps it was this Roman monument which riled Ammianus Marcellinus to produce his famous barb (21.16.15) against Constantius’ celebration of victories in civil war, rather than any ‘triumphal arches in Gaul and Pannonia’. As we will see below, Constantius’ reign actually saw the near-abandonment

74 of the traditional triumphal arch as a monumental form. Any arches / tetrastyla erected in Gaul or Pannonia likely related to his real victories over the Alemanni in 353–54. Monumental Arches A great many monumental arches were built in the first half of Late Antiquity, stretching from Britain to Cyrenaica, a type of structure named in Latin inscriptions as arcus and in Greek literary texts as ἀψῖδα. Newbuilt examples (Map 6a) nearly all belong in the late 3rd to early 5th c., although a handful from Constantinople and Ephesus date from a few decades later, and new types emerge in the Levant in the 6th c. In the West, 28 examples are known from 16 sites, of which over a quarter come from Rome, whilst the East has produced 20 examples from 12 sites, of which a quarter come from Constantinople. From Britain, we have an arch at Verulamium [296–308.5], whilst none are yet identified from Gaul or Hispania. From the imperial capitals of Italy, we have one at Milan [375–400] and 8 in the Eternal City [250–544.5, 293–94, 312.15, 364–65 inscr. only, 379–83, 398, 402–408, 404]. In Africa, we have arches at Thibilis [3 times, 284–305, 284–305, 375–78], Macomades [twice, 303, 364–67 both inscr. only], Leges Maiores [375–78], Ad Maiores [twice in 286–93], Ghadarmiou [379–83], Thubursicum Numidarum [twice, 355–60 and undated], Thugga [293–305], Thuburiscu Bure [293–305], Aradi? [364–67], Theveste [364–92 inscr. only], Municipium … lense [282–92 inscr. only], Sufes [293–94 inscr. only], and Sufetula [293–305]. The arches of Africa listed here are attested by both inscriptions and archaeology, unless stated otherwise, although several extant structures have not been surveyed. From the Balkans, we have examples from Serdica [undated], Athens [400–412.5], Argos [350– 400], Corinth [250–616], and Constantinople [5 times, 324–455 text, 324–30 text, 394, 394 text + more, 324–616 depiction]. From Asia Minor, there are examples from Ephesus [twice, 410–36, 410–36], Xanthos [293–305], Perge [twice, 250–415, 250–614], and Anazarbos [400– 614]. From the Levant, with the exception of Refasa [3 times, all 475–518], we have only an undated arch from a non-urban settlement at Bab al-Hawa (not counted here) and a non-fitting voussoir block from Caesarea [324–640] which might relate to an arch either built in spolia within the city gate or an arch rebuilt at this time. In contrast, Cyrenaica has produced two new arches, from Ptolemais [311–13] and Tocra [313–34]. In terms of chronological range, a large number are Tetrarchic in date: 13 in total, of which 8 come from Africa, 1 from Britain, 1 from Rome, and 1 from Asia Minor. Only 4 can be definitely dated to the period of Constantine, 2 coming from imperial capitals and 2 from the province of Cyrenaica. There is then a dearth of interest, with a single arch from the joint reign of Constantius

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II and Julian, before the greatest peak of construction during the Valentinianic-Theodosian dynasty, under whom 17 were erected, with a peak in 375–425 (graph 19), a time when the empire was desperate for victories. A few more cannot be dated with precision. In terms of regional distribution, new arches are mainly from Africa or the Aegean, with a few outliers. No convincing examples of new traditional arches come from Hispania, Gaul, or the Levant. Those found in the two ‘cluster’ regions are very different in character. The arches of the first cluster, of Africa and Rome (fig. B21a), are highly conservative, being essentially variations of columnar façade architecture, with moulded piers and cornices. They can be related to imperial arches of the 3rd c. and earlier. That at Sufetula (fig. B21c) has been compared to the Severan Arch at Ammaedara, whilst in Rome, the Arch of Constantine resembles that of Septimius Severus.164 In contrast, those of the Aegean cluster, (fig. B21b), seem, where we can recover details, to have been flamboyant and experimental, exhibiting radically individual designs, both in imperial capitals and lesser cities. The province of Cyrenaica appears superficially conservative: the remains from both Ptolemais and Tocra suggest arches that a 2nd c. Italian would have recognised. Yet, the arch of Ptolemais, whilst triple-portalled with an attic, has its closest parallel with the Arch of Theodosius from Constantinople, although it dates nearly a century earlier. In the Near East, a very different tradition emerges, just as the monumental arch seems to have died out in its Early Imperial form. This is a style of thin arches, only one block of stone thick. These come either in the form of hollow rectangles, similar to the cross-hall tetrapylon, or of simple wall-arches (Map 6c), perhaps inspired by the thin ‘Gate of Hadrian’ arches known at both Athens and Ephesus. There are 5 ‘hollow’ arches from three sites, which are of mainly later 5th to early 6th c. date. There are also 5 wall arches from three sites, of later 5th to early 7th c. date (fig. B21d–f). From Ephesus, the Arch of Hercules [410–36] presents a ‘hollow arch’, as does the extraordinary structure set across the great street crossing of Anazarbos [400–614, but probably 6th c.]. At the latter site, an elongated crosshall takes the form of an arch that allows the east-west street to pass laterally through it, via a single portal, subordinating it to the north-south street, which passes via 5 ornamented portals. The 3 monumental arches at Sergiopolis [475–518], set over roads leading to tetraconch church, all follow this model. However, the simpler wall-arch seems to have asserted its popularity from 164  A  rch at Sufetula compared to Ammaedara: Duval and Baratte (1973) 91. Rome, Arch of Constantine and Arch of Septimius Severus: Wilson-Jones (2003) 124.

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Street Architecture in Late Antiquity Rome, Arch of Constantine

Rome, Arch of Valens and Valentian

Rome, Arch of Portugal

Sufetula

Ptolemais Thibilis

Thibilis

0

20m

figure b21a Monumental arches: comparative sections from Rome, Africa, and Aegyptus (Libya)

Forum of Theodosius

Thessalonica

Perge

Ephesus

0

20m

figure b21b Monumental arches, comparative sections from Constantinople and the Aegean: Thessalonica, Constantinople (Forum of Theodosius), Ephesus, and Perge

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figure b21c Sufetula, Arch of Diocletian

the later 5th c. onwards. At Caesarea Palestinae [546– 614] and Abu Mina [3 times within 475–619], simple wall arches of two columns, likely supporting arcades, can be noted. A wall-arch also seems to have been excavated near the site of the Milion in Constantinople, but cannot be closely dated, although its rebuilding in brick likely dates to 532–37. At Qalat Seman, a nonurban pilgrimage centre near Antioch [not included in the above totals], the entrance of the complex is marked by a thin, if architecturally-elaborate, wall-arch (fig. B21e). A simple wall arch also appears at the entrance to an extramural church compound shown on a mosaic at Gerasa of 531. This depicts the sanctuary site of Saints Cyrus and John at Canopus, near Alexandria. When built within a city, these structures represent a new style, of an arch set across a street that appears almost identical to the arcades of adjacent street porticoes, except in its width, as is clear at Abu Mina. Arches saw repairs spread over a slightly longer period but were still concentrated in the late 3rd to early 5th c., right across the empire, in a broader regional distribution (Map 6b). There are 5 cases from 4 sites in the West and 11 cases from 10 sites in the East. We have examples of repair attested from epigraphy at Cillium

[312–17], Mididi [293–94], Theveste [361 and perhaps again in 364–92], Vaga [296–301], Athens [408–10], Constantinople [twice, 323–532, 425], Ephesus [ca. 450], and Xanthos [364–75], and from archaeology for Ephesus [twice, 340–50, 410–36], Alabanda [250–614], Sagalassos [475–525], Bostra [undated after AD 200], Scythopolis [385–92, a propylon], and Ptolemais [395–408]. In this distribution, Africa is still prominent, but only makes up a quarter of the examples, while the rest of the West, including Rome, is absent. Probably, at Rome, there was little to be gained from repairing the arch of a former emperor, and when one did, it was worth recasting it as a ‘new’ arch, to celebrate new imperial victories. Indeed, we suspect this form of ‘renewal’ in the case of all ‘new’ examples from Rome, where we have some knowledge of their physical structure. This is indicated either by their spolia content (Arcus Novus, Arch of Portugal, Arch of Constantine) or in the absence of obvious reused materials (Valens and Valentinian), which suggests wholesale rebuilding. In Rome, there was perhaps too much political demand for new arches to allow older structures to be patched up: they were rather dismantled, so that highly-specific architectural elements (attic pieces, engaged columns, reliefs, voussoir facings etc.)

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Sergiopolis / Resafa Arch 2

Sergiopolis / Resafa Arch 3

0

Caesarea Palestinae

20m

figure b21d Late arch types: Anazarbos, Resafa-Sergiopolis arch no. 2, Resafa-Sergiopolis arch no. 3, Caesarea Palestinae

could be reused. This is not just a characteristic of the Arch of Constantine, but of all late honorific arches in the city. It is not true of tetrapyla in Rome, which seem to contain more new-cut elements. But these were more innovative monuments, which emperors likely sponsored themselves, without relying on the Senate and its resources.165 Arches were built at similar points within cities to those of earlier times. They were set at street interfaces, such as when leading onto a square—as at Mididi, Thubursicum Numidarum, Serdica, Constantinople (8 times), Corinth, and Argos—or when facing a junction, as at Xanthos; others were introduced to punctuate sections along the same street, as at Verulamium, Thibilis, Athens, Ephesus (Embolos), Tocra, and Ptolemais, where a triple arch is set within the width of the street, rather than including the porticoes, with its side portals arranged to serve them. The hollow arch at Anazarbos resolved at a great crossroads. The Arch of Valens and Valentinian in Rome decorated a bridge, as it may have done in earlier centuries, under a different dedication. Some were set outside / at the entrance to cities—as, for example, at Milan, Rome, Ad Maiores (twice), Sufetula, Thugga, Thubursicu Bure, Thibilis, Constantinople (twice), Perge, and ?Caesarea Palestinae. Others were set within well-known or developing processional routes, as at Rome (5 times), Athens, and Constantinople, or at the end of a colonnaded street leading out of the town centre, as at Thibilis, Ephesus, and Perge. An example from within a plaza is 165  Monumental arches: see appendices F7a to F7b.

hypothesised for the Forum Romanum but this is probably a misinterpretation of difficult remains. That at Antioch in Pisidia (a decorated arch, if not a triumphal arch) fronted a vault necessitated by the extension of the theatre, above and over the main street. The architectural context of many of the new African arches is unfortunately unknown, as at Leges Maiores, Aradi, Sufes, Theveste, Thubursicu Bure, Macomades (2), Ad Maiores, Municipium … lense (Henchir El-Abiod), and Henchir El Goussa. Finally, at Abu Mina, some wall-arches are actually set behind porticoes, making them invisible from the main streets into which they gave access, only ornamenting the lesser avenue which they headed. Like tetrakionia and tetrapyla, monumental arches form an important part of the new-built secular architecture of the period. Older arches were tolerated until the end of Antiquity, alongside their late antique equivalents. Away from Rome, they generally escaped spoliation, and were sometimes set as gates within city walls. This means that, despite being quite fragile monuments, a large number of earlier arches survived, both in the ‘dead’ cities of North Africa and in those of Asia Minor, and even within some urban centres which prospered in the Middle Ages. One might imagine that, in an empire obsessed with victory, the presence of older monuments could provide images and texts describing an ideal of imperial rule to meet the gaze of people passing through, which might have encouraged confidence in the strength of the Roman order. Unfortunately, texts do not tell us if this was the case. It is possible that some older arches were rededicated with plaster and paint that now escapes us, but this has never been detected,

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5m

figure b21e Qalat Seman, Syria. Arch at entrance to pilgrimage site

nor is it suggested by ancient texts. Within Rome, we do suspect two cases where rededication is likely, although it has not been proven beyond all doubt. Monumental arches in Rome and Africa have either single or triple passages (i.e. a high arch with two lesser pedestrian side-portals), supporting traditional attics. One dipylon, i.e. an arch with two equal portals, is known from Thibilis. Some use was made of projecting elements supported by columns, in evidence at Sufetula and Ptolemais, for which there are published elevations. For arches from the western side of the ‘Aegean group’ we know almost only ground plans, although parts of superstructures survive on the coast of Asia Minor. At Argos, we have a single portal arch, whilst Serdica and Xanthos both have dipyla. The arch at Athens was triple portalled. Those from Constantinople and others in the Aegean region are notably varied in their design, beginning with the odd case of the Arch of Galerius at Thessalonica, which finished up as an enormous three-bayed ‘octopylon’ arch on 6 piers, although it had originally been conceived as a tetrapylon. The arch at Athens had 4 square podia and some outsize columns, suggesting it might have followed the style of the Arch of Theodosius from the eastern capital, with 4 columns on each podium. At Ephesus, the Arch of Hercules was of a single portal, fronted by steps on the downhill side. As mentioned

above, the arch of Anazarbos was five-portalled, whilst those from Sergiopolis were four-portalled. The wall arches of Caesarea and Abu Mina kept to three portals, although these were simply three intercolumnar spaces with arcades, nothing more. Usually, two portals meant two equal passages, both broad enough for vehicles, and three portals meant one central wide passage and two narrow ‘pedestrian’ portals. The five-portalled arch of Anazarbos extended this principle by giving each sidewalk and portico a lesser arch to pass through. In contrast, the arches of Sergiopolis were four-portalled, with the two external passages wider than the two internal passages, or with near-complete irregularity caused by uneven pier spacing. There are a few examples of arches that are ornamented in one direction (Map 6d). At Perge, several ‘portals’ were built, for an arch stuck onto the exterior face of the city wall, but only one was an open passage: the aesthetic form of an arch here surpassed its function. This monument was conceived separately from the arch on the inner face of the fortification, which seems likely to have been earlier. However, the Arch of Portugal at Rome and Arch 2 at Sergiopolis were only ever decorated on one side. In both cases, they were ornamented on the face set towards incomers, at a triumphal entrance point and on a sanctuary boundary, respectively. One

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figure b21f Resafa-Sergiopolis, façade of north gate

might suspect here a subtle change of function, as the arch stopped being a processional monument and became a boundary marker. This interpretation is not easy to maintain for the arch in Rome, still set on a processional route. Perhaps economy was a motivation in this case. The Sergiopolis arch could be interpreted as reflecting a regional tradition of ornamenting only one side of a fortification gate, although such ornament is usually set on the inside. The wall arch at Qalat Seman equally has most ornament on the outside, not the inside, with projecting columns standing on buttresses. Thus, it does seem that some sort of change in the function of arches was occurring in the Near East, within the late 5th and 6th c. In some cases, the three-dimensionality of honorific arch was coming to be replaced by a more twodimensional passage marker. This had been partially anticipated, perhaps, by the trompe-l’oeil tricks of the mid-4th c. tetrapyla at Rome and Carnuntum, which only worked in one direction. The elevations of arches in the West contain little to distinguish them from those of the 1st–2nd c. AD. They continue to exhibit piers and attics of the same proportions, with projecting columns, niches for statues, and dedicatory panels. In Africa, in several cases, a late identification has been proposed on the basis only of ‘poor workmanship’, specifically in the sloppy cutting of mouldings. Examples with surviving inscriptions suggest that this dating is correct. If one could say anything about the arches of this region, it is that they fit almost

seamlessly into the African urban landscape, as it had developed since the Late Republic. In contrast, the arches in the Aegean are anything but predictable in their elevations. From Ephesus, there are two arches with exotic reliefs: Medusa on one and Hercules on another. The latter compete with Victories, over two storeys, the upper of which was large enough to have held a passage with arcaded windows. From Perge, the external arch of the city gate sports an entablature reminiscent of a façade nymphaeum, complete with sculpture; the internal face, looking towards the city, holds a Syrian-pediment of a different date, which resembles an interior portal of Diocletian’s palace at Split. Elsewhere, voussoir blocks (and / or impost blocks for thin arches) indicate vaulting and arcading. The arch at Anazarbos may have had a pediment set over its central portal, according to its reconstruction by the excavators, although the evidential basis of this is not yet clear. The arches of Constantinople have the most remarkable elevations of the ‘Aegean’ group. The arch of the Forum of Theodosius was triple-portalled, with treetrunk clubs for columns, held by giant hands, with Corinthian capitals. In the same city, there were also two super-sized marble-clad arches, the Golden Gates of Constantine and of Theodosius, set within the city walls built under each emperor. The latter, without its flanking towers, recalls the form of a traditional triumphal arch in its vault proportions, but lacks projecting columns or an attic, and introduces flat lintels within

80 the three portals. These Aegean styles seem extravagant and new but can be set within a wider region where arches and vaults were being explored by architects as experimental forms. Further east, there are indications that the new arches seen at ‘pilgrimage’ sites could be equally experimental. The wall-arch from Qalat Seman, built over the road leading into the sanctuary, is remarkable in its form (fig. B21d). It has both traditional and innovative aspects: sober Corinthian ornament, and two projecting columns, but with a very wide single arch, directly supported by extra columns where only a pier should be. The design of this arch is in fact repeated in the arches inside the dome of the church, which was built around St. Symeon’s column. At Abu Mina, the elevations of wall-arches set at major junctions are rather less impressive. The arches were composed simply of two columns (pedestal, column shaft, and capital) probably carrying arcades which are found widely across the site, suggested also by their flanking piers. At Caesarea Palestinae, the same type of arch had voussoirs, so confirming the arcading (fig. B21e). All there was here to distinguish an arch from a short portico was a slightly wider central intercolumnar space between two columns: a far cry from the Arch of Constantine. At this last site, the arch simply marked a boundary between two parts of a pedestrianised street, at a point where it was interrupted by steps. Three extant late imperial arches from Rome and Constantinople are very large, being the largest of all Antiquity, reaching heights of 21.78 m (for Cons­tantine, at Rome), 22.7 m (for ‘Theodosius’, at Constantinople), and ca. 20.34 m (for the Theodosian Golden Gate). These heights compare with arch heights of only 8.71 m and 8.78 m at Thibilis, ca. 9.54 m at Ephesus, ca. 10 m at Perge, ca. 12.2 m at Ptolemais, and ca. 13 m at Sufetula.166 The trend for large sizes may have been started at Nicomedia under Diocletian: it is worth noting that the same emperor’s baths at Rome were even bigger than those of Caracalla. Constantine’s Golden Gate, set within his own wall circuit, was similarly enormous. Although already seen in the Severan period, this tendency to build large monuments was a particular feature of imperial self-representation in the 4th to early 5th c. It is especially obvious in terms of honorific columns. Then, after a hiatus of 100 years or so, lasting from the early 5th to early 6th c., huge sizes are seen again, in the reign of Justinian, with his Great Church and great high column, a monument which his over-ambitious successor Justin II tried but failed to match. For later wall-arches in the East, we know that the arch at Qalat Seman is ca. 10.65 m high, but other structures do not survive in 166  Arch dimensions: see appendix F7a.

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their upper portions. We can at least know something of their comparative footprint. At Sergiopolis, the new arches define rectangular areas of 14.8 m by 5.8 m, ca. 15 m by 4.75 m, and ca. 15.5 m by 5.6 m, whereas the odd 5-portalled structure at Anazarbos covers a massive area of ca. 53.7 m by 10 m, although it spans not just the street but also shops which flank it on each side. This can be compared to footprints of 25.43 m by 7.4 m and ca. 36 m by 6.8 m for the Arches of Constantine and Theodosius. The architectural elements of arches used a variety of stone types, despite their structural forms being comparable across all these different regions. In Africa, local stone seems to have been almost universal, whereas at Rome a great variety of coloured marbles was available: the Arch of Valens and Valentinian had violet-granite columns, whilst the Arch of Constantine had columns of giallo antico and pavonazzetto. At Athens, columns of local blue marble were employed. In Cyrenaica, Ptolemais surprises, with grey spiral-fluted monoliths, although these were reused. The choice to decorate arches with pilasters, engaged columns, projecting columns, or projecting columns backed by pilasters shows a degree of variety, both within Africa and elsewhere. The most luxurious device, of a projecting column backed by a pilaster, is seen at Rome on the Arch of Constantine, at Sufetula, and at Perge (on the inner arch). Projecting columns without backing pilasters were used on the Arch of Portugal and perhaps on the Arch of Valens and Valentinian, although of the latter we have only fragments. Corinthian pilasters without columns are seen, at Ad Maiores (in two cases) and at Thibilis (in two cases), both fluted and unfluted. At Tocra, we find engaged columns, but nothing at all fronting an arch at Aradi / Bou Arada. At Sergiopolis, one arch has engaged columns in ashlar blocks, whereas another offers projecting monoliths. At Qalat Seman, the arch uses engaged columns, very small, set high up, over pilasters. The capitals for all these devices, whether columns, engaged columns, or pilasters, are almost universally Corinthian / composite, being spolia in Italy, or new-cut in Africa or the Near East, where they exhibit local style variants. The Arch of Constantine provides the most exotic materials, with capitals of Proconnesian or Lunensian marble. Anazarbos surprises, of course, with bull protomes for its pilaster capitals, whilst its impost blocks bear carefullycut crosses. Another innovation is the presence of pedestals a cuscino, on the late 4th c. Arch of Portugal, which otherwise first appear in late 5th c. art, although this detail comes from rough drawings. These details of decoration might seem banal, but the care taken to retain and develop conservative architectural forms, shows great commitment to this structure, especially in the West, as

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if victory was one element of the Roman past that noone could do without. The decoration of arches can be reconstructed in Africa, Italy, Constantinople, Asia Minor, and the Levant, but not in Britain or the Balkans, where preservation is poor. Many reliefs in Rome are reused. The Arcus Novus contained column plinths taken from an earlier (probably 3rd c.) monument decorated with two Victories, on the front, whilst the sides held new-cut reliefs of Castor and Pollux, scenes of defeated barbarians, and a soldier with a barbarian. The monument also reused reliefs (of Early Imperial date) depicting processions and sacrifices, and a small frieze showing the Banquet of the Vestals. The Arch of Constantine featured a cycle of reused friezes showing imperial ceremonies, re-cut to feature Constantine or his father. The Arch of Portugal’s friezes included reused Early Imperial friezes of Hadrian and Sabina, re-cut for a bearded late emperor, possibly Honorius, and flying Victories carrying a crown (of late workmanship). The Arch of Constantine also carried newly-cut friezes, which described Constantine’s victory and adventus into the city, and bore Victories carrying trophies. Its column plinths again sported Victories, alongside soldiers and prisoners. Eastern examples of sculpted reliefs on arches are confined to Ephesus, where one arch had a relief of a Medusa head and a second held winged Victories holding wreaths, displayed in the same flanking ‘angles’ as on the Arch of Constantine. But the Ephesian example also held carved pilasters, featuring Hercules, coming from the upper storey. Perhaps tree-trunk club columns, on the Arch of Theodosius in Constantinople made some similar reference to Hercules, not so far detected within the iconography of the Theodosian dynasty, from which time the Ephesian arches also seem to date. At Perge, the cassettes of the soffits of the entablature of the ‘inner arch’ are decorated with plants, animals, and human heads. The decoration of the external arch was mythological, although is best discussed under gates. This was the only arch not to feature victory or heroism in its relief decoration. The statues of the Arch of Constantine were of captives: the Dacian barbarians known from Trajan’s Forum. The Arch of Valens and Valentinian held statues of both Victories and emperors, in gilded bronze, alongside barbarian captives and trophies, whilst the arch which honoured Arcadius, Honorius, and Theodosius II carried larger than life-size statues of those emperors, alongside trophies. In Africa, Victories adorned an arch at Macomades. Statues of unknown subjects graced those at Sufetula, Thibilis, and Thubursicum Numidarum. At Constantinople, the Theodosian Golden Gate held an elephant quadriga transporting Theodosius II, alongside a Victory holding a wreath, whilst stone eagles were

81 set at the corners of the monument. The Constantinian Golden Gate may have featured a statue of Constantine. We can discount a statue of ‘Atalos’ reported by Theophanes. This might have referred to the severed head of Priscus Attalus (usurper against Honorius), which was perhaps displayed here for a short time. An arch at the Amastrianon, in the same city, held a statue of a Valentinian, though of which so-named emperor (I, II, or III) is not known. Another example of the use of statuary in the East comes from Xanthos, where statue bases for Valens and Valentinian I have been recovered from an arch. From this collection of reliefs and statuary, we might say that the overwhelming priority of figural decoration on arches was to show the symbols and ceremonies associated with military victory, and the person of the emperor. The Arch of Constantine takes both themes further than most, by presenting a full victory narrative of the emperor’s arrival in the capital, including his discharge of civil ceremonies. Only in the Aegean zone, including Constantinople, Ephesus, and Perge, is there a sense that something else was possible. Again, this dynamic region is different: heroic and mythological imagery is permitted, that went beyond the commemoration of victory, even if its symbols were still used. The major function of monumental arches was, as is clear from the decoration above, to celebrate victories, as it had been in earlier centuries, but now almost always in a civil war. As will be described in another chapter, the Arch of Constantine at Rome was set on the route of victory processions, whilst the Golden Gate at Constantinople was still understood to be the correct entrance for triumphs in the mid 6th c. In Rome, arches dedicated by the Senate or Senate and People of Rome relate to specific victories, as described by their inscriptions. The Arch of Constantine celebrates victory over a tyrant (Maxentius) and over factionalism. The Arch honouring Arcadius, Honorius, and Theodosius II was ‘an eternal memorial of their triumphs’ over the Goths, whilst a hypothetical arch of Honorius (for which we have an inscription) was erected after the crushing of a rebellion and the ‘return of Africa’ after the revolt of Gildo [398]. The Theodosian Golden Gate in Constantinople celebrated victory over a tyrant, written in gilded bronze letters, probably added secondarily, by Theodosius II in 425, who had defeated the usurper John. In some cases, we can imagine emperors processing under arches, as part of victory parades. Yet, in cities not visited by the emperor, we can suspect that arches never saw use in any triumph. Some provincial arches are dedicated for victories, following the example of those in Rome, but their inscriptions are unspecific as to which, if any, actual wars they might be concerned with. Thus, a fragmentary re-dedication of the arch at

82 Ptolemais (probably under Honorius and Arcadius in 395–408), is made to emperors who are described as victores and triumphatores by an unknown dedicant, whilst arches at the neighbouring communities of Thugga and Thubursicu Bure were dedicated to the victories of the Augusti and Caesars (implying the Tetrarchy) by the respective cities, in two identical texts, suggesting a response to a particular event, perhaps requested by a governor. Yet, even within the capitals, imperial messages on arches might not be exclusively triumphal. At Rome, the Arch of Portugal may have celebrated the deification of Galla, second wife of Theodosius I, if Liverani’s interpretation of the re-cut reliefs is correct. Constantine’s arch also had space for new-cut reliefs of Sol Invictus, admittedly on its flanks. In Constantinople, according to Eusebius, Constantine decorated the palace entrance (which could even then have been an arch) with an image, surmounted by a cross, of himself and his sons trampling a dragon (apparently representing the persecutors), who was pierced with a javelin. Julian is later known to have included religious references in his icons, making the reference plausible, even if it is prudent to remain sceptical of Eusebius’ reporting and interpretation of imperial art.167 The representation of an image of Christ on the Chalke Gate (a tetrapylon) is more controversial, appearing in the Parastaseis in the company of late 6th c. imperial statuary. It certainly existed from the 8th c., but it cannot be ruled out earlier, as some scholars have suggested. A similar icon of Christ is attested on a gate at Antioch, in the late 6th / 7th c. (see below), and another existed on the gate in the city wall leading in to the colonnaded streets at the Vatican in Rome, from the period 498–514.168 Imperial portraits were definitely displayed at city gates, as will be discussed shortly.

167  Religious imagery on palace entrance: Euseb. Vit. Const. 1.3.3; Julian’s painted images: Sozom. Hist. eccl. 5.17; Theod. Hist. eccl. 3.17.3. 168  Christ depicted above Chalke gate, Constantinople: by the early 8th c. when taken down by Leo III: Theophanes A.M. 6218 / (AD 725/26). Mango thinks it is possible that the image appeared on the gate by the 6th c., if a description within Parastaseis 5b is from ca. AD 600 (it contains images of Maurice and family, which would have been taken down by Phocas): Mango (1959) 102. Auzépy (1990) esp. 455 thinks (from a sceptical reading of the sources) that there was no such image until it was put there by Irene (inscription, likely of AD 797–802). A comparable image is visible on the Constantinopolitan adventus (perhaps AD 421, or another date in the 5th–6th c.) On the redating on the Trier Ivory, which shows a gate which might represent the Chalke, see: Holum and Vikan (1979) 125, now discussed by Brubaker (1999) and Niewöhner (2014), plus n. 108 above. For Antioch: see n. 178 and Rome see appendix E3.

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The Arcus Novus of 293–94 and the Arch of Con­ stantine of 312–15 were inscribed with vows ‘vota X, vota XX’ for 10 imperial years complete, and for 10 more. A celebration of twenty years, wishing for thirty, is recorded on an arch erected to celebrate the vicennalia of Diocletian and Maximian at Macomades in 303. Finally, a wreathed ‘Mu[lt]is XX[X]’ wish for thirty years on an arch built to honour Constantine, Licinius, and Galerius [so 311–13], from Ptolemais, might relate to an imperial anniversary of Constantine alone. In this last case, the inscription cannot be contemporary with the original dedication, suggesting that crowds returned to the arch, to celebrate imperial anniversaries. This might have occurred in connection with an adventus procession of imperial images, as described in the chapter on processions. Others inscriptions from African arches imply a different function than the celebration of any political occasion, victory or anniversary: they are simply dedicated to ‘the happy times of’ 4th c. emperors (Leges Maiores, Aradi, Theveste and for restorations at Mididi and Vaga) or to ‘the health of’ emperors (twice at Ad Maiores), or to emperors alone, without qualification (Macomades in Numidia, Antioch in Pisidia, and at Ptolemais, on the first (Constantinian) inscription).169 The dedicants recorded in these inscriptions are varied: a priest of the imperial cult at Leges Maiores, the city council at Mididi, a governor at Antioch, the cities of Libya Superior (i.e. the provincial council) at Ptolemais, whilst the arch of Macomades was paid for by evergetes, including a flamen. It is very likely that local desire for an urban ornament rather than imperial propaganda was behind the construction of many arches. This can be seen both in inscribed texts and in the position of some monuments. It is confirmed in a restoration at Cillium in 312–17, for an arch called ornamenta libertatis et vetera civitatis insignia. We can see arches being connected with wider urban building projects in a number of cases. Inscriptions inform us that at Thibilis, an arch was built along with porticoes, in 375–78, whereas at Mididi (Henchir Midid) an arch was restored alongside a portico in 312–17. These cases recall Cirta Constantina, where a tetrapylon had been built with porticoes in 362/63. Porticoes are also 169  Arch dedications, late 3rd to early 5th c. (see appendix F7 for references): to victories in battle: at Rome (to victories); at Thugga (to victories of the Augusti and Caesars of the Tetrarchy) and Thubursicu Bure / Thubursicum (Téboursouk) (repeating Thugga); at Constantinople; at Ptolemais (to victories and triumphs); to happy times: to ‘the happy times of’ at Mididi; at Henchir El Goussa: to ‘the health of emperors’; at Sufetula; at Antioch in Pisidia and probably the Constantinian inscription of Ptolemais to the emperors alone, without qualification; to the flamines: Macomades; Theveste; to emperors: Ad Maiores; Macomades.

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mentioned on the inscription of the theatre arch at Antioch in Pisidia [311–13], even if it is not certain that they were part of the street. At Constantinople, the Troadesian porticoes were undoubtedly connected to the adjacent Constantinian Golden Gate, to which they led, and a depiction of 1561 shows another colonnaded street leading to an arch, just east of Süleymaniye Mosque, within the Constantinian city, so likely dating sometime in 324–616. In most cases, we should expect that porticoes built at the same time as an arch either led to it or were structurally attached to it. At Rome, on the Arch of Gratian, Valentinian II, and Theodosius, an inscription, which lacks a dedicant, makes this explicit. There is no mention of a victory here. Rather, the text describes the arch’s architectural role as the terminus of Porticus Maximae, alongside the fact that the emperors paid for it. Thus, some arches were built as components of urban design, although not as frequently as tetrapyla and especially not as often as cross-halls. Nonetheless, the majority of arches continued to be added to cities in a less ‘coherent’ manner. At Sergiopolis, a very different function for arches is likely, around 100 years after the main tradition of triumphal arches had come to an end. Here, two arches (marked ‘A’ on fig. B6) are very badly set in terms of the aesthetics of urban articulation. The southern arch ornaments the junction of two minor streets, invisible from the main avenues, whilst the northern arch faces directly onto the fortification wall, providing no space to appreciate its structure. The positioning of these two arches seems only comprehensible in relation to the setting of the tetraconch church. Indeed, the northernmost arch appears to be set on a road surviving from the pre6th c. street grid. It seems likely that both arches served as an entrance to a part of the city associated with the tetraconch, acting as propylaea to mark a boundary, as at Qalat Seman, which is placed on the Via Sacra, as it crosses the edge of the complex. They were not positioned to resolve vistas at a junction, as arches were earlier. It is tempting to see these eastern pilgrimage sites as adopting the architectural form of the monumental arch as a triumphal portal for a new kind of crowned victor, the Christian martyr. However, in the absence of any related epigraphic texts or iconography from these structures, this interpretation is risky. No ancient literary source suggests it either. City Gates Related to arches, and having a similar impact on streets, were city gates. Some of these were monumental arches that were incorporated into fortifications, such as the Porta Maggiore of Claudius at Rome, or the Golden Gate

83 at Thessalonica.170 A few were probably planned from the start as triumphal gateways within fortifications, as for example, the Golden Gate at Constantinople.171 We have of course alluded to this habit in the triumphal arch at Perge, where two faces of a monumental arch were clad secondarily onto both sides of the Late Roman city gate, at different times. At Apamea, a façade composed of a single high arch with flanking niches (likely for statues), decorated by consoles, was stuck onto the inside face of a gate, sometime in 459–514. This style reflected a Levantine preference for gates presented as arches, still alive at this time. At Abu Mina, sometime in ca. 594–619, the triple-portalled north gate was given a rear façade of a portico of columns, symmetrically arranged to emphasise the central passage. Such elaborate rear façades are known from gates in the Early Imperial Levant, as at Gadara and Gerasa. An impression of their form of such structures can be gained from an external gate façade of Sergiopolis [475–518].172 To a certain extent, late city gates reinforced the tradition of those monumental arches, set outside or on the edge of town, which symbolically enhanced the entrance into a city for a visitor. Yet, the vast majority of gates in Late Roman walls had no relationship, architectural or historic, to such monuments. Gates, even more than arches, were able to compel traffic to pass through a specific point suited to artistic representation. Thus, it is unsurprising to find them being decorated for the reception of those entering or leaving a city. The opportunity to impress afforded by fortification gates was clearly understood in the main imperial capitals. At Rome, at least three gates in the first phase of the Aurelian Wall were double portalled, flanked by semi-circular towers. Honorius added towers to some gates which lacked them and increased the 170  Arches incorporated into fortifications: e.g. at Rome, Porta Maggiore: Coates-Stephens (2010) 79–103, with 101 confirming that the internal face of the arch was largely unaltered, whereas the external face was covered with towers under Aurelian and other new gate structures 82–83 with fig. 67 and 89–95 on the Honorian towers which largely obscured the external face of the arch; at Thessalonica: http://wikimapia.org/1471963/ Democracy-Square-Vardari#/photo/324490 (last accessed December 2013). 171   Gates planned as triumphal gateways: Constantinople, Golden Gate of Constantine, and of Theodosius I: see appendix F7a, with discussion on the latter gate by Bardill (1999) 673–81 who considers the sequence of fortifications, which seem to be secondary here to the arch, though perhaps not by many years. 172  Arches stuck on gates, at Perge: see appendix F7a; at Apamea: see appendix F8b. Rear-façades on gates in the Early Imperial Levant: Segal (1997) 9–101, with references. See dating for Sergiopolis in appendix B7.

84 height of other towers by a storey. He also added wellcut reused travertine blocks to the square bases of the gate towers, producing a form similar to the Theodosian Golden Gate at Constantinople. Honorian dedicatory inscriptions have survived from the gates of Rome in three cases.173 The late entrances of the eastern capital are less well-documented, but the Theodosian Golden Gate, appropriately, is the largest in size. Its golden doors must have given an impressive sheen. Their gilded leaves had a parallel at Antioch, in the Daphnetic Gate. Both had been gilded by Theodosius II. Yet, in neither city were the doors themselves especially famous, nor are they represented in stylised artistic depictions of either place on any map.174 We hear of statues being displayed on city gates, at Rome, where those of Honorius and Arcadius adorned the Porta Portuensis, Porta Praenestina / Labicana, and the Porta Tiburtina [401–402]. This practice is not known elsewhere in the West and was perhaps adopted from the eastern capital: at Constantinople, statues adorned the Constantinian and Theodosian Golden Gates, as has been discussed above. The habit was welldeveloped in the adjacent Aegean region, as it was in the northern Balkans. At Aphrodisias, a governor who built the city wall was honoured, with a statue in a niche set over the lintel of a gate [365–70]. At Assos, close to Troy, a reused altar was found by the gate, with a dedication for Valentinian II, Theodosius I, and Arcadius, Augusti [383–92], likely relating to a statue monument. At Thracian Philippopolis, the general Basiliscus (later briefly emperor) was honoured with a statue over the east gate, after having saved the city [471–74]. At Thessalonica, a statue of a certain Basilius was set over the eastern gate (probably Basilides, Praetorian Prefect for Illyricum ca. A.D. 529–36, unless it was again Basiliscus). Two niches for statuary are also known flanking the gate at the Galerian palace of Romuliana. Away from the Aegean/Balkan area, there may be a different tradition involving the display of de-sacralised works 173  Gates of Rome: see recent synthesis of structural evidence, with references by Dey (2011) 12–70. The dating of the gates is based on the existence of two extensive and coherent structural phases across all parts of the walls, which must pre-date the inscriptions of Honorius (p. 45 (CIL 6.1188, 1189, 1190)). The first phase is dated on historical texts and structures it cuts or which are built onto it (pp. 41–42). The second phase, which includes the dating of the gate, is dated from comparanda of dated 5th c. buildings, decoration which includes crosses plus texts recording Honorian work (pp. 43–48). Intermediate phases have been identified in brick and opus vittatum, in some cases comparable to dated buildings of Maxentius (p. 46). 174  Gilding of city gates at Constantinople and Antioch: Malalas 13.14.

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of art (as complete statues not as reliefs or statue fragments). At Perge, greater-than-life-sized mythological statues decorated the honorific arch that was clad onto the southern gate, on its outer face: 5 females (?, Artemis and Nemesis, 1 twin female statue) and 1 male (possibly Asclepius), of 1.8 m average height. At Antioch, it is also possible that a gate ornamented with bronze cherubs was decorated in the 4th c. or early 5th c.: C. Saliou has demonstrated in a recent article that it is unlikely to have been done by Vespasian, as Malalas thought. The decoration, which has possible Christian associations, is not attested before the 6th c., but should date to a time before the wall, that it was part of, fell out of use, which happened under Theodosius II.175 Frieze fragments and reused pieces of sculpture were also employed on gates, especially in the Aegean region. A frieze of reused trigliphs and metopes decorated the Beule Gate to the acropolis at Athens [325–50]. At Sagalassos, we find a weaponry frieze and trigliphs above the north-west gate [383–408], with spolia set on the outer wall-face, concentrated around the portal. The gate itself was decorated with reused frieze fragments featuring Ares and Athena, with an eagle, facing outwards, above the lintel. At Aphrodisias, the west gate [355–60] featured reused reliefs with sculptures of flying Victories and a rampant lion (exterior face), flying Victories, and bull and lion heads (interior face). The south-east gate [360–70] displayed elements from a single tomb on the inner face of the walls just south of the gate opening. They include sphinxes, a baby Hercules, a gorgoneion, a satyr head, and assorted flowers, although it is far from clear that they were intended to decorate the gate, or if they were just ornamenting the wall itself. At Side, a weaponry frieze was possibly used on the main north gate, although its dating and reuse-context is not certain.176 This decorative scheme, as seen also at Athens and Sagalassos, continued a well-established regional style: weaponry friezes are known from Hellenistic gates in Asia Minor, still visible throughout the period.177 Icons of emperors or other ‘rulers of the city’ are attested hung above city gates, in the last years of the 6th and early 7th c.: both at Constantinople and in the provinces. An image of Phocas was kept above the gate of an Egyptian city; a terrifying icon of Christ decorated the Gate of the Cherubs at Antioch, whilst images of the Theotokos are attested on fortification gates at Constantinople. Another image of Christ was visible on 175  Statues on gates: see appendix G1. 176  Gates decorated with friezes (reused) and other reused ornament, selected examples: see appendix G3. 177  Friezes of weaponry in Hellenistic Asia Minor: McNicoll (1997) 129. Rear-façades on gates in the Early Imperial Levant: Segal (1997) 9–101, with references.

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the gate through the city wall into the Vatican, at Rome, probably as early as 498–514.178 Images of the emperor obviously facilitated political display, but it is possible that, as earlier, symbols on gates served apotropaic purposes.179 Chi-Rho monograms or crosses might decorate lintels, likely performing this function.180 Building inscriptions might also be set on lintels over gates, as at Constantinople (Gate of Rhesisus, recording work by Prefect Constantine, undated), Aphrodisias [365–70 for construction, 460–614 for restoration], Miletus [538], Thubursicu Bure [565–89], and Carthago Nova in Hispania [589–90]. It is interesting to see that this was mainly a 6th c. practice, even if early examples can be noted. Such inscriptions might also be written on the voussoirs of arches, as on the Theodosian Golden Gate in Constantinople [425]. In at least two cases, the text was written on the inside face of an arch, so arguably for the inhabitants, rather than to impress visitors.181 Finally, we can note that the Golden Gate has acclamations in Latin for military units, dating to shortly after 425, foreshadowing later acclamations on city gates, which are discussed in the processions chapter, that likely relate to adventus ceremonies taking place here. Despite this evidence, the decoration of city gates was in most cases far more modest; a great number of Late Roman portals were distinguished by perhaps just two framing bastions.182 Gates such as the 4th c. Porta Savoia in Susa, with 4 levels of windows above the entrance, were very much the exception. In comparative perspective, Late Roman gates were not as impressive as the Hellenistic exemplars seen at Philippi, Perge, or Side, with their forecourts and winged entrances, or the Republican / Early Imperial multi-storey gates of cities in the West, seen at Spello, Turin, Autun, and Trier. These imposing structures were still visible and still used. Late antique gates were also more modest than the gates of 178  Gates with imperial images and icons: ‘Nakius’ in Egypt (under Phocas); John of Nikiu Chronicle 107.39; Antioch, icon of Christ at gate of Cherubs in later 6th / early 7th c.: Joh. Moschus (ed. Nissen, (1938) 367 no. 12) ἐν τῷ Χερουβὶμ οὕτω καλουμένῳ τόπῳ […] ἐν ᾧ τόπῳ λέγουσιν οἱ εἰδότες εἰκόνα ἵστασθαι φοβερωτάτην τὸ ἐκτύπωμα τοῦ σωτῆρος ἡμῶν Χριστοῦ ἔχουσαν; Saliou (2013) 129; Constantinople, Icon of Mary as ‘ruler of the city’ on Golden Gate AD 626: Theodore Synkellos 106 [304] (not seen); Rome (Vatican), see appendix E3. Constantine’s image above gateways: Euseb. Vit. Const. 4.15. 179  On the apotropaic function of images on gates and doors see: Faraone (1992) 4 and 8 (not seen); Karivieri (2010) 404. On the apotropaic uses of political statuary in Late Antiquity, see Lavan (2011b) 439–77. 180   Chi-rhos and crosses: see east gate of Side (outside face) and north-east gate of Aphrodisias (inside face), below. 181  Building inscriptions on gate lintels: see appendix G2. 182  Simple treatment of gates, with flanking bastions etc.: Johnson (1983) 44–50.

85 Late Medieval European cities, or those of the Baroque period. Therefore, we cannot argue that they did much more than continue earlier representational styles for this type of monument. Asia Minor is again the one region exhibiting architectural innovation, with the use of relief sculpture in portals. The gate façades of the Near East are also striking. But few of these displays would have impressed the adventurous builders of the past. Only in imperial capitals did the level of representative investment in gates stand comparison with that seen in earlier times.183 Honorific Columns Honorific columns, known by the term columna or κιόνιον in the ancient sources, became one of the most characteristic monuments of imperial capitals. Almost all urban examples of secure late date (fig. B22a), were erected within plazas rather than within streets. Of these, the Augusteion was by far the most popular location in Constantinople, used on 4 occasions, whilst in the Forum at Rome, a single column was built / re-built 3 times. The same plaza hosted 17 other late columns, arranged in 3 rows, of which at least 10 honoured the Tetrarchs. Other plazas, in the eastern capital, Antioch, and elsewhere, held only a single column. We know of only 3 columns that were set within streets: 2 of these were from Constantinople (for Verina, wife of Leo, on the Upper Mese, and for Julian in the ‘Constantinian porticoes’); 1 was from Perge. But in none of these examples have we reason to believe the monuments involved a massive column. In Julian’s case the monument is suspect, as it was allegedly dedicated by an unknown pagan general and is only attested in the 8th c. Parastaseis. The column from Perge is set within the western portico of a colonnaded street, which had lost its roof. This was very close to a major street junction but did not seek to use it axially. Rather, it was a monument set locally within the street, just as the vast majority of late honorific columns were monuments set locally within plazas. We need not see the Column of Theodosius II set within the ‘Sigma’ at Constantinople as breaking this pattern. Sigma plazas were frequently separated from the street which they faced onto by a portico. Therefore, there is no reason to assume that a column erected within a sigma played any monumental role beyond its plaza. In spite of this, we do need to consider claims by scholars about the wider role of honorific columns within urban avenues, which sets them alongside other forms of street ornament. It has been suggested that they were 183  Hellenistic gates, e.g. Philippi, Perge, Side: Roger (1938) 31–35; McNicoll (1997) 153–55, with 154 fig. 35. Republican / Early Imperial gates, multi-storey: e.g. Trier: Cüppers (1980).

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50m

25m

0m Theodosius & Arcadius

Justinian

Constantine

Diocletian, Alexandria

Phocas, Rome

Goth’s ‘Julian’ Marcian Cple Ankara Cple

Hermopolis Antinoe Luxor Ephesus, Arae Magna Philaenorum Tetrastylon

figure b22a Honorific columns: comparative sections (with columns of tetrastyla of early and late imperial date): Theodosius & Arcadius, Justinian, Constantine, Diocletian (Alexandria), ‘Julian’ (Ankara), Phocas (Rome), Goth’s, Hermopolis Magna, Antinoe, Luxor, Ara Philaenorum and Ephesus (Tetrastylon). In Constantinople where location not stated

sometimes set to be visible along the sight-lines of major streets, as at Rome, where the Column of Phocas (fig. B22b), can be seen coming into the Forum Romanum from a major street leading into the plaza from the Subura. In doing so, the monument reuses an earlier honorific column, probably of the time of Claudius Gothicus or Aurelian.184 However, at Constantinople, the columns of Constantine and of Phocas, on the Mese, were both set slightly back from the great avenue which they adorned, within their own plazas, rather than taking up the obvious axial setting which this road offered. It is important to realise that the centre-line of the Mese passed in front of the Column of Constantine, not through it, a detail which has been incorrectly drawn on many rough maps of the city. This is the clear conclusion of measurements taken from the plans of Mamboury and Müller-Wiener. Indeed, the Column of Constantine was not even aligned parallel with the line of the Mese but was rather placed at a slight angle. This gave one a feeling of ‘coming across’ the monument, as experienced today when walking down the same street. Columns do exist that are set within colonnaded streets or aligned to face down them, but they are not demonstrably late antique. Rather, the example set, by the mid-3rd c. column of ‘Phocas’, which faced down the Argiletum, was not followed in the 4th–6th c., as far as we can tell. Easy opportunities to realise a comparable alignments were missed by late antique architects, even in Constantinople. Here, in the cases we can study, the 184  Alignment of columns: Rome, Column of Phocas alignment: Bauer (1996) 364–65. Constantinople and elsewhere: 363–73.

only monumental setting used for honorific columns was the plaza into which they were built. Easy ‘sightlines’ along major avenues were ignored. Even at Abu Mina, where an axial relationship was possible, between the main urban avenue and the ‘honorific column’ of the ‘agora’, no attempt was made. Rather, a fountain was set within the square to face down the street. In contrast, the honorific column of the same plaza was just set at the centre of the square, a point which was not visible when looking down the main avenue into the plaza. This is significant as one finds examples of axial alignment for monuments elsewhere. An obelisk carrying a Chi-Rho or equivalent sign [379–407, replaced by a cross in 407–19] was set at the divergence of two major avenues at the Philadelphion of the eastern capital. A small pillar monument, perhaps also carrying a cross, was erected at Sergiopolis [sometime in 518–700] to face down an avenue to the eastern gate. Thus, any notion that honorific columns contributed to a Baroque street aesthetic within Late Antiquity needs to be questioned. Nonetheless, it still makes sense to consider the form here, alongside other street ornaments, and not under fora / agorai, as it was closely related to them in style and function. The distribution of building work on honorific columns set in public space (Map 7a–7b) is as follows: 1 new column and 2 repairs are known in the West, from 1 site, and 25 new columns and 6 repairs / rededications are known in the East, from 10 sites. Works are heavily concentrated in imperial capitals / residences. Examples are known at Rome [built 250–395, rebuilt 312–395, rebuilt 608], Ankara [built 268–614, repaired

Street Architecture in Late Antiquity

figure b22b Honorific column supporting a statue of the emperor Phocas, Forum Romanum. A columnar monument with three phases, probably initially dedicated to the Genius of the Roman People by Aurelian [270–75], a dedication forgotten or removed sometime in the later 4th c. It was rededicated to Phocas in 608. The steps recall those set around the columns of Constantine and Justinian in Constantinople. They relate to the final phase, but replaced an earlier pyramid of steps, which was not part of the original monument.

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88 within the same period], Antioch [built 372–78], and especially Constantinople, where at least 16 were located within the city, one of which was rededicated twice and two of which were rededicated once. These honoured Constantine [324–37], Constantine [324–30], Helena [328 rededicated to Theodosius I 390], ?Julian [355–63], Theodosius I [394 rededicated to Anastasius 505–506], Aelia Eudoxia [403], Arcadius / Theodosius II [421], Theodosius II [443–50], Marcian [450–52], Leo [457–74], Verina [457–74], Returning Fortune [250–575], Justinian [543–44], Theodora by Arcadian Baths [527– 65], Justin II [578] (replacing Theodosius I), and Phocas [609]. Another is known from Athens [421–50], likely to honour the empress Aelia Eudocia (Athenais) in her hometown. Late examples without a known dedicant come from Perge [400–614], Side [250–614], Laodicea [494–610], Selge [250–614], Scythopolis [500–535], and Abu Mina [475–532]. At these sites, with the exception of Perge, foundations suitable for a column have been recovered from the centre of agorai. Finally, a column was rededicated at Oxyrhynchus to Phocas [602–10]. I have discounted examples known from outside cities, inside temples, or where the columns were little bigger than honorific statue bases. From their chronological spread, we can see honorific columns as the continuation of the 2nd and 3rd c. tradition, of columns which honoured emperors. Diocletian clearly appreciated them, given his great column within the Serapeion at Alexandria, and that outside Nicomedia, but he seems to have preferred to be depicted on columns alongside his colleagues, as has been discussed under tetrakionia / tetrastyla. Indeed, even the Serapeion column has been reinterpreted as being 1 of a group of 4. For this reason, I will not directly consider the Tetrarchic honorific columns of the rostra buildings in the Forum Romanum, nor the seven-column group which followed on the same plaza [306–37]. The habit of erecting sole honorific columns was distinct from this, and endured much longer, up to the early 7th c., indeed about fifty years after the time when arches and other related monuments had all ceased to be built. There were, however, significant pauses in the tradition. Constantine erected a column to himself and another to his mother, but the rest of his dynasty did not follow his lead. They did not erect columns, just as they had abstained from building triumphal arches. Julian had a column of some kind in his harbour at Constantinople, recorded by Malalas 18.82. Then Valens, Theodosius I, Arcadius, Theodosius II, Marcian, and Leo erected them, but Zeno and Justin I did not. After Justinian, Tiberius, and Maurice also restrained themselves, perhaps because Justin II failed to complete his. Heraclius did not revive the tradition after Phocas embraced it at Rome,

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Constantinople, and Oxyrhynchus. Rather, he set a cross on the latter’s column by the Church of Forty Martyrs. Columns erected beyond streets and squares (within palaces, usually extramural, or in unknown locations) do not break this chronological pattern: we have a column of Theodosius II and one of Justinian erected at the Hebdomon parade ground / palace and one of Justin II at the Deuteron palace, both outside of the eastern capital. Further columns of Justin II’s family could be found at the harbour of Sophia (size unknown), where a column of Julian had once stood. Another for Phocas is known from behind the Magnaura, inside the Great Palace. These examples (not included in the above totals) reinforce the existing chronological spread found in streets and squares.185 The size of the major Constantinopolitan columns sets them apart from others (see fig. B22). Their heights can be reconstructed based on observations made by antiquarians and modern scholars. I have also calculated some measurements myself, working from photos of columns or their fragments, and, in the case of Justinian’s column, from rough drawings, details of which are described in the appendices. The monuments that we can reconstruct fall into three size groups, measuring from the ground to the top of the capital. The first measures from 46 m to 26 m, for which triple life-size statues can be confirmed or seem to fit. The second group is between 25.9 m and 16 m, for which double life-size statues seem to fit. The third group is of less than 15.9 m, for which life-size statues would have been most appropriate. When the measurements for life-size or double or triple life-size statue are included (for large, intermediate and small columns respectively) the estimated sizes are as follows (with / without statues). The smallest group includes Athens (ca. 11.52 m / 13.27 m with statue) and Ankara (ca. 15.35 m / 17.1 m). The medium group contains: the Column of Phocas at Rome (22.49 m / 25.99 m), the Goth’s column (16 m / 19.5 m) and that of Marcian (17 m / 18.75 m), both at Constantinople. The larger group, all in the eastern capital, contains the columns of Leo (26.35 m / 31.46 m, statue height known), Constantine (ca. 35.4 m / 40.65 m), Justinian (36.18 m / 41.51 m, column height from G. Buondelmonte in 1420, statue height known), Theodosius and Arcadius (47.61 m / 52.86 m). This puts the columns of Constantine and Justinian in the same league as that of Marcus Aurelius (39.72 m / 44.97 m if with a thrice life-size statue), and a little larger than that of Diocletian in Alexandria (ca. 26.56 m / 33.56 m, statue height known). But the columns of Theodosius 185  Honorific columns: see appendices F9–F11, and discussion of Upper and Lower Mese at Constantinople under C2 and C3.

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and Arcadius were in a super-class of their own, larger than both the columns of Marcus and of Trajan in Rome, which they imitated (35.07 m / 40.32 m). Justin II’s outsize column, with an internal staircase, was probably comparable to those of Theodosius and Arcadius, which had the same feature, although John of Antioch calls it a pharos (transcribed from Greek into Syriac). Given the height of such imperial columns, one must remember that they would have been especially visible from the sea. This is confirmed by their prominence on depictions of the city from the Later Middle Ages and Early Modern period. We can also note the respective ground footprints produced by the pyramids of steps around columns in Rome and Constantinople. That of Phocas in Rome measured 14.8 m by 14.8 m (13.9 m by 13.9 m in its first phase), whilst that of Constantine measured 12.4 m by 12.4 m. The foundation of the Column of ?Eudocia in Athens, which might have supported such steps, measured 4.1–4.2 m by 4.15–4.25 m, whilst the footprint of the Column of the Goths in Constantinople measured ca. 4.2 m by 4.2 m, Selge 3.79 m by 3.1 m, and Scythopolis 6 m by 6 m. From these comparisons, we can see that the pyramid of the column of Phocas was out of proportion to the overall monument height, as indeed it appears to the viewer. A pyramid of steps was provided around the columns of Constantine, Justinian, and Phocas (in Rome). In each case these steps were cut from white marble. The first two both had 7 steps each, the latter probably a few more (not all are extant). The step pyramid around Justinian’s column might well have been inherited from the column of Helena, which stood here. This is probable, given other similarities between her column and that of her son, Constantine: both were in porphyry and both were set in a plaza at either end of the Lower Mese. Therefore, it is not certain that Justinian created the steps as a conscious attempt to imitate his illustrious predecessor; they may already have been here from the time of Helena. Other aspects of Justinian’s monument were quite different, such as the use of an equestrian statue, and of bronze sheeting over a masonry column. The marble step pyramid set around Phocas’ column in Rome is more likely to have been planned to consciously imitate these earlier emperors, as it replaced an earlier set of stairs, of more modest dimensions. The Column of the Goths and those of Marcian and Arcadius had three steps each, as far as we know. Mamboury and Mango’s theory of a platform around the Column of Constantine, at the top of the pyramid of steps, should be discounted. It was definitely not part of the original design and may never have existed: no platform was recorded archaeologically when the site was excavated, nor was it observed by Pierre Gilles in the 16th c. Whatever the ceremonial

89 use of the column in the Middle Byzantine period, there is no evidence for it having had a platform or being used as a tribunal within Late Antiquity. L-shaped holes at the corner of the step-pyramid might have supported statue bases or stone bollards, as they did in Rome. The potential existence of corner bases makes it possible that the column was once surrounded by statues of Constantine’s sons, which are placed in this forum in Parastaseis 16 / Patria 2.18, including Crispus [executed 326], whose statue could have been removed before the dedication in 328. Porphyry was used for the shaft of 4 of the columns: those of Constantine, of Helena, of Aelia Eudocia (in the Augusteion), and of Theodora (by the Arcadian Baths). This stone, which obviously evoked imperial control of the use of purple dye in public ceremony, was mainly employed in the 4th to early 5th c., when porphyry was still being quarried; the column of Theodora was doubtless reused. The Column of Leo closely imitated the style of that of Constantine, with its wreathed column drums, but was, like other 5th c. columns, made out of Proconnesian marble, as were the Columns of the Goths in the same city and of Phocas in Rome. Two columns were granite monoliths: the Column of Theodosius II at the Hebdomon, and of Marcian in his forum. That of Theodosius II was in ‘blue’ granite, perhaps Troadesian, whilst that of Marcian was of Egyptian red granite, which had also made up the Column of Diocletian at Alexandria, along with its socle. Both Troadesian and Egyptian granite might recall imperial purple, if in a less direct way than porphyry. Justinian’s column shaft was a composite brick and stone construction, on a marble base, with bronze cladding around the shaft, featuring wreaths, the last detail recalling the columns of Constantine and Leo. It is worth pointing out the sizes of the columns used, as they do not always directly relate to the total size of monuments: the column of Phocas’ monument only measured ca. 11.5 m, whereas the adjacent 7 Constantinian honorific columns each contained monoliths estimated at 13 m. Phocas’ column did not, therefore, dominate the forum in elevation as much as it does in plan. Other smaller columns used include that from Athens, at 5.58 m, or that estimated for Eudocia at Constantinople at 8 m, and the monolith of Marcian’s at 8.7 m. The Goth’s column used a monolith of 9.75 m.186 Drums of massive ashlar construction permitted internal staircases to be set within columns, for the monuments of Arcadius and Theodosius I, and also allowed external friezes to be carved. Admittedly, the column 186  Note on the comparative illustration that the only other late example which can be compared to the larger columns, is that of Diocletian from Alexandria (set in a temple temenos).

90 from Ankara is composed of drums, although it lacks an internal staircase or friezes. It is worth bearing in mind, however, that such staircases are only attested for the biggest columns; it was probably impossible for late antique architects to produce an internal staircase within columns of other sizes. The smallest column in drums was that of Leo, which reached 15 m. Constantine’s drums rose to a total height of 23.01 m, whereas those of Arcadius / Theodosius I rose to a massive 30.38 m, including the column base. The Column of the Goths and that of Phocas in Rome can be set apart, on account of their construction in mismatched spolia, which seems also to have been a feature of Phocas’ column by the Church of the Forty Martyrs, as described in texts. The latter might also have been a segmental construction. On the Column of the Goths, no effort was made to make the reused elements match. This is perhaps appropriate, given that it is the only column in Constantinople not to have carried a close member of the imperial family, at least in its second phase, when it held the Tyche of the City. The friezes on the columns of Theodosius and Arcadius depicted military campaigns and related imperial ceremonies, some occurring within the city, on which I need not provide details here. The socles of honorific columns were ornamented with sculpted Victories and wreaths. Constantine’s socle sported Victories bearing spoils, flanking a wreathed portrait of the emperor with radiate crown, accompanied by (?) barbarians bringing gifts. Arcadius’ socle held Victories carrying wreathed crosses / panels with crosses. These were set above Augusti with soldiers and / or officials, above soldiers / officials / senators paying tribute, above captured weapons. Marcian’s socle was highly complex. The north side bore two winged Victories raising a laurel wreath, enclosing the dedicatory inscription; the east side bore a wreath encircling I and X, for the Greek initials of Jesus Christ, which seems also to have been displayed on the west side. The capital of the same column was festooned by eagles. The capital of Leo’s column featured basic human faces at the top centre of each side, whilst the wreaths around its column drums included a Chi-Rho. Whilst Christianity is obviously present, the military character of these 4th to mid-5th c. monuments is inescapable from the relief decoration: winged Victories were here the companions of emperors, and spoils, captives and soldiers constituted appropriate decoration. Allusions to Christianity were used to bless this imagery, to give it divine sanction, but not to change the core message of the monument in any substantial way, which was about success in war. Relief decorations were usually carved directly into the ashlar blocks of the columns or socles, of high-quality material such as marble. Justinian’s column is the only one in Constantinople known to

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have had marble revetment, decorated with engaged columns and arcaded niches. The seven Constantinian columns of the Roman Forum show traces of revetment in three cases, although here the surface treatment is unknown. The way in which statues were attached to their monuments can be documented in a few cases. Corinthian capitals were always employed, wherever they survive, except at Ankara. Here the capital is a calathus decorated with large acanthus leaf on each of the 4 corners. It has an elaborate abacus plate, with a tondo on each side. These which bear dowel holes, filled with lead, suggesting that a cross or anchor (the symbol of Ankara) was attached. The columns of Marcian, Leo, and Justinian all had an upper capital or impost block above the main capital, then a further statue base. The Constantinian columns of the Roman Forum had at least one crowning block above their capitals. In contrast, the Column of Arcadius closely copied Trajan’s in its upper portions: it had a round turret, through which the stairway exited, onto which the statue was placed. Imperial statues standing on top of honorific columns clasped a variety of royal symbols. Constantine’s statue held a globe and a spear, Leo’s a lance or cross (if we accept the statue was the Barletta Colossus), Justinian’s held just a globe surmounted by a cross. It is tempting to see Justinian’s lack of arms as reflecting the transition from the emperor as military commander to stay-at-home administrator. Yet, this inference should be resisted, as Constantine’s statue was naked. Furthermore, those of Leo and Justinian were in plate armour, the latter with his helmet surmounted by a peacock plume. Most statues on columns were of bronze, as were those for Constantine, Anastasius, and Justinian, or of Phocas in Rome. The latter was gilded, as were others, probably. That of Theodosius I in the Augusteion was of silver, as was that of Eudocia in the same square, as had been a statue of Claudius Gothicus set on a column in the Forum Romanum, according to the Historia Augusta. Porphyry statues were doubtless hard to come by, although Diocletian had been given one for his column in Alexandria. It is unlikely that other marbles were used for any statue of this kind. Some of these statues may have been cloaked. Socrates tells us that the statue of the empress Eudocia in the Augusteion was covered by a long robe, a detail which he probably observed as a contemporary resident of Constantinople. We encounter this in the case of other imperial statues, in Late Antiquity as earlier. Thus, at Laodicea in Syria, we see the usurper Eugenius under Diocletian (AD 303), taking a purple robe from a statue which had been draped in it, on proclaiming himself emperor. This cloak need not have come from an imperial statue in public space: the late 4th c. Historia Augusta

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notes that Probus was given a purple robe from a statue in a temple on his proclamation in 276. The usurper Saturninus, who rebelled against him in 280, also took a purple robe from a statue of Venus. The habit, by which cult statues wore clothing, was well-established in Archaic and Classical Greece. Thus, perhaps Eudocia permitted customs normally seen in sanctuaries to honour her statue, which understandably upset John Chrysostom, as bishop of the adjacent church. Honours, including dances and mimes, were given at this column, as part of its inauguration. These were regarded as customary for the erection of imperial statues by Sozomen. It is possible that other imperial statues on columns might have been robed as part of these ceremonies, even if there is no further evidence, only that for Eudocia, to support the idea.187 I have written previously about the function of imperial statues, and so will not dwell on that here. Suffice to say that the traditional conception of the emperor’s statue, as being equivalent to his person, like a pagan cult image, survived unscathed, if not uncriticised, throughout all of the period. The understanding of ‘image as emperor’ was used to provide a powerful object, to support and bind government business, most notably in the law court. The concept held good in the time of Justin I as much as it did under Constantine. Only slowly, from the time of Justinian, was the imperial image supplanted by the Bible, as a doom-laden political object in such settings. Whilst one can relate generic comments on the function of imperial statues to those set on columns, it is not easy to distinguish particular roles for them, which ground-level statues could not have. We hear of petitions being attached to the base of the Column of Leo, for consideration by the emperor. There is also the testimony of Philostorgius about honours of incense, lights, and even sacrifices, offered at the Column of Constantine, around a century after the emperor’s death. But it is unwise to suggest that Middle Byzantine court ceremonies, which were held at that monument, represent any sort of continuation of late antique practice, even if ceremonies for the inauguration of the city, in 330, certainly took place at this spot.188 187  Statues with clothes, Eudocia, with long robe: Socrates Hist. eccl. 6.18. Eugenius, takes purple robe from statue: Lib. Or. 11.159. Probus given purple robe from statue in temple in 276: SHA Probus 10.5; usurper Saturninus took purple robe from Venus statue: SHA Firmus, Saturninus, Proculus and Bonosus 9.3. Cult statues clothed, in Archaic and Classical Greece: Gleba (2008) 184. Incense, lights and sacrifices at Column of Constantine: Philostorgius Hist. eccl. 2.17. 188  Functions of imperial statues: Lavan (2011b). Bibles in law courts: Cassiod. Var. 4.12; Cod. Iust. 3.1.12 (AD 530); Just. Nov. 35 (AD 535), 60.2 (AD 537), 62.1 (AD 537), 90.9 (AD 539), 124.1 (AD

91 Honorands for columnar monuments were nearly all emperors or their wives, as we have seen. Anastasius’ nephew Pompeius may have been honoured for a victory over ‘Goths’ on one occasion, but this is speculative. Dedicants of honorific columns, as we have them, were either imperial colleagues or family members (Valentinian by Valens implied at Antioch (lit. source), Theodosius I by Arcadius, Arcadius by Theodosius II (lit. source), Theodosius II by his sisters (inscr.), Aelia Eudocia (Athenais) by Theodosius II at Athens (inscr.), Leo by his sister, Verina by husband Leo (lit. source)), or by high officials, such as by an urban prefect (twice, inscrs.) and by a leading imperial eunuch (lit. source), all at Constantinople, or by an Exarch at Rome (inscr.), and by a Prefect of Egypt at Alexandria (inscr.). Only in one case is a dedication by a city known, that of Constantinople to Theodora (recorded by Procopius, not in an inscription). At Oxyrhynchus, there is no dedicant. That of Constantine in the capital was also without one, as was the Column of the Goths (both inscr.). Clearly column monuments normally required the highest authorisation, and it was not the prerogative of provincial governors nor of cities to attempt such an honour. A wish to imitate Trajan can be seen in the imperial propaganda of both Constantine and Theodosius I. This doubtless encouraged both monarchs to follow the ‘best of emperors’ by building a column. Those of Theodosius, and of his son Arcadius, were nearly identical to the Roman monument. Given Trajan’s military reputation, it was perhaps inevitable that columns encouraged the celebration of victory. This notion can be found not just in statues and reliefs but also in one dedicatory text, on the Column of the Goths: to ‘returning fortune’ after a victory over the Gothic people. Other intentions can be suggested, such as a desire to recast the traditional Jupiter column as an imperial image.189 This was arguably a motivation for Diocletian (as ‘Jovius’), who had ascended as emperor and abdicated at the same spot, outside of Nicomedia, where he had erected a Jupiter column. Constantine’s intentions with his statue have been the subject of endless comments. One might imagine him representing himself as ‘founder’ in his plaza, but this is not supported by ancient sources or by the art 545). Foundation ceremonies at Constantine’s column: Dagron (1974) 37–42. 189  Late Roman imitation of Trajan: Constantine imitating his clean shaven look, with hair brushed forwards: see Bardill (2012) 11 (on image in coins), 227 (reusing Trajanic reliefs in his arch), with references to both. Theodosius I associated with Trajan: e.g. Hydatius, Chronicle 379.1 (74) erroneously recording that Theodosius came from Italica like Trajan; Claudian, IV Cons. 17–25 (family descended from kin of Trajan). Similarity of Column of Arcadius to that of Trajan: see appendix F9.

92 used. Its depiction of the emperor with a radiate crown has led many see him as representing the Sun God, with the reported inscription from the base acclaiming him as shining like the sun. Medieval sources support this, identifying the statue on his column as Apollo / Apollo Helios, an artwork which Anna Komnena thought was reused.190 It is easy therefore to see Constantine as an innovator in his imperial iconography, but this representation was not without a precursor. In Rome, Maxentius had rededicated the Sun colossus by the Flavian Amphitheatre to his son Romulus, according to an inscription found reused within the Arch of Constantine. Maxentius probably refashioned the head of the colossus to take his son’s features. When he remodeled the area, Constantine may well have altered the same head again to suit his own image, and remove those of Romulus, and so appear to all in the form of a heroic sun god.191 Aside from any active ideology behind column construction, there was undoubtedly also a passive desire to keep up an imperial habit once it had been established. It is difficult to see any simple competition in size: Justinian’s column did not approach the scale of his Theodosian predecessors, which echoed the large sizes of their triumphal arches. Yet, potentially, an emperor could be measured by his people from the size of his column: this seems clear in the case of Justin II. His incomplete column was lampooned by a placard attached to it: ‘Build up your column, build it up as high as you can, and climb up, and take a stand on top; and consider and look, and see East and West and North and South already ravaged and consumed by the days (of your rule)’ (Joh. Eph. Hist. Eccl. 3.24, transl. Brooks (1936)). One might also interpret the establishment of an honorific column for Valentinian I in the Forum of Valens at Antioch as part of a rash of construction, designed to re-establish the city as a favoured imperial residence, as if a new column signified an assertion of authority. The 4 columns dedicated to Phocas suggest something similar, for this precarious ruler. But it is difficult to go beyond these observations, into the mind of urban architects, to guess whether columns were usually associated with building works on the surrounding plazas. In a few cases (for Arcadius, Theodosius, Justinian, and probably Marcian), we can see the construction or renewal of a plaza as giving an architectural foil to an emperor’s column. These works provided a setting, like the ‘stable’ 190  Jupiter column erected by Diocletian outside Nicomedia: Lactant. De mort. pers. 19. For statue of Constantine see appendix F9. 191  Romulus colossus inscription inside Arch of Constantine: Bardill (2012) 101.

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which Trajan provided for his horse in his forum at Rome, noted in remarks made there to Constantius II in 357 (Ammianus 16.10.16). But in the case of Antioch, the Forum was named after Valens, not his brother, whose image stood on its column, whilst the agents of Phocas built nothing else within the Forum Romanum to earn his ‘place’ in Rome. Similarly, there was, in the 6th c., some disinterest in maintaining complex associations, when a statue really did not match its wider setting. The bronze colossus of Anastasius, set on the column in the Forum of Theodosius, replaced that of Theodosius I, apparently without altering anything else of the monument. The friezes still depicted the glories of the earlier ruler. Justinian rebuilt another column of the same Theodosius in the Augusteion, capping it with a reused equestrian statue of Arcadius, which could be identified from an inscription on the horse’s body. One can explain these disjunctures in terms of a desire to use prominent locations, seen earlier in the Augusteion, when Theodosius had displaced Helena. However, the 6th c. examples seem to go beyond this, showing a visible disregard for earlier monumental forms. The reused equestrian statue of Justinian, with its Arcadian inscription (still visible for a 16th c. artist to see), suggests a tolerance of aesthetic disjuncture between statue and context that was not seen in 4th to mid 5th c. columns. The mismatch between the highly visible ornament of the Theodosian column and its Anastasian statue also suggests that less care was being taken to make a coherent match between image and monument. We should perhaps remember that Anastasius’ statue was erected after the original image fell, and that Justinian was effectively reinventing the tradition of honorific columns, which had lain dormant for some time. The re-dedication to Phocas of older columns at Rome and at Oxyrhynchus suggests that just having a statue of a column was an acceptable objective. A wider urban appreciation of the setting of the monument had been lost. In the same vein, we might note that the equestrian statue of Justinian was set to face the East, so that a visitor to Constantinople coming down the Mese would be greeted by the rear end of his horse. Perhaps such statue-positioning was for the benefit of emperors coming out from the Great Palace, or to greet the rising sun / the Persians, as Procopius supposed. In the same way, a 12th c. visitor walking down the Mese came across the exposed buttocks of the statue of Constantine, also facing East, whilst the column’s inscription likely faced North, to the Senate. This positioning rejects any desire to greet the visitor, coming from the West, or to use the column to ornament the line of the Mese, which passed in front of the monument, to the South. This orientation

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might have been the result of repair, after the statue fell in 477/79. Whatever the reason, or date, such statue settings did not make for great ‘urban art’. We also need to explain why the capitals of the columns of Marcian and Phocas, along with that of the Goth’s column are not arranged straight in relation to their socles, but at a sharp angle. The column of Phocas is also poorly positioned within its socle rather than being centred. It falls to future archaeologists and restorers to establish if these positions were set within Late Antiquity, or if they are the result of block movement during earthquakes and / or restorations in the medieval period or later. A significant number of honorific columns saw their crowning statues replaced by crosses (Map 7c). The earliest securely dated attestations are 6th c. in date, although a cross was set on the Philadelphion obelisk sometime in the period 407–19, probably replacing a Chi-Rho. Examples are known from Constantinople [612], Perge [400–614], Jerusalem [543–79], and the Arabian bourgade of Um er-Rasas (Kastron Mefa’a) [400–574]. The last two columns are known to have existed for some time without any crowning element, as shown in mosaic map depictions. At Jerusalem, the capital stood empty at the time of the Madaba mosaic. At Kastron Mefa, the cross was removed sometime in 574–718, perhaps as a consequence of Islamic rule.192 There is, however, no certain indication that any honorific column was erected with a cross as part of its initial dedication: they were intended for imperial images, in all cases where contemporary documents permit us to know, with one example having a statue for Victory. Thus, we must be careful not to represent the erection of crosses as an entirely active process: the column by the Church of the Forty Martyrs at Constantinople had been intended for Phocas, whilst the cross at Perge replaced an earlier statue. Equally, it is tempting to think that later 5th to 6th c. honorific columns at Scythopolis, Abu Mina or Laodicea held crosses when first erected. We cannot prove it. Rather, it is subsequent practice that fills us with hindsight. All of them likely held imperial statues when first erected. Was the statue of Jerusalem (?Hadrian as Zeus) torn down by a Christian mob, leaving an empty pedestal? Were other statues on columns removed in the same manner, in acts of iconoclasm or rebellion? Or did they just fall off? When texts reveal the causes of statue substitution, it is rather earthquake and lightning which 192  Columns with crosses: see appendix F11. The replacement of the statue of Julian by a cross in his harbour at Constantinople dates to AD 535: Malalas 18.82. At Sergiopolis / Resafa, a pier-monument faced down a main street to the east gate: Westphalen (2000) 334–37, with 331 fig. 3 and 335 fig. 5. But the crowning element is unknown. If it was a cross or statue it would be an exception to the model suggested here.

93 seem to be most prominent. Symbolic acts, which might support scholarly theories of political conflict, are in short supply. Furthermore, we know that other imperial images were substituted without any rancour: the statue of Helena, removed from the Augusteion column, seems to have been redisplayed inside the palace. Nevertheless, it is possible that some inappropriate images could have been substituted or removed on account of their pagan associations: the Genius of Rome, standing outside the Senate, probably on the column later dedicated to Phocas, may have disappeared for this reason. Whoever carried out such acts was not prepared to remove Victories decorating imperial honorific columns: these were part of the ‘acceptable’ repertoire of pagan iconography in late antique public life, of statues which had hardly changed in their function, and which were set amongst a great number of ‘mythological’ images, in large part secularised cult statues, now brought into the public spaces of larger cities. The continuing presence of traditional art within imperial capitals reveals something of the complex and pluralistic nature of late antique society, which had space for memory and sentiment, rather than being some sanitised puritan utopia.193 This is not to say that cross monuments were never planned as new urban ornaments: Procopius records that Justinian erected a cross in front of the Acacius Church at Constantinople, which was surely at least as substantial a structure as a statue monument, whether or not it stood on column. But there is obviously a strong ecclesiastical connection here, so it can hardly be seen as recasting the nature of public space. Change was slow, and Christianity could be honoured by adding to the classical city rather than by taking away from it, or by dominating it.194 Monumental Fountains Monumental fountains, often given the problematic (but ancient) name of ‘nymphaeum / νύμφαιον’, were amongst the most spectacular of classical street ornaments. Those built in the 4th and 5th c. never equalled those of the early 3rd c., in terms of their architectural sophistication, but still inherited elements of their design and ornament.195 Here, I use the terms ‘monumental 193  Acceptable pagan statues in public space: Lavan (2011b). 194  Cple, Acacius Church cross: Procop. Aed. 1.4.27. 195  This section was written before the publication of Jacobs and Richard (2012), which provides a stimulating discussion of aspects of nymphaea in Late Antiquity, including some not considered here. However, the chronology of the study is not always strongly established, with late examples sometimes mixed with those of earlier centuries, and a few measurements are incorrect. The fountains referred to here rely on my own data collection, and my own analysis, though I have added two cases of modified ornament identified by Jacobs

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fountains’ and ‘nymphaea’ interchangeably, and define them as ornamented water basins with a front width greater than 4 m. Some tiny fountains are both ornamented and have an architectural façade, meaning that I am unable to adopt the definition of J. Richard, who classifies all public springs thus decorated as monumental fountains.196 An example at Cuicul, ca. 3 m wide, which had a pedimental canopy supported by 4 columns, remains for me a street fountain; so do two small fountains at Ostia (4 m and 0.9 m wide) with (lost) pediments, each supported by a pair of columns.197 I have simply opted for a division between monumental fountains and street fountains, at 4 m in width, from a feeling that basins above this size are capable of something more than supplying water to a neighbourhood. Large fountains wider than 4 m are able to ornament street space in a wider sense, as urban monuments noteworthy to visitors from outside of a neighbourhood. In the discussion that follows, I have included not only street nymphaea, but also fountains set within squares, as these sometimes have a relationship to streets entering into a plaza. It is better to discuss the general characteristics of these monuments in a consolidated section here, rather than splitting them between streets and fora / agorai. Nymphaea set within streets were renewed across most of the Mediterranean (Map 8a and 8b). New examples built on streets are known in 9 cases at 5 sites in the West and in 14 cases at 9 sites in the East: in Italy, at Ostia [2 times: 250–75 just outside our period; 346–89], and Rome [2 times: 286–305 text, 410–544.5, possible / incomplete example]; in Africa, at Tipasa [300–430] (fig. B24c), Thamugadi [539–647, in a fort], and Sufetula [3 times: all 364–67 inscr.]; in Illyricum, at Stobi [425–616], Athens [400–500], and Gortyn [300–65]; in Constantinople [2 times: 324–425]; in Asia Minor, at Ephesus [3 times: 300–610, ca. 410, 450–540*, 400–540], Laodicea ad Lycum [395–610], Aphrodisias [250–614], and Side [3 times: 250–614, 518–27*, undated]; in Oriens, at Bostra [undated late antique to Early Islamic]. Repaired examples are known on 7 occasions at 6 sites in the West and on 21 occasions at 7 sites in the East: in Italy, at Cures Sabini [250–410 inscr.], and Ostia [2, 268–389, 300–400]; in Africa, at Lambaesis [364–67 inscr.], Thamugadi

[250–439], Mactaris [300–350], and Sufetula [364–647]; in Greece, at Corinth [4 times: 250–404*, 379–616 by 3*], and Gortyn [3 times: 500–600, 612, 250–738]; in Asia Minor, at Ephesus [3 times: 340–50, possibly 286–305, 400–50, ca. 410], Laodicea ad Lycum [4 times: 250–494, 400–614, 494–610, 602–610, plus 2 times on water pipes 400–500, 494–614], Sagalassos [250–614]; and Perge [250–614], in Oriens, at Antioch [twice: 300–540, 540– 65], and Scythopolis [395–404]. I use an asterisk to indicate examples built inside an enclosed court. Nymphaea set within fora / agorai saw slightly less building work in Late Antiquity. New built examples include one case from 1 site in the West and 3 from 2 sites in the East: at Ostia [346–89], Constantinople [2 times: 373, 324–425 both texts], and Aphrodisias [460–518]. Repairs to nymphaea set in fora / agorai are more widely spread, with 3 examples known from 3 sites in the West and 6 examples from the 3 sites in the East: at Valencia [undated, claimed as 4th c.], Ostia [346–512.5], Scolacium [undated], Argos [2 times: 387.5–403, 387.5– 600], Sagalassos [3 times: 400–614, 400–614 for Upper Agora nymphaeum; 500–550 for Lower Agora nymphaeum], and Hierapolis [337–61].198 There are also a good number of monumental fountains from Perge and Side which are undated, some of which likely date to the mid 3rd c. or earlier, so I have excluded them here.199 The chronological distribution of building work is difficult to study, as structures have date ranges of greatly differing lengths. Nevertheless, we can roughly state that around half of the building work seems to date from the 4th c., with a big drop in quantity in the 5th c., which further declines in the 6th c. New building of nymphaea on streets shows a smaller decline than other sub-categories of building work in the 5th c., but if one takes out Ephesus, the decline is the same as for others such as new building in agorai, or repairs. There is a further clear decline in interest in all categories of building after ca. 500. At this time, a few monumental fountains were repaired but they were almost never built anew in secular public space. Their absence from Procopius’ Buildings confirms this: only at Constantina in Mesopotamia (2.5.10) and Antioch (2.10.22) (after the Persian sack of AD 540) is the rebuilding of fountains

and Richard, as detailed in the appendix H3. Richard (2012) also reached me after completing my text for this chapter, although I have been able to engage with it in places. 196  Definition of monumental fountains: see subtle discussion by Richard (2012) 1–33, with his definition on p. 30: “a structure designed to contain and move water, in which water was exposed, had an aesthetic value and was integrated into an architectural and decorative frame adopting the shape of a façade, this frame being superfluous in the sense that it did not affect the function of the installation.”. 197  Street fountains with façades: see appendix H6.

198  Nymphaea built or repaired within fora / agorai: see appendices K7a–K7b and S7a. 199  The Nymphaea Tria on the Aventine, built under Diocletian and Maximian [286–305] may have been on either a street or a plaza (I think the latter, given the general location). It might have actually been a repair given its description within a wider list of works that can be confirmed as such by archaeology. The niched wall at Rome, built in the 5th c. or a little later on the Argiletum [410–544.5, above] might be an incomplete nymphaeum, or a way of decorating a narrow passage.

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mentioned. Simple fountains might be implied in both cases, as no sculpture or other finery is described by Procopius. It is important to point out that at Antioch, the primary build of the nymphaeum excavated by the Princeton expedition is likely to be 3rd c. rather than 6th c., revising what Lassus believed. However, at Gortyn, acclamations to the family of Heraclius on a nymphaeum suggest repairs to at least some part of the water system in 612. The regional distribution of work shows a clear change from the later 3rd to 4th c., when building work on nymphaea extends across Greece and Asia Minor, Italy and Africa, with only a few outliers. During this period, major cities in Italy and Africa seem to have kept building large nymphaea, even when other types of eastern street ornament, such as porticoes, had relatively little success. The distribution of building work in the 5th to 6th c. sees a very different concentration of new and repaired monumental fountains, confined to Asia Minor and elsewhere in the Aegean, with little elsewhere. Low-level maintenance work extended in this region into later 6th / early 7th c., so that Ephesus, Side, Aphrodisias, and Sagalassos remained cities of many fountains until the urban crisis of the reign of Heraclius and his successors. From this time, Gortyn alone seems to have continued to have maintained its nymphaeum. Surprisingly, from the Near East, only three or four examples of repairs to monumental fountains and no new examples are known [Antioch in 300–540 and 540–65 and Scythopolis in 395–404, plus Bostra undated], in a region where nymphaea previously had been common. No late antique building work at all is known on nymphaea for the warm regions of Libya and Egypt, nor for the temperate regions of the northern Balkans, northern Gaul, and Britain. In some cities, the number of monumental fountains repaired or built in Late Antiquity is remarkable, as at Ostia (3), Sufetula (3), and Ephesus (5), suggesting very localised fashions. The intensity of construction or repair of nymphaea on some streets in Asia Minor seems to constitute a local preference for aquatic ornament. At Ephesus, by the 6th c., there were 6 working monumental fountains concentrated on a single street (along the Embolos going into the so-called square of Domitian). At Side, there were 4 monumental fountains on the main street (of which two were built or repaired in Late Antiquity), set either side of a monumental arch. In both cases, there are so many fountains that one is given the impression that an attempt was being made to cool the air temperature in busy streets, through the impact of latent heat absorption during evaporation, a phenomenon experienced today in cities with generous fountains, as at the Fontana di Trevi in Rome. This impression

95 is reinforced by the continued existence of open running water channels, dating from Early Imperial times, set into main streets at Perge and Side. A similar arrangement may have been attempted, within our period, at Laodicea ad Lycum. Here, pools and pipes were established on either side of the roadway on Ephesus Street, in the later 4th to early 5th c.200 The size of monumental fountains changed somewhat during the 3rd c. (see fig. B23a). Large nymphaea (with basins over 10 m wide) are only known in the major cities of Ostia (effectively part of Rome) and Constantinople, with a single problematic case from Aphrodisias. This is in contrast to the Early Empire, when very large nymphaea were found not just in Rome (ca. 93 m wide) but also in regional centres such as Hierapolis (65 m), Laodicea ad Lycum (41.6 m), Aspendos (32.5 m), and Side (52 m), and (exceptionally for the West) at Valeria, a small city in Hispania, which boasted a nymphaeum with a façade over 80 m wide.201 The two nymphaea at Ostia, (the Vittoria and the Bivium), measure 23 m and 26 m in width respectively. At Constantinople, the nymphaeum maius must have been very large. The exedra of the Forum of Theodosius (as identified by Berger), may represent this nymphaeum: it measures ca. 37 m wide in diameter, from its rear wall at each end. These dimensions would have made it the largest new-built example for Late Antiquity. The similarly large basin at Aphrodisias (ca. 35 m wide, not ca. 50 m as stated by I. Jacobs and J. Richard) can be explained as a function of the Agora Gate it was built onto. The great size of this basin (ca. 8 m from gate to balustrade) was probably intended to maximise the reflection of the columnar screen of the gate itself, even if its high parapet prevented a direct view from the agora floor. Other new nymphaea, such as those at Ephesus, and Gaudin’s gymnasium at Aphrodisias, were a lot smaller: around 10 m in width, as can be seen on the comparative illustration (see fig. B23b).202 Architectural forms of late nymphaea are generally simple. Only one semi-circular nymphaeum can be confirmed archaeologically, coming from Tipasa, of which the dating is acceptable but not strong. A similar fountain is shown on the Yakto mosaic for Daphne but was 200  Fountain streets: Ephesus, fountains on Embolos: Fildhuth (2010); Foss (1979); Perge and Side, streets with running water channels in centre: L. Lavan site observation 2004. 201  Large Early Imperial nymphaea: Asia Minor: see the study published of Richard (2012) 261 (Aspendos), 270 (Hierapolis), 273 (Laodicea ad Lycum), 274 (Perge 59.4 m—but no evidence that it is 5th c.), 278 (Side). Rome, Septizodium (ca. 93 m): see Hülsen (1886) pl. 4; Valeria (over 80 m): see Fuentes Domínguez (2006) 114. 202  All dimensions measured off plans except for Antioch, where they are derived from the publications of Lassus.

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Ostia, piazza della vittoria

Ostia, opposite foro della statua eroica

Ostia, Nymphaeum Bivium

Ephesus, Embolos, Library

Ephesus, Embolos, Heroon (of Androklos)

Ephesus, Fountain House opposite Stadium

Timgad

Sufetula (3)

Aphrodisias Nymphaeum of 'Gaudin's gymnasium'

0

Constantinople, Forum

Aphrodisias, Agora Gate

100m

figure b23a Simplified plan of basin sizes of late antique façade nymphaea

not necessarily late. A second half-round example has been found in Athens, although it is not complete. That found in the Forum of Theodosius, in the great exedra mentioned above, may be a third. Unfortunately, nothing except one corner of its curving rear wall has been recovered, although the exedra floor was paved in brick and served by a large drain. Thus, the floor might represent a basin, especially as it is set on a raised level above a portico of the plaza, which creates a straight façade for the diameter of the exedra / ‘pool’.203 A unique square nymphaeum at Argos owes its shape to the monument it was adapted from. All other monumental fountains built in streets or squares in Late Antiquity were ‘façade nymphaea’. These monuments consisted of a straight wall of architectural elements, fronted by a basin, perhaps with short wings on the lateral sides. The back wall of one nymphaeum built at Ostia held a semi-circular niche, surrounded by two rectangular niches. Those at Sufetula had rectangular niches: 5 in the rear wall, plus 2 in the lateral walls enclosing the basin. The nymphaeum at Gortyn had one semi-circular niche on each of its three sides. That on the main street at Side had one semi-circular niche with probably two flanking rectangular niches, both arcaded. That opposite the stadium at Ephesus had three: one central semi-circular niche and two square side-niches. The central niche was topped by a semi-dome, and the side niches were topped by complex double-centred arched vaults. In other examples from Asia Minor, as at Aphrodisias, Ephesus, and Side, façade elements were borrowed, by adding basins to a façade in situ. Alternatively, builders might re-erect a façade in conjunction with basins, as was 203   Semi-circular conch nymphaea: Ostia, opposite the Foro della statua eroica: see appendix H1 (discounted section); Constantinople, Forum of Theodosius: see appendix H1 and K1a. For the Yakto mosaic, of Daphne, see Lassus (1934).

done at Aphrodisias, in the case of Gaudin’s gymnasium. This would seem to have been undertaken for reasons of fashion, as well as economy. Neither Asian style was copied in other parts of the empire.204 Nymphaea were thus varied in their architectural details, especially depending on whether they reused parts of an earlier monument. Those that were built anew seem to have been one-storey, although they could still reach an impressive height, depending how far from the ground the niches were set. At Ostia, the Bivium Nymphaeum was perhaps only of one storey. Yet, it was still equal in height to two house floors, and probably reached 8.1 m. At Side, the façade nymphaeum on the cistern north of the monumental arch had similar dimensions. The Sufetula nymphaea seems to have been around 8.15 m high. A few monumental fountains may have extended to a second storey of niches, as did some Early Imperial nymphaea: this cannot be ruled in or out from most of the excavated examples. The great nymphaeum at Constantinople survives to a height of 5.15 m, although further ornament may have carried it higher.205 Other new-built façade nymphaea were more modest, as at Ephesus, opposite the stadium, when the fountain rose 3.3 m high to its cornice. Façade architecture was often associated with late public nymphaea, although we have no surviving new-cut projecting elements, which had been such 204  A single ‘nymphaeum in the round’ can be seen in the transformation of the square monument at Argos, where basins were added, though this is within an agora: See appendix K7b. 205   Two-storey nymphaea: see Early Imperial examples at Aspendos and Gerasa in Segal (1997) 160–62, 167–68. Three-storey nymphaea: see Side, Miletus, and Rome (Septizodium) in Segal (1997) 168. See recent studies on Septizodium: Lusnia (2004) 517–44; Thomas (2007) 327–67. The catalogue of Richard (2012) 259–80 is now a superior starting point for these and other examples.

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Ostia, Nymphaeum Bivium

Sufetula Tipasa

Gortyn

Philippi

Ephesus Laodicea

Antioch

0

20m

figure b23b Sections of late antique monumental fountains, certain, possible, discounted: Ostia (Bivium) (250–75), Sufetula (364–67), Tipasa (possibly 300–430), Gortyn (300–65). Philippi, ecclesiastical (400–537), Ephesus (Fountain opposite the stadium) (400–540), Laodicea (395–610), Antioch (probably 3rd c., not late antique)

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figure b24a A façade transformed into a façade nymphaeum: the Agora Gate at Aphrodisias. Re-used friezes (of an amazonomachy, centauromachy, and gigantomachy) served as ballustrades for the basin, but are not visible here.

distinctive components of Early Imperial examples. We can note a division between new-built nymphaea and those which were clad onto earlier structures. The latter inherited projecting elements of varying designs, usually supported by columns, as for example at Aphrodisias and Ephesus. These columnar screens were in some cases two or three-storeys high (see fig. B24a for the Agora Gate of Aphrodisias). For new-built late nymphaea, we have details of architectural elements from very few sites, above the podium level. Projecting columns certainly decorated some fountains. Pilaster socles imply this, at Sufetula and Gortyn, with 18 columns reconstructed for the latter monument. Those at Sufetula seem likely to have supported small capitals, holding up brick arcades, if their reconstructed elevations can be relied on. At Tipasa, a ‘raised portico’ of 10 columns, set well away from the back wall, supported a roof curving round the semi-circle, with triangular pediments at each end. A large pediment is known to have crowned the ca. 8.3 m wide ‘Gaudin’s gymansiumʼ nymphaeum at Aphrodisias, where it was reused, supported by columns set on pedestals. Finally, a ‘Justinianic’ nymphaeum at Side, set in an enclosed court, apparently had

4 marble-clad socles carrying projecting elements of the Corinthian order. However, the lack of publications on this last fountain makes it difficult to take it as representative of its presumed date.206 The best-preserved façades of new nymphaea come from Sufetula and Tipasa, both in Africa (fig. B23b and B24c). Their rarity justifies some detail here. There are doubts regarding the date of the latter site. Therefore, I will only describe Sufetula, a fountain 50 m south-west of the forum, the best preserved of three identical late fountains in the city of 364–67. The pedestals projecting from the podium rise 1.8 m from the ground, and support column bases of ca. 0.2 m high, then columns of grey monoliths of local stone without fluting, 2.75 m high, 0.45 m wide at the base. The capitals were probably Corinthian, based on a fragment found reused in a structure that later occupied the site. The architraves measure 0.25 m, with arcades projected above extending further ca. 1.2 m. Thus, the total height of the colonnade, from floor to architrave, is 5 m, and from the floor to the 206  Columns and projecting elements: see references in appendices H1–H2 and H6.

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figure b24b A façade transformed into a façade nymphaeum: the Heroon on the Embolos at Ephesus. The ballustrades were cut anew, probably in the 5th c. Photo: copyright Austrian Archaeological Institute A-W-OAI-DIA-014824

arcade vault is 6.2 m. The total height of the monument is not certain, although the reconstruction drawing allows about another 1.95 m, giving a total height of 8.15 m. The fountains are overall built with care, with columns being of a high quality of carving, although that of column bases is very poor: the motifs are all different and the succession of toruses and scotias follows no rule. Such disjunctures may indicate reuse of some elements or may indicate that specific shortages of skilled labour existed within the building trade in 4th c. Africa, which made such façades difficult to execute. Marble cladding is known on an enclosed façade nymphaeum at Ephesus, and at Ostia. Here, white, cipollino, grey, and orange-white marble formed the late revetment of three nymphaea, with painted plaster likely set above 2 m, or, in one case, everywhere outside the basin. The façade nymphaeum at Ephesus exhibits alternating white and ‘black’ marble veneer in the niches inside its basin. In the Levant, the local stone was often good enough to decorate the structure, perhaps explaining why we have no evidence of veneers from this region, except at Antioch, where marble covered over brickfaced concrete, as part of a late refurbishment. Finally, Ausonius talks of Parian marble being present on a fountain at Bordeaux.207 Yet, he surprisingly neglects to mention any statues in his evocative description of this

great fountain of his native city. It is possible that many western nymphaea lacked statue ornaments: the square niches at Sufetula being only 0.4 m deep. But the larger niches seen at Ostia, 0.7 m deep, which alternate between semi-circular and square shapes, seem intended for statues, as do those of the nymphaeum at Side. The Tipasa nymphaeum has a ‘portico’ wide enough to cover a large statuary display, if it wished. The great exedra at Constantinople had a ledge, ca. 1.3 m deep, set 1.98 m above the portico floor, and ca. 1.45 m above the basin floor: this too could have supported statues. The niches of the fountain opposite the stadium at Ephesus and of that at Gortyn obviously served the same purpose, as statuary finds indicate. Very few examples of late ex novo sculptural decoration are known for nymphaea. The most noteworthy example should perhaps be discounted: Eusebius claims that Constantine ornamented fountains ‘in the midst of the agora’ with sculpture representing Christ the Good Shepherd and Daniel in the Lion’s Den. This cannot be specifically related to the Forum of Constantine and may be based on a misunderstanding. No other source mentions this remarkable group of Christian sculptures in the eastern capital, and no other nymphaeum is known to have had Christian sculpture for the whole of Late Antiquity.208 Rather, we see a continuation of existing

207  Architectural decoration: see references in appendices H1–H2. Bordeaux: Auson. Carm. 9.20.

208  Decoration of nymphaeum in Forum of Constantine: Euseb. Vit. Const. 3.49, where the agora concerned is not specified. I

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figure b24c Elliptical fountain, Tipasa, possibly of 300–430

themes, with some rather chaotic additions. At Ostia, a dolphin ridden by an Eros was recovered from near the Bivium Nymphaeum: it is unlikely this sculpture belonged in the niches, but perhaps came from the basin. The fountain of the Forum of Constantine, likely established in the reign of Valens, might have been decorated by a dolphin found there. At Ephesus, the new façade nymphaeum opposite the stadium was decorated with a Dionysus-Satyr group, a sleeping Eros, a Harpocrates, and a female figure of archaising style, suggesting that the collection was at least partially made up of reused pieces. At Gortyn, the fountain has produced a statue of seated Muse, a civil nude torso and a nymph in a conch, a small Venus in a garden, little Apollo or small Hermes. The dolphin of Ostia can be convincingly related to a watery theme, as can erotes (see below). However, much of the ornament in the example at Ephesus is not aquatic, suggesting that little effort was being made to reproduce a coherent fluvial decoration, comparable to Early Imperial nymphaea. Gortyn is similarly mixed, with no obvious watery element, beyond the nymph. The rest of the ornament suggests a mythological mixture, set around a single political figure, but it is hard to think that the sculpture was strongly connected by any design. At least in the Aegean, statues were muddled antiquarian collections of earlier pieces. 209 suspect ‘in public’ is more the sense used here. This is believed to be a true report by Jacobs and Richard (2012) 34. 209  Sculptural decoration of new nymphaea: see appendix H1. For the Forum of Constantine dolphin: see appendix K1a.

The same impression is given in cases where the sculptural decoration was not new or brought in but rather just modified in Late Antiquity (Map 8c). At Sagalassos, the statue display of the Upper Agora nymphaeum included non-original sculptures: namely, Early Imperial civic benefactors from the Neon family. With their bases, these were not a good fit for the niches they inhabited. They were probably inserted after the late antique restoration of the structure. Non-matching additions of Early Imperial sculpture can be seen in the Hadrianic nymphaeum of the same city, and at Perge, where a late portrait bust (perhaps originally from a house) was added to the decoration of a nymphaeum. At Ephesus, an apsidal fountain on the Embolos was decorated with a Late Hellenistic statue group, representing the blinding of Polyphemus by Odysseus and his crew, in secondary use. At the Trajanic nymphaeum, on the street to the Magnesian Gate, a seated statue and a Late Severan portrait head were recovered which do not match the setting, implying a secondary installation in Late Antiquity. Otherwise, we have two examples from Ephesus of statues of emperors being added to nymphaea on streets or squares in the 4th c. Firstly, statues of Diocletian and (likely) Maximian were added to the Hydreion on the Embolos. Secondly, statues of Constantius II and Constans were added to the façade of the nymphaeum, on the street south of the Upper Agora. At Gortyn, imperial acclamations, to the dynasty of Heraclius, perhaps acted as late substitutes for imperial images, when they were inscribed onto columns of the nymphaeum outside the praetorium. They were

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likely connected to changes in the extensive urban water system still functioning in the city.210 There were other older sculptural assemblages of nymphaea which were not greatly altered but were maintained or passively preserved in Late Antiquity. Such groups should not be overlooked. To a 6th c. viewer, they might have been indistinguishable from those more recently assembled. The survival of mythological statue groups is clear for Asia Minor. Groups of statues in nymphaea often featured Dionysus, satyrs, and river deities. At Laodicea ad Lycum, we see statues of Pan and Nike surviving in nymphaea, on the main streets, alongside friezes: of Theseus killing the minotaur and of Zeus’ kidnapping of Ganymede. Ganymede was taken by Zeus to be his homosexual lover, so the retention of this frieze is significant, displayed until the city was destroyed in the time of Phocas. This ornament coexisted with large decorative Christian crosses, cut on the monument in the later 5th or 6th c. Only at Sagalassos has a late attempt to hide a sculpture group been detected: it has been suggested that stone blocks bearing crosses were used to hide statues of Dionysus on the Upper Agora nymphaeum, although the evidence is not conclusive. At Ephesus, the mythological ornament of the city’s many nymphaea seems to have been left undisturbed, except in one detail. The sculptures themselves were allowed to stand. There was no attempt to remove mythological statuary from public view in this Christian city, only to edit it, to impose a nominal modesty.211 This was done by systematically removing the genitalia of male nude figures, from all nymphaea where such details can be traced (6 cases), as documented by Auinger and Rathmayr. At Side, a late 2nd or early 3rd c. nymphaeum, on the main colonnaded street, north and east of the monumental arch, contained a Hercules statue that likewise had its genitals removed. Indeed, a closer look at the statue at Sagalassos suggests that the penis of Dionysus was cut prior to the statue being walled up, due to the presence of mortar on the stone. Thus, the image must have stood for a time without genitals but otherwise fully visible on the agora. Editing also likely explains the missing penis on a supporting satyr. Such practices might have been found elsewhere in Asia Minor, but I know of no examples elsewhere. This is probably because sculptural assemblages survive best for fountains here, as the collapse of cities came quickly in the 7th c. In the Near East, sculpture was perhaps removed from nymphaea after this time, when cities persisted. 210  Modification of decoration: see appendix H3. New statues and acclamations: H2. 211  Mythological décor of nymphaea: see appendices H3 and K7b.

101 It is worth considering the Ephesian cases in detail. On the Embolos of Ephesus, the sculptural ornaments of the façade of the Library of Celsus (to which a basin was added) were retained, as were those of the Nymphaeum of Trajan. The Nymphaeum of Domitian, in the square at the top of the Embolos, has two over-life-sized statues of Zeus (heads only) and two river gods. The apsidal fountain in the same square, depicting the blinding of Polyphemus, has also survived again. But in all cases, the genitals of naked men have been cut out. Not far away, the nymphaeum of C. Laecanius Bassus—with its Early Imperial décor, including statues of mythological water beings and satyrs—has had the same treatment. Finally, the Trajanic nymphaeum on the street to the Magnesian Gate saw a Latin cross carved on the forehead of the Late Severan portrait head. We also see genitalia removed on a well-preserved statue of Hermes from an early? 3rd c. nymphaeum by the Triumphal Arch at Perge. Here, again, the statue of a pagan god had been allowed to stand (alongside another of Athena) until the end of the period, but without its private parts. Anyone wishing to envisage a Christian assault on civic art in Late Antiquity would do well to consider the character of this evidence, and how close it suggests the treatment of public nudity was to our own times.212 The balustrades of nymphaea provided another opportunity for decoration, if less often exploited than was the use of sculpture. Several late examples were unornamented, as had been their Early Imperial counterparts: this can be seen for all three late nymphaea at Sufetula, at Tipasa, at Ephesus, and at Laodicea ad Lycum. The basin front walls of Ostia do not survive to any height and leave no hint of ornament, although an older large fountain on the Decumanus saw its front wall covered with marble revetment after 268. Such improvements were echoed at Stobi, where a late fountain was built with a veneer of well-cut stone slabs, covering over reused material.213 A few nymphaea (2 in Africa, 1 in Crete) employed reused decorated sarcophagi as basins, a practice which seems to belong in the 6th c.214 However, we see forebasins (not sar212  Genitals removed, at Ephesus: see appendix H3. Cross added to heads of Augustus (2) and Livia, in civil basilica at Ephesus: Alzinger (1972–75) 262–65 figs. 16–19, 296; at Side: see appendix H3; at Sagalassos, Upper Agora: see Waelkens et al. (1997) 156–62; Moens et al. (1997) 367–83, with figures, neither of which refer to the missing genitals. 213  Basins balustrade, unornamented: see appendices H1–H2 for references. 214  Reuse of sarcophagi as fountain basins, in Africa, seen in poem of Luxorius, (ca. AD 500) (active under last three Vandal kings AD 493–534): Anth. Lat. 1.320; in use in late fountains at Thamugadi (inside the reconquest fort); added to front of the nymphaeum at Gortyn (which around that time was a

102 cophagi this time) being added to monumental fountains also at Sufetula, Gortyn, and Ephesus. At Side, a ‘Justinianic’ fountain house seems to have had low forebasins and water outlets, projecting from its basin front, featuring crosses, garlands, cantharoi, plant scrolls, and vegetal ornament. At Ephesus, two fountains have been identified with newly-cut balustrades, which were ornamented. These were installed in front of the Heroon on the Embolos, featuring crosses (some with splayed ends) surrounded by geometric designs (fig. B24b). A comparable balustrade was made for the fountain house opposite the stadium, featuring crosses set within a circle, plus tendrils, cut onto stone screens. As I have noted above, large well-cut crosses were cut onto the parapet of the Caracalla Nymphaeum, at Laodicea ad Lycum. The Severan Nymphaeum A, in the same city, saw a marble frieze with a goat added, set off by a red painted background, alongside an architrave frieze block with carved fishes, in repairs probably dating to 494–610.215 In each case, an attempt was made to embellish and improve the display of the fountains in an extravagant manner. Western Asia Minor was again showing itself capable of architectural innovation, despite not being as obviously wealthy as the Levant. At Aphrodisias, at Laodicea ad Lycum, and at Ephesus, the reuse of sculpted friezes from temples and other buildings gave 6 nymphaea (4 of which were on streets) impressive frontal elements, not yet found in any other part of the empire. At Ephesus, they included a Parthian battle scene, reused both for the balustrade of the fountain set in front of the Library of Celsus and also for the Straßenbrunnen. Blocks from the altar of Domitian’s temple were reused for a fountain on the ‘Plateia in Coressus’. At Laodicea, sculpted frieze blocks, depicting the Mother Goddess and one of the leading families of Laodicea, were reused to make a small fountain in front of the basin of ‘Severan Nymphaeum A’. At Aphrodisias, sculptured reliefs employed in two nymphaea included an amazonomachy, a centauromachy, and a gigantomachy (although their order was mixed up). These reused reliefs often produced very high balustrades, contrasting with most fountains, where they stopped around waist-height. The reliefs reached ca. 1.2–1.3 m in the case of ‘Gaudin’s gymnasium’ at Aphrodisias, 2 m in the case of the Library of Celsus in Ephesus, and 2.8 m total basin height for the Agora Gate nymphaeum in the former city. In these covered cistern), a city with a great deal of late water system renewal. See appendix H1 and H2. 215  Basin balustrades newly-cut with ornaments, Ephesus: at Heroon (on embolos) and at enclosed fountain house (opposite stadium): see references in appendix H1.

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examples, the height of the reused reliefs significantly reduced the effectiveness of the basins as reflection pools for ornament behind. These great high basins remained open to the sky: but when engineers wished to create a tank or cistern they could do so, by vaulting over the pool, as at Gortyn. The nymphaeum at Laodicea, set on a major street just inside a city gate, was built as a great covered tank from the start, but, as we will see, this marked something of a transitional monument and the end of the classical tradition of street nymphaea.216 We know something of the reception of nymphaea and their ornament in Late Antiquity, in contrast to most other street monuments. Libanius was especially proud of a monumental fountain that stood in the main street of Antioch, describing it as ‘… high as heaven and turning every eye with the dazzling light of its stones and the colour of its columns and the gleam of its pictures (mosaics) and the wealth of its flowing water.’ In contrast, Ammianus disapproved of the daring Severan Septizodium at Rome, 1 of 15 nymphaea in the city: he considered the style to be ‘rather ostentatious’. It is not clear whether his view was that of a resident of Rome, of a native of Antioch, or of a well-travelled servant of the empire, all of which he was. Yet, such statements, along with others from late 3rd / 4th c. texts, confirm that monumental fountains still had a strong impact on those experiencing them. Ausonius’ lively description of the great fountain at Bordeaux is given more space than any other monument in his account of his native city. At Constantinople, the nymphaeum established by Valens on the Forum of Constantine also seems to have provoked strong reactions, reflected in a piece of gossip recorded by Socrates. Something of the dramatic nature of water displays can also be appreciated from a dedication of works for a fountain at Didyma. This text, from the late 3rd c., speaks of the ‘gold-flowing waters’ which gushed from the spring. L. Robert assembled a collection of such late watery verses, mainly connected with baths. These mention the role of Eros and his torch in warming

216  Basin balustrades of reused friezes: at Aphrodisias at Agora Gate (amazonomachy, centauromachy, and gigantomachy), at Gaudin’s gymnasium (gigantomachy); at Ephesus on Library of Celsus nymphaeum (Parthian battle scenes), on Trajanic street fountain (so-called Straßenbrunnen) (Parthian battle scenes: an armed figure): see appendix H2. Also at Ephesus, but not on a street: on fountain basin inside late entrance courtyard of Harbour Baths (frieze of bucrania with garlands): Auinger and Rathmayr (2007) 238; at Laodicea ad Lycum: see appendix H2. A small fountain against the Severan nymphaeum included friezes depicting the Mother Goddess / Gaia, and ‘one of the leading families of Laodicea’. This detail is not in recent reports.

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waters, perhaps thus explaining his appearance in the sculptural assemblages described above.217 Amongst regional styles, the new late nymphaea at Ostia are the most spectacular, in both size and positioning, perhaps reflecting those inside Rome. They perpetuated the scenographic urban street style of Lepcis Magna and of the Early Imperial Levant, which was reflected in the setting of the Severan Septizodium at Rome. This faced up a major avenue coming into the heart of the city.218 The new fountains of Africa are comparable to Ostia in other ways: the new nymphaea of Sufetula recall the private nymphaea of Ostia with their arcaded colonnades, a detail which does not survive on Ostian public examples. They are also relatively large, like those found in the streets of the port of Rome, in contrast to its domestic examples. If the great fountain of Tipasa really is 4th c., then it reinforces a wider impression that monumental fountains were rare but quite spectacular in the West at this time. The nymphaea of Asia Minor, with the exception of the fountain added to the Agora Gate at Aphrodisias, were fairly small, although still presenting columnar façades. Inertia inevitably played the greatest role in determining architectural style, as in cases where screens of columns were reused. Only a few entirely new late monumental fountains are known in the East, as from Gortyn, Ephesus (by the stadium), and Side, where builders were happy enough to have adopted niched walls fronted by projecting columnar screens, as in earlier periods. It is strange that the ‘fountain streets’ seen at Ephesus and Perge were not followed elsewhere. The hot cities of the Mediterranean could well have benefitted from comparable installations. Finally, the late regional style of the Near East can only be expressed as a lacuna: the very low level of late antique building work in the region is a surprise, given the Early Imperial vogue for exuberant nymphaea, which had even spawned a monumental fountain type with low water usage, adapted to the arid climate.219 217   Nymphaea in literature, at Antioch: Lib. Or. 11.202; at Rome: Ammianus Marcellinus, 15.7.3; (Not. Urbis Rom. lists 15 nymphaea in the city in mid 4th c.; at Bordeaux: Auson. Carm. 20.21–35; at Constantinople: Socrates Hist. eccl. 4.8 (Constantinople), Bauer (1996) 171; at Didyma, late 3rd c.: (Robert (1948) 74–75 = Rehm (1958) 159 = SEG 4.467 = PHI Didyma no. 564. Collection of watery verses: Robert (1948) 74–81, with Eros and his torch warming waters Robert (1948) 77. 218  Scenographic urbanism at Lepcis Magna: Macdonald (1986) 56–58 (on the nymphaeum plaza); Ward-Perkins (1993). In the Early Imperial East: Segal (1997) 147–48, 166–67 (on gates and nymphaea). At Rome: Lusnia (2004) 533–58; Thomas (2007). 219  Fountains of Levant: Segal (1997) 151–68. On low water usage see: Richard (2008) 263–84; (2013) 172–76. This region also has Early Imperial waterless temples which resemble nymphaea. These undertake some of the architectural functions of

103 The urban setting of nymphaea is of course of significance in evaluating their function. Some monumental fountains were orientated so that they would be visible along the sight-lines of major streets, including those (built anew) at Sufetula, Ephesus (using an older structure), Aphrodisias, and Side, and those (repaired) at Sagalassos (twice) and Perge. A second group were built masking junctions, but not facing directly down sight lines, as at Ostia (the Bivium), and perhaps at Side. Here, a basin was added to the Monument of Vespasian, whilst the entire structure may also have been rebuilt.220 A third group were set slightly back from the road, within their own plazas, as at Thamugadi, Sufetula (3 fountains, new), Lambaesis, Stobi, and Hierapolis (repaired). This represented a tendency, inherited from Early Imperial fountains, as at Hierapolis, to set nymphaea back from the street, as if to create a sudden episodic experience of water. Fourthly, a single new façade nymphaeum was built at Ephesus entirely enclosed in its own court, although leading off the street. Finally, some were built and repaired along streets, without specific orientation or special plazas, as at Thamugadi, Ostia, and Ephesus (on the Embolos). Thus, we cannot really talk of nymphaea being primarily used to provide a focal point for sight-lines. They could appear in such a position, but a large proportion either decorated a limited / semisecluded area or were set at rather random points along major streets.221 In considering function, it is worth dwelling a little more on the nature of repairs to nymphaea, given that they extend considerably later than new building work, especially in the East. Many of these interventions can be best described as improvements, which were carried out without prejudice to existing elements of these complex structures. This work confirms the popularity of nymphaea, which might so easily have been spoliated for their architectural elements. Fountain basins were expanded at Thamugadi, Mactaris, Scolacium and Ephesus, and improved at Valencia (4th c.?), whilst revetment / painted plaster was provided at Ostia (3 times) and at Antioch in Syria. Repairs to water pipes / supply extend into the 5th c., at Argos, Ephesus, and Laodicea nymphaea, in displaying aedicular architecture and resolving sightlines at junctions: see Segal (2001) 91–118. 220  Nymphaea visible along major streets, rebuilt within squares: Sagalassos, Lower Agora and Hadrianic nymphaeum. Nymphaea rebuilt / built anew, so would be visible down streets: Sufetula, Ephesus (Library of Celsus), Aphrodisias (Gaudin’s Gymnasium) and Side (fountains on side of open air cistern, looking down road to harbour). Nymphaea not facing down sightlines but masking junctions: Ostia (Bivium), Side (Vespasian Monument). See the appendix H1 for references to all. 221  Nymphaea on streets: see appendix H1–H3.

104 (2 times). There are also a few examples of work on existing nymphaea that definitely sought to improve aesthetics. At Laodicea ad Lycum the ‘Severan Nymphaeum A’ has arched coffers, dating to the ‘Late Roman period’, decorated with reliefs of cocks, partridges, and quails, whilst the Caracalla Nymphaeum, in the same city, saw large decorative crosses inscribed on its parapet. Some nymphaea, as at Gortyn, Sagalassos, and Perge, were adapted to serving a storage / water distribution function, with grooves / holes cut in parapets at Sufetula and Perge. Sometimes it is not obvious how water was accessed, as with the Decumanus Fountain at Ostia. Here, a water pipe running across the face of the monument (likely for taps), was removed when marble revetment was added. For the Doric Fountain House at Sagalassos, this transformation involved the negation of its role as a monument, as it became as castellum aquae. However, this was not the case at Sufetula or at Gortyn: here architectural elements remained intact, despite more practical considerations being accommodated. Indeed, it is interesting that later repairs to three nymphaea at Sagalassos involved the re-erection, in whole or part, of their columnar façade, rather than alterations to the basin. The repairs seem to date, in at least one case, perhaps all three, to the post-earthquake period of 500–550, and perpetuate an interest in the façade structures of nymphaea: seen in rebuilding work at Hierapolis in 337–61 (on a fountain that was not originally late antique), and in the nymphaea stuck onto façades in the 5th c. at Ephesus and Aphrodisias. Indeed, the impression we get at both Sagalassos and Ephesus, from the surviving statuary and their Christian modifications, is that, on both streets and squares, nymphaea were maintained as ambitious aediculated façades, full of sculpture, until the 7th c. At the same time, some of the repairs do present a more utilitarian turn, in which the capacity to store and distribute water is given priority over aesthetics. This is obvious when basins are covered with vaults, and also when fore-basins are added, as at Gortyn, Ephesus, and Laodicea ad Lycum, because they can disrupt the view of the original balustrades, notably at Ephesus. One should not see this development in purely negative terms. The 6th c. monumental fountain on the main street at Laodicea is a large tank with well-formed arcaded basins set in its street frontage, which was a wall 2.2 m high, veneered in brick, with no sculpture or architectural ornament behind it. This structure was placed in a very prominent setting, by a city gate on a main road, and so was clearly intended to be a new type of monumental fountain, but still connected in form and

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size to the nymphaea of the past.222 In terms of specific traces of use, basin wear marks are difficult to date, as in many regions the parapets are missing. We can see spolia blocks replacing a worn parapet at Ephesus, on the fountain on the road south of the Upper Agora [340–50], whilst a late nymphaeum at Thamugadi also shows such wear.223 Jacobs and Richard have made a good start recording such traces, although they have tended to track transformation rather than evidence of continued intended use. The grooves inserted into late parapets at Sufetula [364–647] undoubtedly also relate to the direct filling of vessels or some system of pipes, but elsewhere we are sometimes mystified as to how water was drawn from a basin, after friezes were added or some other modification was made. Here, it is perhaps best to profess ignorance, rather than to assert that a nymphaeum was now a stagnant water tank, simply a reflection pool. Water installations are complex and we may be missing part of the system that has not survived. Small-scale traces of wear, repair, and water use around nymphaea do suggest that they were still valued as drawing points, for everyday use. Even so, none were given a line of hand-basins, as on the enclosed ‘Justinianic’ fountain, by the harbour at Side, which we will investigate shortly. There are also examples of destruction. A monumental fountain house at Sagalassos was converted into a castellum aquae, as was a nymphaeum at Perge; another at Apamea was converted into latrines. That on the Lower Agora at Sagalassos also seems to have been empty of water in its final phase: the last drain was a hole roughly cut into the bottom of the basin parapet, at agora paving level. At Ephesus (Nymphaeum of Trajan), the water pipe was robbed in the first quarter of the 6th c.224 An example of spoliation has also been identified at Valencia, from the 5th c., when ornament was stripped from the nymphaeum in the forum, on one side only. Nevertheless, the basin of the same fountain was apparently repaired in the 6th c. [unseen archive report], with a new opus signinum lining. Therefore, the fountain must have remained in use, which is likely to have been true also for those in some other cities in the 222  Note the resemblance between the Laodicea nymphaeum and the late cistern-fountains of Gortyn, discussed below. 223  Worn parapets: Ephesus: wear on some blocks on the inside of balustrade of the nymphaeum on the street on the south side of the Upper Agora: see appendices H1 and H2. In the latter case, the worn blocks are not definitely reused blocks, but occur within a balustrade with much reuse. Thamugadi: slight wear on small nymphaeum, blocking street, on the southern Cardo Maximus: http://www.culture.gouv.fr/public/mistral/ memsmn_fr (last accessed Jan 2013). 224  Conversion of nymphaea to other structures: see appendix H4.

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West in the same period. In Britain, at Carlisle in 685, we hear of a functioning urban fountain, ‘built by the Romans’, which visitors marvelled at. Indeed, aqueduct supplies continued to the leading cities of Visigothic Hispania, and to some large and small cities in Gaul. This suggests that some traditional fountains could have continued to function elsewhere.225 Parallels for Monumental Fountains We should remember that development of street nymphaea represents only one part of the story of monumental fountains in Late Antiquity. Once the great fountains found in street space had few rivals. This was not the case in this period, justifying a digression on fountains in other settings, to which they appear to be strongly related. The elevations of the 4th c. nymphaea from Sufetula seem to present a style consistent with nymphaea found in private houses at Ostia, which also feature façades composed of a single-tier of columns carrying arcades.226 Indeed, monumental fountains, which we would call nymphaea from their form and size, were built anew in a large number of wealthy houses, in Africa, Italy, Macedonia, and Asia Minor, in the 4th– 5th c. These still appear in poetic descriptions of domus / villae, from 6th c. Burgundian Gaul and Vandal Africa.227 225  Nymphaea in the post-Roman West: at Valencia: Martínez Jiménez (2011) 125–44. The post-Roman spoliation of the structure is limited to the western façade, not the northern façade, suggesting deliberate preservation, as the structure was still in use: Albiach R. et al. (2000) 74; spoliation is dated to the 5th c. by Pascual et al. (1997). The dating of the opus signinum depends on generic parallels to other 6th c. opus signinum floors: Martínez Jiménez pers. comm.; at Carlisle: Bede, Life of St. Cuthbert 27. On continuity of aqueduct supplies see n. 233 and n. 247. 226  Sufetula nymphaea: see appendix H1. 227  Monumental fountains, in domus: at Ostia see Danner (2012) 212–19; in Burgundian Gaul, for domus / villae: Venantius Fortunatus (ca. 540–610) Carm. 1.19; in Vandal Africa: Morvillez (2008) for a 4th–5th c. fountain; Luxorious, ca. 500: Anth. Lat. 1.304 and 1.320 (vol. 1, ed. A. Riese) (in the latter case it is not certain the fountain, which reused a sarcophagus, was in a villa / domus). African domus seem to have had modest basins rather than façade nymphaea in their peristyles, as far as can be seen from the gazetteer of Carucci (2007) 107–212; at Carthage (two examples, dated by details of mosaics to the later 4th to 5th c.: Morvillez (2001; 2004); at Stobi (Theodosian palace): Nestorović (1936), summarised by Kitzinger (1946) 119; at Xanthos (built in phase 5b (after 5th c. phase 3, which is dated based on mosaic style similar to church nearby, but before destruction phase 7 of the 7th c. AD), reconstructed in 6th–7th c. AD: Manière-Lévêque (2007b) esp. 490, 492; at Sagalassos (sometime prior to 4th c., but likely after 2nd c. AD when use of brick became common at Sagalassos): Waelkens et al. (2007) 499; at Antioch: façade nymphaea present in several of the houses of Daphne, of different dates: Stillwell (1961) 47–57.

105 These ‘private’ nymphaea, which I have not investigated for this book, tend to have marble basins, façades of arcaded niches (of alternating square and semi-circular form), with projecting marble columns. Enclosed public fountain houses were also built in the East in this period, where the structure was equivalent to a street nymphaeum: such as the new nymphaea at Side (by the harbour), at Ephesus (opposite the stadium), and at Corinth. Here, the Pirene fountain was given a surrounding triconch court sometime in 250–404, prior to a façade colonnade being established, sometime after 379. The arrangement of a nymphaeum within a court opening from the street is really not very different from nymphaea set a little back from a road; this justifies my inclusion of such structures in the preceding discussion. In contrast, fountain houses seen at Ostia, which saw building work during in the 4th–5th c., were not just enclosed structures, but could be physically shut off from the street with a door. They did not resemble façade nymphaea, having basins disassociated from architectural screens. It is perhaps better to think of them as public wash-houses or meeting places than street monuments, although eastern examples of street nymphaea set in courtyards show that it is difficult to make distinctions.228 Monumental fountains were installed in some church atria from the mid 5th c. onwards, at least in large cities. Those built in the 5th c., or shortly afterwards, include some full-size nymphaea. At Rome, the Liber Pontificalis tells us that a nymphaeum and triple portico (nymphaeum et triporticum) was built by Pope Hilarus (AD 461–68) outside of the Oratory of the Holy Cross, attached to the baptistery of St. John Lateran. This seems to have been a classic aediculated nymphaeum: an elaborate porphyry basin featured shells and columns pouring water, surrounded on three sides by bronze railings, and columns with pediments and entablatures. It was decorated by mosaics and columns of Aquitanian, Tripolitanian, and porphyry stone. The triporticum perhaps describes a series of projecting columns set around three sides of a rectangular basin. The only examples recovered by archaeology are from Philippi. The first nymphaeum, dating sometime in 400–537, stood in the atrium west of the Octagon complex, built with reused blocks coming from an imperial Roman building on the east side of the agora. It is large, measuring ca. 17.5 m by 5.5 m. The basin, ca. 15.7 m by 4.2 m, is surrounded by three sets of reused pediments, supported by Ionic columns and bases, forming a rather squat elevation, reaching ca. 7.4 m high. A second more spectacular nymphaeum, from Basilica A, is made of new-cut stone 228  Enclosed nymphaea (‘fountain houses’) of Ostia: see appendix for three examples, with late building work.

106 and dates from sometime within 450–527.229 It covers the full east wall of the atrium, a total width of 18.75– 18.79 m and total height of two storeys ca. 9.5 m, with 6 socles (2 of which were engaged in flanking walls) and 4 niches surrounding a large central niche (4.66 m in diameter). In the façade, there is an alternation of straight and curved entablature pieces, supported by Attic-Ionic impost capitals and (missing) columns on the first storey, with a second storey of smaller columns supporting niches, designed to reach the height of the adjacent wings of the atrium portico. The only water elements seem to have been 4 small basins in the niches of the structure. However, there is nothing as spectacular as Philippi’s two nymphaea, from neither a street nor an agora, within the whole of the Balkans. A new street fountain at Stobi only just qualifies as a nymphaeum from its width, and the suspected fountain from Athens is semi-circular. Furthermore, other church fountains, were far smaller, below the minimum basin width of 4 m needed to qualify for a nymphaeum in my study. One well-preserved example of a small fountain, from Ephesus (Church of St. John), set in an aedicula in a wall of the baptistery, dates from sometime 527–48. The fountain was of brick and mortared rubble walls, with stone ornament, of which the basin was only about 1 m wide, with the total monument ca. 1.35 m wide. It was covered by a pedimental entablature (featuring a cross at its centre) supported by two columns, with a basin fronted by parapets incised with a cross with flaring ends. Another, from Sagalassos, is much smaller, and poorly preserved, dating from 500–650. It is set within an atrium, which was the most usual location for ecclesiastical fountains, although one should not think that church atria commonly had them. At Gerasa, it is believed that the fountain found in the atrium of St. Theodore was the site of miracles reported in a text of 375. The extant remains are of a square basin of 3.2 m by 3.4 m, built in 404–29, which was probably vaulted in 496. At Rome, the Liber Pontificalis tell us that a quadriportico was provided for a fountain outside St. Peter’s in 498–514, which might have involved some kind of roofed structure, unless it referred to the atrium itself. At this last fountain, we hear that the quadriportico was provided with marble and mosaics of lambs, crosses, and palms. We do not hear what the mosaics of the other Lateran ‘nymphaeum’ depicted—but perhaps it was a cross, given that the fountain was a structure adjacent to the Oratory of the Holy Cross. At Philippi, architectural elements of the Basilica A nymphaeum included marble screens carrying reliefs of a large cross and peacocks. The Octagon nymphaeum in the same city had a decorative inscribed cross added to its reused blocks, whilst the 229  Church fountains: see appendix H6.

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small fountain at St. John Ephesus only featured crosses as part of its relief decoration. The popularity of crosses on these church fountains should perhaps lead us to consider that the large red cross painted on the Upper Agora Nymphaeum at Sagalassos [rebuilt 400–614] was added to it because crosses were coming to be associated with nymphaea in ecclesiastical settings. We do not need to see an ‘exorcism’ of ‘pagan structures’ every time that a large decorative cross appears. Perhaps we could reflect that innovation in architectural form had sometimes passed from civic space to churches by the 6th c. The absence of statuary in church nymphaea is worth remarking on: there is no evidence for it, neither from literary sources nor from archaeology. The central niche on the nymphaeum of Basilica A at Philippi may have held a seat, rather than a statue. From here, the bishop could have presided on occasions, perhaps when hearing judicial cases. At Gerasa, the presence of a stone seat against the apse wall of St. Theodore, covered by a vault and railings [built in 496] connected to the fountain of the atrium, suggests something similar. Clearly, the church appreciated the transformative qualities of aquatic display in enclosed spaces, long after they passed a ‘peak’ of investment in public space. Yet, whatever their role, fountains and nymphaea within churches never attained a number to rival those found in private houses or in streets, where, in the East at least, they continued to be maintained until the end of period. Minor Monuments and Investment in Amenity Street Fountains Alongside nymphaea, there were more modest street fountains, with basin widths of 4 m or less (see figs. B25a–d) (Map 8d). From the West, we have new examples on 5 occasions from three sites. Archaeology reveals this at Complutum [450–500, possibly relating to the disuse of a portico], Ostia [at least 3 times, 346–98, 250–512.5, undated], and ?Cuicul [undated before 295]. In terms of repairs to street fountains, there are in total 8 cases from 7 sites (from Africa except one from Rome), all inscriptions, of which 3 can be confirmed or strongly suspected to be from streets. Repairs at Igilgili [317–37], Cuicul [295, at least 2], Uzali Sar [408], Carthage [361], and Civitas A … [290–94] were carried out by a local patron (Uzali Sar) and by curators and legates acting under governors (in other cases). At Rome, an urban prefect was responsible [391–92]. The latest restoration of a public fountain is attested from Thibilis under the Vandals, by a Christian named Felix [430–533]. From the East, we have 13 examples of new fountains from 11 sites, if we exclude Gortyn: at Pergamon (?) [250–614], Knidos [250–614], Laodicea ad Lycum [2: 250–494, 494–610],

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figure b25a–d

a

c

b

d

Street fountains: a. Cuicul; b. Stobi; c. Gortyn; d. Knidos

Cibyra Maior [300–500], Sagalassos [2: both 500–525], Salamis in Cyprus [350–75], Beirut [430–50], Sergiopolis [475–518], Gerasa [293–450], Caesarea Palestinae [400–600], and Ptolemais [undated]. If we include the cistern-fountains of Gortyn there are vastly more, as the city has at least 51, in its comprehensive new water supply system [500–650]. We have only one example of a repair of a fountain so far from the East, from Laodicea ad Lycum [494–610]. This regional distribution of building work, of all types, is somewhat different to that for nymphaea. We can see work on small fountains occurring in a wide spread, from Hispania, via Italy and Africa, to Asia Minor, but with only single examples known for the ‘Balkans’ (Gortyn) and for Egypt. But the Near East is now far more strongly represented, where small fountains were doubtless essential, perhaps more so given that nymphaea here were often designed to use a fraction of their normal water supply, making them of less use as drawing-points. The chronological distribution for the West, if one removes the possibly anomalous case of Complutum, extends from the late 3rd to early 5th c., with Africa over-contributing, on account of its strong epigraphic habit: this tendency memorialised even minor hydraulic repairs during the 4th c. Archaeology is a more

reliable indicator of the real spread of works; it attests to construction activity all across the Mediterranean in the late 3rd to earlier 5th c., and in the East alone into the 6th c.230 Thus, despite attracting a low level of interest from scholars, we can assume that street fountains were retained along with water pipes, in the medium and larger Mediterranean cities which kept their aqueduct supplies.231 Libanius boasts of the street fountains of Antioch: he says many of the (?rows of) shops have them. He also lists the fountains of Nicomedia, within a catalogue (admittedly formulaic) of positive points about the city, after the earthquake of AD 358; Sidonius does the same for Narbonne in the 5th c.232 At Rome, a wellspaced provision of distribution points is confirmed by the Notitia Urbis of the mid 4th c., which records 1352 lacus in the city. This term usually refers to fountains, although it can include nymphaea, and on one occasion 230  Building work on street fountains: see appendix H6. 231  Street fountains: see appendix H6. For minor fountains on fora / agorai, see appendix K7. 232  Street fountains in literary sources, at Antioch: Lib. Or. 11.246 (τῶν πηγῶν/ κρῆναι); at Nicomedia: Lib. Or. 61.17 (κρῆναι); at Narbonne: Sid. Apoll. Carm. 23.

108 refers to a castellum aquae. At Constantinople, unfortunately, street fountains were not considered sufficiently noble to appear in the Notitia Urbis of ca. AD 425.233 An inscription from Sardis of ca. AD 200 provides an inventory of 17 fountains set in public locations, detailing allocations permitted to individuals. This suggests that larger urban centres might have an extensive public network of fountains.234 Late basins at Ostia vary from rectangular shapes 0.90 m by 0.50 m, to 1.37 m by 0.90 m, to semicircles 4 m in diameter. At Cuicul, a restored fountain was 3 m wide, the possible basin at Pergamon measured ca. 2 m by 2 m, that at Knidos 1.5 m by 2 m, that at Laodicea ad Lycum, ca. 2 m by 2 m, that at Side 1.5 m wide, that at Beirut 2.2 m by 1.7 m, and that at Sergiopolis 1.25 m by 1.6 m. The smallest is probably that from Caesarea, a mere ca. 0.5 m in diameter, set within a portico stylobate. The fountain-cisterns of Gortyn vary from 3.05 m by 3.70 m to 14.5 m by 11.86 m (the latter example surviving to 2.82 m high above the modern land surface) but have much smaller access-basins. Theoderic’s cleaning of the aqueducts of Ravenna ensured that the sight of the city’s drinking water would ‘not take away all appetite for food’. This remark, from the pen of Cassiodorus (Var. 5.38), suggests that the primary function of unadorned basins along streets was to provide abundant fresh water for public consumption, especially for slating thirst. At Bordeaux, Ausonius stressed the importance of the great fountain of his city in providing water for drinking. Inscriptions at Didyma, honouring the Proconsul Festus, make clear that the great fountain he restored saved the city from its thirst during the Gothic siege of AD 262/63.235 Regulations survive for Constantinople, from the time of Anastasius, which envisaged that only those with official entitlement to use water sources would be allowed to take water from fountains. Here, it is not certain if use for drinking is meant. Yet, some people did depend upon fountains: conflict could be serious when their supply was reduced, as will be described later. Procopius 233  Fountains maintained beyond Antiquity in imperial and royal capitals: at Constantinople: see Crow, Bardill and Bayliss (2008) 142–43 which says nothing about street fountains, although the extent and continuity of the system is wellestablished; at Ravenna: Cassiod. Var. 5.38 (law of Theoderic); at Rome: in each region of Notitia Urbis Romae; on fountains at churches: see appendix H6. On the term lacus: see del Chicca (1996); CIL 10.5807, commented by Schmölder-Veit (2009) 33, from which I became aware of this issue. 234  Inventory of fountains from Sardis: Buckler and Robinson (1932) no. 17. These fountains are described as being associated with temples, a synagogue, a gymnasium, collegia (μυστηρίοις), a gate, towers, a reservoir (ὑδρείου), and an odeon. 235  Drinking water from nymphaea: at Bordeaux: Auson. Carm. 9.20; at Didyma, late 3rd c.: (Robert (1948) 74–75 = Rehm (1958) 159 = SEG 4.467 = PHI Didyma no. 564.

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claimed that problems with the aqueducts in the capital under Justinian led to people crowding round the fountains with their tongues hanging out.236 Again, worn parapets, on late street fountains at Thamugadi and at Knidos, reflect the passage of buckets and jars dipped daily into the water below.237 In Asia Minor, Richard and Jacobs have identified a number of pragmatic exits for water, cut through balustrades at a lower height, therefore better adapted to the filling of jars. Some of these are visibly secondary and likely late, given their poor aesthetics, although they are not more closely datable.238 Nevertheless, some street fountains were more than utilitarian drinking points. They could be designed to be aesthetically pleasing, like their larger cousins. This is especially obvious in Ostia: a small basin on the rear side of the nymphaeum of the Piazzale della Vittoria [346–89] was lined with marble; it boasted a pedestal for a statue, flanked by two columns, which likely supported a pediment; an undated fountain on Via delle Terme di Mitra had a niche and probably two columns supporting an architrave (a capital has been found); another, at Casa del Garofano [250–512.5] was lined with marble. A fountain restored at Cuicul in 295 had a pedimental canopy, supported by columns, probably covering a statue. At Sagalassos, the 6th c. fountains by the north-west gate consisted of two small niches, one decorated with marble, the other not. An apsidal fountain at Laodicea was restored with a parapet featuring a large cross and vegetal ornament. Gortyn provides perhaps the most interesting examples of decorated fountains. These were built into the sides of a large number of 6th to earlier 7th c. cisterns, which took water directly from the aqueduct system. The outflow for each fountain was set in a small niche decorated with simple geometric decoration, achieved through patterns in the brickwork. No complex cultural message was being offered here. It was just important that the fountain was smart. Yet, the fountain restoration inscription of the Christian Felix at Thibilis (under the Vandals) unashamedly evokes the nymphs in his poem, on an inscription otherwise decorated with Christian symbols of the palm and Chi-Rho. There are other structural clues to the further function of these fountains. At Gortyn, secondary basins were set into the ground, ideal for washing clothes or animal 236  Regulation of use of fountains, Constantinople: Cod. Iust. 11.42.11 (undated). Conflict over water use at Constantinople and near Antioch: see n. 54 in next chapter. Tongues hanging out: Procop. Anecota 26.23. 237  Worn parapets (especially on the inside) as indicating everyday use: Jacobs and Richard (2012) 47; at Thamugadi, heavy wear on balustrade of late fountain basin on Decumanus Maximus: http://www.culture.gouv.fr/public/mistral/memsmn_fr (last accessed Jan 2013). 238  Holes in balustrades for taps and other water outlets: Jacobs and Richard (2012) 46–54.

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drinking. They recall the small basins stood in front of the nymphaeum of this same city, and the sarcophagi placed in front of the nymphaeum at Thamugadi. As noted earlier, stone basins were also set, secondarily, in front of the 5th c. nymphaeum opposite the stadium at Ephesus. At both Gortyn and Thamugadi, these additional basins seem to date within the 6th or early 7th c.239 Elsewhere in Africa, a poet describing life ca. 500, recorded a fountain (possibly within a villa) with a marble sarcophagus used for watering horses. Such secondary basins would have allowed for animals to drink and for objects to be washed, without dirtying the main water basins of fountains, both large and small.240 Finally, there is the possibility that some fountains saw syncretic votive offerings being made towards nymphs / ‘angels above the waters’. Lamp depositions from the Fountain of the Lamps at Corinth, accompanied by mid 5th to 6th c. coins, bear graffiti relating to this cult, invoking the angels Michael and Gabriel. Christian devotions are documented in 4th and 5th c. writings, relating to Phyrgia and Pisidia, whereby church authorities condemned or disapproved of invocations to angels. But we have no indication that this cult activity influenced the design purpose of new-built fountains. For most Christians in this period, there were perhaps only loose ‘mythological’ associations between nymphs and fountains, without any associated religious practices.241 Water Pipes Pipes running along the streets were an essential part of urban water supply, supporting the provision of fountains, and being integrated within roadway design. Excavations confirm that water pipes were installed or renewed, on 3 occasions at 3 sites in the West and on 20 occasions at 11 sites in the East: in Italy, at Brescia [387.5– ca. 550] and Ostia [346–89]; in Africa, at Carthage [387.5–425]; in Illyricum, at Thracian Philippopolis [337–62], Augusta Traiana [450], and Argos [364–616]; in Constantinople [330–94]; in Asia Minor, at Sardis [400– 425], Ephesus (on the Embolos and adjacent streets) [410–36], (on the Embolos again) [sometime in 410–614], (on the Marble Street) [576–601], Laodicea ad Lycum [3 times, 350–412.5, 494–610, 494–614], and Sagalassos [3 times, 450–575; 500–525; 550–650]; in Oriens, Antioch [540–65], Caesarea Palestinae [twice, 400–600, 550–75], Scythopolis [twice, 522, 550–75], Jerusalem [400–614], and Jerusalem again for two streets or more [565–640]. 239  Street fountains: see appendix H6. The animal basin in the Vittoria nymphaeum at Ostia: see appendices H1 and H6. 240  Circus horses use a sarcophagus as a fountain: Luxorious, ca. 500: Anth. Lat. 1.320. 241  Christians and ‘angels’ at fountains: see Rothaus (2000) 126– 34; Saradi and Eliopoulos (2011) 290. It is not a topic I want to consider in detail here.

109 The geographical distribution of works (Map 3) is broadly similar to that for street fountains (Map 8d), except for two points: firstly, Africa is under-represented, as work on piping falls outside the local epigraphic habit, but has not yet been studied by archaeologists, beyond those working at Carthage. Secondly, activity extends markedly later in the Near East, where the later 6th to early 7th c. is still a time of intense maintenance for water pipes, as it is in parts of Asia Minor. A separate wave of work on water pipes, in all cases involving new systems (not included in the totals above), can be seen in areas revived or brought back into the East Roman orbit from the 6th c., at Justiniana Prima [535–616, not part of the initial phase of the city] and Naples [600– 612.5], although we should not forget that Theoderic [reigned 493–526] provided a water supply for the city of Parma, or overlooked a new (stamped) lead pipe leading to Saepinum in Tuscany (Sipicciano) dating to the time of Theodahad [reigned 534–36].242 Water pipes were made of a variety of materials: of terracotta (at Ostia, Argos, Augusta Traiana, Ephesus, Sagalassos, Antioch, Scythopolis, and Caesarea Pales­ tinae, replacing lead in the last case); of connected amphorae (as at Gortyn, [643–68]); of lead (as at Brescia, Naples, Sipicciano, Carthage, Justiniana Prima and Caesarea Palestinae); of cement / plaster at Sagalassos and Jerusalem; and of marble at Constantinople, on the Mese. A silt-trap has been excavated within a late street level at Caesarea, whereby piped water entered a tank where a change in velocity caused particles to drop out of suspension. This was accessed via a manhole cover from the road, which facilitated cleaning. Such features are rarely encountered but suggest careful management of water quality. Individuals could be held responsible financially for water pipes and other conduits on their property. However, there is little or no archaeological evidence to suggest that ad-hoc modifications / repairs were typical features of late street water supply-systems. Rather, we can often see that new piping was installed as part of a large-scale works, undoubtedly carried out by city fathers. It is likely to be the case at Ephesus, where piping runs under and as part of the great area of repaving carried out, on the Embolos and adjacent streets, in 412–436. Indeed, any system of piped water needs to work as an ensemble, and thus requires strategic planning. One gets the strong impression that road repaving and water-pipes went together, except when a sidewalk was added above street paving with the intention of 242  Water pipes: see appendix C12. At Parma, Theoderic (493– 526) provided a water supply: Cassiod. Var. 8.29. At Saepinum in Tuscany (Sipicciano) a lead pipe, with inscription of Theodahad (534–36) was found a few km from the city: NSc (1927) 368 (not seen).

110 setting a water-supply behind it. Sidewalks became a natural home for water pipes, allowing maintenance efforts without disturbing the roadway slabs. This is obvious on the main street for post-Justinianic Antioch, and as is seen at Justiniana Prima, Ephesus, and Sagalassos, for the later 6th c. African inscriptions from Igilgili [317–37] and Cuicul [295] both state that fountains (plural) were being restored in works undertaken, perhaps implying that they celebrated a wholesale restoration of the water supply, including pipework. Furthermore, in a few cases, we can also actually prove large-scale investment from archaeological observation or from reasonable hypothesis. At Sagalassos, several new fountains were built, into the 6th c., helped by an abundance of local springs, alongside new pipe systems. At Caesarea Palestinae, ca. 529–36, the governor Stephanus, repaired the aqueduct so that more fountains could be added to the city, according to Choricius. At Naples, we can envisage a wide programme of renewal in the early 7th c., because a new pipe which was recovered from the harbour district (listed above) bears an inscription naming an ex-consul and Patrician who had repaired it: Agapitus, of a family which had been important under Theoderic. Agapitus does not seem to have repaired the pipe itself, as the entire road was new. Perhaps he paid for it or supervised repairs more widely. At Gortyn, a system of overland channels, with attached cistern-fountains, replaced a network of underground pipes in the period 500–650, but was then followed by a new network of underground pipes in parts of the city in 643–68. With this mid-7th c. intervention, Gortyn provides our latest archaeological confirmation of a major intervention to guarantee a city’s network of street fountains, outside of papal, royal and imperial capitals. Rather, the city had been a provincial capital during Late Antiquity, whilst Naples became the seat of a Duchy in Byzantine times.243 Sometimes there were changes in urban water supply which could have compromised street fountains. At Ostia, problems with the aqueduct supply, during the 3rd c., were compensated by the extensive building of cisterns and some roof-catchment systems. These modifications allowed nymphaea, fountains and baths to continue, but not perhaps with quite the same level of water use as earlier. This is surprising, as the city saw a great deal of secular public and private building in the later 3rd to 4th c. Thus, Ostia faced water supply problems that were beyond the ability of a rich city to resolve, in a region where demand for water remained high. At Naples, the aqueduct was working when it was 243  Repair to water pipes along roads and overland system of Gortyn: see appendix H6.

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cut by Belisarius in 536, after which its beseiged inhabitants relied on wells for drinking water. In Asia Minor, the provincial capital of Sardis seems to have experienced a change, if not a decline, in its water supply, with wells appearing in some parts of the city during the 6th c., whilst the main baths continued to function. Something more drastic happened at Ptolemais, where fortified buildings, thought to date from the 5th c., incorporate large cisterns. These were perhaps used even after the restoration of the city’s aqueduct in the 6th c.244 The fate of Ptolemais’ fountains, excavated along the main street, is not known, but they must have had their supplies cut for some time. A serious archaeology of the end of water supplies is still a long way in the future for most regions of the empire. Given the complexities of maintaining large-scale aquatic provision, it is improbable that the fate of street fountains followed a single trajectory, even within the East. Small cities may not have been able to keep their taps on as easily as regional centres. This is particularly likely to be true in the West, under Germanic rule. Cassiodorus’s comment on cleaning the aqueducts of Ravenna, suggests that provision for street fountains was a priority, rather than supply for baths.245 Elsewhere, the repair of aqueducts seems to have had other motors. In Gaul and Hispania, a few aqueducts did continue in use. Over time, there was a notable diversion of water resources towards the supply of ecclesiastical waterworks such as baptisteries, and, in Hispania, to royal palaces. In Rome, we know that 5th c. popes devoted attention to the provision of fountains outside major churches.246 Whilst it is possible to envisage an ecclesiastical ‘takeover’ in some cases, it is difficult to think that an aqueduct supplying baptisteries would not also have supplied drinking fountains, given the very large quantities of water that aqueducts were capable of providing, and the impossibility of turning them off. Local variations in standards of supply would seem to be characteristic of the period, with the survival of fountains depending on both local aquatic conditions and political will. 244  Problems with urban water supply by fountains: see appendix H5. Naples: Procop. Goth. 1.8. 245  Ravenna, cleaning of aqueducts by Theoderic: Cassiod. Var. 5.38. 246  Survival of aqueducts: Hispania: Martínez Jiménez (2012) 27–42. Gaul: see Rollier (2010) chapter on “La disparition des grands aqueducs: une réalité bien contrastée”, who points to the survival of the aqueduct supply into the post-Roman period at Vienne (6th c.), Lyon (to 6th c.), Cimiez and Poitiers, in several cases associated with the supply of baptismal fonts. Rome: Coates-Stephens (1998), with appendix H6. Britain: survival of an aqueduct at Carlisle in AD 685 is also implied by the Roman fountain recorded by Bede, Life of St. Cuthbert 27 (Baedae opera historica) (not seen).

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figure b25e Sewer pipes and freshwater water channel, laid together with the road paving, at Scythopolis, street by amphitheatre, showing an ?earlier complementary system revealed at a lower level.

Sewers One might wish to confine a study of streets to shady porticoes, elaborate arches and gushing fountains. Yet it is necessary to include sewers, given the contribution they make to maintaining the salubriousness of public space, especially as they tend to be directly associated with streets. Unfortunately, sewer maintenance has rarely been studied by archaeologists in the Mediterranean. Those who do excavate waste-water systems often lack a stable vocabulary, using the terms ‘sewer’ and ‘drain’ interchangeably. This makes it hard to provide a reliable overview of the changing history of waste-water management. For the Oxford English Dictionary, a drain is “a channel or pipe carrying off surplus liquid, especially rainwater or liquid waste”, whilst a sewer is “An underground conduit for carrying off drainage water and waste matter”. Obviously, these definitions overlap slightly. For the purposes of this study, I define a drain as “a channel which takes waste liquid away from one specific building / structure” and a sewer as “a channel taking waste liquid away from a number of buildings and structures”. This is not an entirely happy definition, as the drain of a bath building can be of the same size and technology as a large sewer. However, it does express something of a difference in legal responsibility, as well as the reality that mixed discharge is likely to be generally more unpleasant than single discharge. It is also a definition in

use today, although it is not appropriate to list examples here. One should also be aware that drains tend to contain running water, whereas sewers might hold some static waste that is only intermittently cleared by running water. Finally, it is important not forget a sewer’s major function in removing human waste, whilst drains might take simple roof run off, as well as dirty liquids. Streets and sewers do not have to be associated. The best placing of sewers, operated through gravity, might not coincide with the placing of roads, especially not in a city which had developed over a long period. The contours of relief topography could suggest other routes, following the paths of natural water courses like the Wallbrook in London or the Lycus in Constantinople. However, the reality is that sewers are nearly always associated with streets. This is probably (i) because of a historic tendency to use streets as open sewers and (ii) because streets facilitate easy access for maintenance. Under Roman law, neighbours were given the legal right to access sewers that ran across land belonging to others. It was thus in everyone’s interest that access to them was as straightforward as possible and did not involve damage to property. Thus, sewers were an integral part of street design. We frequently see them built alongside road surfacing, as part of a single plan of works on a major axis, as at Trier, Thracian Philippopolis, Justiniana Prima, Antioch, Apamea, Scythopolis (fig. B25e),

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Caesarea Palestinae, and Jerusalem, perhaps in integration with a new water supply.247 It is worthwhile considering alternatives to drains and sewers, and what circumstances led to them being adopted. Drains and sewers are for waste water evacuation. They are not primarily designed for other forms of waste evacuation, which can be done via rubbish collection or rubbish pits, including cess pits. Ordinary cleaning of stone and mosaic surfaces does not need drains, neither in houses nor in public buildings. Water can evaporate or be mopped up. Drains are in fact something of a liability, being smelly and draughty, acting as entry points for vermin: they are only needed when there is significant surface water which needs to be taken away. This water usually comes from two sources: heavy rain and an artificial water supply. Heavy rain, on its own, is unlikely to lead to the adoption of drains, except where there are very large open paved areas, or in very close-set built environments. Run-off rainwater, coming mainly from roofs, can be used to feed a cistern or can just be allowed to run down the street, as does the overflowing cistern water in Pompeii. The use of drains to move roof water causes serious problems, both in terms of flooding and in terms of stress on sewer infrastructure: to avoid this, as much water as possible must be absorbed by land (via soakaways) or stored (via cisterns), or held for evaporation (via vegetation cover). One might suggest that thunderstorms in the Mediterranean also led to the creation of sewers or that they are connected to land drainage, as in the Roman forum. Yet, I think this concerns only a small number of cases. There are other solutions to the problem of road drainage, as Eric Poehler has demonstrated at Pompeii. Here, many elements of the street system seem to have been conceived largely with surface water drainage in mind. Some roads are ideally positioned for this and also are too narrow for traffic. Paving is often modified to direct water flow in a particular direction.248 Elsewhere, urban roads simply had ditches to hold run off, as in Britain; surrounding properties had to keep raising their thresholds, to keep pace with the height of the street. But what really required the adoption of drains and sewers was the presence of an artificial water supply, as Strabo noted in his description of Roman cities: The sewers, vaulted with close-fitting stones, have in some places left room enough for wagons 247  Sewers and paving built together: see cross references listed in appendix C11. 248  Streets as sewers: Pompeii: Poehler (2012). I would like to thank E. Rowan for reading and commenting on this section on sewers, errors of course remaining my own.

loaded with hay to pass through them. And water is brought into the city through the aqueducts in such quantities that veritable rivers flow through the city and the sewers … Strabo, Geographica 5.3.8, transl. Jones (1917–32)

If one wishes to have large-scale piped water, serving installations which have overflows (fountains) or which need flushing (industrial installations or latrines, baths, public cisterns), then sewers are essential. When one has such drains and sewers, one can of course do new types of cleaning, such as the washing of pavements with buckets and be far less careful about water disposal. Thus, we can see major investments in sewers as the corollary of major investments in artificial water supplies, especially the provision of aqueducts. Which structures used drains in Late Antiquity? Certainly, public baths used large drains connected to sewers, right across the period. The recent Ph.D. thesis of Sadi Marechal has established this, from 4th c. Ostia to 6th c. Abu Mina.249 Dirty water from baths was likely used to flush latrines built within or adjacent to these complexes. Fountains also needed drains: we have a 4th c. nymphaeum with a large drain built on the Forum of Theodosius at Constantinople, whilst we have an older nymphaeum and a new basin at Sagalassos which were given new outflow drains sometime in the 6th c. Furthermore, the cistern-fountains of Gortyn were given drains in the 7th c.250 Some church baptisteries were also given drains into sewers, as at Philippi, where the font had a warm water supply.251 Of other public buildings, there are drains on a possible 4th c. macellum at Ostia, where the stone gutters are set on the paving 2 m or so away from the portico, suggesting that the slabs were being cleaned with water from the adjacent baths. The Forum of Constantine also has a set of drains running under its paving in its primary phase, aligned with the slabs. In these last two cases, we are not dealing with roof drainage but rather water evacuation from external paved surfaces. But the Romans even knew how to cope with water from cleaning internal surfaces, as the laser scanning work of Y. Hori at Ostia reveals: house floors were inclined by millimetres to allow waste water to drain off after washing in a constant direction.252

249  Baths using large drains: Marechal (2016). 250   Fountains with late drains: Cple (Forum of Theodosius): appendix H1 [373]; Sagalassos (Upper Agora): Y1 [525–75]; Sagalassos (Lower Agora): S7a [500–550]; Gortyn cisternfountains: H6 [500–650]. 251  Philippi Baths supply hot water to baptistery: Sodini (2014) 1518, quoting Gounaris (1990) 3–38 (not seen). 252  House floors inclined, Ostia: Hori and Lavan (2015) 637–40.

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Drainage provision for the roofs of public buildings seems to have been irregular. The absence of gutters from most roofs in Pompeii suggests that the norm there was to allow roofs to drain directly in a ‘waterfall’ manner. In private houses, rainwater fell down into gutters on the floor which led into cisterns. However, some downpipes are known, taking roof water directly into cisterns, at both Pompeii and Herculaneum, or into latrines or sewers in three cases at Herculaneum, within Insula Orientalis II. The waterfall system seems to be employed for the 2nd c. palaestra at Ostia, where an open channel, set directly underneath the portico eaves, was placed to collect roof water. This arrangement persisted in many places: a similar drain is present around the late macellum courtyard of Geneva. In Gloucester, in the 4th c., a drain was placed down a narrow ‘eaves passage’, between buildings, surely to collect ‘waterfall’ water which accumulated on the surface there.253 Ceramic drain pipes survive in a few cases, as in the case of the shops built by the baths at Patara [337–62] and the colonnaded street at Aphrodisias [500–614]. Here, drain-pipes were built within the walls, not stuck on them, and can be anticipated elsewhere, being seen already at Herculaneum. In 4th c. Ostia, the addition of basins to the palaestra portico, in the late 3rd or early 4th c., suggests that external downpipes had been added to encourage water storage. Occasionally in the 6th c., as on a market building at Sagalassos, we see late secondary provision made for recessed vertical downpipes, taking water from the roof to the sewer. Something more sophisticated is attested at Justiniana Prima: the design of the portico piers reveals that there were vertical drainpipes taking water from the portico roofs on both sides of its colonnaded streets, with pipes recessed within piers to avoid collisions with carts. Maintenance was now possible when they were recessed rather than being entirely enclosed. Yet, the systematic appearance of recessed vertical drains is unusual: it suggests an evolution of drain technology by the 6th c., to include roof gutters and downpipes. It may not have been very widespread, with direct ‘water-fall’ roof drainage continuing.254

Another category of buildings that might use drains were workshops, carrying on industrial processes which needed vats. We see a repair to a sewer in the 5th–6th c. at Barcelona, associated with a city-centre garum workshop, a facility that must have needed them very badly. Shops at Ephesus enjoyed drains in the 5th–6th c., as did the shops of Sardis. These drains undoubtedly encouraged liquid artisanal processes, as confirmed by vats seen at both sites, and also facilitated the installation of shop latrines in the latter case. At Scythopolis, we see shops along Palladius Street receiving drains in the early 6th c., when the sigma plaza was constructed. This provision was far from universal, however, and the presence of drains should be seen as a mark of well-appointed shop.255 We also find drains coming from townhouses at places as different as 5th c. Mérida and 6th c. Ravenna. Domestic latrines need not be a marker of status. At Pompeii, their distribution is revealing. They are found widely spread in small and medium sized properties, but located in service quarters and rear areas of large houses. This means that chamber pots must have been used by wealthy people,256 even though latrines carried on being found in larger houses, as at Ostia. John Chrysostom fulminated against the silver chamber pots of the wealthy at Antioch / Constantinople. The use of such containers may have been a mark of status, quite the opposite of what we might expect, with our unsmelly U-bend toilets.257 In contrast, we do not often see drains planned to take water from the road paving itself. A good number of streets re-laid in Late Antiquity seem to be without openings in their paving to facilitate surface drainage. Water could either run down the edges, into sewers arranged laterally under sidewalks, as in Jerusalem, or arranged centrally, as at Caesarea Palestinae, or it could simply run along the road surface into infrequent sewer openings. In a few places, one does find manholes in the middle of streets with rosettes for surface water drainage, to keep water off the street, as at Ephesus [side street, 410–36], Laodicea ad Lycum [main street 494– 610], and Justiniana Prima [main street, mid-6th c.], perhaps with a central channel intended to draw water

253  Waterfall drainage, Pompeii houses: Hobson (2009) 117–18; Geneva macellum: appendix W1; Ostia palaestra: K1b. Gloucester, eaves passage: C5. Downpipes at Pompeii: Hobson (2009) 117–18 with fig. 119; Herculaneum: Jansen (1991) 158; for roof water: Rowan (2017) section on ‘preservation conditions’, involving Cardo V sewer. See also Camardo (2008) 419 n. 2; leading to cisterns: Camardo (2007) 168. 254  Downpipe drainage, Aphrodisias, colonnaded street: appendix C3; Sagalassos, market building: L. Lavan site observation 2004; Patara Baths: A7a / J3; Justiniana Prima porticoes: appendix C2; Aphrodisias, colonnaded street: appendix C3.

255  Shops with drains: Ephesus: see appendix C3; Sardis: Y4; Scythopolis: C3. 256  Domestic latrines and chamber pots at Pompeii: Trusler (2017) 381, noting that latrines in larger houses are located in service or rear sections of properties, implying that servants emptied them. 257  Houses with drains: Emerita: see appendix A5c; Ravenna: C11. Ostia latrines: Danner (2012) 220–223. Joh. Chrys. Hom.in Colos. 7.3 (PG 62.347); Hom.in Rom. 11.6 (PG 60.492) both from Leyerle (2009) 340, which is an interesting discussion of sewers and their contents, as seen through Chrysostom’s writings, which I discovered too late in writing to benefit from fully.

114 in, as at Kenchester. In general terms, eastern cities with road surface drains had very good paving, where it was possible to tolerate only a slight camber. On uneven stone road surfaces, or on gravel, which was likely to become uneven, there was often a high camber, as if it was needed for water to slide off. Finally, we can suspect sewer provision for storm water drainage, as in the cases of a very large late sewer along the Tyropean Valley at Jerusalem and another on the Embolos at Ephesus. Admittedly, I have no means of proving this: I suspect it to be true from the large size of sewers and their relationship to the local topography and the size of city quarter they served. Malalas’ account (13.30) of the construction of the Forum of Valens at Antioch makes it clear that flash-flooding was a key consideration in the plaza’s design, leading to a platform being set over an underground channel. Two centuries later, Procopius’ Buildings is also marked by appreciation of the need to plan for flash-flooding by a river, in Justinian’s construction work at Zenobia (3.1.25). In chronological and regional terms, there are some interesting distribution patterns in the construction and maintenance of sewers and their connected drains (map 2). Here, I include small channels within the street called drains in reports. For the late 3rd to early 5th c., we see sewers of all sizes built or renewed in a range of cities, small and large across the West, on 14 occasions at 11 sites, and across the East, on 7 occasions at 7 sites: in Britain, at Gloucester [290–395]; in Gaul, at Rheims [287.5– 300] and at Rodez [287.5–425]; in Germany, at Trier [269–395]; in Hispania, at Barcelona [300–400], Iluro [300–325], and Valencia [300–400]; in Italy, at Rome [375–400]; in Africa, at Belalis Maior [317–439] and especially at Carthage [4 times, 387.5–425 × 3, 387.5–425]; in the Balkans, at Sala in Pannonia [ca. 360], Nicopolis ad Istrum [395–420], Philippopolis [282–307], Thasos [383–408], Athens [300–500], and Argos [387.5–412.5]; in Asia Minor, at Patara [337–62]; in Constantinople [324–60, outside Hagia Sophia]. Here, perhaps the greatest sewer system of Antiquity was under construction. I would date the great Mese sewers to within 330–94 on a number of grounds, but especially because they have an obvious functional relationship to the arrival of the Aqueduct of Valens along this street at the same height, which was sending an awful lot of water to fountains and other installations along this avenue. The Levant is not represented in this list, perhaps because of the intensity of subsequent works, which may have removed or confused those prior to the early 5th c. There is then a dearth of work on sewers dating to the mid to later 5th c. In the East, only at Jerusalem can a new sewer be envisaged, and here the possible dating range is wide [430 to 530]. In the West, only at Carthage has

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repair been traced, in the central ‘Magon quarter’, where maintenance works to a sewer are known sometime in 412.5–37.5 and from sometime in 412.5–650. Rather, the West sees many cities experience a downgrading of their sewers, whereby the appearance of beaten earth surfaces corresponds with the blocking of underground conduits. At Chichester, drains collapsed and silted up, likely at the end of the 4th or beginning of the 5th c. [387.5–412.5]. At Milan, sewer excavations suggest we should set the blocking of drains and silting no earlier than the end of the 5th c. Other sites show more positive developments. At Aix (on Decumanus 1), roadside ditches replaced the drainage system provided by nowblocked sewers [375–525], whilst at Mérida (nº 11 de la calle Almendralejo) new drains were laid out within new beaten earth surfaces [450–550]. In a few cases, modifications to sewers or water features connected to sewers show that waste water channels survived, as seen in 5th– 6th c. Barcelona [400–600] and in late 6th c. Valencia [535–60]; in the latter case, they apparently continued to function deep into the Islamic period.258 We do not yet know from excavated examples when smaller cities lost their sewers, or how quickly they clogged up in the West. However, our record of the downgrading of western streets in the 5th c. can provide part of the answer. Beaten earth surfaces would probably only have accumulated if sewers had become blocked. This allows us to place the blocking of sewers in the 5th c. for Mérida and sometime in the later 4th to 6th c. at Sufetula. Even so, such down-grading was far from universal in the West, as the sewers of Ravenna and Carthage show. In some large centres, cleaning of stone surfaces even persisted into the 8th c., as at Rome, in the Forum of Nerva. This indicates the functioning of sewers, still taking surface water away to prevent the build-up of mud. The 6th c. sees a massive recovery in investment in sewers, with a special focus on capitals and imperial foundations, rather than on all types of cities. At Carthage [5 times, 550–698, 500–698 × 2, 387.5–650, 487.5–512.5] and Ravenna [for Classe 526–550, 526–712.5] we see repaired or new sewer systems, extending to back streets in the case of the African metropolis. Justiniana Prima [6 times, 535–615, 535–73 × 4 times, 544–616] has a beautifully-planned set of new sewers. They have also been seen in contemporary building at Sergiopolis. Gortyn also has at least one new example on a principal street [built 570–95]. Constantinople sees major sewers of grand proportions of 6th c. date [532–37], whilst 258  Blocking of sewers and drains: Chichester: see appendix A5b; Milan: C9b and C10b; Aix: A6; Emerita: A5c; Nicopolis ad Istrum: C11. Sewer survival: Barcelona: see appendix C11; Valencia: A2a.

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Antioch was given new conduits for its main street after the Persian sack of 540 [540–65], as was the Justinianic cardo extension at Jerusalem [500–543]. Elsewhere, work is rather less well-diffused than it was in the 4th c., with the provincial capitals of Apamea [487.5–512.5], Scythopolis [522], and Caesarea Palestinae [550–75] all obtaining new sewers in the Levant, and only Laodicea ad Lycum [494–610], again a metropolis, producing evidence so far in Asia Minor. It looks like the sewer construction retreated somewhat, with many other things, into the technological repertoire of secular imperial building projects, with a few outliers. Whilst the 7th c. is often associated with the loss of ancient road surfaces under beaten earth, we have one example of sewer repair in a classical manner, reminiscent of Late Antiquity. At Gortyn, a drain was established in the street through the Pythion quarter, within the first half of the 7th c. Furthermore, under a major north-south street in the ‘Christian quarter’, a sewer was repaired within 643–68. At Classe, the second sewer system was also created in the main street, installed to replace a mid-6th c. system; it may date from the 7th and perhaps the early 8th c. Finally, at Naples, the laying of the new water pipe onto reclaimed land in the early 7th c. was probably also accompanied by a sewer. This evidence suggests that Middle Byzantium never gave up its sewers. ‘Decent drains’ could have been a mark of effective urban administration wherever Dark Age Constantinople managed to retain its influence. The people who still lived in these cities were not smelly medieval Christians embracing organic primitivism but church-going heirs of Rome, who appreciated and understood the importance of waste water management. What one experienced elsewhere, within regions under Byzantine control, was not a cultural choice but a symptom of poverty.259 Where sections of major sewers have been recorded, they appear to equal the size of those of earlier centuries (figs. B26a–b). At Constantinople, the north-south road in front of Theodosian Hagia Sophia contains a sewer [324–60], the dimensions of which are not fully known. The figures are likely to be 2.2 m wide and ca. 3.75 m deep, if the vault inclination, as shown in the site section drawing, is a guide to its size, and if it was the same shape as neighbouring sewers. The sewers of the Mese [330–94] measure 1.6 m wide and 2 m high, at the point where they cross the Forum of Constantine. Lower down the same avenue, a second sewer [532–37] measures 1.8 m wide. Its depth, not excavated but estimated from other sewer profiles, is likely to have been ca. 3.4 m. At Jerusalem, the secondary cardo had vaulted 259  Water pipes: see appendix C12.

115 drains ca. 1.18 m wide and at least 2.45 m high, in a street dated to ca. 430 to ca. 530. At Nicopolis ad Istrum, a 5th c. sewer [395–420] exiting from the main gate measured 0.92 m wide and 1.5 m high. It was brick vaulted and stone paved, like those of Constantinople. Precise comparison is difficult, as we cannot always locate the largest sewers in a system, but overall continuity can be asserted. Thus, another from Justinianic Antioch [540–65], along its main street, measures a more modest 0.35 m wide and 0.65 m high. Bigger sewers surely existed within the same city to take the flood waters of the Parmenios away, which posed a serious risk to the monumental centre of the city.260 A minor road sewer from 4th–5th c. Athens measures 0.5 m wide and 1 m high, whilst one from 6th c. Ravenna measured 0.7 m wide and ca. 1 m high. This was just under the common size for main sewers on the major avenues of larger cities (ca. 0.65 m wide and 1.2 m deep), whilst main sewers of smaller cities were about half that size. The drains that ran from buildings into sewers were also of different sizes, adapted to purpose. In most cases, those from individual structures were rarely more than about 0.15 m wide, unless set to drain a water-retaining area, such as a fountain, in which case they would be larger. The drain of the nymphaeum in the Forum of Theodosius at Constantinople was 0.5–0.6 m wide. The public cisterns of Constantinople probably needed very big outlets. What happened if a dead dog or drunken tramp fell into the Basilica Cistern or if a wall collapsed or needed repair? The urban authorities might need to drain a whole cistern. So far, the study of the capital’s water supply suggests that water channels were used, not sewers, except perhaps in the case of the draining of the Hippodrome. The massive outflow of water from baths and fountain basins would have cleaned everything in its path, but also have tested the system to its limits. Such potentially messy events could have taught those responsible a great deal about hydraulics and the structures required to contain exceptional flows.261 In terms of design, sewers are quite different from clean water conduits, which occur in two forms: the first as ceramic pipes, purpose-made or composed of amphorae, the second as channels lined with waterproof cement, of the type used for cisterns and aqueducts. Sewers in contrast, are usually basic stone-lined rectangular channels, with heavy well-coursed stone blocks making up the sides. Builders were probably not concerned so much with leakage into the surrounding earth, a problem with a constant water supply, but 260  Sewers: see appendix C11. 261  Cisterns, Hippodrome and draining of Constantinople: J. Crow pers. comm. 2018.

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Constantinople Hagia Sophia

Apamea

Portico Roadway

Portico Roadway

Caesarea Palestinae Portico

Roadway

Constantinople Milion Sondage Portico

Jerusalem

Roadway 2 and sidewalk Portico

Roadway Roadway 1

Athens Roadway

Constantinople Mese

Roadway

Pompeii Sewers

Trier

Roadway

0

10m

figure b26a–B Constantinople (west side of Hagia Sophia); Constantinople (Milion Sondage), Constantinople (Mese); Trier; Apamea; Caesarea Palestinae; Jerusalem (Cardo); Athens; Pompeii, comparative sections of sewers

rather with the failure of the side walls of sewers under the sudden pressure of irregular but massive discharges, which would flow rather than soak. Wood is encountered as a building material for 4th c. sewers / drains at Rheims and at Gloucester (as planks 5 m long), in both cases on minor roads. At Classe in the 6th c., side streets also show a variety of waste water pipes: here we have brick drains and also ceramic tube drains. Stone-lined sewers are usually capped with stone slabs or, especially when over 0.6 m in width, with stone or brick vaults. A few sewers are lined with plaster, although this is not

common. On some late antique sites, clean water and dirty water channels actually occur on top of each other, as at Scythopolis (street by amphitheatre) [522, clean on top] and Jerusalem (Tyropoeon Valley) [565–640, dirty on top], suggesting that, as in earlier times, an artificial water supply might be used to flush sewers. According to Mamboury, the Mese sewers at Constantinople were covered by a sandstone paving that supported a water channel in marble. This sounds like the same arrangement. Some sewers might have needed ventilation into the roadway in case flood waters became so great that

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bursting was a risk. This is visible at Ephesus, where pavement holes open into sewers, at the bottom of steep side streets, cut into the risers of steps. These features were retained in the late antique street, although they derive from an earlier Roman system.262 It is difficult to speculate on the internal design of sewers, which is only really understood systematically at Pompeii and Herculaneum.263 My own ability to recognise adaptations is limited. Furthermore, very few sewers and drains have been excavated for any considerable length. One can at least talk about design features being included to assist cleaning: at Constantinople, the double sewers which ran along the Mese [built 330–94] had two projections on each side on the upright walls of the sewer, ostensibly to allow planks to be inserted to facilitate access for cleaning. They also featured connection passages between the two channels. Manhole access points are visible on plans of the Forum of Constantine and on plans documenting the great sewers which ran in front of Hagia Sophia [324–60]. At Ephesus, the late paving of the Clivus Sacer [410–436] includes a manhole cap with a surviving iron ring, whilst very complex manholes, giving access to sewer junctions, have been recorded for Caesarea Palestinae [550–75] and in the upper city of Justiniana Prima [535–615]. A more interesting question is the design of drain networks in relation to sewers, but this can only be studied in a few places. The drains of Justiniana Prima stand out as being a planned drainage system. The engineer involved not only tried to maximise roof and road drainage but spaced the drains once every two or three intercolumniations, perhaps to avoid sewer blockages. The Mese drains of the capital were likely the inspiration for these works. Here, drains from the street entered the sewer every 40 m. It is clear that sewers were still being built, by people who understood how to make them function properly, without their discharges overflowing, depositing residue, or eroding infrastructure. Literary sources suggest that educated people appreciated the function of sewers. Augustine clearly understands their benefits to public health. In refuting Manichean dualism, he notes the efficacy of sewers, in bringing good, despite their dark nature: Strange, that filthy sewers should breed a cleaner sort than dark closets! August. c. Faust. 19.24, transl. Schaff (1886–1900).

John Chrysostom, ever observant, notes that the blocking of sewers leads to disease. He explains this through

262  Ephesus pavement holes: L. Lavan site observation April 2013. 263  Sewers of Pompeii and Herculaneum: Poehler (2012) 104–12; Camarado (2007) 177–83.

a metaphor concerning the vice of overeating and its effects on the body and soul. The drains in our streets we take care to keep unobstructed…. To obstruct the sewers is to breed a pestilence; but if a stench from without is pestilential, that which is pent up within the body, and cannot find a vent, what disorders must it not produce both to body and soul? Joh. Chrys. Hom in 1 Tim. 13.4 (PG 62.570), transl. Schaff (1886–1900)

He also has a very clear idea of what clogs them … … in the sewers, where there is accumulation of refuse, of dung, hay, stubble, stones, clay, frequent stoppages occur; and then the stream of filth overflows at the top. Joh. Chyrs. Hom in 2 Cor. 12.6 (PG 61.490), transl. Schaff (1886–1900)

… and what to do about it: We cleanse our sewers with poles and drags, that they may not be stopped, or overflow, but the canals of our bodies we do not keep clear, but obstruct and choke them up. Joh. Chrys. Hom in 1 Tim. 13.4 (PG 62.570), transl. Schaff (1886–1900)

Salvian too (Salv. Gub. Dei 7.17) saw cleaning in the 5th c. West. Finally, Procopius (Anec. 19.3), managed a memorable metaphor for the financial policy of Justinian: after the emperor had drunk the waters of the Bosphorus dry, the sewers of Byzantium were still able to provide him with a diet of rubbish and filth. At a legal and municipal level, sewer management was part of everyday life, right across the period. Julian of Ascalon, writing a manual of urban building regulations in 6th c. Palestine, is very aware of the uses and maintenance of sewers (41–46), implying that the functioning of the sewers was a matter for law and for the civic authorities. Legal evidence pertinent to the period presents sewer maintenance as a private matter, regulated by law, in the public interest. An edict of Ulpian, preserved in the Digest, envisages that individuals might clean sewers, without the need of forewarning others. In the same edict, private individuals were also allowed to connect their drains to public sewers without interference. However, Justinian’s Institutes stated that no-one was obliged to accept droppings and currents from another person’s activity into his house, grounds or sewer.264 264  Cleaning of sewers: private persons can do it without forewarning others: Ulpian, ad edictum 52 (Dig. 39.1.5.13); private

118 Julian of Ascalon implies that the use of sewers is mandatory: he states that no dirty water can be allowed to come from a house into a street, square or other public space. This concern, possibly contradicted by the Liber Syro-Romanus, mirrors regulations copied into the Digest, against dumping rubbish in the street. Julian’s text does seem, therefore, to represent a norm that the State aspired to.265 It had been normal to use the street as an open drain, in Greek cities before Rome and in villages under Rome. But control of such fluids was an integral part of Roman urban street design. This aim was carried into Late Antiquity. I do not say that nothing was ever dumped in the road to wash away, but that drainage systems were often provided to contain such discharges. It was of course necessary to give property owners responsibility for maintaining sewers. There is, after all, nothing like forcing someone to unblock a sewer to encourage them to use it appropriately. Libanius’ shopkeepers, in later 4th c. Antioch, were obliged to clean sewers personally, or pay others for the service. Enforced payments would have provided a way for civic authorities to plan works in a more systematic manner. Thus, for Athalaric, ca. 527, the cleaning of the sewers was the responsibility of the ‘honorati possessoribus’ and curiales of Parma, although they could no doubt coerce residents to undertake it. For Justinian in 530, it was the responsibility of the bishop, governors, and leading landowners, which they should not cede to palatine imperial officials. However, it is uncertain if civic involvement led to tendering for contracts or, alternatively, to a city corps of sewer cleaners. Chrysostom, writing about Constantinople or Antioch ca. 400, mentions street cleaners (koprônai) whom he implies are of low status. They may have had to tackle sewer blockings. He lists them, alongside bath attendants and runaway slaves, as being involved in fire-fighting. Perhaps, in the eastern capital, there existed a corps of sewer cleaners, branded for identification in the same way as were aqueduct staff, who might undertake the scouring of conduits if the latter did not already do it.266 persons get access to clean sewer in neighbouring property: 71 (Dig. 43.23.1.12); can attach private sewer to public sewer: 71 (Dig. 43.23.1.9); no-one obliged to accept waste of others into their sewers etc.: Inst. Iust. 2.3.1 (published 21 November AD 533, based on earlier Roman law). See Saliou (1994) 162–67, with related laws. 265  Public regulation: no dirty water in street: Julian of Ascalon, 46.4; possible contradiction: Liber Syro-Romanus (Vööbus (1982) edn.) 157, which envisages doors, windows and drains giving into the street, without stating if the latter were buried; dumping in the street: Dig. 43.10.1.4–5. 266  Responsibility for organised sewer cleaning: Lib. Or. 46.21 (though the word ὀχετός could be applied to aqueducts as well as sewers, with thanks to C. Saliou); Cassiod. Var. 8.29–30

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Chrysostom’s metaphors on sewers also suggest a preventative concern for maintenance, to avoid pestilence, and he also shows an awareness of the dangers of flash-flooding. … when a flood of water has risen, and has surmounted the entrances of the workshops, we see all the inmates in confusion, and using tubs and pitchers and sponges, and many other contrivances to bale it out, that it may not both undermine the building, and spoil all that is contained in it: so it is when luxury overwhelms the soul; its reasonings within are disturbed. What is already collected, cannot be discharged, and by the introduction of more, a violent storm is raised.’ Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Ep. 1 ad Tim. 13.3 (PG 62.568)

The bishop cannot have been the only educated person to have had this understanding. Those involved in city councils must also have been aware of the importance of avoiding such damaging events. Perhaps the best argument for civic involvement comes from the specialised design of some sewers, such as the Mese with its regular access hatches and projecting consoles to support planks, or the elaborate manholes of Caesarea Palestinae. These features reflect large-scale rather than localised interventions. Sewers were not just a matter for private individuals living along streets, as might be suggested by acts of litigation, implied by the legal evidence. Perhaps this is why we have an inscribed manhole from Aphrodisias, of which the only world legible was ‘filth’. This inscription probably informed the public, or an inspecting team, about some danger or prohibition related to sewer maintenance, or perhaps commemorated an act of improvement. Maintenance was a public matter, which those not immediately close to a sewer needed to know about.267 Urban sewers even left something of an imprint in the wider imagination and culture of the age. It is clear from literary references that sewers were regarded with some horror, reserved for metaphors of all that was unsavoury. They were not a place to escape to, as in modern novels about Antiquity. One could enter a city by crawling through an aqueduct channel or hide in a cistern to escape slaughter, but few people would venture into the sewers, which were dangerous places with pestilential smells. Gothic soldiers at Philadelphia in Lydia took (AD 527); Cod. Iust. 1.4.26 (AD 530). Street cleaners (koprwnai): Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Eph. 10.2 (PG 62.77). 267  Sewer cover: ALA 216, a circular white marble panel, which Roueché considers late on account, it seems, of the irregular letters and cursive sigma used.

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refuge in them when attacked by Egyptian soldiers, but died there. Sewers were rather places to punish people: we find bishop Marcus of Arethusa thrown into a sewer as part of his humiliation by a mob under Julian.268 Sewers also provided literary metaphors. For Sidonius Apollinaris, they could describe a man of bad character: both became fouler the more you stirred them. To John Cassian, the recollection of past sins was to be avoided, as much as standing over or stirring a sewer, as both activities risked suffocating a man. For Clement of Alexandria, the contents of privies revealed the true nature of gluttony, as vain dainty dishes turned, with time, into all that was foul. The same sentiment was echoed by Agathias in the mid-6th c., in verses perhaps displayed in the latrine he restored at Smyrna, where he served as pater.269 At the same time, the writings of Augustine, like those of Chrysostom discussed earlier, point to an appreciation of the function and the benefits of waste conduits. Augustine shows admiration for the architectural form of the urban sewer, penetrated by shafts of sunlight, in a metaphor on the power of God’s love in the incarnation. He noted that even in a sewer, the rays of the sun are not defiled. So it is with God’s nature, which is not affected by contact with a human womb: nothing physical can be an obstacle to divine redemption. Street Cleaning Sewers obviously had to be cleaned effectively or they would block completely, carpeting the roads in filth. That said, it is not easy to judge the efficacy of surface cleaning. Irregular reactive street cleaning, such as that carried out at Rome in the Late Republic, would have eliminated unsightly waste from the archaeological record as effectively as weekly cleaning.270 Perhaps, as today, such cleaning would have been fitful, depending on local political will. Justinian’s Digest retains a definition of street cleaning that involves removing whatever has been deposited upon the road surface. Augustine reminds us, in two metaphors, that streets could be far from perfect. He recalls seeing ‘filthy but bright-coloured animal refuse which is thrown out in the streets’. The discarded lees from olive pressing could also been seen 268  Sewers as places of last resort, punishment: for Goths at Philadelphia: Zos. 4.31.4; for Marcus of Arethusa: Greg. Naz. Or. 4.89 (PG 35.620) (sewers = ὑπόνομοι) / Theod. Hist. Eccl. 3.3 (who notes their stinking nature). 269  Sewers and bad character: Sid. Apoll. Ep. 3.13 (AD 469). Risk of suffocation from contemplating sins past: John Cassian Conferences 20.10. Truth of gluttony in privies: Clem. Paed. 3.3.7 (PG 8.247–684). Agathias: Anth. Graec. 9.642–43 (also moralising in tone); 9.662 (latrine restoration). 270  Rome, street cleaning: Lex Municipalis 36–47, part of a collection of laws, known as the Tables of Heraclea, which reached its final form in the mid-1st c. BC.

119 to ‘run openly down the streets’ (per plateas currit) in some places.271 However, it is not necessary to imagine from these few metaphors that all Roman streets were covered in horse dung or puddles of slime. The presence of gameboards, carved on the roadway slabs of main avenues in many cities, suggests that such conditions did not extend everywhere. There may have been places where one would rather not have sat, especially in winter, but how common they were is anyone’s guess. In East Mediterranean cities, the level of aesthetic investment in roads and porticoes only makes sense if there was a strong desire to keep the streets clean. One might imagine that some cleaning was done by scavengers or by the rain. At present, I do not know of textual references to large-scale rubbish collection. Yet, some sort of organised service, whether public or private, seems to be implied by the extensive secondary rubbish deposits found outside of Roman cities. The mixed nature of such levels and their spatial separation from the city suggests collective action. The neglect of these mixed dumps by excavators makes this a topic we cannot yet explore: we find such deposits more commonly reused as landfill within cities. Libanius at least implies that there were some civic-owned camels, mules, and donkeys in 4th c. Antioch, which could be used for transporting building waste. Such animals could presumably also carry away other forms of rubbish if needed. This would not have excluded rubbish removal carried out ad hoc by magistrates. On one occasion, in the same city, they requisitioned farmers’ delivery animals for this purpose, a matter addressed in an oration of protest by Libanius. In Late Republican Rome, the aediles had the right to engage private contractors, billed to negligent owners, to maintain street surfaces (tuitio). It is possible that similar arrangements also developed to deal with cleaning (purgatio) when individuals failed to take responsibility.272 One might imagine a magistrate, faced by a heap of stinking butcher’s waste (as in Digest 43.10.1.5), demanding an immediate solution, more subtle and reliable than compelling bystanders. The Digest suggests that his right to proceed might be curtailed by the legal status of a road (as a public or private road), leaving some parts of the city cleaner

271  Definition of street cleaning: Dig. 43.11.1.1 (Ulpian, Edict 68). Augustine’s street filth: de moribus ecclesiae catholicae et de moribus Manichaeorum 2.16 (42) (PL 32.1363); En. in Ps. 80.1 (PL 37.1033). 272  Antioch, rubble collection enforced on private donkeys, mules, and camels (by servants of governors), though they could use those of civic estates: Lib. Or. 50 (50.2–5 especially). Commentary by Liebeschuetz (2000) 51–61. Rome, private contractors, under Caesar: Lex Municipalis 36–47.

120 than others, although we cannot confirm this yet from archaeological case studies.273 Lighting Major colonnaded avenues might benefit from the light provided by civic oil lamps.274 In Late Antiquity, the greatest cities of the East seem to have had this provision: it was present at Ephesus, Antioch, Apamea, Edessa, and Alexandria, reaching Constantinople in ca. 440, where it caused a sensation.275 There were no lights in Caesarea in Cappadocia, during the time of Basil, who imagined that all cities everywhere were lit by moonlight. The Alexandrians called other cities ‘the lampless’, as late as 516/17, whilst Libanius, in 356, fancied Antioch as the only city in the world to have street lighting. Indeed, the Caesar Gallus (351–54) was utterly unused to street lighting at Antioch, despite having travelled widely. Augustine makes no mention of it, neither for Carthage nor for other African cities, despite using lamps as metaphors in his writings. In consequence, a single reference by Procopius, to the streets of Carthage being lit all night on the evening of its reconquest, cannot be taken as confirming the existence of a system of street lamps. Organised provision is also unknown for Rome. It is likely that specific public buildings, along with entrances to houses and shops, were lit here. Early Imperial texts describe this for the city whilst archaeology attests to it at Pompeii. Yet, we do not hear of any changes at Rome in Late Antiquity comparable to developments at Constantinople. Given that street lights only reached the eastern capital in the mid-5th c., we can conclude that this development missed Rome. However, it is possible, once Constantinople adopted the habit, that lighting was increasingly common in the East: glass 273  On the legal status of roads, public and private and possible implications for the control of officials, see Saliou (2005) 66–67. 274  Street lighting: see Siedel (2009) 91–121 for a good wider discussion. I thank C. Saliou for this reference, which I obtained after completing my study. I have here responded to differences in our interpretations. 275  Lamps: at Constantinople: introduced by Cyrus of Panopolis (PLRE 2 Cyrus 7) when Praetorian Prefect and Urban Prefect Cyrus in AD 439–442 according to Malalas 14.22, Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 307 (AD 450), with comments and references on career of Cyrus in the edition by Whitby and Whitby (1989) on 78–79, p. 261; at Ephesus: Feissel (1999); at Antioch: Lib. Or. 11.267; Ammianus 14.1.9 (concerning Gallus). For other cities, see below; at Alexandria, whose inhabitants derided cities as ‘lampless’: Severus of Antioch, Ep. 46 (to Hippocrates Scholasticus) (PO 12.318) (AD 516/17). I do not think that 5th– 6th c. attestations of oil given for street lighting in Egypt prove systematic street lighting outside of Alexandria: Seidel (2009) 117–18; at Apamea: van Rengen (1999) 91; Schmidt-Colinet and Hess (2013).

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street lamps are attested, during the reign of Justinian, by Choricius at Gaza, which was not a provincial capital. Furthermore, Choricius expected visitors from other cities to be familiar with them.276 In a report which may concern Antioch, Jerome mentions a theological dispute which was broken up when the street lamps were lit, suggesting that this was a coordinated event. In the later 4th c., lighting up at Antioch was carried out by shop occupants, but was policed by night watchmen, to prevent them from delaying, and thus economising on oil.277 The frequency of lamps might vary. The city of Edessa, in 504/505, could have run 180 lamps for a year on the oil that was dedicated to its porticoes, according to the calculations of Seidel. This is impressive but would not have reached beyond the main avenues. At Ephesus, lamps seem to have been set 20 m apart on the Arcadiane, if one divides the number of lamps (50) attested in an inscription by the length of the street they lit (500 m). For this, we must allow one lamp for each side of the road, as Feissel has done. But a graffito from the adjacent theatre depicts an arcaded portico, very likely the Arcadiane, with one lamp per intercolumniation (fig. B26c). Another depiction suggests such provision was exceptional: on the mid 5th c. Yakto mosaic, depicting Antioch, an arcaded street portico (a façade opening into a courtyard) is shown as having one, or possibly two, lamps hanging between every intercolumniation, (fig. B26d). From Apamea, close to the crossing of the axial streets, comes a detailed inscription, not yet fully published, with lines painted alternately in red and green. It describes how in 470 the city had 1,000 public oil lamps.278 276  Diffusion of lamps: Caesarea in Cappadocia: Basil hex. 6.10 (PG 29.145) (ἄγυιαι for streets); Gallus: see previous note; Africa: August. de Trinitate 11.2.4 (PL 42.987); de baptismo contra Donatistas 4.20 (27) (PL 43.172); Ep. 102.24 (AD 409) (PL 33.380); de moribus ecclesiae catholicae et de moribus Manichaeorum 2.16 (42) (PL 32.1363); Carthage: Procop. Vand. 1.20.1; Rome: Seidel (2009) 106–108. Gaza: Choricius Or. 2.63. 277  Lighting up at Antioch: Jer. Dialogus contra Luciferianos 1 (PL 23.163); Lib. Or. 33.35–37. 278  Selective lighting: Edessa: Seidel (2009) 116 based on Josh. Styl. 87 (AD 504/505), which records 6,800 sextarii / ca. 4,080 litres of oil being transferred from the oil store to lighting the porticoes; Ephesus, Arcadiane lamps inscription: Feissel (1999) 27 (IvE 2.557). Feissel states that he knows of no reason why the inscription should be later than the time of Arcadius, whose name is given to the street to be lit. However, there is nothing in the inscription tying it to this time, apart perhaps from the cross at the beginning, which does not have splayed ends and thus perhaps dates from before the second half of the 5th c., based on parallels with decoration in artefacts: see e.g. Hayes (1997) 62. Graffito: see Seidel (2009) 114–15. Antioch, Yakto mosaics: Lassus (1934). Apamea: van Rengen W. (1999) 91; Schmidt-Colinet and Hess (2013). Painted acclamations on lamps, Gaza: Choricius Or. 2.63. Lamps encouraging women to

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figure b26c Street lighting, Ephesus, drawing from theatre, overlooking the Arcadiane

figure b26d Street lighting, Antioch 480s (Yakto mosaic)

The Apamean inscription names the places that the oil lamps lit, including the theatre and perhaps a basilica, suggesting a selective or enhanced illumination of major monuments. It is notable that the Yakto mosaic shows no other street lighting on its depiction of the colonnaded avenues of this great city, only lamps around one building. So, one might imagine that the façades of prominent buildings could be given more intense illumination than ordinary porticoes. This could account for a remark by Libanius which concerns lamps outside public baths, as if they were unusual. It might also explain how in AD 386 a governor of the same city ordered the lighting outside of shops to be tripled: perhaps he asked for more intercolumniations to be lit. Indeed, Libanius does not mention street lights at all in his panegyric on the great colonnaded avenues. Perhaps they were not uniformly well-lit in his day, or not as well-lit as individual public buildings. By the time of Choricius, glass lamps at Gaza were being used to theatrical effect: acclamations wishing many years to the emperor, the empress, and the bishop were painted onto them, presumably in reverse, so that they could cast shadows onto come out: Choricius Or. 2.67 (although if one reads on it may mean simply that the conditions of the festival are amenable to women coming out).

121 the walls of porticoes. Choricius also seems to imply, from the position of his remarks within the wider text, that a consequence of street lighting was that women who normally stayed at home felt able to appear in public. Perhaps street lighting could be liberating for those bound by social restrictions in the evening.279 It seems that there were in fact more street lamps in Late Antiquity than in earlier periods, although this should not be accepted without qualification. On the one hand, we hear of a ‘Dark Street’ given lamps at Ephesus and of a governor of Edessa in 504/505 who moved lamps burning public oil from a martyrium to the city’s colonnades (from whence they had perhaps been transferred by the bishop?).280 On the other hand, we have a remark from Procopius’ Anecdota that Justinian’s confiscation of civic taxes led to the abolition of street lighting. Given that Procopius often exaggerates, we should not make too much of his report. Nonetheless, I know of no attestations of street lighting after this time.281 Urban lamps were something of a luxury and thus always likely to be vulnerable. We should perhaps envisage that there were only a specific number of hours lit per week, and that not every evening was equally well-illuminated. Pseudo-Joshua Stylites records a public instruction at Edessa in 496/97 that 5 lamps were to be hung with crosses outside the stalls / shops on Saturday evenings, suggesting that here they were perhaps only lit for a single night per week.282 279  Lamps outside entrances to baths are unusual: Lib. Or. 16.41; lamps cut down by rioters, outside a public bath (rather than everywhere): Or. 22.6; discussed by Downey (1961) 627–28, who from the reference to ‘adjacent the dikastèrion (praetorium)’ and ‘overturned imperial statues’ suggests it is in a plaza, either the Hellenistic agora or the Forum of Valens, but cannot decide which; Lib. Or. 19.36 suggests it is the latter, as the governor whose announcement provoked the riot was the consularis Syriae (not the comes Orientis who hears of the disturbances); yet in the Forum of Valens the only baths were those which had been converted into the praetorium itself (Malalas 13.30). Lighting outside the shops to be tripled: Or. 33.35. No mention of lighting in panegyric of streets: Or. 11.196–99, 11.215–17. 280  Improvements in lamp lighting: Ephesus ‘Dark Street’ given lamps: Feissel (1999) 27–28 (IvE 5.1939), thought to be part of same (likely 5th c.) programme of lighting improvement of those of the Arcadiane, given the language of the inscription. Antioch: lighting improved by order of governor at Antioch: Lib. Or. 33.35 (AD 386), PLRE 1 Tisamenus. Edessa, martyrium and street lamps: Josh. Styl. 87 (AD 504/505). 281  Justinian and the end of public lamps (λύχνα) in cities: Procop. Anec. 26.7. We should note his remark at 26.23 that Justinian neglected aqueducts, which recent work on the aqueducts outside of Constantinople, revealing a building inscription of this time, has disproven: Crow, Bardill, and Bayliss (2008) 17–19. 282  Five ‘torches’ outside ‘stalls / shops’ on Saturday evenings at Edessa: Josh. Styl. 29 AD 496/97). The Syriac ‘torch’ used here

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As mentioned above, lamp lighting at Antioch, in the time of Libanius, was achieved by requiring shop owners to pay the cost of oil. However, the transfer of lamps between churches and colonnades at Edessa strongly suggests different arrangements. It is likely that here any obligations on shop owners had been converted into a cash payment, facilitating the transfer. At Constantinople, it is also likely that imperial benefactions or civic revenues paid for street lighting, rather than artisans: otherwise, it is difficult to account for the extraordinary popularity of the Urban Prefect Cyrus, who introduced such lighting to the city. Thus, it is possible that Procopius was correct to say that street lighting was funded by civic revenues in his day. It might still have made sense to hold shop owners responsible for lighting or loss of oil in some instances. But the conversion of oil obligations into a civic tax would have encouraged much greater flexibility. It would have allowed priority to be given to porticoes outside public buildings, or for lamps to be moved to illuminate blind porticoes, without any shops at all, where night watchmen rather than trades people would have been best placed to light them. Statues As mentioned earlier, statues were sometimes used to decorate key junctions, as within round plazas. Statues were also set up / re-erected within ordinary street space, and within, or against, street porticoes (Map 9). In the West, this habit was largely confined to Rome (Via Sacra (8)), with a few outliers: here cities preferred to display statues on fora, rather than on the street. In the East, statues were present at Constantinople, on the major urban arteries, the Mese (5+ many more) and on the Regia (16)), along with selected avenues of cities in Greece and in western Asia Minor. In Greece, statuary is confined to the major streets of a handful of major cities in the south: Corinth (2, including one loose late statue), Athens (4), Gortyn (8), and perhaps Olympia (4). In Asia Minor, major avenues are frequently rich in late statue bases / socles and sometimes in statue finds, found in situ or almost in situ. A large number of statue bases, and sometimes statues, have been recorded in these locations by archaeology, as at Aizanoi (2), Laodicea ad Lycum (1, amongst older bases), Tripolis ad Meandrum (6), Antioch in Pisidia (3), Limyra (1), Perge (4), Side (6), Sagalassos (5), and, above all, Ephesus. Here, the main north-south axis of the city was full of statue monuments, from the Embolos (47, including 5 statues without a base), through the Marble Street (7 + another 2 is loaned from Greek, φανός, which can also mean lamp, whilst the word for ‘stalls’ can also mean shops. It is used to refer to enclosed rooms in Syriac Old Testament at 2Kings 23.11 and Jeremiah 35.2, according to J. Watt, pers. comm, with thanks.

found with 3 late togate statues in a wall) to the ‘Plateia in Coressus’ (7). Surprisingly, there is no evidence that the Arcadiane of Ephesus was decorated in this manner: its only surviving bases (2) coming from the arch at the east end, where the north-south axial route passes by. Isolated statue bases are known more widely, coming from Trier (on a street crossing), Portus, and Ostia (associated with a portico in the last 2 cases), Minturno (2), Thracian Philippopolis, Sardis, Laodicea ad Lycum, Hierapolis Castabala (2), Tyre (2), Scythopolis, and Caesarea Palestinae (2). The only place in the Near East where late statue monuments appear, in a similar way to those in western Asia Minor, is in Antioch, where the main street is shown on the mid-5th c. Yakto mosaic as having three statues, two of which wear late chlamydes. In chronological terms, of the 140 known street statues, just under 85 % were dedicated in the late 3rd to early 5th c., with around 10 % dedicated in the rest of the 5th c., mostly coming from Constantinople, with outliers at Sagalassos [447–51] and at Aizanoi [2, likely early 5th c.]. The statues of the 6th c. represent just over 5 % of the total, with two each coming from Constantinople, Antioch in Pisidia, Sagalassos, and Caesarea Palestinae. A notable peak comes in the last quarter of the 3rd c. (graph 30), a concentration not known to LSA on this scale and not replicated in fora/agorai, where the spread is more evenly late 3rd to early 4th c. This looks like a conscious decision to ornament streets at this time, notably at Ephesus, Perge, Side, and Tyre. Some monuments were honorific statues, as at Ephesus, Side, Sardis, Perge, Antioch in Pisidia, and Antioch in Syria. Other statues were antiquarian works of art, as at Constantinople and Aizanoi, where reused classical mythological statues were erected.283 Statue arrangements inherited from earlier centuries could be preserved and embellished, as at Sagalassos, where the main colonnaded street has produced a number of 2nd to 3rd c. bases relating well to the Antonine Temple, and a street full of agonistic bases (for athletic victors) on the street leading north from the Lower Agora. Both seem to represent undisturbed groups of statue bases. Alternatively, statues might be laid out entirely anew, as at Constantinople and Ephesus.284 At Ephesus, we are confronted by a very dense concentration of high-status statues on the Upper Embolos, suggesting that the images were not merely decorative but that the street was a special place of honour and memory. Yet, only at Constantinople and Aizanoi can one 283  Statues in streets: see appendix H7. 284  Earlier statue arrangements preserved and embellished, at Sagalassos (imperial and agonistic statues): Lavan (2008) 203– 25, nn. 27–28, 30. New statue arrangements: see appendix H7, of which Constantinople, Aizanoi, and Ephesus (Embolos) represent statue landscapes created in Late Antiquity.

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suspect that a whole street of ornament was planned at a single moment, along with a new avenue. It was more usual for an existing avenue to be filled with statues cumulatively. The largest associations of statues seem to be those used to ornament a single portico, placed in front of each column, facing the street. In these settings, statue bases are usually balanced on a stone block set on the portico. Sometimes they are physically strapped to the upstanding monoliths, although in two cases at Ephesus a row of statue bases were set onto slabs that were keyed into the portico and its related road paving: this was done at the same time as these elements were constructed. Such portico-hugging statue groups line streets at Gortyn [382–83, group of 8], Aizanoi [402–557, but probably early 5th c., 2, Tripolis ad Meandrum [300– 400, group of 8], and Ephesus [410–36, group of 8 and group of 13]. They can also be seen within fora / agorai at Rome [Basilica Julia 377, group of 5, Basilica Aemilia 421–39, group of 3] and Sagalassos [355–525, group of 9]. Where we know the subjects of these planned ‘portico groups’, they seem to be closely connected coherent collections of statues: of governors from a quarter-century period at Ephesus; of reused mythological images at Rome and Aizanoi; of senior ministers of the imperial court at Gortyn. These planned arrangements seem to have been popular from the second half of the 4th c. until the first decades of the 5th c. Before this time, Tetrarchic and Constantinian statue groups tended to be set in front of monuments such as fountains or temples, if they were displayed on streets at all. Otherwise, we see single statues associated with late street porticoes, recording the benefactor who paid for the building: for the ?proconsul Eutropius at Ephesus [on a console, probably 410–36], and for the pater civitatis Pelagius at Side [so ca. 460–614]. The latter instance provides the latest example of this tradition, unless we count the agora portico restored / rebuilt by the clarissimus Albinus [likely during 527–614], at Aphrodisias, where a statue was erected within the portico, on a public square. New and restored porticoes at Ostia [385–89] and Portus [425–50] each saw the dedication of a single statue by a praefectus annonae, to Urbs (the secularised Dea Roma), and to an unknown subject, which usually implies a mythological figure in this region. In terms of honorands, emperors were the most popular subjects, notably at Constantinople. The Regia, leading to the Palace, presented a large group of emperors and imperial family members: 5 emperors, 2 empresses, 8 or more imperial family members, and 1 general. This collection was still being added to in the time of Tiberius II [574–82]. In terms of dedicants of imperial statues, at Rome, we have urban prefects and agents of praetorian prefects. In contrast, at Constantinople,

123 dedicants are rarely known. In eastern provincial capitals we have governors: at Ephesus, proconsuls (in one case the boule and demos); at Antioch in Pisidia [309– 13], Hierapolis Castabala [twice, 367–78], Tyre [286–98], and Scythopolis [400–404]. Finally, the city is responsible at Side [353–61]. Statues for governors, especially popular at Ephesus, are usually dedicated by the city or boule and demos. At Gortyn an odd collection honouring senatorial colleagues of Vettius Agorius Praetextatus of 382–83, alongside a Clodius Felix Saturninus, was dedicated by a mixture of governors, the provincial assembly, the city, its councils and their leader. The Pamphylian cities of Side and Perge offer more variety in honorands than seen in most places. The main street at Side has statues of the boule, of the demos, and of a local notable Modestus and his wife Modesta, all dedicated by the gerousia. These can only be dated within the second half of the 3rd c. [to 276–300], so might just fall outside our period. At Perge, there is a statue of the Tyche of the Metropolis, dedicated by a man of consular rank, again in the period 275–300. Ephesus offers some variety, with unusual honorands: we have the founder of Ephesus (Androklos), a certain Piso (perhaps imperial priest of 2nd c. known elsewhere in inscriptions of Ephesus) reerected by a proconsul [405–10], and a doctor named Alexander, by the boule and demos [300–412.5]. The statue of Alexander the doctor occurs oddly, amongst a group of Early Imperial statues of Victory that were reused to accompany a statue of the empress Aelia Flacilla, as part of a portico statue group on the Upper Embolos, approaching the Gate of Hercules, in 410–36. But careful inspection of archive photos and my own re-study of the phasing of related walls has revealed that these statues are not in their original display position, having been re-erected here in the period 576–601 (fig. B26e). This is probably when the doctor entered the group, and when one of the bronze Victories was converted into an honorific statue with a toga. On the Alytarch Stoa, on the same street, a second portico statue group, of governors of 410–36, also shows traces of late repair. A 6th c. marble head has been substituted on a late marble togate statue of the earlier 5th c. dedication. This reveals that the street’s statues experienced an extended period of care, long after the last new dedications were made. It seems that a final period of ancient statue life has been missed so far by scholars, who have concentrated on epigraphy rather than archaeology, as a main source for their later history, notably in the Oxford Last Statues project. Traces of re-erection and repair are likely to exist elsewhere but have not yet been looked for sufficiently. Lastly, the antiquarian value of ancient statues, even those in poor condition, can be suggested in the 6th c., at

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figure b26e Statue bases fronting a street portico, Upper Embolos, Ephesus. Note that the first base is set on a levelled paving slab, part of the road paving of 410–36. Other statue bases here are re-set within a stone kerb added to the street in the period 576– 601, likely when the portico was rebuilt. See fig. E6e for a similar 410–36 portico-statue arrangement, on the same street, without late 6th c. rebuilding.

Sagalassos [500–550] and at Caesarea Palestinae [546– 614]. At Sagalassos, one statue (of a ?child) and perhaps another (on a lion capital) were set on the damaged agora gate, in the first half of the 6th c., in an ungainly manner. At Caesarea Palestinae, two seated colossi were re-displayed on a street, in a broken condition, as if antiquarian interest might accommodate even damaged relics of the past. Porches and Forecourts An important aspect of late antique street design is a desire to connect major buildings with monumental avenues in a harmonious fashion, rather than allow individual façades to compete with each other, as they did on the streets of northern medieval cities. This style, of modest and integrated frontages, was inherited from the Early Imperial era. At that time, house façades are so muted as to seem invisible, except at Herculaneum and Pompeii, where exceptional preservation reveals decorated lintels, coloured plaster, or high cornices. These elements grace great mansions, which might be fronted by

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sections of improved sidewalks.285 Despite façades continuing to be understated, there are significant late antique modifications to the art of setting buildings within an urban context. In particular, façades of prominent buildings begin to be defined in monumental terms within the urban landscape. These are changes which provide an important complement to the supposed ‘interiority’ of late antique building decoration.286 Modest but monumental porches started to appear, especially in large cities, during the 4th c. They were often of just two columns supporting a triangular pediment (fig. B27a, B27c). This kind of structure ( fastigium) was built on the Regia, as the residence of the dictator Julius Caesar, by the vote of the Senate (Plut. Caes. 63.9), the collapse of which, in a dream, predicted his demise. Later sources on the meaning of pedimental porches are not available, but Plutarch is clear that this was done to provide Caesar’s residence with both ornament and distinction. The similarity between a pedimental house porch and the front of a Roman podium temple may have held an association in Caesar’s time. But by Late Antiquity, the variety of structures to which such porches are applied leads me to think that there was no specific meaning other than relative honour. New porches leading onto streets and public squares (Map 4) are known on 16 occasions at 7 sites in the West (mostly at Rome and Ostia) and on 17 occasions at 11 sites in the East. They are known for imperial palaces at Arles [4 columns, 317–26] and at Ravenna [4 columns, 402–540; for a possible praetorium at Ptolemais [2 columns, 383–642]; for the basilica of Maxentius / Constantine at Rome [4 columns, 375–400]; for possible secretaria at Rome and Ostia [2 columns, 306–37, 200–389]; for a rostra at Rome [2 columns, 279–83]; for episcopal complexes at Cuicul [2 columns, undated], Philippi [2 columns, 313–350, 4 columns 400–536, 4 columns 536–616], Stobi [2 columns within the portico, pediment not certain, 425–50], Salona [?2 columns, 554–62]; for baths at Ostia [287.5– 312.5, strictly for the palaestra), Antioch [2 columns wide, in place by 466], Palmyra [293–303, 4 columns wide], and Scythopolis [506–507, 4 columns wide]; for churches at Justiniana Prima [2 columns, 548–65], Constantinople [4 columns, 412], Gerasa [2 columns, for cathedral of 404–49], Gaza [4 columns, Syrian pediment featuring cross, 510–36], 285  Early imperial house frontages: Hartnett (2017) 119–145 on enhanced sidewalks, and 146–74 on house façades, with a lintel with cornice, top cornice, and projecting roof on Casa del Tramezzo di Legno, Herculaneum (p. 163 fig. 44), noting also painted plaster façades of some shops, e.g. plate 6, a fullonica. 286  Interiority of late antique decoration: e.g. Krautheimer (1986) 65–67; Norberg-Schulz (1980) 58.

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figure b27a Pedimental façade, Ostia (Domus del Protiro)

and Abu Mina [532–619]; for a xenodocheion at Teurnia [twice, of 2 columns, both ca. 500–600]; for a synagogue at Sardis [250–425]; for domus at Ravenna [4 pieredcanopy, ca. 450–500], Ostia [2 columns, 309–34, 4 more undated, likely later 3rd to 4th c.], and Carthage [300– 400]; for a cellular shop at Sagalassos [2 columns, 550– 610]. There is even a portico with a porch at Ephesus (Alytarch Stoa) [410–36], where two spiral columns marked out the position of an emphasised entrance, within an open line of columns. It has been suggested

that this distinction relates to a special function for one of the shops behind. Clearly, two column porches were most common, with 4 column porches being reserved for major imperial buildings, an episcopal palace in Philippi, and two large bath buildings in the Levant. In this total of 32 porches, the greatest number (at least 8 or 9, more with the Ostian examples) were of the late 3rd to 4th c., whereas 4 were 5th c., and 5 were 6th c. There was clearly a fashion during the earlier 4th c. in the use of columnar porches on imperial political buildings

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Recessed Facades

Rome, 'Temple of Romulus'

Philippi episcopium

Philippi episcopium

Staircase Facades

Rome, Basilica of Maxentius

Apamea episcopium

Piered Facades

Ostia, foro della statua eroica Rome, Basilica of Maxentius

0

20m

figure b27b Street façades, concave and piered. Rome, (‘Temple of Romulus’), Philippi (episcopium, south and north), Rome (Basilica of Maxentius), Apamea (episcopium), and Ostia (Foro della statua eroica)

in the West and in houses at Ostia, where warehouses earlier such features earlier. This gives the distribution an earlier peak than other buildings (graph 13). But if one removes these groups, the use of porches seems fairly stable for public buildings (especially baths), churches, and residences (including episcopal complexes). The majority of large houses, churches, and baths had such features, only they became more common.287 The widest porches are those associated with imperial patronage in capitals: that of the Basilica of Maxentius in Rome is ca. 25 m across and ca. 5 m deep, Theodosian Hagia Sophia is ca. 15.4 m wide and 5.7 m deep, the Senate on the Augusteion 24.7 m, and the Arles palace has dimensions of ca. 11 m wide. Bath porticoes from Palmyra and Scythopolis are also wide, measuring ca. 8.5 m wide by 1.5 m and ca. 13 m wide by 11 m deep respectively. Of episcopal complexes, Philippi’s phase 3 porch is the widest at ca. 15 m, having been ca. 10 m in a previous phase. Other episcopal centres, churches, and ecclesiastical buildings had much more modest porches, of between 1.5 m and 3 m. The houses of Ostia and Carthage had widths of between 3.5 m and 4.6 m, with the possible praetorium at Ptolemais (essentially a residence) sporting a porch 6 m wide. That at Ravenna was the largest 287  Porches: see appendix E1.

for a domus, covering an area of ca. 6.6 m by 7.5 m. The porch for the Sagalassos shop, some ca. 4.8 m wide by 2.7–3 m deep, is extremely odd, and one wonders if it was not intended to provide some kind of entrance, perhaps via a lost staircase, to the church established within a temple that is set above it, or if the pedestals simply marked an entrance with no superstructure above them. Architectural details of porches often escape us, as there are few well-preserved examples which permit elevations to be reconstructed with any confidence. In height, the southwest porch of the Basilica of Maxentius reached ca. 14.63 m, the porch of Hagia Sophia ca. 14.6– 14.7 m, and the porch of the palace at Arles ca. 13 m, equalled by the porch of the Baths of Scythopolis, 13 m from ground surface to apex. Lesser heights were reached by the porch of the 3rd phase of episcopal complex at Philippi, ca. 8.6 m high, and of the Domus del Protiro at Ostia, 4.52 m high. At Gaza, the church built by bishop Marcian had a porch with columns larger than those in the agora. Of materials, the Basilica of Maxentius’ porch employed columns of porphyry, as did the audience hall of the city prefect / Temple of Romulus in Rome. The baths of Palmyra enjoyed red Aswan granite columns, as perhaps did the ‘Basilica’ of Ostia. The baths of Scythopolis sported Corinthian capitals inhabited by sculpted figures. Bishop Marcian’s church porch at Gaza

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0

Rome, Basilica of Maxentius

Athens, Palace of Giants

Rome, ‘Temple of Romulus’

Constantinople, Senate

20m

Cyrene, late macellum

Constantinople, St Sophia (Theodosian)

Scythopolis, Western Baths

Philippi, Episcopal Complex

Arles, Imperial Palace

figure b27c Street façade, elevations: Rome (Basilica of Maxentius) porch, Athens (Palace of the Giants), Rome (ʻTemple of Romulusʼ), Cyrene (market building), Philippi (episcopium), Constantinople (Hagia Sophia), Constantinople (Senate on Augusteion), Scythopolis (West Baths), Arles (Imperial Palace)

featured Carystian columns. Elsewhere, such details are usually missing. Nonetheless, monolithic columns seem to be standard, where upper parts are preserved, supporting, in most cases, pedimental entablatures (fig. B27c). These entablatures were sometimes lightly decorated. At Ostia, a house porch was inscribed (twice) with a possible family name, in the centre of the pediment (fig. B27a). At Salona, the lintel of an episcopal porch bore the monogram of bishop Peter [554–62]. Such inscriptions may not have been uncommon at Constantinople: Theophanes tells us that an earthquake in 528/29 was brought to an end after houseowners inscribed ‘Christ is with us, stand’ on lintels of their doors. Perhaps this involved displacing texts which advertised the names of prominent families.288 Palace porches were naturally well-decorated: that at Arles was decorated with gilded 288  Name of Christ on house lintels, Constantinople: Theophanes A.M. 6021 AD 528/29 (date from edn. of Mango and Scott (1997)).

bronze letters honouring the imperial family, including Fausta, second wife of Constantine. The porch of the palace of Ravenna held a representation, likely of Theoderic, in the gold mosaic of the tympanum, whilst Victories holding garlands were set in the spaces between arcades, and crosses on the impost blocks and capitals. The porch leading into the East Rostra in Rome carried a flat architrave block supporting statues of Gratian, Valentinian [II], and Theodosius. The presence of piers at the domus in Ravenna probably implies arcading for the entrance canopy set over the street, whilst the porch of the Palace of Theodoric was fully arcaded. Theodosian Hagia Sophia sported a Syrian pediment (flat architraves but with a central vault), as did the nearby Senate. The church had cassettes in the roof of the vault, alongside friezes featuring lambs on the architraves of its inside faces. The porch of the palace at Arles did not project from the line of the forum portico, but was set within it, as were those of the Theodosian church of Hagia Sophia at Constantinople, of the churches at Justiniana Prima

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figure b27d Street façade, Rome, ʻTemple of Romulusʼ

and Stobi, and of Philippi’s episcopal complex (phase three). This last porch had slightly wider intercolumniations than the adjacent portico, whereas that at Stobi was marked by columns of different materials. Other porches were distinguished not in their columns but only in the superstructure above. In all cases listed here, the porch does project from the portico onto the street / plaza surface, reducing its width. This style is clearly in the majority in the 4th c., but by the 6th c. projecting entrances have become rare. Porches are now confined within the porticoes. Admittedly, the Scythopolis baths porch of 506/507 projects by about a third of an intercolumniation, but exceptions may have been made for larger porches: that of the Palace of Ravenna seems to extend by a comparable amount. This overall development looks like the gradual reassertion of the portico over the porch. By the 6th c., the monumental unity of the colonnaded street again became more important than the need to articulate individual buildings. By the time of Justinian, porches were no longer being permitted to obstruct the street but had to distinguish themselves within the portico. Some were entirely subsumed within the portico: an entrance into

the new agora at Bostra [487.5–512.5] was set at the back of a street portico, rather than projecting from it. So too was the entrance of the episcopal complex at Apamea [533], despite having a staircase onto the street. The episcopal porch at Gerasa is also completely set back inside the portico, recessed within its back wall.289 When we look at the early 8th c. colonnaded street porticoes of Early Islamic ʿAnjar, the balance between portico and porch seems to continue: entrances into two palaces and into the mosque from the main avenues are articulated by a special treatment of piers within the portico, rather than by any porch set out on the street itself (fig. B27f). This preference is already visible at later 5th to early 7th c. Abu Mina, where the porch of the main church, the entrances into other buildings, and even the junctions into side roads are all set within porticoes rather than projecting from them (see fig. B9). Here, at 289   Porches set in porticoes: Arles palace, Constantinople, Justiniana Prima and Stobi churches, Philippi and Gerasa episcopal complexes, Scythopolis baths, Ravenna palace (appendix E1), Bostra (all appendix K1a), and Apamea (appendix E3).

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figure b27e Portico façade of S. Lorenzo, Milan

least, we have firm archaeological proof that ‘disruptive’ street developments were resisted and reversed in the East Mediterranean during Late Antiquity: so much for ‘encroachment’.290 Other types of façades were in use. Monumental porticoes, or at least arcades, sometimes acted as the frontages of major buildings, without being interrupted by a pedimental porch, and isolated from any wider connection to other porticoes or streets. Thus, at Rome, the original southeast façade of the Basilica of Maxentius was a portico of piers, which provided seven entrances through intercolumniations without projecting columns [306–12]. At nearby Ostia, the initial façade of the Foro della statua eroica was also of piers, between which were set 9 staircases. It measured 44 m wide [250–75]. At San Lorenzo in Milan, the axial gap in the entrance portico (this time of columns) had only a modest widening at the centre of a long columnar portico [probably 315–402], whilst at Theodosian Hagia Sophia, another portico of columns, despite having a central porch, was set apart from surrounding street space, as a raised area, with a great mosaic. It undoubtedly served to emphasise the building on its own merits [415].

290  Porches of ʿAnjar: Finster (2003) 209–244 with figs. 2 (site plan), 11 (great palace), 15 (small palace), and 23 (mosque).

Semi-circular concave façades represent a different development (fig. B27b). They were used for a secretarium at Rome (‘Temple of Romulus’) (ca. 14 m wide, [306– 37]), for two churches at Philippi (ca. 3.4 m and ca. 8.2 m wide, [450–527]), for the episcopal complex at Philippi (ca. 7 m wide, [400–536]) (2 concave portals 3–3.5 m wide, [both 536–616]), and for a mansion (the Palace of Antiochos) at Constantinople (4 m wide, [400–450]). At Philippi, a concave recess is used in combination with a projecting porch. This is highly confusing, relating to some logic which escapes us. Such entrances seem to be most common during the 5th–6th c. As an architectural form, concave façades have been recognised in other contemporary structures by W. Müller-Wiener, who highlighted the use of a concave portal for the east gate of Justiniana Prima. The earliest example, which comes from Rome, is that on the ‘Temple of Romulus’ [306–37]. This façade was spectacular, being one of the most exuberant street frontages from all of Antiquity. It included two niches for statues, on each side of the door (4 in total). Overall, it was ca. 30 m wide, and ca. 11.56 / 13.56 m high. The central concavity was ca. 14 m wide, twice or three times as wide as the door itself. It is difficult to see this isolated early western example as the direct ancestor of the concave façades known from the Balkans. However, perhaps some 4th c. structure at Constantinople, constructed at the time of Constantine,

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20m

inspired both the Balkans regional group, as well as the ‘Temple of Romulus’ in Rome.291 Grand staircases of many steps might occasionally front major buildings, spilling out onto the street (fig. B27b). In modifications to the Basilica of Maxentius in Rome, of later 4th c. date [not of the time of Constantine], a porch was built with a wide projecting staircase, ca. 32 m by 11 m, to constitute a new southern façade [375– 400] (figs. B27b and B27c). Constantine’s churches at Rome and Jerusalem, St. Peter’s [314–25] and the Holy Sepulchre [326–33], both had great flights of steps leading up from the street to the entrance portico. The estimated dimensions of these staircases were ca. 32 m by 11 m and ca. 41 m by 3.2 m. We cannot be sure how much of these flights were of Constantinian date, even if both complexes must have had such stairs, given obvious differences in level that faced their entrances. The stairs at St. Peter’s are those from a widening in 498–514, not necessarily those of the time of Constantine. The staircase at 291  Small semi-circular concave façades: see appendix E2. The gate of Justiniana Prima: Kondić and Popović (1977) 46–49, figs. 26–29, 321–22. See Müller-Wiener (1987) for further discussion.

figure b27f Porches set within porticoes, ʿAnjar

the Holy Sepulchre was inherited from an earlier structure, which Constantinian builders preserved: they embellished the external face of the existing entrance with marble revetment, but probably reused existing stairs. Eusebius noted that the ‘entrance-gates, which were of exquisite workmanship, afforded to passers-by … a view of the interior which could not fail to inspire astonishment.’ The staircase, leading up to a (triple) doorway, was still a dominating feature of the cardo on the Madaba mosaic, in the mid-6th c. At Apamea, a huge frontal staircase (ca. 37.5 m by 4.75 m) is attested for the 6th c. phase of the episcopal complex [533], spilling onto the street paving. However, such staircases are unknown elsewhere on street façades, at this scale. Smaller staircases of two or three steps, only a few metres wide, built into the roadway, are associated with the grand houses of later Ostia. Another of 8 steps, ca. 4 m wide, at Constantinople, gave access to rooms adjacent to the Palace of Antiochos [400–450], obstructing 6 m of the roadway of a major street, in the very centre of the city, narrowing it by some 40 %.292 292  Porches / entrances set on steps: see appendix E3.

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Shallow but wide staircases were provided for other monuments, fronting the entire section of a portico onto which a building was set. We find this arrangement on the west façade of the Kaiserthermen at Trier, where a portico, with central porch, ca. 135 m long by 6.5 m deep, was set on steps that projected 4 m out into the street on the west, north, and south sides [270–95]. We also find frontal staircases at San Lorenzo in Milan (fig. B27e), where three steps are envisaged in front of the entrance porch / portico of the atrium [probably within 315 to 402] and at the Theodosian Church of Hagia Sophia [415]. This arrangement probably persisted in the Justinianic church [dedicated 537], which was also fronted by a major staircase, known only from literary sources. The Theodosian staircase projected ca. 1.8 m beyond the portico’s lateral terminals to give a bottom step façade width of ca. 79.1 m.293 Still grander façades are known for praetoria / palaces. Thus, the Palace of the Giants in Athens had a triple-arched entrance carried by triton piers [392–417].294 The use of arches / tetrapyla to form the portals of palaces at Thessalonica, Constantinople, and Antioch, has been noted earlier, and should perhaps be seen as part of the same development.295 These different types of elaborate façades did of course serve exceptional buildings, most of which were found in imperial capitals. Given the 4th to early 5th c. date of most examples, one might anticipate that they were especially characteristic of Constantinian-Theodosian Constantinople, large parts of which were built at this time, where new palaces or imperial thermae might well have been given spectacular street frontages. Screens of projecting columns were used as façades for a small number of civic public buildings in and around Rome. On the Via Sacra, the so-called ‘Temple of Romulus’ [306–37] (figs. B27c–d) not only possessed a concave façade but was preceded by 4 large cipollino columns, 7 m high, set on pedestals—perhaps supporting statuary or a further porch structure—engaging them to the façade, which was in total ca. 30 m wide and which reached 11.56 m or 13.56 m high. At Ostia, the Foro della statua eroica eventually enjoyed a similar elaborate street frontage: in a secondary phase [probably 350– 75], this façade was given a screen of granite columns (5.81 m high) and projecting entablature elements, reaching a total estimated height of 9.46 m. A similar piered façade, with projecting columns, is known on the Augustan Basilica Aemilia and the Forum of Nerva

(fig. B27b).296 The columnar screen at Ostia may have incorporated statues. When combined with granite shafts, white marble projecting elements, and green porphyry veneer, this would have presented a spectacular, if somewhat garish, street façade. In contrast, the monument behind the Ostian façade, a two-porticoed plaza with reused paving, was far more modest. The disjuncture brings to mind a law of 362 which permitted the private occupation of public buildings: this practice was to be allowed providing that their monumental aspect was retained. From this, we might imagine that a façade could be preserved just for the sake of street ornament. Yet, despite the seductive imagery that this law evokes, no-one has so far found any archaeological evidence of active maintenance of a façade after such privatisation.297 Closed colonnaded forecourts had existed in the Early Imperial period, but now became more frequent. The atria of churches opened discretely off the streets themselves, whilst some grand houses at Constantinople were fronted by semi-circular ‘sigma’ porticoes. The Palace of ‘Lausus’ [400–500] is the only case we can attest to archaeologically. Yet, here, the semi-circular portico was not a plaza open to public view but was rather raised 1.3 m above the level of the street and was not accessible from it. Two staircases led up from the roadway to two doorways, beyond which the portico opened. Elsewhere in the eastern capital, semi-circular plazas have been suggested as palatial forecourts, but can only be connected to houses in the case of the Amastrianon, fronting the palace of the Myrelaion [400–500]. Here, the street interface is lost. The plaza has to be reconstructed from street alignments and a small section of surviving wall. Another semi-circular portico, named as a sigma in the notitia of ca. 425, is known in region 3 south of the Forum of Constantine. We do not know whether this was for a house or a free-standing public structure, but the latter seems likely given how it is listed within the notitia. The courtyard fronting the Palace of the Giants at Athens provides perhaps the closest parallel to the domestic forecourts outside of the capital, given its date [392–417]. This was a rectangular entrance court, best related to those of praetoria, with a portal wide enough to have welcomed visitors. It is possible that the semicircular entrance portico of the Palace of ‘Lausus’ was borrowed from the villa architecture of the period: we can recall the semi-circular entrance courts of villas at

293  Porches set within porticoes: see appendix E3. 294  Piered façades, Athens (Palace of Giants): appendix E4. 295  Imperial palace porches: see appendix E1, F3, and F7a.

296  Columnar / piered façades on public buildings: appendix E4 and E1. 297  Alienations of public buildings to private persons permitted if decorum maintained: Cod. Iust. 8.11.3 (AD 362). The possibility of ‘façadism’ is discussed by Ellis, though admittedly without supporting archaeological evidence: Ellis (1998) 233–39.

132 Cercadilla and Montmaurin.298 Comparable porticoes were undoubtedly very rare inside cities. In contrast, atria were common for churches, if being more prevalent in Greece and western Asia Minor than elsewhere. The forecourt of the Baths of Constantius in Ephesus (called an atrium in statue dedications) represents an unusual secular example [340–50]: here an oval courtyard is set entirely behind the street portico, being accessible from it via three doorways. From behind the portico, it does not play any role in ornamenting the Arcadiane street, only in secluding the building entrance from the avenue itself.299 Overall, it seems that porches, concave façades, and entrance courtyards were increasing in number, if still not being common. In the streets of Rome, as seen in its suburb of Ostia, and at Constantinople, decorated frontages are likely to have been frequent: the roadway past the Palace of Antiochus was significantly encumbered by projecting staircases and porches.300 Yet, this can be excluded in ordinary cities: no excavated site outside the two capitals has revealed a similar level of investment in façades except perhaps Philippi. Furthermore, most of the ‘new’ façades had earlier precedents, and the change in emphasis was only slight. A few more grand houses and public buildings now had pedimental porches, but not many. They were usually related to churches or the residences of bishops, or to imperially-funded monuments. There was no rejection of the overall nature of the building façades seen in the Early Imperial period, which often continued to be understated. Many cities seem to have been without a single entrance porch, let alone anything more complex. We have noted that the grand flight of stairs in front of the Holy Sepulchre stands out on the Madaba mosaic of Jerusalem, as a prominent landmark. However, it is the only porch which breaks the line of porticoes on the Cardo, or those of any other main road depicted on the map. A similar impression is offered by the mid 5th c. Yakto mosaic of Antioch, whereby street colonnades dominate, rather than the 298  Buildings with forecourts (Hellenistic / Early Imperial examples): City council chambers: Sabratha: Bartoccini (1950) 29–35; Miletus: Knackfuss (1908); Antioch: Lib. Or. 22.30. Baths: Aphrodisias (where used as an entrance courtyard full of statuary, rather than just a palaestra): Smith (2007). Churches (atria): Delvoye (1962) and (1966); Picard (1989); Sodini (2002) with articles by C. Bonnet and N. Gauthier in the same volume. Of these, I have only seen Delvoye (1966). Houses: at Constantinople: see appendix D1. Palaces: Palace of Giants at Athens: see appendix E4. Villas, entrance courts: Montmaurin: Fouet (1969); Cercadilla: Fuertes and Hidalgo (2005); Helal (2012). 299  Atrium of Baths of Constantius, at Ephesus: see appendix D1. 300  Projecting staircases and porches Constantinople, street by Palace of Antiochus: see Müller-Wiener (1977) pl. 109.

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porches of the few buildings which interrupted them. These images are confirmed by the excavated streets of Justiniana Prima, Ephesus, Sardis, Side, Apamea, and Scythopolis, where pedimental porches are uncommon, within the colonnades which lined the streets. Again, we might detect a slight loosening of urban rules, within the 4th c., if there had ever been any. But there was no revolution. And change was not all in one direction: by the 6th c., the portico again seems to have become dominant, and porches were typically set within it or behind it, rather than projecting onto the roadway. Conclusions on Monumental Streets The architectural history of monumental streets in Late Antiquity is best characterised as the continued development and extensive dissemination of existing classical forms. That is a dull conclusion to come to, after so many books have argued for ‘transformation’, but it seems to be the truth. Some original features were introduced, but these sat comfortably within frameworks laid down in earlier centuries. A certain appreciation of urban aesthetics can be detected in the design of streets, both in imperial capitals and in larger cities, as at Ephesus, Antioch, Apamea, Scythopolis, and Ptolemais. This can be seen in terms of the connection of spaces and the unification of building frontages. The use of plazas, tetrapyla and arches as junction-monuments was as competent as it had been earlier. The placement of tetrakionia was also well-conceived, at least in terms of their settings within plazas. However, we do not always see nymphaea and honorific columns used to maximum effect. If there was a ‘Baroque’ urban style in our period, it was not of the same sophistication as that seen in papal Rome nor in imperial Paris, a thousand or more years later. The ‘colonnaded street-with-arch’ is, nonetheless, a ‘connected’ feature of some new building projects, often set on roads leading to a city gate, or within a city, where passages might lead directly from porticoes into the side portals of an arch. This arrangement was not universally popular: Ptolemais misses the chance to produce such integration between a free-standing arch and porticoes on the Street of the Monuments. Integrated junctions are seen in cases involving tetrapyla, whereby roads might be tied together in 4 directions, especially in the case of cross-hall tetrapyla. The great arch of Anazarbos demonstrates that a high level of integration between arches and street passages continued into the 6th c. Ultimately, the wall-arches of Abu Mina were swallowed by the porticoes into which they were set, making junctions unremarkable on one side and invisible on the other.

Street Architecture in Late Antiquity

If the highest levels of street ornament, those of the city, appear to be less well-integrated than earlier, this is not true of the lower levels, those of the street. Within sections of 100 m or so, urban avenues seem to be very well-connected in their components. There is notably a close relationship between sidewalks and water supply, paving and drainage, where the renewal of one leads to the renewal of others. Roadway paving itself was sometimes included in drainage systems, although the close relationship between sidewalks and water pipes seems to be opportunistic, as sidewalks permit pipes to be accessed easily. Some sidewalks are, in just one region, integrated with porticoes: they are raised to the same level at two sites in the Levant. Otherwise, they are kept at separate heights. Porticoes seem less well-integrated with the buildings they front than they might have been: their columns are frequently set without consideration for the shops behind, when it would have been quite easy to arrange columns so as not to block doorways. In contrast, there is some effort to recognise porches— of churches as well as houses—within the porticoes, even if these are progressively constrained within the colonnades rather than allowed to project in front of them. We might talk of a continuing confidence in the public form of the monumental street, whenever they were planned, rather than developed organically. Major streets across the empire were essentially comparable and often reproduced forms laid down centuries earlier. Private interest was not allowed to overwhelm the street, either through the encroachment of the main avenues, or through serious disruption of the unity provided by porticoes, sidewalks, and continuous paving. Ultimately, this might have led to streets in the 6th c. being more homogeneous and perhaps a little duller than those of the 4th c., when there were more projecting porches and perhaps more street ornaments to break up the lines of buildings. Colonnaded streets, whether built anew or repaired, still seem to be largely confined to medium and larger cities. Examples of 4th to early 5th c. date mainly came from the West and the Balkans, with the exception of a few later sites; 5th c. examples mainly come from Asia Minor; those from the Levant tend to be 5th–6th c. It is interesting that, in the West, we see some larger cities taking on monumental road paving, when previously they had relied on gravel, and not adopting porticoes (see Map 1). This was an alternative distinction for urban communities who did not see colonnades as essential. The intensity of building work on colonnaded avenues is greatest in the East, although even here it is not universally impressive. New colonnaded streets were most common in Asia Minor, with modest porticoes of colonnades only 3 m or so high. Those of the 4th to 5th c. were

133 reasonably well-constructed, but those of the 6th c., especially the late 6th c., were sometimes made from nonmatching reused stonework. This might jar badly with newly-cut arches and tetrastyla, as they did at Ephesus in the city’s final decades. The porticoes of the Levant were more spectacular. Here, entirely new colonnaded streets were rare, being found only at Antioch (comprehensively rebuilt), Scythopolis, and Jerusalem. More modest examples come from forts and Justinianic new towns. In a great many cities in the Near East, the main colonnaded streets had been laid down in earlier centuries, so their development cannot be said to form a very distinctive part of the street architecture of Late Antiquity in this region. Grand staircases, pedimental porches, and engaged columnar screens had all been seen as façades in the urbanism of the Early Empire. Although they were only slightly more prevalent now, they seem to have become very characteristic of Rome and Constantinople. There were, nonetheless, trends in street decoration that were certainly distinctive to Late Antiquity, such as the use of round plazas and tetrakionia, or the increased diffusion of honorific columns, and the use of mosaic floors within street porticoes. The Levant appears to be the most innovative region architecturally, despite not developing its great tradition of colonnaded avenues nor its spectacular nymphaea during Late Antiquity. Paradoxically, almost all of the new monuments of the Near East seem to have been exported to the Balkans or Asia Minor. Whether this urban style was a reflection of that of Antioch or Alexandria, we cannot know. Even here, there are signs of a tradition taking a more conservative turn, rather than exceeding the achievements of earlier centuries: the street dimensions which we can confirm for Antioch and the column heights of Alexandria (5 m) seem somewhat less impressive than those seen earlier in the Decapolis and at Palmyra. Another zone of innovation existed in the Aegean region, as seen in monumental arches, city gates, and nymphaea, a phenomenon which others have detected in church building.301 One might credit some of this spirit to the presence of the court: new monuments may have been tried out first at Nicomedia and Thessalonica, and then in Constantinople, as imperial capitals seem to have been particularly well-provided with street ornaments. It is a great problem, for all forms of explanation, that we do not know more about these cities. To a certain extent, the new avenues of Thessalonica and Constantinople represent a last flowering of the colonnaded streets which had their origins in the Late 301  Innovation in church building in western Asia Minor: Karydis (2011).

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figure B27G The Cardo of Apamea, Syria. A colonnaded street of 2nd c. date, today providing the most evocative extant parallel to the main colonnaded avenue of Constantine’s new capital, the Upper Mese

Hellenistic East. In terms of overall planning, both cities appear to have taken scenographic factors into consideration: an integrated triumphal tetrapylon was built at Thessalonica, whilst arches, nymphaea and circular plazas were constructed at Constantinople. But, we need not imagine that the avenues of either city were the most impressive colonnaded streets ever built. For example, the porticoes of Thessalonica had a maximum column height of only 5 m, or 3 m if one allows for arcades. The Mese of Constantinople was certainly a marvel. Its great width measured 32 m for the Upper Mese against 16.5 m for the Lower Mese. Equally impressive were its columns (perhaps 7 m in height), alongside its two storeys / hanging gallery. From this information, we can imagine at least one very spectacular colonnaded avenue. Its porticoes may have reached a height comparable to Early Imperial avenues, not perhaps to those of Palmyra but those of Apamea (9m columns), which today provides the most evocative extant parallel to the colonnaded streets of Constantine’s new city (fig. B27g). However, surviving column fragments suggest dimensions more on a par with Antioch. There was continuity in street

architecture with that before the 3rd c., but it was only direct continuity in a few regions, being marked in others by imitation, misremembering, and recovery. Late antique street architecture was a synthesis of genuine continuity with the consequences of rupture, which one could find in varying degrees in different parts of the empire. It is notable that the West does not seem to have embraced the style of eastern streets in Late Antiquity, with the exception of imperial cities, of which we know most for Milan, Rome, and its satellite Ostia. Some Western communities inserted scenographic buildings from time to time, masking junctions with fountains or arches. Many cities built porticoes, at least enough to keep pace with those being encroached. These late efforts never equalled the joined-up urban style seen briefly at Severan Lepcis Magna, where monuments not only sat within plazas, but were set to ornament the city as a whole. Significantly, this Libyan experiment, which was never completed, did not inspire the late antique cities of the West, except perhaps the nymphaea of one broad street at Ostia, constructed in the shadow of Rome’s

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Severan Septizodium. One might rather suggest that the ‘colonnaded street-with-arch’ form, built at Thibilis (Announa), Milan, and Rome, in the later 4th c., came from the East. It is easier to relate this form (chronologically and stylistically) to the diffusion of colonnaded streets of the Balkans, in the 4th c., from Thessalonica, Constantinople, Philippopolis, and elsewhere, than to Lepcis. It is possible also that the late monumentalisation of the Decumanus of Ostia, with its new porticoes, sigma plaza, and nymphaea owed more to the style of Constantinople and other cities of the East, than to anything in the West. Overall, we can talk of late antique monumental street architecture as being one in which civic amenity, focused on the needs of the public, came first; certainly above the needs of private amenity, focused on the interests of shop-keepers or residents. Close behind, in second place, came a desire to impress external visitors, in a gaudy as much as an artistic manner. The interests of artisans were not absent, but probably followed third: a shop on a major avenue not only came with a convenient portico for display, but also with bills to pay, for oil lighting or for the repainting of shop doors. In last place came any mathematical idea of rational urban order, any kind of abstraction that went beyond the city as a collection of streets, unifying it into a geometric grid. The urban planning of the Greco-Roman colonial era, of civic foundations, had been superseded by something else. The different priorities of Late Antiquity can be seen particularly in porticoes, which were probably more ornamented than they had ever been before, often wider. Yet, their design usually assisted the pedestrian shopper, as much as or more than it ornamented the street, as did the prevalence of street lights and sidewalks. Indeed, part of the ornament of porticoes, in frescoes and mosaics, and perhaps plastered ceilings, was simply not visible to those in the roadway. It was, therefore, not part of the wider ‘urban ornament’ that a visiting dignitary might see. This urban style lasted throughout the period, up to the 7th c. in the East Mediterranean, most notably at Constantinople. It could also be witnessed in part across most of the Mediterranean. Its vigour is perhaps best expressed in the words of Choricius of Gaza on his predecessor Procopius of Gaza, which mentions the achievements of bishop Marcian of their city, in the time of Justinian. His secular building work (as chief of the council of notables) included: … the addition of such great stoas, so that it is possible to name her poetically ‘city of broadways’.’ From that time, one has been able to walk through

the stoas without getting wet, since whatever was blocking them is demolished; and because of your care, the baths reopened to all these, who could not frequently visit (them) from all parts of the cities.

Choricius Or. 8.52, my transl., with thanks to C. Saliou

Minor Streets Architecture Most streets were of course not monumental in character. They lacked the non-essential amenity of formal porticoes, decorative monuments, or any kind of publicly-organised decorative finish, both characteristics of what constitutes ‘monumentality’ in this study. At most, they might have a sidewalk, or benefit from a porch of modest materials, built to serve an individual building. Such streets mainly gave access to houses, to small churches, or to outlying public buildings. I will divide these secondary routes into ‘minor streets’ and then ‘alleys’. As noted at the start of this chapter, by ‘minor streets’ I mean roadways of 3.5 m or more in width (just enough for two ordinary vehicles to squeeze past), which were unmonumentalised.302 Generally, they did not have sidewalks or porticoes, though they could have road paving, water pipes, and sewers. By ‘alleys’ I mean routes of less than 3.5 m across, regardless of their surface, wide enough only to be used by pedestrians and pack animals, or a single cart. This is a somewhat arbitrary division: 5 m seems to be the minimum for planned streets under the empire, but 3.5 m does allow me to include most of the narrow grid-planned streets of Hellenistic cities in the East, which see repairs in this period. Minor streets, of 3.5–5 m wide or more, were built during Late Antiquity, as part of new suburban quarters, in small numbers across the empire (Map 10a): in Britain, at Winchester [4 m wide, 260–400]; in Africa, at Sitifis [ca. 5 m, 355–78]; in the Levant, at Pella [ca. 4.5 m, 587.5–612.5, with others 3.6 m to 4.4 m wide], and at Scythopolis (ca. 4.5 m, [385–635], on the acropolis). Streets in districts created by infilling harbours at Carthage and Naples had narrower widths: three harbour streets at Carthage measured 2.6–3.75 m [480–555], whilst that at Naples measured 2.5–3 m [550–600]. One new suburb had irregular alleyways rather than streets: the Ophel quarter 302  For a review of road widths in Greece and Rome, both legal norms and specific examples, see van Tilburg (2007) 27–32. The ‘normal gauge’ of Grénier (1934) 375–77 is 1.35 m to 1.45 m, which might require a further 0.6 m for the wheel caps on each side. See commentary in van Tilburg (2007) 54.

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figure b28a Stepped side roads: one of many repaved in Late Antiquity at Ephesus, leading north from the Embolos. Note the striations which only occur on the right-hand side of the roadway, for those descending. Here, only the lower section of the road was relaid in reused paving. The upper is earlier, preserving sidewalks on both sides and overflow outlets for a vaulted storm drain that runs beneath the roadway, features which were not retained in the paving of the earlier 5th c.

in Jerusalem [300–375], which presented a challenging terraced site. Here, individual ‘streets’ vary in width: two between 1.5 m and 2 m, one between 1.5 m and over 5 m. However, the Ophel is the exception which proves the rule. Other minor streets built in this southern suburb of Jerusalem, [during 457–82], are all of 5.4 m regular width and paved, despite criss-crossing steep slopes. Southern Jerusalem was no shanty town, no matter what impressions one might have from its depiction on the Madaba mosaic. A few new minor roads were also built in Germany and Italy. These were high-quality ‘urban’ surfaces leading out beyond the suburbs, in districts where new built-up areas cannot be confirmed: as at Trier (4.8 m), [367–93], through the Altbachtal, and at Rome, through the Vatican [250–544.5]. In both cases, the roadways were regular paved streets of respectable dimensions.303 In late non-urban bourgades, irregular alleys were far more common. At Dobrika in Dalmatia, they were of varying width, of ca. 2.5 m to 3.5 m. At Castra 303  Minor roads of 5 m or more built anew, within new suburban quarters: see appendix J1.

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Porphyreion [300–700] and at Shivta [300–900], both unplanned townships in Palestine, streets of over 3.5 m do exist but were again very irregular. At Castra Porphyreion, the ‘streets’ have a maximum width of ca. 7 m and a minimum width of ca. 1 m. At Shivta, the streets are usually ca. 4–5 m in width but have ‘pinch points’, of ca. 2 m or slightly less. Not all such settlements were as chaotic. The bourgade of Arif, in Lycia [425–614] had regular alleys of 3.4 m width. Similar alleys are also seen within the citadels built at Limyra [500–600]. The site of Trimithis in Egypt [300–400] reveals regularity in some of its minor streets, mainly alleyways, of less than 3.5 m wide, leading away from a winding main street of 4–5 m width. But the subsequent development of Abu Mina [385–619], in the same diocese, shows a clearer rejection of alleyways, with minor streets being ca. 4–6 m or ca. 6 m to 8 m wide. Just as a ‘small town’ in 2nd c. Gaul or Britain might emulate a civitas, by developing planned streets, so this 5th–6th c. Christian pilgrimage centre in the East Mediterranean still sought to emulate a classical city, rather than anything else.304 Within recognised cities, alleys were still uncommon, and the lowest level of street that could be encountered was the minor street.305 Thus, we cannot talk of the rise of alleys at the expense of wider roads within cities of the 4th–6th c. It can be seen within 5th–6th c. forts in the northern Balkans, and related bourgades, but not in cities. There was some encroachment of back roads in urban centres, as we will see, but minor streets of 5 m + in width were not abandoned as a desired model for new building. Examples of new minor streets within cities have been uncovered at Trier [300–400], Rome (adjacent to the Basilica of Maxentius) 6.5 m, [306–12], Gortyn (in the former Pythion) 2.2–3.6 m, [365–90], Aphrodisias (twice, in the former Sebasteion) [250–614], Caesarea Palestinae ca. 4.5 m, [550–614], and Jerusalem (within the old city) [500–43].306 Regular roads of such width continued to be created even in Early Medieval Italy, where urban settlements persisted and have been well-studied.307 Some minor streets were stepped, as at Jerusalem, in the new southern district. We have spectacular late antique examples from Ephesus, where many stepped routes, leading off the Embolos were repaved [410–36] (fig. B28a). Steps were common in Asia Minor, where Hellenistic cities had chosen not to abandon hillside 304  Minor roads of 5 m or more built anew for non-urban bourgades: see appendix B6. For Limyra see n. 332 below. 305  Narrower alleys of 3.5 m or less: see above. 306  Minor roads of 5 m or more built anew, within existing cities: see appendix J1. 307  Wider roads (new) in Early Medieval Italy: e.g. Colle San Pietro, Tuscania: Roman street surface retained, not buried, and extended in Early Medieval times, with realigned line: Gianfrotta and Potter (1980) 446–47.

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sites. Repairs using spolia, to stepped minor routes at Priene and Hierapolis, show that they persisted in use.308 It is important to note that, at Constantinople, we cannot use attestations of gradus (steps) in the Notitia Urbis as evidence of stepped streets. Rather, these seem to refer to public distribution points for panis gradilis (given out in Rome at distribution points known as gradi); the entries occur each time after bakeries, so supporting this identification. Indeed, the Constantinopolitan Notitia has low numbers of gradus in both the flat central regions 1–4 (4, 4, 0 and 7 gradi respectively) and in steep regions 8, along the Mese, and 9, to its south (5, 4 gradi). High numbers occur in both flat region 6 (17 gradi) and in steep regions 7 and 10 (16, 12 gradi). Thus, gradi do not seem likely to correspond to stepped streets.309 Paving quality on new minor streets varied according to region and according to civic status, rather more than it does for major streets. At Winchester the metalling was in flint [260–400]. At Trier, the paving was in limestone slabs. The slabs of the roadway inside the city [300–400] seem to have been new rather than reused, according to the reports I was able to consult. However, the paving in the Altbachtal suburb included reused gravestones and shale, with kerbstones of spolia [367–93]. At Rome, basalt was standard, if often reused [306–12, 250–544.5], whilst new minor streets at Carthage, set over the harbour, were paved, although the stone type used is not recorded [530–55]. At Gortyn, the Pythion street had a pebble surface [365–90]. At Aphrodisias, the paving was in reused rectangular slabs, of very varied sizes and colours, sorted roughly into short rows, with some undisguised architectural decoration visible, and only limited cutting of angles to make slabs fit [250–614], not as finely laid as on main streets. At Pella, on the Eastern Tel, gravel was used [587.5–612.5]. At Scythopolis, on the acropolis, the paving was of rectangular slabs of different sizes, sorted into rows of uneven width [385–635]. At Caesarea Palestinae, mizzi limestone pavers, laid in a herringbone pattern, were found [550–614]. At Jerusalem, new paving was either in massive stone slabs 3.7 m by 1 m [500–543] around the ‘Justinianic’ cardo extension, or in smaller well-cut slabs of mizzi limestone [457–82], here just as fine as on the main streets. At Ostia, we see three viae tectae being built, whereby some side streets were given vaulted roofs, a practice attested in only a few cities. A late example is known from Ephesus, on the east side of the Baths of Scholasticia, where reused statue bases were used to support the 308  Stepped minor roads: L. Lavan site observation 2001–2013. 309  Gradus as bread distribution points: Matthews (2012) 113; Jones (1964) vol. 1 696; Chastagnol (1960) 315; Cod. Theod. 14.17.2–6 (issued from AD 364 to 370), concerning Rome.

137 piers for a brick vault [ca. 550].310 Libanius implies coverings over roads at Antioch in Syria, in his day [midlater 4th c.]. These would appear to have been of cloth or other organic material (‘lattices’), and were confined to back streets. At the semi-urban site of Trimithis, in Egypt, side streets have been excavated that were covered by flat roofs composed of beams fitted with reeds, onto which mud was applied.311 The existence of any covered streets would seem to flout the logic of building regulations, at both imperial and civic levels, which sought to maintain good minimum distances for firebreaks. It is perhaps not accidental that the known masonry examples of viae tectae come from within or adjacent to public buildings, both at Ostia and Ephesus. Similarly, at Antioch in Pisidia, it was the building of a theatre extension [311–13] which caused the main street to be vaulted over. Private construction was perhaps held to a different standard of regulations. I prefer not to comment here on the significance of balconies to minor streets, as this has already been considered by C. Saliou, and rests on legal evidence rather than on case studies of literary or archaeological evidence. I know of no late depictions of balconies, except on the sarcophagi produced in Rome, which show the consular adventus in an imagined Italian city. The form of the balcony depicted here is a broad platform extending the full width of a façade, retained by a wooden balustrade, of timbers crossed over as a series of x-letters, a form of balcony 310  Viae tectae: at Ostia (3), revealed by undated late piers, on Via della Forica, Semita Horreorum, Via dei Molini: see the map in Gering (2004) fig. 49, with L. Lavan site observation September 2012; that on the Via della Forica is presently being studied by Gering: Gering (2011) 457, 488; Heres (1982) 395; such covered roads are known in Early Imperial architecture within the city, though they are rare: e.g. alongside the Piccolo Mercato (I.viii.1); at Ephesus: this is a brick-vaulted portico that uses statue bases and other spolia as piers: L. Lavan site observation April 2013 with Thür (1999) 108, 114, who notes that it is likely connected with the adjacent two-storey mid6th c. ‘Kuretes portico’ (the south colonnade of the lower Embolos, see appendix C4). It was also made of brick, and that the function of the vault was probably in part to give access to the upper part of the portico from the baths on the north side of the via tecta; at Antioch in Pisidia: this vault was decorated by an inscription on its south side, of 311–13, for which see appendix F7a discounted section; at Rome (Early Imperial): two viae tectae are mentioned by van Tilburg (2007) 185, n. 267, on the Campus Martius (Sen. Apocol. 13) and outside the Porta Capena (Ov. Fast. 6.192). Here they are major roads, so it is likely that colonnaded (thus covered) streets are implied. A covered via tecta is known on the slopes of the Palatine over the Clivus Victoria during the 2nd c. BC, established during building works to create a platform for public gatherings: Favro (2008) 32–34. 311  Other street covering, at Antioch (projecting lattices): Lib. Or. 11.217; at Trimithis (beams covered by reeds and mud): Bagnall (2009) 2.

138 identical to those known from Herculaneum. As far as I am aware, we only know of two examples from archaeology, both coming from late public buildings: the Curia Julia in Rome, as rebuilt by Diocletian, and from the Constantinian Aula Palatina in Trier. Thus, I feel that such structures probably continued in central Italy, but may have been less frequent than we imagine, outside of this region, except perhaps on state buildings at Constantinople and in other imperial capitals.312 There is a significant amount of evidence for the continued maintenance of minor streets (Map 10b), far more than for the establishment of new secondary routes in expanded suburbs or in new cities. Our knowledge of the subject is uneven, being dependent on the valiant efforts of western archaeologists, especially those working at Mérida and Carthage, where a great deal is known. In contrast, we know relatively little for the East, although what we do know suggests an even higher level of attention to back streets than in the West. Many western cities see resurfacing of their backstreets in the later 3rd and 4th c.: in Hispania, we can see examples of both continuity and downgrading, with places like Iluro [320–450] and Complutum [200–325] witnessing continuity in beaten earth containing mortar and sherds or, alternatively, rammed conglomerate of clay, quartz pieces, crushed limestone, and beaten earth. Conimbriga sees three streets downgraded from paving to compact layers of sherds, tile, mortar and small stones [300–75, 300– 400, undated], although one was subsequently overlain with a brick surface [300–425]. Mérida sees a mixture of continuity, with a new paved street, of ‘Constantinian’ date but then downgrading, with river pebbles replacing large paving stones sometime after 400 [400–700]. In Britain, at Exeter [340–65], and in Gaul at Rheims [320– 350] and at Argentomagus [360–95], gravel and cobbles continue, though not at Trier. Here, at least 5 minor roads are given new limestone slab paving [269–395 × 4, 318–73]. No reuse is reported, unlike on new streets in the suburbs of the city. This represents upgrading at 312  Regulations on maintaining clear space around public buildings: Cod. Theod. 15.1.38–39 (both Constantinople, AD 398); 15.1.46 (Constantinople, (AD 406) (specify 15 ft to be left between public and private building). Space between wooden balconies and ‘Roman’ balconies: Cod. Iust. 8.10.11 (must be 10 ft, with 15 ft required for granaries,) (AD 423); Cod. Iust. 8.10.12.3 (Zeno to Adamantius, praefectus urbi (AD 474–79): PLRE 2.6–7 Adamantius 2)) puts minimum street width for new construction at 12 ft. Clause 5 of the same law (8.10.12.5) fixes 10 ft as the minimum distance which overhanging balconies must keep apart: Saliou (1994) 255–70 comments on these laws in detail. van Tilburg (2007) 25–31 provides an overview of Early Imperial laws and archaeological evidence of street widths. Late depictions on Italian sarcophagi: Wilpert (1929) vol1.2 table 21.4. On the Curia Julia, see appendix L1.

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Trier, as previously the back streets had always been in gravel. In Italy, at Ravenna, trachyte was used on an intramural back street, during the time the city was an imperial or Ostrogothic capital [400–540], whereas in the suburb of Caesarea brick was used [400–600]. At Rome, basalt was also being used in the new surface of a minor street by the Forum Romanum [303–83], whilst at Ostia a back road was re-laid using building rubble and broken mortar [346–89]. In Africa, Carthage saw new slab paving laid on three minor streets in the 4th to early 5th c. [330–86, 383–408, 410–35], and seems to have kept most back streets clean during the 5th. Elsewhere in Africa, we have only one undated side street of reused slabs, from Cuicul, although undoubtedly there were more works of this kind, not yet detected. In the East, repairs to minor streets are both more spectacular and more obviously planned on a largescale, over a slightly longer time, although still concentrated in the 4th c. Again, very few cities have been studied for this aspect of their history or have seen their side roads excavated. But where excavation has taken place, the evidence is impressive. Argos saw a large number of minor streets, perhaps all of them, repaved in reused slabs in 364–89. Ephesus saw back routes around the Embolos repaved in the same materials, carefully laid, as part of the renewal of the main north-south axis, including the Marble Street and adjacent avenues, in 410–36. Beirut’s minor streets were repaved on several occasions, around the House of the Fountains [360, 400–430, 430–50]. These paving operations were often very large-scale interventions, affecting entire quarters of a city, or perhaps the whole city. Elsewhere in the East, individual street repavings have also been detected at Patara in Lycia [rectangular slabs, not obviously reused, 337–62], at Alexandria [basalt and limestone slabs, 350–75], and at Syene (Aswan) [sandstone slabs, twice, 350–400, 400–700]. These may have been part of wider programmes, which might one day be revealed by more extensive excavations. Athens stuck to its own traditions, largely rejecting stone paving. A minor street on the Areopagus had its surface re-laid 5 times, the first in the 4th c., the second in the 4th–5th, the others probably later within Late Antiquity. A mixture of materials was used: ground rock, clay, sand, shingle, small stones, cinders, finely ground tiles, and pottery fragments. This road, winding through expensive houses, never adopted the paving seen on the adjacent part of the Panathenaic Way, preferring the non-paved traditional style of the city, seen further down on the same great avenue. The middle or later part of the 5th c. yields no repairs except at Beirut. Here, a minor street was repaved with a limestone flagged surface, built of dressed limestone slabs, laid perpendicular to the street, in the period

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475–500. The 6th c. was, however, a period of increased activity. At Carthage and Ravenna, backstreets were repaved. At Carthage, a 6th c. repaving can be detected on 6 different minor routes, in one case alongside a sewer, mostly part of a Justinianic renewal of the city’s infrastructure. However, this work which is not all closely dated was far from uniform in character, with new surfaces described as: small stones with a sewer [412.5–650], paving in small stones [410–600], large cobbles and flagstones [487.5–512.5], paving [550–698], flagstones [487.5–573], flagstones with a sewer [548–73], and paving [550–75]. At Ravenna, trachyte paving was re-laid on a minor street inside the fortified area [540– 600] and also extended to the city’s suburb of Caesarea [500–600], suggesting a similar movement to improve the condition of the seat of the new exarch. The great cities of Antioch [reused limestone slabs, 540–65] and Alexandria [dolomite slabs, 500–600] also saw individual examples of 6th c. paving / relaying on secondary streets, as did Caesarea Palestinae. At Caesarea, a massive mosaic carpet was laid down on the roadway of another lesser street (i.e. not a main avenue) in the later 6th or early 7th c. [546–614], perhaps recalling the 190 m long basilical hall of the baths of Tyre, paved in mosaic. This was long thought to be a street, dating from the 5th c., later repaved in opus sectile. Perhaps Tyre did in fact reflect a regional street fashion. At the same time, there is a lack of repaving on backstreets in lesser metropoleis and ordinary cities in the 6th c. Major regional hubs could be given new slabs, but elsewhere earlier paving sufficed, or could be patched. This suggests a political factor was at work. Given the expense of stone slabs, this is unsurprising.313 Very local minor repairs to paving of minor streets, were undertaken at Carthage [600–625], in plaster, at Hierapolis in Phrygia, and at Sagalassos [both 250–614], employing reused materials. Resurfacing at Athens (whether for the whole street or not is unclear) even extended to the filling of wheel ruts, which constitutes repair in response to use [300–616]. These traces of small-scale repair on minor streets have not often attracted the attention of archaeologists. However, they are highly significant. Their existence suggests that investment in urban roadways was not a projection of a classical urban ideal irrelevant to the masses. Rather, we can see that back streets were still valued for functionality. Many repairs were acts small enough to have been the work of individuals. Even so, Late Antiquity was still a time of some change for minor streets. Repaving, more

visible than other types of resurfacing, was still somewhat less common on secondary roads than on the main avenues. Sometimes, back streets might also be actively denuded, whilst main roads were repaired. At Aix, active maintenance was concentrated on major roads [pot holes repaired in mortared rubble, 284–687], whilst stripping and neglect appear from the 4th c., more especially the 5th, largely on the lesser roads. At Thracian Philippopolis, the street system, restored in ‘AD 270–82’, saw the main avenues being repaved and new paved routes being created, whilst other roads were left unaltered or stripped of their paving. At Sagalassos, stripping has been detected on some minor routes [400–614], whilst new slabs were laid on the main avenues and other improvements were made into the 6th c. Despite these cases, acts of denudation were still far less common than the positive maintenance of secondary roads, within the 4th c. West and the 4th to 6th c. East.314 A more significant difference seems to have been between the minor streets of a city core, perhaps delimited by fortifications and roads of all grades out in the suburbs. Occasionally, evidence has been collected which reveals a drop in quality when moving across a city boundary. Thus, the suburbs of Ravenna (Classe and Caesarea) have 5th to 6th c. road surfaces made of bricks set in mortar, but also surfaces of building rubble, crushed brick or ceramics, and occasionally dirt. This provides a contrast to the paving of minor streets of the old city, within the walls of Ravenna, which, as we have seen, were given trachyte slabs, even in the 6th c. At Milan, in the 4th to 5th c., the transition from the city to the suburbs, on leaving the Porta Romana, was marked by moving from a surface of basalt slabs to a pebble surface, even though this pebble surface led down a major colonnaded avenue finishing at a monumental arch [346–71, renewed 457–82]. Streets on the northern edge of Carthage saw beaten earth and cobble surfaces, in contrast to finer materials elsewhere, from the late 4th to early 5th c. This material replaced paving in some cases, but indicates a slight movement of suburban streets towards the city centre rather than real downgrading: slabs could be found on adjacent streets, whilst beaten earth had been used in this district for centuries. Sometimes, within cities, differences also emerge in the quality of paving: at Antioch, basalt was used for the main avenue, whilst reused limestone blocks served a side street; at Classe, the central axis of this suburb of Ravenna was repaved in trachyte, but this material did not extend to the minor routes that led off it [487–550];

313  Ordinary street paving and surface minor maintenance: see appendix J3. Tyre (Bath hall): Gatier et al. (2011) and Gatier (2011) and other articles in the same volume.

314  Denudation of minor routes, see appendix A6. For repairs and denudation at Aix, see appendices C10a and A6. For Caesarea Palestinae see appendix B7.

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N

A

B

C 0

100m

Figure B28B Paestum, central area, showing Early Imperial encroachments of minor streets

at Autun, the late paving on the cardo also does not seem to have reached side streets. Thus, in many places, it was probably possible to judge how far one was from the centre by observing the material on which one was walking. Unfortunately, evidence is not yet available from many sites to study this.315 Secondary streets were not often provided with amenities. Few had sidewalks in Late Antiquity, something that had been common at Pompeii and Herculaneum. A suburban road at Trier, built through the Altbachtal, was given one for a short distance (1.8–2 m width, [367– 92]), as were some streets in the new southern quarter of Jerusalem [ca. 2 m, 457–82], along with a significant secondary road at Antioch [ca. 0.5 m, 540–65]. At Ephesus, 315  Suburban street surfaces: see appendix B7, C9a, C9b and C10a for Ravenna, Milan (in extra-mural part of colonnaded street) and Carthage, for which also see appendices J1 and J3. For the difference between the city centre and areas in the suburb see appendices C3 and J3 for Antioch, B7 for Ravenna / Classe, C9a for Autun.

a minor street leading off the Embolos had sidewalks on both sides set within its Early Imperial paving, but these were eliminated in the late antique surface [410–36]. My impression is that, where sidewalks did exist, as in some cities of the West, no attempt was made to remove them, although I have not investigated this thoroughly.316 New sewers were maintained or installed for ordinary streets. This took place at Trier, as part of a refurbishment of the road system in the 4th c. [269–395], at Rome [306–12, relaid 375–400], at Ravenna in the 6th c. [540–600], and at Carthage throughout the period [383–408, 412.5– 37.5, 412.5–650, 548–73]. It can also be seen at Athens [300–500], at Aphrodisias [250–614], and at Caesarea Palestinae [550–614]. Gortyn’s Pythion quarter provides an example from the first half of the 7th c.317 As noted 316   Sidewalks: appendices J1 for Trier and Jerusalem, J3 for Antioch. 317  Sewers: Trier (appendix J3), Ravenna (B7), Carthage (J3), Athens (J3), Aphrodisias (J1), Caesarea Palestinae (J1),

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earlier, texts seem to suggest that oil lighting was so expensive as to be the preserve of imperial cities and some pre-eminent provincial capitals. Thus, we cannot expect it to have extended to many side streets. At Caesarea in Cappadocia, Basil records that the moon illuminated the streets of the city, but only those which were aligned in the correct direction, making other routes dark and so more dangerous.318 It is also possible that back streets were not as rigorously cleaned as the main avenues: for John Chrysostom, alleys (stenôpoi) were full of ‘mire’: unpleasant places to end up in, after dark.319 Encroachment of Minor Streets There are signs of a disregard for back streets, hundreds of years before Late Antiquity began, during the first three centuries AD. In this earlier period, the planning of public monuments and (less often) private buildings led to streets being narrowed down into alleyways or being sealed off entirely. Encroachments of back roads during this time are attested at Ostia (4 times), Pompeii (in 30 BC!), Paestum (3 times), Scolacium, Carthage, Priene, and Patara. This was not the same process as when insulae were merged to construct major new monuments: rather, it concerned works carried out in order to build a porch or some projecting apse which was not strictly necessary. At Paestum (fig. B28a), the encroachment is not just early, being underway from the 2nd c., but is also confined to building work on civic monuments.320 These trends often continued into the late antique period, sometimes increasing in intensity, notably in the West. At Ostia, back roads saw some limited encroachment, especially by public buildings but also by private structures. A number of secondary streets were narrowed, a long time before they were entirely sealed off from the Decumanus, a development which took place during 346–89. But it would be a mistake to think that encroachment affected the secondary roads of all cities equally, or that back streets of regular width disappeared as a result of these developments. We should also separate individual acts of encroachment from the systemGortyn Pythion (J1). Note that some streets here, as in Trier, are included because no monumental elements have been identified along their axes. In heavily over-built cities, often we cannot be sure that a street is ‘minor’ or ‘monumental’, and in the West such distinctions are sometimes less pronounced, in any case. 318  Unlit streets of Caesarea: Basil hex. 6.10 (PG 29.145) (ἀγυιάς for streets). 319  Alleys full of mud: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Cor. 11.5 (PG 61.94) (ἐν τοῖς στενωποῖς καὶ τῷ σκότῳ καὶ τῷ πηλῷ). 320  Narrowing of minor roads, by monumental buildings before end of 3rd c.: see appendix A7a. On urban practicality and encroachment led by public intervention at Pompeii, see Newsome (2009).

141 atic narrowing of streets, seen especially at Carthage, described earlier, which impacted on minor streets as much as major avenues. That process, which begins as early as the 2nd c. was so widespread that it must have been legally recognised and have involved the systematic sale of street land, rather than any usurpation.321 At a number of sites, extensive geophysical surveys, supported by systematic surface collection of ceramics, have revealed street plans with little or no evidence of change in the urban grid, despite intensive late antique occupation, with no sign of the encroachment of back streets. This situation has been detected at Ammaia in Hispania, Falerii Novi in Italy, Tanagra in Greece, and at Anazarbos in Cilicia.322 In the latter case, late antique churches were constructed so as to respect the street grid, although the streets were overbuilt in subsequent centuries.323 These examples form an important counterweight to positive attestations of encroachment. Alternatively, irregular city plans, revealed by both survey and excavation, demonstrate that well-ordered back streets were never fully implemented in all regions. They were neither adopted within all Romanised / Hellenised urban settlements, nor in all of North Africa, nor the Near East.324 Suburbs sometimes abandoned all constraints, as at Late Hellenistic Delos, or 3rd c. Thamugadi, where backstreets of extra-mural quarters were narrow and winding.325 Given such urban complexity, it is wise to avoid loading individual examples of encroachment with great significance. Yet, when the encroachment of 321  Encroachment of minor roads, at Ostia and Carthage: see appendices A7a, A7b, A7c. 322  Continuity of orthogonal minor roads, as seen by geophysics, supported by surface ceramic survey: in Italy, at Falerii Novi: Keay et al. (2000) esp. 70–73; in Greece, at Tanagra (grid of 4th c. BC survives to Late Antiquity with continuous rebuilding of walls, confirmed by surface cleaning to supplement geophysics): Bintliff and Slapsak (2007) 104. In Hispania, at Ammaia there has been a magnetometer survey, but no pottery pick up. This revealed a lack of encroachment in the central areas of the city, but some cases on the south-east side, notably an apse built out narrowing the street: Corsi, Johnson, and Vermeulen (2012) esp. 126–33, noting 132, fig. 8 (insula XXXV and XXXVI). 323  Continuity of street boundaries: see n. 346–47; at Anazarbos: recent geophysical survey confirmed the loss of the street grid in the post-antique period. Yet, careful study of the late antique churches revealed that they respected the street grid, in contrast to what seem to be subsequent developments: Posamentir (2011) 212–16. 324  Unorthogonal backstreets in Romanised / Hellenised settlements: e.g. Thugga: Khanoussi (2003) 139–43, with 141 fig. 6; Gerasa: Seigne (2008). 325  Suburbs without grids, at Delos: Bruneau and Ducat (2005) 117 with ‘depliant 7’; at Thamugadi: see map in Lassus (1969) and dates of monumental buildings within western quarter, described in this book.

142 minor streets is studied within extensively-excavated cities, such as Mérida, Ostia, and Carthage in the West, or Philippi, Apamea, and Ptolemais in the East, it seems that we can identify different types of invasive building and suggest processes which might explain them. Firstly, we can observe the planned ‘blocking off’ of minor routes from the main street, sealed by sidewalks, colonnades, fountains, or new public buildings: as at Ostia [326–75, 385–89, 364–400], Cuicul [sometime before 295], Thamugadi [undated], and Apamea [487.5–512.5]. Here, it seems that civic and imperial architects were focusing on monumentality, at the expense of access, cutting the back roads out of the main avenues, which were likely pedestrianised. But before getting completely carried away, we must remember the street fountains set on main avenues at Pompeii and Herculaneum which, in much earlier times, had blocked side-roads and sidewalks in a directly comparable manner.326 Secondly, we can talk of streets being ‘accidentally’ narrowed or blocked for the purposes of public buildings and churches. This was not to permit the installation of a major new monumental complex, but rather it was done in an unnecessary manner, similar to the Early Imperial examples just referred to above. It seems to be mainly a western phenomenon, being less present in the East Mediterranean. At Rome [336], Thamugadi [undated], and Lepcis Magna [533–625], minor streets were partially or completely given up to church apses. Blockings are also known by churches at Sitifis [355–378], at Thracian Philippopolis [313–616], and for a church at Hierapolis in Phyrgia [450–546]. At Philippi, 4 minor roads were blocked for church construction, at different times in the 5th–6th c., making this urban quarter one of the most encroached of any Mediterranean city, perhaps following Western trends. One might blame the city’s bishops, had not a civil basilica narrowed one back street with a new apse [284–616] and a sigma plaza blocked two more roadways [250–616], within the same city. Only at Carthage can similar encroachments be seen involving a secular public building: here, a vestibule for a public baths was built out onto the street [375–425].327 It is difficult not to see a disregard for back 326  Minor roads blocked by monuments and porticoes embellishing main avenues: at Ostia: see appendices A7b, W1, and X2; at Apamea: see appendix C3; at Thamugadi: appendix H1 (undated, but possibly 3rd–4th c.). Fountains of Herculaneum: Hartnett (2008b); of Pompeii: L. Lavan site observation February 2019. 327  Minor streets blocked by churches and public buildings: see appendices A2b and A4b for churches, X1b civil basilica of Philippi, X2 for sigma plaza of Philippi, A7b for vestibule of baths at Carthage.

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roads in these developments, especially in terms of traffic flow. The new walls would have inconvenienced the ordinary vehicle user, a different attitude to that seen in the first type of encroachment, which looks like planned pedestrianisation. At Ostia, it seems to co-exist with functioning vehicular traffic routes via the back roads, as Gering has demonstrated.328 Thirdly, we can observe the encroachment of backstreets by grand houses, usually narrowing the roadway rather than blocking it entirely. This type of encroachment is also present in the parts of the West from the 4th c. (affecting also main avenues in south-west Gaul and Hispania), and on a few occasions in the northern Balkans from the 5th c.: it occurs at Thassos [383–408] and at Thracian Philippopolis [244–616]. However, in the latter case, encroachment happens when the street had already fallen out of use. At Mérida, the encroachment of streets by private houses was considerable, even in the 4th c., with invasions of both porticoes and roadways: it is attested twice from well-documented excavations [360–85, 500–700] and in 4 other ‘Late Imperial’ cases, in and around the Morerías suburb, two of which included private baths, although some others may be of low status. At Barcelona, a large domus expanded its baths onto a road already cut by the Augustan and late antique fortification line [300–575]. At Complutum, porticoes seem to have been taken in by large houses from around AD 300, although not the road itself, except where it was entirely blocked by a public monument. At Mérida [pending] and Elusa (south-west Gaul) [300– 400], large houses even extended over the roadway of major streets. Yet, road over-building by houses was not common outside Hispania / south-west Gaul before 400: it was notably absent from Ostia, where public buildings were normally responsible. The phenomenon continues in 5th–6th c. Italy and Hispania, at Rome [400–500] and at Barcelona, where the episcopal complex took in a minor street to use as an internal corridor [587.5–612.5]. A single eastern example is also known from a suburb of Arabian Pella in the 6th c. [580–749].329 In interpreting this third process, I suspect that these encroachments still had civic permission, as many of them involve larger houses. The phenomenon might signify the assertion of influence by patrons well-placed within the municipal government, rather than a general loosening of regulations. Undoubtedly, it also reflects lack of care from city and from patrons for back 328   Pedestrianised main street and vehicular traffic on back routes, Ostia: Gering (2004). 329  Minor streets converted to housing: see appendix A8b. Such encroachments at Carthage should be ignored if they fit within the pattern of systematic street narrowing seen in this city, discussed above in the main text prior to n. 124.

Street Architecture in Late Antiquity

roads. These encroachments came with a disregard for the functionality of minor routes in some cities, especially in the West. The eastern attitude to back streets was more positive, and was brought back into the West in two places, though with some subtlety. At Ravenna, the construction of a canopy porch from a domus in the 5th-earlier 6th c. [400–540], blocked a minor route. This did not discourage subsequent 6th c. road improvers. Rather than remove the porch, they paved with trachyte the two cul-de-sacs created by it, like any other roads within the core of the city. Something similar can be seen at Carthage, in one case, when encroaching piers and buttresses from earlier in Late Antiquity were respected by urban authorities of the later 6th c., who renewed both road surfaces and sewers. In this city, there are many late antique examples of the expansion of domus on streets [300–375, 385–410, 400–25, and in three more cases]. Nonetheless, these should be downplayed, as they occur within the systematic street narrowing, to a predetermined width, seen in the city since the 2nd c.330 We might suspect that some urban communities had legal arrangements or civic customs that made encroachments of minor streets easier than in other places, so long as they involved no damage to the beauty of the city. Both Carthage and Philippi stand out as (prosperous) cities which might have promoted such attitudes, long before either Vandals or churchmen made an appearance. Fourthly, a more subtle process of patronal influence can sometimes be seen over back roads: that of ‘cantonment’. At Ostia, A. Gering has noted that a number of minor routes were closed off from the main streets by late walls, which were erected as simple barriers. These were unconnected with monumental buildings and were built on insula boundaries, rather than just haphazardly blocking roads. The walls seem to create ‘cantonments’ based around property boundaries defined by pre-existing insulae. Two of the blocking walls include a lockable ‘front door’, replacing what was once a junction with the main street. In one case, a rough inscription by the gate—‘Faleri’—might indicate ownership of the closed land behind. Such details should not be ignored, as alleyways with doors are known in the late antique bourgade of Kfar Samir (‘Castra Porphyreion’) and reflect the assertion of a different attitude to private interests in street space. Analogous changes can be witnessed at Caesarea Palestinae, in the latest ancient phase of the city [4th to early 7th c.]. Here, some of the 330  Repaving and renewal retaining encroachments in the 6th c., at Ravenna (appendices E1, C11 and J3, Via D’Azeglio) and at Carthage (appendices A8b and J3, cardo 17E, at junction with Decumanus 1N, Magon quarter).

143 alleyways that penetrate into the relatively large insulae of the city were provided with a doorway—suggesting property rights. All the same, they were still given drainage and water pipes, suggesting they were part of public space. One wonders if such developments are reflected in a law of 439, which imposed fines on those who enclosed secondary streets within their buildings.331 At Ostia and Caesarea Palestinae, the assertion of ‘cantonments’ co-existed with the continuing monumental maintenance of the official streets of each city’s grid. A slightly different process has been noticed in Lycia, at Limyra (5th to early 6th c.) and at Olympos (‘Byzantine’), whereby parts of the city were walled off into distinct quarters by either fortifications or boundary walls.332 These doors and barriers gave property owners direct spatial control over their neighbourhood. At Limyra, the transformation of the city was undoubtedly linked to changes in the water table, so may be an irrelevance. The cantonments seen at Olympos, defined by thin boundary walls rather than fortifications, are more subtle. Some sort of cantonments may have existed in the eastern capital, suggested by the naming of districts of Constantinople after great houses built under the Theodosian dynasty.333 The existence of such district names suggests a degree of official recognition for the realities of private patronage. Perhaps the religious quarters established in some Levantine Islamic cities were not entirely without predecessors. Admittedly all such cantonments were Islamic, rather than Jewish or Christian, and located outside / on the edge of cities. However, a degree of spatial control, in the districts around great houses, may also have been a social reality in Early Imperial times, which just became somewhat more visible in the late antique period.334 331  ‘Cantonment’, at Ostia (walls and doorways): Gering (2004) 343–49 (with doorways across streets attested at Via dei Lari and Via della Casa del Pozzo); inscription (at Via dei Lari): L. Lavan site observation 2010; at Kfar Samir (‘Castra Porphyreion’): appendix B5; at Caesarea Palestinae (doorways to alleyways) in south-west zone of city: Porath (1996) 117. Enclosure of secondary streets (angiportus): Cod. Iust. 8.11.20 (AD 439). 332   Walled quarters: at Limyra (inside 5th–6th c. fortifications): date from preliminary comment made by excavator Marksteiner (2008) 229; see also Gerd et al. (2016) 206–207who state that the fortifications were built in the late 5th / 6th c. and that the road paving in this area is 6th c., based on ceramics; at Olympos (walls, with a description of walls round late antique basilical church A): Parman et al. (2006) 70–75, 77–81. 333  Quarters named after great houses at Constantinople: explored by Magdalino (2001) 53–72. 334  Parallels for cantonment: at Canterbury (later Middle Ages): see Urry (1967). Early Islamic cantonments outside / on the edge of cities: e.g. Ailia / Ayla and Philadelphia / Amman: see Damgaard (2009) and Arce (2008), though noting on p. 199 that the palace quarter at Amman seems to have hosted the

144 Fifthly, one must consider the impact of new fortifications on urban street systems. One can point to the installation of small citadels within already fortified cities in the 6th c., as at Caesarea Palestinae.335 This is a similar development to cantonment and will have involved the disruption of minor streets in some cases. Certainly, the establishment of more extensive Late Roman fortification circuits played havoc with the road systems of many cities. Unfortunately, peaks of investment in street architecture do not correspond with peaks of investment in fortifications in many regions [e.g. 3rd or early 5th c. Gaul, 6th c. Africa]. The former often reflect civilian prosperity, the latter military necessity. This means that it is difficult to study the relationship between walls and streets. Where late building works on both are present, in the Balkans, we see an urban model derived from forts, based on axial colonnaded streets leading to gates. Clearly, at such places, the gates acted as funnels of traffic and must have had an impact on the display of statuary, public notices, gathering points, and related commercial activity. That said, no Balkan sites have had enough of their infrastructure or architectural elements excavated to permit a proper analysis. In regions with older, more ‘classical’, cities, there are again only a few cases where the effects of fortifications on streets can be observed, due to overbuilding or lack of scholarly interest in secondary routes. At Mérida, roads close to the enceinte apparently saw more encroachment in Late Antiquity, than elsewhere in the city, although the fortification itself dated from the Early Imperial period. The same situation is recorded at Barcelona, where encroachment next to the city wall began in the Flavian period. We see the process repeated at Serdica, where streets by the walls were encroached sometime after 400, whereas others were not. Construction activities in the intervallum street at Pautalia, 90 km south of Serdica, apparently began in the time of Aurelian or Diocletian [pending] suggesting that roads by walls were always vulnerable. An impact Christian bishop, as hostage or servant, but not the main Christian population, amongst its mosques and other structures; Damgaard (2013b) 288–96 points out that late antique imperial palace quarters were similar in conception. 335  Citadel, Caesarea Palestinae: dated by mention of a kastron in Life of Anastasius the Persian 20, 22, 23, 25 and a hoard found there, with the latest coin being of Justin II (565–78) or Tiberius II (578–82). The theatre received a kolympèthra using reused material sometime in Late Antiquity, the subsequent kastron is likely to date to the end of Antiquity: Frova et al. (1965) 57–92 and 124–28 (for theatre conversion); 231–34 (for hoard). Repair to structure in AD 878–83, 264–70 (A.H.): Šārôn (1999) 275–77 (no. 8). On citadels within late antique / Byzantine cities see: Triolo (2009).

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can be seen at Sagalassos: the street leading to the northwest gate in the city wall became a hotspot of late activity, both in terms of graffiti and of building works. In contrast, other streets were rendered useless by the new fortification [383–408].336 The abandonment of perimeter fortifications could have an equally disruptive impact, as decisions were taken to defend selected strong points. Thus, Ptolemais saw fortified blockhouses built over its streets during the 5th c. [405–507], when the abandonment of a perimeter fortification seems to have led to street boundaries being disregarded. The city itself continued, with a bath house being restored and other signs of traditional occupation returning. Elsewhere, the creation of such fortresses within cities is usually associated with the end of classical urban space. At Ptolemais, this end came somewhat later, although the site is so far without a close parallel. Admittedly, there remain a few cases of small-scale modest encroachment, which look like ‘decay’. On main streets, we see examples of such modest unplanned walls within porticoes at Luni [undated], Carsulae [undated], Lucus Feroniae [250–544.5], Tipasa [402–557], Nicopolis in Epirus [undated], Justiniana Prima [535– 616], Aizanoi [twice, 402–557], Sardis [400–641], and Petra [363–88]). It is likely that these encroachments were the result of opportunism, of people of modest means: they are limited to a single room or a series of unplanned rooms, where more careful subdivision would have been possible and advantageous. One wonders if such developments represent the end use of a structure, or some special purpose that is lost to us. At Tipasa, it is clear that the portico / porticoed sidewalk was enclosed after a fire devastated adjacent high-class housing and after industrial uses had taken over. Roadway blockings are known at Carthage [three times, 439–698; 534–698; 650–98] and at Pella [580–749]. Yet, an oft-cited oil-press at Sufetula, built over a side road, might not be an example of individual initiative: it is structurally connected to an adjacent church, so likely represents an ecclesiastical act rather than that of a family [534–649]. Of these, only Pella is truly noteworthy, as blockages at Carthage, in two cases which are closely dated, relate to the final troubled century or so of the city, leading up to 698.337 Whilst encroachment by ordinary individuals was still not often tolerated, it was perhaps a little more 336  Fortifications disrupting road systems: see appendix A9. 337  Minor encroachments, within porticoes on major roads: see appendix A5c. Minor encroachments on back roads at Pella (appendices A5g and A8b) and at Carthage (appendix A7c, although one case is discounted on account of excavation chronology, and the others are based only on sewer pipe trenches, which may not be as clear as Ellis wished them to be.

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present in Late Antiquity, in both the cities of the East as in those of the West, than it was earlier. It was led by official acts and by the authorised trespasses permitted to powerful people. Such incidences of encroachment by no means overwhelmed classical street forms in the late antique city. The scale of private encroachment, even of back streets, does not approach the comprehensive division of streets into yards and cul-de-sacs as envisaged by Sauvaget, who sought to describe later medieval Damascus and other cities of the Near East.338 Invasive building works, both public and private, are still best seen as pragmatic exceptions to continuing urban rules, rather than representing their abolition. We should perhaps think of Late Antiquity as being a period where rules protecting public space were followed, just in a slightly looser fashion. This was a period when a porch might be extended out onto the road in front of a great house, or an apse might narrow a side-street, but in which major modifications to public space would need some form of official backing, normally rooted in law or custom. Even the actions of a modest person, building onto a roadway, can be understood: there might have been a civic blocking of the same street further along its course; or the accessibility of streets to wheeled transport might have been re-planned. Furthermore, the encroachment of minor routes is a complex and multifaceted process, which might co-exist with the maintenance of monumental avenues or even of minor streets. Only by excavating sites on a large scale, as at Mérida, Carthage, Ostia, or Caesarea, can we really correctly interpret the significance of these processes. Against the urban development of a whole city, ‘encroachment’ can start to make wider sense as a modification but not abolition of the classical urban order. A long-term perspective also allows us to identify more accurately what factors might be responsible. It should not be forgotten that alleyways did sometimes replace wider roads in minor cities which were losing their status as a classical civitas / polis, even as they remained centres of population. The unstructured narrowing of major streets can be seen, for example, at 5th c. Messene [346–95], at Ariassos [313–614], and in the late 6th c. phase of Justiniana Prima [565–615].339 Such cities seem to have seen a cessation in secular public building at the time of these developments, suggesting that their city councils / councils of notables had entirely disappeared. The end of regulation suggests a loss of interest in the aesthetic and legal framework of 338   Sauvaget and encroachment: see chapter on shops and markets. 339  Chaotic narrowing: see appendix A10.

145 urban life, as far as collective rights were concerned. In small places, usurpation was perhaps only hindered by the need to access properties, and the ability of ones’ neighbours to impose their will. In some settlements, the presence of collapsed ancient buildings, fallen in earthquakes or from old age, may have hindered the maintenance of a regular street system. In 3rd c. Ostia, a fallen house façade blocked a minor road, whilst, in later 4th c. Argentomagus, a public building fell onto the main street [370–95]. We can imagine that at Ostia the fallen wall was simply buried by a higher street level, post-collapse, as streets do appear to rise up in this district during the second half of the 3rd c. But such catastrophic events could produce a physical as well as a legal process of street degradation, if the inhabitants decided to give up, rather than repair their streets. The potential impact of wholesale earthquake destruction can be seen at Scythopolis in 749, where the level of damage fundamentally altered the layout of the city.340 It is very striking that the encroachment of minor streets can be divided into different geographical tendencies. There were clearly ‘regional cultures of encroachment’, in which public space was modified or given up, according to different legal and political priorities. It seems that, in Hispania, building on street space was mainly the prerogative of wealthy citizens, who sought to extend their urban domus, whilst in Italy it was led by the needs of the city councils who wished to facilitate the extension of public monuments. Patrons had to be content to close off the boundaries of their insulae with walls and doors, if Ostia can be taken as representative. In Asia Minor and the Levant, space was normally only given up to improve the commercial amenity of city centres, whilst in Africa a mixture of all of the above processes was at work. In particular, ‘cantonment’ manifested itself in very different ways in different regions, so much that one might doubt that the underlying causes were actually the same. Chronologies of change were also very diverse, with Italy leading the way: here encroachments occurred already in the 1st and 2nd c. AD. Then, during the late 3rd and 4th c., we see similar developments take place in Hispania, although in Africa (outside Carthage) encroachment did not really begin until the 5th c. The same century was also a key time for the installation of cellular shops, in porticoes in the East. Over time, new examples may reveal further 340  Collapsed ancient buildings obstructing roads, at Ostia: A7b; at Argentomagus: see appendix C4 on porticoes; at Scythopolis see Foerster and Tsafrir (1994); Tsafrir and Foerster (1997) figs F and 48, 54, 57 (for details of destruction); Tsafrir and Foerster, (1992).

146 trends, or obscure some of these differences, but at present it seems that distinct factors caused these, with quite varied implications for the control of civic authorities over urban space. Streets After Late Antiquity: Persistence and Destruction Persistence of the Street System If contradictory images have plagued the study of streets in Late Antiquity, this has been less true for the Early Medieval period. In some regions, the contrast with earlier centuries has been so strong as to raise the question as to whether cities now existed at all. This is usually answered in the negative for Britain and hotly debated in Italy. I do not want to review these issues here. Neither is it possible to cover examples where streets were abandoned or obliterated at different times, during the 5th–7th c. transition to the Middle Ages, across the former Roman world. At the same time, it is necessary to note one of the surprises of Early Medieval urbanism: that, in many Mediterranean cities, classical street grids dating from the colonial eras of Greece and Rome survived far beyond the late antique period, without road divisions being obliterated. Ancient street grids have survived so well that they are still obvious to visitors to Barcelona, Verona, and Naples. This has now been well-studied, from air photos, street maps and, in some cases, allotment boundaries. Examples of extensive survival are known especially in Italy, and to a certain extent in the Levant, but also in Gaul and northern Hispania. Elsewhere, grids seem to survive in major cities, often ports with strong political institutions, such as Thessalonica, Rhodes, Antalya, and Sinope. The survival of grids is weaker in areas conquered by the Early Islamic armies but can still be attested in a few cases.341 Quite what such survival implies in terms of real road use is not certain. In a few places, it has been possible to determine the quality of continuity in street layout into the Early Middle Ages. At Antioch and Damascus, some streets lines survived, although roadways were divided internally, into alleyways. In the Levant, as far as we can tell, substantial changes do not seem to have occurred until after the end of the Umayyad period, perhaps many centuries later.342 Yet, set against positive examples of 341  Survival of streets grids in Middle Ages: Gauthier (2008) esp. 143. Street grid survival as property boundary survival, in Gaul: Pinon (2008) 129–40; in Italy: Ward-Perkins (1984) 180; Ward-Perkins (1988) 20; (1990) 223–29. 342  Axial subdivision of streets into parallel souks, at Antioch, Damascus, and other sites: Ward-Perkins (1990) 223–29; (1996)

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street creation and maintenance, from ʿAnjar, Jerusalem, and Gerasa (fig. B10b), we have other evidence, which gives a different impression. At Apollonia, a street built shortly after the Islamic Conquest was narrowed, within the period 637–749, from ca. 3.5 m to ca. 2–2.5 m. At Palmyra, a row of shops was built down the centre of the main street, dividing the roadway in two, under the Umayyads (fig. B29) [634–749]. At Scythopolis, major avenues were narrowed following the earthquake of 749, but many of them had already been narrowed, first by enclosing the porticoes, and second by building out onto the roadways themselves, with both phases falling within the period 534–749. At Sepphoris, the Decumanus was reduced in width by ca. 2 m to 3.7 m, by a series of irregular walls built in the portico and out onto the road [600–612.5]. The main street at Gerasa, south of the tetrapylon, was also narrowed, although this seems to be as early as 387.5–602, based on associative coin finds. In Cyrenaica, at Ptolemais, the eastern avenue width shrank by about half, to ca. 11 m, by a line of rooms built over the porticoes and road surface [642– 1000]. They were built in masonry comparable to that of walls built on top of a nearby house, which itself reused a Kufic inscription (fig. B29). The reduced width of the eastern avenue in this city is depressing but its residual width and overall organisation suggests that street planning continued deep into the centuries of Muslim rule.343 A key piece of evidence is still absent: we have, as yet, no entirely new urban development from the Abbasid period, where the Roman monumental street has or has not been employed.344 In Italy, excavation has revealed the Early Medieval maintenance of surfaces on major streets: re-metalling was in irregular materials, of a standard usually well below that seen in Late Antiquity.345 Continuous street frontages have been recorded in structural sequences at Milan, Verona, and Ravenna. Nonetheless, it has become clear that these streets, although not built over, were raised up high above the ancient paving, by medieval silting and cumulative metalling, in place of the 158–52. These works are inspired by Sauvaget (1934). A recent discussion of the state of the debate is in Saliou (2005). 343   Post-antique narrowing in the East: see appendix A10. 344  On streets of Abbasid period, Middle East: see Wirth (2000) 34–44. On streets in Mesopotamia see n. 46 above. 345  Early Medieval repair of road surfaces: Bologna, continuing use and maintenance of street after late antique cocciopesto (likely to mean mortared rubble), the weaker materials until new surfaces of 11th c.: Ortalli (1984) 379–94; Brogiolo (1987) 34. Tuscania: street paving remained in use and extended on different alignment in late 1st millennium: Potter and Gianfrotta (1980) 446–47. These references are mainly derived from Potter (1995) 95–97, and so represent only a superficial effort on my part.

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Hierapolis

Back wall of portico

Sidewalk

Sidewalk Front wall, no Portico

Palmyra

Back wall of Portico

Front wall of Portico

Front wall of Portico

Back wall of Portico

Ptolemais Back wall of portico Front wall of Portico

Front wall of Portico Back wall of Portico

0

figure b29

50m

Comparative plan of well-organised post-antique street encroachments, building over the roadway itself: Hierapolis, Palmyra, and Ptolemais

sweeping and the systematic replacement of defective paving seen in Antiquity.346 In contrast, in some cities of the East, we can prove that street systems have come down to us through land boundaries within rural field systems, rather than anything urban. At Rhodes and at Antioch, aerial photos reveal continuity of property boundaries in fields even when ancient road systems 346   Real survival of continuous street frontages, at Milan, Ravenna, and Verona (in the last case to the 10th c., though placed some 6 m back from the Roman road edge): see appendix C10b. Also seen with continuity of street frontages in Emerita during the Visigothic period, though porticoes are privatised: Alba Calzado (2004) 234; Alba (1999) but 403 for an isolated encroachment of the paving within the Morerías site, where streets remain open. Another site nearby has portico encroachment but no definite invasion of street paving, beyond two stone piers, during the 5th–6th c. phase, built over only in the 11th c.: see appendix A5c.

were lost. At Patara, streets excavated around the baths seem to confirm this: the final structural elements at an ancient level are un-mortared featureless walls of rubble (field walls?); these follow the ancient street lines, although they do not appear to represent buildings.347 In later urban developments, the longevity of property boundaries might result in the reinstatement of an ancient street grid. Further, it has been suggested that the rediscovery of the Roman sewers at Pavia in the Middle Ages also encouraged streets to follow the earlier grid system.348 347  Street system preserved in field boundaries, at Rhodes and at Antioch: Ward-Perkins (1990) 223–29; Leblanc and Poccardi (1999) esp. 105–119, with figs. 6–12; Poccardi (2000) esp. 167–71 with figs 9–11b. Patara: L. Lavan site observation 2003. 348   Sewer system encouraging street reinstatement, at Pavia: Bullough (1966) 98.

148 In the Aegean region, it is rare to recover street sequences from after 600, suggesting that the most common story here was one of abandonment. Gortyn, Hierapolis, and Ephesus provide us with some idea of what surviving medieval streets might have looked like. At Gortyn, the city retained minor Late Roman street boundaries throughout the 7th c., despite the appearance of surfaces in beaten earth [630–738], beaten pebbles [600–650], or re-laid slabs [643–68]. At Hierapolis, the same period was marked by the building of a row of rooms over the paving of the main avenue, which narrowed it by about a half [610–900]; these constructions were set over a layer of earthquake debris of early 7th c. date (fig. B29). At Ephesus, the Marble Street was covered with post-antique walls full of spolia from the adjacent Hall of Nero, alongside statues and their bases: i.e. ruins immediately to hand. These walls reduced the street width by half [614–900].349 One is left wondering what the impact of such changes was in the eastern capital. We can envisage some survival of the architectural form of public space, based on arcades shown in a 13th c. depiction from Arta of the Hodegetria icon procession. As M. Mango notes, this is possibly set in the city. Furthermore, an 8th c. portico has been excavated at St. Paul’s in Rome, which looks no different to a late antique counterpart.350 But surely, some parts of Constantinople, perhaps on its periphery, began to appear rather similar to Gortyn or Ephesus. In the Augusteion, there was a substantial build up in the surface of the square, from the 6th to the 9th c., a change which seems plausible also for the Forum of Constantine. Streets and plazas might have later been repaved, but a fundamental disjuncture would have been created between the new level and that of surviving ancient monuments, just as the Roman antiquities of Italy seem to sink below the road levels of the Middle Ages. In other regions, notably in Egypt, Africa, and Hispania, it is not yet possible to tell the story of the street beyond the 7th c., although some degree of continuity can be expected. We must await future archaeological discoveries. The subsequent re-adoption of street grids, as partially re-established in northern Europe from the 8th c., is beyond the scope of this work. 349  Aegean street width survival Gortyn, ‘Pythion’ quarter (street of between 2 and 4 m wide survives from 4th to 8th c.): Zanini, Giorgi and Vattimo (2006) 899–907; Zanini, Costa, Giorgi, and Triolo (2011) 1104–1105, with 1100 fig. 1. For surfaces in Gortyn: see appendix B7, J1 and C9a. For Hierapolis see appendix A11. For Ephesus see appendices A11 and H7. 350  Cple, survival of porticoes: on the Hodegetria icon see Mango M. (2000) 205 with fig. 30; on the portico from St. Paul’s, Rome, see appendix C4.

chapter 1

Destruction and Replacement Finally, it must be admitted that in other regions the end of effective street-cleaning was not accompanied by continuity in property boundaries: quite the opposite. In Britain, in the Balkans, and in much of Asia Minor, we have large-scale abandonment, at different dates. In the Levant, we have the progressive obliteration of the classical streets, from 750 onwards, at a rate far higher than anything seen in late antique and Umayyad times. Here, the development of streets within surviving communities can be characterised either as the subdivision of Roman street space—as seen at sites such as Scythopolis or (without dating) Damascus—or as the abandonment of classical monumental avenues in favour of alleylike systems, seen already in unplanned bourgades. To describe this would, again, require a wholly different chapter, and perhaps another book, so it will not be attempted here. However, it seems important to state once more that this story of destruction and replacement is not equivalent, neither in its regional chronology nor in its nature, to the general development of urban streets in Late Antiquity, which had many other characteristics, resulting from very different processes. Conclusions Explaining Change The overall development of street space is clearly complex, especially if one is trying to draw out conclusions on the nature of urban life at a human scale. On the one hand, continuity with the past is greater than transformation, but, on the other, there are a number of general changes to the form of city streets which require explanation. Any idea of a catastrophic weakening of Roman law seems to be without foundation. Major avenues were clearly protected, and both archaeology and texts can attest to action against encroachment, just as was taken in earlier centuries. One is left with the feeling that in a few regions, if not all, there was a slight loosening of urban regulation, especially in relation to back streets, in favour of a degree of pragmatic permissiveness. This can be seen mainly in the construction projects of public authorities and of the private patrons who often presided over them. There are very few signs of encroachment being a bottom up development: rather, it seems to have been top-down. Even so, changes were usually small-scale, exceptions to the rule, with privatisation following existing customs or being the result of structured property alienations, as seen respectively in the ‘cantonments’ of Ostia or in the building of shops within porticoes. Chaotic individualism probably only

Street Architecture in Late Antiquity

played a role within bourgades and a few suburbs, where the reach of urban authorities was weak and where less formal structures existed to regulate behaviour. The decline of street grids in new urban foundations, in favour of rectilinear street systems, suggests perhaps an official indifference to earlier ideals of the city as a place of reason and colonial equality— divided into regimented lots for the first generation—in favour of the city as a place expressing urban representation. Change was slow, but in the late 4th / early 5th c., new grids were effectively discarded. From now on, they only appeared in new urban quarters when they were built over earlier classical sites. Nevertheless, a great deal of the street structure of the Hellenistic and Early Imperial period persists throughout the late antique period. The minor street itself survived very well as a basic unit of urban organisation and a large number of sites in the East show significant attention being paid to the paving of back streets. It was still important to maintain amenity right across a city. Admittedly, it would be foolish to ignore the desire of so many cities to develop new defining features of urban design, such as fortifications and extramural churches. But the classical minor street seems strong wherever monumental cities survived, with only Hispania and perhaps Vandal Africa rejecting it to any degree. The drive to monumentalise major streets can be understood in part in terms of a desire to impress visitors, perhaps to provide a backdrop to the adventus processions of imperial and ecclesiastical dignitaries. Amenity on these streets can be seen in terms of winning the favour of citizens in an ostentatious manner. But the amenity shown on back streets, in paving and sewers, and on main streets included invisible forms, such as smallbore water pipes. This suggests a provision of amenity for everyday domestic, commercial, and social activities, much of which would go unrecognised, nothing greater. Rather than being a very radical process, the late antique development of amenity seems to be the cumulative effect of many city councillors, bishops, pateres, and governors, desiring to build on and improve the classical urban model, which was already well-provided, but which they thought could be refined.More radical theories of urban change seem hard to credit. For example, the history of minor streets does not seem to owe anything to the increased use of camels or pack animals, at the expense of

149 wheeled vehicles, as envisaged by Kennedy and Bulliet.351 Indeed, when one considers the early date of many alleys, and of some encroachments, there is not any radical break to explain. Rather, pragmatic permissiveness, representation, and amenity slowly shaped the city. Limitations I have to admit that it has been difficult to identify specific changes in human activities within the city from a study of the physical form of streets, which my opening paragraphs anticipated. This is perhaps unsurprising, given that I have focused on the Mediterranean city more than those on the northern frontier, more on the 4th–6th than on the 5th–7th c. In the end, I have studied subtle changes rather than revolutions in street design. It has been hard to link all of these to the behaviour of people who used streets. Streets and squares are far less specific architectural frames for human actions than are markets, workshops, bath buildings, or houses. Furthermore, the weight of inertia in classical Roman architectural design, and perhaps the complexity of urban regulation, makes it hard to read people and activities from monumental buildings. A study of streets which reaches beyond the policies of city councils, the legal framework of urban space, or the dreams of architects, into human behaviour, really requires full engagement with the literary sources and with depictions of urban life available to us. I greatly regret that it is not easy to combine the archaeological evidence described in this chapter with these sources, in a very meaningful way. Our inability to walk through an extensive well-preserved street system, of both back streets and main avenues, with its original paving, further limits our interpretative ability. We only get close to this ideal at Ephesus, and, even here, the side roads soon disappear under earth. Further insights may come from careful visualisations of the streets I have described here. But for the moment, it is better to turn to the study of processions and everyday activities, which texts and pictures can attest to. These provide their own independent testimony of change and continuity in the streets of Mediterranean cities in the 4th–6th c.

351  Transition from wheels to hooves: Bulliet (1975); Kennedy (1985) 26.

chapter 2

Street Processions Introduction Processions might seem a somewhat exotic subject to an English reader, as if they do not really belong in a study of public space. Today, in many parts of northwestern Europe, they are becoming less frequent and have arguably been replaced by parades of individuals, gliding around by car or on foot, well-groomed and self-sufficient, without ‘hangers-on’ or ‘bag carriers’ to trouble them. Only in France and Ireland does a strong tradition of street rituals survive. Elsewhere, religious processions are the preserve of the elderly or their grandchildren; political protests attract mainly activists; parades of trade unionists are not what they were. There are some exceptions, as when carnivals, royal events, or sporting victories are celebrated. Even so, the number and scale of processions has diminished in recent decades. People who attend processions and marches are sometimes seen as being a bit odd, as if they lacked a certain definition to their personality or were unable to think for themselves. The honking of car horns is the mark of an ethnic wedding, rather than part of the culture of the majority. Recent memories of collective violence in parades have led to restrictions on protests by workers and left-wing activists, whose processions now seem slightly nostalgic in character, reflecting the customs and values of yesteryear. The modern individualistic consumer concentrates instead on shopping or relaxation in street space. We begin to forget the central role that processions played in public space not so long ago. In the cities of Late Antiquity, the situation was very different. Processions could be seen everywhere: in the daily promenades of wealthy matrons, who would not leave their homes without a train of servants, to the trains of magistrates, leading their officiales from one public building to another. Processions still occupied a central place in civic life, as they had in ancient cities since the earliest times, covering every facet of urban experience. They often constituted public events of great importance, as their records show, in depictions on public monuments, or in chronicles, such as Malalas and Theophanes, where processions are very frequently described. Some of these rituals—such as the adventus or the triumphus—have been well-studied for Late Antiquity.1 Others, such as the movements of brides or 1  Well-studied processions: the adventus: Liebeschuetz (1972) esp. 208–19; MacCormack (1972) 25–89; Holum and Vikan (1979);

punishment parades and funeral processions, have received little or no attention. Yet, even for the adventus, there are still new themes to explore, especially in terms of its physical appearance or its relationship to specific monumental buildings. Furthermore, we should not assume complete continuity between well-known processions of Early Imperial or Medieval date and their equivalents in Late Antiquity. Rather, it is necessary to fix an account of processions to evidence from the 4th– 6th c., so that the changes of the period can be properly documented and understood. By considering all types of procession in a single chapter, it is possible to appreciate a very significant area of public life. Of course, aside from processions, there were also static ceremonies in palaces, in law courts, in theatres, in hippodromes, in churches, and in houses. These were in some cases more important to everyday life than what happened in the rituals described in this chapter. But in streets and squares, processions seem to constitute the vast majority of all public ceremonies. I try to study them in a holistic manner. Although it has sometimes been possible for scholars to undertake the study of processions within individual cities, there are good reasons for adopting a broader approach.2 Even in major centres, we are not able to study more than one or two types of procession. Elsewhere, we often only have one reference per city to any type of procession, although for the empire as a whole evidence for processional types is often substantial. There also seem to be strong similarities across the empire, suggesting the existence of common cultural practices. We can see this in the adoption of eastern festivals in the West, or in the spread of Christian processional rites across the empire. Where variations exist, they tend to be manifested between cities of different types: imperial capitals and metropoleis having distinctive parades of their own. This is not to say that there were no regional trends, but it is easier to make sense of the evidence at a general level before Dufraigne (1994); Delmaire (1996) 42–45; Lehnen (1997); the triumph: see McCormick (1986), plus now Beard (2007) focusing on the earlier centuries, following Barini (1952) not seen and Künzl (1988). A critical work in stimulating contemporary interest is Baldovin (1987), considering religious processions from Late Antiquity onwards. 2   Processional life of individual cities: Rome: Latham (2007); Alexandria: Haas (1997) 81–90; Cple, Ephesus, Rome: Bauer (1996) 379–88, with other studies focusing on Cple alone, e.g. Bauer (2001), with Brubaker (2001) and (2013), with Berger (2001c) for processions of later centuries; on festival processions of Antioch: Soler (1997) and (2006).

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004423824_004

Street Processions

looking for local variations. Thus, the synthetic portrait presented in this chapter is intended to be valid primarily for surviving classical cites of the Mediterranean interior, rather than for ‘fortress cities’ found mainly along the frontier, although the latter seem to have had at least the same imperial and Christian processions as those of the interior. About Britain, north-west Hispania, the Mediterranean islands, and central Illyricum (including Epirus) one can say almost nothing. Given their wider urban development, the first three regions are likely to have been similar to Mediterranean cities, and Illyricum similar to the ‘fortress zone’. Conceptually, I have organised my description of processional life primarily by function, classifying individual types into the wider categories of ‘political’, ‘social’, and ‘religious’, with political processions subsuming those connected to state-supported entertainment, and religious processions subsuming those related to festivals. Although this classification is not without overlap, it does seem broadly useful, especially in establishing the relationships between different street movements. Whilst many processions contain several elements of each category, their main purpose does usually fall into one. There are some indications that these analytical classifications would have been recognised in Late Antiquity, although the category ‘social’ would have been divided into ‘leisure’ and other topics.3 I have not embraced typologies based on the physical form of street processions, as have been suggested by Dalmais, Wegman, and Baldovin. Of Baldovin’s categories, I feel that nearly all late antique processions were ‘personagecentred’ and that ‘participatory’ processions were few, such as: festival kômoi, supplications, and some Christian calendar processions which retraced Biblical movements. Rather, a great number of Christian processions, often classed as ‘participatory’, were to some extent ‘personage-centred’, focused on the bishop, as were some secular festival processions, as will be discussed later.4 Specific terms to describe processions and their forms are not easy to come by. In English, there are no hard boundaries in meaning between the terms procession,

3  Roman classifications of urban spaces: see Kaiser (2011b) 59–63, who demonstrates their survival into Late Antiquity. 4  Typologies of processions: discussed by Baldovin (1987) 238 who draws on Wegman (1977) 28, rejecting Dalmais (1955) 37–42. There are Christian participatory processions in addition to the ‘mimetic’ and ‘supplicatory’ processions, which B. identifies. Easter Sunday processions were, for example, not mimetic, but celebratory.

151 parade, and cortege, though all are in current use.5 In this text, I use procession for all collective ritual movements; parade for those processions where there is an element of theatricality in the dress, formation or movement of the participants, and cortege to describe that part of a procession in which behaviour is structured and closely regulated, such as the inner part of a funeral group with family members, clerics and slaves, but not crowds picked up on the way through town.6 My use of English words does betray a failure to produce a conceptual framework entirely derived from ancient languages, which is what I would have preferred. Late antique texts often do provide us with important labels and concepts from which to classify processions. Nevertheless, it should be noted that this chapter is behaviourally based, rather than philologically based. Ancient processional life was not only complex and diverse, but most of it was described very loosely by contemporary authors. So, rather than rely on computerised word-searches in the Thesaurus Linguae Graecae and its equivalents, I have tried to read sources in full, to harvest all types of procession, no matter what terms they might be recounted in.7 I have naturally considered processions which did have widely recognised ancient names, such as adventus / parousia, triumphus / thriamvos, litania / litaneia, rogationes, or kômos, though of these only litanies were habitually labelled in a clear manner. I have also included processions described by the generic nouns pompae / pompai, processus and processio, with or without qualifying adjectives. But if I had stopped here, I would have covered only a small part of the processional life of the late antique city. Many ritual movements were not labelled using nouns but were described vaguely, using verbs such as ingredere, procedere, transire, currere, ab/ ducere or traxere, and their equivalents in Greek.8 Events recorded in these terms also need to be included, in order to capture a full range of movements, from formal processions that were not given a name, to transitory 5  Definitions: the OED has: for cortege “a train of attendants, or of people in procession”; for parade “to march in procession or with great display or ostentation”, amongst several meanings; for procession “the action of a body of people going or marching along in orderly succession in a formal or ceremonial way, esp. as part of a ceremony, festive occasion, or demonstration”. 6  Thus, my definition of cortege is similar to that of Martimort (1955) 73, which stresses theatricality. His other categories are too specific to religious processions to be applied in my study. 7  I have made use of word searches for some patristic sources, such as Chrysostom, in translation, before checking original texts. 8  Ancient term equivalents: see a few comments in Bailey (1971) 96 n. 708 on Christian processional terms in Latin and Greek. Dictionary articles on the use of words for Christian processions (though not very useful), can be accessed via the works cited in Bailey’s n. 327.

152 street events which were spontaneous yet ritualised in character. For the purposes of this chapter, processions are defined as any collective street movement which involved an element of representation, whether it came from the participant or observer, being manifested in stylised actions or reactions, such as chanting, singing, adopting a special costume or marching formation. This definition goes as far as to include minor patrons, walking out with a small number of servants, even if they did not disrupt traffic or draw much comment. Such habits formed the cultural bedrock for the more spectacular public movements of magistrates, bishops, and patrons, which so enlivened late antique urban avenues. The following overview is intended to be generous, but it is certainly not designed to provide a full understanding of urban ritual in Late Antiquity. To do so would have been to move away from a study of public space for its own sake, into a study of political culture, with a consideration of the significance of ritual acts for the nature of imperial or ecclesiastical ideology, as S. MacCormack has done for the adventus of emperors. Rather, this chapter seeks to reconstruct the nature and frequency of street processions in terms of their immediate urban function and material appearance, with the intention of properly grasping the rhythm and character of human experience of the street. Admittedly, this is to downplay the significance of their socio-cultural meaning a little, in favour of physical sensations, something inevitable in what is essentially a topographical study. I do offer some conclusions as to the wider function of processions in late antique society, but prefer a finegrained analysis of the sources to one inspired by social theory drawn from other periods.9 At the same time, I am not seeking to illustrate one political or cultural aspect of processions from select case studies, as one might try for Rome or Constantinople. Rather, I am attempting to provide a general overview, which considers different processional types, in relation to each other, within the busy streets of Late Antiquity. I hope this approach yields some perspectives compatible with, and complementary to, those of others.

9  Approaches to processions from other periods: Messenger (1949) and (1950); Bailey (1971), all focusing on church processions in the medieval West; Felbecker (1995) considers earlier Antiquity and Late Medieval processions, though at some distance from the textual sources for the earlier period; Ashley and Hüsken (2001) with Gvozdeva and Velten (2011), interesting collections, mainly medieval, with stimulating introductions.

chapter 2

The Sources The sources for processions include some depictions, a little archaeology, and a great quantity of texts. These types of evidence vary in both their chronological and regional distribution, and in their nature, creating potential biases which will be considered here. Depictions of processions are few, idealised and simplified, usually illustrating only one moment during the event. They exist for the adventus of emperors, governors and relics, for consular inaugurations, for the processions of the wealthy to the baths, for some pagan devotional processions, and for circus parades. Such depictions evidently relate to the self-representation of the patron who sponsored the art, of what was usually ‘their’ procession, in which they took a starring role. Some epigraphic material exists relating to processions (mainly acclamations), but only survives at a few sites in the East. Direct archaeological evidence, of which there is little, is dealt with in a separate chapter, on street architecture, though the significance of monumental arches is considered here, as far as it relates to the triumph. Archaeologists would of course like to read the remains of ancient cities in processional terms, but it is easier said than done. It may be easy to pick out monuments relating to triumphal parades, to identify an extramural staircase or colonnade leading to a church, or to note small plazas that might have served as stopping places, but the vast majority of street architecture is not easily related to processions. I have not yet found any late antique parallel for the patterns identified at Pompeii, whereby ‘sordid’ cookshops were kept away from the main streets, a pattern which might indicate processions. Neither can one see a widening of streets leading to sanctuaries, as in Republican Cosa, where the road between the forum and the temple-crowned arx was not only broader but also lined with the largest houses. For most late antique sites, we would never have imagined the existence of processions without having read texts first.10 The different concerns and styles of the written sources strongly affect our understanding of street rituals. For political processions, our knowledge of imperial ceremonies is especially illuminated by the palimpsest that is the Book of Ceremonies, a prescriptive text, compiled in the 10th c. from diverse fragments, some of which are 6th c. in origin. It is nevertheless especially interesting as it takes the perspective of a planner of imperial ceremonies, with precise details on route, participants, and costume. Our knowledge of such ceremonies is extended 10  Potential archaeology of processions, Pompeii: Wallace-Hadrill (1995); Cosa: Laurence, Esmonde Cleary, and Sears (2011) 43, with fig. 2.3.

Street Processions

by panegyric, which provides a similar, if less systematic, account of these parades, as well as some idea of the intentions of the court. The same genre can also include satire and invective, which attack the processions of imperial enemies. When considered alongside more balanced descriptions from narrative historians, these sources can provide some sense of popular audience reaction. The impact of these occasions can also be seen in clerical descriptions of the imperial adventus, used to provide metaphors for the Second Coming of Christ. For everyday political processions by imperial officials and courtiers, chronicles are useful. The unusual treatise of John Lydus, de magistratibus, opens a window onto the structure and meaning of the cortege of the praetorian prefect. Details of the retainers accompanying ordinary governors turn up in a variety of texts elsewhere. Punishment processions are recorded mainly in hagio­ graphy, but also by other sources. Daily street processions by wealthy households are recorded largely thanks to pieces of social satire, included in narrative histories or Christian sermons. These criticisms of the wealthy provide detailed descriptions, but ignore the intentions of those planning them. Thus, the role of processions in social dynamics can only be glimpsed occasionally, in other sources. Furthermore, the concentration of this criticism in later 4th c. Antiochene-trained sources (Chrysostom, Ammianus, Libanius, and probably Asterius) makes one suspect the influence of a single school of rhetoric, though these same parades are described by others in major cities of the eastern and central Mediterranean. In contrast, social criticism of funerals is muted, although we have a lot of information provided by a wide range of sources on their organisation, intention, and audience reaction. Our knowledge of marriage processions is perhaps the most affected by literary genre: we have few actual descriptions and have to make do with wedding poems (epithalamia), which are both highly idealised and perhaps archaicising. For both funerals and weddings, we are obliged to focus mainly on the rich. For pagan devotional processions, we have descriptions and ideas of intention, coming from both pagan and Christian writers, although each are critical in tone. Traditional festival processions are similarly described by both types of writer, though again the tone is either disapproving or hostile; the perspectives of ordinary participants being confined to short remarks paraphrased in sermons of rebuttal. On Christian processions, the amount of detail is substantial: we have descriptions from the perspective of both spectators and participants. Notably lacking are the thoughts of non-Christians, who generally ignored these processions, or perhaps just did not consider them to be as significant as Christians claimed.

153 For the processions of Constantinople, the political context of ancient descriptions can be considered particularly important. Here processions are often recorded because of ‘great events’ which took place within them, which determined the fates of major political figures. As such, it is legitimate to ask how our sources have recorded a specific event. Given that imperial power might be at stake in street encounters, there were bound to have been differences in the way that writers portrayed the display of public honour and popular reaction to it. From the perspective of our own western individualism, with its many voices, we may feel that it is almost impossible to establish what really happened. Yet, whilst analyses of perspective are important, they are not essential to this study.11 Here, I am seeking to reconstruct the background normative language of processions which were active in the late antique period, as seen through a broad range of sources. These were collective street customs, not private encounters, intended to be understood by the whole community: what one might call a ‘grammar of street behaviour’. So, I feel it is not necessary to determine if all precise details of a textual account are ‘true’, but rather to note overall trends in the images they evoke, along with regional and chronological nuances. My focus on visualising the physical manifestation of processions also encourages this approach to a degree. The precise intentions behind, and urban impact of, individual processions may escape us. Nevertheless, a broad understanding taken from the literary sources, of how such processions appeared and what they meant to their observers, is often achievable. The relative quantity of sources for street processions, when compared to those for other late antique urban activity spaces—such as the law court, praetorium, macellum, or even the domus—is very great indeed. However, the chronological and regional distribution of these sources is, as ever, uneven. Dated archaeology, in the form of arches and other street monuments, repaired or built anew, extends throughout the period, and can be found round the whole late antique world. Acclamatory inscriptions, where they can be dated, are thought to be largely from the 6th c. to 7th c. and are confined to the East. Visual depictions tend to be concentrated in the 4th and early 5th c., due to the greater production of imperial relief art, sarcophagi, and silver in this period, though ivories provide images into the 6th c., as do coins, at least of the appearance of the emperor in procession. Depictions come from all around the empire, but when connected to court art they relate especially 11  The processions of Cple, in their political context, are being studied currently by P. van Nuffelen. For an analytical approach to the triumph at Rome, see Beard (2007).

154 to the imperial capitals. Textual sources are divided between a few laws, ecclesiastical canons, and many references derived from literary works. These are widely spread chronologically for most types of procession: we have 4th, 5th and 6th c. accounts of the adventus, consular inaugurations, punishment parades, traditional festivals, marriages, and funerals. Thus, those street rituals which seem to disappear in the later 4th to mid 5th c., such as pagan devotional processions, the daily processions of aristocrats, and traditional triumphs, do appear to reflect real changes in practice, as does the increasing evidence in the 5th–6th c. for Christian processions. Admittedly, we do have a concentration of evidence for punishment processions in the early 4th c., thanks to Christian martyr stories from the persecutions of the Tetrarchy, but these can be read alongside accounts of ordinary criminal parades from other sources, which can confirm features found in these writings. The geographical distribution of textual sources is more varied. They are concentrated in Gaul, Italy, Asia Minor, and the East Mediterranean, with rare outlying references coming from Hispania, Africa, Greece, and the Danube. No examples are known from Britain, Germany, and most of Illyricum. References come predominately from large cities, but not exclusively so, with villages featuring occasionally. The form of different processions does not exhibit much local variation, except, notably, in those relating to pagan devotional acts. Nevertheless, the geographical distribution of textual accounts of some processions does vary, suggesting regional variation in their popularity. For example, although accounts of the adventus are widely spread, there seems to be a disproportionately high number of references to this ritual (for all types of dignitary) from Gaul, Egypt and the Levant, as if it had special resonance for communities there. Other political processions and the daily movements of the wealthy are best known for imperial capitals, perhaps because here there was more daily street drama to be seen. Evidence for the festival processions of the Kalends is very widely spread, whilst the festival of Maiuma was clearly more popular in the East, where it originated. Evidence for pagan devotional processions is much thinner. Antioch at least provides evidence of their unpopularity in the 4th c., whilst at Rome they seem to have survived more strongly for longer. Christian liturgical processions are very visible in Gaul, whilst descriptions of processions of judges and parades of criminals are almost unknown here, as if law courts operated differently in this region. The scholarly lessons provided by this review of the sources are surprisingly positive. There is a broad spread of evidence for processions from across many regions of the late antique world, pointing to similar ritual prac-

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tices with limited local variations. One is rarely left with a feeling that the information recovered is inadequate, in quantity or quality, or so diverse as to prevent general themes from being perceived. However, some qualification is needed when characterising individual processional types. For example, for processions of the imperial court, some descriptions are set within the literary form of imperial rhetoric. Bearing this in mind, we have to try to evaluate if there was real continuity in rituals, or just continuity in name or literary description. We need to evaluate imperial processions against a background of conservative image making, which sometimes sought to reanimate traditional ‘Roman’ ritual as part of claims to represent the imperial tradition. This is especially true of the triumph, which had important symbolic significance for the legitimacy of an emperor in a military monarchy. Yet, this does not mean that we have to discount panegyrics of consular inaugurations in the 6th c.: a number of different texts confirm that it was a conservative ritual which had changed little. For other processions, we either lack distorting motivations which might bring bias or have a variety of source types which allow us to contrast their relative value. I shall, by default, treat such sources as giving us a credible impression. Political Processions The Adventus The most important political procession within late antique cities was the adventus, whereby arriving dignitaries were officially received by large crowds and public representatives.12 The right of cities to host an adventus could be guaranteed by law, as is clear in the Digest and implied by Cassiodorus.13 Thus, although unpopular officials and bishops might try to avoid the ceremony, by entering at night or in secret, such a gesture could lead to violent public protest or even their arrest by higher authorities.14 Participation could be obligatory for official welcoming parties too; for city councillors at Antioch, in the later 4th c., attendance at the adventus was compulsory.15 The function of the ceremony seems 12  Village adventus, an exception: Theod. Hist. eccl. 4.15 (exiled clergy greeted in villages under Valens). 13  Adventus guaranteed by law: Ulpian, de officio proconsulis book 1 in Dig.1.16.7; Cassiod. Var. 5.14.5. 14  Participation compulsory for arriving dignitary: bishop at Alexandria, arrested for avoidance in AD 367: Hist. Aceph. 5.11–13; magister militum at Edessa (fearing acclamations): Josh. Styl. 100 (AD 506/507). 15  Participation compulsory for reception party: non-attendance could lead to punishment: Lib. Or. 27.42, or other problems: Lib. Or. 56.1–2, 56.6, 56.9–12. Man with gout turning up: Lib. Or. 46.40.

Street Processions

to have been to allow imperial subjects, through coordinated chanting, to demonstrate appreciation of a ruler and to present complaints. Cities were also able, through careful choreography and precedence, to illustrate and confirm the relative social grades within their community.16 As such, the adventus was one of the most important political activities to take place in a city, which could define its relationship to a sovereign or his representative. The arrival of an emperor might be recorded in civic calendars long after the event, as for Constantine at Rome, whilst a spectacular welcome could be seen as a sign of legitimacy for a dignitary thus honoured, as it was for Athanasius at Alexandria.17 All classes of a city could be displayed in harmony, although sub-groups might still compete a little to provide honours, in the hope of lobbying for their own causes once the dust had settled.18 Equally, a ruler could project an idealised representation of his power in the adventus, through his comportment and through the finery of his cortege; he might also find himself overwhelmed by the glory of a city, which surpassed his expectations. Both of these tendencies affected the passage of Constantius II through Rome, but doubtless characterised the arrivals of inexperienced leaders in other great cities during the period.19 Types of Honorand The most important adventus was of course that of the emperor. Most frequent in imperial capitals, the ceremony was also seen in provincial cities during the 3rd and 4th c., when emperors were mobile, moving between frontier armies and imperial residences such as Trier, Milan, and Antioch. This ritual continued in the East, and to a lesser extent in the West, throughout the period, despite emperors becoming more sedentary: it is implied at Alexandria in 470/71, for the Caesar Patricius, son of Aspar, under Leo, and is attested at Orleans in 585, for King Guntram.20 A second related procession 16   Co-ordinated chanting: see nn. 66–67. Choreography and precedence: see nn. 55–60. 17  Importance to community: Adventus in calendars: Calendar of A.D. 354 October (28th and 29th) (Constantine in Rome, AD 312); welcome indicating legitimacy: Greg. Naz. Or. 21.28–29 (Athanasius at Alexandria in AD 346), with Bautz (1990a). 18  Importance to sub-groups: Gregory of Tours Hist. 8.1 (King Guntram at Orleans, honoured by the Jews, who he suspected of wishing to rebuild their synagogue, AD 585 (24th regnal year)). 19   Experience by city of rulers, representation of power: (Constantius II in Rome, AD 357): Amm. Marc. 16.10.6–12; glory of a city: Amm. Marc. 16.10.5–6 and 16.10.13–17. 20  Adventus of emperors, incidence: see nn. 29–31, 44–46, 47, below, with ‘boundary cases’ here; in Gaul: cities in the 350s received Julian with decorated streets: Lib. Or. 18.41. It has been

155 was that of the adventus of imperial portraits, typically at the start of an emperor’s reign. It might involve the same ceremonies as for the arrival of the emperor himself: an adventus is recorded at Gaza for the images of Anastasius, in Egypt for those of Justin II, and at Rome for those of Phocas and his wife. The custom is still attested at the council of Nicaea in 787, which recorded occasions ‘when the population rushes with candles and incense to meet the garlanded images and icons of the emperor … to honour the emperor himself’. In the literary account from Gaza, it is not immediately apparent that the adventus relates to an imperial image rather than to the arrival of the emperor. The two were equated: the sovereign / his numen could be physically represented by an image in a similar way to the manner in which a pagan divine image was ‘in­habited’ by a god, in traditional religious thought. Thus, at Constantinople, the emperor might even be represented in a meeting of the Senate by a statue, when the sovereign was thought too young to attend.21 We first hear of an adventus of imperial images in the 3rd c. AD.22 Unfortunately, we do not have any direct description of the reception of images for two hundred years after this, aside from a general allusion by Severian, bishop of Gabala from the first years of the 5th c. Nevertheless, the ceremony seems to have continued throughout the 4th c., as imperial portraits were also sent out by Constantine and Maxentius in order to gain recognition for their rule. Constantine did this as part noted that the last recorded imperial adventus in the West was at Rome in AD 404: MacCormack (1972) 728. However, the welcome given at Rome to Theoderic, to the imperial portraits of Phocas, and to Byzantine exarchs was similar, and the adventus of relics in Gaul suggests continuity into the 5th c., for visiting emperors (e.g. Avitus, Majorian) or imperial portraits. Note also adventus at Orleans, for King Guntram 585 (24th regnal year): Gregory of Tours Hist. 8.1; PLRE 3.567–71 Guntchramnus; at Alexandria, for Caesar Patricius (with μεγάλης φαντασίας): Theophanes A.M. 5961 (date AD 468/69 from Mango and Scott (1997) edn.), whilst other sources date his appointment to AD 470–71: PLRE 2.842–433 Iulius Patricius 15. 21  Images represent the emperor: see Lavan (2011b) 457–68 for references and secondary literature. For an εἰκόνα of Theodosius II brought into the Senate at Cple, see Lydus Mag. 2.9. For ‘Anastasius’ at Gaza: see next note. 22  Adventus of imperial portraits: generic: reception of portraits, with magistrates (ἄρχοντες) and the people coming to meet them: Severian of Gabala de lotion pedum 9 (given at Cple in the first years of 5th c.); at Termessus Minor in AD 253/54 (noted as a public event, though actual ceremony not recorded): IGR 3.481 = ILS 8870; Robert (1940) no. 113b; Price (1984) 175–76; at Gaza (Anastasius, AD 491–518): Proc. Gaz. Pan. (Or. 2); in Egypt (Justin II, AD 565–74): P. Cair. Maps. 2.67183, MacCoul (1984); at Rome (Phocas, ca. AD 602): Greg. Ep. Appendix 8; at Nicaea, AD 787 (received by Senate and clergy): C. Nic. II (AD 787) (Mansi 12.1014).

156 of an official protocol, on his accession in 306, whilst Maxentius did it as a deliberate political act, his images being sent to the African provinces to reassert his control after Galerius’ death in 311. In delicate times, emperors primarily communicated portraits between their capitals: Theodosius I received the portraits of Magnus Maximus in 384, to acknowledge his claim, whilst Anthemius sent his images to Constantinople after his accession in 467, with the same objective. Theodosius promoted his acceptance of Maximus by sending his images from his court on to Alexandria (and doubtless elsewhere), whilst Leo ordered laureate portraits of Anthemius to be sent to all the cities of the empire. These dispatches are likely to have been greeted by adventus processions in the provinces, as the consequence of accepting such images was to recognise the ruler.23 Generals and high civilian officials were also given a formal adventus, from praetorian prefects down to civil provincial governors. A governor’s adventus probably occurred in most cities at least once a year; a law from Ostrogothic Italy, likely reflecting Late Roman practice, suggests that governors were obliged to visit all cities in their province during their year of tenure.24 Bishops began to be accorded the adventus from the 340s. A few decades later, we find relics being given an adventus, on arrival at a city. The first recorded example is ca. 381, when the body of bishop Meletius was sent home to Antioch from the eastern capital. Sozomen informs us that ‘by the command of the emperor, the relics were received within the walls in every city, contrary to Roman custom, and were honoured with singing of psalms antiphonally in such places, until they were transferred to Antioch’. At Constantinople itself, a full adventus for relics is first unambiguously recorded in 438, when the bones of John Chrysostom were welcomed in this manner. In truth, a procession for relics is known in the capital 40 years earlier, when the remains of the martyr 23  Imperial portraits sent out to mark recognition of rule: of Constantine: Lactant. De mortibus persecutorum 25 (portrait received by Galerius who sends Constantine ‘the purple’ AD 306); of Maxentius: Zos. 2.12.1 (AD 311); of Magnus Maximus: Zos. 4.37.3 (AD 384); of Anthemius: Cer. 1.87 (AD 467); of Eudoxia to the provinces on her elevation as Augusta (AD 400), criticised by Honorius as an innovation, but perhaps also because it was done without the approval of the western court: Coll. Avell. 38.1–2 (CSEL 35.2 (1898) 85), PLRE 2.410 Aelia Eudoxia 1. 24  Adventus of governors: Cassiod. Var. 5.14.5. Also Lib. Or. 62.54, who records Themistius (PLRE 1.894 Themistius 2) governor of Lycia ca. 361 who honoured the festivals of every city in his province with an oration, which suggests that he visited these communities. For other examples see n. 66 (consularis Syriae at Antioch in 388, governor at Edessa in AD 449); plus Lib. Or. 46.40 (another Antiochene adventus).

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Phocas were received with ceremony into the city, and then taken out to a designated church burial site in a procession. That was led by the emperor and empress, going in part by sea, in the night, with a display of lights. We cannot be sure if the initial arrival here was a full adventus, but the ceremonial foundations for such an event were clearly in place at this time, and precursor processions for the arrival of relics can be seen in 406 and 415, in the same city. A distinctive adventus for relics is also recorded in late 4th and 5th c. Gaul and continued here into the Middle Ages.25 It is important to note that the adventus for bishops seems to have begun as a civil political honour, expected by the people or by the civic authorities. In the early days, there is no evidence that it had any liturgical role, and not all churchmen welcomed it. Martin of Tours rejected an adventus at Clermont / Arvenis as being an ‘ostentatious parade’. Bishop Lucius of Alexandria also sought to avoid an adventus in 367, fearing unpopularity, but found himself being arrested by the Augustal Prefect Tatianus, a pagan, and expelled from Egypt. This was understandable, given that Constantius II had ordered a 25  Adventus of relics: body of bishop Meletius (in cities on the way to Antioch, AD 381): Sozom. Hist. eccl. 7.10; of John Chrysostom (at Cple, AD 438): Theod. Hist. eccl. 5.36; Marcell. com. 438.3; Theophanes A.M. 5930 AD 437/38 (date given in Mango and Scott (1997) edn.); of John the Baptist (at Cple, AD 391), when a full adventus might have been undertaken for the reception of the head, as Theodosius I wrapped it in his purple cloak, but this cannot be confirmed: Sozom. Hist. eccl. 7.21; of the martyr Phocas (at Cple, dated to AD 403–404 according to comments on persecution of author noted by Mayer (2005) 83): Joh. Chrys. de S. Hieromartyre Phoca 1 (PG 50.699–700); of Agricola and Vitalis at Clermont under Namatius (PCBE 4.2.1347 Namativs 2 (bishop mid 5th c.)): Gregory of Tours, Glor. Mart. 43–44; of relics from Ambrose: at Rouen in ca. AD 396: Victricius of Rouen De Laude Sanctorum with 12.15–25 giving a clear vision of the form of a secular adventus ceremony (on the date see Clark (2001) 162 n. 2); of St. Simeon Stylites at Antioch (on death in AD 459): Syriac Life of Simeon Stylites the Elder p. 641; Malalas 14.37; Evagr. 1.13; monophysite cleric / holy man at Cple, received by his sympathisers: John of Ephesus Hist. eccl. 3.1.5 not seen (in latter days of Justin I, AD 518–27). For St. Stephen at Cple in AD 437/38 and Andrew etc. in AD 550 see n. 42 below. See also: relics of St Samuel arriving at Constantinople via the Chalcedonian jetty, and being led by the emperor Arcadius, a praetorian prefect, the city prefect, and all the Senate, prior to their deposition in Hagia Sophia: Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 296 (AD 406); relics of Joseph son of Jacob and Zacharias, father of John the Baptist, arrive by same jetty, then subsequently paraded in two caskets (εν γλωσσοκόμοις δυσίν) by bishops of Constantinople and Antandros (Phoenicia), who both sat in carriages (έν βουριχαλίοις), taken to their deposition in the Great Church with the city prefect and all the Senate in attendance: Olympiad 298 (AD 415). These last two processions are not obviously adventus processions, but do show the level of honour that relics were being accorded.

Street Processions

public entry for his predecessor George in 356, to show the imperial favour he enjoyed. Nevertheless, the ecclesiastical adventus became one of the most animated urban rituals within late antique cities. The welcome given to Athanasius by the people of Alexandria on his return from exile was reported, by Gregory of Nazianzus, to have outstripped that given to imperial officials, and to have rivalled that given to emperors. On the return of John Chrysostom to Constantinople, from exile in 403, people ‘covered the mouths of the Propontis with their boats’, as they did for his relics, forty years later. Similarly, the adventus of the body of St. Simeon Stylites into Antioch in 459 was considered ‘beyond description’ by his biographer, being given an escort of troops as well as clergy. Finally, on the visit of Pope Agapetus to the eastern capital in 536, ‘the whole city was disturbed’.26 Whilst the bishop’s adventus was initially a nonecclesiastical public event, and might involve representatives of the city council in the 4th c., it was not necessarily decreed formally by any civil authority.27 In some places an adventus might also have developed spontaneously, from the reaction of a Christian part of the population: Theodoret imagined that ecclesiastics exiled from Edessa by Valens, ‘were everywhere received with the greatest possible distinction, cities and villages coming out to meet them and honouring them as victorious athletes’. Such behaviour is also known in the capital: at Constantinople in 403, Alexandrian sailors greeted their bishop Theophilus, despite an official snub by the local clergy: ‘having collected together [they] received him with great acclamations of joy’. Yet, it was perhaps inevitable that ecclesiastical codification would eventually subsume the adventus within the liturgy: a Syriac canon (probably 6th or 7th c.) provides an official liturgical form for the adventus of bishops, with antiphonal chants, readings, and responses.28

26  Adventus of bishops: Martin of Tours at Clermont / Arvernis, AD 371–97: Gregory of Tours Glor. Conf. 5, PCBE 4.2.1267–79 Martinvs 1 (bishop AD 371/72–397); Athanasius at Alexandria in AD 346: Greg. Naz. Or. 21.28–29; George at Alexandria in AD 356: Ath. Hist. Ar. 75; Lucius at Alexandria in AD 363: Theod. Hist. eccl. 4.22; in AD 367: Hist. Aceph. 5.13, with dates of both bishops based on the career of Athanasius, which I will not reference here; Chrysostom’s return to Cple in AD 403: Theod. Hist. eccl. 5.34; Pope Agapetus to Cple in AD 536: Zac. Myt. Hist. eccl. 9.19. 27  Ecclesiastical adventus, official: at Clermont / Arvernis (AD 371–97), for Martin of Tours, with support of city authorities and involvement of ‘senatores Arverni’ (probably curiales): Gregory of Tours Glor. Conf. 5. 28  Unofficial: in villages for exiles of Edessa, under Valens: Theod. Hist. eccl. 4.15; for Theophilus at Cple, AD 403: Socrates Hist. eccl. 6.15.11; Sozom. Hist. eccl. 8.17 (during Synod of the Oak). Codification as liturgy: Vööbus (1970) 192–99.

157 Appearance of the Cortege The cortege of the adventus varied in style. Emperors made the most elaborate entry, sitting on a throne in a jewelled four-wheeled cart (carpentum) or in a chariot,29 accompanied by the finest of troops, who wore gleaming armour. Galerius’ cart is surrounded by cavalry in the adventus scene from his arch (fig. C1), recording his entry into an eastern city (perhaps Antioch), whilst Constantine’s vehicle is surrounded by infantry in the equivalent scene on his own monument, recording his entry into Rome.30 When Constantius II entered Rome, he was escorted by twin lines of infantry, with shields and crested helmets, interspersed with mounted clibanarii, who were masked and wore scale armour. Honorius’ cavalry boasted crests of peacock feathers and golden horse armour, lain over red silk.31 Dragon-headed standards with tails of purple silk blew in the wind, as recorded by Ammianus and Claudian, at Rome, and by Chrysostom at Constantinople / Antioch. The reptilian windsocks flowing from these standards had woven scales: which ‘present to the eye a most agreeable and at the same time terrible show’, according to Gregory of Nazianzus.32 He also noted standards carrying the labarum and imperial portraits, which must be the square vexilla which hung on a pole / spear, that we see in con29  Imperial carpentum: shown on the Arch of Constantine for his adventus: Mayer (2002) table 39.1; described for Constantius’ entry into Rome: ‘… a golden car (carpentum) in the resplendent blaze of shimmering precious stones, whose mingled glitter seemed to form a sort of shifting light’: Amm. Marc. 16.10.6. A two-horse chariot adapted to look like a carpentum, with a throne for a seated emperor, is shown on the Arch of Galerius: Mayer (2002) table 7. Emperor Julian sat his friend, the governor Celsus, in his ‘vehicle’ for his entry into the metropolis of Tarsus, as a mark of honour: Amm. Marc. 22.9.13; PLRE 1.193–94 Celsus 3. Isidore of Seville reminds us in Etym. 20.12 de vehiculis that ‘Carpentum pompaticum vehiculi genus est, quasi carrum pompaticum.’ 30  Emperors with troops in art: see references to arches in Rome (Constantine) and Thessalonica (Galerius, probably representing Antioch), in appendix F7a. The side of Constantine’s cart is decorated with vine leaves and intricate patterns, whilst the horse trappings seem to be jewelled. 31  Emperors with troops in texts: Constantius into Rome: Amm. Marc. 16.10.7–8; Honorius at Rome: Claud. de VI cons. Hon. 560–577; Zeno also entered into the palace at Cple with his infantry during the rebellion of Basiliscus: Malalas 15.5. For a (tetrarchic) imperial adventus with soldiers in ‘undress’ uniform, not armour see Kalavrezou-Maxeiner (1975) esp. pls. I–IV. 32  Military standards: Greg. Naz. Or. 4.66 (reptilian windsocks); Claud. de III cos. Hon 138–19 (Theodosius AD 389, see n. 125); De VI cons. Hon. 565–68 (eagles, writhing snakes as well as embroidered dragons); Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Rom. 14.10 (PG 60.537) (dragons shaped out in silk hangings). These are illustrated in the adlocutio scene on the Arch of Galerius: Mayer (2002) table 2.

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figure c1

Adventus: Galerius enters an eastern city, Arch of Galerius, Thessalonica

temporary imperial reliefs.33 Early 4th c. adventus depictions of Constantine in Rome show standards carrying eagles and statues of military gods, notably Victory.34 The adventus into imperial capitals features prominently in our textual sources. Both Ammianus and Chrysostom (who were not writing panegyric) appear awe-stuck by the splendour of these great occasions, in Rome and Constantinople / Antioch. Chrysostom is the most vivid: he asks his congregation to recall the image of an emperor in procession with: his men in gold armour, and his pairs of white mules proudly decked with gold, and his chariots set with jewels, and his snow-like cushions, and the spangles that flutter about the chariot, and the dragons shaped out in the silken hangings, and the shields with their gold bosses, and the straps that reach up from these to the rim of them through so many gems, and the horses with the gilded trappings and the gold bits. But when we see the king, we immediately lose sight of all these. For falsehood alone turns our eyes to him, and to the purple robe, and the diadem, and the throne, and 33  Vexilla: On the Arch of Galerius, the arriving soldiers carry standards with square flags (vexilla), which also appear flanking Constantine in the forum scene on the Arch of Constantine: Mayer (2002) table 39.2. The standards on the Decennalia monument also incorporate them. Vexilla flags, some of which were purple in Late Antiquity, traditionally featured Victories, and the name of the unit or the commander, and can be seen on Late Roman coins: Rostovetzeff (1942) esp. 95–97. On a diptych of Honorius a vexilla flag bears a Christian victory slogan and is crowned by a Chi-Rho: Volbach (1976) no. 1, Olovsdotter (2005) pl. 14. Designs may have been embroidered in gold wire: Ammianus 16.10.2 describes ‘banners stiff with gold-work’ for Constantius’ adventus at Rome. 34  Statuary: On the Decennalia monument, soldiers accompanying the procession of senators carry: i) an eagle on a thunderbolt, ii) a Victory with a palm branch and laurel wreath, iii) an eagle and the genius populi Romani, and iv) another Victory. On the Arch of Constantine, the front group of soldiers in the profectio carry the dei militares on poles: Kalavrezou-Maxeiner (1975) 235, with Mayer (2002) tables 35, 38.1.

the clasp, and the shoes, all that splendour of his appearance. Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Rom. 14.10 (PG 60.537) (adapted from transl. of Schaff (1889))

Claudian’s description goes further, imagining the women of Rome swooning over the sight of the emperor and his glorious troops. For Libanius, the glint of armour, the dragons, and the raucous blare of trumpets was too much: it made him feel ill.35 A single reference by the historian Agathias suggests that foreign kings backed by the Roman army might enjoy similar honours: when Tzathes returned home from Constantinople in 556, having been made king of the Lazi, he entered his country (part of modern Georgia) splendidly arrayed, with the Roman army processing in front of him, on horseback, in the best armament, with trumpets and banners raised aloft. This represented a pomp and magnificence ‘beyond what is usually associated with the Lazian monarchy’.36 We should not, however, imagine that all imperial and royal arrivals were as glorious as this. A much simpler imperial adventus is recorded in a fresco at Luxor for the tetrarchs: here the soldiers are in ‘undress’ uniform, not battle armour, and the cavalry are dismounted, as are the emperors, though they had likely entered in a chariot. The rulers are dressed in purple pallia, perhaps in order to flatter their eastern hosts, who knew the same garment as himatia. Their costume would have recalled divine attributes of the Augusti. Yet, the overall presentation of the ceremony here is modest: this style of entrance was probably the bottom end of the scale.37

35  Impact of adventus: women swoon: Claud. de VI cons. Hon. 560–64; armour impresses: Ammianus 16.10.8; sights and noise unbearable: Lib. Or. 1.144. 36  Adventus of King of Lazi, (AD 556): Agath. 3.15.3–4; PLRE 3.1347 Tzathes 2. 37  Troops in undress uniform, cavalry dismounted, emperors dressed in pallia: (Luxor AD 296/97) Kalavrezou-Maxeiner (1975) esp. 232–38, 245.

Street Processions

Praetorian prefects, urban prefects, vicars, and governors would arrive in the carpentum, their official cart of office. In the early 5th c., Synesius, the bishop of Ptolemais, describes the prefect of Egypt arriving in such a carriage, and also the praesidal governor of Libya Superior (Cyrenaica); Cassiodorus saw these vehicles as appropriate honours for a consular governor.38 The use of carriages for governors spans the whole period: under Justinian, those of the praetores of Pisidia and Lycaonia were of silver, as had been those of praetorian prefects, and probably proconsuls, since at least the 4th c. The appearance of these carriages can be imagined from different manuscript versions of illustrations from the Notitia Dignitatum. These reveal a ceremonial sofa, set on a cart, with what appears to be a silver-painted wooden framework, supporting blue upholstery, with elaborate vegetal patterns picked out in white. The wheels are sometimes painted in silver, and sometimes in gold. Before the cart are four white horses, with red or black harnesses, managed by a driver with a long stick.39 Other dignitaries, such as generals, might arrive on horseback. Even so, they would not neglect to display symbols appropriate to their rank, such as the long fasces carried before cavalry generals in the 6th c.40 One could expect some 38  Carpentum of governors: praetorian prefect: the insignia of the PP of Illyricum in the Notitia Dignitatum includes a carpentum, which appears to be in silver and gold: Not. Dign. 8. Official regalia under the Ostrogoths included a carriage (‘of the kind we are used to’): Cassiod. Var. 6.4.6; urban prefect (of Rome): Cassiod. Var. 6.16.2; vicar: (of Rome) Cassiod. Var. 6.16; (of Egypt) Syn. Ep. 127 (ὀχήματι δημοσίῳ ‘in a public vehicle’); praesidal governor (Libya Inferior): Syn. Ep. 41 (ἡγεμονικὴν ἀπήνην), with Not. Dign. 1 revealing Libya Inferior as a praesidal province at this time; consular governor: Cassiod. Var. 6.20.2: ‘in some provinces you even wear the paenula (military cloak) and ride in the carpentum, as a proof of your dignity’ (subectione decoraris). 39  Silver carriages: praetors (of Pisidia and Lycaonia): Just. Nov. 24.4, 25.5; see also Malalas 18.56, Lydus Mag. 2.14.1; urban prefect (of Cple): Them. Or. 31.353d, Anth. Graec. 11.292 with Heather and Moncur (2001) 289–90 concerning the office when it was a proconsulship; proconsuls: Just. Nov. 30.6 (AD 536, Cappadocia) (ἀργυροῦ in Greek text of Mommsen but ‘curru ex argento’ in authenticum Latin version of Mommsen. The visual details come from the urban prefect of Rome and the praetorian prefect of Italy, from the Oxford Bodleian manuscript of the Not. Dign. MS. Canon. Misc. 378 (see bibliography) fol. 131v and 133r. The equivalent images 265 and 268 of the Bavarian manuscript BSM Clm 10291 (see bibliography) seem to show that the body of the wooden frame was silver painted / clad and the wheels were gold. There also seems to be an extra cushion in red or brown within the seat of the ‘sofa’. The urban prefects’ carriage includes a bust, probably of the emperor, on the woodwork of the cart. For the ‘veracity’ of these manuscript depictions, see positive and negative examples identified by Grigg (1979). 40   Symbols of rank: e.g. fasces of cavalry general: Lydus Mag. 1.37.6.

159 bishops and holy men to make a show of humility, as did Athanasius on his return to Alexandria, riding a donkey in imitation of Christ’s entry to Jerusalem. A later bishop of the city rode to his inauguration on the same type of beast, as part of a litany.41 From the admiring crowds there was pressure to accept honours. At Clermont / Arvernis, the ‘senatores’ (perhaps curiales), who came out to meet Martin of Tours with ‘horsemen, coaches, chariots, and wagons’, surely hoped to put the saint into a carriage to enter their city. A century later, Daniel the Stylite, on his way to confront the usurper emperor Basiliscus, allowed himself to be put on a litter by the patrician Dagalaiphus and be given an escort, to protect him from the crush of admirers who surrounded his entry into the capital. The bishop of Alexandria, Peter, permitted the city authorities and crowds to set him on a chariot in 482, when he received the Henotikon of Zeno, an imperial edict issued in an attempt to reconcile the Christological debate of the period. This treatment was also accorded to the relics of Andrew, Luke, and Timothy, which arrived in the capital by imperial carriage, alongside bishop Menas, in 550. An equivalent scene appears on the Trier Ivory, which depicts a comparable event in the 5th c., or perhaps the 8th c.42 Exceptionally, emperors might 41  Donkey for bishop of Alexandria: Athanasius: Greg. Naz. Or. 21.29 (AD 346); Timothy Aelrus restored as bishop of Alexandria under Basiliscus, making the customary procession mounted on a donkey, from the palace to St. Sophia: Theophanes A.M. 5967 (date AD 474/75 from Mango and Scott (1997) edn.) as part of a litany from the palace to the church, passing by the Octagon, where he fell off; Theodore Lector Hist. eccl. 1.30 (PG 86a.180) passing by the ‘Basilica’, then Octagon where he fell off; Martin of Tours: at Clermont / Arvernis: see next note. 42  Vehicles carrying holy people and relics: Martin of Tours at Clermont / Arvernis: Gregory of Tours Glor. Conf. 5; Daniel at Cple: V. Dan. 80 (ἐν τῷ λεκτικίῳ = litter); bishop Peter at Alexandria, ca. 482: Zac. Myt. Hist. eccl. 5.7 (time of Henotikon of Zeno); relics of Andrew etc. at Cple, AD 550: Malalas 18.109 (in imperial carriage—ἐν ὀχήματι βασιλικῷ); St. John the Baptist (head) at Cple, under Theodosius I: Sozom. Hist. eccl. 7.21 (ὀχήματι δημοσίω—public carriage); St. Stephen at Cple under Theodosius II: Theophanes A.M. 5920 (date AD 427/28 from Mango and Scott (1997) edn.), with Trier Ivory in Volbach (1976) no. 143, discussed in Holum and Vikan (1979) 113–33. Niewöhner (2014) redates the Trier Ivory, on architectural grounds to the late 8th c., notably because of the depiction of Christ above the Chalke Gate. I am not yet entirely convinced by the arguments, as an icon of Christ is known on a gate at Antioch (see streets chapter n. 178). I would also like to see arguments based on the material culture and dress depicted, which seem to show nothing incompatible with the 5th–6th c. See Brubaker (1999) who redates the ivory to ca. 800, based on parallels of the figure proportions and eye details with two later 9th to early 10th c. ivories, with thanks to C. Wickham. Even if the Trier Ivory is 9th c., as now seems likely, the scene

160 authorise military escorts for imperially appointed bishops, as happened at Alexandria on two occasions. Thus, bishop George was ordered by Constantius II ‘to enter Alexandria with military pomp and supported by the authority of the General’.43 Route and Interaction with the City Events unfolded within the adventus at different stages, according to where the procession was. An advance delegation, known as the occursus, would meet the arriving dignitaries either at the boundary of the urban territory, the boundary of the province or some other notable point, such as at a particular milestone out from the city. This was true for the Exarchs of Italy at Rome, or papal ambassadors to Constantinople in 519. The latter were greeted at the 10th milestone, whilst a few years later Pope John was met at the 12th / 15th milestone: a slightly greater honour. The advance group was usually composed of a selection of civic or ecclesiastical officials, although not of the very highest rank.44 But, in the case of imperial visitors or special occasions, a more substantial delegation might turn out: when Constans II visited Rome in AD 663, the pope came to meet the emperor at the 6th milestone, and when Heraclius returned victorious to Constantinople in 626/27, the people came out en masse to meet him in the Asiatic suburb of Hiereia, with both the patriarch and the co-emperor Constantine. This honour could be transferred to a religious context: at Clermont / Arvernis, bishop Namatius (446–62) personally led a procession to the 5th milestone beyond the city to witness the arrival of the relics of Agricola and Vitalis. Yet here, the distinction between a traditional

depicted, of two churchmen holding relics in a carpentum would not have been out of place in the earlier 5th c. 43  Episcopal adventus with military escort: George: Ath. Hist. Ar. 75; Lucius: Theod. Hist. eccl. 4.22 (both at Alexandria AD 356 and 367, see n. 26 (churchmen) for details of both bishops). 44  Advance delegation waiting at boundaries / milestones, for Constans II at Rome (AD 663): Lib. Pont. 78.2 (vol. 1 p. 343) (6th milestone); for Charlemagne at Rome (in AD 774) following protocols for exarchs of Ravenna: Lib. Pont. 96.35–36 (vol. 1 pp. 496–97); coming out 30 miles from the city; for Pope John at Cple (was pope AD 523–26): Lib. Pont. 55.3–4 (vol. 1 p. 275) (15th or 12th milestone, according to different manuscripts); for papal delegates at Cple (AD 519): exalted persons of court (generals Vitalian and Pompey, with Justinian, adopted son of the emperor) came to meet them at the 10th milestone: Coll. Avell. 167.5–6 and 223.1 (CSEL 35.2 (1898) 619 and 683), Theophanes A.M. 6011 (AD 518/19 in edn. of Mango and Scott (1997)); St. Nazarius’ relics at Abbey of Lorsch in AD 760 saw the welcome delegation sent to the edge of the Vosges mountains: Lorsch Codex (MGH SS vol. 21 p. 343). Also at Lycopolis for an agens in rebus, under Theodosius I (though written after Council of Chalcedon), when clergy and councillors go out a long way from the city): Life of John of Lycopolis 3.

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adventus and an extramural liturgical procession was perhaps being blurred.45 Outside the city gates, the main reception party would be waiting. At Rome, from the 4th to the early 7th c., the Senate would welcome emperors at the gates, whilst at Constantinople an entry by Justinian in 559 saw the Senate and the prefect of the city meet him at the Charisos Gate.46 The composition of this group said a lot about a city’s leadership. In late 4th c. Antioch, the curiales and also the honorati were present, as they were at Emona in 388, along with (pagan) flamines and sacerdotales, according to Pacatus. At Autun in 310/11, representatives of the collegia seem to have been in attendance, as their standards were exhibited, a practice perhaps also current in Alexandria, where the population was divided according to ‘kin, age and profession’ in 4th c. adventus crowds.47 At Orleans in 585, communal groups of Gallo-Romans, Syrians, and Jews were separated, each singing their own distinct praises, a custom unknown

45  Advance delegation with senior figures: Julian was welcomed by a governor with an address at the borders of each province: Lib. Or. 18.159, notably by the governor of Cilicia (ca. 361), at the Cilician Gates: Amm. Marc. 22.9.13; Constans II at Rome by pope with clergy (AD 663): Lib. Pont. 78.2 (vol. 1 p. 343); Heraclius at Cple by people, patriarch and Constantine his son, who went out to Hieria on the eastern shore of the Bosphorus: Theophanes A.M. 6119 (date AD 626/27 from Mango and Scott (1997) edn.); relics at Clermont / Arvernis (AD 446–62): Gregory of Tours, Glor. Mart. 43–44, PCBE 4.2.1347 Namativs 2 (bishop mid 5th c.). 46  Reception party at city gates: curiales: see n. 49; Senate at Rome (outside) for Constantius (AD 357): Amm. Marc. 16.10.5; for Honorius, (AD 404): Claud. de VI cons. Hon. 550–51 (implied by accompanying Honorius through the city); for Theoderic (Senate with people): Anon. Val. 65; for Phocas images, ca. AD 602 (just inside city at Lateran): Greg. Ep. Appendix 8; at Cple (outside gate) for Justinian: Imp. Exp. R497/HC696 (AD 559). 47  Reception party, other groups: collegia at Autun, (AD 310/11) according to edn. of Nixon and Rodgers (1994) 256: (Pan. Lat. 8(5).8.4). The collegia were also spectators in the consular procession of Justin II’s accession at Cple: Corippus, Laud. Just. 4.66–69. However, I think McCormick (1986) 204–208 overplays their role in public processions in Late Antiquity: I do not think that a reference to the decoration in front of ergasteria at Antioch after the Riot of the Statues (Joh. Chrys. Hom. ad Pop. Ant. 21.4 (PG 49.220)) need involve the collegia. This could just mean decoration of street porticoes in front of shops, which the word ergasteria normally refers to; sexes: at Alexandria: Greg. Naz. Or. 21.27 (the division by kin (γένη) may be by gender, but this is not certain); sacerdotales and flamines at Emona, (AD 388): Pan. Lat. 2(12).37.4. It is possible that Pacatus is just following the instructions of Men. Rhet. 2.3 (381.6–13) to describe the participation of priests in an adventus when writing a panegyric, but they were still honorary offices in Africa at this time, as Lepelley (1979) 165–67 has demonstrated. The same could be true of collegia at Autun, described above.

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elsewhere.48 Quite when the city council disappeared from the reception party of most cities is difficult to estimate: they were present at Antioch and Emona in the later 4th c., and are alluded to by Severian of Gabala around 400, but do not appear in later descriptions.49 For visits of the exarchs to Rome, in the 7th or 8th c., the patrons of the seven regions were present, reflecting the survival of some secular leadership in what was still the greatest city in the West.50 The clergy began to feature in the group at the gates of the city from the later 4th c. This would be natural for an ecclesiastical adventus. In 373, the adventus of bishop Lucius into Alexandria was thought shocking due to the absence of bishops, presbyters, deacons, and monks from his escort, which included the imperial treasurer and soldiers, whilst in 403 the absence of local clergy from Theophilus’ entry into Constantinople was seen as a snub.51 Inevitably, the clergy also became involved in the adventus of secular officials, reflecting their increased importance in the public life of cities. At Rome, the pope was present at the gate for the entry of Theoderic in 500. In the reign of Theodosius I, a magistrianos (agens in rebus) was met outside Lycopolis by a group which included the clergy, as well as the councillors. Religious figures were also prominent in the entry of a governor into Edessa in 449 (archimandrites (senior abbots) and monks), and in the entry of the general Celer into the same city in 506/507, which included clergy, members of the religious orders, and monks. In contrast, no secular officials are mentioned for either adventus.52

48  Communal groups: at Orleans for King Guntram (AD 585) (24th regnal year): Gregory of Tours Hist. 8.1. 49  City council, at Antioch: Lib. Or. 46.40; at Emona: Pan. Lat. 2(12).37.3 (with flamines and sacerdotes); ‘Magistrates and people’ (ἄρχοντες καί δῆμοι): Severian of Gabala (given at Cple in first years of 5th c.) de lotion pedum 9. 50  Patrons, at Rome: Lib. Pont. 96.35–36 (Vol. 1 pp. 496–97) (for Charlemagne, following protocols for exarchs). The lower clergy were also present in this group, as also were children. 51  Clergy in reception party and escort of bishop: for Lucius at Alexandria in AD 373: Theod. Hist. eccl. 4.22 (bishops, priests, deacons, and monks, as well as multitudes of laity should have been present), describing letter by Peter of Antioch, based on dating of the career of Athanasius see n. 26; for Theophilus at Cple in AD 404: Sozom. Hist. eccl. 8.17. 52  Clergy in reception party of secular officials, for Theoderic at Rome, (AD 500) (Pope, with Senate and people): Anon. Val. 65; for agens in rebus at Lycopolis, under Theodosius I: Life of John of Lycopolis 3; for governor Celer at Edessa, AD 449 (archimandrites and monks): Acts of the Council of Ephesus, A.D. 449 edn. of Flemming and Hoffmanns (1917) 15–17; for general at Edessa, (AD 506/507) (clergy, members of the religious orders, and monks): Josh. Styl. 100 (AD 506/507); at Novae: Theophanes A.M. 6089 (AD 596/97 in Mango and Scott

161 It would have been natural for a visiting dignitary to meet the troops on an extramural parade ground as part of the adventus, where emperors often addressed their soldiers. Thus, we hear that city garrisons also went out before their city for the adventus, as they did for Galerius at ‘Antioch’, for Julian at Sirmium, for exarchs at Rome, and for the general Peter (the brother of the emperor Maurice) at Asemus on the Danube. On the final occasion, the garrison came out of the gates in their finest armour and standards, giving acclamations. An Islamic garrison occupying Jerusalem followed the same practice: it assembled outside of the city to greet the Caliph ‘Umar (634–44). The custom was not Arabian but derived from late antique practice: the inhabitants of Syria, according to Al-Balâdhuri, had greeted ‘Umar with an adventus reception featuring the display of swords. The ritual was both unfamiliar and unsettling to the caliph, yet he tolerated it once he was told of the significance this ceremony had in the acceptance of his rule. At Constantinople, acclamations relating to troops were inscribed on the Golden Gate in the early 5th c., further suggesting that the appearance of troops was an expected part of greetings at the gate.53 Whilst the bulk of the ‘people’ would be encountered inside the city, we often hear of crowds coming out beyond the gates to join the reception party. This was true for the welcome of exiled clergy under Valens in Thrace, for a general at Edessa in 506/507, for Theoderic at Rome in 500, for Guntram at Orleans in 585, and for Heraclius at Constantinople in 626/27. For a 3rd c. ‘royal adventus’ at Antioch, a medieval text (8th c. or later) even imagined people climbing onto the rubbish tips along the roads

(1997) edn.), when a bishop accompanies soldiers on arrival of the general Peter. 53  Army greeting outside city: for Galerius at Antioch / other eastern city on his arch, as suggested by the presence of vexilla flag standards in the welcoming party on the adventus scene, which implies soldiers (Mayer (2002) table 7), with brief discussion of uncertainty of location in Pond Rothman (1977) 437; for Julian at Sirmium: Amm. Marc. 21.10.1; for exarchs at Rome: see n. 50; for Leo I at Cple addressing troops at Hebdomon parade ground, as part of his coronation entry: Cer.1.91; as at Cple, the parade ground at Antioch was outside the city, facilitating such meetings: Lib. Or. 15.76; for general Peter at Asemus: Theoph. Sim. 7.3.3, dated as 594 by Whitby and Whitby transl. (1986), conflated with Novae by Theophanes A.M. 6089 (AD 596/97 date in Mango and Scott (1997) edn.), with PLRE 3.1009–11 Petrus 55; for Caliph ‘Umar at Jerusalem: Dionysius reconstituted 13.74; PLRE 3.1391–92 ‘Umar ibn al-Khaţţāb (Caliph 634–44); in Syria (at Adhri’ât, with tambourines, singing, swords, and myrtle): MacCormack (1981) 22, quoting translations of Al-Balâdhuri by Hitti (1916) 214–15, with 201–202 (for adventus at Larissa, with tambourines and singing). I am not able to check the Arabic. For the acclamations of the Golden Gate at Cple see n. 68.

162 outside the city for a good view.54 One might expect that the number of people who turned out varied depending on the popularity of the ruler concerned. This may have been the case for the ecclesiastical exiles described above, who could not have counted on the support of whole communities, but our sources never otherwise suggest that this was so. Rather, it seems that the adventus was normally a civic event at which displeasure was expressed through acclamations of complaint, which incomers feared, rather than through non-attendance. Amongst the reception party, the order of display and greeting for different classes of people was probably organised according to rank group. The ordo salutationis of Thamugadi (Timgad), an official precedence list of AD 361/63 for greeting a governor, demonstrates that rules could be applied in provincial contexts too.55 This is unsurprising, as the adventus would be a good opportunity to show a visitor who was really in charge in the city, as well as to define the pecking order of the middle classes. The identity of different groups would have been visually very obvious, following Late Roman dress codes for curiales (himation or toga, white, like in Rome, according to Lydus), honorati (chlamys), and officiales (white chlamys). We should not imagine that everyone was robed in white. At Emona, in 388, it was only the senatores (probably curiales) who were dressed in white, whilst the flamines wore purple and the sacerdotes their distinctive conical hats.56 On the Arch of Galerius, our only depiction of the reception at the gates, a variety of dress types is in evidence: a chlamys-robed figure 54  ‘The people’ coming out beyond the gates: for exiled clergy in Thrace: Theod. Hist. eccl. 4.15; for a general at Edessa: Josh. Styl. 100 (AD 506/507); for Theoderic at Rome: Anon. Vales. 65 (AD 500); for Guntram at Orleans: Gregory of Tours Hist. 8.1 (AD 585); for Heraclius at Cple: Theophanes A.M. 6119 (date AD 626/27 from Mango and Scott (1997) edn.); for the sons of a ‘king’ at Antioch: Theodore of Antioch Encomium on Theodore the General a late text, 8th to 10th c. (edn. Wallis (1915) 586). 55  Precedence in greeting dignitary: at Thamugadi, ordo salutationis: Chastagnol (1978) 75f. 56  Late Roman dress codes: in general see Parani (2003) 12 and (2007) 504; himatia on new-cut statues of late antique date, probably curial, at Aphrodisias: Smith (1999) 176–82. On dress of curiales in early 6th c. (dressed like Senate, in white) see Lydus Mag. 1.28; chlamys: of officiales and governors see Loerke (1961) plus Smith (1999); white-clothed ambassadors from other cities, not in the reception party, at Aquileia in 238 (λευχειμονοῦντες): Herodian 8.7.2. White-robed imperial guards lining the Mese for Justinian’s triumph of AD 559, are irrelevant to this, as this was not unusual dress for them: Imp. Exp. R497 / HC696; at Emona, (AD 388) (veste nivea senators): Pan. Lat. 2(12).37.3; variety at Emona: Pan. Lat. 2(12).37.3 (purpura flamines, insignes apicibus sacerdotes), preferring translation of Nixon and Rodgers (1994) to that in MacCormack (1981) 51; on the Arch of Galerius (for ?Antioch): Mayer (2002) table 7.

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dominates, likely a governor or other honoratus. There is no evidence from here or elsewhere that any groups were arranged on wooden grandstands for an adventus, as they were for the first consular procession of Justin II inside the eastern capital.57 Aside from being a display of the social order, the reception party was also an opportunity for artistic display. The people of Emona greeted Theodosius I, following his defeat of the usurper Magnus Maximus, with crowds of dancers, songs, and applause. According to Pacatus, one choir sang of the triumph, whilst the other chanted a funeral dirge for the tyrant. Choirs and musical instruments are mentioned for another imperial adventus in an oration given in Trier in 313. A choir of angels was appropriate for the future adventus of Christ, in the view of Proclus. Upon the Islamic conquest of Syria, ‘Umar was greeted by communities he encountered with singing and tambourines, as well as the display of myrtle’.58 Almost three centuries earlier, Julian was received outside Sirmium by flowers and lights. Similarly, John Chrysostom was welcomed by people carrying wax tapers at Constantinople in 403, as was the general Celer at Edessa in 506/507. Heraclius was greeted by both lights and olive branches at Constantinople, whilst exarchs of Ravenna were met at Rome with olive branches and palm leaves carried by school children.59 Constantine was greeted at Autun by the standards of collegia and also by the statues of gods, which also appear on the tetrarchic adventus scene from Luxor and on the Arch of Galerius in Thessalonica. Guntram at Orleans saw flags and banners. All of this added up to a very substantial display, of sights and noise, which was part of a long tradition.60 57  Wooden grandstand: see n. 99. 58  Choirs and musical instruments, at Emona (AD 388): Pan. Lat. 2(12).37.3 (choirs); at Trier: 12.38 (choirs and musical instruments); Choir (of angels): Proclus Or. 9.1 (PG 65.773). 59  Lights and other decorations: at Sirmium: Amm. Marc. 21.10.1 (flowers and lights (cum lumine multo et floribus)); at Cple for Chrysostom: Sozom. Hist. eccl. 8.18 (wax tapers κηρούς); Theod. Hist. eccl. 5.34 (torches / lamps λαμπάδας); for his remains: 5.36 (λαμπάσι; at Edessa for general Celer: Josh. Styl. 100 (AD 506/507) (wax candles); at Cple for Pope John (AD 525): Lib. Pont. 55.3 (vol. 1 p. 275) (candles); for Heraclius: Theophanes A.M. 6119 (date AD 626/27 from Mango and Scott (1997) edn.) (torches / lamps (λαμπάδας) and olive branches); at Nicaea for imperial portraits, (AD 787): C. Nic. II 787 (Mansi 12.1014) (candles); at Rome for Charlemagne (A.D. 774) following the protocols for exarchs: Lib. Pont. 96.35–36 (vol. 1 pp. 496–97) (olive branches and palm leaves). 60  Statues, standards, and banners, at Autun: Pan. Lat. 8(5).8.4 (AD 310/11) (statues and standards); at Luxor? (during Tetrarchy, AD 296/97): Kalavrezou-Maxeiner (1975) 243, based on a fragmentary depiction of a ferculum, used in this region for carrying statues of gods during the adventus; at Orleans for King Guntram, (AD 585): Gregory of Tour Hist. 8.1 (flags and

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Over time, the reception crowd began to exhibit Christian liturgical elements, first manifested in the early 5th c. The return of Chrysostom as bishop to Constantinople was accompanied by the singing of psalms, whilst that of Pope John to Constantinople in 525 was greeted by crosses, and, in the time of Heraclius, the bishop Cyrus was met on his entry into Alexandria by crowds who sang hymns. They even covered the way with carpets, an honour accorded to Heraclius when he returned the Cross to Jerusalem, if a 10th c. Islamic historian can be believed. This may have had a Christian meaning, recalling the clothes spread on the ground for the arrival of Jesus in the same city in Luke 19.35, and especially if we note that Alexandrian bishops liked to ride on a donkey in such ceremonies.61 A Christianisation of the welcome given to civil officials can also be detected over time, though is probably much later in date. Admittedly, in the Life of John of Lycopolis, an agens in rebus was greeted in the city by censers, Gospels, and crosses. But this hagiographic text may be a distraction: it was written after 451 (as it mentions the council of Chalcedon), not in the late 4th c. when the event occurred. More reliable sources describing the use of Christian symbols date from the mid 6th c. or later. In early 7th c. Nikiu, we find an angry imperial official being greeted by a worried rebel bishop, coming out of his city carrying the Holy Gospels. This act recalls the gesture of Pelagius, the papal representative, who had carried the Gospels to Totila in supplication, after the Gothic king’s recapture of Rome in 546. Later, the lesser clergy who greeted exarchs, a mile from the same city, similarly carried ‘venerable crosses’. Finally, at Constantinople, Heraclius was greeted by hymn-singing in 626/27. By this date, ecclesiastical and secular adventus ceremonies seem to have been equally Christianised.62 banners—signis adque vixillis); at Aquileia (AD 238) the adventus of Pupienus Maximus did not feature statues of gods in the account we have, but rather they were brought by delegations of other cities to the new emperor: Herodian 8.7.2. 61   Christian liturgical elements in the adventus: of bishops Chrysostom’s return (Cple, AD 403): Theod. Hist. eccl. 5.34, with Bautz (1990c); bishop Cyrus (at Alexandria): John of Nikiu Chronicle 120 (9)-(12) with Al-Tabari 1.1561–62 (year 6, AD 627/28) for Heraclius (both of which were seen by me only in translation), Luke 19.35 being ἱμάτια; see also n. 41 for donkeys and Alexandrian bishops; of popes Pope John (Cple AD 525): Lib. Pont. 55.3 (vol. 1 p. 275) (crosses). 62  Christianisation of adventus of officials: of agens in rebus (Lycopolis): Life of John of Lycopolis 3; of comes orientis (Nikiu): John of Nikiu Chronicle 107(39). The use of gospels may have been exceptional, on both occasions here, as the arriving dignitary was greatly feared. For the supplication of Pelagius, papal representative, in AD 546 see: Procop. Goth. 3.20.23–25 (with thanks to the anonymous referee of this chapter); of Charlemagne following protocols for exarchs at

163 The passage of a dignitary through the city gate was a highlight of the welcome ritual. At this point, the city’s pomoerium was crossed and a visitor was first able to appreciate fully the monumentality of the urban landscape. Unless substantial crowds had already come out beyond the gate, the ‘people’ seem to have greeted the arriving dignitary here.63 They populated both roadsides and rooftops, from where women in particular would watch the procession. Claudian describes a clear gender difference between men on the ground and women on the lofty buildings. Victricius notes that those on the rooftops were matrons, though people of ‘every age’ would pour forth from the gates.64 This remark is echoed by Ammianus for Julian at Vienne, where ‘all ages and ranks attended’, and by other writers.65 Here, on the major avenues of the city, or just before the gate, the people would shout acclamations which followed a set order. Thus, a governor’s adventus at Edessa in 449 was marked by acclamations given against the metropolitan bishop Ibas. The return of a deposed consularis Syriae to Antioch in 388 was mistakenly interpreted by the inhabitants as a sign of his vindication; the adventus they provided was accompanied by acclamations attacking his detractors.66 Such ritualised chants had a formal Rome: Lib. Pont. 96.35–36 (Vol. 1 pp. 496–97) (crosses); of emperors: Heraclius at Cple (hymn-singing): Theophanes A.M. 6119 (date AD 626/27 in Mango and Scott (1997) edn.); of imperial portraits in AD 787: C. Nic. II 787 (Mansi 12.1014) (incense, perhaps provided by clergy at this date). 63  People inside the city: during the entry of Honorius to Rome (Claud. de VI cos Hon. 543–45), and on the Trier Ivory for 5th c. Cple see n. 42. 64  People climbing on roofs: at Rouen: Victricius of Rouen De Laude Sanctorum 12.16–17 (women on roofs); at Rome: Claud. de VI cos Hon. 580–82 (women on buildings, men on ground); at Milan: Pan. Lat. 12(9)7.5 when matrons and virgins seem present at entry of Constantine, though we do not know on what structures (AD 312); at Antioch: Theodore of Antioch Encomium on Theodore the General a late text, 8th to 10th c. (edn. Wallis Budge (1915) 586); at Cple: also visible on the Trier Ivory, thought to depict the adventus of the relics of St. Stephen to Cple in AD 421, with men climbing on a church roof and within the porticoes of the hippodrome carceres in the city centre: Volbach (1976) no. 143, with my n. 42 on dating; at Doliche, Mesopotamia: ‘woman on roof’ Theodoret Hist. eccl. 5.4 (time of Theodosius I). 65  Universality of attendance, for emperor: ‘all ages and ranks’ at Vienne: Amm. Marc. 15.8.21–22; mothers, girls, old men, and boys at Emona in 388: Pan. Lat. 2(12)37.4; for other authors, see MacCormack (1981) 17–61. 66  Acclamations: as Liebeschuetz (1972) 211 notes (following Seeck (1920–24)), on two occasions adventus acclamations are recorded in full, from the return of the consularis Syriae Lucianus to Antioch in 388 and from the arrival of Chaereas, governor of Osrhoene in Edessa in AD 449; PLRE 1.516–17 Lucianus 6; PLRE 2.282 Flavivs Thomas Ivlianvs Chaereas. Comparison of these texts shows that the acclamations follow a set formula, praising the emperor and a series of officials in

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c­onstitutional status and could be minuted.67 Some were even monumentalised where they had been given: late antique inscribed acclamations have been recorded on city gates at Constantinople (on the Golden Gate), Ephesus, Hierapolis, Cyrrhus, Amida, Ma’an (Syria), and Caesarea Palestinae. They have also been found along colonnaded streets, at Ephesus (6th c.) and Hierapolis (early 7th c.), whilst painted inscriptions are known on columns from Laodicea ad Lycum (6th c.) and other sites in the same region, which might record acclamations presented by the people along main avenues during the adventus.68 The cortege then entered into the city, with not a little danger: the spectators on the roofs of porticoes were ideally positioned to kill a dignitary in an open coach with a well-aimed tile. This fate befell bishop Maris at Doliche in Mesopotamia under Theodosius I.69 We have references from Constantinople (one from 559, the others much later) to the corporations lining the main street, in association with the city prefect, for triumphal entries. It is likely that this position was designed to reflect both their status and their place of residence, as the

procession passed in front of colonnaded shops at this point.70 Within the city, the processional route of the adventus was not arbitrary: for the imperial adventus, and probably also that of governors, the route was defined in advance; it was specially decorated with garlands and wreaths (of branches), according to references from 4th c. Gaul and Illyricum.71 Libanius notes that such decorations were hung between pillars and between house walls, whilst in another instance (at Emona in 388) we also hear of tapestries strung up in the avenues, a practice alluded to by Choricius at Gaza, during the reign of Justinian.72 The adventus would have as its ultimate destination the residence of the official, whether palace, praetorium or episcopal residence / Great Church.73 These routes seem, unsurprisingly, to have had a strong relationship to the gates, colonnaded streets and other monuments of a city. At Antioch, a governor was expected to descend from his transport to greet the boule, probably at the bouleuterion. Leo I’s entry into Constantinople also reveals that an incoming emperor formally descended from his carriage to greet the Senate and urban prefect at the Forum of Constantine (with its

hierarchical order, and ending with specific political requests, in an identical order: Seeck (1920–24), with the Edessene example giving the following order: God, Augusti, Praetorian Prefects, Magister Militum per Orientem, Patrikios, Comes Orientis, Praeses, then requests (Acts of the Council of Ephesus, A.D. 449), and the Antioch example giving God, Emperor, Prefects (ἔπαρχος), then requests (Lib. Or. 56.16). The preface to the Cod. Theod. of 438 has a more irregular order of Emperor, Consul, and then requests. 67  Minuted acclamations: Constantine demanded that acclamations of provincial assemblies be written down and sent to him: Cod. Theod. 1.16.6 (AD 331) = Cod. Iust. 1.40.3. Same practice applied to ecclesiastical affairs: Coll. Avell. 14 (AD 418) (CSEL 35.2 (1898) 60); ACO 1.4 201 no. 274 (mentioned in documents associated with the Council of Ephesus, of AD 431). The acclamations of an adventus at Edessa are minuted in an official report, attached to documents associated with the ‘second/robber’ Council of Ephesus of AD 449: Flemming and Hoffmanns (1917) 15–21. 68  Inscribed acclamations on gates: at Hierapolis in Phrygia, at Ephesus, at Cple (Golden Gate): Roueché (1999a) 135; Meyer-Plath and Schneider (1943) 125–26 (no. 9, for military units in the early 5th c.); at Cyrrhus: Feissel (2000) 98, nos. 50–51 = Frézouls (1969) 81–93, pls. 27–34 and IGLS 1.147–47 (not seen) (for Justinian; for Justinian, Theodora, Belisarius and domesticus Eustathios, so AD 529–32 / 40); at Amida: SEG 41 (1991) 1514–1516; 54 (2004) 1572 (not seen) = Mango and Mango (1991) 470 nos. 5–7 (for magister militum Theodore ca. AD 628); Hierapolis (in Mesopotamia?) and Ma’an (Syria): Feissel (2000) 98 no. 52 = IGLS 4.1809 (to Count Iohannes, PLRE 3.651 Ioannes 43, and a secretis Theodore (AD 547–580) PLRE 3.1250 Theodorus 16); at Caesarea Palestinae: IGLCM no. 60 (‘he founded the metropolis’). 69   Vulnerability of arriving dignitaries: Theod. Hist. eccl. 5.4 (bishop Maris at Doliche).

70  Corporations lining main street in Cple: Imp. Exp. R497 / HC696 (AD 559). On this occasion soldiers (in white chlamydes with candles), magistrianoi, amourers, officiales of the praetorian, and urban prefects are mentioned lining the Mese. Ordinary people may have been kept well back or have been absent. For the involvement of corporations in later Byzantine imperial ceremonies, see McCormick (1986) 204–206. 71  Route within city decorated: discussed by Delmaire (1996) 42– 43, with references on general decoration of cities during festivals. Route to the palace decorated at Autun in 311: Pan. Lat. 8 (5).8.4, and in imaginary royal adventus of Victricius of Rouen, De Laude Sanctorum 12.15–25, plus the example of Emona in Illyricum in 388, below. For decoration of processional routes for imperial occasions, see McCormick (1986) 204–207, with the next footnote, and Turcan (1981). 72  Street decorations: wreaths (of branches κλάδων) for Julian in Gaul: Lib. Or. 18.41, one of which fell onto his head; also mentioned as decorating streets in general allusion to imperial adventus by Joh. Chrys. In Ep ad Phil. 13.4 (PG 62.281); garlands: Victricius of Rouen De Laude Sanctorum 12.16 (sertis); crowning the gates with green garlands virentibus sertis (Emona, AD 388): Pan. Lat. 2(12).37.4; tapestries on avenues (aulaeis undantes plateas) (Emona, AD 388): Pan. Lat. 2(12).37.4; Choricius Or. 8.26 describes banners spread between one house and the next (παραπετάσμασι χρώμεθα πρὸς ἄλλης ἐξ ἄλλης ἠρτημένοις οἰκίαν) (Gaza). 73  Ultimate destinations, Palace: for Constantine at Rome: Pan. Lat. 12(9).19.3; for Julian at Sirmium: Amm. Marc. 21.10.1; for Zeno at Cple in 476: Malalas 15.5; for Leo at Cple: Cer. 1.91. Episcopium/Great Church: at Alexandria for patriarch Cyrus under Heraclius: John of Nikiu Chronicle 120 (9) (12). Praetorium for the governor is a conjecture, but it would have been necessary to meet his officium, and this was the best place to do it: see Lavan (2001b) 50–51 for ceremony within these complexes.

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Senate House).74 At Rome, emperors not only visited the Senate building but also made a speech to the people, often from the Rostra in the forum.75 In cities where imperial family members were resident, officials also had to call at the palace as part of their adventus. If their cortege passed by without doing so this was seen by those watching as a major snub. The Caesar Gallus was belittled in this manner twice, just prior to his fall in 354: at both Antioch and Constantinople, where a prefect and a quaestor failed to visit his residence on their arrival.76 Conversely, the reception of the adventus of an emperor into the palace could be taken as definitively recognising the legitimacy of a regime: at Constantinople in 476, the reception of Zeno by the Senate and the troops in the Palace caused the usurper Basiliscus to give up his claims to power and flee to sanctuary. Governors could probably expect a similar reception on arriving at the praetorium, where they might formally greet members of their officium.77 Over time, Christian shrines started to feature along the route. In 449, a governor entering Edessa stopped at the martyrium of Zaccheus, whilst ca. 602 the icons of Phocas were greeted in the Lateran basilica at the edge of Rome, before being taken to a chapel in the Palatine Palace area. In the 7th and 8th c., the Exarchs of Italy were greeted by the Pope on the steps of St. Peter’s. Ultimately, secular officials would have had to continue on to their praetoria, making it unlikely that a church could act as the effective terminus to the adventus, outside of Rome, unless it was for a bishop.78

74  Boule/bouleuterion, visited by governors, at Antioch: Lib. Or. 46.40–41 if combined with Or. 18.150 (getting down from horse); at Constantinople: Leo I: Cer. 1.91 (AD 457). 75  Senate House and Rostra visited in Rome by emperors, who also make speeches to the people: Constantine, on his arch (to people from Rostra, Senate House not shown, AD 312); Constantius II in Amm. Marc. 16.10.13 (speech to people from tribunal, AD 357); Honorius in Claud. de VI cons. Honorii 587 (to people at Rostra, AD 404); Theodosius I: Pan. Lat. 12.47.3 (entered city, visited curia and Rostra, after defeat of Maximus, AD 388); Theoderic in Anon. Vales. 65 (to people at the Palm, AD 500). The tribunal could be the Rostra or might be in the Basilica of Maxentius. From these accounts it is clear that Constantius and Honorius visited the Senate in the actual Senate Building, whilst in accounts of Theoderic’s visit the Senate is clearly mentioned as if it is a place. 76  Imperial palace (of Gallus) shunned, (AD 353/54): Amm. Marc. 14.7.10 (by a praetorian prefect, at Antioch), 14.11.14 (a quaestor, at Cple). 77  Palace reception signifying imperial legitimacy: Malalas 15.5. 78  Christian shrines visited in adventus, some definitely extramural: at Edessa general in AD 449: Flemming and Hoffmanns (1917) 15–17. At Rome, portraits of Phocas: Greg. Ep. Appendix 8 (ca. 602); Charlemagne / exarchs of Italy, (AD 774): Lib. Pont. 96.37 (vol. 1 p. 497).

165 Profectio Some degree of street ceremonial should also be envisaged for the departure, or profectio, of an emperor or general from a city, although this is not recorded with as much prominence or clarity as the adventus. Its significance seems to have depended partly on the nature of the departure: to war, or on some other momentous event for the city. Ordinary departures do not appear in our sources. The departure of Constantine from Milan to face Maxentius features on his Arch in Rome as part of a sequence of narrative images. In 360, the departing train of Constantius II, from Hierapolis in Syria, was accompanied by a group of local dignitaries, which included a former governor who flattered the emperor on his chances of success against Julian.79 When setting out for campaign, surrounded by troops, a general was probably sure of the support of the people. The departure of any official linked to the imperial court was, however, an opportunity to obtain favour. At Antioch in 387, the departure of the general Ellebichus to Constantinople, after presiding over the ‘Statues Trial’, was a major event on which the fate of the city hung: women are said to have lined the streets for 30 stades out of the city, whilst Libanius followed on a horse, as a gesture of respect and supplication. On a somewhat less dramatic occasion, a general leaving Edessa in 506/507, was treated to songs, having spared the city from providing billets for his army. The descriptions we have, and the overall rarity of this ritual in our sources, suggests that the occasion was far more informal than the adventus, and that the size of crowds might vary greatly depending on the popularity of the official.80 If an official sought to escape from a city, it is likely that the profectio was an even less structured occasion and might present opportunities for disgruntled citizens to get their revenge. Thus, the emperor Petronius Maximus was killed by a rock thrown at him as he was fleeing Rome in 455, as the Vandals closed in. Pope Vigilius was also treated to insults upon leaving the same city for Constantinople during the Gothic Wars, by crowds who did not realise he was doing so under arrest. According to the Liber Pontificalis, when the people saw his ship start to move off down the Tiber, they pelted it with stones, branches, and cooking-pots, shouting ‘Take 79  Profectio, imperial: of Constantine (from Milan, AD 312): see reliefs of arch, in Mayer (2002) 38.1; of Constantius II (from Hierapolis in Syria, AD 360/61): Amm Marc. 22.14.4–5; of Petronius Maximus (from Rome, AD 455): Priscus Book 5 Frag. 30. 80  Profectio, of generals, of Ellebichus, magister militum (at Antioch, AD 387): Lib. Or. 21.12–13; PLRE 1.277–78 Ellebichus; of Celer the magistros (at Edessa): Josh. Styl. 100 (AD 506/507); PLRE 2.275–77 Celer.

166 your famine with you! Take your deaths with you! You treated the Romans badly; may you meet evil where you are going!’ This recalls a similar scene recorded by Gregory of Tours. The departing envoys of Childebert, who had exchanged harsh words with Guntram, had horse dung, wood chips, straw, mouldy hay, and mud thrown at them, on the orders of the king. Such ‘good riddance’ rituals, which are attested from the mid 5th c. onwards, seem symptomatic of a coarser, less-structured medieval urban behaviour. They may have been seen earlier in Late Antiquity, but were perhaps not as frequent, as there were fewer traumatic events, whilst political authorities had a greater ability to resolve problems, or to punish people who gave such offence.81 Imperial Coronations, Marriages, Baptisms, and Funerals At Rome, Constantinople, and in other imperial cities, there were a number of special processions whereby the ruler and his court were displayed to the people in the street, in a more intimate and dramatic way than was possible in the Hippodrome. Almost all of our evidence comes from the eastern capital, although we should imagine that other court cities saw similar displays. A few late antique rituals are preserved in the Book of Ceremonies, along with a great number of later processions, some of which have late antique origins. From my own position, living within the conventions of a constitutional monarchy, it is easy to forget how significant such occasions were. They were admittedly splendid holidays, but under a military monarchy, which produced either strong men or untried child rulers, the emperor’s choice of marriage partner or the identity of an heir were matters that affected everyone. Stable customs for the transfer of power, through hereditary or constitutional principles were lacking. The very freedom emperors enjoyed in choosing both relationships was mirrored in the public’s ability to challenge them in the hippodrome or street, giving imperial festival parades a significance that went beyond the cultural pageantry which one associates with such ceremonies today. Perhaps the most elaborate procession seen in the capital, in terms of both of its style and route, was connected to the imperial accession ceremony, when military, palatine, and ecclesiastical leaders revealed the new ruler, sometimes after days of infighting and indecision, which had followed the death of a sovereign. The 81  Disorderly profectio: of Petronius Maximus (Rome): see n. 79 above; of Pope Vigilius (Rome, AD 545): Lib. Pont. 61.4 (lapides fustes cacabos), with the quotation from the translation of Davis (1989) 59; of envoys of Childebert (probably Orleans, ca. 584, after death of Chilperic): Gregory of Tours Hist. 7.14, PLRE 3.292–96 Chilpericus 1.

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accession ceremony for Leo I in 457 strongly resembled an adventus: the emperor was presented with the imperial insignia on a tribunal in front of the army, outside the walls at the Hebdomon; he received acclamations and was raised up on a shield. He rode towards the city in military dress on a white horse but changed into a white tunic with purple cloak at an extra-mural palace. Then he entered the city through the Golden Gate, sitting in a carriage with the foremost patrician, preceded by leading aristocrats, who led him down the main processional way to the Forum of Constantine. Here, he descended from his carriage to greet the Urban Prefect and Senate, outside the Senate House, before following the Mese, the principal colonnaded street of the city, finishing up at the Augusteion and St. Sophia for Mass, before entering the palace. Basiliscus and Maurice were also acclaimed at the Hebdomon Palace, like Leo, and would thus have required a similar procession into the city, but other late antique emperors were acclaimed at the Great Palace, or in the Hippodrome, with no street ritual recorded in either case.82 Baptisms and imperial weddings were also great occasions: the weddings of Serena and Stilicho at Constantinople, of Honorius and Maria at Milan, or Maurice and Constantina in the eastern capital, definitely involved processions. Street rituals also took place for the baptism of Theodosius II, at Constantinople, and for that of Clovis at Rheims. If we can believe our sources for the last two events, each writing a century or so later, the streets were decorated, between the palace and the baptistery for Clovis.83 These public festivals were clearly opportunities for as an unhurried display of rank and political relationships. For the wedding of his daughter Maria, Stilicho was accompanied by soldiers in white cloaks, crowned with laurel and myrtle, who scattered flowers with purple blossoms and sang of their general’s achievements and his good fortune. The wedding party following the cavalcade of Constantina included those ‘numbered among the offices at court and the armies, who lit the marital candles, magnificently dressed and with the insignia of their rank’. Finally, Zosimus implies that the people of the eastern capital wore wreaths to

82  Imperial accessions: of Leo I acclaimed outside of the city (AD 457): Cer. 1.91. For others mentioned see Boak (1919); of Hypatius (AD 532) acclaimed in Forum of Constantine: Procop. Pers. 1.24.24; of Justin II (AD 565): Corippus, Laud. Just. 2.84–174. 83  Imperial / royal baptisms: of Theodosius II (at Cple, just after made Augustus, which should be in AD 402): V. Porph. 47, PLRE 2.1100–1101 Theodosius 6; of Clovis (at Rheims, AD 496/7 or 506): Gregory of Tours, Hist. 2.31.

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mark imperial weddings, by order of the imperial court, as they did for the engagement of Arcadius to Eudoxia.84 According to later writers, who were not eye witnesses, the baptism of Theodosius II at Constantinople saw the city draped with garlands, silks, and gold vessels, whilst that of Clovis at Rheims saw the streets (plateae) decorated with coloured cloths, and the baptistery with white hangings. For the accession of Justin II, the ornaments of the eastern capital are described in detail by the 6th c. poet Corippus, who wrote at the time of the event: garlands were made out of flowers, fruits, and olive branches, doors and thresholds were decorated with reeds, festive coverings stretched along the street: ‘all the city was hung with garlands and adorned with silks and gold vessels and all manner of other adornments’. It is tempting to imagine that the same drapes brightened every imperial procession. However, these ornaments are not found decorating buildings on late antique depictions of the adventus such as the Trier Ivory, or the forum scene of the Arch of Constantine, although garlands decorate buildings on 2nd c. ‘festival’ friezes reused on the latter monument, and are also found decorating the Column of Arcadius. As already noted, we can confirm from texts that both tapestries and garlands did feature during some imperial adventus celebrations, if not all. But it is likely that street decoration was of a greater order of magnitude for royal accessions, weddings and baptisms in an imperial capital, when no expense would be spared.85 Imperial funerals were also important public occasions, incorporating distinctive processions. We have one account from Rome: the body of Theodosius, ?son of Galla Placidia and Ataulf, was taken in procession by Pope Leo and Placidia with the Senate to an imperial mausoleum at St. Peter’s, around 451. At Constantinople, the funerals of Constantine, Constantius II, and Justinian are the best documented, though some details are also known for the Gothic king Athanaric.86 Constantine 84  Imperial weddings: of Stilicho and Serena (ca. 384, probably Cple, where court of Theodosius was based, PLRE 1.824 Serena): Claud. III cos. Hon. 155–56; of Honorius and Maria (at Milan, AD 398): Claud. Epith. 295–300; (at 180–84 identifying the city); Fescennine Verses 3; Claud. Carm. Min. 1 (13); of Maurice and Constantina (at Cple, ca. AD 582): Evagr. Hist. eccl. 6.1. See also nn. 263–80 below; generic wedding / engagement: Zos. 5.3.4. 85  Decoration of state festivals: see previous footnotes for references; garlands: not on the Trier Ivory: see n. 42 above; not on Arch of Constantine friezes: Mayer (2002) 39.2, 40.1–2; present on Column of Arcadius: Mayer (2002) table 21. 86  Imperial funerals: in general: see Arce (2000a), from which this chapter derives much benefit; of ?child Theodosius (Rome, 451 (consulship of Adelphius), 37 years after his death): Prosper of Aquitaine Epitoma Chronicon (PL 51.602) (in manuscript variant). Note that it is listed immediately before the

167 was carried across the city in a golden coffin / chest (larnax), draped in purple. It was taken from the Palace to the Church of the Holy Apostles, in a procession headed by the army and his son Constantius, preceded by soldiers in military array, with spearmen and heavily armed infantry surrounding the body, followed by crowds. Constantius’ own corpse was taken to the same church, as was that of Justinian, accompanied by a line of singing deacons, a choir of virgins, and the people, carrying torches. The funeral of Athanaric received comparable pomp, when, according to Jordanes, Theodosius I gave him a worthy burial and walked with his bier at the funeral. The route from the Palace to the Holy Apostles would have taken in the main colonnaded street of the city, and, significantly, it would have passed both the Forum of Constantine and his Capitol (a Constantinian dynastic monument), before arriving at the founder’s tomb, in this hill-top church. Opportunities for stressing imperial continuity were thus potentially present within the ritual, at what was of course a potentially fragile moment in the politics of succession. The use of the main street would have permitted ample crowds, who are attested in the capital for both the funerals of Constantine and of Justinian. There is no recorded protest at these ceremonies, only of tears and passive participation. Only one affront is recorded: when a female slave spat from an upstairs window onto the open coffin of Eudocia, Augusta of and mother Heraclius. This resulted in her being burned to death by the mourners. The fact that the spitting is presented as having been an accident, alongside the reaction of the crowd, suggests a high degree of consent for funeral decorum. This atmosphere gave the court an opportunity to make public points about the dignity of the imperial office and the succession in a receptive setting.87 Consular Inaugurations The capitals also saw some other distinctive street processions that could involve the emperor or his highest officials. Of the latter, the most prominent was perhaps death of Theodosius II (ruler of the East) in 450 in the manuscript so might be a confusion / invention. See also Johnson (2009) 8–16 and 167–74; of Constantine (Cple, AD 337): Euseb. Vit. Const. 4.66, 4.70; of Constantius II (Cple, AD 361/2): Greg. Naz. Or. 5.17; Lib. Or. 18.120–21; Amm. Marc. 21.16.20 (body goes back through provinces to Cple); of Justinian (Cple, AD 565): Corippus Laud. Just. 3.1–60; of Athanaric (Cple, AD 381): Jordanes Get. 28 (144). 87  Crowd reaction to imperial funerals: of Justinian, Corippus Laud. Just. 3.44–44 records many tears; of Constantine, Euseb. Vit. Const 4.70 has the crowds passively following the imperial and ecclesiastical spectacle; of Eudocia, Augusta of Heraclius (spitting): Nikephorus Patriarch of Constantinople Istoria syntomos (edn. de Boor 1880) 7 lines 12–27.

168 that for the inauguration of new consuls, which was traditionally held on 1 January, known by the name of the processus consularis. We hear of the inauguration processions of Honorius and Stilicho at Milan, and of Jovian at Ankara. The same procession likely continued at Rome, where it originated. Sidonius Apollinaris implies that the consul’s chair was still an objective for Gallic aristocrats in the 470s. He reveals that much of the inauguration ceremony was intact, though neither he nor Cassiodorus describes the procession itself. In 508, Clovis, having been granted a consulship by Anastasius, processed at Tours, but his use of a horse rather than a chair, and his wearing of a diadem and a chlamys, suggests that he knew little of the ritual. This is surprising given that inauguration processions of Gallic bishops seem to have aped the consular ceremony, as will be discussed later. We are best informed about Constantinople, where nobles processed as consuls until Justinian made the office an imperial monopoly, from 541. Belisarius was one of the last non-imperial consuls to enjoy the honour. Justin II also undertook the rite, in an inauguration recorded in detail by Corippus. Finally, we hear that Heraclius did not parade for his consulship in 611, marking the end of the tradition.88 Throughout Late Antiquity, consuls were carried at their inauguration on a curule chair, as were certainly Jovian, Stilicho and Honorius, Belisarius and Justin II, 88  Consular inauguration procession: in general, see Cameron (1976) 201–203 with ample bibliography, Delbrueck (1929) 66–68 and Stern (1953) 157–59; Maximian (Trier, AD 287): procession alluded to with fasces, curule throne, and crowd of courtiers, then curule chair and toga praetexta mentioned Pan. Lat. 10(2).3.2–3, 10(2).6.2 with commentary in edn. of Nixon and Rodgers (1994) 42–43; Julian (Constantinople, 362, in which J. participates but was not consul): Pan. Lat. 3.29–30; Honorius (Milan, AD 398): Claud. de IV cos. Hon. 13 (curules), with an allusion at de VI cos. Hon. 644–46; Stilicho (?Milan, where the court was based, AD 400): Claud. de cos. Stil. 3.94–95, (curulem); Mamertinus and Nevitta (Cple, AD 362) (on lectica consularis): Pan. Lat. 3(11).30; Jovian, with son Varronianus (Ankara, AD 363): Amm. Marc. 25.10.11 (in curuli sella); Belisarius (Cple, AD 535): Procop. Vand. 2.9.15–16; Justinian: see below n. 92; Justin II (Cple, AD 566): Corippus, Laud. Just. 4.1–4, 4.226 (divalis sella). Consulship reserved for emperor after AD 541: Cameron and Schauer (1982) 140–42; Meier (2002), with Procop. Anec. 26.15; Fl. Astyrius (at Rome, Milan or Ravenna, AD 449): Sid. Apoll. Ep. 8.6.5 (sella curulis), 8.8.3 (ivory chair, eboratas curules); Clovis (Tours AD 508): Gregory of Tours Hist. 2.38. Heraclius: (Cple, AD 611) (end of parade, as did not process on a ‘chariot’ δίφρου): Chron Pasc. Olympiad 347 (where it is mistranslated as sella curulis in the Latin in the edn. of Dindorf (1832)). The only late antique attestation of the term processus consularis, to my knowledge, comes from coins of Maxentius, for which see n. 115 below. Just. Nov. 105.1 (AD 537) does not name the inauguration procession, though it refers to seven processions for consuls. On Gallic bishops see n. 406 below.

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and probably Maximian. This chair would have been set on a litter: at Constantinople, in 362, consular litters were definitely in use during processions. We cannot be sure if the chair resembled the folding sella curulis of earlier centuries: the diptych of Fl. Astyrius (consul 449) seems to show a traditional folding design, as was used for the 6th–7th c. ‘throne of Dagobert’, but other consular depictions reveal more elaborate thrones, with more conventional legs.89 After the time of Justin II, imperial consuls are only attested as processing in chariots, until Heraclius suppressed the practice: this is suggested by a remark in the Chronicon Paschale and by coins of this period. Depictions of consuls in chariots are known from earlier centuries, but probably do not refer to the consular inauguration, rather to a separate procession for consular games, described below.90 A distinctive aspect of both types of consular procession was a distribution of money or gifts (sparsio), thrown to the crowd by the magistrate in a gesture of liberalitas, known from consular diptychs, from Sidonius and other sources. Clovis showered his crowds at Tours with gold and silver coins, following traditional practice, as did Stilicho. Belisarius threw to the populace the spoils of the Vandalic War.91 Justinian sought to restrict the coins thrown during the seven annual consular processions at Constantinople 89  Consul’s chair: see n. 88 above and in the main text. We hear of the chair being carried on ‘young men’s necks’ for Honorius (Claud. de IV cos. Hon. 13) and on shoulders for Justin II (Corippus Laud. Just. 4.228–32), with the aid of leather straps. Republican consuls seem to have processed on foot: Ov. Pont. 4.9.17f; Pina Polo (2011) 17–18. For the chair at this time, more of a throne than a folding stool, see Delbrueck (1929) 63–64 and Stern (1953) 159. For the diptych of Fl. Astyrius see Harvard University Art Museums 226149, visible via http://via.lib.harvard.edu/ (last accessed March 2014). ‘Throne of Dagobert’, 6th–7th c.: BnF, Monnaies, Médailles et Antiques, Inv. 55–651. 90  Consuls process in chariots: imperial consuls in time of Tiberius or Maurice (according to their coins), and also for Constantine and Constantius II (when latter was Caesar) in 326: Ross (1957) 251–56; Cameron (1973) 19–23; Whitting (1973) 114 (for Maurice), with Gregory of Tours Hist. 6.2 (for Tiberius); Heraclius: see n. 88; Justin II did not process in a chariot as suggested by Corippus Laud. Just. 4.327, as translated by Cameron (1976) 116, as no word in the Latin supports this (the phrase consulis arcem is used, which might be a throne, as no procession is subsequently described); non-imperial consuls in chariots to open games: Just. Nov. 105 (AD 537). Note that it is no longer believed that middle or late imperial consuls processed in chariots at their first-day inauguration parade: see secondary works cited in n. 88 above. 91  Sparsio, Stilicho at Milan: Claud. de cos. Stil. 3.223–36; Clovis at Tours: Gregory of Tours Hist. 2.38; Belisarius at Cple: Procop. Vand. 2.9.15–16; Astyrius: Sid. Apoll. Ep. 8.6; Justin II: Corippus Laud. Just. 4.224 (the last two being unspecified largesse). See also Delbrueck (1929) 68–70; Stern (1953) 155–59; Olovsdotter (2005) 128, 180–83. For sparsio thrown from chariots see n. 101, 114 below.

Street Processions

to silver, restricting gold for his own generosity, which apparently surpassed all others in his consular sparsio of 528.92 On the processional order and clothing of those participating in the inauguration cortege we have a few sources, of which Claudian, Sidonius, and Corippus are most detailed. The order of Justin’s procession, which was marshalled into separate groups by a herald, was first senators, then ministers, then the palace guard, amongst whom the emperor was carried aloft. The consular parade of Honorius saw senators, then ministers, then soldiers, with the emperor carried amongst the senators. Julian walked ahead of the consular litters with senators at Constantinople, as part of his display of humility.93 Claudian mentions that the consul’s name was displayed in an ivory and gold plaque, which was carried ‘in procession among lords and commons’.94 We can expect that the consuls wore the trabea, as did Honorius, Astyrius and Justin II, and emperors shown on consular medallions. These were purple togas, heavily incrusted with jewels, at this date, as in the mosaic depiction of Junius Annius Bassus (consul 331) (fig. C2b). Clovis wore a purple tunic under his cloak, perhaps showing again that he was somewhat confused about what was appropriate.95 Justin II was carried by men of the same size and age, with red garments and gold belts, whilst Belisarius was held aloft by captives. Both Claudian and Corippus mention lictors being present. They are probably identical with the censor’s men standing nearest to the consul Astyrius, in the description of Sidonius, clothed in ‘official mantles’ (paenulae), although on his diptych the lictors wear chlamydes, held possibly in one case by a cross-bow brooch, over tunics. A consular sarcophagus 92  Consular generosity, regulations: Just. Nov. 105 (AD 536) only imperial consuls to perform sparsio; and gold coins only for imperial consuls, silver for others, and other restrictions. For earlier interest in regulation of consular honours, including banning sparsio see: Cod. Iust. 12.3.2 (AD 452); Justinian, consulship at Cple of AD 528: Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 327 (AD 528); repeating lavishness of 521: Marcell. com. (AD 521). 93  Procession composition and order: Corippus Laud. Just. 4.233– 39; Claud. de IV cos Hon. 1–17 (based on a very flowery description, perhaps not so accurate as Cameron (1976) 203–204 suggests). Pan. Lat. 3.29–30. 94  Consul’s name on a plaque (in tabulas): Claud. de cos. Stil. 3.369–71 (ivory, iron and gold, likely meaning gilded iron letters). 95  Dress of consul: trabea, depictions and discussion: Delbrueck (1929) 43–58, esp. 52–54, with nos 87, 99 and 109 for medallions, though Maurice seems to be in a curaisse with cloak on one occasion, Ross (1957) fig. 5, with n. 112 below for Bassus; in texts: Claud. de IV cos Hon.12; Corippus Laud. Just. 4.9, 4.123– 24, 4.243, 4.312; Sid. Apoll. Ep. 8.6.5–6 (describing purple colour); purple tunic and chlamys: Gregory of Tours, Hist. 2.38 (Clovis).

169 of ca. 244/45 shows lictors wearing only long-sleeved tunics, in a civil consular procession, whilst on the Bourges ‘diptych of Aetius’ (sometime before 476) they wear paenulae, over tunics, leggings and boots. On the sarcophagus, the lictors carry a single stick with no axe, rather than a traditional bunch of rods. Fasces also appear on the Bourges diptych, as long curved double rods without an axe. There is only a single depiction of an attendant carrying such a weapon within his (double rod) fasces, on the diptych of Astyrius. In this case it can only approximately be associated with depictions of the traditional securis axe, making it likely that the tradition had lapsed.96 Of the rest of the group, we can assume they wore costume that denoted official rank, although Corippus has senators in either trabeae or togas, the former perhaps distinguishing ex-consuls.97 The route of the consular procession had a strong relationship to the public and sacred spaces of the capital. In Republican Rome, the consul being inaugurated went from his home, where he assumed the toga praetexta, to the Capitol, surrounded by senators and friends. This procession, which would have likely passed the Forum, followed at least part of the Via Sacra. It terminated on the Capitol with a sacrifice and a first session of the Senate.98 Unfortunately, we do not know how this route evolved in Late Antiquity. At Constantinople, we hear Julian walking from the Palace to the Senate House in the toga praetexta, surrounded by consuls in similar dress, who seem to have come there as part of an inaugural parade. The imperial consulship procession of Justin II went from the Palace to the Great Church, via a colonnaded street (likely the Regia), where grandstands had been erected in the porticoes, and a sparsio took place. There was a decisive meeting of the people, somewhere in between, ‘where the path led into the middle of the city by a direct route’, near the threshold of St. Sophia. This sounds like a reference to the main colonnaded street (the Mese), seen from the Milion, the bottom of which Justin would have passed if taking the road from the Palace into the 96  Dress of attendants: porters in red tunics with gold belts: Corippus Laud. Just. 4–230–31; lictors: Claud. de VI cos Hon. 646; Sid. Apoll. Ep. 8.6 (eye witness); Corippus Laud. Just. 4.237; depiction of AD 244/45: Gori (1743) pl. 7, commented by Borg (2013) 191; Aetius diptych: Volbach (1976) no. 3, Olovsdotter (2005) 26–38 no. 5 with pl. 5; Astyrius diptych: Olovostdotter (2005) 24–26 no. 4 with pl. 4 and 85–86. What may be straight ?fasces (single rods) are visible on the liberalitas scene of the Arch of Constantine, when he is presiding in a toga: Mayer (2002) pl. 39.3. 97  Dress of senators in togas or trabeae: Corippus Laud. Just. 4.232–33. 98  Route in Republican Rome: see references in Pina Polo (2011) 17–18. The late antique passage through the Forum and Via Sacra is a conjecture of mine.

170 atrium of the Great Church. The route taken by Clovis at Tours in 508 also had a Christian sanctuary as its end point: he came out from the city (presumably also from a palace) to the extramural basilica of St. Martin. In this procession, perhaps he imitated contemporary practice at Constantinople, where the route taken by consular inaugurations may have already involved a church.99 The reaction of the crowd to these processions was joyful. One might imagine that the significant amounts of money being thrown could well have led to jostling over the coins: two gold solidi represented a year’s food for some. A New Year procession at Antioch (by horse trainers), also involved throwing gold pieces. Libanius noted ‘it is most delightful to shove one’s neighbour aside and catch the money as it flies through the air, and they rejoice at being trampled there’. Consular iconography certainly suggests open-handed generosity, which would have encouraged similar scenes. Even so, it is possible that for this important state occasion the sparsio was measured to reach different sections of the crowd, and that most went to those who had been given good positions on account of their loyalty or importance. A privileged place for the guilds is noted by Corippus: in Justin’s day they stood on a wooden grandstand and were able to catch the magistrate’s gifts in the fold of their cloaks by extending their hands. This suggests a quite ordered crowd reaction, with no-one breaking ranks from their perches on the wooden steps, although further down the route there might well have been a scrum amongst other spectators.100 At least some of the coins given are likely to have been consular medallions—which were especially popular in the 6th c.—probably of the liberalitas type, which can show emperors in a chariot distributing 99  Route in Late Antiquity: at Tours (Clovis): Gregory of Tours Hist. 2.38; at Cple (Julian): Pan. Lat. 3.29. at Cple (Justin II): Corippus Laud. Just. 4.205–265. Justin came out of the palace to the wooden grandstands of the collegia, which were set in the middle of the forum (medioque fori). This is a generic expression that could mean ‘in public’. It could mean the grandstands were ‘in the Augusteion (a forum / agora)’, or more likely in the colonnaded street adjacent to it (the Regia), which led from the Chalke Gate: Corippus Laud. Just. 4.1–85, esp. 4.2 and 4.9. The grandstands were built under arches (arcus), which probably means arcaded porticoes, as seems certain from 2.89. It is unlikely that the full Mese was arranged with the grandstands, as the consul went off to the Great Church (4.205–265), after having shown himself to the people at a point where a straight road led to the middle of the city (1.249). 100  Sparsio: Delbrueck (1929) 66–68; Stern (1953) 155–59. Value: two to three solidi as providing one year’s food for an adult see Jones (1964) 447–48. Crowd reaction: Lib. Progymnasmata 13.5.7 (translation from Gibson (2008) 439); collegia wellplaced for catching sparsio from the wooden grandstands outside the palace: Corippus Laud. Just. 4.68–69. For medieval and post-medieval ceremonies of sparsio and brawls over the coins: see Bertelli (1990) 105–13.

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this same money.101 Indirect evidence suggests that the public response to the consular procession was goodnatured. Consular inaugurations were playfully mocked through imitation in Kalends celebrations and at other times, whilst the death of a consul designate at Rome in 387 provoked a spontaneous gathering in the theatre: acclamations of grief were shouted by those who mourned the loss of the entertainments which he had planned. As an office which now held little real power, the consul’s main role was as an organiser of spectacles. The public doubtless welcomed the inauguration of this ‘master of fun’, with the high spirits he encouraged.102 Circus Parades Circus parades were usually held to inaugurate games, by showing off the artists who were due to perform and, very often, to present the patron who was presiding over and paying for the occasion.103 For this reason, they need to be considered alongside political processions, and follow easily after a discussion of consular inauguration, as it was for consular games that the most spectacular parades were traditionally held. In Late Antiquity, circus processions are associated with imperial capitals and some provincial capitals, although they may have been held in some larger cities without either status. Unfortunately, my knowledge of them is dependent on only a few literary sources, and difficult depictions, not all of which can be closely dated. Direct descriptions of the processions only come from a chronicle and an 8th c. local history, both relating to Constantinople, as well as from a sermon of John Chrysostom, which recalls a parade in Antioch. Otherwise, we are mainly reliant on an incidental mention in the laws of Justinian, on a papyrus list from Oxyrhynchus, and on literary illusions by Macrobius. Thus, there is a large degree of potential error, if contrasted with my account given for the consular inauguration procession, or for the adventus, described above. At present, an overall synthetic reconstruction seems impossible. Rather, we must instead undertake 101  Consular medallions: Ross (1957) see esp. 256 and fig. 8, which shows coins being scattered from a chariot along with circus prizes (gold/silver leaves) by an emperor, who is either Tiberius II or Maurice. 102   Popularity of consular inaugurations mocked: see n. 316. Consul designate mourned: Symmachus Relat. 10 (Rome, AD 387); PLRE 1.722–24 Vettius Agorius Praetextatus 1. 103  Pompae circenses in Early Empire: Arena (2009) 78ff, with Latham (2007) 28–185, focusing on Rome, also covering Late Antiquity. I received the fine book Latham (2016) only on submission of my text in 2019 and so am not able to incorporate his work here, which on 197–220, dealing with Late Antiquity, includes some further images from a medallion of Constantius II and two 4th c. sarcophagi of individual ferculae or chariots carrying pagan divine images, which might have been part of this procession in Rome. See also ‘procession’ in index of Humphrey (1986).

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a critique of the available evidence for Constantinople, Rome and elsewhere, from which some insights can be obtained. At Constantinople, a processional ritual existed to celebrate the anniversary of the foundation of the city, either up to the time of Theodosius I, according to the Parastaseis, or to the 6th c. according to Malalas. This took place on 11 May. If we accept the reconstruction suggested by Bauer, which combines both of these texts, a huge gilded wooden statue of Constantine, displaying the Tyche of the city in its hand, was paraded in a chariot from the Capitol (at least initially), then through the Forum of Constantine down the Mese. It was escorted by soldiers dressed in white chlamydes and boots, carrying candles, and was then paraded before the people in the Hippodrome, where it was led to the reigning emperor, who made obeisance to it.104 Curran has suggested that it may represent the transplantation to the new capital of the pompa circensis, seen at Rome from the Republic onwards. These parades started at the Capitol and then followed the Via Sacra, to take in the Forum Romanum, before heading down to the Circus Maximus. They seem to have included images of emperors, living and dead, from the time of Augustus, with Julius Caesar having displayed himself on a ferculum (litter) and a tensa (a mobile platform, often attested as being drawn by elephants).105

104   Processions of imperial images at Cple: Malalas 13.8, Parastaseis 5, 56 with Bauer (2001) 31–37 and Bardill (2012) 151–58. Parastaseis notes that the statue of Constantine originally came from the ‘capitol’ of that city. This was probably a temple to the Flavian dynasty, because it seems to be equivalent in location to the Philadelphion where statues of Constantine’s family were displayed: Notitia Urbis Const. Regio 8 gives the capitol’s location, whilst Imp. Exp. places it on the Mese between the Forum of Theodosius and the Forum Bovis, as do deductions from Cod. Theod. 14.9.3 (AD 425) and an inscription found in the area of the 8th region, at the Lâleli mosque: Feissel (2003) esp. 500–505; the statues (likely the Vienna Tetrarchs) were of Constantine’s sons: Parastaseis 70, Patria 2.50, with Bauer (1996) 228–33 and Berger (1988) 322– 67. A western law of AD 425 (Cod. Theod. 15.4.1) does refer to the exposition of imperial images at ludi, as Curran (2000) 256 notes, but no procession is recorded, although it is for images of Phocas brought into the Hippodrome at Cple: Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 347 (AD 610). I do not think that either attest to the pompa circensis. On the 11th May date of the foundation (consecration) of Constantinople, see Zonor. 13.3.22–28; Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 227 (AD 330). 105  Constantine’s statue procession as a pompa circensis: see Curran (2000) 255–58 for his account of late antique pompae, which tends to be a maximalist interpretation of continuity, with detail drawn from earlier parades in Rome. Caesar on ferculum and tensa: Suet. Iul. 76.1, with other references in Fishwick (1987) 58. See also n. 109 for references to the display of these images during imperial consecratio (deification) ceremonies.

171 For late antique Rome, we have no unambiguous textual references to the survival of a parade of this nature. Certainly, there is nothing to compare with the description of pompae circenses provided for the Republic by Dionysius of Halicarnassus, drawing on Fabius Pictor. This featured a procession of ‘those who held supreme power’ (likely the consuls), followed by aspiring military cadets, performers, and a parade of statues of the gods carried on fercula, with their attributes (exuviae) pulled on tensae.106 Yet, there are a number of sarcophagi depictions from Italy, from either the 3rd or 4th c., which seem to show elements of this ritual. A consular sarcophagus relief from Aquileia (but from a Roman workshop), dated to the later 4th c. by stylistic parallels with a sarcophagus of 359, is especially pertinent. It depicts a magistrate clad in an old-style toga (likely the consul) accompanied by a colleague in a toga of 3rd– 4th c. style, passing a street colonnade. The magistrates are seated together on a carpentum, not a chariot. They are preceded and followed by fercula (one of which carries a Victory), each held aloft by four bearers, clad in paenulae and tunics. No circus performers are shown, which might make the identification of the parade certain. A second sarcophagus relief, from around the same time, now in San Lorenzo fuori le Mura (fig. C2a), shows fercula carrying a seated Cybele with her lions, and a Victory, supported by similarly-dressed bearers, whilst one attendant blows a long trumpet and another (to my eyes) plays a portable organ. Again, performers are not shown, and two magistrates are depicted, one in each type of toga.107 There is a critical extra detail on the San Lorenzo sarcophagus: the officials are here shown walking in front of a cart (not a chariot), led by four elephants, a tensa. Unfortunately, the relief is damaged, making it impossible to see what type of image the platform was carrying. However, it is likely that the wagon was used to carry images of emperors, as they were during a deification (consecratio) rite held in the circus, such as that recorded by

106  Republican circus procession: Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 7.72.1–13 (Q. Fabius Pictor frag. 20). 107  Italian depictions of circus parade, 3rd or 4th c.: in general: Borg (2013) 186–91; Aquileia frieze: Maionica (1911) 60, no. 64, dated suggestively to the later 4th c. based on similarities with the sarcophagus of Junius Bassus signo Theotecnius (d. 359), notably the youthful short-haired heads: Himmelmann (1973) 38–39; PLRE 1.155 Iunius Bassus signo Theotecnius 15; Rome sarcophagus (San Lorenzo fuori le Mura) again dated to the later 4th c. based on Bassus sarcophagus parallels, such as the hairstyle of the heads and the ¾ projection of some heads out from the relief, which may anticipate the fully frontal facing reliefs of the Theodosian period, notably that of the base of the obelisk of Theodosius of AD 390. On this, see Himmelmann (1973) 22, 37–44, esp. 42, 56b, 57a–b.

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figure c2a

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Circus parades: Consular sarcophagus from San Lorenzo, Rome Photos: Mrs. G. Fittschen-Badura arachne.dainst.org/entity/5332338; arachne.dainst.org/entity/5332336

Herodian in the early 3rd c.108 The survival of this kind of ‘float’ is confirmed by the depiction of an elephant tensa carrying an imperial effigy on a diptych of the Symmachi of ca. 400. The ivory also shows the deceased ruler being carried heavenward by (male) winged beings, marking it out as a consecratio, not a circus parade. Yet, the San Lorenzo depiction is less specific: it also shows a range of gods being carried on fercula, suggesting that the tensa illustrated here was just one float amongst many. It is not the central focus, as in the diptych, and looks like a modified carpentum, rather than the utterly exceptional vehicle which features in the Symmachi diptych. Here, an aedicule for the statue is carried on a substantial tiered structure, like a wedding cake. Furthermore, there is a distribution of bread, a feature absent on the sarcophagus, perhaps suggesting the former represented a more unusual event.109 Thus, we can be reasonably confident that these two Italian sarcophagi represent a traditional circus parade still surviving at Rome in the 4th c., rather than imperial consecratio ceremonies or any other kind of religious procession. We can also discount the suggestion that the San Lorenzo sarcophagus depicts a parade for Cybele / Magna Mater, as this is only one of the cult images 108  Early Imperial consecratio: Olovsdotter (2005) 170–72; Davies (2000) 9–12; Arce (2000a); Price (1987); Cameron (1986). Medallions show elephants pulling the effigy of dead emperors for the pompa circenses of this event: Mattingly (1928) 147 and now Latham (2016) 122–32. See Bickermann (1929) 4–12 on the rites, with 9–10 n. 5 for medallions with elephants pulling vehicles with images of Trajan’s sister and of Pertinax. 109  Tensae as vehicles for imperial images: for Septimius Severus: Herodian 4.2; on Symmachi apotheosis diptych: see Volbach (1976) no. 56 (London, British Museum); Buckton (1994) no. 44, with Cameron (1986). The presence of a pediment on the elephant tensa (suggesting a cult image in a temple) should point to an imperial deification rather the celebration of a consul: Lathan (2007) 172–73. The diptych is thought to be after AD 402, based on an identification of the person in the tensa as Symmachus, but this need not be the case, even if the relief is likely to date to the 4th to early 5th c.

carried. It is possible to suggest rather that the sarcophagi represent consular pompae, from the décor (depicting two togate magistrates) and some inscriptions. The relief type belongs to a wider tradition of ‘consular’ sarcophagi popular in Italy. We might go so far as to suggest that the depictions represent the traditional January pompae circenses associated with the consular games, held immediately after inauguration day. However, a good number, and perhaps almost all, 4th c. consular games were held in imperial residences outside of Rome. It is possible that the depictions represent the processions of some praetors, who held spectacular games, in the absence of consuls, or of suffect consuls who presided over the games of the Natalis Urbis.110 Unfortunately, we can say nothing concerning the route of any circus procession at this time, beyond that it likely used the main avenues, as seen on the Aquileia depiction, where a portico is visible in the background. Nor is it possible to speculate on the reaction of the crowd, who may not have been universally pleased to see such a parade of pagan divine images coming along the street. Beyond the end of the 4th c. it is not possible to confirm the survival of the ritual in Rome. A vague allusion made in Macrobius’ Saturnalia (early 5th c.), to a circus procession where statues of the gods are carried in procession on fercula, is not enough to prove that the tradition reached into this century. A suggestive reference from the writings of Peter Chrysologus, bishop of Ravenna in the mid 5th c., is probably best ignored. He criticises Christians for participating in a Kalends procession that involved ‘carrying’ divine images. But, in another of his sermons on the same festival, it seems that he is concerned with the wearing of masks of the old gods, not 110  Consular sarcophagi: Borg (2013) 186–91. For consular games outside of Rome, see Cameron (2013) 194–207. For suffect consuls and the Natalis Urbis: see Symm. Ep. 6.40. Games for this festival until AD 444: Prosper of Aquitaine Epitoma Chronicon 1353 (Anno 444).

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figure C2b

Consular parade in a chariot: opus sectile mosaic from basilica of consul Junius Bassus, who died in AD 359

with the display of statues. Entertainments are also not clearly mentioned in connection with the Ravenna parade: thus, it seems likely to be a simple New Year street procession, not connected to the circus or theatre. Given the growth of ecclesiastical criticism of public entertainments, the lack of any specific references to parades of pagan images within circuses in the 5th c. suggests that the tradition had died out by this time.111 The procession at Constantinople of Constantine’s image was one in which the fercula carrying statues of non-imperial gods appear to be absent. This suggests that the tradition was not strong enough to withstand transplantation to the new capital without substantial modification. Given the increasingly inappropriate imagery presented by the older pompae circenses, it is unsurprising to see evidence of other processional forms associated with consular games. There were parades for consuls which involved riding in a chariot rather than a carpentum, with no suggestion of a parade of divine images. We can confirm a consular procession in a chariot from the mosaic of Junius Annius Bassus (consul 331) and for a suffect consul for 401, who fell out of his chariot whilst processing with an embroidered toga and insignia, 111  Portable floats with statues of the gods, in Italy: in Macrobius Saturnalia 1.23.13; for Ravenna see n. 313.

during the Natalis Urbis on 21 April.112 In this case, we know the holiday involved games over which the consuls presided. The Bassus mosaic (fig. C2b) is explicit in its imagery. It shows the consul in a chariot drawn by two white horses, followed by four horsemen who are dressed for a race and carry what appear to be polo nets. They are likely to be circus performers in the consular games. Even so, we should not try to recognise in them the noble cavalry cadets who led consular pompae circenses under the Republic. Rather, the figures on the Bassus mosaic wear the colours of the circus factions, suggesting that they are professional sportsmen. One might ask if this chariot parade represented a new procession, or simply part of an older one. Although consuls had been using chariots for some public movements since the Late Republic, they were very strongly associated with them in the minds of late antique writers, who were conscious of the status that the vehicle bestowed.113 Coins of 4th c. date suggest that this associ112  Consular entertainment processions in a chariot, without tensae: for Junius Bassus (consul, AD 331): mosaic in Dunbabin (1982) 71; for suffect consul: Symmachus Ep. 6.40 (AD 401). 113  Consuls and chariots, in texts: e.g. in late 4th c. Cple: Claud. in Ruf. 2.82; Asterius Amas. Hom. 4 (PG 40.224) (on Rufinus as consul of AD 392) ‘aforetime riding in his chariot (δίφρου) he used to exult in his dignity’. They are attested earlier for

174 ation probably comes from their use in opening consular games. Gold medallions of Constantine / Constantius II (consuls in 326), are the first to show a sparsio of actual coins being thrown from a chariot, probably using a medallion of this type. Later we have a consular medallion of Constantius II alone, in which not only a bag of coins but also circus prizes are shown along with the chariot, a design repeated for medallions of Valentian I, II and Eugenius. These latter depictions suggest that the imperial consuls were undertaking their sparsio in the circus, an act that we see for example in the consular calendar of 354 (from the imperial box of the Hippodrome). Thus, these depictions probably represent a consular circus parade. Admittedly, a medallion of Gordian II shows the emperor in a chariot in the circus, when games were taking place.114 This raises the chance that Bassus’ chariot parade evolved from the pompa circensis, perhaps as a later act within it. It is also possible that this style of procession was inaugurated by Constantine in a break from the past, as his medallions suggest. One might even suggest that a new tradition was inaugurated by the chariot procession of his gilded statue for the foundation celebration of the eastern capital, where a parade of divine images might have been inappropriate.115 a consul in a procession on the Philoppapus monument in Athens of AD 114–16, with lictors but not ferculae: Stern (1953) 161. A reference to a consul in 168 BC using a chariot in the circus to read a victory bulletin, is connected neither to inaugural games, nor is it part of a procession: Livy 45.1. 114  Consular parades on medallions: medallion of Constantine (in consular robes on chariot, scattering coins): Bruun (1966) 628–29, with plate 21 (Nicomedia nos. 164, 170), Toynbee (1944) 40, pls. 2.15,16; medallion of Constantius II, when Caesar (in same form, with eagle sceptre): Bellinger (1958) 145, no. 28, fig. 28; Toynbee (1944) 40, 88–89, pl. 4.3; both medallions being for AD 326, though I do not understand why the former cannot be an earlier consulship. For Constantius II (of which the consular year is not known) with circus prizes and bag for coins: see Cameron (1973) 19–23 with pl. 31.3, plus Stern (1953) 153, 156–57 for references to use of design by subsequent emperor, with Toynbee (1944) 40 n. 135, pls. 3.1–3. Constantine medallion of 326/29, as first sparsio from a chariot depicted: Stern (1953) 156. We cannot be certain of a consular circus procession in a chariot before the time of Constantine: the consular chariot image occurs on coins from the AD 140s but without indications of sparsio, which is what ties it to an inauguration procession rather than just an adventus in consular dress: Stern (1953) 158, with pl. 31.4. The emperor Gordian is shown on a bronze medallion in a chariot in the circus, whilst chariot racing was going on, and one of Philip shows a victory chariot and soldiers but not any distinct dress or sparsio: Alföldi (1934) 93–100, figs. 4–5; Hölscher (1967) 84–90; Stern (1953) pl. 31.7. 115  The idea of a Middle Imperial pompa circensis, associated to the processus consularis in a chariot in some publications is a misnomer: Mittag (2009) 450–51, including bibliography, demonstrates that it ultimately relies on the interpretation of one coin of Maxentius (RIC 6 378 no. 215–17) showing the emperor in a quadriga alongside the legend ‘Fel Process-Cons’, a legend which actually occurs alongside a range of different

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In this form, it is easier to see how circus parades by consuls continued into the 6th c. In Justinian’s Constantinople, we hear that six out of seven annual consular processions led to entertainments (circus races, theatre plays, wild beast hunts etc.), in most cases to the buildings which housed each show.116 This edict does not indicate if the consul paraded in a chariot, but a consular medallion of Tiberius II / Maurice in a chariot again shows a sparsio with coins and circus prizes. The law also does not reveal if the consul was followed by performers, as was Bassus. However, within the Hippodrome itself, parades of performers did survive for these games. Two consular diptychs of Anastasius include what seems to be a circus parade of performers on their lower register: actors and actresses participate, whilst horses dressed with plumes, patterned shouldertrappings and bound tails are led along by amazons who hold poles bearing plaques. Two of these plaques are visibly decorated with crosses, but might have in the other cases held the name of an animal, or a human performer, as they did in consular or punishment processions. Aspects of the architecture, especially the metal railings seen on another depiction, suggest these parades took place inside the Hippodrome at Constantinople. But it is still possible that some parades also led into the building from the street, accompanied by the consul, as patron of the games.117 Evidence for very different circus parades comes from three eastern provincial capitals, where civic magistrates and especially governors, co-ordinated entertainments. At Caesarea in Palestine, under Diocletian, a Christian was paraded in the ‘Stadium’ with a plaque of identification carried before him prior to his damnatio ad bestias, suggesting that parades might act as

images on coins of the same ruler without any chariot (RIC 6 372 nos. 167–69, 374 no. 179). Thus, I do not take this piece of evidence up, as does Latham (2016) 1970–98 with fig. 59. I take other consular medallions of the period with elephants drawing chariots holding emperors as representing triumphal parades, not consular circus parades. 116  Consular entertainment procession, at Cple: Just. Nov. 105 (AD 537). On medallions of Tiberius II and Maurice: see n. 101, with remark that Heraclius did not process in a chariot, having abolished the consulship: n. 88. Note that Nov. 105.1 does state that there was sparsio during the seven consular processions, even if it does not specify which. 117  Parades of performers at Cple: on diptychs of Anastasius (consul AD 492, 497, 507): Volbach (1976) no. 18 (London, Victoria and Albert Museum), 19 (Leningrad, Hermitage Museum), 20 (Verona, Biblioteca Capitolare), 21 (Paris Bibliothéque nationale); Olovsdotter (2005) 47–54 no. 11a–d with pl. 11:1–3. Only the London diptych shows crosses in the plaques carried by the amazons. Similar railings, to those in the centre of the parade, seem to appear on the base of the Obelisk of Theodosius, depicting the Hippodrome.

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a preview of entertainment.118 At Antioch, speaking in 387, Chrysostom recalled an agônothetès (an organiser of public games) with a crown on his head, robed, and carrying a baton, marching through the agora; he led the procession, which passed off in good order, thanks to the silence imposed by the cry of a herald. At Oxyrhynchus, in the 6th c., a procession (pompè) was included within a mixed circus programme, clearly designated as an act, coming after the first chariot race. It also seems that a parade of statues of victories (but not other deities) within the circus may have opened the whole event, as ‘victories’ (nikai) headed the programme.119 Certainly, such parades would have been ideal occasions for sporting stars and dancers to revel in popular applause, and would have provided presiding magistrates with an opportunity to garner favourable acclamations. In the 6th c. example, we again cannon confirm that the parade occurred in the streets, rather than just round the hippodrome, but a processional form did at least survive. A literary insight into the impact of street processions of theatre performers comes from the Life of St. Pelagia the Harlot, a retelling (of 6th c. date?) of a mid 4th c. event, which survives in several translations with interesting variants. It contains a scene, set in Antioch, which evokes something of the tensions existing between the popularity of entertainers and the activities of churches. In the Syriac version, Pelagia, the city’s leading actress, passed in front of the Church of St. Julian. She was seated on a donkey decorated with bells and a cloth cover, accompanied by her suite. The Latin version adds that her head was exposed, and that she seemed to be clothed in nothing but gold and pearls, accompanied by male and female slaves, some preceding, some following her, wearing costly garments and torcs of gold. The Syriac version notes that her hands and feet were adorned with armbands, silks, and anklets, decorated by strings of pendants and pearls. In the second text, the male and female slaves wore golden girdles and jewellery round their necks. In both versions, the beauty of 118  Plaques advertising participants: for prisoners, see next note; for horses, see previous note; for consular procession: see Claud. de cos. Stil. 3.369–71 (Milan). 119   Parade of performers in provincial capitals: at Caesarea Palestinae (AD 306, 4th year of persecution, when Urbanus was governor of Palestine I): Euseb. Mart. Pal. ‘The confession of Agapius’ (in ‘augmented’ Syriac version, complete by AD 441) with parade around the stadium with plaque before him, with the word ‘Christian’ on it; Euseb. Mart. Pal. 6.4 (Greek version) which has him paraded around the stadium with a wrongdoer; at Antioch (likely place based on magistrate, sometime between 381–97): Joh. Chrys. de Baptismo Christi (PG 49.370), with thanks to C. Saliou, with Bautz (1990c); at Oxyrhynchus: P. Oxy. 34.2707 (?6th c., as the programme begins with a Chi-Rho), which can be viewed on http://papyri. info/ddbdp/p.oxy;34;2707 (last accessed May 2014).

175 the actress, set within a cloud of perfumes, greatly excited the crowd and greatly annoyed the bishops present. This event does not seem to have been a procession for a specific festival, just a daily street movement. The complex history of this text’s transmission makes it difficult to assert the historicity of its descriptions, in what is already a literary text, but it does provide an idea of the impact that the progress of noted entertainers might have, especially in relation to ecclesiastical attempts to influence public space, during festivals and at other times.120 ‘Triumphs’ and Victory Celebrations The public representation of victory remained important to imperial image-making, as M. McCormick has demonstrated, sometimes in apparently inverse proportion to the success of Roman troops.121 The holding of designated triumphs continued, even as the frequency and nature of celebrations changed. This is understandable: there was perhaps no better way to reassure the public or to humiliate a foe than through dragging an enemy past the crowds of a capital city, before proskynèsis (prostration) and execution, amidst a display of spoils. But the triumph also seems to have been an important ritual for conservatives to preserve or to recreate for cultural reasons. It was a distinctively Roman celebration, so to hold a triumph was to participate in the tradition of the empire. We famously hear of the ‘triumph’ accorded to Belisarius in 534, of which a detailed account survives: the general walked from his house to the Hippodrome, where he made obeisance to Justinian in front of the crowd. On this occasion, the captive Vandal king, who had presumably also been paraded, was stripped of his regalia and prostrated before the emperor in the Hippodrome. The parade of Belisarius was recognised by Procopius as anachronistic, likely designed by the classicising magister officiorum Tribonian to reinforce the ‘restored Roman’ character of Justinian’s regime. The fact that Belisarius walked, rather than rode in a chariot, would have marked this out, for the learned, as a triumph different to those of historical literature. There is thus a legitimate question as to whether an ‘authentic’ triumph survived into Late Antiquity, although

120  Actress in the street with her suite, at Antioch: Life of St. Pelagia the Harlot 4–6 (Latin version has puerorum vel puellarum for her suite). I am not able to read the Syriac. 121  Triumph in Late Antiquity: McCormick (1986), who points out on p. 78 that they were especially popular in the 150 years following Constantine’s succession, when 27 are recorded, in comparison to 8 known in the previous 150 years; see also Beard (2007), focusing mainly on the earlier centuries.

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it should not stop us from studying street victory celebrations of the period on their own terms.122 Many ‘triumphs’ of the period seem to have been merely elaborations of the imperial adventus into Rome or Constantinople. Ammianus described Constantius II’s processional entry into Rome in 357 as a ‘triumph’, whilst Honorius’ visit to Rome in 404, was also credited as a ‘triumph’ on an arch in the city. These ceremonies might be better called by us as ‘triumphal entries’: an adventus with soldiers, and, if possible, both booty and captives. In this way, Chrysostom imagined the Second Coming of Christ with the trappings of a triumph, with prisoners and trophies, although it is described as an entry into ‘any city’, not a designated festival in an imperial capital. Justinian entered Constantinople in 559, processed down the Mese and received an acclamation ‘as if in triumph’. But Justinian had (apparently) come without prisoners or booty and had ignored the ‘correct route’ for a triumph, according to the Book of Ceremonies (likely here written by Peter the Patrician).123 Arguably, victory had been so strongly assimilated to the imperial persona that the distinctiveness of the triumph as a recognisable urban occasion had been eroded; now any imperial entry following military success could be called a triumph. It feels that the adventus rather than the triumph had become the dominant element on these occasions. There is little evidence for ‘triumphal costume’ in Late Antiquity, let alone the features of Late Republican / Early Imperial celebrations which M. Beard has recently sought to deconstruct, such as the general’s iron ring or the slave who whispered words of humility in his ear.124

Nevertheless, there were some triumphal processions of the late 3rd to early 5th c. that seem to have been distinctive occasions, as they had been in earlier centuries, which perhaps deserve the label of ‘triumph’. Thus, Constantine paraded within Rome not immediately on winning the Battle of the Milvian Bridge in 312, but the day after, although the procession was described at the time as both an adventus and a triumph. Constantius II’s victory parade at Antioch in 343 involved not only the parade of captives but also the dispatch of official victory bulletins and was attended by bishops from all around the eastern empire. Our evidence is somewhat more problematic for the tetrarchs, but we have some clues. The final triumph of Diocletian and Maximian at Rome, prior to their retirement, included captives, and 13 elephants. Eutropius, whose account is difficult to reconcile with other sources, makes the occasion sound as distinctive as a Republican triumphal parade, being the final lap of honour for two distinguished magistrates. This is perhaps the same triumph as shown on a terracotta stamp found in Olbia, with both emperors, drawn on a carpentum by four elephants, triumphing over captives with conical hats and Phrygian caps (fig. C3a).125 Another triumph, perhaps set in Antioch, is suggested by a medallion issued in 287, which shows Diocletian and Maximian on a chariot drawn by elephants. Although the medallions mark their consulship (on the obverse), the imperial pair are shown (on the reverse) in their chariot (fig. C3b), overflown by Victory, who holds a wreath above them. They are flanked by palm-waving crowds, suggesting a specific triumphal event.126 The

122  Triumph as re-invention?: at Cple, of Belisarius (AD 534): Procop. Vand. 2.9. Tribonian’s authorship (as magister officiorum at this time): McCormick (1986) 129; PLRE 3.1335–39 Tribonianus 1. 123  Triumph as adventus: Constantius II (at Rome, AD 357): Amm. Marc. 16.10.1 (‘to celebrate, without a title, a triumph over Roman blood’); Honorius (at Rome): Claud. de VI cos. Hon. 616; Christ’s Second Coming with imagery of a triumphal entry: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Phil. 13 (PG 62.281). See also: Proclus Or. 9.1 (PG 65.773); ‘non-triumph’ of Justinian in AD 559 entering Cple without prisoners or booty, though receiving an acclamation as if in triumph: Imp. Exp. R497/HC696 (AD 559); Mango C. (2000) 174. 124  Dress of the triumphator not standardised: Diocletian and Maximian are shown either in pallia / himatia or togas (consular robes) or on their medallion of AD 287 (see n. 126 below); the general (probably PLRE 1.372–73 Flavius Fravitta) on the Louvre drawings of the Column of Arcadius (see McCormick (1986) 52–53, figs. 2–3) wears a military cloak over armour, which seems, from diptychs and coins, also to be the most common representation of the victorious emperor in the period. For triumphal processions of the Republic and Early Empire see Beard (2007), who discusses dress on 87–88, 228– 33 and the connection of adventus and triumph on 324–35.

125  Triumphs as distinctive events: Constantine at Rome, (AD 312), day after battle, Calendar of A.D. 354 October (28th and 29th), with McCormick (1986) 84 on its recognition as both an adventus and a triumph. For accounts of the triumph see: Pan. Lat. 12(9).18.3–19.4 and 4(10).30.4–32.3; Constantius II at Antioch: Theophanes A.M. 5834 (date AD 341/42 in Mango and Scott (1997) edn., but actually for a victory of 343). Victory bulletins: Ath. Hist. Ar. 16.2 (causing bishops to attend); Lib. Or. 59.84 (parade of captives); McCormick (1986) 39. Diocletian and Maximian at Rome (AD 303): Eutr. 9.27.2, Chronicle of A.D. 354 under Diocletian and Maximian (MGH AA 9.148) on which see Beard (2007) 325. There is controversy over whether Theodosius paraded at Rome in AD 389 after defeating Maximus, although he did visit: McCormick (1986) 45–46 n. 47, who strangely does not address the testimony of Pan. Lat. 12.47.3, describing the procession of the imperial chariot preceded by fercula which might have carried spoils. See below for triumphs of generals in n. 132, parades of captives without other indications of triumph in nn. 142, 144 and 145, and indication of triumph of Diocletian / Galerius at Antioch and Constantine and Constantius II in Rome in next note. 126   Triumphators on elephant quadrigae, on coins / medallions: Diocletian and Maximian (AD 287): medallion showing them on a chariot pulled by four elephants, surrounded by soldiers carrying spears / palms, with chests exposed and

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figure c3a

Victory parade: ?Tetrarchic medallion from Olbia, Diocletian’s consular medallion of 287

representation confirms a remark by Lactantius that Diocletian triumphed with elephants, in the style of Pompey the Great, who had also beaten an eastern foe.127 It is possible that the elephantine tetrapylon at Antioch, which formed the entrance to the tetrarchic palace, was built to frame a triumph here in 287 for Diocletian’s successful dealings with Persia, just as the Palace Arch at Thessalonica recalled the victories of Galerius, over the same enemy.128 The use of elephant to pull imperial perhaps wearing a pallium / himation (as do the Tetrarchs at Luxor in Kalavrezou-Maxeiner (1975) 244–45), with one carrying a sceptre and statue, the other a standard: Bernhart (1926) pl. 81.7; Toynbee (1944) 51–52 (not seen); Constantine (AD 326), in consular dress with lictors / palm carriers, accompanied by Victory, who crowns him with a wreath: Toynbee (1944) 89, plate 4.3; note also Constantine (AD 326) in consular robes with Constantius II as Caesar in chariot with elephants: Bellinger (1958) 144. This may commemorate, as part of Constantine’s Vicennalia, a hypothetical victory over barbarians in 325, perhaps on the Danube when Constantine was passing through this area. Constantius II Augustus as consul, alone in a chariot without elephants, with Victories: Stern (1953) 157, pl. 29.1. 127  Triumphators on elephant quadrigae, in texts: Diocletian: Lactant. De mortibus persecutorum 16.6; Aurelian?: SHA Aurel. 33, discussed by Beard (2007) 392–93 n. 66, with reference to ‘deer’ (cervis, Greek ἔλαφος) pulling his chariot, often thought to be a misspelling of elephants (ἐλέφας) in a Greek source. If not historic, this might reflect later 3rd–4th c. practice; Pompey: Granius Licinianus 36.3–4; Plin. HN 8.4; Plut. Pomp. 14.4; Beard (2007) 17, 315–18. 128  Elephant quadrigae on triumphal arches: at Antioch: Malalas 13.19 with Amm. Marc. 22.14.2 (Julian Misopogon published here in AD 363); at Rome, such decoration had been used in arches since the 1st c. AD (see Beard (2007) 236), one of which was restored in the 6th c. (Cassiod. Var. 10.30); at Cple, n.b. elephant statue close to (but not on) the Milion: Parastaseis

figure c3b

Victory parade: Diocletian’s consular medallion of 287

chariots had some precedents in the Early Imperial period, but their use in triumphs seem to have been very rare, with Diocletian reviving Pompey’s imagery, likely to evoke a conquest of the East.129 Other late emperors may have done the same: Theodosius I was given ‘triumphal animals’ by Shapur III in AD 384, according to his panegyrist Pacatus. These were likely been commemorated by an elephant quadriga on the Golden Gate at Constantinople, which Cedrenus believed recalled the same emperor (‘Theodosius’), who had driven elephants into the city. The Gate seems to have been erected to celebrate Theodosius’ victory over Maximus in 388, but the elephants might have been driven through it on another occasion.130 The triumphal entry of Theodosius I into Rome in 389, for the same victory, as evoked by Claudian, also seems to be quite distinct from adventus ceremonies of the period. We can note the heightened display of weaponry (unsheathed swords as well as, javelins, pikes and bows) carried by the plumed soldiers, who sang the victor’s praises in their own (Germanic) language. 17 and Patria 41 with Mango (1959) 79–80 suggesting a parallel with Antioch. 129  Elephant use, earlier: quadrigae on New Year coins issued after this date, e.g. Bruun (1966) 207–208, plate 5, Trier 468, 469. For imperial events involving elephants, but not a triumphal entry, see Mattingly (1928) 201. For a coin of Augustus with biga of elephants: RIC 1 301; Nero and Agrippina Junior with quadriga of elephants RIC 1 6; coin of Mytilene for Tiberius in a cart drawn by elephants: RPC 1 2343; Trajan with quadriga on provincial Egyptian coin: Geissen (1974–83) 554. On deification ceremonies, when elephants pulled the cart carrying the imperial image, see n. 108. 130  Golden gate elephants: see appendix F7a.

178 Furthermore, Theodosius also rode in a chariot decorated by a ‘laurel branch’. These elements recall a cameo of Licinius, now in Paris, which has many such features considered to represent a specific triumph rather than simply evoke triumphal images: the emperor rides over his defeated enemies in a quadriga in which he is crowned by Victories, flanked by others, who carry a trophy and a military standard.131 Finally, it is notable that the triumphal entrance depicted on the column of Theodosius, which shows both trophies and captives, involved a general, rather than an emperor. A satirical description by Claudian, from the same emperor’s reign, alludes to a triumph undertaken by the court chamberlain Eutropius. Either event would have required clear imperial sanction, as a spontaneous entry into the capital with soldiers would have seemed like a bid for the throne.132 All of these features suggest the survival of the triumph as a distinctive public parade rather than an adventus with triumphal attributes, at least in the 4th or early 5th c. This is not to say that the ‘triumph’ had the constitutional significance it had earlier, or that it had any canonical rites. But a distinctive triumphal procession did exist, for at least the first half of the late antique period. Whether this represents the survival, or a reinvention, of the parade seen in earlier centuries is not certain. We can find evidence from Rome and Constantinople that routes of triumphs were well-defined; according to Chrysostom they were decorated with wreaths / garlands.133 But the positions of triumphal monuments allow us to be more specific. Constantine’s own honorific arch had been set on an early section of the traditional triumphal route in Rome. Yet, we have no record of him or any subsequent emperors following the Via Sacra to its natural terminus: a sacrifice on the Capitol, which had been the object of Maximian’s entry into the city as late as 307, although on that occasion there was nothing especially ‘triumphal’ to celebrate. The siting of the second ‘Arch of Constantine’ (a tetrapylon 131  Other triumphal imagery: for Theodosius at Rome in AD 389: Claud. de III cos. Hon. 130–37, with dating discussion in McCormick (1986) 44 n. 40; for Licinius (reigned AD 308–24): Künzl (1988) 113, n. 94 (Paris bibliotheque Nationale). 132  Triumphs of non-imperial leaders: a general (probably PLRE 1.372–73 Flavius Fravitta) at Cple, ca. 400–401, on the Louvre depiction of the Column of Arcadius: see McCormick (1986) 49–50, 52–53, figs. 2–3; a court chamberlain at Cple, ca. 397/398 (PLRE 2.440–44 Eutropius 1): Claud. in Eutrop. 1.252–58, which may never have happened, as we have no references to it outside of this satirical description. The word triumphus is not used, rather E.’s victorious marching is preceded by (eunuch) soldiers with standards, met by his clients. See above n. 122 for Belisarius. 133   Route of triumph decorated (with wreaths / garlands ἐστεφανωμένην): Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Phil. 13 (PG 62.281).

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named for the Arcus Divi Constantini in the Notitia Urbis Romae for region XI), between the Forum and the Forum Boarium, may reflect a re-routing of the triumphal parade, to avoid the Capitol. A reference to the Sacred Way in Claudian’s account of Honorius’ arrival seems only to denote the immediate use of the street to pass from the Senate to the Palace: it is used vaguely at the end of a description, as if it had symbolic rather than geographical importance in the narrative. There is no sense that it was used to reach the Capitol.134 More strikingly, the Arch of Honorius, following a precedent set by an arch of Gratian, Valentinian II, and Theodosius I, was placed on a route to the Vatican, on the far side of the Tiber, as if the old sacred route had been superseded in favour of one centred on St. Peter’s.135 In Constantinople, the recorded use of colonnaded streets for triumphal entries is unremarkable. It would have been normal to follow them in any adventus. However, as Mango has noted, the linear siting of victory monuments, on major avenues, suggests that a preferred route for such parades was set, first by Constantine, from the north, and then by the Theodosian dynasty, via the Golden Gate, which was the largest victory arch in the Roman Empire. We have only one late antique attestation that this route was actually used for an imperial triumphal entry, though the Book of Ceremonies implies that the Golden Gate was still the correct entry point for such events in the time of Justinian.136 The presence outside palaces of triumphal arches (tetrapyla actually) at Thessalonica, Antioch, and at Constantinople (for Anastasius, then Justinian), as described above, may indicate that some victory processions ended inside the palace.137 Yet, at Constantinople, this choice of monument may have been little more than inertia, the expression of a desire to retain the form of what seemed ‘palatial’, as established by the Tetrarchy. The evidence suggests that two alternative termini existed, arguably 134  Route of triumph within Rome: Republic and Early Empire: see Beard (2007) 96–105; Maxentius (AD 307): Pan. Lat. 7(6).8.6–9; Honorius route and reference to Via Sacra: Claud. de VI cos. Hon. 635. 135  New route?: Arch of Honorius, Arcadius, and Theodosius II (AD 402–408) close to St. Peter’s ‘ad perenne indicium triumph(orum)’: see appendix F7a. Arch of Gratian, Val. II, and Theodosius (AD 379–83): see appendix F7a. 136  Route of triumphal entries at Cple: see McCormick (1986) index entry on ‘Mese’ for the use of colonnaded streets, and Mango C. (2000) for the placing of victory monuments. Whilst Middle Byzantine documentation is strong, late antique attestations of use are restricted to a remark in Imp. Exp. R497/ HC696 (AD 559) on a victorious entry of Justinian in AD 559 that used the Charisos Gate rather than the Golden Gate, as was correct for a triumph, before going down the Mese, from the Capitol to the Great Palace. 137  Triumphal arches outside palaces: see the section on tetrapyla in the chapter on streets and appendix F3 and F7a.

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better attuned to the participatory politics of royal spectacle. For the eastern capital, where we have detailed accounts, victory parades finished in the Hippodrome. This was now where military victory was really celebrated, benefitting from associated metaphors of sporting victory, as much as from proximity to the Palace or from seating provision. M. McCormick has noted that in the 4th c. the hippodrome, rather than the street, came to dominate as the privileged setting of imperial victory celebrations, everywhere outside of Rome: both at Trier as well as at Constantinople.138 Another new terminus came with the introduction of Christian liturgical processions by emperors for victories, which began with Theodosius II in 425, and was followed by Anastasius in 515. Christian liturgical processions of victory naturally had churches as their end point: either a sanctuary within the walls or an extramural shrine. However, it is far easier to class these events as Christian processions of thanksgiving than as triumphs, as none of the traditional elements were present.139 It seems that by the early 5th c. other ceremonial forms, which had their own ritual geography, were taking over from the ‘triumph’ in the public representation of victory. The parade of captives was one of the most important elements in a traditional triumph which continued in Late Antiquity. It is depicted on the triumphal entry recorded on the Louvre drawings of the Column of Theodosius (fig. C4) and is known for 4th and early 5th c. triumphs in Rome. Such a parade of captives also took place during both Belisarius’ victory procession, and at Justinian II’s restoration ceremony in the early 8th c., when defeated rulers were thus displayed. Victory celebrations without imperial participation might also feature prisoners: Symmachus organised a 138   Victory celebrations ending in Hippodrome: Belisarius’ (AD 534) (Procop. Vand. 2.9.15–16); Anastasius’ procession of Longinus and Indes, (AD 498) (Evagr. Hist. eccl. 3.35, Priscian Pan. 171–79, Marcell. com. AD 498.2), with PLRE 2.688 Longinius of Selinus 4; PLRE 2.688–89 Indes; Zeno’s procession of heads of Illus and Leontius, (AD 488): Malalas 15.14, Marcell. com. AD 488.1, note in Jeffrey’s translation (detail comes from Slavic and other versions), with PLRE 2.586–90 Illus 1; PLRE 2.670–71 Leontivs 17. Victory celebrations in Hippodrome: McCormick (1986) 59–60, 91–100. 139  Christian processions to churches for victories: Theodosius II to church (likely St. Sophia but not specified): Socrates Hist. eccl. 7.23 (AD 425 on defeat of usurper John: PLRE 2.594–95 Iohannes 6); Anastasius, to extramural church of St. Michael the Archangel at Sosthenion (Malalas 16.16), where Vitalian had been encamped, after naval victory over his forces (dated by Marcell. com. AD 515); Justinian visited the Holy Apostles in AD 559, as part of the triumphal entry by Justinian, but with the intention of praying for Theodora: Imp. Exp. R497 / HC696 (AD 559).

179 procession of captives at Rome, to honour a victory in 384, whilst Anastasius had his enemies Longinus and Indes led in chains down the streets of the eastern capital in 498, before they were prostrated before him in the Hippodrome. Honorius was able to exhibit captives as part of his tricennalia in AD 422, probably at Ravenna, when the usurpers Maximus and Jovinus paraded in irons: ‘ducti sunt in pompa ferro’. The 11th c. manuscript of the Annals of Ravenna, which records this event, illustrates the year with an armed soldier leading two prisoners by a cord, with hands tied behind the back, in the same way that prisoners are shown on the Column of Theodosius, which seems to have been the standard way to present captives to the public.140 The presence of booty taken from the captives was a related part of this display, being attested for the cortege of the general on the Theodosian column (shields and spears), implied for that of the eunuch Eutropius, and described in detail by Procopius for Belisarius. The latter exhibited the imperial treasures captured by the Vandals in 455, which included what were believed to be the temple treasures taken by Titus from Jerusalem in 70, along with golden thrones, carriages, jewellery, and gold vessels from the defeated king’s table.141 It is far from certain that such spoils were displayed in most victory parades: they are not often described. For the triumph of Diocletian and Maximian in Rome, the historian Eutropius mentions the carrying of litters ( ferculi). These may have transported booty and captives, as can be confirmed by the stamp recently recovered from Olbia which seems to depict Diocletian and Maximian in triumph pulled by elephants, preceded by 140  Parade of captives, (at Cple) with ‘Fravitta’: see fig. C4 and other images in same cycle; with Belisarius: Proc. Vand. 2.9 (AD 534); with Justinian II: Theophanes A.M. 6198 (date AD 705/706 from Mango and Scott (1997) edn.); under Anastasius, paraded in chains (AD 498): Priscian Pan. 171–79 (only seen in translation), which were attached both to the neck and hands in Evagr. Hist. eccl. 3.35; (at Rome) by Symmachus: Relat. 47.1, who calls the parade a spectaculo triumphali (AD 384); (at Ravenna probably) by Honorius as part of tricennalia in AD 422: Annals of Ravenna (AD 422), with commentary in the edition on hand-tying, Marcell. com. (AD 422), with PLRE 2.745 Maximus 7, 2.622 Iovinus 3. For a mid 6th c. vision of a demon prisoner being led in this manner to the column of St. Symeon the Younger near Antioch, by the same saint: V. Sym. Jun. 158 (edn. van den Ven (1962–70) 139–41) (when trying to take down image of the saint), 224 (edn. van den Ven (1962–70) 194–96) (when denounced by the saint), 231 (edn. van den Ven (1962–70) 204–208) (in the vision of a sick boy). 141  Booty: Column of Theodosius: see fig. C4 with McCormick (1986) 50; Eutropius: Claud. in Eutrop. 2.228–29; Belisarius: Procop. Vand. 2.9.4. For parades of spoils in victory displays in hippodrome or palace in Late Antiquity and later, see McCormick (1986) index entry on ‘booty’.

180

figure c4

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Punishment Parade: parade on camels from the Column of Theodosius I (after 16th c. drawings by F. Battista, Musée du Louvre, inv. 4951) Photos (C) RMN-Grand Palais (musée du Louvre) / Jean-Gilles Berizzi

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senators, followed by cavalrymen holding flags. They were accompanied by disconsolate captives, though displayed on carts, not litters.142 Litters could also have carried painted images of the campaign, as were known in earlier triumphs. Such panels existed in Late Antiquity: a narrative sequence of painted images describing the victory over Gainas was displayed in the stadion of (?New) Rome. Painted panels of Roman victory scenes were also seen by Attila at Milan, if the Suda can be believed. Either of these would have been suitable for display in a triumphal procession.143 A parade of captives could equally be enacted on less formal occasions: Sigeric, king of the Visigoths, made former queen Galla Placidia and other prisoners walk before his horse for twelve miles when coming out of the city of Barcelona in 415. It seems that everyone understood that to parade in front of a dignitary was to acknowledge low status: Diocletian had humiliated Galerius, upon the latter’s defeat by the Persians, when he made him run in front (or after) his imperial chariot, when entering Antioch in 300/301. Eutropius tells us (contradicting other evidence) that the wives, children, and sisters of the Persian king were made to walk before the chariots of Diocletian and Maximian at Rome in 303, as was the usurper Priscus Attalus before the chariot of Honorius in the same city in 416. Honorius exceptionally excused the Senate from parading before him as part of his adventus into Rome, reversing the usual logic, in a show of civility.144 Nevertheless, an absolute sequence of precedence (low to high) might not always have been used: high-status prisoners follow the general in the Louvre drawings of the Column of Theodosius, with lesser captives further ahead, whilst the Comes Avitianus, entering Tours during the time of St. Martin,

142  Litters: Diocletian and Maximian: Eutr. 9.27.2 (at Rome), with Beard (2007) 325; Olbia medallion: Gualandi and Pinelli (2012) 11 figs. 1–2. 143  Painted images displayed: Fravitta: Eunap. Hist. Frag. 78 (at Rome or Cple) (Blockley Frag. 68), with McCormick (1986) 96 and 118 n. 167, but Cameron and Long (1993) 218–23 for a different interpretation, and further references; Theodosius II?: seen by Attila at Milan (paintings implied): Suda ‘Kappa’ 2123 (κόρυκος). For painted images displayed earlier in Roman triumphs see: Beard (2007) 7, 13, 32, 42, 81, 124, 145, 150, 183. 144  Walking before the commander’s horse / chariot, as indicating low / lower status: Galla Placidia (at Barcelona): Olymp. frag. 26, on death of PLRE 2.176–78 Athaulfus in AD 415; Galerius (at Antioch): Eutr. 9.24 (actually running behind the vehicle); Theophanes A.M. 5793 (date AD 300/301 from Mango and Scott (1997) edn.) (leading in front of the carriage: προηγεῖσθαι το̄υ ὀχήματος); Persian captives (at Rome, AD 303): Eutr. 9.27.2, with other evidence discussed by Beard (2007) 325; Attalus (at Rome): Prosper of Aquitaine Chronicle (AD 417); Senate (at Rome, AD 404): Claud. de VI cons. Hon. 551.

181 had prisoners follow him as ‘rows of people, laden with chains … with melancholy looks’.145 Other Political Processions There were of course daily street movements of officials within the walls of the capital cities of the empire during the 4th to 6th c. We do not hear of emperors risking daily exposure in the street. Rather, their appearances were confined to special occasions. Imperial architects seem to have planned for this: in most late imperial residences / capitals, palaces and circuses were conjoining, and, at Constantinople, corridors existed to facilitate the passage of the emperor around the core area, including between the Great Palace and the Great Church.146 Something of the danger to the emperor represented by street movements can be seen in the triumph of Justinian in 559, recorded in a treatise on imperial expeditions: there was scarcely room for the emperor’s horse to move along the Mese, because of the crowds. This did not prevent emperors taking a calculated risk: elsewhere, we read of Justinian participating in a slow Christian procession sitting in his carriage with the bishop, for the second inauguration of St. Sophia in 562/63, repeating the first inauguration ritual of 537/38. Anastasius felt he had to be accompanied by the Prefect (and probably his men) to prevent attack during processions of prayer. This became customary practice. Maurice and his sons were even stoned by a crowd during a litany to Blachernai, at the end of his reign. But, on these great occasions, contingencies could presumably be taken, more easily than if the emperor had moved through the city on a daily basis.147 The Book of Ceremonies does have a section for the procession of the emperor to the Great Church on ‘very illustrious feasts’, going out of the Chalke into the street. Given the short distance, the same movement may have 145  Prisoners’ position in relation to general: in front ‘Fravitta’ (at Cple): McCormick (1986) 54–55; behind Comes Avitianus (at Tours), possibly PLRE 1.126–77 Claudius Avitianus 2: Sulp. Sev. Dial. 3.4.1. 146   Covered passages for emperors: Palace and Hippodrome conjoining: Humphrey (1986) 579–637, explored in thesis of Brown (2000). Corridors at Cple: Mango (1959) 87–92. 147   Danger of street exposure: Anastasius: Theophanes A.M. 5999 (AD 506/507); Justinian: St. Sophia consecration, from St. Anastasia with Menas the patriarch sitting in the imperial carriage, whilst the emperor joined in the procession with the people (apparently not himself in the carriage): Theophanes A.M. 6030 (AD 537/38 date from Mango and Scott (1997) edn.); triumphal entry: Imp. Exp. R497 / HC696 (AD 559); St. Sophia 2nd inauguration, with patriarch and emperor in carriage from St. Plato’s to the Great Church, as part of a litany with psalms: Theophanes A.M. 6055 (AD 562/63 date from Mango and Scott (1997) edn.); Maurice: Theophanes A.M. 6093 (AD 600/601 date from Mango and Scott (1997) edn.).

182 happened during the 5th–6th c., but this section of the book is not late antique. In contrast, contemporary sources provide very few indications of street movements in the capital by late antique emperors, except on great occasions, such as during consular inaugurations, the adventus of relics, marriages, and funerals, as described above. The world came to the imperial palace, rather than vice versa. The only exception we hear of is a procession by the emperor from the Great Palace to the granaries of the Strategion (adjacent to the northern harbours), in order to inspect the grain stores, which is dated to Late Antiquity on account of the officers mentioned. It was undertaken by the sovereign in his carriage, sitting with the praetorian prefect, accompanied by ‘archons’ on horseback and surrounded by the comites of the palace guard, with the curopalates and a ‘decurion’ holding gold rods, out in front.148 This is the closest we get to a ‘functional’ street movement for the emperor. There probably were some other occasions, although chronicles do not suggest that they were very frequent.149 We certainly cannot assume that imperial street appearances were as common as attested by the Book of Ceremonies for later centuries. Rather, in imperial capitals, we hear of everyday street movements for high officers of state, with their associated dramas. At Constantinople, officials such as the praetorian or urban prefect would visit the Palace on public business, using their chariots of office to go from their praetoria into the imperial residence, and back again in the same manner. This journey was especially important upon the inauguration of magistrates, as is recorded for the appointment of an Augustal Prefect (vicar of Egypt) or proconsul, in the Book of Ceremonies. The new governor came out of the Great Palace, likely displaying his rolled-up codicil (letter of appointment), in the carriage of the praetorian prefect, accompanying the latter to his praetorium, which was probably in the Forum of Leo. A similar journey is recorded for an urban prefect by Malalas. The large number of appointments must have made these appearances a frequent sight. Some urban prefects were attacked in their carriage when passing through the streets in this manner, providing the emperor with an effective means to judge the popularity of his administrators.150 At Carthage, 148   Imperial street journeys: to Great Church: Cer. 1.1; to Strategion: Cer. 2.51. 149  Other imperial movements: from palace to meet the (praetorian) prefect, with emp. walking on foot, as PP leads the Senate towards him. This does not necessitate going further than the Augusteion: Lydus Mag. 2.9. 150  Officials leaving / entering the imperial palace, at Cple, in official carriages: praetorian prefect: PP Arcadius (PLRE 2.131 Arcadius 5) goes to visit emperor Zeno in his carriage, though he stopped outside the Great Church to claim sanctuary, (AD 490): Malalas 15.16; urban prefect: Andreas (PLRE

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Victor of Vita noted a similar culture of official visits to the Vandal palace alluding to ‘those streets and quarters which legates generally pass through, as they go up to the palace and come down’. Other processional journeys might be necessary, from praetorium to law court or other official destination. Agathias’ description of a magistrate surrounded by a crowd of flatterers suggests that processions of high officials remained a daily reality in 6th c. Constantinople.151 In provincial capitals, governors needed to travel from their praetorium to the law courts. They could do this in their state carriages, or on foot accompanied by an escort of officiales, dressed in white (?chlamydes), as is recorded at Edessa in 306/307, and at Antioch in 386. Governors might be escorted by officiales when travelling elsewhere in their metropolis, as at Alexandria in 415. They probably intended to imitate the judicial staff of the praetorian prefect at Constantinople, whose officiales followed him to court ‘in straight files, rank on rank’, with the princeps carrying a rod, in the same manner as the steward of wealthy households led the street processions seen by Ammianus in Rome. We do not know if judges were accompanied in this manner on all journeys into the palace, but it is likely they were. The officiales of civil governors seem to have been unarmed in the street: they are never mentioned as carrying weapons. When a governor was faced a hostile crowd at Alexandria, his retainers simply fled rather than confront them.152 The praetoria of governors were likewise unfortified, much to the disadvantage of governors confronted by angry mobs. This reflects the general nature of provincial government in the later Roman empire, which was, despite gripes about tax and justice, essentially based on consent; much power was dispensed and resisted through 3.76 Andreas 7) installed as urban prefect and came out of the palace through the Chalke, seated in his carriage on the way to the praetorium: Malalas 18.146 (AD 562/63), reconstructed by the edition of Jeffreys and Jeffreys (1986) 304, AD 563 according to them (11th indiction cited by Malalas), but 562/63 according to Theophanes A.M. 6055 (Mango and Scott (1997) edn.); Augustalis or proconsul, going to praetorium of PP: Cer. 1.85. See appendix K1a on Forum of Leo. On attacks on governors’ carriages in Cple see n. 159, below. On codicils see: Grigg (1979); Olvosdotter (2005) 86–88. 151  Officials visiting the palace, at Vandal Carthage: Victor Vit. 3.32 (5.7). Crowds of flatterers: Anth. Graec. 10.64. 152  Governors processing with escort of officiales: at Edessa, by foot, with officiales in white: Martyrdoms of Guria and Shmona, set AD 306/307, based on Macedonian year; at Antioch, by carriage surrounded by torch bearers: Lib. Or. 33.10 with PLRE 1.916–17 Tisamenus (AD 386); at Alexandria, by carriage with officiales: Socrates Hist. eccl. 7.14 with PLRE 2.810–11 Orestes 1 (AD 415); at Cple, praetorian prefect with officiales: Lydus Mag. 3.35.5, 2.19.5 (talking about his time in the mid 6th c.). Wealthy patrons at Rome, with stewards holding a rod organising procession: Amm. Marc. 14.6.16–17.

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social conventions, rather than the routine application of overwhelming force.153 A very different dynamic existed between some Germanic rulers and their subjects. The formulae of the Ostrogothic kingdom allowed an armed retinue for the comes civitatis of Syracuse. The text anticipated that this bodyguard processed with their chief in public. This was a form of protection which the Frankish king Guntram found essential, even in church, to prevent his assassination. Here, the carrying of weapons is highlighted by Gregory of Tours as a distinctive, even ostentatious, part of the appearance of the royal parade.154 It is likely that the processions of Roman governors involved the display of more subtle symbols of authority. Nearly all depictions show judges holding their rolledup codicil of appointment, which contained the emperor’s inviolable signature. They might well have arranged for the officiales to carry other symbols of their imperial commission, such as painted imperial portraits, as they processed to and from the law court. This is suggested by a diptych of the consul Fl. Astyrius, of 449, which shows attendants holding an ivory pyxis (for ink) and an ivory pen-case carved with imperial imagines, all items used when writing judgments handed out in the court. Although this is an audience scene, the pen case is being carried using a cloth. Further, it is not being displayed upright, as it is in the diptych of Probianus, Vicar of Rome ca. 400, and in the Notitia Dignitatum images for prefects and governors, where it is held on a special stand. Rather, it is carried at an angle. This indicates that both the pyxis and the pen case on the Astyrius diptych were about to depart in procession, or had just arrived. For the praetorian prefect, one might imagine that objects carried in procession could include the silver cantharus and crater used for the water clock, all described by John Lydus, as well as legal scrolls, codices, and perhaps even instruments of torture.155 153  Unfortified praetoria and provincial government by consent: Lavan (2001a). 154  Ostrogothic comes, with armed retinue: Cassiod. Var. 6.22.3 (Comes of Syracuse); Frankish king Guntram with guards: Gregory of Tours Hist. 7.8, repeated at 7.18 after an attack in church, PLRE 3.567–71 Guntchramnus (reigned AD 561–92). 155   Governors exhibiting insignia in procession: Fl. Astyrius (consul) diptych with pen case and situla: see n. 89 another attendant is also carrying fasces, also with one hand on a cloth; quite why a late consul was shown with judicial insignia is anyone’s guess; Probianus (vicarius Urbis romae) diptych: PLRE 2.908 Probianus 1 and 2.909 Rufius Probianus 7: see Volbach (1976) no. 62. For the insignia of the praetorian prefect of Illyricum and of provincial governors: Not. Dign. 8 and elsewhere. See MS. Canon. Misc. 378 on http://bodley30.bodley.ox.ac.uk:8180/luna/servlet (last accessed March 2014). For the cantharus and crater see: Lydus Mag. 2.14. For fasces on the liberalitas scene of the Arch of Constantine: Mayer (2002) pl. 39.3.

183 Everyday civil processions had no great constitutional significance, except for parades of appointment, when an official left the palace for the first time, confirmed in his role. Nonetheless, ordinary street movements by rulers did have significant socio-political functions. State carriages, official dress, and order were very much part of these occasions, as were official greetings shouted in the street. During these movements, as writers such as Ammianus or John Lydus make clear, all officials, from emperors to governors were expected to maintain a public display of dignity. An Ostrogothic formula of appointment insisted that street greetings to the vicar of Rome only be permitted when he wore his official costume. It adds: ‘In some provinces you even wear the paenula (cloak, probably meaning the paludamentum / chlamys) and ride in the carpentum, as a proof of your dignity’ (subectione decoraris).156 This confirms that the emperor, as much as the people, expected a governor to maintain the dignity of his magistracy through public displays of protocol. The formula’s rule on greetings also indicates that street salutations to passing officials were mandatory for pedestrians, not spontaneous; this may explain why a consular governor at Antioch derided a group of bystanders for giving him a street salutation, after he had just received a bad reception in the theatre; evidently, he could not stomach formalities coming from nervous pedestrians, when they had rejected him from the safety of greater numbers.157 Civil processions also gave the public a chance to gauge the political fortunes of individuals or groups. This was most simply expressed by one’s position in a procession: thus, John Lydus rejoiced that the judicial officiales of the praetorian prefect were allowed to escort their chief in public processions, whilst the financial officiales followed him from the rear. The manner of processional entries into palaces also made it possible to see who was ‘up’ and who was ‘down’. At Antioch, the wife of the Caesar Gallus gave a female informer the honour of being sent out of the front gates of the palace in a carriage, so as to encourage others to provide information, whilst at Constantinople the power of the general Vitalian was expressed, by Zachariah of Mitylene, as him being someone who often went in and out of the palace.158 These public street movements courted the 156   Dignity of office expressed in procession: emperors (Constantius II): Amm. Marc. 16.10.9–12; praetorian prefect: Lydus Mag. 3.35.5; governors: Cassiod. Var. 6.20.2 (on consular governor). 157  Official greetings: to vicar of Rome: Cassiod. Var. 6.15.2: ‘you wear the chlamys, and are not to be saluted by passers-by except when thus arrayed, as if the law wished you to be always seen in military garb’; to consularis Syriae (Antioch): Lib. Or. 41.12, 33.12 (PLRE 1.916–17 Tisamenus). 158  Honour in processions: precedence: Lydus Mag. 3.35.5; exiting palace in a carriage: Amm. Marc. 14.7.4; frequency of

184 crowds, being done with an eye for showmanship rather than security, forging a path through the main avenues with no attempt at anonymity; as such, they were not without danger. At Alexandria in 414/15, the governor Orestes was confronted by a mob of around 500 monks; he was struck on the head by a stone and only escaped thanks to the citizens present. At Constantinople in 409, the carriage of the urban prefect Monaxius, was overturned and dragged along the Mese, whilst in 562/63, one of his successors, Andreas, was attacked on leaving the palace, again likely in his vehicle.159 Punishment Parades One category of political procession that has escaped serious study within Late Antiquity is the punishment parade. These rituals took many forms and varied in severity, being designed to inflict different levels of social disgrace, or indeed physical harm, on their subjects. At the most benign level, we have some examples of ‘parade as punishment itself’, in which the disgrace of being marched about the city was enough to satisfy the authorities. This is known for prostitutes in Rome: according to a late source (John of Nikiu), Theodosius I apparently wished that a bell be rung as part of the parade, ‘so that their crimes might be made known to all’, whilst an earlier source, Socrates, describes bell ringing in Roman brothels but no procession. Theophanes repeats Socrates and represents Theodosius as abolishing the bell ringing he describes.160 If such processions did exist they were perhaps designed to brand as prostitutes palace visits: Zac. Myt. Hist. eccl. 8.2. 159   Street attacks on dignitaries: at Alexandria, on governor Orestes (PLRE 2.810–11 Orestes 1): Socrates Hist. eccl. 7.14 (AD 415); on philosopher Hypatia (dragged from her ‘chariot’—δίφρου, can mean litter, especially used by women at time of Cass. Dio 60.2, in early 3rd c.) the attack occurred during her daily appearance in the street: Socrates Hist. eccl. 7.15; John of Nikiu Chronicle 84.87–103; PLRE 2.575–76 Hypatia 1; at Cple, on urban prefect Andreas (PLRE 3.76 Andreas 7): Malalas 18.146 (AD 562/63), reconstructed in the edition of Jeffreys and Jeffreys (1986) 304, AD 563 according to Jeffreys (11th indiction cited by Malalas)), but 562/63 according to Theophanes A.M. 6055 (Mango and Scott edn. (1997)); on urban prefect Monaxius (PLRE 2.764–65 Fl. Monaxius) and his cart (καροῦχα = Latin carruca): Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 298 (‘AD 412’); date really 409 according to Whitby and Whitby edn. (1989) 63, n. 210). 160   Parade as punishment, for prostitutes at Rome, under Theodosius I: John of Nikiu, Chronicle 83 (61). Although both sources were remote in time from the late 4th c., there are echoes of this practice in another account of Rome under the same emperor, which records bells (κώδωνας) being rung to highlight the activities of prostitutes in penal brothels: Socrates Hist. eccl. 5.18, who notes that the brothel was known as the Sistra, suggesting the noise of a rattle. See also Theophanes A.M. 5885 (AD 392/93 date from Mango and Scott edn. (1997)).

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those who had taken money for sex, a concern reflected in late antique legislation, although Theophanes thinks those processed were adulterous women condemned to be prostitutes.161 Members of the Green Faction were paraded at Constantinople for several days in 562/63 following a riot, as were some Blues for minor disorder, later in Justinian’s reign. In all cases, the parade was the punishment itself, although for serious offenders (sword-wielders and rapists) it could be a prelude to mutilation.162 Earlier in the period, we see nakedness used to humiliate: under the Tetrarchy, a consecrated Christian virgin was paraded naked from the waist up, by a chief of police at Scythopolis. Then, in late 5th c. Constantinople, a bishop threatened an eminent imperial guard with tonsure and parade if he did not stop disturbing the congregation.163 A special form of ‘parade as punishment’ was undertaken using camels. This ritual has been identified within victory celebrations by M. McCormick, who notes captive barbarians displayed on camels as part of the triumph, shown on the Louvre drawings of the Column of Theodosius (fig. C4). However, it is also recorded as the treatment for bishop George of Alexandria in 361: his corpse was paraded on camels before being carried out of the city. The leaders of the Aikelah revolt were exhibited in this city in the same way (although alive) during the last years of the emperor Maurice (582–602). But the punishment was used on other occasions. According to Evagrius, commenting on events in the mid 5th c. but writing at the end of the 6th c., it was usual for ‘malefactors’ to be paraded on camels in Alexandria. At Constantinople, we see blasphemous gamblers and elderly astrologers treated in this manner, under Justinian.164 McCormick suggests this ritual was 161  Legal status of tavern women and identity of prostitutes: Dig. 3.2.4.2, 23.2.43.praef., 23.2.43.9. Illegitimate children: Cod. Theod. 4.6.3 (AD 336). Marriage forbidden: Marc. Nov. 4.1.1 (AD 454). 162  Parade as punishment, for violent criminals: at Cple: Green faction (AD 562/63): Malalas 18.146 (AD 562/63), reconstructed by Jeffreys et al. (1986) 304, see n. 150 above, (sword-wielders have thumbs amputated). Blues: Malalas 18.150 (rapist castrated). 163   Parade as punishment, with nudity: Christian virgin at Scythopolis: Euseb. Mart. Pal. Confession of Domninus (in ‘augmented’ Syriac version, complete by AD 441, though event is AD 307, 5th year of persecution); with tonsure (ὐποκει̃ραι): Theophanes A.M. 5982 (AD 489/90). 164   Punishment parade, on camel: McCormick (1986) 49–50 esp. n. 62; bishop George: Amm. Marc. 22.11.10, Sozom. Hist. eccl. 5.7.3, Socrates Hist. eccl. 3.2, Hist. Aceph. 6.8 (at Alexandria, AD 361), on whom see n. 26; Aikelah captives: John of Nikiu Chronicle 97.25 (at Alexandria, including leader Abaskīrōn PLRE 3.1–2, late 6th c., under Maurice, (AD 582– 602)); malefactors / preacher Theodosius: Evagr. Hist. eccl. 2.5 (at Alexandria ca. AD 448 and in general at time of Evagrius in late 6th c.); blaspheming gamblers: Malalas 18.47 (AD 529) (at

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4th c. in origin. Certainly, it can be noted that contemporaries themselves saw it as new: Gregory of Nazianzus described bishop George’s treatment as an innovation, as did Libanius. Even so, the ritual is recorded at Alexandria under Decius (249–51). Perhaps it was only new outside of Egypt. A separate use of camels as processional animals seems to have existed on the frontier of the Levant, if figurines bearing goddesses provide adequate testimony. This second ritual does not, as far as I know, enter our textual sources.165 Another animal parade of punishment, far more common in the Middle Ages, involved sitting a highstatus victim on a donkey or ass, though not yet backwards, a detail our sources do not mention. The usurper John was paraded on a donkey in the hippodrome of Aquileia in 426, prior to execution; a conspirator against king Reccared, the dux provinciae Argimundus, was paraded in Toledo, after mutilation, in ca. 590. The rite had previously been known both in Campania and Pisidia as a punishment for adultery, though without any reference to riding backwards, which I have not detected in Late Antiquity. An episode from 600/601 in Constantinople suggests that the custom was becoming well-established. Here a man of similar appearance to the emperor Maurice was crowned with garlic, given a black cloak, and set on a donkey, before being mocked by the crowds. This was no official punishment, but rather the imitation by a crowd of a rite appropriate for a deposed ruler. Unfortunately, a rather more gruesome fate was in store for both Maurice and his conqueror Phocas. Indeed, we have no indications that the donkey parade was used for anyone else in the period, despite the fate of fallen usurpers greatly interested late antique writers. One is left to wonder how knowledge of the ritual survived across the period, if it was used so infrequently.166 Cple); astrologers: Procop. Anecdota 11.37 (at Cple likely, reign of Justinian (AD 527–65)); martyrs under Decius: Euseb. Hist. eccl. 6.41.15 (at Alexandria, reigned AD 249–51). 165  Camel parade as an innovation: Greg. Naz. Or. 21.26; Lib. Or. 21.26. Camel as a processional animal in the Levant: Cumont (1917). 166  Punishment parade, on donkey: usurper John at Aquileia in AD 426: Procop. Vand. 1.3.9; adulterers at Cumae, Campania (Plut. Mor. Quaest. Graec. 2) and in Pisidia (Nic. Dam. Frag. no. 130 (FHG 3.462)). See Mellinkoff (1973) for further details on the rite; unpopular emperor Maurice see Theophanes A.M. 6093 (date AD 600/601 from Mango and Scott (1997) edn.), possibly taken from J. Ant. frag. 317 (not seen, not in FGH), a debate I do not wish to enter into here. Much could be written about the low status of the donkey and its use in rituals of revilement, the references for which I thank the anonymous referee. Here is a small selection: Julian Mis. 355 (asses and camels are lowest animals); Sev. Ant. Hom. 20 (PO 37.48–49) (ass is negative symbol, cannot be eaten, is filthy). However, it could be used for ordinary urban transport (Pelagia the Harlot n. 120 above), and was in use for bishops of Alexandria (perhaps in imitation of Christ), see n. 41.

185 If a parade of shame was seen as a punishment, there must have been some implications for the daily parades of prisoners from court to jail. John Chrysostom was shocked to see the councillors of Antioch being led in chains across the agora from the prison to the court room, after the Riot of the Statues in 387. Perhaps daily parades of prisoners, such as those let out in chains to beg in the agora, served a didactic purpose, their dishevelled appearance serving as a warning to others: ‘covered with filth … with uncut hair and clothed in rags … perishing with hunger … returning in chains from the market-place’.167 Yet, acts of humiliation might not be inflicted only on people. At Alexandria in 392 under bishop Theophilus, hidden sacred objects, discovered in a mithraeum and in the Serapeum, were carried around the city, in order to attract public ridicule. At Rome in 377/78, depending on nuances of language, it is likely that a comparable parade of cult statues as prisoners, was carried out by the urban prefect Gracchus, on destroying a mithraeum. Again, at Alexandria, in 485, the idols from a shrine of Isis in Menouthis were also paraded on camels after being brought to the city by the bishop Peter Mongos. At Constantinople, when pagans were paraded in 562, they had to endure their books, pictures, and statues being burnt in the Kynegion. At Antioch in the 550s, Amantianos, probably a magister militum, exposed confiscated pagan cult objects for the same purpose. The items (idols and impure vases) were led through the streets of the city.168 ‘Parades of punishments’, which exhibited the punishments actually inflicted on convicted criminals, went a degree further. Victor of Vita records how Vandals who converted to Catholicism were made to suffer decalvatio, a new Germanic practice which also existed in Visigothic Hispania and Merovingian Gaul. Here at least, it is clear that the punishment was no simple tonsure, but rather a scalping. Victor describes the removal of hair and skin from the heads of the victims, sometimes causing eyes to fall out or even death. Women were selected for special treatment: they not only suffered this horrible disfigurement, but ‘were paraded through the streets, with heralds going before them, so that the whole town could see’. Here, the punishment 167  Parade of prisoners: from court to prison at Antioch: Joh. Chrys. Hom. ad. pop. Ant. 13.6 (PG 49.139), 13.12 (PG 49.142); let out to beg: (Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Jo. 60.4 (PG 59.333). 168  Parade of sacred objects, for ridicule: at Alexandria, with a parade: Socrates Hist. eccl. 5.16 (before sack of Serapeum, which is now dated to around AD 392, although with some controversy on the exact year: Hahn (2004) 82–85; at Rome, 377/78: Jer. Ep. 107.2 (the images are carried before the prefect as hostages, like a parade of captives); at Alexandria, 485: Zach. Myt. V. Sev. 8 (pp. 33–35); at Cple under Justinian: Malalas 18.136 (after parade of pagans, A.D. 562); at Antioch in 550s: V. Sym. Jun. 161–62.

186 (loss of beauty) was being exhibited through a parade as a warning. Another example of the practice comes from Spain ca. 590, when king Reccared punished the aforementioned Argimundus with decalvatio, for a conspiracy, also having his right hand cut off, before being paraded, as a lesson to the people of Toledo. Whilst this specific punishment was not found in Roman law inside the empire, related exhibitions are known: under Justinian, bishops convicted of ‘pederasty’, had their genitals mutilated, and were paraded by the urban prefect Victor at Constantinople. Again, a herald preceded them, denouncing their offence. Under the same emperor, a rapist from the Green Faction was paraded prior to castration, but he escaped punishment due to the action of the Blues, who rescued him as he was led through the Forum of Leo (perhaps from the praetorium located in this square). Milder examples are known: at Antioch, bakers were paraded with their backs bared (after scourging?) in Libanius’ day. There might be some scope for deception. Following violence between religious groups in the capital, the emperor Tiberius II paraded Christian rioters on a carriage around the city painted with vermillion, to give the impression they had been scourged. Here the parade seems to have been intended to demonstrate that sentences had been carried out, aside from its role in humiliating the punished and deterring others.169 We have the most information about a more serious type of punishment parade: that of leading a convict out to his death in an ‘execution procession’. These parades did more than bring disgrace to the condemned person; they likely served to attract crowds who wished to witness the execution as a public event. The authorities doubtless intended this: the early 4th c. martyr Euplus was made to wear the Gospels (attached to his neck) when he was led out to execution, with a herald

169  Parade of punishments: of decalvatio in Vandal Africa: Victor Vit. 2.9 (2.4) (shortly after consecration of Eugenius as bishop of Carthage in AD 480/81, PCBE 1.362–65 Evgenivs 2); in Visigothic Spain: John of Biclar Chronicle ca. 590.3; of castration at Cple (AD 528): Malalas 18.18 (date from Jeffreys and Jeffreys (1986) edn.), Theophanes A.M. 6021 (AD 528/29 in Mango and Scott (1997) edn.) Georgios Kedrenos 645.17–646.2; Proc. Anec. 11.34–36 implies it was part of a wider purge of ‘pederasts’, apparently not confined to the clergy; we cannot determine if the sexual partners were children or adults, or consenting or not from the language used; before castration at Cple: Malalas 18.150 (latter days of Justinian, so AD 562–65, according to possible position in manuscript, on which see edn. of Jeffreys et al. (1986) 305); of backs bared (from scourging?) at Antioch: Lib. Or. 1.228 (AD 384/85, during mandate of PLRE 1.455–56 Icarius 2); of ‘scourging’ at Cple (AD 580): Joh. Eph. Hist. eccl. 3.32, with PLRE 3.737–38 Iulianus 20 as urban prefect at the time.

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advertising the cause of his condemnation.170 Execution processions finishing in decapitation or hanging could be implanted in civic memory, and are recalled in both martyr narratives and accounts of ordinary criminal punishments. Normally, the death penalty seems to have been carried out beyond the city limits, rather than at the tribunal, perhaps out of a desire to respect the traditional division between the city of the living and that of the dead, as expressed in the sacred boundary of the pomoerium. Extra-urban executions are recorded: at Edessa for the martyrs in 306/307 and in 308/309; at Ankara for the martyr Platonis, sometime between 303–13; at Vercelli for adulterers ca. 370; at Alexandria ca. 600 for murderers; and at Constantinople, throughout the period, for various crimes.171 We have no indication of any special costume for condemned people or of a blackening of the face, as is known in later periods. It is at least likely that some prisoners appeared naked from the waist down and bleeding, as they had come from court, where they had been both stripped and tortured, as well as stained by the filth of the prison.172 In 6th c. Constantinople, the execution parade was clearly important, whilst Jerome, Chrysostom, and other authors describe them in earlier centuries. Onlookers were definitely present in several cases. At Vercelli, a 170  Execution parade, as advertising condemnation: Latin version of Passio Eupli 3 (AD 304, on consular dating). 171  Executions outside of cities: at Edessa: Martyrdom of Gurya and Shmona (Segal (1970) 84) (AD 306/307, on Macedonian year); Martyrdom of Habbib the Deacon 35 (AD 308/309 on Macedonian year); at Ankara: V. Platonis 2, 20 (PG 115.405, 426–27) identifying the magistrate as a vicar, and so likely in persecutions of the early 4th c. (AD 303–13); at Vercelli: Jer. Ep. 1.7, 1.10 (written in AD 370 according to edn. of Wright (1933) 3, referring to event in lifetime of Jerome ca. 347–420); at Alexandria: Joh. Moschus 72 (story of Abbot Palladius of Thelazomenos monastery, written down ca. 600); at Cple: Zos. 4.52.4 (Proculus (urban prefect PLRE 1.746–47 Proculus 6) taken out to be executed in suburbs (of Cple) at Sycai and put to death) (AD 392); Malalas 18.71 (circus factions paraded through city and taken across Golden Horn to St. Conon’s to be executed in AD 532); this monastery in Galata (outside the city) is frequently mentioned as a place for executions, or for the display of decapitated heads: Chron. Pasch. Whitby and Whitby edn. (1989) 144 n. 403; Malalas 15.14 (heads of Illus and Leontius under Zeno); 18.13 (Hunnic king Tyranx executed here); at ‘Trier / Milan’ (forum scene): Dionisotti (1982) 105, line 75 (late 3rd or 4th c. based on names of officials, and location outside of Rome, as discussed on 118, 123–24), where a convicted criminal is led away from court to execution, rather than being killed on the spot. 172  Prisoners appearance, stripped to waist in court: Malalas 14.38; Acta purgationis Felicis in Optatus Milevitanus Appendix 2 (as preparation for torture); see depiction of Barabbas in Rossano Gospels folio 8v ‘Christ or Barabbas’: http://www.codexrossanensis.it/it/tavole/ (last accessed June 2014); filth of prison staining accused: Jer. Ep. 1.3; Victor Vit. 2.31–33.

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couple accused of adultery were accompanied by large crowds as they were taken out through the gates to face their sentence. At Constantinople, in the 5th and 6th c., executions came after a parade out to the city limits. In 532, one such parade sparked the Nika revolt, when trouble makers from both circus factions were subjected to this treatment. Chrysostom describes crowds in his day, ‘the greater part not even knowing …’ the condemned, with onlookers experiencing ‘their soul dejected, and relaxed with fear and despair’ at the spectacle. There is no record, here, or elsewhere, of cat calling, or the throwing of rotten fruit. Some onlookers were less resigned to due process: Libanius records that the weeping of the people might be enough to obtain a stay of execution from the governor. Failure to kill might be taken as a sign of innocence. Jerome mentions a revolt by a crowd which brought an executioner into danger, after his first sword blows failed to sever a woman’s neck. When a gallows collapsed at Constantinople, in 532, the crowd acclaimed the emperor, and three condemned men who survived were given sanctuary by monks from a neighbouring monastery. A monk also intervened to save a man at Angouleme, later in the 6th c., when the same thing happened. Crowds could be problematic in the case of controversial executions. Therefore parades were not used for all killings: when the magister militum Narses, working against the emperor Phocas, executed the bishop of Edessa, he led him out secretly through a postern in order to avoid a riot in the city; he then gave his sentence from the Gate of the Cave Tombs, thus avoiding a public proclamation in the city centre.173 Corpses and decapitated heads were displayed at execution points or on city gates, with the intention that those passing into the city would see them. So in the eastern capital in 522/23, Marcellinus Comes notes that ‘most of the stone throwers, bandits and ravagers of the city when … caught were put to the sword, burnt and hung because of their crimes, thereby providing a grateful sight for the good citizens’.174 This treatment is attested for usurpers in the 4th to 5th c. West, and also for criminals in the 6th to 7th c. East at Constantinople, 173  Crowd reaction, fear and despair: Joh. Chys. Hom. in 1 Thessal. 8.2 (PG 62.441) (Antioch / Cple); weeping for clemency: Lib. Or. 11.155 (Antioch); trying to prevent execution, threaten executioner: Jer. Ep. 1.10 (Vercelli, mid 4th c., see n. 171); scaffolding collapse leading to sanctuary: Malalas 18.71 (Cple, Nika rebellion, 532); Gregory of Tours Hist. 6.8 (Angouleme, against wishes of crowd, under Eparchius / Cybard, active (AD 542–81) PCBE 4.1.634–37 Eparchius 4); avoiding a spectacle: Dionysius reconstituted 13.13 (Edessa AD 603/604), with PLRE 3. 933–35 Narses 10. 174  Display of corpses didactic: Cple: Marcell. com. (AD 522–23); Amida: Chronicle of Zuqnin (61) (AD 525/26), with PLRE 3.1317 Thomas 11.

187 Amida, and Alexandria. In the final revolt against Phocas, the ‘Apulon’, a ‘governor’, had his head stuck on a gate at Alexandria ‘for all that went in and out to see’, whilst in 525/26, Abraham (Bar Kayli), bishop of Amida, arranged for the Dux Thomas to crucify four men on each gate; the bishop gave orders not to bring the corpses down until people were overcome by their stench. This eventually provoked a public protest in front of the bodies, which disrupted a religious procession to an extramural shrine.175 Such displays were the conclusion to a punishment procession, and obviously part of the street experience of those entering and leaving the city. But on exceptional occasions it was possible to bring the dead back into the city, transgressing the traditional sacred boundary between the intra-mural living and the extra-urban dead. Very rarely, there were ‘parades of body parts’ within cities. This usually involved public enemies. Maxentius’ head had been carried through the streets of Rome stuck on a lance as part of Constantine’s victorious adventus in 312. It was later sent on a tour of Africa, in a bizarre inversion of the adventus of imperial portraits to the provinces. A few decades later, the head of the usurper Nepotian was likewise paraded through the western capital by Magnentius. The head of the magister militum Gainas was also paraded in the eastern capital, after his defeat by Fravitta. During Leo’s reign, the head of the son of Attila was brought to Constantinople. It was carried in triumph down the Mese, before being taken to the Xylokeros (a gate) and stuck on a pole; the ‘whole city’ went out to gaze at it for several days. The heads of rebels Illus and Leontius received similar treatment under Zeno, as did that of Theodore under Anastasius. It 175  Display of corpses: at Cple, at extra-mural St. Conon in Galata: see n. 171 above; at Xylokeros gate: Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 312 (AD 469); at Campus of Tribunal: Theophanes A.M. 6095 (AD 602/603 date from Mango and Scott (1997) edn.) (Maurice and sons); at castellum of Theodosiani at Hebdomon: Theophanes A.M. 6101 (AD 608/609 date from Mango and Scott (1997) edn.); at Ravenna: Olympiodorus frag. 20 after suppressing rebellion of Sebastian and Jovinus under Alaric, Ataulf kills prefect Dardanus and exposes his head (together with that of Sebastian) outside ‘Carthage’, in the same place where the heads of Constantine and Julian had been cut off and where Maximinus (error for Maximus) and Eugenius, had met the same end, see Blockley (1983) 216 n. 50 (Olympiodorus edition). Carthage seems to be an error for Ravenna. The Annals of Ravenna AD 412 state that heads of Jovinus and Sebastian were taken to Ravenna on 30 August AD 412, whilst Theophanes A.M. 5904 (date AD 411/12 from Mango and Scott (1997) edn.) says they were brought to Rome; at Alexandria, ‘Apulon’ head: John of Nikiu Chronicle 107 (21) (AD 609/10, see Theophanes A.M. 6102 (AD 609/10 date from Mango and Scott (1997) edn.) or previous year); at Amida, four crucified men hung on each gate: Chronicle of Zuqnin (61) (AD 525–26).

188 is not known if a parade was undertaken, although this is likely as it occurred when the heads of different usurpers were received in Trier, Rome, or Ravenna in the period. Under Phocas, the ‘Balalun’ / governor of Alexandria, had his head cut off, after which it was suspended on a lance and carried into that city. Phocas himself was given a particularly grizzly treatment. The Chronicon Paschale informs us that ‘his hand was impaled on a sword and thus it was paraded along the Mese, starting from the Forum … His head was put on a pole, thus it too was paraded around’. Leontius the Syrian, the former sacellarius, was also decapitated during this episode.176 In many of these cases a parade of body parts had followed a formal execution and had imperial approval. However, there were also actions that were spontaneous. As Geiseric advanced on the city of Rome in 455, the emperor Petronius Maximus was killed and his body was dismembered by a crowd, who ‘with shouts of triumph paraded it about on a pole’. At Constantinople, in 395, the praetorian prefect Rufinus was also torn to pieces, by soldiers in assembly. Both his head and his hand were paraded separately down the main streets of the city. A stone was placed in his mouth by his killers, who sang triumphal songs. Gifts of gold coins were solicited for the severed hand and provided by shop keepers, on account of his ‘insatiable greed’. Here we are dealing with summary justice meted out by crowds and soldiers, 176  Parades of body parts (official): (Trier) Procopius: Head sent by Valens on defeat of usurper: Amm Marc. 27.2.10; (Rome) Maxentius: Pan. Lat. 4(10).32.4, 12(9).18.3 with journey round Africa described at Pan. Lat. 4(10).32.6 (AD 312); Nepotian: Jer. Chron. (AD 350); (?Aquileia) Magnus Maximus: the implication of Pan. Lat. 2(12).41.2 and 2(12).45.2 is that M.’s head was also paraded; it was subsequently sent to ‘Carthage’, Ravenna, or some other city, Olympiodorus frag. 20 see n. 175 (AD 388); (Cple) Gainas: Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 295 (AD 401) which is recording events from the perspective of the eastern capital, even if the location of the parade is not explicit; son of Attila: Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 312 (AD 468); Marcell. com. (AD 469); Illus and Leontius: Malalas 15.14 note in Jeffrey’s translation (detail from Slavic and other versions), Marcell. com. (AD 488.1) and see n. 138 above; Theodore: Evagr. Hist. eccl. 3.35, with PLRE 2.1092 Theodorus 34, perhaps the same as PLRE 2. 178–79 Athenodorus 2 (executed 497 in Marcell. Comes AD 497.3); Evagrius erroneously believed the head was sent along with that of Leontius of Selinus, which Whitby transl. (2000) 80 n. 136, identifies as an error by Evagrius, who was following a source other than Malalas here; further heads of usurpers: see McCormick (1986) 40, 44, 45, 46, 56; (Alexandria) governor / ‘Balalun’: John of Nikiu Chronicle 107 (15–16) (AD 609/610), see Theophanes A.M. 6102 (AD 609/10) or previous year); Phocas: Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 347 (AD 610); bishop Proterius: the whole corpse was dragged through the streets to shouts of soldiers, intent on displaying their victim, whose body they later hung up. This seems behaviour related to informal dragging rituals rather than a type of punishment procession in itself: see n. 186 (AD 457).

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without sentence being given. This being so, it is not surprising to hear of a monophysite monk, found in the house of Marinus the Syrian, whose head was cut off and paraded around Constantinople on a pole, in a period of unrest under Anastasius in 512. During this procession, his killers proclaimed that he was an ‘enemy of the Trinity’, perhaps justifying their use of a punishment normally meted out to enemies of the emperor.177 The most disgusting humiliation on record, given to a public enemy, was the treatment accorded to Elpidius, an illustris, at Constantinople during the reign of Phocas, against whom he was believed to have conspired. Elpidius ‘had his tongue cut and his four extremities removed; he was paraded on a stretcher and carried down to the sea; when his eyes had been gouged out he was thrown on a skiff and burnt’. Yet, this act was not just mindless violence. It seems to be part of the ritual for damnatio, going back to Republican Rome, whereby the body was mutilated and thrown in the Tiber. Such rituals continued in Constantinople and other Late Roman cities, but it was the movement of the victim through the streets which will have brought the event to the attention of most people.178 These occasions deeply marked public memory, as seen by the large number of authors from around the empire who recalled the gory death of the prefect Rufinus. Claudian imagined the whole population of Constantinople present for this event: including widows, children, and young girls. Even if some parents did try to keep children away from such violent scenes, the commotion generated by the cortege, and the subsequent display of body parts made the rite as public as any could be. The main street spectacle for the damnatio ritual was ‘dragging’, carried out by members of a mob, rather than by any public authority. This simply involved tying ropes to the feet of victims and pulling them, whilst running along. It was of course more than a humiliation. Great 177  Parades of body parts (spontaneous): Petronius Maximus: (Rome, AD 455) Priscus Book 5, Frag 30; monk of Marinus: (Cple, AD 512) Malalas 16.19, Marcell. com. (AD 512.2); Rufinus (Cple, AD 395): Claud. in Ruf. 400–45 (dismemberment, and stone-throwing, hand begging), PLRE 2.778–81 Flavius Rufinus 18. Philostorgius Hist. eccl. 11.3 notes that the hand was carried around the ergasteria of the city, which would imply the colonnaded streets, where most shops were located. The shopkeepers giving gold coins to the hand suggests the smarter shops of the Mese; Jer. Ep. 60.16.1: head carried into Cple on a javelin and severed hand begged from door to door; also Zos. 5.7.6 noted that both his hands, as well as the head, were severed, and that the soldiers sang songs of triumph. McCormick (1986) 48, n. 54 has other references; Elpidius, illustris: Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 346 (Cple, AD 605). 178  Damnatio: Stewart (1999). For a list of people thrown into the Tiber: see Flower (2006) 244 n. 9. See also Varner (2004). For Elpidius: see the previous footnote.

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harm and often death were inflicted in this process, making it a form of execution, or at least a prelude to it; victims were not expected to recover. The procedure is a somewhat timeless method of popular chastisement. Yet, it did contain some distinctive elements: Haas records this type of punishment at Alexandria, being a kind of choreographed civic cleansing ritual. It included a standardised public disposal of the body, a practice dating back to Early Imperial times.179 Examples come from across the period, although the practice is not mentioned for the West in Late Antiquity, even in Merovingian Gaul, despite the gory royal deaths which Gregory of Tours describes. It is noteworthy that this type of political assassination was usually left unpunished by the urban authorities. The only occasion when punishment followed was when Constantius cut the grain ration of Constantinople, in retaliation for the murder of his magister equitum. This leniency may have something to do with a late antique belief that the spontaneous behaviour of the people must have had some justifiable basis: an extreme version of the notion vox populi = vox dei, seen in the attitude of the authorities to crowd acclamations in both public settings and in church councils.180 At Alexandria, ‘dragging to death’ was the fate of bishop George and his companions in 361, and of bishop Proterius in 457,181 whilst the same thing happened at Antioch to both a praetorian prefect and a quaestor in 353/54, to a prefectus vigilum ca. 507, and to the city’s bishop Anastasius in 608/609. The latter is reported to have been dragged the length of the Antiochene Mese by a Jewish mob and / or by soldiers.182 At Constantinople, 179  Dragging through the streets: seen as a cleansing ritual in Haas (1997) 87–90. 180  Dragging unpunished: Lavan (2011a) xvii. Vox populi, vox dei: Roueché (1984) 187–88. Constantius II in Cple: Socr. Hist. eccl. 2.13. 181   Dragging examples, Alexandria: bishop George, comes Diodorus and superintendent of mint Dracontius: Amm. Marc. 22.11.8–10 (AD 361); Proterius: Evagr. Hist. eccl. 2.8, around Easter in the year of Marcian’s death (AD 457), with Theophanes A.M. 5950 (AD 457/58); Jerusalem: possible example is Theophanes A.M. 5945 (AD 452/53), which sounds like a popular dragging, instigated by anti-Chalcedonian bishop Theodosius, rather than an execution, although πομπεύσας is used. 182  Dragging examples, Antioch: praetorian prefect Domitianus and quaestor Montius: Amm. Marc. 14.7.16 (AD 353/54); Libanius imagines his dragging, tied to a bull: Lib. Or. 1.146; prefectus vigilum Menas: Malalas 16.6 (AD 507 according to edn. of Jeffreys and Jeffreys (1986) 222); bishop Anastasius: Theophanes A.M. 6101 (AD 608/609 from Mango and Scott (1997) edn.) with the report of the mutilation; Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 347 (AD 610) has a report that soldiers killed him, on which see the edn. of Whitby and Whitby (1989) p. 150 n. 420 and Frendo (1982). I do not feel that this report has to be an

189 the magister equitum Hermogenes was treated thus when preparing to depose the city’s bishop in 342, as was a prefectus vigilum in 465, whilst faction members celebrating gifts from the emperor Justin I similarly seized and dragged members of the ‘riff-raff’ in 520. The ritual was repeated at least twice in 610, when Heraclius captured the eastern capital.183 According to the report of an Egyptian bishop, preserved by Evagrius, the humiliation of Proterius also included displaying his body hung on the tetrapylon. In most cases, the ritual ended with the public burning of the corpse (as at Alexandria, Antioch, or Constantinople),184 or by throwing it into the sea (as at Constantinople, and sometimes Alexandria) or a river (as at Rome, Antioch, and Aphrodisias). It is significant that citizens of Aphrodisias, ca. 500, acclaimed that they would take the enemies of the clarissimus Albinus ‘to the river’. Their own river is usually little more than a stream; this again suggests the punishment was a recognised cultural ritual, rather than an act of random violence.185 Although dragging through the streets seems to have occurred spontaneously, without any legal sentence being given, it might sometimes be sanctioned as a punishment by the authorities. It appears as such in the apocryphal Acts of Philip, probably written in the 4th c. AD, when dragging was authorised on the orders of a proconsul. At Antioch, the soldiers of Gallus killed anti-semitic fabrication, as these street draggings are widely attested and not confined to any confessional group. 183  Dragging examples, Cple: magister equitum Hermogenes: Socrat. Hist. eccl. 2.13, Sozom. Hist. eccl. 3.7; Jer. Chron. 342 (AD 342); prefectus vigilum Menas: Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 311 (AD 465); ‘riff-raff’: Malalas 17.8, note excerpta de insidiis adds detail after death of Vitalian in AD 520 (παρακενότων taken to read παρακενωτῶν ‘riff-raff’ by Jeffrey’s Malalas p. 233 n. 8, though the meaning is uncertain). A. Lamapadaridi pers. comm. 2019 has suggested to me that it is possible that there is an error in the ms. tradition: the form must be παραγεγονότων meaning the people attending, the attendance. For individuals see Dracontius in Peachin (1986) 100; PLRE 1.262 Domitianus 3; PLRE 1.535–36 Montius Magnus 11; PLRE 2.755 Menas 4; PLRE 1.422–23 Hermogenes 1; PLRE 2.754 Menas 3; PLRE 2.1171–76 Vitalianus 2. 184  Burning of the corpse: at Alexandria: Amm. Marc. 22.11.10 for George, Dracontius, Diodorus, and Proterius as above, and for Hypatia as in my n. 159 and n. 213; at Antioch: Malalas 16.6, Theophanes A.M. 6101 (date AD 608/609 from Mango and Scott (1997) edn.); at Cple: Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 346 (AD 605) for Elpidius, Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 347 (AD 610), for Phocas, Leontius, Bonosus, and others. For individuals see PLRE 3.441 Elpidius 3; PLRE 3.780 Leontius 29; PLRE 3.239–40 Bonosus 2. 185   Throwing corpse / ashes in sea: at Cple: Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 311 (AD 465), Olympiad 346 (AD 605); at Alexandria: Amm. Marc. 22.11.10. Throwing corpse in river: at Rome: Jer. Ep. 38.6.2, after a stoning; at Antioch: Amm. Marc. 14.7.16; at Aphrodisias: ALA 83.9, 6th c.

190 his enemies, Domitianus the prefect and Montius the quaestor, by dragging them through the streets ‘at full speed’, so that their ‘joints and limbs were torn asunder’, before mutilating their bodies ‘in a horrible manner’ and throwing them into the river. In Vandal Africa, Victor of Vita recalls that Huneric ordered the bodies of executed nobles to be ‘dragged through the lanes and streets’ after their execution. At Constantinople, such explicit permission does not seem to have been given, though the authorities sometimes allowed or perhaps even encouraged dragging. According to the Chronicon Paschale, in 465, Leo I arranged for Menas the praefectus vigilum, who had been accused of depravity, to be tripped up by a little boy during his interrogation in the Hippodrome; he was then dragged by the people to the Studios (and so presumably along the Mese), where he was killed. After the decapitation of Phocas, on the orders of Heraclius, what remained of his body was dragged from the Forum (of Constantine) along the Mese to the Chalke of the Hippodrome with Leontius the Syrian, who was still alive, until he was dispatched at the end of the route.186 Damnatio / dragging became so well-recognised as a street ritual that it was transferred to both symbolic and religious spheres. Thus, when rebellious subjects were unable to get their hands on unpopular emperors, they might drag imperial statues through the street, as happened at Antioch during the Riot of the Statues in 387, and at Constantinople under Anastasius, when statues of himself and the empress were bound with ropes and dragged through the city. Libanius notes that such behaviour might take place in the context of festival license, as at Edessa, when a statue of Constantius II was overturned and its backside whipped. Under normal circumstances, such acts were seen to invite execution or military action against a city. Interestingly, at Caesarea Philippi under Julian, pagans dragged the famous statue of Christ around the city and mutilated it, when the emperor replaced it with one of his own. Here, a damnatio of the statue was being attempted, comparable to the destruction of an imperial image, undertaken when an emperor’s memory was damned, or when a revolt was proclaimed against him.187 186  Dragging to death as semi-official punishment, at Antioch, for praetorian prefect and quaestor: Amm. Marc. 14.7.16 (dragged per ampla spatia civitatis); in Africa: Victor Vit. 2.15 (2.5) (under Huneric, reigned AD 477–84, PLRE 2.572–73 Hunericus); at Cple, for prefectus vigilum: Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 311 (AD 465); Phocas and Leontius: Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 347 (AD 610). 187  Dragging of statues: at Antioch, Statues Riot: Theod. Hist. eccl. 5.19 (AD 387); at Edessa: Lib. Or. 19.48, 20.27–28 (under Constantius, so AD 337–61); at Cple, Anastasius: Marcell. com. (AD 492/93) (AD 493 in Mommsen (1894) edn.); at Caesarea

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A final text describes street damnatio in terms of the half-invisible world of Christian demonology. At Antioch, in the mid 6th c., the Life of Symeon Stylites the Younger, written by a contemporary, describes how three soldiers who tried to take down portraits of Symeon hanging above a shop door, were pulled down by invisible forces, like at the beginning of a dragging, as if disrespect to the image of a saint could be equated with treason against the emperor. On a second occasion, an enemy of the saint was thrown onto the ground by a demon in front of his companions, after being publicly denounced by the Stylite: he perished in a public colonnade (dèmosion embolon), probably of a street, within a narrative sequence which suggests that he was dragged away from the (different) place where he was sitting. Elsewhere, the same text recalls a boy’s vision in which the demon who is torturing him is captured and led in red-hot iron chains with his hands tied behind his back by the saint, to his column, to be burned in an oven. This imagery anticipates the ultimate fate of Phocas and his companions, burned in an ox-furnace after their dragging, and of victims at Alexandria, though it obviously also draws on triumphal imagery involving the parade of captives.188 Although there were clearly some recognised formulaic elements to the ritual damnatio of dragging, the behaviour of the instigators of these spectacles seems to have been spectacularly uncontrolled. This was true of the deaths of Rufinus—who was torn to pieces by the soldiers, organ by organ in the account of Claudian— and of Proterius, who was effectively barbecued by his killers, who went so far as to taste his (burnt) entrails. Wild uninhibited violence can also be seen in the killing of the bishop Anastasius at Antioch in 610, who, according to Theophanes, finished his life with his severed genitals in his mouth. The utter depravity of such actions seems to reflect the fact that, in each of these cases, the instigators were soldiers. These seem to be battlefield mutilations, normally carried out on the bodies of foreign enemies, as known from other historical periods. What was unusual was the urban context. The behaviour of spectators was also wild: bystanders threw stones at the severed heads and doubtless participated in the beating of those who were still alive. The Chronicon Paschale records that on the fall of Phocas ‘Leontius the Syrian, the former sacellarius, was … dragged: as he was Philippi, statue of Christ: Sozom. Hist. eccl. 5.21.2 (under Julian, so AD 361–63). 188  Dragging / damnatio by invisible forces: V. Sym. Jun. 158 (edn. van den Ven (1962–70) 139–41) (when trying to take down image of the saint), 224 (edn. van den Ven (1962–70) 194–96) (when denounced by the saint), 231 (edn. van den Ven (1962– 70) 204–208) (in the vision of a sick boy).

Street Processions

still breathing, someone gave him a blow to the head with a piece of wood by the Chalke of the Hippodrome, and then he died’. This was very likely just a member of the crowd. The inclusiveness of this violence is also suggested by Leo’s reported use of a little boy to trip up his prefectus vigilum prior to dragging: lack of respect was exhibited by all to the victim, to the highest degree. The routes of punishment processions seem only to have been set in two instances. Firstly, the parade of prisoners or usurpers’ heads coming into a city, had to come from one of the gates down the main streets and probably ended up in the hippodrome. Secondly, for the parade of execution, the route was from the courts out to the suburbs. ‘Parades as punishment’, or ‘parades of punishment’, would doubtless have tried to cover a significant part of the city via the main streets, to make citizens aware of the condemnation. Spontaneous dragging would certainly have made use of the main avenues of a city (as at Antioch for bishop Anastasius), and could also have involved fixed points for the burning of the corpse—such as the furnace of the Forum Bovis at Constantinople, or the theatre at Alexandria—and for throwing the body or the ashes into a river or the sea. Yet, overall, there seem to be few canonical fixed points when compared to other political processions, suggesting that there could be an air of unpredictability about some of these occasions, which were scenes of high emotion and were perhaps a little dangerous to witness. Social Processions Patrons Moving through the City One of the most frequent types of procession to punctuate the life of late antique cities were those of rich patrons making their way around the urban landscape, dressed in their fine clothes and accompanied by servants and clients. Simply having money seems to have been sufficient qualification to appear in the street in this manner: Chrysostom recalls wealthy actors and dancers undertaking such displays, as well as the more respectable rich. After describing ‘a man with a long train of attendants, clearing a way along the streets, clothed in silken garments, riding aloft, and stiffening his neck’ he notes that ‘actors and dancers may ride on horseback with a servant running before them, yet are they but actors and dancers still. Their horses and attendants procure them no respect’. His contemporary Libanius sees such behaviour as defining the rich man ‘on a fine horse, nose in the air, with a mass of attendants, a great household, wide

191 estates, toadies, parties, gold’.189 The examples we have of such ‘patronal processions’ mainly date to the later 4th and early 5th c. AD, and come from the central and eastern Mediterranean. The detailed testimonies of late 4th c. Antiochenes (Ammianus, Libanius, Chrysostom, and perhaps Asterius), suggest that criticism of these processions was a key element of social satire in their city. However, similar remarks are also found in the works of the pagan philosopher and historian Eunapius of Sardis, around this time.190 For the later 5th to 6th c. we have fewer descriptions. We cannot be certain if this is due to a change in behaviour: daily trips from the house to the agora with servants are recorded in the eastern capital in the time of Justinian. At the same time, ostentatious funeral processions are also attested, involving a display of household retainers.191 Furthermore, some 6th c. texts from the West also suggest that status processions continued, though perhaps in a different form to those seen earlier. From Ostrogothic Ravenna, we hear of an ostentatious trip to public baths and, from Visigothic Emerita (Mérida), of a procession of a bishop accompanied by an escort of slaves in a style which his hagiographer thought recalled royalty. In Merovingian Gaul, in the mid 6th c., Queen Radegund of Poitiers wore an elaborate costume when walking with her attendants in festival processions: it included purple, gems and ornaments. The wife of a dux in Soissons is also recorded processing through the streets in 587, with fine clothes, jewels, and an escort of slaves / servants: she was going off to church rather than to the forum. This implies that the habit of showing off riches / retainers in the street persisted, likely as much in the East as in the West, even if the routes of such progresses may have changed.192 This displacement of household ritual may have happened earlier 189  Daily processions of rich and followers: at Antioch / Cple: Joh. Chys. Hom. in 1 Tim. 11.5 (PG 62.557–58); at Antioch: Lib. Or. 62.11. 190  Antiochene writers critical: see nn. 189, 194–202, joined by Asterius Amas. Hom. 2 (PG 40.188): ‘trailing after us hordes of ill-starred parasites’ and Eunap. Historia frag. 62.2 (on the praetorian prefect Rufinus). 191  Status processions in 6th c. Cple: Belisarius’ daily walk to agora with Vandals, Goths, and Moors: Procop. Goth. 3.1.5–6. Ostentatious funerals: Cod. Iust. 7.6.1.5 (AD 531), Just. Nov. 59.6 (AD 537). 192  Status and processions in 6th c. West, in parades to public baths (Ravenna): Procop. Goth. 3.1.37–41; in episcopal procession (Emerita (Mérida)): V. SS. Patr. Emerit. 5.3; in festival procession (likely Poitiers): Venantius Fortunatus Life of Radegund 13 (pompa comitante regina procedere; blattis, gemmis, ornamentis); in trip to church (Soissons): Gregory of Tours Hist. 9.9. N.B. Gregory the Great is said to have walked around the city of Rome in silken robes sewn with jewels before becoming a deacon: Gregory of Tour Hist. 10.1.

192

figure c5

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Parade to the Baths: Mosaic from Piazza Armerina (4th c.), showing a rich lady walking in procession surrounded by servants, with all she needed for bathing

than we think: at Rome, Jerome recalls charity given at a church in a form that strongly resembles the traditional salutatio, morning greeting ritual: a wealthy woman gave out coins to beggars standing in line, having processed through St. Peter’s preceded by her eunuchs. When one poor old woman got back in the line for another coin she received a punch, hard enough to draw blood. For Jerome this was shocking and was not a spectacle of Christian charity. Elsewhere, the Church may have had more control over redistributing wealth, with anonymity to the donor, which Jerome saw as essential. But the exceptional context of Rome, with very rich patrons, allows us to see the social potential of visits to churches for the households of the wealthy.193 For the route of the earlier social processions our best source is John Chrysostom, describing life in either Constantinople or Antioch around 400. His writing suggests that the traditional daily round, of salutatio, forum, baths / theatre and dinner, was still intact in large eastern cities. He contrasts the daily life of a monk with that of a (male) adult, providing a revealing description of the morning round, to which he adds further details elsewhere.194 The survival of the domestic salutatio, whereby clients and family members ritually greeted the heads of (usually more senior) households, can be confirmed for much of the empire in the 4th c. It is attested by Ausonius at Bordeaux, by Augustine at Milan and Carthage, by Ammianus at Rome, and by Damascius at Alexandria. The ritual is also found at Antioch, where Libanius provides details of the regulated audiences

193  Salutatio in church: Jer. Ep. 22.32. 194  Route of daily round: from home to the agora, after calling on neighbours and doing one’s accounts, but before bath or home: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Tim. 14.4 (PG 62.576); from church after communion but before going for a bath: Joh. Chrys. Hom in Mt 5.1 (PG.57.55).

of governors, as do laws of 385 and 396.195 Other elements of the daily round are confirmed by the same sources, all relating to the later 4th or early 5th c.196 It seems that wealthy patrons regularly processed down to the forum / agora in mid-morning, after an audience of clients at home, before going on to the baths or theatre in the afternoon. The first part of the journey, from house to agora, was certainly undertaken accompanied by domestics and clients. The arrival at the agora seems to have been the climax of the act, where one could expect the maximum number of clients to be in attendance. Indeed, the trip to the agora appears to have been the most important part of everyday social display.197 Powerful individuals also entered the public baths with a substantial escort, according to Italian evidence of 4th and 6th c. date. Servants carried clothes, jewellery boxes, and bathing equipment through the streets (fig. C5), in an exhibition of material wealth which could trigger jealous reactions.198 Visits from the house to the theatre might again be occasions for the display of followers, according to remarks made by Libanius on the governors of Antioch.199 The relative status of individuals was expressed in these processions through the mode of transport used,200 through the number of domestic servants and clients in 195  Survival of salutatio, at Bordeaux: Ausonius Carm. 2.4; at Milan: Conf. 6.11. Cassiod. Var. 7.24 may describe the salutatio of a governor (or at least the secretarium within the law court); at Rome: Amm. Marc. as below in the next footnote; at Carthage see August. Conf. 6.9; at Alexandria, (AD 415): Damascius, fr.104 (Suda ‘Upsilon’ 166) with Haas (1997) 311; at Antioch, obligatory audiences: Lib. Or. 10, 56.2 (four per month for praefectani to see the consularis) and 51 and 52 for abuses, with Liebeschuetz (1972) 189–90; right of salutatio before governor: Cod. Iust. 1.55.4 (AD 385) for defensors, Cod. Theod. 6.26.7 (AD 396). All these references are later 4th c. except where stated otherwise. 196  Elements of the daily round: in Italy: Cassiod. Var. 8.31 (visit to market place for law court, dice and shops, then baths and banquet); at Rome: Amm. Marc. (clients visiting houses) 14.6.12–13, 28.4.12 and then processions of patrons with clients or servants 14.6.16–17 ( familiarium), 28.4.8 (servi), 24.8.9 (ministris tholos to baths); at Athens: Greg. Naz. Or. 43.16 (house, agora, baths); at Antioch: Lib. Or. 11.171 (time of visit to agora), 33.12 (processions of clients). 197  Agorai and display of followers: see the pertinent chapters in this book, plus Lavan (2007a) 157–67. 198  Processions to baths: at Rome: Amm. Marc. 28.4.9 (with ministris tholos), 28.4.19 (with towels, robes, rings, and people to look after them); in Late Roman Italy: a procession to the baths with servants carrying a toilet casket seems to be shown on the Projecta Casket, similar to the bathing ‘support staff’ of servants shown on the mosaics of Piazza Armerina (Fig. D5); in Ostrogothic Italy: Procop. Goth. 3.1.37–41 (wealth display in baths, leading to a murder); at Samosata: Theodoret Hist. eccl. 4.13 (bishop bathing with servants in public bath). 199  Processions to theatre: Lib. Or. 33.12. 200  Transport used: explored in the next chapter.

Street Processions

accompaniment, and through the richness of a patron’s personal adornment. At Rome, Ammianus recorded servants marching after their patron, but also clients: he saw something like a guild of weavers, as well as the ‘idle plebians’ of a neighbourhood, following in a procession. Last of all came eunuchs (slaves), men then boys. Such eunuchs might be the only street escort for wealthy women or girls, marching before them, as Jerome records. At Antioch or Constantinople, Chrysostom makes it clear that it is free servants, not slaves, who constitute a patron’s retinue. A century later, the general Vitalian was followed about the eastern capital by his domestics and also by a notary; his contemporary, the praetorian prefect Marinus the Syrian, similarly liked to have someone ready with writing tablets as he traversed the eastern capital. In Merovingian Gaul, an escort of slaves / servants (pueri), both in front and behind, was appropriate for the wife of dux Rauching. Chrysostom singles out the number of servants (along with horses) as being a critical measure of the glory of these processions. Finally, Belisarius was escorted by Vandals, Goths, and Moors, who were probably his bucellarii, or private bodyguard.201 Some clients no doubt followed their patron from the audience hall of their house, such as those who waited in front of the house of Hypatia in Alexandria to greet her. Other clients might meet their patron in the street itself.202 Asterius of Amaseia records children joining these groups out of fascination—pointing out the stories illustrated on the embroidered textiles worn by patrons—and perhaps also hoping for some minor largesse at the end of the trip.203 Some domestic servants may sometimes have worn ‘house uniforms’ on these occasions: barbarian servants liveried in gold are known at Constantinople / Antioch, ca. 400, whilst bishop Masona’s slaves were dressed in silk, again suggesting distinctive dress.204 The 201  Domestic servants: at Rome: Amm. Marc. 14.6.16–17 ( familiarium / servi), with weavers and plebs, then eunuchs; Jer. Ep. 54.13 (eunuchs walking before a lady), 66.13 (carrying wealthy girls); at Antioch / Cple: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Cor. 11.4 (PG 61.92) and Hom. in 1 Tim. 11.5 (PG 62.557–58); at Cple: Zac. Myt. Hist. eccl. (read in translation) 8.2 (Vitalian, PLRE 2.1171–76 Fl. Vitalianus 2), 7.9 (Marinus PLRE 3.726–28 Marinus 7); Procop. Goth. 3.1.5–6 (Belisarius escorted by bucellarii); at Soissons: Gregory of Tours Hist. 9.9 (wife of dux Rauching) PLRE 3.1078 Rauchingus. 202  Clients: in street: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Matth. 19.3 (PG 57.277), Hom. in 1 Cor. 40.5 (PG 61.354) (that the pesterers are clients is my guess). See also: Hom. in Matth. 4 (PG 57.48) (‘leading about parasites and flatterers’); outside houses: at Suda (Damascius) ‘Upsilon’ 166 (Alexandria); Lib. Or. 2.6 (at Antioch). 203  Children joining processions from curiosity: Asterius Amas. Hom. 1. (PG 40.165) 204  Dress: barbarian servants liveried in gold: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Rom. 17.4 (PG 60.569); bishop Masona of Emerita (ca. 570 to

193 number of people involved in such processions is difficult to judge, and relies on only a few references. According to Chrysostom a wealthy woman would be ashamed to go out with only two servants (paides), whilst a man would be afraid to go out without his slaves (douloi), as he would be laughed at. At the top end of the scale, Ammianus was scandalised that senators took as many as 50 servants to go to the baths in Rome, whilst Libanius records that it was a disgrace for a consular governor to be followed home by 20 people. This gives us a rough idea of the number of followers which the two Antiochenes thought represented usual practice for someone of senatorial rank: perhaps 50 was an appropriate number for a daily street procession of a provincial clarissimus in a major city. The patrons of Rome seen by Ammianus commanded far greater numbers: he states that they brought their entire household out onto the street, including the kitchen staff. They may have had up to 200 servants in their entourage, a reasonable estimate of the size of senatorial slave-households in the great city. Equally, Belisarius’ daily escort to the forum at Constantinople seemed like a ‘crowded festival procession’ to Procopius.205 One should also not assume that all followers of processions were of low status: Libanius himself used to escort people on occasions, despite his high rank.206 At the head of the group was at least one baton-wielder, attested in late 4th / early 5th c. Rome, Constantinople, and Antioch, whose job was to move onlookers out of the way.207 This might extend to opening up a wide ca. 600): V. SS. Patr. Emerit. 5.3. 205  Numbers following: Senatorial patrons: Amm. Marc. 28.4.9 (50 ministris tholos); Governor: Lib. Or. 33.12.1 (20 followers constitutes a disgrace for a consular). Wealthy woman: Joh. Chrys. Hom in Heb. 38.4 (PG 63.197–98). Man: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Jo. 80 (PG 59.436); Belisarius: Procop. Goth. 3.1.5–6. Ammianus 14.6.16 remarks that the senatorial patrons go out ‘not leaving even Sannio at home, as the comic writer says’, which is a reference to Ter. Eun. 780, when a wealthy household is emptied of slaves except one called Sannio. The size of slave households in Rome could be as great as 400, for one ex-consul under Nero (Tac. Ann. 14.42–45, esp. 43) with Treggiari inferring that it was the norm for a family to own hundreds of slaves based on the columbarium of the senatorial Volusii Saturnini family commemorating over 200 slaves and freedmen across several generations in the period AD 40–60: Treggiari (1975) 395. The 400 put to death under Nero, after the murder of their master, were, according to Tactius all living under the same roof (i.e. in the domus). They likely did not include the much larger numbers involved in agricultural work on country estates, which we know could be counted in their thousands, as discussed for the slaves of Melania in the early 5th c., by Harper (2011) 192–95. 206   High-status people escort others: Lib. Or. 2.7. 207   Processions led by baton-wielder: at Rome: Amm. Marc. 14.6.16–17 (the steward); at Antioch / Cple: Joh. Chrys. Hom.

194 corridor, free of people, so that the cortege could be seen from afar: such habits amongst senior clergy at Constantinople shocked Gregory of Nazianzus.208 At Rome, Ammianus names the stick-carrier as the household steward (praepositus). He notes that his wand / staff (virga) served to clearly identify him in his role, like an insignia of office, and that he held it in his right hand during the procession. His task, we are told, was to ensure that all participants were correctly placed in the cortege, sometimes in tight lines. It is not certain that all stick carriers were stewards, but it is likely that in most cases the two were identical and thus stood at the head of the group.209 In Ammianus’ procession there is a clear order of precedence, as his description of weavers, cooks, and eunuchs above reveals. In this image, the coach / litter goes first, with the procession following.210 But elsewhere in his writings, when going by foot, the patron appears last, like a man ‘bringing up the rear of an army’. Conversely, when Chrysostom describes rich men walking, they lead vast numbers of crowds around the agora, rather than following them. Such variation might be the result in part of entering and leaving buildings: a patron could enter a building last and leave it first, causing an inversion of the processional order.211 The most important point was probably that a coherent directional sequence was followed, so that rank could be clearly expressed. Regardless of the order, the place of greatest honour was always reserved for the patron:

in 1 Tim. 11 (PG 62.501–600); clearing the way before the group: Hom. in 1 Cor. 40.5 (PG 61.354). Hom. in 1 Tim. 11.5 (PG 62.557–58); at Antioch (for governors (judges)): Hom. in Col. 7.3 (PG 62.347); at Cple (for Eutropius, consul, PLRE 2.440–44 Eutropius 1): Hom. in Eutropium 1.1 (PG 52.392). This baton (which some identify with the baculus) is perhaps identical to that carried by an imperial official in processions as depicted in the adventus of Diocletian and Maximian on the temple at Luxor, by a senator on their Decennalia monument at Rome, and by the general in the Piazza Armerina mosaic, described and illustrated in Kalavrezou-Maxeiner (1975) 236–37, plates 14–16, who points out that in the Decennalia depiction of the man carrying the baton is facing towards the procession, as if directing it. Mayer (2002) 33.2 illustrates the (eroded) Decennalia monument. 208  Opening up a corridor for a cortege: Greg. Naz. Or. 42.24. 209  Batons: steward with wand (virga), who organises a procession: Amm. Marc. 14.6.16–17; servant with rod (ῥάβδος): Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Cor. 40.5 (PG 61.354). 210  Organisation of a procession: Amm. Marc. 14.6.16–17 (by steward); 28.4.8 (servi organised like soldiers, in maniples). 211  Order of procession: patrons go last: Amm. Marc. 28.4.8; patrons lead crowds: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Jo. 3.5 (PG 59.43); entering a building (bishops in church): C. Laod. Canon 56 (Mansi 1.2.574); (praetorian prefect in Senate, last in, first out): Lydus Mag. 2.9.

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they might wear golden silk, jewelled adornments and perfume, even the men.212 The function of these everyday processions (which were not legally sanctioned in any way) seems to have been the conspicuous display of wealth and influence in public, whereby patrons competed with each other and also interacted with clients, superiors, and equals. This interaction was achieved largely through a simple visual display of splendour. According to Chrysostom, ordinary people were often over-awed by such wealth, with those watching from the roadside workshops admiring the excellent physical condition of the servants, as well the patron’s horse, its bridle, his clothes, and the ‘parasites’ following. Onlookers might be envious or believe that those so honoured were blessed. Rival patrons might feel jealous of the visibility of clients belonging to another party. It is claimed, by Damascius, that when bishop Cyril of Alexandria passed the house of Hypatia he became intensely jealous, on account of the many people waiting in the street to go in and see her. The philosopher was subsequently pulled from her carriage and killed on her way home.213 Yet, this incident was regarded by contemporaries as shocking and seems to have been exceptional; we have no other instance of a patron’s street procession being attacked: cold-shouldering was perhaps more likely. For people who were on speaking terms, interactions with patronal processions took place largely through ritual greeting, about which we have details for Antioch, Alexandria, and Constantinople. This might take the form of a salutation or compliment, such as that between Libanius and his bakers, who greeted him as he walked past their shops. Governors, and so probably all senior officials, also expected to be hailed by those they

212  Appearance of patrons, jewellery: Gregory of Tours Hist. 9.9 (wife of Rauching, at Soissons, (AD 587) wears precious gems and gold); Joh. Chrys. Hom in Heb. 38.4 (PG 63.197–98) records jewellery and clothes, worn by women within generic public space rather than the street specifically; silks of rich in street: Joh. Chrys. Ad Theodorum lapsum (Treatise) 9.16–9.20; Hom in 1 Cor. 13.5 (PG 61.113); Joh. Chrys. Ad Theodorum lapsum 11; Asterius Amas. Hom. 1 (PG 40.165–68) which mentions light fabrics and embroidered animals; Amm. Marc. 28.4.8, with 14.6.9 with silks and embroidered clothes. See also Ammianus 14.6.9 (general description. of clothing of senators, but follows after a description of their use of coaches, and precedes a description of street processions); perfumes of rich, even men: Joh. Chrys. Ad Theodorum lapsum (Treatise) 9.16–9.20. 213  Reaction of onlookers: awe and jealousy: Joh. Chrys. Hom in Mt. 3.7 (PG 57.37); Hom. in Tit. 2.4 (PG 62.676); patrons ‘blessed’: Joh. Chrys. kal. 1.3 (PG 48.957) (given in Antioch according to Mayer (2002) 511–12); jealously from other patrons: (Hypatia) Damascius, fr.104 (Suda ‘Upsilon’ 166); see n. 159 of this chapter for other references to the attack.

Street Processions

passed, as discussed earlier.214 For Libanius, there was more honour if one was greeted first in an encounter.215 The senior party might descend from a carriage or horse to show favour, a custom which endured throughout the whole period.216 Alternatively, a junior party might stand up as their superiors approached. They might also keep their eyes downcast, as did Libanius to show respect to generals and governors, and as did students to honour their teacher. Women were expected to do the same to communicate modesty.217 Failure to stand up for a senior party, or failure to acknowledge them through a greeting, could be seen as a snub, as perhaps was a stare. Conversely, the Late Roman elite defined their higher status by maintaining a rigid aloof posture, which probably lacked either eye contact or greeting, as they glided through the streets. As part of greetings, parents and teachers would kiss children, as clients did patrons (on the hand or knee), or as the faithful did bishops (on the hand), and as did Christian friends, both in the agora and in church as part of the liturgy, whilst the pagan Ammianus implies that the head was the most natural place to kiss friends.218 Sometimes demands on behaviour in such greetings were perceived as odious, if the respect requested was not justified. Libanius saw himself as a benevolent director of his assistant teachers, because he did not act towards them as did Ulpianus, a predecessor: ‘As soon as he made his appearance, everyone of them had to jump up from their chairs, stream towards him at the double and escort him, and only return to their seats at a sign from him; they could not look him in the face, but with bowed head they had to acknowledge his pre-eminence’. At the same time, attempts to dispense with such formalities by a senior party might feel mildly disgusting 214  Salutation of patron in street: by bakers: Lib. Or. 2.6; bystanders for governors: see n. 157 (Tisamenus). 215  Respect shown by lesser party: by greeting first: Lib. Or. 18.156, Amm. Marc. 22.7.3 (shown by Julian to a philosopher and a rhetor); by standing up: Lib. Or. 22.38 (General Ellebichus to Antiochenes); Lib. Or. 3.13 (students to teacher). 216  Descent from horse or carriage: governor (at Antioch) Lib. Or. 46.40; emperor Leo I descending for holy man: also V. Dan. 49–50; general Priscus, in the closing years of Maurice, caused upset by not descending from his horse when arriving in camp at Monocarton, Syria: Theophylact Simocatta 3.1.8, with PLRE 3.1052–57 Priscus 6. 217  Eyes on the ground: to show respect to governors and generals: Lib. Or. 2.9; by modest women, who avoid gaze to men: Amb. Off. 1.18(68); Jer. Ep. 22.27 (as an ideal of humility); students to teacher: Lib. Or. 43.6 (gaze should show respect). 218  Disrespect, shown by failure to stand up: Socrates Hist. eccl. 6.11; Sozom. Hist. eccl. 8.10 (concerning Severian of Gabala at Cple, last years of 4th c.); failure to greet: Procop. Pers. 2.163 (Ostrogothic Italy); aloofness and rigidity: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Tim 11.3 (PG 62.557) (‘stiffening his neck’, at Antioch / Cple); Lib. Or. 62.11 (Cple); Amm. Marc. 16.10.10 (Constantius at Rome). Kisses: see next footnote.

195 to those present. Ammianus recorded his disapproval of Julian’s behaviour at Constantinople, on two occasions: the emperor had attended a consular inauguration on foot; he had also leapt up during a meeting of the Senate, to run to the vestibule to greet and kiss the philosopher Maximus. The former action was seen as ‘affected and cheap’ by some, whilst the latter was ‘undignified’ and must have resulted from the emperor ‘forgetting himself’ entirely. Inevitably such gaffes in greeting would have been an important component of interaction with patronal processions. The late 4th c. Historia Augusta reports or invents an attempt by Elagabalus (reigned 218–222) to regulate precedence and the order of greeting amongst matrons (which included offering a kiss), but only to criticise it: likely rules governing rituals of interpersonal salutation remained unwritten, despite the great importance that these moments had in defining relationships. Even children were aware of the importance of not omitting those present: according to a 3rd c. schoolbook, they not only greeted their teacher on entering into class, but also their fellow pupils.219 My portrait of the daily street processions of the powerful does of course need to be nuanced. The number of daily processions seen in a city would probably have been proportional to the number of patrons residing in it and their necessity to compete. As such, it is unsurprising that the most intense street performances we know of came from the capitals, from Constantinople and especially Rome, where Ammianus was so marked by what he saw. Large regional centres such as Antioch and Alexandria would not have been far behind. Here, it is obvious from episodes recorded by Libanius, and from accounts of the death of Hypatia, that governors and 219  Inappropriate ostentation or modesty in greetings: Lib. Or. 36.10 (transl. Norman (2000) 129), with PLRE 1.973 Ulpianus 1; Amm. Marc. 22.7.1–4, with PLRE 1.583–84 Maximus 21. Regulation of greetings for women: SHA Heliog. 4.4. Children greet with kiss parents, teacher, and friends: Colloquium Monacensia 4. Children greet with kiss parents, teacher, and friends: Colloquium Monacensia 4. Children greet fellow students as well as teacher: Colloquium Leidense 3. Adults also greeting common friends with a kiss in the agora: Cyr. Hierosol. Catech. 23.3 (PG 33.1112). Kisses in church as part of church liturgy: Joh. Chrys. Hom in 2 Cor. 30.2 (PG 61.604) and Cyril as previously, but amongst sexes, not between them, in Apostolic Constitutions 2.57. Emperor Julian kisses philosopher Maximus on greeting him, behaviour thought inappropriate by Ammianus 22.7.3 (AD 362, Constantinople). Greeting a patron by kissing hand or knee (easy to envisage if the patron was seated on a dias): Ammianus 28.4.10. Kissing a patron on the mouth as part of New Year celebrations, before receiving a coin: Asterius Amas. Hom. 4 (PG 40.218). Greeting a bishop by kissing his hand: Sid. Apol. Ep. 8.11.3 (ca. 480). Bishop Ambrose refuses to accept kiss from usurper Maximus on greeting in consistory in Trier: Amb. Ep. 24.3 (AD 387 to emp. Valentinian) (not seen in Latin). Head as natural place for kiss, but not for Roman patrons: Ammianus 28.4.10.

196 bishops might find themselves upstaged in the street by rich patrons. Nevertheless, in ordinary provincial capitals, this scenario seems unlikely; here a small number of families would have competed for prominence, in the shadow of the episcopal court and the governor’s officium. In minor urban centres, where intermarriage between rich families from neighbouring cities had seen leading families move away, there might be no resident elite, and thus little secular street display at all. Funeral Processions Whilst processions of wealthy patrons took place on a daily basis, there were also a number of special occasions whereby the display of family status was manifested in the street. These included processions for marriages and funerals.220 As Roman death rates were high, funeral processions were likely to have been a regular occurrence. These were perhaps confined to adults, as none are recorded for children, with the exception of a grand cortege for two Merovingian princes.221 Poor people likely had no more than a bier carried by family and neighbours, although it is wrong to assume they had no ceremony at all. When the peniless Symeon the Fool died in his hut at Emesa, where he had prepared his own rough resting place, two neighbours carried him out to burial: there were no human psalms, although a third heard heavenly voices singing them for him. Elsewhere, ecclesiastical attempts to provide free funerals (discussed below) must have extended to people like Symeon.222 Although the Early Roman funeral procession has been studied, it is important not simply to assume continuity. Rather, we must try to establish, from late antique sources, exactly how similar or different late antique customs were. This was a collective ritual that involved not only family and friends but potentially entire neighbourhoods, as the obligation to follow a funeral cortege was widely felt: at Edessa, in 500/501, those returning from a collective funeral procession for famine victims then ‘accompanied the funeral of those who had died in his own neighbourhood’.223 Occasionally, a whole city might be involved, as on the deaths of bishops and emperors. It should also be noted that almost all funeral processions described from the period were for Christians, although the appearance of the cortege 220  Funeral processions, in Republican and Early Imperial Rome: Toynbee (1971) 46–48; Bodel (1999) and Arce (2000b). 221  For children: Gregory of Tours Hist. 3.18 (on a bier with psalms at Paris, AD 524), PLRE 3.526 Guntharius, and 3.1113 Theudobald. 222  Funeral ‘procession’ of a pauper, Emesa: v. Sym. part 4 (p. 168). 223  As collective rituals: at Antioch, Libanius obliged to follow corteges: Or. 34.22–23 (when school master, so after 354 but before 387 when written); at Edessa: Josh. Styl. 43 (AD 500/501).

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remained geared as much to social display as to religious values, even in the eastern capital in the 6th c.224 The route of the procession was essentially the same as it had been earlier: from the house, through the streets of the city, to inhumation in a burial ground beyond the city limits. There was a growing tendency to focus on a church: for example, prominent lay Christians were buried at St. Peter’s in Rome from the 4th c. onwards. However, extramural burials were still the norm in Justinian’s Constantinople, though archaeology confirms intramural burial in many places during the early medieval transition of the 6th–8th c.225 Biers would naturally pass along the main colonnaded streets, and would have had little choice of exit in any walled city with gates. The desire of some to pass through, the agora suggests that the route of the procession might be designed to increase visibility, in order to allow a show of the wealth of the deceased and the strength of his or her following, as well as of the identity of the heir.226 This habit was reinforced by a new tendency to undertake such processions during the daytime: whether this was the influence of Christianity is uncertain, as Libanius joined such processions regularly and St. Martin of Tours encountered one during sunlit hours in the countryside.227 Julian thought the habit was an unfortunate 224  Studies of late antique funerals: see especially Rebillard (2009) of which 131–34 deals with processions, with Burman (2004), Cameron (2002), and Matthews (2009). See also the edition of Greg. Nyss. V. Macr. by Maraval (1971). 225  Route, ending with burials in churches: Cantino Wataghin (1999) 159–63, who also discusses intra-mural burial. For Justinianic Cple, see Just. Nov. 59.6 (AD 537). Burials of urban prefect Junius Bassus and praetorian prefect Petronius Probus at St. Peter’s, Rome: (for Probus, d. AD 388) see PLRE 1.736–40 Sex. Claudius Petronius Probus 5; Matthews (2009) 133–36 with AE (1953) 239 and Cameron (2002); (for Bassus, d. AD 331) PLRE 1.154–55 Iunius Bassus 14 and ILCV 63 = CIL 6.1756b (pp. 855, 4752) = CIL 6.31922b = CLE 1347 = ILCV 63 = ICUR 2.4219 = AE (1999) 198 = AE (2004) 192 = AE (2008) 91 (for Probus); Macrina (Pontus, d. 379, shortly after Synod of Antioch) from monastery (where resident) to a church: Greg. Nyss. V. Macr. 34, with Lumpe (1993a); Monica (Ostia, d. 387 in Bezzenberger (1993)) from house to tomb: August. Conf. 9.12 (epitaph was discovered at St. Aurea, outside the city: Anth. Lat. 1.670, commented by Boin (2010)). 226  Route, passing through agora: at Antioch: Lib. Or. 2.36 (generic, but given in AD 380/81); in Near East: Euseb. Hist. eccl. 9.8.11: lamentation ‘in every lane and market place’; Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 2 Thessal. 1.2 (PG 62.471) (between edict of toleration (AD 311) and death of Maxminus Daia in 313); at Caesarea in Cappadocia (Basil, d. AD 379, Bautz (1990b)), which Gregory described but did not witness, see Greg. Naz. Or. 43.80. 227  Daytime funeral processions, at Antioch: Libanius joined them during school time (Or. 34.22–23), which was in the morning (Or. 58.8–9 and Ep. 25.7); another took place at dawn: Or. 1.174; in Gaul: pagan rural funeral procession, in daylight, Sulp. Sev. V. Mart. 12; at Vercelli: burial before sunset, even if no actual procession is recorded: Jer. Ep. 1.12; at Nicomedia

Street Processions

innovation, and that the streets should not be the scene of such mourning in daylight: he banned them during his stay in Antioch. This is not to say that burials by night ceased, even for Christians. At Constantinople, the funerals of both Constantius II and bishop Meletius, a few years before Julian enacted his measure at Antioch, seem to have been at night: descriptions mention nocturnal chants and the spectacular impression created by torches / lamps. Gregory of Nazianzus also expected a typical Christian funeral to take place during the hours of darkness. At Milan, we have a different pattern: for the funeral of Ambrose, the procession began at dawn, after the Eucharist had been celebrated, from a church where the body had lain, to the Ambrosian Basilica. Quite what happened in other western cities is uncertain.228 The funeral cortege was set around the bier of the deceased, which was carried on the shoulders of eight men at Constantinople, in Justinian’s day. The bier might be decorated: Justinian refers to two precious biers of Studius (gloriosus) and Stephen (magnificentissimus), and a gilded bier— all of which were available for hire for funerals conducted by the clergy of Constantinople— for fees of 10 and 24 solidi respectively. A golden coffin was used to carry Constantine through Constantinople, but this was of course exceptional.229 In most cases, even for the wealthy, the bier seems to have been open, with layers of cloth draped over the body. We might expect a coffin only to have been used if the deceased needed to be moved some distance. A simple linen shroud seems to be the most usual covering: the inhabitants of Edessa thought it fit for a martyr in the early 4th c.; Gallic peasants used it in the early 5th c. At Alexandria, in the early 7th c., linen was the under-sheet over which finer coverings were laid. In Pontus, Gregory of Nyssa gave his sister a shroud of the same material, again covered by other garments.230 We have a fine description of the pall of Justinian, which was embroidered with purple, during the earthquake of AD 358, Ephr. Hymn 7.109, 7.125–40 (PO 37.101–102), has the funeral processions taking place at the 3rd hour of the day. 228   Night-time funeral processions: at Antioch, Julian bans daytime funerals: Julian Ep. 56; at Cple, nocturnal chants for Constantius: Greg. Naz. Or. 5.16, taken as typical of a Christian funeral by Gregory; Greg. Nyssa Melet. (PG 46.861), noting that lamps make rivers of fire. Dawn funeral procession: at Milan: Paul. V. Amb. 48.1 (along with pagans, for Ambrose) from CSA 894 (from which I saw the text). 229  Biers: carried by eight men: implication of Just. Nov. 59.3(1); for hire: Just. Nov. 59.6 (AD 537); Constantine’s golden coffin (λάρνακα = urn): Euseb. Vit. Const. 4.66, 4.70. 230  Linen cloths: at Edessa: Martyrdom of Habbib the Deacon 38 (AD 308/309 on Macedonian year); in Gaul: Sulp. Sev. V. Mart. 12 (bishop 371–97) PCBE 4.2.1267–79 Martinvs 1 (bishop AD 371/72–397); at Alexandria: Joh. Moschus 77; in Pontus: Greg. Nyss. V. Macr. 32 (linen, covered by a dark robe).

197 gold, and jewels, depicting his conquests and defeated enemies. That of Blæsilla, a wealthy friend of Jerome, was a cloth of gold.231 Gregory of Nyssa implies that fine textiles were used for eminent people, who might acquire such items years earlier and store them for their funeral.232 Silk is also known. Ammianus mentions the wearing of this material in processions as being most appropriate for one’s funeral, perhaps reflecting the tastes of the elite in larger cities.233 On the deaths of holy men, members of the public might try to touch the textiles covering the body. In the case of Meletius, bishop of Antioch, mourners went so far as to take napkins binding the face to use as amulets, suggesting that the face was exposed. Attempts by the crowds to touch the robes of Basil during his funeral procession resulted in a number of fatalities. The crowds mourning Ambrose sought to touch the body with their own items of clothing, for some benefit.234 Those accompanying the bier took different positions according to their status. The crowds came behind the cortege. In the Near East, Eusebius mentions the noise of flutes, likely played by professional mourners, and the sound of blows (to the body?), as part of funeral processions under Maximinus Daia. Into the 5th c., female mourners were hired to announce the arrival of the cortege by weeping, lamenting and chanting. Their desolate presentation of death was hated by bishops, though these mourners were sometimes invited to join Christian funeral processions, a habit which John Chrysostom tried to ban. Yet, at Edessa in 500/501, women still took part, ‘with mournful lamentation and emotional cries’. They are attested at Gaza, in the reign of Justinian, again the subject of an episcopal ban. Here they were definitely professional mourners: one of their number ‘knowing her art well, causes louder cries and requests an abundance of tears from [the other] pitiful women’. Even in 6th c. Hispania and Gaul, at funerals of major public figures, crowds of sympathetic women might adopt mourning dress, as if for their own relatives. Clearly, ecclesiastical attempts to remove female mourners outside of the family from funerals had not entirely succeeded. The payment of female hermits and nuns to attend processions (probably to sing psalms), in 6th c. 231  Pall, at Cple (Justinian): Corippus Laud. Just. 1.275–92; at Rome (Blæsilla): Jer. Ep. 39.1; in Pontus (Macrina) and at Alexandria: see previous note. 232  Storing clothes for a funeral: Greg. Nyss. V. Macr. 28. 233  Silk appropriate for funeral: Amm. Marc. 28.4.8. 234  Public touching clothing of deceased: Greg. Naz. Or. 43.80 (Basil of Caesarea d. 379) see n. 226; taking napkins (σουδάρια) from face in procession at Cple: Greg. Nyss. Melet. (PG 46.861) (Meletius of Antioch d. 381, during council of Constantinople); touching body with own clothes: Paul. V. Amb. 48.1 (Ambrose d. 397) from CSA 894 (from which I saw the text).

198 Constantinople, suggests practices were Christianised by slow change or substitution. Pagan songs may have disappeared, but grief was still displayed in a theatrical manner, encouraged and perhaps led by women who were not close relatives.235 Preceding the bier was the heir, as described for funerals in the 4th c. and 6th c. The heir was now arranged in a similar position to the steward who stood at the front of daily processions of the wealthy, in Rome and elsewhere.236 Around the bier was usually an escort of domestic servants, slave or free, who might wail or carry candles. These groups participated in Christian funerals, from late 4th / early 5th c. Africa, Antioch and Pontus, to 6th c. Constantinople.237 In the latter city, slaves who had been freed in the will of the deceased, or by the heir, would wear the ‘liberty cap’ (pileus) and parade in front of the cortege. The custom survived also in the West: the freeing of slaves who participated in the funeral service was a practice recognised by the Council of Paris in 566– 73. Gregory of Tours’ account of a miracle during the funeral procession of bishop Germanus in the same city, in 576, is also instructive: the body became heavy when prisoners called out to it, as the cortege passed by; when the prisoners were released, the body became light again, and the funeral party could proceed. Sometimes, slaves were dressed up as freedmen, though they had not in fact been granted their liberty. Rather, they were being used to convince onlookers of the liberality of the deceased. Justinian legislated against this abuse, which was also addressed by the Parisian council.238 In the 235  Women (mourners): Near East: Euseb. Hist. eccl. 9.8.11; Antioch / Cple: Joh. Chrys. Hom in Mt. 31.4 (PG 57.374) disapproves of bringing in ‘heathen women’ who ‘kindle … feelings and stir up the furnace’ (presumably by singing dirges), which he bans at Hom. in Heb. 4.6 (PG 63.44); commented by Rebillard (2009) 131–33; at Edessa, (AD 500/501) in Josh. Styl. 43; at Gaza, (during reign of Justinian): Choricius Or. 8.53–54 (banned by bishop). Mourning dress in 6th c. at Soissons: Gregory of Tours Hist. 5.34 (lucubribus vestimentis), for funeral of Chilperic’s son Chlodobert (d. 580, PLRE 3.297 Chlodobertus), also suggested at Zaragoza (AD 542) by 3.29. For female hermits or nuns attending funerary processions in 6th c. at Cple see Just. Nov. 59.5 (AD 537). 236  Heirs walking before the bier: Julian: Lib. Or. 18.120–21 (for Constantius, Cple AD 361/62); Egyptian bishop (6th c.): Anastasius of Sinai Tales of the Sinai Fathers 1.16 (Greek not seen). 237   Servants escort the bier: in Africa (August. Serm. 102.3 (PL 38.612)); at Antioch, both male and female (Joh. Chrys. Hom. ad pop. Ant. 3.4 (PG 49.52); in Pontus (Greg. Nyss. V. Macr. 34), when the servants (ὑπηρετῶν—which Maraval would like to be ‘clercs inférieurs’ rather than servants) and deacons surrounding the bier carried wax tapers (κηροῦ λαμπάδας); in Cple: see next footnote. 238  Freedmen, freed in the deceased’s will wear the liberty cap and march in front of the funeral procession of their former master at Cple: Cod. Iust. 7.6.1.5 (AD 531); at Paris: C. Paris III Canon 9; at Paris, (AD 576), at funeral of bishop Germanus:

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laws of Justinian, we also hear of candle-bearing acolytes, normally three in number, who surrounded the bier. For the emperor’s own funeral, we hear that the candle holders were of silver.239 Of the identity of those carrying the corpse, we have a few details. Libanius says that his teachers carried biers in funeral processions at Antioch, in the later 4th c., whilst the epitaph of the Christian urban prefect Junius Bassus signo Theotecnius boasts that the crowds competed to carry his bier in 359: they prevented his servants / slaves ( famulis domini, presumably here liberti) from doing so.240 For all later Christian funerals, we hear of clergy undertaking this service, as in the funeral of Macrina in Pontus (four are mentioned) and for that of Paula, the friend of Jerome, at Jerusalem. Synesius suggests clergy had some role in funerals, ca. 400; he asked his fellow bishops not to escort the funerals of the governor Andronicus and his associates, who had been excommunicated, in the event of their death. Jerome also records after an execution at Vercelli, in Italy during the mid 4th c., after which the clergy both covered the body and buried it in the grave they had dug, as was their duty; it is thus likely they also carried it. At Constantinople, in the 6th c., the carrying of the bier was undertaken by eight clergy, either priests or monks (the assisterium), a service which Anastasius and Justinian sought to ensure was provided for free. This concern was echoed at Ephesus around the same time in an inscribed public letter of bishop Hypatius, who insisted that the Church offer funerals free of charge. According to Justinian’s law, when not being used, an assisterium processed behind the body. The text records that some might wish to hire supplementary assisteria in order to make a show. Such evidence for ostentation perhaps explains why one creditor, recalled in the same legislation, refused to allow a bier to appear in the street until the debts of the deceased man had been paid, an act which thoroughly annoyed the reforming emperor.241 Gregory of Tours Hist. 5.8 PCBE 4.1.884–94 Germanvs 3 (d. AD 576). 239  Acolytes bearing candles: Cod. Iust. 7.6.1.5 (AD 531); Just. Nov. 59.5 (AD 537); Corippus, Laud. Just.3.8–9, 3.39 (Justinian’s funeral, (AD 565), Cple). 240  Bier carriers, non-clergy: teachers (διδάσκαλοι) in late 4th c. Antioch: Lib. Or. 34.23; crowds (rather than famulis domini) in Rome (AD 359): see Junius Bassus epitaph, above n. 225. 241  Bier carriers, clergy: in Pontus: Greg. Nyss. V. Macr. 32 with Lumpe (1993a) (AD 379, Gregory, a bishop and two priests carry the bier); in Cyrenaica: Syn. Ep. 42 (συμπροπέμψουσιν, AD 411); at Jerusalem: Jer. Ep. 108.30 (AD 404, bishops carry bier) PCBE 2.1617–26 Paula 1; in Cyrenaica: Syn. Ep. 3 (ca. AD 400); at Vercelli?: Jer. Ep. 1.12 (mid 4th c. see n. 171); at Cple: Just. Nov. 59.5–6 (AD 537), (mentioning Anastasius and regulation of expenses, with story of creditor); at Ephesus, bishop Hypatius (PCBE 3.457–69 Hypatios 4 (AD 519–540/41)): IvE 7.4135

Street Processions

By accompanying the corpse itself, the clergy and their acolytes were making some impact, in adding Christian layers to the rite. Their handling of the body was perhaps encouraged by the late antique conception of holiness, as something quite physical in its qualities. This act allowed them to constitute the core of the funeral cortege, and thus (in theory) impose halts, determine the route, or keep mourners away from the corpse itself. Even if the clergy were not involved in all 4th to early 5th c. funeral processions, they seem to have become important by the 6th c., if the funerals alluded to in Justinian’s legislation are representative: nuns were present and are thus likely to have added a further Christian element, through their singing. A change in atmosphere would have surely accompanied the involvement of so many members of the clergy, and the exclusion of traditional wailers where this was achieved. Grief was most acceptable when coming from close family members. According to Choricius of Gaza, one could expect fathers, children, and mothers to pull their hair, lament, and wail. Gregory of Tours remarked that the sight of women ‘weeping and wailing … with their hair flowing free and with ashes on their heads’ was more appropriate for the funerals of their own husbands, than to a supplicatory ritual which it was part of.242 This exhibition and acceptance of the grief of the family was a long-standing part of funeral processions. Chrysostom remarks that his congregation often saw ‘a dead body carried through the market-place, orphan children following it, a widow beating her breast, servants bewailing, friends looking dejected …’ Here, he appears to reveal to us the relative position of family members within the cortege, slightly ahead of the servants / slaves, who were themselves part of the familia, but not among those privileged to carry or walk before the bier, as could those who were being freed under the terms of the will. The presence of servants was no doubt of practical use, in case anyone was overcome by grief, as was the mother of Jerome’s friend Blæsilla, who fainted. But Chrysostom imagined an ideal Christian funeral at which all family members, down to great-grandchildren, might attend.243 Some of the ‘friends’ who followed the family group were undoubtedly clients, reflecting the order of daily processions of (living) wealthy patrons in 4th c. Rome. (funerals must be free); (Feissel (1999) 132 no. 28, found in the atrium of the church of St. Mary, dated by F. to ca. 530–40). 242  Professional mourners excluded: see n. 235 above. Family mourning at Gaza: Choricius Or. 8.27, 8.53. Mourning women at Zaragoza: Gregory of Tours Hist. 3.29. 243  Family, servants, friends following body: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 2 Thessal. 1.2 (PG 62.471). Mother overcome: Jer. Ep. 39.6. Children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Heb. 4.6 (PG 63.44).

199 Augustine is explicit, describing clients following after servants, though he does not list as many types of participant as Chrysostom.244 Other ‘friends’ were either peers or individuals of high status. Libanius followed daytime funerals as a habit, suspending school to do so. The parents of his pupils complained. In his defence, Libanius stated that this was common practice for governors, or at least ex-governors. At Edessa in 500, a governor and all the free-born attended a procession led by the bishop, for a public funeral of plague victims. For the latter occasion, the city authorities clearly wanted to make a public statement, though only the bishop is described as being ‘in their head / top / beginning’. A forward position in the cortege is also known for distinguished lay friends in other funerals. Jerome notes that, at Rome in 384 or 385, ‘people of rank headed the procession’, for his rich friend Blæsilla. Valens, at Antioch, honoured his favourite astrologer by obliging honorati, including two former consuls, to parade in front of the body, a gesture which Ammianus found intolerable. The same honour was given by Theodosius I himself to the Gothic king Athanaric at Constantinople in 381. In the last two cases, we can be sure that distinguished friends definitely walked at the head of cortege rather than behind the family. Quite what message they sought to convey by doing so is difficult to decipher: did they intend to show support for an heir or suggest dependent status like one of the patron’s freedmen, or like retainers walking before a magistrate? On other occasions we do not know the position of honorati but their presence was significant: at Gaza, in the reign of Justinian, the funeral of the mother of the bishop ca. 518 was attended by men of illustrious rank, including the authorities of the neighbouring cities, who seem to have participated in a procession which ‘emptied’ the city, according to Choricius.245 Unlike in earlier centuries, the dress code for funerals seems to have excluded white, which had once been worn, at least by women. For Sidonius Apollinaris of 244  Clients: August. Serm. 102.3 (PL 38.612); Amm. Marc. 14.6.16–17. 245  Honorati: at Antioch: Libanius and ex-governors following funerals: Lib. Or. 34.22 (governors follow funerals up to the day of their death), given after AD 387/88, but before 392/93; at Edessa: Josh. Styl. 43 (AD 500/501), on which I am grateful to J. Watt for a revised translation, noting that the published translation suggests the governor and company are with the bishop ‘with him’; the revised ‘with them’ suggests they were in the procession, not leading it, which only the bishop is recorded doing; at Rome: Blæsilla’s procession headed by people of rank (nobilium ordine praeeunte): Jer. Ep. 39.1, with PLRE 1.162 Blæsilla 2, PCBE 2.310–11 Blæsilla (died AD 384 or 385); at Antioch (or so the narrative implies) for Heliodorus the astrologer: Amm. Marc. 29.2.15, (d. after treason trials of 371–72 and before King Pap’s death in 374); at Cple: (Theodosius for Athanaric): Jordanes Get. 28 (144), PLRE 1.120–21 Athanaricus (d. AD 381, Cple); at Gaza, (after AD 518): Choricius Or. 7.13.

200 Clermont / Arvernis 474/75, wearing white at a funeral was a faux pas of the nouveau riche. A century or so earlier, the only white clothing visible in a funeral procession in the Gallic countryside was the linen covering the body of the deceased.246 Failure to wear mourning dress within the family could be seen as shocking, as it was for Synesius, when a niece refused to change out of her pre-nuptial costume on the death of her uncle, out of fear of creating a bad omen. At Rome, senators took off their (normally white) togas to mourn the urban prefect Junius Bassus in 359, perhaps replacing them with saga (traditional mourning garments), as Al. Cameron suggests. At Constantinople, the Book of Ceremonies also describes senators changing out of their white chlamydes (appropriate for imperial ceremony) into coloured ones, inside the Great Church, to attend the funeral of bishop Sergius in 638. This ritual was a protocol which supposedly followed the form of funerals of earlier patriarchs, in 606 and 610. More often, funerary dress seems to have been far simpler. In the same city in 381, Gregory of Nyssa talks of people wearing sackcloth and black garments for the funeral of bishop Meletius. This is what people wore in the ‘funereal’ supplicatory procession at Zaragoza in 542, the men in hair shirts and the women in black. At Antioch, John Chrysostom noted that both the servants and the horses of rich men were dressed in sackcloth, leading their funeral processions.247 Modifications of personal appearance were common in funeral processions. At Constantinople, Julian walked before the bier of Constantius not only clothed in mourning dress, but also without a diadem. At Antioch, the honorati, mourning for Valens’ astrologer, were obliged to walk with uncovered heads and bare feet. Chrysostom, Corripus, and Gregory of Tours observe that women might tear their clothes, loosen their hair in grief, and even cover themselves in ashes.248 It 246  Dress at funerals: white (καθαραῖς) for participants in procession: e.g. Plut. Aem. 3.24 (d. 160 BC), but otherwise dark mourning clothes, except for women who wore white / light (λευκάς) clothing in the Early Empire: Herodian 4.2 (with senators wearing black μελαίναις); see Smith (1875) for a still useful collection of sources, including the non-white dress of family male members; not white: Sid. Apoll. Ep. 5.7.4 (AD 474–75); white linen on corpse only: Sulp. Sev. V. Mart. 12. 247  Dress, at funerals: family in mourning dress: Greg. Naz. Or. 5.17; Syn. Ep. 3 (implied); senators changing clothes: Junius Bassus epitaph, as above n. 225 (out of togas); Cer. 2.30 (coloured chlamydes); sackcloth: Greg. Nyss. Melet. (PG 46.853) (σάκκος); hair shirts: Gregory of Tours Hist. 3.29 (induti ciliciis, also using ashes); Joh. Chrys. Hom. ad pop. Ant. 3.4 (PG 49.52) (σάκκῳ) for servants (male and female), mules and horses; black robe (for preacher): Greg. Nyss. Melet. (PG 46.853) (μελανειμονοῡντες). 248  Dress modification: without diadem: Greg. Naz. Or. 5.17; bare heads and feet: Amm. Marc. 29.2.15; women, tearing clothes / loosening hair: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Jo. 62.4 (PG 59.316);

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is important to note that we have no indication of status display in the dress of those following the bier: this was apparently inappropriate. The carrying of torches / lamps and especially candles is widely mentioned, as is the burning of incense, and in one case perfumes, which were sprinkled on the coffin and on the crowds watching the burial of St. Simeon the Elder at Antioch in 459, according to his biographer.249 The singing of religious melodies seems to have become important, especially of psalms, which are widely attested, but other ‘hymns and spiritual songs’ are mentioned at Edessa in 500/501.250 We hear of designated choirs singing in the funeral processions of Paula in Jerusalem and Justinian in the eastern capital. For Paula, singing was in Latin, Greek, and Syriac.251 A number of authors represent the ideal that Christian funerals should not only be modest but ought to be sober, positive affairs, in which no tears were shed and in which psalms were sung, reflecting hope in the Resurrection.252 Yet even for the pious, weeping was not far away. Augustine describes how he painfully repressed his own feelings for his mother, in order to return without tears from her burial. Yet the funeral processions of Macrina, Basil, and Blæsilla degenerated, as psalms gave way to unchecked lamentation, often coming from those external to the core group. In 565, Corippus reports universal tears around the emperor Justinian’s cortege, as if they were entirely appropriate.253 It seems that the presCorippus Laud. Just. 3.46 (funeral of Justinian); Gregory of Tours Hist. 3.29 (also using ashes). 249  Lamps, candles, and torches: Greg. Nyss. Melet. (PG 46.861) mentions torches / lights (λαμπάδων); Jer. Ep. 108.29 mentions torches / lights and candles (lampadas cereosque); Just. Nov. 59.5 (AD 537) (cereos); Corippus, Laud. Just. 3.10. 3.38 (ceras / ceris); Greg. Naz. Or. 5.16 (PG 35.686) mentions torchbearing (δᾳδουχίαις). Incense (as sign of respect rather than against smells): Syriac Life of St Simeon the Elder p. 641 (with perfumes also, though I was not able to check the Syriac); Corippus Laud. Just. 3.54. 250  Psalms: at Cple (for Constantius II, but presented as typical of Christian practice): Greg Naz. Or. 5.16; at Rome (for Fabiola, d. 399 or 400): Jer. Ep. 77.11, PCBE 2.734–35 Fabiola 1; at Alexandria (early 7th c.): Joh. Moschus 77; at Edessa (AD 500/501): ‘Psalms and hymns and spiritual songs that were full of the hope of the resurrection’ Josh. Styl. 43; at Antioch, (AD 549): Syriac Life of St. Simeon the Elder p. 641, a text which I am not able to read in its original. 251  Choirs: at Cple (Justinian): Corippus, Laud. Just. 3.41 (Justinian’s funeral procession, AD 565); at Jerusalem (Paula, PLRE 1.674–75 Pavla (St.) 1, d. 404): Jer. Ep. 108.29 (singing in Greek, Latin, and Syriac). 252  Psalms not tears: August. Conf. 9.12; Greg. Nyss. V. Macr. 26–27, 33–34 (the edition of Maraval (1971) contains commentary on contemporary Christian funerals). See discussion in Rebillard (2009) 131–34. 253  Mourning and lamentation at Christian funerals: in Pontus (Macrina): Greg. Nyss. V. Macr. 34; at Caesarea (Basil): Greg. Naz. Or. 43.80; at Rome (Blæsilla): Jer. Ep. 39.6; at Cple

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ence of the clergy was a key factor in maintaining order, which could effectively be done through leading the singing of psalms. This could at least cut out theatricality and leave uncontrollable grief to the genuinely distressed. The introduction of liturgical elements seems to date from the later 4th c.: Monica’s funeral included a Eucharist at her graveside in 387. Yet, the processions of prominent Christian lay people were not effectively Christianised until the 5th c.: under Anastasius and Justinian we can see that status was strongly expressed by enhancing the liturgical ornaments of the procession, though it still contained some traditional elements.254 As the cortege passed through the city, the public had the chance to interact with it. Women, children, and old men might be present, making this a universally accessible public event.255 Some came out to stand by their doors, as a sign of respect. During the funerals of famous people, spectators looked out of upper storey windows or stood on roofs, as they might during the adventus, because streets and porticoes were full.256 The sentiments of onlookers could be mixed: Augustine tried to remind Christians depressed by the funeral parades of wicked men to keep their nerve, whilst the Pratum Spirituale of ca. 600, recalls how a rich cortege at Alexandria attracted a thief, who followed the group to a tomb before attempting to strip the corpse. The same text describes a similar incident at Antioch, whereby just the news of a rich funeral was enough to make a robber set off to look for the grave. In each case, the violated corpses came back to life to attack their despoilers, although at Alexandria this only occurred when the last linen sheet (and not the rich garments over it) was removed. The thief had hesitated to take it, revealing that even grave-robbers understood that the outer garments were for show, whilst the linen shroud was a mark of basic dignity.257 The mourning crowds who surrounded the cortege of Basil of Caesarea had more complex intentions: Gregory reports that different groups, including Jews, sought to (Justinian) tears during funeral procession: Corippus Laud. Just. 3.43–44. 254  Introduction of liturgical elements: Eucharist at graveside for Monica: August. Conf. 9.12; see Rebillard (2009) 134–38 on this topic. For processions where wealth was exhibited in both liturgical and traditional elements, 6th c., see: Just. Nov. 59 (AD 537), 60 (AD 537), Cod. Iust. 7.6.1.5 (AD 531). 255  Women, children, and old men present: at Rome: (Junius Bassus) epitaph discussed by Cameron (2002); at Cple (Constantine) Euseb. Vit. Const. 4.67 (women and children). 256  Spectators: standing by doors: Corippus, Laud. Just. 3.47. This as a sign of respect: V. Dan 78, 80; in upper storey windows: Corippus, Laud. Just. 3.48; streets (plateae), porticoes, roofs: full, of the multitude who attend the funeral of Fabiola at Rome in Jer. Ep. 77.11. 257  Feelings of onlookers: August. Serm. 102(52).2 (PL 38.611); thieves: Joh. Moschus 77–78 (Alexandria and Antioch).

201 outdo each other in their public displays of mourning: ‘Our own people vied with strangers, Jews, Greeks, and foreigners, and they with us, for a greater share in the benefit, by means of a more abundant lamentation’. Perhaps they, along with the servants who guarded the bier, had something to gain from competitive mourning, when a new generation was about to take over a prominent family, in the form of a grateful heir, although in this case the heir was likely the Church, making the dynamics of their petitions far more complex. The histrionic gestures of senators, recorded above for the funeral of Junius Bassus, may also have had a political object. The writer of Bassus’ funerary inscription seemed to revel in the spectacle, and in the crowds of mothers, children, and old men who grieved on that occasion, as if it was an obvious mark of status for the deceased.258 Libanius, as the leading Greek orator of his city, perhaps sometimes gained something from regularly following funeral processions. It is possible that families asked him for an impromptu funeral eulogy, such as that with which he had honoured Zenobius, his predecessor in the civic school at Antioch. He would have been provided with an opportunity to acquire grateful clients. More overt advancements of personal interest were possible: in 6th c. Constantinople, Christian acolytes and pallbearers charged for wax tapers and the carrying of the bier, much to Justinian’s discomfort.259 Thus, the dynamics of public funerals were as complex as those of any other public ceremony, despite the distinctively mournful nature of the occasion. The motives of the crowds could extend beyond veniality, however. The presence of Jews, Samaritans, and sometimes of pagans, in funeral processions of prominent Christians is notable. Such mixed crowds are recorded at Edessa in 308/309 (for Habbib the Deacon), at Caesarea in Cappadocia in 379 (for Basil), at Milan in 397 (for Ambrose, within the procession, after the baptised), at Edessa in 434/36 (for Rabbula, outside the church), near Gaza in 489 (for Peter the Iberian), and at Clermont / Arvernis in 551 (for bishop Gallus), suggesting that major funerals could count as public events for the whole city. These were times when demonstrations of solidarity were welcomed and remembered, as metaphorical stitches in the fabric of the civic community.260 258  Competitive lamentation: Greg. Naz. Or. 43.80; Junius Bassus epitaph, as above n. 255. 259  Motivations of participants: rhetors: Lib. Or. 1.105 (PLRE 1.991 Zenobius), had not wanted to vacate his seat to Libanius, making Libanius’ elaborate mourning for him an important if empty part of his succession, as this text reveals); bier-bearers and acolytes: Just. Nov. 59.5 (AD 537). 260  Jews in funeral processions of Christian figures: Martyrdom of Habbib the Deacon 38a (along with pagans (AD 308/309 on Macedonian year); Paul. V. Amb. 48.1 (along with pagans, for Ambrose) from CSA 894 (from which I saw the text); Greg.

202 Wedding Processions For wedding processions we have only a few sources, which do not permit a very full reconstruction, certainly not as full as for weddings in Late Republican and Early Imperial Rome.261 As noted earlier, some sources are literary epithalamia, mainly from the later 4th to 5th c. West, composed to honour a wedding which the author may not have witnessed. Alternatively, they may have been written beforehand, to be read at the celebration. These writings on their own might not seem to provide a very firm basis to talk about actual weddings, despite the details they include.262 But other types of texts furnish passing references to contemporary wedding behaviour which are more likely to be historic. In this latter category, we find remarks by Chrysostom, Julian, and Libanius, relating to cultural practices centred on Antioch. We might also take factual details (on Milan) from works of Claudian, of which only two (out of four) useful texts are actually wedding orations. His Epithalamium and Fescennine Verses of Claudian contain specific details, unlike similar texts, and read like descriptions from memory of the famous marriages they commemorate. Other authors also make incidental comments about the wedding processions of ‘other people’ that are of interest. We have, for example, remarks from a letter by Synesius relating to Cyrenaica. To this late 4th early 5th c. cluster of material can also be added epithalamia from Vandal Africa and Gaza during the reign of Justinian, and the description of an imperial wedding in the later 6th c., recorded in Evagrius’ Ecclesiastical History. It can be asserted that a public wedding procession, in which the bride was exhibited to the city, did survive in Mediterranean cities during Late Antiquity. This is confirmed both by Julian and by Chrysostom for Antioch and by epithalamia from: 4th c. Greece, 4th and 5th c. Gaul, 5th c. Italy and Vandal Africa, and the 6th c. Levant. Chrysostom, discussing either Constantinople or Antioch around 400, describes a bride being carried Naz. Or. 43.80 (with pagans, for Basil); Life of Rabbula 55 (AD 435/36) (not seen); Gregory of Tours V. Patrum 6.7 (for dating to 551 see James transl. (1985) p. 40, n. 23, plus PCBE 4.1.849–51 Gallvs 3, bishop (AD 525/26–51)). The latter is remarkable as it was a time of tension between Christians and Jews in Gaul: in AD 576, a later bishop of the same city, Avitus, offered the Jews of the city conversion or expulsion: Gregory of Tours, Hist. 5.11; PCBE 4.1.265–68 Avitvs 5. Samaritans for Peter the Iberian: Life of Peter the Iberian (AD 489) (not seen). 261  Wedding processions: see especially Hersch (2010) who both confirms and probes traditional scholarship on the subject, though misses Paulinus of Nola Carmen 25, with its many details. 262  Epithalamia: see Horstmann (2004) on Latin writer; Penella (2005) on Choricius of Gaza; Amato (2011–12) on Procopius of Gaza.

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around under torchlight by a semi-drunken crowd, who were intent on showing off her beauty, to the accompaniment of music and suggestive singing. According to members of Chrysostom’s congregation only ‘vulgar women’ did this, although such singing was a traditional part of Roman wedding processions. However, Choricius of Gaza writing about 150 years later, still suggests that the function of the street procession was in part to exhibit the beauty of the bride. He describes a group of three brides, travelling on mules, for a joint wedding to three student bridegrooms. Choricius’ brides blush at being shy from the attention, rather than seeking to exhibit their beauty. The implication is that most brides would want to be seen for their beauty, which is what he records crowds appreciating. Indeed, large parts of his epithalamia are dedicated to the subject. Paulinus of Nola, writing ca. 408, hoped for the demise of the wedding procession, as unfit for Christians. He despised the mob dancing through decorated streets as the parade passed, over leaves (or petals—foliis) strewn on the ground, and past thresholds decorated with branches. He thought that the bride would normally, with her ‘perfumed clothes and hair’, seek ‘recognition from men’s nostrils wherever you pass’ when ‘walking abroad’ in her wedding attire.263 Julian implies that normally a bride would be led down the main avenues in Antioch during her procession. Yet a reference in Claudian suggests that the essential movement was still that from the house of the bride to that of the bridegroom, as in earlier centuries, whilst at Gaza the bridal procession seems to have ended at the house to be inhabited by one of the three couples to be married.264 We have no evidence that churches featured within the route of public street processions for weddings. The role of churches as places of ceremony 263  Showing the beauty of the bride: Joh. Chrys. Hom in 1 Cor. 12.6 (PG 61.104), who also criticises drunkenness at Joh. Chrys. In Illud, Propter fornicationes uxorem 1.2 (PG 51.210); Choricius Or. 6.22–23 (in the reign of Justinian, Gaza); Paulinus of Nola Carmen 25.30–34, 25.83–86 (note the bride is wearing the castellated hair arrangement at this point—Turritum sedeas aedificata caput), dating shortly before AD 408, Italy, see PCBE 2.1175–86 Ivlianvs 9. Red-tipped roses appear in Himer. Or. 9.19, where married couple dance over flowers, whilst the blossom spread for Honorius and Maria was purple in Claud. Epith. 295–300. 264  Route: along main avenues (Antioch): Julian Mis. 355B; house of bride to that of bridegroom (early Rome): Treggiari (1991) 166–68; Hersch (2010) 138–44; (Late Antiquity): Claud. Epith. 202–314 describes the preparation of the home (the imperial palace where there is the feast) and the bed chamber, and the bride’s home, from where the procession will begin; Choricius Or. 6.29 ends at a house where a wedding feast then takes place (6.35, 6.46–51), which is thus likely to be the marital home of one couple, or a separate venue for this triple wedding.

Street Processions

for marriage was not really significant, except perhaps in Italy, with the development of nuptial blessings in the 4th c., sometimes taking place in a church. The holding of matrimonial masses is attested from the 5th c.265 In Gaul, at this time, blessings took place in the bridal chamber, but not as part of the main domestic ceremony, where public consent was given.266 In the 6th c. East, the house still appears as a setting for wedding celebrations, as it was in the 4th c., which clergy, like others, might attend.267 As in earlier centuries, processions were accompanied by torches, both for the weddings described by Chrysostom and for the imperial nuptials of Serena and Stilicho at Constantinople in 384, of Honorius and Maria at Milan in 393, and even of Maurice and Constantina in the eastern capital in 582.268 The use of torches does not have to imply that they occurred at night, with a wedding procession described by Choricius taking place before sunset. However, given that a meal had likely taken place inside the childhood home of the 265  Blessings in churches: nuptial blessing during Mass first attested in Rome during the pontificate of Sixtus III (AD 432–40): Praedestinatus 3.31 (PL 53.670A). Nuptial blessings without known liturgical context in 4th c.: Amb. Ep. 62.7 (CSEL 82/2.124); Siricius Ep. 1.9.13 (PL 13.1142), 7.3 (PL 13.1171); Ambrosiaster e.g. In epist. ad Cor. Primam 7.40, 11.3 (CSEL 81/2: 90 and 120). Blessings definitely in a church building (shortly before AD 408): Paulinus of Nola Carm. 25.200–201 (CSEL 30.238–45) (ante altaria); Life of Caesarius of Arles 1.59 (MGH Script. Rerum Merov. 3.481) (blessing of couple ‘in basilica’ three days before consummation of marriage) (PCBE 4.1.386–410 Caesarivs 1, bishop AD 502–42). I take most of these references from Hunter (2007) 96, who points out the lack of evidence from North Africa for ecclesiastical wedding customs. See also Rizter (1970) 222–37; Schmidt (1974); Evenou (1987b) 189–95. 266  Blessings in houses: Avitus (of Vienne) Ep. 49 (PL 59.266–67) in bridal chamber rather than in church, which was for consecration of virgins. 267  Weddings in houses, with clergy in attendance: Cappadocia (later 4th c.): Greg. Naz. Ep. 231 (PG 37.373) (Gregory writes to excuse himself from attending a wedding where an epithalamium will be sung and the father will place the wreaths on the heads of the bride and groom, suggesting the celebration was in the bride’s house); Sinai (6th c.): Anastasius of Sinai, Tales of the Sinai Fathers 1.14 (monk attending wedding feast in a house) (translation only seen); at Cple (AD 582): Theoph. Sim. 1.10 (Maurice and Constantina married in Augusteum of Great Palace, by the patriarch). 268  Processions with torches, Stilicho and Serena: Claud. III cos. Hon. 155–56 (not an epithalamium, (AD 384), probably Cple, where court of Theodosius was based, PLRE 1.824 Serena); Honorius and Maria: Claud. Carm. Min. 1 (13); Fescennine Verses 3; Epith. 202–29 (at 193 identifying the city as Milan, AD 398); Maurice and Constantina: Evagr. Hist. eccl. 6.1 (at Cple, AD 582); student bridegroom: Himer. Or. 9.21 (an epithalamium, at Philippi, sometime mid 4th c.), also records a torch being lit as the bride leaves the wedding, for the journey to bed.

203 bride, evening seems natural.269 In most cases, it appears that the procession was still undertaken on foot. Claudian’s state marriage processions have brides travelling in a chariot of an emperor and of a court official, the vehicle of the latter bride being decorated with flowers. The use of such a chariot for the bride might have been justified when the wedding was not to be undertaken in her house, but in the imperial palace, as was the case for the first example here. At Gaza, during the reign of Justinian, a group of three brides from wealthy families processed on mules, going to their wedding in the house of one of the grooms, rather than coming from it. At Antioch in the 360s, Julian seems to imply that brides might be set on a donkey, but does not confirm if this is to go to or from the celebration.270 Although drunkenness and lewd songs were perhaps not always welcome in the street, we do know that the marriage feast itself involved some of the same elements. Here, hired performers might make virgin brides blush, according to ecclesiastical critics, with songs about Aphrodite and adultery. Yet, we should not imagine much more than occasional humour, given that only two surviving epithalamia are deliberately pornographic, and that one of these was composed as a literary joke.271 Even in the street, songs might not have been very risqué. Ausonius evokes a marriage procession in which the unmarried peers of the happy couple (both boys and girls, as confirmed in Himerius) sang with ‘unpolished verse’ as the bride was led off in procession to bed. The sexual features in the lyrics he imagines were tame: references to the scattering of nuts and to children. Clerical denunciations of lewdness do not extend beyond the early 5th c., even though bridal processions still took place in 6th c. Constantinople, where those fol269  Torches and time of day: see Hersch (2010) 138; Diptych: Scholars have suggested that the semi-naked maiden carrying a torch downwards on the Nicomachi part of the N-S diptych might represent a bride, images in Kinney and Cutler (1994) 458–60, before the torches are uplifted in procession, as in Claud. Carm. Min. 25 (30, 31).34; see Cameron (1986) 42–45 and Simon (1992). Note that the procession in Choricius seems to have been before sunset: Or. 6.29. 270  Bridal transport: on foot: e.g. Claud. III cos. Hon. 155–56 (bride led by the hand from the palace); Epith. 318 (Stilicho stands in crowd); Paulinus of Nola Carmen 25.84 (bride walking); chariot: Claud. Carm. Min. 25(30, 31).104 (curus, decorated with flowers); Epith. 303 (ductura nurum); mule: At Gaza, in the reign of Justinian, a group of three brides processed on mules: Choricius Or. 6.22; from wealthy families: Or. 6.14 (brides) and 6.33 (grooms); donkey: implied by Julian Mis. 355B. 271  Lewd aspects of weddings: rhetors performing at wedding: Russell (1979), with Ausonius composing a wedding poem, with some erotic verses, for Valentinian I: Carm. 17.8 (Cent. nupt.), which also appear in Luxurious 18.64–68; dancers from theatre corrupting modest brides: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Cor. Propter fornicationes (PG 51.210).

204 lowing sang, as they did in Vandal Africa, according to the epithalamium of Dracontius. Neither Paulinus nor Choricius mention any vulgarity or nut throwing. From the latter, the only act of the crowd is to block the feet of the mules with obstacles, to slow the procession down.272 It seems that the sexual aspects of the procession were being downplayed, perhaps under Christian influence. But the processional act of being led from the wedding feast to bed, rather than being led to a church to be blessed, did of course set a context for the crowd, in which references to fecundity were entirely within the spirit of the occasion, if now represented only by a carpet of petals and compliments on the looks of the bride. Of the participants in the procession and their dress, we naturally have most information about the bride, on whose costume a great range of sources are in agreement. A glimpse comes from Synesius, in early 5th c. Cyrenaica. He describes the attire of his niece in the time leading up to her wedding: ‘dressed in purple … she had decked herself with gold and precious stones’. The wedding costume was to be even more elaborate: she was currently ‘preparing to display herself crowned with fillets and with a towering head-dress like Cybele’, a comment which Paulinus echoes in his description of the bride’s turreted hair. In depictions, we only see brides with raised hair, and no turreted crown of city walls, which is familiar in late antique depictions of civic Tyches. The marriage of the emperor Maurice and Constantina, as described by Evagrius, featured the most elaborate head-gear, ‘crowns most precious with their abundance of gold and the varied splendour of the jewels’.273 Evagrius’ account also suggests a style of costume to which wealthy brides might aspire. It featured ‘a robe shot with gold, decorated with (murex) purple and Indian stones’. This echoes the dress which Paulinus rejected for Christian brides: silk (no colour specified) and purple garments, long dresses brightened by purple and gold. It is also somewhat similar to the costume of brides in the S. Maria Maggiore mosaics: Rachel in marrying Jacob wears a belted golden tunic with a red-purple palla, both laid over a white long-sleeved tunic, whilst Sephora in marrying Moses wears a yellow-golden and purple patterned tunic, covering a white long-sleeved tunic, finished by a palla of similar colours to the first tunic. These scenes recall the procession of female 272   Wedding processions accompanied by songs: from peers of couple, in which bridegroom exhorted to scatter nuts: Auson. Carm. 17.6 (Cent. nupt.); songs of maidens and young bachelors: Him. Or. 9.21; parade of crowds sings good wishes: Dracontius Carmina minora 6.101 (later 5th c.); procession of Maurice and Constantina hymned: Evagr. Hist. eccl. 6.1. Blocking the road with obstacles: Choricius Or. 6.22. 273  Turreted headdress of bride: Syn. Ep. 3 (πυργοφόρος καθάπερ); Paul. Carm. 25.86 (turritum sedeas aedificata caput).

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saints in the early 6th c. mosaics of S. Apollinare Nuovo in Ravenna, who differ in their dress only in having a white palla. The homogeneity of this evidence suggests a recognisable wedding garb did exist, at the top of society. Even so, other depictions of weddings, from 4th c. gold glass to the 7th c. David Plates, suggest that bridal costume was little different to dress on other formal occasions, except perhaps in the relative expense of the materials used.274 In none of the depictions on gold, glass or silver, is a veil visible. However, in both of the S. Maria mosaics and in that from S. Apollinare, it is in white, attached to the back of the head of the bride, and flows down past her knees. Synesius’ niece was also wearing ‘a translucent veil over her hair’ prior to her wedding. A veil is also described by Claudian as covering Maria’s hair, and in another place her tears. The anonymous author of an epithalamium for Laurentius and Florida, ca. 400, also mentions a snowy veil (niveo velamine tecta), whilst Sidonius recalls a traditional wedding veil ( flammeum) in one of his epithalamia, suggesting that this custom was part of late antique practice, at least in the first part of our period.275 Elaborate necklaces on the bride are more widely attested. They occur both in epithalamia in the description of the bride and in depictions, such as that of Rachel and Jacob, and on 4th to 5th c. gold glass. But it is Paulinus who gives the most memorable account, in his condemnation of marriage customs unbefitting Christians, in his spurning of ‘necklaces adorned with motley jewels’. He equally rejects make-up: the rouge on the skin, the mascara, and the yellow dye in the hair of the bride. Such practices were likely common, as no part of his description of them is complimentary, and so represents a social critique rather than a literary trope. In contrast, he advocates inner adornment, natural beauty 274  Dress of bride: distinctive: Evagr. Hist. eccl. 6.1 (imperial wedding); Paul. Carm. 25.73–76 (Quae modo purpureis serica mixta gerunt. Quae tunicas ostro rutilas, auroque crepantes), and at Carm. 25.43 he repeats that the garments of a bride normally feature gold and purple colours; Luxurious 18.49 mentions a purple uestem clasped with a gold brooch, though repeating Verg. Aen. 4.139. S. Maria Maggiore: Brenk (1975), with Cecchelli (1956) 116 pl. 17, 149–50 pl. 30. For S. Apollinare Nuovo: see Harlow (2004) 210, 213 fig. 11; ‘ordinary’: e.g. marriage of David and Michal of the David Plates (Cyprus Museum, inv. J.452) (dated to AD 628–30), showing palla over long-sleeved floor-length tunic, no veil; glass drinking-glass base (British Museum 1898,0719.1) (4th c.); glass plate base (Metropolitan Museum of Art 15.168) (4th–5th c.), long-sleeved tunic covered by palla, no veil. 275   Veil of bride: Syn. Ep. 3; Claud. Epith. 304; and also in Fescennine Verses 4.4 (hiding tears of bride in bed chamber), but here in a passage heavy in cliché; Epithalamium Laurentii 65 (niveo velamine tecta); Sid. Apol. Carm. 15.187 ( flammeum). S. Maria Maggiore mosaics: see n. 274 above. S. Apollinare Nuovo mosaics: Harlow (2004) 210 with 213 fig. 11.

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and material simplicity.276 Paulinus would even have the groom come in worn-out clothes, though the grooms in the gold glass depiction wear togas, as do Moses and his companions in the 5th c. mosaics of S. Maria Maggiore. David is shown in a chlamys, when he marries Michal in the early 7th c. David Plates, as is a groom in a depiction on a gold-plated plaque, thought to be 3rd–4th c. in date.277 The princess Serena was led from the palace by her adopted mother, the empress, in Claudian’s description, whilst ‘mothers’ feature in the wedding procession invented by Ausonius, leading the bride to the groom’s house. Husbands are not recorded as being present during the procession, at least in the high-status marriages we hear of, although probably they were not far behind, or already at their house to receive the bride. Stilicho escorted his daughter Maria to her wedding with Honorius, or at least followed her chariot. Unmarried friends of the bride and groom, feature in the processions described by Ausonius and Himerius, though they are not mentioned in association with imperial occasions.278 Provincial notables could probably count on the people who accompanied them to the agora on a daily basis. Commoners would most likely imitate them, as weddings were perhaps the only time in their lives when they could imitate the processions of the rich. Even a monk would smarten up in fine clothes to attend a wedding, in a dream recorded in 6th c. Sinai.279 Of specific aspects of dress for wedding guests, we might note the wreath of flowers which crowned the head of Stilicho, both at his own marriage and at that of his daughter. Earlier, this custom is well-attested, the crown being worn mainly by men, as it is on the 5th c. depiction of the marriage of Moses in S. Maria Maggiore, who wears a green wreath. Late antique brides are not usually shown or described wearing it, except at the wedding recorded by Dracontius in Vandal Africa, when a crown was supplied by the mothers and young people, just before the procession was due to begin. Inscribed

drinking vessels from the 4th–5th c. show crowns being held over the heads of both of the married parties, at the moment of hand-clasping, a custom which endured into Middle Byzantium. The hand-clasping happened on the threshold of the house of the bride’s father, in the epithalamium of Ausonius, being followed by gift-giving prior to the procession departing. It is possible that others attending the spectacle wore crowns; Stilicho’s soldiers wore wreaths of laurel and myrtle for his daughter’s wedding, whilst the male companion of Moses wore wreaths identical to his, in the 5th c. Maggiore mosaic.280 In all this, there is little to suggest new customs to differentiate late antique wedding processions from those of early Rome. Almost all other details we have are attested earlier, although it would be foolish to assume that this means all earlier habits continued. In one case, we hear of a related but separate procession: of gifts from the groom / groom’s family to the bride, the acceptance of which implied that nuptials were imminent. This event became an accepted part of Roman legislation from the time of Constantine, but a procession is only recorded once. Arcadius’ chamberlain Eutropius ordered Constantinople to be wreathed, in the manner of an imperial wedding, for the procession of wedding gifts (clothes and jewels) from the emperor to Eudoxia, the daughter of the magister militum Bauto. This would reveal the imperial choice of bride to the spectators, who were eager to see whose house the procession stopped at.281 Although we might expect such imperial behaviour to set a precedent for others, or reflect wider customs, no evidence for an equivalent procession has so far come to light. Of the gifts given at the wedding itself, we might expect them to be carried along after the bride, given that they were intended for the marital home and were presented at the handclasping, prior to departure. No ancient text confirms this, but behaviour in other types of procession, suggests it could have been possible.

276  Bridal ornament: necklaces: Paul. Carm. 25.46–47; rouge (non fucis male ficta cutem), mascara (lumina nigra pulvere), yellow dye in hair (nec flavo tincta colore comam): Paul. Carm. 25.63– 65; inner adornment, natural beauty, and material simplicity: Paul. Carm. 25.49–50, 25.66, passim. 277  Dress of grooms: worn-out clothes (shocking respectable people, so not prevalent): Paul. Carm. 25.99; togas: Moses and his companions in S. Maria Maggiore mosaics: see n. 274 above; chlamydes, in early 7th c. David Plates: see n. 274 above; in 3rd–4th c. metal plaque: Kalavrezou (2003) 231 no. 132, (Metropolitan Museum of Art 1993.166). 278  Participants: adopted mother of Serena (empress): Claud. III con. Hon. 155–56; mothers (matres): Auson. Carm. 17.6; father of Maria: Claud. Epith. 295–96; young friends of couple: see n. 272 above for Ausonius and Himerius. 279  Dress of participants: smart clothes: Anastasius of Sinai Tales of the Sinai Fathers 1.14 (translation only seen).

280  Crowns: of groom and his male friends: Stilicho: Carm. Min. 1 (13); Fescennine verses 3.1–2; his soldiers: Epith. 336; Moses and companions in S. Maria Maggiore mosaics: see n. 274 above; for bride: (Vandal Africa): Dracontius, Carmina minora 6.99. For depictions of wedding crowns from the 4th–5th c., see drinking glass base (British Museum 1898,0719.1) (4th c.) and glass plate base (Metropolitan Museum of Art 15.168) (4th– 5th c.), both thought to be from Rome (with Latin script), of which the former shows the crowns held over the heads of the couple at the clasping of the hands. See Vikan (1984) 152–53 for other references to wedding crowns in this period. On the crown of flowers in earlier Rome: see Hersch (2010) 89–92. 281  Procession to deliver gifts: (Cple, 395) from an imperial suitor, which stopped at house of late magister equitum Promotus, where Eudoxia was staying: Zos. 5.3.5, PLRE 2.410 Aelia Eudoxia 1. Wedding gifts as part of pre-nuptial ritual: Anné (1941) 239–486, esp. 395–460.

206 Religious Processions ‘Pagan’ Devotional Processions Religious processions had long been an integral part of the public life of Mediterranean communities, in villages, cities, and individual urban quarters. They were held as part of festivals and other public occasions. Such rituals are well-documented for major cities in the Hellenistic and Early Imperial periods, and it is tempting to stretch this knowledge to Late Antiquity, wherever we hear that a traditional festival continued. Here, again, a reconstruction will be offered based only on late antique material, as this was a period of profound change, even for those festivals which did survive the closing of the temples. Given the significant local and regional variation in religious life, this will necessarily mean that I here a patchy account, although there were several traditional festivals that were held right across the central and eastern Mediterranean into the 6th c. In the 4th c., two main types of ‘pagan’ procession are attested: a well-ordered devotional procession, originally leading to a sacrifice at a temple, and a more exuberant festival procession, where the emphasis was on having fun. There may not always have been a strong division between the two types, but they do appear differently in our sources for the 4th c., so it is worth considering them separately. The devotional procession is depicted on tetrarchic monuments at Rome (the Decennalia monument: fig. C6) and at Thessalonica (the Arch of Galerius). Under Constantine, imperial devotional processions seem to have come to an end, although Julian revived them at Antioch during his residency. One can note the appearance of a procession of sacrificial bulls on the Arch of Galerius, and of traditionally-decorated sacrificial animals (bull, goat, pig), with half-naked axewielding attendants, on the Tetrarchic Decennalia monument in Rome.282 Although these might also have been depicted out of iconographic conservatism, we know that the tetrarchs did practice blood sacrifice in public. Thus, street processions with victims are likely to have taken place, finishing at major temples. In Julian’s processions, images of the gods were carried: on occasions

282  Pagan devotional processions: Rome (Decennalia monument, (AD 303), when vicennalia celebrated in Rome): see Kähler (1964). The axe-bearers have the upper body naked, with medallion in one case; garlands and wreaths (and other headgear) ornament the bull, sheep, and pig, with the bull and pig having a cloth each across their back. A clothed accompanier carries a tray of something inside (petals? fruit?); Antioch / other eastern city (Arch of Galerius, representing events of AD 298): Mayer (2002) 34.2; Antioch, Julian with images: Amm. Marc. 22.12.3 (during residence of Julian in Antioch, (AD 362–63)).

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he liked to hold them himself, a practice which even drew criticism from his pagan supporter Ammianus.283 The routes of devotional processions were traditionally well-defined, with the intention of passing through major public spaces in a city, eventually to reach a temple, either in the centre or at a sanctuary beyond the walls, where a sacrifice and ritual meal would take place.284 Such events had the potential to bring the entire pagan community together: so we find a procession with statues, brought by priests from surrounding pagi and cities, at the dedication of a temple sometime in 286–93 in Thubursiscu Numidarum.285 Yet, whilst devotional processions had been a central part of civic life for centuries, we should not assume that they survived strongly everywhere, even at the start of the 4th c. For example, the persistence of traditional religious holidays in the Calendar of A.D. 354 is often not supported by more than a name for a particular day: there does not seem to have been any survival of a street ritual to accompany it. Thus, full descriptions of processions drawn from other sources are especially important. Of processions to extra-mural sanctuaries, we hear of one at Stratoniceia in Caria in 312 (involving gold crowns and a sacred key), leading to the sanctuary of Zeus at Panamara. There were also processions to extra-mural sanctuaries at Antioch under Julian, and at Gaza in the 390s, if we can believe the Life of Porphyry, written probably in the 6th c.286 Of processions into / within the city, we hear that the Panathenaic procession still survived at Athens in the time of Himerius (active mid 4th c.). A small trireme on wheels was brought along the Panathenaic Way, from the city gate to the Parthenon. The procession was composed of priests and priestesses from prominent families, crowned with golden diadems and flowers, who were accompanied by songs.287 283  Tetrarchic blood sacrifices: Lactant. De mortibus persecutorum 10 (Diocletian and Galerius, probably at Antioch ‘during his abode in the East’), 36 (Maximinus Daia). On Julian, see the previous footnote. 284  Traditional devotional processions: see for example Apul. Met. 11.5–17 (2nd c., port of Corinth, indicated at end of book 10, votive boat is sacrificed on the sea); MacLean Rogers (1991) 80–126, 152–84 (Ephesus, early 2nd c., associated with meetings in theatre, no sacrifices). 285   Bringing priests from pagi into the city (Thubursiscu Numidarum, 286–93): ILAlg 1.1241, Lep 211, dated based on Diocletian and Maximian being Augusti, without Caesars. 286   Processions to extramural sanctuaries, at Stratoniceia in Caria: I.Strat. 310 (inscription of AD 312); at Antioch, to sanctuary of Apollo at Daphne: Julian Mis. 361D–362A (during J.’s residence in the city AD 362/63); at Gaza: V. Porph. 19 (procession to an extramural ‘place of prayer’ during a drought, supposed to be AD 395). 287  Processions into / within the city, at Athens, Panathenaic procession: Himer. Or. 47.12 (PLRE 1.436 Himerius 2). See Leopold (1985).

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Street Processions

figure c6

Sacrifice procession: Tetrarchic Decennalia monument, Rome C. Fargalia D-DAI-Rom Neg 35.356-358, H. Behrens D-DIA-Neg 2008.2272

From the West, our examples are confined to Rome, although it is possible they were carried on at Carthage as late as the 360s or 370s. In Rome, many pagan holidays were retained in the Calendar of A.D. 354, although there seems to have been a cull of emperor-festivals unrelated to Constantine’s dynasty. Here, the continued existence of Isidis navigium, on 5th March, can be supported by a late series of New Year coins produced in Rome, replaced only in 378/79, which featured a ship, alongside much iconography associated with the goddess. We know that such a ship was ceremonially launched on this day, into the sea, following a procession, as Apuleius describes at Corinth in the later 2nd c. The Roman coins suggest the ship, which was offered to assist the start of the sailing season, was still very much in the public mind. Perhaps it was even rolled along in a street procession for some distance, as was the ship in Athens, being first floated on the Tiber, as in a fresco from Ostia, dated to the joint reign of Septimius Severus and his sons (A.D. 209–211), which shows children in procession pulling a wheeled ship. We could imagine a route from the Roman Isis temple to the coast, perhaps to Ostia, given the restoration of an Isis temple here in 376, recorded in an inscription dredged from waters around the Isola Sacra. Unfortunately, even Apuleius, who describes the procession in detail, does not mention the boat until he reaches the end of the parade. We cannot know if it was carried or not. The coins at least provide some idea that there was tolerance for the Roman community who supported the festival, making it likely that some form of street ritual still took place.288 288  Processions into / within the city, at Carthage: I do not think we can confirm that there was a procession of Caelestis in the city. There was certainly a great spectacle inside the temple precinct with a display of prostitutes (meretrica pompa), next to / in front of the statue of the goddess, during Augustine’s youth (360s–370s), but whether this involved a street procession is not made clear by the text: August. De civ. D. 2.4 and 2.26; at Rome, Isidis navigum: Calendar of A.D. 354 March (Rome) with Alföldi (1937), with significance of coins re-interpreted by Alföldi (1965–66) and Salzman (1990) 169–76, esp. 173–74; see also Degrassi (1963) 419–20. Note that none of the coins show a wheeled or carried ship; although the catalogue of Alföldi (1937) often describes Isis depicted in a tensa; she is in fact in a

In the later 4th c., a Cybele / Magna Mater procession survived in Rome, as attested by Ammianus, although it is not depicted on a sarcophagus relief, as some have thought. It was held each year on 27th March: Ammianus states that her image was carried by a cart to be washed in the waters of the Almo, and then returned to the sanctuary. The Calendar of A.D. 354 notes that other parts of this festival cycle survived, with the ceremonial entry of reed-bearers and then a pine tree into the city on the 15th and 22nd March, recalling the life of the goddess’ lover Attis, who was said to have been born amongst the reeds and to have died beneath a pine tree. Unfortunately, we cannot confirm if either procession still took place, although they would probably have involved one city gate and the Temple of Magna Mater on the Palatine, or perhaps the ‘Phrygianum’ on the Vatican, which seems, from the inscriptions of eleven 4th c. taurobolic altars, to have been active until 390.289 At Antioch, it is likely chariot, which in only one coin is pulled by possible elephants, for which I cannot find any indication of date (Pl.14, coin 52). Ostia temple restoration, (AD 376): Vidman (1969) no. 562 = AE (1961) no. 152 = AE (1971) no. 67. For the fresco: Stern (1975) 26–27 with fig. 1. The date is based on the appearance on a vexillum carried in the scene with imperial imagines for three Augusti, those of Septimius Severus, Caracalla, and Geta. Early Imperial description of launch: Apul. Met. 11.5–17 (esp. 11.16, at Corinth, as indicated at the end of book 10). Reduction in number of non-Constantinian imperial holidays: Salzman (1990) 131–41. 289  Processions into / within the city, at Rome, Canna intrat (entrance of the reed), Arbor intrat (entrance of the tree): Calendar of A.D. 354 March, with commentary by Fishwick (1966) 193–96 and Salzman (1990) 165–68. Magna Mater lavatio procession: Amm. Marc. 23.3.7 (later 4th c., carpentum is the word used). On the San Lorenzo sarcophagus, see the studies referred to under n. 107 relating to the pompa circensis. The disappearance of the Magna Mater festival cycle from the Calendar of Polemius Silvius March (ca. 448/49) likely marks the disappearance of processions of this nature, which may have come to an end following Cod. Theod. 2.8.22 (AD 395, given at Cple), which removed pagan holidays from the calendar. See Salzman (1990) 235–38 on this event, which was preceded by legislation in the same spirit, from Cod. Theod. 2.8.19 (AD 389, given at Rome) onwards. Temples of Magna Mater and ‘Phrygianum’: Pensabene (1996) (not seen); Liverani (2008) noting a gap of 28 years in the 2nd quarter of the 4th c., attested in one inscription (SEG 2.158) (not seen), which may

208 that street processions were also held to mark the death of Adonis: Lucian records a procession of the effigy of the resurrected Adonis to the Temple of Aphrodite in the 2nd c. The event probably survived as part of the festival to Adonis witnessed by Julian (in the form of public mourning) on his entry into the city. Julian’s own devotional processions at Antioch were carried out from the palace to the temples on a regular basis.290 There were tangible benefits for participants in these rituals: at Stratoniceia, in the first decades of the 4th c., men, women, and children who joined the procession received a distribution of oil.291 Meat was also available for those attending processions ending in a sacrifice, which traditionally had featured the victims being led through the streets.292 But times had changed, and the prospect of public feasting on meat killed in Julian’s Antiochene sacrifices alienated even his supporters, who were happy to participate in public feasting without such rites. This reflects one common element in the religious culture of the period, shared by some pagans as well as Christians: a distaste for traditional blood sacrifices.293 Certainly, the pathetic contribution of local pagans to the sacrifices of this pagan emperor suggests that, even with full state support, they had little enthusiasm for such activities. Julian noted, sarcastically, that they had not lost their ability to spend on the Maiuma and other traditional festivals. The emperor expected crowds for his rites, but on one occasion was left standing in the rain as he attempted to carry out a propitiatory sacrifice. He had to imagine what a ‘proper’ sacrifice should have been like: ‘beasts for sacrifice, libations, choruses in honour of the god, incense, and the youths of your city there surrounding the shrine, their souls adorned with all holiness and themselves attired in white and splendid raiment’.294

correspond to a gap during 319–350, when St Peter’s Basilica was being constructed adjacent to the site. 290   Processions, context uncertain: in Syria: procession for Adonis, in Syria: Lucian de Dea Syriae 6, probably reflected in Amm. Marc. 22.9.15; at Antioch, Julian’s processions from palace to temples: Julian Mis. 346A–C; Amm. Marc. 22.14.3 (AD 362/63). 291   Oil for procession participants: at Stratonicea: I. Strat. 310 (inscription of time of Maximinus Daia as Augustus, (ca. AD 309–13), PLRE 1.579 Galerius Valerius Maximinus Daia 12), translated in Lee (2000) 78–79 no. 3.10. 292  Public feasting: at Antioch, under Theodosius I: Lib. Or. 22.38. Following sacrifice, as an important component to festivals elsewhere: Goddard (2002) 1073–79. 293  Disapproval of animal sacrifice: e.g. Amm. Marc. 22.12.6–7, with Bradbury (1995), Goddard (2006) 296–97 and other studies cited by Demarsin (2011) 31. Unpopularity of devotional acts, at Antioch: Julian Mis. 345C, 362B–C.; Amm. Marc. 22.12.6. 294  Sacrifice procession of Julian’s imagination: Mis. 362B (‘light’ garments are λευκῇ δ᾽ ἐσθῆτι).

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Evidently, in many places, such scenes belonged to the past. Nevertheless, devotional processions to temples or altars could still take place when only incense was being offered. When Julian became Augustus, pagans in Antioch processed out to the parade ground to altars to make offerings. As the public identity of Julian was as a Christian at his accession, it is likely that the Antiochene offerings were only incense. They would have been made at altars once used by the army for oaths and imperial honours. At Rome, ca. 380, Vettius Agorius Praetextatus made an ‘ascent to the Capitol’ preceded by ‘the highest magistrates’. This sounds like a devotional procession missing only its victims.295 We do not hear of such street rituals after the early 5th c., with or without live victims, so it is probable that they came to an end in most cities at this point, perhaps especially when imperial legislation proscribed most pagan holidays from the calendar, between 389 and 395.296 But it is likely that, in remote places in the countryside, there was more chance that sacrificial processions survived. Farmers who had previously attended pagan shrines, brought animals to sacrifice at the shrine of St. Felix in Nola, Italy, in the early years of the 5th c. Similarly, in the life of St. Nicholas of Sion, set in 6th c. Lycia, we hear of villages around Myra sacrificing cows. Gregory the Great encouraged Augustine to adopt the same practice to reChristianise Britain, on the dedication days of churches, or on the feast days of martyrs whose relics had been interred within them. It is possible that some customs, such as a street parade of the victim, or their garlanding, seen in earlier sacrifice processions, survived in this context, when animals were slaughtered every autumn. Unfortunately, none of our sources informs us on this point.297 ‘Pagan’ Festival Processions Traditional classical festival movements of celebration, usually not connected to sacrifice, had lost little of their appeal. These were known as kômoi in the East, a term associated with unruly dancing and drinking, characteristics which still seem to have been present according

295  Devotional processions without animal sacrifice: at Antioch: Lib. Or. 15.76 (on accession of Julian); at Rome: Jer. Ep. 23.3 (ascent to Capitol), with Kahlos (2002) 97–99. 296  Removal of pagan holidays from the calendar: see n. 289 above. 297  Rural Christians sacrificing animals: at Nola, Shrine of St. Felix: Paul. Carm. 20; Trout (1995); in Lycia, Shrines of Archangel ? in Traglassos and St. Gabriel in Karbako; St. Theodore at Kausai; Holy Archangel in Nea Kome; Apphianos in Partaessos; St. George in Plenion; Archangel and St. Demetrius in Symbolon; Theotokos in Nauten; St. Irene in Serine; St. Nicholas in Kastellon; Melissa in Hemalissoi: Life of Nicholas of Sion 54–57; in south-east Britain: Greg. Ep. 11.56.

Street Processions

to writers from later 4th c. Antioch.298 However, our knowledge of specific processions is limited to just a few examples. At Calama, in 408, a procession was held for the Kalends (of June), and involved forbidden rites and dancing. A festival procession for the Kalends of January (henceforth ‘the Kalends’) is recorded at Ravenna in 430–50, featuring statues / masks of the old gods carried / worn by the revellers. At Rome, the Lupercalia festival survived until at least the 490s, when it was denounced by Pope Gelasius. In Republican times, this had involved the sacrifice of goats, after which aristocratic youths ran through the streets dressed in goatskin thongs, striking or touching women who were to bear children, or who wished to become pregnant. The runners followed a route around the Palatine, where the Lupercal cave was located. We have only a few details of the 5th c. procession, all coming from Pope Gelasius’ account. He reveals that people of low status (perhaps professional performers), rather than nobles, now ran in the street for this festival, and that irreverent songs were sung. Finally, at Edessa, during the Maiuma festival in 497/98, seven days of processions to entertainment buildings took place, where dancers were praised in song.299 Whilst these diverse street events are usually only described in detail once, the named festivals they related to are known across several regions in Late Antiquity, suggesting that their processions were more common than one might initially suppose. The Kalends is the most widely attested festival. It occurs in the West, from Hispania, Gaul, Italy, and Africa (4th to 6th c. and beyond), and in Amaseia and Antioch in the East. Libanius claims that it was the only universal festival in the Roman empire, which is not contradicted by our evidence for other celebrations with large-scale popular participation. The Lupercalia is attested only in late 5th c. Rome, although it was at least known to Augustine earlier in the same century. The Maiuma is found especially in the Near East (Antioch, Edessa, Gerasa), but also at Aphrodisias and Ostia. The spread of late water-basins installed within theatres suggests that its characteristic entertainments were popular across the Levant, Asia Minor, Greece, and central-southern Italy.300 In terms of 298  κῶμοι in late 4th c. Antioch: see the references from Julian, Libanius, Chrysostom, and others assembled by Soler (1997) 326–29 and (2006) 89–90. 299  ‘Pagan’ / traditional festival processions: at Calama (Kalends of June): August. Ep. 91.8 (AD 408); at Ravenna (Kalends of January, ca. AD 433–50): see n. 321–313 below; at Rome (Lupercalia): Pope Gelasius Ep. 100 (Coll. Avell.) (CSEL 35.1 pp. 453–64) (pontiff AD 492–96) with Green (1931) and Holleman (1974); at Edessa (in May, very probably equivalent to Maiuma): Josh. Styl. 30 (AD 497/98), with n. 323. 300  Traditional festivals with street rituals in Late Antiquity: on the Kalends of January see: Harris (2011); Kaldelis (2012); Graf (2012), with Meslin (1970) for earlier times; Lib. Or. 1.243 on

209 chronology, it has been suggested some street rituals of the Kalends of January, such as the wearing of masks, are related to Christianisation, because they are not attested before the end of the 4th c. This seems unlikely, given the visits to temples during the New Year holiday, recorded by Libanius. It is possible that the custom developed in the 3rd or early 4th c., before our late 4th c. concentration of evidence, which is mainly attributable to writers trained in Antioch. The main chronological trend for traditional festivals seems to be of persistence or decline of established customs, rather than the growth of new ones.301 There were some attempts to ban festival processions in the early 5th c., according to Augustine, who records the bishop at Calama invoking recent imperial legislation to do this (which we cannot identify).302 It is likely that at least some festival processions were affected by this pressure and by the disappearance of funds supporting temples and their activities. Yet, a specific number of calendar festivals did continue beyond the mid 5th c., as secular festivals without sacrifices, some with a surviving street ritual. Those which were formally connected to public entertainments probably had the greatest chance of success, such as the Maiuma, though the Brumalia, based largely in houses, was still popular and permitted in Justinian’s day.303 Despite some ecclesiastical criticism, one should not imagine that these holidays were its universality; on the Lupercalia: Green (1931) and Holleman (1974), with Wiseman (1995) and (2008) for earlier times. Gelasius’ letter implies the Lupercalia is celebrated elsewhere in Italy, whilst it is attested by August. De civ. D. 18.12.17; on the Maiuma: see Greatrex and Watt (1999) and Belayche (2004) 14–19 with references, the former pointing out that the identification of the Edessa festival as Maiouma is not certain, but very likely. For the references to the geographical spread of festivals see passim in this section. Note especially references to costume for the Kalends, suggesting a similar street ritual across a wide area (Barcelona, Auxerre, and Arles, as well as Ravenna, Amaseia, and Antioch). For water basins in theatres see Lavan (2007b) 153, 155, drawing on Sear (2006) and Traversari (1960). The connection between water basins and the Maiuma is made by inscriptions, and Lydus, who connects it to swimming at Ostia, and water spectacles in Syria: ALA 40 (Aphrodisias, on a nymphaeum, mid 5th c.); Welles (1938) 279 line 4 (Gerasa, from pillar of gateway by Birketein pool and theatre complex, AD 535); Lydus Mens. 4.80 (edn. Wuensch 133, not the same in other editions) with Suda ‘Mu’ 47 (on Ostia). Chrysostom describes a nude female swimmer exciting crowds in the water pool of the theatre, which may refer to the festival: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Matth. 7.6–7 (PG 57.79–81). As Greatrex and Watt (1999) 1–4, 18–21, point out, the festival of Brytae at Cple, attested especially around AD 500, is likely to be the local equivalent of the Maiuma. 301  Kalends and Christianisation: Harris (2011) 13–14. 302  Festival corteges banned, early 5th c.: August. Ep. 91.8. This may be the legislation of 395 removing pagan holidays from the calendar, for which see n. 289 above. 303  Brumalia supported by Justinian: Maas (1992) 64–66.

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Festival procession: festival costumes, Museum of Sardinian Life and Folk Traditions, Nuoro

a refuge for pagan transgressors or taboo-breakers: for the festival of Kalends, Chrysostom records the agora of Antioch being decorated, and shops displaying their finest wares. The liberty accorded to Kalends celebrations during the 6th c. indicates that the festival continued to enjoy broad public support, whilst the persistence of its distinctive costumes suggests that street processions were still undertaken. For the Lupercalia of Rome, we have only the view of Pope Gelasius: no secular voices are recorded explaining the character of the festival at this date. As McLynn notes, the people he criticises, who acted as patrons of the festival, were Christians.304 For at least the first half of the period, many festival processions moving through the streets seem to be associated with Dionysus, the patron-deity of drunkards. For the late 4th and early 5th c., festival processions 304  Decoration of agora for Kalends, and shops displaying wares: Joh. Chrys. kal. 3 (PG 48.954) (Antioch according to Mayer (2002) 511–12, so AD 386–97). On decoration of public space in general during festivals see: Delmaire (1996) 42–43, with references. On the costume of the Kalends: see n. 310–13. On Pope Gelasius’s criticism of the Lupercalia, related to a complaint about a priest accused of adultery, see McLynn (2008). I derive the interpretation that the participants were professional performers / actors from this article: p. 170.

of this style are described by Augustine for Africa, by Basil for Anatolia, and by Theodoret for the Near East. They involved singing, drinking, and dancing, and had a reputation for being wild: the ecstasy of drunken dancing was sometimes associated with the ways of the god. Theodoret describes how, under Julian, pagans ‘ran in corybantic frenzy round about the streets, attacked the saints with low stage jests, and with all the outrage and ribaldry of their impure processions’. At Caesarea in Cappadocia, drunken dancing women passed before a church, unnerving a group of Christian men through their lewdness.305 This last example did involve provocation, but we cannot be sure there really was any intention to promote the cult of Dionysus. For most participants, their object was likely fun rather than divine possession, though the god long remained a cultural mascot for festival merriment into the 6th c.306 There are many references to festival carousing addressed to Christians by preachers from throughout the period, as if church-goers might easily be found participating in a holiday cortege. For example, Gregory of Nazianzus describes dancing, music, and perfume on ‘those roads that are so prone to evil and entrances for sin’. For him drunkenness, over-eating, and debauchery were the principal vices of these festivals.307 Almost all parts of the community could join in this merriment, which united ‘men, adolescents, and pretty women aplenty’, according to Julian. At Madaura in Africa, Augustine describes even the ‘magistrates and the chief men of the city … intoxicated and raging along 305  Association of festival cortege with Dionysus: at Madaura in Africa: August. Ep. 17 (AD 390) (singing, drinking, and dancing where participants believe they are possessed by the god); at Caesarea in Cappadocia: Basil Hom. 14.1 (PG 31.445–47) with Bautz (1990a) (AD 370–79 when Basil bishop) (lewd dancing women pass a church, within a homily on drunkenness); in the Near East under Julian: Theod. Hist. eccl. 3.6 (corybantic frenzy. AD 361–63); at Antioch: possible references have been assembled by Soler (1997) 326–29 and (2006) 89–90, to both riotous festival processions and festivities for Dionysos in the later 4th c. (the most explicit being Julian Mis. 342B (AD 362/63) and Lib. Or. 11.20 (speech of AD 356), but none explicitly refer to a Dionysiac cortege actually in the street. 306  Dionysus as patron of festival fun in the 6th c.: Choricius Or. 32(8).31–32 commented by Bowersock (2006) 62–63. 307  Generic drunkenness in festivals: at Antioch: (for Kalends) in Joh. Chrys. kal. 1.3 (PG 48.951–62) (Antioch according to Mayer (2002) 511–12, so AD 386–97); in Africa: August. Serm. 198.2 (de calendis Januari II) (PL 38.1025), apparently given at Carthage in January (AD 404), although I have not been able to obtain a reference to support this; in the East: Greg. Naz. Or. 38.5 (on gluttony, drinking, and debauchery) (part of a sequence given in Cple, so AD 379–81, Bautz (1990d)). In contrast at Antioch the pagan Libanius focuses only on dancing: Progymnasmata 13.5.6. Opposition to festival merriment in 6th c. East: Moss (1935), with selected editions and translations of Jacob of Serug; Bowersock (2006) 62–63.

Street Processions

figure c8

Marriage ceremony: mosaic of marriage of Moses and Sephora, S. Maria Maggiore, Rome, Triumphal Arch, early 430s AD

(the) street’. Children do not appear, and doubtless wellto-do virgins and their nurses watched from the upper stories of their houses, giggling or disapproving from relative safety.308 Gregory of Nazianzus describes the decoration of streets and the adornment of doors during festivals, as do John Chrysostom and Libanius, relating to Antioch. From the latter two references, it appears that the decorations were laurel wreaths, at least during the Kalends.309 During the Maiuma, at Edessa and at Antioch, a very specific festival costume was worn: a short linen tunic with long sleeves. Participants also wore turbans at Antioch and shaved their bodies at Edessa. This detail provides one of several indications that the Maiuma festival parades were rather more structured than those of other holidays, although singing, shouting, and riotous behaviour are recorded as lasting all night during the Maiuma at Edessa.310 For other festivals, we hear only of colourful frocks, with a few extra props, added to suit the occasion. Even these might attract clerical criticism. Gregory implores his congregation to ‘not be effeminate in clothing soft and flowing, whose beauty consists in its uselessness, nor with the glittering of gems or the sheen of gold or the tricks of colour’.311 The Kalends processions involved men dressing up as women. They wore long tunics, corsets, and wigs, carried distaffs full of wool and spoke with high-pitched 308  Participants: men, adolescents, and pretty women: Julian Mis. 345D–346A; magistrates and chief men: see the previous footnote. 309  Adornment of doors: in the East: Greg. Naz. Or. 38.5 (given at Cple); at Antioch: Lib. Progymnasmata 13.5.7 (Kalandon) (with laurel branches and other types of wreaths); Joh. Chrys. kal. 3 (PG 48.957) ‘crowning’ of doors of houses, and plaiting of crowns / wreaths (στεφανώματα πλέκειν) is mentioned (Antioch according to Mayer (2002) 511–12). 310  Dress, specific for Maiuma, at Edessa: Josh. Styl. 30 (AD 497/98, similar so likely Maiuma); at Antioch: Sev. Ant. Hom. 95 (PO 25.537–38) (Severus was patriarch AD 512–18). 311  Dress, unspecific but luxurious: Greg. Naz. Or. 38.5.

211 voices. These details are confirmed by Asterius of Amaseia, Peter Chrysologus in Ravenna, Caesarius of Arles, Isidore of Seville, and canon 2 of the Council in Trullo (at Constantinople in 691–92), which attempted to put an end to many surviving traditional festivals.312 Harris has suggested that Chrysologus’ account of the Ravenna Kalends might indicate masks which bore faces of the gods, although the participants included Christians. From the 4th c., there are certainly plenty of references to animal masks at the Kalends, including someone dressed up as a stag (from both the East and West), and as a goat and a heifer (from Gaul and Italy).313 Some of these masks may have come from the theatre: the Council in Trullo describes the use of varied theatrical masks during festivals (Kalends, Bota, and Brumalia), whilst Asterius refers to ‘orchestra jugglers’ as amongst those calling at houses for gifts.314 There may also have been some wearing of vine-leaf wreaths, as seen in earlier times. This was a feature of depictions of the mythological kômos of Dionysus himself, during the late antique period as much as it was earlier. The making of wreaths is mentioned by Chrysostom in relation to the Kalends, without describing what plants were used. If wreaths could be displayed above doorways, then presumably they might also be placed on heads.315 It is beyond the scope of this work to explore continuity of these customs beyond Late Antiquity, but it is worth noting that the festival costume of Sardinia gives a vivid impression of the possible appearance of both crossdressing men, and revellers dressed as animals (fig. C7). 312   Dress, of Kalends, cross-dressing: Asterius Amas. Hom. 4 (PG 40.222), (AD 400), after consulship of Eutropius), who provides most detail of dress, with the distaffs full of wool, and adds that they also wore women’s shoes; Caesarius Sermones 192.2, 193.1 (anniculae), with Arbesmann (1979) (bishop AD 502–42: PCBE 4.1.386–410 Caesarivs 1); C. Const. in Trullo Canon 62 (Mansi 11.972, AD 692); Peter Chrysologus Or. 155bis.1 (bishop ca. AD 433–50 see n. 318) (men imitating women); Isid. de ecclesiasticis officiis 1.41 (50) (in face and gesture); C. Const. in Trullo Canon 62 (Mansi 11.972) (men as women and women as men). 313  Masks: of gods: Harris (2011) 14–15; Peter Chrysologus Or. 155bis.1 (men dress as cattle uestiuntur homines in pecudes) (imitation of gods: Figurant Saturnum, faciunt Iovem, formant Herculem) and 155.5 (carrying images of the gods imaginem dei portare, which may just mean the use of masks); of animals in the Kalends procession: Pacianus of Barcelona Parenesis 1 (PL 13.1081) (little stag (cervulum), later 4th c.), with Lumpe (1993b); Synod of Auxerre Canon 1 (sometime AD 561 to 605): (heifer / old woman (vetolo / vitula) and little stag (cervolo); Caesarius Sermones 193.1 (stag and goat), 192.2 (animal heads and skins); Isid. de ecclesiasticis officiis 1.41 (50) (dressing as wild animals), with especially Harris (2011)17–21, who assembles later references. 314  Masks: from theatre: C. Const. in Trullo Canon 62 (Mansi 11.972); Asterius Amas. Hom. 4 (PG 40.222) (ὀρχήστρας θαυματοποιοί). 315  Wreaths for Kalends: see above n. 308.

212 These great occasions of public merriment predictably involved ‘festival license’. At Rome in the 490s, a Christian priest who had committed adultery was the target of jests and songs during the Lupercalia. The magistrates of Madaura in Africa were not alone in robbing bystanders in the streets: this custom was also followed at Amaseia in Pontus at around the same time (the late 4th / early 5th c). The Kalends festival was particularly disrespectful towards the authorities. Asterius describes soldiers putting mock ‘consuls’ in ‘chariots’, and Lydus notes that the crowds impersonated the chief magistrates. As recalled earlier, even an emperor (Constantius II) could have his backside symbolically whipped on his statue, as it was dragged along in a festival. One festive kômos went so far as to shout abusive slogans against the emperor Julian, outside his palace at Antioch. Even before this incident, Julian disapproved of the frequency and nature of such processions, which were a far cry from his morally upright neoplatonic paganism; he banned them during his residence in the city.316 It appears that these traditional festivals were extremely popular, enough for Christians to wish to participate, in what had become accessible occasions for fun, rather than any statement of pagan religious identity.317 However, some clerics saw them as confrontational, especially outside of churches, as at Calama in Africa and at Caesarea in Cappodocia. At Calama, the local bishop was provoked, and tried to obtain redress from the governor. This led to rioting, with stones being pelted at this church.318 Whatever the clergy felt, there was no universal cessation, as shown by the Kalends processions at Ravenna in 430–50 and by those at Arles at the end of the 5th c.: in the latter case, a bishop was again offended by inappropriate behaviour when the procession passed in front of a church. Whilst several festivals survived into the 6th c., no public processions are definitely attested

316  Festival licence, cleric criticised: Pope Gelasius Ep. 100 (Coll. Avell. 453–64) (CSEL 35.1.453–64) (Rome); councillors robbing bystanders: August. Ep. 17 (AD 390) (Madaura); robbery during Kalends: Asterius Amas. Hom. 4 (PG 40.219) (Pontus); authorities mocked: Asterius Amas. Hom. 4 (PG 40.221) (Pontus, mocking consuls); Peter Chrysologus Or. 155bis.1 (Ravenna, mocking the courts and the censorship); Lydus Mens. 4.10 (mentioning general mocking of rulers); Julian Mis. 350D, with Soler (2006) 32–33 (mocking emperor). For Constantius see n. 187 above. 317  Christians appreciating festivals: evidence reviewed recently by Saradi (2006) 310–15, with references to discussions of eastern ecclesiastical criticism, reviewed for the West by Markus (1990) 107–23. 318   Confrontations outside churches: at Calama: August. Ep. 91.8 (AD 408); at Caesarea in Cappodocia: Basil Hom. 14 (PG 31.445–47, (AD 370–79) see n. 304 above.

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in this century.319 Various studies have shown how these festivals lost their religious character during the 4th and 5th c., but it is still difficult to point to any moment when pagan sentiment was definitively excluded, or could not be expressed in some way through participation in these occasions.320 It is important to note the timing of pagan religious processions. A few were produced by circumstance: for example, in late 4th c. Gaza, when a devotional procession of supplication was held to end a drought, whilst another going out to a sacrifice was held at Antioch on the news of Julian’s accession. When resident in the city, Julian did undertake some processions to temples that seem to have been made on of his own personal initiative, as well as on recognised festival days.321 Such days were of course normally marked out in the public calendars, used by civic authorities to organise the holding of games or various public distributions. Whilst officially recognised traditional festivals did become fewer, as calendars were revised over the 5th c. and Christian events made an appearance, festivals such as the Kalends, the Floralia, and the Brumalia, still featured in a calendar of Polemius Silvius of 448/49. But this was more than survival in name. Most of these festivals, alongside the Maiuma, were still recognised under Justinian as public events.322 It may have helped that some of them were focused on night-time revelry: Severus of Antioch recorded a candlelit procession during the Maiuma out to the stadium of Daphne, whilst a similar procession with candles took place to the theatre at Edessa.323 Chrysostom mentions the kindling of lights in the agora of Antioch during the Kalends, when inebriated kômoi were in evidence. However, the Kalends also included daytime 319  Survival of Kalends procession, despite episcopal disapproval: at Ravenna, with images of the gods by Peter Chrysologus Or. 155bis, (bishop ca. AD 433–50 see PCBE. 2.2. 1728–1730 Petrus Chrysologus 9, commented by Sotinel (2000) 265); at Arles earlier 6th c.: Caesarius Sermones 192 and 193 (PCBE 4.1.386– 410 Caesarivs 1, bishop AD 502–42). 320  Secularisation of festivals: Goddard (2002); Maas (1992) 45–56. 321   Spontaneous devotional processions: at Gaza (AD 395): V. Porph. 19; at Antioch (AD 361): Lib. Or. 15.76. Julian’s devotional processions and sacrifices: Julian Mis. 346. 322  Festival calendar: Calendar of A.D. 354, with Salzman (1990); Calendar of Polemius Silvius of 448/49. Traditional festivals under Justinian: see Maas (1992) 45–56, which did not include the Floralia, on which see Mulryan (2011) 219–20. See also Lançon (2002) 141–48 on the survival of festivals in Rome. 323   Night procession during Maioumas: at Antioch, to stadium: Sev. Ant. Hom. 95 (PO 25.93–94/537–38), bishop (AD 511–18), echoed in Malalas 12.3 (torches and lights needed at Maioumas for all-night revels in a passage relating to the time of Commodus); at Edessa to the theatre: Josh. Styl. 30 (AD 497/98), with Greatrex and Watt (1999), using qandela a loan word from Greek, which might mean ‘light’, but most likely means candle, with thanks to J. Watt pers. comm.

Street Processions

processions, at least in 4th c. Pontus.324 It is likely that direct conflict with the activities of the Church was not common, and that many festivals were light-hearted and good-humoured, even if drunkenness was widespread. The routes of festival street movements are not often described. For those of the Kalends, Libanius records revellers banging on the doors of shops as they passed, keeping the owners awake, suggesting that the main avenues were the primary setting. According to Asterius, during this festival, the poor asked for presents from the rich, which involved groups going from house to house.325 These greetings took the form of a salutatio, at which coins were given out by the patron, especially governors (a detail which both Libanius and Asterius record). There were also visits by children (perhaps in small groups rather than in a large cortege) who called on houses to offer gifts of decorated fruit, in the hope of more precious presents in return.326 It seems likely that most other festival processions included three recurring spatial elements: streets and squares, entertainment buildings, and temples. The sources described above make it clear that, in the second half of the 4th c., festival processions evidently passed through the forum / agora and the colonnaded streets of central and eastern Mediterranean cities. Theatres were likely a common end point, as they were for the Maiuma.327 This is unsurprising, given that many festivals involved the provision of games.328 Laws aimed at 324  Night procession for Kalends: at Antioch: Joh. Chrys. kal. 1.2 (PG 48.954) (Antioch according to Mayer (2002) 511–12, so AD 386–97); in Pontus: Asterius Amas. Hom. 4 (PG 40.219) where Kalends trips from house to house can last through the day until the evening (AD 400). On the Kalends in general see Harris (2011) and Meslin (1970). 325  Route of processions: shop doors passed by revellers: Lib. Progymnasmata 13.5.6 (‘companion piece’ to Or. 9, written in AD 392 in edn. of latter by Norman (1969) xlix and liii); going from house to house during Kalends: Asterius Amas. Hom. 4 (PG 40.219) (AD 400); Lib. Progymnasmata 13.5.5 (implied), with gifts also sent between houses. See references to theatres and temples below. 326  Gifts at Kalends: at Turin: Maximus of Turin Serm. 98.2; in Africa: August. Serm. 198.3 (PL 38.1025); in Pontus: Asterius Amas. Hom 4 (PG 40.217–19) (formal audiences, children giving ὀπώρας ἀργυρίῳ καθηλωμένας); at Antioch: supported by Lib. Or. 27.12–13; Lib. Progymnasmata 13.5.8–9 (audience of governors, with gifts presented to officiales by city councillors and those undertaking circus liturgies), plus see previous note. 327  Theatres etc. visited in festivals: in Africa: August. Serm. 198.2 (PL 38.1025); at Antioch for Maiuma: Sev. Ant. Hom. 95 (PO 25.537–38) (going to Daphne where was Olympic stadium); John. Chrys. Hom. in Matt. 7.6 (PG 57.79–80) (naked women swimming in theatre reported); at Aphrodisias: Roueché (1993) 188–89 and see also n. 299. 328  Other games: as part of the Floralia (Rome): Calendar of A.D. 354 plus Mulryan (2011) 219; Kalends (Africa): August. Serm.

213 protecting temples for the purpose of festivals (at both Rome and Edessa) note that the sacred buildings were still a focus, especially in an extra-mural setting.329 At Rome, M. Mulryan has connected the restoration of a temple of Flora / Venus in the 380s or a little later, to the holding of associated festival games. Admittedly, restorations were rare. Yet, there were probably others which can be related to festivals: one should not forget Tetrarchic and Julianic construction work on temples at Daphne (outside Antioch). Some of the motivation for this building activity could have been to support the Olympic Games held in the adjacent stadium.330 Libanius records a second type of Kalends procession which suggests such connections existed: at first light on 1st January, horse breeders at Antioch led torch-lit processions to the temples, to petition the gods for success in races, whilst attendants scattered gold coins to the crowds en route.331 Severus (bishop of Antioch 512–18) harshly criticised Christians who participated in a ‘procession for Olympian Zeus’ during the Maiuma festival. But it is far from certain that the persistence of festivals involving traditional imagery can be taken as a survival of paganism. Christian participants in the Kalends processions at Ravenna, with their (masks of) gods, in the mid 5th c. did not think so. They were adamant that their role did not indicate any support for paganism, but that it was harmless fun, a sentiment echoed by the 4th c. Jerusalem Talmud.332 Yet, given that paganism survived in some places into the 6th c., this feeling cannot have been universal: families who practiced pagan rituals in private 198.2 (PL 38.1025) (mime / pantomime, venationes, chariot races in respective buildings). The six consular processions in Justinianic Cple also have entertainment buildings as their terminus, likely following directly on from the Kalends festival: Just. Nov. 105.1 (AD 537). 329  Temples visited during festivals are protected: Cod. Theod. 16.10.3 (AD 346/42, to prefectus urbis Romae), 16.10.8 (AD 382, to dux of Osrhoene, so perhaps Edessa). 330   Temples restored in association with festivals: at Rome: Mulryan (2011), drawing on the anonymous Carmen contra Paganos, discussed on p. 212; at Antioch (Daphne), Diocletian built a temple, a subterranean shrine of Hecate, along with temples inside the new stadium: Malalas 12.38; Julian restored the temple of Apollo see Julian Ep. 80 and also Cod. Iust. 8.10.7. 331  Race horses led to temples at Kalends: Lib. Progymnasmata 13.5.9 (Antioch, probably written AD 392, see n. 324 above). 332  Christians in festival processions: at Antioch: Sev. Ant. Hom. 95 (PO 25.537–38) (AD 511–18) the identification with Maiuma is based on the similarity of costume to that of Edessa in n. 298 above. It could conceivably be for the Olympic Games; at Ravenna: Peter Chrysologus Or. 155 and 155bis (ca. AD 433– 50); parallels: The Jerusalem Talmud, composed in the late 4th c. but drawing on 3rd to 4th c. material, and states that it is not idolatry to attend theatre shows where there is no sacrifice: Jacobs (1998) 337, taken from Webb (2008) 35.

214 might have found festival visits to temples especially memorable.333 These customs seem to have changed over the course of the 5th c.: legislation which encouraged the continued use of temples in festivals (of 346/42 and 382) was included in the Theodosian Code, published in 438/39, but not in the Code of Justinian in the early 6th c. In the second half of the 5th c., the silence of the sources makes it likely that many traditional festival processions either faded, or were challenged, like the Lupercalia in Rome.334 In the 6th c., festivals were probably increasingly confined to the theatres, which were still active in much of the East.335 Alternatively, celebrations might be restricted to dinner parties within private houses, as in the case of the Brumalia.336 Only the Kalends is definitely attested as having an active street presence through and beyond the 6th c.337 Christian Processions It is not my intention to produce an exhaustive account of Christian processions within this chapter, as they have been studied by others.338 As liturgical events, they deserve to be studied primarily as part of devotional activities that were centred on churches. In contrast, I am interested here in their impact within public space beyond churches. I also feel that there has been too much emphasis on the ability of Christian processions to dominate urban landscapes or create a new mental topography within cities, without taking into consideration the wider processional culture of the time. My own objec333  Survival of paganism: in late 5th c. Caria: Zac. V. Sev. p. 40; in late 6th c. Sardinia: Greg. Ep. 9.204. 334  Decline of festivals: Cod. Theod. 16.10.3 (AD 346/42), 16.10.8 (AD 382), are not found in Cod. Iust. 8. Lupercalia: Pope Gelasius Ep. 100 (Coll. Avell. 453‑64) (CSEL 35.1 pp. 453–64). 335  Theatres as surviving festival centres, still active in 6th c.: see n. 326 above for Aphrodisias, with also Saradi (2006) 310–24 and Lavan (2007b) 43–44, 153–55; late facilities for water spectacles, likely associated with Maiuma: Lavan (2007b) 153, 155, Traversari (1960) and Segal (1985–89), plus see n. 299 above. 336  Houses as surviving festival centres: for Maiuma: Julian Mis. 362D (concerning Antioch); for Brumalia (as based around banquets): Malalas 7.7 and Choricius Or.13.10–13 (in lust. Brumalia). 337  Kalends processions in and beyond the 6th c.: see references collected in Harris (2011) 18–27, especially C. Const. in Trullo Canon 62 (Mansi 11.972). 338  Christian processions in general: see especially Bailey (1971) 93–106, Evenou (1987a) and Baldovin (1987), with references to earlier literature, of which Martimort (1955) is still stimulating, with other papers in the same volume. I do not think that the ‘processions’ identified from mosaics and wall paintings by Mathews (1999) 150–76 can be clearly distinguished as such. They lack an architectural setting, vehicles, and animals, spectators or a structured organisation which would confirm they are something more than a line of figures depicted for decorative purposes.

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tive here is to undertake a limited treatment of Christian processions to compare them to others, and also to consider their precise physical manifestations. Scholars of Medieval Europe—who are familiar with the processions described here, and their later documentation— might need to take special care in reading my study. It is far from certain that all Christian processions which had their origin in Late Antiquity, such as the supplication procession, were really the same in dress, route, or urban function as they were in later centuries. It is worth asking exactly what behaviour can be attested where. We need to resist the temptation to see late antique evidence through the prism of what came after, or of what came before. Christians were initially slow to undertake street processions, being suspicious and critical of those of pagans. Tertullian reacted against the pompa circensis, with its parade of pagan gods, to create the Christian metaphor of the pompa diaboli. Others sought to dissuade fellow believers from joining the pagan processions which traditionally structured civic political life: the council of Eliberi in 304/308 forbade Christians from going up to the Capitol at Rome to witness sacrifices to Jupiter, an interdiction which may reflect their attendance at the consular inauguration parade. Later in the 4th c., Christian writers such as Lactantius and Gregory of Nazianzus, disapproved of pagan festival processions through the streets. The former regarded them as empty displays for childish crowds, as if they were theatrical and vain, quite apart from their promotion of false gods.339 Yet, this situation had changed by the later 4th c. Processions within churches, as part of the liturgy, can be attested in the 360s at Laodicea in Phrygia, and in ca. 381–84 they are recorded by the pilgrim Egeria at Jerusalem.340 By the end of 4th c., we hear of Christian 339  Christian disapproval of pompa diaboli, originating in a critique of the circus processions which carried statues of pagan gods: see Jürgens (1972) (not seen) and Waszink (1947), scrutinising Tertullian, with earlier bibliography; of participation in pagan processions: C. Ilib. Canon 59 (Mansi 2.15); of pagan pompae: Lactant. Div. inst. 2.3.7; Greg. Naz. Or. 38.5–6 (PG 36.316). 340  Processions within churches: from the later 4th c.: in the liturgy of Jerusalem, (ca. AD 381–84), mainly within the Constantinian Holy Sepulchre complex: Egeria 24.7, 24.11–12, 26.1, 27.3, 30.3, 32.2, 41.1; the Council of Laodicea in AD 363–64 (C. Laod. Canon 56 (Mansi 1.2.574)) implies an ordered processional entry of the priests and bishop into church, suggesting that processions were expected, at least within churches; from the 6th c.: Duchesne (1898) 77 (entry of celebrants in eastern liturgies, from 6th c.), 154–55 (ditto in Roman liturgy, from 8th c.), 181 (ditto in liturgy from St. Germain of Paris of later 6th c.), 78 (procession of oblation in Constantinopolitan liturgy, from Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite, late 5th–early 6th c.), 194 (procession of oblation in Paris liturgy).

Street Processions

processions being undertaken on major urban avenues, at Jerusalem, Antioch, Constantinople, and elsewhere in the East. They are also attested in the West from the 5th c.341 These processions were public events, with a similar profile to those carried out by wealthy patrons, or by governors marching from their praetorium to the law court. Unless one group was given a monopoly, they represented a key measure of the relative status of Christian groups within a city. At Jerusalem, the liturgy seen by Egeria had processional elements, which appear to be both elaborate and standardised. During Christian festivals in the Holy City, processions occurred both within sanctuaries (such as at the Golgotha-Anastasis Basilica complex), and also between major holy sites, using the main streets of the city.342 Elsewhere, processions initially appear as exceptional events, as if Christian street rituals had a slow start outside of the Holy City. At Antioch under Julian, we have a procession with the singing of psalms for the translation of the relics of St. Babylas, which were expelled by the emperor from near the sanctuary of Apollo at Daphne. Later, they were held in the city to assuage imperial anger, following the Statues Riot of 387. At Constantinople, Gregory of Nazianzus records a procession he led through rain in 380, to take possession of a church from Arians. For the same city, when Chrysostom was bishop, the relics of St. Phocas were treated to a solemn procession, which included a display of lights on the Bosphorus. All these events were clearly outside of any ecclesiastical calendar, and reveal that processional behaviour was not merely enshrined in liturgy but was entirely natural to Christians growing up in Mediterranean cities at this time. Yet, in the decades after Chrysostom, distinctly Christian processions were accepted as part of the civic life of the capital, with urban prefects and senators, parading to greet new relics. By 444, it was considered noteworthy that a magister officiorum with an injured foot was absent from the emperor’s Epiphany procession to church, as if the leading

341  Processions within cities, 4th–5th c.: see n. 343, 346–47. 342  Processions (in street) of liturgical year in Jerusalem (ca. AD 381–84) excluding ambiguous examples: Egeria 27.6–7 (9th hour on 4th day of week during Lent: Sion to Anastasis), 31.1–31.4 (Palm Sunday: Mount of Olives to Anastasis, with children bearing olive or palm branches, escorting the bishop ‘in the same manner as the Lord was of old’), 36.2–3 (Good Friday: Imbomon to Gethsemane to Golgotha in Anastasis complex), 43.2–9 (Whitsuntide: Martyrium / Great Church to Sion, then Eleona / Imbomon to Martyrium / Great Church), 49.3 (Church dedication days: to Martyrium / Great Church or to Eleona). This is not a complete text, so other days of processions can be envisaged.

215 figures of the court were expected to participate in such rites.343 From the early 5th c., descriptions of Christian processions become commonplace, and different varieties emerged. A few developed out of earlier civic practice, like the ecclesiastical adventus referred to above.344 Two processions at Rome seem to have taken over from pagan rites for the lustration of the crops. Of these, the Litania Maior (later the ‘major rogation’) took place on the same day (25th April) as a pagan predecessor, the Robigalia, although its Christian ‘equivalent’ is only attested from 598, when it does not seem to have been held on the same date. Some scholars have also suggested that it followed the same route, although this is based on very slight evidence. Another procession on 2nd February has been connected to the Amburvalia only on early medieval texts.345 If continuities with the pagan past did 343  Processions as exceptional events: at Antioch for St. Babylas relics: Joh. Chrys. pan. Bab.1 and 2; Socrates Hist. eccl. 3.18; Sozom. Hist. eccl. 5.19.17–19; Julian, Mis. 361B (AD 362); for Statues Riot: Sozomen Hist. Eccl. 7.23 (AD 387, with people divided into choirs to sing psalms); at Cple, for relics of St. Phocas: Joh. Chrys. de S. Hieromartyre Phoca 1 (PG 50.699–700) ca. 402–404 (I have not been able to establish when); to take charge of church: Greg. Naz. Poemata de se ipso 1305–1410 (PG 37.1120–22); Socrates Hist. eccl. 5.7 = Sozom. Hist. eccl. 7.5 (AD 380, during Council of Constantinople); at Tomis: Sozom. Hist. eccl. 6.21 (AD 368–69), see n. 366 above. Processions at Cple with ‘all the Senate’ and leading officials: see n. 26. Magister officiorum is absent from emperor’s Epiphany procession to church: Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 306 (AD 444). The sense of the text is that this absence was noticed by the empress who (fatally) sent him a gift of food. 344   As based on secular practice: adventus for bishops: see nn. 26–27 above. See also the inauguration of Gallic bishops, related to consular inauguration, below n. 402. 345  Christian processions shadowing pagan ones: Litania maiores following most of route of pagan Robigalia procession at Rome (Ov. Fasti 4.901–36) on same date (25 April): Dyer (2007); Twyman (2004) 212–213; Möller (1938); Dumézil (1974) 168–70, 269; de Bruyne (1922) 14–26, of which I have only seen Dyer, who explores the route, and Twyman who challenges it. The rite existed and was considered very old in AD 598 (Greg. Ep. Appendix 1.4), when there is no evidence it was fixed in date or celebrated on St. Mark’s Day (25 April): Leclercq (1948) 1740, suggesting a date in September. The route in Gregory’s letter is given only as S. Lorenzo in Lucina to St. Peter’s; a passage over the Milvian Bridge is not attested until the Gregorian Sacramentary. No lustration of the crops is mentioned by Gregory. The route of the Robigalia is known from Verrius Flaccus frag. 3.23 (the Fasti Praenestini) who notes that the ceremony takes place at the 5th milestone of the Via Claudia [read by most as Clodia], which would take it north, beyond the Milvian Bridge. Yet Ovid places it on the way from Rome to Nomentum, where the Claudian tribe held land (see CIL 1 p. 392). Some scholars also suggest that a procession on Feb 2nd replaced the Amburvalia, based only on its general function and date, not on any late antique evidence, so I will not explore it here. The idea is first recorded in the early 8th c. by

216 exist at Rome (and this is not proven) then they were exceptions, with no parallels from elsewhere. Christian processions were most often linked to universally important ecclesiastical festivals, such as Easter, from the later 4th c. onwards, not only at Jerusalem but also at Amasea in Pontus (ca. 400), where the faithful adorned themselves to ‘march through the streets with joy’. Easter processions are again attested in the 6th c. at Emerita and at Clermont / Arvernis (with white-robed, newly-baptised Christians). These few attestations are likely just the most memorable part of a full calendar, as described by Egeria for Jerusalem.346 Alternatively, processions might commemorate the annual feast days of local patron saints, as at Lyon, Emerita, Rome, Edessa, and Gaza, marking the date at which the martyr had been buried, or another anniversary if the city did not possess a tomb. In the second category, we have a litany honouring the mother of God, introduced by the emperor Maurice at Blachernai, in the eastern capital. At Edessa, the commemoration of a local saint involved carrying the communion vessels through the streets on a silver litter, a custom we do not hear of elsewhere, though it seems to be implied for mid 5th c. Rome.347 Processions for saints’ days could be part of a wider system of stationes (a ‘stational liturgy’), whereby the main Mass of the day was said by the bishop or his representative in different churches within a city on different days of the calendar, necessitating a movement of the clergy through the streets to the distant basilica, often accompanied by crowds. A calendrical system was clearly established at Jerusalem by the 380s, as the unparalleled descriptions of Egeria reveal. These attest Bede de tempore ratione 12 (PL 90.351), made clearest in an unattributed sermon of 9th to 10th c. date, explored by de Bruyne (1922). 346  Processions on festivals of Christian calendar: e.g. at Jerusalem: Egeria as above n. 341 (ca. AD 381–84); in Pontus: Asterius Amas. Hom. 4 (PG 40.217) (for Easter, ca. 400); at Emerita: V. SS. Patr. Emerit. 5.11 (for Easter, under bishop Masona ca. 570 to ca. 600); at Clermont / Arvernis: Gregory of Tours, Hist. 5.11 for Easter and for Ascension Day with bishop Avitus (AD 576); at Rome: the stational liturgy here (see below n. 347) is also connected to the calendar, and is late antique in organisation, although it does not survive in documents of this date. I do not wish to examine here how many festival processions of Cple in Cer. might have late antique origins. 347  Processions for festivals of local saints: at Emerita: Gregory of Tours Glor. mart. 90 (no date, annual event for Gregory); at Lyon: Sid. Apoll. Ep. 5.17 (AD 461–67); at Rome: (for St. Peter and Paul) Amb. Hymni 71.25–30 (PL 17.1253–54); at Edessa: Josh. Styl. 28 (AD 496/97); at Cple for Mother of God (not ‘local saint’): Theophanes A.M. 6080 (AD 587/88), possibly for Feast of Assumption, for which see edn. of Mango and Scott (1997) 388 n. 18; at Gaza, (in the reign of Justinian): Choricius Or. 2.93. For silver used at stationes in tituli at Rome (though no street exhibition mentioned): Liber Pont. 48.11 (Hilarius AD 461–68).

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to numerous related street processions, sometimes reflecting the movements of Christ within the city, as described by the Gospels. Other sources, of 5th c. and later date, show that the custom persisted in Jerusalem throughout the period. A stational liturgy existed at Oxyrhynchus by the 6th c. and was probably in place at Rome by the later 6th c., although in neither case can we confirm it involved processions. We must be careful not to over-read our sources based on later practice, as it can be tempting to imagine a fixed calendar of movements from a small amount of evidence. Equally, we cannot assume that what Egeria saw at Jerusalem was necessarily replicated elsewhere. This is clear from the evidence laid out by J. Baldovin in his excellent study: patterns developed on a local basis, as much as or more than they were influenced by trends elsewhere.348 For Rome, the most convincing late antique evidence presented by Baldovin comes from sermons given by Pope Gregory the Great (590–604), which reveal that he preached in distant churches on the anniversary of martyr depositions and birthdays, suggesting that an annual calendar of stations was in place. Given what else we know of Gregory’s activities, this might imply a procession took place to each site. Certainly, papally consecrated bread was delivered to titular basilicas by acolytes already in 416. These same churches were also being visited for papal eucharistic celebrations in the 460s, when silver was provided by Pope Hilarius for the purpose. But regular processions to Roman churches, set within the main liturgical calendar (such as Ash Wednesday) cannot be confirmed until the mid 8th c., although processions honouring the Annunciation, Dormition, and Nativity of Mary, and the presentation in the Temple, were brought in during the late 7th c. by Pope Sergius I. For Constantinople, it is also not certain when a regular stational liturgy came into being. Bishops celebrated at distant churches and held public processions from at least the episcopate of Chrysostom, but we cannot be sure there was a fixed calendar, or that each liturgical movement around a city was served by processions, until the 9th c. This is, nonetheless likely, given that Arian groups at this time carried out processions, accompanied by antiphonal singing, from the city out to extra-mural places of worship, and back again ‘on

348   Stational liturgy: at Oxyrhynchus, (AD 535/36): Papa­ constantinou (1996); at Cple, by the 5th c.: Baldovin (1987) 167–226; at Rome: Baldovin (1987) 147–53; elsewhere in the West: see Evenou (1987a) 245–46; Felbecker (1995). It is beyond the scope of this chapter to go into the sources for this topic. Saxer (1989) also resumes the evidence for processions for Rome very well, both for Late Antiquity and after the 7th c.

Street Processions

all solemn festivals and on the first and last days of the week’.349 Processions on festival days, to honour saints or for Easter, were evidently happy events. It is easy to imagine that an Easter procession, of young and old, in clear spring morning light, was an occasion for greetings and smiles, amidst more spiritually-grounded rejoicing, as the Resurrection was celebrated and the newlybaptised were displayed. It is worth noting that dancing by Christians during festivals is attested at Caesarea in Cappdocia for Easter in the later 4th c., and for festivals of saints at the tomb of Cyprian in Carthage ca. 400, at the tomb of St. Thecla at Seleucia in Isauria in the mid 5th c., at the column of St. Symeon Stylites near Antioch in the later 6th c., and at various Christian festivals at Arles, earlier in the same century. Some patristic writers felt such dancing was inappropriate, and even licentious, but their views were only part of a spectrum of clerical opinion. Ambrose supported Christian dancing which was active and spiritual, whilst at the shrine of Thecla and the column of Symeon it was accepted, as it probably was elsewhere, as part of the veneration of martyr’s shrines, notably occurring at the moment of communion.350 One might imagine that Christian fes349  Gradual development: at Rome: Gregory the Great sermons: references tabulated in Baldovin (1987) 124. Consecrated bread to tituli: Innocent Ep. 25.5(8) (PL 20.556–557) (AD 416). Silver for stationes in 460s: Liber Pont. 48.11 (Hilarius AD 461–68) (vol. 1 p .244). Processions relating to Mary / presentation in the Temple: Lib. Pont. 86.14 (Sergius I AD 687–701). Regular processions to churches in liturgical calendar (Ash Wednesday), mid 8th c.: Baldovin (1987) 129 drawing on Hadrianum version of Gregorian sacramentary; at Cple: distant churches used by Chrysostom: Baldovin (1987) 182–83; fixed calendar with processions, in 9th c. Typicon: discussed by Baldovin (1987) 190–97. Habits of Arians: Sozom. Hist. eccl. 8.8 = Socrates Hist. eccl. 6.8, quoting the latter. 350   Christian dance in public: in Italy: Amb. In ps. 118 7.27 (PL 15.1290); Amb. In Luc. 6.8 (PL 15.1670) (no location specified); at Caesarea in Cappadocia: Basil Hom. 14.1 (PG 31.455c), 14.8 (PG 31.460d–461b) (in a church); at Carthage: August. Serm. 311.6–7 (PL 38.1416) (at tomb of St. Cyprian); at Seleucia in Isauria: Miracles of St. Thecla 33 (mid 5th c.); at Antioch: Evagr. Hist. eccl. 1.14 (rustics dance round pillar of St. Symeon Stylites, within sanctuary, during later 6th c. (lifetime of Evagrius)); at Arles: Caesarius Sermones 11.5, (bishop (AD 502–42), PCBE 4.1.386–410 Caesarivs 1). See Backman (1952) esp. 12–43 and Bertaud (1957) for further references, noting the link with the celebration of the victory of martyrs, and recommended by leading churchmen. MacMullen (1997) 103–107 gives a rather tendentious interpretation, seeming to think it is impossible that dancing could be derived from Christian devotional practice, although this is very clear for the shrine of St. Thecla, where the dances occur around the moment of communion; Bitton-Ashkelony (2005) 33–39 surveys 4th c. patristic criticism of the excesses of martyr festivals, with its criticism of drunkenness and other vices, which denigrates all such dancing.

217 tival processions reflected the same spirit. At Gaza, ca. 535–48, Choricius tells us that the city was filled with a festive atmosphere on its saint’s day, attracting crowds of visitors and locals, whilst buildings were decorated with banners. The bishop, with other clergy, led a procession for natives and visitors, from church to church, that passed through the gaily-decorated agora. The festival featured exotic markets that were illuminated into the night, public banquets, and entertainments, including the reading of orations.351 Street rituals held on such days would have projected the Christian community, and indeed their city as a whole, in a positive manner through the uncomplicated language of celebration. Processions of supplication projected the opposite sentiments. These already existed amongst pagans in earlier centuries, but later became popular amongst Christians, especially from the mid 5th c. They might take place in a time of disease, as happened during the later 6th c. in Gaul, at Rome, and at Ankara, as well as during a solar eclipse at Edessa in 499/500, or when crops were threatened by bad weather, as at Constantinople in 399. Supplications might also be held after earthquakes, as in Constantinople in 437/38, 447/50, 547/48, and 553/54, in the cities around Antioch in 526, and in the Syrian metropolis itself in 528/29. In 562/63 a north wind kept (grain) ships away from the eastern capital, leading to a litany being declared by the patriarch, probably in an attempt to avoid famine.352 The most dramatic proces351   Festival at Gaza, (ca. AD 535–48): saint’s day (Choricius Or. 2.27), visitors and locals (1.88–1.90, 2.58), banners (2.62), procession (Or. 1.93) though here ‘in public’ rather than ‘in the midst of the market place’ might be the meaning of διά μέσης ἀγορᾶς, decoration of market place (1.84, 2.61), exotic markets (1.85, 1.87, 2.62), illuminated into the night (1.87, 2.63–65), public banquets (1.83) and public entertainments, though could mean just feasting here (1.83), reading of orations (introduction to Or.1 (1.2), 1.3, 2.72). 352  Processions of supplication: (i) during plague at Rheims: Gregory of Tours Glor. conf. 78 (mid 6th c., as after Remigius, but before composition of Glor. conf. ca. (AD 587/88), PCBE 4.2.1600–1604 Remigivs 2, bishop (AD 476/83–511/33/35); at Clermont / Arvernis: V. Patrum 6.6 (AD 553); at Rome (AD 590): Gregory of Tours Hist.10.1; John the Deacon Life of Gregory the Great 1.42 (PL 75.80–81); Paul the Deacon Hist. 3.24; at Rome (AD 602) Greg. Ep. Appendix 9; at Ankara: V. Theod. Syc. 45; (ii) against drought at Clermont / Arvernis: V. Patrum 4.3 (early 6th c.); (iii) after eclipse of sun and collapse of wall at Edessa: Josh. Styl. 36 (AD 499/500); (iv) after crops damaged by weather at Cple: Joh. Chrys. theatr. 1 (PG 56.265) (AD 399) with Mayer (2005) 95 for dating, with a litany to the ‘apostles’, likely the Church of the Holy Apostles, given mention of Saints Timothy and Andrew; (v) after earthquake at Cple: Malalas 14.22; Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 307 (AD 450), but considered a doublet for the earthquake of AD 447 in the edn. of Whitby and Whitby (1989) 80, n. 262, following careful study of sources by Croke (1981), who also notes a procession

218 sions, however, seem to have taken place during sieges, when a population faced wholesale rape, robbery, and murder. So, we see ‘sackcloth, ashes and prayer’ during the Persian siege of Nisibis in 359 (the earliest example I have come across), whilst in 474 processions were held to help the people of Clermont / Arvernis against the Visigoths. Such a procession also took place at Apamea in 540, on the arrival of the Persians, when a miraculous flame, seen by Evagrius, is said to have followed the bishop as he carried a relic of the True Cross around his church.353 Supplicatory processions might also be held on the anniversary of traumatic events, when a (successful) supplicatory procession had first been held: this can be attested in the eastern capital from the 6th c., on the days on which earthquakes struck.354 Other supplicatory processions—the rogations (later known as the minor rogations) —became established in Gaul from the 460s/70s, in Hispania from the early 6th c., and in Rome from the 8th c. Here, they were seen mainly as a three-day preparation for Ascension Day. However, at Emerita they were associated with fertility, foreshadowing the blessing of the crops in this rite during later centuries.355 with chants of ‘Lord have mercy’ for an earthquake in AD 436, which is recorded by Theophanes A.M. 5930 (AD 437/38), with commentary and other references in edn. of Mango and Scott (1997) 145 n. 4, from which the date is taken; at Cple: litanies chanted though no procession mentioned: Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 328 (AD 533); at cites around Antioch, earthquake: Malalas 18.27 (AD 526); (vi) from fear of a dust cloud caused by Vesuvius at Cple, litanies performed: Theophanes A.M. 5966 (date AD 473/74 from Mango and Scott (1997) edn.); (vii) for respite from north wind blocking ships, litany to St. Diomedes: Theophanes A.M. 6055 (date AD 562/63 from Mango and Scott (1997) edn.). 353  During a siege, at Nisibis (AD 359): Ephr. Hymn 15.113 (not seen); at Clermont / Arvernis (AD 474): against the Visigoths Sid. Apoll. Ep. 7.1.3 (actually rogations); at Apamea (AD 540, procession inside a church): Procop. Pers. 2.11.16–20; Evagr. Hist. eccl. 4.26; at Cple (AD 626): does not seem to have happened, but was interpolated by later writers, on which see Pentcheva (2002); at Bazas, siege (mid 5th c.): Gregory of Tours Glor. Mart. 12. 354  Procession as a commemorative event: at Cple, with people performing a litany to a site outside the city, for an earthquake: Theophanes A.M. 6046 (date AD 553/54 from Mango and Scott (1997) edn.). Deliverance from the Avar surprise of AD 617 was also commemorated annually here: see McCormick (1986) 75, n. 143, for references to a commemorative procession still active in the 10th c. 355  Rogations: in Gaul, usually for three days before Ascension, first at Vienne in 460s/70s, then to rest of Gaul: Sid. Apoll. Ep. 7.1 (Clermont / Arvernis, AD 474); C. Orleans I (AD 511) Canon 27; Caesarius Sermones 207 (de Letania) (PCBE 4.1.386– 410 Caesarivs 1, bishop AD 502–42); Avitus of Vienne In rogationibus homilia (PL 59.289–91) (bishop before AD 491–518, PCBE 4.1.240–63 Avitvs 2); Gregory of Tours Hist. 2.34 (Vienne under same Avitus), 4.5 (Clermont / Arvernis under bishop

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By the 6th c., it seems that processions had become one of the most popular components of Christian liturgy. They can be seen taking place on several occasions in rural settings in the Life of St. Theodore of Sykeon, set in late 6th c. Anatolia, and also in Merovingian Gaul, from the writings of numerous authors.356 The routes of urban processions sometimes involved movement from one church to another within the walls,357 perhaps as part of a stational liturgy, and especially from the main church to a shrine outside the city, often a martyrium. Processions to extra-mural churches are recorded for the West: at Lyon in the 460s, at Tours in 576, at Emerita in the 580s, and for the East: at Edessa in 497/98, at Amida in 525/26, at Constantinople from 587/88, and at Pessinus ca. 600. Many processions in Rome ended up at St. Peter’s, which was also extra-mural, although only nominally so, as it started to become a nodal point in the city.358 In contrast, supplicatory processions, could Gallus PCBE 4.1.849–51 Gallvs 3, bishop (AD 525/26–51)), 4.13 (Clermont / Arvernis under bishop Cautinus PCBE 4.446–447 Cautinus 2, AD 551–71) and 9.6 (Paris, ca. AD 580) in the last two of which he confirms that the rite involves a procession); in Hispania, after Pentecost and in November: Council of Gerona (AD 517), Canon 2 (Mansi 8.549), with later references in Leclercq (1910) 2460; at Emerita, link to appearance of blossom: Gregory of Tours Glor. Mart. 90 (no date, current in lifetime of Gregory of Tours); at Rome, adopted in ca. 800 by Leo III: Lib. Pont. 98.43 (vol. 2 p. 12). 356  Christian processions in Anatolian villages (ca. 600): V. Theod. Syc. 36 (edn. Festigière (1970) 32) (against locusts); 43 (edn. Festugière (1970) 38–39) (against evil spirits liberated by tomb opening); 50 (edn. Festugière (1970) 44) (against heavy rain, also at Jerusalem); 51 (edn. Festugière (1970) 44–45) (against hailstones); 112 (edn. Festugière (1970) 88–89) (annual procession, Saturday after Ascension Day); 114–15 (edn. Festugière (1970) 89–91) (against evil spirits liberated by tomb opening). Icons were processed within the army to motivate troops, from the time of Maurice, first when facing the Persians at Solachon in 586: Theophylact Simocatta 2.2.4. 357  Route, between churches inside city: at Rome: Greg. Ep. Appendix 4, 9 and above n. 347 for stational liturgy. See also n. 360 below for Trier. 358   From central church to extramural shrine: at Lyon: Sid. Apoll. Ep. 5.17 (AD 461–67); at Emerita: V. SS. Patr. Emerit. 5.5, 5.11 (AD 580s); at Tours, (AD 576): Gregory of Tours Hist. 5.4, from cathedral to basilica of St. Martin at Epiphany (PLRE 3.1088–89 Roccolenus); at Edessa: Josh. Styl. 31 (AD 497/98); at Amida (likely): Chronicle of Zuqnin (61) (AD 525/26); at Cple (AD 587/88): Theophanes A.M. 6080 (A.D. 587/88); at Pessinus (ca. AD 600): V. Theod. Syc. 101, see also 71 for a similar case; at Jerusalem: the liturgy preserved by Egeria (ca. AD 381–84) contains numerous references to processions out to extramural churches, particularly between the Holy Sepulchre complex and the Sion church, then beyond the walls; at Rome: processions to St. Peter’s: Pope Pelagius (AD 556–61) processed from St. Pancratius (3 km from city): Lib. Pont. 62.2; Gregory the Great (AD 590 and 602) from various tituli: see below n. 365; Constans II (AD 663) from S. Maria Maggiore: Lib. Pont. 78–2–3; at Cple: the processions of Arians, later in

Street Processions

involve routes around the territory of a city (to ward off plague),359 around city walls (during sieges),360 or between its main churches.361 A single procession at Antioch to celebrate the end of the episcopal schism ca. 410 came in from the western postern to the Great Church, passing through the agora. This route may have been chosen to evoke an adventus, signifying the acceptance of episcopal authority by a significant part of the Christian community. The whole procession sung a single hymn, in what Theodoret reports was a show of unity, which he believed discomforted pagans, Jews, and heretics.362 What is perhaps odd about Christian processions is that initially, there was little that was intrinsically religious about their physical appearance. Their material form (below) does not seem to have drawn on pagan sacrificial processions, with their garlands, victims, and white-robed participants. Indeed, the two types do not seem to overlap chronologically, perhaps explaining why we have no evidence of conflict between them. The act of collective walking does not seem to have been directly linked to any spiritual idea in the 4th c. There was no religious reason why one might go on a procession rather than hold a stationary vigil for a particular cause. Whilst the liturgy of Jerusalem did visit meaningful locations (in ‘mimetic processions’) which could be set into the narrative of the Passion, this story was not told as well as it might have been elsewhere. Nobody took the opportunity to dramatically re-enact the adventus of Christ on Palm Sunday, or to represent the events of Holy Week in the street in costume. Even at Jerusalem, in their primary setting, Baldovin has observed a series of missed opportunities in Egeria’s account, to visit

the episcopate of Chrysostom (AD 400–403), went from the city out to extra-mural places of worship, but this was because they were not permitted to gather inside the city: Sozom. Hist eccl. 8.8 = Socrates Hist. eccl. 6.8, with Bautz (1990c). 359  Around a city and its territory (in supplication), making a boundary to ward off plague: Gregory of Tours Glor. conf. 78 (at Rheims, between AD 511 and ca. 587/88, see n. 351 above). 360  Around city walls (in supplication): at Bazas (mid 5th c.): Gregory of Tours Glor. mart. 12, with date considered in edn. by Van Dam (1988) 34, n. 18; at Zaragoza (in AD 542): Gregory of Tours Hist. 3.29; at Cple (AD 626): does not seem to have happened, see Pentcheva (2002), but was interpolated by later writers, though in (2006) 41–43 she argues that an icon of Christ might have performed this role at the time, a subtle debate, based on an interpretation of contemporary Theodore Synkellos, into which I do not want to enter here. 361  Between main churches of a city (in secret supplication by bishop): at Trier (mid 6th c.): Gregory of Tours V. Patrum 17.4. 362  From city gate to main church: at Antioch, to end schism: Theod. Hist. eccl. 5.35 (ca. 410, based on position in text).

219 meaningful places, which were only later exploited.363 No-one seems to have wished to re-enact the steps of martyrs led out to execution, even when it was time to visit their tomb. On occasion, holy relics were exposed in procession, leading to reports of miracles, but it is only from the 6th c. that relics were deliberately brought out to physically spread the benefits of divine power, as attested by Gregory of Tours for Zaragoza and Rheims, and Gregory the Great for Nursia.364 The first Christian processions were usually just designed to go from one church to another, without snaking around the city to engage with it, or even to pick up followers. Neither were these early processions made long for the sake of piety: where we hear of it, distances were usually short.365 The going was slow, partly to help weary participants, who had expressed their devotion through fasting and night-time vigils.366 Pre-dawn processions did require commitment, but the physical form of the procession was not itself an exhibition of renunciation.367 In 590, Gregory the Great thought that piety demanded innovation with his ‘seven-fold litany’ but the ambition of Christian processions for most of Late Antiquity was far more limited.368 For the 4th and 363  Retracing the route of gospel narratives at Jerusalem: Egeria 29–42, made explicit at 31.3. Missed opportunities to do this in early processions: Baldovin (1987) 87–90. 364  Relics in procession: relics exposed, leading to miracles, but not necessarily with exhibition in mind: August. De. civ. D. 22.8 (Sinita, North Africa, carried by bishop Lucillus, ca. 403/11 to 426/37 PCBE 1.650 Lvcillvs); De. civ. D. 22.8; conf. 9.7 (16) (Milan, at time of translation of relics of St. Gervasius and Prostatius, AD 386); relics, for exhibition rather than translation, from 6th c.: Gregory of Tours Hist. 3.29 (Zaragoza AD 542, tunic of St. Vincent); Gregory of Tours Glor. conf. 78 (Rheims, cloth covering of tomb of St. Remigius (palla de beati sepulchro) paraded (mid 6th c., as after Remigius, but before composition of Glor. conf. ca. AD 587/88 PCBE 4.2.1600–1604 Remigivs 2, bishop AD 476/83–511/33/35); Greg. Dial. 3.15 (PL 77.257) (Nursia, tunic of St. Eutychius, d. AD 540). This is different to the adventus of relics, or translation, during which miracles might occur, e.g. Glor. mart. 88–89 (Toulouse, Bessay, not dated, in or before lifetime of Gregory of Tours, likely 5th–6th c.). 365  Processions length: e.g. short in most examples of Egeria at Jerusalem, but not in the case of a 65km Lenten rogation procession at Clermont / Arvernis: Gregory of Tours Hist. 4.5. 366  Processions speed: Greg. Nyss. V. Macr. 34 (actually a funeral). Slow speed because devotees weak from fasting and sleep loss: Egeria 31.4, 36.2, 43.7. 367  Processions timing, pre-dawn: Sid. Apoll. Ep. 5.17 (Lyon, A.D. 461–67); Egeria 25.6–7 (Jerusalem, ca. A.D. 381–84) (Bethlehem to Jerusalem, at Epiphany); 31.2–31.3 (Mount of Olives to Gethsemane to Great Church on night of Maundy Thursday to Good Friday). 368  Experiment in processions, Rome: Gregory of Tours Hist.10.1; John the Deacon Life of Gregory the Great 1.42 (PL 75.80–81); Paul the Deacon Hist. 3.24 (instigated by Gregory in face

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5th c., their external form did nothing more than represent the size and popularity of the Christian community to the wider city, in the same way as did the procession of a patron and his clients. This is not to say that the motivation of those involved was always to demonstrate group status to those outside their sect. It is unlikely that anyone taking part in a pre-dawn procession could achieve this: potential spectators were still in bed. Rather, the physical form of the procession was just passively inherited from other contemporary street movements, and only slowly acquired distinctive traits. Nevertheless, by the 6th c., we do hear of some very long processions in Gaul, as if piety increased with effort, and it is clear that they were by this stage the focus for considerable emotion, the significance of which is considered below. The physical appearance of Christian processions is fairly well-documented, though we do not have any ancient depictions. It is striking how homogeneous these processions were, in their organisation and character, across the whole late antique world, regardless of the occasions on which they were being undertaken. Of the participants, the most important were the clergy, especially the bishop. It was normally he who instigated and led a Christian procession, from the time of Gregory of Nazianzus onwards.369 Justinian enshrined in law the principle that the bishop or clergy must be present.370 Thus, we find lesser clergy, especially priests, in attendance.371 At Rome, monks and nuns are attested and choirs are sometimes mentioned.372 But these non-clerical groups were less important than the people

watching, who were the essential element, giving physical substance to the gestures of the clergy. The crowd could be any size, from a few congregants to the entire Christian community in a city, depending on the event, the latter perhaps especially likely for supplicatory processions in the face of imminent danger. The Council of Orleans in 511 decreed that even slaves must be allowed to stop work to participate in the rogation processions before Ascension.373 In Gregory’s innovatory procession of supplication, we hear of a differentiation between clerics, monks, nuns, men, married women, widows, and finally children with the poor. Each of the seven groups started at a different church in Rome and were, thus, likely to have held distinct places within the line when it merged into one.374 The antiphonal (call and response) nature of the singing heard in Christian processions from the 4th c., also suggests that some subdivisions existed. One might imagine that visually separate choirs sang a verse or two, or that alternate types of choirs, perhaps of women and men, sang in turn, despite being mixed in the line. Egeria in Jerusalem notes hymns being sung alongside psalms and separate ‘antiphonies’. She explains that both psalms and antiphonies could be sung in a responsive manner.375 At Antioch, ca. 387, processions were divided to sing antiphonal psalms punctuated by ‘Glory be to the Father’, according to comments attributed to Theodore of Mopsuestia. At Constantinople, ca. 400, Arian processions were formed into choirs who sang antiphonal hymns promoting their distinctive doctrines.376 The same vocal pattern could be used for

of disease in AD 590, starting from 7 different churches). Repeated in a slightly different form in AD 602: Greg. Ep. Appendix 9. 369  Bishops initiating processions, e.g.: at Tomis, under Valens (Sozom. Hist. eccl. 6.21, AD 368/69); at Cple, (AD 380) (Greg. Naz. Poemata de se ipso 1305–1410 (PG 37.1120–22)); at Antioch, ca. 410 (Theod. Hist eccl. 5.35) see n. 361; at Edessa, (AD 499/500) (Josh. Styl. 36); at Rome, under Gregory, (AD 590 and 602): see n. 365; in Gaul e.g. Gregory of Tours V. Patrum 6.6 (Clermont / Arvernis AD 553), Glor. mart. 12 (Bazas mid 5th c.); Hist. 4.5 (Clermont, under bishop Gallus PCBE 4.1.849– 51 Gallvs 3, bishop (AD 525/26–51)), 9.6 (Paris ca. AD 580). 370  Bishop or clergy must be present: Just. Nov. 123.32 (AD 546). Baldovin (1987) 58 points out that the bishops are always present in the processions at Jerusalem described by Egeria, around whose movement they seem to be constructed. 371  Other clergy present: Theod. Hist eccl. 5.35 (Antioch, ca. 410), see n. 361; Egeria 39.3 (Jerusalem, (ca. AD 381–84), episcopus cum omni clero). 372  Monks, nuns and choirs, at Rome, (AD 590): Gregory of Tours Hist.10.1 (chori psallentium), Paul the Deacon Hist. 3.24 (in which choro seems to be used just to describe singing participants rather than special singers); choirs are not mentioned in Greg. Ep. Appendix 9, describing a very similar procession, in AD 602.

373  Crowd size: entire Christian community of city during Easter processions, Jerusalem (Egeria e.g. 35.1, 36.3). Even slaves participate: Council of Orleans 511 (Canon 27). 374  Division of matrons, children, and others at Rome (AD 590 and 602): see n. 365. 375  Psalms (p), antiphonies (a) and hymns (y) in Christian processions: Egeria 25.2 (y), 27.6 (y and a), 27.7 (y), 29.1 (p), 29.4 (y and a), 31.1 (y), 31.2 (y and a with refrain ‘Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord’, thus Psalm 118), 35.4 (y), 36.1 (y), 36.2 (y), 36.3 (y), 39.4 (y), 40.1 (y), 40.2 (y), 43.2 (y), 43.6 (y), 43.8 (y) (all outside of churches), 27.3 (y), 27.7 (y), 30.3 (y), 32.2 (y), 34.1 (y), 38.2 (none), 39.2 (y), 39.4 (y), 40.1 (y), 43.7 (y), 46.4 (y), 47.1 (y) (all within Holy Sepulchre complex, Jerusalem). See that at 24.1 psalms are sung responsively like antiphons, repeated at 27.8 and at 24.3, 24.4, 24.12, 25.5, 29.2, 43.9 and 43.9 antiphons are distinct from psalms. 376  Antiphonal singing: at Jerusalem: see n. 375; at Antioch: Socrates Hist. eccl. 6.8; Sozom. Hist. Eccl. 7.23; Nicetas Choniates Thesaurus Orthodoxae Fidei 5.30 (PG 139.1390) (AD 387, time of Statues Riot); at Cple: Sozom. Hist eccl. 8.8 = Socrates Hist. eccl. 6.8 (ca. 400, introduced at time of Chrysostom and believed as having come from Antioch initially). This is perhaps why the body of Meletius, bishop of Antioch, was greeted with antiphonal psalms by cities on its return from Constantinople to Antioch ca. 381: Sozom. Hist. eccl. 7.10.

Street Processions

the litanies, so commonly attested in these processions, in both East and West, separated as they were by refrains of ‘Lord have mercy’.377 We do not know what hymns, as distinct from antiphonal psalms or litanies, were sung, although later Medieval processions made use of some hymns written in Late Antiquity.378 Both psalms and prayers seem to have been co-ordinated by the clergy, and gave them considerable power in choreographing large numbers of people.379 These songs and prayers, and the unsociable hours of some Christian processions, are likely to have given them their most distinctive characteristics. In terms of the precise order of participants, we can speculate that priests and choirs of boys headed the procession, with the bishop following shortly after, with the people leading off behind him. We have to rely on analogy with wider late antique practice, as no source informs us on this matter. There are indications that the clergy normally entered a church in procession before the bishop, as they had to wait for him before sitting down. The reverse order was likely on leaving.380 The presence of high-status individuals from the secular world could trouble the visual hierarchy: during a plague at Edessa in 500/501, the governor and the notables made a point of attending the heavily Christianised funeral processions which the bishop led, out of pious solidarity with the deceased.381 Quite where one put such people, or even more a pious emperor, would not have been easy to decide, but the obvious place for imperial figures was accompanying the bishop, in visual equality, as they did in 6th c. examples from Constantinople. The 377  Litanies, spread: Basil Ep. 207 and Amb. Ep. 40.16 (both later 4th c.) who both refer to well-established litanies (though only the latter associated it with a procession); at Cple: Theophanes A.M. 5930 (AD 437/38), attesting ‘Lord have mercy’; A.M. 6021 (AD 528/29 dates from Mango and Scott (1997) edn.); at Pessinus: V. Theod. Syc. 101 (early 7th c.); at Rome: Gregory of Tours Hist. 10.1 attesting ‘Lord have mercy’; Paul the Deacon Hist. 3.24 (AD 590); in Gaul: C. Orleans I (AD 511) Canon 27; in Hispania: Synod of Gerona (AD 517) Canon 3 (Mansi 8.549). 378  Processional hymns: see Messenger (1949) 375–78, citing use of hymns by Ambrose, Venantius Fortunatus, and Gregory the Great, which we cannot confirm in processional use within the 4th to mid 7th c. Milfull (2006) 44 n. 8 points out that the hymns of Fortunatus cannot be tied by late antique sources to an adventus of relics of the True Cross sent by Justin I and Sophia to a royal convent outside of Poitiers. 379  Psalms and prayers co-ordinated by the clergy: implied by Sozom. Hist. eccl. 7.23; made explicit by Sid. Apoll. Ep. 5.17 (Lyon, AD 461–67). 380  Order of participants: C. Laod. Canon 56 (Mansi 1.2.574), in which clergy entering a church before the bishop of Laodicea, (AD 363/64). 381   High-status secular individuals first: at Edessa in AD 500/501 (the governor and the notables): Josh. Styl. 43.

221 growing appetite of secular officials for instigating spontaneous Christian processions doubtless created further difficulties.382 The dress worn by those walking in Christian processions varied greatly depending on the context of the event, as well as on an individual’s status. Clear costumes for different types of procession do not seem to have been firmly established at this time. For a procession of supplication in Edessa, the whole community wore black garments of penitence, whilst in response to an earthquake of 447 Theodosius II walked with the Senate, people and clergy, barefoot, a habit repeated by desperate supplicants at Antioch in 528/29, processing in tears after two years of major tremors. Gregory of Tours recalls that the inhabitants of Zaragoza engaged in the rite in 542, with men wearing hair shirts and women following them weeping and wailing, dressed in black garments, as if attending the funerals of their husbands.383 In contrast, a supplicatory procession, set into the dream of a Hunnic king by Gregory, featured the wearing of white garments, as did a celebratory procession to the church of SS. Sergius and Symeon at Edessa, for the remission of the chrysargyron tax on artisans by Anastasius. White garments were also worn by those processing at Easter, when they were baptised.384 As noted above, we can imagine other participants well-dressed on this day, like the singing retainers who accompanied bishop Masona at Emerita. It is likely that ordinary people also wore fine new clothes, as they might at Easter in later centuries. Status displays crept in on some occasions: Sidonius disapproved of the nouveau riche turning up to processions wearing beaver-skin. The poor could perhaps not have managed much more than the cheap clothes they wore to church, even during festivals.385 The dress of the clergy is likely to have been the most predictable, though we do not have direct descriptions 382  Secular figures instigating Christian processions: e.g. Gregory of Tours Hist. 9.21, rogations ordered by King Guntram, (AD 588), nr Lyon. See n. 139 above for victory processions by emperors to churches. Emperors in procession with bishops: see n. 147 above. 383  Black garments: at Edessa: Josh. Styl. 36 (AD 499/500); at Zaragoza: Gregory of Tours Hist. 3.29 (nigris palleis for supplication during siege of AD 542). Barefoot: at Cple: Theodosius II with the Senate, people, and clergy: Malalas 14.22, Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 307 (AD 447/50) date of AD 447 preferred see n. 351 above; at Antioch: Theophanes A.M. 6021 (AD 528/29). In all cases for processions of supplication. 384  White garments: at Bazas in Gaul (for supplication): Gregory of Tours Glor. Mart. 12 (in vestamentis albis during siege sometime in the 5th c.); at Edessa: (on abolition of the chrysargyron tax): Josh. Styl. 31 (AD 497/98); at Clermont / Arvernis (for the newly-baptised candido): Gregory of Tours Hist. 5.11 (AD 576). 385   Beaver-skin worn by nouveau riche: Sid. Apoll. Ep. 7.4 {AD 474– 75]. Cheap clothes worn by poor to church: Basil Ep. 286.

222 of it from processions themselves. The white clothing for priests is mentioned by Chrysostom and seen in the long white tunics of clergy accompanying bishop Maximianus in the mosaics of San Vitale. Chrysostom was aware that very white robes could provoke discomfort from wealthy parishioners, who did not expect a priest to surpass their own elegance.386 The clothes of monks varied, even within the statements of Jerome. He notes modest dark robes or rags for western ascetics and describes the Pachomian monks of Egypt as wearing a goatskin, sleeveless tunic, linen scarf, boots, staff, and belt, along with hoods, which also appear on 6th c. depictions of Symeon Stylite the Younger (from near Antioch), and on the head of one of his attendants.387 Some bishops at least began to wear a brown robe over their white tunic, as seen in a 5th c. portrait of Ambrose and in the 6th c. depiction of Maximianus himself. Maximianus also sports the pallium, which Gregory the Great noted was a distinctive mark of rank for an eminent bishop, bestowed only by the pope; it might be worn as such in litanies (with his approval) or when proceeding ordinarily through the street (without his approval).388 Finally, the hagiographer of Masona at Emerita thought the dress of his retainers recalled royalty, suggesting that displays of personal worldly power might enter into the cortege of 386  Dress of priests, bright: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Phil. 9.4 (PG 62.251) (λαμπρότερον ἱμάτιον); white short tunic: Hom. in Matt. 82.6 (PG 58.745) (λευκὸν χιτωνίσκον). Priests or monks to avoid dark robes as much as white ones (to avoid excessive show) Jer. Ep. 52.9, but this may refer to everyday dress, not that as worn during liturgical events, as Cain (2013) 204 discusses. 387  Dress of ascetics: in general: (modest dark robes) Jerome Ep. 24.3 (tunicam fusciorem, for woman), 38.4 (pulla tunica for woman), 66.6 (tunica pullatus for man), 128.2 (pulla tunica for girls who are to consecrated virgins); Jerome Ep. 125.7 (rags: sordidae vestes, villis tunica for a man); Basil Ep. 2.6 (similar to mourning dress, tunic not of bright colours or fine / soft materials), references in this note derived from Cain (2013) 204; Pachomian monks: Jer. Translatio Latina Regulae Sancti Pachomii Preface 4 (PL 23.66–67) and Rule 8 (PL 23.69); Maguire (2003) notes the difficulties of detecting distinctive dress for Egyptian monks from iconographic depictions, which sometimes represent idealised high-status dress to show the importance of monastic saints and the poorly dated clothing recovered from unsystematic digging of monasteries; Stylite hood in depictions: Maguire (2003) 12 for references. 388  Dress of bishops: depiction of Ambrose, from S. Vittore in coelo auro: see Bovini (1969) 71–81, esp. 75 fig. 3, who dates it to the end of the 5th c. based on the paleography of the inscription, which I accept, and various stylistic factors, which I do not credit here; depiction of Maximian in mid 6th c. mosaic of San Vitale, alongside Justinian and Theodora: Deliyannis (2010) 241 fig. 84. Greg. Ep. 3.54 in CSEL (3.57 in PL 77.652–53) to John, bishop of Ravenna, allows him to wear the pallium in the audiences in the secretarium, and at Mass or in solemn litanies, but not otherwise in the street, which he regarded as usurpation.

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a bishop. This is something that is certainly credible at this time (ca. 580), given the large size of bishops’ palaces by the 6th c.389 Of items carried in Christian processions, the Cross eventually became the most distinctive. Yet, it does not seem to feature before ca. 400: for example, Egeria does not mention them being used at Jerusalem, in the 380s. She only attests to wax candles, which were popular throughout the period. Over two hundred were used at each of the two processions she describes. Many Christian processions were held at night, often just before dawn, so such candles had the potential to make a great impact. Censers are attested in the East, from the end of the 5th c., though they might well have been used earlier. Gospels appear in processions from the early 6th c., according to the examples I have seen.390 Religious icons did not feature amongst the objects exhibited, emerging in public ritual only in the mid 6th c., and not being used in urban processions at Constantinople until the 8th c.391 The display of crosses, at the head of the group, is attested widely from around 400, though most references come from the 6th c. As highly distinctive religious symbols, it was easy to enhance them, for maximum impact, with reflected light on metal crosses being visible from some distance, quite apart from the display of wealth. In the time of Chrysostom, the processions of the orthodox at Constantinople were equipped with silver crosses, whilst the Life of St. Theodore of Sykeon records that the 389  Dress of slaves / servants (pueri) in silk cloaks surrounding bishop of Emerita: V. SS. Patr. Emerit. 5.3. Growth of episcopal residences, from small (e.g. Milan) to large (Side, Apamea): Baldini Lippolis (2005) 102–36; Marano (2007); Ceylan (2007); Balty (1972) 187–205; Balty (1981) 107, fig. 111. 390  Items carried in Christian processions, crosses: at Cple, ca. 400: Sozom. Hist eccl. 8.8 = Socrates Hist. eccl. 6.8; at Edessa, (A.D. 499/500): Josh. Styl. 36; at Alexandria, under bishop Timothy (A.D. 517–35): John of Nikiu 91 (1–6); near Antioch, later 6th c.: V. Sym. Jun. 103; at Rheims: Gregory of Tours Glor. conf. 78; at Tours, (A.D. 576): Gregory of Tours Hist. 5.4 (PLRE 3.1088–89 Roccolenus); censers: at Edessa, (A.D. 497/98): Josh. Styl. 31; at Alexandria: John of Nikiu 91 (1–6); candles: at Jerusalem, (ca. A.D. 381–84): Egeria 36.2, 43.7 (candele); at Bazas, mid 5th c.: Gregory of Tours Glor. mart. 2 (cereis); at Rheims, Gregory of Tours Glor. conf. 78 (cereis); at Clermont / Arvernis, under bishop Namatius (PCBE 4.2.1347 Namativs 2 (bishop mid 5th c.), Glor. mart. 43 (cereis); at Edessa, (A.D. 497/98): Josh. Styl. 31; at Alexandria: John of Nikiu 91 (1–6); candleholders: at Rheims: Gregory of Tours Glor. conf. 78 (cereferalibus / ceroferalibus / ceroferariis in different manuscripts); Gospels: at Cple: Marcell. com. (A.D. 511/12 (512.6)) and see n.62 on use of liturgical items including gospels in the adventus, of which here Clermont is an adventus of relics. 391  391 Emergence of public use of icons and their processions: Pentcheva (2002), (2006) 38–52, esp. 41–43, though she hypotheses that an icon of Christ might have been carried on the walls of Cple in the Avar siege, based on a reading of Theodore Synkellos, a contemporary.

Street Processions

curopalates Domentziolus sent a gold cross to the saint for processions and worship, into which the patriarch Thomas (607–10) had inserted relics from the Passion.392 The use of relics for exhibition, rather than merely for ‘translation’ (the movement between locations), is attested elsewhere in processions from the 6th c. onwards, as discussed above. Thus, the tunic of St. Vincent was exhibited in a supplicatory procession round the walls of Zaragoza, being displayed at the head of the group; the cloak of St. Eutychius was carried in a procession against drought at Nursia in the time of Gregory the Great; likewise, the pallium from the tomb of St. Remigius was carried around in a similar procession at Tours, sometime in the 6th c.393 A Gallic conciliar ruling of 535, banning the use of the altar cloth as a pall for the funerals of priests, suggests that other holy textiles might also have been seen in the street at this time.394 On a few occasions, the potential of processions to mobilise followers against civil authority comes out through the sources. At Antioch, the translation of the relics of St. Babylas was seen as a rallying point against Julian, at least by the Christian community. We see processions used in a comparable manner at Alexandria, Nazianzus, and Milan, when Catholic bishops sought to take possession of churches from Arians through weight of numbers. At Tomis, the Catholic bishop resisted Valens by leaving the church, to which the emperor had come, with his whole flock in train. At Emerita, in the 6th c., a debate between Arian judges and Catholic bishops was concluded with a procession of Catholics to the Basilica of St. Eulalia, whose ownership was being disputed.395 In these cases, the physical mass of a crowd was being used to encourage followers, and to demonstrate public support against opponents of the bishop. 392   High-value crosses: at Cple (silver), (ca. AD 400): Sozom. Hist eccl. 8.8 = Socrates Hist. eccl. 6.8; at Sykeon, early 7th c., (gold) with relics in it: V. Theod. Syc. 128 (a piece of the Holy Cross and a piece of the stone of Golgotha and a piece of the Holy Tomb of our Saviour God, and the hem of the Holy Virgin’s tippet), with PLRE 3.417–18 Domnitziolus 2. See previous footnote for crosses in general. 393  Relics exhibited: see n. 363, above. 394  Ban on altar cloth as pall for priests (bishops may be meant): C. Clermont (AD 535) Canon 7. 395  Processions held during religious tensions (4th–early 5th c.): at Antioch (relating to Daphne): as above n. 285 and n. 342; at Alexandria (parading of pagan items): Socrates Hist. eccl. 5.16 (at time of destruction of Serapaeum, so AD 392, see n. 168 above); at Constantinople (AD 380): Greg. Naz. Poemata de se ipso 1305–1410 (PG 37.1120–22); (AD 512) for which see n. 177; at Milan: conf. 9.7 (16) (AD 386); at Tomis: Sozom. Hist. eccl. 6.21 (during visit of Valens (AD 368–69), for which I have not been able to establish the dating basis); at Emerita: V. SS. Patr. Emerit. 5.5 (almost as many slaves as in a royal procession) (ca. 570 to ca. 600 for bishop Masona).

223 The procession was being used in a way which the implantation of a church building could not achieve, to the same extent: to suggest that a particular group controlled public space in a city. Still, it is best not to exaggerate the frequency of such ‘politicised’ processions. They were only effective when the bishop was supported strongly by the local population against the wishes of the authorities, who themselves sought to win over the prelate to their cause rather than depose him. One could find other occasions and easier urban rituals to remove a troublesome bishop, if necessary. We also cannot be sure that their processions really did vex the authorities as much as Christian writers claimed. They might rather have served to motivate and involve those on the bishopʼs side.396 The interaction between processions undertaken by different religious groups was not as significant as one might think. Competing processions were only present in the street for parts of our period. They are attested in the later 4th c. and very early 5th c., and we can envisage them at other times when the rulers belonged to a religious minority, but did not wish to impose their creed on the majority, as in parts of the Barbarian West. When interaction between religious processions is recorded, it does seem to be have been marked by friction between communities, though here we are at the mercy of our sources, for whom examples of peaceful co-existence were not topical. Ambrose, writing to Theodosius I, records how a procession of monks was blocked by a group of ‘gnostic’ Valentinians. Surprisingly, we have no account of any conflict between Christians and pagans over processions, excluding kômoi, only a single disparaging remark by Libanius about the arrival of chanting monks in Antioch, which caused a governor to cancel the law court. At Constantinople, during the episcopate of Chysostom, we hear of rival processions of both Arians and Catholics, which effectively competed with each other, even though Arian processions focused on going out of the city to extra-mural shrines. In the latter case, the empress had decided to cover the cost of Catholics processions to make them more spectacular, which according to Sozomen made them more successful: ‘the orthodox became more distinguished, and in a short time surpassed the opposing heretics in number and processions; for they had silver crosses and lighted wax tapers borne before them’. Clearly in the formative period, an elaborate procession could build a congregation. But 396   The surprise arrest of bishop Paul, which occurred during a consultation with the praetorian prefect Philip in the Zeuxippos Baths, was an effective way to avoid such scenes, but it dates to a time (ca. AD 344) before other known ‘politicised’ Christian processions: Socrates Hist. eccl. 2.16, PLRE 1.696 Flavius Philippus 7.

224 this environment of open competition soon changed, and other priorities became more prominent in processions, for both planners and participants.397 Another result of the empress’ intervention at Constantinople was a riot. The palace eunuch who had been sent to carry out her wishes was hit by a stonethrower. After this clash, heretical processions were banned in the capital, and open clashes ceased. We do not hear of further incidents in the East, with the exception of trouble under Anastasius, again in the capital. At that time, protests against the emperor included a procession whose participants opposed his Christological position, whilst those processions which reflected it were given guards to protect them.398 In the West, we only have a single event which suggests any tensions over such differences: in Barcelona, ca. 531, a Catholic queen of Frankish origin was assailed with dung and other filth on her way to church (likely with her suite), at the behest of the king, her husband, an Arian Visigoth. The absence of any other recorded incidents between Catholics and Arians in either Hispania or Italy suggests that all sides avoided such behaviour, and that kings normally protected both parties. Catholics experienced less favourable conditions in Vandal Africa. Here, Geiseric ordered Catholic funeral processions to be held in silence, without their customary hymns. Under Islamic government, the record for the Near East is mixed. On the one hand, we hear of an outright attempt to ban the appearance of crosses in the street at Damascus, ca. 634–44, which might have affected processions, whilst, on the other, we can trace continuity for Christian processions at Jerusalem, throughout the period, albeit at a reduced level.399 397  Rivalry between processions: Christian monks and Valen­ tinians: Amb. Ep. 40.16 (in recent past, so later 4th c.); Christian monks and law court cancellation (Antioch): Lib. Or. 45.26 (written AD 386) chanting monks arrive, as they usually did during the summer; Arians and Catholics (Cple, ca. AD 400): Sozom. Hist eccl. 8.8 = Socrates Hist. eccl. 6.8. 398  Heretical processions banned: see previous note, which describes banning of Arian processions, plus Cod. Theod. 16.5.30 (AD 396 / 402 at Cple) (all heretics). Trouble under Anastasius: Marcell. com. (AD 511/12 (512.6)). Anastasius puts urban prefect at head of all ecclesiastical processions: Theod. Lect. Hist. eccl. 468, with Theophanes A.M. 5999 (AD 506/507). 399  Restrictions on Catholic / Orthodox processions: throwing dung at a Catholic queen going to church in / near Barcelona: Gregory of Tours Hist. 3.10 (ca. 531, when the king, Amalaric, was killed, PLRE 2.64–65 Amalaricus); in Africa, Geiseric made Catholics hold funeral processions in silence: Victor Vit. 1.16 (1.5) PLRE 2.496–99 Geisericus, mentioned just after exile of Quodvultdeus, bishop of Carthage, so after capture of city in AD 439, but before 454, PCBE 1.947–49 Qvodvvltdeus 4; in Syria, crosses in street banned by ‘Umayr ibn Sa‘d, an Islamic governor of Damascus under ‘Umar (AD 634–44): Dionysius

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Even when minority processions were banned, there might still be occasional challenges to the street rituals of established Christian congregations. We can see this in 6th c. Gaul. At Vienne, a trickster interfered with the baptismal procession of a fellow Jew, which led to the city’s synagogue being burned, and exile for those who would not convert. A canon of the council of Mâcon (581–83) also banned Jews from appearing in the streets between Maundy Thursday and Easter Monday, to prevent insults being offered to the clergy.400 Justinian’s legislation of 546 superficially seems to imply that comparable incidents occurred in the East: he threatened the death penalty against those who interfered with religious processions, and scourging to those who abused them. The severity of the punishment, within a regime in which the orthodox were clearly favoured, is surprising.401 At first glance it might suggest that Christian processions could still encounter opposition in the street from followers of a different confession. We might point to religious clashes at Constantinople under Anastasius, or the public desecration of Christian icons by Samaritans under Justin II at Castra Porphyreion (in an unwelcome church building), as evidence that both symbols and street spaces were contested. Yet, both clashes occurred within periods of serious disturbance, and are not representative of everyday street experience in the 6th c. east and central Mediterranean. The region lacks anecdotes suggesting conflict between religious groups over processions. They did have conflicts, but these were not currently played out in this manner, as they had been in the late 4th c. The reactions of a bishop of Terracina in the time of Gregory the Great are instructive: he was annoyed by hearing the liturgy of the synagogue from his church, not by conflicts over street processions.402 Rather, Justinian’s law on crosses seems to target unlicensed Christian processions. He was not here seeking to stop those of recognised heretical groups, who would normally have been named in the legislation, and are not likely to have taken place at this date. Justinian (reconstituted) 13.89; in Jerusalem, under Early Islam, continuity of processions: Baldovin (1987) 97–102. 400  Street conflicts over religious processions: at Clermont / Arvernis (in AD 576): Gregory of Tours Hist. 5.11; in Gaul: C. Mâcon I (AD 581–83) Canon 14, effectively repeating C. Orleans III (AD 538) 33; at Cple (AD 475/76): where, in contrast, a derisive reaction from a palace window to Daniel’s entry into the city is rather mild (though during a period of religious instability): V. Dan. 75. 401  Legislation on processions: Just. Nov. 123.31 (AD 546). 402  Episodal conflict: at Cple, in 512: see n. 177, n. 387a and n. 412; at Castra Porphyreônos (τὰ λεγόμενα Κάστρα οἰκούντων πλησίον τῆς πόλεως Πορφυρεῶνος) under Justin II: Symeon the Younger Ep. 5 (PG 86.3216). Bishop at Terracina: Greg. Ep. 1.34, 2.45 (not seen).

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required that processional crosses be kept in churches, and only taken out by their authorised bearers for use in official processions. His priority was to keep church processions firmly under the control of the established clergy, whatever their precise views on theology were. The potential for orthodox, but unofficial, Christian processions to disrupt ecclesiastical order is made clear by Gregory of Tours’ writings on Paris and on his own city: in the time of Chilperic (561–84) a wandering ascetic, with a cross fitted with a small bottle of holy oil. He was confined to prison by the bishop, after he had made an attempt to undertake his own processions to holy places, which had attracted many followers. Heresy was not being proffered, but the processional rights of local bishops were being infringed, and this was not acceptable. Gregory was surprised by this incident, as if such challenges were rare. In most places, episcopal influence and the calendrical habits of congregations produced a very predictable set of Christian street rituals.403 Evidently, Christian processions were influenced by a variety of different factors: some socio-political and some religious. But to insist on politics as the most significant influence on Christian processions is to ignore their distinctive characteristics. Whilst later 4th c. religious processions did take place at a time when Christian communities were still defining their position in urban society, this is not equally true for the whole period. Piety (evidenced in songs, route, dress, and symbols) should be taken seriously as a motivating factor, especially after 400. To see religious behaviour as a ‘front’ for more political concerns is to refuse to enter into the mental climate of the period. Late antique processional life offered other outlets than church parades for the display of wealth, status, and civic unity. It is important to grasp what participants sought specifically, especially when political and social challenges to the established Church had been overcome. When the whole urban community became Christian, or nearly all of it, displays of ecclesiastical power, even if aimed at other cities, might not have had the same significance for those taking part. The gruelling 65 km Lenten rogation at Clermont / Arvernis, led by bishop Gallus (527–53), was clearly not primarily designed as political statement. Admittedly, one can claim that the prestige of relics and rhythmic singing seen in processions united communities and cemented the power of the clergy.404 However, by the 6th c., the position of the Christian community 403  Unofficial Christian processions: at Tours and at Paris: Gregory of Tours, Hist. 9.6 (ca. 580). 404  Processions and piety: ca. 65km Lenten rogation procession (360 stadia) at Clermont / Arvernis: Gregory of Tours Hist. 4.5 (PCBE 4.1.849–51 Gallvs 3, bishop (AD 525/26–51) of Clermont / Arvernis).

and its bishop would have been so unassailable as to be unremarkable, with the exception of a few hotspots of controversy: in Constantinople, Alexandria, and the Near East. There was very little need to assert it and little scope for challenging it in a street procession. Rather than exhaust political explanations in seeking to account for Christian processions, it might be better to take them on their own terms, as I have tried to do for other forms of street ritual. Nonetheless, Christian processions or Christianised processions did promote the influence of the clergy, not through political mechanisms hidden beneath their rites, but rather through their intended religious purpose. This ʻpromotionʼ did not really happen in everyday stational processions or in street competition with ‘heretics’, but during moments of civic crisis in which their contribution was generally welcomed. The performance of a successful supplicatory ritual could lead to its remembrance on the liturgical calendar of a city. It might generate superstar status for a bishop, especially if a miracle was believed to have occurred. The bishop’s compassion and competence in organising funerary rituals or in petitioning before a violent conqueror could bring admirers, and perhaps even win over converts. At these times of great peril, the symbolic formation of a community into a procession was arguably very significant. The city was in danger, so how might one imagine it ideally constituted? Perhaps in a long well-ordered procession, with candle-light and chanting uniting all participants? In these moments, the shackles of station, profession, or family were broken for everyone living within a city, and it was possible to objectify the community physically, united in the same emotions, in an image that could endure when danger had passed. Such events have given us some of the most moving historical accounts of Christian processions, and perhaps give us a key to their true potential, which was only apparent on rare occasions. They were ʻpoliticalʼ in one sense: that they tended to unify the polis and create collective memories, even if they represented the application of rites that did not usually carry such significance. Other Processions It is likely that some minor processions have escaped notice from this overview. The street rituals of city councils, trade associations, and schools make up one area on which the sources are silent, although their need for marking rank and precedence, during celebrations and initiations, would have been considerable. We are given a brief insight into the rituals of a university town by Gregory of Nazianzus, who describes an induction

226 ceremony for a new student, which incorporated a street procession, at Athens, where Gregory studied in the mid 350s. The procession led from a house to the baths, where funny incidents took place. The students marched in two ranks separated by an interval, with the neophyte leading up the rear, suggesting the imitation of patrons or magistrates, by this group of well-to-do jokers. A similar ritual is recorded by Olympiodorus for philosophy students, in the same city in 415, in which the cloak of philosopher was conferred in the bath, following mock obstructions, then payments were made to teachers, and the students were escorted in procession by ‘high-ranking and reputable men’.405 It is possible that such minor rituals could be seen in university towns, such as Carthage, Alexandria, and Beirut, or in connection with civic schools in lesser cities, but they have not entered the textual record. Some ecclesiastical processions may also have been neglected by late antique writers, due to their relatively uncontroversial nature: we can assert that an inauguration parade existed for Gallic bishops, who were carried in a chair like a consul, even though we lack a detailed description of the event before 664. Gregory of Tours describes bishop Aprunculus processing through Clermont / Arvernis in 486 at his inauguration but provides no details of the form of his cortege. Only a dream of Gregory, about the murdered king Chilperic, in 585, provides some detail. Gregory saw him with ‘his head tonsured, as if he were being ordained a bishop … carried in on a throne, which was quite unadorned except that it was covered with a plain dark cloth. Lighted lamps and wax candles were being borne before him’. Given that Alexandrian bishops processed on a donkey to their own inauguration, we can perhaps see in this ritual the relative status of the episcopate in Gaul, sometimes as a political refuge for cultivated aristocrats who might have preferred a magistracy in Rome, whereas East Mediterranean potentates still had a secular political system to engage with, creating a different set of priorities for their bishops, at least prior to the 6th c.406

405  Procession for university induction, at Athens: Greg. Naz. Or. 43.16 (AD 350s); Olympiodorus frag. 28 (FGH IV.63–64). On student initiation rituals more generally see DeForest (2011). 406   Procession of inauguration, for bishops: at Clermont / Arvernis (PCBE 4.2.172–74 Aprvncvlvs 2, became bishop (ca. AD 483, d. AD 490): Gregory of Tours Hist. 2.23; at Orleans (AD 585, dream described): Gregory of Tours Hist. 8.5 ( fulgine tectam; lyghnis ac cereis). For the later inauguration (in Gaul), of Wilfred, bishop of York, carried in a chair in AD 664, see Eddius Stephanus Vita Wilfredi 12 (MGH SRM 6.206–207); at Alexandria (Timothy Aelrus AD 474/75), on a donkey: see n. 41 above, perhaps recalled in the adventus of bishops of the city on a donkey in the 4th and 5th c. See also n. 61.

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Another significant omission from this account has been a description of Jewish or ‘Samaritan’ street rituals. Unfortunately, my knowledge is limited to what Christian observers noticed about them, as I am not able to tackle rabbinic sources. For Yom Kippur, Jews are recorded walking barefoot in public (apparently in procession), in late 4th c. Antioch and mid 5th c. Rome. For Purim, processions are known from later times and may well have been associated with this festival, although we cannot confirm it for Late Antiquity. Some customs of this holiday, such as the burning of crosses, could have acted as a challenge to Christians. They were forbidden in 408, around the same time as were ‘Arian’ street processions in the eastern capital, and they are not mentioned in later 5th and 6th c. sources.407 Jewish street rituals were probably significant within areas in which they made up a large part of the population, such as parts of Palestine. There were likely Samaritan equivalents. At 4th c. Antioch and 5th c. Rome, they were visible enough to cause friction with Christian bishops and may have re-emerged in some form wherever the community felt sufficiently secure, although our sources do not suggest that this happened very often. Both accounts of Yom Kippur suggest that the piety of Jewish processions was attractive to Christians, perhaps because it coincided with Lent, and thus may have been appreciated even by those observing an ecclesiastical calendar. Quite what other religious groups would have done in the street when they felt confident enough to process, is currently unknown. It seems that Valentinians were capable of some street presence in the 4th c., from the account of their clash with processing Christian monks.408 It is difficult to think that any group was immune from the ceremonial habits of late antique society when they were allowed to operate openly. Processions would have probably emerged unconsciously in their collective behaviour, even without any planning. Non-Christian processions might have taken place inside cult buildings, or 407  Processions of Jews: general: there is nothing mentioned on street processions by Tabory (2006) 556–72 or Stern (1994) 76–78 despite their study of Jewish sources, which I myself have not undertaken; Yom Kippur, barefoot: (Rome) Leo Serm. 89.1 says that Jews walk in barefoot processions (nudipedalia), as part of his discussion of Yom Kippur (pontificate AD 440–61); (Antioch) Joh. Chrys. Jud. 1.4.7 (PG 48.846) (given in Antioch according to Mayer (2002) 511–12, so AD 386–97) also notes that Jews dance ‘in the agora’ (could mean ‘in public’) barefoot, which Stern (1994) 273–80 suggests is also related to Yom Kippur; Purim cross burning: Cod. Theod. 16.8.18 (issued at Cple AD 408); Purim processions: Sivan (2008) 143– 67 recreates a procession for Scythopolis but does not offer any definite late antique evidence for a parade ritual carried out within urban streets. 408  Valentinians block a street procession of Christian monks: Amb. Ep. 40.16 (referring to events sometime before 388/89).

Street Processions

in rural locations, when street rituals were not allowed in urban centres. These events might well have escaped regulation. It would have then been straightforward to move such habits into or closer to cities when conditions permitted. Yet there is to my knowledge no record of the re-emergence of non-Christian processions after the end of the 4th c., despite opportunities when political instability might have encouraged such behaviour, when it sometimes encouraged Christian dissenters to hold their own processions. This raises the possibility that in many areas, Christianisation may have been swifter than the emergence of Christian street rituals, and that the holding of urban processions may have been more a reflection of widespread conversion, than a cause of it. Processional Culture It might also be asked how important processions were to late antique society overall, in general cultural terms. The answer must be that the use of major avenues for the adventus of generals, for mobs dragging traitors, for the inauguration of magistrates or for funeral processions, did not merely enliven late antique cities. Rather, these acts constituted a significant part of their civic life. Unfortunately, we do not always get a sense of what it was like to experience processions on the street or to have organised them. The accounts we have often have a rather distant quality, as if a procession was remembered for posterity as an appropriate rite, as some have seen in the writing of John Malalas, and as in the prescriptive pages of the Book of Ceremonies. Personal experience sometimes seems to elude us, except perhaps in a few moments, where emotion or excitement spills out of the pages of Egeria’s account of Jerusalem. If only a few more people had recorded their migraines at the adventus, as did Libanius, then we would be in a stronger place to judge processional culture. But we can achieve deeper insights by examining the perspectives of organisers, participants, and spectators in turn, to consider what they gained from this tradition. We do not always have their voices yet we can get closer to their experience, by thinking through what we know and proposing guesses where there are gaps. In a hierarchical society, integrated through experience of monumental public space, the street and the details of processions were perhaps as significant in disseminating facts and opinions as print and television media are today. The clerics and officiales who organised processions at moments of tension appreciated their potential in this regard, though we have no late antique treatise, beyond snippets of Paul the Patrician, which could present this in the words of a contemporary. But to

227 see processions as reliable instruments of Machiavellian machination is to miss the complexity of late antique political culture. We have several examples where bishops, governors, or emperors miscalculated in their arrangement of processions, from the funeral cortege organised by Valens for his astrologer, to the litany of Maurice, during which he was stoned. Late antique processional culture had conventions and expectations. One could not avoid this by rejecting an adventus or demanding that a festival cortege avoid insolent remarks. To undertake a procession was to risk exposure to ridicule and disapproval, whilst changes to processional customs had to be subtle to avoid them being rejected. Thus, for most of the time, the ‘leaders’ of processions were probably forced into a routine of street movements by the weight of tradition, or by experienced stewards who understood that to be the bishop, emperor, or the governor was to wear the clothes and play a role, rather than do anything charismatic or unusual. Like Justinian, some civic leaders might have found themselves quite oppressed by everyday rituals, unless simply being the emperor / bishop / patron was the limit of their ambition. For the participants of a procession, one might make sweeping claims regarding their motives. It is especially tempting to see processions as being acts of territorial domination: ‘reclaim the streets’ and ‘show them that there are no no-go areas’ are but two slogans recently associated with political marches in the United Kingdom. Yet any ‘conquest of space’ was fleeting and not obviously the intention of many of the processions we see in Late Antiquity. Such ideas come not from ancient sources but from the assumptions of contemporary researchers. Even in major centres, such as Rome, we cannot be sure that the planning of liturgy really was subordinated to a desire to boost the authority of the bishop, or to oppose a festival he disliked. Changes in the use of urban space might be much slower and passive, not the result of a ‘strategy of visuality’ carried out through street processions.409 Admittedly, we can find one example of a 409  Conquest of space: Salzman (2013) esp. 209, 211 and 232 asserts that the processional activity of Pope Leo, accompanying a move of many liturgical celebrations to St. Peter’s, was designed to combat the power of the (Christian) aristocracy or of games, stating on 211 that “Leo’s liturgical topography allowed him to assert papal authority over … the resident aristocracy and the local titular priests”. This seems to polarise secular and ecclesiastical topographies, and over-emphasise conflict between clerical and lay power, missing that support for both the Church and the games coexisted amongst lay Christians: Lim (1997). The cultivated bishop Gregory of Antioch built a circus: Joh. Eph. Hist. eccl. 3.34. Salzman also arguably overreads the sources. It is not certain there is such a strong move of papal liturgy to St. Peter’s, as this rests on assumptions about places where sermons were given, which are frequently

228 procession undertaken ‘to take possession of a church’, at Constantinople, and of rival processions, which in the same city, a century later, led to confessional clashes. But we also have processions of supplication held out in a parade ground, and marches to distant extra-mural shrines, at night. Neither of these events would have provided effective demarcation of territory but were rather acts of theatricality played out mainly for the participants, and for their deity. Again, we might like to imagine a late antique procession playing a similar role to a protest march after Friday prayers or during a funeral in contemporary Gaza, as a ‘show of force’, producing confrontation at its conclusion. However, we can attest to relatively little violence in association with late antique processions. When riots did occur in cities of this period they generally began in entertainment buildings. The violence that followed some festival corteges was perhaps more to do with drunkenness and the already licentious character of such rites, rather than being planned and deliberate.410 It is also tempting to see participants as expressing their identity through walking together, in recognisable costume, as one might in a Gay Pride or Trades Union march in the West, whistling outside buildings which represent potential opposition. Such an expression of identity cannot be excluded, as some participants were clearly very proud of the processions they took part in (to think of Asterius and John Lydus). But one ought also to consider that late antique processions involved, instead, the formation of identity through the unifying experience of participating in a spectacle (as seen in Christian processions organised by bishops at Antioch and Rome), and through the public definition of subgroups and hierarchies (as Lydus and Ammianus make clear for the corteges of patrons and governors). The common sensory experience of participants, looking into the cortege rather than out of it, should not be underestimated. They shared the same songs, costume, and candlelights. They felt the same rain, weariness, hunger, and emotional satisfaction in completing the task and its associated rituals. As a group, the participants also learnt a degree of discipline, as they march together at the same speed and perhaps in ranks, that could represent the power and coherence of a community, as did the tightly-filed based on implications and indirect remarks, rather than clear attestation: see Salzman (2013) 219–20 table 1. 410  Violence after processions: one definite example is Gregory of Tours Hist. 5.11, when the Ascension Day procession at Clermont / Arvernis under bishop Avitus (AD 576) ends with the burning of the synagogue of the city, and an ultimatum to the Jews. But this should not be taken as representative. Relations with Jews had been good under his predecessor: see n. 259.

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processions of student groups at Athens and those of great households in Rome, just as military parades today still suggest to onlookers the organisational capacity of a force, no matter how illusory this is. For spectators of processions, such occasions provided an opportunity to observe subtle realities which patrons had not been able to disguise, to shout complaints against bad governors, to applaud an exiled bishop, or to join the cortege of a powerful patron (secular or ecclesiastical). This made the street an area of equal political significance to the hippodrome or theatre. Government was not simply done ‘behind closed doors’ in Late Antiquity, as Liebeschuetz has suggested.411 It was also played out in interactions on the main avenues of cities, in a partnership between the ruling classes and the people, through a more populist and entertaining political language than could be found in the assemblies and committees of the classical Greek polis. The manner in which spectators reacted to the passing of processions, or by acclaiming a patron, by accepting a shower of gold coins, or by following a funeral, gave them a direct means of negotiating relationships, often at key moments when support was needed: for an heir to enter into his estate, a consul to forget past mistakes, or for a bishop to affirm a doctrine. As such, spectators were directly constituting the body politic of a city, in rituals which gave them a sense of their place in the world, and of their power, which acted as brake on their rulers. State and festival processions also provided entertainment to those watching: regular events in the civic calendar, occasions to look forward to, in which distinctive costumes, important personages, and rare artefacts could be glimpsed. They might be accompanied by acclamations and songs, with incense, flower petals, or gold coins being distributed, in streets which were garlanded for the occasion, as were house portals along the route. Processions could be seen by all, slave and free, young and old, male and female, unlike the races of the hippodrome or the performances of the theatre. The liberal atmosphere of festival processions, tolerating dissent, likely made such events rather fun. Although we do not have any ancient recorded perspective of children, we should not underestimate the extent to which even liturgical processions, such as those at Easter and Whitsun, might be enjoyable to watch from the roadside, as much as to participate in, as they were within living memory in my own city of Manchester, when children sat drinking the rare treat of fizzy pop with their mothers, watching church groups pass by with their banners, led by brass bands playing marching tunes. The small snippets of information we do have about children—following the 411  Government done ‘behind closed doors’: Liebeschuetz (1992) 2.

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processions of wealthy patrons, watching the adventus, or calling on big houses for gifts at the Kalends—suggest that the entertainment value of processions was appreciated as much by street urchins as it was by the writers who recorded them in the vivid descriptions that have come down to us. One might also ask to what extent participation in a formulaic procession socialised and formed young people, to learn and appreciate the significance of gestures and movements designed to show awe, respect, solidarity, or gratitude, within cohorts of experienced participants. Unfortunately, the texts we have shut us out of such perspectives. Temporality Temporality is an important aspect of processions, critical to understanding their relative importance. This can be expressed in terms of their daily occurrence or a yearlong cycle, or in terms of rituals that might only be seen once a generation. In an eastern provincial capital, the most frequent processions were undoubtedly patronal processions, of a rich man / woman and his / her servants. These would have been held at around 10am in the morning, after the salutatio, when clients were available, or perhaps a little later, if there was unavoidable business at home (letters and accounts). This scheme follows the morning routine laid out by Ausonius and others. I doubt very much that an ostentatious procession would have been made by the wealthy from house to church for a dawn service, but if it began at the 3rd hour, as at Jerusalem in the later 4th c. (Egeria 43.1), this would have been worthwhile, as would trips to afternoon services. Alongside these very frequent movements, we can expect funerals (predawn and mornings) and weddings (afternoon to evening, after a meal): there is no indication of these being held on certain days of the week, although this is perhaps likely for weddings. Within a provincial capital, the presence of the law court, not running all of the time, would also create a morning procession of governors and their staff to the praetorium, of prisoners from the gaols, and perhaps of the condemned / punished in the early afternoon, if we assume a judicial process confined to the morning. The religious and festival processions had of course their own annual cycles. There were so many of them in some cities (as at Antioch in the later 4th c.) that they became a distinctive part of the experience of the place being certainly carried out during daylight hours, although some were held at night. The same could be said of the religious processions of contemporary Jerusalem, or Rome by the 6th c. It is not clear if ecclesiastical processions were carried out daily or monthly outside of a festival calendar,

229 but the instinct to process was so strong for late antique Christians that one might expect it to be very common. The popularity of evening for some festival processions and of the night or predawn for Christian street rituals is significant: a particular atmosphere could be achieved through carrying lights. Conversely, it is not surprising that processions of ostentation, whether those of patrons or the adventus of governors, were held by day: shining armour, precious silks, and colourful flags were far better viewed then. The adventus would have been a very common event for provincial and imperial capital, but it still had different grades, such as the first arrival of a governor, or the return of an emperor from war. Smaller cities might see nothing greater than the adventus of their own bishop, after a provincial synod, on an annual basis. The daily processions of wealthy families were clearly important in upholding their power, just as processions of governors projected the dignity of their office. Errors, slights, and changes in processional order were remembered by onlookers, who understood what minor variations might communicate or betray. The intricacies of public politics could be conveyed through this behaviour, in a manner visible to all. There was also a group of processions that occurred far less often. The importance of these processions was not necessarily proportional to their frequency. A relatively small number of very rare processions would have made an impact on historical memory to a much greater degree: an exceptionally generous consular procession might be celebrated for its glory, and for displaying the latent power of a prominent family; an adventus ceremony undoubtedly played a role in determining imperial attitudes to a city, given the written record of acclamation, for imperial reading; a damnatio dragging or execution procession might be remembered as the bloody end point of a conflict. But such explosions of popular anger seem to have occurred only once or twice in a generation, in larger cities. Such events were important, but infrequent. We should remember this even though they stand out from the pages of our history books. One should be wary of quick judgements on the nature of late antique society. It is not so long ago that France and the Netherlands witnessed parades of tontes, women whose hair had been shaven for their liaisons with German soldiers. The practice was last seen in Northern Ireland in the 1970s and is practiced today amongst gangs in Brazil. We will surely do it again, if not for a decade or two. An occasion has simply not arisen recently within the West when we might again practice it. A reaction to the death of Osama Bin Laden on the BBC News website in 2011 even suggests that the parading of dead public enemies has a place in our political culture:

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More whitewash from Washington? They’ve taken 10 years to find this man, and instead of ceremonially parading his corpse on the world’s media they ‘bury him at sea’? Believeable? I don’t think so, neither should any sane person. bbc.co.uk/news on 2/5/2011 Comment 1149: R. Higgins in London

Spatial Relationships In terms of the spatial significance of processions, I have described for each type where they started, where they ended, and any other information I could garner on their route. I prefer rather to limit myself to generic remarks, noting that monumental streets, and also agorai (being the junction of many main streets) were their principal setting, as they moved from one major public building to another. Colonnaded streets were a comfortable setting for processions, and very occasionally one might like to link a colonnaded street or portico to a specific procession, as when going out to an extramural religious sanctuary. The adventus undoubtedly benefitted from the establishment of monumental avenues leading in from major gates. Triumphs certainly made more sense when their route was ornamented with commemorative arches. Nevertheless, it would be a mistake to think that other processions either produced monuments or adapted themselves to suit colonnaded streets. The consular inauguration procession at Rome had to make its way up to the capitol through some quite narrow streets, and patronal processions in many cities must have started in back streets, as at Ostia, where wealthy households had their vestibules. Gates in fortification walls naturally acted as funnels of processional experience, and those who lived near them would have experienced a great number of street rituals. One might imagine that on some days funeral processions queued up to go through gates. It is also likely that some festivals or wedding processions might be prevented from passing through agorai or in front of churches. The designation of halts and end-points was also clearly used to give honour to a procession, or to those honoured by it. However, these spatial associations tend to be a little formulaic: a passage through a gate conferred legitimacy, whilst a visit to the palace showed political favour. There is not a great deal more to be said about them. Personally, I feel that such topics could be best explored further through computer modelling of processional routes within extensively excavated ancient cites, rather than through an analysis of often meagre textual evidence.

For some scholars it has been possible to talk of the creation of ‘topographies of meaning’ through the agency of processions. A distant sanctuary is included in a procession and thus visited by a multitude, who would otherwise have had little experience or knowledge of it, unless it was on their ‘radial-route’ into the city. In the same way, one might imagine that processions created a certain communion of places, a network of emphasised meanings in which to understand the city in opposition to earlier forms of urban knowledge. These ideas can produce new insights, and I do think they are pertinent in post-antique urban landscapes where memories of places might outstrip and overshadow their current function. But within Late Antiquity, it is hard to provide much ancient testimony to support such theories, outside of Rome. It is not easy to be sure what elements were being ignored and what stressed in a procession around a crowded late antique urban environment. We can study the processional routes of Constantinople, thanks to the Book of Ceremonies, but unfortunately it is not well-supported by a physical knowledge of the place, and most of it is not late antique.412 We risk missing a different perspective: rather the ancient sources often give a sense of immersion in processions, as floating activity spaces moving through the city, accessible to all and slightly hypnotic. The procession itself was usually the focus, not where it went, as P. Doncoeur appreciated in 1955. The reactions of spectators were sometimes very important, as they were for the adventus, but often a sense of occasion and of taking part in a communal activity seem to have been just as significant.413 Thus, I do not regret having taken a more descriptive than analytical approach to the topographical aspects of processions. I do not feel that topography is the key to understanding processions but is rather just one part of their nature. We need to describe their internal form perhaps more than their external setting to fully grasp what was going on. Persistence Processions seem to present the most substantial legacy of the late antique city to subsequent centuries. For a number of reasons, not least their incorporation into Christian liturgy, they lasted in some cases over a millennium and half since their inception, in a form which would have been recognised by a late antique urban 412   Topographies of meaning, Rome: Teuber (2011); Mulryan (2012). 413  Processions for their own sake: Doncoeur (1955) 36.

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resident. However, the subject of processional continuity is so vast as to eclipse my own capacity. I will make only a few brief remarks here. In the imperial capital, continuity is strongest, as reflected in the Book of Ceremonies, in general function if not in form: no procession remained entirely unaltered, but the tradition of political and religious ceremonial endured, even where the buildings did not. This phenomenon could be seen elsewhere, with Rome being one of several cities whereby the clergy continued to process between late antique churches which were once intra-urban but were now surrounded only by fields. Indeed, the capacity of the Christian church to fossilise processional forms through sanctification was very great. In this manner, we see the preservation of supplication processions, Easter marches, inauguration parades, and other customs, in terms of their organisation and also their routes, even if it involved walking into an abandoned city and stopping at a ruined wall, where the forum used to be, as happened at Complutum (Alcalá de Henares) in Spain. Such stational rites undoubtedly contributed to the survival of sacred topography, sometimes manifested in small chapels set within late antique churches, as seen at Philippi, Sagalassos, and Bostra.414 Through such processions, associations were maintained and stories could be told that maintained a strong connection to the ancestral dead and the lives of local saints. The adventus survived well in both Medieval Europe and Byzantium, whilst triumphal celebration and royal accession rituals often looked back to Antiquity, in the street as much as in entertainment buildings and palaces. Parades of shame and punishment can equally be traced onwards from those of the 4th–6th c., whilst the Kalends celebrations continued to take place in public space into the Middle Ages. Royal courts and aristocratic households were also able to preserve displays of wealth in the street, though not of the scale and frequency of that seen in late antique Rome. Daily trips to the forum or baths were not part of the ritual of early medieval aristocrats. Other means of displaying power, as through the exhibition of arms and armed followers, were becoming significant in this more militarised society. New processions might also be added. They are of course not unique to the Mediterranean world, but the specificity of processional continuity, especially aided by the Church, means that they preserved aspects of late antique urban 414   Christian processions in abandoned city, Complutum: S. Rascon pers. comm. November 2003. Chapels surviving within depopulated landscapes or set within the ruins of late antique churches, at Philippi: Provost (2016) (not seen); at Sagalassos: Jacobs, Demarsin, and Waelkens (forthcoming); at Bostra: Farioli Campanati (2007) 159.

organisation long after its economic and political structures had gone. One might say the success of late antique processional culture, which infused its values into street parades, created templates for an imperial society, in everyday habits and concepts of sacrality, that could potentially re-grow late antique culture even after major setbacks had occurred. Every time a liberal catholic or modernising orthodox believer rankles at the hierarchy and grandeur visible in ecclesiastical processions, they are of course taking issue with late antique social and civic values, which the Church was only too ready to absorb. Conclusions Summary A highly complex culture of street ritual survived from earlier antiquity throughout the 4th to 7th c., preserving and developing existing forms like the adventus, the funeral procession, the wedding march, and the supplicatory procession, whilst slowly abandoning others such as the triumph, the pompa circensis, or (eventually) the consular inauguration parade, and introducing new forms such as the Kalends street parades and street events associated with Christian liturgy. It is clear that there existed a common, though not entirely uniform, culture of street rituals around the Mediterranean, even including Gaul, both Late Roman and Merovingian, from funerals with freed slaves, to the Kalends, to the adventus. Some processions emerged which were highly distinctive in function, route, and costume, although they shared a number of elements, relating to precedence, the display of material wealth, and the projection of social power. Some types were confined to the capitals, whilst other festival processions could be extremely local in character. Nevertheless, political processes, normative tendencies in religious practice, and social intercourse, seem to have led to the creation of a common processional repertoire, which would have been recognisable to a traveller moving around the Mediterranean. This is perhaps unremarkable for processions associated with the imperial government, which could have imposed standard forms, though no evidence suggests they did. It is more noteworthy for religious, social, and festival parades, where there was less or no pressure to conform to a single system. Rather, there was a desire to belong to a shared sphere of cultural practice, in which innovation was only occasionally justified, when prestigious precedents came from elsewhere. Here, the defensive remarks of Basil (Ep. 207) on his changes to litanies are pertinent: his ‘new’ style was practiced throughout the East, so why

232 not in Cappadocia? Festivals could spread through the same process of gradual diffusion. The street rituals of the Kalends of January were probably the first to become universally celebrated under Roman rule but were followed by other festivals which had some comparable measure of success. Limitations The extremely rich nature of the textual evidence for processions makes it difficult to assess the limitations of this account. It is disappointing that archaeology has not found a strong physical trace of processions. We can see the construction of colonnades running to city gates as serving the adventus to some degree, but the built environment of cities was not changed much to accommodate the arrival of Christian processions. Neither was the epigraphic landscape modified beyond the writing of a few sets of acclamations, all of which seem, once again, to relate to the adventus. As I have noted, the accounts of some ordinary participants are missing, especially of children. The lack of material on Jews (at least from the sources I have been able to access) and 4th c. competitors to Christianity is also disappointing. This hole may well be filled by the research of rabbinic scholars or even be enriched by papyri. There is certainly a great deal more ecclesiastical material than that which I have been able to cover. Finally, we must admit that we do not have an internal account of the customs of Germanic people entering into the empire during Late Antiquity which were visible from time to time within its cities. The best description is perhaps by Sidonius Apollinarius in Lyon ca. 470, a parade of a princely bride groom to the palace of the king of the Burgundians, on horseback surrounded by mounted retainers, heavily-armed.415 Yet, the rarity of this material in the sources, and a number of occasions whereby Germanic rulers were honoured in Roman processional forms, whether in adventus, wedding, or funeral, makes me feel that their impact on street ritual was relatively slight. The new rulers added aspects to the repertoire of Roman procession, such as declavatio or the Germanic cries of soldiers, but did not overturn it. Distinctive Features? It might be asked to what extent the processional behaviour displayed in Late Antiquity was in any way distinctive. I have been surprised by the number of colleagues who have remarked to me that punishment processions or the daily rounds of the patrons with their servants are universal phenomena, which do not merit 415  Parade of Germanic prince and warriors, Lyon ca. 470: Sid. Apoll. Ep. 4.20.

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investigation. Certainly, some aspects of late antique street life are seen in other cultures. ‘Dragging-to-death’ can be seen today in the Middle East and in Somalia, for example. Parades of shame are also attested elsewhere. Other processions are distinctively ancient but are welldocumented long before Late Antiquity began. Despite this, there are some culturally distinct elements which go beyond spontaneous street reactions, and also new developments in Late Antiquity which make these aspects of urban culture recognisably those of this period. We could highlight points of detail. For example, the ‘damnatio’ processions not only inherited the culturally distinctive disposal of bodies in a river from Republican Rome, but also added the parade of victims on camels to their ritual. This is derived from a distinctive regional custom, but was now seen even in Constantinople, where the camel was more exotic. Certainly, the function of this procession for expurgating public enemies has parallels elsewhere; the hanging, drawing, and quartering of traitors, seen in Post-Medieval London, was also just as culturally specific as the rites seen in Late Antiquity. If one was looking for other traits, characteristic of late antique processional culture, then one might identify the very ostentatious daily display of wealth in the street, which reached its zenith at Rome or Constantinople, shocking provincials, even those coming from Antioch. Within this display, the daily parade of large numbers of servants / slaves of one’s household was clearly more important than that of clients, whether in a procession to the baths or in one’s own funeral. The clear display of rank, as expressed in formal greetings and through precedence in parade order, was also a critical, if less distinctive, element of late antique processions. This behaviour would have surprised a visitor to Rome from Free Germany, but it was not new to the city. The parading of officials in the street was perhaps more an innovative feature of the time. The retainers of judges now enacted a regular legal ritual in public, for praetorian prefects in imperial capitals and for provincial governors in metropoleis.416 Parades of punishments were a feature of these cities, and this seems to be new, at least in its frequency. The public display of physical wounds (such as mutilations) also seems to be an innovation of the period, or at least more common than it was earlier. We can see a parallel development in the display of torture in the Late Roman law court, something undertaken without an audience in earlier 416  End of conventus: see Lavan (2001a). The de magistratibus of John Lydus also reflects on Cple, in which the growth of the prefect’s court provides much public ceremony, as Lydus Mag. 2.9, 2.14, 2.16, 2.19, 3.35 and other references make clear.

Street Processions

centuries.417 The ritual mocking of public authorities can be seen in late antique processions on several occasions, normally, though not always, in a festival context. This was not new in the ancient world, but it is far from being a universal feature of processions in all cultures.418 Finally, Christian influence can be seen as a chronologically-specific development, affecting nearly all types of processions from the mid 4th c. onwards. Indeed, the Christianisation of street procession is in marked contrast to the lack of Christianisation of civil public buildings.419 Christian processional behaviour was strongly rooted in earlier forms, and does not initially appear to be connected to the specific liturgical needs of the community: rather status display (of the strength of the Christian community) and a passively inherited cultural desire to process, would seem to have been behind their emergence. But, over time, Christians forgot the mundane roots of their street rituals and adapted them by providing hymns, visual symbols, and processional routes, which made them meaningful in religious terms. Eventually, a litany seems have become the most effective means of mobilising a community against an external threat, more than a meeting in the theatre or even an address in church. Such events seem to have become enormously popular. From the 5th c., some political and social processions began to assimilate or imitate Christian processions, with the clergy participating in the adventus, and the emperor undertaking a litany on hearing of a victory. Open rivalry in processional activity was restricted from around 400, although festival processions that did not disrupt or contradict Christian observance were tolerated. Other street movements, connected to punishment or daily trips to the baths, simply continued without change. Thus, street rituals had become Christianised to an extent, but this was far from being systematic. After a slow start, many aspects of processional culture were modified by Christianisation, for about a century, perhaps a little longer. Yet, a different balance of interests could have been possible within processional culture at this time, in 417  Display of torture in the law court: see Lavan (2001a). 418  Ritual mocking of authorities, during festivals or other processions: consuls mocked at Kalends and by soldiers in street (Asterius Amas. Hom. 4.1 (PG 40.221, AD 400) with Lydus Mens. 4.10); Constantius mocked by commons on triumphal visit to Rome: Amm. Marc. 16.10.13 (AD 357); Constantius statue’s bottom whipping at Edessa: Lib. Or. 19.48, 20.27–28, (sometime between AD 337 and 361); Julian mocked by festival verse in public at Antioch, (AD 362–63): Julian Mis. 346A–D; Julian’s funeral cortege mocked by actors and musicians (Greg. Naz. Or. 5.18). 419  On the lack of Christianisation of civil public buildings in this period, and failure of Christian shrines to make use of settings in earlier public spaces see Lavan (2009) 810–12.

233 which Christian processions could have become politicised rather than political processions Christianised. This is suggested by a procession at Constantinople in 511/12, headed by a glittering cross and Gospels, carried out by a crowd protesting against the monophysite rule of the emperor Anastasius. The group came from an encampment in the Forum of Constantine down to the kathisma of the Hippodrome, thus taking in the main colonnaded street of the city. Aside from singing the Hymn of the Trinity in the Catholic version (which gave the procession a theological theme), the crowd shouted that the instigators of heresy (Marinus and Plato) be thrown to wild beasts. Here we have an acclamation most-suited to the political priorities of the Hippodrome, grafted onto a Christian procession. The event recalls the punishment parade of a monk’s head, discussed earlier, who was reviled as an ‘enemy of the Trinity’, around the same time, in the same city.420 In both instances, the political customs of the eastern capital proved stronger than those of the Christian Church. These events reveal, as will be paralleled in my discussion of churches, a late seepage into liturgical forms of surviving political customs, which the Church had previously ignored, rather than sought to Christianise. Causes of Continuity and Change My claim that the display of wealth was more ostentatious in Late Antiquity is only very weakly made. It is an impression I have, from social commentaries made from Rome, Antioch, and Alexandria in the late 4th or early 5th c. to 6th c. Constantinople. Descriptions of such processions are made with a degree of awe, which would only be necessary if it was a significant social value. I am no great historian of Early Imperial times, but my impression is that the comments of Martial and others on patronal processions are made in an almost bored and irritated manner, rather implying that such movements played a decorative rather than vital part in society. Although it is beyond the bounds of what one can prove, it is possible that displays of private wealth in the street became more important as membership of provincial city councils lessened, and office-holding became less significant as a measure of local power, with the elites 420  Christian processions subordinated to political causes: (Cple) Marcell. com. (AD 511/12 (512.6)). A single example comes from elsewhere and is earlier: during a governor’s adventus at Edessa in AD 449 crowds shout for the deposition of bishop Ibas, whose followers should be taken to the στάδιον, whilst the bishop should be sent to the κυνήγιον (animal arena): Acts of the Council of Ephesus, A.D. 449 edn. of Flemming and Hoffmanns (1917) 19. Note that this is political behaviour within a political procession, rather than within a religious procession.

234 seeking to be governors for one year only, rather than undertake a full cursus honorum in the curia or boule, or even to join the Senate. The rise of processions of governors and their officiales in provincial capitals is the obvious result of governors no longer undertaking a fixed judicial assize tour or conventus around their province, but, since the time of Diocletian, basing themselves in a single centre. The consolidation of legal habits and the extension of Roman law perhaps also contributed to the prominence of the processions of the praetorian prefect and his staff in capitals, and the punishment processions of all judges. The latter, like the public torture of the law court, were likely carried out for didactic reasons: the desire to show the public what happens to bad people, especially those of low status. It is also perhaps relevant that there was a specific political idea developing at this time which encouraged this practice. This was the belief that those who were not physically perfect could not rule and is reflected in the mutilation punishments for usurpers (who were otherwise allowed to live) from the reign of Honorius onwards.421 The development of Christian processions might easily be related to the end of imperial persecution in 313, but the habit only becomes visible a generation later, with the adventus of bishops in the 340s, and then only becomes popular outside of this secular ritual, in around 421  Physical imperfection disqualifies from imperial rule: Priscus Attalus, under Honorius, whose hand was symbolically mutilated: Orosius, Hist. adv. Pag. 7.42.9; Marcell. com. (AD 412); Olympiodorus frag. 13 (FGH vol. 4 p. 60); Usurper John, under Valentinian III, hand cut off, (AD 425): Procop. Vand. 1.3.9; Martina and Herklonas, tongue and nose: Theophanes A.M. 6133 (date AD 640/41 from Mango and Scott (1997) edn.); Justinian II, nose and tongue: A.M. 6187 (date AD 694/95 from Mango and Scott (1997) edn.); A.M. 6190 (date AD 697/98 from Mango and Scott (1997) edn.).

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the 380s, or perhaps the 360s. This leaves us with a 30 or 60 year gap to explain. We can see some imperial encouragement of Christian processions at Constantinople, but the rise in this activity more broadly does not fit well with Theodosian or Arcadian support. It seems that the custom of processing just emerged amongst Christian groups during the third quarter of the 4th c., as obstacles to its natural development within late antique culture had now been removed. One can only suggest that the delay was explained by inertia and bad experiences of pagan processions in earlier years. The emergence of ecclesiastical processions from the Church, rather than from an imperial sponsor, might go some way to explaining their overwhelmingly religious character, and the absence of political imperatives. The subordination of Christian liturgy to political aims in Anastasian Constantinople, is to my knowledge, exceptional rather than typical of Late Antiquity, and a feature of the 6th c. and later. One might say this behaviour is more characteristic of Middle Byzantium than of Late Antiquity. In the earlier period, the religious agenda of bishops still had more chance of shaping public life. Thus, whilst religious processions initially took on forms from secular street rituals in the 4th c., once established they were not the same in their dynamics as patronal processions. This may seem odd to a modern historian keen to reduce all religious activity to politics, but it is only an echo of what Claudia Rapp has established for bishops: that, for a long period, the spiritual and moral content of a bishop’s public behaviour played a key role in their claims to leadership.422 This changed by the time of Justinian, but for a century at least, Christian religious values, not secular social or political values, were at the heart of ecclesiastical authority, as they were its public rituals. 422  Rapp (2006).

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Late Antique Street Life Street Life beyond Rome and Pompeii

The Sources

Streets were the setting for many everyday activities not expressed in the ostentatious forms taken by processions. These might be ordinary movements, such as deliveries and rubbish collections, or activities that were entirely static, including a few public ceremonies. Such activities represented a large part of the social experience of people limited to witnessing the street from houses and shops, either for well-to-do virgines peeking out of windows from upstairs chambers, or for artisans managing shops. The street was a sphere of urban life common to all others, even if their experience of it was only transitory, perhaps twice a day, on their way from and to home. Compared to the glories of the agora, what is described here can seem a little mundane. But it is worth remembering that the street might be something of a refuge for people and behaviours that were not entirely welcome elsewhere, and so it is important that they are considered here. To a certain extent, this discussion fuses with my account of shops, as it largely describes everyday life under shady porticoes along major colonnaded avenues, as well as some activities taking place within the street space itself. Many of the topics considered in this chapter have been well-explored from the rich textual evidence of Early Imperial Rome, or imagined within the archaeologically-grounded streets of Pompeii.1 But they have not been explored much beyond those cities, and hardly at all for Late Antiquity.2 Furthermore, these activities represent a testimony not only to the geographical extent of Roman street customs, but also to their longevity, and so are worth describing here.

Unfortunately, sources for everyday street life are far more restricted than those for processions. We only have a significant number of literary sources for 4th–5th c. Antioch, with a few for Rome, Constantinople, Athens, and Carthage in the same period. Then in the 6th c. a bright, if isolated, ray of light shines on Emesa (Homs), through the Life of St. Symeon the Fool. Away from these centres, the situation is pretty desperate. We are obliged to snatch odd references from Cappadocian fathers, or other patristic writers with an eye for human detail, few of whom extend much into the 5th c. Procopius provides more snippets, but then again, very sparsely. We can attempt to reconcile these accounts, sometimes wrapped up in tendentious social commentary, with the occasional depiction (again mainly relating to Antioch), and with a few small traces left by archaeology, but the result is not impressive. We have gameboards and some wheel ruts, but little to compare to the extensive road system of Pompeii. The only site with a very extensive street system, Ostia, lacks most of its late surfaces, which were cleared away by excavators, whilst the great Algerian paved cities of Cuicul and Thamugadi are currently beyond my reach. Ephesus, Apamea, and Scythopolis offer suggestions of what streets might tell us, although here dating can be problematic, as it is not so easily established as in Vesuvian towns. The result of these limitations is that the account of late antique street life that follows remains rather more anecdotal than some of the other sections in this work. In places, it may seem little more than a collation of anecdotes from patristic writings, with their special, though sometimes exaggerated, attention to the urban poor.3 The uneven chronology and regional distribution of the evidence cannot be fixed. There is almost nothing we can say about Hispania, Britain, Gaul, the Danube, and many parts of the East. Furthermore, the sources from any city are not as detailed or, wellpreserved enough, to offer a comprehensive account comparable to those coming from Early Imperial Rome or Pompeii. However, within the larger cities of the eastern Mediterranean, the evidence does seem enough to permit a tentative general model to be built here, which

1  Everyday street life in Early Imperial Rome: Holleran (2011) is the latest in a long line, of which Carcopino (1939) 44–51 has perhaps been read more than anyone. The edited volume of Laurence and Newsome (2011) contains numerous papers which explore the thought world of literary sources from the city of Rome and discussions of road traffic, on which see especially van Tilburg (2007), Kaiser (2011a). As went to press, I received Hartnett (2017) on Late Republican to Early Imperial street life and Poehler (2017) on Early Imperial traffic, both focused on Vesuvian cities, with Poehler reaching out more widely. 2  Reaching beyond Rome and Pompeii: this has been achieved notably by van Tilburg (2007) and Kaiser (2011b), who extends his reach to case studies of Ostia, Silchester, and Empuries, though Pompeii still provides the longest case study. Forays into Ostia are more common, though only one paper in Laurence and Newsome (2011) treats the city.

3  Patristic attention to the poor: see for example: Patlagean (1977); Holman (2001); (2006); Mayer (2006); Brown (2002); Allen, Bronwen and Mayer (2009).

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004423824_005

236 could later be adapted, criticised, and revised by others. It is in this spirit that the following pages are offered. Admittedly, some of the social observations I record should be set within a wider critique of the attitudes of the late antique urban observer. I prefer to do this on a case by case basis, rather than establishing general methodological principles. Judgments on the reality of street life are best made when all types of evidence, rhetorical, hagiographic, and pictorial, are represented together. The general impression often holds good, even when individual pieces look weak. Political Life: Monumentality and Ceremony It is necessary to acknowledge the generic political function of the main avenues of a city. As I noted in the street architecture chapter, there was much public construction work on streets into the 6th c., which was supported by civic leaders. This is revealed by the dedications of repairs to porticoes, or of road paving, by governors, pateres, and some private benefactors, who left their names on the works they supervised or paid for. The overall sentiment conveyed by this ornament, if there was one, was of general splendour, perhaps best appreciated by a visitor, rather than by a native. There is not much evidence of any more specific civic political messages which a visitor might grasp. It is true that the Mese at Constantinople acted as a frame for processions, linking fora, where the imperial image was displayed. Even if this was just an accident, of a street following a ridge on which plazas could easily be sited, it must have had an impact on political life, as Bauer has noted. We can also point to the reused heads of Athena and Ares in the gate at Sagalassos (reminding one of the warlike Pisidians made famous by Arian?), to the display of imperial edicts favouring Ephesus on the Embolos avenue (and Marble Street), the statue of the boar (a local mascot) from its Arcadiane, or the inscribed statement that Aphrodisias was a metropolis, on one of its gates.4 Significantly, these examples all come from the same region—western Asia Minor—where local civic identity was particularly strong. Elsewhere, the 4  The Mese and its ‘string of pearls’ as a setting for imperial ceremonial: Bauer (1996) 387. Local political messages: at Sagalassos: Waelkens et al. (2000) 231–40, esp. 231, for reused heads of Athena and Ares in the gate, with Arian Anabasis Alexandri 1.28; at Ephesus, for imperial edicts favouring the city : IvE 1a.42 = AE (1906) 30a = AE (1907) 98, 43= AE (1906) 30b, 44, 4.1352 (on Embolos) and IvE 4.1326, 1353 (on Arcadiane) with Feissel (1999) 121–32; see also the statue of the boar (a character from a foundation legend for Ephesus): IvE 2.501; at Aphrodisias, named as metropolis on its gate: ALA 42; at Caesarea Palestinae, with the same thing: IGLCM 60.

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most significant civic political message to outsiders would have been that a city’s main streets had a ‘look’ which allowed them to belong to the category of ‘splendid’ cities. These cities were those which might come to the attention of educated people all around the empire and were known in its capital. But a closer examination of this building activity reveals that a significant part of this effort—to provide shady porticoes, fountains, lamps, sundials, and gameboards—was likely directed at the amenity of the native population of a given city, not at seducing its visitors. It is unlikely that the dedication of a single gameboard by a pater or by a private individual, as seen at Aphrodisias, was intended to impress anyone from abroad. Rather, it was directed at pleasing those who actually used the streets on a daily basis.5 Similarly, the provision of simple street fountains, with minimal ornament, as at Ostia, Knidos, Laodicea ad Lycus, and Sagalassos, more obviously served the needs of the city than did its great nymphaea, which might catch a foreigner’s eye.6 Again, the dedication of short stretches of portico mosaic, as seen at Ephesus or Side, or even individual porticoes, would most likely have influenced those who shopped and sat in porticoes, whilst they would have easily been missed by a visitor heading for the main monuments, who did not peer behind the columns.7 This is not to say that all porticoes were humble; very extensive floors in figured mosaics or opus sectile, as seen at Apamea and Scythopolis, were always likely to impress. Yet, minor building projects of an unimpressive nature, alongside more memorable works, testify to the survival of public amenity under the ‘notables’ who succeeded city councils in the East around 460. It was they who maintained the water supply and the sewage system, and also a sense of public order and amenity in the main avenues.8 One might, thus, see much investment in streets as being aimed at local communities, reflecting largely pragmatic utilitarian concerns.

5  Gameboard dedications, by a pater, an exceptor, and a magnificentimus: ALA 69–71. Dedication written by celebrated rhetors: Anth. Graec. 9.767–69 of Agathias Scholasticus (writing in the second half of the 6th c.). The late provision of professionally cut boards in public space is seen at Sardis and Perge (both cut into reused statue bases), Ephesus and elsewhere (site visits L. Lavan 2003 and 2005), as well as Sagalassos: Lavan (2008) 207, 209. 6  Simple street fountains, see chapter on street architecture and appendix H6. 7  Short stretches of portico mosaic, as seen at Ephesus or Side with dedications: see previous chapter on commercial space. 8  Porticoes with extensive figured mosaics or opus sectile: see chapter on streets and appendices C6a–d. Water supply and sewage system maintained in the 6th c: ditto with appendices C11 and C12.

237

Late Antique Street Life

Static political ceremonies were most usually conducted in entertainment buildings, agorai, and specialised structures, rather than in the street. However, specific political uses of the street and its monuments can be detected on rare occasions. One of these was the display of the corpses of executed persons, on gates and similar structures. The use of gates in fortifications as display points for bodies has been considered in the previous chapter on processions. But it is worth pointing out the occasional use of tetrapyla and related monuments for this purpose: a priest was burned to death at Amida at the tetrapylon, and, as noted earlier, soldiers and rioters hung corpses on tetrapylon at Alexandria in 457.9 Tetrapyla seem to have become important landmarks in major eastern cities, located as they were often at the junction of major colonnaded streets; they are often mentioned in stories about Caesarea Palestinae (Caesarea Maritima) and Alexandria. Julian posted notices at the tetrapylon of Antioch, though this might be exceptional given that it was also the entrance to the palace complex there.10 Another ‘political’ activity which manifested itself in the street was undoubtedly the riot. However, the primary setting for such disorder in this period was the theatre or hippodrome, often involving the factions, so it is probably best not to treat this topic, which has been explored by others, here. Certainly, many riots did take place in street space, but their focal point was often the house of a prominent official, which was to be burned, suggesting that the street itself was not especially a focus for disorder.11 A more convivial use of the main avenues was as a setting for civic feasts (street parties) on important occasions. One such party is recorded by Libanius at Antioch in 387 when the general Ellebichus toured the streets where people sat to enjoy a feast, to celebrate the clemency of Theodosius after the Riot of the Statues.12 On the day on which the clemency was published, there 9  Tetrapyla etc. used in executions / to display corpses: at Amida, on orders of bishop: Chronicle of Zuqnin (62) (AD 525/26); at Alexandria, by soldiers, with body of Patriarch Proterius in AD 457: Evagr. Hist. eccl. 2.8; at Antioch, on a statue in the antiphoros (by a mob, under Anastasius): Malalas 16.2. 10  Tetrapyla as landmarks in major eastern cities, see chapter on street architecture with appendices F3 and F4. 11  Riots in Late Antiquity: Patlagean (1977) 215–31; Liebeschuetz (2001) 249–57. Riots starting in the agora: chapter on fora / agorai in 4th / 5th c. n. 134. Riots affecting praetoria: see Lavan (2001b). Other house burnings: Rome: (late 4th c.): Amm. Marc. 27.3.4, 27.3.8; Constantinople: (under Anastasius) Malalas 16.19, Marcell. com. (AD 511–12); (under Maurice): Theoph. Sim. 8.9.5; Antioch (under Gallus): Ammianus 14.7.6; (AD 387): Lib. Or. 19.32. 12  Civic feasts in street, at Antioch in AD 387: Lib. Or. 22.37–38; Joh. Chrys. Hom. ad pop. Ant. 21.4 (PG 49.220). See Soler (1997) on this feast.

was a meal involving fish, for which the participants sat, and the military judge passed between the tables making jokes, stealing food in a playful manner. According to Chrysostom the agora was also decked with garlands, lights were lit, and couches (stibadia) were spread out. We might also imagine small ceremonies in streets when honorific statues were dedicated there, as we know that famous rhetors might perform dedicatory epigrams written for statues.13 Statuary displays along streets quite often honoured emperors, who might also be honoured with inscribed acclamations, perhaps organised by governors. At Ephesus, exceptionally, euergetai and governors were also honoured with statues, for which the city was responsible.14 Admittedly, this is pretty meagre testimony of static political ceremony, and it has to be admitted that we have better evidence from within major public buildings. This was a society which had circuses and theatres equipped for both entertainments and public meetings, so it is unsurprising that there are no street horse races, of the type seen in medieval Europe, in which patronage and competition for honour might have manifested themselves. Social Life Movements of People Unfortunately, the status rituals of the middle and lower classes in the street do not make many impressions that survive in our sources. Rather, it is the movements of the wealthy which appear most frequently, passing between the primary centres of social life, which seem to have continued to have been the fora / agorai, entertainment buildings, and baths, deep into the 6th c., with churches picking up a little of this role from the 5th c. onwards. We might expect a significant number of such calls to be related to sickness. In a 3rd c. schoolbook, a visit to a sick friend occupies the middle part of an afternoon for 13  Famous rhetors write dedications for statues: Anth. Graec. 16.32–74. On traditional ceremonies around statue dedication see comments by L. Robert in BE (1968) 444 noted by Roueché (2005) 242 who remarks that such dedication rites were continued for imperial statue dedications, drawing on Parastaseis 81 (for Justinian and Theodora), to which add Sozom. Hist. eccl. 8.20 (for Eudoxia, wife of Arcadius). The oration of Choricius on the agora clock of his city was perhaps performed in association with some restoration of the monument: Choricius Or. 7 (Horologion); Amato (2010) 204–213. 14  Statuary displays, of emperors: Constantinople, Antioch in Pisidia, Ephesus, Sagalassos; of governors and evergetes: Ephesus; of mythological figures: Ostia, Aizanoi, Antioch in Syria: see appendix H7 for all types. Inscribed acclamations on columns of street portico, at Hierapolis (to Justinian): Miranda (2002). Ephesus inscribed acclamations, on Marble Street, early 7th c.: Roueché C. (1999a) and (1999b).

238 a young boy, between time in the forum with his father and a trip to the baths. Even here, social display could creep in. At Rome, Ammianus satirises the wealthy who send a servant to check on a sick friend rather than visit them themselves. At Antioch, conversely, Libanius was conscious of the favour shown when he went to visit someone who was ill. He also held a disdain for governors who came to visit him when sick, as a high-status individual, to the discredit of their official function, but he boasted that he was able to expect such visits due to his importance. He seems happier when governors sent a herald to invite him to an audience. Basil of Caesarea expected that the young ought to visit the old simply as a sign of respect.15 As mentioned in the discussion of processions, we might envisage clients gathering outside the houses of the very rich for the salutatio. They were waiting to go into audience halls, which sometimes had their own separate on-street entrances to allow access for those queuing up. The presence of crowds of clients hanging around the gates of grand houses is a phenomenon which Ammianus observed at Rome and Damascius recorded at Alexandria.16 The morning movement of people going from their homes to greet patrons in big houses was a significant feature of life in cities of the 4th to mid 5th c. At this time, ‘calling upon one’s neighbours’ was part of morning ritual, recorded in literary texts, for both East and West. This can be a bit disconcerting: did the entire city spend the best hours of the day in small-talk, pleasantries, and petitions? It probably did not. The salutatio seems to have mainly concerned men of a higher social standing: at Nicomedia in 358, Ephrem Syrus has women either at their toilet or at work weaving during the hour of morning visits. He also had artisans and 15  Visiting homes: schoolboy visits a sick friend: Colloquium Monacensia 6 (who lives two storeys up from the street, in flats, but who is not at home). Wealthy at Rome send servants to visit sick: Ammianus 14.6.23. Libanius visiting: (Or. 1.105), even when has gout (Or. 2.21–22) and is visited when sick (Or. 1.139), so remaining informed of local politics. Disdain for governors who went to visit him: Lib. Or. 2.9. Legitimately affronted when not visited by governors: Lib. Or. 2.8. Governor send summons to Libanius via a herald: Lib. Or. 54.30–36. Young ought to visit the old: Basil, Ep. 278. 16  Salutatio visits: see n. 195 of the processions chapter. Houses with separate on-street entrances for audience halls: e.g. at Aphrodisas (‘Bishop’s palace’), at Ephesus ‘Villa above the theatre’, and at Ptolemais ‘House on the Street of the Monuments’ discussed by Özgenel (2007) esp. 249–53 and Lavan (1999). Crowds of clients hanging around the doors of rich houses, at Alexandria in early 5th c.: Damascius, fr.104 (Suda, ‘Upsilon’ 166) with Haas (1997) 311; at Antioch / Constantinople: Joh. Chrys. vid. 4 (PG 48.604); at Antioch: Lib. Or. 2.6; at Rome: the practice seems to be recorded by Amm. Marc. 14.6.12–13, 28.4.12.

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builders going straight to work at this hour, at a time we might have expected them to call on a patron. Not all visits were to social superiors: there is no indication of inequality in Ausonius’ description of his visits in later 4th c. Bordeaux, whilst Cassiodorus in the earlier 6th c. Rome insists that the morning calls of senators are to their equals. Yet, in Augustine’s writings, as in the writings of others, those who go on house calls were clearly seeking patronage, as with Alypius’ visits to a senator at Carthage, and his own visits to powerful friends at Milan.17 Other groups of people made short regular trips around the city. We have relatively little information about such minor journeys, and it is certainly difficult to propose a general model for the Mediterranean, even for part of the period. One of the best documented movements is that of well-to-do boys (not girls in late sources) attending school, which always seems to have begun early in the morning. This is attested by a number of 3rd c. school books which describe the Daily Round, as well as a 4th c. school book and the writings of Libanius on Antioch at the same time. From these we know that the boys left their house before most people were awake, without a meal, of which there were only two in the day (prandium/ariston at midday) and (cena / deipnon in the early evening), both at Carthage in 397, and at Antioch in the later 4th c.18 The boys went to class in the company of a slave (in both Trier and Antioch), who carried their books in a leather bag. They then could return home for a light lunch, before going back to study. Afterwards, they might perhaps be picked up by their fathers, who had attended business in the forum / agora.19 17   Calling on neighbours: as in the writings of Ausonius (Bordeaux / Milan), Ephrem (Nicomedia), and Chrysostom (Constantinople / Antioch). Cassiod. Var. 8.31 for Rome. See full discussion of salutatio in chapter on processions. Women at toilet or working: Ephr. Hymn on Nicomedia 7.99 and 7.107. Artisans and builders go to work: Ephr. Hymn on Nicomedia 7.121. Libanius and Julian: Lib. Or. 1.122–23. 18  Two meals of (prandium/ariston at midday) and (cena / deipnon in the early evening): Carthage: C. Carth. 4 Canon 29 and 48 (Mansi 3.885 and 3.891) (AD 397); Antioch: Lib. Decl. 29.16– 18 and 24 (edn. Foerster vol. 6.601–603 and 606) cited by van de Paverd (1991) 165–66, with evidence on timings of ariston below and of deipnon at van de Paverd (1991) 171, 172, 182 and 184–85 with chart. 19  Schoolboy movements: From house to school, in early morning, with slave: Colloquia Monacensia 2 (ante lucem; paedagogus). A case also seems to be described in the 4th c. schoolbook, possibly relating to Trier, if the passage is accepted as out of sequence, as comparanda suggest in Dionisotti (1982) 93–94, 98 (line 15); Lib. Or. 58.8 describes a pedagogue habitually waking his charge before cock-crow, to take him to school. School until noon: Lib. Or. 1.108, 58.8–9. Work done at home, before neighbours are awake: Ep. 25.7, with Martial, Epigrams 9.68. Leather bag of books: Lib. Ep. 376.4 to Themistius (πήρα), Or.

Late Antique Street Life

For adults, in the later 4th c. / early 5th c., lunch was taken at the sixth hour in Cappadocia, around the sixth and seventh hour in Antioch, and at the fifth hour in Jerusalem (not later), and at the fifth hour at Carthage (not before).20 At Antioch, the meal could be substantial, preventing governors and city councillors from working,21 and was followed by a siesta for some, even in Easter week.22 It is not clear if the siesta (meridiatio) was taken elsewhere, although it was taken at the court of Theoderic II in mid-5th c. Toulouse. One might imagine it to be typical of many and perhaps most southern cities. Adults could then return to the agora in the late afternoon, or to the theatre, or quite likely to work. Those who had the time went off to the baths, as early as the sixth hour (midday), but usually later, where much fun could be had, and from there to dinner. This pattern, of later afternoon baths, then dinner, is attested around the Mediterranean.23 On Sundays, we know that people 58.5 (διφθέρα)). Return home for lunch: Dionisotti (1982) 101, lines 45–47 (Colloquium of Celtes) the boy returns home to eat lunch, but then returns to his books (back at school probably, where he says he is returning to) where his father appears. In the Colloquia Monacensia 2 (cited by Dionisotti (1982) 114), the boy eats olives, cheese, dried figs, nuts, and fresh water. In Colloqium of Celtes 45 the boy eats provisions (pulmentarium) with white bread, wine, beer, spiced wine, absinthe, milk. 20  Time of lunch: at Carthage: August. Serm. 345.5 (PL 39.1521): in Cappadocia: Basil Sermo Aesceticus 13.4 (PG 31.877BC) (possibly not authentic, but could reflect tradition in Basilian monasteries); at Antioch: van de Paverd (1991) 165–82 with chart on p. 185, which roughly suggests the time, although there is no direct evidence for the hour from the city during the 4th c., as far as I can work out; at Jerusalem finishes at 6th hour: Egeria 43. References are from Van de Paverd (1991) 166–67, with further examples. 21  Ariston lunch substantial at Antioch: Joh. Chrys. Hom. ad pop. Ant. 9.1 (PG 49.103–104) from van de Paverd (1991) 164. 22  Siesta after midday meal for some, at Antioch: Lib. Decl. 29.16 (which I had difficulty translating); Hom in Tim. 14.4 (PG62.577, not 377); Joh. Chrys. Anna 1.1 (PG 54.633, not 635) (even in Easter week), (given in Antioch); Hom. as Pop Ant. 10.1 (PG49.111) from Van de Paverd (1991) 170, 176 and 178–79, with commentary. Some of his page references are corrected here; at Toulouse: Sid. Apoll. Ep. 1.2 (ca. AD 454?, on Theodoric the Visigothic king). 23  Afternoon movements: Return to agora: Joh. Chrys. Anna 1.1 (PG 54.633) from Van de Paverd (1991) 169. From agora to bath: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Tim. 14.4 (PG 62.577); Hom in Mt 5.1 (PG 57.55), with Van de Paverd (1991) 178–85. Bath ready after the 6th hour: Greg. Nyss. Ep. 1.24 = Greg. Naz. Ep. 249.24 (AD 383) (not seen in Greek), on which see Storin (2017) 88, 94–95 n. 1. Forum, then baths, then banquet: Cassiod. Var. 8.31. Lunch then bath: Lib. Or. 1.108. Bath, then meal, then sleep: Lib. Or. 1.174. Bath then go to meal at Athens: Lib. Or. 1.85 (but ἄριστον (= lunch) is used); Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Cor. 11.5 (PG 61.94). Baths in evening, then banquet at Antioch/ Cple: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Tim. 14.4 (PG 62.577), also in Sid. Apoll. Ep. 2.9.8 (AD 461–67). Boy goes to baths after school and lunch: at Trier/Milan: Dionisotti (1982) 102–103 (lines

239 set out to attend church services in the morning, at Carthage, Antioch, and Jerusalem.24 They then left from the church to go to the agora, or to other destinations, of which we have no record.25 Dawn / pre-dawn services on other days were popular with the laity, who might seek to consecrate their day to God. This practice is attested from later 4th c. Cappadocia to earlier 5th c. Marseilles and mid-5th c. Visigothic Gaul.26 At Antioch, some attended church services in the afternoon, especially during Lent. At Jerusalem, on Wednesdays and Fridays, the eucharist was held at the ninth hour (around 3pm in our time), being substituted with readings during the same liturgical period.27 All of these church events necessitated street movements. We hear of the movements of message carriers from 4th c. sources: missives were delivered around Antioch by Libanius’ slaves: for example, his invitations to students to attend a lecture. Ausonius’ slave delivered luncheon invitations in mid-morning, at Bordeaux or Milan.28 Other common movements through the street must be theorised, from very little evidence. It is likely 55–64); school, lunch, school, baths: Colloquium Leidense 7–8. Baths with father at Thagaste, Africa: August. Conf. 2.3.6. Baths and daily routine at Antioch/Cple: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Cor. 11.5 (PG 61.94). 24  Attending church services in the morning, on Sundays at Jerusalem: Egeria 25.1 (from daybreak, but sermons long, so ending by the 4th or 5th hour), 27.9 (shortly before dawn on Sundays in Lent, followed by communion before dismissal in the morning), 43.3 (service begins at third hour). Communion in the morning implied at Carthage: C. Carth. IV (AD 419) Canon 41 (Mansi 3.954); at Antioch/Cple communion in the morning: Van de Paverd (1991) 167–68 especially with Joh. Chrys. Hom in 1 Cor. 27.2 (PG 61.227). See also Van de Paverd (1991) 185–88 with times estimated in a table and with references to other works. 25  Going from church to the agora: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Matth. 5.1 (PG 57.55). 26   Pre-dawn psalm service: in general popular with laity (not just on Sundays): at Jerusalem: Egeria 24.1, 24.8; in Cappadocia: Basil, Ep. 207.4 (laity (λαός) attend devotions up to dawn, although they do not necessarily start shortly before dawn in this text, but might be a whole-night vigil); in Marseilles: John Cassian, Conferences 21.26 (lay men attend church before doing anything else, in order to consecrate first fruits of actions to God); in ?Toulouse: Sid. Apoll. Ep. 1.2 (ca. AD 454?, on Theodoric the Visigothic king). 27  Church services in the afternoon, especially during Lent, at Antioch: Joh. Chrys. Anna 1.1 (PG 54.633) (Antioch); Hom in Tim. 14.4 (PG 62.377), from Van de Paverd (1991) 163–64 and 178–80; at Jerusalem, on Wednesdays and Fridays, a service with the eucharist was held at the 9th hour, so around 3pm in our time, being substituted with readings during Lent: Egeria 27.6 and 44.3, with Van de Paverd (1991) 163 n. 11, who also mentions Epiph. adv. Haer : de Fide 22.4 (not seen in Greek) relating to Jerusalem where on Weds and Friday the people fast until the 9th hour. 28  Movements of slave message carriers: Lib. Or. 3.11; Auson. Carm. 2.4 (The Daily Round).

240 that a good number of people, who were not involved in a patronal procession of clients, passed through the streets to visit the agora in the morning from their home. Groups of young men going to the theatre, in the morning, should be expected: they and other social groups had specific blocks of seats in some theatres, so may have assembled together before taking them up. It is clear from remarks by Chrysostom that one expected theatres and chariot races to be open in the morning, although they could carry on into the afternoon. Later 4th c. laws permit governors to attend the theatre only before their lunch, not after, and only on the emperor’s birthday.29 It was also necessary for those invited to posh dinners to make journeys through the streets and then back home.30 Beggars who held particular spots might make a daily journey to them, if they did not sleep in the same place.31 Prescriptive social commentaries, by Chrysostom, suggest that women of good standing did not walk alone through the street. This is in contrast to men, who seem to have had no such restrictions, from the writings of Augustine.32 Children, of unidentified social class, seem to have been generally present in the street, and thus fairly free to go wherever they chose, in writings as diverse as Asterius (Pontus ca. 400), Malalas (Antioch, mid 6th c.), and Leontius of Neapolis (Emesa, 6th c., but written in early 7th c. Cyprus).33 Although movements around late antique 29  Trips to the theatre: Young men and other groups with seats in theatre and odeon: Roueché (1993) no. 47; (1995). Some people meet at dawn to go together to the theatre, such is their enthusiasm: Joh. Chrys. In illud: si esurient inimicus 4 (PG 51.178). At Antioch/Cple: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Tim. 14.4 (PG 62.576) it was an alternative to going to the agora, rather than clearly following a visit to the agora. Governors are allowed to attend shows in the morning only, and are not allowed to return after midday and their meal: Cod. Theod. 15.5.2 (AD 386; 392–95). It is important to note that the theatre does not feature as one of the afternoon destinations for schoolboys in the 3rd– 4th c. school books studied by Dionisotti (1982) 93. Theatres close in the evening and spectators depart: Joh. Chrys. Laz. 2.3 (PG 48.986–87). Chariot races were held in the morning, and also (by implication in this text) in the afternoon, at Constantinople: Anth. Graec. 16.374. 30  Journeys to dinners: see section on baths above. 31  Beggars with favoured spots, at Alexandria: Palladius, Hist. Laus. 21.5–6 (agora), late 4th or early 5th c. (this work has some later contamination, though the story does sound authentic), and Joh. Moschus 77 (tetrapylon); at Scythopolis, in portico: Cyr. Scyth. V. Sabae 62 (not seen). See also Brown (2002) 12 who points out the use of city’s gates by beggars for garnering passing traffic. 32  Women, at least the young, not supposed to go out alone, at Antioch: Joh. Chrys. De sac. 3.17; Hom. in 1 Cor. 33.6 (PG 61.284). Men walking alone in street, at Carthage: August. Conf. 6.9.14 (in forum); at Athens: Lib. Or. 1.85. 33  Children in street / forum in Pontus, apparently unsupervised: Asterius Amas. Or. 1. (PG 40.165); at Antioch: Malalas 18.35

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cities seem to be a little more purposeful than an Italian passegiata, we do hear of one example of friends walking for pleasure. Augustine’s friends took such a walk near the city wall in Trier, perhaps actually strolling along the fortifications, as people did in earlier centuries on the Servian Walls in Rome.34 Meetings, Gaming and Moral Danger In the urban descriptions of Ammianus, Libanius, and Procopius, for Rome, Antioch, and Constantinople respectively, the street was also one of the principal places where ordinary people met to socialise. At Rome, Ammianus memorably satirises the lower classes: ‘you may see many groups of them gathered in the fora, the crossroads, and the streets and in other meeting-places (fora et compita et plateas et conventicula), engaged in quarrelsome arguments with one another’. Libanius boasts that Antioch, with its colonnaded streets, has weatherproof walkways to permit agreeable social intercourse. In those cities which do not have colonnaded streets, the residents sit at home in winter—they cannot go to the market—whereas at Antioch the porticoes allow citizens to meet with each other without getting wet. At Gaza, early in the reign of Justinian, Choricius claimed that the refurbishment of stoas also allowed citizens to go to the baths whilst remaining dry. The 3rd c. Colloquium Monacensia similarly presents porticoes as providing cover from the sun to allow people to attend the baths, although, at Rome, they were begun as firebreaks.35 The presence of numerous gameboards actually carved into the sidewalks and road surfaces of many monumental ancient streets—as at Philippi, Corinth (sidewalks), Ephesus, Xanthos, Antioch in Pisidia, Aphrodisias, Perge, and Jerusalem—is an archaeological testimony to leisured relaxation, which extended right across these great avenues, where the leisure of citizens was at least as important as any more serious use.36 note from excerpta de insidiis in edition of Jeffreys et al. (1986) 260; at Emesa: Leont. N. v. Sym. 4 (145), and see also Dionisotti (1981) 98, line 16 (with slave, but meeting with friends). 34  Walks for pleasure, at Trier: August. Conf. 8.6.15 (near city walls) exisse deambulatum in hortos muris contiguos atque illic; at Rome: Hor. Sat. 1.8.7–16 (on part of Servian Walls, in time of Augustus). 35  Street as space for meeting of ordinary people, at Rome: Amm. Marc. 28.4.29 (plateas). Porticoes allowing social intercourse: at Antioch: Lib. Or. 11.215–18; keeping people dry at Gaza: Choricius, Or. 8.52 (for the baths), Or. 2.32 (in a church); keeping people shaded in a 3rd c. schoolbook: Colloquium Monacensia 10. Earlier porticoes as fire-breaks: Tac. Ann. 15.43. 36  Gameboards carved into the sidewalks or road surfaces at Ephesus, Xanthos, Antioch in Pisidia, Aphrodisias and Perge: LL site observation 2003–2006. See the brilliant study for Rome (Forum Romanum) by Trifilò (2012) which can also be applied to streets.

Late Antique Street Life

At Laodicea ad Lycum, in the period 494–610, column capitals, bases, and voussoirs were placed near the doorways of the shops, along Syria Street, and were used as seats, or cut with different gameboards, suggesting that shopkeepers minded their premises whilst sitting just outside, in the way of Mediterranean retailers today. Gameboards can be found clustered around fountains, as at Sagalassos, suggesting that these cool spots were as much centres of social interaction by choice as they were by necessity.37 The Septizodium fountain in Rome was a popular meeting place in the later 4th c., at least for the ‘plebs’. The nymphaeum undoubtedly gave off a refreshing mist, as well as being a significant landmark on a principal route into the city.38 The remark of Ammianus, singling out crossroads as important places to meet in Rome, is repeated by him for Antioch, and receives confirmation from his contemporaries. It also finds an echo in Ausonius writing on Bordeaux, around the same time, where the crossroads are a place of vulgar brawls. One wonders how many shrines at crossroads survived to the end of the 4th c. in Mediterranean cities: a single example of compitum shrine, from Lucus Feroniae, includes a milestone dedication of the time of Gratian. The Palatine Anthology includes a number of poems that mention images of wayside / crossroad Hermes, although Palladas, writing in the early 5th c., describes one as overthrown.39 An interesting depiction of gaming comes in the Megalopsychia mosaic from Antioch, which shows a game taking place outside a shop, with two men sitting on foldable chairs, using a dice tower, and a board on a table, rather than a stone-inscribed version.40 This depiction also suggests that much of the socialising taking place on streets was not only being done under the por37  Gameboards on fountain at Sagalassos: Lavan (2013a) 327 fig. 10c and 339–43, with Lavan (2008) 205, 209. 38  Fountain as meeting place, at Rome (Septizodium): Amm. Marc. 15.7. 3. 39  Street crossings as social centres, Rome: Amm. Marc. 28.4.29; Antioch: Amm. Marc. 14.1.9; Joh. Chrys. Hom. ad pop. Ant. 15.1 (PG 49.154–55) ἄμφοδα (junction or crossroads-, listed along with στενωποί, then ἀγοραί indicating that roads could be implied) but see earlier Hellenistic meaning as a city block: Saba (2008); Lib. Or. 22.12 (homes, markets, colonnades and backstreets (στενωποῖς, indicating narrowness) are places of chatter); Ausonius on Bordeaux: Aus. Ep. 6.19–26, on which see van Tilburg (2007) 123–24. Compitum, Lucus Feronae: a road junction in the city includes milestone of the second tetrarchy (founded in AD 305, breaking down in 307) and of Gratian (AD 375–83): Torelli (1982) 32. Hermes (and one Artemis) at crossroads: Anth. Graec. 6.266, 6.299, 16.122–24, 16.254 ,16.158. Crossroads Hermes, at Alexandria overthrown: Anth. Graec. 9.441 (Palladas). 40  Gaming in Yakto mosaic, depicting Antioch in the mid 5th c.: Lassus (1934) 135.

241 ticoes (shady, rain-proof and sometimes illuminated), but was also being undertaken in direct connection with the adjacent spaces. These might include church atria, such as that of the Great Church at Edessa, where tradesmen liked to go to relax, or indeed the interiors of churches. It certainly included shops fronting onto street porticoes. These are known in Libanius as places for socialising. Some of these might attract clients on account of their function: serving food or drink. Others attracted people because of the fineness of the craftsmen, who finished products before the eyes of the public, as I will explore later. Portico steps in particular made ideal seats for the bums of the tired and idle across the period. Further, the space in front of all public buildings was likely to be attractive to those with a connection to, or interest in, their activities, unless blocked by tied up mules and horses.41 Occasionally, we encounter well-dated architectural environments which suggest that the occurrence of such markings increases during Late Antiquity, with a peak from the 6th to early 7th c. In the West, the great numbers of gameboards in the Forum Romanum, a plaza used in and beyond the 6th c., contrast with the blank surfaces that I have seen on other Italian fora. The concentration of gameboards inside the Basilica Julia, rather than around the Basilica Aemilia (destroyed in the early 5th c.) reinforces this impression. At Saepinum, where there is at least some 4th c. building activity, there are surface traces around areas which saw such works. At Laodicea ad Lycum, Syria Street was substantially rebuilt after an earthquake in 494, with new colonnades, and with earlier identifiable fragments reused in the road surface and elsewhere. Here, there are graffito writings on the columns, including crosses and Greek writing referring to St. Philip (the apostle buried at the neighbouring city of Hierapolis), alongside animal and human figures. The architectural context makes clear that this writing dates to after the earthquake. At other sites, such as Aizanoi or Sagalassos, such doodling tends to occur in areas that we know were constructed in or occupied heavily during the 5th c. to 7th. While I have not prepared a systematic study, I think it is likely that there was a progressive loosening of civic toleration of inscribed signs, especially in the 6th c. Undoubtedly, inscriptions, doodles, and gameboards were present earlier in paint, which are now invisible to us. In contrast, carved graffiti can often take an hour or more to cut 41  Church atria for relaxation, at Edessa (Great Church): Josh. Styl. 30 (AD 497/98). Shops as places for socialising, in Libanius and Chrysostom: see chapter on markets and shops, section on social life and shopping nn. 185–87. Visiting workmen for crafts: see chapter on markets and shops, section on shopping as a cultural experience.

242 with a chisel. This much I learned from talking to stone mason Eva Leplat at Sagalassos. Their high frequency in Asia Minor is likely a function of their late date, when there must have been a greater tolerance of casual chiselling. The harder stone surfaces seen in the Levant undoubtedly hindered such carvings, but they are visible in Alexandria, at Kom-el-Dikka, in association with later 6th to early 7th c. inscriptions.42 Churchmen writing in the 4th c. saw the street as a permissive social space, from the authors of the Apostolic Constitutions to Augustine and Chrysostom. Here, young men in particular could fall prey to sexual temptation, to drinking, to the singing of voluptuous songs, or to simple curiosity for other people’s wickedness.43 Pious young women were advised to stay off the street, and a 4th c. ‘Arian’ bishop criticised the ‘orthodox’ for failing to ensure this. When obliged to go out women were advised to look downwards to avoid eye contact, and to keep their heads covered, which seems to have been widely practised by females of all ages at this time.44 Augustine mentions men merry-making whilst wandering by night, in the company of women who ‘have no husband’. This, he sees as being particularly shameful, whilst the Apostolic Constitutions (drawing on the Didascalia Apostolorum of ca. AD 230) imagines a street seduction, in which the woman is the protagonist. Some women seen in the streets might have ‘pigments and pencillings, and living pictures, and flowing lines of beauty’ suggesting that the street was an arena of sexual display, as much as the agora or church buildings, at this time. Prostitutes could be found in the streets, according to Agathias Scholasticus, writing in the third quarter of the 6th c.45 However, even Augustine and the writers of

42  These observations depend on site observations by myself from 1995–2018. For the Roman Forum, see the study of Trifilò (2012). On Laodicea, see appendix C2. 43  Moral dangers of street, curiosity for wickedness of others: Constitutiones Apostolorum 2.4 (under commandments to men), not apparently in Didascalia Apostolorum; streets as places of lascivious and voluptuous songs, rude laughter, and obscene language: Joh. Chrys. Hom. ad pop. Ant. 15.2 (PG 49.154–55) (during repentance after the Riot of the Statues). 44  Young women to stay off street (Constitutiones Apostolorum 2.8 / Didascalia Apostolorum 1.4, and when in the streets, to cover their head, to avoid being viewed by idle persons, not to paint their face, and to look downward, veiling oneself as becomes a woman (3.8 / 1.8). Orthodox women in the streets as a disgrace: Theod. Hist. eccl. 1.4 (letter of Alexander of Alexandria to Alexander of Constantinople). 45  Men merry-making in street, with unmarried women: August. c. Lit. Pet. 2.195 (does not use a word for street in Latin). Street seduction: Constitutiones Apostolorum 2.7 / Didascalia Apostolorum 1.7. Pigments and pencillings: Greg. Naz. Or. 8.10. Prostitutes: Anth. Graec. 5.302.

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the Apostolic Constitutions admit that casual sexual acts did not take place in the street, but in private.46 Augustine describes his student days at Carthage, getting up to no good in the evenings, ‘on the streets of Babylon’.47 Students were indeed notorious for their public battles, especially at Athens, Alexandria, and Antioch. In the last city, Libanius wrote against the mishandling of junior teachers by students of a rival professor, and against the harassment of shopkeepers by students from rich families.48 As in the agora, we also hear of beggars wandering about or lying down in the streets, at Milan, Constantinople, Antioch, and Scythopolis.49 In the 4th c., their number might include pagan religious mendicants. At Carthage, Augustine recalls that until ‘yesterday’ effeminates consecrated to the Great Mother could be seen in the streets and public places (plateas vicosque) begging for their sustenance ‘with anointed hair, whitened faces, relaxed bodies, and feminine gait’.50 Some people, particularly those from out of town, slept in the streets, presumably under the colonnades. This could include higher-status visitors on great occa­sions, when accommodation was scarce, or a special event demanded it. Thus, Synesius slept under an Egyptian rug in front of the record office on a trip to Constantinople, when representing the province of Cyrenaica, to protect him against the ‘Thracian snow’. One imagines it was necessary to do this to ensure Synesius had the best chance of seeing officials during 46  Sex acts not in street but in private: August. De. civ. D. 14.20 (via www.thelatinlibrary.com, as edition not available); Constitutiones Apostolorum 2.7 / Didascalia Apostolorum 1.7. 47  Student street mischief, at Carthage: August. Conf. 2.4.8–9 (platearum Babyloniae). 48  Student fights, at Athens: Lib. Or. 1.19–22 with DeForest (2011); Alexandria: Zach. Myt. V. Sev. (PG 2.23); at Antioch: Lib. Or. 58.5, where they harass pedagogues who support Libanius: (Or. 58.17–19), and shopkeepers: (Or. 58.4–5). 49  Beggars wandering in the streets, at Milan: August. Conf. 6.6.9; at Cple / Antioch: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Matth. 69.4 (PG 58.654) (τῶν ἐν τοῖς τριόδοις πτωχῶν); Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Cor. 13.5 (PG 61.115) (haunt the streets (ἄμφοδα), and enter into the courts (αὐλάς), and cry up from below, and ask for charity); Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Jo. 77.4 (PG 59.418) (wailing as they pass through the street); Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Cor. 11.5 (PG 61.94) (the poor who walk up and down the alleys, like the dogs) with Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Heb. 11.73 (PG 63.93–94) (the rich man, warm and full of drink, passes the freezing and hungry poor man in the street); Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Thessal. 11 (PG 62.466) (those who beg, who wander through the narrow streets … spending their whole life in begging), with description of interactions between beggars and passers-by; Antioch: v Sym. Iun. 72 (I thank C. Saliou for this reference); Scythopolis (female beggar in street portico): Cyr. Scyth. V. Sabae 62 (not seen). 50  Begging ‘effeminates consecrated to the Great Mother’ at Carthage within memory of Augustine: August. De. civ. D. 7.26.

Late Antique Street Life

his lobbying for tax remissions. At Emesa, the Life of Symeon the Fool describes beggars who warmed themselves next to the furnaces of workmen, whilst the saint himself slept on the street by a fire (set in a counter?) outside a thermopôleion. In Cappadocia, Asterius of Amaseia, recorded people who huddled in or around the furnaces of bath buildings, like Parisian tramps today lying over the hot vents coming from the metro. Asterius’ unfortunates often found themselves expelled from this spot, and then had one remaining option: they would dig themselves into a heap of steaming manure for warmth.51 Basil considered that agoraioi (those one might meet in public / ‘in the agora’) were prone to showing off and to slander, but does not betray any fear of violence coming from them.52 Children throwing stones could pose a danger to odd-balls and heretics, who could be singled out for taunting. We see them attacking Symeon the Fool, whilst Samaritans, in Palestine under Justinian, might find their houses being stoned by Christian children after Sunday Mass.53 More serious danger came from disputes over water access at fountains: Libanius saw this as endemic in lesser cities who did not enjoy Antioch’s abundant supply, whilst the Chronicle of Marcellinus recalls that water shortages in 562/63 led to murders at the fountains (of Constantinople), a remark which finds an echo in Procopius’ Anecdota, where thirsty crowds push around the fountains when the aqueduct is broken.54 At Caesearea Palestinae, prior to the 51  People sleeping in streets, Cple: Syn. Ep. 61 (Fitzgerald no., to Pylaemenes, Greek checked via PG56.1404) though this might also be in a forum, as in front of a ‘great praetorium’ (πρὸ τῶν μεγάλων ἀρχείων); at Emesa: Leont. N. v. Sym. 4 (163); Amaseia in Pontus, poor men huddle by bath furnaces, and dig into warm piles of shit (τὴν κόπρον ὀρύττοντες τὴν ἀναγκαίαν θέρμην ἑαυτοῖς μηχανῶνται: Asterius Amas. Or. 3 (PG 40.209); Edessa, hungry villagers from countryside come into town, sleeping in streets and colonnades: Josh. Styl. 41 (AD 500/501). Dead piling up in streets, porticoes and churches in eastern cities during Great Plague: Chronicle of Zuqnin (95) (AD 543/44); Rome, Ammianus talks about the poor sleeping in taverns or under theatre awnings: Amm. Marc. 14.6.25. See chapter on agorai for poor and foreigners sleeping in agorai. 52   Ἀγοραῖοι showing off and slandering: Basil, Ep. 204.4 (PG 32.749). 53   Stone-throwing children, Emesa: Leont. N. v. Sym. 4 (149); Palestine, against houses of Samaritans, after the gospel was read, on the Sabbath: Malalas 18.35, note from excerpta de insidiis in edition of Jeffreys et al. (1986) 260. 54  Disputes at fountains: Lib. Or. 11.247 (pushing and jostling at the fountains resulting in broken pots, then weeping and wailing); Marcell. com. AD 562/63; Malalas 18.146 (AD 562/63), reconstructed by the edition of Jeffreys and Jeffreys (1986) 304 has fights at the fountains (rather than ‘cisterns’); Procop. Anecdota 26.23 (κρήνη = fountain). A 3rd c. court scene from Ostia showing two people disputing about a broken storage

243 aqueduct works of the governor Stephanus in the 530s, Choricius claims that ‘women and old men and some children came back with their water-pots empty and a great struggle gave to some of them half-filled jugs, while many of the children left crying after their vessels had been broken’ (Choricius Or. 3.46, transl. Litsas (1980)). Thus, watering points seem to have represented places of frequent conflict as much as of sociability. According to Jerome, one needed to carry a cudgel against dogs rather than knife wielders.55 What violence we do hear of seems to be fairly structured disturbances, of riots by factions and fraternities or ambushes of joking students, who might push a teacher face down in the mud, or toss a student’s pedagogue on a carpet.56 Of ‘unstructured’ violence, Libanius mentions, within his autobiography, a street fight at Antioch, in which he tried to intervene, and the stone-throwing of a drunken shopkeeper. He was at risk in both cases, but when noted as life incidents across his whole text, they do not amount to much: they compare with two traffic accidents which he records. Neither Libanius nor other writers betray a fear of the faceless ‘mob’, nor of random robbery motivated by money. Given that most cities were face-to-face communities, which rarely exceeded 20,000 people, where networks of patronage were strong, such ‘street danger’ was probably rare. It was likely common only in the mega-cities of Rome, Constantinople, Alexandria, and Carthage, and likely have most affected those from outside, who had no place in its social structure. As we will see in the next chapter, it was soldiers who were widely feared as authors of casual violence.57 We should not take all literary allusions to streets and moral danger too seriously. Streets were undoubtedly places of liberty with fewer restrictions than the forum / agora, in which the lower orders might have been a bit more visible. But if the mid 5th c. Yakto mosaic is anything to go by, they seem to have been the setting for a fair amount of harmless fun, for all classes (fig. D4). Alongside temptresses, slanderers, and violent students, there were undoubtedly people like Symeon vessel perhaps relates to a fountain conflict: http://www.ostiaantica.org/regio4/2/2-3.htm. 55  Carry a cudgel against dogs: Jer. Apologia contra Rufinum 2.4. For dogs see also Lassus (1934) 134 (the Yakto mosaic). 56   Riots by factions and fraternities: see DeForest (2011). Ambushes of students: Lib. Or. 1.85 (Athens), 58.17–19 (Antioch). 57  Violence experienced by Libanius: Lib. Or. 1.185 (pulled from horse, nearly trampled by it), 1.235–37. He also mentions a friend punched in a bath in Athens: 1.21. Street accidents in Libanius: Lib. Or. 1.216–27 (thrown from horse), 1.259 (horses outside baths). See Brown (2002) 13–14 for similar sentiments about urban beggars, whom do not appear amongst the threatening forces conceived by late antique people.

244 the Fool, who spent an evening playing a pandôra (a stringed instrument like a lute) in an alleyway at Emesa.58 Chrysostom implies that a beggar who took up such an activity, singing ribald songs accompanied by a panpipe and improvised cymbals, would make far more money than those beggars who invoked pity.59 Shopkeepers and their families had little choice but to live amongst the pell-mell of major colonnaded avenues, seeing and being part of everything: there was little space in their tiny properties for people to relax, or for children to play, necessitating a life outdoors. Equally, poorer people could perhaps find no better spot than a portico to rest in, when they came to town. Commercial Life Deliveries and Stock Movements Regular street movements of a commercial nature do not show up very often in the textual and archaeological record: we only really have information for 4th c. Antioch and Constantinople. The most commonplace movement was the daily arrival of goods for sale coming into the city from the countryside, by wagon or by animal. In Late Republican Italy, wagons carrying heavy deliveries were not allowed within cities after dawn, unless employed on public works or in taking refuse away.60 It is not known if these regulations remained in force in the 4th–6th c. Chrysostom (writing of Constantinople or Antioch) imagined the bells of the muleteers as one of the first sounds of the day, when one was waking, at a time when the doors of houses were still closed but when one could still hear the snoring of servants, presumably those posted in the vestibules. In Antioch, Libanius tells us that normally donkeys came in from the countryside and were expected back home for midday.61 This corresponds at least to the logic of the market, which was normally busiest in the morning. It would make commercial sense, regardless of any urban regulations, that market deliveries took place in the early hours, as their trading took place before noon. In hot climates it could also be a 58   Lute-playing, Emesa: Leont. N. v. Sym. 4 (153) Symeon plays a πανδώρα (a stringed instrument like a lute) in an alleyway. 59  Beggar playing ribald songs for bread (ἄρτου) or money, with a panpipe, cymbals (on drinking vessels): Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Thessal. 11.3 (PG 62.465). 60   Deliveries in Late Republican Rome: (Tables of Heraclea ‘Lex Iulia Municipalis’), found at Heraclea in southern Italy (Riccobono, FIR 1 (1941) 140 / Crawford et al. (1996) 355–91, n. 24). 61  Muleteers outside, sound heard when waking: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Tim. 14.4 (PG 62.576), the bell (κώδων) of a muleteer (ὀρεοκόμος). Donkeys expected back home for midday, at Antioch: Lib. Or. 50.25.

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question of preventing produce from spoiling. Meat was presumably delivered to the city at this time, or from a slaughter house within the walls, and cut up during the early hours to avoid spoiling. The great variety of fish on sale in the streets of Antioch would certainly have necessitated regular deliveries, probably again at night.62 The delivery of goods was perhaps not confined to the market place. Until someone discovers archaeological or epigraphic evidence that late antique domus commonly had kitchens, we have to assume that at least some food was prepared elsewhere and brought into the great houses; this has recently found its corollary in an increased prevalence of food outlets from the 2nd c. detected in a recent study of the shops of Ostia.63 Other goods might be delivered in this way, and we could envisage that some of the characters shown on the Yakto mosaic (such as the man carrying a bread sack) were itinerant street sellers. Libanius implies that fish are sold at Antioch by wandering salesmen who cry out their wares, as one only needs to listen, rather than go out and look for fish.64 However, there is little to suggest a very well-developed itinerant trade such as that known in Ottoman Istanbul, or even that in Early Imperial Rome.65 Our evidence is obviously not very good for Late Antiquity, but it is possible that such mobile trade was less common than in other periods, with the officially-sanctioned topos inscriptions tying some sellers to certain pitches. A second type of daily movement which could have affected especially small, partly agricultural cities, would have been the journeying of men and animals out to the fields in the early morning, and back at dusk. The city of Laodicea in Syria was captured by an Islamic army because the inhabitants opened their gates to let the cattle out to graze in the morning.66 This practice also seems to be attested at Sagalassos, where, from the 5th c., an increase in copper and lead pollution in cattle bone suggests that the animals were kept very close to the city, and thus likely quartered within it at night.67 Whilst this might seem implausible for Antioch, it would certainly have been true of the smaller cities and bourgades, such 62  Market before noon: Lib. Or. 11.171, Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Act. 5.2 (PG 60.51), Hom. in Act. 35.3 (PG 60.256). Meat put out at night, as in an allusion to Herodotus 3.18 by Lib. Or. 11.256. Fish, necessitating deliveries, for Antioch: Lib. Or. 11.258. 63  Lack of kitchens: Ellis (1985) 17. Expansion of food commerce in late antique Ostia: Schoevaert (2013) 238. 64  Itinerant trade, Antioch: bread sacks: Lassus (1934) 139; wandering fish salesmen: Lib. Or. 11.258. 65  Ottoman itinerant vendors: e.g. Behar (2003) 113–19. Early Imperial Rome: Holleran (2011) 254–55 and (2016). 66  Laodicea in Syria, cattle let out in morning: Baladhuri, Kitab Futuh al-Buldan (transl. Hitti p. 203) 133. 67  Sagalassos cattle absorbing urban pollution: Vanhaverbeke et al. (2011).

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as those urban centres only separated by a few kilometres, as in parts of Italy, Greece, Africa Proconsularis, and western Asia Minor. Here it is useful to recall the buildings of Silchester in Britain, the form of which it has been claimed to be similar to agricultural buildings, and may well have served such a function, keeping the animals safe during the night.68 Lesser economic movements through the streets coexisted with these great daily flows. Libanius claims that in cities without colonnades, a break in the weather is the signal for household slaves to go off to the market place. At Gaza, ca. 535–48, Choricius describes how slaves were sent out on errands to the market place, followed by a second slave, then the master, if they got distracted by a festival.69 The daily trip to the fountain, for those without piped water, is likely to have been done by slaves, poor mothers , or children, as above. At Rome and Constantinople, a trip to the bread dole collection point or olive table would also have been a regular feature.70 It is unlikely that there was anything like a 19th c. walk to and from work, as most workshops were small-scale, and frequently also used for domestic accommodation. Those that were large (such as state weaving factories) could have employed slave labour kept on the premises. There was no walk to work for higher ‘professions’ either, as the agora remained the place to do business, set within existing social rituals, and almost no-one had an office in the modern sense. Perhaps only the walk of officiales to the praetorium in a provincial capital could fit into this category. Forms of Transport The late antique urban environment was, of course, primarily best suited for pedestrians. Even the largest cities could be crossed on foot in an hour or two. Most could be traversed in only a few minutes. Depending on context, even the richest could expect to walk, as on pedestrianised agorai and monumental streets closed to traffic. Some roads and plazas were even closed to animals: at Ephesus, we see tethering holes cut into late columns concentrated in some avenues (the Arcadiane, the Plateia in Coressus) but not on others (the Embolos 68   Roman cities with agricultural buildings, as at Silchester (based on an analysis of their form): Boon (1957) 178–79, who also notes the absence of farms around Silchester. 69  Slaves on errands to markets for their masters: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Rom. 4.4 (PG 60.40–42); Lib. Or. 11.215 (οἰκετῶν); Choricius Or. 2.67–68. 70  Gradus: 2,300 points for distributing oil (menses oleariae) appear in the Notitia regionum urbis Romae and 117 points for distributing grain (gradus / ἑρκάναι) appear in the Notitia urbis Constantinopolitanae. See Dagron (1974) 533 with Them. Or. 23.292a. On this issue see Sirks (1991) (not seen). I thank Carlos Machado for this last reference.

245 or the Marble Street), an arrangement that seems to date from after the last period of street renewal [550–610]. The concentration of tethering holes (cut into kerbs) in a street near the forum of Juvanum, at least 7 of them, set ca. 4.5 m to 6 m apart, but not in the forum itself, suggests that the street served to host animals / vehicles of those visiting the square.71 Indeed, the earlier 4th c. Notitia urbis Romae tells us of an aream carruces in region 1, in which vehicles presumably could be / had to be parked. Such arrangements surely went back earlier: remarks by Severan jurists imply as much.72 For those who could afford it, sedan-chairs might be used, such as those employed by the association of chair carriers at Aphrodisias; these could well have served those unaccustomed to walking, but not able to use a horse due to local restrictions, or illness. Such sedan chairs are attested at Rome, as a transport for wealthy women, and at Arles in 461, taking Sidonius home from the forum, whilst at Antioch, Libanius was carried by his slaves when gouty. At Caesarea Palestinae in the 7th c., according to the Miracles of St Anastasius the Persian, a woman with kidney trouble was also carried from her house by servants, prior to being healed at the miraculous icon of the saint and being able to walk.73 Libanius commonly used a horse, notably when coming home from his school in the bouleuterion. He also rode around Antioch with his friends on horseback.74 Many trips to the baths at Antioch seem to have been accomplished in the same way, as a good number of horses were tied up outside.75 Chrysostom went to the Great Church of Constantinople as bishop on a mule, which he kept stationed in front of the main (western) entrance.

71  Tethering holes, Ephesus: see appendix C3. Juvanum: L. Lavan site observation 2015. 72  Roads and plaza closed to animals: for Severan regulations on the type of animals permitted to be tied up on streets (no dogs, pigs, boards, wolves, bears, panthers, or lions): see Dig. 21.1.40–42 (Ulpian and Paul). Carriage animals are not mentioned, as if allowed. From Hartnett (2011) 138. 73  Chair carriers: association of chair carriers (sellophoroi) at Aphrodisias, topos inscription from south agora: ALA 80. Women carried in basternae at Rome: Amm. Marc. 14.6.16. Carried by chair-bearing slaves at Arles (per cathedrarios servos) back from forum to house: Sid. Apoll. Ep. 1.11.9 (AD 461); at Antioch, Libanius carried by his slaves (οἰκετῶν) when gouty, or on horseback: Or. 2.22; at Caesarea Palestinae, sick woman carried by slaves: Miracles of St. Anastasius the Persian 7. 74  Horses, used for street travel by Libanius at Antioch: Or. 1.183, 1.216–17 (close to the Bouleuterion). See also Ep. 25 (Forester no. 435) (AD 355/56) (with a friend, to the ‘authorities’ and the baths); Lib. Progymnasmata line 11. 75  Horses tied up outside baths: this appears to be the sense of Lib. Or. 1.259 (he sees the animals facing the column or the wall, waiting for their masters when returning from bathing).

246 Some of his predecessors rode on horses.76 It seems that at Antioch / Constantinople most wealthy males seem to have preferred a horse. Chrysostom describes numerous rich men coming into town, surrounded by a suite of followers, riding richly decorated horses, with golden trappings.77 But here, women preferred closed carriages: some wealthy women had even become physically dependent on assisted transport, such as the muledependent ladies described by Chrysostom.78 According to Ammianus, the women of Rome seem to have preferred closed litters, although they too might travel by carriage, as also seen at Tocra in Libya, although Hypatia at Alexandria seems again to have ridden in a litter. As we will see later, all of these forms of transport may be the same: a litter carried by mules for women.79 Riding by horse or carriage was, as in all periods, a sign of high status: in 4th c. Antioch, a ‘parasite’, invited to dinner who rode on a horse would excite comment, whilst a rich boy who did not might be thought of as modest.80 For Rome, Ammianus’ Res Gestae notes that to travel by coach through the central streets of a city is an exceptional honour, a point confirmed by legal texts.81 He notes, for example, that the bishops of Rome travelled through the city in carriages.82 A certain anxiety to preserve status distinctions in vehicle use can be detected in the highly problematic Historia Augusta, composed around the same time, in the last years of the 4th c. This text ostensibly preserves an exceptional amount of detail on the transport regulations of 2nd and 3rd c. Roman 76  Horses, of bishops at Constantinople: Greg. Naz. Or. 42.24. Mule preferred, because more modest: Palladius, Dialogue Concerning John Chrysostom 10; Phot. Bibl. 96 (resuming George of Alexandria’s Life of Chrysostom). Popes in coaches (vehiculis) at Rome: Amm. Marc. 27.3.14. 77  Horses: Young man on horseback with large retinue: Joh. Chrys. Ad Theodorum lapsum (Treatise) 18.33–34; others on horseback with followers: Hom. in Phil. 9.4 (PG 62.231–32); Hom. in 1 Cor. 40.5 (PG 61.354); kal. 1.3 (PG 48.957) (horse, with servants and ‘parasites and flatterers’). Horse with golden trappings: Hom. in 1 Cor. 11.4 (PG 61.92). 78  Dependency on mules and horses: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Matth. 7.5 (PG 57.79); Amm. Marc. 19.8.6. 79  Women in vehicles: Amm. Marc. 14.6.16–17 (Rome, closed litters); Syn. Ep. 3 (Tocra, Libya, mule car). Hypatia: Socrates, Hist. eccl. 7.15 (Alexandria, dragged from her ‘chariot’—δίφρου, can mean litter, especially used by women at time of Cass. Dio 60.2, in early 3rd c.). See also processions chapter n. 159. Mules and golden trappings as a status symbol for women: Joh. Chrys. Hebrews 28.5 (PG 63.198). 80  Horses and status: Lib. Decl. 28.7; Phot. Bibl. 96 (on the youth of John Chrysostom, from an epitome of a life by bishop George of Alexandria). 81  Coach an exceptional honour: Amm. Marc. 14.7.4 (coming out of a palace); for legal evidence see the processions chapter n. 38. 82  Bishops of Rome in coaches (vehiculis): Amm. Marc. 27.3.14.

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emperors. It has long been taken to provide a real history of such matters in the Middle Empire. The Historia first has Hadrian banning movement on horseback, as well as vehicles (not just wagons) through the city, then has Marcus Aurelius repeating this measure, and then has Aurelian permitting silver ornaments to the vehicula of commoners. This information must have seemed worth repeating / inventing in late 4th c. Rome, because of continued interest in such status displays. Furthermore, the Historiaʼs remark that Severus Alexander allowed senators to ride in a carriage (carruca) in Rome may reflect real restrictions on this honour in the city during the 4th c.83 We know less about the types of vehicle present in urban streets than in earlier centuries, but some indications can be gleaned from visual sources (fig. D1) and from texts. The Etymologiae of Isidore of Seville (20.12 under the title de vehiculis), written ca. 521 to 636, provides us with an encyclopedic list of types that we have seen earlier in the Latin West. Isidore mentions that a carrum is a wheeled vehicle, of which the currus (a chariot) is the first specialised example he gives. Then he describes the rheda as a four-wheeled vehicle, which has been likened to a bus, given that it was for transporting significant numbers of people, for ordinary business. This is followed by the carpentum pompaticum, known from numerous sources to be a specialised version of the four-wheeled cart, which was employed in the adventus of governors and emperors, in which one or two individuals sat. He notes that the plaustrum is a twowheeled wagon for heavy loads, whilst a caracutium is a high-wheeled type, and a capsus is a vehicle enclosed on all sides. He notes that pilentum or petorritum is a closed carriage of four wheels for matrons, but that is no longer used by them. Of other terms, we hear of a carruca in late antique sources, often transliterated into Greek, which Martial uses as synonymous with rheda.84 This idealised catalogue of vehicles is difficult though not impossible to compare with other sources of evidence. I have pointed out considerable evidence, both textual and iconographic, in the processions chapter, for the survival of chariots and carpenta (the latter throughout the period). In 3rd–5th c. sarcophagi from Rome, carpenta are pulled by two horses, although those of officials shown in Notitia Dignitatum have four white horses each (fig. D1). The carpenta are always open-topped, with a generous 83  Traffic legislation in the Historia Augusta: SHA, Hadr. 22.6; SHA, Marc. 23.8; SHA, Aur. 46.3, discussed by Newsome (2011) 17–19 and Kaiser (2011a) 187 as if it does represent real legislation, despite its origin in the late 4th c. SHA. This is partly reasonable, given similar legislation in Suet. Claud. 25.2. For carriages and senators see SHA Alex. Sev. 43. 84  Carruca: Mart. 3.47.

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upholstered seat for two people, like a sofa, with four wheels, of spokes. A mosaic from Antioch, of the House of Menander [of 250–75], shows a four-wheeled buggy with sofa, very like a carpentum, except for its small size: a single-seated four-wheeled vehicle pulled by a single horse, what we would call a trap (fig. D1).85 We should take the rhedae in the Historia Augusta (written late 4th c.) as indicating their survival, even if we do not have any iconographic correlations. The text imagines that the Severus Alexander permitted senators to adorn their rhedae with silver. Diocletian’s Price Edict lists it, with saragarae (sarraca) freight wagons, sleeping wagons, and other four wheeled carts, though none are shown in images. For plaustra, we can note a great number of surviving depictions, from the Roman sarcophagi to the Yakto mosaics, the sarcophagi showing them adapted for hay, wood, and even liquids (in the form of a huge leather pouch), pulled by two oxen, with solid wheels.86 Beasts of burden of course should not be ignored. Camels were present in Justiniana Prima in the 6th c., alongside mules, according to faunal studies, and had been well-established in Egypt from at least the 3rd c. B.C. Sometime in the 8th c. or later, camels entirely replaced wagons in Egypt, but were never as important as donkeys for moving loads, according to a papyrological study by Bagnall. The loads carried by donkeys were a vital part of the Antiochene traffic system of Libanius’ day.87 We should not forget the use of human porters: the Roman sarcophagi also show them carrying boxes or cages; two on each end of a long pole, doubtless a common sight in the period (fig. D1).88 We must note one new type of vehicle in use in Late Antiquity: a closed litter ‘box’ carried not by human porters, but by two mules, tethered between the front and rear carrying poles. This arrangement is shown on a mosaic from the ‘Michaelion’ / north church at Huarte, ca. 500 and from a late antique church mosaic floor of Tayyibat Al-Imam, of 447, both in Syria (see fig. D1). The first depiction shows a discrete window in one end, from which the occupant could see but not be seen. A single muleteer, with whip, is shown leading the litter from the front: this must have resulted in a major saving on manpower, although human chair-carriers were still active, 85  Carpenta: Not. Dign. images for praetorian prefects of Illyricum, Italy, and prefect of Rome. Sarcophagi: Wilpert (1929) vol 1.2 e.g. plates 21 and 23; small carpentum: see appendix E1 for houses, discounted section. 86  Rhedae: SHA Alex. Sev. 43 Ed. Diocl. 15.1. Plaustra, in sarcophagi (hay, liquids, wood): Wilpert (1929) vol. 1.2 plates 47, 85, 133. 87  Camels and mules present at Justiniana Prima: N. Markovi (2013) (not seen). Camel vs wagon: Bagnall (1985) 2–4. 88  Human porter for boxes: Wilpert (1929) vol. 1.2 plate 49. The sarcophagus shows a rural scene, but the pole and box method could have been used in cities.

247 as noted at Aphrodisias, and would have been needed to access many parts of cities that had steps or other obstacles. The function of this strange vehicle is clarified by a text of Socrates, which implies that it was the preferred mode of transport for women: Gratian was killed by an assassin in 383 who approached hidden in such a vehicle, which Gratian believed to contain his wife. This type of closed litter should not therefore be considered a means of transporting relics, as suggested by A. Zaqzuq and M. Piccirillo, but as a candidate to replace the traditional matron’s transports, which Isidore noted were no longer used in his day.89 Indeed, the vehicle seems to approximate to the basterna which he describes after his section on defunct female transports, as being fitted with soft rugs and drawn by two animals. According to Jerome, its occupants could sleep inside. The Anthologia Latina provides a more detailed description and rationale of its function.90 The gilded basterna conceals chaste matrons … a pair of mules carry it under two poles, and they move the cocoon forward at a modest pace. Great care has been taken to ensure that a chaste married lady should not go through public places darkened by the sight of men. The basterna seems to have been a new feature of the 4th c., as it does not appear in the sources before this time. It was perhaps present earlier, as an adaptation of a litter, but does not seem to have been anywhere as popular, or to have had the name basterna.91 It is on one occasion recorded being used openly by a man, noted by Symmachus, who also records that it was driven by a basternarius. Furthermore, it could be carried by porters, whilst still being called a basterna, not a sella or cathedra, which we have seen used as terms to describe sedan-chairs carried by porters, relating to Arles and Aphrodisias. On one occasion, at Verdun in 536, Gregory of Tours has a basterna carrying an unmarried aristocratic young woman, drawn by wild oxen, a coupling that led to a fatal road accident, assumed to be 89  Closed litter carried by mules, in mosaic: Zaqzuq and Piccirillo (1999) 443–64, especially 461; http://asinusaureus.canalblog .com/albums/ane_mythologique/photos/61934427-mosai que___apamee___musee.html (accessed November 2017). Mules carrying a sedan chair / litter (φορείῳ) resembling a couch (κλίνην), carrying assassin: Socrates Hist. eccl. 5.11. Matrons’ transports not in use: Isid. Etym. 20.12. 90  Basterna comfort: Isid. Etym. 20.12. Occupants sleep inside: Jer. Commentarium in Isiam Prophetam Book 66 Chapter 20 (PL24.696). Description and function: Anth. Lat. 101 Reise edn. / 90 Kay (2006) edn. p. 41, from which I have adapted the translation on p. 97. 91  Basterna not in ancient sources before 4th c.: Kay (2006) 98.

248 murder.92 For Ammianus, at Rome, it is the type of vehicle in which matrons appear in the street. In the Historia Augusta, it is given by the Emperor Elagabalus as a gift to eunuchs, alongside mules and other things, presumably because it is seen as unmasculine. The basterna is not mentioned in the Historiaʼs list of Elagabalusʼ regulations on female display, but sellae are described for them which were made of leather, or bone, or covered with ivory or silver, according to the status of the occupant.93 John Chrysostom describes how the mules which draw the vehicles of rich men’s wives glisten with gold, as do the skins and woods that compose the canopy.94 Traffic Regulation Although imperial laws sought to regulate the weight of loads on carts, there are no surviving legal regulations which exclude ordinary carts from city streets during daytime hours. Only the Notitia regionum urbis Romae of 334–57 indicates this: it records a place for carriages (area carruces) in Region 1 of the city. This likely indicates a place where vehicles could be left, implying a ban on at least some classes of them entering the city centre.95 Well-heeled individuals would probably try to get as close as they could before dismounting. The mosaic, from the House of Menander at Antioch [250–75], shows a light one-horse carriage with four wheels, with a single passenger, outside what looks like the porch of a great house, where he bids farewell to a female onlooker: an everyday scene of a patron leaving his domus to go into town.96 Yet at least some major public avenues at Rome, Constantinople, and Antioch must have been open to carriages of officials: for governors going to their praetorium, or for officials going to the palace, quite apart 92  Basterna for a man: Symmachus Ep. 6.15. Carried by porters CGL 4.24.35, 5.348.5 (from Kay (2006) 98, I don’t know how to use this source). Carried by wild oxen: Gregory of Tours, Hist. 3.26 (MGH SRM 1.1.123–24). 93  Basterna for women: Amm. Marc. 14.6.16; for Eunuchs: SHA Heliog. 21. Sellae for women, alongside chariots, horses, packanimals (i.e. mules), donkeys, carriages drawn by mules or by oxen, according to status: SHA Heliog. 4.4. 94  Gilded skins and wood of canopy (στέγη): Joh. Chrys. Hom in Rom. 11.6 (PG 60.492). The best commentary on the vehicle I have seen is Kay (2006) 97–100. 95  Cart square at Rome: Not. Rom. Regio 1. 96   Appearance of urban carriages, Antioch: Cimok (2000) 176–77. This carriage is not very different in design to the carriage shown on the relief of a 4th c. governor’s procession with religious statues, from Aquileia, and that shown in the Notitia Dignitatum as the insignia of the praetorian prefect of Illyricum. See chapter on processions, nn. 38–39. On a discussion of vehicles types according to their Latin names see: van Tilburg (2007) 51–57, partly based on a list from Isid. Etym. ca. 20.12.

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from the emperor. At Antioch and at Constantinople, high-status visitors to the palace frequently arrived by coach, though at Antioch generals expected to ride on horseback into their praetorium.97 T. van Tilburg suggests that wagons may have been forbidden inside Antioch in the time of Libanius.98 But, for Antioch, the Yakto mosaic shows a wagon carrying heavy timbers, on the main street in daylight.99 In the time of Justinian, Procopius describes very large stones being transported by wagon (one each per wagon) in the rebuilding of the same city. He also describes wagons pulled by forty oxen for the building of the Great Church at Jerusalem: these were for carrying exceptionally large stones, for which roads had to be widened by cutting into hillsides.100 Furthermore, the Yakto mosaic shows a team of mules coming down the main street of Antioch, led by a mule driver with stick, whilst a man on horseback is preceded by a man with a wand with a tassel, presumably to shoo people out of the way (fig. D1).101 Libanius claimed that one needed the help of horses to travel the full length of the city’s main colonnaded street.102 He was himself thrown from his horse when two mules (which were being turned round near the bouleuterion) blocked his passage in a street. This reference is particularly important as Libanius was returning home from class, thus it was after midday, and the incident occurred in a street next to the bouleuterion, which was on the Hellenistic agora.103 Thus, we should expect that at Antioch at least both the horses of the well-to-do and mules for deliveries occupied the main streets (though not the agorai) during the busiest time. This is certainly the situation shown on the Yakto mosaic of the mid 5th c. The presence of mules in the main streets of Antioch, especially their porticoes, was thought somewhat shocking by Julian, so the city may have been unusual, with more restrictive practices used elsewhere.104 97  In coaches to palace at Antioch: Amm. Marc. 14.7.4; for Cple: see processions chapter n. 150. On horseback into praetorium at Antioch: Joh. Chrys. Hom. ad pop. Ant. 17.2 (PG 49.173) with Lib. Or. 22.22 for an account of the same event. 98  Wagons at Antioch: von Tilburg (2007) 135. 99  Cart on main street of Antioch: Lassus (1934) 143, on a mosaic dated to the mid 5th c., by an inscription identifying villa as belonging to Ardaburius, magister militum per Orientem from AD 453 to 466, when he fell from favour. 100  Yakto mosaic, wagon: Lassus (1934) 142–43 fig. 20, no. 35. Wagons transporting stones: Procop. Aed. 2.10.21, 5.6.11–13. 101  Mules at Antioch on Yakto Mosaic: Lassus (1934) 143–44, fig. 21, nos. 36–39. 102  Horses (plural ἐξ ἵππων so could be carriages) use the main colonnaded street of Antioch: Lib. Or. 11.197. 103  Libanius’ accident: Lib. Or. 1.216–27. 104  Pack animals and horses with riders on main street in Antioch: Lassus (1934) 131, 142, 144, 153. Mules in porticoes at Antioch: Julian, Mis. 355B.

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We can, nonetheless, envisage some enforced pedestrianisation. Part of the evidence comes from literary sources or depictions. Descriptions by Chrysostom for Antioch / Constantinople of unmounted horses being led behind rich men, suggests that restrictions against all types of riding were in force, at least in agorai, during the main part of the day, perhaps for the latter city.105 Belisarius himself walked when going daily to the agora of the eastern capital, not entirely out of humility, as he was surrounded by an enormous suite of barbarian servants.106 Horses were excluded from the ‘Basilica’ courtyard in the capital. Servants might well bring up a horse behind their master when he strolled along in these spaces.107 Such restrictions will have made trips to some places, like to a distant church or a theatre, more feasible by coach or horse, as recorded above, whilst other outings, as to the agora, would have been better done on foot. But we should not imagine that restrictions were universal, within city centres, between different grades of city, or between different regions. As we will see, some of the finest cities on the East did not embrace pedestrianisation of their main avenues, when they could easily have done so, whilst others did. It seems that such regulations, although doubtless founded in a good understanding of urban amenity, were manifested as local habits. Pedestrianisation can sometimes be inferred from studying traffic obstacles. It can be observed at Ephesus— where the insertion of an arch on the Embolos closed this street to traffic—and at Apamea and Ptolemais, whereby sidewalks or fountains blocked access from minor roads. Indeed, at Apamea, a series of squares replaced the main street, as sidewalks of perpendicular streets were oddly built across it. A similar phenomenon can be observed at Caesarea Palestinae, with the installation of the Byzantine Esplanade in the 6th c.108 In some cases, we can envisage street barriers, acting not to regulate the street but to block access onto an agora: at Corinth, obstacles are set across the colonnaded street, next to steps leading to the main square, in large reused blocks. They seem to cut through the road paving. At 105  Unmounted horses being led behind rich men: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Cor. 40.5 (PG 61.354); Hom. in 2 Cor. 24.4 (PG 61.568– 69); Hom. in 1 Tim. 11.5 (PG 62.557–58). 106   Belisarius visiting agora on foot, daily, Constantinople: Procop. Goth. 3.1.5–6. 107  Horses excluded from ‘Basilica’ courtyard: Cod. Iust. 8.11.21 (AD 440). Horses brought along behind master who walks: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Cor. 40.5 (PG 61.354); Hom. in 2 Cor. 24.4 (PG 61.568–69); Hom. in 1 Tim. 11.5 (PG 62.557–58). 108  Pedestrianisation, the East: Apamea, blocking of main street: see appendix C3; Ptolemais: see appendix H6. Division of street into plazas: Apamea: see appendix A7b; Caesarea Palestinae: see appendix D2.

249 Sagalassos and Perge, the use of steps within the main roadway also acted as a barrier to access to the main avenue. In the latter case, roads open to wheeled transport were allowed to join up with the main street in places: short sections being open and full of ruts, others being smooth and closed.109 It is worth remembering that very steep gradients often made wheeled access impossible to important parts of hilltop cities, as at Sagalassos, Pergamon, and numerous mountain-top towns in southern Turkey; here animals were presumably the only way of getting goods into the centre. Any person who could not walk needed a horse, a mule, or a sedan chair.110 The absence of wheel marks on main avenues is strong evidence of pedestrianisation: they cannot be found on the main streets of at Corinth, Xanthos, Sagalasssos, or, surprisingly, on the Arcadiane of Ephesus (in contrast to surrounding streets).111 These great avenues probably saw wheeled traffic only on occasions of public ceremony, sometimes being closed even to this, by various obstacles. It seems likely that increasing pedestrianisation of major avenues was in fact one of the trends of the period, in some though not all major cities. Clearly it was not in vogue in 4th–5th c. Antioch, but it may not have remained so for long. The absence of obvious wheel ruts on the Justinianic paving [540–65] suggests that in his day pedestrianisation had become the norm. Likewise, the Cardo extension of Jerusalem [500–543] bears no signs of wheeled traffic. The adjacent Valley Cardo does have striations to prevent animal slipping, which the Embolos of Ephesus also exhibits, but neither have ruts. In the West, pedestrianisation has been suggested for late 4th c. Ostia, when a phase of new monuments, set at a higher level on the Decumanus, cut off access for wheeled vehicles, which were confined to a separate system of back streets. A major north-south access was probably shut in the 380s, which seems, from wider developments, to date the higher level. Pedestrianisation is also implied for part of the city centre of Trier, where a

109  Steps blocking street at Sagalassos and Perge: L. Lavan site observation 2003–2007. 110  Steep gradients at Sagalassos and Pergamon. I am grateful to F. Martens for her discussions on this topic, for which see Martens (2004) 389, 438–43. 111  Wheel ruts of great avenues: not at Xanthos, Sagalasssos, or the Arcadiane of Ephesus: L. Lavan site observation 2003– 2007. I did not photograph any obvious wheel ruts on the main streets of Caesarea (past the praetorium) or of Scythopolis, in 1998, but this might be due to the very hard material used to pave them, or that I was not then looking for them. It is worth recalling that the lava paving of the main street of Justinianic Antioch also had no ruts, as seen by Lassus (1972) 26, though this city had a tradition, up to this point, of using its main roads for vehicles.

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figure d1

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Forms of transport: Porter with baskets on pole; Mules and muleteer with stick; Plaustrum for hay?; Plaustrum for liquids (below); Plaustrum for large timber, Antioch, 480s; Cage wagon for animals, 4-wheeled, Piazza Armerina mosaic, later 4th c.; Chariot, Italian sarcophagus; Trap, for single horse, with four wheels: 4th c. mosaics, House of Menander, Antioch; Carpentum of Praetorian Prefect for Illyricum; Carpentum in a consular adventus, Italian sarcophagus; Basterna sedan chair carried by mules (below) P1200374 from late antique church mosaic floor of Tayibat Al-Imam, AD 447, Syria

late statue base in the middle of a street crossing would have made access difficult.112 112  Pedestrianisation, the West, Ostia: see appendix C9; Trier: see appendix H7.

Archaeological evidence for traffic, where it exists, is complex. The first issue to address is dating: how do we know which if any of the wheel ruts seen on ancient sites date from Late Antiquity? Wheel ruts are known that cut into repairs made in reused material for the

251

Late Antique Street Life

mosaic

portico stylobate

robbed sidewalk

roadway

sidewalk

0

10m

portico stylobate

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Wheelruts at Sardis

Marble Street in Ephesus, and for the principal road running past the theatre at Antioch in Pisidia, and that by the tetrapylon at Aphrodisias. They are also known on the Mese, by its junction with the Makros Embolos, within the new parts of Constantinople. However, only in a few cases do we have a clear terminus ante quem which confirms that the ruts were established in Late Antiquity and not after.113 For example: at Gerasa, we have rather unsystematic ruts on the round plaza, which is believed from the dating of the surrounding shops to be late 3rd / early 4th c. These were later covered by a layer containing 5th c. coins, when a higher street surface was established. This rutting has been connected by recent excavators to the inappropriate use of the roads for transporting heavy blocks spoliated from temples. At Sardis, wheel ruts were cut into the paving of the early 5th c. colonnaded street past the baths, which were later covered by a 7th c. surface.114 More often, we can only envisage a regional terminus ante quem for wheel ruts,

of the end of Late Antiquity. This is reasonable, because one early manifestation of degradation of the classical city was the covering of street surfaces in beaten earth. It is easiest to trace wheel ruts in Asia Minor or Greece, where slabs are often reused, but are of soft limestone, rather the basalt of the Near East or Egypt, also popular in Italy. I have been able to visit myself sites in these regions, where many observations could be made by a casual visitor. Britain has evidence in its well-excavated gravel surfaces, as Carthage potentially does. Africa is not represented in my work (I have not visited), although Timgad and other sites have wheel ruts, as represented in the new study of Poehler. This last work is now the key reference for Early Imperial wear studies, but is of only limited use for Late Antiquity, as little attempt is made to date the ruts, which is of course easier in Vesuvian cities. Whilst Poehler’s remarks on wear-markings in Africa and Italy are well-founded, unfortunately, his observations on Asia Minor are less complete.115

113  Wheel ruts at Ephesus, Antioch in Pisidia, and Aphrodisias: L. Lavan site observation 2004 and 2005. 114  Wheel ruts at Gerasa: L. Lavan observations on photo of S. Kamani (October 2013), with A. Walmsley pers. comm. On the dating of the round plaza and the higher surface: see appendices K1b and C10c. Wheel ruts at Sardis: see Hanfmann

(1962) 40, 42, fig. 33, with appendix C3 for details, with also details of the Mese at Constantinople. 115  Wheel ruts and other wear marks in Africa and Italy: Poehler (2017) 216–32, especially 218–219.

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figure d3

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Striations for animal grip, on the Upper Embolos, in early 5th c. paving, on the right-hand side of the road for those descending the hill.

Positive evidence of traffic management can be studied from both ruts and striations: here are some dated examples. Most often we see a single set of ruts, set in the middle of a street, as on major streets at Classe [in the paving of 526–50], at Philippi [paving of 250–527, disorganised pattern], at Dion [undated, but Early Imperial or 4th c. paving], at Antioch in Pisidia [paving of 250– 550], and at Ephesus (Marble Street) [paving of 410–36], even if there is ample room for two lanes of traffic, suggesting that access was granted to only one vehicle at a time, despite capacity for two. In a few cases, we have two sets of wheel ruts, as at Cirencester [surfaces of 395–420] and Herdonia [346–400]. Those at Cirencester were found close to a gate, showing that traffic came from / went to different zones of the city, perhaps implying a one-way system. Those at Herdonia were not straight and were cut into a trans-regional highway— the Via Trajana—which could explain why two sets of ruts were needed, to ensure traffic flowed easily. At Sardis, uniquely, three widely-spaced sets of wheel ruts are visible. Again, this was a trans-regional highway (which also served as a major colonnaded street), perhaps suggesting a rapid, non-local lane, or a distinction between different types of traffic [paving on 400–425] (fig. D2). We cannot know. Distances between ruts varied: at Cirencester, a late surface contained ruts for vehicles of up to 2 m in width [260–412]; at Trier, the Altbachtal suburban street, [367–92], on the east side of the city, produced ruts for wheels set 1.5 m apart; at Classe, the wheel ruts in Justinianic trachyte slabs [526– 550] were set some 2.5 m apart.116 116  Single set of ruts, at Classe: see appendix B7; at Philippi and Dion: see C9a; at Antioch in Pisidia: see C9a; at Ephesus

Striations (parallel lines set against the direction of traffic) are recorded on steep main streets at Philippi [paving of 250–527, with blocks perhaps reused], Delphi [paving of 324–50], Antioch in Pisidia [paving of 250–565], Jerusalem Secondary Cardo [430–530], and Ephesus Embolos and Ephesus Clivus Sacer [both paving of 410–36], and on minor streets at Ephesus [410–36] and Jerusalem [paving of 400–614]. These roads are all steep, except at Philippi, where blocks with striations seem reused. Thus, striations seem likely to represent grips for animals and pedestrians going downhill, as they are present on staircases, where going up is facilitated by the ‘treader’ of a staircase.117 This observation allows us to note that at Ephesus, on both the Embolos and a related side-street, the downhill traffic passed on the right-hand side of the street, from the early 5th c. onwards (see fig. D3). One can easily imagine that a laden donkey could lose its footing on the polished stones of this steep roadway, especially when wet. Evidence collected by Poehler from the colonnaded street of Laodicea [built sometime in 494–610] for 100% right-side drive also relates to our period. Observations from Sardis are also pertinent, coming from the east-west colonnaded street [built sometime 400–425]. Here, Poehler focused not on the obvious ruts in the centre of the roadway, but on wheel-markings set into the southern sidewalk, which revealed to him left-side and right-side driving in this strip, and also that traffic was being allowed to access the sidewalk via both directions. These marking show that there was flexibility, but do not overturn the overall impression of the survival of right-hand drive. In support of this, Poehler notes late patristic texts suggesting that the ʽrightʼ path was the correct one, during the period.118 The coexistence of roads with and without wheel ruts, within individual cities, gives us a chance to consider the existence of complex traffic systems, as can be envisaged at Trier, Ostia, Athens, Ephesus, and Jerusalem. Quite how those systems worked is difficult to reconstruct, as only small areas are known, compared to Pompeii, but their existence is beyond doubt. On this subject, the articles and new book of Poehler represent (Marble Street): see C3. Two sets of ruts, at Cirencester: see C10a; at Herdonia: see appendix C9b. Three sets of ruts, at Sardis: see C3. Distances between ruts, at Cirencester: C3; at Trier: see J1; at Classe: see B7. 117  Striations on main streets, at Philippi, Delphi: see appendix C1, Antioch in Pisidia, Jerusalem (Secondary Cardo): see C3, and Ephesus (Embolos and Clivus Sacer): see C3. On minor streets, at Ephesus and Jerusalem: J3. 118  For patristic statements on the right path being better see Poehler (2003) 8, to which I can add Prudentius Hamartigenia (On the origin of original sin) 696, for which I was not able to find an edition in time.

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figure d4

Street life in Antioch, 480s

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254 something of a revolution. He has been able not only to record wheel ruts, but to record directional wear marks of wagon wheels on street corners, including those on kerbs and various street obstacles. From this evidence, he has identified one-way streets at four sites in Italy: Pompeii, Minturnae, Alba Fucens, and Rome, with almost all sites examined showing evidence of right-side drive. There is also clear evidence of a free-for all at Timgad, where much wider streets seem to have encouraged more flexibility. Here there seems to have been neither a one-way system nor right-side traffic. Quite how much of Timgadʼs ruts applies to our period is an open question. It almost certainly includes the traffic practices of the 4th to earlier 5th c. A.D., prior to the surface potentially being covered by beaten earth as part of a generalised regional downgrading.119 Religious Life Although religious processions were the principal way in which religion permeated street space in Late Antiquity, there were more permanent reminders of popular piety and religious identity to be found along major roadways. Perhaps most noticeable to a foreign visitor were graffiti crosses, carved in a great variety of forms on vertical surfaces (walls and columns). These can be seen at sites like Aphrodisias, Sagalassos, and Perge, and represent the most common form of late antique graffito (fig. D5). At Sagalassos, the frequency of carefully carved crosses on some monuments (nymphaea, baths, and statue bases) makes one suspect a systematic programme of civic Christianisation, led by the bishop. The same could be said of crosses carefully carved into gates at Constantinople and Ephesus, which have been connected to attempts to protect against earthquakes. Often, these crosses are not set in an advantageous position for the observer, or are small enough to be not immediately visible to the causal viewer. The textual evidence for the use of crosses (which I will save for another occasion) suggests very strongly that apotropaic practice is at work, and that protection here was sought against earthquakes.120 When carved on statues they are most common on the statue base, not on the statue 119  One-way systems: Poehler (2017), with table 8.1 of data on 218–219 and comments on Sardis on 221. 120  On apotropaic crosses see esp. Ćurčić (1992) (focusing on protection against earthquakes) with Crow (2008); Morony (2003), and Walter (1997). Crosses carefully carved into gates; at Cple, Golden Gate: Meyer (1938) 87–99, with 90 fig. 13; Arch of Theodosius: Naumann (1976) 128 fig. 6. On apotropaic crosses and slogans on house lintels see Prentice (1906). At Emesa, intervention of Symeon the Fool protects individual columns of agora from earthquake damage: Evagr. Hist. eccl. 4.34.

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body, where they can occur on the chest as much as on the head.121 We do have a little evidence for statue mutilation in Late Antiquity (throats cut, eyes chiselled out etc.) but this does not match what we have here. Rather than think of crosses representing exorcism, an explanation one might evoke for the Middle Byzantine period, it is better to think simply in terms of statue protection.122 It is likely that some crosses were intended to sanctify civic business rather than protect against earthquakes. Why put a carefully carved cross on the paving at the entrance to an episcopal complex in Philippi, if not to evoke some kind of blessing in passing? The position of small crosses above lintels of late antique churches suggests that this is what was intended. The sign of the cross was a prayer, and used as such in texts, not simply as a symbol. Most obviously, ‘sanctification’ develops with the appearance of crosses at the start of civic inscriptions, from around 400, as I discuss in the dating foreword of this volume. In imperial inscriptions, certainly by the 6th c., there might be a further invocation of God, or perhaps of Mary and Jesus, before the name of the ruler. Such formulas were new only in terms of theology, recalling the sacrifices carried out before public business in earlier times. Thus, crosses appear at the start of decrees, building inscriptions, honorific dedications, and topos inscriptions, not apparently the result of top-down imposition, but rather a habit which developed amongst a few elite families in the Aegean in the first decade of the 5th c. It is identical in chronology and regional distribution to the appearance of the formula Χ Μ Γ (‘Christ born of Mary’) hidden within the hair of certain statues of governors, some of the same family, and also written prominently on their statue bases. Both crosses and Χ Μ Γ inscriptions were very likely designed to sanctify. Can the appearance of crosses as motifs decorating professionally-cut gameboards, as at Ephesus (fig. F7a) and Sagalassos, be treated in the same manner? Perhaps not. Here, one suspects crosses have simply entered into a decorative repertoire, as they did on the parapets of nymphaea and smaller street fountains. Crosses on the mid-6th c. tetrastylon at Ephesus sit amidst a range of other symbols, as they do on many contemporary monuments.123 121  Crosses on statues: e.g. at Ephesus (head of Augustus and Livia): Alzinger (1972–75) 262–65, 296. On statue bases at Thessalonica, Tripolis ad Meandrum, Sagalassos: LL site observations; Duman and Baysal (2016) 578–80 fig. 5; Lavan (2013) 319 fig. 10a plus appendix S11. 122  Statue mutilation: Saradi and Eliopoulos (2011) 294–99, Smith (1990), Walsh (2018) 67–92. Statues and demons in the Middle Byzantine period: James (1996). 123  Sanctifying crosses and Χ Μ Γ: see dating foreword and appendix H7 on Sardis. I will save the abundant textual evidence for another publication. Here I do not accept the interpretation of Chaniotis (2011) 203 that the Χ Μ Γ inscription represents an

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figure D5

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Crosses in context, with suggested meanings (left to right, top to bottom): Alahan lintel (as a passage prayer), Perge (sanctifying an official act), Aphrodisias city gate (identitarian or atropaic against siege, as on inside face), Hierapolis Baths (atropaic, against earthquake), Sagalassos Hadrianic nymphaeum (single cross, centre of monument, atropaic), Thessalonica statue base (atropaic), Ephesus tetrakionon (decorative), Aphrodisias church portal (votive), Sardis Temple (votive, as many?), Sagalassos outside shop (identitarian, shop owner), Perge (cross monuments depicted, graffito), Athens Roman Agora (graffiti). These crosses have either been published by me previously or are well-known features in public areas of archaeological parks.

Very occasionally, one can see large crosses cut into the lintels or podia of gate structures, as if a statement of civic identity was being made, as at Messene. act of Christian resistance. For Philippi: L. Lavan site observation 2017. Gameboards, Ephesus and Sagalassos: Lavan (2013) 62 fig. 4 and 336, 342 fig. 15. On nymphaea and fountains: see appendices K7a–7c. On the tetrastylon, on the Arcadiane at Ephesus: see appendix F2.

This development can be seen at Aphrodisias, on both a city gate and the tetrapylon (removing a portrait of Aphrodite). Was this because Christ now ruled the city, in the same way as emperors did, when their icon was displayed on city gates? This suggestion, explored in the previous chapter, finds some support from Athens. Here, the inscriptions on the old gate of Hadrian proclaimed the entrance on one side into the city of Hadrian, and on the other into the city of Theseus, being rulers of their

256 respective cities. The appearance of large crosses in this position at Aphrodisias might suit the moment when the city changed its name to Stauropolis (‘City of the Cross’) and began to remove Aphrodite from inscriptions. A similar process happened at Ephesus about a century earlier, sometime before 550: the name of Artemis was removed from the civil basilica, and a cross was erected on or next to the Gate of Nero, in place of her image, as in hagiographic tales.124 Such symbols recall the identitarian crosses described in text, being erected as part of dramatic attacks on temples and synagogues, or those set up in Alexandria to replace images of Serapis on houses. These events find an (admittedly tiny) epigraphic echo in the placing of crosses on religious images in a mithraeum at Hawarte and in the temple of Philae. However, the crosses of the second site are perhaps very late, at a site which has pagan inscriptions present up to 456/57.125 We should not imagine crosses being carved on a large scale within streets and squares during the late 4th c., as part of a dramatic overturning of religious identity. The appearance of monumental crosses, set on columns, seems to be very late, and not systematic, as discussed in the streets chapter. Crosses inscribed after 400 do not appear in settings of conflict, but as doodles and epigraphic formulae. The menorah later converted into a cross at Laodicea ad Lycum, does not seem to have been inscribed before 494.126 It is likely that crosses and menorahs carved on columns outside shops, alongside depictions of saints, related to the religious identity of the artisan who occupied them, as discussed in the chapter on commercial space. By the early 7th c., such crosses must have been common in public space. This is revealed through the story of ‘Umayr ibn Sa‘d, an Early Islamic governor of Damascus under ‘Umar (634–44), which is preserved by the historian Dionysius. ‘Umayr 124  Crosses on gate / arch lintels at Messene: L. Lavan site observation 2017; at Aphrodisias on City Gate: this cannot be dated except that it is later than the inscriptions of the 360s which they cut through: ALA 22 and 42; on Tetrapylon: see Outschar (1996) 203 fig. 2. Removal of names: at Aphrodisias see Roueche (2007) for the change to Stauropolis; at Ephesus: see appendices X1b on the basilica, F7b and H7 on repairs to an arch and the statue. Cross replaces a statue of Artemis at Ephesus: IvE 4.1351. 125  Cross to be set up as part of destruction of temples: Cod. Theod. 16.10.25 (AD 435, Theodosisus II); Cross set up as part of conversion of a synagogue at Daphne in Antioch into a church, under Anastasius: Malalas 16.6. Alexandrian crosses set up in place of Serapis: Rufinus 2.29. Cross at Hawarte: see Walsh (2018) 122–24. Crosses at Philae: Nautin (1967) (not seen) with Dijkstra (2011) 425 noting last pagan inscription here dating to AD 456/57. 126  Laodicea ad Lycum menorah and cross: see appendix C2 for full references.

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ordered that all crosses be extirpated and effaced from walls and streets and places open to view, forbidding the standard of the Cross to be shown on days of feasting and supplication. The Jews, apparently overjoyed, responded by taking down crosses on the roofs of churches, leading to complaints from the Christian community. At that point ‘Umayr clarified his remarks, stating that only the crosses seen in passing through the street were to be effaced, which likely implies the very type of crosses discussed so far.127 The Laodicea menorah-cross has been taken as a dramatic challenge to identity but clearly does not belong, from its form or architectural setting, in a 4th c. conflict between Christians and Jews, as some have claimed. Rather, it should date after 450, by style, and after 494, based on archaeological context. It might represent a change in fortunes for the city’s Jewish community, or it might also represent a change in shop ownership.128 Overwritten place inscriptions in theatres are known earlier, as one group temporarily expands its seating at the expense of another. But such overwriting does not imply the removal of one group from society. At Tyre, the topos inscriptions of the circus show the presence of Blues and Greens, sanctified with crosses inscribed before their names, but the topos inscriptions of Samaritans associated with them do not bear crosses, and menorahs are used alongside the names of Jews.129 These texts are undoubtedly from the later 5th to 7th c. and suggest that inscribed signs of different groups could coexist in parts of the East Mediterranean. Here, at a civic level, the rights of Jews and Samaritans remained in place, in the street as in the theatre. Christianisation does not seem to have had much impact on them. The position of pagans is less clear, but the absence of explicitly ‘pagan’ symbols outside of Aphrodisias makes them harder to track. We are left to wonder if this is because pagans did not use such explicit symbols, or if they used them at a time (in the 4th c.) when markings on columns were painted rather than chiselled, as they increasingly were in the 5th to 7th c., by which time ‘pagan’ had ceased to post such signs. The unsystematic and concentrated nature of many other graffiti crosses must mark them out as signs of popular devotion, or at least popular doodling. They have rarely been studied, and so it is difficult to date them, though at Sagalassos three crosses were carved onto a shop wall built after an earthquake around 500, 127  Crosses in the street, Damascus: Dionysius (reconstituted) 13.89. 128  Laodicea ad Lycum menorah and cross: see appendix C2 for full references. 129  Crosses on topos inscriptions of circus of Tyre: Rey-Coquais (2002) esp 327. Kahwagi-Janho H. (2012) 43–49.

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and the majority are splayed crosses, normally dated to the later 5th–6th c. AD. Others of the same style were cut into flat ground surfaces near the north-west gate, as they were on the Alytarch Stoa at Ephesus, or on steps at Antioch in Pisidia. At Athens, in the Roman Agora, a group of crosses drawn on the paving in a patch look distinctly like the work of one or two individuals, sat at ease in the plaza. At Laodicea ad Lycum, their appearance, in a street totally rebuilt after 494, occurs in association with human and animal figures, making a direct religious purpose uncertain. It is in such unstructured settings that we also find double axes of Carian Zeus at Aphrodisias, identified by Chaniotis, known on coins of the city: on the floor of the tetrapylon, on the wall of a cistern of the Hadrianic Baths, in a small room behind the stage of the odeon-bouleuterion. Chaniotis sees these as symbols of active religious conflict prior to an imperial triumph of Christianity, but these axes are not set in very meaningful locations, neither are we sure of their date. There is no reason to suppose they are not the casual doodlings of pagans or patriots of Caria. It is very likely that, like the crosses which surround them, they date from the 5th to 6th c., not the 4th c. Indeed, their proximity to crosses tells us nothing about competition between symbols, as active erasure is not evident. Much of Chaniotis’ interpretation of religious conflict at Aphrodisias seems to rely on using inscribed markings to illustrate what he believes to be religious competition, in models derived from literary and legal evidence, rather than using the dating and distribution of these markings as an independent source of information, which might potentially reveal other dynamics at work.130 At Ephesus and Philippopolis in Thrace, the appearance of crosses on a city gate suggests some religious meaning. Philippopolis’ small crosses evoke the concentration of such crosses seen at Christian sanctuary sites, where the meaning may well be votive, and also at some major pagan temples, such as Delphi, Priene, and Sardis, or at the altar of the Highest God at Gortyn, where one also suspects a connection to religious activity.131 Is the appearance of a cluster on the gate at Philippopolis to do with processions? Perhaps, but I think the context is specific: a procession or other ritual against the failure of the gate in a siege. It is better to consider clusters of such small crosses as votive acts, as one might see around a 130  Aphrodisias: double axes of Carian Zeus (labrys): Chaniotis (2011) 202–203; (2002b) 103–104. 131  Sagalassos crosses: Lavan (2008) 207–209. Ephesus, Antioch, Athens, Philippopolis, Delphi, Priene, Sardis: L. Lavan site observations 2002–2013.Gortyn: Rizzo (2004). Laodicea ad Lycum: see appendix C2. Ephesus (on central piers of the Magnesian Gate): Wood (1877) 111–12. On the dating of the crosses, see the dating foreword to the appendices.

tomb converted into a church at Arykanda or on the door jambs of the cathedral at Aphrodisias. Here we can read crosses in the context of surrounding inscribed prayers, which are not at all concerned with the former dedication of the temple on this site to Aphrodite. Thus, graffiti crosses in public space may sometimes have been associated with personal prayers rather than a wider civic or identitarian purpose, if they were not casually-cut markings, of what is a very easy symbol to draw. Perhaps we should pay more attention to the short invocations and other prayers written in the same period in public space, seen on the Hadrianic nymphaeum and the Roman Baths at Sagalassos, or along the street at Laodicea. These are sometimes explicitly Christian, other times not (‘Lord help your servant!’).132 They have rarely been recorded systematically, but represent a very different type of inscribed graffiti to the lewd remarks of Pompeii. The latter are only replicated in one possible example so far for Late Antiquity, at Aphrodisias, suggesting a subtle but measureable change in tone.133 At Alexandria at least, not only devotional practice but also theology was present in the street, as evoked in a famous remark by Gregory of Nyssa on life there in the 380s, which is so often shorn of its topographical preface, when quoted: The whole city is full of it, the broadways (πλατεῖαι), the market places (ἀγοραί), the crossroads (ἄμφοδα), the alleyways (στενωποί\): oldclothes men, money-changers, food sellers, they are all busy arguing. If you desire someone to change a piece of silver, he philosophizes about the Begotten and the Unbegotten. If you ask the price of a loaf of bread, you are told by way of reply that the Father is greater and the Son is subordinate. If you enquire whether your bath is ready, the answer is that the Son was made out of nothing. Greg. Nyss., De deit. Fil. (PG46.557) (my translation)

Regulatory Visits A final category of street activity, not yet discussed above, is that of public regulatory visits. We have very few explicit accounts of these, though they are implied by a number of sources, in the 4th and 5th century East, and certainly implied for the 6th c. by the urban rule 132  Religious graffiti texts at Laodicea ad Lycum: see appendix C2; at Aphrodisias: see Lavan (2013a) 337, 343. 133  Pompeii, sexualised graffiti: Cooley and Cooley (2014) e.g. D118–20, D126–28. Aphrodisias, possible sexualised insult: Roueché (1993) 35–36, no. 7b with Chaniotis (2011) 204, from the plaster wall of the back stage corridor of the bouleuterion.

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book of Julian of Ascalon, and regulations preserved in 6th c. legal collections. Yet, in order to include the street in all its fullness we must try to reconstruct some of the behavioural manifestations that these rules imply. One (imagined) description we have is of an inspection of oil lamps at Antioch, where epimelètai (civic functionaries) demanded that a shop occupier top up the oil in the light outside her door despite her modest means.134 The rounds of night watchmen (nykterinoi phylakes) are also attested, by Chrysostom, who describes their work as so hard as to shame ordinary people who were tucked up in bed. They, by man’s law, go their rounds in the cold, shouting loudly, and walking through lanes and alleys, oftentimes drenched with rain and (all) congealed with cold, for thee and for thy safety, and the protection of thy property. There is he taking such care for thy property, while thou takest none even for thy soul. Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Ac. 26.4 (PG 60.204) (transl. P. Schaff Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers series 1, vol. 11 p. 189)

For Constantinople, we have already mentioned a law of Zeno describing aqueduct inspectors (whose hands were stamped with the emperor’s name) who worked across the city to prevent abuses of the piped water supply. They must have regularly checked connections to fountains and pipes under roads.135 Street cleaners would also have been common visitors: cleaning out the sewers with ‘poles and drags’, removing debris from the roadway which might clog them further, in the West of Salvian, as at Constantinople. Cleaners might also report abuses, such as the dumping of excrement, carcasses, and skins. This could have included the inappropriate display of goods, such as newly-made carts, which might block the road: the opinions of the Severan jurist Papinian, preserved in the Digest, tried to deal with such violations.136 We do not know how regularly rubbish was removed, but the systematic formation of secondary rubbish deposits, many of which date from 134  Public regulatory visits, oil lamps: Lib. Or. 33.6. 135  Aqueduct inspectors: Cod. Iust. 11.43(42).10 (law of Zeno). 136  Street cleaners cleaning sewers: Joh. Chrys. Hom in 1 Tim. 13.4 (PG 62.570). Also on street cleaners (κοπρῶναι) see Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Eph. 10.2 (PG 62.77). No dumping of excrement, dead animals, skins on street: Dig. 43.10.1.5. Fullers dry cloth on the streets and cartwrights to store products there, if not blocking traffic, but no-one else can leave things outside of workshops: Dig. 43.10.1.4 (in both cases quoting Papinian, who died in 212). The latter practice was likely superseded, if ever observed, due to the commercial interest of shopkeepers and their related rights over portico space.

Late Antiquity, around Roman cities, is testimony to a well-organised system that did not rely on individual initiative. We hear from Antioch of an attempt to requisition donkeys to move building waste. This practice is presented as abusive by Libanius, but this use of carts is anticipated by the Table of Heraclea, relating to Italian cities of the 1st c. BC.137 The existence of controls over market stalls and the use of portico space by shop owners, also presuppose regulatory visits, and perhaps rent collection.138 In the same way, the building regulations found in the Theodosian Code and the rulebook of Julian of Ascalon imply some construction controls as late as the 6th c. in the East.139 We also hear of rules on the display of pictures in porticoes, of actors and charioteers and strictures on correct behaviour in public space, although the latter relates to Constantinopolitan agorai.140 I have also noted evidence of areas reserved for different kinds of vehicle / animal parking, which could have been connected to payment. The use of these spots might have been overseen by a rule-enforcer. Unfortunately, we have not a single document that would allow us to see them working in practice. Civic authorities, such as governors, relied on the compulsory labour of shop keepers and fines for non-compliance, rather than any kind of ‘works department’.141 But there may have been a temptation here, as elsewhere in Late Roman administration, to convert a public obligation into a cash liability, the money from which might have employed a single operator. This happened on at least one occasion in Libanius’ Antioch, relating to the painting of shops doors.142 It seems likely that most policing of abuses of urban rules 137  Donkeys requisitioned to move building waste: Lib. Or. 50.3–4, 23–31 (Or. 50.5 implies that publicly owned donkeys, mules, and camels should be doing it). Use of carts to move this: Lex Iulia Municipalis 59–62. 138  Market stall and use of porticoes by shop owners: see chapter on commercial space. 139  Building control rules: e.g. Cod. Theod. 4.24 (date lost) which requires that 10 ft to be left between private buildings (confirmed by Symmachus, Ep. 6.9 after AD 394) and 15 ft between public buildings, with the latter rule repeated in Cod. Theod. 15.1.46 (AD 406) = Cod. Iust. 8.10.9; Cod. Iust. 8.10.12.2 (Leo (II) and Zeno, so AD 474) asks for 12 ft between private houses. Julian of Ascalon 216 (see also 25) mentions 10 ft. On these distances see Saliou (1994) 263–70. 140  Pictures (pictura) of actors of pantomimes or charioteer or actor, not allowed in public porticoes or places where imperial imagines are consecrated: Cod. Theod.15.7.12pr. (AD 394, Heraclea). Controls on comportment, Constantinople in ‘Basilica’ square: Cod. Iust. 8.11.21 (AD 440). 141  Compulsory labour for street maintenance: e.g. Lib. Or. 27.31 (I did not quite master the Greek here), 33.33 (painting of doors compelled by governors). 142  Financial obligation of shopkeepers to fill oil lamps: Lib. Or. 33.6. Not the case in Edessa: Josh. Styl. 87 (AD 504/505). Public

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would be reactive, based on the initiative of administrators, and did not involve visits for oversight. This much seems to be confirmed by accounts of activities of governors and emperors who remedied abuses worthy of note in chronicles and legal texts.143 Nevertheless, it should not be assumed that the slaves of the curia or civic pateres did not know their cities intimately. Such knowledge would have been necessary to permit complex administrative actions, such as the quartering of troops, details of which were written on the doorposts of houses when a unit arrived in a city.144 Street Culture Aside from being the setting of specific activities, the street can also be perceived as a cultural setting in which a particular type of experience could be obtained, for those who did not have to remain there at all times, but who passed through it as an interlude between house and baths, agora or church. Unlike the very poor, the rich had the means to detach themselves from the street, within the halls of their large courtyard houses and, to an extent, their carriages. For those living in monasteries, the urban street must have represented the opposite of their focused lives, a place overloaded with colour, in contrast to the sensory deprivation of spiritual retreat. We do not have any urban letters of errant monks, but the urban street doubtless represented a challenge to an ascetic who thought he or she could do without the world. For some wealthy young women sat in upper rooms at home, insulated from hard work, their own seclusion, between managed outings, must have seemed a great contrast to the street outside. They might be allowed out unsupervised for a Christian festival, to witness the delights of the city on a special day, even unveiled: Choricius in Gaza, ca. 535–48, understands this is exceptional, an escape from their usual chambers.145 Agathias, active in Smyrna in the later 6th c., imagines a more stereotypical view of wealthy girls, meditating on the life of boys:

obligations converted into cash payments: Jones (1964) 460–61 (in relation to taxes of central government). 143   Initiatives of emperors, at Cple: (removing constructions from the palace) Cod. Theod. 15.1.47 (AD 409); of governors, at Antioch: Lib. Or. 33.35 (lighting ‘tripled’ by order of government); at Edessa: Josh. Styl. 29 (AD 496/97) (removing stalls of tradesmen from colonnades and streets). 144  Quartering of troops: Cod. Theod. 7.8.4 (AD 393). 145  Maidens let out in festivals, remove their veils: Choricius Or. 2.69.

Young men have not so much suffering as is the lot of us poor tender-hearted girls. They have friends of their own age to whom they confidently tell their cares and sorrows, and they have games to cheer them, and they can stroll in the streets and let their eyes wander from one picture to another. We on the contrary are not even allowed to see the daylight, but are kept hidden in our chambers, the prey of dismal thoughts. Anth. Graec. 5.297 (Agathias Scholasticus) (transl. W.R. Paton 1916)

This perspective, of the streets as series of images, through which one wanders passively, approaches our own urban experience of over-stimulation and lack of concentration, when faced with the flashing lights of shopping malls, or oneʼs own phone. If one did not have a definite place in the street, as stall holder, patron, or immobile beggar, the experience of movement, in a society where all classes of people were visible in the street, was perhaps slightly voyeuristic: colourful but detached and transient. Choricius’ unveiled girls did not even notice the remarks of admirers, so taken are they by the many things to be seen in the festivals. A master forgets his anger with slaves for the same reason: he is momentarily distracted. Small wonder therefore that streets were, for some, an arena of social observation, where one’s view of the world might be confirmed or challenged by the behaviour of people with very different lives. Augustine had such an encounter in walking along one of the streets of Milan with his friends. On seeing a poor beggar ‘joking and joyous’, he felt that his own mental and professional world, with all its cares and complexities, had been punctured, and that his more complex pursuit of happiness was in vain. Chrysostom records other interactions, noted by P. Brown, between passers-by and disabled beggars who could not live by music or juggling: people were persuaded to give money when adjured by the eyes of absent relatives, or on hearing compliments about their appearance, which had greater success than appeals to religion. Other passers-by angrily called out that beggars in the streets were cheats.146 Chrysostom had a flâneur’s eye for detail and filled his sermons with many observations of life in the streets. He recounts not just on the plight of the poor but on the vanity of the daily processions of aristocrats and their flunkies, which he felt could provoke laughs of moral pity, as well as admiration. He thought that his 146  Encounters with beggars, Milan: August. Conf. 6.6.9. Beggars calling out to passers-by: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Thessal. 11.3 (PG 62.465). Beggars called cheats: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Jo. 77.4 (PG 59.418). Drawing on Brown (2002) 94.

260 congregation may have seen women ‘of the agora’ being beaten in public. His observations also include street experiences away from the main avenues. He describes how one can hear into houses, as one walks along the alleys (narrow streets); one might hear a slave girl wailing in tears, being beaten by the mistress of a house. The reaction of passers-by is predictable: ‘What can possibly be more disgraceful than the sound of those wailings? What in the world has happened there? All the women around immediately peep in and one of them says, ‘Such a one is beating her own maid.’ Whatever can be more shameless than this?’147 We rarely have a systematic description of the possibilities of street encounters. Schoolbooks focus on the forum much more than on the street, in describing the lives of well-heeled young students. The Life of Symeon the Fool is perhaps the most detailed exploration of social textures in streets: from beggars and children; tavern keepers, workers, and customers; fast food stall workers; shop-keepers and customers; to mule-drivers and runners (?of errands). It explores the possibility of the street in evangelising a wide range of people, via the antics of the saint, providing a glimpse of how people actually encountered each other in 6th c. Emesa. The only other late antique source that approaches this, to my knowledge, is the Yakto mosaic. The main street of Antioch is depicted as a series of ‘pictures’, rather as Agathias envisaged, of figures picked out from the street: a patron on his horse preceded by a servant with a tassel, a rich lady out with her servants, a friendly dog, a man reclining on a couch whilst a drink is being poured, dice players, stalls, a father with boy, bread-sellers, butchers, a heavy wagon looming into view, a train of mules, and, every so often, individual public buildings dazzling through, with lights, great porches, or other distinctions. These lists may seem basic, but they are the closest we can get to the street sensations of ordinary people, a contrast to the commentaries of intellectuals. There were also, occasionally, remarkable events to be witnessed, aside from those provided by political or religious authorities or rioting mobs, whereby the secluded spaces beyond porches suddenly became visible and connected to the street. Such a happening is recalled by Chrysostom, whereby a fire in a rich house provided a fascinating spectacle to crowds of curious people, and with it, a window on the lives of the privileged. It is, again, an image of passivity, of spectacle, and of the indifference of bystanders. There was nothing new about the occasion, although such events were now commented and critiqued by Christian writers, who might have 147  Woman beaten in agora (could mean ‘in public’ in this context): Joh. Chrys. Hom in Rom. 77.5 (PG 60.514). Maid beaten in house: Joh. Chrys. Hom in Eph. 15.3 (PG 62.109).

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been unnerved by the exhibition of hypnotic moral detachment from the watchers themselves, observing but not really present in the street. You have oftentimes been present at the burning of large houses. You have seen how the smoke keeps rising up to Heaven; and if no one comes near to put a stop to the mischief, but everyone keeps looking to himself, the flame spreads freely on, and devours everything. And oftentimes the whole city will stand around; they will stand round indeed as spectators of the evil, not to aid nor assist. And there you may see them one and all standing round, and doing nothing but each individual stretching out his hand, and pointing out to someone who may be just come to the spot, either a flaming brand that moment flying through a window, or beams hurled down, or the whole circuit of the walls forced out, and tumbling violently to the ground. Many too there are of the more daring and venturesome, who will have the hardihood even to come close to the very buildings themselves while they are burning, not in order to stretch forth a hand towards them, and to put a stop to the mischief, but that they may the more fully enjoy the sight, being able from the nearer place to observe closely all that which often escapes those at a distance. Then if the house happens to be large and magnificent, it appears to them a pitiable spectacle, and deserving of many tears. And truly there is a pitiable spectacle for us to behold; capitals of columns crumbled to dust, and many columns themselves shattered to pieces, some consumed by the fire, others thrown down often by the very hands which erected them, that they may not add fuel to the flame. Statues again, which stood with so much gracefulness, with the ceiling resting on them, these you may see all exposed, with the roof torn off, and themselves standing hideously disfigured in the open air. And why should one go on to describe the wealth stored up within? The tissues of gold, and the vessels of silver? And where the lord of the house and his consort scarcely entered, where was the treasure house of tissues and perfumes, and the caskets of the costly jewels—all has become one blazing fire, and within now, are bathmen and street-cleaners, and runaway slaves, and everybody; and everything within is one mass of fire and water, of mud, and dust, and half-burnt beams! Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Eph. 10.2 (PG 62.77) (transl. P. Schaff Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers s. 1, vol. 13 p. 189)

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Late Antique Street Life

Temporality The timing of all street activity would have done much to define different times of day in major Mediterranean cities of the period. We can just about manage a temporal reconstruction for later 4th c. Antioch, based on the descriptions of Libanius and Chrysostom, and a few references borrowed from elsewhere. Chrysostom describes the narrow street during the night as so quiet it is like death, although the silence is occasionally punctuated by the cries of the night watchman.148 The first noises of the day would seem to have been those of muleteers delivering to the market, joined by schoolboys going off to class, perhaps before cockcrow if Martial’s testimony still held true. These pupils would have met huddles of the pious going off to church for dawn prayers.149 The last hours of night, leading up to daybreak were, for Chrysostom, peopled by artisans, donkey drivers, and merchants (emporoi), alongside those whom he wished to see at prayer.150 Around the third hour (ca. 9am), artisans would begin work, and doctors visited their patients, who received sympathetic guests at this time.151 Funerals could be undertaken at or before this moment.152 It was also the time when heads of families could attend salutatio audiences in the houses of the wealthy, which might end with a procession of patron, domestic staff and clients into the forum / agora, which seems to have happened from 10am.153 Street traffic and commercial activity would then have been intense until around midday, when stalls would pack up, beasts of burden leave the city, and people of leisure move off to lunch in their own homes, or in public baths, and from there to dinner.154 Festivals often ex148  Chrysostom describes the narrow street during the night as so quiet it is like death: Joh. Chrys. Hom in Ac. 26.3 (PG 60.202). Night watchman (τοὺς νυκτερινοὺς φύλακας): Hom. in Act. 26.4 (PG 60.204): Ἐκεῖνοι δι’ἀνθρώπινον νόμον πειριΐασιν ἐν κρυμῷ βοῶντες μεγάλα, καὶ διὰ τῶν στενωπῶν βαδίζοντες, βρεχόμενοι πολλάκις. 149  On mule deliveries and children going to school, both in the morning, see nn. 61–62 and n. 19 above. 150  People active in the last hours of night: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Act. 26.3 (PG 60.202). 151   Third hour, when artisans go to work: Ephr. Hymn on Nicomedia 7.109 and 7.105; when doctors visit patients: 7.109 and 7.121, when guests received: 7.109 and 7.115. 152  Funerals: Ephr. Hymn on Nicomedia 7.109, 7.125–45; Libanius joined them during school time (Or. 34.22–23), which was in the morning (Or. 58.8–9 and Ep. 25.7), whilst that of his friend Adelphius was at dawn (Or. 1.174). 153  Timing of the salutatio at the third hour: Ephr. Hymn on Nicomedia 7.107; just before the 4th hour (ca. 10 am) in Auson. Carm. 2.4 (The Daily Round). 154  Commercial activity intense until around midday, as agora full at third hour (ca. 9am), before sun fills it: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Act. 5.2 (PG 60.51), Hom. in Act. 35.3 (PG 60.256). Animals leave the city: see n. 66. Baths and dinner: see n. 31.

tended into the evening, when major streets could be lit, but otherwise, except in the largest towns, theatres and probably shops closed and street life came to an end at sunset. After this time, taverns became the main centres of social interaction, away from the dinners of the rich.155 In larger cities, there might have been some sport to be had in sitting out on pavements playing dice in front of public buildings, where lights persisted, or in milling around churches where evening prayers were said. But in smaller towns, the sight of cattle coming home for the night along the main roads was perhaps enough to send any stragglers to bed, and to leave the dark spots to beggars and dogs. Conclusions Summary, Limitations, Distinctiveness, Causes of Continuity and Change It is clear that the essentially open character of streets, as popular social environment for both sexes and all ages, continued throughout the late antique period. Transport regulation, in the form of pedestrianisation, parking restrictions, or one-way traffic, can be attested for at least the 4th c. in Rome and Ostia, and for the 6th c. for Ephesus and Apamea, and in Constantinople from the 4th to 6th c. There is no evidence of a collapse of the regulatory culture of legal rights and public services in streets within these communities or elsewhere in medium and large cities of the East. Rather, the amenity of main streets remained a high priority, reflecting architectural evidence for sundials, fountains, drains, professionally-cut gameboards, lighting, covered walkways, and portico mosaics, all of which ensured that street life was a good deal more pleasant in the 6th c. East than at any subsequent time until the 20th c. Yet, as I noted in the chapter on streets, everyday function does not seem to have greatly shaped the grander aspects of street architecture. Aesthetics and processional use were here more significant: wagons were rarely given priority through cities but rather had to take circuitous back routes, to accommodate pedestrian esplanades. Within this setting, a great deal of urban activity took place that sadly does not leave any archaeological trace. This might have permitted us to compare the accounts given in our texts for a handful of prominent cities, and, thus, gain a sense of perspective on the balance between reality and rhetoric within each source. Hence, an account of 155  Theatres close in evening, spectators leave: see n. 29. Festivals in the evening, when streets lit: see chapter on processions n. 323 and n. 324. Taverns as where the poorest spend their night: Amm. Marc. 14.6.25; see chapter on commercial space for taverns as social centres in general.

262 everyday street life must remain somewhat impressionistic for this period. There is only really enough detail for 4th–5th c. Antioch, extending on occasion to Rome, Carthage, Constantinople, Athens, and Nicomedia in the same period, with 6th c. Emesa (Homs) bringing in exceptional detail from a single source. From these references, we can find some generic activities familiar from medieval and modern contexts. There were also some socio-literary stereotypes, prejudices of those who did not have to live in the street thanks to the comfort of their large houses. At the same time, there are cultural particularities which appear in the descriptions we have, not specific to Late Antiquity, but characteristic of the Roman Empire. One of these is the existence of a daily round of ritualised morning visits, market appearances, bathing, and evening dining, all familiar from Early Imperial Rome. This routine was modified to include the church perhaps partly at the expense of the agora, by the 5th c., but sources become so thin for the 6th c., that we cannot be sure either if the salutatio entirely died or if processions to the agora continued outside of Constantinople. We can, however, be certain that processions continued to churches and baths. A second particularity is that the streets appear to have been considered relatively safe environments, as far as violent crime was concerned, unlike trips through the countryside, where robbers feature in the literary imagination of the period. A third particularity is the presence of inscribed religious signs and graffiti, which is a trait distinctive to Late Antiquity. These scribblings do not entirely replace the lewd ditties familiar from Pompeii, but do seem to supplant them in the streets of eastern cities, in their frequency. This was religious graffiti which coexisted with that relating to circus games but was not necessarily loud and alienating to those of other confessions. Its prominence does indicate a slight change of tone which is worth remarking on.156 156  Robbers on roads in the countryside: Cyprian, Ep. 66; August. En. in Ps. 15; Enchiridion de fide spe et caritate 17, 19 (in Africa); Choricius, Or. 3.35 (to Dux Aratius and Archon Stephanus,

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Only the last of these distinctive traits can be claimed as particular to Late Antiquity. One is somewhat hamstrung in explaining it, by the suspicion that earlier slogans and ditties have survived less well than those cut into stone in the 6th c., when, for whatever reason, this was permitted. We are left with the relatively obvious explanation: that awareness of religious ideas, if not always great understanding, was deeply set into popular consciousness during Late Antiquity and was visible in the street. The persistence of the daily round is a sign that underlying social structures survived throughout the period, despite changes in the roles of specific urban spaces. The relative safety of urban streets is difficult to account for: Chrysostom thanked the night watchmen, but it is also possible that the continued residence of the elite within city centres made some difference, being connected to artisans by networks of patronage. In modern French cities, the presence of powerful people resident in the centre, rather than living in the suburbs, who can pull levers to ensure that problems are dealt with, plays a significant role in keeping order. In the late antique city, stability would have been maintained by property ownership, patronage, and street display. Patrons might even have been able to close the gates to ʻtheir quarterʼ in a few cities, as they seem to have done at Ostia, though evidence is slight elsewhere. This network of social control seems only to have been seriously threatened by the presence of soldiers, who had the greatest scope for evading the law. I may speak from ignorance, but I do not think that we have evidence for factions acting in a generically criminal way outside of ritualised confrontations, except in the capital, where the stakes were highest, and the great social distances of a large city prevailed.

between Gaza and Caesarea); see also Lib. Or.1.29 (Macedonia); 24.25–26.

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Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD Introduction For a thousand years prior to the accession of Diocletian, the ancient civic square—the forum or agora—had been the heart of urban life, serving as the principal focus for political, social, and much religious activity. In new cities, up to and including the colonies of the Early Empire, fora or agorai were often set at a central point in the street grid and developed into the most elaborate area of a town.1 By the 6th c. the forum / agora no longer enjoyed this position, with pride of place in urban architecture having been taken by churches. This process, and especially the decline of the civic square, has excited much archaeological interest, most notably through the model excavations of B. Ward-Perkins at Luni, in Italy, and T. Potter at Iol Caesarea (Cherchel), in Algeria. The latter project encouraged Potter to produce a short but inspiring book, Towns in Late Antiquity, which included a stimulating synthesis on the state of fora / agorai during this period. The study was largely based on archaeological and epigraphic evidence from two regions: Africa and Italy. It was primarily designed to provide a context for the interpretation of Iol Caesarea, although in the absence of other research, it has become the standard work on fora / agorai in Late Antiquity, something which its author probably never intended.2 Potter’s study was fairly negative about the history of civic squares in Late Antiquity, paying much attention to evidence for abandonment and decay; he envisaged fora going out of use in the 4th c., if not earlier. However, only part of the abandonment evidence presented by Potter is well-dated, and, in his book, this sits alongside plentiful evidence for repair. Indeed, his own careful excavations of the forum of Iol Caesarea revealed an early 5th c. restoration, followed by continued occupation; the square did not in fact cease to be an open plaza until the mid 6th c. Of course, there is much evidence for the abandonment and decay of public squares in the later 1  Studies of fora / agorai Hellenistic to Roman period (Ph.D. theses): Dickenson (2012) and (2017); Trifilò (2009); Newsome (2010), plus articles of Trifilò (2008); (2011a); (2011b) and Newsome (2011). In Late Antiquity: Claude (1969) 63–68; Bauer (1996) and (1997); Hoepfner (2003); Lavan (2006c) on which this chapter is based; Saradi (2006) 211–52; Messerchmidt (2010), which focused mainly on political representation, appeared after my main research for this chapter was undertaken, and provides a parallel discussion of some of the same themes. 2  Ward-Perkins (1981); Potter (1995); final report Benseddik and Potter (1993).

Roman period: in Gaul it is usually dated to the 3rd c., in Britain to the 4th c., and in Hispania, Italy, and Africa to various times between the 4th and the 6th c. But there is also substantially more evidence for new building and repair than Potter estimated. Whilst much of this comes from the East, a significant amount also derives from Hispania, Italy, and Britain. It is substantial enough to show that in most regions the forum / agora did not disappear in the 4th and 5th c.; rather, the civic plaza continued to be an important urban element, with its definitive eclipse coming somewhat later than thought, in the 6th and 7th c.3 The Sources We cannot easily divide a discussion of sources into those for architecture and those for everyday function. There is plenty of evidence for architectural development from all regions except Egypt. Here, this is the result of a lack of excavation. In contrast, literary attestations of activity in plazas are known from this region. Good architectural survival is, as usual, Mediterranean, as is the spread of epigraphy, with concentrations in Africa, Italy, Asia Minor, and Greece, and a cultural absence in the Near East. This makes up for the lack of well-dated archaeology, which is confined to a few sites in all these regions, and is complemented by a large number of sites in western Europe. However, the interpretation of fora / agorai has not so much been bedevilled by problems of evidential formation, but rather by problems over evidential interpretation. Physical remains of architecture constitute incontestable evidence of building. But the significance of architecture and texts as sources for the everyday function of fora / agorai has been disputed, in both general and specific terms, so it is worth considering the subject here. Some would suspect that building work on new and repaired late antique fora / agorai is largely ‘rhetorical’, a reflection of ideology, the work of political conservatives pointing back to an imaginary past as a model for the future, especially for projects recorded by literary

3  For example, Roueché (1989a) was not mentioned by Potter, though it contains plentiful evidence for the repair and use of three agorai in the city, deep into the 6th c.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004423824_006

264 texts.4 This might be true for grandiose building works sponsored by emperors but it does not suit the simple functionality of the rectilinear agorai of Aphrodisias and Scythopolis, which are examined in this chapter. Furthermore, the rebuilding of tetragonal agorai, which are essentially 4 porticoes of shops, hardly passes for monumental. Neither do mundane repairs to porticoes or shops relate to a desire to impress. Rather, they seem to be the record of wear and tear through daily use, especially when minor repairs respect the original complex plan of specialised public buildings, such as bouleuteria. Of course, any civic building programme might have an element of conservative ideology behind it; but it is important to realise that almost all civic building work in the 4th to mid-5th c. was now funded not by private benefactors seeking to buy political influence, but through the reduced civic finances of hard-pressed city councils. Although we find governors named as builders for the new fora of Scythopolis and Aphrodisias, it is now clear that this is an epigraphic technicality: inscriptions from Greece and Africa, or Egyptian papyri all show that governors financed their work using what remained of civic revenues, acting through the councils, who might be far from keen. Examples of governors spending their private money are rare and usually involve insubstantial projects. Whilst they wished to preserve good relations with their subjects, to avoid later prosecution, they were not in the business of making expensive gestures to win support, as in Hellenistic or Early Imperial times. This, and the poverty of civic coffers, means that when no external benefactions were involved, secular public building came much closer to the functional than it had earlier.5 Textual sources for the everyday function of agorai have received even less attention than archaeology, despite the fact that a vast number of anecdotes preserved in secular and religious writings often recall specific events in fora and agorai. One has to guard against literary devices and topoi, but even rhetorical texts, such as sermons and orations, can include valuable details, often incidental to the main purpose of the work, which describe specific behaviours or actual events. In fact, only a few rhetorical texts involve panegyrics of a traditional view of city life. Many of Libanius’ orations describe his everyday frustrations and experiences of urban existence, rather than any idealised view. Chrysostom’s sermons record bitingly detailed descriptions of contemporary behaviour, and a deep understanding of the motivations behind it. This most observant of preachers 4  Building work on civic squares as representing conservative ideology: Bowden (2007) esp. 139. 5  Governors, epigraphy and the nature of public building and its finances: discussed in my thesis: Lavan (2001a).

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sought to engage with his flock through familiar images; he even went so far as to record the dissenting remarks of his congregation. Even within urban or imperial panegyric, such as Libanius’ Antiochos or Procopius’ De aedificiis, there are snippets of information about everyday life that can often be used. So, it is better to decide the veracity of a textual passage on a case by case basis rather than to exclude evidence by adopting a doctrinal approach to the veracity of ʻrhetoricʼ. A more pressing concern is to watch for nuances of language: ‘forum’ can mean a law court. I also suspect that generic references to events occurring ‘in the agora’ may simply mean ‘in public’. As such, it is extremely important to evaluate the precise contextual sense in which such terms are being employed. Literary sources used in this chapter have been selected as being likely to refer to real events or typical behaviour taking place in public squares. Ambiguous cases are signalled in the footnotes. I have described my methodology for doing this in an article on the use of the term by John Chrysostom: suffice to say one should distinguish between generic mentions of ‘in the agora’, and those where the plaza is mentioned within a catalogue of other, contrasting, urban spaces, and those where it appears as a definite architectural place in which a specific event occurs. Overall, the problems of studying fora / agorai are less than say studying a more novel space, such as a praetorium, which a traditional writer like Libanius might either deliberately ignore, or obscure beneath a heap of alternative Greek terms, to avoid using a word of Latin origin.6 I am not very interested in maintaining a clear distinction between fora and agorai in architectural terms. Their origin is distinct, with Greek agorai originally being a lot larger and less tightly-enclosed architecturally than fora. However, by the 4th c., there were a range of sizes of both agorai and fora that meant that these distinctions are not so useful, and it is fair to use the terms as both meaning ‘public square’ without much soul-searching, in the way that late antique authors do. Similarly, I do not think it is worth maintaining a terminological difference between stoa and portico on agorai, for the purposes of this study, except when discussing stoa structures built in a distinctive closed form in Greek cities, prior to 6  Forum as law court: Isid. Etym. 28.15; Amm. Marc. 30.4.8; Cassiod. Var. 3.52, 8.31, 9.21. ‘In the agora’ meaning ‘in public’: Procop. Anec. 17.41–45 (definitely), and 29.30 (possibly). One could also note that, according to Haas (1997) 31, 368 n. 29 and 461–62 n. 12, references to οἱ ἀγοραῖοι (those of the agora) can mean ‘the multitude’ in Late Antiquity. Libanius also refers to the agora as a market, but in a commercial rather than spatially-bounded sense, when describing how commercial activity in Antioch differs from other cites: Lib. Or. 11.251. There are other words to describe simply a ‘market’, and Libanius’ use is frequently demonstrably in the sense of ‘public square’. Methodology for distinguishing between different senses of the words ‘forum / agora’, see Lavan (2007a).

Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD

this period. Again, whilst their origins were different, the reality was that each term translated into the other in Greek and Latin texts in Late Antiquity. The distinction in form was lost, except when an older Greek building was being rebuilt retaining a distinctive plan. One might argue that a portico with closed lateral sides was always a stoa, but I am not convinced that their function was now any different. Therefore, I have generally preferred to use portico to describe a covered colonnade in both East and West, unless structures are obviously distinct, in the tradition of Greek stoas. When a specific building is mentioned, stoa can creep in as a proper name, especially when translating from German. The geographical spread of the sources is not even. Textual evidence is concentrated in the central and eastern Mediterranean. Furthermore, anecdotes usually refer to bigger cities. Archaeological evidence is also patchy, with preservation best in Africa and the East, although excavations are of a higher quality in the West. However, regional variation in the nature of the evidence does not render generalisation inappropriate. From the archaeological and textual evidence we have, it appears there was something of a cultural koinè of urban life in the central and eastern Mediterranean during Late Antiquity, comprising Africa, central-southern Italy, Greece, Asia Minor, the Levant, and Egypt, with some outlying communities in Hispania and southern Gaul, along with the Rhineland and Britain for the 4th c. Thus, I feel justified in offering a synthetic overview of the function of fora / agorai for these areas. Whilst local variation is of great interest, it is important to point out that no coherent account of the function of fora / agorai can emerge at the level of one site or one region. The data are simply too fragmentary to permit such an empirical, bottom-up study to be meaningful: I cannot produce a study of ‘Levantine agorai’ based on three cases, despite the instincts of many of my colleagues, who seem to think that ‘regional specialist’ is the only valid level of competence one can aspire to. Rather, a broader study is needed, to weigh the value of the evidence from a greater distance, and produce a more general multiregional model, which can then be adapted to local contexts. I have combined this approach with case studies of individual sites where evidence is unusually rich: via fieldwork at Ostia and Sagalassos, via the study of literary sources at Antioch and Constantinople, which I have published elsewhere.7 One final methodological point should be made. As archaeologists dig ever more holes and begin to conduct geophysical surveys, it is becoming abundantly clear 7  Case studies of fora /agorai, at Ostia: Lavan (2012a); Sagalassos: (2013a); Antioch / Constantinople: Lavan (2007a).

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that many cities have more than one public square. Many have at least two (such as Taracco, Philippi, Thessalonica, Athens), some have three (Xanthos), and at least one has five (Corduba).8 Some squares appear to privilege commercial structures and others political buildings, but it is far from clear that purely political or commercial fora / agorai existed. The more we excavate and collect epigraphic fragments and statue bases, the more it looks like functions crossed over. This seems true even for round plazas: Constantine’s forum proves that a major civic plaza could be round and still have political functions, whereas Gerasa’s round plaza hosts solid commercial structures, whilst also serving the needs of imperial display. Thus, I have opted to present a general model of the range of functions of fora / agorai in Late Antiquity. This must be adapted when one suspects one has a specialised agora, such as one with mainly political or mainly commercial buildings. But a broad approach does permit me to consider small rather irregular squares, such as that inside the south gate of Perge, which sometimes have shops and fountains, and which may well have been called agorai. Nevertheless, most of the fora / agorai that appear in my narrative were the principal public plazas of their cities, surrounded by specialised political and religious structures. Architecture New Building During the 4th and 5th c., new fora / agorai were still being built in both imperial capitals and in provincial cities, widely spread across the empire (fig. E2) (Map 11). In the West, 9 examples are known from 6 sites. In the East, 11 examples are known from 5 sites, not counting 3 or more round plazas built at 3 sites. In Britain, Caistor saw its forum entirely rebuilt [260–85], after demolition in the 3rd c. In Italy, Albenga was given a forum as part of the (re)establishment of a walled city [415–21 inscr.] Naples was given one by Constantine according to the Liber Pontificalis [314–25]. At Rome, a forum was built in 374 to honour Valentinian, Valens, and Gratian, by an urban prefect, probably from a pre-existing space on the Palatine [373–74 inscr.].9 Three ‘private fora’ (i.e. fora named after senatorial families) were also created in the western capital: the Forum Aproniani [339–64 text], the Forum of Petronius Maximus [443–45 inscr.], and the Forum of Sibidius [438 inscr.].10 In Africa, Carthage 8   For Corduba references see Fishwick (2000) 96 n. 1. 9  New fora / agorai, the West: see appendix K1a. 10  Private fora: Bauer (1997); Messerschmidt (2010) 29–30, plus see appendix K1a.

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Forum of Constantine, reconstruction

Forum of Theodosius (first phase)

Lower Mese

Upper Mese

Phase 2 Portico

Mese sewers Sidewalk of Lower Mese

Basilica Courtyard

0

figure e1

100m

Extant late antique plazas of Constantinople: Forum of Theodosius and Basilica Courtyard

had a plaza known as the ‘platea nova’ in ca. 477, which was possibly built in the later 3rd to earlier 5th c. [284–426 text], whilst the city of Mustis had a new forum transitorium dedicated in 351.11 Two other new rectangular plazas of later 3rd–4th c. date are known in the West, from St. Bertrand de Comminges and Ostia, 11  P latea normally means a street: Spanu (2002) esp. 351 n. 20. But platea as forum is a possible sense at Thubursicu Numidarum in the mid 4th c., where there was a platea vetus and forum novum in the 4th c. The inscription recording the restoration of the platea was found at the side of a plaza. See Kleinwächter (2002) 45 and see appendix K2a. On Carthage, see Victor Vit. 2.13: this ‘platea nova’ may be the platea maritima of August. de civ. D. 16.8, Retract. 2.58, which Procopius identifies as an agora: Procop. Aed. 6.5.10.

but these are best discussed under market buildings, not fora.12 Furthermore, Ostia also produced two further small plazas of 4th c. date, one small and rectangular, of ca. 20 m by 19 m, and one large and triangular, of ca. 22 m by 70 m (both including the Decumanus width). However, these are discussed under the chapter on streets and can be seen as a reaction to the historically small forum of the city, resulting from the limitations of its Republican colonial plan.13

12  Plazas as market buildings (St. Bertrand and Ostia): see appendix W1. 13  Ostia, way stations and other plaza of the Decumanus: see appendix D2.

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Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD Scythopolis

Aphrodisias

Tripolis ad Meandrum Ostia, Foro della statua eroica St Bertrand de Comminges

0

figure e2

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Rectangular plazas built in Late Antiquity, outside Constantinople: Aphrodisias, Scythopolis, St Bertrand de Comminges, Ostia (Foro della statua eroica), Tripolis ad Meandrum

At Constantinople, fora were constructed to honour Constantine [324–330 text], Theodosius [394 text], Honorius [379–423 text], Arcadius [421 text], Marcian [450–52 text], and Leo [471 text] (fig. E1). In Asia Minor, at Tripolis ad Meandrum, a rectangular plaza was constructed with one portico and two flights of stairs [300–400], whilst at Aphrodisias, a new four-porticoed square (the ‘Tetrastoon’) was built by the theatre [ca. 363 inscr.] (fig. E3a). In the Levant, at Antioch, a new forum was created through imperial patronage for Valens, in the centre of the city, during his prolonged period of residence [371–78 text, but now excavated], and another was built by the comes orientis Proclus [383–84]. Scythopolis saw the construction of a new trapezoidal agora sometime in the 5th c. [400–535]. Another rectangular / slightly trapezoidal plaza at Bostra lies just outside the limits of this chapter, coming in the very late 5th or early 6th c. [487.5–512.5, not included in the totals].14 Additionally, a number of small circular plazas are known for this period, from the Levant, at Palmyra, Gerasa, and Bostra, as mentioned already in the chapter on streets.15 It is possible that these round plazas can be identified with constructions 14  New fora / agorai, the East: see appendix K1a. 15  Round plazas: see appendix K1b.

named in the sources as antiphoroi such the antiphoros constructed at Daphne outside Antioch, with a bronze statue to the senator Mamianus, under Zeno (474–91), or that restored at Edessa by Justinian, after a flood in 520, which was illuminated during festivals. Another existed at Constantinople, close to the Chalkoprateia, although we do not know its architectural form or the date of its construction. It was perhaps part of the Forum of Constantine.16 16  Antiphoros: at Antioch (Daphne) built by Antiochene senator Mamianus under Zeno (474–91): see Evagr. Hist. eccl. 3.28; at Edessa mentioned by Josh. Styl. 27 (AD 495/96), restored by Justinian after flood of 520 in Procop. Aed. 2.7.6; at Cple: De Ceremoniis 1.30 (between Forum of Constantine and Palace of Lausus); Life of Andrew the Fool 7 (vol. 2 p. 36 of Ryden (1995) edn.). (thermopolium on antiphoros). On these references, see Mango (2005) who establishes on p. 320 that the feature is on the east side of the Forum of Constantine. On pp. 320–21 he identifies a reference in a life written prior to the 10th c. which describes a ‘hemicycle of the antiphoros of Constantine’. By combining various pieces of circumstantial evidence, he takes this hemicycle as being identical to the macellum of the Forum of Constantine where Arius died. Whilst we can accept the location and must admit that the antiphoros was a hemicycle, or is contained within one, the proximity of the Forum of Constantine is problematic. We cannot be sure that the Forum itself is not meant, and that the antiphoros does not describe the whole circular portico within the forum. The accepted

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figure e3a

The tetrastoon at Aphrodisias, a new plaza of the later 4th c.

The chronological spread of new fora / agorai is concentrated in the 4th c. although it lasts into the 5th c. at Rome and elsewhere in Italy. At Albenga in Liguria, the inscription proclaims that the magister militum Constantius (later briefly emperor Constantius III) provided a forum amongst the internal features of the city which he rewalled: ‘habitations, a forum, harbours, commerce, and gates’ [415–21]. Here, temples were no longer important, but a civic square still was, and obtained a prominent place in this catalogue description of the restored city. Building work on eastern agorai also continues into the 5th c., at Constantinople and in the Levant. At Antioch, Libanius presents the building of public squares as a normal part of the range of building activity of the comes orientis Proclus, who in 383–84 built streets, baths, colonnades, and agorai, as well as enlarging a wrestling name for a hemicycle in this period was a ‘sigma’, but this second term is not used by any source for a toponym in this immediate locality. Thus, I persist in thinking that the 10th c. antiphoros could refer to the circular plaza of Constantine itself, or at least an element of it. Due to uncertainties over the form of the antiphoros, I have not included these sites as plazas within my appendices.

arena. Yet even here, the second half of the 5th c. sees a cessation of activity. The regional distribution of new rectangular plazas is interesting. They are absent from Greece but a concentration of works exists in the Levant, where all 4th–5th c. round plazas are also found, outside of the eastern capital. This is noteworthy, as the region shows a strong preference for few other types of secular monument in Late Antiquity. Perhaps this was due to there being not enough plazas in the Levant, where they were never as well established as in Greece, and where there seems to have been no desire to have more, even if there was much repair, as we will see shortly. It is interesting to note that John Chrysostom, preaching in Antioch / Constantinople at the end of the 4th c., actually complains about there being too much new building work on agorai, and not enough on churches. Whilst this might seem surprising, it could in fact reflect his experience as a resident of both cites at this time, as each had seen new fora constructed. His comments on the city of Kokousos, where he was exiled, are also revealing; his detachment from the cares of this life is such that Kokousos suits him: the ‘town has neither market nor market-place, though that is nothing to me.’

Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD

figure e3b

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East Propylon of the Roman Agora, Athens, containing repairs in visible reused material, as in the paving and steps of the central passage

As elsewhere in his preaching we are left with a strong impression of the centrality of the agora. One might say that in Chrysostom’s cultural world, the agora was as important in defining a city as it was for Pausanias two hundred years earlier. This is the implication of his remark on Kokousos. This sentiment finds a precursor in another eastern text, an imperial constitution of 324–26 recording the successful request of Orkistos in Phrygia to acquire urban status; the city had argued as a central plank of its case that it had a functioning and full civic plaza, decorated with seats and statues of emperors past. Of other monuments mentioned in this urban advertisement to the imperial court, only baths and watermills were deemed worthy of consideration.17 The architectural character of these Late Roman squares was partly determined by whether they were planned entirely anew or tailored to fit within preexisting urban structures. At Antioch, the Forum of Valens seems to have been created through the reworking of a pre-existing space, as does that of Theodosius 17  Chrysostom and evergetism of agorai: Hom. in Act. 18.4 (PG 60.147). Kokousos: Ep. 14 (9.1.a in Malingrey Olympias). For Paus. 10.4.1, the city of Panopeus is hardly a city because it has ‘no state buildings, no training ground, no theatre, and no market square, and no running water.’ Orkistos: Chastagnol (1981) 386, 406–407.

in the capital. At Aphrodisias and Scythopolis, the construction of the new plazas also involved the refurbishment of existing open areas: a possible porticus post-scaenam and an earlier agora or sacred area, respectively. The odd form of the plaza of Tripolis ad Meandrum, with its broad staircases in place of porticoes, also suggests an adaptation.18 Probably because of the limitations imposed by adapting pre-existing urban spaces, all of these fora were quadrilateral in shape. However, the entirely new Forum of Constantine at Constantinople was round, as were the small new plazas at Gerasa [293–305], Bostra [287.5–312.5], and Palmyra [259–328], of which Bostra was more of a squashed circle and Palmyra somewhat oval. The predominance of these shapes for entirely new-built plazas perhaps identifies the round form as the design of choice in this age. It was revolutionary of Constantine to use this shape in the planning of a major forum, only previously seen in 18  Antioch, Forum of Valens: Malalas 13.30, Downey (1961) 632–40. Constantinople, Forum of Theodosius: nymphaeum built under Valens in Socrates, Hist. eccl. 4.8, said to be on the site of the later Forum of Theodosius. It has been identified with an exedra by the Arch of Theodosius by Berger (1996) 22. Aphrodisias, Tetrastoon: for earlier space, of which an altar survived in situ: see Roueché (1989a) nn. 20–21 with comments. Tripolis: appendix K1a.

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Carthage, where the plaza of the circular harbour was left open, surrounded by a colonnade. A round plaza proposed at Antioch is problematic and should be discounted; its form and date being uncertain. Sizes varied. In the West, the rectangular forum at Caistor measured ca. 37.8 m by ca. 49 m, whilst a planned tetrarchic reduction of the Forum Romanum [303] envisaged a plaza of ca. 33 m north-south by ca. 43.5 m east-west, set between the surviving rostra and an intended rostra, eventually built further back. In the East, at Constantinople, Constantine’s round forum was the largest, measuring at least 81 m in diameter, more likely ca. 166 m. The Forum of Theodosius measured ca. 76 m by 85.25 m, as by extension did that of Arcadius, which seems to have been identical. The Augusteion, as rebuilt under Theodosius II, seems to have been ca. 69–71.5 m by ca. 78–82 m, dimensions followed under Justinian. At Tripolis ad Meandrum, the new square measured 44.5 m by 57.10 m, that at Aphrodisias ca. 41–51 m by 41–53 m. New agorai of the Near East were larger: that at Antioch measured 90 m by 106 m, and that at Scythopolis ca. 51–53 m by 103–132 m (provisional measurements), in each case measuring from portico back wall to back wall.19 We can note here that the Forum of Theodosius 19  All dimensions include porticoes, are measured from the back wall of the portico. Dimensions of Aphrodisias, Antioch, Scythopolis, Gerasa, Palmyra, and Bostra, are based on excavation. Width of Constantine’s forum is based on the distance between column of Constantine at centre and supposed gate of pre-Constantinian wall, which gives a maximum diameter, whereas the minimum distance is based on the known paving drawn on a plan by Mamboury: Bardill (1997) 67–95. Width of Theodosian Forum depends on Berger’s identification of the plaza with a square west of the Theodosian Arch; this is reasonable considering the topography of the area and the presence of a possible nymphaeum known to have existed

figure e3c Propylon 1 of the North Agora, Laodicea, built 284–305, according to the excavators

is notably bigger than that planned under Diocletian for Rome, set within the Forum Romanum, even if porticoes are excluded. Theodosiusʼ forum was the only new plaza west of Antioch to exhibit the large dimensions of new fora / agorai in the Near East, which are much bigger than those elsewhere. Of round plazas of the 4th– 5th c., all of which come from the Levant, that of Gerasa had a diameter of ca. 43.6 m, Bostra of ca. 36.5 m, and Palmyra of ca. 45.9 m to 48 m. That excavated at Antioch had a diameter (reconstructed) of only ca. 18.5 m from the kerb of the plaza, or ca. 37 m from the entirely hypothetical portico back wall. None of these new fora included temples, as originally planned. Neither did they include churches, even at the end of the period. At Constantinople, some political buildings were still present, such as the Senate House on the Forum of Constantine, or the basilica on the Forum of Theodosius. Elsewhere, the design was stark and simple: an empty plaza bordered by porticoes. Some portico back walls were blank, as at the Forum of Theodosius, at Tripolis ad Meandrum, and at Aphrodisias. Others did give access to commercial spaces. The porticoes of the round plaza at Gerasa were encircled by cellular rooms, likely shops of 3 units per quadrant, making 12 in total. An identical arrangement existed on the round plaza at Bostra, as far as can be seen from the part which has been excavated. Palmyra also had shops, of which 8 have been excavated, from two sides of the plaza. At Scythopolis, approximately 25 shops could be found along one side in the forum, mentioned by Socrates, Hist. eccl. 4.8: Berger (1996) 18–19, excavation in Naumann (1976). The forum on the Admiralty Island at Carthage provides an Early Imperial antecedent of around the same dimensions as that of Constantine; yet this plaza was round because the island was round, since the time of Hannibal.

Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD

of the trapezoidal agora. At Aphrodisias, the Tetrastoon had none, but was provided with an enclosed shopping area by the conversion of part of the adjacent baths into a kind of ‘shopping mall’. The wall between this hall and the new square was pierced with a doorway, so giving access. Aphrodisias and Scythopolis both had four porticoes, as did the Forum of Valens. Caistor had at least three, whereas Tripolis ad Meandrum had only one, with long staircases for raised platforms on two other sides of the same plaza. Porticoes were also present in the fora of Arcadius, Theodosius and Constantine, the latter being two storeys in height. The Forum of Theodosius had broad double-aisled porticoes. So too did the Forum of Valens, based on the excavated portico widths, explaining why Malalas described the plaza as being surrounded by ‘basilicas’. As we will see, double-aisled porticoes were also retained and decorated on restored fora at Rome (of Caesar), at Thessalonica, and at Orthosia in Caria. The fora of Theodosius and Constantine both possessed nymphaea, and monumental arches, serving as entrances. The latter feature was shared by the Boos plaza in the west of the city, as discussed in the chapter on streets. The Forum of Valens at Antioch, as recently excavated, had a brick arch facing onto the street, which was presumably a major entrance. All imperial fora at Constantinople were decorated with honorific columns of emperors, including the city’s ‘Augusteion’, as was the Forum of Valens.20 The same plazas all also displayed other imperial statues.21 The round plazas known from Gerasa and Bostra were decorated with glamorous tetrakionia, likely carrying imperial images, as discussed in the chapter on street architecture. Whilst similarities can be observed in the design and function of both rectangular and round plazas, it is also useful to review their differences. In architectural terms, round plazas seem to have been very well-conceived, designed to resolve major junctions or crossroads and to provide settings for statue groups or tetrakionia. Gerasa and Bostra both lacked porticoes but had instead decorative shop façades which incorporated engaged columns, recalling the architectural effect of porticoes, but being closer to an experience of the column screens of nymphaea. At Gerasa, these columns were set on high octagonal plinths, and seem to have had Corinthian capitals. They represent an expensive investment in sophisticated architecture to give the impression of a portico where space did not permit it. The accompanying sidewalk, at both Gerasa (ca. 1.5 m wide) and Bostra (ca. 20  H  onorific columns: see appendix F9. 21  I mperial statues: for Constantinopolitan plazas see appendices K1a, K2b, and F7a (for the Amastrianon).

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1.2 m wide, ca. 0.4 m in places) was perhaps designed to compensate. A portico was, however, used on the oval plaza at Palmyra, perhaps because there was a need to unify existing building frontages. It is possible that arches were used at Gerasa to cover the 4 junctions, as they were at Justiniana Prima, on a round plaza of the mid-6th c., considered in the next chapter. However, the Gerasa ‘arch’ remains are limited to small bases, preserved on the north junction only, hypothesised for the south side, measuring ca. 1.25 m by 1.25 m, which might relate better to equestrian statues.22 Rectangular fora vary rather more in their design and architecture. Only the Forum of Theodosius seems to have been truly rectangular (and by extension that of Arcadius). Those of Aphrodisias and Scythopolis had unequal corner angles. Both of the latter plazas had to cope with inherited boundaries, which the setting of porticoes might try to disguise, as at Aphrodisias, to produce a more regular shape for the plaza itself. The Forum of Theodosius was the oddest, with a huge conch nymphaeum, inherited from a pre-forum phase. This was set behind a portico in the new forum, to make a rectangular plaza, greatly reducing the impact that the fountain had on the space, unless the blocking portico was only introduced in phase 2. The entrances to rectangular fora were monumentalised at Constantinople, with two arches of Proconessian marble acting as gates for the forum of Constantine and that of ‘Theodosius’, the latter having a triple portal. Two arches also existed on ‘The Ox’. The agora of Scythopolis is the only new square to have had dependent shops as part of its design, although the Tetrastoon of Aphrodisias opened into a covered ‘shopping mall’. There are also architectural elements in common, for both round and rectangular plazas: notably the porticoes and the paving. The width of porticoes depended on whether they had one aisle or two. The fora of Theodosius at Constantinople (ca. 13.7 m, ca. 11.25 m) and of Valens at Antioch (ca. 13 m, ca. 13 m, ca. 18 m, and ca. 18 m) have exceptionally wide porticoes, on account of their doubleaisles. Single porticoes range in width from Caistor (ca. 4–4.6 m), Tripolis (5.8 m), and Scythopolis (ca. 4 m, 4 m, 6 m, 4–6 m). This last figure has a 2 m variation along its length because it seeks to deal with the inherited walls on the site. The same factors explain the variations seen at Aphrodisias (ca. 4.7–5.2 m, ca. 4 m, ca. 4.7 m, ca. 2.5–13.5 m), where the last portico exhibits a width variation of ca. 11 m. The round plaza of Palmyra experienced the same site restrictions but managed to tidy up an irregular plot by adopting porticoes of varied sizes 22  Round plazas: see appendix K1b. The Gerasa arch base measurements include bottom mouldings.

272 but consistent widths: ca. 6.2 m, ca. 7 m, and ca. 8.4 m (on the south-west side). There is no obvious regional pattern here, other than to recognise that new fora built in imperial capitals could have double porticoes. Colonnade details can be difficult to reconstruct, as they are not often well-preserved. From Constantinople, we have little more than columns, although these are exceptionally high. The tree-trunk columns of Proconnesian marble found reused within the Basilica Cistern may come from the Forum of Theodosius, if not from the Mese. They measure ca. 7 m high and about 1 m wide, whereas those from the adjacent Arch of Theodosius itself are reconstructed as ca. 11.5 m in height and 1.7 m wide and are more finely cut. The Forum of Arcadius may have had porticoes of granite columns, based on a group seen by Cyril Mango, close to this spot. At the presumed site of the Forum of Leo, set within the old city of Byzantium, columns (probably ca. 3 m long) were recovered with capitals (0.6 m high) and impost blocks. At the Boos plaza, white marble columns may have been employed, although we know little of their size. Outside of the capital we have a lot more detail. The Tetrastoon of Aphrodisias made use of different types of reused pedestals in its colonnade, which was supported by a stylobate of reused blocks. The west portico had pedestal bases supporting blue marble columns ca. 3.22 m long and Corinthian capitals ca. 0.46 m. The east portico had column bases supporting brown-grey marble columns (ca. 3.4 m) and Corinthian capitals. The portico of Tripolis ad Meandrum was of white marble columns of two pieces, set on Attic-Ionic bases, with capitals of an unusual plain type, also seen at Aphrodisias on the north-south colonnaded street by the tetrapylon. At Antioch, the Forum of Valens used columns from Salona, according to Malalas. Excavations here have revealed monolithic column shafts set on column bases integrated with pedestals; both elements are of marble. At neither Tripolis nor Antioch are we able to be sure that the columns are reused. They may be new-cut. The total colonnade height of porticoes can be calculated in a few cases. The colonnade height at Tripolis is 3.90 m to 4.15 m. At Aphrodisias, the colonnade height of the west portico seems to measure ca. 4.5 m, whereas that of the east portico seems to be ca. 4.14 m. We can glean some further details from individual sites in a less systematic way. The portico intercolumniation was irregular, although not obviously so, both in the Theodosian Forum of Constantinople and the Tetrastoon of Aphrodisias. Arcading is suggested for the Forum of Leo by the impost blocks found at the presumed site, whilst at Tripolis, fallen brick arcades have survived. Elsewhere, wooden architraves seem likely, due to an absence of stone elements surviving on

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well-preserved sites. The drawing we have of the Forum of Constantine, from the Column of Arcadius sketches, notably suggests flat architraves, in contrast to arcading depicted along the Mese, on the same sketch. The portico roof at Tripolis was of tiles. The ceilings at Antioch are described by Malalas: ‘The ceilings were coffered, and ornamented with paintings, a variety of marbles and mosaic work.’ Recent excavations here have revealed a wooden roof, which had been destroyed by fire, and glass mosaic and frescoes of red and yellow colours from the portico walls. Details of portico flooring are known from three sites. At Scythopolis, the agora had an extensive unified mosaic, featuring plants and animals (a lion, a zebra, and a gazelle are recorded). The Forum of Theodosius had marble slabs: they are rectangular and seem to be carefully cut with straight edges and laid in rows, like the paving of the plaza, although only one slab survives fully, of ca. 0.4 m by 1.5 m. At Tripolis, the plaza paving was a combination of rectangular stone slabs with sections of opus sectile, perhaps a prototype for late floors in this region which combined the two paving styles in a single floor. The paving of the open courtyard of the Forum of Constantine was in large white marble slabs, sorted into long straight rows of irregular width (slabs ca. 1–2 m long by 0.57–1.1 m wide. That of the Forum of Theodosius used the same material with slabs of identical width though different length, laid in parallel rows, almost mathematically set (slabs 1.6–3.05 m long by ca. 0.7–0.8 m wide). Both sets of paving seem to be newcut rather than reused, from their appearance on plans. The Forum of Leo in the same city and the Forum of Valens in Antioch were also both paved. The latter had new-cut rectangular marble slabs (parallel rows of variable size, slabs up to ca. 1.6 m by 1.6 m). The Tetrastoon paving at Aphrodisias was not reused, in contrast to the porticoes colonnades. Despite not being reused, it was laid in a rectilinear jigsaw fashion, normally typical of spolia, closely fitted, with new of 0.6–0.8 m by 0.8–1 m. In one case, the paving of a round plaza was exquisite: that at Bostra had a mathematical chequerboard paving, of slabs measuring ca. 0.4 m square. The paving at Gerasa was rather messier, generally of rows of irregular width, with some areas more like a jigsaw, suggesting reuse. Sizes of slabs varied between the largest, ca. 2.2 m by 0.8 m, and the smallest, ca. 0.25 m by 0.5 m. The oval plaza at Palmyra was never paved, likely being of gravel, like the rest of the main street of this city. It is surprising to see poorer quality surfaces being used in new projects from the Levant. As the case of Palmyra suggests, this is likely to be due to local circumstances and cultural preferences. Bostra has the finest paving anywhere, on its round plaza, but we still see reused slabs on a

Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD

new rectangular plaza of the late 5th–early 6th c. in the same city. The overall design of new fora / agorai of this period seems to represent the continuing development of established classical urban forms, but in a manner appropriate to the tastes and needs of the age. Round plazas seem to develop the taste of the 2nd and 3rd c. East, where there had been some architectural experimentation, with such shapes appearing at odd street junctions on major colonnaded avenues. The rectangular plazas seem to evoke either the tetragonal agorai of the East (in the case of Aphrodisias and Scythopolis) or the architecturally-simplified imperial fora of Rome and Lepcis Magna (in the case of the fora of Valens, Theodosius, and Constantine, or the Augusteion). A mixture of tradition and innovation is apparent in the decoration of the fora of Constantinople. Here, the column of Arcadius closely copies that of Trajan at Rome, whilst the Forum of Theodosius employs strange tree-trunk columns on its eastern gate, and perhaps on its colonnades. Porticoes from this forum or that of Constantine may have been decorated by massive Medusa heads (actually capitals to support arches), comparable to those from the Severan Forum of Lepcis Magna, although it cannot be proven, as the blocks were found out of context.23 In terms of the architectural prominence accorded to functions in new fora, it is perhaps commerce that was best served, by the space afforded to stalls or to cellular shops. In the new imperial fora, the display of imperial dignity was also very prominent, as it was in the Tetrarchic restoration of the Forum Romanum, and may have been in the round plazas with ‘imperial’ tetrakionia, if Thiel is right in his hypothesis. Major Restorations Major restorations of fora can be defined as contemporaneous work on two or more architectural elements. This is more widespread than examples of building anew: in the West, it is seen on 25 occasions at 15 sites, and, in the East, on 17 occasions at 10 sites. Restorations notably extend not only to Rome, Italy and Asia Minor, but also to Britain, Hispania, Gaul, Greece and especially to Africa. In Britain, substantial programmes of building work have been detected by archaeology at Exeter, just before the period [250–75*, excluded from the 23  Tree trunks, actually enormous clubs, with grasping hands: Naumann (1976), Bauer (1996) table 22.1–2. Medusa head: WardPerkins (2000) 72, fig. 5. Another was found reused near the Forum of Constantine: Mango (1990) 26 n. 17, but Parastaseis 44a has them in the Forum of Theodosius. This is credible as the spolia context which another Medusa head comes from, built into the Basilica Cistern, also contains a tree-trunk column. See appendix K1a.

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total, so marked*], and twice at Cirencester (Corinium) [287.5–389, 364–89]. In Hispania, it has been suggested that the last phase of the forum of Conimbriga should be set within our period [250–400], whilst excavation has revealed that the forum of Complutum (Alcalá de Henares) was completely restored, again just before our period [250–75*]. In Gaul, the forum at Amiens was restored twice, at the start of the study range [271–96, 297–362]. In Rome, the Forum of Caesar was repeatedly rebuilt or refurbished, at least 4 times [285–95, 306–12, 399–400, 491–93], as was the Forum Romanum, twice [285–303 text / inscr. / arch, 412–16 inscr.], whilst the Forum Esquilinum at Rome was restored in 450 [inscr.]. Nearby, Ostia’s Palaestra saw two phases of renewal, just before [250–75*, 250–75*], and just inside our date limits [287–5.312.5]. In southern Italy, extensive repairs are detected at Scolacium [250–300]. In Africa, inscriptions record many examples of restorations, from the late 3rd to late 4th c., at Lambaesis [364–67], Thubursicu Numidarum (twice) [326–33, 360–33], Mustis [293–94], Mustis [351, possibly 364–67], Abthugni [376–77], Mididi [293–94], and Thala [287–88, a platea]. It is reasonable to be sceptical of African inscriptions, as sometimes their claims seem to find little confirmation in surviving ruins. Archaeology testifies to major restorations to fora at Iol Caesarea [425–50] and at Sabratha [364–442], in the first case a patching-up of many structures, in the second case, a near-total rebuild.24 In the East, major restorations are known from several larger cities. In Greece, restorations are known at Thessalonica [320–425, after the imperial court had left], Delphi [ca. 350], Athens [on the Athenian and Roman agorai in 395–420 and 276–616], and at Corinth [364–75 inscr.]. At Constantinople, the Augusteion was rebuilt in 459 by the ‘consul’ Theodosius [may be Theodosius II, as consuls listed for 459 are Patricius and Ricimer], whilst the ‘Basilica’ courtyard was reconstructed by the sole consul Illus in 478, having earlier been adapted to take the great library of the city under Julian. The listing of the Strategion of the same city as the Forum Theodosiacum in the Notitia of 425 has led some to theorise a restoration under the dynasty of Theodosius I, prior to this time [390–425]. In Asia Minor, at Ephesus, the enormous tetragonal agora was nearly completely rebuilt [379–403]. An unprovenanced inscription from the same city, proclaiming ‘+Χ Μ Γ+ / φόρος θεοδοσιανός’ (‘+Christ from Mary born+ Forum of Theodosius’) is difficult to relate to this rebuilding campaign. The use of crosses places it in the time of Theodosius II. Conversely, 24  Restorations of western fora: see appendix K2a, with also three examples of work on plateae, which epigraphic evidence suggests may be fora.

274 the opening phrase, in the abbreviated form given here, is attested in the city from 405–410, as in other cities of Asia Minor. Thus, the use of the slogan does not have to be a result of the Council of Ephesus being held in this city in 431, under Theodosius II, when the title for Mary of Theotokos (‘God-bearer’) was accepted. Elsewhere in Asia Minor, agorai were restored at Laodicea ad Lycum [324–494, if claimed as Constantinian] and at Orthosia, Perge, and Side [all 250–614], whilst a marble base found out of context just beyond the city gate proclaims ‘The Forum of Arcadius, named after the ruler of the universe’, suggesting the restoration of an unknown plaza in 402–408. Finally, literary sources describe significant building work in the agora of Antioch under Constantine [330–37].25 There is little that is noteworthy about the regional variation of these works. They have been detected almost everywhere, except perhaps in the northern Balkans and Egypt: fora seem to have faded in the former region and we know little of agorai in the latter. The concentration of restorations in Africa, attested by inscriptions, does not stand up to scrutiny from archaeology. Rome and Constantinople seem to have the most, followed by Greece and western Asia Minor. Chronological variation is more interesting. There was clearly a burst of renewal in the West, just before and under the Tetrarchy, as cities sought to get ‘back to normal’. This is followed by a steady level of investment throughout the 4th c., particularly obvious in Greece. Then, in most of the West, large-scale renewal does not last beyond the 4th c., except in a few places: in Africa, the two examples of restoration confirmed by archaeology are earlier 5th c. In contrast, Rome produced three restorations from the same century [from 412–16, 450 and 491–93], whilst Constantinople saw three within an equivalent period [390–425, 459 and 478]. We can also detect some enthusiasm in the first decades of the 5th c. in western Asia Minor, in the two ‘fora’ inscriptions of the Theodosian dynasty. However, archaeologically-attested renovations at Side and Perge cannot be dated, leaving us with the feeling that large-scale renovation had (temporarily) halted in much of the East by the mid-5th c., as it had everywhere else, except at Rome and Constantinople. Where we have opportunities to glimpse the architectural choices made in these restorations, the tendency is conservative. At Exeter, which I have re-dated to 250– 75, the forum surface was raised and the portico was rebuilt; the curia and basilica buildings were retained, to be extended in subsequent years. At Complutum, also re-dated by myself to 250–75, a new building was introduced to the plaza as part of major works, in the 25  Restorations of eastern agorai: see appendix K2b.

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form of an audience chamber / curia, with two apses; however, in all the rest of the rebuilding, the same buildings were reproduced as existed earlier, in one form or another (basilica, portico, cellular shops, bath building, market). Just inside our period, in the late 3rd–4th c., the same conservative pattern is seen at a number of sites: at Rome, in the Tetrarchic Forum Romanum, the curia was rebuilt, basilica restored, rostra replaced, and an arch built; at Scolacium, the curia was extended, ?basilica built, and portico repaired; at Mididi, the curia, portico, and arch were rebuilt. This formula of ‘civic restoration’ is then maintained at Sabratha (curia rebuilt, new portico, new paving, basilica rebuilt), redeveloped towards the end of the 4th c. or in the first half of the 5th. At Athens, in the early 5th c. rebuilding, the Temple of Ares was retained, and a round building was constructed, of the same style as the old tholos by the bouleuterion. This suggests a similar desire to evoke the past, even if a new praetorium / palatial residence now opened off to the south, disguised only by the reuse of a Triton façade from the Odeon of Agrippa that once stood on this spot. At other sites, with less extensive repairs, building works were also low key. At Rome, on the Forum of Caesar, and at Ostia, in the Palaestra, porticoes were rebuilt or repaved, whilst temples were repaired or added. Here, the late dating of such phases has only just become clear, due to their style being so compatible with furnishings of earlier centuries. Renewals in Greece and indeed in Constantinople and Asia Minor are similarly conservative, with porticoes being the main subject, although in the tetragonal agorai of Ephesus, Side, and Perge, cellular shops are also rebuilt or embellished, as they were at Delphi. Only a few plazas show any substantial changes in design as a result of comprehensive restoration. At Amiens, the forum was, in its first restoration, provided with new rectangular buildings, constructed over the eastern courtyard, which reduced its size considerably [271–96]. Then, in a second restoration, two of its porticoes were demolished, one being replaced by a storage building [297–362]. Here, the degree of alteration is great, so as to cause one to suspect some radical change of function, like a military presence, quite credible in northern Gaul at this time. Other western fora show more subtle changes. Conimbriga’s final building phase eliminates its temple, creating a simple porticoed square, as does that of Sabratha: after an earthquake, the temples were spoliated and a new portico was added, to block out an old area sacra. The restored Athenian Agora also shows some elements that break with the past, despite the remarks above. In the first late restoration, the plaza was reduced by around half its size, to ca. 105 m east-west by 109 m north-south, including the

Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD

Panathenaic Way [395–420]. It was then reduced again, half a century later, to only ca. 57 m east-west by 63 m north-south, by the time of the completion of the adjacent east-west colonnaded street. This development made it more rectangular [450–75]. However, around the time of the latter works, the plaza was given an honorific column [421–50] which was orientated with the new street, not with the reduced plaza, despite being set at the centre of the latter. This suggests that the great Athenian Agora had now been downgraded to serve as a simple way-station along along the new east-west colonnaded street, as the Panathenaic Way, leading south-east through the plaza, up to the Acropolis, lost its importance.26 Small-Scale Building and Repair Small-scale new building works and repairs to the architectural components of fora / agorai are known from many more cities. These ʻarchitectural componentsʼ I take to be porticoes, paving, entrances, and fountains— the physical infrastructure of the square itself—not selfcontained buildings that happen to be found on a plaza, which will be discussed later. Such interventions again generally sought to maintain the appearance of fora / agorai as rectilinear plazas. Some of this evidence is securely dated through archaeological excavation, whilst some is not, with archaeologists relying on the presence of highly-visible reused blocks within repairs to signify a time frame within Late Antiquity. As a description of reactive repairs and rebuildings, my summary here is rather uninspiring: it makes for difficult and rather dull reading. Of course, ‘patching things up’ never could win anyone the glory or interest that a new building project brought. We should remember that, outside the Near East, most of the architecture of fora / agorai used in this period was predominantly built in earlier centuries. Repairs to such structures present a testimony about which buildings late antique civic authorities valued and did not want to demolish. I hope that my dense lists will at least move the hearts of classically-disposed scholars, who might see the efforts of late antique people to keep the traditional city going, rather than build only new bright churches or luxurious private houses. In terms of porticoes, new-built or rebuilt (Map 12a), in the West, we have 14 examples from 10 sites. I exclude from these totals those on new-built plazas but include those from comprehensive restorations (marked with the sign +). These are known from Exeter+ [250–75, not included in total], Conimbriga+ [3, 250–400, new], Tarraco [286–305 inscr., new], Rodez [300–350, repair], Rome [3, 26  On the rebuilt Athenian Agora, see appendices K2b, C3, F9, and H7.

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357–82, 357–82, 367–68, all rebuilt], Scolacium+ [300– 400], Nora [394–419, rebuild], Belalis Maior [317–24, inscr., rebuilding], Mididi+ [293–94], Sabratha+ [425– 442], and Lepcis [324–26 inscr., new]. There has been a tendency to read porticibus (‘with porticoes’) in gaps in some African inscriptions relating to work on fora, but we can have no certainty for these cases.27 In the East, porticoes, new built or rebuilt, are known in 15–16 examples from 13 sites: Thracian Philippopolis [250–616, small section rebuilt], Delphi+ [ca. 350], Argos [250– 403, rebuilt], Argos [250–616, new], Messene [250–395, new], Megara [359–60 inscr., restored], Megalopolis [300–500, new], Ephesus (Upper Agora) [250–614, rebuilt], Laodicea ad Lycum [2 or 3 porticoes, 324–494], Tripolis ad Meandrum [400–412.5, rebuilt], Oinoanda [250–614, new], Side [250–614, new], Antioch in Syria (Hellenistic agora) [382–432, text, rebuilt], and Philadelphia (Amman) [273–303, new].28 For small-scale repairs to porticoes, where the structure was not actually rebuilt, we have a similar amount of evidence. In the West, these interventions occur in 18 cases from 12 sites. We have stand-alone repairs known on 13 occasions at 8 sites: at Lincoln, where a floor was laid [200–300]; at Rodez, where a wall angle was reinforced [300–350]; at Ostia (Palaestra), twice, firstly when reinforcement piers, revetment, and mosaic repairs were provided [346], and secondly when further reinforcement piers were introduced [443]; at Ostia (Main Forum), 5 times, spread over three different porticoes [250–75 revetment, just outside our period, 350–425, 350–443, 487.5–512.5, and 487.5–512.5 paving]; at Paestum, with a possible redesign [250–544.5]; at Grumentum, with a pavement [300–550]; at Thuburbo Maius [375–78, inscr., restoration]; at Sabratha, with a pavement [364–67]; at Nesactium, with a higher paving level [undated]. Repairs to porticoes also occurred as part of major forum restorations on 5 occasions at 4 sites: at Cirencester (twice), where the structure was first rebuilt [287.5–389], then blocked, painted, and given mosaics [364–89]; at Complutum, with a new shingle floor [250–75, not in the total, as just outside our period]; at Rome (Forum of Caesar), where the Basilica Argentaria was restored, tabernae reinforced, east / south-east portico strengthened and given revetment and a great opus sectile floor [306–12]; at Iol Caesarea, where a portico was resurfaced and at least one of portico columns reset [425–50], and at Sabratha, with a new white mosaic [425–42]. It is well to remember that the 27  New porticoes, the West: appendix K4a. For the reconstruction of ‘porticoes’ in African inscriptions, see e.g. Lepcis in appendix K2a. 28  New porticoes, the East: appendix K4b.

276 detailed excavation work that Axel Gering and myself carried out on porticoes at Ostia has not been replicated elsewhere and may thus over-represent the level of activity in that city somewhat, even if it did see an exceptional level of investment in civic public building in the later 3rd to earlier 5th c. AD.29 In the East, porticoes saw minor repairs in 18 cases on 11 sites. These include stand-alone repairs at 7 sites: at Megara [359–60, restored, inscr.]; at Elis, with the colonnade re-erected [undated]; at Messene, with the colonnade repaired [250–395]; at Aphrodisias, with work on columns [360–518]; at Xanthos, where the cryptoporticus was restored [250–614]; at Kaunos, where the back wall was repaired [250–614]; at Gerasa (Oval Plaza), where the colonnade was repaired [ca. 500]. Of portico repairs that were part of major restorations, we have 11 examples from 4 sites, with 2 examples from Corinth [364–78 inscr. on two architraves], 3 from Ephesus [379– 403, porticoes re-erected, one paved with square bricks], 2 from Orthosia [250–614, both porticoes re-erected, covered with mortar and paint, reused marble paving in one)], 4 from Perge [250–614, new mosaics laid]. These small-scale repairs to porticoes clearly reveal a very different set of priorities in the West, where they are focused especially on re-flooring, than in the East, where the re-erection of colonnades was an overwhelming interest. It is notable that only at Ostia, the port of the old capital, do we encounter marble revetment.30 Whilst porticoes remained a main popular part of fora / agorai, in the East, there is nonetheless some evidence of the selective decay of traditional stoas, as if they were no longer adapted to the needs of the day. These buildings were essentially wide porticoes with closed ends, sometimes two-storey, sometimes with shops, more usually without, conceived as free-standing entities, rather than connected to other structures. On the Athenian Agora, we see the Stoa of Zeus Eleutherios and the Stoa Basileios both destroyed at the end of the 4th c., part of a widespread destruction on the northern side of the agora, where it joins the Panathenaic Way [383–408]. Neither were rebuilt as part of the replanned agora [395–420]. The new plaza entirely neglected porticoes even if the stoas on the north side of the agora continued: one was built anew [400–625], another repainted [ca. 400]. But these porticoes were also part of the Panathenaic Way. However, other destructions are known. At Corinth, just before our period, a stoa colonnade was destroyed and incorporated into the Roman Baths, built within the rooms on the south side of the stoa [253–78]. At Megalopolis, a new Late Roman 29  Repaired porticoes, the West: appendix K4a. 30  Repaired porticoes, the East: appendix K4b.

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portico was constructed from spolia taken from the adjacent Philippeios Stoa [300–500]. Unfortunately, we do not know when the Philippeios Stoa began to be ruined. At Elis, the stoa was ruined at an undated moment prior to the end of Antiquity, sometime before a church was built into it [313–616]. Finally, at Tegea, another church was built in a stoa, again undated, within an agora which has produced 4th c. statues bases, the latest of which is ca. 395. This suggests active secular use of the plaza up to this time, during which the appearance of a 4th c. church would seem odd. Overall, it looks like stoas fell out of use from the mid-3rd c. at the latest and that their decay / unpopularity was well-advanced by the late 4th c. The decay of stoas in Greece does not seem especially remarkable until one compares the story of plaza porticoes, within the 4th–5th c. Very few examples of potential portico degradation are known, and these do not involve demolition. Rather, they involve repurposing, both in Italy (4 cases) and Asia Minor (5): at Ostia, rooms were built inside the Palaestra portico [443–?450]; at Terracina, a mosaic-floored room appears in the portico / basilica [250–544.5]; at Paestum, transverse walls cut across a portico [undated]; at Scolacium, the portico intercolumniations were blocked [300–400]. In Asia Minor, subdivisions of porticoes into cellular rooms at Sagalassos have the mid-points of their dating ranges in the 6th c. [525–641, 525–575, 500–575, 500–628]. It is also worth mentioning here that the agora stoa at Ariassos in Pisidia was similarly converted into cellular rooms at an undated time within Late Antiquity [250–616]. Clearly, we have three regional phenomena. Firstly, the decay of Classical-Hellenistic stoas is in Greece, but occurs too early to relate to the decay of agorai, as at Corinth. We might imagine that, faced with the spread of the portico, the more elaborate architectural form of the stoa was no longer considered worth retaining, most obvious at Megalopolis, where the older building provided building material for a new portico. Secondly, there is some indication of an encroachment of porticoes in Italy, for rooms of various sizes, not especially cellular, where the portico itself was retained, not demolished. Some of these developments, as at Ostia and Scolacium, seem to represent a final, fairly shabby, building-phase, which might be characterised as degradation, although in other cases it does seem that porticoes were being enclosed within the period when fora were still monumental. Similar developments are not known in other regions and could be taken as indicative of how Italian cities retained their fora during the 5th c. as downgraded urban spaces, without much survival of classical architectural forms. Thirdly, the creation of cellular shops from agora porticoes also looks to be a regional phenomenon, of

Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD

Asia Minor, but seems to belong in the 6th c., not the 4th–5th c.31 In terms of plaza resurfacing (Map 12b), we have at Rome, for the Forum Romanum, a great deal of knowledge, thanks to the magisterial survey of Giuliani and Verduchi. Here, many zones of repair have been mapped within the Severan pavement, itself a polygonal arrangement of different sized slabs, joined with bronze clamps. Six of these paving patches can be dated to Late Antiquity, although we only have a more precise date in 4 cases. These works reflect decisions to remove honorific statues, insert new monuments, or to carry out maintenance work on the Cloaca Maxima, which runs beneath the plaza. One such square patch (for a monument footprint of 2.45 m by 2.8 m) is very close in style to the Severan paving, so probably dates prior to the mid-3rd c. However, a large rectangular area on the north side of the forum, adjacent to the Via Sacra, was repaved in blocks of varying types, closely fitted; so too was an area next to the Eastern Rostra, where the slabs are very closely fitted and do not look reused. Both patches can be dated around 303. A much rougher area, around the Anaglypha Traiani, was re-laid with heterogeneous reused slabs, sometime prior to 398. Otherwise, we have areas of paving of varied rectangular sizes which are badly laid, without slabs being cut to fit and or of almost-regular rectangular slabs closely fitting and sometimes cut to fit. These features can only be dated loosely to Late Antiquity [250–608]. I will explore later what these pavement patches reveal about the nature of the history of honorific monuments on the forum.32 Elsewhere, we have 18 cases of plaza resurfacing from 16 sites, of which 13 cases are from the West and 6 are from the East. They occur at Gloucester [250–400, resurfaced in broken tile and crushed limestone], Aurgi in Andalucia [300–350, with earth / mortar], Mérida [undated, small stones without mortar fill paving holes], Complutum [340–65, probably in gravel], Aquileia [250–404, reused slabs], Rome (Forum of Caesar) [paving patch, undated], Ostia (Main Forum) [undated, travertine paving?], Egnatia [200–300, slab reorganisation], Belalis Maior [317–439, reused slabs], Sabratha [425–442, reused materials], Smyrna (twice) [both dated to 387.5–498, thin marble slabs, then limestone slabs], Perge [250–614, a few slabs of reused material], and Gerasa (Oval plaza) [285–305, smaller less-regular slabs on west side]. Resurfacing work, when part of 31  Decay of porticoes: see appendix K4c. Replanning of the Athenian Agora: K2b. Repair of Athenian Agora portico on north side: see appendices C4, C5. Portico subdivision into cellular rooms at Sagalassos: Y2. 32  Plaza resurfacing, Rome: see appendix K4d.

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comprehensive restorations, is also mostly western, occurring at Cirencester [364–89, slabs across forum, newcut], Ostia (Palaestra) [287.5–312.5, white mosaic with black border covering whole plaza], and Iol Caesarea [425–50, a few slabs, some reused pieces]. A single example is known in the East, from Orthosia in Caria [250– 614], where new paving was laid in reused marble.33 Arches that served as entrances to fora / agorai (Map 12c) were newly built or repaired in the West, in 4 or 5 cases at 4 sites, and, in the East, in 4 cases at 4 sites. In the West, they were built anew at Rome, in both the Forum of Caesar [as part of works on the Temple of Venus, 306– 12] and in the Forum Romanum [north of the Basilica Iulia, probably 286–303], each time in brick. At Ostia, a new columnar porch was built on the cardo, to give access to the Palaestra, closer to the forum than its existing entrance [287.5–312.5]. A traditional honorific arch was possibly built at Thubursicu Numidarum [355–60, triple-portalled], whilst another was repaired as part of a comprehensive restoration at Mididi [293–94 inscr., single portalled]. In the East, arches are known at Serdica [undated, double-portalled dipylon], at Constantinople (Amastrianon) [324–455, arch supporting a statue of Valentinian I or II], at Argos [350–400, single portalled], and at Alabanda [250–614, single-portalled]. The East also saw building work on more elaborate propylaea entrances on 6 occasions at 4 sites: at Corinth, the monument leading onto the agora from the colonnaded street was rebuilt using large re-cut blocks [250– 616]; at Athens, one of the propylaea on the Roman Agora was re-erected, whilst another was repaired sometime in Late Antiquity [276–616] (fig. E3b); at Aphrodisias, the Agora Gate was rebuilt from the foundations up, dated by inscriptions honouring the governor Dulcitus and the pater Ampelius [460–518], sometime prior to being converted into a fountain; at Laodicea ad Lycum, two propylaea of the North Agora were rebuilt [324–337, 494–610], one already being a new creation of the period [284–305] (fig. E3c). It was an elaborate structure, with a double row of 6 piers, set on square pedestals, with a mixture of simple capital types, supporting a Syrian pediment. Simpler, more functional interventions can be seen on 5 occasions at 4 other sites in and around the Aegean region: at Magnesia ad Meandrum, an entrance street was converted into a covered passage [250–614]; at Perge (tetragonal agora), a new entrance was opened up in the south exedra, whilst three other entrances were blocked [250–614]; at Side (tetragonal agora), a new entrance was cut into the south exedra [250–614]; finally, at Philippi and Magnesia, ramps were constructed leading 33  Plaza resurfacing, elsewhere: see appendix K4d and cross references.

278 down into agora, in the latter case composed of massive blocks [twice in 250–527] [250–614, within the covered passage]. At both sites, the ramps were given striations, likely to allow animals to grip as they descended into the plaza (see fig. E4a).34 A rare feature of agorai was a grand staircase (Map 12d), for which we have 3 or 4 examples, from the Aegean region alone, two of which are from the same site. At Corinth, the south flank of the agora was transformed into a huge monumental stair, connecting the raised esplanade in front of the ‘South Stoa’ with the agora proper. The staircase measured as much as ca. 130 m long by 4.5 m wide and was composed of 9 steps [350–75]. Comparable wide staircases have been recorded at Tripolis ad Meandrum, where the ‘Late Roman Agora’ has two stepped-areas that are present on two sides, an arrangement seen at no other site: 7 steps front a portico on the north side and 7 steps front a platform with no portico on the south side. The southern stepped platform measures 5.5 m by 42.2 m, whilst northern stepped-area extended for 45 m east-west [400–412.5]. Such staircases on agorai are difficult to explain. They may have been built to provide seating, related to the public spectacles or processions. Comparable features are known from earlier periods, in the wider Aegean region, at Kadyanda, Phaselis, and Priene. They did at least provide an architectural solution for changes in level, within a plaza, more attractive than a terrace wall.35 Another stylish piece of infrastructure was the monumental fountain, which has been described in detail in the streets chapter, together with those set along urban avenues. In the West, 4 examples are known from 2 sites but are problematic: they were not really set on fora proper. A single example comes from Ostia: the great nymphaeum by the Piazzale della Vittoria [346–89, new]. This was set on the new triangular plaza created by the Porta Romana, through which the Decumanus ran. The other three examples from the West all come from Sufetula and all are set in micro-plazas / waystations, one on an esplanade leading off the forum [all 364–67]. In the East, nymphaea set on agorai proper are known in 3 cases from 2 sites, being built anew at Constantinople on the plaza that became the Forum of Theodosius [AD 373] and on the Forum of Constantine, opposite the Senate Building [425–65], when it was destroyed. At Aphrodisias, the Agora Gate was converted into a nymphaeum by adding a basin, which was decorated with mythological reliefs [460–614].36 34  Arches, entrances and ramps: see appendix K5. 35  Staircases: see appendix K6. N.B. Staircases in the Aegean region: see Cavalier and des Courtils (2008). 36  Monumental fountains, new: see appendix K7a.

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figure e4a

Ramp, with striations for grip, probably established to allow animal access to the agora, Philippi

Repairs and improvements to nymphaea were equally common. They have been detected at 3 sites in the West and 3 in the East. In the West, they are known at Ostia Piazzale della Vittoria [346–512.5], at Scolacium [300–400], and at Sufetula [364–647]. In the East, they are known at Argos [387.5–403], at Hierapolis in Phrygia [337–61], and at Antioch [300–540]. The repair from Ostia was just a new layer of painted plaster, and at Sufetula a new mortar / shingle floor was added to the fore-plaza, but Scolacium saw an external basin added on three sides of a fountain, a new water supply, and marble revetment of the interior replaced with wall plaster painted in blue. Argos simply saw the external wall of the basin perimeter raised, to match a new agora surface, whilst Hierapolis witnessed the façade wall being rebuilt and an exedra added to the front. Antioch saw the most works, with a new water supply, new marble revetment, white mosaic, and basin.37 Of these, only Scolacium and Argos were built inside fora / agorai, rather than at way-stations.38 Ordinary fountains were also built or repaired in small numbers. For the West, we have two examples, both coming from eastern Hispania: at Tarraco, close to Provincial Forum, a plaque was found with a dedication to the Augusti Leo and Anthemius [so AD 467–72]. This inscription would normally have been interpreted as a statue base, except that the text was set around a hole, which may represent a water outlet; at Valencia, a 4th c. repair is claimed for the nymphaeum, with a ‘refurbishment’ that included new tiles in its basin. Unfortunately, the dating is not published, beyond an 37  Monumental fountains, repaired: see appendix K7b. 38  Two phases of repair at Sagalassos, on the Antonine nymphaeum of the Upper Agora, may date from this period, but as their midpoint falls in the subsequent century, I have reserved them to the next chapter.

Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD

inaccessible archival report, although chronology is usually well-founded in the reports of this team. For the East, 3 or 4 examples are known: at Corinth, we have the two scholae / exedrae of the Bema being converted into fountains, with basins ca. 6.5 m by 3.7 m, as part of a transformation of this whole side of the agora into a monumental staircase [350–75]; at Ephesus, a square fountain (set inside the back wall of the theatre) was restored to a smaller size [undated]; at Perge, the central temple of the tetragonal agora may have been converted into a fountain, at an unknown time [undated]. We might reasonably suspect that fountains, like statue bases, are under-represented in the record we have, as smaller versions are relatively easy to remove from fora / agorai. Nonetheless, the low level of work on fixed large structures suggests that they were not a serious focus of monumental investment in many cities.39 Finally, the Strategion at Constantinople acquired an obelisk, at some point prior to 425, which the Notitia Urbis of the same year records: this may have been brought into the plaza as part of works which saw it renamed as the Forum Theodosiacum. It is likely part of the same obelisk set up in the Hippodrome, which was dedicated in 390.40 Quite what the function of such a monument was is a matter for speculation. Was it an accidental antiquarian trophy? Or was it perhaps related to solar time-keeping, like the Horologium of Augustus in Rome, which measured the length of days and nights? We know that, at Rome, the obelisk set up by Constantius II in the Circus Maximus was previously dedicated to the Sun, as Ammianus was aware.41 In a plaza, especially a round plaza, any kind of a central column or obelisk could have acted as a sundial, perhaps suggesting one reason why Constantine’s statue in his Forum at Constantinople was originally conceived in the guise of Apollo Helios. Furthermore, sundials were normally set on columns in this period, allowing the rough time to be read from it at a distance, rather than just close up. Yet, whatever the merits of these speculative theories, we must admit that interest in providing time-pieces in public plazas seems to be much more of a feature of the 6th c., than it was of the 4th–5th c.42 The chronological distribution of all types of repairs is overwhelmingly late 3rd to early 5th c., with a few outliers mainly caused by dating being imprecise, based on 39  Fountains, new and repaired: see appendix K7c. 40  Obelisks in fora: Constantinople: see appendix K2b. 41  Obelisks as time-keepers elsewhere: Rome (Horologium of Augustus): see Heslin (2007) with earlier references; (Circus Maximus): Amm. Marc. 17.4.12–23. 42   Columns as timekeepers: Constantinople (Column of Constantine with statue of Apollo Helios): see references and artwork collected by Bassett (2004) 192–204. Columns carrying sundials: see n. 45 on chapter on 6th c. fora / agorai.

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reuse, as it often is in Asia Minor. In terms of regional variation, most repair work is from Italy, Africa, Greece and Asia Minor, or Rome and Constantinople. The low numbers from Africa are surprising, for a region that contributed so many statues on fora, or honorific arches on streets, in the same period. Examples from the Levant are again present: from Antioch, Hippos / Sussita, and Philadelphia, even if the total number of agorai so far found in this area is very low. The region clearly wanted to maintain the forum / agora as an essential urban attribute of the age. Within this overall distribution of works, a number of regional differences are visible. Entrances were especially well looked after in the East, where traditional propylaea were repaired, as well as honorific arches constructed, with the latter also being built in the West. Porticoes were constructed and repaired all around the empire, excepting Egypt and the northern Balkans, but this was more common in the East. Here, the construction / rebuilding of the architectural superstructure was more important than the paving of porticoes, which was the main priority in the West. Although western materials could be poorer, this was not always the case: the mosaics of Cirencester and Sabratha were calculated improvements. The same western preference for surfaces can be seen in the paving of the open area of plazas, the renewal of which is about twice as common in the West as in the East. Finally, we have building work on staircases and fountains, the former of which are entirely eastern, and the latter mainly western, both found in small numbers. These regional patterns of repair, visible on Map 12, require some explanation: there seems to be a clear cultural orientation in the West towards paving works. This was not the result of poverty: Cirencester’s forum paving was of new-cut red and green Pennant sandstone rectangular slabs, covering the whole of the plaza, which was very large, as the central element of a forum that extended over an area of ca. 103 m by 66 m. This paving was as smart as anything seen in Constantinople, and smarter than that laid down in Antioch at the same time. Good quality paving could exist in the East, as seen at Smyrna (twice), Orthosia, and Gerasa. However, in the East, there is a contrasting preference for maintaining the architectural superstructure of the agora: in entrances and especially its porticoes. This is particularly true of Greece, where there is a big concentration of works on new built and repaired porticoes. It is also true to a lesser extent in cities of western Asia Minor. Perhaps, therefore, we can consider the architectural aspect of the agora to be especially significant in areas with a strong Greek cultural heritage, whilst the Latin West saw fora as more functional plazas, although aesthetics were by no means excluded from building work. The low representation of Africa for paving in relation to Italy, as well as

280 the absence of the northern Balkans, even Macedonia, suggests more complex local cultural patterns at work. It is possible that the lower amount of repair evidence from Africa reflects the fact that small-scale works to surfaces are almost always observed from archaeology, which is not as well-developed here as it could be due to the difficulty in visiting sites. Yet, it is also worth noting that fora are under-represented compared to other types of construction in Africa, even within its loquacious epigraphic habit. So perhaps there really was less interest. As an aside, it is striking that Constantinople achieves an architectural synthesis of both good surfaces and upstanding porticoes or entrances: as such it drew on the priorities of both East and West, even if the style of its plazas can be most closely related to the imperial fora of Rome. The Nature of Restorations and Repairs In evaluating the nature of lesser works, I consider here major restoration, as well as small-scale building and repair, but not entirely-new built fora /agorai, on which I have already said enough. I will confine myself here to a discussion of porticoes and of stone paving of plazas. There is little to say about the nature of repaired / new built entrances, other than has already been said in my initial listings. We have little of the upper parts remaining, and where we do, as for the propylaea at Athens, the work is essentially a patching-up of the existing structure in reused material, of which only the mismatching colour of stone represents a new development. Equally, plaza surfacing in clay, gravel, rubble, mortar, etc. has also been adequately described. For porticoes, the superstructure does not always survive, particularly in the West. We are usually left with a colonnade stylobate in reused material, and not much else. This leaves us with little more than portico dimensions. Yet, at Rome (three times), Delphi, Megalopolis, Messene, Argos, Laodicea ad Lycum, Aphrodisias, Sagalassos, and Philadelphia, we do have some idea of the upper parts of new porticoes, which permits a broader discussion on their design (see a selection on fig. E4b). Most of these portico rebuildings are unremarkable, except for four cases: at Lepcis, where a tripartite portico replaces a civil basilica on the forum vetus, and at Rome, on both the Forum Romanum (porticus deorum consentium [henceforth ‘PDC’] and Basilica Aemilia) and the Forum of Caesar. The Lepcis portico is of three short sections arranged around a courtyard, over the ruins of the basilica, whilst the PDC at Rome is of two sections, arranged on two sides of a triangle, reflecting an earlier design. The porticoes outside the Basilica Aemilia and on the Forum of Caesar are exceptionally wide and long, with the latter having an upper

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storey. They exhibit a range of similar design features and were built very close to each other, making it likely that both date to 357–82, when the portico in the Forum of Caesar was constructed. The latter portico had twoaisles, like its predecessor. Two-aisle porticoes are also known to have been partially rebuilt twice at Orthosia and three times at Ephesus (Lower Agora), as part of comprehensive rebuildings, matching the popularity of double-width porticoes in places where fora were built anew, as at Constantinople and Antioch. Regarding dimensions, we know only a few cases where new porticoes have been completely excavated or can be reconstructed. As one might expect, these were of greatly varying sizes, reflecting the spaces they were built into. Lengths, measured along the back wall (unless stated) can be given in the following cases: Rome PDC ca. 32.75 m, Rome Basilica Aemilia ca. 106 m, Rome Forum of Caesar ca. 127 m / 116 m on the plaza side, Sabratha ca. 37 m, Delphi ca. 38.5 m, Argos ca. 27 m, Megalopolis ca. 10 m, Messene ca. 87 m, Oinoanda at least 89 m long, and Sagalassos Upper Agora west portico ca. 53.5 m. These lengths show an unremarkable pecking order, from imperial capitals to small cities, with perhaps a preference in Asia Minor for longer porticoes, not necessarily conditioned by pre-existing dimensions of agorai. Widths are known more widely. In the East, these show that the porticoes of Greece were rather narrower than those of Asia Minor. For the first region, we have Delphi (ca. 5.3 m), Argos (ca. 5 m), Megalopolis (ca. 6 m), and Messene ‘South Stoa’ (ca. 4.5 m wide). For the second region, we have Oinoanda (ca. 5.8 m to 6.1 m) and Sagalassos Upper Agora, west side (ca. 5.8 m deep). In the West, it is harder to suggest a regional pattern for widths, on the little data we have so far: we have unremarkable widths from Conimbriga in Hispania (ca. 4.6 m, ca. 5.5 m, ca. 5.5 m), whilst Sabratha in Africa is comparatively wide, at ca. 6.5 m. At Rome, the narrowest and the widest examples are known, from ca. 4 m wide on the PDC in the Forum Romanum to ca. 8.2 m for the Basilica Aemilia on the same plaza, to ca. 13.7 m on the Forum of Caesar, which was a double-aisled structure. Heights can only be estimated for colonnades in a few cases, showing only that they were greatest in the old capital: at Rome Basilica Aemilia (5.46–5.60 m, columns of 4.09–4.11 m), at Rome PDC (5.94 m with columns of 4.15 m), at Rome Forum of Caesar two storeys (6.7 m, columns ca. 5.4 m and 4 m, columns ca. 3.5 m), at Delphi (columns of ca. 4 m, rough estimate), and at Messene (4.08 m, columns ca. 3.75 m). In most cases, the fact that porticoes were being rebuilt within an existing setting limited them directly or indirectly, although the basilica and forum porticoes of Rome seem least bound by

Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD

figure e4b

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Late agora porticoes at Megalopolis, Aphrodisias (Tetrastoon), and Sagalassos (Upper and Lower Agorai) Note the two different styles of the adjacent porticoes at Aphrodisias

earlier measurements. Some porticoes were restored or rebuilt with only minor design changes, as at the tetragonal agora of Ephesus or the North Agora of Laodicea ad Lycum. These porticoes obviously continued the architectural design of earlier periods. In both of these cases from Asia Minor, restoration or rebuilding involved porticoes of great width and height. Of colonnade style, the two porticoes mentioned for Rome (PDC, Forum of Caesar) had granite columns and cubic pedestals, which helped the porticoes surpass the height limitations of their columns. Pedestals are also known at Sagalassos (as seen at the new-built Aphrodisias Tetrastoon) and at Philadelphia (Amman), as a way of boosting column height. In contrast, other sites, such as Argos, Messene, Megalopolis, and Orthosia have no column bases at all. The column drums used at Orthosia were of varied types and were placed upside down in some instances. Variations in materials are also known at Rome, in all three of its late porticoes, with different types of columns, and at Laodicea ad Lycum and Sagalassos. However, at Delphi, Megalopolis, and Messene, care was taken to ensure that the monolithic

columns used were of a similar origin, as far as can be seen from surviving sections. It seems that no new / rebuilt portico was given new-cut columns. Capital types were predominantly Corinthian / Composite, although Messene has Doric and Ephesus (Upper Agora) has something unusual that I was not able to describe. One at Philadelphia was apparently new-cut, the others reused. Stone architraves are still being used in a number of cases, as at Corinth, twice, and at Rome, at least twice. Arcading has only been detected at Argos. In many sites, the absence of either stone architraves or impost blocks for arcading, within well-preserved porticoes, implies again that a wooden architrave was being used. At Megalopolis, complete architrave blocks were used to make up the stylobate, rather than to support the roof, suggesting an active rejection of stone architraves in favour of wood, into which it was perhaps easier to attach rafters. Portico paving is well-documented, and need not be considered exhaustively here, given the detail already presented above. Suffice to say that surfaces around Rome were the finest, where rebuilt porticoes were

282 concerned. High quality surfaces found here included the well-laid stone slabs recorded in the forum porticoes at Ostia, during the 4th to mid 5th c., and a floor in opus sectile provided for the Forum of Caesar, under Maxentius. The latter floor was of exceptional quality, covering an area ca. 12 m wide by 47 m long. It employed well-disguised large reused slabs, of white marble (Luni, Proconnesos, Thasos), pavonazzetto, giallo antico, cipollino, and grey granite from Mons Claudianus. Mosaic is recorded at Ostia, in the Palaestra (white with a black border), and at Sabratha (a grid pattern of black lines on white ground). Here, a portico floor of broken marble slabs is also known. Elsewhere in the West, flooring is more modest, featuring opus signinum mortar (Lincoln), shingle (Complutum), tiles, and reused material (Grumentum). Yet, the standard of new floorings in the East is generally lower, with the great city of Ephesus only managing brick, whilst at Oinoanda the portico surface is in a pavement of reused tiles set on edge, along with coarse pottery and pieces of unworked limestone, set into a thick clay foundation. Orthosia is a regional highlight, presenting a paving of reused marble slabs. The lack of information on eastern portico surfaces means that beaten earth is likely to have been used at many sites. This can be confirmed at Messene. An exception to both regional patterns can be seen in the empire-wide cosmopolitan style of fora / agorai portico mosaics, at Cirencester, Thessalonica, and Perge: great mosaics were laid in the porticoes, of mixed geometric carpets within a unified border, a style fashionable in Asia Minor and seen in the Forum of Valens at Antioch. We have little evidence of portico wall decoration, both wall plaster and revetment. Of plaster, we have a few scraps from three sites in the West and one site in the East. At Cirencester, the colonnade of the north portico was replaced with a blank wall, looking onto the forum: this was decorated in pink plaster with red lines on its external face. At Nora, the rebuilt portico was also plastered: its colour is lost but adjacent rooms were given red plaster, as was part of a wall at Ostia, in the Palaestra portico. Painted mortar is known from the late portico restorations at Orthosia, although again we do not know in what colours. Of revetment, the area around Rome provides most evidence. From the same Palaestra portico at Ostia, we have white marble, with a slim band of grey marble set within it, for a prior late phase. Similar revetment is also found in the forum of the same city. Subsequent repairs to the Palaestra portico vaulting were covered by thin sheets of cipollino. Marble revetment in giallo antico is also attested at Rome, in the east portico of the Forum of Caesar, contemporary with the opus sectile floor described above, and also at Sagalassos, where the northern half of the west portico on the

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Upper Agora shows traces of veneer. We surely should expect such veneer at Constantinople, although no work has so far been done to detect it. Other aspects of aesthetics of rebuilt and repaired porticoes include the treatment of their roofs. At Constantinople, the gilding of the roof of the Basilica courtyard (of tiles or ceiling) may have been done as a consequence of its ennoblement under Constantine, who built two tychaia here, or under Julian, who gave it a library. A law of 440, given a few decades before the complex was destroyed by a fire, describes the plaza as being ‘gilded and adorned with marbles’ (Cod. Iust. 8.11.21). This text reminds us of the bronze tiles from the Forum of Theodosius, mentioned in 407, certainly also from the porticoes, which might well have been gilded. One could also recall the coffered ceiling of the Forum built under Valens at Antioch. We lack archaeological details of ceilings, with one exception. Ceiling plaster, recovered from a portico at Ostia of the Foro della statua eroica [which I classify as a macellum], was of red panels with green and black lines.43 The spacing of columns is again irregular in the few sites where it can be observed: as at Delphi, Messene, and Orthosia. A particularly ugly practice is seen in Italy, of brick reinforcement piers discussed earlier under streets, designed to cope with earthquakes, either set laterally across the portico or set along the stylobate around columns: these modifications are seen in two phases of the Ostia Palaestra and on street porticoes in the same city. Despite the dubious aesthetics created, the first set of piers at Ostia was given marble revetment. Reinforcement piers can also be observed on a forum portico at Paestum and on a street portico at Lucus Feroniae.44 Stone paving was executed in materials of different qualities and to varying levels of competence. Sometimes we simply hear of ‘reused paving’ without further details being provided, as at Belalis Maior, Orthosia or Gerasa. At the last site, the reused stone is similar in colour, although adjacent early paving is much better matched. At Orthosia, we hear it was of marble. At Sabratha, it was broken reused slabs of stone and marble reused slabs. At Cirencester and Smyrna, in contrast, we have phases of new-cut slabs, one of sandstone at the first site, and two of marble then limestone, at the second site. In many other places, late slabs interventions are just occasional patches. In the Forum Romanum, a great deal of variation is visible over time, in the patches of repaving. The period seems to begin with the use of fairly homogenous 43  On the roof plaster of the Foro della statua eroica, Ostia, see appendix W1. 44  Reinforcement piers: at Ostia (appendix K2a, K4a), at Paestum (K4c), at Lucus Feroniae (C5).

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Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD Cherchel

Ostia Foro della statua eroica

Ostia Forum Portico

inscribed block

0

figure e5a

2m

Paving slabs, different styles: the Forum of Iol Caesarea, the Forum of Ostia (portico) and in the Foro della statua eroica, also Ostia

larger slab sizes, reflecting the style of the Severan paving, moving to more heterogeneous mixed sizes, such as those set around the Anaglypha Traiani and close to the column of Phocas. The individual slabs at Cirencester measured 0.3 m by 0.6 m to 0.6 m by 0.75 m, those at Sabratha up to ca. 0.7 m by 1.2 m, whilst those at Smyrna, in the first late paving, include a slab ca. 0.75 m by 1.5 m. At Gerasa, the slabs were about one quarter of the size of those of adjacent Early Imperial paving. The aesthetics of this paving are somewhat varied (fig. E5a). At Cirencester, new-cut slabs were laid in parallel rows, of differing width, as they were at Smyrna. At Gerasa, the reused paving slabs of the oval plaza were sorted and laid into rows, but they are less regular than earlier, less well-jointed, and with some odd gaps in places; furthermore, the wear is a lot more severe than that of the earlier paving, perhaps on account of stone quality, making the later paving look quite ugly. At Sabratha, rows seem to be confined to the plaza edges, with some areas adopting more of a rectangular jigsaw, although, in one part, rectilinearity has broken down completely. At Ostia, the paving in the ‘Main Forum Portico’ trench, is in carefully colour-matched patches, with inscribed faces turned down, sorted into rows as far as possible, with close jointing and angles cut to fit. It was assumed

to be Early Imperial. Only when the slabs were turned over by Gering was reuse revealed, in the shape of inscribed and carved elements, with its later 4th to early 5th c. date being established from finds. If it had not been for the sondages carried out here, the late antique renovations would not even have been suspected, a situation which may prevail elsewhere, perhaps in Africa. At Ostia, we have the chance to see a variety of approaches to reused paving in the same city, albeit between portico and plaza paving. In the neighbouring Foro della statua eroica, the mid 4th c. paving was far more mixed in its colours and in the visibility of inscribed pieces. The varied origins of slabs of different materials are obvious in this paving, even if attempts have been made to cut them to fit in a ‘jigsaw’ pattern, within some short, localised rows. Yet, it might have been difficult to tell the difference between weathered Early Imperial building in fora / agorai, and new late antique construction, painted or rendered. The repaving of the early 5th c., in the same plaza at Ostia, was of a far lower quality, with the same slabs levered out, in small pieces, and then re-laid in a broken condition at a higher level. Gaps were filled with building rubble or cobbles. In contrast, good quality paving was used in the Main Forum porticoes until the very last recorded surfacing

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Complutum

Sabratha

Complutum

Sabratha

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Constantinople, Forum of Theodosius (entirely reconstructed) Constantinople, Forum of Theodosius (entirely reconstructed)

Cuicul Cuicul

0 0

figure e5b

50m 50m

Civil basilicas built in Late Antiquity, or just before: Complutum, Cuicul, Sabratha, Constantinople (Forum of Theodosius)

[487.5–512.5]. There are not obvious regional differences in late forum stone paving around the empire, although it was far more popular in the West. However, differences within cities might well have been evident, with the principal forum / agora being better paved than other spaces. An Intermediate Space: the Civil Basilica Beyond the immediate essential infrastructure of the forum / agora—its porticoes, paving, arches, and fountains, there is one common building type which forms an intermediate space. This was the civil basilica (Map 16a), which was not entirely enclosed, often being open on one lateral side. This structure is now often associated with law courts, but also housed covered markets, and, potentially, almost any activity that might take place on the plaza, in an all-weather setting.45 We only have 5 examples of new construction from Late Antiquity, of which two are known from inscriptions alone and two can be confirmed by archaeology. The two cases known from inscriptions alone are both from Africa and seem to have been part of a single programme, in two cities. Firstly, an inscription from Cirta Constantina records the 45  Civil basilicas, new and repaired: see appendices X1a–X1b.

erection of a basilica Constantiana (for Constantius II) in 362/63 [presumably begun before Constantius’ death in 361], as a new building, by Claudius Avitianus (vicar of Africa AD 362–63). Secondly, another inscription, from Tunis, records works carried out on a ‘Consta]ntianam(?) basilicam’ through a curator Frolius Caecilianus, which sounds like a new building, given the verb used (‘fecit’). Although the Tunis dedication might be for another son of Constantine or Constantius I [so could be 305–61], the unusual object of works suggests that the inscription could be contemporary with the Cirta text. Indeed, it is likely that the Tunis inscription comes from the adjacent city of Carthage, a provincial capital, like Cirta. We hear of other basilicas being built in the East: at Nauplion in Greece in 375–78 [inscr.], at Nicomedia [several, 302–305, text], and at Caesarea Palestinae [460–535 inscr.]. Archaeological examples of new civil basilicas come from Cuicul, Sabratha, and Constantinople (fig. E5b), supplemented by epigraphy for the first two sites and texts for the last case. Scolacium also presents a possible archaeological candidate, although for very small basilica, whilst that at Complutum was built just prior to our period [250–75]. The Basilica of Maxentius in Rome represents an oddity, closer to the hall of an imperial

Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD

bath building. It was not actually set on the forum plaza, so I will not use it here. There is a small possibility that both basilicas from Africa represent colonnaded street porticoes rather than civil basilicas: that at Cirta was commemorated alongside a new (cross-hall) ‘tetrapylon’, on the side of which three identical texts were inscribed, recording the construction of the basilica and tetrapylon, although porticoes were also mentioned in the same inscription. New basilicas known from inscriptions and literary texts, at Nauplion, Nicomedia, and Caesarea Palestinae are slightly problematic, as we do not know the context of these structures, and in one case (Nicomedia) it is possible, again, that colonnaded streets are intended, or perhaps double-width porticoes around an agora. Such wide porticoes can be associated with the term basilica at Antioch and Constantinople, as we have seen earlier. It is of course dangerous to go far beyond the text, so we must envisage that these civil basilicas could have been built, both in Africa and the East at this time. At least in the case of archaeological examples, we can have more certainty as to what the structure represented at this period. In terms of architectural form, it is worth dwelling on the few cases we have of new-built structures, especially because of their potential importance for the origin of churches. This justifies a more detailed description within the main text. The basilica on the forum at Scolacium [250–300] was a long rectangular room, accessed from the portico, ca. 18 m by 8 m in external dimensions, with an apse set on the long back wall. Although very small in size, its shape and position make it similar to a basilica. That at Complutum [250–75], measured 29.3 m by 16.6 m. It had a conservative ambulatory design, surrounding a central nave on 4 sides, similar to Late Republican Italian models. This design was inherited from an earlier basilica, which this structure overlies, although it was entirely rebuilt. The exterior walls were revetted in white-grey and yellow marble. The interior was given a floor of opus signinum and the walls were lined with marble of ochre, ochre-yellow, and purple, including pilasters and capitals attached to the walls. The basilica at Cuicul [364–67] was an apsed hall, with a raised tribunal, without internal columns, which measured 36 m by 14 m in size, and was set in a former temple. This conversion required little modification, apart from the addition of the apse, where a subsequent governor dedicated a statue of Victory [364–67]. That at Sabratha (fig. E5c) was set inside an Early Imperial civil basilica but transformed it by adopting a single nave / two aisle plan with double apses, like the Severan Basilica of Lepcis Magna. This design replaced an ambulatory colonnade which had run around all 4 sides. The new basilica measured ca. 22.5 m by 68 m internally, had a coarse mosaic floor, a staircase to a gallery, and a raised

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apse with its own entrance, from which a presiding magistrate could appear. The building on the Forum of Theodosius at Constantinople [392–95] was a large civil basilica of the traditional kind, again taking the form seen at Lepcis Magna. We have a plausible description by Cedrenus, before it was destroyed in a fire in 461: he notes that it was 240 ft (73.15 m) long by 84 ft (25.60 m) wide, with twelve columns of Troadesian marble 25 ft (7.62 m) high, and two apses, on its eastern and western sides. This fits well with the unexcavated south side of the forum, which is bordered by what appears to be a wall faced with buttresses, beyond which the basilica might have lain. These buttresses have an inter-axial measurement of some 6.6 m, which is not far from the equivalent of that for two columns, if we use those recorded by Cedrenus set at intervals of half a column length. A group of ornamented architectural blocks, found in the 1969 excavation, may also relate to the civil basilica, including three slightly curved epistyle blocks (i.e. the bottom part of an architrave, without its frieze). These would fit an apse measuring 7.2 m across. The anachronism of this building can be explained by Theodosius’ desire to imitate the Forum of Trajan, clearly seen in his honorific column, apparently identical to that of the Forum of Arcadius, which matches that of the optimus princeps in Rome. But it is worth noting that the style of this Theodosian basilica, in following the Severan Basilica of Lepcis Magna, was far closer to the plan of contemporary early Christian churches than either the Basilica of Maxentius or the basilica-in-temple at Cuicul. The structure is thus evidence that 4th c. imperial architects could build secular basilicas if they wanted to. The small number of civil basilicas is significant, with only two examples being confirmed as substantial new builds: we are at the end of a tradition. However, when evidence of repair is considered, a very different impression emerges: the continued use and investment in civic basilicas for the 4th and early 5th c. AD. For the West, we have repairs in 21 cases from 14 sites: in Britain, at Exeter [2, extended with new ?tribunal 340–65, mortar floor 365–455], Caerwent [floor raised, 287.5–300], and Cirencester [3 floors, 300–400]; in Italy, at Aquileia [pavement of reused slabs, 379–404], Lucus Feroniae [pavement of reused slabs, 250–400], Saepinum [restoration of structure and decoration of a tribunal 357, by governors, inscr.], Saepinum [new capitals, front wall thickened, side room extended, apse, 250–410], Paestum [restoration ex fundamentis, 250– 410, by curator, inscr.], and Puteoli [unspecified works 392–94, inscr.]; at Rome (Basilica Argentaria) [internal buttresses, new pilasters, rebuilt arcaded-portico façade, 306–312], (Basilica Julia) [row of vaulted cellular tabernae, brick piers, arches for vaults, platforms added

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Civil basilica, Sabratha

to the façade, 285–303, inscr. and texts], (Basilica Julia) [restored by urban prefect 377–416, inscr.], and (Basilica Aemilia) [rebuilding 306–37, inscr.]; in Africa, at Cherchel [veneer and mosaic, 425–50], Thubursicum Numidarum (Khamissa) [restored a fundamentis 200–400, inscr.], Madauros [unspecified works 285–430, inscr.], Vaga [restored a fundamentis 376–77, inscr.], and Lepcis Magna (Ulpian Basilica) [restituit 294–312.5, inscr.]. For the East, we hear of repairs on 10 occasions at 4 sites: in Greece, at Philippi [apse added, 284–616]; in Asia Minor, at Smyrna [basilica floor 387.5–412.5, basement piers and colonnaded pedestals 250–498], Ephesus Upper Agora [repair of middle colonnade 250–516, erasure of Artemis name and crosses 400–516, tile floor area 491–516], Ephesus Hall of Nero [division of tribunal, west wall, middle colonnade rebuild 387–403], Aphrodisias [new east door and staircase 250–575, moulding trimmed in south hall and possible fountain added 300–518, mosaic, statue re-erections, new statue of governor 365–70], and Aspendos [rebuilding 250–614].46 Clearly, the distribution of repairs on civil basilicas is largely western, with provincial capitals prominent in the East but not in the West. Chronologically, the work is mainly later 3rd-early 5th c., with the peak of repairs in 375–50, just after that for new building (graphs 54–56). Only in a few places is there a chance 46  Repairs to civil basilicas: see appendices X1a and X1b.

of going beyond the early 5th c., and, with the exception of Cherchel in 425–50, these cases are uncertain. What is most striking is that in nearly all cases these repairs are designed to reinforce and embellish the traditional form of the building. Nonetheless, interpreting the function of basilicas is not straightforward, due to their traditionally mixed commercial and legal roles, both of which are attested in the 4th to 5th c. AD. The tribunals built or maintained inside these buildings suggest legal activity, as shown by apses which are added in two cases, suitable for presiding. They may have held the sessions of local magistrates such as duumvirs, or of visiting governors and their legates. However, the regional distribution of works, clearly spread beyond provincial capitals, makes it unlikely that this was the only function envisaged.47 Some repairs do relate to the tribunals, as at Saepinum and Ephesus, but a great number do not, being concerned with floors and walls. As we will see, tribunals might well stand outside of basilicas, as if the open plaza was being used to host a court. As I will argue later, there are reasons to suspect that heavy western investment in civil basilicas represents a local choice of commercial infrastructure. These structures likely now functioned mainly as covered market-space,

47  Decline / disappearance of the conventus: Lavan (2001a) chapter on administration.

Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD

as Vitruvius intended, even if they could also host a court. The decay of basilicas is a complex topic. In some regions, it seems to be an unremarkable part of the wider degradation of fora. In the West, we have sites where the basilica seems to disappear at around the same time as urban decay begins to manifest itself, or where military catastrophe has caused damage: at Complutum, the roof collapsed [408–500]; at Taracco, there was a fire followed by collapse [350–86]; at Carthage, the basilica collapsed [425–50]; at Aquileia [379–404] and Rome (Basilica Aemilia) [410] both basilicas were destroyed in fires suggestively linked by coins with enemy raids. These examples were not rebuilt, but the level of investment in civic monumental building here was now very low indeed. Carthage is no different, as despite some Vandal prosperity, almost no investment was taking place in civic building, from the time they took over. In contrast, in Asia Minor, we have two sites where basilicas collapse or are demolished / spoliated in events which affect the whole of their wider agorai, within cities that were otherwise continuing well: at Smyrna [387.5–498] and at Ephesus [491–548]. In neither Asian case can we talk of an abandonment of the civil basilica as a public building type: at Ephesus, the Hall of Nero on the Lower Agora continues to be used for judicial activity long after the destruction of the basilica on the Upper Agora. The only region where the civil basilica seems to be actively rejected as an architectural form, within continuing cities, is Britain. At Silchester, the civil basilica was given over to industry, especially metal-working for copper, iron, and pewter, already in the later 3rd c. [259–84]. At Cirencester, the basilica saw the appearance of pits [395–425], prior to collapsing / being demolished [395– 425]. At Caerwent, the civil basilica was dismantled to a ruined state, following the raising of the floor in the late 3rd c. [287.5–350]. At Exeter, the basilica was demolished, sometime after a new mortar floor was laid down [365–455 for both events]. At London, parts of the basilica may have been demolished in the late 3rd to 4th c., although here the archaeological record is fragmentary and complex. Given that the forum at Caistor seems to have been rebuilt without its basilica as early as 260–85, it seems that we are dealing with a British dislike of the civil basilica within continuing open fora, even if we can attest to at least 4 repairs to this type of structure in the same region. A more typical fate for civil basilicas was probably a change of function. At Paestum, a civil basilica of 1st c. AD date was converted into a ‘curia’, at the start of or just before our period [200–300]. At Herdonia, the civil basilica was converted into a hall of cellular ‘shops’ [200– 400]. At Ephesus, prior to demolition, the civil basilica may have been divided into cellular rooms [400–516].

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A few buildings were converted into churches in both the West on 3 occasions, and in the East on 2 occasions: at Aix probably [before 525], Sabratha [400–500], Lepcis [533–58], Cremna [313–616], and Samaria [Late Antiquity or after]. These conversions are only properly dated in the three western cases, none of which are prior to the 5th c., and at least one of which is 6th c. In contrast, the re-purposings seen at Herdonia and Paestum predate the end of the 4th c. It is these latter two sites which are most interesting. They do not support a rejection of the civil basilica in Italy, in the same manner as the British examples. In Italy, the changes again occur within the time in which cities were still recognisably monumental in appearance. Civil basilicas were still being repaired but were very rarely built anew. They were still used but were no longer fashionable. In cases of disaster, some cities might patch them up, but others were tempted to demolish them. A few city councils were bold enough to remove them. Quite what the motor was for these changes is hard to say. Was it a lower level of judicial use? Or was it because alternative sites for judicial and market activity had been found, such as street porticoes and basilicas found inside bath complexes. Either of these explanations makes for a reasonable guess, given what we know at the moment. It is not wise to over-stress the evidence for degradation / change of function. Many African fora seem to have come to an end without the basilica being touched. At a few sites, the longevity of civil basilicas was remarkable, as at Brescia in northern Italy and at Xanthos in Lycia. The lack of spoliation of basilicas here has been noted by excavators, whilst, all around them, new buildings were being constructed. There was no great rush to turn them into churches, which it was so easy to do.48 Statue Dedication and Statue Editing The use of fora / agorai as monumental spaces in the late 3rd–5th c. is further confirmed by the prolonged dedication of statues, the inscribed bases of which decorated fora in Hispania, Africa and Italy, as they did in Sardinia and Sicily.49 Elsewhere in the West, our knowledge is patchy because preservation is poorer. Nevertheless, Britain does have one forum with a surviving monument base, rebuilt in reused material, at Gloucester, associated with fragments of a bronze statue. In the East, Greece and Asia Minor have new statues bases on plazas. The North Balkan region has produced very few 48  Disuse, demolition and reuse of civil basilicas: see appendix X1d. 49  Statues in fora: see appendix K9, with foreword for Oriens in relation to the tradition of painted boards.

288 bases, perhaps due to urban landscapes there dating to a time, after the passage of Goths and Huns, when fora / agorai, and related forms of expression, ceased to be popular. Evidential problems also exist in the Levant. Here, fewer agorai have been excavated, and subsequent Islamic period occupation of cities may have dislocated fragile statue landscapes. However, the number of statue / base finds of any kind is too low, whilst all knowledge of statues on agorai comes from texts in this region. One suspects a different tradition, of painted boards, described at Antioch in relation to honours for the general Ellebichus [387] and for the family of Libanius in the same century. By contrast, in parts of Italy (e.g. Rome, Ostia, Saepinum), in Greece (Tegea), and especially in Africa and Turkey, a considerable number of agorai have well-preserved epigraphic ‘fields’. Here, late statue bases survive in situ, or almost in situ, occasionally with associated statue monuments (Pheradi Maius, Lepcis Magna, Aphrodisias), often with attachments or sculpture fragments, indicating the type of statue used, whether stone or bronze. Such sites show not only that new statues were dedicated, but also that Early Imperial statue monuments continued to be displayed, and even re-erected in Late Antiquity. Statue Monument Appearance The appearance of statue monuments is more or less difficult to reconstruct according to region, with Asia Minor and Italy containing the greatest number of late sculptures, followed by Constantinople and Greece. Africa and Hispania have produced very little. For Constantinople, we have some depictions but in most cases we rely on details coming from literary sources, dedicatory texts or attachments on the statue bases themselves. Occasionally, statue fragments associated with bases are found during excavation. These traces attest to bronze statues being present, in regions as distant as Britain (Gloucester), Africa (Cirta Constantina, Thibilis), Italy (Aquileia), and the Levant (in 3 out of the 4 statue dedications we know of are from this region). In the last case, at Antioch, a gilded bronze statue is mentioned, which only otherwise occurs at Rome and Constantinople. At Rome, they appear in the Forum Romanum with a (bronze and silver statue for Stilicho), the Forum of Caesar (with gold for Galla Placidia), and especially in the Forum of Trajan (with gold for praetorian prefects, urban prefects, and consuls). At Constantinople, statues of the sons of Constantine are believed to have been displayed in gilded bronze in their father’s forum, whilst statues of Helena, Theodosius I, and Eudoxia, in the Augusteion, seem to have been in silver. The core mythological statues of the Forum of Constantine were in bronze. Of porphyry statues on fora

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/ agorai, we have only the Tetrarchic statues on the columns behind the Western Rostra, at Rome. The reuse of statues in Late Antiquity is wellestablished, with examples of re-cutting of sculpture found on fora / agorai at Alba Fucens, Scolacium, Lepcis, Thessalonica, Athens, Corinth, Aphrodisias, and Cyrene. The reuse of bases is far more commonly-attested. They might be statue bases in secondary use or reused from some other monument: for example, altars are repurposed into statue bases at Sala in Mauretania Tingitana and at Corinth; funerary and religious bases are employed in the Forum of Caesar; column drums at Tegea; and colonnade elements at Aphrodisias. In Asia Minor, at Ephesus, Aphrodisias, and Sagalassos, late statues are raised up on composite bases, of two or three blocks, giving them greater height. They typically have upper and lower parts made of tapering blocks, which resemble isosceles triangles in their front profiles. This method of mounting bases is also occasionally seen in the West, at Thamugadi (three pieces, others have two pieces), at Sala, and at Saepinum in Italy, where comparable plinths were used. The habit is nothing new—threepiece statue monuments are known for Early Imperial dedications—but the use of non-matching elements, sometimes of very large size, makes late statue base arrangements particularly striking. The dress of statues, from the plate armour of emperors Leo and Justinian, to late togas for proconsuls or military cloaks for governors, is best left to the experts of the Oxford Last Statues of Antiquity project. So too are the attributes (objects) which different statues might carry: these ranged from the handkerchiefs or letters of appointment for governors, to the weapons and diadems carried by emperors. The painted colour on marble statues is only beginning to be addressed, being recently documented on a bust of Ariadne in Rome by Paolo Liverani, discussed with references in LSA 755 (Fig. E6a). The physical appearance of statue monuments only represents a small part of their monumental impact and function within cities. We can also consider the different subjects of statues, or their dedicants, or the way statues were arranged, rearranged, and removed during the late antique period, within the architectural space of public plazas. This is now a good deal easier to study than it was. The late statuary displays in fora / agorai are now receiving a great deal of interest, with surveys of well-preserved assemblages having been undertaken for Rome, Lepcis Magna, Thamugadi, Sufetula, Aphrodisias, and Sagalassos.50 Although I began my own study of 50  Studies of plazas with well-preserved statue bases, in Italy and Africa: Witschel (2007); Messerschmidt (2010); at Rome: Machado (2006); Weisweiler (2012); Visualising statues in the

Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD

statue monuments in the 1990s, the Oxford database now obviously provides the most significant grounds for solid conclusions. I am grateful to Bryan Ward-Perkins for his willingness to allow me to build on this model of open-access data. The subject is, however, big enough for me to present my own thoughts, and to develop spatial conclusions about statue display which are not considered in that work, building readings of primary reports and on visits to sites, where I have studied statues in different architectural settings. From this, I would assert that the forum / agora remained the most popular setting for honorific statues within cities, and that their presence can contribute substantially to the political and cultural history of fora / agorai in Late Antiquity, topics which are otherwise difficult to address, except via literary sources. New statue monuments are predominantly late 3rd to early 5th c. in date, except at Rome, where they continue to the mid-5th, or at Aphrodisias and Constantinople, where they extend into the 6th c. and early 7th c. respectively. However, we must envisage divergent histories for the ‘statue fields’ of which these new monuments were part. Some cities redeveloped their fora, as in much of Africa, reusing statue bases in adjacent walls; others abandoned civic plazas after stealing the statues but leaving the bases (as at Lepcis); many continued to display and maintain their ancient sculptures, drawing collections together for redisplay (as at Rome); a few cities rationalised the number of statues present (as at Cuicul, Aphrodisias, Sagalassos). Sometimes, one can envisage a dramatic phase of ‘final spoliation’, whereby the entirety of a ‘statue field’ was removed from a public square. This seems to have occurred at Barcelona in the early years of the 5th c. and on the Upper and Lower Agorai at Ephesus during the earlier 6th c. We might imagine statue removal happening as a result of a civic decision, following fires or earthquakes; after such catastrophes broken statues were cleared out, and new arrangements were made. It was also common for sites to see only intermittent spoliation, whereby individual monuments were removed, perhaps because they had suffered damage, as seems likely at Cuicul. In a few places, like Thamugadi or Lepcis, we see statue landscapes surviving into the 5th c. without radical replanning, at this time or later: groups and hierarchies are still visible which relate to a logic of primary display. But even here the evidence is uneven, with parts of each statue assemblage being disturbed in Antiquity, by rearrangement, spoliation, or removal. late antique forum at http://inscriptions.etc.ucla.edu/ (last accessed October 2013); at Aphrodisias: Smith (2007) which considers the west part of the south agora as well as the court of the Hadrianic Baths which opens off it; at Sagalassos: Lavan (2013a). Oxford Last Statues of Antiquity project: see www.ocla. ox.ac.uk/statues/ (last accessed October 2013).

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Thus, in what follows here, in discussing statue landscapes as they existed in Late Antiquity, I will consider the fate of older monuments, as much as those which were new.51 New Dedications Emperors predominate in the new dedications of the period, being honoured by cities / city councils or by provincial governors. In some regions, such as Hispania, Greece, or the Levant, dedications to emperors or imperial family members represent almost the entirety of late statue culture. Honours for emperors often seem to be automatic, although they can be erected in association with the concession of a special favour, such as the grant of the honorary status of metropolis to Sagalassos, under Constantius II and Constans. This event seems to have led to two statue bases being erected, to each of these emperors, on which the city proudly displayed its new title, on the Upper Agora of the city. Imperial statues enjoyed special status, as I have written on previous occasions, representing the inviolate person of the emperor, in the same way as a cult statue was believed to embody a pagan god rather than represent them. Thus, to attack an imperial statue was to attack an emperor, and to overthrow his statues was to signal a revolt. The emperor’s statue could be carried in parade and could deputise for an emperor, or convey his direct authority, as outlined in the processions chapter. Therefore, we might expect regular honours to be given to such statues, in civic ceremonies, much like those noted for honorific columns.52 When an emperor died, dedications generally ceased, but his statues were normally kept and continued to be respected: statue bases for 2nd to 3rd c. emperors survive both in Africa (Cuicul) and in Asia Minor (Sagalassos). Only a few late antique emperors were damned, with their images removed, all prior to the middle years of the 4th c. Even in such circumstances, damnatio was rarely comprehensive. We see a survival of statues of damned emperors on fora / agorai like Severus II (at Tegianum in Lucania, Lepcis in Tripolitania), and like Maxentius (at Thamugadi and at Lepcis, twice). Nevertheless, examples of successful damnationes are recorded across the empire: Singilia 51  Final spoliation: Ephesus: see comments at the start of Ephesus section in appendix K9. Thamugadi and Lepcis statue landscapes: see fig. E7b. Barcelona: 14 honorific pedestals (probably from the forum) were used to build the episcopal palace of the early years of the 5th c. and also in other contexts: Beltrán de Heredia Bercero (2009) 144 with further references in Diarte-Blasco (2012) 71. I have not been able to find dating for this and suspect it is sandwiched between phases. 52  Nature of imperial statues: Lavan (2011b). Manifestations of imperial power, displayed in public squares: Sever. creat. 6.5 (PG 56 489).

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An imperial image in colour: Paolo Liverani’s reconstruction of the Vatican Ariadne, from paint traces on her bonnet and eyes. LSA 755, late 5th to early 6th c. Photo: P. Liverani, with thanks

Barba in Hispania for a tetrarch; Forum Romanum for Maxentius and Crispus; Cuicul for Magnentius and Mustis for Maxentius; Dalmatius at Delphi. Conversely, we find a dedication for Julian being removed at Aphrodisias, although he was never damned and his statue survived on several plazas in Africa and Asia Minor. Constantine himself was recycled in one African example, as we will see below. In such cases, we might imagine that an imperial statue had just been damaged and so was replaced, without any political meaning. It is also possible that city councils did not feel they needed to have more than one statue of a deceased emperor in their collection, and so felt able to remove duplicates. In textual accounts, we see a level of pragmatism emerging, in dealing with older imperial statues on the fora of Constantinople: some were moved, some were recycled. These habits are likely to have been reflected in the provinces. The next most popular category was of statues erected to governors (fig. E6b Palmatus and Stephanus), by cities or provincial assemblies. Statues for governors / exgovernors were set up on fora in Africa (Cuicul, Lepcis) as they were in Asia Minor (Magnesia ad Meandrum, Aphrodisias, Smyrna), and in a few cities of Greece (Argos, Corinth). Dedications were often weighted towards provincial capitals. In Africa, inside the province of Tripolitania, the metropolis of Lepcis has 4, versus 1 from Sabratha alone, whereas in Numidia, the metropolis of Cirta Constantina has 1, versus 1 from Hippo Regius alone. In Achaea, the metropolis at Corinth, has

1 governor, 1 vicar of Egypt, and a collection of 4 chlamys statues, alongside various heads appropriate to governors, versus 3 bases for governors from Argos, the only type of late honorand from the city. In Asia Minor, we have 2 statues and 2 bases of governors from the agora of the metropolis of Aphrodisias, against 1 from Magnesia and 2 from Smyrna. This represents a strong, if not exclusive, concentration in provincial capitals. In Italy, in contrast, all such statues on fora are found outside of provincial capitals (5, 1 each at Pisa, Saepinum and Salernum and 2 at Palaestrina). Only at Ostia do we have a sense that a local ‘governor’, the prefect of the annona, had a direct link to a particular city, with a single statue to one official coming from the forum, and further honours known from other inscriptions found on the same site. Governors appear to have received such statues as traditional honours for merit, rather than as automatic dedications: honorands in Italy and Africa are often specified as ex-governors, meaning that they were not memorialised when they were in office. Some fora seem almost oppressively devoted to the interests of the government. In places like Tegea, Argos, and Athens (Roman Agora), whatever statues of local personalities that had been there were swept away, and bases were now erected only to honour emperors and governors. At Rome, in the Forum Romanum, the statue landscape was almost entirely monopolised by imperial family members. Otherwise, there were only monuments here for a few generals, who had married into the imperial family, and a single praetorian prefect. We might recall the Forum of Theodosius at Constantinople, where only Leo’s patron Aspar joined the images of the family of Theodosius I, on an equestrian statue within the plaza. In the Forum of Trajan at Rome, things were more generous, with only 4 statues of emperors known, versus 4 praetorian prefects, 2 consuls, 6 urban prefects, and 4 literary figures. However, away from Rome and Constantinople, imperial statues can occur alongside lesser dedications. Praetorian prefects occur in small numbers outside of imperial capitals: at Ostia, an (acting) praetorian prefect received an equestrian statue; at Lepcis Magna, a praetorian prefect and vicar and 4 generals were honoured, one of whom was also a governor; in Asia Minor, statues were set up to 2 praetorian prefects (at Assos and Sagalassos) and 1 vicar (at Aphrodisias), the vicar having local links.53 High officials were also honoured in the Augusteion at Constantinople according to the Parastaseis, (‘Galenus the quaestor, Julian the prefect and Serapio the consularis’), which is credible even if we cannot be certain about the individuals concerned.54

53  Statue dedications: see appendix K9. 54  Office holders at Constantinople: Bauer (2004).

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Aphrodisias

Tripolis ad Meandrum

Constantinople

Ephesus

Aphrodisias

0

figure e6b

Caesarea Palestinae

Ephesus

Cuicul

Rome

2m

Late antique statue monuments found with bases, from Asia Minor. Aphrodisias: Rhodopaios (pater and senator) [6th c.], Pytheas (a notable and senator) [late 5th c.], Flavius Palmatus praeses Cariae [sometime 460–535]. Tripolis ad Meandrum: Unnamed chlamys statue. Ephesus: Stephanus proconsul Asiae [ca. 410]

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Statues to civic worthies and patrons are found in their greatest numbers in Italy and Africa. In Italy, in addition to governors and former governors, we have a number of senatorial and equestrian benefactors and patrons, who were clearly not holding provincial posts during or before the time they were honoured. These include a patron-curator (normally of senatorial rank) at Suessa, a senatorial patron and an 18 year old benefactor at Palestrina, and an equestrian patron at Nola. In Africa, we have a flamen perpetuus (i.e. civic priest) and benefactor honoured at Pheradi Maius, a child (of distinguished parentage) honoured by a client at Thamugadi, and principalis of Carthage honoured at Thuburbo Maius, in recognition of financial support for the rebuilding of bath, whilst an equestrian principalis of Alexandria and benefactor was honoured at Lepcis. This does not add up to very much, considering the great number of late African statue bases. As we will see, statue bases of a duovir and then an equestrian curator of the early 4th c. were spoliated at Lepcis to produce new dedications within a few decades, perhaps revealing the comparative weakness of honours below the level of governor. Four provincial priests (sacerdotales) are known in the Severan Forum of the same city, illustrating the specific culture of honours in the provincial capital which hosted their games. In Greece, local heroes seem to have attracted a measure of attention: Athens erected a statue, in the main agora, of a philosopher who walled the city, whilst Tegea honoured Rufus the consul, who resisted against enemies. At Corinth, a local resident ex-vicar was given a monument, as patron of the city. Dedications to abstract concepts or deities personifying qualities persist into the later 4th c. Three early statues of the ‘Victory of the Augusti’ stood in African fora until the end at Thamugadi (two) and Cuicul (one), but were not replicated in new dedications on fora / agorai, except possibly at Thubursicum Numidarum, in 360–63. This is despite Victories being popular images on arches and in other forms of imperial art. Dedications of statues to Concord survive at Thamugadi, as does one to the Concord of Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus. At Aquileia, a statue of the Concord of the people of Aquileia was re-erected on the forum by a governor, sometime in 285–373. There are some indications that a cult of ‘Concord of the curia’ was also still maintained in Africa in the 4th c., which could have encouraged these retentions.55 In Asia Minor, honours of different kinds were still being made to civic Tyche during the 4th c., probably encouraged by ritual practice at Constantinople, on the Basilica Courtyard and the Strategion, which both had such statues. The survival

of the statues of Tyche can be seen at Perge (where one was erected on a street 275–300, appendix H7) and at Sagalassos, where the dedication of a prefect’s statue inside the Tychaion ca. 382 seems to have provoked an immediate reaction. Early Imperial statues to the ‘Genius of the People’ and ‘Genius of the Senate’ each appear twice on the forum at Cuicul, as do statues to the ‘Genius of the People’ and ‘Genius of the Colony’ at Thamugadi. What is more interesting is that at Lepcis, such a dedication to the ‘Genius of the Colony’ was made anew in 320–50, alongside two earlier statues of the same. These were set directly in front of the imperial cult temple of the Severan dynasty. No-one sought to disrupt this group before the plaza was abandoned. The dedication of a statue of the ‘Genius of the Roman People’ by Aurelian ‘in the rostra’ of the Forum Romanum is likely to represent the first subject for which the Column of Phocas was erected [sometime 270–75]. This monument seems to have lost its statue sometime during the mid-4th c., henceforth being known as the Palm Column / Golden Palm (on account of golden victory palms?) until rededicated to Phocas. Here, I hazard my own interpretation of disparate facts, dissected in the appendices. Maxentius erected a dedication to Mars and the Founders of the City, close to the same spot, which survived even though his own name was erased. Clearly, such dedications were still possible in the earlier 4th c., but were difficult to envisage by the second half, although they might still be left in place. As we will see, other ‘abstractʼ concepts, not obviously pagan, seem to have been the subject of statue monuments in this part of the Forum, which seems to have survived as a spiritual focus for political power to some extent into the Christian period. The survival of this phenomenon makes it a less credible that Constantine really did transfer the ‘Trojan’ Palladium statue from Rome to his Forum in the eastern capital. Here, a reference to Rome’s Trojan origins, in the company of the ‘Judgement of Paris’ statue group, would have been entirely appropriate. Inscriptions from the forum of Pompeii, praising Romulus and Aeneas, relating to statue niches, suggest that such imagery might have been commonplace in the plazas of Italian cities and Roman colonies across the West. In Constantinople, allusions to Virgil’s founding myth of Rome and the Homeric epics, would have entwined the destinies of Greece and Asia, a destiny now fulfilled in Constantineʼs city, of Trojans returned.56 So far, we have considered new statues on fora / agorai from the perspective of honorands / statue subjects. But it is also possible to study statue space from a very different viewpoint—that of the dedicants. City

55  On statues to the Concord of the Curia, see appendix L1, under Belalis Maior.

56  Pompeii, inscriptions for Romulus and Aeneas, in facade of Eumachia Building: CIL 10.808–809.

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councils / cities are recorded as dedicants of all types of statue monuments across Africa, Italy, Greece, and Asia Minor. Governors appear as dedicants in the provincial capitals of Corduba, Tarraco (provincial forum), Aquileia, Lepcis, and Corinth, and also at Athens, for the dedication of imperial statues, whilst a praetorian prefect is a dedicant for one of Arcadius at Aphrodisias. The metropolis is also a dedicant at Aphrodisias, for governors, whilst city councils seems to have played the same role at Lepcis Magna, erecting statues to sacerdotales, in a province which had a very small number of cities. Elsewhere in Africa, we do not see governors appearing regularly as dedicants. Thubursicu Numidarum is an exception: here a governor’s legate was involved in the creation of a new forum [360–63], down to the small details of arranging the transfer of statues, as the inscriptions tell us. At Ostia, the prefects of the annona dominate as dedicants in the forum, whereas at Rome urban prefects are especially prominent, although senior officials and emperors figure heavily amongst the many dedicants. Other Italian cities show greater diversity than other parts of the empire, with civic regions (twice), collegia, a patron, and a ‘citizen’ (all once), erecting statues without the council. In two cases from Africa (Cirta and Lepcis), statues were erected to honour governors on the forum of the provincial capital by other cities, attesting to the political ‘pull’ of the metropolis. Older Monuments: Persistence, Redisplay, and Editing The persistence of older statues is difficult to study, as late and early statue bases are not always published together as ‘statue base assemblages’, with maps of findspots. Epigraphers often neglect the spatial dimension of their work, and also the history of statue monuments after they were first inscribed. Sometimes, Early Imperial and late antique dedications are even published in separate catalogues. The most distinguished late antique treatments are Roueché’s Aphrodisias in Late Antiquity and the volume by Tantillo and Bigi on Leptis Magna. Una città e le sue iscrizioni in epoca tardoromana. Unfortunately, these period divisions actually impede our comprehension of how a city’s statues were experienced in Late Antiquity, by ignoring earlier statues which were still present in the 4th–6th c. AD. This somewhat distorted perspective has even entered the Oxford Last Statues of Antiquity project, which has sought to study new public statues of the period, rather than the fate of older monuments and efforts to maintain them. The ease of accessing its entries by city via its excellent database further encourages this lacuna, by omitting earlier monuments. Rather, we have to return to primary archaeological reports, mixed epigraphic catalogues, and comprehensive multi-period studies such as Zimmer’s Locus datus decreto decurionum (on

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Thamugadi and Cuicul) to achieve a more balanced perspective. At present, it is not easy to give a full overview of older statue survival, only to pick out a few examples known to me. We can note statues of Early Imperial civic figures surviving on fora / agorai, at Aquileia, at Thamugadi, at Cuicul, at Aphrodisias, and at Sagalassos.57 They were also accompanied by statues of 1st to 3rd c. emperors, in many of the same cities. At Thamugadi, we see Trajan, Sabina Augusta, Antoninus Pius, Marcus Aurelius, Caracalla, Claudius Gothicus, and Aurelian, amongst those still honoured on the forum. At Cuicul, statues remained for Hadrian, Antoninus Pius, Commodus, and Gordian III. At Sagalassos, bases dedicated to Vespasian and Caracalla were kept, along with a one for Julio-Claudian emperor. The survival of so many of these high-value statues in prominent display positions is unlikely to be entirely due to them being reused, given the absence of re-cut inscriptions, in cities where such re-cutting is common. African cities seem to offer us a glimpse of 4th to earlier 5th c. ‘statue toleration’, not available from Greece or Asia Minor. In these eastern regions, uncomfortable dedications may have been removed or repurposed during the later 5th and 6th c. In Africa, the presence of images of pagan gods is particularly striking, not as secularised works of art but as surviving primary dedications. Thus, we have statues of Mars Augustus (twice) and Hercules Augustus, both erected in the 2nd c., standing alongside a monument to Omnipotent Jupiter at Cuicul, whilst at Thamugadi we have a statue to Augustus Sol, from the late 2nd to earlier 3rd c., surviving in one corner of the forum, which will not have been abandoned until the 5th c., perhaps much later. We have some evidence of former cult statues being brought from ‘unclean places’ (likely temples) into the forum, ‘ex sordentibus locis’, a phrase known on relocated bases in baths across Italy and Africa.58 An example that

57  Survival of statues of early civic figures on fora / agorai in Late Antiquity: Aquileia: Maselli-Scotti and Zaccaria (1998) 130–34 (T. Annius Luscus and L. Manlius Acidinus, both 2nd c. BC); Thamugadi: Zimmer and Wesch-Klein (1989) T3, T4, T7, T8, T9, T10, T11, T25, T34, T40 (civic honours of last years of 2nd–early 3rd c., ca. 110, Severan / 3rd c., Severan / 3rd c., ca. 200, beginning of 3rd c., late 2nd c.); Cuicul: Zimmer and Wesch-Klein (1989) C8 and C27 (civic honours of 225 and 208–210); Aphrodisias (north agora, in front of bouleuterion): L. Claudius Diogenes Dometeinus and Claudia Antonia Tatiana, both ca. 200: Smith (1998) 66–70; Sagalassos: Lavan (2013a) pp. 321–323 with fig. 10b, nos. 6 (re-erected), 45 and NH8, all prior to Late Antiquity. 58  ‘Ex sordentibus locis’, discussion and further references: Lepelley (1994); Witschel (2007) 113–69; Roueché (2002) 538– 39; Caseau (2011b) 486; Stirling (2014) (196–114) 105.

294 uses these words is recorded in the Main Forum at Ostia, a plaza where the statue landscape seems to be substantially that of the 4th c., as Early Imperial honorands are missing. Re-displayed art works (of unknown subjects) are also known on the Forum Romanum: 7–8 bases were re-erected in front of the Basilica Julia in 377 and 4 bases in front of Basilica Aemilia in 421–39. At Aquileia, 4 bases were established for Hercules, Concord (as above), and for two unknown subjects, by a governor sometime in 285–373. At Verona, we are told that the statue redisplayed on the forum came from the capitolium in 379–83. Something similar is likely to have occurred in Asia Minor: the re-display of mythological subjects is attested along streets at Aizanoi, as it is in Constantinople. Concerning agorai, we can only note one possible statue base for Eros at Sagalassos, and one statue in the Upper Agora Nymphaeum. The plinth of the latter statue has votives attached to it, suggesting that it came originally from a sacral context. Mythological redisplay certainly occurred at Constantinople: the presence of Dodonian Zeus and Lindian Athena outside the senate of the Augusteion, likely had some similar connection to ‘authority’, although the precise meaning escapes us. There is no suggestion that this tendency to redisplay was a pagan ‘saving’ of ‘their’ statues: at Aquileia, a statue to the father of Virgil was also redisplayed in the same group as Hercules and Concord [330–410], implying that literary rather than religious values were at work, even if the phrase ‘from an unclean place’ suggests that governors responsible were Christians. That said, we should not see any intention to humiliate pagan statues: this is an isolated and likely spurious interpretation given by Eusebius for Constantine’s actions in redisplaying statues at Constantinople (Euseb. Vit. Const. 3.54–55). Even the removal of genitals, seen on some statues, as was discussed under streets, does not date from the time when cult statues were moved into new settings, but later, likely in the late 5th or 6th c. Fourth century attitudes to public nudity were somewhat different, amongst Christians as well as others: after all, swimmers in the 4th c. church mosaic of Aquileia are shown with their genitals clearly visible, whilst Constantine was happy to be depicted nude, in the heart of his capital, when his column was erected in 324–30.59 Late antique civic authorities (led by bishops from the 460s) were content for their citizens to be surrounded by reminders of classical mythology, which made up the core of ancient literary culture. Again, pace a single reference in Eusebius, and the famous statue of ‘Christ’ at Caesarea Philippi, there 59  Nudity in the first half of the 4th c., floor of cathedral at Aquileia: Marini (2003)102 (cherubs, one with visible penis), 109 (Jonah with visible penis); at Constantinople: see appendix F9 for Constantine’s statue.

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is no suggestion that statuary displays were given over to Christian themes, unlike other forms of public art. Any crosses carved on public statues (at Ephesus or Miletus) can as easily be interpreted as protections against earthquake, rather than as any form of exorcism. It seems that many, even most, Mediterranean cities probably never saw an iconoclastic civic leader across the whole period.60 The epigraphic fields we see today in Mediterranean fora / agorai are often the result of substantial ‘editing’ of 4th–5th c. date—that is, of moving and removing statues. These phenomena can be observed at sites as varied as Aquileia, Rome, Ostia, Thubursicu Numidarum, Bulla Regia (where statue bases are concentrated into the precinct of a temple of Apollo), Thamugadi (three imperial quadrigae removed), Sabratha, Aphrodisias, and Sagalassos. This ‘editing’ could involve the clearance earlier statue monuments entirely, as at Rome under Diocletian and at Sabratha in 306–362. Less radical changes also took place, as at Aphrodisias, where a number of Early Imperial statues survived a cull in the 360s, which put the vast majority of statues into the new city wall.61 Conversely, ‘editing’ could involve the re-erection of statues which had fallen, or their transfer or redisplay from contexts which they had previously belonged to. Thus, we see the re-erection of a statue of Divine Sabina, in front of the temple of Venus on the Forum of Caesar, likely in 399–400, whilst a statue of Minerva was re-erected in the Atrium Minervae, in the Forum Romanum, in 472– 73. A statue to a female Early Imperial civic notable, Ias, daughter of Krateros, was also re-erected at Sagalassos, along with two other statues. Although very rarely recorded, this practice of repairing statue monuments might be more common than we think. In the case of the Divine Sabina monument, three pieces of a broken 60  Cult statues brought from temples: Verona: CIL 5.3332 (from capitolium to forum by governor AD 379/83); Aquileia: Hercules statue re-erected by governor: AE (1996) 686a–b (with more examples possibly identified from inscriptions by Witschel (2007) 130–31); Ostia, Main Forum (statue brought ex sordentibus locis by a prefect of the annona): CIL 14.4721 = AE (1914) 159. Sagalassos (an Eros on the Upper Agora): Lavan (2013a) 325; Bulletin Épigraphique (1970) no. 605. 61   Statue editing: For Aquileia, Ostia, and Thubursicu Numidarum see appendix K9. For Bulla Regia: see Beschaouch, Hanoune and Thébert (1977) 86. For Cuicul (removal of three quadrigae, two of which may be of Septimius Severus and Commodus): see pp. 49–50 with fig. 22 and p. 39 fig. 16. For Rome: see appendices K2a and K9; for Sabratha: see appendices K2a and K4a; for Aphrodisias: the vast majority of honorific statue bases of Aphrodisias were put into the city wall of the 360s according to R.R.R. Smith pers. comm. and De Staebler (2008a and 2008b), with Smith (2007) 209–10, who notes 80 statue bases identified in the wall; for Sagalassos: see Lavan (2013a) 313, 326 (actually relating to ca. 500).

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base are held together in an ancient restoration by a series of clamps and perhaps a wooden core, which now survives in the shape of an oval cavity: this was not the casual re-erection of a fallen ornament, but the determined restoration of a prized relic from the past. Conversely, we also see the introduction of statues of well-respected Early Imperial emperors, such as Trajan, in a new forum at Thubursicu Numidarum in 360–63, and Marcus Aurelius, at Cyrene in 352–400, so that, as at Orkistos in 324–26, the city would have a ‘forum istatuis veterum principum ornatum.’ The statuary arranged at the new forum at Thubursicu also included one of Constantine, alongside two Antonine colossi, and a Victory. I also suspect that the imperial statue group displayed in the portico of the forum of Scolacium, in southern Italy, was assembled from bits taken from elsewhere, sometime in the later 3rd c. or perhaps 4th c. It is made up of three Julio-Claudian statues, of the Genius Augusti, Agrippina Minor, and Germanicus, alongside one headless togate statue of Julio-Claudian date, one headless togate statue of the Late Republican period, a Tiberian bust reworked in the ?3rd c., and a statue base dedicated to Maximinus Thrax (236–38). Such a statue assemblage, of prominent Julio-Claudians, is unparalleled in fora anywhere in the empire and thus makes one a little suspicious; even the Augustan statue group in the basilica at Ephesus was found smashed up and buried, not in situ. Did the former collection really last unscathed through three or four centuries at Scolacium, or was it placed here during a later 3rd c. rebuilding of the forum, alongside the odd statue base for Maximinus Thrax, whose memory had been damned? Perhaps a private collection had been relocated, into the portico, as part of its late rebuilding, to give the forum a stately air. We could perhaps imagine such imperial antiques being the subject of lessons held by schoolmasters, who certainly did still hold lessons in fora: perhaps Julian’s The Caesars was inspired by such experiences, in which the narrator reviewed the characters of notable emperors past, illustrated by surviving statue monuments.62

62  Examples of statuary transfer: Thubursicu Numidarum: during the restoration of forum novum under Constantius II (355– 61) and Julian (361–62) some statues were transferred here as part of the same operation, such as Trajan, Constantine, and Felicitas Augusti: see appendix K2a. Aphrodisias: the majority of honorific statue bases were put into the city wall in the 360s according to R.R.R. Smith (pers. comm.) and De Staebler (2008a) and (2008b), with Smith (2007) 209–10 observing 80 statue bases known from the wall. Thamugadi: statue editing in relation to imperial politics: bases of Carus, Diocletian, Constantius Chlorus, and Maxentius were defaced or removed according to the ups and downs of politics: Lepelley (1979) 448–51; Zimmer and Wesch-Klein (1989) 70–85. Cyrene: see appendix Q1. Orkistos: Chastagnol (1981) 386, 406–407. For

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Alongside statue re-erection, we also have some information about ‘statue wastage’. Here, I mean not the wholesale removal of large numbers of statues during a planned revision of a plaza, or an unfortunate destruction. Rather, I imply the abolition of individual statue bases and their reuse for new monuments. It is possible to study this process at only a few sites, principally Lepcis Magna, thanks to the work of Tantillo, Bigi, and others. Here, a number of statue bases have been identified, which were re-inscribed for new dedications, even when the previous dedicant had not yet faded from living memory. Whilst we cannot be sure that original honorands on such bases also had their statue monuments displayed in the forum, this seems very likely, given the nature of the honours. It is, thus, possible to get an idea of both the mobility of the statue and how long images of honorands of different ranks might realistically be displayed on a forum. This habit, seen in a small number of African cities—of cutting a new inscription on one side of a base—gives us a crude record of wastage that would not otherwise be available. At Lepcis, we see the following monuments ‘rebranded’: a base for a curator honoured in 280–320 was reused in 383–88; a priest / duovir of 300–305 was reused in 378; a governor of after 290 was reused in 379–95; a governor of 255–61 was reused in 377; a general / governor of 355–61 was reused in 377; a sacerdos of 300–350 was reused in 378. At Thubursicu Numidarum, we see a Tetrarchic base for Hercules Invictus reused in 343. At Cirta Constantina, even a base for Constantine I of 313–37 was reused for a statue of a governor in 343, as was one for Valens of 364–78 at Rome in 421–39. Some of these images only survived for 20 or 30 years, even those of emperors who had not been damned. Tantillo and Bigi have carried out a superb city-wide study of epigraphic spoliation at Lepcis, showing that the reuse of statue bases for other dedications can be traced from the 2nd c. onwards.63 In a small number of cities, an even more rapid form of statue wastage is revealed, from small modifications to dedicatory texts, when a reigning emperor / empress (without a damnatio) was replaced by their immediate successor. Perhaps the emperor had been proclaimed before a monument was completed and a dedicant did not wish to miss an opportunity to honour the man now in power. This can be observed at Aphrodisias, where Julian was substituted for Theodosius I. At Tegea, a text that honoured Caesar Constantius I was overwritten, in order to honour Caesar Constantine I. In none of these cases was a damnatio pronounced: sometimes statues found nearby honour the same emperor whose name statue moving in Late Antiquity generally: see Brandenburg (1989). Portraits of famous emperors: Julian, The Caesars. 63  Reuse of statue bases at Lepcis Magna: Tantillo and Bigi (2010).

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figure e6c

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Uninscribed composite statue base, Lower Agora of Sagalassos

was being erased. Perhaps cities and governors simply wanted to keep up to date, and not waste a statue, if they could get away with it. A more ambiguous example comes from Pheradi Maius in Africa, where a dedication for the Caesar Gallus (who was executed in 355) was updated to honour his senior colleague Constantius Augustus, by altering the title although not the name. Finally, at Sagalassos, Gratian’s wife Constantia was substituted by Eudoxia, Augusta of Arcadius. In the last case, a substantial gap occurred between the dedication in 375–83 and the rededication in 395–404, making the latter event somewhat different. It was a brazen disregard of past honours, relating to a prominent statue. Archaeological studies of fora / agorai, as at Rome (Forum of Caesar) and Sagalassos are beginning to reveal what epigraphic catalogues cannot: that there were a substantial number of blank / anepigraphic statue bases erected in the late antique period, with no inscribed dedication (fig. E6c). These instead might have been painted. The traditional red paint used to write the text is attested on fora at Singila Barba (colour unknown, 308–24) and Pheradi Maius (red, 305–306), on an agora at Aphrodisias (red, podium inscription, not statue base, 460–518), and on a base from the Ludus Magnus in Rome (colour and date unknown). Therefore, for some blank bases, we should envisage texts being painted on, with no or very little incision being made into the stone.

From Pheradi Maius, we have a piece of key evidence: a blank base covered in stucco, found with a togate statue, arranged in a line of reused statue monuments, immediately next to a late civic honorand, accompanied by bases dedicated to Constantius I, Gallus, and Valens. At Tegea, we have a similar arrangement on the agora: here a group of (between 5 to 7) reused blank bases have been found along with 3 bases / inscribed column drums to Diocletian, Caesar Constantius I Chlorus, and Caesar Constantine I. These were apparently found in situ on an agora, as the excavator noticed 4 of the bases were placed upside down. The report notes that their faces carry two or three erased inscriptions. Given wider patterns of dedications in Greece, it is highly likely that we have here a single group of imperial statues, representing emperors of the Tetrarchic period, some of whom were damned and so erased, but others only ever had a painted inscription.64 This creates a major issue for archaeological studies of late statues, as it is possible that the Early Imperial inscriptions we see on bases were once plastered and painted over with late dedications. So far, blank bases are known also at Hippo Regius (at least 2), at Ureu (3–4) [305–306], at Cuicul (at least 4, potentially many more), and especially at Rome, in the Forum of Caesar. Here, 22 blank bases were brought in, likely as part of a restoration of the agora under Nicomachus Flavianus, prefect of the city, in 399–400. A similar group of blank bases, moved for redisplay in Late Antiquity, is known at Sagalassos: a group of up to 12 bases [11+1, 355–525], was set up on the Lower Agora, mostly along the east portico steps.65 Their dating is difficult but not impossible. At Ureu, the blank bases were built into a stone kerb, along with a statue base for Augustus Constantius I, allowing the group to be dated. In the Forum of Caesar, similar styles of reworking on the 22 bases, and common aspects of their spolia origin, allowed them to be grouped together as a unified programme, associated with a dated inscribed base. At Sagalassos, the use of spolia and the availability of ceramic dating allow us to produce suggested dates. We should also note the presence of rows of late statue emplacements on fora at Nora (at least 12 holes set against 2 porticoes) and on the Upper Agora at Ephesus 64  On paint in inscriptions, all sites mentioned here have entries in appendix K9, except for Aphrodisias (appendix K7a) and for Rome, Ludus Magnus (appendix K2a, Forum of Caesar, 4th phase). 65  Archaeologically studied epigraphic landscapes with blank bases: Rome, Forum of Caesar: oral version of paper of R. Meneghini and A. Corsaro given at The Sack of Rome conference in Rome 4–6/11/2010; Ostia, Palaestra: Cicerchia and Marinucci (1992) 161, B4; Sagalassos, Lower Agora: Lavan (2013a) with blank bases on 311–13. On moving statues in the Forum Romanum: see Machado (2006) 173–85. Discussion of methodology: Lavan (2013b).

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(5 on part of 1 portico). In these last two cases, the statue bases are completely gone, but their odd arrangement, directly next to columns, or balanced on portico steps, is likely to be late. We must take seriously the possibility that more statues were dedicated in Late Antiquity than we have inscriptions for.66 In Africa at least, there is no reason to think that fora were not as full of statues, old and new, as they were in earlier centuries. Spatial Organisation: ‘Statue Landscapes’ In order to approach the visualisation of statues within public plazas we do of course need to consider their spatial configuration, and how that might have changed over time, a topic which is increasingly interesting scholars.67 Unfortunately, the recording of ‘statue landscapes’ has been inadequate to date: serious surveys have been carried out at very few sites. Where they have, this work has almost never been undertaken deliberately, as part of the excavation process, but rather has been cobbled together from surviving archival records, some of which are very poor. The perfection of such survey work must be left to the ‘epigraphic archaeologists’ of the future. This will be possible only if they are left any material to study by the activities of clearance excavators, who so often target the central monumental areas of cities. Sadly, on occasion they even remove statue bases from their archaeological context, and then ‘sort’ reused blank bases according to architectural type, as if this could be a guide to their complex history. Furthermore, traces on the paving, of where statue monuments once stood, may fade or become damaged: at Sagalassos, the traces which I recorded in 2005 were little more than calcinations and black smudges, markings that may not survive long once exposed within an archaeological park. Yet, despite my pessimism, it is possible to say something already about the spatial organisation of statues, drawing on a few well-preserved sites (see fig. E7), the stories of which are comparable, despite variations between regions and between sites in the same region. Sometimes, it is possible to identify statue groups within an agora, even if they are not found in situ, just from the thematic association of bases. Thus, we can identify groups of imperial colleagues from the Tetrarchic, Constantinian, Valentinianic, or Theodosian dynasties being displayed at different cities around the empire. Even when such bases were not found together, we can reasonably hypothesise that they did once belong together: such ‘dynastic groups’ have been found out 66  Late statue markings without bases: see appendices K4b for Ephesus and K9 for Nora. 67  See especially papers in Bauer and Witschel (2007), alongside Messerschmidt (2010), and also http://inscriptions.etc.ucla. edu/ (last accessed September 2016).

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of context within fora / agorai across Hispania, Africa, Greece, and Asia Minor, for all the major 4th c. imperial colleges. We can confirm this assumption, as comparable groups can be seen in situ or almost in situ at sites as diverse as Rome (Forum Romanum), Saepinum, Cuicul (Old Forum), Lepcis (Severan Forum), Ephesus (Temple of Hadrian), Aphrodisias (Tetrastoon), and Sagalassos (Tychaion). At Aquileia, we have a range of other statue types found in disturbed but structured groups, which suggests that their original organisation can be detected. The general patterns discernible from these sites are not very surprising. Statues are set along the edges of plazas, as at Thamugadi and Cuicul. They are rarely found in the centre, unless they are part of a monument raised up on steps, or an equestrian statue, as at Ostia. At some sites, a mixture of settings were used, as at Sagalassos, but even here, despite some use of the centre of the plaza, a setting on the edge of the plaza, or on the portico steps, was preferred. Textual sources tell us that some statues were prominently located because of their relationship to the constructor of a plaza. We have statues of emperors in this position on imperial fora. At Constantinople, we have Constantine, Theodosius, Arcadius / Theodosius II, Marcian, and Leo presiding from columns in new plazas, and Helena, Theodosius, and Anastasius set on columns in pre-existing plazas (the first two being set in the Augusteion, the last in the Forum of Theodosius). In all cases, these columns are likely to have been set at the centre of the square, although we cannot prove it. The equestrian statues of Theodosius, Arcadius, and Honorius in the Forum of Theodosius provide a clear dynastic accompaniment, to the emperor on the column. We see this also in statues of the sons of Constantine set around his column, the statues of Arcadius and Honorius under the Augusteion Column of Theodosius, or those of Theodosius III and Marcian by the Column of Arcadius, not all of which we can be sure existed. At Antioch, we are told by Malalas 13.30 that the Forum of Valens contained ‘in the middle … a very large column, on which was a statue of the Emperor Valentinian, his brother. Furthermore, … a marble statue was set up also in the senaton of the conch [to Valens?], and another seated statue in costly stone of the most sacred Emperor Valentinian, in the middle of the basilica attached to the conch.’ A similar relationship of founderstatue to plaza can be seen in a private forum at Rome, the Forum of Sibidius. This held a statue of its founder Acilius Glabrio Sibidius signo Spedius, one-time vicar of Septem Provinciae. However, this was erected by his son, several decades after his retirement / death, on the occasion of a refurbishment of the plaza. In another private forum, of Petronius Maximus, this great man of state thought it politic to dedicate a statue of his emperor,

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chapter 4

Gortyn

Tripolis ad Meandrum

Ephesus, Upper Agora

Sagalassos, Lower Agora

0

figure e6d

10m

Statue base emplacements: late groups set on porticoes: Gortyn, Ephesus, Tripolis ad Meandrum, and Sagalassos

Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD

figure e6e

299

Statue bases set on a street portico (3 examples in situ / almost in situ of a row of 8): Ephesus, Embolos, Alytarch Stoa

Valentinian III. Both of these dedications from Rome are likely to have taken a central spot in each plaza. The centres of fora / agorai did sometimes host statues unrelated to founders or to their patrons. At Cuicul, we have a large monument, for which the dedication plate is lost, that was surrounded by statues of 4th c. emperors, from Diocletian to Julian: whoever it was dedicated to could not have been their senior in rank, so it was perhaps a divine image, established under the Tetrarchy or earlier. At Sagalassos, on the Upper Agora, a group of central monuments, raised up on steps, was partially retained into Late Antiquity, one of which honoured Caracalla. A late statue monument (blank) was also erected towards the centre of the Lower Agora, unless it had been pulled out of the east portico. But this setting does not seem to be very common. On the other well-preserved plazas, it does not look like the middle of a forum or agora was encumbered by statue monuments, certainly not late additions. Admittedly, sites like Lepcis or Aphrodisias may have experienced damage to the core areas of their squares: the spoliation of the paving slabs at Lepcis mysteriously ignored the statue bases but must have disturbed them. If plaza centres

were once crowded with statues, we would expect some indications of the presence of statue monuments, like socle foundations or surface markings, but these have not been recorded at many sites. Indeed, Bauer has suggested that the entrances to plazas were popular places for late statues dedications, noting examples from the Forum Romanum and Constantinople, although I have not found this to be frequent elsewhere.67a A more common location for late statue bases was in front of buildings such as temples, where some imperial statue groups were located, as at Sala, Saepinum, Rome (Forum of Caesar), as will be discussed soon, as of course were the statues of the ‘Genius of the City’ at Lepcis. Statues were also known to stand in front of city council chambers: at Rome (multiple statues of emperors for Diocletian and Maximian, for Constantine, for Constantius II, and for members of the Valentinianic or Theodosian dynasties); at Sabratha (a governor / patron); at Iasos (praetorian prefect); at Aphrodisias (two governors); and at Antioch (Constantine I). Some 67a   Entrances / passages as locations for imperial statues at Rome and Constantinople: Bauer (1996) 363–65.

figure e7a Cuicul

64 Pedestal

63 Pedestal

62 Pedestal

0

C43 Augustus Gordian III by decurions 241

C48 Large C46 Large Pedestal Pedestal

C47 Base with Shield

C57 Remains of inscribed block

C42 Pedestal

20m

65 Base

C35 Large base with C36 dedication plate lost Heavily weathered C34 Gordian III base by decurions 242-243

C59 Lucius Verus by flamen perpetuus and equo publico ab Imperatore, 168-69

C50 governor C52 Constantine I under Sev Alex by gov 312 C52 Virtues of Divine Commodus by C53 Erased duumvir 180-192 honorand by res publica, 3rd or 4th c. C54 Undecipherable inscription C55 Frag dedication of time of Marcus Aurelius

C56 Remains of inscribed block

C68 Pedestal

C15 Genius of the Senate by aedile prob late 2nd c. to beginning of 3rd c.

C37 Divine Antoninus Pius by decurions 161-69

C38 Sabinia Tranqullina, wife of C18 Constantius I Gordian III by res publica via decree of Aug ? by ordo decurions 305-306

C19 erased emp by res publica, later 3rd or 4th c.

C67 Large base dedication plate missing C20 Unreadable

C25 Constantius I or or II Caesar by ordo 293-305 or 324-337 C44 Hadrian by C41 One of two decurions 121-22 emperors by gov and patron, ca. later 2nd C40 Pedestal to earlier 3rd c. C39 Pedestal C24 Aug Julian by ordo 361-363

C23 Maximianus Aug by gov, 286

C45 son of Augustus Maximinus Thrax, by unknown dedicant 236-238

C49 Mars Augustus and Genius of the colony by veteran, 1st quarter of 2nd c.

C22 Divine Commodus 202-203

C21 Constantius I or II Caesar by ordo 293-305 or 324-337

C13 Mars Augustus by woman at earliest at beginning of 2nd c.

C17 gov by decurions, sometime 268-230

C16 Divine Gordian by decurions shortly after 244

C12 Genius of the people by questor C14 M Aurel by prob later 2nd c. to Aedile and Duumvir 147 1st third 3rd c.

pontifex not before last decade 2nd c.

C7 Returning fortune under Septimius Severus by decurions C6 Genius of the C11 Hercules People by audile Augustus by

C10 Victory of the Augusti later 2nd c.?

C9 Concord of M Aurelius & L Verus 166-169

C8 civic honour 225

C1 Diocletian C3 Constantius I by by decurions res publica C5 Jupiter OM for prot of Sev Alex by decurions 216

C4 Jupiter OM for protection of C2 Piety of Anton P Caracalla by decurions by decurions

63 Pedestal

C58 M Aurel by flamen perpetuus & equo publico ab Imperatore, 168-69

C60 unknown honorand by civic deicant, sometime after completion of basilica under Marcus Aurelius

C33 Blank block

C32 Blank pedestal for overlifesize statue

C31 Blank pedestal for overlifesize statue

C30 Blank pedestal for overlifesize statue

C29 Blank pedestal for overlifesize statue

C28 Fides publicae by aedile prob 1st half of 2nd c.

C27 civic honour 208-210

C26 Omnipotent Jupiter, 182

C66 Div M Aurel by procurator, 161-180

Statue base distributions in fora/agorai with well-preserved late antique epigraphic fields: Aquileia, Thamugadi, Cuicul, Lepcis Magna, Aphrodisias (Tetrastoon), Sagalassos (Lower Agora), Sagalassos (Upper Agora), Ephesus (Embolos)

N

figure e7

300 chapter 4

T52 Base

T53 Base

T48 Aug Ant P by decurions 139-161

T49 Caes M Aurel by decurions, 139-161

figure e7b Thamugadi

T51 ?Concordia of ordo by decurions Early Imperial

T50 Aug Trajan by decurions 116-117

T7 Base

T7 civic honour for patron, by decurions, Severan

T30 Base

0

T31 Divine Claudius [Gothicus] in or shortly after 270

aedile by decurions, ca. later 2nd c. to 1st third of 3rd c.

T2 Base T1 Base

T18 Augustus Caracalla by decurions 198-199

20m

T22 wife of Carinus Augustus 283-285, (erased) T21 Aug M Aurel by gov M Lucceius Torquatus Bassus T19 Caes and Imp patron 168-69 designate Caracalla by governor & patron T20 Monument with four 197-98 trapezoidal bases

T23 Ant P Aug by governor 150-151

T24 Big pedestal now lost

Early imperial quadirigae (removed)

T25 civic honour by T25 Civic honour for T24 Civic honour, T33 Caes Galerius by T32 Pedestal with decurions beginning patron, after M Aur early imperial res publica 305-311 damaged inscription of 3rd c. but before 284

T3 Civic hon by prov assembly of Africa end 2nd or early 3rd c. T4 Civic honour for patron, ca. 110

T26 Aug Sol by augustalis end of 2nd to earlier 3rd c.

T5 Caesar Constantius I or II 293-305 or 324-337 T6 Divine Aurelian

T16 Julian Aug by curator and flamen perpetuus 361-363

T15 Fortune of the Augusti by decurions, time of Hadr or Ant P

T29 Divine Sabina Augusta, probably dedicated with other statues in 139

T28 Genius of colony by quaestor, 2nd to 3rd c.

T14 Base, unreadable except for ‘alae’

patron, Severan

T12 gov and patron by decurions T11 civic hon T8 Base ca. 200 227/230-235 T13 Base T9 civic honour for

T10 Base

T27 Patron by curia Commodiane, Severan

T37 Block with dedicatory plate missing

T39 Aug T40 Civic hon Maxentius by late 2nd c. colony 306-312 T38 Victory of Augusti by decurions via aedile ca. T36 Genius of the People via later 2nd c. 1st half of 3rd c.

T46 Aug Anton P by decurions, 138-161

T47 Victory of the Augusti by gov 160-62

T43 Caes M Aur by decurions, 139-161

T44 Caes Lucius Aelius by decurions 138 or shortly after

T45 Aug Ant P by gov by decurions 150-151

T42 caes M Aur by decurions, 139-140

T41 Unworked stone on column base

N

Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD

301

figure e7c

Lepcis Magna

L6 Aug Maxentius by gov

Gordian III

0

IRT 442 Aug Geta by Lepcitani Septimiani ?Erased

L83 Genius of the Colony by ordo

L83 Genius of Lepcis by the Lepcitani

L84 Genius of the Colony by Crescentia

L21 erased PP & patron by Lepcis

L8 Aug Constantius II by gov

L4 Caes FI Val Severus by Lepcitani

L19 ?Emp by Lepcitani

L13 Aug Theodosius

100m

L12 Aug Valentinian II by gov

L61 P Cornelius Saecularis Calliepius ca. 250

L43 gov & patron by Lepcimagnenses L67 Evanthius without dedicant 305-400

L18 ?Emp by VC & Lepcimagnenses

L14 Augustus Arcadius by Lepcitani

L27 V Nicomachus Flavianus, vicar of Africa, by ordo & L2 Caes Constantius I by Lepcitani populus 377 293-305

L15 Aug Honorius by Lepcitani

L65 Deusonius by ? 300-400

L29 comes of Africa by ? of Lepcis Magna 378

IRT 602 L. Pompeius Cerealis Salvianus, flamen, by wife & heiress Late 2nd to 3rd c.

L5 Aug Maxentius by vicar of Africa 307-308

L32 governor of Tripolitania and patron, ca. 303

L49 (Equestrian) Patron by Ordo 250-80

L58 sacerdos of province & duovir by ordo & populus 303-50

IRT 817 Frag inscr. 3rd c. ?

L37 ex-governor & patron by ordo & populus 303-400

L3 Augs Constantius L11 Aug Gratian by I and Galerius by Lepcitani. Dated to Lepcitani A.D. 367-83 L31 Comes & dux by ordo & populus L23 ex proconsular gov of 408-423 Africa and imperial appeal L30 VC comes & dux judge 378 and patron of Lepcis by ord0 & populus: L7 Aug Constantius II 393-423 and Caesar Const Gallus (latter erased) 352-54

IRT 640 Valens and Valentinian by vicar of Africa 364-67

L10 Aug Valens or Valentinian I by vicar of Africa 364-67

L9 Aug Valentinian I or Valens by vicar of Africa 364-67

IRT 455 Aug Gordian III by unknown dedicant

L60 Envoy & flamen perpetuus & sacerdos by ordo 383-388

L64 Anthius by ? 300-400

L42 governor by ordo 378

IRT 532 Q. Granius Caelestinus by ? 2nd-early 3rd c.

L38 governor & patron by people 320-60

L33 governor by ordo & populus 324-26

L26 VC, vicar of Africa by ordo & populus ?364-67

L54 TF Frontinus Heraclius, vp, sacerdos & duovir by O & P 300-50

L56 TF Vibianus Heraclius, vp, sacerdos of province & curator by ordo & populus: 303-50

302 chapter 4

303

Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD

A1 Hercules, reerected by governor Theodulus 285-373, in 3 frags

A3 Base to statue re/erected by governor Theodulus 285-373 A4 Base to T Annius T F, 2nd c. BC A5 Column with [---]PRIMARIS[---]

A10 Marble revetment frag with two letters A12 Imago clipeata of Minerva

A8 Republican marble block with inscription ]i L Tulliu[s

A7 Christian funerary

inscription, frag A2 Frag inscribed [---]MPEI[---] A11 Reused base with A6 Inscribed marble dedication to V(eneri) slab, frag C(caelesti) resued as paving [---]SAUF / [---]CREV[---]

Also found on square: A13 Base to Quintus Axilius Urbicus, patron, perfectissimus, magistro sacrarum cognitionum, a studiis et a consiliis Augg., by decurions. Mid-3rd to earlier 4th c. A14 Base to Concordia reerected by governor Theodulus 286-373.

A9 Publius Valerius Maro, supposed father of the poet Virgil, no dedicant, reused base

0

100m

figure e7d Aquileia

ALA64 Governor, honoured in verse, a native of the city who ‘drove out city-destroying civil strife’ by an unknown dedicant ALA21 Valens by Antonius Tatianus, governor 364

ALA20 Julian by Antonius Tatianus, governor 363

ALA62 Flavius Palmatus, acting vicar of Asia, by Flavius Atheneus, clarissimus pater (460-535)

Also found on plaza: ALA41Dulcitius (governor) by Valerianus, the princeps of his officium A.D. 460-518 ALA64 Vitianus, praetorian prefect of the East by the metropolis A.D. 460-518 Both found reused / associated with fortification wall built across stage building of theatre behind the portico

0

figure e7e

Aphrodisias (Tetrastoon)

50m

304

chapter 4 N

75Agonistic & 76Agonistic(2) Stairway

84Agonistic

118frag

35H

74Agonistic

R 7H

Blank L1

78Agonistic (reused but fallen out of wall)

40H

R

L2/Blank

L3

L23

L10/Blank L7/Blank L13 L15/Blank

L4 L8

L22

R

L9/NH7

8H

L21/66

51H 38H L16 L11

50H R

L18 L19/NH21 L17/Blank Stairway

15H R

NH15 122Frag Blank

Statue base element (pedestal, base, shaft, block or crown of honorific monument)

NH16

25H

Statue base emplacement marking

Column emplacement marking R

Reused blocks Approximate location of statue base find spot (centre of grid square)

Stairway

Blank Blank statue base element that would normally be inscribed

0

figure e7f

Sagalassos (Lower Agora)

10m

305

Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD 24H R

NH10 27H

26H

36H 37H

100Signature

99Signature

12 H

N

106RD Asclepius

41H

11H 39H

105RD NH9Caligula?

16H SI Frontius Proconsul

55H Vespasian 45H

Blank 62H Caracalla

Blank

Blank

NH8H

Blank

68H Constantius II

69H Constantius II

No inscription but decorated

Recessed area Statue base find spot

1

Approximate location of statue base find spot (centre of grid square) Blank = Blank statue base element that would normally be inscribed

Inscriptions Statue base emplacement marking Column emplacement marking

Blank

12aH 71H Valentinian II

70H Gratian

Tychaion 6H las 72H Fl. Eudoxia 0

figure e7g

Sagalassos (Upper Agora)

10m

306

chapter 4 E11 Victory, reused

E11 Victory, reused

E9 Victory, reused

E7 Victory, reused

E5 Victory, reused

E3 Victory, reused E1 Alexander doctor by boule & demos

E12 Victory, reused

E10 Victory, reused E8 Victory, E6 Victory, E4 Augusta Aelia reused reused by boule & demos

E15 Equestrian Statue Base

E2 Victory, reused

E23 Theodosius father of Theodosius I by the proconsul Nummius Aemilianus Dexter 378-87

E28 Isidore former proc 410-36

E22 Galerius Caesar

E26 Theodosius Proc no dedicant 410-36 E33 Probus proc by unknown 410-36

E36 Pedestal

E24 Diocletian Aug Tetrarchic bases brought here by the E15 Constantius I Cae proconsul Junius Tiberianus 293-303 Perhaps brought here in 410-36 ?

E35 Stephanus gov by the city of Ephesus 410-36 E36 Pedestal E37 Blank base

E31 Base Emplacement

E32 Base Emplacement

E34 Messalinus proc by boule 410-36

100m

0

1

N

2

7

3

4

14

5 8 9

6

10 11 12

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

15

Tetragonal (lower) Agora South Gate of Tetragonal Agora Library of Celsus Round Building Altar Gate of Hadrian Insula M01 Kuretes Stoa Haroon Octagon Nymphaeum Hellenistic Fountain Hanghaus Baths of Scholasticia (of Varus) Hadrianstempel Alytarch Stoa Hanghaus 1 Nymphaeum of Trajan Gate of Heracles Hydreion Memmius Building

16

18 13

E18 Governor Damocharis, dedicated by the guild of moneychangers 298-614, on lower paving level than 410-36

17 E19-21 2 pedestals of same style as Damocharis and 1 thin block, in front of columns

19

0

100m

E16 Diocletian by rationalis 286-305 E17 Maximian by rationalis 286-305

figure e7h

Ephesus (Embolos)

20

21

Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD

statues are set in front of porticoes, on the plaza, but essentially around its edge: as at Cuicul, Thamugadi, and Lepcis, in a manner that recalls earlier statue dedications from sites like Pompeii, Thasos, or Kaunos. At both Thamugadi and Cuicul, it is clear that the use of a plaza-edge position represented continuity with the practice of earlier centuries. Other bases were set inside porticoes, as were some at Thamugadi, Lepcis, and on the north agora of Aphrodisias. Perhaps the most characteristic ‘late antique’ setting for statue bases was as a line of monuments balanced on portico steps, directly in front of and touching columns, as we have seen in late statue arrangements for streets at Gortyn, Ephesus (fig. E6e), and Tripolis ad Meandrum. This technique of displaying statues was something of an innovation, previous generations having preferred to set statues on the agora paving proper. The new arrangement can be observed in Asia Minor, at Aphrodisias (Tetrastoon), at Ephesus (Upper Agora), and at Sagalassos (Lower Agora, on two porticoes), where statue monuments were balanced on portico steps, using supporting blocks (fig. E6c and E6d). It is also visible at Cuicul, on the south side of the forum. At both Cuicul and Sagalassos, there was an attempt to produce a certain symmetry in the placing of the statue bases on the steps, with the larger bases towards the centre of the group, necessitating some cutting-out on stairs on each portico. At Ostia and Rome (Forum of Caesar), efforts to cut hollows out of statue bases, to fit a step or the curve of a column, reveal a similar arrangement. We can also suspect that the statues of re-erected art works, at the Basilica Aemilia and Basilica Julia, might have directly decorated the façades of both buildings, in the same ‘attached’ manner. Often, all that remains of such distinctive statue arrangements is a smudge on the portico, or a missing step. We must therefore make the most of sites like Sagalassos (or Tripolis ad Meandrum for streets), where exceptional preservation reveals statue bases with clamps or mounting blocks set on the steps, both used to hold pedestals in place. Within this spatial information, we can see a degree of thematic zoning, as parts of fora / agorai were used for different kinds of statues, in terms of dedicants or honorands (fig. E7a–f, featuring a selection of sites). At Rome, there seems to be a clear dedication area used by emperors, in the Forum of Trajan, where they are presented as initiators of honours, rather than relying on the urban prefect. Officials (rationales, curatores of aqueducts, of the banks of the Tiber, of the sacred buildings) also had an identifiable area where they put up monuments, mixed with the Senate and People of Rome. This was in the north-western corner of the Roman Forum, by the Senate House. In contrast, urban prefects can be seen as dedicants across the whole of

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the plaza, although they too concentrated their dedications to emperors in front of the Senate / by the Arch of Septimius Severus. This was a place of high emotion within the political topography of plaza, as it had been since the foundation of the city. Similarly, Lepcis has an area in the north-east part of the Severan Forum, where governors or vicars were particularly active, whereas the east portico is dominated by dedications of the city as a whole. One can imagine connected statue dedications, and perhaps anniversary ceremonies, endowing part of each forum with a sense of belonging, for the staff of officials who erected such images. It might have felt something like a war memorial in a modern city, where the ashes of old soldiers are left by comrades. In the Forum of Trajan at least, an effort was made by associates or descendants of two disgraced praetorian prefects to have their memory rehabilitated. Statues were reinstated on the plaza, as dedications record: for Flavius Taurus (disgraced in 361, statue rededicated 364–67) and for Nicomachus Flavianus (disgraced 394, statue dedicated in 431), the latter through his grandson, although dedicated by the emperors. Thematic zoning is more obvious in terms of honorands, i.e. of statue subjects, something which would likely be more noticed by ancient viewers, just as it attracts most attention from scholars today. At Rome and a few other sites, we know precisely where such groups were set, not just that they could be found somewhere in the plaza. Rome is of course special, as the capital of the West, but also because it gives us a well-preserved statue landscape that is missing for Constantinople. Although it is tempting to believe that the two cities might have been vastly different, we should remember that the biggest difference between them is in the nature of the evidence, archaeological and epigraphic at Rome, textual at Constantinople, with the latter producing records almost exclusively of honorands, not dedicants. At Rome, the use of the Forum of Trajan for specialised honours to praetorian and urban prefects and leading literary scholars, has been described. Statue groups of specific imperial colleges can be detected around the Forum Romanum, just as they were elsewhere in the empire. Constantius was given three apparently identical statues at the time of his visit to Rome outside of the Senate, whilst co-rulers Valentinian I and Valens were honoured with statues at the same spot. Within the Severan Forum at Lepcis, we can see a group of emperors of the Theodosian college set on the south edge of the plaza, in front of the portico; at Pheradi Maius there is a spatial separation between imperial and municipal statues, on the west and south sides of the forum; at Sagalassos, late emperors form clusters, with Constantius II and Constans being honoured with identical statue bases at the centre of the east side of the

308 Upper Agora, and the Valentinianic-Theodosian dynasty being honoured in 4 dedications at the centre of the south side. Lepcis has produced concentrated groups of governors, provincial priests, and generals, in different parts of its forum, just as a statue of the Genius stood before the temple. Rome also has a possible grouping of ‘Gods and abstract concepts’ in the Forum Romanum, just east of the Western Rostra. Here, were set not only Aurelian’s statue to the ‘Genius of the Roman People’ and Maxentius’ statue to Mars and the founders of the city, but also an unusual statue to the Fides and Virtus of the emperors’ soldiers [from AD 406]. In the same area also stood an old statue of Marsyas, symbol of liberty, shown on the 2nd c. reliefs of the Anaglypha Traiani, reerected here in Late Antiquity. This ‘zone’ seems less odd when one considers that in the same area of the Forum, the mystical Lacus Curtius continued to exist, next to the Lapis Niger, the Umbilicus Urbis, and the Vulcanal, where a gate to Hades had once been recognised. A degree of ‘zoning’ can also be seen in the organisation of antiquarian collections, whereby parts of public plazas were either given a collection of statues as works of art or were reorganised to present older statues in a coherent manner, reflecting their cultural value at the moment of reorganisation, rather than their status when they were dedicated. It is self-evident in the case of some relocated statues, where we can know that they have been drawn together and set up in a particular part of a plaza. This is the case in decorating one of the basilicas of the Forum Romanum. But we should also consider that the antiquarian collection and rearrangement of statue monuments could be small-scale, involving a few honorific statues, perhaps sourced from within a plaza. Thus, a line of bases on the east side of the forum of Cuicul looks rather too unified to represent a gradual accumulation of statues, given that they are chronologically jumbled. I suspect that they might have been set in this position, in a single act, sometime after the last statue in the group was erected, to Gordian III. Certainly, a new display of late statues was planned along the south side of the plaza of this forum. At Sagalassos, the grouping of honours for early emperors, at the north end of the plaza, and especially civic figures, set inside a nymphaeum where they do not fit, can more obviously be attributed to late antique movements. Thus, whenever we see structured statue display involving monuments of very different date, we should suspect that a late antique ‘statue-editor’ has been at work. It seems that statues are more usually planned in small groups when first dedicated and tend to aim for prominent / meaningful positions rather than being set within a visually egalitarian ‘series’. The latter arrangement, popular in Late Antiquity, does more to decorate a plaza than to honour an individual.

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Therefore, by considering the nature of new dedications alongside the treatment of existing statue monuments, we can see a good deal of evidence for the use of the open plazas of fora / agorai as settings for both political representation and art. Old statues were often appreciated and new monuments were meaningfully arranged. Major changes were not necessarily made when dedications stopped in the mid-5th c., and, in the East, statue care continued. This information allows us to extend to the open plazas some of the monumental investment seen in the porticoes and entrances of the period. Yet, in summarising evidence for repair and new building, I do not intend to claim that nothing had changed. As we will see, there are examples of the decay of fora in the West during the 4th and 5th c., especially from smaller cities. Furthermore, it seems that civic squares had become redundant in the fortified cities emerging on the Danube or in northern Gaul at this time. In the East, there are also some examples of cities with at least one of their agorai going out of use in the late 4th or 5th c., as was the case at Thessalonica, Troy, Hierapolis, Iasos, Xanthos, Petra, and Cyrene. Nevertheless, it appears that for the 4th and 5th c., the extent of decay has been exaggerated, by focusing too heavily on evidence for abandonment, especially on sites which have impressive dated sequences, as in northern Italy, where the disappearance of fora was usually part of much broader urban change, even urban decay. But in all regions, except Gaul and along the northern frontier, examples of the decay of fora / agorai are just a small part of a broader picture in which there is widespread evidence for repair. This continued in the West, into the second quarter of the 5th c., with some occupation going beyond this time, whilst in the East repair work was to carry on into the 6th c. The Functions of Fora / Agorai and Associated Buildings What were the functions of fora / agorai, in the 4th and 5th c.? Did they resemble those of the Early Imperial period? Surprisingly, archaeologists have contributed little to this debate, despite innumerable excavations. This is partly because most sites have been badly dug, but it is also because of the nature of the evidence. Only occasionally has artefactual evidence relating to function been recovered. Furthermore, repairs to architectural elements such as porticoes, paving, and entrances tell us only that civic plazas continued to serve as monumental public spaces and do not provide much information about specific human activities. Nevertheless, statue dedications, as well as repairs to public buildings and shops, shed light on political and commercial activity in agorai.

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Political Life Civic Politics and the Curia / Bouleuterion It could be said that politics provided the biggest raison d’être for maintaining a square rather than a wide street. A street is capable of acting both as an informal meeting place and as a commercial centre, but squares allow large numbers of people to gather and to observe each other arranged ritually—that is, for static public ceremonies to take place. Thus, it is no surprise that, in both East and West, civic political buildings were traditionally located within and beside large civic squares. Significantly, city council chambers continued to be repaired in Africa, Greece, and Turkey during the 4th and early 5th c. This chimes with textual evidence, which I will discuss in another publication, revealing that councils continued their meetings up to the mid 5th c. in many Mediterranean cities. These were often open sessions, which the public might attend, at which local business was decided by influence, acclamatory votes, or the orders of governors. It was a place for organising local services, proclaiming honours, registering property, settling minor disputes, and arranging tax collection. It was also a setting for displaying hierarchy: the ten leading councillors (decemprimi / principales) enjoyed a privileged position in terms of speaking and decisionmaking, yet were often overshadowed by exempt honorati, such as locally-based senators of Rome and Constantinople, who could attend the meetings seated, whilst everyone else stood. Many councils now struggled to make up the numbers, but there seems to have been no terminal crisis before the middle years of the 5th c., after which a new organisation of civic government emerged. It was based on a wider alliance of notables, including local honorati, led by bishops, which first began in the East. However, these are all themes that go beyond the scope of this work. They relate only tangentially to the history of fora / agorai. For this book, we should focus on the physical reality of council buildings, evidence of which is far more widely spread than that for the activities they held, which is limited to legal sources, anecdotes from 4th c. Antioch, and minutes surviving from Egypt. A major problem is that we not certain where the councils of notables met, if they met at all, from the 460s onwards. A text from Mopsuestia in Cilicia from 550, providing minutes of such a meeting, suggests that they gathered in the audience hall of bishops. An imperial letter to notables of Hadrianopolis in Paphlagonia, of the time of Justin I or Justinian, was published in the same type of room (sekreton).68 But no-one has ever identified an institutional presence for the notables in a building, 68  Audience hall of bishops, as meeting place of notables: Mansi 9.275 90 (Mopsuestia AD 550); Feissel and Kaygusuz (1985)

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ecclesiastical or otherwise, despite traces of their public acts being very visible in the epigraphy and archaeology of later 5th to 6th c. cities. For this reason, we must limit ourselves here to the traces of the political meetings of the curiae / boule, prior to the difficulties of the mid5th c., via traces of repair and new building to council chambers (Map 13a). These meetings were set within an architectural tradition which was around 1,000 years old in some parts of the Mediterranean, by this time. In the West, curiae were rebuilt at 5 sites: at Rome entirely [285–95, text and arch], and at Sabratha [364–75 arch & inscr.], according to archaeology and according to inscriptions at Lambaesis [379–83 inscr.], Belalis Maior [rebuilt 326–31 arch and inscr.], Mididi [rebuilt 293–94 inscr.]. Repairs to curia buildings are known on 9 occasions at 7 sites: at Exeter [extended, 340–65], Grumentum [pavement 300–425], Scholacium [square apse and mosaic 250–300, podium 300–400], Tiddis [partly rebuilt 250–429], Leges Maiores [restored 350– 400, inscr.], and possibly Vallis [408–23 inscr. verb not clear], as was the curia in Rome, which was repaired twice [367–84, 412]. Just prior to our period, there are also two further rebuildings: in Hispania, of a possible curia / assembly room at Complutum [250–75] and, in Africa, of a curia at Pupput [restoration commemorated in 282, inscr.]. Whilst Africa sees most repairs, the rest of the distribution is widely spread, across Britain, Hispania, and Suburbicarian Italy, with Gaul and Pannonia being absent.69 In the East, new curia / bouleuteria were rebuilt on 4 occasions at 3 sites. This occurred at Constantinople, in the Augusteion [324–61, text] and the Forum of Constantine [324–30 text], the first of them being rebuilt again in 414 after a fire in 404 [text]. At Antioch, the ‘Psephion’ (voting place), which seems to match other descriptions of the city’s bouleuterion, was rebuilt sometime in 408–33 [text]. Cities below this level show no sign of new building. However, repairs to bouleuteria-odea are more widely spread, though they are especially concentrated in the Aegean, occurring at 4 sites: at Athens [partial rebuilding 395–420], Sicyon [250–614, water tanks added], Nysa [vestibule added and stage wall repaired 250–614] (fig. E8A), and Ephesus [250–614, expanded, new roof, orchestra pit created, two new doors, possible new façade]. In Cyrenaica, the bouleuterion at Cyrene may also have been repaired in the late period, with re-planned seats [250–400], although Temple E6 on the same agora was fitted with a U-shaped mosaic, reminiscent of the seating plan of a western

(imperial letter to notables published in a secreton of bishop of Hadrianopolis, Paphlagonia under Justin I or Justinian). 69  City council chambers, the West: see appendix L1.

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figure E8A

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Bouleuterion of Nysa, showing repair to stage wall in reused blocks

curia [352–400].70 Traditional square classical bouleuteria were rebuilt at Megalopolis in Greece [300–500] and repaired at Heracleia am Latmos [250–614] in Asia Minor, both so far not closely dated. This again is a broad distribution. No major region is absent, except the northern Balkans. Admittedly, Philippi has a repair to its curia which is loosely dated to the 6th c., on very slight evidence. It will not be included here.71 In chronological terms, repair work on city council chambers, sometimes done as part of wider works on fora/agorai, shows no sign of fading before the mid5th c. A peak in repair plus new building even occurs in 400–425 (graph 45a), which includes sites outside of the capitals. Examples of the decay of council chambers are also attested, but only the bouleuterion of Sagalassos has produced early dated evidence for structural decay, being spoliated for a city wall in 383–408. However, the 70  This is not the place to discuss the bouleuterion-odeon issue. I hold that ‘odea’ built on agorai are best primarily described as bouleuteria, unless there is a strong argument to the contrary. See Balty (1991) and Machatschek and Schwartz (1981) 51 for a list of odea-type structures built over the site of bouleuteria, as was the case in the Athenian Agora. 71  City council chambers, the East: see appendix L2.

significance of this transformation should not be overstated: it was not converted in to a church until the 6th c., and political meetings are attested in the nearby odeon, from late acclamations. Sagalassos is in fact the only eastern bouleuterion to show decay in the 5th c. Other examples are known that are generically dated to Late Antiquity: from Aizanoi and Ptolemais, both with bouleuteria-odea converted to aquatic spectacles, from Selge, where the building was converted into a church, and from Seleuceia-Lyrbe, where the building seems to have been transformed into a row of shops. Evidence for decay does exist from the West, but it is not especially significant, as it relates either to cities which failed in the 3rd c., or to cities which experienced radical change in the 5th c. We cannot identify examples of western curiae being abandoned or converted within a period where the rest of their cities remained relatively prosperous.72 The architectural form supported by ex-novo construction or repairs is somewhat different. Of new constructions (fig. E8b–c), the Roman curia, as rebuilt by Diocletian and Maximian, closely imitated that completed by Augustus: so closely that it famously has 72  City council chambers, disuse: see appendix L3.

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Figure E8b-c Curiae constructed in Late Antiquity: Rome (Secretarium, ‘Atrium Minervae’, Curia Senatus from a 16th c. drawing) and Sabratha

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figure E8d

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The curia of Sabratha, rebuilt in 364–67, showing the interior, with the bottom step added sometime within 364–442

the potential to confuse the amateur observer. That at Sabratha, although a more radical rebuild, presents nothing surprising in its plan, of a rectangular hall with forecourt, and horseshoe seating. Only the ‘acoustic niches’ provided in the upper walls perhaps represent anything unusual. Ashlar-plastering is of course attested on the front exterior at Rome, evoking the materials of an earlier age. It perhaps inspired a fashion elsewhere: plaster at Sabratha was also found on the exterior, around the door, where it was again cut to resemble ashlar, as was plaster on the late façade of the bouleuterion at Ephesus. In contrast, the two new curiae at Constantinople suggest a break with the past: both of them had great pedimental porches in the manner of temples, with 4 frontal columns, in one case of porphyry. This gives their respective plazas the aspect of Roman imperial fora, in the presence only of porticoes. That on the Forum of Constantine was even more adventurous, adopting a rotunda form behind its porch, in the manner of the Pantheon. Repairs, in contrast, were more conservative, either preserving their plan entirely or introducing slight modifications, such as the suppression of a vestibule at Megalopolis. Ephesus is exceptional: we

seem to have a development of an entertainment function of the building. Architectural features are only known for a few sites. The presence of a new rectangular apse and a podium at Scolacium suggests an emphasis on a presiding magistrate, with Rome and Sabratha also having podia inside, set facing the main entrance (fig. E8d). A similar arrangement can be seen at Caerwent, in Wales, where foundation slots for wooden benches were cut into the floor of the basilica, as part of its last, not closely dated phase, on two sides of a room, whilst four stone bases supported a dais at the end, opposite the door. At Sabratha, an extra 4th step was added to the seating, in a second late phase: this was perhaps intended to honour the decemprimi / principales, above other members of the curia. We can assume that wooden seats were set onto these steps, as in earlier days for the Senate. By the 4th c., these may have been reserved for honorati, exempt from curial service but still playing a role, if remarks by Libanius can be relied upon. Members of the public also seem to have been present: with some groups being excluded from meetings at Alexandria in the early 5th c. The contrast between those in civic dress (togas

Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD

/ himatia) and those in imperial cloaks would have been marked. In the presence of the governor, sometimes known to chair meetings in place of the curator or prytanis, the scene would not have been dissimilar to a law court. The discussion of these behavioural details will be covered in another publication. The internal decoration of city council chambers is best attested at Rome, where a marble revetment was present inside the chamber, on the lower parts of the walls, in pavonazzetto and white marble, whilst on the floor of the chamber is an axial opus sectile carpet, exceptionally fine, of one extensive pattern of geometric ornament, with some vegetal motifs in mixed coloured marbles, including giallo antico, serpentino, and porphyry. The step-benches and podium were also revetted, whilst pavonazzetto marble was added to the lower part of the external façade, for the socle. The ceiling seems to have been gilded. At Sabratha, the podium was revetted in cippolino, the steps were covered in a revetment of unknown marble, whilst the floor was paved in reused slabs, and the walls above the revetment were decorated with plaster. From Constantinople, we hear a few details of the Senate on the Augusteion, that it was adorned with colourful marbles, of types that were no longer quarried in Zosimus’ day. The Senate on the Forum of Constantine was decorated with mosaics and plaques of precious marble and had bronze doors featuring a gigantomachy. At other sites, internal late decoration leaves no trace. We have only inscriptions known to have decorated the curia at Thamugadi, which included a membership list (album) of the curia, alongside a roll of honour (ordo salutationis) prescribing in what order the dignitaries of the city ought to greet the governor, as well as a decree on the nature of prisons. One might expect similar monumental texts, in marble or bronze, to have decorated city council chambers elsewhere.73 The statue decoration of city council chambers in Late Antiquity still reflects a core preoccupation with government, in the few cases where we have information. At Rome, Victory, the protective goddess of the State’s military might, retained her central spot on the podium facing the front door of the Curia, in a position that recalled a cult statue in a temple, where it received honours from 73  Thamugadi inscriptions, Album: A. Chastagnol, L’album municipal de Timgad (Bonn 1978); Ordo salutationis: A. Chastagnol, L’album municipal de Timgad (Bonn 1978) 75–88 replacing earlier editions = CIL 8.17896 = M.A. Poulle “Nouvelles inscriptions de Thimgad, de Lambese et de Marcouna”, Recueil de Constantine (1882) 401–406 (found against the north wall of the curia); Decree on prisons (on same type of marble and in same inscription style as the ordo): CIL 8.17897 = Poulle 402– 403 (found in the forum with 8.17896) = Ephemeris Epigraphica 5 (1884) 550; Lep. 458. The find-spots come from CIL.

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an altar until the later 4th c. At Sabratha, a central niche in the rear wall, aligned with the front door, might also have housed a civic Tyche or a protective deity. Statues of Victory almost certainly adorned the roof parapet of the Roman curia, as they had in Augustan times. Niches in the side walls at Rome (three on each side) might have held images of the tutelary gods of Diocletian and Maximian (Jupiter and Hercules), whose imperial portrait statues stood in front of the Curia. The Senate on the Augusteion in Constantinople was decorated with statues of Zeus of Dodona and Athena of Lindos, on stone bases outside the building. Inside were found statues of the Muses of Mt. Helicon, along with statues of the chief of the Tervingi, father of Athanaric, set up by Constantine [324–37], and then statues of Theodosius I, his Augusta Aelia Flacilla, and his son Arcadius [383–86]. Probably after the rebuilding of the structure, Honorius and Theodosius II Augusti, along with Pulcheria Augusta, were also honoured here [414]. At Sabratha, statue bases found inside the curia honoured Valentinian and Valens dedicated by Antonius Dracontius, vicar of Africa [364–67]. Lesser individuals honoured inside council chambers included restorers of these buildings and those of great merit outside the imperial family. At Constantinople, the statues of Honorius, Theodosius, and Pulcheria, were accompanied by that of the praetorian prefect Aurelian [414], in gilded bronze. It seems very likely that he had been responsible for the rebuilding of the structure at that time, after the fire of 404. At Lambaesis, the recovery of a statue base from the forum, describing works on the curia, suggests that the curator Rufus was honoured as the man who had accomplished this [379–83]. At Sabratha, a statue base, erected in the entrance courtyard, was found in situ, directly in front of the entrance to the senate chamber: this honoured L. Aemilius Quintus flamen perpetuus, by the ordo and populus of Sabratha, on the decree of the whole province, in thanks for obtaining a remedy for the misfortunes of the province from the emperor [383–88]. At Antioch, we hear that ancestors of Libanius were honoured in painted portraits in the bouleuterion (in a region which neglected to use statuary), a distinction which the great orator was peeved not to have been granted. Otherwise, we do not hear of dedications to civic notables. From Aphrodisias, there is a dedication on a marble base to an unknown subject by Antonius Priscus, praeses of Caria [388–92], and also a statue of the demos, which was moved to its final setting in the bouleuterion during Late Antiquity. This reminds one of statues of demos by Lyson, set alongside one of Zeus Counsellor, attested by Pausanias at Athens in the bouleuterion. Similarly, statue bases, one for demos and one for ‘Sagalassos’, were found within the

314 bouleuterion at Sagalassos, never having been removed from the building. These images would have overshadowed 4th c. meetings in the complex, and likely in many other cities of Greek tradition.74 At some sites, the political buildings found on fora / agorai went beyond a single building, providing a suite of public offices, even if we know that this was rare. At Athens, this had long been the case: next to the bouleuterion stood the round Tholos, which was used as a dining room for civic guests, and also the Metroon, which housed the sanctuary of the Mother of the Gods / Cybele, as well as civic archives. Both of these structures were repaired in Late Antiquity, with the Tholos being reinforced by a ring of concrete around the exterior, and its interior being covered with marble slabs [275–412.5]. The Metroon was re-planned, to a basilical shape but with the nave open to the sky [395–420]. The presence of a colossal statue of Apollo Patroos, found inside the doorway, suggests that some religious rites may have continued, with no obvious evidence of Christianisation. Civic archives were no longer stored here, according to Julian, but he makes no further comment. The Tholos was destroyed sometime in 395–420, but when the agora was rebuilt on a smaller scale. During the same date range, a ‘round building’ of very similar dimensions to the Tholos was constructed on the reduced plaza, which may represent a replacement for it. At Rome, a number of ancillary structures to the Curia also existed, notably the Atrium Minervae (where some late laws were posted) and the Secretarium Senatus (a judgement hall). The physical nature of these structures is the subject of considerable controversy and is explained in detail in the appendices. The buildings best related to these structures, drawn hundreds of years ago, in two problematic plan sketches, have long been demolished. It seems most likely that the Atrium Minervae was a courtyard west of the Senate, housing a statue of Minerva, built to take the place of the Augustan Chalcidicum, whilst the Secretarium Senatus was an apsidal hall which became the church of S. Martina. Both structures seem, based on wall connections and spolia analysis, to have been built together under Constantine, in 312–15, with the apsidal hall perhaps serving as a cult space. The secretarium was installed here in 392–94, later being restored twice, in 412–14 and 491–93, according to

74  Bouleuterion art: Antioch, portraits: Lib. Or. 2.10 (generic ref, not in bouleuterion), 42.43 (portraits are made of ‘wood and color’ (σανίς τε καὶ χρώματα)) ; Aphrodisias: see appendix L2; Athens, demos statue: Paus. 1.3.5 Ormerod edition, 1.3.4 in some others perhaps; Sagalassos: Vanderhulst (2003) no. 8 (of demos) and no. 13 (of Sagalassos); Talloen (2003) Catalogue vol. 2 no. 551.

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inscriptions. The atrium was repaired in 472–73, along with its Minerva statue, as recorded on its base.75 Beyond the doors of the city council chamber we might expect a number of ceremonies to be visible in the public square. Mediterranean city councils also continued to dedicate honorific statues on their civic squares, over much of the Mediterranean, up to the 430s, and a little later in the East. The dedication of these statues sometimes involved small-scale rituals, of the kind C. Roueché has envisaged taking place at Aphrodisias, whereby acclamations might be chanted, or perhaps whereby a rhetor might travel to the city to read out a text he had been commissioned to write. Secular public feasts, which might be paid for by city councils, are known for the 4th c. from Africa, Antioch, and Asia Minor; these might have taken place in agorai, though the one example we have where the setting is certain took place in a street.76 Yet, the only political ceremony involving a city council, recorded by textual sources on a civic plaza, is the formal greeting of an incoming governor by the boule of Antioch in the agora, where its bouleuterion was situated, during an adventus. The ordo salutationis, discovered in the curia of Thamugadi, suggests to us that the same ritual might well have occurred there too.77 Indeed, it is the activities of the imperial government which dominate our sources; these must have been particularly strongly felt in the fora / agorai of provincial capitals. Provincial Government: Praetoria, Law Courts, and Punishment Provincial governors and their imperial masters used the forum / agora as a preferred location to base their headquarters: praetoria were installed on fora / agorai in possibly up to 5 cases during Late Antiquity: at Constantinople [471], at Antioch (twice) [330–37, 371–491], at Carthage, and probably at Athens [383–408].78 Previously, more 75  Other municipal and government offices: appendix M1. 76  Small scale rituals: Roueché (1999b). Rhetor mentioned on inscription: ALA 38 (Pythiodorus, the rhetor from Tralles). The travel to the city is speculation, but certainly reasonable given that rhetors performed publicly. Public feasts: Theod. Hist. eccl. 5.21.4, ‘in agora’ perhaps here means ‘in public’. Public banquet on restoration of curia building in 293 at Mididi: CIL 8.11774 = AE (1946) 119, Lepelley (1979) 296. At Antioch held in the colonnaded streets: Lib. Or. 22.38. 77  Council meeting governor before bouleuterion at Antioch: Lib. Or. 46.40–41 if combined with Or. 18.150 (getting down from horse); for position of bouleuterion on Hellenistic Agora: Downey (1961) 621–40. Timgad, ordo salutationis: see n. 73. 78  Praetoria on fora / agorai: Constantinople, Forum of Leo: Lydus Mag. 2.20–21. Mango (1993a). For a praetorium close to or possibly bordering east side of Forum of Constantine: Guilland (1969) vol. 2 36–39, Janin (1964) 166ff (appendix K1a). Antioch (twice): Malalas 10.10, 13.4, 13.30, with discussion in Downey (1961) 621–40. Possibly Athens, Palace of

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peripheral locations had been preferred. Imperial palaces were also installed on fora / agorai in several cases: at Savaria [undated], at Constantinople [certainly occupied after 324, even if it may be earlier], possibly at Arles [317–26, if the porch dates the palace], and at Milan, where the palace has been located from a medieval toponym.79 Imperial government offices also used this location, as with the mints at Serdica [253–400] and Thessalonica [308–324].80 A treasury was found on the Forum of Constantine in the eastern capital [established sometime 324–603, mentioned in 603]. Secretaria, small audience halls for closed judicial sessions, were present on some fora: at ‘4th c. Trier’, the schoolbook forum scene studied by A.C. Dionisotti involved a secretarium, where the prefect went to examine cases based on documents; at Cyrene, an audience hall, built inside a temple [352–400], might have served the same function, perhaps housing the deliberations of visiting governors or their agents. A prison was in use on the Hellenistic agora of Antioch, mentioned in 387, although this seems to have been inherited from earlier times.81 As we have seen, on the fora / agorai of provincial capitals, governors dedicated statues to their imperial masters, from Corduba, Tarraco, Aquileia, and Lepcis in the West to Corinth in the East. Civic authorities might also do the same in Africa, Italy, Greece, and Asia Minor. These statues were not only important local manifestations of imperial power but were also a place of legal sanctuary.82 We have also seen how statues for governors were very different in terms of their resonance, being part of a tradition of honours based on merit, which had now become dominated by governors, except in Italy. These monuments draw us into a range of other Giants: Frantz (1988) on account of the similarity of its plan to the Palace of the Dux Ripae at Dura Europos (appendix E4). Possibly Carthage: palace of Vandal kings on Byrsa where the forum was (Procop. Vand. 2.14.34–35, 2.14.26, Victor Vit. 3.32) is thought to be a former proconsular palace, although nothing confirms this. Earlier, more peripheral locations: Cologne, Aquincum, Dura Europos, Caesearea Palestinae (Caesarea Maritima) Promontory Palace: see Lavan (1999). 79  Imperial palaces on fora / agorai: Savaria: see appendix A4b; Sirmium: Amm. Marc. 30.5.16. Constantinople: Bauer (1996) 148–67. Arles: Heijmans (1999) and (2004) 132–230 was almost certainly built as an imperial palace, as well as on account of its size and the quality of its architecture. However, the only element that can be closely dated is the porch, which bears an inscription of 317–26: see appendix E1. Milan: the position of the palace is based on a medieval toponym mentioning a church ‘in palatio’ in this area of the town, as well as the discovery of an apsed hall, which alone would not be enough: AAVV (1990) 99. 80  Mints: see appendix M1. 81  Other offices: see appendix M1. 82  Statues as places of sanctuary: Cod. Theod. 9.44.1 (AD 386) = Cod. Iust. 1.25; Joh. Chrys. Huit catéchèses baptismales inédits 3.14; Greg. Naz. Ep. 140.4.

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civic honours, which might range from a simple vote of thanks to commendations to high powers, rituals which potentially could have been played out in public plazas.83 In the Tetrastoon at Aphrodisias, Roueché has identified painted acclamations, written one over the other, again and again. She suggests that these were formally shouted here to honour late antique governors; they were probably painted at this specific location because they were being officially pronounced in the Tetrastoon.84 Although no textual account can confirm this, we do have one record of a related ritual that took place in the forum of Carthage during the early 5th c. Quodvultdeus tells us that the proconsul displayed ivory tablets with the names of his predecessors so that the crowds could cheer or boo them, based on their performance in office.85 Many ceremonies of this kind might have taken place on the forum / agora of a provincial capital, and indeed the rituals of provincial government make up a significant part of the Late Roman school-book forum scene.86 We also have references to agorai being used for official celebrations in two provincial capitals: at Antioch, after imperial clemency following the Riot of the Statues of 378, when the agora was decorated with garlands, and at Edessa, during a festival in 495/96.87 Imperial letters and other official pronouncements could be read out in fora / agorai, such as at Ephesus and possibly at Trier.88 Official texts might also be displayed here. Eighteen wide-ranging laws from the Theodosian Code are known to have been posted in the Forum of Trajan at Rome, between 319 and 451; these postings best relate to the administrative activity of the urban prefects in this forum.89 Postings may have been made in fora in other cities, though we lack any textual or epigraphic evidence to confirm this. In the case of monumentalised public decrees, it is possible to say that display went beyond the agora, encompassing praetoria, streets and the walls of public buildings; this was the case at Ephesus, where two colonnaded streets, close to the Lower Agora served as display-points for inscribed government edicts, 83  City councils honouring governors: see appendix K9. 84   Aphrodisias, fragmentary acclamations at Tetrastoon: Roueché (1999b) 162, Roueché (1989a) n. 75 (?5th / 6th c.), painted onto columns, in many layers of text, including ‘many years for the eparchs’. 85   Names of governors displayed, Carthage: Quodvultdeus, Gloria Sanctorum 13.15. 86  School book forum scene: Dionisotti (1982) 104–105, 118–19, 122–23. 87  Official celebrations: Antioch, agora garlanded after Riot of Statues leniency: Joh. Chrys. Hom. ad pop. Ant. 21.4 (PG 49.220). Edessa: Josh. Styl. 27 (AD 495/96) candles placed in antiphoros during a festival. 88  Imperial pronouncements: possibly Trier (4th c.): Dionisotti (1982) 104–105; Ephesus (AD 431): ACO 1.1.5.14. 89  Laws posted in Forum of Trajan: see full list in Bauer (1996) 95 n. 119.

316 which during the 5th c. also began to appear around the cathedral church, as will be discussed in the next chapter.90 A good number of such texts were displayed in fora / agorai. Some of these might be inscribed in this place because they actually regulated activities taking place in the plaza. This is certainly true for regulations regarding swine collectors at Rome in 367, which were to be displayed on bronze tablets in the swine market. It is probably also true of laws which Augustine described as being displayed in the forum, regulating teacher’s salaries, detailing how much was to be paid by pupils, who, as it will be seen, often attended classes in fora / agorai.91 Similarly, stone copies of Diocletian’s Price Edict, recovered from agorai or macella, at Aphrodisias, Aizanoi, and Stratonicea, were almost certainly inscribed there to regulate market traders.92 In imperial capitals, fora also appear to have been used for important political ceremonies. At Rome, Constantine, Constantius II, and probably Maximian made appearances at the rostra in the Forum Romanum, to present themselves or to give discourses to the people.93 In the early 5th c., consuls were being appointed in the Forum of Trajan. Late sources for Constantinople also suggest that 4th c. consuls were appointed in the Forum of Constantine, or at least in its Senate House.94 The Forum of Theodosius appears as the place where crown gold was offered in 416, and perhaps where foreign embassies were received. The Forum of Trajan seems to have had a range of other administrative functions, 90  Laws displayed at Ephesus: Feissel (1999). 91  Regulations on swine collectors at Rome in 367: Cod. Theod. 14.4.4. Decrees on salaries: August. Conf. 1.16 (26). 92   Diocletianic stone decrees: Aphrodisias, South Agora: Erim and Reynolds (1970) esp. 120 and Erim, Reynolds and Crawford (1971) esp. 171. Aizanoi, ‘Rundbau’ now known to be in Tetragonos Agora: Naumann and Naumann (1973). Stratonicea in Caria: Edict on maximum prices inscribed on the side of the bouleuterion: Nauman and Nauman (1973). This faced onto a square, which current excavators believe to be the agora: Hakan Mert pers. comm. 93  Constantine in adlocutio relief: Bauer (1996) pl. 5.1. Constantius comes to rostra and gives speech from tribunal: Amm. Marc. 16.10.13. Maximian may have addressed the people and soldiery in a contio in the forum, as suggested by Carlos Machado pers. comm., using Lactant. De mortibus persecutorum 28.2–4, Eutr. 10.3.1 and other texts, soon to be published. 94  Consuls appointed: at Rome (Forum of Trajan): Claud. de VI cons. Honorii 643–48, Sid. Apoll. Carm. 2.544f, recording the manumission of slaves as part of the ceremony; at Constantinople (Forum of Constantine): the first consul of the city, Callistratus, is supposed, according to the Parastaseis and Patria, to have received his codicils of office here, whilst Cedrenus and Zonaras confirm that consuls were appointed in its Senate House and received official costume here: Parastaseis 59, Patria 2.44, Cedrenus vol. 1 p. 610.13f, Zonar. 3.125.3f.

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which until 352/53 included storing senators’ treasure chests.95 In provincial capitals, the most important ceremony held in public was the law court: before the tribunal rather in the secretarium. Texts reveal that they were held on fora / agorai at Carthage, Constantinople, Antioch, Ptolemais, and possibly also at Trier.96 Legal hearings of criminal cases were of course public spectacles, where the ambitious made their name as lawyers, while the acclamations of the watching public might try to encourage the acquittal of defendants.97 Judicial torture was an important aspect of the public theatre of these proceedings, to persuade witnesses and suspects not to lie. With their drama of cruelty, morality, and socio-political spectacle, the courts became a big draw for all classes of the public. As I have noted, it is tempting to relate works on civil basilicas to law courts, but this is not easily borne out by the location of building works, except in the East. Free-standing tribunals built on agorai provide perhaps a more direct indication of judicial activity. From these podia, the verdicts of law courts were read and announcements or even speeches could be made. These include the rostra monuments of Rome, which were untypical on account of their size, and also from the fact that they were designed to serve as monuments to naval victories, decorated with the prows of ships. We 95  Other political functions, Forum of Theodosius: aurum coronarium given to emperor here: Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 299, AD 416 (date from edn. of Whitby and Whitby (1989)); reception of embassies Patria 2.47; political functions discussed in Bauer (1996) 203; for vague imperial ceremonial in the basilica in this forum before 462 in which the emperor wore the clothes of a consul, see Cedrenus vol. 1 p. 610.15–611.1. Forum of Trajan: senators’ treasure until 352–53: Scol. Juv ad Sat. 10.5.34 p. 163 (not seen). 96  Law courts: Trier, though city identification is not certain: Dionisotti (1982) 104–105. Carthage: August. Conf. 6.9. Constantinople, ‘Basilica’ courtyard: law courts in mid 6th c. Nov. 82.3, Procop. Anecdota 14.13, Aed. 1.11.12 ‘where lawyers and prosecutors prepare their cases.’ Constantinople (in the Baths of Zeuxippos): Sozom. Hist. eccl. 3.9, under Constantine, and Malalas 14.38, under Leo. There are also references in the Historia Augusta to Valerian holding court in baths at Byzantium, which are likely to reflect practice at the date of the text’s composition, in the late 4th c.: SHA Aurel. 10.3, 13.1. For a law school in the ‘Basilica’ courtyard or possibly in the basilica of the Forum of Theodosius, see Anth. Pal. 9.660. Antioch: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 2 Tim. 3.3 (PG 62.616), Hom. in 1 Tim. 14.4 (PG 62.576), Hom. in 1 Tim. 14.6 (PG 62.578). Ptolemais, in royal stoa / basilica: Syn. Ep. 41. Abitina in Africa Proconsularis: Christian detainees led to forum, from where they were sent off to Carthage: Acts of the Abitinian Martyrs 2. Market places site of torture for tax inquiries under Galerius: Lactant. De mortibus persecutorum 23. 97  Lawyers: e.g., Lib. Or. 6.46, 62.21, August. Conf. 1.18 (29), Cassiod. Var. 8.31. Public interfering: Cod. Iust. 9.47.12 (Diocletian and Maximian, no date), Cod. Theod. 16.2.42 (AD 416), Malalas 14.38 (under Leo).

Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD

see building work on 11 occasions at 6 sites, mainly in the 4th c. (graph 45b): at Rome [Eastern Rostra built 303, Central Rostra planned 303, Western Rostra decorated 303, extended and refaced 312–34, given porch 379–83], Thubursicu Numidarum (Khamissa) [rebuilt 250–439], Abthugni [built and decorated 375–83], Ephesus [new 250–614], and Constantinople [Augusteion 324–361, Forum of Constantine 324–425, Forum of Arcadius 450?], whilst that at Corinth was preserved amongst wider building works in 350–75.98 We only have a detailed knowledge of tribunals from the Forum Romanum, so it worth describing them here within the main text. The Eastern Rostra is entirely a Tetrarchic rebuild, which the Western Rostra was refitted to imitate. The Eastern Rostra is a slightly irregular rectangle, 11.86–12.26 m by 22.6–23.4 m, with two doorways on each of the short lateral sides, and two doorways coming from the east side, leading to staircases to the platform above. The surviving façade section has a pattern of large holes which matches those on the Western Rostra, as do the small holes supporting marble revetment, leading to the suggestion that both the Western and Eastern Rostra buildings may have held the beaks / rams of ships, as did the former Eastern Rostra, on the front of the Temple of Julius Caesar. The marble revetment included a socle of white marble, which survives; it has been speculated that the cornice and balustrade were in the same material, and that there was a bi-colour decoration, based on the type of holes seen for revetment here. Square areas marked out within the structure of the Tetrarchic Eastern Rostra likely represent the intended borders of 5 plinths supporting the pedestals of the honorific columns, of the same type as those shown on the Western Rostra in the Arch of Constantine ‘Forum Scene’. For Constantinople, we can say little about the tribunals, except that there was a naval monument near the Augusteion that might have been similar to a rostra, and that the same square contained a tribunal with steps made from purple stone, from which consular speeches were made and laws given, if we accept the careful reconstruction of Feissel. The tribunal from Ephesus is preserved as a foundation of reused stone in one corner of the Upper Agora ca. 3 m by 6 m, and may represent a more usual size, for structures that were perhaps often built in wood. Imperial statues decorated some tribunals. This is suspected for the Eastern Rostra in Rome [on a porch leading into it, dating from 379–83] and on the Forum of Arcadius in the eastern capital, where statues of 98  Judicial torture: Jones (1964) 519–20, Dionisotti (1982) 105. Syn. Ep. 41. Court as spectacle: Lib. Or. 11.139, Joh. Chrys. de sac. 1.2.20–21, Cassiod. Var. 3.52, 9.14.5. On tribunals: see appendix M2.

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Valentinian III and Marcian stood. A tribunal of the Augusteion held the column of Aelia Eudoxia. The Forum Romanum scene of the Arch of Constantine reveals that on the honorific columns, on the Western Rostra at Rome, statues of Tetrarchic emperors surrounded a Victory, standing in the company of Hadrian and Marcus Aurelius. Some display of imperial images on tribunals was perhaps connected to their function of representing emperors in the law court, but in these cases statues endured as civic monuments. The tribunal of Abthugni is the only site to suggest a different type of statue decoration: it was decorated with 4 statue bases, of which only one subject is made clear: aeternam Urbem Romam, likely a secularised version of the Dea Roma. Were the other statues erected here also relocated cult images? The absence of named subjects on the inscribed bases might suggest it, based on parallels from Rome, Verona, and Aquileia. We cannot know. Certainly, the appearance of a statue of Rome on the tribunal at Abthugni contributed to the representation of imperial power on it, being achieved elsewhere by the display of portraits of emperors, on boards and pen cases, which gave symbolic validity to business in the court. Fora / agorai could be used as places of judicial punishment. The Christian scriptures were burnt here under the Tetrarchs, in both Africa and the East.99 In 395, pagan cult objects were it seems ridiculed ʻaround the agoraʼ at Alexandria.100 Such practices were not entirely without precedent: Trajan and Aurelian had both burned public records in fora at Rome.101 Criminals might be tortured and exposed, or be mutilated here, as in Vandal Africa. Huneric also ordered the ‘entire province of Mauretania’ to be gathered together in the forum to watch the right hands and tongues of the Catholics of Tipasa be cut off.102 Judicial killing sometimes took place in the civic centre: Jucundus, the Arian patriarch of Carthage, was burnt alive in the middle of the town, ca. 477, ‘on the steps of the new square’ as the people looked on.

99  Burning of Divine Scriptures in market places, under the Tetrarchy, in general: Euseb. Hist. eccl. 8.2 provides a vague reference κατὰ μέσας ἀγοράς; at Abitina before or in 304, Acts of the Abitinian Martyrs 3 describes such a burning in a specific forum. 100  Burning / ridiculing pagan cult objects: at Alexandria: pagan cult objects were possibly exposed to ridicule here in the agora in 391: Soc. Hist. eccl. 5.15, Rufinus 2.22–30, though the sense of agora here may well be ‘in public’. 101  Burning of records at Rome, in the Forum Romanum, under Trajan (tax records in debt cancellation): Anaglypha Traiani reliefs, now in Curia Senatus; in Trajan’s forum, under Aure­ lian: SHA Aurel. 39.3. 102  Torture as punishment in forum / agora: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Matth. 77.6 (PG 67.710).

318 However, executions normally took place outside a city.103 Exceptionally, the corpses of public enemies might be displayed in city squares. During a time of public disturbance at Alexandria in 457, the body of the bishop Proterius was hung up on the tetrapylon of the city, which C. Haas has suggested was located in the agora. In the early years of the 6th c., rioters at Antioch hung up the body of Menas, chief of police, on a statue in the antiphoros.104 The authorities might occasionally adopt this behaviour, when political security or public order was at stake. Thus, Honorius exhibited the mutilated Attalus on the tribunal of the Forum Romanum; a few years later, Valentinian III displayed the bodies of Aetius and Boethius the Prefect in the same square. Marcellinus Comes notes that the corpses of rioters, hung up for display at Constantinople in 522–23, provided ‘a grateful sight for the good citizens’, which gives us some idea of the motives of the authorities.105 Finally, it seems likely that soldiers quartered inside cities could meet as a unit in the agora. Zosimus describes how, following the battle of Adrianople, Gothic soldiers were massacred in the market places, after being tricked into assembling there to receive a donative. But it was probably more usual for soldiers to gather outside the city, as was the case at Antioch and Constantinople. Nevertheless, the Strategion square at Constantinople seems originally to have served as a military assembly point, hence its name.106 Social and Cultural Life Any discussion of social life in fora /agorai is best tied together with cultural life, as here such themes are very closely linked in our sources. Literary evidence for social activities comes largely from the eastern half of the 103  Execution, Jucundus: Victor Vit. 2.13 (in media civitate pro gradibus plateae novae). Heldica and Teucharia burned ‘in the middle of the town’ by Huneric: 2.15. See n. 11 on this plaza. 104  Corpse of Proterius hung from tetrapylon at Alexandria: Evagr. Hist. eccl. 2.8, Zach. Myt. Chron. 4.2, Theophanes A.M. 5950 (AD 457/58); Haas (1997) 31, 317, 368 n. 27. Haas’ proposed position of the tetrapylon appears to be based on the desire of the bishop’s assassins to show the body to all, and on the central position of tetrapyla in other eastern cities. No ancient source actually fixes it in the agora, though texts place them both in / towards the centre of the city: Adriani (1966) 254. For the burning of a priest at a tetrapylon in Amida: Chronicle of Zuqnin AD 525–26. For Menas chief of police hung on statue at antiphoros AD 507 at Antioch: Malalas 16.6. See n. 16 for the potential meanings of this term. 105  Display of corpses: Rome: Olympiodorus, frag. 26, Priscus Book 5 frag. 30 (latter could mean ‘in public’ but forum very likely). Constantinople, but not specified as in agorai: Marcell. com. AD 522–23. 106   Constantinople, Strategion: Janin (1964) 54–55, 431–42. Slaughter of Goths after Adrianople: Zos. 4.26.8–9.

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empire, with particularly rich information derived from the sermons of John Chrysostom, relating to Antioch and Constantinople, to which I have devoted a separate article. This material, taken with the rest of his writings and the testimony of other authors, establishes beyond any doubt that agorai were still the main focus of social life around 400 in the East.107 However, it would be unwise to assume that surviving fora in the western Mediterranean were not equally lively at this time. The difference in the volume of evidence may well simply be due to the greater numbers of letters and urban and ecclesiastical chronicles surviving from the East, which preserve scenes of everyday life. The literary evidence for political activities from the West detailed above, alongside that for schooling, makes social intercourse in the forum almost inevitable. Furthermore, quite a few activities described by eastern authors as occurring in agorai are also mentioned in Ammianus’ vignettes of late 4th c. Rome, although without a definite spatial context. Such a context is provided at Arles in 461, where Sidonius Apollinaris attests to the social function of a monumental forum, which he visited ‘in the usual way’, as people hid behind columns and statues to avoid him. He also met clients here, who then followed him in procession. Although the main forum of Arles has been shown by excavation to have been encroached upon by this time, there is no reason to assume that there was no public square in the city at this date, where some social activities comparable to those of eastern agorai could have taken place. Significantly, the forum of the same city appears in texts as late as the 6th c. as an open public space.108 For Libanius, Chrysostom, and Gregory of Nazianzus, a full agora was a sure sign of a prosperous city. For Orkistos in Phrygia, this image seemed so important, that in a plea for urban status before Constantine, it stressed that the seats in the forum were easily filled.109 For Ammianus, at Rome, the forum was one of several places where one might meet others.110 However, when an overall view of the eastern evidence is taken, from Libanius, Chrysostom, Gregory of Nazianzus, and the 107  John Chrysostom on agorai: Lavan (2007a). 108  Rome: Amm. Marc. 14.6.15–17, on public social life, compares well with behaviour described by Chrysostom. Arles forum: Sid. Apoll. Ep. 1.11, Life of Caesarius 1.31, 2.30 (not seen). 109  Full agora, Antioch: Joh. Chrys. Hom. ad pop. Ant. 2.1 (PG 49.35), 2.2 (PG 49.35–36), 17.2 (PG 49.178), Libanius Or. 11.171, Greg. Naz. Or. 33.6. Imperial letter of 324–26: Orkistos should be a city because (amongst other things) in its forum the benches ([se]dilia) are easily filled by its people: Chastagnol (1981) 386, 406–407. 110  Forum as gathering place for proletariat of Rome, who meet in ‘fora et compita et plateas et conventicula’ engaged in quarrelsome arguments with one another: Amm. Marc. 28.4.29.

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ecclesiastical historians, a different picture emerges. It seems that in the late 4th and early 5th c. the agora was the central focus of social life, more important than the street, large houses, or public baths. ‘What could be easier than a walk in the market place?’ asked Chrysostom.111 In his writings regarding Antioch and Constantinople, the agora appears as a primary setting for formalised social display, in which patrons could compete with one another, rather than simply cultivate their clients, as they might at home. As in the street, the wealthy would appear wearing fine clothes and ornaments, perhaps on horseback, or dismounted for the agora, with a processing suite of followers, seen earlier also in the street at Rome.112 These followers might include domestic servants, and someone to clear the way before the group.113 Social competition in this setting was intense, reflected in the jealous glances recorded by Chrysostom. The desire to show one’s status in the agora permeated to other social strata: Chrysostom’s sermons against the vanity of the agora are addressed to a wide spectrum of people, and his targets include vain young men and unmarried girls seeking to show off their beauty, as well as rich men’s wives and socially ambitious males.114 The agora might be a setting for more formal ceremonies. At Athens, the parade for new students recorded by Gregory of Nazianzus passed through the agora on the way to a bath, before ending at someone’s house.115 The wedding procession, recalled by Chrysostom, also passed through the agora at night. At Constantinople, a law of 440, preserved in the Codex Justinianus, forbids marriages from being celebrated in the ‘Basilica’ courtyard, confirming they had taken place here until this date. There is also some late evidence that marriages might be contracted in the Forum of Constantine. According to Cedrenus, this could be done at the nymphaeum opposite the senate building, for those with no

place of residence in the city, unless this is a confusion based on the word ‘nymph’, which also means bride. Libanius provides a contemporary witness for late 4th c. Antioch, recalling marriages being celebrated in the city’s bouleuterion, on its principal agora.116 Even in death, funeral processions of the well-to-do seem to have passed by the agora, for a last goodbye, as Eusebius, Gregory of Nazianzus, and Chrysostom recall.117 For most people, the forum would have been a place to participate in simpler social encounters. For Libanius, the agora of Ankara was a place where one might meet friends.118 Chrysostom seemed to have conceived the agora as mainly a place for men, though married women were present in the market places he recalled, chatting or showing off their jewellery. Aside from virgines, whom he wished to protect from the gaze of men, he mentions heavily pregnant women, widows hanging around the agora, couples courting, a barbarian slave girl on an errand, and buskers. Gregory of Nazianzus describes children playing: boys might play ball, like those who shot one through a heretical bishop’s legs in the agora of Samosata, during the reign of Valens.119 Some people sat in the agorai semi-permanently, watching what was going on.120 This was, of course, the one place in the city where there was always something to look at and always the chance of a conversation about something new. It was a place where one was sure to find acquaintances from all social groups, and a collection of shopkeepers or stall holders known to everyone. The occasional loner might mull something over, like Augustine’s friend Alypius, meditating in the forum of Carthage prior to class. Chrysostom himself recommended singing hymns to God in the marketplace, when no-one was listening.121 But both Gregory of Nazianzus and Chrysostom’s friend Basil defined themselves as being so engrossed in their

111  Walk in the market-place: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1Thessal. (PG 62.428). 112  Horseback with retinue: Joh. Chrys. Ad Theodorum lapsum (Treatise) 18.33–34, Hom. in Phil. 9.4 (PG 62.231–32). Walking through agora with attendants: Ad Theodorum lapsum (Treatise) 9.16. Senators at Rome: Amm. Marc. 14.6.16–17. See processions chapter, on social processions. 113  Servants: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Cor. 40.5 (PG 61.354), Hom. in 1 Cor. 11.4 (PG 61.92). Clearing the way before the group: Hom. in 1 Cor. 40.5 (PG 61.354). Libanius states that a suite of only 20 is a disgrace for a consular governor returning from the theatre: Lib. Or. 33.12, whilst Ammianus at Rome considered 50 attendants at the baths to be worth remarking on: 28.4.9. 114  Social competition: jealous glances: Joh. Chrys. Hom. ad pop. Ant. 15.1 (PG 49.156); vain young men: Hom. in Matth. 49.5 (PG 58.502); virgines: de sac. 3.13.37–51; rich men’s wives: Hom. in Heb. 28.6 (PG 63.199) and socially ambitious males: Hom. in Jo. 3.5 (PG 59.44). See Lavan (2007a) for further details. 115  University induction procession, Athens: Greg. Naz. Or. 43.15.

116   Marriages: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Cor. 12.6 (PG 61.104). Constantinople: Cedrenus, vol. 1 p. 610.14f, Zonar. 14.1.18, discussed by Bauer (1996) 171. Antioch: Lib. Or. 2.36. 117  Funeral processions: Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 9.8.11: lamentation ‘in every lane and market place’; Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 2 Thessal. 1.2 (PG 62.471); for the funeral of Basil of Caesarea, which Gregory described but did not witness, see Greg. Naz. Or. 43.80 (PG 36.601). 118  Friends: Ankara: Lib. Ep. 298. 119  Virgines: Joh. Chrys. de sac. 3.13.37–51; Hom. in Matth. 73.3 (PG 58.677). Pregnant women: Hom. in Jo. 34.3 (PG59.198). Widows: de sac. 3.13.9. Lovers: Hom. in Jo. 79.5 (PG 59.432) (use of μέσῃ τῇ ἀγορά here may mean ‘in public’). Slaves on errands: Hom. in Rom. 4.4 (PG 60.40–42). Buskers: Hom. in Rom. 4.4 (PG 60.41). Boys playing: Greg. Naz. Or. 39.3. Boys playing ball at Samosata: Theod. Hist eccl. 4.15.5–7. 120  People-watchers: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Act. 35.3 (PG 60.257). 121  Loners: August. Conf. 6.9 (14); Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Col. 9.3 (PG 62.364).

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spirituality that they had no place in the agora.122 It was a place where one might experience the full range of human emotions: One goes into the agora; one sees an enemy; one is inflamed by the bare sight of him! One sees a friend honoured; one is envious! One sees a poor man; one despises and takes no notice of him! One sees a rich man; one envies him! One sees someone injuriously treated; one recoils in disgust! One sees someone acting injuriously; one is indignant! One sees a beautiful woman, and is caught! You see, beloved, how many snares there are?’ Joh. Chrys. Hom. ad pop. Ant. 15.1 (PG49.156)

Chrysostom was concerned that the agora in particular developed a slightly addictive hold over people, apparently more so than the street. Servants might well forget why they came, when confronted by all the market had to offer ‘as it happens with thoughtless servants at market, who abandon the tasks which their masters have entrusted to them, and rivet themselves at a mere haphazard to those who fall in their way, and waste out their leisure there’. They might get distracted by the many street artists found in the market place, such as people exhibiting tame lions, who occasionally ran amok, frightening those present.123 But worse than this, a visitor could become attracted by the glitz of the place to the point of behaving foolishly in the sight of others. Those who wear ‘silks and shining garments’ are to be pitied for their vanity. A young man with expensive shoes makes a particularly precious spectacle: he walks on tip-toes, very carefully, to avoid the mud of the agora in the winter, and its dust in the summer. Furthermore, ‘raiment and gold exposed in the market place attract many ill-meaning people’, even if the most successful ‘might turn the heads of all present’. Rich men appear in the agora like ‘sellers of sheep and slave dealers’ on account of their swarms of servants. Some are so obsessed with what the city thinks of them that they are ‘slaves of all who appear in the agora’.124 One gets the 122  Do not belong in the agora: Greg. Naz. Or. 33.8, Joh. Chrys. de sac. 1.2.20–21. Agora not place for a spiritual person: Hom. in Jo. 61.3 (PG 59.340), Hom. in 1 Cor. 8.5 (PG 61.74). 123  Distracted servants: Hom. in Rom. 4.4 (PG60.420–22); juggling beggars: Hom. in Rom. 4.4 (PG60.42); dancing and piping beggars: Hom. in Rom. 4.4 (PG60.422); tame lions: Hom. in Ac. 29.4 (PG60.220). 124  Costly garments: Hom in 1 Cor. 11.4 (PG61.92). Pity for vanity: Hom in 1 Cor. 13.5 (PG61.113). Young man: Hom in Mt. 49.5 (PG58.502). Ill-meaning persons: Hom in Mt. 3.7 (PG57.37). Turning heads: Hom. in Tit. 2.4 (PG62.676). Sheep and slave dealers: Hom.in 1 Cor. 40.5 (PG61.354). Slaves of all that appear in the agora: Hom in 2 Cor. 24.4 (PG61.568–69).

impression that the main plaza was still, in the time of Chrysostom, an axis on which the city turned, a place which was slightly intoxicating. It appears to be a cultural centre as much as a social centre, where one might feel a wider sense of the city, understand one’s place in the world, and perhaps develop a whole way of seeing life, quite unlike the unstable images formed when passing through the street. For the poor, and those from out of town, the agora was one place to sleep.125 References to beggars in the plaza are frequent. At Alexandria, a beggar spurned a patron’s help, preferring the crowds and meat of the agora, his chosen spot. Chrysostom’s beggars are crippled, lame, and maimed. One might see church widows in their number. He also recalls a troop of dishevelled prisoners brought out in chains to beg in the marketplace for their sustenance. Eusebius recalls a famine where even high-born women were forced to beg here.126 In times of famine, the bodies of the dead might be found littered about, as beggars succumbed to hunger and disease.127 In happier moments, buskers and juggling and dancing ‘beggars’ might add to the colour of the square, whilst prostitutes might occasionally be found in agorai.128 They, along with other infames, were forbidden from using public seats, such as those mentioned in the Orkistos inscription of 324–26. Though common on eastern agorai, such seats rarely escape spoliation, surviving Antiquity on the Upper Agora of Sagalassos and at Ephesus, amongst other places. At Ephesus, the bench on the Upper Agora includes a late antique place inscription for a clergyman, whilst at Aphrodisias six rectangular marble benches found around the late 4th c.

125  Sleeping in agora: Leontius N. v. Jo. Eleem 21 (early 7th c. Alexandria). 126  Beggars: Greg. Nys. de Pauperibus Amandis 1 (PG 46.458). Antioch / Constantinople: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Act. 13.4 (PG 60.111), Hom. in 1 Cor. 30.4 (PG 61.254), Hom. in Act. 3.4 (PG 60.39). Alexandria: Palladius, Hist. Laus. 21.5–6, late 4th or early 5th c.; this work has some later contamination, though the story does sound authentic. Prisoners beg: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Jo. 60.4 (PG 59.333). High-born women beg: Euseb. Hist. eccl. 9.8.7. Dead from famine lay in market places and lanes: Euseb. Hist. eccl. 9.8.9. During famine in Edessa hungry poor die in courtyards of the (city) church, as also in the city squares and inns: Josh. Styl. 43 (AD 500/501). 127  Dead from famine lay in market places and lanes: Euseb. Hist. eccl. 9.8.9. During famine in Edessa hungry poor die in courtyards of the (city) church, as also in the city squares and inns: Josh. Styl. 43 (AD 500/501). 128  Prostitutes: ‘infamous women’ in agora of Damascus may be prostitutes: Euseb. Hist. eccl. 9.5.2. ‘Pimp’ in agora: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Act. 31.4 (PG 60.234). Prostitutes are, of course, more normally found in taverns and brothels.

Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD

Tetrastoon bear inscriptions that Roueché suggests may reserve them for particular associations.129 The chatter of the market place mirrored the interests of late antique society. At Antioch, Chrysostom records people discussing ‘merchandise, taxes, the sumptuous table, the sale of lands, or other contracts, wills, or inheritances’. But the talk of many who passed their time sitting in the agora was about chariot races; he disapproved of this and also of the witticisms uttered here.130 He notes that a bishop might face shouts of abuse from ‘paupers and beggars’ in the marketplace, whilst Basil complained of being slandered there, and dreamt of a former golden age when there were debates and ‘gatherings of wise men in the agora’. Informal debates do however still seem to have been conducted here, certainly about theology at least.131 At Carthage, a heretic read out his book to a large audience in the time of Augustine, on the platea maritima, which has been identified with the round plaza on the Admiralty Island. Theodoret records an arrest made under Valens, following a young man’s ‘holy enthusiasm’ in an agora of Antioch. Chrysostom was eager that people talk theology in the market place, but he disapproved of ‘guessers and errers’, and even recommended thumping blasphemers. Around this time, Theodosius I tried to ban contests and assemblies in the markets in a move against heretics.132 Strong feelings might make agorai dangerous places in big cities: Chrysostom’s supporters at Constantinople avoided them after his deposition, and an Arian bishop of Antioch, under Constantius, dragged the orthodox away from the agora, to punishment.133 Nevertheless, some people might go there to protest, as happened at Constantinople, Nicomedia, and Antioch, in the later 4th c. One such protest developed into a riot: at the council of Ephesus in 431. Yet, it would be to go too far to

129  Public seats forbidden to actresses, tavern workers etc.: Cod. Theod. 15.13.1 (AD 396). Seats on agorai: Sagalassos, see plan and picture in Waelkens et al. (2000) 298, 299, figs. 105, 300, fig. 106. Ephesus, Upper Agora: Foss (1979) 82, n. 70. Aphrodisias, Tetrastoon: Roueché (1989a) n. 212, thought to be 4th c. or later because the latest architectural arrangement of the plaza is of this date. On public seats: Chastagnol (1981) 386, 406–407. 130  The chatter of the market place: Joh. Chrys. Hom. ad pop. Ant. 10.1 (PG 49.111–12). Races: Hom. in Jo. 32.3 (PG 59.187). Witticisms: Hom. in Eph. 17.3 (PG 62.119). 131  Shouts of abuse: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Ac. 3.4 (PG60.39). Slander: Basil, Ep. 289. Debates of wise men: Ep. 74. 132  Theology: August. de civ. D. 16.8, Retract. 2.58; Theod. Hist eccl. 3.11.2, Joh. Chrys. Hom. ad pop. Ant. 6.6 (PG 49.90), Hom. in Jo. 2.2 (PG 59.31), Hom. ad pop. Ant. 1.12 (PG 49.32). Theodosius I ban: Sozom. Hist. eccl. 7.6, though agora might here mean here ‘in public’. 133  Agorai dangerous for dissenters: Constantinople: Sozom. Hist. eccl. 8.23.4; Antioch: Theod. Hist eccl. 2.9.2. S

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see the civic plaza as a primary place of protest, in cites which had a theatre.134 Relating the archaeology of fora / agorai to social life is difficult. On a general level, one might say that porticoes and fountains did much to provide an amenable social environment. Statues too were evidently erected to be looked at, and their inscriptions to be read, by those who would take the time to loiter. Latrines would have made long stays more comfortable, such as those known to be adjacent to agorai at Constantinople, Magnesia on the Meander, Aphrodisias, and Sagalassos. They could also be found in baths adjacent to fora and agorai. Although baths were a crucial part of social life, it is probably best not to consider those built and repaired on fora / agorai, as evidence for the interconnection of their social functions. Baths with late antique repairs are frequently located not far from fora / agorai but some adjacent to them, as at Sagalassos, have no entrance from the plaza. Nevertheless, on occasion, a functional connection of baths to activities taking place in agorai is reasonable. This seems most obvious at Aphrodisias, where the main entrance of the principal baths of the city was via a courtyard opening off the southern agora. The courtyard was a major site of statuary display in Late Antiquity, and in the same city, the Theatre Baths were connected to the new Tetrastoon square by cutting through a wall.135 When one looks further, one has to admit that everyday social activities generally leave little archaeological trace. There may be some potential in the study of the stone surface archaeology of agorai, in analysing the nature and distribution of inscribed graffiti and other markings. Amongst these, gameboards are the most obvious indicators of social interaction. As casually inscribed graffiti, they occur in many forms in theatres, temples, streets, fora / agorai, and, significantly, in church atria, revealing that at least some are late antique. They can be very elaborate, even taking the shape of a circus, as in the forum at Belalis Maior.136 More formal professionally-carved gameboards are known from at least 4 agorai in Turkey. At 4 sites, Ephesus, Aphrodisias, 134  Protest: Nicomedia: Sozom. Hist eccl. 4.16.12; Antioch, against tricks of Julian: Theod. Hist eccl. 3.17.3, and Riot of Statues. Constantinople, against deposition of Joh. Chrys.: Sozom. Hist. eccl. 8.18.4; Ephesus, AD 431: ACO 1.4.14 when antiNestorian rioters filled agora during the Council. 135  Latrines: see appendix K8b. Aphrodisias: Bath courtyard off the agora with statues: Smith (1999); cutting of entrance from Theatre Baths into the Tetrastoon: Erim (1986) 94–95. 136   Casually-inscribed gameboards: in church atria: e.g., Hierapolis church by agora, Sagalassos bouleuterion church (both site observations July 2004), and Aphrodisias, immediately south of the south door of the Temple-Church, on the top step: Roueché (1989a) n. 217 (two gameboards, each of three concentric squares). Belalis Maior: Mahjoubi (1978) 142.

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figure e8e A professionally-cut gameboard, with seating, from a reused statue base and cornices, in the tetragonal agora, Perge

Sagalassos, and Perge, these are definitely late antique in date. One from Aphrodisias has a dedicatory inscription, whilst that at Perge (fig. E8e) was found complete with two spolia benches for competing parties to sit on.137 Although often overlooked, these gameboards may be the closest that we will get to detecting the people who sat watching the world go by in the agora; we know from Ammianus that this class of person was as addicted to dice-playing as they were to talking about the races: at Belalis Maior, they were able to combine both pursuits on a board shaped like a circus, inscribed in the forum.138 Lest juggling beggars and dice-players give too casual an image of agorai, one should note 4th and 5th c. evidence which suggests that civic elites wished to encourage dignified public comportment in eastern agorai. The sentiment that the agora ought to be a dignified public space can also be detected in the writings of Synesius, who thought that the torture practiced in the law court at Ptolemais disfigured the agora, a space which he considered to be the most elegant part of the city; similar

137   Professionally-cut gameboards: Aphrodisias: Roueché (1989a) nn. 68–71 late 5th to 6th c. date based on titles of people, one a πατὴρ τῆς πόλεως. Perge: the gameboard is made from a statue base, and the seats are parts of reused architectural ornament: Mansel (1975) 79, 81, fig. 43. Sagalassos: a similar board is known from the centre of the Upper Agora at Sagalassos. It has carved crosses as decoration (suggesting after ca. 400), and was never removed from the agora, despite decisions to remove honorific monuments during the 6th c.: L. Lavan site observation July 2004. Ephesus: similar gameboard, L. Lavan site observation May 2003, with splayed ends to its crosses (so perhaps after ca. 450). 138  Gamers at Rome: Amm. Marc. 14.6.25 (making disgusting sounds through their noses), 28.4.21. See now a study of the gameboards of the Forum Romanum by Trifilò (2012).

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sympathies are also revealed in comments by Basil.139 At Constantinople a law of 440, which was retained by the compilers of the 6th c. Justinianic Code, forbade assemblies and banquets in the ‘Basilica’ courtyard, along with the introduction of horses, thus making it a pedestrian space. As described in the processions chapter, Belisarius walked to the agora every day in the same city, with his suite.140 This may indicate pedestrian-only access, though it is difficult to envisage this for all the fora of the city, most of which were set on major processional arteries, of which the Mese has produced wheel ruts. The absence of such ruts from fora / agorai or of tethering holes (I have never seen any) suggests that almost everywhere traffic was excluded, and that this proscription lasted until the end of use of the paved surfaces. Admittedly, horses of governors passed through the agora at Antioch in order to enter the praetorium. But aristocrats who processed to the agora on horseback, as part of their daily routine, likely had to dismount, as was discussed in the previous chapter. Chrysostom also recalls tradesmen delivering their wares by camel and donkey, which was probably a particular nuisance during morning hours.141 Commercial Life Fora and agorai were still commercial centres. This can be seen through the archaeology of commercial structures: traces of stalls on their paving, and in the presence of market buildings and shops surrounding them, built anew or restored, as will be described in a subsequent chapter. For now, it is sufficient to say that there is ample evidence from across the Mediterranean, and north-west Europe, of regulated commerce, with officially recognised stalls and specialised market buildings for the smelly commerce of meat, from the 4th and 5th c. in the West, and through the 6th in the East. As we will see, building work on market buildings on fora / agorai is 139  Dignity of agora: Ptolemais: Synesius Ep. 41; Caesarea in Cappadocia: Basil, Ep. 74. Restrictions on animal access may have applied depending on the time of day, but high status visitors and political ceremonies are likely to have been more or less exempt: imperial coronation processions in a chariot passing through agorai at Constantinople: Cer. 1.91, see Bauer (2001) 37–46. Governor’s getting down from horse before the bouleuterion at Antioch: Lib. Or. 46.40–41 if combined with Or. 18.150 (getting down from horse). 140  Correct comportment in Constantinople ‘Basilica’: Cod. Iust. 8.12.21 (440). Belisarius: Procop. Goth. 3.1.5–6. 141  Governor on horseback at Antioch: Hom. ad pop. Ant. 17.2 (PG 49.173). Aristocrats processed there on horseback as part of their daily routine: Joh. Chrys. Ad Theodorum lapsum (Treatise) 18.33–34, Hom. in Phil. 9.4 (PG 62.231–32). Deliveries on camels and donkeys: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Act. 6.3 (PG 60.61). Suggestion that donkeys delivered in the morning: Lib. Or. 50.25.

Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD

attested across the Roman world for the late 3rd to 5th c., in all regions except the Danube and Egypt. Shops were added to these squares, from the later 3rd c., in the West, and from around the beginning of the 5th c. in the East, set within free building plots, and sometimes within subdivided porticoes.142 We can reasonably suspect that civil basilicas still had some commercial functions, at least in the West. Precise evidence of what was sold in basilicas is limited to references to cloth, with finds of the coins of money-changers coming from the floor of the Basilica Aemilia in Rome, trapped in the destruction of ‘410’. We will also note how the overall pattern of evidence for different types of structure strongly implies that investment in agorai in Greece had a commercial motivation: that the open plazas and porticoes / stoas were still primarily places to buy and sell. The presence of ramps, added to the agorai of Philippi, Magnesia, and later Ephesus, sometimes marked with striations (coexisting with steps at Magnesia), suggests that animals would be brought into the agora, even though the space seems to have been closed to horses. It is likely that such animals were being brought in for sale.143 Unfortunately, the function of most shops occupied on fora / agorai during this period cannot be determined. In the West, 5 forum shop functions have been identified. In Hispania, at Segobriga a metal workshop is known [300–400] and at Complutum, a mosaicist has been identified [300–400, pending]. In Gaul, at Rodez, bone-working artefacts (pins, needles, and tokens) were found [350–425], after a phase of domestic occupation. In Italy, at Rome, in the Forum of Caesar, a blacksmith has been identified [400–425], and at Egnatia, the finding of a great quantity of hooks and needles, related to the repair of nets, suggests that chandlery was practiced [375–400]. In the East, 6 or more shop functions have been identified. In Greece, at Delphi, a glass workshop has been identified on the basis of finds, from a shop on the Roman agora [relating to occupation prior to ca. 350]. In Asia Minor, at Aphrodisias, another glass workshop, has been discovered in the Sebasteion shops just off the agora, including a furnace [350–600]; adjacent to the same plaza, a sculptor’s workshop of 4th c. date has been uncovered, complete with unfinished statuary, unsold stock, and even sculptors’ tools; at Arykanda, a bronzesmiths / blacksmiths was detected in the late shops on the Upper Agora [250–400]; at Antioch in Pisidia, Late Roman shops on the Tiberia Platea (an 142  Building work on shops and market buildings on fora / agorai in later 3rd to 5th c.: see appendices Y1–Y3 and W1–W3. 143  Commerce of civil basilicas: see chapter on markets and shops. Building work: see appendices X1a–X1c. Commerce and agorai in Greece: see markets and shop chapter. Ramps: appendices C9a, K5, S6.

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elongated plaza rather than a simple street) [300–325] have been recognised by Mitchell and Waelkens as small bars and restaurants on account of finds from within the shops, which included many drinking vessels and storage jars. In Cyrenaica, a similar function has been ascribed, based on pottery, to a shop installed on the agora of Cyrene “ca. 400”.144 Much evidence for commerce is literary or epigraphic, though this comes almost entirely from the East. During the reign of Julian, Christians, worried about pagan holy water sprinkled on foodstuffs, saw meat, fruit, vegetables, and bread on sale in Near Eastern agorai. Chrysostom too mentions meat and bread, and seems to imply wine, whilst also noting vegetables and shoes.145 At Gaza, we learn that hot dishes were kept simmering in the market place. These were used to boil up a few Christians, when tempers frayed under Julian.146 Asterius of Amaseia reckoned that one could commonly enjoy viewing ‘richly wrought vessels, platters, and pitchers. For the sight of them is free and unhindered. Watch the moneychangers also, who are continually reckoning and counting the coin at their tables.’ Asterius here probably describes goods displayed outside shops, having separately evoked a visit to a silversmiths, but his notice of the tables of money-changers does suggest an open setting, merging into the market proper.147 Of ergastèria, here best translated as ‘shops’, Chrysostom mentions a barber’s and perfumer’s in the agora, whilst elsewhere he bemoans the noise of silver beaters and braziers in the market place. Silversmiths (who could be bankers as much as metalworkers), operated from shops close to agorai at both Carthage and Constantinople. It was perhaps this type of high-value artisan that Cassiodorus envisaged a Roman aristocrat might like to visit on a stroll through the forum.148 A wine shop was installed in the agora of Alexandria in a former temple, where hot wine was available.149 Further discussion of barbers and food 144  Shop functions: see appendix O, plus appendix V4b (Rodez), appendix K2a (Rome, Forum of Caesar), and appendix V4b (Egnatia). 145  Food sales: ‘Bread and meat and fruit and vegetables’: Theod. Hist. eccl. 3.15.2. Meat and wine: Joh. Chrys. Ad Theodorum lapsum (Treatise) 19.7–10. Vegetables and shoes: Hom. in Act. 9.5 (PG 60.83). 146  Gaza boiling pots: Sozom. Hist. eccl. 5.9.4. 147   Wrought vessels, platters and pitchers, money changers: Asterius Amas. Or.3 (PG 40.204). He does not use the word agora here. 148  Silversmiths: Carthage, shops by forum: August. Conf. 6.9 (14). Constantinople, portico close to Augusteion: Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 327 A.D. 531 (date from edn. of Whitby and Whitby (1989)), Janin (1964) 160–61. High value artisans, Rome: Cassiod. Var. 8.31. 149  Barbers and perfumers: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Cor. 36.5 (PG 61.313). Silver beaters and braziers: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Act. 6.3 (PG 60.61). Wine shop in former tychaion, described by

324 sellers active around the Tetrastoon at Aphrodisias, will take place in the markets and shops chapter. Chrysostom found that commerce could dominate everyday experience of the agora, with the bustle of deliveries and noise from the manufacture of goods. At Caesarea in Cappadocia, the porticoes on each side of the agora echoed to similar sounds: people squabbling over payments and the lashes of whips, perhaps related to the sale of animals or slaves. Basil thought that through these echoes the very porticoes were groaning, lamenting the passing of the more dignified Hellenic agora of his literary imagination.150 Bullying soldiers seem to have been a constant problem: a stall holder at Philadelphia in Lydia was stabbed to death by a Gothic soldier who had declined to pay for his purchase, whilst a fragment of John of Antioch describes Isaurians harassing the market traders at Constantinople under Zeno. Basil was particularly upset by military vulgarity in the agora at Caesarea. From mid-6th c. Antioch, Malalas hypothesised that Diocletian’s intervention to regulate measures for corn and other commodities was to prevent the intimidation of market traders.151 Despite these uncouth everyday realities, the most unpleasant commerce (such as leather working, pottery production or animal sales) was probably kept out of the main agorai of most cities, by higher rents and public control. We do not hear of such traders owning shops in agorai, amongst all the barbers and perfumers. It doubtless also pleased men like Basil that schools were held in or adjacent to fora, at Rome, Milan, and Carthage, and in agorai, at Constantinople, Athens, and notably Antioch, where at least three establishments competed for pupils on the same square in the mid 4th c.152 Palladas, who worked in Alexandria: Anth. Pal. 9.180–84, where hot wine was available: 9.184. This building was known to be towards centre of the city, where the agora was located. Its position on the agora is conjectural, though it is usual for these structures: Adriani (1966) 258–59. 150  Commerce dominating: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Act. 6.3 (PG 60.61). Caesarea: Basil, Ep.74. 151   Soldiers harass stallholders: Philadelphia: Zos. 4.31.4. Constantinople: J. Ant. frag. 206.1; Caesarea: Basil Ep.74; Antioch: Malalas 12.38 (Diocletian). Later, Belisarius’ soldiers occupying Carthage in 533/34 get their lunch by purchase from the agora: Procop. Vand. 1.21.10; this might be in the sense of ‘on the open market’ but other words could have been used if this was the case. 152  Schools: Rome, in imperial fora: Marrou (1932); tombstone of grammaticus Boniface who taught here: CIL 6.9446=33808 = ICUR 1, 1549 = ILCV 726 (add, em) = CLE 1343 = ICVaticano p 229 = AE (1997) 166; Venantius Fortunatus, Carm. 7.8. Milan, late 5th c.: Ennodius 3. Carthage, later 4th c.: August. Conf. 6.9 (14), Conf. 1.16 (26). Constantinople, in the ‘Basilica’ courtyard: Socrates, Hist. eccl. 3.1.9; in the agora, where civic orator sat: Lib. Or. 1.35. Athens: Lib. Or. 1.35. Antioch: Lib. Or. 1.101–102, 1.104, 1.102.

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Religious Life Finally, one should not forget the religious function of fora / agorai. It was here that many of a city’s principal temples could be found. These were, until their closure, social centres, as well as places of cult activity. In the later 4th c., some pagan ceremonies were recorded taking place in agorai, with processions under Julian, then public feasts and wild Bacchanal celebrations under Valens.153 However, we do not have any descriptions of sacrifices, as one might expect in the earlier years of the 4th c. Imperially sanctioned restrictions on pagan ceremonies probably did see them disappear from fora / agorai. Whilst it had long been primarily a pagan centre, the agora seems occasionally to have been used as a place of assembly / procession for Christians, at both Constantinople and Antioch. Yet, one cannot talk of it being a standard place of Christian assembly.154 Chrysostom’s congregation liked to go from communion in church into the agora, although he saw the two spaces as being in conflict and in competition, rather than being complementary.155 We get some impression of what we might be missing, in terms of paganism at least, from the record of new building and repair of temples and churches found around fora / agorai. New Built Temples New temples were built on fora / agorai, in 6 or 7 cases from the West and in 3 from the East, 2 of which come from 1 site (Map 14a–14b, including repairs).156 They make up a very big percentage of the new temples of the period. On account of their rarity, and exceptional historical interest, they are here described in detail within the text. In Hispania, at Complutum, in a secondary plaza adjacent to the forum, a possible small temple of square plan, made out of unfaced stone masonry with ashlar corners, has been excavated [380–405]. A platform of opus latericium, perhaps supporting an altar, stood about 5 m in front of the edifice, suggesting the identification. A perimeter wall surrounded the 153  Pagan procession at Antioch under Julian: Lib. Or. 15.76. Public paganism under Valens: Theod. Hist eccl. 4.24.3 and 5.21.4, though here agora may mean ‘in public’. 154  Religious gatherings: Constantinople, protest gathering in Forum of Constantine under Anastasius: Marcell. com. AD 511–12. Area that later became Forum of Arcadius (Xerolophus) used by group separated from Novatians for night-time gatherings, where a panic crush occurred, killing 70: Socrates Hist eccl. 7.5 (not seen in Greek). Antioch, agora included in procession: Theod. Hist eccl. 5.35.4. Constantine builds two temples (Rhea and fortune of Rome) in old agora of Constantinople: Zos. 2.31.2. See appendix Q1. Religious processions pass through agora under Julian: Lib. Or. 15.76. 155  Agora visited after communion: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Matth. 5.1 (PG 57.55). 156  Temples in the West: see appendix P1.

Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD

complex, which also contained a well. In Italy, a small late structure was built at the south-west corner of the Basilica Aemilia, outside the Senate House [312–95]. This is a small structure of opus latericium, essentially a square covered by a vault. It has a shallow internal niche, set facing its only entrance on the north side. There seems at least to have been a porch, as the doorway is flanked by a projecting extension of the wall on its west side. The structure is identified by some as the ‘Temple of Janus’ described by Procopius, as the setting, design, and scale, although not the building materials, are a fair match. At Ostia, in the Palaestra, a small rectangular fountain was converted into a temple: its open work screens replaced by walls, its interior filled with mortar, and it was given a new front porch, likely of two columns, and steps [275–312.5] (fig. E9a). At Saepinum, a trapezoidal structure, located just east of the ‘Temple of Jupiter’, has been identified as a late temple [250–410]. The plan is unusual for a temple of any kind, being composed of a room open to the plaza on one side, without a true cella, with walls on three sides opening onto the forum on the south side via a 4-column façade. The façade (probably pedimental) is supported by 4 columns, of which two are engaged with the side wall of the structure. A plaque from a statue monument to Helena was found inside but may be from the adjacent temple. From Africa, at Thibilis, a large unfinished temple of three cellae should date after the mid 3rd c., based on an inscription. However, the dating evidence is weak and the structure little studied, to merit more attention here [251–435]. At Thubursicu Numidarum, on the southwest side of the old forum, a temple was rebuilt from the substructures up, at some time during Late Antiquity. The temple resembles a prostyle temple with 4 columns, with the side walls of the cella carried on the corner columns of the porch, with a tribunal set 1.9 m before the back of the room. The shape is, like Saepinum, an oddlytrapezoidal parallelogram [250–439]. At Mactaris, on the old forum, a temple of Liber Pater was despoiled to build a monument, on the same site, dedicated to the happy times of Constantius and Julian by Q. Licinius Aurintius Victorinus (curator) and ordo, in AD 357. Of the remains, we have an architrave frieze block, with the inscription cut on its back face, but now cut so as to fit into two perpendicular elements, with new decorative ‘pearls’ being cut onto the sides of the block. Other fragments of the architrave frieze show similar re-cuttings for reuse. The length of the inscribed and re-cut architrave block is 2.44 m, thus providing a side measurement for the structure, which surviving column emplacements indicate was slightly trapezoidal rather than square. The shape produced by these elements suggests that the new building resembled a ciborium [357].

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In the East, we have fewer new temples on agorai, with only one from Greece and two ciboria temples from Constantinople.157 Argos has a rectangular temple, prostyle in plan set on its agora. The structure measures 6.1 m by 11.25 m (external dimensions) [250– 412.5]. At Constantinople, two temples were erected by Constantine on the ‘Tetrastoon’, which seems to equate with the ‘Basilica’ courtyard [324–30]. Zosimus notes that these temples housed statues of the Tyche of Rome and of Rhea (from Mount Dindymus), deprived of her Lions. However, this last detail implies that the second statue was identical in form to a Tyche, a female civic goddess with a crown of walls. By combining a variety of texts, we can place the Tychaion of Constantinople here. Firstly, by following Dagron, we can note the two statues of ‘Pallas’ (a city-protecting female goddess) in the Basilica, attested to by Hesychius of Miletus. Secondly, we also know that there was a place ‘in the Basilica’ noted by Socrates Hist. eccl. 3.11, where Julian offered sacrifices to the Tyche of Constantinople, whose statue was erected here. Dagron has argued that we are dealing with two tychaia here, one of Constantinople and one of Rome. Of architectural form, one of these temples is likely identical with a structure of 4 arches (τετραπόροις ἁψῖσιν) restored in 520, according to buildings inscriptions preserved in the Palatine Anthology. This description suggests a very similar shape to a traditional tychaion in the form of a ciborium / canopy. Repaired and Rededicated Temples In terms of repairs / rededications of temples set on fora / agorai, we have 7 cases from 5 sites for the West and 1 from the East. There are 3 cases from Rome, 2 from elsewhere in Italy, and 2 from Africa. At Rome, on the Forum Romanum, the Temple of Saturn was rebuilt [370–440], as indicated by the construction of the porch superstructure, composed of reused columns supporting a pedimental entablature, which bore an inscription recording the rebuilding of the monument by the Senate after a fire. The porch was made up of 8 monolithic columns, 6 on the front, of grey granite, and 2 on the lateral sides, of pink granite. The column bases were reused of white and grey marble. The podium was also rebuilt. On the same plaza, the Temple of Castor and Pollux had stairs descending on three sides added to its front, in place of the tribunal-like frontage known from Hadrianic depictions [250–523]. The porticus deorum consentium was also rebuilt on the same Forum, sometime in 367–78, as we have noted. Although this was a portico, it did enclose a secluded area, and featured statues of the consenting gods, qualifying it as a sacral structure. 157  Temples in the East: see appendix Q1.

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figure e9a

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Ostia, Small Temple of the Palaestra, repurposed from a fountain

In Rome, on the Forum of Caesar, the Temple of Venus Genetrix was extensively altered under Maxentius [306– 12]. The modifications were extensive but preserved much of the external form of the building. The columnar porch was incorporated into a thick wall of opus latericium, running north-west / south-east, which extended beyond the temple on each side, to fill the whole northern / north-western flank of the forum, into which two arches were set, giving access to the plaza. The columns were not entirely hidden in the new arrangement: from the forum paving, one could still see the basic columnar outline of a temple porch. Access into the building from the forum was also still possible through a doorway in centre of the façade, thanks to a gap where two columns were removed. The fact that the temple’s structure, architectural appearance, and plan were protected suggests that we are dealing with a temple restoration, rather than its reuse for a new function. This is further strengthened by the re-erection of a statue to the Divine Sabina, perhaps in the guise of Venus, in front of the building in 399–400. From Saepinum, in the Apennines, comes the most noteworthy example of a rededicated temple. Here, in front of the Temple to Jupiter, on the north side of the forum, were erected 4 or 5 statue bases, in a line, including examples dedicated to Constantine and

Helena (fig. E9b). These two bases flanked a large central base that is likely to have carried another statue and were accompanied by two other (missing / blank) bases, that might represent Caesars Constantine II and Constantius II [326–30]. The unusual religious language used here to describe Constantine, ‘di(i)s genito’, ‘begotten of the gods’, suggests that the central base belonged to Constantius I. I speculate that the temple was rededicated from a Temple of Jupiter, the tutelary deity of Diocletian and Galerius, to serve the cult of Constantine’s family. A statue of Helena (not published) believed to have been in an adjacent structure, may well have come from here, as the plan which supports the find spot appears to show the (elongated) Jupiter temple. Similar monuments may have passed off as ‘new’ temples at the start of our period, despite only being rededicated or repaired: in Africa, at Segermes, the capitol was ‘done’ using civic funds under a curator, in 286–93, according to an inscription. However, the architrave block on which this text is written is very rough compared to the rest of the monument, which has very fine decoration, making it clear that we have here a new façade, rather than a real restoration. At Sabratha, an inscription found in the east forum temple, records the restoration of a temple of Liber Pater in 340–50, overseen by governor Victor Calpurnius and involving Lucius Aemilius Caelestinus,

Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD

figure e9b

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Saepinum, Forum, ‘Temple of Jupiter’ with line of reused statue bases, for Augustus Constantine (`begotten of the gods’), Augusta Helena (as mother of Constantine, grandmother of the two Caesars, and wife of the Divine Constantius), and three missing late dedications, likely to Caesar Constantius I, Caesar Constantine II (on each flank) and the Divine Constantius I (on the central plinth), likely erected as a group 326–30.

duovir and flamen perpetuus. Finally, at Lepcis Magna, the Severan Temple may have been given grey granite column shafts, at a late period, as they lacked any prepared footings [250–442]. From the East, there is only one rededication of a temple on a plaza so far known for the 4th to 5th c. At Sagalassos, the tychaion on the south side of the Upper Agora was converted into an honorific monument dedicated to several emperors / empresses of the Valentinianic and Theodosian dynasty [375–83]. A central statue base was raised up on steps at the centre of the monument, which had an arcaded canopy supported by 4 columns set on pedestals, from which a stone roof sprang in the form of a pyramid with concave sides. The conversion of the temple involved the replacement of the statue base under the canopy by one to the empress Constantia, Gratian’s wife, substituted later by one of the empress Eudoxia, Arcadius’ wife [395–404]. The image was set at the centre of the monument, where a statue for the Tyche of Sagalassos would have previously stood. It is entirely possible that the female Tyche statue was simply reworked to take the features of an

empress, perhaps being given a new head, or new attributes. Dedications to Gratian and Valentinian reuse the pedestals of the monument that face the agora, which supported the columns of the canopy. The pedestals thus dedicated may not have held conventional statue images, but perhaps advertised painted images or busts carried on consoles inserted into the columns. In terms of chronological and regional distribution, new-built and repaired temples on fora / agorai are all spread within the late 3rd to 4th c., when closely dated, being absent in the 5th c. New temples do not seem to go beyond the reign of Constantine, when they were most popular, except at Complutum, where a date around the last quarter of the 4th c. is likely. New ciboria go later, from the 320s to the 370–80s. Repairs last longer than new constructions, at least in the case of Rome, where activity is recorded as late as 399–400, not to mention works carried out here and in Constantinople in the early years of the 6th c., discussed in the next chapter. There is clearly a concentration of temple works in Italy, where a greater number of new and repaired temples are found. Many regions are, however, entirely devoid of either.

328 Late Temple Architecture In terms of architectural style, for new-built temples, we can see the popularity of a temple on a podium with frontal steps, either prostyle or distyle (for a porch 4 or 2 columns wide). We can also note the use of ciboria to cover statues. Trapezoidal distortions of plan sometimes produce plan shapes closer to a parallelogram than a rectangle. The size of these temples is small, with ranges from Mactaris at 2.44 m by ?2.44 m, Ostia 3.6 m by 6 m (the porch having added 2.2 m), Complutum at 4 m by 4 m, at Sagalassos 4 m by 4 m, Rome (Janus) at 5 m by 6.5 m, Saepinum at 10 m by 10.2 m, to Thubursicu Numidarum at 10.7 m by 15.7 m. Only Complutum has a clear precinct, although a terrace in front of Thubursicu’s temple provides something of a forecourt. Porch details are only preserved at two sites. The porch at Thubursicu is unusually well-preserved: it has Ionic capitals with plain columns, on Attic bases. A re-erected column reaches 6.45 m in height. The trapezoidal building at Saepinum also had Ionic columns with Attic bases. We can talk of these structures being carefully decorated, especially at Rome and Ostia. The Temple of Janus at Rome had painted wall plaster on the exterior. The interior walls were covered in a marble revetment socle, with wall-plaster above, featuring paintings. The niche opposite the door was also plastered and painted. At Ostia, the cult statue base inside the temple was revetted in marble, as was the exterior of the structure, and the floor was covered in opus sectile. In contrast, the trapezoidal building at Saepinum had a floor covered in limestone flags, perfectly set in a parallel series; the interior was otherwise plain. But provincial temples were not entirely without such ornaments: the temple at Complutum had an opus sectile floor of bricks and marble slabs, whilst at Thubursicu Numidarum, the cella’s interior had its walls and floor revetted in marble. According to Procopius, the Temple of Janus in Rome still had its bronze doors. Regarding cult images, we have statue fragments, statue bases, and textual indications of statuary (some already mentioned above). The most detail comes from Rome, where the (restored) Temple of Saturn is described in Macrobius’ Saturnalia, which probably dates to ca. 430. The building had a Triton statue on the pediment and another of Saturn inside, with its feet wrapped in woollen bindings (1.8.4–5). Procopius describes a statue of Janus as being present inside its temple in the mid-6th c. At Ostia, the interior contained a base for a cult statue opposite the entrance, whilst at Argos there were two statue socles in the same position, against the back wall. At Thubursicu Numidarum, a podium / tribunal at the rear of the temple probably held a statue, but an ashlar statue socle, attached secondarily, was also

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found against the boundary wall that faced the plaza, along with a Jupiter statue. Altars are attested not only at Complutum, but also at Ostia, and at Argos. In each case, they were set axially in front of the structure, but with only socles for the altars found in situ, not the actual altar-blocks. At Sagalassos, whilst the Tychaion survived unspoliated, its altar has clearly been removed, as revealed by a rectangular water damage-mark, on the paving at the centre of the front side. This altar was likely moved during the conversion of the structure into an imperial sacellum. Late Cults It is easiest to identify ʻcultʼ in the case of the ciboria. One wonders if the imperial transformation of the Tychaion at Sagalassos represented a religious statement. It may have happened as a reaction to the dedication of a new monument with pagan undertones, inside this civic sanctuary: an inscription, which mentions the Tyche, describes the erection of a statue inside a ‘sacred precinct of the gods’ for an acting vicar / consular governor of Lydia, by the boule and demos, ca. 382. The replacement of the Tyche by Constantia can be dated, based on the other associated inscriptions, to 375–83. Thus, it conceivably occurred in 383, within a year of the dedication. Was the alteration of the monument an attempt to combat local paganism with approved imperial devotions? The ciborium of Mactaris suggests that such a structure, which likely covered statues of Constantius II and Julian, was deemed suitable for a government cult. This makes the transformation at Sagalassos look like a more positive choice: to reserve an appropriate building for imperial honours. Perhaps such ciboria were not really considered to be temples in the same way as podium temples were? We might imagine that there was relatively little religious impact when Constantine erected ciboria to the Tyche of Rome and the Tyche of Constantinople in his new capital. Constantine was not really founding his new capital as a ‘pagan city’, as one might think, but just reflecting current political practices. Of other new-built temples, cults are uncertain: Jupiter or an imperial variation is credible at Thubursicu Numidarum, whilst, as noted above, a dedication to Con­ stantine’s family looks likely at Saepinum, for the former Jupiter Temple, if not for the adjacent trapezoidal structure. The latter might have served a non-religious function. Otherwise, cult information is limited to the new temple in Rome, which can be hypothetically designated of as that of Janus, based on a passage of Procopius. This is credible given its position, although the textual description is problematic. It seems to combine an eyewitness report of extant structure in the Forum Romanum, with a literary account of an earlier temple bearing the

Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD

figure e9c

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Sala, Forum, line of reused statue bases, for Constantine and imperial colleagues, likely erected together 317–24

Janus dedication, known to us from coins, which actually stood in the Forum of Nerva. The traditional role of the temple, as recounted by Procopius, was to signify whether the Roman State was at war. It did this through the position of its doors, closed for peace, open for war, into which position they were now stuck. The anecdote reinforces a general impression coming from all new built / rededicated temples, that they were strongly associated with imperial power, including honours due to Rome as the seat of power. They do not seem to be part of deeply-rooted popular religion. As such, the new temples built on fora / agorai may not have been especially controversial, just as their architectural form was unobtrusive. They represent the end of a tradition of temple construction, which had been fading from the 2nd c. in most regions. In complete contrast, the range of cults of repaired temples is far more diverse, with Saturn, Venus, and Castor & Pollux at Rome, Jupiter-Juno-and-Minerva (via the capitolium) at Sergemes, and Liber Pater at Sabratha; these repairs do perhaps better relate to local sentiments and residual paganism, than those relating to new constructions. It is possible that we have missed some rededications, of the kind seen at Saepinum, and that there were rather more imperial cult temples on fora / agorai in the early 4th c. than we realise, serving as privileged centres for government honours. At Sala (Mauretania Tingitana),

two bases, dedicated to Augustus Constantine I and an unnamed Caesar (upper part missing), were found in a line of 5 reused bases (including reused altars) in situ in front of a 5-cella temple on the forum (fig. E9c). The three un-inscribed bases had been fitted with plaques on their surfaces (for inscriptions) which were found missing. The reuse of the altars, and the association of three blank pedestals into the line of 5, suggests that they are part of a single late statue group, and that we could expect them to have been dedicated to other imperial colleagues of the reign of Constantine I, which must be in the period 317–24. The correspondence between the number of bases in the group and the 5 cellae of the temple suggests that we are dealing with a place where honours might have been offered to the imperial college of Constantine, which in these years included 4 other members: Augustus Licinius and the Caesars Licinius II, Crispus, and Constantine II, all of whom were or could have been damned. This association of statue bases and temples, seen at both Sala and Saepinum, suggests that other imperial statue groups of Tetrarchic and Constantinian date, and even of Valentinianic and Theodosian date, might have been the focus of sacrifices or other displays of loyalty. We might imagine ceremonies equivalent to the theatrical performances given to honour Eudoxia at the dedication of her statue on the Augusteion of Constantinople

330 in 404. Such statue groups are found on fora / agorai throughout the empire, at Taracco, Rome, Cuicul, Thibilis, Ureu (4 bases set within a single kerb), Lepcis, Athens, Tegea, and Sagalassos, in several cases visibly set away from temples. In some of these statue groups, emperors were honoured in a cumulative way, with little planning. But at Athens and Tegea, one gets the sense that there were attempts to update statue groups not only after a damnatio, but also by adding new college members. In this way, the agora had a current series of imperial images, during much of the 4th c., which might be honoured by incense sacrifice or some other public ritual. Thus, at Athens, we find a statue group with Augustus Constans replacing the slain Caesar Dalmatius on a statue dedication, which likely necessitated a new head or a new statue, whilst I have already alluded to textual emendations visible at sites including Tegea, where a dedication of Caesar Constantius I was altered to one of Caesar Constantine I, within a wider imperial statue group. Temple Conservation and Destruction We can point to a few temples on fora / agorai where no repair is visible but where good preservation suggests that they were actively conserved as part of the monumental landscape. Most examples of this occur in the West, in 5 out of 6 cases: at Rome (Antoninus and Faustina temple), Sufetula (Capitolium), Thugga (Capitolium), and possibly Lepcis. The last site saw two forum temples covered by a fortification in 534–83, yet no obvious reuse before this date. In the East, we can note only one example of temple preservation on a plaza: at Athens, for the Temple of Ares. The structure seems to have served as part of the rebuilt agora, despite adjacent buildings being replaced or re-planned [395–420]. Reuse of temples is also attested, with a few examples coming from the West. An inscription from Abthugni in Africa, dating to 383–92, refers to the cellae of the Capitolium being empty, and probably regulated its new uses. Conversions of temples on fora / agorai to other use are known in 5 sites from the West: from Emerita (temple cult unknown) [church, 400–667]; Tarraco (Augustus Temple) [church, 400–500]; Trieste (Capitolium propylaeum) [church, 313–565]; Lucus Feroniae [civil basilica, undated]; Nesactium (Capitolium) [domestic occupation, undated]. From the East, we have 7 examples from 6 sites: from Aizanoi (Zeus temple) [church, undated], Perge (Tetragonal Agora) [?fountain or cistern, undated], Alexandria (Tychaion) [wine shop, 350–400], Cyrene (twice, Augusteion and Temple E6) [audience hall / secretarium, house / ?bouleuterion, both 352–400], Antioch in Syria (Temple of Muses) [praetorium of the comes orientis 330–337 or 392–95], and Alexandria (Caesareum) [church, 339–345]. The number of conversions into

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secular uses is significant, especially amongst those dated firmly to the 4th c. Only one church conversion is early. It is also possible to see temples on fora / agorai being demolished or incapacitated during this time, on 8 occasions at 5 sites in the West, and on 8 occasions at 8 sites in the East. In Hispania, at Emerita, in the Provincial Forum, there was a spoliation of architectural elements relating to pagan cult in 4th and 5th c. [date unconfirmed]. However, it cannot yet be determined if this was only for temples, or if it was part of wider robbing of all elements of the forum. In Italy, at Brescia, spoliation of the capitolium was followed by dumping and beaten earth layers [400–550]; at Verona, the triporticus wall surrounding the capitolium was destroyed [400–500]; at Ostia, the Temple of ‘Rome and Augustus’ was levelled as early as third quarter of the 3rd c. [250–429, perhaps 250–75]. In Africa, at Carthage (Forum), demolition took place [337–400] and on the Admiralty Island, Temple 2 was obliterated within the first phase of encroachment [250–525]; at Sabratha, one temple fell into disuse [306–62, probably very end of that range], whilst, after an earthquake or other disaster, two temples were spoliated for the new civil basilica, and another was cut off from the forum [all 340–442]. In Macedonia, at Philippi, baths were built over the temple area [284–527]. In Asia Minor, at Ephesus, the Temple of Domitian was destroyed and spoliated [400–403], whilst the prytaneion was spoliated and occupied by artisans [starting sometime 300–675]; at Miletus, Dionysus’ temple was ruined and converted into a church [392–417]; at Pessinus, the Sebasteion saw destruction within the temple precinct [392–417]. In the Levant, at Antioch, the Temple of Hermes was removed [330–337 or 392–95], and at Jerusalem, the Temple of Venus-Aphrodite was demolished to allow the building of the Holy Sepulchre [326]. We should not get too excited by this evidence of destruction, in our quest to study religious change. A qualified answer is required, based on the more closely dated examples. Sometimes, examples of destruction can be related to earthquakes or other traumas, affecting wide areas of a site, as at Sabratha and perhaps Ostia. Here, what is important is the decision not to rebuild temples. At Sabratha, this came in the second half of the 4th c. The temples here were damaged in the same way as adjacent civil buildings, yet the latter were restored, using spolia from the temples, which were otherwise left as ruins. Of other cases, the destruction at Antioch involved a prefect who cannot be identified, unless we accept Malalas’ account is confused in its chronology. There are, however, a few sites where religious motives can be admitted: at Jerusalem, a pagan temple was removed to reveal a Christian sacred site, whilst at Alexandria, the emperor gave up an imperial cult temple for Christian use. The

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temple destroyed on the forum at Carthage might also represent a temple destroyed for religious-political reasons, as could those at Ephesus and Pessinus. These are all prominent sites, where interventions by the imperial court could signal a change in religious allegiance with minimal disruption, affecting national political symbols (shrines dedicated to emperors) more than local cultural treasures. Furthermore, temple conversions to churches are rare and where dated, often occurs long after any critical time of interreligious conflict. We have only the example of Miletus which might fit the chronology of the Theodosian legislation of 395. Otherwise, the examples we have here and in the next chapter are 5th to 7th c. In regional terms, it does seem that temple preservation (without conversion) was more popular in the West, whilst temple conversion (into varied uses) was more popular in the East. For some regions, we have no data, either because cities ended / drastically declined before religious charges really took place, as in Britain or in parts of the Balkans, or because we have had difficulty locating fora / agorai, as in the Near East and in Egypt. As we have noted, statues of anthropomorphic pagan gods, not just to emperors or deified political ideas, could still be found on fora / agorai. According to the 2nd c. testimony of Pausanias, religious statues were also commonly found in agorai of cities in Greece.158 Letters between Augustine and Maximus of Madauros, in 390, refer to two statues of Mars and possibly other deities, standing on the forum of this city at this time. We have seen, at Thamugadi and Cuicul, that such statues were indeed part of the ornaments of civic plazas at this date. If Maximus is any guide, there were pagans who treasured these images, as symbols of religious potency, to which they may have sometimes offered cult.159 But the rarity of finds of religious statue bases on ancient plazas, outside of Africa, likely reflects late antique removal of such monuments. Zeus and Hermes had been popular on agorai in the East, the latter being the patron of the market, but I know of only two surviving statue bases of Hermes. Both are from Africa: from the macellum at Bulla Regia and from a forum temple at Thugga, whilst the Hermes temple on the agora of Antioch was demolished either under Constantine or at the end of the 4th c., according to Malalas. The survival 158  Religious statues of agorai in Greece: Paus. 1.35.2, 2.13.4, 7.22.2 (market Hermes). 159  Madauros: August. Ep. 16 and 17. Thubursicu Numidarum: bases for Jupiter and Hercules for safety of Diocletian and Maximian by ordo and people (AE (1940) 18 = BCTH 1940 xxvi–xxvii with AE (1957) 94 = BCTH 1954 (1956) 195–96 and ILAlg 1, 1228 = ILS 9357b = AE (1904) 5) Lepelley (1979) 214– 15. Rome, image of Mars and city founders, dedicated under Maxentius: CIL 6.33856 = ILS 8935 = AE (1900) 88 = AE (1900) 89 = AE (1903) 5 = AE (2002) 148.

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of pagan statues in Africa is probably due to the sudden degradation or abandonment of fora in this region during the middle decades of the 5th c. Thus, any Christian removal of pagan statues, in the East, is likely to have happened in the later 5th to 6th c. rather than the 4th or early 5th c., sometime after the Christian cause had been won. It might, however, have happened somewhat earlier, as part of wholesale efforts to remove old statues from Greek agorai. This could have happened in the mid-3rd to early 4th c., based on the general background of surviving imperial and civic dedications in many places, a phenomenon one also encounters in Spain and parts of Italy.160 Altars on fora / agorai almost certainly fell out of use in the 4th c.; even prior to the sack of Rome by Alaric, pagans were not allowed to sacrifice in the forum, where, according to Zosimus, they thought these rites must take place.161 However, archaeological traces of this transition are not substantial. An altar in the Tetrastoon of Aphrodisias was left in situ, although partly buried, by the builders of the new square, whilst substantial remains of altars on the agora of Thasos survived antiquity. A single example from Argos, in front of the late temple was active in the mid-4th c., apparently according to votive lamps and other ceramics recovered there, which I was not able to confirm.162 In the 2nd c., Pausanias mentions heroa (that is, monumental tombs of the heroic dead) on the agorai of several cities in Greece.163 Surprisingly, such tombs survived the period in good condition on agorai at Xanthos and Termessos. Whilst this might seem odd, we should perhaps remember the continuing interest in urban foundation stories, reflected in the writing of civic local histories, or patria, into the 6th c. and beyond. However, the ‘heroon’ incorporated into the episcopal complex at Philippi has recently been deconstructed, as a 2nd c. temple overlying an already robbed tomb.164 160   Statues of Hermes: Bulla Regia: Beschaouch, Hanoune and Thébert (1977) 89; Thugga: Golfetto (1961) 36. Antioch, Shrine of Hermes in agora demolished and replaced by basilica of an otherwise unknown praetorian prefect Rufinus under Constantine: Malalas 13.3, Downey (1961) 622–31. More credibly, Zos. 5.2 has a well-known praetorian prefect called Rufinus building a basilica stoa in Antioch, in or soon after AD 393. 161  Sacrifice, at Rome, as reported by Zos. 5.41.2–3. He says not one pagan dared to follow ancestral custom. 162  Altars: Aphrodisias, altar left in place by builders of Tetra­ stoon, later used as a sundial: Roueché (1989a) 42, 91–92. Altars on agora of Thasos: Grandjean and Salviat (2000) 72–73; Roux (1953) 272–76 and (1955) 351–52. Argos: I was not able to locate this evidence, which I believe is contained within Karivieri (1996) and Koutoussaki (2008). 163  Heroa: Paus. 1.35.2, 1.42.3, 10.36.4. 164  Heroon at Philippi: Koukouli-Chrysanthaki and Bakirtzis (1995) 49–54; Lazarides (1964) 372–74; see latest view in

332 Churches The forum was not a typical site for urban churches in the West during the 4th and 5th c. In this period, they were often built on the edge of cities, close to their walls.165 Nevertheless, there are some examples of churches built on fora known from the 4th and especially the 5th c., where churches seem to be fitted within the monumental setting of the plaza, instead of being built over it: in the West, there are between 3 and 7 cases, from 7 sites. Unfortunately, there is much uncertainty over the evidence. At Aosta, a church was built on one side of the forum, sometime during the 4th c. [pending, report not seen]. However, we cannot be sure if the Basilica Sancti Stephani at Arles adjoined the forum, or when exactly before 525 the civil basilica of Aix was converted into a church, or when prior to 565 a church was built in the propylaeum of the capitolium at Trieste. At Zadar, in Dalmatia, a late antique church on the forum is similarly undated. In Africa, we have better information: at Sabratha, a church was installed in the civil basilica on the market place [400–500], and at Iol Caesarea, a possible church was also built at the side of the forum during the same century [425–50]. At the latter site, we know that the forum plaza remained intact and clean, at the same time as rubbish piled up behind the church, beyond the edge of the square. At Sabratha, a cemetery eventually spread over the open space of the forum itself, but not until after the Justinianic reconquest. Thus, at Iol Caesarea, and probably at Sabratha, churches coexisted for some time with open plazas, as new monumental elements within them.166 In the East, churches were built on the sides of agorai at 15 sites, although they can only be dated in 3 cases: at Jerusalem (the Church of the Holy Sepulchre) in 326; at Alexandria sometime between 339 and 345; at Constantinople (Hagia Sophia) in 360. Churches were also built on the edge of civic plazas at Serdica, Novae, Philippi, Thasos, Elis, Tegea, Rhodes, Xanthos, Antiphellos (Kaş), Selge, Cremna, Beroia (Aleppo), and Samaria. Some of these buildings might date as early as the 4th–5th c., but unfortunately no strong archaeological chronology is so far available. Of the closely-dated examples, Theodosian Hagia Sophia and the Holy Sepulchre are both notable for their failure to use adjacent agorai as monumental forecourts: rather, they point their atria away from the plazas on which they are built. This tendency continues in the 6th c., with only a few exceptions. The Church seems to have had its own internal Mentzos (2005). Interest in urban foundation stories into the 6th c.: Liebeschuetz (2001) 234–37. 165  Position of churches 4th and early 5th c.: Gauthier (1999) 198– 202; Cantino Wataghin (2003) 224–56. 166  Western churches on fora: see appendix U1. For Sabratha: see appendix V5c.

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focus, rather seeking to ‘conquer’ the secular public sphere, despite becoming ever more prominent. Very often, church builders preferred to orientate their buildings eastwards, ignoring the architectural possibilities that classical market places offered. As a consequence, Christian meeting places never reached the same level of architectural dominance within cities that civic temples had enjoyed, even if a high level of visibility was achieved. Further, as graphs 46–49 show, churches built on plazas peaked only in the mid-6th c., not in the late 4th c., whilst those built over plazas seem likely to reflect wider patterns of decay.167 Temporality The temporality of fora / agorai can be reconstructed from both direct testimony and implication. According to Libanius and Chrysostom the popularity of agorai was seasonal. Chrysostom notes that in winter people stayed at home, as the agora was too muddy. Libanius remarks that citizens of cities that did not have colonnaded streets (as his Antioch did) had to meet socially in the agora and so were kept at home during the winter rain.168 He also boasts that other cities had a special time of day when people filled the agora, but not his lively home town. Though Libanius’ first remark seems credible, we should probably prefer the testimony of Chrysostom on the second point. He tells us that even at Antioch / Constantinople the agora was full during the morning, at the third hour especially (ca. 9am), before the sun had filled the market place.169 As the chapter on street life demonstrated, deliveries of low value agricultural goods took place in the morning, with the beasts being back home by midday, which suggests that the animals arrived in the agora in the first hour (from ca. 7am) to set up. Chrysostom notes that people went there after calling on their neighbours and that it was also the main destination for his congregation after church. He also tells us that after leaving the agora one might go to bathe or to eat. This suggests that in at least the larger eastern cities something like the traditional daily rhythm of salutatio, forum, bath, and dinner was still intact.170 167  Eastern churches on agorai: see appendix U2. For undated churches: see appendix U5. 168  Seasonal use: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Jo. 58.4, (PG 59.320) mud is ὁ πηλός, Lib. Or. 11.215–17. 169  Time of day: Lib. Or. 11.171, Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Act. 5.2 (PG 60.51), Hom. in Act. 35.3 (PG 60.256). It is not possible to identify whether the latter homily refers to Antioch or Constantinople: see Lavan (2007a) 157–58, with further references. 170  Agora after calling on neighbours, but before bath or returning home: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Tim. 14.4 (PG 62.576). Before going for a bath: Hom. in Matth. 5.1 (PG 57.55). After communion: Hom. in Matth. 5.1 (PG 57.55).

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Cassiodorus presents a social rhythm that looks similar to a Roman noble of his day: ‘to converse with one’s equals, to stroll through the forum, to look in at some skilful craftsman at his work, to push one’s own cause through the law courts, play counters, go to the baths with one’s acquaintances, to have a banquet.’171 We know from other sources, that the law court was often a morning activity, as it appears in the schoolbook forum scene, as too were schools, that we know clustered around civic plazas. Based on evidence described in the chapter on street life, we can also imagine a midday pause as people retreated for siesta, and then a return for some people to the agora in the late afternoon. It is, however, hard to imagine stall holders continuing this long, given the earlier peak, with most likely packing up after midday. Chrysostom does record some evening use at Antioch.172 Even so, in smaller cities one might expect this to have been confined to gatherings round thermopoleia, rather than anything more complex. Wedding processions were, however, likely an evening affair, and potentially it might not take much for a gathering to take place under lamp light, especially during festivals that passed by a city’s main square. Destruction, Demolition, Degradation, and Abandonment In some cases, churches were built over the open space of fora / agorai during the 4th–5th c. This dramatic development was a more negative process than building a church on the edge of a civic square. It rendered plazas partially or completely useless as places for gathering in their traditional form. As such, it can be taken as an indicator that fora / agorai were being abandoned. Unfortunately, as will be stressed in the next chapter, very few such churches are properly dated. We have two examples, both from Asia Minor, dating from the 4th to 5th c.: at Iasos in Caria, where a small apsidal ‘martyrion’ was built alongside tombs established in the agora [313–404], and at Elaiussa Sebaste, where a tetragonal agora was entirely converted into a double-apsed church [408–33]. However, there are other classes of evidence for the abandonment, destruction, demolition, degradation of fora / agorai in the 4th–5th c., that do not involve church building, but are better dated, without which this chapter would not be complete. This evidence has to be considered carefully, as the patterns of change are not always the same, even within one city, and may 171  Part of social rhythm: Cassiod. Var. 8.31, telling curiales and possessores of Brutti to live in a city for part of the year. 172  Evening use: Hom. in 1 Cor. 12.6 (PG 61.104), Hom. ad pop. Ant. 17.2 (PG 49.179).

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involve several different processes. Furthermore, change was not always unidirectional: at several sites, phases of recovery are visible, where abandonment or destruction represents only a temporary setback, after which maintenance continues. I suggest five major processes, each to be considered in turn. A first process is where destruction took place on fora / agorai, of a kind experienced in previous centuries, the result of earthquake or war, after which rebuilding took place, but on a more modest scale. We can see this at Rodez: after a late 3rd c. fire, the back wall of the east portico was reinforced with reused material, whilst other walls were repaired in the south-east corner [287.5–300]. Destruction is also visible at Argos, where the forum portico collapsed [378–403], before being covered by a new, higher walking surface, in which there was no portico, and into which monumental repairs were set. Other destructions might be visible to archaeology, such as fires in the fora of Iol Caesarea or Rome, but they are not relevant. Like the great fires of Constantinople, they did not lead to the end of a public plaza, but simply to a new phase of building, no less monumental than in previous centuries. In other cities, no rebuilding at all took place after such a destruction, indicating a decision to stop investing in at least one agora within a city, or to abandon a city / part of a city. This occurred at Hierapolis in Phrygia, when an earthquake destroyed the main agora of the city, which was henceforth left outside the new walls [350–400]. This is our only eastern example. Other cases are all western, coming notably from Hispania: at Complutum, the roofs of buildings surrounding the forum collapsed, with no recovery visible [408–500]; at Tarraco, in the Civic Forum, the destruction of the civil basilica by fire sometime in 361–86 represented the end of the complex; at Baelo Claudia, an earthquake led to the forum paving becoming deformed, the civil basilica collapsing, and the macellum being turned into a rubbish tip, with a new settlement established on a different street alignment [287.5–387.5]. Similar things may have happened in central and southern Italy: at Herdonia, the excavators blame later 4th c. earthquakes, which can be detected in some parts of their site, for the cessation of activity on the forum. This is marked at Herdonia by a period of abandonment, followed again by the creation of a new settlement, less nucleated in character, established on a different axis. Another Italian destruction comes from Aquileia, where, after a fire, the forum was systematically abandoned, with notable inscriptions turned face-down [379–404]. The absence of eastern examples reveals that failure to rebuild was essentially a problem of the West, which did not affect the East, to anything like the same degree. Even Hierapolis is a suspect case: the abandonment of the agora of the city

334 can perhaps be explained by its great size, for a middling eastern city, in which the enormous Roman agora occupied a peripheral position. The cost of rebuilding this ‘white elephant’ was evidently not easy to justify in the later 4th c.173 A second process is where systematic demolition takes place on a civic square within a continuing city, in the absence of catastrophe or war, as if the plaza was now irrelevant. This occurred at Exeter in 365–455, and has been claimed for London ca. 300, although the evidence is complex. We might recall Celti in Hispania, where a forum, identified based on its plan, was demolished to build a private house, as early as the late 2nd c. / early 3rd c. Such cases were rare, but can be taken as indicating a change of priorities, where continuing urban authorities were still able to recover a cash value from building plots in difficult times, in regions where the need for such structures had perhaps never been entirely accepted. It can be difficult to identify demolished sites: at Butrint (Buthrotum), the forum paving is preserved by a rubble deposit that contains much marble veneer and many architectural fragments; this suggests destruction, sometime in the 4th c., yet the continuing vitality of the rest of the city makes one think that demolition here was somehow intended, rather than being the result of a natural disaster.174 A third process is where a type of degradation takes place which saw negative architectural modifications. This notably involved the spoliation of veneers / architectural elements, perhaps with selective demolition of major structural elements such as porticoes, or the covering of stone slabs with beaten earth, whilst the open plaza still kept its traditional function. In the case of Gloucester, the removal of the forum slabs [300–400] may be part of a wider demolition programme, given that robbing is followed by the deposition of a gritty black loam, containing a small quantity of building rubble. In contrast, at Segobriga, the bronze letters of a great inscription set in the paving were robbed, although much of the forum paving was left intact. A dump laid on the forum containing a broken statue, along with the spoliation debris from the adjacent basilica, reveals that we have a case of degradation [250–400]. The same is true at Emerita, where in the Colonial Forum paving slabs were apparently covered by rubbish dumps prior to 380, without stripping all the paving [before 380, but with more dating evidence pending]. This did 173  Destruction with no rebuilding: Hierapolis (appendix V5c), Complutum (V4b), Tarraco civic forum (X1d), Baelo Claudia (V4a), Herdonia (V1), Aquileia (V4b). 174  Systematic demolition within a continuing city: Exeter (appendix V4b), London (V4a), Celti (V4a), Butrint (Buthrotum) (V4a).

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not stop a substantial ashlar building being constructed following this, sometime before 450. In the nearby Provincial Forum, there was apparently a spoliation in the 4th to 5th c., followed by buildings set over the plaza in 5th c., although I was not able to obtain dating evidence. At Corduba’s Colonial Forum, decay is thought to have started sometime after the time of Constantius II (reigned 337–361), who received a statue there. Thus, there is a suggestion that, at some sites in Spain, degradation was occurring as early as the second half of the 4th c. However, this picture is not necessarily true of all cities on the Mediterranean coast, which may have experienced decay somewhat later. Tarraco is a very ambiguous case, whereby the massive Provincial Forum received its last honorific dedication in 468–72 (for a fountain), even though parts of its paving had been removed [sometime prior to 450], whilst an access tower was spoliated [sometime 450–500], before being used as a dump [475–500]. Further east, Arles likewise provides conflicting evidence. Excavations have shown how the forum outside the imperial palace was spoliated and a portico was demolished, with domestic structures built over it, in the period 400–50. We must reconcile this with an account of Sidonius Ep. 1.11.7 (AD 461) of an architecturally intact forum in the city, with surviving columns: the plaza was still a setting for important social encounters, which are convincing in their cultural details. Was there another forum? Or was only part of the plaza spoliated? Conversely, we can see spoliation occurring long after a plaza had started to decay: at Uchi Maius, in Africa, a lime-kiln was established [500–525], following a phase of abandonment and ruin, when rural activities had been seen in the forum.175 When we move into Italy, things become a little clearer, and the contradictions experienced at Tarraco and Arles seem to resolve themselves. At Verona, we have demolition, spoliation, and architectural survival alongside each other, as seen from a combination of archaeology and texts. The city is not the only case in Italy where different trends coexist: we can use archaeology to illuminate this issue. Thus, the stripping of marble veneers or paving slabs is not the last decent phase on fora at Rome (Forum of Caesar) [400–425], at Ostia (Palaestra) 175   Degradation by spoliation: Gloucester (appendix V4a), Segobriga (V4a), Taracco (V4b), Arles (V4b), Uchi Maius (V4b, limekiln). Tarraco: On a late dedication for Leo and Anthemius: RIT 100 = CIL 2.4109 = CIL 2–14–02, 947 = ILS 815 (AD 468–72), now thought it could be for a fountain, due to the hole in this block around which the dedication is written: LSA 1986. Arles: Sid. Apoll. Ep. 1.11.7 (AD 461) and Caesarius of Arles (Life of Caesarius 1.31, 2.30 (first half of 6th c., not seen). On the debate trying to reconcile the two sources of evidence: see Loseby (1996) 52–54.

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[443–?450], or at Nora (Sardinia) [419–44, poor date]. After spoliation, simple but still monumental repairs to porticoes occur, during the 5th c. In Rome, after the removal of veneer from its shops, the Forum of Caesar subsequently saw a restoration affecting 70 columns of the Atrium Libertatis, likely including the porticoes of the plaza [491–93]. At Ostia, after being stripped of its marble, the Palaestra portico was given a second set of reinforcement piers [dated to 443 based on an earthquake]. At Nora, after the porticoes were stripped, substantial rooms were established off them, as if a public function remained [444–69, poor date]. Certainly, these porticoes were now not as beautiful as once they had been. But perhaps, when covered by a layer of whitewash, they might still have looked quite impressive and have served their original function well.176 It is important to note that archaeologists have only been finding such nuanced sequences, of monumental repairs carried out after spoliation of veneer, in the last ten years or so. There may be many more such cases to be detected, as archaeologists move away from unidirectional models of decline, which are clearly not appropriate to all regions of the late antique world.177 Alongside such sites, there are other cities where the pattern of spoliation is just very difficult to interpret. At Rodez, it is very irregular, with some parts of the forum robbed and others not. Was this because some parts were already deeply buried, or because spoliation was interrupted? At Lepcis, the plaza of the Severan Forum was stripped of its paving but the portico paving was spared: perhaps because the portico slabs were smaller and so less useful, or because the paving on the plaza was exposed to less wear and was thus considered expendable. As we will see, a similar pattern of spoliation is visible later, under Umayyad rule, at Scythopolis, whereby paving slabs were stripped from the open yards of the agora and from the ‘Sigma’ but not from the porticoes of either plaza. A fourth process is where another degradation takes place, which damaged the monumental aspect of a plaza rather than its architectural decoration: this is uncontrolled encroachment, in the form of industrial occupation or housing. If encroachment was controlled, with porticoes divided into cellular shops or a large house built inside a public building, then it does not really

represent degradation, but monumental change, which had been occurring in classical cities since their inception. In order to study the issue properly, it is best to consider both uncontrolled and controlled encroachment, by industrial and domestic-commercial functions, so as to properly recognise the distinction. Uncontrolled encroachment of fora / agorai by industry seems to be first attested in the West. At Silchester, charcoal spreads were found over the forum surface, associated with industrial activities carried out in the basilica, at the start of our period [259–84]. At Amiens, in the eastern courtyard of the forum, slag was dumped on the plaza surface and a crucible containing copper or bronze was found, together indicating primary production [364–89].178 At Thessalonica, we can also see highly invasive industrial practices taking place on the agora (in the form of clay pits and kilns), although adjacent shops continued to be occupied and streets maintained [date 400–425]. At Iasos, in Asia Minor, a rubbish dump of 5th c. ceramics is known from one portico / stoa, which may relate to industrial activity, as a pottery kiln of 6th c. date was excavated within the forum. In each case, the presence of industry represents a major change of function for a plaza. A lot depends on how artisans disposed of waste and whether this caused the monumental nature of the plaza to be entirely disregarded. Elsewhere, industry does not seem to have had such a messy impact: its presence looks more like controlled encroachment. At Grumentum, a foundry was established in a room off the south portico [300–400], but was not the last phase of forum buildings, which saw reflooring of the portico. But whilst the foundry provides important evidence for a phase of occupation, it represents also a partial degradation of the square. Similarly, at Argos, a foundry excavated in the Roman south portico [‘5th–6th c.’ date, certainly after 387.5] does not represent a mortally invasive encroachment, more of relaxation of rules: the portico itself had largely disappeared in the collapse mentioned earlier.179 Encroachment by housing or retail structures could also be controlled or uncontrolled in its extent. In case of controlled encroachment, plazas often survive as open courts, alongside their porticoes, despite some degree of invasive building. In Hispania, at Astigi, buildings, buildings around the forum were progressively substituted by

176  Degradation by spoliation, Italy: see appendix V4b. 177   Demolition, spoliation and architectural survival in Italy: Verona (appendix V4b), Rome Forum of Caesar (K2a), Ostia (Palaestra) (K2a), Nora (V4b). The spoliation of the forum and its paving at Luni is not dated, though the event is suggested as 4th–5th c. in publications, without further details. This spoliation was a separate process from silting over the robbed slabs in 500–550 (V4c).

178  Artisanal activity is also attested in the last phases of the forum of Scolacium, prior to abandonment, although details are not published [408–500]: see appendix V4a. 179  Encroachment, by industrial occupation: Silchester, charcoal spreads (appendix V4a); Amiens, slag dumping & crucible (K2a); Grumentum, foundry (V4a); Argos, foundry (V5a); Iasos, ceramics dump (V2); Thessalonica clay pits and kilns next to continuing shops (V5b, Y6).

336 housing, but the main square remained open and intact, apparently up to the 5th c. [dating pending]. In southern Gaul, at Rodez, tabernae were converted into secluded domestic units, with hearths [during 300–350], a chronologically separate development from the building of a dwelling in the east portico, in the 6th c. As far as we can see, this plaza continued to be an open square in the 4th c., with unobstructed porticoes. In Italy, at Verona, the west portico of the forum was taken over by ‘hovels’ [apparently in the 5th c.], whilst the ancient architectural structures above them seem to have survived intact [I was not able to establish the basis of dating]. At Nora, the east and west porticoes also had encroachment rooms, some with hearths, established within the denuded structures, after stripping [444–69]. More fragile structures, now only indicated by traces of mortar, built over the plaza paving, may be a slightly later development given their difficult construction technique. Admittedly, we have no way of dating them separately. At Ostia, rooms were built inside the Palaestra portico, at a higher occupation level than the ancient plaza [434–?450]: they look like houses rather than shops, as there were few doorways from them giving out onto the plaza. At Egnatia, the plaza surface was lost to earth deposits but was not built over whilst the north-west portico was ruined, with a new row of rooms set over it, with beaten earth floors [this phase of decay began 375–400]. In Africa, at Belalis Maior, the rooms opening onto the porticoes of the forum were subdivided in the 5th c., probably to serve as habitations [no reasoning is given by Thébert for the dating]. In Greece, at Argos, we see the installation of houses with 5th–6th c. occupation, in the western part of the Roman south portico [within occupation strata dated to 387.5–600]. In Cyrenaica, at Cyrene, a good deal of housing was built in the open agora during the later 3rd and 4th c., but, at the same time, there was extensive investment in repairing and improving the civic public buildings that surrounded the plaza.180 Egnatia and Cyrene deserve special consideration, amongst ʻcontrolled encroachmentsʼ by housing. At Egnatia, the portico was demolished and the plaza level raised, but very little of the open area was built over. Furthermore, rooms constructed over the portico seem to have served as shops, as they contained balances and many coins, alongside finds suggesting that chandlery was practiced here. Thus, the 5th c. forum of Egnatia, 180  Encroachment, by domestic or commercial occupation, structured: Astigi (appendix V4a); Segodunum (Rodez) (V4b); Verona (V4b); Nora (V4b); Ostia, Palaestra (K4a); Egnatia (V4b); Belalis Maior (V4b); Argos, installation of houses in the western part of the Roman south portico (V5a); Cyrene, 250–75 on the south side of the agora, 352–400 on the northeast corner of the agora, ca. 400 on the agora (V5a).

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whilst losing its fine porticoes and stone paving, was still an open space on which commerce was carried out in a recognisably Roman manner. Cyrene presents an almost opposite case: here, housing was first partially set inside some public buildings, but spread in a more and more chaotic manner across the plaza: it began in 250–75 on the south side of the agora, spread in 352–400 to the north-east corner of the agora, then ca. 400, became haphazard, reducing the open area by up to half, so that it was effectively divided into three sub-courts. Yet, for all of this time, public buildings set around the same agora continued to be rebuilt or patched up. This coexistence of monumental repair and invasive domestic encroachment is unique in the late antique world. As such, the development of Cyrene’s agora recalls the development of a medieval market place, progressively foreshortened by private construction. Thus, we have, at Egnatia, the survival of a classical architectural frame without its monumental buildings, whereas, at Cyrene, we have the survival of the monumental buildings, without the architectural setting. Egnatia is, however, representative of many sites in the West Mediterranean, whilst Cyrene is exceptional in the East, and so cannot serve as a model. Uncontrolled encroachment by housing or retail is present at a handful of other sites, almost all western. This process was both unstructured and unmonumental. In Italy, at Ostia, wooden structures occupied the open yard in the final phase, probably after the encroachments of 438–450, as they did at Scolacium, in the final occupation phase [408–500]. In Africa, at Thamugadi, slots were cut into the forum paving, suggesting that a change of function occurred at a late period, although it cannot be dated. At Carthage, the first phase of encroachment [sometime in 250–525] involved the construction of irregular secondary buildings and structures on the north-east side of the plaza, towards the portico. Here, there were at least two successive periods of stone and earth foundations, for mudbrick structures, later cut by pits. At Uchi Maius, after silting, a series of rooms were built, extending over the north-east portico, which were set around a courtyard and made out of architectural elements, paving, and honorific monuments taken from the square [387.7–412.5]. In the Balkans, at Nicopolis ad Istrum, the agora saw pits and a drain cut through the agora, from the years around 400 [began in 395–420]. In the latter two cases, we can clearly see that occupation is continuing but that respect for the plaza is not what it once was. Did these unstructured encroachments represent a rejection of the forum / agora? Yes, they probably did, but they concern a relatively small number of sites: a good number of other cities were prepared to keep encroachment within the porticoes, or to otherwise confine it, and so keep plazas open. Furthermore, in the

Fora and Agorai during the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD

East, any kind of degradation, either from spoliation or encroachment, was very rare in the 4th–5th c.181 In a fifth process, there are sites where abandonment can be signalled: from the accumulation of waterborne silt, the dumping of secondary rubbish deposits, the appearance of a cemetery, or the intrusion of agricultural facilities, which suggest a radically different and less intensive use of space. With the arrival of silt deposits, we see either the failure of free-running drains to carry away water-borne earth, or the results of a catastrophic flood, in which deposits were overwhelming and were not cleared away. It is most likely that we are usually dealing with the first type of event, even if reports often describe ‘silt’ accumulation in an undifferentiated manner. In the listing that follows, I include here examples of both temporary and final periods of abandonment within Late Antiquity, but do not include abandonments of fora from Gallic sites such as Cambodunum, Augst, and Glanum, where large fora show few signs of occupation after the 3rd c., or Bavai, given up in around 260/70, with a fortification established shortly after.182 Equally, I do not include Cosa (Italy) and Monte Iato (Sicily), which seem to have become very different in character sometime before the start of our period, resembling villages rather than cities in their level of occupation. The story of these plazas is not within the remit of this study, having come to an end as civic centres prior to the start of our period. There were many urban stories in Antiquity, of both growth and decay. Decay, just like growth, is not confined to the 4th to 6th c., but this book is. Silts and dark earth are attested in Britain, at Gloucester, where they are represented by a black loam, found above the latest surface. This likely relates to the presence of some kind of gardening activity. Its soil was perhaps based on the tilling of silt deposits or of soil that had been dumped here [300–400 or later]. In Hispania, at Regina, at the beginning of the 5th c., drains were blocked and earth was built up, indicating abandonment [dating pending]. In Sardinia, at Nora, the forum was covered by abandonment layers, which must have included silt as this material filled a cistern [perhaps starting in 419–444]. In Italy, at Egnatia, late buildings on the plaza are set within silt at ca. 0.3 m above the level of the paving, which was not robbed. This silting must have occurred sometime prior to 400. In Africa, at Belalis Maior, the paving of the forum was covered 181  Encroachment, by domestic or commercial occupation, less structured and less monumental: Ostia, Palaestra (appendix K4a); Scolacium (V4a); Carthage, the first phase of encroachment (appendix V4b); Uchi Maius, series of rooms built over the north-east portico (V4b); Thamugadi, slots cut into the paving (V4b); Nicopolis ad Istrum (V5b). 182  Abandonment in the 3rd c., in Gaul and Hispania: see appendix V4a.

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by a layer of very friable dark earth, some 0.15 m -0.2 m thick [beginning in 400–412.5]. At Uchi Maius, silting began without the paving or statues bases being robbed. At Lepcis, both the Old Forum and the Severan Forum show signs of decay. On the Old Forum, buildings of the reconquest period were set at 0.5 m and 0.87 m above the Roman / Late Roman paving level, a development which must have occurred between 355 and 543, by which time the old surface had become covered in silt or sand. In the Severan Forum, 0.5 m of flood sand built up after the paving had been robbed, all of which happened sometime between 408 and 543. Rubbish dumps are known on fora in Hispania in two cases: at Aurgi (Andalucia), where the plaza was used for this purpose [sometime 350–412.5], and at Tarraco (Provincial Forum), after spoliation of part of the paving [440–50] and of a staircase tower [475–500]. Cemeteries over fora are known from two examples in Britain: they occur at Lincoln [began 388–600] and Exeter [began 365–455]. These examples, which potentially or definitely fall within the 4th–5th c., reflect the early decline of Britain. Other examples of cemeteries on public plazas are usually dated to the 6th–7th c., or are not closely dated, as at Belalis Maior. Agricultural installations can be suspected at many sites, but not always confirmed. At Uchi Maius, an olive press was installed within silt layers in the north-east zone of the forum [364–512.5], at a different moment to the encroaching structures described above.183 This review of the evidence allows us to identify some regional trends. It is clear that the East is hardly affected by any of these, even if there was an ‘agora wobble’ in the southern Balkans in the last quarter of the 4th c., when a number of sites saw episodes of decay or degradation, affecting Thessalonica, Argos, Corinth, and Butrint, perhaps directly or indirectly reflecting military crisis (see graph 49, giving an early peak). But this was just a temporary setback for eastern civic squares. Admittedly, there is little monumental investment in agorai in the mid-5th c., in this part of the empire, but the cleaning of agorai and the basic maintenance of sewers must have continued, in a manner which it did not in Hispania, Gaul, Italy, and Africa. In these western regions, ‘5th c. downgrading’, also seen in the chapter on streets, became visible in public plazas. Here, there were varied degrees of degradation, as some cities in Italy and Africa kept their plazas open, despite spoliation, demolitions, encroachments, and loss of paved surfaces, whereas 183  Decay, silting: Gloucester (V4a); Uchi Maius (V4b); Belalis Maior (V4b); Regina (V4b); Egnatia (V4b); Lepcis Magna old forum (V4b); Lepcis Magna Severan Forum (V4b). Decay, rubbish deposition: Aurgi (V4a); Tarraco provincial forum (V4b). Cemeteries: Lincoln (V1); Exeter (V4b); Belalis Maior (V4b). Agricultural activity: Uchi Maius (V4b).

338 other cities did not, especially in Hispania and Africa. Sometimes decay must have come quickly, at a moment in the 5th c., as plenty of sites in Africa and some in Italy conserved paving buried under layers of silt. Here, dislocation had occurred suddenly, without time for valuable building materials to be retrieved and recycled. Conversely, where such spoliation did occur, there are signs that it might not spell the end of monumental fora: Italian cities demonstrate clearly that repairs were possible after marble was stripped from porticoes and other structures. Controlled encroachment is also particularly a feature of 5th c. Italy, whereas uncontrolled encroachment is a feature of 5th c. Africa. It can be difficult to make sense of the incidence of industry in fora, but the evidence we have suggests that artisanal activity was rather messier and more invasive in Britain and northern Gaul, than it was in Italy or the East. Similarly, we find that cemeteries and rubbish dumps are features of fora in Hispania and Britain. These regions also give us one forum demolition (from Exeter) and three destructions without rebuilding (from Complutum, Tarraco, and Baelo Claudia). Thus, we can nuance our picture of western decay versus eastern survival. The fora of Italy survived the best, although they were forever changed. Despite continuities in function, even Italian squares now looked very different to eastern agorai, which were to have their own reckoning later. The sites of Ostia, Carthage, Uchi Maius, and Cyrene remind us how complex these processes are, and how one must be prepared to see them acting either at the same time within different parts of a plaza, or in sequences that are not always linear. Cyrene is a unique case, of encroachment coexisting with continued investment in secular public building. It has probably attracted too much attention. Uchi Maius has shown us that encroachment can be a positive development, coming after a sudden surrender to silt, whilst Egnatia presents us with a plaza which saw its open space retained and its function re-established in a recognisable form, even when little of the earlier fabric of the square was visible. Perhaps we can attest, from these last two sites, to something of a later 5th c. recovery in the West, after the dark days of the middle decades of the century, now that the most destabilising military events had ceased. This was a wave of improvement which Justinian’s reconquest was perhaps able to build on. We must, also remember that dislocations, such as those we can observe in the archaeology of the 5th c., may have occurred earlier in antiquity, with similar recoveries. They are simply less obvious to us, having been tidied away and consigned to oblivion, as structures were repaired, in ways that have not been detected on many sites.

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Conclusions The overall picture of the history of fora / agorai in Late Antiquity is complex. I content myself here with a summary of the 3rd to 5th centuries, leaving a full conclusion to the end of the next chapter. Although civic squares did disappear from parts of the northern frontier in the 3rd c., they remained an important part of Mediterranean cities up to the second half of the 5th c., and often beyond. Many of their traditional functions persisted: social life continued to favour the agora over other settings; political rituals, especially those of provincial government, were still being performed in civic plazas. There was a new tendency towards commercialisation and the removal of some pagan monuments, but continuity with earlier times was very strong. Building works on traditional elements of fora / agorai can be seen right around the Mediterranean, from wholesale rebuilding to mundane repairs to paving and colonnades. Plazas in eastern provincial capitals witnessed the most thorough building work. Nevertheless, even in core regions, some fora / agorai fell out of use during the 4th or early 5th c., as seen in Hispania and Africa. In other places, abolition or decay might affect only one of several squares within a city, some of which might still be in use, as was the case at Tarraco and possibly at Thessalonica, as was later the case for some cities in Asia Minor in the 6th c.184 Here, it appears that the agora was not in eclipse, but, was instead exhibiting a pattern of partial redundancy. This same process affected some other secular structures, such as large public bath buildings, during the 4th and 5th c. The urban landscape had been over-provided with both agorai and bath buildings by earlier civic generosity, and it can be expected that the more modest civic revenues of the Later Empire could not support such duplication. That said, both types of structure still remained part of the classical urban model, and continued to be built anew, into the 5th and 6th c. respectively. From the mid 5th c., however, repairs on western fora seem to have stopped altogether and subsequently public squares began to disappear from many places. Decay seems to be very widespread in the 5th c., with silt quickly overcoming many plazas in Italy and in Africa. Degradation became manifest, even within Rome and Carthage. But this was not to last, as a final period of recovery took hold in the late 5th to early 7th c., which is the subject of the next chapter. 184  Decay / disuse of one agora, but not the other: see appendices V4b, K2b, and X1b (Tarraco), see appendix K2b and n. 105 of the next chapter (Thessalonica).

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Fora and Agorai during the Sixth Century AD and Beyond Continuity or Disappearance? The architectural history of fora / agorai can now be extended without much controversy through the 4th– 5th c. However, the prospect of continuing this story into the 6th c. and beyond might seem more surprising. In 1995, T. Potter was convinced that the forum fell out of use in the West in the 4th c. and sought to promote the same model for the East. He took the Upper Agora of Ephesus, apparently decaying in the later 4th c., to represent an eastern ‘model’, drawing on even earlier evidence of encroachment, at Dura Europos and Cyrene, which was 3rd c. in date. He only conceded possible later occupation for the Lower Agora of Ephesus. But, in the years since Potter wrote, excavation has recorded not only examples of abandonment but also evidence of occupation and repair, as late as the 6th c. Despite this, a more recent synthesis on the end of the agora, by W. Hoepfner in 2003, echoed Potter’s pessimism, again mentioning Dura, and adding a few churches built over agorai. He also sets the disappearance of public plazas within a much longer story, describing the gradual reduction of the size and centrality of agorai within cities from as early as the Hellenistic period.1 Today, there is sufficient evidence to permit a reevaluation of the history of public plazas in the 6th c. that is somewhat less pessimistic, and which resembles the pre-archaeological views of D. Claude. In 1969, this pioneering scholar suggested substantial continuity for civic squares in the 6th c. East.2 It is now possible to reaffirm the more positive story which Claude told of agorai, drawing both on a wider range of texts, and on archaeology, to prolong the story of these most classical of urban elements to the very end of Antiquity. Yet, by offering a more specific regional and chronological account, we can also retain and expand the archaeological evidence for abandonment which was noted by Potter. 1  Views on the end of agorai in the East: Potter (1995) 83–85; Hoepfner (2003); Saradi (2006) 252, who accepts Potter for Africa but then sees some agorai decaying in the East in the later 6th c. to early 7th c., noting evidence of decay, but not continued repair and vitality. The study of Bauer (1996) has existed in a parallel scholarly universe, which the former scholars have ignored, perhaps because it only really treats the 6th c. history of plazas for Constantinople, which is largely dependent on textual evidence. 2  Early model of continuity: Claude (1969) 63–69, with a few mistakes of his time, such as misdating of statue of Constans I at Corinth, and the certainty of a forum at Zenobia, now disproven, see below.

The two accounts written by Potter and Claude are in fact not incompatible. The story of the agora in the 6th c. is one of decline or extinction in some regions, but in others it is one more of continuity than of change. Continuity best suits the East Mediterranean and parts of Italy, whilst extinction best suits the northern frontier and the rest of the West, with a few exceptions in each region. The Sources The evidence supporting these models is, as usual, uneven in its quality and geographical distribution. We are best informed about Constantinople, although this knowledge comes almost entirely from texts. For Asia Minor and Greece, we have good archaeological examples of both repair and over-building. In contrast, for the Levant and Egypt, we have textual evidence of everyday use but few architectural remains, except from the important sites of Bostra, Scythopolis, and Abu Mina. Western cities have produced well-dated abandonment deposits, alongside archaeological evidence of repair. Textual evidence of building and use tends to come from Italy and a few scattered cities elsewhere. These evidential concentrations owe something to patterns of preservation and scholarly activity. Classical architecture is best-preserved in the East Mediterranean, where we are able to see both repair and new building. Stratigraphic excavation is best developed on western sites, which have been picked over to reveal nuances of levelling, cleaning, and abandonment. Again, the work of B. Ward-Perkins at Luni and T. Potter at Iol Caesarea (Cherchel) has undoubtedly sparked interest in the later history of fora in the West, perhaps leading to more excavations being attempted and accounts reaching publication. In the East, only a few scholars have started to look at classical public squares with a late antique gaze, either in terms of new building work or abandonment sequences. Certainly, evidence for both repair and abandonment is more ambiguous, varied in quality, and smaller in quantity, than it was for the 4th–5th c. AD. But when the 6th c. evidence is considered carefully, patterns emerge, which reveal definite regional trends, and make the contradictory stories of continuity and extinction both credible. In Asia Minor, 6th c. repairs exist, being covered by abandonment levels of 7th c. date, whilst in Africa, even

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004423824_007

340 though preservation is good, there are very few 6th c. repairs. However, there are traces of 6th c. repairs to public squares around the whole West Mediterranean littoral, including the edges of Africa, Italy, and Hispania, a pattern which broadly matches textual evidence for everyday activities presented in this chapter. These texts also suggest that fora survived particularly well in parts of Italy. Chronological variation is more difficult to study: temporary abandonment can be obliterated by a later clean up, whilst repairs to paving or porticoes might survive only in their final arrangement. Thankfully, our information on architecture comes from texts, as well as from archaeology, providing a way of counteracting the uneven survival of buildings. Textual evidence for fora / agorai purports to show continued investment in repair and use of civic squares over much of the central and eastern Mediterranean. The testimonies of a variety of authors suggest that public plazas were still taken for granted as significant public spaces within cities. The range of evidence is wide, from legal texts and secular chronicles to hagiographies, although we lack the letter collections surviving from earlier centuries. This evidence has been met with scepticism, and even derision from some scholars, on the grounds that imprecise word choice and its setting within classicising rhetoric both reduce its value. In terms of word use, as in earlier times, the phrase ‘in the forum’ can mean ‘in the law court’, whilst ‘in the agora’ can mean ‘in public’. The former usage is found in Latin in Cassiodorus and the latter sense in Greek in Procopius.3 Thus, as in the previous chapter, textual references to activities taking place in the agora will only be used if they appear as part of a ‘list of contrasting places’, as a ‘definite place’, where people are doing something specific that could not be done elsewhere, or as a ‘coherent space’ where an identifiable combination of activities takes place. When this classification is applied to textual references about fora / agorai, a few examples must be discarded, but there is still much that can be retained.4 In terms of rhetoric, it has been claimed that Procopius, especially, cannot be relied upon, as his account of Justinian’s new buildings evokes a world 3  Forum / agora word use: Cassiod. Var. 3.52, 8.24, 8.31 (forum as place for displaying legal talents), but clearly a definite place later in 8.31; Procop. Anec. 17.41–45 (conspiracies surrounding death of bishop of Cyzicus formulated ‘in the agora’, meaning in public); Procop. Goth. 3.40.9 (General Germanus as model man in the palace and in the agora vs. at home). There are other uses in Procopius that are ambiguous (e.g. Anec.17.5) but these seem most clearly to mean ‘in public’. 4  Ambiguous word use: officials pursuing retired soldier (for taxes) hurled his corpse into the agora at Philadelphia, trampling it underfoot: Joh. Lyd. mag. 3.60.24. Tax payers who pay early have no fear of being dragged into court when wandering through the forum: Cassiod. Var. 11.7.

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long-gone, in order to suit his patron’s political ideology.5 Thus, scholars have suggested that the agorai he describes are either anachronistic relics of an earlier age, or inventions of his literary imagination. Admittedly, we can see Procopius’ descriptions as overblown, especially in terms of Justinian’s building work in frontier regions. Often, these writings may represent a generic urban description of building work that the author did not himself see. Yet they need not be entirely discarded. There are enough archaeologically attested repairs to agorai in the 6th c. to make much of the literary evidence seem credible, whether derived from Procopius or from other authors. It is also worth pointing out that even catalogue descriptions of cities within rhetorical texts are not all static and are still worth studying: Pseudo-Joshua Stylites and Procopius record agorai within lists of typical public spaces for Edessa, Antioch, and Melitene, in the early to mid 6th c. In contrast, the Chronicle of Zuqnin, compiled in the 8th c., does not record them at all, even for Constantinople, where they certainly survived.6 The quality of the sources is not really in doubt as regards archaeology: much of it derives from seriousminded stratigraphic observation from the last 30 years, which has revealed both minor repair and abandonment. We do need to be cautious in making statements about clearance-excavated sites, from which neither evidence of repair nor abandonment has been recorded. Such sites have been archaeologically sterilised by the removal of earth deposits: the paving one sees might have been buried below 3rd–4th c. levelling material for all of Late Antiquity, when a higher level was in use. Happily, recent excavations have shown that such levelling only affects a small number of sites: rather, continuity of Hellenistic and Early Imperial paving is the norm 5  Procopius and rhetoric: Bowden (2007). Justiniana Prima round plaza as agora in Procop. Aed. 4.1.23 and excavated as Kondić and Popović (1977) 322. Caput Vada: Saradi (2006) 150, who sees P.’s image of the city as “fossilised”. 6  Agora in urban image: at Edessa poor wander through ‘streets, colonnades and squares’: Josh. Styl. 40 (AD 499/500); Melitene is a great city because of shrines, residences for magistrates, agorai, streets and stoas, baths and theatres: Procop. Aed. 3.4.18; at Antioch earthquake destroys ‘public stoas, colonnaded courts and agorai’, then ‘stoas and agorai … water channels, fountains and sewers’ laid out by Justinian: 2.10.21; at Heraeum, outside Constantinople, Justinian builds ‘churches … stoai, agorai and public baths and practically all the other types of buildings’: 1.9.21, which sounds like a stock phrase for round plazas and streets rather than anything more. See also Justiniana Prima above, which has not produced fountains, though all the other elements Procopius lists. At Cple in AD 550/51 earthquake destruction effects houses, churches, bathhouses, city walls (agorai not mentioned): Chronicle of Zuqnin (124), whilst during plague in many cities in (AD 543/44) corpses lay in ‘corners, streets, porticoes of buildings, churches, martyria—everywhere’ (part of a description of everyday life during the plague): Chronicle of Zuqnin (95) (both following John of Ephesus Hist. eccl.).

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in the 4th to early 5th c. West, and 4th to 6th c. East. Another problem is that both traces of use or of abandonment are not always very obvious: excavations might not be capable of detecting the last traditional phase of a square, or its initial closure. One-size-fits-all classical archaeology has been slow to adapt to the nuances of late antique occupation. Thus, a general impression created by all type of sources, across whole regions, would seem to be a more reliable basis for reconstructing the history of fora / agorai, rather than relying on one source type, as archaeologist and historians are both prone to do. For example, abandonment evidence should really be studied in conjunction with that for occupation, the end of which might provide a more important indicator of change, than a deposit of silt on the paving. Architecture New Building Evidence for new building and repair of fora / agorai does exist for the 6th c., from archaeological, epigraphic, and textual sources (Map 15a–b). Round plazas (fig. B17) continued to be built anew: they are known at Dyrrachium [500–525] and Justiniana Prima [535–616]. Two round plazas identified at Scythopolis are as yet undated, and dimensions have not been published. That of Dyrrachium (fig. F3a) is some 52.6 m in diameter (measuring from the back of the portico, 40 m from the stylobate), whilst the round plaza of Justiniana Prima, built in the mid 6th c., is small in size, at 30 m in diameter (from the back of the portico), although it is not out of proportion in terms of this miniature city.7 The circular plazas at Justiniana Prima and Dyrrachium are both surrounded by cellular rooms, likely shops, and have real porticoes, as does another at Scythopolis, rather than false porticoes composed of engaged columns as in the earlier round plazas of Gerasa and Bostra. If, as noted earlier, round plazas can be identified with constructions named in the sources as ‘antiphoroi’, we could note the antiphoros restored at Edessa by Justinian after a flood in 520, which was illuminated during festivals (and so not at other times).8 Of entirely new rectangular plazas, we have 7 examples, 1 from the West and 6 from the East. At Carthage, the great circular plaza on the Admiralty Island was totally rebuilt (fig. F3b), in its porticoes and entrance arch, shortly after the reconquest [537.5–562.5 from archaeology]. 7  New round plazas: see appendix S2. 8  Antiphoros: at Edessa mentioned by Josh. Styl. 27 (AD 495/96), restored by Justinian after flood of 520 in Procop. Aed. 2.7.6. See n.16 of the previous chapter on 4th–5th c. fora / agorai. N.B. A semicircular plaza was definitely known as a ‘sigma’, as an inscription from Scythopolis reveals: see appendix D1.

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This may be the same as the ‘Maritime Agora’, of which the porticoes were restored by Justinian, according to Procopius [533–58]. This was a huge project: the rebuilt plaza measured ca. 92 m across, from portico back-wall to portico back-wall, fully reflecting the size and grandeur of earlier phases. At Thessalonica a new plaza, of 6th c. date, has been excavated very recently, but, so far, no details have been published. At Constantinople, the plaza built by Phocas by the Church of the Forty Martyrs in AD 609 was paved (covering a cistern) and decorated with his honorific column. It measured at least 16.60 m by 23.95 m and was probably closer to 40 m by 55 m, when taking into account its wider architectural context (its relationship to the Mese). A further example comes from a suburb of Constantinople, Anaplus, where Procopius tells us that an agora was built by the sea, adjacent to a quay / colonnade under Justinian [527–58]. We do not know its size. At Laodicea ad Lycum, the central agora, of 112 m by 60 m, with three porticoes, a fountain and an honorific column, is entirely late in its elements, even if it likely occupies a pre-existing open space [494– 610]. At Bostra a rectangular plaza has recently been uncovered, extending over probably ca. 91 m to 98 m by ca. 81 m to 106 m [487.5–512.5]. It was served by at least 11 shops, although we do not know their construction date, and only part of the plaza is excavated. A monumental entrance with a triple portal was cut through a row of shops, to create an access from the street into the plaza. At Abu Mina (fig. F1), the enormous semi-urban pilgrimage centre outside of Alexandria, a porticoed plaza was constructed, of ca. 35 m by 85.8 m [475–532]. It had no public buildings, except for a central monument and a few cellular rooms (likely shops) sitting behind an otherwise blank colonnade.9 Evidence from elsewhere initially seems to contrast with this positive evidence for new building. Away from major centres, within ordinary cities, across the Mediterranean, rectangular plazas were not now being constructed. This ought to trouble us but it is part of general pattern of works, also seen in street maintenance, whereby in the late 5th to 6th the recovery in civil building work is focused on larger centres, leaving some devoid of traces of classical architecture, with just fortifications and churches. Rectilinear plazas were also not built as part of the 6th c. new towns in the Balkans or in Mesopotamia.10 It might seem that the agora had its day, 9   New rectangular plazas: see appendix S1. 10  Absence of agora in 6th c. new towns: see Zanini (2003) plus Carità (2004). At Zenobia, there is a space labelled as an agora in the centre of the city, which is apparently clear of buildings. This may have been the agora in the city prior to the rebuilding of Justinian which followed its earlier plan. However, a double-apsed structure on one side of the ‘square’ is not wide

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New / refurbished agorai of late 5th to 7th c. date: Laodicea, Abu Mina, and Philadelphia (Amman)

but we cannot be sure. This is because these centres can be considered as fortress cities, of a type established in this frontier zone from the time of Diocletian onwards,11 and represent a very different type of urbanism to that seen within the Mediterranean heartland. Finally, over much of the West, but not all, fora were no longer being used. However, as I argue later, this was largely a result of events in the 5th c., rather than trend of the 6th c. Only the conversion of a number of fora into fortresses, under the reconquest administration in Africa can be seen as enough (6 m, against 41 m in length) to be a civil basilica as proposed by Lauffray (2002) 43–46. Also the porticoed façade opens out onto the street but not the open space behind. The structure seems rather to be a façade and vestibule for a large building (perhaps a church or a palace), planned but not executed, on the free building space. Furthermore, new excavations in 2007 and 2008 have uncovered an area of habitation here: S. Blétry, “Zénobia-Halabiyé. Campagnes 2007”, http:// recherche.univ-montp3.fr/cercam/article.php3?id_article= 518 (last accessed Jan 2013); AAVV, “Zénobia-Halabiyé. Campagnes 2008”, http://recherche.univ-montp3.fr/cercam/ article.php3?id_article=497 (last accessed Jan 2013). 11  Absence of plazas in 4th–5th c. fortress cities: Pollard (2000) 69– 81. Gorsium: Fitz and Fedak (1993). Arif (Lycia): an unexcavated irregular trapezoid near the main church on this settlement (founded some time in 425–614, see appendix B6 for dating) has been suggested as an ‘agora’ but is only 15 m by 20 m and is not an important element on the site: Harrison (2001) 43.

encouraging this development, and in some cases it is possible to consider this as an occupation of the forum as the focus of the city rather than its simple obliteration. It is important not to entirely blacken our view of the forum / agora in the 6th c., when there still was new building. We also need to remember the degree of survival in major western cities and on many eastern agorai. In many cities, cultural experience of civic plazas was still profoundly conditioned by the past rather than by new construction. Architectural frames many centuries old defined surviving fora / agorai, whether in Rome, Carthage, Miletus, or Sagalassos. As we will see, the disuse of temples and civic political buildings had a varied impact: some fora / agorai lost their main ornaments, just as others were little affected. The Forum Romanum kept almost all of its architectural heritage, whilst the agora of Philippi was profoundly modified: the temples on its upper terrace were removed, first being replaced by a bath building, and then by a church.12 Shops, porticoes, and fountains generally escaped unscathed, with plazas sometimes retaining a portion of the honorific 12  Survival of buildings in Forum Romanum: see Bauer (1996) 8–74. For Philippi see Sève (1996) and (2003). For choices of the 4th–5th c., see chapter on fora / agorai in that period.

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The rebuilding of the Forum of Theodosius, Constantinople, in the 6th c.

monuments of earlier centuries. These processes perhaps left some plazas rather simplified, without great monuments which might raise a visitor’s eyes, although there were very few civic squares which retained no reminders of redundant institutions of ages past. Indeed, whether fora / agorai were built anew or maintained, they were now increasingly just porticoed plazas, with a few decorative monuments, rather than squares featuring a full set of civic public buildings. Major Restorations These new plazas can be set alongside evidence of rebuilding activity, some of which was large-scale and comprehensive (Map 15c). Major restorations are known on 7–9 occasions at 5 sites in the East, and probably on 1 occasion in the West. One of the surprises of the 6th c. is the degree to which emperors sought to reinstate the civic squares of earlier centuries, in refurbishments at both Constantinople and Antioch, after various catastrophes. Opportunities could have been taken to build something entirely different, but these chances were not taken. At Constantinople, the Augusteion was refurbished, in all its elements, following damage during the Nika rebellion of AD 532 [532–37]. The ‘Basilica’ courtyard was also rebuilt, for the same reason, apparently in its entirety [532–37]. It was a massive undertaking, constructing a plaza about six times as big as that at Abu Mina (ca. 109.1 m by 169 m vs ca. 35 m by 85.8 m) (fig. E1).

The Forum of Theodosius was also reconstructed, with one portico entirely rebuilt and another refurbished [532–37] (fig. F2). Other fires at Constantinople may have led to the restorations of the Strategion [510–15] and the Forum of Constantine [582–88]. At Antioch, after the Persian sack in AD 540 [540–65], Procopius describes how the ancient agorai were retained within the reinstated street grid, which sought to reproduce the original urban plan, a reality confirmed by archaeology, for the city’s streets at least. Here, there was no attempt to abandon forms of public space and build something new, if Procopius is to be believed. Yet it would be wrong to see all restoration work as an attempt to preserve old structures from disaster. There are other instances in the provinces of rebuilding work being done, not all of which can be linked to catastrophes. In the Levant, the agora of Scythopolis was reworked from a trapezoid into a rectangle, with a new portico, new floor mosaics, and a new central monument [500–35]. In Asia Minor, at Ephesus, the Lower Agora saw large-scale rebuilding, with the installation of entrance ramps, a central monument, the construction of an elaborate new portico, and the restoration of another [550–610]. In the Balkans, the forum of Philippi stands out as being the subject of restoration, seeing porticoes rebuilt, in full or in part, on three sides of the plaza, redated by me to the mid to later 6th c. [536–616], not ca. 500 as previously. In Italy, at Terracina, the forum of the city was restored

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The round plaza of Dyrrachium (500–525)

(‘cleaned up’) by a dux Georgios, according to a Latin inscription, in the late 6th or earlier 7th c. [554–661].13 Small-Scale Buildings and Repairs This large-scale restoration work find an echo in smallscale buildings and repairs (Map 15d): to the architectural frame of fora / agorai in other provincial capitals, where there is work on porticoes, fountains, and paving etc., and even in some ‘ordinary’ but prominent cities. Evidence for this comes from archaeological sources from both East and West, and, in the case of Constantinople and Antioch, also from literary texts. These textual attestations do not come from generic lists within rhetorical passages, but rather involve descriptions of specific building operations. Thus, they deserve to be taken seriously, recording that porticoes were rebuilt at Constantinople [Basilica courtyard, 528 text] and at Antioch [507–18, text]. There are also archaeological traces from Aphrodisias [twice 450–600, 526–616] and Sagalassos [twice 450–575; 500–550] (all involving portico restoration), as well as from Laodicea ad Lycum (propylon rebuilt) [494–610], and Xanthos (paving) [400–614]. This totals 8 instances of small-scale restoration from 6 sites for the East. There is even repair work known in the West, from 4 sites, where various types of levelling and resurfacing took place: at Rome [500–600], possibly Florence [undated], Carthage [500–525], and Ilici [577–725] on the eastern coast of 13  Comprehensive rebuilding: see appendix S3.

Hispania. Quite what significance one gives to the work recorded at Ilici, is open to discussion. However, it does represent the farthest tip of a wider spread of evidence which extends from an eastern heartland into the western Mediterranean, even beyond the areas reconquered by Justinian. It is fairest to think that rather modest building operations attested by different sources in the West really do represent the final examples of repair to fora, even if the wider trend in the West was towards their obliteration. A few open squares sustained the last phase of a long tradition, through changing times. As we will see later, these last few Western squares seem ultimately to have lasted beyond many in the East.14 It is worth considering each type of structure repaired in detail. As in the previous chapter, I include in these totals those from major restorations (marked +), but not those on new-built plazas. Porticoes were built anew / entirely rebuilt, on up to 18 occasions at 8 sites across the East. Porticoes were entirely rebuilt at Constantinople, as part of the restorations of the Forum of Theodosius+ [1 portico, 532–37], the Basilica courtyard+ [4 porticoes?, 532–37 text], and the Augusteion+ [4?, 532–37 text]. They were also rebuilt at Philippi [536–616], Ephesus [550–610], Aphrodisias [2 porticoes, 450–600, 526–616], Sagalassos (Lower Agora) [2 porticoes, 450–75, 500– 550], Sagalassos (Upper Agora) [450–575, new], Antioch [507–18 text], and Scythopolis [500–535]. More limited 14   Small-scale repairs: see appendices S4 to T1.

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The Circular Harbour of Carthage, as rebuilt under Justinian

repairs to porticoes also took place at 1 site in the West and on 8 occasions at 4 sites in the East. In the West, the refurbishment of the forum of Terracina may have involved its porticoes, as the inscription recording the work, by the dux George [554–661], was carved into a column found in the forum area, incorporated into the cathedral porch. In the East, at Constantinople, the east portico of the Forum of Theodosius was partially rebuilt as part of the restoration+ [1 portico, 532–37], and on the Basilica courtyard, prior to the Nika riot, at least one portico of the same square had likely already been rebuilt by Justinian, when a great cistern was installed in the courtyard [528 text]. At Philippi+, the rebuilding of the south portico also extended to two further doubleaisle porticoes, which were partially rebuilt [2 porticoes, 536–616, 536–616]. At Sagalassos, porticoes were also substantially rebuilt and extended on two sides of the Lower Agora, following an earthquake/s [2 porticoes, 450–575; 500–550], whilst one portico of the square at Abu Mina must have been rebuilt following a new phase of the Tomb Church [532–619].15 Paving and other surface interventions are recorded from 3 sites in the East and from 4 sites in the West. In the East, at Xanthos, sondages beneath the paving of the upper square have produced 5th–7th c. ceramics 15  Porticoes, built anew and repairs: see appendix S4.

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[400–614], whilst at Ephesus, a marble floor was provided as part of the last period of works in the Lower Agora [550–614]. At Sagalassos, a section of the slabs on the Lower Agora was re-laid as part of 6th c. works, in rather poorly-matched spolia blocks [500–550]. More often, older but still very solid paving served as walking surfaces in the agorai of the East. In the West, surfacing operations were modest but still attested. Although unglamorous, small scale repaving and levelling represented the most essential maintenance which a plaza required and are a reflection of intended everyday use. At Ilici, outside of the Justinianic province of Spania, the (ruined) forum was levelled during the late 6th to early 8th c. [575–725], to provide a plaza, at around the same time that a church was built inside an adjacent temple. At Florence, the paving of the forum was patched up with brick, at an undated moment. At Rome, the Forum Pacis was levelled in the 6th c. [500–600], so that 4th c. structures built within part of the square were filled with masonry. Thus, the site was again made into an open space, although Procopius attests that some parts of the square had never been altered. At Carthage, just prior to the reconquest, buildings on the Admiralty Island Plaza were levelled, although graves seem to have been cut within the square around the same time [500–25].16 Monumental arches, opening onto squares, were built anew on 6 occasions at 2 sites in the East, and at 1 site in the West. A wall arch was built leading onto the rectangular plaza of Abu Mina [475–532], similar to that providing the entrance on the ‘Byzantine Esplanade’ established within a street at Caesarea [546–614]. The round plaza at Justiniana Prima seems to have had something more ambitious: four entrance arches, of a width equal to the porticoes into which they were set [536–616]. The entrance structure at Carthage was the most spectacular, on the Admiralty Plaza, accessed via a renovated causeway, from the mainland: here a fourpiered structure was built, possibly a tetrastylon or tetrakionion [535–616].17 Entrance features were maintained or improved on 11 occasions at 6 sites, all in the East. At Constantinople, two arches survived intact, despite being modified, at the Forum of Theodosius [532–37], or embellished, at the Strategion [510–15, with a statue restoration]. At Laodicea ad Lycum, a propylon of the North Agora was rebuilt in some manner [494– 610], even though the wider plaza seems to have been ruinous after 494. At Sagalassos, arches leaving both the Lower and Upper Agorai were repaired, if in an unconventional manner [475–525, 500–550]. Less glamorous attention to entrances is also visible. At Sagalassos, three 16  Paving and levelling, ‘other’ cities: see appendices S5a. 17  Arches, new built: appendix S5b.

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Porticoes constructed on agorai at Philippi (ca. 500) and Ephesus, Lower Agora (later 6th c.).

wide staircases, two of which were built in fine white limestone, were constructed leading into the Upper and Lower Agorai in the 6th c. [500–550, 500–550, 525–75].18 At Bostra, as has been noted, a three-portal entrance was hidden, at the back of a street portico [487.5–512.5]. At Ephesus and Scythopolis, ramps were provided at entrances, perhaps to facilitate animal access [544–614 and 500–35], as seen earlier at Philippi [250–527] and Magnesia ad Meandrum [250–614]. Finally, at Hippos / Sussita, an area of reused pavement, ca. 4 m wide and of unknown length, up to 44.5 m, was added to the north side of the forum, alongside a staircase [400–635].19 Fountains seem to have remained important, with that in the Forum Pacis attracting the attention of Procopius during his visit to the old capital. Yet, we have no indications of investment in fountains structures from the West. From the East, 4 new simple fountains are recorded, alongside repairs to 2 monumental fountains, across 3 sites. At Abu Mina, the Pilgrim’s Court [475– 532] had a new central fountain, almost at its centre, set to face down the axis of the north-south colonnaded street, as it joined the square. The shape of the building implies that it was a four-piered structure, carrying a vault. It had a perimeter drain and was supplied with fresh water by lead pipes. The late agora at Laodicea also contained a basin, set towards the centre of the south side of the plaza. At Sagalassos, nymphaea on both agorai were repaired, one largely rebuilt, although with decorated architectural blocks reset in an incorrect order and non-original statuary added [400–614, 500–550], as described in the chapter on streets (fig. F5). A large basin 18  Arches survive, Constantinople on Forum of Theodosius and Strategion: see appendix S3 on comprehensive rebuilding. Arches repaired: see appendix S5b. 19  Staircases: see appendices S6 and K5.

was also set on the Upper Agora, perhaps connected to cloth working in the adjacent portico [525–75]. Simple functional fountains were installed in a mini-plaza, facing the north-west city gate [500–525].20 A small number of other buildings were built or repaired on agorai at this time: three civil basilicas were rebuilt at Carthage [533–58], at Ephesus [550–614], and at Antioch in Syria [507–18, perhaps a double-aisled portico]; two city council chambers were repaired at Constantinople [532–44] and at Philippi [perhaps 536– 616] (Map 13b); two market buildings were repaired on the Upper Agora at Sagalassos [450–575; 487.5–575]; one small temple was repaired and one built anew at Constantinople [both in 520].21 These cases, which are considered in more detail below, are only a handful of examples, a balanced sample of older structures, only 9 in total, where once they were built in their thousands. Times had changed: no-one was going to build such venerable anomalies on a new plaza site, although fountains could still be expected, alongside porticoes, arches, and honorific columns. The Nature of Building Work: New Built, Restoration, and Repair Given the smaller amount of building work of all kinds, it seems best to evaluate here the nature of new building, major restoration, and small-scale repair all together, in contrast to the previous chapter where new-builds were kept separate. This involves a consideration of quite simple elements, essentially porticoes, paving, and 20  Fountain survival at Rome (Forum Pacis): Procop. Goth. 4.21.12. Mon. fount. repairs: see appendix S7a. Basin, Sagalassos: Y2. Simple fount., Sagalassos: H6. 21  Other buildings: civil basilicas (S12a); city council chambers (S12b); market buildings (T1); temples (T2). I omit two 6th c. sectile floors in tabernae of the Roman Forum.

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The Antonine Nymphaeum, Upper Agora of Sagalassos, rebuilt with non-original statuary, and some elements misplaced from the front and rear of the structure

little more, as the furniture of the agora and the buildings around it had both become somewhat simplified. We need not repeat details of entrances here. A number of interventions are so slight and their architecture is so varied that they can hardly be said to represent more than a rough collection of established forms: the wall arch, the vaulted arch, the tetrastylon / tetrakionion are all present, alongside re-erected arches of earlier ages. If anything, the wall-arch looks most typical of the age, but can only be seen as providing an entrance into a single plaza: at Abu Mina. The new fountains and other minor features are also too disparate to allow a meaningful discussion. Thus, what follows here is a commentary limited to the porticoes and paving, which might be considered the primary architectural infrastructure in any age for fora / agorai. The dimensions of the new porticoes reflected earlier sizes. At Justiniana Prima, the porticoes of the round plaza measured 4 m wide, whereas at Dyrrachium they measured ca. 6–6.3 m wide, and at Scythopolis possibly ca. 7–8 m wide (if B. Arubas’ drawing can be accepted as an accurate representation). The new porticoes of agorai in the eastern capital were very large, with the Basilica courtyard having a north portico, probably triple-aisled, 22–22.5 m wide by ca. 169 m long, and an east portico, ca. 12 m wide by ca. 109.1 m long, probably both doubleaisled, whilst the Forum of Theodosius had a new north portico ca. 11.25 m wide by ca. 85.25 m long. In the latter case, the portico replicated the double-aisled width of its 4th c. predecessor, as did the repaired east portico on the same plaza. This grand scale was echoed at Philippi and Ephesus, where new porticoes were double-aisled. That at Philippi measured ca. 14.16 m wide by 100 m long and at Ephesus ca. 11.5 m wide by 135 m long, the latter being two or three storeys high. At Aphrodisias, Bostra, Scythopolis, and Abu Mina, portico sizes were far more modest, measuring respectively: ca. 7–8 m wide

(ca. 135 m long); ca. 6 m wide (no complete length); ca. 5 m wide (46 m long); ca. 3–3.5 m wide (ca. 85.8 m, ca. 85 m, ca. 35 m, and ca. 35 m long). At Carthage, an annular portico ca. 3.5–4 m wide enclosed the entirety of the circular plaza of the Admiralty Island, replacing an earlier portico completely. Based on the plaza’s diameter of ca. 92 m, the perimeter length, along the back wall of the portico, is ca. 289 m. It was no timid rebuilding, but a clear statement of intent, to bring the secular monumental renewal of the eastern capital into the heart of a great city in the reconquered West. The interior finishing and decoration of some porticoes in the East was just as sumptuous as in earlier centuries, arguably more so. At Constantinople, in the Forum of Theodosius, large and finely-cut marble slabs were used to pave the rebuilt portico: these measured ca. 1.2–1.6 m long by ca. 0.7–0.9 m wide. At Laodicea, the porticoes were paved in opus sectile. At Scythopolis, a black and white tile floor was used, set diagonally, along the south-east portico, and in a grid running parallel with the stylobate, along the south-west portico. At Abu Mina, on the Pilgrim’s Court plaza, the portico outside the Tomb Church had a sandstone paving initally. These were substituted by a second set of slabs, of marble, around the church entrance [likely 532–619]. In other places, portico surfaces were more modest. As they are few in number, a full description is justified here. At Justiniana Prima, the portico floors of the round plaza were of the same material as the road surface: stone slabs, of more or less the same size, of no more than 1 m2. At Aphrodisias, the west end of the South Agora portico was paved in reused stone, sometimes cut-tofit, partly laid in short rows of irregular width, although, sometimes little attempt has been made to make blocks join, leading to gaps. From Sagalassos and Dyrrachium, there is no record of rebuilt portico surfaces, suggesting that either mortar or beaten earth were being used, or

348 that the slabs have been robbed from the porticoes since Antiquity, which seems unlikely, given that good plaza paving survives in both cities. The elevations of portico colonnades do not always survive, and are not described in texts, meaning that we are largely ignorant about major sites where we would like to know more, as at Carthage and at Constantinople. As they are few in number, a full description is justified here. At Justiniana Prima, the stylobate of the round plaza was divided into four sections, cut by crossroads, in which piers defined the end of each quadrant and two columns stood between them along each portico stylobate, a contrast to the simple piered porticoes seen in surrounding streets. At Dyrrachium, the colonnade was composed of reused limestone plinths supporting Proconnesian marble column bases, ‘quarry-ready’ in style, holding marble column shafts (3.45 m long) with new-cut marble Corinthian capitals. The colonnade measured ca. 4.29 m to 4.31 m high in total. At Philippi (south portico), the Corinthian façade colonnade was replaced: the new portico had monolithic smooth columns (ca. 3 m long) and Ionic bases (reused from the previous portico) with new-cut Ionic impost capitals, designed to support an arcade (see fig. F4). The façade colonnade ended in new-built L-shaped piers as the corners of the plaza. The internal colonnade was also constructed entirely of piers, as it was in the rebuilt east and west porticoes of the same plaza. At Constantinople, the rebuilt north portico of the Forum of Theodosius was also of piers, even on the façade onto the plaza, which would necessitate arcading. Therefore, we see a relative increase in arcading and the use of piers, especially in the Balkans and Constantinople, although the latter are still mainly employed as structural elements, less often in exposed settings. The new north portico at Ephesus (Lower Agora) was especially jumbled in its architectural elements. It included mixed reused columns of different types, that required bases or capitals of different sizes to gain a consistent height for the colonnade (ca. 5.1 m, with columns of ca. 3.55 m, at its eastern end). The bases were a mixture of Ionic or new-cut ‘quarry ready’. But here, newcut impost blocks supporting brick arcades sit above the Corinthian capitals. I am not clear how the upper storey colonnades of this same portico were formed. At Laodicea, portico columns were reused, of 3.82 m length, whilst arcading does not seem to have been employed. The overall appearance was however smart, in contrast to Sagalassos, where the rebuilt porticoes of the 6th c. included reused non-matching columns of irregular width, as well as a milestone and an altar cut-down to serve as a pedestal. Here again, there is no hint of arcading. At Aphrodisias, we have same impression: mixed

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reuse. The bases are of many types: classic Attic, Attic with upper torus in speira, Hadrianic ‘bases à gorge’, late simplified bases, two bases on an octagonal socle. There are also two Ionic capitals, ornamented with wreaths, and mixed columns, some of which are late and newcut, of ca. 5 m in height at the east end and possibly 6 m at the west end. At Bostra, columns, Ionic capitals and hexagonal bases have been found relating to the portico but no columns. At Abu Mina, in the north-west corner of the Pilgrim’s Court, pedestals of the colonnade were in marble and nummulite limestone. No complete column shafts survive, although a reconstructed example illustrated in a report proposes that they were ca. 2.1 m high. The absence of architraves suggests that the capitals might have held arcades. A T-shaped pier, in the north-west corner, and a console, in the west portico, also suggest arcading. Overall, it seems that arcaded porticoes were the clear favourite for agorai, rather more clearly than they were for streets, at least outside of the interior of Asia Minor, where a more conservative style prevailed. Porticoes were generally supported by columns rather than piers, although we have one case of their being combined. Porticoes with piers only are attested, as they are for streets, but one might suspect that they were used to support a second storey portico above, given how strong a piers can be in carrying loads. The use of piers in internal arcades, at Philippi, might also have been an economy measure, as civic authorities sought to put reused columns to best use. In terms of courtyard paving, there seems to have been no appetite in new works for the earth and gravel surfaces of some traditional agorai in the Greek East. Stone paving was universally sought after. The round plaza of Dyrrachium had the most spectacular arrangement. It was paved in grey-white rectangular marble slabs, 0.6 m thick and apparently new cut, with no signs of reuse. The slabs were very large, measuring up to 3.4 m in length. They were laid in rows of different widths, in a concentric radial pattern, tapered to fit, except for an outer row of larger slabs, laid lengthways over the perimeter drain. In contrast, the paving at Justiniana Prima was simply of stone slabs of the kind used on the streets, of no more than 1 m2, irregular in form, not especially rectangular, without rows. At Constantinople, on the Basilica courtyard, the Justinianic paving was of huge Proconnesian marble slabs of different lengths and widths, from 0.7 m–1.05 m by 1.5–2 m. Marble paving was also provided by Justinian for the Augusteion, if my reading of Procopius is correct: slabs outside the adjacent Chalke Gate measure at least 0.62 m by 0.31 m, perhaps giving us an indication of those inside the plaza itself. At Antioch, in the rebuilding after AD 540, massive sizes are attested:

Fora and Agorai during the Sixth Century AD and Beyond

according to Procopius, Justinian laid slabs big enough to need transport on one wagon each, in the open / cleared areas of the city, before laying out colonnaded streets and agorai, which we know he established following the earlier city plan. At Bostra, rectangular slabs of very varied sizes (ca. 0.4 m by 0.4 m and ca. 1 m by 0.1 m), likely reused, were laid in rough rows of irregular width. At Abu Mina, the Pilgrims’ Court seems to have been covered in new-cut stone slabs sorted into straight rows of uneven width, arranged in more than one system of alignment. Slab sizes vary from ca. 0.42 m by 0.48 m to ca. 2.4 m by 1.1 m. These sizes are not notably different to those of the 4th–5th c., with Constantinople overall having the largest, probably followed by Antioch.22 Statues and Architectural Furnishings Statue dedications continued on fora / agorai, at Constantinople and Rome up into the early 7th c. Elsewhere, they were very rare, as they had been ever since a big drop in the early decades of the 5th c.23 Imperial statues, sometimes on honorific columns, were dedicated in squares at Constantinople, for Anastasius, Justinian, and Phocas, [505–506, 543–44, 609], as described in the chapter on streets. Exceptionally, Heraclius allowed his cousin, the general Nicetas, to be honoured with a gilded equestrian statue, in the Forum of Constantine [614–17].24 Elsewhere, imperial statue dedications in fora / agorai are known: at Rome, on the Column of Phocas [608]; at Justiniana Prima [535–616], where the round plaza had a central pedestal for a column, displaying an imperial statue (surely of Justinian), of which fragments were found nearby; and at Dyrrachium [500–525], where the round plaza has a central round platform which likely held a statue group featuring Anastasius. Imperial honorific columns were probably also placed on platforms set at the centre of plazas at Laodicea [494–519], Scythopolis [500–535], and Abu Mina [475–532]. A statue of Justinian [527–65] seems to have been set on the South Agora of Aphrodisias.25 Thus, the 22  Paving, Constantinople: see appendix S5a. Much smaller slabs were found on the Augusteion, although their relationship to the dated honorific monuments is unclear: it may not be the original paving. For the paving of the Forum of Constantine: see appendix K1a. 23  Statue dedication: see appendix S11. For the volume of statue dedication over time see: Smith and Ward-Perkins (2016) 3–9 and related LSA database. 24  Imperial statues in plazas at Constantinople: see appendix F9 for imperial columns. Nicetas general and cousin of Heraclius in Forum (of Constantine), on a gilded equestrian statue: see appendix S11. 25  Imperial statues, in fora / agorai: see appendix S11. Theoderic’s images: Procop. Goth 3.20.29. The statue at Justiniana Prima was of two fragments, relating to a figure in armour.

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tradition of projecting imperial power through public monuments in fora / agorai, seen in the 4th–5th c., persisted, beyond the capital, at a very low level. It may even have continued in Ostrogothic Italy. On the recapture of Rome in 546 by Totila’s army, the widow of Boethius was accused by Goths of destroying the images of Theoderic, causing them to want to kill her. Theoderic was no longer alive, but the removal of his images was understood as an intolerable act of disrespect, as it was in earlier centuries. The public plazas of Aphrodisias have also produced other late 5th to early 6th c. statues of governors, but with dating mid-points in the 5th c.26 Those of civic notables of the same city were found mainly out of context, but nearby. Only two are dated firmly within the 6th c. by Roueché: a statue of a certain Rhodopaeus, found by the temple-church, north of the North Agora, reused with other stones derived from the bouleuterion, and a statue of the clarissimus and local evergete Albinus, found in the west portico of the South Agora: this is now dated to the reign of Justinian or later, on account of the accompanying acclamations.27 It is hard to be impressed by this very low number of statues, which mainly seems to relate to images displayed on honorific columns. One can at least say that fewer statues had a greater impact in such settings, from being placed at the centre of plazas. We also know of examples of statues from earlier centuries being repaired or re-established on plazas: on 6 cases on three sites, in the 6th c., all from the East: at Constantinople (in the Strategion) [510], at Sagalassos [three statue-bases, 475– 525], and at Caesarea Palestinae [two statues, 546–614].28 This activity occurred against a background of the editing of established statue groups. Such monuments might be selectively disposed of or repositioned, as seen on agorai at Philippi, Constantinople, and Sagalassos, during the 6th c.29 Perhaps we can see this interest in 26  Governors’ statues, Aphrodisias: N.B. ALA 62 (Fl. Palmatus consular governor) and ALA 65 (Vitianus consular governor), from the Tetrastoon, are now dated to ranges with mid-points in the 5th c., and so are not included: appendix K1a. 27  Civic notables, Aphrodisias: In east court of Hadrianic Baths, opening onto the South Agora: ALA 74 (Hermais, late 5th / 6th c. based on language and lettering); ALA 85 (Rhodopaeus 6th c., based on prosopography), now with Lenaghan (2019). Reused in temple-church, north of the North Agora, along with other stones derived from the bouleuterion: ALA 73 (John, leader of council, late 5th / 6th c.). In west portico of North Agora: Albinus ALA 82, see appendix S4. 28  Statues repaired or re-established: see appendix S11. 29  Statue editing, at Philippi: Sève (2003), who describes gradual but never complete removal of statue monuments over 5th– 6th c. on agora. Fate of priestesses not mentioned in Sève and Weber (2012). For my revision of the chronology of the 3rd state of the agora, see appendix S4; at Sagalassos: Lavan (2013a) 313, 315–20, 324–26, on moving of statues in both

350 older statues reflected in the collection of epigrams preserved in the Palatine Anthology, which includes texts that honoured late imperial emperors, as well as other figures, in Constantinople and the Aegean region. The compilation was built around the texts of Agathias (active ca. 550–82), who himself penned several new civic inscriptions. He surely visited a number of the agorai of western Asia Minor where ancient statues were still visible, which might have provided daily inspiration to someone capable of appreciating, collating, and adding to classical civic heritage. However, the reshaping of statue landscapes in public squares was nothing new: it can be seen as early as the forum of Pompeii, where a row of 10 equestrian statue bases was partially removed, before A.D. 79, to make space for three much larger bases, perhaps for imperial quadrigae.30 In contrast, we see some plazas being cleared of statues wholesale, as at Lepcis Magna in the 6th c. and at Ephesus, sometime in the first half of the 6th c. Under Justinian, according to the Parastaseis, the Augusteion was cleared of statues for reuse elsewhere in the city, at the time of his rebuilding of Hagia Sophia, following the fire of the Nika riot. The relocation of ‘427 statues’, of which 80 were of Christians, represented a significant recasting of public space, on this occasion. The transformation of the Augusteion was not without precedent: under Anastasius, the statues of the plateia (likely the main colonnaded street), including Greek masterpieces brought to the city by Constantine, were removed and melted down by a comes largitionum, to produce a bronze colossus of his emperor for the Forum of Theodosius in AD 505–506.31 Such large-scale statue clearances can Upper and Lower Agorai, with several statue bases put into 6th c. walls on both plazas. 30  Pompeii forum statue editing: Zanker (1998) 102–103 with fig. 51. 31  Statue removal: at Lepcis Magna (old forum): several statue bases / inscribed monuments are found reused in the church [533–43, appendix T3] and in its baptistery [533–647, appendix V1], as well as in the city wall [534–43, appendix V1]: see list in Bigi and Tantillo (2010) 276–77; at Ephesus, as in the pillars of the vaulted passage by the Baths of Scholasticia: site observation LL 2005, which is part of a mid-6th c. phase of the baths connected to the building of the Curetes Stoa: see appendix C4. Bases also found stored in Lower Agora that may come from 6th c. clearance of the Upper or Lower Agorai, in contrast to adjacent streets which retained statues: see remarks in appendix K9 on Ephesus; at Antioch ad Cragum, in Cilicia, a colonnaded street was extended using statue bases, at an undated time in Late Antiquity [250–614], which might relate to a similar clearance event: see appendix C4; at Constantinople, Augusteion statue removal (including late antique imperial statues): Parastaseis 11 (Patria 2.96), when Hagia Sophia was rebuilt by Justinian, so 532–37; at Constantinople, Forum of Theodosius: Malalas 16.13; see also Marcell. com. (AD 446–47) (447.1).

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be seen in earlier times, in 4th c. Aphrodisias, and in Augustan Rome. Justinian was being less crass in his work on the Augusteion, merely moving the statues about. Yet, the two Constantinopolitan episodes reveal that attitudes towards ancient artworks were not uniform in the 6th c.: civic authorities might decide to remove statues from public squares, to curate them as works of art, or to send them to the melting pot.32 Again, some statue monuments dedicated in the Early Imperial period, or earlier, lasted a long time without being moved. At Rome, in the Forum Pacis, bronze statues by Pheidias and Myron (including a calf and a bull) were attested by Procopius in the later 530s. At Philippi, statues of priestesses of Livia remained on the agora beyond AD 500 (a date which probably should be revised to ‘beyond 536’), whilst that for L. Tatinius Cnosus lasted until the plaza was abandoned. At Sagalassos, silts of early 7th c. date covered the bases of early emperors still on the Upper Agora. At Aphrodisias, some early statues retained their place on the agora, outside the bouleuterion or in the entrance court of the baths, until these parts of the city were.33 For Alexandria, Theophylact Simocatta tells us that, in AD 602, the famous statues of the Tychaion fell off their pedestals and announced the deposition of Maurice, terrifying onlookers. These ornaments had apparently survived the redundancy of the temple for over 200 years. Their survival seems hardly credible, until we remember statues of Dionysus in the Upper Agora Nymphaeum at Sagalassos which survived until they were walled up with blocks bearing inscribed crosses, perhaps in the 6th c. AD, when earthquake damage is recorded in the city.34 Although the Church showed no interest in emulating the classical statue tradition, Christians seem to have begun to interpret some public statues with biblical identities in mind. Zacharias 32  Parallels for large-scale statue removal: for statue editing in Early Imperial Rome, we have actions by Augustus and Caligula on the Capitol and in the Campus Martius: Suet. Calig. 34. 33  Statue survival from Early Imperial times, without movement: Rome: Procop. Goth. 4.21.11–14; Philippi: Sève (2003); AE (1933) 87; Pilhofer (2000) 217–19, no. 202; Sagalassos: two stepped monuments on the Upper Agora still in situ (though two or perhaps four others removed): Lavan (2013a) 316–20 with fig. 8; Aphrodisias: e.g. IAph2007 2.17 (early 3rd c. notable, outside bouleuterion), 4.201 (Antoninus Pius, at Agora Gate) with Smith (2007) 204–205. 34   Statue survival, of pagan images: Alexandria, statues of Tychaion: Theoph. Sim. Hist. 8.13.7–14. Position of Tychaion in centre of the city, where the agora was located is conjectural, though it is usual for these structures: Adriani (1966) 258–59. Sagalassos, Upper Agora, nymphaeum: Waelkens et al. (1997) 147–162, plus appendix K7b. Very few of these blocks were found, so it is not certain such a blocking took place, or was total. We await a fuller publication.

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ALA 83:Acclamations Acclamationsfor forAlbinus, Albinus, clarissimus, carved onto columns a portico, agora, Aphrodisias ALA 83: clarissimus, carved onto columns of a of portico, southsouth agora, Aphrodisias, ca. 500. I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI XII XIII XIV XV XVI XVII XVIII XIX XX

God is one, for the whole world! Many years for the emperors! Many years for the eparchs! Many years for the Senate! Many years for the metropolis! PERDE Albinus - up with the builder of the stoa! Lord, lover of your country, remain for us! Your buildings are an eternal reminder, Albinus, you who love to build. . . . ] Albinus clarissimus. PERDE Albinus, behold what you have given! The whole city says this: 'Your enemies to the river! May the great God provide this!' is lost. Up with Albinus clarissimus, to the Senate! [...] envy does not vanquish fortune. Up with Albinus, the builder of this work also! You have disregarded wealth and obtained glory, Albinus clarissimus. Albinus clarissimus, like your ancestors a lover of your country. may you receive plenty. Providing [?a building] for the city, he is acclaimed [?in it also]. With your buildings you have made the city brilliant, Albinus, lover of your country. The whole city, having acclaimed (you) with one voice, says: 'He who forgets you, Albinus clarissimus, does not know God.'

figure f6 Acclamations in favour of Albinus, clarissimus, from columns of the south agora, Aphrodisias, sometime within or after the (translated by C. Roueché http://insaph.kcl.ac.uk/ala2004/inscription/eAla083.html, last accessed October 2013). reign of Justinian [527–614] Translated by C. Roueché http://insaph.kcl.ac.uk/ala2004/inscription/eAla083.html, last accessed October 2013

of Mytilene (later 5th to earlier 6th c.) quotes a notitia of Rome which imagined that the city was decorated with ‘25 bronze statues of Abraham, Sarah, and Hagar, and of the kings of the house of David, which Vespasian the emperor brought up when he sacked Jerusalem’. In Early Medieval Constantinople, some even imagined that Solomon’s statue decorated the Basilica courtyard.35 This selective toleration of older statues extended to those erected early within Late Antiquity, which lasted until the end of the period. Occasionally, we find a late antique emperor’s statue base ending up reused in a wall near an agora, by accident or design. But more usually, 4th c. imperial statues retained their prominent places on fora / agorai into the 6th or 7th c. In the West, we can suspect this is the result of passive abandonment, but in the East this explanation is not sufficient, given the intensity of late occupation. We see statues of 4th c. emperors surviving at Philippi, Tegea, Corinth, Athens, Aphrodisias, and Sagalassos, as revealed by archaeology, and at Antioch, as recorded by Malalas, whilst Constantinople saw both respect for its late antique imperial statues and examples of their movement.36 At 35  Christian interpretations of statues: Zach. Myt. Chron.10.16 (Rome); Parastaseis 74, Patria 2.40 (Constantinople). 36   Statue survival, late antique emperors: see appendix K9 and K1a; Constantinople (survival of equestrian statue of Theodosius): Anth. Graec. 16.65; Patria 2.47, discussed by Bassett (2004) 208–11, is an example of an imperial statue surviving that is not on a column or other exceptional

Aphrodisias, the partial survival of statue monuments on the Tetrastoon square suggests that some images were retained into the 7th c.: the statue and the base of the governor Flavius Palmatus [erected 460–535] both escaped incorporation into the adjacent ‘7th c.’ fortification, although that of Theodosius I / II seems to have been knocked over onto the plaza to remove a block from its base, for use in the same wall. Quite when the last statues of Aphrodisias’ main agora finally fell down is anyone’s guess at present. The unique survival of so many bases with accompanying statues suggests that they even lasted through the 7th and 8th c. What these relics now actually meant to anyone, is, of course, open to question. The contrasting fates of the Tetrastoon statues suggest that at Aphrodisias, as at Constantinople, there was a mixture of respect leading to preservation alongside indifference and/or fear leading to destruction. In the capital, and perhaps elsewhere within Byzantine territories, memories faded, and statues became mouldstained talismans, misunderstood though usually tolerated, across the Middle Ages.37 monument. See n. 31 above for moving of imperial images from the Augusteion. For a forgotten late antique statue, of reused sculptural elements surviving on the Forum Romanum at Rome in the 6th c. see Procop. Anec. 8.15–20, discussed in Myrup Kristensen (2010). 37  Statue survival, ‘dark ages’: Aphrodisias, Tetrastoon: Smith (1999) 161–62, 168–70, discussing ALA 20 and 62 and Smith (2001) 125–26, discussing ALA 21, which shows an early

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figure f7

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Professionally-cut gameboards, with crosses as rosettes, from the Upper Agora of Ephesus and from close to the western edge of the agora of Aphrodisias (ALA 70).

Of minor public furniture, we know of seats still in use at Aphrodisias, on the Tetrastoon square: these were incorporated into the immediately adjacent city wall during the 7th c., with other bits from the plaza, suggesting that they had been left on the paving until that date. Stone seats survive at a few other sites: at Thasos, Kaunos, Sagalassos, and Ephesus. At Ephesus, a place inscription was made for a clergyman on such a seat.38 This text, excavation photograph (table 30.1) in which the column bases and apparently a column are not incorporated in the wall, although public seats were, on which see below n. 38; Constantinople: Bassett (2004); James (1996), who describes their preservation as talismans, with Mango (1959) 50, who describes progressive spoliation. For Rome (not in fora) see Coates-Stephens (2007) 183–84, n. 42. In earlier antiquity, authors had recalled seeing abandoned cities with statues abandoned in situ, some broken: Pausanias 10.36.4 (2nd c. AD), Philostratos Life of Apollonius of Tyana 6.4.10–14 (3rd c. AD), from Dickenson (2012) frontispiece. For statues as talismans in Late Antiquity see Lavan (2011b). On fabulous stories about statues see also Procop. Goth. 1.15.4 and Procop. Anec. 8.15–20 (regarding Constantinople and Rome respectively), discussed in Myrup Kristensen (2010). 38  Public seats, Aphrodisias with topos inscriptions of associations: ALA 212 (later 4th c. or later); Kaunos: LL site observation 2003; Sagalassos: see plan and picture in Waelkens et al. (2000) 298, 299, fig. 105, 300, fig. 106. Ephesus, Upper Agora with place inscription for clergyman on benches that survived around the agora: Foss (1979) 82, n. 70 = IvE 2.543. Another at Sagalassos was incorporated in a 6th c. wall, which (based on shared spolia and other factors) seems to be contemporary with an adjacent road re-laying dated to the 6th c. by a sondage under the north-east exit road from the Upper Agora, which revealed a fill under the pavement containing pottery

alongside inscriptions on the above-mentioned seats from Aphrodisias, suggests that 4th c. restrictions on who could sit on public seats may have survived in some places, despite the pertinent law not being copied into the Codex Justinianus.39 Professionally-cut gameboards were also still provided in the 6th c. They have been retrieved from agorai at Ephesus, Side, and Sagalassos in their use-context of the end of antiquity. Examples from Ephesus and Sagalassos included crosses in their design, suggesting a late date. Those at Aphrodisias are sometimes inscribed, naming dedicants, including a pater, so from the period after 460 (fig. F7).40 Time-keeping devices were both newly installed and maintained on eastern agorai in this period, being mentioned far more frequently than in earlier times, as if they were a distinctive feature of the 6th c.41 At Gaza, an elaborate water clock was inaugurated on the agora, sometime during 501–26, and decorated with automata, which acted out the 12 Labours of Hercules and other legends. We know that this stood within a free-standing building towards one corner of the agora, protected by a low marble barrier which held iron gates with spikes (fig. F8). Such water clocks are likely to have existed in other major cities, although we cannot always confirm they stood in agorai, or if how many witnessed late antique building works. We hear of another at Constantinople under Justinian, in the praetorian law courts, which were probably held in the Basilica courtyard (see below).42 Here, a further bronze horologion (small enough to steal, so likely a sundial) was restored by Justin II and his wife Sophia [565–74]. Was this perhaps the same as one moved to the nearby Milion under Justinian [538]? At Aphrodisias, a sundial has been recovered from a Tetrastoon, thought to date from of “between the middle of the 5th and the middle of the 6th century AD”, whilst coins all predated the 6th c.: Sagalassos Internal Report (2001) 7. 39  Rights to public seats: Cod. Theod. 15.13.1 (AD 396). 40   Professionally-cut gameboards: Aphrodisias with 5th–6th c. dedications of exceptor, scholastici, pateres, and a magnificentissimus: ALA 68, 69, 70, 71, 238, mainly from the entrance area of the Hadrianic Baths, on the South Agora; Smyrna (where Agathias, the dedicant, was a pater): Anth. Graec. 9.767–69, 9.662 (architectural context of board not known). Examples without dedications found on agorai paving of Ephesus (with carved crosses), Side (on a reused statue base), Sagalassos (with carved crosses): L. Lavan site observation 2003–2006. Side is in situ still, whilst at Sagalassos the findspot is confirmed by excavation drawings: Lavan (2013a) 336. 41   Horologia: see appendix S10a. For an earlier example, Ptolemais in the early 5th c., from which guard-watches were measured during a siege: Ptolemais: Syn. Catastasis 2.5.3. 42  Examples in use: Gaza: Choricius Horologion, with Talgam (2009); Constantinople, praetorian law courts: Lydus Mag. 2.16.4 (mechanical clock); 2.16.2 (with use of a water-filled cantharos on a tripod flowing into a crater).

Fora and Agorai during the Sixth Century AD and Beyond

figure f8

Horologion inaugurated on the agora of Gaza, as described by Choricius

sometime after 470 [470–614]. At Sagalassos, a sundial was erected on a reused column on the small plaza just inside the north-west gate [500–525]. This adds up to a record of investment in horologia that is not paralleled earlier. We hear of other timekeeping devices being present within cities in the 6th c., although we do not if they stood in agorai, or when they were erected. At Amida, clocks are attested in AD 502/503, as being amongst the items (statues, marbles, and sundials) that were stripped from the city by the Persian king Khavadh (reigned 488–96, 498/99–531). Here, the architectural context is not known.43 At Antioch, the horologion mentioned by Malalas, on the Forum of Valens, seems to have been a feature of his lifetime (the mid-6th c.). With many of these textual references, we are not certain if ‘horologia’ were sundials or water clocks, as no distinction is made in word use. There is a small possibility that isolated structures at the centre of the tetragonal agorai at Ephesus [487.5–512.5] and Perge [undated] housed water clocks comparable to that at Gaza, at some stage in their existence. The central monument at Perge has 43  Horologia spoliated from city alongside statues by Persians on capture of Amida in AD 502/503: Zach. Myt. Chron. 7.4.

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definitely been adapted for water features.44 Elsewhere, simple stone sundials are likely, standing on a column, as seen in so many late antique sarcophagi or in scenes from the 6th c. Vienna Genesis. Carved / painted sundials, set on the sides of buildings are possible, but not widely attested, although I have seen one engraved sometime after 385, half-way up the column of a street portico at Ostia [built 385–89]. It was cut as a motif on the shaft, rather than as a crowning element.45 The presence of such devices, evidently more common in the 6th c., clearly contradicts any narrative of linear decline and simplification: it is an example of late antique amenity, seen so clearly in the chapter on street architecture, and can be paralleled in churches, where sundials now made an appearance.46 Admittedly, this evidence for maintenance and embellishment of agorai is far less impressive than that described in the previous chapter. Nonetheless, it should be taken seriously, whether it relates to construction of new squares or porticoes in the East or of rough repavings in the West. In both cases, the level of investment reflects background regional patterns in public building. Civic building in the 6th c. West had gone down to a very low level, whereas civic leaders in the East were still making large-scale investments. Yet, where we find levelling horizons in Hispania, Italy, and Africa, we find a new arcaded portico in Macedonia, with newly-cut Ionic impost capitals, and a three-storey portico in Asia Minor. Thus, whilst repair evidence is sometimes small in quantity, or locally unimpressive, it is consistent with what can be expected of wider urban development. It demonstrates low but persistent continuity in the maintenance and occupation of traditional civic squares in the East Mediterranean, Italy, and a few other parts of the West into the late 6th c. AD. As in earlier centuries, there seems to be a clear western preference for investing in surfaces rather than in the upstanding architecture of porticoes and entrances, which were the focus of eastern repairs. The rebuilding of the Circular Forum, on the Admiralty Island at Carthage, is of course an exception. The scale of this project looks like an imperial act of Justinian, reflected in Procopius’ description of the Maritime Agora. 44  Horologia: Antioch (Forum of Valens): mentioned by Malalas 13.30. Central monuments, Perge and Side: see appendix Q3. 45  Sundials: Vienna Genesis: Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, cod. theol. gr. 31 fol 17r (Joseph in prison) http://www.bildarchivaustria.at/Pages/ImageDetail.aspx?p_ iBildID=11470313 (last accessed September 2018). Sarcophagi: Wilpert (1932) vol. 1.2 plates 21. Ostia: LL site observation 2007, on late portico on Decumanus, in front of theatre, appendix C4. 46  Sundials do turn up in churches: e.g. Recueil des inscriptions grecques chrétiennes d’Asie Mineur fasc. 1 Mylasa 239 = IK 34 Mylasa 625 (not seen).

354 The work demonstrates clear eastern architectural priorities in rebuilding the entrance and porticoes. In terms of quality, repairs to Levantine agorai seem to have been the highest: in new-cut stone, without spolia. This style might also have prevailed around the imperially funded squares of the capital. In Constantinople, it is difficult to imagine that any expense was spared: the Basilica courtyard, was described by Middle Byzantine authors as having a gilded roof (either tiles or ceiling), and was paved in massive Proconessian paving, which likely dates from the Justinianic renovation.47 Architectural Style: Final Remarks Overall, we can say that the style of civic squares constructed or refurbished in the 6th c. was, as in the 5th c., fairly simple. We gain our clearest image of the 6th c. agora from the Pilgrim’s Court of Abu Mina. This was a four-porticoed paved rectangular plaza featuring a central monument, possibly an honorific column. This style seems to be replicated at Laodicea and at Scythopolis. At the latter site, in 6th c. works, an effort was made to reproduce a more rectangular shape from an earlier trapezoid, with a stepped foundation at the new centre of the courtyard. Bostra’s rectangular plaza may have taken the same design, although we have only one corner excavated. It seems fair to consider if the style of Abu Mina represented an attempt to ape the form of the Augusteion in Constantinople. However, the chronology of Abu Mina compels us to connect it to the Augusteion in its preJustinianic form, when its honorific column held a statue of Theodosius I. This stage of the plaza was as rebuilt in 459 by the ‘consul’ Theodosius (Flavius Patricius and Flavius Ricimer were consuls in 459), and not in the form in which it was reconstructed after the Nika riot of 532. The only plaza on this same form (a rectangle with a central honorific column), which dates to after the rebuilding of the Augusteion is the plaza built under Phocas at the Church of the Forty Martyrs / Artopôleion, in the eastern capital. In this case, we have a record that the central honorific monument initially bore an imperial statue, with a cross only replacing it under Heraclius. It is most likely that other rectangular plazas of the 6th c. were decorated in the same way, imitating the Augusteion. As I have noted earlier, they are very unlikely to have had a cross from the start, which is a conception of a plaza that belongs in the European Middle Ages, as an intended urban design.

47  Constantinople, Basilica courtyard ‘gilded and adorned with marbles’: Cod. Iust. 8.11.21 (AD 440). Gilded roof: Parastaseis 37; Patria 2.41.

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Occupation or Abandonment? From this evidence of new building and maintenance, we can now turn to that for abandonment or passive continuity of occupation. As noted in the previous chapter, it is wise to be careful about language, as several processes are involved. To recap: Destruction is the obliteration of a plaza and its buildings by a violent act of man or nature. Demolition is a planned systematic action of man. Degradation is more complex: it can come in the form of the negative architectural modifications, such as the spoliation of veneers, or the demolition of key buildings like porticoes, which were part of the functional fabric of the plaza proper, rather than specialised buildings, which could be replaced as habits changed. Degradation also includes uncontrolled encroachment, although it excludes the planned subdivision of porticoes. Neither this, nor the appearance of productive industry, such as bronze or iron working, on their own, represent decay, simply a change of function, which might not result in the end of a plaza. Abandonment involves a decisive change in function for a plaza, or the end of all human occupation. It might be marked by the presence of a cemetery, which if big enough is good evidence for abandonment within a continuing city. Alternatively, it might be marked by silting or the dumping of secondary rubbish deposits (mixed collected waste), the establishment of parasitic limekilns, or the appearance of agricultural structures. All of these traits imply the abandonment of public plazas as urban elements. For this study, I have, again, not included examples that occur as part of general urban change, when abandonment is widespread. They tell us little about the relative importance of fora / agorai. To add to all of these processes, we have also evidence of passive continuity of occupation, marked not by any building works but simply by cleaning and a lack of encroachment or change in function, within continuing cities. In the West, 4 sites have been excavated which indicate that fora had been destroyed or abandoned during the 6th c.: in Hispania, at Conimbriga [destroyed, 500– 525], in Italy, at Luni [abandoned 500–550], in Africa, at Iol Caesarea (Cherchel) [abandoned, 500–600], and Bararus (Rougga) [earth dumped over robbed-out forum, sometime 200–575]. The number is surprisingly small. At most sites, abandonment levels date earlier, especially from the 5th c., a pattern reflected in graphs 48–50 (resuming all degradation and abandonment). However, decay does begin during the 6th–7th c. within major plazas at Rome and Carthage: it is seen in the Forum Romanum, with messy industrial activity in the East Rostra [500–600], and on the Admiralty

Fora and Agorai during the Sixth Century AD and Beyond

Island Plaza, where the portico was partially demolished. Buildings with mud-brick floors were constructed across it [587.5–698], after a phase of pitting, to which a large pottery kiln may be associated.48 Indirect testimonies of abandonment are given when structures were built covering a significant part of a forum, as if the space was merely a free building plot. Thus, at Aix, the cathedral was extended over the civic square, via the construction of a baptistery [500–525]; at Diana Veteranorum (Zana), in Numidia, a church was built over the plaza at an undated time during Late Antiquity [313–647].49 Again, more churches were actually built over plazas in the 5th c. than in the 6th. But under Africa’s reconquest administration, forts were built over public squares in 8 cities: at Thugga, Madauros, Tubernuc, ?Sufetula, Abthungi, Mustis, Sua, and Lepcis Magna. At Lepcis, the forum was entirely turned into a fortified area and its open area filled up with buildings [534–43].50 Cemeteries were also established in the 6th c. at 4 sites, two of which were inside Africa: at Carteia near Cádiz [487.5–512.5], at Rome in the Forum Pacis [500–600], at Carthage [587.5–698], and at Sabratha [533–600]. A cemetery at Valencia, detected on the edge of the forum, cannot be confirmed as extending over it [440–560].51 Nuancing this picture, we can point to sites which suggest of continuity of occupation in fora during the 6th c. A number of churches were built bordering fora, rather than being built over them, suggesting that the plazas still functioned, at least for a while, on 6 occasions at 5 sites in the West: at Ilici, sometime in 575–725, at Trieste in 313–565, at Sufetula in 439–600, at Sabratha in 533–625, and at Lepcis twice, in 533–43 and in 533–58 (of which only the first relates to a continuing open space). At Rome, on the Forum Romanum, public buildings surrounding the plaza began to be converted into churches from the 6th c. [526–30 for the ‘Temple of Romulus’, 625–38 for the Senate], but nothing was built over the square itself. These developments provide indirect evidence of respect for the open spaces of public squares, where buildings were not erected.52 Even at sites which had experienced decay, and 48  Abandonment evidence, the West: see appendices V4a–e. 49  Churches covering fora / agorai, the West: see appendix V1. 50  Fortifications covering / transforming public squares in reconquest Africa: Thugga, Madauros, Tubernuc, with Sufetula a possible candidate for Potter (1995) 67 with discussion, whilst Leone (2007) 191 adds Abthungi, Mustis, Sua, and Lepcis Magna [534–43]. 51   Cemeteries on fora: Rome, Forum Pacis (appendix S5a), Carthage (V4b), Sabratha (V4c), Carteia (V4c), Valencia (V4b). 52  Churches on, but not over, fora / agorai, the West: see appendices U1–U2.

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seen the arrival of silt or other materials, we can see instances where an open area was maintained and not built on: at Rodez, the square still seems to have been an open space when a house was built in the portico in the 6th c. [500–600]; at Carthage, the Admiralty Plaza also remained largely open, despite some encroaching buildings being constructed in the centre and on the edge of the area [587.5–698].53 Thus, we may have some plazas which were decaying visually but were still in use, as had the agora of Cyrene in the 4th c. In terms of textual sources, references to fora continue in Italy, during the 6th c. and beyond. Southern Gaul seems to belong to this same urban pattern. Fora feature notably in the writings of Sidonius for Narbonne and Arles in the 460s. The latter plaza is described by Caesarius, in early 6th c., for whom it was still a focal open space within the city, despite any change in its physical appearance. But in Hispania, northern Gaul, and Britain the picture is different: neither the 7th c. Lives of the Emeritan Fathers nor the later 6th c. writings of Gregory of Tours (credibly) mention fora, despite recalling many urban anecdotes with descriptions of churches, palaces, and city walls. There is no mention for Britain.54 The general impression is that, outside of Italy, and even within parts of Italy, fora were disappearing, though perhaps a little slower than was once thought. Within a few cities, they may have lasted longer, and have seen late repaving or cleaning, but even this was increasingly rare. In the East, only two sites show dramatic change in the 6th c., before its last 25 years. At Ephesus, the Upper Agora experienced a severe episode of degradation [491– 516, beginning no later], probably as a result of a seismic catastrophe, which also affected the Embolos: this led to its civil basilica being spoliated, its statue monuments being removed, and houses being built, in contrast to the Lower Agora. At Laodicea, the earthquake of 494 led to the collapse of the colonnades of the North Agora, after which small brick-floored structures, associated with a spolia workshop and perhaps a potter’s kiln, were 53  For decay but not extensively built on: Rodez (appendix V4b); Carthage (V4b). 54  Textual references to western fora, in Italy, 6th c.: Naples (Procop. Goth. 1.24.22–27); Rome (e.g. Procop. Anec. 8.15–20; Procop. Goth. 1.25.18–25; 4.21.11–14); Milan (ca. 500, Ennodius 3). Southern Gaul: Narbonne (AD 462–66): Sid. Apoll. Carm. 23.37–44 (description of city); Arles: Sid. Apoll. Ep. 1.11.7 (AD 461) and Caesarius of Arles (Life of Caesarius 1.31, 2.30 (first half of 6th c., not seen). In north-central Gaul, references stop in the later 5th c.: Vienne (forum home to deer, as part of general decay of city); Sid. Apoll. Ep. 7.1.3 (AD 474). In Britain, fora are not featured in post-Roman literature: Wickham (2005) 655. The mention by Gregory of Tours, V. Patrum 8.5 of a forum at Lyon in which the will of his uncle was read, may simply mean a law court, not an architectural setting.

356 established in the structure. A new agora was established to the south, at the same time. Elsewhere in the East, there is only slight evidence for degradation of agorai in the 6th c. At Corinth, surface deposits have been detected by excavation [red earth layer, 491–516], where a single coin of Arcadius should not be allowed to confuse the dating. This suggests degradation, but the open area of the agora does not seem to have been affected by an adjacent cemetery, which generally respected the plaza. At Gerasa, the oval plaza was encroached slightly, at its northern tip, as part of replanning of the shops of the adjacent north-south street, but this is only dated to sometime between 387.5 and 602.55 On a few sites, agorai were cut by new city wall circuits, as at Epidauros, or excluded by them, as at Aizanoi or Miletus. At Miletus, the Southern Agora was excluded by the ‘Byzantine’ wall, although unfortunately none of these walls can be closely dated, as far as I know.56 In terms of abandonment, cemeteries eventually extended over part of the agora at Corinth, with the first datable burials within it relating to the years around 600 [587.5–612.5]. More dramatic evidence comes from Xanthos, where a cemetery covered the Theatre Square in the years 587.5–650.57 A church was built on top of the open area of the same plaza. This new religious structure employed architraves taken from the agora portico, although repairs in reused material to the colonnade of this same portico suggest it may have continued to function alongside the new church, perhaps installed after a disaster had ruined the area. Certainly, the rest of the city remained intensively occupied and monumental in appearance. At Laodicea ad Lycum, a small church was built over the plaza and the ruined north portico, after the earthquake of 494 and before that of 602–610. More often, churches built over agorai have so far no dating evidence, such as those from Cherson, Philippi (geophysics), Rhodes, Pergamon, Knidos, Xanthos (the Lower Square), Ariassos, Phaselis, Seleucia / Lybre, and Kelenderis (see fig. F9).58 These 55  Abandonment evidence, the East: see appendices V5a–e. 56  Fortifications covering agorai in the East: Aizanoi: the Doric Yard (a square next to the bouleuterion) was truncated by a wall of apparently Middle Byzantine date: Rheidt (2001) 197– 99 (I was unable to obtain precision on this date). Miletus: Southern Agora was excluded by the late city wall, but it is no longer certain that this dates to the time of Justinian. The lintel with an inscription is too wide for the fortification gate. It may relate instead to a restoration of the entirely separate agora gate at this site, under Justinian: Niewöhner (2008); Kästner (2009). Inscription: Knackfuß (1924) 155 with fig. 170; Rehm (1997) 35f., Kat. 206. 57  Cemeteries over agorai, the East: see appendix V5c. 58  Churches covering eastern agorai, dated: see appendix V2–V3. For Xanthos, see appendices V2 and V5c.

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churches may have been constructed in the 5th or 7th c., as much as in the 6th c. Indeed, it seems, from both overbuilding and abandonment deposits, that the 6th c. was a less significant period of abandonment than the 5th c., when most recorded cases took place in the Balkans and the West, or the 7th c., when it is wellattested in Asia Minor. Again, we have a trace of the recovery of the later 5th–6th c.: ancient civilisation did not decline and fall in Late Antiquity but rather declined and rebounded, before falling in the 7th c. There are again examples from the East, where churches were built alongside rather than over agorai, as if the open space was still being respected. These can be dated to possibly the 6th c., at Novae [395–616] and Philippi [sometime 450–527], both in the northern Balkans, and more certainly at Sagalassos [525–75], in Asia Minor.59 Recent excavations (more precise than in earlier times) have also demonstrated continuity of occupation on agorai at eastern sites, during the whole of the 6th c., as at Aphrodisias and Sagalassos, and at Scythopolis, on the ‘Byzantine agora’. At these sites, abandonment is dated rather to the 7th–8th c. Such untroubled continuity is also likely to be the case in cities where church building took place close to or on a main square, which was itself untouched, as at Miletus and Xanthos. Likewise, Phaselis conserved a small square (or widening of the street) in front its theatre, to the end of Antiquity. The survival of the main agorai is also highly likely for Elaussia-Sebaste, where it was the commercial tetragônos agora, rather than the principal political square (so far unlocated), that was converted into a church.60 So what did the abolition of an agora represent? We must always ask the following questions. Was it part of a general collapse of classical urbanism, as in Britain in the 5th c., or in parts of Gaul and Raetia in the 3rd c.? Was it the loss of only one of several squares in a city, as seen in Greece and Asia Minor? This is attested at Athens, Philippi, Ephesus, and Hierapolis, and is likely the case at Pergamon. Here, the main centre was now located inside the walls of the lower city where another plaza may have continued. Or does the abolition of an agora represent the loss of the only public square 59  Churches built alongside, not over eastern agorai: see appendices U3–4. 60  Abandonment in 7th–8th c.: see appendix V5d. Main plaza not affected by redevelopment, at Philippi: Sève and Weber (2012) 22–26; at Miletus: see Kleiner (1968) 48–67, admittedly clearance excavated; at Xanthos: L. Cavalier pers. comm.; at Phaselis: Schäfer et al. (1981) pl. 39, and L. Lavan site visit 2005, whilst tetragonal agora overbuilt at 96–97 (see appendix V2 for dating), and 102–103 for hypothetical main agora (undated overbuild): see Bayburtoglu (1985) 374f.

357

Fora and Agorai during the Sixth Century AD and Beyond

N

0

figure f9

20m

Overbuilding by churches: the lower agora of Pergamon

within a city which remained a complex urban centre? In Hispania and Africa, many cities continued to be densely occupied but rejected their principal (or only) forum in the 5th c., a development which continued into the 6th c. Something similar may have happened in the 7th c. Levant, although it cannot yet be fully documented. However, in Greece and Asia Minor, from medium and larger cities, we have very few examples which suggest that this process was at work. Only at Argos, was the main agora in decay during the 5th c., whilst the city continued to flourish. Here, the fate of the square was perhaps different to those of other urban sites, due to the large size of the open space, and its former use for athletic competitions, now out of fashion.61 Overall, the balance of evidence, for repair and occupation versus abandonment, suggests that fora / agorai were still appreciated by many larger Mediterranean cities, if not all, in the 6th c. It supports the view expressed in Procopius’ Buildings, that an agora was still

an important element of a prosperous city.62 In the East, repair work was found in a smaller number of cities than in the 4th–5th c. level, and mainly in provincial capitals. Major new plazas were rare here in the 6th c., although not rarer than in the 4th–5th c., if set against the different spans of time. Some cities in the ‘Greek world’, such as Sagalassos, Ephesus, and Side, kept their agorai until the end of Antiquity. Yet, where comprehensive urban redevelopment was carried out, as in the Balkans and in some parts of the eastern frontier, it seems that agorai were not appreciated. Priorities had shifted elsewhere, and the last period of use took place against an atmosphere of limited enthusiasm on the part of civic elites, who preferred to invest in streets, baths, and churches, in their public or privatelyfunded building efforts. In the West, there were far fewer public squares than in earlier centuries. Only a scattering of cities around the Mediterranean coast show signs of building work. However, bigger changes in the story of fora / agorai had occurred earlier, in the 3rd or 5th c. What remained now was a type of public plaza that was

61  Agora of Argos, athletic function, with starting line for races, and unusual set of buildings: Dickenson (2012) 240–43.

62  Agora as important element in a city: Procop. Aed. 2.10.19–22 (Antioch), 3.4.18 (Melitene), 6.5.10–11 (Carthage).

358 less popular than it once was, but which was not necessarily still in decline. Any decline that did occur in agorai was not definitive by the end of the 6th c., especially not at Constantinople, where continuity was strongest. The Functions of Fora / Agorai and Associated Buildings It has to be admitted that most evidence for the everyday use of fora / agorai in Late Antiquity comes from the late 3rd to mid 5th c. AD. That for the 6th to 7th c. is limited in comparison. Superficially, this might seem to mirror the picture of architectural decline described above. However, to a certain extent, the reduction in textual evidence is due to changes in the source material available: formal epigraphic texts are scarce, and we no longer have collections of letters which earlier provided many anecdotes from the provinces. There is no Chrysostom for the later period, fulminating against the life of the agora: only Caesarius of Arles comes close. Yet, within secular urban chronicles, ecclesiastical histories and some saints’ lives, relating to the East and Central Mediterranean, there is no marked drop in references to the use of civic squares. We hear of events in fora / agorai at Constantinople, Thessalonica, Antioch, Emesa (Homs), Caesarea Palestinae, Gaza, Alexandria, and Carthage. Public squares also continue to be mentioned in topographical descriptions of urban destruction in major cities.63 In AD 600, the Forum of Constantine was ‘one of the city’s landmarks’, having been described a little earlier as ‘large and beautiful’. At around the same time, this square, or another forum, was ‘an illustrious place in the city’.64 These references match the eastern archaeology, which provides a slight but significant spread of evidence for the continued everyday use of agorai across the same region. Political Life Political functions leave a trace in the selective maintenance of public buildings around agorai, being mainly concentrated in imperial and provincial capitals. At Constantinople, the Augusteion, as rebuilt by Justinian, was given a new Senate House [532–44]. At Rome, the 63  Agorai in topographical description of urban destruction: see n. 6 (Antioch) e.g. Malalas 16.4, 18.132 (Jeffreys edition), drawn from Theophanes A.M. 6054 (AD 561/62) (Constantinople) and Theoph. Sim. Hist. 1.11.1. For the cities named see the text below, except for Caesarea and Gaza see Choricius Or. 1.17–18 (agora a notable place in city) and 3.39–41 (agora full in evening, seen in translation only). 64  Fora / agorai as landmarks at Constantinople in late 6th c.: Malalas 13.7; Theoph. Sim. Hist. 1.11.1, 7.12.10.

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Senate was repaired by a senator under Theoderic [507– 27], from whose time inscriptions have come, relating to its date. At Philippi, the façade of the curia was propped up with masonry piers after an earthquake [dated 536– 616].65 Elsewhere, there was no building or repair on city council chambers, which had been converted into other uses or demolished in eastern cities by this time, with building work never recovering from a mid 5th c. slump (graph 45). At Aphrodisias, the bouleuterion was converted into a ‘palaestra’ with a sunken orchestra, new staircases, and a set of topos inscriptions in the cavea to reserve seats for the audience [460–614]. That at Pella in Jordan was spoliated, sometime in 395–600. Finally, that at Scythopolis was demolished to build a sigma shopping plaza in 506–507. The repairs from Philippi, dated associatively as part of a phase of development, provide no basis to suggest that the city council was still meeting within the curia. Only in Constantinople was there a Senate still meeting in a bouleuterion. The eventual conversion of the Senate House in Rome into a church, in 625–38, reinforces the impression that such buildings were no longer used for their original function, outside of the eastern capital.66 At Constantinople and Antioch, praetoria of governors continued to be foci of political life on agorai. In the former city, the praetorium of the praetorian prefect of the East, on the Forum of Leo, was embellished under Justinian.67 Civil basilicas apparently endured into the 6th c, in the provincial capitals of Iol Caesarea, Aphrodisias, and Ephesus, perhaps because they still hosted traditional law courts. That at Carthage was rebuilt (possibly for a different function) [533–58], whilst that at Ephesus (the Hall of Nero), was fitted with a raised dais for the governor at one end [550–614]. Its exterior façade was covered with governors’ legal decisions and imperial constitutions, which date from the second half of the 6th c. Both modifications suggest that it did now serve as a law court. In contrast, within ordinary cities, 65  City council chambers, repair: appendix S12b. 66  City council chambers, disuse: appendix S12c. 67  Praetoria on agorai, Antioch in 6th c. (2 different examples): Malalas 13.4, 13.30 and Evagr., Hist eccl. 1.18 with 6th c. references to other surviving buildings here (porticoes and a macellum, e.g. in Malalas 9.5, 12.7, 17.19; Evagrius Hist eccl. 1.18) discussed by Downey (1961) 621–31; Constantinople, Forum of Leo: See Mango (1993a), with Lydus Mag. 2.21–22 which locates the palace of the praetorian prefect near the forum and describes improvement of official residence here (upper storey then new baths added) by Praetorian Prefects Sergius (AD 517) (PLRE 2.994–995 Sergius 7) and John the Cappadocian (AD 532–41) (PLRE 3.627–35 Fl. Ioannes 11). Other texts used by Mango, such as Parastaseis 67, and the alternate name of the forum Pittakia (briefs / missives), make it likely the palace was directly on the forum, or very close.

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civil basilicas were often converted into churches: only that at Xanthos seems to have escaped this fate.68 At Constantinople, the Zeuxippos Bath on the Augusteion was used for judicial hearings in the 6th c., as were the porticoes of the adjacent Basilica courtyard.69 There is some evidence of agorai still serving as places of public judicial punishment. Under Justinian, the urban prefect Victor paraded pederastic clergy with mutilated genitals in a forum of the eastern capital, whilst Marcellinus Comes notes that the corpses of rioters were hung up for display at Constantinople in 522/23. And, at the very end of Antiquity, the bodies of Phocas and his henchmen were burnt at the Forum Bovis, which was where later public burnings were carried out, inside an ox-headed furnace.70 At Antioch, ‘magic’ books were burned in front of the church of the Theotokos, officially, in the 490s, a building which may have been on an agora, whilst the corpse of a lynched praefectus vigilum was suspended in an antiphoros, unofficially, as part of

68   Civil basilica preservation, Iol Caesarea: until destruction of the forum in the middle of the 6th c.: see appendix Z2 with Potter (1995) 39, 48–51; Carthage: see appendix S6; Aphrodisias: Stinson (2008) 52 notes that basilica never converted into a church, and that coins going up to the reign of Heraclius (inventory no. C94–12) were the latest found in the debris on the floor of the long hall, on which also see Smith and Ratté (1997) 16. L. Lavan site observation 2005 noted crosses carved onto basilica columns, suggesting prolonged use in Late Antiquity. Ephesus, Hall of Nero on Lower Agora: see appendix X1b for building activity and inscriptions. Xanthos: there is no evidence of spoliation of this structure, or reuse of the main hall, despite a large 5th c. Christian church being set immediately behind it: L. Cavalier pers. comm. A foundry in the basement of the structure (oven, pieces of slag), dated to the 5th c. by ceramics (no further details, given as a ‘TPQ’ in the report), need not have prevented the open hall above being occupied: Des Courtils (2005) 449 with L. Cavalier pers. comm. (the report does not indicate that it was in the basement). 69  Law court, in baths on Augusteion: attested under Constantine and Leo: Sozom. Hist. eccl. 3.9, Socrates Hist. eccl. 2.16.2; Malalas 14.38. It then became a prison in the early 8th c.: Mango (1959) 41; (1990) 60; in porticoes of Basilica courtyard: Just. Nov. 82.3 (AD 539); Procop. Aed. 1.11.12 ‘imperial portico’ is ‘where lawyers and prosecutors prepare their cases’; See also Procop. Anec. 14.13 on how guards from the nearby palace try to influence cases put before judges here. Guilland (1969) vol. 2, 4–5 thinks this ‘imperial portico’ (ἡ βασιλικὴ στοά) is one single portico within the Basilica, but given the already ambiguous name of the courtyard, as a βασιλική, such nuances do not seem secure. 70   Bodies of Phocas and henchmen burned in the Forum Bovis (the Ox): Chronicon Pascale, Olympiad 347 (AD 610); Theophanes A.M. 6102 (AD 609/10); Ox-headed furnace in Forum Bovis used for public burnings until melted by Heraclius: Janin (1964) 69–71, Parastaseis 42, Kedrenus 8th Year of Phocas A (ed. Bekker vol. 1 p. 713).

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a riot, in the same city in the first decade of the 6th c.71 Such events could and did take place in the hippodrome or theatre, or in the streets of a city, so their placing in civic squares does suggest that agorai were not only places where large numbers of people could assemble, but also places where the authorities or rioters would still want people to gather to watch, carrying on practices from earlier centuries. For other political rituals, information is largely confined to Constantinople: the usurper Hypatios was elevated by the people in the Forum of Constantine during the Nika revolt, whilst during the Trisagion controversy crowds hostile to Anastasius installed a religious camp here ‘with the keys of all the city gates and military standards’, and shouted acclamations demanding that Areobindus be made emperor. A story preserved by Theophylact Simocatta may indicate the survival of this tradition of protest: he records that in AD 600 a monk unsheathed a blade in ‘the Forum’ and ran as far as the palace vestibule, prophesying the violent death of the emperor and his children.72 In contrast, formal ceremonial contact between the people and the emperors themselves is not directly attested in the public squares of the capital for the 6th c. Whilst Constantine had given an address to the people from the Rostra of the Forum Romanum, as had Honorius and Theoderic, no emperor of the 6th c. is recorded doing so at Constantinople: the arena of active public contact seems to have been the Hippodrome, or the street, through processions. There is no evidence that the imperial appearances at the Column of Constantine, attested by the Book of Ceremonies, date from Late Antiquity.73 We should not underestimate the extent to which the plazas of Constantinople still acted as foci for the display of imperial power. As we have seen, the image of a victorious emperor had been projected by large statues in Rome and other cities for many centuries and continued thus in the 6th c. capital. To a certain extent, 71  Judicial punishments, at Antioch: Zach. Myt. V. Sev. p. 69 (in the 490s, in front of a church but no agora mentioned); Malalas 16.6 (under Anastasius). 72  Political activities, imperial accession: Forum of Constantine and Hypatios: Procop. Pers. 1.24.22–24, Malalas 18.71. Areobindus: Marcell. com. (AD 511–12.3–4). Unsheathed sword: Theoph. Sim. Hist. 7.10. The same author imagines an agora as a place to where conquered kings drew the chariot of the pharaoh Sesostris, and in so doing altered the architectural setting of an earlier account 6.11 (in a reported speech of an ambassador to the Avar Chagan), whilst Diodorus Siculus (1.58.2) has kings drawing his chariot to temples and cities. 73  Ceremonies in which the emperor mounted steps at the Column of Constantine: Cer. 1.1 (Nativity of the Virgin Mary), 1.10 (Easter Monday), 1.30 (Annunciation Day), 2.19 (Triumph over Saracens), commented by Mango (1980–81) 105–107.

360 older images in the fora of the city provided a ‘college of emperors past’ which might reinforce imperial dignity, even if no surviving text explicitly states this view. The Augusteion seems to have been especially popular as a ‘hall of fame’, into which imperial statues were set: in Justinian’s day the Parastaseis claims there were images of seven late antique emperors here; statues of at least two empresses are also known for the square. This is unsurprising given the name of the plaza and its proximity to the palace. It is thus not necessary to see the ‘closing’ of the square by Justinian (based on its description as peristylos in its rebuilt form) as a watershed moment. His intervention did not turn the area into an imperial forecourt of the palace: it already had this function. Procopius’ account of people sitting casually on the steps of the Column of Justinian does not suggest that the plaza became especially solemn after the rebuilding. We might expect merely that it was subject to the same behavioural restrictions as the adjacent Basilica courtyard.74 Outside of the capital, evidence of political display in agorai is mainly confined to Asia Minor. Some notables were honoured through statues dedicated by the city at Aphrodisias, on the Tetrastoon square. However, as we have seen, most of the evidence relates to local notables, although only one can be set in the main agora, the rest being found nearby. Other 6th c. statues to local benefactors found out of context may have graced the same square, whilst at Corinth unidentified statues of late antique date, found in the agora, sporting the chlamys, could conceivably date as late as the 6th c.; they likely represent honorati, rather than proconsuls, as the latter would wear a toga.75 We cannot rule out the presence of imperial portraits, still used in law courts, as in the later 6th c. Rossano Gospels ‘Christ before Pilate’ scene. Indeed, Procopius of Gaza talks of the presence of the emperor (Anastasius) in the tribunal, suggesting that this was common in Palestine. He talks of erecting images to the emperor, like in other cities, suggesting that this honour continued, perhaps in the Levantine manner of painted boards, rather than sculpture, as in the 74   Imperial statues until time of Justinian, Augusteion: Parastaseis 11 (Patria 2.96) (Carus, Constantine, Constantius, Constans, Julian, Licinius, Valentinian, Theodosius, Arcadius, and his son (Theodosius II)). Empresses: three statues of Helena mentioned by Parastaseis 11. Rebuild of Augusteion: see appendices K2b and S3, which have details of statuary in full, plus commentary in Mango (1959) 42–47; Guilland (1969) 41–46; Stichel (2000). Sitting on the steps of Justinian’s column: Procop. Aed. 1.2.1. Rules for behaviour in Basilica courtyard: Cod. Iust. 8.11.21 (AD 440). 75  Honorific statues at Aphrodisias, local notables on South Agora or adjacent Hadrianic Baths: see n.27. ALA 85 is dedicated by the city. Corinth, honorati: see appendix K9.

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4th c.76 New forms of monumental honour were also emerging. As noted above, the clarissimus Albinus was granted a statue by the city of Aphrodisias in the west portico of the South Agora. Yet he was also honoured here by the city in a series of elaborate acclamations, cut and painted in red letters on columns of the same portico, which he had restored, sometime within or after the reign of Justinian [527–614] (fig. F6). These slogans, likely chanted at this spot, wished him a place in the Senate, amongst other honours.77 There are a few other modest examples of civic evergetism known from eastern agorai. At Gaza, the water clock dedicated in the early 6th c. can be seen in these terms: it was paid for by a local benefactor and was inaugurated with an ekphrasis by the rhetor Choricius. At Sagalassos, it has been suggested that the restoration of the nymphaeum on the Upper Agora in the 6th c. included a rededication to the Neon family. This is a conjecture based on the inclusion of several non-original statues relating to the family in this structure; one could also note that this is also the setting where civic, rather than imperial statues were concentrated within the Upper Agora, in its final arrangement.78 Finally, at Aphrodisias, dedications of gameboards found in the agora can also be seen as seeking recognition for the efforts of patrons, such as pateres and scholastici, who were happy to be identified with this modest work, as was Agathias at Smyrna, when he held the former office.79 Social Life Evidence for social activities is more widely spread than that for political life, though still mostly eastern. As noted earlier, at Constantinople, Belisarius walked from his house to the agora every day on foot, surrounded by admirers, escorted by Vandals and Goths (likely his domestic servants rather than all bucellari).80 Again, for Cassiodorus, the forum was still a regular feature of the daily round of a nobleman at Rome, just as it had been at Athens, Constantinople, and Antioch during the 4th to early 5th c., or at Arles in the 460s.81 It is difficult to tell if the practice of marching to the agora with one’s servants was in decline. As has been described, we hear of 76  Procopius of Gaza Or. 2.12 (PG 87.3.2812). Images of the emperor as in other cities: Or. 2.29 (PG 87.3.2825). 77  Acclamations at Aphrodisias: ALA 83–84, with Roueché (1984). 78  Sagalassos nymphaeum ‘re-dedication’: http://www.sagalassos.be/en/monuments_sites/monumental_centre_north/ antonine_nymphaeum (last accessed March 2012); concentration of civic statues in this final display: Lavan (2013a) 324–25. 79  Gameboards: see n. 40. 80  Daily visit of Belisarius to agora with suite, Constantinople: Procop. Goth. 3.1.5–6. 81  Visit to forum, as part of a Roman noble’s daily round: Cassiod. Var. 8.31.

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such processions heading for the baths or to churches, in a number of cities in both the East and the West. Yet, we do not hear of patronal processions to the agora at Antioch, Edessa, or Emesa, the existence of ample literature in which such behaviour might have been recorded. On this basis, we could suggest that Constantinople retained older forms of behaviour that were in decline or had disappeared elsewhere, but this proposition remains highly tentative. People still met informally in the agora at Constantinople in Procopius’ day like those who sat about on the steps of the Column of Justinian.82 At Emesa, the activities of Symeon the Fool imply that the agora was a significant and frequented place. On one occasion, bystanders in the agora watched him whipping columns, prior to an earthquake. On another, he threw stones across the plaza, to prevent people crossing it and so falling into the path of invisible demons. In his quest to break contemporary taboos, Symeon sought to shock bystanders with behaviour that was unsuited to this setting: on one occasion, he publicly defecated ‘in the market-place’.83 At Alexandria, in the early 7th c., John the Almsgiver remarked that visitors to the city (xenoi) slept in the agora, whilst at Constantinople beggars still frequented ‘the agora’, although, for the last case, an architectural context is not confirmed.84 Something of the surviving social activities of agorai can also be seen in the amenity of building works, whether providing sundials or fountains, porticoes or professionally-cut gameboards, to sit alongside those scribbled by the people, occasionally over 6th c. surfaces.85 Dedications of formal gameboards reveal that a good deal of fun was had, and that games contests could generate a lively spectacle. Agathias, perhaps during the time when he was pater civitatis of Smyrna, asked players to avoid blasphemies and loud snorting should they lose, echoing a comment of Ammianus two centuries earlier. On another gameboard, Agathias lauded good losers, seeing here a moral test to reveal the character of 82  Agora as place to socialise (along with church): Procop. Anec. 26.11. People sit on steps in Augusteion: Procop. Aed. 1.2.1. 83  Agora as frequented place at Emesa (Homs): Leont. N. v. Sym. 4 (Ryden edn. (1974) 148 (p. 72), 150 (p. 83, whipping pillars), 157 (p. 91)), with Evagrius Hist. eccl. 4.34, who locates or imagines the columns whipped being those of the agora; Leont. N. v. Sym. 4 (Ryden edn. 157) (stone-throwing and defecation). 84  Beggars (ex-soldiers) at Constantinople: Procop. Anec. 24.7, though this could mean ‘in public’; visitors sleeping there at Alexandria: John the Almsgiver 21. 85   Casually-inscribed gameboards on 6th c. / early 7th c. surfaces: Sagalassos: cross in circle on Lower Agora paving, adjacent to agora gate and cross in square on Upper Agora on ramp leaving north-east corner: L. Lavan site observation 2005. Rome, steps on the Column of Phocas: see appendix F9.

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men in public.86 In terms of new civil public buildings in agorai, there are few if any examples of ‘social amenity’ constructions from the period. At Aphrodisias, the conversion of the bouleuterion into a ‘palaestra’ for water spectacles, has produced seating reservations that likely date from the 6th c. At Constantinople, the library on the Basilica courtyard also seems to have been maintained, after a possible restoration under Zeno, under whom it had burned down in AD 476; it is mentioned again in the 8th c., but not between these dates. The presence of booksellers here, in the mid 6th c., the only commerce permitted in the square, indeed the only booksellers known in any late antique city, is indicative of its survival.87 In a tale from late in the reign of Justinian, the Basilica appears as an open-air lounge for intellectuals, not unlike the Jardin de Luxembourg, adjacent to the Sorbonne in Paris. The square was an elegant place, where philosophical gatherings could be tolerated but picnics and wedding celebrations could not. Overall, it seems that the popularity of agorai as popular meeting places persisted, where the squares survived.88 Commercial Life Commercial activity leaves a modest but still discernible trace for 6th c. plazas. A macellum is attested in operation at Antioch on the Forum of Valens, in the time of Malalas. Two separate market buildings were repaired on the Upper Agora at Sagalassos [450–575, dividing a central space into smaller rooms; 487.5–575 rebuilding 86  Formal gameboards: ALA 69–71 (Aphrodisias, dedications of four boards by a pater and scholasticus (2). An exceptor, and a magnificentissimus). One of these comes from the east court of the Hadrianic Baths which enters onto the South Agora. See also Anth. Graec. 9.767–69 (Agathias Scholasticus, who was pater of Smyrna), echoing Amm. Marc. 14.6.25. 87  Civil public buildings: Aphrodisias, bouleuterion converted for water spectacles, made into a ‘palaestra’ in an inscription of the mid 5th c.: ALA no. 43, with Roueché (1993) no. 47.2 for the seat reservations, which include topos inscriptions for the Blue faction, which should be no earlier than the later 5th c., when the faction became responsible for organising entertainments. Constantinople, Basilica courtyard: the restoration of the library after the fire of AD 476 (when the Basilica itself was restored) depends upon a dedication of a gilded statue to Zeno from in front of the Museon, which praises Julian the prefect for restoring the ‘House of Helicon’: Anth. Graec. 16.69–70. See discussion and references in Guilland (1969) vol. 2, 5–6, who suggests that the library was not destroyed by fire again in January AD 532, for which see n. 91. Booksellers: Agath. 2.23–31. See also secondary literature cited in appendix S3 on the restoration of Basilica courtyard. No establishment of boards or shops in Basilica: Cod. Iust. 8.11.21 (AD 440) tabulato quicquam opere stationes ergasteriave constitui sancimus. 88  Basilica courtyard as place for speculative discussions of intellectuals: Agath. 2.23–31. Rules on comportment in Basilica: Cod. Iust. 8.11.21 (AD 440).

362 of shops on three sides]. An ivory workshop is amongst the trades attested in last phases of the macellum here.89 We have the rebuilding of the specifically commercial tetragonal agora of Ephesus, with its many cellular shops [500–610]. Dated shops built on agorai during the 6th c. are attested at Rome [507–11], at Dyrrachium [500–525], at Sagalassos [three times 450–75, 500–575, 500–628], with cellular rooms built onto an agora portico from existing shops in 525–641 and 525–575, at Bostra [possibly, 487.5–512.5], and at Abu Mina [475–532]. Shops were also repaired at Dyrrachium [530–55], Sagalassos [450–575], and Ephesus [550–610]. Taken on their own, these examples are not impressive: they represent only a small proportion of the many cases of new shop construction / repair dating to Late Antiquity on fora / agorai. However, one can talk of the continued use of retail structures on agorai, in the East at least, as established in the earlier centuries of Late Antiquity.90 Sagalassos also reveals regulated stalls with topos inscriptions on its Upper Agora, which seem to date in part from the later 6th or early 7th c., as the chapter on commercial space will discuss. Of specific trades, it is possible that the philosophers, whom Agathias saw holding forth in the Basilica courtyard, were working for money, as teachers, although his remarks suggest they had no formal permission. The legal schools on this square are attested throughout the period, based in the Octagon lecture hall, which was probably rebuilt by Justinian.91 For other plazas of Constantinople, we only have commercial evidence from after Late Antiquity. The tradesmen of the Forum of Constantine are well-known from the Middle Byzantine period, some specialising in luxury goods, whilst a reference from the Patria describes the 89  Macella occupation and repair: Antioch: Malalas 9.5, 12.7, with Downey (1961) 632–40; Sagalassos: see appendices T1a, with W1–W3. 90  Shop construction: see appendices Y1–3. For Bostra see S1. 91  Basilica courtyard as place of education: booksellers and discussions in philosophy (the Syrian Ouranios) recorded by Agath. 2.23–31. Julian had attended classes here: Socrates, Hist. eccl. 3.1.9. A dedication in the Anth. Graec. 9.660 implies legal schools taking place in the Basilica. Octagon is destroyed in the Nika riot fires which ravaged this district according to Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 327 says (AD 531, date from edn. of Whitby and Whitby (1989), although clearly January 532 from Theophanes A.M. 6024 (AD 531/32 edn. of Mango and Scott (1997)). For the later history of the Octagon, see Mango (1959) 50, who assembles late sources which claim that its professors, hostile to iconoclasm, were burnt with the building in AD 726. This would imply that Justinian re-established / repaired the Octagon, a building operation I have omitted from the appendices, due to its speculative nature. See also for the Octagon’s nature and position: Guilland (1969) vol. 2, 6–10; Speck (1974) 103–107; Cameron (1976) 271–73.

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Forum of Theodosius as a cattle market, in the time of Constantine V (741–75).92 At Ephesus, a glass workshop was operating in the second half of the 6th c. [550–600]. At Sagalassos, we have two bars / restaurants in the shops of the Lower Agora attested by archaeology [ca. 500–610]. On the Upper Agora, we have textile workers and a blacksmith’s, attested by both epigraphy and archaeology, dating mainly from the 6th c. [525–75 for the blacksmith’s]. Another shop was occupied by some sort of administrator, perhaps a civic slave ruling the markets or someone involved in tax collection, as revealed by a specialised set of professionally-inscribed metal weights [525–641]. Finally, at Emesa, a notary is described as working in the agora there, under Justinian.93 Within the open space of the plaza, food stalls are still likely, as described in the chapter on commercial space. At Carthage, Procopius records that Belisarius sent his soldiers to buy their lunch in the agora, rather than seizing it, when they occupied the city. At Constantinople, the Chronicle of Zuqnin similarly records the market-place as a place for selling provisions, in its descriptions of the city in AD 543–44.94 Religious Life Of religious activities, we have most information about Constantinople. Here, two ‘temples’ were restored and built by the same urban prefect in 520: an arcaded canopy / ciborium on the Basilica courtyard (probably the Tychaion of Constantinople), and an unspecified shrine on the Augusteion, honouring Justin I and Justinian, perhaps also a ciborium.95 Whilst this might seem extraordinary, such imperial sacella had 4th to early 5th c. precedents, and temples were still being restored at Rome in late 5th to early 6th c., with work on the Capitolium in 493–526.96 Admittedly, we hear of no 92  Fora / agorai as markets: Constantinople, Forum of Con­ stantine in Middle Byzantine period: Patria 2.103; Theophanes Cont. 5.93 (Neihburr edn. p. 339.1–7); luxury goods attested from 10th c.: see references collected in Bauer (1996) 185–86. Forum of Theodosius as cattle market: Patria 3.149. 93  Specific trades: see appendix T1b; for Sagalassos textile work, see chapter on shops; for Emesa tabellio see Procop. Anec. 28.6. 94  Agora as place to buy and sell provisions, at Carthage: Proc. Vand. 1.21.10 (definite place); at Constantinople? (a city by the sea): Chronicle of Zuqnin (105–106) (AD 543/44). 95  Temples, new: see appendix T2. 96  Temple restored, not on forum, Rome (Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus): sometime A.D. 493–526 (when PLRE 2.480 Valerius Florianus 4 was urban prefect): CIL 6.1794 = CIL 6.40807 = ILS 825 = EDR073917. Quite what was restored is unclear from the fragmentary inscription, but the word capitolium is clear, and the rest of the inscription is a building inscription relating to the secretarium senatus and the atrium libertatis.

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acts of cult or even festal rejoicing taking place in association with these temples. Both new dedications and repairs stopped in Justinian’s reign. Nevertheless, we should not imagine the period to be a renewed era of temple destruction. We have just two sites with evidence of this: at Rome (Forum of Augustus), the temple of Mars Ultor was demolished for spoliation [486–546], whilst at Lepcis Magna, two temples in the old forum were covered by the line of the sea wall fortification [534–43]. Of temples converted to other uses (both to churches) we again have only two sites, at Ilici [575–725] and at Side, where two temples on the Harbour Square were incorporated into a church complex with very little change [500–600].97 Thus, there is not much evidence for temple destruction, just as there had not been much in the 4th–5th c. Major decisions on closure, conversion, or demolition had been taken much earlier, and around fora / agorai, we see no rising tide of temple destruction, as hagiographic sources of the 6th c. might suggest. The only religious activities of which we hear relate to Christianity. Under Justinian, during an earthquake, the ‘whole people’ of the capital gathered for prayers, petitions, and vigils, in the Forum of Constantine. However, this, and the anti-monophysite protest under Anastasius, is the only instance we have of any public square serving as a religious focus, and these activities are likely to have been drawn here by the Column of Constantine: such meetings likely occurred in this place because he was the heroic patron of the city, and his role had only been loosely Christianised.98 It is best to see the relationship of Christian religious activity as unconnected to fora / agorai as secular meeting places. This contrasts sharply to the relationship of temples to agorai in earlier centuries, when there was a profound link between public cults and the sanctification of political rituals. Indeed, it is very hard to make any connection between churches and agorai, despite a few now being built alongside rather than over ancient plazas. We see this at Ilici (Hispania) [575–725], at Rome, twice in the Forum Romanum [526–30; 625–38], at Sufetula [439–600], at Lepcis Magna twice [533–43, 533–58], and at Sagalassos [525–75]. There may be more from the 6th–7th c.: 13 other cases are known which are not closely dated, as was made clear in the previous chapter.99 Yet, churches were built inside many other buildings across late antique cities, not only on fora / agorai. Even in the 6th 97  Temples, demolition: see appendix T2. Temples, conversion: see appendix T3. 98  Religious gathering, Forum of Constantine, Constantinople: Malalas 18.77 (ca. AD 532) (edn. of Jeffeys and Jeffreys (1986)). Protests under Anastasius: Marcell. com. (AD 511–12.3–4). 99  Churches built alongside, not on fora 6th–7th c.: appendix U2 and U4, U5.

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c., little attempt was made to achieve an architectural impact on a plaza in framing ecclesiastical monuments. The Justinianic Church of Hagia Sophia again made little use of the adjacent Augusteion, which was the forecourt of the Senate, not of the church, the main entrance of which gave out onto a street. Even at Abu Mina, the Pilgrim’s Court was an after-thought, which produced a side-access into two churches, although it was wellconnected to a colonnaded street, with an axially-set fountain and centrally positioned ‘honorific column’. Only at Sagalassos was the agora potentially used as a forecourt to a church, being connected to it by a new white limestone staircase [525–75]. It would be many centuries before churches were built with a proper front plaza in Europe, to set off a view of a basilica’s façade and to host those gathering for its ceremonies.100 The Seventh Century and Beyond The late 6th and early 7th c. saw the collapse of classical urbanism in the Balkans and much of Asia Minor. In these regions, cities often ceased to be occupied, at least in any recognisably classical sense. Their agorai shared the same fate as the cities they served. At Dyrrachium, the round plaza was dismantled sometime 570–600, after which time graves of unverified 7th–8th c. date cover the plaza. At Aphrodisias, coins in the North Agora extend throughout the 6th c., into the early 7th c., with one coin of Phocas (reigned 602–610) and three of Heraclius (610–41). In contrast, there is only one coin of the relatively common issues of Constans II (reigned 641–68). This suggests that occupation ceased during 641–66. There is then a clear break, with wind and water deposits, before Middle Byzantine occupation. At Sagalassos, the abandonment of the Upper Agora seems to have begun in 631–56, although degradation may have begun a little earlier: the dumping of refuse in two market buildings and a basin on the agora took place in the ceramic period covering 550–700, whilst a destruction took place on the west portico sometime in 535–75, which necessitated a repair to the bouleuterion church apse. On the Lower Agora, there is evidence of destruction on both sides of the plaza. Whatever its cause (earthquake is likely) the east side has the clearest and latest evidence, ceramics of 550–700 and coins of 641–48, which suggest a destruction in 641–66. Destruction and abandonment deposits remain to be fully documented

100   Churches connected to agorai: Sagalassos, bouleuterion church: see appendix U4.

364 elsewhere, although the absence of datable evidence for later repair is telling.101 In territories conquered by the Islamic armies, classical agorai were not part of new foundations, neither in the ‘amsar forts, nor in the large settlement of ‘Anjar. This is not to say that courtyards were not appreciated, within mosques and palaces. But their architectural setting was much more enclosed, less open to the streets, a space for the initiated or the privileged, more like an atrium or a peristyle than an agora. These plazas did not constitute a public stage from which the whole community, in all its religious and social diversity, could be reached. The only example of a square which seems close to a 6th c. agora is the entrance courtyard of the Umayyad palace at Philadelphia (Amman), a rectangular area surrounded by cellular rooms, probably shops.102 When we turn to look at pre-existing cities conquered by Islamic rulers, one text offers some confidence in continuity of public plazas: Dionysios of Tel Mahre (writing ca. 776) records an Abbasid superintendent of commercial taxation measuring shops on the streets and squares of cities in this region. We also see plazas listed in catalogue descriptions of urban spaces elsewhere in the same text.103 This most likely represents the situation as seen from the Umayyad centre of Damascus, the capital until 749, where continuity might well have been strong. Archaeology has nothing to add to this single testimony, for Africa or Egypt. However, in the Near East, the fate of agorai under Islam can now be evaluated from excavation. Here, a story is starting to become clear, of degradation, encroachment, and abandonment, with one instance of limited survival. At Antioch, the Forum of Valens site was partially covered by a cemetery, from which ceramics, provisionally dated to the 5th to 7th c., have been recovered. These sherds give us only a loose range of 400–700. A storage building with pithoi, built over the forum, has produced pottery of the same date. If the identification of this plaza as that of Valens is correct then we might expect this transition to be post-Justinianic, given that monuments mentioned around the plaza, described by Malalas, were active during his reign. At Bostra, we have greater precision: layers excavated immediately over the paving, reflecting occupation, contained unspecified 101  Abandonment as part of widespread urban change, later 6th to 7th c.: Dyrrachium (appendix S2); Aphrodisias (V5b); Sagalassos, Upper Agora (V5b), Sagalassos, Lower Agora (V5b). 102  Agorai not in ‘amsar: Northedge (1994); Whitcomb (1994a), (1994b), (1994c). ‘Anjar: Hillenbrand (1999). Mosque courtyards: Creswell (1969) (not seen). Amman (Philadelphia), which has an unusual square surrounded by shops in the Umayyad citadel: Arce (2002). 103   Superintendent of commercial taxation: Dionysius of Tel Mahre 103 (Syriac, not checked). Plazas mentioned elsewhere in same text: 32, 34, 36, 126 (Syriac, not checked).

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pottery of the end of the 5th to the 6th c., whilst brown soil covering the paving, representing degradation, contained 7th c. material. This evidence places the main period of degradation in 600–700, not earlier. At Scythopolis, the agora became a potter’s manufactory in the Umayyad period, being built across the south-east portico, although cellular shops on the south-west side were rebuilt, as if the shrunken plaza was still a place of trade [635–749]. The agora at Hippos / Sussita was likewise encroached, with rough walls for housing and a milling area [580–749], whilst a winery was established just off the plaza, in the 2nd quarter of the 7th c. [625– 50]. It is also possible that the city of Beroia in Syria saw its agora built over by a mosque in AD 715. Here, Sauvaget hypothesised an agora, based on a gap in the colonnades of the main avenues, and on the terminus of the aqueducts at this central point. Thus, whilst Scythopolis offers a mixed picture, the overall impression we have is of the degradation and disuse of classical squares in the Near East under Umayyad rule. The contrast in the region between the demise of agorai during this period and the continued building of monumental streets and cellular shops is striking.104 From the territories left under ‘Byzantine’ control there are a few pieces of evidence (textual, epigraphic, and archaeological) for the occasional continuity of fora / agorai into the 7th c. and beyond. At Constantinople, the portico of the Forum of Constantine still existed in the 8th c., albeit encroached. Its statues, along with those of the Forum of Theodosius, stood until 1204. At Thessalonica, an agora is known in the closing years of the 8th c., and even afterwards.105 At Ephesus, coins found in the shops around the tetragonal agora attest to occupation as late as the reign of Theophilus (829–42), to which a layer of plaster in some rooms might be connected. Unfortunately, the stratigraphy was too roughly handled by early excavators to confirm if the square itself remained open. Certainly, the urban quarter underwent 104  Agorai under Islam: see appendices V5b and Z3, on abandonment and over-building. Buildings around the Forum of Valens: Malalas 13.30 (horologion); Malalas 9.5, 12.7 (macellum). 105  Cple, Forum of Constantine: chapel to Theotokos built in AD 867–886: Patria 3.29a, apparently in the portico: see Janin (1969) 236f for exact sources. Statue of Athena still in the Forum of Constantine in 1204, as was the great equestrian statue of Theodosius in his forum: Nicetas Choniates, 559–60, 643, 649, discussed by Bassett (2004) 188–92, 208–11. Thessalonica: agora attested by Theodore the Studite in a topographical description of the city: PG 99.917 (letter 3). Other references assembled and commented by Speiser (1984) 85–86. It seems that there was more than one agora in the city, as noted by Himer. Or. 39.7 and in an anonymous Greek Passion of St. Demetrius (PG 116.1176), where a megalophoros (τοῦ τῆς πόλεως μεγαλοφόρου) is mentioned. I do not dare to enter into speculation about the location or medieval architectural reality of this square.

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major changes. Surrounding areas outside the adjacent new fortification were covered by early 7th c. destruction deposits. At the same time, undated late walls suggest a raising of the agora surface by around 1 m at some stage.106 In Italy, we know that the paving of two imperial fora at Rome was not robbed until the 9th c., whilst a lack of 7th to 8th c. deposits implies cleaning up until this time on another forum.107 Overall, this evidence seems to indicate that some major regional capitals maintained their public squares inherited from Antiquity, long after they had completely disappeared elsewhere. In second-ranking Italian cities, at Milan, Pavia, and Verona, there is, equally, literary evidence for the continued existence of ‘fora’. Some of this ‘evidence’ consists of rhetorical literary descriptions, which archaeologists have tended to doubt.108 However, given archaeological evidence for continuity at Rome, one should be cautious about dismissing mentions of fora in texts as fabrications of classicising nostalgia. One can also suspect 106  E  phesus, Lower Agora, occupation of shops to 8th–9th c.: attested by coins of Constantine V (AD 775, 40 nummi in shop Q) and Theophilus (AD 829–42, one follis in west portico) found around the agora, and by surviving stratigraphy in one shop (J) where it had not been removed by early excavators: this shows use of room extending beyond deposits containing abundant 6th c. coins: Karwiese (1997) 11–12. Plaster layer: identified by 1998 excavation, according to P. Scherrer (2001) 80, who sees here suburban domestic accommodation of the 9th c. On walls possibly relating to this occupation, blocking the southern shops, up to a level 1.2 m above the ancient surface, and rough cellular rooms secondary to the 6th c. north portico see: Wilberg (1923) 13, 15, plus Foss (1979) 111–12. Similar late rough blockings of the intercolumniations (looks like cellular rooms) were found in 1997 at the east end of the north portico, by the north gate: Scherrer (2006) 54. Destruction deposits of early 7th c. date: Scherrer (2001) 80. 107  Rome, Fora of Caesar and Trajan, not robbed of their paving until the first half of the 9th c.: see preliminary report without dating evidence in Santangeli Valenzani (2001) 269–71; see also Meneghini and Santangeli Valenzani (2007) 271–72. Also see conference on the Forum of Caesar and the new excavations, published at Scienze dell’Antichità in 2010 especially Meneghini (2010). Abandonment strata over the paving has been lost due to intensive spoliation. Rome, Forum of Nerva: paving preserved (and thus cleaned) until road established over it in the mid 8th c: Santangeli Valenzani (2007) 269, 272; Santangeli Valenzani (2011); Santangeli Valenzani (1999) 163–69. See also Meneghini (2001) 149–72; Meneghini (2000) 83–89. 108  Literary references to fora in Italy after 6th c.: Pavia (Paul the Deacon, HL 6.5 grass and bushes in market-place in AD 680, forum still mentioned ca. 800, when classical inscriptions were still visible CIL 5.6431 = ICUR 2.32 no 81); Milan (Versum de Mediolano civitate 6 (AD 739)) (MGH Poetarum Latinorum Medii Aevi vol. 1 (Berlin 1881) 24–46); Verona (Versus de Verona 4 (ca. 800)) (MGH Poetarum Latinorum Medii Aevi vol. 1 (Berlin 1881) 119–22) describes ‘a wide and spacious forum paved with stones, at each of its four angles stands a great arch’. On this topic, see Wickham (2005) 655; Potter (1995) 95; Ward-Perkins (1984) 182–84, 223–38.

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that often the very latest phases of cleaning and pavement occupation have simply been missed by excavators, minimising traces of continuity in favour of loosely dated archaeologies of decay. Admittedly, it is possible that in some places in the West Mediterranean, fora could have retained some of their traditional function as a focus for public life, whilst they changed radically in appearance. As we have seen, this is documented in the cases of Cyrene, and to a lesser extent Egnatia, whereby gradual encroachment of the plaza coexists with a large open space over an extended period, rather like a shrinking market-place in medieval Europe.109 Despite this, the idea of wider continuity, between the ancient forum and the medieval urban square, seems difficult to assert. There is very little physical continuity between them, and it is probably no accident that the word used to describe the medieval spaces in Spain, Gaul, and Italy— plaza / place / piazza—was not derived from forum nor agora but from the Greek word platea, which primarily refers to a colonnaded street.110 But often, especially in Greece and Asia Minor, the pattern from archaeology, where we have it, seems to be one of continued maintenance, followed by sudden over-building or abandonment. In such cases, later urban renewal does not take the earlier plaza into account. It seems wisest to believe in the selective architectural survival of the ancient fabric, where this can be attested in literary sources, but set within an overall story of decay. Thus, the forum / agora disappear in the early 7th c., in all but the largest cities of Italy and the Aegean. Continuity, where it existed, need not have been glamorous: it might have involved messy repairs to forum paving in tiles, as seen as Florence, or the reinforcement of porticoes with unsightly piers, or walls blocking intercolumniations, as in the Forum of Constantine; statues might have been gradually thinned out, as they were in the Basilica courtyard in Constantinople during the 9th and 10th c. In some cases, the level of the plaza would have risen substantially from silting and resurfacing. This is confirmed for the Augusteion, and is also likely for the Forum of Constantine, where the Ottoman level may have been reached by the Middle Byzantine period. 109  Gradual encroachment: see appendices V4a–b, V5a–b, on 4th–5th c. abandonment. This provides an answer to Christie (2006) 216, who asks why gradual encroachment has not featured in discussions of the fate of fora / agorai in Late Antiquity. 110  Platea and plaza / piazza: Spanu (2002), but in some cases where platea may mean forum, see n. 11. See new article taking the debate into the Middle Ages by Dey (2016), which only came to me at the end of this book. At Gerasa, a compact market building is named as an ‘agora’ by graffiti found on site, which is clearly an odd variant usage: Olavarri Goicoechea (1986) esp. 33–38.

366 These plazas were still public squares, in the classical manner, but only just.111 From Agora to Church? The agora’s gradual drop from pre-eminence should not be confused with its 7th–8th c. near-disappearance. Nonetheless, it is wise to consider already for the 6th c., alternative spaces to which activities found in public squares might have gone. At least part of this answer may be provided by churches. To what extent did these new buildings of the 5th and 6th c. city take over functions that fora / agorai once had? The answer seems to be quite a lot. This new role does not seem to have been undertaken with the Church’s enthusiasm: generally ecclesiastical writers found the non-religious functions of churches to be a distraction from religious life and the primary function of their buildings. As we will see, they complained about it heartily, so providing us with plenty of evidence to use. By around AD 400, churches were becoming important social centres. Beggars112 and widows113 congregated here outside of the hours of service, attracted by charity, and by the activities that religious participation could provide. Yet the temporality of the liturgy, with its inactive periods, also gave churches a significant passive capacity for non-religious use. Some people were drawn to churches by the possibilities of meeting others socially. This is clear from the writings of Chrysostom around AD 400, for Antioch / Constantinople as it is from those of Caesarius of Arles around AD 500 and later from Procopius, to Leontius’ Life of John the Almsgiver, active in early 7th c. Alexandria.114 John the Almsgiver was 111  Physical decay of fora / agorai surviving into medieval period: see appendix S5a for Florence (discounted), plus n. 105 on the Forum of Constantine. On the removal of statues from the Basilica courtyard in the 9th to 10th c. see references collected by Mango (1959) 50. On the level of the Augusteion and the Forum of Constantine, see appendix F9 on honorific columns, under Constantine and Justinian. 112  Beggars sitting outside doors of the church: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Cor. 30.4 (PG61.254–55). During famine in Edessa, many die in ‘the courtyards of the (city) church, as also in the city squares and inns’: Josh. Styl. 43 (AD 500/501). Beggars at Rome (St. Peter’s): Amm. Marc. 27.3.6 (shortly before AD 365–66, based on PLRE 1.978–980 C. Ceionius Rufius Volusianus signo Lampadius 5). Beggars at Constantinople / Antioch, in front of churches and martyria (mentally ill, poor, blind, crippled, elderly, lame): Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Ep. 1 Thess. 11.4 (PG 62.466). See Mayer (2006) 477 for other locations. 113  Widows: stay between services, day and night, singing psalms (also begging, but distinct from beggars at doors of church): Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Cor. 30.4 (PG 61.254). 114  Private meetings at churches: Chrysostom around AD 400: Hom. in 1 Cor. 36.5 (PG 61.313); Caesarius, Sermon 55.1; Leont. N. v. Jo. Eleem 42, active in early 7th c. Alexandria.

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faced with people making private appointments to meet at his church. He also had to deal with those who left the building after the Gospel, to chat outside, a problem which also plagued Caesarius. Catechumens and others not fully initiated were supposed to leave a little later, after the prayers, just before communion service began, as in the liturgy of Apostolic Constitutions.115 For the ecclesiastics, this was problematic, as the church and its forecourt was supposed to be for religious devotions only. Yet, for Ps-Joshua Stylites and Procopius, the secular use of churches was not worthy of comment: for the latter, discussing mid-6th c. Constantinople, churches ranked alongside agorai as places where people might meet.116 It is unsurprising that churches did attract people: preachers themselves realised their buildings could be cooler than agorai, and churches were often accessible from the porticoes of monumental streets.117 Conversations took place during services, which irritated Chrysostom at Antioch / Constantinople and Caesarius at Arles, who noted that the resultant noise could be loud enough to prevent the Gospel from being heard. A liturgy from 4th c. Antioch empowers deacons to watch the congregation ‘so that that no tumult may be made, and that no one gesticulate, or whisper, or slumber’.118 According to Caesarius, the nature of meetings at churches could be very mundane, with plaintiffs approaching patrons, with quarrels that ended in clamour and accusations, alongside talk of litigation and commercial transactions. Chrysostom also notes chatter about buying and selling, and of politics and military matters, although his long list here may be a ‘catch-all’ rather than an accurate statement. Both Caesarius and Chrysostom regarded much of the conversation, especially that coming from women, as being gossip. The culprits might be unashamed of their behaviour: someone in John’s congregation retorted: ‘but it is sweet and pleasant for one to converse with one’s friends’. One might even hear laughter when the priest was offering up prayers: again, he blamed female members of the 115  Appointments to meet at church: Leont. N. v. Jo. Eleem 42. Chatting outside: Leont. N. v. Jo. Eleem 42 (after gospel), Caesarius, Sermon 55.1 (meeting to dispute), 73, 74.1–2 and Vita Caesarii 1.27 (people leaving after gospel). Fully initiated only, after litany of prayers and kiss of peace: Apostolic Constitutions 8.11. See also n. 47 below. 116   Churches as places to socialise: Edessa: Josh. Styl. 31 (AD 497/98); Constantinople: Procop. Anec. 26.11. 117  Church air light and cool: Joh. Chrys. In illud: si esurient inimicus (Homily to those who had not attended the assembly) 2 = (PG 51.175). Some members of his congregation disagreed, and found it less comfortable than outside. 118  Chatter during services: Caesarius, Sermon 50.3 (word of God cannot be heard); Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Cor. 36.5–6 (PG 61.313–14) (chatter is not allowed ‘elsewhere’; many people cannot hear what is read). Gesticulate, whisper, and slumber: Apostolic Constitutions 8.11.

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congregation, who could hide its origin within their veils. Such disruptive behaviour was nothing new: in the Didascalia apostolorum (ca. 230) deacons are told to watch out for people who sleep, laugh, whisper, or make signs during services; rather the congregation must be attentive, with watchfulness and good manners, with ears open to the Word of God.119 Straightforward social display, in the form of the ostentatious exhibitions of private wealth, might also be observed. Chrysostom disapproved of the arrival of a wealthy man in church, who provoked envy with his dress, and who was escorted by a suite of slaves acting as bodyguards. A rich lady also tried to impress other women with her clothes, her gait, and her gaze.120 He reserved particular disdain for women who wore gold ornaments and beautiful dresses: some outdid the harlots of the stage, he complained, and did it self-consciously, to be admired by men. He also warns against those who stare in church at beautiful women, or at the ‘hour’ of boys / slaves. Whilst this remark might seem to imply that visitors were lusting after choirboys, it is also possible that Chrysostom refers to the (muscular) slaves who accompanied wealthy men in public, who are often described as pueri / paides. Elsewhere, he notes how bystanders might compliment the superb physical condition of such escorts in the street. It would seem that the churches of big cities contained distractions of all kinds.121 I think it is a mistake to wish to dismiss this evidence as gender stereotyping, or as literary tropes of sin: Chrysostom was highly observant, rather irritable, and engaged in challenging his congregation. We can at least see what annoyed him, even if we cannot know if he targeted women more than men. Male chattering may well have concentrated more around the church doors, which vexed other churchmen, rather than in the main body of the church. 119  Nature of meetings at church: plaintiffs approaching patrons, and with quarrels ending in clamour and accusations: Caesarius, Sermon 55.1. Litigation and business negotiations: Caesarius, Sermon 74.3. Buying and selling, politics and military matters: Joh. Chrys. Hom in 1 Cor. 36.6 (PG 61.314). Gossip: Caesarius, Sermon 19.3, 50.3, 55.3; sweet and pleasant: Joh. Chrys. Hom in 1 Cor. 36.6 (PG 61.314). Laughter: Hom in Heb 15.4 (PG 63.122). Sleeping, laughing, whispering and making signs: Didascalia apostolorum 66. 120  Social display, of rich man and slaves: Joh. Chrys. Hom in 2 Thessal. 3.3 (PG 62.484); of rich woman trying to impress other women with her clothes, her gait, and gaze: Joh. Chrys. Hom in 2 Thessal. 3.3 (PG 62.484). 121  Sexual display, of women, with dresses and gold: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Heb. 28.6 (PG63.199). More adorned than actresses: 36.6 (PG 61.314). Many looking at beauty of women, others at boys / slaves: Hom. in Matth. 73.3 (PG 58.676–77); admiration for physique of slaves escorting a patron: Joh. Chrys. kal. 1.3 (PG 48.957); corruption of women: Joh. Chrys. Hom in 1 Cor. 36.6 (PG 61.314).

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For Chrysostom, all this behaviour constituted bringing the agora and the house into the church, an invasion of the world and its priorities into the sacred. However, the writings of Caesarius show that this was an enduring trend which reveals the centrality of the church building in the lives of his congregation. It might thus be judged a measure of the Church’s success.122 Perhaps those who came to Chrysostom’s church for a chat were sometimes the same people who interrupted his sermons with applause, or who made histrionic gestures in prayer, both of which he also disapproved of.123 The presence of gameboards within church atria is telling: people felt comfortable gambling at the very thresholds of their churches, inscribing their own games, as at Constantinople, Hierapolis, and Sagalassos, when they could easily have moved elsewhere.124 At Edessa, artisans spent the evening relaxing in the atria of their churches, as if it was the centre of their social world, in which liturgy was not a constraint to conviviality. On the outskirts of Constantinople (at Anaplus), Procopius describes how people promenaded in a court in front of a church there.125 Political activities also came to take place in churches around this time. From around AD 400, though not earlier, imperial letters on ecclesiastical matters were being read out in church, rather than in the forum or theatre. The practice is attested by Chrysostom in Antioch / Constantinople, but also in Vandal Africa in the 480s, and then later in the 6th c. to early 7th c. East.126 By 122  Bringing the house and agora into the church: Hom. in Matth. 32.7 (PG57.385); Caesarius reveals enduring trend of lay participation in mass: Hen (2004) 71–75. 123  Interrupting sermons with applause (κρότων): Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Act. 30.3–4 (PG 60.225–26). Histrionic gestures in prayer: Hom. in Matt. 19.2 (PG 57.276–77). 124  Gameboards within church atria, Constantinople, on steps of atrium of second church of Hagia Sophia (AD 415–532): L. Lavan site observation 2012. Hierapolis (of later 5th to earlier 6th c. church): L. Lavan site observation 2004; dating of church based on architectural and decorative style alone: Ciotta (2002) 191–93. Sagalassos: L. Lavan site observation 2005 (on late spolia pavement threshold of church, under which was recovered a pottery group, of the mid 5th to mid 6th c.: Internal Report 1998, p. 14; Aphrodisias: ALA 217 (with names of 4th–5th c. or later). 125  Atrium as a place of relaxation: Edessa, Atrium of the Great Church as place where tradesmen relax: Josh. Styl. 31 (AD 497/98); Constantinople (Anaplus), αὐλὴ for promenades: Procop. Aed. 1.8.10–11. 126   Reading of imperial letters, in circus at Rome, under Constantius, regarding election of pope: Theod. Hist. eccl. 2.17; in theatres: Joh. Chrys. In Matth. 1.8 (PG 57.24) (standing up, in silence), 19.9 (PG 57.285) (to ‘consuls, governors, senate and people’ who listen in standing in silence, with punishment for those who interrupt); in church: Joh. Chrys. In ep. sec. ad Thess. 3.4 (PG 62.484) (‘I have often heard letters from emperors read here’); Victor of Vita 2.2(4–5); 2.13(38–41) (royal letters); Malalas 18.142 (Justinian) an edict was published by

368 the 6th c., imperial decrees on both ecclesiastical and secular matters were also being physically posted in churches, sometimes as monumental texts. Inscribed royal / imperial decrees on ecclesiastical matters are attested outside St. Peter’s in Rome in AD 532, and at the ‘Cathedral of Mary’ at Ephesus from the later 5th to 6th c. Inscriptions on secular matters are also known for the second church in the city, St Johnʼs, at the end of the 5th c. As Feissel notes, these secular inscriptions are likely to relate to the bishop’s emerging role as head of the city’s civil administration. One of the letters is even addressed to the proconsul of Asia, suggesting that these decrees went beyond the official civil responsibilities of bishops. However, decrees were still posted in secular settings within Ephesus, in the later 6th c., making a complete ecclesiastical ‘take over’ unlikely.127 Other public announcements could also be read in churches, as when a letter was read in Edessa in AD 489/90, following an earthquake at Nicopolis, or at Antioch under Justinian, when a letter from captives taken by Lakhmid Arab raiders was read out, pleading for help with the ransom. In both cases, charity was likely sought, and in the latter case the congregation responded by putting money into the offertory boxes, in each church where it was read.128 Finally, we have a few indications that members of the congregation might affix their own notices to the door of the church. Basil of Caesarea was faced with an opponent who fixed his written accusations to the door in this way, and a governor at Ptolemais in AD 411 nailed his ordinances against ecclesiastical asylum there. Whilst each of these events had its own drivers, working against episcopal authority, the use of the door might reflect a wider habit of the clergy posting notices at this point, or of ordinary Christians pinning personal announcements, as happens at the back of some churches today, sometimes relating to secular matters. However, secular public noticeboards do the emperor in various churches about heresy; Malalas 18.78 edict sent out to churches about heresy; victory despatch of Heraclius read out in Hagia Sophia: Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 352, (AD 628, date from edn. of Whitby and Whitby (1989)). 127  Display of imperial letters, ecclesiastical subjects: the two above references from Malalas imply display (προετέθη) without saying on what medium; at Rome: Cassiod. Var. 9.15–16 is the letter of Athalaric to Pope John II (AD 532) against simony at papal elections and senatus consulta on same subject engraved on marble tablets, before the atrium of St. Peter the Apostle; at Ephesus: secular and ecclesiastical letters displayed in church: Feissel (1999) 131–32, nos. 23–24; imperial notices on portico of Nero, second half of 6th c.: Feissel (1999) 126–27, 131, nos. 15–20. 128  Reading of other letters, Edessa: Josh. Styl. 34 (AD 498/99); Antioch, under Justinian: Malalas 18.59 (seems likely as arrival of letter from hostages is followed by a collection in each church for them).

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seem to have survived away from churches at this time, in Italy and the East.129 Political acclamations on wholly secular matters were shouted out in protest in Hagia Sophia at Constantinople in the 6th and 7th c., although this behaviour is not attested elsewhere. In 562, the acclamations concerned the fate of rioters from the Green faction, whilst in 626 it was military pay. On the former occasion, it was the mothers and wives of the Greens who protested; on the latter occasion it was the palace guards. The mothers were driven out, but the palace guards were listened to: ‘The patriarch, Alexander the praetorian prefect and certain other officials, including Leontius the Comes Ospariou and Spatharius went up into the ambo’ and ‘because of the many chants that John (possibly the urban prefect) should not participate in affairs of state, that man was demoted and his images destroyed’. The emperor Maurice was once even attacked by stonethrowers in Hagia Sophia, late in his reign. None of these protests had anything to do with religion, although we do hear of protests in church under Anastasius, when a (monophysite) verse was added to the Hymn of the Trinity. On this occasion, the protesters were either killed or imprisoned.130 Conversely, emperors began to hold accession ceremonies in the churches of the capital, and imperial funerals were among the key political rituals now held within the Christian liturgy.131 Nevertheless, within Constantinople, the Great Church was never an effective counterpoint to the Hippodrome as a setting for the ruler to meet the people, and the Palace survived as the primary location of imperial ritual. The workings of a ‘Great Church’ might, however, present a challenge to 129   Other notices affixed to church door: in Caesarea in Cappadocia: Basil, Ep. 289; in Ptolemais: Syn. Ep. 42 Garzya / 58 Fitzgerald (excommunication letter). Noticeboards in other places, in Antioch (laws of Justinian are displayed ἐν τίτλοις σανίδων): Malalas 18.67 (under Justinian); in Edessa, unofficial: Josh Styl. 96 (AD 505/506); in Rome, unofficial by Totila: Procop. Goth. 3.9.21 (‘in the conspicuous places in the city’); other unofficial notices: Cod. Theod. 9.34.1 (AD 319) ‘interpretation’, derived from Breviarium of Alaric 9.24.1 (on posting of slanders); Eunap. 5 frag. 29 (Antiochenes against Jovian). 130  Political protests in church: Malalas 18.132 (AD 562); Chron. Pasch., Olympiad 351, (AD 626) (providing the quote in the main text). Maurice attacked: Theoph. Sim. Hist. 8.4.12–13 when Maurice was in church (to celebrate with the people) for Candlemas, on 2 February (AD 601 or 602), see date in Whitby and Whitby (1989) transl. p. 215 n. 119. Religious protest, against change to liturgy: Marcell. com. (AD 511/12, 512.2). 131  Imperial ceremonies in church, at Constantinople, accessions: Chron. Pasch., Olympiad 347, (AD 610), (Heraclius in the Great Church); Chron. Pasch., Olympiad 347, (AD 612) (Epiphania / Eudocia in St. Stephen’s in the Great Palace); funerals: Theoph. Sim. Hist. 8.12.3–7 (for Maurice, at which Theopylact delivered an oration).

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the powers of emperors and governors. At Alexandria, in AD 415, bishop Theophilus opposed the governor Orestes through the liturgy, in what appears to have been a political dispute: the patriarch tried to hand the Gospels to the prefect in church, perhaps to symbolise his acceptance of episcopal authority, more likely in a gesture of supplication: the prefect refused him.132 Conflicts involving emperors, in or outside of churches, can also be described, from Theodosius I onwards, though it is not appropriate to list them all here. Perhaps the most dramatic was the occasion when (if we can believe his hagiographer) Daniel the Stylite obliged the emperor Basiliscus to come to Hagia Sophia, rather than visit him in his palace. According to the Life of Daniel, the emperor was forced to publicly recant his theological position. Acclamations shouted in the church on this occasion rejected heresy, but their language was political in style: an unpopular magister officiorum is to be sent to the stadium and the enemies of orthodoxy are to be burnt alive.133 This may be part of a trend: whilst later 4th and early 5th c. clashes seem usually to reflect the Church’s encroachment into politics, later 5th and 6th c. incidents seem to relate to the encroachment of politics into the Church. The holding of imperial marriages and funerals in churches represented part of the same development. As we have seen, there is some suggestion that the 6th c. meetings of notables, who replaced city councils in the East around AD 500, no longer met in bouleuteria, which were falling into disuse, but rather in the episcopal palace, which began, in the West at least, to be places where basic schools could be found, civic and private teachers having largely ceased to function by the 6th c.134 In the East, churches began to hold important archives of property deeds, as those of cities disappeared, although they persisted in the West.135 Episcopal 132  Political conflicts in church, Theophilus and Orestes: Socrates Hist. eccl. 7.13 (PG 67.765). 133  Emperor confronted in church, Basiliscus: Life of Daniel the Stylite 83 (edn. Delehaye (1923) p. 77–79). 134  Meetings of notables in the episcopal palace: see n. 68 of fora / agorai 4th–5th c. chapter. Schools associated with monasteries and bishops in the West, that previously were held in city hall or forum / agora: Liebeschuetz (2001) 319–20 for starting points, drawing especially on Leclercq (1921) 1824–31 (monasteries) 1831–37 (bishops), with references to schools in agorai in chapter on fora / agorai in the 4th–5th c. 135  Civic archives: Jones (1940) 239; disappearance of city archives: Saradi-Mendelovici (1988). Key evidence: Cod. Iust. 1.56.2 (defensors to make records) (AD 366, but included in Justinian’s Code), Just. Nov. 15 praef. (archives of defensor disappearing), 15.3 (defensors to hold archives of gifts and wills) (AD 535); Cod. Iust. 1.3.40 (AD 525) (defensors of churches making record of wills, of which Justinian disapproves); 1.4.30 (AD 531) (guardians to be recorded in archives of churches). Liebeschuetz (2001) 122 points out that known Late Roman

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legal hearings might be held in front of churches, as at ?Hermoupolis in the 4th c. and at Alexandria in the early 7th c.; we even find one pious governor apparently copying this practice at Edessa in the 490s.136 Sanctuary in churches became available from the late 4th c., when it had been previously available chiefly in the temples and at imperial statues in the forum. Thus, senior political figures cowered in the churches at Constantinople, on falling from favour, with some being murdered when they crept outside. Equally, ordinary people might seek refuge in churches and prostrate themselves before altars during earthquakes, imitating the behaviour of suppliants, as happened in both Edessa and the capital.137 Tradesmen might use the sacrality of the same altars to cement business dealings, by swearing oaths whilst touching the Holy Table, an abuse that Chrysostom strongly criticised. Some in his congregation were unimpressed, retorting that without such oaths ‘he refuses to trust me’, and that bishops were obviously going to be believed.138 Prayers were now said for the emperor every Sunday in church, taking over the function of ceremonies once enacted before imperial statues.139 Major

archives, surviving out of Egypt, come from churches: at Nessana and Petra. On the latter see Fiema (2007). 136  Episcopal legal hearings in front of churches, ?Hermoupolis (4th c., in the atrium of a church): Elm (1989) on P. Lips 43; Alexandria (early 7th c.): Leont. N. v. Jo. Eleem 5 (a special court for those fearing his officials) (‘Every Wednesday and Friday he had a seat and two stools placed in the open in front of the church and there he sat in company with a few virtuous men, or with the gospel in his hands and allowed no member of his great retinue to approach him except one disciplinary official …’ transl. Baynes; imitation by governor at Edessa in the 490s: Josh. Styl. 29 (‘He used to sit regularly every Friday in the church of S. John the Baptist and S. Addai the Apostle, and to settle legal causes without any expense’.) transl. Wright. On episcopal courts in churches start with Rapp (2005) 242–52, who also covers manumission of slaves in church 239–42. 137  Sanctuary in churches: Cod. Theod. 9. 45.4 in AD 431, with comprehensive study of Caseau (2003); at imperial statues: Cod. Theod. 9.44.1 (AD 386) = Cod. Iust. 1.25; Joh. Chrys. Huit catéchèses baptismales inédites 3.14; Greg. Naz. Ep.140.4 (PG 37.237–39); in churches: Cod. Theod. 9.45 (AD 392–432); Sirm. 13 Ravenna (AD 419) protecting up to a perimeter of 50ft around the church. Political refugees at Constantinople, e.g. Eutropius: Joh. Chrys, in Eutrop. 1–2 (PG 52.391–96, PG 52.296– 414); Basiliscus, after Zeno defeat: Malalas 15.5; Eugenius under Justinian: Malalas 18.131 (taken from text of Theophanes A.M. 6053 (AD 560/61); Germanus in last days of Maurice: Theoph. Sim. Hist. 8.9.2. Even in Vandal Africa: Victor of Vita 2.15. As place of refuge and supplication in earthquake, Constantinople: Agath. 5.5 (earthquake of AD 557, see discussion in Cameron (1970) 142); Edessa: Josh. Styl. 35 (AD 498/99). 138  Tradesmen’s oaths on the altar: Hom. in Act. 9.6 (PG 60.83–84). 139   Prayers for emperor in church: onwards from Tertullian, Apologeticus 30; well-established in 4th c.: Ewig (1976).

370 churches also contained the remains of a city’s heroic dead,140 as had the heroa of Greek agorai.141 Ecclesiastical buildings did, however, have some disadvantages as meeting places. The rules of the Church, sometimes backed by law, sought to constrain comportment by spatially organising those present, at least within the liturgy. This is clear from a range of texts from both East and West, although we should not imagine that practices were entirely uniform. Men and women were segregated, sometimes by screens, whilst mothers and children, and young people, could be placed in separate areas. The triple entrances of some churches facilitated such zoning. This was of course not particular to churches: comparable arrangements existed in synagogues, but it is beyond the scope of this work to trace them here.142 Compartments might be policed for order and good behaviour by deacons, who tried to enforce silence when the occasion demanded it.143 Women were eventually separated into a gallery in some eastern churches, by the 6th c., or allocated parts of the gallery.144 Some people were excluded from entering church, with penitent sinners allowed varying degrees of access to different parts of the building (to the outer doors, to the narthex, just inside the church door), depending on the state of their penance. References to penitents are 3rd–4th c. in date, rather than 5th–6th c., suggesting the practice was not

140  Churches have heroic dead: see studies listed in Gwynn (2010) 112. 141  Heroa on agorai: Ajax at Salamis: Paus. 1.35.3; Orestes at Sparta: 3.11.10; Aratus at Sicyon: 2.9.6 (near bouleuterion which should be in the agora). 142  Separation of men and women: Apostolic Constitutions 2.57 with separate areas and doors for men, for women, and for the youngest (sitting or standing if no room), with young women, women with children, and older women / widows / [consecrated] virgines. The latter group were at the front, and young women went at the back if they did not have their own area; Joh. Chrys. Hom in Mt. 73.3 (PG58.677) with screens (τειχία = walls) separating men and women; Ordo Romanus I (7th c.) (not seen); Didascalia apostolorum 65–66 (ca. AD 230) has clergy sat on the East, men and women separated, then women with young children sat near the door, and young people sat apart: ref from Caseau (2007) 561; Nicetas of Remesiana, Libellus ad virginem lapsam (Ps. Ambrose de lapsu virginis consecratae) 1.6.24 has virgins in their own enclosure defined by planks (tabulis). 143  Deacons police zones and noise: Didascalia apostolorum 66; Apostolic Constitutions 8.11; Joh. Chrys. In ep. sec. ad Thess. 3.4 (PG 62.484) 144  Sexual segregation in galleries: at Constantinople, where there are separate colonnades within the gallery for men and women: Procop. Aed. 1.1.57–58; at Gaza, women in the gallery of church built by bishop Marcian, ca. 535–48: Choricius Or. 2.47; at Constantinople, different days for veneration of relics: Chron. Pasch., Olympiad 347, (A.D. 614).

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as frequent in later centuries.145 Listeners, heretics, and catechumens could be present but were sent out of the building, with a blessing when the liturgy turned towards the communion.146 How often these exclusions were enforced is difficult to say: the Apostolic Constitutions envisage very active deacons but self-censure was as likely. These are particularly difficult practices for us to understand: why would heretics want to attend church if they were going to be put out? But this was a society organised around hierarchy and rank, in which membership of a group or grade seems to have encouraged rule-bound participation. People may have cared less about being ‘included’ as equals than we do. The presence of benches, well-attested in eastern churches, and implied by liturgical texts, is known to have facilitated small-scale meetings, such as one-to-one encounters.147 But with widows singing psalms between services, and

145  Penitents sat apart: Jer. Ep. 77.4 (with dishevelled hair, pale face, dirty hands, dusty neck (sordida colla)). See Selhorst (1931), Mathews (1971) 130–34 and comments in Cantino Wataghin (2006) 292–93, from whom, with Caseau, references derive. 146  Some excluded from entering church at door: Anatolia, 3rd c., sinners allowed varying degrees of access: Greg. Thaum. ep. can. 11 (PG 10.1048); Braniste (1977) 122 n. 88 (not seen); Jerusalem, catechumens cannot enter Anastasis within Holy Sepulchre complex (Sunday liturgy), only the faithful, bishop, and monks, late 4th c: Egeria 25.2; deacons at door prevent people entering during liturgy of the Eucharist: Apostolic Constitutions 8.11, with deacons at doors for men and deaconesses at doors for women Apostolic Constitutions 2.57; heretics given their allotted place: Didascalia apostolorum 66; listeners (i.e. pagans who are not yet catechumens), heretics, and catechumens put out before communion: Apostolic Constitutions 8.6, 8.12 (this part is a 4th c. text); Joh. Chrys. Hom in Matt. 4.7 (PG 57.48). Braniste (1982) 94, identifies this moment, from various sources, as after the sermon, but before the litanies are read, noting that the penitents and catechumens leave after the readings and prior to prayers in Apostolic Constitutions 2.57, with the blessing of the bishop for each group in 8.6f. Women with shorn heads (probably penitents) not to enter church: Cod. Theod. 16.2.27 (Milan AD 390). 147  Standing in church: Gregory of Tours, de virtutibus sancti martini episcopi (MGH Scriptores rerum Merovingicarum vol. 1.2 pp. 134–211) 2.30; Caesarius, Sermon 19.3, 78.1 (sick allowed to sit). Sitting in church, rich woman and man: Joh. Chrys. Hom in 2 Thessal. 3.3 (PG 62.484); at least part of congregation: Hom in Heb 15.4 (PG 63.122); people sitting listening to homilies for enjoyment (as if listening to tragic actors, cithara players, or rhetors): De sac. 5.1. Seats were frequent in eastern churches though it seems that there were not enough to sit a full congregation: Caseau (2007) 560–62. The Apostolic Constitutions 2.57 envisages that almost all of the congregation could expect to sit, including many children. Seats facilitate private meetings: Joh. Moschus 201 (PG 87.3.3089) (holy man meets a notable by chance who comes into a Constantinopolitan church and sits down beside him, and a discussion of spiritual matters begins).

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lesser clergy tidying the church, it was never going to be easy to hold large meetings here. Some bishops sought to break up what social activity there was: at Arles, Caesarius introduced hymn-singing to counter chatter during the liturgy and closed the doors after the Gospel to stop people escaping from the homily. At Alexandria, at the same moment in the service, John the Almsgiver even came out of his church to bring back those who had gone out to talk.148 Furthermore, the presence of sick or very poor people, the incense, the holy depictions and architecture focused on religion, made the atmosphere of churches very different to that of agorai. Most churches were far too small to take in an audience that might fit in a theatre or public square. Only great martyrial basilicas were really equipped for large crowds, attracted by festivals. Thus, on an everyday level, it is hard to see churches as fully taking over from fora / agorai in fulfilling the same public functions. There were many noisy or dynamic activities that were once found in the agora, such as ball games and public feasts, which could not take place here. Church atria did provide a more open, less formal space, but such forecourts are far from universal in the empire. They tended to be very simple, without annexed spaces which might have taken on non-religious functions. Rather, one should note a substantial overlap between the flowering of church construction and the persistence of the agora in the East and seek elsewhere for causes of any supposed decline of the public plazas. Conclusions Summary The evidence of the survival of agorai in the East is clearly incontrovertible. As many agorai were being built anew in the 6th c. as were being built anew in the 4th c. There was no ‘end’ as envisaged by scholars to date. This is a position I have revised during the course of writing this book, as I long supported the eclipse of the agora in the 6th c. But I cannot do so any longer: the evidence of Thessalonica, Constantinople, Laodicea, Bostra, and Abu Mina is obviously pointing away from this. Agorai continued to be maintained, but in not as many cities as earlier: now in provincial capitals and larger cities: so Philippi, Ephesus, Antioch, and Scythopolis all saw extensive rebuilding, whist Smyrna, Sagalassos, Xanthos, and Gaza saw smaller scale interventions. In the West, after broad-based investment in fora during the 3rd to early 5th c., there were in the 6th c. far fewer places with 148  Bishops against social activity: Life of Caesarius of Arles 1.19, 1.27; Life of John the Almsgiver 42.

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functioning civic plazas. But when all sources are combined, the evidence for repair is still strong around the coast of the Western Mediterranean, with a complete rebuilding anew at Carthage, major refurbishments at Terracina, and levelling at Rome and Ilici. When combined with textual references to fora in Italian cities, we are forced to admit that some places really still did have a recognisable classical public square at the heart of their urban fabric in the 6th c. and even 7th c. AD. The behavioural evidence of the use of fora / agorai in the period is somewhat slighter than that for architectural repair, and is not as rich as for the 4th c. Yet it does attest to a 6th c. chapter in the traditional role of these plazas in eastern cities, as both social centres and as commercial foci. In consequence, it seems likely that Procopius was not a fantasist but simply being conservative when he described his hopes for Caput Vada, the Justinianic new town established at the site of the reconquest army’s landfall in Africa. In the 6th c. East, people really did ‘pass their days in the market-place’ and, if law courts and spontaneous public meetings qualify, they also held ‘assemblies on questions which concern(ed) them’. Whilst Caput Vada probably never saw anything more than a modest round plaza as its agora, the language used to describe the new city might not actually be dishonest. Rather, it could just be overblown, reflecting an East Mediterranean urban model, for which this city, like Justiniana Prima, was a modest advert.149 Seen from the Forum of Constantine, which Procopius, like Belisarius, probably visited daily, such hopes were not unrealistic. This plaza, above all others, had a wide range of functions which a Greek of the 5th c. BC might have recognised as typical of agorai. As a large open plaza, full of statues, surrounded by porticoes, with a bouleuterion / Senate / in the form of a temple, this square was a reference point in a continuous tradition, which still survived in the capital of the Eastern Roman Empire during the 6th c. AD and beyond. Limitations The aspects of life covered in this study of agorai seem vast. Unlike the section on processions, in these two chapters its has been possible to produce insights into the perspectives of children, widows, beggars and so on, even if these insights are rarely if ever in their own voices. The limitations which are worth debating are those encountered in our source material, which outside of Constantinople and Antioch is so scattered and so different to superficial impressions from archaeology 149  Agora as part of Caput Vada: Procop. Aed. 6.6.16; Justiniana Prima and other new cities of Justinian as adverts (‘on the cultural forefront’) for ‘Byzantine’ urbanism: Zanini (2003) 216.

372 that this study might well fail to convince other scholars. Literary and epigraphic evidence for the 6th c. use of fora / agorai is largely eastern, with the exception of a few cities of the West Mediterranean. This does map well with the architectural survival of agorai in parts of the southern Balkans, in Asia Minor, and the Levant (where there were always fewer agorai). However, the absence of any mention of everyday activities from ordinary cities of Italy, where civic plazas do survive, is of greater concern, although this was even a problem in the 4th c., perhaps due to the nature of the literary sources. We do have enough evidence, at least, to resist earlier scholarly impulses to dismiss the survival of the forum / agora as a literary anachronism. The archaeology requires a subtle reading, that is all. We also need to remember what we simply cannot see from material remains: social life is not as fertile in artefactual terms as is production, domesticity, or religion. New techniques of field archaeology are only slowly finding surface traces and dating graffiti and pavement markings. We will only be able to improve matters through interdisciplinary efforts in which epigraphy and archaeology work as one. Distinctive Features? In looking across the whole late antique period, from the late 3rd to mid 7th c., certain features of fora / agorai emerge that one might consider chronologically distinct. This is most obvious for the 6th c., where a fourporticoed agora with central honorific column seems to emerge: civic and pagan religious buildings are now nowhere to be seen. The same model is, of course, apparent earlier in Late Antiquity, in new plazas of the 4th c., which at Constantinople seem to model themselves, at least in part on, the imperial fora of Rome, in which a temple or civic basilica might feature, but in which the architectural unit of porticoes surrounding a plaza was the most significant. This desire for a simplified form can be seen also in the round plaza, encircling a central monument. In functional terms, temples became increasingly rare, sometimes preserved, occasionally maintained. But Christian religious practice did not assert itself in its place: a strongly Christian civic square never really emerged within this period. Commerce undoubtedly gained greater prominence in the 3rd to 5th c., a time when city councils still existed, as the record of new shops in fora / agorai shows in the next chapter. Nonetheless, it did not take over from other functions. New shops rather filled in gaps as often as they actively replaced buildings. Their numbers were small. This was a subtle change. Distinctiveness in behaviour can be seen in the eclipse of institutional politics from public plazas after

chapter 5

the mid-5th c. This was not true in imperial and provincial capitals, although even here its form changed. Within ordinary cities, one suspects a number of political meeting were lost to churches and episcopia, whilst the main plaza of a city remained a place for honouring the emperor. In social terms, the civic plaza remained a key hub as it had always been. A key function perhaps gained in prominence as other functions retreated. Everyday meetings of friends seem to have been more important in 6th c. agorai than ritualised social or political interaction. It was not now a place to vote, nor to watch a patron and his suite of slaves whirl around the paving, except perhaps in the capital. The decoration of the squares, with their repaired statues and sundials, would now seem to have aimed at providing for the amenity of a sociable citizen rather than serving the administrative or informal realities of civic power, even if it did sometimes serve as a museum of civic values past. Minor displays of munificence by local notables can be seen in the agorai of Asia Minor but these seem to be subservient to social rather than political aims: the modesty and intimacy of these dedications suggest the working of face-to-face local patronage, even friendship, alongside or instead of local patriotism. It is difficult to see here the workings of political ambition, comparable to the Early Imperial period. Only at Aphrodisias does this seem to be present, in the acclamations for Albinus. Yet, even here, it is difficult to imagine Albinus really would have gained admission into the Constantinopolitan senate by donating (or most likely repairing) a portico in his hometown. His actions seem more to represent an act set in a cultural tradition of civic benefaction, perhaps for which his family was known, and which he could still read about on the walls of his home city.150 Causes of Continuity and Change? What factors played the biggest role in retaining and reshaping the forum / agora? Commercial activity, in the building and maintaining of shops, was certainly still prominent in 6th c. plazas. Nevertheless, there were not very many new shops and there is no case of shops being built to abolish squares; this is even true for tetragonal agorai—purpose-built commercial plazas. Here, existing shops were maintained rather than built over the open plaza space. Any slight move towards shops seems to have been underway before city councils ceased to administer cities in the mid-5th c. More significant, 150  Albinus: see Roueché (1984) 190–99, plus ALA 82, which implies more than one building operation. Roueché notes the fine architecture of the portico, in comparison to other late porticoes. This could indicate an Early Imperial build, and that only slight repairs were in fact carried out.

Fora and Agorai during the Sixth Century AD and Beyond

perhaps, was the continued role of fora / agorai as open markets, as ramps for livestock access make clear in the Aegean. Changes in political life undoubtedly played a role in turning fora / agorai away from related buildings. Furthermore, the decline of pagan religious practice and the closure of forum temple was doubtless a significant process, in freeing up space. Public squares continued after the loss of major temples, as examples from Rome, Sabratha, and Ephesus demonstrate. Overbuilding of civic plazas by churches might seem like an ideological statement, yet such developments often occurred on secondary agorai, rather than in the main plazas, suggesting that they had been sold off / given away by city authorities, who were otherwise committed to

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maintaining public space. The persistence of social life needs little explanation. The agora was simply very well designed to host it, whereas the church by its very nature found it hard to accommodate free social assemblies. Atria were small and relatively poorly equipped in relation to existing agorai, and many church leaders will not have appreciated their forecourts being turned into markets and meeting places when liturgies had to be held inside. There were undoubtedly things that an atrium could not do, which the ancient city still needed. The value of the agora as a pleasant social setting, where one made contact with members of all classes, seems to have played the greatest role in retaining it until the end of the period.

chapter 6

Markets and Shops Commercial Pressure and the End of the Classical City The role of commerce in the late antique city was unwittingly brought to prominence by the publication of J. Sauvaget’s study of Laodicea in 1934.1 In this work, Sauvaget proposed a model of urban evolution in which the colonnaded street was gradually obliterated by buildings constructed over the roadway. He did not explicitly blame commerce, but his famous plan of the process depicted the encroachment of the portico by masonry shops, with the remaining empty space gradually turned to the advantage of their owners, until a narrow souk was produced. Sauvaget believed that this process happened during the Early Islamic period. In 1985, H. Kennedy built on these ideas, arguing that the commercially vibrant madina emerged at the expense of the politico-aesthetic classical polis. Yet, he suggested, on the basis of three archaeological sites with evidence of encroachment, that this development had its origins in the late antique period, and was driven by the needs of commerce.2 Others, such as É. Patlagean and C. Roueché, lent weight to this interpretation by pointing to the increasing number of cellular shops built in city centres during Late Antiquity.3 Later, B. Ward-Perkins challenged Kennedy’s chronology of change, noting the building of well-ordered colonnaded avenues with shops, in both the late antique and Umayyad periods. M.M. Mango also suggested, on the basis of the Book of the Prefect, that such facilities survived until the 9th c. at Constantinople.4 But T. Potter and H. Saradi restated the position of Kennedy, and linked late legal and rhetorical texts describing commercial use of porticoes to the disappearance of the classical street.5 With such divergent views, there is clearly a need to reconsider how sources for this question are being used.

1  Obliteration of roadway: Sauvaget (1934) 81–114. 2  Commercial encroachment: Kennedy (1985) 3–27; on street encroachment beginning in Late Antiquity, see 11–13. 3  More shops in city centres: Patlagean (1977) 59–61, 233ff.; Claude (1969) 52ff.; Roueché (2004) no. 230. 4  Well-organised commerce: Ward-Perkins (1995) 143–53; Mango (M.M.) (2000b) 203–204. 5  Legal texts on disappearance of street: Potter (1995) 85–90; Saradi (2006) 187–88.

The Sources As my first chapter demonstrated, the architectural development of streets in Late Antiquity and under Early Islam is more complex than either Sauvaget or Kennedy anticipated. Rather, there are a number of different processes taking place, which scholars have conflated into a single narrative of urban decay. Certainly, there is evidence for the privatisation of duplicate or redundant civic public buildings. Furthermore, in some cities, minor roads came to be blocked off and neglected. However, as we have seen, this development was often counterbalanced by work on the main avenues, which were increasingly monumentalised, a process which can be seen at sites as diverse as Ostia and Sagalassos.6 There is little evidence that commerce contributed to either of these developments in the way that Kennedy envisaged. Rather, archaeology reveals examples of ordered markets of wooden stalls with topos inscriptions, even for the 6th c.; of ordered subdivisions of porticoes into shops; and of planned rows of new shops built as unified, even aesthetically pleasing parades. Finally, there are several examples of market buildings still being repaired and kept in use. In most cities of the East, there is evidence for a high degree of spatial order in the main public areas of the city. Public property was generally respected, private land boundaries continued unchanged, and the overall classical aesthetic of middle to large eastern cities was generally maintained, with great avenues, fountains, and public plazas, as long as prosperity remained.7 New impressions are also starting to emerge from a fresh study of the legal sources: C. Saliou has argued in a recent article that our understandings of late Roman laws on ‘encroachment’ are too simplistic, and that a more ordered attempt to commercialise porticoes and to regulate their retail potential can be detected within Late Antiquity. She sees not individual initiative but rather collective activity, regulated and encouraged by imperial and civic government.8 Before Saliou’s intervention, Helen Saradi had highlighted the activity of patrons in developing porticoes of colonnaded streets for 6  Monumental avenues: on Ostia, see Gering (2004) 299–382; on Sagalassos: Lavan (2008) 201–14. 7  Contribution of archaeology, previous overviews: Lavan (2006a); Lavan (2007b) 134–35; Lavan (2008). 8  New perspectives: Saliou (2005) 207–24.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004423824_008

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profit. Yet in 2006 she believed that this represented not commercial dynamism but a “chaotic situation … the dissolution of civic public space”.9 She identified that there was little dated archaeological evidence for portico encroachment before the later 6th c., but preferred to privilege the legal evidence, stating that “the dissolution of civic urban space … began in the fourth century” (p. 291), and that “archaeological excavations illustrate the phenomenon mentioned in the literary sources. The space between the columns of the porticoes was gradually walled up; walls projecting from the back divided the porticoes into separate compartments, while other structures encroached on the street” (p. 272).10 No serious attempt was made by Saradi to unravel the different sources, to assess if they were representative. Confusing images thus grow in one’s mind, in which commerce leads to change, but of a negative kind, as if private initiative was only capable of dragging a city down, whereas only political control could raise it up. In this chapter, I will take a different approach, focusing not on the legal texts but on archaeological, epigraphic, and literary evidence for organised retail activity in central and eastern Mediterranean cities. This tells its own independent story of the organisation of urban commerce in late antique cities. It seems that impressions gained from the Theodosian Code can be substantially modified, and perhaps even be contradicted, by considering other sources for the period, on their own terms. It is worth stressing at the outset that what is being questioned is the interpretation of legal evidence, not its inherent value. Admittedly, legal texts provide some specific instances of emperors or governors clearing away unauthorised constructions, and these should be taken seriously. At Constantinople in 398, private buildings were removed from around the horrea publica, and in 409 they were removed from the Great Palace.11 But are these measures really indicative of chaotic 9  Patrons and porticoes: Saradi (1998) 17–43. Chaos and dissolution: Saradi (2006) 285, 291. 10  Saradi (2006) 272 implies that the lack of excavated evidence is a result of poor technique. There is some basis for this claim in the case of early-excavated sites such as Apamea and Gerasa, which were crudely cleared. However, this is to underestimate the visibility of late antique subdivision walls, which were normally built in mortared stone rather than, as later, in un-mortared rubble. The former have been detected by Mediterranean archaeology since the 1960s at the latest. On well-dug sites, such as Aizanoi, Xanthos, Caesarea Palestinae, Sepphoris, and Scythopolis, late antique encroachment on the main monumental avenues is generally absent, until the last years of the 6th or beginning of the 7th c. 11  Clearing encroachment at Constantinople: Cod. Theod. 15.1.38; Cod. Theod. 15.1.47 = Cod. Iust. 8.11.17. In AD 406, a general law for all public buildings in the city was issued (Cod. Theod. 15.1.46; Cod. Iust. 8.10.9).

encroachment and dissolution of the central areas of eastern cities? If they are, can they be taken as representative? It is worth remembering that Cato the Elder was praised for demolishing houses that encroached on public ground and against public buildings in the early 2nd c. BC, and that Domitian sought to restrict the display of goods by shop owners within porticoes.12 Such initiatives do not indicate this dissolution of urban space by commercial and other interests but rather reflect attempts to regulate it: in the 6th c. as much as in the Late Republic or Early Empire. Indeed, until someone excavates traces of stalls or shops blocking a major commercial artery in a prosperous eastern city that are dated to Late Antiquity (and those at Palmyra are not13), there seems to be no basis for asserting that unregulated commerce was responsible for the decline of the classical street in the East. Rather, evidence for retail suggests a more positive situation, whereby commerce continued to support the fabric and function of city life. Regulated Stalls Structural Evidence Tim Potter’s discovery of market stalls on the forum of Iol Caesarea (Cherchel) sparked considerable interest. These structures were small (3–4 by 2–3 m), irregular rectangles, marked by slits cut into the paving in front of a portico. Large numbers of small 4th c. bronze coins from retail transactions were found in the paving cracks beneath, providing a likely use date of the 4th to 5th c.14 Potter was able to suggest parallels at two other sites, Paestum and Philippi, though neither had features as clear as the indentations discovered at his own site. Pavement markings at the latter site almost certainly represent the emplacements for statue bases. Nevertheless, Potter was quick to point out that market stalls (tables) had been depicted on a fresco of a forum from Pompeii.15 Probably, such stalls had been common throughout Antiquity, but only now were actually 12  Cato the Elder and encroachment: Livy, Epit. 39.44; Plut. Vit. Cat. Mai. 19. Domitian: Mart. Epigrams 7.61. 13  Palmyra: the shops built over the street are dated to the Umayyad period, based on Umayyad pottery and coins found beneath the floors of the shops: al-Asʿad and Stepniowski (1989) 210–11, 220. 14  Stalls at Iol Caesarea (Cherchel): Potter (1995) 36–39. 15  Stalls at Paestum: Greco and Theodorescu (1980) 11 (numerous blocks of travertine with central holes in north and south porticoes of forum, for wooden posts); Philippi: observed by Potter (1995) 75, 77 (traces on pavement by east portico, not specified, seem to be cuttings for statue base emplacements, from my observations 2003 and Sève and Weber (2012) fig. 67); Pompeii, Insula of Julia Felix: Ling (1991) 163–64.

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6th c. Basin 6th c. Stairs

Tychaion

Honorific monument Honorific monument

Upper Agora Sagalassos Early Imperial Late Antique Final Antique

0

20m

Market Stalls

figure g1 Possible market stalls at Sagalassos, Upper Agora

permitted to break the surface of the paving with holes and channels. The stalls at Iol Caesarea were small-scale market structures comparable to those of earlier periods, though they were semi-permanent huts rather than tables. However, these stalls were confined to the plaza edge by the portico, and permanent stone squats were not allowed to develop on the forum, even in the 4th and 5th c., as they were in later periods. A similar but more regular set of late market stalls comes from Sagalassos, in south-west Turkey.16 Here, excavations have uncovered substantial areas of public space, including a colonnaded street and two public squares, which show ample evidence of organised urban retail in Late Antiquity. This was not immediately apparent to the excavators, who on uncovering the Upper Agora, in the early 1990s, concentrated on the architecture and honorific monuments. The site was then covered in sand and turned into a stone depot and conservation area. However, during a postdoctoral fellowship at the KULeuven, I was able to reexamine the area, using detailed drawings taken by the excavation supervisor, P. Cosyns. I identified a number of postholes and topos inscriptions that had not been 16  Stalls at Sagalassos: see Lavan (2013a) 328–333 and Sagalassos Internal Report (2006) part II, 29–34.

considered important at the time and had been accidentally eliminated from later ‘neat’ drawings undertaken by architects (fig. G1). My re-cleaning and survey in 2006 confirmed the postholes and made it possible to record three of the stalls, with their topos inscriptions (fig. G2). The postholes were cut right through the paving of the agora. These holes, of between 15 and 30 cm across, belonged to square structures, measuring approximately 3 m by 3 m. They were generally four-posters, although two stalls had 6 posts, while still being square. The absence of any trace of stone remains strongly suggests that the stalls were entirely wooden. If no stone survives today, there probably never was any then, given that the structures appear to have belonged to the final phase of occupation, and the Upper Agora has seen very little robbing of stone since Antiquity. However, the holes are substantial: not post pipes but postholes, designed to support deep-set timbers, with the putative aid of stone and earth packing. Thus, this was no ephemeral effort: either wooden stalls were allowed to stand semipermanently, or the holes supported posts (to hold a canopy) that were slotted into permanent casings within the paving on market day. The postholes are likely to represent market stalls in a regulated market, rather than post-antique huts, as the structures appear to have been almost identical: regular

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figure g2 Possible market stalls at Sagalassos, detail; Sagalassos, Upper Agora cleaning, 2006 (after P. Cosyns)

in alignment, design, and size. Given their coherence, they probably reflect a single regulatory regime across the marketplace, and thus are probably of the same date. They are likely to date from Late Antiquity, most probably the 6th c.: in several places they cut through the foundations of a number of honorific monuments, which had been removed from the plaza, probably at the time of the construction of the North-East Building’s northern wall (late 5th to early 6th c.), which included several honorific monuments.17 Further, the line of three stalls revealed by the 2006 cleaning seems to leave a space for access to the 6th c. staircase, which led down into the agora from the Bouleuterion Church on the western side; additionally, one of the stalls seems to respect the position of a basin of 6th c. date (and so should postdate it). The letter forms of one of the two topos inscriptions accompanying these stalls are typical of the 4th to 7th c. (a round cursive μ, whose use is normally dated to the 4th c. and generally after this). This all suggests that the stalls are late antique in date, most probably 4th–7th c. Topos Inscriptions At least four topos inscriptions can be seen on the Upper Agora of Sagalassos. An ʻalpha setʼ of two are chiselled to be read at a right angle to the western portico. Both are set within the same line of slabs and underscored with a non-epigraphic diagonal ‘signature line’. They are closely associated with two of the wooden stalls. The inscriptions seem to be personal names, perhaps of the tradesmen who were allowed to work here.18 Judging from the letter forms (the cursive μ), the first dates to the 4th to 17  Sagalassos, North-East Building’s northern wall (late 5th to early 6th c.): see Lavan (2008) 205–206. 18  The first ʻnameʼ reads μακεδυρα or perhaps μακεδυια / μακεαυρα / μακεδνια and the 2nd ʻnameʼ Ζα..ες.

7th c. The second is much more difficult to date, but its signature line, alignment, and setting, on the same row of slabs, suggests that it belongs with the previous inscription.19 A ʻbeta setʼ of two topos inscriptions were set on a different orientation, aligned with the portico. One of these inscriptions is chiselled into the paving and may relate to the trade of the shops in the adjacent portico rather than to the stalls on the plaza. It reads τόπος χαλκο|τύπων (the place of the bronzesmiths). The other ‘beta’ inscription, scratched onto a column pedestal in the adjacent portico, is preceded by a cross and reads +τόπος Δ. ẠΠΗ[vac. | -- Μ. Ω. Ν. This is too fragmentary to read, although an upholsterer (*δαπηδιμα) is among the options which have been tentatively suggested. This should date to the 5th to 6th c. based on the cross and should predate the late basin of the 6th c. which covered the paving in this area.20 The significance of the stalls and topos inscriptions is that they appear to reveal a regulated market of the 6th c. AD. The topos inscriptions, which are aligned perpendicular to the portico, are clearly associated with stalls, though they bear only personal names. The topos inscriptions aligned parallel to the portico do not appear to belong to a particular stall, and they specify (artisanal) trades. Probably, we are dealing here with a division between what was sold on the plaza and goods set out on the paving outside of artisanal workshops. Apparently, there were two systems of organisation, only one of which relates to the stalls on the plaza. In this case, there seems to be something of a match between the last function of the shops in the portico behind each 19  A further possible topos inscription that includes a round cursive μ—ΔΙΟμ (Diomedes?), aligned with the portico—occurs on the paving next to one of the stalls toward the north centre of the plaza. 20  I am grateful to C. Saliou and D. Feissel for offering readings of these difficult inscriptions.

378 topos inscription, as recorded by archaeology: a metal workshop and a possible fullonica, with a basin fed by tubing, from the late 6th / early 7th c.21 Yet the evidence is not quite so simple: as noted above, this topos inscription and basin appear to belong to two different phases, so one should be wary of seeing this as a definite match. Rather, it is safer just to note active regulation of stalls within the Upper Agora during Late Antiquity, some if not all of which dates from the late 6th or early 7th c. Elsewhere in Turkey, a handful of sites provide us with comparable topos inscriptions, although without stalls in association with them. Only at Laodicea ad Lycum has a candidate been proposed. Here, a topos inscription for dyers has been associated with square pavement markings, believed to represent markings for a stall. The setting is convincing, set on Syria Street by the East Gate, apparently not part of a wider group. But the stall markings have not been published in full and seem to represent chiselled patches rather than holes for canopies. Without associated holes, topos inscriptions can be interpreted as place markers, without any commercial function, for people of different status, as in theatres (at Bostra, for example).22 Yet, in streets and squares, and especially when set directly in front of shops, they do seem likely to have a commercial function. At Aphrodisias, the finest set occurs on columns outside shops which were set within the Hall of the Theatre Baths, to serve the 4th c. Tetrastoon square: here we see two well-cut inscriptions defining the ‘place of Alexander, barber,’ and his colleague Zeno, in the same profession (both preceded by a cross), as well as three other individuals. In the adjacent plaza, there were no cellular shops at all; nonetheless, two topos inscriptions can be seen on columns for the ‘men of Hierapolis’.23 Nothing can confirm 21  A metal workshop and a possible fullonica were found in this area. A basin and tubing were set in this area in the final phase, late 6th / early 7th c.: for all these: see Lavan (2013a) 293 n.6. 22  Bostra theatre topos inscriptions: IGLSyr 13.1, nos. 9156–63. I do not yet see topos inscriptions found outside of theatres as relating to ceremonies. The only convincing epigraphic trace of ceremonies in public space come from: (i) the main street of Perge, where a series of acclamations honouring Tacitus are known; (ii) from the west portico of the agora at Aphrodisias, where acclamations honour Albinus; (iii) from the Marble Street in Ephesus, with its groups of acclamations for the factions and for Phocas and Heraclius. Here there is a unity of conception of the group, in style and positioning, as if it was conceived as a single act related to an event. Other acclamations groups at Laodicea and Hierapolis do not seem to have the same coherence, as far it is possible to know from publications. See Roueché (1989b); (1984); (1999a); (1999b). On the topos inscriptions at Pompeiopolis see n.27. The publication that I have seen does not yet allow a judgment on whether they have been inscribed as a group in a structured way. 23   Topos inscriptions, Aphrodisias, from Hall of the Theatre Baths: Roueché (2004) nos. 191–93. For the second barber,

chapter 6

that they are place inscriptions specifically for commerce, but the context seems persuasive: in an alcove within the same square, evidence for a stall comes from a price list of foodstuffs that was scratched into the plaster: this was one spot at least where agricultural goods were on sale within the covered porticoes of the square. We also have a topos inscription for the chief of the hotfood sellers (ALA 194, + τόπος / αρχεψε / θρεμοπ / ο vac.), written on a mid-5th c. statue base which we know was located on the plaza. From the South Agora comes another inscription which might represent a stall rather than reserved seating: that of Zoticos the Peddler, surely someone of low status. Finally, a place inscription, inscribed on a block reused in the same square, mentions the association of the chair-carriers, suggesting a ‘taxi rank’ to its editor C. Roueché.24 At Perge, a +τόπος θερμοπούλου[.. (place of the restaurant) midway down the main street is highly visible, being carved on a monumental arch. Here, inscribed alone rather than as part of a group, a commercial identification is unquestionable, because no individual is described, only a trade. Whether it referred to a stall or a full-scale restaurant cannot be determined: probably both existed here, comparable to the stall which St. Symeon the Fool operated at Emesa (Homs), for a couple who ran a thermopôleion.25 At Ephesus, a topos inscription on the Embolos is for an eikonophoros, a seller of pictures, whilst two columns of the Arcadiane mention a silversmith, and a block from the Marble Street mentions the place of a carpenter. In these three cases, from streets substantially modified in Late Antiquity, it sounds like we are dealing with the reservation of portico space for the use of high-class shops, rather than reserving spaces for independent stalls.26 Another topos inscription comes from Sagalassos, on the rebuilt colZeno, from the same place see Chaniotis (2011) 201. I saw a further place inscription cut into a quoin of one of the shops on the north side, although I could not read what profession it related to. I also observed the crosses prior to the inscriptions of the barbers: L. Lavan site observations July 2005. Tetrastoon, ‘Men of Hierapolis’: Roueché (2004) nos. 196–97. Roueché (1989a) nn. 196 and 197 both read ‘Place of (the) men of Hierapolis.’ This area in its present architectural form is Late Roman and so the inscriptions must be too, given their structured arrangement. 24   Southern agora: Roueché (1989a) nn.198-206, on columns and bases. Most of these are accompanied by crosses, including the Zoticos inscription. Acclamation to the association of litterbearers: Roueché (1989a) no. 122 = (2004) no. 80 (5th to 6th c., found in the agora, though reused). Roueché notes that the majority of place inscriptions are either clearly Christian or can be dated as late antique based on their location: Roueché (1989a) 229–30. 25  Topos inscriptions, Perge street, τόπος θερμοπούλου: L. Lavan site visit 2005. Symeon: see n. 37 above. 26  Topos inscriptions, Ephesus street: IvE 2.546, 2.547, 2.549.

Markets and Shops

onnade of the main street: τόπος λιανοῦ (place of (?Ju) lian), reminding us that a name might be sufficient to reserve a place.27 On the adjacent Lower Agora, there is an inscription in the paving in late cursive letters, which can be translated as ‘The fortune of the people of the second week triumphs+’.28 Could this reflect the possibility of a regular cyclical market, giving time-limited spatial rights to stall holders? Augustine alludes to such an arrangement in early 5th c. Africa: he mentions stalls that were temporary, which people complained were not currently set up.29 One thing seems certain: known topos inscriptions represent only a fraction of those which once existed: probably only those which were the most deeply inscribed have survived. Do they represent the assertions of individuals? Perhaps, but as Roueché notes, I. Iasos 261 (not 256) reveals that a topos inscription could be authorised by a civic official. This could have carried on in Late Antiquity.30 Two late antique topos inscriptions from around the north-west city gate at Sagalassos are cut by the same hand, and the two inscriptions directly associated with stalls on the Upper Agora also bear a common signature line. This suggests a degree of regulation. Increasingly, the context of topos inscriptions is revealing a degree of structure, whether in agorai, on public seats, or in theatres, which suggests the involvement of public authorities. This kind of regulation, when applied to public space, would have suited Julian of Ascalon. It would also have fit with the urban rules of Constantinople, which can be seen in imperial laws governing behaviour in its public squares, and which Saliou reads in laws that regulated the commercial occupation of its porticoes. I do not mean that all topos inscriptions should be read in commercial terms: most should not. But in western Asia Minor, at least, the evidence suggests that they were used to reserving spots within public space for stalls, and this may have had a degree of civic sanction.31 27  Topos inscriptions, Sagalassos streets: Lavan (2008) 201–14. Topos inscriptions colonnaded street of Soloi-Pompeiopolis: see Borgia and Casabonne (2004) 44–52, who believe they are 5th–6th c. based on paleography (p. 45) although they do not give details of why they think this. The inscriptions include names of professions, cut irregularly on columns, including ‘fine wool merchants / embroiders’, ‘?sheepskin merchants’, ‘market gardeners’, ‘vegetable growers,’ ‘pastry chefs’, to use my own liberal English translations following what suggested by the French authors. 28  ʻPeople of the second weekʼ, Sagalassos Lower Agora: Lavan (2013a) 337. 29  Booths in the street: August. En. in Ps. 81.2. 30  For topos inscriptions in general, see Roueché (2004) nos. 187– 211 with commentary; Roueché specifically cites Blümel (1985) no. 256. 31   For regulation of behaviour in the Basilica courtyard at Constantinople, see Cod. Iust. 8.12.21 (AD 440). On regulation

379 Literary and Pictorial Evidence On one occasion, we do have a description of the clearance of stalls from a major street. At Edessa in 496–98, as part of a cleaning and whitewashing operation, a governor removed wooden booths built by artisans.32 Yet, there is no indication that anything had been built in masonry: probably they were still only light wooden booths like those mentioned by Libanius in orations of 356 and 384, set between columns in the porticoes of Antioch.33 The stalls he describes are wooden, smallscale, and were vulnerable unless occupied. In the latter oration, he notes that they need to be well-maintained: they must be kept in use to stop the wooden building materials being robbed, or age making them unsightly. Libanius states that levies on such stalls provide a source of civic income. In Or. 11 he sees them as testifying to the commercial vibrancy of the city: he first discusses them in the context of an encomium on his hometown. He wrote this as an individual who was especially keen to praise the monumentality of Antioch. If the stalls irredeemably damaged the fabric of the great street, or obscured its beauty, why did he include them? A century later, the Yakto mosaic, depicting the colonnaded avenues of the city, provide the clearest answer to this question: here we see elegant porticoes which are un-encroached, with only temporary stalls (fig. G3).34 The stalls are not kiosks but rather solid tables, with reinforced legs: the same type as appear in the Rossano Gospels’ 6th c. depiction of Christ cleansing the Temple from traders (fig. G4), recalling the slightly simpler tables seen in the Pompeii forum fresco centuries earlier, which were set at knee height.35 The Rossano type, of solid tables rising to waist-height, with four straight legs reinforced by lateral bars near the floor, appear in other late illustrations: in a glass-shop scene from Hadrumetum, and even on depictions of Abraham feeding the angels at Constantinople more generally, see Saliou (2005) 214–18, highlighting particularly Cod. Iust. 8.10.12 (Zeno, last quarter of 5th c.), on which she further comments in Saliou (1994) 283–84. As I go to press, a detailed article on topos inscriptions has appeared by Saliou (2017), which is now the best reference point on the issue. I do not think the points made on commercial function of topos inscriptions necessarily contradict my interpretation, which is made from archaeological arguments, of distribution and association. I do not think that philological typology is the only way to approach them. 32  Stalls at Edessa: Josh. Styl. 29 (AD 496–97), 32 (AD 497–98). 33  Stalls at Antioch: Lib. Or. 11.254 (AD 356), Or. 26.21 (AD 384). Only in the first oration does Libanius definitely locate the colonnades thus occupied as on a street, although this placement is likely in the second oration also: I owe these insights to the seminal article of Saliou (2005) 212–14. 34  Market tables, Antioch, Yakto mosaic: Lassus, (1934) 134–35. 35  Market tables, Rossano Gospels, fol. 2r; the connection is made by Mango (M.M.) (2000b) fig. 3. For the Pompeii fresco, see note 25, above.

380 from San Vitale, which makes Eucharistic references. It is significant that Synesius recalls that the tribal enemies of Cyrenaica, in the first years of the 5th c., profaned church altar tables by using them for the distribution of meat: probably they were identical to those of the macellum.36 In 6th c. Emesa, we again hear of tables (which could be easily tipped over) being used to sell foodstuffs, while in 6th c. Gaza, Choricius described a festival market which had stalls covered in fabrics and laurels, with no mention of stone structures.37 Thus, the roofed wooden structures described by Libanius on the great street of Antioch were probably exceptional. So too were the stalls made out of planks in the porticoes of the main avenue at Constantinople, which Zeno ordered to be replanned and clad in marble.38 Similarly, at Sagalassos, traces of semi-permanent stalls have so far been found only on the main square, not on the streets and lesser plazas. There, away from the main square, tables were more likely used. Occasionally, we find holes in portico columns, as at Laodicea ad Lycum, on Syria Street, which suggest that wooden structures or hooks might have been attached to the columns to the advantage of stall holders. This is not systematic but highly localised, suggesting the initiative of individual shop-keepers or pavement tradesmen. It is very rare. Cuttings possibly relating to counters are rather found on shop doorways, as in the Sebasteion at Aphrodisias, than on the columns themselves. It seems that the city authorities did not wish to allow their porticoes to be damaged and kept commercial structures within strict limits.39 Functions Aside from establishing that regulated stalls did exist, we are able to describe in some detail the types of goods sold on them. Sometimes, we are able to create a general impression of what was being sold but not to tie it definitely to stalls. As noted earlier, Chrysostom mentions meat and bread sold in the marketplace, and seems to imply wine, while also mentioning vegetables and shoes, whilst during the reign of Julian, meat, fruit, vegetables, 36  Same tables in other cases: Hadrumetum, Glass workshop fresco: Foy and Nenna (2001) 185 above; Ravenna, S. Vitale: Mauskopf Deliyannis (2010) 245 fig. 86, 250; Cyrenaica: Syn. Catastasis 6 (PG 66.1569). 37  For Emesa (Homs) (stalls of the pastry chefs and bean seller), see Leont. N. v. Sym. part 4, p. 151; Festugière and Rydén (1974) 55–104 (hereafter cited as v. Sym.). On Gaza, see Choricius, Orationes 1.93, 2.59–65 (not seen). 38  Porticoes at Constantinople (of the Mese): Cod. Iust. 8.10.12.6 (Zeno); Saliou (2005) 214–18. 39  For Laodicea ad Lycum see appendix C2. For Aphrodisias: J. Williams pers. comm., with thanks.

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figure g3 A market stall, Antioch, 480s. Yakto Mosaic

and bread were on sale in Near Eastern agorai.40 At least this last reference seems to imply open displays: surely the trick was to make fruit and vegetables shine in the sun, a practice known to stallholders everywhere. However, in some cases we can explicitly connect goods to a stall. At Aphrodisias, the price list from an alcove of the Tetrastoon includes honey, wine, oil, bread, and, less certainly, vegetables, pulses, and storax, a fragrant gum.41 At Gaza, under Julian, we learn that hot dishes were kept on the boil in the marketplace.42 At Emesa, pastry chefs were selling on tables outside a church, while Symeon sold beans, lentil soup, and fruit in the same city, from what sounds like a self-contained stall, which depended on a thermopolium.43 The impression conveyed by these snippets of evidence is that the stalls in a city were mainly given over to foodstuffs, sometimes unprocessed.44 All of these things could have been brought in from the countryside daily. They might come on donkeys, such as those which Libanius described carrying corn and hay into Antioch 40  For meat and wine, see Joh. Chrys. Ad Theodorum lapsum (Treatise) 19.7–10; vegetables: Hom. in Act. 9.5 (PG 60.84); bread and meat and fruit and vegetables: Theod. Hist. eccl. 3.15.2. 41  List of commodities, Aphrodisias: Roueché (2004) no. 213, painted as a rough graffito on the wall of a recess in the theatre wall facing onto the Tetrastoon, listed as “?4th c.” by Roueché, because it was on plaster that seems to date from the time of the building of the Tetrastoon (later 4th c.), though the inscription could of course have been added a little later. 42  Boiling pots, Gaza: Sozom. Hist eccl. 5.9.4. 43  Bean stall, Emesa: v. Sym. part 4, p. 151. Symeon seems to have been given control over the distribution and sale of the foodstuffs, with only occasional oversight from the thermopolium. 44  Food stuffs: Antioch had food stalls on a main colonnaded street: Lib. Or. 11.251–52. In contrast, the forum scene fresco from Pompeii, shows shoes and iron utensils, as well as bread and pots (perhaps metal), being sold on makeshift tables / stands in the forum, rather than raw foodstuffs, although there is hot food being served from a cauldron, and someone selling foodstuffs, perhaps raw, from baskets and a platter: Accademia Ercolanese (1762) plates 42–43.

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figure g4 A market stall shown in the Rossano Gospels

each day, and which went back home before midday. Alternatively, people might bring them in unaided: like St. Hilarion of Gaza, who himself carried wood, collected in the countryside, into the cities of Sicily for sale.45 There were at least some stalls given over to the sale of manufactured goods. Libanius envisages a tailor working in one of the semi-permanent stalls in between the colonnades of the porticoes at Antioch. Other stalls selling artisanal goods may have been connected to shops within porticoes, which, as mentioned earlier, sold manufactured goods, cooked meals, and services. This seems to be the case for at least some of the stalls at Sagalassos. Indeed, we hear that the silversmiths at Constantinople (located on the Lower Mese) displayed their wares on tables, and only brought them in with the threat of civil disturbance. As we will see, shop owners had certain rights to use the portico space in front of their premises.46 However, it is possible that some finished goods were sold on market tables by visiting tradesmen, such as the shoes being offered for sale on tables in the Pompeii forum fresco. Civil Basilicas Thus far, we have considered stalls set within public squares and streets, sometimes set inside porticoes. In addition, stalls could be set within designated market buildings. These might include civil basilicas: the covered markets of Antiquity, which Vitruvius saw as providing winter cover for the gatherings of traders.47 It seems that these buildings continued to be used for 45  Donkeys bringing corn and hay, at Antioch: Lib. Or. 50.25; Hilarion carrying wood, in Sicily: Sozom. Hist. eccl. 5.10. 46  Shoemaker: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Act. 9.5 (PG 60.84). Tailor at Antioch: Lib. Or. 11.254. Silversmiths display wares on tables, at Constantinople: Soz. Hist. eccl. 8.4. 47  Civil basilicas providing winter cover for traders: Vitr. De arch. 4.1.4.

commercial activities in the 4th and early 5th c. West. At Rome, archaeology reveals that money changers were among the traders of the Basilica Aemilia in the early 5th c.48 Unfortunately, such traces of occupation are not available elsewhere. As discussed in the first chapter of on fora / agorai, there are many repairs, in the 4th and early 5th c. West, to civil basilicas, outside of provincial capitals, and a few repairs in the East, concentrated in them. In the West, these are likely to have been partly commercially oriented, rather than used for law courts, as civic judicial magistrates were now rare, and the jurisdiction of governors was now mainly concentrated in metropoleis. Yet, judicial fixtures, notably a raised dais, are visible in new and repaired civil basilicas in the ordinary cities of Saepinum, Cuicul, and Sabratha, suggesting that legal use continued in some places.49 Market Buildings After considering traditional civil basilicas, it makes sense to survey alternative specialised market buildings (Map 16a), starting with those that seem to ape the form of a basilica, in name or form. A small 4th c. apsed hall, with lateral walls braced with brick piers, has come to light at Cuicul, just off the new forum: an inscription names it as the basilica vestiaria. It coexisted with a new civil basilica on the same plaza. Both were built during the period 364–67, suggesting a differentiation of ‘basilical’ activity into two specialised structures, which in other cities might be mixed.50 Andrew Wilson has 48  Basilica Aemilia: money changers’ coins in destruction layer on basilica floor, the latest of which is AD 409; see Reece (1982) 117, 127, 131–33. 49  Repairs to civil basilicas: see appendices X1a and X1b, with Putzeys and Lavan (2007) 108. 50  Cuicul, basilica vestiaria: CIL 8. 20156 = ILS 5536 = ILAlg 2.3, 7878 = AE (1888) 30 (AD 364–67); civil basilica: AE (1946) 107 and 111= ILAlg 2.3, 7876 = CRAI (1943) 381–83 (AD 364–67);

382 highlighted an almost identical structure at Thamugadi, which has been connected to an inscription dedicated under the same governor who built a forum vestiarium adiutricianum.51 The two apsidal halls, measure ca. 11.5 m wide by ca. 24 m long at Cuicul and 10.4 m wide by 24.25 m long at Thamugadi, in both cases excluding an apse set at one short end. Each hall had a lateral entrance, within one of the long sides. The Thamugadi building was paved in stone slabs with a fine red and black checkerboard area at its centre. A basilica vestiaria is also attested at Rome: this occurs in one manuscript of the appendix to the 4th c. Notitia Curiosum. Other manuscripts list it as basilica vestilia and variants. The same text, in both the curiosum and in its twin, the Notitia Urbis Romae, lists a basilica floscellaria (flower sellers) and a basilica vascolaria / argentaria (for the sale of bronze and silver metal objects, and probably banking).52 We also hear of a basilica of the skin dressers (βασιλικῆς τῶν Γουναρίων) in 6th c. Constantinople. It is worth remembering that in the East at this date, and perhaps at Rome, basilica could also mean a portico, like those which fronted shops along colonnaded streets, especially if it was a double width portico. That said, a prandiara (cloth market? from πράνδιον), near the Augusteion at Constantinople, was distinguished from an ordinary portico by the Chronicon Paschale, and was later used as a prison, suggesting it was a substantial public building.53 The use of more conventional, specialised market buildings is better attested (see figs. G5 and G6). These continued to be occupied, built, and repaired, from the late 3rd to the early 5th c. in the West, and up to the 6th c. in the East. Macella are present throughout Lepelley (1981) 404; Février (1971) 56. See also appendices X1a and W1. 51  Thamugadi: Wilson (2002) 241 and appendix W1. 52  Basilicas of Rome: see Not. Cur. and Not. Urb. Rom. In the latter text vascolaria is vascellaria. Its equivalence with argentaria is based on the non-inclusion in the appendix of the latter basilica (which is listed in Region 8), whilst the vascellaria is absent from the main text. 53  Constantinople, basilica of the skin dressers: Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 327, (AD 531) (Dindorf (1832)); Janin (1964) 160–61. On the term basilica, see Downey (1937) 194–211. Chronicon Paschale does use embolos to describe a portico in the passage just cited, possibly to make a distinction—perhaps embolos designated a single portico and basilica a row of shops within a portico. On the prandiaria of Constantinople, see Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 296 AD 406 (Whitby and Whitby 1989 edn. p. 60, with notes on the interpretation, perhaps from Latin brandeum, a term for silk or cloth covering / shroud for a body), plus Guilland (1961) 408–409 with n. 42 for reference to Pope Martin’s imprisonment in 654 attested in Gesta papae Martini (PL 129.593A). I do not think it is necessary to make the building the same as the Chalke, as if so the Chron. Pasch. would have called it Chalke, as elsewhere.

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the notitiae of Rome (337–57) and Constantinople (ca. 425). We find them in a list of the buildings of Rome, described by Sidonius at the time of the Vandal sack, amongst theatres, praetoria, fora, and gymnasia (i.e. bath buildings), and at Alexandria, where one papyrus describes Athanasius imprisoning Meletian clergy in the meat market (ἐν τῷ μακέλλῳ), before the council of Tyre in 335.54 They took a variety of forms, as Roman macella (courtyard structures with central pagodas), Hellenistic market buildings (compact covered structures), or tetragonal agorai (massive square / rectangular plazas surrounded by shops). New Roman macella were built on at least 4 occasions at 3 sites: at Madauros in 379–83, and at Antioch [likely under Valens, 372–378], according to inscriptions and a chronicle.55 At Constantinople, the Notitia Urbis of 425 lists 4 macella, at least two of which must have been new-built after 324, as they are located in a new quarter of the city [324–425]. Comprehensive rebuildings of complexes identified as Roman macella are known at two sites, from archaeology alone. At Verulamium, the design of the macellum building was radically changed: a courtyard with surrounding rooms replaced by an aisle and two naves, whilst the apse in the east wall was levelled and the street façade was given a massive frontage, supporting a portico or monumental entrance [250–400]. At Sagalassos, the macellum was also rebuilt, except for the central pagoda, with cellular shops being provided on three sides, with mortar or shingle floors [487.5–575].56 Repairs to macella are known on 10 occasions from 7 sites in the West, and on 1 occasion from 1 site in the East. They are known from epigraphy at Isernia [346– 52], Saepinum [346–52], Ostia [418–20], and Lepcis Magna [portico of macellum, 324–46].57 They are known from archaeology at Verulamium [a floor was re-laid inside the north-west entrance, 340–400], Alba Fucens [rooms leading into the macellum on the east side were partially rebuilt and have crude white mosaic floors, 250–389], Saepinum [bicolour mosaic of irregular tesserae roughly laid, in the ambulatory inside the building and in the shops fronting the street, 346– 52], Ostia [twice, repaving 395–420, internal portico 250–429], Lepcis [mixed reused capitals, porticoed hall 54  Macella in Rome, Constantinople, and Alexandria: Not. Urb. Rom. Region 2 and 5, Not. Const. 5 Regions and 8; Sid. Apoll. Ep. 1. 5; P. Lond 6.1914 at Antioch, Lib. Or. 11.256 appears to describe one (a place for the regulated display and sale of meat). 55  New macella / market buildings: see appendix W1. New macella at Constantinople: Not. Const. 6.27 (regio 5), 9.17 (regio 8, post-Constantinian regio), in edn. of Seeck (1876); Socrates, Hist. eccl. 1.38.9. 56  Comprehensive rebuildings: see appendix W1. 57  Repairs to macella: see appendix W2.

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Cuicul

Cyrene

Geneva

Athens

Timgad

Primary build

Secondary modifications

0

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figure g5 Comparative plans of some new-built late antique market buildings: the basilica vestiaria at Cuicul, that at Thamugadi, the replanned Hellenistic market building at Cyrene, a macellum identified by bone dumps at Geneva, and a possible macellum from Athens

rebuilt, 324–26, based on inscription], and Ephesus [a water pipe serving a fountain, 391–416]. These repairs, where we have details, seem to have been conservative, maintaining the existing fabric of the buildings, with few modifications to their functional layout: macella were still in some cases courtyard buildings with a portico and a central roundel / kiosk, designed to host stalls rather than cellular shops. At Sagalassos, the traditional roundel of the macellum survived until the end of Antiquity, despite the building of rows of shops around the edge of the surrounding courtyard in the 6th c. Further, at Thamugadi and Bulla Regia, the erection of statues during the 4th to 5th c. took place within macella buildings of Early Imperial date, which were not modified structurally at all.58 Textual evidence from the 4th to 6th c. also seems to support the continued use of macella, at least for selling meat, while evidence of their use for selling fish, important in the Early Imperial period, is currently lacking.59 A law of 367 provides regulations governing trade in pigs, to be set up on bronze tablets in the swine market (in foro suario) at Rome, which might have been a macellum.60 In 6th c. Antioch, the macellum was still the place where pig’s flesh was cut up, the only place in the city.61 This testimony, of Malalas, is the latest evidence we have for macella as public buildings for specialised meat selling: thus, keeping nasty smells of bloody waste out of the main plaza. However, the story of macella in Late Antiquity is not entirely one of continuity and new 58  Continuity of occupation: see appendix W3. 59  Fish and late macella: de Ruyt (1983) 271–73. Holleran (2012) 174 has recently discussed how macella are associated in texts with meat and slaughter in Late Antiquity. 60  Rome, pig market regulations: Cod. Theod. 14.4.4.4 (AD 367). 61  Antioch, place where pork meat was cut up: Malalas, 9.5, 12.7. Analysed by Downey (1961) 632–67, and ch. 14 n. 3.

building. There is evidence of the disuse of Roman macella at one site in the West and three sites in the East: at Lepcis Magna, the macellum was partially spoliated, subdivided, and given over to dwellings [400–540]; at Philippi, it was replaced by a church [sometime 313– 563]; at Ephesus, it was converted into a church [435– 50]; at Gerasa, the entrances were blocked [500–525].62 The disuse of the macellum at Lepcis is not unexpected, as most secular public buildings in Africa were undergoing change around this time. It is more surprising to see disuse at Philippi, Ephesus, and Gerasa, as here it occurred within the monumental phases of the late antique city, when churches coexisted with public plazas and other secular public buildings. Overall (graphs 51–53), our examples suggest that, in the 4th to early 5th c., macella were repaired across the empire, but that in the 6th c, they were only kept in function in a few larger cities, of the East. Of course, major coastal cities in Asia Minor had even larger commercial structures: tetragonal agorai, consisting of 4 rows of porticoed shops surrounding a central courtyard (for stalls?). These show signs of late repair at Perge and Side, while at Ephesus the tetragonal agora was extensively rebuilt in the later 4th c. [379–403], in its west shops and east and south portico colonnades, and again in the later 6th [550–610], in its north portico colonnade, east shops, paving and entrances. These were enormous complexes: at Ephesus, internal dimensions measured 111 m by 111 m (with ca. 100 shops), at Side 90.8 m by 94 m (with 18 shops), at Perge ca. 62.5–63.5 m by ca. 62–63.5 m (with ca. 28 shops facing inwards, 14 facing outwards). We should also consider that the Piazzale delle corporazioni at Ostia had effectively been converted into a tetragonal agora in the later 3rd or earlier 4th c. 62  Disuse of macella: see appendix W4.

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Primary build Secondary modifications Secondary modifications mosaic

It witnessed the construction of up to 80 one-room cellular units inside its porticoes, reducing their width by half, over the top of existing mosaics. This was not simply a conversion of a public building into housing, seen on other sites. The arrangement of rooms can be directly compared with eastern tetragonal agorai, from major port cities, of which Ostia was one, making this interpretation justifiable. In contrast, the relatively small tetragonal agorai at Phaselis and Elaiussa Sebaste, on the south coast of Asia Minor, were converted into churches.63 As noted in earlier chapters, new fora / agorai of the period (see figs. E1 and E2) seem to have a decidedly commercial appearance: the late 4th c. Tetrastoon at Aphrodisias was simply a four-porticoed square without public buildings, as was the final phase of the forum of Conimbriga [250–400], the 4th c. agora of Tripolis ad Meandrum [300–400], the 5th c. agora of Scythopolis [400–535], and the Forum of Theodosius 63   Tetragonal agorai: K2b (Ephesus, Side, Perge). Disuse at Phaselis: see appendix V3, dated to sometime within Late Antiquity, setting aside architectural dating. Elaiussa Sebaste: see appendix V2, dating to 408–33.

0

20m

figure g6 Tetragonal agora of Perge: refurbished in Late Antiquity

at Constantinople [completed in 394].64 Two simple squares with three porticoes, one from Ostia (the Foro della statua eroica) [begun 250–75; completed 350–75] and another plaza from the last monumental phase of St. Bertrand de Comminges [268–93], seem to be related to this same group, although their secluded position, and closeness to major fora suggest that they had a specialised function.65 The squares at Conimbriga and Scythopolis did have shops, but not those at Aphrodisias, Tripolis, St. Bertrand, or Ostia: with their blank portico back walls, they could only have held stalls. Such stalls are attested at Aphrodisias, as we have discussed, but it could be argued that the plaza also had a representational function, as it is adjacent to the theatre and has produced not only imperial statues but also painted acclamations for governors. Therefore, I have treated it under fora / agorai. 66 64  Newly built fora / agorai: see appendix K1a, K2a for Conimbriga. 65  Ostia (Foro della statua eroica) and St. Bertrand de Comminges (portique en pi): see appendix W1. 66  Statues of Tetrastoon at Aphrodisias: Roueché (2004) nos. 20, 21 (AD 360–64); Smith (1999) 168–71; Smith (2001) 125–36. On the painted acclamations, see Roueché (2004) no. 75, with Roueché (1999b) 161–68. On the stalls see nn. 23–24 above.

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For the plaza at Ostia a more specialised function seems likely, as it is actually set back from the main road behind a porticoed façade and is adjacent to the main forum, to which one might expect political activities to be drawn. The example at St. Bertrand is similarly secluded. Neither were traditional public squares, as their somewhat sheltered setting prevented them from being a focal point in the same way as a traditional Mediterranean forum / agora. Furthermore, there are structural or epigraphic grounds to identify both as ‘macella’, even though they lack a central roundel. For these reasons, they have been included in the appendices on markets and not those on fora / agorai. At St. Bertrand, the plaza measures 24.5 m by 32.5 m internally, from portico back wall to back wall, with porticoes ca. 5.5 m wide. We know little about it except for its plan. An axial room on the south side measured ca. 10.5 m by 4 m. The identification the courtyard as a macellum is fairly easy for St. Bertrand: it was attached on the north side to a basilical structure, the Early Imperial predecessor of which was divided up into a series of cellular rooms, identifiable from its form as a market building. The new plaza at Ostia has recently been excavated by the universities of Kent and Berlin, directed by myself and Axel Gering, leading me to provide a detailed description here. This paved rectangle, built over a former baths complex, has only three porticoes on its 4 sides and no monumental buildings within it, though it is ca. 46 m north-south by 42 m east-west, equivalent in size to the Tetrastoon at Aphrodisias. It was begun in the third quarter of the 3rd c. [250–75], as a slightly smaller square plaza, ca. 4 m shorter (so ca. 42 m by 42 m), when it was given two porticoes and a piered façade onto the decumanus, separated by 9 sets of steps. Its main construction phase dates shortly after the reign of Constantine [350–75], when the lower parts of its walls were revetted in white marble or cipollino, and its porticoes were finished off. Its two porticoes incorporate mixed reused columns of ca. 3.5 m (some granite and some rosso antico) and with mortar floors, whilst its courtyard paving was provided of reused slabs. A screen of projecting columns was added to the façade. The plaza’s paving, of reused stone slabs, was relaid a second time, following a destruction, and a third portico was added. Excavation diaries, studied by Axel Gering, have revealed that the Ostia ‘macellum’ inscription seems to have come from this area. The inscription seems to fit the sequence of the plaza recovered by current work: it records a restoration of a macellum by Aurelius Symmachus, prefect of the city of Rome in 418–20.67 Thus, at least in its final phase, this large Late Roman square, equivalent in size to other new fora of 67  Ostia macellum repair inscription: CIL 14 s.1 4719 (AD 418–19).

the period, seems to have functioned as a macellum, removing foul-smelling residues from the adjacent main square of the city, although without a central roundel or surrounding cellular shops. An alternative type of macellum, a square block of cellular rooms surrounding a small courtyard with no roundel, is also known from early Roman cities in Africa. This type continues to be constructed anew, if we can credit two possible late examples.68 The first structure is known at Geneva in the later 3rd or 4th c. [250–400] (only partially excavated); the second is known at Athens, at the beginning of the 5th c. [395– 420] (the right form, if a little too large). The function of that at Geneva is suggested by a bone dump found on site, whilst the example at Athens is located on one side of the reduced early 5th c. agora: its rooms are a little large but the position is highly suggestive for a commercial building. The Geneva structure seems to be of 14 rooms arranged around a square, which had a perimeter drain and a central feature: the courtyard measured ca. 4.8 m by 5.2 m internally, and the building as a whole measured ca. 13.5 m by 15.5 m. That at Athens was much larger, 27.5 m by 24.8 m externally, a colonnaded courtyard surrounded by cellular rooms of different sizes. A comparable complex was restored at Thasos [324–61], where a block of shops was attached to a courtyard that had no central roundel. Building work in reused material took place on the south-eastern wing of the courtyard, where the cellular rooms, ca. 4 m wide by 3 m deep, were rebuilt entirely it seems, with a floor of “terrazo”, and also in the south-western wing, where much of the original building survived.69 In all cases, these structures were built on or adjacent to the forum / agora of their city, making their identification as organised market buildings likely. However, they had no central pavilion, being designed for stable and segregated artisanal activity, rather than stalls. Traditional Hellenistic market buildings show less continuity than Roman macella within Late Antiquity. These structures were a variation on a Greek stoa, sometimes with cellular shops, or sometimes taking the form of an enclosed hall, often two-storey. Cyrene is the only city to have produced an example of a new market building from this tradition within our period, dating from the final period of monumental building on the agora [352–400]. This was a small open hall, 38.5 m by 7.65 m, with a façade of piers holding arcades, built within the shell of the earlier structure. The act of setting a hall-like structure within an earlier building of the same design allows us to be reasonably confident as to the continuing function of the site as a market building: 68  Blocks of cellular rooms: Baldini Lippolis (2003). 69  Macella, new: see appendix W1.

386 it even seems to have reused the columns of the earlier structure within the new building in the same role. Repairs are also known here, twice: the first repair came when the arcaded façade was blocked up [352–400], the second when new south and east walls were provided, with a new porch [ca. 400]. Elsewhere, repairs are known at Sagalassos [450–75], when the central space of the market building was subdivided, although finds and fittings on site do not suggest that its function had altered. Otherwise, Hellenistic market buildings were at best not spoliated (Pednelissos, Melli), or were demolished (Selge).70 There are other types of untraditional structure which might also have represented collectively organised shopping areas. Some hall-like public buildings, which were converted into cellular shops (see fig. G7), might have served as unified macella. Thus, the Hall of the Theatre Baths and the Sebasteion at Aphrodisias, provided with ca. 20 and 18 units, respectively, each presented an environment not unlike a modern shopping mall, with two aisles of shops lining a central (covered) space; so did the gymnasium and basilica of Herdonia, which were subdivided into rectangular rooms in the 4th c., and the baths’ basilica (now museum) of Side, which was reorganised in the same way, with 30 cellular rooms, likely sometime in Late Antiquity. It is noteworthy that the units in the Hall of the Theatre Baths at Aphrodisias could not be locked, except by closing the whole hall: individual ‘shops’ were open-fronted, with no wall separating the artisans from the open space of the basilica. Such architecture failed to embrace or establish a distinctive tradition but clearly provided amenity to shoppers, by producing self-contained market areas, perhaps with a central space for stalls. In terms of function, it would be wise to keep an open mind as to what was sold in some of these alternative market buildings. We know that secondary plazas might have had specialised commercial functions, such as the forum holitorium (vegetable market) built a fundamentis at Thignica in 326–33. Unfortunately, we are not sure of the form of the structure, and how, if at all, it might differ from a forum or macellum.71 We might expect specialisation amongst these other market buildings but the evidence tends towards mixed commerce. Of ‘alternative macella’ organised as a block of cellular rooms, only at Geneva is there any evidence to suggest that any of them were involved in the selling of meat. At Thasos, the block of cellular rooms on the south-west part of the macellum has produced evidence of mixed commercial 70  Hellenistic market buildings, new: see appendix W1. Repairs: W2. Preservation: W3. Demolition: W4. 71  Thignica, forum holitorium: see appendix W1.

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occupation, in the form of 3rd–5th c. artefacts, revealing a glass manufacturer’s workshop (unworked glass, alongside blowing tubes and wasters), a bronze and iron workshop, (mould fragments, remains of furnace wall, crucible fragments, and forging slag), a leatherworker (needles, shearing knives, punches), a marble-veneer cutter and a chandler (hooks, fishing weights, hameçons, shuttles for making and repairing nets). In the same area, artefacts revealed working in bone, antler, shell, and ivory. At Aphrodisias, the Hall of the Theatre Baths presented evidence of trades from its topos inscriptions: for two barbers and a peddler. In both cases, it seems that there is not a specialised function but rather a range of mixed trades, not all of them high-value.72 Quite why such different trades appear together at Thasos and Aphrodisias is hard to fathom: did links of patronage to a single owner permit unrelated workshops to coexist? Was it commercial logic, based on serving very local markets? We cannot be sure. Whether the late antique situation represents a significant change from earlier segregated commerce, or continuity with the past, is difficult to judge, as artefactual finds in market buildings generally come from the last, untidy, occupation. At Sagalassos, we find a classic macellum, including a surviving central roundel, with dump layers that suggest an ivory workshop was active nearby, in the second half of the 6th c. Admittedly, these dumps likely have nothing to do with what was once sold in the shops surrounding the plaza. Yet, a suspicion remains that some ‘alternative macella’ might have lost the specialised functions they once had, by the 6th c., and have come to reflect mixed commerce seen elsewhere in the shops of eastern cities. But this does not have to mean that there were no new developments in market buildings, beyond repair, continuity, and simplification. Sigma Plazas The most obvi­ous late alternatives to macella were the new ‘sigma’ shopping plazas of the 4th to 6th c. Mediterranean (see fig. G8a–b) (Map 16d). These semicircular exedras of shops were more than simple crescents of boutiques that enlarged the shopping area of the street. In all but one case, where the plan is known, they were set behind a street portico / façade. Only at Philippi, where there were no street colonnades to interrupt, was 72  Function of alternative market buildings: Geneva (sheep and cattle bones): appendix W1; Thasos, (mixed artisanal trades): appendix W2. Aphrodisias, the Hall of the Theatre Baths (topos inscriptions): appendix Y8 and above in this chapter, on topos inscriptions.

387

Markets and Shops Hall of Theatre Baths Aphrodisias

Hall of Museum Baths Side

Basilica Herdonia

Sebasteion Aphrodisias

Primary build

Secondary modifications

0

50m

figure g7 Comparative plans of structures converted into halls of cellular rooms in Late Antiquity (the date of the shops in the Baths at Side is not yet confirmed), at the same scale

Corinth

Philippi

Scythopolis sigma A

Stobi

Scythopolis sigma B

0

FIGURE G8A

Comparative plans of sigma plazas, at the same scale: Corinth, Philippi, Stobi, Scythopolis (Sigma A) and (Sigma B)

50m

388

figure G8B1

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Sigma Plaza: Stobi

the hemicycle open to the roadway. Thus, these plazas were not inte­grated within the avenues on which they were built but were secluded from them. All plazas were newly constructed: 2 were built in the West and 9 or 10 in the East: at Cartagena [425–50], Ostia [346–89], Stobi [425–50], Philippi [250–616], Corinth [250–412.5], Gadara [pending, thought to be 6th c.], and Scythopolis (in two cases) [506–507; 475–507]. The first plaza at Scythopolis is named as sigma in inscription in situ. These cases form the basis of my thematic discussion here. New plazas have been also recently detected at Thessalonica [6th c.] and Justiniana Prima [535-616] based on excavation and geophysics. The latter fronts a church.73 Further examples are known from epigraphy or art at Bostra [a ‘triconch sigma’, built 488] and at Damascus [Umayyad mosque mosaic]. In none of these last four cases do we yet know if the plaza was divided from the street or not. Neither can we be sure that shops were involved in these cases. They are also unclear for one of the two plazas at Scythopolis, one at Gadara, and another at Bostra, due to limited excavation. Shops are

likely, as we have no sense yet that these plazas served as forecourts to larger structures. Only at Justiniana Prima can we confirm that the plaza was set without shops to serve a church. Here, this could reflect the relative under-development of the lower city, which had street porticoes without shops in places. Shops might have been provided in time. Alternatively, the plaza could be considered similar to semi-circular porticoes fronting great houses at Constantinople, or as an elaboration of the recessed street facades seen for secular and ecclesiastical buildings at Rome and Philippi.74 The regional and chronological spread of sigma shopping plazas is a little confusing. The greatest concentrations of them are in the northern Balkans (3) and in the region around the Decapolis (5), but the earliest dated examples come from Italy and Greece. Those from the West (Ostia and Cartagena) look different to the others, as if they were experimental, accidental, or derivative. They seem to have the same function as Eastern sigma plazas, if not the same form. This suggests to me that the sigma plaza had its origin in a major city of the East,

73  Sigma plazas: see appendix X2. Thessalonica and Justiniana Prima: K. Raptis, V. Ivanisevic pers. comm. 2018, 2017.

74  Street porticoes of Lower City, Justiniana Prima: see appendix C2.

Markets and Shops

389

figure g8b2 Sigma Plaza: Scythopolis

probably Antioch or Constantinople where a semi-circular ‘sigma’ portico is recorded by the Notitia of ca. 425, although we cannot be certain of its function (it could be part of a harbour or even a section of the Forum of Constantine). Whether created in Constantinople or Antioch, the sigma was then imitated unconvincingly in the later 4th to earlier 5th c. West, whilst major cities still had the strength to build them. It then spread most confidently in a well-developed architectural form in the East, where it is mainly 5th–6th c. It is obvious that sigma plazas have a much clearerdefined architecture than other types of market building constructed in Late Antiquity. Whilst they are a series of disparate structures, hard to set within a typology, the sigma shopping plaza adopts a form which would have been recognisable in either the Balkans or the Near East. It seems that formal macella and Hellenistic market buildings had reached the end of a tradition, as a range of simpler and quite irregular structures came to sit alongside surviving classic forms. But the sigma plaza began something new, justifying a more detailed discussion here. Its form always involved a semi-circular exedra fronted by a portico, off which was set some configuration of cellular shops, usually arranged radially. In the case of Scythopolis A, the portico had three small apses, set in the centre of the exedra and at its two lateral ends, which seems to have been a detail local to this region of the Near East, as it is alluded to in the ‘triconch sigma’

of Bostra. The sigma at Ostia, although a much earlier example, also has a central, rectangular niche, flanked by two columns which probably contained a statue and a small fountain, but this is repeated nowhere else. As mentioned earlier, most sigma shopping plazas are divided from the street they sit on via a street portico, creating a secluded area, out of the main stream of traffic, pedestrian or vehicular. All seem to be single storey, except perhaps Stobi, where the east side is constructed partly with piers, suggesting it was carrying weight above. Cartagena was very odd, perhaps on account of being set inside a former theatre, having its shops occupying the stage building in a straight row, with a portico without shops set in the cavea, and an upper gallery / ?second portico behind, higher up on the former seating area. Of size, Cartagena is the smallest example, at ca. 22 m diameter (from back wall of portico), followed by Ostia at ca. 26 m, then Stobi at ca. 26.5 m, and Gadara at 28 m. All others are much larger, with the biggest being Philippi at ca. 45 m, with Corinth at ca. 35 m, and Scythopolis A at ca. 38.5 m. Scythopolis B must have been of a similar width, as its diameter without the portico comes to ca. 28 m. In terms of portico width, measurements vary between 3.5 m at Stobi to ca. 6 m at Philippi, with 4–5 m being most common. The number of shops surrounding the plaza varied. Cartagena had 15 in the form of unusually thin one-room cellular units set in the stage

390 building, with doors leading onto either the cavea area or the street behind. At Ostia, there were only 4 possible units, the walls of which were carved out of earlier structures. At Stobi, there were 9, plus 1 access passage. At Corinth, there were 4 or 5 (but only half of the exedra has been excavated), and at Scythopolis A, 15 segmental trapezoids, some with a small extra back room, or niches with horizontal grooves for shelves. In other cases, we do not know how many shops there were. We can take Stobi, Corinth, and Scythopolis as representing a typical range, of 10–15 potential units, as these are welldeveloped and comparable sigma plaza forms, rather than being rather eccentric experiments, as seen at the western sites of Ostia and Cartagena. Colonnade details are well-preserved at Ostia, Stobi, and Philippi. At Ostia, the colonnade is composed of mixed spolia of Attic column bases (one composite) of various white marbles with mixed columns ca. 3 m high of Breccia corallina, white marble, mixed granite, bigio, and red marble. A ‘late Corinthianising’ capital was found in the plaza that might belong here. At Stobi, the colonnade is composed of alternating piers and columns on the north-east side and just columns on the north-west side. It uses mixed reused architectural pieces, including column bases of Ionic and Attic style, some with a pedestal, some without, supporting one complete column of pink / white mottled marble (ca. 2.5 m high), and one of white marble. At Philippi, the portico is composed of Ionic fluted columns of local yellowy-grey marble (of ca. 5.5 m in height), two types of Attic bases (0.28 m and 0.2 m in height), and two types of Ionic capitals (0.19 m and 0.22 m in height), including an angle capital. At Corinth and Scythopolis A, we have fewer details, although Corinthian capitals are known from both sites, and the total colonnade height at the latter site would have been ca. 6 m high, to match the adjacent street portico. Despite the geographical distance between different examples, the style of the colonnades is quite homogenous, with arcading only suspected at Stobi, where the presence of piers makes it likely. Roofing is hard to discuss. Scythopolis A is the only sigma plaza where we have details: both the shops and the portico were here roofed in tiles. The rear wall of the portico at Scythopolis A was revetted in marble, extending inside the shops, whilst that at Ostia seems to have held plaster. About other sites we are ignorant. Portico paving was in reused blocks at Cartagena, in mosaic with irregular black and white tesserae (perhaps in bands) at Ostia, and with black and white tiles at Scythopolis A, in the style of opus sectile. Elsewhere, the floor materials are not certain, lost or not reported. Inside the shops, the floors at Cartagena and Stobi were of stone slabs, whilst those within Scythopolis A were of bricks (1 case), crushed limestone (1 case), or mosaics

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(6 or 7 cases). The latter were rectangular mosaic carpets on a white ground, with geometric patterns and some representations of plants and animals. One of them depicted a civic Tyche. Mosaic inscriptions found within the mosaics in the same shops are poetical in nature, recalling the Muses, Graces, Aphrodite, and Dionysus. Plaza paving in the open air was of beaten earth at Cartagena, of sandstone slabs, not reused, cut in irregular trapezoidal shapes at Stobi, of curving rows of slabs replicating the curve of the portico at Philippi, and of mosaic of a network of black squares set diagonally on a white background at Scythopolis B. The only feature recorded within a plaza’s lunate open yard comes from Stobi: here a platform of three stone blocks sits at the radial centre of the space, onto which is currently set a stone bowl, suggesting possibly a fountain, unless a statue once stood there. The overall impression one gets of sigma shopping plazas is that they represented a clearly defined architectural form, at least by the first quarter of the 5th c., and that they were a significant focus of monumental investment, even if their design actually secluded them from street space. The examples from Scythopolis clearly represent the most luxuriously appointed sigmas, whilst those from the Balkans and the West are simpler, with the employment of reused material reflecting tendencies seen in other types of structure. Nevertheless, the Balkan cases were still well-planned, as were those in the West, despite being original in form, at Ostia and Cartagena. The lunate open plaza itself was clearly an important element within the sigma. It was not just for show as it was paved at Stobi, at Philippi, and at Scythopolis B (in mosaic), and it is likely that comparable paving at Scythopolis A has been robbed. This space was no garden peristyle, but a yard with hard cleanable surface, which would have been perfect for stalls. However, we know almost nothing about the type of trades found on these plazas, whether they served specialised types of commerce or if they too presented a range of mixed artisans. At Ostia, a bakery has been recovered from one of the shops, reusing some fire-proof structures inherited from a bath building. At Stobi, there are finds, but these seem to relate to the last stage of the complex when it was used for storage not commerce. Finally, at Scythopolis A, prostitution has been suggested by excavators, from the shop mosaics described above, perhaps on account of the appearance of Aphrodite. Given that Aphrodite does appear in church mosaics in the same region, this is not a very strong interpretation.75 Evidently, the functional history of sigma plazas remains

75  Aphrodite and other mythological figures in Church mosaics: Bowersock (2006).

391

Markets and Shops

Tralleis Baths

Patara

Aizanoi

Sardis

0

figure g9a

50m

Comparative plan of cellular shops built in Late Antiquity: Tralleis, Patara, Aizanoi, and Sardis

to be addressed by further archaeological work, perhaps from waste traces, rather than finds or decoration. Shops Definition and Identification Because of some controversies over the nature of shops, the following discussion will be organised differently to that for stalls and market buildings, with evidence for new building described only after we have established what a shop is. The terms taberna and ergastèrion are closely associated with shops. Taberna can, however, also mean a hut, shelter, booth, or stall, whereas ergastèrion can mean a place where work is done with no retail element necessary.76 However, this should not obscure the fact that in an urban context these terms are widely used to designate buildings housing permanent retail establishments, including rows of purpose-built cellular rooms. It is the latter definition which will be explored in this chapter. Such units, set in prime locations, along main avenues and fora / agorai, spread around the Mediterranean from the 4th c. BC onward, and continued to be built in the period (see fig. G9a–b).77 The func76  Glare (1968–82) s.vv. ‘ergasterium’, ‘taberna’; Lampe (1961), s.v. ἐργαστήριον. 77  Cellular tabernae began in Italy in the 4th c. BC and spread with the establishment of Roman cities in the West: see MacMahon (2003) 4–5. No equivalent study has been made for the East, where they form an integral part of Roman colonnaded streets in Early Imperial phases, though cellular units

tion of these ergastèria / tabernae is easy to distinguish from the stalls found in plazas, streets, or self-contained market buildings. In Late Antiquity, tabernae do not seem to have carried out the sale of raw food stuff and other agricultural products, but rather the integrated production and sale of artisanal goods, from cooked meals and bread to silver ornaments. The production undertaken inside cellular shops was very definitely secondary production: not the primary processing of raw materials or other dangerous artisanal activities (such as making pottery): rather, glassblowing, the manufacture of small iron objects, and so on, with facilities designed for display and sale, as much as for production. Thus, as will be discussed later, there is evidence of hammer scales from metalworking at Sagalassos, and of small furnaces for blowing glass at Aphrodisias. Yet, no large-scale production installations have been located within cellular shops. It seems likely that these arrangements were supposed to allow objects to be manufactured to order by customers, as Cassiodorus (Var. 8.31) suggests. A final distinguishing characteristic of tabernae / ergastèria was perhaps their status, as permanent points of sale. Libanius describes how agorai could be deserted in winter in Syria because of the rains, which caused the citizens of Antioch to keep to the porticoes. Presumably, such seasonal downpours seriously disadvantaged stallholders, even if they could were present in Late Hellenistic market buildings and tetragonal agorai, as at Ephesus and Miletus. However, as I went to press Ellis (2018) makes a strong start.

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Athens

Justiniana Prima

Ephesus, Alytarch Stoa

Abu Mina

0

figure G9b

20m

Comparative plan of cellular shops built in Late Antiquity. Athens (Library of Pantainos), Justiniana Prima, Ephesus (Alytarch Stoa), Abu Mina (3 examples)

Markets and Shops

find a space under a basilica or portico roof, as Vitruvius envisaged.78 In contrast, shop owners were able to stay open all year. As I have noted, when found in literary sources, the terms tabernae and ergastèria are commonly identified with the rows of cellular shops found in Mediterranean cities, especially those lining their principal avenues. However, recently, there has been some theory-based dissent about the automatic attribution of textual labels to these architectural structures. Penelope Allison has criticised many of the simple assumptions behind the connection of linguistic terms to architectural spaces: not all shops need have been set in rows of cellular rooms, and not all cellular rooms need have been shops.79 Taking this line of thinking further, Anthea Harris has suggested that the finds from cellular units do not necessarily designate commerce, particularly in relation to the ‘shops’ of Sardis.80 These analyses have some benefit: certainly not all shops were located in purpose-built structures, as Jennifer Baird has demonstrated for Dura-Europos.81 Conversely, not all cellular shops served as retail spaces in their final phase, from which artefacts found on site relate: they might have been just houses, rather than shops in which artisans also lived. For mixed domestic and commercial use we have some literary evidence: a widow sleeping above a shop at Antioch and owners sleeping in two thermopolia at Emesa.82 However, there is much architectural and artefactual evidence which seems to confirm the traditional identification of rows of cellular rooms on streets and squares as shops.83 Above all, the architectural evidence seems clear: these structures were commonly built as rows of cellular units of one or two stories, frequently fronted by 78  Agorai deserted in winter in Syria: Lib. Or. 11.215–17; basilica providing shelter to traders in winter: Vitr. De arch. 4.1.4. 79  Function and labelling: Allison (2001) 181–208. 80  Sardis shops: Harris (2004) 82–122. 81  Shops in varied settings: Baird (2003) 413–47. 82  Antioch, widow above shop: Lib. Or. 33.6; Emesa, owners sleeping in bean seller’s shop and tavern: see v. Sym. part 4, pp. 151, 153. 83  See now the strong discussion of tabernae as shops in Holleran (2013) 99–121, working mainly from Early Imperial evidence, especially from Vesuvian cities and texts from Rome. The late antique evidence for shops, mainly eastern, is complicated by the rareness of grooved threshold blocks, which are a common feature of western tabernae, which also have distinctive wide entrances, unlike in the East. Holleran does consider location as a factor favouring identification as tabernae, but the richness of her evidence and architectural distinctiveness of her structures means that she does not need to use all the arguments I present here. She has enough clear evidence of shops with finds not to need to worry about cellular rooms without finds.

393 a portico, opening onto the street, sometimes through an entrance which extended across the full width of the façade. Such a structure is perfect for commerce, and it is no surprise that we find these cells within macella and tetragonal agorai. Those on a colonnaded street are labelled ergastèria on the Yakto mosaic.84 It is true that within forts, cellular units are normally interpreted as barrack blocks: but within an urban setting, rows of rooms along major avenues would be the most desirable commercial properties. Furthermore, fixtures found within such units frequently indicate commercial activities (such as the multiple basins at Thamugadi, or the counters of Ostia), while finds at sites like Sagalassos, Tralleis, and Scythopolis seem to confirm both production and retail, at least in the final period. The topos inscriptions of Aphrodisias and Sagalassos set outside ‘shops’ also suggest that cellular units had a specialised commercial function. Finds of production materials (e.g., dyestuffs) and especially waste, such as hammer scale, take the case further. Thus, in this chapter, I will be treating the rows of cellular units found along main urban streets as having been constructed as shops. Further, because such units continued to be built in ever greater numbers within city centres in the East, I will also assume that most of them continued to be used as shops until the end of the period, an assumption supported by finds from Sagalassos, Scythopolis, Beirut, and elsewhere. Perhaps the most important arguments for the identification of rows of cellular rooms on main streets as shops are textual. At Constantinople, we know that the buildings lining the main avenue (confirmed as cellular units in a small excavation) were key retail establishments, certainly at the time of the early 10th c. Book of the Prefect and probably earlier, as silversmiths were based here in the early 7th c.85 Further, we hear of ownership arrangements for groups of shops, which is unsurprising, given that rows of cellular shops are usually built as one phase, as an architectural unit. Thus, for Antioch, we see on the Yakto mosaic a group labelled ergastèria (plural) belonging to a martyrion.86 At Constantinople, a friend of Chrysostom owned a group on the Augusteion square, on the south side of Hagia Sophia, while a law of 84  Cellular units are found within new macella at Geneva and Athens, in a late rebuild at Sagalassos, and in tetragonal agorai at Ephesus, Perge, and Side in a late rebuild and earlier. For full references, see appendices W1, K2b and Y1–Y3. Cellular units were also occupied in the 4th to 5th c. within a macellum of Thasos: J.-Y. Marc, pers. comm. On the Yakto mosaic, see Lassus (1934) 134–35. 85  Constantinople, units along the Mese: Naumann (1965) 145– 46; Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 327, (AD 531) (a basilica (i.e., portico) of silversmiths). 86  Antioch, Yakto mosaic: Lassus (1934) 134–35.

394 Constantius endowed the same church with income from ergastèria in the city, suggesting imperial ownership.87 In a sermon given at Antioch in 387, Chrysostom implies that several artisans of different trades inhabiting the same shop paid rent collectively: given the small size of most shops (ca. 3 m by 3 m or ca. 4 m by 4 m), this could well refer to traders within a single row.88 The existence of a sequence of single letters (Α, Β, Γ, etc.) in front of a row of shops at Beirut, and the uniform use of all units in some rows (such as Tralleis’ weaving establishments), also suggests the influence of a common constructor or owner.89 Functions The trades represented in late antique tabernae / ergastèria were many, and have been explored in a recent article.90 Unfortunately, not every trade attested can be explored in equal detail, as the nature of the sources we have is very uneven, reflecting in part the different levels of refuse which different artisans produced or how well that residue has survived. Thus, although we hear of ergastèria being used as schools and as painters’, barbers’, money changers’, candle makers’, and perfumers’ shops, excavations tend to find mainly restaurants, metal workshops, dye shops, and glassblowing establishments. This is a rather poorer material trace than for the Early Imperial period, when butchers’, fishmongers’, and potters’ shops are known.91 Such a wider variety of establishments may have continued to exist, but we cannot confirm their presence archaeologically. In the West, late occupation levels and fixtures have often been removed by subsequent damage, so few functional identifications are possible. In the East, sudden destructions, as at Scythopolis and Sardis, provide an evidential window which would otherwise be closed. Yet, even on such exceptional sites, many professions are still invisible. The evidence is undoubtedly richest for shops in Asia Minor and the Levant. From these sites, supplemented 87  Constantinople, shops south of Hagia Sophia, see V. Olymp. 6; for endowed shops on the Mese, see Just. Nov. 59.5, perhaps referring to Cod. Iust. 3.1.2 (AD 357). 88  Common rent: Joh. Chrys. Hom. ad pop. Ant. 16.6 (PG 49.172): ‘And in the same manner as persons inhabiting the same shop carry on a separate traffic, yet put all afterward into the common fund, so also let us act’. 89  Beirut pavement numbers: American University of Beirut, “Module 3: The Byzantine Portico and Shops,” Windows on the Souk, http://ddc.aub.edu.lb/projects/archaeology/soukex/ deliverables/module03.html (accessed July 2010). See also appendix Y6. On the uniformity of shops at Tralleis, see appendix Y5. 90  Survey of shop functions: Putzeys and Lavan (2007). 91  Early Imperial shops, professions evidence: MacMahon (2003) 62–64, 66–68.

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by occasional texts, we can gain at least something of an impression of the nature of artisanal boutiques found in late antique cities. From both literary sources and archaeological evidence, it seems likely that the most common type of commercial unit was the restaurant. In contrast, metal workshops, glassblowers, and fullonicae, which have equally distinctive architectural fixtures, are mentioned far less often in the texts. The same is true of bakeries. Of other types of late antique shop, we usually have only single examples from archaeology (e.g., a mosaicist, perfumer, or goldsmith), or epigraphy (two barbers in one places), or perhaps just one literary description (of a painter). In texts, schools are the type of ‘shop’ best represented, at Rome, Antioch, and Athens, although silversmiths are mentioned at both Carthage and Constantinople. This all points toward the unremarkable conclusion that restaurants / taverns and schools were very frequently, while other establishments were less common. Quite how many glassblowers existed in relation to barbers cannot be known. Yet, some of the ‘rare’ artisans were probably a little more common than our fragmentary information suggests: Chrysostom and Augustine use metaphors drawing on painters’ or perfumers’ shops as if they were universally understood, as will be explored shortly. It is important to note the existence of some trades not represented as occupying shops during Late Antiquity, in any source: either texts, epigraphy, or archaeology. There were apparently no (or very few) permanent shops for the sale of fruit and vegetables, meat, fodder, clothes, shoes, ordinary building materials, or slaves. In some cases, we may assume a gap in our evidence (likely in the case of cobblers and high-class tailors), but in other cases these were goods which we know or may presume were sold on the stalls in specialised buildings or on stalls in the marketplace. This was either because regulations demanded it, or because their value was too low / seasonal for the volume sold to support a shop, which was likely the case for most raw foodstuffs.92 Perhaps some commodities had to be bought from out-of-town production sites, or direct from the private houses of artisans in the suburbs, who could not afford a street-front studio. There seems little basis to assert that professional service providers, such as lawyers and notaries commonly held tabernae as offices in this period, rather than using their own homes or the porticoes of public plazas.93 Admittedly, one can note 92  On unprocessed foodstuffs in the market, see nn. 40–45, above, and in the main text related to the same footnotes. 93  Professional service providers: at Cyrene, a government office was definitely in a monumental building on the agora; see

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a number of small civic and imperial offices on streets and public squares, as at Rome, Caesarea Palestinae, and Emesa, which might have occupied tabernae. Yet, where we have specific details, it is clear that more monumental settings were used, and one would expect city council chambers, basilicas, and praetoria to be the normal settings for such activities.94

395

Urban Setting According to the rule book of Julian of Ascalon, which seems to reflect practice in 6th c. Palestine, the location of different types of artisanal activity was regulated. Some enterprises were entirely excluded from cities, to guard against fire and nuisance.95 Quite what happened in reality is another matter, at least in terms of the urban landscapes revealed by archaeology, which picks up traces of production well. As far as the exclusion of dirty primary production goes, these rules seem to have been respected, up to a point, although occasional breaches are known.96 In the 4th to 6th c. East, we rarely find pottery / lime kilns and blast furnaces in city centre locations. Admittedly, in reconquest Africa, a number of messy production sites were established inside fora and large public buildings. They also appear in other regions under Roman control, within the late 6th and 7th c., notably in Crete and Asia Minor, and then in the Levant under the Umayyads and early Abbasids.97 However, for

prosperous cities in the 4th c. West and 4th to 6th c. East, we still find production sites on the edge of or outside of cities, as at Delphi, Sagalassos, and Dor.98 What we do find, in even the most monumental city centres, in contradiction of Julian of Ascalon, are small units for secondary production, with retail incorporated: notably glassblowing shops and metal workshops, despite the fire risk they posed.99 The testimony of archaeology and everyday textual sources reveals a mixed landscape of retail, with rows of shops containing different trades, with occasional nodes of concentration. For mixed commerce, we have the finds from shops at Sardis, Aphrodisias (Theatre Baths), Sagalassos (Upper Agora), and Beirut, as well as a description of a mixed row from 7th c. Constantinople.100 For zones of concentrated commerce, we hear of metalworkers in groupings together: thus, according to the Patria, Jewish coppersmiths clustered together at Constantinople in the Chalkoprateia until the time of Theodosius II, while a Street of the Silversmiths is known from Carthage and likewise existed on part of the Mese at Constantinople. Puteoli had a street of incense traders in AD 334–42, again a high-value trade.101 However, Carthage also had a Street of Fig Sellers,102 a lower value trade which contradicts this pattern: perhaps sellers were organised in stalls on the roadway itself, or in a portico, rather than occupying shops. At Antioch, inns

appendix M1; at Emesa, a ταβελλίων (public notary) had his seat in the agora (here probably not related to a law court, as this is not a provincial capital); see Procop. Anec. 28.6 (ὅνπερ ταβελλίωνα καλοῦσιν Ῥωμαῖοι). 94  At Antioch, a tax office was established in a former temple: Lib. Or. 30.42. The ‘tax office’ at Caesarea Palestinae was part of a wider praetorium complex and was not a simple taberna; Ellis (2006) 424 sees it as comparable to medium-sized ‘middle class’ houses in the region. There is no solid evidence for the hypothesis that the secretarium senatus at Rome was inside a taberna of the Forum of Caesar; see Fraschetti (1999) 230–36, with further references. It seems far more likely that a building inscription would record repairs to a monumental structure than to a taberna, for which see appendix L1. 95  Rules on craft location: Julian of Ascalon 5.1 (pottery production considered only in villages); 4.3 (bread ovens restricted to the outskirts of cities); 11.1 (glassmakers and ironmongers and foundries must practice on outskirts); 14 (garum makers excluded). 96  Industrial encroachment, later 3rd to 5th c.: see appendix Z1, of which there are only 5 examples of messy productive processes carried out within city centres, at Silchester, metalworking in the forum [259–84]; at Amiens, metalworking and slag dumping in the forum [364–89], at Grumentum, a foundry in forum portico [300–400]; at Thessalonica, the abandoned forum see pottery kilns [begun 400–425, ended no later than mid-5th c.]; see appendix V5b. 97  Industrial encroachment, late 6th–7th c.: see appendices Z2. At Laodicea ad Lycum, the occupation of the North Agora, within the years 494–610, by a spolia workshop and a pottery

(with kiln), may come earlier in the 6th c. than at other sites. It can be explained by the ruining of that plaza by the earthquake of 494, which saw it replaced by an agora to the south. A spolia workshop by the Byzantine East Gate conforms to later dating, having been established within the period 602–610. 98  Industrial quarters on edge / outside of city: Delphi, peripheral in terms of late city: Petridis (1998) 703–10; Sagalassos: Poblome et al. (2001) 143–66; Dor, by north harbour: Raban (1995) 285–354. See also Hierapolis: appendix V5b. 99  Glassblowing occurred in shops within the walls of Delphi, Ephesus, Aphrodisias, and Beirut, and metalworking in Segobriga, Carthage, Sardis, Sagalassos, and Scythopolis (8th c.): see Putzeys and Lavan (2007) 85–93. Metalworking also in shop of the agora of Arykanda: appendix Y2. Blacksmiths suggested at Justiniana Prima: appendix Y4. 100  Mixed commerce in single rows of shops: Thasos, Sardis, Sagalassos (Upper Agora west side), and Beirut, see appendices W3, Y5, and Y6, respectively for references. For Constantinople, see Miracles of St. Artemius ch. 18, 21, 26, 29, 36; Mango (M.M.) (2000b) 197. 101   Specialised commerce: Copper market, Constantinople: Patria 3.32; Silversmiths, Constantinople on the Mese: Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 327, (AD 531 in edn. of Whitby and Whitby (1989), although clearly January 532 from Theophanes A.M. 6024 (AD 531/32 date in edn. of Mango and Scott (1997)); Malalas, 18.71; Carthage: August. Conf. 6.9 (14). Incense-traders, Puteoli: LSA 1909 (AD 334–42) = Ephemeris Epigraphica 8.1.365 (not seen) = ILS 1224b = AE (1977) 199. 102  Fig Sellers, Carthage: August. De moribus Manichaeorum 19.72.

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clustered just outside the gates of the city.103 For metal workers, one might suspect that their relatively valuable products encouraged safety in numbers. Yet, groupings of shops of weavers and dye workers suggest something more complex was going on: perhaps the presence of guilds, who came together by choice or compulsion. A passage of Augustine seems to imply that, in some cases at least, groups of artisans might assemble in order to make complex manufacture easier, with a division of labour resembling Fordist mass production: … like workmen in the street of the silversmiths, where one vessel, in order that it may go out perfect, passes through the hands of many, when it might have been finished by one perfect workman. But the only reason why the combined skill of many workmen was thought necessary was that it is better that each part of an art should be learned by a special workman, which can be done speedily and easily, than that they should all be compelled to be perfect in one art throughout all its parts, which they could only attain slowly and with difficulty. August. de civ. D. 7.4104

In a few cases, the clustering of trades is likely to have had a commercial motive. The book copiers and sellers trading in the Basilica courtyard at Constantinople clearly wanted to be close to the city library and the law courts, which drew customers for their wares.105 Thus among shops, it is unsurprising to find restaurants clustered around agorai, which were still important centres of social life. The placing of schools around fora / agorai can perhaps be explained by the desire of teachers to catch the eye of parents visiting the agora for other reasons, or to imitate the style of those ‘civic’ teachers who were lucky enough to enjoy a classroom in the town hall.106 Perhaps variations in rent influenced where some types of commerce were located: the street of the silversmiths was adjacent to the forum of Carthage in the late 4th c., and similarly occupied the main avenue of Constantinople in the early 7th c., probably because these traders were able to pay higher

103  Antioch, inns just outside city gates: Lib. Or. 11.231. 104  Production line of silversmiths: August. de civ. D. 7.4 edn. Hoffmann (1899–1900). 105   Book copiers and sellers in the Basilica courtyard at Constantinople: Agath. 2.29.2. 106  Clustering around agorai, of restaurants (Sagalassos, Antioch, Cyrene) and schools (Rome, Milan, Carthage, Constantinople, Athens, Antioch): see the references collected in the chapter on fora / agorai in the 4th–5th c.

rents than blacksmiths and their ilk.107 In some cities, such as Thamugadi, the incidence of fullonicae seems too great to relate to any real retail logic: it has been suggested that intensive commercial cloth finishing for export was their aim, rather than cloth cleaning, as elsewhere.108 Yet, if export was their goal, it seems odd to fill city centre shops with such establishments, rather than placing them outside the city. Perhaps the motivation in setting fullonicae within shops, rather than in the suburbs, was to obtain direct access to urban water supplies and drains, to provide improved security, or to bestow a mark of status, rather than being there only to sell. Architecture Although the architecture of cellular shops is relatively simple, it reveals much about their nature. The most important observation that can be made is the striking homogeneity and continuity of their basic design, from the Hellenistic period to the early 7th c. AD. Many late antique traders operated out of shops dating from earlier periods, to which they felt no need to make major adaptations. Furthermore, the design of shops constructed anew saw no change from earlier models, right until the shops of Abu Mina and Justiniana Prima. Most shops were organised in short rows, of roughly comparable cellular units of one room, opening out onto a portico or street / plaza surface. Some shops not arranged in rows surely do escape archaeological identification. But there are so many units, arranged in cellular strips along main streets and plazas; we have plenty to describe without worrying too much about those which are hidden from us. Admittedly, a minority of shops are not rectangular, being trapezoidal, as on circular plazas at Dyrrachium and Gerasa, or triangular, when set into odd angles, as at Patara. Sometimes, a row of shops was tapered slightly to create a more parallel face within a street (as at Abu Mina) or plaza (as at Delphi). The preference remained for a rectangular shape, slightly deeper than it was broad. To facilitate discussion of size and modularity, I have constructed a table, which includes references to the appendices, in which supporting details can be found. One-room units were the norm (fig. G9a, with some on G9b). This was likely a cultural preference, as at Ephesus and Abu Mina some shops well-suited to division into front and rear rooms were not so divided. Units two-rooms deep are known, but were very rare. They are confined to three sites in the Balkans, being new-built in this manner at Gorsium [244–435, Y4], 107  On the location of silversmiths, see n. 101, above. 108  High incidence of fullonicae at Thamugadi: Wilson (2002) 237–41.

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Diocletianopolis [250–616, Y4] and Justiniana Prima [535–616, Y4]. In Asia Minor, they are present for two rows at Ephesus [Alytarch Stoa 250–436, street between Temple of Domitian 305–614, both Y5], and two at Sagalassos, of which the last two sites involved adapting earlier structures. At Scythopolis, we have an example of a row of shops where an inner room was cut into the bedrock to provide more space. A similar effect was achieved, where we have rows of shops carefully expanded into the portico to create two-room units: at Gerasa [404–29], Sagalassos [two sections of same agora portico, 525–641, 525–75], Scythopolis [on both sides of three streets, sometime after 534], and Sepphoris [250– 612.5 on streets]. At Gerasa, the new rooms only took in 35% of the portico, although in the other three cases they blocked it.109 But new shops were almost always built as rows of one-room units, only a single room deep. Occasionally, we see access doorways cut sideways, into adjacent shops or find rows of rooms built from the start with such access doorways, thus creating two- or three-room units. Yet again, this is very rare, accounting for only around 9 of the 70 or so rows we know of. Most of these multi-room units are found in Asia Minor, with examples from Sardis, Ephesus, Hierapolis, Sagalassos, and Side. Even here they only represent a variant on the preferred model of a row of one-room cellular shops. The preference of the age can be seen most clearly at the ‘Byzantine Bazaar’ in Scythopolis, where four parallel rows of shops were laid out by the north-east gate [550–614]: in each case this was done in the form of four single-room units. The length of the rows depends almost entirely on the space available, the largest being found on tetragonal agorai: at Ostia up to 80 units were established in the Piazzale delle corporazioni in 250–350; at Ephesus up to 95 units (73 confirmed archaeologically) were rebuilt in the tetragonal agora in 379–403. The Byzantine agora of Scythopolis boasted 25 units, whereas the round plazas of Bostra [287.5–312.5] and Gerasa [293–305] had 12 each, and those of Palmyra [259–328, partially dug] and Dyrrachium [500–525] 8 each. Hall-structures, converted to shopping areas, at Side held 12 [350–450], and at Aphrodisias 20 and 18 (with 30 rooms) in two instances [ca. 363, 350–450]. On fora / agorai or streets, rooms of 5–10 rooms were normal. A few very long rows have been excavated: at Sardis [400–425], a row of 28 units (with 34 rooms) has been uncovered, but split into sub-rows of 2, of 13, of 18 and of 1 units; at Scythopolis (Palladius Street) [300–400], 35 units were built, all single-cell; at 109  I do not include here cases whereby rebuilding / new building involved taking in the street paving itself (see appendix A11 on narrowing).

397 Ephesus (Plateia in Coressus), at least 26 shops were established, probably at the same time as the street surface was renewed [576–601]. These long rows are all part of major avenues in large cities. We must also imagine new shops also being built on great colonnaded streets at Constantinople and in other centres, in even greater numbers. But in most cases, rows were broken up into short relatively ‘parades’, by the course of streets, the position of monuments, the space available between them, or by the limited ambitions of property owners. Within rows, rooms were usually regular in size. Their internal dimensions varied from ca. 6 m by 16 m at Diocletianopolis to ca. 2 m by 2.4 m at Sagalassos, although a few shops were even smaller, in one or another dimension, when they were set in odd angles created by earlier walls.110 In Asia Minor and in the Near East, sizes of 3 m by 3.5 m are common. It is clear that the northern Balkans produced some of the largest shop dimensions, as at Thracian Philippopolis and Dyracchium, where shops are known of ca. 4.6 m wide by 5.7 m deep and of ca. 7 m by 4–9 m, whilst shops at Justiniana Prima reached sizes of ca. 5.8–7.3 m by 3.9 m or ca. 6.3 m by 3.2–5.2 m. This ‘Balkan supersize’ may be partly responsible for the very large size of mid6th c. shops at Constantinople, on the Lower Mese, ca. 4.75 m deep and 7.1 m wide. Admittedly, higher up the same avenue, shop dimensions of ca. 2.5 m by 4 m have been recorded, likely part of the Constantinian phase, reminding one of the size variations seen within all cities. Large shops also occur on the colonnaded street at Abu Mina (ca. 6.4 m wide by 5.8 m deep, ca. 4 m wide by 9 m deep) and in small numbers at Iasos, Aphrodisias, and Antioch in Pisidia. In the Anatolian cases, these larger shops seem almost accidental, being very few in number and always part of new encroaching structures without a portico. Very small shops were often associated with attempts to convert porticoes and other structures into cellular units, a process which produced compact shops at Sagalassos and at Hippos / Sussita. Where elevations survive, most shops seem to have been single-story. A wooden mezzanine was doubtless common: at Sagalassos (Lower Agora) and at Aphrodisias (South Agora), lines of beam holes have been detected that define both the roof line and the ceiling / upper floor. The space within the arches of vaults might also be used, as similar beam holes suggest at Ephesus, on the tetragonal agora.111 Occasionally, shops 110  Shop sizes: see appendices Y1–Y8. Sagalassos: Putzeys (2007) 213–18 (available at http:// users.telenet.be/diplodocus/Phd_ CD/index.html; last accessed November 2010). 111  Mezzanine: Sardis: Crawford (1990) 8; Sagalassos, Lower Agora west side shops: L. Lavan site observations 2005.

398 were two-storey, which was definitely the case for some at Sardis and at Perge, and for some at Constantinople. Upper rooms were reached by staircases, in brick or stone. These are preserved at Sardis, Ephesus (Alytarch Stoa), Aphrodisias (Sebasteion), Hierapolis, Iasos, Side, and Scythopolis (Bazaar). On the Mese, an upper gallery of shops is likely but most upper galleries in porticoes do not seem to relate to shops.112 Ordinary upper storeys, without upper porticoes, were more likely simply given over to domestic use, as suggested by Libanius. One would expect the spaces to be occupied by artisans and their families, but this was not always so: Julian of Ascalon envisages that those living above portico ceilings might be in separate properties / tenancies to those at ground level, presumably with separate street access via a staircase.113 Upper floors at Hierapolis were paved with brick, whilst those of Sardis were of bricks or tiles, laid over wooden planks, judging from the nails found in the ‘burn strata’.114 Sardis also provides exceptional preservation of shop elevation details: windows are present in two units in the lower storey, whilst one window had an iron grille. Window glass has also been recovered alongside lead strips which held them in place, with square, rectangular, and arched window shapes being suggested. Some window glass came from shops without ground floor windows, suggesting they existed on an upper storey. Window panes were found at Sagalassos in units installed on the west side of the Lower Agora, whilst shops at Abritus in Moesia had windows, as well as doors, facing onto the portico in front of them. A few front doors were converted into windows at Sardis, whist some existing windows were blocked up entirely.115 The shops of the silversmiths at Carthage (or their porticoes) had a roof that included lead, as did some public buildings, such as the civil basilica at Cirencester. Other structures made some use of lead sheets, within a wider tile structure, as portico roofs excavated in Ostia (Foro della statua eroica) or Justiniana Prima. A row in Cirencester had stone tiles. However, most shops seem to have had roofs of ceramic tiles, like those of their porticoes, as depicted at Antioch on the Yakto mosaic, and confirmed at Sardis, Hierapolis, and Justiniana Prima.116 112  Staircases: at Sardis: appendix Y5; Ephesus (Alytarch stoa): appendix Y5; Aphrodisias (Sebasteion): Y8; Hierapolis: appendix Y7; Iasos: Y2; Side: Y5; Scythopolis (Bazaar): Y5. Second-level portico: e.g., Cod. Theod. 15.1.45 (AD 406). 113  Upper storey, domestic use: Lib. Or. 33.6 (a widow sleeping above a shop at Antioch: see n. 82 above); Julian of Ascalon 37 (upper storeys as separate properties). 114  Upper storey floors: Hierapolis (brick): appendix Y7; Sardis (planks, with some bricks or tiles laid on): appendix Y4. 115  Windows: Abritus: C4; Sardis: appendix Y4; Sagalassos: Y2. 116  Roofs: Carthage (lead): August. Conf. 6.9 (14); Cirencester basilica: appendix X1d. Antioch (Yakto mosaic, tile): Lassus

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A few shops have roofs that were barrel-vaulted. Such vaults can be seen over shops on the south side of the Basilica Julia in Rome, on the Lower Agora of Ephesus in the 4th c. (partly rebuilt again in the 6th c.), at Sagalassos, at Patara (in the second phase of the shops), at Tralleis, and at Jerusalem on the cardo extension (see fig. G10). Vaults often occur when shops were built against a larger structure or a hillside.117 Single-phase vaults of course imply the collective construction of rows as units. As in earlier centuries, shop fronts in the East usually had formal doorways, of a single leaf (as at the Sebasteion at Aphrodisias and at Sardis) or double-leaf (as at Ephesus Alytarch Stoa, at Ephesus Upper Embolos, at Sardis, at Perge tetragonal agora, and Side). Otherwise, they might be left entirely open to the street, with no threshold at all, such as some shops built at Jerusalem on the cardo extension. Similar units at Alexandria may have depended on artisanal properties on the opposite side of the street.118 In the West, shops with an open front were more common, and were sometimes closed by a distinctive type of door, whose conjoining planks were fitted into special slots in the threshold, one after the other, and closed with a padlock.119 A late example is known from a late shop at Scupi, where the distinctive groove is cut into a reused architrave [312.5–337.5]. Other slotted threshold blocks continued to be employed for shop doorways at Ostia throughout Late Antiquity, despite several rises in street levels during the period: being reset higher and higher.120 The accessibility of the shops to the major street, where the main drains ran, could create difficulties with flooding; as noted previously, when storm drains overflowed, one might see panicked (1934) 134–35; Sardis, tile: appendixY4; Justiniana Prima (Acropolis): C2; Ostia, Foro della statua eroica (tile-portico collapse on the portico): W2; Cirencester, stone: Y6. 117  Vaulted roofs: Ephesus (Lower Agora): see appendices K2b and S3; Tralleis: see appendix Y5; at Sagalassos (west side of Upper Agora, 2nd phase): appendix Y2; Patara: appendix Y5; Rome (south side of Basilica Julia): appendix X1a; Jerusalem (cardo extension): appendix C3. 118  Doors, single leaf: Aphrodisias (Sebasteion): appendix Y8; Sardis: Y4. Doors, double-leaf: at Ephesus (Alytarch Stoa): appendix Y5; Ephesus (Upper Embolos): C3; at Sardis: Y8; at Perge (tetragonal agora): K2b; at Side: Y5. Open without threshold?: Jerusalem (cardo extension): appendix C3; Alexandria: A10. I have not carried out a systematic study of door types, as it did not seem important to me when I visited sites. 119  Slotted thresholds and other blocks: MacMahon (2003) 91–99 and Schoevart (2013). 120  Threshold blocks: raised at Ostia e.g., on the Via di Diana, see Gering (2004) 346–49 with fig. 27 n. 114, dated to around AD 300 (thanks to coins). South of Case a Giardino: Gering (2002) 129–36 with figs. 12, 14, 18, 19 (repaired at the end of 3rd c.; a coin of Aurelian gives a terminus post quem); new at Scupi sometime in 312.5–337.5: appendix C3.

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figure g10

Shops with collective barrel vaults: Ephesus, Lower Agora and Patara

399

400 bailing of water ‘using tubs and pitchers and sponges’, as shopkeepers tried to avoid goods being spoiled.121 Many, though not all, rows of cellular shops were of course fronted by a portico, especially those built within the 4th to 6th c., in both East and West. They are absent in only 7 cases of new shop construction, excluding those built within existing porticoes. Such un-porticoed shops were generally built on agorai, often part of short ‘parades’ of cellular units fitting into pre-existing spaces. In contrast, those with porticoes were generally built on great long avenues.122 As has been discussed in the chapter on streets, porticoes were of varied width, usually between 2 m and 5 m. Shops built within a preexisting portico, as secondary subdivisions, obviously removed this advantage, although, as described earlier, at Sagalassos a light wooden porch, perhaps supporting a brushwood or cloth superstructure, was added to the front of a subdivided portico, suggesting that shade was still very much appreciated.123 This was a very innovative arrangement: most of the architectural details of cellular units from Late Antiquity are unsurprising: they confirm that the shops were built in the 6th and early 7th c. largely to the same design as those of the 2nd c. AD, or indeed of the 2nd c. BC. They persisted in being structures that were well-suited to commerce and amenable to shoppers, often being built as the result of a collective design, rather than as piecemeal developments. Decoration It is important to consider the decoration of shops, as these too reveal traces of both collective organisation and individual initiative, in construction or occupation. At Sardis, individual shops show great variety in their window types, doorsills, and floor materials, although they are set within a row that shared a common front wall and a portico. At some other sites, rows of rooms seem to be almost identically fitted, as in Scythopolis Sigma A. Yet even here, not all the shops were given

121  Low entrances and flooding of street: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Ep. 1 ad Tim. 13.3 (PG 62.568). 122  Porticoes graced newly built shops at Ostia, Justiniana Prima, Aizanoi, Ephesus (Arcadiane), Sagalassos (Upper Agora), Sardis, Scythopolis, and Jerusalem. They were absent from Herdonia, Iasos, Metropolis, Ephesus (shops by the Temple of Domitian), Aphrodisias (shops by the Basilica), Sagalassos (Lower Agora, south and west side; Upper Agora, last divisions on the west side), Ariassos (units in stoa—perhaps not shops), Arykanda (Upper Agora and shops below the Main Baths). For references, see appendix Y1–Y5. 123  Possible late wooden portico in front of shops, at Sagalassos: Lavan (2013a) 303–305, 347.

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mosaic floors.124 Of other decorations to shops, only a few well-preserved sites can provide details, supplemented by texts. Shop façades occasionally show evidence of collective decoration. There are frescoes, as at Ephesus and Apamea, where they included garlands, imitation marble panels, and a possible representation of a noria. There is also marble veneer, as there was on the front walls of the Scythopolis sigma shops.125 As here, such decoration might have been a component part in a planned construction of a row of shops. Alternatively, it might reflect a civic requirement, for private owners to decorate their façades in a comparable manner. This requirement existed for stalls in the porticoes of the Mese at Constantinople.126 As discussed in the previous chapter, floor decoration outside of shops strongly reveals collective arrangements, with mosaics as well as tile and stone pavements being installed for whole porticoes. Some are truly spectacular and represent a great luxury, exceeding the decoration of shopping areas in earlier periods.127 Collective decoration suggests either that porticoes were private space under a single owner or that they were public space controlled by the city. Julian of Ascalon, drawing together different traditions in 6th c. Palestine, confirms that porticoes in front of shops were subject to both public and private rights. Adjacent shop occupants had rights to use the space and paid the greatest part of the expenses for their portico’s repair, shared with anyone occupying an upper storey or roof space. Julian notes that the city is responsible for the superstructure of the portico (column, capital, base etc.), whilst other texts suggest this extended to day-to-day maintenance, for which shop owners were liable to pay.128 Thus, the painting of shop doors at Antioch was compelled by governors, but paid for by resident artisans, in the later 4th c., as part of a raft of obligations on shopkeepers related to the maintenance of their street. This might not prevent officials claiming the credit: portico 124  Fittings and decoration: Sardis: Stephens Crawford (1990) 8–9. Scythopolis: L. Lavan site observation 1998, and Khamis (2007) 448, on mosaic floor in both shops and portico, citing Mazor and Bar-Nathan (1994) 130–32 (in Hebrew); (1996) 1–34 (in Hebrew). See also appendix X2. 125  Shop façades, Ephesus (Alytarch Stoa) frescoes: appendix C4; Apamea, painted façade: appendix C5; Scythopolis Sigma A: Bar-Nathan and Mazor (1992) 43–44, with X2. 126  Collective decoration: Constantinople, stalls on the Mese: Cod. Iust. 8.10.12.6 (Zeno). Such a requirement might of course have been commuted to a compulsory payment for works carried out by the city. 127  Portico mosaics: see appendix C6a–c. 128  Right of shop owners to use porticoes: Julian of Ascalon, Treatise 36–37. Other legislation on public ownership of porticoes: Saliou (2005) 212–18 (transgressions and alienation of portico space).

Markets and Shops

mosaics were dedicated by a pater civitatis at Side and at Perge, by a governor at Scythopolis, and by a bishop at Sepphoris. We cannot know if these were donations. Civic funds were likely used in some cases, but the example of the comes Modestus at Antioch, building a street portico using corvée labour, suggests that such acts might well have been funded by a levy on artisans.129 In any case, this collective action was clearly to the benefit and cost of shopkeepers who were expected to occupy rooms off porticoes. Internal decoration of shops does not exhibit patterns of collective control to the same extent. It is probably too much to talk of individualised decoration, but the difference between interior walls and the exterior walls fronting shops is noticeable. At Sardis, a fresco has been detected inside one shop. The north wall was divided into three sections separated by vermillion lines, with a bottom horizontal black line. The panels included vase-like ornaments with tendrils, yellowy faux-marble, and ‘baskets’ of flowers. A painted inscription was also found, fallen on the floor. In another shop, white plaster was present, with some fragments revealing a red on white design, with a vermillion rosebud. At Ephesus, inside the Alytarch Stoa, there is extensive survival of wallplaster: this is mainly of a white background with red lines around the edges and forming the walls into rough panels, with geometric and floral designs alongside figural and Christian motifs, such as a jewelled cross and birds. At Gerasa, the three shops inserted to block the macellum entrance produced plaster fragments indicating stucco painted in red and white. The decoration recovered from Cirencester is clearly outside the tradition of white plaster with red lines: the shops at Leaholme House produced wall plaster of red, white, and green panels, separated by white lines, plus red panels with yellow and white floral motifs, alongside imitation marbling of light grey, with red and black blobs on a white background.130 Floors are the most varied elements within shops, often being very different within establishments in the same row. There is little, but not much, regional coherence. In Britain, a row of shops at Cirencester had floor in clay, but also floors of stone, rubble, mortar, and mortar supporting wooden joists. In the Balkans, at 129  Dedications of portico mosaics: see appendix C6a–c. On Modestus’ colonnade see: Lib. Ep. (Bradbury edition 68 / Foerster 242) (summer of AD 359, which reveals the portico close to completion) and Lib. Ep. (Norman edition 68 / Foerster 196). On door painting, street lighting, and sewer cleaning by shop-keepers, see streets chapter, with appendix C5. 130  Internal decoration, fresco: Sardis: appendix Y5; Ephesus (Alytarch Stoa): Y5; Cirencester (Leaholme House): Y6. Gerasa: (painted stucco): Y5.

401 Justiniana Prima, on the east-west colonnaded street, the shops floors were of brick or stone slabs, but were replaced by beaten earth floors over time, as they were on the north-south colonnaded street, having been initially of pebbles and perhaps of bricks. At Thessalonica, broken marble was mixed with tiles. At Athens, marble was also used for a shop refurbished on the Panathenaic Way, in the later 6th to early 7th c. At Constantinople, in the Justinianic rebuild of the Lower Mese, the floors are sometimes of brick and sometimes of marble slabs. In Asia Minor, at Ephesus, inside the Alytarch Stoa, the shop floors are of brick or reused marble slabs, except where earlier stone slabs survive, creating great diversity from one shop to another. Reused stone slabs are also present in shop floors on the Arcadiane. One shop on the Upper Embolos, restored in Late Antiquity, had a floor of clay, whereas those on the Clivus Sacer of the same city seem to have been in gravel. At Sagalassos, late shop floors are also composed of mixed materials: beaten earth, beaten earth / mortar, or tiles in the same porticoed row, whilst beaten earth was found in all shops in a row at Aphrodisias. In the Near East, at Caesarea Philippi, on an unmonumental street, shop floors were again of beaten earth mixed with lime, or variants without one or the other. At Scythopolis, in Sigma A, they are of brick, crushed limestone or mosaic, but in another row they are all of beaten earth. Those at Beirut were in mosaic or pebbles and plaster, within the same row, whilst those at Sepphoris were of plaster. Finally, those at Gerasa were in green clay. Thus, we can see some regional variation: whilst beaten earth and clay can be found widely, high quality materials such as marble, even when reused, look to be most prevalent in Constantinople and the Aegean. However, even here, brick was frequent, sometimes mixed in with reused marble. The interior of Asia Minor again shows a preference for earth floors, detected earlier in the porticoes of agorai. In this region and others, excavators often record floor levels without reporting what the material was, implying that beaten earth was quite common. The Near East was not exempt from using the humblest of floor materials, indicating that an artisan might prefer one type of floor, even in this richest of regions, perhaps to suit certain productive processes. Single rows of shops with a variety of materials are seen in all regions where we have records. This suggests that floor materials were the choice of individual occupants or of those who rented or owned part of a row. Standards do not seem to have been imposed by city authorities. The variety visible within cities is also striking. There are some rows that are better appointed than others, irrespective of the mixed professions they housed. This may in part reflect the differing means of artisans in a mixed commercial

402 landscape, perhaps reflected in the prices of their rents.131 There are some traces of decoration for commercial purposes. At Apamea, the façade was painted with a tariff list for young and old wines: goods for sale either on stalls, or within the shops.132 Chrysostom mentions shop signs that were gilded, though none have so far been recovered.133 Other signs were religious in nature: we hear from Theodoret of images of St. Symeon Stylites the Elder, who became so well-known that small portraits of him were ‘set up on a column at the entrances of every shop’ at Rome, a practice echoing treatment of paintings of Marcus Aurelius.134 Inscribed symbols of religious identity have survived on columns in front of shops: single crosses were carved at Sagalassos and Aphrodisias, and menorahs at Aphrodisias, presumably to distinguish owners of different faiths.135 This is unsurprising when we consider the prevalence of Jewish artisans seen in the Copper Market at Constantinople, in shops at 7th c. Sardis, or in the Emesan tales of St. Symeon the Fool.136 Internal Organisation The design and decoration of shops tells us of collective planning and enduring confidence in their design. Their internal spatial organisation reveals more about their commercial function. It is difficult to reconstruct the interiors of most shops, as unfortunately we have only a few depictions of the interiors and only a small number 131  Floors: Sagalassos (beaten earth, mortar or tiles): appendix Y2; Scythopolis (Sigma 1, brick, crushed limestone or mosaic): X2; Ephesus (Alytarch Stoa, brick, reused marble): Y5; Beirut (mosaic, pebbles, plaster): Y6; Sepphoris (plaster): Y5; Gerasa (green clay): Y5; Cirencester (clay, stone, rubble, mortar, wood): Y6; Justiniana Prima (brick, stone, pebbles, beaten earth): Y4; Constantinople (lower Mese, brick, marble): appendix C3; Athens (Panathenaic Way, marble): C5; Ephesus (Upper Embolos, clay): C3; Thessalonica (marble, tiles): 350– 75; Aphrodisias (Sebasteion, beaten earth): Y8; Scythopolis (Monuments Street, beaten earth): Y6. 132  Wine price list, Apamea: Balty (1981) 78. 133  Shop signs: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Hebr. 28.6 (PG 63.200): ταῖς προθήκαις ταῖς ἐπὶ τῶν ἐργαστηρίων. Late antique equivalents of the ceramic shop signs known from Ostia have not so far been identified: see Descoeudres (2001) 415–17, with the most recent literature on this topic. 134  Images of St. Symeon Stylites at Rome: Theod. Hist. Rel. 26 (Canivet and Leroy-Molinghen (1977–79). Imperial paintings: Marcus Aurelius. Correspondence with Fronto 14, in Haines (1919–20). 135  Crosses carved outside shops at Sagalassos: Lavan (2013a) 339, 347–48. Crosses and menorahs at Aphrodisias: L. Lavan site observation 2005. 136  Jewish artisan class seen in shops: Constantinople: Patria 3.32; Sardis: Crawford (1990) 17–18; Emesa: v. Sym. part 4, pp. 154, 163, written about 6th c. Emesa, but perhaps better reflecting its 7th c. composition on Cyprus.

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of textual descriptions; for many shops we have neither. However, from the combination of these sources with architectural and stratigraphic evidence, we can envisage a number of zones found inside most workshops that were strongly related to their commercial function. These zones would be areas of product display and sale, of product storage, of product manufacture, and, where relevant (as in the case of restaurants), of product consumption, set alongside domestic occupation. Here, I must confess that my knowledge is not systematic, as I have looked mainly at shops either constructed or repaired in Late Antiquity, rather than at shops from previous centuries, which contain late antique artefactual or waste traces, being occupied in the period. Product display is not as well-supported as it is for the Early Imperial period, where tomb reliefs provide a great amount of information. We are more reliant on archaeology for Late Antiquity. Shelves are one way to handle restricted space, attested by wall sockets, nails in walls, and the presence of metal suspension devices. Archaeological remains of shelves found at Sagalassos and Scythopolis testify to their popularity.137 Niches set into walls, as at Sardis, Ephesus, Sagalassos, and Side, also held shelves, indicated by slots. These were ideal cupboards for product display (see fig. G11): they were used for storing wares for sale in a 2nd c. catacomb fresco from Hadrumetum, depicting a glass shop. Niche cup­boards at Ephesus were sometime marblelined, making it easy to clean them.138 Both cupboards and projecting shelves were perhaps more widespread than we imagine, as shop walls rarely survive to a good height. Certain product types could probably just be displayed standing on the ground, like the statues found in the sculptor’s workshop at Aphrodisias. A big part of product display likely took place not in dark shops, but in front of them, in the open air: Julian of Ascalon and imperial legislators both anticipated that shops would have use of the portico space in front of their premises, perhaps on payment of a fee.139 Urban authorities seem 137  Shelves: Sardis: appendix Y4; Sagalassos (Lower Agora west portico): Y2; Sagalassos (Lower Agora east portico): Putzeys (2007) 248; Scythopolis (Sigma shops): Khamis (2007) 449; Bar-Nathan and Mazor (1992) 30–46, with X2. 138  Niches set into walls: at Sardis (16, sometimes two per shop): Y4; Sagalassos (in two shops: one is an arched recess, not a small niche): Y2, Y3; Ephesus (Arcadiane, east end, north shops): three niches, one arched niche, with shelves: C3; Ephesus (Alytarch Stoa): two niches with evidence of shelves and marble revetment: Y5; Side, shops on the street of the episkopeion may have been set with shelves: L. Lavan site observation 2004. 139  Use of portico space by shop owners: Julian of Ascalon, Treatise 36. 37.1. Saliou (2005) 214–21 sees an echo of such use in late imperial legislation and later Islamic law.

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403

figure g11 Internal fixtures of late antique shops (top, left to right, then bottom left to right): Ostia, bar counter; Ephesus, cupboards; Side, counter with vat for holding liquids; Sardis, basin

to have been sensitive about goods left on the street, as revealed by laws against this included in the Digest. The only exceptions were for fullers, who were permitted to dry cloth outside their premises, and cartwrights, who were allowed to keep their work on the street.140 But it seems likely that at least some pavement stalls were connected to adjacent shops: the topos inscriptions at Sagalassos suggest this, as discussed above. Display was more complex for restaurants, where it was wound up together with consumption. Many eateries were found along urban avenues and on squares, probably because they needed a high volume of customers. Counters facing onto the street from this period, with cavities within, perhaps for charcoals to cook food or store liquids, are known in Italy, at Ostia (see fig. G11) and Lucus Feroniae. In other regions, such installations are rare, but do exist: a bar was erected within a portico outside a shop at Ephesus, on the Upper Embolos, 140  Fullers and cartwrights: Dig. 43.10.1.4.

and within shops at Cyrene and Abu Mina. At Emesa, Symeon the Fool warmed himself next to the fire of the thermopolion, while sitting outside of it, having been expelled by the occupants. From his seat he was able to reach in and take a coal, suggesting a similar open counter.141 Presumably, the closed frontages of eastern shops encouraged restaurants to bring food out onto tables on the streets, like the pastry chefs in Symeon’s story. Restaurants also required some furniture for product consumption: for this, we can rely only on two scenes in the Yakto mosaic; these show couches for eating, as distinct from chairs and a table which are being used for gaming, though a relief from Ostia of the 141  Counters: Ostia: Gering (2004) figs. 49 (red), 53, and nn. 48, 58, 60, 73, 129, 154; and Bakker (1994), catalogue of bars and brothels. Schoevart (2013) Texte 84–94, 381–83 and Annexes 34–42 figs. 55–83. Lucus Feroniae: Torelli (1982) 34; Ephesus (Upper Embolos): appendix C3; Ephesus (Alytarch Stoa, possible): Y5; Abu Mina: appendix C3; Cyrene: Y2; Emesa: v. Sym. part 4, p. 151.

404 second half of the 3rd c. shows a tavern with drinkers sitting at a table.142 Low benches are sometimes found by excavation, as at Ostia, Sardis, Ephesus, Aphrodisias (Sebasteion), Sagalassos, and Scythopolis (Sigma Plaza A), which have been used, in conjunction with other evidence, to suggest restaurants.143 Product manufacture also finds its reflection in specialised fixtures and fittings, such as kilns, ovens, stoves, and basins. A glass furnace was set at the back of a late shop at Aphrodisias. In contrast, a furnace for blowing glass, seen by Symeon the Fool at Emesa, was visible from the road, and beggars were able to warm themselves there.144 Vats were found at Gerasa, alongside basalt and marble mortaria, suggesting dye-shops. The same trade has also been identified at Sardis, from mortaria and raw materials, but without vats. Indeed, basins and tanks are usually taken as evidence of fullonicae, as most recently in the shops of Beirut, although one at Sardis occurs within shops identified as a restaurant.145 Whilst it is tempting to think that such a fixture might suggest earlier uses of the space, we can identify some tanks that likely held liquids for sale to customers: at Side, a basin with adjacent cistern / tank was raised to counter height and faced onto a street, suggesting it might have been used as a dispensing point for water (see fig. G11). A comparable stone tank, set on the street frontage, is visible at Lucus Feroniae. However, elsewhere, such tanks are situated at the back of shops, as at Sagalassos, on the northsouth colonnaded street, and at Sardis (see fig. G11), being more convincingly associated with production.146 These establishments seem unlikely to be fullonicae, 142   Tavern scene from Ostia, Isola Sacra: Ostia Antiquarium inv. 135. 143  Benches: Ostia (Piazzale d C): appendix Y8; Ostia (Thermopolion): A3, outside the shop; Sardis (E1, E3, E3, E4, E6, W3): Stephens Crawford (1990) figs. 60, 110, 160, 198, 207 with Y4; Ephesus (Embolos, middle section, east side): C3; Sagalassos (macellum): W1; Sagalassos (Upper Agora): Y2; Scythopolis (Sigma A): X2: Scythopolis (Monuments Street): Agady (2002) 432 (possible bench); Aphrodisias (Sebasteion): Y8; Aphrodisias (north-south street by Basilica): C3. 144  Glass furnaces: Aphrodisias (Sebasteion): appendix Y8; Emesa: v. Sym. part 4, 163; Alexandria, furnace set against a wall in a shop / selling space open to the street, not much wider than it: Rodziewicz (1984) 250–51. 145  Basins for fullonicae identification: Uscatescu (1994); De Ruyt (2001) 186–91; Barbet et al. (2001) 140. Specifically, on Beirut tanks: American University of Beirut, “Module 3: The Byzantine Portico and Shops,” Windows on the Souk, http:// ddc.aub.edu.lb/projects/archaeology/soukex/deliverables/ module03.html (accessed July 2010). 146  Tanks: Side: L. Lavan site observations 2005; Lucus Feroniae: L. Lavan site observations, April 2016; Sagalassos: niche with a water supply at its base, closed by a stone slab on the side facing the room: appendix Y2; Sardis: Y4 with Stephens Crawford (1990) 23–33, commented on by Harris (2004) 94–97;

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as identified at Thamugadi, Ostia, or elsewhere: these have a far greater number of basins. Nevertheless, the prevalence of shops at Sardis which have basins suggests some kind of industrial process, perhaps partly connected to cloth processing, which the adjacent dye shops complemented.147 Product manufacture for edibles again gives us a specialised set of installations. Mills and ovens could both be found in bakeries, as in 4th c. Ostia. Here bakeries were mainly organised as large-scale units, quasifactories rather than shops. Alternatively, they might be organised in rows of one-oven tabernae, as at Cirencester (Corinium), Thessalonica (in two shops, perhaps more), and Hierapolis (in two shops).148 Yet small singletaberna units with only one oven are known at Ostia, Sabratha, Justiniana Prima (twice), Sagalassos (inside a macellum), and Beirut. At the first three sites, ovens occur in combination with either dough-mixers or grain mills, making bakeries likely. In other cases, the ovens may have had a domestic function.149 At Sepphoris and Pella, bread ovens (tabuns) were found out on the portico or on the street in front of shops, suggesting a regional adaption to the problem of excessive heat.150 Platforms, perhaps for preparing hot food (cooked on charcoal), have been found, in shops lining main streets at Sardis, Side, and Antioch in Pisidia, unfortunately without the Uscatescu (1994) 128–32. Other tanks: Justiniana Prima: Y4; Ephesus (Alytarch Stoa): Y5. 147  Fullonicae at Thamugadi: no dating evidence is currently available, but they are thought to be late antique from the general urban context: Wilson (2002) 237–41. More generally, see Uscatescu (1994). 148  Bakeries, large-scale: Ostia: Region 1, Insula 13: Molino (I.xiii.4) and Region 2, Insula 6: Caseggiato delle Fornaci (II. vi.7): see Bakker (1999) 74–75, 87, surviving into the 4th c. according to Bakker who apparently bases his dating on masonry technique typical of this period (coarse modifications in opus latericium and vittatum); Cirencester: see Wacher (1962) 1–14, at 11, ovens where the excavator believed they were too small for bread ovens, though there was no metal residue; Thessalonica: large ovens in two shops perhaps more, appendix Y6; Hierapolis: it is possible that ovens in two shops are connected to pottery manufacture occurring behind them, appendix Y7. 149  Bakeries, single-taberna with one oven: Ostia (Sigma Plaza): a small bakery survived the installation of the sigma exedra on the decumanus, marked by a millstone and round brick cavity, perhaps used as an oven: Gering (2004) 326–42 and appendix X2; Sabratha: the bakery with 2 ‘dough-mixers’ and a possible oven must postdate the dismantling of the apse of the Forum East Temple in Region 2: Wilson (1999) 48; Justiniana Prima (two examples): circular oven and hand mill: see appendix A5c; possible oven: Y4; Sagalassos (inside a macellum shop): W1; Beirut: Y6. In some cases, as at Beirut, it is not certain if the oven was used for baking for sale. It may have been a domestic oven. 150  Tabuns, on portico edge or on street: Sepphoris: appendix Y5; Pella: Y5.

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support of finds to confirm their function.151 At Xanthos, a cooking platform survives at the back of a shop, complete with traces of a ceramic grill, set within a niche.152 Storage will have taken a variable amount of space, depending on the trade concerned, and on how quickly bulky products were sold; otherwise, the shelves and tables themselves may have sufficed. However, a second story or mezzanine would have also been useful, especially if it could be kept rat-free. Sometimes storage did not require specialised facilities: a back room at the ‘hardware store’ at Sardis was used for this purpose, whilst another at Gerasa was used for storing charcoal for a blacksmith.153 Raw materials might alternatively be stocked within the shop itself: as with dumps of bronze for recycling at Scythopolis, and of raw glass, for blowing into vessels, at Alexandria.154 Archaeological evidence for food storage comes from dolia / pithoi, often found in the floors of shops—examples come from shops at Ostia, Justiniana Prima, Hierapolis, Antioch in Pisidia, Sagalassos, Side, Patara, Beirut, and Gerasa. They are set within counters built in reused brick at Lucus Feroniae, and also in the back rooms of the same shops.155 Large numbers of dolia—such as those in the ‘wine factory’ at Barcelona—may indicate a specialised warehouse (for ageing wine) rather than just storage for sale.156 Other small underground cavities are known in shops: at Ephesus, one of the late units of the Arcadiane / theatre square had an underground space with a round manhole; at Xanthos, the thermopolion by the theatre had 151  Platforms: Sardis: appendix Y5 in two shops, one thought to be for washing; Side: Y5; Aphrodisias (Sebasteion): Y8, but some are part of staircases; Antioch in Pisidia: L. Lavan site observation 2005. 152  Cooking platform, Xanthos: Manière-Lévêque (2007a) 473–94. 153  Backroom storage, Sardis (hardware store): Stephens Crawford (1990) 74, with appendix Y4; Gerasa (charcoal): Y6. Lucus Feroniae (dolia): Y1. 154   Storage within shops, Scythopolis: Khamis (2007) 456; Foerster and Tsafrir (1993) 3–29, at 20 (in Hebrew); Alexandria: Rodziewicz (1984). 155  Dolia / pithoi: Ostia (thermopolium): Hermansen (1981) 131–32; see also Gering (forthcoming) 270–87; Justiniana Prima: Y4; Hierapolis: Y7; Antioch in Pisidia: Y2; Sagalassos: Y7; Side, along main street: L. Lavan site observation 2004; Patara: two in one shop: Y5; Beirut: Perring (2003) 217, notes mid 5th to early 6th c. alterations involving the insertion of dolia in the shops, without giving further details; Gerasa, pithos in floor of taberna 20 outside macellum: Uscatescu and Martín- Bueno (1997) 81; Lucus Feroniae: Y1. 156   Wine storage with dolia: Barcelona: Beltràn de Heredia Bercero (2002) 70 n. 7, dated by two amphorae used as containers set in the floor of the wine cellar of Dressel 23/ Keay XIII type, the other a small Dressel 20. This suggests that the winery was in use in the second half of the 3rd c. or early 4th c. and may date from around this time: see appendix A7a.

405 cavities cut into the rock floor which probably served to refrigerate food.157 Objects The objects present within shops could reflect both production and retail. Very occasionally, distinctive professional tools have been located by excavations in shops, such as hooks and needles relating to the repair of nets at later 4th c. Egnatia, or the metals tools for marble carving from the 4th c. sculptor’s workshop at Aphrodisias, or the blowing tubes and unworked glass from a 3rd–5th c. glass workshop at Thasos. A leatherworker has been detected from the same block of shops by tools such as shearing knives, punches etc. Tralleis has produced large quantities of bone needles and awls, along with terracotta loom weights, from shops thus identified as textile producers. Most interesting of all, perhaps, are the 6th c. shops at Justiniana Prima, where moulds for belt buckles have been found in association with tools for leather working. The latter assemblage reveals that a compound trades could exist, producing all parts of complex goods with many components (leather belts), for sale at the point of contact with the customer. We must imagine all these tools in use within shops, as production took place in an intimate setting, potentially in view of those who had ordered products or wished to adjust them. A particularly rich haul of ‘tools’ comes from the restaurants at Sagalassos, Pisidian Antioch, Cyrene, Sardis, and Scythopolis. These latter sites have produced platters, kitchen implements, and serving vessels for hot wine, alongside glass goblets, animal bones, shells, and charcoal (Sardis) or a bronze crater, a ladle, two bronze spits (Antioch).158 Such objects evoke the tavern where Symeon the Fool worked, carrying hot water, probably for diluting wine, which was stored in jars at the back of the premises.159 Occupation deposits producing tools are exceptional, often being the result of sudden abandonment or destruction. In any case, they produce distinctive traces for only a very few trades. For other professions, we are dependent on depictions to know anything at all about different tool groups. From late antique depictions we can see into: a tavern (at Ostia and at Antioch); a carpenter’s workshop (Alexandrian 157  Underground cavities: Ephesus, east end of Arcadiane, north side: L. Lavan site observation 2005; Xanthos, thermopolion: Manière-Lévêque (2007a). 158  Professional tools, sculptor at Aphrodisias: Rockwell (1991) 127–43; glass at Thasos: appendix W3 (with also crucibles and moulds for a bronze working establishment); metalworking at Justiniana Prima: Popovič (1990) 269–98. Belt making: Ivanišević (2018). Restaurants of Sagalassos, Antioch in Pisidia, Cyrene, Sardis, and Scythopolis: see Putzeys and Lavan (2007) 97–100, with appendices Y3, Y2, Y2, Y4. 159  Tavern of Emesa : v. Sym. part 4, pp. 152, 157.

406 ivory); a blacksmith’s (on a textile); a painter’s studio, and a school (Vienna Dioscurides).160 These simple images may represent an inherited iconographic type rather than late antique life. However, overall similarities in architecture and material culture found within shops makes it likely that Early Imperial depictions from tombs represent an artisanal world very close to that of Late Antiquity.161 The similarities in details of commerce between such early depictions and traders shown in the Yakto mosaic (tables for cutting meat, containers for holding bread) further support this view.162 Of other artefacts linked to production, it is wise to anticipate the presence of raw materials or waste. Of raw materials, there are the dye traces found in suspected tinctoria at Sardis and Gerasa, or the charcoal found at Rome and Gerasa for blacksmiths’ workshops. Of waste, we might mention the droplets of glass found at Aphrodisias, Beirut, and Delphi, glass wasters and slag at Thasos, the hammer scale from Sagalassos, which like Rome and Thasos had hearth slags, left over from forging. Thasos’ shops have also revealed the waste produced by a stone veneer cutter. One thinks here of the sculptor’s stone fragments from Aphrodisias.163 Even though such traces might make up a small part of the assemblage from a shop, their value as evidential markers is high. The stratigraphic invisibility of most professions should always be kept in mind: the presence of domestic artefacts, from the families of those artisans who slept in the shops, should not negate the significance of distinctive professional items. Thus, Harris goes too far in suggesting that the presence of domestic items and just a few professional items (rather than coherent retail assemblages) indicates the house of an artisan rather than his workplace. She is perhaps too optimistic about the readability of the material record, given the number of professions which escape material detection entirely.164 160  Depictions of taverns, at Ostia, (late 3rd c. AD): Museo delle Navi, inv. 1340; at Antioch: Yakto mosaic. Blacksmith’s workshop: Coptic textile, 6th c.: London, Victoria and Albert Museum inv. 2140–1900. Carpenter’s workshop in Alexandrian ivory (3rd or 4th c.): Princeton inv. y1956–105. Painter and a medical school: Vienna Dioscurides (fols. 5v, 3v), early 6th c. The school represented is that of Galen, while the metal workshop is a representation of Hephaistus. 161  Early Imperial depictions: e.g., Zimmer (1982). 162  Similarities between Yakto details and earlier images: Putzeys (2006) 213–18. 163  Raw materials and waste: Putzeys and Lavan (2007) 85–93, plus appendix Y4 (Sardis), Y5 (Gerasa), K2a (Rome), (Gerasa), T1b (Ephesus), Y8 (Aphrodisias, glass), (Beirut), Y2 (Delphi), W3 (Thasos). 164  Domestic artefacts, Sardis: Stephens Crawford (1990) 12–106, 135–50 with figures, re-examined by Harris (2004) 92–120. See also Putzeys (2007) 332 and 325 (rooms 2 and 4 of western portico), 377 (room 5 of north-east building).

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Yet, it is unsurprising to find domestic assemblages in a shop context: as noted earlier, we have several examples of owners sleeping in their shops. However, Libanius would not have dreamed of sleeping in the shop where he held his first school at Antioch, and neither would a silversmith.165 Objects associated with selling have been found more widely than those associated with production. Steelyards and balances, found in late shops at Thasos, Sardis, Sagalassos, and Scythopolis, or in late shop deposits at Caesarea Philippi, would have permitted precise quantities to be sold, when used with the weights described recently by Cécile Morrisson and Brigitte Pitarakis.166 As Pitarakis notes, civic stone tables for measuring quantities seem to have disappeared. Even so, a building for weighing objects was repaired at Antioch in Pisidia, probably in the 4th c.167 Within shops and stalls, an essential fitting for supporting sales was a cashbox. Symeon used one when selling food from his stall, at Emesa, revealing that even a fast-food restaurant was engaging in monetised commerce. However, when working in a tavern in the same city, Symeon was paid in food rather than cash.168 Finds of very small denomination bronze coins are very frequent in shops when compared with other types of structure. Such coins were also found concentrated around the market stalls of Iol Caesarea, suggesting that this association is due to commerce.169 We must also not forget finished products, which, although lacking from most sites, were arguably the most important object type for the majority of shops. Thus, we find: pins, needles, and tokens from bone working at Rodez; bone, antler, shell, and ivory objects at Thasos; glass weights with monograms in a workshop in Ephesus; glass stock and massive numbers of locks for sale at

165  Sleeping in shops: see n. 82, above; Antioch, school in shop: Lib. Or. 1.101–4. On the social status of silversmiths, see Sodini (1979) 94–97. Wealthier shop owners may have left a slave to guard their goods overnight. 166  Balances and weights in shops along the road by the agora at Thasos: J.-Y. Marc, pers. comm. Steelyards, Sardis (E5, E7, E13, E14, E16): Stephens Crawford (1990) 58 and figs. 235–37, 64 and fig. 306, 84 and fig. 412, 88 and fig. 468, 94 and fig. 476; Scythopolis: Khamis (2007) 458–59; Sagalassos, Lower Agora, east portico shops: Putzeys (2007) 272. Balances, at Caesarea Philippi: appendix Y5. In general, see Pitarakis (2012) 407–416 and Morrisson (2012) 380–89. 167   Antioch in Pisidia, zygostasion (weighing building): inscription dated after 3rd c. (on the basis of the letter form of omicron and the fact that a local man was acting as logistès), perhaps to the 4th c.; see, with references: Mitchell and Waelkens (1998) 226, no. 9. 168  Cashbox at Emesa: v. Sym. part 4, p. 151; food payment: p. 152. 169  Coins in shops, high frequency: C. Morrisson, pers. com­m. Stalls and coin finds, Iol Caesarea: Potter (1995) 36–39.

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Sardis; and stored tablewares from Gerasa.170 These rare examples of stock, from amongst thousands of shops occupied in Late Antiquity, reveal the fragmentary nature of our knowledge, and how much we are reliant on analogy and imagination to fill our workshops with the variety of material culture which they once held. Overall Assessment The above description will probably serve to polarise opinions about the identification of cellular units as shops. Proponents of a positive identification will see here conclusive evidence of their commercial character. Revisionists, who see shops as houses, may be less convinced: they will note many cellular rooms empty of fixtures and fittings, without distinctive artefactual traces of retail. My summary will perhaps seem to them like an artful presentation of the facts to support one side of the argument. However, if we admit that our evidence is both fragmentary and complex, and that a conclusion cannot be achieved from simply adding it all up, then it is possible to make a judgment on the balance of the evidence. For me, this should be that rows of cellular units constructed along main avenues and public squares in Late Antiquity were built as specialised commercial structures. They were sometimes constructed in a single coordinated build with unified decoration (as at Scythopolis). Alternatively, they might be built without unified decoration, but within a single architectural conception (as at Sardis). The continuity of a homogeneous design, perfectly adapted to retail, suggests great confidence in cellular shops, and probably a cultural consensus (if not a hard rule) among civic authorities about how they should be laid out. These units could have been occupied as houses, but cellular rows were not a preferred house design away from the main avenues. In 18th and 19th c. Britain, cellular houses could be found well away from the main roads, in back courts as well as side streets: this is not true of cellular units in 4th to 6th c. cities, which are concentrated in very public areas. Furthermore, the types of fittings, though perhaps occasionally found in houses (the odd basin or cooking platform), occur with a frequency in cellular units that suggests something different. The same can be said of the material culture found here, which, while often dominated by domestic finds, contains distinctive traces of raw materials, tools, and production waste not normally found in houses. Finally, the textual, epigraphic, and pictorial evidence (from the Yakto mosaic) seems to clinch the argument. Nothing would have stopped someone from living in a shop without exercising a trade, but, as will be described 170   Finished products: Rodez (appendix V4b), Thasos (W3), Ephesus (T1b), Sardis (Y4), Gerasa (Y5).

below, the fact that they continued to be built into the early 7th c., and maintained to the same design, suggests that demand for cellular units as shops remained high in eastern city centres. The Building and Repair of Shops My analysis of shops leads to a dull conclusion: overwhelming continuity with the Roman past. This seems confirmed by the record of repair, as well as new building (Map 16c). Older shops were repaired or embellished on fora / agorai at 6 occasions at 5 sites in the West and 5 occasions at 5 sites in the East: in Britain, at Lincoln [twice, 200–300, 250–350, renewed shop floors]; in Italy, at Lucus Feroniae [250–544.5 bar counters], Paestum [250–544.5 thresholds raised & rebuilding], Herdonia [346–400 rebuilt & enlarged]; in Sardinia, at Forum Traiani [200–400 frescoes]; in the Balkans, at Dyrrachium [530–55 reconstructed*] and Thracian Philippopolis [244–400 thresholds raised]; in Asia Minor, at Ephesus (tetragonal agora) [550–610 façades rebuilt], Perge (tetragonal agora) [east rooms made into two-storey vaulted chambers 250–614], and Side (tetragonal agora) [5 units rebuilt, 250–614]. Shops were repaired or embellished on streets on 8 occasions at 4 sites in the West and on 9 occasions at 6 sites in the East: in Britain, at Cirencester [on 4 separate occasions in 287–312, 395–420, 345–430, 388–413, mainly floors]; in Italy, at Lucus Feroniae [250–544.5 rebuilding], Ostia [twice, 250–75, 346–89 thresholds raised], and Herdonia [346–400 rebuilt and enlarged]; in the Balkans, at Thessalonica [350–75 wall rebuilt]; in Asia Minor, at Ephesus [four times, 250–436 buttress, 410–436 refaced, 410–641 three shops refloored, replastered etc., 305–614 refaced*]; in the Levant, at Beirut [507–51, new floors, wall plaster, and thresholds], Scythopolis [twice 350– 559 beaten earth floors, revetted in marble*, 506–507], Gerasa [extended onto part of portico 404–29], and Jerusalem [raised threshold* 500–543]. Most repairs were to old shops, although those marked * were first constructed in Late Antiquity.171 In design terms, we can talk of the classic shop plan, inherited from the Hellenistic and Early Imperial period: the record of repairs reveals that it survived entirely unchallenged throughout Late Antiquity. In particular, we see some major re-buildings of massive shopping complexes, such as the tetragonal agora at Ephesus [383–407, rebuilding at least 73 units], or the main colonnaded streets of Antioch in Syria [540–65, retaining the Early Imperial shops] which shows the active 171  Repairs to shops: see appendices Y3 and Y6.

408 preservation of the same architectural concept, with few changes in plan.172 However, brand-new constructions of shops in this period reveals that there was an expansion in their number in city centres. This came in part with the establishment of great new colonnaded streets but was equally due to the filling of previously empty spaces, and also due to the redevelopment of political buildings, temples, and stoas. It seems unlikely that the total number of shops within a city increased, but shops were certainly given greater prominence in relation to other urban public buildings in core monumental areas. Rows of cellular shops were built as integral parts of new colonnaded streets at 3 sites in the West and on 20 occasions at 11 sites in the East: at Carthago Nova [387.5–425 new shops], Milan [346–71, not excavated], Gorsium [244–435], Justiniana Prima [twice, 535– 616, 535–573], Diocletianopolis [250–616], Thracian Philippopolis [364–89], Constantinople [twice, 324–30, 532–37], Sardis [twice, 395–420, 400–425], Aphrodisias [300–400], Ephesus [five times, 395–408, 576–601 × 3, 576–614], Scythopolis [300–400], Tiberias [200–400 possibly], Jerusalem [twice, 475–619; 500–543], and Abu Mina [twice, 475–619 × 2]. They were even built lining the main streets of early 8th c. ʿAnjar. New shops were also built on existing streets on 2 sites in the West and on 18 occasions at 11 sites in the East: at Exeter? [340– 65], Ostia [346–89], Abritus [337–400], Athens [twice 383–616, 500–600], Hierapolis [400–75], Ephesus [four times 250–436, 250–614, 305–614, 576–614], Sagalassos [393–418], Patara [337–614], Side [twice 250–614], Caesarea Philippi [200–433], Scythopolis [550–614], Sepphoris [three times 250–612.5], and Gerasa [285– 412.5]. Although the number of units excavated on each street can be given, one should remember that most avenues have been excavated only partially, so that totals from these sites can mislead. One should think in terms of a hundred or more shops for the main streets of large cities, (Ephesus Arcadiane has ca. 90), whereas 50 shops might be very common on secondary colonnaded avenues or on main streets of minor places. Sigma plazas with crescents of new shops, considered above, added further to this, as did shops set around some of the new circular plazas, as at Dyrrachium (6 units), Palmyra (5+), Bostra (12), and Gerasa (12). Shops were also built anew within fora / agorai, where space permitted, giving these plazas a more commercial character. This happened just before our period at Segobriga, where a cryptoporticus was divided into 5 units [230–55] and at Sabratha, where a portico was reduced by two thirds by at least 5 units [230–55]. During Late Antiquity, it can be seen at 3 sites in the West and 172  Antioch street plan retained: Lassus (1972) 19–40, esp. 29.

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on 11 occasions at 9 sites in the East: at Rome [above a portico in the Forum Romanum 507–511], Nora [3 rectangular rooms, possible shops on portico, 340–65], Thubursicum Numidarum [portico subdivided into at least 8 rectangular rooms sometime after 360], Delphi [5 units, with a portico, ca. 350], Antioch in Pisidia [6 or 7 rooms without a portico, 300–325], Iasos [2 units built in corner, 250–614], Sagalassos Upper Agora [7 units built with portico 450–575; 5 further rooms from subdividing portico 525–641], Sagalassos Lower Agora [10–11 units subdividing west portico 500–575; 2 or more units on south side 500–628], Arykanda Upper Agora [12 units, 250–400], Seleucia-Lyrbe [4 units?, 250–614], Hippos / Sussita [in ‘exedra’/ portico, 387.5–412.5], and Cyrene [2 units, ca. 400]. In new-built rectangular fora / agorai, shops were rarer, as pointed out in previous chapters, but they can be seen at 2 sites in the East: at Scythopolis [25 units, 400–535] and Abu Mina [6 units, 475–532]. The shops just mentioned above were mainly squeezed into previously unbuilt corners of streets and squares, or inside porticoes. However, others replaced, or were set within, former public buildings on these same plazas and thoroughfares. The pressure for space is evident at Constantinople, with ‘very many houses with their shops’ being built in the porticoes of the Zeuxippos Baths in 424 (Cod. Theod. 15.1.53), but is also visible in the provinces. At Sabratha, shops were set within the precinct of a temple [5 single units]. At Ephesus, they were placed in the substructures of the Temple of Domitian, lining a major street [6 single], and in a neighbouring street portico [3 single, expanding shops behind]. At Sagalassos, cellular rooms were built in the stoa by the north-west gate [plan unclear, may not be shops]. At Seleucia / Lybre, they filled the bouleutèrion, a type of structure destroyed by a ‘sigma’ of shops at Scythopolis in 506/507. At Side, a row was built over a demolished temple [number unknown], while, at Aphrodisias the Sebasteion (a monumental approach to a temple) was converted into a double row [4 double, 1 triple, 2 quadruple, 10 single room units], as were bath basilicas both at Aphrodisias [ca. 20 single units] and at Side [ca. 12 single units], as well as the basilica and the gymnasium at Herdonia [3 single and 1 ‘double’ units; 1 quadruple unit, may not be shops]. These actions created the self-contained market buildings discussed earlier. At Cyrene, shops were built inside part of the shell of the Hellenistic market building [2 single], alongside the smaller replacement market structure now built here. Do these developments provide us with archaeological confirmation of the erosion of monumental space by chaotic commercial developments, as described in the Theodosian Code? Well, hardly. Without the legal texts,

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one would not describe the building of these cellular shops as chaotic. In almost every instance, their construction was undertaken without seriously detracting from the monumentality of the streets and squares in which they were found, at most closing a stoa and almost never blocking actual street space. In the case of Aphrodisias and Sagalassos, the new boutiques coexisted with the continued maintenance and decoration of the agorai in which they were set, with re-erected statue monuments and repaired fountains.173 Furthermore, in many cases, the rows of shops were clearly planned unified actions (same building materials throughout, same common walls, roof, same sizes and openings) involving a considerable degree of capital outlay. Thus, the building of the west portico shops on the Upper Agora at Sagalassos involved a great monumental staircase and collective barrel vault, a feature which also appeared in shops built alongside the baths at Patara. These shops, and others with a unified design, must have been the result of largescale building operations paid for by the city or by an urban patron.174 The subdivision into cells of porticoes in front of already-existing shops was undoubtedly less elegant: aside from the carefully excavated examples of Gerasa, Sepphoris, and Scythopolis, mentioned above, we also have rougher conversions at Ostia [3 times, 9 units 250–544.5, 1+ 250–380, 1 346–71], Sagalassos [393– 418], and Ariassos [250–614, on an agora]. At Nicopolis in Epirus [undated] and at Petra [363–88] after a destruction, porticoes were invaded by unplanned rooms, but such developments were rare within the 4th to 6th c., as seen in the streets chapter.175 In terms of chronological distribution, we see the same gap in the middle of the 5th c., as seen in other types of building, but with a strong recovery in the 6th c. The construction of shops on streets fits other patterns of building, with a peak in 325–50, whilst the building of shops on agorai is clearly more of a 6th c. phenomenon (graphs 57–59). We also see 6th c. building work confined to a relatively small number of greater cities in the East. The large number of examples from Asia Minor is worth remarking on: cellular shops are the dominant structure at Ephesus, appearing in their hundreds in the city centre. New-built shops were especially popular here, in contrast to repairs, which are evenly spread around the empire, except in Africa. Before dismissing this as an accident, we should remember that not a single sigma or circular plaza has been identified from Asia Minor, 173   Continued decoration of agorai despite new shops: at Sagalassos: Lavan (2013a) 314–26, 328–33; at Aphrodisias: Smith (1999) 155–89; Ratté (2001) 127–30, 135. 174  Planned street portico subdivision: appendix A5d. 175  Unplanned street portico subdivision / replacement: appendix A5c.

and that the region also saw relatively little investment in macella or in other purpose-built market buildings. Rather, Asia Minor has a great number of colonnaded streets with shops. Conversely, in the Balkans, we find colonnaded streets with few or no shops lining them, as at Scupi, Stobi, and Athens, although at some sites, such as Thracian Philippopolis and Justiniana Prima, they are present. Thus, it seems that we have a regional preference in Asia Minor for the architectural form that is the cellular shop, just as repairs to civil basilicas are known almost exclusively in the West. Indeed, the main style of investment in market buildings in Asia Minor is in tetragonal agorai, which essentially consist of four rows of shops set around a plaza. The lack of investment in cellular shops in Africa is troubling. Here, we might suspect a failure to date or record shops, but is a different set of preferences at work? The contrast is too great even with Italy, where shops continued to be built. Perhaps, in Africa, the civil basilica and the open plaza of the forum both played a greater commercial role than we give credit for. Regional preferences had a strong influence over building work for retail (Distribution Map 16). Shopping and Social Life Retail activities in the late antique city naturally occurred within a wider cultural matrix. While different professions have been well-studied as social groups, the place of traders in the city, in relation to urban patrons and others, has been little explored.176 The open tables in marketplaces would likely have been used by farmers from the rural territory of a city. However, the places reserved for the ‘men of Hierapolis’ in the Tetrastoon at Aphrodisias suggest that some stallholders might have been peddlers on a circuit, selling more specialised goods. About the customers of stalls we hear less, but whatever anecdotes we do have suggest individual shoppers, buying at most for households.177 Markets adapted to the sale of single products do not seem to have been found within late antique cities, except perhaps at Constantinople, where such a market existed for live animals in the middle Byzantine period.178 Wholesale markets could perhaps rather be found in the countryside. Admittedly, a single possible example from the

176  Artisanal class, key references: Sodini (1979) 71–119; Patlagean (1977); Zanini (2006) 373–411; see also Ellis (2006) 413–37. On relationships between artisans and patrons, see Liebeschuetz, (1972) 197–98. 177  Individual shoppers, anecdotes: see fora / agorai 4th c. chapter. 178  Wholesale markets at Constantinople: Mango (M.M.) (2000b) 199.

410 provinces comes from Carthage, where the ‘Street of the Fig Sellers’ might have involved wholesale retail from stalls. The shops themselves were occupied by more comfortable traders, who resided permanently in the city. The establishments that these people ran generally represented high-value commerce, and in some cases can be reasonably described as boutiques. Although restaurants represent low-value sales, it is worth noting that both a bean shop and a tavern in 6th c. Emesa were able to permanently employ one person from outside the family.179 The owners might be described as the ‘middle classes’ of the period, if one was looking for them.180 Libanius understood this in describing the rising prestige of Roman law in his time: law was something that previously only youngsters from the ergastèria wanted to pursue to improve themselves, but now it was being chosen by the sons of the local gentry.181 To religious leaders, shopkeepers might seem a critical group to win over, perhaps because their independent resources made them more difficult to lead than the urban poor. Here was a class that was used to keeping workshop secrets and could perhaps keep those of faith. Chrysostom addressed many of his sermons to this group, sometimes treating them as the default listeners: he suggests that the rich man should become an artisan of charitable works, while he disapproves of upper-class snobbery about mercantile origins. In pastoral messages specifically aimed at merchants, Chrysostom criticised the closure of shops when the theatre is playing, the use of oaths during commercial transactions, and the treatment of apprentices.182 The Life of St. Symeon the Fool has something of a similar preoccupation with the artisanal class: the conversions of a Jewish glassblower and of a heretical bean seller are key priorities for the saint. Here was a class that was used to keeping workshop secrets and could perhaps keep those of faith. Artisans did have patronage relationships with wealthy families within cities: either as favoured clients, like the bakers of Libanius, or as artisans working on specific commissions for rich customers. Cassiodorus stressed this relationship in his evocation of the ideal 179  Employment of free non-family members: Emesa bean seller’s shop: v. Sym. part 4, pp. 151–52; tavern: pp. 152–53. 180  Looking for the ‘middle classes’: see Ellis (2006) and Mayer (2012). 181  Youngsters from ergastèria study law: Lib. Or. 61.21. 182  Positive image for artisanal class: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Matth. 14.2 (PG 57.219: praising artisans for hard work), 49.3 (PG 58.50: the rich man is like an artisan), 58.3 (PG 58.570: the elite are descended from artisans). Hom. in Rom 30, 15.25–27. Theatres: Hom. in Matth. 6.7 (PG 57.71). Oaths: Hom. in Act. 9.5–6 (PG 60.81–82). Employment of apprentices: Hom. ad pop. Ant. 14.1 (PG 49.145).

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daily round for a Roman nobleman: ‘to stroll through the forum, to look in at some skilful craftsman at his work, to push one’s own cause through the law courts, to play counters, to go to the baths with one’s acquaintances, to have a banquet’.183 Here, it seems likely that the items being made by the artisan were in fact being paid for by the elite visitor, who might have wished to discuss details during their production. Artisans might have participated in the social strategies of patrons quite intimately: both Libanius and Chrysostom saw the association of rich men with silversmiths as representing one of the key aspects of their wealth, along with estates, a house, slaves, and money.184 However, Libanius’ own alliance with shopkeepers certainly extended beyond what he could buy: he enjoyed hearing their compliments each day as he passed the shops: in return, he protected them, as he did the guild of bakers against the floggings of the comes Orientis, Philagrius.185 This was a straightforward relationship of patronage, which might have existed with any other social group for political or commercial reasons. Shops were also places for the meetings of equals. Libanius frequently mentions ergastèria as important places for socialising, while Ammianus describes how the poorest people in Rome spent nights in tabernae, where they liked to gamble and discuss chariot racing.186 When Chrysostom pleaded for decorum in church (no greetings, chatting, or laughter), he implored his congregation to remember that ‘the church is no barber’s or perfumer’s nor any other merchant’s shop (ergastèrion) in the marketplace’ and reminded them that talk of buying and selling belonged in the shops rather than in church.187 Around 200, Clement of Alexandria quoted Zeno of Citium to imagine that the ideal Christian maiden should avoid ‘the wearisome trouble that comes from the shops of perfumers, and goldsmiths, and dealers in wool, and that which comes from the other shops where women, meretriciously dressed, pass whole days as if sitting in the stews’. Whatever one thinks of such stereo­typing, it does suggest that these shops were places where women felt able to gather, and that some trades might have a visible female clientele. In contrast, Clement (without quoting anyone) has barbers’ shops 183  Daily round of nobleman: Cassiod. Var. 8.31; Fridh (1973). 184  Wealth display in land, money, silversmiths, slaves, and house: Lib. Or. 31.11–12; wealth display in silversmiths’ shops: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Ep. 1 ad Cor. 11.4 (PG 61.93). 185  Shopkeepers greeting Libanius: Lib. Or. 2.6; Libanius protecting bakers from flogging: Lib. Or. 34.4, 1.206ff., 29.6. 186  Antioch, ergastèria as centres of social gossip: Lib. Or. 48.13, 8.4, 31.25; Rome, poorest spend the night in tabernae: Amm. Marc. 14.6.25. 187  Church is no shop: Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Ep. 1 ad Cor. 36.5 (PG 61.313).

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and taverns as the gathering places of men, where they spend their time ‘babbling nonsense’, hunting for women who sit nearby, and slandering others to raise a laugh.188 Thus, it is important to keep in mind that perhaps not all ‘shoppers’ were customers, even potentially. The Life of St. Symeon the Fool describes beggars sitting watching a glassblower, just for the fun of it, and for the heat of his fire.189 The urban malls must have contained a fair number of window-shoppers, time wasters, and petty thieves, as they do in any age, drawn as much by the spectacle as by any commercial or social relationships. Shopping Culture Here we enter into an understanding of shopping as a cultural experience. It is clear from the layout of colonnaded shopping avenues, reviewed earlier in this book, that amenity as well as function was always at the centre of their design. Shopping areas were constructed as public spaces as much as, or even more than, commercial spaces. A visit to the porticoes of Emesa or Scythopolis was meant to be enjoyable from the beginning: shops were part of this pleasure, all the more because they were well-ordered, cellular experiences. Libanius and Choricius sought to delight their readers by describing what they saw in the shops of Antioch and Gaza: fresh high-quality produce on display.190 Smell certainly helped to display goods on offer, producing an enticing odour of the kind that seems to have driven Ammianus to distraction. In a rare survival, the frescoes of a restaurant at Ostia were painted with some of the refreshments available: olives, turnips, and eggs / peaches.191 Another attraction of taverns was the serving girls. In Justinian’s Digest, taverns were places where prostitution might take place, though in an informal manner, evading the law. Tavern girls, like prostitutes, were infames: in Late Roman laws, illegitimate children fathered by prominent citizens in taverns could not inherit any property, and such citizens could not marry tavern mistresses or their daughters; further, a law of 396 even forbade tavern workers, alongside actors and actresses, from using public seats.192 High-pitched cries might advertise food 188   Women and men socialising in shops: Clem. paed. 3.11 (PG 8.652), transl. Schaff (1886–1900). 189  Glassblower as entertainment and warmth: v. Sym. part 4, p. 163. 190  Fresh produce display: Lib. Or. 11.251–52; Choricius, Orationes 2.59–65, 1.93. 191   Smells: Amm. Marc. 28.34. Menu paintings at Ostia: Hermansen (1981) 131–32. 192  Sex in taverns: e.g., Joh. Moschus 188. Tavern women, legal status: Dig. 3.2.4.2, 23.2.43.praef., 23.2.43.9. Illegitimate children: Cod. Theod. 4.6.3 (AD 336). Marriage forbidden: Marc. Nov.4.1.1 (AD 454). Public seats forbidden: Cod. Theod. 15.13.1 (AD 396).

411 (fish at Antioch, hot meats at Rome). Ammianus was not alone in regarding this behaviour as vulgar. Choricius of Gaza suggested that merchants at Gaza did not need to shout to advertise, at a festival market in his city, because their wares were of such high quality;193 merchants of high-value goods everywhere may well have felt the same. Enthusiasm for the spectacle of urban retail can be seen not only in continued depictions of them in this period, but also in anecdotes and metaphors from late antique literature. Augustine, Chrysostom, and Leontius of Neapolis all found delight or interest in visiting artisans, as the following extracts reveal: Blacksmith: Augustine, Enarrationes in Psalmos 48(2).9, edd. E. Dekkers and J. Fraipont (CCSL 38–40) (Turnhout 1956). Transl. Schaff (1886–1900) with some edits. If you were to enter the workshop of a smith, you would not dare to find fault with his bellows, his anvils, his hammers. But take an ignorant man, who does not know the purpose of each thing, and who finds fault with everything. Yet if he does not have the skill of the workman, and has only the reasoning power of a man, what is he saying to himself? Not without reason are the bellows placed here: the workman knows why, though I do not. In the shop he (the ignorant man) dares not to find fault with the smith, yet in the universe he dares to find fault with God. Therefore, just as ‘fire, hail, snow, ice, wind of storms, which do His word,’ and all things in nature, which seem to foolish persons to be made at random, simply ‘do His word,’ because they are not made except by His command. Perfume shop: John Chrysostom, Homiliae in Johannem 53.3 (PG 59.205). Transl. Schaff. For if a man who passes an ointment maker’s shop, or sits in one, is impregnated with perfume even against his will, much more is this the case with one who comes to church. Painter: John Chrysostom, Homiliae in Acta apostolorum 30.4 (PG 60.228) Transl. Schaff. Go into a painter’s study, and you will observe how silent all is there. Then so ought it to be here: for ‘The Fool’ working in a tavern at Emesa was also an attraction for customers, who came there specifically to be amused by him: v. Sym. part 4, p. 152. 193  Cries to attract sales: Lib. Or. 11.258 (Antioch); Amm. Marc. 28.34 (Rome); Choricius, Orationes 2.59–65, 1.93 (Gaza).

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here too we are employed in painting portraits, royal portraits (every one of them), none of any private man, by means of the colours of virtue…. This is a reform not easy, but (only) by reason of long habit, to be effected. The pencil moreover is the tongue, and the Artist the Holy Spirit. Dye workshop: The Arabic Gospel of the Infancy of the Savior 37 (thought to be a 5th to 6th c. addition to an earlier text, the Infancy Gospel of Thomas); transl. A. Walker, revised and ed. K. Knight, in The Ante-Nicene Fathers (Buffalo 1885–96) 8:412. On a certain day the Lord Jesus, running about and playing with the boys, passed the shop of a dyer, whose name was Salem; and he had in his shop many pieces of cloth which he was to dye. The Lord Jesus then, going into his shop, took up all the pieces of cloth, and threw them into a tub full of indigo. And when Salem came and saw his cloths destroyed, he began to cry out with a loud voice, and to reproach Jesus, saying: Why have you done this to me, O son of Mary? You have disgraced me before all my townsmen: for, seeing that everyone wished the colour that suited himself, you have come and destroyed them all. Glassblower: v. Sym. part 4, p. 165; transl. D. Krueger, Symeon the Holy Fool: Leontius’s Life and the Late Antique City (Berkeley 1996) 165–66. Another time he (Symeon) was sitting with his brothers (in poverty) and warming himself near a glassblower’s furnace. The glassblower was Jewish. And Symeon said to the beggars joking, ‘Do you want me to make you laugh? Behold, I will make the sign of the cross over the drinking glass which the craftsman is making, and it will break.’ When he had broken about seven, one after the other, the beggars began to laugh, and they told the glassblower about the matter, and he chased Symeon away, branding him. As he left, Symeon screamed at the glassblower, saying ‘Truly, bastard, until you make the sign of the cross on your forehead, all your glasses will be shattered.’ And again after the (glassblower) broke thirteen others, one after the other, he was shattered and made the sign of the cross on his forehead. And nothing ever broke again. And because of this, he went out and became a Christian. Having heard all this, one might think that the shopping malls of Late Antiquity were places reserved for

sensuality and sale. But for a few people at least, visits to the shops had a more serious purpose: Augustine’s metaphor suggests that when inside a workshop it is wise for a man to yield to the knowledge of the artisan, as only an ignorant man would try to better the wisdom of experience, which has ordered production. Lactantius (Divine Institutes 2.9) goes further and suggests that, without visits to artisans, one is not able to understand the nature of manufactured goods and suggests that this is something very necessary for the well-born to undertake. Thus, it seems that a morning at the shops could be very rewarding in Late Antiquity, even on an intellectual level. Regulation There is much evidence for structure and amenity in our sources for late antique commerce. Nonetheless, the identity of who actually regulated retail on a day-to-day basis is not directly documented. The laws relating to the swine market at Rome were addressed to the urban prefect, who had to display them there, which perhaps suggests that his officiales were involved in regulation. Diocletian’s Price Edict certainly implies some enforcement of market rules: the laws were displayed in agorai in the East, as at Aphrodisias and Stratonicea, and on the central roundel of the macellum at Aizanoi, as discussed in the fora / agorai chapter. We have to consider who wanted to have such texts inscribed in marketplaces in Asia Minor. They were inscribed in other regions far less frequently, suggesting that local civic initiative was at work. Aediles are not mentioned in Late Roman laws but do occur in 4th c. African inscriptions, even though we do not know what they did.194 At Oxyrhynchus, from the early 4th c., there is a group of declarations in papyri by associations (bakers, brewers, oil sellers, honey dealers, pork butchers, fish mongers and coppersmiths) before the curator of the city, setting out their prices month by month, as noted by Jones.195 For the later 5th to early 7th c., we could think that some control over commerce was exercised by pateres, who were notably active in restoring shop porticoes, and who could have handled the rents of shops built on civic land. The widespread ‘order’ seen in eastern archaeological evidence for commercial structures, into the 6th c., does at least provide an urban context in which the prescriptions of Julian of Ascalon seem credible. Someone must have enforced comparable rules, at least in a few cities of Palestine. In 194  Aediles in African inscriptions: Lep. vol. 1 164–65. 195  Price control at Oxyrhynchus: Jones (1964) vol. 2 859 describing P. Oxy 1.83, 1.85 (both AD 338), and other cases.

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all cases, we can imagine the involvement of civic slaves working under these magistrates, regulating shop construction, rents, stalls, waste, deliveries, weights, and measures. Whilst the spatial configuration of cellular shops and market stalls remained highly controlled, regulation within market buildings seems to have been in decline. The inscription recording a building for weighing objects at Antioch in Pisidia is only tentatively ascribed to the 4th c., on the basis of the presence of a logistès (curator), and there is nothing like it any later.196 Measuring tables (mensa ponderaria / sèkômata), which were previously a feature of macella (as at Lepcis Magna), were now rarely made anew.197 We find late examples dedicated at Thamugadi and at Cuicul, by the same consular governor, in office before 395, for wine, barley, and corn, likely connected to fiscal purposes, as envisaged by Cod. Theod. 12.6.21 (386). This law ordered them to be provided to each municipality and statio, to be used in paying taxes. Furthermore, at Ostia, the tables present in late antique contexts are not from macella: one was found in a portico behind the Bivium Nymphaeum, and another in the ‘Basilica Cristiana’, as if they were in private use.198 Indeed, one has been found in the episcopal quarter at Byllis and others in reused contexts. In the Novels of Justinian, weights and measures were stored in the episcopal church for safekeeping, being again related to tax collection.199 This suggests that neither State nor City was investing in direct market regulation, for the sake of the consumer, but had withdrawn, in favour of regulating the interests of taxation alone. A single set of professional metal weights found in a shop on the Upper Agora at Sagalassos (occupation in 525–641) is the only possible evidence we have of the application of regulated weights to a market on a plaza.200 However, the late repairs to market buildings, alongside the continued building of a small number of new structures, do suggest some level of institutional continuity at civic

level, as does their continued occupation, into the 6th c. in the East. The role of guilds / associations in regulating retail is unclear. Certainly, they are recognised at a legal and institutional level, as hereditary corporations responsible for compulsory state services. They also appear in adventus ceremonies in the provinces during the 4th c. (at Autun), and in imperial processions at Constantinople in the 6th c., as was discussed in the processions chapter. Guilds mentioned by the Codex Theodosianus and the 5th c. Novels include ragmen (AD 399 concerning Rome), money changers (AD 404 concerning Constantinople), and bakers. We learn something of their day to day troubles in relation to bakers, on whose behalf Libanius intervened as a collective patron at Antioch in the later 4th c. We hear of a guild of butchers again in the 6th c., repairing a section of city wall at Tomis.201 Guilds of butchers, tanners, gardeners, and goldsmiths had places in the theatre at Aphrodisias, as did makers of wineskins / skins, coppersmiths, and jewellers at Bostra. The topos inscriptions which reserve their places can be assumed to be late antique in general terms from their setting: none of those from Bostra or Aphrodisias are preceded by a cross, but there is an acclamation from the latter city of later 5th to 6th c. date (for the Tyche of the Blues), which is combined with a topos inscription relating to the makellitai.202 Further topos inscriptions for groups of artisans, are found away from entertainment buildings, as mentioned earlier. Examples, come from Didyma, for bakers, and from Ephesus, for carpenters from the Marble Street, for silversmiths from the Arcadiane, for silversmiths and painters from the Embolos. Most of the Ephesian examples are likely to be late antique, given their context on streets with a large amount of late antique modification. At Sagalassos, as noted above, topos inscriptions set parallel with the west portico of the Upper Agora include place reservations for bronzesmiths and perhaps for

196  see n. 167. 197  Measuring table in Macellum: http://www.livius.org/pictures/ libya/lepcis-magna/lepcis-magna-macellum/lepcis-magnamacellum-table-for-amphoras/ (last accessed May 2018). 198  Measuring tables, late examples: Thamugadi and Cuicul by PLRE 1.326 Flavius Herodes 4, governed 394–95, for wine, barley and corn; Lep. 447; AE (1954) no. 155 = Doisy (1953) 133–36 no. 25; Lep. 408 n. 28; AE (1921) no. 46. That at Cuicul contains cavities for measuring, whereas the Thamugadi text is inscribed on a support for a table. Furthermore, at Ostia: Schoevart (2013) 211–17, plus L. Lavan site observation 2012. 199  Measuring tables in episcopal quarter, at Byllis: Pitarakis (2012) 412 with fig. 16.10. Storage in churches: Just. Nov. 128.15 (AD 545). 200  Sagalassos, weights: appendix Y2.

201  Guilds in legal texts: Guilds of bakers (extensively, see index of edition of Pharr (1952)), ragmen 12.1.162 (AD 399 concerning Rome), money changers (16.4.5 AD 404 concerning Constantinople). Just. Nov. 43 (guilds based in shops of Mese have to provide services relating to burial, AD 536); Nov. 136 (guild of bankers of Constantinople, AD 535); Nov. 64 (guild of gardeners, AD 538). Libanius’ patronage of the guild of bakers at Antioch: Lib. Or. 50. Butchers at Tomis: Roueché (1993) 125, citing Popescu (1976) 8 (not seen). 202  Topos inscriptions of professional associations in entertainment buildings: Aphrodisias (stadium): Roueché (1993): anonymous association (45.10.Y), tanners (45.12.D), gardeners (45.34.Z), gold-workers (45.39.P), corn-merchants (45.2.0). Aphrodisias (theatre): chief gold-worker (46.1.8); Bostra: IGLS 13.9156–63, for place inscriptions for copper smiths, makers of wineskins / skins, jewellers.

414 upholsterers.203 Yet, the value of topos inscriptions from streets and squares, as indicators of the existence of guilds, is not as strong as those from theatres. It is likely that we have here reserved commercial pitches for individual tradesmen, like those for named barbers in the Hall of the Theatre Baths at Aphrodisias, or for Cyriacus, trouser-maker, outside the cathedral (on a door jamb, after three crosses, ALA 189). However, the occurrence, in late inscriptions, of non-commercial associations named after individuals (Pytheanitai at Aphrodisias, Mariani at Xanthos, and Michaelitai at Sagalassos), suggest that we should interpret topos inscriptions for traders, in the plural, as representing recognised groups, whether they occur in the theatre, or in streets and plazas.204 Their existence in streets and squares, especially at Sagalassos, suggests that market regulation was carried out on a corporate basis. We might expect that the protection of hereditary rights to trade, or the needs of the State to organise compulsory services, meant that within market places there existed specific rights for preferred traders who had defined concessions, around which freer trading had to fit. This might be especially so in markets associated with the annona, like the meat markets of Rome. Temporality There is little direct evidence of the temporality of late antique shops. Much of it must be reconstructed from implication and guesswork, of what we know of life in larger eastern cities. Undoubtedly, most shop owners were awake from early, at least from cockcrow, when the very first light came, before the sun had risen. Whether woken by muleteers or by neighbours, those sleeping in shops would have needed to rise with the first rhythms of the city. The first job would have been to clean the portico from evening defilements, and put out produce, into the space in front of the shop. Some, with manufacturing processes to manage, would have started earlier, 203  Topos inscriptions for associations, outside of theatres: Didyma: IDidyma 663 (not seen); Ephesus: IvE 2.549 topos inscription for carpenters from the Marble Street; for silversmiths IvE 2.547.1–2 from the Arcadiane; for eikonophoroi: IvE 2.256 and from the Embolos. 204  Associations named after individuals: for Aphrodisias and Xanthos see appendix K1a on the Aphrodisias Tetrastoon; for Sagalassos see Lavan (2013a) 335. The Pytheanitai at Aphrodisias are supporters of one Pytheas, probably the vir illustris known in the city, of mid-5th to mid-6th c. date, known in ALA 55, 56, 57, 58, 250. Thus it is possible that the Michael of Sagalassos is not St. Michael, but rather someone named after the Archangel.

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lighting ovens that took hours to heat up. Other earlystarters would have provided early morning refreshment to visitors sleeping in churches, on agorai, or in taverns. Artisans with a slave left inside their shop might have arrived around the second hour (ca. 8am), hoping a good deal of the set-up work was already done. In family establishments, a division of labour no doubt occurred as parents focused on accounts, visits, and orders, whilst children and slaves moved tables and merchandise. A grill or brazier lit with an ember or borrowed charcoal perhaps provided some porridge when the hard work was done. At least one person might sit out on the street to call to passers-by and protect stock. Then, at the third hour (ca. 9am) was the time to send out errands, for missing raw materials, to invite orders to be collected, to chase payments, as the shops and house of artisans and customers came to life. By the fourth hour (ca. 10am) one could expect errand-runners and customers to be visiting the shop, and at least two hours of good business. A light lunch, of bread, cheese, and figs perhaps, before more errands to be run. Then a lull in trade came, in which few artisans would close up, but might finish work inside, or dare to doze for a while, sitting on the thresholds, or call across half-empty streets to other tradesmen. As some people returned to the agora, a little more business could be expected, perhaps collecting orders made in the morning. The shopkeepers would then pack all their produce back into the shop, perhaps before heading to the baths, followed by a modest meal from a thermopolium, then bed. The lighting of oil lamps was doubtless widely resented by the artisans who not only had to pay for them, but had their light interfere with the early sleep that so many needed. For those who did still sell under the oil lamps, the evening session must have been somewhat disagreeable, perhaps due to some of the customers, as much as the time of day. The temporality of market buildings is more difficult to fix, except for a few points. We can imagine the need to prepare meat ahead of sale time. This would require both deliveries and work during the small hours of the night. It is highly likely that the sale of foodstuffs took place almost exclusively in the morning, when produce was freshest and when slaves fulfilled requests for ingredients sent out at that time, to prepare dinners in great houses. Some sale for immediate consumption may have featured in the late morning, and possibly after bathing. But otherwise, as in many markets today, the afternoon might have seen like a pointless period for sale, in which extensive cleaning of unsavoury residues was most worthwhile, before leaving. Accounts were then to be done, as itinerant sellers returned with their cash

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boxes and left-overs, and wholesale orders were placed with muleteers going off to slaughter-grounds. There could then have been scope for a meal or a sale of the scraps. Some attempt might perhaps have been made to regulate measures and set out new tables, in these last moments of the day, when no customer pestered, or at first light before they arrived. This much can be guessed of the temporality of shops and market buildings. A lot more could be worked out about the specific rhythms of production for different artisanal professions, which are both non-arbitrary and very resistant to change between ancient, medieval, and early modern contexts. Such an exercise might seem to go too far from the sources for a purist. But the vast areas of artisanal life that are not covered by ancient sources, even in a rich period like Late Antiquity, mean that the effort is worthwhile. It is my hope that the current research of Joe Williams relating to late antique artisanal processes will make this abundantly clear. Persistence The persistence of commerce in the Roman style, of market buildings and regulated cellular shops is impossible to assert in most places, but not all. The row of shops on the forum of Ignatia shows that, in parts of Italy, it was possible for some degree of order to survive the degradation of the architectural frame of monumental plazas. Similarly, the trades taking place in the Forum of Caesar in the 5th c. seem to occupy the shops in a recognisably ancient manner, despite having been stripped of marble revetment. When we move to the Near East and adjacent regions occupied by Islam, we see new cellular units lining the streets of Ptolemais or of Scythopolis in the postantique period. They are often now extended into the portico but not always, with the Umayyad souq in the latter city having a fine arcaded portico with mosaic inscription. Admittedly, at Palmyra, a row is built down the centre of the main avenue. But the shops are, in places, remarkably regular in size and they have a piped water supply. The road they were built through was exceptionally wide, so its division into two alleys does not deserve the iconic status it has in encroachment studies. On the north side, onto which the new shops faced, there was now a roadway of 5.1 m and two new porticoes of 2.1 m, on each sides of the street, built with the former north portico. Such a road width would of course have been acceptable for carts in the late antique Near East, as at Jerusalem where new roads of 5.4 m width were common. Palmyra acquired a ‘narrow souk’ only of in terms the history of the city, not of sizes elsewhere.

The sites of ‘Anjar and Gerasa give us an even stronger flavour of continuity, with new built or rebuilt cellular shops respecting monumental roadways on both cities. In the latter case, they are full of evidence of trade, from productive structures down to ostraka featuring accounts. As at Scythopolis, there is a strong sense from the finds that Roman commerce continued largely unaltered until at least the earthquake of 749, an impression supported by the Abbasid survey of shops in the region lining streets and plazas, recorded by Dionysios of Tel Mahre, mentioned in the previous chapter. In contrast, we do not have much archaeological evidence from surviving Roman territories in the East, after 650. One might say that the cellular rooms at Hierapolis, narrowing Frontinus street, of 7th to 10th c. date, represent continuity of retail occupation, but we lack finds which might confirm their commercial function. Nonetheless, we can say that the 9th c. Book of the Eparch, when taken with testimonies of shops in the 7th c. Mircacles of St. Artemius, suggests very strong continuity of late antique urban arrangements at Constantinople, with both cellular shops on porticoes and market buildings, as Marlia Mango has ably demonstrated. I would be cautious about using the former as a guide to late antique details, but the overall framework that it suggests seems recognisably ancient. Conclusions Summary In conclusion, it seems fair to assert the survival of most forms of Roman regulated retail into Late Antiquity, to the early 5th c. in the West and into the 6th in the East, at least in provincial capitals and middle-ranking cities. Structured markets of regulated stalls still existed, as did macella for meat sales. Cellular units on main avenues were still being built and repaired as shops (not simply as houses), as they had been in earlier centuries. There is no evidence that these well-defined cellular structures were less important to retail than they had been earlier, or that market buildings and regulated stalls were being abandoned in favour of anarchic commercial developments resulting from individual initiative. Rather, we see an increasing prominence of cellular shops in city centres: they were being built to fit into spaces from which they had previously been excluded, although there were probably not more retail units in cities in total than there had been earlier. This ‘commercialisation’ of city centres did not cause urban decay or a loss of monumentality. Significantly, this process belongs to the 4th to 6th c. AD, not the Early Islamic period.

416 For the East, Late Antiquity can be described as the peak period for commercial amenity in the classical city: colonnaded shops were given greater prominence than earlier, and they had more glitzy decoration. This development was probably due to the sympathetic attitude of urban notables (principales in the 4th–mid 5th c. and pateres etc. after that), who were happy to sacrifice superfluous political buildings and disused temples. They were redefining their cities as urban centres dominated by shops, baths, and churches, but which were still set within monumental avenues and squares, decorated in a classical manner. In these cities, shopping was an enjoyable experience, but not one in which the interests of traders was allowed to overwhelm the aesthetic character of civic centres. Market stalls were still regulated as to their location and building materials, specialised market buildings were built to house unpleasant smells, and an attempt was made to ensure that private individuals could not disrupt the amenity of porticoes. Some use was made of commercial buildings of earlier times, but in much of the East this was the era of the cellular shop, either arranged as part of a glamorous colonnaded avenue, or with its own compact architectural setting, perhaps as part of a secluded and well-decorated sigma plaza. Limitations There seem very few limitations at first sight in the study of urban commerce. Compared to the study of fora / agorai or streets beyond the walls of shops, we have a much richer trace, of images, artefact assemblages, fixtures, and textual descriptions. However, as I have pointed out earlier, this wealth of information is deceptive, favouring some types of commerce out of proportion to their real occurrence in antiquity, whilst other trades are missed entirely. So many professions are still absent from the material record: from perfumers / apothecaries to bell makers. Recently, chandlers have turned up at both Thasos and Ignatia, having previously been unknown in a Roman context as a shop type. Mosaicists and belt-makers are only known from single examples. Within the duration of this project, I have denied the existence of pottery sale-shops, only to come across one at Gerasa. Many others need to be located archaeologically or reconstructed from other sources. But aside from professions, there are aspects of life that still escape us. Alan Walmsley’s discovery of ostraka from the Early Islamic shops of Gerasa opens to us something of what we are missing from Late Antiquity: the writings of shopkeepers themselves, albeit financial accounts.205 205  Umayyad shops of Gerasa: Roenje (2008) and Walmsley (2012).

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This gives us pause to remember that we do also miss the viewpoint of the ordinary, rather than the educated, customer. We also know very little of peripatetic trading. If topos inscriptions do represent a series of authorised pitches, then this suggests such trading was limited. At least in the Life of Symeon the Fool we can imagine satellite stalls to an eatery. Indeed, the topos inscription from the Tetrastoon at Aphrodisias records the spot held by the ‘chief of the hot-food sellers’, implying lesser dependent stalls. Nearby, even barbers had their recognised pitches, suggesting that regulation extended to quite a low level. Distinctive Features? Commerce provides perhaps the most vivid evidence of everyday life in the late antique city: from the dye shops of Sardis, the bar counters of Ostia, the price list of Aphrodisias, the busy butcher of the Yakto mosaic, to the escapades of Symeon the Fool in Emesa. However, whatever this tells us about the vitality of urban society or of the survival and development of Roman or Hellenistic commercial practice, it does not give us much impression of anything distinctively late antique. We can note the visibility of religious symbols on columns outside shops, the great prominence of cellular shops in city centres, as above, but it is also legitimate to ask if we are using the correct chronological boundaries to study commerce. For myself, the answer has to be yes, as I wish to relate retail to other developments in Late Antiquity. But, given the strength of continuities in professions and their organisation, the case against is very strong. A proper study of Roman shops should now include both the grave reliefs of the Early Imperial Rhineland, the remarks of Juvenal and others, snippets of 3rd c. Roman law, and also the destruction deposits of mid-8th c. Scythopolis. Even a small amount of comparative research reveals that artisanal professions were organised inside their units in a very similar way across at least eight centuries. The rarity of artefactual evidence for some trades and the slow pace of technological change means that a synthesis of the whole Roman period to Early Islamic is entirely justified. Conventional period divisions, which scholars use to specialise within, really do not make any sense in terms of the evidence. The main changes within the collective organisation of shops seem to have come before the late antique period. One can say that the shops of the Mese, or of Abu Mina’s main street, were bigger and better than earlier attempts, but the cellular row with portico did not develop or become predominant in the late antique period. Our rows of shops were very close in style to those of the 2nd c. Roman city but were not comparable to many

Markets and Shops

shops in 1st c. Vesuvian cities, where retail was often closely linked to large houses behind. This transformation does not belong in Late Antiquity but earlier: it has been studied by Stephen Ellis in his excellent Roman Retail Revolution, which appeared too late to use in this study.206 When one turns to stalls, those on the plaza of Pompeii in its forum scene seem entirely comparable with what we hear of in the 4th to 6th c., perhaps with slightly more robust structures and preference for unprocessed agricultural goods in some places. One area where there really does seem to be change is in macella, which seem on the decline in their classic Italian and Hellenistic forms. There is repair, but so little new building: the market building at Cyrene is the last of the eastern type and sits ominously within the ruined shell of its predecessor. In contrast, we see the construction of two new examples of a Basilica Vestiaria and the reconstruction of tetragonal agora and plazas without roundels. At Thasos, the cellular shops of the macella are no longer given over to meat commerce. All this suggests that the macellum as an architectural form was breaking up, even if it continued functionally: at Antioch, it was still the place where pork was cut up in Malalas’ day, in the middle years of the 6th c. 206  Ellis (2018).

417 Causes of Continuity and Change Clearly there was something enduring about the form of a cellular shop with portico which led to its popularity being assured. Factors in its favour may have included a (lost) legal template, as much as a commercial formula supported and encouraged by some cities. It is hard to credit central imperial policy, even that of the 5th–6th c. Eastern Empire, as cellular shops were clearly not as popular in the Balkans as in Asia Minor and the Levant, and many are of 4th c. date. Rather, we have an adoption of cellular shops related to something as nebulous as regional civic culture. The end of traditional Roman macella / Hellenistic market buildings is harder to explain. It may be something to do with the loss of aediles and agoranomoi in the 3rd c., when the curator took on greater prominence in civic life, being clearly involved in the regulation of retail. Or it might be due to the delegation of such buildings to collegia of butchers. In either case, it is possible that different priorities asserted themselves, that led to macella persisting but losing their status as one part of the ‘kit’ of buildings that one was expected to have in a monumental city of the Mediterranean world. This change was, however, so subtle, that few if any will have noticed it.

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Conclusion: Themes and Controversies To conclude, it is necessary to move from a detailed examination of everyday life and its material setting, towards a more abstract treatment. I do this with some regret, as if to leave a close engagement with the experience of late antique people is to lose some authenticity. But there are other angles available to scholarship that were not usually accessible to people living within Late Antiquity. This perspective can seem like a Godʾs eye view of the past and encourage pontification, as if to observe human affairs was to vicariously control them. Nevertheless, if we are to compare the cities of Late Antiquity with those of any other period, or to grasp connections between different elements of public space, the move is necessary. In this chapter, I sketch out a number of concluding themes, both to see if assumptions made in the introduction hold good and to explore the wider significance of the work.∗ To begin, a discussion of ʽchronological variationʾ will explore the idea of continuity and change, not merely in terms of the nature of the architectural frame of the city, but in relation to civic government, the nature of social life, and economic activity. I will then probe the quality of such continuity over time: to examine whether we can see the late antique city as the apogee of the ancient city, or just a shadow. These remarks include a consideration of the legacy of the late antique city to Early Islamic, Middle Byzantine, and western Medieval urbanism. A second major discussion, on ʽregional variationʾ will revisit the idea of a late antique urban koine in the central and eastern Mediterranean. I will try to identify factors responsible for regional commonalities and differences: to ask ‘why?’. This leads into an assessment of public space at Constantinople, of how urban styles visible in the provinces contributed to its character. The third major discussion will consider what the public space can contribute to the wider study of late antique society. My conclusions would normally end there, but to avoid appearing deaf to modern concerns, I survey two controversies: on the impact of Christianisation on civic * I do not cross-refer here to material presented in the main body of text or its appendices, which electronic searches will easily locate. Neither do I reference commonplaces from late antique studies, which are important to bring in, as background for the points I make. An exception is made when points are dealt with that have been controversial amongst scholars. Beyond that, I provide essential references to material not yet discussed in the main text. My thanks to D. Walsh, V. Déroche, J. Dijsktra, and D. Moreau for comments on this chapter, with which they do not necessarily agree.

life, and on the representation of late antique society in the contemporary world. Throughout the chapter, I attempt to address points in terms of what I perceive as the reality of everyday life rather than from the perspective of grander theories, although very frequently I am obliged to draw in other material to set my points into perspective. The statements presented here are not really given as I wanted to give them. I still hope to produce a further study on ‘intercommunal space’, which will cover theatres, large baths, latrines, schools, and so on. My conclusions would have best drawn on all this work. Nonetheless, it is inevitable that I give some account now of what my results mean for the late antique city, for late antique society, and for our image of the period. In so doing, I consider explanations that draw beyond areas covered in this book. Thus, my conclusions are provisional in nature. This is problematic given the cultural context in which I write, in which non-academic ‘impact’ can be the most highly valued part of a work. Of course, we should inform our view of the present with what we know of the past, even when we cannot investigate every assertion so used. Nevertheless, it helps to retain a little humility. It is dangerous to confuse the rhetorical demands of research grant applications, promotion committees, and public engagement with the dull business of serious scholarship. We must remember the limits of our expertise, the complexities of method, and the alternatives which may occur to others. I, like many, have stood up in seminars and made bold remarks, of great interest, that I am now obliged to nuance. For example: “The late antique Marian cult shows continuity with pre-Christian practices: the Church of Mary at Ephesus was built over the Temple of Artemis.” Although this statement is incorrect, others that I made were not always completely false, but they were usually wrong enough to mislead the listener. Too often, scholars make attention-grabbing claims, in engaging with the wider world, which turn out to be incorrect, unrepresentative, or wrongly slanted. Perhaps we all need to calm down a little, to do justice to the full complexity of late antique society. Chronological Change: Continuity and Rupture Whilst I have argued for continuity in the form of urban public space with the Early Imperial city, I do not mean this to be seen as uneventful continuity, without any

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004423824_009

Conclusion: Themes and Controversies

character worth describing, or that there are not specific changes to account for. Rather, I have been arguing against a general model of rupture within Late Antiquity that might explain developments across the board. Here, I review chronological changes in public space, saving discussion for the subsequent section, of my own ideas of what type of society can be deduced from the evidence collected. My analysis seeks to move away from conceptual models of continuity and change, based say on ‘world-views’ or on different genres of evidence, towards those based on architectural facts. Here, the relativist should not panic: gravel surfaces and water pipes are not as subjective as one might imagine, as a yardstick of civic development. My goal is to identify specific dated changes based on quantitative evidence of building, and to evaluate types of continuity, without mixing all of this up into one general model of ‘what changed in Late Antiquity?’. There always was change in earlier Antiquity, and sometime rupture. In certain domains, we find that ‘rupture’ occurs in the 2nd c., in others in the 3rd c., in others in the 5th c., even within the Mediterranean heartlands. Furthermore, changes in some aspects of life came quicker than others and may not have been connected. As ever, the solution to historical problems comes in taking special care with chronology. This helps us to move away from the assertive narratives and simplistic correlations which allow us to launch careers and to sell books. That said, there are some real empire-wide processes that can be discerned, which deserve description and explanation. Not all of these can be examined here, as the data I have considered in this study is not broad enough to produce results for all of them. Therefore, I will not be evaluating economic decline or urban recession in any given region, nor the impact of a specific barbarian invasion. We can observe the great crash of the 7th c. in the Balkans and Asia Minor: this comes through clearly in data for building works, but it is not new to scholars. I can also tentatively suggest a 6th c. recovery of civic building in the West, which pre-dates the ʻReconquestʼ of Justinian and which extends beyond its borders. Graph 60, resuming all secular building work, is perhaps the most remarkable result for the study of long-term change: it shows a steady growth in works during the 4th c. reaching a peak just before the battle of Adrianople. It then shows a decline to a mid 5th c. nadir, before rising again in the East to a level comparable to the 4th c. The second peak does not fall again until the last quarter of the 6th c., suggesting very little impact of the plague on civic finances. But these overall patterns are not what I wish to discuss here. Rather, I examine chronological changes to public space in political, social, commercial, religious, and cultural terms, against the incidence of major historical processes,

419 with the simple intention of correlating dated changes in building work and behaviour. This method is at least capable of rendering some theories of causation unlikely and of suggesting others which might not have occurred to us. Careful attention to chronology thus helps us avoid ‘just-so’ stories about Late Antiquity in which cause and effect are muddled up to suit a historical model that sounds plausible from the prejudices of our own time. Chronology of Political Change Radical changes certainly occurred in the nature of urban administration during the 3rd c. Inflation destroyed civic endowments. Private benefactions fell to a very low level. Cities that had been ‘free’, or otherwise privileged, found themselves lumped together with others, now taxed uniformly. Most civic building was henceforth mainly about repair, except in provincial and imperial capitals.1 My study can point to recovery, in the West at least, from the third quarter of the 3rd c. But this book does not change the well-established picture of a 3rd c. rupture in civic politics, right across the empire. What can be challenged, perhaps, is the notion that the 4th c. saw a progressive ‘decline of the curia’. There does not appear to be any such steady decline in the building or repair of civic assets during this century around fora / agorai, such as porticoes, civil basilicas, plaza paving, or city council chambers. Rather, building works remain strong in Africa and in the East in the second half of the 4th c. and even in the early 5th c., at sites such as Nora, Iol Caesarea, Sabratha, Athens, Smyrna, Tripolis ad Meandrum, Aphrodisias, and Sagalassos. City councils operated at a new lower level from 250 onwards but were not henceforth experiencing a steady decline. If one is looking for a major rupture in civic building, supported by archaeology and epigraphy, it comes rather in the second or third decade of the 5th c., when civic building work, like civic honorific statuary, reduced sharply. The same is even true of road repairs and work on sewers, which had been very widely spread in all types of cities across the empire, at places as different as Carthage, Sala in Pannonia, Nicopolis ad Istrum, Thracian Philippopolis, Argos, Thasos, and Patara. Undoubtedly, there is a Tetrarchic / early 4th c. bounce for some categories of building, where one can see a period of investments, but one should not imagine that the ‘decline of the curia’ has any basis in observable building work. It is rather a perception of the legal texts and of some contemporaries, who could not accept the institutional changes that their cities had witnessed. 1  Inflation and taxation in the 3rd c.: Carrié (2007). Private benefactions reduced to a very low level: Ward-Perkins (1984) 20; Lepelley (1979) 304–14; Lewin (1995) 95–96; Di Segni (1995) 331.

420 Within the 4th c., a certain amount of chronological variation is visible in the intensity of building work. After the mid-3rd c., there seems to have been a determined attempt to ʻget back to normalʼ, starting not under Diocletian, but slightly before, in places as far-flung as Caistor, Gloucester, Complutum, Ostia, and Palmyra. Otherwise, it is difficult to trace high and low points in building, except at Rome, in Italy, and in Africa. The chronological variation of African building work does seem to correlate with civic policies of 4th c. emperors, as Lepelley noted.2 Further, repairs to fora / agorai and city council chambers were widely attested (see graph 45a), with statues and other honours filling both. There is plenty of evidence that council meetings and civic ceremonies continued, with much of this being from the last quarter of the 4th c., and sometimes from the first quarter of the 5th c., which was the peak time for investment in curiae / bouleuteria and related buildings, including repairs and new building at Exeter, Vallis, Sabratha, Athens, and Antioch, not just at Rome and Constantinople. African building on public space does perhaps see a downturn from the 370s, but it is not extinction.3 At sites such as Lambaesis and Sabratha, major rebuilding works were taking place to fora, the first with an imperial grant in 364–67, and the latter with some fanfare, from 364 onwards. Sufetula got three large fountains in 364–67, and Thamugadi and Cuicul both got a basilica vestiaria in the same years. At Mustis, public building, perhaps on the forum, was also restored in 364–67. Then, we see rather less, with rebuilding at Madauros in 399–400, whilst at Abthugni the forum was improved in 376–77. Italian fora do seem in crisis in the south in the second half of the century, perhaps because cities were unable to recover from earthquakes, with most places seeing little secular building work after the 350s. Can we talk of a civic recession in Italy before the time of Alaric? Perhaps, but it seems to be localised and shows no sign of affecting Rome and Ostia. Sometime in the middle decades of the 5th c., occasionally before, the West saw a radical deterioration in the quality of its urban amenities, manifested not only in the end of civic public building but also in the buildup of silt, across streets and squares, as well as in the incidence of spoliation. Only at Rome and its ports did secular public building continue on any scale, with fora and porticoes still repaired. Spain seems to have done less badly at this time than other parts of the West: there is a fountainhead dedicated at Tarraco and a new road surface in Emerita, amongst other evidence, although none of it is impressive. In the East, there was 2  Lepelley (1979) 72–111, esp. 102 and 104. 3  Leone pers. comm. July 2016.

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also a massive recession in secular public building in the middle decades of the century, with very few repairs outside of the capital. But here streets and public plazas continued to be kept clean. Significantly, the cases of church building considered in this study (no matter how unrepresentative they might be) do not show the same mid-5th c. dip, suggesting that we are dealing primarily with a fiscal, rather than an economic crisis, which was limited in its impact, and fell particularly heavily on city councils. This crisis did not correlate directly with political change. It was felt not just in the West or the Balkans, but in Asia Minor and the Levant, where city councillors and urban patrons certainly did not disappear. Constantinople seems not have been affected: here, new fora with honorific columns were erected throughout the middle decades of the 5th c., to Marcian, Leo, and others, the Basilica courtyard was rebuilt, a new tetrapylon erected, and at least one street portico was constructed anew. Elsewhere in the East, we can only point to Athens as seeing significant public building work in the mid-5th c. This was likely done with some imperial support, to honour an empress who was born there. What caused the mid-5th c. recession in public building work is open to debate. When one considers the evidence from across the West, some decline is visible in the late 4th to early 5th c., but not all at the same time: in Britain, work stops completely around 400, but not in Spain (Cartagena sigma plaza), nor Africa (Carthage sewers, streets; Iol Caesarea forum restoration; Sabratha forum portico; Vallis curia; Lepcis statues), nor Sardinia (Nora forum portico). In these latter regions, work continues at a modest level into the 430s / the second quarter of the 5th c., when dated by archaeology. When one looks to the East, there is also evidence of building in the first three decades of the 5th c. (as at Stobi, Antioch, Beirut, and Jerusalem), before a significant hiatus outside the imperial capital. What might be driving this reduction in civic building in both East and West: a reduction reflected in a collapse in civic services in the West, where silt builds up on paved surfaces, whilst it does not in the East? For Britain, we are looking at the rapid cessation of all major building works in cities: civic, domestic, and ecclesiastical. This seems to be related to the collapse of the Roman-British economy, as much of the lowland elite remained both Christian and Romanophile for at least another half century. In Italy, it is tempting to see Alaric’s incursion in the first decade of the 5th c. as producing a very great shock, just as it is also plausible to identify the Germanic invasions of 409 producing the crisis in Spain. However, for Rome and Ostia, this is not borne out by the dates of building work. In Africa, the arrival of the Vandals seems to provide more plausible grounds for a similar loss of faith there. For the eastern

Conclusion: Themes and Controversies

provinces, there were no comparable invaders but there was still a reduction in investment. Perhaps the cost of eastern foreign policy in the mid-5th c., from paying the Huns to the costs of the disastrous missions to recapture Africa, led to an undocumented diversion of civic resources to the eastern fisc, for a number of decades. Towards the end of the 5th c., in territories controlled by the eastern empire, fora / agorai began to be repaired again, as were streets, sewers, and water pipes, not to mention fortifications, baths, and some entertainment structures. This repair work was most common in provincial capitals, but also spread to places like Smyrna, Sagalassos, Xanthos, or Gaza. These examples demonstrate that the ʻnotablesʼ led by the pater and bishop, did provide competent civic leadership. There may have been fewer new-built civic buildings in the later 5th and 6th c. than in the 4th c., or even slightly more, but not none at all: a single portico, for example, might still be constructed, whilst some very large-scale investments were made in regional centres and imperial foundations. In contrast, in the West, archaeological or epigraphic traces of any kind of civic activity are hard to find in the later 5th and 6th c. We can read the laws relating to cities written under Theodoric or note textual and epigraphic examples of his building works. We might equally envisage the continued existence of curiales in barbarian kingdoms in certain documents. But structural evidence of public building is hard to find, outside of Rome, in contrast to adjustments to aqueducts and repairs to fountains known from Spain. In wider Ostrogothic Italy, serious archaeological evidence to match textual records of civic public building is missing, as is any archaeological evidence for the same subject from Vandal Africa.4 The implication is that, in Italy, public space fell apart just as badly as it did in the rest of the West, outside of major cities. This forms a contrast to evidence for repairs to streets and squares under the ʻReconquestʼ administration, in both Italy and Africa. Perhaps Ostrogothic Italy has simply had too good a press, thanks to eloquence of Cassiodorus. One aspect of the recovery of civic building work is marked by radical change: the civic constructions of the late 5th and 6th c. appear to involve only a selection of the standard public structures that were maintained prior to the 430s. Until this time, city council chambers, 4   Civic public building in Ostrogothic Italy, textual sources: Fauvinet-Ranson (2006). For Vandal Africa, a single example is known of a fountain that is thought to have been built in this period, from Thibilis, see appendix H6. Leone’s review of all African evidence from the 5th c. is particularly revealing: she can only suggest one schola at Carthage and work on the Byrsa palace in the same city (pp. 164–65 table 12), alongside the restoration of Baths at Thuburbo Maius in the ‘5th c.’ pp. 143–44 table 9.

421 civil basilicas, and market buildings had been part of a standard kit of Roman civic buildings on fora, appearing alongside temples. The same had been true of agorai, with some variation in the popularity of the civil basilica. But now, public plazas seem to be made up essentially of porticoes and gate structures. Inside were just a few decorative monuments and functional fittings, such as honorific columns, small fountains, and clocks. The old civic political buildings were simply discarded (see graphs 45 and 55). Civil basilicas were only retained as settings for the law courts in a few provincial and imperial capitals: at Ephesus, Aphrodisias, and Constantinople (if one takes the wide porticoes of the Basilica courtyard as fulfilling this function). Furthermore, on streets, the number of new nymphaea and more elaborate triumphal monuments fell considerably, even if porticoes, wallarches, and sigma plazas were built aplenty. The look of this new style public space was remarkably reductionist, with no counterbalancing addition from Christianity. It does represent a rupture in the appearance of city centres. When one considers that the ‘notables’ maintained baths, theatres, latrines, and fortifications, the contrast is even starker. Clearly there had been a radical shift in what cities wished to retain from the earlier centuries of Antiquity, a shift that took place in the middle decades of the 5th c. The revived ancient city of ʻnotablesʼ and bishops was administered well but used a very different set of buildings to those employed by city councils in earlier times. Chronology of Social Change One idea propagated by Wolfgang Liebeschuetz, drawing on Simon Ellis and others, is that local political life effectively went inside the houses of the wealthy in the 4th or 5th c., so privatising the government of the city.5 In this model, the political life of Late Antiquity represented discontinuity with what went before. Quite apart from the evidence of processions, this view can be countered with evidence of broad civic participation, via meetings of the people in the theatre, through the honours to which their name was attached, and through the minuted acclamations of the adventus.6 Although civic government was oligarchic, it seems that was consensual, up to a point: wealth, skill, and power were too widely spread to have it any other way. Can we evaluate these claims based on dated evidence of changes to public space? The dedication of 5  Government behind closed doors: Liebeschuetz (1992) 2. 6  Assemblies in theatres: confirmed for the 4th to early 5th c. in Rome, Antioch, Gaza, Alexandria, Oxyrhnchus, and perhaps for the 6th c. at Ephesus. I intend to treat the evidence for this in another work but see Lavan (2007) 154.

422 statues in streets and squares, to both local bigwigs and governors, was so often related to ties of patronage but this did not prevent public honours. Members of councils were still honoured in some regions, essentially in Africa, Italy, Greece, and Asia Minor. By the mid-5th c., such statue dedications are extremely rare, and public meetings in theatres are no longer attested, whilst those held in churches seem more specific and less ‘free’.7 Can we see, in the drop of civic statue dedications, a change in the form of civic government, towards more personal, informal, and ʻprivatisedʼ ways of doing things? Probably not: in places where we have good documentation, in the form of inscriptions or texts, as at Smyrna, Aphrodisias, or Gaza, we see notables engaged with their citizens in surprisingly similar ways to earlier centuries, via evergetism or via rituals. The acclamations of Aphrodisias for Albinus suggest that public ceremonies continued into the time of Justinian. Rather, the decline in honorific statue dedication, to civic figures, seems to be a function of the wider decline in civic building seen in the 5th c. It is true that 4th c. civic statues to local people tend to honour curiales, and those of 6th c. date tend to honour notables, but the behaviour of which the dedications are part does not look that different between the two centuries. If we are looking for an early rupture in the form of dedications, then, as the Oxford Statues Project has made clear, it is in the greater number of governors as a proportion of civic honorific statues. This is a change of the 3rd c. A.D., not later, and is certainly not associated with the 5th c. rise of notables nor of bishops to positions of civic leadership. The rise in the wealthy domus as a centre of political power during Late Antiquity reveals similar problems of chronology. The elites of the 4th c. did invest a good deal of money in the architecture of large townhouses, and in villas in the West. This investment contrasts sorely with the reduction of private expenses on the city itself, in comparison to the first two centuries A.D. Yet it was civic building that had seen a radical drop in investment, rather than housing having seen a radical rise. Domus are attested in cities earlier. Only in one region (Britain) has it been argued that such houses were on the increase within the 3rd to 4th c., and the extent of this growth is controversial. In a great number of cities, there were not obviously more elite houses than earlier: a good number saw subdivision. Impressions gained from provincial capitals, where the elite do seem to have clustered, and 7  Curial statue honours 3rd to mid 5th c.: Smith (2016) 4–5; WardPerkins (2016) 39 and LSA database. Statue honours of notables, after mid 5th c.: see ALA commentary V and VI. For later 6th c. examples, see Lenaghan (2019) on an example from Aphrodisias and Anth. Graec. 16.316 for three from Smyrna.

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there were consequently more late houses, should not beguile us. Neither should we be distracted by the remarks of Olympiodorus on senatorial palaces at Rome.8 These houses, like those of Constantinople, were on a much bigger scale than their counterparts elsewhere. There probably were some concentrations of wealth in this period, represented by the subdivision of some urban domus, whether at Emerita, Ephesus, or Xanthos. But this was a subtle change, not something revolutionary. Critically, the subsequent decline of investment in house building within the 5th c. does not seem to be associated with changes in the organisation of city councils. Rather, it was that much private investment which had gone into houses seems now to have gone into church building, which saw a dramatic increase at the same time. Grand houses did not benefit from a reduction in the amount of civic building in any noticeable way, but, instead, investment in them fell away at around the same time. In terms of data considered in this book, the rise of the pedimental porch for great houses did not overturn the nature of the street. Late antique house fronts were nowhere near as ostentatious on the street as were the façades of medieval merchants. In fact, porches, which seem to become more frequent at the start of our period, were soon confined within porticoes, no longer allowed to project from them. It is important to note the chronology of these porches: the examples we have suggest that they did not flourish when traditional city councils no longer functioned, but whilst they were still active, in the 3rd or 4th c. Those at Ostia provide us with an impression of 4th c. Rome, not Rome of the 5th c. Domestic audience halls were now common and were sometimes directly accessible from the street, as at Ephesus, Aphrodisias, and Ptolemais.9 Nevertheless, such reception rooms were not new in themselves, and Pompeian houses often had benches outside on the street, likely for waiting clients, sometimes integrated as part of the façade.10 Vitruvius talks of vestibules, despite them not appearing in Vesuvian cities, suggesting that the domestic reception architecture went through many changes which we might consider late antique, at a much earlier 8   Investment in domus, 4th to early 5th c.: see Ellis (1988) and Bowes (2010), plus papers in Lavan, Özgenel and Sarantis (2007). Domus in British cities on the increase in comparison to artisan established within Late Roman period: Millett (1990) 141–42, though challenged by Faulkner (2000) 170. Elite houses clustering in provincial capitals: Wiseman (1973) on Stobi; Campbell (1996) on Aphrodisias; Rautman (1995) on Sardis; Balty (1984) on Apamea. Olympiodorus on senatorial palaces of Rome: Olympiodorus frag 41 (FGH 4.67). 9   Özgenel (2007) esp. 265, with Lavan (1999) entry on Ptolemais. 10  Audience hall in Early Empire: e.g. Ephesus, Thür (2011). Pompeian house façades and benches: Hartnett (2008a).

Conclusion: Themes and Controversies

stage of development.11 We simply do not have the evidence from the 2nd and 3rd c. to set the chronology of house evolution against known historical processes. Whatever changes there were in domus architecture during Late Antiquity do not easily correlate with social change, the form itself is rarer, from the 5th c. onwards. Chronology of Economic Change Jones maintained that some artisans fled into the countryside, partly to escape unwanted burdens. He saw this happening in the 5th c. West, if not in the East. Much of the social portrait he paints for artisans, from textual evidence, appears gloomy, their contribution to economic life modest. However, we can now assert that economic life, specifically retail, remained central to cities throughout the period.12 This was manifested in public space. There was no measurable change, except perhaps in fortress cities of the frontier. Some centres still had specific institutions for dealing with retail. Plazas for stalls selling agricultural goods were still being built in the 4th to early 5th c., whilst macella for meat were a feature of 4th c. Ostia, 5th c. Constantinople, and 6th c. Antioch. At the same time, planned rows of shops and even sigma plazas, as well as more ad-hoc market halls, spread around the east and central Mediterranean. We cannot talk of a reduction in investment in shops, in comparison to any other type of building: rather, shops show the same patterns: of widespread investment in the 4th to early 5th c., then a mid-5th c. dearth, followed by a return to investment in selected larger centres from the late 5th c., reaching an all-time peak, alongside colonnaded streets, in the third quarter of the 6th c. (graph 57). In place of a ʻflight of the artisansʼ, we can note greater prominence given to commerce: artisans were crowding / moving towards the centre of cities, not fleeing from them. Talk of the classical city becoming a commercial souk is, however, misplaced. The Early Islamic city does not seem to have more shops than its late antique predecessor, and any decisive loosening of regulation which might have favoured commerce does not belong within the first century of Islamic rule in the Near East. Whatever privileges artisanal associations were granted, they did not lead to any overturning of the essential aesthetic values of the classical city, prior to 750. Finally, the continuation of bourgades without any public space, alongside cities which had lost their monumental character, testifies to the importance of large settlements as market towns, independent of the local political institutions which they might have hosted. 11  Vitr. De arch. 5.1–5.2, 7.3. 12  Flight of the artisans and their burdens: e.g. Jones (1964) 858– 59, 871–72, 1044.

423 Chronology of Religious Change Paganism experienced discontinuity, within and beyond public space. Sanctuaries in the East undoubtedly took a major blow from having their treasures and some cult statues removed by Constantine.13 But we should not otherwise see the reign of this emperor as representing a major rupture in their history. A number of regional studies now suggest that temple closure came at the end of a long process of decline, rather than initiating it. Pagan temples had faded, being constructed in tiny numbers during the 4th c., sometimes after two centuries of decline. This decline pre-dated and was independent of the drop in all classes of civic building works seen in the 3rd c.14 It came despite the support of the State for temple building / rededication, and came before the emperors’ fitful repression of cult. Temples continued to be built within fora / agorai, in the hearts of the cities, when they were rarely constructed elsewhere, a habit which continued throughout the reign of Constantine. These were clearly supported by imperial power, tending to focus on honours for the ruler or the city of Rome, rather than on more divisive cults that might attract opposition from Christian leaders. The rupture in new temple building and rededication around fora / agorai came not in the time of Constantine, nor of Theodosius, but rather in that of Constantine’s sons. Repairs continued, but new temple building did not. Henceforth, ciboria and other sacella supplanted temples as a place of honours for emperors or of cult. This development saw some imperial cult temples converted into other uses (as at Antioch, Alexandria, Ostia), but was not accompanied by iconoclasm. It might be associated with other changes in modes of honouring the emperor, which were not so dramatic. Around the same time, we see a move from honorific arches to tetrapyla: in the 350s it was still acceptable to honour Divus Constantinus, as founder of the dynasty, on such a monument. The next rupture concerning temples is at the end of the 4th c., when repairs stop. I suspect that this change really does relate to the Theodosian legislation of the early 390s, which brought closure.15 Oddly, at Rome and 13  Sanctuaries in the East despoiled for treasures and cult statues by Constantine after victory over Licinius: Euseb. Vit. Const. 3.54. There is no mention of sanctuaries in the West being affected here. 14  Long process of decline in temple building: Lavan (2011a) xlxlix. Regional studies: Bagnall (1993) 260–68; (2008) 33–35, Dijkstra (2011), Sears (2011), Walsh (2016). 15  End of repairs to temples, ca. A.D. 395: Africa: Sears (2011) 232–33 and 236; Italy, outside of Rome: Goddard (2006) 303 table 1. I am presently undertaking a wider study including the East, which confirms an absence of repairs after the end of the 4th c., except in Constantinople, which like Rome extends into the first quarter of the 6th c.

424 Constantinople, repairs continue until the earlier 6th c. One repair is even known at Rome, within a few years of the Theodosian laws, coming in 399 / 400. It seems likely that the end of repairs elsewhere represents an indirect impact of temple closure. Other types of architectural rupture should not be exaggerated, despite what imperial laws might lead us to expect. There is no clear horizon of temple destruction, comparable to great waves of religious iconoclasm in other periods. The record of temple destruction around fora / agorai shows little that is striking, except at a few prominent eastern sites. Indeed, the record of destruction and change for civil basilicas is more impressive than is that for temples. Eastern conversions of temples, prior to the end of the 4th c., seem to have involved transforming them into secular public buildings, with one exception, at Alexandria. Some temples were simply not rebuilt after a disaster, as at Sabratha. The conversion of temples of fora / agorai into churches was not a significant process either. It seems to conform to the new general dating of temple conversions to the later 5th to 6th c., long after any period of active conflict relating to imperial laws. Often, old temples were left in place without being converted into churches, as on public squares at Tarraco, Ilici, Rome, Thugga, Sufetula, and Athens. Such survivals occurred in regions where there had been relatively more repair or building of temples in the 4th c., suggesting that local preferences led to preservation, rather than any centrally-imposed directives. The appearance of monumental churches in public space was of course something new. Initially, the marginal position of churches within cities reflected their origin as private cult buildings. One finds churches on the peripheries of cities, not only because they were set on the tombs of martyrs in extra-mural cemeteries.16 Thus, the building of churches in city centres, on civic plazas, was a significant development. Again, it is important to watch dating. In so many centres, this change came too late to be meaningful, in terms of Christian rivalries with paganism or with traditional civic institutions. Neither was this a process which occurred everywhere: Scythopolis had a hilltop cathedral, but its civic centre was not dominated by the monuments of any religious confession. Where churches were built alongside civic plazas, their numbers were very small, whilst many churches were built in other settings. This positioning occurs only in 4 cases in the 4th c., of which 3 involve 16  Churches peripheral within cities: Cantino Wataghin (2003), drawing on Duval (1991). Mithraea, become more prominent over time, initially not being located on fora or in very central locations like classical temples: D. Walsh pers. comm. with Walsh (2019) 17–20 noting prominent examples in 3rd-4th c. Rome.

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high profile imperial projects. In the 5th c., there are a few more, 2 in ordinary cities in Africa. Then, in the 6th to early 7th c., we see 6 or 7 more, but not dramatic numbers, even if there are as many examples that are not closely dated. The church as a building seems to have been simply the latest classical architectural form to arrive on the forum / agora. It sat alongside others, not as a dominant type. Its arrival did not mean the end of civic public space. There were plenty of vibrant cities where a new church sat on the edge of an agora, not on top of it. This was the case at Philippi, where work on secular public buildings continued. A major change in public space, that does correspond with the changing fortunes of Christianity, can be found in the rise of Christian processions, which seems to occur in the later 4th c., at the earliest in the 360s, rather than in the reign of Constantine. To this earlier time, we can date the specific secular honour of granting a civic adventus to bishops, which was in place by 356. The restriction of all pagan processions seems to have been accomplished in the late 4th c., although this did not affect festival processions. In Constantinople, non-orthodox Christian processions disappeared from the city centre around the same time. The appearance of crosses in inscriptions seems to be a specific fashion of the early 5th c., whereas cross monuments came later, most likely in the 6th c. Iconoclasm visible in archaeology, in the form of statue modifications, also looks to be far later than we once imagined, likely around 500, and it mostly seems very tame. When an earthquake struck Laodicea in Phyrgia, in the time of Phocas (602–610), a nymphaeum on a major avenue still exhibited not only a statue of Nike but also a relief featuring Ganymede, the lover of Zeus. There was no rupture here. It is easy to miss the significance of such continuity in writing histories of Christianisation, in which one’s attention is drawn to impressive but unrepresentative examples of statue damage. Until the later 6th c., the city was in most places still the late antique or later antique city: the Classical City with churches, rather than a city built around the Church. The monumental urbs christiana, with its comprehensive stational liturgies, was not consolidated until the time of Gregory the Great, around 600, when secular public monumentality had ground to a halt in the West, if not quite yet in the East. Chronology of Cultural Change Perhaps the most continuous aspect of late antique public space was its long historical memory. This was based on authentic, rather than invented, cultural continuity, sometimes slightly embroidered, and on a desire to preserve and foster memories. It involved displaying monumental texts and statues, within architectural settings

Conclusion: Themes and Controversies

425

built many centuries earlier. One might be sceptical about the authenticity of a ʻGreat Traditionʼ of civic life. We might imagine such claims, when made by Libanius or Procopius, to be ideology propagated by reactionaries, keen to envelop their world in anachronistic language, which harked back to an idealised classical city. But such notions do not easily survive contact with archaeological evidence for small-scale repair, especially in the Aegean. Some of these repairs perpetuated the form of public spaces many centuries old, as in the partial rebuilding of porticoes at Ephesus and Sagalassos, whilst others actually reinforced their traditional function, as with the ramps on agorai for animals at Magnesia, Ephesus, and Philippi. The use of pedimental porches gave a conservative façade to new developments, even if they were likely to have come from temples. Some traditions did wane: in Greece, the Hellenistic stoa declined, whilst, in Britain, civil basilicas fell into disuse some time before fora were abandoned. Yet, great continuity of agorai is visible in cities around the Aegean: here, cities kept up their traditional propylea and colonnades, without adopting the West’s fashion for improved walking surfaces. This was not an especially rich region, hoping to project its ideology beyond its borders, but rather a conservative one, conscious of its past, which sought to preserve its architectural heritage. It was a conservative area in ethno-cultural terms but not in religious terms. This zone of agora repair, as well as Greece, included Asia Minor, where Christianisation was more obvious. Civic commitment to a traditional Hellenic urban style did not have to reflect crypto-paganism. If one is looking for ruptures breaks within public space, then they are observable in the treatment of monumental art. However, Christianisation does not correlate with any easily observable rupture. It can only be seen in the removal of cult statues from temples. This does happen, for redisplay elsewhere, under Constantine in the East, during 324–37, but in the West it comes later, at Abthugni in 375–78, at Rome (Basilica Julia) in 377, at Ostia in 385–89, at Thubursicu Numidarum in 360–63, or at times difficult to determine, as at Aquileia sometime in 285–373 and at Verona in 300–410. It is significant that such statue removal occurs at a time when imperial statues in temples / small temple-like structures were still being dedicated. There undoubtedly were temples in which statues were smashed by religious iconoclasts. But, so far, we lack much archaeological evidence of this within Mediterranean cities, in contrast to the mithraea of the Germanic frontiers. Here such evidence exists but its distribution is more easily associated with the ingress of invaders.17

The persistence of redisplayed secularised statues in public space, in the 5th and even 6th c., at Rome, Ephesus, Constantinople, Antioch, and Caesarea Palestinae, suggests something different: that cult statues kept their value for redisplay. The rededication evidence is significant: it suggests that these images were removed from temples gradually in the mid-4th c. rather than during a wave of Iconoclasm in the 390s. A much sharper cultural rupture in monumental art can be seen in secular statue landscapes in the 3rd c., and earlier 4th c. We have limited evidence, but it appears that many cities, from Rome to Sabratha to Aphrodisias, comprehensively rationalised their statue landscapes at this time, sometimes after a disaster, sometimes not. Whilst not unprecedented, the scale of statue editing at this time was significant, creating a ʻhorizon of forgettingʼ over which to build new political imagery. There was later, in the 6th c., a more systematic rationalisation in the East, seen at some places such as Philippi or Ephesus, where agorai were slowly or systematically cleared of statue monuments, as the statue habit began to be less important to some people. In comparison, the arrival of Christian imagery in public space represents a relatively minor change, a decorative development, rather than a rupture, in many places. The impact of Christianity in public art is not at all comparable say to the iconoclasm seen in mosaics of Levantine churches, during the 720s, which probably occurred in response to an edict of Caliph Yazid I.18 Medieval European cities demolished and rebuilt their architecture whenever they had the resources, disregarding what went before. In contrast, late antique cities deliberately preserved buildings that were up to 1,000 years old, sometimes older. In a place like Athens, and perhaps in Antioch, the architectural envelopment of the past could become so total as to give one the feeling that the aged buildings of public space had been there forever. Only a careful observer would have known that there was in fact a change: few Early Imperial statue monuments now survived; specific building types had fallen out of use; new shops were squeezed into empty corners. A few fashionable additions, such as horologia, took their place in part of the main plaza. Secularised art works might enhance a city’s identification with Antiquity, whilst also being an innovation. But the overwhelming atmosphere was undoubtedly of simple continuity, of the classical city, from Spain and Africa, to Italy and Greece, to Asia Minor and the Levant. No internal cultural process within the period altered this. Inherited architecture did not, of course, survive equally everywhere, neither within the same city nor within

17  Mithraea and iconoclasm: Walsh (2019) 85–88 (Germanic invaders) 78–84 (Christians, possible and likely).

18  Iconoclasm in Levantine church mosaics: Bowersock (2006) 91–111.

426 different regions. The uneven nature of earthquake damage meant that parts of Ephesus were untouched by late rebuilding, whereas others were reconstructed in very different styles. The occurrence of war, especially in the northern Balkans and Gaul, made for more rupture than continuity: landscapes of fortifications, churches, and stores were built over the ruins of earlier cityscapes. Here was a new late antique city, one without the classical public buildings of the Mediterranean polis. Yet, despite these changes, fortress cities were no more resistant to decay or sudden collapse than the conservative cities of the Mediterranean, when real challenges arrived. Quality of Continuity In assessing the quality of continuity, I am sometimes tempted to present the late antique city as the fully mature ancient polis, a position I took in terms of the evolution of its political culture in my doctoral thesis. This makes the changes of the period seem neither neutral nor negative, but somehow to represent the climax of the long-term development of Mediterranean urban civilisation. But I would not extend this idea to characterise the late antique public spaces considered in the present book. I did start off this work believing that Constantinople was the ultimate fulfilment of Hellenistic urban design, with its colonnaded avenues, spectacular street ornaments, and linear monumentality. This can be confirmed to a degree: the materials and craftsmanship of the capital were of a very high quality: both as seen in the city and as reflected in some great building projects at other sites which were probably inspired by the capital: at Philippopolis, Ephesus, Thessalonica, and Alexandria. From the dated evidence I have seen, Constantinople does not seem to have been a city of poorly built structures, until after Justin II, at the earliest. Rather, it was a centre of architectural experiment. What it does not have is the joined-up urban monumentality seen earlier in Palmyra or Lepcis Magna. Rather, it presents a series of discrete monumental elements, connected by great avenues. So, the cities of the late antique period were built by drawing on established traditions, but to new standards, with some fresh ideas thrown in, and some practices entirely forgotten. Furthermore, I have observed, in 4th c. West and in part of the later 6th c. East, many aesthetic disjunctures. From them, I have revised my view of the period. Even though Levantine cities seem richer in the 5th–6th c. than they were in the 2nd to 3rd c., there are, almost everywhere, ruptures which separate the 4th c. from what went earlier. Such disjunctures are most visible in Asia Minor. Here they are common, and better preserved

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than in southern Greece. In Asia Minor, porticoes are irregularly spaced; statues are balanced on steps; fountains are modified carelessly; quarry-ready pedestals are used alongside older finely-cut bases; piers and columns can be set in irregular combinations; older structures are given staircases or ramps in a manner which looks unsymmetrical or disruptive of wider space. These breakpoints may have been caused by a cessation of large scale-building work in the mid-3rd c., after which the standards of the Severan era were never equalled, neither in construction quality nor in urban aesthetics. There we can still find ambitious building projects and examples of exquisite craftsmanship. We see also subtle improvements in the technology of urban amenity, from the use of hanging oil lamps, to lead pipes replacing ceramic tubes, innovations in the protection of drains and in maintenance features related to sewers or fresh water supplies. But across much of the empire, the incidence of earlier levels of expertise seems less frequent, probably resulting from the different patterns of patronage within ordinary cities. Such communities had once produced a rich working environment for builders and architects. Now, in many regions, neither modest civic funds, nor imperial grants, nor the finances of the Church were able to replicate this: except, of course, the whole of the Greater Near East, from Cilicia to Egypt, and in parts of Thrace, surrounding and including the capital. The hinterlands of Alexandria, Antioch, and Constantinople continued as before, but now facing new directions. In the architecture of public space, I would now see the late antique city as being a ‘second wind’ of the ancient city, or even a ‘new’ ancient city, rather than a climax of the old, in the same way that North American cities represent the expression of European urban concepts, in a manner largely unseen in Europe. For human behaviour within public space, it might be possible to consider the period as a climax in terms of the wide diffusion of imperial ceremony, such as the adventus, to provincial cities. But a ‘climax model’ does not suit many types of activity. Changes in this area were driven by shifting cultural patterns, rather than by any linear progressions. Thus, the refocusing of elite display onto churches, with processions to churches, rather than onto houses, with processions from houses to fora / agorai, is part of the Christianisation of the period. The decline of distinctive triumphs, around the early 5th c., which coincides with a drop in the dedication of honorific arches, seems equally like a cultural development. Emperors were now giving thanks in church, and through ecclesiastical processions. One ceremonial language was being replaced by another. But the rise of daylight funeral processions, as opposed to those held at night, was not exclusively Christian. It is hard to explain,

Conclusion: Themes and Controversies

unless by an ever-increasing role for the street in mediating social display. Again, the loss of macella specialising in fish defies any teleological thinking, especially when one sees how the macellum of Thasos now operated. If one regards the emergence of a prominent petite-bourgeoisie as an advance for the classical city, then one might sense some progress in the increased visibility of shops. But it is far from sure that the balance of commercial interests in relation to political power was affected by the new arrangements. Given the location of new shops, it looks more likely that their appearance reflects a reorganisation of the institutions of local administration, which still retained overall control. It is easier to see somewhat random cultural preferences at work rather than long-term directional change. Thus, the late antique city cannot in all respects be seen as the ‘fulfilment’ of the classical city. Could it be considered to be the natural parent of the Byzantine or medieval European city? This is again a difficult claim to make. So much of the late antique city was entirely lost in the troubles of the 7th c. or was discarded in the 9th c. when prosperity returned. This is especially true of the secular traditions of city life on which I have focused. Of course, in ecclesiastical terms, the late antique period sees the establishment of the topography of the medieval and Byzantine city. The urban location of churches and Christian charitable institutions was established in this period, and their fabric endured into the High Middle Ages, in both East and West, in many cases. The legal framework of landholding also survived: late antique land donations and divisions continued to have an impact, centuries later, as did patterns of fortification and cemetery development. Despite this, in terms of public space, the rupture between the late antique city and its medieval successor was great. The physical infrastructure of fountains, ordered shops, and sidewalks was almost universally lost, as were public meeting places, outside of churches. Palaces survived, sometimes accompanied by a basic water supply and a legal framework for property and civic government. The latter might be reflected in the survival of a street grid. But post-antique urbanism was commonly polyfocal: more like a garden city than a conurbation.19 The absence of new stone paving for streets during the Early Middle Ages reveals the degree of change that cities had experienced. Late antique cities were places in which one could lounge in the main street playing dice on the paving, with nuisance regulated by law, by inspections, and by cleaning, whereas Early Medieval streets were muddy, liable to flooding, and provided no separation

19  Palaces survival: Brühl (1975), (1990). Water supply: Martínez Jiménez (2011) and (2012).

427 between vehicular traffic and the pedestrian, as far as I know. In the Umayyad Near East, there was certainly great continuity, but not without change. Classical-style streets persisted, in many if not all places, although the buildings behind the colonnades changed. This residual classical urban image seems to have been lost in Abbasid times, though precisely when is not currently clear. Constantinople might be held up as another exception. It was certainly unlike any other city within the Medieval Byzantine Empire. But even here some apparent continuity, such as the use of the Forum of Constantine for imperial ceremonial, seems to be an innovation of the Middle Byzantine period, just as the triumphs of Justinian seems to have marked a reinvention of his time. Quite how many of the arcaded porticoes of the Mese survived into later periods is difficult to judge. At least one arcaded walkway survived in Rome, at St. Paul’s Outside the Walls, where a new-built ʻstreetʼ portico of 8th c. date seems identical in style to a late antique construction. For Constantinople, the 9th c. Book of the Prefect attests to rows of shops, on the ancient model, but were these porticoes in any way uniform? A 13th c. depiction from Arta suggests that arcaded colonnades continued, although they may have been obscured by later constructions, as were porticoes in the Forum of Constantine. It is very likely that the original paving of most public squares would now have been buried, as it was in the Augusteion, and was on the Lower Mese. The medieval paving of the city should not be assumed to be antique. The remains of porticoes studied at Ostia and Stobi suggest to us that both Roman and Constantinopolitan colonnades would have been reinforced with piers, braced with iron rings, and selectively blocked, over time. It will take many years of research and publication in Istanbul to determine exactly which fragments of Antiquity really persisted within the urban fabric of the Middle and Late Byzantine periods, although the continued display of ancient statuary is remarkable. Processions seem to present the most substantial legacy of the late antique city to subsequent centuries. There was some direct hang-over into the Middle Ages, for secular processions such as the adventus, and a few punishment parades, but it is mainly through the activities of the Church that processional culture and processional topography have remained. The street drama seen in a place like Antioch, with its festival corteges and patronal parades, or in golden showers at New Year did not survive into the Middle Ages, any more than regulated traffic, parking zones, and extensive pedestrianisation survived in a city like Ephesus. Nobody seems to have cared about the provision of gameboards, sundials, and street lamps to the same extent ever again. Is it possible

428 that in some part of medieval Constantinople things were different, and urban regulation preserved a higher degree of order? Perhaps, but probably only where a financial interest or a civic tax survived. If systematic street cleaning came to an end here, then many other civic services likely went with it. Admittedly, the legal framework of landholding survived in many places in the Mediterranean, although the process of continuity can only be fully traced in Italy. Clear ruptures in landholding within Late Antiquity, seen in the replanning of Herdonia, and in fora across Africa, should remind us how frequently this was not the case. A wider sense of the sociability of the polis, of decorum and honour of its street culture, at the level of streets and squares, does not shine through anywhere, except perhaps in the civic cultures of North-Central Italy, were the survival of secular political life is impressive.20 Whatever that political culture was, its material trace now largely escapes us, whilst it is overwhelmingly present in settings such as Scythopolis, Ephesus, and Aphrodisias. What does this mean to any of us today, when walking through a major European city? One could argue that the triumphal arches of the 19th c. would never have been built had the form not been retained by Constantine and his 4th c. successors: earlier arches might have been demolished in Late Antiquity, leaving no trace to imitate. The same is true of honorific columns. In contrast, late antique tetrapyla and nymphaea have not left a legacy of imitators. Neither the processional avenues of Renaissance popes, nor those of French emperors, authentically reflect the form of the ancient colonnaded street, even if the streets of Diocletianʼs Palace might perhaps have provided some inspiration. Reinvention rather than transmission was at work. We might wish to thank Late Roman and Early Medieval civic authorities for the survival of the ancient street grid, but we now sense nothing of planned late antique modifications to it. The stylish portico floors and substantial sidewalks of Late Antiquity were lost in the chaos of the Middle Ages, even if we might well wish to revive them. The commercial and civic amenity seen in the 6th c. East is now easy to admire, but we seem to have lost it completely. Our own traditions of irregular sidewalks and functional street lighting have nothing to do with it. The ancient civic square is gone and the few cases where it does survive, as at Terracina, are not proven stratigraphically. Only in the south of Europe is the impact of late antique processional culture still now really unavoidable, through the continuing influence of religious rituals, although the carnival culture of the Rhineland and

20  Survival of civic political life, north and central Italy: WardPerkins (1984) esp. 178–99.

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Low Countries may owe something to the Kalends, a suggestion I have not explored within this work. Regional Variation: A Late Antique Urban Koine? Having looked at variation over time, we shall now turn to look at variation across space. The existence of a late antique urban koine needs more than my own instinct as a researcher to underpin it. I have made my view of processions clear: that there existed an empire-wide repertoire of many types of street spectacle. Similar conclusion could be drawn from the character of the literary sources consulted for this book: the Expositio totius mundi et gentium gives a catalogue of ‘splendid cities’ across the whole empire, whilst the writings of travellers such as Augustine, Libanius, or Himerius, describe cities in different Mediterranean regions with little awareness of marked differences, whether writing personal letters, encomia, or other texts. There are admittedly writers who differ, such as Ausonius who picks up the differences between southern and northern Gaul, but the latter region is arguably in the late antique ‘periphery’ by this time. We can also turn to the physical evidence and compare city plans of various sites. This allows us to observe strong contrasts in sizes, between Mediterranean and frontier cities, but only small differences between cities within each region. Furthermore, we can see that ideas of planning shared around the empire produced new streets of similar width and created similar hierarchies between different kinds of street, with similar monumental elements found on major arteries. These background similarities, perhaps hardly worth remarking on, form the essential commonalities of the late antique city. That said, what specific remarks can be made in terms of the information presented in this book? The overall distribution of building work on public space (Map 17) shows well the extent of the koine, if not much of its regional trajectories. It was made up of a core region bordered by a periphery. In the 4th c., civic construction extended across the West as well as East, from southern Britain, Spain and parts of Gaul, to Cilicia, Palestine, and Egypt. Within this core region, the ʻalpha regionsʼ outlined in the introduction, fashions for individual building types changed over time, but an interest endured for well-ordered retail, monumental streets, and, to a certain extent, for civic squares. The lower level of investments in such features, in northern Gaul, Noricum, Pannonia, and much of the Danube, confirms the character of this peripheral zone which now had a different kind of urban model, the ʻbeta regionsʼ (B) of the introduction, exemplified perhaps by the rebuilding of Paris. Only occasionally were elements from the classical city still implanted here, such as the colonnaded

Conclusion: Themes and Controversies

streets of Serdica, or the tetrapyla of Carnuntum and Romuliana. From the second quarter of the 5th c., one can also distinguish between an ʻinner coreʼ (A1) and an ʻouter coreʼ (A2) in the ‘alpha regions’. The ‘inner core’ stretched from Edessa to Thessalonica, from Alexandria to Carthage. This area is represented fairly well by the highest concentration of dots on figure 1. Here, civic building work is registered even in the 6th c. This ‘inner core’ now even lapped the western edges of the Mediterranean, including coastal communities such as Terracina and Ilici, but it did not include either the uplands of Italy or the interior of Africa. It equated essentially to the urbanised world of the Hellenistic period. In contrast, the ‘outer core’ matched areas where the classical urban model had been spread by Roman rule. These areas were, after the early 5th c., rarely affected by building work on streets, plazas, and regulated market buildings of the classical style, even if their churches and fortifications were comparable to those of the ‘inner core’. In the 6th c., this ʻouter coreʼ (A2) became the new periphery, extending across Spain and Gaul, as far as Canterbury, in which Roman buildings existed mainly as ruins, and classical urban services were almost unknown. The old ‘beta regions’ either saw their cities persist (B1), in a condition comparable to the ‘outer core’, or saw urban centres vanish entirely (B2). Yet, this grading of regions does not imply real cultural plurality. There is little in the urban building work of the outer region to suggest an active rejection of the core. Rather, construction priorities in the periphery had to be different here, whilst some dream of Mediterranean urban forms remained. In this sense, there was still a koine but it was expressed in degrees. In spite of this, the popularity of specific architectural types does reveal some distinct regional preferences, where new buildings were erected: traditional arches were most popular in Africa; tetrakionia were favoured in Arabia; adapted façade nymphaea were installed in Asia Minor. It is clear that monuments were generally bigger in the Levant, than anywhere else: street widths, colonnade heights, agorai dimensions, tetrastyla sizes, and so on were larger. The quality of paving, mosaics, and much more was also superior in this region, if we focus on well-dated examples. A few differences were also visible on an East-West basis: paving was more popular for streets and fora in the West, whilst upstanding structures, such as gates and porticoes, were more often repaired in the East. There are also differences visible in imperial capitals, with certain types of monument being especially popular there, such as arches, tetrapyla, and honorific columns. But the degree of design variation within buildings of the same type is often surprisingly

429 low: an arcaded portico at Rome seems little different to one at Aphrodisias, or at Abu Mina; a tetrastylon at Ptolemais seems to have much in common with that at Apamea. Wide variations, as between the ʻsigma plazasʼ of Ostia and Cartagena, seem to be exceptions, explicable in terms of their early date, as much as any regional choice. Furthermore, some traits, such as stone road paving or investment in fountains, were widely shared and found across the period. The overall balance of building work, including repairs, is also is different between regions. In Britain, fora restorations were popular, whereas colonnaded streets were exceptionally rare. In Gaul, major cities received road paving of a standard and scale of execution not seen in all parts of the East, whilst almost no fora restorations are attested. In Africa, fora were again popular, as were fountains, but the colonnaded street did not make much headway. The Balkans had colonnaded streets, and some new plaza types but relatively few street ornaments. In Asia Minor, new plaza types were ignored, but colonnaded streets dominated. Therefore, we cannot speak of a single set of priorities for each region in public space. This is especially obvious in commercial space, with the Levant and Asia Minor opting heavily for the cellular shop whilst other regions invested in agorai or market buildings. However, it is also necessary to take a step back and note that public space shows a strong degree of variation in comparison to other types of building work in same period. Churches were found everywhere, as were the peristyle houses of the rich, alongside, aqueducts, latrines, and, almost everywhere, fortifications. Monasteries and charitable buildings were also increasingly common. Only entertainment buildings show significant regional variation. Thus, I am forced to admit that the koine was weaker for public space than it is for these other types of space in comparative terms. Nevertheless, this variation can still be set within a common framework, in which all elements were understood: there was a Roman ʻsalad bowlʼ of collected regional traditions, on which all cities drew. Common expectations of urban regulation existed over much and perhaps all of the inner and the outer ʻcoreʼ regions: archaeological and epigraphic evidence suggests this, even if we do not have surviving laws relating to them. Thus, a sidewalk on a monumental street at Autun was planned as a constituent part of a street, in a similar way to those at Sagalassos and Apamea, when road paving was replaced. In each case, straight edges were built at the side of the road paving, a couple of metres from the portico, creating a space into which the sidewalk was set, at the same moment. The topos system of assigning place-markers also seems to have moved around the Empire: as a translation of Latin locus,

430 places authorised for traders at Pompeii by a magistrate. Indeed, the renting of portico space for organised stalls, finds its earliest attestations at Antioch, not anywhere western. However, cities in both East and West were capable of producing traffic systems: right-hand drive is attested at Ephesus, as much as at Alba Fucens and Minturnae. The eastern street experience was also very ordered. Well-travelled citizens would have found it difficult to pinpoint the geographical origin of many regulatory practices or street habits. After all, vehicles as culturally-specific as sedan chairs held by mules could be encountered in both 4th c. Gaul and 5th c. Syria. Yes, common traits were re-interpreted according to local practice and local tradition. But, if a governor took up a post in a distant province, he would not be entirely unable to organise sewer maintenance, regulate market stalls, or replan a one-way system. I suspect that manuals like that of Julian of Ascalon were read and used far beyond Palestine. We must remember that much evidence for everyday life is serendipitous, with big gaps and unparalleled insights from well-preserved sites and key texts. We should not think that there was necessarily a great deal of variation between core regions of the empire, in what were considered to be the essential constituents of urban regulation. The limits of the koine can be identified in terms of cultural choice and a range of other factors. The meaning of monuments might confine their distribution: thus, tetrapyla and honorific columns, which were now closely associated with emperors, were concentrated in a few cities: provincial capitals and especially imperial capitals. The virtuoso skills of individual workshops may have played some role in limiting the diffusion of other structures, as with the tetrakionion. This structure was built in one short period (the Tetrarchy) within one region (central Levant). A poor late attempt, at ʻAnjar, to replicate this local monument, 350 years after it was in vogue, seems to confirm the specialised expertise of its earlier builders. The rest of the city contains much architecture that is laudable. Despite this, the Umayyad builders could not easily replicate a masterpiece of Tetrarchic date. Other concentrations of building might be the result of the action of a single governor. This could explain the close resemblance of the basilica vestiaria at Cuicul to that at Thamugadi, built in the same province, under the same governor. Another factor limiting the koine was local needs: the priority given to defence undoubtedly resulted in frontier cities choosing walls over street ornaments. The inertia of local cultural traditions also played some role, as seen in the concentration of repairs in Aegean cities on agora porticoes and entrances, or the popularity of colonnaded streets in the Levant and Asia Minor. Similarly, the Near East saw little

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investment in nymphaea: not because cities here did not appreciate them. They already had a good set, which they tended to repair rather than replace. But these local preferences were rarely strong enough to exclude monumental forms entirely, from regions in which they were unpopular. Thus, in the West, we find monumental fountains at Bordeaux and at Tarraco; we find late work on statue monuments at Gloucester and Trier; we find street colonnades at Cirencester and Autun; cellular shops huddle round some western fora. In the East, civil basilicas are still repaired, if rarely constructed. Western macella are even attested at Antioch and Alexandria. Minor variations in the popularity of buildings are known today, in modern European cities, but should not be over-interpreted. The limited adoption or neglect of one type of building does not mean that it remains foreign to a civic community. Almost everyone in Radcliffe, Lancashire, knows what a piazza is, even if Radcliffe Piazza is a concrete-paved square, without any of the charms of its Italian counterparts. Similarly, English visitors to Rome are enthralled by its fountains, but not entirely taken by surprise. They might try to jump in and bathe, but this can be explained by holiday spirit rather than by deep cultural differences. For Late Antiquity, recorded regional culture shocks were small: Gallus at Antioch was not used to the street lights; Julian was amazed at the freedom of donkeys there; Ammianus at Rome was struck by the size of senatorial households seen in the street, and by the popularity of bronze honorific statues, which we know (thanks to LSA) were far less common in his home region. Of course, Chrysostom was troubled by the absence of an agora at Isaurian Kokousus, but that is why he had been sent there: to experience exile in the periphery, to feel far from home. The Roman world was not merely an empire of cities, but also a commonwealth of urban culture. The Nature of Constantinople The distinctiveness of Constantinople is obvious for the Middle Byzantine period. No other city within the remnant medieval empire can really be compared to it. In 1204, it still had plazas containing ancient bronze statues, for the Crusaders to melt down, and it still had honorific columns, tall enough to use to throw an emperor to his death. For the late antique period, however, the uniqueness of the city was more circumscribed, being limited to its geographical situation. This made the city a great transport hub, although locally it gave it a water supply problem. Architects had to construct terraces, massive water storage facilities, impregnable walls, and large numbers of warehouses, to compensate for the

Conclusion: Themes and Controversies

setting of the city and its relief topography. These urban elements were particular to Constantinople, at least in terms of scale. But the character of public space within the city was otherwise not constrained by the site, excepting perhaps its major axis, set along the ridge top. This route, used by the Mese, may have been inherited, from an older extramural road taking the easiest path west out of the old city, set initially east of the Milion, and, by the 3rd c., east of the Forum of Constantine. Otherwise, the legacy of Greek Byzantium, in terms of buildings, was as follows: the old city bequeathed to Constantinople its two harbours and an agora, both set on the Golden Horn, along with a tetragonal agora, and an acropolis full of temples, facing the Bosphorus. This legacy did not constrain the city of Constantine, except perhaps in giving narrow streets to the heart of the old polis, around Hagia Sophia, where more generous widths would have suited large monuments better.21 Rather, most new developments were determined by outside influences, either planned into the foundation of the site by Constantine or absorbed gradually, as the city took shape under exceptional imperial patronage. By looking at the architecture of public space, and at some behavioural traits, one can make a judgement on the character of the city, as to what extent it reflected common elements of the late antique urban koine or those specific to different regions of the late antique world. A strong influence on Constantinople undoubtedly came from the city of Rome. It made itself felt in the imperial fora, similar to those in the western capital. On the Golden Horn, one forum had a civil basilica, another had a Senate in the form of the Pantheon and a Sun colossus, whilst honorific columns and imperial equestrian statues were popular throughout the city, all features of old Rome. Nonetheless, Constantinople did not copy the traditional form of Roman triumphal arches, still closely imitated in Italy and Africa, but drew instead on Aegean experiments for its portals. The scale of investment in the water supply and sewers is also comparable to Rome. Then there are features of the Bosphoran city which are seen in other 4th c. imperial capitals, outside of Rome: the development of massive individual porticoes as façades for public buildings, the widespread use of brick-faced concrete and marble revetment, the development of imperial palaces with tetrapyla entrances, churches with entrance porticoes, alongside massive imperial baths, major fortifications, and other features not considered in this study. Did eastern imperial residences also contribute columnar and recessed façades to Constantinople? This is possible but we first 21  Legacy of Greek city of Byzantium to Constantinople: Mango (1990) 12–21.

431 see these features in and around Rome. The pattern of elite residence, with large houses set within the city, also has good parallels with Rome, rather than say Antioch, where known examples are mainly suburban. The rest of the West, outside of its imperial capitals, does not seem to have made much impact on Constantinople: its less durable surface materials were not adopted, nor were its nymphaea obviously imitated. As far as we know, new parts of the city rejected narrow Greek streets of 3 m, in favour of those over 5 m, seen widely across the West. But this choice is unremarkable: new urban projects in the East were also adopting such sizes, as at Pella or Jerusalem. These widths cannot be seen as especially western. Perhaps the sole western trait was the adoption of formal macella, of whatever form. This was something that was still more popular as a building in the West than in the East, even if there was a tradition of regulated commercial halls in both regions. The architectural impact of the Balkans on Constantinople is less obvious, although it is visible. It seems to be present in the use of axial colonnaded streets in the design of the new areas of the city, echoing Diocletian’s Palace, Gorsium, or forts along the frontier. The large shop sizes seen on the Mese also have parallels in the northern Balkans. One might also relate the brickfaced architecture of the capital to the Balkans, seen in places like Serdica, although it is also a feature of other late imperial seats. Furthermore, the paving of the city was not in herringbone nor in diagonal, as in the Levant, but in slab rows, as known in the Balkans or in Asia Minor. It was not dolomite, basalt, nor trachyte, as seen variously in Alexandria, Rome, and Ravenna. Rather, it was laid in marble, that had not generally been reused. Such paving recalls the new-cut paving of Philippopolis in Thrace, not the spolia roads of Argos, which are of reused blocks, as they are in Asia Minor. At sites such as Abritus and Philippopolis, one is struck by the high quality of some 4th c. work, as if the Lower Danube and Thrace had its own fine technological heritage which might have been passed to the capital, rather than just radiated from it. This would have been visible in street surfaces and sidewalks and less glamorous technological aspects of buildings, and so has perhaps not yet been made visible by archaeology. But one should not forget the great amount of fortification and urban rebuilding that took place in the Northern Balkans, at least from the time of Diocletian onwards, and which surely had an impact on the largest city of that district. The influence of the Aegean region on Constantinople can be seen in the unusual triumphal arches of the city. However, we cannot confirm if other distinctive traits of Asia Minor, such as fountains with parapets made out of reused reliefs or portico mosaics composed of

432 non-matching carpets, were adopted in the city. Rather, the city seems to have been decorated by large-scale carpets of single-panels. This seems to be a reasonable deduction from what we can see of the Great Palace peristyle porticoes and from what we can imagine of the imperial scenes in the Forum of Leo or in the Zeuxippos Baths, which celebrated the rise of Justin I. Such largescale figural designs were features of the Levant, not of Asia Minor with its portico mosaics of multiple geometric carpets. Nevertheless, we can elsewhere see some connections between the capital and Asia Minor, such as the adoption of vaulted church architecture or atria, a style commonest in this region. Arcading may be derived from Asia Minor, perhaps from the Severan porticoes of Ephesus. So too, perhaps, were the canopy tychaia outside the Basilica courtyard. The display of sculpture in nymphaea (as on the Forum of Constantine) seems to be a habit shared with Asia Minor. We can be on more certain ground with the statue habit of the capital. By ornamenting its streets as well as its squares with statues, the city looks to take a lead here from Asia Minor. The judgement of Paris group in front of the Senate reminds one of a Hellenistic statue setting, in its composition and intent, perhaps similar to the dramatic sculptural assemblages patronised by the rulers of Pergamon. Nonetheless, the predominance of imperial honorands in the capital, noted by LSA, may reflect this Balkan preference rather than a habit of the Aegean. The Levant seems to make a strong contribution, perhaps the strongest of any region, providing Constantinople with architectural elements absent from both Asia Minor and the Balkans. From it was probably derived the form of Constantine’s round plaza, and perhaps the free-standing tetrapyla of the city. Street lighting was another eastern trait witnessed in the capital, from the mid-5th c., as was surface water drainage from paving, seen highly developed on the forum of the city’s founder. Surface drains are also visible at Justiniana Prima, although they are hard to find elsewhere in the Balkans consequently: this trait might be inspired directly from Constantinople. The presence of refined maintenance features, present in the Mese’s sewers, seems again best to reflect the complexity of drains seen at Caesarea Palestinae and Jerusalem, rather than anywhere in the Balkans. Further, the heights of major street porticoes known for the capital look decidedly Near-Eastern in their proportions, when built away from the constraints of the old city. The Syrian pediments seen in the porch of Theodosian Hagia Sophia and the adjacent Senate of the Augusteion reveal Levantine influence, although this was not entirely new: they had already been seen in the Palace of Diocletian at Split, and in an arch at Perge, from earlier times. Egypt can

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at least be said to have provided obelisks, to both Rome and Constantinople, in the latter case as a street ornament, within the late antique period. But we do not know enough to identify other traits from Egypt in the architecture of public space. Amidst all these potential influences, we equally find urban elements that seem from their distribution to have been invented in Constantinople and diffused outward from there. We cannot always trace these influences in the capital today, due to overbuilding, but we can make deductions from odd distributions of some building styles in the province: of distinctive new traits lightly but widely spread, without any obvious regional origin. It is probable that the sigma shopping plaza was first developed in Constantinople, and later established in slightly different forms in different regions of the empire. Two-storey porticoes might well have been a Constantinopolitan preference, known from the early 5th c. No two-storey street portico was built any earlier in the period, although they are alluded to for the Forum of Constantine. Outside of the capital, the first example we have, within Late Antiquity, comes from Aphrodisias, although two-storey porticoes were constructed in Athens and Ephesus during the 6th c. This distribution again suggests an innovation of the capital: perhaps doublestorey porticoes were encouraged by commercial pressure on high-value shopping space and the need to create sheltered imperial access-routes between major buildings. Did porticoes composed of piers alternating with columns develop in the capital? We do not know, although this is possible, given their wide occurrence in the later 5th to 6th c., at Abu Mina, Jerusalem, Laodicea, Stobi, Justiniana Prima (round plaza), and later ʻAnjar. It is possible to envisage new designs beginning in imperial capitals, when one looks back at an earlier distribution of late building façades composed entirely of piers in Rome (Maxentius Basilica, Ostia), and at street porticoes of piers from Trier (to Constantinople, then Justiniana Prima). The reuse of secularised mythological statuary in public space could also be claimed as a fashion started on the Bosphorus. Constantine’s collection of statuary from Greek sanctuaries was a large-scale endeavour. It may have inspired trends elsewhere. The appearance of the habit in Italy and Africa does not antedate the foundation of Constantinople. Furthermore, at Rome, we find a statue handler from Aphrodisias involved in the redisplay of such monuments, suggesting that it really could have been an eastern trend that spread west. The display of statue bases on portico steps, in rows, stuck onto the front of columns, looks likely to be another 4th c. innovation from the Bosphorus, spread across Greece and Asia Minor, but also as far as Rome. It probably reflects the style of statue display on the Mese

Conclusion: Themes and Controversies

in the capital, where the artworks taken by Constantine were displayed. The quality of architectural elements of streets and squares in Constantinople, where revealed by archaeology, suggests the emergence here not just of new urban elements but sometimes of a distinctive monumental style, which could not be found in the provinces. Architectural elements are generally impressive, at least for securely dated buildings of the 4th to early 5th c. Columns and capitals, where recovered, seem to be newcut or re-cut, rather than clumsily reused. This applies to pieces from central public spaces as well as lesser settings. Thus, we see finely cut architectural elements, not only on the Forum of Theodosius or at the Golden Gate or Chalke, but also from a portico on a side street at the Chalkoprateia. On this street, the capitals are exceptionally well-carved, of a style seen in the porch of Theodosian Hagia Sophia. Reuse is attested, however, from both texts and archaeology, for some honorific columns. The Goth’s column is an aesthetic disaster in its present form, composed of non-matching architectural elements. But this is hardly representative: it is uncertain when the Goth’s column assumed its present appearance: a late 6th or mid-Byzantine rebuild is possible, based on parallels from Ephesus. The bronze horse used in Justinian’s column was also obviously reused, somewhat crudely. One can also get the impression that architectural features of public space were constructed in slightly rougher materials in the 6th c. than in the 4th to early 5th c. The greater use of mixed masonry, rather than quarry-cut stone, was a feature of the rebuilding of the Forum of Theodosius, in the porticoes of the Lower Mese, and in the (masonry) Column of Justinian himself. Modern commentators tend to prefer ashlar. However, such reactions are probably mistaken. Mixed masonry was versatile. The 6th c. was still a period of innovation in architectural design, and of the use of fine new-cut Proconnesian marble. We get a reflection of Constantinopolitan architectural competence and of luxurious decoration in buildings from Ephesus of the early to mid-6th c. date: the Curetes Stoa, the Tetrastylon, or the Church of St. John. This discrete cluster of innovative late structures seems likely to reflect the styles and abilities of the capital. The use of marble road paving in Constantinople has already been mentioned: one also suspects that wall revetment was thicker and other decorative traits were more generously applied in the capital than elsewhere, from what we can see. Conversely, we can also identify elements from the wider cultural koine of the late antique city, which did not catch on in the capital. As has been noted, the tetrakionia of the Near East do not seem to have reached the capital. Tetrastyla were found in Egypt, at two sites in

433 Asia Minor and two in the West, but it seems not to have reached the Bosphoran capital. The columns of Justin II’s family in the Harbour of Sophia might have been organised in this manner, although we cannot confirm it. The large-scale nymphaea found in Africa and Italy could have been present, but we do not get the impression that they were used within the city, at junctions and so on, to produce the same effects as they did at Ostia. Rather, we have fountains set within plazas. Likewise, the enclosed nymphaea of Ephesus and Side, or the cistern-fountains of Gortyn and Laodicea do not yet have any parallels in Constantinople. We do not see the ʻwall archesʼ of later 5th to 6th c. Abu Mina, Resafa, and Caesarea Palestinae making much impact in the capital, unless they were too flimsy to survive. Neither was there any attempt to pave vast areas of forum or roadway with mosaic, as at Ostia and Caesarea Palestinae, as far as we know. We might expect that more modest materials were used to pave streets outside the core areas in which major buildings have been discovered, but we must await further excavation. There are also some types of surface that seem to defy a search for origins. For example, portico paving using stone slabs is found infrequently around the empire, being most visible in the Balkans and parts of Asia Minor. In Constantinople, such slabs were used on the Justinianic portico floor of the Lower Mese, and as marble paving, on the portico of the Forum of Theodosius, in the heart of the city. Was this a simple functional choice or did it represent a preferred form of portico surface? Constantinople reflected the many traditions of the late antique urban koine in which it was set. Its civic architecture can be described as that of a great city of Syria, set on the Bosphorus, drawing heavily on imperial Rome, with some traits from the Aegean, executed to Levantine standards, using North Balkan materials. It was more like Antioch than anywhere else. The quality of its buildings would have surprised, indeed shocked, anyone coming to the city down the Danube, and impressed most people from the East Mediterranean. The cityʼs development undoubtedly provoked jealously from near rivals, seen most clearly in the writings of Libanius. Alas, we cannot yet properly gauge the contribution of Bithynia, with its great cities of Nicaea and Nicomedia, although we know nothing about them that entirely upsets the picture given above. Overall, the city would have had rather the same effect, as did Rome, in unsettling visitors, for the same reasons. As such, Constantinople does not deserve any of the disdain of critics of its founder, ancient or modern. It was a very fine city, where ancient architecture was developed in a daring manner, merging the best of Rome, with its fora, circuses, and bath buildings, with the best of the Hellenistic East, with its avenues and street art. This was achieved on

434 the Black Sea, a region that had previously been on the edge of the classical world, a space where new ideas and urban forms could grow, largely unconstrained by the past. One might object that I have unfairly stressed the architecture of public space at Constantinople, over and above domestic and church architecture, which arguably contributed as much or more to late antique urban style. But I feel that the nature of monumental streets, showy street ornaments, agorai, and even regulated markets was especially important to the city’s role as a secular political capital, and thus did have a stronger role to play here than elsewhere in defining the city’s distinctive character and providing a glorious marbleencrusted setting for its rituals. Of course, one should not simply take Constantinople as being only the sum of its architectural components. It was also a city of people, a place of processions, static public ceremonies, and the hub-bub of everyday life. I have stressed that there were a number of processions distinctive to imperial capitals, such as consular inaugurations and imperial weddings. I have also noted that the processional life of Constantinople was particularly well-developed, just as there were also processions found here, like the adventus, household parades, or funeral processions, which were part of a common processional culture visible across the whole late antique world. The absence of clear salutatio rituals in Constantinople does not have to be a stumbling block. We have aristocratic street processions and plenty of evidence for imperial receptions. It can be taken as a lacuna in our evidence, which might have been filled, if a 4th c. letter writer like Libanius had remained longer in the great city. If we look more carefully, we can see types of procession present in the capital that are widely attested in the East but not in the West. These rituals are notably not seen at Rome, where the writings of Ammianus, Symmachus, Jerome, and others might have picked them out. The punishment processions we hear of, especially spontaneous acts like ‘dragging to death’, seem to have their most frequent parallels in the East, at Antioch, and at Alexandria. In the West, the same customs seem rarer and less elaborate, even if they might have their origin in attempts to cast damned enemies of Rome into the Tiber. Similarly, the Christian processions of Constantinople were not obviously modelled on anything happening in Rome. They were probably inspired by those established at Jerusalem, at Antioch, or at Alexandria. Thus, it seems likely, whether by design or by accident, that the public theatre of the street seen in Constantinople was firmly that of a major city of the Greek East, beyond the archaic Roman forms preserved by some ceremonies at court. The legacy of empire was

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not enough to produce a western urban community here, as the city truly became the capital of the East. If we move beyond this, to consider the regulation of public behaviour in Constantinople, we can say that the legacy of Roman law was strongly felt. There were regulations on the use of forms of transport within the city, familiar in spirit to those issued in Rome centuries earlier. We can also note Julian’s surprise at Antioch’s more liberal and less pedestrianised urban system, a reaction which came after he had experienced the traffic of Constantinople and that of major cities of the West, such as Milan. As far as the sources allow, it seems that there was no difference in the types of vehicles encountered in the capital: litters, chariots, mules, and horses would all have been encountered in the centre of Constantinople. Camels were likely also present on occasion, as revealed by archaeological bone reports for Justiniana Prima, and the reliefs of the Arch of Theodosius. There may have been more carpenta, and the traffic around the palace was undoubtedly controlled to facilitate ritual entries. From the writings of Libanius and Chrysostom, one gets the impression that nobody arriving in the eastern capital from a major city would have had much difficulty fitting into its generic manners. Rather, their difficulty was managing the politics of the court. The travails faced by the ‘soldier’ Ammianus at Rome, in finding his place amongst demilitarised senatorial aristocrats, would not have been matched by experiences on the Bosphorus. Here could be found aristocrats of imperial service, both military or civilian, a class perhaps more easily cultivated than the great families of old Rome. Again, we can see Constantinople as representative of the whole late antique world, in a way that Rome was not. Significance: Public Space and Late Antique Society What can the nature of public space can tell us about late antique society, based on the evidence presented? It is a major contention of this book that the streets and agorai of a city were still the environment in which all late antique lives intersected. Of course, spectacle buildings also played a great role, as did palaces and churches, but there was something universal about the life of streets and particularly squares in the open-air environment of the Mediterranean that makes them especially important in defining the nature of society: they were where minds met, where collective values and the status quo could be defined. My remarks here are crafted in the light of this claim, which must remain tentative until I have explored other urban spaces in other works. The reader should be aware that, despite the large amount of

Conclusion: Themes and Controversies

data collected in the gazetteer, some conclusions in this section can depend upon small quantities of evidence. I tolerate this when the surviving material is highly significant but rare on account of its fragility. This is often true of epigraphic signs or occupation traces. These seem to be exceptionally preserved in Asia Minor, due to the chronology of later occupation and the type of stone used there, which was highly suitable for carving. Equally, textual evidence on everyday life can be significant in small quantities. Texts tend to shed beams of intense light on specific subjects amidst wider gloom: a workshop type may have a single description, as part of a metaphor, in the entire corpus of late antique literature. This serendipity is particularly important to grasp in relation to abstract concepts of public space. Ideas which really interest us, such as civic participation, religious tolerance, or commercial regulation, may not leave much trace, whereas those which do, such as tax collection, may bury us in detail. In consequence, the claims I make here are sometimes of a different quality to those presented earlier within the main text. That said, some types of evidence used here, such as for building repair or destruction, although subject to regional variation, are more reliable in quantitative terms: this includes temple destruction or the conversion of city council chambers into churches. Political Life I have nothing extraordinary to say about the nature of civil institutions in the late antique city, as most of the broad lines of change have been drawn by others. My own contribution will be given in a different place.22 The discussion of continuity, above, has argued against seeing rupture or decline in the wrong place. I have been able to point to the effectiveness of curial government in cities, both large and small, in the 4th to early 5th c. Clearly, a revision is in order for the civic health of cities in southern Britain in the 4th c., no matter what wider patterns of development there might be.23 This was not a region in which urban society was about to collapse. Rather, it had one of the most active civic cultures of the West. Archaeology suggests that here cities saw more public building work than Spain, and perhaps more than Italy, based on my visits to cities outside of Latium. I ground comments here on archaeology, not 22  Nature of civil institutions in the late antique city: the articles referred to in the foreword of this book, plus also those referred to in Lavan (2001c), alongside Laniado (2002) and the forthcoming volume of Antiquité Tardive. 23  Negative picture of civic public building in Britain in the 4th c.: Faulkner (2000a) 177–85 and (2000b). Faulkner’s quantitative arguments on public building are not examined by Rogers (2011) 115.

435 inscriptions, which survive in Italy but not in Britain, where they were perhaps written on wood. Public building in Africa does not look quite so busy from archaeological evidence as it does from inscriptions. Rather it is more bavarde. Sardinia comes into focus as a region that seems to follow Africa in its treatment of public space, rather than Italy, based on excavated areas of public space. In the East, Greece, Asia Minor, and the Levant all show signs of a solid civic culture, sometimes from inscriptions, more often from archaeology, down to the repairs of city council chambers themselves. Significantly, the overall spread of building works in the later 5th to 6th c. confirms the competence of the notables as a civic body in many cities of the East, some of which were not provincial capitals. Here, streets were repaired, colonnades built, and sewers or water supplies looked after, until the early 7th c. If one is looking for aspects of political life in public space that are new and so not considered under ʻcontinuityʼ, I would point to the growth of a pervasive imperial culture, which encroached on civic life, dominating the statue honours of public squares outside the doors of the city council chambers. In many regions, statue landscapes centuries old were swept away, especially during or just prior to the Tetrarchy. These had been replaced by statue groups given over to emperors, which were kept up to date to reflect the current imperial college. They were occasionally, but not universally, accompanied by a few governors. As I will discuss in another work, the greater incidence of provincial governors, their law courts, and their habit of chairing city council meetings, all encroached on the traditional sphere of curial life. As part of this change, cities were more focused outwards than they had been in the first three centuries A.D.—with imperial street monuments and fine monumental porticoes lining the roads coming from the main gates. As others have noted, local bigwigs increasingly achieved senatorial rank, and with it immunity from curial service, as old local honours lost their value. To my reading, this process of ʻimperialisationʼ of political life, spotted by Bauer in the streets of Constantinople, was just as significant to civic culture as Christianisation, if not as enduring.24 As for the ʻnotablesʼ, I think we must drastically revise our impressions of this group. They appear not as distant aristocratic lords, appointing underlings to carry out their duties, but instead persons who were highly engaged in the cities of the East, addressing their citizens via epigrams on gameboards and in other settings. Not all smaller cities seem to have had resident notables, of any description, but in large 24  Imperialisation of Constantinople’s public space with imperial statue presence: Bauer (1996) 364 and 387.

436 and medium-sized cities they were common. The existence of fraternities supporting notables cannot be ruled out, whether the Pytheanitai at Aphrodisias, the Mariani at Xanthos, or the Michaelitai at Sagalassos. We can only speculate on how these patronal groups manifested their support in public space. They do appear to have had benches on a plaza outside the theatre at Aphrodisias, but do not seem to have had reserved seats inside. Within the cavea, here and elsewhere, trade associations predominated in seat reservations, alongside religious groups treated legally rather like trade associations, along with spaces reserved for individuals, faction members, or distinguished visitors from other cities. Only in Aphrodisiasʼ odeon is there a suggestion, from abbreviations on the edges of seats that patronal groups may have met to deliberate business, and these brief texts are very much open to interpretation.25 The strength of civic authority is sometimes revealed by the details of building work. It is suggested in the maintenance of street property boundaries or in the continued use of 5 m street widths when planning new suburbs. It can even be seen in some parts of the West, where a planned reduction of the width of the paved part of existing streets was carried out in an organised fashion. However, evidence for regulation is most obvious in the East. Here, were have 4th c. texts from Constantinople and Antioch, but much of the epigraphic and archaeological evidence is very late, as is some textual evidence. It is clear that regulation played a big part in the character of the revived eastern city of the 5th-6th c. The evidence is especially clear in Asia Minor. It extends from the management of stalls (Laodicea, Sagalassos), to the lighting of streets (Ephesus, Apamea), or the avoidance of nuisance (Julian of Ascalon). Public processions seem to have been regulated in space by some urban authority, as sets of acclamations suggest (at late 6th–early 7th c. Ephesus, and earlier at Perge). We see clear 5th–7th c. evidence of traffic management, at Ephesus, with animals descending roads on the right, and at Sardis, with three lanes of traffic for vehicles. Regulated parking for animals is suggested by tethering holes at Ephesus, along the Arcadiane, but not the Embolos, a regime which must date sometime after the 25  This is my impression, from the topos inscriptions in entertainment buildings at Aphrodisias, Miletus, Tyre, and Alexandria. At Side, the place reservations are (exceptionally) for military or ecclesiastical dignitaries. In the West, they are for status ranks, including both civic and senatorial levels. I will leave full documentation for another occasion. However, see Roueché (1993) on Aphrodisias; Al. Cameron (1976) 248, 315 on Miletus; IvSide 2.142.2 on Side; IGLS 13.9156–9168 on Bostra; Kahwagi-Janho (2012) 43–49 on Tyre; Borkowski (1981) with Bagnall and Cameron (1983) on Alexandria. For the odeon seats at Aphrodisias, with texts of 3 or 4 upper case letters cut into the lips of seat, see Roueché (1993) no. 47.1.

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general rebuilding of 550–610. We see similar arrangements earlier in Italian cities, including Pompeii, and hear of them at Rome in the 4th c. Thus, it is likely that tethering holes at Ephesus represent a continuous tradition, which the ‘notables’ still maintained, as they did with traditions of building maintenance. Dedications of civic honours also seem to be structured within urban space, as seen in sequences of inscribed and painted acclamations in Asia Minor. Care was even taken to curate the statue heritage of cities, even if some of it was disposed of. The design of works on sewer and water systems, even in the 6th c. to 7th c., at places as diverse as Naples, Carthage, Justiniana Prima, Gortyn, Sagalassos, and Beirut, again suggests planning. So does the positioning of water pipes within sidewalks: they were confined to these areas even when they were not added opportunistically, behind a new kerb. Everywhere, structure and systematic thought seems to be at work, rather than individual initiative. None of this suggests that the ʻnotablesʼ did a bad job in comparison to the city councillors of earlier centuries. If we look beyond the specific evidence of public space, there is plenty of material which might confirm the same impression. The orations of Choricius on life in Gaza give us a flavour of an eastern city, during the reign of Justinian, which still functioned well on a civic level. Here, the involvement of bishops worked to reinforce civic government, wherever it was possible to do this. One might expect this arrangement to be a decisive moment in the development of the classical city, as an office that was alien to the secular life of the polis and took on its leadership, from ca. 460 onwards. One might also imagine that the involvement of the factions as administrators of entertainment, with their own offices and bath / club houses, caused a breakdown of public order. Yet, there is little evidence that the involvement of the bishop or the rise of the factions really harmed the quality of civic services. Faction offices were a new type of public space, found in and around entertainment buildings, as at Gerasa. At Tyre, the factions built small bath buildings to use as club houses, on each side of the hippodrome.26 The polis was not overthrown but added to. As far as we can tell, civic revenues were not transferred to ecclesiastical activities: I suspect a single case at Edessa, rectified by a governor.27 Neither were public buildings simply turned over to ecclesiastical use 26  Buildings of the factions: Gerasa, faction office: Zayadine (1986) (not seen); Tyre, hippodrome baths of the Blues: Kahwagi-Janho (2007), with Kahwagi-Janho (2012) 42–44 with inscriptions from the two baths. Oxyrhynchus, faction office of Blues: Pareti (1912) 305–306. 27  For church monies as private donations and private land endowments, with occasional imperial grants, as by Constantine, see Jones (1960).

Conclusion: Themes and Controversies

wholesale, as in some inverted precursor of Henry VIIIʼs dissolution of the English monasteries. Examples exist but are rare: at Aizanoi, a bath building was occupied by a church, but another thermal complex nearby was still repaired; at Cherchel, the new church on the forum left the civil basilica well-alone, as indeed did another at Philippi.28 Neither do inscriptions related to factions often go beyond entertainment buildings, where they had an official role: there was no division of the city into gang-like zones of influence. Rather, we see no substantial changes in building priorities that could be linked to the new administrative arrangements. From the perspective of classical urban life, the rise of bishops and factions represented just another episode in a long story of evolving urban administration, not some great final cataclysm. Social Life Social Classes Social classes can be studied based on many forms of urban evidence, extending beyond the material considered in this book, notably that for domestic architecture. As noted earlier, it would be a mistake to see the street porches of grand houses, sometimes inscribed with an owner’s name, as directly reflecting social change: the chronology does not seem to work. Within public space, it is easier to consider more modest groups. The social status of artisans in Late Antiquity has long been a question for late antique historians. Clearly, the archaeology of streets and squares does have something to contribute. The western evidence suggests that little if anything changed at any time during the 4th c. We would like to know what happened next. Unfortunately, the scale of urban transformation here in the 5th c. is so great as to make it difficult to compare what came before and after: Early Medieval cities are just too different to late antique cities in terms of public space. The story of artisans cannot be picked out from wider trends with much clarity. Only at Egnatia do we have a strong sense that organised retail continued on Roman lines, when architectural structures did not. In the East, things are different, and the prominence of artisans in sermons or in hagiography seems to find its echo in the shops of Ephesus, Scythopolis, and especially Abu Mina, where they include some units of great size. Christian preachers rejected earlier social discrimination against this class, and even expressly opposed it. Can we see this from archaeology? Not easily, but there is no evidence to suggest that their lot deteriorated either. A major issue is the visibility of any social classes of free people lower than artisans. We can see farms / 28  Aizanoi, bath buildings: Niewöhner (2007) 143–45, with thanks to the author; L. Lavan site observation May 2003.

437 farm-like building groups within British cities, as at Silchester or Canterbury, but too few Mediterranean suburbs have been explored to detect comparable buildings.29 Did rural workers all live outside of cities, leaving only artisans and their live-in workers as the most modest class? Or did some eastern farmers commute out to the fields? Evidence from anecdotes suggests that the latter is possible, but it is unlikely for larger cities, where accommodation was scarce, where visitors might sleep in the street porticoes. Within public space, traces of non-artisanal groups, of urban wage earners or those who went out to work on the fields, are perhaps to be found in the pavement markings found in fora and agorai, clustered on steps or around fountains. It is a mistake to see the casual epigraphy of graffiti or gameboards in late antique towns as the work of the destitute. They likely represent the artworks and games of those who felt they had a place in the city and who occupied particular spots, like the customers of thermopolia, or members of urban associations. We can hazard this guess from the acclamations to circus factions and other groups found in these scribblings. The absence of public rituals focused on classes of workers, independent of associations, reminds us that any form of workingclass consciousness was absent from the late antique city: popular collective bonds were expressed in terms of attachments to patrons, public entertainments, and religious groups. ‘The workers’ as a group belong to the social dynamics of other periods. The homeless ‘poor’ become visible through ecclesiastical writings, both inside and outside of churches. Poor people do not own much, so leave little trace in archaeology. Thankfully, the Christian preachers who staffed church buildings give us textual evidence of the poor in the agora and in the street porticoes, where beggars might cluster. The prevalence of new charitable institutions likely did make life easier than earlier for those without enough money to live and especially for the sick. But, to be frank, life near the bottom of urban society, when compared with other periods of European urban history, seems not unpleasant prior to the rise of public Christianity. The contrast between street conditions in late antique Apamea or Scythopolis versus Viking Jorvik or Shakespeareʼs London could not be more marked. In Late Antiquity, open shopping avenues were agreeable places to socialise, even if one had no money. The poorest could sit warming themselves outside a glass blowerʼs shop, or sleep against a counter set on the street, to benefit from its residual heat, just as they slept outside bath buildings. In this space, there was a living 29  Farms / farm-like building groups within British cities: Wacher (1995) 287 (Silchester) and 316–318 with fig.142 (Cirencester), drawing on Boon (1974) 243–66 for the former site.

438 to be made for the destitute, from street entertainment, music, or charming greetings, whilst Mediterranean climates made quite a few cities inhabitable outdoors, almost year-round. Variations in food supply and epidemic disease were undoubtedly the greatest threats for the homeless, but these also affected those in work. Slaves are not easy to study in late antique public space. Lack of clarity over who was a slave is frustrating: ambiguous terms are often used in textual sources. Eunuchs escorting women must be slaves, whilst those, of either sex, running errands for their owners, to the market or delivering letters, also look to be of very low status. But it is far from clear that the troops of household staff following patrons in the street were all slaves. As we have seen, Chrysostom implies, at one point, that some servants paraded in this manner were free. However, the objective of getting an entire household out in procession is clearly indicated by Ammianus. Hierarchies were visible amongst slaves in public space, as much as between free men: the attractive muscular male slaves who guarded a master in church, the weavers who went before the kitchen staff in a household procession at Rome. The steward, leading the cortege with a wand, might also have been a slave. We know that slaves escorted a western bishop (Masona, if pueri is translated as slaves) in the later 6th c. just as they would a Constantinopolitan notable. A bishop in Paris in 576 was expected to release prisoners at his funeral procession, just as a church council in the same city had recognised the same custom for slaves. On the behaviour of freedmen in public space I am lacking any distinct information, beyond the act of parading their new liberty at funerals in Justinianic Constantinople. It is also not clear where slaves were bought and sold. Pope Gregory’s sight of Anglian slaves at Rome did not necessarily occur in a forum, although many reconstructions have shown it thus. No ancient text gives this precision. Gender and Age Women of means were seen moving through the street, on the way to the baths, or to the church, in all their finery, with their suite, in the 6th c. as in the 4th c. They went to some different places to men, but the street ritual was the same for both sexes, in death as well as life, from the accounts of funeral processions we have. In the agora or in the church, bearers of fine ornaments or natural beauty could expect to be admired. In the street, the corporal ‘modesty’ of women might be accompanied by ostentatious displays of wealth: as in the silver coated basternae, in which wealthy young females traversed their cities, sat behind a curtain but carried by musclebound eunuchs or well-groomed mules. Well-to-do young women may have spent part of their time in upper

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rooms weaving and reading, but they did sometimes get down into the agora, and could socialise with their peers at church, at the baths, or in dinners. Julian witnessed ʻpretty women aplentyʼ amongst men and adolescents in festival corteges of Antioch, whilst Christian processions saw both sexes enjoying themselves in the street. The festivals of Gaza, under Justinian, were settings where unmarried girls might venture unaccompanied, a relaxation of expectations which provoked comment.30 According to preachers, respectable women ought not to circulate unaccompanied, but churchmen still expected to encounter women in the street, either alone or in groups. These instances show us that public space was not entirely male-gendered, even if there were a number of spaces where men dominated or females were excluded. Females of different ages worked in shops, from the thermopolia in 4th c. Rome to the fast-food establishment of 6th c. Edessa, or taverns in Constantinople and elsewhere in the East. So, women from artisanal families had little choice but to be visible in the city: their shops were small and not everyone had a slave to buy provisions. Similarly, female beggars could be seen in the streets. They too played a role in public life out of necessity. Moving beyond the civic spaces covered by this book, we find a place reservation for a Jewish woman, marked by her name and a candelabra, amongst 5th to 7th c. topos inscriptions from the theatre of Tyre. In the absence of a trade label we must assume that she was attending as a spectator.31 It says a lot about late antique society that all ages, genders, and classes watched the adventus or attended church. Women might be segregated from men within church, as in spectacle buildings, and in some baths, but this was not true in streets and squares. Despite this inclusion, we almost never see women taking the lead in public events. Admittedly, visible grief was expected of widows and mothers in funeral processions, as if they were a second focus after the bier. It was at least possible for a female suppliant to assert herself: we see a mother exposing her grey hair (a sight worth remarking on) whilst grabbing the bridle of a judge’s horse at Antioch. Here, as in the Yakto mosaic of Antioch, the expectation was that hair would be covered in the street, although it was not in the Piazza Armerina scene of a rich woman and servants going to the baths, from the later 4th c. This may be a western difference, in a world where Greek women, but not

30  Unmarried girl unaccompanied in festival at Gaza: Choricius Or. 2.69. 31  Jewish woman at Tyre in hippodrome: Rey-Coquais (2002) 331–34, nos. 4–14.

Conclusion: Themes and Controversies

Latins, were covered, as late sculpture fields suggest.32 Even with such gendered distinctions, women were not completely excluded but rather held a place within hierarchies of rank and precedence in collective rituals, or different roles, from which they could have an impact. Age groups do not appear, in the evidence I have seen, to be an automatic criterion for greater honour in public, even if being more elderly might be a criterion for ecclesiastical precedence in some contexts. Those who sat down were of the correct status to sit, not the correct age. There is some evidence from city council chambers of juvenile members of curial families being allowed to attend, whose fathers served.33 Age distinctions were also seen in seating in an entertainment building at Aphrodisias, as will be discussed shortly. But in most public settings, privileges depended on what social rank one held, from the seatless infames, to the honorati, who were allowed the best and sometimes the only seats in public gatherings, sitting with judges in the law courts. Widows were well-looked after in church. They had a place to assemble as a group, with food, shelter, and a role in singing the psalms. They doubtless also performed a variety of tasks for those who were less able. Thus, their solitude might have been lessened. It is, however, not easy to trace them beyond churches. Even in the case of rich widows, who enjoyed property rights, we cannot construct much in terms of public participation, even if such widows were active players in society from their houses. We know that widows joined processions, as did young girls, sometimes organised into such categories, as they were in church, where the sexes were segregated. Both groups might watch an adventus. Children appear playing ball games in the agora at Samosata, calling on house owners for presents at the Kalends, harassing misfits at Emesa, or those of other faiths at Kastra Porphyreion, in each case out and about unsupervised. On other occasions, they stuck with their mothers in church or with their pedagogue on the way to school, 32  Female suppliant at Antioch: Joh. Chrys. Hom. ad pop. Ant. 17.2 (PG 49.173). Yakto mosaic, hair veiled: Lassus (1934) 132–34 scene 10. Such evidence provides an alternative source to the late 4th c. critiques of Jerome on female hair covering: Harlow (2007). It is of course possible that there were regional variations on how a woman was expected to present herself in the street, with Antioch favouring head coverings. The chapter by Schade on women for the LSA project does not present any examples with substantial head coverings except in a reused statue and for the bonnets of empresses. In the LSA database, the number of veiled female heads is a distinct minority. Most seem to be from Greece and Asia Minor, perhaps representing a Greek trait, even at this date, at least in conventions of portraiture. 33  Sons of decurions in council meetings in Egypt see Bowman (1971) 39 and P. Oxy. 1413 (prob. 3rd c.) and 2110 (A.D. 370).

439 perhaps with their father on the way back. We do not have much information about the different experiences of children based on gender, but all the evidence available shows that education in public was now for boys, despite examples of educated women persisting into the period.34 This is reflected in schoolbook tales, up to the 4th c., where all protagonists are young males. The Church as a Social Entity It is clear that, by the later 4th c., some forms of social life were starting to re-configure around churches, as Christianity became central to public life. The elaborate nature of some Christian ceremonies in public space must have meant that many believers spent a great deal of time together, in a manner that lessened, though did not obliterate social hierarchies. The fact that some church rituals took over the form of patronal ceremonies may have undermined the former and recast their dynamics into ecclesiastical settings. Furthermore, the feeding of the poor, at church, undoubtedly hastened the emergence of bishops as major urban patrons of those who would once have flocked around secular patrons, just to get enough bronze coins for food, as had clients in Early Imperial Rome, at morning audiences.35 Processions to church and the treatment of major donors within church undoubtedly reinforced aspects of the social hierarchy. Yet, at the same time, the liturgy provided a new space, a different language for social differentiation to occur, and different forms of power to be configured. Some of this was familiar, such as rights of sanctuary and occasions for acclamations, whilst some of it was new, such as proximity to the sanctuary or the distribution of alms. Church leaders understood the importance of offering an equal welcome to rich and poor alike, and did not reproduce seating arrangements based on class or professional group, as were found in spectacle buildings.36 Although churches took on the architectural attributes of classical public buildings, the primacy of religious activity, and, to some lesser extent, the fellowship of believers, created a different 34  Educated women: see Cribore (2007) 30 n.101 for an example of a highly educated woman known to Libanius. The period had female letter writers, suggesting a high level of education was possible for wealthy women: Bagnall and Cribiore (2006) plus Hillner (2019) for the 6th c. and see Watt (2017) 93–106 for 5 female philosophers known in the 4th to mid-5th c., likely representing the peak of a broader pyramid of female literacy. 35  Sportulae distribution by patrons, Early Empire: Juvenal 128 (first thing in the day), Martial 14.125 (at morning toga wearing), 4.26 (morning at a home); Martial 3.7, 10.70 (at the baths); Martial 4.68, 3.30, 3.60 (at dinner). References from Nauta (2002) 57–58. 36   Equal welcome for rich and poor: e.g. Constitutiones Apostolorum 2.2.5.

440 environment within their walls, that did not entirely reflect wider society. The same could be true of processions: when Gregory at Rome divided them into 7 groups (of clerics, monks, nuns, men, married women, widows, and children with the poor) he was able to cut across any organisation based on class or on official rank, even if we suspect that such groups might have re-ordered themselves internally within these categories. Social Relations: Patronage, Public Rituals, Friendship, Decorum Quite how urban society managed to cohere in the changed world of post-curial government is worth probing. One could talk of threats of occasional violence, reinforced by law and property rights. But what effective social mechanisms can be seen in public space? What of public patronage? Evergetism only seems to have survived strongly in 4th c. Africa (83 examples). In the 4th-5th c. Levant, civic evergetism seems to have been at a very low level (1 or 2), in great contrast to gifts to churches. Things were a little better in the same period for Italy (8), or Greece and Asia Minor (7).37 By the 6th c., we are struggling to find even this level of evergetism. Aphrodisias, of course, provides the exception, in the cases of the notable Hermias, who gave lands worth 3,000 solidi per year for the operation of the baths, and of Albinus, who repaired / rebuilt a portico, so that he was acclaimed as suitable to rise up to the Senate. He and other notables of the period were honoured with statues around the agorai of the city. But this represents the high end of elite engagement. A few other examples of active notables are known, in 6th c. Gaza or elsewhere.38 But even in western Asia Minor and Palestine, their deeds do not stand much comparison with the benefactions of earlier centuries, when great theatres were built through the benefactions of individuals. One wonders if a pater such as Agathias, dedicating toilets and gameboards in Smyrna, might have been active out of a desire to share 37  Evergetism, Africa, 4th c.: Lepelley (1979) 303–318. Italy: WardPerkins (1984) 20. Greece and Asia Minor: Lewin, (1995) 95–96. Palestine and Arabia: Di Segni (1995) 331, with 319 (Scythopolis, possible example) and 326 (Gerasa, certain examples). 38  Active notables: Aphrodisias: Roueché (1984) on Albinus, his acclamations (ALA 83) and statue (ALA 82) and on Hermias ALA 74; Lenaghan (2019) on late statues, also discussed in my chapter of agorai in the 6th c.; Smyrna: Theodorus 51 PLRE 3.1261 restored baths as pater: Ant. Graec. 9.615; Agathias PLRE 3.23–25: Anth. Graec. 9.662 (latrine), 9.767–69 (gameboards), gets a statue (16.316). See Roueché (1979) for further examples (e.g. work on gates at Aphrodisias and Miletus) and discussion. On the notables of Antioch in the later 5th to 6th c. (building work and festivals): see Whitby (2006) 450–51. Laniado (2002) provides a broad treatment on civic ʻnotablesʼ in this period.

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in respectable cultural values, to contribute to an urban story, and to retain family friends, rather than pave a route to power. After all, Smyrna was not even a provincial capital; neither was Gaza. They were not really the best places to ‘get noticed’. We should remember that classical cities were generous places, where a high level of amenity was provided by taxation or without donor names being inscribed everywhere. There were a high number of benefits that one could take for granted, and these surely encouraged people to identify with and appreciate their city, even without resorting to patronage. Did public rituals in streets and squares play a significant role in strengthening urban society? One can say that such rituals were largely dominated by the rich, or by those wielding institutional power. Little people had to move out of the way of their horses, whilst greetings in public recognised hierarchy clearly. The lower orders only made themselves heard collectively, in processions, acclamations, or faction riots. Yet, despite this atmosphere, almost everyone could find themselves with one day in their life to be proud of, in the street. Chrysostom’s criticisms of modest brides being shown off in procession, reveal that even ordinary folk might be able to catch the eye of the watching public, for a brief moment. We have no evidence for funeral processions of ‘ordinary’ people, beyond Symeon the Fool, but these too might have provided occasions for those outside the elite to gain some recognition for their family in public space. Street rituals sometimes also allowed a temporary inversion of the social order, in which those at the bottom became prominent. At the Kalends, servants could take over as masters, and children could rule the street for a day. During a funeral procession, slaves freed on carrying their master’s bier might find meaning and recognition for their years of ‘service’. Small performances like this, like the reserved seats for artisans in theatres, undoubtedly led to people feeling they belonged, through recognised status privileges or through events that highlighted the lives of those near the bottom. Having a low rank in the pecking order was perhaps not so bad, if the system was stable, and the street provided an opportunity to express it. Domestic slaves walking in procession with their patron down to the forum or to the church could have felt this keenly, as status radiated from the mistress or master, when they formed an escort. We do not have complaints of middleranking clients about such rituals, as we do from Early Imperial Rome. Undoubtedly, there were limits to willing obligation: the senators who walked before the bier of Valens’ astrologer felt upstaged. Even so, for those who were not of high status, visibility in the street likely meant a great deal, as it did to the officiales who followed

Conclusion: Themes and Controversies

the praetorian prefect at Constantinople, in the time of John Lydus.39 Of course, the late antique city was full of competitive displays of precedence, in rank and in wealth, which demonstrated to everyone who was gaining power or wealth and who was losing it. Nonetheless, it is worth underlining the extent to which the rituals of the street formed a sort of social glue, in which friendship and patronage, as well as competition, consolidated the civic community. Admittedly, Roman social historians have identified social competition as a key mechanism in urban life, especially when tracing the transformations of the Late Republic.40 This is true up to a point: the late antique street and public space were key places to see and to be seen: one could articulate and negotiate one’s place in society through greeting rituals or by following others in procession. We should envisage that the political culture of the city still included these features. But it also contained other ingredients, such as the friendship of equals, the socialising nature of clubs and schools, or open access to good quality civic amenities. Equally, public violence was limited. One does not get the impression that in most cities trips to the theatre ended in a riot. It is telling that the brutality of a governor’s law court left communities rather shaken, as if it were quite unexpected.41 Further, whilst Levantine Christian children might sometimes throw stones at itinerant preachers or Samaritan houses, their parents did not. They interacted peacefully in the street with a variety of people, such as those of different religious confessions who occupied shops that Symeon visited at Emesa. Public space was a setting for measured behaviour, in which differences and competition could be expressed, but only to a certain degree. It is revealing that on the Yakto mosaic, showing mid5th c. Antioch, a servant clearing the way in front of his master’s horse holds a tassel on a stick, not some heavy club, to get the job done, alerting people to give way, not forcing them. Some everyday violence is attested in the streets of this city. Libanius was pulled from his horse when he tried to break up a fight and suffered stonethrowing attacks from an artisan who was losing his 39  Clients complaints, Early Imperial Rome about salutatio: Juv. 5.19–0, Mart. 9.100, 10.82, 12–18, 12.68, 14.125; about patronal processions: Mart. 9.100. 40  Social competition as a key mechanism in urban life, Late Republic and Early Empire: Fagan (2011); Wallace-Hadrill (2007); Hopkins and Burton (1983) for Rome. On competition and houses see Wallace-Hadrill (1994) and Hales (2000). For friendship amongst other social strategies see Toner (2015) and Verboven (2011), alongside other papers in the same volume. 41  Judicial ‘violence’ as unexpected, e.g. Sulp. Sev. Dial. 3.4.1; Jer. Ep. 1; Synesius Ep. 41.

441 mind. Libanius records his involvement in only two violent incidents in his lifetime, against two accidents with traffic and horses. Elsewhere, much of this seems to be predictable rough handling: ‘student japes’ or incidents caused by someone who transgressed the informal compromises designed to maintain order, like Symeon the Fool in Emsea. Even in a major centre like Antioch, streets and squares were full of people going off to visit sick friends, some arranging dinner together, fathers meeting their sons for a trip to the baths, others playing games, eavesdropping on school masters, and telling tales. It is necessary to place this evidence against that for patronal rivalry. There was more to street life than patrons with their households or clients going off to the salutatio. We must ask if legal papyri, or chronicle accounts of struggles for imperial power in Rome itself, are representative of everyday life in provincial cities? The human mind is capable of finding ways of transcending competition and difference: alongside rivalries and jealousies, there were also city councillors looking to reach agreements, residents banding together to lobby in their own interest, individuals happy to put buckets of gravel into wheel ruts outside their homes. This was a complex civic culture in which people got along, as well as fell out. Patrons, like Libanius with his bakers, likely sought to keep the peace and sooth hurt feelings, unless ruptures became unavoidable. Without widespread cooperation, complex ceremonies such as the adventus, or risqué rituals such as those of the Kalends, would not have been possible. We should also not underestimate the degree of decorum that would have been necessary to maintain practical arrangements. Pedestrianisation and one-way streets simply could not work unless people did what they were expected to do. For every notice telling people not to celebrate a wedding in a public square, there were doubtless as many signs telling people not to ‘throw earth’ (i.e. to shit?) against a monastery wall, like that from Aphrodisias. Unfortunately, we do not have enough external plaster surfaces to study this, in the way we have for Pompeii. The very decorum that St. Simeon violated in later 6th c. Emesa, by defecating in the agora and by overturning pastry stalls outside a church, was a civic sensibility. It is certainly enjoyable to draw together records of urban nuisance in Rome from Juvenal and other sources, and to record the reality of pavement obstruction at Pompeii.42 It was possible to be killed by a falling chamber pot or see someone defecate in the street,

42  Urban nuisance in Rome and Pompeii: well-described from literary and archaeological sources by Harnett (2011) and (2017) 69–74.

442 but it is a mistake to let such records support a ‘realistic’ view of Roman street culture, valid for all of the empire. By the 6th c. A.D., particularly in the East, a great deal of effort, legal, social, and architectural, went into making public space ordered for ordinary people. Ephesus, Antioch, or Apamea, in Late Antiquity, seem a good deal more regulated than Vesuvian towns or the Suburba of Early Imperial Rome. We should especially not be misled by accounts of urban riots or criminality in very large cities. Late antique urban centres were as full of politeness and complex articulations as our own small towns and cities. Some of this could be achieved by law and inspection, some by inculcating cultural practices, via education and social censure. Other positive communal practices could be actively encouraged by the city: by selling rights, of access and use of public space, to patrons, organisations, and individuals. This could be done via cash contracts or a trade-off in duties for privileges. The holders of such rights would then defend them, in the public interest, as much as in their own interest. In this manner, was the social stability of the late antique city maintained, not so much as an imposed ideology, but often by sets of practices that were broadly in the interests of the majority of citizens, to whom they had been crafted by foresight and by experience. Economic Life It is difficult to talk about the ‘big issues’ of economics from the study of public space. Some general points have been made already. For example, I have pointed to limited evidence for specialisation in retail, at sites like Sardis and Tralleis. That said, beyond street names, there is little sign of clustering apart from in the textile industry. We can also make guesses about how rows of cellular shops were created, with or without the involvement of patrons. I am tempted to say that there was quantitatively more artisanal activity in Asia Minor and the Levant because a greater number of cellular shops were built, but this may not to be the case. More probably shops moved closer in, taking over from other buildings and interests, making artisans more prominent by default, rather than the city becoming some sort of proto-industrial productive town. We have nothing to compare the growth in shops with or to measure change: perhaps one day quantitative studies of artefacts might make this possible, but we cannot do it yet. It is somewhat easier to talk of the balance seen between the interests of the ‘city’ (meaning civic authorities) versus the interests of artisans. Cities in different regions clearly favoured different types of commercial structure. Civil basilicas, popular in much of the West, were perhaps the most desirable setting for traders, from the point of view of civic authorities. These monuments could be used for entirely

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civic purposes when required but they left artisans with no permanent base or chance to invest in structures which might ease production or sale. Market buildings, kept in repair across most of the empire until at least the 5th c., seem to represent a compromise between a civic desire to control smells (at least initially) and an artisanal tendency to associate with similar tradesmen. Cellular shops, however, were very comfortable for artisans, though still regulated. These were purpose-built structures, with a monumental access (via a portico) to main streets. They existed within a wider regulative framework. We have seen at Antioch that local taxes on shop tenants supported collective door-painting or fuel for oil lamps, paid for by artisans but administered by councils or governors. Elsewhere, it is obvious that sewer and road maintenance was similarly planned, even if billed to shop occupants. From an artisanal point of view, these arrangements were costly. The cellular porticoed shop was perhaps not their first choice in terms of functional convenience. Rather, it would likely have been the strip building found in the bourgades of the north-western provinces. Such strip buildings seem to represent the ‘ideal’ premises for artisans: they often have ample production space at the rear or within the property, and an open frontage devoted to display and sale. The small towns / vici into which these structures often crowded would have demanded few if any collective charges.43 But in such settings, the amenity offered to shoppers was far less, and no doubt shopkeepers as well as customers appreciated the comfort and solidity of a row of cellular shops with porticoes inside a regular city: easy to clean, easy to use, and with guarantees about maintenance and use which might prevent a difficult or dirty neighbour from spoiling the atmosphere for everyone else. Thus, the cellular shop was arguably the most desirable setting for retail which classical cities ever offered to traders. The wider regulation of artisanal activity, via stalls in the plaza, was perhaps not universally applied in the same way. Nonetheless, the dispersed pockets of evidence we have do suggest common customs. The practice of reserving places for trade is most visible in Asia Minor, but ultimately was a habit seen at Pompeii, and is attested at Antioch. Given how ephemeral this evidence is, it is entirely plausible to see it as representing practice across the Mediterranean. The rareness of topos inscriptions on streets in the Near East might have more to do with the popularity of basalt paving and granite columns than it had to do with commercial customs. At Antioch, 43  Strip buildings, north-west provinces: Perring (2002) 55–60. Popularity in bourgades / small towns and vici: Burnham and Wacher (1990) 18 and 27.

Conclusion: Themes and Controversies

we see privileges extended for shop owners to use parts of public space, but there is also something new, not visible in the shops: the suggestion of hierarchy, that those in the plaza might be mainly sellers of agricultural goods, foodstuffs etc., who were there for a few hours. It is easy to see that having a guaranteed pitch helped tradesmen who did not own property in the city, such as the men of Hierapolis visiting Aphrodisias for market day. They had confidence of a cash return in bringing their produce to such a distant market place. At Sagalassos, the internal regulation of stalls is also visible, including the opening of a pedestrian passageway through the canopies, where customers might circulate. Clearly, the customer had advantages from knowing when and where a particular market might be available, as did all other parties who used streets and squares for processions, or public ceremonies, or informal meetings. I think that we could postulate that late antique city fathers sought to produce a type of regulation very close to our own: a mentality which encouraged all types of non-disruptive activity, especially commercial activity, which provided stable opportunities to invest in, but ensured that complex behaviours carried out within a city did not result in conflict. Rules on traffic access, commercial exploitation, or ritual use could be carefully calibrated. Thus, Julian of Ascalon’s rule book can be seen as being representative of the spirit of the age, as revealed by archaeology and epigraphy, not a contradiction of it. Admittedly, legal evidence reveals that it was taxation which now drove the organisation of weights and measures, not customer protection, and that collegia were retained by the State in order to perform compulsory public services. Yet, despite this, the overwhelming feeling from Asia Minor, where the evidence is richest, is that artisans were welllooked after during the 4th-6th c. In a covered shopping mall today, the supremacy of money as an organising principle is all-pervasive. It is often difficult to sit down without buying something to eat. Almost every aspect of decoration is designed to sell something, and collective activities are designed with promotions in mind. There is little space for protesters, itinerant preachers, beggars, or buskers, as one might find in a city centre without a roof. This was my own experience, as post-industrial prosperity led to the renewal of the shopping malls in my home town. When a rain-proof ceiling was installed over our civic centre, my busking was no longer tolerated. Piped Christmas pop songs now replaced the carols of my euphonium. I was expelled. In Late Antiquity, the atmosphere was somewhat different. Despite the comfortable amenity which was developed in city centres, the activities of artisans were balanced to a higher degree with those of their citizens and neighbours. Artisans had to accept the high

443 standards of the city in terms of maintenance, but also to tolerate people who sat out in public space to chat, with no intention of buying anything. Children’s games might occasionally disrupt stalls, just as beggars left their odour on shopfronts overnight. No doubt wealthy students who played jokes on shopkeepers hesitated little in vomiting against their portals, after an evening of wine-fuelled merriment. Thus, the lives of the people from the ergasteria were constrained and structured by the city, as well as by relationships of patronage with local bigwigs and more modest customers, their selling being interrupted by the theatre of the street, which might demand some participation. There were surely occasions when all artisans could do was shut up their shops, as a public celebration or protest got out of hand. This was not the anonymous experience of a contemporary shopping mall, with a security team ready to remove troublemakers and loungers. The street was much more open. Retail conditions were dependent on respectful relationships and civic support, not just money. Religious Life The contribution of ‘public space’ to the study of late antique religion is mixed. This book has not considered religious activity for its own sake, neither in terms of its cult buildings nor in terms of domestic / personal settings. Religion has only strongly overlapped with public space in terms of processions. This is partly a problem of chronology: pagan activity in fora / agorai ends near the start of our period. But there are some grounds for suggesting that set-piece sacrifices were rare in civic plazas, even by the time of the Tetrarchy. Thus, my remarks concern the oblique intersection of religious activity with public space, and take little account of wider religious developments, to which the behaviour recorded here might be of little importance. We know that, into the later 4th c., give or take a Constantinian pause, there were small-scale sacrifices at the start of city council meetings, in the law court, in the mint, and at wells used to draw water for the Market Place. These were not enormous hecatombs, as desired in the imagination of a pagan revivalist like Julian, but rather small-scale rituals, just to ensure that public business was valid.44 One can imagine deals being struck in front of a statue of Mercury / Hermes of the Market Place in this manner. It was religion with a civic function rather than dramatic 44  Altars in law courts, for sacrifice: Lactant. De mortibus persecutorum 15. Altars in public buildings: Amm. Marc. 22.11.9 (mint of Alexandria); Amb. Ep. 17 (or 72) and 18 (or 73) and 17a (or 72a) (Senate of Rome). Sacrifices at places used to draw water for the market place, to sprinkle on foodstufs: Joh. Chrys. Ad Theodorum lapsum (Treatise) 19.7–10. Julian’s expectations of civic sacrifice: Julian Mis. 25–26361.

444 devotional practice. Christianity had no church-approved mechanism to replace this system of guarantees, which its founder had preached against. But the need was there. Given the descriptions of Chrysostom, of Christian oaths in the market place, the practice is likely to have been carried forward. The role of religious symbols in apotropaic practices, at gates and on lintels, seems to have found Christian usages more easily. By the 6th c., it was everywhere, carrying out the same roles but using a different religious language. The setting of major temples around fora / agorai reminds us that classical polytheism had been entirely entrenched in civic life, with its cults protecting the city, sometimes very specifically its institutions (in the cult of ʻConcord of the curiaʼ) or its relationship to emperors (in a sebasteion or capitolium). Its buildings were prominent, centrally situated, and well-positioned monumentally, in a manner in which churches simply never were. One can even go so far as to say that religion was the primary activity of the classical city in its Archaic centuries, bringing people together for festivals and then assemblies, as a consequence of the foundation of shrines. Yet, it had been hundreds of years since anyone had seriously invested in this model, of dominant pagan temples on the acropolis or on the main plaza of cities. Zancker has pointed out as much at Pompeii, where after the earthquake of 62, it was civic political buildings, not the temples of the forum, which took precedence for repairs. It is also worth noting that the forum at Sarmizegetusa, founded by Trajan, like those of many British cities, was now a courtyard building, of porticoes and a civil basilica, in which shrines could be found but were not the main focus of architectural attention.45 By the start of Late Antiquity, the dominant position of temples on the fora of many cities was a legacy of habit, the result of inertia, perhaps even an anachronism. It is not really surprising that they lost this pre-eminent position over time, even if it did not happen immediately. The manner in which the new religion managed to pervade civic life was not through any Christian cults adapted to the business of civic government. One never saw a chapel to ‘St. Basil of the Curia’ or an icon to the ʻTheotokos of the Agora. Whereas the army painted its shields with large crosses, eventually participating in Christian liturgy prior to battle, cities did not take up religion in a strategic manner. This left a substantial ʻsecularʼ space in public life, in which Jews and Samaritans were not excluded from being city councilors. They were 45  Civic buildings repaired before temples at Pompeii: Zancker (1998) 124–131. Sarmizegetusa forum: see overview in Étienne, Piso and Diaconescu (1990). Fora of British cities: see various plans and discussion in Wacher (1990) and Balty (1991).

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prevented from being defensores in 438 in the East, but this does not seem to have spread in the West until the Reconquest.46 There was the sign of the cross on public inscriptions from 400, but we know of no liturgy for the city administrators that might directly support their business, even in a place like Antioch, where Christian city councillors were in the majority by the time of Libanius.47 Rather, we often find religion manifested in public space in the form of personal doodles and graffiti writings, informal, lacking any public authority, done by individuals. We can perhaps see the fundamentally personal aspect of Christian and Jewish religion in this period, spilling out of church buildings and synagogues to change public space from the bottom up, rather than the top down, pavement markings being symptoms of wider change rather than a cause. So it was, in some Christian processions: they were held by night, in the early hours, for the benefit of participants not onlookers, journeying to distant shrines, whilst others were in bed. This kind of action in public space probably outnumbered occasions either for rivalry or civic function. If Christians really did take over the routes and function of a pagan procession or two at Rome, there were far more occasions when they did not. The holding of supplicatory processions for cities was something that came at moments of crisis and was not without civic precedent. They represent the outpouring of devotional practice into the city from shrines rather than a direct attempt to claim the polis: a world of private prayers rather than of civic sacrifices. All of this represents, to my interpretation, bottom up religious change, reflecting the history of Christianity as an alternative subculture until the 4th c., until it stumbled unsystematically into civic life. Its political standing was utterly different to the established pagan cults, or to Christianity in the European Middle Ages. Cultural Life It is possible to see late antique texts about the city as providing a way of experiencing the world, of passing scenes in the street, of entertainment in the shops, of social stimulation and connectivity in the agora. This is stimulating, although the observations made are not especially original nor distinctive to the late antique period. More significant, perhaps, are conclusions that can be drawn about urban culture from the architectural 46  On Christianity in the army, see Shean (2010) and Koehn (2018) chapter 2.2 (not seen). I thank A. Sarantis. On Jews as curiales and defensores, see Laniado (2006) 325–26; Cod. Theod. 16.8.24 (418); Nov. Theod. 3.2 = Cod. Iust. 1.9.18 (438). 47  Christian councillors of Antioch in majority by time of Julian: see Petit (1955) (page no not available) which sees pagans in the minority (as low as 1/5) during the decades after the mid4th c. I thank A. DeGiorgi for this reference.

Conclusion: Themes and Controversies

form of public space and how it was regulated. What does this general architectural frame, of streets, squares, shops, and markets, and its surface markings, tell us about the overall nature of late antique urban civilisation, which we might wish to compare with other periods and cultures? This is not straightforward: the weight of inertia in any city, especially one that evolved slowly over 1,000 years or more, often complicates such a reading of society from the evidence. Furthermore, many interpretations must remain hypothetical, as we do not have a significant number of ancient references concerned with these topics, which were not considered worthy of literature. That said, the construction of arguments about society from material evidence, especially spatial information, is a basic preoccupation in archaeology, whatever a classicist might think. Here, I will look at cultural identity, planning, law, citizenship, and communality, all of which could be thought of as aspects of political life, but are better considered as political culture, as they go beyond activity of specific institutions to define the general nature of life in a polis / civitas of this period. This city level of politics defined the lives of people in Late Antiquity more strongly than did the Imperial State which was made up of the emperor, the army, and Roman law. Cultural Identity: Memory and Legitimacy For cultural identity, there is no substitute for a general impression. If one were to travel down the main avenue of an East Mediterranean city in A.D. 600, one would notice colonnades, abundant displays of commercial produce, monumental building façades, fountains, statues, and busy traffic of both pedestrians and vehicles, but not churches. These were hardly visible to someone moving along most parts of these streets. From the middle of the roadway, one would not have seen inscribed crosses nor Christian pictures, unless one squinted. Even in some entirely new centres, like Justiniana Prima, where churches were set within a network of streets and squares, they were often placed behind atria, not dominating public space. This would be a very different experience to someone travelling through an early 16th c. city in Europe, where streets and plazas took the names of saints, where churches were the most impressive monuments of a city, and where religious images were everywhere. The world of Late Antiquity was a society which had inherited the position of Christian churches as private cult buildings not as civic and state temples. The effects of these arrangements were long lasting. Equally, Greek cities retained a large part of their architectural heritage, by intent rather than by accident. Culturally this was very much still the ancient city, of which churches were the latest arrival. In the West,

445 Germanic cultural identity seems to have made little or no headway in public space, except perhaps in the form of some parades, of punishment or adventus, when the ethnic conquerors assembled as a group. The city was still a place of memory, seen especially in its plazas. An air of mystery, even sanctity, survived around the Vulcanal in the Roman Forum, into the early 5th c. at least. It extended perhaps to the time of Procopius, with his evocative story of the Temple of Janus found here. The same awe about founding mysteries was transferred to the Forum of Constantine in the eastern capital, with its legendary relics. One could expect to see very old statues in the Forum at Rome, and names on triumphal arches that had been carved hundreds of years earlier. Earthquakes and fire still left much to be seen and to be recorded by medieval travellers in Rome and by the Palatine Anthology in the East. Active care for statues led Thubursicu to bring images of Trajan and Constantine into its new forum, whereas Philippi and Aphrodisias kept statues of some Early Imperial civic figures until the end. Sometimes, interest in the past took on the air of reinvention, as with the new base for Sabina in Forum of Caesar or the composite statue of Marcus Aurelius in Cyrene. Aquileia also thought it necessary to (re-)erect a statue to the father of Virgil, whilst a governor in Ephesus re-erected a statue of ‘Piso’ a priest of the 2nd c. Repairs to statuary suggest a love for what was old, into the 6th c., even if it was not always a universal value. Occasionally, one feels a note of pity, as broken statues are displayed, despite their wounds, in the Levant. In Greek cities, the omnipresence of mythological decoration, from Gaza to Ephesus, sometimes as specific as the statues of Androklos and the boar at Ephesus, reminds one of the strong attachments of civic communities to their founding myths and ancient stories. By the 6th c., direct patronage of pagan gods had to go: the ruler of city, as shown on a gate or arch, must not be a pagan divinity. An imperial bust, a cross, or an icon was now more appropriate. But classical mythology was far from extirpated from civic identity. To it were added Christian tales, creative re-imaginings, and misunderstandings of local history, to produce the lore known by writers as diverse as John Malalas and John Lydus, where inherited texts were combined with rationalisation and guesswork. To these writers, mastery of memories conferred legitimacy on institutions and nourished emotional attachment to one’s community. It likely did the same for cities across the late antique world. Planning and Law: Regulation with Consent The planning which went into running cities was still complex, but we must remain nuanced. The development of street grids reveals a lack of interest in urban

446 articulation, beyond the level of the street, except when two great colonnaded streets crossed at a central monument. Urban elements were not as well-integrated as in Severan Lepcis Magna nor as in later Baroque cities. Sightlines were not exploited, whilst monuments were set in plazas, as if the view of the pedestrian mattered, rather than that of the architect. A degree of uniformity and control did exist at the level of pedestrianised roadways, traffic management, and street design. The articulation of junctions was certainly being developed further, as wall-arches began to disappear into arcaded porticoes. Similarly, porches came to be less accented by the 6th c. than they had been in the 4th c. Street lighting, spreading from the 5th c. especially, can undoubtedly be seen as a large-scale endeavour, illuminating whole avenues. These were increasingly planned as units rather than left to develop piecemeal. Similarly, sidewalks were provided in the East for whole streets, more frequently than earlier. Urban regulations do seem to have been slightly looser and more pragmatic by the 6th c. than in Early Imperial times, but this was a society in which technical knowledge of urban infrastructure remained intact and where there was an appetite for innovation. This is particularly obvious in the design of urban water features but is also seen in continued architectural experimentation elsewhere. Conservation of technical knowledge contributed to a level of amenity in public space in the 6th c. East that was far closer to 2nd c. Antioch or Rome than it was to the Middle Ages. Indeed, the planning of street amenity was frankly more developed than anything seen in the Early Imperial period: there was very little that was ‘medieval’ about late antique public space, in terms of technology or design. The degree to which regulations were enforced by law is of course a significant area of doubt. The legal evidence and the rule book of Julian of Ascalon provide us with one set of reference points, but archaeology and epigraphy speak in their own way. The design of shops is both similar in conception and different in detail, suggesting a legal template interpreted locally. The conception of the portico is also so similar across different regions as to think its rights and duties were enforced with reference to imperial statues. When one looks at cities where monumental urbanism survived strongly, there is also very little evidence of portico encroachment. We see regulations on subjects such as street lighting being displayed in cities, as at Apamea. But there was no single model for regulating something as smelly as the meat trade, as the varied popularity of macella and other market buildings reveals. The same is suggested in variations in right-hand drive. Justinian’s repetition (for Constantinople) of regulations on free funerals demonstrates the difficulty of maintaining imperial intentions even in the heart of power. The encroachment of back

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streets by great houses demonstrates how patrons could assert themselves just outside the main avenue, away from the hotspots of civic life, even when ‘little people’ could not. We can see law in public space as being a cultural practice, not simply an imposed system, in which some rules were followed when others were ignored. For example, there was no heavy industry within cities, as Julian of Ascalon wished, but small-scale kilns were present. This legal culture was clearly decided at a civic level, even if it responded to the initiatives of central powers. The reason why main streets were kept open and beautiful in so many eastern cities was undoubtedly because the majority of their citizens wanted it that way. Law could inform urban plans and contracts, and assets could be seized in court, but regulation required consent to function. Inevitably, rules that did work were those which were crafted well to the needs of the masses and to the needs of those people who were able to protest their interests locally. Citizenship: Luxurious Amenity for the Masses It is tempting to adopt a fully cultural perspective on regulation, law, and amenity. One might take up relativism, and say that the form of public space in the late antique city was somehow arbitrary: the expression of a series of ideas which had its time and place, but which were no more worthy than any other set of urban concepts. There is something to this perspective: cultural traditions are certainly visible, both regionally and at a koine level. But this perspective does break down somewhat when looking at amenity. I find myself identifying with the subjects of my study and departing from scholarly detachment. For me, hard surfaces and sewers, nuisance avoidance, and property rights are undeniable aspects of the public good, which give freedoms, despite being unsung. Night watchmen prevented crime, whilst expectations about traffic direction reduced collisions, just as sidewalks protected pedestrians from accidents. Porticoes are not simply decorative screens of columns: they keep people dry and shaded, and that is what late antique texts say. Street cleaning prevented drains from blocking which might breed sickness. Fountains saved those without cisterns from thirst and allowed them to cook and wash clothes. We know that they were heavily used from the bucket marks on the edges of fountain parapets. One can argue that street lighting and street cleaning are luxuries, which ‘dynamic’ medieval cities ignored. Yet, it never feels like that today when we are deprived of them. Rather, all of these services seem to be pragmatic improvements of the lives of city dwellers. It is tempting to see a certain ‘vulgarity’ in some of these urban refinements, focused more on practical use than those of earlier periods: with all their gameboards, clocks, and sidewalks. Rather than being constrained by

Conclusion: Themes and Controversies

geometry or the demands of politics, the city was gradually becoming an enormous accessible lounge, suitable for shopping or socialising in many weathers. In some ways, this seems close to our own world, in which comfort has a high value, although, in Late Antiquity, it did not come at the expense of style. Luxury was part of this amenity, if provided in hard marble rather than in corporate carpets. Indeed, the opus sectile floors of eastern porticoes were set so as to be visible to pedestrian users, rather than to any dignitaries in the street. One might even state that the architecture of public space, in Constantinople and the cities of the Levant, attained a quality that was effectively as high as that of the houses of the very rich, an achievement perhaps not equalled anywhere else in human history. Whilst the beggar in Pompeii sat on a mortar bench on a gravel sidewalk, without a portico, catching fleeting glimpses of the colonnaded gardens of private homes, a beggar in 6th c. Laodicea sat on a stone bench in a shady portico, with a floor of polished marble slabs, of many colours, just as if he were sitting inside the peristyles of the wealthy. It is clear that amenity increased within the period of Late Antiquity, in such areas as street lighting and sidewalk provision, rather than simply representing continuity with earlier times. As I have noted, this luxurious aspect to streets and squares, developed from within the tradition of the classical city, was perhaps a challenge for some Christian ambitions. It was no doubt disappointing for the Christian guardian of a beggar in Alexandria to hear that his dependent preferred to go back to the agora. As Palladius tells us, the beggar wanted to sit amongst the crowds in the plaza and be given meat, perhaps the product of a decent macellum, rather than sit in a Christian home with only one person for company and be fed inferior foodstuffs. When bishops did take on civic administration beyond the walls of the church, they found charity was only one of the many things they had to do. Choricius praised Bishop Marcian for his new churches, his work on the city walls, his restoration of street porticoes, which helped people to get to the baths, and his role in festivals. In contrast, he gives a couple of lines to Marcian’s hospital, almost as an aside. Perhaps there was a shortage of misery of 6th c. Gaza, and it was not that expensive to cater for. Admittedly, medium-sized cities had as many as 7 such hospitals, but that does not mean they used up the greatest part of ecclesiastical or public resources in a city.48 48  Bishop Marcian (under Justinian), at Gaza, builds house of the poor: Choricius Or. 1.78; builds churches: Or. 1.15–77, Or. 2.1, 2.17–57; repairs the city wall: Or. 1.7 (his action), 2.16 (oversees others doing it); porticoes built and streets cleaned: Or. 8.52 (510s or 520s following the edn. of Litsas (1980) 291); presides over festivals: Choricius Or. 1.12, 1.83, 1.88. On the numbers of

447 The mechanisms available to account for the growth of luxurious amenity are limited. It is possible that part of it was achieved by commuting civic obligations into cash and spending it systematically on the services that individuals had been asked previously to provide. Such commutations are well attested in administration elsewhere during our period. Thus, whilst cities lost control over some old civic revenues, they raised new money, likely during the 5th c., by ensuring that shop owners paid for oil lamps, sewers, etc. for which they were liable to fix, in cash rather than as a compulsory service. This could have provided the renewed late antique city of the 5th to 6th c. with a new source of funds to improve the street itself. However, amenity does seem to go beyond what shop owners might be obliged to provide. There are many traits of late public space that cannot be explained by commuting their obligations into money. The provision of sundials is not associated with shops in any way and does not seem to benefit them directly. Seats in public space were distinctly non-essential and often created from pieces of discarded architectural blocks. There were new processes active, that were not simply extensions or systemisations of private interest. There is something local and bottom-up about the nature of amenity in late antique public space, as if it was created by intimate contact between people who lived in faceto-face communities. The architectural focus on plazas as settings for monuments, neglecting urban sightlines, and the tendency to preserve streets rather than street grids all reinforces this local focus, in which the appearance of a square or street section mattered at the level of a neighbourhood, rather than anything beyond that. An effective civic ethic was at work, within a crowded landscape of public welfare, in which Christian charity played a supporting role, rather than replacing secular political engagement. No justification survives for the great amenity of the late antique city: Julian of Ascalon gave us a rule book, not a treatise. But something close to it does survive, coming from the writings of Choricius. In describing an urban festival (of a saint, but not obviously so), set amongst a calendar of ecclesiastical and secular holidays, he muses that festivals play a special role in making things lighter for everyone. Life has its ups and downs for each household, no matter who they are. But festivals make this easier to bear—by giving everyone a joyous holiday which can lessen or extinguish misfortunes. Festivals are places to make friends, settings where people put aside rivalries, where masters forget to discipline slaves, where women are free to wander, and where good citizens point out marvels to those hospitals, noting that Hermopolis in Egypt had 7 hospitals in the 7th c. see Horden (2012) 729. Of course, there was likely considerable regional variation.

448 who have not seen them.49 One might, of course, say much the same thing about late antique public space as a whole, in the 6th c. East. This environment gave everyone a setting in which to make memories, to celebrate common values, and to enjoy the company of others, beyond whatever hovel one could afford. An alternative existence, which transcended one’s personal circumstances, was waiting outside each house door. This great gift, built on the urban inheritance of Greece and Rome, was open to everyone and provided solid reasons for wanting to belong to a city community. The highly developed nature of amenity in late antique public space conveys something powerful about urban citizenship in this period. It was no longer about debates, minutes, and voting, but it was still very broad-based, serving the needs of the masses, not just the vainglory of a few patrons. This was a society in which the balance of interests in the street lay firmly in favour of citizens, not in favour of private interests. Collective participatory government was strongly rooted and persisted right across the centuries of Roman rule. However, this was no ‘dead-hand of the State’. Property had its place in regulated rights. It was simply never allowed to overturn the essential form of public space as a comfortable meeting place open to all. Elites were still engaged in providing public services. These were provided at a uniformly high level all over the empire in the 4th c., and in much of the East in the 5th to 6th c. Of course, parts of city government were oligarchic and imperial government was nominally autocratic, but consent was important, as the sinews of power were relatively weak, especially at city level. There were still many opportunities to express views in the street and for leaders of society to compete on a public stage, through demonstrations of support or wealth, in everyday street processions. Popular participation was occasionally violent, but not vastly more than in our own societies. Riots did take place, sporting factions might clash fatally, and public enemies could meet sticky ends. Things got worse when soldiers were billeted in cities, especially when they put down or joined in riots. Even so, there was no breakdown in social order within areas where the city survived. Urban discontent seems to have been newsworthy rather than normal. Archaeological and epigraphic evidence suggests that bishops, factions, notables, and governors generally did their jobs well. Nonetheless, it would be a mistake to see late antique public space as representing only an inheritance from the classical past. The chronology of works on low-level amenity is a little troubling. It does seem to be 49  Festivals as remedy against anxieties of life: Choricius Or. 1.12. Husbands and wives: Or. 2.66. Slaves and masters: Or. 2.67–68; Young women: Or. 2.68.

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especially strong for the 5th to 6th c., for sidewalks, sewers, water supplies, and fountains (graphs 7–8 and 29, when one considers the overall trend in building work), and at precisely the time when Christianity becomes visible in public space. The focus on repair in the 4th c. does seem to relate to civic poverty, but it is noticeable, in the later 5th to 6th c. East, that a return to civic prosperity is not spent on new flashy monuments but rather on low-level improvement. Could we thus have a Christianised ethic of civic service, growing instead of just an identitarian Christianisation? We cannot prove this, as the textual evidence is far from perfect for the 5th to 6th c. Certainly, powerful lay families could be deeply Christianised: in their daily habits, in the works that they supported, in what they read, or in how they used and interpreted art in their villas. In terms of civic values, we can note the case of two governors of Edessa, ca. 500, Alexander and Demosthenes. They were civil governors who, quite apart from regular law courts, took it on themselves to hear justice for the poor, every Friday in front of a church, to lead public funerals, and to establish a xenodochium in the winter baths.50 Their actions can be matched directly with those of bishops of 6th to early 7th c. date, like St. John the Almsgiver (giving justice from the poor in front of a church, every Friday), Marcian of Gaza (founding a xenodochium, above), or Hypatius of Ephesus (organising funerals for free). It seems that we have governors who actively imitated bishops in the form of their secular public engagement. This was a case of the old imitating the new, as an archaeologist would say, a stage of development when one technology challenges another. Men like Alexander may well have extended amenity in public space in the 5th-6th c. from the bottom-up, because they felt this was more in tune with the needs of poorer citizens, including shopkeepers, rather than just the destitute. The growth of a Christian civic ethic cannot be proven based on the limited textual evidence we have. It remains a suspicion, given the popularity of work on small scale amenity after the mid-5th c. But most public works taken forward by civic-minded Christians had their roots firmly in the classical past, from which such works were derived. The lesson was absorbed and developed by Christianity, not simply given by it. Whilst amphitheatres were bad, fountains could be good. Inter-Communality: Confessional Plurality in Social Life Given the prominence of the Church in late antique cities, it is tempting to think that Christianisation led to social

50  Governors at Edessa, ca. A.D. 500, act like bishops: Josh. Styl. 29 (Alexander) and 43 (Demosthenes).

Conclusion: Themes and Controversies

isolation from those of other faiths, and of some kind of social breakdown, as a ʻtotalisingʼ Christian discourse led to the end to the confessional plurality of social life, the kind of ʻghetto-isationʼ which French political theorists fear. Here, we must not allow the rhetoric of Christian preachers to mislead us. John Chrysostom’s critique of the life of the agora sought to replace deal-making, politicking, showing off, and flirting with contemplation. But this was never achieved. His idealistic values were those of a subculture and they remained so. The Roman city did not turn into ‘a repressive Medina’, during Late Antiquity, as I heard one scholar remark, whatever that is supposed to be. There were restrictions on the forms of popular festivals held in public space, inspired by church teaching. Some of these can be linked to imperial laws, others to the actions of bishops, but there was also a secular street culture of seasonal fun that continued to thrive, drawing on both pagan and Christian roots, open to all. We certainly find that Christian festivals could involve excess, whilst older once-ʻpaganʼ holidays retained formal ritual elements, such as processions in costume. Public space reflected the fact that this was a broad society, with a place in street porticoes for portraits of saints, just as there was a place here for images of charioteers. This ‘breadth’ extended to providing space for discussion on theological topics: from the Manicheans preaching in the maritime forum of Carthage, in Augustine’s day, to the philosophers speculating on the nature of the divine in the Basilica courtyard of Constantinople, under Justinian. Whilst Manicheans could not often operate in public, pagan teachers could, in Alexandria until ca. 486 and in Athens until 529, with others working in Constantinople, Seleucia in Isauria, and Aphrodisias, until the mid to later 5th c.51 From the late 4th c., 51  Pagan teachers, 5th-6th c. East: Szabat (2007). Szabat lists 320 teachers, of whom at least the following 23 are considered pagan [R = rhetor, P = philosopher, S = sophist, M = medical teacher, G = grammaticus, followed by date and place active, and any known details of persecution]: no. 23 Apollodoros R E/M5 near Ankara;? no. 24 Aphrodisios R P E/M5 near Ankara?; no. 27 Aretarchus S R M5 Seleucia in Isauria; no. 31 Asklepiodotus P L5 Alexandria, Athens, Aphrodisias; no. 47 Chryseros S E/M 5 near Ankara; no. 50 Damaskios P Athens, Alexandria, 5th / 6th c.; no. 63 Domninos P Athens / Laodicea M/L5; no. 78 Eulampios S E/M5 near Ankara?; no. 94 Gessios M L5 Alexandria—became a nominal Christian to avoid persecution; no. 97 Hegias P 5/6 Athens; no. 101 Heraiskos P M/L5 Alexandria persecuted; no. 125 (Flavius) Horapollon G P M/L 5th c. Alexandria persecuted; no. 147 Isidorus P L5 Alexandria, Athens, left Alexandria after persecutions of ca. 486; no. 151 Isokasios G S P M5 Antioch, Cple, Persecuted at Cple in 467, forced baptism; no. 166 Leontios S L5 Alexandria?; no. 171 Marinos P R L5 Athens; no. 194 Olympiodorus P M6 Alexandria probably pagan; no. 209 Pamprepios G, grammistes M/L5 Athens and Cple, accused of magic and treason 478, then executed by his patron Ilus in 484 (a friend of other

449 sacrifices and devotional processions were not permitted in public space, and many groups were severely disadvantaged. Yet, one did not have to become a Christian nor demonstrate orthodoxy to use the agora. It is important to note that Christianisation beyond the churches did not overturn the low-level rights and privileges of public space set out above. This was a worldly Christianisation, for better or worse, in which mythological fountains could be tolerated with some editing, and in which gameboards could be decorated by crosses. Even entertainment buildings could be sanctified: that at Side was repaired with large crosses set on the piers of the vaults, associated with inscriptions for different πατέρες, whilst bishop Gregory was given imperial funds to build a hippodrome at Antioch under Maurice.52 Erotic signs had almost disappeared from graffiti and material culture, but exotic dancers still performed in the theatre.53 Away from public buildings, religious ghettos do not seem to have developed in Late Antiquity, even if there could be a concentration of evidence for Jews around synagogues, which might have produced the ‘Jewish street’ in 6th c. Alexandria, noticed by Haas. The earlier Jewish Quarter of this great city, noted by Josephus, which had not excluded synagogues elsewhere in the city was not recreated. At Sardis, Aphrodisias, and Emesa, Jews lived mixed with Christian neighbours.54 Any process of cantonment, where it can pagans); no. 227 Ploutarchos S E/M5 Athens; no. 233 Proklos P M/L5 Athens; no. 234 Proklos S L5 Aphrodisias; no. 252 Severianos S M5 Alexandria? Damascus?; no. 254 Silvanos P 5th / 6th c. Athens?. On Ouranios, a medical doctor who disputed publicly about philosophy and the nature of the gods in the Basilica courtyard at Cple, before leaving Justinian’s empire with a trip to Persia in 531 / 532: Agath. Hist. 3.29.1–8. 52   Repair of entertainment buildings, Side: Foss (1996) 37; Antioch: Joh. Eph. Hist. eccl. 5.17 (under Bishop Gregory in 588), with Lee (2007). 53  Erotic graffiti disappears: of non-text graffiti signs, Langner (2001) mentions only gladiatorial signs trailing off up to Late Antiquity (p. 144) and presents only one erotic graffito sign from a likely late antique context, which is just a topos inscription for someone called Eros (Roueché (1993) 107), although a governor of the name of Eros is attested in the city: ALA 19. Erotic symbols are absent from African Red slip, Late Roman C, and Cypriot Red Slip, as studied by Hayes in LRP. They are also absent from the iconography of everyday material culture in Late Antiquity reviewed by Talloen (2011) at Sagalassos. Exotic dancers in the theatre: Webb (2008). 54  Alexandria, Jewish street in 6th c.: Haas (1997) 127 n.89. Jewish district, Hellenistic to 1st c.: Joseph BJ 2.18.8. Synagogues in each section of Early Imperial city, though Jews can live concentrated around them: Philo Leg 20. For Jews living in specific districts at Rome see Simon (1991) 133. However, I know of nothing approaching a medieval ghetto. For Aphrodisias (Sebasteion) and Sardis (Street past the gymnasium) see the discussion of religious signs in the street life chapter and appendices Y4 and Y8 on shops, supported by Stephens Crawford

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be suggested at all, seems to be on patronal lines, and is not directly connected to religion. The only exception are castra set around a very small number of episcopal churches, which say more of the late political role of the bishop than a desire to shut faiths off from each other. Although there was legal discrimination, there was no systematic attempt to make a law for Christians separate to that for Jews, such as existed between Franks and Romans, or between Muslim conquerors and subject populations. Even in Arian barbarian kingdoms it is not clear that cities were spatially segregated in terms of different church parties. Although religion pervaded the street, probably only a small number of people engaged in active debate over controversial ideas within it. Gregory of Nyssa recorded such disputation at Alexandria but because it was noteworthy from an Anatolian perspective. At Antioch, as elsewhere, market-goers seem to have been more interested in chatting about some performing dog, or about a visiting dancer, or all the other mundane matters that crowded the heads of late antique citizens, whether they sat on the steps of a fountain or stood by the doors of a church. Outside of later 4th to earlier 5th c. Alexandria and late 5th to mid-5th c. Antioch, we only rarely find contentions over theology spilling into streets and squares: riots were as likely to be about sporting rivalries or grain shortages. Whitby has noted the strong local variation of such violence: conflictual episodes should not be taken as typical, as well-documented cities show great chronological differences in the record of disturbances. He also points out that the destruction of life (rather than property) in riots was nothing when compared to that recorded for war and natural calamities. Urban conflicts, over the Council of Chalcedon, were, it seems, more frequent from the later 5th c. Nonetheless, as Liebeschuetz has argued, they can sometimes be connected specifically to the consecration of bishops imposed by the emperor, rather than being a constant feature of urban life in the East. Whilst 4th c. Africa and Alexandria both have some recorded Christian-PaganJewish violence, riots in the 5th to 6th c. tended to be between Christians or between circus factions, rather than against pagans or Jews. When persecution of pagans did break out, it was often connected to conspiracies against the emperor or secular rivalries, sparked by some excess which offended one party, within cities that had long seen street conflicts. This is not to say that coercion did not play a role in inter-communal relations. Rather it is to suggest that religious violence, legal or extra-legal, manifested in public space, was local and (1990). For Emesa, see Leont. N. v. Sym. part 4 for two episodes of interaction with Jewish artisans and other shopkeepers of varied Christian denominations.

specific, related to or displaced by other conflicts, and might be untypical.55 Here, we need to draw on broader evidence and recognise the counter-story of confessional relations in Late Antiquity: that some non-orthodox places of worship did survive, even as others were closed. Simple narratives of persecution constructed from texts do not tell the whole story. Pagan temples were closed, sometimes desacralised / desecrated,56 and very occasionally destroyed, most especially in the ʻGreater Near Eastʼ (from Cilicia to Alexandria).57 Yet they did survive within the urban fabric in many places, with the retention of festivals that would allow those of traditional sentiment to continue some veneration. Meeting places of ʻhereticsʼ outside of any church structure (Valentinians etc.) were also closed in the 4th c. We do not hear of them regaining any meeting places beyond the early 5th c. Like pagans of the 5th c., their rites would have to take place in private houses or in remote spots in the countryside, not within public space.58 However, schismatics did rather 55  Background of urban violence: Liebeschuetz (2001) 249–69 on riots of all types, with two episodes of pagan persecution, focusing on Alexandria, explored above all by Haas (1997) with Downey (1961) 485–90 (not seen) on Monophysite vs Chalcedonian violence in Antioch. A broader review is provided by Whitby (2006), noting that the history of riot in Alexandria and Antioch shows significant variation, with far less disturbances in the former city after the later 5th c., esp. on pp. 448–49. 56  Temples closed: Cod. Theod. 16.10.2 (A.D. 341, no sacrifices), 16.10.6 (A.D. 356, no sacrifices), (16.10.4, A.D. 346 / 354 / 356 temples closed), 16.10.12 (A.D. 392 private cult forbidden), 16.10.11 (A.D. 391) and 16.10.13 (A.D. 395 temples cannot be visited, sacrifices forbidden); 16.10.24 (A.D. 435 general destruction of temples), (16.10.12 A.D. 392, no wreaths to penates or binding of trees). Concessions to protect festivals (16.10.3 A.D. 346 / 342; 16.10.8 A.D. 382), art works (16.10.15 A.D. 399) and architecture (16.10.18 A.D. 399). See laws assembled and critiqued by Caseau (2011a). 57  On temple desacralisation, destruction, and retention, see papers in Lavan and Mulryan (2011), with Lavan (2011) xxv noting 2.4% of urban and rural sites being destroyed in Gaul. Bayliss (2004) 16–25, 124–25, 43 fig. 3 lists only 3 cases of temple destruction confirmed by archaeology, of which 1 was by an earthquake. In my own study (appendices P1 and Q1) there are only 5 or 6 possible cases where coercion in removing a temple might have been involved. Walsh (2019) 78–85, reviewing the evidence for mithraea has 4 cases of desacralisation associated with Christians, but only 2 destructions, both of which are well-known textual sources covered by Bayliss. 58  Confiscation of heretical meeting places: Eusebius VConst. 3.64–65 (Novatians, Valentinians, Marcionites, Paulicians, Cataphrygians under Constantine). Cod. Theod. 16.5.6 (A.D. 381) (Photinians, Arians, and Eunomians (no assemblies within towns)); 16.5.8 (Eunomians, Arians, followers of Aetius cannot have churches in cities or countryside); 16.5.12 (A.D. 383) (Eunomians, Arians, Macedonians, Apollonarian, etc., not to have churches in cities or countryside); 16.5.30 (A.D. 396) (all heretics cannot meet within Cple); 16.5.35 (Eunomians and Montanists not to have meeting places in city or countryside).

Conclusion: Themes and Controversies

better. Arian churches were established across the West until the Reconquest of Justinian and existed periodically at Constantinople until the time of Justin.59 Novatian churches also lasted there for a long time, enjoying good relations with orthodox churchmen and emperors, despite differences.60 Both Arians and Novatians sometimes faced acts of violence, but not enough to cause their communities to flee or dissolve forever. Monophysites were so wellinstalled in churches across the East into the 7th c., that their presence is not worth remarking on. Synagogues were also found widely in cities and the countryside, despite occasional burnings (considered later) and confiscations.61 The confiscation of synagogues was systemMacedonians have churches in city and countryside around Constantinople taken away by Nestorius: Soc. Hist. Eccl. 7.31. 59  Arians meet outside Cple: see processions chapter. Arian church inside Cple burned: see n.91. Arian churches closed in Constantinople by Justin I: Theophanes 6016 in A.D. 524. Arian churches taken over in Africa, under reconquest: Proc. Wars 3.21.25. Arians still lobbying for churches under Tiberius II: Joh. Eph. Hist. eccl. 3.3.13. Justinian still closing churches of heretics: Cod. Iust. 1.5.12 (Justin and Justinian, 527). 60  Novatians churches allowed: Cod. Theod. 16.5.2 (A.D. 326). Novatian churches confiscated: at Alexandria by Cyril: Socrates Hist. eccl. 7.7; at Rome by Pope Innocent 7.9 and Pope Celestinus: Socrates Hist. eccl. 7.11., but established at Cple at same time 7.12 at Cple Arian Bishop Macedonius fails to destroy Novatian church at Pelargos: Socrates Hist. eccl. 2.38.29–32, Soz. Hist. eccl. 4.21.1–2. Socrates disapproving of violent actions of Macedonius, including attack on Novatian church: Socrates Hist. eccl. 2.38. However, Novatians bishops of Constantinople continued into the second half of the 5th c. and the group still had a presence on the Propontis in the 6th c., with a monastery founded in 571: Mitchell (1993) vol. 2 99, who gives a good account in English of the group in Asia Minor on 96–100. On Novatian history in general see Hirschmann (2015). 61  Synagogues burned or confiscated: Simon (1991) 156–60, Gager (2015) with 26 instances listed (6 for 4th c. mainly West; 10 for 5th c., mainly East; 10 for 6th c. East and West; 1 for 7th c. West). 3 of the cases (Stobi, Apamea, Gerasa, all conversions) are based on archaeology. N.B. Some of the cases in literary sources likely involve more than one synagogue. A new view will be available from the publication of the conference on Expropriation and Destruction of Synagogues in Late Antiquity held at Münster 14.09.2017–17.09.2017. Note that of 13 late antique synagogues outside of Palestine, the total of conversions is again 3, according to Levine (2005) 250–309. I have not included Saranda, because noticeboards seen on site by me in 2014 note it was occupied as a church only after being “destroyed from the Slavs at the end of the 6th c.”. This destruction probably affected the whole city, as it does so many sites in the Balkans. A recent article is uncertain whether there was a church conversion or a second phase of synagogue in late 5th / early 6th c., with the Jewish community lasting until 521, so after the rebuilding: Nallbani, Raynaud, Netzer, Foerster, and Lako (2011). One of the excavators has indicated to me that the conversion into a church is now considered to be Justinianic, after the second basilical synagogue. Andriake,

451 atic at Alexandria and Antioch in the early 5th c., but these events did not prevent Jews returning or synagogues from re-opening and continuing nearby, as in the case of Antioch. It is clear from archaeology that even Justinian’s laws decreeing the destruction of Samaritan synagogues were not effective. The only trace we can see, at present, is a gap in building and occupation in the area up to 10 km from Mt. Gerizim, after the 5th c. This could relate to a ban or to destruction. However, further away, Samaritan synagogues continue to be built.62 We do have archaeological examples of synagogues converted into churches, but they seem to account for no more than a quarter of the total, of which the rest continued to be occupied, repaired, or built anew. Thus, the atmosphere varied over time, and differed between regions. It was worst in the Near East, where not only Christian temple assaults but also pagan and Jewish burnings of churches are attested, that are not registered elsewhere.63 But Italy and Asia Minor long retained customs which do not fit those stereotypes of Late Antiquity inspired by legal evidence or by dramatic episodes familiar from chronicles in major centres. In many places, Jews, Samaritans, and schismatic Christians operated openly, with places of worship inside or close to cities. A sceptical archaeologist could go further and use comparative reasoning to claim that our impressions of religious conflict in Late Antiquity are wildly inaccurate, the result of believing too much hagiography. Rather, pagan temples declined from the 2nd c., and that the 4th to 6th c. was a time when Judaism flourished. Indeed, Levine (p. 248) notes that, based on the number of synagogues, it was not in Late Antiquity but rather under Islam that Judaism declined. It is worth remembering how different Late Antiquity was to the fundamentalist theocracies of modern nightmares. The reach of imperial laws was not always far: many were as unsuccessful as Diocletian’s Price Edict, despite all their fulminating recently discovered and without destruction in Late Antiquity, is excluded from this: Çevik, Çömezoğlu, Öztürk, and Türkoğlu (2010). See Levine for all synagogues built and repaired during the period, also in Palestine. 62   Samaritan synagogues in Palestine: reviewed by Azagury (2019) in an undergraduate dissertation. 63  Church burning, Near East: Amb. Ep. 40.15 (as part of his opposition to the rebuilding of the Callinicum synagogue): 8 churches burnt in the time of Julian: 2 at Damascus, and 3 at Gaza, Ascalon, Berytus (all by Jews), 1 at Alexandria (by pagans and Jews). See Haas (1997) on the latter conflict. Church burning by Jews at Ptolemais early 7th c.: Doctrina Iacobi 4.5 (a problematic source, favouring Christians) (not seen). No systematic study of church burning / conversion in Late Antiquity exists so far from which one might get an overview, to my knowledge, although I suspect it would show a strong Near Eastern bias.

452 rhetoric. This is of course a text which provides a good base line to assess legal hyperbole on religion in the period. There were real legal disabilities for minority groups, whose property might be confiscated, or might be denounced for illicit rites in times of conflict. However, there was no active religious police in Late Antiquity, nor real surveillance of ordinary public social interactions, as, for instance, in post-war East Germany. Alexandria at the time of bishop Cyril was a bruising and intolerant place, but it was not typical. The volatility of that city was exceptional in the wider world of Late Antiquity. Elsewhere, civic and religious authorities seem more concerned with performing the correct rites to ensure the safety of the State and the City, rather than controlling what people believed. What mattered was that state-approved Christianity had precedence, sometimes demonstrated by an episode of urban drama, not that it reached everyone. Christians had to accept the existence of other confessions in their daily lives. Coexistence is also suggested, by the relatively open character of public space, in which the presence of Christianity was far from over-whelming. Levine attributes the success of Judaism at this time to what he perceives as the laxity, corruption, and ineffectiveness of the late antique imperial government, an organisation which others would see as being so effective against pagans. However, it is also possible that lay Christians, even some serious ones, did not wish to live in a sectarian manner, at least towards Jews and Samaritans, and that some bishops had a bark worse than their bite. Intolerance there was, but of a sporadic local kind, which coexisted with other types of relationships, which are not often illuminated in the polemical and prescriptive texts we have. We also see groups of Jews (Old and Young) with seat reservations in the bouleuterion-odeon at Aphrodisias, within the period 460–614. Similarly, Jews and Samaritans had such places, marked by topos inscriptions, around the circus at Tyre, alongside those of artisanal corporations and circus factions of 5th to 7th c. date. Indeed, the Jewish inscriptions show a spatial association with those of the blue faction, a link made in a number of late antique sources. Further, we see Jews participating as a group in a public meeting in Naples in 536, as they had (for the last time) in the theatre at Alexandria in 415. They may also have done this at Aphrodisias, in the later 5th to 6th c., if abbreviated inscriptions from the odeon can be read in this way. This is evidence of Jews and Samaritans having rights to participate in civic life which were recognised by urban authorities, who were overwhelmingly Christian by the early 5th c.64 64  Jews in entertainment buildings: Aphrodisias (see appendix S12c): Roueché (1993) nos. 47.2 = Chaniotis (2002a) no.17–19,

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What information we have on life inside church buildings, also suggests other paths than conflict, within the dynamics of Christian groups. Clergymen had to fight day-dreaming and predictable temptation more ardently than they did theological dissonance. Today, it is common to emphasise disagreement about religion during Late Antiquity, especially to postulate that there was a boundless sea of opinions within the Church which bishops sought to contain, imposing their own arbitrary doctrines on a restless congregation. Yet, late antique society was not only broad in its interests but profoundly collective, with religious adherents often looking for agreement, at least within a given region. There were some major schisms and divisions over the nature of Christ, which animated major cities from this time, but this was not the same as a sea of variety. Monophysite nuns of Constantinople in the time of Justin II put it as follows: ‘We are but women and know nothing about controversy: but from the tradition of the Oriental Fathers we will never depart as long as we live’. Like these nuns, a great number of religious adherents attended their place of worship to participate in rituals that united them together as a community, rather than to pick over points of difference, and their response to schism was generally to follow their local leaders. Thus, both within religions and between them there were mechanisms of agreement or coexistence which could and were used to different degrees in different places.65 A reflection of these attitudes can be read in the distribution of minority religious buildings, their monumental articulation with civic infrastructure, and in the inscribed confessional signs that one finds around late antique cities. This evidence should not be ignored in a rush to document that for conflict, which is often slight. Christianity and Civic Life: What Impact? Inevitably, one is drawn into a debate on the balance between religious interests and those of civil society within public space, in view of the rise of Christianity. Did the cultural rise of Christianity or the specific public who sees on p.221 place inscriptions in the odeon for ʻyoung menʼ as young Jews, in contrast to the place inscriptions for ʻOld Jewsʼ. Tyre: Rey-Coquais (2002) 331–34, nos. 4–14; Kahwagi-Janho (2012) 43–49, with references to texting linking Jews and the Blue faction on p. 50 (one source dating to 536). Alexandria: Socrates Hist. eccl. 7.13. Naples in 536: Procop. Goth. 1.8 (participate in debate, with Goths, on response of the city to siege by Belisarius). For the odeon lip inscriptions from Aphrodisias, see Roueche (1993) no. 47.1, which may mention the group of ‘Old Jews’ (ΠΑΛ) amongst groups named after patrons, if abbreviations can be deciphered and related to others found here and outside the Theatre. 65  Monophysite nuns at Constantinople: Joh. Eph. Hist. eccl. 3.19.

Conclusion: Themes and Controversies

role played by bishops lead to some radical change in the nature of civil society as experienced in streets and squares at the heart of ancient cities? This is something I had intended to deal with relatively quickly, as it is not a major focus of this book. Furthermore, not all currents of late antique religious change relate to Christianity, nor were they necessarily concerned with civic expressions in public space. I have rather tried in this book to consider all aspects of public space for their own sake, as an anthropological portrait. Yet, as will become clear, a section on religion and public space has become inevitable. The debate to which I seek to contribute here has of course been conducted before, by others drawing on quite different material. It will greatly help the reader to consult Liebeschuetz’s chapter on Bishops in his Decline and Fall or Rapp’s Holy Bishops to provide background. Both works provide an overview of the rise of bishops to become civic leaders and the heads of city councils in the East. Major works have also been published in both French and German, which can be accessed via the literature review of Rapp, with Claude Die byzantinische Stadte and Heinzelmann Bischofsherrschaft in Gallien being among the most important.66 The emergence of the bishop as a civic leader was not a uniform process, with those in Italy having relatively little prominence away from the major centres of Rome, Milan, and Ravenna.67 However, outside Italy, the evidence for their activity is strong. Unfortunately, a general overview of the development of urban Christianity across the late antique world as a whole is not easy to obtain, although it is at a regional level.68 What I have to say myself is not inspired by any grand theories of laicité or legally based statements on civic participation. Rather, it is a judgement based on regulatory practice and the reality of everyday life, making only limited use of legal texts, to which insights from other areas of late antique life have been added, in a less systematic manner. Yet, to present this evidence in a purely thematic structure would be to fail to engage with interest in the topic prevalent in scholarly and popular works. So, from the evidence presented in this book, what can be said about the following questions: Did late antique Christianity overwhelm the classical city by any active 66  Major works on bishops and civic government: Liebeschuetz (2001); Rapp (2005); Claude (1969) 106–61; Heinzelmann (1976). 67  Bishops in Italy: Izdebski (2012). 68  Duval never wrote a grand synthesis on the spread of church buildings in the city for the whole empire, but the volumes of the 1986 Christian Archaeology congress that he edited in 1991 are a great starting point and, regionally, churches are well synthesised, as bibliography suggested by Lavan (2007) 169–80 and Gwynn (2010) 32–48 demonstrates.

453 process? Did it critique and encourage the decline of traditional urban institutions? Conquer them? Become absorbed by them? Coexist alongside them? Or engage with them in some unanticipated manner? I will carry out an evaluation of these competing hypotheses on Christianisation, inspired by the relatively limited data that I have gathered on public space, joined to sources highlighted by others on different subjects. This involves a ‘grab’ into knowledge which I have assimilated rather than trawled for. It is a difficult exercise, risking over-simplification and lacunae. Worse, the concepts we may wish to use in this discussion, such as ʻtolerance / intoleranceʼ can mean little in ancient terms. Religious and political bias is even more of a risk than usual. Of course, I do not believe my own conclusion to be entirely free of bias. Even if I were to achieve objectivity in terms of approach, my own data set would, make any natural scientist laugh out loud, in terms of its size and consistency. I merely wish to suggest what perspectives the facts presented in my book seem to support, on one side or other of different arguments. That said, I do believe that the data which I have assembled on public spaces of cities is stronger than anything else presented to date, and that this permits some use of quantitative arguments, for a judgement on the ‘big picture’. Ultimately, I would be content if my conclusions are lost but something of my method remains. But whilst debates on methodology over ceramics and inscriptions are generally careful and consensual, those at a higher level of historical inference often show a disinclination to rigour, as priority is given to producing attentiongrabbing prose and sharp-edged conclusions that prove something new. It is unlikely that such debates will ever be conducted according to agreed standards of inference. So, there is nothing to be done, except to plunge in and examine some of the alternatives which might define the impact of Christianity on civic life in the late antique period. Conflict? So, what of ‘Conflict between the City and the Church’? Did the Church engage in a perpetual critique of urban civilisation, so that its values were presented as antithetical to those of the ruling elites who had created the architecture and urban rituals of previous centuries? Obviously, we have several episcopal critiques of theatrical entertainments, some criticisms of festival merry-making, and a few texts, for Africa, which criticise the vainglorious benefactions of city councillors, all activities expressed in public space.69 Chrysostom is also 69  Christian critiques of entertainments: Waszink (1947); Jürgens (1972); Webb (2008). Not mainstream Christian view: Lim

454 particularly thorough in criticising the processions of the wealthy and powerful in streets, although in doing this he seems to be following a line of social criticism made by pagan Antiochenes, including Libanius and Ammianus. Some ecclesiastical writers also saw the street as a place of loose morals and potential entrapment. Yet, we can also cite more appreciative statements on civic life by bishops. Basil saw both Church and the civil authorities of Caesarea as reflecting the health of a city, which could be measured from their contributions to its monuments, whilst Synesius recognised provincial governors as playing a complementary role to bishops in the sphere of justice, even as he resisted perceived abuses, such as the disfigurement of the agora with judicial torture.70 Indeed, no remarks of 4th-6th c. bishops that I am aware of give any sense of disapproval of urban administration per se, except perhaps in Chrysostom’s comment that, in his time, there were too many agorai being built and not enough churches. Elsewhere, it is clear that he regards the agora as essential for a city, an attitude also reflected in the writings of Synesius. It is possible to build up a small dossier of ʻconflictʼ, between episcopal and civil authority, but this too needs to be nuanced. Under Anastasius, we find a bishop in dispute with a governor over the distribution of the city’s oil lamps at Edessa, contrasting with another bishop, around the same time, at Gaza, who is praised for carrying out routine maintenance on colonnaded streets, work that would earlier have fallen to the city council. One can find a few bishops who were prepared to reject classical learning, or ordinary Christians prepared to criticise the teaching of pagan mythology in school. But given Christian uptake of rhetoric, literary devices, and poetry, the hope of most was, if anything, for educational reform rather than for a Culture War. This might seem surprising given New Testament injunctions to give up everything that does not lead to God. But it was a tension present in Christianity since the days of Paul, which evenly divided major Church thinkers, many of whom sought to retain old system, with quite minor caveats. Christian parents, in the East at least, thought their children could manage to absorb the benefits of classical learning without losing their faith. Indeed, the chronology of school development in Late Antiquity shows that the eventual end of secular schools had nothing to do with Christianisation. Rather, it was part (1997). Criticisms of festival merry-making: see chapter on processions, for Kalends and Lupercalia. Critique of vainglory of city councillors, in Africa: Lepelley (1979) 376–81. 70  Secular civic life and law court of provincial governor approved of by bishops: Basil Ep. 94; Syn. Ep. 121. Torture of agora, buildings disfigured by it: Ep. 41 and 57.

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of the 7th c. crisis in the eastern empire.71 One might be tempted to see schools, as outposts of paideia, diametrically opposed to the ʻtotalisingʼ view of Christianity. In this way of thinking, one notes that Choricius praised the mimes just as Procopius pointed to Fortune, so making both cryptopagans. But this is a quite forced reading of individual texts. Elsewhere, we know there are many cases of Christians writing in classical genres. Choricius was a former classmate of bishop Marcian, and close to the governor Stephanus, who built churches as well as rebuilding a theatre at Gaza.72 The new cultural settlement is visible in the articulation of churches with public space. Some churches and episcopia did have monumental entrances directly from the street, as at Justiniana Prima, Philippi, and Gerasa, but they were highly integrated, set with or inside the portico. In the writings of Choricius, the bishop of Gaza’s churches sat harmoniously within the great avenues which the prelate had restored; the great festivals of local saints animated both. Apamea’s episcopium had great steps onto the street but its entrance actually opened from inside the back wall of the portico, not in front of it.73 It seems that Basil’s vision of the city, glorified by both ecclesiastical and secular efforts, here reached a point of synthesis, as the bishop accepted a role in the most mundane matters of urban government, building on those many tasks which Augustine had considered a distraction from the real ministry of the clergy. For Gregory I, at the end of our period, these things were to be undertaken only out of compassion for the needs of one’s flock, not out of affection for a worldly role, and were considered as a source of unspiritual diversion.74 Christianity should not necessarily be seen as a foreign element to the city: the Church developed within the Roman world, and ultimately was its most enduring urban institution. Christian critiques of city habits can be set amongst those of earlier social commentators, in which familiar customs were both examined and debated. The monastic life ceased to be a radical proposal fit for all Christians as early as the start of the 5th c. but urban Christianity continued to develop long after. 71  End of secular schools in the East: Mango (1980) 136f; Moffatt (1977) 85–92. 72  Marcian as classmate of Choricius: Litsas (1980) 67 (with references not seen by me) and 238, with Or. 1.6 for education. Proconsul Stephanus: Choricius Or. 3.55 (summer theatre), 3.30–31 (work on churches) (Greek not seen in either case). Procopius on fortune and Choricius as a pagan: see n.143. 73  Gaza’s churches within the great avenues: Choricius Or. 1.17. Bishop restoring avenues: Choricius Or. 8.52. Church festivals in public space: Choricius Or. 1.83–94, 2.66–75. On Bishop Marcian, see Hevelone-Harper (2005) 112–18. 74  Distractions of a clergyman: August. Ep. 209.10; Greg. Regula Pastoralis 2.7.111–18 (not seen).

Conclusion: Themes and Controversies

Conquest? What of the ‘Conquest by the Church of the City’? Pope Gregory famously recommended the conversion of pagan sanctuaries in England into churches, and the replacement of festivals by Christian holidays which imitated them.75 Although coming at the very end of the 6th c., this advice might seem to be part of an organised strategy of displacement, as if the Church sought to take over cultural institutions to capture residual power, rather than prevent conflict. If so, one would expect this to have affected political buildings and civic monumental art, as well as temples. It is only possible to make a case for something like this in very few cities. The conversion into churches of bouleuteria at Selge and Sagalassos could be depicted as an aggressive power grab, displacing the city council. Yet, this process is not attested outside this small region of Pisidia / northern Pamphylia. Furthermore, the dating of these cases is unsafe. At Selge, the date is undefined. At Sagalassos, it is now 6th c., not later 4th c. Rather, the council chamber stood empty as a ruin for 200 years or so, before becoming a church. The bouleuterion was actually spoliated for a fortification as early as the end of the 4th c. Acclamatory inscriptions in the nearby odeon suggests political meeting had moved here. Therefore, we have very slender grounds for investing these sites with significance. Conversions of civil basilicas into churches are almost as rare, if less unremarkable, given their similar form to new-built church buildings. In contrast, the conversion of civic political buildings into non-religious functions is easily overlooked. This was just as significant to institutional change, as any transfer to ecclesiastical use. Churches were, in truth, built in a variety of settings, inside empty gymnasia and stadia, as much as in agorai. As others have pointed out, there seems to have been no rush to build inside temples, which were often deliberately preserved, a revelation from archaeology that has overturned impressions gained from imperial laws.76 Evidence of image iconoclasm has attracted much attention. However, a lot of it is too late or too feeble, when studied as part of statue treatment as a whole rather than as rare cases that fit our preconceptions. 75   Pagan sanctuaries into Churches, recommendation: Bede Historia ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum 1.30. 76   Churches built inside empty gymnasia / bath buildings: Aizanoi: LL site observation 2003; Hierapolis (bath building): Karydis (2011) 18–20; Churches in stadia: Sagalassos: Vanderput (1993) 93–107. Churches in other entertainment buildings, rare, only linked to martyrial memories in a few cases: Bowes (2014). Churches in the Library of Hadrian, Athens: Karivieri (1994) 102–13. Churches built inside temples, chronology: Bayliss (2004) 32–49, 50–57, 107–20, 126–29, 144– 45 figs. 4–5. For an example of churches built evenly across an ancient city, in a variety of buildings, one in a temple, Knidos: see Bruns-Özgan (2002) 39–57 with site map.

455 This statement even characterises the learned and subtle discussion of Kristensen Making and Breaking the Gods (2013). The book is still chasing very few archaeological cases of iconoclasm, largely fitted around textual sources, with little exploration of the typical fate of statues. We do not often find archaeological correlations of the kind of image-smashing beloved of some 6th c. hagiographies. This certainly can be attested by excavation of pagan sanctuaries in a few cases: at the sanctuary of ‘Allat in Palmyra, and of Hercules at Messene, where image mutilation is in both cases dated within the later 4th c., on the evidence of coins. Here, cult statues are targeted even if crosses, or other Christian graffiti are absent. These mutilations are convincing in their details.77 So too are those found out of context which have distinctive mutilations that can be related to “nuanced and specifically cultural responses to images”, as Kristensen notes (p.158). They give us striking illustrations for books, but were they typical? There are not many of them and some may be later.78 We know that cult statues were left in situ in Late Antiquity or moved to serve as works of art. A quantitative approach is needed. The LSA database only furnishes 4 new-cut divine images (LSA 1596, 2365, 2538, 2583), none of which are mutilated, although 2 anodyne personifications have lost their upper parts). It is a pity that such a thorough project did not take a site-based approach to studying all statuary, new and old, within Late Antiquity, which could have produced figures on statue treatment. At Cyrene, the sanctuary of Demeter and Persephone does allow quantification: Kristensen shows that mutilation affects 18 out of 54 statues recovered, but here the sanctuary was abandoned in the 3rd c., and the iconoclasm later, depriving the these acts of much of their charge. The decapitation of imperial cult images at Narona, might be an act of war as much as of religion: would it not also be profitable to explore Christian statue damage in terms of existing patterns of political damnatio?.79 So, we are at the beginning of these debates, as far as archaeology is concerned. The overall impression one gets from Kristensen is that sanctuaries in Greece and Egypt did see some acts of religious-motivated destruction. It is far from clear that this was typical elsewhere, and such iconoclasm can be later (as at Deir el-Medina) or far earlier (as in the southern Levant) as Kristensen admits.80 But it is critical to balance evidence from temples with 77  Image iconoclasm in temples, of ‘Allat in Palmyra: Kristensen (2013) 211–218; of Hercules at Messene: 89–90. 78  A statue found in a pottery kiln of 9th c. date at Abu Mina, is not helpful here: pp. 131–132. 79  Image iconoclasm in temples, at Cyrene, pp. 102–104, at Narona pp. 70–71. 80  Image iconoclasm after Late Antiquity, Deir el-Medina: p. 165. Before Late Antiquity, southern Levant: p. 202.

456 that from public spaces, where images were displayed or re-displayed in streets and squares. These may tell us more about the nature of late antique civic society and its attitude to pagan art. A weakness in Kristensen’s otherwise stimulating study, where he has covered in detail statue treatment in Egypt and the Levant, is that he has not looked much at the streets and squares of Asia Minor and elsewhere, where this record survives.81 I have only been able to point to the rarity of traditional religious images on civic plazas outside Africa. This suggests to me that some pagan images, erected primarily as honours to the gods, were removed during the 5th c. in regions where the end of the forum / agora was not so rapid. But this is a guess. Rather, in public space, we have plenty of evidence of the preservation of images, especially in reliefs, or the reuse of cult statues as secularised works of art. In nymphaea (e.g. Ephesus and Sagalassos) and bath buildings (Perge and Salamis), we see the cutting away of genitals without any damage to noses. This was apparently a later 5th to 6th c. phenomenon, and was not accompanied by a general ban on statue nudity.82 The (very rare) placing of crosses on the foreheads of statues in public space is perhaps best related to earthquake protection, rather than to exorcism. Cross monuments, set on columns, undoubtedly made an ʻidentitarianʼ impact on Jews and Muslims, who might wish to remove them. But these monuments appeared very late, in the 6th or 7th c., and they seem to have been uncommon. The appearance of crosses within wider decorative schemes, in the later 5th-6th c., is something rather different. We see this on the tetrastylon at Ephesus, or on the parapets of nymphaea in the same city, or on the capitals of new arches at Anazarbos. But here, Christian symbols still play a decorative and often supporting role, rather than being monuments in their own right. At the sanctuary gate of ‘Qalat Seman, crosses are absent. The presence of icons of Christ above gates at Rome, Constantinople, and Antioch is significant, as this was a place that exhibited the ruler of the city, just as pagan images came off some arches, as Ephesus and Aphrodisias, likely for the same reasons, but we cannot say this was widespread. Temple destructions can of course be organised into a catalogue, from this book or from wider evidence, to illustrate the laws against temples in the Theodosian 81  Kristensen is aware of the limited nature of iconoclasm outside of temples for Egypt, such as for royal tombs (p. 167), but he only briefly mentions the non-iconoclastic redisplay of cult statues as works of art at Scythopolis in the Eastern Baths, where limited iconoclasm seems to have happened after the abandonment of the complex in the 6th c.: p. 224. 82  Statue modification in bath buildings at Perge and Salamis: Kristensen (2013) 225–26.

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Code. There is undoubtedly some historical reality in them: what of bishop Eleusius of Cyzicus, who Sozomen has expelled by Julian for his destruction of temples?83 But the small quantity of archaeological evidence, its date (which is generally too late), and trends in other areas, leads one in a different direction. So often, the decline of temple paganism did not come quickly, but was very slow, beginning in the 2nd c. Changes to pagan sacred buildings often relate to pragmatic choices after disasters, rather than any active programme of demolition. A major change did come in the 390s, with the closure of sanctuaries, but this often came after a long decline in which urban temple paganism had lost its way. Imperial law likely had a decisive impact on the fate of paganism in only a few regions. Christianity often spread by very different processes, with different chronologies. If one looks specifically at Christianisation, rather than at the end of temples, the priorities of the Church seem quite different: building up their own cult centres on their own terms, initially away from city centres, and always turned away from them architecturally, rarely seeking the central place that temple religion had provided in the political life of Greek and Roman cities. The small size of bishops’ residences initially reflected this. But even in the 6th c., we can only talk about episcopia as being the largest residences in cities where investment in houses had come to a stop. At Constantinople, the episcopal palace was a rather small affair, a modest residence stuck onto the side of the Great Church of Justinian: in the presence of strong secular power there was no need for the bishop to assume a more visible public role.84 Competition in public ritual did take place between different denominations within Christianity, (initially) between Christian and heretics outside of the church, and sometimes between Christians and Jews. This was manifested in short periods of conflict in processions, usually resulting in Christian dominance, which might be considered ‘conquest’. In comparison, competition between Christians and pagans seems weaker. It is possible that pagan devotional processions had faded in most places before anyone enforced a ban. Festival processions were a different matter, and there were instances of conflict with church authorities. But one should not imagine this resulted in successful conquest, no matter what happened to the Lupercalia. Overall, ecclesiastical critiques of traditional festival processions were not very 83  Temple destructions at Cyzicus: Soz. Hist eccl. 5.15 (seen as PG67.1256). 84  On episcopia, see Marano (2007), Ceylan (2007), and Baldini Lippolis (2005), with Dark and Kostenec (2019) 115–30 on Constantinople.

Conclusion: Themes and Controversies

effective, as many Christians felt that such celebrations were an uncontroversial part of their cultural inheritance.85 In contrast, Jewish street festivals seem to have come to an end. However, there were regions where Jews and Christians coexisted strongly, where synagogues continued to be built in the centre of cities. Synagogues could even be seen as part of civic monumentality, recognised by a street porch and a distinctive portico mosaic at Sardis. That at Andriake, which lasted from the 5th c. to the end of Antiquity was prominently set, close to churches. Such arrangements were deep rooted: a synagogue at Sardis was provided with a civic fountain as early as the 2nd c. A.D., in a list of fountains of the city, alongside other public buildings. Nothing that happened in the 4th to 6th c. seems to have changed this, in western Asia Minor at least. This evidence does not negate the impact of cases of synagogue burning nor the occasional conversion of synagogues into churches, both of which could be severe in some regions. It simply complicates the picture. Respect could be manifested in the other direction: Jews and pagans attended the funerals of prominent Christians, just as some Christians might attend synagogues. At Sardis and Philadelphia, it seems, some paid for small-scale building works there.86 The reality of intercommunal relations was, in many places, co-existence and a degree of civic participation, not subjugation through conquest. That is not to say we should ignore areas of real communal tension known from texts, as between Samaritans and outsiders in 6th c. Palestine.87 Neither should we imagine that relationships could not change for the worse in some places. Five cities within Gaul and Italy saw synagogues confiscated or burned in the period 576–604, in what looks like a trend, contested by Pope Gregory. In Syria, pagans at Heliopolis and Edessa faced a determined campaign of persecution under Justin II, 85  Festival attendance by Christians: see chapter on processions. For Choricius Or. 64 (edn. of R. Foerster and E. Richtsteig, Choricii Gazaei Opera (Leipzig 1929)) on the mimes and Jacob of Serug’s homilies against them see Bowersock (2006) 59–63; Webb (2008) 58–94 with edn. of the latter in Moss (1935). 86  Andriake synagogue: Çevik, Çömezoğlu, Öztürk, and Türkoğlu (2010). Mosaic inscription recording vow of comes Paulos, a Christian name, in synagogue at Sardis, doubtless paying for the mosaic: Kroll (2001) 18–19, no. 5. Donors of a basin to synagogues with Christian names at Philadelphia: references in Chaniotis (2002a) 231, which I was unable to chase. Christian names amongst god-fearers supporting synagogue at Aphrodisias, in inscription now considered late antique: Chaniotis (2002a) 231. We cannot be sure if these people were also practicing Christians but it cannot be excluded. 87  Communal tension, as between Samaritans and outsiders in Palestine, ca. 570, when Samaritans will not touch items touched by Christians, even coins, and burn their footprints with hay: Itinerarium Antonini Placentini 8 (Latin not seen).

457 that was bloody.88 But we need a sense of perspective, that draws on a broader range of evidence, with space for some cities where civic life was more pluralistic, even sleepy, than it was in others. When nothing much happened, it is worth noting. We need to move beyond collecting florilegia of patristic statements that support only conflict. Admittedly, active advocates of religious tolerance were rare amongst late antique Christian writers. The voices of Tertullian, Arnobius, and Lactantius in the 3rd to early 4th c., who had made such a case, found no later counterparts. Once persecution of the Church ceased and hegemony became possible, such sentiments were muted. Nonetheless, Socrates, Salvian, and later Gregory the Great, offered some acceptance of the beliefs of others, and their ability to practice their rituals.89 There were also churchmen who had friendships with people of other religions, from the 4th to the 6th c., from Jerome to Masona of Emerita and Gregory of Antioch.90 Such attitudes may have supported and reflected the character of urban public space. It is important to address all of these issues in comparative terms, by looking at what happened before and after the period. Forced conversion and massacres of Jews and others, although seen in other times, were not characteristics of Late Antiquity. An exception could be made of the 6th c. Levant, where tensions were sometimes great and occasionally boiled over into revolt. Rather, these were behaviours that came to prominence in later Germanic Europe and in the East of the 7th c. Within Late Antiquity, prior to the reign of Heraclius, identitarian massacres were carried out against barbarian federates and building-burning was commonest for the houses of unpopular officials. I do not extend these remarks into the middle decades of the 7th c. At this time, pressure on Jews saw a palpable rise, in territories controlled by Constantinople. This extended to a policy of forced baptism, resisted by Maximus the Confessor, if not by all churchmen.91 But within the 88  Pagans at Heliopolis and Edessa persecuted under Justin II: Joh. Eph. Hist. eccl. 3.26–3.34. 89  On Tertullian, Arnobius and Lactantiusʼ views on religious freedom: see Kahlos (2009) and earlier articles by Garnsey (1984), DePalma Digeser (1998), and Stroumsa (1998) 172–84. On Salvian and Gregory: see also Streeter (2006). For an overview of recent perspectives on these issues: see Marcos (2016). 90  Prominent Christians friendly with members of other religions: Jerome Ep. 3.3 or (more likely) Praef in Job 1. (taught by Jewish rabbi); Masona of Emerita (bishop 570–602): V. SS. Patr. Emerit. 1.19–20; Gregory of Antioch: Evagrius Hist. eccl. 5.18. 91  Pogroms against barbarian federates: Goths after Adrianople: Amm. Marc. 31.16.6; families of supporters of Radagaisus: Zos. 5.35.5 (women and children); supporters of Gainas: Socrates Hist. eccl. 6.6 (near church of Goths, within the walls of Cple); Soz. Hist. eccl. 8.4 (church burned, seemingly with Goths

458 4th–6th c., lay Christians, and even most clergy, were not set on a course of extermination with their pagan and Jewish neighbours. Furthermore, active persecution was not at the level that it was in the Later Medieval period nor in Reformation Europe. Judicial penalties were less severe for religious variation, until the later 6th c.92 Despite laws threatening death for sacrifice, pagans do not seem to have been arrested, away from the episodic machinations of the imperial court and its treason trials. Legalised discrimination was likely far more of a problem. Extra-judicial attack was another matter, but it is far from clear that this was frequent, away from notable moments of conflict. We also need to use a comparative perspective to understand the treatment of any one group. On the testimony of archaeology, pressure on Jews seems to have been stronger than that on pagans, with a greater proportion of their sacred buildings being converted into churches. Even if some churchmen clearly wished to be rid of Jews and pagans, they did not often manage to achieve this. The evidence of entertainment buildings in Asia Minor and the Levant even suggests that Jews retained a significant political influence as a group, in late antique cities, whilst pagans did not. Indeed, a major historian of antisemitism, Simon, was unconvinced that there were more anti-Jewish pogroms in Late Antiquity than earlier and pointed to the deep roots of Roman hostility. But he did see more widespread discrimination.93 In fact, the most frequent religious violence seems not to inside); Zos. 5.19.4–5 (church near the palace burned with people inside, abominable crime to some Christians). Burning of houses / praetoria of unpopular officials: Rome: Amm. Marc. 14.7.6., 27.3.4, 27.3.8; Antioch: Lib. Or. 22.9; Caesarea Palestinae: Malalas 18.119 (attack on praetorium, not burning); Thessalonica: Malchus, frag 18 (FGH 4.125); Antioch: Malalas 16.6; Constantinople: Malalas 18.71, 18.135. Anti-semitism and forced baptism in the 7th: Déroche and Dagron (1991). Forced baptism before the 7th c.: Bradbury (1996) (on Minorca, A.D. 418). 92  Judicial penalties less severe: Gaddis (2005) 100 notes near absence of formal judicial execution, although followers of dissident bishops could expect rough treatment by soldiers, even death, as when buildings were being seized. When the Donatists attacked catholic churches in early 5th c. Africa, Augustine supported flogging, exile, and imprisonment, but not killing: see Chadwick (1986) 85–86. Opposition to executing heretic Priscillian on charges of magic in A.D. 385: Pope Siricius (excommunicated the bishop pressing charges): Coll. Avell. 40; Martin of Tours: Sulpicius Severus Chron. 2.50.4–6; Ambrose: Ep. 30(24).12. Of course, the treatment of Manicheans was very grim, but present earlier, so I will not consider it here. It does not fit with any idea of toleration, at a State level at least. 93  Antisemitism a continuation of earlier attitudes: Simon (1991) 131–32, noting on p. 156 that pogroms not more common but discrimination more widespread.

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be between Christians and non-Christians but between different Christian groups in major cities. That is not to say it was common, nor that it always had confessional roots.94 Earlier patterns of urban violence relating to patrons or collegia (in part originally religious organisations) also need to be considered, as do continuing patterns of non-religious violence in Late Antiquity. We need to know not only the potential of religious rhetoric for conflict but what the patterns of actual violence were and to what extent they really were new. Coexistence and tolerance certainly had its limits in the period, but so did intolerance and persecution. This may seem a slight nuance, but it must be recognised that the history of public space tells a distinct, more open story of the civil society of Late Antiquity, than do the legal codices or the Ecclesiastical Histories. Its testimony does not always fit a simple tale of Christianisation by coercion, nor one of ‘conquest’. Absorption? If the Church accepted a reformed city, within the 4th-6th c., rather than seeking to build a new one, did Christianity become absorbed by the glories of the classical polis? Does public space attest to a cultural capitulation by the Church, in which it accepted the need to grow within urban society by lowering its standards? Did the embrace of what was old rob the new religion of initiative and strength, with so many incomers, once Constantine gave it his blessing? This was a popular perspective once, when Chadwick described the Church as undergoing a transition from a ‘Society of Saints’ to a ‘School for Sinners’.95 It seems easy to envisage the attraction of religious conversion to aristocrats beguiled by the power of the episcopate. However, Rapp has recently pointed to significant continuity in episcopal office and a scholarly tendency to exaggerate the significance of the reign of Constantine, in terms of both the status / wealth of clergy and in terms of the basis of their authority.96 Amongst the congregation, Rebillard, for Africa, has also effectively minimised change, seeing Christians in the 3rd, 4th, and 5th c. as having multiple identities, aside from their Christian identity. He contends that throughout these three centuries, lay Christians lived a life of 94   Conflict between Christians, North Africa: Lander (2016) 119–75 (56 pages) vs Christian and Pagan 176–215 (39 pages), vs Christian and Jewish 215–36 (21 pages, little evidence). See also Shaw (2011). Monophysites and Chalcedonians in the East: Liebeschuetz (2001) 156–60. Riots lacking clear confessional roots, Constantinople (crowds crushed): Socrates Hist. eccl. 2.16; riot started by moving of sarcophagus of Constantine at Church of Holy Apostles: Socrates Hist. eccl. 2.38. 95  Church as “school for sinners”: Chadwick (2001) 692. 96  Bishops and the impact of the reign of Constantine: Rapp (2005) 6–8, 172–207, esp. 172–78.

Conclusion: Themes and Controversies

compromise, in which they did not employ their faith as their first priority in social action, leaving such convictions to bishops and monks. In this model, Christianity was not so much absorbed as deflected by urban culture, being one of many private matters.97 To me, Rebillard’s views, although well-illustrated by the texts he uses, are uncomfortably close to contemporary ideals of French Laicité, and I find this reading of ancient sources rather selective. There are grounds for believing that a considerable number of Christians maintained a high level of commitment despite having complex interactions between faith and culture. A great part of the sermons of Chrysostom and other preachers concerns moral questions which were not always confessionally distinctive, but which Christian teaching insisted should be brought to greater prominence. Furthermore, the sermons of Chrysostom or the remarks of Augustine, sometimes reveal pious lay people outside the clergy, from whose families the clergy themselves sprang, who needed correcting: not always for being insufficiently committed, but sometimes for being overenthusiastic, or misguided in their devotional practices. Thus, we find pious people clapping in church, leaving porridge out for the saints, praying to angels at nymphaea, and visiting synagogues to swear oaths and listen to the liturgy, because it was ʻmore holyʼ.98 Churches probably always contained 97  Multiple identities of Christians: Rebillard (2012), with no change in frequency of use of Christian identity between the 2nd c. to middle of the 5th c. on p. 96. Strategic religious identities at Antioch: Sandwell (2007); Allen and Mayer (1993). 98   Sermons of Chrysostom and moral questions: Allen and Mayer (1993) 264–67. Clapping in church: see chapter on agorai in 6th c. Cakes bread and wine for the saints, an African custom, forbidden by church doorkeeper in Milan: Aug. Conf. 6.2 (pultes et panem et merum). Praying to angels at nymphaea: see chapter on street architecture. Visiting the synagogue to swear oaths and attending synagogue liturgy: see Levine (1995) 293–95, drawing on Chrysostom’s sermons on Judaising Christians, on which see Sandwell (2007) plus Harkins (1979). On Jews and Christians interacting and overlapping in Galillee see also Hakola (2016). Accepting donations from ‘Godfearers’ (non-Jewish people) from inscriptions at Aphrodisias and Sardis: Chaniotis (2002a) on the former (with some Christian names) and Kroll (2001) on the latter esp. 8–10 (with many non-Jewish names). I do not think we necessarily need to see these as people who became Jewish: at Aphrodisias they are distinct to proselytes (68 Jews, 3 proseletes, 54 Godfearers). Neither do we need to follow Chaniotis (p. 229) and attribute the success of Jewish community at Aphrodisias to the presence of a strong pagan community here, of which I can see little archaeological or epigraphic evidence. It is a supposition based on few texts relating to education. Rather, the odeon seats for Jews (later 5th to early 7th c.) and the juxtaposition of crosses and menorahs at the Sebasteion show a high degree of unconflictual interaction between Christian and Jews. I would suggest that Jewish communities in Asia Minor had long been

459 such committed lay people, as well as those with lesser degrees of commitment, both before and after the time of Constantine. There may have been some who felt that their spiritual path was to imitate the social engagement of Christ in the Gospels, in parties, crowds, and mixed friendships, rather than the ascetic attributes of John the Baptist, on its edge of society, in a land of locusts and wild honey. Augustine’s account of Monica’s social interactions suggest such a life was not necessarily devoid of spiritual intent. A range of interactions between faith and culture were at least possible. Within Christian sacred buildings, we can at least see in the critiques of Chrysostom, Caesarius, and others, ideals of how one ought to behave in a church, a continuing belief in upholding the sanctity of the place in the face of the world, a desire to resist the habits of houses, agorai, and theatres coming into the building. The distinctiveness of much figural decoration in church, and of invocations of other inscriptions of these places, suggests this conception was broadly upheld by the congregations concerned, despite episcopal complaints. But, after the early 5th c., we do not hear of penitents standing by the doors of the church, suggesting that the church was somewhat less demanding of its congregation. There is also an impression that, over time, the character of churches may have seen more political functions, such as the reading out of imperial letters. Churches certainly became the destination of patronal processions, with slaves and all. We know that this disrupted equality amongst believers, which many bishops wished to see in church. Probably only at Rome and Constantinople did secular power risk overwhelming the functioning of churches. Riotous assemblies and secular political acclamations in churches were seen in the Bosphoran capital, like nowhere else. But here, the religious activity inside churches was also intense, and major churches may simply have been a lot busier. Here, one could say that Late Antiquity saw a definite period of ‘absorption’, but that it did not overwhelm the religious function of sacred space, which like much of the rest of the Church, retained strong links with practice prior to the time of Constantine. Within public space, the Church as an institution did change its practices, to a degree. The prominence of clergy in adventus ceremonies or the great monumental buildings of the Church, with their splendid fittings and opportunities for public patronage, represented something of an ‘absorption’ of Christianity into the wider culture of Roman cities. In some areas of life, this well-integrated, in contrast to parts of the Levant, and that this carried on in Late Antiquity, and that Christianisation made little or no difference to this.

460 happened very quickly, in the mid to later 4th c.; in other areas, it happened gradually. The clearest examples occur in imperial capitals. This was visible in the manner in which the most senior of bishops could appear in the street at Rome and Constantinople, in the testimony of both Ammianus and Gregory of Nyssa,99 and in which the monumental building of churches, where construction works take them beyond their function as meeting places. At Rome, Ravenna, and Constantinople, the portrait mosaics or inscriptions of donors seem almost to make churches groan, so heavy is the weight of elite patronage. Today, they provide perfect slides to support a reductionist lecture which claims to see the ‘realities of power’ behind cultural expressions of belief. But such overt patron-dominance does not seem to be a feature of metropoleis nor of ordinary cities. Thus, these images, from major centres of power, could be seen as misleading, if used to characterise the nature of urban Christianity elsewhere. Subscription building, involving the acknowledged donations of an entire community is also attested, as is episcopal construction, based on anonymous contributions mixed together by the Church. Such funding systems may have been displaced by elite patronage only in Rome, Milan, Ravenna, and Constantinople. One-donor patronage must surely have put a church’s clergy under a rich man’s thumb. Yet, in the provinces, how often did it replace anonymous giving, or giving by people of modest means, such as those recorded as giving a solidus or half a solidus to churches in Greece?100 The arrival of a major patron in a small city might have been as unusual as it was in Augustine’s Hippo, where it provoked disturbances, from those seeking favours.101 The episcopal oversight of civic affairs, from the mid-5th c., was an obvious place for ʻabsorptionʼ to take place. Rapp sees, by the time of Justinian, a shift in episcopal authority, from a model based on ascetic values towards more pragmatic authority, with an 99   Prominence of bishops in street of imperial capitals, Rome (Pope): Amm. Marc. 27.3.14 (riding in carriages). At Constantinople: Greg. Naz. Or. 42.24 (who criticises expectations of a procession rivalling consuls, governors, and generals). 100   Senatorial patronage of churches: Rome, Ravenna, and Constantinople: Ward-Perkins (1984) 236–24; Machado (forthcoming) chapter 5; Bardill (2006); Harrison (1989). Subscription building for churches: Caillet (1993) (not seen); Yasin (2009) (not seen). Narbonne: Marou (1970) 332–333 = CIL 12.5336 (large gifts). Aquileia: Caillet (1993). Kallion, Phocis (gifts of solidus and half solidus): Caraher (2003) Epigraphic Catalogue no. 43–44; Antikyra, Boeotia: (single solidus gift): Caraher (2003) Epigraphic Catalogue no. 16. Episcopal construction acts based on anonymous contributions: Caseau (2012). 101  Disturbances with arrival of patrons at Hippo: Aug. Ep. 124–26.

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institutionally-defined civic role.102 This development effectively placed public space under a bishopʼs control, via the council of notables he now chaired. The chronology of these changes matches the fiscal difficulties of the State in the mid-5th c., not the rise to public prominence of the Church, which happened 100 years earlier. Indeed, the responsibilities which bishops had from the 460s might potentially compromise a holy office: Gregory of Antioch’s hippodrome, at the end of the 6th c., was described as a ‘temple of Satan’ by his critics.103 I would be inclined to see episcopal involvement in civic affairs as ‘absorption’ rather than ‘conquest’. But the former interpretation has an obvious flaw. There was a network of bishops right across the urban horizon in most regions: every city recognised by the imperial administration had a bishop unless there was some local historical reason why it ought not to have one. However, in Late Antiquity, far from all of these bishoprics were viable poleis / civitates in the classical sense: communities which maintained political institutions with the monuments to go with them. Failed cities existed in Spain, Gaul, and Peninsular Italy from the 2nd or 3rd c., and in Asia Minor from the 4th c. Can we say that a place like Abila, in Arabia, with one new road and many churches was still a polis?104 Probably not. Such settlements lacked a resident elite and no longer maintained civic buildings but saw churches spread across them, nonetheless. Bishops were universally interested in churches and liturgy but were not universally interested in propping up the classical city. Thus, where we do have a bishop active in preserving aspects of the classical city, he seems to be accompanied by a whole class of notables, of whom he was their appointed leader, rather than their replacement. He became so by broadening his role and also by absorbing some of their priorities. Admittedly, there is one case of a bishop not only acting as a grisly secular ruler but also using the organisation of the Church to attain / reinforce political power. This is Bar Kayli of Amida. This bishop not only adopted the means of a provincial governor, by chastising his opponents through violence, but even used the charitable apparatus of the Church as a weapon, by sending his lepers 102  Change in basis of episcopal authority: Rapp (2005) esp. 274–89. 103  Hippodrome as temple of Satan, at Antioch: Joh. Eph. Hist. eccl. 5.17. 104  Failed civitates / poleis in Spain, Gaul, and Peninsular Italy: for Spain see forthcoming papers from the conference ¿Crisis urbana a finales del alto imperio? La evolución de los espacios cívicos en el Occidente romano en tiempos de cambio (s. II–IV d.C.) held in Cartagena in 2012; for Gaul: Ferdière (2004); for Italy (Cosa): Fentress (2004); for Asia Minor (Ariassos): Mitchell, Owens, and Waelkens (1989); Mitchell (1991); for Arabia (Abila): Stern (1993) vol. 1 1–3.

Conclusion: Themes and Controversies

into the houses of enemies to sleep in their beds and contaminate their food stores. This type of behaviour, though less extreme, is something we suspect earlier for Cyril of Alexandria, in that hot cauldron of a city. Here, the sick helpers became a key group involved in disruptive behaviour around the time of Hypatia’s death: they were banned from distinctly political settings: entertainment buildings, city council chambers, and law courts. Cyril’s dispute with Hypatia was over politics, not over a matter of faith nor over science. The bishop’s intervention was not the mild coercion of fellow Christians, as practiced by his predecessor Athanasius. It was fullon intervention in political life beyond the Church, in the manner of a secular ruler, as Socrates noted. To this church historian, it went beyond the bounds of acceptability. Bishops like Cyril were exceptions, who might scandalise contemporary Christians.105 One may wish to illustrate a work on religious violence with this evidence or related episodes from Alexandria, but they are not necessarily representative. We have also to remember that in this city and others some bishops ended up damaged or dead at the hands of urban mobs. In some cases, this might have been due to political provocation, but in 4th and early 7th c. Asia Minor we also see some bishops getting themselves into harm with vested interests because of their attempts to champion the poor.106 Did the civic responsibilities of bishops lead to the traditional values of public space seeping into church buildings? Some of the monumental trappings of public space were certainly absorbed within the architecture of churches. We do not have a sense that specific pagan sculptural forms were being brought inside Christian sacral buildings themselves. When nymphaea / fountains appear inside atria, their figural ornament is only recorded as being mosaics of lambs, crosses and palms (at Rome), or peacocks and crosses (at Philippi). Similarly, 105  Noted examples of bishops using church organisation to attain / reinforce political power: Bar Kayli of Amida: Chronicle of Zuqnin (61–62) A.D. 525–26; Cyril of Alexandria: Socrates Hist. eccl. 5.22, Suda (Damascius) ʻUpsilonʼ 166, John of Nikiu Chronicle 84.87–103 [to be used with caution as it was written in the 7th c. and translated from Arabic into Ethiopic]; Cod. Theod. 16.2.42.2 (A.D. 416). Cyril scandalising other Christians: Socrates Hist. eccl. 5.22. Bishops overstepping limits of ecclesiastical jurisdiction (at Alexandria and at Rome): Socrates Hist. eccl. 7.11. Hypatia dispute as political: Rougé (1990); Haas (1997) 302–16. On Anastasius of Alexandria using coercion within the Church: see P. Lond 6.1914. 106  Bishops killed e.g. in Cyzicus (under Justinian): Malalas 18.89; Procop. Anec. 17.41–45; in Antioch (Anastasius, early 7th c.): Chron. Pasc. Olympiad 347 (A.D. 610); in Alexandria (mid George 4th c., Proterius mid 5th c., Theodore early 7th c.): see processions chapter. Bishops in 4th and early 7th c. Asia Minor annoying vested interests on account of the poor: Basil Ep. 94; Julian Ep. 22; VTheod. Syk. 76.

461 the porch sculpture of Theodosian Hagia Sophia was entirely Christian in inspiration. Inside churches, the main images displayed on the walls, from 3rd c. Dura Europos, to 5th c. Rome, to 6th c. Stobi and Gaza, and 7th c. Rome, are those of the old and new testament.107 The Near East does, however, present an exception: pagan mythological stories, including nude figures of Aphrodite or Achilles and Patroclus (with the exposed penises), appeared on the mosaic floors of Levantine churches in the 6th to 8th c. In this instance, classical culture was strong enough to maintain its existing canons of iconography without Christianisation.108 It is surprising to find these images in churches, although it is hard to see what, if any, synthesis of ideas was being attempted. There is no attempt at syncretic overlap, nor at allegory here. One suspects that regional traditions of floor decoration were taking on a strength of their own and were somehow disconnected from the liturgy that took place above them. These mosaics do at least show us some penetration of classical urban culture, even if its absorption appears to have been passive. If one looks for ‘absorption’ in the other direction, from churches into streets and agorai, one is again confronted by difficulty. There seems to have been little attempt to introduce a Christian sense into the re-display of mythological statuary, as one might imagine from reading Eusebius. Rather, such statues seem to be secularised as public ornaments and have had an antiquarian value. There are no credible examples of public statue displays with Christian themes, no bishop is given an honorific statue, and only one single patron is honoured for church related activities with a civic statue (LSA 657, 1200–1202, from Stratonicea in Caria), amongst thousands of bases. This is surprising, as we hear of Christian reinterpretations of pagan myth into stories that anticipated Christian teaching. Some scholars would read such allegories into the mosaic floors of western villas featuring Pegasus and the Chimera and other moral tales.109 There is little evidence of such reinterpretation within the public space of cities, though bishop Ennodius of Pavia regretted the profanation of a statue of Aphrodite in the early 6th c. on account of her virtues, whilst Pegasus appears tantalisingly, on a 6th c. column capital from the Hippodrome of Constantinople. Rather, the representation in sculpture of unaltered pagan political 107  Scenes depicted on walls of churches: summarised by undergraduate dissertation of Gómez Contreras (2018). 108   Pagan mythological stories in Levantine church mosaics: Bowersock (2006). 109  Christian reinterpretations of pagan myth: Liebeschuetz (1995) and (2001) chapters 7 and 10. Liebeschuetz (1995). Myths, possibly Christianising, on villa mosaics in Africa: Lepelley (2010); in Britain: Henig (1986) (not seen); (1995) 155–56; and (1997).

462 origin myths even took place under Constantine and his Christian sons. This can be seen in the ‘Judgement of Paris’ group in Constantinople, and in the ornament on the ‘Arch of Janus’ in Rome. Whilst these sculptures were the last examples of such artwork, they were left in situ, as part of the imperial art of the State, for all Late Antiquity. The presence of a few crosses, at the start of inscriptions or on a statue or two, did not fundamentally Christianise the message of art in public space. Neither did the very rare sight of an imperial statue holding a cross.110 What we have is a long period of secularised classical culture, celebrated in the streets and squares of late antique cities, in which pagans might find some residual comfort, if not validation. The urban landscapes which they knew and valued had been modified but not altogether lost. Stories could still be told about the past here. This was a cultural settlement that Synesius would have been happy with, Choricius certainly. Perhaps Themistius, Libanius, and even Eunapius could have accepted it in time. From the West, such developments are difficult to trace, due to early decay of civic centres in the 5th c. In Africa, a single example of civic building from the ‘Vandal period’ (at Thibilis) shows only tentative Christianisation: the inscription is accompanied by Christian symbols (palm branch and Chi-Rho) but still evokes the nymphs at the beginning of the text, and might have featured representations of them elsewhere within the monument. Overall, ‘absorption’ / ‘cultural capitulation’ does seem to have been a part of Church / City relations in Late Antiquity but not without nuances. Influences went in two directions. Furthermore, city fathers, even under a bishop, did not undertake a comprehensive Christianisation of their public space. Most Christian leaders in this period also had other things on their mind: a different set of internal priorities. This, as we will see, is obvious from the evidence of late antique public space, just as it is from other sources. Passive Coexistence? Not all Christians could accept the cultural settlement that had emerged by the 6th c. The crowds in the street at Antioch in 588 did not want a synthesis of classical civilisation and Christianity. Of their cultivated Patriarch Gregory, friends with a man accused of paganism, they shouted: ‘to the fire with this man: let the city have a Christian patriarch’.111 Indeed, the radical party within Christianity never entirely went away, encouraged per110  Minerva: Ennod. Carm. no. 278. Statue of Constantine holding a cross, Edessa: Chronicle of Joshua Stylites 27 (A.D. 495 / 496). 111  Demonstrations at Antioch, in street (as recorded by an opponent of Gregory): Joh. Eph. Hist. eccl. 3.5.17. On Gregory see also Lee (2007).

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haps by a growing desire to recruit bishops as holy heroes drawn from monastic life. This counteracted the tendency of congregations to promote civic patriots of high standing. The latter might seek to juggle their identities, adopting different styles of writing or different social rituals: but it is notable that both Synesius and Sidonius, despite being secular grandees, once made bishops, carried out their roles seriously. This inevitably took a lot of time, and involved a great number of people, as Rapp’s book on bishops reveals. Thus, the primary business of an episcopal audience hall was doubtless to regulate the affairs of the Church, as St. Theodore of Sykeon found out when he left his monastic occupations to take up the see of Anastasiopolis. The petitioners and visitors waiting with Augustine outside Ambrose’ door in Milan were doubtless often there on ecclesiastical business, and by the end of the 4th c. any bishop had enough ecclesiastical duties to manage as to make the episcopal role seem heavy to some. With so much to do in church, from managing cleaning, regulating almsgiving, leading liturgies, to writing sermons, it might have been tempting for some clerics to have left the civic administration well alone. What of ‘passive coexistence’ as a model for Church and City relations? We might ask to what extent Christianity simply coexisted alongside secular urban traditions, getting on with the affairs of the Church, within its own buildings, according to its own priorities, and only reluctantly coming to deal with what went on outside in the public space of the city. This is a muchneglected area of analysis. Activities within the church were wide-ranging. It was a place of charitable distribution, a place for widows to gather and pray, for conflicts to be resolved, or for children to be instructed, for the homeless to sleep, and the sick to be tended. Eventually, the church was a place for biological transitions to be marked, in birth, marriage, and death, though it was initially more focused on spiritual transitions. It was also a place of spectacular and intimate worship, in light, in sound, occasionally in dance, a place to meditate on troubles both collective and individual, to celebrate, and to give thanks. In city churches, there was always something going on. Many people came daily, as if to set themselves to rights, before going to work or wherever. Some brought their lives to church, much of it unreformed, with all the difficulties that this entailed. They were not always as disciplined as the clergy wished, but they came. What had any of this ʻJerusalemʼ to do with ‘Athens’? Not very much, perhaps. Within churches, the advantages of streets and squares were being set aside for something new. The extension of Christianity into new spheres of life and administration, not previously occupied by the classical city, was also highly significant.

Conclusion: Themes and Controversies

Nearly everywhere, Christian churches were now the first ‘public’ buildings seen in villages. The same is true for some suburban communities, which had been little touched by the monumental structures concentrated in classical city centres. Beyond church buildings, Christianity did not make an immediate impact on public space, and even when it did that impact was not sufficient to overwhelm the predominately secular character of a city, expressed above all in its colonnaded streets, shops, and squares, in places like Ephesus, Sagalassos, and Apamea. Even right outside of churches, people of a variety of religious allegiances continued to enjoy the mythological stories told by mechanical clocks, continued to play games on fine gameboards given by urban patrons, and continued to enjoy the rich produce available for sale. The presence of crosses cut to decorate inscriptions, of images of St. Symeon, or oaths of sale invoking Christ, did not profoundly alter these patterns of life, just lightly sanctified them. We should also mention Constantinople, where for so many centuries, through Late Antiquity and beyond, a secular public library, with 120,000 texts, was housed in the Basilica courtyard. It stood adjacent to the Zeuxippos Baths with its palaestra full of statues of literary and philosophical heroes, from Homer and Sappho, through Pythagoras and Aristotle to Virgil and Apuleius.112 But more importantly it stood right opposite the Great Church. Civic life and the Church were funded differently, and developed in different ways, but did so alongside each other, surviving well until the early 7th c. in much of the East. It is rather where such secular monumentality did not survive well or had never extended far that we really see ecclesiastical dominance in urban space, expressed in the prominence of church buildings. For example, the diversion of water supplies to ecclesiastical ends happened in the West, not as much in the East, from the examples we have. It is so often the collapse, disruption, or limited reach of secular authority that explains the urban prominence of churches in a given area. In many parts of Medieval Europe, secular failure can account for the prominence of religion as readily as theories of ecclesiastical ambition. In places where the State collapsed but the Church did not, passive coexistence developed into passive dominance, which, once acquired, was difficult to give up. One might say that Christianity ‘talked past’ the classical city for much of Late Antiquity. The Church was perhaps interested in ‘conquering society’ but not so much 112   Literary and philosophical heroes, Zeuxippos: Lenaghan (2016b) 263–64 and rest of chapter with Anth. Graec. 2 Christodorus, active under Anastasius; Suda Christodoros ‘Chi’ 525; Bassett (2004) 51–58, 160–185.

463 in conquering the polis: its own city was in the next world. This, rather than any spiritual failure of Christianity, may account for the limited Christianisation of civic public space during Late Antiquity. Admittedly, by the 6th c., the composition of entirely new cities (Justiniana Prima) and pilgrimage centres (Abu Mina, ‘Marea’), reflects a Christian desire to establish new priorities in cities, in which Church buildings and facilities were more prominent, if not overwhelming.113 Yet, within older cities, the classical city provided such a heavy legacy that the Church could not easily constitute its values in public space, in this era where new city foundations were unknown away from the frontiers. Rather, the hospitals, orphanages, burial services, and charitable distributions of the Church represented urban activities centred on a new mission, as ultimately did liturgical processions.114 Despite their form reflecting secular political ceremonials, such processions came to be more and more distinctive as devotional activity. Further, the growth of episcopal civic activities, in founding prisons, or in regulating the food supply, leading supplicatory processions, embassies of mercy to secular powers, or in providing cheap justice for the poor, could be rebranded as charitable activity.115 It was only the construction and repair of colonnades, theatres, or fortifications, which clearly took bishops in a different direction, indistinguishable from a secular ruler. Yet, when they were not obliged to take up the latter activities, as in Merovingian Gaul, they did not do so, concentrating rather on church building and charitable activities.116 Rather than ‘take over’, the late antique Church sometimes neglected to absorb civic activities which were well suited to its mission. For example, they were very slow to offer schools, despite the potential of education as a charitable activity and as a setting for Christian formation. Rapp has described how Christian education was rather taught in Levantine schools as a subject alongside others. Specialised Christian schools existed only in a few places, at Alexandria, Antioch, Edessa, and 113  Pilgrimage centres: see overview of Bangert (2010) and Lavan (2007) 180–86. 114  Hospitals: Horden (2012); Miller (1997); Lavan (2007c) 194–97 for further bibliography, with examples. Burial services: Just. Nov. 59.5–6 (A.D. 537), IvE 7.4135. Charitable distributions of the Church: Patlagean (1977); Brown (2002); Allen, Bronwen, and Mayer (2009), Rapp (2005) 223–26. 115  Episcopal civic activities as charitable activity: Liebeschuetz (2001) 151; Rapp (2005) 226–34; Brown (2002). 116   Bishops and civic building in the East vs bishops in Merovingian Gaul: Liebeschuetz (2001) 148–49 (secular building works in the East), 157 (bishop building aqueduct in Ostrogothic Italy) 161–67 (Gaul, no secular building listed); See also Halfond (2019) (not seen). See also Avramea (1989) on building work in the East.

464 Nisibis. In general, secular schools and universities continued as they had before in the East. Even in the years around 500, bishop Marcian of Gaza was still sent to the school of a civic rhetor, by his pious mother, along with his brother Anastasius, later bishop of Eleutheropolis.117 In the West, secular schools declined sharply in the 5th c. By the 6th c., the church schools which replaced them were of a lower standard, if the education of Gregory of Tours is anything to go by.118 But this was in a setting where literacy was disappearing, and much of classical learning with it. In the East, a strong tradition of non-Christian learning continued, with some Christian teachers, but with many pagans who considered it to be entwined with pagan belief and even cult practice.119 The philosophical curriculum of Alexandria was not effectively Christianised until the earlier 6th c., and that at Athens not at all before its closure in 529. Here, studies in philosophy increasingly leaned towards pagan theology and religious rites, after the resignation of the Christian sophist Prohaeresius, in reaction to Julian’s attempt to remove his fellow believers from teaching. Watt has traced how 5th c. Christians supplemented classes at Alexandria with reading groups on Christian matters, rather than setting up their own schools.120 Christians broadly supported the traditional system, with reservations, until the later 5th c. The attitude seems to have been: “if it isn’t broken, don’t fix it”. This is surprising, given that some pagans tried to present philosophy and higher learning as belonging exclusively to believers in the old gods. Christian schooling is the most obvious missed opportunity of Late Antiquity, but there were others. For example, Christian theatre was never developed, as it was in other periods. If the Church had taken up either of these spheres of civic life it would have been able to communicate its message more easily. Therefore, to an extent, one can see the history of Church / City relations as being one of coexistence, partly passive.

117  Schools and Christian learning 3rd to early 5th c. East: Rapp (2005) 178–80. Bishop Marcian of Gaza at school: see edition of Choricius by Litsas (1980) 67–71. His mother’s brother taught there. 118  Secular schools and universities continued in the East: see Cribore (2007) 42–82 for schools in the 4th c., including such places as Neocaesarea in Pontus, Armenia, and Arabia; see Szabat (2007) for the 5th to 7th c., with a similar distribution, notably with schools in Armenia and Trebizond in the 7th c.. 119  Decline of secular schools in West in 5th c. and rise of ecclesiastical education, with lower standards emerging: Liebeschuetz (2001) 319–20; Leclercq (1921) 1824–31 (monasteries), 1831–37 (bishops). 120   Evolution of curricula at Athens and Alexandria: Watts (2005a) with 210–16 on the philoponoi as extra-curricular Christian reading groups.

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Another Way? Did the Church actively engage with the city in some other unanticipated manner? i.e. in terms of an adapted version of its own principles, rather than in terms of conflict, conquest, absorption, or passive coexistence? Here, I envisage a positive engagement with traditional civic values, in response to the new issues and horizons being faced by bishops and others involved in the government of the city. I am not concerned here with the public expression of identitarian issues or internal doctrines, but rather with civic practices serving the community based on Christian social ethics. We can see some evidence of this in connection to public space, but not much. It was a halting process, not fully successful, which carried risks: Christian moves to develop operational philosophies for existing urban features always risked being overwhelmed by the ‘world’. Yet, we do have some evidence of perspectives emerging, where Churchmen incorporated secular principles into their moral and theological framework. Clearly, Chrysostom and Augustine both understood and valued the role of sewers in keeping a city healthy, whereas Chrysostom was able to show appreciation for the night watchmen, doing their rounds at night to keep his congregation safe. He often shows an understanding of small details of urban life. He, like Augustine, grasps the particular qualities of different types of artisan, as well as their function within society, seeing each shop as an opportunity for meditation, transformation, or knowledge of the universe. Clement of Alexandria, writing around the year 200, also seems to have begun a patristic appreciation of latrines as the setting for contemplation, on the ephemeral nature of luxurious food. This idea was later taken up by the pater Agathias. So, just as many late antique bishops did not neglect the study of philosophy, neither did they turn away from the advantages of urban civilisation. Rather than rejoice in squalor or dirt, as holy poverty or freedom from luxury, there is a sense that a Mediterranean bishop could well appreciate the idea of public health, and its contribution to a life free from sickness and hunger, for both rich and poor. These attitudes might be summarised as an appreciation of the good done by others, a good which could be co-opted without damaging Christian principles. Of course, Christianity stressed some different values to those of the Roman civic culture, in promoting contemplation, simplicity, anonymous giving, or attention to those in need. This we might expect given the tension with classical literary culture, as documented in the attitudes of Augustine and Jerome or Julian and Basil. Yet, already by the time of Basil, or of Prudentius and Sidonius, a wide range of Christian attitudes had developed: of styles of artistic expression, of allegorical

Conclusion: Themes and Controversies

interpretation, as much as any inverted syncretism, where pagan gods became demons.121 Basil, in particular, recognised good things compatible with the Faith, such as stories of virtue in literary texts, as well as those one might have to set aside. Therefore, we should not be entirely surprised to see the adoption of classical urban practices as a religious good. Unfortunately, whilst we can document Christian integration of classical education, we do not have texts which would help trace this process in civic administration. What we can trace is the introduction of distinctive Christian thought to create new practices in public space. We can certainly see it in the inspection of prisons by bishops, and in the rethinking of baths as facilities for healing lepers etc., rather than simply for pleasure. The latter practice is found in Palestine in three cases in the late 6th c., once definitely involving a bishop, whereas in Italy a focus on baths for the poor develops at the end of Antiquity and in Early Medieval times.122 In both baths and prisons, conditions would have needed to change: it was no longer good enough to throw someone into a dry cistern without food whilst awaiting trial. The introduction of free funerals for the poor also marks a change in social practice. As we have seen, these actions sometime had an impact on secular administrators, who sought to imitate them. There also remains the suspicion, unsupported by texts, that the 6th c. stress on small-scale amenity, after eastern civic finances had recovered, was influenced by Christian attitudes to the poor. But we cannot claim that urban regulation or the maintenance of public space, was recast in explicitly Christian ethical terms. This was not a time in which steps were reconfigured for the disabled nor in which benches were provided for pregnant mothers. Rather, it was a time when significant provision of public services already existed, built on different principles. Christian groups had only just started to grapple with such issues and they were not yet ready to apply their beliefs to them. Christianisation on moral terms could have gone a lot further in civic life, as an ideal as much as a reality. 121  For a review of Christian use of secularised classical literary culture in the West, see Lepelley (2010). On Basil, see Holder (1992) for an introduction with references. 122  Distinctive Christian practices: Prison inspection by bishops: Liebeschuetz (2001) 151 drawing on Cod. Iust. 1.4.9 (A.D. 409, reminding governors), 22 (A.D. 529, doing it themselves), 23 (A.D. 529, closing private prisons and liberating prisoners). Bishop building prison for those awaiting trial, Gerasa A.D. 539: SEG 35 no. 1571. Restoration of bath for Lepers, Scythopolis, by Bishop Theodore (A.D. 558–559): Avi-Yonah (1963). Lepers using baths at Gadara and Livias (near Jericho, ca. A.D. 570): Itinerarium Antonini Placentini 7 and 10 (Latin not seen). Rome, development of baths of the poor as part of Christian charity: Ward-Perkins (1984) 137–46.

465 One is left to wonder if the 5th c. downturn perhaps limited the development of more active Christianisation in secular public space. Christianity had begun to be visible in this sphere at the beginning of the 5th c. The political atmosphere was changing at that moment: emperors had tried a number of iconographic reforms inspired by Christianity, such as introducing the hand of God on coins or removing the statue of Victory in Rome. Chrysostom and Ambrose had pushed for assertive Christianisation at court (the former with unintended results). Yet, such changes could not go far in terms of public space when new civic monuments were not being built. When new civic construction returned, at the end of the century, bishops were more embedded in society and perhaps less radical than earlier. The peak of Christianisation had passed. Did hard times in the mid-5th c. cause bishops to be more conservative, interested in the survival of the Church, and the sanctification of the secular, rather than in its transformation? I do not have an answer to this question, but when bishops were put at the head of councils of notables, from the 460s, one could argue that Christianity had by now found its place in society and it had resolved some of its burning social questions: Christians did not have to live like monks, soldiers were no longer told they committed murder in battle, patrons justified their wealth through church construction, and pagan sculptures were now works of art. Because the development of secular public space had been set aside for 50 years, perhaps an opportunity had been missed to reshape the city when urban Christianity had been at its most radical. Churches, hospitals, orphanages, and monasteries were able to develop strongly at a time when secular buildings were not. When the latter revived, the most radical peak of Christianisation had passed. Secular civic life continued, sometimes with limited Christianisation, sometimes with none, in the law court, in the theatres, in the baths. Older values persisted in part because they had been fossilised by austerity. Overall Judgement I have presented a number of threads of argument by which one might explore and account for the impact on civic life of the presence of Christianity using especially, not exclusively, the evidence of public space: that network of intercommunal experience which joined the many parts of a city into a coherent whole. So, what overall judgement can one make? In relative terms, I would maintain that Christianisation had little or no impact on the City prior to 395, and that a great part of that impact, on streets and squares, was disrupted by the collapse in secular public investment in the middle decades of the 5th c. Admittedly, where civic infrastructure

466 broke down permanently, churches dominated the city, as they also did in villages. Yet, when investment in secular infrastructure recovered in the East in the late 5th c., the Christianisation of public space was still not very marked: churches were more numerous but rarely took the dominating positions that temples had, and were not parasitical on public space or public finances. Monumental crosses tended not to appear on honorific columns, unless imperial images had been accidentally displaced from them; pagan sculpture remained in place with minimal or no editing. The slow pace of Christianisation is obvious when we have a contrast: at Justiniana Prima, an entirely new city of the 6th c. had a church set at its heart in a manner unlike in many older cities of the Mediterranean. It is also clear when one considers the Christianisation of graffiti or of the iconography of popular material culture, which shows a visible change by the 6th c. in the East.123 Some cities did not even start to change their names to remove the patronage of pagan gods until the later 6th to 7th c. (Antioch under Justinian, Aphrodisias in the 7th c.).124 In terms of the tendencies outlined above, the most significant in defining the relationship between City and Church seems to be ‘passive coexistence’. Christianity undoubtedly found itself in a position of dominance in the late 4th c., achieving precedence in all matters, and a monopoly in a few areas. Nonetheless, talk of ‘conquest’ risks overstating change. Paganism as a belief was not suppressed in the manner of religious dissent in 12th to 17th c. Europe. Public sacrifices on behalf of the city were interrupted, but in most places, its private rites faded rather than being rooted out. Christian dissenters could meet in the house of a patron or outside the city walls, whilst Jews and Samaritans met openly and often prospered. Within the Church, any revision / rejection of classical culture did not go very far, despite having its advocates. There were some critiques of past practices, some of which were successful, many of which were not. City councils were never Christianised and the capital city founded by Constantine never really became the City of God. Neither did the leadership of the bishop produce a Taliban-style urban revolution in which theatres were closed, women were covered, statues were smashed, or education was forbidden. Rather, plenty of bishops curated the civic monuments of the past and adopted its architecture. Shiny columns made an impact in defining Christian civic representation, as did secular street processions, but these were off-the-peg solutions in a society which knew nothing else. Beyond the walls of the church, in the city, some habits were sacralised by the Church, but 123  Iconography of popular material, at Sagalassos: Talloen (2013). 124   Changing names of cities: Antioch under Justinian, Aphrodisias in the 7th c.: Roueché (2007).

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not much was actively Christianised. Thus, ‘absorption’ was a significant tendency, although it occurred in both directions. Others were just not particularly interested in the cultural legacy of the classical city. They rather focused on their own Church-based agendas, whilst passively benefitting from what the classical city had to offer. This seems to be the dominant tendency. A few Christian leaders, including from beyond the clergy, did manifest an ability to see what was compatible in civic life with Christian awe at creation or solidarity with those in need. Yet, this ‘other way’, of actively applying Christian ethics to civic life, did not develop as strongly as it could have. It was only in the time of Justinian that an emperor sat down and tried to rewrite legislation with an explicitly Christian frame, rather than issuing prohibitions, making minor revisions, and granting privileges. Much of the time, the Church was busy building something new, on its own terms, passively ‘coexisting’ with the continuing classical city. It did sometimes prop up the city but succeeded in changing it in only a few areas. The Church only really became the senior partner in civic life when the classical polis fell apart, as did the army, and the provincial government, in the traumas of the post-classical world. Is this very surprising? To me it is not. As far as I have read, the leaders and followers of Christianity simply did not anticipate ever becoming a majority religion, backed by imperial patronage, until it happened. Rather, before the time of Constantine, Christians believed their lot to be one of persecution, to be relieved by the imminent end of the world: their condition was one in which they were not in a position to persecute anyone else or to prepare for potential dominance. Their core doctrines involved a spiritual reaction from the ways of the world, not a national religion to survive in it. They were caught unprepared by the changes of the 4th c. This left the Church with an underdeveloped philosophy of participation in civic life, the habits of which, steeped in patronage and paganism, they had probably not intended to bother with. They had been told to “render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s”. There was no ready doctrine to equip Christian leaders for civic administration. Likewise, church groups did not develop many thoughts on inter-religious relations, even though the Gospels record positive reactions of Jesus to individual Samaritans, Romans, and Phoenicians. A good number of Christians could appreciate sewers, fountains, and rubbish collection, but did not see all aspects of classical urban civilisation as being essential. Shady porticoes were laudable, but they could not take the place of hospitals and bread distributions within Christian teachings, which puts the basic needs of beggars and peasants first. Enlightened conversations set within gleaming esplanades appeal to us now, but they have never been hard-wired into Christian teaching, in the way that

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self-reflection, activism, and service had been. Marble colonnades were for the life to come, the perfect Heavenly City. They were not essential here on earth. Bishops had other things to work on. We also need to guard against assuming that political paths, interesting to modern scholars, had automatic currency in the thought of the period. Neither ‘conquest of space’ nor ‘take-over of urban administration’ does appear as part of any of the Gospels. Such tendencies might have been inspired by Old Testament models, where correct belief and behaviour of ordinary Israelites was bound to the survival of the community. Some late antique churchmen certainly thought in these terms, with Moses or Aaron being popular models for the episcopate.125 But the New Testament, with its other-worldly priorities was also a source of inspiration. One might note the role of Christian demonology in supporting aggressive acts, drawing on both the Hebrew scriptures and the Gospels, alongside pagan theologies, but it far from clear that it was important in driving bishops rather than some monks, into action. Overall, the ʻconquestʼ view does not stand a test of comparative reasoning: where one evaluates the political role of Christianity in Late Antiquity against that played by paganism in earlier periods, or against that of Christianity in the Middle Ages. It is especially hard to reconcile ʻconquestʼ with a balanced description of late antique public space, reflecting how people actually lived, rather than how an emperor, or bishop, or monk imagined they should live. Of course, there were instances where church leaders made dramatic, even theatrical, gestures against other cults within their cities, during the rise of Christianity to the status of most favoured religion. It could involve desacralising pagan temples, humiliating cult objects, or appropriating synagogues, as others have described. This behaviour was not common but continued, sporadically, throughout the period, often when wider conflicts legitimated or encouraged it. They became involved in conflicts which classical cities had seen for centuries, fanned by confessional rivalry and perhaps by models taken from Biblical struggles set in Israel and Judah. Furthermore, we clearly have examples of bishops engaged in ‘urban patriotism’, seeking to promote their churches or their cities. Finally, we have bishops in frontier communities in the 6th c. acting as key agents of the state, from the Danube to Bostra, with Cyrus of Alexandria under Heraclius eventually acting as prefect of Egypt, a role most compatible with the Justinianic

125  Moses and Aaron as episcopal models, in the East and the West respectively: Rapp (2005) 125–36.

467 bishop as traced by Claude.126 But this does not mean that the episcopate was primarily a political construction. Within most of Late Antiquity, for those with worldly ambitions, there was still a functioning State offering spectacular careers in the imperial service. It did not make much sense to choose the Church to enrich oneself when more direct avenues were available, without a lifetime of onerous duties. Rather, a decisive move of local elites into the Church to win local power made much more sense when the State had collapsed and prominent families looked to benefit from ecclesiastical influence and power. We can apply this model to 5th to 6th c. Gaul, when we see bishops as leaders of cities, with little counterbalancing secular power. At this time, attempts were being made to pass bishoprics down through families, at least via brothers, nephews, and cousins.127 More seriously, the lobbying of the clergy and prominent lay Christians, encouraged an atmosphere of discrimination, one which they arguably ought to have resisted, from the Church’s own experiences of persecution. Although things were somewhat different at an everyday level, the laws testify to the sectarian ambitions of leading churchmen and some lay believers, even when shorn of Late Roman hyperbole. But to attribute to Christianity the decline or end of the classical city, with its civic institutions and monumental architecture, does not seem credible. The chronology and the details of change do not support it. It is certainly possible to construct a modern moral critique of late antique Christianity, but it is easier to look elsewhere. One might consider how churchmen tolerated / turned a blind eye to evils done by the late antique State to barbarians and their families. Zosimus reports Christian objections on a massacre of Goths at Constantinople, which happened in a church, but Socrates and Sozomen do not.128 Or what of the failure of churchmen to restrain urban violence in the hippodrome / theatre? What of objections to ʻdraggingsʼ? It was once believed that ‘Christian pacifism’ led to the failure of the Empire. Rather, is it time to critique ʻChristian passivityʼ, the moral responsibility for not acting, for turning a blind eye? For those who wish to build a historical critique, from outside or inside 126  Balkan bishops as State agents: Sarantis (forthcoming) sees Balkan bishops under Justinian active in fortification construction, army supply, weaponry storage and billeting, with some power over troops. Cyrus of Alexandria: PLRE 3.377–78 Cyrus 17. The dual role was exceptional. See n.66 for the work of Claude. 127  Bishops in families, Gaul: Mathisen (1993) 91–92. This practice was attested earlier, though not as often, it seems: Rapp (2005) 196. 128  Christian objections to massacre of supporters of Gainas, with burning of a church: Zos. 5.19.4–5.

468 Christianity, there is scope, but its application to the fate of urban civilisation will remain full of equivocation. In the East, the persistence of the civic life perhaps also did something to console continuing religious minorities. No Jew nor Samaritan would have devised the imperial laws which disadvantaged them in Late Antiquity, but their ability to use public space, participate in the theatre, invest in property and trades was still worth something. Their water pipes and sewers also undoubtedly benefitted from a competent bishop, who, ultimately, was now responsible for their administration. The question for non-Christians was not, was this the best constitutional settlement conceivable, but rather was anything better available elsewhere? Pagan philosophers under Justinian, after a stay in Persia, answered in the negative, according to Agathias. Neither does the Jewish kingdom in Yemen seem to have produced a better arrangement: pagan dedications suddenly ceased when the monarchy converted to Judaism; Christians were subsequently brutally persecuted.129 Did this survival of the City and the State in the Roman East actually hold back the ʻtide of Christianisationʼ, so that religious minorities could ʻhang onʼ? Possibly. But it also seems credible that Christians in Aphrodisias, Sardis, and Edessa, like Symeon the Fool, were prepared to live alongside a variety of neighbours, and to see them at festivals and funerals, despite different religious identities. Perhaps we just lack the personal letters that would illustrate inter-religious friendships in the 6th c. such as we have for the later 4th c. As a postscript, the impact of Christianity on civic society must be considered in both chronological and regional terms. There were areas where the balance I suggest above was not followed and was different. But we can establish little that is generally valid by looking at the pope in Rome or at the churches of Jerusalem. Here, ʻconquest of spaceʼ or ʻtakeoverʼ might well have been stronger than ʻpassive coexistenceʼ. These cities were of course not representative. We also cannot be sure that Gallic bishoprics, with their accessible stories, are typical either: places where the State, as it once was, had disappeared. Too much research and too much university teaching on Christianisation has been focused on these settings. Interest in the topic has been too western. Gregory of Tours and his violent world are often presented as somehow being representative of the spirit of Late 129  Pagan philosophers return under Justinian in 532, after leaving in 532: Agath. Hist. 2.30.3–4, with Watts (2005b). Yemen, sudden end of pagan inscriptions ca. 380, persecution of Christians, including massacres, up to A.D. 525: Bowersock (2013) 73–91.

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Antiquity or of late antique Christianity. It is uncertain, however, that what he describes is even representative of life in the Germanic kingdoms of the West. It is more useful to look at well-preserved / well-documented case studies, from such places as Ephesus, Antioch, Bostra, and Edessa, even if provincial capitals are over-represented amongst them. The real answers to the conundrum of the impact of Christianity on ancient society lies here in the East, where 5th c. disruption was not so great. Here, the heartlands of Christianity have often been neglected by Western scholars, simply because they fell to Islamic rule, and so wound up outside the national stories of western nations. The linguistic barriers of the East, with its texts in Greek and Syriac, are considerable. Archaeology suffers less from this and clearly provides the most obvious means of getting to grips with the Christianisation of civic life, as long as scholars stop cherry-picking from it to support textual narratives, and move towards more balanced, even quantitative, arguments, based on all types of evidence. On the Reception of Late Antiquity in the Modern World Finally, I wish to explore what overall image of Late Antiquity this book suggests to the modern reader. Historical episodes from the period are often drawn upon today, to support views of politics and religion, making this task both inevitable and important. Unfortunately, this is not straightforward. There is now an extremely problematic culture of reception for studies of Late Antiquity, which must be addressed before I can set out where this book stands. One only needs to type in a few words on the internet, read reviews in national newspapers, or visit a middle-brow bookshop to find stark certainties written about Late Antiquity. This is nothing new but has become much more prevalent in the last decade or so, coinciding chronologically with the swing against religion seen in the U.S., as Liberal Protestants and some Catholics embrace the New Atheism which has now achieved prominence. In academia, this trend is increasingly associated with publications that sidestep the recent positive re-evaluation of Late Antiquity in favour of something darker. Now religion, and Christianity in particular, is presented as incompatible with civil society and science. The positive revision of Late Antiquity never really did reach beyond the walls of universities and, instead, we are now faced with an ingress of popular culture into academia. Up until the 1970s, generations of scholars had looked to confirm a Gibbonian narrative of the negative

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impact of Christianity, barbarism, and despotism on late antique society.130 This viewpoint had been on the decline, with a current of dynamic scholarship, championed by Marrou or Brown, which insisted that the period be judged on its own terms.131 Archaeology had begun to reveal a prosperous and more complex society than that envisaged by triumphant hagiography or hyperbolic legal texts. Yet, some recent books centred on North American studies of Late Antiquity, based mainly on the interpretation of texts, have shifted academic debate back towards the Gibbonian perspective. This movement has been fuelled, to my reading, mainly by conflicts in North American society, in which universitybased activism now plays a leading role. This trend does not characterise all scholarship across the ocean, by any means, but it seems now mainstream. It remains for the reader to consider what separates my own view of Late Antiquity from the academic and semi-academic texts which are now being written on this subject. But I argue here for a return to a more nuanced view of the period that is more firmly rooted in dispassionate academic analysis and especially in discovery. One might say that the Gibbonian perspective never entirely went away, re-emerging notably for the city with books by Liebeschuetz and Saradi in 2001 and 2006. These books did not simply reassert material decline, as did Ward-Perkins in 2005, but suggested that it could be connected or correlated in some way to the rise of Christianity.132 The popularity of Gibbon’s view is perhaps understandable, as it provides a popular and well-written foundation myth for the secular bourgeoisie of Europe and by extension that of North America, where a conflict between evangelical Christianity and constitutional secularists has tended to set terms of reference. Gibbon’s work supports a view that society is better off run from committees and salons, far from churches and synods, by people who have earned their place by merit rather than by divine calling, and sometimes (less convincingly) how religion is so dangerous that it needs to be restricted or removed from society. Now, the Gibbonian perspective has not simply been revived but has reached fever pitch, in the form of journalist Catherine Nixey’s The Darkening Age: The Christian Destruction of the Classical World. This is a book which has been received well by some classicists working outside of late antique studies, but with disappointment by

many scholars within.133 In this book, a familiar narrative of religious change based on coercion is set out, but also extended to represent the destruction of ancient society as a whole. For Nixey, the behaviour of Islamic State is used to set the tone for her examination of the impact of late antique Christianity, which seems to throttle civilisation itself.134 The story told naturally supports a particular set of attitudes in the present. It suits a born-again secular age, as we now live in the best possible of all times, pitying the violent obscurantism of ages past. In our own world, groups which were once respectable are now to be pushed beyond the margins, just as others are to be celebrated. These new arrangements need some justification, and this can be achieved through historical writing. Yet, the implications of these tales go beyond struggles in the West. Narratives of violence and coercion, designed to ʻunmask religionʼ, can also produce harsh attitudes to those outside of our bubble: antipathy towards nascent democratic Islamic movements or indifference towards persecuted ʻOrientalʼ religions. Generalisations about a violent ‘other’ can allow us to ignore the mistreatment of groups who suffer partly from the policies of our own governments, groups who have managed complex interconfessional relations for well over a thousand years, drawing partly on the civic status quo reached in the 4th to 6th c. The new more-ideologically driven writing on Late Antiquity is also damaging to the academic environment on which it draws. Nixey’s book is not especially problematic as the latest instalment of enlightenment rhetoric. There have always been books like this, produced for example for the secular middle classes in Greece. These have been published by minor presses and have functioned almost as devotional literature to those seeking reinforcement for the opinions they hold. What is unusual about the book is the level of documentation and especially the direct collaborations it acknowledges with prominent academic writers. Nixey, surprisingly, claims not to be making a confessional attack on Christianity. The implication is that, in the company of her academic collaborators, she is contributing something more serious to the study of Late Antiquity. This rhetorical backflip is entirely unconvincing: her work is clearly wrapped up in such struggles. It belongs to the same genre as the paperbacks one might find at the back of religious meetings, and follows a well-established thread

130  Gibbonian narrative of the negative impact of Christianity, barbarism, and despotism on late antique society: Demandt (2007). 131  Position statements on late antique society: Marrou (1977); Brown (1971). 132  Liebeschuetz (2001), Saradi (2006); Ward-Perkins (2005).

133  Contrast the reviews of classical Hellenist Hughes (2018) and Byzantinist Av. Cameron (2017). 134  Nixey (2017) xxv–xxi (here an account of Christian iconoclasm at Palmyra written so as to be confused with that of Islamic State, until the last minute), xxxiv-xxxv (Islamic State at Palmyra as prompting the course of the book).

470 in Anglo-Saxon political rhetoric. Her use of academic sources is especially troubling. These are wide-ranging but tend to support only one side of an argument, magnifying evidence that is dubious or unrepresentative, and simplifying interpretations. Antithèse seems missing, as thèse serves as synthèse. Very little of the work presented surprises or nuances the views she sets out. Indeed, she sets aside contrary arguments as if there is some virtue in doing this. She fixes on topics anachronistically, like the fate of atomism, as if its disappearance had any great significance to cultural or economic development. One gets the feeling that whereas Gibbon was convinced by his views and saw himself uncovering a ‘truth’, Nixey is self-consciously producing a reference point for those who wish to let go of doubt. Thus, the past is used to serve the present, as it has been so often in political tracts. What of objectivity? It was never easy, and always contestable, but should we not at least try to aim for it, whilst not hiding our own formative influences? Can there not be a range of explanations for change, different by region and timeperiod and social situation? Or must everything about the past be tidied up in subordination to the slogans of our age? Nixey’s book is far easier to absorb than normal academic prose, not simply because it is well-written, but because it is argued forcefully, with the flow never interrupted by doubt. Temples are destroyed, artworks smashed, Hypatia the ‘scientist’ lynched, culture stifled. Those with only a religious basis for asserting truth root out all other sources of knowledge. Ancient voices of derision are drawn forward and emphasised, as if there were not similar voices of derision being articulated in the other direction. Nixey’s overwhelming need to demonise late antique Christianity goes especially deep in demonstrating its supposedly noxious impact on intellectual life: she emphasises the reform of Alexandrian teaching in philosophy, which only kicked in during the 6th c., and follows a misleading account of the supposed ‘destruction’ of public libraries, whilst blindsiding the continued development of medicine, mathematics, and, above all, law. Tendencies to collate and organise ‘canonical works’ in philosophy are attributed to Christian machinations although such tendencies can be seen in legal texts from the later 3rd c. It feels like a late and post-medieval concept of censorship is being inappropriately applied to the period. The complex cultural world of Constantinople is notably absent from her work. Her text is pursued with such polemic, without stopping for breath, that there is no place left for discussion, as if there is nothing to be learned from doubt or from those with different perspectives. This style is of course fully in keeping with much writing done by the journalists and commentators of our age.

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Unfortunately, Nixey is not alone in adopting this style in writing about Late Antiquity: it can be seen in some of the academic writing she draws on, which is now becoming mainstream. She relies heavily on a number of recent books, mainly North American monographs, that seem to be designed from the outset to make strategic points in a culture war with some ecclesiastical other. Sometimes, this impression is lessened when one gets beyond the cover or title pages. For example, M. Gaddis’ There is No Crime for Those who Have Christ is a learned survey of a variety of attitudes to religious compulsion and conflict; D. Rohmann’s book on Book Burning contains stimulating discussions of the practice across Antiquity, and also of the way in which books were preserved or simply forgotten before the period began.135 But, in re-reading works of scholars from two decades ago, such as by Liebeschuetz and Bowersock, who had been critical on the impact of Christianity, I have felt a distinct change of tone in recent work. This particularly relates to historical judgements made about the significance of individual episodes. Liebeschuetz, despite highlighting moments of conflict, tried to reach a balanced view, of for and against, in his work of the city, taking particular care to understand the circumstances and different motivations of bishops. Now, prominent authors tend to pile up cases that suit their argument, with only minor nuances, and produce chapter and book titles that grab the attention of anyone with Gibbonian sympathies. This fashion, through its use of texts, promotes impressions given by some ancient writers that Christianity was spread via dramatic acts of emperors, monks, and bishops, rather say than via handouts, patronage, and networks of women (oui, les ‘bonnes femmes’), the kind of mechanisms uncovered by dull historical work on everyday life. The Brownian tendency, to see events from inside the heads of late antique actors, has perhaps now produced a subjective perspective unbalanced by others. In the hands of skilled writers like Brent Shaw, this produces a type of ancient history that risks becoming tendentious, as the use of emotion slips from reconstructing the perspective of ancient writers to expressing the feelings of the author. Few have gone quite as far as Sauer, who put red ink, signifying blood, splashed across the cover of his book on The Archaeology of Religious Hatred. Gaddis has a statue with an inscribed cross on his dustjacket: this is more reasonable, if perhaps unrelated to the exorcism or iconoclasm he envisages. This is now a fashion: Watts has recently changed the cover of his Final Pagan 135   Gaddis (2005); Rohmann (2016) is German not North American but he researched at Boulder and published in English.

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Generation to feature such an image, as his marketing now adopts a harder tone than his prose.136 Yet, this is not only a matter of a change in scholarly rhetoric. A number of academics that I mention seem, from Nixey’s credits, to be very close to her project, removing the distance that one expects between scholarship and polemic. She starts her tome by setting her work within a narrative of personal conversion, away from Christianity, but finishes it by thanking Rohmann for entirely writing her chapter on books. It feels that we are increasingly in the midst of the polarised culture war, and that this has entered late antique studies mainly via US academia, coming from scholars who do not treat archaeology as a basis for independent conclusions, or who only touch on it for illustrations, or who build archaeology around arguments derived from texts. The effect of such slanted scholarship is to create the impression that either ‘science has proved sceptics right’ or, perhaps, that objective judgements on Christianisation are no longer possible in Anglo-Saxon universities. In this atmosphere, even academic works are increasingly designed to ‘preach to the converted’, leaving the unconvinced outside. Nixey’s book serves as a well-designed exercise in public engagement, one that can in turn supply polarised websites with persuasive case studies and arguments drawn from academic scholarship. It seems that scholars who have worked to build these perspectives have found a journalistic conduit in Nixey into which to promote material without being directly associated with it. Taken on its own, their research is stimulating and welcome, but distilled together it reveals not only a very negative view of late antique society, but also a clear political purpose. It is a pity that some very good scholars, with specialised expertise, might soon have their fine work introduced with a caveat. To my eyes, this current reflects not real progress in late antique studies, but a change in the atmosphere in Anglo-Saxon universities in the last 15 years. I write this with a sense of sadness, as if something very worthwhile is being lost that I am very grateful for having experienced. I was myself drawn into high education by an ideal of public education, as a meeting place for different traditions, where one might respectfully disagree with or be enlightened by another. Ideology was at that time on the back foot, unsurprising in 1990s, when so many radicals lost their confidence. But the model I admired, of secularity as the congress of views, has increasingly been challenged by secularism as a belief system, designed to supplant other systems via enlightenment. Rather than draw the best out of each tradition, and subject each to criticism, we are to have one set of values, 136  Book covers: Sauer (2003), a German studying and teaching in the UK. Watts (2015), initally the Circus Maximus.

471 that are not subject to scrutiny. There is a growing perception, certainly in North America, that higher education ought to promote a cultural cleaning of society, rather than be a means of coming together to broaden minds. Universities appear sometimes to be becoming denominationally secular, in opposition to confessional colleges, rather than open spaces for those of any religion or none. This is somewhat ironic as many secular institutions were founded to surpass an earlier generation of religious colleges, not to mirror them. Conversely, the ideal of university as a place of knowledge open to all has found its champions in founders of confessional institutions, notably in the vision of Newman. Radical secular views have always existed in higher education but are now expressed with determination as if to become orthodoxy. They start to become problematic if enlightenment at university is presented as a one-way journey. Students easily absorb critiques of religion and collective society, as it suits the new social structures which they experience. But they are rarely exposed to a balancing anthropological critique of western individualism, or of liberal political systems. The risk is that graduates leave feeling enlightened, but actually lack critical perspectives on the beliefs they now hold, a very weak preparation for the multipolar world that we live in. I did not think it would be necessary to express this in an academic publication, but, for late antique studies, the thinking associated with this recent writing represents the loss of just too much to let it pass without reference. Its impact is based on writing what people want to hear. It creates a direct challenge to the efforts and objectivity of late antique archaeologists. Its desire to cloak a cultural origin myth in scholarship drags us towards tracts, of a kind that are wholly unsuitable in an open academy. It is not always wrong to write such texts, if conducted as part of a doctrinal debate, but it is poor to mix them with objective studies, especially when it is done alongside tenured scholars rather than by journalists alone. When written by academics, students are inevitably given the impression that writers must have arrived at their views objectively: arguments based only on feelings are accepted based on authority. Such books best belong in the political rhetoric section of university libraries. To me, their methods and prose style seem uncannily similar to certain sermons of Late Antiquity which are held up by some as examples of narrow-minded or inflammatory literature. Sadly, politicised history is on the march once again, as activists of all shades wrap themselves up in the cloaks of martyrs, in tales depicted in partisan and lurid terms. This is done without thought for the alternative experiences of others, or for what else might have happened that could put such stories into perspective. Nixey’s book represents the greatest excess

472 of a tendency that has been building in our discipline. This tendency might not be very substantial across the whole field. But such works now form a reference point for those who wish to dip into history to confirm tribal points of view. As scholars we should be concerned if students leave university unable to distinguish between a historical understanding of the past and origins myths which make strategic use of facts to support contemporary doctrines. The consequences of the current trend for our views of Late Antiquity can be seen particularly clearly in the publication (during the proofs of this book) of Ross Shepard Kraemer’s The Mediterranean Diaspora in Late Antiquity: What Christianity Cost the Jews (Oxford 2020). Here, we have an author who, in the introduction, explicitly instrumentalises her serious academic monograph within contemporary cultural struggles: she states that she wishes to counter the influence of American Christians, by demonstrating that their religious tradition is comparable to Islamic State, and that its success depends on historical coercion. She sees the rather polemical essay of Sauer Religious Hatred as exemplary and regards MacMullen’s Christianity and Paganism as providing a reliable account of Christianisation. In support of this come familiar laws and hagiographic excerpts, but also a (modest) quantitative study of epigraphy, although without comparative analysis of trends in other types of epigraphy. Evidence of coexistence from archaeology is oversimplified: it is used rather where it supports conflict and contraction. The solid stratigraphic arguments of Magness on the dating of repairs to the synagogue of Sardis, based on coins (and a lamp), are not fully considered, being confined to a footnote. The evidence of Jews and Christians living together in the adjacent shops in this city in the early 7th c. is not explored. The likelihood of a second synagogue phase of 6th c. date, at Saranda is also not taken on board. Andriake is presented as being disused at some time after the 5th c., when this is not established from the report. One gets the feeling that archaeology, covered in a few pages (12–15, 8–20 if including inscriptions), is not taken seriously as an equal source to texts on late antique religious life. The result is a story that is “in many ways chilling and dismaying”. There is still much good scholarship within the book, but the absence of counter argument and serious discussion of coexistence, particularly for Asia Minor, leaves it wanting. We know that Jews were disadvantaged and sometimes persecuted in Late Antiquity, but there is much to show that they did sometimes prosper, in spite of this. Conversely, Christianisation involved many processes, not all of which involved direct competition with other religious organisations. The explicit political purpose of Kraemer’s book is surprising coming from Oxford University Press.

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Polemical studies of history will always be published but OUP has generally been a space where a different atmosphere prevailed. Since the end of religious tests, the University of Oxford has been a place refreshingly light on ideology. It is one of very few places in the Anglo-Saxon world where scholarship is carried out to the same standards as the CNRS. Yet, in Oxford there has been no need to show one’s adhesion to valeurs républicaines or to restrict forms of academic inspiration, with their different insights. It has been a space of coming together, an agora. When books like that of Kramer’s are produced by Oxford University Press, without counterargument, the case for restricting or removing Christian societies from university activities, attempted recently in Balliol College, is strengthened.137 They are read by student activists, keen to inform their politics with historical narratives. The Press’ stamp is a quality marker. One should be careful here. The absence of dialogue in polemical scholarship can mean that the only relationship possible with those whom one disagrees with is to exclude them. Unwarranted accusations take the place of debate, so that serious academics are placed beyond the boundary of acceptability, seen recently in Sauer’s review of Walsh’s book on Mithraism.138 One would learn more by getting out and meeting people with whom one disagrees: those ‘critical friends’, ‘sceptical admirers’, ‘single-issue allies’ and so on, who exist between one pole of opinion and another. If one writes scholarship through a committed political prism, the result is likely to be that one’s imagined opponents will not be convinced but will disengage. This might seem a laudable objective, to make higher education the preserve of right-thinking people. But in this way the open academy contracts and experience of it is poorer: the ‘universal’ university fails and scrutiny of ideas is weaker. It can be pleasing to talk to one’s self in a mirror at home, or with a group of fellow believers, but the agora offers something richer: a space for dialogue and friendship, as well as a place to grow in and to transcend our worries and limitations of individual circumstances. Rivalries perhaps, but much to hold in common. A place where tolerance is lived out rather than being willed into being, as a doctrine or a piece of legislation. Having criticised the blacklash against positive views of Late Antiquity, it is now my turn to set out a model of that society, based partly on fact, partly on feeling, that others may legitimately dispute. One might expect these views to restate the cultural turn of Marrou and Brown, 137   Balliol college, Oxford, use of historical accounts of Christianisation: https://www.theguardian.com/education/ 2017/oct/09/anger-as-oxford-college-bans-christian-groupfrom-freshers-fair 138  Sauer (2020) invoking Islamic State, to justify a critique of Walsh.

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taken forward by Averil Cameron and others, which gave us Late Antiquity for its own sake. But my work should not be set directly into this revisionist current. Rather, this book is part of a separate re-evaluation of the period that it is based not just on a change of perspective but on the discoveries of 40 years of archaeology, begun perhaps in the UNESCO excavations at Carthage. These were made by scholars of all confessional stripes, from secular Israelis, Christian Palestinians, Muslim Turks, to French Jews, across the late antique East, who have shared in the excitement at the realisation that not just Gibbon but also Jones was far too negative about the prosperity and cultural achievement of the period. My own view, rooted in archaeology, is that economic ‘decline’ exists, in regional terms, there is no doubt, in cities as much as beyond cities.139 That said, ‘decline’ does not work, in economic or settlement terms, across the empire. Neither does it work for the city in all regions. I simply cannot envisage religious or institutional change as being responsible for the end of classical civilisation, nor for any kind of lessening of civic activity nor of education. The porticoes, paving, sewers, sundials, streetlights, and fountains of 6th c. cities look just fine to me. There are significant stories of violence and conflict within the period. But this perspective has been exaggerated, as has the impact of Christianity on the economic, political, and artistic health of ‘civilisation’. What we have in Late Antiquity is a vibrant final chapter of classical history. Major ruptures occurred in the 3rd c., then in 5th c., in reaction to external shocks, not internal processes, on a strictly regional basis. East Mediterranean society was both glorious and broad in the 4th-6th c. Despite setbacks, villains, and controversies, there is much in it to admire, in terms of universal values. The late antique city worked, and was in some areas, ‘better’ than the Early Imperial city, from the bottom up. Another major difference I have from Brown’s rehabilitation of Late Antiquity is that I do not see the world of Late Antiquity as presenting much that was entirely new. For Brown, Late Antiquity is the beginning of the Middle Ages. In this line of thinking, he is followed by many with negative views of the period. Gibbon saw a late antique rupture with the Rome of the Antonines, whilst others would claim a rupture with the Athenian intellectual tradition, as if the closure of the schools of Athens exemplified late antique academic development. For me, there are some ruptures, but they are not as significant as continuity. Furthermore, I see both the Brownian and Gibbonian perspectives as missing an obvious cultural strand in their efforts to define 139  Ward-Perkins (2005) has described it eloquently, as a process forced on Pagans, Christians, and Jews alike, above all by war and political dislocation.

473 beginnings and endings in the achievements of earlier ages. Surely, the centre point of cultural development in the later classical Mediterranean was not Athens nor Rome but rather the Hellenistic East, in such places as Antioch and Alexandria. It was here that Greek learning obtained its open universal vocation, facing outward, to meet Buddhism in Bactria and Judaism in the Levant. Everything was bigger and grander here, a new world in which Greek culture could open its wings and grow more fully. By the time that the Library of Alexandria was built and certainly by the time Origen had his school, Athens had lost its role as the only reference point for intellectual life, just as western Asia Minor had faded in earlier centuries. Athens was the finest university town, yes, but not the centre of all thought. The core tradition of Late Antiquity was animated as much by cultural formations of the East Mediterranean seaboard, probably the wealthiest part of the empire by the dawn of the 4th c. It was this region which made the biggest contribution to the form of Constantinople. Constantine’s city was not simply an imperial creation but a capital that reflected the world of its time, which was not centred on Attica. Whilst Athens has little to do with Jerusalem, Antioch has much to do with Constantinople. The tradition of the city of the Orontes was arguably more enduring on the Bosphorus than that of Rome or of the northern Balkans, which also made its contribution to the city. One might say that contemporary Greeks distance themselves from mainstream Hellenistic culture when they lament the eclipse of Athens’ old monuments. One should rather note the 5th c. east-west colonnaded street laid out past Hadrian’s Library that replaced both the Panathenaic Way and left the old agora as a waystation. Its construction reflects the arrival in Old Greece of a wave of urban renewal from the East, bringing to Attica a dominant architectural form of the Hellenistic cultural achievement, now reshaping the city into a different form. This eastern thread remains a significant ancient component of modern Greek identity and of that of other European nations. It just confuses us by insisting that this cultural strand is an aberration of the classical inheritance. The late antique tradition is a rich one, of philosophy, literature, ethics, and governance, which built and developed what Athens and Rome gave it, despite the harsh ruptures imposed by history. We may now wish to chart a new course, unshackled from the past, but without knowing ourselves properly that may prove impossible. We can at least admit that in addition to being spiritual and ethical, the mainstream of late antique culture, as communicated by the cities of both Asia Minor and Syria, was intellectual, prosperous, and urban. Late Antiquity was no ‘destruction’ of the classical world, quite the contrary. Neither was it entirely a Christian world, even if Christianity absorbed and

474 contributed to its values. As we distance ourselves from this inheritance, it might at least be worth taking a backward glance, to see what was achieved in civic terms in the public spaces of the East, ‘in the middle of the agora’. Admittedly, sat in the libraries of Canterbury, Antioch seems exotic, a long way from what I might perceive as my own cultural heritage. Yet, a thread of continuity even reached those on the Atlantic edge of Europe. When Theodore of Tarsus set up the first school in the Anglo-Saxon world at Canterbury in 668, aged 67, he taught Greek, astronomy, and arithmetic, alongside scripture, music, and poetry.140 This was the tradition of Antioch, drawing on Origen of Alexandria’s open academy, which Theodore had absorbed, alongside medicine and law, in the schools, both secular and ecclesiastical, of the late antique cities of his youth. At Antioch, theology drew on the natural sciences for its scriptural interpretation. Theodore did not belong to an ecclesiastical culture which rejected classical learning outright, but one that grew with it. Not everything was retained, but much was. This attitude was not a simple consequence of education but reflected the public space, classical heritage, and intercommunal life in late antique cities. Ultimately, from the 7th c. on, this education tradition was shorn of much of its content in schools by the different priorities and the more basic needs of the pupils of the Middle Ages. In England, nobody practiced ancient medicine like Theodore did; his students in Greek failed to pass their knowledge on; he himself became a translator of Eastern texts, as he was left alone with his Syriac. Elsewhere, a similar drought forced contraction. But in the English-speaking world, the unexpected injection of East Mediterranean urban culture provided by Theodore, dragged out of retirement in Rome, had an impact. After our own Late Roman cities had died, his school provided a direct connection to the intellectual and civic culture of the Greek world, more authentic than anything an Irish monk or a Romantic poet could provide. Theodore’s interests were more than a curriculum, being the fruit of a rich urban culture, which he lived, in Tarsus, Edessa, and Antioch, reaching even us from the distant past. What impact does my own religious identity have on my judgment here? It seems fair to address this here, given the prologue of this book and the agendas which I claim to see in the writings of others. Does doctrinal belief make academic judgments impossible, and undermine the view of Late Antiquity presented here? I would say not. Yes, the intersection of Christianity with the ancient city is a subject that resonates for me, even 140  On Theodore and his school see Tsorbatzoglou (2012) 79–104, Lapidge (1991) 19–21, Stevenson (1995) 1–73.

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if I understand both believers who flee the city and citizens who flee belief. One might also say that my text is influenced by moralising impulses: the desire, perhaps vain, to synthesise a ‘big picture’ to produce something ‘meaningful’ and ‘socially useful’, of universal value to people of all traditions. However, to me a confessionallycommitted text would risk wilful blindness and perhaps limit its reach. I do not offer this book as fidei defensor, rather as defensor civitatis. Furthermore, my own religious identity has not been entirely stable and its relationship to explorations of Late Antiquity has been complex. I came to the study of the period as a northern Catholic adolescent, with socialist and anti-clerical leanings. Liberal and critical attitudes to religion were prominent. In my hinterland, ruined abbeys and Clifford’s Tower told of the price of religious intolerance, whilst the holy wells of Wales hinted at the power of place beyond my own tradition. My city of Manchester was one in which integration between Catholics and Protestants was near total, with few of the rivalries seen in Liverpool or Glasgow. I grew up a few miles from the synagogues of North Manchester, both reformed and ultraorthodox, watching many Jews, getting to know a few. Then, aged 12, I swallowed Gibbon. Initially, I took his critique of the Jews to be factual, coming from a great scholar, despite my mother’s social work with elderly townsfolk who had lost family members in the Holocaust. I also absorbed Gibbon’s critique of the Church, reinforced by the Guardian newspaper. In my schoolwork, the Church was a suspect institution that took over festivals, in its pursuit of power. My attitudes to Christianity were refoundationalist. When I took up study of Late Antiquity at university, chasing the ‘survival’ of the ancient world, I was surprised: not only to see the period as dynamic, but also to see the impressive charitable structures of the Church, and the learning and political activism of clergymen. I was inspired not by Cyril of Alexandria but rather by John the Almsgiver, Severinus, the Cappadocian Fathers, and, in a few matters, Ambrose. I saw their faults but these were set alongside qualities: a misogynist might decry torture, a tree-cutter might oppose the persecution of heretics, and an ‘anti-Semite’ might denounce slavery. Inside the Church, doctrine no longer seemed to be the arbitrary imposition of a power-hungry Papacy. I was struck by the continuity and commonality of Christian belief before the Reformation, noting how little ancient churches diverged in teaching, despite being episcopally separated and geographically distant. The Church of East, in China by 635, seemed to be missionaries but not colonisers. I was also surprised by the efforts of church councils to work towards consensus. In contrast, it was clear to me, from Justinian and Heraclius, how

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damaging could be the justification of secular power by religion, no matter how much it might have been ‘needed’ at the sharp end of empire, Justinian’s Balkan cradle. I also learned about the heroes and pains of other religious traditions. Then on turning to urban archaeology, I found many questions in flux, with popular theories not always matching the evidence before me. Some textual narratives were wrong, many over simplified. There also was a need to appreciate unanticipated developments of the period, revealed by material evidence. Beyond religious matters, I revised my sceptical view of ‘elite’ classical monuments, finding a common civic culture which benefited both poor and rich. Undoubtedly, prior beliefs have shaped my interpretation to some extent. But the development of my views came also from allowing myself to be stimulated by the evidence I encountered, which was not always as I expected. For this reason, I stand by the conclusions of this book, and the positive, if nuanced, depiction it gives of late antique society, as expressed in civic life. The Last Word One never has the last word in History, just as one never has the last word in Religion or Politics. Someone will always come along to overturn our utopias and cause us to retreat to the margins, after our moment in the sun. The final word of this book should be given not to any interpretative conclusion but to the nature of historical practice: on how much has changed as a result of the emergence of an archaeology of Late Antiquity and on how our knowledge of the late antique world remains incomplete. Nuances are starting to emerge about the late antique city, not just on a regional basis, but also on a chronological basis, which confound many ideas that have circulated in scholarly literature. We now have a much wider source base: we can no longer sit down with the Theodosian Code and comfortably write the history of the period by rearranging laws into topics, just using its index. We can no longer get an impression of a late antique city like Ephesus, without studying its phasing. We can no longer talk about the nature of Christianisation and civil society without looking at how people actually lived, from the evidence of buildings, pavement signs, and material culture. We can no longer evaluate the nature of late antique urban regulation, without plotting epigraphic signs onto maps and working out which features they coincide with. Quantitative arguments are starting to be important, not just for studying the economy, but also when looking at religious change, at least in as far as they allow us to rule out or downgrade certain hypotheses. We have enough data to support

multi-causal rather than mono-causal explanations. Surely, we can expect even greater harvests from refinements in archaeological method, as much as from new fieldwork. It is hard not to be impressed with how quickly views have changed, and how a few well-preserved sites can alter our perception of the detail of urban life. We must accept that some aspects of late antique cities are still only dimly perceptible because surviving traces of ancient behaviour are more complex or dispersed than they might be in other periods, thereby frustrating comparison. North American studies of religion, in particular, need to change. We see here scholars produce books on Late Antiquity, sometimes at the rate of one per year, drawing on the same old literary and legal texts, easily accessed, recut, and recycled, to make statements that are not compared with other types of evidence. An innovative method for analysing texts is perhaps proposed, producing new arguments about late antique society. This sophistication seems to provide a reason for ignoring the growth of archaeology, as if the re-examination of old sources is the main way to progress a discipline, to justify a new generation of doctorates. Yet, it does not have to be like this. The impressive work of K. B. Stern, Writing on the Wall, on epigraphic evidence for everyday Jewish life in Antiquity shows how a more broad-minded approach might be taken to the varied sources for the period when writing religious history.141 If one cannot take the same route, then one does need at least to be aware of the need to situate one’s conclusions as a very partial light on the past, and avoid strident claims. Ancient History is no longer the preserve of scholars weaned on ancient texts, and a training in archaeological argument, at least at MA level, must now be a prerequisite for anyone who aspires to be a late antique or Byzantine historian, of the city, of the countryside, of the economy, of the State, or of religion. There is no branch of administrative or cultural history where archaeology does not have a significant or predominant role to play. I would not have made such strong remarks a few years ago. But the new ʻnegativeʼ revision of Late Antiquity has clearly been encouraged by text-based historians in the United States, affected by polarisation. For them, the Brown-Marrou re-evaluation of the period may seem like an ideological twist. But for archaeologists, the rediscovery of Late Antiquity, in the East Mediterranean at least, has not been a case of ʻspinʼ. One can equivocate about the Gaul and the Balkans, but not about southern Anatolia, Syria, and Palestine, where vitality and prosperity is everywhere. As a tutor once said to me, on the Syrian countryside: “You only have to look at the pictures 141  Stern (2018).

476 in Tchalenkoʼs book to realise that Gibbon was wrong”.142 I would also argue that archaeology has also revealed the plurality of Late Antiquity and its development of the classical tradition, within and outside of Christianity on a factual, not an interpretative, basis. Thus, for me, a movement to reverse the positive re-evaluation of Late Antiquity is not only an ideological project but is methodologically flawed. It reinterprets ancient texts but simply ignores archaeology, beyond raiding it for illustrative case studies, selectively chosen and often poorly dated. A reform of Ancient History in the US is needed, to break the dominance of text-based scholarship. The effort required to master ancient languages has perhaps produced neglect of other evidence and of balanced historical arguments. One of the great benefits of having many forms of archaeology, as well as texts, is that it is now becoming possible to set different explanations of change in Late Antiquity at the same time, rather than argue for a coherent ‘Black Legend’ or ‘White Legend’ for the period. For example, religious intolerance and religious pluralism can be found alongside each other within Late Antiquity, sometimes as different traditions in adjacent regions, sometimes present in the same region. Aesthetic continuity and aesthetic disjuncture also coexist. Sometimes, we see the survival of urban behaviours where ancient paving was covered in silt, or new behaviours where ancient architecture survived. If one journeyed from Jerusalem to Serdica, one would pass sequentially first through a region experiencing religious conflict, then one experiencing economic stagnation, then military weakness, then cultural rupture, or, alternatively, first through a region of economic vitality, then religious coexistence, then cultural conservatism, and finally military strength, depending on one’s choice of observations. Late Antiquity contained such opposites within the same empire. However, the modern appetite for ideological reinforcement will very likely try to overwhelm such nuances, as we fish in the past for facts to confirm and advance our views. In so many areas of life now, we often see a tendency to build arguments in which contrary examples are passed over, as we construct our own reasonable case on tailored facts. We tend to interact with different perspectives by deriding, exaggerating, or blind-siding them. Monologue replaces dialogue, a profoundly undemocratic development. Despite being characteristic of political language today, this strain of rhetoric perhaps owes more than we think to the religious mind. The decision of a generation of lawyers to move into the Church in the late 4th c., as priests and bishops, has perhaps given the West a type of harangue, designed simply to win a case rather than 142  Tchalenko (1953–58).

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find a truth, which secular preachers, from Huxley to Dawkins, have unwittingly absorbed from ecclesiastical forebears. As academics, our job is surely to resist the arrival in our libraries of such sermons, and to highlight their limitations by subjecting them to proper analysis. We must be ever alert to the way views of the past shift to reflect the mood of the present. We must do the tasks that the authors of polemic seem to disdain: point up inconsistencies, draw attention to alternative hypotheses, and synthesise dispersed evidence for perspectives now lost to us: in short, to reveal the sensibilities of a former age. Our task is to set aside rhetoric, as found in late antique Christian triumphalism or modern tracts, and to construct a balanced account of historical change, which draws on comparative reasoning and a wide variety of sources, using arguments generated by archaeology alongside those from texts. In terms of our judgement on the overall nature of late antique society, and the impact of Christianisation, I would go as far as to say that it is time to put some ancient writings down, and stop trying to develop historical understandings from ever-more subtle internal readings of texts. Recent scholarship has sought to uncover Procopius of Caesarea or Choricius of Gaza as crytopagans, in an attempt to resolve the rich multi-faceted nature of late antique texts, which some find to be a contradiction.143 But a glance into the physical world of public space, exhibited to all citizens, suggests that such interpretations may be flawed. Statues of female goddesses stood in Tychaia outside Hagia Sophia, even in the age of Justinian. The fountains of Ephesus and Laodicea were covered in Christian ornaments but still displayed pagan mythology in the 6th c., whilst the churches of Madaba were decorated by traditional tales with nudity into the 8th c. The new water clock at Gaza described by Choricius happily displayed the labours of Hercules in the civic centre of Justinianic Gaza, without opposition from Christian governors and bishops. Yet, Choricius’ knowledge of classical culture did not cause him to stumble when describing the New Testament scenes in a nearby church. He seems simply to reflect a particular cultural settlement which was at ease with a Christian faith and a classical cultural inheritance, a cultural settlement which had not chosen direct syncretism. This had been tried on occasion, as with the honorific statues of a church and civic patron of Stratonicea, but had not taken root. In its place, in western Asia Minor, we find a group of Christians having very subtle symbols inscribed on their monuments in the late 4th to early 5th c.: small crosses, staurograms, or the abbreviated slogan ΧΜΓ, sometimes hidden in hair but 143  Procopius and Choricius as cryptopagans / non-Christian Hellenes: Kaldellis (2004); Stenger (2018).

Conclusion: Themes and Controversies

more often not. These were not Crypto-Christians but Christian citizens, who participated in a shared culture, whilst retaining their religious commitment.144 Late antique Christianity was not the ‘Islamic State’. Neither was the retinue of ʻAmr, who arrived in the Levant in the 640s, comparable to this organisation in its behaviour. Whilst the modern terrorist group blew up the tetrakionon of Palmyra, under Muslim authorities in the 7th to 8th c. this same monument type was preserved in this city, respected at Gerasa, and copied at ʽAnjar .Were late antique cities tolerant in the sense we understand it? No, they were not. Nonetheless, some cities were both not only classical but intercommunal, long after they ought to have been neither. Civic coexistence was not a lesson taught to the polis by Christianity, but one learnt from it, maintained in regions where it had already developed, existing elsewhere in tension with those who sought to persecute and exclude. These cities may even still have lessons to teach us too, some familiar, some not. Late antique cities can show us that regulation does not have to be bad for commerce. They suggest that civic amenity can play an important role in building socio-political cohesion, and that civic memory is significant in fostering political stability. They point up to positive contributions that religious culture can make to civic life as well as to ways of maintaining intercommunal relations. They might also suggest, against our own instincts, that oligarchic government can be intimate and engaged, and that hierarchy can coexist with rule by consent. We may find, in such fully developed ancient cities, more than monuments or sewer systems to copy. There is perhaps even a civic ethic that is wellworth meditating on, which we have lost from our own society. In closing, I should admit that I have passed some of the most enjoyable moments of my life visiting ancient cities in the Central and Eastern Mediterranean, where remains of Late Antiquity are much in evidence. So far, in this book, I have tried to avoid giving a collage of impressions based on the particularities of places, or to generate support based on the feelings encouraged by photos. Instead, I have tried to stick to an analytical frame and to keep some distance from the evidence, which can beguile one’s senses with its appeal. That said, some of these cities are exceptionally beautiful, like Arykanda, its golden stone walls set high up in the Lycian pines, 144   Christian symbols on statues: Lenaghan (2013b) 100–102. ‘Exorcism’ here does not work as an explanation, as this is a defined cultural group / fashion, where the symbols are part of the original conception of monuments.

477 or like Hippos Susita, a jumble of ancient ruins amongst barbed wire on a mighty acropolis, looking over the Sea of Galilee. The glory of late antique churches can be seen, at places as far flung as Sufetula, Ravenna, Nicopolis, Stobi, Hierapolis, Side, Korkyos, Bostra, Pella, and Abu Mina, as can the glory of synagogues at Sardis and Sepphoris. But at a great number of these sites, one can also trace Late Antiquity in the later phases of secular public buildings, as at Iol Caesarea, Philippi, Ephesus, Xanthos, Laodicea, Aphrodisias, Sagalassos, or Caesarea Palestinae, within structures built centuries earlier. One can even see attempts to conserve art works and temple buildings which, without this treatment in the 5th and 6th c., would have vanished from the skyline. The loss of Antiquity is undoubtedly one of the great traumas of the West. It was lost more deeply in parts of western Europe than elsewhere. We will never get over it. Moreover, the very nature of religious belief, as a set of debatable doctrines based on faith, means that different confessions will be blamed for it, time and again, as contemporary groups seek to spread their own view of the world in the present day. Ever more texts will be added to piles of confessional accusations, that, when free of nuance, reinforce rather than challenge or inform readers. It is easy to fall into stereotypes about religion and the end of classical civilisation, but, even now that Antioch, Edessa, and Alexandria are obscured, the experience of visiting the cities of the East can give one an alternative impression of Late Antiquity. If one walks those streets and sits long enough to shed one’s preconceptions, a different reading of the dates, use, and fate of buildings can emerge. In the remains of eastern cities, of Greece, Turkey, Cyprus, Lebanon, or Jordan, one should allow oneself a more open mind. So often such attitudes and conflicts are brought to sites rather than being obvious from what is visible there. A keen observer of the ruins will notice that in the 4th–6th c. effort was not only put into new priorities, as we have in every age, which might have obscured earlier classical buildings. Effort was also put into maintaining the architectural structures and low-level civic amenities of the ancient polis, long after many of its monuments were built, and long after Christianity became well-established. It seems that we were not the first people to admire the classical city, nor to care for its legacy. We may find that the lives of those who inhabited the Mediterranean city resonate for us in other ways. It is worth taking the time to consider not merely the failings of their age but also the achievements of their urban civilisation, which was prosperous, cultivated, and compassionate to those in need, as texts and ruins tell us.

478

chapter 7

Figure G12 Constantinople, as reconstructed by Tayfun Oner, a city dominated by civic space, with hippodrome, baths, grand avenue, law courts, public library, senate, and forum. Churches and some hospitals sit within the classical city but do not overturn it. This interpretation, intended to be of 1200, rather best reflects the city in 616, as it turned to face the Middle Ages, with hardly any buildings from after this date. Copyright T. Oner

Graphs of Building Work Introduction The graphs presented here provide a more robust basis for discussing chronological variation than general impressions derived from prose. Nevertheless, it is necessary to make a few cautionary remarks before drawing on them. All users would be wise consider the following caveats and to scrutinise the data the images depend upon. The graphs show the mid-points of dating ranges included in numbered appendices. They represent ‘building events’ whether large or small. The use of midpoints is not ideal, but it is one way of producing an overall spread of data, in which general trends are visible. Dates with very long ranges, of over 200 years, are excluded from the graphs. In this way, a false peak in the mid 5th c. is avoided, created by generic dates, sometimes spolia dated only to ‘Late Antiquity’, whose mid-points tend to fall around 430. Date intervals that appear as 400–425 in the text are rendered as 401–425, to prevent borderline entries being counted twice. In an ideal world, I would separate all regions, at least East and West, but have run short of both time and funds. The reader will just have to bear in mind that the later 5th to 6th c. secular building is very largely Eastern. This means that the overall distribution of building work (graph 60) should not be interpreted as showing a feeble recovery in the later 5th c. Rather, it shows a recovery in the East that matched and exceeded the level of building attained earlier in the same region, whilst the West did not recover. But no-one should imagine that the East was unaffected by a crisis in the mid-5th c. For the other crisis, of the 3rd c., my data is less reliable, as did not set out to record material prior to 283, although most of that after 250 is probably included. The distorting effect of epigraphy on distributions, notably the 4th c. material from Africa, can be studied

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004423824_010

by looking at graphs 36–38. This it is not very great, that epigraphy under-represents 5th-6th c. activity, which is attested by archaeology in the East. Undoubtedly, epigraphy ‘lifts’ the level of 4th c. building work slightly overall, but it is also true to say that civic repair archaeology is poorly developed for the 4th c., sometimes confused with Early Imperial work, or overbuilt in the 5th-6th c. Generic dates for Late Roman Africa could contribute to a bump in the 360s, but I do not think this is a major issue. More seriously, the final years of the Roman East may be under-represented, by a tendency for archaeological midpoints to have long ranges, pushing their midpoints into the third or fourth quarter of the 6th c. But the postJustinianic peak is real. On some occasions, I have included cross references (‘see alsos’), because graphs of individual building operations represent a false picture, as they do for the spread of sidewalks, water pipes, and other amenities, which were sometimes but not always constructed as part of wider projects. In contrast, major monument types which tend to have only a small number of cross references produce more reliable graphs. I have removed false positives of phases of decay, occupation, or statue dedications, which distort a simple reading of the dates in the appendices. Readers should also watch out for ‘declines’ in some building work that are compensated for by logical growth in others. In short, one must work critically through numerical data in order for it to make any sense. Yet, none of this keeps me awake at night: I feel that the date distributions represented here tell us a great deal about the nature of civic life in Late Antiquity. I am grateful to Tom Marshall, Mike Lavan, and Kelsey Bennett for undertaking the work of transcribing all date ranges and midpoints into a spreadsheet and to Kelsey for the graphs.

6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 65 0 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22

480 Graphs of Building Work

Monumental Streets (Graphs 1–3)

3

0.5

0

Graph 1

14 12 10 8 6 4 2 0

Graph 2

16 14 12 10 8 6 4 2 0

Graph 3

3

2.5

2 2

1.5

1 1

0

1

1 0

3

4

1 1

0

3 0

6

3

8

4

1

0

4 0

3

1

3

C2 and C3: Colonnaded streets, new, all

2

1

0 0

12

7

12

8

4

0 0 0

13

1 1

1 0

0 0 0

0 0 0

0

C2: Colonnaded streets, new (part of new urban quarters)

14

10

6

4 0

C3: Colonnaded streets, new / comprehensively rebuilt (not part of new quarters)

16 15

10

6

0 0 0 0 0

6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22

5 4.5 4 3.5 3 2.5 2 1.5 1 0.5 0 226‒250 ad 251‒275 ad 276‒300 ad 301‒325 ad 326‒350 ad 351‒375 ad 376‒400 ad 401‒425 ad 426‒450 ad 451‒475 ad 476‒500 ad 501‒525 ad 526‒550 ad 551‒575 ad 576‒600 ad 601‒625 ad 626‒650 ad 651‒675 ad 676‒700 ad 701‒725 ad 726‒750 ad 751‒775 ad 776‒800 ad

6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 65 0 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22

Graphs of Building Work

16 14 12 10 8 6 4 2 0

Graph 4

Graph 5

5

0

Graph 6

4 4

1

0

25

20

15

10

1

1

4

4

5

481

Street Porticoes (Graphs 4–6)

16

3 5

1 0 0 5

1

4

1

6 5

C4–C6d: Porticoes, all building work

4

0 0

1

2

1 0

0

11

3 4

1

1 0

4

2

3

0 0 0 0 0 0

C4: Street porticoes, new individual

5

4 3

2 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

C5: Street porticoes, repaired (excluding floors only)

21

11

0 0 0 0 0 0

6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 65 0 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22

482 Graphs of Building Work

Graphs 7–8

3

0.5

0

Graph 7

7 6 5 4 3 2 1 0

Graph 8

3 3

2.5

2 2

1.5

1 1

0 0 1

6

2 2

3

0

2

3

2 2

1 0

3 4

1

0

C11 : Sewers and drains with cross-references

1

3

2

1 0 0 0 0 0 0

C7: Sidewalks with cross-references

7

5 4 4

2 1

0 0 0 0

6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 65 0 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22

Graphs of Building Work

7 6 5 4 3 2 1 0

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 0

5 4.5 4 3.5 3 2.5 2 1.5 1 0.5 0 1

0 0

0 1

2

0 2

2

483

Graphs 9a and 9b–10 7

4

2 3 2 1

0 0

10

1

2

1

5

3 3

1

0

1

4

2 2

1 2

4

0

1

0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Graph 9a C9a: Surfacing in stone paving (major works on major roads)

10 8 5

0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Graph 9b C9a: Surfacing in stone paving with cross-references

5

3

2

2

1

1

0

0

0 0

Graph 10 C10a: Street surfacing in paving, gravel, pebble, cobbles, rubble etc. (major strrets)

0

6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

484 Graphs of Building Work

Graphs 11 and 12

12 10 8 6 4 2 0

2 1.8 1.6 1.4 1.2 1 0.8 0.6 0.4 0.2 0 11 9 6

4

0 2

0 0 0 0 4

1

0 0

3

1 1

0

1

1

0

2

1

3 2

0

1

1

0

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0

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Graph 11 C9a, C9b and C10a: Street surfacing in paving, gravel, cobbles, and other good quality materials (major streets)

2

1 1

0 0 0

Graph 12 C10b: Street surfacing in beaten earth and related materials, selected examples (major and minor streets)

6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 3 5 3 50 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

Graphs of Building Work

4 3.5 3 2.5 2 1.5 1 0.5 0

1 0.9 0.8 0.7 0.6 0.5 0.4 0.3 0.2 0.1 0

12 10 8 6 4 2 0 0 0

0 0 0

0

1

485

Graphs 13–15 4

3 3

2 2

0

1

0 0 0

7

1

Graph 15 E1a–E4: Porches and facades

2

1 0

1

0 0

8

7

4

2

0

5

2

1

1

4 4

1

0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Graph 13 E1a–E1j: Entrance porches

1

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Graph 14 E2a–E2c: Small semi-circular recessed façades

11

4

2

0 0 0 0 0 0

6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 65 0 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22

486 Graphs of Building Work

Graphs 16–18

1 0.9 0.8 0.7 0.6 0.5 0.4 0.3 0.2 0.1 0

0.5

0

5 4.5 4 3.5 3 2.5 2 1.5 1 0.5 0 1

0 0 0 0

3 3

2.5

2

3

0 0

1

0 0 0

3

1.5

1 1

0 0 0

0

1

0

2

0

3

0

1

0

3

1

0

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Graph 16 F2: Tetrastyla

3

2 1

1 1

1 1

0 0 0 0 0 0

Graph 17 F3: Tetrapyla new built

5 4 3

2 2

1

1

0 0 0 0

Graph 18 F1–F5: Tetrakionia, tetrastyla, tetrapyla, new and repaired (on city streets)

6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 65 0 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22

Graphs of Building Work

10

8

6

2

0

4 3.5 3 2.5 2 1.5 1 0.5 0

0.5

0 5

4

0

1

0 0

Graph 21 F8a: Wall arches

1

487

Graphs 19–21 12 12

9 6

1

7

2 3

0 0 0

1

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Graph 19 F7a: Arches, new (including arches giving onto fora / agorai)

4

3 2 2

1 1

0

3

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Graph 20 F7b: Arches, repairs with cross-references

3

2.5

2

1.5

1

1

0

0 0 0 0 0 0

6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 65 0 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22

488 Graphs of Building Work

Graph 22

14 12 10 8 6 4 2 0 13

11

0 0 10

6 7

3 4

1 0 3

1

Graph 22 F7a–b & F8a: Arches, new built and repaired, all types

0 1 0 0 0 0 0 0

6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 65 0 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22

Graphs of Building Work

3

2.5

2

0.5

0 2 2

489

Graph 23

3 3

2 2

0 0 0

Graph 23 F8 & F10: Honorific columns

3

2

0 3

2

1.5

1 1

0 0 0 0 0 0

6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 65 0 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22

490 Graphs of Building Work

Graphs 24–26

4 3.5 3 2.5 2 1.5 1 0.5 0

7 6 5 4 3 2 1 0

7 6 5 4 3 2 1 0 4

2

1

1

1

1 1

0

1 1

0

1 0

1 1 1

3

1 2

3

1

0 0

1

1

0

1

1

0

1

1

Graph 26 H1–H3: Monumental fountains, all works, on streets

1

0

3

1

0

0

0 0 0 0 0 0

Graph 24 H1: Monumental fountains, new, on streets

7

3

1 2

0

1 0 0 0 0 0

Graph 25 H2: Monumental fountains, repair / rebuilt, on streets

7

5

3

2

0 0 0 0 0

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 65 0 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22

Graphs of Building Work

3

2.5

2

0.5

0

2 1.8 1.6 1.4 1.2 1 0.8 0.6 0.4 0.2 0

4 3.5 3 2.5 2 1.5 1 0.5 0 0 0

1

0 0

491

Graphs 27–29 3 3

2

1.5

1 1

0 0

1

3 2

1

4

1

1

2

0

Graph 29 H6–H6b: Fountains, all types, new and repaired

1

1

2

1

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Graph 27 H6: Street fountains, new and repaired

2 2

1

4 1

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Graph 28 H6b: Fountains around churches, a selection

4

3 2

1

0 0 0 0 0 0 0

6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22

492 Graphs of Building Work

Graph 30

16 14 12 10 8 6 4 2 0 15

0 2 3 5 7

Graph 30 H7: Statues in streets, new

9

6 5 2 3 1 1 3

0 0 0 0 0 0 0

6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22

Graphs of Building Work

4 3.5 3 2.5 2 1.5 1 0.5 0

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 0

14 12 10 8 6 4 2 0 3 1

Graph 32

1

1

493

Graphs 31–33 4

3

0 0 0

10

3

2 2

1

0

7

3

0

8

5

0

Graph 33 J1–J3: Minor streets, all works

4

2

1

0

3

3

1

3

1

5

4

4

1

1

5

2

1

2

1

0 0

2 2

2 2

0 0 0

Graph 31 J1: Minor streets built anew

9 6 4 4 1 0 0 0

J3 : Minor streets, paving and surfacing with cross-references

14 10

6

0 0 0

0

Graph 35 J1–3: Minor streets, all works (the West) 776-800 AD

751-775 AD

726-750 AD

701-725 AD

676-700 AD

651-675 AD

626-650 AD

601-625 AD

576-600 AD

551-575 AD

526-550 AD

501-525 AD

476-500 AD

451-475 AD

426-450 AD

401-425 AD

376-400 AD

351-375 AD

326-350 AD

301-325 AD

276-300 AD

251-275 AD

226-250 AD

776-800 AD

751-775 AD

726-750 AD

701-725 AD

676-700 AD

651-675 AD

626-650 AD

601-625 AD

576-600 AD

551-575 AD

526-550 AD

501-525 AD

476-500 AD

451-475 AD

426-450 AD

401-425 AD

376-400 AD

351-375 AD

326-350 AD

301-325 AD

276-300 AD

251-275 AD

226-250 AD

200-225 AD

0

200-225 AD

494 Graphs of Building Work

Graphs 34–35 4

3.5

3

2.5

2

1.5

1

0.5

Graph 34 J1–3: Minor streets, all works (the East)

12

10

8

6

4

2

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 65 0 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22

Graphs of Building Work

2 1.8 1.6 1.4 1.2 1 0.8 0.6 0.4 0.2 0

4 3.5 3 2.5 2 1.5 1 0.5 0

4 3.5 3 2.5 2 1.5 1 0.5 0 2

0

1

1 1

3

2

1

3

2

495

Graphs 36–38 2

0

3

2

1 1

0

2

0 0

3

1

0 0

0

1

0

Graph 38 K4a1–K4b2: Porticoes on f/a, new, (all sources)

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Graph 36 K4a P1 & K4b P1: Porticoes on f/a, new (inscriptions)

4

3 2

1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Graph 37 K4a P2 & K4b P2: Porticoes on f/a, new (non-epig. texts and archaeology)

4

3

2

1

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 65 0 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22

496 Graphs of Building Work

Graphs 39–41

9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 0 9 7

5

0

0.5

0

4

2

0 1

3

8

6

3 0

0 0 0 0

12

10 9

7

4

4 4

6

4

1

1.5

1

2

2

5

1 2

1

5

2

0

2.5

2

1

0 0 0 0 0 0

4

2

0

Graph 41 K2a, K2b, S3: Fora / agorai, comprehensive restorations

2

1

1 0 0 0 0

Graph 39 K1a & S1: Rectangular plazas, new

3 2 1 0 0 0 0 0 0

Graph 40 K1b & S2: Round plazas, new

12 9

4

0 0

1

0 0

6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 65 0 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22

Graphs of Building Work

7 6 5 4 3 2 1 0

5 4.5 4 3.5 3 2.5 2 1.5 1 0.5 0

2 1.8 1.6 1.4 1.2 1 0.8 0.6 0.4 0.2 0 1

1 2

0

0 0 0 0

497

Graphs 42–44 7

5

1

0

4

3 3 3

0 0

3

0

1 0

1

1

0 0 0

4

3 3

1

0 0

2

3

1 0 1 0 0 0 0 0

Graph 42 K4a1–K4b2 & S4: Porticoes on fora agorai, new with cross-references

5

2 1 1

0

Graph 44 K7a, K7b, S7a: Monumental fountains on f/a, new and repaired

1

0 0 0 0 0

Graph 43 K4d & S5a: Paving on fora / agorai with cross-references

2

1

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 65 0 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22

498 Graphs of Building Work

Graphs 45a–45b

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 0

4 3.5 3 2.5 2 1.5 1 0.5 0 10

6 6

4

0 0

0 0 0 0 5

1 2

1 1

0

Graph 45b M2: Tribunals with cross-references

2

0 2 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Graph 45a L1, L2, S12b: City council chambers with cross-references

4 3 2 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 65 0 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22

Graphs of Building Work

4 3.5 3 2.5 2 1.5 1 0.5 0

2 1.8 1.6 1.4 1.2 1 0.8 0.6 0.4 0.2 0 0 0 0 0 0

499

Graphs 46–47 4

2 2

1

0 0 0 0 1

0 0

2

1 1

0 0 0

Graph 47 V1 & V2: Churches built over fora/agorai

1

0 0 0

1 1

0

1

0 0 0 0 0

Graph 46 U1–U4: Churches built on, not over fora/agorai

2

1

0 0 0 0 0

20 0 22 ‒22 6‒ 5 a 25 250 d 1 27 ‒27 ad 6‒ 5 a 30 300 d 1 32 ‒325 a d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1 37 ‒37 a d 6‒ 5 a 40 400 d 1 42 ‒425 a d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ 47 475 a d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1 52 ‒52 a d 6‒ 5 a 55 550 d 57 1‒57 a d 6‒ 5 60 600 a d 1 62 ‒62 a d 6‒ 5 a 65 650 d 1 67 ‒67 a d 6‒ 5 a 70 700 d 1 72 ‒725 a d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 65 0 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22

500 Graphs of Building Work

Graphs 48–50

7 6 5 4 3 2 1 0

2 1.8 1.6 1.4 1.2 1 0.8 0.6 0.4 0.2 0

7 6 5 4 3 2 1 0 7

5

0 1

00 00 0 0 0 0 0

1

1

6

3 3

1

2

3

2

4 2

0

2

1

5

3

2 1

1 1

0 0 0 0 0

7

1

The West

1 1

0

2

1 1

2

22 2

1 1

0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Graph 48 V4a–V4d: Degradation and disuse of fora/agorai, the west

2 2

1 1

2

0 0 0 0

The East

Graph 50 V4a–V5d: Degradation and disuse of fora/agorai, east & west

1

2

2

1

1 1

0 0 0

Graph 49 V5a–V5d: Degradation and disuse of fora/agorai, the east

6

4

2

00 00 0

1

6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 65 0 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22

Graphs of Building Work

4 3.5 3 2.5 2 1.5 1 0.5 0

4 3.5 3 2.5 2 1.5 1 0.5 0

5 4.5 4 3.5 3 2.5 2 1.5 1 0.5 0 1

1

0 1

0 0 0

4

1

501

Graphs 51–53 4

2 2

1 1

0

2 2

1

1

1 1

0 0

1

1

1

1

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Graph 51 W1 : Market buildings, new / comprehensively restored

4

2 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Graph 52 W2: Market building, repaired (all types)

5 4 4 3

1

0

Graph 53 W1 and W2: Market buildings, new and repaired (all types)

0 0 0 0 0 0 0

6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 65 0 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

502 Graphs of Building Work

Graphs 54a, 54b, 55 6

1

0

4 3.5 3 2.5 2 1.5 1 0.5 0

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 0 6

5

4

3

2

1

1

0 0 0

1 1

4

2 1

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Graph 54a X1a p1 & X1b p1: Civil basilicas on f/a, new

4

1

1 1

0 0 0

1

1 1

0

1 1

0

0 0 0

1

Graph 55 X1a–X1c: Distribution of investment civil basilicas

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Graph 54b X1a p2, p3 & X1b p2: Civil basilicas on f/a, repaired

10

5

2

0 0 0 0 0 0

6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 65 0 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22

Graphs of Building Work

2 1.8 1.6 1.4 1.2 1 0.8 0.6 0.4 0.2 0 1

0 0 0 0

503

Graph 56

2

0 0 2

0 2

1

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Graph 56 X2: Sigmas plazas (semi-circular exedras with ranges of cellular rooms, unless stated otherwise)

6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22

6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22 6‒ 25 250 1‒ a 27 275 d 6‒ a 30 300 d 1‒ a 32 325 d 6‒ a 35 350 d 1‒ a 37 375 d 6‒ a 40 400 d 1‒ a 42 425 d 6‒ a 45 450 d 1‒ a 47 475 d 6‒ a 50 500 d 1‒ a 52 525 d 6‒ a 55 550 d 1‒ a 57 575 d 6‒ a 60 600 d 1‒ a 62 625 d 6‒ a 65 650 d 1‒ a 67 675 d 6‒ a 70 700 d 1‒ a 72 725 d 6‒ a 75 d 0a d

22

504 Graphs of Building Work

Graphs 57–59

8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 0

4 3.5 3 2.5 2 1.5 1 0.5 0

7 6 5 4 3 2 1 0 8 6

4

0

0 1

1 2

2

3

0

6

1

0 0 0

1

7

3 4

0

0

1

1

Graph 59 Y4–Y6: Shops on streets, new and repaired

0

1

5

1 2

2 1

4

3

1

1

2 0 0 0 0 0

Graph 57 Y1 p1–Y8: Shops, news and repaired

4

3 2 1

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Graph 58 Y1 p1–Y3: Shops on f/a, new and repaired

7

4

2

0 0 0 0 0

27 6‒ 30 300 1‒ ad 32 325 6‒ a d 35 350 1‒ a d 37 375 6‒ a d 40 400 1‒ a d 42 425 6‒ a d 45 450 1‒ a d 47 475 6‒ a d 50 500 1‒ a d 52 525 6‒ a d 55 550 1‒ a d 57 575 6‒ a d 60 600 1‒ a d 62 625 6‒ a d 65 65 0 1‒ a d 67 675 6‒ a d 70 700 1‒ a d 72 725 6‒ a d 75 0a d

Graphs of Building Work

140

120

100

80

60

40

20

0 121

72 69 108

505

Graph 60

132 93 55 28 44 53 63 63 44 24 6 3 1 0 1

Graph 60 Secular building in Late Antiquity: streets, plazas, political buildings, macella, and shops

map 1A-C

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004423824_011

Building work on monumental streets in Late Antiquity, new construction examples 1a Colonnaded streets (C2-C3); 1b Porticoes (C4-C5); 1c Street paving (C9a-C9b). Porticoes built as part of new monumental streets are not cross referenced within C4-C5.

A

C

B

Distribution Maps of Building Work

Building work on sewers (C11)

507

map 2

Distribution Maps of Building Work

map 3

Building work on water supply (C12)

508 Distribution Maps of Building Work

D C

map 4A-D Porches, new 4a Entrance porches (E1); 4b Small semi-circular recessed façades (E2); 4c Porches / Entrances set on steps (E3); 4d Piered façades (E4)

B

A

Distribution Maps of Building Work

509

D

C

map 5A-D Major decorative monuments, new 5a Tetrakionia (F1); 5b Tetrastyla (F2); 5c Tetrapyla (F3); 5d All these types alongside Cross-hall Tetrapyla that are found inside forts (F6). The Tetrakionion at ‘Anjar is marked with a star.

B

A

510 Distribution Maps of Building Work

D

C

map 6A-D Building work on arches 6a Arches, new (F7a); 6b Arches, repair (F7b+S5b); 6c Wall arches (F8a); 6d Arches as part of fortification gates (F8b)

B

A

Distribution Maps of Building Work

511

map 7A-D Building work on honorific columns 7a Honorific columns on Fora/Agorai (F9); 7b Honorific columns on streets or undetermined locations (F10); 7c Cross monuments (F11)

C

A

B

512 Distribution Maps of Building Work

D C

map 8A-D Building work on monumental fountains on streets, 4m+ wide 8a New (H1); 8b Repaired and rebuilt (H2); 8c Statuary altered (H3); 8d Street fountains, under 4m wide (H6)

B

A

Distribution Maps of Building Work

513

Statues on streets, new (H7)

Distribution Maps of Building Work

map 9

514

map 10A-B Minor streets 10a Built anew (J1); 10b Repaving and resurfacing (J3)

A

B

Distribution Maps of Building Work

515

map 11

Fora / Agorai, 4th-5th c. new building, all types, subsuming: Fora / Agorai, new (K1a); Round and oval plazas, new (K1b); Comprehensive restorations in the west (K2a); 11d Comprehensive restorations in the East (K2b)

516 Distribution Maps of Building Work

D C

map 12A-D Minor building work on Fora/Agorai, 4th-5th c. 12a Porticoes / Stoas (K4a, K4b); 12b Paving (K4d); 12c Entrances (K5); 12d Staircases (K6) (new construction examples)

B

A

Distribution Maps of Building Work

517

map 12E

Minor building work on Fora/Agorai, 4th–5th c., all types (K4a, K4b K4d, K5 K6, K7a, K7b, K7c, K8a, K8b)

518 Distribution Maps of Building Work

map 13A-B City council chambers, new and repaired 13a 4th-5th c. (L1); 13b 6th c. (S12b)

A

B

Distribution Maps of Building Work

519

map 14A-C Temples, new and rebuilt 14a 4th-5th c., West (P1); 14b 4th-5th c. East (Q1); 14c 6th c. East (T2)

520 Distribution Maps of Building Work

D

C

map 15A-D Building work on Fora/Agorai, 6th-7th c. 15a Rectangular plazas, new (S1); 15b Round plazas, new (S2); 15c Comprehensive rebuilding (S3); 15d Other works (S4 to S12b plus T1a and T2)

B

A

Distribution Maps of Building Work

521

D

C

map 16A-D Building work on commercial structures 16a Market buildings (W1, W2); 16b Civil basilicas (X1a, X1b, X1c); 16c Shops (Y1-Y8); 16d Sigma shopping plazas (X2) (new construction examples)

B

A

522 Distribution Maps of Building Work

map 17

All positive acts of civic building in Late Antiquity (excluding entries for abandonment, decay, degradation, destruction, encroachment, phases of occupation, houses, porches, churches, and synagogues, but including temples, as they were civic buildings)

Distribution Maps of Building Work

523

Tables of Architectural Measurements table 1

Monumental streets: width (in metres) Roadway Sidewalks Sidewalks Porticoes Sidewalks Overall Total N+S or E+W Total N+S or E+W

Cirencester

8.2

14.9

1

1

Carthago Nova Milan

6.9

2

2

3

5

Salona

3.4

4.6

4

8

Gorsium

6

9.5

5.5, 4

15.5

5

8

Justiniana Prima, Acropolis E-W

7.4

7.1

3.55, 3.55

14.5

6

9.1

Justiniana Prima, eastern street Justinana Prima, Lower city

7.5

8

4, 4

15.5

7

9.1

9

9.6

5, 4.6

18.6

9

9.1

Scupi

8

6.4

3.2, 3.2

14.4

8

9

Stobi

4.85

5.7

2.85, 2.85

10.55

10

10

Thessalonica

7.3

15.2

7, 8.2

30

11

10

13.1

6.55, 6.55

30.3

12

10

11.8

5.9, 5.9

25

13

11

10

5, 5

17.5

14

12

5, 3.5

26.5

15

12

Athens, Pompeion

2.5

6.7

3.35, 3.35

4.2

2.7

2.7

9.2

16.8 1.2

1.3, 1.2

0.6, 0.6

7.5

3.5, 4

5.6

2.8, 2.8

17.2

Thracian Philippopolis

7.8

Cple, Regia

7.5 4

8.4, 8.4

2, 2

5

26

Cple, Lower Mese, 6th c. phase

14

Cple, Upper Mese, Arch of Theodosius

16

16

8, 8

32

16

12

Cple, Upper Mese, secondary phase

16

15

7.5, 7.5

31

17

12

Laodicea, Syria Street

7.3

8.6

4.3, 4.3

15.9

22

13

Aizanoi

8.5

9.5

4, 5.5

18

27

13

Sardis, colonnaded street south of gymnasium street, in sector MMS/S

9

9

5, 4

18

28

13.1

14

7, 7

31

29

13.1

Sardis, colonnaded street by gymnasium

11

Ephesus, street south of upper agora

6.5

Ephesus, Marble Street

7

Ephesus, Embolos, N of Arch of Hercules Ephesus, Plateia in Coressus Ephesus, Arcadiane

6

3, 3

2.15

1.15, 1

earlier street

2.15

1, 1.15

8.65

19

13.2

4

4

13.15

21

13.2

7.5

8.5

4.5, 4

16

23

13.2

7.7

7.8

4.1, 3.7

15.5

24

13.2

11.4

9.97

4.97, 5

21.37

30

13.2 earlier street

10.5

20

13.3

19.5

26

13.3

Aphrodisias, street on west side of civil basilica

6.5

4

Aphrodisias, colonnaded street south of Tetrapylon

8.1

11.4

Sagalassos, E-W street

2.5

Sagalassos, N-S colonnaded street

8

2.3

2.3

7

3.5, 3.5

17.3

25

13.4

Antioch in Syria, main street: Justinianic rebuilding

6

4

2, 2

20

10, 10

30

35

15

Sergiopolis

7

4,4

15

38

15

Gerasa, Decumanus N

7.4

1.8

0.9, 0.9

5.3, 5.3

19.8

41

15

earlier street probably

11.65

6.35

3.175, 3.175 15.5

8, 7.5

33.5

43

15

earlier street

8

31

15.1

32

15.1

Apamea, N-S

3.9, 7.5

18

8 10.6

Zenobia

3

5

2.5, 2.5

Zenobia

3.7

6.95

3.7, 3.25

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004423824_012

10.65

earlier street

525

Tables of Architectural Measurements table 1

Monumental streets: width (in metres) (cont.) Roadway Sidewalks Sidewalks Porticoes Sidewalks Overall Total N+S or E+W Total N+S or E+W

Zenobia

5

5

2.5, 2.5

10

33

15.1

Zenobia

5

5

2.5, 2.5

10

34

15.1

Zenobia

6.63

6.67

3.33, 3.33

13.33

37

15.1

Scythopolis, Street to N gate

6.2

0.8

9.7

5, 4.7

15.9

36

15.2

Scythopolis, Palladius Street

7

4

14.5

6.5, 8

25.5

39

15.2

Scythopolis, Valley Street

7

4

12

6, 6

23

40

15.2

Jerusalem, Valley Cardo

11

12.5

6.25, 6.25

22.5

42

15.3

Jerusalem, Cardo extension

12

10.5

5.25, 5.25

22.5

44

15.3 earlier street extended

11.8

5.9, 5.9

20.6

45

16

2, 2

Ptolemais, widened section of Street of Monuments

4

Abu Mina, N-S

7

6

3, 3

13

46

16

Abu Mina, E-W

9.75

6.25

3.25, 3

16

47

16

16

6

3, 3

22

48

16

Drobeta

6

8

4, 4

14

Palmyra CoD E-W

2.7

6.6

3.3, 3.3

9.3

273–303

Palmyra CoD N-S

12.35

8.4

4.2, 4.2

20.75

273–303

Split E-W

12

11

5.5, 5.5

23

298–312

Split N-S

12

13

6.5, 6.5

25

298–312

El-Lejjūn E-W

6

8

4, 4

14

300–25

Cologne Deutz

6

6

3, 3

12

320–330

Abu Mina, SW

4.8

0.8

2.4, 2.4

Colonnaded streets (selected fort sites)

KaiserAugst

310–54

Iatrus

5

table 2

7

3.5, 3.5

13

300–25

Monumental streets: height (in metres)

Site

Columns

Colonnade height

3

Trier, Kaiserthermen, N Façade

3.35

4.1

5

Milan, San Lorenzo

7.32

11.29

6

Ostia, theatre portico

3.55

5.35

8

Salona

3.6

4.67

Regional Average

3.575

5.01

10

Philippi, Via Egnatia, S side

2.4

2.95

10

Athens, Col St by Pompeion

2.8

3.27

10

Stobi

3.5

10

Thessalonica

3.5

10

Athens, Broad St between Agorai

11

Abritus

Regional Average 12

Constantinople, Mese?

12

Constantinople, Forum of Theodosius

Upper storey

8.95

4.2 3.196

2.43

3.404

2.43

3.5 3.05

7

Height to Cornice

526

Tables of Architectural Measurements

table 2

Monumental streets: height (in metres) (cont.)

Site

Columns

12

Constantinople, Arch of Theodosius

12

Constantinople, St Sophia, Theodosian Portico

Colonnade height

Height to Cornice

10.8 5.8

6.96

Regional Average

8.9

13

Sardis, EW Street by Gymnasium

2.6

3

13

Aphrodisias, Colon st

3

4.4

13

Ephesus, Upper Embolos, W portico

3

13

Ephesus, Upper Embolos, W portico S of G of H

3

13

Ephesus, Upper Embolos, unconnected portico

3

13

Ephesus, Clivus Sacer

3

13

Ephesus, Arcadiane Original

3.5

13

Ephesus, Plateia in Coressus

3.5

13

Ephesus, Marble St

4

13

Ephesus, Alytarch Stoa

4.4

5.2

13

Aizanoi

5

5.2

13

Sagalassos, N-S colon st

4.4

13

Ephesus, Curetes Stoa

5

3

8

4.77

Regional Average

3.454545

15

Zenobia, phase 2

2.48

15

Jerusalem, Cardo Extension

3.5

15

Zenobia, phase 1

4

15

Gerasa, Decumanus N

4.55

5.4

15

Scythopolis, Palladius St

5

5.5

15

Jerusalem, Valley Cardo

5

6

15

Beirut

15

Caesarea Palestinae (Caesarea Maritima), Cardo W1

11.5

4.567143

3

4.59

5 6.5

Regional Average

4.432857

16

Abu Mina, Pilgrim’s Court

2.1

16

Alexandria (N-S street or portico on W side of small theatre, 5 ‘Theatre Street’)

16

Alexandria (N-S street R5, one half-insula west of Kom el-Dikka area)

table 3

Upper storey

5.298 6.5

5.85

Street monuments: dimensions (in metres) Length

Width

Statue size

Height no statue Height with statue

Rome, Phocas

2

22.448

25.948

Ankara

1

15.35

17.1

Cple, Goths

2

16

19.5

3

26.35

31.46

3

35.4

40.65

3

34.908

41.514

Columns

Cple, Marcian Cple, Leo Cple, Constantine Cple, Justinian

plus horse

527

Tables of Architectural Measurements table 3

Street monuments: dimensions (in metres) (cont.) Length

Width

Statue size

Height no statue Height with statue

Rome, Marcus Aurelius

43.22

Cple, Theodosius

3

47.614

52.864

Cple, Arcadius

3

47.614

52.864

Alexandria, Diocletian

4

26.56

Tetrapyla Carnunutum

16.2

16.2

6.2

6.2

Rome, Malborghetto

14.86

11.87

18

Rome, Arch of Janus

18.5

18.5

16

Thessalonica

17.27

Vienne

15

Arches Verulamium

10.97

5.18

Milan

15

8

Rome, Portugal

12.9

7

Rome, Arch of Constantine

25.9

7.4

Rome (Arcus Novus)

14.05

4.09

Sufetula

12.15

6.85

Announa

12.9

8

Thibilis (Announa), arch on eastern colonnaded street

12.3

1.5

Thibilis (Announa), dipylon

12.5

1.76

Thibilis (Announa), single-portalled arch on the main north–south road

10.9

4.16

Thubursicum Numidarum (Khamissa) (possible):

8.1

2.5

Serdica

9.4

3

Athens, Festtor Argos

22

4.3

4.8

2.7

Cple, Golden Gate of Theodosian Wall

29.34

8.35

Perge, north arch

10.25

3

Perge, south arch

18

5

Ephesus, Embolos: The Gate of Hercules

8.7

4

Xanthos (Lycia)

11.65

Anazarbos

53.7

Sergiopolis (Resafa), Arch 2

15.5

5.6

Sergiopolis (Resafa), Arch 3

14.8

5.8

Ptolemais

17.3

3.07

Qalat Seman

12.2

2.56

Caesarea Palestinae

11.6

10

Wall Arches

Abu Mina, Arch 1

8.7

Abu Mina, Arch 2

8.8

Abu Mina, Arch 3

8.4

Tetrakionia Ephesus

9.59

9.46

Aphrodisias

11

11

Apamea

16.65

16.65

8.79

10.54

10.37

12.12

528

Tables of Architectural Measurements

table 3

Street monuments: dimensions (in metres) (cont.) Length

Width

Bostra

17.2

17.2

Philippopolis

18.85

18.85

Palmyra

17.4

17.4

Zenobia

8

8

Gerasa

10.3

10.3

9.5

9.5

Aphrodisias

10.8

10.6

Ephesus, Arcadiane

11.48

11.4

Apamea

16.65

16.65

Ptolemais

9.5

9.5

Carthage

7.8

5.9

Ptolemais

Statue size

Height no statue Height with statue

13.91

15.66

11.7

12.45

6.25

8

Tetrastyla

Ephesus, Lower Agora

Nymphaea Basins Ostia, Piazza della Vittoria

23

Ostia, opposite Foro della statua eroica

11.5

Ostia, Nymphaeum Bivium

26

Timgad

4.5 2

4.5

1

Sufetula (3)

10

2.5

Cple, Forum of Theodosius

37

Ephesus, Embolos, Library

20

2.9

Ephesus, Embolos, Heroon (of Androklos)

12.5

3

Ephesus, Fountain house opposite Stadium

6.3

0.75

Aphrodisias, nymphaeum of ‘Gaudin’s gymnasium’

4.7

8.3

Aphrodisias, Agora Gate

35

8

Laodicea, Byzantine Nymphaeum

21.5

9.85

Table 4

Cellular shops: dimensions (in metres) and numbers

Appendix Region

Max dim.

Max dim.

No. in row

Largest single cellular room dimensions Y1

01BRI

Exeter

5.75

5.6

32.2

32.2

1

C3

02HIS

Carthago Nova

0

C3

05ITA

Milan

0

Y1

06ITA

Herdonia

4.1

4.3

17.63

17.63

X1D

06ITA

Herdonia, Basilica

5.5

5

27.5

27.5

4

Y1

06ITA

Herdonia, Gymnasium

4.3

4

17.2

17.2

4

Y1

06ITA

Nora

6.6

11

72.6

72.6

Y5

06ITA

Ostia, on Decumanus

9

3.5

31.5

31.5

25

Y8

06ITA

Ostia, Piazzale delle corporazioni

3.5

3

10.5

10.5

80

Y1

06ITA

Rome, Forum Romanum

K2A

07AFR Thubursicu Numidarum

2

0 2.5

3.5

8.75 0

8.75 27.235

8 17.71428571

Detail

529

Tables of Architectural Measurements Table 4

Cellular shops: dimensions (in metres) and numbers (cont.)

Appendix Region

Max dim.

Max dim.

No. in row

Largest single cellular room dimensions Y4

08PAN Gorsium-Herculia

6

6

36

36

9

Y4

09DAC Justiniana Prima, E-W street

7.3

3.9

28.47

28.47

5

Y4

09DAC Justiniana Prima, N-S street

6.3

5.2

32.76

32.76

5

C3

09DAC Scupi

C4

10MAC Athens

5.6

5.8

32.48

32.48

2

Y2

10MAC Delphi

5.1

4.4

22.44

22.44

6

S2

10MAC Dyrrachium, Round Plaza

9

5

45

45

8

C4

11THR Abritus

3.65

5.3

19.345 19.345

7

Y4

11THR Diocletianopolis

6

96

96

3

C3

11THR Thracian Philippopolis

4.6

5.7

26.22

26.22

C3

12CPL Constantinople, Lower Mese phase 2

4.75

7.1

33.725 33.725

3

C2

12CPL Constantinople, Upper Mese phase 1

2.5

4

10

2

0

16

0

1

10

16

34.76727 5.583333333

Y2

13ASI

Antioch in Pisidia

5.8

5.8

5.8

6

Y8

13ASI

Aphrodisias, Hall of Theatre Baths

3

2.3

6.9

6.9

20

Y8

13ASI

Aphrodisias, Sebasteion

3.4

3.4

11.56

11.56

17

C3

13ASI

Aphrodisias, Street by basilica

5.5

5.5

5.5

2

Y5

13ASI

Ephesus, Alytarch Stoa

5.8

7

40.6

40.6

11

Y5

13ASI

Ephesus, Domitian Street

2.7

4.3

11.61

11.61

6

Y5

13ASI

Ephesus, Lower Embolos NE side

2.5

3

7.5

7.5

2

K2B

13ASI

Ephesus, Tetragonal Agora

6.5

6

C3

13ASI

Ephesus, Upper Embolos, phase 3

0

14

C3

13ASI

Ephesus, Upper Embolos, phase1b

0

7

C3

13ASI

Ephesus, Arcadiane

C3

13ASI

Ephesus, Clivus Sacer

C3

13ASI

Ephesus, Marble Street

0

10

C3

13ASI

Ephesus, Plateia in Coressus

0

26

C3

13ASI

Ephesus, Upper Embolos

0

7

Y7

13ASI

Hierapolis

5.2

7.7

40.04

40.04

6

Y2

13ASI

Iasos

5.3

9

47.7

47.7

2

C3

13ASI

Laodicea ad Lycum

Y5

13ASI

Patara

11.88

4

Y7

13ASI

Sagalassos, E-W street by NE gate

Y2

13ASI

Sagalassos, Upper Agora, W portico

2.5

6

15

15

7

Y2

13ASI

Sagalassos, Upper Agora, W portico

4.36

3.4

14.824 14.824

Y2

13ASI

Sagalassos, Upper Agora, W portico

Y2

13ASI

Sagalassos, Lower Agora, W portico

Y2

13ASI

Sagalassos, Lower Agora, West Side

Y2

13ASI

Sagalassos, Upper Agora, W portico

2.5

6

15

15

Y4

13ASI

Sardis, E-W street

4.5

7.4

33.3

33.3

29

Y2

13ASI

Seleucia-Lyrbe

Y8

13ASI

Side, Hall of Theatre Baths

11.56

30

39

39

0 3

5

15

73

10 15

6

0 3.6

3.3

11.88 0

0 3.4

4.26

11 2

14.484 14.484 0

7 2 7

0 3.4

3.4

11.56

Detail

530 Table 4

Tables of Architectural Measurements Cellular shops: dimensions (in metres) and numbers (cont.)

Appendix Region

Max dim.

Max dim.

No. in row

Detail

Largest single cellular room dimensions Y8

13ASI

Side, Hall of Theatre Baths

4

4

16

16

12

Y5

13ASI

Tralleis

4

4

16

16

9

K1B

15ORI Bostra, Round Plaza

4.4

4.6

20.24

20.24

C3

15ORI Bostra, E-W street

5

2.9

14.5

14.5

Y6

15ORI Gerasa

3.7

2.8

10.36

10.36

3

K1B

15ORI Gerasa, Round Plaza

5.5

82.5

82.5

12

Y5

15ORI Gerasa, street leading to South Gate

3.3

3.3

3.3

4

V5D

15ORI Hippos-Sussita

2.5

3.6

9

9

V5D

15ORI Hippos-Sussita

3.6

2.5

9

9

C3

15ORI Jerusalem, Cardo extension

3.7

5.3

19.61

19.61

17

C3

15ORI Jerusalem, Secondary Cardo

3.5

4.5

15.75

15.75

13

K1B

15ORI Palmyra, Oval Plaza

4.5

5.8

26.1

26.1

8

Y5

15ORI Pella, Jordan

3.8

3

11.4

11.4

K1A

15ORI Scythopolis, ‘Byzantine agora’

3

5

15

15

25

Y5

15ORI Scythopolis, Byzantine Bazaar

4

5

20

20

20

C3

15ORI Scythopolis, Palladius Street

3.5

5.5

19.25

19.25

30

Y5

15ORI Sepphoris, Decumanus, Area 68.1

4.6

4.17

19.182 19.182

5

Y5

15ORI Sepphoris, Decumanus, Area 68.1

5

2.6

13

5

Y5

15ORI Sepphoris, Decumanus, Area 77.1

0

C4

15ORI Side, Main Street S and W of Arch

0

C3

15ORI Tiberias

3

3.6

10.8

10.8

7

B7

15ORI Zenobia, N street

3.2

4.2

13.44

13.44

5

B7

15ORI Zenobia, W street

3.8

5.4

20.52

20.52

5

0

15

0

18.9629 12.32142857

13

12

3

3

18.57642 10.41176471

S1

16AEG Abu Mina, Pilgrim’s Court

4.4

4.2

18.48

18.48

6

C3

16AEG Abu Mina, N-S Street, opposite N Baths

4.5

7

31.5

31.5

16

C3

16AEG Abu Mina, N-S Street, S section W Side

6.4

5.8

37.12

37.12

18

Y2

16AEG Cyrene, within market building

6

7

42

42 32.275

2 10.5

average

List of Places Name

North

East

Digital North Digital East

Main ancient name

Modern name in English

Abila in the Decapolis

32° 40′ 52″ 

35° 52′ 11″

32.681

35.870

Abila

In Irbid Governate, Jordan

Abitina

36° 37′ 40″

9° 32′ 56″

36.628

9.549

Abitina

Near Chouhoud elBatin, N.E. Tunisia

Abritus

43° 31′ 19.52″

26° 33′ 10.51″

43.522

26.553

Arbritus/ Arbrittus

Abthugni

36° 11′ 11″ 

10° 01′ 52″

36.187

10.031

Abthugni

40 miles S.W. of Carthage, Tunisia

Abu Mina

30° 50′ 28″

29° 39′ 47″

30.841

29.663

Abu Mina

35 miles S.W. of Alexandria, Egypt

Ad Maiores

34°45′

7°38′

34.75

7.636

Ad Maiores

Adhri’ât

32° 37′ 31″

36° 6′ 22″ 

32.625

36.106

Adrianople

41°40′

26°34′

41.667

26.567

Ailia / Aela / Ayla

29° 31′ 0″

35° 0′ 0″

29.517

Aix

43°31′35″

5°26′44″

Aizanoi

39°12′

Akören

Razgrad

Location

Razgrad, N.E. Bulgaria

Henchir Besseriani

4 miles S. of Negrine Oasis, Tunisia

Daraa

Daraa Governorate, S. Syria

Adrianople

Edirne

Edrine Province, N.W. Turkey

35

Ailia / Aela / Ayla

Aqaba

Aquaba Governorate, S.W. Jordan

43.526

5.445

Aquae Sextiae

Aix-en-Provence

S. France

29°37′

39.2

29.617

Aezani

Çavdarhisar

Çavdarhisar, Kütahya Province, Turkey

37° 27′ 14″ 

35° 26′ 45″ 

37.454

35.446

Akören

Aladağ District, Adana Province, S. Turkey

Alabanda

37°35′

27°55′

37.592

27.986

Alabanda

Doğanyurt

Doğanyurt, Aydın Province, S.W. Turkey

Alba Fucens

42° 4′ 48″

13° 24′ 32″

42.080

13.409

Alba Fucens

Massa d’Albe

Abruzzo, Italy

Albenga

44° 3′ 0″

8° 13′ 0″

44.05

8.217

Albigaunum

Albegna

Liguria, N.W. Italy

Alcester

52° 12′ 54

1° 52′ 34″ W

52.215

–1.876

Alauna

Alchester

8 miles W. of Stratford on Avon, Warwickshire, England

Alchester

51° 52′ 42″ N

1° 10′ 10″ W

51.878

–1.169

Ælia Castra

Alchester

2 miles S. of Bicester, Oxfordshire, England

Alesia

47°32′20.7″N

4°30′00.0″E

47.539

4.500

Alesia

Alise-Sainte-Reine 25 mile N.W. of Dijon, France

Alexandria

31° 11′ 52.8″

29° 55′ 9.12″

31.198

29.919

Alexandria

Kom el-Dikka

N. Egypt

Alexandria ad Issum36°35′

36°12′

36.582

36.165

Alexandria ad Issum

İskenderun

Haatay Province, S. Turkey

Al-Qahir

29° 52′ 32″ 

30.906

29.872

Al-Qahir

Buhayrah Region, N.W. of Cairo, Egypt

30° 54′ 21″ 

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004423824_013

532

List of Places

List of Places (cont.) Name

North

East

Digital North Digital East

Main ancient name

Modern name in English

Location

Althiburos

35° 52′ 24.4″

8° 47′ 12.7″

35.873

8.787

Althiburos

Amaseia

40°39′

35°49′59″

40.65

35.833

Amaseia

Amasya

Amasya Province, N. Turkey

Amida

37°58′55″

40°12′38″

37.982

40.211

Amida

Diyarbakir

Diyarbakir, Turkey

Amiens

49° 53′ 31.2″

2° 17′ 56.4″

49.892

2.299

Ambianum

Amiens

N. France

Ammaedara

35° 34′ 0″

8° 28′ 0

35.567

8.467

Ammaedara

Haïdra

Kasserine Governorate, N.W. Tunisia

Ammaia

39° 22′ 9.59″ 

7° 23′ 11.03″ W 39.369

–7.386

Ammaia

Amman

31°56′

35°56′

31.933

35.933

Philadelphia

Amphipolis

40°49′

23°51′

40.817

23.85

Amphipolis

Anaplus

41°04′05″

29°02′35″

41.068

29.043

Anaplus

Anaplous

Arnavutkoy, part of Istanbul

Anastasiapolis in Lycia

36° 39′ 5″

29° 7′ 23″

36.651

29.123

Telmessos

Fetihiye

Muğla Province, S.W. Turkey

Anastasiapolis in Mesopotamia

37° 10′ 40″

40° 56′ 28″

37.178

40.941

Dara

Anazarbos

37° 15′ 50″

35° 54′ 20″

37.264

35.906

Anazarbos

Anavarza

Adana Province, S. Turkey

Andriake

36° 14′ 50″

29° 58′ 58″

36.247

29.983

Andriake

Andriaca

Demre in Antalya province, Turkey

Anemourion

36° 01′ 27″

32° 48′ 36″

36.024

32.803

Anemourium

Anamur

Near Anamur, Turkey

Angouleme

45° 39′ 0″

0° 9′ 36″

45.65

0.16

Iculsima / Eculisna Angouleme

Anjar

33°43′33″

35°55′47″

33.726

35.930

Ankara

39° 52′ 30″

32° 49′ 59.88″

39.875

32.833

Ankara (Ancyra)

39° 56′ 0″

32° 52′ 0″

39.933

Antalya

36°54′

30°41′

Antinoopolis

27°49′

Antioch in Pisidia

6 miles S.W. of Medeina, N.W. Tunisia

Portalegre District, Portugal Amman

N. Central Jordan Serres, Central Macedonia, Greece

20 miles S.E. of Mardin, S.E. Turkey

S.W. France

Haoush Mousa

Bekka Valley, CentralEast Lebanon

Ankara

Ankara

Central Anatolia, Turkey

32.867

Ancyra

Ankara

Central Anatolia, Turkey

36.9

30.683

Attaleia

Antalya

Antalya Province, S. Turkey

30°53′

27.817

30.883

Antinoopolis

38°18′22″

31°11′21″

38.306

31.189

Antiochia

Yavlaç

Isparta Province, Central Turkey

Antioch in Syria

36°12′

36°9′

36.2

36.15

Antiochia

Antakya / Hatay

S. E. Turkey

Antiochia ad Cragum

36° 9′ 26″

32° 24′ 56″

36.157

32.416

Antiochia ad Cragum

Near Minya, Central Egypt

Güneyköy, District of Gazipaşa, Antalya Province, S. Turkey

533

List of Places

List of Places (cont.) Name

North

East

Digital North Digital East

Main ancient name

Modern name in English

Location

Antipatris

32° 6′ 18″

34° 55′ 49.5″

32.105

34.930

Antipatris

Tel Afek/ Tel Aphek

Near Haifa, Central Israel

Antiphellos

36°12′

29°38′

36.2

29.633

Antiphellos

Kaş

Kaş, Antalya Province, S.W. Turkey

Aosta

45°44′

7°19′

45.733

7.317

Augusta Prætoria Aosta Salassorum

N.W. Italy, 65 miles N.W. of Turin

Apamea in Syria

35.418°

36.398°

35.418

36.398

Apamaea

Qalaat al-Madiq

Hama Governorate, N.W. Syria

Aphrodisias

37°42′30″

28°43′25″

37.708

28.724

Aphrodisias

Geyre

Geyre, Aydin Province, S.W. Turkey

Apollonia in Illyricum

40°43′

19°28′

40.717

19.467

Apollonia

Apollonia in Palestine

32°11′42.72″

34°48′24.48″

32.195

34.807

Apollonia

Aquileia

45° 46′ 11.01

13° 22′ 16.29″

45.770

13.371

Aquileia

Aquincum

47° 33′ 51″

19° 2′ 58″

47.564

19.049

Aquincum

Arabian Philippopolis

32° 51′ 15″

36° 37′ 45″

32.854

36.629

Philippopolis

Aradi? (Bou Arada) 36° 21′ 0″ 

9° 37′ 0″

36.35

9.617

Aradi?

Arae Philenorum

30°18′0″

18°48′0″

30.3

18,8

Arae Philenorum

Ajdabiya, Libya

Argentomagus

46°36′1.40″

1°30′54.10″

46.600

1.515

Argentomagus

Mersans plateau of central France

Argos

37°37′

22°43′

37.617

22.717

Argos

Ariassos

37° 9′ 17.64″

30° 29′ 18.

37.155

30.489

Ariassos

Arif (Lycia)

36° 30′ 50″

30° 3′ 36″

36.514

30.06

Arles

43°40′36″

4°37′40″

43.677

4.628

Arelate

Arvernis/Clermont 43° 40′ 36.12″ Ferrand

4° 37′ 40.08″

43.677

4.628

Augustonemetum /Clermont-Ferrand Auvergne-Rhône-Alpes Arvernis / region, Central Arvenum France.

Arykanda

36°30′50″

30°03′36″

36.514

30.06

Arykanda

Ascalon

31°40′

34°34′

31.667

34.567

Ascalonia 

Ashkelon

Central W. Israel

Asemus

43°41′41.4″N

24°51′06.3″E

43.695

24.852

Asemus / Ansamus / Anasmus

Osamsko Kale

Cherkovitsa, near Pleven, on the Danube, N. Bulgaria

Illyria Region, Fier County, S.W. Albania Arsuf

Herzliya municipality, Israel (just N. of Tel Aviv) Udine Province, N.E. Italy

Budapest

Budapest, Central Hungary As-Suwayda Governorate, Shahba District, S. Syria

Henchir Bou Arada N. Central Tunisia

Argos

Argolis, Argos Mykines, S. Greece Antalya Province, S. W. Turkey

Arif

Aykiriçay, Antalya Province, Turkey

Arles

Bouches-du-Rhône Department, S. France

See above

534

List of Places

List of Places (cont.) Name

North

East

Digital North Digital East

Main ancient name

Aspendos

36°56′20″

31°10′20″

36.939

31.172

Aspendos

Assos

39°29′16″

26°20′13″

39.488

26.337

Assos in Bithynia Behramkale or for Ayvacık, Çanakkale short Behram Province, Turkey

Astigi

37° 32′ 0″

5° 5′ 0″ W

37.533

–5.083

Astigi

Ecija

85 km East of Seville, Spain

Athens

37°58′

23°43′

37.967

23.717

Athens

Athens

Greece

Athibris

26°31′

31°40′

26.517

31.667

Athibris

Augst

47°32′

7°43′

47.533

7.717

Augusta Raurica

Augst

Basel Landschaft Canton, N. Switzerland

Augusta Traiana

42° 26′ 0″

25° 39′ 0″

42.433

25.65

Ulpia Augusta Traiana

Stara Zagora

Central Bulgaria (AKA Beroe)

Aurgi

37 ° 46 ‘55

3 ° 47′ 13″ W

37.782

–3.787

Auringis/Aurgi

Jaén

S. Spain

Autun

46° 57′ 6.12″

4° 17′ 57.84″

46.952

4.299

Augustodunum

Autun

Saône-et-Loire department, France

Auxerre

47° 47′ 54.96″

3° 34′ 1.92″

47.799

3.567

Autissiodorum

Auxerre

Yonne Department, Burgandy, Central France

Avella

40° 57′ 36″

14° 36′ 5″

40.96

14.601

Avella Vechia

Abella

Campania, S. Italy

45.556

6.651

Axima/Forum Claudii Ceutronum

Aime

Savoie, France

Bab al Hawa

Near Reyhanli (Turkey) and Atarib (Syria)

Axima

Modern name in English

Location

Antalya Province, Turkey, 25 miles E of Antalya

Egypt

Bab al Hawa

36° 13′ 50.3″

36° 41′ 33.5″

36.231

36.693

Babylon

32° 32′ 11″ 

44° 25′ 15″ 

32.536

44.421

Babylon

Baelo Claudia

36° 5′ 23″

5° 46′ 29″ W

36.090

–5.775

Baelo Claudia

Bolonia

Bolonia, Province of Cádiz, Andalusia, Spain

Baetulo

41 ° 27 ‘8.96 “

2 ° 14′ 50.14″

41.452

2.247

Baetulo

Badalona

Badalona, Barcelona, Spain

Balboura

36° 57′ 0″

29° 35′ 0″

36.95

29.583

Balboura

Balbura

Çölkayiği, S. Turkey

Bararus

35° 12′ 43″

10° 47′ 28″

35.212

10.791

Bararus

Henchir Rougga

Sfax Governorate, S. Tunisia

Barcelona

41°23′

2°11′

41.383

2.183

Barcino

Barcelona

Catalonia, N.E. Spain

Bavai

50° 17′ 53.16″

3° 47′ 56.04″

50.298

3.799

Bagacum, BavacumBavay

Hauts de France, N. France

Bazas

44° 25′ 58.08″

0° 12′ 38.16″ W 44.433

–0.211

Civitas Vasatica

Gironde, Nouvelle Aquitaine, S.W. France

Egyptian fort near Cairo

Bazas

535

List of Places

List of Places (cont.) Name

North

East

Digital North Digital East

Main ancient name

Modern name in English

Location

Beirut

33°53′13″

35°30′47″

33.887

35.513

Berytus

Beirut

Central W. Lebanon

Belalis Major

36° 45′ 54″

9° 15′ 27″

36.765

9.258

Belalis Major

Henshir El-Fawar / Beja region of Tunisia Faouar

Beneventum

41° 8′ 0″

14° 47′ 0″

41.133

14.783

Beneventum

Benevento

Beneventum, Italy

Beroea

40° 31′ 0″

22° 12′ 0″

40.517

22.2

Berea/Baroea

Veria/Veroia

Central Macedonia, N. Greece

Beroea in Syria

36°13′

37°10′

36.217

37.167

Beroea

Aleppo

Jabal Semaan, N. Syria

Bologna

44° 30′ 27″ 

11° 21′ 5″

44.508

11.351

Bononia

Bologna

Emilia-Romagna Region, N. Italy

Bordeaux

44°50′19″

0° 34′ 41.88″ W 44.839

–0.578

Bordeaux

Bordeaux

Nouvelle-Aquitaine, Gironde, W. France

Bostra/Bosra

32°21′

36°29′

32.517

36.483

Bostra

Busra al-Sham

Daraa District, S. Syria

Brescia

45°32′

10°14′

45.533

10.233

Brixia

Brescia

Lombardy, N. Italy

Bulla Regia

36° 33′ 31.21″

8° 45′ 17.95″

36.559

8.755

Bulla Regia

Butrint

39° 44′ 46″

20° 1′ 13″

39.746

20.020

Buthrotum

Butrint

Vlorë County, S. Albania

Byllis

40° 32′ 25.08″

19° 44′ 15″

40.540

19.738

Bullis/Boulis

Byllis

Hekal, Fier County, S. Albania

Caerwent

51° 36′ 40.68″

2° 46′ 6.24″ W

51.611

–2.768

Venta Silirum

Caerwent

Monmouthshire, Gwent, S. Wales

Caesarea in Cappadocia

38°44′

35°29′

38.733

35.483

Caesarea in Cappadocia

Kayseri

Kayseri Provinve, Central Anatolia, Turkey

Caesarea Palestinae 32°30′00″

34°53′59′

32.499

34.891

Caesarea Palestinae

Caesarea Maritima in Sdot Yam, 30 miles N of Tel Aviv

Caesarea Philippi

33° 14′ 46″

35° 41′ 36″

33.246

35.693

Paneas

Caistor

53° 29′ 38.4″

0° 19′ 19.2″ W

53.494

–0.322

Venta Icenorum

Caistor

Near Caistor St Edmund, Norfolk, England

Calama

36° 28′ 2.33″

7° 25′ 48.19″

36.467

7.430

Calama

Guelma

Guelma Province, N.E. Algeria

Cambodunum

47° 44′ 0″

10° 19′ 0″

47.733

10.317

Cambodunum

Kempten (Germany)

Swabia, Bavaria, S. Germany

Canterbury

51° 16′ 30″

1° 5′ 13.2″

51.275

1.087

Durovernum Cantiacorum

Canterbury

Kent, S.E. England

Caput Vada

35° 14′ 14″

11° 6′ 54″

35.237

11.115

Caput Vada

Ras Kabouchia

Headland 3km E of Chebba, Tunisia, coordinates for Chebba

Carlisle

54° 53′ 42″

2° 56′ 13.2″W

54.895

–2.937

Luguvalium

Carlisle

Carlisle, Cumbria, England

Near Jendouba, N. Tunisia

Golan Heights, S. Syria / N. Israel

536

List of Places

List of Places (cont.) Name

North

East

Digital North Digital East

Main ancient name

Modern name in English

Location

Carnuntum

48°07′

16°52′

48.117

16.867

Carnuntum

Pannonia Superior, Lower Austria, E. Austria

Carsulae

42° 38′ 23.25″ 

12° 33′ 25.75″

42.640

12.557

Carsulae

Terni, Umbria, Central Italy

Carteia

36° 11′ 7.88″

5° 24′ 29.89″

36.186

–5.408

Carteia

San Roque, Province of Cádiz, Andalusia, Spain

Carthage

36°51′29″

10°19′51″

36.858

10.331

Carthago

Tunis Governorate, N.E. Tunisia

Carthago Nova

37°36′

0° 59′ 0″ W

37.6

–0.983

Carthago Nova

Cartagena

Murcia, S.E. Spain

Castra Porphyreion 32 ° 47′59 ″

34 ° 57′34 ″

32.800

34.960

Castra Poprhyrion Kfar Samir

Near Haifa, Israel

Castrum Divitia 50° 56′ 17″ (Cologne Deutz)

6° 57′ 25″

50.935

6.988

Castellum Deutz

Cologne Deutz

North RhineWestphalia, Central West Germany

Catania

37° 30′ 0″

15° 5′ 25″

37.5

15.090

Catania

Catania

Sicily

Celeia

46° 14′ 9″

15° 16′ 3″

46.236

15.268

Celeia

Celja

Central Slovenia

Celti

5° 20′ 47″ W

37° 42′ 26″

37.707

–5.346

Celti

Peñaflor

Baetica, Seville Province, S. Spain

Cercadilla

37° 53′ 15″

4° 47′ 32″ W

37.888

–4.792

Cercadilla

Córdoba Province, S. Spain 

Chalcedon

40° 59′ 0″ 

29° 2′ 0″

40.983

29.033

Chalcedon

Kadıköy

Eastern Istanbul

Cherson

44°36′42″

33°29′36″

44.612

33.493

Chersonesus

Chichester

50° 50′ 11.4″

0° 46′ 45.12″ W 50.837

–0.779

Noviomagus Reginorum

Chusira/Kessera

35° 49′ 0″

9° 22′ 0″

35.814

9.365

Chusira / Kessera Kesera or Kesra

Tunisia

Cibyra Maior

37 ° 9 ‘36.46

29 ° 29′ 21.17″

37.160

29.489

Kibyra

N.W. of Gölhisar, Burdur Province, S.W. Turkey

Cillium

35°10′

8°50′

35.167

8.833

Cillilana

Kasserine

Kasserine Governorate, W. Tunisia

Cimiez

43° 43′ 3″

7° 16′ 30″

43.718

7.275

Cemenelum?

Cimiez

Nice, S. France

Cirta Constatina

36°21′

6°36′

36.35

6.6

Cirta Constantina Constantine

Civitas A........ (Ksar 35° 51′ 38″ Mdoudja)

9° 12′ 21″

35.861

9.206

Civitas Furc…

36° 32′ 49″

10° 22′ 50″

36.380

10.381

Classe

44°22′49″

12°13′59″

44.380

12.233

Sevastopol, Crimea, Ukraine / Russia Chichester

W. Sussex, S.E. England

Constantine Province, N.E. Algeria

Ksar Mdoudja

Siliana Governorate, N. Tunisia

Civitas Furc…

Henchir Ben Hassen

Near Tubernuc in Tunisia

Classe

Ravenna

2.5 miles E. of Ravenna, Italy

537

List of Places

List of Places (cont.) Name

North

East

Digital North Digital East

Main ancient name

Modern name in English

Location

Clermont / Arvenis 45°46′59″

3°04′57″

45.783

3.082

Arvernis

Clermont-Ferrand Auvergne-RhôneAlpes, Central France

Colle San Pietro, Tuscania

42°24′46.1″N

11°52′44.2″E

42.413

11.879

Tuscania

Tuscania

Cologne

50° 56′ 17″ 

6° 57′ 25″

50.938

6.957

Colonia Cologne Claudia Ara Agrippinensium

North Rhine Westphalia, W. Germany

Cologne Deutz

50° 56′ 5″

6° 59′ 16″ 

50.935

6.988

Colonia Cologne Deutz Claudia Ara Agrippinensium

Central Cologne

Complutum

40 ° 28 ‘25

3 ° 23′ 3″ W

40.474

–3.384

Complutum

Alcalá de Henares Community of Madrid, Spain

Conimbriga

40°05′58″

8°29′36″W

40.099

–8.493

Conimbriga

Coimbriga

Constantina in Mesopotamia

37° 13′ 44.48″

39° 45′ 20.99″

37.229

39.756

Constantia and many names

Near Viranşehir, Şanlıurfa Province, S.E. Turkey

Constantinople

41° 0′ 44.06″

28° 58′ 33.67″

41.012

28.976

Constantinople / Istanbul Byzantium

Isatnbul, Turkey

Corduba

37°53′00″

4° 46′ 0″ W

37.883

–4.767

Corduba

Córdoba

Andalusia, S. Spain

Corinth

37° 54′ 19.25″

22° 52′ 48.69″

37.905

22.880

Corinth

Corinth

3 miles S.W. of modern Corinth

Cosa

42° 24′ 39.31″

11° 17′ 11.41″

42.411

11.287

Cosa

Ansedonia, S. Tuscany, Italy

Cremna

37°30′00.50″

30°41′27.96″

37.500139,

30.691

Cremna

Burdur Province, Anatlaya, Turkey,

Cuicul

36° 19′ 0″ 

5° 44′ 0″

36.317

5.733

Cuicul

Djémila

Sétif Province, N. Algeria

Cumae

40° 50′ 55″

14° 3′ 13″

40.849

14.054

Cumae

Cuma

Cuma, Province of Naples, Campania, Italy

Cures

42° 13′ 0″ 

12° 44′ 0″

42.217

12.733

Cures Sabini

26 miles from Rome at Fara Sabina, Italy

Cyrene

32° 49′ 30″

21° 51′ 29″

32.825

21.858

Cyrene

Shahhat, Jabal al Akhdar, Cyrenaica, Libya

Daʽǧâniŷa / Daganiya / Daʽjāniya

30° 34′ 54″

35° 47′ 49.4″

30.582

35.797

Damascus

33° 30′ 46.8″

36° 17′ 31.2″

33.513

36.292

Daphne near Antioch

36° 12′ 19.8″

36° 10′ 18.5″

36.206

Delos

37° 23′ 36″

25° 16′ 16″

37.393

Tuscania, Province of Viterbo, Italy

Coimbra, Baixo Mondego, Centro, Portugal

Daʽǧâniŷa / Daganiya / Daʽjāniya

41 km N. of Ma’an in Jordan

Damascus

Damascus

S. Syria

36.172

Daphne

Antakya / Hatay

Near Antioch, S. Turkey

25.271

Delos

Island in the Cyclades, Greece

538

List of Places

List of Places (cont.) Name

North

East

Digital North Digital East

Main ancient name

Modern name in English

Location

Delphi

38°29′

22°30′

38.483

22.5

Delphi

Delphi

Phocis, Greece

Diana Veteranorum 35°46′46″

6°04′31

35.779

6.075

Diana Veteranorum

Zana Ouled Sabaa

Batna Province, N. Algeria

Didyma

37° 23′ 6″ 

27° 15′ 23″

37.385

27.256

Didyma

Didim

Didim, Aydin Province, S.W. Turkey

Dinogetia

45° 22′ 44.29″

28° 8′ 19.64″

45.379

28.139

Dinogetia

42.5

24.7

Diocletianopolis

Dion

24°42′ List of Places (cont.) 40° 10′ 0″ 22° 29′ 0″

40.167

22.483

Dion

Dionysias

29°24′21.4″N

30°25′16.1″E

29.406

30.421

Dionysias

Qasr Qaroun

Faiyum Governorate, Egypt

Dobrika

44°54′33.9″N

13°45′20.8″E

44.909

13.756

Dobrika

Dobrica

Brionska ul. 10, 52203, Fažana, Croatia

Doliche in Mesopotamia

37° 9′ 0″

37° 22′ 0″

37.15

37.367

Doliche

Dülük

Gazientep Province, S. Turkey

Dor

32°36′26.63″

34°55′19.19″

32.617

34.916

Dora

Tel Dor

Tel Dor, Israel

Drobeta

44° 34′ 0″

22° 40′ 0″

44.567

22.667

Drobeta

Drobeta-Turnu Severin

Mehedinți County, S. Romania

Dura Europos

34° 44′ 49.2″

40° 43′ 48″

34.747

40.73

Dura Europos

Dyrrachium

41° 19′ 0″

19° 27′ 0″

41.317

19.45

Durrachium

Durrës

Durrës County, Central W. Albania

Éauze

43° 51′ 44.28″

0° 6′ 7.2″

43.862

0.102

Elusa

Éauze

Gers, Occitaine, S.W. France

Edessa

37°09′

38°48′

37.15

38.8

Edessa

Urfa

Şanlıurfa Province, S. Turkey

Egnatia

40° 53′ 16.07″

17° 23′ 27.97″

40.888

17.391

Egnatia

Gnatia

Fasano, Province of Brindisi, Apulia, Italy

Elaiussa Sebaste

36°29′01″

34°10′25″

36.484

34.174

Elaiussa Sebaste

Elis

37° 48′ 0″

21° 21′ 0″

37.8

21.35

Elis

el-Lejjūn

32° 34′ 29″

35° 10′ 40″

32.575

35.178

Legio Lajjun Maximianopolis

Karak Governorate, Jordan

Elusa

43° 51′ 44″

0° 6′ 7″ 

43.862

0.103

Elusa

Eauze

Gers Department, S.W. France

Emesa

34°43′51″

36°42′34″

34.731

36.709

Emesa

Homs

Homs Governorate, W. Syria

Emona

46° 2′ 51.7″

14° 30′ 3.32″

46.048

14.501

Aemona / Colonia Julia Aemona

Empúries

42° 8′ 5″

3° 7′ 14″

42.135

3.121

Emporiae

Diocletianopolis

42°30′

8 km E of Galati, Roumania Hisarya in Bulgaria Plodiv Province, Bulgaria Pieria., Central Macedonia, Greece

Near Salhiyah, E. Syria

Mersin Province, S. Turkey Elis was a region and city

8 km N.E. of Amaliada, W. Greece

Italia Province, Central Slovenia Alt Empordà

Alt Empordà, Province of Girona, Catalonia, Spain

539

List of Places

List of Places (cont.) Name

North

East

Digital North Digital East

Main ancient name

Modern name in English

Location

Ephesus

37°56′28″

27°20′31″

37.941

27.342

Ephesus

Selçuk

Selçuk, İzmir Province, Turkey

Epidauros

37°38′

23°8′

37.633

23.133

Epidauros

Epidaurus

Argolis, Peloponnese, S. Greece

Exeter

50°43′

3°32′W

50.717

–3.533

Isca DumnoniorumExeter

Devon, S.W. England

Falerii Novi

42° 17′ 59.64

12° 21′ 31.96″

42.300

12.359

Falerii Novi

35 miles N of Rome, Tiber Valley, Italy

Felix Romuliana

43° 53′ 57″

22° 11′ 6″

43.899

22.185

Felix Romuliana

Gamzigrad

Near Gamzigradska Banja, Zaječar, Serbia

Ferentino

41°41′

13°15′

41.683

13.25

Ferentium

Ferentino

Frosinine, Lazio, Italy

Florence

43°47′

11°15′

43.783

11.25

Florentia

Florence

Tuscany, Italy

Forum Traiani

40° 0′ 0″

8° 49′ 0″

40

8.817

Forum Traiani

Fordongianus

Oristano Province, Sardinia, Italy

Gabala

35° 21′ 0″

35° 55′ 0″

35.35

35.917

Gabala

Jabaleh

c.a. 12 miles S. of Latakia, Syria

Gabu Iunes

20 miles East of Cyrene, Cyrenaica, Libya

Umm Qais

Bani Kinanah, Irbid, N.W. Jordan

Gabu Iunes

32.809071, 22.045777

Gadara

32°39′

35°41′

32.656

35.678

Gadara

Galata in Cple

41° 1′ 22″

28° 58′ 25″

41.023

28.974

Gaza

31°31′

34°27′

31.517

34.45

Gaza

Gaza

Gaza governorate, E. Palestine

Geneva

46°12′

6°09

46.2

6.15

Geneva

Geneva

Geneva Canton, Switzerland

Gerasa

32°16′20.21″

35°53′29.03″

32.272

35.891

Gerasa

Jerash

Jerash Governorate, N. Jordan

Gerona

41° 59′ 4″

2° 49′ 16″

41.984

2.821

Gerunda

Girona

Catalonia, Spain

Ghardimaou

36°27′

8°26′

36.45

8.433

Ghardimaou

Jendouba Governorate, N.W. Tunisia

Glanum

43°46′26″

4°49′57″

43.774

4.833

Glanum

Gloucester

51° 52′ 12″

2° 14′ 24″ W

51.87

–2.24

Gloucester

Gorsium

47 ° 5 ′ 23

18° 25′ 13

4,708,972

18.420

Gorsium-Herculia Tác

Tác, Hungary

Gortyn

35°0′

24°58′

35

24.967

Gortyna

Heraklion Region, Crete, Greece

Grumentum

40° 17′ 2″

15° 54′ 22″

40.284

15.906

Grumentum

Grumento Nova, Potenza, Basilicata, S. Italy

AKA Pera, Syka, Sycae

Near Saint-Rémy-deProvence, France Glevum Colonia

Gloucestershire, S.W. England

540

List of Places

List of Places (cont.) Name

North

East

Digital North Digital East

Main ancient name

Hadrianopolis in Paphlagonia

40° 55′ 33″ 

32° 29′ 29″

40.926

32.491

Hadrianopolis

Hadrumetum

35°49′28″

10°38′20″

35.824

10.639

Hadrumetum

Hebdomon

40° 58′ 59″

28° 51′ 13″

40.983

28.854

Hebdomon

Henchir El Goussa 36° 03′

8° 33′

34.591

9.209

Henchir El Goussa Central Tunisia

Henchir Tout el Kaya

36° 53′ 4.5″

9° 28′ 3″

36.885

9.468

Henchir Tût

Heraclea ad Latmum

37° 29′ 51.32″

27° 31′ 37.45″

37.498

27.527

Heraclea ad Latmum

Near Kapikiri, Turkey

Heraeum

41° 1′ 26.2″

27° 44′ 31.3″

41.024

27.742

Heraeum

Near Aytepe, Istanbul region, Turkey

Hercleia am Latmos 37°29′53.19″

27°31′36.51″

37.498

27.526

Hercleia am Latmos

Herakleia (Latmus)

Turkish province of Muğla on Bafa Lake, same as above

Herculaneum

40° 48′ 21.6″

14° 20′ 53.52″

40.806

14.348

Herculaneum

Ercolano

Ercolano, Campania, Italy

Herdonia

41°19′

15°38′

41.317

15.633

Herdonia

Ordona

Coordinates are for nearby Ordona

Hermopolis Magna 27°46′53″

30°48′14″

27.781

30.804

Hermopolis Magna

El Ashmunein, Minya, Upper Egypt

Hierapolis (Castabala)

37° 10′ 38.75″

36° 11′ 14.78″

37.177

36.187

Hierapolis

Kırmıtlı, Osmaniye Province, S. Turkey

Hierapolis (Mesopotamia)

36° 31′ 41″ N

37° 57′ 17″ E

36.528

37.955

Hierapolis

Manbij

Aleppo governorate, Syria

Hierapolis in Phrygia

37° 55′ 30″

29° 7′ 33″

37.925

29.126

Hierapolis

Pamukkale

Pamukkale, Denizli Province, Turkey

Hierapolis in Syria 36°32′

37°57′

36.533

37.95

Hierapolis Euphratensis

Coordinates are for Manbij, 20 km N

Hiereia

40° 58′ 22.7″

29° 2′ 36.7″

40.973

29.044

Hiereia

A palace opposite Constantinople

Hippo Regius

36° 54′ 0″

7° 46′ 0″

36.9

7.767

Hippo Regius

Annaba Province, N.E. Algeria

Hippos / Sussita

32° 46′ 44″

35° 39′ 34″

32.779

35.659

Hippos / Sussita

Golan Heights, N. Israel

Histria

44°32′51″

28°46′29″

44.548

28.775

Histria

S.E. Romania, in Dobruja region

Housesteads

55° 0′ 46.8″

2° 19′ 51.6″ W

55.013

–2.331

Vercovicium

Huarte

N 35°30′57″

E 36°25′57″

35.516

36.433

Hypaipa

38° 13′ 52″

27° 58′ 19″

38.231

27.972

Hypaipa / Hypaepa

Modern name in English

Location

3 km west of modern Eskipazar N. Turkey Sousse

Sousse Governorate, N.E. Tunisia Bakırköy, European Istanbul, Turkey

N. Tunisia

Housesteads

Hexham, Northumberland, England

Hawarte

Idlib Province, Syria 4 km N.W. Ödemiş, Izmir Province, W. Turkey

541

List of Places

List of Places (cont.) Name

North

East

Digital North Digital East

Main ancient name

Modern name in English

Location

Iasos

37°16′40″

27°35′11″

37.278

27.586

Iasos

Iatrus

43° 37′ 54″

25° 33′ 47″

43.632

25.563

Iatrus

Fort Iatrus

Near mouth of Jantra river Bulgaria

Iesso

41 ° 47 ‘15.62 “

1° 17′ 23.67″

41.788

1.290

Iesso

Guissona

Guissona, La Sagarra, Catalonia, Spain

Igilgili (Djidjelli)

36° 49′ 0″

5° 46′ 0″

36.817

5.767

Igilgili

now Jijel

Jijel Province, N.E. Algeria

Ilchester

51° 0′ 3.6

2° 40′ 55.2″ W

51.001

–2.682

Lindinis

Ilchester

Located 5 miles N of Yeovil, S.W. England

Ilici

38°16′1″

0°41′54″W

38.267

–0.698

Ilici

Elche

Province of Alicante, Spain

Iluro

41° 32′ 0″

2° 27′ 0″

41.533

2.45

Iluro

Mataro

In Catalonia, Spain

Iol Caesarea

36°36′36″

2°11′48″

36.61

2.197

Iol Caesarea

Cherchel

Algeria

Irchester

52° 16′ 41.88″

0° 39′ 19.8″ W

52.278

–0.656

Irchester

Chester farm is 6 km N. coordinates for Irchester

Isernia

41° 36′ 0″ 

14° 14′ 0″

41.6

14.233

Aesernia

Isernia

Isernia Province, Molise, Central Italy

Isola Sacra

41°45′

12°15′

41.75

12.25

Isola Sacra

Isola Sacra

Comune di Fiumicino, Lazio, Italy

Italica

37° 26′ 38″

6° 2′ 48″ W

37.444

–6.047

Italica

Province of Seville, S.W. Spain

Jerusalem

31°47′

35°13′

31.783

35.217

Aelia Capitolina Jerusalem / Ierousalēm / Hierosolyma

E. Israel and W. Palestine

Justiniana Prima

42°57′11.69″

21°40′11.90″

42.953

21.670

Justiniana Prima

Near Lebane, S. Serbia

Kadyanda

36° 42′ 55.44″

29° 14′ 9.2″

36.715

29.236

Kadyanda

Kairouan

35°40′

10°06

35.667

10.1

Kaiseraugst

47°33′

7°44′

47.55

7.733

Augusta Raurica

Augst

Rheinfelden, Aargau, N. Switzerland

Kastron Mefa

31° 30′ 2.83″

35° 55′ 12.95″

31.501

35.920

Kastron Mefa’a

Umm ar-Rasas

Central Jordan

Kaunos

36°49′35°

28°37′17″

36.826

28.621

Caunus

Kelenderis

36° 8′ 39″

33° 19′ 22

36.142

33.323

Kelenderis

Kenchester

52° 4′ 51.6″ N

2° 49′ 4.8″ W

52.081

–2.822

Kıyıkışlacık, Muğla Province, Turkey

Caričin Grad

12 miles N.E. of Fethiye, Muğla Province, S.W. Turkey Kairouan

Dalyan, Muğla Province, S.W. Turkey Aydincik

District of Aydincik, Mersin, S. Turkey

Kenchester

Near Kenchester, Herefordshire, England

542

List of Places

List of Places (cont.) Name

North

East

Digital North Digital East

Main ancient name

Modern name in English

Location

Knidos

36°41′9″

27°22′30″

36.686

27.375

Knidos

Kokousos

38° 1′ 16″ 

36° 29′ 30″

38.021

36.492

Kokousos

Göksun

Kahramanmaras Province, S. Turkey

Kom-el-Dikka

31° 11′ 48.07″

29° 54′ 20.3″

31.197

29.906

Kom el-Dik

Kom el-Dikka

Alexandria, N. Egypt

Kopanos

40° 38 06″ 

22° 07′ 49″ 

40.635

22.130

Kopanos

Central Macedonia, Greece

Korycos

36° 27′ 55″

34° 9′ 15″

36.465

34.154

Korycos

Mersin Province, S. Turkey

Kyaneai

36° 15′ 3″

29° 48′ 20″

36.251

29.806

Kyaneai

AKA Cyaneae, in S.E. Turkey

Lambaesis

35°29′20″

06°15′21″

35.489

6.256

Lambeisis

Laodicea ad Lycum 37° 50′ 9″ 

29° 6′ 27″

37.836

29.108

Laodicea ad Lycum

Laodicea in Syria

35° 31′ 0″ 

35° 47′ 0″

35.517

35.783

Laodicea

Latakia

N.W. Syria

Leges Maiores

35° 4′ 7″

7° 23′ 45″

35.069

7.396

Leges Maiores

Henchir Gousset

N.E. Algeria

Leicester

52° 38′ 5.64″

1° 8′ 28.68″ W

52.635

–1.141

Ratae Leicester Corieltauvorum

E. Midlands, England

Lepcis / Lepcis Magna

32°38′21″

14°17′26″

32.639

14.291

Leptis Magna

Tripolantia, Khoms, N.W. Libya

Leptiminus

35° 40′ 40″

10° 52′ 0″ 

35.678

10.867

Leptiminus / LeptisLamta Parva

Lamta. Monastir governorate, Tunisia

Letoon

36°19′55″

29°17′23″

36.332

29.290

Letoon

Kumluova, Muğla Province, S.W. Turkey

Lilybaeum

37° 48′ 0″

12° 26′ 0″

37.8

12.433

Lilybaeum

Limyra

36°20′34.19″

30°10′13.87″

36.343

30.171

Limyra

Lycia, Antalya Province, S.W. Turkey

Lincoln

53° 14′ 2″

0° 32′ 17″ W

53.234

–0.538

Lindum Colonia

Lincoln, Lincolnshire, England

London

51° 30′ 26″

0° 7′ 39″ W

51.507

–0.128

Londinium Augusta

Lorsch

49° 39′ 14″ 

8° 34′ 3″

49.654

8.568

Lucus Feroniae

42° 7′ 46.98″

12° 35′ 48.74″

42.130

12.597

Lucus Feroniae

Capena, Lazio, Italy

Luni

44°04′

9°59′

44.067

9.983

Luna

Liguria, N.W. Italy

Luxor

25° 41′ 0″ 

32° 39′ 0″

25.683

32.65

Thebai, Thebae

Luxor

Luxor, Egypt

Lycopolis

31°5′

30°57′

31.083

30.95

Lycopolis

Lycopolis (Delta)

Nile Delta, N. Egypt

Muğla Province, Turkey

Lambaesis

Near Tazoult, Algeria Denizli, Denizli Province, Turkey

Lebida or Lebda

Marsala

London

Trapali, W. Sicily, Italy

S.E. England Bergstraße District, Hessen, Germany

543

List of Places

List of Places (cont.) Name

North

East

Digital North Digital East

Main ancient name

Modern name in English

Location

Lyon

45° 45′ 35″

4° 49′ 10″

45.760

4.819

Lugdunum

Lyon

Auvergne-RhôneAlpes, Lyon, France

Ma’an

30° 11′ 36″

35° 44′ 0″

30.193

35.733

Ma’an

Near modern Ma’an, S.E. Jordan

35.980

6.599

Macomades

Macomades

Merkeb-Talha, Algeria

Mactaris

35°51′38″

9°12′21″

35.861

9.206

Mactaris

Maktar

Siliana Governorate, N. Tunisia

Madaba

31°43′

35°48′

31.717

35.8

Madaba

Madab

Madaba Governorate, W. Jordan

Madaura

36°4.6′

7°49.2′

36.077

7.82

Madaura

M’Daourouch

Souk Ahras Province, N.E. Algeria

Madauros

36° 4′ 36″

7° 49′ 12″

36.077

7.82

Madauros

Same as Madaura

Magnesia on the Meander

37°51′10″

27°31′38″

37.853

27.527

Magnesia ad Meandrum

Tekin, Aydin Province, S.W. Turkey

Maiumas

31° 31′ 0″

34° 27′ 0″

31.517

34.45

Maiumas

Malborghetto

42°03′08.0″N

12°29′13.0″E

42.052

12.487

Marseilles

43° 17′ 47.04″

5° 22′ 12″

43.296

5.37

Mazor

32° 2′ 47.4″

34° 56′ 45.96″

32.047

34.946

Medjez el Bab

36°38′37″

9°36′15″

36.644

9.604

Membressa

Megalopolis

37°24′

22°8′

37.4

22.133

Megalopolis

Peloponnese Region, S. Greece

Megara

39° 0′ 0

23° 20′ 0″

39

23.333

Megara

W. Attica, Greece

Melitene

38°21′

38°18′

38.35

38.3

Melitene

37.284

30.550017,15 Melli

Melli

Massalía

el Mineh

Near Rimal, Gaza City, Palestine

Malborghetto

Via Barlassina, 1, 00188 Roma RM, Italy

Marseilles

Bouches-du-Rhône Department, S. France

Mazor

Central Israel

Majaz al Bab

Béja Governorate, N. Tunisia

Malatya

Malatya, E. Anatolia, Turkey Melli, Bucak, Turkey

Messene

37°10′

21° 55′ 12″ 

37.175

21.92

Messene

Ancient Messene

Metapontum

40° 23′ 0″

16° 49′ 28″

40.383

16.824

Metapontum

Metaponto, Province of Matera, Basilicata, S. Italy

Metropolis

38° 7′ 30″

27° 19′ 21″

38.125

27.323

Metropolis

Yeniköy, Izmir Province, S.E.Turkey

Mididi

35° 48′ 23″

9° 3′ 26″

35.806

9.057

Mididi

Milan

45°27′51″

09°11′25″

45.467

9.183

Mediolanum

Henchir Medded

Messenia, Peloponnese, S. Greece

Silana Province, N. Tunisia Lombardy, N. W. Italy

544

List of Places

List of Places (cont.) Name

North

East

Digital North Digital East

Main ancient name

Modern name in English

Location

Miletus

37°31′49″

27°16′42″

37.530

27.278

Miletus

Miletos

Balat, Didim, Aydın Province, S.W. Turkey

Minturno

41° 14′ 31.″

13° 46′ 5.″

41.242

13.768

Miturnae

Minturno

Latina, Lazio, Italy

Mokissos

38°11′08″

34°12′26″

38.186

34.207

Mokissos

S. of Mount Hasan Dag, Turkey

Monte Iato

37° 58′ 2″

13° 11′ 49″

37.967

13.197

Iatas

Near San Cipirello, N.W. Sicily

Montmaurin

43° 13′ 30″

0° 38′ 17.16″

43.225

0.638

Mopsuestia

36° 57′ 28″

35° 37′ 26″

36.958

35.624

Municipium … lense (Henchir El-Abiod)

35°24′

8°7′

35.4

8.117

Mustis

36° 24′ 36″

9° 4′ 59.88″

36.41

9.083

Muzuc

36° 1′ 33″

9° 48′ 1″

36.026

9.800

Myra

36°15′47″

29°58′37″

36.259

29.985

Myra

Demre

Demre, Antalya Province, S.W. Turkey

Mytilene (Lesbos) 39° 6′ 0″

26° 33′ 0

39.1

26.55

Mytilene

Mytilene

Island of Lesbos, N. Aegean Region, Greece

Nag al Hagar

24° 13′ 34

32° 51′ 29

24.226

32.858

Nag al Hagar

Near Kom Ombo, Aswan Governorate, Upper Egypt

Naples

40°50′42″

14°15′30″

40.845

14.258

Neapolis

Campania, S. Italy

Narbonne

43° 11′ 0.96″

3° 0′ 15.12″

43.184

3.004

Narbo Martius

Aude, Occitaine, S. France

Nauplion

37° 34′ 0″

22° 48′ 0″

37.567

22.8

Nauplion

Napflio

Argolio, Peloponnese, S. Greece

Nazianzus

38°23′40″

34°22′53″

38.394

34.381

Nazianzus

Nenizi

E. of Aksary, Central Turkey

Nesactium

44° 55′ 0″

13° 58′ 11″ 

44.917

13.970

Nesactium

Nessana

30° 52′ 34.03″

34° 25′ 58.2

30.876

34.433

Nessana

Nitzana

Southern Israel, co-ordinates are for Nitzana

Nicaea

40°25.74′

29°43.17′

40.429

29.720

Nicaea

Iznik

Bursa Province, N.W. Turkey

Nicomedia

40°46′

29°55′

40.767

29.917

Nicomedia

Izmit

Kocaeli Province, N.W. Turkey

25°36′40″

43.217

25.611

Nicopolis ad Istrum

Nikiup

6 miles N. of Veliko Tarnova, N. Bulgaria

Nicopolis ad Istrum 43°13′02″

Saint-Gaudens, HauteGaronne, S. France Mopsuestia

Cilicia, Adana province, S. Turkey Henchir El-Abiod Near Tébessa, Tunisia. coordinates for Tébessa

Mustis

Mest Henshir

8 mile from Dougga, N. Tunisia At Henchir Krachnoum, Tunisia

S. Istria, Croatia

545

List of Places

List of Places (cont.) Name

North

East

Digital North Digital East

Main ancient name

Modern name in English

Location

Nicopolis in Epirus 39° 0′ 30″

20° 44′ 1″

39.008

20.734

Actia Nicopolis

Nikiu

30° 24′ 44″

30° 51′ 13″

30.412

30.854

Nikiu

Zawyat Razin

Nile Delta, may also be Nakius

Nisibis

37° 4′ 43″

41° 13′ 5″

37.079

41.218

Nisibis

Nusaybin

Mardin Province, S.E. Turkey

Nola

40°55′33″

14°31′43″

40.926

14.529

Nola

Nola

Near Naples, S. Italy

Nora

38° 59′ 4.87″

9° 0′ 57.1″

38.985

9.016

Nora

Near Pula, Cagliari, S. Sardinia

Novae

43°37′

25°21′

43.617

25.35

Novae

3 miles E. of Svishtov, N. Bulgaria

Nursia

42° 47′ 36″

13° 5′ 38″

42.793

13.094

Nursia

Nysa

37°54′06″

28°08′48″

37.902

28.147

Nysa

Nyssa

38° 57′ 15.46″ 

33° 57′ 33.22″

38.954

33.959

Oenoanda

36° 48′ 33″

29° 32′ 59″

36.809

29.550

Oenoanda / Oinoanda

İncealiler

Oinoe (Kambos)

37°37′40.5″N

26°09′36.8″E

37.628

26.160

Oinoe

Kambos / Kampos Kampos, Ikaria, Greece

Olympia

37° 38′ 16.8″ 

21° 37′ 48″

37.638

21.63

Olympia

Olympia

Elis Region, W. Greece

Olympos

36°23′48″

30°28′23″

36.397

30.473

Olympos

Çıralı

Çıralı, Antalya Province, S. W. Turkey

Orcines

45° 47′ 0″ 

3° 0′ 47″

45.783

3.013

Orcines

Puy-de-Dôme Department, Central France

Orkistos

39° 15′ 21″

31° 15′ 26″

39.256

31.257

Orkistos

Ortaköy

S. of Ortaköy, Galatia, Central Turkey,

Orleans

47° 54′ 9″

1° 54′ 32.4″

47.903

1.909

Cenabum / Aureliana Civitas

Orléans

Centre-Val de Loire, France

Ostia

41° 45′ 21″

12° 17′ 30″

41.756

12.292

Ostia

Ostia Antica

Province of Roma, Lazio, Italy

Oxyrhynchus

28° 32′ 9.49″ 

30° 39′ 19.21″ 

28.536

30.655

Oxyrhynchus

Bahnasa

100 miles S. of Cairo, Minya Governorate, Egypt

Paestum

40°25′12″

15°00′20″

40.42

15.006

Paestum

Paestum

Paestum, Province of Salerno, Campania, Italy

Palestrina

41° 50′ 0″

12° 54′ 0″

41.833

12.9

Praeneste

Palestrina

20 miles E. of Rome, Lazio

Preveza, Epirus, W. Greece

Norcia

Perugia, Umbria, Central Italy Near Sultanhisar, Aydın Province, S.W. Turkey Near Harmandalı, Ortaköy, S. Central Turkey İncealiler, Muğla Province, S.W. Turkey

546

List of Places

List of Places (cont.) Name

North

East

Digital North Digital East

Main ancient name

Modern name in English

Location

Palmyra

34°33′36″

38°16′2″

34.56

38.267

Palmyra

Tadmur

Tadmur, Homs Governorate, C. Syria

Panamara

37° 15′ 23″

28° 6′ 25″

37.257

28.107

Panamara

Bağyaka, Muğla, S.W. Turkey

Panopeus

38° 29′ 43.84″

22° 47′ 39.05″

38.496

22.794

Panopeus

Near Aio Viasi/Agios Viasios in Greece

Panopolis

26° 34′ 0″

31° 45′ 0″ 

26.567

31.75

Khemmis, Chemmis and Panopolis

Akhmim

Sohag Governorate, Egypt

Parentium (Porec) 45° 13′ 38″

13° 35′ 45″

45.227

13.596

Parentium

Poreč

Istria, N.W. Croatia

Paris

48°51′24″

2°21′03″

48.857

2.351

Lutetia Parisiorum Paris

Île-de-France, Paris, France

Parma

44°48′

10°20′

44.8

10.333

Parma

Parma

Emilia-Romagna, N. Italy

Patara

36° 15′ 58.38″

29° 19′ 2″

36.266

29.317

Patara

Arsinoe

Gelemiş, Antalya Province, S.W. Turkey

Pautalia

42° 17′ 0″ 

22° 41′ 0″

42.283

22.683

Pautalia

Kyustendil

Kyustendil Province, W. Bulgaria

Pavia

45° 11′ 0″ N

9° 9′ 0″

45.183

9.15

Ticinum

Pavia

Pavia Province, Lombardy, N. Italy

Pednelissos

37°13′17″

30°55′14″

37.221

30.921

Pednelissos

On border between Pamphylia and Pisidia in Asia Minor

Pella

32°27′00.5″N

35°36′45.9″E

32.450

35.613

Pella

Aghwar Shamaliyah District, Jordan

Pergamon

39°07′57″

27°11′03″

39.133

27.184

Pergamon

Bergama

Bergama, Izmir Province, W. Turkey

Perge

36°57′41″

30°51′14″

36.961

30.854

Perge

Aksu

Aksu, Antalya Province, S.W. Turkey

Pessinus

39°20′2″

31°35′4″

39.334

31.584

Pessinus

Ballıhisar

Ballıhisar, Eskişehir Province, Turkey

Petra

30°19′43″

35°26′31″

30.329

35.442

Petra

Ma’an Governorate, S.W. Jordan

Phaselis

36°31′25″

30°33′08″

36.524

30.552

Phaselis

Tekirova, Antalya Province, S.W. Turkey

Pheradi Maius

36° 15′ 7.2″

10° 24′ 1.08″

36.252

10.400

Pheradi Maius

Sidi Khalifa, Sousse Governorate, Tunisia

Philadelphia

38° 21′ 0″

28° 31′ 0″

38.35

28.517

Philadelphia

Alaşehir

Lydia. Manisa Province, Aegean Region, Turkey

Philadelphia (Amman)

31°56′

35°56′

31.933

35.933

Philadelphia

Amman

Capital of Jordan

547

List of Places

List of Places (cont.) Name

North

East

Digital North Digital East

Main ancient name

Modern name in English

Location

Philippopolis in Arabia

32° 51′ 15″

36° 37′ 45″

32.854

36.629

Philippopolis

Shahba

Syria, 60 miles S. of Damascus

Philippopolis in Thrace

42° 8′ 36″

24° 44′ 56″

42.143

24.749

Philippopolis

Plovdiv

Plovdiv Province, S. Central Bulgaria

Philippi

41°00′47″

24°17′11″

41.013

24.286

Philippi

Pisa

43° 43′ 0″

10° 24′ 0″

43.717

10.4

Pisa

Pisa

Pisa Province, Tuscany, Italy

Poitiers

46° 34′ 54.84″

0° 20′ 9.96″

46.582

0.336

Pictavium

Poitiers

Vienne, NouvelleAquitaine, W. Central France

Pompeii

40° 45′ 3.6″ 

14° 29′ 13.2″

40.751

14.487

Pompeii

Pompei

Pompeii, Naples Province, Campania, Italy

Portus

41° 46′ 44.4″

12° 16′ 1.2″

41.779

12.267

Priene

37°39′35″

27°17′52″

37.660

27.298

Priēnē

Güllübahçe Turun, Söke, Aydın Province, S.W. Turkey

Ptolemais

32° 42′ 0″ N

20° 57′ 0″ E

32.7

20.95

Ptolemais

Near Tolmeita, Cyrenaica, Libya

Pula

44° 52′ 22.8″

13° 51′ 0″

44.873

13.85

Pupput

36° 23′ 34.44″

10° 33′ 41.76″

36.393

10.562

Pupput

Puteoli

40°49′

14°07′

40.817

14.117

Puteoli

Qalat Seman

36 ° 20 ‘2 “

36 ° 50′ 39″

36.334

36.844

Rauranum

46°17′38″

0°06′59″

46.294

0.116

Rauranum

Rom, Deux-Sèvres Rom, Deux-Sèvres, Nouvelle-Aquitaine, W. France

Ravenna

44°25′

12°12′

44.417

12.2

Ravenna

Ravenna

Ravenna Province, Emilia Romagna, E. Italy

Ravenna - Cesarea 44°24′32.6″N

12°12′27.9″E

44.409

12.208

Ravenna - Cesarea Ravenna

Ravenna Province, Emilia Romagna, E. Italy

Ravenna - Classe

44° 22′ 49″

12° 13′ 59″

Ravenna - Classe

2.5 miles E.S.E. of Ravenna, Emilia Romagna, Italy

Regina (Extremadura)

38 ° 12′ 09 “

5 ° 57′ 08″ W

38.203

–5.952

Filippoi, Eastern Macedonia and Thrace, N.E. Greece

Fiumicino,just S. of Rome, Lazio, Italy

Istria, N.W. Croatia Very near to Hammamet, N.E. Tunisia Pozzuoli

Near Naples, Campania, Italy

Qalat Seman

N.W. Syria

Ravenna

Regina Turdulorum

Near Casas de Reina, S. Badajoz, Spain

548

List of Places

List of Places (cont.) Name

North

East

Digital North Digital East

Main ancient name

Modern name in English

Location

Resafa

35° 37′ 40″

38° 45′ 23″

35.617

38.756

Sergiopolis

Al-Resafa

Raqqa district, Central Syria

Rheims

49°15′46″

4°02′05″

49.263

4.035

Rheims

Mame, Grand Est, N. France

Rhodes

36° 26′ 0″ N,

28° 13′ 0″ E

36.433

28.217

Rhodos

Rhodes

Island in the South Agean Region, Greece

Richborough

51° 17′ 47.4″

1° 19′ 9.12″

51.297

1.319

Rutupiæ

Richborough

E. Kent, S.E. England

Rodez

44° 21′ 2.16″ 

2° 34′ 30″

44.351

2.575

Segodunum, Civitas Rutenorum

Rome

41°54′

12°30′

41.9

12.5

Roma

Rome

Lazio, Italy

Rouen

49°26′28″

1°05′47″

49.441

1.096

Rotomagus

Rouen

Seine Maritime, Normandy, N. France

Sabratha

32°47′32″

12°29′3″

32.792

12.484

Sabratha

Saepinum

41°26′

14°37′

41.433

14.617

Saepinum

Sagalassos

37°40′41″

30°31′10″

37.678

30.519

Sagalassos

Sala (in Tingitana) 34° 0′ 24″

6° 49′ 13″ W

34.007

–6.820

Sala Colonia

Sala (in Pannonia) 46°50′49.1″N

16°35′26.5″E

46.847

16.591

Zalalövő

Hungary

Salamis (in Cyprus) 35°11′

33°54′

35.183

33.9

Salamis (in Cyprus)

Famagusta District, N.E. Cyprus

Salernum

40° 41′ 0″

14° 46′ 0″

40.683

14.767

Salernum

Salona

43° 32′ 18.38″

16° 28′ 27.63″

43.538

16.474

Salona

Near Solin, Dalmatia, S. Croatia

Samaria / Sebaste

32° 16′ 34″

35° 11′ 43″

32.276

35.195

Samaria / Sebaste

Next to Samaria, Nablus Governorate, Palestine

Sāmarrā

34° 11′ 54″

43° 52′ 27″

34.198

43.874

Samosata

37° 31′ 21″

38° 31′ 30″

37.523

38.525

Samosata

Sardis

38°29′18″

28°02′25″

38.488

28.040

Sardis

Aveyron, Occitanie, S. France

Zawiya District, Tripolitania Region, N.W. Libya Altilia

Sepino, Province of Campobasso, Molise, Italy Ağlasun, Burdur Province, S.W. Turkey

Chella or Shalla

Salerno

Sāmarrā

Rabat, Rabat-SaléKénitra, N. Morocco

Salerno Province, Campania Region, Italy

Famous site in Iraq, N of Baghdad Underwater, near Samsat, Adiyaman Province, Turkey

Sart

Sart, Manisa Province, W. Turkey

549

List of Places

List of Places (cont.) Name

North

East

Digital North Digital East

Main ancient name

Modern name in English

Location

Savaria

47° 14′ 6.43″

16° 37′ 18.88″

47.235

16.622

Savaria

Szombathely

Vas, W. Transdubia, W. Hungary

Sbeitla

35°13′47″

9°7′46″

35.230

9.129

Sufetula

Sbeitla

Near Sbeitla, Kasserine Governorate, Tunisia

Scolacium

38°48′33″

16°35′44″

38.809

16.596

Scolacium

Scylletium

Borgia, Catanzaro Province, Calabria, S. Italy

Scupi

42° 0′ 59.76″

21° 23′ 31.44″

42.017

21.392

Scupi

Skopje

Skopje, Republic of N. Macedonia

Scythopolis

32°30′

35°30′

32.5

35.5

Scythopolis

Bet Shean

N. Israel, 16 miles S. of the Sea of Galilee

Segermès

36° 10′ 00″

9° 46′ 20″

36.167

9.772

Segermès

Henchir Harat

Zaghouan State, N.E. Tunisia

Segobriga

39° 53′ 6″ N

2° 48′ 46.8″ W

39.885

–2.813

Segobriga

Segusium

45° 8′ 0″

7° 3′ 0″

45.133

7.05

Segusio

Susa

Near Turin, Piedmont, N.W. Italy

Seleucia in Isauria 36° 22′ 34″ N

33° 55′ 56″ E

36.376

33.932

Seleucia

Silifke

Province of Mersin, Turkey

Seleucia-Lybre

36° 52′ 26.4″

31° 28′ 33.6″

36.874

31.476

Seleucia-Lybre

Pamphylia, Antalya Province, S. Turkey

Selge

37°13′46″

31°07′38″

37.229

31.127

Selge

Pisidia, Antalya Ptovince, S. Turkey

Sepphoris

32°45′08″

35°16′52″

32.753

35.280

Sepphoris

Zippori

Galilee region, N. Israel

Serdica

42° 42′ 0″

23° 20′ 0″

42.7

23.333

Ulpia Serdica

Sofia

Sofia, W. Bulgaria

Sergiopolis / Resafa 35° 37′ 40″

38° 45′ 23″

35.628

38.756

Sergiopolis

Al Resafa

Raqqa Governorate, C. Syria

Seville

37° 22′ 38″

5° 59′ 13″ W

37.377

–5.987

Hispalis

Seville

Andausia, S. Spain

Shivta

30° 52′ 48″

34° 37′ 48″

30.88

34.63

Shivta

30 miles S. of Bersheeba, Negev, S. Israel

Sicca Veneria (Le Kef)

36° 10′ 56″

8° 42′ 53″

36.182

8.715

Sicca Veneria

Le Kef

110 miles W. of Tunis, Kef governorate, N.W. Tunisia

Sicilibba

36° 41′ 9″

9° 52′ 25″

36.686

9.874

Sicilibba

Near Alaoiuine / Alaouenine in N. Tunisia

Sicyon

37° 59′ 2.77″

22° 42′ 40.12″

37.984

22.711

Sicyon

Corinthia, S. Greece

Side

36°46′00″

31°23′20″

36.767

31.389

Side

Silchester

51° 21′ 26″

1° 4′ 57″ W

51.357

–1.083

Calleva Atrebatum Silchester

Silchester, Hampshire, England

Singilia Barba

37° 1′ 57.03″

4° 37′ 51.34″ W 37.033

–4.631

Singilia Barba

Near Antequera, Málaga, Spain

Near Saelices, Castilela Mancha, C. Spain

Side

Pamphylia, Antalya Province, S. Turkey

550

List of Places

List of Places (cont.) Name

North

East

Digital North Digital East

Main ancient name

Modern name in English

Location

Sinope

42°02′

35°09′

42.033

35.15

Sinope

Sinop, Turkey

Sinop Province, Black Sea Region, N. Turkey

Sipicciano

41° 19′ 0″

13° 51′ 0″

41.317

13.85

Sipicciano

Sipicciano

Near Graffignano, Viterbo Province, Lazio, Italy

Sirmium

44° 58′ 11.85″

19° 36′ 37.22″

44.970

19.610

Sirmium

Sremska Mitrovica Pannonia, S. Serbia

Sitifis

36°11′

5°24′

36.183

5.4

Colonia Sitifis

Sétif

Setif Province, N. Algeria

Sitifis

36° 11′ 0″ 

5° 24′ 0″

36.183

5.4

Sitifis

Setif

Sétif Province, N.E. Algeria

Smyrna

38°25′7″

27°8′21″

38.419

27.139

Smyrna

Izmir

Izmir, Izmir Province, W. Turkey

Soissons

49°22′54″

3°19′25″

49.382

3.324

Noviodunum

Soissons

Aisne, Hauts-deFrance, N. France

Sosthenion

41° 6′ 0″

29° 3′ 0″ 

41.1

29.05

Sosthenion

Istinye

Istanbul, west of the Bosphorus

Sparta

37° 4′ 55″ 

22° 25′ 25″

37.082

22.424

Sparta

Sparta

Laconia, Peleponnese Region, S. Greece

Spello

42° 59′ 20″

12° 40′ 20″

42.989

12.672

Hispellum

Spello

Perugia Province, Umbria, C. Italy

Split

43° 30′ 36″

16° 27′ 0″

43.51

16.45

Spalato

Split

Split-Dalmatia, S. Croatia

St. Bertrand de Comminges

43°01′42″

0°34′18″

43.028

0.572

Lugdunum Convenarum

St. Bertrand de Comminges

Saint-Gaudens, Haute Garonne, S. France

Stobi

41°33′06″

21°58′30″

41.552

21.975

Stobi

Gradsko, Vardar Region, Republic of North Macedonia

Stratonicea in Caria

37° 18′ 53″ N

28° 3′ 57″ E

37.315

28.066

Stratonicea / Stratonikeia

Caria

36.710

9.542

Sua

Near Chaouach, N. Tunisia

Sua Suessa

41° 14′ 0″

13° 56′ 0″

41.233

13.933

Suessa

Sessa Aurunca

Caserta Province, Campania, S. Italy

Sufes

35° 32′ 48″

9° 4′ 25″

35.547

9.074

Sufes

Sbiba

In or near Sbiba, Kasserine Governorate, Tunisia

Sufetula

35°13′47″

9°7′46″

35.230

9.129

Sufetula

Sbeitla

Near Sbeitla, Kasserine Governorate, Tunisia

Sura

35°53′55.9″N

38°46′47.1″E

35.899

38.780

Sura

Susa

45° 8′ 0″

7° 3′ 0″

45.133

7.05

Segusio

Sycai, Constantinople

Ar-Raqqah District, Syria Susa

Near Turin, Piedmont, Italy See Galata

551

List of Places

List of Places (cont.) Name

North

East

Digital North Digital East

Main ancient name

Modern name in English

Syene

24°05′20″

32°53′59″

24.089

32.900

Aswan

Aswan Governorate, S. Egypt

Sykeon

40°09′58.7″N

31°55′22.6″E

40.166

31.923

Sykeon

Possibly ruins at Kiliseler, near Tahirler, Beypaxari (CO), Galatia, Turkey

Syracuse

37° 5′ 0″

15° 17′ 0″ 

37.083

15.283

Syracusae

Tanagra

38°19′

23°32′

38.317

23.533

Tanagra

Tarraco

41° 6′ 59″

1° 15′ 19″

41.116

1.255

Tarraco

Tayyibat Al-Imam

35°15′58″

36°42′41″

35.267

36.711

Tegea

37°27.3′

22°25.2′

37.455

22.42

Tegea

Arcadia Region, Peloponnese, S. Greece

Tegianum in Lucania

40° 23′ 0″

15° 32′ 0″

40.383

15.533

Tegiano

Salerno Province, Campania Region, Italy

Termessos

36°58′57″

30°27′53″

36.983

30.465

Termessos

Psidia Region, Antalya Province, S.W. Turkey

Termessus Minor

36° 48′ 33″

29° 32′ 59″

36.809167,

29.550

Termessus Minor / Termessos Minor / Oenoanda

İncealiler, Muğla Province, S.W. Turkey

Terracina

41°17′

13°15′

41.283

13.25

Terracina

Teurnia

46° 49′ 23.91″

13° 26′ 37.49″

46.823

13.444

Teurnia

Thabarbusis

37° 3′ 16

7° 14′ 28″

37.054

7.241

Thabarbusis

Henchir bou Nahr N. Algeria

Thagaste

36° 17′ 11″

7° 57′ 4″

36.286

7.951

Thagaste

Souk Ahras

Thala

35°34′

8°40′

35.567

8.667

Thala

Thamugadi

35°29′03″

6°28′07″

35.484

6.469

Thamugadi

Timgad

Batna Province, N. E. Algeria

Thasos (Town)

40° 46′ 30″

24° 42′ 30″

40.775

24.708

Thasos

Limenas

East Macedonia and Thrace Region, E. Greece

Thermopylae

38°48′19″

22°33′46″

38.805

22.563

Thermopylae

Thermopylae

Near the Spercheios river and Malian Gulf, N. Greece

Syracuse

Location

Syracuse Province, S.E. Sicily, Italy Boeotia, Central Greece

Tarragona

Hispania, Tarragona, Catalonia, N.E. Spain

Taybat al-Imam

Hama district, N.W. Syria

Terracina

Latina Province, Lazio, Italy St. Peter-in-Holz, Lendorf, Upper Carinthia, Austria

Souk Ahras Province, N.E. Algeria Kasserine Governorate, N.W. Tunisia

552

List of Places

List of Places (cont.) Name

North

East

Digital North Digital East

Main ancient name

Modern name in English

Location

Thessalonica

40° 39′ 0″ 

22° 54′ 0″

40.65

22.9

Thessalonica

Thessalonica

Central Macedonia, Greece

Theveste

35°24′

8°7′

35.4

8.117

Theveste

Tébessa

Tébessa, Tébessa Province, N.E. Algeria

Thibilis (Announa) 36 ° 23 ‘36 “

7 ° 15′ 33″

36.933

7.259

Thibilis

Thignica

36° 31′ 25″

9° 21′ 42″

36.524

9.362

Thignica

Aïn Tounga

S. W. of Testour, N. Tunisia

Thuburbo Maius

36°24′09″

9°54′11″

36.403

9.903

Thuburbo Maius

Henchir Kasbat

Zaghouan Goverorate, N.E. Tunisia

Thubursicu Bure/ Thubursicum

36° 27′ 25″

9° 14′ 58″

36.457

9.249

Thubursicu Bure/ Teleboursouk Thubursicum

Thubursicu Numidarum

36° 11′ 19″

7° 39′ 33″

36.189

7.659

Thubursicum Numidarum

Khamissa

Thugga

36°25′20″

9°13′6″

36.422

9.218

Thugga

Dougga

Béja Governorate, N. Tunisia

Tiberias

32°47′47.76″

35°32′8.58″

32.797

35.536

Tiberias

Tiberias

West shore of the Sea of Galilee, N. Israel

Tiddis

36° 27′ 48″

6° 29′ 2″

36.463

6.484

Tiddis

Constantine Province, N.E. Algeria

Tipasa

36° 35′ 31″ 

2° 26′ 58″

36.592

2.449

Tipasa

Tipaza , Tipaza Province, N. Algeria

Tocra

32°31′56″

20°34′20″

32.532

20.572

Tocra

Tokara

Marj District, Cyrenacia region, N.E. Libya

Tomis

44° 10′ 24″

28° 38′ 18″

44.173

28.638

Tomis

Constanța

N. Dobruja Region, S.E. Romania

Toulouse

43°36′16″

1°26′38″

43.605

1.444

Tolosa

Tolouse

Haute Garonne, Occitanie, S. France

Tournai

50°36′

3°23′

50.6

3.383

Tornacum

Tournai

Hainaut, Wallonia, S.W. Belgium

Tours

47°23′37″

0°41′21″

47.394

0.689

Caesarodunum / Tours Civitas Turonum

Indre et Loire, Central France

Tralleis

37°50′53″

27°50′43″

37.848

27.845

Tralleis

Aydin

Aydin Province, S.W. Turkey

Trier

49°45′

6°38′

49.75

6.633

Augusta Treverorum

Trier

Rhineland Palatinate, W. Germany

Trieste

45°38′

13°48′

45.633

13.8

Tergestum

Trieste

Friuli-Venezia Giulia Region, N.E. Italy

Trimithis (Amheida)25° 40′ 4″

28° 52′ 17″

25.668

28.871

Trimithis

Amheida

Near the Dakleh Oasis, Egypt

Tripolis ad Meandrum

38° 3′ 0″

28° 57′ 0″

38.05

28.95

Tripolis ad Meandrum

Denizli Province, S.W. Turkey

Troesmis

45° 8′ 35.52″ 

28° 11′ 42.36″

45.143

28.195

Troesmis

Near Igliţa-Turcoaia, S.E. Romania

Near Sellaoua Announa, NE Algeria

Near Téboursouk, Béja Governorate, N. Tunisia

553

List of Places

List of Places (cont.) Name

North

East

Digital North Digital East

Main ancient name

Tropaeum Trajani

44° 6′ 7.2″

27° 57′ 18″

44.102

27.955

Tropaeum Trajani Adamclisi

Adamclisi, Romania

Troy

39°57′27″

26°14′20″

39.958

26.239

Illium

Tevfikiye, Çanakkale Province, N.W. Turkey

Tubernuc

36 ° 31 ‘59 “

10 ° 27′ 23″

36.533

10.456

Tubernuc

Ain Tebournouk? 5 miles S.W. of Grombalia, N.W. Tunisia

Tunis

36° 48′ 23″

10° 10′ 54″

36.806

10.182

Tunis

Tunis

N.E. Tunisia

Turin

45° 4′ 0″ 

7° 42′ 0″

45.067

7.7

Augusta Taurinorum

Turin

Piedmont Region, N.W. Italy

Tuscania

42° 25′ 6″

11° 52′ 15″

42.418

11.871

Tuscania

Tuscania

Viterbo Province, Lazio, Italy

Tyana

37° 50′ 52.51″

34° 36′ 40.22″

37.848

34.611

Tyana

Kemerhisar, Niğde Province, S. Turkey

Tymandus

38° 6′ 14.4″

30° 36′ 25.2″

38.104

30.607

Tymandus

Yassıören, N. of Isparta near Lake Eğirdir, S. Turkey

Tyre

33°16′15″

35°11′46″

33.271

35.196

Tyrus

Tyre

Uchi Maius

36 ° 24 ‘44 “

9 ° 05′ 06″

36.412

9.085

Uchi Maius

Henchir Doumais Beja Goverorate, N. Tunisia

Um er-Rasas

31° 30′ 2.83″

35° 55′ 12.95″

31.501

35.920

Kastron Mefa’a

Um / Umm-ar-Rasas

Ureu

36° 52′ 31″

9° 32′ 8″

36.875

9.535

Ureu

Henchir-Aouraou N. Tunisia

Uthina

36° 36′ 25″

10° 10′ 25″

36.607

10.174

Uthina

Oudna

Utica

37° 3′ 25″

10° 3′ 43″

37.057

10.062

Utica

Uzali Sar (Henchir 36° 48′ 42″ Djal)

9° 41′ 18″

36.812

9.688

Vaga

9° 10′ 59.88″

36.733

9.183

Vecca / Theodorias Béja

Vaison-la-Romaine 44° 14′ 31.92″

5° 4′ 20.64″

44.242

5.072

Vasio Vocontiorum Vaison-la-Romaine Vaucluse, Provence, S. France

Valencia

39°28′

0° 23′ 0″ W

39.467

–0.383

Valentia

Valeria

39°48′30.6″N

2°09′00.5″W

39.808

–2.150

Valeria

Vallis

36°38′37″

9°36′15″

36.644

9.604

Valliantus

Sidi Medien

Béja Governorate, N.Tunisia

Velabrum

41° 53′ 21″

12° 28′ 55″ 

41.889

12.482

Velabrum

Rome

A low valley in the city of Rome

36° 43′ 59.88″

Modern name in English

Location

S.W. Lebanon

Amman Governorate, W. Jordan

Ben Arous region, near Tunis, N.E. Tunisia Zana, Bizerte Governorate, N. Tunisia

Uzali Sar (Henchir N. Tunisia Djal)

Valencia

Béja Governorate

Valencia Province, E. Spain LasValeras, Cuenca, Castilla-La Mancha Region, Central Spain

554

List of Places

List of Places (cont.) Name

North

East

Digital North Digital East

Main ancient name

Modern name in English

Location

Vercelli

45°19′

8°25′

45.317

8.417

Vercellae

Vercelli

Vercelli Province, Piedmont, N. Italy

Verdun

49° 9′ 43.2″

5° 23′ 15.36

49.162

5.388

Verodunum

Verdun

Meuse Department, Grand Est, N.E. France

Verecunda

35°29′20″

06°15′21″

35.489

6.256

Verecunda

Markuna

2 miles S of Lambaesis, Batna Province, Algeria (coordinates for Lambaesis)

Verona

45°26′

10°59′

45.433

10.983

Verona

Verona

Verona Province, Venito Region, N. Italy

Verulamium

51° 45′ 0″

0° 21′ 14.04″ W 51.75

–0.354

Verulamium

St Albans

St Albans, Hertfordshire, S.E. England

Vienne

45° 31′ 27.12″

4° 52′ 41.16″

45.524

4.878

Vienna

Vienne

Isère Department, Auvergne-RhôneAlpes , France

Volubilis

34° 4′ 16″ 

5° 33′ 13″ W

34.071

–5.554

Volubilis

Water Newton

52° 33′ 32.36

0° 20′ 53.56″ W 52.559

–0.348

Durobrivae

Water Newton

Near Water Newton, Cambridgeshire, S.E. England

Winchester

51° 3′ 46.8″

1° 19′ 1.2″ W

51.063

–1.317

Venta Belgarum

Winchester

Hampshire, S.E. England

Wroxeter

52° 40′ 26.4

2° 38′ 42″ W

52.674

–2.645

Viroconium Cornoviorum

Wroxeter

Wroxeter, Shropshire, England

Xanthos

36°21′22″

29°19′07″

36.356

29.319

Xanthos

Zadar, Dalmatia

44°6′51″

15°13′40″

44.114

15.228

Iadera

Zana

35° 46′ 46″ 

6° 4′ 31″ 

35.779

6.075

Zana / Diana Veteranorum

Zenobia

35° 41′ 22″

39° 49′ 21″

35.689

39.823

Zenobia

Meknès Prefecture, Fès-Meknès, N. Morocco

Kinik, Antalya Province, S.W. Turkey Zadar

Zadar County, Croatia Batna Province, N.E. Algeria

Halabiye

Dier ez-Zor Governorate, Central Syria

Illustration Credits Front Cover volume 1 and Figure 01: Reconstruction of Round Plaza of Gerasa, ca. A.D. 400 (copyright Will Foster / VLAC team, University of Kent). Frontispiece volume 1: Cities of the Madaba map mosaic A.D. 542–70, (clockwise): Jerusalem, Gaza, Pelusium, Diospolis, Ascalon, redrawn by A. Merry 2020. Front Cover volume 2, and Figure 02: Reconstruction of the Foro della statua eroica, Ostia, A.D. 387 (copyright Will Foster / VLAC team, University of Kent). Frontispiece volume 2: Bethlehem as a heavenly city, S. Maria Maggiore, Rome, Triumphal Arch, early 430s A.D., drawn by A. Merry 2020. 01 Reconstruction of Round Plaza of Gerasa, ca. AD 400. Copyright Will Foster / VLAC team, University of Kent. 02 Reconstruction of the Foro della statua eroica, Ostia, A.D. 387. Copyright Will Foster / VLAC team, University of Kent. A1 Trajectories in Mediterranean Urbanism: AD 350. E. Boast 2012. A2 Trajectories in Mediterranean Urbanism: AD 450. E. Boast 2012. A3 Trajectories in Mediterranean Urbanism: AD 550. E. Boast 2012. A4 Trajectories in Mediterranean Urbanism: AD 650. E. Boast 2012. A5 Encroachment of backstreets by churches, Palmyra, showing only one road blocking, very late. E. Karan 2013, after K. Schnädelbach, Topographia Palmyrena, 1 Topography (Documents d’archéologique Syrienne 18) (Damascus 2010) 46–47. B1 New urban foundations: Philippopolis (mid-5th c.) and Diocletianopolis (early 4th c.). Philippopolis: with thanks to Ivo Topalilov 2014. Diocletianopolis: after K. Madkarov, Diocletianopol, vol. 1 (Sofia 1993) fig. 10. B2 Replanned cities: Paris (early 4th c.) and GorsiumHerculia (late 3rd–early 4th c.). Paris: after D. Busson, Paris Ville Antique (Paris 2001), main plan. Gorsium: after L. Schilling, “Bestattungen und Gräberfelder von der Spätantike bis zum Frühmittelalter in und um die spätrömische Befestigung von Tác/Gorsium (4.–8. Jh.)”, in Keszthely-Fenékpuszta im Kontext spätantiker Kontinuitätforschung zwischen Noricum und Moesia, ed. O. Heinrich-Tamáska (Budapest-Leipzig-KeszthelyRahden 2011) (381–96) plate 6. B3a Fort plans, 4th c.: el-Lejjun, Housesteads (with chalet barracks), Iatrus, Dinogetia. El-Lejjun: D. MilesWilliams, School of Archaeology & Ancient History, University of Leicester, after S.T. Parker, The Roman Frontier in Central Jordan: Final Report on the Limes Arabicus Project, 1980–1989 (Dumbarton Oaks Studies 40) (Washington 2006) 129 fig. 3.3. Housesteads: J.G. Crow,

Housesteads Roman Fort (London 1989) 110. Iatrus: G. von Bülow, “The fort of Iatrus in Moesia Secunda: observations in the Late Roman defensive system on the Lower Danube (fourth–sixth centuries AD)”, in The Transition to Late Antiquity on the Danube and Beyond, ed. A.G. Poulter (Proceedings of the British Academy 141) (Oxford 2007) (459–78) 465 fig. 3 (period A, first half of the 4th c.). Dinogetia: after C. Chirita (CC-BY-SA 3.0). B3b Fort plans, tetrarchic: Daganiya (Syria) and Dionysias (Egypt). Daganiya: after V.L. Goodwin, “The Castellum of Daʽjāniya (Area T)”, in The Roman Frontier in Central Jordan: Final Report on the Limes Arabicus Project, 1980– 1989, ed. S. T. Parker (Dumbarton Oaks Studies 40) vol. 1 (Washington 2006) fig. 14.1. Dionysias: after J. Schwartz (1969) Fouilles franco-suisses, Rapports II. Qasr-Qarunj Dionysias, 1950 (Cairo 1969) Plan II. B4a Fort Plans: Camp of Diocletian, Palmyra, and tetrarchic fort of Nag el-Hagar (?Praesentia), Egypt. (after C. Delplace and J. Dentzer-Feydy, L’agora de Palmyre (Bordeaux and Beiruit 2005) 13 fig. 2). B4b The Palace of Diocletian at Split: K. Marasović, S. Perojević, J. Margeta, “The Roman sewer of Diocletian’s palace in Split”, GRAĐEVINAR 66 (2014) 3 (237– 249) 242 fig. 8 (with thanks to K. Marasović). B5a New urban quarters of the 4th c.: Sitifis (entirely new) and Alexandria (re-established, with new road). Sitifis: P.-A. Fevrier, Fouilles de Sétif: les basiliques chrétiennes du quartier nord-ouest (Paris 1965) fig. 4. Alexandria: Alexandria: The Architecture of Alexandria and Egypt 300 BC–AD 700 (New Haven, Connecticut-London 2007) 179 fig. 305 and other plans in the same volume. B5b Ravenna, showing the new urban quarter of the early 5th c., with irregular-sized rectangular insulae, potentially of large dimensions. From E. Cirelli, Ravenna: archeologia di una città (Florence 2008) 99 fig. 77 where the churches of the Gothic period are added, with their orientations. B6 New urban foundations of the 6th c.: Resafa-Sergiopolis, Zenobia, and Justiniana Prima. Zenobia: after J. Lauffray, Halabiyya-Zenobia. Place forte du Limes oriental et la Haute Mèsopotamie au VIe siècle, vol. 2: L’architecture publique, religieuse, privèe et funeraire (Paris 1991) 36–42, with the “Plan de la ville”; Resafa: after S. Westphalen “Resafa: Untersuchungen zum Straßennetz in byzantinischer Zeit”, in Akten des XIV Internationalen Kongresses für Christliche Archäologie Wien 19–26.9.1999 Frühes Christentum zwischen Rom und Konstantinopel, vol. 2, edd. R. Harreither et al. (Vienna 2006) (783–93) (783–85) 276 fig. 1. Justiniana Prima: V. Ivanisevic, “Une capitale revisitée: Caričin Grad (Justiniana Prima)”, CRAI (2017.1) (93–114) 98 fig. 2.

556

Illustration Credits

B7

Alytarch Stoa, new built, aracaded, well-matched spolia, AD 410–36; Ephesus, Curetes Stoa, twostorey, arcaded, mixture of columns and piers, ca. AD 550; Aphrodisias, east portico of north-south colonnaded street, two-storey, arcaded, alternating piers and columns, AD 500–614. Rome, Forum of Caesar, new built, two-storey flat architraves, hidden upper arcade, well-chosen reused materials, cut away showing finished state, structural features, and ruined condition, AD 357–82. Ostia: L. Bosworth 2019 expanded from P. Pensabene, Ostiensium marmorum decus et decor: Studi architettonici, decorativi e archeometrici (StMisc 33) (Rome 2007) 481–85 for correct measurements, with fig. 236 on p. 482 with wrong scale; Ephesus, Alytarch Stoa: after U. Quatember, A. Sokolicek, and V. Scheibelreiter, “Die sogenannte Alytarchenstoa an der Kuretenstraße von Ephesos”, in Neue Forschungen zur Kuretenstraße von Ephesos. Akten des Symposiums für Hilke Thür vom 13. Dezember 2006 an der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, ed. S. Ladstätter (DenkschrWien 382. AF 15) (Vienna 2009) (111–54) 153 fig. 50: copyright Austrian Archaeological Institute; Ephesus, Curetes Stoa: after H. Thür, “Die spätantike Bauphase der Kuretenstraße”, in Efeso paleocristiana e bizantina Frühchristliches und byzantinisches Ephesos, edd. R. Pillinger, O. Kresten, F. Krinzinger and E. Ruso (DenkschrWien 282. AF 3) (Vienna 1999b) (104–20) table 98 fig. 22: copyright Austrian Archaeological Institute; Aphrodisias: expanded from A. Sokolicek, “Excavations on the Tetrapylon Street, 2012–14”, in Aphrodisias Papers 5: Excavation and Research at Aphrodisias 2006–2012 (JRA Supplement 103) edd. R.R.R. Smith, J. Lenaghan, A. Sokolicek and K. Welch (Portsmouth, Rhode Island 2016) (58–75) 67 fig. 4.13; Rome: after R. Meneghini, “La trasformazione dello spazio architettonico del foro di Cesare nella tarda antichità”, in Il Foro di Cesare. Nuovi dati da scavi e studi recenti (Scienze dell’antichità 16 (2010)) edd. R. Meneghini and R. Santangeli (503–12) 506 fig. 2. B13f Reconstructed cross section of street porticoes, at Sardis (East-West Colonnaded Street), Athens (Library of Pantainos), and a Near-Eastern city (from Julian of Ascalon). After: Stephens Crawford (1990) fig. 32; T.L. Shear Jr., “The Athenian Agora: excavations of 1973–1974”, Hesperia 44.4 (1975) (331–74) 334 fig. 2; C. Saliou transl., Le traité d’urbanisme de Julien d’Ascalon (VIe siècle). Droit et architecture en Palestine au VIe siècle (Paris 1996) fig. 3 (original drawing by F. Bodet). B14a Portico floors: (i) coherent geometric mosaic (Scythopolis). Photo: L. Lavan.

Troesmis, plan of 6th c. fortress, from 19th c. survey. After E. Desjardins, Voyage archéologique et géo­ graphique dans la region du bas Danube (RA New Series 17) (Paris 1868) pl. 9. B8 Late Antique Bourgades: Trimithis (Amheida), Shivta, ?Castra Porphyreon (Kafr Samir), and Arif. Trimithis: after http://www.amheida.org/index.php?con tent=maps General Map (last accessed Dec. 2018). Shivta: after A. Segal, Architectural Decoration in Byzantine Shivta, Negev Desert, Israel (BAR-IS 420) (Oxford 1988) fig. 14. ?Castra Porphyreon: Z. Yeivin and G. Finkielsztejn, “Les rues du Bourg Byzantin de Kfar Samir (‘castra’ Porphyreon du Sud) à Haïfa, Israel”, in La rue dans l’Antiquite (Actes du colloque de Poitiers 7–9 Septembre 2006), edd. P. Ballet, N. DieudonnéGlad and C. Saliou (Rennes 2008) (185–90) site plan on p. 186 fig. 1. Arif: M. Harrison (W. Young ed.), Mountain and Plain: from the Lycian Coast to the Phrygian Plateau in the Late Roman and Early Byzantine Period (Michigan 2001) 40, fig. 30. B9a Abu Mina, a large bourgade, of 5th–6th c. date, installed around a pilgrimage site. After P. Grossmann et al., “Abū Mînā. 13 Vorläufiger Bericht, Kampagnen 1987–1989”, AA (1995) (389–423) 391 fig. 1. B9b ‘Marea’ / Philoxenite, a bourgade with major planned streets of earlier 6th c. date, revealed by Warsaw university led by T. Derda and M. Kutiak, with plan undertaken by Andrzej B. Kutiak, redrawn for this book. I am very grateful to Professor Derda for his permission. B10 Umayyad urban planning in the Levant: the palace quarter of Jerusalem and the new foundation of ‘Anjar. Jerusalem: after E. Mazar, The Complete Guide to the Temple Mount Excavations (Jerusalem 2012) 98. ‘Anjar: after R. Hillenbrand, “Anjar and Early Islamic urbanism”, in The Idea and Ideal of the Town between Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages, edd. G.P. Brogiolo and B. Ward-Perkins (Leiden 1999) 73 fig. 2. B11a Late antique colonnaded streets: Thracian Philippopolis, Aizanoi, Ephesus (Upper Embolos), and Jerusalem. Photos: L. Lavan, except for Ephesus (copyright Austrian Archaeological Institute, A-WOAI-EPH-04617) and Jerusalem, (Posi66 at the German language Wikipedia: GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2 / CC BY-SA 3.0). B11b The southernmost colonnaded street of Diocletian’s Palace, Split, early 4th c. Photo: Goran Nikšić. B12 Simplified plan of widths of late antique colonnaded streets, showing main features. B13a–e Porticoes of late antique date, façades, reconstructed, by Lloyd Bosworth 2019: Ostia, portico in front of theatre, poorly-matched spolia AD 385–89; Ephesus,

Illustration Credits B14b

Portico floors: (ii) mixed mosaic carpets (Ephesus). Photo: copyright Austrian Archaeological Institute A-W-OAI-EPH-03958. B14c Comparative sketch of late opus sectile portico flooring, Laodicea (repaired), Ankara, Aphrodisias / Scythopolis Agora, Scythopolis Palladius Street, not to scale. Laodicea: after C. Şimşek, Laodikeia (Laodicea ad Lycum) (Laodikeia Çalışmarları 2) (Istanbul 2013) 129 fig. 153. Ankara: after M. Kadıoğlu for permission to republish from M. Kadıoğlu, “Cardo Maximus”, in Roman Ancyra, edd. M. Kadıoğlu, K. Görkay and S. Mitchell (Istanbul 2011) (143–57) 154 fig. 87. Aphrodisias / Scythopolis: artist’s impression of late floors colonnaded street and ‘Byzantine Agora’, L. Bosworth. Scythopolis: artists’s impression of late portico of Palladius Street, L. Bosworth. B15a Sidewalk, raised, at Gerasa, on both sides of the road. Photo: S. Kamani with thanks. B15b Sidewalk at Ephesus (Marble Street). Photo: L. Lavan. B16a–h Street paving: new-cut slabs of basalt in rows (Scythopolis, mid-6th c.); new cut slabs or kurkar limestone in herringbone rows (Caesarea Palestinae, 6th c.); re-used slabs laid in short rows (Ephesus Marble Street, earlier 5th c.); re-used slabs without rows but cut to fit (Aphrodisias, early 5th c.); re-used slabs without rows, not cut to fit (Ephesus Plateia in Corresus, later 6th to earlier 7th c.); the same street with split columns; Sagalassos, earlier 6th c.; Classe, mid 6th c. Photos L. Lavan, except Aphrodisias R.R.R. Smith (already published, with thanks) reused slabs, well-sorted, laid in short rows, tricking excavators (Sagalassos, earlier 6th c., Carole Raddato CC BY-SA 2.0); trachyte slabs, poorly jointed (Ravenna mid-6th c., Claswb CC BY-SA 3.0). See also fig. B11a for further paving of the earlier 5th c. from Ephesus, re-used laid in short irregular rows, cut to fit. B17 Round plazas, excavation plans: Gerasa, Bostra, Dyrrachium, Antioch, and Justiniana Prima. Gerasa: C.H. Kraeling ed. Gerasa (New Haven 1938) plan XII. Bostra: S. Cerulli, “Bostra: Note sul sistema viario urbano e nouvi apporti alla coprensione delle fasi edilizie del Santuario dei SS. Sergio, Bacco e Leonzio”, Felix Ravenna 115 (1978) 11–124, fig. 7. Dyrrachium: Courtesy of J. Wilkes. Antioch: J. Lassus, Antioch on the Orontes vol. 5 Les portiques d’Antioche (Princeton 1972) 14, plan V. Justiniana Prima: Caricin Grad II, edd. B. Bavant, V. Kondíc and J. M. Spieser (CEFR 75) (Belgrade and Rome 1990). B18a ‘Tetrakionion’ (Palmyra). Photo: A. Haug. B18b ‘Tetrastylon’ (Ephesus). Photo: copyright Austrian Archaeological Institute. B19a A tetrapylon without its attic (Rome, ‘Arch of Janus’). Photo: R. Newson. See fig. B19 for this monument with its attic.

557 B19b Tetrapyla, comparative sections: Carnuntum, Rome (Arch of Janus), Rome (Malborghetto), Thessalonica. Reconstructed, except for Thessalonica. Some may have had pyramidal roofs. Carnuntum: J. Cencic, C. Gazdac, W. Jobst, K. Müller, and U. Schuh, “Das Heidentor von Carnuntum. Ausgrabungen, Forschungen und Funde 1998–1999”, Carnuntum Jahrbuch (2001) (135–274) 271 fig. 7. Rome, Arch of Janus: P. Pensabene and C. Panella, “Reimpiego e progettazione architettonica nei monumenti tardo-antichi di Roma (II): Arco quadrifronte (‘Giano’) del foro boario”, RendPontAcc 67 (1994–95) (25–67) plate A taken from L. Rossini, Archi trionfale e funebri (Rome 1836) pl. 64. Rome, Malborghetto: G. Messineo, Malborghetto, lavori e studi di archeologia pubblicati dalla Soprintendenza archeologica di Roma (Roma 1989) 72,fig. 63. Thessalonica: E. Mayer, Rom ist dort, wo der Kaiser ist: Untersuchungen zu den Staatsdenkmälern des dezentralisierten Reiches von Diocletian bis zu Theodosius II (RGZM Monographien 53) (Mainz 2002) 51 fig. 10. B20a Simplified plan of ʻTetrakioniaʼ, ʻTetrastylaʼ, Tetrapyla, and Arches. B20b Cross-hall tetrapylon, legionary camp, Lambaesis, Numidia, with inscription of 267/78 (AE (1974) 723) naming it as a groma, the point where surveyors laid out their groma instrument at the centre of a new fortress. A similar building, at Cirta, is described on its inscriptions as a tetrapylon. Photo: Riad Hadjsadok, CC BY-SA 4.0, cropped down. B21a Monumental Arches: comparative sections from Rome, Africa, and Aegyptus (Libya). Rome (Arch of Constantine): P. Pensabene and C. Panella, Arco di Costantino: tra archeologia e archeometria (Rome 1999). Rome (Arch of Portugal): S. Stucchi, “L’arco detto “di Portogallo” sulla via Flaminia”, BullCom 73 (1949–50) 116–18 fig. 14 and plate 4. R. Lanciani, “Miscellanea topografica. ‘L’Arco di Portogallo’”, BullCom 29 (1891) (18–23) 20–21. Rome (Arch of Valens and Valentinian): R. Lanciani, “Roma”, NSc (1878) table 20–21. Ptolemais: After reconstruction drawing of L. Turba published by Caputo (1937) as fig. 1 is reproduced as Kraeling and Wright (1962) 76 fig. 15. Sufetula: after N. Duval and F. Baratte, Ruines de Sufetula—Sbeitla (Tunis 1973) 90–91 fig. 54 and https://upload.wiki media.org/wikipedia/commons/9/91/Arch_of_ Diocletian_or_Triumphal_Arch_of_the_Tetrarchy_ -_Sbeitla,_Tunisia_-_18_May_2012.jpg. Thibilis: A. Ravoisié, Exploration scientifique de l’Algérie pendant les années 1840, 1841, 1842. Beaux-arts: architecture et sculpture (Paris 1846) vol. 2 p. 12 pl. 9. Thibilis dipylon: A. Ravoisié, Exploration scientifique de l’Algérie pendant les années 1840, 1841, 1842. Beaux-arts: architecture et sculpture (Paris 1846) vol. 2 p. 11 pl. 5 (sketch).

558 B21b Monumental Arches, comparative sections from Constantinople and the Aegean: Thessalonica, Constantinople (Forum of Theodosius), Ephesus, and Perge. Thessalonica: E. Mayer, Rom ist dort, wo der Kaiser ist: Untersuchungen zu den Staatsdenkmälern des dezentralisierten Reiches von Diocletian bis zu Theodosius II (RGZM Monographien 53) (Mainz 2002) 51 fig. 10. Constantinople (Forum of Theodosius): R. Naumann, “Neue Beobachtungen am Theodosiusbogen und Forum Tauri in Istanbul”, IstMitt 26 (1976) (117–41) 128 fig. 6. Ephesus: A. Bammer, “Ein spätantiker Torbau aus Ephesos”, ÖJh 50 (1972–75) (Beiblatt 93–126) 123 fig. 30. Perge: A.M. Mansel, “Bericht über Ausgrabungen und Untersuchungen in Pamphylien 1957– 1972”, AA (1975) (49–96) fig. 24. B21c Sufetula, Arch of Diocletian (Wikimedia Commons, Bernard Gagnon CC-BY-SA-3.0, 2.5, 2.0, 1.0). B21d Late Arch Types: Anazarbos, Resafa-Sergiopolis arch no. 2, Resafa-Sergiopolis arch no. 3, Caesarea Palestinae. Anazarbos: redrawn using R. Posamentir and M.H. Sayar, “Anazarbos—ein Zwischenbericht aus der Metropole des Ebenen Kilikien”, IstMitt 56 (2006) (317–57) fig. 10, fig. 11 plus R. Posamentir, “Ohne Mass und Ziel? Anmerkungen zur Säulenstrasse von Anazarbos”, in Euergetes. Festschrift für Prof. D. Halûk Abbasoğlu zum 65. Geburtstag 2008 (Istanbul 2008) (1013–33) 1027 figs. 8 (section, main source used) and 11 (axonometric). Resafa-Sergiopolis arch no. 2: S. Westphalen, “Resafa. Bericht über die Ausgrabungen 1997 bis 1999”, DM 12 (2000) (325–65) 337, with 338 fig. 6. Resafa-Sergiopolis arch no. 3: Westphalen (2000) 337, with 339 fig. 7; Caesarea Palestinae: C.M. Lehmann and K.G. Holum, The Greek and Latin Inscriptions of Caesarea Maritima (Boston 2000) 16, 82–84, no. 59, fig. 6 (a reconstruction drawing of the arch and the plaza) with dimensions calculated from p. 84. B21e Qalat Seman, Syria. Arch at entrance to pilgrimage site. From M. de Vogüé, Syrie Centrale. Architecture civile et religieuse du Ie au VIIe siècle, 2 vols. (Paris 1865–77) vol. 1: texte p. 129, vol. 2 planches fig. 115 (reconstruction, from well-preserved half of arch, redrawn by L. Bosworth 2019). B21f Resafa-Sergiopolis, façade of north gate (Photo: M. Gussone TU Berlin, with thanks). B22a Honorific columns: comparative sections (with columns of tetrastyla of Early and Late Imperial date): Theodosius & Arcadius, Justinian, Constantine (all Constantinople), Diocletian (Alexandria), ‘Julian’ (Ankara), Marcian (Constantinople), Phocas (Rome), Goth’s, Hermopolis Magna, Antinoe, Luxor, Ara Philaenorum, and Ephesus (Tetrastylon). In Constantinople where location not stated. Theodosius & Arcadius: C. Gurlitt, Antike Denkmalsäulen in

Illustration Credits Konstantinopel (Berlin 1910). Justinian: R. Stichel, “Zum Bronzekoloss Justinians I. vom Augusteion in Konstantinopel”, in Griechische und römische Statuetten und Grossbronzen. Akten der 9. Tagung über antike Bronzen Wien 1986 (Vienna 1988) (130–36) 132 fig. 5. Constantine: see E. Mamboury’s reconstructed section in C. Mango, “Constantine’s porphyry column and the chapel of St. Constantine”, Δελτίον XAE 10 (1980– 81) (103–10) pl. 18a plus my own comments in vol. 2 appendix F9. Diocletian (Alexandria): W. Thiel, “Die ‘Pompeius-Säule’ in Alexandria und die Vier-SäulenMonumente Ägyptens”, in Die Tetrarchie: Ein neues Regierungssystem und seine mediale Repräsentation, edd. D. Boschung and W. Eck (Wiesbaden 2006) (249– 322) 312 fig. 17. ‘Julian’ (Ankara): M. Kadıoğlu, “The Column of Belkiz (so-called Julian? column)”, in Roman Ancyra, edd. M. Kadıoğlu, K. Görkay and S. Mitchell (Istanbul 2011) 231 fig. 143. Marcian: A. Bilge, “Çemberlitaş ve Kıztaşının Onarımları”, in TMMOB Publications, Mimarlık 8 (1972) 54–65, with unlabelled figure at the end of the article, plus measurements in appendix F9. Phocas (Rome): F.M. Nichols, A Revised History of the Column of Phocas in the Roman Forum (Westminster 1890) 6 for partial section (also available as Archaeologia 52.1 (2nd series) (1890) 183–94), plus extrapolations from a photo of R. Newson. Goths column (Cple): measurements taken from a photo with plan measurements of U. Peschlow, “Betrachtungen zur Gotensäule in Istanbul”, in Tesserae: festschrift für Josef Engemann (JAC 18) (Münster 1992) 215–28 (esp. p. 217, figs. 1a and 1b). Hermopolis Magna, Antinoe, Luxor, Ara Philaenorum, and Ephesus (Tetrastylon): see Theil (2006) 312 fig. 17. B22b Honorific column supporting a statue of the emperor Phocas, Forum Romanum. A columnar monument with three phases, probably initially dedicated to the Genius of the Roman People by Aurelian [270–75], a dedication forgotten or removed sometime in the later 4th c. It was rededicated to Phocas in 608. The steps recall those set around the columns of Constantine and Justinian in Constantinople. They relate to the final phase, but replaced an earlier pyramid of steps, which was not part of the original monument (A. Montgomery flickr.com CC BY-SA 2.0). B23a Simplified plan of basin sizes of late antique facade nymphaea. B23b Sections of late antique monumental fountains, certain, possible, discounted: Ostia (Bivium) (250–75), Sufetula (364–67), Tipasa (possibly 300–430), Gortyn (300–65). Philippi, ecclesiastical (400–537), Ephesus (Fountain opposite the stadium) (400–540), Laodicea (395–610), Antioch (probably 3rd c., not late antique). Ostia (Bivium): E. Boast. Sufetula: N. Duval and

559

Illustration Credits F. Baratte, Ruines de Sufetula–Sbeitla (Tunis 1973) 30, fig. 15. Tipasa: See P. Aupert, Le nymphée de Tipasa et les nymphées et septizonia nord-africains (CEFR 16) (Rome 1974) 73–79, with plan 3 (plan) and plan 8 (reconstructed section). Gortyn: A. Ortega, “Gortina: il Ninfeo presso il Pretorio,” AnAtene 48–49 (1986–87) 131–74 fig. 12. Philippi: S. Pelekanidès, “Ανασκαφή Φιλίππων”, Πρακτικά (1973) (55– 69) 60–61 fig. 2. Ephesus (Fountain opposite the stadium): W. Jobst, “Ein spätantike Straßenbrunnen in Ephesos”, in Studien zur spätantiken und byzantinischen Kunst. Festschrift für F. W. Deichmann, edd. O. Feld and U. Peschlow (Monographien des Römisch-germanisches Zentralmuseum 10.1) (Bonn 1986) (47–62) 53 fig. 3. Laodicea: C. Şimşek, Laodikeia (Laodicea ad Lycum) (Laodikeia Çalışmarları 2) (Istanbul 2013) 169 fig. 218. Antioch: J. Lassus, Antioch-on-the-Orontes 5: les portiques d’Antioche (Princeton 1972) plan 28 (section). B24a A façade transformed into a façade nymphaeum: The Agora Gate at Aphrodisias. Re-used friezes (of an amazonomachy, centauromachy, and gigantomachy) served as ballustrades for the basin, but are not visible here. Photo: R.R.R. Smith (already published, with thanks). B24b A façade transformed into a façade nymphaeum: the Heroon on the Embolos at Ephesus. The ballustrades were cut anew, probably in the 5th c. Photo: copyright Austrian Archaeological Institute A-WOAI-DIA-014824. B24c Elliptical fountain, Tipasa, possibly of 300–430: E. Gilbert and P. Lemaire CC BY-SA 4.0. B25a–d Street fountains: Cuicul (Sketch from L. Leschi Djemila. Antique Cuicul (Alger 1949) pp. 28–29); Stobi. (Photo: L. Lavan); Gortyn (Photo: E. Giorgi); Knidos (Photo: L. Lavan). B25e Sewer pipes and freshwater channel, laid together with the road paving, at Scythopolis, street by amphitheatre, showing an ?earlier complementary system revealed at a lower level. Photo: L. Lavan. B26a–b Road sections with sewers: Constantinople (west side of Hagia Sophia); Constantinople (Milion Sondage), Constantinople (Mese); Trier; Apamea; Caesarea Palestinae; Jerusalem (Cardo); Athens; Pompeii, comparative sections of sewers. Trier: E. Gose, L. Kilian, W. Reusch and E. Zahn, “Jahresbericht des Landesdienstes für Vor- und Frühgeschichte im Regierungsbezirk Trier und im Kreis Birkenfeld für die Jahre 1945–1958”, TrZ 24 (1956/58) (313–648, 659–61) 487–88 with fig. 87; Athens: P.G. Kalligas, “Acropolis station”, in Athens: the City Beneath the City. Antiquities from the Metropolitan Railway Excavations, edd. L. Parlama and N.C.

B26c

B26d B26e

B27a B27b

Stampolidis (Athens 2000) 54 fig. 9; Constantinople (Mese sewers in Forum of Constantine): C. Mango, “Constantine’s porphyry column and the chapel of St. Constantine”, Δελτίον XAE 10 (1980–81) (103–10) pl. 18a; Constantinople (Lower Mese, Milion Sondage): N. Fıratlı and T. Ergıl, “Divanyolu ‘Milion’ sondajı”, IstArkMùzYill 15/16 (1969) (199–212) fig. 1b; Constantinople (west side of Hagia Sophia): A.M. Schneider, Die Grabung im Westhof der Sophienkirche zu Istanbul (Istanbuler Forschungen 12) (Berlin 1941) table 2; Apamea: J. Mertens, “Sondages dans la grande colonnade et sur l’enceinte”, in Apamée de Syrie. Bilan des recherches archéologiques 1965–1968. Actes du colloque tenu à Bruxelles les 29 et 30 avril 1969, ed. Ja. Balty (Fouilles d’Apamée de Syrie Miscellanea 6) (Brussels 1969) (61–72) fig. 2b; Caesarea Palestinae: R.L. Vann, “Byzantine street construction at Caesarea Maritima”, in City, Town and Countryside in the Early Byzantine Era, ed. R.L. Hohlfelder (New York 1982) (165–98) fig. 16. Jerusalem (Cardo): O. Gutfeld, “The Cardo (Area X)—stratigraphy and architecture”, in Jewish Quarter Excavations in the Old City Jerusalem, Conducted by Nahman Avigad, 1969–1982, vol. 5: the Cardo (Area X) and the Nea Church (Areas D and T). Final Report, ed. O. Gutfeld (Jerusalem 2012) (13– 100) 37 section 1.2. Pompeii, comparative sections of sewers, after P. Riera, Utilitas necessaria: Sistemi idraulici nell’Italia romana (Milan 1994) 411. Street lighting, Ephesus, drawing from theatre, overlooking the Arcadiane: after Y. Seidel Künstliches Licht im individuellen, familiären und öffentlichen Lebensbereich (Vienna 2009) 114–15. Street lighting, Antioch 480s (Yakto mosaic). Photo: Dick Osseman, The Netherlands. Statue bases fronting a street portico, Upper Embolos, Ephesus. Photo: L. Lavan. Note that the first base is set on a levelled paving slab, part of the road paving of 410–36. Other statue bases here are re-set within a stone kerb added to the street in the period 576–601, likely when the portico was rebuilt. See fig. E6e for a similar 410–36 portico-statue arrangement, on the same street, without late 6th c. rebuilding. Pedimental façade, Ostia (Domus del Protiro). Photo: R. Newson. Street facades, concave and piered. Rome, (‘Temple of Romulus’), Philippi (episcopium, south and north), Rome (Basilica of Maxentius), Apamea (episcopium), and Ostia (Foro della statua eroica). Rome, (‘Temple of Romulus’): see F. P. Fiore, “L’impianto architettonico antico”, in ‘Tempio di Romolo’ al Foro Romano, edd. G. Flaccomio, E. Talamo

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B27c

Illustration Credits et al. (Rome 1981) (63–90) 70 fig. 91 (a different plan was used but reference mislaid); Philippi (episcopium, south and north): S. Pelekanides, “Ανασκαφή Φιλίππων”, Praktika (1973) (55–69) plan after 57. Rome (Basilica of Maxentius): A. Minoprio, “A restoration of the Basilica of Constantine, Rome”, BSR 12 (1932) 1–25, esp. 3–4, with plate 1 (plan with scale). Apamea (episcopium): Ja. and J. Ch. Balty, “Le cadre topographique et historique”, in Apamée de Syrie. Bilan des recherches archéologiques, 1965–1968: actes du colloque tenu à Bruxelles les 29 et 30 Avril 1969, ed. Ja. Balty (Brussels 1969) (29–46) 40–41 with fig. 3; Ostia (Foro della statua eroica): L. Lavan, “Public space in late antique Ostia: excavation and survey in 2008–2011”, AJA 116.4 (2012) (649–91) (667–76) with 670 fig. 16. Street façade, elevations: Rome (Basilica of Maxentius) porch, Athens (Palace of the Giants), Rome (ʻTemple of Romulusʼ), Cyrene (market building), Philippi (episcopium), Constantinople (Hagia Sophia), Constantinople (Senate on Augusteion), Scythopolis (West Baths), Arles (Imperial Palace). Rome (Basilica of Maxentius) porch: For a reconstruction see A. Minoprio, “A restoration of the Basilica of Constantine, Rome”, BSR 12 (1932) (1–25) plate 4 (elevation with scale). Athens (Palace of the Giants): A. Frantz The Athenian Agora, xxiv: Late Antiquity A.D. 267–700 (Princeton 1988) pl. 55b. Rome (ʻTemple of Romulusʼ): F. P. Fiore, “L’impianto architettonico antico”, in G. Flaccomio, E. Talamo, et al., ‘Tempio di Romolo’ al Foro Romano (Rome 1981) (63–90) 75 fig. 101. Cyrene (market building): S. Stucchi, LʼAgorà di Cirene, vol. 1.1: I lati nord ed est della platea inferiore (Rome 1965) 309 fig. 210. Philippi (episcopium): S. Pelekanidès, “Ανασκαφή Φιλίππων”, Πρακτικά (1969) (42–53) 50–53 for façade reconstructions on figs. 1–2. Constantinople (Hagia Sophia): based on A. M. Schneider, Die Grabung im Westhof der Sophienkirche zu Istanbul (Istanbuler Forschungen 12) (Berlin 1941) 11–13, with plan on plate 3 and 9–16 with plate 4 (reconstructed section), plate 5 (reconstructed profile, as artistic representation). Constantinople (Hagia Sophia): based on description of Procopius and remains observed in 16th c., using the porch of Hagia Sophia, described above: see vol. 2 appendices L2 and S12b. Scythopolis (West Baths): G. Mazor, “Center of ancient Beth Shean–south”: “The Bet Shean project”, in Excavations and Surveys in Israel 6 (1987–88) (10–23) 10, 22–23, with reconstructed elevation on p. 24 with fig. 11. Arles (Palace): M. Heijmans, Arles durant l’antiquité tardive: de la Duplex Arelas à l’Urbs Genesii (CEFR 324) (Rome 2004) 205 fig. 123.

B27d Street façade, Rome, ‘Temple of Romulus’. Photo: L. Lavan. B27e Portico façade of S. Lorenzo, Milan. Photo: L. Lavan. B27f Porches set within porticoes, ‘Anjar. After B. Finster, “Researches in ‘Anjar. I. Preliminary report on the architecture of ‘Anjar,” BAAL 7 (2003) 209–244, figs. 11 (great palace), 15 (small palace), 23 (mosque). B27g The Cardo of Apamea, Syria. A colonnaded street of 2nd c. date, today providing the most evocative extant parallel to the main colonnaded avenue of Constantine’s new capital, the Upper Mese. Photo: Rafael Medina CC BY-NC-ND 2.0 https://www.flickr.com/ photos/copepodo/2770836257. B28a Stepped side roads: one of many repaved in Late Antiquity at Ephesus, leading north from the Embolos. Photo: L. Lavan. Note the striations which only occur on the right-hand side of the roadway, for those descending. Here, only the lower section of the road was relaid in reused paving. The upper is earlier, preserving sidewalks on both sides and overflow outlets for a vaulted storm drain that runs beneath the roadway, features which were not retained in the paving of the earlier 5th c. B28b Paestum, central area, showing Early Imperial encroachments of minor streets. After E. Greco and D. Theodorescu Poseidonia-Paestum 1: La ‘curia’ (CEFR 42) (Rome 1980) fig. 2. B29 Comparative plan of well-organised post-antique street encroachments, building over the roadway itself: Hierapolis, Palmyra, and Ptolemais. Hierapolis: P. Arthur, Byzantine and Turkish Hierapolis (Pamukkale) (Istanbul 2006) with map on p. 47 fig. 12 (where the scale does not correspond to measurements given in the text). Palmyra: K. al-Asʿad and F.M. Stepniowski, “The Umayyad suq in Palmyra”, DM 4 (1989) (205–23) fig. 1. Ptolemais: J.B. Ward-Perkins, J.H. Little and D.J. Mattingly, “Town houses at Ptolemais, Cyrenaica: a summary report of survey and excavation work in 1971, 1978–1979”, LibSt 17 (1986) (109–53) 144–48, 149–52, with dimensions taken from my measurement of p. 150, fig. 23. C1 Adventus: Galerius enters an eastern city, Arch of Galerius, Thessalonica. Photo: L. Lavan. C2a Circus parades: Consular sarcophagus from San Lorenzo, Rome. Photos: Mrs. G. Fittschen-Badura arachne.dainst.org/entity/5332338; arachne.dainst.org/ entity/5332336. C2b Consular parade in a chariot: opus sectile mosaic from funerary basilica of consul Junius Bassus, who died in A.D. 359. Photo: Jean-Pol GRANDMONT / CC BY (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0). C3a Victory parade: ?Tetrarchic medallion from Olbia, Diocletian’s consular medallion of 287. Medallion from

561

Illustration Credits

C3b

C4

C5

C6

C7

C8

D1







Olbia: sketch from M.L. Gualandi and A. Pinelli, “Un trionfo per due. La matrice di Olbia: un unicum iconografico ‘fuori contesto’”, in Conosco un ottimo storico dell’arte. Per Enrico Castelnuovo. Scritti di allievi e amici pisani edd. M.M. Donato and M. Ferretti (Pisa 2012) (11–20) 11 figs. 1–2. Redrawn by A. Merry 2019. Victory parade: Diocletian’s consular medallion of 287: M. Bernhart (1926) Handbuch zur Münzkunde der römischen Kaiserzeit, 2 vols. (Halle 1926) pl. 81.7. Redrawn by A. Merry 2019. Punishment Parade / Triumph: parade of senior captives on camels alongside loot, from the Column of Theodosius I (after 16th c. drawings by F. Battista, Musée du Louvre, inv. 4951). Photos (C) RMN-Grand Palais (musée du Louvre) / Jean-Gilles Berizzi. Parade to the Baths: Mosaic from Piazza Armerina (4th c.), showing a rich lady walking in procession surrounded by servants, with all she needed for bathing. Photo: Neil Weightmann (CC BY 2.0) https://www .flickr.com/photos/neil_weightman/270143132/in/set -72157594329186881/. Sacrifice procession: Tetrarchic Decennalia monument, Rome. (C. Fargalia D-DAI-Rom Neg 35.356–358, H. Behrens D-DIA-Neg 2008.2272). Festival procession: festival costumes, Museum of Sardinian Life and Folk Traditions, Nuoro. Photo: F. Morgan. Redrawn by A. Merry 2019. Marriage ceremony: mosaic of marriage of Moses and Sephora, S. Maria Maggiore, Rome, Triumphal Arch, early 430s AD. Sketch from photo presented on https:// twitter.com/ticiaverveer/ (last accessed May 2019). Redrawn by A. Merry 2019. Forms of transport: Porter with baskets on pole (rural setting); Mules and muleteer with stick. Antioch, 480s; Plaustrum for hay?; Plaustrum for liquids; Cage wagon for animals, 4-wheeled; Chariot; Trap, for single horse, with four wheels; Carpentum of Praetorian Prefect for Illyricum; Carpentum in a consular adventus, Italy; Basterna sedan chair carried by mules. All redrawn by A. Merry 2019. Porter with baskets on pole (rural setting) from G. Wilpert I Sarcofagi cristiani antichi vol. 1.2 tavole (Rome 1929) table 49. Mules and muleteer with stick. Antioch, 480s: sketch from J. Lassus, “La mosaïque de Yakto”, in Antioch-onthe Orontes, vol. 1: The Excavations of 1932, ed. G.W. Elderkin (Princeton-London 1934) (114–56) 144 fig. 21. Plaustrum for hay?: G. Wilpert, I Sarcofagi cristiani antichi vol. 1.2 tavole (Rome 1929) table 47. Plaustrum for liquids: G. Wilpert, I Sarcofagi cristiani antichi vol. 1.2 tavole (Rome 1929) table 85.











D2

D3

D4

D5

Plaustrum for large timber, Antioch, 480s: sketch from J. Lassus, “La mosaïque de Yakto”, in Antioch-on-the Orontes, vol. 1: The Excavations of 1932, ed. G.W. Elderkin (Princeton-London 1934) (114–56) 143 fig. 20. Cage wagon for animals, 4-wheeled, Piazza Armerina mosaic, later 4th c. (Wikimedia). Chariot, Italian sarcophagus: G. Wilpert, I Sarcofagi cristiani antichi vol. 1.2 tavole (Rome 1929) table 82. Trap, for single horse, with four wheels: 4th c. mosaics, House of Menander, Antioch: F. Cimok ed., Antioch Mosaics. A Corpus (Istanbul 2000) 176–77. Carpentum of Praetorian Prefect for Illyricum, sketch from Notitia Dignitatum Bavarian manuscript. Bayerische Staatsbibliothek BSB Clm 10291, Speyer, 1542 and 1550–51. https://daten.digitale-sammlungen.de/~db/ ausgaben/thumbnailseite.html?id=00005863& seite=1&image=.jpg&fip=193.174.98.30. Carpentum in a consular adventus, Italian sarcophagus: G. Wilpert, I Sarcofagi cristiani antichi vol. 1.2 tavole (Rome 1929) table 21. Basterna sedan chair carried by mules: P1200374 from late antique church mosaic floor of Tayibat Al-Imam, AD 447, Syria: http://silveroses69.blogspot.co.uk/2009/ 03/march-13th-day-trip-to-dead-cities-and.html (accessed November 2017). Wheelruts at Sardis. Redrawn from G. M. A. Hanfmann “The fourth campaign at Sardis (1961)”, BASOR 166 (1962) fig. 33. Striations for animal grip, on the Upper Embolos, in early 5th c. paving, on the right-hand side of the road for those descending the hill. Photo: L. Lavan. Street life in Antioch, 480s. Yakto mosaic, collage: sketch from J. Lassus, “La mosaïque de Yakto”, in Antioch-on-the Orontes, vol. 1: The Excavations of 1932, ed. G.W. Elderkin (Princeton-London 1934) (114–56). With thanks to Brigitte Pitarakis. Redrawn by A. Merry 2019. Crosses in context, with suggested meanings (left to right, top to bottom): Alahan lintel (as a passage prayer), Perge (sanctifying an official act), Aphrodisias city gate (identitarian or atropaic against siege, as on inside face), Hierapolis Baths (atropaic, against earthquake), Sagalassos Hadrianic nymphaeum (single cross, centre of monument, atropaic), Thessalonica statue base (atropaic), Ephesus tetrakionon (decorative), Aphrodisias church portal (votive), Sardis Temple (votive, as many?), Sagalassos outside shop (identitarian, shop owner), Perge (cross monuments depicted, graffito), Athens Roman Agora (graffiti). These crosses have either been published by me previously or are well-known features in public areas of archaeological parks.

562 E1

Extant late antique plazas of Constantinople: Forum of Theodosius and Basilica courtyard. Forum of Theodosius: R. Naumann, “Neue Beobachtungen am Theodosiusbogen und Forum Tauri in Istanbul”, IstMitt 26 (1976) (117–41) fig. 5; Forum of Constantine: after plan of Mamboury published in J. Bardill, “The Palace of Lausus and nearby monuments in Constantinople: a topographical study”, AJA 101.1 (1997) (67–95) 72, fig. 3. Basilica courtyard: after the plans of Mamboury in C. Mango, The Brazen House: a Study of the Vestibule of the Imperial Palace of Constantinople (Copenhagen 1959) fig. 38, plus W. Kleiss, “Beobachtungen in der Hagia Sophia in Istanbul”, IstMitt 15 (1965) (168–85) 150 fig. 1, which are drawn together in Bardill (1997) 70 fig. 2. E2 Rectangular plazas built in Late Antiquity, outside Constantinople: Aphrodisias, Scythopolis, St Bertrand de Comminges, Ostia (Foro della statua eroica), Tripolis ad Meandrum. Scythopolis: Y. Tsafrir and G. Foerster, “Urbanism at Scythopolis-Bet Shean in the fourth to seventh centuries”, DOP 51 (1997) (72–111) 122–23 with fig. D. Aphrodisias: K. Erim and R.R.R. Smith, “Sculpture from the theatre: a preliminary report”, in Aphrodisias Papers 2. The Theater, A Sculptor’s Workshop, Philosophers and Coin-Types, edd. R.R.R. Smith and K. Erim (Ann Arbor, MI 1991) (67–98) fig. 1 plus http://insaph.kcl.ac.uk/ala2004/iPlans/0001/06. html (last accessed February 2016). St. Bertrand de Comminges: G. Fabre and J.L. Paillet, Saint-Bertrandde-Comminges, vol. 4: Le macellum (Pessac 2009) 114– 115, with plan ‘état 3’. Ostia (Foro della statua eroica): E. Boast. Tripolis ad Meandrum: httpswww.pau.edu. trtripolistrsayfa2016-6 fig. 2 (last accessed June 2020). E3a The tetrastoon at Aphrodisias, a new plaza of the later 4th c. Photo: L. Lavan, already published in “Fora and agorai in Mediterranean cities: fourth and fifth centuries AD”, in Social and Political Life in Late Antiquity, edd. W. Bowden, C. Machado and A. Gutteridge (Late Antique Archaeology 3) (Leiden 2006) (195–249) 198 fig. 2. E3b East Propylon of the Roman Agora, Athens, containing repairs in visible reused material, as in the paving and steps of the central passage. Photo: L. Lavan. E3c Propylon 1 of the North Agora, Laodicea, built 284– 305, according to the excavators, without substantiating evidence: L. Bosworth 2020 after C. Şimşek, Laodikeia (Laodicea ad Lycum) (Laodikeia Çalişmalari 2) (Istanbul 2013) 139 fig. 70. Note uncertainties in the phase depicted here, in the entry in appendix K2b. E4a Ramp, with striations for grip, probably established to allow animal access to the agora, Philippi. Photo: L. Lavan.

Illustration Credits E4b

Late agora porticoes at Megalopolis, Aphrodisias (Tetrastoon), and Sagalassos (Upper and Lower Agorai). Photos L. Lavan, and R.R.R. Smith for Aphrodisias (already published, with thanks). Note the two different styles of the adjacent porticoes at Aphrodisias. E5a Paving slabs, different styles: the Forum of Iol Caesarea, the Forum of Ostia (portico) and in the Foro della statua eroica, also Ostia. Iol Caesarea: T. Potter, Towns in Late Antiquity: Iol Caesarea and its Context (Ian Sanders Memorial Fund Occasional Publication 2) (Oxford 1995) 38 fig. 17. Ostia (Forum portico): A. Gering, “Das Stadtzentrum von Ostia in der Spätantike. Vorbericht zu den Ausgrabungen 2008–2011 mit Beiträgen von Lena Kaumanns und Luke Lavan”, RömMitt 117 (2011) (409–509) 471 fig. 53. Ostia (Foro della statua eroica): Kent Ostia Project records. E5b Civil basilicas built in Late Antiquity, or just before: Complutum, Cuicul, Sabratha, Constantinople (Forum of Theodosius). Complutum, Basilica in the second period of forum, courtesy of S. Rascon-Marques. Cuicul: P.A. Février, Djemila (Alger 1971) map. Sabratha: P.M. Kenrick, Excavations at Sabratha 1948–1951. A Report on the Excavations Conducted by Dame Kathleen Kenyon and John Ward-Perkins (JRS Monograph no. 2) (London 1986) 81 fig. 32. Constantinople (Forum of Theodosius): reconstruction from texts. E5c Civil basilica, Sabratha. Photo: sebastiagiralt CC BYNC-SA 2.0. E6a An imperial image in colour: Paolo Liverani’s reconstruction of the Vatican Ariadne, from paint traces on her bonnet and eyes. LSA 755, late 5th to early 6th c. Photo: P. Liverani. E6b Above: Late antique statue monuments found with bases, from Asia Minor. Aphrodisias: Rhodopaios (pater and senator) [6th c.], Pytheas (a notable and senator) [late 5th c.], Flavius Palmatus praeses Cariae [sometime 460–535]. Tripolis ad Meandrum: Unnamed chlamys statue. Ephesus: Stephanus proconsul Asiae [ca. 410]. Below: Late statue base examples collated by LSA. Aphrodisias: J. Lenaghan, “Another statue in context: Rhodopaios at Aphrodisias”, in Visual Histories of the Classical World: Essays in Honour of R.R.R. Smith, ed. R. Raja (Turnhout 2019) 502–518 with LSA; R.R.R. Smith, “Late antique portraits in a public context: honorific statuary at Aphrodisias in Caria, AD 300–600,” JRS 89 (1999) 169 figs. 8 -9. LSA 147–48. Tripolis ad Meandrum: Sketch from B. Duman and H.H. Baysal, “Tripolis Ad Maeandrum 2014 Yılı Kazı, Onarım ve Koruma Çalışmaları”, Kazı Sonuçları Toplantısı 37.1 (2016) (563–584) 579 fig. 5. The scale for the Aphrodisias statue comes from LSA 198 (201.5 cm high for the statue, without plinth), that for the Tripolis statue

Illustration Credits from elsewhere on the published figure. Ephesus: LSA 698 and LSA 372 from which measurements are derived. Neither Pytheas nor Rhodopaios are listed in my appendices, from oversight and new publication. The LSA bases are redrawn by L. Bosworth from R.R.R. Smith and B. Ward-Perkins (2016) edd. The Last Statues of Antiquity (Oxford and New York 2016) fig 2.1. E6c Uninscribed statue base, in composite monument, with non-matching crowning element and supporting block, Lower Agora of Sagalassos. Photo: L. Lavan. Already published as L. Lavan, “The agorai of Sagalassos in Late Antiquity: an interpretive study”, in Field Methods and Post-Excavation Techniques in Late Antique Archaeology, edd. L. Lavan and M. Mulryan (Late Antique Archaeology 9) (Leiden-Boston 2013) (289–353) 310 fig. 6a. E6d Statue base emplacements: late groups set on porticoes: Gortyn, Ephesus, Tripolis ad Meandrum, and Sagalassos. Gortyn: E. Lippolis, M. Livadiotti, G. Rocco, I. Baldini, G. Vallarino, “Gortyna. Il tempio del Caput aquae e Il tessuto urbano circostante: campagna di scavo 2007”, ASAA 88 (2010) (511–37) 536 fig. 18. Ephesus (Upper Agora, East Portico): H. Vetters, “Ephesos. Vorläufiger Grabungsbericht 1971”, AnzWien 109 (1972) (83–103) fig. 1. Tripolis ad Meandrum: B. Duman and H.H. Baysal, “Tripolis ad Maeandrum 2014 yili kazi, onarim ve koruma çalişmalari”, Kazi Sonuçlari Toplantisi 37.1 (2016) (563–584) 576 plan 1. Sagalassos: L. Lavan, “The agorai of Sagalassos in Late Antiquity: an interpretive study”, in Field Methods and PostExcavation Techniques in Late Antique Archaeology, edd. L. Lavan and M. Mulryan (Late Antique Archaeology 9) (Leiden-Boston 2013) (289–353) 311 fig. 6b. E6e Statue bases set on a street portico (3 examples surviving in situ / almost in situ of a row of 8): Ephesus, Embolos, Alytarch Stoa. Photo: L. Lavan. Note that all bases are set on level blocks integrated with the road paving, whilst the last base stands on a block that is also structurally part of the the portico. Thus, the row was erected with the portico and the paving. E7a–h Statue base distributions in fora / agorai and one street with well-preserved late antique epigraphic fields: Aquileia, Thamugadi, Cuicul, Lepcis Magna, Aphrodisias (Tetrastoon), Sagalassos (Lower Agora), Sagalassos (Upper Agora), Ephesus (Embolos). Aquileia: F. Maselli-Scotti and C. Zaccaria, “Novità epigrafiche dal foro di Aquileia. A proposito della base di T. Annius T. F. Tri. Vir.”, in Epigrafia romana in area adriatica (Actes de la IXe rencontre franco-italienne sur l’épigraphie du monde romain, Macerata, 10–11 Novembre 1995 (Macerata 1998) 113–60 fig. 1. Thamugadi: G. Zimmer and G. Wesch-Klein, Locus datus decreto decurionum: zur

563 Statuenaufstellung zweier Forumsanlagen im römischen Afrika (Munich 1989) 39 fig. 16. Cuicul: G. Zimmer and G. Wesch-Klein, Locus datus decreto decurionum: zur Statuenaufstellung zweier Forumsanlagen im römischen Afrika (Munich 1989) 18 fig. 5. Lepcis Magna: Leptis Magna. Una città e le sue iscrizioni in epoca tardoromana, edd. I. Tantillo and F. Bigi (Cassino 2010) table 1. Aphrodisias (Tetrastoon): Plan 6: Theatre, Tetrastoon, and Theatre Baths from http://insaph.kcl. ac.uk/ala2004/ (last accessed May 2019). Sagalassos (Lower Agora): L. Lavan, “The agorai of Sagalassos in Late Antiquity: an interpretive study”, in Field Methods and Post-Excavation Techniques in Late Antique Archaeology, edd. L. Lavan and M. Mulryan (Late Antique Archaeology 9) (Leiden-Boston 2013) (289–353) 301 fig. 3 with 302 table 1. Sagalassos (Upper Agora): Lavan (2013) 321 fig. 10b. Ephesus: Multiple sources used, see appendix H7. E8a Bouleuterion of Nysa, showing repair to stage wall in reused blocks (photo: L. Lavan 2003). E8b-c Curiae constructed in Late Antiquity: Rome (Secretarium, ‘Atrium Minervae’, Curia Senatus) and Sabratha. Rome (Secretarium, ‘Atrium Minervae’, Curia Senatus): after A. di Sangallo’s 16th c. plan in R. Lanciani, “L’aula e gli uffici del senato romano: curia hostilia iulia: secretarium senatus”, in Atti della Accademia dei Lincei. Memorie della Classe di scienze morali, storiche e filologiche 258 (3rd series) (1882–83) plan between 54–55. Sabratha: after R. Bartoccini, “La curia di Sabratha”, QAL 1 (1950) 30 fig. 1. E8d The curia of Sabratha, rebuilt in 364–67, showing the interior, with the last step added sometime within 364–442. Photo: Sasha Coachman, CC-BY-SA 3.0. E8e A professionally-cut gameboard, with seating, from a reused statue base and cornices, in the tetragonal agora, Perge. Photo: L. Lavan. Already published in L. Lavan, “Fora and agorai in Mediterranean cities: fourth and fifth centuries AD”, in Social and Political Life in Late Antiquity, edd. W. Bowden, C. Machado and A. Gutteridge (Late Antique Archaeology 3) (Leiden 2006) (195–249) 223 fig. 4. E9a Ostia, Small Temple of the Palaestra, repurposed from a fountain. Photo: C. Krug. E9b Saepinum, Forum, ‘Temple of Jupiter’ with line of reused statue bases, for Augustus Constantine (‘begotten of the gods’), Augusta Helena (as mother of Constantine, grandmother of the two Caesars, and wife of the divine Constantius), and three missing late dedications, likely to Caesar Constantius I, Caesar Constantine II (on each flank) and the Divine Constantius I (on the central plinth), likely erected as a group 326– 30. Photo: L. Lavan.

564 E9c

Sala, Forum, line of reused statue bases, for Constantine and imperial colleagues, likely erected together 317–24. Photo: I. Tantillo. F1 New / refurbished agorai of late 5th to 7th c. date: Laodicea, Abu Mina, and Philadelphia (Amman). Laodicea: C. Şimşek, Laodikeia (Laodicea ad Lycum) (Laodikeia Çalişmalari 2) (Istanbul 2013) 276 fig. 371. Abu Mina: P. Grossmann et al., “Abū Mînā. 13 Vorläufiger Bericht, Kampagnen 1987–1989”, AA (1995) (389– 423) 391 fig. 1. Philadelphia (Amman): I. Arce, “The Umayyad congregational mosque and the Souq Square complex on the Amman Citadel. Architectural features and urban significance”, in Proceedings of the Second International Congress on the Archaeology of the Ancient Near East, Copenhagen 2000, vol. 2, ed. I. Thuesen (Winona Lake 2002) (121–142) 122 fig. B. F2 The rebuilding of the Forum of Theodosius, Constantinople, in the 6th c. After R. Naumann, “Neue Beobachtungen am Theodosiusbogen und Forum Tauri in Istanbul”, IstMitt 26 (1976) (117–41) fig. 5. F3a The round plaza of Dyrrachium (500–525). Photo: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Gertjan R. F3b The Circular Harbour of Carthage, as rebuilt under Justinian, after H. Hurst, “Excavations at Carthage 1977–8. Fourth interim report”, AntJ 59 (1979) 19–49. F4 Porticoes constructed on agorai at Philippi (ca. 500) and Ephesus, Lower Agora (later 6th c.) Photo: L. Lavan. F5 The Antonine Nymphaeum, Upper Agora of Sagalassos, rebuilt with non-original statuary, and some elements misplaced from the front and rear of the structure. Photo: SNIngo Mehling CC BY SA 3.0 licence. F6 Acclamations in favour of Albinus, clarissimus, from columns of the south agora, Aphrodisias, sometime within or after the reign of Justinian [527–614]: ALA 83. F7 Professionally-cut gameboards, with crosses as rosettes, from the Upper Agora of Ephesus and from close to the western edge of the agora of Aphrodisias (ALA 70). Photos: L. Lavan. Redrawn by A. Merry 2019. F8 Horologion inaugurated on the agora of Gaza, as described by Choricius. Reconstruction of H. Diels, Über die von Prokop beschriebene Kunstuhr von Gaza (Abhandlungen der königlich preussischen Akademie der Wissenschaften) (Berlin 1917) plate 1. F9 Overbuilding by churches: the lower agora of Pergamon. W. Dörpfeld, “Die 1900–1901 in Pergamon gefundenen Bauwerke”, AthMitt (1902) (10–43) 16f with 32 fig. 4. G1 Possible market stalls at Sagalassos, Upper Agora (redrawn by L. Figg and L. Lavan from site plans, 2010). G2 Possible market stalls at Sagalassos, detail; Sagalassos, Upper Agora cleaning, 2006 (after P. Cosyns). G3 A market stall, Antioch, 480s. Yakto Mosaic. Photo: D. Osseman, The Netherlands.

Illustration Credits G4

A market stall shown in the Rossano Gospels (Wikimedia). G5 Comparative plans of some new-built late antique market buildings: the basilica vestiaria at Cuicul, that at Thamugadi, the replanned Hellenistic market building at Cyrene, a macellum identified by bone dumps at Geneva, and a possible macellum from Athens. Cuicul: P.A. Février, Djemila (Alger 1971) 61 with city plan (building 16). Thamugadi: A. Ballu, Théâtre et forum de Timgad: antique Thamugadi: état actuel et restauration (Paris 1902) plate VII. Cyrene: S. Stucchi, L‘Agorà di Cirene, vol. 1.1: I lati nord ed est della platea inferiore (Rome 1965) 308 fig. 208. Geneva: C. de Ruyt, Macellum: marché alimentaire des Romains (Publications d‘Histoire de l‘Art et d‘Archéologie de l‘Université Catholique de Louvain 35) (Louvain-la-Neuve 1983) 73–75, with fig. 28. Athens: A. Frantz The Athenian Agora, xxiv: Late Antiquity A.D. 267–700 (Princeton 1988) plate 6 (drawn by L. Figg and L. Lavan, 2010). G6 Tetragonal agora of Perge: refurbished in Late Antiquity. From I.R. Işiklikaya-Laubscher, “Mosaics in Perge. Preliminary report on the mosaics of the macellum”, in 11th International Colloquium on Ancient Mosaics, October 16th–20th, 2009, Bursa, Turkey, ed. M. Şahin (Istanbul 2011) 467–81. G7 Comparative plans of structures converted into halls of cellular rooms in Late Antiquity (the date of the shops in the Baths at Side is not yet confirmed), at the same scale (drawn by L. Figg, 2010). G8a Comparative plans of sigma plazas, at the same scale: Corinth, Philippi, Stobi, Scythopolis (Sigma A), and Scythopolis (Sigma B). Corinth: R.L. Scranton, Mediaeval Architecture in the Central Area of Corinth (Corinth 16) (Princeton 1957) 12–14 with plan 5. Philippi: J. Coupry, “Sondage a l‘ouest du forum de Philippes”, BCH 62 (1938) 42–50 with pl.14 providing the excavation plan. Stobi: J. Wiseman, “The city in Macedonia Secunda”, in Villes et peuplement dans l‘Illyricum protobyzantin: Actes du colloque organisé par l‘École française de Rome 12–14 mai 1982 (Rome 1984) (289– 314) 307 fig. 13. Scythopolis (Sigma A): R. Bar-Nathan and G. Mazor, “City centre (south) and Tel Iztabba area: excavations of the Antiquities Authority Expedition”, Excavations and Surveys in Israel 11 (1992) (The Beth She‘an Excavation Project 1989–91) (33–52) fig. 60. Scythopolis (Sigma B): G. Foerster and Y. Tsafrir, “City center (north): excavations of the Hebrew University expedition”, Excavations and Surveys in Israel 11 (1992) (The Beth She‘an Excavation Project 1989–91) (3–32) 29–30 with fig. 45 (the plan). G8b Sigma Plazas: Stobi and Scythopolis. Photos: L. Lavan. G9a Comparative plan of cellular shops built in Late Antiquity: Tralleis, Patara, Aizanoi, and Sardis. Tralleis:

Illustration Credits R. Dinç, “Late Roman–Early Byzantine shops”, in Tralleis Rehberi / Guide by R. Dinç (Istanbul 2003) 34 fig. 28. Patara: F. Alanyalı, “Patara Hurmalik Hamami 2005–2008 yili arkeoloji ve belegeleme çalişmalarina genel bir bakiş”, in Kültür Varlikarinin Belegelenmesi, edd. A. Çabuk and F. Alanyalı (Eskişehir 2009) 117–43, esp. 123 fig. 11, which provides a plan. Aizanoi: K. Rheidt, “Aizanoi. Bericht über die Ausgrabungen, Restaurierungs- und Sicherungsarbeiten 1994, 1995 und 1996”, AA (1997) (431–64) 439 fig. 6. Sardis: J.S. Crawford, The Byzantine Shops at Sardis (Archaeological Exploration of Sardis 9) (Cambridge, Mass. 1990). G9b Comparative plan of cellular shops built in Late Antiquity. Athens (Library of Pantainos), Justiniana Prima, Ephesus (Alytarch Stoa), Abu Mina (3 examples). Athens, Library of Pantainos: A. Frantz, The Athenian Agora, xxiv: Late Antiquity A.D. 267–700 (Princeton 1988) 67 with plate 48b. Justiniana Prima (Shops of East Avenue, Upper City): V. Kondić and V. Popović, Caričin Grad: Utvrđeno naselje u vizantijskom Iliriku (Belgrade 1977) 61 with fig. 40. Ephesus (Alytarch Stoa): C. Lang-Auinger, Hanghaus 1 in Ephesos. Der Baubefund (Forschungen in Ephesos vol. 8/3)

565 (Vienna 1996) provides a good architectural study of the shops and their relationship to the houses behind, esp. 119–134 with plans 2–4. Abu Mina: P. Grossmann and J. Kosciuk, “Report on the Excavations at Abu Mina 2005”, Bulletin de la Société d’Archéologie Copte 44 (2005) 29–44, figs. 1 and 3. G10 Shops with collective barrel vaults: Ephesus, Lower Agora and Patara. Photos L. Lavan. Both already published as L. Lavan, “From polis to emporion? retail and regulation in the late antique city”, in Trade and Markets in Byzantium, ed. C. Morrisson (Washington D.C. 2012) (333–77) 354 figs. 14.9. G11 Internal fixtures of late antique shops: Ostia, bar counter; Ephesus, cupboards; Side, counter with vat for holding liquids; Sardis, basin. Photos L. Lavan. Redrawn by A. Merry 2019. G12 Constantinople, as reconstructed by Tayfun Oner, a city dominated by civic space, with hippodrome, baths, grand avenue, law courts, public library, senate, and forum. Churches and hospitals sit within the classical city but do not overturn it. This interpretation, intended to be of 1200, better reflects the city in 616, as it turned to face the Middle Ages. Copyright T. Oner.

Bibliography Primary Sources In the case of Theophanes, Malalas, and Chronicon Pascale, I have followed dates given in the annotated translations of Mango and Scott, Jeffreys and Jeffreys, Whitby and Whitby. Often the official dates given in the unedited sources have slipped back or advanced forward by a number of years. Thus, I prefer to use the dates offered in these translations, which have been cross-referenced with other sources. ACO = E. Schwartz et al. edd., Acta Conciliorum Oecumenicorum (Berlin-Leipzig 1922–95). Acts of the Abitinian Martyrs = M.A. Tilley transl., Donatist Martyr Stories. The Church in Conflict in Roman North Africa (Translated Texts for Historians 24) (Liverpool 1996) 25–49, which uses manuscript Bibliothèque Nationale Latin 5297. See also texts printed in PL 8.688–703, 8.703–15. Acts of the Council of Ephesus, A.D. 431 = W. Kraatz, Koptische Akten zum ephesenischen Konzil vom Jahre 431 (Texte und Untersuchungen N. F. 11.2) (Leipzig 1904); U. Bouirant, La Bibliothèque du Deïr-Amba Shenoudi: deuxième partie, Actes du Concile d’Ephèse (Mémoires publiés par les membres de la mission archéologique française au Caire 8.1) (Paris 1892) (the latter book I have not seen). Acts of the Council of Ephesus, A.D. 449 = J. Flemming and G. Hoffmanns edd. and transl., Akten der Ephesinischen Synode vom Jahre 449: syrisch (Berlin 1917). Agath. = R. Keydell ed., Agathiae Myrinaei Historiarum libri quinque (Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae 2) (Berlin 1967); J.D. Frendo transl., Agathias: The Histories (Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae 2a) (Berlin 1975). Agnellus Lib. = D. Mauskopf Deliyannis ed., Agnellus Raven­ natis. Liber pontificalis ecclesiae Ravennatis, edited Latin Text with Introduction (Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 199) (Turnhout 2006); D. Mauskopf Deliyannis transl., Agnellus of Ravenna: The Book of Pontiffs of the Church of Ravenna (Washington D.C. 2004). See also, O. Holder-Egger ed., Agnelli qui et Andreas liber pontificalis ecclesiae Ravennatis (MGH Scriptores rerum Langobardicarum et Italicarum saec. VI–IX) (Hanover 1878) 265–391. The latter is the edition that I have been able to use. Al-Tabari = M. Fishbein transl., The History of Al Tabari, vol. 8: The Victory of Islam: Muhammad at Medina A.D. 626– 630 / AH 5–8 (Albany 1997). Not seen in original. Amb. Ep. = M. Zelzer ed., Sancti Ambrosi Opera (CSEL 82) (1999); J.H.W.G. Liebeschuetz transl., Ambrose of Milan: Political Letters and Speeches (Liverpool 2005).

Amb. Hymni = PL 17.1209–60. Amb. In Luc. = PL 15.1603–1944. Amb. In ps. = PL 15.1257–1604. Amb. Off. = I.J. Davidson ed. and transl., De Officiis: Edited with an Introduction, Translation, and Commentary, 2 vols. (Oxford 2001). Amm. Marc. = J.C. Rolfe transl., Ammianus Marcellinus, 3 vols. (Loeb Classical Library) (London-Cambridge, Mass. 1935– 39) (with Latin text). Anastasius of Sinai, Tales of the Sinai Fathers = D.F. Caner et al. transl., History and Hagiography from the Late Antique Sinai (Translated Texts for Historians 53) (Liverpool 2010) 172–202. Based on text edited by A. Binggeli, Anastase le Sinaïte. Récits sur le Sinaï et récits utiles à l’âme. Edition, traduction, commentaire, 2 vols. (Ph.D. diss. Paris IV 2001) (the latter text I have not seen). Anna Comnena, Alexiad = A. Reifferscheid ed., Annae Comnenae Porphyrogenitae Alexias, 2 vols. (repr. Leipzig 1884). Annals of Ravenna = B. Bischoff and W. Koehler, “Un’edizione illustrata degli Annali Ravennati del basso impero”, Studi Romagnoli 3 (1952) 3–19. Anon. Vales. = T. Mommsen ed., Chronica Minora Saec. IV–VII, vol. 1. (MGH AA, vol. 9) (Berlin 1892, repr. Munich 1961) 1–12 (for Origio Constantinis), 259–62; J.C. Rolfe transl., “Excerpta Valesiana”, in Ammianus Marcellinus: Roman History, vol. 3: Books 27–31. (Cambridge, Mass. 1939) 508–69 (for both Constantine and Theodoric). Anonymous Chronicle on Constantine = M. Guidi. ed., “Un bios di Costantino”, in Rendiconti della R. Accademia dei Lincei. Classe di Scienze morali, storiche e filologiche, (5th series) 16 (1907) 304–40, 637–62; S. Lieu transl., “Constantine Byzantinus: the anonymous Life of Constantine (BHG 364),” in From Constantine to Julian: Pagan and Byzantine Views, A Source History, edd. S.N.C. Lieu and D. Montserrat (London 1996) 97–146. Anonymous Greek Passion of St. Demetrius: Act. Sanct. Oct. IV, 90–94 = PG 116.1173–84 (BHG 497). Anth. Graec. = W.R. Patton ed. and transl., The Greek Anthology, 5 vols. (London 1916–25) (with Greek text). Anth. Lat. = F. Bücheler and A. Reise edd., Anthologia Latina, 2 vols. (Leipzig 1894); D.R. Shackleton Bailey ed. Anthologia Latina I: Carmina in codicibus scripta, Fasc. 1: Libri Salmasiani aliorumque carmina (Stuttgart 1982), of which I have not been able to obtain Shackleton Bailey. Some of the poems are in English in N.M. Kay transl., Epigrams from the Anthologia Latina. Text, Translation and Commentary (London 2006). Anth. Pal. = W.R. Patton ed. and transl., The Greek Anthology, 5 vols. (London 1916–25).

Bibliography Aphthonius of Antioch Progymnasmata = H. Rabe ed., Rhetores Graeci 10 (Leipzig 1926). Apul. Met. = R. Helm ed., Apuleius I: Metamorphoseon Libri XI 3rd edn. (Leipzig 1968); W. Adlington and S. Gaselee transl., Apuleius. The Golden Ass. (London 1915). Arian, Anabasis Alexandri = P.A. Brunt transl., Arrian, 2 vols. (Loeb Classical Library) (Cambridge, Mass. 1976–83). Asterius Amas. Hom. = PG 40.163–478. Asterius Amas. Or. = PG 40.163–478. Ath. Apol. c. Ar. 50 = PG 25.247–414. Ath. Concilii Sardicensis ad Mareoticas Eccl. epistola = PG 26.1331–33. Ath. Hist. Ar. = H.G. Opitz ed., Athanasius Werke (Berlin-Leipzig 1934–41). August. c. Lit. Pet. = M. Petschenig ed., Sancti Aureli Augustini Scripta contra Donatista (CSEL 52) (Vienna and Leipzig 1909) 3–227. August. Conf. = W. Yates ed. and transl., St. Augustine’s Confessions in Two Volumes (London and Cambridge, Mass. 1946) (with Latin text). August. c. Faust = J. Zycha ed., Augustinus. De utilitate credendi, De duabus animabus, Contra Fortunatum Manichaeum, Contra Adimantum, Contra epistulam fundamenti, Contra Faustum Manichaeum, Contra Felicem Manichaeum, De natura boni, Epistula Secundini, Contra Secundinum Manichaeum, (CSEL 25.1) (1891/92) 257–797. Also, for ease of access, PL 42.207–518. August. de baptismo contra Donatistas = M. Petschenig ed., Sancti Aureli Augustini Scripta contra donatistas, vol. 1 (CSEL 51) (Vienna 1908) 143–375. August. de civ. D. = E. Hoffmann ed., Augustinus. De Civitate Dei (CSEL 40.1 and 40.2) (Vienna 1899–1900). August. de moribus ecclesiae catholicae et de moribus Manichaeorum = PL 32.1309–78. August. de moribus Manichaeorum = J.B. Bauer ed., Augustinus, De moribus ecclesiae catholicae et de moribus Manichaeorum (CSEL 90) (Vienna 1992). August. de Trinitate = W.J. Mountain and F. Glorie edd., De Trinitate, 2 vols. (CCSL 50 and 50A) (Turnhout 1968). Also, for ease of access, PL 42.819–1098. August. En. in Ps. = E. Dekkers and J. Fraipoint edd., Sancti Aurelii Augustini. Enarrationes in Psalmos, 3 vols. (CCSL 38–40) (Turnholt 1956). August. Enchiridion de fide spe et caritate = E. Evans ed., Enchiridion (CCSL 46, part XIII) (Turnhout 1969). Also for ease of access PL 40.231–90. August. Ep. = J.H. Baxtor ed. and transl., St Augustine. Select Letters (London-Cambridge, Mass. 1953) (with Latin text). August. Retract. = P. Knöll ed., Augustinus. Retractationes (CSEL 36) (Vienna 1902). August. Serm. = PL 38–39. August. Serm. Nov. = F. Dolbeau ed., Augustin d’Hippone. Vingt-six sermons au peuple d’Afrique (2nd edn. Paris 2010).

567 Aur. Victor. Caes. = Liber de caesaribus (not Epitome de Caesaribus) in F. Pichlmayr ed., Aurelius Victor: Liber de caesaribus (Leipzig 1911), of which I saw only an online transcription so do not have page numbers: http:// www.forumromanum.org/literature/victor_caes.html (last accessed January 2015); H.W. Bird transl., Aurelius Victor: De Caesaribus (Liverpool 1994). Auson. Carm. = H.G. Evelyn White transl., Ausonius, 2 vols. (Loeb Classical Library) (London-New York 1919–21) (with Latin text). Auson. Ep. = H.G. Evelyn White transl., Ausonius, 2 vols. (Loeb Classical Library) (London 1919–21). Avitus of Vienne, In rogationibus homilia = PL 59.289–91. Baladhuri, Kitab Futuh al-Buldan = P.K. Hitti, The Origins of the Islamic State, vol. 1 (New York and London 1916). Basil Ep.= R.J. Deferrari transl., Saint Basil. The Letters, 4 vols. (Loeb Classical Library) (London and Cambridge, Mass. 1926–34) (with Greek text). Basil Hom. = PG 31.164–617. Basil hex. = PG 29.1–208. Basil Sermo Asceticus = PG 31.869–88. Bede de tempore ratione = PL 90.204–578. Bede Historia ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum = B. Colgrave and R. A. B. Mynors edd. Bede, Historia Ecclesiastica Gentis Anglorum (Oxford 1969). Not seen. Breviarium of Alaric = K. Zeumer ed., Leges Visigothorum (MGH LL nat. Germ. 1) (Hannover / Leipzig 1902) 33–456. C. Carth. IV (AD 419) = C. García Goldáraz ed., Los concilos de Cartago (Madrid 1960). For ease of access see also Mansi 3.874–93. C. Clermont (AD 535) = J. Gaudemet and B. Basdevant transl., Les canons des conciles mérovingiens (VIe–VIIe siècles), vol. 1 (Paris 1989) (Sources Chrétiennes 353) 210–25, reproducing Latin text of C. de Clercq ed., Concilia Galliae A. 511–A. 695 (CCSL 148a) (Turnhout 1963). C. Const. in Trullo (AD 692) = Mansi 11.921–1006. C. Ilib. (AD 305) = Mansi 2.1–19. C. Laod. = Mansi 2.563–74. C. Mâcon I (AD 581–83) = J. Gaudemet and B. Basdevant transl., Les canons des conciles mérovingiens (VIe–VIIe siècles), vol. 2 (Paris 1989) (Sources Chrétiennes 354) 428–43, reproducing Latin text of C. de Clercq ed., Concilia Galliae A. 511–A. 695 (CCSL 148a) (Turnhout 1963). C. Nic. II (AD 787) = Mansi 12.951–1154. C. Orleans I (AD 511) = J. Gaudemet and B. Basdevant transl., Les canons des conciles mérovingiens (VIe–VIIe siècles), vol. 1 (Paris 1989) (Sources Chrétiennes 353) 70–91, reproducing Latin text of C. de Clercq ed., Concilia Galliae A. 511–A. 695 (CCSL 148a) (Turnhout 1963). C. Orleans III (AD 538) = J. Gaudemet and B. Basdevant transl., Les canons des conciles mérovingiens (VIe–VIIe siècles), vol. 1 (Paris 1989) (Sources Chrétiennes 353) 230–63, reproducing

568 Latin text of C. de Clercq ed., Concilia Galliae A. 511–A. 695 (CCSL 148a) (Turnhout 1963). C. Paris III (AD 566–73) = J. Gaudemet and B. Basdevant transl., Les canons des conciles mérovingiens (VIe–VIIe siècles), vol. 2 (Paris 1989) (Sources Chrétiennes 354) 410–25, reproducing Latin text of C. de Clercq ed., Concilia Galliae A. 511–A. 695 (CCSL 148a) (Turnhout 1963). Caesarius Serm. = M.-J. Delage ed. and transl., Césaire d’Arles: sermons au peuple, 3 vols. (Sources Chrétiennes 175, 243, 333) (Paris 1971–96). Calendar of A.D. 354 (Calendar of Philocalus) = Th. Mommsen ed., Inscriptiones Latinae Antiquissimae (Berlin 1893) 254–339. Calendar of Polemius Silvus = Th. Mommsen ed., Inscriptiones Latinae Antiquissimae (Berlin 1863) 254–339; T. Mommsen ed., Chronica Minora (MGH AA 1) (Berlin 1892) 511–51 (with lists of places in Rome on pp. 545–46). Carmen contra Paganos = Th. Mommsen, “Carmen codicis Parisini 8084”, Hermes 4 (1870) 350–63. Cass. Dio = E. Cary and H.B. Foster transl., Dio’s Roman History (London and New York 1914–27) 9 vols. Cassiod. Var. = Å.J. Fridh ed., Magni Aurelii Cassiodori Variarum libri XII (Magni Aurelii Cassiodori Senatoris Opera 1) (CCSL 96) (Turnhout 1973); T. Hodgkin transl., The Letters of Cassiodorus (London 1886); S.J.B. Barnish transl., Cassiodorus: Variae (Translated Texts for Historians 12) (Liverpool 1992). Cassiod. Var. = Å.J. Fridh ed., Magni Aurelii Cassiodori Variarum libri XII (Magni Aurelii Cassiodori Senatoris Opera 1) (Corpus Christianorum Series Latina 96) (Turnhout 1973). Cedrenus = E. Bekker ed., Georgios Kedrenus, Compendium Historiarum, 2 vols. (Corpus Scriptorum Historiae Byzantinae) (Bonn 1838–39). Cer. = J.J. Reiske ed., Constantine VII Porphyrogenitus. De Ceremoniis Aulae Byzantinae, 2 vols. (Corpus Scriptorum Historiae Byzantinae) (Bonn 1829–30); French transl. by A. Vogt, Constantin VII Porphyrogénète, le Livre des Cérémonies, 4 vols. (Paris 1935–40); A. Moffatt and M. Tall transl., Constantine Porphyrogennetos, The Book of Cere­ monies with the Greek Edition of CSHB (1829), vol. 1 (Byzantina Australiensia 18) (Canberra 2012). Choricius Or. = R. Foerster and E. Richtsteig edd., Choricius Gazaeus (Leipzig 1929). English translations of some other these works in F.K. Litsas, Choricius of Gaza: an Approach to his Work. Introduction, Translation and Commentary (UMI Dissertation Services of a Ph.D. diss. University of Chicago 1980) (Ann Arbor, Michigan 1999). Choricius, Horologion = E. Amato ed. and transl., “Op. VIII Amato. Descrizione dell’orologio”, in Rose di Gaza. Gli scritti retorico-sofistici e le Epistole di Procopio di Gaza, ed. E. Amato (Hellenica 35) (Alexandria 2010) 204–13. Chron. Pasch. = L. Dindorf ed., Chronicon Paschale, 2 vols. (Corpus Scriptorum Historiae Byzantinae 7–8) (Bonn

Bibliography 1832); Mi. Whitby and Ma. Whitby transl., Chronicon Paschale 284–628 AD (Translated Texts for Historians 7) (Liverpool 1989). Chronicle of A.D. 354 = T. Mommsen ed., Chronica Minora (MGH AA 9) (Berlin 1892) 143–48. Chronicle of Zuqnin = A. Harrak transl., The Chronicle of Zuqnîn, parts III and IV (A.D. 488–775) (Toronto 1999). N.B. this is the text of Dionysius of Tel Mahre under a different name, and in part three largely resumes the second part of the ecclesiastical history of John of Ephesus (AD 491–571). This section is also translated by: W. Witakowski transl., Pseudo-Dionysius of Tel-Mahre: Chronicle, Part III (Liverpool 1997). I did not consult any original Syriac editions for this. Claud. Carm. Min.= M. Platnauer ed. and transl., Claudian, vol. 1 (London and Cambridge, Mass. 1922) 175–291 (with Latin text). Claud. de bello Getico = M. Platnauer ed. and transl., Claudian, vol. 2 (London and Cambridge, Mass. 1922) 124–73 (with Latin text). Claud. de cos. Stil. = M. Platnauer ed. and transl. Claudian, vol. 1 (London and Cambridge, Mass. 1922) 364–93 and vol. 2 (London and Cambridge, Mass. 1922) 33–73 (with Latin text). Claud. de III cos. Hon. = M. Platnauer ed. and transl., Claudian, vol. 1 (London and Cambridge, Mass. 1922) 268–85 (with Latin text). Claud. de IV cos. Hon. = M. Platnauer ed. and transl., Claudian, vol. 1 (London and Cambridge, Mass. 1922) 286–335 (with Latin text). Claud. de VI cos. Hon. = M. Platnauer ed. and transl., Claudian, vol. 1 (London and Cambridge, Mass. 1922) 71–123 (with Latin text). Claud. Epith. = M. Platnauer ed. and transl., Claudian, vol. 1 (London and Cambridge, Mass. 1922) 240–67 (with Latin text). Claud. Fescennine Verses = M. Platnauer ed. and transl., Claudian, vol. 1 (London and Cambridge, Mass. 1922) 230– 39 (with Latin text). Claud. in Eutrop. = M. Platnauer ed. and transl., Claudian, vol. 1 (London and Cambridge, Mass. 1922) 138–229 (with Latin text). Claud. in Ruf. = M. Platnauer ed. and transl., Claudian, vol. 1 (London and Cambridge, Mass. 1922) 24–97 (with Latin text). Clem. paed. = PG 8.247–684. Cod. Iust. = P. Krüger ed., Corpus Iuris Civilis, vol. 2: Codex Iustinianus (Berlin 1887); E. Bloom transl., Annotated Justinian Code, 2nd edn. http://www.uwyo.edu/lawlib/ blume-justinian/ajc-edition-2/books/ (last accessed March 2014). Cod. Theod. = T. Mommsen and P. Meyer et al. edd., Theodosiani Libri XVI cum Constitutionibus Sirmondianis, 2 vols. (Berlin

Bibliography 1905); C. Pharr transl., The Theodosian Code and Novels: and the Sirmondian Constitutions (Princeton 1952). Coll. Avell. = O. Guenther ed., Epistulae Imperatorum Pontificum Aliorum Inde ab a. CCCLXVII usque DLIII datae Avellana Quae Dicitur Collectio, 2 vols. (CSEL 35. 1 and 2) (Vienna 1895). Colloquium Monacensia = G. Goetz ed., Corpus Glossariorum Latinorum, vol. 3 (Teubner 1892) 644–54. There is now E. Dickey ed., Colloquia Monacensia-Einsidlensia, Leidense-Stephani, and Stephani from the Hermeneumata Pseudodositheana, vol. 1 (Cambridge 2012) (not seen, I used Goetz). Colloquium Montepessulanum = G. Goetz ed., Corpus Glossariorum Latinorum, vol. 3 (Teubner 1892) 654–59. Colloquium Leidense = G. Goetz, in Corpus Glossariorum Latinorum 3 (Teubner 1892) 637–38. There is now E. Dickey ed., Colloquia Monacensia-Einsidlensia, Leidense-Stephani, and Stephani from the Hermeneumata Pseudodositheana, vol. 1 (Cambridge 2012) (not used by me). Constantine of Rhodes = L. James ed., Constantine of Rhodes, On Constantinople and the Church of the Holy Apostles, with a new edition of the Greek text by Ioannes Vassis (Farnham-Burlington, Vermont 2012). An older edition is E. Legrand, “Description des œuvres d’art et de l’église des Saints Apôtres de Constantinople. Poème en vers iambiques par Costantin le Rhodien”, REG 9 (1896) 32–65. Constitutiones Apostolorum = M. Metzger ed. and transl., Les Constitutions Apostoliques, 3 vols. (SC 320, 329, 336) (Paris 1985, 1986, 1987). Corippus Laud. Just. = A. Cameron ed. and transl., Flavius Cresconius Corippus: in laudem Iustini Augusti Minoris (in Praise of Justin II) (London 1976). Cyprian Ep. = W. Hartel ed., S. Thasci Caecili Cypriani Opera Omnia, vol. 1 (CSEL 3) (Vienna 1868) 465–842. I am uncertain this is the correct edition. Cyr. Hierosol. Catech. = PG 33.331–1128. Cyr. Scyth. V. Sabae = E. Schwartz ed., Kyrillos von Skythopolis (Texte und Untersuchungen 49.2) (Leipzig, 1939); R.M. Price transl., Lives of the Monks of Palestine (Kalamazoo, Michigan 1991) 93–219. Damascius fr.104—Suda (Damascius) ‘Upsilon’ 166 = Suda On Line: Byzantine Lexicography: www.stoa.org/sol/ (last accessed March 2011). Didascalia apostolorum = M. Dunlop Gibson ed. and transl., The Didascalia Apostolorum in English (London 1903). Dig. = T. Mommsen ed., Justinian Digesta seu Pandectae (Berlin 1870); A. Watson ed., The Digest of Justinian, 2 vols [revised English-language edn.] (Philadelphia 1998). I have not used the translation corrections of http:// iuscivile.com/materials/digest/received.shtml (last accessed March 2014). Diocesan Synod of Auxerre = J. Gaudemet and B. Basdevant transl., Les canons des conciles mérovingiens (VIe–VIIe

569 siècles). Introduction, traduction et notes, vol. 2 (Paris 1989) (Sources Chrétiennes no 354) 486–505, reproducing Latin text of C. de Clercq ed., Concilia Galliae A. 511–A. 695 (CCSL 148a) (Turnhout 1963). Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. = E. Cary transl., Dionysius of Halicarnassus: Roman Antiquities, 7 vols. (Cambridge, Mass. 1937–50). Dionysius of Tel Mahre = J.B. Chabot ed., Incerti auctoris Chronicon anonymum Pseudo-Dionysianum vulgo dictum, vol. 1 (CSCO 91) syr. 43 (Leuven 1927). Older edition and French translation: J.B. Chabot transl., Chronique de Denys de Tell-Mahré, IVe partie (Paris 1895); English translations: A. Harrak, The Chronicle of Zuqnîn, parts III and IV (A.D. 488–775) (Toronto 1999); W. Witakowski transl., Pseudo-Dionysius of Tel-Mahre: Chronicle, Part III (Liverpool 1997). Dionysius reconstituted = A. Palmer transl., The Seventh Century in the West-Syrian Chronicles (Translated Texts for Historians 15) (Liverpool 1993) 85–221. Read by me in translation only. Doctrina Iacobi = V. Déroche, ‘Doctrina Jacobi Nuper Baptizati. Édition et traduction’, TM 11 (1991) 47–229 with text at 70–219. Dracontius Carmina minora = F. Von Duhn ed., Dracontii Carmina Minora plurima inedita ex codice Neapolitano (Leipzig 1873). Ed. Diocl. = https://droitromain.univ-grenoble-alpes.fr/Cons titutiones/maximum_CIL.html (accessed Nov 2020) Eddius Stephanus Vita Wilfredi = Passiones vitaeque sanctorum aevi Merovingici (MGH SRM6) (Hanover 1913) 163–263. Egeria = E. Franceschini and R. Weber, “Itinerarium Egeriae”, in Itineraria et alia geographica (CCSL 175) (Turnhout and Paris 1965) 27–103 (I did not get access to this). See the Latin text and translation at http://users.ox.ac.uk/~mikef/ durham/egeria.html. Ennodius = F. Vogel ed., Ennodius. Opera (MGH AA 7) (Berlin 1885). Ephr. Hymn on Nicomedia = C. Renoux ed., Éphrem de Nisibe. Mêmrê sur Nicomédie (PO 37.2–3 172–73) (Turnhout 1975). Epiph. adv. Haer (including de Fide) = K. Holl ed., Epiphanius III. Panarion (GCS 37) (Leipzig 1933); F. Williams transl., The Panarion of Epiphanius of Salamis, Books II and III. De Fide. (2nd edn Nag Hammadi and Manichaean Studies 79) (Leiden 2013). Epithalamium Laurentii = J. Koch ed., Claudii Claudiani. Carmina (Leipzig 1893) 302–305 / J.B. Hall, Claudii Claudiani. Carmina (Leipzig 1985). Eucherius Epitome de locis aliquibus sanctis = T. Tobler and A. Molinier edd., Itinera Hierosolymitana et Descriptiones Terrae Sanctae: Bellis Sacris Anteriora [Et] Latina Lingua Exarata Sumptibus Societatis illustrandis Orientis latini monumentis, vol. 1 (Geneva 1879) 49–54.

570 Eunap. Hist. = C. Müller ed., Fragmenta Historicorum Graecorum, vol. 4 (Paris 1885) 7–56; R.C. Blockley ed. and transl., The Fragmentary Classicising Historians of the Later Roman Empire: Eunapius, Olympiodorus, Priscus, and Malchus, vol. 2 (Arca 10) (Liverpool 1983). Eunap. VS = W.C. Wright transl., Philostratus, Lives of the Sophists. Eunapius, Lives of the Philosophers and Sophists (London-Cambridge, Mass. 1921) (with Greek text). Euseb. Hist. eccl. = E. Schwartz ed., Eusebius Kirchengeschichte (GCS 9.1) (Leipzig 1902). Euseb. Mart. Pal.= Greek version published as L.G. Bardy ed. and transl., Eusèbe de Césarée. Histoire ecclésiastique, vol. 3 (Sources Chrétiennes 55) (Paris 1958). Syriac version, often more detailed, (British Library Add. Ms. 12150) is available as W. Cureton ed. and transl., Eusebius of Caesarea: The History of the Martyrs in Palestine (London and Paris 1861). It has been suggested that the Syriac translator, whose work survives in an Edessene manuscript of AD 441, took liberties with the long version of Eusebius’ text, extending certain stories and adding speeches and miracles: see E. Carotenuto, “Eusebius of Caesarea on Romanus of Antioch: a note on Eusebius, De Martyribus Palestinae (Syriac translation) 7, 7–9, 9”, Classics Journal 98 (2003) 389–96. Euseb. Vit. Const. = F. Winkelmann ed., Eusebius Werke. Über das Leben des Kaisers Konstantin, vol. 1.1 (GCS 7) (2nd edn. Berlin 1991); A. Cameron and S.G. Hall transl., Life of Constantine (Oxford 1999). Eutr. = F. Ruehl ed., Eutropius Breviarium (Leipzig 1919). Evagr. Hist. eccl. = J. Bidez and L. Parmentier edd., The Ecclesiastical History of Evagrius with the Scholia (Amsterdam 1964) (1st edn. London 1898); Mi. Whitby ed. and transl., The Ecclesiastical History of Evagrius Scholasticus (Translated Texts for Historians 33) (Liverpool 2000). Expositio totius mundi = J. Rougé ed. and transl., Expositio totius mundi et gentium. Introduction, texte critique, traduction, notes et commentaire (Paris 1966). Fasti Vindobonenses Posteriores = T. Mommsen ed., Chron. Min. (MGH AA 9) (Berlin 1892) 263–264, 274–336. FIR 2 = S. Riccobono, J. Baviera, C. Ferrini, J. Furlani, and V. Arangio-Ruiz edd., Fontes iuris Romani anteiustiniani, vol. 2: Auctores. Libri Syro-Romani (Florence 1968). Gallic Chronicle of 452 = T. Mommsen ed., Chronica minora saec. IV. V. VI. VII. (I) (MGH AA 9) (Berlin 1892) 615–66. Georgius Monachus, Chronicon = C. de Boor ed., Georgius Monachus, Chronicon, 2 vols. (2nd edn. Leipzig 1904) Gesta papae Martini = PL 129.585–604. Greg. Dial. = PL 77.149–430. Greg. Ep. = D. Norberg ed., Gregorius Magnus. Registrum epistolarum (CCSL 140–140a), 2 vols. (Turnhout 1982); also P. Ewald and L.M. Hartmann edd., Gregorii I Papae

Bibliography Registrum Epistolarum, 2 vols. (MGH Epistolarum vols 1–2) (Berlin 1891) 17–21. Greg. Regula Pastoralis = B. Judic, F. Rommel, and C. Morel edd., Grégoire le Grand. Règie pastorale 2 vols. (Sources chrétiennes, 381, 382) (Paris 1992) (not seen). Greg. Naz. Or. 4–5 = J. Bernardi ed. and transl., Grégoire de Nazianze. Discours 4–5 contre Julien (Sources Chrétiennes 309) (Paris 1983). Greg. Naz. Or. 6–12 = M.-A. Calvet-Sebasti ed. and transl., Grégoire de Nazianze. Discours 6–12 (Sources chretiennes 405) (Paris 1995). Greg. Naz. Or. 21 = J. Mossay and. G. Lafontaine ed. and transl., Grégoire de Nazianze. Discours 20–23 (Sources Chrétiennes 270) (Paris 1980). Greg. Naz. Or. 33 = P. Gallay and C. Moreschini ed. and transl., Grégoire de Nazianze. Discours 32–37 (Sources Chrétiennes 318) (Paris 1985). Greg. Naz. Or. 38 = C. Moreschini and P. Gallay ed. and transl., Grégoire de Nazianze. Discours 38–41 (Sources Chrétiennes 358) (Paris 1990). Greg. Naz. Or. 39 = P. Gallay ed. and transl., Grégoire de Nazianze. Discours 38–41 (Sources Chrétiennes 358) (Paris 1990). Greg. Naz. Or. 42–43 = J. Bernardi ed. and transl., Grégoire de Nazianze. Discours 42–43 (Sources Chrétiennes 384) (Paris 1992). Greg. Naz. Or. 43 = J. Bernardi ed. and transl., Grégoire de Nazianze. Discours 42–43 (Sources Chrétiennes 384) (Paris 1992). Greg. Naz. Poemata de se ipso 1305–1410 = PG 37.1120–25. Greg. Nyss. De deit. Fil. = PG 46.553–76. Greg. Nyss. de Pauperibus Amandis = PG 46.454–90. Greg. Nyss. Ep. 1 = A.M. Silvas transl., Gregory of Nyssa. The Letters (Leiden 2007) 105–15. Greg. Nyss. Melet. = A. Spira ed. and transl., Gregorii Nysseni: Sermones, vol. 9.1 (Leiden 1967) 441–57. Greg. Nyss. V. Macr. = P. Maraval ed. and transl., Grégoire de Nysse. Vie de Sainte Macrine (Sources Chrétiennes 178) (Paris 1971). Greg. Thaum. ep. can. = PG 10.1020–48. Gregory of Tours Glor. Mart. = B. Krusch ed., Gregorii episcopi Turonensis. Miracula et opera minora (MGH SRM 1.2) (Hanover 1885) 34–111; R. Van Dam transl., Glory of the Martyrs (Translated Texts for Historians 3) (Liverpool 1988). Gregory of Tours V. Patrum = B. Krusch ed., Gregorii episcopi Turonensis. Miracula et opera minora (MGH SRM 1.2) (Hanover 1885) 211–94; E. James transl., Life of the Fathers (Translated Texts for Historians 1) (Liverpool 1985). Gregory of Tours Glor. Conf. = B. Krusch ed., Gregorii episcopi Turonensis. Miracula et opera minora (MGH SRM 1.2) (Hanover 1885) 294–370; R. Van Dam transl., Glory of the

Bibliography Confessors (Translated Texts for Historians 4) (Liverpool 1988). Gregory of Tours, Hist = B. Krusch and W. Levison edd., Gregorii episcopi Turonensis. Libri Historiarum X (MGH SRM 1.1) revised edn. (Hanover 1951). Herodian = C.R. Whittaker transl., Herodian: History of the Empire, 2 vols. (Cambridge, Mass. and London 1969 and 1970) (with Latin text). Hesychius (of Miltetus) = T. Preger ed., Scriptores Originum Constantinopolitarum, vol. 1 (Leipzig 1901–1907) 1–18. Him. Or. = A. Colonna ed., Himerii. Declamationes et orationes cum deperditarum fragmentis (Rome 1951); R.J. Penella transl., Man and the Word. The Orations of Himerius (Berkeley 2007). Hist. Aceph. = A. Martin and M. Albert edd., Histoire « acéphale » et Index syriaque des lettres festales d’Athanase d’Alexandrie (Sources Chrétiennes 317) (Paris 1985). Hor. Sat. = H.R. Fairclough transl., Horace: Satires, Epistles, and Ars Poetica (Harvard-Cambridge 1929) (with Latin text). Imp. Exp. = J.J. Reiske ed., Constantini VII Porphyrogenitus, de ceremoniis aulae Byzantinae, 2 vols. (Corpus Scriptorum Historiae Byzantinae 12–13) (Bonn 1829–30) = A. Moffatt and M. Tall transl., Constantine Porphyrogennetos. The Book of Ceremonies in Two Volumes, with the Greek edition of CSHB (1829), vol. 1 (Canberra 2012, repr. of Bonn 1829) 444–509 (“Appendix to book 1”); J.F. Haldon, Constantine Porphyrogenitus: Three Treatises on Imperial Military Expeditions (Vienna 1990). Innocent Ep. = PL 20.463–612. Critical edition of letter 25, by R. Cabié ed. and transl., La Lettre du pape Innocent Ier à Décentius de Gubbio (19 mars 416) (Leuven 1973) (the latter not seen by me). Isid. Etym. = W.M. Lindsay ed., Isidori Hispalensis Episcopi Etymologiarum sive originum libri XX, 2 vols. (Oxford 1911). Isid. de ecclesiasticis officiis = C.M. Lawson ed., Sancti Isidori Episcopi Hispalensis, De ecclesiasticis officiis (CCSL 113) (Turnhout 1989); T.L. Knoebel transl., Isidore of Seville: De Ecclesiasticis Officiis (Mahwah, New Jersey 2008). It. Ant. = O. Cuntz and G. Wirth edd., Itineraria Romana, vol. 1: Itineraria Antonini Augusti et Burdigalense (Stutgart 1990) 1–85. Itinerarium Antonini Placentini = P. Geyer ed., Itinerarium Antonini Placentini, in Itineraria et alia geographica (CCSL 175) (Turnhout 1965) 129–53. Itinerarium Burdigalense = T. Tobler and A. Molinier edd., Itinera Hierosolymitana et Descriptiones Terrae Sanctae: Bellis Sacris Anteriora [et] Latina Lingua Exarata Sumptibus Societatis illustrandis Orientis latini monumentis, vol. 1 (Geneva 1879) 1–25. Iust. Nov = R. Schoell and W. Kroll edd., Justinian. Novellae (Berlin 1895); E. Bloom transl., Justinian’s Novels 2nd edn. http://www.uwyo.edu/lawlib/blume-justinian/ ajc-edition-2/books/ (last accessed March 2014); http://

571 www.uwyo.edu/lawlib/blume-justinian/ajc-edition-2/ novels/index.html. J. Ant. frag. = (John of Antioch) C. Muller ed., Fragmenta historicorum graecorum, vol. 4 (Paris 1883) 535–622, vol. 5 (Paris 1873) 27–38. Jer. Apologia contra Rufinum = P. Lardet ed., Saint Jerome, Apologie contre Rufin (Sources Chrétiennes 303) (Paris 1983). Jer. Chron. = R. Pearse, ed. and transl., Jerome, Chronicle: http:// www.tertullian.org/fathers/jerome_chronicle_00_eintro .htm (last accessed November 2013). Jer. Dialogus contra Luciferianos = PL 23.153–82. Jer. Ep. = I. Hilberg ed., Hieronymus, Epistulae (CSEL 54–55) 2 vols (Vienna and Leipzig 1912, which I had access to), (see Vienna 1996 for the revised edn.). For a translation of selected letters see F.A. Wright transl., Select Letters of Jerome (Cambridge, Mass. 1933). Letters 1, 22, 38, 54, 60, 66, and 77 are in Hilberg and Wright. Letters 23, 39, 52, and 108 are in Hilberg only. Jer. Commentarium in Isiam Prophetam = PL 24.17–708. Jer. Translatio Latina Regulae Sancti Pachomii = A. Boon ed., Pachomiana Latina (Leuven 1932). Also in PL 23.59–86D. Joh Chrys. Anna = PG 54.631–676. Joh Chrys. Hom. in 1 Thessal. = PG 62.391–468. Joh Chrys. Hom. in Heb. = PG 63.8–238. Joh. Chrys. Huit catéchèses baptismales inédites = A. Wenger ed. and transl., Jean Chrysostome: Huit catéchèses baptismales inédites (Sources chrétiennes 50bis) (Paris 1970). Joh. Chrys. ad Theodorum Lapsum (Treatise) = J. Dumortier ed. and transl., Jean Chrysostome à Théodore (Source Chrétiennes 117) (Paris 1966). Joh. Chrys. de Sac. = A.-M. Malingrey ed. and transl., Jean Chrysostome. Sur le sacerdoce (Sources Chrétiennes 272) (Paris 1980). Joh. Chrys. Ep. = PG 52.529–742. Letters quoted here are written to Olympias and have been edited and translated by A.-M. Malingrey, Jean Chrysostome. Lettres à Olympias, Vie d’Olympias (Sources Chrétiennes 13 bis) (2nd edn. Paris 1968). Joh. Chrys. Hom. ad pop. Ant. = PG 49.15–222 (on the statues). Antiochene. Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Cor. = PG 61.9–382. (21 identified as Antiochene by Mayer (2005) 511–12). Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 2 Cor. = PG 61.383–609. Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Tim. = PG 62.501–600. Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 2 Thessal. = PG 62.467–500. Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 2 Tim. = PG 62.600–62. Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Act. = PG 60.13–384. Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Col. = PG 62.299–392 (2, 3, 7 identified as Antiochene by Mayer (2005) 511–12). Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Jo. = PG 59.23–482. Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Matth. = PG 57–58. Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Phil. = PG 62.177–298.

572 Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Rom. = PG 60.391–682. Joh. Chrys. Vita Olympiadis = A.-M. Malingrey ed. and transl., Jean Chrysostome. Lettres à Olympias, Vie d’Olympias (Sources Chrètiennes 13 bis) (2nd edn. Paris 1968). Joh. Chrys. theatr. = PG 56.263–70 (identified as Constantinop­ olitan, dating to AD 399 by Mayer (2005) 95). Joh. Chrys. de S. Hieromartyre Phoca 1 = PG 50.699–700 (identified as Constantinopolitan by Mayer (2005) 511–12). Joh. Chrys. Hom. ad pop. Ant. = PG 49.15–222 (2, 3, 5, 6, 14, 15, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21 identified as Antiochene by Mayer (2005) 511–12). Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Thessal. = PG 62.391–468. Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 1 Tim. = PG 62.501–600. Joh. Chrys. Hom. in 2 Cor. = PG 61.381–610. Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Eph. = PG 62.9–176. Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Eutropium = PG 52.391–96. Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Heb. = PG 63.8–238. Joh. Chrys. Hom. in Tit. = PG 62.663–700. Joh. Chrys. In Illud, Propter fornicationes uxorem = PG 51.207–18. Joh. Chrys. In Illud: si esurient inimicus (Homily to those who had not attended the assembly) = PG 51.171–86. Joh. Chrys. Jud. = PG 48.843–942 (1, 5 and 6 identified as Antiochene by Mayer (2005) 511–12). Joh. Chrys. kal. = PG 48.951–62 (identified as Antiochene by Mayer (2005) 511–12). Joh. Chrys. Laz. = PG 48.963–1044. Joh. Chrys. pan. Bab. = M.A. Schatkin et al. edd., Jean Chrysostome. Discours sur Babylas: suivi de Homélie sur Babylas (Sources Chrétiennes 362) (Paris 1990) 13–278 (homily is identified as Antiochene by Mayer (2005) 511–12). Joh. Chrys. vid. 1–2 = PG 48.599–622. Joh. Eph. Hist. eccl. = E.W. Brooks ed. and transl., John of Ephesus, Ioannis Ephesini historia ecclesiasticae pars tertia (CSCO ser. 3, 105/64, 106/55) (Paris 1935–36). Joh. Moschus = John Moschus. Pratum Spirituale, in PG 87.2851–3116; M.-J. Rouët de Journel transl., Jean Moschus, Le pré spirituel (Sources Chrétiennes 12) (Paris 1946). See also T. Nissen, “Unbekannte Erzählungen aus dem Pratum Spirituale”, Byzantinische Zeitschrift 38 (1938) 354–76. John Cassian Conferences = E. Pichery ed. and transl., Jean Cassien, Conférences, 3 vols. (Sources Chrétiennes 42, 54, 64) (Paris 1955–59). John of Biclar Chronicle = J.R. Ferry, John of Biclar and his Chronicle (M.A. dissertation Rice University 1990) (Ann Arbor, Michigan 1990) 66–105 for an English translation, and slightly revised textual edition based on T. Mommsen ed. Chronica Minora MGH AA vol. 2 (Berlin 1894) 11.211–20. John of Nikiu Chronicle = R.H. Charles transl., The Chronicle of John, Bishop of Nikiu (Oxford 1916). I have not read the Ethiopian original, translated from an Arabic translation of the lost Greek (!).

Bibliography John the Deacon Life of Gregory the Great = PL 75.60–242. Jordanes Get. = Th. Mommsen ed., Iordanis Romana et Gethica (MGH AA 5.1) (Berlin 1882) 53–138; C.C. Mierow transl., The Gothic History of Jordanes (Princeton 1915). Joseph BJ = H. St. J. Thackeray transl., Josephus: The Jewish War, 3 vols. (Cambridge Mass., 1926–1928) (with Greek text). Josh. Styl. = W. Wright ed. and transl., The Chronicle of Joshua the Stylite (Cambridge 1882); A. Luther transl., Die syrische Chronik des Josua Stylites (Berlin 1997) (with Syriac text). Julian Ep. = W.C. Wright transl., The Works of the Emperor Julian, vol. 3 (London-New York 1923) (with Greek text). Julian Mis. = W.C. Wright transl., The Works of the Emperor Julian, vol. 2 (London-New York 1913) 421–512 (with Greek text) 417–511. Julian Or. = W.C. Wright transl., The Works of the Emperor Julian, vols. 1–2 (London-New York 1913) (with Greek text). Julian, The Caesars = W.C. Wright transl., The Works of the Emperor Julian, vol. 2 (London-New York 1913) 421–512 (with Greek text) 344–45. Julian of Ascalon Treatise = C. Saliou transl., Le traité d’urbanisme de Julien d’Ascalon (VIe siècle). Droit et architecture en Palestine au VIe siècle (Paris 1996). Juv. = G.G. Ramsay transl. Juvenal and Persius (London and New York 1918) 1–307 (with Latin text). Lactant. De mortibus persecutorum = J. Moreau ed., Lactance, De la mort des persécuteurs, 2 vols. (Sources Chrétiennes 39) (Paris 1954). Lactant. Div. inst. = P. Monat ed. and transl., Institutions divines. Livre II; introduction, texte critique, traduction (Sources Chrétiennes 337) (Paris 1987). Laterculus Veronensis = O. Seeck ed., Notitia Dignitatum Accedunt Notitia Urbis Constantinopolitanae et Latercula Provinciarum (Berlin 1876; reprint Frankfurt 1962) 247–53. See also T.D. Barnes, The New Empire of Diocletian and Constantine (Cambridge, Mass. 1982) 201–208 (not seen). Liber Syro-Romanus = A. Vööbus ed. and transl., The Syro-Roman Lawbook: The Syriac Text of the Recently Discovered Manuscripts accompanied by a Facsimile Edition and Furnished with an Introduction and Translation, I (Papers of the Estonian Theological Society in Exile 36) (Stockholm 1982). Leo Grammaticus Chronographia = E. Bekker ed. and transl., Leonis Grammatici Chronographia (Bonn 1842). Leo Serm. = A. Chavasse ed., Sancti Leonis Magni Romani Pontificis: Tractatus Septem et Nonaginta (CCSL 138A) (Turnhout 1973). Leont. N. v. Jo. Eleem = E. Dawes and N. H. Baynes edd. and transl., Three Byzantine Saints: Contemporary Biographies (London 1948). Leont. N. v. Sym. = D. Krueger transl., Symeon the Holy Fool: Leontius’s Life and the Late Antique City (Berkeley 1996);

Bibliography Greek edition by L. Rydén in A.J. Festugière ed., Léontios de Néapolis: Vie de Syméon le Fou et Vie de Jean de Chypre (Paris 1974) 55–104. Lex Municipalis = M.H. Crawford ed., Roman Statutes, vol. 1 (London 1996) no. 24. Lib. Decl. = R. Foerster ed., Libanii Opera, vols. 5–7 (Leipzig 1909–1913). Lib. Ep. = R. Foerster ed., Libanii Opera, vols. 10–11. (Leipzig 1903–27); A.F. Norman transl., Libanius. Autobiography and Selected Letters, 2 vols. (London 1987–92); S. Bradbury, Selected Letters of Libanius from the Age of Constantius and Julian (Translated Texts for Historians 41) (Liverpool 2004). Lib. Or. = R. Foerster ed., Libanii Opera, 12 vols. (Leipzig 1903– 27); A.F. Norman transl. Libanius. Selected Works, 2 vols. (London 1969–77); A.F. Norman transl., Libanius. Auto­ biography and Selected Letters (London 1992); A.F. Norman transl., Antioch as a Centre of Hellenic Culture as Observed by Libanius (Translated Texts for Historians 34) (Liverpool 2000); J. Martin ed. and transl., Libanios, Discours II–X (Paris 1988). See also M.J.B. Wright, “Appendix: Libanios, Oration IX: On the Kalends”, Archiv für Religionsgeschichte 13.1 (2012) 205–12. For a full concordance list see https://www .academia.edu/3612083/Libanius_Discourses_translations (last accessed March 2014). Lib. Pont. = L. Duchesne ed., Le Liber Pontificalis. Texte, introduction et commentaire, vol. 1 (Paris 1886); T. Mommsen ed., Liber Pontificalis (MGH Gestorum Pontificum Romanorum) vol. 1 (Berlin 1898); R. Davis transl., The Book of Pontiffs (Liber Pontificalis): The Ancient Biographies of the First Ninety Roman Bishops to AD 715 (Liverpool, 1st edn. 1989, 2nd edn. 2000). Lib. Progymnasmata = R. Foerster ed., Libanii Opera, 12 vols. (Leipzig 1903–27); C.A. Gibson transl., Libanius’s Progymnasmata. Model Exercises in Greek Prose Composition and Rhetoric (Atlanta 2008); J. Martin ed. and. transl., Libanios, Discours. Tome II, discours II–X (Paris 1988). Life of Andrew the Fool = L. Ryden ed. and transl., The Life of Andrew the Fool. Text, Translation and Notes (Uppsala 1995). Life of Daniel the Stylite = H. Delehaye ed., Les Saints Stylites (Subsidia Hagiographica 14) (Paris 1923); E. Dawes transl. and N.H. Baynes comm., Three Byzantine Saints: Contemporary Biographies of St. Daniel the Stylite, St. Theodore of Sykeon, and St. John the Almsgiver (London 1948). Life of John of Lycopolis = E. Amélineau ed. and transl., “Monuments pour servir à l’histoire de l’Egypte chrétienne aux IVe, Ve, VIe et VIIe siècles: VII Vie de Jean de Lycopole”, Mémoires publiés par les membres de la mission archéologique française au Caire 4.2 (1895) 650–65; P. Devos, “Feuillets coptes nouveaux et anciens concernant S. Jean de Siout”, AnalBoll 88 (1970) 153–87.

573 Life of Nicholas of Sion = I. and N.P. Sevcenko edd. and transl., The Life of Saint Nicholas of Sion (Brookline, Mass. 1984). Life of Rabbula = R.R. Phenix Jr. and C.B. Horn, The Rabbula Corpus Comprising the Life of Rabbula, his Correspondence, a Homily Delivered in Constantinople, Canons, and Hymns with Texts in Syriac and Latin, English Translations, Notes, and Introduction (Atlanta 2017). Life of St Anastasius the Persian = B. Flusin transl., Saint Anastase le Perse et l’histoire de la Palestine au début du VIIe siècle, 2 vols. (Paris 1992). Life of St Luke the Stylite = F. Vanderstuyf ed. and transl., La Vie de Saint Luc le Stylite (879–979) (PO 11.2 145–299) (Paris 1915). Life of St Pelagia the Harlot = for all versions see P. Petitmengin et al. Pélagie la Pénitente. Métamorphoses d’une légende. I. Les textes et leur histoire (Paris 1981) (ancient texts and French translation). Livy = A.C. Schlesinger transl., Livy with an English Translation in Fourteen Volumes, vol. 13 (London-Cambridge 1951) (with Latin text). Livy Epit. = E.T. Sage transl., Livy, History of Rome, vol. 11, books 38–39 (Loeb Classical Library) (Cambridge, Mass-London 1958) (with Latin text). Lorsch Codex = K.A.F. Pertz ed., Chronicon Laureshamense (MGH Scriptorum 21) (Hannover 1869) 334–453. A more recent edition is K. Glöckner ed., Codex Laureshamensis, 3 vols. (Darmstadt 1929–36, repr. 1975) (not seen). Lucian de Dea Syriae = J.L. Lightfoot ed. and transl., Lucian on the Syrian Goddess: Edited with Introduction, Translation, and Commentary (Oxford 2003). Lydus Mag. = M. Dubuisson and J. Schamp transl., Des magistratures de l’état romain. Jean le Lydien, 2 vols. (Paris 2006) (with Greek text). Also R. Wuensch ed., John Lydus de Magistratibus Populi Romani (Leipzig 1903). Lydus Mens. = R. Wuensch ed., Iohannis Laurentii Lydi Liber de Mensibus (Leipzig 1898). M. Aur. Correspondence with Fronto = C.R. Haines ed. and transl., The Correspondence of Marcus Cornelius Fronto with Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, Lucius Verus, Antoninus Pius, and Various Friends, 2 vols. (Loeb Classical Library) (London 1919–20) (with Latin text). Malalas = J. Thurn ed., Ioannis Malalae Chronographia (Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae 35) (Berlin-New York 2000); E. Jeffreys, M. Jeffreys and R. Scott transl., The Chronicle of John Malalas (Melbourne 1986), which has important critical notes. Manuel Chrysoloras Ep.= PG 156.23–60. Marc. Nov. = (Novels of Marcian) = T. Mommsen and P. Meyer edd., Theodosiani Libri XVI cum Constitutionibus Sirmondianis, vol. 2: Leges Novellae ad Theodosianum Pertinentes (Berlin 1905) 179–96; C. Pharr transl., The Theodosian Code and Novels: and the Sirmondian Constitutions (Princeton 1952) 562–67.

574 Marcell. com. = T. Mommsen ed., Marcellinus Comes, Chronicon (MGH AA 9) (Berlin 1894) 39–101; B. Croke transl., Marcellinus Comes. The Chronicle of Marcellinus, a Translation and Commentary (Byzantina Australiensia 7) (Sydney 1995). Marcobius Saturnalia = L. von Jan ed., Macrobii opera, vol. 2: Saturnalia (Quedlinburg-Leipzig 1852). Marinus Vita Procli = F. Boissonade ed., Marini Vita Procli (Leipzig 1814). Marius of Aventicum, Chronicle AD 568 = T. Mommsen ed., Chron. Min. (MGH AA 9) (Berlin 1892) 225–39. Mart. = D.R. Shackleton Bailey transl., Martial Epigrams, vol. 2: Books 6–10 (Loeb Classical Library) (Cambridge, Mass.-London 1993). Martyrdom of Gurya and Shmona = E. von Dobschütz ed., Die Akten der edessenischen Bekenner Gurjas, Samonas und Abibos (Text und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der altchristlichen Literatur 3.7.2) (Leipzig 1911); F.C. Burkitt ed. and transl., Euphemia and the Goth, with the Acts of Martyrdom of the Confessors of Edessa (London-Oxford 1913) 91–110, with Syriac text at the end of the book. See discussion of dating problems in this work and in F. Millar, The Roman Near East, 31 B.C.–A.D. 337 (Cambridge, Mass.-London 1993) 486–87. Martyrdom of Habbib the Deacon = E. von Dobschütz ed., Die Akten der edessenischen Bekenner Gurjas, Samonas und Abibos (Text und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der altchristlichen Literatur 3.7.2) (Leipzig 1911); E. Doran transl., “The martyrdom of Habib the Deacon”, in Religions of Late Antiquity in Practice, ed. R. Valantasis (Princeton 2000) 413–23; F.C. Burkitt ed. and transl., Euphemia and the Goth, with the Acts of Martyrdom of the Confessors of Edessa (London-Oxford 1913) 112–28, with Syriac text at the end of the book. See discussion of dating problems in this work and in F. Millar, The Roman Near East, 31 B.C.– A.D. 337 (Cambridge, Mass.-London 1993) 486–87. Maximus of Turin Serm. = A. Mutzenbecher ed., Maximus Taurinensis. Sermonum collectio antiqua, nonnullis sermonibus extravagantibus adiectis (CCSL 23) (Turnhout 1962); B. Ramsey transl. and annotated, The Sermons of Maximus of Turin (Ancient Christian Writers 50) (Mahwah, New Jersey 1989). Men. Rhet. = D.A. Russell and N.G. Wilson edd., Menander Rhetor. Text, Translation, and Commentary (Oxford 1981). Miracles of St. Anastasius the Persian = B. Flusin, ed. and transl., Saint Anastase le Perse et l’histoire de la Palestine au début du VIIe siècle (Paris 1992). Miracles of St Artemios = V.S. Crisafulli, J.W. Nesbitt, and J.F. Haldon edd. and transl., The Miracles of St. Artemios: A Collection of Miracle Stories by an Anonymous Author of Seventh-Century Byzantium (Leiden-New York 1997). Miracles of St Thecla = G. Dagron ed. and transl., Vie et miracles de sainte Thècle (Subsidia hagiographica 62) (Brussels 1978).

Bibliography Mon. Anc. = F.W. Shipley transl., Velleius Paterculus and Res Gestae Divi Augusti (London and Cambridge, Mass. 1924). Necrologium imperatorum = R. Cessi ed., Origo Civitatem Italiae seu Venetiarum (Chronicon Altinate et Chronicon Gradense) (Fonti per la storia d’Italia 73) (Rome 1933 104–111); A. Moffatt and M. Tall transl., Constantine Porphyrogennetos. The Book of Ceremonies in 2 volumes, 2 vols. (Byzantina Australiensia 18) (Canberra 2012) 809– 19: Addendum 2: Brief mention of the emperors who have ruled (with Greek text). Nic. Dam. = (Nicolaus Damascenus) C. Müller ed., Fragmenta Historicorum Graecorum, vol. 3 (Paris 1849) 342–465. Nicetas Chionates Thesaurus Orthodoxae Fidei = PG 139.1087–1444, PG 140.9–292 (Latin text only for most of work). Nicetas Choniates = E. Bekker ed., Nicetae Choniatae Historia (Corpus Scriptorum Historiae Byzantinae) (Bonn 1835). Also J. van Dieten ed., Nicetae Choniatae Historia (CFHB 11) (Berlin 1975). Nicetas of Remesiana, Libellus ad virginem lapsam (Ps. Ambrose de lapsu virginis consecratae) = E. Cazzaniga, Incerti auctoris “De lapsu Suzannae” (Turin 1948). Nikephorus Kallistos, Hist. eccl. = PG 145.549–1332. Nikephorus Patriarch of Constantinople, Short History = C. Mango ed. and transl., Nikephorus Patriarch of Constan­ tinople Short History. Text, Translation, and Commentary (Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae 13) (Washington 1990). Nikephorus Patriarch of Constantinople, Istoria syntomos = C. de Boor. ed., Nicephori archiepiscopi Constantinopolitam opuscula historica (Leipzig 1880) 3–77. NMarc (Novels of Marcian) = T. Mommsen and P. Meyer edd., Theodosiani Libri XVI cum Constitutionibus Sirmondianis, vol. 2: Leges Novellae ad Theodosianum Pertinentes (Berlin 1905) 179–96; C. Pharr ed. and transl., The Theodosian Code and Novels: and the Sirmondian Constitutions (Princeton 1952). Not. Const. = O. Seeck ed., Notitia Dignitatum Accedunt Notitia Urbis Constantinopolitanae et Latercula Provinciarum (Berlin 1876; reprint Frankfurt 1962). Not. Dign. = O. Seeck ed., Notitia Dignitatum Accedunt Notitia Urbis Constantinopolitanae et Latercula Provinciarum (Berlin 1876, repr. Frankfurt 1962). Illustrations of Bodleian manuscript visible on http://treasures.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/ Notitia-Dignitatum (last accessed June 2014). Illustrations of the Bavarian manuscript visible on http://daten.digitale -sammlungen.de/~db/bsb00005863/images/index.html. Not. Rom. = “Notitia Regionum Urbis XIV”, in Libellus de regionibus urbis Romae, ed. E. Nordh (Acta Instituti Romani regni Sueciae 3) (Lund 1949) 73–106. The comparative text of the Notitia and the Curiosum are available on http:// penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/L/Gazetteer/Places/ Europe/Italy/Lazio/Roma/Rome/_Texts/Regionaries/ text*.html.

Bibliography Nov. = R. Schoell and W. Kroll edd., Justinian Novellae (Berlin 1895). Olymp. Frag. = R.C. Blockley ed. and transl., The Fragmentary Classicising Historians of the Later Roman Empire: Eunapius, Olympiodorus, Priscus, and Malchus, vol. 2 (Arca 10) (Liverpool 1983); C. Müller ed., Fragmenta Historicorum Graecorum, vol. 4 (Paris 1849) 57–68. Olympiodorus = R.C. Blockley ed. and transl., The Fragmentary Classicising Historians of the Later Roman Empire, vol. 2 (ARCA 10) (Liverpool 1983). Ordo Romanus I = M. Andrieu ed., Les ordines Romani du haut moyen-âge, II: Les textes (Spicilegium Sacrum Lovaniense 23) (Louvain 1948). Ov. Ex Pont. = A.L. Wheeler transl., Ovid. Tristia. Ex Ponto (London-Cambridge. Mass. 1924) 264–489 (with Latin text). Ov. Fasti = J.G. Frazer transl., Ovid’s Fasti (London and Cambridge, Mass. 1931) (with Latin text). Pacianus of Barcelona Parenesis (sive exhortatorius libellous, ad poenitentiam) = PL 13.1081–90; C. Épitalon and M. Lestienne edd. and transl., Pacien de Barcelone. Écrits, Introduction, Texte critique, Commentaire et Index (Sources Chrétiennes 410) (Paris 1995). Pall. Hist. Laus. = C. Mohrmann, G.J.M. Bartelink and M. Barchiesi edd. and Italian transl., Palladio. La Storia Lausiaca (Vite dei Santi 2) (Milan 1974). Pan. Lat. = R.A.B. Mynors ed., XII Panegyrici Latini (Oxford 1964); C.E.V. Nixon and B.S. Rodgers, In Praise of Later Roman Emperors: The Panegyrici Latini. Introduction, Translation, and Historical Commentary (Transformation of the Classical Heritage vol. 21) (Berkeley 1994). Parastaseis = Av. Cameron and J. Herrin edd., transl. and comm., Constantinople in the Early Eighth Century: the Parastaseis Syntomoi Chronikai (Columbia Studies in the Classical Tradition 10) (Leiden 1984). Passio Eupli = H. Musurillo ed., The Acts of the Christian Martyrs; Introduction, Texts, and Translations (Oxford 1972) 310–19. Patria = T. Preger ed., Scriptores originum Constantinop­ olitanarum, vol. 2 (Leipzig 1907) 135–283. Paul the Deacon Hist. = L.K. Bethmann and G. Waitz edd., Monumenta Germaniae Historica. Scriptores rerum langobardicarum et Italicarum saeculis VI–IX (Hanover 1878) 12–187. Paul. Carm. = W. von Hartel ed., Sancti Pontii Paulini Nolani Carmina (CSEL 30) (Vienna 1894). Paul. Ep. = (Paulinus of Nola) G. de Hartel ed., Sancti Pontii Meropii Paulini Nolani Opera, vol. 1 (CSEL 29) (2nd edn. Vienna 1999). Paul. HL = (Paul the Deacon Historia Longobardorum) Monumenta Germaniae historica: Scriptores rerum langobardicarum et Italicarum saeculis VI–IX, ed. G. Waitz (Berlin 1878) 183–224.

575 Paul. HR = Paul the Deacon Historia Romanorum (MGH SRG 49), ed. J.G. Droysen (Berlin 1897) 45–187. Paul. V. Amb. (Paulinus of Milan) = A.A.R. Bastiaensen, Vita di Ambrogio (with translation of L. Canali), Vite dei santi, vol. 3 (Milan 1975). English translation: J.A. Lacy in Early Christian Biographies, ed. J.R. Deferrari (Washington D.C. 1952) 25–66. Paus. = W.H.S. Jones and H.A. Ormerod edd. and transl., Pausanias’s Description of Greece, with English Translation, 5 vols. (London 1931–35) (with Greek text). Peter Chrysologus Or. = A. Olivar ed., Sancti Petri Chrysologi collectio sermonum, 3 vols. (CCSL 24) (Turnhoult 1975–82); W.B. Palardy transl., St. Peter Chrysologus: Selected Sermons, vol. 3 (Fathers of the Church 110) (Washington D.C. 2005). PHI = Packard Humanities Institute Link to website: http:// epigraphy.packhum.org/inscriptions/ (last accessed December 2013). Philo Leg = F.H. Colson, transl. Philo X: The Embassy to Gaius (Cambridge Mass. 1962) (with Greek text). Philostorgius Hist. eccl. = J. Bidez ed., Philostorgius Kirchen­ geschichte (Berlin 1981); P.R. Amidon transl., Philostorgius Church History (Atlanta 2007). Philostratos Life of Apollonius of Tyana = F.C. Conybeare ed. and transl., Philostratus. The Life of Apollonius of Tyana, vol. 2 (London-New York 1912). Photius = R. Henry, Photius: bibliothèque, 9 vols. (Paris 1959–91). Itinerarium Antonini Placentini (Piacenza Pilgrim) = P. Geyer ed., Itinera hierosolymitana saeculi IIII–VIII (CSEL 39) (Vienna 1898) 157–91. Plin. Nat. = K.F.T. Mayhoff ed., C. Plini Secundi Naturalis historiae libri XXXVII (Leipzig 1906–09). Plut. Aem. = B. Perrin transl., Parallel Lives: Dion and Brutus Timoleon and Aemilius Paulus vol. 6 (London 1918). Plut. Mor. Quaest. Graec. = F.C. Babbitt transl., Plutarch’s Moralia in Fifteen Volumes, vol. 4 (Cambridge-London 1962) 176–249 (with Greek text). Plut. Pomp. = B. Perin transl., Plutarch Lives, vol. 5: Agesilaus and Pompey. Pelopidas and Marcellus (London 1915) (with Greek text). Plut. Caes. = B. Perin transl., Plutarch Lives, vol. 7: Demosthenes and Cicero. Alexander and Caesar (London 1919) (with Greek text). Plut. Vit. Cat. Mai. = B. Perrin transl., Plutarch Lives, vol. 2: Themistocles and Camillus. Aristides and Cato Major. Cimon and Lucullus (Loeb Classical Library) (Cambridge, Mass. and London 1919) (with Greek text). Priscian Pan. = (Panegric on Anastasius) A. Chauvot ed. and transl., Procope de Gaza, Priscien de Césarée, Panégyriques de l’empereur Anastase 1er (Bonn 1986) is the best edition. I was only able to use Priscian, De laude Anastasii imperatoris, ed. E. Baehrens (Poetae latini minores 5) (Leipzig 1883). Priscus = R.C. Blockley ed. and transl., The Fragmentary Classicising Historians of the Later Roman Empire:

576 Eunapius, Olympiodorus, Priscus, and Malchus, vol. 2 (ARCA 10) (Liverpool 1983). Proc. Gaz. Pan. (Or. 2) = E. Amato and G. Ventrella edd. and transl., “Panegirico per l’imperatore Anastasio”, in Rose di Gaza. Gli scritti retorico-sofistici e le Epistole di Procopio di Gaza, ed. E. Amato (Hellenica 35) (Alexandria 2010) 240–87. Procop. Aed. = H. Dewing ed. and transl., Procopius. Buildings (Loeb Classical Library) (London-Cambridge, Mass. 1954). Procop. Anecdota = H. Dewing ed. and transl., Procopius. The Anecdota or Secret History (Loeb Classical Library) (London-Cambridge, Mass. 1960). Procop. Goth. = H. Dewing ed. and transl., Procopius. History of the Wars, Books V–VIII (Loeb Classical Library) (London-Cambridge, Mass. 1916). Procop. Pers. = H. Dewing ed. and transl., Procopius. History of the Wars, Books I–II (London-New York 1914). Procop. Vand. = H. Dewing ed. and transl., Procopius. History of the Wars, Books III and IV (Loeb Classical Library) (London-Cambridge, Mass. 1924). Procopius Gazaeus = E. Amato ed., Opuscula rhetorica et oratoria (Berlin-New York 2009); E. Amato ed., Rose di Gaza: gli scritti retorico-sofistici e le Epistole di Procopio di Gaza (Hellenica 35) (Alexandria 2010). Prosper of Aquitaine, Epitoma Chronicon = Th. Mommsen ed., Chronica Minora Saec. IV–VII, vol. 1 (MGH AA 9) (Berlin 1892) 341–500. Q. Fabius Pictor = H. Beck and U. Walter edd. and transl., Die Frühen Römischen Historiker, Band I von Fabius Pictor bis Cn. Gellius (Texte zur Forschung Band 76) (Darmstadt 2001). Quodvultdeus, Gloria Sanctorum = R. Braun ed., Opera Quodvultdeo Carthaginiensi Episcopio Tributa (CSEL 60) (Turnholt 1976). Rufinus = PL 21; P.R. Amidon transl., The Church History of Rufinus of Aquileia Books 10 and 11 (Oxford 1997). Salv. Gub. Dei = I. Lagarrigue ed. and transl., Salvien de Marseille, Œuvres, 2 vols. (Sources Chrétiennes 176 and 220) (Paris 1971–75). See also the more accessible edition of C. Halm ed., Salviani presbyteri Massiliensis libri qui supersunt (MGH AA 1.1) (Berlin, 1877). An accessible English translation is E.M. Sanford transl., Salvian, On the Government of God (New York 1930). Scol. Juv ad Sat. = P. Wessner ed., Scholia in Iuvenalem Vetustiora (Leipzig 1931). Sev. Ant. Hom. = Severus of Antioch, Homiliae = PO 4.1; 8.2; 12.1; 16.5; 20.2; 22.2; 23.1; 25.1, 4; 26.3; 29.1; 35.3; 36.1, 3–4; 37.1; 38.2. Sever. creat. = Severian Gabalensis Orationes in Mundi Creationem: PG 56.429–500. Severian of Gabala de lotion pedum = (Severianus Ga balensis Homilia de Lotione Pedum) A. Wenger, “Une homélie inédite de Sévérien de Gabala sur le lavement des pieds”, REByz 25 (1967) 219–34.

Bibliography SHA = D. Magie ed. and transl., The Scriptores Historiae Augustae, 3 vols. (Cambridge, Mass.-London 1931–32). See also SHA = E. Hohl ed., Scriptores Historiae Augustae, 2 vols. (Leipzig 1927). Sid. Apoll. Ep. = W.B. Anderson ed. and transl., Sidonius. Poems and Letters (London-Cambridge, Mass. 1936–65) 1–327. Sid. Apoll. Carm. = W.B. Anderson ed. and transl., Sidonius. Poems and Letters (London-Cambridge, Mass. 1936–65) 330–483. Sirm. = T. Mommsen and P. Meyer et al. edd., Theodosiani Libri XVI cum Constitutionibus Sirmondianis, 2 vols. (Berlin 1905). Sirmondian Constitutions, in C. Pharr ed. and transl., The Theodosian Code and Novels: and the Sirmondian Constitutions (Princeton 1952). Socrates Hist. eccl. = G.C. Hansen ed., Socrates Scholasticus Historia Ecclesiastica (GCS new series 1) (Berlin 1995). Sophron. v. m. Cyr. et Jo. = PG 87.3677–90. Sozom. Hist. eccl. = J. Bidez and G.C. Hansen edd., Sozomenus. Kirchengeschichte (GCS 50) (Berlin 1960). Strabo Geographica = H.L. Jones ed., The Geography of Strabo (Cambridge and London 1917–32) 8 vols. (with Greek text). Suda = Suda On Line: Byzantine Lexicography: www.stoa.org/ sol/. Suet. Iul. = J.C. Rolfe transl., Suetonius, vol. 1 (CambridgeLondon 1920) 3–119 (with Latin text). Sulp. Sev. Chron = Sulplicii Severi Opera (CSEL 1) (Vienna 1866) 1–105. Sulp. Sev. Dial. = J. Fontaine and N. Dupré edd. and transl., Gallus. Dialogues sur les ‘vertus’ de Saint Martin, 2 vols. (Paris 2006). Sulp. Sev. V. Mart. = J. Fontaine ed. and transl., Sulpice Sévère. Vie de saint Martin, vol. 1 (Sources Chrétiennes 133) (Paris 1967). Symmachus Relat. = O. Seeck ed., Q. Aurelii Symmachi quae supersunt (MGH AA 6.1) (Berlin 1883) 279–317. See also J.P. Callu ed. and transl., Symmaque: Lettres, 4 vols. (Paris 1972–2002) (not seen). Symmachus Ep. = O. Seeck ed., Q. Aurelii Symmachi quae supersunt (MGH AA 6.1) (Berlin 1883) 10276. See also J.P. Callu ed. and transl., Symmaque: Lettres, 4 vols. (Paris 1972–2002) (not seen). Syn. Catasasis = PG 66.1565–78; N. Terzaghi ed. and transl., Synesii Cyrenensis opuscula, vol. 2.1 (Rome 1944) 283–293 (not seen). Syn. Catastasis = J. Lamoureux and N. Aujoulat edd. and transl., Synésios de Cyrène, Tome 6.3 (Paris 2008). Also in PG 56.1565–74. Syn. Ep. = A. Garzya ed. and transl. (Italian), Opere di Sinesio di Cirene. Epistole Operetti Inni (Turin 1989); A. Fitzgerald transl., The Letters of Synesius (New York 1926). The letter numbers do not correspond between Garzya and Fitzgerald. Fitzgerald follows the numbers of PG 56.1321–1560. Synod of Auxerre (AD 561–605) = J. Gaudemet and B. Basdevant transl., Les canons des conciles mérovingiens (VIe–VIIe siècles) vol. 2 (Paris 1989) (Sources Chrétiennes 354) 486–505,

Bibliography reproducing Latin text of C. de Clercq ed., Concilia Galliae A. 511–A. 695 (CCSL 148a) (Turnhout 1963). Synod of Girona (AD 517) = Synod of Girona (AD 517) Canon 3, in Mansi 8.549. Syriac Life of Simeon Stylites the Elder = F. Lent transl., “The life of Simeon Stylites: A Translation of the Syriac text in Bedjan’s Acta Martyrum et Sanctorum, vol. IV”, JAOS 35 (1915) 111–98. I have not located or consulted an original edition of this. Tables of Heraclea (‘Lex Iulia Municipalis’) = S. Riccobono et al. edd., Fontes iuris romani antejustiniani, vol. 1 (Florence 1941) 140 (not seen); M.H. Crawford et al., Roman Statutes 1 (London 1996) 355–91, n. 24. Tac. Ann. = J. Jackson transl., Tacitus IV–V: Tacitus Annals (Cambridge. Mass. 1937). Ter. Eun. = J. Barsby ed., Terence, Vol.1. The Woman of Andros. The Self-Tormentor. The Eunuch (Cambridge, Mass. 2002) 217–443. Tertulian, Apologeticus = J.E.B. Mayor and A. Souter edd. and transl., Q. Septimi Florentis Tertvlliani Apologeticvs: the Text of Oehler (Cambridge 1917). The Arabic Gospel of the Infancy of the Saviour = I have not been able to obtain an edition of this, and have used the English translation at http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/0806. htm (last accessed May 2010). Them. Or. = W. Dindorf ed., Themistii Orationes, ex codice Mediolanensi emendatae (Leipzig 1832); P. Heather and D. Moncur transl., Politics, Philosophy, and Empire in the Fourth Century: Selected Orations of Themistius (Translated Texts for Historians 36) (Liverpool 2001). Theodore Lector Hist. eccl. = PG 86a.165–228. Theod. Hist. eccl. = L. Parmentier with F. Scheidweiler edd., Theodoret. Kirchengeschichte (GCS 84) (2nd edn. Berlin 1954); P. Canivet, J. Bouffartigue et al. edd. and transl., Théodoret de Cyr. Histoire ecclésiastique (Sources Chrétiennes 501, 530) (Paris 2006–2009). Theod. Hist. Rel. = P. Canivet and A. Leroy-Molinghen edd. and transl., Theodoret de Cyr, Histoire des moines de Syrie (Sources Chrétiennes 234 and 257) (Paris 1977–79). Theodore of Antioch Encomium on Theodore the General = E.A. Wallis Budge ed., Miscellaneous Coptic Texts in the Dialect of Upper Egypt (London 1915) 1–48 and 577–625. A late text, 8th to 10th c. Theodosius de Terra Sancta = J.H. Bernard transl., Theodosius (A.D. 530) (London 1893). Theoph. Sim. = C. de Boor and P. Wirth edd., Theophylactus Simocattes. Historiae (Leipzig 1972); Mi. and Ma. Whitby transl., The History of Theophylact Simocatta: an English Translation with Introduction (Oxford 1986). Theophanes = C. de Boor ed., Theophanes Confessor. Chronographia (Leipzig 1883–85); C. Mango and R. Scott comm. and transl., The Chronicle of Theophanes Confessor (Oxford 1997).

577 Theophanes Continuatus = I. Bekker ed., Theophanes Continuatus (Bonn 1838). V. Caes. = G. Morin ed., Sancti Caesarii episcopi Arelatensis Opera omnia nunc primum in unum collecta, vol. 2 (Maredsous 1942) (not seen); W.E. Klingshirn transl., Caesarius of Arles: Life, Testament, Letters (Liverpool 1984). V. Dan. = H. Delahaye ed., Les saints stylites (Brussels 1923) 1–147 (Life of Daniel the Stylite); E. Dawes and N.H. Baynes comm. and transl., Three Byzantine Saints: Contemporary Biographies of St. Daniel the Stylite, St. Theodore of Sykeon and St. John the Almsgiver (London 1948). V. Platonis = PG 115.403–28. V. Porph. = H. Grégoire and M.-A. Kugener edd., Marc le diacre, vie de Porphyre (Paris 1930). V. SS. Patr. Emerit. = A. Maya Sánchez ed., Vitas sanctorum patrum Emeretensium (CCSL 116) (Turnhout 1992); A.T. Fear transl., Lives of the Visigothic Fathers (Translated Texts for Historians 26) (Liverpool 1997). V. Sym. Jun. = P. van den Ven ed. and transl., La vie ancienne de s. Syméon le Jeune, 2 vols. (Brussels 1962–70). V. Theod. Syc. = A.J. Festugière ed. and transl., Vie de Théodore de Sykéon, 2 vols. (Brussels 1970); E. Dawes and N.H. Baynes comm. and transl., Three Byzantine Saints: Contemporary Biographies of St. Daniel the Stylite, St. Theodore of Sykeon and St. John the Almsgiver (London 1948). Venantius Fortunatus Carm. = F. Leo ed., Venantius Fortunatus Opera Poetica (MGH AA 4.1) (Berlin 1881). Venantius Fortunatus Life of Radegund = F. Leo ed., Venanti Honori Clementiani Fortunati presbyteri Italici Opera poetica (MGH AA 4.1) (Berlin 1881) 38–49. Verg. Aen. = H. Rushton Fairclough transl., Virgil, 2 vols. (London-Cambridge, Mass. 1938). Verrius Flaccus = A.E.M. Egger ed., M. Verrii Flacci. Sexti Pompei Festi Fragmentum (Paris 1838). Victor Tonnenensis, Chronica = T. Mommsen ed., Chronica Minora vol. 2 (MGH AA 11.163–224) (Berlin 1894). Victor Vit. = M. Petschenig ed., Victor Vitensis. Historia Persecutionis Africanae Provinciae (CSEL 7) (Vienna 1881); J. Moorhead ed. and transl., Victor of Vita: History of the Vandal Persecution (Translated Texts for Historians 10) (Liverpool 1992). Victricius of Rouen, De Laude Sanctorum = I. Mulders and R. Demeulenaere edd., Victricii Rotomagensis: De Laude Sanctorum (CCSL 64) (Turnhout 1985) 69–93. Vitr. De arch. = F. Granger transl., Vitruvius: On Architecture, vol. 1 (London 1931) (with Latin text). Zach. Myt. Chron. = E.W. Brooks ed., Historia ecclesiastica Zachariae rhetori vulgo adscripta; Accedit fragmentum Historiae ecclesiasticae Dionysii Telmahrensis (CSCO 83– 84/38–39) 2 vols. (Paris 1919–24); F. Hamilton and E. Brooks transl., The Syriac Chronicle Known as that of Zachariah of Mitylene (London 1899). Now recently edited and

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Index 1.1

Abstract Concepts, Urbanism, and Behaviours 

abandonment 7, 11, 16, 19, 73, 144, 148, 263, 287, 308, 331, 363–65, 405 of fora / agorai 7th c. 363–65 of fora / agorai 4th–5th c. 334–37 of fora / agorai 6th c. 354–57 passive 351 aesthetics xxiv, 61, 104, 108, 132, 426, 476 of colonnaded streets 47 of rebuilt and repaired porticoes 282 of reused paving 283 of urban planning 30 apotropaism 73, 85, 254, 444 behaviour 4, 6–7, 60, 149, 151, 153, 157, 166, 189–91, 195, 202, 211–12, 214, 224, 226–27, 229, 232, 234–35, 258–259, 264, 313, 318, 361, 366–70, 372, 379, 411, 419, 422, 426, 434, 438, 441, 443, 457, 461, 467, 469, 475, 476–77 of emperor, imperial 205 processional 215, 232–33 religious XXVi, 225 benefactions  of city councillors 453 of emperors 122 of individuals 419, 440 benefactors  local statues to 360 private 236, 264 senators and equestrians, statues to 292 bourgades 1, 136, 149, 244, 423, 442 irregular, unplanned  30, 148 non-urban 136 semi-urban 28 capitals of government  provincial 1, 6, 10, 56, 115, 123, 141, 170, 174, 182, 196, 234, 265, 280, 286, 290, 293, 314–16, 338, 344, 357–58, 371–72, 381, 415, 421, 430, 435, 468 imperial 1, 45, 73–74, 83, 85–86, 93, 110, 131–32, 138, 261, 280, 316, 419–21, 429–34, 460 processions in 151, 154–55, 158, 167, 170, 176, 182, 229, 232 castra 1, 10 around episcopal churches  450 ceremonies (static) 150 political 237 public 309, 434 chanting 152, 155, 197, 225 charity 192, 242n, 366, 368, 447, 465n cities  fortress type 1, 28, 151, 342, 423, 426 see also capitals of government  see also civitas see also frontier cities  civic building  recovery in civic building 39, 114, 333, 338, 341, 356, 409, 419, 421, 479 rupture in  419 see evergetism  civitas 136, 145, 445 class  lower classes 237, 240 middle classes 162, 410, 469

cleaning  of agorai 337 of sewers 118 commercialisation 338, 415 cooking 15n, 165, 391, 404–405, 407, 419, 446 competition 92, 224–25, 324, 441, 472 for honour 237 in public ritual 456 in religious life 257 in social life 319, 441 continuity 1, 6, 9–10, 16, 19, 56–57, 134, 138, 141, 146–48, 175–75, 179–81, 185, 191, 198, 229, 320, 396, 407, 413, 415, 417–28, 435, 458, 472–74 see rupture  daily round 8, 10, 192, 238, 262, 360, 410 decay 4, 21, 59, 144, 263, 276, 334, 336–38, 354–55, 357, 365, 426, 462 economic xxvii of civic centres in the West 462 of civil basilicas 287 of council chambers 310 of fora / agorai 308 of public squares 263 of stoas in the East 276 patterns of  332 urban 18, 287, 308, 374, 415 see degradation  decorum 428, 441 in church 410 in funerals 167 defecation  361, 441 degradation 12, 145, 334–35, 337–38, 354–55, 363, 415 of agorai 356 of classical city 251 of classical squares in Near East 364 of fora 287, 331 of fora / agorai 333 of porticoes 276 see decay  see spoliation  demolition 265, 276, 287, 330, 333, 338, 354, 363, 456 selective 334 systematic 334 dining 192, 214, 239–40, 246, 261–62, 314, 372, 414, 438, 441 downgrading 114, 138–39, 254, 337 of street surfaces 57–59 encroachment  as a modification of urban order 18, 145 controlled  335–6, 338 of porticoes 375, 446 of streets 18–21, 141–45, 446, 337n uncontrolled  335, 338, 354 of fora / agorai 335–36 unstructured  see uncontrolled encroachment evergetism, civic 12, 237, 360, 440 see benefactions and benefactors  frontier 1, 9, 23, 149, 151, 155, 185, 308, 338–39, 342, 357, 423, 431, 467 cities 428, 430 regions 10, 340 funerals 153, 154, 166–67, 182, 196–201, 221, 223, 229, 231, 261, 368–69, 448 

610 for free 196, 446, 448, 465 identity  civic 236, 255, 445 cultural 445 formation of 228 religious 254, 256 Christian 458 Pagan 212 urban 13 interactions xxv, 228, 252, 259 invasion of space  by building 21, 142, 145, 335 domestic 336 industrial 335 see encroachment  see privatisation  koine 9, 428–30, 446 cultural 265, 433 of Late Antiquity 9 urban 8, 418, 428, 431, 433 landscapes, urban 214, 230, 288, 395, 462 liberalitas 168, 170 negative architectural modifications  334, 354 see degradation  see decay occupation 4, 7, 13, 131, 141, 144, 263, 288, 308, 335–37, 339, 341–42, 351, 354–56, 357, 364–65, 376, 381, 386, 394, 400, 413, 415, 435, 451, 462 continuity of 10, 354–56 deposits 405 domestic 323, 330, 402 of traditional civic squares 353 patronage 143, 237–38, 262, 427, 436, 440–41, 450, 466, 470 elite 460 links, relationships, ties 243, 262, 372, 386, 410, 422, 443 local 372 of emperors, imperial 126, 267, 431, 466 patterns of 426 private 1, 143 public 440, 459 pedestrianisation 53, 142, 249, 261, 427, 441 planning, orthogonal  21, 34 see streets, grids, under building types and functions pomoerium 163, 186 pride  in monumental streets 35 urban, civic 4, 68 privatisation 16, 131, 148, 374 ordered 18 processional culture  214, 227, 231–33, 427–28, 434 property boundaries  13, 16, 30, 143, 147–48, 436 imperial 394 owners 12, 118, 143, 262, 397 private 15 public 374 rights 12, 143, 439–40, 446 punishment, see under processions entry on political, as punishment recovery see civic building  redisplay 289, 296, 425, 432 mythological statuary 294, 461 rent collection 15, 258 reservations  places in agorai 413

Index seats in bouleterion-odeon 361, 436, 452, 361 see topos inscriptions under site features revenues  civic 1, 122, 264, 338, 436, 447 of local government 1 taxation 1 rubbish collection 112, 119, 466 rupture  in architecture 424 in culture 425, 476 in aesthetics 476 salutatio (morning greeting ritual)  192 daily rhythm of 332 self-representation  of emperors 80 of patrons 152 sex 19, 186, 203–204, 242, 257, 367n homosexuality 101, 169n sleeping 414, 461, 239n, 240 in basternae 247 in fora / agora 243, 320, 361n in shops  243, 393, 398n, 406, 437 in church  367, 414, 462 in porticoes  243, 437 socialising 241, 441, 447 in street 241 sparsio (consular gifts distribution) 168–70, 174 spoliation 77, 104, 287, 289, 299, 320, 330, 337–38, 363 incidence of 420 of inscriptions 295, 299 of veneers 334, 335, 354 stripping  of people  57–58, 104, 139, 175, 186, 335, 338, 353, 415 subdivision 144, 148, 220, 400, 409, 422 of porticoes 279 ordered 374 planned 354 taxation 413, 440, 443, see also revenues temporality  of fora / agorai 332 of liturgy 366 of market buildings 414–15 of processions 229 of shops 414–15 of street activities 261 toleration 458, 472 of inscribed signs 242 of older statues 351 of statues 293 of religious differences 92, 207, 435, 457, 474 traffic management  one way 58, 252, 254, 261, 430, 441 right-side 252, 254 wheeled traffic 19, 53, 73, 249 wheeled transport 12–13, 145, 249 2.1

Building Types and Functions 

agorai see fora / agorai  antiphoroi  as round plazas 267, 341 see also round plazas aqueducts 108, 110, 112, 115, 258 supplies 105, 107

Index arches  cross-hall 70 honorific 77, 279, 423, 426 triumphal 67, 73, 83, 88, 92, 178, 428, 431, 445 wall see wall arches armatures (principal avenues)  21 bakeries 16, 137, 394, 404 basilicae, civil 316, 323, 381, 409, 419, 421, 424–25, 430, 442 change of function 287, 424 conversion into churches 287, 332, 359, 455 new 284–85 repairs, 4th–5th c. 285–86 repairs, 5th–6th c. 346, 358–59 basilicas, specific   floscellaria (sale of flowers) 382 vascolaria / argentaria (sale of bronze and silver objects)  382 vestiaria, Cuicul 381, 420, 430  Rome 383 vestilia, Rome 382 bouleuteria 264, 309–16, 319, 322–30, 349–50, 358, 361, 363, 369–71, 377, 418, 421, 452, 455 castellum aquae 104, 108 churches, in fora / agorai new, 4th–5th c. 332 new, 6th c. 356–57, 362–63 behaviour in church 366–71 circus  26, 58, 69, 73, 171–75, 256, 321–22, 452 factions 173, 187, 437, 450, 452 games 262 columns, honorific  80, 88–93, 132–33, 271, 317, 346, 420–21, 428–31, 433, 466 in fora / agorai 88, 271, 289, 349 in streets 85–86 curiae (city council chambers) 310, 312, 420 new and repairs, 4th–5th c. 309–10 domus 105, 124, 126–27, 142–43, 145, 153, 244, 248, 422–23 drains 12, 111–15 brick 116 ceramic tube 116 for surfaces 114, 432 free-running 337 recessed vertical 113 entertainment buildings  10, 12, 209, 213, 228, 231, 237, 437, 449, 458, 461 fora / agorai  altars 329, 331 as places for judicial punishment 317, 359 as setting for social display 319 function of shops on 323–24 new, 4th–5th c. 265–67 repairs, 4th–5th c. 273–74 repairs, 6th c.  343–45 resurfacing, plazas 277, 345 arches   new & repairs, 4th–5th c. 277  new & repairs, 6th c. 345–46 porticoes new & repairs, 4th–5th c. 275–76 new and repairs, 6th c. 345 see tetragonal agorai  forum holitorium (vegetable market) 386 vestiarium adiutricianum, Thamugadi 382 fountains  cistern fountains 107, 110, 112, 433 in churches 106 on streets 94, 106–10, 142, 236, 254

611 fullonicae 394, 396, 404 gradus (bread distribution points) 137 horologia 353, 425 horrea publica 375 hospitals 4, 447, 463, 467 see also xenodocheia / xenodochia insulae, merged 18, 141 junction-monuments  132 lacus (fountain) 107 latrines 104, 112–13, 321, 418, 421, 429, 464 law courts 6, 10, 150, 154, 182, 284, 314, 333, 352, 358, 371, 381, 396, 410, 421, 435, 439, 448, 461 imperial portraits in 360 lead pipes 346, 426 macella 316, 383, 385–86, 389, 393, 409, 413, 415, 417, 423, 427, 430–31, 446 for selling meat 383 new, rebuildings, repairs 382 market buildings 382, 385–86, 389, 417 new, repairs 385–86 see macella  mithraea 425 at Alexandria 185 at Hawarte 256 at Rome 185 nymphaea  in church atria 105–106 in fora / agorai new and repairs 94–95, 278–79, 346 in houses (private) 103 in streets, new and repairs 94–95 semi-circular 95 square 96 offices, imperial government in fora / agorai 315 palaces, imperial in fora / agorai 315 plateae   as streets 19, 167 platea maritima 321 porches pedimental  124, 132–33, 312, 425 porticoes of streets  36–51, esp. 43–51, 132–35 connected to arches 73–75, 76, 78, 82–83, 132 lighting 120–22 painting 61 porches 122–32, 133 repairs 38–39 statuary 122–24 with arcades  in agorai 348 in streets  46 with piers 348 praetoria 6, 10, 131, 165, 315, 382, 395 of governors 182, 358 on fora / agorai 314, 358 prandiara (cloth market)  382 public baths 112, 121, 142, 191–92, 261, 319 rectangular plazas  271, 273, 354, 382 new, 4th–5th c.  266 new, 6th c. 341 see fora / agorai  round plazas 47, 62–63, 65–66, 122, 133, 265, 267–68, 270, 271, 273, 397 differences with rectangular plazas 271 new 4th–5th c. 265 new, 6th c. 341 see fora / agorai 

612 sanctuaries 91, 152, 456 extra-mural 206, 215, 423, 455 Greek 432 pagan 455 schools 7, 225, 333, 394, 418, 441, 454, 473–74 Christian 463, 464 civic 226 in episcopal palace 369 in fora / agorai 324, 396 of law 362 secular 454, 464 secretaria 129, 315–16, 330 semitae 19 sewers 16, 19, 114, 111–19, 135, 140, 143, 149, 258, 337, 340, 386–87, 389–90, 408, 421, 423, 429, 430, 432, 435, 446–48, 464, 466–68, 473 shops  (ergasteria)  323, 391, 393–94, 443 (tabernae) 275, 285, 336, 391, 393, 395, 404, 410 as offices 394 as places for socialising 410 as pottery sellers 416 as schools 394 being permanent points of sale 391 definition 391 shops, cellular 391, 393, 396, 409, 413, 415–17 in existing streets 407–408 in fora / agorai 407–408 in former public buildings 408 in new colonnaded streets 408 one-room, two-room, multi-room 397 sidewalks 15, 36, 40–41, 110, 113, 124, 133, 135, 142, 240, 249, 427–428, 431, 436, 446, 448 in streets 51–54, 58, 140 sigma plazas 386–87, 389–90, 408, 421, 423, 429 new 388 souk 13–14, 374, 415, 423 statues and statue bases  see decoration streets  cleaning 7, 61, 119, 148, 428, 446, see also street cleaners under types of people fountains see fountains, on streets grids 11, 13, 16, 21–22, 24, 28, 34, 146, 148–49, 446–47 lamps 120–21, 427 persistence of 146–48 systems 17, 27, 112, 139, 235 rectilinear 20, 28, 34, 149 regular 145, 235 un-encroached 20 streets colonnaded  as political act 40 as setting for processions 230 built with arch 132, 135 definition 35 incremental 39–40 new 36–38 thin 43 swine markets 316, 383, 412 synagogues 256, 370, 444, 449, 459, 467, 474, 477 confiscation 451, 457 conversion 451, 457 Samaritan 451 taverns 16, 261, 394, 411, 414, 438

Index temples  cellae 325, 329–30 altars 328 conversion 330–31, 363 destruction 330, 363 new 324–25 repairs / rededications 325–27, 362 rupture in new building 423 tetragonal agorai 264, 273–74, 353, 372, 382–84, 393, 397, 409 tetrapyla 67–71 decoration 72 function 73–74 cross-hall 31, 72–74 thermopolion / thermopolium  243, 378, 380, 403, 404–405 tinctoria (dye shops) 406 wall arches 74, 76–78, 80, 132, 433, 446 xenodocheia / xenodochia 124, 448 see also hospitals 2.2 Building Elements and Decoration    altars 208, 288, 329, 369 in fora / agorai 329, 331 in temples 328 taurobolic 207 architraves  stone 47, 127, 281 wooden 47, 272, 281 audience halls 36, 126, 193, 238, 315, 330 in houses 422 of bishops 309, 462 of emperors 18 balustrades  in stone, new-cut 102 in stone, reused friezes 102 in wood 137 of nymphaea 101 of porticoes 15n benches 313, 322, 370, 404, 422, 436, 465 in marble 320 in wood 312 masonry 16 booths in wood 379 cantonment (closure of back streets by walls) 143–45, 449 capitals  with gilding 65 Attic-Ionic impost 106 Corinthian 67, 79–80, 90, 98, 126–27, 271–72, 348, 390 Corinthian / Composite 80, 281 ceiling 260, 282, 313, 354, 397, 443 coffered 272, 282 gilded 313, 354 mosaic-covered 72 plastered 135, 272, 282 ciboria 325, 327–28, 423 column bases  Attic 67, 328, 390 Attic-Ionic 67, 272 Ionic 328, 348, 390 columns  engaged 47, 72, 76, 80, 90, 271, 341 Ionic 105, 328 monolithic 67, 127, 281, 325, 348 projecting 47, 79–80, 98, 105, 129, 131, 385

Index conduits 109, 114–15, 118–19 dipylon 78, 277 façades  aediculated 104 concave 129, 132 for temples, distyle 328 for temples, prostyle  325, 328 piered 131, 385 see also porches and screens, of projecting columns  forecourts 85, 131, 332 atria 371, 373 closed colonnaded 131 domestic 131 insulae 16, 21, 58 irregular 25–26 rectangular 20, 23, 25 square 25 lattices 137 in wood 15 mezzanine 36, 405 wooden 397 mosaics  black and white 48, 277, 282, 390 figural 48, 272, 390, 432, 461 geometric 48, 102, 282, 313, 390, 432 in ecclesiastical fountains 106, 461 in fora / agorai porticoes 48, 275, 279, 282, 343, 384 in nymphaea 105 in plazas 390 in shops 390, 401 in streets porticoes  48, 236, 261, 400–401 of carpets with single-panels 432 of mixed carpets  48, 282, 432 regional differences 48, 432 opus latericium 324–26 opus sectile  black and white 48, 347, 390 coloured 313 geometric 313 in agorai porticoes 347 in council chambers  313 in fora  282 in plazas 272 in streets porticoes  48–49, 236 in temples 328 of chequer board pattern 48 of diagonal pattern 48, 347 of mixed carpets 48 of plain designs 48 opus signinum  in basilicas 285 in fora porticoes 282 in nymphaea 104 pattern diagonal 36, 48, 54, 431 see also opus sectile in diagonal pattern herringbone  54, 137, 431 paving  marble  in agorai, plazas 348, 433 in fora porticoes 276, 347, 433 mortar 52, 278, 285, 287 in fora / agorai porticoes 385 in shops 401 in sidewalks 52

613 in streets 57, 59 in streets porticoes 50 stone in plazas 48, 280, 282, 284, 336, 348 in shops 401 in streets 53–54, 56, 60–61, 138, 427 tile  in fora/agorai porticoes 282 in shops 398, 401 in street porticoes 49, 276 pediment Syrian 79, 124, 127, 277, 432 pilasters Corinthian  80 porches 124–32 fastigium (pedimental porch of house) 124 lean-to 18 plaster, painted in fora / agorai porticoes 275–76, 282, 407 in nymphaea 99, 102–103, 278 in shops 400–401, 411 in street porticoes 61, 402 in temples 328 of faux marble 401 of geometric, floral, figural, Christian motifs 401 precinct 294, 328, 330, 408 reliefs 158, 163n, 171–72, 207, 248, 308, 316n, 317n, 416, 424, 431, 434, 456 Medusa head 79, 81, 273 reused for nymphaeum basin 278 tombs, as source of artisan detail 402, 403 revetment marble  72, 90, 130, 286, 313, 317, 328, 431, 433 in fora / agorai porticoes 131, 275–76, 282, 400 in fountains 99, 101, 103–104, 278 in street porticoes 48 roofs 112–13, 138, 164, 201, 256, 282, 333, 398 flat 137 gilded 282, 354 of ceramic tiles, stone tiles, barrel vaulted 398 screens  architectural 105 of columns 98, 102–103, 446 of engaged columns 133 of marble 106 of projecting columns 131 screens  for segregation 370 stone 15, 102 statues xxviii, 72, 81–82, 84, 99, 104, 122, 131, 144, 313, 323, 328, 346, 419, 427, 432, 445, 455, 461 absence of 106 bases  blank / anepigraphic 296 reused 296–97 dedicants 82, 91, 123, 288, 292–93, 307, 352 display 144, 237, 288, 294–95, 321 groups 72, 101, 123, 271, 297, 299, 307, 329–30, 349, 435 honorands 91, 123, 290, 292, 294–95, 307, 432 in bronze 31, 72, 90, 92, 267, 287–88, 350–51, 430, 433 in equestrian form  89, 92, 290, 297, 349–50 in gilded bronze 72, 81, 90, 171, 174, 288, 313, 349 landscapes of 288–89, 297, 350, 425, 435 modification  101, 104, 294, 349, 424–425 mutilation 254 genitalia removal 101 of life-size 66, 67, 72, 88

614 statues (cont.) of double life-size 88 of triple life-size 72, 88 on fora / agorai 4th–5th c. 297–308 on fora / agorai 6th c. 349–51 on streets 122–24 stucco painted 401 surfaces  battuto 50 beaten earth 13, 114–15, 138–39, 148, 254, 330, 334, 336, 347 in plazas 390 in shops 401–402, 407 in street porticoes 49, 51, 282 in streets 58–60, 251 cobbles 58, 138, 283 in street porticoes 50–51, 139 in streets 60 gravel 52, 56, 114, 133, 137–38, 348, 401, 419, 441, 447 in fora / agorai 277, 280 in streets 57–61 water pipes 16, 30, 54, 95, 103, 105, 107, 109–110 esp., 133, 135, 143, 149, 419, 421, 468 maintenance 109 new  109 window   repairs 54, 94, 103, 109–110 glass, panes 398   2.3 Site Features    acclamations inscribed  153, 164, 237, 455 Chi-Rho 85–86, 90, 93, 108, 462 apotropaic 85 gameboards  as indicators of social interaction 321 painted 121, 315, 360, 384, 401, 436 crosses on 254, 449 cut casually 321 cut professionally  254, 261, 321, 352, 449 epigrams on 435 in agorai xxv, 235–36, 322, 352, 360–61, 437, 440, 446, 449, 463 in church atria 367 in fountains  241 in streets 119, 240–41, 261 painted 241 provision of 427 graffiti 7, 9, 14, 109, 144, 262, 372, 444, 449, 455, 466 behavioural 7 carved 241 carved on gates 255, 257 casual epigraphy of 437 crosses on walls and columns 254, 256, 257 religious 254–57, 262 huts semi-permanent  376 inscriptions painted  120, 164, 296, 401 kiln pottery 335, 355, 395 manholes 113, 117–18 inscribed 118 market stalls 258, 375–76, 406, 413, 416, 430 functions 380–81 semi-permanent 380–81 wooden 61, 374, 376, 377 menorahs carved outside shops 256, 402

Index ovens 404, 414 postholes 376 roof catchment systems 110 rubbish deposits secondary  119, 258, 337, 354 stone squats permanent 376 striations 249, 252, 278, 323 tethering holes 245, 322, 436 sundials 236, 261, 353, 361, 372, 427, 447, 473 carved / painted 353 on columns 279 stone 353 tanks 404 tribunals imperial images in  317 in civil basilicas 286 in fora / agorai 316–17 topos inscriptions  244, 254, 256, 358, 374, 376–79, 386, 393, 403, 413–14, 416, 429, 438, 442, 452 in agorai 362, 377–78 in entertainment buildings  256, 358, 378, 386, 438, 452 in streets 61, 379 on columns 378 wheel ruts 53, 58, 61–62, 139, 235, 249–52, 254, 441 absence of 322     2.4 Materials    basalt 52, 54, 56–58, 60, 137–39, 251, 404, 431, 442 mortaria 404 bronze  72, 84, 89, 105, 123, 277, 282, 313, 317, 328, 334–35, 352, 354, 375, 382, 386, 405–406 dolomite  139, 431 gilding 65, 81, 84, 127, 158, 197, 247, 402 of roofs 282, 354 glass  weights 406 goblets 405 glass, panes, window  398 gold vessels 167, 179 granite  47, 56, 80, 89, 131, 272, 281–82, 325, 327, 385, 390, 442 Egyptian Red Aswan 65, 89, 126 Troadesian  65, 89 iron grille 398 ivory 169, 172, 183, 248, 386, 406 workshop 362, 386 of Trier 159, 167 see diptychs  limestone Nummulite  348 marble  bigio 390 Breccia corallina 390 cipollino 99, 131, 282, 313, 385 for benches 320 for mortaria 404 giallo antico 80, 282, 313 Lunensian 80 Parian 99 pavonazzetto 80, 282, 313 porphyry 89–90, 105, 126, 131, 288, 312–13 Proconnesian 72, 80, 89, 272, 348, 433 rosso antico 385 serpentino 313 verde antico 72 masonry for benches  16

Index pottery xxv, 11, 138, 282, 323, 364, 391 silver vessels 260 sandstone Pennant 279 trachyte 56, 138–39, 143, 252, 431 wood  balustrades 137 benches 312 booths 379 lattices 15   3.1 Objects    armour 90, 157–58, 161, 229, 288 shield 157–58, 166, 179, 444 helmet 90, 157 bag 150, 174, 238 balances 406 banner 158, 162, 217, 228 basternae (litter / sedan chairs carried by mules) 247–48 bells 175, 184, 244, 416 biers 167, 196, 198, 200–201, 438, 440 schoolbook 195, 237, 260, 315, 333, 439 carpenta (four-wheeled carts) 157, 159, 171–73, 176, 183, 246, 247, 434 carriages 159, 179, 248, 259 closed 246 in silver 159 state 182–83 carrucae (carriages) 246 carts 20, 113, 248, 258, 415 hand 53 for stone 59 for display of captives 181 see plaustra  censer 163, 222 chain 179, 181, 185, 190, 320 cloth 137, 175, 197, 223, 346, 382, 396, 400, 403, 404, 412 sackcloth 200 coins 30, 59, 109, 153, 168, 170, 173–74, 192, 213, 251, 257, 287, 323, 329, 336, 363–64, 455, 465, 472 of bronze 375, 406, 439 of gold 188, 213, 228 for New Year 207 counters 380, 393, 405 bar 407, 416 facing streets 403 crater 183, 352, 205 bronze 205 crosses 163 apotropaic 85, 254, 294, 456 as declaration of civic identity 255 as decoration 254, 456, 449 as indicator of religious identity 256–57, 402 as sanctifiers 254, 449, 463 as votive acts 257 processional 225 in inscriptions 424, 462–63 see also under site features cudgel 243 cupboards in shops 402 cushions 158–59 decrees imperial  displayed in / around churches 316, 368 displayed in fora / agorai 316

615 diadem 158, 168, 200, 206, 287  dice tower 241  diptychs in Bourges 168 of Aetius 168 of Anastasius 174 of Astyrius 183, 168–69 of Honorius 158 of Probianus 183 of Symmachi (Apotheosis)  109, 172 of Symmachi and Nicomachi 158n, 203n dolia 405 exuviae (attributes of gods) 171 fasces 159, 169 fercula (litters) 171, 179, 447 flags 158, 161, 162, 181, 229, 328  furnaces glass 404 gameboards xxv, 119, 235, 236, 240, 254, 261, 321, 322, 352, 360, 361, 367, 427, 435, 437, 440, 446, 449, 463 goblets glass 405 grilles iron 398 harness 159 horologia (public clocks) 352–53, 364, 425 see also sundials  see also water clocks  icons 9, 82, 155, 165, 222, 224 of Christ, above gates 456 of emperors, above gates  84 incense 91, 155, 200, 208, 228, 330, 371, 398 javelins 82, 177, 188 jewellery boxes 192 jugs 243 lamps  glass 121 oil lamps, public 35, 120–21, 258, 414 paid by shopkeepers 258, 414, 442, 447 places lit by 121 lances 90, 187, 188 letters, imperial  read in churches 367, 459 read in fora / agorai 315 litters 12, 159, 184n, 434 closed 246 see also basternae of consuls 168–69 of communion vessels 216 painted portraits in 181 see ferculum  see sedan chairs  loom weights 405 medallions 169, 170, 174, 176, 177, 206   mensa ponderaria / sekômata (measuring table) 413 mortaria 113, 404 musical instruments  flute 197 cymbals 244 organ 171 panpipe 244 tambourines 161, 162 trumpets 158, 171 napkin 197 pen case 183, 317

616 pilentum / petorritum (closed carriage) 246 pileus (liberty cap) 198 plaque 169, 174, 205, 278, 313, 325, 329 plaustra (two-wheeled wagons) 246 pole 117, 157, 174, 187–88, 247, 250, 258, 472 pots  chamber 113 cooking 165 water-pots 243 boiling 323, 380 pottery  production 324 pyxides, ivory 183 rhedae (four-wheeled covered coach) 246–47 ring, iron 117, 176, 427 rug 242, 247 scrolls 102, 183 sedan chairs  53, 245, 247, 249, 430 see litters  sellae (chairs) 247 of consuls 168 see sedan chairs  shelves, in shops 390, 401, 405 spangles 158 spears 90, 157, 176, 179 stamp 176, 179, 472 steelyards   406 stibadia 237 stick/rod 159, 169, 182, 194, 248, 250, 441 stretcher 188 sundials 236, 279, 261, 331n, 352–53, 372, 427, 447, 473 see horologia  swords 187, 188, 359n tablets bronze 316, 383 ivory 315 taps 104, 110 tensae (mobile platforms) 171–72 thrones 157–58, 168, 178–79, 226 tissues 260 torch/torchlight 102, 103, 121, 162, 167, 197, 200, 202, 203, 212, 213 trophies 72, 81, 176, 178 vessels  for communion 216 drinking 205, 323 for hot wine 405 of gold 167, 179 of silver 260 wagons 112, 159, 244, 246–48, 261 for freight, four-wheeled 246 for sleeping, four-wheeled 246 see rhedae  wand (virga) 194, 284 water-basins 209 water clocks 352–53 wax candles / tapers 162, 164, 200–201, 223, 226, 228 in Christian processions 155, 171, 198, 212, 222, 225 marital candle 166 candle-bearing 198 candle makers 394 weapons 84, 90, 169, 177, 182, 183, 288 baton 175, 193, 194 bows 177 pike 177 weights, of glass 406

Index wheeled vehicles 12–13, 145, 149, 246–47, 249 windsocks 157 writing tablets 193   3.2 Clothing  chlamys 162, 168, 183, 205, 290, 360 clergy / clerical 221 cloth cleaning 396 dress codes as indicator of identity 162 festival  costume 211 flammeum (wedding veil) 204 funeral and mourning 197, 200 himation 162 imperial  cloak 313 military 166 cloak 288 paenula (official mantle) 159, 169, 171, 183 palla 204 pallium 222–23 toga 123, 162, 171, 360 embroidered  173 praetexta 169 trabea 169 triumphal costume 176 tunic 166, 169, 204, 211, 222 wedding  204 flammeum (veil) 204 of guests 205 4.1 Processions  Concept  culture of 214, 227, 231–33, 427–28, 434 crowd reaction 167n, 170,n, 187n, 194 definition of 152 as formation of identity  228   Political adventus 150–54 imperial 152–53, 158, 162, 167, 176 route of 164 of imperial portraits 155, 187 of bishops 156–57, 234 of governors 156n, 229, 146 of relics 182 circus  152, 170, 174 pompa circensis 171–74, 214, 231 consular 168, 172–74 games 168, 170, 172–74 circus parade 174 inauguration (processus consularis)  168, 214, 231 damnatio (ritual of dragging)  188, 190, 229, 232, 289, 295, 330 decalvatio (Germanic punishment practice) 185–86 imperial   weddings 166–67, 434 accession ceremony 166 festival 166 occursus (an advanced group in adventus ceremonies)  160 of body parts 187 of captives 176, 179, 181, 190 of governors (daily, around city)  193, 229, 234

617

Index of inauguration 226 of performers 174n of praetorian prefects (prominence of) 234 of prisoners 191 of / as punishment  184, 186, 233 routes of 191 to execution 186, 229 see decalvatio (Germanic punishment practice)  of supplication 212, 214, 217, 220–21, 231 profectio 165 triumph / triumphal entries 73, 150–51, 164, 176, 178   Religious  Christian 226, 229, 231, 234, 426 at Easter 216 between holy places 215 festival see below inside churches 214 Litania Maior (later known as major rogation)  215 litany 159, 181, 216–17, 219, 233 of Maurice 227 liturgical 154, 228, 463 of Arians 220, 223, 226 of heretics 224 pre-dawn 219 rogation  Lenten 225 processions 220 stational liturgy (stationes) 5, 216, 218 street rituals 215, 225, 227, 229 thanksgiving for victory 179 festival  Christian 4, 215, 217, 449 games 213 Kalends (New Year) 154, 170, 1773, 209–214, 229, 231–32, 428, 439–41 kômoi (cortege) 151 licence 190, 212 markets 380, 411 to Adonis 208n visits to temple 214 street rituals 209, 232 see also specific festivals, under pagan, below  Jewish  Purim  street rituals 226 Yom Kippur 226 pagan 208, 212, 223 Ambarvalia  215 Cybele / Magna Mater  207 devotional 152–54, 206, 208, 449, 456 Lupercalia festival 209–10, 212, 214, 456 Maiuma festival 154, 208–209, 211–13 Robigalia 215 see also festival, kômoi Samaritan street rituals  226 supplicatory 218, 220, 444, 463 see also procession of supplications   Social  funeral processions  150, 191, 196, 198–201, 221, 227, 230, 319, 434, 438, 440 Catholic 224 Christianised 221

daytime 199, 426 imperial 167, 368 patronal 191, 193–95, 229–30, 233–34, 240, 361, 459 street rituals 150, 152, 154, 166, 208, 217, 224–25, 227, 230–31, 233–34, 440 wedding  153, 202, 205, 230, 333 of gifts 205   Other  street movements  151, 181–83, 213, 220, 227, 233, 239, 244  5.1

Gods and Cults

There is no overall index on Christianity, as the topic pervades discussion of Late Antiquity and other books are better placed to consider it. However, some specific Christian sects do appear here. Attis 207 Adonis 208, 236n Angels (as objects of cult) 109, 459 Aphrodite 203, 390 statue monument 256 Temple of, Antioch 208  Temple of Venus-Aphrodite, Jerusalem 330  mosaics 461  Apollo  statue monument 92, 100, 314 of Apollo Helios 279 Patroos, statue of  314 Temple of, Daphne 206, 215, 213n Temple of, Bulla Regia 294   Ares  statue monument 84, 236,   Temple of, Athens 274, 330 Artemis 84, 241, 256, 286  Temple of, Ephesus 418,   Athena  statue monument 84, 101, 236, 325 (Pallas) 364 of Lindos 294, 313  see Pallas Caelestis 207n Capitoline Triad Temple of, Sergemes 329 Castor and Pollux Temple of, Rome 329 Concord statue monuments 292, 294, 301, 303, 444 Cults 9, 328–29, 423, 444, 467 public 363 Cybele  hairstyle for brides 204 procession, Rome 207 sanctuary, Athens 314 statue in parade 171, 172  Demeter  Sanctuary of, Cyrene 455  Dionysus  101  Dionysus-Satyr 100  statue monument 101, 350, 390 street processions 210, 211  Temple of, Miletus 330,   Eros  in general 100, 102 statue monument 294  

618 Eunomians  450   Flora Temple of, Rome 313  Gaia 102n  Genius  of Rome  93 of the City 299 of the Colony 292 of the Roman People 292, 308 of the Senate 292 of the People 292 Hades  statue monument 308 Hecate   shrine, Daphne 213n Helios  statue monument 72, 92, 279 Heracles, Gate of, Ephesus  306 statue monument 306 Heretics 219, 223, 225, 243, 321, 370, 450, 456 Hermes  in general 241, 443 statue monument 100, 101, 331 Temple of, Antioch 330, 331 Imperial cult  consecratio (deification) 171–72 imperial statues  see decoration, statues temples 292, 329–30, 423, 455 Isis  Shrine of, Menouthis 185 Janus ‘Temple of’, Rome 325 Judaism  in general 451, 452, 468, 473 Juno see Capitoline Triad Jupiter column of 91 sacrifices to 214 statue monument   293, 300, 313, 331 Temple of, Saepinum 325–26, 328 Temple of, Thubursicu Numidarum 328 Temple of, Rome 362 see Capitoline Triad Liber Pater Temple of, Sabratha 326, 329 Temple of, Mactaris 325 Magna Mater see Cybele Temples of, Rome 207 Manicheans  449 Mars statue monument 331 Temple of, Rome 363 Minerva image /statue of at Aquileia 303 at Rome, Palladian 72 at Rome, in Atrium Min. 294, 314 see Capitoline Triad Mithras 472 Monophysites 451 Muses  statue monument 100, 313, 390 Temple of, in Antioch 330   Nemesis, statue monument 84

Index Novatians 451 Nymphs 108, 109, 462 Pallas, statue monument 292 (Palladium) 325 Pan, statue monument 101 Persephone, Sanctuary of, Cyrene  455   Rhea, statue monument 324, 325, Roma, goddess 72, 213, 317 Romulus, founder of Rome 292  statue monuments 292  ‘Temple of’, at Rome 126–31, 355 Saturn statue of 328 Temple of, Rome 325, 328, 329 Serapis Images of, Alexandria 256 Sol 82 statue monument 293 Tyche 292, 328 civic 90, 171, 292, 313, 390 of Constantinople 325, 328 of Rome 73, 328 of Rome and Rhea 325 of Sagalassos 327 of the Blues 413 of the metropolis 123 Venus Temple of, Jerusalem 330 Temple of, Rome 213, 277, 326, 329 Statue of 91, 100 Statue related to 326 Vulcan Sanctuary of, in Rome 308, 445 Zeus 424   as Counsellor 313   of Carian 257   of Dodonia 294, 313 of Olympia 213  statue monument 72, 93, 101, 331 Stoa of, at Athens 276   street processions 213   Temple of, at Aizanoi 330 Temple of, at Panamara 206 6.1 Emperors, Usurpers, and Family Members   Aelia Flacilla, Augusta statue monuments  123, 306, 313 Anastasius I xxvii, 28, 68, 91, 168, 188, 359, 360, 368, 454  adventus 155 Chalke Gate, in Constantinople 68–70, 178 religion 198, 201, 221, 224, 363, 368  statue monuments 88, 90, 92, 174, 297, 349, 350  street processions 179, 181, 190, 201, 233  Anthemius  fountains 278  statue monuments 156 Antoninus Pius statue monuments 293, 300  Arcadius 82, 88, 91, 167, 356  Arch of, in Rome 81  column of, in Constantinople 35, 46, 86, 88–92, 167, 272–73, 297  Forum of, in Constantinople 267, 270–72, 274, 285, 297, 317 

Index statue monuments 84, 90, 293, 296–297, 302, 313,  street processions 167, 205  wife of 327  Augustus (first emperor) xxvii, 171, 279, 310  Forum of, in Rome 363 Horologium of, in Rome 279 Rome and Augustus Temple, in Ostia 330 statue monuments 300  Aurelian 59, 86, 144, 292, 317  Aurelian Wall, in Rome 83  statue monuments 293, 301, 308, 313  transport 246   Avitus 155n  Basiliscus 159, 369  accession 166 as usurper 159, 165  statue monuments 84  Caligula  statue monuments  305  Caracalla 80  nymphaeum 102, 104  statue monuments 293, 299–301, 305  Carinus statue monuments 301  wife of  301  Carus statue monuments 295, 360  Claudius Porta Maggiore, in Rome 83 Claudius II Gothicus  86  statue 90, 293, 301 Commodus statue monuments  293, 300  Constans I  as Augustus 330 statue monuments 100, 289, 307, 330  Constans II (eastern)  363 Constantina, Augusta of Maurice  marriage 166, 167, 203, 204,   statue monuments 327  Constantine I 5, 10, 82, 155, 157, 162, 167, 176, 295–96, 330, 313, 316, 326, 329, 350, 359, 428   adventus 157–58, 165, 187 Arch of, in Rome (by Senate) 70, 74–77, 80–82, 92, 165, 167, 178, 317, 428 Arch of, in Rome (Malborghetto) 68–74 Basilica of Constantine/Maxentius, in Rome 124 city building/ New City 23–25, 56, 134, 270, 282, 325, 431–33, 466, 473,   Column of, in Constantinople 89–91, 359, 363  death of  197  Forum of, in Constantinople 62, 99–100, 102, 112, 115, 117, 131, 148, 164, 166–67, 171, 190, 233, 265, 266–67, 269–73, 278–79, 289, 292, 309, 312–13, 315–17, 319, 343, 349, 358–59, 362–65, 371, 389, 427, 431–32, 445 Golden Gates of, in Constantinople 79–81 medallions of 174  religion 328, 423, 458, 462, 466  statue monuments 70, 72–75, 81, 86, 88–92, 99, 124, 130, 171, 178, 266, 289, 294–95, 297, 299–300, 326, 428, 445 street processions 155, 167, 173, 176, 187, 197, 207 tetrapylon for, in Rome 68–73   wife of  127  

619 Constantine II statue monuments  326, 329  Constantine III (western) as co-emperor 160 Constantine V 362  Constantius II (Chlorus)  82, 155–56, 160, 189, 212, 284, 289, 295–96, 316, 328, 330 Basilica for Constantius II, in Cirta, Numidia 73, 284  Baths of Constantius, in Ephesus 132 funeral 167, 197, 200 medallions of 174  shops 394  statue monuments 73–74, 100, 167, 190, 279, 296, 299, 300–302, 305, 307, 325–26  street processions 155–57, 165, 167, 176 Constantius III Forum by, in Liguria  268 Crispus forum 290  statue monuments 89, 329  Decius, see Trajan Decius Diocletian 91, 138, 310, 324, 412, 451 Arch of Diocletian & Maximian, in Macomades 82   Arch of, in Sufetula 76   Camp of, in Palmyra 41   Column of, in Alexandria 86, 88–90 Palace of, in Split 24, 26, 37, 41, 79, 428, 431–32  statue monuments 100, 296, 299–300, 306, 313, 316, 326  street processions 176, 179, 181 Domitian 15, 375  Nymphaeum of, in Ephesus 101 Square of, in Ephesus 95  statue monuments 102  Temple of, in Ephesus 330, 397, 408 Elagabalus 195, 248  Eudocia, Augusta and mother of Heraclius 167, 368n  Eudocia (Flavia) / Athenais, Augusta Column of, in Athens 89 Column of, in Constantinople 89 statue monuments 88, 90–91, 156, 288, 296, 305, 317, 327, 329  Eudoxia (Aelia), Augusta  156n  Column of, in Constantinople 317, 327, 329 street processions 167, 205  statue monuments 237n, 289, 296 Eugenius 205  medallions 174  Galerius 156, 181  adventus 157–58, 161 Arch of, in Thessalonica 45, 82, 157–58, 162, 177, 206  statue monuments 301–302  Temple of Jupiter, in Saepinum 326 Villa of, at Romuliana 69, 73, 78 Galla Placidia, Augusta  167, 181  statue monuments 288  Gallus 120, 165, 183, 189  reaction to street lights 120, 430  statue monuments 296, 302  street processions 165, 183, 189 Geta statue monuments 302  Gordian I statue monuments 300 Gordian II medallion 174  Gordian III 293, 302  statue monuments 300, 302, 308

620 Gratian  Arch of, at Rome 83, 178  death 247  Forum, at Rome 265  statue monuments 127, 241, 302, 305, 327  wife of  247, 296, 327 Hadrian 81, 93, 317, 325  Gate of, in Athens 74  Gate of, in Ephesus 74, 255, 306 Hadrianic Baths, at Aphrodisias 257 Hadrianic city of Athens 27  Hadrian’s Library, in Athens 473 nymphaeum 100, 257  statue monuments 293, 300, 306, 348  Temple of, in Ephesus 297, 300, 306 transport policy 246  Helena, Augusta statue monuments 88, 89, 92, 93, 288, 297, 325, 326, 360,   Helena, niece of Justin II  72  Heraclius 59, 88, 95, 363, 475 family/dynasty of  95, 100, 167 military campaigns  160, 189  statue monuments 95, 302, 349 street processions 160–63, 168 Honorius 81, 83, 359 Arch of, in Rome 81, 178 Forum, in Constantinople 267  statue monuments 84, 176, 297, 302, 313   street processions 157, 166, 168–69, 176, 178–79, 181, 203, 318  wedding of 166, 203, 205 Illus and Leontius 187  Illus as sole consul 273  Ioannes /Usurper John 81  street processions 185  Irene 82  Jovian street processions 168  Julian 35, 119, 165, 208, 212, 248, 296, 314, 456  Column of, in Ankara/Constantinople 86, 88  religion 82, 208, 210, 323, 443, 464 statue monuments 74, 82, 85, 88, 213, 290, 296, 299–301, 303, 328  street processions 161–63, 169, 190, 195, 196–97, 200, 202–203, 206–208, 212, 215, 223, 290 (erasure of), 324–25 Justin I 88, 91  street processions 189  Temple for, in Constantinople 362 Justin II 80, 88  adventus 155  family/dynasty of  433  statue monuments 68, 72, 88–89, 92, 352, 432  street processions 162, 167–69, 224 wife of  72 Justinian I 28, 114, 117–18, 170, 184, 353 Chalke of, at Constantinople 70, 72–73 Church of Hagia Sophia, in Constantinople 363, 456  city planning 28, 43, 45, 47, 115, 128, 131, 133, 137, 139, 340–41, 345, 348–50, 358–60, 362–63, 401, 434 Column of, at Constantinople 60, 87, 89–90, 360, 361, 434  Column of, at Hebdomon, Constantinople 88, 89 funeral 200–201 legislation 198–99, 214, 220, 224, 320, 322, 352  religion 93, 186, 199–201, 220, 224, 452, 474  statue monuments 51, 68, 80, 86–90, 92, 98, 102, 178, 288, 349, 362, 434

Index

street life 117–18, 120–21, 249, 252, 412, 414  street processions 159–60, 167–68, 174–76, 181, 191, 196–97, 199–201, 227, 422, 438, 446  time-keeping device 352, 452, 466 Justinian II street processions  179  Leo I 156, 278  Column of, in Constantinople 89, 91 Forum of, in Constantinople 182, 186, 267, 272, 358, 432  statue monuments 88, 90, 267, 288, 290, 298, 420  street processions 164, 166, 187, 190–91 wife of  85  Leontios of Neapolis  240, 411  Licinius I 82, 178, 229 Licinius II 229  Lucius Verus statue monuments 292, 300  Magnentius  73, 187, 290 street processions 187  Magnus Maximus  156 as usurper 162  Marcian 88, 92  Column of, in Constantinople 89, 93 Forum of, in Constantinople 267, 297 statue monuments 86, 88–90, 297, 317, 420  Marcus Aurelius statue monuments  88, 293, 295, 300, 317, 402, 445  street processions 246  Maurice 88, 161, 186, 350, 368, 449 family of 72  medallion 174  statue monuments 68, 72  street processions 166, 181, 184, 186, 203–204, 227  Maxentius 292  Basilica of, in Rome 47, 124, 126–27, 129–30, 136, 284, 285, 432  civil war 74, 81, 165, 187  death 187  statue monuments 92, 155–56, 289–90, 301–302, 308  Maximian 310, 313, 316 statue monuments 82, 100, 168, 299  street processions 176, 178–79, 181 Maximinus I Thrax statue monuments  295, 300, 306 Maximinus II/ Daia street processions  197  Nepotianus/Nepotian as usurper  187 Nero  Gate of, in Ephesus 256  Hall of, in Ephesus 148, 286–87, 358  Nerva Forum of, at Rome 114, 131, 329 Petronius Maximus 165, 188  Forum of, at Rome 265, 297  street processions 165, 188  Philip I 22  Phocas 92, 185, 187, 190, 363  Column of, at Rome 86–87, 89–90, 283, 292, 349  Column of, at Constantinople 86, 88 Column of, in Athens 88, 93  Column of, in the Great Palace 88 plaza 341, 354  statue monuments 84, 92–93, 292, 341, 349  street processions 155, 165, 188, 190, 359 wife of 155 

621

Index Priscus Attalus as usurper  81, 181  Probus 91  statue monuments 306  Pulcheria, Augusta statue monuments  313  Romulus, son of Maxentius 92  Sabina, Augusta statue monuments  81, 293, 294, 301, 326, 445  Serena, imperial princess street processions for wedding 166, 203, 205  Septimius Severus  9, 207  Arch of, at Rome 74, 307  avenue by 46  statue monuments 300  Severus Alexander street processions  246–47 Severus II statue monuments  289 Tacitus acclamations honouring  378n  Theodora, Augusta  5, 72, 169n, 179n  Column of, Constantinople 89, 91 statue monument  88 Theodosius I 156, 167, 177, 237, 273, 285 Arch of, at Constantinople  45, 74, 78, 80–81, 178, 272, 343, 434 Column of, at Constantinople 86, 88, 90, 92, 179–81, 184  Column of, at Hebdomon 89 Forum of, in Constantinople 25, 45, 75, 79, 91, 95–96, 112, 115, 266–67, 269–73, 278, 282, 284–85, 290, 297, 316, 343–45, 347–48, 351, 362, 365, 384, 433 Forum of, at Lepcis Magna 273 Golden Gates of, at Constantinople 79, 81 religion 179  statue monuments 84, 88–89, 91–92, 127, 180–81, 288, 295, 297, 302, 313, 351, 355  street processions 161–62, 177–78, 184, 199, 223, 321  wife/family of 82, 290  Theodosius II xxvii, 81, 84, 91, 270, 273  Arch of, at Rome (with Arcadius/Honorius) 81, 83  child Theodosius, son of Galla Placidia and Ataulf 167 Column of, at Constantinople 85, 88, 297 Column of, at Hebdomon 88–89  statue monuments 81, 86, 89, 91–92, 273, 297, 313, 351   street processions 166–67, 221   Theodosius III statue monuments  297 Theophilus emperor  60, 364  Tiberius I  62  Tiberius II 88, 123  medallion 174  street processions 186  Titus  179, 444  Trajan 91–92  Column of, at Rome 89–91, 273 Forum of, at Rome 81, 285, 288, 290, 307, 315–17  nymphaeum 100–101, 104, 306 statue monuments 89, 293, 295, 301, 306, 445  Via Trajana 252  Trajan Decius 185  Valens 76, 91  Arch of, at Rome 77, 80–81 Forum of, at Antioch 265, 297  Forum of, at Rome 265 

statue monuments 73, 81, 297, 299, 302, 307–308, 313, 329  statue monuments 302  Valentinian I 76  Arch of, at Rome 77, 80–81, 84 Column of, at Antioch 92  Forum of, at Rome 265  statue monuments 73, 81, 91, 277, 297, 299, 302, 307–308, 313, 327, 329 Valentinian II  Arch of, at Rome 83–84, 178 statue monuments 127, 277, 299, 302, 305, 308, 327, 329  Valentinian III 318  statue monuments 299, 317  Vespasian 84, 351  Monument of, at Side 103  statue monuments 293, 305  Zeno 88, 187, 258, 267, 324, 361 Henotikon of 160  statue monuments 68, 72  street planning 31, 61, 380 street processions 165  6.2 Kings and non-Roman rulers  Athanaric  199, 313 Caliph ‘Umar  161 Charlemagne, Emperor 160n, 162–63n, 165n Clovis, King  street procession 166–70 Guntram, King 155, 161–62, 166 Romulus, founder of Rome 292  statue monuments 292  ‘Temple of’, at Rome 126–31, 355 Theoderic II, King 239 Theoderic, King 349, 358–59 funeral of 167 street procession 183 architecture 108–10, 127 street procession 161   6.3 Generals    Amantianos, magister officiorum/magister militum 185 Ardaburius, magister militum 248 Argimundus, dux provinciae 185 Avitianus, comes 181 Bauto, magister militum 205 Belisarius  110, 168–69, 175, 249, 322, 360, 362, 371 street processions 175, 179, 192–93 Celer, General 161–62, 165 Diodorus, comes 189 Ellebichus, General 165, 237, 288 Fl. Astyrius, General, Consul 168 diptych 169, 183 street processions 169 Fl. Fravitta, General 187 Gainas, General  street processions for victory over him 181, 187 killing of supporters  467n Hermogenes, magister equitum 189 Peter, General 161

622

Index

Philagrius, comes orientis 410 Pompey, General 73, 177 Priscus, General 197 Promotus, magister equitum 205 Stilicho, General  statue monument 288 street processions 166, 168, 203, 205 Theodore, General 164 6.4

Civilian Imperial Officials 

Acilius Glabrio Sibidius signo Spedius, Vicar of Septem Provinciae 297 Andreas, Urban Prefect of Cple  184 Adamantius, praefectus urbi 61, 138 Alexander, Praetorian Prefect 368 Antonius Priscus of Caria, praeses  313 Aurelian, Praetorian Prefect 313 Callistratus, Consul 316n Cariae, praeses of statue monument 291 Claudius Avitianus, Vicar of Africa 73, 284 Clovis, Consul at Tours see also Kings 168 Constantine, Prefect at Constantinople 85 Cyrus, Praetorian Prefect and Urban Prefect 120 Domitianus, Praetorian Prefect 189–90 Dracontius, Mint Superintendent 189 Dracontius, Vicar of Africa 313n Dulcitus, governor 277 Eutropius, eunuch 179 Eutropius, Proconsul 123, 176, 178, 205 Festus, Proconsul 108 Fl. Palmatus, Consular Governor, Vicar of Asia statue monument 290, 291, 303, 349, 351 Galenus, quaestor 290 Gracchus, Urban Prefect of Rome  185 Illus, Consul 273 John, Urban Prefect? at Cple 368 Junius Annius Bassus, Consul 169, 171, 173, 196, 198 Junius Bassus, Consul   funeral 173, 198, 200–201 Leontius, the comes ospariou 368 Mamertinus, Consul 168n Marcellinus, comes 187, 318, 359 Marinus the Syrian, Praetorian Prefect 188, 193 Menas, Prefectus Vigilum  189, 190, 318 Modestus, comes orientis 401 Montius, quaestor 189, 190 Monaxius, Urban Prefect of Constantinople 184 Narses, magister officiorum 187 Nevitta, Consul 168n Patricius, Consul 273, 354 Petronius Probus, Praetorian Prefect 196 Philip, Praetorian Prefect 223 Probianus, Vicar of Rome 183 Proclus, comes orientis 267, 268 Proculs, Urban Prefect at Cple 186n Ricimer, Consul 273, 354 Rufinus, Consul 173, 188, 190–91, 331 Rufus, Consul  statue monument 292, 313 Serapio, Consul 290

Sergius, Praetorian Prefect 358 S I Frontius, Proconsul  statue monument 305 Stephanus, Governor 110, 243, 454 statue monument 306  Symmachus, Consul 179, 247, 385, 434 Tatianus, Augustal Prefect 156 Tribonian, magister officiorum 175, 176 Varronianus, Consul 88 Victor, Urban Prefect at Cple 186, 359 Vitianus, Praetorian Prefect / Consular Governor statue monument 303, 349   6.5 Civic personalities     Agathias, pater of Smyrna 119, 158, 182, 242, 259, 260, 350, 352, 360, 361–62, 440, 464 Albinus, clarissimus 123, 189, 372, 422, 441 statue monument 349, 351, 360, 378 Ampelius, pater  277 Comes civitatis of Syracuse 183 Elpidius, Illustris  188 “Flavius Atheneus, clarissimus pater” 303 Frolius Caecilianus, curator 284n Hypatia, Philosopher 246, 461 as scientist 370 death of 195, 461, 470 House of, in Alexandria 193–94 Libanius, rhetor of Antioch  165, 172, 193–96, 199, 201, 227, 237–38, 245, 248, 288, 313, 406, 410, 413, 441 Pelagius, pater civitatis of Side 123 Pytheas, vir illustris 414 Q. Licinius Aurintius Victorinus, curator 325n N.B. Civic personalities who are sources, such as Libanius and Choricius are not included, unless they are actors in events described. Those known only as statue honorands or dedicators are not included.    6.6

Bishops, ecclesiastics, and holy men 

Abraham of Amida 187  Agapetus, Pope 157  Agricola, Saint (relics) 160 Ambrose, Bishop of Milan 195 Anastasius, Bishop of Antioch death 189–91  Anastasius, Bishop of Eleutheropolis 464n  Anastasius the Persian, Saint 245 Aprunculus, Bishop of Trier 226n Athanasius, Bishop of Alexandria 382, 461  street processions 154, 155, 157, 159 Avitus, Bishop of Vienne 202–203, 216, 218, 228  Avitanus, Bishop of Vienne 73, 284  Basil, Bishop of Caesarea 141, 197, 200, 201, 210, 232, 238, 243, 319, 321, 324, 368, 454   Bishop at Terracina  224  Bishop of Calama 209, 212 Bishop of Eleutheropolis 464  Cyril, Bishop of Alexandria 194, 452 Cyrus at Alexandria, Bishop  street processions 163, 164n, 467

Index Eugenius, Bishop of Carthage 186, 369  Eusebius, Bishop of Cyzicus 340 Eleusis, Bishop of Cyzicus 456n  Gallus, Bishop of Clermont / Arvernis 201, 218 225  George, Bishop of Alexandria 160, 246 his treatment/abuse 184–85, 189 Germanus, Bishop of Paris 198 Gregory the Great, Pope 208, 216, 219, 222–24, 424, 457  Gregory, Bishop of Antioch 449, 462  Hypatius, Bishop of Ephesus 198, 448  Ibas, Bishop of Edessa 163, 233n John the Almsgiver/Merciful, Bishop of Alexandria 361, 366, 371, 448, 474 John the Baptist, Saint 458  John Chrysostom, Bishop of Constantinople 91, 113, 117, 141, 156, 170, 200–211, 215, 245, 248, 264, 268, 318, 449 street processions 157, 163, 185, 192, 197 street life 411  John, Pope 160, 163  Jucundus, Bishop of Carthage 317 Lucius, Bishop of Alexandria 156, 161 Macrina, Nun/Saint  funeral 198, 200  Marcian, Bishop of Gaza 21, 447–48, 454, 464  building work 126, 135, 370 Marcus, Bishop of Arethusa 119 Maris, Bishop of Doliche 164,   Martin, Bishop of Tours 21, 156  street processions 159, 196  Masona, Bishop of Emerita 193, 216, 221, 438, 447, 457  Maximianus, Bishop of Ravenna 222n Meletius, Bishop of Antioch  funeral 156, 197, 200, 220 Menas, Bishop of Constantinople 159 Monica, mother of Augustine  201, 459  Monk of Marinus  188  Namatius, Bishop of Clermont 156, 160  Nazarius, Saint 160 Nikephorus, Bishop of Constantinople 167  Paul I, Bishop of Constantinople 223 Peter Mongos, Bishop of Alexandria 185n  Peter, Bishop of Alexandria 159n Peter, Bishop of Ravenna 172  Peter, Bishop of Salona 127  Proterius, Bishop of Alexandria  death 188–89, 237n, 318n, 461n  Quodvultdeus, Bishop of Carthage 224 Severus, Bishop of Antioch 213  Severian, Bishop of Gabala 155 Sergius, Bishop of Constantinople 200 Simeon Stylites the Elder, Saint 156–57  Synesius, Bishop of Ptolemais 159 Symeon Stylites the Younger, Saint  217 image of above shop door, Antioch 190 Symeon Stylites the Elder, Saint  images of, outside shop entrances, on columns, at Rome 402 Theodore of Amasea, Saint 106 Theodore of Tarsus, Bishop of Canterbury 474 Theophilus, Bishop of Alexandria 157, 185, 369 Timothy Aelurus, Bishop of Alexandria 159  Thomas, Bishop of Constantinople 223 Vigilius, Pope 165  Vitalis, Saint (relics) 160 

623 7.1 Types of People    actors 174, 411, 470 portraits of, displayed in porticoes 258 wealthy 191 artisans  location 395–96 activity 338, 385, 442 aediles 119, 155, 412, 417 agônothetes (organiser of public games) 175 agoranomoi 417 Arians 215, 223–24, 451 barbers 323–24, 386, 394, 410, 414 basternarii 247 beggars 192, 240, 242–244, 260–261, 321, 371, 404, 411–12, 443, 466 dancing 320n disabled 259 in plazas, agorai 320, 361 in streets 242, 259, 438 juggling 320n, 322 boys 163n, 193, 203, 221, 259, 319, 367, 412 see schoolboys blacksmiths 323, 396, 406 brides 150, 202–205, 440 bronzesmiths 323, 376, 413 bucellarii 360 butchers 260, 394, 412–13, 417 captives, parades 176, 179, 181, 190 carpenters 413 chandlers 416 clibanarii 157 collegia 160, 162, 293, 417, 443, 458 see guilds comes civitatis 183 coppersmiths 395, 412–13 curiales 118, 159–60, 162, 421–22 curatores 313, 412, 417 see logistes dancers 162, 175, 191, 209 exotic 449 disabled 465 see also beggars douloi (slaves accompanying wealthy men) 193 eikonophoroi (seller of pictures) 378 elite 6–7, 9, 195–97, 254, 262, 410, 420, 422, 426, 431, 440, 460, 475 emporoi (merchants) 261 epimeletai (civic functionaries) 258 eunuchs 192–94, 248, 438 factions 237, 243, 262, 436–37, 448 Blue / Blues 184, 186, 256, 452 Green / Greens 184, 186, 256, 368 flamines perpetui (civic priests) 292, 313, 327 flamines 160, 162 food sellers 257, 324 girls 188, 193, 203, 238, 259, 319, 438–39 tavern 411 wealthy 259 see virgines glassblowers 394 goldsmiths 410, 413 guilds 170, 396, 413–14 guilds see collegia homeless persons 437–8, 462

624 honorati 118, 160, 162, 199–200, 309, 312, 360, 439 Jews 160, 201, 219, 224, 226, 232, 256, 444, 449–52, 458, 466, 472, 474 koprônai (street cleaners) 118 leatherworkers 386, 405 logistes see curatores lower classes 237, 240 magistri militum 185, 187, 205, 268 makellitai 413 matrons 150, 163, 195, 246–48 middle classes 162, 410, 469 monks 223 mourners 167, 197, 199 female 197 professional 197 night watchmen 120, 122, 258, 262, 446, 464 notables, councils of 145, 309, 465 nykterinoi phylakes (night watchmen) 258 officiales 150, 162, 182–83, 227, 234, 245, 412, 440 paides (servants) accompanying a wealthy man or woman 193, 367 patres civitatum 123, 361, 401 performers 171, 174, 203, 209 circus 171, 173 theatre 175 perfumers 324, 394, 410, 416 porters 53, 247 praefectus annonae 63, 123 praefectus vigilum 190, 359 praepositi (household stewards) 194 preachers, itinerant 441, 443 princeps, of the officium (PPO) 182

Index prisoners 81, 175–76, 179, 180–81, 185, 191, 198, 229, 320, 438, 465n prytaneis 313 sacerdotales 160, 292–93 Samaritans 201, 224, 243, 256, 444, 451–52, 457, 466 schoolboys 238–40, 261, 439 senators  statues for 292 processions of 90, 158, 169, 181, 193, 200–201, 430, 440 houses of, in Rome 422 sewer cleaners 118 silversmiths 323, 381, 393–96, 398, 410, 413 slaves 118, 151, 175, 191, 193, 199, 220, 222, 231–32, 239, 245, 259, 261, 317, 319, 329, 372, 394, 410, 414, 438, 440, 447–48, 459 civic 413 freed 198, 231, 369, 440 see also douloi and paides stall holders 62, 319, 333, 379–80, 391, 409 street cleaners 118, 258, 260 see also koprônai street sellers, itinerant 244, 414 tanners 413 teachers 8, 195, 198, 226, 242, 362, 396 Christian 464 civic, private 369, 396 pagan 449 upholsterers 414 virgines (unmarried women) 235, 319, 370n widows 188, 220, 319, 366, 370–71, 438–440, 462 in church 320 rich 439 

LATE ANTIQUE ARCHAEOLOGY Series Editor LUKE LAVAN Late Antique Archaeology is published annually by Brill, based on papers given at the conference series of the same title, which meets annually in London. Its Supplementary Series aims to publish thematic monographs which address life within the Roman Empire or its successor states in the period AD 283–650, as informed by material evidence, supported by other sources. All publication proposals are subject to satisfying the comments of two anonymous referees, managed at the discretion of the editor. We take the unusual route of accepting PhD theses plus examiner’s reports for review. We then produce a potential publication plan for candidates to satisfy, with an idea of the support we can provide. The editorial committee includes Albrecht Berger, Will Bowden, Kimberly Bowes, Averil Cameron, Beatrice Caseau, James Crow, Jitse Dijkstra, Sauro Gelichi, Jean-Pierre Sodini, Bryan Ward-Perkins, Emanuele Vaccaro and Enrico Zanini. Journal abbreviations follow those used by the American Journal of Archaeology, whilst literary sources are abbreviated according to the Oxford Classical Dictionary (3rd ed. Oxford 1999) xxix–liv and when not given here, following A. H. M. Jones The Later Roman Empire (Oxford 1964) vol. 2, 1462–76, then G. W. H. Lampe A Patristic Greek Lexicon (Oxford 1961). For notes for contributors, with contact details, visit: www.lateantiquearchaeology.wordpress.com For submissions and ordering information visit: www.brill.com/laa www.brill.com/laax

PUBLIC SPACE IN THE LATE ANTIQUE CITY VOLUME 2

LATE ANTIQUE ARCHAEOLOGY (SUPPLEMENTARY SERIES) SERIES EDITOR

LUKE LAVAN MANAGING EDITOR

PETER CRAWFORD VOLUME 5/2

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/laax

Bethlehem as a heavenly city, S. Maria Maggiore, Rome, Triumphal Arch, early 430s A.D., drawn by A. Merry 2020.

PUBLIC SPACE IN THE LATE ANTIQUE CITY VOLUME 2: SITES, BUILDINGS, DATES BY

LUKE LAVAN

LEIDEN | BOSTON

Cover illustration: Reconstruction of the Foro della statua eroica, Ostia, A.D. 387 (copyright Will Foster / VLAC team, University of Kent). The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available online at http://catalog.loc.gov LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2020002112

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill-typeface. ISSN 2352-5177 ISBN 978-90-04-41372-6 (hardback, set) ISBN 978-90-04-42382-4 (e-book) ISBN 978-90-04-40428-1 (hardback, volume 1) ISBN 978-90-04-40429-8 (hardback, volume 2) Copyright 2020 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Hes & De Graaf, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Rodopi, Brill Sense, Hotei Publishing, mentis Verlag, Verlag Ferdinand Schöningh and Wilhelm Fink Verlag. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

Contents Introduction 1 Remarks on Dating 1 Dating Reliability 1 Publication Quality Score 3 Sub-Period Terminology 3 Remarks on Phasing 8 Remarks on Motivation 10 Remarks on Content 11 Highlights of the Catalogue 12 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types 15 Note on Ceramic Referencing 15 Bibliography 16 Frequently Abbreviated Works 16 Other Works 17 Checklist 19 Appendix 1: Street Architecture 83 Introductory Note 83 Diocesan Abbreviations 83 Encroachment 84 A1 Churches Built Respecting Street Grids, a Selection 84 A2a Churches Encroaching onto Major Streets 87 A2b Churches Encroaching onto Minor Streets 88 A3 Portico and Sidewalk Encroachment by Benches 90 A4a Ephemeral Building over Roadways 91 A4b Merging of Insulae for Civil and Ecclesiastical Building Campaigns 92 A4c Major Streets Encroached (within Continuing Cities) 95 A5a Shambolic Encroachment / Ruralisation 96 A5b Street Obliteration, within Continuing Settlements, Selected Dated Examples 99 A5c Portico Encroachment, Unstructured 101 A5d Portico Encroachment, Structured 106 A6 Denudation of Minor Routes 110 A7a Minor Streets Encroached before End of 3rd C. (with Dating Given in Summary, as Not Late Antique) 112 A7b Minor Streets Encroached by Public Buildings in Late Antiquity 116 A7c Minor Streets Encroached by Other / Unspecified Structures 119 A8a Major Roads Encroached by Houses 121 A8b Minor Roads Encroached by Houses 122 A9 Fortifications Disrupting Road Systems 130 A10 Systematic Narrowing of Streets, Late Antique 131 A11 Systematic Narrowing of Streets, Post-Antique 133 Street Grids and Street Systems 137 B1 Forts with Street Grids (4th C.) 137 B2 Forts with Axial Colonnaded Streets (Late 3rd–4th C.) 140 B3 Forts with Some Planning (5th–6th C.) 143 B4 Forts with No Planning (5th–6th C.) 144 B5 Bourgades without Street Planning (a Selection) 145

viii B6 Bourgades with Some Planning 146 B7 Urban Street Systems, in Newly-Built Areas 147 Major Streets 170 C1 New Major Streets, Not Colonnaded 170 C2 New Colonnaded Streets, as Part of New Urban Quarters 172 C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters 182 C4 Street Porticoes, New Individual 273 C5 Street Porticoes, Repaired (Excluding Floors Only) 303 C6a Portico Mosaics (Coherent Ornament) 310 C6b Portico Mosaics (Non-Matching Multiple Carpets) 313 C6c Portico Paving, Mosaic, Details of Wider Arrangement Not Known 315 C6d Portico Paving, Other Than Mosaic 316 C7 Sidewalks 320 C8 Levelling 325 C9a Surfacing in Stone Paving (Major Works on Major Roads) 329 C9b Streets Surfacing in Paving (Minor Works on Major Roads) 344 C10a Street Surfacing in Gravel, Pebble, Cobbles, Rubble etc. (Main Streets) 348 C10b Street Surfacing in Beaten Earth and Related Materials, Selected Examples (Major and Minor Streets) 357 C11 Sewers and Drains (Major and Minor Streets) 363 C12 Water Supply (Major and Minor Streets) 370 Plazas 371 D1 Sigma Plazas (as Forecourts Rather Than as Shopping Plazas) 371 D2 Other Small Plazas 374 Porches and Façades 376 E1 Entrance Porches 376 E2 Small Semi-Circular Recessed Façades 391 E3 Porches / Entrances Set on Steps 392 E4 Piered Façades with or without Projecting Columns 395 Street Ornaments 397 F1 ‘Tetrakionia’ 397 F2 ‘Tetrastyla’ 403 F3 Tetrapyla, New Built 406 F4 Tetrapyla, Repair 424 F5 Tetrastyla, Repair 425 F6 Tetrastyla and ‘Cross-Hall Tetrapyla’ inside Forts 425 F7a Arches, New (including Arches Giving onto Fora / Agorai) 427 F7b Arches, Repairs 458 F8a Wall-arches 464 F8b Arches as Part of Fortification Gates 466 F9 Honorific Columns, in Agorai 466 F10 Honorific Columns (Isolated), in Streets or Undetermined Urban Locations 490 F11 Cross Monuments (Some of Which Were on Columns, Others on Obelisks or Piers) 493 G1 Statues on Gates 496 G2 Building Inscriptions on Gate Lintels 498 G3 Gates Decorated with Friezes (Reused) or Other Reused Ornament, a Selection 500 H1 Monumental Fountains, New, on Streets 501 H2 Monumental Fountains on Streets, Repair / Rebuilt (on Streets) 517 H3 Monumental Fountains, Statuary Altered (on Both Streets and Squares) 530

Contents

Contents

H4 Conversion of Monumental Fountains to Other Structures 533 H5 Problems with Urban Water Supply by Fountains 534 H6 Street Fountains 535 H7 Statues in Streets, New 548 Minor Streets 566 J1 Minor Streets Built Anew 566 J2 Staircases within Streets and as Streets 574 J3 Minor Streets, Paving and Surfacing 576 Appendix 2: Fora / Agorai in the 4th–5th c. AD 595 K1a Fora / Agorai, New 595 K1b Round and Oval Plazas, New 618 K2a Comprehensive Restorations of Western Fora 625 K2b Comprehensive Restorations of Eastern Agorai 645 K4a Porticoes on Fora / Agorai: New, Rebuilt and Restored: the West 667 K4b Porticoes on Fora / Agorai, New, Rebuilt and Restored: the East 674 K4c Porticoes Destroyed / Invaded 681 K4d Paving 683 K5 Arches and Entrances 689 K6 Staircases 690 K7a Monumental Fountains, New 691 K7b Monumental Fountains, Repaired 693 K7c Fountains, New and Repaired 696 K8a Horologia 697 K8b Latrines 697 K9 Statues 698 K10 Civil Basilicas: New and Repairs 750 L1 Curiae / Bouleuteria: the West, New and Repaired 750 L2 Curiae / Bouleuteria and Related Buildings: the East, New and Repaired 766 L3 Curiae / Bouleuteria, Disuse, 4th–5th C. 774 M1 Other Government Offices 775 M2 Tribunals 777 M3 Exedrae 784 O1 Shop Functions on Fora / Agorai 784 O2 Market Buildings 785 P1 Temples on Fora: the West 785 Q1 Temples on Agorai: the East 799 R1 Churches on (but Not over) Fora 4th–5th C. AD: the West 805 R2 Churches on (but Not over) Agorai 4th–5th C. AD: the East 805 Appendix 3: Fora / Agorai in the 6th c. and Beyond 806 S1 Rectangular Plazas, New 806 S2 Round Plazas, New 812 S3 Comprehensive Rebuilding of Fora / Agorai 815 S4 Porticoes, New or Rebuilt 826 S5a Paving / Surfacing 835 S5b Arches and Entrances 838 S6 Staircases and Ramps 838 S7a Monumental Fountains, Repairs 839 S7b Fountains and Basins, New 841 S10a Horologia 841 S10b Latrines 842 S11 Statues, New or Repaired 842

ix

x

Contents

S12a Civil Basilica Repairs 844 S12b Curia / Bouleuteria and Other Offices, Repairs, 6th–7th C. 844 S12c Curiae / Bouleuteria etc., Disuse, 6th–7th C. 846 T1a Market Buildings 847 T1b Shop Functions on Fora / Agorai 847 T2 Temples, New and Repaired 847 T3 Temples, Demolished 848 T4 Temples, Converted into Other Uses 849 U1 Churches on, but Not over, Fora / Agorai, 4th–5th C.: the West 850 U2 Churches on but Not over Fora / Agorai, 6th–7th C.: the West 850 U3 Churches on but Not over Fora / Agorai 4th–5th C.: the East 854 U4 Churches on but Not over Fora / Agorai, 6th–7th C.: the East 855 U5 Churches on, but Not over, Agorai, Unspecified Date in Late Antiquity 855 V1 Churches Built over Fora / Agorai, the West (Dated) 857 V2 Churches Built over Fora / Agorai, the East (Dated) 860 V3 Churches Built over Fora / Agorai, the East (Undated) 862 V4a Degradation and Disuse of Fora / Agorai in the West, Late 3rd–4th C. 863 V4b Degradation and Disuse of Fora / Agorai in the West, 5th C. 868 V4c Degradation and Disuse in the West, 6th C. 883 V4d Degradation and Disuse in the West, 7th C. 887 V4e Degradation and Disuse in the West, Undated within Late Antiquity 887 V5a Degradation and Disuse in the East, 3rd–4th C. 888 V5b Degradation and Disuse in the East, 5th C. 890 V5c Degradation and Disuse in the East, 6th C. 893 V5d Degradation and Disuse in the East, 7th–8th C. 897 V5e Degradation and Disuse in the East, Undated within Late Antiquity 900 Appendix 4: Market Buildings and Shops 902 W1 Market Buildings, New / Comprehensively Rebuilt 902 W2 Market Buildings, Repaired (All Types) 911 W3 Market Buildings, Continuity of Use 916 W4 Market Buildings, Disuse (All Types) 916 X1a Civil Basilicas on Fora / Agorai: the West, New or Repaired 917 X1b Civil Basilicas on Fora / Agorai: the East, New or Repaired 935 X1c Other Basilicas Restored in the East, Position Uncertain 943 X1d Civil Basilicas: Disuse / Demolition 944 X2 Sigma Plazas (Semi-Circular Exedras with Ranges) 948 Y1 Shops on Fora / Agorai: the West, New and Repaired 957 Y2 Shops on Fora / Agorai: the East, New 960 Y3 Shops on Fora / Agorai: the East, Repaired 967 Y4 Shops Built as Part of New Streets, New 968 Y5 Shops on Pre-existing Streets, New 975 Y6 Shops on Streets, Repaired 988 Y7 Shops Built over or within Existing Structures 992 Y8 Shops in Pseudo-Market Buildings 995 Y9 Shops Demolished 998 Z1 Industrial Encroachment in City Centres: 4th and 5th C. 998 Z2 Industrial Encroachment in City Centres: 6th–mid 7th C. 999 Z3 Industrial Encroachment in City Centres: Early Islamic Near East 1001 Index 1003

Introduction Remarks on Dating It is essential to read this introduction before consulting the entries presented in these appendices, without which they will make little sense. I would not advise quoting dates given here without noting the principles on which they depend, as I often express reservations, or offer dates provisionally. Over the past few years, I have attempted to date building work from Late Antiquity using a standardised methodology. Unfortunately, archaeologists and historians use vastly different approaches in dating building works on their sites: some of which are very carefully thought out, but others of which are very poorly conceived. Whilst working on this book, I was unnerved to find that a good number of synthetic scholars, writing about a theme, or about the late antique city as a whole, simply copied out dates given by archaeologists or epigraphers for buildings without asking what these dates were based upon, and without asking how reliable this dating was. Furthermore, I also found a tendency toward special pleading amongst archaeologists, when attempting to date sites that they themselves had excavated, by using dating principles that they might otherwise disavow on other sites. Such tendencies are understandable, as they are born of frustration at the limits of evidence. However, it is difficult to embrace academic deference or special pleading in a wide-ranging comparative study, without creating obvious contradictions. Thus, I began an academic journey, in which I tried to devise a framework from which one might evaluate the dates given by different scholars, so as not to mix good apples with bad. I hoped to produce dates based on my own judgment following consistent principles, from evaluating the evidence provided by reports and site observations. All that was needed, I thought, was to develop consistent rules based on best practice and apply them. I could produce a hierarchy of dating quality, alongside a second score indicating the degree of publication of the dating evidence. Thus, I came up with a 10 point quality scheme for evidence, beginning with absolute scientific methods such as radiocarbon (given the highest reliability of 10), and ending with architectural and artistic style (given lowest reliability of 1). In between, came contextual dating based on ceramics and coins, or ‘catch-all’ theories such as earthquakes. To this 10 point scheme I had to add two types of evidence that are not comparable with others: (i) historical texts / inscriptions out of context (‘class x’) and (ii) background

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004423824_014

regional development (‘class z’), where sudden changes are visible. The last of these criteria is perhaps the weakest, as it creates an element of circularity, but it is necessary to evoke in many cases. I do not normally make use of historical events such as ‘the Theodosian assault on the temples’. An exception is the fall of Carthage in 698 and the transfer of the city’s population to Tunis. This does seem to have some reality in the stratigraphy of the city, marking an end to large-scale occupation, even if there was some subsequent building. When there is conflict or competition between evidential types, numbered factors should normally take precedence over factors from class x and z. Such are the difficulties of working out a provisional dating for monuments from complex strands of information. Dating Reliability (new codes) Cs10 Scientific (radiocarbon, archaeomagnetism, thermoluminesence etc.) Cs9 Contextual ceramics Cs8 Contextual coins Cs8x Contextual, other objects Cs7 TPQ from ceramics / coins / inscription Cs6 TAQ / Absolute from inscription in situ or almost in situ. For epigrams of statue bases, a text is in situ without wider context Cs5 Catch-all masonry theory, e.g. mortar, use of specific spolia, lack of respect for aesthetics of design (giving date after 250) Cs4 Re-used material, general presence (giving date after 250) Cs3 Associative (finds, inscriptions, phase of development) Cs2 Catch-all other (e.g. earthquake, water). I accept earthquakes only with clear seismic damage or counter-measures Cs1 Architectural and artistic style, relying on welldated parallels 0 No evidence cited x Historical text / inscription not in situ (i.e. archaeological context not known at all) / depiction like Madaba map z Background patterns, of regional development or site development I do not intend to give a full critique of all types of argument used here, nor an explanation of archaeological dating (TPQ, TAQ etc.) from first principles. That belongs in another place, but some explanation of what

2 the above categories mean is warranted. Thus, ‘contextual ceramic dating’ refers to the habit of dating a layer, usually a dumped deposit of ‘fill’, by the types of pottery found within it. This has become something of an art, with specialists now producing absolute deposition dates with ‘levels of confidence’, based on the number and chronological diversity of the minimum number of individual vessels in a layer. Such high-quality dates usually involve rich deposits with very large numbers of sherds, often a deliberate dump of ‘fill’ derived from a municipal rubbish tip, thrown down to level-up a surface. The study of ceramics found inside such layers can suggest a building date for a structure in the 25 years or so after the start date of the last diagnostic piece of ceramic. This is not a fail-safe method: sometimes much older fill is redeposited, betrayed by the small size of ceramic fragments inside. Yet, it seems, on balance, that contextual ceramic dating is the most reliable method we have. However, the reality of late antique urban archaeology is that only a small minority of building works can be dated by these methods, mainly in sites dug in Spain, southern Gaul, northern Italy, and the UK in the last 30 years or so. Elsewhere, excavated deposits are a lot more modest, producing perhaps only two or three diagnostic pieces, perhaps due to difficulties in classifying regional ceramics. My reaction, to such lamentable layers, has been ‘generous’: I calculate rough contextual dates from fill deposits with as few as only two finds of similar date. I take the date for building operations as falling in the 25 year period after the start date of the last find (even if it is only one of two). In the case of only one find, I only allow it to provide a terminus post quem (TPQ, a start date) for the deposit concerned and the building work that followed. This is very poor practice, in terms of contemporary archaeology, and is likely to lead to some dates being older than they should be. Yet, in the absence of rich ceramic contexts it is a method that does need to be used in much of the Mediterranean. It is also somewhat better than many of the dating theories currently in widespread practice. Indeed, throughout this study, I will often resort to dating methods that academics currently excavating would not wish to rely on, such as earthquakes, spolia events, and other ‘catch-all’ dating theories. In my defence, I would note that these uncertain methods have been classified with a low level of confidence. They are used because we have nothing else and are necessarily provisional. Where anomalies occur, in my synthetic discussion of certain monuments, I will try to point this out, and qualify my use of dates. In future fieldwork, I would of course prefer to ditch the bad methods but my need to keep using old reports

Introduction

for old sites means that I cannot escape from them so quickly. My intention to rank the dating evidence from different sites in a hierarchical order has turned out to be a little naïve. It is possible to do this on some occasions, but often it is not. We should, of course, prefer scientific dates or contextual ceramics to theories on artistic style or ‘catch-all’ earthquake scenarios. Such catastrophes tend to be used to date a whole series of building works, after a presumed seismic event. This is bad practice when it is the only argument used to date buildings. Yet, very often, one finds that a date given for a construction depends on multiple strands of evidence. In consequence, I have been obliged to list not one but several numbered classes of dating, for individual entries. Some attempt can be made to sort these into a hierarchical list for each instance of building, according to the contribution they have made towards the date, with the most important first, beginning with the TPQ and moving to TAQ. I have tried to do this, but it is not always possible, and the interrelation of adjacent buildings can create too much complexity. Ockham’s Razor demands that we use a minimum number of dating methods to be credible rather than all that we might use. Thus, associative dating derived from adjacent buildings should sometimes be discarded when stronger sources are used. Similarly, types of dating passed on to another structure via phase of development are not listed alongside those directly connected to a structure, in my appendices. Multiple strands of evidence can on occasion suggest slightly different dates, due to the imprecisions on which they depend. But such cases are not common in this catalogue. Thus, there is no easy mathematical formula for deciding the reliability of a date based on several strands of evidence. One can get some idea of dating reliability from my number ranking, but it cannot be used to make a strict hierarchy. In truth, the dating methodologies which scholars have used are often not those they would have chosen. Rough excavators have dated their sites roughly, but very good excavators have often found themselves confronted with poor stratigraphy: here they simply could not use the methods which they championed. Dumped fills were sometimes redeposited from very old levels; occupation layers might be absent; archaeomagnetic or radiocarbon dates might have generated very wide ranges. Therefore, my hierarchy of dating reliability does not equate with a hierarchy of excavation quality. Its function is to describe the quality of dating available, rather than to say that one team is better than another. I do, however, congratulate some teams who have produced ‘exemplary’ dates, and commiserate with other teams

3

Introduction

whose dates are ‘poor’. This is often from no fault of their own. I would like to hope that my listings might inspire reflection amongst scholars as to what constitutes best practice for the future. There is also perhaps a case to be made that authorities such as the Turkish Ministry of Culture might require minimum standards for annual field reports in the way dates are provided for building phases. This would greatly improve the value of excavations carried out, which otherwise will remain very uneven in quality. Similarly, my publication score (of 0 to 3) is not simply a judgment on an excavation’s printed achievement, but rather a judgment on the availability of the evidence through publication, and our ability to critique it. I have given a ‘3/3’ score to sites who have used very bad dating criteria, just because it is clear what their reasoning is, whereas teams using ceramics who refer to ‘5th c. pottery’ can only achieve ‘2/3’, as they do not make explicit the wares they have seen. Those who simply allude to ‘5th c. artefacts’ can only receive a score of ‘1/3’. Publication Quality Score 0 No basis 1 Phases described 2 Dating basis alluded to: e.g. “5th c. pottery” 3 Dating basis described: e.g. ceramics / coins / scientific date / inscription A ‘dating range’ is used for all building events, except when precise years are known, deriving from textual or epigraphic sources. This ‘range’ provides the earliest and latest likely date for building work concerned. I have also calculated a mid-point, between the two dating termini. This range is often stupidly precise, but it is simply done so as to permit statistical analysis, should that prove useful. Some of the odder ranges derive from the fact that I take ‘late 4th c.’ to mean 387.5 to 400 and ‘early 5th c.’ to mean 400–412.5. These are definitions I have embraced in order to retain consistency, although archaeologists have never agreed on these matters. Similarly, ‘later 4th c.’ and ‘earlier 5th c.’ mean 350–400 and 400–450 in this study. Other dates do not use ranges but are simple dates. Thus, the Diocletianic East Rostra in the Forum Romanum is given as dating to ‘303’, based on its 5 columnar monuments, which echo those on the West Rostra, dated by inscriptions to this year. This does not mean that I really believe that the monument was built in 303, rather than say 301 or 302. However, it is a date based on specific information, calculated on specific principles. These are principles which can be made explicit and argued about, instead of relying on deference towards site directors or great scholars, the reputation of whom sometimes shelters published dating from fair criticism.

Sub-Period Terminology Time

Range

Mid-point

Early / Beg. First quarter Second quarter Third quarter Final quarter Late / End Earlier Later

0–12.5 0–25 25–50 50–75 75–100 87.5–100 0–50 50–100

6.25 12.5 37.5 62.5 87.5 93.75 25 75

As far as possible, I have also tried to move away from deference towards specialists in assessing dates. Thus, I have tried to describe why epigraphic dates are offered (based on consular dating, letter style, or whatever) and to provide well-dated parallels for stylistic dates. In assessing artistic or architectural style, I prefer to make reference to prestigious monuments (e.g. Hagia Sophia) from which one could expect innovation to pass, rather than vice versa (with a bracket of 25 years after the completion of the inspirational monument to the derivative one). In the case of artistic parallels with lesser monuments, it is not always possible to know which came first, the dated parallel or the target, so one has to accept a loose associative date in these cases. I hoped that in ceramic studies I might achieve greatest clarity. However, these efforts have ended in failure for the most refined pottery reports. Some dates now offered by ceramicists working in Spain or southern Gaul are so sophisticated as to defy scrutiny from outside, something that represents a major professional problem. Rather than use reference books like Hayes’ Late Roman Pottery which propose universal circulation dates for ceramic types, these scholars offer their own dates for sherds based on their local experience of the differential diffusion of wares, or sometimes of their experience of the balance of coarse wares and other pottery types across a city (not all of which comes from published reports). I am worried that such practices (without rigorous and accessible documentation) herald a new era of chronological obscurantism. However, I do greatly admire the expertise that these professionals have. Thus, I have regretfully embraced professional deference when there are differences between ceramic reference manuals and the dates offered in very sophisticated reports by leading ceramicists. Occasionally, I have reluctantly abandoned my 25 year date ranges if such authors have offered broader ranges for contextual dates. In verifying ceramic dates, I have consulted Hayes’ Late Roman Pottery and its supplement, alongside the Atlante,

4

Introduction

plus the Études of Bonifay and a few ceramic websites (notably RADR from Southampton) in trying to check the dates offered for ceramics.1 This has been a worthwhile process, as errors have come to light, and I have been given a valuable window into the world of ceramic dating. I have, furthermore, consulted two eminent ceramicists, Emanuele Vaccaro and Dominique Pieri, who have read my text but are not responsible for its errors. Of course, ceramic dating does change, and we do not yet know the ceramics of Late Antiquity as well as we do those of the Early Imperial period. But enormous progress has been made as a result of the publication of Hayes’ work and in the forty years or so since. We should not be tempted to doubt the value of ceramic dating, when faced with revisions and new classifications, which render initial work redundant. This process is necessary. Over time, ceramic dating does become more reliable, just as snow only starts to settle after the first flakes have dissolved on warm pavements. Ceramic dating should certainly be taken as seriously, or more seriously, than dating for building work derived from texts. The mépris of an older generation of textual scholars for such work was a gross misjudgment. Today, a good historian needs to know about pots. For a non-specialist like myself, best practice in ceramic dating must still rest on the quotation of standard works, which propose empire-wide or regional circulation dates. These will be updated and replaced from time to time, when I will recheck my dates. But as someone not working in ceramics, I must limit my involvement, and avoid debates in progress. Thus, in terms of reference literature relating to ceramics or other artefacts, I only rarely give full publication details, citing just the established name of the ceramic ware or the type of brooch etc. It seems reasonable to do this in places where ceramic types are well-recognised or at least ‘locally’ understood (as at Ephesus). Elsewhere, where scholars have been unwilling or unable to give specific type names to ceramics found in excavation sequences, I often quote the text of their ceramic descriptions. I should also point out that I rarely give a full description of the wares found in rich deposits. Rather, I confine myself to listing the latest diagnostic wares, rather than include a description of indefinite coarsewares or residual materials. Thus, my catalogue entries will be of more use to scholars of late antique building than those wishing to contrast different ceramic assemblages. Dating derived from coins takes a number of forms. Often coins provide a precise TPQ for a deposit when

there is little else available. However, contextual dating derived from coins is a little more complex. Superficially, it should work on the same basis as ceramic dating, when one is dating a dumped fill: that is, the date of the context is placed within the 25 years after the start date of the last coin. However, some coins relate to emperors who outlasted 25 years. In most cases, the number of extra years is not significant enough to merit changing the rules: Constantine lasted 30 years, Honorius 28, Valentinian III 30, Anastasius 27, and Heraclius 30. Furthermore, in many cases, coin types actually have shorter dates than the full reigns of emperors. There is only really a problem for Theodosius II (48 years) and Justinian (38 years). In theory, one should include the full dates for these emperors within the dating range. In reality, this sort of ambiguity hardly ever occurs. In reviewing my appendices, I have found only one case where it is a potential problem: for the construction date of the church built in the forum at Iol Caesarea. The collapse date for the basilica at Complutum might be a second candidate, once the pottery is published in full. Another issue is that small numbers of coins might produce a misleading date: coins were more robust than ceramics in daily use, and so lasted longer, likely being thrown away later, in normal circumstances. For this reason, contextual dates derived from coins are given a lesser reliability ranking than those based on ceramics, and contextual dates based only on two coins should be regarded with a high degree of scepticism. Coins are also deposited because of loss occurring as part of commercial transactions or votive practices, meaning that one should always be alert to the possibility that they might reflect use and have gradually accumulated in or have been stamped into a layer, rather than have been deposited along with a single batch of rubbish. Coin hoards are a little more problematic. As deposits of savings, they likely represent a collection assembled over a relatively short period, reflecting coins in use. The last coin dates the hoard, but in the presence of many coins, one may not need a 25 year period to place the deposition in—it might be much shorter. The dating of an occupation via associative finds of coins is even more difficult. The median circulation life for coins in hoards seems to be 50 years, though some do last up to 250 years.2 Therefore, one can envisage that occupation might have continued up to 50 years beyond the last coin find. It is also prudent to envisage the start of occupation on a site as coinciding with the first peak in a coin assemblage, rather than the first coin, for the same

1  Hayes Late Roman Pottery; Hayes supplement; Atlante; Études of Bonifay. Ceramic websites (notably RADR from Southampton, Potsherd.net, Lattara).

2  Waner and Safrai (2001) 305–36, supported by DeRose Evans (2013) 137–56, who notes coins of 50 to 100 years old being in circulation in hoards of early 5th c. date.

Introduction

reasons: old coins were always present. Again, one might wish to use a 25 year period, in which to date the start, or one might be able to be more precise. But it seems to be an over-reaction to dismiss coins entirely. They do provide valuable indicators, sometimes more precise than those which ceramics can offer. They are especially powerful when used in association with other types of dating evidence, but contextual coin dating alone still deserves its 3rd placed ranking, above catch-all theories, masonry styles, and dating based on architecture or art. The public use of crosses is an important chronological indicator, as it is surprisingly late, generally dating from after 400, whereas earlier the Chi-Rho was predominant. A simple cross without splayed ends likely dates from 407 onwards, based on depictions from the catacombs. Here, splayed ends come in around 482, according to an analysis of C. Thomas. He also notes that in any case crosses normally appear around AD 400 as a “small initial symbol, a subsidiary motif and a structural element in decoration … mainly on metalwork and ceramics”.3 For the appearance of crosses at the start of epigraphic texts, I was able to search for ‘cross’ on inscribed statue bases of the LSA database: http://laststatues.classics.ox.ac.uk/database/browse.php. The earliest crosses positioned at the start of inscriptions are: LSA-224 (AD 405–14) at Aphrodisias (Caria); LSA-240 (AD 405–410) at Hypaipa (Lydia); LSA-2836 Eudoxia, empress at Scythopolis (Palaestina II) (AD 395–404, likely 400–404). A discussion of this symbol can be found under LSA-224: it seems that a few families with governors were setting this trend in the first decade of the 5th c. We can set aside LSA-668 and 185 as these do not seem to have had their crosses inscribed at the same time as the main inscriptions. Furthermore, LSA-1112 (AD 341) ‘Constans emperor at Ulpia Augusta Traiana (Thracia)’ has a cross at the end of the inscription, and so seems an eccentric isolated early example, not part of the main trend. Unfortunately, the history of cross-motifs in ceramics is not as clear cut as one might hope. In African Red Slip (ARS) and Late Roman C (LRC), as studied by Hayes in LRP, there is no clear evolution in cross types. Hayes’ commentary on motifs in LRC (p. 348) at least tells us that we have double-ribbed crosses with splayed ends from shortly after the mid-5th c., but does not establish that straight crosses come earlier. So, when crosses are introduced to LRC, it appears that the splayed motif was 3  Cross with splayed ends in catacombs from ca. AD 482: Thomas (1981) 86 annotates information from De Rossi (1861). He also notes that in any case crosses normally appear around AD 400 as a “small initial symbol, a subsidiary motif and a structural element in decoration … mainly on metalwork and ceramics”. Crosses in metalwork and ceramics ca. AD 400: Thomas (1981) 91.

5 already present and thus the ceramic typology does not provide a basis to refine or challenge the typology suggested above. In terms of ARS, crosses appear ca. 400 with stamps no. 313, 314 and 321 on Hayes forms / derivatives forms of 96–97, with flared rather than splayed ends, with jewels. Straight ends appear on stamps 319 on form 99 of 487.5–550 and on stamps of 335 and 336 on form 104 of 487.5–650. Then flared and straight ends co-exist for crosses until 650 at the earliest. I derived this information from LRP pp. 277–281, combining it with my revised dates given for pottery types in my list of ceramics. Dates derived from historical texts depend on a great number of factors, far more than I can manage to consider. Thus, I do not discuss the sources behind regnal dates of emperors, consuls, prominent bishops, or the dates of major historical events such as the battle of Adrianople. I have sought to understand the basis for dating less well-known events and personalities. In the case of controversies over the date of authorship of a text, such as on the date of Palladas, I have tried to establish the evidence available. Otherwise, I adopt conservative positions, nearly always deferring to the edition I am using. Usually the dates of laws can be fairly easily established from the consuls mentioned, but letter collections remain problematic, being dated based on sequences of events contained in different letters, with a few external markers. Here, I simply follow the date provided by the editor or translator. In the case of Theophanes and a few other problematic chronicles, I defer to recent annotated editions which can be regarded as authoritative. Equally, I have not checked the sources for many Early Imperial building phases that I discuss, whether they are textual or archaeological: I feel this is just one more job than I can manage, and the results of such scrutiny are unlikely to change the broader picture that I seek to paint. Dating based on epigraphy can seem more straightforward, but, in reality, it is not. Relatively few inscriptions provide specific years for acts of building. A large number can be dated based on the regnal dates of emperors, and often of governors, who can be attested as serving in particular years. However, it becomes more difficult when one moves away from major magistracies into less-known provinces. Before long, one finds, especially in the East, a scholarly tendency to develop very elaborate arguments to fill gaps in our knowledge of inscriptions, where there is really little certainty. This is necessary, but theories about the use of language or the social diffusion of honorific ranks are bound to be less stable than consular dates or the indiction numbers of the imperial tax cycle. Charlotte Roueché has highlighted the risk of such subtle approaches on her work

6 in Asia Minor, e.g. in dating an acclamatory inscription from Ephesus.4 The reality is that simple dating arguments are usually stronger than complex ones, when dealing with a single piece of evidence. Academic deference to high priests of epigraphy should be best avoided, no matter how much we enjoy reading their works. Many epigraphic reports, which base dating on letter styles or local particularities, still fail to provide adequate explanation of the criteria they are using. There is something of professional smoke-screen: rather than have dating techniques set out in a table, we are invited to admire the culture and experience of the epigraphic professional, whose reasoning we can respect but not easily access. Often, we have little choice but to follow them, with a caveat. Once a textual or epigraphic date has been calculated, it is not a straightforward matter to apply it to a building known since Antiquity or discovered by archaeology, even when an inscription is found in situ. There are examples where an inscription actually relates to a repair, rather than a primary build, as on the Column of Phocas in Rome, where there are three late antique phases, not one. Otherwise, a block might be found associated with a structure, without any guarantee that it belonged there. Thus, we struggle to place an inscription naming a ‘Forum of Theodosius’ at Ephesus, or another naming a ‘Forum of Arcadius’ at Side. Neither inscription provides a definite record of building work on a specific plaza. Nevertheless, it is still fair practice to assume that a textual or epigraphic record of work does relate to construction activity on an associated building, unless physical evidence suggests otherwise. But when the physical record clashes with an inscription, as on the ‘Rostra Vandalica’ of the Forum Romanum, the two types of evidence should be separated. Elsewhere, an inscription remains a default basis for dating building work with which it is associated by archaeology. Thus, in the south portico of the agora of Aphrodisias, I am prepared to accept that an inscription on a column provides a date for the monument (which does include reused material), even though it would have been better to have waited for stratigraphic indications, from contextual ceramics and so forth: the portico might have been rebuilt more than once within Late Antiquity. I remain concerned that in Africa, on so many occasions, inscriptions date building work on structures that have not been investigated archaeologically, beyond a photographic survey. Recent work on the Arch of Constantine shows how assumptions based on epigraphy can be challenged, once serious interdisciplinary work begins. 4  Subtle arguments: Roueché (2007) 184–85, and also in oral versions of this same paper.

Introduction

Some dates must remain open: ‘undated’ or ‘pending’ (if there is a reasonable hope of publications resolving matters). ‘Undated’ is most often used for the Near East, to mean a date spanning two or more major chronological periods. Here, there is no obvious cut-off point for investment in street monuments. There was still some interest from under Early Islamic rule in maintaining the classical style urban fabric. Elsewhere, the end of Roman rule, or the end of Roman supremacy, was met by an abrupt end in civic public building (excluding fortification). Such ruptures allow us to suggest common regional chronologies. Admittedly, it is mechanistic to use ca. 400 as the end of Roman Britain, or 614 as the last date for civic secular public building in Asia Minor. But, so far, these dates seem to represent a reasonable generalisation. It is only in Africa where regional patterns seem uncertain. The Vandal conquest of 429–39 seems to mark the end of civic public building, at least in terms of streets and public squares. However, small scale works on paving and water pipes may have continued, as they might have done in Britain. Furthermore, in most places in Africa, the real ‘end’ of building works seems to come 30 or more years earlier. Finally, we do not yet know enough about the cities of the Early Islamic Maghreb to be sure that they did not reintroduce buildings in the Roman style. Recent re-evaluations from Canadian excavations at Carthage show this is possible, even if that city does seem to have come to an end in 698. I use such fixed end dates under the category ‘regional development’, often because there is little else to use and current evidence suggests they make sense. ‘Aesthetic disjuncture’ or visible reused material / ‘spolia’ generally seem to appear in building work from around AD 250. However, this is something of an intellectual construct. Reuse does occur earlier, especially in large-scale structures, notably in Greece, but in my experience its presence within Roman period buildings really starts in earnest in the mid-3rd c. It is at this point that reused material really starts to be visible in the facing of walls (whether or not they were then decorated). There are Early Imperial examples of visible reuse, but these are rare and often confined to blocks derived from the same structure. They do not invalidate my general observation about spolia. More problematic are examples of 4th c. reuse that are relatively careful or where reuse has been successfully disguised. Here, we are not able, in the absence of an aesthetic disjuncture, to suggest a late antique date. We do, however, need regional spolia chronologies to be established through independent dating, a project to which I hope to return. Only in the case of Athens, where spolia contexts are well-documented, do I suggest a variant date for the beginning of spoliation. This is slightly later than the

Introduction

date of AD 250 used elsewhere in this study. ‘Aesthetic disjuncture’ is even less-well studied in terms of its chronology. I have adopted this category after seeing so many classical archaeologists frown when describing the re-arrangement of civic public monuments in Late Antiquity, in a manner inappropriate to classical symmetry, harmony of ornament, or architectural planning. Along with spolia, ‘aesthetic disjuncture’ must remain a dating method with a relatively low level of confidence, in the absence of independent chronological checks. Dating arguments based on ‘phase of development’ on site will be examined in detail below, under ‘phasing’. For now: these arguments often relate to different buildings given the same date on account of shared heights, or features within a single complex being linked together by theories of local site development (typically related to function). Sometimes, phase of development refers to a habit of dating individual features with no dating within a wider sequence. These arguments might not initially be easy to spot in my gazetteer entries, but should become clear if one thinks through the logic of dating for each case. They are very common arguments in archaeological reports for some periods (especially on rural sites), where small features have to be organised into some sort of connected sequence without direct stratigraphic relationships. It is worth noting, as an aside, that in the absence of other dating indicators, I very occasionally assume arbitrary dates for phases of 25 years or more in length (connected to the dating of earlier or later phases), to account for radical changes in design or purpose. Whilst sudden changes in plan can occur quickly, it seems reasonable to offer a provisional chronology on the premise that major changes in intention correlate with generation changes, in which one cycle of investment in masonry building work is expected to see a return before another can be contemplated by younger limbs, as far as civic if not imperial efforts were concerned. This weak proposition, rarely used here, is one reminder, amongst many, why ‘phase of development’ dating holds a relatively low rank of Cs3 in my order of reliability. Related to phase of development arguments is a further class of argument on ‘site development’ that is given a ‘z’. This refers to patterns of urban development seen generally across a site which cannot be structurally connected to the building that is being dated, by observation or hypothesis. As such, it is not a strong type of dating argument, and is most closely related to patterns of regional development, which is why it is classified together with them. Both risk circular reasoning. Some aspects of contextual dates deserve further comment. I give a different value to finds from ‘use deposits’, such as silts accumulating on roads, or gradual

7 ditch or sewer fills, when compared with foundation ‘fill deposits’, where we have a layer deliberately dumped in order to prepare a surface. Finds from ‘use deposits’ are likely to date a layer directly, with the start date of the latest finds indicating the end of occupation, with accuracy depending on how many finds there are. In contrast, those from redeposited fills may have laid a while elsewhere (such as on a rubbish tip), meaning that there might be a gap of up to 25 years between the start date of the last datable ceramic and the actual date of construction of the building on top. When calculating 25 year contextual dates from coins, I choose a period of 25 years after the start date of the last coin, in the same way as I do for ceramics. Of course, a large number of coins might suggest a hoard, as a special deposit, dating from a particular year or group of years. On occasion, the basis for a ceramic date is not entirely clear. Thus, I accept the whole ceramic date range for layers which are dated using classes of ‘Sagalassos Red Slip’, as we are not told of the names of individual forms, and so cannot easily apply the normal contextual rules. We just have to accept the dates as given. A similar problem relates to the dates for the building of a structure known from historical sources. Sometimes, Roman builders were very fast, completing enormous structures in a few years. But equally, a decade or more might elapse. To simplify matters, I take the completion or inauguration date given in the literary or epigraphic sources as the date for the building work. This creates an obvious difference with the dates calculated from other sources. More controversially, I take the date of a foundation fill as indicating a 25 year timeframe for the building set above it, although the building might also have taken years to complete. This is a simplification, but a necessary one, as this book is about broad long-term patterns. Within this study, Late Antiquity begins in AD 284, when the emperor Diocletian came to power. Sites dating to before this time were not deliberately investigated, although they can be mentioned in a ‘discounted’ group at the end of each section. However, when spolia or aesthetic disjuncture is concerned, I allow sites dating to after AD 250 to be included, when they have a date range that extends as far as 284, even if their ‘mid-point’ falls prior to this year. My use of the dating term ‘Early Imperial’ is somewhat lazy. The period from the supremacy of Augustus at Actium in 31 BC until the accession of Diocletian in 284, is described as ‘Early Imperial’, whereas the Republican / Hellenistic period is a single period of time, with two geographical zones, which precedes it. I appreciate that many people, especially historians, would like to use ‘Middle Imperial’ to describe the Antonine and Severan Age, but this is not especially useful in terms of urban

8 history. I occasionally slip into ‘Late Roman’ when some reference is intended to cities within imperial boundaries, excluding the Germanic successor states that also made up Late Antiquity. Despite strong cultural continuity in the Near East, I am not interested in terming any part of the Umayyad period as ‘late antique’, although I do include its tetrakionia, for reference purposes, within my ‘discounted’ sections. Scholars of the 4th to 6th c. do need to consider the afterglow of Roman urbanism in the Islamic East, but there is as much that is new, justifying my decision to separate it chronologically from Late Antiquity, with an end date for our period at AD 650. Other minor points: (i) square brackets indicate my own aside on a matter, to distinguish it from the sense of the text or report I am citing, except when used within quotations of inscriptions, where the usual meanings apply; (ii) two elements rebuilt together on a monumental street count as a single ‘rebuilding’ of a major street; (iii) my dates for Sagalassos Red Slip ware come from Poblome, Willet, Fırat, Martens and Bes (2013) 147 table 7.1; (iv) names of ceramic forms can be decoded from Atlante or Bonifay, where concordances and primary publications are provided. Remarks on Phasing Although these gazetteers were originally designed to reach a proper understanding of dating, it soon became obvious that my comments also extended to a critique of phasing. Unfortunately, there is even less consistency in practice over how to arrive at building phases than there is over the principles of archaeological dating. This is not to say that there are any real disagreements. Indeed, there is a great deal of consensus. However, there are a variety of local assumptions, transmitted mainly by word of mouth, and which are rarely taught: we lack a manual on the discipline of ‘Roman Building’ rather than ‘Roman Architecture’, beyond that of J.-P. Adam, which explains how buildings were made, rather than how to identify construction phases, let alone combine them with soil phases.5 Synthetic works on sites or historical themes usually fail to challenge site phasing, repeating it as if it were self-evident. Furthermore, site excavators may have produced their record in such a sketchy manner as to preclude any criticism of the assumed phases they have arrived at. This is a problem that affects all periods of classical archaeology, where different phases of construction are sometimes accidentally amalgamated, but it is a particular problem in late antique archaeology. When archaeologists see reused material, or perhaps an 5  Adam (1984).

Introduction

obvious aesthetic disjuncture, they are quick to recognise ‘a late antique rebuilding’. But they almost universally tend to regard this rebuilding as being of a single phase, as if 350 years of late antique urban occupation only required one half-hearted ‘programme of renewal’, as part of a nostalgic reference to conservative architectural forms. In reality, late antique secular buildings often exhibit great complexity in their phasing: I confine my comments here and in my gazetteer to phases of construction rather than phases of occupation. This complexity is something well-recognised in western Europe, where myriad repavings and rebuildings are detected, even though only fragmentary floors or robbing trenches survive. But in the hurriedly-documented world of East Mediterranean excavations, such nuances are rarely detected. Added to this, there has perhaps been a certain disdain about late antique building beyond churches, so that little serious recording has been undertaken on streets and shops, even at Ephesus. Yet, even churches are now revealing multiple late antique phases, where previously few were suspected, as the work of my colleague Nikos Karydis is making clear. But the neglect of phasing is much more obvious in relation to secular public building, as I hope that my appendices show. As a result, this gazetteer is not really a summary of phases but represents my appreciation of them, with some critical thoughts added. At Sagalassos, this has amounted to a revision of some phases: seeing two or three late phases where report authors have seen one. Elsewhere, the phasing which I suggest is entirely new: at Ephesus, my phasing represents the first account of the macrophasing of the streets and their porticoes between the theatre and the upper agora. In both cases, the result of recognising additional phases is to have substantially changed our view of urban development in the 5th to 6th c. or in the 6th to 7th c. To some, my re-evaluation of their phasing will seem infuriating, especially when it relies on a critique of published reports without access to a site archive. To others, it might seem unsporting of me to suggest alternative theories based on tourist photos. However, it is necessary work for this study, as I have tried to adopt consistent methodological principles, rather than to accept the contradictory pronouncements of scholars with different ways of working. Attention to phasing is something that I have felt necessary since undertaking survey and excavation work on late antique features at Ostia. Here, close observation of stratigraphic puzzles preserved in masonry was essential, as almost all the associated soil deposits had been stripped away by the ill-fated activities of archaeologists working under Mussolini, and others who continued these methods after the war. As of

Introduction

2015, this work has identified not just a single phase of late antique repair in the Palaestra but 8, all of which can be set within the mid-3rd to mid-5th c. A more famous site for the recognition of late antique complexity is, perhaps, the Forum of Caesar. Here, thanks to the excellent work of R. Meneghini, A. Corsaro, J. Lipps and others, we have now 4 late phases to fit within the 4th c., and other phases of spoliation and occupation. At last, the fabric of this forum is giving us as many phases as we know of from the literary and epigraphic record. Such progress really does suggest that late antique urban archaeology has a bright future. On many sites, there are classical-looking 5th and 6th c. townscapes to disentangle from the very latest, often chaotic, attempts to patch monuments up. So how rigorous is the account of phasing found in this study? Here, I must admit to only limited success. Much of what I have learned about phasing only came to me during the writing-up process of my project in Ostia, since 2013. Thus, I had done a great deal of work on the enclosed gazetteers before I became aware of the extent of the ‘late antique phasing problem’. Therefore, I cannot promise to have applied the same degree of rigor to the phasing of all the sites presented in the appendices. Furthermore, my ability to organise phasing is restricted by architectural survival, the adequacy and accuracy of plans or drawings, and my own ability to visit sites to make observations, which has been limited mainly to the north and east sides of the Mediterranean. Indeed, the list of places where I have made a significant impact on phasing can probably be limited to Ostia, Rome, Justiniana Prima, Stobi, Philippopolis, Philippi, Constantinople, Ephesus, Sagalassos, Aphrodisias, Scythopolis, and Sepphoris. Elsewhere, my phasing is still largely the ‘received phasing’ published in reports, which I have accepted wholesale, with limited critical comments about anomalies that I felt broke wellaccepted conventions. Although I regret not being more sceptical in the past, I feel that some deference is justified, as an external critique of site phasing is always made from a position of weakness compared to a report author, who has many sources of information that a reader cannot fully access. Again, some reports represent exemplary texts for phasing, whilst others cannot be verified, as they relate to earth layers now removed. Thus, in general terms, I have only attempted to re-phase structures when I noticed something obvious that needed addressing, or when no such phasing existed. My remarks on phasing nearly always relate to well-preserved masonry structures. Finally, it is necessary to explain how phases were arrived at in this study. On a basic level, a stratigraphic sequence of archaeological contexts is arrived at via a

9 physical description of the variant qualities of soil, masonry, organic materials, and their interfaces with each other. Firstly, we ask: what colour / consistency / inclusions etc. has a given layer, and how far does this ‘area of sameness’ extend until we suspect, or can clearly see that a new ‘context’ has begun. Secondly: what aspects of interfaces can be observed between layers, from active ‘cuts’ to air bubbles in mortar, which might help put different layers in a relative chronological sequence, best untangled in a ‘Harris Matrix’. Within masonry, the definition of ‘areas of sameness’ might involve the study of mortar or the contrasting of building techniques, as well as the examination of building materials used within a masonry layer. Differences in weathering can also provide a good indicator of the presence of reused material, within masonry that might not feature decorated blocks. The production of a sequence from masonry is somewhat more complex than with soil. The law of super-position (‘the layer which lies above is later than the one underneath’) is not always so useful with masonry, as walls can have holes made in them without falling down. Nevertheless, there is still much to be learned from the study of masonry interfaces. However, such sequences normally fail to extend over a full site, making it necessary to tie several of them together with quite different reasoning. To move from isolated stratigraphic sequences to building phases, beyond individual lumps of masonry, we require rather different theories. These are often connected to architectural practice, and work by associating different features into coherent buildings and decorative sequences. This might involve recognising a wooden hut from a series of postholes, but can also involve the recognition of a functional arrangement, or a degree of coherence in a large building plan, which could allow a series of walls or piers to be grouped into an architectural unity, envisaged at a single moment. Not all late building elements can be drawn together into groups so easily. The use of varied materials, or a move away from traditional canons of classical planning, might make it difficult to associate all elements together. In these cases, arguments relying on the shared heights of occupation or the shared height of truncations make it possible to bring structures together into phases. In other cases, the immediate proximity of two or three pieces of work in a single area, can justify an associative organisation of many parts into a single phase of development (as around the agora gate / lower agora west portico at Sagalassos). These associations are sometimes recognised by the excavator, sometimes not. Similarly, phasing might depend on a unifying theory of monumental development valid across a site, from ‘renewal’ to ‘repair’ to ‘stripping’, or a ‘catch-all’ theory related to water supply,

10 where no date is known but a phase can be recognised. Such theories are most convincing when ‘grouped’ features are immediately adjacent, as at the Tetrastoon of Aphrodisias, where an opening of the hall of the Theatre Baths onto the side facing the plaza, and by extension the conversion of this hall into cellular shops, is given the same date as the Tetrastoon itself. In my own work, what has been perhaps most decisive in establishing phasing is the nature of spolia use. This relates to both the establishment of context / phase boundaries, and the definition of their relative sequence. On a basic level, I have observed which types of spolia were used where. If large columns of similar quality are used in one section whilst another section contains smaller columns supplemented by pedestals, then the chances are that there has been a phase of rebuilding. Distinctions can also be made about the condition of reused materials or the coherence of the sources they are derived from. Is a wall made out of small fragments of very mixed materials? If so, this suggests it was constructed from a landscape of ruins where few controls existed over the reuse of architectural materials. One might also note the care with which reused materials have been re-employed, how much disguise or jointing was used to fix elements together, or what contrasts in stone type exist, which suggests the mixing of materials from different buildings. Variations of these characteristics between different areas might indicate more than one phase. At the same time, one still needs to be sensitive to reasonable variation within spolia contexts. Some differences might be caused not by time separation but by different gangs, working to slightly different standards, differences which are made more visible by the nature of reused building materials. Thus, it remains important to note any relationships between different areas of variation, to establish a proper sequence. The recognition of sequences within spolia contexts depends in large part on conventional observation of boundaries. Is a boundary built with a straight edge or does it look like it has been cut into? Do slabs come to an uneven edge, rather than being built to anticipate the end of a row? Can one see evidence of mortar layers overlapping or joining up with another feature at the same time? Is there a late decorative sequence or a series of repair clamps which suggest a widespread phase of rebuilding? All of these things need to be looked for. Late antique masonry phasing really is more complex then when one imagines that a single ‘late antique rebuilding’ has taken place. It is only our preoccupation with the canons of classical building and decoration which has caused us to miss this, although architectural reasoning does have a lot to contribute to an understanding of phasing, through principles of construction that few

Introduction

archaeologists can grasp. Much of what has been said here has already been invoked in part in my account of dating methodology. This is entirely natural, as phasing and dating belong best together in a seamless discussion. As a result, many of the arguments for phasing buildings or elements of buildings are included within my dating summaries, at the end of each gazetteer entry, perhaps because buildings under consideration are only dated by association with other elements on a site, not from any characteristic proper to themselves. Thus, it is phasing observations which have supported an ‘associative, phase of development’ or ‘catch-all, masonry’ argument. It is such reasoning which has allowed the dating of so many isolated features at Ostia, denuded of soil or finds which might have supported their dating. These are theories which can be challenged, but which also have a good deal to recommend them. Remarks on Motivation The work I have undertaken in this catalogue has been met with some degree of scepticism by those around me, whether family members, friends, or colleagues, especially those based in Anglo-Saxon universities. Why bother going to such trouble? Yes, individual dates are clarified, but what does all this detail actually change about the big picture? I am obliged to mount a defence. Firstly, I would stress how important it is that excavations actually contribute to models of late antique urban history, rather than occupying an alternative academic universe, where reports pile up but have little impact on popular syntheses. Secondly, I would point out that my work forms a necessary part of a rebalancing of our sources for late antique cities, away from the very partial light provided by legal texts and building inscriptions. Inscriptions really do not provide a good guide to the intensity of building work, across time or between regions. Legal texts are often entirely misleading in the impressions they give. The primary importance of archaeology has been underestimated, and deficiencies in its own practice have caused high-quality building work to be missed in Africa and the Near East. Thirdly, I would point to a picture of greater late antique complexity, and, of unexpected nuances, which comes from engaging with archaeological evidence. Regional differences in the 4th c. now appear far less marked. There are regions, such as northern Gaul or Raetia, that undergo radical change in the 3rd c., but most areas of the empire saw a similar level of interest in maintaining streets and public squares in this period. Repairs extended to lesser cities, whether in Africa or Britain. Later building work, while far more circumscribed, has been underestimated:

11

Introduction

there is more building after 550 than we thought, which supports a more positive view of the time after Justinian and under the Umayyads in the Near East. I should also set out my personal interests in writing these catalogues, in addition to those set out in the introduction. I had, until recently, a career aim to improve methodology in late antique archaeology, reflecting a somewhat optimistic tradition of British archaeological practice, in awe of science not aesthetics, which is always looking for innovation. Initially, I hoped to do this in the form of fieldwork exemplars, applying methods current in UK archaeology to Mediterranean sites, which lagged behind in terms of technique. But this objective now looks difficult to achieve. Collaborations on Mediterranean sites can prove problematic, when one’s goal is to question methodology already employed on an excavation. Not everyone appreciates the critique of a ‘sceptical graduate student’ of Early Mesoamerican Village fame.6 Such questioning can damage the relationships needed to make an expedition possible. Directing one’s own fieldwork presents other problems. It can be both difficult and slow. The evidence may not provide much scope for innovation, and the report may take an age to reach publication, due to the difficulties of obtaining specialist reports. Recently, funding for fieldwork has become rare in the UK, and university managers have actively discouraged excavation, as representing a big investment for a small return, in ‘research output’ terms. All of these pressures have pushed me towards a methodological critique in prose and away from my own work in the field. I have settled down to expressing my reservations on the excavations of others, a method which is not especially fair, given that all field reports are ‘of their time’. But the climate in which I work is now more one of data analysis rather than primary data creation, as disappointing as that is. Finally, I also believe that this detailed work was a necessary part of my professional development. By mid-career, one should examine the basic assumptions on which one’s subject depends, so as to understand the foundations of the narrative one presents in teaching and so as to be able to make primary observations and conduct one’s own analysis. There is a tendency in archaeology to publish a text full of visually appealing data, to which one attaches one’s loosely understood feelings, to prove or disprove a well-known historical model. On other occasions, articles are built around exploring a fashionable theoretical idea, illustrated with cherry-picked examples. In each case, one ends up being comforted in an idea rather than being challenged. Thus, an ability to make new observations and to make

them on a large-scale is an important component of our intellectual honesty. It provides us with the capacity to prove ourselves wrong. We need to understand the data we use, how it was formed and how it was measured, in terms of identifiable standards. Some specialisms put a high value on such training. ‘Pottery people’ are inducted in the art of classifying fabrics and using reference works at a very early date. Epigraphers and philologists have a very precise idea of what they are looking for. But is this true of historians of ‘late antique urban space’? ‘Space’ is what exactly, in scholarly rather than intellectual terms? Is it measurements, phases, and ‘viewsheds’, or is it a collection of ideas that can only be expressed, not falsified? Perhaps empiricism has its place, and more of what we do should be about observation and method rather than theory.

This catalogue is composed of a series of entries that aim to support the main text, whilst also presenting a coherent selection of materials that might be read without the main narrative. The second of these aims is predominant throughout, except in the sections on encroachment. A listing of all cases might have overwhelmed this book, so has been avoided. As in the main text, one finds here a kind of encyclopaedic writing, which seeks to establish some form of objectivity through a comparative framework. This reflects my origins as a historical geographer and it suits an archaeological concern to produce easily read facts that most educated people can grasp without specialist training. Consistency has been my watch-word, although it has not always been achieved. It is for me the foundation of all fair comparisons. To encourage consistency, I have adopted a functional prose, where repetition is appropriate. I have concerned myself with phases, dates, sizes, masonry surfaces, or decorative finishes, rather than hidden details of wall fabric or road make-up. That is because my interests are primarily in visualisation, and human interaction with what can be seen, rather than in technology, even if some appreciation of technology inevitably creeps in. I do not record all measurements, such as road and portico lengths. Because we often have only small sections of portico or road, length measurements are not always meaningful. I have not recorded fine details of style in ornament. The reader will find more information on these topics from consulting the original reports and the thesis of my student Solinda Kamani on Neglected Architectural Decoration.7

6  Flannery (1976).

7  Kamani (2014).

Remarks on Content

12 Given that so much interest in archaeology is driven by leisure, a few words are needed to explain why the visual aesthetics of the evidence presented in this book are not as thrilling as are those of earlier centuries. It has to be admitted that study of late antique civic architecture looks rather dismal, against the foil of wider classical archaeology, at least in the way I practice it. The late repairs carried out on Hellenistic or Roman buildings are often the least appealing aspects of Mediterranean sites. Their strange aesthetics (with a few exceptions) often cause scholars of earlier periods to shake their heads and to mutter about how Christians wrecked the ancient city. Marble revetment hid a lot of spolia, but such revetment is now gone. This leaves us with mixed masonry hulks of composite reused materials, often in a poor state of conservation, set alongside earlier constructions of ashlar. Such nuances may leave visitors underwhelmed. Outside of the Near East, the overall impression one gets is not always entirely positive. Proportions often seem a little odd. Talk of an ‘archaeology of repair and occupation’ seems like special pleading. Repairs to colonnades on streets and plazas look like the last gasp of a struggling tradition, reliant on cheap architecture, and there are often relatively few new structures for many categories of building. A degree of eclecticism also takes hold, so that late markets or nymphaea look a little odd when compared together. Even the finest street architecture from the 4th to 6th c. struggles to compare with that of earlier 3rd c. Palmyra or with ecclesiastical and domestic architecture from Late Antiquity, for which there was clearly more money available. Yet, what is presented here is the standard breadand-butter of ‘anthropological’ archaeology: a record not of aesthetics but of the built structures and occupation traces of a past society. It is evidence that is collected to tell the story of urban society from the bottom up, not the top down, even if it does aspire to include the ‘top’. It is a collection of data in which the study of amenity is as important as monumental impact: gravel surfaces, sidewalks, and sewers get their due. At the same time, it tries to include traces of administration, civic representation, and public sponsorship of leisure. This is because political and social life, as much as exchange or religious identity, were key components of late antique cities, even if civic monumentality and administration now seem somewhat passé in Anglo-Saxon scholarship. A successful urban culture was made up of fountains, statues, sundials, and public gameboards: the infrastructure of outdoor social and commercial habits in the Mediterranean world. This might seem strange today in the north of Europe, where we measure social cohesion in terms of equal opportunity or ethnic mixing in schools. However, the small utilitarian and vain

Introduction

monuments in my catalogue also made up the political culture of a collective society. They were not merely ornamental. Streets and squares defined the culture of classical city in legal and social terms, stitching together all its buildings and communities. This is especially true of the forum / agora. A lot of things still happened on and around these plazas—major cults, most market buildings, and political buildings were found here. For this reason, the history of the fora / agorai alone is, to an extent, the history of ancient city as a whole, even in Late Antiquity. Thus, I have included not just the paving and porticoes of fora / agorai but the buildings around them. Spare a thought for those who kept such classical monuments in good repair during the long centuries of later Rome. Without them many extant temples and porticoes of earlier centuries would not have survived. They were the last curators of an ancient landscape which was as often cherished and protected as much as it was changed. Highlights of the Catalogue It is fair to ask what is new and noteworthy in a catalogue of this size. My own ‘research director’ has asked me to justify time spent on detail, so here I provide an explanation. To some, these lists will appear to be a dull summary of the work of others, mainly useful for being written in English. However, those with a more careful eye will note that I have written analytical summaries, not summations of reports, in which I have tried to order materials according to set headings, to obtain standardized information that supports comparison, and to fill gaps through my own observations. In terms of geographical scope, it has not been very satisfying to trawl through the footnotes of others about well-known monuments in the centre of Rome. I did think of omitting Rome and Constantinople at first, but soon realized this was impossible, given the increasingly centralized nature of investment in secular monumental forms. Nonetheless, even here, I have been able to make some suggestions, especially as regards phasing. An original contribution in my work is that I have made accessible a corpus of evidence on mundane aspects of street maintenance: of road surfaces and what lay below them. This will appeal to students of Roman rather than Classical Archaeology. Early medievalists will find also some studies of silt layers to keep them happy. But even for the classicist there are sections within the catalogues that might be informative. Mundane pedestrian facts, of layers, building sizes, and dates, form the essence of Roman Archaeology, so need no defence. Details of marbles, styles, and aesthetics are more of a delight to Classical

Introduction

Archaeology, but can also be found within my text. After all, not all late stuff is ‘bad’ aesthetically; especially if one stops assuming that all ‘good’ stuff is early. For classical-minded scholars, I would note the following ‘highlights’, which might spare them from reading too much about pebble surfaces. For street grids, the reservations that I have on the dating of Diocletia­ nopolis are important, as is my summary of recent excavations on the streets of Zenobia, which has uncovered dating evidence from the end of the 6th c. rather than the time of Justinian. The audience hall of Savaria deserves greater scrutiny over its date. The shops of Petra are not representative of encroachment. Two phases of encroachment can be suggested for the city centre of Scythopolis. The street system of Paris and Ravenna reveals significant variation in its surface, which has implications for how each city was organised. The entries on colonnaded streets are all worth looking at. My accounts of the Embolos and of other streets of Ephesus represent the first serious attempt to produce macrophasing in Ephesus, with significant implications. My revisions to the phasing of the colonnaded streets of Constantinople, Stobi, Sagalassos, Aphrodisias, Antioch, and Palmyra also deserve note. Porticoes, when listed on their own, seem a little less interesting, although those in Trier and Cirencester are well worth a look, whilst I have tried hard to set the Alytarch Stoa of Ephesus and the portico of Hierapolis within their wider context. At Jerusalem, a late portico rebuilding on the cardo, uses piers not columns, and merits further investigation. My treatment of the sidewalks of Gerasa and Scythopolis (Palladius Street) have also generated some important new observations, whilst the repaving of the main street of Autun deserves wider notice, as does the sewer below the paving outside Hagia Sophia at Constantinople. Those classicists able to stomach a foray into road technology should look at the paving of Ephesus, of Antioch in Pisidia and at the renewal of gravel in Paris and on the Panathenaic Way in Athens, which was never paved, except in its upper reaches. What I have written on entrance porches was also substantially new at the time of writing. Keen eyes may notice a dating comment on the Sardis synagogue, which, although based on my superficial grasp of a little-published site, is significant. My account of tetrakionia, tetrastyla, and tetrapyla is worth reading for anyone with monumental-aesthetic interests. I have made a lot of new observations here and updated Mulhenbrock on many points, as on the ‘Arch of Janus’ Tetrapylon in the Velabrum (now overrun by a new article in JRS). I also pay homage to German research on this monument and on the Heidentor in Carnuntum by putting a summary of this high-quality work into English. My catalogue of arches contains

13 rather less that is new, although my entries on the Gate of Hadrian and the Gate of Hercules at Ephesus contain important corrections to previous studies. My catalogue of ‘wall arches’ is also original, and the section on honorific columns presents many new measurements and some new phases. My nymphaea catalogue represents an advance on dating, in comparison to that of Jacobs and Richard. My lists of statues displayed in streets goes a little way past the Last Statues of Antiquity database, with some new bases, especially noting un-inscribed examples, or those which have been moved around more than LSA realises. Finally, a quick look at the work on minor streets is worthwhile, given the surprising level of investment by some cities. In terms of fora / agorai, the re-dating of the round plazas to Late Antiquity can now be confirmed, having been proposed by Wolfgang Theil. My account of the Tetrastoon of Aphrodisias and its phasing is perhaps the most comprehensive in print, with a fair number of new observations. That of the plazas of Constantinople (for the fora of Constantine and Theodosius) also includes an analysis of phasing that has not been explored before. My discussion of the ‘Forum of Valens’ at Antioch, closely based on a published report, may excite some, whereas that of the agora of Scythopolis will hopefully inspire clarifications from local scholars. In terms of repair, my summary of the Forum of Caesar should interest those without German or Italian, whereas that on Cirencester updates the theories of Wacher. ‘Ostians’ will enjoy an early résumé of the late phases identified from my excavations in the Palaestra of the Forum Baths, as they will later discussions of the Foro della statua eroica. My entry on the forum of Scolacium tries to bring a somewhat neglected site to wider attention. At Constantinople, my account of the secondary development of the Augusteion is significant but hypothetical. That on the lower agora of Ephesus should interest all scholars of 6th c. cities. My untangling of reports on other eastern plazas is likely to pass unnoticed, but these entries hint at the great potential of eastern sites for Late Antiquity. Likewise, entries on portico rebuilding or paving will interest very few people, although for the upper agora of Ephesus, or the oval plaza of Gerasa, I have done my best to offer new phasing. The statue appendix in the first forum-agora catalogue will seem of less value than that for streets. It appears to be close to a copy of the Oxford LSA database. Whilst my catalogue does follow LSA closely, thanks to permission from Bryan Ward-Perkins, it offers clarifications and corrections on some entries, and more archaeological context on others, including the coincidence of un-inscribed bases. My account of curiae / bouleuteria and temples built or repaired in Late Antiquity on fora /

14 agorai includes a great deal of new material, which I intend to exploit more fully in forthcoming papers elsewhere. Of the second agora catalogue, there is not much written about new building, but what is written is significant, as it shows the vitality of large provincial cities, although it is Constantinople where my observations might receive the most attention. My suggestions on Philippi, which challenge the chronology offered by Sève, will hopefully be tested one day through sondages and ceramic studies, which are long overdue for that site. My observations on the south portico of Aphrodisias will be ephemeral. The portico is doubtless about to be resurveyed, and I hope my speculations and estimated measures will be corrected. The same is true of Sagalassos, which is overly prominent because I was able to work there in 2004–2006, at a time when many scholars were waking up to the vibrancy of the 6th c. city. No doubt my observations here will become redundant as others take over the writing up of the areas I worked on. I have so far limited to myself to publish work that was already read and approved by the director and close colleagues at Sagalassos, submitted for publication as part of the end of fellowship submission. I remain grateful to Professor Waelkens for the opportunity I had to serve in that team. Only a brave soul would attempt to read the appendices on disuse of fora / agorai, but, then again, Tim Potter wrote a whole book about it, and Bryan Ward-Perkins began his career investigating such matters. Finally, the last catalogue on shops and markets fills out the picture that I provided in the Dumbarton Oaks’ Trade and Markets volume, on late antique commercial

Introduction

structures. There is more rigour now in my dating, alongside many new measurements. My analysis of the phasing of some market buildings has improved, although not all are fully published, making this difficult. The account of civil basilicas, newly built or repaired, is very substantial, but, again, forms a collection of material that I only partially exploit here. I have a chapter in my doctoral thesis relating to them. Sigma plazas represent an intriguing type of late monument and my study deserves to be read by anyone interested in classical public architecture. The study of shops is a niche interest, but to those who do wish to understand artisanal life, there are a good number of references to fixtures and fittings as well as residues, and I present new analyses of phasing for Sardis, Ephesus and a number of other sites, work which complements the research of my student Joe Williams on late antique retail activity. If some of these entries seem excessively repetitive, especially in discussing dating, it is because I hope that, ultimately, they might be read within an online database, as freestanding entries supported by appropriate plans and images. Finally, given the length of the work, and the difficulty of even obtaining many of the reports, I admit that there will be many omissions from all of my appendices, a final sweep of publications during proofs being impossible due to COVID–19. But updates require continued funding not available in normal academic circumstances. I am happy of course to receive corrections and donations to support further work, notably to put site plans and photographs online.

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types Note on Ceramic Referencing As a non-specialist it is necessary for me to adopt a range of dates for ceramic wares based on the main current manuals and reference works available to me. I aim to list all ceramics described in my text, although some ceramics are poorly described or have not yet been found widely, resulting in imprecision or voids in my dating column. It became necessary to construct this table as no such handlist of dates is available to practitioners. There are lists for African Red Slip and LRC (Phocaean Red Slip) on Wikipedia, but these do not state all of their sources, although they do differ slightly on a number of occasions from J. Hayes’ Late Roman Pottery (Abbrev.: LRP) and its Supplement (Abbrev.: SLRP), despite referencing them as their only source. Unfortunately, ceramicists accept a mixed level of responsibility in communicating the significance of their work. Many seem to regard ‘ceramic studies’ as an end in itself, and are not very concerned to furnish clear comparable information to those who might need to visit ceramic work with the goal of dating archaeological sites. When providing estimates of chronology, they tend to prefer prose terms to numerical dates, which prevent the clear comparison of different wares. I have had to cut through this and impose my own numerical system, consistent with that outlined in the foreword to the dating appendices, which is far from perfect. Over time, I have come to realise that mid-late 4th c. means 350–400 to some, 325–400 to others, and 340–400 to most. This is what one can find out from comparing instances where numerical dates and prose terms are provided together. Worse still, this sort of imprecision exists even within the same author’s work. Thus, we are in a pickle, and it is certainly not true that this is all a necessary ambiguity: there is plenty of unintended sloppiness as well. There is only one reaction I can have to this situation, and that is to impose my own dating framework, which sometimes creates abominable dates like 487.5–500 and 500–512.5 for ‘late 5th’ and ‘early 6th c.’. Yet I must do this, as ‘late 5th c.’ is obviously not equivalent to the last quarter of the 5th c. in so many reports, and I suspect that some author would also like this phrase to mean 450–500, from time to time. As a result of imposing my system, it is necessary to mention some dating compromises not covered by the existing framework set out in the foreword. The phrase ‘second quarter or mid 3rd c.’ is translated as the period 225–260; ‘just after 500’ is translated as up to 510; ‘a little before 450’ is 440; ‘central decades of the 5th c.’ is 440–460; ‘mid to later 5th c.’ is © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004423824_015

440–500, but ‘mid 5th c. to mid 6th c.’ remains 450–550, just as ‘mid to late 5th c.’ remains 450–500. The muddle with ‘mid’ is necessary, as so often we are told that a ware dates from the ‘first half or mid 5th c.’, which suggest something different to ‘first half of the 5th c.’ A numerical system plus a question mark makes things simpler, without claiming to be certain. Unfortunately, the wider positioning of question marks around dates is far from consistent in reports. I try to communicate the question marks and prose uncertainties that ceramic manuals and reports specify. Yet, often it is not clear from the text of a ceramic manual if a question mark relates to the end date alone or to a whole date range. I am unlikely to have been consistent in translating these inconsistencies of ceramic doubt. But snigger not, textual historians, as, with time, ceramic dating becomes a good deal more credible than most other forms of dating and is far more widely available. The study of Late Roman ceramics may be still at a relatively early stage in its development, but greater clarity does come with time, and anyone reading the pages of Bonifay or Hayes will realise that they are amongst the finest minds to have taken up the study of Late Antiquity. The reference works I use are as follows. For LRC and LRD, I use Hayes LRP / SLRP plus Atlante delle Forme Ceramiche I and II (Abbrev.: Atlante). For ARS, I follow the dating of M. Bonifay Etudes sur la céramique romaine tardive d’Afrique. When this is not available I use Atlante and when this is not available or looks faulty I use Hayes LRP with Hayes SLRP, which remains a perennial reference for its careful and detailed analysis. In some cases, the judgement of Atlante is modified by excavations available to Hayes SLRP but not LRP, notably Ostia I– IV, which I take account of, without delving into the Ostia reports. References to Lamboglia’s classification of (1958) and (1963) by Atlante are considered by me, but not deferred to, as they date from before Hayes LRP. Atlante tends to want to return to Lamboglia’s work quite often, perhaps because of its popularity with Italians, a tendency I try to resist, preferring LRP. This tendency to wish to retain the organisation, as well as the dating, of Lamboglia makes Atlante a little uncomfortable to use. Bonifay also refers to Lamboglia on occasion, as he does the classification of Salomonson (1968) and (1969), where there are gaps and uncertainties in Hayes. Therefore, I use ‘Lamboglia’ and ‘Salomonson’ and ‘Mackensen’ form labels etc. without deferring to their account of dates, which remains Bonifay / Atlante / SLRP / LRP. For other Mediterranean wares, I use Atlante delle Forme Ceramiche I and II. For north-western European wares,

16 I use Potsherd.net or the Lattara Dictionaire Ceramique of 1993 (Abbrev.: DCAMNO, currently being updated, apparently) supplemented by Brulet et al. (2010) La céramique romaine en Gaule du Nord. Dictionnaire des céramiques .. (Abbrev.: CRGN). For TSHT I use the article by Paz Peralta of 2008, listed below. This gives a numbered classification for intermediate and late TSH, known as ‘Paz form …’. In the East Mediterranean, things are a bit messier. Some centres of lamp production are well-known, as at Corinth and Isthmia whilst Sagalassos Red Slip Ware has a monograph by Poblome (1999) and Ephesian wares and lamps are coming into focus, notably reflected in Ladstäater with Sauer (2008). However, we still rely on somewhat vague dating from American excavations of the Agora of Athens published in Robinson (Agora V 1959) for some wares, where ceramics were organised by period layers. I do not include Agora V references here except for amphorae. My knowledge of Near-Eastern wares is often poor, with one accessible manual being Magness’ Jerusalem Ceramic Chronology. The ceramic chronology of Hesban (see Sauer and Herr (2012), although I follow the dates of Parker (2006) in my appendices) has long held sway in much of the interior of the Levant, and does make some appearances here, but is sometimes being challenged by more conventional ceramic dating. For amphorae, I use Bonifay then RADR. For amphorae not in RADR I use the website Amphorae ex Hispania at amphorae.icac.cat (last accessed Aug–Sept 2017) and various specified websites (accessed in the same period), with Egyptian amphorae dated in Dixneuf (2011), and Near-Eastern amphorae listed, with dates, in Pieri (2012). Occasionally, I use T. Bertoldi, Guida alle anfore romane di età imperiale. Forme, impasti e distribuzione (Rome 2012). For amphora classified by Keay, that have not been treated in the above works, I refer to S. Keay’s 1984 work Late Roman Amphorae in the Western Mediterranean: a Typology and Economic Study. The Catalan Evidence, although I am aware that many of his forms and dates have been superseded. For the convenience of the reader, I have included all the wares cited in the ‘common forms’ promulgated on wikipedia.org for ARS and LRC (with my dates, not wikipedia dates), but for other types of pottery I only cite the forms I use, making them only useful in relation to my own book. A final problem is the referencing of ceramic types, below and within my appendices. In most cases, it is the convention to use a shorthand name, either taking a ceramic type and number such LRA 1 or the name of the ceramicist who has best organised them, such as ‘Hayes 61B’. However, some authors have either had less success or are considered too young to be canonised. Therefore, there is a tendency for books to cite their name and the year in

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

which they published an important reference work / key study. This is highly confusing, as the name of the ceramic looks like a reference work. Yet, to give the name of such an article in full could lead to a list of ceramics becoming unmanageable. Thus, I try to note within the appendices when a Harvard style reference actually refers to the name of a ceramic ware, for which references are to be found here rather than in the main bibliography. For the same reasons, there are a good number of specialised works referred to below which are marked as ‘not seen’, as I consider them too specialised or too old for a non-specialist to meddle with. I am grateful to Dan Osland, Michel Kasprzyk, Steve Willis, Elizabeth Osinga, and Dominique Pieri for help in resolving queries on this text. All errors are of course my own. In Gaul, I am out of date on sigillée luisante, as I was not able to chase up all references suggested by M. Kapsprzyk. Bibliography Frequently Abbreviated Works

Agora V [Ceramic Type] = Robinson H.S. (1959) The Athenian Agora V: Pottery of the Roman Period (Princeton, N.J. 1959). Agora VII [Ceramic Type] = Perlzweig J. (1961) The Athenian Agora VII: Lamps of the Roman Period (Princeton, N.J. 1961). Atlante 1 = AAVV (1981) Atlante delle Forme Ceramiche I: Ceramica fine romana nel bacino mediterraneo (medio e tardo impero) (Rome 1981). Atlante 2 = AAVV (1985) Atlante delle Forme Ceramiche II: Ceramica fine romana nel bacino mediterraneo (tardo ellenismo e primo impero) (Rome 1985). Bailey = Bailey D.M. (1976–96) A Catalogue of the Lamps in the British Museum (London 1975–96) 4 vols. Bon = Bonifay M. (2004) Etudes sur la céramique romaine tardive d’Afrique (BAR IS 1301) (Oxford 2004). Conimbriga IV = Delgado M., Mayet F., and Moutinho de Alarcão A. (1975) Fouilles de Conimbriga, IV. Les sigillées (Paris 1975). CRGN = Brulet R., Vilvorder F., Delage R. and Ladron D. (2010) La céramique romaine en Gaule du Nord. Dictionnaire des céramiques: La vaisselle à large diffusion (Turnhout 2010). DCAMNO = Py M. dir. with Adroher Auroux A.M. and Raynaud C. (1993) Dictionnaire des Céramiques Antiques (VII ème s. av. n. è.–VII ème s. de n. è.) en Méditerranée nordoccidentale (Provence, Languedoc, Ampurdan) (Lattara 6 (1993)). Ephesos IV = F. Miltner, Forschungen in Ephesos IV:2 Das Cometerium der Sieben Schlafer (Vienna 1937) 96–200. Keay = Keay S. (1984) Late Roman Amphorae in the Western Mediterranean: a Typology and Economic Study. The Catalan Evidence (BAR IS 196) (Oxford 1984). LRP = Hayes J.W. (1972) Late Roman Pottery (London 1972).

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types Michigan I = Hayes J.W. (1976) “Pottery: stratified groups and typology”, in Excavations at Carthage, 1975, conducted by the University of Michigan, I. Tunis dir. J.H. Humphrey (Cérès 1976) 47–123. Michigan IV = Hayes J.W. (1978) “Pottery report—1976”, in Excavations at Carthage, 1976, conducted by the University of Michigan, IV dir. J.H. Humphrey (Ann Arbor, Kelsey Museum, 1978) 23–98. Ostia I = Carandini A. dir. (1968) Ostia I. Le terme del Nuotatore. Scavo dell’ambiente IV (Rome 1968) (Studi Miscellanei 13) (not seen). Ostia II = Carandini A. dir. (1970) Ostia II. Le terme del Nuotatore. Scavo dell’ambiente I (Rome 1970) (Studi Miscellanei 16) (not seen). Ostia III = Carandini A. and Panella C. dir. (1973) Ostia III. Le terme del Nuotatore. Scavo dell’ambiente V e di un saggio nell’area SO (Rome 1973) (Studi Miscellanei 21) (not seen). Ostia IV = Carandini A. and Panella C. dir. (1977) Ostia IV. Le Terme del Nuotatore. Scavo dell’ambiente XVI e dell’area XXV (Rome 1977) (Studi Miscellanei 23) (not seen). Paz = Paz Peralta J.Á. (2008) “Las producciones de terra sigillata hispánica intermedia y tardía”, in Cerámicas hispanorromanas. Un estado de la cuestión. XXVI Congreso Internacional de la Asociación Rei Cretariae Romanae Fautores, edd. D. Bernal Casasola and A. Ribera i Lacomba (Cadiz 2008) 497–539. SLRP = Hayes J.W. (1980) A Supplement to Late Roman Pottery (London 1980).

Other Works

Blaszkiewicz P. and Jigan C. (1991) “Le problème de la diffusion et de la datation de la céramique sigillée d’Argonne décorée à la molette des IV ème–V ème siècles dans le nordouest de l’Empire”, in Actes du Congrès de Cognac. 8–11 Mai 1991. Société Française d’Étude de la Céramique Antique en Gaule, ed. L. Rivet (Marseille 1991) 385–415. Boli A. and Skiadaressis Y. (2001) “The stratification of the south wing”, in Αρχαία αγορά Θεσσαλονίκης, vol. 1, Πρακτικά, ed. P. Adam Veleni (Thessalonica 2001) 87–104. Broneer O. (1977) Isthmia 3 Terracotta Lamps (Princeton 1977). Dixneuf D. (2011) Amphores égyptiennes. Production, typologie, contenu et diffusion (IIIe siècle avant J.-C.—IXe siècle après J.-C.) (Études alexandrines 22) (Alexandria 2011). Fulford M.G. and Peacock D.P.S. (1984) Excavations at Car­ thage: The British Mission, Vol. 1.2, The Avenue du Président Habib Bourguiba, Salambo: The Pottery and other Ceramic Objects from the Site (Sheffield 1984) (not seen). Fulford M.G. and Peacock D.P.S. (1994) Excavations at Car­ thage 2.2, The Circular Harbour, North Side (Oxford 1994) (not seen). Hayes J.W. (1976) (article title not obtained), in A propos des céramiques de Conimbriga: table ronde tenue à Conimbriga (Portugal), les 25–26–27 mars 1975 (Paris 1976) (not seen).

17 Hayes J.W. (1971) “A new type of Early Christian ampula”, BSA 66 (1971) 243–48. Hayes J.W. (1977) “North African flanged bowls: a problem in fifth-century chronology”, in Roman Pottery Studies in Britain and Beyond. Papers Presented to John Gillam, July 1977, edd. J. Dore and K, Greene (BAR IS 30) (Oxford 1977) 279–87. Ladstäater S. with Sauer R. (2008) “Funde IV.1: Römische, spätantike und byzantinische Keramik”, in Das Vedius­ gymnasium in Ephesos Archäologie und Baubefund, edd. M. Steksal and M. La Torre (Forschungen in Ephesos 14.1) (Vienna 2008) 97–189. Lamboglia N. (1958) “Nuove osservazioni sulla ‘terra sigillata chiara’, I. Tipi A e B.”, Rivista di Studi Liguri 24 (1958) 257– 330 (not seen). Lamboglia N. (1963) “Nuove osservazioni sulla ‘terra sigillata chiara’, II. Tipi C, Lucente e D.”, Rivista di Studi Liguri 29 (1963) 145–212 (not seen). Macias Solé J.M. (1999) La ceràmica comuna tardoantiga a Tàrraco. Anàlisi tipològica i històrica (segles VVII) (TULCIS. Monografies Tarraconenses, 1) (Tarragona 1999) (not seen). Mackensen M. (1993) Die spätantiken sigillata- und Lampen­ töpfereien von El Mahrine (Nordtunesien) (Münchner Beiträge zur Vor- und Frühgeschichte 50) (Munich 1993). Magness J. (1993) Jerusalem Ceramic Chronology (c. 200– 800 CE) (Sheffield 1993). Northedge A. and Kennet D. (1994) “The Samarra horizon”, in Cobalt and Luster: The First Centuries of Islamic Pottery. The Nasser D. Khalili Collection of Islamic Art vol. 9, ed. E.J. Grube (London 1994) 21–35. Olcese G. (1993) Le ceramiche comuni di Albintimilium (Florence 1993). Parker S.T. (2006) “The Pottery”, in The Roman Frontier in Central Jordan: Final Report on the Limes Arabicus Project, 1980–1989 by S.T. Parker (Dumbarton Oaks Studies 40) vol. 2 (Washington 2006) 329–76. Pieri D. (2012) “Regional and interregional exchanges in the Eastern Mediterranean during the Early Byzantine Period: the evidence of amphorae”, in Trade and Markets in Byzantium, ed. C. Morrisson (Washington D.C. 2012) 27–49. Poblome J. (1999) Sagalassos Red Slip Ware: Typology and Chro­ nology (Studies in Eastern Mediterranean Archaeology 2) (Turnhout 1999). Riley J.A. (1975) “Pottery from the first session of excavation in the Caesarea hippodrome”, BASOR 218 (1975) 25–63. Salam H. (2009) “An ethno-archaeological approach to Ottoman pottery: the case of ‘Gaza Grey Ware’”, in Reflections of Empire: Archaeological and Ethnographic Studies on the Pottery of the Ottoman Levant, ed. B.J. Walker (Boston 2009) 23–36. Sauer J.A. and Herr L.G. (2012) (edd.), Ceramic Finds. Typo­ logical and Technological Studies of the Pottery Remains

18 from Tell Hesban and Vicinity (Hesban 11) (Berrien Springs, Michigan 2012) (not seen). Tortorella S. (1987) “La ceramica africana: un riesame della problematica”, in Céramiques hellénistiques et romaines II, edd. P. Lévêque and J.-P. Morel (Paris 1987). Tyers P. (1996) “Concordance” in Roman Amphorae in Britain (Internet Archaeology 1996) http://intarch.ac.uk/journal/ issue1/tyers/index.html. Walker B.J. (2009) “Identifying the Late Islamic Period ceramically. Preliminary observations on Ottoman Wares from Central and Northern Jordan”, in Reflections of Empire:

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types Archaeological and Ethnographic Studies on the Pottery of the Ottoman Levant, ed. B.J. Walker (Boston 2009) 37–66. Walmsley A.G. (2001) “Turning East. The appearance of Islamic Cream Ware in Jordan: the ‘end of Antiquity’?”, in La céramique byzantine et proto-islamique en Syrie-Jordanie (IV e–VIIIe siècles apr. J.-C.): Actes du colloque tenu à Amman les 3, 4 et 5 décembre 1994, edd. E. Villeneuve and P.M. Watson (Beruit 2001) 305–313. Young C.J. (1977) The Roman Pottery Industry of the Oxford Region (BAR 43) (Oxford 1977).

SLRP: In general: says the 2nd c. datings proposed were on average about 20 years too early: pp. 514–516.

100–200 Bon

100–150 Bon

100–150 Bon

Bonifay Sigillata Type 14A–B

Bonifay Sigillata Type 14C–D

Bonifay Sigillata Type 15

Atlante LXXIII, 2= Salomonson XXVIII = Bonifay Sigillata Type 18 Fulford 27 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 75 Fulford 39–40 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 76 Fulford Closed form 1 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 61 Fulford Closed form 2 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 62

200–300 Bon

450–512.5 Bon

450–550 Bon

487.5–600 Bon

487.5–600 Bon

p. 189: end of 5th to 6th c.

p. 189: end of 5th to 6th c.

Second half of 5th to mid 6th c.

Second half of 5th or beg. of 6th c.

3rd c.

Atlante XLI, 3–4, variant tardive. = p. 210: 7th c.? Bonifay Sigillata Type 89

Bonifay Sigillata Type 15: first half of 2nd c.

Bonifay Sigillata Type 14C–D: first half of 2nd c.

Bonifay Sigillata Type 14A–B 2nd c.

Bonifay Études 2004 comments

600–700 Bon

Atlante XVII, 17 = Atlante LXXII, 2 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 14

Bonifay Études 2004 references

Atlante XLI, 3–4 = Bonifay Sigillata p. 207: end of 6th to 7th c. Type 85

Atlante comments

587.5–700 Bon

SLRP: Style A stamped decoration should appear ca. 380: p. 516

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

ARS D appeared in the 4th c. until 300–700 DCAMNO the 7th c. according to DCAMNO

ARS D

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

200–500 DCAMNO ARS C appeared at end of 2nd / beg 3rd c. and lasted to mid 5th c. o DCAMNO p. 185 but individual wares taken together give a range of 200–500.

ARS C

African Red Slip Finewares and Coarsewares

Checklist

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

19

60–80 LRP

50?–100 LRP

60–150 LRP

60–90 LRP

75–150 LRP

100–150 LRP, but possibly 287.5–?250 Atlante?

Missing

87.5–200 LRP

87.5–112.5 LRP

140?–160? LRP

Missing

60–150 LRP

60–100 LRP

87.5–112.5 LRP

140–160 LRP

87.5–187.5 LRP

87.5–112.5 LRP

150–200 LRP

Missing

Hayes form 1

Hayes form 2

Hayes form 3

Hayes form 3A

Hayes form 3B

Hayes form 3C

Hayes form 3E

Hayes form 4

Hayes form 4A

Hayes form 4B

Hayes form 4C

Hayes form 5

Hayes form 5A

Hayes form 5B

Hayes form 5C

Hayes form 6

Hayes form 6A

Hayes form 6B

Hayes form 6C

Unclear

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.)

Not in LRP or LSRP

About mid to end 2nd c.

End of 1st to early 2nd c.

Perhaps mid-2nd c.

Late 1st to early 2nd c.

Flavian or a little earlier

Not in LRP / SLRP

B: perhaps mid-2nd c.

A: late 1st to early 2nd c.

Not in LRP or SLRP

Early to mid 2nd c.

75–150

60–90

60–150

Flavian, possibly earlier

Probable date 60–80

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

p. 25 says that Hayes puts this a little later than the precedent form i.e. 6B, although I could not find this in LRP or SLRP

p. 25 = Lamboglia 23, repeats LRP

p. 25: repeats LRP

No dating in Atlante, although form is mentioned on p. 138

p. 22 = Lamboglia 18, repeats LRP

p. 22: repeats LRP

pp. 22–23 = Lamboglia 18 / 31, repeats LRP

No dating in Atlante, although form is mentioned on p. 138

No dating in Atlante although form is mentioned on p. 138

p. 23: repeats LRP

p. 23 = Lamboglia 5, repeating LRP for date

p. 24: notes based on Ostia I a possible later chronology of end 2nd to 3rd c.

p. 24: repeats LRP

p. 22: repeats LRP

Atlante comments

Hayes 3B–C = Lamboglia A4 / 36A–B = Bonifay Sigillata Type 2

Hayes 3A = Salomonson A1 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 1

Hayes 2 = Lamboglia A4 / 35 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 1

Gourvest E3 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 31

Bonifay Études 2004 references

p. 156: no dating offered

p. 156: no dating offered

p. 156: no dating offered

Belongs to a late phase of production C5

Bonifay Études 2004 comments

20 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

60–200 LRP

60–ca. 150 LRP + Atlante

100–150 LRP

150–200 Bon

75–212.5 Atlante

200–300 Atlante

100–200 LRP

ca. 100–160+ LRP

Hayes form 7

Hayes form 7A

Hayes form 7B

Hayes form 8

Hayes form 8A

Hayes form 8B

Hayes form 9

Hayes form 9A

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.)

A: ca. 100–160+

B: second half of 2nd c. LRP + extension to 320 SLRP p. 515, noting presence in deposit of ca. 240 in Ostia I

A: ca. 80/90–160+

SLRP p. 515: 8 and 9 rouletted versions should be extended to at least the 180s. 8B and 9B should continue into at least the first two decades of 3rd c.

B: early-mid 2nd c.

A: Flavian: early 2nd c.

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

p. 27 = Lamboglia 2a: repeats LRP but notes that that at Ostia (unpublished data) is found in contexts of the second half of 2nd c. This does not decisively change the range given in LRP. I have not done all variants here in Atlante in surrounding numbers

p. 26 = Lamboglia 1c: Atlante gives it as 3rd c. based on Colomines and Ostia I and Ostia III, ignoring dates of Hayes

p. 26 = Lamboglia 1a: Atlante repeats LRP and notes tighter Lamboglia dating, which is disregarded by me as Lamboglia is before LRP p. 26 = Lamboglia 1b: Atlante has 150–beg. 3rd c. based on Lamboglia Ostia III, repeating that Hayes considers the form to not go past the second half of the 2nd c.

p. 26: quotes Hayes as saying it is first half of 2nd c. and that Lamboglia has it for all of 2nd c. We follow Hayes over Lamboglia however as Hayes LRP is later.

p. 26: repeats LRP and then says found in contexts of second half of 2nd c. citing Ostia, unpublished data.

No dating in Atlante, although form is mentioned on p. 138

Atlante comments

Hayes 8 = Lamboglia A1 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 3

Bonifay Études 2004 references

3rd c.

Second half of 2nd c.

Bonifay Études 2004 comments

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

21

100–200 LRP

220–300+? Atlante, but unsupported

100–150? LRP

150–200? LRP

100?–200? LRP

450–512.5 SLRP

Hayes form 10

Hayes form 10.3 (part of 10A in LRP)

Hayes form 10A

Hayes form 10B

Hayes form 11

Hayes form 12 / 102

Hayes form 12 / 110 = 450–550 Atlante Bonifay Sigillata Type 30

B: second half of 2nd c. LRP + extension to 320 SLRP p. 515, noting presence in deposit of ca. 240 in Ostia I

150–200 SLRP + Atlante, noting that Lamboglia 2c is part of this ware in Hayes

Hayes form 9B

12 presumably 2nd c. SLRP p. 487 suggests 5th c.+ in general, and likely mid 5th–early 6th c. (so 450–512.5)

11 presumably 2nd c.

10 is 2nd c. with A presumably early and B presumably late.

10 is 2nd c. with A presumably early and B presumably late.

10 is 2nd c. with A presumably early and B presumably late.

10 is 2nd c. with A presumably early and B presumably late.

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.)

Hayes 10 = Lamboglia A21 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 4

Bonifay Études 2004 references

Hayes 12 / 110 = Bonifay Sigillata p. 114: attested at Carthage in contexts of second half of the 5th Type 30 c. (Michigan IV), of the end of the 5th c., of ca. 560 (together with material datable in great part to end of 5th and mid-6th c., of 7th c. (Michigan I) and in contexts little posterior to the mid-6th c. (Italian Carthage Mission unpublished data). [From this information I suggest a date range of 450–550.] p. 259: details of finds in a new context of the Canadian excavations at Carthage of 425–475 or 450–500.

p. 259: details of finds in a new context of the Canadian excavations at Carthage of 425–475 or 450–500 does not change anything.

p. 30: repeats LRP

p. 30: “220/225–300 e forse oltre” without stating what it is based on

p. 27 = Lamboglia 2b: repeats LRP, and notes that not produced in first half of 3rd c. p. 27 = Lamboglia 2c: beg. of 3rd c. (citing Lamboglia)

Atlante comments

N.B. different numbering system to Hayes. No date given in Bonifay, noting that it is part of group ‘C5’ and associated with forms 84 and 85 at Rougga.

ca. first half of 2nd c.

Bonifay Études 2004 comments

22 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

Probably early 2nd c.

150–200 Atlante

187.5–300 Bon

187.5–212.5 Bon

200–250 Bon

200–300 Bon

Hayes form 13

Hayes form 14

Hayes form 14A

Hayes form 14B

Hayes form 14C

Early–mid 3rd c.

250–300 Bon

300–400 Bon

187.5–212.5 Bon

200–300 Bon

187.5–212.5 Bon

87.5–150 ca. Atlante

Hayes form 15

Hayes 15 classic variants

Hayes form 16

Hayes form 17

Hayes form 18

Hayes form 19

Late 1st to early 2nd c.

Early 3rd c.

A date around the second half of the 2nd c. seems probable

ca. 150–200+

Date around second half of 2nd c. seems probable

Hayes form 14 / 17 n. 1 150–250 LRP + Atlante

C: late 2nd to early 3rd c.(?)

B: ca. 160–200+

A: mid 2nd c.

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.)

p. 30 = Lamboglia 10 = Salomonson A11: noting end of 1st to beg. 2nd c. citing Hayes and Ostia (unpublished data) and mid 2nd c. ca. citing Salomonson

p. 34 14 / 17 n. 1: second half of 2nd c.? Repeating Hayes. First half of 3rd c. citing Ostia I.

p. 27: second half to end of 2nd c. based on similarities to Hayes 24 and Hayes 25 and Salomonson XXVIIIb.

Atlante comments

End of 2nd to beg. 3rd c. [one example presented in Bon]

4th c. for classic variants

Second half of 3rd c.

3rd c. [one example presented in Bon]

3rd c. (first half?), [one example presented in Bon]

End of 2nd to beg 3rd

Bonifay Études 2004 comments

End of 2nd to beg. 3rd c. [no examples presented but claim made on Bon p. 159.]

Hayes 17 = Lamboglia A8 = Bonifay 3rd c. Sigillata Type 10

Hayes 16 = Lamboglia A3c = Bonifay Sigillata Type 6

Hayes 15 = Lamboglia A3b1 = Bonifay Sigillata Type

Hayes 15 = Lamboglia A3b1 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 8

Hayes 14C = Lamboglia A3b2 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 9

Hayes 14B = Lamboglia A3a = Bonifay Sigillata Type 7

Hayes 14A = Lamboglia A3a = Bonifay Sigillata Type 5

Bonifay Études 2004 references

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

23

Late 1st to early 2nd c.

75–200 or slightly earlier LRP + Atlante

100–150 LRP

100–150+ LRP

70–400 Bon

70–200 Bon

100–400 Bon

187.5–212.5 LRP

100–200 LRP

Hayes form 20

Hayes form 21

Hayes form 22

Hayes form 23

Hayes form 23A

Hayes form 23B

Hayes form 24

Hayes form 25

p. 28 = Lamboglia 20: repeats LRP and adds that attested in contexts of Hadrianic and Antonine date, but not produced after the end of 2nd c. citing Ostia III and unspecified unpublished data. I adopt 200 as being the end date from this info although it could be earlier.

Atlante comments

Uncertain probably 2nd c. on style and fabric

Probably late 2nd or early 3rd c.

B: LRP p. 48 mid–2nd to early-3rd c.

A: LRP p. 48 early–mid 2nd c.

Probably early–mid 2nd c. n. 3 may be later

23B: 217

23A: 217

p. 28 = Lamboglia 19 for Hayes 22 nn. 1–2: repeats LRP and states that one cannot exclude that the form might have been produced in the Antonine period or the beg. of 3rd c., without citing any sources for this information [so I ignore it in favour of LRP]

Uncertain, probably early–mid 2nd c. p. 30 = Lamboglia 19 bis: second (on account of the rouletting) half of 2nd c. (Lamboglia); first half of 2nd c. (Hayes) [I permit Hayes to stand as LRP later than Lamboglia]

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.)

Hayes 24 = Salomonson XXVIIIb = Bonifay Sigillata Type 19

Hayes 23 = Lamboglia 10 = Bon Cookingware Type 1

Bonifay Études 2004 references

p. 211: Hayes 23B appears a bit later, documented from first half of 2nd c. to end of 4th c.

p. 211: Hayes 23A from Flavian period (Atlante I, 217 and especially in contexts of 2nd c.

Bonifay Études 2004 comments

24 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

200–300 Bon

200–212.5 LRP

200?–212.5? LRP

200–250 LRP

200–300 Bon

200–250? Bon

287.5–312.5 LRP

ca. 200–250+ LRP

Hayes form 27

Hayes form 28

Hayes form 29

Hayes form 30

Hayes form 31

Hayes form 32

Hayes form 32 / 58

Hayes form 33

First half of 3rd c. Hayes 36

Hayes form 36 = 200–250 LRP Salomonson XXIV = Bonifay Sigillata Type 22

LRP and SLRP; not listed First half of 3rd c. Hayes 35

Missing

Hayes form 37T

First half of 3rd c.

ca. 200–250+

Form 32 / 58 is late 3rd to early 4th c.

Early–mid 3rd c.

Early–mid 3rd c.

First half of 3rd c.

Probably early 3rd c.

Early 3rd c.

Hayes form 35 = Bonifay 200–250 LRP Sigillata Type 21

200–350 LRP

Hayes form 37

forms 34–43 are rare

Second half of 2nd c. SLRP: 26, late version: late 4th to ca. mid 5th c. contexts at Carthage

200–300 Bon

Hayes form 26

c. 160–220

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.)

p. 146 = Lamboglia 6b for Hayes 36 n. 1: Repeats LRP.

p. 146: repeats LRP

p. 149: for Hayes 37, which is given as second quarter to mid 3rd c. following Salomonson (1964) or (1968) and first half of 3rd c. following Hayes LRP, which is what I will use here as LRP was published after Salomonson.

p. 55: repeats LRP and then adds that in baths of Corfu is associated with Hayes 27 n. 9 and Hayes 31 n. 1,4 without making further chronological comments

p. 55: repeats LRP

p. 55: repeats LRP

Atlante comments

Hayes 36= Salomonson XXIV = Bonifay Sigillata Type 22

Hayes 35 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 21

Hayes 32 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 25

Hayes 31 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 11

Hayes 27 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 13

Hayes 26 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 12 [see Atlante 1.54]

Bonifay Études 2004 references

p. 162: no dating available

p. 162: no dating available

Some examples of first half of 3rd c. from Pupput

3rd c. [one example presented in Bon]

p. 159: 3rd c.

p. 159: 3rd c.

Bonifay Études 2004 comments

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

25

C: 300–350 LRP

275–325 LRP

C: early–mid 4th c.

A + B ca. 230–320 LRP

Hayes form 45A

Hayes form 46

A and B ca. 230/40–320 (A mostly early)

230–350 LRP deduced from combining ranges of A–C

Hayes form 45

250–300 LRP

220/40 to late 3rd c. (or slightly later)

220–300 LRP

Hayes form 44

Hayes form 47

First half of 3rd c. or slightly earlier Hayes 38

Hayes form 38 = Bonifay 200–250 LRP Sigillata Type 20

Last quarter 3rd to first quarter 4th c.

Mid–late 3rd c. LRP probable date form 47 has only 1 example in LRP

No date in LRP

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.)

p. 118

p. 61: repeats LRP

p. 64: Hayes 45A = Lamboglia 42 = Salomonson 45A. p. 118: Hayes 45B n. 9–11 is 230/240–320 repeating LRP; 45C n. 12–14 is beg to first half of 4th c. repeating LRP.

p. 34: Hayes 44 n. 4–5 and n. 9 = Lamboglia 35. Attested in contexts of the first half of 3rd c. (Ostia IV). 220–240 ca. to end of 3rd c. in Hayes. p. 70: Lamboglia 35, 35 bis: Hayes 44 n. 103 and n. 8. Attested in contexts of the first half of 3rd c. (Ostia I). 220–240 ca. to end of 3rd c. or a little beyond in Hayes. Salomonson dating within this range but earlier than Hayes so ignored by me.

p. 28: repeats LRP and notes Lamboglia chronology of beg. of 3rd c. LRP takes precedence as published later.

Atlante comments

Bonifay Études 2004 comments p. 162: no dating available

Bonifay Études 2004 references Hayes 38 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 20

26 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

ca. 230/40–300 (with variants continuing later) LRP

350–400 E. Vaccaro pers. comm. Form 50; no dates in Hayes, LRP

Hayes 49

Hayes form 50

A: ca. 230/240–325 LRP later variant ca. 300–60 LRP

B: ca. 350–400+ LRP

Hayes form 50A

Hayes form 50B

Hayes 50A / B

A: ca. 220–70 B: ca. 260–320

A: ca. 220–70 LRP B: ca. 260–320 LRP

Hayes form 48

B: ca. 350–400+

A: thin fine examples ca. 230/ 240–325; later variety ca. 300–60

ca. 230/40–300 (with variants continuing later)

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.)

p. 65: Hayes 50B n. 56–59 given as 350–400 almost repeating LRP. p. 86 n. 60: given as 350–400 and after? repeating LRP

p. 65: Lamboglia 40 bis = Hayes 50A n. 1–45. 230/40–ca. 325 repeating LRP. Frequent in contexts of the first half of 3rd c. (Ostia I), an observ. which does not induce me to change the dating of LRP p. 65: Lamboglia 40 = Hayes 50A n. 47–54. 300–ca. 360 repeating LRP.

p. 65: no dating for specific Hayes 50 form without A or B though mention of Hayes 50 n. 55 variant.

p. 61: Hayes 49 n. 1–6 is given as 230/40 to 300 ca., repeating LRP, noting that it is especially found in contexts of first half of 3rd c. at Ostia I and Dura Europus. One variant Sal. C2 comes in contest of third quarter of 3rd c. but I will not allow it to change things here.

p. 60: Lamboglia 41 = Hayes 48A and 48B n. 5. Hayes 48B n. 609 and 10 is a separate ware. A: Lamboglia 41 is given as 220–270 ca. following LRP p. 61: with listing of datings of Ostia I that do not change Hayes and of Salomonson that are a bit later (mid 3rd to 2nd quarter of 4th c. or mid-4th c.) but displaced by Hayes LRP. B: p. 61 repeats LRP. There are two more variants listed I have not noted here.

Atlante comments

Variant Hayes 50A / B is 300–400 E. Vaccaro pers. comm. 2016

Bonifay Études 2004 references

Bonifay Études 2004 comments

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

27

400–450 Bon

300–400 LRP

300–312.5 LRP

300–400 LRP

ca. 280–400 LRP

ca. 300–350? LRP

ca. 280–400 LRP

53A ca. 350–430+ LRP 53B ca. 370–430 LRP

Hayes form 50B, n° 61 = Late variant Bonifay Sigillata Type 65

Hayes form 51

Hayes form 51A

Hayes form 51B

Hayes form 52

Hayes form 52A

Hayes form 52B Small Bowl

Hayes form 53

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.)

A: ca. 350–430+ B: ca. 370–430

B: ca. 280/300 to late 4th c.; late variants early 5th c.+ (small example of 52 forms mainly early, large example late, plain lips mainly early, grooved lips later)

A: ca. 300–350?

Form 52 is earlier part of 4th c. not entire century [but see individual dates below for A and B]

B: 4th c. LRP

A: early 4th c. LRP

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

A: p. 159 Repeats LRP B: p. 67 and p. 87; repeats LRP

p. 162: Hayes 52B n. 4, n. 19 = Lamboglia 35 plus listing of variants. Does not correspond well to LRP dating as determined to follow Lamboglia and Salomonson work of before LRP. I follow LRP

p. 70: 52A n. 1–2 is Lamboglia 35 ter. Part of a wider group of Wares in Atlante which is always trying to retain the Lamboglia classification. The dating given as 220/40 ca. to end of 3rd c. citing Hayes does not make sense to me. Atlante more specifically says that examples attributed to Hayes 52A. Hayes suggests a date around the beg. of the 4th c. though based on contexts without secure chronological termini. Atlante omits to mention that LRP qualifies this date in numerical terms as ca. 300–350?

?

p. 158: repeats LRP

p. 157: notes Salomonson date of mid 4th c. and LRP date of beg. 4th c. LRP takes precedence for me as later.

Atlante comments Hayes 50B, n° 61 Late variant = Bonifay Sigillata Type 65

Bonifay Études 2004 references First half of 5th c.

Bonifay Études 2004 comments

28 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

360–430? LRP

350–450 LRP

ca. 360–430 LRP 56 flat-based variant: 400–450 SLRP

ca. 325–400 (?) LRP

ca. 290/300–375 LRP

Hayes form 55

Hayes form 55

Hayes form 56 Dish

Hayes form 57

Hayes form 58

Hayes 58 variant = Lamboglia D52B Bonifay Sigillata Type 35

350–400 LRP

Hayes form 54

Hayes 53B, variant Sperlonga 33 Bonifay Sigillata Type 66

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.)

Form 58 is divided into A and B in Hayes

ca. 325–400 (?)

ca. 360–430 SLRP: 56 flat-based variant: first half of the 5th c.

55.1: first half of 5th c. 55.2: second half of 4th c. 55.3: is perhaps intermediate

Contemp. with Hayes 56 (360–430)

Mid–late 4th c.

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

p. 66: repeats LRP and adds that attested in contexts of end of 4th to beg of 5th c. (Ostia IV), which does not have to change the LRP date range.

p. 160: repeats LRP p. 92: mentions that a fragment has been found in an unpublished context of the Italian Carthage expedition, dated 510–550, which I discount as it is not enough alone to change the dating of LRP.

p. 158: chronology repeats Hayes (given as 2nd half of the 4th to first half of the 5th c.?, which is actually the variant chronology, below) and gives Salomonson as being mid4th c., although only on work cited by S is after LRP, so I follow LRP.

Form 54: p. 158 = Lamboglia 42 / 48. Repeats older datings of Lamboglia (especially old) and Salomonson (closer to LRP, but does not disrupt its date range, being mid 4th c.) which I do not follow.

Atlante comments

Hayes 58 variant = Lamboglia D52b = Bonifay Sigillata Type 35

Hayes 53B, variant Sperlonga 33 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 66

Bonifay Études 2004 references

One complete example known from second quarter or middle of 6th c. [ignored by me]

First half of 5th c.

Bonifay Études 2004 comments

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

29

A: ca. 290/300–375

ca. 290/300–375 LRP

ca. 290/300–375 LRP

ca. 320–420 LRP

ca. 320–380/400 LRP

ca. 320–420 LRP

400–450 Bon

ca. 320(?)–380 LRP

450–500 Bon

Hayes form 58A

Hayes form 58B

Hayes form 59

Hayes form 59A

Hayes form 59B

Hayes form 59C

Hayes form 60

Hayes form 60.3

Form 60.3 from Lepcis mid–late 4th c.(?)

ca. 320(?)–380

B: ca. 320–420

A: ca. 320–380/400

B: ca. 290/300–375

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.)

p. 84: repeats Hayes then notes in context of between 360 and 440 of the Italian Mission at Carthage (unpublished) and at Conimbriga destruction levels of 465–468 (Conimbriga 1975). This could suggest an extension but these latter excavations are now open to question

Not helpful; does not distinguish A+B

Not helpful; does not distinguish A+B

p. 82: repeats LRP for 58B n. 15, n. 9, n. 21 of 290/300–375. Repeats LRP n. 11 for 350–375. Repeats LRP for 58B n. 19 end of 3rd to beg of 4th c.? (Hayes). I could not myself see quite all of this precision within the LRP account although the dates of Atlante clearly are based on it. States that these forms (grouped with other variants) are found in end of 4th to early 5th c. levels at Ostia, but this does not mean that the Hayes range needs to change.

p. 118: repeats LRP

Atlante comments

Bonifay Études 2004 comments

Hayes 60, n° 3 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 70

All examples from contexts of second half of 5th c. [so a substantial revision from the dating of Hayes]

Hayes 59C = Jodin, Ponsich (1960), First half of the 5th c. fig. 6 Bonifay Sigillata Type 36

Bonifay Études 2004 references

30 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

325–500 LRP with Bon

Hayes 61 of Sitifis (?) = Février (1963) fig. 8 Hayes 61 Tripolitanian = Tripolitanian RSW, Hayes 3

Hayes form 61 of Sitifis 400–450? Bon

Hayes form 61 Tripolitanian = Tripolitanian RSW

400–450? Bon

Hayes 61C = Bonifay Sigillata Type 39

450–500 Bon

Hayes form 61C

SLRP: Hayes form 61.28 probably ends before 450 acc. to SLRP

ca. 380–425? LRP with SLRP

Hayes form 61.28

Seems to be ‘first half of 5th c.?’ as classed with Bonifay Sigillata Type 67

Seems to be ‘first half of 5th c.?’ as classed with Bonifay Sigillata Type 67

Mid–2nd half of 5th c.

B3: mid-5th c., with late examples end of 5th c.

440–500 Bon

Hayes 61B = Bonifay Sigillata Type 38

Hayes form 61B3

B: ca. 400–450 SLRP; Hayes form 61B now begins c. 380 according to SLRP

Hayes 61A / B = Bonifay Sigillata Type 37

B1 and B2: first half of 5th c.

ca. 380–450 in LRP with SLRP. Bon 400–500 for all variants, which I follow here

Hayes form 61B

A: ca. 325–400/420 SLRP: Hayes form 61A ends   in SLRP

400–450 Bon

ca. 325–380 in LRP with SLRP

Hayes form 61A

First half of 5th c.? No examples cited.

Seems to be ‘first half of 5th c.?’ as classed with Bonifay Sigillata Type 67

Seems to be ‘first half of 5th c.?’ as classed with Bonifay Sigillata Type 67

Bonifay Études 2004 comments

Hayes 61, variant Rougga = Bonifay Second half of 5th c. / or in layer Sigillata Type 68 of that date from Rougga

Hayes 61 variant Sidi Zahruni = Bonifay Sigillata Type 67

Hayes 61 Tripolitanian = Tripolitanian RSW, Hayes 3

Hayes 61 of Sitifis (?) = Février (1963) fig. 8

Bonifay Études 2004 references

Hayes form 61B1&B2

450–500? Bon

Hayes form 61, variant Rougga = Bonifay Sigillata Type 68

Atlante comments

A / B1 and A / B2: beg. of 5th c. (–mid 5th c.?) A / B3: first half of 5th c., late examples until ca. 480

400–450? Bon

Hayes form 61 variant Sidi Zahruni = Bonifay Sigillata Type 67

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

Hayes form 61A / B1&A 400–450? Bon / B2 400–480 Bon Hayes form A / B3

400–450? Bon

Hayes form 61 Tripolitanian = Tripolitanian RSW

Hayes form 61 of Sitifis 400–450? Bon

Hayes form 61

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.)

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

31

375–400 LRP

375–450 Atlante p. 87 quoting LRP and Michigan I p. 85.

Uncertain LRP

400–450 LRP

350–500 in LRP Bon

350–400 Bon

387.5–412.5 Bon

450–500 Bon

Hayes form 63

Hayes form 64

Hayes form 65

Hayes form 66

Hayes form 67

Hayes form 67A

Hayes form 67B

Hayes form 67C

ca. 360–470. First group ca. 360–420, second group ca. 400–450, third group ca. 450+. 67.29 rather later than these, perhaps ca. 460–90

66 is given as ‘early 5th c.’

65 is listed as ‘uncertain’

Early–mid 5th c.

Last quarter of 4th c.

ca. 350–425

Hayes 67 = Lamboglia D42 = p. 88: LRP is repeated and 10 individual variants are given more Bonifay Sigillata Type 41 specific dates, which I will not go into here, but see Bon listings below for variants

p. 120

p. 82: listed with Hayes 59 variants but it is not clear what chronology Atlante is giving it. The group of variants as a whole is given 320–400/420 which is actually the range for Hayes 59 in LRP.

p. 87: 64.1–2 is end of 4th to mid 5th c. quoting Hayes (1972) and Michigan I p. 85.

p. 86: 375–400 quoting Hayes and in context of 360–440 from an Italian excav. in Carthage (unpublished)

C: second half of 5th c., not appearing before mid-5th c.

B: end of 4th c. to beg. of 5th c.

A: second half of 4th c.

Hayes 62 / 64 = Fulford 6 = Bonifay Contexts from end of 4th c. to Sigillata Type 40 beg. of 5th c.

ca. 350–425 LRP

Hayes form 62

Hayes form 62 / 64 = 387.5–412.5 Bon Fulford 6 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 40 171 92

Hayes 61, variant Rougga = Bonifay Second half of 5th c. / or in layer Sigillata Type 68 of that date from Rougga

450–500? Bon

First half of 5th c.? No examples cited.

Bonifay Études 2004 comments

Hayes form 61, variant Rougga = Bonifay Sigillata Type 68

Bonifay Études 2004 references Hayes 61 variant Sidi Zahruni = Bonifay Sigillata Type 67

Atlante comments

400–450? Bon

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

Hayes form 61 variant Sidi Zahruni = Bonifay Sigillata Type 67

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.)

32 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

SLRP p. 485 67 / 71: late 4th–early 5th c.?

387.5–412.5? SLRP

ca. 370–425 LRP

ca. 425–450 LRP

387.5–450 LRP

350–430 LRP

Hayes form 67 / 71

Hayes form 68

Hayes form 69

Hayes form 70

Hayes form 71

387.5–475 LRP and Atlante citing ca. 420–475. Type B mainly late Moosberg

420–75 according E. Vaccaro pers. comm.

Hayes form 73

Hayes form 73A

Early 5th c.

400–412.5 LRP

71B: early 5th c.

387.5–400 Atlante, citing Sétif

Hayes form 72

71A: ca. 350–400/430

ca. 350–430 Atlante

70: 1st half of the 5th c. and possibly a little earlier

69: probably from the 2nd quarter of the 5th c.

ca. 370–425

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.)

p. 72 = Lamboglia 57: Hayes has 425–75. Moosberg in Germany has contexts of end of 4th c. with examples. 73A.1 might be one of the earliest. 73.10 found in context of first half of 5th c.

p. 72: beg of 5th c. (Hayes) Variant Hayes 72.1 seems slightly earlier (Hayes (1972) 121)

p. 71: 71B: only datable piece comes from context of end of 4th c. from Sétif.

p. 71: 71A: 375–400/420 ca. (Hayes)

p. 122: Hayes 70 n. 8–9 end of 4th to beg. of 5th c. acc. to Hayes p. 122: Hayes 70 n. 1, 7 is first half of 5th c. acc. Hayes. These dates are correct with LRP except that 70.9 is given as uncertain in LRP

p. 121: Hayes 68.4 and 68.1 370425 (Hayes) 68.607 probably until mid-5th c. (Hayes)

Atlante comments

Hayes 68

Bonifay Études 2004 references

Bonifay Études 2004 comments

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

33

Around 3rd quarter of 5th

450–500 Bon

ca. 420–50 LRP

ca. 425–75 LRP

ca. 425–75 LRP with SLRP

400–412.5 LRP

400–500? LRP

400–500? LRP

400–500 LRP, possibly 350–500 Bon

440–500 LRP

440–500 LRP

Hayes form 74

Hayes form 75

Hayes form 76

Hayes form 76A

Hayes form 76B

Hayes form 77

Hayes form 78

Hayes form 79

Hayes form 80

Hayes form 80A

Mid–late 5th c.

Mid–late 5th c. SLRP p. 516 Form 80 now also early 5th c.

Uncertain, probably 5th c.

Probably 5th c.

Probably 5th c.

SLRP: Early 5th c.

Form 76 is now called form 76A. It seems to be still c. 425–75: SLRP

ca. 425–75

ca. 420–50 for a single complete example called 75.1. Pieces with decoration on the rim may be slightly earlier.

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.)

Hayes 74 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 29

Bonifay Études 2004 references

p. 104

Hayes 80 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 43

Hayes 79 = Lamboglia D59 = p. 90 = Lamboglia 59: repeats LRP and adds that it occurs in an Bonifay Sigillata Type 42 unpublished context from the Italian Carthage excavations dating to after the end of 4th c. to beg. of 5th c. and not further than the end of 5th c.

p. 108 = Lamboglia 35 (?): repeats LRP and adds that occurs in a context of 360–440 ca. at Carthage (unpublished). The wiki list seems to erroneously take this context date as the pottery date range.

p. 120: repeats LRP

p. 90: repeats LRP but adds that found in destruction contexts of 465/68 from Conimbriga (Conimbriga 1975) and in a context of 360–440 of Italian mission at Carthage (unpublished)

p. 67: repeats LRP

p. 73: repeats LRP

Atlante comments

Mid to second half of 5th c. (stating that he is not changing the dating proposed by Hayes (1972) 128 and Mackensen (1993) 406).

Characteristic of contexts at Sidi Jdidi of second half of 4th c., confirming dating of Atlante and Hayes [This remark is odd as the dating of Hayes is 5th c.]

Second half of 5th c. contexts

Bonifay Études 2004 comments

34 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

Mid–late 5th c.

440–500 LRP

500–512.5 Atlante

440–500 LRP

440–500 LRP

440–500 LRP

430–500 LRP

450–500+ Bon

ca. 430–475 LRP

ca. 460–500+ LRP

440–460 Bon

ca. 440–500 LRP

440–500 LRP

440–460 LRP

450–500 LRP

487.5–512.5 LRP

450–512.5 LRP + Bon

Hayes form 80B

Hayes form 80B / 99

Hayes form 81

Hayes form 81A

Hayes form 81B

Hayes form 82

Hayes 82 / 87, dérivés

Hayes form 82A

Hayes form 82B

Hayes form 83

Hayes form 84

Hayes form 85

Hayes form 85A

Hayes form 85B

Hayes form 86

Hayes form 87

Form 86 is late 5th–early 6th, including for 86.1 in LRP

B: second half of 5th c.

A: mid-5th c.

ca. 440–500

ca. 420–460

B: ca. 460–500+

A: ca. 430–475

Forms 82–85 mainly from ca. 475 when found outside Central Tunisia

Second half of 5th c.

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.) Bonifay Études 2004 references

p. 73

p. 73

p. 69

p. 68

p. 68

p. 201: no dating offered though said to be derived from Hayes 84 p. 201: no dating offered though said to be derived from Hayes 84

Hayes 86, n° 2 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 74

p. 203: variants are second half of 5th or beg. of 6th c.

Mid-5th c. based on motifs used [1 example cited]

Attested at earliest in contexts of second half of 5th c. [no example cited]

Mid to second half of 5th c. (stating that he is not changing the dating proposed by Hayes (1972) 128 and Mackensen (1993) 406).

Bonifay Études 2004 comments

Hayes 86, n° 1 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 73

Hayes 85–165 89; not a sigillata type of Bonifay

Hayes 84–165 89; not a sigillata type of Bonifay

Hayes 83 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 28 165 89

Hayes 82 / 87, dérivés = Dore (2001) fig. 1.64, n° 22 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 77 203 107

Hayes 82–165 89

Hayes 81 = Bonifay Sigillata p. 104: Hayes 81 in a context of Type 44 173 92 360–440 at Carthage and other relating to the construction of the Theodosian Wall (also for Hayes 80)

p. 105: beg. of 6th c. (Hayes) Contradiction with LRP suggests Atlante’s source is not LRP / SLRP but Hayes pers. comm.

p. 104

Atlante comments

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

35

487.5–512.5 Bon

500–512.5 LRP

500–512.5 LRP

566–600 Bon

525–612.5 Bon

525–575 Bon

540–600 Bon

587.5–612.5 Bon

375–512.5 LRP + Atlante

375–412.5 LRP + Atlante

450–512.5 LRP

Hayes form 87A / 88

Hayes form 87B

Hayes form 87C

Hayes form 87C / 109

Hayes form 88

Hayes form 88A

Hayes form 88B

Hayes form 88C

Hayes form 89

Hayes form 89 A

Hayes form 89 B

540–560 Bon

587.5–612.5 Bon

350–650 based on LRP, not contradicted by Bon or Atlante

Hayes form 90A

Hayes form 90B

Hayes form 91

Hayes form 90

A: second half of 5th c.

450–500 LRP

Hayes form 87A

SLRP: Late 4th c. for flanged bowls of 91.30. LRP: A is mid–late 5th c. B: ca. 450–530 B / C: early 6th c. C: ca. 530–600+; ca. 600–650+

B: Mainly 2nd half of 6th c. and possibly later

A: Late 5th to early 6th c.

B: Probably mid 5th to early 6th c.

A: Early 5th c.

Early 6th c.

B / C: early 6th c.

B / C: early 6th c.

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.)

Bon date is based on modifying overall

See early Hayes 91 on p. 106 of Atlante (described below)

Central decades of 6th c.?

C: end of 6th c. to beg. 7th c.

B: mid–2nd half of 6th c.

A: 2nd quart to mid-6th c.

87C / 109: last third of 6th c.

87A / 88: end of 5th to beg. of 6th c.

Bonifay Études 2004 comments

End of 6th to beg. of 7th c.

Hayes 90A = Bonifay Sigillata Type 33

Hayes 88 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 46

Hayes form 87C / 109

Hayes 87A = Bonifay Sigillata Type 45

Bonifay Études 2004 references

p. 97: Hayes 90 n. 2 second half of Hayes 90B = Bonifay Sigillata 6th c. to beg, of 7th c. (Hayes) Type 47

p. 97: Hayes 90 n. 1 end of 5th to beg. of 6th c.? (Hayes)

p. 97: repeats LRP

p. 162: 89A from the last 25 years of 4th c. majority attested around 400 (Salomonson). Beg. 5th c. (Hayes) p. 97

p. 93: beg. 6th c. (Hayes)

p. 93: beg. 6th c.? (Hayes)

p. 91: beg. 6th c. (Hayes). Attested in unpublished contexts of fattoria romana of Nador (Tipasa) together with form D2

Atlante comments

36 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

pp. 105–106: production ceased ca. 500 according to Hayes (pers. comm. or publication not cited).

Missing

375–530: LRP plus Bonifay and B LRP: ca. 450–530 Atlante citing ?pers. comm. from SLRP: Seems to be first half of 5th c. Hayes and already existing before 400: p. 516

Hayes form 91A / B

Hayes form 91B

Hayes 91B late = Bonifay 450?–550? Bon Sigillata Type 51

Hayes 91A = Bonifay Sigillata Type 49

400–450 Bon

Hayes form 91A

Hayes 91B tardive = Bonifay Sigillata Type 51

Hayes 91B = Bonifay Sigillata Type 50

Hayes 91, dérivés = Bonifay Sigillata Type 94

Hayes form 91, derivative of Bonifay Sigillata Type 94

pp. 105–106: documented at Moosberg in a context between 383 and 406. Also in a stratum of mid 5th c. date or a little later at Conimbriga, in destruction levels of 465/68 and in subsequent levels. According to Hayes (pers. comm. or publication not cited), these ceased production towards 530.

Hayes 91 of Sitifis (?) = Février (1963) fig. 5

Hayes form 91 of Sitifis (?) = Février 1963, fig. 5

Contexts of second half of 5th c. and first half of 6th c.

Central decades of 5th c. [but Bonifay is only discussing a single specimen]

First half of 5th c. [one example cited]

First half of 6th c.?

End of 6th c. to beg. of 7th c. Hayes 91 variant Sperlonga 64 = Atlante XLIX, 10 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 53

Hayes 91, variant Sidi Khalifa = Bonifay Sigillata Type 78

A: Mid–late 5th c.

Bonifay Études 2004 comments

Hayes 91 précoce = Atlante XLVIII, Second half of 4th c. in context 11; = Bonifay Sigillata Type 48 from Oudnha, same as Atlante

Bonifay Études 2004 references

Hayes form 91, variant Sidi Khalifa Bonifay Sigillata Type 78

500–550 Bon

p. 106: found in contexts of 320–360 and 360–440 and in contexts posterior to 350 / 60 (Italian archaeological mission at Carthage)

Atlante comments

Hayes 91, variant Sidi Aïch = Stern XXXV, 203 108

587.5–612.5 Bon

Hayes form 91 variant Sperlonga 64 = Atlante XLIX, 10 Bonifay Sigillata Type 53

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

Hayes form 91, variant Sidi Aïch = Stern XXXV

350–400 Atlante and Bon

Hayes form 91 précoce = Atlante XLVIII, 11; Bonifay Sigillata Type 48

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.)

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

37

B / C: early 6th c. LRP

500–512.5 LRP

ca. 530–600+ LRP

600–650 LRP

400?–475 LRP

ca. 400–540 LRP

400–500? LRP / Hayes (1977) / Atlante

450–540 Tortorella (1987) contra 500–540 LRP from Hayes form 93B LRP and Hayes (1977); Bon says Tortorella (1987) 305 supports a start nothing. date from ca. 450, based on Carthage excavations, contra Hayes (1977) 283 (not seen) with chronology from before 450 without supporting data.

487.5–512.5

500–550 LRP

400–540 LRP with Atlante

Hayes form 91B / C

Hayes form 91C

Hayes form 91D

Hayes form 92

Hayes form 93

Hayes form 93A

Hayes 93B–Waagé 859

Hayes form 94

Hayes form 95

Hayes form 96

ca. 490–540

First half of 6th c.

SLRP p. 486: 93B, 94B variants: possible late 5th c. date suggested by the stamps, though one from PortVendres could be a good deal earlier

Late 5th to early 6th c.

LRP: Mostly 5th c. SLRP: form 93A is earlier [does not say by how much]

ca. 470–540

About mid–5th c. or earlier

Forms 91.3–6, 8–10 (Karanis) are first half of 5th c.

D: ca. 600–650

C: ca. 530–600+

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.)

p. 110: ‘initial chronology’ now proposed by Hayes for certain forms of ca. 400–450, featuring feet, which in his earlier book of 1972 had been dated not before the end of 5th to beg. of 6th c. For this new dating Atlante cites Hayes (1977) 283 form 93f.)

Supposedly p. 101 [I could not find it in Atlante]

p. 102: notes that Hayes (1977) 283 retains the possibility of an ‘initial chronology’ of 400–450.

p. 122: repeats LRP

p. 105: repeats LRP

p. 105: repeats LRP

p. 105: not listed with other Hayes 91 variants

Atlante comments

Hayes 92

Hayes 91D = Bonifay Sigillata Type 54

Hayes 91C = Bonifay Sigillata Type 52

Bonifay Études 2004 references

7th c. [but Bonifay only presents a single specimen, so I will not modify the overall date given by LRP]

Central decades of 6th c. [but Bonifay only presents a single specimen, so I will not modify the overall date given by LRP]

Bonifay Études 2004 comments

38 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

ca. 490–550

400–550 LRP

487.5–612.5 Bon

487.5–512.5 Bon

487.5–550 Bon

587.5–612.5 Bon

487.5–612.5 Bon

Hayes form 97

Hayes form 98

Hayes form 98A

Hayes form 98B

Hayes form 98C

Hayes form 99

99 starts 465/68 [so type A?]

Early 6th c.

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.) Bonifay Études 2004 references

Hayes 99 = Bonifay Sigillata p. 109: Hayes 99 nn. 1, 7–8, 12 Type 55 is “510–540 circa” acc. to Hayes. Lamb. 1 is 530–580 according to Hayes Hayes 99, nn. 18, 22–23 is 560/580–620 according to Hayes. pp. 109–110: attested at Conimbriga in the destruction levels of 456/68, although it is thought that the attribution to these levels could be erroneous Conimbriga (1975) 270–71. p. 259: beg. of this production of Hayes 99 could be attributed to the 5th c., according to Atlante here, noting that it appears in the material of Karanis, dated recently by Hayes to the first half of the 5th c. But Conimbriga deposits now considered unreliable.

p. 112: gives Hayes 98A as “beg. of Hayes 98 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 58 6th c.? (Hayes)” noting however dating of form Atlante, tav. LI, 9 / Hayes 94, n. 4.

p. 111: at Conimbriga, in destruction levels of 465/68 and in subsequent levels. J. Hayes in A propos des ceramiques de Conimbriga Coimbra (1975) 84 suggests now possible an initial chronology between 400 and 450 for cups with feet, which in his book are dated to end of 5th to beg. of 6th c. (citing Hayes (1977) 283). But Conimbriga deposits now considered unreliable.

Atlante comments

Bon ignores the Karanis evidence cited by Atlante, perhaps because he feels it is erroneous

C: end of 6th to beg. of 7th c.

B: end of 5th to middle of 6th c.

A: end of 5th to middle of 6th c.

Bonifay Études 2004 comments

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

39

99A: 465/68 or c. 510–540

487.5–550 Bon

525–612.5 Bon

587.5–612.5 Bon

550–600 Bon

587.5–612.5 LRP

535–600 E. Vacarro pers. comm. 2017

540?–625? LRP + Atlante

500–575 LRP

500–575 LRP

500–575 LRP

Hayes form 99A

Hayes form 99B

Hayes form 99C

Hayes form 99D

Hayes form 100

Hayes form 101

Hayes form 102

Hayes form 103

Hayes form 103A

Hayes form 103B

Hayes 104 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 56

Hayes form 104

487.5–650 Bon

Hayes 103, variant Sidi Khalifa = Bonifay Sigillata Type 79

Hayes 103, variant Sidi 500–600? Bon Khalifa Bonifay Sigillata Type 79

Hayes 101, late variant = Bonifay Sigillata Type 87

Hayes 99, variants tardives = Bonifay Sigillata Type 86

Bonifay Études 2004 references

Hayes 103, variant Rougga = Bonifay Sigillata Type 84

p. 99: repeats Hayes

p. 99: repeats Hayes

p. 113: “end of 6th–beg. of 7th c.? (Hayes)”. Atlante notes here that the dating Hayes needs to be corrected because the form is documented at Carthage in unpublished contexts of 500–550 of 530–575/600 and of second half of 6th c.

p. 109: nothing more to add to what said above for Hayes 99.

Atlante comments

Hayes 103, variant 450–700 Bon Rougga Bonifay Sigillata Type 84

ca. 500 to third quarter 6th c. 103.1 (part of 103a) may be late 5th c.

Late 6th to early 7th c.

Mid–late 6th c. SLRP: “A fairly low-footed specimen occurs in a late 7th century deposit at Carthage”

Late 6th to early 7th c.

ca. 560/80–620

ca. 530–580

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.)

In contexts of 6th c., but not impossible that appears at end of 5th c.

Second half of 5th c. to 7th c.

p. 210: 7th c.? suggested for decoration of group 2 in lustre

p. 210: 7th c.? suggested for decoration of group 2 in lustre

D: ‘80B / 99’: second half of 6th c.

C: end of 6th to 7th c.

B: second quarter of 6th c. for beg. of 7th c.

A: end of 5th to mid 6th c.

Bonifay Études 2004 comments

40 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

550–650 Bon

Hayes form 104C

Hayes 104, variant Sidi 500–600? Bon Khalifa Bonifay Sigillata Type 80

540–600 Bon

Hayes form 104B C: ca. 550–625

B: ca. 570–600, with late variants to 625+

p. 94: 500–580 ca. (Hayes). Initial chronology discussed in Hayes in A propos des céramiques de Conimbriga Coimbra (1975) 84). Attested at Conimbriga in destruction levels of 465/68 although it is possible that the attribution of the form was erroneous (Conimbriga (1975) 270)

A: ca. 530–580

A1: 487.5–433 Bon A2: 525–560 Bon A3: 587.5–650 Bon

Hayes form 104A

p. 259: it seems possible to back date this form into the 5th c. for the beg. of production, which is attested at Carthage in contexts before or immediately posterior the wall of Theodosius, in any case prior to the Vandal invasion of 439 (unpublished data from the Italian Mission). It is also known at Rome in the fill of a room of the Schola Praeconum of second quarter of 5th c. based on the many coins found. It is also known in the destruction levels of 465/68 at Conimbriga (A propos des céramiques de Conimbriga Coimbra (1975) 72 and 79) But Conimbriga deposits now considered unreliable.

p. 96: ca. mid 7th c. citing Hayes, but not specifying which source.

Mid-7th c.

640–660 LRP

Hayes form 104.22

Atlante comments

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.)

Hayes 104, variant Sidi Khalifa = Bonifay Sigillata Type 80

Bonifay Études 2004 references

6th c. (only one example presented)

Mid 6th to mid 7th c.

Mid–2nd half of 6th c.

A1: end of 5th c. to first third of 6th c. A2: second quarter to mid 6th c. A3: end of 6th c. to mid 7th c.

Bonifay Études 2004 comments

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

41

A: 587.5–650 Bon

Hayes form 109A

ca. 580/600–mid 7th c. SLRP: form 109 is now c. 610/20–c. 680–700

p. 214: states that Hayes LRP gives it as 580/600–650 and adds that Hayes now dates the form from 610/20 and ca. 680/70 (Michigan IV p. 68)

Hayes 109 = Bonifay Sigillata p. 214: states that Hayes (1972) gives it as 580/600–650. Then says Type 60 that Hayes now supports a dating between “610/620 and 680/700 circa” (Michigan IV p. 68)

Hayes 108 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 59

587.5–712.5 Bon

p. 112: repeats Hayes LRP

Hayes form 109

early 7th c.

600–612.5 LRP

Hayes form 108

p. 102: repeats Hayes LRP

Hayes 107, variants tardives = Bonifay Sigillata Type 92

ca. 600–650

600–650 LRP

p. 99: repeats the chronology of Hayes LRP but adds a question mark at the end.

Hayes form 107

ca. 600–660+

Hayes 105, dérivés = Bonifay Sigillata Type 95

Hayes 105, variants tardives = Bonifay Sigillata Type 88

Bon p. 183 notes that variant A concerns Hayes 105.2–7 including Hayes 105.4 = Waage (1948) 47 pl.7, shaped 802f.

Hayes 105 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 57

Bonifay Études 2004 references

Hayes 106, late variant = Bonifay Sigillata Type 91

600–660+ LRP

p. 96: repeats Hayes LRP. Does not add any precision with the examples it cites.

Atlante comments

Hayes 106, late variant Bonifay Sigillata Type 91

Hayes form 106

Hayes form 105, deriva- 687.5–712.5 Bon tive of Bonifay Sigillata Type 95

ca. 580/600–660+ LRP Hayes form 105, late variants Bonifay Sigillata Type 88

A: 587.5–650 Bon B: 640–660 Bon C: 650–700 Bon ca. 580/600–660+ in LRP

ca. 580/600–660+; early variants late 6th c.

Hayes form 105

587.5–700 Bon

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.)

A: end of 6th to mid 7th c.

7th c.

p. 210: 7th c.? suggested for decoration of group 2 in lustre

p. 210: 7th c.? suggested for decoration of group 2 in lustre

End of 7th to beg. of 8th c.

A: end of 6th c. to first half of 7th c. B: central decades of 7th c. C: second half of 7th c.

Bonifay Études 2004 comments

42 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

C: 650–700 Bon

Hayes form 109C These three classes are not in LRP / SLRP

587.5–650 LRP

400?–500? SLRP

387.5–412.5 SLRP

Hayes form 111

Hayes form 168

Hayes form 169

Hayes form 181, n° 1 = Bon Cookingware Type 4

450–512.5 SLRP

Hayes form 110

Hayes form 109, variants tardives Bonifay Sigillata Type 93

B: 640–712.5 Bon

Hayes form 109B

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.)

pp. 114–115: states that Hayes LRP gives it as 550–650? Adds that Hayes now thinks it is an earlier version of 12 / 110 and estimates a possible chronology of 5th c. (Michigan I p. 87). Found in Carthage contexts of the end of 5th to beg. 6th c., of after the second half of 6th c. (Italian excav. unpublished) and in a context of the 6th c. (Michigan I).

Atlante comments

Forms 195–97 are early.

SLRP: 169: late 4th or early 5th c.

SLRP: 168: 5th / 6th contexts

Not in Atlante

Not in Atlante

111: late 6th or first half of 7th c. sug- pp. 97–98: end of the 6th to midgested based on a parallel 7th c.? (Hayes)

Forms 110–181, 183–194, 198–200 are mainly early. 112–20, 128–30, 141, 149–50 166–69 are ‘vacant’

110: possibly mid-6th to mid-7th c. based on piece from Istanbul context SLRP p. 487: form 110 should be same dates as form 12 / 102 so mid 5th– early 6th c.

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

C: second half of the 7th c.(?)

B: mid–second half of 7th c., late examples beg. of 8th c. (?)

Bonifay Études 2004 comments

Hayes 181, n° 1 = Bon Cookingware All from context of advanced Type 4 2nd c.

Hayes 109, variants tardives = Bonifay Sigillata Type 93

Bonifay Études 2004 references

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

43

Ditto

387.5?–450? Bon

A: 100–200 Bon B: 197.5–250 Bon C: 200–300 Bon late variant 250–400 Bon

Hayes form 183 late variant CULINAIRE (C / A) = Bon Amph Type 14

Hayes form 184 = Bon Cookingware Type 7

p. 223: Atlante seems to mix up various specimens of different date, without much clarity, so I prefer Bonifay

300–400? Bon (one example cited)

250–400 Bon (one example cited)

Hayes form 183 = Bon Cookingware Type 15

p. 213: Atlante discussion seems out of date and bears little relationship to Bonifay, so I follow Bonifay.

Hayes form 183, late variant Tripolitanian

A: 140–160 Bon B: 187.5–300 Bon C: 187.5?–300 Bon D: 300–400 Bon

Hayes form 182

pp. 214–15: Atlante discussion is simple and out of date compared to Bonifay. Thus, I follow Bonifay

Atlante comments

Ditto

A: 87.5–150 Bon B: 200–250 Bon C: 187.5–312.5 Bon D: 350–450 Bon

Hayes form 181 production B

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

Hayes form 183, variant 200–300 (Tripolitania) Bon Tripolitanian = Bon Cookingware Type 17

A: 100–112.5 B: 187.5–350 (?) C: 387.5–450

Hayes form 181 production A

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.) Bonifay Études 2004 comments

Second half of 3rd c. or 4th c.

Hayes 183 = Bon Cookingware Type 15

From contexts of end of 4th to first half of 5th c.

Variant A: 2nd c. Variant B: end of 2nd to mid-3rd c. Variant C: 3rd c. Late variants: second half of 3rd–4th c.

Hayes 184 = Bon Cookingware Type 7

Comes from 4th c. context Hayes 183 late variant = Bon Cookingware Type 14

Hayes 183, late variant Tripolitanian

3rd c. in Tripolitania

A: mid 2nd c. B: end of 2nd to 3rd c. C: end of 2nd? to 3rd c. D: 4th c.

Hayes 182 = Ostia I, 17 = Bon Cookingware Type 6

Hayes 183, variant Tripolitanian = Bon Cookingware Type 17

A: end 1st? to first half of 2nd B: first half of 3rd c.? C: end 2nd c. to 3rd c. (beg. of 4th c.) D: second half of 4th c.–first half of 5th c.

Hayes 181, production B = Ostia I, 15 = Bon Cookingware Type 5

Hayes 181, production A = Atlante A: beg. of 2nd c. CVI, 4 = Bon Cookingware Type 3 B: end of 2nd c. to mid 4th c.? C: end of 4th c. to mid-5th c.

Bonifay Études 2004 references

44 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

Hayes form 193 = Ostia I, 273 = Bon Cookingware Type 2

300–400? Atlante + Bon

387.5–412.5 Bon

Bassin Carthage LR Basin 1 = Fulford Jar 2 Coarseware Type 29

‘Blacktop ware’ is explained in LRP p. 205 (‘Niemeyer’s Schwarzrandware’) as being Hayes ARS 191–200.

A: 250–ca. 300 B: ca. 300–400?

Hayes form 185, n° 3 = Couvercle Pupput 1 = Uzita 13 = Bon Cookingware Type 22

p. 222: attested in first half of 3rd c. at Ostia (Ostia I and III)

p. 212: Ostia I fig. 20 = Hayes 185.3; says that it is attested in a deposit of the first half of 3rd c. (Ostia I).

Hayes 193 = Ostia I, 273 = Bon Cookingware Type 2

Bassin Carthage LR Basin 1 = Fulford Jar 2 Coarseware Type 29

Hayes 185, n° 3 = Couvercle Pupput 1 = Uzita 13 = Bon Cookingware Type 22

One example comes from the same context of the end of 4th c. as Hayes 23.4. This form is generally dated to 3rd c. (Atlante I, 222).

These two variants [A and B] are known in contexts of end of 4th c. and first half of 5th c. at Carthage.

Variant A seems to appear from mid 3rd c. It is followed by Variant B at the end of 3rd c. or beg. of 4th c. and probably during all of the 4th c. (6?).

No dating offered

LRP does not suggest a date

Hayes 185, variant = Bon Cookingware Type 16

Hayes form 185, variant = Bon Cookingware Type 16

Variant A seems old: it appears at Pupput in a group of finds of the end of 1st c. or beg. of 2nd c. Variant B example (5) and variant C examples (7–9) come from contexts end of 2nd c. and mid 3rd c. at Pupput and Nabeul. Variant D is attested in a context of 4th c, at El Jem (11).

Hayes 185 = Bon Cookingware Type 9

Hayes form 185 = Bon Cookingware Type 9

A 87.5?–112.5? Bon B 187.6?–250? Bon C 187.6?–250? Bon D 300?–400? Bon

In context of mid-4th c. (one example presented p. 219)

Regularly in contexts of second half of 5th c. (1, 4–5).

Bonifay Études 2004 comments

Hayes 184, variant Tripolitanian

Bonifay Études 2004 references

Hayes form 184, variant 340?–360? Bon Tripolitanian

Atlante comments Hayes 184, dérivés = Bon Cookingware Type 8

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

Hayes form 184, dérivés 450?–500? Bon = Bon Cookingware Type 8

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.)

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

45

LRP: date uncertain but probably same as 182, which is given as second half of 2nd c. to second half of 3rd c.

150?–250? LRP

A 150?–250? Bon B 100?–250? Bon Les variants à bord épaissi 300–412.5 Bon

187.5–450 Bon

187.5–300 (?) LRP

Missing

Hayes form 195

Hayes form 196

Hayes form 197

Hayes form 199

Hayes form 205

Peacock et al. 1990, fig. 13.19 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 34

Salomonson A17 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 16

Salomonson A3 = Bonifay Sigillata 2nd c. Type 17 Salomonson C9 (dérivés) = Bonifay Sigillata Type S

400?–600? Bon (unsure)

87.5–150 Bon

100–200 Bon

200–300 Bon

= Bon Amph Type 26: 3rd c.

End of 1st to first half of 2nd c.

p. 166: this form appears at Rougga and Marseille in contexts of 6th c. and later; this dating is hard to accept stylistically because the likely production place (Djilma—Henchir el-Guellal) does not seem to be active after the end of 5th c.

Mid or second half of 6th c.

Peacock et al. 1990, fig. 7.12 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 32

540–600 Bon

No dating available

p. 225: different African cities give forms from end of 2nd c. or 3rd c. (Pupput and Nabuel) to end of 4th and first half of 5th c. at Carthage.

pp. 225–227: A 150?–250? Bon B 100?–250? Bon Les variants à bord épaissi 300–412.5 Bon

Hayes 196 = Ostia I, 261 = Ostia III, 332 = Bon Cookingware Type 11

Hayes 197 = Ostia III, 267 = Bon Cookingware Type 10

Dating not clear from Bon

Bonifay Études 2004 comments

Hayes 195 = Ostia I, 264 = Bon Cookingware Type 12

Bonifay Études 2004 references

Ostia III, 156 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 23

Atlante comments

550–600 Bon

TS chiara / africana D has few fixed points after mid–late 5th c. until early 6th c.

Not in LRP or SLRP

Late 2nd–3rd c.(?) LRP

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.)

46 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

Occasionally I have preferred to use LRP over Atlante here as it seems that Atlante is sometimes being rough with dates derived from Hayes without providing new information. When very different date rages are offered I follow Atlante.

LRC C (Phocaean Red Slip)

Sidi Jdidi 1 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 69 Sidi Jdidi 2 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 72 Sidi Jdidi 3 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 71 = Hayes 76 A, B, C Sidi Jdidi 4 = Hayes 88 / 109 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 81 Sidi Jdidi 7 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 82 Sidi Jdidi 8 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 83 Sidi Jdidi 8, late variant = Bonifay Sigillata Type 90 Sperlonga 39 = Bonifay Sigillata Type 24

400–500 Bon

450–500 Bon

587.5–700 Bon

550–612.5 (?) Bon

600–700 Bon

600–700? Bon

Undated Bon

Bonifay Études 2004 references

400–500 Bon

Atlante comments Salomonson C9 (dérivés) = Bonifay Sigillata Type S

Hayes LRP / SLRP remarks

300–400 Bon

Common forms of ARS Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.)

Undated

7th c.?

7th c., with one variant with a smaller foot and a guilloche decoration might by 6th c.

Second half of 6th or beg. of 7th c. (?)

End of 6th c. to 7th c.

All sherds from contexts of second half of 5th c.

5th c.

5th c.

= Bon Amph Type 27: 4th c. contexts

Bonifay Études 2004 comments

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

47

Dates which I adopt

387.5–475 LRP

387.5–412.5 LRP

400–475 LRP

400–450 LRP

400–475 LRP

370–460 LRP

370–460 LRP

370?–460? LRP

370–450 Atlante

400–ca. 550 LRP + SLRP

400–450 LRP

ca. 440–475 Atlante

440–90 LRP

Missing

Common forms

Hayes form 1

Hayes form 1A

Hayes form 1B

Hayes form 1C

Hayes form 1D

Hayes form 2

Hayes form 2A

Hayes form 2B

Hayes form 2C

Hayes form 3

Hayes form 3A

Hayes form 3B

Hayes form 3B / C

Hayes form 3B / D

Checklist (cont.)

p. 232

p. 232

p. 232

pp. 231–232

Atlante (which simply copies out Hayes LRP, except where noted)

Forms 3B / C and 3B / D are not in LRP or SLRP

3B and 3C are c. 450–90 (middle of 5th c. if not a little before, with one specimen 460–490)

3B.1: same period as 3A so ‘before 450 but start date is uncertain, but after 400’

3A: before 450 but start date is uncertain, but after 400

SLRP: May have emerged close to 400, according to recent finds from Italy (p. 526)

Variant C appears to be early: no. 7 was found together with mid–late 4th c. material (c. 3 suggested as ca. 425–50)

p. 232: 460–475 ca.

p. 232

p. 232

p. 232: 370–450

Not clear in LRP, but likely same as 2A p. 232

2A from Athenian Agora around 370, p. 232 another around 400, another 425–60

1D: early–third quarter of 5th c.

1C: uncertain, perhaps first half of 5th c.

1B: early–third quarter of 5th c.

1A: late 4th–early 5th c.

Hayes LRP comments [and SLRP when specified]

48 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

Dates which I adopt

460–475 ca. Atlante

487.5–500 LRP

487.5–500 Atlante

475–600 Atlante

500–600 Atlante

500–600 Atlante

500–600 Atlante

425–450 LRP

460–550 LRP

460–500 ca. Atlante

500–550 LRP

500–512.5 LRP

487.5–512.5 LRP

450–500 Atlante

ca. 520–600 LRP

ca. 570–660+ LRP

Common forms

Hayes form 3C

Hayes form 3D

Hayes form 3E

Hayes form 3E / F

Hayes form 3F

Hayes form 3G

Hayes form 3H

Hayes form 4

Hayes form 5

Hayes form 5A

Hayes form 5B

Hayes form 6

Hayes form 7

Hayes form 8

Hayes form 9

Hayes form 10

Checklist (cont.)

p. 232: 3E is late 5th c.

p. 232

p. 232: 3C is 460–475 ca.

Atlante (which simply copies out Hayes LRP, except where noted)

10: c. 570–660+ 10 is c. 570–660+ 10A–B: late 6th-early 7th c. 10C: being early-mid 7th c.

ca. 520–600

8: second half of 5th c., and possibly slightly later

7: rims are early 6th c. and bases (perhaps this form) are end 5th–early 6th c.

6: early 6th c.

First half of 6th c.

ca. 460–500

ca. second quarter of 5th c.

3H: first 3rd of the 6th c.?

3G: ca. 525–550 based on Athenian Agora

p. 232

p. 232

p. 232: form 8 is second half of 5th c.

p. 232

p. 232: form ‘6 / 7’ is end of 5th to early 6th c.

p. 232

p. 232: form 5A 460–ca. 500

p. 232

p. 232

p. 232: 6th c.

p. 232: 6th c.

3F: ca. 500–ca. 550 based on Antioch p. 232: 6th c. and Athenian Agora.

3E: last quarter of 5th c. to just after 500 based on a few sherds

3D: late 5th c.

Hayes LRP comments [and SLRP when specified]

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

49

570–612.5 Atlante

570–612.5 Atlante

600–650 Atlante

Hayes form 10A

Hayes form 10B

Hayes form 10C

Dates which I adopt

387.5–475 LRP

500–550 Atlante

400–550 LRP

475–550 LRP

400–500? LRP

550–600 ca. Atlante

500–600? LRP

550–612.5 LRP

500–600? Atlante

Classification

Hayes form 1

Hayes form 1 / 2

Hayes form 2

Hayes form 3

Hayes form 4

Hayes form 5

Hayes form 6

Hayes form 7

Hayes form 8

LR D (Cypriot RSW)

Dates which I adopt

Common forms

Checklist (cont.)

p. 239

p. 239

p. 239

p. 239: second half of 6th c. ca.

Form 8: mainly late 6th / early 7th c. according to SLRP

p. 239: 6th c.?

Form 7: mainly second half 6th–early p. 239: second half of 6th to beg. of 7th c. 7th c. ca.

Form 6: perhaps 6th c.

Form 5: mid–late 6th c.

Form 4: no good dating evidence, but p. 239 is possibly 5th c.

Form 3: third quarter of 5th–second quarter 6th c.

Form 2: mainly late 5th–early 6th c. but production from early 5th–mid 6th c.

p. 239: form 1 / 2 referring to Hayes 2 n .14 is first half of 6th c.

p. 239

Occasionally I have preferred to use LRP over Atlante here as it seems that Atlante is sometimes being rough with dates derived from Hayes without providing new information. When very different date rages are offered I follow Atlante.

All dates are from LRP except when SLRP is mentioned

Form 1: late 4th c. (or earlier)–about third quarter of 5th c.

Atlante (which simply copies out Hayes LRP, except where noted)

p. 232 first half of 7th c.

p. 232: 10B is 570–beg. of 7th c.

p. 232: 10A is 570–beg. of 7th c.

Atlante (which simply copies out Hayes LRP, except where noted)

LRP / SLRP comments

Early–mid 7th c.

Late 6th to early 7th c.

Late 6th to early 7th c.

Hayes LRP comments [and SLRP when specified]

50 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

550–600 LRP + Atlante

580–700 Atlante

580/600–700 Atlante

580/600–700 Atlante

ca. 550–650+ LRP

ca. 640–660 LRP

Hayes form 9A

Hayes form 9B

Hayes form 9C / 10

Hayes form 10

Hayes form 11

Hayes form 12

p. 357: first example is probably not posterior to the 3rd c. p. 358: no dating.

Atlante VI, variant = Bon ?–300? Bon Lamp Type 41

Atlante VII = Bon Lamp 350–460 Bon total range Type 42

p. 357: no dating for Bon, with Bailey proposing 4th c.

300–400 Bailey

p. 353: one example from a context of the second half of the 3rd c. and first half of the 4th c.

Atlante VI = Bon Lamp Type 40

?250–?350 Bon

Atlante IV = Bon Lamp Type 38

p. 353: two examples from Nabeul come from a context of the second quarter or middle of the 3rd c., a date which matches ceramic types of pâte claire engobée known for the same type of lamp (see Bon Lamp Type 11).

p. 354: no dating confirmed.

225–260 Bon

Atlante I = Bon Lamp Type 37

Details from Bonifay (selected, only which I need)

Form 12: about mid 7th c.

Form 11: ca.550–650+

Form 10: from around mid 7th c.

Form 9C: early to mid 7th c. (ending 660+ it seems)

Form 9B: late 6th to early 7th c.

Form 9A: late 6th to early 7th c.

LRP / SLRP comments

Atlante V = Bon Lamp Type 39

Dates which I adopt

Lamps in Bonifay (Atlante forms only)

Lamps

Dates which I adopt

Classification

Checklist (cont.)

p. 239: mid 7th c. ca

p. 239: 550–650 ca.

p. 239: now consider to be the same as Hayes 9C Atlante, 580/600–end of 7th c.

p. 239: Hayes 9C / Hayes 10 is 580/600–end of 7th c.

p. 239: 9B is 580/600–end of 7th c.

p. 239: 9A is 550–600 ca.

Atlante (which simply copies out Hayes LRP, except where noted)

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

51

400?–450? Bon

Atlante VIII A1a–b / A2a = Bon Lamp Type 45

—

425–460 (?) Bon

425–450 Bon

Atlante VIII B / IX = Bon Lamp Type 51

Atlante VIII C1 / X = Bon Lamp Type 61

Atlante VIII C1a–b = Bon Lamp Type 46

p. 364: no dating offered p. 366: second quarter of 5th c. based on 2 examples

425–50 Bon

450–512.5 Bon variant D6 beg. in 425 Bon

Atlante VIII C2a–b = Bon Lamp Type 47

Atlante VIII C2c–d = Bon Lamp Type 49

Atlante VIII D = Bon Lamp Type 50

p. 368: mainly in contexts of second half of 5th c., and beg. of 6th c. Stratigraphic position suggests an earlier date for variant D6, in the second quarter of 5th c.

p. 366: Carthage examples dated to the 2nd half of 5th c. south Gallic imitation from Marseilles in second quarter or mid 5th c.

Atlante VIII C1c–d–e = 425–450 Bon Bon Lamp Type 48

p. 364: second quarter of 5th c. based on two sites (Carthage and wreck of Port Miou)

p. 391: second quarter or mid 5th c. (?)

p. 370: No dating

350?–400? Bon (with drilled p. 358: examples with a drilled handle handle) (anse forée) are oldest at Nabuel from 400?–500? Bon (with full handle) second half or end of 4th c. Those with a full handle are later. They occur on the same site in levels of the first half of the 5th c.

p. 359: second half of 4th to first half of 5th

p. 364: first half of 5th c. at Nabuel. Bon is sceptical of 4th c. beg. for these lamps

Details from Bonifay (selected, only which I need)

Atlante VIII B = Bon Lamp Type 43

Atlante VIII A1c / A2b = 350–450 Bon Bon Lamp Type 44

Dates which I adopt

Lamps in Bonifay (Atlante forms only)

Checklist (cont.)

52 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

450–550 Bon

440–460 Bon

400–700 Bon

Atlante X A, groupe C3 = Bon Lamp Type 55

Atlante X A, groupe C4 = Bon Lamp Type 56

Atlante X A, groupe C5 = Bon Lamp Type 57

p. 390: similar to lamps of C2 group of second half of the 5th c. and beg. of 6th c. p. 390: no dating

Atlante X B = Bon Lamp 450?–512.5? Bon Type 58

Atlante X D = Bon Lamp Type 59

p. 388: 5th to 7th c.

p. 388: central decades of 6th c.?

p. 386: second half of 5th to first half of 6th c.

p. 382–83: second quarter of 5th to end of 5th c. evoked from few dated examples

p. 370: B and C appear in the Baths of Laberii at Oudhna, likely dating to the last third of 5th c. on suggestive evidence (they are not covered in calcite like earlier finds, relating to abandonment).

425?–500? Bon

466.6–500 Bon

Atlante IX B–C = Bon Lamp Type 52

p. 417: first 3 are second third of 5th c. Nos 4–8 date from the end of the production period, from the second half of 7th c.? Sherds from Rougga, accompanied by a ceramic mould, come from post-Byzantine contexts of 8th c. date.

Atlante X A, groupe C2 = Bon Lamp Type 54

433–?700 Bon

Atlante VIII–IX–X, dérivés = Bon Lamp Type 71

p. 391: dating of these lamps 1–4 overlaps (recoupe) those of Atlante VIII D. Dating to the half of 5th c. (supra, = Bon Lamp Type 50).

p. 372: no date given

450–500 Bon

Atlante VIII D / X = Bon Lamp Type 62

Details from Bonifay (selected, only which I need)

Atlante X A, groupe C1 = Bon Lamp Type 53

Dates which I adopt

Lamps in Bonifay (Atlante forms only)

Checklist (cont.)

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

53

487.5?–512.5? Bon

450?–500? Bon

A: 440–460 (?) Bon B: 450–500 Bon C: ? Bon

A: 487.5–512.5 Bon B: 540–560 Bon

487.5–575 Bon

587.5?–650? Bon

587.5?–700 Bon

A: 687.5+ Bon B: no dating Bon C: 587.5–650 Bon

587.5?–612.5?

Atlante X D2 = Bon Lamp Type 72

Atlante X précoce = Bon Lamp Type 63

Atlante X, groupe D1 = Bon Lamp Type 64

Atlante X, groupe D2 = Bon Lamp Type 65

Atlante X, groupe D3 = Bon Lamp Type 66

Atlante X, groupe D4 = Bon Lamp Type 67

Atlante X tardif à décors estompés = Bon Lamp Type 69

Atlante X tardif à décors linéaires = Bon Lamp Type 70

Atlante X tardif à décors saillants = Bon Lamp Type 68

Atlante XI B1 = Bon Lamp Type 73

Atlante XI A1b / X A1d / XI B1b / = Bon Lamp Type 77

Atlante XI = Bon Lamp Type 60

Dates which I adopt

Lamps in Bonifay (Atlante forms only)

Checklist (cont.)

p. 390–91: no dating proposed

p. 410: rare example in stratigraphy come from contexts of the end of the 6th c. and beg. of the 7th c.

A: at Sidi Jdidi and Nabeul (8–10) comes from latest contexts, probably not before end of 7th c. Crypta Balbi examples are the same. B: no dating C: examples from Rougga (13–14) seem older, end of 6th to first half of 7th c.

p. 413 End of the 6th and 7th c.

p. 410: end of 6th and first half of 7th c. based on data from Carthage and Marseille

p. 408: end of 5th c. to third quarter of 6th c.

p. 401 A: 487.5–512.5 B: 540–560

p. 395 A: 440–460 (?) B: 450–500 C: ?

p. 391: 3 examples cited come from contexts at Carthage of the second half of 5th c.

p. 417: Chrisme decoration suggest end of 5th of beg. of 6th c.

Details from Bonifay (selected, only which I need)

54 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

Dates which I adopt

287.5–412.5 Bailey catalogue

Missing

Lamp Bailey R

Lamp Bailey Vict. Alb. Mus. 73 pl.11, no. 258

200–250 Bailey Lamp Central Italic moulded lamp similar to Bailey’s Type Q, Group X (specimen 1421)

See above Bon with more detail on subtypes

Lamp Atlante X = Hayes 2

Atlante vol. 2 / Bailey vol. 2 375 notes that this specimen is of the first half of 3rd c.

Atlante vol. 2 / Bailey not located

Atlante vol. 2 / Bailey vol. 2 p. 377 says they are late 3rd to early 5th c. AD

Atlante vol. 1 p. 200 I do not copy out as I take Bon as superseding.

Atlante vol. 1 p. 194 I do not copy out as I take Bon as superseding.

See above Bon with more detail on subtypes

Lamp Atlante VIII

Atlante vol. 2 / Bailey not collected

Atlante / Bailey comments

Not checked

400–500

Lamp Athenian Agora VII no 2793

LRP / Bon Comments

Details from Bonifay (selected, only which I need)

Lamp Ephesos IV 2.103 Missing no 968–995

Missing

Lamp Lamboglia 1 / 3

Lamps cited in my text Dates which I adopt

Atlante XII, groupe D2 = Bon Lamp Type 81

Atlante XII, groupe C2 = Bon Lamp Type 80

Atlante XI B1 = Bon Lamp Type 76

Atlante XI B1 = Bon Lamp Type 74

Lamps in Bonifay (Atlante forms only)

Checklist (cont.)

5th c. in Athenian Agora VII p. 191

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

55

Missing

150–250 Bailey

Lamp Italic lamp generic Bailey P(i)

Lamp Italic lamp generic Bailey Q(i)

Q(i): Atlante vol. 2 / Bailey vol. 2 p. 336: middle years of the 2nd c. to the middle years of the 3rd c. Some of type Q might be end of 3rd c. although group (i) is the earliest subgroup type.

Bailey vol. 2 p. 377 says they are late 3rd to early 5th c.

287.5–412.5 Bailey catalogue

Lamp Italic lamp Bailey R

LRP p. 314: some time in the second half of 5th c. until about 550.

Atlante vol. 2 / Bailey vol. 2 p. 377 says that Q(x) are first half of 3rd c., although the type Q of which this group (x) is the last, may extend until the end of 3rd c.

ca. 450–550 LRP

Lamp Hayes 2B

LRP p. 314: probably ca. 420–500+

200–300 Bailey catalogue

ca. 420–500+ LRP

Lamp Hayes 2A

Atlante vol. 2 not checked LRP p. 313: type 1 seems to span most of 4th and early years of 5th c. LRP p. 314: ‘Tripolitanian’ Lamp type 1 is given as spanning 4th and 5th c.

Lamp Italic lamp Bailey Q(x)

300–500 LRP

Lamp Hayes 1

Atlante / Bailey comments

Atlante vol. 2 / Bailey not located

290–410 British Museum Website

Lamp Dressel 30

LRP / Bon Comments

Lamp Italic Lamp Bailey M, particularly variant Q1158

Missing

Lamp fragment of a ‘Byzantine discus type’

Lamps cited in my text Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.)

Dressel 30 lamp is 290–410 on British museum website, without references, https://www.british museum.org/research/collection_ online/collection_object_details .aspx?objectId=435816&partId=1]

56 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

Dates which I adopt

Missing

Missing

Missing

Missing

Amphora a pareti costolate

Amphora Adamschek RC 22

Amphora Aegean (no. 291, related to group Agora V, M272 / Keay LXV / Kuzmanov XIX / LR2 / Scorpan VII.2

Amphora AegeanInsular (Samian?)

Missing

Amphorae in Bon & in my text

Amphorae

Lamp Late Corinthian Broneer 27

Lamp Provoost 10B (several)

given as second half of 4th c. Lamp of J. Perlzweig, The Athenian Agora VIII Lamps of the Roman Period (1961) p. 141: plate 26 no. 1374

Lamp Ladstätter (2008) 550–650 Type II–IV

Lamp J. Perlzweig, The given as first half of 5th c. Athenian Agora VII: Lamps of the Roman Period (Princeton 1961) plate 41[page 184] no. 2603

Lamp Italic lamp generic Bailey Q(ii)

Lamps cited in my text Dates which I adopt

Checklist (cont.)

RADR

LRP / Bon Comments

Keay or other work

Ladstätter (2008) 119 dates lamps of type II–IV in the second half of 6th to first half of 7th c.

Q(ii): first half and middle years of 2nd c. Bailey vol. 2 p. 336

Atlante / Bailey comments

Bonifay 2004 Comments / ICAC and other websites

Dating from Bonifay 2004 474–75 Table 4

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

57

Dates which I adopt

3rd c.

3rd c.?

Middle to end of 3rd c.? Later variants continue into 4th c.

187.5–212.5 Bon

187.5–250 Bon

150–300 RADR + Bon

200–300 RADR + Bon

250–300 RADR + variants to 400 RADR / 250–400 Bon

Amphora Africana 1b

Amphora Africana 2a = Keay 4 = Bon Amph Type 22

Amphora Africana 2b = Keay 5 = Bon Amph Type 23

Amphora Africana 2b 200–300 RADR + Bon « pseudo-Tripolitanian » = Keay 5bis = Bon Amph Type 24

250–300 RADR + variants to 400 RADR / 250–400 Bon

Amphora Africana 1a

Amphora Africana 2c = Keay 6 = Bon Amph Type 25

Amphora Africana 2d = Keay 7 = Bon Amph Type 26 Mainly 4th c. Early variants: possibly end of 3rd c. 4th c.

Amphora Africana 3a = 300–400 RADR + variants from Keay 25.1 = Bon Amph end of 3rd c. RADR Type 27

Amphora Africana 3b = 300–400 RADR Keay 25.3 = Bon Amph Type 28

Middle to end of 3rd c.? Later variants continue into 4th c.

Second half of 2nd c. to end of 3rd c.?

150–300? RADR + variants to 400 RADR / 150–400 Bon

Second half of 2nd c. to end of 3rd c. AD? Later variants continue into the 4th c. [Africana Piccolo]

RADR

Amphora Africana 1 = Keay 3 = Bon Amph Type 21

Amphora Africa Tr 254 Missing

Amphorae in Bon & in my text

Checklist (cont.) Keay or other work

Dating from Bonifay 2004 474–75 Table 4

No dating

No dating

p. 117: mid 3rd c. to first third of 4th c. + (?)

p. 115 C1: middle of 3rd c. to beg. of 4th c. C2: not before end of 3rd c. to first half of 4th c. (?) C3: 4th c. (?).

p. 111 A1 and A2: end of 2nd c. to first half of 3rd c. A3: mid or second half of 3rd c.

Africana 2d = Bon Amph Type 26, mid 3rd–4th c. « station 48 place des corporations »

Africana 2c = Bon Amph Type 25, mid 3rd to 4th c.

Africana 2b = Bon Amph Type 2, 3rd c.

Africana 2b = « pseudo-Tripolitanian » = Bon Amph Type 24, 3rd c. (?)

Africana 2a = Bon Amph Type 22, mid 2nd to 3rd c.

Africana 1 = Bon Amph Type 21, p. 107 A: end of 2nd c. to beg. of mid 2nd to 4th c.(?) 3rd c. variant B: end of 2nd c. to middle of 3rd c. Late variants second half of 3rd c. to 4th c.

Bonifay 2004 Comments / ICAC and other websites

58 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

466–550? Bon

200–?450 RADR

0–400 RADR

250?–400 Agora V plus Thessalonica Agora report

100–200 Bon

100–200 Bon

587.5–650+ Bon

Amphora Albenga 11–12 = Keay 62Q = Keay 62R = Bon Amph Type 45

Amphora Almagro 51c

Amphora Athenian Agora M254 = Ostia I, 453–454

Amphora Athenian Agora M237

Amphora = Bon Amph Type 16

Amphora = Bon Amph Type 17

Amphora = Bon Amph Type 47 Bonifay 1986, fig. 12.55

Amphora Carthage EA 0–100 Bon IV = Martin-Kilcher A9 = Bon Amph Type 11

3rd–4th c., possibly beg. at very end of 2nd c.

200–400 RADR

Amphora Agora K113 = Niederbieber 77 = Kapitan 2

1st–4th c.

3rd c., and possibly into mid 5th c. An early example from Tipasa could date to 2nd c.

4th–5th c.

300–500 RADR

Amphora Agora M273

RADR Later variant of Africana 3 / Keay 25 dating to between end of 4th c. and first half of 5th c.

Dates which I adopt

Amphora Africana 3c = 387.5–450 RADR + Bon Keay 25.2 = Bon Amph Type 29

Amphorae in Bon & in my text

Checklist (cont.)

Agora V 28 / M237 given as 4th c. in Boli and Skiadaressis (2001) 99, although also in pre-Herulian 3rd c. fillings in Robinson.

Keay or other work

p. 140: same as dating for Bon Amph Type 48 of end of 6th to first half of 7th c.+

p. 137: last third of 5th c. to first half of 6th c. (?)

p. 112 A, early variant: end of 3rd c. to beg. of 4th c. A and B: 4th c. C: end of 4th c. (?) to first half of 5th c.

Bonifay 2004 Comments / ICAC and other websites

Carthage EA IV = Bon Amph Type 11, 1st c.

= Bon Amph Type 17, 2nd c.

= Bon Amph Type 16, 2nd c..

Dating from Bonifay 2004 474–75 Table 4

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

59

30–300 RADR

200–512.5 RADR

112.5 BC–100 AD Bon

200–300 RADR

200–400 Bon

12.5 BC–50 AD RADR

Amphora Dressel 23

Amphora Dressel 26 = Bon Amph Type 13

Amphora Dressel 30 [= Keay 1A]

Amphora Dressel 30 = Keay 1 = Bon Amph Type 60

Amphora Dressel 6A

Late 1st c. BC to mid 1st c. AD (Carre (1985); Piccottini, (1997); Bezeczky (1998a)).

3rd c.

Originally thought to date from 3rd–4th c. excav. at Lyon, Arles and Marseille have yielded examples dating to between late 5th and early 6th c.

Dressel 20: The typical globular form was introduced by at least the Tiberian period (Xanten) and became established by the Claudian period. Production continued up to the second half of 3rd c. (Monte Testaccio). In the western provinces it is the most common amphora from the late 1st to early 3rd c.

pp. 148–51: details justifying date range of 200–400 given in list

Dressel 30 = Bon Amph Type 60, 3rd–4th c.

Dressel 26 = Bon Amph Type 13, end of 2nd–1st c. BC

Dressel 2 / 4 and pseudo-Dressel 2 / 4; Bon Amph Types 56–57 1st–mid 2nd c.

Amphora Dressel 2 / 4 = 0–150 Bon Bon Amph Type 56

Amphora Dressel 20

Dressel 2 / 4 and pseudo-Dressel 2 / 4; Bon Amph Types 56–57 1st–mid 2nd c.

0–150 Bon

Amphora Dressel 2 / 4 (pseudo-) = Bon Amph Type 57

Dating from Bonifay 2004 474–75 Table 4

Augustan / Tiberian time [which I translate as 0 AD / BC] to 2nd c. in Bertoldi Guida.

Bonifay 2004 Comments / ICAC and other websites

0–200 in Bertoldi Guida

Keay or other work

Amphora Cretoise 2

RADR 3rd c. for Dressel 30 and not clear what Ostia IV is

Dates which I adopt

Amphora comparable to 200–300? RADR a variant of the Ostia IV, 263 or Dressel 30 type

Amphorae in Bon & in my text

Checklist (cont.)

60 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

globulaires 1–4 = Bon Amph TypeS 63–66, 7th c.+ globulaires 1–4 = Bon Amph TypeS 63–66, 7th c.+

Amphora Globulaire 2 = 600+ Bon type Carthage F11–12 = Bon Amph Type 64

Amphora Globulaire 600+ Bon 3 = type Castrum Perti = Bon Amph Type 65

Amphora Globulaire 4 = 600+ Bon type Benghazi LRA 13 = Bon Amph Type 66

Hammamet 2 = Bon Amph Type 9: 3rd c. to 5th c. Hammamet 3 = Bon Amph Type 10: 5th to 7th c.

Amphora Hammamet 3 400–700 Bon = Bon Amph Type 10

87.5–200 Bon

Amphora Hammamet 2 200–400 Bon = Bon Amph Type 9

Amphora Hammamet 1 = Bon Amph Type 8

Amphora Guéry 1985, Pl. LXI, 80 = Bon Amph Type 6 Hammamet 1 = Bon Amph Type 8 Variant E: end of 1st c. to 2nd c.

globulaires 1–4 = Bon Amph TypeS 63–66, 7th c.+

600+ Bon

Amphora Globulaire 1 = type Aïn Wassel = Bon Amph Type 63

Amphora Gortina I, 278 Missing

globulaires 1–4 = Bon Amph TypeS 63–66, 7th c.+

From ca. AD 50 to the end of 3rd c.

Dating from Bonifay 2004 474–75 Table 4

50–300 RADR

end of 4th c. to 7th c.: https://homepage.univie. ac.at/elisabeth.trinkl/forum/ forum0312/62amphora.htm

Bonifay 2004 Comments / ICAC and other websites

Amphora Gauloise 4

Keay or other work

Aldini proposed from contextual evidence that this type was produced from 1st c. and throughout 2nd c. Sciallano & Sibella suggest that it was produced from a little earlier (1st c. BC) until 3rd c.

387.5–700 Trinkl

Amphora Ephesus 56

RADR

Amphora Forlimpopoli 100 BC–300 AD RADR

Dates which I adopt

Amphorae in Bon & in my text

Checklist (cont.)

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

61

Second half of 4th c. to 10th c. for all variants of AE7: Dixneuf (2011) 163–72. Late 1st–2nd c. at Augst but seems to continue into 3rd c. and even 4th c.

Amphora Hermopolite 350–1000 Dixneuf type B [=AE7 according to Dixneuf (2011) 157.

87.5–400? RADR

200–400 RADR

200–300 RADR

287.5–400 RADR

400–500 Bon

Amphora Kapitan 1

Amphora Kapitan 2

Amphora Keay 01A variant (Keay 1A is Dressel 30)

Amphora Keay 01B (Dressel 30)

Amphora Keay 03B « similis » = Bon Amph Type 34

400–550 Bon

Amphora Keay 08B = Bon Amph Type 38

see above Amphora Keay 12 [=Neiderbieber 77 = Kapitan II = Ostia form VI according to Keay p. 136]

650–700 RADR + Bon

Amphora Keay 08A = Bon Amph Type 50

Amphora Keay 08a

Amphora Keay 06 [= Africana 2C Grande]

Second half of 3rd to mid 8th c. for all variants of AE3 tardive: Dixneuf (2011) 139–41.

250–750 Dixneuf

Amphora Hermopolite (Ashmunein) type A [=AE3 according to Dixneuf (2011) 157.

Second half of 7th c.

End of the 3rd and 4th c.

Dressel 30 / Keay 1A is 3rd c.

Spans 3rd and 4th c. although it may begin at the very end of the 2nd c. It has occurred in Britain in late 3rd to early 4th c. contexts, at Augst and Pannonia mainly in 3rd c. and at Ostia it is most common in 3rd and 4th c.

RADR

Dates which I adopt

Amphorae in Bon & in my text

Checklist (cont.) Keay or other work

Unknown to ICAC site

p. 141: second half of 7th c.+

Bonifay 2004 Comments / ICAC and other websites

Keay 8B = Bon Amph Type 38: mid 5th to mid 6th c.

Keay 8A = Bon Amph Type 50: 2nd half of 7th c.

Keay 3B “similis2 / Keay 39 = Bon Amph Type 34: 5th c.

Dating from Bonifay 2004 474–75 Table 4

62 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

200–512.5 RADR

187.5–450 ICAC

Amphora Keay 13 [= Dressel 23]

Amphora Keay 16

300–450 Keay 1984 likely superseded

200–?450 RADR

Amphora Keay 20

Amphora Keay 23 [= Almagro 51C]

387.5–450 Bon

300–400 Bon

Amphora Keay 25.2 = Bon Amph Type 29

Amphora Keay 25.3 = Bon Amph Type 28

Amphora Keay 27 = Bon 387.5–450 or 500 Bon Amph Type 35

Amphora Keay 26 [= Spatheion 1]

Amphora Keay 25C

300–400 Bon

Amphora Keay 25.1 = Bon Amph Type 27

Amphora Keay 25

200?–600? RADR

Amphora Keay 19 [Almagro 51A&B]

Amphora Keay 16B–C

Dates which I adopt

Amphorae in Bon & in my text

Checklist (cont.)

Almagro 51C: 3rd c., and possibly into mid 5th c. An early example from Tipasa could date to 2nd c.

Probably from 3rd through to 6th c.

Dressel 23: originally thought to date from 3rd and 4th c., excav. at Lyon, Arles and Marseille have yielded examples dating to between late 5th and early 6th c.

RADR

Keay p. 168 has early 4th and middle 5th c., but surely this has been superseded

Keay or other work

Bonifay amphora types 35 and 36 (associated by common morphological features) p. 132: Keay 27A: second half of 4th c. Keay 27B: first half of 5th c. Keay 36: 5th c.

p. 445: an error

p. 445: this form was an error

Unknown to ICAC site

End of 2nd c. to mid-5th c.: ICAC

Bonifay 2004 Comments / ICAC and other websites

Keay 27 = Bon Amph Type 35: end 4th to 5th c.

Keay 25.3 = Bon Amph Type 28: 4th c.

Keay 25.2 = Bon Amph Type 29: end of 4th c. to mid 5th c.

Keay 25.1 = Bon Amph Type 27: 4th c.

Dating from Bonifay 2004 474–75 Table 4

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

63

4th–5th c.? dating extrapolated from guesses of Keay, which is probably now superseded

587.5–700 Bon

400–500 Bon

400–500 Bon

387.5–500 Bon

412.5–512.5 Keay, probably superseded

Amphora Keay 33

Amphora Keay 34 = Bon Amph Type 53

Amphora Keay 35A = Bon Amph Type 40

Amphora Keay 35B = Bon Amph Type 41

Amphora Keay 36 = Bon Amph Type 36

Amphora Keay 36B

650–700 Bon

350–700 RADR

487.5–600 Bon

487.5–600 Bon

450–500 Bon

Amphora Keay 50 = Bon Amph Type 51

Amphora Keay 52

Amphora Keay 55 = Bon Amph Type 44

Amphora Keay 56 = Bon Amph Type 43

Amphora Keay 57 = Bon Amph Type 42

Amphora Keay 39 = Bon Amph Type 34

Dates which I adopt

Amphorae in Bon & in my text

Checklist (cont.)

Around the middle of 4th to 7th c.

Unknown to RADR

RADR

Bonifay 2004 Comments / ICAC and other websites

Keay p. 245 has early 5th to early 6th c., probably superseded

Keay 35B = Bon Amph Type 41: 5th c.

Keay 35A = Bon Amph Type 40: 5th c.

Keay 34 = Bon Amph Type 53: end 6th to 7th c.

Dating from Bonifay 2004 474–75 Table 4

Keay 57 = Bon Amph Type 42: second half of 5th c.

Keay 56 = Bon Amph Type 43: end of 5th to 6th c.

Keay 55 = Bon Amph Type 44: end of 5th to 6th c.

Keay 50 = Bon Amph Type 51 = Bon Amph Type 52: second half of 7th c.

Keay 36 = Bon Amph Type 36: Bonifay amphora types 35 and ?end of 4th to 5th c. 36 (associated by common morphological features) p. 132: Keay 27A: 2nd half of 4th c. Keay 27B: first half of the 5th c. Keay 36: 5th c.

p. 135: 5th c.

p. 135: 5th c.

Keay p. 231 has no strong dating Unknown to ICAC site evidence, only similarity to 32 and 33 (which he suggests as 4th– early 5th and 4th–mid 5th). This suggests to him its date is likely ‘earlier’.

Keay or other work

64 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

Dates which I adopt

587.5–650 Bon

Amphora Keay 62 variant = Bon Amph Type 47

540?–600? Keay, but probably superseded

350–600 Keay, probably superseded

Missing

87.5–300 Bon

Amphora Keay 63

Amphora Keay 70

Amphora Kellia 169 [= LR1 according to website]

Amphora Leptiminus I = Bon Amph Type 12

Amphora Keay 62Q–R = 487.5–600 Bon Bon Amph Type 45

Amphora Keay 62A–D– 500–600 Bon or 500–612.5 E = Bon Amph Type 46

see below 500–600/612.5

Amphora Keay 62

http://badwila.net/amphorae/ laterom_1/index.html says is LR1

Found in two deposits with a range from later 4th to late 6th c. according to Keay p. 362, which is probably superseded.

Keay 63: Keay had one example deposited in the mid or later 6th c., although Keay’s dates have been superseded.

p. 140: A: first half of 6th c. E: end of 6th to beg. of 7th c.

http://badwila.net/amphorae/ keay_LXII/index.html suggests Amphora, little comb-decorated amphorae (a pettine) is Keay 62

p. 140: end of 6th c. to first half of 7th c.+

587.5–650 Bon

Bonifay 2004 Comments / ICAC and other websites

Amphora Keay 61C = Bon Amph Type 48

Keay or other work

p. 141: A and other late variant mid & 2nd half of 7th c. B and D: end of 6th to first half of 7th c.

587.5–650 Bon

RADR

Amphora Keay 61A–D = A & other late variant 640–700 Bon Amph Type 49 Bon B & D: 587.5–650 Bon

Amphora Keay 61

Amphora Keay 59 = Bon 387.5–450 Bon Amph Type 37

Amphorae in Bon & in my text

Checklist (cont.)

Leptiminus I = Bon Amph Type 12: end of 1st to 3rd c.?

Keay 62Q–R = Bon Amph Type 45 ? ? ? end of 5th c.–6th c.

Keay 62 = Bon Amph Type 46: 6th c.

Keay 62 variant = Bon Amph Type 47: end of 6th to mid 7th c.

Keay 61C = Bon Amph Type 48: end of 6th–mid 7th c.

Keay 61 = Bon Amph Type 49: 7th c.

Keay 59 = Bon Amph Type 37: end of 4th to mid 5th c.

Dating from Bonifay 2004 474–75 Table 4

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

65

Pieri (2012) 31: end 5th–beg. 6th c.

487.5–512.5 Pieri (2012)

387.5–450 Pieri (2012)

500–650 Pieri (2012)

400–650 Pieri (2012)

Amphora LR 1B / transition

Amphora LR 1A subtype

Amphora LR 1B

Amphora LR 1B subtype

Pieri (2012) 31: beg. 5th–mid-7th c.

Pieri (2012) 31: 6th–mid-7th c.

Pieri (2012) 31: end 4th–mid-5th c.

Pieri (2012) 31: end 4th–5th c.

387.5–500 Pieri (2012)

Amphora LR 1A

Mid 3rd to 7th c. However the ‘classic’ LRA 1 / Egloff 169 dates from c. AD 400, and its immediate (narrow necked) predecessor is recognisable by the mid 4th c. First major exports of the more recognised type from the mid to late 4th c. (narrow necked predecessors of Egloff 169; Egloff 169, c. AD 400; Egloff 164, c. AD 500. The latest examples have been found in contexts of the second half of 7th c. (Cripta Balbi / Rome and Alexandria). It is notable that LRA 1 was replaced by the globular ‘Late Roman 13’ amphora at the Anemurium and Zygi Cypriot kiln sites. An almost complete ?Zygi LRA 13 occurred in a large Umayyad deposit in Beirut, with only one LRA 1 rim (Cypriot lime-rich buff fabric).

350–650 RADR Narrow-necked: 350–650 RADR Classic: 400–650 RADR

Amphora LR 1 = Kellia 3.164

Bonifay 2004 Comments / ICAC and other websites

87.5–250 Bon

Keay or other work

Amphora Leptiminus II = Bon Amph Type 5

RADR

Dates which I adopt

Amphorae in Bon & in my text

Checklist (cont.)

Leptiminus II = Bon Amph Type 5: end of 1st to mid 3rd c.?

Dating from Bonifay 2004 474–75 Table 4

66 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

Dates which I adopt

312.5–650 RADR

One-handled: 50 BC+ RADR Two-handled: 387.5–?600 RADR

Missing

300–700 RADR

0–750 RADR

Amphorae in Bon & in my text

Amphora LR 2

Amphora LR 3

Amphora LR 3A

Amphora LR 4 = Almagro 54

Amphora LR 5

Checklist (cont.)

1st to 2nd c. to ca. AD 750 (e.g. Caesarea examples in Umayyad Beirut). Production of the general type continues throughout the Abbasid period.

The one-handled type appears in the mid 1st c. BC, and the earliest example of the two-handled variety seems to be from a very late 4th c. context at Santo Sisto Vecchio in Rome. The trend at Carthage suggests a marked peak in the Vandal period, at about AD 475, followed by a gradual decline until the later 6th c. when there is a second peak.

The type occurs in contexts of the early 4th c. in Scythia and at Athens (Athenian Agora Type M272). At Carthage there is a marked increase in its presence from about the mid 6th c., while production seems to have ended by the first half of 7th c. It should be noted that Opaiţ believes that the antecedence of this form goes back to 1st and 2nd c.

RADR

Keay or other work

RADR: the classic Almagro 54 / Late Roman amphora 4 dates from 4th–7th c., production probably ending with the Arab conquests. However, the wider bodied version is common in Beirut from early 2nd to mid 3rd c.

LR 3 = Peacock and Williams class 45 = B4 Ballana 13a, Kuzmanov VIII, Scorpan 5, Benghazi LR10 according Tyers (1996)

Bonifay 2004 Comments / ICAC and other websites

Dating from Bonifay 2004 474–75 Table 4

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

67

Missing

212.5–700+ RADR

387.5–800 RADR

Missing

Missing

300–400 Bon

250–400 Bon

87.5–150 Bon

Amphora LR 5 / 6

Amphora LR 6

Amphora LR 7

Amphora LR 9

Amphora Ostia I 453– 454 (Mid Roman 1)

Amphora Ostia IV, 172 = Bon Amph Type 61

Amphora Ostia IV, 263 = Bon Amph Type 62

Amphora Ostia LIX = Bon Amph Type 15

Amphora Pupput T700.4 = Bon Amph Type 16

100–200

Amphora Peacock class See LR 3 above 45 [LR3 on RADR]

Amphora Ostia XXIII = 87.5–150 Bon Bon Amph Type 14

Dates which I adopt

Amphorae in Bon & in my text

Checklist (cont.)

Missing

Missing

From the late 4th to 7th/8th c.

Early 3rd–8th c. and beyond. One well stratified early 3rd c. example has occurred in Beirut; cf. the contemporary trade in the more common Late Roman Amphora 5. The type is not a significant import in Beirut until the mid and late 4th c., being then relatively common throughout the Byzantine period. Note that the shape continued to be produced into the first half of 8th c., during the Umayyad period and that sherds do occur in Abbasid deposits in Beirut.

Not on RADR

RADR

Keay or other work

p. 103: 2nd c.

p. 151: found in contexts of second half of 3rd to beg. of 4th c. at Nabuel (unpublished Bon).

p. 151: 4th c. at Pupput.

Bonifay 2004 Comments / ICAC and other websites

Ostia XXIII = Bon Amph Type 14: end of 1st to mid 2nd c.

Ostia LIX = Bon Amph Type 15: end of 1st to mid 2nd c.

Dating from Bonifay 2004 474–75 Table 4

68 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

100–200

Missing

Amphora Pupput T700.5 = Bon Amph Type 17

Amphora Riley type of the end of the 5th c.

0–100 Bon

600–700 Bon

600–700 Bon

387.5–700 Bon

Amphora Schöne-Mau XXXV = Bon Amph Type 58

Amphora Sidi Jdidi 1 = Bon Amph Type 54

Amphora Sidi Jdidi 2 = Bon Amph Type 55

Amphora Spatheion = Keay 26

Amphora Spatheion 2 = 450–550 Bon / 450–525 RADR Keay 26 = Bon Amph (I use Bon) Type 32

Amphora Spatheion 1B (Bon 1B) = Keay 25E

Amphora Spatheion 1 = 387.5–450 Bon / 387.5–450 RADR (I use Bon) Keay 26 = Bon Amph Type 31 (types 1A–1D all given the same date range)

0–150 Bon

Amphora Schöne-Mau XXXV = Bon Amph Type 58.

Amphora Samos Cistern 500–700 RADR Type

Dates which I adopt

Amphorae in Bon & in my text

Checklist (cont.)

Second half of 5th c. and first quarter of 6th c.

From the end of 4th c. or beg. to middle 5th c. (following Bon 474–75 Table 4, not main text on p. 125 which says first quarter to mid 5th c.)

6th–7th c. The example from Argos is dated to AD 585 and the one from Drandra was found built into the dome of a church dating to around AD 580. At the Crypta Balbi in Rome the type would appear to continue down to at least the end of 7th c.

Missing

RADR

Keay or other work

Bonifay 2004 Comments / ICAC and other websites

Spatheion 2 = Bon Amph Type 32 ? ? ?: mid 5th c.–mid 6th c.

Spatheion 1 = Bon Amph Type 31: end of 4th to mid 5th c.

Sidi Jdidi 2 = Bon Amph Type 55: ? 7th c.

Sidi Jdidi 1 = Bon Amph Type 54: ? ? 7th c.

Schöne-Mau XL = Bon Amph Type 2B: 1st c.

Schöne-Mau XXXV = Bon Amph Type 58: 1st to mid 2nd c.

Dating from Bonifay 2004 474–75 Table 4

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

69

Tripolitanian 1 = Bon Amph Type 19: 1st c. to mid 2nd c. Tripolitanian 2 [Type 4]: end of 1st to mid 3rd c. Tripolitanian 3 = Bon Amph Type 20: mid 2nd to 4th c. (?)

Amphora Tripolitanian 0–150 Bon 1 = Bon Amph Type 19

Amphora Tripolitanian 87.5–250 Bon 2 = Bon Amph Type 4

Amphora Tripolitanian 150–400 Bon 3 [N.B. typo in Bonifay] = Bon Amph Type 20 p. 143: Amphora = Bon Amph Type 51 and 52 is dated to second half of 7th c.+

C: second half of the 7th c.+

Amphora Spatheion 3C 650–700+

“station 48 place des corporations” = Bon Amph Type 30: 2nd to mid 3rd c. Uzita Pl. 52, 10 = Bon Amph Type 18: 2nd c. Van der Werff 1 = Bon Amph Type 1: 2nd to 1st c. BC

Amphora Type « Station 100–250 Bon 48 de la place des Corporations » = Bon Amph Type 30

Amphora Uzita Pl. 52, 100–200 Bon 10 = Bon Amph Type 18

Amphora Van der Werff 200 BC–0 BC Bon 1 = Bon Amph Type 1

650–700 Bon

B and D: 7th c.

Amphora Spatheion 3B 600–700 and 3D

Amphora Type « con orlo a fascia » = Bon Amph Type 52

A, late examples: second half of 7th c.

Amphora Spatheion 3A, 650–700 late examples

Spatheion 3 = Bon Amph Type 33: end of 6th to 7th c. A: end of 6th c. to first half of 7th c.

587.5–700 Bon with variants 550–712.5 RADR (I use Bon)

Dating from Bonifay 2004 474–75 Table 4

Amphora Spatheion 3A 587.5–650

Amphora Spatheion 3 = Keay 26 = Bon Amph Type 33

From the second half of the 6th to the end of the 7th c. (perhaps the beg. of 8th c.).

Bonifay 2004 Comments / ICAC and other websites

p. 127 Spatheion B: 6th c.

Keay or other work

Amphora Spatheion 2B 500–600 Bon

RADR p. 127 Spatheion 2A: second half of 5th c.

Dates which I adopt

Amphora Spatheion 2A 450–500 Bon

Amphorae in Bon & in my text

Checklist (cont.)

70 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

150–400 Potsherd

Undated

ca. 240–400 Potsherd, can be dated more precisely

270–350 in Young (1977) 157–58 for Young C44

270–400+ for C45 in Young (1977) 158

240–400+ in Young (1977) 160

325–400+ in Young (1977) 165–66 for Young C75

340–400+ in Young (1977) 166 for Young C78

240–400+ in Young (1977) 173, listed as a mortarium.

300–400+ in Young (1977) 174, listed as a mortarium

Oxford colour-coated

Oxford colour-coated Young C44

Oxford colour-coated Young C45

Oxford colour-coated Young C51

Oxford colour-coated Young C75

Oxford colour-coated Young C78 rosettestamped necked bowl

Oxford colour-coated Young C97

Oxford colour-coated Young C100

New Forest red-slipped ca. 260–370 Potsherd vessel

Nene Valley Colour Coated Wares

Other Fine Wares

Amphora Vegas 1994, fig. 179, n°397–398 = Bon Amph Type 7

C44: according to Young 270–350 and C45: 270–400+: S. Willis pers. comm.

ca. 260–370 Potsherd

150–400 Potsherd

p. 92: no dating suggested by Bon

Bonifay 2004 Comments / ICAC and other websites

Dating from Bonifay 2004 474–75 Table 4

Van der Werff 3 = Bon Amph Type 3: 2nd to 1st c. BC

Keay or other work

Amphora Van der Werff 200 BC–0 BC Bon 3 = Bon Amph Type 3

RADR Van der Werff 2 = Bon Amph Type 2A: 2nd to 1st c. BC

Dates which I adopt

Amphora Van der Werff 200 BC–0 BC Bon 2 = Bon Amph Type 2

Amphorae in Bon & in my text

Checklist (cont.)

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

71

400–500 DCAMNO

370–500 DCAMNO

370–500 DCAMNO

370–500 DCAMNO

DSP Rigoir 1 (1A and 1B)

DSP Rigoir 5 (5A and 5B)

DSP Rigoir 15

DSP Rigoir 16

370–500 in DCAMNO

370–500 in DCAMNO

370–650 in DCAMNO

370–650

40–70 Potsherd

PRS1: present at Haltern, Oberaden and Neuss in Augustan levels, and common on sites of same date in Rhône valley (e.g. Lyon, Valence and Orange). Production in Italy may extend back into 2nd c. BC. In Britain PRW1 was imported from c. AD 40–80, when production may have ceased. PRS2: the least well understood of the widely distributed PRW fabrics. PRS3: in Britain, from c. AD 40, and particularly common on NeronianFlavian sites (e.g. Usk, Gloucester, Exeter). Several from Hadrianic fire deposits in London. Specimens from Hadrianic foundations in the north, suggest production and export continues into 2nd c.: Potsherd

Bonifay 2004 Comments / ICAC and other websites

DSP

40–70 Potsherd

Ritterling 8

Keay or other work

From late 3rd c. with production continuing until at least AD 450. Many British pieces are dated to mid- and late 4th c. but importation may have started in later 3rd c. Potsherd 4th–5th c. without clear start or end date in CRGN 226

200 BC–?200 AD Potsherd

Pompeian red slip

RADR

Sigillata Argonne 287.5–450+ Potsherd decorated ‘à la molette’

Dates which I adopt

Other Fine Wares

Checklist (cont.) Dating from Bonifay 2004 474–75 Table 4

72 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

Pernon 37a is 280–350 and Pernon 37b is 350–450 in DCAMNO Not in DCAMNO Pernon 74 is 160–400 in DCAMNO 180–250 in Potsherd

sigillée luisante Pernon 13–350 DCAMNO 7

sigillée luisante Pernon 350–450 DCAMNO 14

sigillée luisante Pernon 350–450 in DCAMNO 31

sigillée luisante Pernon 280–450 in DCAMNO 37

sigillée luisante Pernon Not in DCAMNO 45

sigillée luisante Pernon 160–400 DCAMNO 74

Trier black-slipped ware 180–250 Potsherd (Moselkeramik)

Rascon dates it to the third quarter of 3rd c. (see appendices K2a, L1, X1a). It may be 250–380, or a specific form within this group, drawing on Paz.

350–450 in DCAMNO

220–500 DCAMNO

sigillée luisante / Luisante pottery

TSH 37 with frieze decoration and concentric roulettes

Pernon 14 is 350–450 in DCAMNO

400–650 DCAMNO

DSP 26

Missing

Pernon 7 is 130–350 in DCAMNO

370–650 DCAMNO

DSP tardive

TS Tardía Meridional

130–450 in DCAMNO as 220–500

370–500 DCAMNO

TSH 37 = this could be Forms TSTH Paz 4.23–4.26 of TSHT Dragendorff 37 of a date range of 250–380 in fig. 14 table 2 of Paz or forms TSTH Paz 4.27–4.35, which extend over a range of 400–510 acc. to Paz article, but 380–510 in fig. 14 table 2 of Paz, which is what I will follow.

400–600 for DSP Rigoir 26a and 500–650 for Rigoir 26b in DCAMNO

370–650 in DCAMNO as no ‘tardive’ ware noted

370–500 in DCAMNO

Both 370–500 in DCAMNO

DSP Rigoir 6A, 8, 9 or 16, 18

Bonifay 2004 Comments / ICAC and other websites

370–500 DCAMNO

Keay or other work

DSP Rigoir 6 and 16, sherds inspired by

RADR

Dates which I adopt

Other Fine Wares

Checklist (cont.) Dating from Bonifay 2004 474–75 Table 4

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

73

Dates which I adopt

450–510

Missing

250–510 Paz

250–380 in Paz

Missing

TSHT (Paz 86)

TSHT decorated bowl

TSHT form 8

TSHT Dragendorff 37

ceràmica pintada of 5th c. date in Iesso

TSHT, a large bowl with 380–510 stamped decoration of large compass-traced circles in the interior with victory palms, given as dating after 340, citing Paz p. 506 fig. 3 and p. 506 fig. 4 [this is perhaps form Paz 4.33 on fig. 4, with page nos not matching the online edition]

TSHT [Terra Sigillata Hispánica Tardía]

Other Fine Wares

Checklist (cont.)

Perhaps not what found at Complutum where given as from the 3rd c. to the first half of the 4th c.

RADR

Keay or other work

TSHT Dragendorff 37 of a date range of 250–380 in fig. 14 table 2 of Paz

TSHT form 8 extends over 330–500 acc. to Paz article, but is 250 to 510 in fig. 14 table 2 of Paz, which is what I will follow.

TSHT Paz form 4.33 is 5th c. acc. to Paz article but 380–510 in fig. 14 table 2 of Paz, which is what I will follow.

Bonifay 2004 Comments / ICAC and other websites

After ca. 430; imitation of Hayes 73a or 76 according to Paz (2008) 525 fig. 13 = Paz form 6.5 of Terra Sigillata Hispánica Intermedia y Tardía surveyed in this article = or perhaps Paz form 8.13. These are both given as 450 to 510 in fig. 14 table 2 of Paz, which is what I will follow.

Dating from Bonifay 2004 474–75 Table 4

74 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

230/40–ca. 325 Atlante reporting Hayes

See ARS Hayes form 59

Lamboglia 40 bis

Lamboglia 51 of ARS D

Given as Lamboglia ARS D 51 = Hayes 59b in LRP

Given as Lamboglia 40(A) = Hayes 31 in LRP

Uncertain as Hayes 31 is 200–300 in Bon

Lamboglia 40

Given as equivalent to Hayes 27 in LRP

Lamboglia no. 3 does not appear in Hayes LRP concordance but Lamboglia 8 is equivalent to Hayes form 17, which Hayes LRP gives a tentative date of “around the second half of the second century”.

187.5–412.5 Atlante

Lamboglia 9A

RADR

Lamboglia 3 / 8, coupes 150–250 Atlante à bord rentrant close to the form of

Dates which I adopt

Other Fine Wares

Checklist (cont.)

p. 83: 320–400/420 citing Hayes found in contexts of 4th c. in Piazza Armerina and Ventimiglia and of end of 4th to beg. 5th c. at Ostia and in 4th–5th c. contexts at Carthage

p. 65: “230/40–325 circa” (Hayes, not sure if pers. comm.) Noting also that frequent in contexts of the first half of the 3rd c. citing Ostia I

Atlante p. 65: “300–360 circa (Hayes)”

Atlante p. 34: gives it as equivalent to Hayes 17A. “Second half of 2nd c.?” acc. to Hayes [but this is not LRP or SLRP so is probably a pers. comm.]. First half of 3rd c. citing Ostia I.

Atlante p. 85: 9B seems to be equivalent to Hayes 63. p. 86: 375–400 ca. (Hayes). p. 86: 9B? is attested in a context of 360–440 (Italian Carthage Mission, unpublished excavations). Lamboglia 9A is mentioned here but significance is not clear p. 215: Lamboglia 9A attested from end of 2nd / beg. of 3rd to end of 4th / beg. of 5th c. (Ostia III–IV) and at Carthage at the end of 4th c. (Michigan I).

Keay or other work

Bonifay 2004 Comments / ICAC and other websites

Dating from Bonifay 2004 474–75 Table 4

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

75

Dates which I adopt

300–400

250–350

Pâte claire engobée F9 DCAMNO

Pâte claire engobée G1 DCAMNO

Hayes 10: ca. 570–660+ LRP

250–400

Pâte claire engobée E2 DCAMNO

Ephesian Red Slip Ware ca. 570–660+ LRP imitating LRC Hayes 10

300–400

Pâte claire engobée C2 DCAMNO

CRGN is not helpful on chronology

CRGN is not helpful on chronology

CRGN is not helpful on chronology

CRGN is not helpful on chronology

CRGN is not helpful on chronology

280–400

Pâte claire engobée B13a DCAMNO

pp. 83–84: given as equivalent in Lamb. 54, 54 bis and 54 ter. to Hayes 61 n. 17, 61 n. 3 and 61 n. 25. Chronology given as 325–450 ca. (Hayes) with 325–400/420 for Hayes 61A and 380/390–450 for type Hayes 61B [noting observations Hayes (1977) 282]. Attested in contexts of end of 4th to beg. 5th at Ostia (Ostia III–IV), in context of 4th–5th c. at Carthage [no source cited for Carthage contexts but they are perhaps unpublished contexts of the Italian mission, often mentioned elsewhere in the Atlante in such chronological discussions].

Keay or other work

CRGN is not helpful on chronology

Missing

Given as Lamboglia 54 = Hayes 61(A) in LRP

RADR

Pâte claire engobée B2a 250–450 DCAMNO

Paleochristian painted ware

Late Eastern Sigillata A Missing (?) (Form E (?)),

Lamboglia 54, imitation See Hayes 61 with revised Bon chronology

Other Fine Wares

Checklist (cont.)

Atlante II

Bonifay 2004 Comments / ICAC and other websites

Dating from Bonifay 2004 474–75 Table 4

76 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

Dates which I adopt

Black-burnished ware 1 and 2 (BB1 and BB2)

Coarsewares

Pre-Roman to late 4th c. on Potsherd

Ephesian Red Slip Ware 400–ca. 550 LRP + SLRP imitating LRC Hayes 3

Other Fine Wares

Checklist (cont.)

Hayes 3: 400–ca. 550 LRP + SLRP

RADR

Keay or other work

BB1: “Production of pottery in Poole Harbour region may commence in middle Iron Age Production continues until late 4th c. but with fluctuating distribution pattern … Everted rim cooking pots become progressively more slender and the rims move from vertical to become splayed and flared. The decorated lattice band becomes narrower and the angle of intersection of the burnished lines changes from acute to obtuse, with the cross-over point at c. AD 200 and fully obtuse lattice by c. AD 220 … In the bowls, the flat-rimmed variant develops by c. AD 120 and the bowl with flat-rim and groove dates from late 2nd. until mid-3rd c. AD The conical flanged bowl probably develops c. AD 250 and, with the obtuse latticed cooking pot, dominates the later assemblage.” Potsherd BB2: “Appears in small quantity below Hadrianic fire levels in London, but no evidence for production much before AD 120 and development of the style in the south-east seems to coincide with the expansion of the distribution of BB1 at that date. The fabric is common throughout the Antonine period.” Potsherd

Bonifay 2004 Comments / ICAC and other websites

Dating from Bonifay 2004 474–75 Table 4

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

77

Dates which I adopt

Ditto, if same as conical bowl

200 to ca. 450 Potsherd

Missing

BB1 flanged bowl

Céramique à l’éponge

Coarse Red Ware

Missing

Olchese (1993) no. 369–76

Oxford colour-coated ca. 240–400 Potsherd, can be jar or flagon coarseware dated more precisely

Missing

Nene Valley colourcoated folded beaker coarseware

Nene Valley colour150–400 Potsherd coated dish coarseware

Missing Coarseware casserole from volcanic area of W Med islands Macías (1999) 63–64, form Ca / Lip8, lám. 6, 8.7

ca. 250 to late 4th c. on Potsherd

BBI conical flanged bowl

BB1 cooking pots with ca. 220 to late 4th c. on Potsherd an obtuse-angled lattice

BB1 cooking pot, first introduced ca. 250

BB1 is Pre-Roman to late 4th c. BB1 cooking pot with outflaring rim as Gillam on Potsherd, noting that Gillam’s 143 classifications are superseded.

BB1 cooking pot

BB cooking pots with ca. 220 to the late 4th c. on obtuse-angled latticing Potsherd

Coarsewares

Checklist (cont.) RADR

Keay or other work

Production of red-slipped wares commences by c. AD 240 and continues until end of 4th c. Many of the individual forms can be dated more accurately. Potsherd

I was not able to obtain Olchese (1993) to check this.

150–400 Potsherd

200 to ca. 450 Potsherd End of 2nd c. to end of 4th c., i.e. 187.5–400 CRGN

Bonifay 2004 Comments / ICAC and other websites

Dating from Bonifay 2004 474–75 Table 4

78 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

350–400+ in Young (1977) 160

325–400+ in Young (1977) 166

500–700 Lattara

360–440 Atlante

500–512.5 Atlante

ca. 550–ca. 575? Atlante

Oxford colour-coated Young C52 coarseware

Oxford colour-coated Young C75 coarseware

Marmite globulaire Cathma 13 DSP

Atlante table 40.3

Atlante table 40.9

Atlante table 53.2

c. AD 70–165 (S. Willis pers. comm.) Not in Potsherd

Missing

170–230 Potsherd

170–230 Potsherd for Drag. 43

Drag. 37 de Montans empâté

Drag. 37B tardía

Drag. 40 bowl

Drag. 43, a mortar derived from

Magness Rouletted Bowls form 1

ca. 287.5–500

70–230 Potsherd

Drag. 37

Eastern Sigillata B

70–230 Potsherd

Drag. 35

Atlante table 107.11

Dates which I adopt

Coarsewares

Checklist (cont.)

J. Magness Jerusalem ceramic chronology: circa 200–800 CE (Sheffield ca. 1993) 185 gives form 1 a suggested date of late 3rd / early 4th c. to 5th c.

RADR

Magness Rouletted Bowls form 1

p. 115: only one type known to Atlante, from a stratum a bit posterior to the mid-6th c., citing Italian Mission at Carthage unpublished data.

p. 92: beg. of 6th c. citing Hayes. Considered here alongside Hayes 88 [which is given as early 6th c. in LRP].

p. 91: known in contexts from Carthage of between 360–440 citing Italian Mission at Carthage unpublished data

Keay or other work

ca. 287.5–500

Atlante II, not checked

170–230 Potsherd for Drag. 43

170–230 Potsherd

Not in Potsherd

Not in Potsherd

70–230 Potsherd

70–230 Potsherd

500–700 in DCAMNO Lattara 6 1993

Ditto

Bonifay 2004 Comments / ICAC and other websites

J. Magness Jerusalem ceramic chronology: circa 200–800 CE (Sheffield ca. 1993) 185 gives form 1 a suggested date of late 3rd / early 4th c. to 5th c.

Dating from Bonifay 2004 474–75 Table 4

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

79

15th–20th c. Salam (2009). This cannot be correct, as my ‘Gaza Ware’ is late antique

Gaza Ware

284–502 Parker (2006)

284–324 Parker (2006)

Missing

Missing

Missing

Missing

650–1100

Hesban Late Roman IV / Early Byzantine ca. 284–502

Hesban Late Roman, 284–324

Hispánica 5

Hispánica 5

Jerash bowl

Jerash bowl

Mafjar Ware / Islamic Cream Ware

Hesban Early Byzantine 363–400 Parker (2006) II, 363–400

Hesban Early Byzantine 324–63 Parker (2006) I, 324–63

Grey Ware

Missing

750+ Northedge and Kennet (1994)

Early Islamic Glazed pottery

Grey or black vases biconques of northern Gaul, thought to relate to Franks / incomers

Dates which I adopt

Others

Checklist (cont.) RADR

Walmsley (2001) now dates the ware (with several different subtypes) to the second half of 7th c. to 11th c.

Same as Gaza Ware?

Under-studied and long-lived tradition, reviewed by Salam (2009). Walker (2009) 55 dates it to 15th–20th c. I suspect I may have mixed up this ware with another ancient one.

Studied by Northedge and Kennet (1994) who on p. 25 note that the earliest examples of the Samarra Horizon seem to be no earlier than mid-8th c.

Keay or other work

Bonifay 2004 Comments / ICAC and other websites

Dating from Bonifay 2004 474–75 Table 4

80 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

ceramique à pâte beige du IVe s.

A de Vaz Pinto 2003 type IX

‘elvan’ stone bowl from Cornwall, usually dated to the 3rd or 4th c.

Unidentified Pottery

Dating to end of 8th c. to 13th c. onwards according to http:// archeologiamedievale.unisi.it/ SitoCNR/Ceramica/AM/AM39 .html (last accessed February 2017).

vetrina pesante

787.5–1300

Reference to Hayes (1971) above does not check out, as the above work is about ampullae.

ungentarium of Hayes Missing (1971) n. 16, 424, with a stamp paralleled to examples from Constantinople where the stamp was dated to the mid-6th c.

500–800 D. Osland pers. comm.

= Almagro 54 [LR4] according to Riley (1975) 30.

500–800 Osland

Olla, s-curve Visigothic

Riley ‘water jar’ / amphora 2

Missing

Olla of type Vila-roma 5.40

Keay or other work

lA is 200–400 according to Riley (1975) 26.

100–400 Potsherd

Mancetter-Hartshill mortarium

RADR

Riley ‘water jar’ / amphora 1a

Dates which I adopt

Others

Checklist (cont.)

From ca. AD 100. Stamping ceased at end of 2nd c. but production continues into 4th c. Potsherd.

Bonifay 2004 Comments / ICAC and other websites

Dating from Bonifay 2004 474–75 Table 4

Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

81

Ostia IV, 60 [not checked]

Ostia IV, 59 [not checked]

Ostia IV, 106 Rozza Terracotta

Grey or black vases biconques of N. Gaul, thought to relate to Franks / incomers

distinctive grey ceramics (found across the Massif Central comparable to céramique paléochrétienne grise et orangée from Languedoc, which looks very similar to DSP, of which the established alternative name is céramique estampée grise et orangée

comb-decorated ceramics

céramique à pâte rouge des Ier–IIe s.

céramique à pâte claire à structure feuilletée à engobe bleuté

Unidentified Pottery

Checklist (cont.)

Dates which I adopt

RADR

Keay or other work

Bonifay 2004 Comments / ICAC and other websites

Dating from Bonifay 2004 474–75 Table 4

82 Checklist of Dates for Pottery Types

Appendix 1

Street Architecture Introductory Note These appendices are not intended to provide exhaustive discussions of monuments. Rather, they present information only pertinent to the themes discussed in the main text, which primarily concerns what streets looked like to those who used them, and what structures supported the visible aspects of streets. This necessarily involves leaving out a good number of issues, especially relating to engineering. I have tried to write my entries in a standard form, from reports that had very different priorities. Thus, it is not always possible to produce an even quality of information for all sites, especially when recording repairs and adaptations rather than new buildings. Often such information simply has not been recorded, and there is little scope for me to make my own observations from plans, though I have tried to do this where possible. Textual editions in this appendix are as in the main bibliography, unless otherwise stated. Editions are named when it is the scholarly convention to cite page numbers rather than line or chapter numbers for a particular work. The archaeological bibliography is limited to works pertinent to current discussion, often excluding early reports or minor treatments. No attempt is made to include archival material or ‘grey literature’, except that which can be accessed online, with the exception of sites (e.g. Ostia) where I have worked. Cross references are used extensively, as I have kept discussions of single sites together when possible, to avoid confusing the reader and to reduce the errors which develop when sites are divided into a large number of entries. I realise this material would be best exploited in a database but am yet to secure funding for such a measure.

Diocesan Abbreviations

Regional codes are drawn from the organisation of the empire in the later 4th c., to facilitate quick location of sites. Within a diocese, sites are usually organised geographically, roughly north-south or east-west, except when there are so many sites (as for statues) that an alphabetical organisation is better suited. Within capitals, monuments of named emperors are usually organised in chronological order, based on the date of their foundation. 1 Praetorian prefecture of Gauls 1.1 Diocese of Britannia (01BRI) 1.2 Diocese of Hispania (02HIS) 1.3 Diocese of Gallia (03GAL) 1.4 Diocese of Viennensis / Septem Provinciae (04VIE) 2 Praetorian prefecture of Italy and Africa 2.1 Diocese of Italia annonaria (05ITA) 2.2 Diocese of Italia suburbicaria (06ITS) 2.3 Diocese of Africa (07AFR) 3 Praetorian Prefecture of Illyricum 3.1 Diocese of Pannonia / Diocese Illyricum (08PAN) 3.2 Diocese of Dacia (09DAC) 3.3 Diocese of Macedonia (10MAC) 4 Praetorian Prefecture of Oriens 4.1 Diocese of Thrace (11THR) 4.1 Constantinople (12THR) 4.1 Diocese of Asiana (13ASI) 4.3 Diocese of Pontus (14PON) 4.4 Diocese of Oriens (15ORI) 4.5 Diocese of Aegyptus (16AEG)

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004423824_016

84 Encroachment A1 Churches Built Respecting Street Grids, a Selection

02HIS Valencia (Valentia) (Cathedral): A basilical church was built that closely respects the street grid. It was built right to the edge of the insula, although the subsequent baptistery and mausoleum project from it, extending over the Cardo Maximus. An associative date can be suggested for the church, from the wider phase of development: some publications have connected the building to the reorganisation of this area of the city, in the 6th c., when a cemetery is thought to have been installed on its northern side: e.g. A. Ribera, “La ciudad de Valencia durante el periodo visigodo”, in Zona arqueológica 9. Recópolis y la ciudad en la época visigoda, ed. L. Olmo Enciso (Alcalá de Henares 2008) (303–20) 307. Unfortunately, this cemetery cannot easily be dated, due to its use of ceramics from earlier periods for burying the dead. Nevertheless, a destruction level on the nearby decumanus near the nymphaeum (which seems to have formed prior to this reorganisation) contains ARS D of Hayes 67 [ca. 360–470 in LRP / SLRP, with shorter ranges for subtypes], 80a [440–500 LRP], 91 [350–650 based on LRP, not contradicted by Bon or Atlante] and amphoras Keay 13 [= Dressel 23, 200–512.5 RADR], 23 [= Almagro 51C, 200–?450 RADR], and 33 [4th–5th c.? dating extrapolated from guesses of Keay 1984 p. 231, which is probably now superseded], which makes the layer 5th c. to the excavators: R. Albiach et al., “Las últimas excavaciones (1992–1998) del solar de l’Almonia: nuevos datos de la zona episcopal de Valentia”, in V Reunió d’Arqueologia Cristiana Hispànica: Cartagena, 16–19 d’abril de 1998 = V Reunión de Arqueología Cristiana Hispánica: Cartagena, 16–19 de abril 1998 (Barcelona 2000) (63–86) 69–70. However, under the rules of this study, the latest ceramic identified is Hayes 80a, suggesting a date for the destruction layer, which should represent a single event in which ceramics were brought together, of AD 440–65. Thus, it looks like the ancient organisation of the zone was maintained until at least 440. We cannot know if the church began before or after this rupture. Yet, in the absence of other evidence, the suggestion that the church and the cemetery belong together is plausible, allowing us to give them both a TPQ of 440. A TAQ for the church can be derived from its two annex structures, which are both dated to the mid-6th c. The mausoleum is dated based on a radio-carbon date from a skeleton in the central tomb of the structure. This date is given as centred on AD 560, with no further information available. The baptistery is dated based on ceramics from the foundation trench, which included Hayes 101 of ARS D (here given as AD 535–600, rather than 550–600 as in LRP / SLRP). For the dating evidence for both structures see appendix A2a below.

APPENDIX 1: A1 Churches Built Respecting Street Grids Overall, this information, and the later 6th c. extensions of the baptistery and mausoleum, would seem to make the basilical church later 5th to earlier 6th c. in date. More subtle arguments, relating to the height of a destruction deposit over the macellum or to a later well, are hard to credit at present, as this area is complex and fragmentary in stratigraphic terms. Dating summary (construction of church respecting road): range 440–560, midpoint 500, Cs10 (scientific, radiocarbon), Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3. 07AFR Hippo Regius (Great Basilica): The Great Basilica does not encroach onto the street in front of it. It seems to be dated only by grave epitaphs written for Vandals and Suevi, on grave slabs secondarily inserted into the church. This information suggests use by Arians sometime during the period AD 430–533, when the Vandals ruled Africa. It provides a TAQ of 533, whilst the Edict of Milan of 313 provides our TPQ. I do not think it is wise to identify the building with any church known from texts to have existed at the time of St. Augustine: S. Dahmani, Hippo Regius (Algiers 1973) 45–47 with a plan. A detailed summary is provided by I. Gui, N. Duval and J.-P. Caillet, Basiliques chrétiennes d’Afrique du Nord, vol. 1: Inventaire de l’Algérie (Paris 1992) 346–49, no. 123, with extensive bibliography. Dating summary: 313–533, midpoint 423, class x (historical text), Cs6 (absolute, inscription in situ), publication 3/3. 07AFR Sufetula (Basilica 4, with 4 others): The 5 intramural churches of the city do not encroach onto streets. The most notable for this theme is Basilica 4, which reuses a portico from an earlier building to provide a façade with the street. It sees a sequence of two churches, the first of which dates from 360–600, based on a TPQ of a coin and TAQ of an inscription in situ, whilst the second dates from 439–600 based on the TPQ from a coin and TAQ from an inscription in situ: see appendix U2. 08PAN Salona (cathedral quarter, Lower Basilical Church): None of the three churches of the episcopal complex, in the north-west quarter of the city, encroach on the street to its east. Egger notes that there was a basilical church (presumed to be the second church on the site due to the finding of a fragmentary apse and associated walls), followed by a third church (‘Basilica Urbana’), to which was added a Cruciform Church. The lower basilical church has produced a column base, inscribed with two Chi-Rho monograms and the name ‘constant’, which strongly suggests the building took place under Constantine or his sons (so 312 to 361): W. Gerber, “Die älteren christlichen Kultanlagen”, in Forschungen in Salona, ed. W. Gerber vol. 1 (Vienna 1917) 79–88, with the inscription on p. 81 fig. 153. This provides us with a TPQ of 313 of the Edict of Milan, plus a TAQ of 426 from a mosaic inscription of the next phase of the complex. Dating summary: 313–426, midpoint 369.5, class Cs6 (absolute, inscription in situ), publication 3/3.

APPENDIX 1: A1 Churches Built Respecting Street Grids 08PAN Salona (cathedral quarter, ‘Basilica Urbana’): The ‘Basilica Urbana’ is dated by a mosaic inscription in the ambulatory of Synferius [here called Symphorianus], uncle and predecessor of Hesychius (bishop ca. AD 404–26). This records the undertaking of works ‘nova post vetera’, which Hesychius must have completed. Given that a mosaic is a very small undertaking, the inscription likely refers to the whole church. The best dating for the completion of construction is, as an absolute epigraphic one, 404–26. After all, we do not know how much Synferius built. There is further dating evidence from the church, but it is too late to be useful in deciding the construction date: fragments of a cancel screen / ambo from the cruciform church bear a monogram of a certain Honorius (two bishops of this name existed, who died ca. AD 505 and ca. 547). Dating summary: 404–26, midpoint 415, class Cs6 (absolute, inscription in situ), publication 3/3. 08PAN Salona (cathedral quarter, cruciform church): The cruciform church, on top of the ‘Basilica Urbana’, could conceivably have been erected to host a relic of St. Peter, which an inscription found elsewhere suggests was sent to the city at this time. This ‘relic inscription’ is dated to the late 5th c. on palaeographic grounds, but does not provide a solid basis for dating the complex, as it might have been carved sometime after the arrival of the relic in the city: see R. Egger, “Zur Entstehungsgeschichte und Bedeutung der Kirchen von Salona”, in Forschungen in Salona, ed. W. Gerber vol. 1 (Vienna 1917) 89–93. For a review of stylistic arguments used to date the church, which I do not use here, see this same publication. See furthermore the first few pages of N. Duval, E. Marin, M. Catherine et al., Salona I. Sculpture Architecturale (CEFR 194) (Rome 1994) for details of suggested dates for the cathedral complex. Of stronger dating arguments, we can note that the cruciform church post-dated the ‘Basilica Urbana’ of 404–26, with its mosaic inscription (above). One should also note an eastern entrance porch to the complex, bearing the monogram of a bishop Peter of AD 554–62. This monogram provides a TAQ for the church. Furthermore, the eastern entrance also implies respect of the same minor street, which seems to have been restored in this period, for which see appendices C3 and E1. Later walls, apparently not connected to the late antique church phase, do block the street further south, as noted in W. Gerber, “Römische Profanbauten”, in Forschungen in Salona, ed. W. Gerber, vol. 1 (Vienna 1917) (100–38) 103 fig. 187. Dating summary: 404–562, midpoint 483, class Cs6 (absolute, inscriptions in situ), publication 3/3. 11THR Novae (Episcopal Basilica): The church does not trespass onto the line of the street to its east. Very little chronological evidence has been published, but S. ParnickiPudelko, The Episcopal Basilica in Novae: Archaeological Research 1976–1990 (Poznan 1995) 54–55, notes that the

85 primary construction of the basilica over the remnants of the legionary fortress may post-date a site-wide disaster of the early 5th c. This ‘disaster’ is suggested by the abandonment of very large quantities of coins of Arcadius (395– 408) and Honorius (393–423) across the settlement, which provide an associative TPQ. In a secondary phase a new pulpit and side apses, flanking the main apse, were added to the church; the excavators would like to attribute these to the time of Justinian, although they do not present any evidence to support this, other than general parallels from elsewhere in Bulgaria, without firmly dated examples. The suggestion that the church construction dates from the residence of Theoderic the Great here in the 480s should be disregarded. There is no other TAQ except 616, by which time Roman control and urban occupation of the Balkans had collapsed. Dating summary: range 395–616, midpoint 505.5, class Cs3 (associative, coins), z (regional development), publication 2/3. Long date. 10MAC Stobi (episcopal church, phase 2): The episcopal church complex does not encroach over the main street, onto which the second phase of its atrium fronts. This can be seen in E. Kitzinger, “A Survey of the Early Christian town of Stobi”, DOP 3 (1946) (83–161) 87–110; J. Wiseman, Stobi. A Guide to the Excavations (Belgrade 1973) 26–28; K.M. Hattersley-Smith, Byzantine Public Architecture between the Fourth and Early Eleventh Centuries AD, with Special Reference to the Towns of Byzantine Macedonia (Thessaloniki 1996) 43–45 and 53. Of dating, there is a coin of the 360–70s “deposited soon after it was minted”, found beneath the floor of the earlier church’s south aisle, and two coins of 425–50 (Theodosius II and Valentinian III , which I took to mean a single coin type serving both rulers) found beneath the south aisle of the second episcopal basilica: Hattersley-Smith (1996) 43–45 and 53. These finds give a weak contextual date. Hattersley-Smith provides references to reports and other discussions. The most accessible dating discussion is R.E. Kolarik, “Mosaics of the early church at Stobi”, DOP 41 (1987) (295–306) 297 (lower church) and J. Wiseman and D. Mano-Zissi, “Excavations at Stobi, 1972”, AJA 77.4 (1973) (391–403) 397–98 (upper church). Given the coin evidence, I do not want to enter into the style of the wall paintings or the mosaics found here, which I regard as providing weaker dating. We could mention however (as does Kitzinger (1946) p. 103) that the ‘Theodosian’ capitals are comparable to St. John Studios’ basilica in Constantinople of ca. 450, as well as the plan (p. 101). This is a useful well-dated example that is prestigious, specific and relatively close in regional terms. Dating summary for second phase: range 425–450, midpoint 437.5, class Cs8 (contextual coins), Cs1 (architectural style), publication 3/3.

86 10MAC Stobi (Northern Basilica): The Northern Basilica also respects the street grid. It is not dated with certainty: E. Kitzinger, “A Survey of the Early Christian town of Stobi”, DOP 3 (1946) (83–161) 131–35; J. Wiseman, Stobi. A Guide to the Excavations (Belgrade 1973) 30–33. These works support a late 5th to early 6th c. date based on architectural preferences. This date lacks any archaeological foundation, although it is still maintained by the official website: http://www.stobi.mk/Templates/Pages/Excavations .aspx?page=179 (last accessed July 2014). The date therefore has to be a generic one, bounded by a TPQ of 313 (Edict of Milan) to 616 (end of Roman Balkans). Dating summary: range 313–616, midpoint 464.5, class x (historical text), z (background regional), publication 0/3. Generic late antique date. 13ASI Hierapolis: The basilica above the theatre respects entirely the previous street grid, according to: G. Scardozzi, “Richerche topografiche e telerilevamento”, in Hierapolis di Frigia I: Le attività delle campagne di scavo e restauro, edd. F. D’Andria and M.P. Caggia (Istanbul 2007) (67–86) 83 with n. 33. A description of the church is provided by P. Arthur, Byzantine and Turkish Hierapolis (Pamukkale) (Istanbul 2006) 148–51, noting no evidence for its dating except its Ionic capitals supported by impost blocks strongly comparable to the cathedral. The cathedral has a suggested date of the second half of the 5th to the first half of the 6th c. based on two features: (i) the polygonal apse, comparable to the church of St. John Studios in Constantinople, which we may take as an architectural exemplar and so derive a TPQ from it for the Hierapolis church; (ii) the absence of features associated with the adventurous architecture of Justinian’s reign: see appendix A4b. See also N. Gullino, “La basilica sopra il teatro”, in Saggi in onore di Paolo Verzone (Hierapolis 4), ed. D. de Bernardi Ferreo (Rome 2002) 203–14. Dating summary: range 450–546, midpoint 498, class x (historical text), Cs1 (architectural), publication 1/3. 13ASI Xanthos (Lycia): The Eastern Basilica / cathedral does not encroach upon the adjacent north-south road. It is summarised with references to site reports in J. des Courtils, Guide de Xanthos et du Létôon (Istanbul 2003) 90–95. The church is also notable for not spoliating or using the adjacent civil basilica, across the street from it: L. Cavalier, pers. comm. The site is not yet fully published and has a complex difficult chronology, making use of much earlier fills. However, there are two phases to situate between earthquakes of the end of the 5th c. and the middle of the 6th c.: J.-P. Sodini, pers. comm. March 2017. The first phase of mosaics is believed to be of a “rainbow” style, which began at the end of the 4th c. in Syria: des Courtils (2003) 90, although no comparisons with dated examples are given to support this. I will accept a date based on catch-all earthquake chronology, given the quality of

APPENDIX 1: A1 Churches Built Respecting Street Grids the stratigraphic excavation associated with this team, but until the final publication appears the date must remain provisional. Dating summary (both phases): 487.5–550, midpoint 528.75, class Cs2 (catch-all other, earthquake), publication 1/3. 13ASI Cremna (6): Six intramural churches recorded by the architectural survey of the site are not known to encroach onto the street grid, although only in two cases can this be positively demonstrated: S. Mitchell et al., Cremna in Pisidia: an Ancient City in Peace and War (London 1995) 219–32. The churches respect the streets, although Church G includes some columns that might once have been part of the colonnaded street. The dating of these churches, which have not been excavated, goes beyond the interest of the topic. But all are basilical, and of dimensions that suggest a late antique origin. Dating must remain as generic late antique (after Edict of Milan of 313, before the Persian invasions of Asia Minor of 614). Dating summary: range 313–614, midpoint 463.5, class x (historical text), z (background regional), Cs1 (architectural), publication: 0/3. Generic late antique date. 15ORI Anazarbos (Tetraconch / Triconch Church): Two churches here can be shown to respect the street grid. Firstly, the tetraconch / triconch church revealed by geophysics seems to fit into the existing street grid without modifying it: R. Posamentir, “Anazarbos in Late Antiquity”, in Archaeology and the Cities of Asia Minor in Late Antiquity, edd. O. Dally and C. Ratté (Kelsey Museum Publication 6) (Ann Arbor 2011) (205–24) 214. There is nothing to date the church, except the Edict of Milan (313) and the first Persian invasions of Asia Minor (614). This form of church existed across a wide span of Late Antiquity in the region, perhaps as early as the reign of Constantine: W.E. Kleinbauer, “The origin and functions of the aisled tetraconch churches in Syria and northern Mesopotamia”, DOP 27 (1973) 89–114. Dating summary: range 313–614, midpoint 463.5, class x (historical text), z (background regional), Cs1 (architectural), publication: 0/3 (as based on geophysical survey). Generic late antique date. 15ORI Anazarbos (Church of the Apostles): The Church of the Apostles also respects streets, on three sides, as far as can be seen from plans based on remote sensing and surface survey: R. Posamentir, “Anazarbos in Late Antiquity”, in Archaeology and the Cities of Asia Minor in Late Antiquity, edd. O. Dally and C. Ratté (Kelsey Museum Publication 6) (Ann Arbor 2011) (205–24) 210, 214–215 fig. 12a and 12b. The church, made out of reused stone, has been speculatively dated to ca. 500, based on its unusual plan, which includes a passage running round the apse. This plan is also found in a village church (at Akören, nearby) that can be dated based on two criteria: (i) by an inscription (of 504, attached to a side chapel / parekklesion leading off it);

87

APPENDIX 1: A1 Churches Built Respecting Street Grids (ii) by stylistic similarities in its ornament with the rest of the churches in the settlement, one of which dates to 524. This had led to the suggestion that the Akören church was built shortly before 500: F. Hild, H. Hellenkemper and G. Hellenkemper-Salies, “Kommagene-Kilikien-Isaurien”, Reallexikon zur Byzantinischen Kunst IV (1990) (919–356) 198–201 (not seen); G. Mietke, “Survey der römisch-frühbyzantinischen Siedlung bei Akören in Kilikien 1994”, Araştırma Sonuçları Toplantısı 13.1 (1996) (35–48) 39–40. However, these hypotheses provide only a weak basis for a stylistic dating of the Anazarbos church. The Akören church is only a minor church, from which architectural influence would not normally spread to greater buildings. Rather the inverse would be true. As such, its similarities cannot be accepted as providing poor dating evidence for Anazarbos, under the rules of this study. For further references, see Mietke (1996) 40–41. Dating summary: ca. 500, class Cs1 (architectural style), publication: 0/3. Poor. 15ORI Palmyra (Basilica 1 in north-east quarter): Basilica 1 was installed in the ruins of a building, apparently in the 6th c. AD, not earlier, as once believed. No reasons for this dating have been published. It did not encroach on the streets: M. Gawlikowski, “Palmyra excavations 1997”, Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean 9 (1997) (197–211) 208–209. It was abandoned in the 8th or 9th c. “according to the pottery finds”: M. Gawlikowski, “Palmyra”, Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean 1 (1989) (37–44) 44. Given the stated use of pottery as a chronological indicator by this team, I think it is likely that the construction date they give here also depends on ceramics; I will assume this is so until I learn otherwise. However, I will date the church based on associative finds, rather than assume a contextual date. Dating summary: ca. 550, class Cs3 (associative finds), publication: 2/3. 15ORI Palmyra (Basilica 2 in north-east quarter): Basilica 2 also respects the road though it is built right up to its edge. It could be given a TPQ by the presence of a Kufic inscription from an Islamic building, reused in its paving, and also by the presence of an [unspecified] 8th c. coin under one of the columns. A TAQ comes from the fill [no details of finds provided, but likely pottery based on rest of excavation] in the nave and aisles and the robber trenches, which apparently suggest an abandonment in the 8th–9th c.: M. Gawlikowski, “Palmyra excavations 1997”, Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean 9 (1997) (197–211) 205–206. We should also note that the church directly overlies fill deposits, in the rooms underneath, which had partly served as pottery production sites. The pottery of the fill, throughout, is “late 3rd / 4th century date, including some African Red Slip, a Kapitan II amphora, a lamp of type K, etc.”: M. Gawlikowski, “Palmyra season 1999”,

Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean 11 (1999) (249–60) 255–56. [Amphora Käpitan 2 is 200–400 RADR; Bailey lamp type K is 200–315.3 Bon; unfortunately the ARS is unspecified]. The excavators talk of an empty field before the church was built, but the absence of occupation between the 4th–8th centuries on the site, does raise a suspicion that there might be a late 4th or early 5th c. church phase hidden within the basilica. For the moment, the 8th c. coin provides the best TPQ, with the abandonment in the 8th– 9th c. as the TAQ. Dating summary: range 700–900, midpoint 800, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), class Cs7 (TPQ coin), publication: 2/3. 15ORI Palmyra (Basilica 3 in north-east quarter): Basilica 3 (not dated) incorporates the road into its atrium, but also allows it to run through it. However, later the road was walled off from the church, whilst allowing the atrium (now more of a porch) to continue to exist: M. Gawlikowski, “Palmyra season 2001”, Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean 13 (2001) (257–69) 262. This could be a late antique church, but equally could be 8th–9th c. This is the likely date of its abandonment according to the excavators, so it is better to keep it as undated. Dating summary: Undated. 15ORI Palmyra (Basilica 4 in north-east quarter): Basilica 4 encroaches onto the projected line of the street in its apse, see: G. Majcherek, “Polish archaeological mission to Palmyra. Seasons 2008 and 2009”, Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean 21 (2012) 459–79. It does not encroach, however, onto the busier street in front of it, from which two other churches have their entrances. However, some caution is warranted regarding this last encroachment, as the street plan here is far from completely known. Survey work has revealed that the streets away from the main road were arranged in long roads, generally perpendicular to the main street, but that these did not form a grid of sidestreets in the other direction, as was once thought: see map of R. Saupin and Th. Fournet, reproduced in C. Delplace and J. Dentzer-Feydey, L’Agora de Palmyre (Bordeaux-Beirut 2005) 12, fig. 2. Basilica 4 could be a late antique church, but equally it could be 8th–9th c., given the history of the city, so it is better to keep it as undated. Dating summary: Undated.

A2a Churches Encroaching onto Major Streets

02HIS Valencia (Valentia) (Cathedral mausoleum): A crossshaped mausoleum was built, completely blocking the Cardo Maximus east of a large basilica church (likely the cathedral) in the 6th c. Previously this central area of Valencia had not seen streets encroached by new late antique buildings; the ‘cathedral’ itself did not obliterate the roadway, and was likely built before these annex structures that did: A. Ribera, “Origen i desevolupament del

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APPENDIX 1: A2b Churches Encroaching onto Minor Streets

nucli episcopal de València”, in VI reunion d’arqueologia cristiana hispànica. Lesciutats tardoantiques d’Hispania: Cristianització i topografia, edd. J.M. Gurt and A. Ribera (Barcelona 2005) (207–43) 218–19. On p. 224, Ribera points out 6th c. (unspecified) ceramics from the construction layers of the mausoleum, spolia from Roman buildings and carbon 14 dates (unspecified) of a skeleton found buried inside the mausoleum (in the central tomb) of the mid 6th c. A further summary report mentions the dating as around the mid 6th c., giving the worryingly precise date of 560, which is not how radiocarbon dating is supposed to be quoted, “enterrado en tornoa mitad del Siglo VI (560)”: R. Soriano Sánchez, “El monumento funerario de la cárcel de San Vicente y las tumbas privilegiadas”, in Los orígenes del cristianismo en Valencia y su entorno, ed. A. Ribera i Lacomba (Valencia 2000) (187–92) 189. I am not interested here in arguments linking the construction of the church or its dependencies to historical figures, such as the city’s 6th c. bishop Justinian. Dating summary: ca. 560, class Cs10 (scientific) and Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 1/3. 02HIS Valencia (Valentia) (Cathedral baptistery): A possible baptistery was built, completely blocking the Cardo Maximus, east of the large basilical church (likely the cathedral). Ceramics were recovered from the fill of the foundation trench: Hayes 101 de Clara D (given here as AD 535–600, rather than 550–600 as in LRP / SLRP) [E. Vacarro pers. comm. 2017 believes the Valentian date to be correct], with cooking pots (cazuelas) of M.G. Fulford and D.P.S. Peacock, Excavations at Carthage—The British Mission: vol. 1.2: The Avenue du President Habib Bourguiba, Salammbo: The Pottery and Other Ceramic Objects from the Site (Sheffield 1984) fig. 68 12.1 (believed to be of AD 539–75), with some other unspecified pieces not contradicting a date in the mid 6th c. for this layer. The layer is given a date of ca. AD 550 by the excavators, a date which one hopes was not influenced by the radiocarbon date from the neighbouring mausoleum: R. Albiach et al., “Las últimas excavaciones (1992–1998) del solar de l’Almonia: nuevos datos de la zona episcopal de Valentia”, in V Reunió d’Arqueologia Cristiana Hispànica: Cartagena, 16–19 d’abril de 1998 = V Reunión de Arqueología Cristiana Hispánica: Cartagena, 16–19 de abril 1998, (Barcelona 2000) (63–86) 76. Overall, we must admit that the latest clearly identified finds are of Hayes 101, which alongside other mid-6th c. material should suggest a contextual date range of 535–60. Significantly, the baptistery is connected by a drain to the main sewer, showing that it was still functioning, as indeed it did into Early Islamic times [I am not sure what evidence the latter observation depends upon]: J. Martínez Jiménez, “The continuity of Roman water supply systems in postRoman Hispania: the case of Valentia, a reliable example?”, Revista Arkeogazte 1 (2011) 125–44.

Dating summary: 535–60, midpoint 547.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3. 06ITS Egnatia (north-south main street): The street was blocked by the apse of a church, perhaps totally, although this is not certain as the street is not fully excavated here: L. Lavan site observation April 2015. I have not found reports for this excavation. Dating summary: Undated. 10MAC Philippi: The Episcopal Octagon narrowed the Commercial Road to its south (a major street) from ca. 9 m to 5.5 m by the building of an enclosure (see appendix E1 below). This happened in the second phase of the Octagon, which can be dated to the 6th c., on account of the Octagon’s similar design to SS Sergius and Bacchus (completed AD 536) and Hagia Sophia (completed AD 537), with which it shares ‘semi-domes’, the first churches in the Balkans to be built in this manner. See amongst the many preliminary reports: S. Pelekanidès, “Ανασκαφή Φιλίππων”, Πρακτικά (1978) (64–72) 67 (detailed plan); S. Pelekanidès, “Ανασκαφή Φιλίππων”, Πρακτικά (1979) (90–99) 98 (phase plan). For a chronological summary, with full references, see J.-P. Sodini, “L’architecture religieuse de Philippes, entre Rome, Thessalonique et Constantinople”, CRAI (2014) (1509–42) 1523–25, with the above architectural comments, to which one might add that it shares an elongated apse with the Constantinopolitan churches just mentioned. The only TAQ is the regional downturn that followed the definitive loss of control of the Balkans by the Romans by AD 616. I am grateful to J.-P. Sodini for his discussion on this. Dating summary (third phase of complex / 2nd Octagon, pedimental porch with recesses in façade): range 536–616, midpoint 576, class Cs1 (architectural style), z (regional development), publication 3/3. 13ASI Ariassos: The main street, by the monumental arch, as well as the agora, are each narrowed by separate basilical churches: S. Mitchell, “Ariassos 1990”, AnatSt 41 (1991) (159–72) 165, with A. Schultz, “Ariassos. Eine HellenistichRömische Stadt in Pisidien”, in Forschungen in Pisidien, ed. E. Schwertheim (Asia Minor Studien 6) (Bonn 1992) (29– 42) 32, fig. 1. There is nothing to date the basilica narrowing the street, except a TPQ of 313 (Edict of Milan) and a TAQ of the Persian invasion of Asia Minor in 614. Dating summary: range 313–614, midpoint 463.5, class x (historical text), Cs1 (architectural), publication 0/3. Generic late antique date.

A2b Churches Encroaching onto Minor Streets

06ITS Rome (Oratory of the Holy Cross, in the Lateran): This structure was built, with two other oratories, under Pope Hilarius (AD 461–68) (Lib. Pont. 48.2) (following here the edition of Mommsen), as a dependency of the baptistery of St. John Lateran. The oratory is known from Renaissance plans only, and was demolished in the 16th c. The building

APPENDIX 1: A2b Churches Encroaching onto Minor Streets encroached a road, as did one of the other in the same group of oratories. This road measures ca. 8 m wide in the plan of M. Mulryan, Spatial ‘Christianisation’ in Context: Strategic Intramural Building in Rome from the 4th–7th c. A.D. (Oxford 2014) fig. 23. However, an inscription copied from a stone (now lost) from the courtyard in front of the church describes the district, just before the oratory was built, as being covered by rubble to a great height. This implies that the oratory did not encroach onto a working street: ILCV 977 = ICUR 2.1.147 (not seen). It suggests that the street was already disused before the encroachment began. Therefore, we are not really dealing with an encroachment. The building is summarised by Mulryan (2014) 58–59, with fig. 23. For the plans, which show that the Lateran baptistery was already encroaching on the street a little, see M. Johnson, “The fifth century oratory of the holy cross at the Lateran in Rome”, Architectura 25.2 (1995) (128–55) esp. 147–52 and fig. 20. See also O. Brandt, “l’Oratorio della Santa Croce”, MEFRA 116 (2004) 79–93. Dating summary: range 461–68, midpoint 464.5, class x (historical text), publication 3/3. 06ITS Rome (titulus Marci, in Piazza Venezia): The apse of the first phase of this church was built over the paving of a basalt street. It is not known how wide this street was or what percentage of the street was narrowed. The church was founded by Pope Mark (pope in AD 336 only) as described by Lib. Pont. 35.3 (following here the edition of Mommsen). The passage of the text is a precise description of land granting, which is thought to reflect a real document, rather than a 6th c. invention. The building is summarised by M. Mulryan, Spatial ‘Christianisation’ in Context: Strategic Intramural Building in Rome from the 4th–7th c. A.D. (Oxford 2014) 48–50; see also M. Cecchelli, “S. Marcus, titulus”, LTUR 3,212–13. For details of the physical structure, see M. Cecchelli, ‘S. Marco a Piazza Venezia: una basilica romana del periodo constantiniano’, in Costantino il Grande: dall’ antichità all’umanesimo: Colloquio sul cristianesimo nel mondo antico: Macerata 18–20 Dicembre 1990, 2 vols., edd. G. Bonamente and F. Fusco (Macerata 1992–93) 299–310, with apse shown on street on figs. 3–5. In the latter article, dating for the apse is based only on unspecified parallels with opus listatum walls, of the end of the 3rd and 4th c. (p. 306). For other summaries: M. Cecchelli, ‘La basilica di S. Marco a Piazza Venezia (Roma): nuove scoperte e indagini’, in Akten des XII. Internationalen Kongresses für Christliche Archäologie, edd. E. Dassmann and J. Engemann, vol. 2 (Münster 1995) (640–44) 642; M. Cecchelli, ‘S. Marco’, in Roma dall’antichità al medioevo, vol. 1: Archeologia e storia nel Museo Nazionale Romano Crypta Balbi, edd. M.S. Arena et al. (Rome 2001) (635–36) 635 (not seen). Dating summary: 336, class x (historical texts), publication 3/3.

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07AFR Thamugadi (Timgad): A basilica of two phases entirely blocks one minor cardo and narrows one minor decumanus: see A. Ballu, Les ruines de Timgad (Paris 1897) 26–30 and I. Gui, N. Duval and J.-P. Caillet, Basiliques chrétiennes d’Afrique du Nord vol. 1: Inventaire de l’Algérie (Paris 1992) 267, who have full references to previous literature, though there appears to be no dating evidence according to this summary. In the absence of other indicators, the church could potentially date from either the late antique or Early Islamic period, so is best kept as undated. Dating summary: Undated. 07AFR Carthage (Basilica of Carthagenna): The ‘Monument a colonnes’, under the 6th c. Christian basilica, was constructed partly across cardines 9E and 10E (between decumani 2S and 3S). It narrowed each road by ca. 2 m, leaving only 4 m to Cardo 10E. The subsequent 6th c. basilica used the same space in its plan, with its apses reaching the edge of the plot that the first monument had defined. The date of the first structure (the ‘Monument a colonnes’) can be suggested thanks to a coin of AD 378–83 found in the mortar of the foundation of the north wall, although this on its own only provides a TPQ: L. Ennabli, Carthage, une métropole chrétienne du IV e à la fin du VIIe siècle (Paris 1997) 64 n. 342. A rough associative TAQ for the first structure can be obtained by the discovery of a coin of 522–30 in the foundation layer of the mosaics of the subsequent basilica church (p. 66 with n. 345). These mosaics are considered to be of the first half of the 6th c., based on local stylistic parallels, such as colours and materials, as well as designs such as birds in squares and other details, the parallels for which I do not want to go into here: K.M.D. Dunbabin, “Mosaics of the Byzantine period in Carthage: problems and directions of research”, Cahiers des Études Anciennes 17 (1985) (9–30) 12–16. I was not able to consult the excavation report on the church: L. Ennabli, La basilique de Carthagenna et le locus des sept moines de Gafsa: nouveaux édifices chrétiens de Carthage (Paris 2000). Rooms attached to the 6th c. church, on its south side, were excavated by the American Mission to Carthage, but they were only able to date the robbing phases, which occurred sometimes after the deposition of a coin of AD 659–88: R. Brown and J.H. Humphrey, “The stratigraphy of the 1975 season”, in Excavations at Carthage 1975 conducted by the University of Michigan, vol. 2 (Ann Arbor 1978) (27–112) 83 n. 26; S. Ellis, “The ecclesiastical complex: stratigraphic report 1976 (insula D 2/3, K 9/10)”, in Excavations at Carthage 1976 conducted by the University of Michigan, vol. 3, ed. J.H. Humphrey (Ann Arbor 1977) 41–67, esp. 41, 45–46. This is site no. 8 in H. Broise, “L’évolution des insulae des maisons du cryptoportique et de la rotonde dans le contexte urbain”, in Carthage, colline de l’Odéon. Maisons de la rotonde et du cryptoportique (Recherches 1987–2000), vol. 2,

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APPENDIX 1: A3 Portico and Sidewalk Encroachment by Benches

edd. C. Balmelle, A. Bourgeois, H. Broise, J.-P. Darmon, and M. Ennaïfer (CEFR 457) (Rome 2012) (333–59) 345 fig. 384 site no. 8. Broise proposes in his article (esp. pp. 348–52) that this encroachment is part of a systematic narrowing of the roadways, similar to the narrowing of streets by the Antonine Monument. These developments likely had legal sanction from the 2nd c. onwards. Dating summary (The ‘Monument a colonnes’): range 379–522, midpoint 450.5, class Cs7 (TPQ coin), Cs3 (associative, coin), Cs1 (artistic style), publication 3/3. 07AFR Lepcis Magna: The church on the forum vetus blocks a minor street with its apse. It is undated except for parallels in its plan (aisle colonnades of twinned columns set in a three-aisled plan) with a church in Sabratha that was built in the period 533–625, as suggested by the finds and inscriptions from the associated cemetery and the overall concept of a ‘renewal’ in the centre of the city: see appendix U2. Dating summary: range 533–625, midpoint 579, class Cs1 (architectural parallels), publication 3/3. Poor. 11THR Thracian Philippopolis: The basilica, in the centre of the city, blocks one cardo completely: E. Kessiakova, “Une nouvelle basilique à Philippopolis”, in Actes du XIe congrès international d’archéologie chrétienne (CEFR 123 / Studi di antichità Cristiana 41) (Rome 1989) 2539–59. The decoration and plan of the basilica are certainly late antique, but it is difficult to justify any more precision. The church has been dated, based on its plan, to the first half of the 5th c. It is also noted by Kessiakova that a cemetery above the church has a grave containing a coin of Tiberius Constantine (AD 578–82). However, no parallels are cited for the plan, so this reasoning is to be discounted. Furthermore, the coin from the grave is not enough on its own to provide a contextual date for a TAQ, only an associative date. The cemetery could easily have begun at the very end of the urban period of the Balkans in 616, when this coin could have been still in use. Thus, we have to fall back on 616—when the Romans lost control of the northern Balkans, bringing regional urban collapse—as providing a generic TAQ. The Edict of Milan of 313 provides a TPQ for the church. The significance of this encroachment is reduced by a general modification of the street systems detected in the lower city after the mid-3rd c. At this time many streets were abandoned and others were reconstructed 1 m above their previous levels, after a major destruction marked by levels containing coins of 270–82: see appendix B7. I do not wish to invoke the Gothic sack of Philippopolis of AD 251 as a chronological argument here. Dating summary: range 313–616, midpoint 464.5 generic, class x (historical text), z (background regional), publication 1/3. Generic late antique date.

See also (appendix A4b): 10MAC Philippi (Octagon) (2): The Octagon complex encroached onto a minor street to its east and closed a minor street to the west with its atrium, sometime in the period 404–537. See also (appendix A4b): 10MAC Philippi (Basilica B) (2): Basilica B is built over two minor streets, as well as a gymnasium and a macellum. There is an earlier transept basilica within the extant church, which may date anytime within the period 313–562. See also (appendix B7): 07AFR Sitifis (Sétif) (Basilica A) (2): Basilica A was built encroaching two minor streets, one with its apse, sometime between AD 355 and 378. Discounted: 02HIS Barcelona (Barcino): A church is believed to have encroached onto a cardo (Tram de Carrer 4) in the 4th c., at least with the walls of its entrance: N. Romani i Sala, Carrers i serveis viaris a les ciutats romanes del conventus tarraconensis (s. ii ac-vi dc): evolució i tècniques constructives (Tarragona 2012) http://www.tdx.cat/handle/10803/96884 (last accessed July 2014) 548–49 with a large bibliography. However, this encroachment is apparently hypothetical, with no direct archaeological remains surviving: N. Romani i Sala, pers. comm 2015. The theory seems to be simply based on the supposition that the cathedral lies under the present Romanesque and Gothic cathedral: C. Bonnet and J. Beltrán de Heredia, “El primer grupo episcopal de Barcelona”, in Sedes regiae (ann. 400– 800), edd. G. Ripoll and J.M. Gurt (Col. Series maior 6. Reial Academia de les Bones Lletres) (Barcelona 2000) (467–90) 468–69. For this reason, I have not explored the literature on this encroachment further.

A3 Portico and Sidewalk Encroachment by Benches

04VIE Rauranum (Gaul) (Rue 1): Just beyond the west portico, which fronts an artisanal establishment, two parallel wall foundations cut perpendicularly across a sidewalk. They may represent benches, and are described as dating sometime before the end of the 4th c. However, no evidence is supplied to support this in N. Dieudonné-Glad, “Un carrefour de rues dans l’agglomération de Rauranum (Rom.79)”, in La rue dans l’Antiquité. Définition, aménagement, devenir. Actes du colloque de Poitiers (7–9 Septembre 2006), edd. P. Ballet, N. Dieudonné-Glad and C. Saliou (Rennes 2008) (347–53) 349 fig. 2b, 352. A more detailed report is N. Dieudonné-Glad, “Rom (Deux-Sèvres): fouille d’un nouvel îlot de l’agglomération antique”, Bulletin de l’Association des Archéologues de Poitou-Charentes 34 (2005) 37–48 (with good plan on 38 fig. 3). On the plan of Dieudonné-Glad (2005) a wall cutting across the sidewalk, leaning against a portico pier emplacement, is labelled as MR 19 and is attributed to the final occupation of the site, perhaps because it negates the through-route function of the sidewalk. Another

APPENDIX 1: A4a Ephemeral Building over Roadways

91

obstruction on the same sidewalk, leaning against the next pier emplacement to the N, is made of reused blocks, but does not seem to have entirely blocked the sidewalk. We are told on p. 48 that a fire layer in room B in building 1 (which the ‘bench’ sits outside) contains, as its latest find, a coin of Valentinian I of 364–67. This seems to be the basis on which Dieudonné-Glad ends the sequence in the 4th c., as the short paragraph describing this detail bears the subheading “Chronologie absolue de la dernière occupation”. Presumably there are no later finds from the site. Overall, the only basis for providing a TPQ seems to be the aesthetic disjuncture created by blocking the sidewalk with small-scale structures and the presence of reused material, for the two walls respectively, both of which suggest a date after the mid-3rd c. I am not happy about giving the fire a date based on one coin. It cannot support a contextual date, but we can perhaps accept a poor associative date, allowing 50 years for the circulation of the coin, so placing the fire no later than 417. The fire can thus give a poor TPQ for the benches, based on phase of site development, as the two spaces are immediately adjacent. N.B. on p. 350 we are told that the pillars of the portico (which alternated one pillar then one column) still conserved a plaster with polychrome painting until the end of the 4th c., when they collapsed (they are stated to have been built in the 3rd c.). Dating summary: range 250–417, midpoint 333.5, class Cs5 (catch-all, aesthetic disjuncture), Cs4 (reused material, general presence), Cs3 (associative, phase of development), publication 3/3. Poor. 06ITS Ostia (via di Diana): The benches outside the ‘thermopolium’ (Insula 1.2.5) date to sometime after the installation of rough walls of opus vittatum mixtum A, which block the sidewalk. These rough walls were inserted here to buttress a structurally unsound projecting storey. They were clad with roughly-painted imitation-marble frescoes, which was not the primary decorative scheme of the building. The benches set in front of the rough walls were set so as to serve a bar counter, which contained a reused inscription. This dates to sometime after AD 205: it relates to Fulvius Plautianus (CIL 14.4392), a leading politician of the time of Septimius Severus, who was executed in AD 205 and whose name was erased, although the name of his son (executed in AD 212) was not. The reuse of such inscribed marbles as veneers should date to sometime after the mid-3rd c. The upper limit for the occupation of the bar is difficult to determine. However, Kent excavations on the nearby Foro della statua eroica and on the palaestra to the south of the Foro found no pottery, glass or coins extending beyond the mid 5th c., and only very few ceramics in the Main Forum Sidewalk area, in disturbed contexts: D. Holman, “The coins”, B. Lepri, “The glass”, and E. Vacarro and S. Costa, “The pottery”, in Public Space in Late Antique Ostia, vol. 1, ed. L. Lavan

(London forthcoming). Thus, the benches probably belong to the later 3rd–5th c. phase of the building, on which see the appendix C7 on sidewalks, with author site observations 2007. Dating summary: 250–450, midpoint 350, class Cs7 (TPQ reused inscription), Cs4 (reused material), z (associative, site development), publication 3/3 and 2/3. 15ORI Antioch in Syria (Main Street): Tables, chairs (depicted) and couches (implied by reclining figures) are depicted on the Yakto mosaic’s scene of thermopolia on the main street of Antioch: J. Lassus, “La mosaïque de Yakto”, in Antioch-on-the Orontes, vol. 1: The Excavations of 1932, ed. G.W. Elderkin (Princeton 1934) 134–35, 140–41, 150. The mosaic can be dated to the mid-5th c., by an inscription identifying the villa as belonging to Ardaburius, consul in 447 and magister militum per Orientem from AD 453 to 466, when he fell from favour; PLRE 2.135 Ardabur iunior 1. For the sake of simplicity, we can take the mosaic as dating from 453–66, because this is when his office would have encouraged him to reside at Antioch. Dating summary: 453–66, midpoint 459.5, class Cs6 (absolute, inscription), publication 3/3. See also (appendices C4 and C6a): 15ORI Caesarea Palestinae (Caesarea Maritima) (cardo W1): (3): Three benches were present in the west portico in front of the revenue office of the praetorium, dated to 400–450 (in two cases) and 500– 614 (in one case) by inscriptions set in the mosaic’s floors. See also (appendix C4): 15ORI Caesarea Palestinae (Caesarea Maritima) (cardo W1) (1): A bench was present in the last phase of occupation of the ‘Eastern stoa’, opposite the praetorium (the portico being dated to AD 200–300).

A4a Ephemeral Building over Roadways

06ITS Ostia (Decumanus) (2): Small-scale extensions of two rooms onto the road, opposite the Foro della statua eroica [FSE], were cleared away sometime in 385–89 or shortly before, as was a large row of shops in front of the Portico of Neptune, as part of a new street surface, set at a higher level. For the rooms opposite the FSE see: L. Lavan, “Public space in late antique Ostia: excavation and survey in 2008– 2011”, AJA 116.4 (2012) (649–91) 686. More recent inspection revealed the presence of reused bricks in the structure they butt onto, and also the presence of fragments of green porphyry in their own mortar. The latter suggests a late date from my knowledge of other building works, but I will only use the first criterion here, to argue for a date after the mid-3rd c., when reuse of building material becomes more prevalent: L. Lavan site observations 2012. For the shops in front of the Portico of Neptune, see G. Calza et al., Topografia generale (Scavi di Ostia 1) (Rome 1953) 29 (plan); D. Vaglieri, “Ostia”, NSc 6 (1909) (82–99) 88, confirming that they were found in this cut-down

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APPENDIX 1: A4b Merging of Insulae for Civil and Ecclesiastical Building Campaigns

condition by the excavators. My own topsoil test pits were able to confirm that the shops in front of the portico on the street were secondary to the portico: L. Lavan site observation 2012. This levelling of the Eastern Decumanus is dated by a number of indicators: it must be after the third quarter of the 3rd c., when phase 1a of the Foro della statua eroica was built at the lower level, but before the spolia portico outside the theatre was built at a higher level, which is associated with a statue base of 385–89, perhaps commemorating the governor who undertook the works. The shops on the road paving were also likely established as part of a renewal following a seismic event that affected the Portico of Neptune, where shops were given up and the portico was braced with piers. This perhaps happened after the ‘earthquake of 346’. This theory provides a TPQ for the encroaching shops and for the levelling works of 346. See appendix C8 for more details. Dating summary (establishment of encroachment by FSE): range 250–389, midpoint 319.5, class Cs4 (reused material, general presence), Cs6 (absolute, inscription on statue base possibly from portico), Cs3 (associative, phase of development), Cs2 (catch-all other, earthquake), publication 3/3. Dating summary (establishment of encroachment by Portico of Neptune): range 346–389, midpoint 367.5, class Cs6 (absolute, inscription on statue base possibly from portico), Cs3 (associative, phase of development), Cs2 (catch-all other, earthquake), publication 3/3. Dating summary (destruction of both sites): range 346–89, midpoint 367.5, class Cs3 (associative, phase of development), Cs6 (absolute, inscription on statue base possibly from portico), Cs2 (catch-all other, earthquake), publication 3/3. 13ASI Sagalassos: A number of private dwellings in a miniplaza by the north-west gate were levelled, as the area again took on an open character ca. AD 500. The dwellings were set just north of a major road as it exited through the city wall. Because the wall organised the space in this area, it gives the dwellings a TPQ of ca. AD 400, when they were constructed. Now a destruction layer, containing pottery dating to the “first half of the 6th c. AD”, and coins of the later 4th and 5th c. AD, created a new level, replacing the dwellings. Over this level, a sundial column was set: M. Waelkens et al., “The 1994 and 1995 excavation seasons at Sagalassos”, in Sagalassos IV. Report on the Survey and Excavation Campaigns of 1994 and 1995, edd. M. Waelkens and J. Poblome (Acta Archaeologica Lovaniensia Monographiae 9) (Leuven 1997) (103–216) 191; M. Waelkens et al., “The north-west Heroon at Sagalassos”, Sagalassos V. Report on the Survey and Excavation Campaigns of 1996 and 1997, edd. M. Waelkens and L. Loots (Acta Archaeologica Lovaniensia Monographiae 11/B)

(Leuven 2000) (551–92) 567–68. The works can be taken as dating to the first half of the 6th c. This is because we are not given dates for individual wares within Sagalassos Red Slip Ware, and so have to use the full dating range provided for the ceramics. Dating summary: range 500–550; midpoint 525; class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs8 (contextual coins); publication 2/3 and 3/3. See also (appendix C4): 04VIE Argentomagus: A building encroaching on a portico after the late 2nd to early 3rd c. was cleared away in the period 360–95. See also (appendix S5a): 06ITS Rome (Forum Pacis): An ephemeral building was cleared away in the 6th c.; 02HIS Ilici (Elche): An ephemeral building was cleared from the forum in 575–725.

A4b Merging of Insulae for Civil and Ecclesiastical Building Campaigns

Relating to minor streets only, as far as I know. 01BRI Exeter: A blocking wall appeared on a street east of the forum. This wall is associated with either period 2C (when mortar was dumped in this part of the street) or period 3A, which is the next (and last) period of monumental construction. There seem to be no pertinent datable finds from phase 2C for the street. However, there is some dating evidence from related layers in phase 2C from adjacent spaces. The construction layers of 2C and the floor of a shop of period 2B have both produced BB1 cooking pots with obtuse-angled lattices, given in the report as introduced ca. 250 [but now ca. 220 to late 4th c. on Potsherd. net]. Furthermore, a BB1 flanged bowl (from a shop in the 2C period) suggests to the excavator a date in the last quarter of the 3rd c. [although Potsherd.net has ca. 250 for conical flanged bowls], and so is the latest dated find from this phase. We also have some evidence from phase 3A. This has produced (from demolition debris in a hypocaust) an Oxford Ware rosette-stamped necked bowl, which the excavators consider does not seem to have come into production until ca. 340/50 [pp. 1–8 with [I think] p. 216 no. 207 fig. 67) [Young subtype not specified but Cunliffe 1975 type 36], and a sherd of a red-slipped New Forest vessel given as of 4th c. date [ca. 260–370 Potsherd.net]: P.T. Bidwell, The Legionary Bath-house and Basilica and Forum at Exeter (Exeter 1979) 102–103, 108. I take this information as providing a contextual date of 250–75 for phase 2A and a contextual date of 340–65 for phase 3A, based on allowing a 25 year period after the start date of the latest find in each layer. This gives us a TPQ of 250 and TAQ of 365 for the blocking wall. Dating summary: range 250–365, midpoint 307.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3. Exemplary. 03GAL Trier (Constantinian Aula Palatina): The audience hall of the palace inherited the site where a 2nd c. audience

APPENDIX 1: A4b Merging of Insulae for Civil and Ecclesiastical Building Campaigns hall (for a praetorium?) had covered a north-south street. The 2nd c. ‘praetorium’ was destroyed at some point, after which there was an intermediate building phase. When the Late Roman palace hall was built, part of it blocked a different east-west street: W. Reusch, “Die kaiserliche Palastaula. Archäologisch-historischer Beitrag”, in Die Basilika in Trier. Festschrift zur Wiederherstellung, 9. Dez. 1956 (Trier 1956) (11–39) 35–39; see also E.M. Whitman, Roman Trier and the Treveri (London 1970) 105–108, with improved plan on 106. Of dating, the Constantinian hall is given a first TPQ by a coin of AD 305 of Severus II, found inside masonry for the vestibule: see F.F. Kutzbach, (article title unknown) Trierer Zeitschrift 13 (1938) 240 (not seen). The hall is given a second TPQ and absolute date from the recovery of the same stamped tile CAPIO and ADIUTEX as used in the Constantinian fort of Deutz at Cologne (where it is associated with an inscription of Constantine, plus other tiles with the title CV = Constantinia Victrix awarded only after the victory over Maxentius in 312): see appendix B1. We cannot be sure that the tiles were not stored and used a little later, but the absence of CV tiles suggests a TAQ of 312. Both types of tiles are from the Moselle Valley however, so were not rarities here: J.-L. Massy, Les agglomérations secondaires de la Lorraine romaine (Besançon 1997) 74. T.D. Barnes, The New Empire of Diocletian and Constantine (Cambridge, Mass. and London 1982) 68–80 documents Constantine at Trier in 307, 310, 311, 313–314, 314–315, 316 and 328. Dating summary: range 305–12, midpoint 308.5, class Cs7 (TPQ coins) and Cs6 (TAQ inscription), publication 3/3. 03GAL Trier (for palatial building under the cathedral): The Double Church took up two insulae of the city’s street system. However, these insulae were already occupied in the late 3rd c. by palatial structures (the hall with the painted ceiling) and a three aisled hall, the latter of which cut a north-south road: T.K. Kempf, “Das haus der heiligen Helena”, Neues Trierer Jahrbuch (1978) 3–16. Thus, we are concerned here to date the encroachment of the street by the palatial structures, including a villa urbana, which they replaced / grew out from, rather than by the cathedral. For a TPQ, Kempf believes (p. 6) that the extension of a villa urbana over the road occurred after 275 (the date of a presumed destruction of the city by barbarians). This destruction is based on SHA Probus 13.6, which refers to 60 prominent cities falling to the barbarians since the death of Postumus [in 275]. Kempf thinks the extension probably occurred in AD 286, when Maximian came to Trier: his consulship began here on 1st January AD 287: Pan. Lat. 10(2).6.2 with commentary in edn. of C.E.V. Nixon and B.S. Rodgers, In Praise of Later Roman Emperors: The Panegyrici Latini. Introduction, Translation and Historical Commentary (Transformation of the Classical Heritage 21) (Berkeley 1994) 42–43. This is poor dating.

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For a TAQ, the extension of the villa urbana over the road and then the building of palatial structures (e.g. the painted room), occurred sometime before the cathedral was constructed. Indeed, coins of the early 4th c. associated with the cathedral’s foundation layers (though the description of their exact context is not very clear to me) provide an associative TAQ for the encroachment of ca. 318 (coins of AD 312–13, 314–15, 317–18). A coin of 320–21 was also found in the building above (Kempf (1978) 8–9 esp. n. 30 in the ‘Stickung’ of a ‘Portalvorlage’), but this coin alone, in the absence of others, does not really give a precise 321 date for the church, despite this being the year of important imperial festivals. The church building has been linked to Euseb. Vit. Const. 4.17, describing Constantine building a church in the palace. However, it is not clear that Trier is meant, or that this large church is meant. See also J. Zink, “Die Baugeschichte des Trierer Doms von den Anfängen im 4. Jahrhundert bis zur letzten Restaurierung”, in Der Trierer Dom, edd. G. Behrets et al. (Rheinischer Verein für Denkmalpflege und Landschaftsschutz. Jahrbuch 1978/79) (Neuss 1980) 17–111, with earlier bibliography, and other papers in the same volume (not seen), notably T.F. Kempf, “Erläuterungen zum Grundriß der frühchristlichen Doppelkirchenanlage in Trier mit den Bauperioden bis zum 13. Jahrhundert”, (112–116) esp. 113. See appendix J3 on the dating of the church atrium, which appears to be later, and certainly after 326, based on a TPQ provided by a coin. Overall, the range for the encroachment of the street must be taken at 275 at the earliest, and 318 at the latest, although the first date has a poor basis and the second is a relatively weak associative date. Dating summary: range 275–318, midpoint 296.5, class Cs8 (contextual coins), x (historical texts), publication 3/3. Poor. 08PAN Savaria: An apsidal hall and tri-apsed building completely block a road, perhaps as part of the development of an imperial palace. The hall did not have Christian liturgical features, and seems comparable to imperial palace halls rather than the praetoria of civil governors: E. Tóth, “Late antique imperial palace in Savaria (the question of the so-called Quirinius Basilica)”, ActaArchHung 25 (1973) 117–37 and plates 25–28. Dating is discussed in E. Tóth, “Die spätrömische Palastanlage von Savaria (Pannonia superior)”, in Bruckneudorf und Gamzigrad, Spätantike. Paläste und Großvillen im Donau-Balkan-Raum. Akten des Internationalen Kolloquiums in Bruckneudorf vom 15. bis 18. Oktober 2008, edd. G. v. Bülow and H. Zabehlicky (Bonn 2011) (275–84) 277–78, which reveals that there is no dating evidence for the complex except that it was constructed after the city wall. A TPQ for the apsidal hall complex therefore must be derived from the fortification. The first phase of this structure

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APPENDIX 1: A4b Merging of Insulae for Civil and Ecclesiastical Building Campaigns is dated to “after the first decade of the 2nd c.”, based on ceramics from the earthen bank behind (probably the time of Hadrian given the dating of roads established outside the city wall). The second phase of this is now dated to the ‘Marcomannic War’ ca. 170, based on ‘Antonine sigillata’ from a yellow layer, and on the discovery in front of the wall of a major destruction layer, which includes a coin of Marcus Aurelius: G. Dénes, “Zusammenfassung: Die Bauzeit der Stadtmauer von Savaria im Spiegel der Terra Sigillata”, in Savariai városfal. A városfal építési ideje a terra sigillaták tükrében, edd. T. Buocz and D. Gabler (Sárvár 2002) (59–132) 123–30, with details of the ceramic dating summarised on pp. 129–30. It is not clear from the reports I have been able to access if the palace complex covers over the first or second phase of the city wall; it does not seem that the yellow layer is definitely associated with the stone wall, which has sometimes been assumed to represent phase 2. The join between the palace and the wall is a hypothetical one, as the connection is shown to be a reconstruction (Tóth (1973) 127 fig. 4), though this wall would be clearly secondary to the fortification. An absolute date for the apsidal hall could be derived from the contention that it is part of an early 4th c. governor’s palace, based on mosaic parallels with villas from elsewhere in the region: Tóth (2011) 277–78. Certainly a governor did arrive in Savaria in the early 4th c. But nothing ties this structure to a governor. On the identification of late antique governor’s palaces see: L. Lavan, “Residences of late antique governors: a gazetteer”, AnTard 7 (2000) 135– 64. For an intra-urban structure, the best parallels for the large audience hall (28.4 m by ca. 13.7 m) are rather with the palace audience halls of Trier, Arles and Thessalonica (all built within cities that served as 4th c. imperial residences). This suggests a late 3rd to 4th c. date, which is probably the best guide to the chronology of the complex. Furthermore, Tóth (2011) 277–78 notes that the complex partially overlies a sanctuary complex and is the last monumental complex on the site, both factors that weakly suggest a 4th c. date. However, the large aula, which is the only distinctively palatial element on the site, is in fact the third phase of the site to block the road: E. Tóth, “A savariai császári palota építéstörténetéhez—Addenda to the history of an imperial Palace built at Savaria”, ArchErt 102 (1975) 301f; E. Tóth, “A savariai insularéndszer rekonstrukciója—Rekonstruktion des Insula-Systems in Savaria”, ArchErt 98 (1971) 143f. Overall, we must admit that we do not know when exactly the road was first encroached. One might think here that the installation of the adjacent city wall also probably significantly altered the traffic system, from the Antonine period onwards. For these reasons, the first encroachment of the street should remain as undated, as its potential date stretches across two different periods (Early Imperial and Late Antiquity).

Dating summary: Undated. 10MAC Philippi (Octagon) (2): The first phase of the Octagon encroached a little with its apse on a minor street to its east and closed a street to the west with its atrium. The previous church on this site originally respected the street frontage. The first Octagon phase dates to between 421 (earliest date for a coin recovered under its floor, although I have 408 from another source) and 536, as the subsequent second Octagon phase seems to imitate the Justinianic churches of SS. Sergius and Bacchus (complete in 536) and also Hagia Sophia (complete in AD 537) in some of its particularities (it too now has ‘semidomes’ and an elongated apse). It is very unlikely that the first Octagon would have been built in this style after the completion of SS. Sergius and Bacchus, so consequently 536 can serve as a TAQ for the first phase (see appendix E1 for details). Dating summary (first phase of Octagon): range 408– 537, midpoint 472.5, class Cs7 (TPQ coin), Cs1 (architectural style), publication 3/3. 10MAC Philippi (Basilica B, first church): This church is built over two minor streets, as well as a gymnasium and a macellum. For the Justinianic Basilica B see P. Lemerle, Philippes et la Macédoine orientale à l’époque chrétienne et byzantine (Paris 1945) 281–486, esp. 422 fig. 32, with M. Sève, “L’oeuvre de l’Ecole française d’Athènes à Philippes pendant la décennie 1987–1998”, Αρχαιολογικό Έργο στη Μακεδονία και στη Θράκη 10b (1996) (705–15) 707. Of phasing and dating, Basilica B, in its final form, is often dated to ‘ca. 540’. This church is dated stylistically, based on its close resemblance to the church of Hagia Sophia and SS. Sergius and Bacchus, and parallel bands of brickwork and stone (opus mixtum), characteristic of Justinian’s reign (AD 527–65), in particular based on its close resemblance to the church of Hagia Sophia in several details (e.g. cross-dome joined to a basilica; deeply undercut motifs, especially acanthus leaves): C. KoukouliChrysanthaki and C. Bakirtzis, Philippi (Athens 1995) 43; see also P. Lemerle, Philippes et la Macédoine orientale à l’époque chrétienne et byzantine: recherches d’histoire et d’archéologie (Paris 1945) vol. 1 497ff. I prefer a broader date of 25 years after the completion of the major inspirational monument, for a derivative structure like Basilica B, so suggest a date range of up to 537–62. However, N. Karydis has detected an earlier basilica, underneath the present church, which is almost identical to Basilica A in Philippi: based on pending paper by N. Karydis on Philippi, which I heard at Canterbury, November 2014. The latter church is dated by me to 450–527, on the grounds of being a basilical plan with transept, comparable to two dated large mid- and later 5th c. basilicas in Greece, having no Justinianic features, and having impost capitals carrying arcades, being situated above a site formerly occupied

APPENDIX 1: A4c Major Streets Encroached (within Continuing Cities) by temples prior to the church being constructed: see appendix E2. Overall, these dates for the basilica under basilica B must remain tentative in the absence of firm epigraphic or stratigraphic indicators. Although transept basilicas do suggest the 5th c., they are known in imperial commissions from the time of Constantine. Thus, the TPQ for the encroachment of streets by the first basilica has to be the Edict of Milan of 313, and the TAQ has to be 562, the upper limit of the date range for the second basilica. Nonetheless, 450–527 is a reasonable guess. Dating summary: range 313–562, midpoint 437.5, class x (historical text), Cs1 (architectural style), publication 1/3. Long date. 13ASI Hierapolis: The late antique cathedral apparently merges two insulae of the city in its construction: G. Scardozzi, “Richerche topografiche e telerilevamento”, in Hierapolis di Frigia I: Le attività delle campagne di scavo e restauro, edd. F. D’Andria and M.P. Caggia (Istanbul 2007) (67–86) 83 with n. 33. The date of this structure does not seem to have been established so far by archaeological means, judging from the description of P. Arthur, Byzantine and Turkish Hierapolis (Pamukkale) (Istanbul 2006) 138–44, who does not discuss the street’s setting and gives dates ranging from the 5th c. to the 6th c. The 5th c. range is probably based on the polygonal apse, which is apparently first seen in St. John Studios in Constantinople, a church that was built by a consul in AD 462 (PLRE 2.1037 Studius 2) according to Theophanes AM 5955 (AD 462/63 date in edn. Mango and Scott (1997)) and other authors, or perhaps just before his consulship of 454, as suggested by verses once inscribed on the building (Anth. Graec. 1.4, as discussed by C. Mango, “The date of the Studius Basilica at Istanbul”, Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies 4 (1978) 115–22 (not seen)). These verses give the Studios Basilica a date of ca. 450 for Mango. The 6th c. range seems to be based on the award of ecclesiastical metropolitan status to Hierapolis in Phrygia in 535. A slightly narrower dating for the church is given in another description of the building (as being second half of the 5th to first half of the 6th c.). Here, a qualification is made that the structure might have begun in the 5th c., and been completed in the 6th c. This alternative phasing is based on the varied stratigraphy found associated with the pavement, and the different treatment of the upper storey capitals, in comparison to the lower storey. Stylistic arguments are also presented that I do not use here: G. Ciotta and L.P. Quaglino, “La cattedrale di Hierapolis”, Saggi in onore di Paolo Verzone, ed. D. De Bernardi Ferrero (Hierapolis Scavi e Ricerche 4) (Rome 2002) (179–202) 192–94, with references to earlier reports. The rejection of a later Justinianic date is implied, if not explained. It is perhaps suggested because the church is of a basilical design

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rather than of a more adventurous form associated with Justinian’s reign, which one might expect in a church of this status. I reluctantly accept this last criterion as providing a TAQ of 546 (the midpoint of Justinian’s reign) with a TPQ of 450 based on comparisons to the Studios Basilica. Dating summary: range 450–546, midpoint 498, class Cs1 (architectural style), publication 1/3.

A4c Major Streets Encroached (within Continuing Cities)

07AFR Carthage (Cardo Maximus, at the Byrsa): The street was encroached by walls at the French site on the Byrsa Hill: J. Deneuve and F. Villedieu, “Le Cardo Maximus et les edifices situés à l’est de la voie”, AntAfr 11 (1974) 95–130; J. Deneuve and F. Villedieu, “Le Cardo Maximus et les edifices situés à l’est de la voie”, in Byrsa I: rapports préliminaires des fouilles (1974–1976), edd. J.-M. Carrié et al. (CEFR 41) (Rome 1979) (143–76) 151. This encroachment is believed to have happened in the 6th c., according to the excavators. This is an assumption, as the encroachment on the roadway is believed to come after the privatisation of the portico in the 4th or 5th c.; the sandstone blocking wall of the latter produced a fragment of ‘sigillée claire D’: see appendix A5d. The walls of the buildings on the street were less carefully built than those blocking the portico, being in unformed rubble blocks and reused material, connected with a brown mortar, an observation that probably informs the idea that they are later, alongside the fact that one would not need to build on the roadway before the portico had been occupied. ARS D appeared in the 4th c. until the 7th c. according to DCAMNO. However, the dating provided by one sherd can only be regarded as providing a TPQ of 300. A reasonable TAQ is the capture of Carthage in 698, which seems to have resulted in the end of occupation over most of the city. This encroachment is site no. 10 in H. Broise, “L’Évolution des insulae des maisons du cryptoportique et de la rotonde dans le contexte urbain”, in Carthage, colline de l’Odéon. Maisons de la rotonde et du cryptoportique (Recherches 1987–2000), vol. 2, edd. C. Balmelle, A. Bourgeois, H. Broise, J.-P. Darmon, and M. Ennaïfer (CEFR 457) (Rome 2012) (333–59) 345 fig. 384 no. 10, with p. 349. Dating summary: range 300–698, midpoint 499, class Cs7 (TPQ ceramic), publication 2/3 (as the pottery referred to has been classified in much more detail). Generic late antique date. 07AFR Carthage (Decumanus Maximus, west side of Byrsa Hill, so leaving the Forum): The street was reduced in width to 3.95 m ‘at a late period’. To the south a structure (identified as a cistern by the excavator) was built on the paving of the roadway, extending out to the centre of the street: L. Ladjimi-Sebaï, “Le decumanus maximus de Carthage”, CEDAC 15 (1996) (32–34) 32–33. This encroachment is site

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APPENDIX 1: A5a Shambolic Encroachment / Ruralisation

no. 11 in H. Broise, “L’Évolution des insulae des maisons du cryptoportique et de la rotonde dans le contexte urbain”, in Carthage, colline de l’Odéon. Maisons de la rotonde et du cryptoportique (Recherches 1987–2000), vol. 2, edd. C. Balmelle, A. Bourgeois, H. Broise, J.-P. Darmon, and M. Ennaïfer (CEFR 457) (Rome 2012) (333–59) 345 fig. 384 no. 10, with p. 349. Dating summary: Undated. 10MAC Philippi (via Egnatia): Simple buildings were built on the ‘paved roadway’ north of the Octagon complex and date from the 7th c., according to K.M. HattersleySmith, Byzantine Public Architecture between the Fourth and Early Eleventh Centuries AD, with Special Reference to the Towns of Byzantine Macedonia (Thessaloniki 1996) 77, referring to S. Pelekanidès, “Ανασκαφή Φιλίππων”, Πρακτικά (1971) (72–85) 83–85. The only structures on the plan, published a few years later, are a strip of rooms on the south side of the via Egnatia, at the north-east end of the excavated area around the Octagon, which appear to be in two phases, from the way the walls are drawn: S. Pelekanidès, “Ανασκαφή Φιλίππων”, Πρακτικά (1973) (55–69) plan after 57. No other buildings on the roadway are shown on the excavation photos of S. Pelekanidès, “Ανασκαφή Φιλίππων”, Πρακτικά (1971) (72–85) pls. 102–103. These structures initially seem to have been built encroaching on a portico, as they did not extend out beyond the line of the adjacent portico. However, I was able to see that there was no portico here before the rooms were built: L. Lavan site observation June 2014. Thus, we have a strip of encroachment that prolongs the alignment of a short portico along a street where there had previously been no southern portico. In other words, it was an encroachment that had no impact on the effective space used for vehicular traffic, as the road had already been narrowed by the portico, to the west. Of phasing, the walls are made of mortared rubble with some tile and little reused material. Some column bases now lying on top of these walls do not seem to be part of them. Of dating for these rooms, there is only the observation of Pelekanidès (1971) that a coin of the time of Justinian I came from next to the south wall of room LXII (the central room of the three). On p. 85 he ascribes the added rooms to the period of the city’s decline and abandonment. Obviously, the lack of a clear context for the coin of room LXII does not permit any firm dating. As Hattersley-Smith (1996) notes, there is a confusion of phases, coins and context in the adjacent ‘episcopal palace’, which seems to be a mixture of various earlier structures. Therefore, I do not wish to base the construction date of the encroachment rooms on this coin. The presence of reused materials gives this building a TPQ of the mid-3rd c., under the rules of this study. In terms of a TAQ, the collapse

of the Roman Balkans ca. 616 did not finish off Philippi as a settlement, but does seem to have coincided with the end of its classical-style urban occupation, as far as we can tell. Dating summary: range 250–616, midpoint 433, class z (regional development), Cs4 (reused material), publication 2/3. Generic late antique date. See also (appendix A2a): 02HIS Valencia (Valentia): A cathedral mausoleum completely blocks the Cardo Maximus in ca. 560; 10MAC Philippi: The second phase of the Octagon narrowed the Commercial Road (a major street), for which the dating is 536–616; 13ASI Ariassos: The main street, by the monumental arch, is narrowed by a basilical church, which can only be given a generic date of 313–614. See also (appendix X2): 10MAC Philippi: The Sigma Plaza reduces the width of the Via Egnatia by 2.7 m to 5.2 m. It is dated generically to within the period 250–616. Discounted: 02HIS Barcelona (Barcino): The cathedral baptistery, close to the line of the Augustan and late antique fortifications, is thought to be late 5th c. However, scholars differ as to whether this was constructed over the line of a road or not, suggesting that the real line of the road is not known. Therefore, I will not be exploring its dating here. See, for example, the plans of J. Beltrán de Heredia, “El urbanismo romano y tardoantiguo de Barcino (Barcelona): una aportación a la topografía de la colonia”, in Civilización. Un viaje a las ciudades de la España antigua (Exhibition Catalogue), ed. Ayuntamiento de Alcalá de Henares (Alcalá de Henares 2006) (87–96) 89 and 94–95.

A5a Shambolic Encroachment / Ruralisation

This is admittedly only a selection, from major cities. More examples should be expected in Gaul. 01BRI Wroxeter (Viroconium Cornoviorum) (Street behind Baths): The east-west street was fenced off on the south side and buildings were constructed on the road, even one in its centre. The buildings are represented by rubble platforms, or surviving patches of street metalling from the previous phase. These developments all occurred in phase Z, the last major phase of occupation. In terms of a TPQ, the date of phase Z has been very finely calculated, using radiocarbon dates and magnetic dates from an oven, coins and pottery. Its preparatory phase (Y) must date after ca. 500–50, a remnant magnetic date taken from an oven in a previous phase X. All of this must further date after a coin first minted in AD 367 from the even earlier phase W. In terms of a TAQ, a radiocarbon date from the phase after Z (post-Z) was Cal AD 600–790 (Birm-1045, 1340+/-60BP), providing a TAQ for phase Z of AD 790 with 95% probability: P. Barker, R. White and M. Corbishley, The Baths Basilica, Wroxeter: Excavations 1966–90 (Swindon 1998) 235, 240–41.

APPENDIX 1: A5a Shambolic Encroachment / Ruralisation Dating summary: range 367–790, midpoint 578.5, class Cs7 (TPQ coin), Cs10 (scientific TAQ), publication 3/3. Exemplary. 01BRI Winchester (Venta Belgarum) (north-south street by Old Minster): A main north-south street was covered by a level of dense black peaty soil and then blocked by a building with a cobble surface and posthole construction: M. Biddle, “Excavations at Winchester, 1962–63: second interim report”, AntJ 44 (1964) (188–219) 206; M. Biddle, “Excavations at Winchester 1965: fourth interim report”, AntJ 46 (1966) (308–32) 320; M. Biddle, “Excavations at Winchester, 1967: sixth interim report”, AntJ 48 (1968) (250– 84) 270; M. Biddle, “Excavations at Winchester, 1969: eighth interim report”, AntJ 50.2 (1970) (277–326) 317–21. Of phasing and dating, the ‘blocking building’ was associated with Late Roman pottery and one sherd of “handmade, very coarsely-gritted but well-fired fabric, which is certainly of sub-Roman or post-Roman date”: Biddle (1964) 206. The postholes for the timber buildings on the street must have been inserted, alongside pits, sometime after AD 400 (as they seem from finds and character to be post-Roman, which means after 400 in Britain, the time of large-scale urban change), but before the church of ‘ca. 650’: Biddle (1968) 270. The final interim report admits no archaeological dating evidence for the first minster church, only a historical date for the construction of a church by Kenwalh ca. 648: Biddle (1970) 317–21. This event is recorded in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle for the year 643 (which I will not delve into here). Dating summary for Minster site: range 400–648, midpoint 524, class z (regional development), x (historical text), publication 3/3. 01BRI Winchester (Venta Belgarum) (east-west street, Cathedral Car Park): An east-west street was cut by a pit and also overlain with cobbling associated with Late Roman pottery. This can be taken as providing associative dating for the postholes, as it is part of the same phase of Late Roman disruption of street space. I take “Late Roman” to mean 4th c. in Britain. Postholes have been noted cut into Roman streets at two other locations: M. Biddle, “Excavations at Winchester, 1962–63: second interim report”, AntJ 44 (1964) (188–219) 206. Dating summary (Cathedral Car Park): range 300–400, midpoint 350, class Cs3 (associative, ceramics), publication 2/3. 01BRI Canterbury (Durovernum Cantiacorum) (St. George’s Street): At a street junction near the Roman Baths, a timber-framed house (7.6 m by 3.7 m in size) was erected on a minor street, blocking it almost entirely, probably in the first half of the 5th c., although the only secure dating is a 3rd c. radiate coin from inside the first of two floor surfaces, and a coin of Arcadius (395–408) found in one of

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the timber slots: S.S. Frere and P. Stow, The Archaeology of Canterbury 7: Excavations in St. George’s Street and Burgate Street Areas (Maidstone 1983) 73. The excavators did not believe the house to be Anglo-Saxon in date, perhaps based on parallels to dated buildings of this period, although their reasoning is not specified. In the context of sub-Roman urban development in Britain and the establishment of Anglo-Saxon rule, a date after 450 is unlikely for an urban structure of this scale, although this is not a strong argument. Of the coin evidence, I prefer to use only the coin of Arcadius, as a TPQ. There is a large chronological gap with the 3rd c. coin, suggesting that the coins were deposited by two different processes, with the 3rd c. coin probably being residual. Thus, it is better not to use the two coins as providing the basis of a contextual date. Dating summary: range 395–450, mid-point 422.5, class Cs7 (TPQ coin), z (regional development), publication 3/3. 01BRI Canterbury (Durovernum Cantiacorum): A street by the Roman theatre was blocked by a long wooden building (structure R25A). This was established after the whole area had been covered in flood silt: K. Blockley, M. Blockley, P. Blockley, S. Frere and S. Stow, Excavations in the Marlowe Car Park and Surrounding Area (The Archaeology of Canterbury vol. 5) (Canterbury 1995) 204–206. Of dimensions, the building (R25A) extended over a length of at least 18–20 m. Its width is unknown, but it must be wider than ca. 2.05 m, which is the size of the surviving fragment, hand-measuring off p. 205 fig. 103. Of the first phase, a series of shallow flint wall foundations ran across the width of the building. These could have supported timber beams, which acted as the base of dividing walls creating cellular divisions. These divisions were separated by distances of 4 m, 4 m and 5 m, running northwest to south-east. The rooms perhaps served as shops. One further isolated transversal wall was located over 16 m away from the main part of the structure. This may have been part of the same building. The floor of a building was of wooden planks, the form of which has only been partially recovered: they were observed as impressions set into the flood silt. The planks extended over 18 m to 20 m. The isolated transversal wall was associated with an opus signinum floor and two more beam slots. In area MII (but not in the area MIII part of the excavation, perhaps with poorer survival) the wider building was given a secondary floor of opus signinum with tile and pebbles to replace the planked floor. Of the second phase, timber slots were cut through the opus signinum floor in area MII, replacing features from the previous structure, thus revealing that the structure was rebuilt (as R25B). It was refaced with a skin of opus signinum in a secondary development, after the whole area was resurfaced, obliterating the distinction between the

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adjacent palaestra and the street. This building is the final Roman structure on the site before the black loam of the post-Roman abandonment period of the city. Of dating, for phase 1, we can point to a coin of Theodosius I (issued 388–402) from the silt sealing the street, on top of which R25A was constructed. However, elsewhere the coins in the flood silt were earlier (with the latest start date being from an issue from the House of Constantine dated to 350–60; see p. 203), so the excavators think this is an intrusion, coming from the use of R25A, falling through its plank floor, and would like to place the flood in 360–70 [too late for me as the flood could come at the start date of the coin, I would have 350–75 as a contextual coin date]. Of dating, for phase 2 the excavators would like to date the construction of the second building to the late 4th / early 5th c. Certainly, the coin of 388–402, which likely fell through the plank floor of R25A in period phase 1, does provide a TPQ for R25B with its opus signinum floor, which seals previous deposits. Under the rules of this study, I take the regional end of investment in civic public building in Britain as being 400. This building is not, however, a public structure. Thus, its dating is a little more open. It is nonetheless Roman in technological character (opus signinum floor) so I would not wish to go beyond 425 in terms of date (one generation after 400), although this is a weak criterion. We can give a contextual coin date of the construction of the first building of 350 + 25 years, under the rules of this study. The dates of repairs to each structure cannot be distinguished in chronological terms from their construction dates. Dating summary (first encroaching building and its subsequent reflooring in opus signinum): range 350–75, midpoint 362.5, class Cs8 (contextual coins), publication 3/3. Dating summary (second encroaching building and its subsequent skin of opus signinum): range 388–425, midpoint 406.5, class Cs7 (TPQ coin), z (regional development), publication 3/3. 06ITS Grumentum (Decumanus): A late wall of large rubble blocks, possibly up-ended street paving blocks, cuts diagonally across the road, without mortar or apparent mixing with other types of material, as it if represents a wall put there by a shepherd or an early excavator; N.B. the road seems to stop immediately after this, as if it had been quarried away here and the blocks were placed here on the road deliberately, after being lifted out of their road bedding: L. Lavan site observation April 2016. Dating summary: Undated. 07AFR Sufetula: A building with olive presses which blocked a main road seems to be structurally connected to a church installed, like other late buildings, at a higher floor level than 4th c. structures. The church (Basilica 5), which incorporates much reused material, is dedicated to Saints

Gervasius, Prostasius (both of Milan) and Tryphon (an eastern saint), as the reliquary inscription under the altar shows. The presence of the cult of the latter saints makes a date after the Byzantine conquest (534) for the whole complex possible, although it is difficult to be as precise as to suggest the 7th c., as Duval and Baratte do. The cult of an eastern saint with relics is unlikely to have taken root after the final defeat of Roman imperial power by the Islamic army in 647 at Sufetula. They are unsure whether the masonry join between the olive presses and the church indicates either contemporaneity or that the oil presses are earlier than the church. The door / window of the church is very oddly placed, giving direct access to the oil factory, which suggests to me that the installation in its present form is later, and that a new survey is needed. A second phase detected within the church might also have extended to these walls. We can, at least, say that the Arch of Diocletian on this same street indicates that the street was open at the start of Late Antiquity: N. Duval and F. Baratte, Ruines de Sufetula—Sbeitla (Tunis 1973) 99–101; N. Duval, “L’urbanisme de Sufetula—Sbeitla en Tunisie”, ANRW 10.2 (1982) 620. Dating summary: range 534–649, mid-point 591.5, class Cs6 (inscription in situ), x (historical), publication 3/3. 09DAC Justiniana Prima: (Upper City, north-south colonnaded street): In the upper town (not acropolis) the western portico of the southern north-south colonnaded street was subdivided and buildings were constructed onto the street. Also the space between the first phase building and the fortification walls was blocked: Bavant (2007) 370. A level relating to the occupation of the western portico of this street, before its intercolumniations were blocked, has produced a demi-follis of the extreme end of the reign of Justinian (of AD 565), giving a tentative TPQ: V. Ivanišević, “Les monnaies”, in Caričin Grad II, edd. B. Bavant, V. Kondić and J.M. Spieser (Rome-Belgrade 1990) (259–67) 263 no. 13, plus B. Bavant, V. Kondić and J.M. Spieser, “La Fouille: Stratigraphie et constructions”, in Caričin Grad II, edd. B. Bavant, V. Kondić and J.M. Spieser (Rome-Belgrade 1990) (13–85) 23. Similar changes in built architecture are reported elsewhere in the city: V. Kondić and V. Popović (1977) 373. This phase of construction in the city was apparently of poorly built stone walls bound only by clay: V. Ivanišević pers. comm. 2017. Bavant (2007) 370 notes that their use of basic material and their layout (first floor occupation) make some of the late houses of the south-west quarter similar to village houses in the area. Each had a yard. Of dating, this site is identified with the city founded near Justinian’s birthplace of Tauresium by 11 Nov. in AD 535 (with Procop. Aed. 4.1.19). It has produced no evidence for occupation before ca. AD 530 and no evidence after AD 615, the date of decisive Slav invasions, according to recent researchers: B. Bavant, “Caričin Grad and the

APPENDIX 1: A5b Street Obliteration, within Continuing Settlements, Selected Dated Examples changes in the nature of urbanism in the central Balkans in the 6th century”, in The Transition to Late Antiquity on the Danube and Beyond, ed. A. Poulter (Proceedings of the British Academy 141) (Oxford 2007) (337–74) 337–38, with V. Kondić and V. Popović, Caričin Grad: Utvrđeno naselje u vizantijskom Iliriku (Belgrade 1977) 373, describing a hoard not earlier than AD 613 (see also appendix C2 for further coins and seal evidence from the acropolis, with coins of Anastasius and Justin I, which were likely lost after 530). The latest coin from the site is a hexagram of Heraclius dated from 615 to 625: V. Popović, “Decorative parts of the costume and the silver jewellery during the Great invasions”, in Antique Silver from Serbia, ed. I. Popović (Belgrade 1994) 135 and 354, no. 330, with thanks to V. Ivanišević for the latter reference. The later modifications of the initial street plan are presumed to date from the late 6th and early 7th c., after Justinian’s reign ended, leaving less reason for monumental investment in the city. Dating summary: range 565–615, midpoint 590, class Cs7 (TPQ coin), z (site development), publication 2/3. 10MAC Messene (East Street): The East Street is extensively encroached, with the width reduced to around 3 m: P.G. Themelis, Ancient Messene (Athens 2003) 96–97 with fig. 88 for the plan; N. Tsivikis, “Considerations on some bronze buckles from Byzantine Messene”, in Byzantine Small Finds in Archaeological Contexts, edd. B. BöhlendorfArslan and A. Ricci (BYZAS 15) (Istanbul 2012) (61–80) 62. This seems to be part of a wider development, following extensive damage to the city in the later 4th c., after which it became a village. Destruction deposits dating to AD 360–70 have been excavated in several places (N. Tsivikis, pers. comm.), but are mainly from the urban villa just east of the Asclepieion and from the street, hence dating its encroachment: G. Deligiannakis, “Two lateantique statues from ancient Messene”, BSA 100 (2005) (387–406) 392 (with references to primary reports, which it summarises). Deligiannakis notes that the latest coins from the destroyed building are of Constans I (346–50) and Constantius II (341–61) as Augusti, which gives a weak contextual date for the destruction of the 25 years or so after 346. The Doric stoa, close to the temple of Messene, also has a destruction level of tiles from the roof covering the floor of the rooms, with strong traces of fire in some places. Apparently this occurred before the 3rd quarter of the 4th c AD (based on ceramic and numismatic evidence): C. Morgan, “Messene 2007”, http://chronique.efa.gr/index .php/fiches/voir/321/ (last accessed June 2016), with references to reports. In the Messenian literature, such destruction is attributed to an earthquake of 375 [Guidoboni Catalogo no. 142]. On the street itself, coins coming from the stratigraphy inside the encroaching buildings on the roadway extend

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from the 4th to the 6th c., from 4 of Theodosius I (AD 379– 95) to 3 of Justinian (AD 533–37, 539–40, 527–65), with no predominant spike in coin type between, suggesting gradual coin loss: P.G. Themelès, “Ανασκαφή Μεσσήνης”, Πρακτικά (1995) (55–86) 63–64. What is of interest to me is the date of the beginning of the occupation of the street, not how long it lasted. The earliest phases of occupation are probably best dated by association with the adjacent destruction deposits of the urban villa. However, the first spike of 4 coins of Theodosius suggest they are a contextual indicator for the road itself, suggesting that the road encroachment really did establish itself well prior to the end of his reign. Dating summary (for beginning of occupation of East Street): range 346–95, midpoint 370.5, class Cs8 (contextual coins), publication 3/3.

A5b Street Obliteration, within Continuing Settlements, Selected Dated Examples

01BRI Leicester (Red Cross Street, now part of Peacock Lane): A major north-south road had pits and gullies dug through the surface in its final ancient phase: J.S. Wacher, The Towns of Roman Britain (London, 2nd edn. 1995) 362 (the gullies are described as “channels”). The pertinent excavation of Red Cross Street was published in P. Clay and R. Pollard, Iron Age and Roman Occupation in the West Bridge Area of Leicester; Excavations 1962–71 (Leicester 1994) 24–36 (Site 5). Phase 5 is the relevant period on pp. 35–36, with p. 33 fig. 33 (area 2). Dating evidence is confined to unspecified 3rd to 4th c. pottery recovered from a gully of period 5a (context F10) and from a gully in period 5b (context F5). This pottery is not clarified or mentioned on p. 96, where one might expect this, as here there is a contextually-organised identification of the ceramics. I am obliged to use the full date range for the ceramics as individual wares are not specified. Dating summary: range 200–400, midpoint 300, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 2/3. 01BRI Leicester (Highcross Shopping Centre): Excavations revealed a series of hearths that encroached onto the east side of Highcross Street “in the late 4th–5th c.” (N.J. Cooper pers. comm.). A summary is given in B.C. Burnham et al. “Roman Britain in 2007”, Britannia 39 (2008) (263–390) 295 figs. 16 and 17. The dating depends upon the hearths being covered by the build-up of a layer of earth and gravel that contained later 4th c. coins and Early-Middle Saxon pottery. Whilst the late 4th–5th c. date is not certain for the hearths, it likely relies upon the hearths representing the last Roman period occupation on the site, prior to urban collapse in 5th c. Britain. The layer covering the hearths seems to be given the same date as them, as if the decision to create the hearths implied a breakdown in urban order associated with the end of street cleaning. Further

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publication will resolve whether the two processes were in fact contemporary. Dating summary: range late 4th–5th c. (converted by me to 387.5–500), midpoint 443.75, class z (regional development), Cs3 (associative, phase of development), Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs8 (contextual coins), publication 2/3. 01BRI Chichester (County Hall): The main drains of the Roman streets eventually collapsed and silted up, and the streets became affected by potholing and covered in mud, with roofs falling on them: J.S. Wacher, The Towns of Roman Britain (London, 2nd edn. 1995) 271, citing S.C. Hawkes and G.C. Dunning, “Soldiers and settlers in Britain, fourth to fifth century, with a catalogue of animal ornamented buckles and related belt fittings”, Medieval Archaeology 5 (1961) (1–70) 43, catalogue no. 3, noting that type 1A was found during excavations at County Hall in 1960, in a deposit at the top of a drain beside the Roman street, so indicating its disuse “in the latest Roman level dated late 4th or early 5th century”. I have not been able to locate the primary reports for these excavations. Until I can locate them, the best solution is probably to suggest that the late 4th or early 5th c. (387.5–412.5) phase dating depends on it being the last phase on the site, reflecting the urban collapse of 5th c. Britain. Dating summary: range late 4th or early 5th c. (387.5– 412.5), midpoint 400, class z (regional development), class Cs3 (associative, phase of development), publication 1/3 (though I have not accessed the final report). 03GAL Rheims (rue du Générale Sarrail): A secondary road, 50 m inside the north-west fortification, was abandoned and cut by numerous ditches (as were the surrounding buildings). This occurred sometime around the middle of the 4th c. No details of dating are given: R. Neiss, “Reims Champagne-Ardenne”, Gallia informations CD 1998–1999 (1998) PDF document 51454Zo.PDF available at http:// www.revues-gallia.cnrs.fr/IMG/zip/GI98.zip (last accessed December 2014). Dating summary: ca. 350, class 0, publication 1/3. 02HIS Iesso (Guissona) (street by city wall): A wine production facility was established in the street by the city wall: N. Romani i Sala, Carrers i serveis viaris a les ciutats romanes del conventus tarraconensis (s. ii ac-vi dc): evolució i tècniques constructives (Tarragona 2012), http://www .tdx.cat/handle/10803/96884 (last accessed July 2014) 140, under ‘Tram de Carrer 3’. For dating, see the report of A. Uscatescu, “La ciutat de Iesso (Guissona, Lleida) durant l’Antiguitat Tardana: les novetats de la campanya d’excavacions de 1999”, in Iesso 1, Miscellània Arqueològica, edd. J. Guitart and J. Pera (Barcelona 2004) 11–142. The report notes that this wine production installation was built after a period of abandonment of the district (pp. 16–17), and that a construction layer of the treading floor of the complex contained the following ARS of late 4th to mid

5th c. date, including amongst the later ceramics (pp. 29– 34): a bowl of Hayes 80B (given as 5th c. or sometimes the early 6th c.) [440–500 LRP]; Hayes 93B–Waagé 859 or 862 (given by the report as first half of the 5th c. or mid 5th c.) [450–540 Tortorella 1987 contra LRP and Hayes 1977; Bon says nothing]; amphoras Keay 35A (given as first half of the 5th c. to ca. AD 580) [400–500 Bon] and LRA 5 [LR 5 is 0–750 RADR], which was imported into the region from around the middle of the 5th c.; ceràmica pintada [not checked], which is known in the region from the mid 5th c. [with the last two types thus being the latest ceramics]. This evidence suggests to the excavators a date for the construction layer in the third quarter of the 5th c., as implied on p. 16, which is consistent with the dating rules used in this study. This is a very sophisticated ceramics report with fine-grained dating potential, of which the latest ceramic is 80B, according to LRP [given uncertainty over 93B], which I prefer to follow, to give me, under the rules of this study a contextual date for the construction layer of the treading floor of 440–65. Dating summary: range 440–65, midpoint 452.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3. Exemplary. 02HIS Iluro (Mataró) (Cardo Maximus, Carrer Pujol 47): This street (not the ‘decumanus’ as in Romani i Sala, below) sees a period of ruin in which the remains of buildings obliterate the road, in the 2nd half of the 5th c. It is followed by great pits which cut across the area in the 5th to 6th c. AD: N. Romani i Sala, Carrers i serveis viaris a les ciutats romanes del conventus tarraconensis (s. ii ac-vi dc): evolució i tècniques constructives (Tarragona 2012), http://www.tdx. cat/handle/10803/96884 (last accessed July 2014) 312. She refers to the following reports: M. Bosch de Doria, Memòria cientifica. Intervenció arqueolòlogica al solar situar al carrer de Sant Cristòfor núm. 12 de Mataró (El Maresme). Cuitat romana d’Iluro. Campanyes dels anys 1998–1999–2000 (no place 2002), available at http://calaix.gencat.cat/bitstream/ handle/10687/24452/qmem3566_web.pdf ?sequence=6 (last accessed February 2015); J. Font, Excavació arqueològica al jaciment de la ciutat romana d’Iluro: solar situate al carrer d’en Pujol, 47 de Mataró (El Maresme). 25 d’abril–10 juiol de 2000. Memòria científica (no place 2003), available at http://calaix.gencat.cat/handle/10687/8587 (last accessed February 2015). Of dating, the two reports offer a different picture: (i) The first report of Bosch de Doria (2002) 28 provides a record of disturbed earth, deposited after pitting, which contained ARS fragments of the beginning of the 6th c. [Hayes 91c and 63 are cited, of which Hayes 91c is ca. 530–600+ LRP, although Hayes 63 checks out as 375–400 LRP in the same books], alongside African and eastern amphorae of this period. (ii) The second report of Font (2015) 25–26, with plan 11 (the section), seems to offer more reliable stratigraphy,

APPENDIX 1: A5c Portico Encroachment, Unstructured as follows. Firstly, there is a collapse of the buildings, believed to have occurred in the mid 5th c., which is associated with ARS D Hayes 69 [ca. 425–450 LRP], Hayes 57 [ca. 325–400 (?) LRP] and amphoras Keay 25 [300–450 RADR + Bon], Keay 16b–c [Keay 16 is 187.5–450 ICAC], Kellia 169 [http://badwila.net/amphorae/laterom_1/ index.html says = LR1, which is 350–650 on RADR] and a bowl of DSP Rigoir 16 [370–500 in DCAMNO], with nothing later than the mid 5th c., according to the report. Secondly, a pit (UE 103) with a filling (UE 102) contained a sherd of DSP f. Rigoir 15 [same date as Rigoir 16], although the pits cut the aforementioned layers. Thirdly, further pitting followed in the next phase, associated with finds suggesting an early 6th c. date. Overall, the key layer for the ruin of the road is the collapse layer, the pottery of which has given a contextual date of 425–50 based on the start date of the last find, Hayes 69. This gives us a slightly earlier date than that championed by the report. Dating summary: range 425–50, midpoint 437.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3. 06ITS Herdonia: New buildings were established over the forum, consisting of well-constructed apsidal structures in brick-faced concrete [looking like opus vittatum mixtum to me, of tile and stone courses]. They were aligned in completely different directions to the buildings and streets of the classical city. None of these structures has produced traces of a floor or indications of a roof. The buildings were established at a higher level (+1 m in some areas) to the previous ancient occupation. Related structures, in the same phase, obliterated earlier street arrangements, especially on roads on the north-east side of the forum, although I did not yet find direct reports on the streets. One ‘chapel’ was built at 0.5 m higher than Late Roman constructions, on top of 4th c. rubbish layers lying in the civil basilica, as discussed in appendix V1. This layer contains, as its latest identifiable coin, a coin of Theodosius I, which can provide a TPQ of the start date of his reign of 379 for the obliteration of the streets. Other developments on site permit a TAQ of AD 500 to be offered for the chapels as more substantial masonry buildings, via a site development argument: see appendix V1. Dating summary: range 379–500, midpoint 439.5, z (site development), Cs7 (TPQ coin), publication 3/3. See also (appendix A8a): 08PAN Celeia (street coming in from Poetovio): The street was encroached by houses in the period 250–500, with the road paving being removed and used for the foundations in some cases. See also (appendix J3): 07AFR Carthage (Decumanus 1N, by junction with Cardo 17E, Magon quarter) (2 instances): Rooms were built over the street and a fire pit / oven was created within the period 650–98.

A5c Portico Encroachment, Unstructured

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02HIS Complutum (Alcalá de Henares) (Decumanus 3): The encroachment of porticoes to provide extra space for adjacent houses is seen in the city, as on the Decumanus 3 at Manzana (Insula) 7, where two houses (casa de Marte and casa del Atrio), extend out onto the portico using stone and mud walls, which seems to reflect private rather than public building styles. The development occurs around AD 300: S. Rascón Marqués and A.L. Sánchez Montes, pers. comm. (Complutum archaeological excavation directors). This chronology likely depends upon ceramics, given what is published elsewhere on this site, but the dating must remain ‘pending’ until published. Dating summary: ca. 300, class 0, publication 0. Pending. 02HIS Barcelona (Barcino): A portico of a cardo (Tram de Carrer 3) is encroached by a single room (8 m2) of a garum factory, occupied from the 3rd c. onwards, which contained a dolium connected to the manufacturing process: J. Beltrán de Heredia Bercero, “Una factoria de garum i salaó de peix a Barcino”, in De Barcino a Barcinona (segles I–VII). Les restes arqueològiques de la plaça del Rei de Barcelona, ed. J. Beltrán de Heredia (Barcelona 2001) 60– 63; J. Beltrán de Heredia Bercero, “La cetaria de Barcino. Una factoría de salazón del siglo III d.C. en el yacimiento de la Plaza del Rey de Barcelona”, in El Mediterráneo: la cultura del mar y la sal. III Congreso internacional de estudios históricos. Ayuntamiento de Santa Pola (Octubre de 2004), edd. K. Molina and M.J. Sánchez (Santa Pola 2005) 191–97. The full report for the recent excavations is likely contained in J. Beltrán de Heredia and E. Revilla, Memòria de la intervenció arqueològica al subsòl del Museu d’Historia de la Ciutat (Casa padellàs-Plaça del Rei) 1997– 1998. [Memòria d’Intervenció Arqueològica held at the Direcció General del Patrimoni Cultural, Generalitat de Catalunya] (Barcelona 2001) (not seen). For full bibliography see N. Romani i Sala, Carrers i serveis viaris a les ciutats romanes del conventus tarraconensis (s. ii ac-vi dc): evolució i tècniques constructives (Tarragona 2012), http://www.tdx. cat/handle/10803/96884 (last accessed July 2014) 548. The structure was originally excavated in 1930–31, without much stratigraphic attention to dating. However, recent excavations have produced finds from inside the structural fabric of the garum factory (“integrados en las obras de fábrica de las estructuras”) of 3rd c. date. These finds include Tripolitanian amphora III [150–400 Bon] and two coins (an Antoninianus of AD 255–76 and a coin of Salonina, wife of Gallienus, of AD 260–68). These coins, together with the ceramics, provide a rough contextual date for the construction of the encroaching room, which puts it just on the edge of the late antique period. The whole area was later covered by a late antique church. The last material in the destruction layers under the church extends

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into the first half of the 5th c., such as Hayes 80B [440– 500 LRP] and Hayes 73A [Hayes 73 is 420–75 according to E. Vaccaro pers. comm.] of ARS and TSLamp Lamboglia 1/3 [not checked], alongside coins of AE3 (AD 348–61) and AE4 (AD 388–408): Beltrán de Heredia Bercero (2005) 194–95 with 197 nn. 16–17 and Beltrán de Heredia Bercero (2001) 60–63. However, here we are concerned with the establishment, rather than disuse, of the portico room. Dating summary (encroachment of portico by room): range 260–85, mid-point 272.5, class Cs8 (contextual coins), Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3. Exemplary. 02HIS Emerita (Mérida) (nº 15 de la calle Louis Braille, intramural, centre of city): At an intersection of a cardo and decumanus, a street portico was used as a house in Late Antiquity (with a simple hearth in the dirt floor). No dating evidence is specified: M. Heras Rodríguez 2007, “Nuevos datos sobre la red viaria de Augusta Emerita. Intervención arqueológica en el solar de la calle Louis Braille, nº 15 (Mérida)”, Mérida, Excavaciones Arqueológicas 10 (2004) (171–84) 182, with the “int10.pdf” of the CD, which does not reveal pertinent finds. I am grateful to D. Osland for alerting me to this reference. The background post-Roman archaeology of Merida is sufficiently complex, running across the Visigothic and early Islamic periods, to make meaningful dating impossible without finds. Dating summary: Undated. 02HIS Emerita (Mérida) (nº 5 de la calle Adriano, intramural, just inside the walls of the west side of the city): The “margo” (possibly a sidewalk, but more likely a portico, judging from the plans and text) saw the insertion of two metal workshops at the beginning of the 5th c. Of dating, the lower fill (UE 192) of a foundation trench of one of the walls in the portico (blocking an intercolumniation) produced a ‘gloria exercitus’ coin of Constantine I (AD 337–40) or Constans (AD 340–50 in Hispania), alongside undetermined late antique cooking ware. From the upper fill (UE 195) of this foundation trench there was: Hispánica 5 [not checked], Sigillata Hispánica tardía of 5th c. date [the critical piece for contextual dating, as it has the latest start date]; Drag. 37B tardía [not checked], Sigillata Hispánica tardía of the late 4th to mid 5th c [not checked]; and Hayes 59A [ca. 320–380/400 LRP], Sigillata Africana D of the 4th to beginning of the 5th c. [so 300–412.5 for me]: R. Ayerbe Vélez, “Evolución y transformación de un cardo minor y su margo desde época romana hasta nuestros días. Intervención arqueológica realizada en el solar nº 5 de la calle Adriano (Mérida)”, Mérida, Excavaciones Arqueológicas 10 (2004) (185–208) 206, with “int11.pdf” of the accompanying CD. I am grateful to D. Osland for alerting me to this reference. I take the Sigillata Hispánica tardía of 5th c. date, as the latest find, as providing a contextual date of 25 years after its start date,

so 400–425, for the blocking of the portico. A little later (in a period thought to be ‘Visigothic’), the whole portico is taken over with small dwellings lining the road. Dating summary (for blocking of portico / insertion of metal workshops): range 400–425, midpoint 412.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs8 (contextual coins), publication 3/3. Exemplary. 02HIS Emerita (Mérida) (nº 11 de la calle Almendralejo, intramural, on western side of the city): In the 5th c., the entire portico is taken over by small dwellings, lining the road, connected to drains that incorporate reused material. These features are set at a higher level than the Early Imperial pavement, within street levels of earth. There is no indication in the report of why a 5th c. date is specified, although the presence of reused building material does make it likely that the walls were set in the portico after the mid-3rd c., under the rules of this study: P. Delgado Molina, “Nuevo tramo de la red viaria de Augusta Emerita, excavación de un cardo minor. Intervención arqueológica realizada en el nº 11 de la C/ Almendralejo (Mérida)”, Mérida, Excavaciones Arqueológicas 10 (2004) (209–20) 217–19. I could not see specific pottery in the finds list on the attached CD ‘int.12.pdf’ to confirm the dating, although unspecified late imperial (3rd–5th c.) or late antique / Visigothic (6th–8th c.) coarseware was mentioned in associated contexts, e.g. UE 73 (a deposit on the road) or (less significantly) UE 82 (the fill of a late house drain coming off the portico). I am grateful to D. Osland pers. comm. for alerting me to this reference, and for his opinion that the coarsewares of UE 73 date to 450–550, based on parallel sets from (unspecified) other sites within the city where imported wares are also present. Obviously, such unpublished observations are problematic, but here I use them as preferable to using a mid-3rd c. TPQ alone. I use the full dating range for the pottery concerned, as specific wares with individual dating ranges are not mentioned. Dating summary: range 450–550, midpoint 500, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 2/3. 02HIS Emerita (Mérida) (nº 2 de la c/Almendralejo, Morerías, just inside western city wall): A wall (UE 50) and a floor (UE 134) were established over the portico in the Late Roman period: G. Sánchez Sánchez, “Intervención arqueológica en el solar de la c/Almendralejo, nº 2, c.v. a la c/Morería: nuevas aportaciones al conocimiento de la red viaria en Augusta Emerita”, Mérida, Excavaciones Arqueológicas 4 (1998) 115–36, esp. 122–24, plus 131. This report notes that the context below these levels (UE 114—a stratum of red earth underlying many late changes) produced Sigillata Hispanica Tardia, Sigillata Hispanica and cooking and storage wares of ‘Bajoimperial’ 3rd to 5th c. date, of which specific forms are not mentioned. It caused me to use the full dating range for the pottery concerned. I am grateful

APPENDIX 1: A5c Portico Encroachment, Unstructured to D. Osland pers. comm. for alerting me to this reference. This underlying layer provides the basis for a contextual dating of the replanning of this area. Dating summary: range 200–500, midpoint 350, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 2/3. 02HIS Emerita (Mérida) (nº 7 de la c/Hernando de Bustamante, intramural, north-west side of the city): A public portico, flanking a road, was taken over by private structures, in the 3rd or 4th c., according to the excavators: J.A. Estévez Morales, “Intervención arqueológica en el solar de la c/Hernando de Bustamante, nº 7: espacios de uso público (vía) y privado de época romana”, Mérida, Excavaciones Arqueológicas 4 (1998) 83–113. In their text, we learn that a wall (UE 18) was built blocking the colonnade. I have not been able to locate any dating evidence from the report to support the dating. UE 18 only produced 1st to 3rd c. cooking and storage ware and an iron key dated to the same period, nothing later. As the dating given does not match that of the finds, I will treat this encroachment as undated. I am grateful to D. Osland for alerting me to this reference. Dating summary: Undated. 03GAL Rheims (rue du Générale Sarrail): A secondary road, 50 m inside the north-west fortification, saw its portico and sidewalk built over in the 3rd or first half of the 4th c., according to the excavators. No details of dating are given: R. Neiss, “Reims Champagne-Ardenne”, Gallia informations CD 1998–1999 (1998) PDF document 51454Zo.PDF, available at http://www.revues-gallia.cnrs.fr/IMG/zip/GI98.zip (last accessed December 2014). Dating summary: range 200–350, midpoint 275, class 0, publication 1/3. 06ITS Luni (Decumanus): The portico of the Decumanus Minor, behind the Julio-Claudian temple, was partially converted into a room for dolia storage. I do not have any dating evidence for this development: A.M. Durante and L. Gervasini, Luni. Zona archeologica e Museo Nazionale (Rome 2000) 84–85, with fig. 46. I could not find a reference to this new building in A.M. Durante, “L’edilizia privata a Luni”, in Abitare in città. La Cisalpina tra impero e medioevo, edd. J. Ortalli and M. Heinzelmann (Palilia 12) (Rome 2003) 141–52. Dating summary: Undated. 06ITS Carsulae (north-south street): The portico has been encroached in part by a structure with reused material, including rubble and brick: L. Lavan site observations April 2016. Dating summary: Undated. 06ITS Lucus Feroniae (street towards the Baths): The portico was closed by a low rubble wall, in two places, after a possible late rebuilding with 3 columns of not-exactly-matching pieces without a pedestal, alongside other pedestals: L. Lavan site observation April 2016 (see appendix C5).

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We have no obvious TAQ, so a (very late) generic TAQ for constructions of this quality is the mid-point of the Gothic Wars, after which civil monumental building is very rare. Dating summary: 250–544.5, midpoint 397.25, class Cs4 (reused material), z (regional development), publication 3/3. Generic late antique date. 07AFR Tipasa (House of the Frescoes): Porticoes on two streets are closed by walls that are given the same phasing as walls which divided rooms of the adjacent domus: J. Baradez, “La maison des fresques et les voies la limitant”, Libyca 9 (1961) (49–129) plan 31, with typology of walls, containing reused materials, given on pp. 61–63. Of phasing and dating, it is clear that the large houses in this area around the cardo maximus were destroyed by a fire (pp. 104–105). After this, before the end of the 4th c., the area was reoccupied by a fish salting establishment lasting into the 5th c., in which the ‘sidewalks’ (i.e. porticoed sidewalks) were incorporated as corridors within the complex. For details of the fish salting establishment see pp. 92–93. This phase seems to correspond to the street level layer C of the cardo maximus road surfaces, which has 4th–5th c. pottery in it (p. 79). During this phase late road layer C, covered over the sidewalks, almost completely, eliminating them on one side, narrowing them by around a half on the other (fig. 19 with pp. 81–82). The sidewalks of the decumanus were closed by small walls (p. 105). The dating evidence presented in this report does not allow for full stratigraphic scrutiny, as the account of the layers and the account of the finds does not contain any easy cross references, and the finds are not presented in a fully stratigraphic manner. Thus, it is not easy to identify what ceramics have been used to date layers. We have rather to accept the assertion of the report, and hope they are reasonable. This is a shame in view of the serious effort that has been made to record both stratigraphy and finds, which are backed up by associated graffiti from plaster inside the houses. A second problem is that although we have phase dates for different styles of masonry, it is hard to be sure that they all belonged together in the same moment as a single architectural scheme, in view of the sporadic nature of modifications, typically blockings. In view of this situation, we can adopt a date of 387.5–500, the full period of occupation suggested by associated, rather than strictly stratigraphic, finds. The hoard found in room Q, that relates to the raised floor of the re-occupation (p. 154), is not very helpful in refining chronology, although it reinforces, based on ceramics, of the excavator’s view of the occupation period: it contains coins from Constantine II Caesar (317–337) to Valentinian III (425–55). The other hoards are less useful due to lack of clear stratigraphic indications (unless I missed something, as I did not obtain the loose plans relating to this report). It is important to point out that the enclosure of the colonnaded sidewalks / porticoes into rooms

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APPENDIX 1: A5c Portico Encroachment, Unstructured

happened within a phase of a major functional change and replanning, after a fire, when the adjacent house was given over to fish salting. Dating summary: range 387.5–500, midpoint 443.75, class Cs3 (associative, finds), publication 3/3. 09DAC Justiniana Prima (Acropolis): On the east-west colonnaded street, the northern portico was secondarily enclosed: J.-P. Caillet and Č. Vasić et al., “La rue centrale et la ‘Maison aux Pithoi’”, in Caričin Grad III: L’acropole et ses monuments (cathédrale, baptistère et bâtiments annexes), edd. J.-P. Caillet, N. Duval, M. Jeremić and V. Popović (CEFR 75/3) (Rome and Belgrade 2010) (557–78) 568–69, 573, with p. 60 fig. 1.26a and fig. 6.7 and pl. 6. Walls blocked the intercolumniations, which were made out of schist bound with clay, whilst two late lateral walls divided the western half of the portico, in front of ‘complex 4’. This development does not seem to involve any detected industrial activity, and neither can it be characterised as occupation by cellular rooms / shops, as the new rooms are of very unequal sizes. There is no dating available for this development, but it must lie within the 535 to early 7th c. (the decisive year of 616 being taken as the date of end of Roman urban life in this part of the Balkans) occupation of the site, suggested by coin finds and the decision to create the city in 535 (Just. Nov. 11), for which see appendix A5a. Dating summary: range 535–616, midpoint 575.5, class x (historical text), z (regional development), Cs3 (associative coins), publication 3/3. 09DAC Justiniana Prima (Upper City) (3 examples): The porticoes (one or both not clear) of the north and south streets of the upper city seem to have been blocked, from traces found there: see V. Kondić and V. Popović, Caričin Grad. Site fortifié dans l’Illyricum byzantin (Belgrade 1977) p. 55 fig. 34 and p. 58 fig. 37 with 324–25. (i) In the north street, the colonnade was replaced and the passage was blocked. (ii) In the south street, the intercolumniations of the colonnade were blocked, as was the passage. (iii) In the west street, the north portico (as seen on p. 50 fig. 30) was blocked in one section, which then housed a circular oven and hand mill (representing a bakery), and was entirely replaced with a new building in another section. See also below a cross reference for similar developments in the upper town, west portico of north-south street, by the ‘principia’. There is no dating available for these developments, but they must lie between 535 and the early 7th c. occupation of the site, as suggested by coin finds and the decision to create the city in AD 535 (Just. Nov. 11) on which see appendices A5a and C2. It is at least possible, even probable, that they date to after the death of Justinian in 565, when the site may have experienced a slowing or cessation of its monumental construction projects. The decisive year for the Slav invasions, of 616, is taken as date of end of Roman urban life in this part of the Balkans.

Dating summary: range 535–616, midpoint 575.5, class x (historical text), z (regional development), Cs3 (associative coins), publication 3/3. 10MAC Nicopolis (in Epirus) (Main east-west street, close to Basilica A): Three lateral walls of cellular ‘shops’ with much reused material and tile in their walls were built along one side of the street, over the site of the portico, joining the pier emplacements of the portico to the site of the ‘back wall’ (which seems to have been replaced by a new rubble and brick wall). One wall covers the top of the pier emplacement and continues onto the sidewalk of the street, part in what looks like a slightly different type of masonry (in terms of the reused blocks it has within it, which seem to include more stone). However, there is no break in the wall, so presumably it is of one phase covering the portico and the street at the same time. A third wall also extends onto the roadway although not very far. A fourth wall is vegetated. All the walls seem to be part of a group of rooms that replace the portico of the street without much regard for its plan, but the walls were built at the height of the ancient surface, rather than a higher post-antique surface: L. Lavan site observation April 2017. Dating summary: Undated. 13ASI Aizanoi (colonnaded street) (2): A room was installed in the north-east portico of the early 5th c. colonnaded street in a secondary phase: K. Rheidt, “Aizanoi. Bericht über die Ausgrabungen und Untersuchungen 1992 und 1993”, AA (1995) (693–718) 710 fig. 26, 712. Of architectural form, this room was constructed using spolia. Part of the marble paving of the portico was removed as part of this development. Another encroachment room seems to have been established in the south-west portico of the street, but it is not clear if this was an individual initiative or part of a row: Rheidt (1995) 710 and 712. Of phasing, for the north-east portico, the encroachment occupation does probably not represent the final ancient phase, because, in the shops behind, the final phase was characterised by a raised level with a higher threshold: Rheidt (1995) 710 and 712. We do not have the same information for the south-east portico, but this is not of any consequence, as in both cases the encroachment relies for its dating on the creation of the street and its destruction. Of dating, the street itself is dated to the 25 years 402– 427, based on two coin finds (not much evidence, though enough to qualify for a contextual dating in the absence of other indicators): coin(s) of 395 were found under the construction level of the north portico stylobate, and a coin of 402 from a pithos sealed beneath the south portico, directly behind the south stylobate: Rheidt (1995) 712. This provides a contextual date for the street and thus a TPQ of 402 for the subsequent encroachment of the porticoes. A suggestive TAQ for the whole derives from earthquake damage found on site. This is detected in the form

APPENDIX 1: A5c Portico Encroachment, Unstructured of columns which have fallen over flat in a line reflecting where they stood, next to their emplacements, rather than being found in heaps of dislocated rubble, as one might expect had buildings fallen down over a long period of time. The columns are covered by a destruction layer that includes a coin of the early 7th c., suggesting the earthquake occurred before the urban dislocation associated with the Persian invasion of 614: Rheidt (1995) 712. The excavators wish to link this evidence to an earthquake recorded in Constantinople in 557/58: Theophanes AM 6050 (AD 557/58 date in edn. Mango and Scott (1997)); Malalas 18.124 [Guidoboni Catalogo no. 193 of 14/23 December AD 557]. Of function, the room in the north-east portico contained a hearth and “Schlackenresten” (slag remains), indicating its occupation by a blacksmith: Rheidt (1995) 710 and 712. Overall, the encroachments lie between the TPQ of 402 provided by the coin below the street, and the destruction ascribed to the earthquake of 557. The earthquake date proposed is acceptable in the absence of other candidates. It does not contradict other evidence. Dating summary: range 402–557, midpoint 479.5, class Cs8 (contextual coins), class Cs2 (catch-all other: earthquake), x (historical), publication 3/3. 13ASI Sardis (east-west colonnaded street by gymnasium): A ‘room’ was established within a portico in front of shops on the north side of the street. Here an L-shaped structure of 1.65 m by 4.65 m encroached from room W2 onto the portico sometime after the construction of the shops, which are on a street that is dated, based on excavations on its south side, to the first quarter of the 5th c.: J. Stephens Crawford, The Byzantine Shops at Sardis (Archaeological Exploration of Sardis 9) (Cambridge, Mass. 1990) 37, with fig. 130 showing a photo of it as excavated. G.M.A. Hanfmann, “Excavations at Sardis, 1958”, BASOR 154 (1959) (5–35) 17 refers to it as a “flimsy porch-like construction of reused tiles and bricks”. There is the possibility that it was a rudimentary bar counter, sticking out into the portico as does one at Ephesus on the Upper Embolos, but there is nothing within it to confirm any special features that might make this identification secure, though finds inside W2 (many food bones, glassware in the form of goblets and flasks), relating only to the final occupation, did indicate a possible restaurant (Crawford (1990) 37–43), causing Crawford to interpret the L-shape structure in the portico as a bench. Of dating, the room is likely to be from after 400. This TPQ comes from coin finds from the south side of the street, which date the construction of this great avenue: see appendix C3 for further details. N.B. the coins of Zeno (AD 474–91) found beneath one of the floors in the shops of the north side of the road were disregarded. A TAQ for the construction of the room comes from the occupation of the portico, for which we have to rely on coins from the

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occupation levels of the shops, which collapsed at some point in the early 7th c., in either an earthquake or (less likely given the abundant finds) a man-made disaster. The abundant coin finds from the many rooms of the shops are commonly from the time of Valentinian (with a few stragglers from earlier), but run out in the time of Heraclius (the latest dated to 616), except in the case of room E5 where a follis of Constans II (of 659–664) was located: Crawford (1990) 19–106, esp. 57. The absence of clear contextual recording reduces the significance of this last coin: it is possibly intrusive. I would place the TAQ for occupation, and thus for the creation of this room, at 25 years after 616, following the rules of this study. Dating summary (for construction of room established inside portico): range 400–641, midpoint 520.5, class Cs8 (contextual coins), publication 2/3. The known disruptive consequences of the Persian invasions from 614 onwards in my view affect new construction more than occupation. 15ORI Petra (colonnaded street): Here, rooms were built out into the street portico from the existing shops. This was done in an uncoordinated manner, so that the new rooms obliterated the continuous street façade, with a ragged line of new building: P. Parr, “A sequence of pottery from Petra”, in Near Eastern Archaeology in the Twentieth Century, ed. J.A. Sanders (Garden City, New York 1970) 348–81; D. Kirkbride, “A short account of excavations at Petra 1955–1956”, ADAJ 4–5 (1960) 117–23; Z.T. Fiema, “The Roman street of the Petra Project, 1997. A preliminary report”, ADAJ 42 (1998) 395–424; Z.T. Fiema, “Remarks on the development and significance of the colonnaded street in Petra, Jordan”, in La rue dans l’Antiquité. Définition, aménagement, devenir. Actes du colloque de Poitiers (7–9 Septembre 2006), edd. P. Ballet, N. Dieudonné-Glad and C. Saliou (Rennes 2008) 161–68, esp. 166. Of phasing, the presence of column drums in the building material of the new walls reveals that the portico was at least partly ruinous at the time when the encroaching rooms were built: Fiema (2008) 166. Fiema considers the encroachment to be a planned development (“some resemblance to a planned enterprise”), although he does not state why: Fiema (2008) 166. Judging from the plan of Fiema (1998) 399 fig. 1, and the reconstruction drawing of C. Kanellopoulos, “Petra. Roman Street Project”, AJA 103.3 (1999) 509 fig. 22, there seems to be no continuous street façade, with the portico having been ruined to construct the rooms. This to me is the mark of a lack of planning, in comparison to other rows of cellular rooms on colonnaded streets elsewhere. Of dating, a strong TPQ for the building of the shop extensions comes from an altar / statue base dated to ca. AD 283, incorporated in the walls: P. Parr (1970) 351; D. Kirkbride (1960) 121 (unpublished inscription). This is the only really solid dating evidence from the 1955–56

106 excavations, as levels were mixed in cleaning, and finds were disrupted / lost in storage. The more recent excavations have provided other indicators, though not quite as strong: Fiema (1998) 414–15 describes coin finds from an ashy layer inside the original shop room XXIX, of “53 coins, seven of which were certainly minted after AD 363”, [a coin list is not given] as well as unspecified 4th c. pottery, indicating a destruction which he believes predates the encroachment of the portico with reused material. These ashy levels were sealed by a sand and silt deposit, thought to be caused by flooding, which contained 4th–5th c. pottery and unspecified coins. Fiema tentatively supports a dating for the destruction layer of AD 363 (the date of an earthquake), arguing that the post 363 material might be intrusive. I find it hard to reach a fixed view of this data: I cannot see on what grounds the coins should be intrusive, and there is a danger that we might be trying to push evidence within an upper boundary defined by the earthquake of 363, when in fact it suggests that the destruction was later. On the earthquake of 363, as represented by the literary sources and other evidence from the region, see K.W. Russell, “The Earthquake of May 19, A.D. 363”, BASOR 238 (1980) (47–64) esp. 48–49 on coin evidence from Petra [not in Guidoboni Catalogo, but in Ambraseys Catalogue 148–51]. Overall, it seems best to say that the redevelopment certainly dates after AD 283, but was probably associated with a rebuild after 363. It is likely to have followed shortly on from earthquake damage, given the column drums found in the walls of the new rooms, and because the development looks reactive in character, clearly related to maintain occupation on the same site, rather than representing the rebuilding of a long ruined complex. The overall character of the stratigraphy, as discussed by Fiema, does suggest that this is likely to represent a recovery in the 25 year period after damage in the earthquake of AD 363. Dating summary: range 363–88, midpoint 375.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs8 (contextual coins), Cs3 (associative, phase of development), Cs2 (catch-all other, earthquake), publication 2/3 (based on pottery). See also (appendix K2a): 06ITS Ostia (Palaestra): The portico intercolumniations are closed by walls (and the space of the portico presumably subdivided) within the period 443–?450. These walls, one of which included a threshold, were removed during early excavations. It is not certain that there were cellular shops here. See also (appendix Y4): 09DAC Justiniana Prima (north-south street, west portico, by the ‘Principia’): Intercolumniations were blocked in a late phase, dating sometime 535–616. See also (appendix Y5): 15ORI Sepphoris (Decumanus, Area 68.1): The last walls on the whole site were built both over the portico and over the roadway paving, occur alongside a series of plaster

APPENDIX 1: A5d Portico Encroachment, Structured layers, separated by thin layers of debris, spread over the road (600–612.5). Discounted: 02HIS Emerita (Mérida) (nº 6 de la c/Lope de Vega, intramural, south side of the city): Porticoes were apparently invaded in the Late Roman period, but the documentation is problematic: F. Palma García, “Ampliación al conocimiento del trazado viario romano de Mérida. Intervención arqueológica en el solar nº 6 de la c/Lope de Vega”, Mérida, Excavaciones Arqueológicas 5 (1999) (225– 42) 233, 240. Notably, the layers are confused in the report. It is claimed that UE 126 is 5th–6th c. in one list, based on ARS D and ARS Hayes 58A, neither of which suit this period [ARS D 300–700 DCAMNO; Hayes 58A given as ca. 290/300– 375 LRP], whilst in another list the context is listed as 1st to 2nd c. in date. Similar confusion exists with context UE 125. I am grateful to D. Osland for alerting me to this reference.

A5d Portico Encroachment, Structured

02HIS Emerita (Mérida) (nº 30 de la calle Captan Francisco Almaraz, north-west corner of the city): A Roman house gradually took over the portico in a late remodelling project, at which time the road was covered with a new surface of rammed gravel. The building was abandoned around the 6th c. AD: Departamento de Documentación del Consorcio, “Intervención arqueológica realizada en la calle Francisco Almaraz, nº 30 (Mérida),” Mérida, Excavaciones Arqueológicas 9 (2003) 85–90. Unfortunately, no finds inventory was provided with this excavation in the file “int04. pdf” of the accompanying CD, with which it might be possible to locate the dating basis. I am grateful to D. Osland pers. comm. for alerting me to this reference. Dan’s work in the archives in Merida has revealed no further dating evidence for the house. However, for the road, the first “beaten earth [rather than gravel] surface (UE 68) over the Roman road”, corresponding to the occupation of the portico, is dated contextually by ceramics to the 4th c., with a few reservations. D. Osland has established that the first “beaten earth” [rather than gravel] surface (UE 68) over the road “contains some ollas that may be 4th / 5th c. rather than 3rd / 4th”. It is this evidence that will be taken as providing the date for the portico encroachment, of the full range of the ceramics, as individual ceramics are not specified. The road is covered by a collapse in the second half of the 6th c.: see appendix C10b. Dating summary: range 300–500, midpoint 400, class Cs3 (associative, finds), publication 1/3 or 2/3 with D. Osland’s observations. 02HIS Emerita (Mérida) (no. 3 de la calle Forner y Segarra, intramural, north-west corner of the city): A house (although there is no architectural indication it was a domus) eventually took over the street portico: P. Sánchez Barrero, “Nuevos datos sobre el trazado viario urbano de Augusta Emerita en el cerro del Calvario. Intervención arqueológica en un

APPENDIX 1: A5d Portico Encroachment, Structured solar de la calle Forner y Segarra, 3”, Mérida, Excavaciones Arqueológicas 10 (2004) (113–19) 118. No dating evidence is specified. I could not see specific pottery in the finds list on the attached CD ‘int06.pdf’ to confirm the dating. I am grateful to D. Osland for alerting me to this reference. Dating summary: Undated. 06ITS Ostia (3, and 1 just before the period): Subdivision of a portico, into shops, unless stated otherwise. Insula 1.8.5 (Via Epagathiana north-south street, east side, north-east and opposite Bivium): At least 8 shops were extended into the portico: B. Struebel, “Ostia: Entwicklung und Visualisierung der Geländeniveaus im Stadtraum”, in Die antike Stadt im Umbruch. Kolloquium in Darmstadt, 19. bis 20. Mai 2006, edd. N. Burkhardt and R.H.W. Stichel (Wiesbaden 2010) (84–91) fig. 2, with A. Gering, “Plätze und Straßensperren an Promenaden. Zum Funktionswandel Ostias in der Spätantike”, RömMitt 111 (2004) (299–381) 358– 59. Not in J. Schoevaert, Les boutiques d’Ostie du Ier s. av. J.-C. au Ve s. ap. J.-C. L’économie urbaine au quotidien, vol. 2, Catalogues (Ph.D. diss., Univ. of Paris 7, 2013). Of architectural features, the walls seem to be in opus testaceum, with some layers of tufa and some reused stone blocks (from observing the restored walls): L. Lavan site observation September 2013. Of phasing, Gering (2004) 358–59 makes the observation that the thresholds are at +30 cm above the road, with a plan on p. 350 fig. 28, numbered T4b by Gering and p. 359 fig. 37 for a photo. The thresholds of the Via Epagathiana shops reach this higher level, but the foundations are a little messy, as one might expect if they were cut into a high street level. Thus, we can suppose that the new rooms were established at the same time (or perhaps shortly after) as the higher street level seen in the Bivium opposite, and elsewhere near this spot (with further evidence from the Temple of Hercules and from the Taberne dei Pescivendoli; see appendix C8). Of dating, a ceramic deposit from the Bivium and coins from the Temple of Hercules precinct both suggest that this rise in levels occurred in the 25 years after the mid 3rd c. In the latter area, the deposits supporting the new level are dated, based on contextual coins and pottery, to 240–65 to be precise, based on the start date of the last find: see appendix C8. Dating summary: range 240–265, midpoint 252.5, class z (site development), Cs9 (contextual ceramic), Cs5 (catchall masonry), publication 3/3. Insula 1.10.2 (north-south street, east side): 9 shops were extended into the portico with banded opus mixtum (opus vittatum mixtum to others), with reused tufa facing blocks: Schoevaert (2013) Catalogues (Ph.D. diss., Univ. of Paris 7, 2013) 67–68. The reuse of tufa facing blocks suggests a date after the mid-3rd c. We have no obvious TAQ, so a (very late) generic TAQ for constructions of this quality is the midpoint of the Gothic War, after which such secular public building is very rare.

107 Dating summary: 250–544.5, midpoint 397.25, class Cs4 (reused material), z (regional development), publication 3/3. Generic late antique date. Insula 1.2.2 (Decumanus, opposite Foro della statua eroica, north side of the street): The portico was blocked in reused brick and with at least one shop threshold block. A TPQ for the blocking can be derived from the reuse of brick, which suggests a date from the mid-3rd c. onwards, when we can attest to the reuse of bricks on a significant scale in the Rome area, though normally with good selection: T.L. Heres, Paries. A Proposal for a Dating System of Late-Antique Masonry Structures in Rome and Ostia, AD 235–600 (Amsterdam 1982) 34, 86, 92. The Kent mission has also recovered archaeological dating at Ostia for (wellsorted) reused brick in public building from around the 3rd quarter of the 3rd c. at the Foro della statua eroica phase 1a and the Bivium Nymphaeum. A TAQ for the blocking can be derived from the raising of the street, because the blocking occurred at the ‘Domitianic level’ of the street, before it was raised up in mid- to later 4th c. This raising occurred sometime after 346 and before 385–89, depending on an earthquake theory and an associate inscription, for which see appendix C8 (especially) and also appendices C4, H2 and W1: L. Lavan site observations 2012. This site is not in Schoevaert (2013) Catalogues. Dating summary: range 250–380, midpoint 315, class Cs4 (reused material), Cs3 (associative, phase of development), Cs6 (absolute, inscription almost in situ), publication 1/3. Insula 2.6.2 (Decumanus, west end of the Portico of Neptune): The portico was partially replaced at the west end, by walls in opus testaceum, including a small nymphaeum built of the same material. This area was then closed off from the portico to the east with a wall of ‘banded opus mixtum’, after which the interior was coated in marble paving, as was the nymphaeum itself (Schoevaert (2013) Catalogues, 142–43 with vol. 1, Texte 85). For reports, saying very little: see D. Vaglieri, “Ostia”, NSc 6 (1909) (46–58) 49; D. Vaglieri, “Ostia”, NSc 6 (1909) (82–99) 88; D. Vaglieri, “Ostia”, NSc 6 (1909) (197–209) 201. Of dating, the use of what Schoevaert calls ‘banded opus mixtum’ (opus vittatum mixtum to others) suggests to him a time after the middle of the 3rd c., drawing on the judgement of T.L. Heres, Paries. A Proposal for a Dating System of Late-Antique Masonry Structures in Rome and Ostia, AD 235–600 (Amsterdam 1982) 29. Of alternative dating, one might suggest that this development followed an earthquake, perhaps that of AD 346, recorded in Jer. Chron. Olympiad 281 (AD 346) at Rome for that year [Guidoboni Catalogo no. 54]. It has been argued that the building of piers inside the portico could be part of a recovery from this earthquake, as argued by J.-T. Bakker, http://www.ostia-antica.org/dict/topics/trav ertine/020401/020401.htm (last accessed July 2015). I

108 accept that the presence of brick piers bracing other parts of the portico does indicate a major structural shock, likely of seismic origins. Furthermore, the presence of the nymphaeum as a complex water feature here is unlikely to date before such a trauma hit, as we might expect to see damage to it. Rather, it should date after the buttresses were required. Thus, although the specific earthquake dating is flimsy, I will accept the date of 346 and place the refurbishment in the 25 years after 346, following the rules of this study. Certainly, major changes did take place in the adjacent baths, including the reuse of columns from the Palaestra of the Baths of Neptune in a portico in front of the theatre (dated by an associative inscription of 385–89), which might suggest damage at this time: P. Pensabene, Ostiensium marmorum decus et decor: studi architettonici, decorativi e archeometrici (Rome 2007) 242–43, with appendices C8, C4 and H7. For an attempt to relate 4th c. inscriptions recording earthquake damage or rebuilding to the earthquake of 346, alongside possible archaeological evidence of damage and rebuilding, see F. Galadini and P. Galli, “The 346 A.D. earthquake (Central-Southern Italy): an archaeoseismological approach”, Annals of Geophysics 47.2/3 (2004) 885–905. It is worthwhile noting that there was also an earthquake at Beneventum in 375, although this was perhaps too far away to have been felt in Rome: Symmachus Ep. 1.3.4. [Guidoboni Catalogo no. 58]. Dating summary: 346–71, midpoint 358.5, class Cs2 (catch-all earthquake), publication 1/3. Poor. Discounted: (i) Insula 3.16.6 (Via della Foce in front of Terme della Trinacria). Not in Schoevaert (2013) Catalogues but can be seen on his p. 241 as a lateral division of the portico of panelled opus mixtum with opus reticulatum. See Schoevaert (2013) vol. 1, Texte 85 and Heres (1982) 29 for undemonstrated but uncontradicted claims of Early Imperial dating of these masonry types. (ii) Insula 4.5.1 (Decumanus, Taberne dei Pescivendoli, outside ‘Macellum’): In the portico of the ‘macellum’ three cellular units and an entrance way were installed, with blocking walls in opus vittatum: http://www.ostia-antica.org/regio4/5/5-1.htm; A. Gering, “Plätze und Straßensperren an Promenaden. Zum Funktionswandel Ostias in der Spätantike”, RömMitt 111 (2004) (299–381) 350 fig. 28. Not in Schoevaert (2013) Catalogues. Much reused material, with some inscribed pieces, with the inscribed face visible, can be seen in the marble paving of the shop floor: L. Lavan and R. Sadler site observation September 2008. There is also copious mixed reused marble, basalt and tufa in the lower courses of the transversal wall dividing the portico: L. Lavan and D. Underwood site observation September 2012. This last detail suggests a date from the late 3rd c. onwards. Reused blocks were also used to make an entrance to the complex, at the ‘Domitianic’ street level, although it is not clear if they were installed at the same time, or if they were

APPENDIX 1: A5d Portico Encroachment, Structured intended to provide an entrance to the ‘macellum’. The fact that steps do descend to the earlier street level and are not set at the late higher level seen in the construction of the Bivium Nymphaeum opposite, suggests a date no later than the mid-3rd c., as a ceramic deposit in a drain put out of use by the Bivium contains a deposit of the first half of the 3rd c. This is also the date of the raising of the level in the adjacent Temple of Hercules, where the deposits supporting the new level are dated based on contextual coins and pottery to 240–65 to be precise,—the start date of the last find: see appendices C8 and H1. However, the presence of visible reused material also provides a TPQ of the mid3rd c., under the rules of this study. Such a date puts it outside the boundaries of this study. 07AFR Carthage (north side of the Circular Harbour): Rooms fronted by street porticoes were demolished and replaced by a new complex in the mid-6th c. The new buildings used the entire portico space, which was now filled by rooms or just entirely obliterated from the site: H.R. Hurst, Excavations at Carthage: the British Mission, Volume II.1: the Circular Harbour, North Side: the Site and Finds other than Pottery (Oxford 1994) 27–30, with 27 for the best dating, of rooms B1–10. For the ceramic report see M. Fulford, “The deposits”, in The Circular Harbour, North Side. The Pottery, Volume II.2, edd. M.G. Fulford and D.P. S.Peacock (Oxford 1994) (76–96) 88. The porticoes were built in the 2nd–3rd c. AD according to the excavators. They may, however, date from the later 3rd to 4th c. or even 5th to 6th c., according to my analysis of their irregular form plus the finding of a single ceramic: see appendix C4. The porticoes enclose irregular amounts of space, 1.4 m to the east, 1.5 m to 2.5 m to the south, and 2.1 m to the west, as Broise (2012) notes. The new complex’s dating to the mid-6th c. comes from demolition / make-up layers and occupation layers of the 6th c. phase. (i) Of the make-up layers, 4.38a–e contained a “good group of 6th c. pottery, plus one identified Vandal coin and three 5th / 6th-century illegibles”: Hurst (1994) 27–30. The ceramic report gives the following precision: Layer 4.38c contains amphora LRA 3 (Biv) [Two-handled: 387.5–?600 RADR] and LRA 5/6 (Palestinian) [not checked, not on RADR], along with fine ware ARS Harbourside Catalogue 58 (fig. 1.8, no. 46) [not checked]. Only the amphorae are dated, and point to “a date no earlier than about the mid 5th century”. Layer 4.38b contains ARS, the latest of which are Hayes 101 [535–600 E. Vacarro pers. comm. 2017] and a stamped piece comparable to Hayes ‘no. 331’ [cross decorated with diamonds and dotted centres] or ‘no. 333’ [cross decorated with diamonds containing circles]. [These are both stamps of style E(ii) dated to 530–600 in LRP]. This material points to a date after ca. 525, according to the ceramicist, whilst the rest of the ARS indicates a range in the first half of the 6th c. This is apparently supported by the

APPENDIX 1: A5d Portico Encroachment, Structured later coarsewares from the deposit, e.g. handmade fabric 1.6–7 “which are attributable to this period”: Fulford (1994) 88. Furthermore (Fulford (1994) 76), coarsewares are indicated from these levels 4.38a–e, which alongside the ARS indicate “a date in the first half of the 6th c. and probably c. 525–55” (given as AD 525–50 on p. 88). (ii) Of the occupation layers above, 4.52, 4.61, 4.62 contained coins from the 5th/6th c. to Heraclius (AD 610–41) and Constans II (of AD 643–47 and of 647–59): Hurst (1994) 27–30. N.B. In the ceramic report, only make-up layers 4.38b and 4.38c are mentioned. The subsequent layers, strongly affected by residuality, produced some pottery of late 6th and 7th c. date (context 5.29): Fulford (1994) 77. For the coins see R. Reece, “Coins”, in the same volume (249–56) 251. Overall, I respect the sophistication of this ceramic report, but prefer to use my own dating rules to suggest a construction date for the new complex in the 25 year period after the start date of the latest dated item, so 535–60. This site is site no. 9 in H. Broise, “L’Évolution des insulae des maisons du cryptoportique et de la rotonde dans le contexte urbain”, in Carthage, colline de l’Odéon. Maisons de la rotonde et du cryptoportique (Recherches 1987–2000), vol. 2, edd. C. Balmelle, A. Bourgeois, H. Broise, J.-P. Darmon, and M. Ennaïfer (CEFR 457) (Rome 2012) (333–59) 345 fig. 384 no. 9 with p. 349. Dating summary: range 535–60, midpoint 547.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3. 07AFR Carthage (Cardo Maximus): On the Byrsa Hill, the porticoes of the Cardo Maximus were privatised, apparently in the 4th or 5th c. This dating is based on finds from the sandstone blocking wall, which included a fragment of ‘sigillée claire D’. However, the dating provided by one sherd can only be regarded as a TPQ, which is all that I accept here. Subsequent walls built on the street were less carefully built than those blocking the portico, being made of unformed rubble blocks and reused material, connected with a brown mortar: J. Deneuve and F. Villedieu, “Le Cardo Maximus et les edifices situés à l’est de la voie”, AntAfr 11 (1974) 95–130; J. Deneuve and F. Villedieu, “Le Cardo Maximus et les edifices situés à l’est de la voie”, in Byrsa I: rapports préliminaires des fouilles (1974–1976), edd. J.-M. Carrié et al. (CEFR 41) (Rome 1979) (143–76) 151, who note that the columns were removed when the wall following the stylobate was established. This site is site no. 10 of H. Broise, “L’Évolution des insulae des maisons du cryptoportique et de la rotonde dans le contexte urbain”, in Carthage, colline de l’Odéon. Maisons de la rotonde et du cryptoportique (Recherches 1987–2000), vol. 2, edd. C. Balmelle, A. Bourgeois, H. Broise, J.-P. Darmon, and M. Ennaïfer (CEFR 457) (Rome 2012) (333–59) 345 fig. 384 no. 10 with p. 349. ARS D appeared in the 4th c. and lasted

109 until the 7th c. according to C. Raynaud, “Céramique africaine Claire D”, in DCAMNO, thus giving a TPQ of 300. A reasonable TAQ is the capture of Carthage in 698, which seems to have resulted in the end of occupation over most of the city. Dating summary: range 300–698, midpoint 499, class Cs7 (TPQ pottery), publication 2/3 (as the pottery referred to has been classified in much more details). Generic late antique date. 07AFR Carthage (Decumanus Maximus, west side of the Byrsa Hill, so leaving the Forum): At an undated late period, the portico on the north side seems to have been walled up: L. Ladjimi-Sebaï, “Le decumanus maximus de Carthage”, CEDAC 15 (1996) (32–34) 32–33 with fig. 3 (photograph suggesting portico walled up). This encroachment is site no. 11 in H. Broise, “L’Évolution des insulae des maisons du cryptoportique et de la rotonde dans le contexte urbain”, in Carthage, colline de l’Odéon. Maisons de la rotonde et du cryptoportique (Recherches 1987–2000), vol. 2, edd. C. Balmelle, A. Bourgeois, H. Broise, J.-P. Darmon, and M. Ennaïfer (CEFR 457) (Rome 2012) (333–59) 345 fig. 384 no. 10, with p. 349. Dating summary: Undated. For subdivision of street porticoes into cellular rooms: See also (appendix A11): 15ORI Scythopolis (4): On the Street of Monuments and Valley Street, both sides of both streets, sometime within the period 534–749. See also (appendix C3): 13ASI Ephesus (Upper Embolos, phase 4–5, south of the Gate of Hercules): West portico, south of the Gate of Hercules, divided into cellular rooms in the period 576–614. See also (appendix C4): 13ASI Tripolis ad Meandrum (Hiera­ polis Street): The portico was subdivided into cellular rooms sometime in 300–700, with fixtures suggesting oil or wine production and finds being connected to food processing. See also (appendix C9a): 15ORI Salamis in Cyprus: The porticoes of the colonnaded street are blocked at the same time that an upper street paving is installed, sometime within the period 330–55. It is not certain these were blocked as shops. See also (appendix Y5): 15ORI Sepphoris: The southern shops were expanded with encroaching rooms that are rectangular and well-built in thin straight walls and contained within the portico. This development is dated generically to 250–612.5. See also (appendix Y7): 13ASI Sagalassos: On the east-west street by the north-west gate a stoa is subdivided into cellular rooms within the period 393–418. See also (appendix Y8): 13ASI Aphrodisias: Inside the Sebasteion colonnaded courtyard / temple approach, 16 rooms were set into the portico on the north side and 14

110 on the south side, although the last unit to the west on the southern side is double width, and so there may be a wall missing. The encroachment is dated to sometime in 350–400. For subdivision of porticoes of fora / agorai into cellular rooms: See also (appendix Y2): 13ASI Sagalassos (Lower Agora, west portico): sometime in 500–75; 13ASI Sagalassos (Upper Agora, west portico): (2) two parts of the west portico subdivided into rooms serving the shops behind, sometime in 525–641 (south end) and sometime in 525–75 (north end). See also (appendix Y3): 13ASI Arriasos: The cellular shops in the stoa in the Hellenistic city centre were extended to fill the portico, sometime in the period 250–614.

A6 Denudation of Minor Routes

04VIE Aix-en-Provence (Decumanus 1): The street was silted over by layers containing 4th–5th c. pottery (DSP Rigoir 1 [400–500 DCAMNO], sherds decorated with roulettes, Rigoir 5 [370–500 DCAMNO] and 18 [370–500 DCAMNO]). However, it was given a ditch to replace the drain: J. Guyon and N. Nin, “III: Antiquité tardive”, in Carte archéologique de la Gaule 13/4—Aix-en-Provence, Pays d’Aix, Val de Durance, edd. F. Mocci and N. Nin (Paris 2006) (413–442) 418, who list other ceramics. References to more detailed reports are available in Guyon and Nin’s text. This is a silt deposit building up slowly with use finds entering it, not a fill deposited in a single moment. What interests us here is the start of the road silting, which can be given a range based on the full range of the earliest dated ceramic, with 25 years added to the end, for circulation, of 375–525. Dating summary: range 375–525, midpoint 450, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3. 04VIE Aix-en-Provence (Decumanus 11): The street must have silted after the drains were blocked. The drain continued in use up to at least the 4th c., as revealed by ceramics from its fill, such as an African cooking pot of type CVII 9 [not checked], which does not appear before AD 380: J. Guyon and N. Nin, “III: Antiquité tardive”, in Carte archéologique de la Gaule 13/4—Aix-en-Provence, Pays d’Aix, Val de Durance, edd. F. Mocci and N. Nin (Paris 2006) (413–442) 418, who also notes CLAIR-B 3, 12, 14 and 15 [170–300; 140– 200; 200–250; 200–270 in DCAMNO, which does not give equivalent Hayes ARS numbers], sigillée luisante 7 and 74 [13–350 and 160–400 in DCAMNO], pâte claire engobée CLENG B2a, B13a, C2, E2, G1, F9 [250–450; 15 BC–25 AD; 300– 400; 250–400; 250–350; 300–400 in DCAMNO], CLAIR-D 32/58 = ARS Hayes 32/58 [287.5–312.5 LRP], CLAIR-D 59 = ARS Hayes 58B [ca. 290/300–375 LRP, perhaps meaning Hayes 59 as giving chronology for it of ca. 320–420 LRP in DCAMNO], CLAIR-D 63 = Hayes 63 [375–400 LRP] and “At 40.3” (‘Atlante form 40.3’ [360–440 Atlante]). I take the end date of the silt deposit as 375, the start date of the last

APPENDIX 1: A6 Denudation of Minor Routes ceramic, with the silting of the road itself belonging in the 25 years after the drain silting was complete. References to more detailed reports are available in Guyon and Nin’s text. Dating summary (of disuse of road): range 375–400, midpoint 387.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3. 04VIE Aix-en-Provence (Cardo 1): The street must have silted after the drains blocked. The drain below continued to function into the 4th c., as attested by the presence of Early Imperial ARS B forms (Hayes 3, 14 and 15), sigillée luisante (forms 7 [13–350 DCAMNO] and 14 [350–450 DCAMNO]) and pâte claire engobée CL-ENG B2a, B13a, C2, E2, F9, G1 [250–450, 280–400, 300–400, 250–400, 300–400, 250–350 DCAMNO], alongside CLAIR B-12 [140–200 DCAMNO with no Hayes nos.], African cooking ware CVII 9, which is given in the report as not appearing before 380 [not checked], as well as CLAIR-D 32 / 58 = Hayes 32 / 58 [287.5–312.5 LRP], CLAIR-D 59 = ARS Hayes 58B [ca. 290/300–375 LRP, perhaps meaning Hayes 59 as giving chronology for it of ca. 320–420 LRP in DCAMNO], CLAIR-D 63 = Hayes 63 [375–400 LRP] and “At 40.3” (‘Atlante form 40.3’ [360–440 Atlante]), with amphoras of Africa Tr 254 [= Agora M254 on DCAMNO, 0–400 RADR], LR 1b [187.5–250 Bon], Keay 52 [350–700 RADR] and oriental amphoras of LR 3a [LR3 one-handled 50 BC+ on RADR; LR two-handled 387.5–?600 on RADR], all in the fill: J. Guyon and N. Nin, “III: Antiquité tardive”, in Carte archéologique de la Gaule 13/4—Aix-en-Provence, Pays d’Aix, Val de Durance, edd. F. Mocci and N. Nin (Paris 2006) (413–442) 413. I note myself that ARS Hayes 12 could be used to show that silting was not complete until after 450, the start date of this, the last find. However, the text of the article suggests that this identification is a mistake, or that it is intrusive. Thus, I take the end date of the drain silting as 380 (the start date of African cooking ware CVII 9). I take the silting of the road as belonging in the 25 years after the drain silting is complete. Dating summary (of disuse of road): range 380–405, midpoint 392.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3. 04VIE Aix-en-Provence (Cardo 3): Cardo 3 was blocked and the portico covered with fill and turned into an alleyway. This development is dated to after the first decades of the 5th c., thanks to unspecified stamped DSP [overall range for DSP of 370–650 on DCAMNO] and ARS D form Hayes 73A [Hayes 73A being 420–75 according to E. Vaccaro pers. comm.] contained in the levels connected with this development: J. Guyon and N. Nin, “III: Antiquité tardive”, in Carte archéologique de la Gaule 13/4—Aix-en-Provence, Pays d’Aix, Val de Durance, edd. F. Mocci and N. Nin (Paris 2006) (413–442) 416. I take the ceramics (based on Hayes 73A, in the presence of the unspecified DSP) as providing a rough contextual date for the beginning of the disuse of the road in the period 420–445.

APPENDIX 1: A6 Denudation of Minor Routes Dating summary: range 420–445, midpoint 432.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3. 04VIE Aix-en-Provence (cardo 6): cardo 6 produced robbing levels on the road surface that have provided ceramics of late 5th to 7th c. date (ARS D form Hayes 67 [360–470 in LRP / SLRP], coarseware Pelletier A1 / B1 [A1 and B1 both 400–600 on DCAMNO if this is Céramique commune grise tardive de Provence occidentale] and marmite globulaire Cathma 13 [500–700 DCAMNO], DSP [370–650 DCAMNO], amphora LRA 1 [350–650 RADR with narrow-necked as 350– 650 and classic as 400–650]), whilst robbing continued into the 6th c.: CLAIR-D 99A [= ARS Hayes 99A 487.5–550 Bon] and CLAIR-D 103 [= Hayes 103 500–575 LRP]): J. Guyon and N. Nin, “III: Antiquité tardive”, in Carte archéologique de la Gaule 13/4—Aix-en-Provence, Pays d’Aix, Val de Durance, edd. F. Mocci and N. Nin (Paris 2006) (413–442) 416–17. This is not a dumped fill but a disturbed layer with ceramics of various dates mixed up, as stratigraphy has been mixed up by robbing, with some new material likely entering at the same time. Therefore, I will take the ceramic finds as indicating an associative date for the start of the robbing of sometime between 360 and 500, given that nothing appears to be later or earlier. Dating summary: range 360–500, midpoint 430, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3. Developments in Aix were very varied: (i) Stripping of minor roads seems to have happened in the 5th–6th c.: J. Guyon and N. Nin, “III: Antiquité tardive”, in Carte archéologique de la Gaule 13/4—Aix-en-Provence, Pays d’Aix, Val de Durance, edd. F. Mocci and N. Nin (Paris 2006) (413– 442) 417. (ii) However, Cardo 1 was repaired: see appendix C10a. (iii) Cardo 2 by the forum kept its pavement until it was covered by the Cathedral in the 6th c. References to more detailed reports are available in Guyon and Nin’s text. 11THR Thracian Philippopolis (Decumanus 12): The street saw encroachment, but these walls were built high above disuse deposits. The disuse deposits contained a coin of Philip the Arab (AD 244–49). In contrast, the adjacent Cardo saw rebuilding [exactly what is not specified, but it was probably the paving] with its water supply, above the old road level, and with the layer covering the water supply containing coins of Severina, wife of Aurelian (AD 270–75), and Constantius II (AD 337–61): E. Kesyakova, “A residential complex from Philippopolis”, in Studia in honorem Christo M. Danov, edd. A. Fol et al. (Thracia 12) (Sofia 1998) (159–71) 170. This raising of selected streets and abandonment of others in the city is seen in the 3rd c., and is dated by coins to “AD 270–282, whilst others kept their earlier paving or were stripped of it”: I. Topalilov, “Philippopolis. The city from the 1st to the beginning of the 7th c.”, in Roman Cities in Bulgaria, Vol. 1, ed. R. Ivanov (Sofia 2012) (363–437) proofs page number 14, dating not given in more detail. This wider ‘phase of development’ evidence from

111 the city suggests that the coin of Philip was likely not lost until 270–82, and that the loss of the original street surfaces dates from this time. I do not wish to invoke the Gothic sack of Philippopolis of AD 251 as a chronological argument here. Unfortunately, the nature of the coin range of 270–82 is not clear: does it refer to a single type of coin or to a range of different coins? If it refers to a range of different coins found in destruction levels (as seems likely) then the destruction should be dated to 282 and the disuse of some streets (if it really does all date from the same time) should be placed in the subsequent 25 years. Dating summary: range 282–307, midpoint 294.5, class Cs8 (contextual coins), class z (site development), publication 2/3. 13ASI Sagalassos (north half of the major north-south street): The last phase of street development in the city is marked by a stripping of paving. It is not well dated, but, as the last phase of the city, should be related to Late Antiquity. It can be best traced in the northern half of the major northsouth street (trench NS1). Here the final substratum was revealed by excavation, without any road paving (except for a single slab). This situation suggests that it had been robbed sometime after the last paving had been laid. According to the report the substratum was laid out between 450/75 and 550/75, likely based on the presence of phase 8 ceramics (which has this range, see below). See F. Martens, “Urban traffic in the hills of the eastern Mediterranean: the development, maintenance, and usage of the street system at Sagalassos in south-western Turkey”, in La rue dans l’Antiquité. Définition, aménagement, devenir. Actes du colloque de Poitiers (7–9 Septembre 2006), edd. P. Ballet, N. Dieudonné-Glad and C. Saliou (Rennes 2008) 191–200; F. Martens, “Late antique urban streets at Sagalassos”, in Technology in Transition A.D. 300–650, edd. L. Lavan, E. Zanini and A. Sarantis (Late Antique Archaeology 4) (Leiden 2007) (321–65) 346–55; L. Lavan, “The streets of Sagalassos in Late Antiquity: an interpretive study”, in P. Ballet et al. (2008) 201–14. Internal reports reveal the following details: for NS1, the final substratum contained two drains and overlay a layer with phase 8 ceramics. A TAQ for the end of urban occupation can be nominally given as 614, the date of the first Persian invasion in Asia Minor, after which investment in urban maintenance radically changes. Dating summary (stripping): 562.5–614, midpoint 588.25, class Cs9 (contextual ceramic), z (background regional), publication 3/3. 13ASI Sagalassos: A secondary street (trench NS2), an offshoot of the major north-south street seen in NS1, is supposed to have been abandoned “from the early 5th c.”. Of the stone elements, only the central drain was left, when it was excavated: F. Martens, “Late antique urban streets at Sagalassos”, in Technology in Transition A.D. 300–650, edd. L. Lavan, E. Zanini and A. Sarantis (Late Antique

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Archaeology 4) (Leiden 2007) (321–65) 346–55; F. Martens, “Urban traffic in the hills of the eastern Mediterranean: the development, maintenance, and usage of the street system at Sagalassos in south-western Turkey”, in La rue dans l’Antiquité. Définition, aménagement, devenir. Actes du colloque de Poitiers (7–9 Septembre 2006), edd. P. Ballet, N. Dieudonné-Glad and C. Saliou (Rennes 2008) 191–200; L. Lavan, “The streets of Sagalassos in Late Antiquity: an interpretive study”, in P. Ballet et al. (2008) 201–14. However, internal reports reveal that in trench NS2 there was a layer (layer 4) of light brown sandy soil with small and medium stones, gravelly in appearance, lying above the drain. This contained 11 sherds of 5th–6th c. date (no further details provided): F. Martens, “The street pattern sondages”, in Sagalassos Internal Report 1999 (140–50) 141 and 145. Such information does not seem to support the idea that the road was abandoned in the early 5th c.: it looks rather like a new road surface was laid in the 5th– 6th c. after which the paving was systematically removed, sometime before the nominal end of urban maintenance in 614, the year of the first Persian invasion of Asia Minor. I do not know why Martens changed her interpretation; future publications may resolve the contradictions of the published record. Dating summary (stripping of hypothetical stone paving): range 400–614, midpoint 507, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), z (background regional), publication 3/3. It is difficult to interpret these sequences from Sagalassos in terms of urban development. Any stripping of the paving has to be balanced against contemporary repaving of major routes in the city, including the same north-south road, especially in the Lower Agora, where it seems to come to an abrupt halt. It is possible that no robbing took place: rather, one could envisage that the street surfaces were being renewed, as part of the 6th c. renovation seen elsewhere on the north-south street, as discussed in appendices C3 and C9a. One might suggest that the renewal came to a sudden halt, and that planned paving was simply never completed. However, such a ‘revisionist’ interpretation involves disregarding the single paving stone described in NS1 above.

A7a Minor Streets Encroached before End of 3rd C. (with Dating Given in Summary, as Not Late Antique)

02HIS Emporiae (Empúries) (Cardo A in the Roman city, not the Greek city area): Tram 1 (Cardo A) saw the building of latrines (that were part of a public bath) over the roadway and its drain in the Flavian period (dug in 2000–2004), three silos in the Flavian period (dug roughly in 1920s) and two rooms of a domus in the Augustan period (dug in the 1920s): N. Romani i Sala, Carrers i serveis viaris a les ciutats romanes del conventus tarraconensis (s. ii ac-vi dc): evolució i tècniques constructives (Tarragona 2012) http://www.

tdx.cat/handle/10803/96884 (last accessed July 2014) 113 for a summary of occupation of public space from the 1st to 3rd c., then pp. 61–68, with p. 66 for further references. However, the last two encroachments were not excavated with proper records (pp. 62–63). The latrines built over the street have seen more recent excavation: J. Aquilué Abadías, P. Castanyer i Masoliver, M. Santos, and J. Tremoleda i Trilla, “Resultats del projecte d’excavacions arqueológiques a la Insula 30 de la ciutat romana d’Empuries (l’Escala, Alt Empordà): anys 2000–2004”, Tribuna d’ arqueologia 2004– 2005 (203–214). Without going into too much detail, we can note that these encroachments seem to belong to the first major phase of occupation (Augustan). They were certainly built prior to the installation of the main drain in the Flavian period. Given that the site was abandoned by the end of the 3rd c., I will not probe their chronology here. The latrines built over the street were part of the rebuilding of the baths in the first half of the 2nd c.: Aquilué Abadías, Castanyer i Masoliver, Santos, Tremoleda i Trilla (2004–2005) 210, although I was not able to establish the dating basis from this or other online summary reports I saw. In short, I was not able to locate the proper excavation report, which might be X. Aquilué, P. Castanyer, M. Santos, and J. Tremoleda, “Intervencions arqueològiques a Empúries (l’Escala, Alt Empordà) als anys 2002 i 2003”, Setenes Jornades d’Arqueologia de les Comarques Gironines (La Bisbal, 4 i 5 de juny de 2004) (Girona 2004) 265–95. 02HIS Barcelona (Barcino): The intervallum road on the north-east side of the city, north of the decumanus, was apparently encroached from the Flavian period: J. Beltrán de Heredia Bercero, “Continuity and change in the urban topography: archaeological evidence of the north-east quadrant of the city”, in The Archaeological Remains of Placa Del Rei in Barcelona: From Barcino to Barcinona (1st to 7th Centuries), ed. J. Beltrán de Heredia Bercero (Barcelona 2002) 96–107. A wall built across the road included an unusual block, which had a cavity containing coins: an ‘as’ of the time of Trajan (of AD 103–11) and another of Hadrian (of AD 125–28): p. 98 and p. 106 n. 2. A wine production facility was also built across the same street in the second half of the 3rd c. or beginning of the 4th c., based on contextual ceramic dating evidence of amphoras Dressel 23 / Keay XIII [200–512.5 RADR] and Dressel 20 small, used as product containers [Dressel 20 is 30–300 on RADR]): J. Beltrán de Heredia and C. Carreras, “Installacions vinicoles vinculades a domus: els exemples de Barcino i Baetulo”, in El vi tarraconense i laietà, ahir i avui: actes del simpòsium, edd. M. Prevosti and A. Martín (Col. Documenta 7) (Tarragona 2009) (151–165) 163. See also J. Beltrán de Heredia, “Premses vineres i installacions vinícoles a Barcino”, in Barcino. I. Les marques i terisseries d’àmfores al Pla de Barcelona, edd. C. Carreras and J. Guitart (Col. Corpus International des

APPENDIX 1: A7a Minor Streets Encroached before End of 3rd C. Timbres Amphoriques 15) (Barcelona 2009) 117–28, which does not add to this dating, other than to show that an antefix was reused in the walls (p. 120), which according to unspecified parallels is thought to be of the first half of the 1st c. AD. The full report for this excavation is likely contained in J. Beltrán de Heredia and E. Revilla, Memòria de la intervenció arqueològica al subsòl del Museu d’Historia de la Ciutat (Casa padellàs-Plaça del Rei) 1997–1998 Memòria d’Intervenció Arqueològica held at the Direcció General del Patrimoni Cultural, Generalitat de Catalunya) (Barcelona 2001) (not seen). 04VIE Narbonne (Colonia Narbo Martius): The narrow street north of the domus at the Clos de Lombarde site was encroached and blocked with presumed domestic structures: Y. Solier et al., La basilique paléochrétienne du Clos de la Lombarde à Narbonne: cadre archéologique, vestiges et mobiliers (Revue archéologique de Narbonnaise. Suppléments 23) (Paris 1991). These were contextually dated by ceramics to the second half of the 4th c. to the first decades of the 5th c. by a large plate in Hayes 59A [ca. 320–380/400 LRP] and some “céramiques grises à décor estampé” [not checked]. The latter ceramics are described in an inventory, with the detail that they came from the occupation layer (“niveau de l’habitat”): p. 31 with n. 136. However, a more recent excavation report has shown that the total blocking of a street (Rue A), first by a house, began in the 2nd c., and was then followed by artisanal structures, which did not date past the middle of the 3rd c.: M. and R. Sabrié, “L’espace public: rues A et C”, in Le Clos de la Lombarde à Narbonne. Espaces publics et privés du secteur nord-est, edd. M. and R. Sabrié (Archéologie et Histoire Romaine 12) (Montagnac 2004) (23–50) 36 with 35 fig. 22 and idem in the same volume “Espace privé: l’habitat, l’artisanat”, (51–125) 59–61. The destruction levels of House 4, which encroaches on Rue C, have abundant late 2nd and early 3rd c. ceramics: p. 62. The same street was blocked by baths of House 6, of which room C has a piece of African cooking ware of Hayes 23B [100–400 Bon] in its concrete floor, thus dating the construction of this and the adjacent rooms, whilst ceramic evidence situates the abandonment of the house in the first half of the 3rd c.: pp. 107–108. A fullonica was subsequently built on the site of this street, after the houses were abandoned, before 4th c. robbing of construction materials: pp. 122–25. 06ITS Ostia (7 examples): (A) Public buildings blocking roads from the 2nd c.: (1) A side street near the Porta Romana was blocked by a structure. It is dated to the time of Hadrian (only on the basis of its opus mixtum [looks to be panelled opus mixtum in photos], which is found in great quantities elsewhere in dated buildings of this period on site). The building now houses the ‘Mitreo presso Porta Romana’: G. Calza

113

et al., Topografia generale (Scavi di Ostia 1) (Rome 1953) 235, with http://www.ostia-antica.org/regio2/2/2-5.htm(last accessed July 2015), which has a photo. (2) An east-west street running north of the Forum Baths was partially blocked by a furnace or stairway, that underlies or (better) is part of the first phase of the same baths: L. Lavan site observation 2012. The Forum Baths are dated by building inscriptions and a stamp on a lead pipe, which name their patron Gavius Maximus, who was praetorian prefect in 138/139–158/159, as well as by brickstamps mainly of the 150s: see P. Cicerchia and A. Marinucci, Scavi di Ostia. XI. Le terme del foro o di Gavio Massimo (Roma 1992) esp. 22, esp. 216–19 (C106), 220–221 (C107bis), 222 (C109a, a lead pipe from outside of room 1, in the palaestra), 232–49 (brickstamps), with plan on table 1a of first phase, with a ‘furnace’ being under rooms 12 or 14. (3) An east-west side street, on the south side of the Tempio Rotondo, was encroached by the latter, as part of its primary construction. This temple is dated to the earlier to mid-3rd c. on account of: (i) its flamboyant plan; (ii) its brick thickness and colour (red in lower levels), which are not seen in ‘early to mid-imperial’ constructions; (iii) a dedication within (after construction) of a statue to the wife of Gordian III (Sabinia Tranquillina); (iv) colossal statuary found within, carved in a Severan style: see A.-K. Rieger, Heiligtümer in Ostia (Munich 2004) 180–83, with references also to discussions of the building’s ornament. (4) A north-south side street, east of the small baths under the Foro della statua eroica, was narrowed by a secondary apse from the same baths. The apse is certainly 2nd c. or later, as it was not part of the ‘Hadrianic’ baths built at the Domitianic street level, which must have been built before the adjacent large Antonine Forum Baths. The apse also predates the third quarter of the 3rd c., when it was demolished by the first phase of the Foro della statua eroica. It is claimed as Severan by its excavator, A. Marinucci pers. comm., for reasons unknown, although obviously it was later than the original design of the small baths, laid out at the ‘Domitianic’ level: L. Lavan, “Public space in late antique Ostia: excavation and survey in 2008–2011”, AJA 116.4 (2012) 668–71 (649–91). (5) The Hadrianic arch of the Cardo coming into Forum was blocked with an opus latericium wall: Lavan (2012) 651 with nn. 8–9 on pp. 656–64. The date of the blocking must date after the early 2nd c. date of the arch, established especially by CIL 14.375 and 14.353. It must also date to after, or at the same time as, a raising of the south-east corner of the forum (and likely the adjacent Cardo), after the deposition of context 5046; this is dated to the third quarter of the 3rd c. (AD 249–74) based on ceramics and coins (see appendix C8). However, it must date before the development

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APPENDIX 1: A7a Minor Streets Encroached before End of 3rd C.

of the palaestra mosaic floor. This seems to be in the 25 years after AD 287.5, based on a ceramic context dating to ca. 300 (5300 + 5301), which likely made up its foundation, and on the general archaeology of the palaestra (see appendix K2a). The arch blocking clearly predates this palaestra mosaic level, as its rough foundations begin below this level, at the level of a new basalt Cardo surface that has the same height as it. However, because both of the ceramic contexts cited here were open contexts, from which stratigraphy above has been lost, and because the palaestra context is some distance from the arch, I would also like to cite other forms of evidence which suggests the same date: (i) There were some reused bricks in this blocking, which suggests a date from the mid-3rd c. onwards, when we can attest to the reuse of bricks on a significant scale in the Rome area, though normally with good selection: T.L. Heres, Paries. A Proposal for a Dating System of Late-Antique Masonry Structures in Rome and Ostia, AD 235–600 (Amsterdam 1982) 34, 86, 92. (ii) There was also a tufa levelling course, which is seen within the opus latericium walls of phase 1a of the Foro della statua eroica of the third quarter of the 3rd c., and also in similar masonry in a building on the edge of the Temple of Hercules enclosure, built at a higher level, which our excavations have shown to be likely to be after the mid-3rd c. This date is based on fill deposits associated with the foundation levels of a building that encroaches on the original paving of the temple plaza at a lower level, which produced a sestertius of Gordian III (AD 240–44), a coin of early to mid-3rd c. date (in context 17001), and ceramics amphora Gauloise 4 [50–300 RADR, though I defer to the ceramicists] and dish / lid Hayes 196A [A 150?–250? Bon], which together suggested to the ceramicist the 3rd c. for the deposit of 5 diagnostic sherds (in context 16010): D. Holman, “The coins” and E. Vacarro and S. Costa, “The pottery”, in Public Space in Late Antique Ostia, vol. 1 ed. L. Lavan (London forthcoming). Overall, a date in the third quarter of the 3rd c. seems reasonable, especially considering the associated contextual evidence. (B) Extension of shops on roadway, Early Imperial: (1) Insula 2.9.5 (north-south street): Two shops extend onto roadway or sidewalk in opus testaceum (J. Schoevaert, Les boutiques d’Ostie du Ier s. av. J.-C. au Ve s. ap. J.-C. L’économie urbaine au quotidien, vol. 2 (Ph.D. diss., Univ. of Paris 7, 2013) vol. 2 Catalogues, 152–53. (2) Insula 5.9.2 (north-south street, south of the Tempio Collegiale): Six shops extend onto roadway in opus testaceum, sometime before the ‘Tempio Collegiale’ is built to the deified Pertinax, in AD 194 (Schoevaert (2013) vol. 2 Catalogues, 357–58). (C) Discounted (as encroaching major roads):

(1) Insula 1.1.4 (Decumanus, by the east gate of Castrum): Two shops extend onto the roadway in walls of banded opus mixtum. (2) Insula 3.10.3 (Via della Foce opposite Tempio dei Mensores): The roadway is partially encroached by rooms that have opus testaceum on the outside, but ‘banded opus mixtum’ for internal dividing walls: Schoevaert (2013) vol. 2, 221–22 with plan on 221 providing this detail, though the text does not. The use of ‘banded opus mixtum’ [known as opus vittatum to others] suggests to Schoevaert a date after the middle of the 3rd c.: pp. 143 and 85. However, Schoevaert does not explain his reasoning, which is not substantiated except with a reference to Heres, who is equally vague: Schoevaert (2013) vol. 2 Catalogues, 6–7, with 143 and 85 citing T.L. Heres, Paries. A Proposal for a Dating System of Late-Antique Masonry Structures in Rome and Ostia, AD 235–600 (Amsterdam 1982) 29, neither of whom provides a demonstration of the date. Undated. (D) Discounted (as extension of shops onto roadway): (1) Insula 2.1.1 (north-south roadway by the Porta Romana): The north-south roadway was encroached by short walls. It is not very clear what sort of structure these walls belong to: Schoevaert (2013) Catalogues, 123–24. The walls are in banded opus mixtum, which is not dated, as explained above. Undated. 06ITS Pompeii: A road south-west of the forum was blocked by the extension of the Sanctuary of Apollo, in a development currently believed to have occurred around 30 BC, the details of which I do not want to go into here, but must in all cases be before AD 79: D.J. Newsome (2009) “Traffic, space and legal change around the Casa del Marinaio at Pompeii (VII 15.1–2)”, BABesch 84 (2009) 121–42. 06ITS Paestum (three examples): Public buildings blocking roads in the case of: (1) The Lararium of the Forum, which is fronted by an altar of the late 2nd to early 3rd c.: E. Greco, I. D’Ambrosio and D. Theodorescu, Guida archeologica e storica agli scavi, al museo ed alle antichità di Poseidonia / Paestum (Taranto 1996) 61–62. (2) The Caesareum, which was built sometime after AD 79 on account of material from the eruption of Vesuvius in previous levels: Greco et al. (1996) 61. (3) The Forum Baths, dated to the 3rd c., based on an inscription describing building work of a father (M. Tullius Cicero Venneianus), who built the baths from the ground up, and his son, who rebuilt them: Greco et al. (1996) 86– 87, 147; AE (1935) 28 = M. Mello and G. Voza, Le inscrizioni latine di Paestum (Naples 1968) no. 100 (not seen) = G. Fagan Bathing in Public in the Roman World (Ann Arbor 1999) 266–67, inscription no. 108. This inscription is dated to the early to middle part of the 3rd c., because a man mentioned in it (overseeing the works) is known from

APPENDIX 1: A7a Minor Streets Encroached before End of 3rd C. another inscription of Paestum dated to 245 (by the consuls named). 06ITS Grumentum: An apse of a 1st or 2nd c. bath encroaches onto street (Decumanus inferior), reducing its width by about 40%: L. Lavan site observation April 2016. Undated. 07AFR Carthage (2nd–4th c.) (three examples): (1) and (2): Cardines 12W and 13W saw their width reduced by the construction of an Antonine public building, as detected by the German excavations of Rue Ibn Chabaat. Cardo 12W was reduced by ca. 2 m and Cardo 13W by ca. 1 m, if we use perceived symmetry in the plan form of the building to reconstruct the second measurement: F. Rakob, “Forschungen im Stadtzentrum von Karthago, zweiter Vorbericht”, RömMitt 102 (1995) (413–61) 440–447 esp. 447 with 442 fig. 9 and 446 fig. 12. The dating of the public building (p. 447) is not explained in full, but it seems to depend on the fact that fragments of wall plaster in the third Pompeian style were found in the fill underneath it, relating to the demolition of the previous buildings on the site. Evidence of a fire catastrophe is seen here prior to the new building, which might be the same as that seen elsewhere in the forum area, relating to the decade of the 140s: P. Gros, Byrsa, 3. Rapport sur les campagnes de fouilles de 1977 à 1980. La basilique orientale et ses abords (CEFR 41) (Rome 1985) 141ff (not seen). This encroachment is site no. 7 of H. Broise, “L’Évolution des insulae des maisons du cryptoportique et de la rotonde dans le contexte urbain”, in Carthage, colline de l’Odéon. Maisons de la rotonde et du cryptoportique (Recherches 1987–2000), vol. 2, edd. C. Balmelle, A. Bourgeois, H. Broise, J.-P. Darmon, and M. Ennaïfer (CEFR 457) (Rome 2012) (333–59) 345 fig. 384 site no. 7, with p. 348 (who notes a reduction of only 1.2 m on the cardo). (3) Decumanus 5N and Cardo 2W, on the edge of the city, were encroached at the end of the 5th c., according to the Italian excavations (site 1B). This encroachment is associated with street surfaces of ‘battuto’, which have produced unspecified material not datable later than the beginning of the 6th c. But here ‘wall 188’ (not obviously part of a public structure) invades the street space already in period IV, a period that is tentatively dated, from the layers above and below, to ca. 200 to 320 AD (dating indicators not provided): A. Carandini, L. Anselmino, C. Panella, C. Pavolini and R. Caciagli, “Gli scavi italiani a Cartagine: rapporto preliminare delle campagne 1973–1977”, QAL 13 (1983) (7–61) 26–27. This encroachment might fall within our period, but for the moment I include it here, given the wide date range. 13ASI Priene: A road junction is encumbered by steps relating to the propylon of the Sanctuary of Athena (surrounding a temple of the 4th c. BC). The propylon, which was never completed, is dated to the turn of the Hellenistic to the Early Imperial period, based on building ornament:

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F. Rumscheid, Priene: a Guide to the “Pompeii of Asia Minor” (Istanbul 1998) 112–14. It is also dated by the use of inscribed blocks of the 2nd c. BC in its foundations and the use of lime mortar apparently associated with Roman buildings: http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/artifact? name=Priene,+Propylon+of+Athena+Sanctuary&object =building (last accessed July 2015), which provides a bibliography. For the Athena Temple itself, see http://www .perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/artifact?name=Priene%2c+Tem ple+of+Athena&object=Building (last accessed July 2015). I have only accessed synthetic publications here. 13ASI Patara (in Lycia): An east-west street, running south of the Baths, is narrowed by a secondary apse of the latter structure. This apse has been dated to the 3rd c. AD: F. Alanyalı, “Patara Hurmalik Hamami 2005–2008 yili arkeoloji ve belegeleme çalişmalarina genel bir bakiş”, in Kültür Varlikarinin Belegelenmesi, edd. A. Çabuk and F. Alanyalı (Eskişehir 2009) (117–43) 120–27, with pp. 137–38: a sondage south of the exedra of the frigidarium to establish the sequence of the exedra, the subsequent shops and the rearrangement of the street. Of dating, a coin dated AD 337–61 was found in a deposit covering a water conduit of terracotta pipes, which continued underneath the slabs of the street, in which 3rd to 4th c. ceramics were also found (shown on p. 138, fig. 36). As the excavators state, these finds suggest a 4th c. [contextual] date, which I would push to mid to later 4th c. based on 25 years after the start date of the coin—i.e. 337–62, midpoint 349.5, for the rearrangement of the street and the construction of the shops, a date that is also likely based on their shared level, orientation, and also the fact that the pipe seems to serve as a down drain for the shops, coming from the northernmost end of them. The exedra, against which the shops lean, must date to before this moment, but overlies a layer with 2nd to 3rd c. ceramics (p. 138, fig. 36). Some confirmation for a 4th c. or earlier construction date for the exedra is the fact that the piscina inside it was already filled in by the first of a sequence of beaten earth floors established during the first half of the 5th c., likely based on unspecified ceramics, which are much in evidence in this report (p. 125). I thank P. Talloen for assistance with the Turkish of this report. Dating summary (for the apse of the Baths): range 200– 362, midpoint 281, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs7 (TPQ contextual coin), publication 2/3 (for the pottery, the labels of which are sadly printed too small to identify the well-illustrated wares), 3/3 (for the coin). See also (appendix K2a): 06ITS Scolacium: (i) the road running north-west / south-east, behind the portico, was encroached twice by buildings facing onto the adjacent forum. A rectangular room, giving off the north-east portico, perhaps a curia, was given an exedra [a square apse]. This exedra encroached onto the street behind, as did an

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APPENDIX 1: A7b Minor Streets Encroached by Public Buildings in Late Antiquity

apse of an adjacent ‘civil basilica’ built as part of the same phase. This phase is believed to date from within the period 250–300.

A7b Minor Streets Encroached by Public Buildings in Late Antiquity

06ITS Ostia (Foro della statua eroica): An east-west minor street was blocked in the area of the Foro della statua eroica. It was first blocked (completely) by the ‘Constantinian’ apse of the Forum Baths (which must be after AD 306) and was then obliterated entirely by phase 1b of the Foro. N.B. Project North is taken as being at 90 degrees to the orientation of the Decumanus [aligned east-west], some 60 degrees off magnetic north. The ‘Constantian’ apse of the Forum Baths is dated by Maxentian / Constantinian brickstamps. These provide a TPQ of 306, but it is possible that the apse is a little later than Maxentian: see P. Cicerchia and A. Marinucci, Scavi di Ostia. XI. Le terme del foro o di Gavio Massimo (Roma 1992) 234 nos. D6–8 with bibliography = CIL 15.1613 (for brickstamps). For the apse, see also Cicerchia and Marinucci (1992) 72. Fragmentary inscriptions of Fl. Octavius Victor from inside the baths also suggest a Constantinian period of works, which might include the apse, although the evidence is not definitive. For the inscriptions, see firstly (for the Latin inscription) Cicerchia and Marinucci (1992) 216 no. C105 = F. Zevi “Miscellanea Ostiense I. La carriera di Gavio Massimo e i restauri tardi alle Terme del Foro”, Rend. Linc 26 (1971) (449–67) 466–67, plate 1.3 and see secondly (for the Greek inscription) Cicerchia and Marinucci (1992) 219–220 no. C107 = Zevi (1971) 467 n. 49 with plate 1.2 = CIG 6182 = IG 14 1073b = 7100b. PLRE 1.638 Fl. Octavius was a praefectus annonae, whom Cicerchia and Marinucci (1992) p. 216 situate after 326, due to his rank as vir clarissimus; this office was reserved for them after 326. I do not know why they also place the works after 331. For the identification of Fl. Octavius as vir clarrisimus and praefectus annonae, see two other inscriptions, one found near the Great Horrea (CIL 14.4714) and another found in the Horrea of Artemis: Zevi (1971) 466–67, n. 47 (with find-spots coming from Cicerchia and Marinucci). A further inscription from the Vatican Museum, of unknown provenance, refers to baths and to the name Maximus, so may come from these ‘Baths of Gavius Maximus’ (the name of the Forum Baths in inscriptions): Cicerchia and Marinucci (1992) 220 C107bis = CIL 6.29769 = Zevi 467 n. 49 with p. 450 = EDR079256. The use of the phrase divinae mentis ductu in this Vatican inscription recalls the phrase instinctu divinitatis of the Arch of Constantine, as noted by R. Meiggs, Roman Ostia (1960) 475 and Zevi (1971) 465–67. It is perhaps this that has encouraged the inscriptions from Ostia to be ascribed to the Constantinian period. Overall, I am prepared to accept a TPQ for the apse of 326, accepting that it is part of

wider Constantinian renewal of the baths, and a TAQ of the end of the dating range of the phase 1b of the adjacent Foro which covers it, which is 375. Phase 1b of the Foro della statua eroica can be more securely dated, to the 3rd quarter of the 4th c., thanks to a rubbish deposit with contextual ceramics from under a portico floor. The rubbish deposit (context 4049), for which see appendix W1, contains notably Hayes 181D (given as mid-4th to mid-5th c.) [181, production B, type D is 350–450 Bon]. Overall, it has to be admitted that our date for the Foro phase 1b best rests on the ceramics of context 4049. The Hayes 181D, as the last piece of dating evidence, suggests a date for the construction of phase 1b of the Foro in the 3rd quarter of the 4th c., under the rules of this study, although the ceramics report proposes a date of “the 4th c., possibly the second half” for the deposition of this layer. We can also note that coins, from the fill layers of the 1b paving, stop with issues of Maxentius (reigned AD 306–12) and Constantine (reigned here AD 312–337): A. Gering, “Das Stadtzentrum von Ostia in der Spätantike. Vorbericht zu den Ausgrabungen 2008–2011 mit Beiträgen von Lena Kaumanns und Luke Lavan”, RömMitt 117 (2011) (409–509) (416–60) 500. Dating summary (for the blocking of the road by the apse): range 326–75, midpoint 350.5, class Cs7 (TPQ inscription), Cs3 (associative, phase of development), Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3. Dating summary (for phase 1b of the Foro della statua eroica, covering over the street completely): range 350–75, midpoint 362.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs8 (contextual coins), Cs7 (TPQ brickstamp), Cs3 (associative inscriptions), publication 3/3. 06ITS Ostia (‘Terme Piccole’): The baths were established blocking a north-south side street, leading away from the Via della Foce. The baths extended over collapse debris, which contained a terra sigillata lamp of Hayes Type 1. This was initially thought to give a TPQ for the construction of the baths of 325/50, depending on the opinions of Pavolini or Bailey, which I will not discuss here: A. Gering, “Plätze und Straßensperren an Promenaden. Zum Funktionswandel Ostias in der Spätantike”, RömMitt 111 (2004) (299–381) 356. More recent excavations by Gering in 2004–2005 revealed a coin of Valens from the make-up layers of the baths and unspecified later 4th c. pottery: A. Gering, “Ruins, rubbish dumps and encroachment: resurveying late antique Ostia”, in Field Methods and Post-Excavation Techniques in Late Antique Archaeology (Late Antique Archaeology 9), edd. L. Lavan and M. Mulryan (Leiden-Boston 2013) (249–88) 276–86, 283 (for coin of Valens AD 364–78), with p. 277 noting that alongside the Hayes 1 lamp [300–500 LRP] were found “ceramics which date from the middle of the 4th c. onwards”. This provides a contextual date for the construction of the baths in the later 4th c. (so 364–400): p. 277.

APPENDIX 1: A7b Minor Streets Encroached by Public Buildings in Late Antiquity Dating summary (of the baths blocking the street): range 364–400, midpoint 382, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs7 (TPQ coin), publication 2/3. Other encroachments at Ostia are presented by Gering (2004) fig. 49, not usually involving public buildings, but a large number of these relate to roads going north of the Decumanus, which seem to relate to the abandonment of this area in Late Antiquity, not to a change in the use of streets within the continued evolution of the city. For this reason, I have not considered them in detail. See also blocking of the Semita Hor(reorum). 07AFR Carthage: (2) (Cardo 1E and Decumanus 1N intersection): A vestibule, established in phase 2 of a baths complex, blocks one third of the width of Decumanus 1N and its intersection with Cardo 1E: C.G. Hansen, Carthage. Results of the Swedish Excavations 1979–1983, vol. 1: A Roman Bath in Carthage (Stockholm 2002) 116–17. There are two strands of argument that allow us to date this development. (i) Phase 2 of the baths is defined by the use of a specific grey mortar. This can provide us with a catch-all masonry date, as it is comparable to that used in the ‘Theodosian Wall’, which was constructed in AD 425 according to the Gallic Chronicle of 452 98 (AD 425) (MGH AA 9.658). This dating for the Theodosian Wall has been confirmed by various recent excavations, including coin finds: see appendix B7. (ii) The vestibule of the baths has a mosaic with acanthus scrolls, which most strongly resemble those excavated by the Michigan team, just east of the Byrsa. The latter mosaic is contextually dated to the late 4th c. AD on finds beneath the floor: Hansen (2002) 116–17 with appendix A8b. The contextual date for the Michigan mosaic is the 25 year period beginning in 375, under the rules of this study, based on the start date of the last find (a coin, although there are many late ceramics with it). Overall, the dating is relatively weak, as it rests on artistic style, which suggests a date in 375–400 and a catch-all masonry theory which suggests 425. In each case we only have one parallel, so I place the date for the vestibule between these two limits, as a poor date. The baths vestibule site is site no. 5 of H. Broise, “L’Évolution des insulae des maisons du cryptoportique et de la rotonde dans le contexte urbain”, in Carthage, colline de l’Odéon. Maisons de la rotonde et du cryptoportique (Recherches 1987–2000), vol. 2, edd. C. Balmelle, A. Bourgeois, H. Broise, J.-P. Darmon, and M. Ennaïfer (CEFR 457) (Rome 2012) (333–59) 345 fig. 384 no. 5 with p. 347. Dating summary: range 375–425, midpoint 400, class Cs5 (catch-all masonry), Cs1 (artistic style), publication 1/3. Poor. 15ORI Apamea (Main north-south colonnaded street / Cardo) (2): The Cardo was completely blocked next to the Atrium Church. Here, three east-west steps were built over the

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north-south cardo, at a point where it was crossed by an east-west street: J. and J.-Ch Balty, “Le cadre topographique et historique”, in Apamée de Syrie. Bilan des recherches archéologiques, 1965–1968: actes du colloque tenu à Bruxelles les 29 et 30 Avril 1969, ed. J. Balty (Brussels 1969) (29–46) 41. The resulting arrangement pedestrianised the north-south street, although with the east-west axis still open to traffic. Another such blocking was located on the Cardo north of the tychaion, and seems likely to be part of the same development. This would have created a series of rectangular plazas, in the Cardo, in place of the previously unified avenue. According to Balty and Balty, this was part of the same building phase as the pedestrian sidewalks, which occurred contemporaneously with the installation of a rich marble pavement in the portico, and the laying of new road paving. It is, however, difficult to reconcile a comprehensive pedestrianisation of the Cardo with the building of sidewalks on the north-south street, which usually occur in the presence of wheeled traffic indicated by wheel ruts. The marble pavement of the main street can be dated to after AD 469 because it covers an earlier mosaic floor, dated by a mosaic inscription of this year, whilst the road paving itself is dated contextually to the 25 years around AD 500 by ceramics from the layer beneath the slabs: see appendices C3 (for the sondage under the roadway) and C6a (for the mosaic). I am sceptical that the east-west blocking of the Cardo really does belong in the same phase as the sidewalks and mosaics [I guess it might be later], but in the absence of a detailed report I will defer to the phasing offered by Balty. Dating summary: range 487.5–512.5, midpoint 500, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3. 16AEG Ptolemais (3): A number of blockhouses [i.e. lightly fortified buildings] were constructed within the city (of which 10 have been observed): C.H. Kraeling, Ptolemais: City of the Libyan Pentapolis (Chicago 1962) 97–107. These new structures block streets in three cases (building 23, blocking a north-south street, building 3, blocking a northsouth street, and building 4, blocking two north-south streets and one east-west street). This is an important development, as the city had seen restorations to its colonnaded street plus building work on arches and tetrastyla, partly within the 4th c. (see appendices C3, F2, F7a, F7b). A TPQ for the blockhouses can be obtained by relating them to a wider urban change: the abandonment of the city’s fortification as an effective line of defence. For Kraeling, the block-houses must date to after AD 405, because, at this date, the outer fortification is believed to have still been in use in a siege, as recorded by Synesius in AD 405. The siege is described in Syn. Ep. 130, 132, 133 (FitzGerald edn. numbering, who records 75, 74, 73 as alternate numbering, whilst Garzya (1989) uses numbers

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130, 132, 133). The dating of the siege comes from letter 133 / 73, which refers to another (recent) letter, which had arrived during the consulship of Aristaenetus (i.e. AD 404). A TAQ for the construction of the largest blockhouse (building 23) is provided by an inscription of Anastasius of AD 491/93 or 506/507 carved on its façade. This building thus dates from 405–507, which is a reasonable associative date to give to the other blockhouses, which Kraeling points out are of quadratic form (except in one case) and are built of the same masonry of relatively rough and coarse construction as the forts. They stand out high above the ruins of the rest of the city, as masonry and rubble masses. On the inscription, see G. Oliverio, Documenti antichi dell Africa Italiana (Bergamo 1932–36) 2.2. 135–60, nos. 139–40; SEG 9.68–70 no. 356. See also the analysis of D. Feissel, “Une constitution d’Anastase 1er (495–518) sur l’administration militaire des duchés d’Orient: l’exemplaire de Qasr el-Hallabat”, BAntFr (1992) 213–15; D. Feissel, “Un fragment palestinien de la constitution d’Anastase sur l’administration militaire du diocèse d’Orient”, ZPE 173 (2010) 125–29, who dates the law to AD 491/93 or 506/507 (indiction year 15). Restoration of aqueduct under Justinian: Procop. Aed. 6.2.11. Dating summary: range 405–507, midpoint 456, class x (historical text), Cs6 (TAQ inscription), z (site development), publication 3/3. See also (appendix D2): 06ITS Ostia: Halfway down the Decumanus, a plaza was established on the north side, with walls built to block a north-south street leading north. A. Gering, pers. comm., noticed this plaza was built over the site of a nymphaeum at Regio II.IX.1, http://www.06ITS Ostia -antica.org/regio2/9/9-1.htm, at the ancient ‘junction site’ of the Decumanus with the Sia dei Grandi Horrea. This plaza is dated by its association with an immediately adjacent late portico, which is also set at the higher Decumanus level, that is dated to 385–89, based on its association with a statue base of this date, which provides a more convincing date than the wider levelling date for the whole Eastern Decumanus, of 346–89. See also (appendix H1, discounted section): 07AFR Thamugadi (Timgad) (southern Cardo Maximus): A small nymphaeum blocks a side street, and thus it is assumed to date to the late antique period. See also (appendix H6): 07AFR Cuicul (Djémila) (Cardo): A street fountain blocked a side street. It is dated to sometime before AD 295, because of an inscription; 16AEG Ptolemais (Decumanus / Street of the Monuments) (2): Two street fountains blocked traffic to side streets leading off the Street of the Monuments. They are not dated. See also (appendix X1b): 10MAC Philippi: An apse, added to the ‘civil basilica’ on the west side of the agora, blocks a minor street that runs behind it, sometime in the period between 284 and 616.

See also (appendix X2): 06ITS Ostia (Exedra / Sigma Plaza): The north-south road known as the Semita Horreorum is entirely blocked by the Exedra / Sigma Plaza (set + ca. 20 cm above the height of the 2nd c. street), dating from between 346 and 450, probably between 385–89. 10MAC Philippi: The Sigma Plaza cuts through the line of two side streets, predicted within the street grid and partially confirmed by the geophysical plot; it also reduces the width of the Via Egnatia by 2.7 m to 5.2 m. It is only dated generically to within the period 250–616. Discounted: 02HIS Complutum (Alcalá de Henares): A road south of the forum was blocked by a new small bath building. A TPQ can be obtained from the general presence of many ceramics (indicating a date after the middle of the 3rd c.) and the date of the adjacent market, fill layers of which have produced unspecified ceramics of the first half of the 3rd c. These small baths replaced the large baths to their south, that were given up as part of the phase 2 of the forum (administrative complex including the basilica), especially because demolition material from the adjacent north baths was found in the fill of the second market: annexe to unpublished draft of S. Rascón Marqués and A.L. Sánchez Montes, “La basílica y los edificios administrativos del foro de la ciudad romana de Complutum. De los edificios de época de Claudio a la monumentalización urbana de los siglos III, IV y V”, Anales de Arqueología Cordobesa 20 (2009) 175–20 (with thanks to the authors), plus 194 (of the published text) noting that no clearly 4th c. material came from the second market levels. For a summary, see S. Rascón Marqués and A.L. Sánchez Montes, “Complutum: modelo urbanístico para una ciudad romana privilegiada en los siglos III–V d.C.”, in Urbanisme civique en temps de crise: les espaces publics d’Hispanie et de l’Occident romain entre le IIe et le IV e siècle, Casa de Velasquez, edd. A. Quevedo and L. Brassous (Madrid 2015) (199–220) 206–207. For the dating of phase 2 of the basilica, with ceramics of the second half of the 3rd c. from a drain blocked by it, and with a piece of the 3rd quarter of the 3rd c. from the floor make up, see appendix X1a. This associative (phase of development) evidence from the basilica provides the best dating for the small baths, of the 25 year period following 250. Dating summary: range 250–275, midpoint 262.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs3 (associative, phase of development), publication 2/3. 06ITS Ostia (Foro della statua eroica): A north-south minor road was obliterated in phase 1a of the Foro della statua eroica, which was built in the third quarter of the 3rd c. (based on contextual ceramics from a large rubbish deposit 1017 of mid-3rd c. deposition date): see E. Vacarro and S. Costa, “The pottery”, in Public Space in Late Antique Ostia, vol. 1, ed. L. Lavan (London forthcoming), which I will not inventory here: see appendix W1.

APPENDIX 1: A7c Minor Streets Encroached by Other / Unspecified Structures Dating summary: range 250–75, midpoint 262.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 2/3.

A7c Minor Streets Encroached by Other / Unspecified Structures

01BRI Cirencester (Corinium): The street running northeast / south-west on the south side of the forum and basilica, was closed by a wall built on the roadway. The excavator, J.S. Wacher, reported that existing rooms on the north side were turned around, creating a possible new plaza in the last phase of building on site: J.S. Wacher, “Excavations at Cirencester”, AntJ 42 (1962) 1–14. However, the final report seems to offer no support for the notion that the cellular rooms on the north-east side were turned around, showing only that one door (facing north) in this row of rooms was blocked, and that its arcades (facing to the south onto the street) may also have been blocked: N. Holbrook and J. Timby, “The basilica and forum”, in Cirencester Excavations V: Roman Town Defences, Public Buildings and Shops, ed. N. Holbrook (Cirencester 1998) (99–121) 108–11, including p. 102 fig. 61 and p. 110 fig. 71. The final report describes only a wall that blocks the street, revealed in two trenches, possibly contemporaneous with the demolition of the external portico that faces from the basilica insula onto this side street. The blocking wall across the street was investigated in two trenches that can be described as follows: (i) In trench ADIV / ADXIII, the wall was composed of irregular stone footings, cut into the road surface. It was associated on the south-east side with a cobble and clay surface (ADVI9 / ADXIII5) that “was level with the top of the foundation offset”. A gap between the wall and the former portico stylobate was filled with silt (ADVI25 / ADXIII6). (ii) In trench AEVI, the wall was built after deposit AEVI 8 [containing a coin of the House of Constantine of 350–60], which was followed by cobble surface AEVI6 (which possibly equals ADVI9 / ADXIII5), then loam and charcoal layer AEVI7. The wall was built at the same level as this layer and was composed of un-mortared stone and tile (here AEVI4). It contained a coin of the House of Constantine of 350– 60 and of Gratian of 367–75. The wall was then covered by green silt AEVI3, followed by demolition rubble AEVI2 [containing 6 later 4th c. coins, one mid-3rd c., the latest being of Theodosius 388–402, although Theodosius died in 395]: pp. 109–110. Overall, I take the coins found inside the wall (context AEVI4) as giving it a contextual date of 25 years from the start date of the last find, so 367–92. This seems reasonable given the associated dating evidence of the coins in other layers. Dating summary: range 367–92, midpoint 379.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs3 (associative, phase of development), publication 3/3.

119

07AFR Carthage (Decumanus 1N, by junction with Cardo 17E, Magon quarter): The south-west side had its length systematically reduced by ca. 1.1 m by a new façade wall, which has been dated to the Justinianic period: F. Rakob, “Forschungen im Stadtzentrum von Karthago, zweiter Vorbericht”, RömMitt 102 (1995) 78 and fig. 1. I was unable to determine the basis of the dating, for an excavation that only seems to have been published in preliminary form, unless I have missed it in F. Rakob ed., Karthago 1: Die deutschen Ausgrabungen in Karthago (Mainz 1991) with plan “Römische Bebauung”, showing the area excavated in sectors H5, H6 and H7. This encroachment is site no. 6 of H. Broise, “L’Évolution des insulae des maisons du cryptoportique et de la rotonde dans le contexte urbain”, in Carthage, colline de l’Odéon. Maisons de la rotonde et du cryptoportique (Recherches 1987–2000), vol. 2, edd. C. Balmelle, A. Bourgeois, H. Broise, J.-P. Darmon, and M. Ennaïfer (CEFR 457) (Rome 2012) (333–59) 345 fig. 384 no. 6, with p. 348, who considers this ‘Justinianic’ street width reduction to be part of a systematic street narrowing seen in the city from the 2nd c. onwards. I will provisionally accept the dating, given the quality of other German work by Rakob at Carthage, which generally bases dates at least on coins and careful attention to levels and masonry sequences. Dating summary (street narrowing by 1.1 m): range 533– 65, midpoint 549, class 0, publication 1/3. 07AFR Carthage (2 cases, here given asterisks, 2 possible not given asterisks): Street blockings were noted in rescue excavations described by S.P. Ellis, “Carthage Sewers Project”, in CEDAC Carthage 9 (1988) (9–38). They were discovered at: Cardo 11E / Decumanus 5–6S (Roman wall, located in 1986, p. 8); Cardo 12E / Decumanus 0–1S (Roman wall, p. 8); Cardo 13E / Decumanus 0–1S (perhaps site 9, no details discerned in report); Cardo 15E / Decumanus 0–1S (perhaps site 8, no details discerned in the report); *Cardo 15E / Decumanus 1–2N (site 11 pp. 28–31, a site covered by Vandal / Byzantine buildings, with a sewer of Cardo 15 east mentioned but not drawn); and *Cardo 17E / Decumanus 2–3N (Byzantine, seen on a house plot p. 8), which is perhaps described on p. 31 site 12, where a Byzantine colonnaded building blocking Cardo 17E is reported. A location map is given on p. 21 fig. 1 which allows one to try to locate these blockings in terms of his trench numbers, by using a plan of Carthage’s street grid in F. Rakob, “Forschungen im Stadtzentrum von Karthago, zweiter Vorbericht”, RömMitt 102 (1995) (413–61) 419 fig. 4. Of dating, Ellis does not specify what evidence is being used, so probably it is the height of the structure plus the type of masonry, given as: “rough walls with earth and poor mortar bonding”, alongside “earth floors and dense carbonate occupation”, accompanied by mosaics of “large tesserae in thin mortar bonding” with “complex though very

120

APPENDIX 1: A7c Minor Streets Encroached by Other / Unspecified Structures

similar geometric designs in black and white”. This type of “Byzantine occupation” was “very similar to that found on other Unesco sites”. Elsewhere, Ellis tentatively summarised these blockings as being in two cases as ‘Roman’ and four cases as ‘Byzantine’, which implies that the two uncertain cases above (Cardo 13E / Decumanus 0–1S and Cardo 15E / Decumanus 0–1S) also have ‘Byzantine’ blockings: S.P. Ellis, “Recent fieldwork in Tunisia”, Archaeological News 15.1–4 (1989) 31. The reliability of these observations is obviously low. They were made during ‘watching-briefs’ relating to the laying of sewer pipe trenches and other building activities, in which few rigorous stratigraphic observations or dating deductions could be made. Overall, both dates are ‘poor’, by the very nature of the recording, but also by the generic nature of the masonry dating observations, which are not tied to individual trenches. It is not clear how Vandal / Byzantine is distinguished from ‘Byzantine’, though one suspects there might have been some signs of accumulation of soil on the street in the latter case, which were not reported in the article. Dating summary (Cardo 15E / Decumanus 1–2N): range 439–698, midpoint 568.5, class Cs5 (catch-all masonry), publication 1. Poor. Dating summary (Cardo 17E / Decumanus 2–3N): range 534–698, midpoint 616, class Cs5 (catch-all masonry). Poor. 09DAC Pautalia: V. Katsarova, “Pautalia”, in Roman Cities in Bulgaria (Corpus of Ancient and Medieval Settlements in Modern Bulgaria 1), ed. R. Ivanov (Sofia 2012) (261–87) p. 280. From the time of Aurelian / Diocletian, construction activities began in the intervallum street. “Streets and roadways and pavements were narrowed in some places due to building activities”. The latest finds from city are coins of 570s from Hissarlaka hill, where there was a late fortress: p. 282. No footnote references are given for these remarks, so I am unable to check them up in the extensive bibliography, given the limited time I have. Dating summary: Pending. See also (appendix A9): 09DAC Serdica: There were encroachments on the intervallum, of existing buildings and new unspecified structures. This is believed to have occurred after the 4th c., probably based on the supposed Constantinian construction of the wall (which is undated, except that it is post-176). See also (appendix J3): 07AFR Carthage (Decumanus 1N, by junction with Cardo 17E, Magon quarter) (2 instances): Braces and buttresses were added within the period 412.5– 650, and then rooms were built over the street and a fire pit / oven was created within the period 650–98. Discounted: 02HIS Barcelona (Barcino) (Tram de Carrer 11 at 15 Carrer Avinyo and 4 Carrer Pou Dolc): The intervallum road alongside the fortification, on the centre-west side of the city, was narrowed by a room built out onto the road for

at least 4 m, extending beyond the limit of the excavation: N. Romani i Sala, Carrers i serveis viaris a les ciutats romanes del conventus tarraconensis (s. ii ac–vi dc): evolució i tècniques constructives (Tarragona 2012), http://www.tdx .cat/handle/10803/96884 (last accessed July 2014) p. 582, citing A. Vilardell, “Les restes romanes del carrer d’Avinyó dins l’urbanisme de Barcino”, Ex Novo 5 (2006a) 59–79. The main report is A. Vilardell, Memòria conjunta de la intervenció arqueològica del carrer Avinyó núm 15 I del carrer Pou Dolç núm 4 de Barcelona (Barcelona 2006b) (Codi M.H.C.B. 094–03). Juny 2003–Juny 2004, which is a report stored at the Direcció General del Patrimoni Cultural. Generalitat de Catalunya, but is now available on-line: http://cartaarqueologica.bcn.cat/Docs/216/2010_05_17_12_19_09_ Mem%C3%B2ria%20094-03.pdf (last accessed March 2015). A wall (which I believe is UE 20012), associated with a structure in fired clay, was built over the street within a road level (UE 14006), as shown on section sheet / plan 11 (p. 252 of the PDF). This road level dated according to the excavators by frequent finds to the mid-3rd c., above all by coins (a coin of Iulia Mamaea Augusta, so AD 222–35 and one of Annia Aurelia Galeria Lucilla, reigned 164–169), and ARS Hayes 31 given as 200–250 [200–300 Bon], Hayes 32 given as 200–250 [200–250? Bon], pâte claire engobée B4 given 250–400 [DCAMNO 250–400] and an African amphora Keay 4 [= Africana 2a 150–300 RADR + Bon], alongside a good number of earlier ARS fragments: Villardell (2006a) 64. UE 14006 is interpreted as a layer of use for the street on Villardell (2006b) 59–60, and 350 (context sheet) 787–803 for finds inventories. The sequence is illustrated on plans 9–12, which seem to show the wall as mostly robbed out along much of its length. Finds from the layer 14006 in the finds inventory at the end of Villardell (2006b) include not only the wares cited above, but also ARS Hayes 50B given as 350–400 [considered by E. Vaccaro pers. comm. to be 350–400 and by LRP to be 350–400+] plus an African lamp Atlante VIII, which is listed as 4th–5th c. in date [350–460 Bon total range with many subtypes]. These last two finds are probably responsible for Romani i Sala’s view that this encroachment wall is of the end of the 3rd c. to 4th c. in date, rather than the mid-3rd c. as given by Vilardell. However, whilst the road level 14006 was undoubtedly laid down from the mid-3rd c. onwards, it need not have been finished until the end of the 3rd to 4th c. Significantly, the wall 20012 is described on its context sheet as ‘supported by’ “Es recolza a” 14006 (rather than cutting it). This means that the wall was built within the layer, during its formation, and might well have been created long before the layer was complete. We can at least be certain that the layer below 14003, 14014 contained as its latest ceramic Hayes 31 given as 200–250 [200–300 Bon], giving a TPQ of 200. Overall, I feel that the latest ceramics could be intrusive, or trampled in after the wall was built, as they come from a

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121

road level that would have seen disturbance by traffic, not a sealed fill. Thus, we do not have a straightforward contextual date. I will take the TPQ as 200 and the TAQ as no later than 25 years after the start date of the last ceramic (excluding the two outliers) which gives us an upper limit of 275, to account for the circulation-life of this find. This is a somewhat unconventional, associative date, but appropriate for a continuously-formed road level. Dating summary: range 200–275, midpoint 237.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3. 07AFR Carthage: Cardo 3E on the first Canadian site (sondage E24) was apparently encroached by 1.65 m. This was initially believed to have happened in the 7th c., or at least sometime after the ‘Byzantine’ redevelopment of the circular monument. However, the circular monument has been redated to much later, the 8th c., by recent work, calling the stratigraphy into question, meaning that it will not be examined here: B. Caron and C. Lavoie, “Les recherches Canadiennes dans le quartier de la ‘rotonde de l’odéon’ à Carthage”, AnTard 10 (2002) 249–61. This encroachment is site no. 1 of H. Broise, “L’Évolution des insulae des maisons du cryptoportique et de la rotonde dans le contexte urbain”, in Carthage, colline de l’Odéon. Maisons de la rotonde et du cryptoportique (Recherches 1987–2000), vol. 2, edd. C. Balmelle, A. Bourgeois, H. Broise, J.-P. Darmon, and M. Ennaïfer (CEFR 457) (Rome 2012) (333–59) 345 fig. 384 site no. 1 with p. 346.

4th c., based on coins and pottery from floors, patches and installations. The pottery is mainly local, including “a range of orange to buff-slipped wheel-thrown wares, englobées tardives, imitating earlier Samian and African forms; up to 50% MNI by deposit of non-wheel-thrown culinary and table wares, and non-wheel made coarsewares”. The coins are mainly later 3rd and first half of the 4th c., with three from the second half of the 4th c., with examples extending down to those of Honorius (395–423). Given that the information provided is for the whole phase, not for specific contexts, we can only produce an associative / contextual phase date, not a pure contextual date at this stage: the date of the extension of the house onto the roadway must remain as sometime within the 4th c. Dating summary: range 300–400, midpoint 350, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs8 (coins contextual), Cs3 (associative, phase development), publication 2/3 and 3/3 (as not all materials published). 08PAN Celeia (street coming in from Poetovio): The street was encroached by houses in the 4th–5th c., with the road paving being removed and used for the foundations in some cases: I. Lazar “Celeia”, in The Autonomous Towns of Noricum and Pannonia: Noricum (Situla 40) edd. M.S. Kos and P. Scherrer (Ljubljana 2002) (71–101) 77–78 fig. 9, citing D. Pirkmajer “Celje—Ljubljanska u. Trg svobode, Savona u.”, Varstvo spomenikov 32 (1990) (170–71) 71 (not seen). Without seeing the publications it is difficult to know what status had the house that was encroaching, or what happened to the rest of the settlement at the same time. For this reason I have left this site out of the main text. Dating summary: range 250–500, midpoint 375, class Cs4 (reused material), Cs3 (associative, phase of development), publication 1/3 (without having seen the primary report). 16AEG Ptolemais (East Avenue) (2 examples, though one may be an artisanal establishment, not a house): Next to the tetrastylon, a building was constructed (labelled the “Northeast Quadrant”) that encroached not only onto the portico, but also onto the street itself: J.B. Ward-Perkins, J.H. Little and D.J. Mattingly, “Town houses at Ptolemais, Cyrenaica: a summary report of survey and excavation work in 1971, 1978–1979”, LibSt 17 (1986) (109–53) 144–48. The building (phase 2 of the site) was installed over a house (phase 1 of the site). The new building encroached onto the portico and the ‘East Avenue’ colonnaded street, whereas the house had respected the portico. The new building contained a number of plaster-lined tanks, suggesting that it was of an artisanal nature. The best dating evidence comes from within the walls of the new building. The structure does not respect the mosaics of the house, over which a layer of earthen fill, ca. 10 cm in depth, had accumulated before the construction of the later walls. This suggests an urban disjuncture between phases 1 and 2.

A8a Major Roads Encroached by Houses

02HIS Emerita (Mérida) (Cardo at Alcazaba): The cardo at the Alcazaba excavations was reduced in width during the Late Imperial period, apparently the 4th c. [implied in the text, although this ‘Late Imperial’ can mean the 3rd c. in Merida]. The street width declined from 5.6 m to 4.55 m because of the extension over the road of two structures: a room belonging to a bathing complex (a praefurnium) and a domestic structure: M. Alba Calzado, “Características del viario urbano de Emerita Augusta entre los siglos I y VIII”, Mérida. Excavaciones Arqueologícas 5 (1999) (397–424) 413. No more details are provided, on what seems to be an ongoing excavation. However, the chronology of recent excavations at Merida depends strongly on ceramics and coins recorded in stratigraphic layers. Thus, there is reason to have confidence in this date, even if it must remain pending, and currently unconfirmed, without the report. Dating summary: Pending. 04VIE Eauze (Elusa) (Cardo Maximus): A domus was built incorporating the street portico, which also extended onto the street surface itself : S. Esmonde Cleary, “A Late Roman house at Éauze (Cieutat), France”, in Housing in Late Antiquity, edd. L. Lavan, L. Özgenel and A. Sarantis (Late Antique Archaeology 3.2) (Leiden 2007) (417–23) 419, with 422, fig. 1. This phase of the house is dated to the

122 More significantly, a series of walls on the north side of the site, which includes a line of reused column bases, seems to be part of phase 2, though it is not conjoining with it. This gives us a TPQ of the mid-3rd c., due to the presence of reused building material, although it probably is much later than that. The absence of a TAQ makes the complex ‘undated’. A later phase (phase 3) of the same complex saw the construction of a triconch hall, which is usually interpreted as a domestic feature (as dining hall for three sigma couches). This phase encroached onto the site of the porticoes of the Street of the Monuments, as well as that of the East Avenue. The triconch was built partly of roughly-coursed masonry, partly of reused blocks and contains a reused Kufic inscription as a paving slab, which suggests a date sometime after AD 642, the time of the Islamic conquest of Pentapolis. This provides a TPQ for phase 3. Quite when after this the triconch belongs is uncertain. The TAQ should likely be placed before the invasions of the Beni Hilal ca. 1000, and subsequent tribes, which devastated the region. A final phase of rooms (phase 4) saw roughly-constructed walls built encroaching onto the adjacent Street of the Monuments (onto the site of the portico only on detailed plan fig. 20, although onto the roadway also on fig. 1). The dating of this phase is very difficult. The cellular character of the rooms, which in some ways reflects late antique shops, despite not being as well-ordered or respectful of the roadway, makes one want to keep it prior to the disruption of the Beni Hilal, but this is quite an arbitrary judgment, again based on ignorance of medieval urban development in this region. Dating summary (phase 2): range of 250–1000, midpoint 625, class Cs4 (reused material), x (historical text), publication 1/3, Undated. Dating summary (phase 3): range 642–1000, midpoint 821, class Cs7 (TPQ reused inscription), x (historical text), publication 1/3, Poor.

A8b Minor Roads Encroached by Houses

02HIS Barcelona (Barcino): A cardo (Tram de Carrer 1) is encroached by two rooms projecting out into the street from the domus de Bisbe Caçador: the frigidarium room of domestic baths and a flanking room built 3 m out. The cardo had already been cut by the Augustan and Late Antique fortification line: N. Romani i Sala, Carrers i serveis viaris a les ciutats romanes del conventus tarraconensis (s. ii ac— vi dc): evolució i tècniques constructives (Tarragona 2012), http://www.tdx.cat/handle/10803/96884 (last accessed July 2014), see p. 523, and plan fig. 268 on p. 583. For the baths, see: A. Martín, N. Miró and E. Revilla, “El complejo termal privado de la domus de la calle Bisbe Caçador de Barcelona”, in Termas romanas en el occidente del imperio: II coloquio internacional de arqueología en Gijón (Gijón

APPENDIX 1: A8b Minor Roads Encroached by Houses 2000) 283–87 (where dating evidence is not presented). An important revision is V. García-Entero, Los balnea privados domésticos—ámbito rural y urbano—en la Hispania romana (Anejos de Archivo Español de Arqueología 37) (2005) 208. The full report for this is likely contained in J. Beltrán de Heredia and E. Revilla, Memòria de la intervenció arqueològica al subsòl del Museu d’Historia de la Ciutat (Casa padellàs-Plaça del Rei) 1997–1998 [Memòria d’Intervenció Arqueològica held at the Direcció General del Patrimoni Cultural, Generalitat de Catalunya] (Barcelona 2001) (not seen). I am grateful to N. Romani i Sala for pointing me in the direction of the most relevant literature on this site Of phasing and dating, it is not easy to calculate a TPQ for these street encroachments. García-Entero (2005) 208 notes that the initial 4th c. house was a single architectural unit, and thus that the frigidarium and corridor room encroaching onto the street are a secondary development. However, it is not clear, from the articles I could access, what the basis of dating is for the domus’ main building phases. The chronology of the 4th c. house seems to be sandwiched between the 3rd c. use of part of the complex for industry and then later 6th–7th c. levels, both of which appear to be supported by finds. It is easier to fix a TAQ for the street encroachments: the subsequent (run down) phases of the domus have produced late 6th to early 7th c. material, including amphora Keay 61 [587.5– 650 Bon]: J.E. García, N. Miró and E. Revilla, “Un context paleoandalusí a l’excavació de l’Arxiu Administratiu de Barcelona (1998)”, in II Congrés d’Arqueologia Medieval i Moderna a Catalunya, vol. 1. Associació Catalana per a la Recerca en Arqueologia Medieval (Sant Cugat del Vallès, 18–21 abril 2002) (Santa Margarida de Montbui 2003) (363– 80) 365. It is clear from the plans in the above reports that the domus complex was also extended to encroach the intervallum on the east side of the site, though this road had been closed in the Flavian period further north along its length. As I am not able to see the archived reports, I am obliged to propose a dating from the 4th c. until the last quarter of the 6th c. for the building of the room extending out onto the cardo. Dating summary: 300–575, midpoint 437.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 1/3 (because site report is not published). 02HIS Barcelona (Barcino) (under the Plaça del Rei): A minor cardo was incorporated into the 6th c. episcopal complex, as an internal corridor, now with a portico. For a summary see N. Romani i Sala, Carrers i serveis viaris a les ciutats romanes del conventus tarraconensis (s. ii ac-vi dc): evolució i tècniques constructives (Tarragona 2012), http:// www.tdx.cat/handle/10803/96884 (last accessed July 2014), 547–48 (Tram de Carrer 3, a cardo). The full report for this excavation is likely contained in J. Beltrán de Heredia and

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E. Revilla, Memòria de la intervenció arqueològica al subsòl del Museu d’Historia de la Ciutat (Casa padellàs-Plaça del Rei) 1997–1998 [Memòria d’Intervenció Arqueològica held at the Direcció General del Patrimoni Cultural, Generalitat de Catalunya] (Barcelona 2001) (not seen). Romani i Sala contains in her summary references to a large number of synthetic treatments of the excavations, which are essentially the same in the details they present. Details of the street that became a corridor with portico are reviewed in: J. Beltrán de Heredia Bercero, “The origins and evolution of the episcopal buildings in Barcino: from early Christian times to the Visigothic era”, in The Archaeological Remains of Placa Del Rei in Barcelona: From Barcino to Barcinona (1st to 7th Centuries), ed. J. Beltrán de Heredia Bercero (Barcelona 2002) (72–92) 88–90 with fig. 35. The most recent treatment that I have seen is C. Bonnet and J. Beltrán de Heredia Bercero, “Arqueología y arquitectura de los siglos VI–VII en Barcelona: El grupo Episcopal”, in Actas del IV y V Encuentro Internacional Hispania en la Antigüedad Tardía. Guerra y rebelión en la Antigüedad tardía, El siglo VII en España y su contexto mediterráneo. (Acta Antiqua Complutensia 5) (20–22 Oct 1999 y 18–20 Oct 2000) (Alcalá de Henares 2004) (155–80). Of phasing, the corridor and portico were created following a change in height in the ground level of 1 m, between the 5th and the 6th c., which helps tie the buildings of the episcopal complex into a coherent phase: Beltrán de Heredia Bercero (2002) (72–92) 88–90 with fig. 35. Of dating, we have three strands, radiocarbon dating, contextual finds and historical dating: (i) The radiocarbon dating of the mortar of the episcopal palace has produced calibrated radiocarbon dates of AD 545–640 for the cruciform church, AD 440–595 for the loculus of the altar of the same structure, AD 440–530 for the hall building, and AD 560–95 for a pillar of the portico of the episcopal palace: Bonnet and Beltrán de Heredia Bercero (2004) 173–74. The correct lab references are not provided there for these radiocarbon dates. However, the midpoints calculated from the above ranges are 602.5, 517.5, 485, 577.5. These radiocarbon dates have suggested to the investigators that the construction of the complex is securely placed in the later 5th or 6th c. (ii) The amphoras of the necropolis of the cruciform church, the ARS and coins finds, place the development (“reforma”) and monumentalisation of the episcopal complex between AD 530 and 595 according to Bonnet and Beltrán de Heredia Bercero (2004) 173–74. A ceramic study is available in the same volume: R. Járrega, “Los contextos cerámicos tardoantiguos del grupo episcopal de Barcino”, Acta Antiqua Complutensia 5 (2005) 231–252 (not seen). A significant recent text is J. Beltrán de Heredia Bercero, “La cerámica común del yacimiento de la Plaza del Rey (siglos VI–VII): aportación al estudio de la cerámica

común tardoantigua de Barcelona (España)”, in 1r Congrés Internacional sobre ceràmiques Comunes, de Cuina i Àmfores de l’Antiguitat Tardana a la Mediterrània (2002) (Barcelona 2005) 137–50. She provides a summary (p. 138) of the numismatic and ceramic dating evidence from three contexts (pp. 137–38) associated with the construction of the cruciform church (inside or out) and with the dismantling of a staircase to the fortification wall, necessary to make room for the wider development of the episcopal palace in this phase. The coins were small bronzes of the 6th c., mostly illegible: a Visigothic nummus, Vandal and Late Roman coins (AE2), which included half and quarter pieces (AE3 and AE4). The pottery included amphoras from Africa (Keay 26, 61 and 62) [Keay 26 = Spatheion 387.5–700 Bon; Keay 61 is 587.5–650 Bon; Keay 62 is 500–600/612.5 Bon] and from the East (LR 1, 2 and 4) [LR 1 is 350–650 RADR; LR 2 is 312.5– 650 RADR; LR 4 = Almagro 54 is 300–700 RADR] and Keay 70 from the Balearic Islands [350–600 Keay 1984 probably superseded], alongside ARS Hayes 12 [now reclassified as 12/102 as 450–512.5 in SLRP and 12/110 in 450–550 Atlante], 80B [440–500 LRP], 87B [500–512.5 LRP], 91C [ca. 530– 600+ LRP] and 91D [600–650 LRP], 99A [487.5–550 Bon], 103 [500–575 LRP], 104A [487.5–650 Bon], 104B/C [104B is 540–600 Bon; 104C is 550–650 Bon], 105 type Waage 1948 given as 570/80–660 [105 is 587.5–700 Bon], referring to a paper in the same volume: R. Járrega, “Ánforas tardorromanas halladas en las recientes excavaciones estratigráficas efectuadas en el subsuelo de la plaza del Rey en Barcelona”, in 1r Congrés Internacional sobre ceràmiques Comunes, de Cuina i Àmfores de l’Antiguitat Tardana a la Mediterrània (2002) (Barcelona 2005) 151–63, which I have not seen. These forms are mainly 5th–6th c., with the latest being 91D [580–675 LRP] and 105 Waage 1984 [587.5–700 Bon]. N.B. Waage 1948 is given in the list as separated from 105 by a comma as if they are two forms, which is incorrect. A date for the second phase of the church (the phase after the encroachment of the street) is suggested from the fill of a foundation trench, which is said to have produced Hayes 105 type Waage 1948, typically attested from 570/80–660, whilst one of the nummi is thought to be from the Visigothic mint active from the reign of Leovigild (568– 86): Beltrán de Heredia Bercero (2002) 83 n. 17. N.B. Here Waage 1948 is clarified as a subtype of Hayes form 105. (iii) In some articles a historical dating is invoked: for Beltrán de Heredia Bercero (2005) 137 the holding of the Council of Barcelona in AD 599 is seen as being a motive behind this building programme. Overall, in dating the conversion of the street into a porticoed corridor, the contextual ceramic dating is the most precise, although the radiocarbon dates provide additional support. I think we should not allow a single radiocarbon

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date (1 of 4) to pull the date back as far as 530, as older carbon can be present within later masonry matrices as older pieces of timber or residual contaminations. I would suggest rather that contextual ceramic dating is suggesting the last quarter of the 6th c., based on the start date of the latest ceramics (587.5). The second phase of the church is thus contextually dated, under the rules of this study, to the same period, 587.5–612.5. This coincides with the historical dating, but archaeological dating should be allowed to take precedence in any future re-evaluation of the ceramic ranges. Dating summary: 587.5–612.5, midpoint 600, class Cs10 (scientific), Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3. 02HIS Emerita (Mérida) (nº 1 de la C/ Holguín, intramural, north-west side of the city, just inside the walls): Houses invade the space of the public portico, with one hearth. Earlier rooms were reduced in size by the construction of new walls from old materials, using earth instead of cement. Subsequently, these features were covered by the Islamic phase. On these new structures: A.B. Olmedo Gragera, “Reocupación del espacio doméstico y viario de época romana a tardoantigua. Intervención arqueológica realizada en el solar nº 1 de la C/ Holguín (Mérida)”, Mérida, Excavaciones Arqueológicas 9 (2003) (151–64) 161–62, with “int08.pdf” of the accompanying CD. Of dating, UE 148 is an earth level in a ‘Visigothic’ domestic structure extending into the portico. UE 148 contains unspecified coarsewares of 5th–6th (‘Visigothic’) centuries. Otherwise, there seem to be no dating indications for this late 4th c. rebuilding or the invasion of the portico and road. I am grateful to D. Osland pers. comm. for alerting me to this reference. His archive research has revised the dating of the pottery of UE 148 slightly: “No diagnostic wares, but the fabrics and forms are appropriate for a sixth / seventh century context (burnished basins, closed cooking vessels, etc.). Fifth century as identified by the excavator seems too early for some of the local wares.” I defer to Osland’s assessment, as he has experience of local ceramic patterns, giving the encroachment a 6th to 7th c. date, based on the full dating range of the ceramics identified. Dating summary (for the rooms built in the portico): range 500–700, midpoint 600, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 2/3. 02HIS Emerita (Mérida): (nº 16 de la calle Prudencio, intramural, north-west corner of the city): A Late Roman road paving was covered with (1) a fill UE 154 [of unknown materials], supporting (2) a ‘Visigothic’ floor surface UE 152, and also (3) a fill UE 151 [of unknown materials], which also covered over UE 152: T. Barrientos Vera, “Ampliación sobre los restos calcolíticos y del viario romano del Cerro del Calvario. Intervención arqueológica realizada en el solar nº 16 de la calle Prudencio, esquina con la calle C.F. Almaraz”,

Mérida, Excavaciones Arqueológicas 6 (2000) (135–71) 141– 43 (not seen). I am grateful to D. Osland pers. comm. for alerting me to this reference. The following clarifications on ceramics were provided by D. Osland’s reading of this report and his archive research: (1) Fill UE 154 contained wares that were “typically late Roman, 4th–5th c. coarsewares, but two joining fragments of an S-curved olla rim of the first Visigothic phase are also present [S-curve Visigothic olla 500–800 Osland]. Several ARS D fragments are present, including a possible Hayes 67 [ca. 360–470 in LRP. First group ca. 360–420, second group ca. 400–450, third group ca. 450+ 67.29 rather later than these [perhaps ca. 460–90 LRP] and a possible Hayes 62 body / base fragment [ca. 350–425 LRP]. This layer was possibly as late as the middle of the sixth century, assuming the S-curve olla is not a later intrusion.” (2) Floor surface UE 152 contained a possible Hayes 63 [375–400 LRP] and a mix of Early Imperial and Late Roman pottery fragments. Inventoried in the article (but not seen by me) are also Hayes 59 [ca. 320–420 LRP] and Hayes 104 fragment [487.5–650 Bon]. Pottery dates in square brackets are from LRP and SLRP. Overall, we must remember that the fill of UE 154 is likely directly related to the construction of the house floor. It is not clear what status the house had. The finds in the house floor UE 152 are likely use finds, trampled into the floor, meaning that one would expect the floor to be in use by 420, based on the presence of Hayes 59. Thus, the Visigothic olla does look somewhat isolated in the fill layer; it may thus have come from the late use of the structure, like the Hayes 104 fragment. This makes it possible to consider that the fill for the house can be given a contextual date of the 360–85 based on Hayes 67. Given that my dating arguments require subtle nuances that massage the report somewhat, I class this dating as poor, although it is not far from other dated encroachments here. Dating summary (for first fill over the road, UE 154, supporting house floor): range 360–85, midpoint 372.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3. Poor. 02HIS Emerita (Mérida) (nº 16 de la calle Prudencio, intramural, north-west corner of city): A late antique house of three phases occupies part of the Roman road, although it is not clear when this encroachment started. The last phase seems to date between the 6th and 7th c., based on associated materials: T. Barrientos Vera, “Ampliación sobre los restos calcolíticos y del viario romano del Cerro del Calvario. Intervención arqueológica realizada en el solar nº 16 de la calle Prudencio, esquina con la calle C.F. Almaraz”, Mérida, Excavaciones Arqueológicas 6 (2000) (135–71) 141– 43 (not seen). I am grateful to D. Osland pers. comm. for alerting me to this reference. D. Osland’s reading of this report and his archive research has provided the following clarification of what I understood as the first phase of the

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encroachment. Osland notes that “UE 147: ‘fill’—under the floor of LA habitation erected over the LR road: includes a definite sixth / seventh c. Visigothic S-curve olla [S-curve Visigothic olla normally 500–800 Osland], along with numerous coarsewares in fabric typical of the later Visigothic phase (ca. 600–750).” Inventoried in the article (but not seen by me), according to D. Osland, are also a Hayes 58 [350–400 LRP] and a possible Hayes 91B [375–530: LRP plus Bonifay and Atlante mentioning a pers. comm. from Hayes]. A slight complicating factor here is how the ‘fill’ has formed at this site. Is it a deliberately deposited ‘fill’ or the result of silting? It is hard to judge without seeing the report. Given that it occurs over a paved road, I suspect that it is the result of the latter, and that the ceramics should here be treated as associative finds for the silting of the road. Nevertheless, they occur underneath a floor. Thus, the floor of the first phase of this encroaching structure can be given a contextual date of 600–25 based on the start date of the S-curve olla, the 6th / 7th c. dating of which I accept based on deference to Osland. This is a rough date, because the chronology of the ‘Visigothic’ pottery here looks to be a little arbitrary in its dating range. Dating summary (late Roman road surface): range ?–625, undated, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3 (plus D. Osland‘s unpublished observations). Dating summary (for the first phase of building over the roadway): range 600–25, midpoint 612.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3 (plus D. Osland’s unpublished observations). 02HIS Emerita (Mérida) (Morerías, just inside western city wall): A square room with a triconch bath, attached to domus 1 (manzana II, “Casa de los Mármoles”), encroached on a decumanus minor by 1.67 m. This happened in the Late Imperial period [implied in the text, although this term can mean the 3rd c. in Merida]. This development reduced the width of the roadway from 5.4 m to 3.5 m: M. Alba Calzado, “Características del viario urbano de Emerita Augusta entre los siglos I y VIII”, Mérida. Excavaciones Arqueológicas 5 (1999) (397–424) 413. No more details are provided, on what seems to be an ongoing excavation. However, the chronology of recent excavations at Mérida depends strongly on ceramics and coins recorded in stratigraphic layers, so there is reason to have confidence in this date, even if it must remain pending, and currently unconfirmed, without the report. Dating summary: Pending. 02HIS Emerita (Mérida) (Morerías, just inside western city wall): A private bath completely blocks a decumanus minor (which separates manzanas IV and V) in the Late Imperial period, apparently the 4th c. is implied in the text, although ‘Late Imperial’ can mean the 3rd c. in Mérida]: M. Alba Calzado, “Características del viario urbano de Emerita Augusta entre los siglos I y VIII”, Mérida.

Excavaciones Arqueologícas 5 (1999) (397–424) 413. No more details are provided, on what seems to be an ongoing excavation. However, the chronology of recent excavations at Mérida depends strongly on ceramics and coins recorded in stratigraphic layers, so there is reason to have confidence in this date, even if it must remain pending, and currently unconfirmed, without the report. Dating summary: Pending. 02HIS Emerita (Mérida) (Morerías, just inside western city wall): The roadway was partially occupied in the ‘Visigothic’ period. This term probably here means 5th to mid 8th c., given that it comes after a ‘Late Imperial’ period, which includes the 4th c., in the text. However, the width of the street, of more than 4 m, was not affected. It was maintained by displacing the centre of the roadway, so as to annexe the area of a portico within the roadway: M. Alba Calzado, “Características del viario urbano de Emerita Augusta entre los siglos I y VIII”, Mérida. Excavaciones Arqueologícas 5 (1999) (397–424) 413; M. Alba, “Sobre el ámbito doméstico de época visigoda en Mérida”, Mérida. Excavaciones Arqueologícas 3 (1997) (387–418) 395 and 403 (not seen); M. Alba Calzado, “Ocupación diacrónica del área arqueológica de Morería”, Mérida. Excavaciones Arqueológicas 1 (1994–95) 285–316. The chronology of recent excavations at Merida depends strongly on ceramics and coins recorded in stratigraphic layers, so there is reason to have confidence in this date, even if it must remain pending, and currently unconfirmed, without the report. Dating summary: Pending. 02HIS Emerita (Mérida) (Calle Arquitas, near to Morerías suburb): A domestic structure invaded part of a decumanus in the ‘Visigothic period’ [which probably here means 5th to mid 8th c., given that it comes after a ‘Late Imperial’ period that includes the 4th c.]: M. Alba Calzado, “Características del viario urbano de Emerita Augusta entre los siglos I y VIII”, Mérida. Excavaciones Arqueologícas 5 (1999) (397–424) 413–414, citing Feijoo, nº de intervención 8.021 (which is likely an unpublished excavation report archived in Mérida). The chronology of recent excavations at Mérida depends strongly on ceramics and coins recorded in stratigraphic layers, so there is reason to have confidence in this date, even if it must remain pending, and currently unconfirmed, without the report. Dating summary: Pending. 05ITA Verona (via Dante): One insula east of the forum, a minor road was narrowed along a distance of 22 m by the replanning of an insula façade, thought to have occurred in the 5th c.: P.J. Hudson, “La dinamica dell’insediamento urbano nell’area del cortile del tribunale di Verona. L’eta medievale”, Archeologia Medievale 12 (1985) (281–302) 283–85, 289–91 with fig. 7a–d (section d of the street façade). Of phasing, the road was stripped of its paving over a width of 4.5 m, the slabs of which were then used to build

126 the façade wall, leaving the width of the remaining street reduced to 5 m. The new rooms seem likely to be of a domestic character, judging from the hearths excavated within them. The large scale action of this encroachment, with its single straight wall of 22 m, its proximity to the forum and the systematic stripping of the paving stones from the area uncovered, suggest it was done with official permission, like the early systematic encroachments seen at Carthage. Of dating, the primary floor level (of beaten earth) inside the new rooms sealed a layer of fill, deposited over the robbed road surface, before the rooms were established. This fill contained pottery, notably ARS Hayes 53 [53A ca. 350–430+ LRP; 53B ca. 370–430 LRP] and 63 [375–400 LRP] with stamps 9C [mid to late 4th c. onwards in LRP p. 231]. This evidence suggests to the excavators a date in the 5th c. for the encroachment. However, I can only suggest a rough contextual date for the fill of the 25 year period after 375, so 375–400. This date range should also be applied to the rooms, as their construction using robbed paving slabs is surely part of the same operation. The end of occupation of the rooms can be established from evidence of a fire that affected the whole area. The primary room floor and presumably the remaining street were both covered by a fire destruction level, also recognised in the nearby Cortile de Tribunale. In the via Dante encroachment rooms, a plate of ARS Hayes 105 [587.5–700 Bon, replacing that given by the excavators who follow LRP] was found on top rather than inside the beaten earth floor, and so relates to its last occupation. This alone cannot support a contextual date for the fire. Rather it suggests a start date for the destruction of no earlier than AD 587.5. In the nearby Cortile de Tribunale, the fire layer contained “Lombard ceramics” not known before the arrival of the Lombards in Italy in AD 568: Hudson (1985) 282–84, 289. It has been suggested that this destruction evidence may relate to a large fire recorded at Verona by Paul HL 3.23: Hudson (1985) 284–85. In Paul’s text, the fire occurs in a period between events in the very late 580s (Childebert’s invasion of Italy prompted by Maurice) and 590 (the death of Pope Pelagius II). As we have only one sherd from the occupation levels of the rooms, with a start date of 587.5, it is reasonable to use the text providing a TPQ provisional date for this fire, of AD 590, as the literary evidence does not contradict what little we know from the archaeology. Of subsequent phases, the insula façade that then survived as the new street boundary until the 12th c., witnesses three rises of thresholds, as the level of the street was progressively raised: a reoccupation of the structure was undertaken at 1 m higher than the late antique level, with a further raising of the level in the 11th c., before being demolished in the last decade of the 12th c. to build the Communal Palace (p. 289). I was not able to obtain

APPENDIX 1: A8b Minor Roads Encroached by Houses archaeological and historical evidence supporting the 11th and 12th c. dates. Dating summary (for stripping of road paving / narrowing of street / construction of rooms): range 375–400, midpoint 387.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3. Dating summary (loss of remaining street surface in fire): range 587.5–590, midpoint 588.75, class Cs7 (TPQ ceramics), x (historical text), publication 3/3. 06ITS Rome (road by Basilica of Maxentius): The road between the basilica and its perimeter wall was entirely blocked by substructures and a staircase relating to the extension of a neighbouring domus over the road, so that it occupied part of the ‘roof’ of the basilica. This took place sometime in the 5th c. The house itself is now destroyed, but unspecified ceramics, from domus floor levels, set on the terrace above the extrados of the east porch of the Basilica, “confirm a date of approximately the 5th century AD”: C.M. Amici, “From project to monument”, in The Basilica of Maxentius. The Monument, its Material, Construction and Stability, ed. C. Giavarini (Rome 2005) (21–74) 60–66, 73 n. 22. Dating summary: range 400–500, midpoint 450, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 2/3. 07AFR Carthage (close to Cardo 9E): The domus (House of the Greek Charioteer) excavated by Michigan team was expanded over the street ‘in the 2nd half of the 5th c. or thereabouts’: R. Brown and J.H. Humphrey, “The stratigraphy of the 1975 season”, in Excavations at Carthage 1975, Conducted by the University of Michigan, vol. 2, ed. J.H. Humphrey (Ann Arbor 1978) 82 (27–112). This extension occurred sometime later than the rebuilding of the house, which is dated to ca. AD 400. There is also contextual dating from mosaic floor levels occupying the area that was formerly a street. It is useful to describe the dating of the domus to provide background for what is a relatively small deposit from the fragmentary mosaic floor within the extension over the street. The construction of the late Roman domus can be contextually dated from deposit I (L015 / M017) and deposit II (K031 / K035), beneath the mosaic floors of the house. These “could be contemporary” to deposit XVII (E05) beneath the late road paving: J.W. Hayes, “Appendix 1: selected deposits”, in Excavations at Carthage 1975 (1978) 113–17. Humphrey (1978) 83 fig. 59 with 132 fig. 4 shows that in square east the relationship between the road surface of ca. 400 and the bedding for the house walls has been removed by robbing. (i) Deposits I and II, which underlie the mosaics of the house, are described in J.W. Hayes, “Pottery: stratified groups and typology”, in Excavations at Carthage 1975, conducted by the University of Michigan, vol. 1, ed. J.H. Humphrey (Tunis 1976) 49–52 (47–123), although from this report I can only see a bowl base of Hayes form 67 with part of a rosette stamp (type 44, small) dated to “about 360–80?”

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[Hayes 67 ca. 360–470 in LRP; stamp 44 “early” in LRP p. 361] and a rim of a small jar with ribbing described as “Late cooking ware I”, which is not given any dating. (ii) Deposit XVII, under the road paving, contained two legible coins of either Valentinian I or Valens (Gloria Romanorum series, AE3) and the Vot X Mult XX series (AE4) of the late 4th c., probably minted ca. 383/88, with discussion in Hayes (1978) 113. The other illegible coins all appear to be mid-4th to early 5th c. The layer (Layer XVII) relating to this deposit also contains pottery of late 4th to early 5th c. types. Of these, Hayes (p. 117) notes especially stamped pieces of ARS (stamp type 28? or 71 and stamp type 25 of late 4th to early 5th and end of 4th to early 5th c. respectively [stamp 28 is 350–450 in LRP p. 236; stamp 71 is 387.5–412.5 in LRP p. 241; stamp 25 not dated in LRP p. 235, but all of these LRP stamp dates are superseded by this 1976 report by Hayes, which is later]. These ceramics point to a date around the beginning of the 5th c., a date that seems “confirmed by the lack of ARS lamps of type 2 and the abundance of late Black-Top Ware”, as well as the absence of late cooking wares. Indeed, ARS lamps (not present) are 420–550 in LRP p. 314. ‘Blacktop ware’ is explained in LRP p. 205 (“Niemeyer’s Schwarzrandware”) as being coarsewares Hayes ARS 191–200. Of these coarsewares, only the following seem to date from after AD 250: p. 196 [before 250 but variants with thick rims 300–412.5 Bon], 197 [187.5–450 Bon], 199 [187.5–300 (?) LRP]. (iii) Another mosaic from the house, in the entrance, has been given a date of the late 4th c., based on coins and ceramics from a context under it: K M.D. Dunbabin, “The mosaics and pavements”, in Excavations at Carthage 1975, ed. J.H. Humphrey (Tunis 1976) (21–46) 23–30, listing the key finds (by J.W. Hayes) as the latest coin being of Valens (AD 364–78) and a coin that might have been issued under Gratian (AD 375–83), plus the copious pottery of which the following is the latest material, indicating a late 4th c. date: e.g. ARS Hayes 59 (given as second half of 4th c.) [ca. 320–420 LRP], Late Roman D (given as post mid 4th c.) [300–700 DCAMNO], ARS Hayes 26 (given as probably late 4th c., which is the latest find in the context) [but 200–300 Bon], ARS Hayes 63 (given as late 4th to 5th c.) [375–400 LRP] and 2 sherds of Gazan amphorae (given as 5th c. but in one case thought to be intrusive) [not checked]. The contextual date for the Michigan mosaic is the 25 year period beginning in 375, under the rules of this study, which is what I use here. The extension of the house onto the road involved the rebuilding of its eastern wall, some 1.5 m further east, over the former sidewalk: see ‘end figures’ 1 and 2 in Humphrey ed. (1978). Within the new space taken into the house, a mosaic floor (E006) and (D056) was laid down. E006 was the first ‘indoor’ surface to be laid here, covering over a calcinated outdoor surface interpreted as a former sidewalk, whilst D056 was the first surface to be recorded where it

stood. The bedding for mosaic D056 (D057) contained Late Amphora types 4 and 5 [I take these as being LR 4 = Almagro 54 300–700 RADR and LR 5 of 0–750 RADR], and a 5th–6th c. nummus. The bedding of the new house wall D013 and D075 produced a ribbed sherd of “what appears to be Late Amphora type 1, which seems to be later than the 4th c.” [350–650 RADR; Narrow-necked 350–650 RADR; Classic 400–650 RADR]: R. Brown and J.H. Humphrey, “The stratigraphy of the 1975 season”, in Excavations at Carthage 1975, Conducted by the University of Michigan, ed. J.H. Humphrey, vol. 2 (Ann Arbor 1978) (27–112) pp. 77–78. These finds justified a contextual date of “approximately the 2nd half of the 5th c.” (p. 78). Overall, the rebuilding of the house seems to be correctly placed ca. 400, as the excavators wish, especially based on deposit XVII. Under the rules of this study, the start date of the last find (stamped ARS) should give us a contextual date of a range of 387.5–412.5, which is what I accept. In contrast, I do not know why the excavators placed the encroachment of the street in the second half of the 5th c. Rather, amphora LR 1 [based on roughly looking at RADR] seems to be the latest ceramic found in the bedding of the mosaic of the encroaching room. This makes the nummus the latest find in this layer and so the basis of a rough contextual date of beginning in 400, of 400–425, for the encroachment. This is rough, though not poor, because the date range for the nummus is so broad. This site is not in H. Broise, “L’Évolution des insulae des maisons du cryptoportique et de la rotonde dans le contexte urbain”, in Carthage, colline de l’Odéon. Maisons de la rotonde et du cryptoportique (Recherches 1987–2000), vol. 2, edd. C. Balmelle, A. Bourgeois, H. Broise, J.-P. Darmon, and M. Ennaïfer (CEFR 457) (Rome 2012) (333–59) 345 fig. 384. Dating summary: range 400–425, midpoint 412.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs7 (TPQ coins), publication 3/3. 07AFR Carthage (Cardines 8E, 9E, 9E again, and 10E) (4 cases, only dated in one case): The street grid, in the district around the Odeon, seems to be complicated by the presence of terrace walls, in what is a hilly district. The consequence is that some insulae are constructed over more than one height level. There is encroachment here, by the House of the Rotonda, the House of the Cryptoporticus, the House of the Bassilica (this is the correct spelling), and the House of the Birdcage / Volière, often designed to reconcile structural issues related to these differences in level, which nonetheless still leave a space for the road, narrowing it without blocking it. This area is site no. 14 of H. Broise, “L’Évolution des insulae des maisons du cryptoportique et de la rotonde dans le contexte urbain”, in Carthage, colline de l’Odéon. Maisons de la rotonde et du cryptoportique (Recherches 1987–2000), vol. 2, edd. C. Balmelle, A. Bourgeois, H. Broise, J.-P. Darmon, and M. Ennaïfer (CEFR 457) (Rome 2012) (333–59) 345 fig. 384

128 site no. 14 with pp. 349–55. I am grateful to the anonymous referee of my book for this reference. Of specific encroachments, the Cryptoporticus House, built in the first half of the 2nd c., subsequently narrowed the roads that flanked it. Cardo 10E was cut back by 1.9 m at an unknown time by a rebuilt façade, and Cardo 9E was encroached by a cryptoporticus sometime after the end of the 4th c., which reduced the cardo first by 3.16 m to only 3.19 m (see p. 352 with fig. 388 to understand the relationship of the cryptoporticus with the street). The House of the Basilica, the House of the Birdcage / Volière and the House of the Rotunda are also shown to encroach by a few metres, in what seems like a systematic line, on each side of the Cardines 8E and 9E, for over 100 m, extending far beyond the houses. These encroachments are best shown on an old rough plan of the quarter, published in 1930 by P. Davin in Revue Tunisienne (1930) plan no. II (which I have only seen via Broise, p. 352 fig. 389, who publishes more detailed plans of the individual houses). Of dating, these developments can only be fixed in the case of the House of the Cryptoporticus, to the end of the 4th c. at the earliest: C. Balmelle, H. Broise, J.-P. Darmon, M. Ennaïfer and M.-P. Raynaud, “Le secteur de la maison du cryptoportique: la maison à péristyle”, in Balmelle et al. (2012) vol. 1 (227–61) p. 249 and C. Balmelle, A. Ben Abed-Ben Khader, A. Bourgeois, J.-P. Darmon, M. Ennaïfer, S. Gozlan, R. Hanoune and M.-P. Raynaud, “La maison du cryptoportique: sondages”, in Balmelle et al. (2012) vol. 2 667–70. Here, the creation of the cryptoporticus is given a TPQ by ceramics from the foundation trench of the eastern wall of the cryptoporticus. The ceramics are tiny fragments of ARS D [300–700 DCAMNO], and important fragments of coarsewares Bonifay 22.8 / Carthage Late Roman Basin 1/ Uzita 3B variant, attributed to the last decades of the 4th c. [probably Carthage LR Basin 1 = Fulford Jar 2 = Bon Commune Type 29 of 387.5–412.5 in Bon]. There is no obvious TAQ for the phase, although the cryptoporticus is described as being part of the last phase of the complex, around the early 5th c., which presumably depends on the cryptoporticus deposits. I almost defer here to the ceramicists, but give the contextual date, under the rules of this study of 25 years after 385, the nominal start date of the last finds, rather than their date of 380: C. Balmelle, J.-P. Darmon, and S. Gozlan, “L’Architecture et le décor, leur évolution”, in Balmelle et al. (2012) vol. 1 (323–32) 332. Dating summary (encroachment of Cardo 10E by House of the Cryptoporticus): range 385–410, midpoint 397.5, class Cs7 (TPQ ceramics), publication 3/3. 07AFR Carthage: (Cardo 17E, at junction with Decumanus 1N, Magon quarter) (2): On this street, in the main German excavations in the centre of the city, some encroachment is attested in the 4th c.: F. Rakob ed., Karthago 1: Die deutschen Ausgrabungen in Karthago (Mainz 1991) 53–56 with plan

APPENDIX 1: A8b Minor Roads Encroached by Houses “Römische Bebauung”. I am not certain that the adjacent structures here are houses, but it seems likely given lack of statements to the contrary. For this reason, I have decided to place the encroachment in this section. Two piers (each 0.95 m by 0.95 m, set 3.35 m apart) were established to the north-west of the road, perhaps to support a projecting upper storey, outside room R20 to 30: an associated mortar level set between the pillars demonstrates that their occupation height was -1.5 m, i.e. the level of the Early Imperial paving. This left a gap of ca. 60 cm only between the pier and the adjacent building, so the space cannot be described as a portico, but it could have supported an overhanging upper storey from the line of buildings to the north-west. A third pier was set one intercolumniation to the north-east, but was very different, being 1.2 m by 1.3 m and set conjoining the building, not set away from it. It has been interpreted as a buttress. Measuring very roughly off the plan (which was not photocopied flat), I also estimated that the street of ca. 6.5 m had been reduced in width to ca. 5 m in these developments. Of phasing and dating, the excavators have struggled to provide a precise chronology for the piers. The third pier was composed of reused Punic and Middle Imperial material. We could at least give a date to the buttress of after the middle of the 3rd c., based on it incorporating reused building material (though the excavator gives it as a ‘TPQ of the 3rd c.’). A later TPQ is available for the first two piers: a follis of Constantine I (of AD 330–37) was recovered, from the mortar of the lowest part of the intercolumniation blocks between pier 1 and 2. A TAQ can be suggested from the street level: the piers seem [though this is not made explicit for the buttress] to be set to serve the level of the Early Imperial street surface (at 1.5 m), not that of the later 4th c. paving (seen at 1.2 m), which is dated by a coin of Constantius given as of AD 350–60, plus other Constantinian coins and 4th c. ceramics), for which see appendix J3. Rakob proposes a dating range for these reinforcing structures from ca. 300 to 365, relating the sequence to different earthquakes, with the buttress being related to the earthquake of 365 [Guidoboni Catalogo no. 138], on which see A. Di Vita, “Archaeologists and earthquakes: the case of 365 AD”, Annali di Geofisica 38.5–6 (1995) 971–76, as described by Amm. Marc. 26.10.16–19 and other authors, as listed in G. Kelly, “Ammianus and the Great Tsunami”, JRS 94 (2004) 141–67, with further bibliography and commentary under Gortyn in appendix C4. Rakob’s earthquake dating can only be suggestive, as many causes might have made the buttress necessary. However, it does seem to fit closely with the chronology of the street development. Overall, I will use the spolia in the buttress to provide a TPQ of 250 and use the coin of Constantine from under the intercolumniation blocks of the piers to provide a TPQ of

APPENDIX 1: A8b Minor Roads Encroached by Houses

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330. For a TAQ I use 375, based on the associative finds of unspecified ceramics from the layers supporting the mid4th c. paving [mid 4th c. is AD 325–75 in this study), as well as ceramics and coins from subsequent layers. The paving itself has a slightly later dating of 361–86, for which see appendix J3. This encroachment is not listed by Broise, though it does look like the kind of systematic narrowing of streets that he envisages was permitted from the 2nd c. onwards: H. Broise, “L’Évolution des insulae des maisons du cryptoportique et de la rotonde dans le contexte urbain”, in Carthage, colline de l’Odéon. Maisons de la rotonde et du cryptoportique (Recherches 1987–2000), vol. 2, edd. C. Balmelle, A. Bourgeois, H. Broise, J.-P. Darmon, and M. Ennaïfer (CEFR 457) (Rome 2012) (333–59) 348–52. I am not certain that the adjacent structures here are houses, but it seems likely given lack of statements to the contrary. Dating summary (buttress): range 250–375, midpoint 312.5, class Cs4 (reused material), Cs9 (contextual pottery), Cs3 (associative, phase development in terms of heights), publication 2/3. Dating summary (for the piers): range 330–375, midpoint 352.5, class Cs9 (contextual pottery), Cs7 (TPQ coin), Cs3 (associative, phase development in terms of heights), publication 2/3 (pottery), 3/3 (coins). 11THR Thracian Philippopolis: A Late Roman building (perhaps a domus) incorporating a small bath, was built over the ruins of decumanus 12. However, this was no ordinary encroachment. It occurred at a time when the street had fallen out of use, as seen elsewhere in the lower city, where surviving streets were raised up by 1 m after mid-3rd c. changes, sealing coins of Severina, wife of Aurelian (270– 75), and Constantius II (337–61). The mosaic floor of the apodyterium of the new complex is itself set 2.7 m above the former decumanus paving. A coin of Philip the Arab (244–49), from under the foundations of the apodyterium, provides a TPQ for the street abandonment: E. Kesyakova, “A residential complex from Philippopolis”, in Studia in honorem Christo M. Danov, edd. A. Fol et al. (Thracia 12) (Sofia 1998) (159–71) 169–71. However, the raising of selected streets and abandonment of others is seen in the 3rd c. as a widespread phenomenon, and is dated by coins to “AD 270–282, whilst others kept their earlier paving or were stripped of it”: I. Topalilov, “Philippopolis. The city from the 1st to the beginning of the 7th c.”, in Roman Cities in Bulgaria, ed. R. Ivanov, vol. 1 (Sofia 2012) (363–437) proofs page number 14, dating not given in more detail. Thus, it is possible that the coin of Philip was not lost until later in the 3rd c., in some generalised crisis affecting the street, but here it will provide us with a TPQ, to avoid circular arguments. The late structure above is of two phases, of which the baths is the second, and may date to the early 5th c., if

the style of building technique (bricks of various sizes 4 cm to 4.5 cm thick, with joints wider than their thickness, of 5 to 6.5 cm) can really be dated to this time, as the excavator suggests, without providing parallels. There is no TAQ given except a destruction of the complex towards the end of the 6th c., as part of the demolition of the adjacent insulae (synagogue, Episcopal basilica etc.) associated with the Slavic invasions, which had decisively changed the northern Balkans by 616: Kesyakova (1998) 169–71. Dating summary (for the encroaching building): range 244–616, midpoint 430, class Cs7 (TPQ coin), z (background patterns, regional), publication 2/3. Generic late antique date. 10MAC Thasos (3): Domus 5 is a house established in Late Antiquity that encroaches onto two streets, to its east and west. For reports see A. Muller, “Thasos: domus protobyzantine. Rapport d’activités aux abords nord de l’Artémision (Thanar)—DOM5 en 2011”, BCH (2012): http://chronique. efa.gr/index.php/fiches/to_pdf/2650/ (last accessed May 2015) (which resumes the ceramic evidence below). For further discussion of phasing see A. Muller, “Thasos: abords nord de l’Artémision. Le rapport d’activités de l’Ecole française d’Athènes en 2012”, BCH (2013): http://chronique.efa. gr/index.php/fiches/to_pdf/3416 (last accessed May 2015). I am grateful to the anonymous referee for this reference. Of phasing, the eastern street is narrowed by threequarters of a room in the first phase of the house, before it is entirely blocked by an apse in a subsequent phase. The western street is narrowed to 3 m by a room extension in the second phase of the house, after which the street was no longer maintained, with a build-up of colluvial layers forming. The house is built on top of an earlier structure, the last arrangement of which is Early Imperial. Of dating, evidence from the late house published so far includes: (i) Finds from the construction of the house: beneath the floor of a mosaic in room 2. A sherd of ARS 62/64 was found in the pink mortar substratum [62 is 350–425 and 64 is 380–450 according to LRP / SLRP], along with coins of Valens or a co-emperor of AD 364–377 and of Theodosius from AD 383–95 found immediately under the substratum. Following the rules of this study, I take the coins as providing a contextual date of 25 years after 383 for the primary construction of the house, a dating that the ceramic does not contradict. The ceramic on its own cannot support a contextual date, only a TPQ, which is redundant. (ii) Finds from the final occupation of the house in the early 7th c., for which we can note several complete ceramic vessels [suggesting a destruction / sudden abandonment]: unspecified plates of Phocaean Red Slip, amphoras LRA 1 and 2 and a ‘mini-spatheion’, which is likely Spatheion 3 = Keay 26 = Bon Amphora Type 31 [LRA 1 350–650, narrow-necked 350–650, classic 400–650 RADR; LRA 2 is 312.5–650 RADR;

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APPENDIX 1: A9 Fortifications Disrupting Road Systems

Spatheion 3 is 587.5–700 Bon]. The spatheion 3, as the last dated ceramic, gives us a contextual date of 587.5–612.5 for the destruction. It is unfortunate that the start date of phase 2 of the house cannot be identified so far. Overall, we should situate the first phase encroachment of the east street in the 25 years following 383, and the subsequent two encroachments (of the west or east street) sometime in the period from 383 to 612.5, the outer limits of the previous and subsequent phases. Dating summary (first phase of house, with encroachment): range 383–408, mid-point 395.5, class Cs8 (contextual coins), Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3. Dating summary (subsequent phases, prior to abandonment): range 383–612.5, mid-point 497.75, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs8 (contextual coins) when taken together, publication 2/3. 15ORI Pella in Jordan (Acropolis): A street (first established in the late 6th c. to early 7th in Area 4) was closed by the wall of a medium-ranking house (the South Building): A.W. McNicoll, R.H. Smith and B. Hennessy, Pella in Jordan 1: the First Interim Report of the Joint University of Sydney and the College of Wooster Excavations at Pella 1979–1981 (Canberra 1982); P.M. Watson, “The Byzantine period: Byzantine domestic occupation in Areas III and IV”, in Pella in Jordan 2: The Second Interim Report of the Joint University of Sydney and the College of Wooster Excavations at Pella 1982–1985, edd. A.W. McNicoll, J. Hanbury-Tenison et al. (Sydney 1992) 163–81; A. Walmsley, “Households at Pella: domestic destruction deposits of the mid-8th c.”, in Objects in Context, Objects in Use: Material Spatiality in Late Antiquity, edd. L. Lavan, E. Swift, and T. Putzeys (Late Antique Archaeology 5) (Leiden and Boston 2007) 239–72. Of phasing, the encroaching wall was established around the same time as the demolition of part of the South Building, when a new courtyard was formed, made up of the street space and the former rooms. This occurred during the Umayyad period, sometime before the severe earthquake that destroyed the site in 749 [Guidoboni Catalogo no. 220]: see Walmsley (2007) 251, who notes that the street was of gravel, giving it as 4.4 m wide. Of dating, an absolute date should be derived from the contemporaneous creation of the courtyard. However, no evidence for formation of the courtyard in the Umayyad era was initially specified by the excavators, except that the occupation surface of this courtyard had only a slight build-up of detritus, suggesting that it was shortly before the earthquake of 747 [later altered in site literature to 749]: McNicoll, Smith and Hennessy (1982) 132. Fortunately, a TPQ for the courtyard, and thus the street closure, was subsequently provided by a pottery deposit coming from a collapse, which occurred prior to the creation of this space (IVH locus 50): see Watson (1992) 179–81. This collapse contained debris and occupation materials from the end of

phase V, which included imported Red Slip bowls, which the report writers believed can date from AD 580–600 to the end of the 7th c., with Watson citing LRP p. 169 [ARS Hayes 105, ca. 580/600–660+ in LRP] and p. 382 [LRD / CRS Hayes 9b or 9c, ca. 580/600–700 in LRP], for two sherds found inside a stable deposit of what appears to be animal dung, caught in the collapse. The collapse pattern of the eastern wall of this room suggested an earthquake to Watson (1992) 181. This is now connected by Walmsley (2007) 251–54 with fig. 3 to the earthquake of 659/60 [Guidoboni Catalogo no. 207], of which there is apparently much evidence on site, referring to P.M. Watson, “Ceramic evidence for Egyptian links with northern Jordan in the 6th–8th centuries AD”, in Trade, Contact and the Movement of Peoples in the Eastern Mediterranean, edd. S. Bourhe and J.-P. Descoeudres (Mediterranean Archaeology Supplement 3) (Sydney 1995) (314–19) 315–16 (not seen). This connection is not contradicted by the ceramic evidence, although we can only give a contextual date for the collapse here of 580–605 as far as I can see, and that is what I will use, to generate a TPQ for the street blocking, rather than any earthquake theory, as there is no seismic damage trace within this trench. Of dating, a TAQ is suggested for the street blocking by occupation finds (including a dinar of AD 735, as the latest coin) in the houses of this area, destroyed in the earthquake of 749: Walmsley (2007) (whole article). For the textual evidence of the earthquake and parallels to nearby Scythopolis, see appendix A11. For the late antique occupation, which first established the street and buildings, see appendix B7. See Watson (1992) for details of the creation of the courtyard (in the end of ‘Phase V’). Dating summary: range 580–749, midpoint 664.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs2 (catch-all earthquake), Cs3 (associative phase of development), publication 3/3. Discounted: 02HIS Barcelona (Barcino): Encroachment on the roads—under the Plaça del Rei, near and next to the fortification, actually began in the Flavian period, and the fortification dates from the Augustan period: see appendix A7a and A9. It did continue in the 6th c., when the episcopal complex covers two roads, but it is not significant, given the previous encroachment. 05ITA Ravenna: (Via D’Azeglio) the domus did not block the street in the 5th– 6th c., but rather had an elaborate vestibule, which in the 5th to earlier 6th c. phase could be traversed by pedestrians (gap of 2.5 m wide). This through-access may have continued in the later 6th to late 6th / early 7th c. phase, but this cannot be proven: see appendix J3.

A9 Fortifications Disrupting Road Systems

This represents a very brief selection of cities where there is positive evidence of increased encroachment associated with the construction of fortifications. The early date of

APPENDIX 1: A10 Systematic Narrowing of Streets, Late Antique the fortifications does not help the analysis, however, and the total quantity of evidence is small. 02HIS Barcelona (Barcino): Streets close to the city wall, on the eastern side of the city, especially the road which lined it (termed the intervallum in publications), were encroached in the late 3rd to 6th c., as described in appendices A5c, A7a and A8b. However, these encroachments began in the Flavian period: appendix A7a. In fact, the late fortifications are not especially decisive here for changes in Late Antiquity, as they were not a new feature of the urban landscape: they did not cut new roads off in this period, as they followed the line of earlier Augustan fortifications. The date of the late fortifications is now thought to be later 4th or 5th c., based on the discovery of a coin of Magnus Maximus (AD 383–88) in the wall masonry, and other stratigraphic considerations, over which there is no consensus as to the correct date within this time frame: J. Beltrán de Heredia, “El urbanismo romano y tardoantiguo de Barcino (Barcelona): una aportación a la topografía de la colonia”, in Civilización. Un viaje a las ciudades de la España Antigua (Exhibition Catalogue), ed. Ayuntamiento de Alcalá de Henares (Alcalá de Henares 2006) (87–96) 91–92 n. 2. The full report for this is likely contained in J. Beltrán de Heredia and E. Revilla, Memòria de la intervenció arqueològica al subsòl del Museu d’Historia de la Ciutat (Casa padellàs-Plaça del Rei) 1997–1998 [Memòria d’Intervenció Arqueològica held at the Direcció General del Patrimoni Cultural, Generalitat de Catalunya] (Barcelona 2001) (not seen). It is clear that the Augustan fortification, whatever its condition in the 3rd to 4th c., had perturbed the use of streets in this area. N.B. the building of the later 6th c. episcopal complex (which I give as 570–95 based on radiocarbon dating and especially contextual ceramic evidence) involved the elimination of a stairway access to the fortifications, thus suggesting a TAQ for the late renewal of the fortification wall: see appendix A8b. 02HIS Emerita (Mérida): Streets near the fortifications were apparently more encroached than elsewhere in Late Antiquity: M. Alba Calzado, “Evolución y final de los espacios romanos emeritenses a la luz de los datos arqueológicos (pautas de transformación de la ciudad tardoantigua y altomedieval)”, in Augusta Emerita: territorios, espacios, imágenes y gentes en Lusitania romana, ed. T. Nogales Basarrate (Monografías Emeritenses 8) (Merida 2004) (207–55) 216. This is the impression gained from the examples cited within my catalogue here. However, again, the fortifications were Early Imperial in date. 09DAC Serdica: The intervallum road was reduced in width along almost all of its length by extension of existing buildings or unspecified new constructions. This is believed to have happened “after the 4th c.”, with no dating specified, although it is possible because the fortification wall itself is thought to be Constantinian. The fortification is the

131

second of two city walls, being built in opus mixtum. The first city wall survives in the form of at least one gate, and has left inscriptions of Marcus Aurelius and Commodus (AD 176–80). The date of the second wall has only been argued, on historical grounds, to date after “Gothic invasions and destructions” to between AD 250 and 275, or to the time of Constantine. Constantine spent some time in Serdica from December 320 to February 321 (Cod. Theod. 16.10.1; 9.3.1; 2.19.2; 9.42.1) and remarked that ‘Serdica is my Rome’: Anonymus post Dionem 15.1 (ed. Müller FHG, 4.199: total edition is FHG, vol. 4. (Paris 1868) 192–99), which has encouraged dating to this period. No similar encroachments are mentioned on other streets discovered in the city: M. Stančeva, “Serdica au 1er–IVes de N. ère à la lumière des derniers recherches archéologiques”, BIABulg 37 (1987) (61–74) 66, with chronology of the city walls discussed on pp. 63–66. The dating of the second city wall is not secure (only post-176), and so neither is the encroachment of the intervallum. I have assigned this entry to this section because I am assuming that the intervallum was not blocked by an active fortification prior to the construction of the ‘Constantinian wall’, which may be an erroneous assumption. Dating summary: Undated. 13ASI Sagalassos: The street by the urban mansion was blocked by the late antique fortification of 383–408: see L. Lavan, “The streets of Sagalassos in Late Antiquity”, in La rue dans l’Antiquité. Définition, aménagement, devenir. Actes du colloque de Poitiers (7–9 Septembre 2006), edd. P. Ballet, N. Dieudonné-Glad and C. Saliou (Rennes 2008) (201–14) 207; F. Martens, “Late antique urban streets at Sagalassos”, in Technology in Transition A.D. 300–650, edd. L. Lavan, E. Zanini and A. Sarantis (LAA 4) (Leiden 2007) (321–65) 356–57. For dating of the fortification see appendix G3. See also (appendix A7c): 09DAC Pautalia: From the time of Aurelian / Diocletian, construction activities began in the intervallum street. “Streets and roadways and pavements were narrowed in some places due to building activities”. The latest finds from city are coins of 570s from Hissarlaka hill. Dating summary: Pending.

A10 Systematic Narrowing of Streets, Late Antique

Here I refer not to partial encroachment by a single structure, but narrowing across a whole insula or more, excluding the introduction of sidewalks or porticoes, so that the roadway becomes smaller, usually from a decision not to repave the full width. I also list here examples whereby the street boundaries have remained the same, but the paved surface has been renewed over only a portion of the street width. This is not a systematic collection, but a sample of sites that have come to my attention from other work, so here I provide mainly cross-references, with one new entry.

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04VIE Bordeaux (Saint-Christoly): Street becomes narrower with more buildings in the 4th–5th c., compared to the 3rd c., going from ca. 4–6 m wide to ca. 2 m wide: Bordeaux Saint-Christoly. Sauvetage archeologique et histoire urbaine (Bordeaux 1982) 66 fig. 59–60 (not seen); Enceintes Romaines d’Aquitaine. Bordeaux, Dax, Perigueux, Bazas edd. P. Garmy and L. Maurin (Paris 1996) 72f (not seen); D. Barraud and L. Maurin “Bordeaux au Bas-Empire: de la ville païenne a la ville chrétienne”, in La civilisation urbaine de l’antiquité tardive dans le Sud-Ouest de la Gaule (Troisieme colloque Aquitania 14 1996), edd. L. Maurin and J.-M. Pailler (Bordeaux 1998) (35–53) 42f (not seen). Dating summary: range 300–500, midpoint 400, class 0, publication? Pending. 04VIE Toulouse: Street replanned but not narrowed, being still ca. 10 m wide road in late 4th / early 5th c. Later, the road was narrowed from ca. 10 m to 5 m at end of 5th c., carried on into 6th c.: Tolosa. Nouvelles recherches sur Toulouse et son territoire dans l’Antiquité (CEFR 281) ed. J.-M. Pailler (Rome 2001) 420 fig. 149 (not seen). Dating summary (replanning): range 387.5–412.5, midpoint 400, class 0, publication? Pending. Dating summary (narrowing): range 487.5–500, midpoint 493.75, class 0, publication? Pending. 16AEG Alexandria (Street R4) (2): This street was narrowed from 6.5–6.7 m to ca. 3.5 m wide by extensions to buildings tentatively dated to the 6th to 7th c. The street was previously narrowed by the construction of neat workshops on one side, of a horizontal depth of between 2 and 2.5 m, open to the street, without thresholds. The excavators have not so far published their dating evidence, as far as I am aware: G. Majcherek, “Kom el-Dikka Excavations 1998/99”, Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean 11 (1999) (27–38) 37–38. Dating summary: Undated. See also (appendix A8b): 05ITA Verona (via Dante): the street was stripped of its paving over a width of 4.5 m, the slabs of which were then used to build the façade wall, leaving the width of the remaining street reduced to 5 m, sometime in 375–400 (not the 5th c. as proposed by the excavator). See also (appendix A9): 09DAC Serdica: The intervallum road was reduced in width along almost all of its length by extension of existing buildings or unspecified new constructions. This is believed to have happened “after the 4th c.”, with no dating specified, although it is likely to be because the fortification wall itself is thought to be Constantinian, which seems to be based only on inferences from historical texts suggesting imperial interest in the city at this time. See also (appendix C9a): 04VIE Eauze (Cardo and Decumanus): The cardo was remetalled in spolia surface, over a thick layer of gravel, but only now 4 m rather than 7 m wide, as previously, sometime in the period 250– 400. There was also a late reduction in the width of the

Decumanus from 5.5 m to 3.3 m, although the dating of this is not currently clear. See also (appendix C10a): 01BRI Kenchester (main road exiting through West Gate): The final surface of the road, in large flat stones set over packed cobbles, was 3.81 m wide (12 feet 6 inches), half the width of the previous street. It is dated to ca. 350–ca. 400. 04VIE Argentomagus (minor north-south road): The street was reduced in width as part of phase 4b (360–395) to 4 m (from maximum width of 4.4 m); 06ITS Paestum (main east-west street): The street was given a new level of “un battuto cocciopesto piuttosto grossolano” (which I translate as “a beaten layer of mortared rubble”), very similar in nature to the road surface of the Republican period which lay below it, though the width of the street had been reduced from 13 m to 12 m. This happened sometime 200–400 (a ‘poor’ date). See also (appendix C10a): 04VIE Arles (Hospital Van Gogh): An intramural street, linking the city to the circus quarter was reset on a slightly different orientation in beginning or middle of 5th c., but got progressively narrower until the end of the 6th / beginning of the 7th c., shrinking from 5 m at its inception to 2.5 m in the end (400–612.5, Pending). See also (across several appendices): Broise proposes that a number of street narrowings at Carthage are part of a systematic narrowing of the roadways, the first testimony of which seems to be the narrowing of streets by the Antonine Monument. These developments likely had legal sanction from the 2nd c. onwards: H. Broise, “L’Évolution des insulae des maisons du cryptoportique et de la rotonde dans le contexte urbain”, in Carthage, colline de l’Odéon. Maisons de la rotonde et du cryptoportique (Recherches 1987–2000), vol. 2, edd. C. Balmelle, A. Bourgeois, H. Broise, J.-P. Darmon, and M. Ennaïfer (CEFR 457) (Rome 2012) 333–59, esp. pp. 348–52). Limited list of sites concerned: (appendix A2b) 07AFR Carthage (‘Monument à colonnes’ under Basilica of Carthagenna) narrowed two streets by ca. 2 m, leaving only 4 m to Cardo 10E, sometime in 379–533; (appendix A7c): 07AFR Carthage (Decumanus 1N, by junction with Cardo 17E, Magon quarter): The south-west side of the street had its length systematically reduced by ca. 1.1 m by a new façade wall within the period 533–65; (appendix 8a): 07AFR Carthage (Cardines 8E, 9E, 9E again, and 10E): a number of streets around the Odeon were encroached by expansions of large houses, dated in only one case to 385–410; Cardo 10E was cut back by 1.9 m at an unknown time by a rebuilt façade, and Cardo 9E being encroached by a cryptoporticus sometime after the end of the 4th c., which reduced the cardo first by 3.16 m to only 3.19 m (see p. 352 with fig. 388 to understand the relationship of the cryptoporticus with the street). The House of the Basilica, the House of the Birdcage / Volière and the House of the Rotunda are also shown to encroach by a few metres, in what seems like a systematic line, on each side

APPENDIX 1: A11 Systematic Narrowing of Streets, Post-Antique of the Cardines 8E and 9E, for over 100 m, extending far beyond the houses. (appendix A8b): 07AFR Carthage (Cardo 17E, at junction with Decumanus 1N, Magon quarter) (2): a buttress from the period within 250 to 375 and piers from the period within 330–375. See also (appendix A7a) for earlier narrowings at Carthage, from the 2nd c., (Cardines 12W and 13W reduced by ca. 2 m and 1 m respectively). See also (appendix J1): 07AFR Carthage (north side of the Circular Harbour): the (paved) extension of roads built onto the land reclaimed from the harbour are substantially narrower than their Roman predecessors, being about half the width, with Cardo 15 east measuring ca. 3.75 m wide and Cardo 14 east being only 2.6 m wide at its narrowest, as against a conventional width within the city grid of a little more than 7 m (24 pedes), whilst a new east-west street, just north of the former harbour wall, was ca. 2.6 m wide at its narrowest point. This seems to date from the period 530–55. See also (appendix J3): 01BRI Exeter: On a street on the northeast side of the Basilica, there were two resurfacings of a roadway of probably 5.6 m in width, during the period 250 to 365, which were 1.2 m and 2.2 m wide, representing a substantial narrowing of the area being resurfaced. 03GAL Rheims (Rue du Générale Sarrail): A minor street, inside the north-west fortification, was resurfaced with gravel in the 3rd or first half of the 4th c. It was now only just over 4 m in width, though the road had previously been 9 m wide between the sidewalks. 04VIE Argentomagus: A minor north-south street was resurfaced first with a layer of tiles, then of large cobbles, and its width was reduced from 8 m to between 3–4 m, in the period 360 to 395. Discounted: 04VIE Bordeaux: A street in an excavated area of the city appears on plans to be getting narrower, with more buildings, in the 4th–5th c., compared to the 3rd c., reducing its width from ca. 4 m to 6 m to ca. 2 m wide. However, this is a water course and not a street: P. Debord and P. Gauthier, Bordeaux Saint-Christoly. Sauvetage archeologique et histoire urbaine (Bordeaux 1982) 66 figs. 59–60 (not seen); P. Garmy and L. Maurin edd., Enceintes Romaines d’Aquitaine. Bordeaux, Dax, Perigueux, Bazas (Paris 1996) 72f. (a résumé); D. Barraud and L. Maurin, “Bordeaux au Bas-Empire: de la ville païenne a la ville chrétienne”, in La civilisation urbaine de l’antiquité tardive dans le Sud-Ouest de la Gaule, edd. L. Maurin and J.-M. Pailler (Troisieme colloque Aquitania 14 1996) (Bordeaux 1998) (35–53) 42f.

A11 Systematic Narrowing of Streets, Post-Antique

13ASI Ephesus (Marble Street): This street was covered with post-antique walls, at its junction with the Embolos, reducing the street width by half: see appendix H7. The walls were full of spolia from the adjacent Hall of Nero, alongside

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statues and their bases. The outside of the Hall of Nero was covered in later 6th c. epigraphic decorations at this point, the earliest of which is AD 569 (see appendix X1a). Furthermore, we know this part of the city was fully intact here during the reigns of Phocas and Heraclius, thanks to inscribed acclamations to these two emperors on the surrounding street monuments: see appendix C3. A likely TPQ is the disruption of urban development after Persian invasions of 614. Overall, this wall very likely dates to the 7th to 9th c., given its immediate use of a classical road passing through a ruin field of large accessible remains. The use of statues in the wall suggests that it was one of the first structures to be built under a regime of free-spoliation within this ruin-field, as statues are often amongst the first elements to be carried away. Dating summary: range 614–900, midpoint 757, class z (background patterns regional), Cs7 (TPQ inscription), publication 3/3. 13ASI Hierapolis (Main east-west street): The main east-west street (Frontinus Street) through the city was narrowed in width by about 40%, outside the Roman agora, after earthquake(s) of the 7th c. The narrowing was caused by the construction of a row of rooms built out from the wall on the south side of the street, over the sidewalk, onto the road area: see P. Arthur, Byzantine and Turkish Hierapolis (Pamukkale) (Istanbul 2006) with map on p. 47 fig. 12 (where the scale does not correspond to measurements given in the text); P. Arthur, “The drawn-out demise of an Anatolian City”, in Vrbes Extinctae, Archaeologies of Abandoned Classical Towns, edd. N. Christie and A. Augenti (Farnham 2012) 275–305. Of dating, we can derive a TPQ for the encroachment from the debris of the earthquake (from the Nymphaeum of Tritons collapse) in the Frontinus Street area. This has produced a coin of Heraclius (AD 610–41), but not the otherwise common bronze coins of his successor Constans II, suggesting that the earthquake took place in the reign of the former: Arthur (2012) p. 279, citing A. Travaglini and V.G. Camilleri, Hierapolis di Frigia. Le monete. Campagne di scavo 1957–2004 (Istanbul 2009) without page number (not seen) [earthquake not in Guidoboni Catalogo or Ambrasey’s Catalogue]. A TAQ can be suggested from occupation finds inside the rooms, which included a leadglazed chafing dish, which Arthur would date to the late 8th or 9th c.: pp. 280–81. This is not much evidence to constitute a contextual date, but it does at least provide an associative date for the occupation in a period in which there is relatively little datable material culture, in contrast to the periods before and after. Note that the rooms installed on the opposite (north) side of the street, set within a portico but leaving a part of it for pedestrians, date from the 5th c., based on contextual dating of ceramics and coins from occupation levels: see appendix Y7.

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Dating summary (for rooms on south side of street): range 610–900, midpoint 755, class Cs8 (coins contextual for earthquake), Cs3 (associative ceramics), publication 3/3. 15ORI Palmyra (Main colonnaded street): A well-planned row of cellular shops, with water supply, was built down the centre of the main colonnaded street of the city: K. alAsʿad and F.M. Stepniowski, “The Umayyad suq in Palmyra”, DM 4 (1989) 205–23. This development created two streets in place of one. That on the south side was now an alley way of 3 m width facing an unlatered portico of ca. 8.9 m width, whereas that on the north, onto which the new shops faced, was ca. 9.3 m wide with new porticoes of 2.1 m set on each side of a 5.1 m wide roadway, within the old north portico, hand-measuring off the plan. The latter road would of course been of an acceptable width in the late antique Near East, as in Jerusalem where roads of 5.4 m were common. The shops are dated to the Umayyad period, based on Umayyad pottery and coins found beneath the floors of the shops: al-Asʿad and Stepniowski (1989) 210–11, 220. I will use a nominal TPQ of the Islamic conquest of Palmyra in 634 and a TAQ of the severe Levantine earthquake of 749 [Guidoboni Catalogo no. 220], on which see entry on Scythopolis below, in this appendix A11, where it is based on coin finds in the massive destruction deposits, as well as historical attestation. This marks a cultural boundary for the Umayyad period, which ended politically in 750. Dating summary (of initial construction): range 634– 749, midpoint 691.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs8 (contextual coins), publication 3/3. 15ORI Apollonia (in Palestine): A new street was built in the Umayyad period, which seems to have been narrowed within the same period, from 3.5 m to 2.5 m: I. Roll and E. Ayalon, “The market street at Apollonia-Arsuf”, BASOR 267 (1987) 61–76, esp. 64–65, with fig. 3. The street width is given as 2.5 m by the excavators (though more often ca. 2 m on the plan) and has a paving of plaster and stones, with a raised kerb on each side. However, it is possible the excavators have missed a sub-phase, as the piers along the street visible on fig. 3 are clearly secondary to the initial construction, which would have given a street width of ca. 3.5 m without kerbs. Thus, we seem to have a street that was narrowed. The stratum of initial construction is dated by Umayyad coins, brown-glazed pottery and Mafjar ware to the Umayyad period, which I take as being nominally 637 to 750. The Islamic conquest of this region was in 637, whilst the Umayyad caliphate fell in 750, which coincided with a devastating earthquake in the southern Levant in 749 [Guidoboni Catalogo no. 220] that provides the reasonable end point for this cultural period, on which see entry on Scythopolis below, in this appendix A11, where it

is based on coin finds in the massive destruction deposits as well as historical attestation. No subsequent stratigraphy is mentioned by the excavators, suggesting that the construction and the narrowing belong in the same period. The reign of Caliph ‘Abd al-Malik (AD 685–705) is favoured as a construction date by the excavators, based on the dubious grounds of building activity in this region suggested by texts. However, I do not use this here as a dating criterion. Dating summary (of initial construction): range 637– 749, midpoint 693, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs8 (contextual coins), publication 3/3. 15ORI Scythopolis (Street of the Monuments, and colonnaded Valley Street leading from it): There was a generalised narrowing of the streets at Scythopolis, due to the extension of cellular units and other buildings, not just over porticoes, but also over the paving, all of which happened before the destructive earthquake of AD 749 [Guidoboni Catalogo no. 220]. When the cellular units were built on the road paving, the streets were narrowed from ca. 14.8 / 9 m to ca. 4.3 m and from ca. 7.5 m [in the presence of sidewalks] to ca. 4.2 m. For summaries, see G. Foerster and Y. Tsafrir, “From Scythopolis to Baysan: changing concepts of urbanism”, in The Byzantine and Early Islamic Near East II: Land Use and Settlement Patterns, edd. A. Cameron and G.R.D. King (Princeton 1994) (95–115) 110–114; Y. Tsafrir and G. Foerster, “Urbanism at Scythopolis-Bet Shean in the fourth to seventh centuries”, DOP 51 (1997) (85–146) 137; E. Khamis “The Shops of Scythopolis in Context”, in Objects in Context, Objects in Use: Material Spatiality in Late Antiquity, edd. L. Lavan, E. Swift, and T. Putzeys (Late Antique Archaeology 5) (Leiden and Boston 2007) (439–72) 454– 64; Y. Tsafrir, “Trade, workshops and shops in Bet Shean / Scythopolis, 4th–8th centuries”, in Byzantine Trade, 4th–12th centuries: the Archaeology of Local, Regional and International Exchange. Papers of the Thirty-Eighth Spring Symposium of Byzantine Studies, St. John’s College, University of Oxford, March 2004, ed. M.M. Mango (Aldershot 2009) (61–82) 70. For reports of excavation, see especially G. Foerster and Y. Tsafrir, “City center (north): excavations of the Hebrew University expedition”, in Excavations and Surveys in Israel 11 (1992) (The Beth She’an Excavation Project 1989–91) (3–32) 14–23. See also Idem, “City center of ancient Beth Shean—south”: in “The Beth Shean project”, Excavations and Surveys in Israel 6 (1987–88) (25–35) 29; Y. Tsafrir and G. Foerster, “The Beth Shean excavation project 1988/ 1989”, Excavations and Surveys in Israel 9 (1989/90) (120–28) 123–24; S. Agady et al. (2002), “Byzantine shops in the Street of the Monuments at Bet Shean (Scythopolis)”, in What Athens Has to Do with Jerusalem: Essays on Classical, Jewish, and Early Christian Art and Archaeology in Honor of Gideon

APPENDIX 1: A11 Systematic Narrowing of Streets, Post-Antique Foerster (Louvain 2002) 423–506. A good plan can be seen in G. Avni, The Byzantine-Islamic Transition in Palestine: An Archaeological Approach (Oxford 2014) 63 figs. 2.5–2.6. Of phasing, the development is very difficult to describe, as it has only received full attention in a reconstructed plan published by G. Avni, given to him by the Scythopolis team. The changes have not been fully described in preliminary reports. Indeed many of the walls were cleared away prior to my site visit in 1998, and are not shown in plans in the preliminary reports. Two plans that are published are of areas in front of the Nymphaeum (Foerster and Tsafrir (1993) 15 with fig. 23) or Antonius Monument (p. 19 with fig. 30), but these show ruins of Ayyubid to Mamluk and Abbasid to Fatamid periods respectively. Thus, it is not easy to check if the rooms are all of the same structural characteristics, or if there was an initial phase that involved the occupation of the portico and then a second phase occupying the street itself. However, a two-phase development seems very likely from the plan of Avni, as the inner cellular rooms on both sides of the Street of the Monuments (henceforth SOM) have very similar narrow doorway widths, whereas the outer rooms over the sidewalks and road paving have very similar wide doorway widths on this street and also on the south-east side of Valley Street. Such a two-stage process also seems to be implied by Foerster and Tsafrir (1994) 110, 113. A ‘two-phase development’ theory can be confirmed in three cases. (i) Firstly, on the Valley Street, the rooms established in the portico (over an oil shale slab floor in the portico, that in turn covered a mosaic very similar to one found in an adjacent space dating to ca. 395–404): see appendix C4 and C6d. These rooms in the portico are described as being followed by the rooms built on the road itself: Tsafrir and Foerster (1997) 137, changing a previous statement of Foerster and Tsafrir (1992) 22, which presented the building encroaching the portico, here called a ‘sidewalk’, and that encroaching the street paving as being contemporary. See for the subdividing rooms, Tsafrir and Foerster (1989/90) 124 and Foerster and Tsafrir (1992) 22. (ii) Secondly, on the Street of the Monuments, in front of the nymphaeum, the rooms built on the street itself seem to contain more reused material than those immediately in front of it, suggesting that the latter were built at a time when reused material (from ruins) was more widely available: photo in Foerster and Tsafrir (1992) 16 with fig. 24. (iii) Thirdly, the Antonius Monument is described as being initially occupied by two rooms, before the complex was extended out over the street itself: Foerster and Tsafrir (1992) 18–19, read along with the plan of Avni. These observations cause me to suggest two hypothetical phases. However, both phases seem to have involved planning, given the structural similarities between the units within them. In both ‘phases’ of

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the process, over almost all of each development, an effort is made to maintain a single common street frontage. The first ‘phase’ of encroaching rooms, confined to porticoes, sidewalks and equivalent spaces, as on the plan of Avni, seems in most cases likely to have consisted of one-room cellular shops, though a few rooms around the Antonius Monument do not follow the classic plan suitable for retail even in their first phase. The 6 cellular rectangular rooms established in the north portico of the Valley Street are mostly ca. 3.2 m wide by 5.8 m deep (internal measurements, like other figures given here), with one wider and one narrower example, as the row turns a corner; they have doors onto the street and also back into the old shops behind. The 4 cellular rectangular rooms established on the north side of the SOM (west of the Antonius Monument), over ruined shops and their portico, measure ca. 6 m deep and ca. 2.8 m to 5 m wide; other units in the same row have single street-facing doorways, but lack a simple internal plan. All measurements given here have been handmeasured off the plan. The 6 or 7 rooms established along the south side of the SOM, fronting the nymphaeum, look similar to the previous row, with narrow doorways, but also have interconnecting doorways in two cases, making for only 2 or 3 single-room units. The dimensions of the rooms are ca. 4 m wide and 7 m or (in one case) 2.3 m deep. Of dating, the cellular row on the north side of the SOM, west of the Antonius Monument, was built over a row of shops likely destroyed by a fire ca. 540, the last coins from the destruction layer in the shops being of AD 534–39 (Agady et al. (2002) 432–34 (from shops 1, 2 and 3) with pp. 444–45, which the pottery does not contradict). The irregular group of rooms over the Antonius Monument has produced a 5th c. coin from beneath the floors and a 6th c. coin from the ‘back room’ [context not specified]: Foerster and Tsafrir (1992) 18, who suggest a date within the 6th c. It is unlikely that any part of the change of character of the area occurred before 506, given monumental investment in the adjacent Palladius Street and its Sigma Plaza in AD 506/507 (dated by an inscription), which would sit badly with this type of development (see appendix X2 for the Sigma plaza). Overall, the coins of 534–39 from the destruction layer provide the best TPQ. The second ‘phase’ of encroaching rooms, which are built on the street paving itself, as on the plan of Avni, resulted in its narrowing by around 60% from ca. 14.8 / 9 m [depending on presence / absence of sidewalks / roadside basins] to ca. 4.3 m for the SOM, with rooms on both sides. For the Valley Street the narrowing of the street traffic area, with rooms on both sides, was from ca. 7.5 m [in the presence of sidewalks] to ca. 4.2 m [though I measured the first width as 7 m from another plan in appendix C3]. These 2nd phase room sizes are generally ca. 2.2 m (SOM) and 2.9 m

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(VS) deep, and their width reflects the rooms they extend. The walls in the SOM seem to correspond to a change of the road surface from basalt stone slabs to a higher level of travertine or beaten earth, although it is not clear if this relates to only the second phase: Foerster and Tsafrir (1992) 18. Of dating for the second phase, I know of no evidence to fix this second development other than that it occurred after the building of the first phase, post 534 (based on the coins of the destroyed shops above), and before the earthquake of AD 749 [Guidoboni Catalogo no. 220], which affected the whole site. The first phase shares the same dating range, as no obvious indication separates the phases, although a range of estimates has been offered without indicating supporting evidence by the excavators: the encroachment are stated as dating from the very end of the 6th or early 7th c. (Foerster and Tsafrir (1994) 110), from early 7th c., and in a few places earlier (Foerster and Tsafrir (1992) 18) to Umayyad with a few being built before (Tsafrir (2007) 75). For the earthquake, which is based on catastrophic destruction sealing coins and coincides with an earthquake known from textual sources, see the next entry. All measurements quoted here were hand-measured from the plan of Avni. Dating summary (first phase of encroachment of porticoes / sidewalks, 3 examples): range 534–749, midpoint 641.5, class Cs8 (contextual coins), Cs2 (catch-all other, earthquake), z (site development), publication 3/3. N.B. ambiguity over phases. Dating summary (second phase of encroachment of street paving itself): range 534–749, midpoint 641.5, class Cs8 (contextual coins), Cs2 (catch-all other, earthquake), z (site development), publication 3/3. N.B. ambiguity over phases. 15ORI Scythopolis (Street of the Monuments): Widespread encroachment on the street was found, covering and incorporating collapse debris from Umayyad arcaded shops, after the earthquake of AD 749 [Guidoboni Catalogo no. 220], dated based on material culture including coins, and texts: Y. Tsafrir and G. Foerster, “Urbanism at ScythopolisBet Shean in the fourth to seventh centuries”, DOP 51 (1997) (85–146) 136, 139; G. Foerster and Y. Tsafrir, “From Scythopolis to Baysan: changing concepts of urbanism”, in The Byzantine and Early Islamic Near East II: Land Use and Settlement Patterns, edd. A. Cameron and G.R.D. King (Princeton 1994) (95–115) 114–15 (who talk of the Abbasid period streets being curving lanes of 2–3 m wide surrounding irregular insulae); Y. Tsafrir and G. Foerster, “The dating of the ‘Earthquake of the Sabbatical Year’ of 749 C.E. in Palestine”, BSOAS 55.2 (1992) 231–35, referencing textual sources. On p. 234 of the latter article, a hoard of 31 gold dinars from the destruction debris of the arcaded shops (now known to be Umayyad from an inscription) is recorded,

over which these walls were built, of which the earliest coin was AH 78 (March 697–March 698 AD) and the latest AH 131 (31 August 748–19 August 749 AD). I do not know what TAQ to use for this occupation, but will use the earthquake and contextual date of 749 as providing an initial construction date of the encroachment here. Dating summary (for beginning of encroachment): 749, class Cs8 (contextual coins), x (historical), z (background regional patterns, of earthquake, see e.g. at Pella), publication 3/3. 15ORI Gerasa (Main north-south street): In the east portico of this road, near where it enters the oval plaza, two phases of building work have been recorded. Of phasing, the first phase is a replanning of the shops ca. 1.25 m west of the Early Imperial portico back wall, which implies that the portico was destroyed. There was then a second phase, which dates to after the ruination of the arch on the oval plaza. This phase involved building out onto and beyond the portico: extending ca. 2.4 m onto the roadway and enclosing the portico with a series of rooms, arranged round a courtyard: see C.S. Fisher, “The ‘Forum’”, in Gerasa. City of the Decapolis, ed. C.H. Kraeling (New Haven, Connecticut 1938) 157–78 (153–78), plus plan 24. Measurements are taken from the plan. The walls have been removed today, but their likely late attribution might be due to the presence of reused material, which can be seen in shops on the same side of the street a little further north along it (observations on photos of S. Kamani November 2013). Of dating, the accompanying text of Fisher talks of finds from the rooms built in the former portico and street space as including (p. 157) “late red ware [probably ARS], and comb-incised grey ware pottery, and coins dating from the late fourth to the seventh century”. We need to treat these as associative finds as we do not have details of context. The 4th c. coins may have been in circulation for some time, but the presence of a full range of late antique coins, and no reported Muslim issues, does suggest the development belongs in the late antique period, sometime from the late 4th to early 6th c. Subsequent excavations revealed that coins found under the structures built over the oval plaza end with Maurice (582–602): G.L. Harding, “Recent work on the Jerash forum”, PEQ 81.1 (1949) 12–20 (not seen), quoted by A. Walmsley, “Economic developments and the nature of settlement in the towns and countryside of SyriaPalestine, ca. 565–800”, DOP 61 (2007) 319–52, 334, n. 43. These coins might have been a hoard, or have represented occupation finds lost in everyday life. I will treat them as associative finds indicating occupation, in the absence of other details. Overall, the conversion of a portico to shops could well fit into the 5th c., even if the subsequent building onto the pavement might date a little later. The coins beginning in

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APPENDIX 1: B1 Forts with Street Grids (4th C.) the late 4th c. give us an associative TPQ of 387.5. Certainly, it does not look like the building onto the street and plaza paving need be any later than the time of Maurice, on account of associative occupation finds, so giving a TAQ of 602. Dating (for both phases, as nothing can distinguish them): range 387.5–602, midpoint 494.75, class Cs3 (associative finds), publication 2/3. Poor as the stratigraphic recording was poorly executed and published. 15ORI Sepphoris (Decumanus): A section of the road excavated in 2007 was partly covered and narrowed by ca. 2 m to ca. 3.7 m, by a series of walls that were built on the ‘sidewalk’ (i.e. in the portico, as is clear from a surviving column on fig. 1 and from p. 5), out onto the road: Z. Weiss, 2007 Sepphoris Expedition Sponsored by the Hebrew University and DOAR Litigation Consulting in Loving Memory of Noam Shudofsky June 24–July 20, 2007 pp. 6–8 available at http:// archaeology.huji.ac.il/Zippori/Zippori_Report07.pdf (last accessed November 2014) (with widths hand-measured from fig. 1 on p. 3). This seems from fig. 1 to be slightly later than the subdivision of the portico into rooms, connected to the shops behind, which contained ovens (tabuns) and plaster-coated vats, possibly for dyeing textiles. These features are thought by the excavator to have been of varying dates. The encroachment structures can be suggestively associated with layers of ‘plaster’ found over the adjacent road paving, separated by a thin layer of different composition. Unspecified coins and pottery sherds from the lowest fill over the decumanus paving suggest that these layers began to form in the early 7th c. AD. This provides us with a TPQ, as the narrowing walls are phased after this fill, along with the plaster layers. The devastating earthquake of 749 [Guidoboni Catalogo no. 220], which affected this region, could be a suggested TAQ for the whole sequence, given the devastation it caused in adjacent Scythopolis, dated by coins as well as historical sources: see above. It does not seem that this narrowing was as extensive as the other examples alluded to above, and certainly was not as systematic as in Palmyra, Hierapolis or Ptolemais. Dating summary: range 600–612.5, midpoint 606.25, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs8 (contextual coins), publication 2/3. 16AEG Ptolemais (East Avenue): The East Avenue was narrowed to ca. 11 m in width, towards its north end, by a series of rooms built over the porticoes and street paving. The “constructional style displayed marked similarity” to the walls of phase 4 in the ‘North-east Quadrant’ (which includes a reused Kufic inscription). This catch-all masonry theory (of which the details of similarity are not specified) shakily dates them to after the Islamic conquest of AD 642, but before the devastating invasions of the Beni Hilal ca. 1000, and subsequent tribes, thus providing a rough TPQ and a rough TAQ. The last dating criterion is poor,

depending on the assumed effects of a major war, rather than any demonstrated urban patterns (as we have say for Britain, Asia Minor and Italy): J.B. Ward-Perkins, J.H. Little and D.J. Mattingly, “Town houses at Ptolemais, Cyrenaica: a summary report of survey and excavation work in 1971, 1978–1979”, LibSt 17 (1986) (109–53) 144–48, 149–52, with dimensions taken from my measurement of p. 150, fig. 23. Dating summary: range 642–1000, midpoint 821, class Cs7 (TPQ inscription), Cs5 (catch-all masonry), Cs4 (reused material), x (historical), publication 1/3, Poor. Generic late antique date.

Street Grids and Street Systems B1 Forts with Street Grids (4th C.)

03GAL Cologne Deutz: This fort has a very simple square plan composed of 16 linear barrack blocks aligned perpendicularly along each side of a colonnaded east-west axial road, running through two gates: H. Precht, “Die Ausgrabungen im Bereich des castellum Divitia; Vorbericht über die Kastellgrabungen”, KölnJb 13 (1972/73) 120–27 (with little detail), and especially M. Carroll-Spillecke, “Das römische Militärlager Divitia in Köln-Deutz”, KölnJb 26 (1993) 321– 444, which is an excellent résumé and analysis of the excavations and finds from the site. For an English summary see M. Carroll-Spillecke, “The Late Roman frontier fort Divitia in Cologne-Deutz and its garrisons”, in Roman Frontier Studies 1995. Proceedings of the XVIth International Congress of Roman Frontier Studies, edd. W. Groenman-van Wateringe, B.L. van Beek, W.J.H. Willems and S.L. Wynia (Oxbow Monograph 91) (Oxford 1997) 143–49. Of internal features, a map of the 1927–38 excavation (of which most records were destroyed in an air raid of 1943), in Carroll-Spillecke (1993) 327 fig. 6, shows the basis of the street grid. It also shows that the main street was colonnaded on both sides for a short section, of which 4 square foundations / bases were observed, 1 on the north side and 3 on the south side. The side streets measure ca. 4.5 m and the main street ca. 7 m, except in the short section where it is colonnaded, and where it is ca. 12 m, with colonnades of ca. 3 m (from back wall to front of stylobate), leaving a road space of ca. 6 m, although it may be the same as the uncolonnaded road width, as I was roughly hand-measuring from a low-resolution copy of the plan. Of dating, an inscription, copied down in the Middle Ages (CIL 13.8502 = B. Galsterer and H. Galsterer, Die römischen Steininschriften aus Köln (2nd edn. Cologne 2010) 259 = ILS 8937), states that the fort was dedicated in the presence of the emperor Constantine. The start date was likely 310 when he was campaigning here and began the Rhine bridge that the fort protects: Pan. Lat. 6.13.1–5, although he did visit Trier later, as in 328: Cod. Theod.

138 1.4.2, with T.D. Barnes, The New Empire of Diocletian and Constantine (Cambridge, Mass. and London 1982) 77. This dating can be corroborated and refined by brickstamps, coins and pottery: (i) Legionary brickstamps include “XX Legio Aug” “XX Legio CV” coming from the fortification wall only. Private brickstamps include “CAPIO / CAPIENACI” and “ADIUTEX” coming from the towers. See Carroll-Spillecke (1997) 334 with catalogue references and key discussion on p. 382, pointing out that the title CV (Constantiniana Victrix) was awarded after the victory over Maxentius in AD 312. The brickstamps CAPIO and ADIUTEX are also found in the Aula Palatina at Trier (p. 385, see appendix A4b). (ii) Coin range on the site is AD 312/13 to 330 and ca. AD 341, with three coins from the foundation trench of the fortification wall being of AD 320–37 (p. 385). (iii) The ceramics identified (pp. 343–66, 385–86) come from the beginning of the 4th c. to the first decade of the 5th c., and so offer less precision on the construction, and thus will not be considered in detail here. (iv) I will also not discuss the dating of spoliated sculptural pieces of 3rd c. date found in the fortification wall, which are considered on pp. 334 and 382–84. The main overall dating discussion is on pp. 384–86. Overall, the best TPQ would seem to be the brickstamps, which must be after 312, and the coins of the fortification foundation trench, which impose a later TPQ of 320, for what was likely the first major structure on site. However, the best dating for the construction of the fort is associative, related to the range of the coin supply, from 313–330, the end of which seems to give us our most reasonable TAQ. Dating summary: range 320–330, midpoint 315, class Cs7 (TPQ coins), Cs6 (absolute, inscription in situ), Cs3 (associative coins), publication 3/3. 03GAL Kaiseraugst: This castrum had initially a cross-axial plan of streets, with 4 streets leading from the 4 gates of the rectangular castrum that reused some earlier streets. The angles of the streets were slightly irregular, not forming a regular perpendicular crossing. For a summary see L. Berger et al., Führer durch Augusta Raurica (Basel 2012), 26–31, 317–334 (streets on 333–334), with detailed plan on 318 fig. 345. The dating of the castrum is based on coin evidence, which seems to have been recorded without much concern for stratigraphy: M. Peter, Untersuchungen zu den Fundmünzen aus Augst und Kaiseraugst (Stud. Fundmünzen Ant. 17) (Berlin 2001) 155–61, tries to make sense of this evidence, looking at precise coin assemblages, and also at more general coin patterns on site. The initial occupation is thought to be of the first or second decade of the 4th c., based on two coin assemblages, behind the west gate. The first are two nummi, of Maximian (of 301–303) and of Diocletian (of 303–305) and the second is a group of 5 nummi of Constantius I Chlorus (294 and 301–303) and Constantine

APPENDIX 1: B1 Forts with Street Grids (4th C.) (2 × 307, 1 × 310–313) from behind the West Gate (p. 157). The internal buildings near the West Gate produced a coin of 330–331 from inside a wall, suggesting that these structures were laid out a bit later (p. 156). Moving to more general patterns, the overall coin loss profiles of the site are comparable to those of other forts in the region, notably those not built until the early 4th c. This reduces the significance of a peak of coin finds for 268–75. This peak is part of regional coin supply patterns, of coins that remained in circulation into the 4th c., not a direct testimony of date of initial occupation (pp. 157–61). The later history of the fort can be deduced from the general condition of coins found inside the castrum. A great number of burn marks on coins suggests a fire. The great majority of these are from AD 348–54, suggesting a fire around the end of this period, especially as the proportion of burnt coins is much greater in this period than it is for coins in other periods of the 4th c. on the site (pp. 162– 63). One street (leading to the south gate) was later closed by the construction of a large building, which [I speculate] might post-date this event. More detailed stratigraphic analysis based on pottery is still desirable. I am grateful to C. Grezet for help identifying these references. Overall, I take the assemblage of 5 nummi as providing a TPQ of 310 for the occupation of the fort, and the burnt coins as providing a TAQ of 354. Dating summary: range 310–54, midpoint 332, class Cs3 (associative finds), publication 3/3. 15ORI Daʽǧâniŷa / Daganiya / Daʽjāniya (Jordan): This fort reflects others of the late 3rd or 4th c. in its general layout: in size, in fortification walls, and in the position of rooms around its perimeter. Its irregular plan makes an earlier date unlikely. The architectural survey of R.E. Brünnow and A. von Domaszewski, Die Provincia Arabia II (Strasbourg 1905) 8–13 with table 41 (the site plan) can now be replaced by V.L. Goodwin, “The Castellum of Daʽjāniya (Area T)”, in S.T. Parker, The Roman Frontier in Central Jordan: Final Report on the Limes Arabicus Project, 1980–1989 (Dumbarton Oaks Studies 40) vol. 1 (Washington 2006) 275–87 with fig. 14.1 (site plan), from which I have derived dimensions, hand-measuring from the plan, unless they have specific page references. Of internal features, this site is an almost-square parallelogram in shape, measuring 102.2 m by 99.15 m by 99.75 m by 101.1 m (Goodwin (2006) 276) with a main north-west / south-east road (ca. 13.5 m wide) linking two gates in the fortification. Other streets are arranged in a system of insulae of different sizes, which are regular of right-angled shapes, except where they resolve their lines with the fortification, which is set to align only with the main northwest / south-east road. The streets running north-east / south-west are not continued in their alignment, as they cross over the main street. The streets measure ca. 4.25 m maximum to ca. 2.25 m minimum.

APPENDIX 1: B1 Forts with Street Grids (4th C.) Of dating, soundings carried out within the fort suggest that the main time of occupation was during what the excavators call “Late Roman IV / Early Byzantine ca. 284–502”, by associative dating with the overwhelming presence of pottery from this specific period: Goodwin (2006) 277–87, esp. 278. These dates are obviously rough and depend on historical events (see below for further comments). A single coin from these major primary levels dates from 315–16 (Goodwin (2006) 282, from the fill of an elevated platform), whereas the slight second-phase occupation seen in the sondages, of “Late Byzantine I–II (ca. 500–551)”, yielded a few sherds of this period and a coin of 491–98 (pp. 283–84). Although we might like to date the construction of the fort at the start of Late Antiquity, this cannot be done on the basis of a single coin. The construction date is best calculated through association with the massive incidence of pottery finds from the period 284–502. This means the date must remain relatively broad, across the whole of the period which depends on unspecified pottery types, with dating likely based on historical events. Recently, there have been attempts to suggest an abandonment of forts in this region by Justinian, based on a dearth of later coin finds from his reign. However, these views have been rejected, because the units concerned continued to exist: R. Alston, “Writing the economic history for the late antique east: a review”, in Ancient West and East 3.1 (2004) (124–36) 126 with references. The ceramic dates offered by the Limes Arabicus project are commented upon by S.T. Parker, “The Pottery”, in S.T. Parker, The Roman Frontier in Central Jordan: Final Report on the Limes Arabicus Project, 1980–1989 (Dumbarton Oaks Studies 40) vol. 2 (Washington 2006) 329–76. They are given as periods of ‘Late Roman I’ to ‘Early Byzantine IV’ and later, based on J.A. Sauer’s chronology of the history of Palestine worked out at Tell Hesban (p. 332). It seems clear that there is very little imported pottery from outside the region that might help to fix chronology in a conventional way (only a Peacock and Williams amphora class 47 on p. 338, as far as I could see). Thus, the dating seems to be based on the seriation of local coarsewares with major historical events (earthquakes and so on) taken as representing the end points for different ceramics, with some concordance with coin finds, especially where excavated by the Limes Arabicus Project. This is a very different style of working on excavations such as Pella (see entries throughout my appendices), which do refer to recognised Late Roman pottery styles, notably forms of Hayes ARS, and cite specific wares as the basis of the justification of their dates. A review of this ‘Hesban’ chronology (used elsewhere in the region) is overdue. Dating summary: range 284–502, midpoint 393, class Cs3 (associative, finds of ceramics), publication 2/3, Poor.

139 15ORI El-Lejjūn (Jordan): This fort has a plan reminiscent of the Early Imperial period, with a playing-card shape, inside which two axial streets led from the main gates in the walls to cross outside the principia building. The meeting-point of the streets is marked by a cross-hall that is considered in appendix F6. At least one of the streets is colonnaded (that leading in from the gate facing the principia): S.T. Parker and J.W. Betlyon, The Roman Frontier in Central Jordan: Final Report on the Limes Arabicus Project, 1980–1989, vol. 1 (Dumbarton Oaks Studies 40) (Washington 2006), with site map. The north-south axial street running across the short axis of the fort measures ca. 11.5 m wide, whereas the eastwest street running from the east gate to the principia measures ca. 14 m wide, with colonnades of ca. 4 m wide on each side of a roadway ca. 6 m wide, measuring off the site map. The barrack blocks are separated by widths of ca. 9 m or ca. 12 m, sometimes less, although it is not clear that a full system of defined streets is present here. These measurements were hand-measured from the site map. Phase 1 (Stratum 6) contains the above street arrangement. El-Lejjūn is listed as one of the forts with Late Roman / Early Byzantine pottery known from “excavation evidence” (but without Early Roman / Nabataean sherds) by Parker (2006) vol. 1 tables 2.15–2.16. This is borne out by the excavations of the principia and the barracks, where there is a lack of material dating to before the 4th c. AD: see various contributions in the same volume. A summary of the key dating evidence is provided by S.T. Parker, “The Legionary fortress of el-Lejjūn”, in the same volume (111–122) 120, which describes how Late Roman pottery was found in foundation levels across the site, and that the coin corpus for the site, discounting a single Nabataean coin, begins in the last quarter of the 3rd c. with Probus (276–82). A coin of Maximianus comes from the foundation layer (B.1:098) of the Late Roman barracks, dated ca. AD 304–305, providing a TPQ for the building. It suggests to the excavator that the fort was erected relatively late in Diocletian’s reign, to which he thinks it belongs also because of its plan. The other coins (of the last quarter of the 3rd c. onwards) provide a good associative date for the beginning of occupation, though we would expect older coins from the previous 25 years or so to still be circulating, placing the foundation date in the first quarter of the 4th c. Phase 2 (Stratum 5A), of replanning across the site, which retained the street system, is attributed to damage caused by an earthquake of AD 363, followed by contexts with 5th c. coins. On the earthquake of 363, see K.W. Russell, “The Earthquake of May 19, A.D. 363”, BASOR 238 (1980) 47–64 [not in Guidoboni Catalogo, but in Ambraseys Catalogue 148–51]. I did not see uncontrovertible structural evidence for this earthquake in the report, although

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APPENDIX 1: B2 Forts with Axial Colonnaded Streets (Late 3rd–4th C.)

my report access was imperfect, so I do not feel this date can be accepted. However, coins recovered from a levelling fill under a new floor in the principia, of this phase, had as its latest clearly identifiable coin an issue of 330–35, alongside one of 329–30, one of 325–28, a mid 4th and a later 4th c. coin and two generic ‘Early Byzantine’ coins of 363–502: S.T. Parker, “The Pottery”, in S.T. Parker, The Roman Frontier in Central Jordan: Final Report on the Limes Arabicus Project, 1980–1989 (Dumbarton Oaks Studies 40) vol. 2 (Washington 2006) 342. This suggest levelling operations in the 25 years after the start date of the coin of the later 4th c. [which I take to mean 350–400], so giving us a date range of 350–75, for the rebuilding, which might not have been an entirely unified campaign. A post-earthquake floor from the kitchen of principia included 14 coins from 283–84 to 351–55: p. 334. Phase 3 (Stratum 3), of re-establishment of order in early 6th c. in streets around principia, with new surfaces and sewers took place after an ‘AD 502’ earthquake, but before an earthquake of 551, which is testified to be structural damage, including the skeleton of a child found trapped with a tower. Later in same phase, that dates to the first half of the 6th c., cooking fires were set in the portico and rubbish dumped on the street: Parker and Betlyon (2006) 120–21 and 152–55, with the barracks excavation showing a different story, of reduced activity after the first earthquake: 169–70. For the earthquake of 502 see Ambraseys AD 502 p. 79 and for AD 551 see Guidoboni Catalogo no. 186 and Ambraseys AD 552 p. 119. Numismatic dating evidence for this phase also comes from the latest clearly identifiable coins, two issues of 534–65 found at different places in the collapse debris: S.T. Parker “The Pottery”, in S.T. Parker and J.W. Betylon, The Roman Frontier in Central Jordan: Final Report on the Limes Arabicus Project, 1980–1989 (Dumbarton Oaks Studies 40) (Washington 2006) vol 2 (329–364) 346. N.B. That I do not make use of the ceramics in providing dates for the site, as the ceramic typologies of the region seem to be little known, and the report seems to be conceived primarily in large part to provide a basis for future ceramic dates based on coins and earthquake chronologies. See my comments on this in the previous entry on Daʽǧâniŷa, above, in this appendix. Dating summary (of phase 1): range 300–25, midpoint 312.5, class Cs3 (associative coins), publication 2/3. Dating summary (of phase 2): range 350–75, midpoint 362.5, class Cs8 (contextual coins), Cs2 (catch all other, earthquake), publication 3/3. Dating summary (of phase 3): range 502–551, midpoint 526.5, class Cs8 (contextual coins), Cs2 (catch all other, earthquake), publication 3/3. Other fort plans (of late 3rd to 4th c. date): J. Lander, Roman Stone Fortifications: Variations and Change from the First Century AD to the Fourth (BAR-IS 206) (Oxford 1984);

S. Johnson, Late Roman Fortifications (Totowa, New Jersey 1983) 27–30; C. Bridger and K.J. Gilles edd., Spätrömische Befestigungsanlagen in den Rhein- und Donauprovinzen (BAR-IS 704) (Oxford 1998); B. Isaac, The Limits of Empire. The Roman Army in the East (Oxford 1990); B. Bavant, “Identification et fonction des bâtiments”, in Caričin Grad 2: Le quartier sud-ouest de la ville haute, edd. B. Bavant, V. Kondić and J.M. Spieser (CÉFR 75) (Belgrade-Rome 1990) 123–58, with references.

B2 Forts with Axial Colonnaded Streets (Late 3rd–4th C.)

09DAC Drobeta (on Danube): A cross-axial plan was adopted in the ‘5th c.’ phase, with cellular rooms fronted by colonnades lining the streets. Only one of these colonnaded streets leads in from a gate, the others ending when they reach the fortification walls: R. Florescu, “Les phases de construction du Castrum de Drobeta (Turnu Severin)”, in Studien zu den Militärgrenzen Roms (Bonner Jahrbuch Beiheft 19) (Cologne-Graz 1967) (144–51) 148–49, with table 17.2. The walls of this phase are all set at a higher level than the previous buildings, which are said to be of Early Imperial to 4th c. date. The new walls correspond with a raising of the curtain wall by 3 m. For stratigraphic details, see G. Florescu, “Castrul roman Drobeta”, Revista Istorică Română 3 (1933) 54–77 (not seen). A site plan with scale is available in P.L. MacKendrick, The Dacian Stones Speak (Chapel Hill 1975) p. 164 fig. 7.1. Most likely the dating is based on coins from fill layers needed to raise the floor up to the ‘5th c.’ level, although I was not able to confirm this. Of internal features, the site is not really divided into insulae, but into 4 quadrants, two of which measure ca. 44 m by 44 m and two others ca. 44 m by 54 m, hand-measuring off the plan. Of dimensions, each of the 4 colonnaded streets measure ca. 14 m wide (of which the two porticoes are ca. 4 m wide on each side and the roadway is ca. 6 m wide). Again, I obtained these figures from hand-measuring off the plan. I do not trust the date for the fort given by the publications I have seen, due to a general lack of dating evidence. However, a late 3rd to 5th c. date is likely, given cross-axial plans of other forts of this date, e.g. Palmyra below. Dating summary: Undated. 15ORI Palmyra (Camp of Diocletian): This fort has been partially excavated, revealing a cross-axial plan with two colonnaded streets meeting at right-angles at a central cross hall, from which the southern part of the northsouth street leads to the main colonnaded street, and the northern part leads to the courtyard of the principia. The plan, set within the constraints of an irregular site, was, in part, originally designed for a different purpose. The main reports are K. Michalowski, Palmyra Fouilles Polonaise 1960 (Warsaw-Paris 1960); R. Fellmann, “Le ‘Camp de

APPENDIX 1: B2 Forts with Axial Colonnaded Streets (Late 3rd–4th C.) Dioclétien’ à Palmyre et l’architecture militaire du BasEmpire”, Mélanges d’histoire ancienne et d’architecture offerts à Paul Collart (Cahiers d’Archéologie 5) (Lausanne 1976) 173–91; M. Gawlikowski ed., Palmyre 8. Les Principia de Dioclétien:“Temple des Enseignes” (Warsaw 1984); S.P. Kowalski, “The praetorium of the Camp of Diocletian in Palmyra”, Studia Palmyreńskie 9 (1994) 39–70, with a summary in S.P. Kowalski, “The Prefect’s House in the Late Roman legionary fortress in Palmyra”, Études et Travaux 18 (1999) 161–71 with a reconstructed plan of the site on p. 165 fig. 3. A useful summary of the dating is provided by K. Juchniewicz, “Late Roman fortifications in Palmyra”, Studia Palmyreńskie 12: Fifty Years of Polish Excavations in Palmyra 1959–2009, International Conference, Warsaw, 6–8 December 2010 (2013) 193–202. Of internal features, on the reconstructed plan, the dominating presence of the 4 axial colonnaded streets overwhelms other streets, so that the colonnades block off side alleyways that separate likely barrack blocks. I do not know what basis this has in excavation, but it results in only 4 insulae, of which the sizes are not clear, being roughly from ca. 30 m by 42 m to ca. 46 by 92 m, hand-measuring off the plan of Kowalski (1999) p. 165 fig. 3. Of dimensions, the east-west street seems to measure ca. 9.3 m where it reaches the tetrapylon (with two porticoes each of ca. 3.3 m and a roadway of ca. 2.7 m), whilst the north-south street measures ca. 20.75 m (with porticoes each of ca. 4.2 m and a roadway of 12.35 m) from plans in Michalowski (1960) 17 fig. 10 and 50 fig. 45 (with the internal measurements from roughly hand-measuring off the plan). There may be some errors here as the annotated figures I read off my photocopy were not very clear. Of the phasing, the ‘tetrapylon’ cross-hall of the camp was certainly built as part of the same conception as the north-south colonnaded streets running from the main gate to principia, as part of grand replanning of the compound, even if there is less reuse in the tetrapylon than the rest of the camp (see appendix F6). The connection of the two elements is clear from the placing of the colonnades, which are aligned with the ‘tetrapylon’. Furthermore, the part leading north to the principia has one of the socles [i.e. the stylobate?] overlying the upper steps of the ‘tetrapylon’. The part going to the south to the main entrance has a colonnade with a base at the same height as the ‘tetrapylon’, and socles of soft grey limestone. In contrast, the eastern part of the east-west street has colonnades that are narrower and do not match those of the ‘tetrapylon’. Rather they line up with the intermediate columns within its structure. This is odd, as their bases and basements are in two places respectively set at the same level as the tetrapylon or are made of soft limestone, suggesting they are of the same date as those of the southern street. The reason for the difference in width of the east-west street

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can be seen in the eastern part, in front of the Temple of Allat, a building predating the camp. Here the north side of the colonnade is clearly of a different period, its basement being constructed in hard limestone, not the soft limestone of the basement of the south side. Thus, the line of the east-west street colonnade was perhaps inherited from a colonnade surrounding the temple, and had to be incorporated by the late 3rd c. builders, who extended the colonnade west to join the ‘tetrapylon’: Michalowski (1960) 41–54. See on this also Kowalski (1994) 47, which notes that the portico in front of the Temple of Allat was paved in limestone slabs. The staircase of the principia also shows two phases: Juchniewicz (2013) 194. Of dating, the fixed points of dating for the fortress are as follows, and are presented in the article of Juchniewicz, with references to further literature: (i) Firstly, a bronze coin of Aurelian (AD 270–75) was found in the stylobate of the via principalis, providing a TPQ. (ii) Secondly, the staircase of the ‘forum / principia’ contains a reused column, which suggests to Juchniewicz (p. 194, citing Kowalski (1994) 47) a date after the sack of the city in AD 273, providing a more generalised, if less secure, TPQ. Spolia use in the city seems (as far as I could tell) to date from after this event: see appendix F6 discussing the ‘Aurelianic’ city wall that surrounds the camp. (iii) Thirdly, a TAQ can be derived from a building inscription of the Tetrarchic governor Sossianus Hierocles (sometime between AD 293 and 303 from the imperial titles, and with Hierocles described as praeses). His work in building the camp (rather than just one building) is commemorated in an inscription from the temple of the standards within the same forum / principia, from a lintel, that was found in the building: K. Asʾad and J.-B. Yon, Inscriptions de Palmyre. Promenades épigraphiques dans la ville de Palmyre (Guides archéologiques de l’IFAPO 3) (Beirut 2001) 83 no. 26 = J.-B. Yon, IGLS 17.1 Palmyre (Bibliothèque archéologique et historique 195) (Beirut 2012) 121, with PLRE 1.432 Sossianvs Hierocles 4. However, this inscription relates to the second phase of the forum / principia, coming after the initial one of the staircase including the reused column. Other signs of an earlier occupation of the compound are visible elsewhere. For example, there is an inscription of AD 150 from the Temple of Allat suggesting that this building was in place by that date: see M. Gawlikowski “Du ḥamānā au naos. Le temple palmyrénien hellénisé”, Topoi 7.2 (1997) (837–49) 837–38; also M. Gawlikowski, “Le temple d’Allat à Palmyre”, Revue Archeologique (1977) 253–74 (not seen); Idem, “Réflexions sur la chronologie du sanctuaire d’Allat à Palmyre”, DamMitt 1 (1983) 59–67 (not seen). Overall, we can say that there was at least one building (the Temple of Allat), fronted by a monumental portico, in this compound from the 2nd c. onwards. Some other monumental buildings may also have been started under

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APPENDIX 1: B2 Forts with Axial Colonnaded Streets (Late 3rd–4th C.)

Aurelian, after his sack of the city in AD 273: Juchniewicz (2013) 194 thinks that the first phase of the principia stairs with its reused column might date from this period. Quite when the final replanning of the compound with 4 colonnaded streets set around a cross-hall dates from is uncertain. We do not know if it was Aurelianic or Diocletianic, or done at a date between them. It was likely to have been finished by the time that Diocletian’s governor completed the principia, which makes maximum use of the plan’s axiality. Thus, a date range for the axial street plan should be set between AD 273 and in or before AD 303. Dating summary: range 273–303, midpoint 288, class x (historical text), Cs7 (TPQ coins), Cs6 (TAQ inscription). 08PAN Split (Palace of Diocletian): This rectangular fortified site, which I prefer to characterise as an imperial fortress, more than an imperial villa (such as Romuliana), exhibited a plan of cross-axial colonnaded streets coming from the three gates and the residential part of the palace. The site plan is known mainly from limited excavation, with extrapolation, all of which seems to have been recorded, as regards streets, by the time of J. and T. Marasović, “A survey of exploration, preservation and restoration work carried out in the Palace of Diocletian between 1955 and 1965”, Urbs 4 (1961–62) 23–54 (not seen), to which later excavations seem to have added no more details. See summary of the complex in J.J. Wilkes, Diocletian’s Palace, Split. Residence of a Retired Roman Emperor (Oxford 1993), with further references, which has been my main source, especially for references to Marasović and Marasović (1961–62), an article I was not able to obtain myself. A discussion of the design in relation to changing fort architecture is R. Fellmann, “Der Diokletianspalast von Split im Rahmen der spätrömischen Militärarchitektur”, AntW 10 (1979) 47–55. On the reconstructed plan (reproduced in Wilkes (1993) 39 fig. 4), 4 colonnaded streets form a cross-axial plan, with 3 streets leading from the gate, and the 4th leading into the palace. Real excavation is more limited. Only one of the streets (the main east-west road) is definitely colonnaded in the normal sense, having porticoes, the southern northsouth street being colonnaded, but without a portico wall to the rear. It is reasonable to consider the streets as part of the first phase, as other buildings are set within them, including primary residential structures of the palace. The discovery of a cross-shaped ‘decussis’ in the paving at the crossing of the colonnaded streets supports this, as it was probably designed by surveyors to set the position of the gates and main streets in a single planned action: B. Gabriĉević, “Decussis Dioklecijanove palače u Splitu”, in Vjesnik za Arheologiju I Historiju Dalmatinsku 63–64 (1961– 62) 113–24 (not seen), recopied by Wilkes (1993) 40 fig. 5. The southern colonnaded street, which survives with its arcades (and is described as a peristyle in publications) had

stone screens between columns, preventing access to the spaces behind: Marasović and Marasović (1961–62) 23–54. Of internal features, a new survey plan, shared with me by Katja Marasović (pers. comm. 2016) reveals 4 insulae divided by axial colonnaded streets. Of insula sizes, the northernmost two measure ca. 42 m east-west by 52 m north-south and 43 m east-west by 53 m north-south, with a similar arrangement on the south side merged into one large insula, although not framed by streets. Of dimensions, the main east-west colonnaded street seems to be ca. 23 m wide, made up of south portico 5.5 m, roadway 12 m and north portico 5.5 m wide, hand-measuring off the plan. The north-south colonnaded street, running north only from the intersection, not south, is wider, measuring 25 m wide, made up of 6.5 m west portico, 12 m roadway, 6.5 m east portico. All these dimensions have been obtained from hand-measuring off the plan. Of phasing, there is nothing obvious to suggest anything but one major construction phase for the complex: it appears as a well-integrated architectural unity in its main axial roads, fortifications and principal buildings (excluding the baths). Of dating, the Palace was built for Diocletian, but was not complete on his death AD 311/12, having retired there after his abdication in AD 305 (PLRE 1.252–54 C. Aur. Val. Diocletianus 2). The structure is identified as Diocletian’s palace primarily because Eutr. 9.27 places the retirement home of the emperor as ‘not far from Salonae’, where he had a villa. Lactant. De mortibus persecutorum states that Diocletian retired to his native country. The identification is strengthened by the ornament of the temple and its former cult statue, which relate to Diocletian’s divine persona, Jupiter, though I will not discuss this here. It appears from recent publications that there is almost no archaeological evidence for the date of the complex. It has been argued that the presence of numerous carved antique sphinxes and Egyptian columns in the complex implies a commencement date after Diocletian’s pacification of Egypt in 298: J. Belamarić, “The date of foundation and original function of Diocletian’s palace at Split”, Hortus Artium Medievalium 9 (2003) (173–85) 173–75. Indeed, 298 is seen as a particularly appropriate year by Belamarić, as this was the first time that Diocletian and his co-emperors achieved a firm grip upon all parts of the empire. Whatever the truth of that, the scale of use of Egyptian stone work, likely mainly derived from public buildings, does provide a rough TPQ of 298, though perhaps some parts, like the fortifications, might have commenced a little earlier. The unfinished state of the complex implies that work stopped in 305 according to some scholars, although I do not see why they could not have continued up to 311/12, as Diocletian

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APPENDIX 1: B3 Forts with Some Planning (5th–6th C.) retained the respect of his successors: e.g. J. Mannell, “The monopteroi in the west precinct of Diocletian’s palace at Split”, JRA 8 (1995) (235–44) 235. Dating summary: range 298–312, midpoint 305, class Cs7 (TPQ stonework), x (historical texts), publication 3/3. Discounted (as containing only one colonnaded street): 15ORI El-Lejjun: It has one colonnaded street leading to a cross-hall, not two axial colonnaded streets. For its crosshall, see below appendix F6. 16AEG Dionysias: A fortress with a single axial colonnaded street was established in the later 3rd or 4th c., as summarised with references by P. van Minnen, “Dionysias (meris of Themistos)”, https://www. trismegistos.org/fayum/fayum2/565.php?geo_id=565 (last accessed March 2019), of which the report is J. Schwartz et al. Qasr-Qarun-Dionysias 1950 2 vols (Cairo 1950 and 1969), with J.-M. Carrié, “Les Castra Dionysiados et l’évolution de l’architecture militaire romaine tardive”, MEFRA (1974) 86.2 (819–850) 828 (envisaging a foundation under the Palmyrene Empire, because of evidence of an earlier phase) and P. Pensabene, Elementi architettonici di Alessandria e di altri siti egiziani (Rome 1993) 230–32 (noting an Ostrakon O. Fay. 21 which describes the fort as newly constructed, although Van Minnen notes only that it was being repaired). 16AEG Maglonum: D.Valbelle and J.-Y. Carrez-Maratray Le camp romain du Bas-Empire à Tell el-Herr (Paris 2000), reveals a tetrarchic fort with one colonnaded street so far confirmed. The site is dated to 289–296 by the excavators, based on the tetradrachme coins recovered from the foundation levels of the site: J.-Y. Carrez-Maratray, “L’occupation romaine tardive à Tell el-Herr (250–400 apr. J.-C.)”, in the same volume (8–36) 30. The latest of these is an issue of the 4th year of Maximian, from 29 August 289, whilst these coins stop being issued on 28 August 296, when the circulation was also apparently withdrawn. Carrey-Maratray believes that the abundance of these coins with their Greek legends, indicates military pay being given out here prior to 296. Thus, he proposes the date to be 289–296. This is a type of reasoning that goes beyond the contextual coin dating used in this study which would rather suggest a construction date of 25 years after the start date of the last coin in the foundation level, so 288–313, which is what I endorse here, for the sake of consistency. I would also use the start date, not the end date of the last coin to provide the TPQ for any calculations using C-M’s reasoning, so giving us a slightly narrower date range of 288–296. The ceramics from the site, do not give good indications, relating to the period of occupation, and dating to the end of the 4th or beginning of the 5th c.: D. Valbelle, “Le camp au moment de son abandon”, in the same volume (120–21) 120, with ceramics reports also included. 16AEG Nag al-Hagar: M. Mackensen, “The Tetrarchic fort at Nag al-Hagar in the province of Thebais: preliminary report (2005–8)”, JRA 22 (2009) 286–311, with

references to previous literature. There is a revised plan on p. 308 fig. 16, of which only one axial street is now confirmed as potentially having porticoes, although a second is possible. Dating evidence is on p. 300 and p. 309, which is an almost unworn stratified coin of AD 297/98 recovered from under the walls of the palace building, which is likely applied to the whole site, which as a unified plan, as well as the presence of Diocletian in the region in autumn 298. Furthermore, there is no pottery from the 2nd and 3rd c., only from the 4th to 7th c.: pp. 297–300.

B3 Forts with Some Planning (5th–6th C.)

11THR Troesmis (Scythia Minor): This site has not been scientifically excavated, although it saw campaigns focused mainly on epigraphy in the 19th and 20th c. A RomanianAustrian project led by C. Alexandrescu and C. Gugl began in 2011: http://www.oeaw.ac.at/antike/index.php?id=399 (last accessed July 2015) where a summary of the history of the site can be found, and which notes that surface finds date from the 2nd / 3rd c., through Late Antiquity into the Middle Ages. The site was mentioned in a catalogue of fortresses by Procop. Aed. 4.11.20, and by Hierocles, 637.12. See also A.S. Ştefan, in Actes du IX-e Congrès international d’études sur les frontières romaines, Mamaïa, 6–13 septembre 1972 (Bucharest 1974) pls. 15–17 (not seen); A. Barnea, “Le Dominat”, in La Dobroudja romaine, edd. A. Suceveanu and A. Barnea (Bucharest 1991) 184 nn. 135–36. We have a plan that seems to show the fort with churches in its 6th c. state: E. Desjardins, Voyage archéologique et géographique dans la region du bas Danube (RA New Series 17) (Paris 1868) pl. 9 for a plan from a survey of A. Baudry, after rough excavations in the 1860s, with comment on p. 259. Of street widths, hand-measured from the plan, we have streets often of ca. 2.5 m to 3 m in width, with some narrow gaps that appear to be only ca. 1 m to squeeze through, caused by secondary building or the demands of fortification gates. The streets seem to be best described as a formerly rectilinear system (not a grid), with some aligned streets, though with no insulae, that has been obstructed in places to produce a series of irregular alleyways, around its closely packed buildings. Two axial routes run through the fort, one fully east-west, the other north-south but only from the north gate to the centre of the fort. However, the number of open spaces in the centre of the fort means that these routes are not well defined, even if one appears to be decorated by a monumental arch. Of phasing and dating, the plan shows a number of features that suggest a development of the settlement over time: on the west side is a structure that appears to represent a temple (though it is extramural and may not be contemporary); on the east side there is a large tower, very unlike the others, which seems to block the East Gate; in the south-eastern part of the camp there is what looks

144 like a principia building that has been partly covered by a church; on the northern side are two streets that look to have been broken up, by misplaced buildings, from an originally-unified single street. Overall, I cannot offer a dating summary other than to say that the churches suggest a very complex street plan persisting into the 5th–6th c. Dating summary: Undated.

B4 Forts with No Planning (5th–6th C.)

Here a very basic summary, focused on dating, is offered, with reference only to summary literature. 11THR Iatrus: This fort witnessed a complex street sequence from planned to chaotic: G. von Bülow, “The fort of Iatrus in Moesia Secunda: observations in the Late Roman defensive system on the Lower Danube (fourth-sixth centuries A.D.)”, in The Transition to Late Antiquity on the Danube and Beyond, ed. A.G. Poulter (Proceedings of the British Academy 141) (Oxford 2007) 459–78, especially 463–72, which provides a summary of the site with references to specialist reports and plans of period A on p. 465 fig. 3, period B on p. 467 fig. 4, period C on p. 469 fig. 5 and period D1 on p. 471. I have not been able to obtain the most recent report of E. Schönert-Geiß, “Die Fundmünzen von Iatrus-Krivina (III)”, in Iatrus-Krivina, Band VI: Spatantike Befestigung Und Fruhmittelalterliche Siedlung An der Unteren Donau: Ergebnisse und Ausgrabungen 1992–2000, edd. G. von Bülow, B, Böttger and S. Conrad (Limesforschungen 28) (Mainz 2007) vol. 6 (not seen), cited as forthcoming by von Bülow (2007), for which I have no page nos. Of street widths, roughly hand-measured from the plan, the main street (at its eastern terminus) measures 12 m wide from back wall to back wall, with a roadway of 5 m and porticoes of 3.5 m each side, measuring from back wall to street side front of stylobate (here defined by pier bases, not a wall on the plan). Minor streets measure ca. 2.5 m to 3.5 m in width, with one narrowed by an apse to ca. 2 m. Of phasing, the site saw an initial plan (period A) of a single axial colonnaded street, leading from the gate to the principia, alongside other, sometimes straight, side streets of 4th c. date. These minor streets are usually aligned with each other when straight but (in the western section) not aligned to the main street, as far as we can tell from the excavated evidence. The regularity of these side streets was progressively eroded with each destruction and rebuilding. This began with period B, which was inaugurated by a reconstruction of the fort in the mid-4th c., when some parts of period A were completely levelled down to their foundations. In the early 6th c. the streets became chaotic in plan, when the main street was encroached and part of its north portico was converted into cellular rooms. Of dating, the foundation of the first phase of the fort is indicated by coin finds, as the site “… after more than

APPENDIX 1: B4 Forts with No Planning (5th–6th C.) twenty seasons of excavation, has produced 146 coins minted in the first quarter of the fourth century” plus earlier coins “twenty-four dating to the first Tetrarchy and another eleven minted during the reigns of Aurelian and Probus”: von Bülow (2007) (459–78) 463. G. von Bülow moots that this probably indicates that there was a settlement in the time of Aurelian and Probus, but it is more likely that this coinage was just still in circulation in the first quarter of the 4th c., which is the time from when most coins date. This peak distribution of coins allows us to suggest an associative date for the fort foundation of the first quarter of the 4th c. For further arguments on dating, which I will not use here, and the later history of the site see this same article, same page. Unfortunately, I was not able to scrutinise the dates of later phases from the documentation I was able to access. Dating summary (first phase): range 300–325, midpoint 312.5, class Cs3 (associative coins), publication 2/3 (for this summary article). 11THR Dinogetia: This site had a similar plan to Iatrus, with an axial north-west / south-east main road, leading from the main gate, though with no colonnading and no regularity in the alleyways beyond it. I. Barnea, “Dinogetia, une ville byzantine du Bas-Danube”, Vyzantina 10 (1980) 239–87 Of internal features, p. 249 notes that the main street was 4–5 m wide and paved in a mixture of little stones and brick fragments / pottery set in a layer of mortar, or set on the bedrock. Of phasing, its plan is often divided into three main chronological periods, based on the building materials of the walls: a 4th c. praetorium and fortifications, then 5th to earlier 6th c. internal buildings, and later 6th c. walls on a different plan, only known in fragments. See for example https://ro.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dinogetia#/media/ File:Dinogetia_Garvani-_layout.svg (last accessed July 2015). However, I have not seen any convincing argument to separate out the 4th to early 6th c. walls into separate phases, only to distinguish what was before and after the 6th c. destruction. Here we are concerned with the phase of 4th to earlier 6th c. date, before this event. Of dating for the primary phase, I have not been able to obtain enough reports to establish the stratigraphic basis for the refoundation of the fort to the time of Diocletian. However, brickstamps from the site include some of the Legio I Iovia Scythica created by Diocletian, and coins from the site suggest a major reoccupation in the late 3rd / early 4th c., with 46 coins inside a tower dug in 1939, including 42 ranging from the time of Aurelian (270–75) to Gratian (367–83): G. Ştefan, “Dinogetia I. Risultati della prima campagna di scavi (1939)”, Dacia 7–8 (1937–40) 408–10, 421. See also A. Barnea, “Garvăn-Dinogetia”, in Cronica cercetărilor arheologice din România, campania 2002 (Bucharest 2003) (not seen).

APPENDIX 1: B5 Bourgades without Street Planning (a Selection) Of dating for the post-destruction phase, see: I. Barnea, “L’incendie de la cité de Dinogetia au VIe siècle”, Dacia 10 (1966) 237–59 (fort plan, as then known, shown on p. 238 fig. 1). Page 253 has the latest coin in the destruction layer as being of AD 552–53. Pages 257–58 are a good review of dating evidence from the site, explaining that the walls without mortar are later than the destruction layer. On small fortresses of 5th–6th c. date without regular street systems in the Lower Danube region see V. Dinchev, “The fortresses of Thrace and Dacia in the Early Byzantine period”, in The Transition to Late Antiquity on the Danube and Beyond, ed. A.G. Poulter (Proceedings of the British Academy 141) (Oxford 2007) 479–546. Overall, given that coins might be in circulation for a quarter century after minting, I would accept an associative date of ca. 300 from the coins for the beginning of occupation on the site, supported by the associative finds of the brickstamps. However, it is not entirely clear how much of the street system dates from that time, although it is likely that most of the initial level of organisation does. The subsequent destruction provides a TAQ for this street pattern, which I could take as ca. 560, given the lack of coins in the destruction layers from after 553, but with the need to allow a further late antique phase, which has coins from 566 to 591–92: Barnea (1966) 257. Dating (of foundation of fort): ca. 300, class Cs3 (associative, finds), publication 3/3. Dating (of pre-fire occupation phase): range ca. 300–ca. 560, midpoint 430, class Cs3 (associative finds), Cs2 (catchall other, fire), publication 3/3.

B5 Bourgades without Street Planning (a Selection)

15ORI Shivta (Negev): This bourgade’s plan is partly known from aerial photo interpretation: A. Segal, Architectural Decoration in Byzantine Shivta, Negev Desert, Israel (BAR-IS 420) (Oxford 1988) 16–18 with illustration 3 (the plan). The site has very irregular streets with no alignment, dividing tightly packed buildings. The widths are usually ca. 4–5 m in width, although they are very irregular with some ‘pinch points’ of ca. 2 m or slightly less, from the rough plan I have. Of dating, we can note that the settlement has churches and at least one mosque: Segal (1988) 11–29, esp. 11 and 27 n. 13. No evidence of occupation is known in the first 4 centuries AD, only from the 5th to 8th c. AD. This is clarified by Y. Hirschfeld, “Social aspects of the late-antique village of Shivta”, JRA 16 (2003) (392–408) 396–96, who notes that the earliest known evidence of occupation is of the North Church built in the 4th c., whilst the mosque has Kufic inscriptions of the 8th / 9th c. For the church, see S. Margalit, “The North Church of Shivta: the discovery of the first church”, PEQ 119 (1987) 106–21, which sealed coins of the 4th c. AD in its first phase (pp. 111–120), providing a poor contextual date for its construction, in the absence of other

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materials. The inscriptions are in L. Di Segni, Dated Greek Inscriptions from Palestine from the Roman and Byzantine Periods (Ph.D. diss., Hebrew University Jerusalem 1997) 814–19 (not seen), cited by Hirschfeld (2003) 396. Overall, without details of the coins, I will give a TPQ for the site of 300, i.e. the beginning of the 4th c., and a TPQ of 900, derived from the mosque inscriptions, as the last dated element on site. Admittedly, given that the North Church is set slightly detached from the settlement, and the street network is so irregular, it is not easy to judge how much of the latter was in place at the time when the former was built. Dating summary (for street network): 300–900, midpoint 600, class Cs8 (contextual coins), Cs6 (TAQ, inscription in situ), publication 2/3. 15ORI Kfar Samir (‘Castra Porphyreion’) (Palestine): This bourgade is a model of irregularity: Z. Yeivin and G. Finkielsztejn, “Les rues du Bourg Byzantin de Kfar Samir (‘castra’; Porphyreon du Sud) à Haïfa, Israel”, in La rue dans l’Antiquite (Actes du colloque de Poitiers 7–9 Septembre 2006), edd. P. Ballet, N. Dieudonné-Glad and C. Saliou (Rennes 2008) 185–90 with site plan on p. 186 fig. 1. The settlement has streets that are highly irregular in width and in orientation, although there are straight sections of streets up to ca. 50 m or 70 m long in places. The report does not provide street widths, but I hand-measured them from their site plan, (which is fairly crude, using thick lines). My measurements noted streets with a maximum width of ca. 7 m and a minimum width of ca. 1 m, even for routes considered major streets by the excavators. There does not seem to be any street paving recorded, either in the article text, or its photos, e.g. p. 188 figs. 3–4. This site has been dated to the 4th–7th c. by the excavators, who do not state their reasons in this preliminary notice. By some minor streets there is a doorway so that the street could be closed as a whole: p. 187. Presumably the dating is based on not finding pottery or coins earlier or later than these dates. The streets serve a number of basilical churches, which the excavators describe in one case (north-east church) as being enlarged after an earthquake in the mid 6th c.: p. 186. The state of publication means I have nothing to evaluate this with. Dating summary: 300–700, midpoint 500, class 0, publication 1/3. 13ASI Viranşehir-Mokissos (Cappadocia): An unplanned settlement is sometimes identified with post-Justinianic Mocissus, although its date and name have not yet been confirmed by epigraphy: A. Berger, “Viranşehir (Mokisos), eine frühbyzantinische Stadt in Kappadokien”, IstMitt 48 (1998) 349–429. The survey plan with this article shows that the settlement has no street system at all, beyond its main through-routes, with just empty space, as in villages, defining the area between houses. The streets shown are

146 winding and unstructured, being generally around ca. 4 m to 5 m wide, sometimes a metre or two wider, measuring very roughly off the plan. The lack of excavation or ceramic survey of this site makes it difficult to date the street system. Dating summary: Undated.

B6 Bourgades with Some Planning

13ASI Arif (in Lycia): This bourgade is believed to have replaced Arykanda. For a plan, see M. Harrison (W. Young ed.), Mountain and Plain: from the Lycian Coast to the Phrygian Plateau in the Late Roman and Early Byzantine Period (Michigan 2001) 42. Of plan features, this site had a sub-rectangular system based around 5 parallel north-south streets, which led off the main east-west street. The width of the northsouth alley, away from the main road, is 3.4 m (Harrison (2001) 42), which judging from p. 40 fig. 30 seems to be the standard width of other roads on the site. The latter street seems colonnaded, as possible fragments of a stylobate were picked up by a survey: Harrison (2001) 43. Of dating, a 5th c. date is thought appropriate for Arif, based on the evidence of widespread reduction in occupation following a devastating fire of ‘430/40’ at adjacent Arykanda: Arykanda excavation team, pers. comm. 2006, with dating based on last finds, referred to briefly in C. Bayburtuoğlu, “Excavations at Arykanda 2005”, Anmed 4 (2006) (5–10) 8, 10 (coin finds run out in AD 420), but not referred to in the recent guide book: C. Bayburtuoğlu, The Place near the High Rocks. Arykanda. An Archaeological Guide (Istanbul 2005). Later preliminary reports in Anmed also refer to fire damage across Arykanda thought to be of a similar date. For a review of the coin evidence there is A.T. Tek, “The coins of Gordianus III found at Arykanda. Evidence for an earthquake relief fund in Lycia?”, in XIII Congreso Internacional de Numismatica, Madrid 2003 Actas vol. 1, edd. C. Alfaro-Asins, C. Marcos and P. Otero (Madrid 2005) (947–957) 951 n. 43, who notes that “The latest coins from the destruction layers at Arykanda” include “a single example of Theodosius II, VT/XXX/V (AD 435 AD) as RIC X, nos. 457–459; there are 43 examples of cross within wreath (ca. AD 425–435), RIC X, nos. 440–455 and surprisingly 4 examples of Valentinian III, VICTOR-IA AVGG (AD ca. 425– 435), from the mint of Rome, RIC X, no. 2132.” This could provide a TAQ of ca. 425 for the foundation of Arif. However, the date of Arif remains entirely hypothetical, as the city of Arykanda was not spoliated to build it: L. Lavan site observations confirmed by Arykanda team pers. comm. 2006. Thus, there might be a possibility that the two sites coexisted. The fortification walls of Arif (which Arykanda does not have) do however suggest that it belongs in a later period, whilst its basilical churches and especially its street plan suggest a period of Late Antiquity

APPENDIX 1: B6 Bourgades with Some Planning before the urban disruption begun with the decisive Persian invasion of 614. Dating summary (for Arif): range 425–614, midpoint 519.5, class Cs8 (contextual coins), Cs2 (catch-all other: theories of related site development), z (background regional), publication 3/3. 16AEG Trimithis (Amheida, in Egypt): This settlement (officially a city, but with no secular public monuments) had no grid but aimed for sub-rectangular alignments. Its roads are mainly alleyways, of less than 3.5 m wide, maintaining some regularity for the length of a few individual streets, leading from a main street of 4–5 m in width, which winds around the site. Here the buildings surveyed on site seem to be mainly 4th c., according to the pottery: P. Davoli, “Reflections on urbanism in Graeco-Roman Egypt: a historical and regional perspective”, in The Space of the City in Graeco-Roman Egypt: Image and Reality, edd. E. Subiás, P. Azara, J. Carruesco, I. Fiz and R. Cuesta (Tarragona 2011) (69–92) 83. Preliminary reports on http://www.amheida. org (last accessed May 2013) do not contain, so far as I can see, indications of the dating of stratified ceramics. Dating summary (for street layout): range 300–400, midpoint 350, class Cs3 (associative, finds), publication 2/3. Poor. 08PAN Dobrika (in Dalmatia): This is a bourgade in which the presence of a fortification creates an element of rectilinearity in the streets that would otherwise not be present: V. Begović and I. Schrunk, “Villa rustica u uvali Dobrika (Madona) na otočju Brijuni. The villa rustica in Dobrika (Madona) Bay on the Brijuni Islands”, Prilozi Instituta za arheologiju u Zagrebu 27 (2010) 249–66, esp. 262 with 261 fig. 6 (plan). The plan shows a street system of pseudo-rectilinearity, reflecting the surrounding square fortifications, but with no grid of any kind. Streets are of irregular width, of ca. 2.5 m to 3.5 m. The settlement has late antique churches and a fortification wall of ‘Byzantine’ style. It was built up around a villa after the 3rd c., when the site sees an increase in productive facilities (notably fullonicae). The dating evidence for the site is not fully published, as far as I can tell, but it apparently sees a larger quantity of African amphorae and African sigillata chiara pottery (i.e. ARS) from the 4th c., suggesting that this is when it changes from being a villa into a bourgade. I take this as an associative date, as no contextual details are provided. Dating summary: range 300–600, midpoint 450, class Cs3 (associative ceramics), publication 2/3. Generic late antique date. 16AEG Abu Mina: This is a large bourgade, bigger than some cities, for which we have the state of the settlement in the early 7th c., when it was possibly sacked by the Persians. A summary of the site as a new late antique settlement, containing no chronological information, is P. Grossmann,

APPENDIX 1: B7 Urban Street Systems, in Newly-Built Areas “Abu Mïnâ. Eine der letzten Städtegründungen der Antike”, in Stadt und Umland. Diskussion zur archäologischen Bauforschung, vol. 7, no named editor (Mainz 1999) 287– 93, with mention on p. 288 that the city wall was begun in the early 7th c., though why this is thought to be the case is not clear to me. Of internal features, the site has a loosely rectilinear street system including three colonnaded streets. There is a degree of street planning visible, in that local rectilinear alignments seem to have been set and maintained, with related colonnaded streets being composed of sections of around 150 m or a little more. However, many of the major buildings started out on different alignments, and the main monumental street especially has had to deviate from a straight course to adapt to this irregularity. The width of the north-south colonnaded street is ca. 13 m, including the porticoes, as it approaches the centre of the settlement, whilst the east-west and south-west colonnaded street are both ca. 16 m including the porticoes, as described in appendix C3. Minor streets on the site are not well-known, but one east-west route is ca. 6 m to 8 m in width, leading west from the main north-south street, whilst those leading east from the main street are ca. 4–6 m wide, handmeasuring from the plan of P. Grossmann et al., “Abū Mînā. 13 Vorläufiger Bericht, Kampagnen 1987–1989”, AA (1991) (389–423) 391 fig. 1 (the large grid squares represent 50 m, judging from other plans). Of phasing and dating, we have a TPQ for the earliest occupation; this date is derived from pottery (not published), which is of the late 4th c.: P. Grossmann pers. comm., correcting earlier work, cited in J. McKenzie, The Architecture of Alexandria and Egypt 300 BC–AD 700 (New Haven, Connecticut and London 2007) 290, 416 n. 137. The north-south and east-west colonnaded streets are both believed to be later 6th c. in date, due to their secondary relationship to the Pilgrim’s Court, of the mid-6th c. (itself dated to after the rebuilding of the Great Basilica after AD 475, based on unspecified ceramics). On the specific dating for the main church, its adjacent Pilgrim Square and the colonnaded streets that lead from it, see appendices S1 and C3. A generic TAQ for the whole site is derived from an early 7th c. destruction. The site was still growing, with an unfinished colonnaded street and city wall, when it was destroyed as “shown by numerous mounds of destruction layers throughout the town”: P. Grossmann et al., “Report on the excavations at Abu Mina in Spring 1993”, Bulletin de la Société d’Archéologie Copte 33 (1994) (91–104) 92–93, who attribute this to an otherwise undocumented sack by the Persians in AD 619, with references to literature discussing the Persian conquest of Egypt, but not to the destruction of Abu Mina. The north-south colonnaded street is incomplete at its northern junction with the North Gate,

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which itself lacks a guard room on one side: see p. 93. For a fire in the Justinianic church, which left traces of burning in part of the portico, on the outside-tribunal facing onto the Pilgrim’s Court: see P. Grossmann, Abu Mina, Band 1: Die Gruftkirche und die Gruft (Archäologische Veröffentlichungen 44) (Mainz 1989) 142. Overall, this dating evidence is not very strong. The initial ‘late 4th c. pottery’, dating the first occupation on site, should be considered credible, as some ceramic identification has been done on this site with the aid of J. Hayes and others, relating to the main church (as discussed in appendix S1). The dating of the streets is weaker, but depends upon creating building-phase hypotheses which are extended a very long way from the Great Basilica, where they can actually be related to stratigraphy and contextual ceramic evidence. The hypothesis of a site-wide destruction in 619 is very tenuous. Archaeological evidence of destruction has only been published in one case, even if it has been observed elsewhere on site. No ceramics or coins have been presented to justify this hypothesis, although they should exist in great quantities if a site-wide destruction did take place. There is nothing to justify a date of 619 so far published. A fire might have started for entirely different reasons. However, the destructive nature of the war with Persia, and the wars which followed (Aykelah, Islamic conquest) mean that a phase of monumental investment after 619 seems unlikely, and will be accepted here as a TAQ for building activity. One could further argue that the city wall would not have been permitted or encouraged after the Islamic conquest of Egypt, completed in 641. Dating summary (for whole site): range 385–619, midpoint 502, class Cs3 (associative finds), Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs3 (associative building phases), z (regional background), 2/3. Dating summary (for colonnaded streets, all later than the Pilgrim’s Court): range 475–619, midpoint 547, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs3 (associative building phases), z (regional background), publication 2/3.

B7 Urban Street Systems, in Newly-Built Areas

N.B. This is not a record of all urban expansion, but only those new areas of cities within which new streets were defined, or in which a planned street system is strongly suspected to have been established. 03GAL Tournai: In the cathedral quarter, excavations have revealed not a street system but rather buildings set on a different alignment, dating to Late Antiquity: see the overview by R. Brulet and C. Coquelet, “Tournai, Tournai”, in Les Romains en Wallonie, ed. R. Brulet (Brussels 2008) (368–79) 376–77 of three sites: (i) ‘St. Pierre’; (ii) ‘Place Paul-Émile Janson’ (no information published) from which new Late

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Roman buildings are known, apparently on a different alignment; (iii) La Loucherie, from which the late fortification is known. Of form we know little: the development seems to be part of a replanning of the settlement when its late fortification was constructed. Brulet and Coquelet (2008) 374–75 note a general phenomenon, inside the late fortifications, of levelling down of the Early Imperial buildings, above which the late antique buildings are constructed, surviving much better in their wall fabric, which also suggests a general replanning of the site. Of dating, we have two strands of evidence that I was able to obtain: (i) a TPQ for these developments can be derived from the site of St. Pierre. Here there is a gold coin of Constans from AD 342–43 from the foundation trench of a new building. (ii) A contextual date for the fortification comes from La Loucherie. Here the fortification covers destruction layers of the 3rd c., see: R. Brulet and L. Verslype edd., La place Saint-Pierre de Tournai. Archéologie d’un monument. Archéologie d’un quartier (Collection Joseph Mertens 13; Publications d’histoire de l’art et d’archéologie de l’Université catholique de Louvain 99) (Louvain-laNeuve 1999) 30; J. Mertens and H. Remy, Tournai. Fouilles à La Loucherie (Archaeologia Belgica 165) (Brussels 1974) 22–28, esp. 27 recording a destruction layer prior to the building of the fortification, containing coins from Philip I (244–47) to Claudius II (269) and imitation of Tetricius I (reigned 271–74 [not 270–74 as in the report]), whilst related layers (pits 81 and 82) contained coins of the later 260s and 270s, with ending coins of Tetricius II (of 272–74). Occupation layers cut by a trench, demolishing structures (likely for the fortification), contained a coin of Crispus (of 320–321) as well as terra sigillata decorated “à la molette” [likely Sigillata Argonne decorated “à la molette” 287.5–450+ Potsherd]. Fill of walls demolished from a large building contained coins of Claudius II (of 269), Diocletian (of 286) and Constantine (of 310–313): p. 28. The excavators suggest from this evidence a date in the end of the 3rd to the beginning of the 4th c. or the 2nd quarter of the 4th c., although the evidence they present, taken as a whole, suggests a contextual date of 25 years after 320, the start date of their last find relating to construction, so 320–45. This looks reasonable across all of the materials. A coin of Valentinian III comes from rubble piled up around the fortification, which is thought to relate to occupation, there being no trace of any medieval occupation (p. 28). Overall, I would suggest that the evidence from La Loucherie combined with the TPQ of St. Pierre indicates a range of 342–45 for the replanning, but it might have lasted longer than that, in other, unexcavated parts of the site. Dating summary: range 342–45, midpoint 343.5, class Cs8 (contextual coins), Cs7 (TPQ coin), z (background regional patterns), publication 3/3.

03GAL Paris: On the Ile-de-la-Cité, the street system of the late empire, and its related buildings, follows a new urban layout to that of the early empire, within an area of ca. 650 m by 200 m, defined by the late fortifications, with some roads perpendicular to the main north-south road and others bending to follow the river front, and probably to accommodate the putative palace at the west end of the island. A number of opportunistic sections have been recorded, in the later 19th and early 20th c., which are resumed in D. Busson, Carte archéologique de la Gaule: Paris 75 (Paris 1998) 414–15. The streets around the Basilique du Marché des Fleurs are the easiest to understand and access. The ‘basilica’ is a structure made of a great deal of spolia, that likely represents horrea, and was probably conceived as part of the same replanning. Two sections both revealed two road levels, relating to the Late Roman and post-Roman condition of two parallel east-west streets, on the north and south sides of the ‘basilica’ (actually probably horrea), on the north side of the Prefecture de police. Two other road sections have been uncovered elsewhere on the island, and others have been hypothesised. (i) On the north side of the ‘basilica’, on Rue Gervais Laurent, Th. Vacquer (in 1872), and then the Commision du Vieux Paris (in 1906) recorded an east-west street varying in height between 34.14 m to 34.40 m to 34.26 m ASL sloping downwards (towards the west), with a strongly curved section, 20–25 cm thick, composed of a layer of pebbles mixed with pure sand, which was almost olive in colour. Above this was a second crude road level, rising from 35.15 m in the east to 35.37 m in the west, composed of very dark earth mixed with unfixed small stones and some Roman tiles. Under the first road level were found some “fragment de poteries rouges guillochées de la fin du IVe siècle”, which Th. Vacquer thought dated between AD 340–90, though we do not have a modern assessment. (ii) On the south side of the ‘basilica’, on the Rue de la Vieille Draperie, three parts of an east-west street have been uncovered, only one of which has a description by Th. Vacquer. This was dug in 1879, at its western extremity, where the road joins the Boulevard du Palais. Here was an ancient floor, olive in colour, evidently beaten and stamped, with veins of pebbles and broken tiles, but apparently missing any signs of serious metalling, which might have been robbed away. Above this was a Merovingian level ‘at one metre from the paving’ [ancient or modern?] for which there are no published details: Busson (1998) 414–15. (iii) Another part of the same east-west street (next to the basilica), dug in 1844, revealed an Early Imperial road with different boundaries, of opus incertum, over which reused pieces of funerary monuments were laid, as if representing a late stone road paving: A. Lenoir, Statistique monumentale de Paris. Explications des planches (Paris 1867) 19–20 (concerning pl. 16).

APPENDIX 1: B7 Urban Street Systems, in Newly-Built Areas (iv) A final pertinent street comes from the old Rue des Marmousets, in the area of the new Hotel-Dieu, close to Notre Dame. Here a road was observed with an east-west alignment that seems to be a continuation of the east-west road on the south side of the basilica, into the eastern part of the island. No other details are known: Busson (1998) 434. (v) Other road alignments relating to the late replanning seem plausible, being based on late antique building alignments, such as that defined by the boundary of the ‘palace’, or that hypothesised as the main north-south axis lining up with the early 4th c. river bridge. However, these alignments lack observations of road sections within the Ile-de-la-Cité to back them up: Busson (1998) 434. Of internal features, it seems that the street system was rectilinear, the east-west streets aligned mostly at 90 degrees with the main north-south through route, which survived the period. However, the eastern continuation of the Rue de Marmousets (the Rue Chanoinesse, not dated) today seems to deviate from a grid, by switching alignment to take account of the riverside in its eastern course. More seriously, the alignment of the great spolia walls that define the exterior of the ‘palace’ enclosure, about 100 m to the west of the Basilique, prove that the grid of the late city was not composed of regular-sized insulae with perpendicular street angles: Busson (1998) 424. It was, rather, a rectilinear grid with both some perpendicular and some irregular angles. Of insula sizes, those within the 4th c. city were obviously irregular, and it is difficult to be certain of street widths. The only insula for which we have any certainty of size is that which made up the horrea, ca. 70 m east-west by 35 m north-south. Of surfaces, it seems from the above description that the 4th c. roads were either paved in new sandstone slabs (like the Cardo, as detected to the south of the Île de la Cité, see appendix C9a), in spolia slabs (like the Rue de la Vieille Draperie), or were in pebbles set in sand (like the more minor Rue Gervais Laurent), though it might be possible that here some of the surface was stripped and the surviving metalling was only a remnant. This variety provides a remarkable differentiation between the Cardo in new flags, defining it as the main street, the route to the palace area (Rue de la Vieille Draperie) in spolia slabs, and a minor road (Rue Gervais Laurent) in pebbles. Of phasing and dating, the best evidence for the street replanning on the island comes from its association with new buildings, which make copious use of funerary spolia, often inscribed: notably the ‘basilique’ (spolia of 1st to 3rd c. AD: Busson (1998) 415–16), the palace (Busson (1998) 424), and the fortification wall. These large-scale redevelopments, which do not seem to take account of earlier structures on the site, seem likely to have been constructed along with the streets, in a unified replanning of the island. The fortification is dated to between AD 308 (the dendro-date of a major wooden bridge serving the

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north-south Cardo at Rue de la Cité) and 360 (when Julian Misopogon 340D) mentions the wall and wooden bridges: Busson (1998) 402; Y. Trénard, D. Busson and S. Robin, “Découvertes récentes dans l’Île de la Cité à Paris: élaboration d’une courbe dendrochronologique de référence pour la région Île-de-France et ses applications aux datations du Cardo et du rempart du Bas-Empire”, Actes des journées d’archéologie d’Ile-de-France: paléo-environnement et actualités, Meaux, 16 et 17 mars 1991 (Mémoires du groupement archéologique de Seine-et-Marne 1 1993) (Nemours 1993) 63–71, esp. 66 (the date of the building must be 308 as the date of cutting of the youngest wood recorded is winter 307 or the beginning of 308, and building would not take place for foundations in the winter). Overall, we can imagine that the street system should be placed in the 4th c., within the dates suggested for the ‘enceinte’. It is likely that the whole development belongs at the start of the period, close to 308, as the construction of the bridge for the major north-south road suggests that a major investment was being planned for the island. Dating summary: range 308–360, midpoint 334, class Cs10 (scientific), x (historical text), Cs4 (reused building materials), Cs3 (associative, building phase), publication 3/3. 05ITA Ravenna (Eastern quarter): There was a replanning of the quarter on the east side of the city over a massive area, extending over ca. 1100 m by ca. 750 m. The resultant street grid is still theoretical in nature, as it has not been supported by the excavation of any late antique street surfaces. Rather, it depends on the tracing of major rectilinear streets that have survived until today, and on hypotheses stemming from the alignment of two monuments. However, replanning ‘in principal’ can be supported archaeologically: at Casa di Riposo G. Garibaldi (via di Roma 31, east side of the city, just south of S. Apollinare Nuovo) there are abandoned street levels at a depth of 4.4 m, which, according to surrounding stratigraphy, look like Early Imperial levels. Late Roman levels were set above these streets and did not use them. It has been suggested that this was part of a general replanning of the area in very large insulae, theoretically to take government buildings of the palace, circus and mint etc., after the arrival of the imperial court in 402: summary in V. Manzelli, Città romane 2: Ravenna (Atlante Tematico di Topografia Antica, Supplementi 8) (Rome 2000) 150, no. 113, with references to all the sites mentioned here. The hypothesis of the new street grid, with its straight roads defining insulae of irregular width, with slightly oblique angles is presented by E. Cirelli, Ravenna: archeologia di una città (Florence 2008) 68, fig. 45 and also on fig. 77 where the churches of the Gothic period are added, with their orientations. Cirelli reconstructs the plan of this new replanned palatial area, largely based on tracing extant major straight medieval streets, which link up to gates

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or with alignments onto which some Late Roman buildings are set. Here, I will give a bare-bones discussion, limited to the essential facts. (i) Firstly, the odd angles of the portal of the Late Roman Porta Wandalaria are set to allow an east-west road, running south of the palace, to pass through it: pp. 64–65 with fig. 41, with further references. (ii) Secondly, a major corner in the grid, which survives as two major streets today, is defined by the external wall of the 6th c. ‘Mint’ building: pp. 89–90. This perimeter wall of the complex is set at the junction of the main north-south road (platea maior, today via di Roma), which leads on to Classe to the south and out into the countryside to the north, and the main eastwest road (via porticata, today via Mario Gordini / Angelo Mariani / Giosuè Carducci). The presence of the ‘corner’ suggests that the alignment was there in Late Antiquity. The latter (east-west) route connects the old city to the palace area. (iii) Thirdly, an east-west route running parallel to the via porticata, to the south (following today’s via Guaccimanni Girotto) probably served the main palace entrance (which is revealed by the name of a church S. Salvatore ad Calchi): p. 79. (iv) Fourthly, to the north of the palace, a parallel road (today via Ugo Bassi) leading to the Porta Artemectoris / Tremedula in the Late Roman wall, may also date from this period: p. 69. Finally, Cirelli (2008) also hypothesises two roads on the west and north of the two main axes, one of which runs along the via Armando Diaz: p. 68, fig. 45. Cirelli points out that in no case have surfaces been recovered on either the north-south street or the main east-west street: pp. 67, 69. (v) Fifthly, piers relating to the ‘via porticata’, the major east-west street, were recovered in 2004–2005, though not yet published, at the via Mario Gordini: p. 69 n. 114; M.G. Maioli, “San Michele in Africisco nella Ravenna del VI secolo”, in San Michele in Africisco e l’età giustinianea a Ravenna: atti del convegno “La diaspora dell’arcangelo: San Michele in Africisco e l’età giustinianea”; giornate di studio in memoria di Giuseppe Bovini (Ravenna, Sala dei Mosaici, 21–22 aprile 2005), edd. C. Spadoni and L. Kniffitz (Milan 2007) (223–31) 229 fig. 54, provides a map, but points out that these piers relate to the late medieval state of the street. However, they do reveal an alignment likely to be a major ancient street, given its position in relation to the palace and bridges etc. Of internal features, we can say little. Of dimensions, based on the position of a possible portico at the Mint, and the medieval porticoes found on the ‘via porticata’, one can suggest a roadway width for the main east-west street of at least 6 m (drawing on the map above), although the ancient porticoes on the latter site might have been set further south. Width of Porta Wandalaria was ca. 4.95 m, measuring off the plan of N. Christie, “The city walls of Ravenna: the defence of a capital,

A.D. 402–750”, Corsi di Cultura sull’Arte Ravennate e Bizantina 36 (1989) (113–38) fig. 11. This is likely to represent the width of the roadway minus any sidewalks. Of the size of insulae, we can measure off the plan of Cirelli (2008) 68, fig. 45, which contains all the alignments proposed here. This is the minimum number of roads, giving some very large insulae. However, the hypothesis that there were very large buildings here, such as the palace, circus and mint, is a fair one. We can roughly measure, from this smallscale map, insula sizes from ca. 85–105 m by 330 m up to ca. 555 m by 280–330 m. Of dating evidence, we have to look to buildings that define parts of the street grid: (i) The Mint is dated to Late Antiquity on account of the construction technique of the foundations, in blocks of Istrian stone placed on oak beams (telai in the Italian text), seen in other 4th to 5th c. buildings in Ravenna: Cirelli (2008) 89–90, with references to problematic superficial reports for the ‘Mint’. (ii) The Porta Wandalaria is part of the first late antique phase of the fortifications, built of brick, with reused material, that incorporates the new palatial area inside the walls for the first time, as well as protecting the old city, but is earlier than a second brick phase that has a brick spacing similar to the baptistery of the Arians and San Vitale (the former built under Theoderic, the latter under Justinian): Cirelli (2008) 57–58, drawing on N. Christie and S. Gibson, “The city walls of Ravenna”, BSR 66 (1988) 156–97 and Christie (1989); S. Gelichi, “Le mura di Ravenna”, in Ravenna da capitale imperiale a capitale esarcale, Atti del XVII CISAM (Ravenna 2004) (Spoleto 2005) 821–40 (not seen). The fact that the walls incorporate the palatial area does make it likely they date to after 402, whilst the masonry suggests a date before the death of Theoderic in 526, who built the baptistery of the Arians. (iii) The extant ‘palace’ itself is not a new building, but was previously a suburban villa, so its orientation cannot be used as evidence for the later street grid: A. Augenti, “Theoderic’s palace in Ravenna: a new analysis of the complex”, in Housing in Late Antiquity, edd. L. Lavan, L. Özgenel, and A. Sarantis (Late Antique Archaeology 3.2) (Leiden, Boston and Cologne 2007) (425–53) 447–48. Overall, the only archaeological arguments to phase and date the streets seem to be their unified (if not uniform) design and their relationship to the walls and the Mint, which constituted elements of the ‘palace quarter’. The need to create a new quarter around the palace fits very well with the move of 402, providing a TPQ. We cannot be certain that the new area was not given new roads in the 4th c. before the palatial quarter was erected: certainly, the odd angle of the Porta Wandalaria suggests that the road it served was in place before the gate was constructed. However, given the nature of the imperial court and its needs, and other evidence for disruption, cited above, it is

APPENDIX 1: B7 Urban Street Systems, in Newly-Built Areas most likely that there was a total renewal. The Mint, which anticipates the main road junction, at least suggests a TAQ of 500 for the street network. Dating summary (for street system): range 402–500, midpoint 451, class x (historical text), Cs5 (catch-all masonry), Cs3 (associative, phase of development), publication 3/3. 05ITA Ravenna (suburb of Classe): Overall observations of the quarter: The creation of this quarter, with a series of new streets, is dated by the overwhelming presence of 5th–6th c. finds: M.G. Maioli, “Classe, podere Chiavichetta, zona portuale”, in Ravenna e il porto di Classe: venti anni di ricerche archeologiche tra Ravenna e Classe, ed. G. Bermond Montanari (Bologna 1983) 65–78. See also G. Montevecchi, Viaggio nei siti archeologici della provincia di Ravenna (Ravenna 2003) (not seen). The excavation of the part of the district around podere Chiavichetta has been expanded greatly in recent years, though so far only preliminary reports have been published on these new excavations, as far as I can see. For an overview, see for example A. Augenti ed., Classe. Indagini sul potenziale archeologico di una città scomparsa (Bologna 2011) 22–35. Bibliography is listed on pp. 107–108. Away from this excavation, the main streets of this new urban district can be hypothesised. However, the dimensions of the insulae cannot currently be known. Dating of the district: There is a lack of significant stratigraphy from the 1st and 2nd c., although the main road through the area had an Early Imperial antecedent (see below) and a Late Roman house has been found reused as the foundation of a furnace: Maioli (1983) 65, 74–75. The recent excavations by Augenti (2011) 22–35 confirm a 5th c. date for the beginning of the quarter based on ceramic finds and the establishment of churches here. I will not consider the churches, as their relationship to the street development is not certain. Further publication is needed for this dating to be confirmed. However, I have also been able to obtain a summary report focusing on the ceramics from building 6 of the excavations, undertaken in 2001, of which the initial phase was mid 5th c., which does confirm the suggestion that the district was established in the 5th c. This date is based on ceramics, such as tableware C5 from central Tunisia [a group of ARS in which several of the following wares belong], Hayes 84 and 85 [ca. 440–500 LRP and 450–500 respectively in LRP], as well as Hayes 76 and Hayes 81b [ca. 425–75 LRP and 440–500 LRP] and amphora LRA 1 [350–650 RADR; narrow-necked 350–650 RADR; classic 400–650 RADR], LRA 2 [312.5–650 RADR] and LRA 3 [two-handled is 387.5–?600 RADR], plus LRA 4 [300–700 RADR] and LRA 5/6 [LRA 5 is 0–750 and LRA 6 is 212.5–700+ RADR], plus Keay 62 [500–600/612.5 Bon with one variant to 650] and Keay 26 [387.5–450 Bon] and Keay 52 [350–700 RADR]: A. Augenti, E. Cirelli, M.C. Nannetti, T. Sabetta,

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E. Savini, and E. Zantedeschi, “Nuovi dati archeologici dallo scavo di Classe”, in La circolazione delle ceramiche nell’Adriatico tra tarda antichità e altomedioevo: III incontro di studio CER.AM.IS, edd. S. Gelichi and C. Negrelli (Mantua 2007) (257–296) 257, 261–70. Overall, until further pottery is published, I will take the date of the establishment of the quarter only from building 6. Here the absence of contextual information that might allow us to distinguish between construction and occupation deposits is disconcerting, as is the discordance in date between the fine wares and some of the amphorae. However, the finewares are perhaps a better identifier of initial occupation, as they perhaps relate better to everyday life whereas amphorae could represent specialised trading occupation. For these reasons I will take the finewares as providing an associative date for the start of occupation, of 425–500. I use this information to support a poor phase of development date for the whole district. The subsequent phase of the building, which saw a major raising of the floor level and alterations to the structure, is given as of the end of the 5th to mid-6th c., which seems correct given the TPQ provided by Keay 62 in the first layer: Augenti, Cirelli, Nannetti, Sabetta, Savini, and Zantedeschi (2007) (257– 296) 257, 261–70. Porticoed street (street A): In the ‘podere Chiavichetta’ area, on via Marabina, a dig of 1974 uncovered a major porticoed street, paved with trachyte, which was traced for 500 m, although undoubtedly it extended over a wider urban area. Of porticoes, in the excavated area, there were porticoed buildings, rather than porticoes, lining the roadsides. These were not systematic unifying colonnades on the north side, although on the south side a unifying portico does seem to be present, with a common rear wall: for a summary see V. Manzelli, Città romane 2: Ravenna (Atlante Tematico di Topografia Antica, Supplementi 8) (Rome 2000) 183–86, no. 163. Of paving and dimensions, the interim report of Maioli (1983) 67–69 describes a concave road surface 5 m wide paved in trachyte, set in pure sand of ca. 50 cm thick, with a row of bordering slabs set vertically to make a border ca. 15 cm high, except where buildings or side streets needed to access the road: Maioli (1983) 67. Of earlier road surfaces, the surface underneath the trachyte (outside Building 4 and Building 5) with coins of the end of the 5th to the mid-6th c., was a brick and ceramic battuto which overlay 4 other road surfaces of the same type, each separated by about 15 cm. Underneath this was found a street surface of cocciopesto, which based on typological parallels, was thought to be Early Imperial (‘epoca romana’). Of use, in the surface of the trachyte slabs (which are not described as being reused), there are many wheel-ruts (of ca. 10–12 cm in width): Maioli (1983) 68. A photo of the

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ruts on V. Neri, “Verso Ravenna capitale: Roma, Ravenna e le residenze imperiali tardo-antiche”, in Storia di Ravenna 1: l’evo antico, ed. G. Susini (Venice 1990) (535–84) 542 shows that the ruts are set around 2.5 m apart (measuring from the outer edges), a little off the centre of the road in one set, suggesting that traffic was one way, despite there being room theoretically for two vehicles. Of road repairs, the ruts have been filled in places with broken bricks (residui laterizi), which have also been used to fill the spaces between the slabs where they were too wide, or where slabs were missing: Maioli (1983) 68. Of drains / sewers, there are 2 systems, the first mid6th c. and the second later. Drains lay under the paving, which served the mid-6th c. trachyte road surface. These were blocked and replaced by a new system (drain 4) that cut across and through the road paving. This drain 4 was covered with reused slabs of diverse origin (including red marble, Apennine stone). This cover was lower than the trachyte surface and so was probably itself covered by a layer of trachyte blocks that were spoliated: Maioli (1983) 68–69. Of dating, the brick and ceramic battuto should be dated associatively to the end of the 5th to the mid-6th c. on account of its coins, which given the nature of the surface may have been trampled in as use finds. The construction time of the trachyte road surface can be calculated from the coins found in the sometimes wide cracks between the paving stones, which are not carefully jointed. These coins are mid-6th c. onwards (until the late 7th / early 8th c.), whilst those from an earlier battuto road surface (outside Building 4 and Building 5) beneath the paving stones have produced coins of the end of the 5th to the mid-6th c. This information sets the construction date of the road in the mid-6th c., whilst those from an earlier battuto road surface (outside Building 4 and Building 5) beneath the paving stones (concave, of brick fragments and ceramics) have produced coins of the end of the 5th to the mid-6th c. A recent sondage under the street apparently puts the trachyte phase in the time of Justinian (on account of a coin of the Gothic king Athalaric, reigned 526–34, in the supporting layer): G.P. Brogiolo and S. Gelici, La città nell’alto medioevo italiano. Archeologia e storia (Bari 1998) 81. Although it is not spelled out in reports, the extant porticoes likely date from the same time as the new road surface, given their functional relationship to it. We have no information on the date of the brick fragments between the slabs and in the wheel ruts. As I do not have details of the late 7th / early 8th c. coins, I take the end of their full range as providing a weak contextual TAQ for the road construction. Other streets within this system (4): (i) On the east side of street A are two streets running perpendicular to it. The first street has a lower road surface of unstated materials with a brick drain that corresponds to drain 2 of

main street A, which goes under and is part of the initial drainage of the mid-6th c. trachyte paving. The upper road surface, which thus must be later than the mid-6th c., is paved in brick fragments and a battuto of ceramic fragments. It contains a drain of tubes: Maioli (1983) 74. (ii) The second street running perpendicular to street A is covered in building rubble, mainly bricks. (iii) On the other side of the canal lining street A (on the island) is a minor road running parallel with it, which measures 4.5 m in width. It is very round in section, composed of small trachyte blocks irregularly set at the borders, without wheel-ruts or drains, which suggested to the excavator that it was intended for foot traffic only: Maioli (1983) 66. It is perhaps likely to be part of the same system as street A (mid-6th c.), being the last phase of street repair, and being in a quarter not occupied until the 5th–6th c., as noted above. (iv) A possible secondary street, leading off this road (only partially excavated, so not certainly a street) was composed of irregular fragments of bricks: Maioli (1983) 67. Dating summary (for establishment of district and its buildings): range 425–500, midpoint 462.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), 8 (associative phase of development), publication 3/3. Poor. Dating summary (road surface of brick and ceramic battuto, before the trachyte): range 487.5–550, midpoint 518.75, class Cs3 (associative, finds), publication 2/3. Dating summary (trachyte road surface with drain and porticoes): range 526–550, midpoint 538, class Cs8 (contextual coins), Cs7 (TPQ coin), publication 2/3 (though I was not able to access the details of post-mid-6th c. coins). Dating summary (for repair to drain and road surface): range 526–?, undated, Cs7 (TPQ coin), publication 2/3. 05ITA Ravenna (suburb of Caesarea, between Ravenna and Classe): Two new minor streets were established sometime in or after the 3rd c. AD, being paved with brick in grey mortar and brick fragments. One of these streets was subsequently paved with trachyte slabs in the 6th c. It does not seem to be possible to define any insula sizes. (1) EdilRomea s. r. l., viale G. Galilei (south side of city, in Caesarea): The excavation in 1995 revealed an Early Imperial road 7.5 m wide with a brick surface, orientated south-east / north-west, with repair that included a brick stamp of Septimius Severus. This road was replaced by a new road, also with a brick surface, on a different alignment, of which no width dimensions are given in the summary I was able to access. The TPQ of Severus (AD 193–211) and heavy use-wear of wheel-ruts might tempt one to think it is late 3rd c. or perhaps 4th c. This road was covered by a new surface of bricks in grey mortar, and then by trachyte slabs, set in a sandy lime, about which there is no detail on the style of paving fit. This last phase has been attributed to the 6th c. based on ceramics recovered from the grey lime layer, notably African-type lamps both of local production

APPENDIX 1: B7 Urban Street Systems, in Newly-Built Areas and imported varieties: summary in V. Manzelli, Città romane 2: Ravenna (Atlante Tematico di Topografia Antica, Supplementi 8) (Rome 2000) 182, no. 161, with references to ‘grey literature’ on p. 182, n. 723. It is also summarised in A. Augenti et al., “Elementi archeologici”, in Classe. Indagini sul potenziale archeologico di una città scomparsa (Bologna 2011), ed. A. Augenti (Milan 2011) 125 no. 11.2. See also G. Montevecchi and M. Pompili, “Ravenna, viale Galilei”, Archeologia dell’Emilia Romagna 1/2 (1997) 93–95 (not seen). As I am not able to chase up the references, I take the ceramics as providing an associative date range of the full 6th c. for the trachyte surface. The previous brick surface has a TPQ of 193 from the brick stamp of Severus and a TAQ of the end date of the trachyte surface. (2) Banchina, via Panfilia at the junction with via Simeto: the street is made up of brick fragments which overlie some 3rd c. AD sarcophagus fragments and lean against a quay that is dated to the 5th to 6th c., on the basis of unspecified finds. The reported relationship of the brick layers to the quay suggests that they are secondary to it. However, the absence of any later reported activity suggests that it is reasonable to give an associative date of 5th to 6th c. for the brick roadway. Summary in Manzelli (2000) 187, no. 166 with bibliography in n. 749 (grey literature) and reference “M.G. Maoli (1987) 557”, which I was not able to identify from the photocopies I had. The width of the street does not appear to be known, as far as the summary of Manzelli makes clear. Other streets in Classe are listed by Manzelli (2000) and Augenti et al. (2011), but without dating evidence relating to Late Antiquity. Overall, the evidence is not very strong in dating the establishment of the district, but Late Antiquity is plausible given the expansion of both eastern Ravenna (402–500) and Classe (440–65), which this district links. As a result I will give it a date based on this wider phase of site development. Dating summary (for establishment of district): range 402–600, midpoint 501, class z (site development), publication 2/3. Dating summary (bricks in grey mortar roadway): range 193–600, midpoint 396.5, class Cs7 (TPQ inscription), Cs3 (associative, finds), publication 2/3. Dating summary (trachyte slabs): range 500–600, midpoint 550, class Cs3 (associative, finds), publication 2/3. Dating summary (brick fragments roadway): range 400–600, midpoint 500, class Cs3 (associative, finds), publication 1/3. 07AFR Sitifis (Sétif): Février excavated a part of the city in which a new urban quarter was laid out with a regular orthogonal street pattern during the second half of the 4th c. AD, which was traced over an area of ca. 95 m by 100 m (north-south to east-west), though not all of this was

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excavated: P.-A. Février, Fouilles de Sétif: les basiliques chrétiennes du quartier nord-ouest (Paris 1965). Of internal features, measuring from Février’s plan of the quarter (fig. 4), the streets seem to have been 5 m wide, the rectangular insulae ca. 54 m north-south (or perhaps more as the road is not confirmed on the south side) by 17 m to 22 m east-west, measured from the external walls. Roughly square insulae are shown elsewhere in the city on: R. Guéry, La nécropole orientale de Sitifis (Sétif, Algérie), fouilles de 1966–1967 (Etudes d’Antiquités Africaines) (Paris 1985) fig. 2. Of phasing and dating, Février (1965) 146 noted buildings on site that were destroyed in the mid-3rd c., and at the end of the 3rd / beginning of the 4th c. However, there were no buildings of 2nd c. date. In general, traces of occupation prior to the 4th c. were thin (no finds are cited to support these dates). A sondage by the rampart revealed a levelling layer for a house, after which the road and rampart were constructed. From a ditch anterior to this house came a coin of Julian (the ‘Apostate’) as Caesar (of AD 355), plus coins of Constantine and Constantius. So the rampart and roads (here a decumanus) must date to sometime after AD 355 (p. 146 note 3). Thus, Février took AD 355 as a TPQ for the quarter, and AD 378 as the TAQ, as Christian ‘Basilica A’, which blocks a Cardo and covers part of its houses, must date to before this: funerary inscriptions from around this church (p. 148) attest to the installation of a cemetery here by this date. The church was certainly built by AD 378, when the first funerary inscriptions are known (probably pp. 78–79 nos. A17 and A19, which are both in ‘anno pr(ovinciae) CCCXXXVIIII’ = AD 378). Basilica A is also posterior to the appearance of ARS D, as discussed by Février (1965) 146–47, with also 140–43. Furthermore, adjacent to Basilica A there are houses (that seem to have been conceived in plan at the same time as the church) with a foundation layer (layer 3) that contained coins of Constantius [II?] and Valentinian I: Février (1965) 119 with section GH on fig. 17 and fig. 5 showing the position of the section. Another church, Basilica B has a funerary inscription of CCCL = AD 389 (p.10:105 B47). Dating summary: range 355–78, midpoint 366.5, class Cs7 (TPQ inscription), 5 TAQ (inscription), Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs8 (contextual coins), publication 3/3. 07AFR Carthage: The northern side of the city saw a minor extension of the existing street grid north of Decumanus 6N in the early 5th c., in the area between the Damous elKarita basilica and the sea, mainly with street surfaces of battuto, beaten earth and other alternatives to the paving seen elsewhere in the city. Quite how much of this area was developed with roads and buildings is unclear. The excavation result we have only suggests the occupation of just one more decumanus line, for a width of 6 cardines (so ca. 250 m). The area was excavated by Canadian

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and Italian teams of the Save Carthage campaign. The Canadians initially believed that they had discovered a new part of Carthage, not previously occupied. However, in the final articles on this unpublished excavation, the Canadian team admit that the Decumanus 6N was part of the design of the Augustan city (as it directly overlies a Punic mosaic) and that the Cardines 4W and 5W existed prior to the construction of the 2nd c. odeon over them: C.M. Wells and M.B. Garrison, “A bath complex on the Odeon Hill at Carthage”, in Roman Baths and Bathing. Proceedings of the First International Conference on Roman Baths and Bathing, held at Bath, England 30 March–4 April 1992 (JRA Supplementary Series 37) (Portsmouth, R.I. 1999) (303–17) 306. This means that, at most, we are dealing with an intensification of occupation in this part of the city in the early 5th c., with the renewal of roads. It is no longer possible to talk of an urban expansion into this area, of the type seen at Sitifis. This new occupation on Decumanus 6N can be observed in 3 places. Intersection of Decumanus 6N and Cardo 4W: The preliminary analysis of the pottery excavated by the Canadian team suggested that the road [probably meaning Cardo 4W] and the associated street frontage were first created in the 5th c. AD: S. Ellis, “Excavations in the Canadian section”, CEDAC Carthage 6 (1985) 21–22. This date is repeated in C.M. Wells and E.M. Wightman, “Canadian Excavations at Carthage, 1976 and 1978: the Theodosian Wall, Northern Sector”, JFA 7.1 (1980) (43–63) 57, who note that the surface was made of irregular cobbles, implanted into clay, with red clay beneath. There was a line of paving stones along each edge, partially paving the surface, which was only 2.5 m wide, with a drain / water channel running under the southern side slabs. The road, which respected existing structures in the area, was subsequently widened to the disadvantage of the adjacent baths, and a drain / water channel was also provided on the north side. The site of this encroachment is site no. 3 in H. Broise, “L’Évolution des insulae des maisons du cryptoportique et de la rotonde dans le contexte urbain”, in Carthage, colline de l’Odéon. Maisons de la rotonde et du cryptoportique (Recherches 1987–2000), vol. 2, edd. C. Balmelle, A. Bourgeois, H. Broise, J.-P. Darmon, and M. Ennaïfer (CEFR 457) (Rome 2012) (333–59) 345 fig. 384 no. 3 with p. 346. It is notable that a cardo adjacent to this site was not found in its expected location, but 5 m east of its theoretical line, apparently respecting a wall connected to the baths: C.M. Wells and E.M. Wightman, “Carthage, northern section: the Theodosian Wall, 1979 excavations”, Echos du Monde Classique / Classical News and Views 24.1 (1980) (11–18) 17. However, later excavations by the same team, at the same intersection of Decumanus 6N and Cardo 4W presented a very different chronology: Wells and Garrison (1999). In this article, the excavators anticipate that the

street frontage dated from ca. 200, the date of the construction of the adjacent Odeon, and that the massive perimeter wall removed earlier road surfaces from the cardo (pp. 309– 11). They then note an encroachment onto the Decumanus 6N of 1.65 m, by the construction of a new exterior wall in phase 2. The latest datable ceramics from a layer between floors of phase 2 and phase 3 date to the mid-4th c., which the excavators believe provides a TAQ for phase 2 (p. 313). They subsequently speak of the perimeter wall being robbed in phase 4 (p. 316), and that this belongs sometime in the early 5th c., without providing details [though it may be based on the date of the adjacent fortification]. The site was then used as a dump, producing fill with pottery “so preponderantly of the first quarter of the 6th c., that it is likely that this is the date of the abandonment”. Theoretical intersection of Decumanus 6N and Cardo 6W (trench 2CC8): Here, the decumanus was off its expected alignment slightly, because it was only 5 m wide, which pushed its centre off-line. It has a large vaulted drain similar to that seen on the main site that is dated to the early 5th c. (based on contextual ceramic dating of layers it cuts and on being put out of use by the historically attested Theodosian Wall of 425), so the road was likely in place by this time: Wells and Wightman (1980) 11, 17, with appendix C11. Bab el Rih: At this site, 40 m south of the projected line of Decumanus 6N, next to the Cardo Maximus, Italian excavations (Area IVA) demonstrated increased activity, with street layers covering the road paving found outside the city (i.e. its ‘urban boundary’ road, which in other places is Decumanus 6N), and artisanal occupation, from the end of the 4th to the 5th c. AD, before being abandoned after the construction of the Theodosian wall, which put it outside the city: A. Carandini, L. Anselmino, C. Panella, C. Pavolini and R. Caciagli, “Gli scavi italiani a Cartagine: rapporto preliminare delle campagne 1973–1977”, QAL 13 (1983) (7–61) 14 with 52–56, with p. 54 noting late 4th and early 5th c. unspecified ceramics coming from the street layers over the road paving, with one sherd possibly dating from AD 450 onwards, although the dating of this piece was quite uncertain. The Theodosian wall is well-dated to AD 425, by both the Gallic Chronicle of 452, 98 (AD 425) (MGH AA 9.658) and a range of excavations. In this district, the latest finds coming from the Italian excavations relating to the wall in sector IIIA (from the wall’s foundation trench, or from the mortar of the wall itself) are from the first decades of the 5th c., whilst sector IVA produced coins of the House of Valentinian and of the 4th–5th c. plus a piece of unspecified ARS datable to the 5th c. (as well as cutting levels with finds of the late 4th to early 5th c.): A. Carandini, L. Anselmino, C. Panella, C. Pavolini and R. Caciagli, “Gli scavi italiani a Cartagine: rapporto preliminare delle

APPENDIX 1: B7 Urban Street Systems, in Newly-Built Areas campagne 1973–1977”, QAL 13 (1983) (7–61) 45, 55–57. British excavations elsewhere along the fortification revealed that “the wall itself was cut into a ground level … containing eight fourth-century coins and a quantity of pottery of that date; a further three fourth-century coins were found in the body of the wall. The latest of these coins is of Honorius, giving a terminus post quem of AD 400/423 …”: H. Hurst, “Excavations at Carthage 1976. Third interim report”, in Antiquaries Journal 57 (1977) (232–61) 255, confirmed by H.R. Hurst and S.P. Roskams, “Interpretation and chronology”, in Excavations at Carthage: the British Mission. Vol. 1.1. The Avenue du President Habib Bourguiba, Salammbo: the Site and Finds other than Pottery, H.R. Hurst and S.P. Roskams (Sheffield (1984) (13–27) 16, who mention also a late 4th to early 5th c. life-size marble portrait head was found in the wall, considered later in the volume, but for which independently dated parallels are not made very clear in the study by A. Claridge, “Monumental sculpture: a Late Roman portrait head”, in the same volume, pp. 213–15. Overall, only the third site, of Bab el Rih, seems to offer the clear dating, for any late intensification of occupation here, based on unspecified ceramics of late 4th to early 5th c. date being treated as associative finds, and the Theodosian Wall of 425 as a TAQ. Dating summary (for the establishment of the urban area in the Italian excavations): range 387.5–425, midpoint 406.25, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), x (historical), publication 2/3. 10MAC Athens (outside of the Herulian Wall): The construction of a district of large houses in the 4th c., on the Areopagus, outside of the Herulian Wall, reused the line of a pre-existing road, which was narrow and winding and only as wide as 3 m in places. This was surprising, as there was then an opportunity to replan the area, after it had been depopulated following the mid-3rd c. urban crisis: A. Frantz, The Athenian Agora, xxiv: Late Antiquity A.D. 267–700 (Princeton 1988) 38, 47, with pl. 27a for a map. Of dating, Frantz presents a discussion that rewrites what was available in previous reports on the area. She arranged for J. Hayes, to re-examine the pottery, much of which was originally listed in H.S. Robinson, The Athenian Agora, vol. V: Pottery of the. Roman Period: Chronology (Princeton, N.J. 1959) 125–26. Frantz provides new dating based on his revised observations, but does not name the specific types of pottery that Hayes has recognised. She notes the following chronological information: (i) House A was dated by sherds “from the second half of the 4th century” from an “undisturbed fill” into which the apse of the house was set. Pottery of the “second half of the fourth century” also came from a lime-slaking pit 3 m away from the same apse, which might have been involved in its construction: Frantz (1988) 47 plus pl. 41 for a lamp from this pottery group. (ii) House B revealed a layer of stones separating a

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“pre-Herulian” layer from one beginning in the late 4th c., which should represent the period of abandonment of the quarter. Then the west service courtyard provided continuous fill from the end of the 4th / beginning of the 5th c. until the early 6th c. These dates were “all provided by John Hayes”, which presumably means they were based on analysing African Red Slip ware and related Late Roman ceramics: Frantz (1988) 47. (iii) House C produced pottery under the floors of two rooms off the east side of the peristyle and from fill dumped behind the exterior south wall during construction, which gave a date of the “second half of the 4th century”: Frantz (1988) 48, based (for House C only) on T. Leslie Shear Jr., “The Athenian Agora: excavations of 1971”, Hesperia 42 (1973) (121–79) 159–60, with p. 160 nn. 86–87, who does not provide further details of the street, beyond showing its extent on p. 157 fig. 6, and does not cite specific pottery types. Overall, the pottery cited can give a contextual date for the construction of the houses, but we must use their full date range, of the second half of the 4th c., as individual ceramic types, which might suggest a tighter dating, are not specified. Dating summary: range 350–400, midpoint 375, class Cs9 (contextual ceramic), publication 2/3. 10MAC Gortyn (south-west quarter): Di Vita claimed in the early 1980s that there was a planned urban quarter with 2 north-south streets and 3 east-west streets (6.6 m wide), paved and apparently orthogonal (“following the Roman street system”), in the south-west of Gortyn, from the 4th c. onwards, in an area that had been empty of occupation for several hundred years: A. Di Vita, “Due nuove basiliche Bizantine a Gortina”, in Actes du Xe Congrès International d’Archéologie Chrétienne. Thessalonique 1980, vol. 2: Communications (Vatican City 1984) (71–80) 71–73; A. Di Vita, “Gortina”, in Creta antica. Cento anni di archeologia italiana, 1884–1984 (Rome 1984) (69–116) 104–105. The two areas that have produced excavated evidence to support this are ca. 150 m apart in the south-west of the city, on the road towards Mitropolis, as shown on the map of A. Di Vita, “Atti della scuola”, ASAtene 72–73 (1994–95) (335–431) 459, fig. 20. In sector ‘I’ (cut by modern development Chandax 1978), a north-south paved street has been excavated leading to two basilical churches of the 6th–7th c., and also an east-west paved street on one side of the same basilicas. North-south street in sector I: This street was the subject of two sondages. These excavations revealed a drain of the later 6th to early 7th c., which is likely the time when the road was established here; the drain was repaired in the 7th c., when it was covered by slabs. These slabs had likely been reused from the later 6th c. road: N. Allegro, “Il settore I. Campagne di scavo 1979–1980”, in Gortina VI. Scavi 1979–1982, ed. A. Di Vita. (Padua 2004a) 277–307. The north-south street was 2.6 m and 2.8 m wide, reaching 3 m

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at a crossroads, and was excavated for a length of 12.8 m: Allegro (2004a) 278. Sondage ‘Fogna I 36’ revealed the details of the drain, ca. 35–48 cm wide and ca. 1 m high, covered with big square blocks of whitish limestone, running down the centre of the street: see especially p. 285 with fig. 7 and p. 290 fig. 11a–c. The drain had been rebuilt in places. The two phases can be dated broadly by the distinct dates of different silts found within the drain, and especially the two gravelly drain floors of each phase. Of the first phase, the lower drain floor contains 6th c. pottery and also ARS D Hayes 99B [525–612.5 Bon] and Hayes 105 [587.5–700 Bon] and LRC Hayes 10A [570– 612.5 Atlante], which the excavator noted could reach the first decades of the 7th c., along with coins of Justinian (reigned 527–65) and Justin II (565–78). The lower silt (filling the first drain) contains LRC Hayes 10C given as of the first half of the 7th c. [600–650 Atlante], plus a coin of Justin II [565–74]. We do not have any directly recorded details of the related street surface in this phase, even if it is likely to be similar to that which followed. Of the second phase, the road slabs over the drain included three of the same limestone as that used in the cover of the drain (though of smaller dimensions), suggesting that the relaying of the street slabs was part of the same operation as the drain below. The spaces between the slabs, especially around the borders of the street, were filled (at the same time as the slabs were put down) with a very compact battuto of tiny gravel and little fragments of terracotta, cemented with earth and in a few places with a little mortar. The excavator thought that the careful laying of the slabs in the centre of the road was to ensure that the drain beneath was sealed properly: Allegro (2004a) 282. Supporting the slabs was a layer containing, alongside 4th–6th c. finds, a fragment of ARS D Hayes 109 [587.5– 712.5 Bon] and two fragments of bowls of LRC Hayes 10C [600–650 Atlante] and a follis of Constans II (dating from AD 643–44), suggesting a mid-7th c. date: Allegro (2004a) 282. The rebuilt upper drain floor contains as its latest ceramics material given in the report as being of 7th c. date, including a probable imitation of ARS D Hayes 105 [Hayes 105 is 587.5–700 Bon], plus LRC Hayes 10C [600–650 Atlante]. It also contains fragments of amphorae of local, Aegean, Syro-Palestinian and African production, given as from the same period. The upper silt (filling the second drain) contains in the first layer a follis of Constans II, dating to just after the mid-7th c., and in the very top layer a coin of the reign of either Anastasius II, dating to the second decade of the 8th c. [reigned 713–15] or Theodosius III [715–17]. Of the third phase, a water pipe was subsequently established along the street, made out of spatheia amphorae [387.5–700 Bon]: Allegro (2004a) 287–91, esp. 288.

Of the fourth to seventh phases, the street’s slab-surface level was covered in 4 rudimentary surfaces dating to after the mid-7th c. repair of the sewer, but before the collapse of the surrounding walls: (i) the first (from the bottom up) was of compact earth with stones, gravel, fragments of tiles and bricks, wall plaster and red mortar plus a few animal bones; (ii) the second was of stones, badly connected little slabs, fragments of brick and tile all mixed with gravel and earth; (iii) the third was of grey earth mixed with little pieces of tile, gravel and a few pebbles, fragments of ceramics and a few animal bones, in which the latest find is an amphora of north-Aegean type, dated to the end of the 6th / 7th c.; (iv) the fourth was a battuto / ‘calpestio’ of compact grey earth with tiny stones and pieces of tile and brick. These surfaces were mainly concentrated in the centre of the street, as if their intention was to raise the crown in order to permit better drainage: Allegro (2004a) 280–82. Of the eighth phase, the debris from the collapse of the surrounding walls sealed all of these layers. It contained as its latest finds sherds of locally produced amphorae (nos. 280,282), alongside an Aegean amphora (no. 291, related to group Agora V, M272 / Keay LXV / Kuzmanov XIX / LR2 / Scorpan VII.2, given as dating from the end of 5th to 7th c. [M272 = Amphora LR 2is 312.5–650 on RADR]), Syro-Palestinian LR 1 / Kellia 3.164 (no. 300/01) [LR 1 is 350–650 RADR], African (spatheion) (no. 310/1) [387.5–700 Bon]; possible African (small format) (no. 314/1), ARS D (no. 145) Hayes 105 / Atlante I p. 96 [300–700 DCAMNO], and LRC (no. 171) Hayes 3C [440–90 LRP]), (nos. 195–96) Hayes 10A [ca. 570–660+ LRP])), which suggests to the ceramicist a date from the 7th c. onwards for the collapse: Allegro (2004a) 280. The basis for the date is not entirely obvious from these wares however, and seems still to depend on the follis of Constans II of AD 643–44, found under the slabs. Overall, this information has led the excavator to suggest that the first phase drain [and so likely the first road here] was built in the second half of the 6th c. or beginning of the 7th c., although under the rules of this study the last find in the lower drain floor was LRC Hayes 10A [570–612.5 Atlante], so giving a contextual date range of 570–95. The second phase drain (and thus the relaying of the slabs) occurred a little after the mid-7th c. for the excavator, whilst my rules note the LRC Hayes 10C [600–650 Atlante] plus the follis of Constans II (AD 643–44) as the last finds in the upper drain floor and related overlying earth, giving a contextual date range of 643–68. The phase three water supply and 4 subsequent street surfaces must date after 643, but should date before the sewer went out of use in the 25 year period 713–38, which is the contextual range for disuse that I calculate from the last two coins. The placement of the last 4 road surfaces may have interrupted the sewer, but

APPENDIX 1: B7 Urban Street Systems, in Newly-Built Areas the sewer fill provides the last dated evidence of occupation on site, so should be referred to as giving an associative TAQ for the whole sequence. See the excavator’s summary: Allegro (2004a) 286–87. East-west street in sector ‘I’: This was only excavated for a short section (in a sondage 1 m by 1.4 m). This trench produced similar results to the north-south street, except that no dating materials were recovered: under the collapse level of the surrounding buildings was found a level of ‘calpestio’, with a lower level of ‘preparation’ for it, covering a limestone slab surface of three slabs, similar to those used to cover the drain I36. No large street slabs equivalent to the north-south street were recovered, apparently, but the limestone slabs were thought to extend across the full width of the road, as a road paving, rather than just to cover a section equivalent to a drain. This suggests, on analogy to the north-south street, that this slab surface is mid-7th c.: Allegro (2004a) 299. North-south street in sector ‘E’ (cut by development Chandax 1979): Here a second section of north-south street, of unknown total width, was excavated, with a paving of 6.6 m wide: Di Vita (1994–95) 478–82 with measurements on p. 482. The final report is N. Allegro, “Il settore E. Campagne di scavo 1979–1980”, in Gortina VI. Scavi 1979–1982, ed. A. Di Vita. (Padua 2004b) (129–36) 132–35. The street (described on pp. 132–34) was paved with slabs of limestone (“poros biancastro”) (E1, believed to be the same quarry as the road paving in OTE sector I and in the adjacent ‘Byzantine basilica’), and it was bordered by a drain (E2, 0.5 m deep and 0.33 m wide) that was covered over by compact earth, which united it to road paving E1. This detail points to a unified conception of construction for both the drain and the road paving. It is very likely that the compact earth represents a wooden-revetted sidewalk, partly designed to protect the drain. Beyond it was a brick wall (E17), possibly for a portico stylobate, carrying a possible column base, and beyond that a floor (likely the inside of the portico) paved with limestone (“poros giallino”), which was a lot smaller than the road paving. Two major late phases have been traced in this area. Of the first late phase, destruction took place before the present street was built. The ‘sidewalk’ (and probably the street as a whole) overlay (p. 134) an earlier paved street (E18). The destruction levels (E9) that lay over this street (E18), which themselves supported the later ‘sidewalk’, were dated by the excavator to sometime after the second half of the 5th c. (ARS Hayes 50, given as AD 350–400 [Hayes 50B is ca. 350–400+ LRP, whereas Hayes 50A/B is 300–400 E. Vaccaro pers. comm. 2016] Hayes 50A is ca. 230/240–325 LRP; later var. ca. 300–60) and Hayes 67, given as AD 360–440 [ca. 360–470 in LRP], as well as amphora datable to the 5th and 6th c. AD (Allegro (2004b) 134–35 citing Rendini nos. 840, 843, 846, 850, 857 and 862.

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In Rendini’s catalogue, 840 is type ‘Gortina I, 278’ of 5th– 6th c.; 843 is ‘Agora V, K113/Niederbieber 77’ [= Kapitän 2 and is 200–400 RADR]; 846 is ‘Aegean-Insular (Samian?)’ [Samos Cistern type is 500–700 RADR, but this identification is my guess]; 850 is LR 3 [two-handled 387.5–?600 RADR]; 857 is LR 4 [= Almagro 54 300–700 RADR]; 862 is LR 7 [387.5–800 RADR]. Under the rules of this study, the date should rather be 400–25 based on the Gortyn I, 278 amphora [400–600, not checked] being the piece with the latest start for its date range. Of the second late phase, the street was probably built a little later than the destruction. The walls of the street drain included a cemented fragment of ARS Hayes 103B [500–575 in LRP], which dated it to sometime after the beginning of the 6th c., whilst the earth covering the drain [i.e. burying, not filling the drain] produced material suggesting a date from the beginning of the 6th c. such as LRC form Hayes 3E [487.5–500 Atlante], given as datable from the end of the 5th c., and a neck of an eastern amphora Rendini no. 872, which relates to P. Rendini, “Chandax 1979: i Materiali: Anfore” on pp. 241–53 in the same volume, who lists it as of an uncertain east or north Aegean origin, without comment on date, though related to ‘Sarachane II type 29’ of ‘Early Byzantine’ date [not checked]. However, in truth, it looks like the ceramic Hayes 103B from the walls of the drain is conditioning the date of the earth also, by suggesting, when taken with the earth above it, a contextual date of 500–525, according to my calculations, which should also be the date of the ‘sidewalk’ and road paving, given their relationship to the drain. Overall occupation: The results of trenches in sector I do seem to suggest a reoccupation of the area in Late Antiquity: the coins from the area are a little under 50% of the total, and the finewares are 90%. No structure has been identified from either the 1st and 2nd c. AD or the 3rd– 4th c. AD in the area, and finds from both periods are residual, coming from late antique contexts: Allegro (2004a) 303–304. Allegro struggles with the overall dating of the new quarter, seeing a possibly 4th c. structure perhaps aligned with one of the roads, although he is also tempted to imagine a unified project of the last decades of the 6th c. to coincide with the erection of a neighbouring church. However, the evidence presented here suggests a date for the new district of sometime in the 6th c., with examined parts of the infrastructure supporting a date of 570–95. It is possible that other parts of the quarter may eventually reveal streets established earlier. It is also likely, given the evidence of the earlier streets, that this new quarter involved the reoccupation of a much earlier, long-disused, street grid with a relaying of the slabs, which include some added spolia pieces at a higher level on top of an added fill. E. Zanini pers. comm., current director of the Gortyn mission, attributes such developments in this quarter to the

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consequences of flooding, which made the raising of these areas necessary. Dating summary (sector I, first phase drain, and probably road): range 570–95, midpoint 582.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3. Dating summary (sector I, second phase drain and slab surface): range 643–68, midpoint 655.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs7 (TPQ coin), publication 3/3. Dating summary (sector I, third phase water pipe): range 643–738, midpoint 690.5, class Cs7 (TPQ coins), Cs8 (contextual coins), Cs3 (associative, finds), publication 3/3. Dating summary (sector I, road surfaces in gravel etc.) (4): range 643–738, midpoint 690.5, class Cs7 (TPQ coins), Cs8 (contextual coins), Cs3 (associative, finds), publication 3/3. Dating summary (for development of quarter): range 570–95, midpoint 582.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3. 11THR Thracian Philippopolis: The reconstruction of streets took place, after major destruction in the 3rd c., dated by coins of “AD 270–282”. Marble and reused Sienite slabs were used to pave some streets, whilst others kept their earlier paving or were stripped of it: I. Topalilov, “Philippopolis. The city from the 1st to the beginning of the 7th c.”, in Roman Cities in Bulgaria, ed. R. Ivanov, vol. 1 (Sofia 2012) (363–437) proofs page number 14, dating not given in more detail. More precision can be obtained from E. Kesyakova, “A residential complex from Philippopolis”, in Studia in honorem Christo M. Danov, edd. A. Fol et al. (Thracia 12) (Sofia 1998) (159–71) 170, who notes that in the lower city, many streets were abandoned and others were raised up by 1 m after mid 3rd c. disruption. One site (Cardo) saw new development above the old road level. Kesyakova notes that sewerage and water supply systems were provided in the new streets, with the Cardo producing an example of the new water supply system. I have seen no indication that the width of the streets changed, which around the forum had been between ca. 5 m and ca. 7.5 m in width according to the plan of Topalilov (2012) 21 fig. 9. Of dating, the cardo’s new development sealed coins of Severina, wife of Aurelian (AD 270– 75) and Constantius II (AD 337–61). Unfortunately, the nature of the wider coin range of the major destruction of “AD 270–282” is not clear, whether it refers to a single type of coin or a range of different coins. If it refers to a number of coins found in destruction levels (as seems likely) then the date of the new streets should be placed in the subsequent quarter century, as I have done here. I do not wish to invoke the Gothic sack of Philippopolis of AD 251 as a chronological argument. See appendix C9b for examples of late repaving which might relate to this same development. Dating summary: range 282–307, midpoint 294.5, class Cs8 (contextual coins), publication 2/3.

11THR Diocletianopolis in Thrace: The new urban foundation of Diocletianopolis has only been partially explored: K. Madkarov, Diocletianopol, vol. 1 (Sofia 1993). Of internal features, the street system has been traced over an area of 650 m north-south by 300 m east-west, although the fortifications extend over a larger area of ca. 650 m north-south by 500 m east-west. The grid proper can only be reconstructed for a north-south strip of little more than one insula’s width. The roads set within the city have been investigated in a few places, enough to establish that there was a grid of parallel streets running through the centre of the town, from north to south, which was at least two insulae wide. The grid also extended towards the east gate, where a road left it at an odd angle, clearly intending to be compatible with the wider grid. See Madkaraov (1993) fig. 10 for a map of roads attested by excavation and those hypothesised. Of insulae sizes (where tentatively established, measuring form external wall to external wall) we see measurements vary in size from ca. 30 m to 45 m north-south by ca. 70 m east-west, though these figures are produced by measuring roughly from the city plan. Away from these areas, buildings (including late antique churches) were not aligned with the grid, suggesting that different road alignments were present. The few sections of the grid exposed suggest an irregularity in the spacing of the parallel roads going east to west, and also an irregularity in their respective width. Of dimensions and surfaces, the north-south Cardo, linking the gates, is 11 m wide, composed of fine gravel and retained by a stone kerb on each side. The east-west Decumanus coming from the east gate is 5 m wide and retained by badly laid stone kerbs. A second Decumanus, not connected to any gates, is 12 m wide and retained by kerbs. All the other roads of the city apparently lack kerbs: Madkarov (1993) 208. Of phasing and dating, the first major buildings of the site date from the early 4th c., according to K. Madkarov. In particular, he dates the powerful fortifications (main wall not proteichisma) to this period. Dating is based on the building technique (mixed masonry with levelling courses of 4 bands of bricks) paralleled to a wall dated by an in situ brick inscription to the beginning of the 4th c. at adjacent Momina bania: Madkarov (1993) 207. He dates the baths at Diocletianopolis to the same period (on the basis of the late 3rd c. finds and the building technique), along with its water supply, which was built within the fortification, and is thus contemporary with it. Buildings to the north are dated to the first half of the 4th c. on account of the earliest coins (4th c.) and the building technique. A similar date of late 3rd-early 4th c. is offered for the amphitheatre on the basis of its construction technique: Madkarov

APPENDIX 1: B7 Urban Street Systems, in Newly-Built Areas (1993) 208–209. Whilst it is hard to confirm all these dates, the idea of a general refoundation of the site with the present fortifications in the late 3rd / early 4th c. seems reasonable, although the site was occupied into the 6th c. AD. The name Diocletianopolis also suggests a refoundation which one should associate with the period 284–305, but this will not be used as evidence here. This name is first attested in the 6th c., though there is no inscription from the site to confirm this place was Diocletianopolis: Madkarov pp. 202–203. Overall, I will take the late 3rd c. associative finds from the baths, the water supply of which is connected to the fortification, as providing the most significant indication of the foundation of the city, supported by the name of the settlement. A second (paved) street level has now been identified on the road coming from the east gate, which consists of stone paving slabs, laid in rows. It is thought to postdate a Hunnic sack of the city in the mid 5th c., but without explicit dating evidence, other than 5th–6th c. sherds from adjacent shops: see below appendix C9a. Dating summary: range 287.5–300, midpoint 293.75, class Cs3 (associative finds), publication 2/3. 12CPL Constantinople: The valiant attempt by Berger, to reconstruct the street grid of the city, is based largely on building alignments. There are few certain details away from major avenues: A. Berger, “Regionen und Straßen im frühen Konstantinopel”, IstMitt 47 (1997) 349–414; A. Berger, “Streets and public spaces in Constantinople”, DOP 54 (2000) 161–72. The ‘parallel streets’ described in region 7 in the Notitia Urbis Constantinopolitanae of AD 425, within the Constantinian new city, do sound like part of an orthogonal street grid, and one can suggest building alignments in this district which might reflect it. However, otherwise, it is difficult to see more than localised building alignment in what is a very undulating urban site. One can certainly see that the monuments of the old city centre were set within a regular, though not rigid, grid system. This organisation likely dates from the pre-Constantinian town, which is cut by the line of the Mese (itself likely Severan). But a detailed chronology of the streets, supported by archaeological finds is not yet possible. The TAQ is the beginning of the construction of Constantinople, after the battle of Chrysopolis in 324, on which see G. Dagron, Naissance d’une Capitale. Constantinople et ses institutions de 330 à 451 (Paris 1974) 32, with literary, epigraphic and numismatic references. Dating summary: range 324–425, midpoint 377.5, class x (historical text), publication 3/3. 15ORI Antioch in Syria: Procop. Aed. 2.10.21 records the re-establishment of the street grid of the city after its complete destruction in the Persian sack of AD 540, with large-scale earth movement being described. The rebuilding was

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examined archaeologically by J. Lassus, who found that the last ancient rebuilding of the main street (the only one dating to Late Antiquity) followed the pre-existing road system, with a level rise of 1 m in places. Thus, it seems likely to equate with the rebuilding undertaken under Justinian, which would have affected this main street more than any other: see appendix C3. The study of land boundaries has revealed that a rectilinear grid of perpendicular angles survived within the Justinianic walls until the city was abandoned, being passed on into property divisions in the modern era, as revealed by the studies of J. Leblanc and G. Poccardi, “Étude de la permanence de traces urbaine et ruraux antiques à Antioche-sur-l’Oronte”, Syria 76 (1999) 91–126. We are not able to establish from these landboundaries that the grid re-established by Justinian was entirely orthogonal, as insulae are sub-divided in a number of ways in the field boundaries, but we can confirm he did retain here the legacy of an orthogonal grid of streets. A reduced area was enclosed by walls, excluding the ‘Island’, where the palace and cathedral had been: Procop. Aed. 2.10.2–14, commented on in F. Guidetti, “Urban continuity and change in Late Roman Antioch”, in Urban Decline in the Byzantine Realm, Proceedings of the International Conference (Helsinki, September 25th, 2009), ed. B. Forsén (Acta Byzantina Fennica, n.s. 3 (2010)) (81–104) 95–97. It is difficult to establish a TAQ for the completion of the work, but I will here use 25 years after the sack of 540, which takes us up to 565, the death of Justinian. Dating summary: range 540–65, midpoint 552.5, class x (historical text), publication 3/3. 15ORI Sura: The city has been surveyed by T. Ulbert (apparently by a walk-over and topographical survey), but not excavated. Ulbert produced a brief summary of his observations with a plan based on adapting an air photo of A. Poidebard, La trace de Rome dans le désert de Syrie (Paris 1934); T. Ulbert, “Villes et fortifications de l’Euphrate à l’époque paléo-chrétienne”, in Archéologie et histoire de la Syrie, vol. 2: La Syrie de l’époque achéménide à l’avènement de l’Islam, edd. J.-M. Dentzer and W. Orthmann (Saarbrücken 1989) (283–96) 286–88 with 285 fig. 5. See also F.W. Deichmann, “Westliche Bautechnik im Romischen und Rhomanischen Osten”, RömMitt 86 (1979) (473–527) 498–500; M. Konrad: Der spätrömische Limes in Syrien. Archäologische Untersuchungen an den Grenzkastellen von Sura, Tetrapyrgium, Cholle und in Resafa (Resafa 5) (Mainz 2001) 5–12. Of phasing, the settlement has three phases, defined by three separate fortifications. The first is a rectangular area ca. 400 m by 650 m, surrounded by a mud brick enceinte. This has so far produced no finds or buildings inside, apart from one monumental structure of stone blocks with columns; the rest of the settlement was perhaps also made of mud brick. To the west of this area was added a second,

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larger, trapezoidal, more strongly fortified area, 1 m by 0.3 km to 0.5 km in size, with a concrete-based rampart, and buildings in squared gypsum. Both areas of the settlement have been eroded on their northern side by the Euphrates river. Cutting into both areas is a third phase: a much smaller square fortified area, with a rampart of brick: Ulbert (1989) 286–88 with 285 fig. 5. Of internal features, a grid system of streets (with insulae of 50 m by 50 m) had been claimed by Ulbert (1989) 285, fig. 5 with 287, inside the second phase (western) area, in its eastern half, over an area with a grid of about 12 insulae (arranged in a grid of 3 by 4 insulae). A Google Maps air photo (last accessed Feb 2013) shows, however, a different alignment for the western side of the second area, and from this photo it is not really possible to assert a definite grid, rather a tendency toward two different alignments. The north-east part of the second area is both very flat on Ulbert’s map and devoid of markings on the air photo, so it may never have been built up. Konrad (2001) 12 says that an octagonal building and church are located in the western part of the site, just west of the ‘Kastell’. Of dating, Ulbert thinks that the first phase of the east side of the city might have been created by Diocletian, as part of his work reinforcing the frontier along the Euphrates. This is not provable at present, though the site is listed in the Peutinger Table. We cannot be absolutely sure when the second phase area was founded either: during or shortly prior to the 6th c. is a reasonable working hypothesis. It was certainly a very different type of settlement to its mudbrick predecessor. The finds from the inside of the third phase citadel and the second area are apparently 6th c. (ceramics are specified in the case of the phase 3 castrum, with an absence of 4th c. material), giving us a rough associative date, though earlier levels might conceivably be covered over. Medieval Islamic ceramics are rare: Ulbert (1989) 288. The presence of a church and an octagonal building (also possibly a church?), amidst a shared building style in squared gypsum, gives some credence to the idea that we are dealing with a single phase of development. The final fortress perhaps corresponds to a Justinianic rebuilding after the sack of AD 540, recorded by Procop. Pers. 2.5.8–33 (sack), Aed. 2.9.1–2 (rebuilding). The third phase wall has been studied by Deichmann (1979) 498–500 and Konrad (2001), who note (p. 12) that the ‘Kastell’ walls in concrete and brick-work are typically ‘Byzantine’ and have no parallels in Diocletianic forts in the area. Dating summary (of the second phase settlement, with the putative street grid): 500–540, midpoint 520, class Cs3 (associative finds), 6 catch-all masonry, x (historical). 15ORI Sergiopolis (Resafa): A new road system seems to have been established in the early 6th c., when the settlement of Resafa was refounded by Justinian (AD 527–65), as described by Procop. Aed. 2.9.3–9, or more likely by Anastasius

(AD 491–518), as the archaeology seems to suggest. The street system is mainly reconstructed by indirect sources (the alignment of monuments, especially arches, and of the fortification gates), because of the overbuilding of many later centuries which has obscured the original plan: S. Westphalen, “Resafa. Bericht über die Ausgrabungen 1997 bis 1999”, DM 12 (2000) (325–65) 325–28; id. “Resafa: Untersuchungen zum Straßennetz in byzantinischer Zeit”, in Akten des XIV Internationalen Kongresses für Christliche Archäologie Wien 19–26.9.1999 Frühes Christentum zwischen Rom und Konstantinopel, vol. 2, edd. R. Harreither et al. (Vienna 2006) (783–93) 783–85. Of internal features, the reconstructed grid plan (Westphalen (2000) 340 fig. 8), gives only a minimum guide to the number of streets that existed. The insulae patterns are reconstructed from fortification gates, building alignments and monumental arches. It must represent only the minimum number of streets present, and this plan is hypothetical. It looks like the whole south side of the site (50% or more of the walled area) constitutes a coherent sub-rectangular system with insulae of different quadrilateral sizes of varying angles that was planned with the late antique fortifications: Westphalen (2000) 340 fig. 8. At one major junction in this area, where the road from the east gate and from the south gate cross, an excavation has been carried out which reveals that the Late Roman stone slabs of the road system (the only phase of road) are the first element on the site, lying directly on natural soil (above which the first dating evidence is a coin of Heraclius): Westphalen (2006) 786. In contrast, one area of the settlement, around the tetraconch church has some irregular streets that perhaps reflect pre-existing settlement, or changes subsequent to the 6th c. plan. Measuring from the plan cited above, the fortification covers an area of ca. 550 m northsouth by ca. 410 m east-west, with the reconstructed street system fitting closely inside the walls, shaving perhaps ca. 10 m off the north-south and east-west measurements. The reconstructed insulae are irregular in shape and size, and from the little that is excavated it is not easy to give maximum and minimum insulae dimensions at this time. Nonetheless, the smallest insula proposed by Westphalen (2000) 340 fig. 8 measures ca. 52 m by 102–105 m, whilst the largest measures ca. 129–159 m by 208–214 m, although very little is known of the interior of the latter insula, which might have been subdivided. The physical attributes of one road have been revealed by the excavation at the junction of the roads from the east gate and the south gate (335, fig. 3). The width of the northsouth street at this point can be measured, whilst the surrounding porticoes can be extrapolated from the position of adjacent walls, giving the following dimensions: west portico 2.9 m (from back wall to front of stylobate on roadway), roadway 3.6 m (not 3.5 m as marked on the plan), east

APPENDIX 1: B7 Urban Street Systems, in Newly-Built Areas portico 3.3 m. The widths of the east-west street, leading to the east city gate, are conjectural but are drawn on the plan as being north portico 3.8 m, roadway 7.1 m, south portico 4.1 m, hand-measuring off the plan for all of these measurements. There is no mention of reuse for the paving stones of the report, which appear to be new-cut rectangular blocks (from ca. 0.3 m by 0.6 m up to 1.5 m by 1 m in size), sorted into parallel rows of different width, observing the plan of Westphalen (2000) 330 fig. 2. It seems clear from the plan that the north-south street has had its east portico advanced to the west side, into the roadway, meaning that the east-west colonnaded street leading to the east gate provides a more realistic measurement, even if it is conjectured, likely deriving from surviving building alignments. Of dating, we are dependent on texts and studies of individual buildings, rather than excavation of the roads. Prior to the 6th c. foundation, a fort is known, from literary sources, to have existed on this site: E.K. Fowden, The Barbarian Plain. Saint Sergius between Rome and Iran (Los Angeles-London 1999) 21. Traces of an earlier settlement have come from a sondage under Basilica B, within the ‘new city area’, though only 1st c. (Flavian) small finds have been retrieved, then there is a gap before late antique levels: Westphalen (2000) 340 fig. 8, referring to M. Konrad, “Flavische und spätantike Bebauung unter der Basilika B von Resafa Sergiupolis”, DM 6 (1992) 313–402 esp. 343. Furthermore, a 5th c. church is known to have existed on the site of Basilica B, both from an inscription of 518 found here (which mentions an earlier mud brick church, see below), and from letters appended to the Acts of the Council of Ephesus of AD 431: ACO 1.4 183 with 162–63. These letters describe the foundation of a church to St. Sergius shortly before 431, an event also mentioned in hagiography, as detailed in Fowden (1999) 26–28. Excavations in the north-east corner of Basilica B have found an earlier building that may be this church, dated by finds to sometime after AD 425, based on a cut / clipped centenionalis coin (no further details given, not a good dating basis), out of layer 26 of sondage IIIA, which is its construction phase (phase IIa). An early to mid 5th c. date is also suggested for the building by the presence, in the subsequent phase III, of LRC Hayes 3E–F, given as not known before the last quarter of the 5th c. [LRC 3E/F 475–600 Atlante]: Konrad (1992) 343. It looks therefore that the older site was established across both the planned and unplanned parts of the site, even if some parts of the planned site were established on virgin soil. A date for the ‘new’ part of the city is provided by the construction of a church (Basilica B), which is aligned with the rectilinear street system. The building date for this church is provided by an inscription (later reused but believed, from the moulding of the stone, to be from the church): P.-L. Gatier and T. Ulbert, “Eine Türsturzinschrift

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aus Resafa-Sergiupolis”, DM 5 (1991) 169–82, esp. 172 fig. 2 and 179–80. This gives a date of AD 518 (based on year 829 of the Seleucid era, plus the 11th indiction mentioned in the inscription), revealing that the urban project was underway in the time of Anastasius: Westphalen (2000) 326. The ceramics of Hayes LRC 3E–F (in layers of phase III of the pre-Basilica B structure [475–600 in Atlante]), also provides an archaeological TPQ of the last quarter of the 5th c. for the subsequent Basilica. On the significance of the inscription and historical events affecting church building at Resafa, see: B.G. Brands, Resafa. 6, Die Bauornamentik von Resafa-Sergiupolis: Studien zur spätantiken Architektur und Bauausstattung in Syrien und Nordmesopotamien (Mainz 2002) 114–17. Brands notes that there is a second building phase detectable, which complicates the significance of the inscription, though at least phase 1 of the Basilica must have been built by 518 (I am here dating the street system not the church itself). Brands has also noted strong parallels in the architectural decoration of the walls and gate, tetraconch and Basilica B, which suggest that they belong to a single time period, which would be the final years of Anastasius’ rule: G. Brands, “Die Entstehung einer Stadt—Beobachtungen zur Bauornamentik von Resafa”, in Spätantike und byzantinische Bauskulptur, Beiträge eines Symposions in Mainz, edd. U. Peschlow and S. Möllers (Forschungen zur Kunstgeschichte und Christlichen Archäologie 19) (Stuttgart 1998) (77–93). Overall, I do not like to use architectural ornament as a dating criterion, but I am happy to use it as supporting a local catch-all masonry dating theory here. Whether it is possible to be so precise about the date is questionable, but the idea that Basilica B and the walls, gates etc. belong together is important, as it suggests a single phase of works which would have included the street grid, given its definition by gates and building alignments. Although the work on the city might well have extended a little beyond 518, this date is still the best TAQ to use for the site. For a review of the older literature on the street system see references in Fowden (1999) 78 n. 89, with 92–94 summarising dating discussions. I will not comment on the significance of architectural style and decoration for the dating, but stick with the early 6th c., reliant on the ceramics and the inscription as TPQ and TAQ. Dating summary (for street grid of ‘new quarter’): range 475–518, midpoint 496.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs6 (absolute, inscription TAQ), Cs5 (catch-all masonry), publication 3/3. 15ORI Zenobia (4): There are 4 colonnaded streets within this city which cross at the tetrapylon, though the east and west streets are not aligned with each other as is the case with the north and south streets. The most thorough (though still outline) account of the streets is the survey and excavation report of J. Lauffray, Halabiyya-Zenobia. Place forte

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du limes oriental et la Haute Mésopotamie au Vie siècle, II: L’architecture publique, religieuse, privée et funéraire (Paris 1991) 36–42, with the “Plan de la ville” providing the street plan. Recent excavations have touched on aspects of chronology and one street junction: S. Blétry et al., “Trois années de recherches à Zénobia-Halabiyé (Syrie), ville forteresse proto-byzantine sur le limes oriental”, Semitica et Classica 3 (2010) 249–64, esp. pp. 261–64; Of dimensions of insulae, those as depicted on the city plan of Lauffray, are irregular, although those at the centre of the site are rectangular. On the east-west street, insulae are 60 to 75 m east-west and about 35 to 75 m north-south, whereas on the north side of the site there is an insula ca. 25 m north-south, measuring roughly from the plan, from external wall to external wall. Of dimensions of streets, little has been published. The northern part of the north-south Cardo (‘Justinianic’ section) is stated by Lauffray (1991) 38, to have had a (roadway) width of 4.95 / 5 m, and porticoes of 2–3 m, with some porticoes as narrow as 1.75 m, which would give an overall road width of around 10 m. Columns, column bases and capitals were uncovered, but no architraves, making one suspect that wooden roof beams were laid directly on them. The southern part of the Cardo (pp. 37–38) has no measurements provided by Lauffray, but seems to be similar in its dimensions to the northern section, judging from p. 36 fig. 8, except when approaching the south gate when it becomes about a third wider (p. 39, fig. 9) and follows a different alignment (where 10 columns of 4 m in height were found). The western branch of the east-west Decumanus (p. 38) is stated by Lauffray to be only 3 m wide (in its roadway), though it has porticoes, which in the absence of figures from Lauffray one could estimate from the plan on p. 36 fig. 8 as being ca. 2.5 m wide, giving an overall road width of ca. 8 m. The eastern branch of the east-west Decumanus (p. 39) has a roadway of 3.7 m, and porticoes, extending for only 15 m. Measuring from p. 40, fig. 10 the north portico seems to have been 3.7 m wide and the south portico ca. 3–3.5 m wide. This would have given an overall road width from the rear wall of the porticoes of ca. 10.65 m. The centre of the road was 1 m off axis with the tetrapylon. Of architectural elements, relating to the street porticoes, columns of 2.38 m and 2.84 m were found (much smaller than the wider southern part of the Cardo), as were capitals, column bases, and pedestals, that could have served as either statue bases or as column support bases. These fragments suggest a more irregular (and probably spolia-using) architecture than that found in the southern Cardo. There is no mention of piers rather than columns being used throughout the city for colonnades, except in the eastern branch of the Decumanus, where two hollow piers served as channels for water. Finally, on p. 47, Lauffray mentions that the Justinianic rebuilding of the

streets included ‘des rempolis souvent maladroits’ including capitals of different styles in the same colonnade and columns of different height, which were compensated with bases of different thicknesses. This, alongside “irrégularités d’implantation,” were a contrast to the high standard of work seen around the northern rampart and the ‘pseudoPrétoire’, which Lauffray attributes to imperial architects, as it has no parallel in building techniques seen in the limestone massifs around Antioch. More details of architectural elements of street portico come from a street intersection of the Cardo with a minor street near the north gate. This area (sector 7) has been excavated by Blétry (2010) 261–64, revealing a surface of rammed pebbles fixed by a grey-white gypsum plaster (p. 261), which is described as the last-use surface, but from photo p. 263 fig. 8, seems likely to represent the surface shown at the original construction height of the portico. Thus, it is likely to represent the surface contemporary with the portico. The portico stylobate found here is dotted with a series of small holes, between the columns, as if it supported a fence in organic materials or perhaps a stone parapet, though to me the former looks more likely as this does not look like an attachment for conventional stone blocks p. 261 plus p. 263 figs. 7–8. A column was found here, plus capital fragments and two types of parament blocks, along with three gypsum column bases (that were in situ, set 2.05 m apart according to the text, though more like 2.7 m from the centre of each column, hand-measuring off the plan). These indicate a colonnade height of ‘more than 3 m above the level of the ground’, with a column length of 2.68 m: p. 261 plus p. 263 with fig. 7 (plan) and fig. 8. Spolia is not mentioned, although the two types of parament block suggest this is possible. Of paving, that of the road surface and porticoes is not mentioned in the report of Lauffray. Of shops, there are two rows of cellular units, behind the north portico of the west street (west branch of Decumanus) and behind the east portico of the north street (north branch of the Cardo): Lauffray (1991) fig. 61 [west street] and fig. 48 [north-south street]. (i) The north portico of the west street has a row of at least 5 single-roomed cellular units [perhaps 7 if we believe the reconstruction], each opening via thresholds onto the decumanus. These are rectangular [slightly trapezoidal to the west] measuring ca. 3.8 m to 4.6 m deep and ca. 3.65 to 5.4 m wide, internally, hand-measuring off the plan on fig. 61. Two of them have what looks like round jars in one corner. (ii) The east portico on the north street has a row of 5 single-room cellular units, which all appear to open on to the street, although no thresholds have been identified as the walls seem to have been surveyed rather than excavated. They measure ca. 2.7–3.2 m wide by ca. 4.2 m deep, measuring roughly off the plan. There may be many more

APPENDIX 1: B7 Urban Street Systems, in Newly-Built Areas shops along all of these streets, but the lack of excavation makes the reconstruction of other units less certain from the plan. Of phasing and dating for this street system, there is little clarity. The grid is not firmly dated, and neither is the dating of its colonnaded streets. However, the present street system is likely to date to the 6th c., most likely from the time of Justinian, based on literary sources. Procop. Aed. 2.8.8–25 describes the extensive reconstruction of the city, including the building of colonnaded streets (stoas) (2.8.25). Hypotheses are currently based on the interrelation of streets with buildings. Lauffray argues that most of the street network as it now appears to us is Justinianic, and that there are a few surviving parts of an earlier alignment, based on three strands of argument. Firstly, the street leading to the pre-Justinianic gate IV onto the Euphrates (preJustinianic as the wall deviates to incorporate it). Secondly, the initial alignment of the ‘eastern church’ (basilica A / cathedral). Thirdly, the first 20 m of the north-south Cardo inside the south gate is wider and follows a different alignment than that of the rest of the street. Lauffray believes the former to represent the pre-Justinianic street system and the latter to represent the Justinianic renovation of ca. 550, recorded by Procop. Aed. 2.8.15. The ‘eastern church’ is thought to be an Anastasian construction because it had to be adapted in its third phase of construction to fit the new ‘Justinianic’ street system: see Lauffray (1991) vol. 2 79–80, 129–30. Unfortunately, it is hard to tie the date of the ‘Justinianic’ streets to the supposedly Anastasian / Justinianic city walls (which have three phases), beyond saying they are secondary to the south wall. Elsewhere the relationship of streets to walls is not clear: the street approach to the north wall is adjusted to an alignment not seen elsewhere, to make it perpendicular, introducing ambiguity into the sequence: see city plan in Lauffray (1991) vol. 2 and vol. 1: Les duchés frontaliers de Mésopotamie et les fortifications de Zenobia (Paris 1983) p. 140 for an overview of phasing theories for the city wall. The first phase of the church, which Lauffray must place before the restoration of ca. 550, is suggested as being of the end of the 5th or beginning of the 6th c., based on its plan, modulation and style of capitals (p. 140). The capitals (vol. 2 p. 80 and p. 174 fig. 184 no. 11) of phase 2 of the church (a modification of its primary phase) are suggested as being pre-Justinianic according to unspecified Antiochene examples. An arch on columns supporting the church’s ‘triumphal arch’ is compared to an arch at Basoufan which is apparently of the end the 5th c. The reign of Anastasius, an emperor known to have subsidised church building in the East, is preferred (p. 80). These arguments are all very flimsy. I have not so far been able to establish archaeological dating for the statement that the last phase (3) represents the work of Justinian and that it

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predates the Church of the Holy Cross of Resafa (p. 80): there just seems to be an assumption that the last major phase must relate to this time, which is not unreasonable. Of dissenting views, De Maffei does not think that the ‘Anastasian’ street layout changed under Justinian, or at least does not think this can be proven, and thinks this was the original grid without explaining why: F. De Maffei, “Zenobia e Annoukas, fortificazioni di Giustiniano sul medio Eufrate. Fase degli interventi e data”, in Costantinopoli e l’arte della province orientali (Milio. Studi e Ricerche d’Arte Bizantina 2) (Rome 1993) 135–77, esp. 166. His belief that the eastern church must be later than the western one (which is aligned with the street grid) is based on its decoration and it having a large baptistery, meaning it ‘took over’ from the other church (p. 171). This again is a highly speculative theory. This discussion is summarised in P. Carità, Problemi di urbansitica giustinianea. Le città della Siria e della Mesopotamia (BAR-IS 1255) (Oxford 2004) 104–105. To my judgement, all that seems to be recoverable from the site is that there does seem to be two phases to the streets, from a number of disjunctures. One of these likely dates to after the rebuilding of ca. 550, known from texts, and has produced the present grid, but quite when the earlier phase dates from is not clear, whether from earlier in the reign of Justinian, from the reign of Anastasius, or a lot earlier. Finally, the recent excavations reported in Blétry (2010) note only that the streets excavated were in existence by the middle of the 6th c. based on unspecified ceramics (p. 262), whilst overall the areas excavated point to the end of the ‘Byzantine’ occupation and the transition to the Umayyad period, rather than to the time of Justinian (p. 264). However, we cannot rule out an earlier occupation based on such small trenches. This should at least alert us to the possibility that some of the colonnades might date from the end of the 6th to earlier 7th c. rather than the time of Justinian. Dating summary (for extant street grid and its connected street surfaces, porticoes and shops): ca. 550, class x (historical text), Cs5 (catch-all architectural hypotheses), Cs3 (associative, phase of development), Cs1 (architectural style, for eastern church, which indicates that the present grid is post-Anastasian). STOP PRESS: I have recently obtained the final report S. Blétry, Zénobia-Halabiya, habitat urbain et nécropoles. Cinq années de recherches de la mission syro-française (2006–2010) (Cuadernos Mésopotamie t. 6) (Coruña 2015) which tentatively identifies (see p. 37) a demolished earlier northern rampart, replaced by a second one, alongside an extension of the city. Dating evidence (ceramics) recovered from the excavation were not entirely satisfactory but point to a construction in the second half of the 6th c. [during a truce of 545 is suggested], thus broadly compatible with

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the date suggested above. Part of the demolished rampart was excavated in sector 1 where domestic structures were established over it and non-road sewer was established to serve the new northern district (p. 49). The ditch fill US 1017 cutting an occupation level here contained ceramics dating from the second half of 6th to 7th c. (p. 52 with figs. 34–38), whilst the sewer fill contained ceramics of the second half of the 6th c. to the Umayyad period. I was not able to photocopy the pages with the ceramics so I do not give full details here. A coin of Justin II was found on top of the cover slab of the sewer but this does not really help us in refining the date further. The finds from occupation levels in the new part of the city just north of here (p. 152) date from the end of the 6th to the Abbasid period (ceramics), alongside one unspecified Roman and two unspecified ‘Byzantine’ coins that likely remained in circulation a lot longer than the ceramics which can be taken as providing a more reliable indication of the occupation date. In terms of the colonnaded street section excavated by Blétry north of old walls in sector 7, the report of Blétry (2015) 147–65 gives us the following new details. 3 layers of road surface: very hard ‘cement’ level, then brick fragment level, then finally gypsum gravel (cailloutis) joined with jousse, with the last surface corresponding to the portico stylobate height (p. 149). The first two surfaces might represent either foundation levels or, possibly earlier extramural road surfaces. Blétry has also revealed an east-west side street in this section, 3.4 m wide and constituting a layer of broken bricks, 0.3 m thick, covered by a very hard gypsum layer like on the main street: pp. 149–50. The absence of a recorded lower ‘concrete’ level like on the main northsouth street suggests this might have been a pre-colonnaded street surface for the latter roadway. The width of the west portico revealed by Blétry is given (on p. 151) as 2.83 m, which plan fig. 137 on p. 163 reveals is the distance from the back wall of the portico to the front of the stylobate. The flooring of the portico is given as gypsum gravel (cailloutis) connected by jousse (p. 151). 15ORI Pella in Jordan (Eastern Tel): A small area (areas 3 and 4), sampled by the University of Sydney excavations, revealed a new residential area established in the late 6th to early 7th c. AD, within phase 3a of a well-stratified site, after a demolition of earlier less densely-built structures. The levels of phase 3 contained one planned street and aligned domestic buildings, over which no other street boundaries were picked up. The straight street had a surface of unspecified materials, was of ca. 4.5 m width (measuring from the published plan), and looks to have been part of a planned development, as earlier buildings in this area were levelled as part of the development: P.M. Watson, “The Byzantine period: Byzantine domestic occupation in Areas III and IV”, in Pella in Jordan 2: The Second Interim Report of the Joint University of Sydney and the College of Wooster Excavations

at Pella 1982–1985, edd. A.W. McNicoll et al. (Sydney 1992) 163–81, with plan in fig. 27 on 167, with plates 108–18, endplates 4–6. Of street characteristics, the late antique streets installed in the area were of gravel and of 3.6 m to 4.4 m wide: A. Walmsley, “Households at Pella: domestic destruction deposits of the mid-8th c.”, in Objects in Context, Objects in Use: Material Spatiality in Late Antiquity, edd. L. Lavan, E. Swift, and T. Putzeys (Late Antique Archaeology 5) (Leiden and Boston 2007) (239–72) 250. To this we can add an earlier, more general, comment that the streets of Pella in the ‘Byzantine’ and Umayyad periods were of “packed mud and pebble”: edd. A.W. McNicoll, R.H. Smith and B. Hennessy, Pella in Jordan 1: the First Interim Report of the Joint University of Sydney and the College of Wooster Excavations at Pella 1979–1981 (Canberra 1982) 132. Of phasing, there were almost no architectural remains from the 5th c., even though some floor levels and deposits indicated occupation here: Watson (1992) 166. Of the late antique phases, phase 3a represents the architectural changes and associated new surfaces, whereas 3b represents the occupation levels within this architectural setting: Watson (1992) 167. Of dating: (i) Phase 3a levels (relating to construction) had as their latest coin an issue of Justin I (518–27), whilst imported ceramic bowls were slightly later in date. In this phase such imported bowls included ARS Hayes 99C [587.5–612.5 Bon] and Hayes 104C [Hayes 104C is 550–650 Bon] and LRC 10A [570–612.5 Atlante], with imitations of ARS Hayes 104A [487.5–650 Bon] and 104C: between AD 550 and 625 (referring to LRP 155, 166, 345f.; SLRP 516). The excavators preferred to date this phase to ca. AD 525–50, noting that Hayes offered his dates as provisional ones to be revised by further work. However, the development of Late Roman pottery studies since Watson’s report, reflected in the Bonifay dates of ARS Hayes 99c and Hayes 104C suggest that this phase of construction belongs in the date range 587.5–612.5, based on the last dated ceramic find. (ii) Phase 3b levels (relating to occupation) initially suggested to the excavators a date in the third quarter of the 6th c., with the latest coin being of Justinian (AD 527–65). However, the coin evidence again led Watson to change the dating of imported red slip bowls. These included LRD / CRS 9C [LRD Hayes 9C = LRD Hayes 10 in Atlante where it is 580/600–700] and LRC 10C [600–650 Atlante], plus LR Amphora 1 [350–650 RADR], a late example of Gaza amphora with red dipinti. The dates recommended by Hayes were 580/600 until the end of the 7th c. (citing LRP 345f., 381f., SLRP 526–29), which Watson changed to the period 550–75: Watson (1992) 163–81. The report (p. 166) clarifies that the street and the rooms that front it belong in phase 3a, and were set at a level 1.38 m higher than an adjacent

APPENDIX 1: B7 Urban Street Systems, in Newly-Built Areas passage of phase 2. However, the revised dates given by Atlante (published in 1981) for LRD 9C / LRD10 and LRC 10C in Atlante, plus the revised Bonifay dates for pottery in phase 3a below, suggests that the context is later. Yet, here we are dealing with occupation layers, not a series of construction fills or layers put down in a single moment (as for phase 3a). Thus, we can imagine the occupation occurring sometime from the start of 3a’s date range (so 587.5) to 25 years after the start date of its latest find, which is 625. Dating summary (construction of street and associated buildings): range 587.5–612.5, midpoint 600, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs8 (contextual coins), publication 3/3. 15ORI Scythopolis (Acropolis): A paved road is associated with the major late antique church excavated by FitzGerald, inside the former temple temenos of the Tel: G.M. FitzGerald, Beth-Shan Excavations 1921–23: the Arab and Byzantine Levels, Beth-Shan III (Philadelphia 1931) site plan. From roughly measuring off a photocopy of FitzGerald’s site plan, the width of the street appears to be ca. 4.5 m. The plan shows that it is paved in rectangular slabs of different sizes, with sorted rows of uneven width. No dating evidence has been produced for the church, which is of an unusual round form. It has now been entirely removed by excavators seeking earlier levels. Recent excavations have reported that there are late antique houses bounding this road: A. Mazar, “Tel Bet She’an 1994–1996”, Excavations and Surveys in Israel 18 (1998) 45–46. Publication of excavations on the Tel by Mazar have confirmed the density of ‘Byzantine’ period occupation in this area, although I could not find strong archaeological indicators for the chronology, except for a statement that the paved road in square H/12 was the subject of two sondages, which revealed that the street paving was laid on a fill of grey earth that contained “Byzantine pottery and a few unidentifiable coins”: A. Mazar, “Area H: stratigraphy and architecture”, in Excavations at Tel Beth-Shean 1989–1986 vol. 1 From the Late Bronze Age IIB to the Medieval Period, A. Mazar (Jerusalem 2006) (301–308) 308. Thus, the exact moment of the reoccupation of the acropolis must remain a matter of speculation. It is tempting to place it in the 5th c., after the late 4th to early 5th c. legislation ordering the closure and demolition of temples, but this is to be prejudiced against the possibility that abandonment and reuse of the area could not happen earlier. There is some modification to the propylon at the base of the mound (see appendix F7b), which was probably repaired sometime between 385–92 (as suggested by an inscribed lintel close to the propylon). Sometime later, a vaulted stairway which joined the propylon to the square below, was demolished and replaced by an industrial area, from which no dating evidence has so far come: G. Foerster and Y. Tsafrir, “City center (north): excavations of the Hebrew University expedition”, Excavations and Surveys in Israel 11 (1992) (The Beth Shean Excavation

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Project 1989–91) (3–32) 12. A TAQ is the Islamic invasion of Palestine in 635, after which time such a dominant site would not likely have been given over to a major church. Dating summary: range 385–635; midpoint 510, class Cs6 (absolute, inscription close to possible setting), z (regional urban patterns), publication 3/3. Long date. 15ORI Scythopolis (Amphitheatre quarter): Reports on the quarter built around the amphitheatre have appeared with G. Foerster and Y. Tsafrir, “The amphitheatre and its surroundings” in: “The Bet Shean project”, in Excavations and Surveys in Israel 6 (1987–88) (35–43) 38–42; Y. Tsafrir and G. Foerster, “The Hebrew University Excavations at Beth Shean 1980–1994”, Quadmoniot 107–108 (1994) 113–16; Y. Tsafrir and G. Foerster, “Urbanism at Scythopolis-Bet Shean in the fourth to seventh centuries”, DOP 51 (1997) (85–146) n. 55 promises a further report on the amphitheatre houses to appear in Excavations and Surveys in Israel, but this has not yet been published as far as I know. The best summary is in Tsafrir and Foerster (1997) 104–106. Of internal features, the new street established through quarter road curves round the apse of a building projecting into the roadway, revealing that it is following an irregular route and is not part of any grid pattern. However, it is curving round about 90 degrees from one straight section to another (see plan of Foerster and Tsafrir (1987–88) p. 39 fig. 15 and p. 40 photo 25), rather like the short straight street sections of Abu Mina and Jerusalem. Thus, whatever street organisation is being used here (and Scythopolis does not have a grid elsewhere), it cannot be described as organic in the same way as the streets seen in some bourgades, such as Shivta. On the width of this street of 5–6.4 m and its paving, see appendix C1. Of phasing and dating, few ‘Roman’ walls are known here, and habitation seems to have begun in the 5th c., according to Tsafrir and Foerster (1997) 104–106. Habitations began to appear in part of the cavea of the amphitheatre, notably narrowing the main entrance to the complex and blocking two stairways giving access to the cavea from this point, whilst other buildings appear in the area. The only TPQ for these events comes from the creation of the amphitheatre from a circus, during the 4th c.: Tsafrir and Foerster (1997) 104–106. No more details are given, although I know from hearing an on-site talk in 1998 that the finds for establishing the date of the conversion of the amphitheatre included pottery. These developments are given a TAQ by the above-mentioned new street, dated by an inscription to AD 522, which is set at a much higher level than the amphitheatre entrances: “In the days of Flavius Orestes, the most magnificent comes and archon, the famous work of the pavement and the new water supply system was carried out under the supervision of Silvanus son of Marinus, the illustrious comes and the protos (first of the citizens), in year 15 of the indiction, year 585.” (AD 522): Foerster and

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Tsafrir (1987–88) 38–42, who give, on p. 41, the text of the inscription and note that its letters were filled with lead. Dating summary: range 300–522, midpoint 411, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs6 (absolute, inscription providing TAQ), publication 1/3 (ceramics) and 3/3 (inscription). 15ORI Jerusalem (District on the south side of city): This area expanded outside of the old city wall, apparently from the 4th c., before it was enclosed by new walls provided by empress Aelia Eudocia, on a steep triangular area of land in which new streets did not follow the existing street grid, perhaps partly in response to the challenging topography, though this is not to say that the area was all an unplanned / organic development. The new gate at the southern apex of the triangle is about 625 m south of its predecessor in an earlier wall, thus giving an idea of the scale of the area which was fortified, measuring roughly from O. Gutfeld, “The urban layout of Byzantine-period Jerusalem”, in Unearthing Jerusalem—150 Years of Archaeological Research, edd. K. Galor and G. Avni (Winona Lake 2011) (327– 50) 328 fig. 1, which is admittedly quite a basic plan to use. The width of the new triangular area is uncertain but seems to have been around 200 m wide, from the placing of new streets. A TAQ for the completion of the initial street system of this district should be provided by the fortification constructed by Eudocia, the dating of which depends upon a number of literary sources. The most straightforward is Malalas 14.8 who ascribes the building of a wall at Jerusalem to the empress, who was resident here from AD 443–60 (PLRE 2.408–409 Aelia Eudocia (Athenais) 2). For an early source when the walls were not built see Itinerarium Burdigalense 590–95 (AD 333) (P. Geyer ed., Itinera hierosolymitana saeculi IIII–VIII (CSEL 39) (Vienna 1898) (1–33) pp. 21–23; T. Tobler and A. Molinier edd., Itinera hierosolymitana et descriptiones Terrae Sanctae bellis sacris anteriora et latina lingua exarata sumptibus Societatis illustrandis Orientis latini monumentis, vol. 1 (Geneva 1879) (1–25) 17–18. For the state of the area in the 5th c., confirming the walls had been built there is Eucherius, Epitome de locis aliquibus sanctis (Tobler and Molinier ed. vol. 1 (1879) (49–54) 51). A source from ca. 570 confirming Eudocia as the builder of the walls of the area, that includes the pool of Siloam, is the Itinerarium Antonini Placentini (Piacenza Pilgrim) 25 (Geyer (1898) (157–91) 166). For a commentary on all these texts dating the building of the wall in this quarter see G.J. Whitman, The Walls of Jerusalem. From the Canaanites to the Mamluks (Mediterranean Archaeology 4) (Sydney 1993) 209–17. See appendix J1 for published analyses of archaeological evidence of streets from this area. Another source for dating the district is the Madaba mosaic of the later 6th c.: the district is visible as an irregular area, lacking the straight streets of other parts of the city.

A TPQ for the development of this new quarter is more difficult to identify. We have evidence from three areas. (i) north edge of the new zone, by the south-west corner of the Temple Platform: One building (building 7066), originally constructed in the Early Imperial period, was occupied in the 4th c., before being destroyed by fire: numismatic finds put the occupation in the reign of Julian the Apostate: H. Geva, “The Ophel and the remains near the south-western corner of the Temple Mount”, in The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, vol. 2, edd. E. Stern, A. Lewinson-Gilboa and J. Aviram (Jerusalem 1993) (773–74) 773. (ii) south part of the new zone: It is not clear if this area was empty prior to the 4th c. or if it was partially built up. [N.B. this is the Tyropoeon Valley, but confusingly also called ‘the Ophel’ in some publications by Crowfoot, a name which is now more usually used to refer to excavations in an area to the north-east, just below the south side of the Temple Platform]. There were certainly already some structures in this new zone, such as the Siloam pools. Otherwise, the area seems to have been abandoned following the sack of the city by Titus in AD 70, and had been excluded by the Early Imperial walls. This receives some confirmation from the excavations of Crowfoot and FitzGerald in the south of the district, which recorded a lack of coins from the years between the sack of Jerusalem (AD 70) and ca. AD 270. There were only 9 coins from this period, in contrast to over 100 coins from the 250 years before the siege, and 23 from the first Jewish revolt. They are especially numerous in the 30 or 40 years prior to the Persian conquest of AD 614, and show a gap in the 5th c., perhaps explained by 6th c. clearances in this area, according to the excavators. Hoards were excluded from this calculation: J.W. Crowfoot and G.M. FitzGerald, Excavations in the Tyropoeon Valley, Jerusalem 1927 (London 1929) 29. It also appear to the excavators that pottery associated in a dump with a large number of 3rd c. coins was found widely across the site, as if the revival of the area took place ‘around the time of Constantine’, although strictly it might be a little earlier (later 3rd c.), as they do not mention 4th c. coins, and are here referring to historically attested changes brought by Constantine to the city: 30. A number of house walls found here clearly predate (and were demolished by) the later 6th c. street established in this quarter, though other house walls were left to coexist with the street, showing that the establishment of the road system of straight sections but not in a grid, is later than the occupation of the quarter and in a more haphazard manner: pp. 30–41, esp. 38 and with fig. 9 on 40. One wall had a piece of ‘Late Roman pottery’ in it, but otherwise no fixed TPQ can be established for these walls: 34. Crowfoot enlarged on his dating theories in a subsequent article. The replanning of

APPENDIX 1: B7 Urban Street Systems, in Newly-Built Areas this area is revisited by J.W. Crowfoot, “Ophel Again”, PEQ 77 (1945) (66–104) 70–77 with plan 1, which confirms he is talking about the same area. He notes substantial levelling operations, with the extension of the ground surface towards the west with construction of new walls and new levels containing mostly coins and potsherds “from around the time of Constantine”, although fragments of stamped tiles of the 10th Legion (transferred to Gaul after the middle of the 3rd c. apparently) were present, suggesting the reoccupation might have been slightly earlier than this, or [in my view] that there were residual or reused tiles in these deposits (pp. 70–71). A ‘Byzantine’ replanning of the area (5th c., with continued renovation / expansion into the 6th c.) saw a straight street established running roughly north-south, with buildings aligned with the road. (iii) east part of the new zone, south of the Temple Platform / ‘Ophel’ area: The earliest occupation seems to have been 4th c. However, the houses excavated here are dated to the 6th c., in those areas where the late antique levels of occupation were reached. This area has been recently efficiently summarised, with references to key evidence, by B. Gordon, “The Byzantine quarter south of the Temple Mount enclosure”, in The Temple Mount Excavations in Jerusalem 1968–1978 Directed by Benjamin Mazar Final Reports Vol. III: The Byzantine Period, E. Mazar (Qedem 46) (Jerusalem 2007) (200–15) 207–14 and p. 204 fig. 18.3. The buildings were not arranged on a grid, and superficially appear to be an organic development, with a lack of a clear orientation in their walls, as well as in their street settings, which were of irregular widths. There is, however, an overall north-south east-west orientation in their winding streets / alleys, which is not related to the micro-topography, but rather reflects the presence of the southern wall of the Temple Mount, which has in some way encouraged terrace walls and streets to align with it. The individual streets vary in width: street C, an east-west street, being between 1.5 m and over 5 m in width (p. 208), whilst two other eastwest streets, to the south, are 1.5 m to 2 m wide. Notably the east-west streets are set at similar distances apart (ca. 25 m) and levelled at heights of ca. 5 m apart (p. 209). Street C is partially stepped and has a water channel running under it, whilst the east-west streets that cross it are unpaved. North-south street F is also stepped in part and has a water channel (pp. 208–209). The dating of this third area (south of the Temple Platform) is complex, as few meaningful sealed deposits have been recovered from beneath the houses, which often have finds indicating occupation throughout the late antique period. There is a marked absence of Early Imperial finds and structures, in comparison to other areas of the city (p. 212). Three physically separate areas of housing can be dated independently, one on the west side of the

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zone (Houses 6, 7, 8 on Gordon (2007) 204 fig. 18.3), one at its centre (Houses 10–11), and one on the east side (where House 13 has produced dating evidence). (A) In the case of Houses 6, 7, 8 (a closely-packed group of small houses), there was a single undisturbed locus from “beneath the floors of the buildings”. This locus contained 94 coins, under stone paving, the latest of which dated to 383–95, with no coins or pottery of the 5th and 6th c., leading to the suggestion that the construction date of the complex was in the 4th to early 5th c. (p. 213). (B) In the large houses 10–11, both of which have a peristyle, we have further dating evidence. In House 10 we have a sealed locus L23049 under a pavement of the latest phase, including pottery of the ‘Early Byzantine period’, such as rouletted bowls and ARS, which dated the construction of the latest phase of the building to the 4th c.: E. Mazar, “The Southern House” in Mazar (2007) (113–46) 138; E. Mazar and B. Gordon, “The pottery from the peristyle and the southern houses”, in Mazar (2007) (149–76) p. 149 and p. 150 plus p. 173 fig. 15.12, specifying ARS Hayes form 32/58 [287.5–312.5 LRP], dated to the late 3rd to early 4th centuries, and Magness Rouletted Bowls form 1, dated from the 3rd to 5th c. [ca. 287.5–500 in J. Magness, Jerusalem Ceramic Chronology: circa 200–800 CE (JSOT/ASOR Monograph Series 9) (Sheffield 1993) 185, who gives form 1 a suggested date of late 3rd / early 4th c. to 5th c.)]. We do not have significant dating information for the first phase of House 10. However, the walls of House 10 are post-dated by those of House 11 (p. 213) (the Peristyle House). Here, finds are of 4th–5th c. date, and not later; unfortunately, floor levels were not preserved meaning that these finds only provide associative dating evidence: E. Mazar, “The Peristyle House”, in Mazar (2007) (99–112) 111. Nonetheless, taken together the evidence from house 10 and 11 suggests that primary construction of both houses occurred within the 4th c. [N.B. Gordon accidentally uses the term ‘House 10’ in his text on p. 212 for the Southern House, when he means to call it House 11, as he does on his plan. It is certainly House 11 / Southern House that is the correct site of locus L23049]. (C) In House 13, a sealed locus produced 2 Beit Nattif lamps [not checked by me] and sherds dating to the “Early Byzantine period”: L. Shapira and O. Peleg, “Pottery Lamps from the Byzantine Period from Area XV,” in The Temple Mount Excavations in Jerusalem 1968–1978 Directed by Benjamin Mazar. Final Reports vo1. 2. The Byzantine and Early Islamic Periods (Qedem 43) E. Mazar (Jerusalem 2003) (104–108) 104 and E. Mazar “Architecture and stratigraphy” in the same volume (3–85) 58 (accidentally not seen). The sequence of this house cannot be related to the surrounding buildings, but is set within a planned area of north-south and east-west streets, with a unified eastern façade to the group of houses of which it is part. This

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APPENDIX 1: B7 Urban Street Systems, in Newly-Built Areas

suggests the whole sub-area around House 13 was built at the same time. A date of the “Early Byzantine period” is suggested for this house, which in this publication means the 4th–5th centuries AD (as is made clear in E. Mazar, “Introduction” in Mazar (2007) (xi–xiv) xi. Overall, it seems that the new urban area south of the Temple Platform, outside the old city walls, was occupied from sometime in the 4th c. (probably not later than AD 375, based on House 10), because its last building phase seems to have been over by the end of the 4th c. The district was definitely well-developed by the 5th c., when the wall of Eudocia was built around it (sometime in 443–60). There were subsequent major redevelopments of the streets in the district in the 6th c., which were of 5–6 m and often specifically 5.4 m wide, which included some replanning: see appendix J1. Dating summary (for initial establishment of the district): range 300–375, midpoint 337.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs8 (contextual coins), x (historical texts). 16AEG Alexandria: The district of Kom el Dikka was rebuilt in the early 4th c. after a period of abandonment, south of the Caesareum, and south-west of the junction of roads L1 and R4. It involved the infilling of buildings, the building of new structures, and the suppression of some streets, for example firstly, the east-west street (which is not L’α: G. Majcherek pers. com. 2017) at sector MX and MXV (where a small theatre / odeon was built), and secondly a street running north-east / south-west, which was not aligned with the street grid. The first suppression created an insula of double size. A new north-south road was then established west of R4, west of the Odeon, with a colonnade on the west side. This new road subdivided the double insula (created by suppressing the east-west street) into two long rectangles. See plans in the ever-helpful work of J. McKenzie, The Architecture of Alexandria and Egypt 300 BC–AD 700 (New Haven, Connecticut-London 2007) 179 fig. 299, 179 fig. 305, 206 fig. 357, 207 fig. 358. Note especially that on p. 174 fig. 298 and 175 fig. 299. McKenzie reconstructs grids for the Early and Middle Imperial periods, showing that already by the 3rd c. there were in Alexandria new short streets inserted following one or other axis of the street grid, thus dividing square insulae into rectangles. However, the nature of the monumental buildings in this area makes it likely that we are dealing with a single replanning around the baths in which the streets were rebuilt at a higher level. Of internal features, the insulae sizes recovered in the excavations of Kom el-Dikka are exceptionally large, but not for Alexandria, where the sizes were close to 300 m east-west and perhaps 280 m north-south, from the very small scale plan of McKenzie (2007) 178 fig. 304. The insulae rebuilt at Kom el-Dikka is of an unknown north-south measurement but ca. 102 m wide measuring from the plan of G. Majcherek, “The Late Roman auditoria of Alexandria:

an archaeological overview”, in Alexandria. Auditoria of Kom el-Dikka and Late Antique Education, edd. T. Derda, T. Markiewicz and E. Wipszycka (Warsaw 2007) (11–50) 13 fig. 1 (wall to wall perimeter measurements), on which the new north-south street to measures between ca. 7 m and 9 m wide, excluding its portico, whereas the original northsouth street R4, one block to the east, measured 9 m and had no portico. This seems to be more accurate than the map of MacKenzie (2007) 179 fig. 305, which has straightened out some of the streets different widths. However, G. Majcherek pers. comm. 2017 informs me that the correct width for the new street is 8.2–8.3 m. Of dating, evidence for this rebuilding of the street system was obtained at the following 4 sites. (i) A new north-south street (or portico as wide as a street, see appendix C4) was established opposite the ‘small theatre’. Under the new thoroughfare was revealed House A in test pit MX: G. Majcherek, “Alexandria 1994”, Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean 6 (1994) 13–14, fig. 1. Here, the final occupation level in the building below the portico contained “ceramic material … mostly of Gazan and local Mareotic amphorae, as well as several lamps and Egyptian tableware, indicating the end of the 3rd century or beginning of the 4th century AD as the most plausible date” for the last occupation phase [these vague ceramic types were not checked by me], with the abandonment and levelling stated to be mid 4th c. [with no evidence presented to support this]. More detail of excavations here can be seen in M. Rodziewicz, Alexandrie III. Les habitations romaines tardives d’Alexandrie à la lumière des fouilles polonaises à Kôm el-Dikka (Warsaw 1984) 33–41, figs. 16–17, 19–24, although I have not been able to find key dating indicators in the part I was able to see. The report does, at least, confirm that the road had a paving of stone flags (p. 35 and with p. 40 fig. 24). The same report reveals the ground at the theatre was both levelled and raised up by around 2.5 m for the road (p. 35). (ii) Under the cavea of the ‘small theatre’, was the house in trench MXV. This house was partially destroyed by a sudden catastrophe, perhaps an earthquake, with a fire in the late 3rd or early 4th c. This is indicated by burnt timbers on the floor, with finds of late 3rd to early 4th c. date coming from the debris: G. Majcherek, “Excavations in Alexandria 1992–1993”, Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean 5 (1993) (11–20) (n.32d) 20. (iii) Under the baths of Kom el-Dikka, and between them and the cistern, was found House FA. This house was partially destroyed in the first half of the 4th c. based on finds from the destruction layer, according to the excavators, who cite no specific evidence except for a “Greek inscription referring to the cult of Tyche dated to the 2nd–3rd c. AD (inv. no. 4399)” from a layer below the floor on which the destruction layer fell: G. Majcherek, “Kom

APPENDIX 1: B7 Urban Street Systems, in Newly-Built Areas el-Dikka excavations 1995–1996”, Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean 8 (1996) (17–31) (n.33a) 29–30. Adjacent to House FA, Building FB was destroyed in the late 3rd or early 4th c. AD, the “most plausible” date based on the bulk of the unspecified pottery (lamps, tableware and commercial amphorae): G. Majcherek, “Kom el-Dikka Excavations, 1997/1998”, Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean 10 (1998) (29–39) (n.32d) 39. (iv) Near the main east-west street, the House with a Garden, east of street R3, was abandoned probably in the 4th c.: M. Rodziewicz and D. Abdo-Daoud. “Investigation of a trench near the Via Canopica in Alexandria”, Bulletin de la Société Archéologique d’Alexandrie 44 (1991) (151–68) 154. The dating is a little tentative, being based on assumptions about the growth of garden soil, and the presence of one stratified amphora of a Hermopolite (Ashmunein) type A [= AE3 and given as 250–750 for all variants in Dixneuf], previously dated to the 5th–6th c., in the layer which includes remains of the wall stucco and wall paintings. This is thought to be earlier, because floors and doors in this post-house layer show many repairs. Furthermore, it is likely that a Hermopolite amphora type B [= AE7 and given as 350–1000 for all variants in Dixneuf] and other Late Roman amphora (including one from Gaza), which were not from stratified contexts, may reflect the latest use of the complex in this post-house layer, prior to it being abandoned and then covered over for the new urban development. The trench was not big enough (at ca. 5 m by 3 m in size) to produce conclusions about the surrounding street grid, but it does show discontinuity in the area around the 4th c., as seen elsewhere. The pessimistic conclusions drawn by P.M. Fraser, “Byzantine Alexandria, decline and fall”, Bulletin de Société la Archéologique d’Alexandrie 45 (1993) (91–105) 92–95, on these urban developments (deep fill as a sign of the city of the Ptolemies being buried etc.) do not seem justified, as the renewal of the urban quarter with a new road and new public buildings was a substantial investment, and one not equalled in many other cities in this period. Other summaries which add little: M. Rodziewicz, Les habitations romaines tardives d’Alexandrie, Alexandrie 3 (Warsaw 1984) 43, 50; B. Tkaczow, Topography of Ancient Alexandria. An Archaeological Map (Warsaw 1993) 114 site 61A. Further parts of the Late Roman phase can be identified from considering the heights of adjacent roads. Thus, north-south street R4 was given a road paving of polygonal basalt and limestone blocks at the higher Late Roman level, after a fill of earth and stones (“pietrame”), ca. 2 m deep, was laid down over the ruins of earlier structures: B. Tkaczow, The Topography of Ancient Alexandria (Warsaw 1993) 106–107 site 53; A. Adriani, “Scavi e scoperte alessandrine (1949–1952)”, Bulletin de la Société archéologique d’Alexandrie 41 (1956) (1–48) p. 2 with fig. 1 (plan with road

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marked as no. 53), p. 3 with fig. 2 (section, from which I measured) and p. 6–8 with fig. 6 (photograph of paving). Similar observations have been made for street R3 in Tkaczow (1993) 112 site 59 with limestone and basalt block paving, 6 m wide, suggesting that the replanning reached here too, though at the latter site it is apparently difficult to judge if the road is Roman or Late Roman from external evidence, so I have not followed up the references. Overall, it is difficult to judge when in the 4th c. the replanning happened. The limited publication of ceramics and absence of any coins [which must surely have been present] means that the dating here can only be regarded as provisional. It is tempting to accept a mid 4th c. date suggested from the House with a Garden, east of street R3. This involves pushing the chronology forward from the early to mid 4th c., on account of unstratified sherds. We badly need more ceramics to be published from this district or new sondages to take place. However, the balance of evidence, from unspecified finds ending in the early 4th c., seems to be suggesting that the last occupation of the houses took place by 312.5, followed in some sectors by post-house occupation, of which the last properly dated find has a start date of 350. It would be fair, therefore, to situate the rebuilding in the 25 years period after this, although the quality of the information overall causes me to classify this as a poor date. However, as an afterthought, we should note that coins of Constantius II (reigned 337–61) have been found under the seats of the small theatre in this quarter: K. Michalowski, L’art de l’ancienne Égypte / The Art of Ancient Egypt (Paris 1971) 505, which is reported as having undergone many remodellings. It is likely that this contextual date (“coins” are given in the plural) for work on the theatre actually relates to the primary construction of the theatre and so sits well associatively with our date for the whole quarter. I do not think it is currently useful to entertain theories based on the earthquake of 365 and the Alexandrian tsunami, referred to in appendix C4, as we lack diagnostic evidence for earthquake damage prior to this redevelopment. Dating summary (for establishment of new quarter): range 350–75, midpoint 362.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramic), Cs3 (associative, phase of development, with new heights for new streets), publication 3/3 (for one ceramic context), 1/3 (for other where finds not specified). Poor. See also (appendix C2): 08PAN Gorsium-Herculia (Tác): A new city with cross-axial colonnaded streets was established in the period 244–330; 09DAC Justiniana Prima: A new city with cross-axial colonnaded streets was established between 535 and 573, most likely before 565, though with some areas possibly extending up to 616; 12CPL Constantinople: A new city of Constantine was established between 324 and 330, with some parallel streets north of the Forum of Theodosius (see text), but also a

170 great number of colonnaded streets, prior to the Notitia of 425. See also (appendix J1): 15ORI Caesarea Palestinae (Caesarea Maritima) (north-south street in field G9): This street was excavated on the north side of the city, midway between the Cardo Maximus (here called Street II) and cardo W1 (here called Street III, running to the theatre). The street, 4 m wide, was established in the ‘Late Byzantine’ phase of AD 550–640 [actually 550–614 from reading the report], as revealed by pottery recovered from a sondage beneath the paving, which produced no evidence of an earlier street. The paving was of roughly rectangular stones laid in rows of irregular width. Discounted (appendix J3): 07AFR Cuicul (Djémila): we are not sure of the dating of the so-called ‘Christian quarter’ which contains some buildings of Early Imperial date: see in the main text of the street architecture chapter for discussion on urban expansion; 07AFR Carthage: The expansion of narrow roads into the backfilled parts of the circular harbour in the 6th c. is significant, but the streets were only traced for a very modest distance (ca. 12 m). It is likely the expansion was only of one urban block, as the circular harbour survives partially intact to the present day only a few metres south of this area.

Major Streets C1 New Major Streets, Not Colonnaded

10MAC Delphi (Main Street / ‘Via Sacra’ leading up to the theatre through the sanctuary from Roman Agora): The street surface is composed of large blocks of reused material, which I was able to see in April 2017. One suspects it might have been restored by early excavators in a few places but that its form is essentially late antique. Certainly we hear from reports (see below) of the systematic recovery of epigraphic fragments from the roadway, and even of systematic excavations of its build-up layers and earth layers below them. At the top, above the temple is some modern heavy restoration with very large gaps between the slabs, on account of very hard modern mortar, which looks like modern ‘crazy paving’. Finally, the road has been covered over in many places by modern concrete stairs: L. Lavan site observation April 2017. Of architectural form, a variety of almost entirely rectangular slabs are used, of varied sizes, some of which were slightly damaged before being included in the street. The slabs are sorted into short rows, which rarely if ever reach the full width of the street. They are generally well-jointed, with a few occasionally cut to fit. The levelling is not bad but not good either. The blocks are heavily worn, and polished. Some have visible clamp marks etc., but no decorative architectural elements or columns are visible. There are

APPENDIX 1: C1 New Major Streets, Not Colonnaded some undisguised slabs also with cut holes, but these are relatively few. Some look like they were quite worn when they entered the road, although this impression might be the result of restoration confusing the exact arrangement of the slabs: L. Lavan site observation April 2017. Of sidewalks, there is a kerb in places, on two sides (i.e. by the Treasury of the Athenians) of reused blocks, that is contemporary with the late road surface. There is a sidewalk in one place of a few blocks, which goes with the paving. By the temple, 3 or 4 large slabs of what looks like a sidewalk are present on the east? side of the road: L. Lavan site observation April 2017. Of phasing, the late road surface overlaps several of the honorific / votive monuments like bases and hemicycles, demonstrating that they were not considered ready to be spoliated at this time. This is also clear from the absence of obvious architectural elements of any kind from the paving: L. Lavan site observation April 2017. It appears likely that the installation of the road is associated with the rebuilding of the Roman Agora ca. 350, a date which is based on contextual ceramics, contextual coins, reused material, and inscriptions almost in situ, the last of which provide a TAQ of 350: see appendix K2b. This is because the route of the late ‘Via Sacra’ runs through it, in a final 75 m section, where an earlier paving is used but where the route is clear from the final surviving part of the late paving, which turns a corner to face the Roman Agora. Of dating, this looks like an early spolia context, probably later 3rd or 4th c., when the monuments were still all intact, leading into the heart of the sanctuary which was still functioning. It does have fairly poor aesthetics in terms of colour and sorting, but seems to have had a good supply of stone to choose from. The presence of reuse provides a TPQ of after the mid 3rd c., whereas the rebuilding of the Roman Agora suggests a rough TAQ of 350, as it represents a monumentalisation of the same route, even if the precise relationship is lost. There were many monumental spaces one might rebuild in 4th c. Delphi, and the choice to rebuild the Roman Agora is likely connected to the fact that a route was planned or already constructed here through the sanctuary. The fact that the road does not contain broken architectural elements, unlike the rebuilt Roman Agora, suggests that it was built in different circumstances before such material became available. In terms of a TPQ, the road (with its sacralised stone pieces) is, however, unlikely to date to before the Constantinian removal of the Serpent column of Delphi (Euseb. Vit. Const. 3.54; S. Bassett, The Urban Image of Late Antique Constantinople (Cambridge 2004) 224–27 no. 141), which was the first de-sacralisation of the site under a ruler not sympathetic to the old cults, in order to decorate his capital between his conquest of the East 324 and his death in 337. For this reason I use a TPQ of 324 for the works.

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Of reused material within the road paving, some pieces have been identified: P. Amandry, “Chronique delphique”, BCH 105.2 (1981) (673–769) 733 lists reuse of materials in the road and under the road, which are as follows: (i) A series of inscribed plaques, known as the Wall of the Accounts, originally located between the south-east corner of the Polygonal Wall and the Altar of Chios, were reused in the street: L. Lemerle, “Chronique des fouilles et découvertes archéologiques en Grèce en 1939”, BCH 63 (1939a) (285– 324) 308–309. Sometimes they were cut down if they were too big when used as slabs, or broken up to use as hard-core under the street surface: J. Bousquet, “Delphes. Comptes du IVe siècle”, BCH 66–67 (1942–43) (84–123) 84. According to this article the excavation of 1939 explored the underlay (“sous-sol”) of the street completely, but Lemerle (1939) 309 notes an earlier investigator (E. Bourguet) also removing parts of these inscriptions from the road here. (ii) An inscribed cornerstone from the north wall of the Treasury of Siphnos which held a ‘table of honours’, including crowns offered to individuals by cities and koinia: J. Bousquet, “Inscriptions de Delphes, II”, BCH 64–65 (1940–41) (76–120) 110–11. Remarkable for the surviving blue paint on the “fond des lotus,” it was reused just next to its display point, in the fill under the street paving. However, V. Déroche, Études sur Delphes paléochretienne. Mémoire de 3e année (Dissertation École Francaise d’Atenes 1986) 142 notes that despite this reuse of the treasure of Siphnos in the paving of the Via Sacra, parts of the treasury building itself remained intact for a century or more. (iii) P. Amandry, “Rapport préliminaire sur les statues chryséléphantines de Delphes”, BCH 63 (1939b) (86–119) 86–87 states that the roadway included inscriptions but also fragments of most of the monuments of the sanctuary, including the krepis (i.e. stepped base) of the temple. Amandry (1939b) 87 also noted (where M.R. Demangel dug a trench in front of the portico of the Athenians) that a hoard of sacred objects was buried in a pit underneath the roadway under a deep natural silt fill of 2 m: objects of ivory, little figurines, fingers, eyes, a statuette of master of wild beasts, ivory figurines, a semi-circular plaque featuring a Gorgon head and other fabulous objects. But this results from a much earlier time: a fire in the sanctuary of the 6th or 5th c. BC. Of use, several slabs have striations for animal traffic, though some are in secondary use as the striations are sideways, perhaps as a result of restoration. Wheel-ruts are absent: L. Lavan site observation April 2017. A glass workshop was installed at one point in a niche on the new street: Déroche (1986) 173–174. Dating summary: range 324–350, midpoint 337, class Cs4 (reused material), Cs6 (absolute, inscriptions almost in situ), Cs3 (associative, phase of development), Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs 8 (contextual coins), x (historical texts).

15ORI Scythopolis (Street by amphitheatre): Here, a new residential quarter developed, which was served by a major road leading from the city centre: G. Foerster and Y. Tsafrir, “The amphitheatre and its surroundings” in: “The Bet Shean project”, Excavations and Surveys in Israel 6 (1987– 88) (35–43) 38–42. Of architectural features and dimensions, this road was paved with heavy basalt slabs, including a drain. One section had its slabs arranged in straight rows (section B, 5.8–6.4 m wide, with a markedly convex profile), another section with a herringbone pattern (section A, 5–5.4 m wide). I have viewed this street and seen (in a section) the large ceramic pipe running directly under a ?brick-lined rectangular water channel closed by slabs, both of which were arranged within the build-up for the basalt road surface. It was perhaps about 30 cm wide and 40 cm deep, though this is based on guesswork from a photo without a scale, rather than a measurement I took when on site: L. Lavan site observation 1998. Of phasing, this street is unlikely to have been planned as an entirely new route, as the paving is secondary to several of the buildings which line it. It is likely that an earlier, more shambolic road has been tidied up. I myself saw a second ceramic water pipe accompanied by a brick-lined water channel, both at a lower level. The coincidence of a water supply works and a new paving (in new-cut blocks except for the block bearing the inscription) qualify this as a new street, such is the scale of the development. It is worth noting that the inscriptions only relate to section B of the road. Therefore, section A might be a little earlier or a little later than section B, though it is of the same style, level and urban setting. Of dating, the report of Tsafrir and Foerster tells us that in section B of the road, between here and the civic centre, inscriptions were set into the street. One of these was carved on a limestone block from the amphitheatre wall: ‘+The beginning of the wonderful work of the most magnificent archôn Flavius Orestes.’ As this is at the junction of sections A and B it is likely to refer to the construction of part B of the road. The second inscription, about 55 m east of the former, also on section B, seems to have been cut on a block reused from the platform of the master of games of the amphitheatre. The letters were filled with lead and read: “In the days of Flavius Orestes, the most magnificent comes and archôn, the famous work of the pavement and the new water supply system was carried out under the supervision of Silvanus son of Marinus, the illustrious comes and the prôtos (first of the citizens), in year 15 of the indiction, year 585.” (AD 522). We have no independent dating evidence for section A, on the west side, at this point in the city. However, the terminal of the same road in the city centre, which has a similar herringbone paving to section

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A, has coins of Justinian (527–65) and Justin II (565–74) in the cracks and in the mortar bedding: see appendix C3. This suggests that the two sections were built very close together in time, as part of the same building project. Overall, it would seem that we have a continuous street building project of early to mid 6th c. date, which reached this area around 522, where one governor is claiming credit for the bit completed in his short tenure. It reached the city centre somewhat later. Given that we are only concerned with the segment running past the amphitheatre, I will give the date as that recorded in the inscription, which is AD 522. Dating summary: 522, class Cs6 (absolute, inscription, absolute date, for part of the roadway), publication 3/3.

C2 New Colonnaded Streets, as Part of New Urban Quarters

Colonnaded streets in fortified camps, such as the camps at Dionysias / Qasr Qarun in Egypt (Tetrarchic), Palmyra (late 3rd c.), Iatrus (early 4th c.), El-Lejjūn (4th c.), Drobetta (5th c.) are not considered in this section. Similarly, I do not consider the colonnaded street in Diocletian’s Palace at Split, or that inside the episcopal complex of Philippi, even though both communicate well to the viewer the sensation of being inside a colonnaded street. 08PAN Gorsium-Herculia (Tác): There are porticoes along both sides of the western half of the east-west ‘Decumanus Maximus’, described by J. Fitz, “The excavations at Gorsium”, ActaArchHung 24 (1972) (3–52) 4 fig. 1, 11 fig. 5). It is by far the best publication on the site, although guidebooks and other summaries have been published, such as J. Fitz and J. Fedak “From Roman Gorsium to late-antique Herculia: a summary of recent work at Tac (NE Pannonia)”, JRA 6 (1993) 261–73. See this last text for references to controversies over the significance of the change of the settlement’s name. The porticoes serve a late 3rd–4th c. reconstructed city, named as ‘Herculia’ in the late 3rd c. It. Ant. 265.1 (edn. of Cuntz and Wirth (1990) p. 39), suggesting a Tetrarchic renovation; however, there is no archaeological evidence that ties the main restoration of the site to this time and at least some of the work may have been started some decades earlier. Together, the porticoes give the impression of a colonnaded street, though they belong to separate structures. They can be considered as a new colonnaded street, if the excavator’s theory of a general rebuilding is accepted, which seems to be possible on account of levels. The street can be studied in three separate areas: in porticoes by the Villa Amasia and the tabernae opposite, which have the same orientation, and outside the Basilica Maior (for which there is no certain evidence of Christian use) where there is a portico / pedimental façade of 4 piers, which actually has a different orientation and does not look to be part of the same scheme.

Of dimensions, taken from the various poor quality city plans I have of Gorsium, the overall street width measuring from the back wall of the porticoes seems to be about 15.5 m, with the south portico measuring 4 m (outside the tabernae) and the north portico measuring 5.5 m outside the Villa Amasia (these last two measurements made by me from plans of Fitz (1972) 4 fig. 1, 11 fig. 5), giving a roadway width of ca. 6 m. Of architectural features, at no point do any columns or column bases seem to have been found, although reconstructed columns now stand on site. It is possible that the porticoes had piers. The street surface is described as paved on pp. 10–11, but resurfacing is also mentioned. There is no explicit statement that the 4th c. surface was paved as far as I could see, though a remark that the ‘Basilica Maior’ was aligned with a paved or cobbled road surface on p. 12 fig. 6 suggests that it was. Of phasing, Fitz (1972) 11 points out that the floor level of the Villa Amasia and the tabernae portico is the same, and corresponds with the level of the street that he considers 4th c. (probably meaning it is the last on the site). I have not found this correspondence asserted for the Basilica Maior, which is set on a different alignment to the other two porticoes, and so less likely to be part of the same architectural configuration. Of dating, Fitz entertains a general theory that the whole site was rebuilt after the Roxolani invasions of AD 260, but this is far from certain. The precise elements of dating pertinent to the street are as follows: (i) Fronting the Villa Amasia, on the north side of the street, there is a colonnade which has a TPQ provided only by 2nd c. finds (no later than 160s–70s). Coins of the 4th c. in layers above the villa foundation (pits, etc.) provide a contextual date, though it is difficult to be sure of their significance from the report, except that a coin of Valentinian was found in a well cutting the granary attached to the complex. He notes that “the age of the villa, on the basis of the 233 coins found on its floors and in the sewer of the bath, can be dated between the years 330 and 367.” (ii) Opposite the Villa Amasia, outside the ‘tabernae’, on the south side of the street, there is a second colonnade which is thought to be 4th c. because it is at the same level as the ‘4th c.’ street: Fitz (1972) 3–52, esp. 10 and 11, with appendix Y4 for details of their form and dimensions, and my important observation that in their first phase the ‘tabernae’ building seems to have been constructed as horrea. (iii) The ‘Basilica Maior’ dates to sometime after 244, due to a coin hoard of Philip Junior (made Caesar to his father Philip in AD 244, killed in 249), which was found in the building underneath the construction, from which early 3rd c. coins also come, providing a TPQ. The presence of a putative baptistery in the corner of this building, which does not face east, has been suggested as late 4th or 5th c. in dates based on regional parallels.

APPENDIX 1: C2 New Colonnaded Streets, as Part of New Urban Quarters Overall, there does not seem to be a good basis, on published evidence, for a Roxolani destruction in 260, as Fitz imagines. Rather, there is a TPQ of 244 for the construction of the Basilica Minor and there is an associative date, based on insufficiently published numismatic evidence, for the occupation of the Villa Amasia in the years 330–67, which presumably means its construction occurred in or before ca. 330. The colonnades of the main street do not form an architectural unity, so it is possible that they developed over a number of decades. However, the street level is a unifying factor, and the shops seem to have been set back to allow a colonnade, as part of a coherent monumental presentation, on both sides of the street, as one approached the city gate. Thus, the site will be retained in my appendix as a possible colonnaded street development and I will date it no earlier than 244 and no later than the 330 construction date of the Villa Amasia. For the tabernae on the south side see appendix Y4. Given the name of the place, suggesting a Tetrarchic renovation, it is perhaps reasonable to envisage a construction date in the first half of that range. Dating summary: range 244–330, midpoint 287, class Cs7 (TPQ coins), Cs8 (contextual coins), Cs3 (associative, phase of development), publication 2/3. 09DAC Justiniana Prima (Acropolis): The east-west colonnaded street through the acropolis is preserved best on the north side, where some sculptural elements still survive. On the south side, the portico is usually shown on plans as a series of white lines, as if it does not survive: see for example: B. Bavant, “Caričin Grad and the changes in the nature of urbanism in the central Balkans in the 6th century”, in The Transition to Late Antiquity, on the Danube and Beyond, ed. A. Poulter (Proceedings of the British Academy 141) (Oxford 2007) (337–74) 364 fig. 15 (plan). The northern portico, extending for some 80 m, survives at stylobate level, with any architectural elements that once stood above missing. It has been published in J.-P. Caillet and Č. Vasić et al., “La rue centrale et la ‘Maison aux Pithoi’”, in Caričin Grad III: L’acropole et ses monuments (cathédrale, baptistère et bâtiments annexes), edd. J.-P. Caillet, N. Duval, M. Jeremić and V. Popović (CEFR 75/3) (Rome and Belgrade 2010) (557–78) 565–69, 573–75 with p. 501 fig. 6.31 (plan) and p. 586 fig. 7.6 (photos of piers). The architectural elements that can be seen there today (L. Lavan site observations June 2014) do not belong here, but were derived from the cathedral, as explained on p. 561 fig. 7.3, though three column shafts were found reused in the late wall blocking the portico (p. 562). The portico was composed of 18 piers of brick, surviving to a few courses (up to 5) high, so columns cannot be excluded above this height. The stylobate consisted of rough schist blocks, bounded in clay and mortar. The last pier to the east was rounded. The piers were of 1.6 m or 1.3 m by 0.78 m, depending on whether they were cut out on the road side in a rectangular cutting to

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take a downward drain pipe, which implies that for these piers at least, no column could be present above, making arcading of some kind likely: the drain niches are present in every other pier on the reconstructed plan of p. 500 fig. 6.31, making high arcades containing one intermediate column in each arcade possible, or simply arcades along the whole length. These drains were in each case provided with a ground drain 30 cm wide and 35 cm deep, lined with schist and covered by a brick vault, running into a sewer in the centre of the road (p. 567). Between the piers were set blocks of tufa, laid to prevent water from draining into the portico. The portico gave access to a variety of rooms to the north, such as the ‘Episcopal Palace’, and an annexe, but not regular cellular rooms, which would be comparable to shops elsewhere; no trace of the portico floor survived (p. 573). The portico measured 3.5–3.6 m wide (p. 573), but from plans it is obvious this is not including the stylobate, so the correct measurement from back wall to front of stylobate (which measures 97 cm to 98 cm on p. 567) should be from 4.47 m to 4.58 m wide. The floor of the portico was set about 30 to 35 cm below the level of the stylobate (p. 573). The southern portico was far less well-preserved and has only been clearly uncovered in two short sections. It has been published in J.-P. Caillet and Č. Vasić et al. (2010) 568 and 574–75. It appears to have been of the same construction as the north portico. Whilst the piers do not survive, traces of mortar confirm their presence, and that they were set at ca. 3.12 m apart. On the east side it ended with a rounded piece of masonry comparable to the north portico, whilst on the west side it was an integral part of the west portico of the cathedral, which was indeed what this street portico, without any recorded openings, backed onto. We cannot confirm if the piers had integrated drains, as on the north side (p. 569). The floor of the portico raised itself up in stages, to compensate for the slope, which the north portico did not (p. 574). The floor covering is known only at its extreme western end, where it was of square tiles laid in a grid aligned with the portico, which was continuous with the front portico of the cathedral, which faced onto the fortification, rather than onto a street proper. The stylobate was 75 cm wide, of schist, with the portico measuring 3.5 m to 3.6 m, so giving a total measure from the back wall to the front of the stylobate of 4.25 m to 4.35 m. Further details of the southern portico can be obtained from the west portico of the cathedral, which is contiguous with the street portico, and likely built as part of a single project: see N. Duval et al., “La cathédrale-description: le portique de façade et l’atrium”, in Caričin Grad III: L’acropole et ses monuments (cathédrale, baptistère et bâtiments annexes), edd. J.-P. Caillet, N. Duval, M. Jeremić and V. Popović (CEFR 75/3) (Rome-Belgrade 2010) 138–42 with p. 141 fig. 2.32–35. and 146 fig. 2.40 (plan). Here, some

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supports for column bases and one damaged column base have been found, suggesting the street portico also had colonnades rather than piers (p. 139 and visible on the reconstructed plan on p. 146). The tiles of the portico floor extend beyond the area necessary to front the church, and so should also relate to the street portico. I do not wish to speculate further on the height of either of the street porticoes or their roof structure, given that so little survives of the superstructure. Large quantities of the melted lead found in the northern portico, as in the building behind, probably relate to the portico roof rather than to a lead foundry. The roof may have perished in a final fire seen elsewhere on the site. The presence of lead plaques in other porticoes in JP suggest that its use in portico roofing is likely (see below on porticoes of upper city): V. Kondić and V. Popović, Caričin Grad. Site fortifié dans l’Illyricum byzantin (Belgrade 1977) 317. Of dimensions, the north portico measures 3.5–3.6 m wide, as does the southern portico. The roadway itself measures 7.3–7.5 m wide (Caillet et al. (2010) 562) Of paving, the roadway is covered in tufa slabs that are rectangular or trapezoidal in shape and of very variable size 1.1 m by 0.8 m to 0.65 m by 0.35 m (p. 559 fig. 7.2), which reveals a paving that is somewhat ‘polygonal’. There are basic attempts to make the stones fit next to others of the same size, but the attempts at rows were irregular in width and direction, and extended for a few blocks only. This means that the total road dimension from portico back wall to back wall is of a minimum possible of 16.02 m and a maximum possible of 16.43 m. Of sewers, the channel was set in the axis of the street, and measured 55 cm to 60 cm wide and 1.2 m deep, with the bottom of the sewer composed of schist in the western section and bricks on the east. It was covered with a vault of schist blocks, with the top of the vault at the level of the street slabs. The sewer took in drains from roof water from the rooms on the north side of the street and from the atrium of the cathedral to the south. There was also a manhole cover which allowed access from a side drain by the gate, and another drain block which permitted street surface water to flow into the sewer, next to the city gate: Caillet et al. (2010) 563–64, with 570–71 fig. 7.8. Duval et al. (2010) 146–47 fig. 2.40 for the drain coming from the west side of the cathedral into this sewer. Of dating, we can say that the porticoes of the acropolis street seem to form a unified architectural scheme from their similar design and comprehensive drainage planning. They were certainly conceived in conjunction with the cathedral church, which shared a common portico, and likely with the building to the north, but the relationship with the fortification [which is an early part of the site, see below, next entry] is not clear, thus they were not necessarily part of an immediate initial design of the city. See Caillet

et al. (2010) 568 and 578 for further comments. We can also note that this city, often identified with the city founded near Justinian’s birthplace of Tauresium by Nov. 11 in AD 535 (with Procop. Aed. 4.1.19), has, according to recent researchers, produced no evidence for occupation before ca. AD 530 and no evidence after AD 615 [the date of decisive Slav invasions of this area]. However, a substantial later unmonumental phase suggests that monumental construction came to a halt with the death of Justinian in AD 565 or shortly afterwards, though we cannot prove exactly when: Bavant (2007) 337–38, with V. Ivanišević, “Caričin Grad— the fortifications and the intramural housing in the Lower town”, in Byzanz—das Römerreich im Mittelalter, vol. 2.2, edd. F. Daim and J. Drauschke (Mainz 2010) (747–75) seen as a page proof with page nos. 14–21. Dating evidence for the occupation of the Acropolis, in the form of coins and seals from this area, has recently been published: V. Popović and C. Morrisson, “Monnnaies et sceaux”, in N. Duval, C. Metzeger and M. Jeremić, “Catalogues des éléments de mobilier” 1 or 2 are of Justin I, 3 or 4 are of Justinian, whilst the rest extend up to Phocas (three coins being of 603–610, two of 604–605); the seals all seem to be of 6th to early 7th c. date. There are, thus, so far no grounds for believing that the acropolis (the most obvious place for a settlement core) was occupied before the reign of Justinian, as we must allow for the fact that coins of Anastasius could be lost in the 25 years following his reign, a rule followed elsewhere in this study. V. Kondić and V. Popović, Caričin Grad: Utvrđeno naselje u vizantijskom Iliriku (Belgrade 1977) 373, describe a hoard not earlier than AD 613. The latest coin from the site is a hexagram of Heraclius dated from 615 to 625: V. Popović, “Decorative parts of the costume and the silver jewellery during the Great invasions”, in Antique Silver from Serbia, ed. I. Popović (Belgrade 1994) 135 and 354, no. 330. I use 616, as marking the end of Roman urban occupation in the region with the penetration of the Slavs as far as Thessalonica in that year. Although it is very likely that the acropolis porticoes and their related buildings were completed early in the development of the site, we have at present no structural arguments or finds to prove this. Dating summary: range 535–616, midpoint 575.5, class x (historical text), Cs3 (associative finds), z (regional development), publication 3/3. 09DAC Justiniana Prima (Upper City) (4): 4 new colonnaded streets are found in the upper city around the round plaza below the acropolis. They are very similar in design, though the Eastern Street is presented in detail in the publication and so is the main case study here. I draw throughout on the descriptions in V. Kondić and V. Popović, Caričin Grad. Site fortifié dans l’Illyricum byzantin (Belgrade 1977) esp. 54–67, 98–99, 322–25, 338–39, with p. 50 fig. 30, p. 55 fig. 34, p. 58 fig. 37, p. 61 fig. 40. The land underneath the

APPENDIX 1: C2 New Colonnaded Streets, as Part of New Urban Quarters streets was levelled to form smooth gradients prior to their construction, by dumping sandy earth, whilst the rest of the site is arranged on terraces, making steps up and down into the streets and porticoes necessary. Of dimensions, the streets measure 6.16 m to 6.9 m across (7.5 m for Eastern Street), with porticoes 3.02–3.35 m across (4 m for Eastern Street). The streets are paved with limestone blocks (new-cut, but irregular in size and edging it seems, based on fig. 6 and fig. 30). Of architectural features, the porticoes are made of brick piers of somewhat irregular size and intervals, usually relating to the surrounding buildings, on a stylobate with shops behind. The portico is paved with bricks arranged diagonally in relation to the stylobate. The piers carried brick arcades and a wooden roof of tiles and lead plaques (all elements found on site, burned or otherwise). The piers in the west, east and south streets sometimes have a square slot in the front, as if they housed a vertical down-drain pipe coming from the roof. The northern street portico was covered in a square diamond pattern, presumably of bricks, whereas the round plaza portico is in stone slabs (p. 50 fig. 30). We learn on p. 323 that the street porticoes were paved with brick, usually in a diamond pattern, except in sections that gave access to certain buildings on the south street, where stone slabs were used (p. 324). On the east street portico, there are also two further piers shown on the plan (p. 61 fig. 40), inside the portico, abutting against colonnade piers, which might represent reinforcement piers, secondary to the main build. Of shops, on the north side of the eastern street and on part of the west side of the southern street, see appendix Y4 and for planned shops not built on the other streets, see the ‘discounted’ section of the same appendix. Of the sewers, there is a central drain in the road, which seems to be open, but is covered in part by schist slabs, before joining the main drain of the city, outside the city wall. N.B. also that the western street has a central drain fed by portico roof drains (p. 50 fig. 30), whilst the northern and southern streets have piers with a cut-out for a drain pipe which must have led to similar street drains (p. 58 fig. 37; p. 61 fig. 40). The frequency of drains coming into the sewer is not clear, but it appears to be once every two or three piers on the western street from p. 50 fig. 30. Of phasing, the streets and the round plaza seem to be an early central element of the design of the primary foundation, connecting as they do its core area, around the round plaza where an imperial statue fragment was found (p. 53 fig. 33), almost certainly of Justinian, which is likely to have been an early element on site. It is not entirely clear what is the structural sequence of the walls from the outline plans of p. 50 fig. 30 (and subsequent plans in this book), but most walls of the colonnaded streets are shown

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as conjoining with the round plaza, rather than abutting it, although the western street abuts and thus is later than the fortification of the acropolis. Of dating, this settlement, often identified with the city founded near Justinian’s birthplace of Tauresium by 11 Nov. in AD 535 (with Procop. Aed. 4.1.19), has produced no published evidence for occupation before the first quarter of the 6th c. and no evidence after AD 615. Nonetheless, a substantial later rudimentary phase of building suggests that monumental construction came to a halt with the death of Justinian in AD 565 or shortly afterwards, although we cannot prove exactly when, before the whole region was definitively lost to Roman control by 616. See the first entry in this appendix C2 for details. However, in this case, excavations from the southern end of the south street of the upper city have revealed part of the portico, which is clearly in phase 2 of the principia complex, before phase 3 which seems to begin around 572–573 based on coin finds (see appendix Y4), which provides an alternative TAQ for the building of the west portico of the south street. It seems a little risky to apply it to all of the roads in the upper city, but given their architectural unity around the plaza it does appear reasonable. I do not consider theories that the existing street plan of the upper city is a secondary phenomenon, following on from an initial plan to build the round plaza further west. I know of no evidence that the initial plan was carried out, other than one or two building alignments, and so there is no evidence yet to push the TPQ of the road system forward from 535. Dating summary: range 535–73, midpoint 554, class x (historical text), Cs3 (associative finds), publication 3/3. 09DAC Justiniana Prima (Lower City): The main street in the lower city has been exposed as a road for 63 m, mainly on its western side. It was straight and colonnaded, though the portico fronted no shops, on the western side at least, though doors did exist through it. It seems likely that monumental buildings were intended for the south-west area beyond the western portico, but were never built. Subsequent building behind the western portico’s rear wall was not of a monumental character. The street is described in V. Ivanišević, “Caričin Grad—the fortifications and the intramural housing in the lower town”, in Byzanz— das Römerreich im Mittelalter, vol. 2.2, edd. F. Daim and J. Drauschke (Mainz 2010) 747–75, of which I was able to obtain the page proofs, not the printed article. We can add that the colonnaded portico was organised in a repeating sequence of two columns then a pier: V. Ivanišević pers. comm. 2016. Of dimensions, the width of the street can be measured near its terminus by the southern gate to the lower city, using Ivanišević (2010) proof page no. 15, fig. 11. This

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gives approximate dimensions for the western portico of ca. 4.6 m (back wall to front of stylobate), the roadway ca. 9 m, and the eastern portico ca. 5 m. Of architectural features, the floor of the western portico was of beaten earth, though with ducts for draining off water, whilst the eastern portico was of bricks, which seem to have been laid in a square pattern, judging from the fig. 11 cited below, and aligned with the portico, not in a diamond pattern. Two column bases were preserved in situ, whilst a number of fragmented pillars and an Ionic capital with impost were found in the excavation of the residential quarter to the west that are believed to have come from the street (proof page no. 13). There was a central sewer that ran down the middle of the street which was paved with slabs, which from the plan do not appear to have been wellcut and were laid without rows in a rather haphazard fashion, though without indications of reuse as far as I know. Of dating, in the view of Ivanišević (2010) proof page 5–6 the dating is based on the street’s relationship to the southern fortification wall. It appears to have been reset, away from the line of the central sewer to align with the position of the new gate, with which its two porticoes are aligned, producing some odd angles at their termini which are both 5 m from the gate itself. Thus, it is claimed that the street is contemporary with the wall. This southern fortification wall is believed to date to the first phase of the construction of the city by Ivanišević because it is bonded with the city’s aqueduct, which he regards as an essential prerequisite for the large scale building work that took place in the first phase of the city. Furthermore, three folles struck before the monetary reform of 538 have been associated with (discovered beside the outer face of) the western wall of the south-west corner tower. However, within the lower city is a well-dated church which is built on a different alignment to the rest of the quarter. The church was previously considered to have predated the building of the street and wall. This ‘transept basilica’ has produced a monogram of Justinian from a column capital not paralleled by one of Theodora on another, so making the church post-date the empress’ death in 548, but being before the emperor’s death in 565. Ivanišević wishes to disregard this in favour of the road and fortification being primary. This theory is taken further by his colleague Bavant, who thinks that the close alignment of the church with a bend in the road, created to align the upper and lower road sections to gates in the walls, proves that it must post-date the road. Nonetheless, there are still reasons to oppose this new dating. The aqueduct theory is only suggestive: there might well have been another water source in the first phase of the city that we do not know about. Furthermore, the coins found in association with a tower do not give a solid date of any kind. The streets certainly post-date the

fortifications and are conceived in relation to them, but we have no structural join and so we cannot be sure of contemporaneity, only that they came sometime after the fortifications. I do not see at all why the transept church absolutely cannot pre-date the road, especially as the area of the join of the façade to the road has not yet been excavated. Thus, until this happens, it still seems most likely that the street reached its present form after the transept church was built, so from 544/45 onwards, regardless of the date at which the southern fortification was built, which is still unknown.: Ivanišević (2010) page proof 5–6, drawing on V. Kondić and V. Popović, Caričin Grad. Site fortifié dans l’Illyricum byzantin (Belgrade 1977) 169–71, 373–74, with B. Bavant, “Caričin Grad and the changes in the nature of urbanism in the central Balkans in the 6th century”, in The Transition to Late Antiquity on the Danube and Beyond, ed. A. Poulter (Proceedings of the British Academy 141) (Oxford 2007) (337–74) 353–356. A TAQ of the death of Justinian is again likely, after which one might expect large-scale building work to have been curtailed, and the second rather unmonumental 6th c. phase of the city to have begun, but we cannot prove this, and have to use a TAQ of 616, when Roman control of the Balkans was definitively lost. Although the arguments presented by Ivanišević and Bavant are very subtle, unfortunately they are still inconclusive in the absence of stratigraphic observation and dated finds from sealed layers, and risk being more internally coherent than they are externally verifiable. Doubtless further work at this exemplary site will resolve the issue. V. Ivanišević pers. comm. 2013 informs me that 342 coins from this area support his new dating, so I look forward to their publication to assess their value as associative or contextual finds. Dating summary: range 544–616, midpoint 580 (though date before 565 is likely), class Cs7 (TPQ coin), z (regional development), publication 3/3. 12CPL Constantinople (colonnaded streets in general): It is not easy to determine how many colonnaded streets existed at Constantinople, as only one has so far revealed archaeological traces, from which it is difficult to determine a date. The best source for the city as a whole is the Notitia Urbis Constantinopolitanae of ca. AD 425, which notes the position of 52 porticoes. It has been reasonably suggested that these porticoes are individual porticoes of colonnaded streets, on one side of a road. There is some sense in this, as the regions which have most contact with the route of the main street running up from the centre to the Forum of Theodosius and on to the Holy Apostles (8 and 11), do seem to have the most porticoes of regions outside the monumental core. However, there must have been other colonnaded streets in the city. The high number of porticoes in region 2 (14), 3 (15) and 4 (14) suggests other colonnaded avenues, especially in the case of regions 2

APPENDIX 1: C2 New Colonnaded Streets, as Part of New Urban Quarters and 4, which were beyond the terminus of the Mese at the Milion. Furthermore, region 13 (Galata) and region 14 (an extra-mural settlement, perhaps Blachernae or Regium) both had porticoes (3 and 2 respectively) despite being far from the main route. Here we might be dealing with maritime porticoes, such as that mentioned by Procop. Aed. 1.11.1–9, as being provided by Justinian at the Arcadian Baths, looking out on the Marmara, or (occasionally) nonstreet porticoes within a monumental structure, such as the portico which might surround a major bath building or forum. Riverside porticoes have been observed at Dara in Mesopotamia by M.M. Mango, “The porticoed street at Constantinople”, in Byzantine Constantinople. Monuments, Topography and Everyday Life, ed. N. Necıpoğlu (Leiden 2001) (29–52) 46 n. 64, and are described at Edessa in the later 6th c. by a passage in the Chronicle of Michael the Syrian 10.13 (J.-B. Chabot ed. and transl. Chronique de Michael le Syrien, 2 vols. (Paris 1899–1924), where the bishop Severus built them and a palace. Given the low number of porticoes in the Notitia for some regions (e.g. region 6 which has only one), we must imagine that the majority of roads outside the monumental centre were not porticoed, and perhaps correspond to Zosimus’ description of them as being narrow and crowded (Zos. 2.35). Literary sources do provide dates for the construction of a handful of colonnaded streets, yet those of the new city remain almost entirely undated. The strongest observation that can be made from the literary sources is that, by the time of the Notitia in ca. AD 425, the regions of the new city of Constantine contained a great many porticoes, which were clustered around the main street leading from the Forum of Constantine through the Forum of Theodosius, up to the gate past the Church of the Holy Apostles. These must all be of late antique date, excepting the small possibility that some were earlier extra-mural porticoes which led to an unknown pre-Constantinian extra-mural sanctuary. 12CPL Constantinople (Upper Mese, first phase): The upper section of the Mese, west of the Forum of Constantine to the Forum of Theodosius, ought to date from after the refoundation by Constantine, as it is entirely within the new city. Here we probably have a single large-scale unified phase of development: nothing indicates the contrary in street form or building alignment. I thank J. Bardill for alerting me to the significance of each area discussed here, although I take responsibility for the interpretations offered. In the case of areas D and E, along with the area around Kara Mustafa Paşa Medresesi, observations depend on rough plans of masonry structures, revealed without stratigraphic excavation or serious record, that only appear to be late antique on account of their alignments. Of dimensions: There are three opportunities to suggest the overall width of the street, and its internal features.

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(1) ‘Arch of Theodosius’: On the east side of the arch, from which the Mese descends to the Forum of Constantine, two parallel sewers have been excavated. These sewers run down the centre of the street, straight through the axis of the centre of the arch. They are found elsewhere on the Mese, and seem to reveal here the centre point of the road, given their position in the arch. See Mamboury’s plan of 1943 from R. Naumann, “Neue Beobachtungen am Theodosiusbogen und Forum Tauri in Istanbul”, IstMitt 26 (1976) (117–41) fig. 2, plus W. Müller-Wiener, Bildlexikon zur Topographies Istanbuls (Tübingen 1977) 261 with fig. 294, area labelled ‘E’. The foundations of the arch provide one basis for estimating street width, as the arch was originally equipped with side portals: W. Müller-Wiener (1977) fig. 298, p. 263; Naumann (1976) fig. 2. These side portals which would normally have taken pedestrian traffic, and could have been connected to porticoes, as has been proven at Thessalonica (see below). If we accept the reconstructed plan of the arch, as published by Naumann, then the street is likely to have been very wide, as the width of the full arch, to its outer bases, is ca. 36 m. If the porticoes of phase 1 had their back wall aligned with the northern outer arch pier, and the stylobate aligned with the northern face of the northern inner pier (so as to enclose the pedestrian passage entirely) they would have been each ca. 10 m in width, with a roadway width of ca. 16 m. However, the surrounding excavated structures suggest that the arch cannot be as wide as Naumann envisaged. The maximum width of the street here comes from the position of a major terrace to the south-west and southeast of the drains: Müller-Wiener (1977) fig. 294, p. 261, area labelled ‘D’ and ‘E’, which represent unpublished excavations, ca. 80 m and ca. 200 m east of the Arch of Theodosius [N.B. ‘D’ has been accidentally omitted by Müller-Wiener on his plan, from a logical east-west sequence of letters marking each area]. The position of this wall, which is an enormous structure aligned with the axis of the sewers running through the arch, suggests a street width of 32 m, from imaginary portico back wall to portico back wall. The position of this terrace wall implies that the two external piers of the arch (which Naumann only saw part of) were half the width of the inner piers and were engaged to the terrace wall / portico wall on each side. This would have given much more reasonable porticoes, of ca. 8 m in width. Significantly, phase 2 of the Forum of Theodosius (which Mamboury thought was 6th c., but which I date to 531–37 based on spoliation theory: see appendix C3 on second phase of this street), extends to a new eastern street portico (7.5 m wide) for the Mese, which used a back wall line corresponding with the northern pedestrian portal of the arch, which even eliminated it. This arrangement may have echoed the street plan of the first phase, in which the

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porticoes were also aligned with the arch side portals. In phase 2 the new portico stylobates eliminated the exterior bases of the arch. In phase 1 it is possible that the stylobates held the same line but did not touch the arch, as for the Constantinian arch at Ptolemais, the closest parallel for which is our arch here in Constantinople (see C.H. Kraeling and G.R.H. Wright, “The Street of the Monuments”, in Ptolemais: City of the Libyan Pentapolis, C.H. Kraeling (Chicago 1962) 75–78. Thus, the final measurements for the overall street width, from portico back wall to portico back wall, seem likely to be ca. 32 m, with porticoes of 8 m each and a roadway width of 16 m, including any sidewalks, on which we have no information. (2) ‘Areas D and E’: Further down along the Mese, at ca. 70 to 80 m east and ca. 170–200 m east from the Arch of the Forum of Theodosius we can determine further dimensions for features of the street from excavations shown in two areas on Müller-Wiener (1977) fig. 294, p. 261, area labelled ‘D’ and ‘E’ [though the letter D is omitted from the plan]. In area D (closer to the Arch), the terrace wall, which runs parallel with the Mese, is doubled on its south side, extending beyond the line of the ‘portico back wall’ described above. Both walls form part of a line of heavy cellular substructures, with a further row of piers extended out beyond them in a third parallel line. These foundations probably carried a series (2) of square rooms (likely shops) of ca. 8 m by 6 m in size (ca. 2.5 m by 4 m internally), projecting beyond the portico rear wall. Perhaps there was a second room at the back of the shops, which was carried out onto piers found here to the south. Further, to the north of these substructures, inside the road area, is what might be a stylobate for the southern portico, aligned with the outer edge of the inner pier of the arch. In area east (further from the Arch), the terrace wall reappears, as does the ‘stylobate’, and the double sewer, but there are no ‘shop’ substructures visible. If we take the double sewer as being central to the road, these foundations would suggest a roadway of 16 m in width, with porticoes of 8 m on the south side (from stylobate to rear wall of portico), with shops behind, so a total street width of 32 m. The parallel drains do not now appear to be central to the road but are closer to its northern side. However, it is obviously not possible to be sure about the date of these walls, though the major terrace wall is more likely to have framed the topography of the area. (3) Kara Mustafa Paşa Medresesi: There is a third opportunity to suggest the dimensions of the Upper Mese, ca. 230 m to the west of the Forum of Constantine, in the area near Kara Mustafa Paşa Medresesi, for which Mamboury published a plan which tentatively overlaid a reconstructed street of 27 m in width (including its porticoes). This reconstructed plan was based on the hypothetical path of the main Mese drains (projected from observations made

elsewhere), and on a basement and two parallel stretches of wall found at this site, which were both aligned with the ‘drain line’. The two parallel walls were set 4 m apart, measuring from the centre of each wall, which M. assumed to be the back of the northern portico and the back wall of the shops behind: E. Mamboury, “La nouvelle citerne byzantine de Tchifté Sérail”, Byzantion 11 (1936a) (167–80) pl. 17. Hopefully, more robust observations can be made at some point in the future that will identify both the nature of the wall and the real line of the drains. Of architectural features, we can note possible evidence for the colonnade. Along the line of the Upper Mese going towards the Holy Apostles church, south of S. Polyeuchtos, a number of granite columns have been found without formal contexts (in Ottoman contexts or dumped in the gardens here), which may relate to the street, of 60–65 cm in their upper diameter: R.M. Harrison, Excavations at Saraçhane in Istanbul, vol. 1: The Excavations, Structures, Architectural Decoration, Small Finds, Coins, Bones, and Molluscs (Princeton-Washington D.C. 1986) 14, 130–31. It is possible that the porticoes of the Mese are described in Cod. Theod. 15.1.45 (AD 406), where fire regulations establish that wooden constructions attached to the intercolumniations of the upper porticoes should be removed and wooden staircases leading to them should be replaced in stone. However, we cannot assume that other streets were not double-storeyed. It is a shame it is necessary to spill so much ink on what are essentially very flimsy hypotheses about what these streets were like. Our certain knowledge of architectural features is limited to paving. At the lower end of the Upper Mese, where it joins the Forum of Constantine, within the expected route of the Mese, an area of paving was recorded by Mamboury. The paving is aligned in straight parallel rows and perpendicularly to the road, with slabs of irregular length. The width of slabs within one row is the same, but it is not certain if all rows were the same width, though they look comparable. The plan, from the archives of the German Institute, is printed in J. Bardill, “The Palace of Lausus and nearby monuments in Constantinople: a topographical study”, AJA 101.1 (1997) (67–95) 72, fig. 3, with the scale visible on the similar plan in C. Mango, “Constantine’s porphyry column and the chapel of St. Constantine”, Δελτίον XAE 10 (1980–81) (103–10) pl. 18a. This shows also that the paving further down the Mese, actually within the Forum of Constantine, on the same line, is of the same character and alignment, except it is clear that the rows of paving are of irregular width, as well as the slabs themselves being of irregular width. This makes it likely that the rows in both streets are part of a single programme of works, probably of the Constantinian phase given the absence of any disjuncture with the column. Regarding their material, the slabs seem to be described as ‘blocs de grès’ on Mamboury’s plan

APPENDIX 1: C2 New Colonnaded Streets, as Part of New Urban Quarters (“bases de grès blocs de grès”), but this is likely an error. In M.’s short prose description of the area he mentions that the Forum of Constantine, is paved with thick marble slabs of dimensions 0.57–1 m in width to lengths greater than 1.5 m: E. Mamboury, “Les fouilles Byzantines à Istanbul et dans sa banlieue immédiate aux XIXe et XXe siècles”, Byzantion 11 (1936b) (229–83) 254. E. Dallegio d’Alesio, “Les fouilles archéologiques au pied de la colonne de Constantin”, EchOr 29 (1930) (339–41) 340 confirms that the slabs here are of white (thus Proconnesian) marble. Thus it is likely that Mamboury’s annotation of ‘grès’ is mistaken here and he was referring to something other than the paving. In one case, we can definitely confirm the presence of marble slabs as road paving. Two marble water channels of blocks cut from reused pieces, including capitals and column segments, were found at the junction of the Mese and the Makros Embolos, halfway between the fora of Constantine and Theodosius. These blocks had wheel ruts on one side confirming that they had formed part of the paving of the street and had a name inscribed on every pipe in large letters. These stone pipes apparently extended all the way to the Beyazit baths (also on the Mese, Forum of Theodosius) before turning north on the Bozdoğan Kemeri street: Author unknown “Finds at the Çarşıkapı underground passage”, Istanbul Arkeoloji Müzeleri Yilliği 11/12 (1964) 209–10. At the bottom of the Lower Mese a similar arrangement was in place; water channels are mentioned, being made of beautiful marble blocks and terracotta water pipes (“conduites de terre”) but here it overlies (“s’appuyait contre”) the sandstone pavement of 12 cm thick: Mamboury (1936b) 253. These small slabs have also been identified in excavations at the Milion, as the first phase of street paving, likely Severan, based on Zosimus 2.30.2–4 and the distinctive alignment / width of the Lower Mese: see appendix C3 below. The absence of the mention of ordinary marble paving slabs in either of these sites makes it at least possible that only the water channel blocks were in marble at Çarşıkapı, and that the paving around it was in sandstone. However, it is easier to think that the sandstone paving (only certainly attested on the Lower Mese) is Severan, and that only here was the water supply picked out in marble, unless it was part of a now lost Constantinian pavement in marble. On the sewers, see section C3 on the Lower Mese below. Of phasing, it is difficult to arrive with any great confidence in determining the structural sequence of the main road of the capital of the East. However, we can build arguments based on the architectural unity of the street and its relationship to surrounding plazas and substructures, for which we have some dating evidence. The road’s relationship to the sewers, which run the full length of the street, is also a unifying factor from which we can associate paving etc. Whilst the sewers are pretty constant, the width

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of the street as we can detect may have varied. This is a very wide street of 32 m, which sets it apart from the Lower Mese, which was probably only some 16.5 m wide in its first phase, including its porticoes. Of dating, the commencement of building at Constantinople in 324 and the mention of the arch of the Forum of Theodosius by Marcell. com. AD 479–80 (480.1) provide termini for the dates of the street, but the existence of a monumental route leading to the Golden Gate in the Constantinian wall (for which see appendix F7a), strongly suggests it was complete by the consecration of the city in 330. Dating summary: range 324–330, midpoint 327, class x (historical text), Cs3 (associative, phase of development), publication 3/3. 12CPL Constantinople (Troadesian Porticoes): The branch of the main street which led from the Forum of Arcadius to the Constantinian Golden Gate was known as the Troadesian porticoes (located in region 12 in the Notitia of ca. AD 425), the name of which refers to the violet granite-like stone from the Troad which was used to build them. Granite columns were seen lying on the Cerrahpaşa Caddesi, near the Forum of Arcadius by Cyril Mango in 1982, which might relate to the Troadesian porticoes: C. Mango, Le développement urbain de Constantinople (IV–VII siècles) (Paris, 2nd edn. 1990) 27 n. 32. It is likely that these porticoes went out towards the Constantinian Golden Gate, or less likely from this gate to the Theodosian Gate. Hesychius (of Miletus) 39 implies that the Constantinian Wall was set at the Troadesian porticoes. Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 307 ‘AD 450’ (edn. of Whitby and Whitby (1989)) and Malalas 14.22 describe an earthquake of AD 447 which caused damage between the Troadesian porticoes and the bronze tetrapylon [Guidoboni Catalogo no. 156]. It is tempting to see this as the same event as fire damage recorded by Marcellinus Comes, AD 448, on the Troadesian portico and the towers of the gates (plural), although he records an earthquake, a year earlier, affecting the nearby Forum Tauri. The account of Marcellinus Comes might suggest an alternative hypothesis that the Troadesian porticoes were not a normal street portico but were instead a decoration closely attached to the Constantinian Golden Gate. Indeed one source notes that it had a stoa as part of its structure (see below) and it is on one occasion called the ‘Troadesian Gate’, within what Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 307 ‘AD 451’ (edn. of Whitby and Whitby (1989)) calls the ‘Troadesian walls’. See C. Mango, “The Triumphal Way of Constantinople and the Golden Gate”, DOP 54 (2000) (173–88) 180 n. 50 for full references. However, the former hypothesis, that the Troadesian porticoes were porticoes leading in from the gate is the simplest, and so will be accepted here. The best argument against the second hypothesis is that, when Phocas entered the city to take the

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throne, his movement is described as follows: ‘From the Hebdomon he entered by way of the [Theodosian] Golden Gate, and the Troadesian Porticoes and the whole length of the Mese as far as the Palace’ (Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 345, ‘AD 602’ (edn. of Whitby and Whitby (1989))). If the Troadesian porticoes were really just a decorative detail on the Constantinian Golden Gate it would have been apt to mention the Constantinian gate here rather than the porticoes (see below appendix F7a). Overall, it is very likely that the porticoes were built by Constantine, giving his Golden Gate a ‘purple’ approach road. The violet colour of the Troadesian columns was clearly a significant aspect in their use. It would have made no sense to place such special columns on a street here after the construction of the outer wall under Theodosius II. Therefore I wish to associate these porticoes with Constantine and his gate, sometime between the inauguration of the city in 324 and its consecration in 330, although a date later in the 4th c. could be possible. In terms of subsequent building, we should envisage a phase of repair after the fire / earthquake sometime between 447 and 450, which was perhaps finished within 5 years, like Justinianic St. Sophia (constructed between 532 and 537), given its position on the main avenue. Dating summary (primary build): range 324–330, midpoint 327, class x (historical text), Cs3 (associative, phase of development), publication 3/3. Dating summary (repair): range 447–55, midpoint 451, class x (historical text), publication 3/3. 12CPL Constantinople (Portico of Domninos): One colonnaded street, which we can fix the location of, is the Portico of Domninos, of which I will give a bare summary here. The street existed within the area of the new city by AD 409: Marcell. com. AD 409 / Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 298 ‘AD 412’ (edn. of Whitby and Whitby (1989)). C. Mango has suggested that it is identical with the megas embolos built in the first year of Arcadius’ reign, opposite a praetorium, a suggestion I accept: Theophanes, AM 5887 (AD 394/95 date in Mango and Scott edn. (1997); Cedrenus (edn. of Bekker (1838–39) vol. 1 p. 574, both μέγαν ἔμβολον). Domninos might be PLRE 1.372 Domninus 1, an exprimiceriis sacrarum largitionum allowed to retain the rank of ex-vicar in a law given at Constantinople in AD 408 (Cod. Theod. 6.30.19). The location of this major north-south street can be set by suggesting that it is identical with an old street in the modern city (Uzunçarşı = long market), a very straight north-south axial street with which some Byzantine structures are aligned, and which seems to be the Turkish translation of Makros Embolos (long portico), one of the names for the road (see below). The association of the name Makros Embolos with both the megas

embolos and the Portico of Domninos is, however, more complicated. The association of names can be made by studying the street settings of two churches, that of St. Anastasia and that of the Forty Martyrs, both of which were located in this area. (i) Firstly, the church (of St. Anastasia) is known to have stood on the Portico of Domninos (Miracles of St. Artemios 23), but also on the ta Maurianou / Embolos tou Maurianou, a name known in texts of the 7th c. and after (e.g. Patria 3.43). This street was the route that one took after the Forum of Constantine going to Blachernae, in the north-west corner of the city: Cer. 1.27. Indeed, its full name is given as μακροῦ ἐμβόλου τοῦ Μαυριανοῦ by the Book of Ceremonies, thus removing any doubt. (ii) Secondly, the Church of the Forty Martyrs (‘C of 40 M’) is known to have replaced a praetorium on the Mese (Theophanes AM 6082, AD 589/90 date in Mango and Scott edn. (1997)). It seems likely that the praetorium concerned is the one that was built facing the megas embolos when it was built in 394/95: see appendices F3, F9 and 11, with C. Mango, Le développement urbain de Constantinople (IV–VII siècles) (Travaux et mémoires du Centre de recherche d’histoire et civilisation de Byzance. Monographies 2) (Paris, 2nd edn. 1990) 31. The identification of the ‘C of 40 M’ praetorium with that looking down the megas embolos can be made because the church is known to have been located by a Bronze Tetrapylon (Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 347 AD 602), where a cross was erected on a composite column by Heraclius (348 AD 612) (both edn. of Whitby and Whitby (1989)). This tetrapylon is known to have been set on the Mese between the Forums of Constantine and Theodosius; it must have stood where a major street (likely coming from the Neorion harbour) intersected with the Mese at a vault. This makes likely the identification of the C of 40M praetorium with the megas embolos praetorium. For a fulsome list of references to the ‘C of 40 M’ see R. Janin, La géographie ecclésiastique de l’empire byzantin, I: Le siège de Constantinople et le patriarcat oecuménique, tome III: Les églises et les monastères (Paris, 2nd edn. 1969) 483–86 (not seen) but I saw (Paris, 1st edn. 1953) 499–501 nos. 3 and 6. Janin separates two churches, that on the Mese with that by the Bronze Tetrapylon, which have here been argued to be identical. Because of the topography of the area (steep drop to the south), it seems that the Church of the Forty Martyrs was the southern end of the road, as it hit the east-west route of the Mese: no monumental avenue is known running to the south of it, only terraces and stairs. The northern end of the street is far more problematic to locate. Somewhere on the eastern side of the city, perhaps towards Blachernae, was the now lost ‘Gate of St. Anastasia’, mentioned as being in this part of the city in a chrysoboullon of John Palaeologus

APPENDIX 1: C2 New Colonnaded Streets, as Part of New Urban Quarters in 1342: author unknown, Νεολόγου Ἑβδομαδιαία Ἐπιθεώρησις January 3 (1893) 203 (not seen) by me but cited by A. van Millingen, Byzantine Constantinople: the Walls of the City and Adjoining Historical Sites (London 1899) 197 n. 2. Given that the Church of S. Anastasia was located on the Makros Embolos, one might have expected the street to have ended at a thus-named gate, which made reference to the bestknown church on this route. However, there is controversy over which physical gate in the sea wall the Anastasia gate represents. Van Millingen would have the Atik Mustafa Paşa Kapısı as the Gate of Anastasia, right up near Blachernae: van Millingen (1899) 197–98, because relics of St. Anastasia were seen at Blachernae by a Russian Pilgrim (Anonymous, Description of Constantinople (1424–53) from St. Petersburg library (B. de Khitrovo transl., Itinéraires Russes en Orient (Geneva 1889) (223–39) 232), suggesting that the toponym moved to Blachernae with the relics. Yet, for Schneider the Gate of Anastasia should be identical with the Zindan kapı, located not far (ca. 100 m) from where the line of the Uzunçarşı route reaches the city wall (see map of M. Kauffer of 1776: http://buyukvalidehan.yildiz.edu.tr/ images/maps/kauffer_1776.jpg, plus air photos from Google Earth / Maps). See A.M. Schneider, “Mauern und Tore am Goldenen Horn zu Konstantinopel”, Nachrichten der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Göttingen, philosophischhistorische Klasse 5 (1950) 86–87 n.53. Schneider sets aside van Millingen’s (p. 215) identification of the Zindan kapı gate as the Gate of St. John the Forerunner (a thusnamed church was located here). He points out that the church of St. Anastasia was still being repaired in the early 14th c., and that it was seen by a pilgrim from Novgorod in AD 1200 “dans le grande embolon des noirs” (which likely means the Μαυριανὸς ἔμβολος): Anthony of Novgorod, Description of the Holy Place of Constantinople (1200) in B. de Khitrovo transl., Itinéraires Russes en Orient (Geneva 1889) (85–111) 105. Thus, he thinks that the relics stayed in the church until this time, and that the ‘Gate of Anastasia’ of 1342 should be related to the Embolos tu Maurianu / Makros Embolos. Significantly, the Novgorod pilgrim of AD 1200 (pp. 104–105), seems to describe the ‘embolos’ as part of a sequence of porticoes coming from Blachernae to the Church of the Forty Martyrs, which he describes as being at the end of the Embolos of the Russians. It is beyond the scope of this work to locate the churches he mentions (such as St. Plato) precisely along this street. For a full discussion see A. Berger, Untersuchungen zu den Patria Konstantinupoleos (Ποικίλα Βυζαντινά 8) (Bonn 1988) 312–15, 442–44 (with discussion of Makros Embolos and ta Maurianu names). A. Berger, “Streets and public spaces in Constantinople”, DOP 54 (2000) (161–72) 116 discusses the alignment of monuments with the Uzunçarşı. Arguments based on the routes taken in the Book of Ceremonies are presented by R. Janin, “Etudes de topographie Byzantine:

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emboloi tou Domninou. Ta Maurianou”, EchOr 36 (1937) 129–56, esp. 135–37, summarised in R. Janin, Constantinople Byzantine (Paris, 2nd edn. 1964) 89–90, 344–45. The Miracles of St. Artemios feature the lives of shopkeepers working around the church of St. Anastasia, likely within shops on this street. Of phasing and dating we can accept the date given by Theophanes. However, we should also note a likely reconstruction of the street after a fire which Malalas 18.135 describes as extending from the Neorion harbour warehouses until the tetrapylon and the adjacent porticoes (this is AD 561/2 in the Jeffreys (1986) edn.). We should envisage a phase of repair after the fire sometime between which was perhaps finished within 5 years, like Justinianic St. Sophia (constructed between 532 and 537), given its position on the main avenue. Dating summary (building): range 394–95, midpoint 394.5, class x (historical text), publication 3/3. Dating summary (repair): range 561–66, midpoint 563.5, class x (historical text), publication 3/3. 12CPL Constantinople (St. Mamas suburb ‘new portico’): This portico, likely a full colonnaded street given its connection to an imperial palace, was built by the emperor Leo I (457– 74) out in the suburbs of St. Mamas (Beşiktaş), after the fire of AD 469, which led him to take up residence here: Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 312, ‘AD 469’ (edn. of Whitby and Whitby (1989)); Malalas 14.43. Dating summary: 469, class x (historical text), publication 3/3. 15ORI Sergiopolis (Resafa): The street leading from the north gate appears to be colonnaded, and may have been created earlier than, or at the same time as, the monumentalisation of the city in the early 6th c. (it does not in any way follow the same alignments as the streets in the new areas of the city): J. Kollwitz, “Die Grabungen in Resafa”, in Neue deutsche ausgrabungen in mittelmeergebhet und in vorderen orient, edd. AAVV (Berlin 1959) (45–70) 51–52, who notes columns and pier foundations in situ for a street 10.3 m wide with a western portico of 2.2 m, and a roadway width of 4.6 m of gypsum paving with broken stones, thus seeming to imply an eastern portico of 3.5 m, with a sewer noted underneath. The road was later covered by a medieval street 0.75 m above it. The report of G. Brands, Die Bauornamentik von Resafa—Sergiupolis: studien zur spätantiken Architektur und Bauausstattung in Syrien und Nordmesopotamien (Resafa 6) (Mainz 2002) 122–23 with fig. 15 is not very helpful, showing an area of the street where the porticoes seem to have been suppressed or never built. One can imagine that the south entrance led into a portico to its south, but not much more than that. Although the city seems to have been comprehensively rebuilt in the early 6th c., the settlement had an earlier history as a fort, then as a pilgrimage centre, for which see appendix B7.

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This street occurs in the less regular, and probably earlier part of the city, so may date before this time. Dating summary: Undated. See also (appendix B7): 05ITA Ravenna, Classe (porticoed street A) with porticoed buildings on one side and a colonnade on the other (526–50 with date from associated road surfaces). The maritime porticoes of the same buildings and their associated walkways of the same date are also impressive, and can be found through the works cited in the same entry, although they are not formally part of this study; 15ORI Sergiopolis (Resafa): A colonnaded street has been hypothesised, leading to the E gate, built as part of the early 6th c. monumental expansion of the city’s grid within the period in 475–518; 15ORI Zenobia: for 4 colonnaded streets probably dating from ca. 550, although recently excavated associative finds from an excavations on the north side of the city, where a new quarter was built as part of the Justinianic works, suggests occupation from the second half of 6th to 7th c. Discounted: 10MAC Gortyn: ‘Pythion’ / praetorium quarter, where a single street was established around the area of the old temenos, towards the end of the 4th c. This is classed as a new minor street and is discussed in appendix J1.

C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters

In this section, I include colonnaded streets where a major / total rebuilding of at least two street elements has taken place, such as portico and paving or sidewalk and paving, as well as those where it has been more comprehensive. 01BRI Cirencester (Corinium) (main north-west / southeast street, midway between forum and north gate, at Dyer Court / Police Station site): This road has been excavated in two places. A first excavation dug on the west side of Insula XVIII producing a profile section that revealed a large number of road surfaces and two stylobates: G. Webster, “Cirencester, Dyer Court excavation, 1957”, Transactions of the Bristol and Gloucestershire Archaeological Society 78 (1959) (44–85) pp. 51 and 53. One can locate the site by combining Webster (1959) 44 fig. 1 with N. Holbrook and J.P. Salvatore, “The street system”, in Cirencester Excavations V: Roman Town Defences, Public Buildings and Shops, ed. N. Holbrook (Cirencester 1998) (19–34) xiv fig. 1 (map), on which it is clearly site 12, from the shape of the plot, and is described on p. 26 Gazetteer no. A.3 (Site AR on the map). A second excavation of this road, immediately north of here, on the west side of insula XXIII, was undertaken by J.S. Wacher, “Cirencester 1962: third interim report”, AntJ 43 (1963) (15–26) 21, next to Insula 23, at the Police Station site, and is marked as site 13 on the map of Holbrook and Salvatore (1998) xiv fig. 1, and described on p. 26 Gazetteer no. A.2 (Site AS). This second site has been

further investigated by Holbrook and Salvatore (1998) 26, as part of their final report on Wacher’s excavations. Of dimensions, we have only partial figures for the road. The width of the porticoes cannot be known from Webster (1959), as their back walls have not been located. The roadway itself was ca. 27 ft wide (8.2 m), with ca. 4 ft (1.2 m) between its western edge and the stylobate of the western portico, measured off fig. 1. The width of the eastern portico as known to Wacher (1963) 20 fig. 3 and 21 fig. 4 (measuring off the latter) is 3.35 m from portico back wall to street side front of late stylobate. This shows that a gap of 1.3 m between the edge of the roadway and the eastern late stylobate also existed, that was created by a late ditch and a pit, both cut after the late stylobate was installed. I think it likely that this is no accident and that some sort of clear space at a lower level than the main camber of the road existed on both sides of the road from at least the construction of the late colonnade. Indeed Webster (1959) figs. 1, 5 and 6 shows this to have been the case from at least the 3rd c., on the western side of the road. Thus, originally, it is likely that the roadway was 8.2 m wide, flanked by a free walking space / sidewalk of 1.2 m on the west and 1.3 m on the east, with porticoes of which the eastern measured 3.35 m. The depth of the western portico is not known, although if we assume it was the same as the eastern portico, the total road width would have been 17.4 m. Of architectural features, Webster’s sections clearly show that the roadway surfaces are made from gravel not paving, on fig. 5. The last road surface was entirely of limestone [i.e. fragments] and was in places at least a foot thick [1 foot = 0.305 m], much thicker than the surfaces below: Webster (1959) p. 53. Ditches on each side of the road were maintained (re-cut) throughout the later period, until after the last road surface was laid (p. 53). No details are known of the colonnades of the porticoes. The inside west portico excavated by Wacher seems to have included some stone paving slabs, but he does not specify the floor surface of the east portico. The stretch of east portico excavated by Wacher seems to have had a layer of cobbles in the portico at the level of the period III portico stylobate, with abandonment silts lying above: Wacher (1963) 21 fig. 4 illustrating the portico layers. Of use, all the road surfaces are heavily worn and have wheel ruts: Webster (1959) p. 53. Of phasing and dating, Webster’s excavation revealed 24 road surfaces in ca. 2.9 m of depth, spanning ca. 350 years). The last two surfaces were deemed to be Late Roman, along with their associated porticoes: into the penultimate road surface was cut a stylobate for a portico on the east side; on the west side, a similar stylobate was located: G. Webster (1959) 51 and 53. The chronology of the

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters road surfaces is described as depending on pottery finds (p. 54 p. 64, if indeed they did locate finds for all road layers). Unfortunately, it is not easy to relate the gazetteer of pottery (e.g. on p. 76) to the road section (p. 50 fig. 5) and the sequence described (pp. 54–57). Thus, we do not have clear published TPQs from the road layer dating evidence. One suspects that the final two road levels on site have been ascribed an early and mid 4th c. date just because they are the last two on the site. However, only the creation of the porticoes can be confirmed as having a date within our period. Webster notes that one was clearly cut into the penultimate road surface. Dating evidence was recovered for the west portico, where the fill against the stylobate and the layer under the paving produced fragments of “black burnished cooking pots with obtuse-angled latticing” [currently ca. 220 to the late 4th c. on Potsherd.net]. Webster noted that this pottery “in other parts of the country does not appear before the end of the third century” (citing parallels from Chester and Lydney Park): Webster (1959) 57. Of phasing and dating, Wacher’s excavation report cited no evidence to contradict that from Webster’s trench. However, Holbrook and Salvatore (1998) 26 note that the east colonnade of the street (which eventually became covered in street wash and “metalling”) was not inserted until after the later 3rd c. They note that a coin of AD 260–90 “lay below the infilled foundation trench of the colonnade wall.” This detail was not available in the interim report of Wacher, as far as I can see, and probably comes from an archival source (not stated) known to Holbrook from his activities in Cirencester. This provides a TPQ for the penultimate phase, which does not contradict the dating established from Webster’s excavation. Of subsequent phasing, providing a TAQ for both road surfaces, Webster’s excavations documented the abandonment of the road can be seen in the accumulation of grey silt in the ditches on each side of the road, from which came unspecified late 4th c. coins and pottery, mixed with animal bones and a human skeleton that had been left out to rot in the open in the ditch (a conclusion based on the presence of snail shells and organic matter inside the skull) (p. 53): Webster (1959) with figs. 1, 5 and 6. These finds, and the absence of any-mid 4th c. finds suggest that the colonnaded street was abandoned before the end of 25 years after the beginning of the late 4th c. (so in 387.5–412.5). Overall, it seems that we have here a major improvement of the street which involved both porticoes and a substantial new road surface, so qualifying here as a new colonnaded street. If we take the ceramics from Webster’s trench together with the coin identified from the Wacher’s trench, then we have the basis of a tentative contextual date of 260–85 for the colonnading project. N.B the rebuilding of a west portico on the same street, which is dated based on contextual pottery finds to 300–25 in

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appendix C4, might possibly be part of the same project, although here we are dealing with the rebuilding of a portico, not a portico built for the first time, as at Dyer Court. It is not possible, on published evidence, to confirm that the penultimate street level is Late Roman, although this was very likely established from coins found within it. However, the final street level certainly dates between 260 and 412.5, on account of the stratigraphy which surrounds it. Dating summary (colonnaded street construction): range 260–85, midpoint 272.5, class Cs9 (contextual pottery), Cs8 (contextual coins), Cs7 (TPQ coin) publication 3/3. Dating summary (final road surface): range 260–412.5, midpoint 336.25, class Cs7 (TPQ ceramic), Cs9 (contextual ceramics) Cs8 (contextual coins), publication 2/3. 02HIS Carthago Nova (Cartagena) (“Roman street” museum, ‘Decumano’, Plaza De Los Tres Reyes): The street seems to have been rebuilt with new paving, colonnade and at least two ‘shops’ (based on their threshold blocks). It has been described in summary form by S.F. Ramallo Asensio and J. Vizcaíno Sánchez “Estructuras de almacenamiento en carthago nova y su territorium (ss. Iii a. C.—vii d. C.)”, edd. J. Arce and B. Goffaux, Horrea d’Hispanie et de la Méditerranée romaine (Collection de la Casa de Velázquez 125) (Madrid 2011) (225–61) 233–39 with figs. 6–10, of which fig. 7 is the site plan and fig. 10 is the general plan. I am grateful to S.F. Ramallo Asensio for sending me this article. Of architectural form, this is a paved street (running ENE-WSW) with a portico on one side only (SSE), built facing the bath, which has no portico. Of dimensions, the SSE portico is ca. 2.7 m deep, from the front of stylobate to back wall, hand-measuring off the plan, excavated over an area of ca. 21 m2. There are 6 columns of various dimensions with an intercolumnar distance not entirely regular (ca. 2.10 / 2.15 m), by which I mean the spacing between columns, not the interaxial difference. [I checked this on the plan]. The street paving measures ca. 4.2 m wide, hand-measuring off the general plan. Of architectural features, the colonnade is composed of 4 bases of limestone (caliza micrítica), two Attic bases of travertine and 6 column sections in both materials but of different sizes: Ramallo Asensio and Vizcaíno Sánchez (2011) 233. See also a description of Early Imperial materials reused in this portico (one Attic base and one Tuscan base with columns of different width) in M.J. Madrid Balanza, “El orden toscano en Carthago Nova”, Anales de Prehistoria y Arqueología 13–14 (1997–1998) 149–80, esp. 154 and 160. Of paving, the plan fig. 7, especially when contrasted with paving elsewhere on fig. 10 is highly irregular. It is composed of reused stone slabs of varied dimensions arranged together in short rows without angles ‘cut to fit’, which results in many gaps between the slabs, which are

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not closely fitted. The slabs vary in size from little irregular space fillers no more than ca. 0.1 m by 0.2 m to large rectangular slabs of 1.4 m long and up to 0.9 m wide., with most slabs being about half this size: hand-measuring off fig. 7. Of shops, we have two or three units, of which none has been totally excavated. They appear to be cellular, but in reality little more than one dividing wall survives, composed of reused materials. Two have threshold blocks lining the street, with slots for sliding panel doors. The façade of one of the shops measures 5.4 m: pp. 233–34 with p. 235 fig. 7. Of phasing and dating, this phase of renewal is believed to be part of the late restoration of the decumanus in this area. This change appears, from the stratigraphy associated with the adjacent baths, to date from the second half of the 4th or beginning of the 5th c., as revealed by pottery. I am grateful to J. Vazcaino Sanchez pers. comm. for this insight. The report on the baths reveals that in the second half of the 4th c. or first decades of the 5th c., the area was demolished, with evidence of abandonment and burning, as well as subsequent spoliation. These contexts produced local ceramics, ARS D, especially Hayes 59 [ca. 320–420 LRP] and 67 [ca. 360–470 in LRP], given here as dating between 350 and 450, with local references, plus African amphorae of similar chronology such as Keay 25 [= Africana 3 of 300–450 on RADR plus Bon with 3 subtypes] and Keay 27 [387.5–450 or 500 Bon] and a few eastern amphorae such as Keay 12 [= Neiderbieber 77 = Käpitan 2 = Ostia form 6 according to Keay p. 136; Käpitan 2 is 200–400 on RADR]: M.J. Madrid Balanza, M. Pavía Page and J.M. Noguera Celdrán, “Las termas del Puerto de Carthago Nova: un complejo augusteo de larga perduración”, in Actes del 2on Congrés Internacional d’Arqueologia i Món Antic. August i les províncies occidentals. 2000 aniversari de la mort d’August. Tarragona, 26–29 de novembre de 2014 edd. J. López Vilar (Tarragona 2015) vol. 2 (15–22) 20. Overall, I am tempted to defer to the dating given in the report, as it depends in part on local ceramic observations, taking 350–425 as my date range for the renewal of the decumanus here. However, the ceramics cited seem likely to come from levels before the renewal of the area, rather than from construction levels themselves, the destruction being separated by a period of spoliation from the subsequent rebuilding. I note that Keay 27 as the last ceramic, providing a TPQ of 387.5 for the subsequent building, from its start date. It is not clear what gives us a TAQ of 425. On balance, I adopt a range of 387.5–425, deferring to the excavators in terms of the TAQ but not their TPQ, which seems to be too early. Dating summary: range 387.5–425, midpoint 406.25, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3. 05ITA Milan (colonnaded street leading out from Porta Romana): The street has been traced for some 370 m from the gate of the city. It probably went all the way to

the supposed honorific arch, thus extending over some ca. 630–40 m (measuring from maps in D. Caporusso, “La zona di corso di Porta Romana in età romana e medioevale”, in Scavi MM3. Ricerche di archeologia urbana a Milano durante la costruzione della Linea 3 della Metropolitana 1982–1990. I: gli scavi. Testo, ed. D. Caporusso (Milan 1991) (237–61) 256, fig. 254). For earlier reports on the street, see D. Caporusso, “Corso di Porta Romana-Via Lamarmora” and D. Caporusso and A. Perin, “Ricostruzione grafica ipotetica della via porticata nel IV secolo D.C.”, Notiziario Soprintendenza Archeologica della Lombardia (1984) 94–96 and 96–98, with its somewhat speculative reconstruction image. Also see D. Caporusso, “Nuovi scavi archeologici in corso di Porta Romana a Milano”, BdA 72 (1987) 63–70 (not seen by me). Of dimensions, the street seems to have the following measurements: porticoes, from back wall to street side of stylobate, ca. 8.5 m on each side, with a roadway of ca. 9 m in width (measuring from the large area plans of de Capitani d’Arzago (1942), with detailed commentary on pp. 30–37). The portico walls are described in Capitani d’Arzago (1942) 9 as being each 6.5 m apart, separated by 9.2 m. But to this could be added a missing stylobate wall measurement, of an average of 1.9 m thick, giving revised measurements for each portico (from the back wall to the street side of the stylobate) of ca. 8.4 m, and to the roadway of 9.2 m, which would give an overall width of 26 m. One wall of 1.5 m thickness was found at Via Rugabella, suggesting to excavators a second storey there: D. Caprusso, “Lo scavo di via Rugabella”, in Scavi MM3. (1991) (311–30) 327. Of shops, none have not so far been detected behind the portico, although a medieval name for the area (ergasteria, the Greek equivalent of tabernae) suggests shops once existed here: A. De Capitano d’Arzago, La zona di Porta Romana dal Seveso all’Arco Romano (Milan 1942) 121–23. Of architectural features, the surface of the street seems to have been a pavement of pebbles, as noted below in the discussion of the honorific arch. There does not seem to be much dating evidence for the street, though its foundation walls included spolia (sarcophagus fragment, cornice, column, frieze): D. Caporusso “La zona di corso”, in Scavi MM3. (1991) 253. Of dating, the Via Rugabella excavation has some evidence from level 37/3 (a deposit connected to foundation of the walls of the colonnaded street) with ARS Hayes 59B, given as 4th–5th c., [though 320–420 in LRP] and a coin of AD 341–46, and one of AD 346–54: D. Caporusso, “Lo scavo di via Rugabella”, in Scavi MM3 (1991) (311–30) 322–27. The stazione Lamarmora excavation revealed a destruction layer under the late antique street, with finds of 2nd and 3rd c. AD date, such as terra sigillata of central Gallic manufacture [not checked as not precise enough]: Caporusso D., “La zona di corso” (1991) 250. The first deposit provides for

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters me a flimsy contextual date of the 25 years after 346, based on the two coins. An associative, phase of development date can be derived from the arch, which monumentally finishes off the street at one end: see appendix F7a on arches for a discussion of. It dates slightly later than the range I have given the street, because a layer associated with its foundations has produced a coin of Valentinian I, Valens and Gratian (AD 364–75) and a sherd of Hayes 91B (given as being from the middle ‘meta’ of the 4th c. to the 6th c. [375– 530: LRP plus Bonifay and Atlante citing ?pers. comm. from Hayes]). However, the contextual date from Via Rugabella is still to be preferred, and is not contradicted by the range provided by the finds from the arch layer. I derive this from the start date of last dated find in the foundation deposit 37/3, producing a range of AD 346–71. Dating summary: range 346–71, midpoint 358.5, class Cs8 (contextual coins), Cs7 (ceramic TPQ), (associative, phase of development), publication 3/3. 06ITS Rome (Porticus Petri): This structure ran between the Mausoleum of Hadrian / pons Aelius and St. Peter’s Church. The ‘portico’ probably stood on both sides of the road, as a conventional colonnaded street, given that it acted as a continuation of the Porticus Maximae on the other side of Tiber over the pons Aelius. Of location, its position is clear from a description of conflict in the Gothic War, when it provided shelter for those attacking the defenders of the Mausoleum of Hadrian: Procop. Goth. 1.22.12. Procopius states that the colonnade led from the Mausoleum here to the Church of St. Peter’s. It is also listed in a later description of the city: Ordo Romanus (12th c.) (L. von Urlichs ed. Codex Urbis Romae topographicus (Würzburg 1871) 79). Of architectural features, an arch / gate was decorated at its east end with an image of Christ (see below). The existence of such an arch makes it likely that there were two colonnades here (a common arrangement), not just one portico down a single side of the road, as at St. Paul outside the walls. For reports of columns, architraves and capitals found between the Pons Aelius and St. Peter’s Square see L. Spera, “Osservazioni sulle porticus dei complessi martiriali a Roma. Assetti architettonico-urbanistici e questioni cronologiche”, in ‘Marmoribus vestita’. Miscellanea in onore di Federico Guidobaldi (Rome 2011) (1039–70) 1315–36 with references that I did not have time to chase up. Of dating, the ‘portico’ was built sometime after the foundation of St. Peter’s Basilica by Constantine under Pope Silvester (312–35), but before the first siege of Rome in AD 537 during the Gothic War: Lib. Pont. 34.16–17 (pontificate of Silvester AD 314–35); Procop. Goth. 1.22.12. It is also listed in a later description of the city: Ordo Romanus (12th c.) (L. von Urlichs ed. Codex Urbis Romae topographicus (Würzburg 1871) 79). Liverani suspects that the portico was built by Pope Symmachus (pope from AD 498–514),

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partly because he decorated the Porta Sancti Petri at its east end, with an image of Christ, as noted by an inscription: P. Liverani, “St. Peter’s and the City of Rome between Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages”, in Old Saint Peter’s, Rome edd. R. McKitterick, J. Osborne, C.M. Richardson and J. Story (Cambridge 2013) (21–34) 31, citing ICUR NS 2.4107 (not seen) repeating H. Grisar, Analecta romana: dissertazioni, testi, monumenti dell’arte riguardanti principalmente la storia di Roma e dei papi nel medio evo (Rome 1899) 96–97 (for verse inscription on the gate, mentioning the image of Christ). On current arguments on the foundation date of St. Peter’s and the reliability of the Liber Pontificalis, see P. Liverani, “Old St. Peter’s and the emperor Constans? A debate with G.W. Bowersock”, JRA 28 (2015) 485–504. I thank P. Liverani for this reference which came at the end of my work. The article of Spera contains a full discussion of the testimonia for the porticus on p. 1315–20. Of subsequent repairs, works in AD 772–95 and 817–24 are mentioned in Lib. Pont. 98 under Pope Hadrian (AD 772–95). See also P. Adinolfi, La Portica di S. Pietro ossia Borgo nell étà di mezzo (Rome 1859) 1–18; B. Ward-Perkins, From Classical Antiquity to the Middle Ages: Public Building in Northern and Central Italy, A.D. 300–850 (Oxford 1984) 64. Dating summary: range 314–537, midpoint 425.5, class x (historical texts), publication 3/3. 06ITS Rome (Porticus Maximae): This porticus / colonnaded street was built before an arch (dedicated for Gratian, Valentinian II and Theodosius, so AD 379–83) which marked its end at the riverside (at the pons Petri / pons Aelius / Ponte Sant’Angelo). The fact that the porticus mentioned led to an arch, means it is likely that this was a colonnaded street built together with the arch as its ‘conclusion’. The porticus maximae seems to have led from this arch at the pons Aelius along a route (possibly following the Early Imperial via Tecta) which led to the Crypta Balbi area and perhaps the Forum olitorium. The arch inscription is CIL 6.1184 (quoting medieval testimonies for its text and its location at the pons Petri / pons Aelius / Ponte Sant’Angelo) = CIL 6.31254 = ILS 781 Imperatores Caesares ddd(omini) nnn(ostri) Gratianus Valentinianus / et Theodosius Pii Felices semper Auggg(usti) / arcum ad concludendum opus omne porticuum maximarum aeterni / nominis sui pecunia propria fieri ornariq(ue) iusserunt. Lanciani located other possible points for the street thanks to the toponyms of two churches, S. Ambrogio della Massima (50 m north of the porticus of Octavia) and S. Sebastiano, with the same suffix, which is apparently in the area of the Forum olitorium (though this church might have also taken its name from the Cloaca Maxima which ran through here): R. Lanciani, “I portici della regione IX”, Annali dell’Instituto di Corrispondenza Archeologica 55 (1883) (5–22) 22. The two locations of ponte S. Angelo and the Forum Olitorium,

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suggest a road, or revamping of a series of roads, which created a new processional way from the ‘Arch of Janus’ exit to the forum area and S. Pietro, as do the arches erected in AD 379–83 and AD 402 and 408, based on their building inscriptions (see appendix F7a). Quite what archaeological features can be connected to this road is an open question. S.B. Platner and T. Ashby, A Topographical Dictionary of Ancient Rome (London 1929) 419–31, and also H. Jordan, Topographie der Stadt Rom im Altertum. vol. 1.3 (by Ch. Hulsen) (Berlin 1906) 597 provide references to a number of possible remains. Parts of granite columns, which may belong to these porticoes, have been found in the central section of the hypothetical street, in the Via della Reginella, alongside numerous columns and architectural fragments between the Corso Vittorio Emanuele and the Via Sora and the Via del Pellegrino, ca. 750 m west of the Crypta Balbi. Other pieces have been found in the Via dei Cappellari and the Piazza del Pianto, south of the Crypta Balbi. Of the granite columns (from ‘Elba’ [so grey]), some have been observed in the foundations of S. Andrea della Valle church, off Corso Vittorio Emanuele II: Lanciani (1883) 15; Granite columns have also been found in private houses on via di Monserrato: Jordan (1906) 597. Columns and architectural fragments ca. 750 m to the west of the Crypta Balbi, between the Corso Vittorio Emanuele and the Vie Sora and del Pellegrino (E. Gatti, “Roma: Nuove scoperti di Antichità nella città e nel suburbio”, NSc 16 (1919) (38–49) 39–40 (Corinthian capital); E. Gatti, “Roma: Nuove scoperti nella città e nel suburbio”, NSc 20 (1923) (247–55) 247–48, including 16 columns, of which 11 were granite, of between 0.72 m and 1.15 m in diameter, thought to be part of a public building. For excavated road sections of the hypothetical street, we have a plan by R. Lanciani, Forma Urbis Romae (Milan 1893–1901) plate 21, which marks a street, with bases for a portico with three steps on its north side, as the “Porticus Maximiae?”, with the find-spots of various purple columns (marked as “columna porphyr”, looking about 4 m to 7 m high, though it is not certain they are drawn to scale) found in the later 19th c. (mainly 1880 or 1889 from the map). Unfortunately, the street section is not very long (uncovered for ca. 75 m) or very wide (ca. 6–7 m according to my rough measurements from the plan). Lanciani also hypothesised that a short section of portico of cipollino columns (3.45 m long and 0.41 m wide) found at no. 128 via de’ Capellari in 1880, with a portico floor of travertine and a stylobate of three marble stairs might relate to the same street. He thought this was a post-Constantinian street, perhaps due to no column bases being reported: Lanciani (1883) 21. Caution should be exercised in using the rest of Lanciani’s map, as some buildings, such as the Crypta Balbi, are now known to be in different places to when he did his research: M. Mulryan pers. comm.

The reduction of the entry on the Porticus Maximae in the LTUR to the basic literary and epigraphic sources indicates that more recent scholars do not share the certainty of Platner, Ashby and Hulsen, and are not prepared to associate the various remains above with the architectural reality of a porticus maximae. It is possible that the toponym was applied to an existing street, perhaps the via tecta (covered, thus colonnaded street) mentioned by authors of the 1st c. AD, connecting the Forum and via Flaminia to the Tarentum, in the far west of the Campus Martius, as Platner and Ashby (1929) 568 suggest. Any building work might have been limited to a part of the route adjacent to the arch, and not have extended along its full length. For the LTUR entry, largely limited to a commentary on the inscription itself, see F. Coarelli, “Porticus Maximae”, in LTUR 4.130. Dating summary (for the very hypothetical creation of the porticus maximae at the same time as the arch): range 379–83, midpoint 381, class x (inscription not in situ), publication 3/3. 07AFR Cirta Constantina: At the crossing of the Rue Caraman and Rue Combes, on the western side of the city, close to the Porte Valée, was a tetrapylon, which according to an inscription on the monument, was erected along with porticoes, and with a basilica Constantiana (for Constantius II) in 362/63, as new buildings, by Claudius Avitianus (vicar of Africa AD 362–63) (‘[con]stituend[am] | [a] solo perfi[ciendam]|q[ue] [c]u[ravit]’): ILAlg 2.624A–B = CIL 8.7037 = LBIRNA 724–25. PLRE 1.126–27 Claudius Avitianus 2; Lep. 385. The porticoes referred to are very likely to be street porticoes given the construction of a tetrapylon, and the Late Roman penchant for building the latter at the crossing of two great axial colonnaded avenues, on which see appendix F2, and the main text. Dating summary: range 362/63, midpoint 362.5, class x (although inscription was recorded in situ on the arch, the porticoes were not observed), publication 3/3. 07AFR Thibilis (Announa): Porticoes were built (‘a funda[men]tis’) along with an arch (‘porticus cum arcu’), according to a fragmentary dedication, involving curator Filippus and a dignitary of unknown office, Sucinus Novilianus, during the reign of Valens, Gratian and Valentinian II (AD 375–78): ILAlg 2.2 4677 = LBIRNA 771, Lep. 480. This block was found at the junction of the eastern street with the main street, and may be connected with the thin arch, which stands at the end of the eastern colonnaded street, which is suspected of being of the late empire: S. Gsell, Khamissa, Mdaourouch Announa, fasc. 3: Announa (Algiers-Paris 1918) 50 for details of the monument, though the reference is 53–55, with a photo on plate 3.1 and plan provided on plate 13.2. The sides of the arch and their mouldings do suggest that it was not isolated, and was perhaps connected to porticoes in the way described

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters in the inscription. However, nothing is known of the immediately surrounding structures, even though the street does have porticoes (with columns in an attic style of marble or in one case, sandstone) further up its 90 m length. For further details of the arch see appendix F7a. Dating summary: range 375–78, midpoint 376.5, class x (inscription not in situ), publication 3/3. 07AFR Thamugadi (Timgad): The praeses Aurelius Maximianus inaugurated a platea (square or colonnaded street) along with a bridge, paid for by an equestrian and augur. The conjunction with a bridge perhaps suggests that it was a street: M. Christofle, Rapport sur les travaux de fouilles … effectués par le service des monuments historiques de l’Algérie (Algers 1938) 427 = LBRINA 620. Lep. 446 notes that this inscription was not found in situ. The inscription is dated by the tenure of PLRE 1.572 Aurelius Maximianus 4, known to be in office sometime within the period 290–93. Dating summary: range 290–93, midpoint 291.5, class x (inscription, not in situ), publication 3/3. 08PAN Salona: The minor street east of the episcopal complex, leading to the cemetery, is effectively a colonnaded street. It was made out of stone paving set at the level of the Cruciform Church, and is described by W. Gerber, “Römische Profanbauten”, in Forschungen in Salona, vol. 1, ed. W. Gerber (Vienna 1917) (100–138) 103–106. There is a two-column porch projecting onto the road bearing the monogram of the 6th c. bishop Peter, which connects the street to the rooms on the north side of this church. The road section immediately south of this may have been vaulted for around 8 m south of here, as it is supported by piers that are part of the walls of the ‘basilica urbana’ phase of the episcopal complex, and thus early 5th c. They are also present in the ‘Roman’ walls a few metres further north, suggesting that there was an overhanging balcony on the west side of this street (we lack piers on the east side of the road to make a via tecta). Certainly, part of vault was found here (p. 106). The road further north of here is colonnaded on both sides, with what appears from the plans to be a series of non-matching column bases, which do not match the spacing of those on the other side of the road (p. 103, fig. 187). Each line is connected between the bases by low walls that look initially like ‘sidewalks’, although they are not covered by the colonnades but rather built at the same time as them. They are so narrow as to make passage impossible, as the column bases block the progress of pedestrians (p. 106, fig. 193). Thus, we can talk of this as being a colonnaded street without porticoes. Of dimensions, measurements taken from the plan show a street in the colonnaded area with two sidewalks of ca. 0.6 m separated by a roadway of ca. 3.4 m, with no other features, making it ca. 4.6 m from back wall to back wall. On p. 105 fig. 192 the road paving is drawn, showing a variety of large rectangular slabs, from 0.35 m by 0.5 m to

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ca. 1.15 m by 2.7 m, with some attempts to sort them into short rows composed of 4 or 5 slabs, with one example of cutting to fit in a jigsaw pattern, and the use of a small slab to plug a hole. The need to cut to fit, and the variety of sizes, suggests that reused stone was being used. Of architectural features, the colonnade measurements, where preserved (p. 106 figs. 194–95) are: columns 3.6 m, pedestal / base of 0.67 m, and capital of ca. 0.4 m based on the width of the column at the top (0.43 m) and comparison to the photo on p. 105 fig. 190. This gives a total colonnade height of ca. 4.67 m. The column base is of the Attic style integrated with the pedestal. The capitals are similar to a simplified Corinthian style and appear close to Romanesque capitals, with very simple volutes and irregular proportions (pp. 105–106 with fig. 190). However, the text is not completely clear (to my reading) if this capital type is found along the colonnaded street or is just found around the porch into the episcopal complex. Of dating, we must look to the overall architectural arrangement of this area (heights of road, relationship of colonnade to vault) which suggests that the street has been lifted, repaved and given colonnades at the same time, sometime after the construction of the ‘basilica urbana’ in the early 5th c. (dated to AD 404–26, on the basis of an inscription, see above appendix A1). The recovery of capitals from the north part of this site, where there are the street porticoes, completes the dating: one, which is of simplified Corinthian style (cut new in Late Antiquity), matches the width of the columns and bases found here. It bears a monogram of Bishop Peter (p. 105, fig. 190), who held office from AD 554–62. This suggests the street was colonnaded by Peter. Dating summary: range 554–62, midpoint 558, class Cs6 (absolute, inscription, of which the context can be reconstructed, although this is not in situ), publication 3/3. 09DAC Scupi: A late antique colonnaded street has been excavated in the centre of the city. This was installed above an existing colonnaded street at a level ca. 20 cm higher, as revealed by the height of the portico stylobate on two sides of the road and some related thresholds, all incorporating reused material. Of dimensions, L. Jovanova, Scupi: Colonia Flavia Scupinorum: Guide (Skopje 2008) 54 gives the roadway width as 8.3 m, with porticoes that are 2.6 m on the east and 3 m on the west, giving a total width of 14 m (13.9 m by totalling). It is not clear if this portico measurement is to the roadside face of the stylobate. My own rough measurements taken on site, combined with the plan from the guide, give a street that is ca. 14.4 m wide, with a western portico (from back wall to roadside front of stylobate) of ca. 3.2 m, a roadway of ca. 8 m, and an east portico of ca. 3.2 m, suggesting that this is broadly correct, though there are some variations, as in the western portico width, visible

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on site. It is important to note that the overall street width is determined by the earlier city street grid, burying as it does an earlier road paving in stone slabs, rather than being a late antique creation. Of architectural features, the paving of the road is of very large slabs with no sign of wear or reuse, which seem to belong with the fine bases visible under the higher stylobate mentioned. The absence of a higher paving suggests that it was paved in gravel or an equivalent surface in the road and portico, which has been removed by excavators. The porticoes are constructed of irregularly-spaced rectangular piers, of mortared un-worked stone, with a few better-cut blocks that look reused. It is theoretically possible that there were columns above, but there are no traces of architectural elements whatsoever. The colonnades do not match up with each other in their positions on the opposing sides of the street. There are no shops on the western side, only the walls of the bath building and former (Late Roman) horreum, within the excavated area. A single shop on the eastern side is of similar build to the piers and is probably part of the same project, being the only complete example excavated within what was likely a row. Its threshold is set at the higher level of the late street portico stylobate, and is made out of a reused architrave. It clearly shows the classic groove for planks to be slid along to form a barrier, and then the marks for a pivoting door to close the whole frontage, as seen in shop threshold blocks at Pompeii and Ostia. There is also mixed reused materials in the front wall of the shops, though not in the shop’s interior walls, suggesting that the façade wall of the shops was rebuilt along with the street: L. Lavan site observations June 2014. I was not able to obtain dimension measurements for the shop, or an idea of its floor materials. The porticoes were paved in cobble stones of river pebbles, with bricks set in a mortar floor interrupting this in some sections, usually in front of the entrances to buildings: Jovanova (2008) 54. Of phasing, it is significant that the building of the late street post-dates some monumental Late Roman building work on the site, such as the horreum on its west side. This latter structure is covered by a bath building which is set at a higher level, but provides the rear wall of the western portico and communicates with it via a stepped main entrance that drops to the higher / late portico pavement level. The western portico appears from plans and site observation to be structurally later than the baths (it stops at the end of the baths and a major height drop occurs close to a structural disjuncture within the baths). However, the door height suggests that the baths were planned together with the portico. Of dating, the late street porticoes and raised sidewalks are suggested by the excavator as being from the late 3rd or early 4th c. She does not state why this date is preferred,

although apparently there are later adaptations and interventions that can be dated as late as the 6th c., though finds are not specified to support this assertion: Jovanova (2008) 55. The best dating for the street perhaps comes from the city bath, which seems to be contemporary with the rebuilding of the street, or perhaps later, for the reasons set out above. Here Jovanova (2008) 46–47 reveals that the Late Roman Horreum under the baths was in use in the second half of the 3rd to early 4th c. AD, based on “building technique, moveable finds and, primary stratigraphy”. There was apparently a catastrophic earthquake that affects the whole site, dated to AD 518 (recorded by Marcell. com. AD 518 as affecting Dardania) [Gudioboni Catalogo no. 167] which seems to have been taken as a TAQ in the development of the city: see Jovanova (2008) 24, who provides no archaeological information to support this. Overall, I can accept a poor contextual date of the 25 years after the early 4th c. for the colonnaded street, although the non-publication of finds makes this hard to credit. This means modifying the dating offered by J., who places the baths built above the horreum later than the colonnaded street, whereas my observations suggest that the baths and colonnaded street were built together, after the horreum was destroyed. Dating summary: range 312.5–337.5, midpoint 325, class Cs8 (contextual ceramics), Cs5 (catch all masonry), Cs4 (reused material), Cs3 (associative, phase of development), publication 3/3. Poor. 10MAC Stobi (east-west colonnaded street leading to the Heraclea Gate / ‘Via Sacra’): The south colonnade of this street was extensively built, and then perhaps rebuilt, in Late Antiquity, with impost capitals (some with crosses) as well as Ionic capitals: E. Kitzinger, “A survey of the Early Christian town of Stobi”, DOP 3 (1946) (83–161) 114–15. The north portico could only have existed for a short distance, due to the space taken up by the Sigma plaza: L. Lavan site observations June 2014. Of architectural features, according to Kitzinger, at least some porticoes were arcaded with brick, judging from the remains of brick arches found in the excavations. The street and porticoes were paved with stone slabs. The northern portico only survives as a line of column bases, having been encroached, according to Kitzinger, though I did not see any evidence of it. The colonnade of the south portico has Ionic bases, of a good quality, likely reused. To my eyes, without a scale, the surviving column seems to be ca. 3.5 m high: L. Lavan site observations June 2014. Of dimensions, the roadway is 4.85 m wide and the porticoes (wrongly called “sidewalks”) are 2.85 m wide. See appendix C5 for site observations of evidence of a rebuild of the colonnade. It was not possible to make significant observations of the stone paving, bar a few slabs, which were not obviously reused.

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters Of phasing and dating, there are two indications. Firstly, the stylobate of the south-east colonnade was composed of reused material that included seats taken from the theatre, which occurs widely elsewhere in the city, such as in the sigma plaza opposite. This should date the colonnaded street later than the spoliation of the theatre. The date of this spoliation is controversial. Certainly the theatre was active for part of the 3rd to 4th c., because the orchestra seems to have been converted into an amphitheatre at this time. The new wall in the theatre employs some stone which looks reused, although no decorated architectural blocks are present. There are also a few bricks which were used randomly as fillers in the courses, presenting a very different masonry to the ashlar of the theatre itself: L. Lavan site observation June 2014. Some scholars would like to suggest that the spoliation of the theatre occurred during the 4th c., when some pilaster capitals were incorporated into the adjacent first episcopal church, of later 4th c. date (a freshly minted coin of 360–70s has been recovered under a floor). These capitals were similar if not identical to some found behind the scenae frons of the theatre, one of which included a possible gladiator carving. However, the use of seating only occurs as spolia in the second church (considered by me to date to 425–75, on two coins of 425–50 found under the floor, plus (in a supporting role to the coins) the style of its capitals, believed to be like the ‘Theodosian’ capitals of St. John Studios of ca. 450). Here, a lot of seats are used, and the church actually extends over part of the disused theatre, which the church did not do earlier: see appendix A1 plus E. Kitzinger, “A survey of the early Christian town of Stobi”, DOP 3 (1946) (83–161) 152–53. Thus, whatever spoliation took place for the first church it was not something that put any part of the cavea out of use, which the spoliation for the second church did. I would thus prefer to date the spoliation of the seats to the later 4th to mid 5th c., and not earlier. The south stylobate of the street can thus be given a tentative TPQ of the later 4th c. Secondly, another phasing indicator comes from the arrangement of the south-east colonnade with the adjacent episcopal church, marked by two red-coloured columns and an area of paving in the portico, but no other obvious modification. We can note that it likely dates to the same time as the second episcopal church of 425–50, as the entrance of this church complex into the same south colonnade is integrated within it, in its intercolumniation and paving design. There is no indication that the portico has been altered to fit the entrance secondarily: L. Lavan site observations June 2014. Dating summary: range 425–50, midpoint 437.5, class Cs5 (reused material), z (site development), Cs8 (contextual coins for second church), Cs1 (architectural and artistic style), publication 3/3.

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10MAC Thessalonica (Via Egnatia, at Arch of Galerius): Very little is known of this important east-west street, except for the relationship between the colonnades and the arch, which began life as a tetrapylon, although it was quickly converted into an arch, probably before it was completed. A bare-bones summary is presented here, largely following H. Torp, “L’entrée septentrionale du palais impérial de Thessalonique: l’arc de triomphe et le vestibulum d’après les fouilles d’Ejnar Dyggve en 1939”, AnTard 11 (2003) (239– 72) 246–48, 256–57, fig. 15, fig. 31, who provides details of an earlier bibliography and field observations. On phasing and dating, the streets are closely tied to the two phases of the Arch of Galerius, which are both likely to fall between his movement of his winter quarters to Thessalonica in 299 after his victory over the Persians in 298 and the end of his reign (so AD 299–311: see appendix F3). Colonnade foundations relating to the street were found lying against (and thus secondary to) the stone (phase 1) inner piers of the Arch of Galerius on the south-west side, and also against the ‘palace vestibule’ on the south-east side (which is conjoined to the phase 2 southern outer piers of the arch): Torp (2003) 246–48, 256–57, fig. 15, fig. 31, who provides details of an earlier bibliography and field observations. However, the organisation of the relief decoration on the western side of the arch (which was part of the first phase of the arch, as a tetrapylon), has a scar for a console and a space for other lateral elements above it, such as an architrave block, in line with the reconstructed line of the portico stylobate: Torp (2003) 248–49 (fig. 8, a section drawing of H. Johannes), 256; E. Mayer, Rom ist dort, wo der Kaiser ist: Untersuchungen zu den Staatsdenkmälern des dezentralisierten Reiches von Diocletian bis zu Theodosius II (Mainz 2002) 53–54. These remarks derive from K.-F. Kinch, L’arc de triomphe de Salonique (Paris 1890) 6 (not seen). Thus, the relief decoration of the original tetrapylon suggests that the street portico was envisaged in the arch’s primary construction. Indeed, the scale of late antique works in this area, and the fact that the streets seem to deviate here to incorporate the arch, suggests a comprehensive redevelopment at the time of the arch (with two sub-phases of construction). This allows us to discount the suggestion of Speiser, who hypothesises that no more than a short stretch of the street porticoes were built at this time: J.M. Spieser, Théssalonique et ses monuments du IVe au VIe siècle (Paris 1984) 100–101. Using the section of H. Johannes produced in 1939 (Torp (2003) 24, fig. 8), rather, I accept the street as dating from the time of the arch, in 299–311. Of dimensions, we can calculate a street 30 m wide measuring from the rear walls of the porticoes, with a north portico of 7 m, a potential sidewalk beyond it of 3.5 m, then road space of 7.3 m, then a southern sidewalk of 4 m, then a south portico of 8.2 m. The sidewalks are calculated by

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filling the space between the edge of the portico and the projecting kerbs of the tetrapylon piers. They may never have existed though, so giving a road space of some 14.8 m. Nothing is known about the surface of the road. Of architectural features, the lowest scar on the tetrapylon side, likely for a console block, is 3.7 m above the portico paving, where the stylobate is likely to have rested, whilst the critical top surface of the ‘console’ is 4.2 m above the paving. This likely equates with the top of the capital which would have touched the architrave or arcading which the console supported. This suggests a colonnade height of 4.2 m, and within this (a very rough guess) is a column of ca. 3.5 m, with a (Corinthian?) capital of perhaps 0.5 m and a base of 0.2 m. I do not think it is necessary to assert that there was an architrave rather than arcading above the console from the scar, especially when one observes the pattern of marks on the south-west face of the pier. I myself would prefer arcading above the console, supporting above this an entablature with a cornice set at the same level as the impost course of the arch itself. We have no detail of the nature of the material from which the colonnade was made, or its order. Dating summary: range 299–311, midpoint 305, class x (historical text), Cs3 (associative, phase of development), x (historical texts), publication 3/3. 10MAC Athens (street on north side of the Library of Hadrian, leading east from the Athenian Agora): A new street was established here, covering over a basilica of Hadrianic date. Two parallel walls, 5.7 m apart, were found over these layers, composed of lime-mortared rubble of reused architectural elements. These are thought to represent the rear wall of a portico (width of 0.8 m) and its colonnade stylobate (width of 1.55 m) on the south side of a street. Of phasing and dating, we have a number of indices: (i) The robbing layers over the basilica produced “pottery, of which the latest could be dated in the middle years of the 5th century after Christ”. For all these details see T.L. Shear Jr., “The Athenian agora: excavations of 1970”, Hesperia 40 (1971) (241–79) 264–65 with plate 46 (plan) and 52a (photo showing extent of excavation). A. Frantz, The Athenian Agora, xxiv: Late Antiquity A.D. 267–700 (Princeton 1988) 15 and 79, where she describes the pottery as dating from the middle or third quarter of the 5th c., without giving further details of the ceramics. (ii) Frantz notes that this street aligns with the Propylon of the Library of Hadrian, which may have been restored earlier in the 5th c., based on an inscription from the latter structure: see appendix F7b below. (iii) The date of the street can also be suggested from its relationship to developments in the agora. Here, the western end of this street projected into the agora, creating an odd sheltered space to the south-west; here, a series of water mills were established (appendix V5b, of which the central mill is contextually dated to 457–82, based on coins, the

last one being of Leo 457–74). It is likely that these mills were established shortly after or at the same time as the new street was created: i.e. there was major reduction in the size of the agora in the 3rd quarter of the 5th c., which henceforth effectively became a way-station. The new street created a new east-west axis that continued the direction of the Panathenaic Way, competing with its traditional turn south-west at this corner, making the old route look less important. One might well see the development of this new street as a shift in the processional topography of the city, away from a focus on the Acropolis, to which Panathenaic processions once led. Overall, the ceramics from (i) provide the strongest dating evidence, supported by the other indications. Thus, I will give the date for the construction of this street as the third quarter of the 5th c., accepting the pottery in the robbing layers over the basilica as providing a contextual date. Dating summary (for creation of street and reduction of agora size): range 450–75, midpoint 462.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs6 (absolute, inscription in situ), Cs3 (associative, phase of development), Cs8 (contextual coins), publication 2/3. 10MAC Athens (The Panathenaic Way, in the former Pompeion area): Two facing porticoes were built, without shops, using mainly architectural fragments, in association with a triple gate (see below). For excavation reports, see W. Hoepfner, Das Pompeion und seine Nachfolgerbauten (Kerameikos 10) (Berlin 1976) 176–91 and also U. Knigge, R.H. Stichel, and K. von Woyski, “Kerameikos, Tätigkeitsbericht 1975/76”, AA (1978) (44–67) 49, n. 6. These are summarised by A. Frantz, The Athenian Agora, xxiv: Late Antiquity A.D. 267–700 (Princeton 1988) 26–28, and more recently N. Burkhardt, “Zwischen Erhaltung und Gestaltung—Das Straßenbild Athens in der Spätantike”, in Die antike Stadt im Umbruch. Kolloquium in Darmstadt, 19. bis 20. Mai 2006, edd. N. Burkhardt and R.H.W. Stichel (Wiesbaden 2010) 125–42, with map on table 25, fig. 40. Of dimensions, measurements for the street can be obtained from Hoepfner (1976) 177 fig. 190, the width of the roadway is 17.2 m (annotated on the plan), with a north portico of 6.55 m and a south portico of ca. 6.55 m (handmeasuring from back wall to street side of stylobate), giving an overall width of 30.3 m. Significantly, the street is shown as having no shops or other rooms off the porticoes, meaning that it was created purely for pedestrians, and perhaps for those waiting for an adventus from Piraeus, as this space is just before the city gate. Of architectural details, the form of the colonnades can be speculatively reconstructed with reference to some disturbed architectural fragments found in the area of the street, described by Hoepfner (1976) 179–84, with figs. 193–203. These include Attic column bases in white and Pentelic marble, broken columns in Hymettic marble, Ionic

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters capitals in white marble (which seem to fit the upper rim diameters of the smaller set of columns found here), impost blocks in white marble, and an archivolt facing block (perhaps for brick arches behind) setting an arch with an inside diameter of 2.65 m (p. 183). Although my photocopy did not allow me to read the individual heights of these elements, the measured widths of 17.4 cm for one of the bases (given on p. 179 fig. 192), 18 cm for the capital (measured off p. 181 fig. 194), and 12 cm for the impost (hand-measured by me off p. 182 fig. 196, whose given measurement I could not read). Hoepfner estimates the total for the base, reconstructed column and capital at 3.8 m (p. 182), which would give a colonnade measurement of 332.6 cm, without telling us where he got this figure from. The small set of columns found around here, which he wishes to associate with the colonnaded street portico, have mid and lower shaft diameters of ca. 40 cm: pp. 183–84 figs. 197–98. Using the very mechanistic calculations from a modern idealisation of the orders, would give us a column height for an Ionic order example 7 times this diameter, which would give columns of ca. 2.8 m high: https://mrouchell.files. wordpress.com/2013/03/classical-orders1.jpg (last accessed April 2015). However, neither of these measurements looks right on the reconstruction colonnade elevation on p. 185 fig. 199, if we use his arcade measurement of 2.65 m internal diameter derived from the archivolt block. The reconstructed columns look closer to 5 m in height on this drawing. Indeed, it becomes clear from checking the measurements on p. 196 fig. 201 that the archivolt block is about twice the size that it is depicted on the reconstructed elevation: therefore it does not fit above this colonnade. Thus, I prefer to disregard the archivolt block (of which only one was found) and use my own figure of 3.274 m (= 0.174 m + 2.80 m + 0.18 m + 0.12 m) for the total height of the colonnade, from base to impost, using a column height of 2.8 m. I could not find any record of a paved surface for the road, which seems to have been of pottery-rich foundation layers, as described below, unless the paving was robbed. Of dating, the chronology of the street has become more precise over time. According to Frantz drawing on Hoepfner, there is no direct dating for it, except for a gap in intensive lamp production in this area (in the second half of the 4th c.) which seems likely to coincide with the replanning of the area with a colonnaded street, which was destroyed before the early 5th c., when lamp producers moved back in, marked by dumping layers containing sherds. Frantz noted a second phase, in which the porticoes were rebuilt, almost from the ground, with a new floor ca. 30 cm higher. Frantz wanted to date the first phase to before the supposed destruction by Alaric in AD 395, as the site was covered in evidence of large-scale lamp production, apparently dating from immediately after this time: Frantz (1988) 26–28. A more recent critique dismisses the

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phase 2 rebuild (as having inconsistent heights and no back wall) and provides improved dating, which is what I will follow here: A. Rügler, “Die Datierung der ‘Hallenstraße’ und des ‘Festtores’ im Kerameikos und Alarichs Besetzung Athens”, AM 105 (1990) (279–94) 284–85. Rügler notes that ARS stamped ware of Type A II was found in the potteryrich foundation layer of the road, given by him as dated by Hayes to the late 4th c. [actually ca. 350–420 in LRP p. 219]; the latest coin is one of Gratian (AD 367–83). More significantly, he revises the dating of lamps from the layer to the beginning of the 5th c., based on parallels with material now available from Isthmia, which is early 5th c. in date [not checked by me]. He thus assigns a date of the early 5th c. to the construction phase of the complex, as these lamps were the latest dated items from a layer with abundant finds. See also below for the arch, which is a late 4th or early 5th c. construction, and seems from the plan to antedate or be contemporary with this development (as the colonnades stop here). Given that this is a pottery production site for lamps, I suspend the usual rule that construction of the road should date in the 25 years after the last ceramics in its fill layer, and support an early 5th c. contextual date, deferring to Rügler’s redating of the lamps. See the repairs and new building of individual porticoes elsewhere on this route, listed in the appendices on porticoes. Dating summary: range 400–412.5, midpoint 406.25, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3. 11THR Thracian Philippopolis: A colonnaded street has been uncovered coming in from the north-east gate, set on a different alignment to the rest of the city’s street grid. See the report of L. Botušarova and E. Kesjakova, Sur la topographie de la ville de Philippopolis à l’époque de la basse antiquité (Pulpudeva 4) (Sofia 1983) 264–73, plan on 267, fig. 3 (site map) and fig. 4 (photograph of road paving by the gate), with I. Topalilov, “Philippopolis. The city from the 1st to the beginning of the 7th c.”, in Roman Cities in Bulgaria, vol. 1, ed. R. Ivanov, (Sofia 2012) (363–437) page proof pages 13, 53–55, which represents the commentary which I follow here. Of dimensions, the street had a width of ca. 25 m (measuring off the plan), from the portico rear wall. Porticoes measured ca. 5.9 m each, and sidewalks on both sides of the road (in front of the porticoes) each measuring 2.7 m. The roadway width was of 7.8 m. This is so far not only the widest street in the city, but also in the province, known to date. Of architectural features, the paving of the road was in limestone slabs, possibly reused (as far as can be seen from the plan and photos, see below) as they are of different sizes and not set in rows, though an attempt has been made to fit them closely with some re-cutting. One section, towards the south-west, appears on the plan to be of poorly fitting reused but not re-cut slabs, and may represent a

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repair [although this appeared far more homogenous on site, see below]. The portico colonnade, which fronted cellular shops on both sides, was two storey of a ‘RomanCorinthian’ order. The portico surface is not recorded but was likely not paved, as here paving survival is good. A central drain is visible in the roadway on plans, and two rows of rectangular slabs on the borders of the road suggest sewers. To my eyes, the road slabs look reused on both the photo and the plan, not only because of their irregular shapes but because of the preponderance of large well-cut slabs of various shapes alongside small ‘filler’ slabs. Such heterogeneity does not suggest a normal stone supply in which a range of quarry-cut slabs have been ordered and then sorted to fit. It looks rather that an effort of adaptation has been made, to fit together material designed for other purposes. One of the shops on the north side is absent, where a minor street joins it. Here the use of reused material is much more prominent, if I interpret the ill-fitting slabs shown on the plan correctly. Of shops, there is a row of 9 one-room cellular units (one missing a wall) flanking the north side and a row of 7 one-room units flanking the south side, of which only one door is preserved on the south side and two on the north. All the rooms are around the same size (I measured ca. 4.6 m width by 5.7 m horizontal depth, off the small scale plan, for one representative shop on the south side) and are approximately rectangular, except where they reach the new city wall and so form a trapezoid. It is not obvious what their floors were made of from my site visit. Of phasing and dating, in the absence of published stratigraphic excavation below the road, we must consider the relationship of the monumental street to the city wall. The street appears to be contemporary with the extension of the city wall ‘in the 4th c.’: the southern shops are bonded to the new fortification wall on the plan and the street has not been found beyond the line of the new wall despite the unusual angle at which it cuts across the road. This phase of the city wall has been dated to the time of Constantine and Licinius, on not much evidence, other than: (i) It is part of the second phase of building to the walls of Marcus Aurelius (in opus mixtum with a 4-row brick layer); (ii) The extension absorbs within its fabric, as a portal, an honorific arch of the time of Hadrian; (iii) In the southern section of this 4th c. fortification, away from this gate, it is juxtaposed with a 4th c. cemetery, built over demolished houses and streets. The last spatial relationship suggests that the wall dates in or before the 4th c., as the cemetery should have developed afterwards. This phase of fortification is certainly very unlikely to be after the later 5th c., after which time new ‘Justinianic’ fortifications are established on a different line. The presence of reused material is also a basis to date the street to after the middle of the 3rd c., under the rules of this study.

Some scholars have suggested that the street was constructed in the 4th c. (the time of Constantine). This theory depends upon a number of structural relationships, the most significant of which is the fact that this street does not follow the earlier grid pattern of the city, and so marks a radical departure in urban design, for a special purpose. It has therefore been suggested that the road was intended as a grand entrance from the original road coming from Constantinople, and so dates after the foundation of the latter city by Constantine in AD 324. It has also been suggested that it was built to link the episcopal complex inside the city with the site of a Christian martyrdom at the Gate of Hadrian located here. See Topalilov (2012) proof page 53 for these theories. I will use neither argument here. Overall, I should take the presence of possible reused building material as providing a TPQ of the middle of the 3rd c. and take 375 as a TAQ, allowing at least 25 years for the 4th c. cemeteries to develop after the related phase of the fortifications, before the end of the 4th c. However, stratigraphic evidence below suggests a new date. Of use, there is an odd narrow set of wheel ruts, ca. 40 cm apart, along the centre of road, one each side of central line of slabs where drain runs through. There are almost no other wheel ruts on the road. This creates the impression as if they have run hand-carts along the centre of the street, although there may be some other reason for it. The east sidewalk kerb has widely-spaced holes in it containing lead, as if there was an iron fence or something along it— tethering points? It is strange to find this feature along the sidewalk kerb and not along the portico stylobate. STOP PRESS: I was able to visit this site in April 2017, guided by Ivo Topalilov, whom I thank, and as a result I have revised my thinking on its dating. Whilst the observations about the heterogeneous sizes of the road paving slabs hold good, there is almost nothing in the morphology, stone type or differential wear of the stones which suggests reuse. Reuse is almost entirely invisible in the whole of the street. The sidewalks are of well-cut closely fitting large rectangular slabs laid perpendicular to the street, with a beautiful kerb of the same material. Only the west colonnade stylobate has two blocks with an earlier set of clamp marks which might suggest reuse, and this is very well-hidden. Sondages from shops etc. have apparently established a 4th c. date (according to I. Topalilov pers. comm. 2017, the reports of which I have not seen) but come from the northern half of the area where there are small-sized paving slabs and where the stones seem to be slightly different colours (when I enhance the colour contrast on my photos) although the stone is the same. In contrast to the neat construction of this street, an adjacent late antique paving coming to the street from the side contains a lot of reused material. This site visit has left me feeling that we might be dealing with a colonnaded street of a single phase, which

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters might be 2nd or early 3rd c. in its primary construction, with only some very slight and well-executed 4th c. repairs possible. However, since the visit, Ivo has sent me a recently published resumé of coin finds from the site which he has examined as part of preparing a monograph on the street with Zdravko Dimitrov and Elena Kesyakova: I. Topalilov, “The impact of the religious policy of Theodosius the Great on the urbanization of Philippopolis, Thrace. Preliminary notes”, in Acta XVI Congressvs Internationalis Archaeologiae Christianae Romae (22–28.9.2013) Costantino e i Costantinidi. L’innovazione costantiniana, le sue radici e i suoi sviluppi vol. 2 edd. O. Brandt and G. Castiglia (Vatican City 2016) (1853–62) 1855. In this, after reasserting the unified character of the colonnaded street complex, he notes that in the debris of the part of the demolished curtain wall which underlay the street, coins of Constantius II (337– 361), Julian (361–363), and Valens (364–378) were found. He also notes that under the pavement of the street and the portico many coins were found, with the most recent being of Constantius II (337–361). Finally, he notes that “in the trenches made when the walls of the stores were built” [which should imply foundation trenches] was found a coin of Honorius (395–408). He also notes a burnt layer found outside but [not] inside the walls of the city which he believes might relate to the Gothic invasions of the 370s because “Among the burnt structures pieces of pink mortar were also found, which might point to a date in the second half of 3rd–4th c., since this kind of mortar differs from that used in 5th c., while its use before the middle of 3rd c. is not securely attested.” I will not credit this last dating argument as it is far weaker than that derived from the coins. Overall, we should accept the testimony of the coins recovered from under the paving but improve the date that Ivo derives from his coins, of the reign of Valens (364–78), because under the rules of this study the quantity of coins would support a strong contextual date for the road paving of the 25 year period after the start date of the last finds, which is 364–89. Given that the coin of Honorius provides a TPQ of 395 for the construction of the shops we can envisage a construction period for the whole ensemble that extended as late as 395 and perhaps beyond. However, it should not be allowed to overwhelm the construction date for the paving of street and portico which is best given as 364–89, based on very strong evidence. This line of reasoning also fits with the TAQ provided by the 4th c. cemetery outside the walls, although we can accept the new TAQ of 389 because it depends on the stronger contextual evidence coming from the coins. Although I remain astonished that such a fine colonnaded street with only very subtle evidence of reuse could date from the 4th c., I must confess myself convinced by the present state of the evidence as Ivo has presented it. It also fits with the quality

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of work on the portico at Abritus in appendix C4, dated to 337–400 based on contextual coins and associated finds, with a very low level of reused materials. Thus, I will adopt a date for the primary construction of the street as being 364–89, whilst retaining a slight note of scepticism until all arguments (mortar, height levels etc.) regarding the phasing of the street are published, along with the location of all the trenches and their finds. Certainly, the site visit I undertook did not confirm to me a secondary phase of construction and repair, as I saw on the plans, but rather a unified monumental development with some variation between work gangs. Dating summary (colonnaded street construction): range 364–89, midpoint 376.5, class Cs8 (contextual coins), Cs3 (associative, phases of development), publication 3/3. 12CPL Constantinople (Upper Mese between Forum of Constantine and Forum of Theodosius, secondary phase): Of phasing, we can note that the outer piers of the Arch of the Forum of Theodosius were demolished and covered with new portico walls for the forum. These are connected to the beginning of what looks like a new portico for the north side of the Mese, east of the square. Given that the outer pier of the adjacent arch was removed as part of this phase, this looks like a unified rebuilding of both porticoes of the street with the arch: R. Naumann, “Neue Beobachtungen am Theodosiusbogen und Forum Tauri in Istanbul”, IstMitt 26 (1976) (117–41) p. 130 with figs. 2 and 5, in which a 1943 excavation plan with section by E. Mamboury, taken from the German Archaeological Institute archives, is shown and discussed. Of dimensions, the ‘north Mese portico’ of this second phase was drawn on M.’s map as 7.5 m wide from the back wall to the street side of the stylobate, and implies a road width, excluding the porticoes, of ca. 16 m. A pier drawn on the ‘stylobate’ perhaps supported arcading; however, a staircase on one side of it (which we do not know the phasing of) may indicate something different. More troubling is a massive wall, ca. 3.2 m wide (3.4 m to Bardill (2004) 130), apparently of the same type of masonry as the portico, from Mamboury’s plan built on the south side of the road, which entirely overwhelms in height the inner and principal south pier of the arch, rather than joining up with it. But this is not aligned with the arch or the Mese sewers, and thus seems likely to relate to a different phase and monumental conception of the area. Bardill (2004) 130 describes this wall as being of mortared rubble with facing courses of limestone blocks, 6 courses (1.06 m) high, punctuated by bands of brick 5 courses (0.53 m) high, stating that it is not Justinianic, suggesting instead that it is 8th to 10th c., before the introduction of recessed brickwork. Of dating, Mamboury believed the second phase to be work of the third quarter of the 6th c. as written by him on an archive plan of the 1943 excavation. Mamboury

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probably proposed this date because the construction style of mortared rubble, which, in the sections of these walls observed by Naumann in 1969/73, was of mortared rubble interspersed with 5 layers of bricks: Naumann (1976) 125. Of alternative dating theories, Bauer would like to date this second phase to after the AD 599/600, based on an earthquake of that year, which overturned the western great gate of the Forum of Theodosius: F.A. Bauer, Stadt, Platz und Denkmal in der Spätantike. Untersuchungen zur Ausstattung des Öffentlichen Raums in den Spätantiken Städten Rom, Konstantinopel und Ephesos (Mainz 1996) 190–91 citing Anonymous Chronicle on Constantine 33 (90r), where the edition of Guidi ‘δυτικῆς μεγάλης ἁψῖδος τοῦ σταυροῦ’ is read as ‘δυτικῆς μεγάλης ἁψῖδος τοῦ ταυροῦ’, though this is not a manuscript variant noted by Guidi (1907) 660 = M. Guidi. ed., “Un bios di Costantino”, in Rendiconti della R. Accademia dei Lincei. Classe di scienze morali, storiche e filologiche, (5th series) 16 (1907) 304–40, 637–62; S. Lieu transl., “Constantine Byzantinus: the anonymous Life of Constantine (BHG 364),” in From Constantine to Julian: Pagan and Byzantine Views, A Source History, edd. S.N.C. Lieu and D. Montserrat (London 1996) 97–146. Given that the extant gate now seems to be the eastern gate of the forum, due to encumbering substructures east of it, this reference cannot be taken as referring to the gate we have: A. Berger, “Tauros e Sigma. Due piazze di Constantinopoli”, in Bisanzio e l’Occidente: arte, archeologia, storia. Studi in onore di Fernanda de’ Maffei (Rome 1996) (17–31) 18–19. An alternative earthquake, which affected the Forum Tauri, dislodging an equestrian statue of Arcadius (LSA-2723 / Stichel no. 57.4, from near or above an arch), occurred in AD 557 (Theophanes AM 6050, AD 557/58 (date in edn. Mango and Scott (1997)); Patria 2.47), whilst the earthquake described by Marcell. com. AD 479–80 (480.1) is said to have collapsed two arches of the forum. All these dating hypotheses should be regarded with caution, however, because we cannot know what restoration work was done after an earthquake in physical terms. For these Constantinopolitan earthquakes see Guidoboni Catalogo: no. 162 for 480, with some controversy over the year in the period 477–87 but not the time within the month of September; no. 193 for 14/23 December AD 557 (one of three for that year); there is no Guidoboni entry for AD 599/600. Of stronger dating theories, we have the attestation of damage to the forum area or adjacent porticoes suggested by the reuse of a distinctive tree-trunk column (which has a grasping hand like those of the arch of the Theodosian Forum) in the Basilica Cistern: L. Lavan site observation 1996 and 2013. This cistern was built in the reign of Justinian after the riots of Jan AD 532, which had also damaged the Mese (at least as far as the Forum of Constantine, although rebuilding might have stretched further): Procop. Aed. 1.11.12; Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 327 (AD 531 in edn. of

Whitby and Whitby (1989), although clearly January 532 from Theophanes AM 6024 AD 531/32 edn. of Mango and Scott (1997)); Procop. Vand. 1.24.9; Lydus de mag. 3.70. The presence of a Medusa head in the Basilica Cistern alongside the tree trunk columns is noteworthy. It suggests that there is a coherent spolia context here, representing one ‘spoliation event’ (perhaps of AD 532), containing material from damaged buildings in the area between the fora of Theodosius and Constantine. This is because another Medusa head was found reused near the Forum of Constantine (J. Bardill, Brickstamps of Constantinople, vol. 1: Text (Oxford 2004) 35; C. Mango, Le développement urbain de Constantinople: IVe–VIIe siècles (Paris 1990) 69 (Addenda no. 1), and these were seen as a feature of the ‘Palace of Constantine’ in the Forum Tauri by Parastaseis 42a). The tree trunk columns could have come from part of a connected street or plaza portico around or on the forum, as the cistern columns seem to be 7 m high and about 1 m wide (using the very rough scale of a passing person who I think was around 1.8 m), whereas those from the arch are reconstructed by Naumann as around 11.5 m in height and 1.7 m wide: Naumann (1976) esp. 128 fig. 6. The differences in surface treatment between the columns are also noteworthy, with the column in the cistern having ‘eyeballs’ rather than simple tree trunk markings. But these features seem to be only details of the level of finishing, with that in the cistern being much more finely cut than those in the arch, which could have had both smoother mouldings around the eye and an eyeball if anyone had wanted it: L. Lavan site observation 1996; C. Barsanti “Il foro di Teodosio a Constantinopoli”, in Arte profana e arte sacra, edd. A. Iacobini and E. Zanini (Rome 1995) (9–50) 20 with figs. 22 and 26–29. Thus, the columns in the Basilica Cistern might well have come from a street portico, being rebuilt after damage, from either the primary phase of the Upper Mese, or that bit of the street around the area affected by the insertion of the arch of the Forum of Theodosius. Whatever the truth, their presence in the Basilica Cistern with the Medusa head does suggest that large-scale rebuilding was necessary on the Upper Mese around AD 532. I take this building to have occurred within 5 years of 532, given the speed at which the Basilica Cistern was likely constructed and given the completion of the new Hagia Sophia by 537. Dating summary: range 532–37, midpoint 534.5, class Cs4 (reused material presence), Cs5 (catch-all masonry), x (historical), publication 3/3. 12CPL Constantinople (Upper Mese): Major repairs (of at least woodwork, roofing and painting) must have occurred after the following fires, listed in A.M. Schneider, “Brände in Konstantinopel”, ByzZ (1941) 392–403. (1) AD 509: Both porticoes of the Mese destroyed from the Forum of Constantine to the statue of Perdix, near the

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters church of St. Julian: Marcell. com. AD 509. This could be the Lower Mese, but given that the location of the church of St. Julian and the statue of Perdix are both unknown, the Upper Mese, away from the monumental centre, is perhaps more likely. Dating summary: 509, class x (historical text), publication 3/3. (2) AD 561: Theophanes AM 6054 (AD 561/62 date in Mango and Scott edn. (1997)), following closely the lost Malalas 18.132, records for October 561 that in a riot of the factions the shops and portals as far the Forum of the Ox were burnt, implying damage to the Upper Mese. Dating summary: 561, class x (historical text), publication 3/3. (3) AD 562: The urban prefect of Constantinople, Barsymias, had his house on the Mese burnt in a faction riot in May 562 (Malalas 18.135), when the Mese portico was burned as far as the bronze tetrapylon. Dating summary: 562, class x (historical text), publication 3/3. 12CPL Constantinople (Lower Mese, phase 1, plus subsequent ‘Constantinian’ sewers): This is not considered here to be late antique, but is included for reference purposes, along with the ‘Constantinian’ sewers, which cannot be first phase but reveal important structural details on the early street. Of dating, we are told by Zosimus 2.30.2–4 that Severus built the porticoes of the Mese between the old city gate at the Forum of Constantine and the city centre, after sacking the city in AD 196 (Severus died in 211). Constantine is also said by Zosimus to have provided a huge gate in Proconnesian marble for the street that Septimius Severus had built up to the site of his gate in his city wall, which was now the eastern boundary of the former’s new forum. Mango has suggested that the role of Severus in the city’s development has been exaggerated, and a number of buildings were wrongly ascribed to him by conservatives living around AD 500: C. Mango, “Septime Sévère et Byzance”, CRAI 147.2 (2003) 593–608, a view recently repeated by A.-V. Pont, “Septime Sévère et Byzance: l’invention d’un fondateur”, AnTard 18 (2010) (191–98) 197–98, on the grounds that Constantinople needed to invent an early history appropriate to its later status. However, I am inclined to believe Zosimus in this case: this passage could have been used by Zosimus to demonstrate the inferiority of Constantine, yet he does the opposite: the works of Severus serve as a foil to those of Constantine, which are depicted as grandiose. We cannot rule out a Constantinian renovation of the Lower Mese on the present evidence. One argument in favour is that the rents of 950 shops were allocated to the Great Church of the city by Constantine: Just. Nov. 59 preface (AD 537). This does suggest a foundation or reorganisation of colonnaded streets at the time

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of the foundation of the city, but we cannot be sure that they included this lower section of the street. However, the width of the Upper and Lower Mese were not of the same order, with that of the Lower Mese being substantially narrower. This suggests very strongly that they were indeed planned for an earlier less grandiose project, as does the sandstone / dark paving of the Lower Mese detected at the Milion sondage (see below), which contrasts to marble paving seen elsewhere on the main streets of the centre (at Chalke, at the north-south road running past the Basilica / Hagia Sophia, on the Upper Mese: see appendices F3 (for Chalke), C9a (for north-south Hagia Sophia road), C2 (Upper Mese), and on the Forum of Constantine (appendix K1b). I will accept both strains of argument as indicating a pre-Constantinian origin for the first phase of monumental street, which, until proved otherwise, is best ascribed to the reign of Severus, on the basis of literary sources. Of dimensions of the street, an opportunity to examine the Severan width of the Lower Mese comes from Mamboury’s plan from the archives of the German Institute. On this, a 4-piered arch is shown, at the top of the Lower Mese, where it approaches or joins the Forum of Constantine. The map is printed best by J. Bardill, “The Palace of Lausus and nearby monuments in Constantinople: a topographical study”, AJA 101.1 (1997) (67–95) 72, fig. 3 without a scale, but with the scale derived from the similar plan in C. Mango, “Constantine’s porphyry column and the chapel of St. Constantine”, Δελτίον XAE 10 (1980–81) (103–10) pl. 18a. Mamboury’s plan as published by Bardill [and also consulted by me in the original] shows a three-portalled arch, which he believed represented the gate of the GrecoRoman city wall (i.e. that built by Severus), although it is possible it represents one of the two arches built by Constantine on his forum. This arch seems to be earlier than the great double sewer running down the Mese from the new city, as the sewer does not take proper account of the structure in setting its line (at least as it appears on the plans, in a dashed, partly conjectural form at the point where it meets the arch). Such a relationship would only occur if the sewers were later than the arch, as the arch would not have sought to obstruct it, as it would have compromised its foundations. There is some doubt as to the architectural reality of the ‘Severan’ arch, as shown on Mamboury’s drawing, as only part of one pier (the second from the south) is actually drawn in solid, with some attached paving, the rest being hatched. It seems possible that Mamboury has reconstructed the arch entirely from the solid features using a line of symmetry that accepts the great Mese sewers as running along the centre of the street. This hatching has caused a secondary annotator to put question marks over three piers of the plan and a note suggesting that parts of it are reconstructed. However, in support of Mamboury’s

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‘reconstructed’ arch, I note the following details. Firstly, that immediately south of the confirmed pier is a coherent patch of irregularly sized slabs (see below). This odd style of paving is only used along its width, not east or west of it. Therefore it makes most sense as an area of ‘filling’ set between the confirmed pier and a similar obstacle to the south. Secondly, a pier of the size indicated is not surprising for an arch. Thirdly, the mid-street position which the pier occurs in (with mid-street defined here by the alignment of the double sewer), is appropriate for an arch. Fourthly, there seems to be a sidewalk of ca. 1.8 m wide (see below) running east, just south of the confirmed pier, drawn in hard lines; the position of this sidewalk implies a portico stylobate on its south side, which would join up to the place where Mamboury reconstructed the northeast corner of the last pier to the south. We cannot know if Mamboury saw more; it is possible he saw a full set of rough denuded foundations from which he drew on the other piers. Nevertheless, based on the detail he drew in hard lines, an arch seems likely at this spot, of the dimensions Mamboury suggests, set around a line of symmetry defined by the overall line of the great Mese sewers. If we assume that all the piers of the gate were identical, as on the plan of Mamboury, then we are dealing with an arch set in a rectangle ca. 16.5 m by 6 m, with 4 piers of ca. 2 m by 6 m, each about 2.75 m apart, with the central passage a little wider. The street porticoes cannot have been aligned to enclose the subsidiary portals of the arch. If they did, the roadway would have been only around 6 m wide, without sidewalks, which is too narrow for a main street. Rather, the porticoes likely lined up with the outer piers, giving a roadway width of around 12.5 m, without sidewalks. If the rear walls of the porticoes were engaged with the very outer corners of the outer piers of the arch, and the fronts of the portico stylobates were engaged with the inner corners of the same outer piers, we could imagine porticoes of 2 m width on each side of the road. This would have made the total road width from portico rear wall to rear wall of 16.5 m, meaning that the porticoes were closed where they reached the arch rather than being open to the passages. Thus, we have a road much narrower than the Upper Mese roadway, as suggested by the Arch of Theodosius and surrounding substructures, which was 24 m with porticoes on each side of 6 m each, making a total roadway width of 36 m (see above appendix C2). If we deduct sidewalks of 1.8 m, on each side of the road, then the dimensions of the Lower Mese at this point are: portico 2 m, sidewalk 1.8 m, roadway 8.9 m, sidewalk 1.8 m, portico 2 m, total 16.5 m. It is important to point out that the width of the Severan Lower Mese may have varied: it seems to have had different dimensions at its southern terminus at the Milion, where a portico 5 m wide can be envisaged (see below on phase 2 of this street.)

Of the porticoes, we have no details, other than the potential width described above. However, C. Mango, The Brazen House: a Study of the Vestibule of the Imperial Palace of Constantinople (Copenhagen 1959) 79 has suggested that we should consider the implications of a passage of Victor Tonnensis, Chronica AD 513 (MGH AA 11.195) who notes that, in a fire under Anastasius, 94 columns were burnt from the Chalke to the Forum of Constantine, which Mango calculates as implying a ca. 6 m interval over the 600 m of this distance. This gives columns of an impossibly large size. Using the super-wide araeostyle of Vitr. De arch. 3.4.3 (where columns are spaced 4 diameters apart, too wide for masonry architraves) this would give columns of ca. 1.2 m thick which would mean a height for the columns alone of between 9.6 m and 12 m, without bases or capitals (based on https://mrouchell.files.wordpress.com/2013/03/ classical-orders1.jpg (last accessed January 2017)). The araeostyle allows us the smallest possible estimate of column width and length within Mango’s logic. These sizes are not easily compatible with the archaeological evidence reviewed above for the Lower Mese. Columns of this size would have been too big even for the Upper Mese, with its porticoes each ca. 10 m wide. Indeed, in this area, we find smaller columns: the 7 m high tree-trunk columns from the Upper Mese / Forum of Theodosius [found in the Basilica Cistern] or the tree-trunk columns of the Arch of the Forum of Theodosius which had columns of ca. 10.8 m in height. Perhaps Victor’s remark implied that within the porticoes there was damage for 94 columns length, even though there were more columns than this between the Chalke and the Forum of Constantine. Alternatively, A.M. Schneider, “Brände in Konstantinopel”, ByzZ (1941) (392–403) 384 suggests that the (Chlake of the) Hippodrome is meant by Victor Tonnensis: he notes that with column distance of 3.5 m, as on many colonnaded streets, then the fire should have extended for 330 m which is just about far enough to get from the Forum of Constantine to the Hippodrome (which has its own Chalke Gate), but not to the Chalke of the Palace. Given that phase 2 interaxial intervals between columns were 2.5 m is this street, and that the Lower Mese was quite a lot narrower than the Upper Mese, we should prefer an estimate of 3.5 m interaxial distance, with an unknown column height. Of sidewalks, it is likely that an isolated line of rectangular slabs shown on the Mamboury plan, running along the line of the street east of the extant arch pier (second pier from the south) represents a stretch of sidewalk running in front of the south portico of the street. It has a width of ca. 1.8 m from the presumed line of the portico stylobate, being actually visible for more like 1 m. The fact that the line of slabs is aligned in a row running the length of the street makes it very likely that it represents a sidewalk, rather than just a row of street slabs, as normally street

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters paving slabs were aligned transversally or diagonally to the street, but not running with the traffic, which would likely lead to more slabs being displaced from the pressure of traffic, and lead to more ruts forming. It is not certain what phase this sidewalk belongs to, but it should at least date the same time as or later than the arch. If we do accept two sidewalks for this street, projecting from the 1st and 4th pier from the south, then only the central portal of the arch would have been open to wheeled traffic. I thank N. Westbrook for his critical remarks on my discussion of the arch, which have led me to notice the sidewalk and to provide a better justification for the reconstruction of the arch itself. Of architectural elements, the drawings of the frieze of the Column of Arcadius in the Freshfield Album provide some detail as to their appearance ca. AD 400, as seen through the eyes of an artist in 1574. Here the (‘Severan’) section of the Mese, between the city centre and the Forum of Constantine, is shown with single-storey arcaded porticoes. It is worth noting that the porticoes of the Forum of Constantine are also shown on the Column of Arcadius image as single-storeyed, even though we are told by Zosimus that they were two-storeyed (Zos. 2.30.4), although the drawing is much more schematic here. For the Freshfield Album, see E. Mayer, Rom ist dort, wo der Kaiser ist: Untersuchungen zu den Staatsdenkmälern des dezentralisierten Reiches von Diocletian bis zu Theodosius II (Mainz 2002) plate 21. This source must be used with caution, as another drawing of part of the column shows variant details on what must have been a difficult monument to draw accurately from the ground: J. Kollwitz, Oströmische Plastik der theodosianischen Zeit (Studien zur Spätantiken Kunstgeschichte 12) (Berlin 1941) 21–22. As I will argue below, it is possible that the bottom of the north portico of the Lower Mese has been excavated in its first (Severan) phase at the Milion sondage. On the paving, see below. Of statuary, the street is imaginatively illustrated in the Freshfield Album frieze drawing as being occupied by numerous statues, at least two of which seem to be mythological (the two figures on the upper right closest to the Forum of Constantine, including one with a reptilian tail: a hydra?); there is also a Victory, and honorific statues (including one equestrian, one on a column). This depiction seems to represent a confusion with the decor of the Hippodrome, but there were undoubtedly some statues here. Malalas records that the bronze statues of the Mese brought to the city by Constantine were melted down by comes sacrarum largitionum John the Paphlagonian to make a colossal statue of Anastasius: Malalas 16.13; Marcell. com. AD 505–506 (506). Of sewers, a set of two large parallel sewers running down the Mese are recorded by E. Mamboury, “Les fouilles Byzantines à Istanbul et dans sa banlieue immédiate aux

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XIXe et XXe siècles”, Byzantion 11 (1936) (229–83) 253. The route of the sewers can be traced in three places on plans. (i) The first is in the Forum of Theodosius where they pass under the arch: R. Naumann, “Neue Beobachtungen am Theodosiusbogen und Forum Tauri in Istanbul”, IstMitt 26 (1976) (117–41) fig. 2 (by E. Mamboury). (ii) The second comes from the Forum of Constantine, on Mamboury’s plan from the archives of the German Institute, printed by J. Bardill, “The Palace of Lausus and nearby monuments in Constantinople: a topographical study”, AJA 101.1 (1997) (67–95) 72, fig. 3. (iii) The third is on the Lower Mese, where they turn to the east slightly, as shown on the plan of Schneider (at the north side of the Hippodrome, before they get to the Milion ‘corner’): A.M. Schneider, “Grabung im Bereich des Euphemiamartyrions zu Konstantinopel”, AA 58 (1943) (255–89) 257 fig. 1, showing a clear change in direction a few degrees to the east. See also N. Firatli, “Short report on finds and archaeological activities outside the Museum”, Istanbul Arkeoloji Müzeleri Yıllığ 11 / 12 (1964) 207–14 and 209–210 (not seen) with further references in J. Bardill, Brickstamps of Constantinople, vol. 1: Text (Oxford 2004) 77 nn. 79–80. Of the design of the sewers, Mamboury notes that they were a double sewer, with each being 1.6 m wide and 2 m high, constructed of beautiful blocks, with a brick vault that was covered with a sandstone paving that supported a marble water channel (an arrangement seen elsewhere, e.g. Jerusalem). Drains from the street entered the sewer every 40 m. Inside the sewer were projections in the walls that allowed planks to be set to allow cleaning. Mamboury says that these sewers were found all along the Mese: at the Milion (not to be confused with those found in 1967–68, after Mamboury had died); at the Forum of Constantine; at the Artopolium (where the Bronze Tetrapylon was); and at the Arch of the Forum of Theodosius. The latter two cases are on the Upper Mese. Sections of the sewers have not often been described. A very simple outline section of the Mese double sewers is recorded with the Mamboury plan of the Forum of Theodosius referred to above, where they appear ca. 1.6 m wide and more than ca. 2 m deep, handmeasuring off a rough photocopy I have, and are vaulted. A detailed section was recorded going through the Forum of Constantine, aligning with sewers of the Mese elsewhere, though not with the forum paving or the Column of Constantine, as is visible in Mamboury’s plan published in C. Mango, “Constantine’s porphyry column and the chapel of St. Constantine”, Δελτίον XAE 10 (1980–81) (103–10) pl. 18b (drains to south of column). These show a vaulted sewer (with one row of bricks making up the vault) of ca. 1.9 m wide by 2.1 m deep, with two levels of projections for supporting planks to allow access, the upper of which would have left a semi-circular cavity of ca. 80 cm high and 1.6 m wide for cleaners to crawl through. A manhole for access

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from the paving is also marked. The plan of the Forum of Constantine cited above also shows this manhole along with a lateral passage linking the two sewers, close to the Column of Constantine. At the “Atropôleion”, where the GedikPaşa and the Yeniçeriler Caddesi meet, the ‘same’ sewer was observed in the 1960s (1.5 m wide and 1.6 m deep, covered by a brick arch (two rows thick, 0.65 m thick)). The sewer was covered with two parallel marble water channels, carved from reused blocks, an arrangement seen in other later antique sewers. Secondary lines of this sewer extended into side streets. A second vault-sewer was found below this sewer: No author, “Finds at the Çarşıkapı underground passage”, Istanbul Arkeoloji Mùzeleri Yıllığ 11/12 (1964) 209–10 with pl. 38, of which the plate was not seen by me. In each of these sites there is a double sewer, running down the Mese, but the width was clearly not identical, and in some cases there were special structural features present. Of phasing of the sewers, the fact that the sewers do extend in a single exactly-aligned system (with an integrated water system) for nearly 1200 m along both the lower ‘Severan’ Mese and the ‘Constantinian’ Mese, indicates they must date to the time of Constantine or later. The double sewer line also cuts through the foundations of the assumed ‘Severan’ city gate on the east side of the Forum of Constantine. Furthermore, on one plan of Mamboury (that of the Forum of Constantine) there appears to be an earlier drainage system running across the forum of Constantine that was laid parallel to the column and its paving, likely as part of the primary design of the plaza. This last information strongly suggests that the Mese sewers were not conceived until after the Forum was complete. This could generate a TPQ for the sewers. For a TAQ it is pertinent that the piers of the ‘Arch of Theodosius’ in the Forum Tauri do not clip the sewers, and are well spaced in relation to them, suggesting that the piers were built later than the sewers, as they do not alter their route to achieve this. All observations here are made from the plans of Mamboury cited above. The lack of any alteration or encroachment of the route of the Mese sewers at this arch does suggest that the arch is later than the sewers. This leads me to think that the sewers could be 4th c. in date. The arch is itself not welldated, but seems to be sited to serve the first phase of the forum, itself being posterior to the nymphaeum / exedra established on the north side of the plaza, which may be that of the nymphaeum of Valens. It is thus probable that the arch belongs to the Theodosian phase of the plaza, contemporary with work on the column of Theodosius between 385 and 394, according to Theophanes and Chron. Pasch. (appendices F9 and K1a). Of dating of the sewers, we can then tentatively set the date of the sewers on archaeological grounds as sometime

after the completion of works on the Forum of Constantine (probably completed in 330, at the dedication of the city), but sometime before the Arch of Theodosius, likely built as part of the Theodosian phase of the plaza between 385 and 394, according to Theophanes and Chron. Pasch. (appendices F9 and K1a). It is important to note that variations in the construction of the sewer, as noted above, within the unified planned drainage scheme of the avenue, suggest that the system may have taken some time to complete. Other dating information is available, but does not offer the same clarity. E. Mamboury, “Les briques Byzantines marquées du chrisme”, Annuaire de l’Institut de Philologie et d’Histoire Orientales 9 (1949) (449–62) 460–61 (not seen) wished to use Patria 1.63 as a source. Within a clearly legendary account of the deeds of senators and officials of the time of Constantine, this text ascribes the construction of the sewers of the city and the colonnaded street of the Mese from the Chalke to the Exakionion (i.e. the site of the gate of the Constantinian wall, see appendix F7a) to the praepositus Urbicius. M. identifies this with PLRE 2.1188 Vrbicius 1, ca. 449–50, ca. 470–81 and 491, given that other famous people listed in the passage seem to include known 5th c. personalities. In combination with brickstamps which he found in the Mese sewers, naming a range of indictions (8th, 9th, 11th and 12th), M. came up with a date of 442/43– 443/44 for the sewer construction. J. Bardill, Brickstamps of Constantinople, vol. 1: Text (Oxford 2004) 77–78 notes that there is no evidence which can give an absolute date to the sewers or the brickstamps. Yet, Bardill himself (pp. 27–28) indicates that brickstamps seem to be rare in 4th c. construction, suggesting that a date in that century is unlikely. Overall, I wish to use dating termini for the Mese double sewers based on the completion of the Forum of Constantine ca. 330 and the construction of the Arch of Theodosius in 394. Personally, I think that the creation of the sewers is likely strongly connected to the provision of an artificial water supply to the Mese in association with the aqueduct of Valens. The provision of a continuous flow at the height of the Forum of Theodosius and its nymphaeum, completed in 372–73 (see appendix H1) would have made this great investment necessary, reducing the dating range to 372–394. However, in the absence of proofs for this I prefer to use the wider dating of 330–94, described above. Of the paving (which needs to be considered after the sewers in this case), Mamboury’s plan from the archives of the German Institute, best printed in Bardill (1997) 72, fig. 3 (but with a scale on the similar plan in Mango (1980–81) pl. 18a), shows paving in the subsidiary (‘pedestrian’) passage of the south side of the arch on the east side of the Forum of Constantine. This paving is of large rectangular slabs, similar in size to those found on the forum but not arranged in rows, rather just laid in a jigsaw fashion of different sized

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters pieces, of dimensions ca. 1.5 m by 1.5 m, though of different proportions, which suggests they were laid to adapt to the pre-existing confined space of the gate. Another part of the plan shows an area of paving just east of the arch on the Lower Mese, which are of similar sizes but of rectangular blocks sorted into straight rows of irregular width, comparable to that of the forum (ca. 0.57–1.1 m wide and individual slabs being of very variable length, of ca. 1–2 m: see appendix K1a), but which seems to be associated with a side road coming in with a sewer (marked in dashes) from the north. It cannot be known which phase of the Mese these slabs belong to, whether Severan or Constantinian, so unfortunately have to be disregarded. A better idea can be obtained from the Milion sondage (below), at the south end of the Mese. Here, the lowest (Severan?) paving recorded seems to be of much smaller slabs, only 0.3 m wide and ca. 0.10–0.15 m thick [hand-measured from the section]. Mamboury also recorded such slabs in his description of the sewers on the Lower Mese (Mamboury (1936) 253): the sewers were capped by “grès” (sandstone) slabs 12 cm thick, onto which was set a water channel (sometimes in marble blocks, sometimes in “conduits de terre”). Therefore I take the slabs exposed at the Milion also as being sandstone, although this is a supposition. The report is keen to describe marble slabs elsewhere, so this seems fair. It is very unlikely that Constantine would have paved the Lower Mese anew in small slabs if he had used large slabs for his nearby Forum (in marble) and the adjacent streets (such as the Regia, the north-south street going from the Milion to Hagia Sophia, and the Upper Mese: see appendices F7a, C9a and C2), and on the Forum of Constantine (appendix K1b). Thus, we must envisage that when the sewers were installed on the Lower Mese they were then recovered with Severan sandstone slabs. Of comparanda for the slabs, it is worth noting, that in the Forum of Theodosius the paving was of marble slabs of ca. 2 m by 1 m or greater: Naumann (1976) 122 fig. 4, whereas that in the ‘Basilica’ courtyard (as rebuilt by Justinian) was of Proconnesian Marble of irregular sizes, 0.7–1.05 m by 1.5–2.0 m (appendix S3). The north-south street in front of the Chalke was paved in marble slabs at least 0.62 m by 0.31 m in size (appendix F7a). In contrast, the Augusteion was paved in dark stones ca. 0.3 m by 0.15 m (1 ft by 0.5 ft; see appendix S3). Thus, it is possible that there were zones of sandstone paving in the ‘old’ part of the city, with slabs of modest dimensions. It is also possible that an ephemeral second paving, equivalent to that in the Forum of Constantine and the Upper Mese, was installed on the Lower Mese under Constantine towards the Milion (as it certainly was towards the Forum, likely in the period between inauguration and dedication of the new city), and that this paving was then removed when major phase 2 of the street was built. It is a great pity that the relationship

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between the double sewers and the paving was not recorded near the Milion by Mamboury, and that it did not survive / was not observed in the Forum of Constantine. We cannot even be sure that the ‘Severan’ gate at the top of the Lower Mese was demolished by the sewers, or if they adapted to it, as here the sewer line is conjectural. The Arch of the Forum of Theodosius remains the best dating reference for the sewers, providing a TAQ, which must be after the Forum given their alignment. I am grateful to Jonathan Bardill for initial discussion of the evidence for the Mese over email, which was highly useful. Dating summary (for the first phase of the Mese): range 196–211, midpoint 203.5, class x (historical text), Cs3 (associative, phase of development), publication 3/3. Dating summary (for the paving of the Mese with large blocks in the style of the Forum of Constantine): range 324– 330, midpoint 327, class x (historical text), publication 3/3. Dating summary (for the double sewers of the Mese): range 330–94, midpoint 362, class x (historical text), publication 3/3. Poor. 12CPL Constantinople (Lower Mese, secondary phase (Justinianic)): Of phasing, there are 4 places to examine this street. We need to consider the evidence of each site separately, before considering what it means collectively. (1) ‘Palace of Lausus’, west side of Lower Mese: Next to the so-called Palace of Lausus, some cellular shops were excavated, along with two parallel drains to the east, which have been found running right up to the Forum of Constantine. Stretches of a parallel wall on the eastern side were uncovered, but not properly recorded. On the excavation of the shops on the western side of the road, see the report of R. Naumann, “Vorbericht über die Ausgrabungen zwischen Mese und Antiochus-Palast 1964 in Istanbul”, IstMitt 15 (1965) 135–48 with fig. 1 (excavation plan) and fig. 5 (reconstructed plan including areas not excavated), although this is not the most extensive plan produced of the German excavations, which is W. Müller-Wiener (1977) Bildlexikon zur Topographie Istanbuls (Tübingen 1977) pl. 109. For the drains, see A.M. Schneider, “Grabung im Bereich des Euphemiamartyrions zu Konstantinopel”, AA 58 (1943) (255–89) 257 fig. 1. Of dimensions, Naumann’s report ((Naumann (1965) esp. 145–46, with fig. 1, and plates 40.1–4) notes that a phase of the cellular shops running along the Mese consisted of rooms (3 of which were excavated), of which the southernmost two measured internally ca. 4.75 m deep and perhaps ca. 7.1 m wide (if his reconstructed plan, which relies on symmetry, is right). The northernmost example, some 40 m distant, seems to have the same depth of ca. 4.75 m but a lesser width of ca. 6 m (again a reconstructed plan relying on symmetry to rebuild missing parts). Both sets of measurements were hand-measured off the plan. N.B. that this

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plan has a slightly incorrect scale, as 11 m are accidentally labelled as 10 m in the first part of the scale, which is otherwise correct. Of architectural features, the openings of the shops, for which door attachments have been recorded, are very wide (7 m), opening up across practically the whole façade, except for a pier midway in the gap. This is an arrangement that I have not seen in other rows of late antique shops. The plan arrangement suggests arcading, with an interpier interval of ca. 2.5 m in one section and 4 m in another, measuring from the middle of the pier. One might imagine a form of façade arcading, perhaps symbolically replacing the portico of the colonnade in front of the shops, but supporting a portico on the storey above. This can be suggested because the arcaded façades now took the same line as the “Arcades Chalinariques” portico seen in the Forum of Constantine (see below) which likely also belongs to the 6th c. (post Nika-riot) phase. Such an arrangement would have permitted wider shops on the ground floor, with porticoes at a second storey serving smaller shops, thus preserving the classical porticoed appearance of the street. Access to the lower storey shops from the street could be achieved by a sidewalk, rather than a portico, so conserving a decent width for the roadway. Access to the upper storey shops and their portico would be via stairs. Of phasing and dating, the back wall of the shops was constructed with a greenish stone foundation on which 11 brick levels were set. This recalled to the excavators the secondary apses added to the adjacent long dining hall of the Palace of ‘Lausus’, which had a greenish stone layer followed by 13 brick levels, followed by a second stone layer, followed by 13 or 14 brick levels. They dated the latter apses by comparing them with dated structures at Constantinople, of the fourth decade of the 6th c. (SS. Sergius and Bacchus apse, south Irene atrium piers, Zeuxippos baths apse). These parallels are reasonable, though the phase of the dining hall seems to be after the extant phase of shops, because the axial apse appears to respect the projected line of the row. Bardill confirms, from well-dated monuments around the capital, that from the early 6th c. constructions of brick-faced concrete with 10 or more courses of brick to each course of greenstone, are common around the city: J. Bardill, Brickstamps of Constantinople, vol. 1: Text (Oxford 2004) 52–53. Remains of earlier phases were detected (Naumann (1965) 146) in the shops’ walls, but the report is not sufficiently precise to be certain if they were part of earlier shops, although this is what I assume. The 6th c. dating of the shops implies that the final major rebuilding of the wide (unexcavated) street here is likely to be of that date. (2) Palace of Lausus, east side of Lower Mese: Here, stretches of walls running parallel to the street alignments recovered by Naumann, forming part of the modern street

boundaries, were drawn (with no further details provided) on A.M. Schneider, Byzanz. Vorarbeiten zur Topographie und Archäologie der Stadt. Mit e. Beitrag v. W. Karnapp. (Berlin 1936) Tafel 10, where the map is given as the work of E. Mamboury 1918–1932. This wall has been replotted onto other maps e.g. J. Bardill, “The Palace of Lausus and nearby monuments in Constantinople: a topographical study”, AJA 101.1 (1997) (67–95) 70, fig. 1 (notably also using Naumann’s maps below). They also appear on A.M. Schneider, “Grabung im Bereich des Euphemiamartyrions zu Konstantinopel”, AA 58 (1943) (255–89) 257 fig. 1, although this second plan introduces some changes, notably to the line of the sewers, that subsequent authors have missed. Of dimensions, our estimates depend on what we consider the wall alignments to represent. The ‘Mamboury wall’, corresponds with the modern street façade, so it seems reasonable to equate it with the last major monumental rebuilding of the Mese and so I include it here, although it could have followed the original Severan line, as I argue it did at the Milion, further east along the same portico. The wall may represent the front wall of the shops, or a portico stylobate. It cannot represent the rear wall of the shops, as this would make the road width only 7 or 8 m. It may represent the front wall of the shops with an integrated false colonnade, as on the south side of the street. This would give a street width, of ca. 18 m, between the Naumann west side alignment and the east side alignment of Mamboury. More likely, the ‘Mamboury wall’, given that it is heavy and continuous, might represent a shop front wall, as it does today, fronted by a further portico of a conventional type. If this was a portico of 2 m width (as I anticipate for the Severan Lower Mese at its north terminus), it would have given a roadway of 16 m, or 13 m with a portico of 5 m (as I anticipate for the bottom end of the Mese). However, even if the Mamboury wall was the former stylobate of the east portico, the overall street width would only have been 20 / 23 m wide, far narrower than the great street of the Upper Mese at the Forum of Theodosius, which reached 36 m in width (see appendix C2). It is important to note that a number of scholars have made hypotheses about the width and form of the Lower Mese at this point, which cannot be sustained by the evidence. The double sewers in the road probably did not run down the centre of the road along all of its length. Close to the point where they passed the ‘Naumann’ shops, the sewers turn two corners on the map of Schneider (1943) 257 fig. 1, as they come level with the Hippodrome. The path which they take suggests that we cannot use them to reconstruct the Mese width using symmetry derived from dimensions known for the east side of the road. Such proposed symmetry seems likely to be the basis of the Mese width of 25 m (including porticoes) suggested by C. Mango, Le développement urbain de Constantinople (IV–VII siècles) (Paris,

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters 2nd edn. 1990) 27. Mango may have been influenced by the plan of Mamboury published in his book of 1957, which still envisaged a straight sewer right along the Lower Mese, running directly through a point where Schneider draws them, without the changes in angle that Schneider drew in 1943: C. Mango, The Brazen House: a Study of the Vestibule of the Imperial Palace of Constantinople (Copenhagen 1959) fig. 38. Mango cites the example of Antioch in justification for his overall width, but one should note that the road uncovered by J. Lassus, Antioch-on-the-Orontes V: les portiques d’Antioche (Princeton 1972) 125 pl. 69, is 30 m wide in its Roman condition (measuring from the plan) because it has exceptionally wide porticoes: the roadway was only some 10 m wide in fact (6 m for its Justinianic width, because of sidewalks), which seems to be true of the Lower Mese. See E. Mamboury, “Les fouilles Byzantines à Istanbul et dans sa banlieue immédiate aux XIXe et XXe siècles”, Byzantion 11 (1936) (229–83) 253 on the sewer and water channel elsewhere on the Mese. One should also be cautious of using the reconstructed plan of Naumann of the Lower Mese (see below), which assumes that the Column of Constantine was aligned with the centre of the Mese, although this was not the case (see above appendix F9 on column). (3) ‘Milion’ Sondage, south end of Lower Mese: Another chance to evaluate the final ancient condition of the Lower Mese comes at the so-called ‘Milion’ sondage: N. Fıratlı and T. Ergıl, “Divanyolu ‘Milion’ sondajı”, IstArkMùzYill 15/16 (1969) (199–212, for English summary). This excavation has in my view been seriously misinterpreted (as a ‘tetrapylon’ of entirely unconventional plan). Foundations have been excavated which it is simplest to believe equate with the Lower Mese’s final eastern portico and its back wall, especially when surrounding features are taken into consideration. There is also an area of paving in the same trench, exposed on the south-west side of the pier, which I take as corresponding with the roadway of the Mese itself. Having seen many tetrapyla and many porticoes, I think we have here a portico, defined by two parallel foundations, one of the east portico colonnade stylobate including a pier, and the second of the east portico back wall / front wall of the shops behind. The portico pier revealed in the trench, appears to be the very last pier relating to the Mese east portico, before it opened out into the Milion junction, with the back wall turning north to form the back wall of a north-south street. This supposition is supported by a sharp change in direction of the sewer found here, which suggests that we are at a major street junction. Of reported phases, there is a first phase in stone blocks, and then a second phase in brick, used to rebuild the portico pier. The excavators (without any published justification) assume this first phase to be Constantinian, rather than, say, Severan. The excavators then note a significant major second phase, in which the portico is entirely

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excavated out very deep, a sewer is set along the ‘portico’, and then it is covered by a deep fill that raises the floor of the portico 2 m above the phase 1 foundation level, to above where the brick begins: p. 211. They consider the sewer to be 6th c., on account of parallels with one which runs under St. Polyeuctos (see below). The relevant report text in English is sometimes hard to follow. However, the section on fig. 1b makes things very clear, especially if the ‘road’ section and the ‘portico’ section drawings are read together. This has allowed me to suggest the following revised phasing. Of revised phases, the section drawing shows the following sequence: (i) The first road paving (of slabs, ca. 30 cm wide and ca. 10–15 cm thick, set on a thick supporting layer) corresponds with the foundation level of the first phase of the stone piers, and so seems to belong with them in the same phase. (ii) The road paving is then covered by a layer 0.75 cm high consisting of, ‘rough ceramics’, covered by a burnt level and then tile debris. (iii) The burnt layer is then all covered by a (paved) rubble layer 2 m wide against the portico pier, and a mortar foundation more than 2 m wide (extending beyond the edge of excavation). In my view, these two features are likely to represent the foundation of a 2 m wide sidewalk and a (robbed) second road pavement foundation, relating to second brick phase seen in the portico pier. (iv) The ‘roadway’ and ‘sidewalk’ are then both covered by a further 1.24–1.5 m of road foundation (with a marked camber), supporting a pavement in which slabs were set, at an uneven level, in contrast to the other levels. This final paving seems to correspond with what the excavators call the ‘second higher paving’, which they claim is ‘Byzantine’ on account of the coin finds. Thus, it seems clear that we have here a sequence of two ancient roadways with two corresponding portico phases (separated by a fire and roof collapse), followed by final phase of medieval road repaving. It is stratigraphically correct that the brick rebuilding of the stone pier is earlier than both the renovation of the portico (with a sewer and raised walking surface) and the creation of the higher road paving. The sidewalk is also later than the pier. However, taken as a whole, it seems likely that we have two major phases: a primary building of a colonnaded street and a coherent rebuilding. This phase seems to have burnt down. The disaster was followed by a raising of the level of the road by dumping rough ceramics (likely amphorae) 0.75 m high, onto which the first phase buildings were pulled down, burned roof debris first, broken buildings second. The second phase of the colonnaded street involved laying a rubble foundation supporting a new paving [now lost], a new paved sidewalk, a rebuilt portico, a new sewer within the portico, and a new portico floor. It should be noted that the equivalent raise in level, after the Nika Riot, between the atrium floor of Theodosian Hagia Sophia

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and the atrium floor of Justinianic Hagia Sophia was ca. 1.45 m, hand-measuring off the section of A.M. Schneider, Die Grabung im Westhof der Sophienkirche zu Istanbul (Istanbuler Forschungen 12) (Berlin 1941) plate 2. The distance between the Justinianic atrium floor and the street outside the Theodosian atrium was 2.7 m. Of dating, it seems reasonable to suggest that the fire (ii) and the second phase of building (iii) both date in the 6th c. AD, given the St. Polyeuctos parallels for the sewer and the historical circumstance of the Nika riots of 532. After this fire event, material was dumped onto the road and then portico debris was raked down before the paving was rebuilt on a higher level, before eventually being spoliated. Of dimensions, it is difficult to estimate the width of the very last section of the Mese at the ‘Milion’ sondage. One might note that the so-called north stylobate and north portico back wall are considerably further south (ca. 5 m) than the ‘Mamboury wall’ further up the north side of the Lower Mese, opposite the area where the shops were excavated by Naumann (see above). This might have made the street much narrower, if the west side retained the same alignment. However, it seems likely that the very bottom of the Lower Mese was not entirely straight, and that its famous double sewers did not in fact now run along the very centre of the road, as they do in upper parts of the street, as projected for the Lower Mese in the plan of Mamboury in C. Mango, The Brazen House: a Study of the Vestibule of the Imperial Palace of Constantinople (Copenhagen 1959) fig. 38 and Bardill (1997) fig. 2. The route of the double sewers is very different in the much more detailed plan of Schneider (1943) 257 fig. 1, who shows a section of the double sewers clearly changing direction where they pass the Hippodrome. Schneider would have had no reason for hypothesising this, so it is likely to be a factual observation, whereas Mamboury’s line is likely to be theoretical, derived from projecting a single straight line for the whole of the road, based on his knowledge of the Upper Mese. Thus, we do not need to imagine that the sewers or road were completely straight as it approached the city centre. My estimate for the dimensions of the bottom end of the Lower Mese comes from two pieces of undescribed masonry shown on the plan of Mamboury (labelled ‘D’), on the west side of the road. These hulks could equate with the west portico’s back wall and stylobate, provided we accept that the Mese had changed direction, like the sewers, at the north edge of the Hippodrome. If these walls were in existence at the same time as the ‘Milion’ portico, they would give a total road width of ca. 26.5 m (close to that of Mango, above), with porticoes of ca. 3.5 m on the south and ca. 5 m on the north, from back wall to front of stylobate, so leaving a roadway width of ca. 18 m, reduced to

14 m if we include the 2 m wide sidewalks that are likely to have existed on each side of the road. One should bear in mind that it is very difficult to reconcile the course of the Mese at the Naumann excavation with its terminus at the Milion area. Some sort of architectural solution would have been necessary to join the great street or its sewers to the alignments of buildings known in this area, such as the Zeuxippus baths, for which the plan of much of the walls is known from a recently uncovered map from the German Institute: N. Westbrook pers. comm. 2014. It is easiest to think that the Lower Mese changed course, more than once, as it approached a set of older massive monumental buildings which could not be removed to accommodate it. Of sewers, the vaulted passage present in the ‘portico’ turned a corner in the ‘Milion Sondage’ trench, to face the direction of the Great Palace and run down the ‘Regia’ street. From the section drawing, this sewer is clearly set within the rebuilding phase of the northern portico. Its construction, with brick vault and sides, is of a similar size and section to the sewers mentioned above, except that no projections for planks are drawn on the section (although “consoles” are mentioned). It was aligned further to the north than the line of the Mese double sewers planned by Mamboury and Schneider (see discussion above). The sewer measured off the section shown on Fıratlı and Ergıl (1969) fig. 2, are ca. 1.8 m wide and the depth (not excavated but can be estimated from other known sections) is likely to have been ca. 3.4 m. The ‘Milion’ sewer was believed by the excavators to be 6th c., citing its similarity to one that runs under St. Polyeuctos: N. Fıratlı and T. Ergıl, “Divanyolu ‘Milion’ sondajı”, Istanbul Arkeoloji Mùzeleri Yilliği 15/16 (1969) 199–212, with figs. 1–2; W. MüllerWiener, “Milion” in Bildlexikon zur Topographie Istanbuls: Byzantion, Konstantinupolis, Istanbul bis zum Beginn d. 17 Jh. (Tübingen 1977) 216–18 (N.B. a north arrow is missing from the plan). St. Polyeuctos seems to have been built in the period 518–27, with the earliest brickstamps being of 517/18 and the latest being 520/21, whilst a variety of texts suggest 527 as the terminus date, and that the building lasted 3 years: J. Bardill, “A new temple for Byzantium: Anicia Juliana, King Solomon and the gilded ceiling in the church of St. Polyeuktos in Constantinople”, in Social and Political Life in Late Antiquity, edd. W. Bowden, A. Gutteridge and C. Machado (Late Antique Archaeology 3.1) (Leiden 2006) (339–372) 340 drawing on J. Bardill, Brickstamps of Constantinople, vol. 1: Text (Oxford 2004) 62–63, 111–16. (4) Forum of Constantine, south-east side, north end of Lower Mese: A final indication of the secondary architectural arrangement of the Lower Mese may come from the line of a portico labelled by Mamboury on his plan as ‘Arcades Chalinariques’ on the plaza of the Forum of Constantine, south of the great column, aligned with the

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters Mese sewers. They are useful, even if they are not strictly part of the Lower Mese, as they seem to be part of the ?same rebuilding of the street. Of phasing, this colonnade looks to represent the portico of a secondary phase of the Mese. This can be suggested because its line hits the ‘Severan’ arch, on the east side of the Forum, somewhat inside the pedestrian passage of the southern subsidiary portal (where Mamboury detected a foundation, which appears to represent this colonnade). More obviously, the ‘Arcades Chalinariques’ do not seem to be a primary feature of the Forum, which was created by Constantine along with the Upper Mese. Literary sources state that the Forum was originally round, with Constantine’s column at its centre: e.g. drawings of the Column of Arcadius, Zosimus 2.30.2–4 (who describes an old gate of Severus at the end of colonnades that he built, and the two huge gates of Proconnesian marble that Constantine built when he put his circular forum here). But the ‘Arcades Chalinariques’ portico ignores any ‘round’ southern edge to the Forum, imposing a straight edge, aligned with the Upper Mese. This portico is also not aligned with Constantine’s column, unlike the paving of the plaza and its drains. Clearly, the architects who conceived the Forum of Constantine had not anticipated using an alignment of this type. Likely it relates to a major replanning, probably the same as that which led to a rebuilding of the Lower Mese after a fire in this area. Of architectural form, it is worth noting that the portico, as recorded on Mamboury’s plan, has an inter-axial interval, measuring from the middle of the columns, of 2.5 m, not 1.25 m as described in M.M. Mango, “The porticoed street at Constantinople,” in Byzantine Constantinople. Monuments, Topography and Everyday Life, ed. N. Necıpoğlu (Leiden 2001) (29–52) 46. If this is the same phase as the 6th c. development of the Lower Mese, one might imagine that the portico of the Lower Mese had one extra column on its portico for each pier in the shop front (which are at 5 m intervals): see above. Mamboury’s plan, from the archives of German Institute, is best printed by Bardill (1997) 72, fig. 3, but with a scale on the similar plan in C. Mango, “Constantine’s porphyry column and the chapel of St. Constantine”, Δελτίον XAE 10 (1980–81) (103–10) pl. 18a. (5) Conclusions, from all 4 sites: Of phasing and dating, it is difficult to draw together these areas, as the street elements within them are not identical in design and they are separated by distances of up to ca. 500 m, along the same street, which changes course and width along its length, especially towards the southern end. However, a common secondary phase is possible, given that the area experienced a major fire in 532 which necessitated complete rebuilding, elsewhere, as for example Hagia Sophia and the Basilica. The best dated area is that of (i) Naumann’s shops, where we have a catch-all

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masonry date of the 530s. (ii) The second-best dated area is the Milion sondage where there are clearly two phases and where the roadway reveals a major fire, set between the two phases, which recalls the Nika riot of 532. Furthermore, the sewer connected with the rebuilding phase has a parallel with the church of St. Polyeuctos 518–27. (iii) Then we have the disjuncture of the ‘Arcades Chalinariques’, which should date at least after the time of the Column of Arcadius, and seems to represent an attempt to build colonnades across the Forum of Constantine, to join the two parts of the Mese. However, we cannot be certain of this. This portico might well belong in a different time in the 5th or 6th c. Overall, I prefer to tentatively support a rebuild for the whole of the Lower Mese, in the 6th c., likely after 532, when the Nika riot is known to have burned this area. The rebuild took place sometime in the 530s, as indicated by the masonry style on the western side of the Mese. I take this rebuilding to have occurred within 5 years of 532, considering the speed at which the Basilica Cistern was likely constructed, and given the completion of the new Hagia Sophia by 537. As noted above, the primary phase of the Lower Mese was pre-Constantinian, as the literary sources state. This is obvious from the smaller width that it has in relation to that of the Upper Mese, at all points where it can be calculated. In the absence of other indicators, it is reasonable to suggest that the Lower Mese was built by Septimius Severus, as stated by Zosimus. Of architectural features and dimensions, for phase 2, I would tentatively reconstruct the following arrangement from both sites. The western street portico, now cut across the Forum of Constantine, depriving it of its round shape. But this new portico followed the alignment of the Upper Mese, rather than that of the Lower Mese. Here, the street remained narrow. There is no indication that the roadway width (without adding porticoes) of ca. 12.5 m changed at the ‘Severan Arch’ with a roadway width of ca. 16 m by Naumann’s shops and ca. 18 m by the Milion (without deducting sidewalks). At Naumann’s shops, the shops perhaps occupied the width of the portico on the west side as it passed the so-called ‘Palace of Lausus’ (where the most prestigious shops (silversmiths) were located), by incorporating the portico arcading directly into their façade, perhaps supporting a portico on the second floor. On the other side of the road, the eastern street portico, of 5 m width, was retained on the old line, given a new sewer and a new stone paving, as was the road surface in front of it, which was later robbed. A sidewalk of 2 m was established in front of the eastern portico, as it likely was for the western portico. If there were sidewalks on both sides of the road of 2 m, the final road width would have been 12 m by Naumann’s shops and 14 m by the Milion. Thus, the widest dimensions of the Lower Mese in its 6th c.

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rebuild, at the Milion, would have been (east-west): portico 3.5 m, sidewalk 2 m, roadway 14 m, sidewalk 2 m, portico 5 m, total 26.5 m. I am grateful to Jonathan Bardill for initial discussion of the evidence for the Mese, which was highly useful. Dating summary (of phase 2 of the Mese with sewer running through ‘portico’): range 532–37; midpoint 534.5; class Cs5 (catch-all masonry comparisons to dated buildings, supported by sewer comparison TPQ), x (historical, for Nika fire), publication 1/3. Poor. 12CPL Constantinople (Lower Mese, repairs) (6): Repairs likely occurred, at least to paint and woodwork, after the fires. I take this rebuilding to have occurred within 5 years of destruction, given the completion of the new Hagia Sophia by 537 after a fire of 532. See A.M. Schneider, “Brände in Konstantinopel”, ByzZ (1941) 392–403 for more details. (1) AD 406: porticoes next to the east end of the Hippodrome were burned, and were repaired with stone replacing wooden staircases going to the upper level: Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 296 (AD 406 date in edn. of Whitby and Whitby (1989)); Cod. Theod. 15.1.45 (AD 406). N.B. that Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 296 (AD 407 date in edn. of Whitby and Whitby (1989)) records the building of ‘Hippodrome steps to the stoa’, which might be stairs within the porticoes next to the Hippodrome, as much as steps within the Hippodrome to a stoa inside it. Dating summary: range 406–411, midpoint 408.5, class x (historical text), publication 3/3. (2) AD 475: Zonar. 14.2.22–24 (edn. of Pinder (1841–97) vol. 3 pp. 130–31 / edn. Dindorf (1868–75) vol. 3 pp. 256–57), or (PG 134.1206) with also Cedrenus (edn. of Bekker (1838– 39) vol. 1 p. 616) reporting a fire which started in the Copper Market, during trouble relating to the usurper Basiliscus, destroying two porticoes, the Basilica and its library, before burning the Mese from the Palace of Lausus to the Forum of Constantine. Of these monuments, the Palace of Lausus is the only one not located with any certainty. J. Bardill, “The Palace of Lausus and nearby monuments in Constantinople: a topographical study”, AJA 101.1 (1997) (67–95) esp. 79, 84–85, would like to place the Palace on the north side of the Mese, as this fire, and other fires involving the Palace of Lausus, seem to affect the north side of the Mese. As such, he denies the traditional attribution of the Palace of Lausus to a large domus south of the Mese, adjacent to the Palace of Antiochus. Dating summary: range 475–80, midpoint 477.5, class x (historical text), publication 3/3. (3) AD 498: Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 319 AD 498 (edn. of Whitby and Whitby (1989)); Malalas 16.43. The Mese was damaged between the Hexaippion (Diippion—a gate of the Hippodrome) and the Forum of Constantine. For the Diippion see C. Mango, “Le Diippion. Étude historique et topographique”, REByz 8 (1950) 152–61 and C. Mango, The

Brazen House: a Study of the Vestibule of the Imperial Palace of Constantinople (Copenhagen 1959) 27–29. Dating summary: range 498–503, midpoint 500.5, class x (historical text), publication 3/3. (4) AD 512/513: A fire burned Mese from Chalke to the Forum of Constantine, for a distance of 94 columns: Victor Tonnensis, Chronica 195 (MGH AA 11.163–224) for 513 with Mango (1959) 79. Marcellinus Comes puts these same events, without mentioning the fire, in 512. Dating summary: range 513–18, midpoint 515.5, class x (historical text), publication 3/3. (5) AD 532 (corrected date), Lower Mese: Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 327 AD 531 (edn. of Whitby and Whitby (1989)) records that in the Nika riot the Mese area was burnt from the Octagon to the arch of the Forum of Constantine, with the Basilica of the Silversmiths being entirely burnt. See also Procop. Pers. 1.24.9; Lydus, de mag. 3.70. For further references (a selection) describing the extent of the fire see: Theophanes AM 6024 (AD 531/32 date in edn. of Mango and Scott (1997)) (Great Church, St. Eirene, Hospice of Sampson, Augusteion, portico of the Basilica, and Chalke); Malalas 18.72 (praetorium, Chalke as far as the Scholae, Great Church, and public colonnade). Dating summary: 532–37, midpoint 534.5, class x (historical text), publication 3/3. N.B. I assume (above) that this fire was followed by a comprehensive rebuilding of the Lower Mese, which can be seen in its recorded structural remains. I treat this the same as the phase 2 rebuilding of the Lower Mese, described above. (6) AD 603, Lower Mese: Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 345 AD 603 (edn. of Whitby and Whitby (1989)) records that during a faction riot the Mese was burnt from the Palace of Lausus and the praetorium of the city prefect as far as the Treasury, opposite the Forum of Constantine. Dating summary: range 603–608, midpoint 605.5, class x (historical text), publication 3/3. 12CPL Constantinople (Regia): This street likely ran for a short distance from the palace entrance until the Milion. Chron. Pasch. Olympiad 277 AD 328 (edn. of Whitby and Whitby (1989)) notes, regarding Constantine, that ‘the … emperor built two beautiful porticoes from the entrance of the palace to the Forum which he adorned with statues and marble, and he called the place of the porticoes Regia.’ The text that follows this quotation deals with the Augusteion, not Constantine’s new round forum with his great column, which is addressed immediately before it. Thus, it is likely that the ‘forum’ to which the Regia led was the forum of the Augusteion. Whether any of the Regia was rebuilt after fires which damaged the Augusteion, or as part of rebuilding work on the Chalke Gate (at various dates), is unknown. Certainly, Cedrenus (edn. of Bekker (1838–39) vol. 1 p. 647) describes damage around the Augusteion in the Nika riot of AD 532, also in Zonar. 14.6.18–19 (edn. of

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters Pinder (1841–97) vol. 3 p. 154 / edn. Dindorf (1868–75) vol. 3 p. 127) (PG 134.1233). See comments (under Lower Mese, above) on the 94 columns from the Chalke to the Forum of Constantine that were burned in 513 according to Victor Tonnensis, Chronica AD 513 (MGH AA 11.195), damage which implies at least one rebuilding after this event. I take this rebuilding to have occurred within 5 years of destruction, given the speed at which the Basilica Cistern was likely constructed and given the completion of the new Hagia Sophia by 537. Recent excavations have brought to light the lower portions of a gate-like structure thought to represent the Chalke of the Great Palace as rebuilt by Justinian, which aligned with the ‘Milion’ area (i.e. the end of the bottom of the Mese where there is a change in direction / corner in the sewer, so that it points towards the Chalke): see appendix F3. This front portion of this gate seems in its final form to be 17.5 m across composed of two projecting piers 5 m wide set 7.5 m apart onto the palace perimeter wall into which was set a portal of 6.2 m. These two massive ashlar piers are likely half of a tetrapylon, built by Justinian and described by Procopius, which blocked the full width of a road junction between the Regia and an old north-south street: see appendix F7a. It is likely that the porticoes of the street going forward did not respect this structure, but were integrated to conjoin the piers of the structure, as in other cities where cross-hall and tetrapyla resolved street junctions. This would give for the Regia a width of 5 m for each portico, from back wall to roadside front of stylobate, and 7.5 m for the road. Marble slabs found south of the gate, against the palace boundary road, likely relate to the north-south road, not the Regia, but we could well imagine the Regia being paved in the same way. These slabs measure at least 0.62 m by 0.31 m: see appendix F7a. Dating summary (construction): 328, class x (historical text), publication 3/3. Dating summary (rebuilding after fire): range 513–18, midpoint 515.5, class x (historical text), publication 3/3. 13ASI Aizanoi: This colonnaded street was built using reused marble blocks, which are present in its colonnade, its portico paving and street paving, as it is in parts of the shops, some of which are Early Imperial: L. Lavan site observation 2005. The reuse includes an architrave marked with an inscription taken from a temple. For reports, see K. Rheidt, “Aizanoi. Bericht über die Ausgrabungen und Untersuchungen 1992 und 1993”, AA (1995) 693–718; M. Wörrle, “Inschriftenfunde von der Hallenstrassengrabung in Aizanoi 1992”, AA (1995) 719–27. See also K. Rheidt, “Aizanoi. Bericht über die Ausgrabungen, Restaurierungs- und Sicherungsarbeiten 1994, 1995 und 1996”, AA (1997) (431–64) 437–47. Of dimensions, measuring from the plan from Rheidt (1997) 439, fig. 6, the width of the street from the rear walls of the porticoes is 18 m, with the south portico

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approximately 5.5 m and the north portico 4 m, with the roadway 8.5 m in width. Of architectural features, columns are ca. 5 m high and Ionic capitals ca. 0.2 m high, with no bases and a flat architrave, according to Rheidt (1995) 702, fig. 11, giving a total colonnade height of 5.2 m. Of paving, details are a little harder to obtain. The main street plan of Rheidt (1995) 698 fig. 8 does not show the street but rather the stone plan of the colonnade elements as they fell. However, I was able to observe on site that the paving was of very large reused rectangular limestone slabs, arranged generally in rows that ran the length of the street, and sometimes in less ordered patterns. From my photos there appears no certain evidence of cutting to fit, but the slabs are generally placed close together: L. Lavan site observation July 2005. These details can also be seen on the partial stone plans published of one section of the street in Rheidt (1995) 712 fig. 31. Of shops, the plan seems to be inherited from Early Imperial times according to Rheidt (1995) 710 fig. 26, which excavations have dated to the 1st c. AD on pp. 712–715. The best plan of the shops is Rheidt (1997) 439 fig. 6, which shows the more extensive excavation of the shops, with a row of three or more identically-sized nearly-square cellular rooms on the north side and a row on the southern side of which only one shop has been excavated, though it was part of a row of three or more. I will not comment further on their form given their Early Imperial date. However, I saw that a reused cornice block was used as a threshold in the south row, suggesting at least extensive rebuilding in Late Antiquity, probably when the late colonnaded street was built here: L. Lavan site observation 2005. Of dating, coin(s) of 395 were found under levels beneath the construction level of the north portico stylobate, and a coin of 402 from a pithos sealed beneath the south portico, directly behind the south stylobate: Rheidt (1995) 712. I take these two coins to provide a weak contextual date of the first quarter of the 5th c. after 402, so 402–27. do not wish to use any arguments linked to the use of temple spolia / the fall of the temples as dating criteria, which the reports of Rheidt do not rely on. For the later occupation and dramatic destruction of the street (with columns falling flat), perhaps in a historically attested earthquake of 557, covered by layers with an early 7th c. coin, see appendix A5c. Dating summary: range 402–27, midpoint 414.5, class Cs8 (contextual coins), publication 3/3. 13ASI Sardis (east-west colonnaded street adjacent to the gymnasium): This major colonnaded street leads west from the city centre, on the south side of the gymnasium. The main works are J. Stephens Crawford, The Byzantine Shops at Sardis (Archaeological Exploration of Sardis 9) (Cambridge, Mass. 1990), with references to earlier

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bibliography; A. Harris, “Shops, retailing and the local economy in the Early Byzantine world: the example of Sardis”, in Secular Buildings and the Archaeology of Everyday Life in the Byzantine Empire, ed. K. Dark (Oxford 2004) 82–122; the most important preliminary report is G.M.A. Hanfmann, “The fourth campaign at Sardis (1961)”, BASOR 166 (1962) (1–57) 40–45. The south side has been excavated as sector MMS / N in the late 1980s and early 1990s, where a portico was revealed, becoming double-aisled at its eastern end: C.H. Greenewalt, C. Ratté and M.L. Rautman, “The Sardis campaigns of 1988 and 1989”, AASOR 51 (1993) 4–43; C.H. Greenewalt, C. Ratté and M.L. Rautman, “The Sardis campaigns of 1990 and 1991”, AASOR 52 (1994) (1–35) 5–7; C.H. Greenewalt, C. Ratté and M.L. Rautman (1995) “The Sardis campaigns of 1992 and 1993”, AASOR 53 (1995) 1–36. Of dimensions, the road is complex, as both the width of the porticoes and of the paved area varies. From the map on Stephens Crawford (1990) 5 fig. 3, one can see that, at the eastern end of the Baths-Gymnasium complex, the roadway (measuring from the back walls) is ca. 26 m wide, with the southern portico varying from ca. 6 m to 8 m in width. The northern portico is far more consistent, being about 6 m in width from the back wall to the roadside of the stylobate. This gives a roadway of around 12–14 m. However, the street plan and section produced in Stephens Crawford (1990) fig. 6, drawn further west along the street, are also significant, as they show a surviving ‘sidewalk’ of stone slabs (many different shapes and sizes, poorly fitting, no obvious attempts to cut to fit, suggesting reuse) on the southern side, in front of the southern portico, whilst revealing a gap in the paving on the north side of the road, where run water pipes (cannot clarify what material), which might have coincided with the northern sidewalk [preliminary reports above call the portico ‘the sidewalk’, but Crawford seems to have avoided this confusion, and indeed the sidewalks and porticoes are of very different widths, which helps in their identification]. If we take the north and south side of the street here as having been symmetrical, we are looking at an overall street width of 31 m from the back wall of each portico, with 7 m for each portico (to the roadside of the stylobate), 3 m for each sidewalk, and 11 m for the roadway. I have used the second set of measurements to compare different streets, and have not used those provided in Stephens Crawford (1990) 111. Of paving, the road is paved in reused but not re-cut stone slabs, of mixed colours, some of which are of odd illfitting shapes, with no sign of cutting to fit, visible to me: L. Lavan site observations 2003 and 2005, with Stephens Crawford (1990) fig. 6. Of architectural details, the northern colonnade, from its proportions and architectural unity, seems likely to be a coherent construction with the shops it fronts, and

itself also contains much spolia, with pedestals of different heights making up for columns being of different heights and widths. Four Ionic and one Corinthian capitals are present in the restored colonnade, whilst bases are either Ionic (of different sizes) or rough quarry-ready types: L. Lavan site observation 2005. There were apparently at least two types of Ionic capital found: Hanfmann (1962) 40. Of the reconstruction, two smaller shafts with Chi-Rho monograms were found fallen in the spot where they are now erected. The capitals were arbitrary: Stephens Crawford (1990) 5. The height of the reconstructed colonnade can be estimated at 3 m, with the largest complete columns being between 2.7 m and 2.98 m: L. Lavan site observation 2003; Stephens Crawford (1990) 4, 104–105 (with references to preliminary reports), with fig. 7 showing the colonnade as excavated, with the combination of pedestals and columns clearly part of the recorded archaeology, with fig. 8 showing the restoration. The reports concerning the south side of the road do not clarify if reused blocks were used as architectural elements in the portico, though it reports large marble columns of 2.4 m to 2.6 m, on a stylobate composed of an irregular line of marble blocks: Greenewalt et al. (1995) 5. Some small pedestals (“0.6 m” in ?height) were found supporting the eastern part of the colonnade: Greenewalt (1993) 4. Of shops, see appendix Y4 for the 34 cellular units excavated on the north side of the street. Of the portico floors, the north side of the street has produced a floor of bichrome (white and blue-black) geometric mosaic carpets (at least 4 different patterns) which survive in small fragmentary patches in three different places: see appendix Y5, with Stephens Crawford (1990) 5–6 with figs. 24–26. The border is not of a common design, although it is of a similar style. The motifs used include vine scroll, ivy leaves, coil around bar, double guilloche, lozenges, hexagons, octagons and circles with dots in the centres. Unspecified coins found in the bedding of the mosaic apparently date it to the 5th c. AD: p. 5 with n. 29. On the south side of the street, a double-naved portico was revealed, in which the northernmost and roadfacing nave has produced two levels of geometric mosaic floors, the lower being bi-chrome and divided into separate panels, the upper being polychrome, also divided into separate panels; the latter mosaic seems to have extended (from the reports) into the inner portico: Greenewalt et al. (1993) 4–6. It is best described by Greenewalt et al. (1995) 5 fig. 5, where there is a summary: “two trapezoidal panels [each of roughly ca. 5 m by 7 m] of polychrome mosaic … [the eastern:] a lost central zone surrounded by a modified key-meander border with patches of ivy scrolls and joined circles … [the western:] a looped guilloche border surrounding a central zone with interlocked octagons made up of hexagons, with a mosaic inscription”: pp. 5–6.

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters There is thus no common border to the different panels. The mortar bedding of the lower mosaic produced coins of the 4th and beginning of the 5th c. AD, whilst that of the upper produced coins and pottery from its bedding “reinforcing a sixth century date for its installation”: Greenwalt et al. (1994) 5–7; Greenwalt et al. (1995) 5–6. The plan of p. 5 fig. 5 also shows a further carpet on the western side of the trench, apparently without a border, which I did not find comments on, though it is apparently similar to the mosaics of the N. side of the street: pp. 4–5. A mosaic inscription in the lower mosaic records that the colonnaded street was “paved with mosaic and received all the decoration when Flavius Archelaos, count of the first rank, held the office of prefect”. Interestingly, a Flavius Domitius Archelaos was a governor in Egypt sometime in the second half of the 4th c.: H.-A. Rupprecht and J. Hengstl, Sammelbuch griechischer Urkunden aus Ägypten, Zweiundzwanzigster Band (Nr. 15203–15874) (Wiesbaden 2001) 22 no. 15348 (not seen) with text and further references on http://www.trismegistos.org/ref/detail.php?ref_id=519051 (last accessed December 2014). The inscription seems to imply that the first mosaic was perhaps not part of the initial construction of the colonnaded street (enbolos) (sic), but does at least suggest that the different mosaic carpets of this layer were laid at the same time. The upper mosaic is of a scale pattern: Greenewalt et al. (1993) 4. Of dating, the attribution of the structures on the north side of the road to Late Antiquity mainly depends upon the use of spolia. The presence of coins of Zeno (AD 474–91) under the floor of one of the shops has been suggested by Harris as providing a possible TPQ, for at least part of the row, but in the absence of published sections this is not for me secure evidence for dating the whole row: Harris (2004) 86, drawing on Stephens Crawford (1990). This is the same detail as the pit dug under shops E14–E16 mentioned by Magness, who also records a coin of Justin I or Justinian, but noting that no details of stratigraphy are available from this excavation: J. Magness, “The date of the Sardis Synagogue in light of the numismatic evidence”, AJA 109.3 (2005) (443–75) 465. On the southern side, there are other indicators apart from the mosaic inscription cited above. An excavation beneath the southern portico (i.e. its regular street-side south portico, not the second internal portico, beyond it to the south) revealed demolished features with layers of packed fill which “suggest a fourth-century date” plus a deposit in a latrine which included pottery and coins of the late 4th c. This detail, which was from carefully recorded layers unlike the coins from the north side, suggests to the excavators that the street was established here in the early 5th c. The mortar bedding of the first mosaic produced coins of the 4th and beginning of the 5th c.: Greenewalt et al. (1994) 5–7.

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Overall, I take the unspecified pottery and coins from the latter features as providing a contextual date for the construction of the street in the 25 years following 400 (i.e. the ‘beginning of the 5th c.’). This takes the coins from the mosaics as being related to the same event as the construction levels below, which seems fair as they are deposits that are structurally complimentary and close in time. I prefer to use this, rather than the inscription, as the individual is not precisely placed in time, and does not potentially contradict this dating. Dating summary (primary construction): range 400– 425, midpoint 412.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics) class Cs8 (contextual coins), publication 2/3. Dating summary (secondary mosaic on south side): range 500–600, midpoint 550, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs8 (contextual coins), publication 2/3. 13ASI Sardis (north-east / south-west colonnaded street south of Gymnasium Street, in sector MMS / S): This street is described in C.H. Greenewalt Jr., D.G. Sullivan, C. Ratté and T.N. Howe, “The Sardis campaigns of 1981 and 1982”, in Preliminary Reports of ASOR-Sponsored Excavations 1981–83 (BASOR Supplementary Studies 23) (Baltimore 1985) (53–92) 76; C.H. Greenewalt Jr., N.D. Cahill and M.L. Rautman, “The Sardis campaign of 1984”, in Preliminary Reports of ASOR-Sponsored Excavations 1982–85 (BASOR Supplementary Studies 25) (Baltimore, Maryland 1988) (13–54) 17–20; M.L. Rautman, “The Sardis campaigns of 1988 and 1989”, AASOR 51 (1993) (1–44) 11–14; C.H. Greenewalt, C. Ratté and M.L. Rautman, “The Sardis campaigns of 1990 and 1991”, AASOR 52 (1994) (1–35) 10–13; C.H. Greenwalt, C. Ratté and M.L. Rautman, “The Sardis campaigns of 1992 and 1993”, AASOR 53 (1995) (1–36) 6–8; C.H. Greenewalt Jr. and M.L. Rautman “The Sardis Campaigns of 1994 and 1995”, AJA 102.3 (1998) 469–505. Of dimensions, the north portico was ca. 5 m wide, and the south portico was ca. 4 m wide, with a roadway of ca. 9 m, giving an overall width for the road from the portico back walls of ca. 18 m, measuring off the plan of Greenewalt et al. (1995) 4, fig. 4, which is a good summary of the final understanding of the excavators. Of the architectural features, the colonnade seems on both sides of the road to consist of a mixture of piers and columns, the variation of which the excavators would like to reconstruct as symmetrical for each side of the road (Greenewalt et al. (1994) 4, fig. 3). However, the area excavated so far does not permit such symmetry to be asserted, as an insufficient length of the porticoes has been exposed. It may be that the colonnade had an irregular use of pedestals supporting short columns and columns without pedestals, as at the street by the Gymnasium, referred to above. The south portico had a colonnade of slender monolithic shafts and Ionic bases left in a quarry finished

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state. The north portico colonnade seems to have been made up of reused bases of “dissimilar design and size” (Greenewalt et al. (1985) 76) and column drums of irregular width (Greenewalt et al. (1995) 12). Burrell (infra 2008) 160 notes columns sizes of 2 m on the southern side and one of 2.6 m on the northern side. It has been suggested that the north colonnade was arcaded, due to the quantity of brick work found encumbering the portico: Greenewalt et al. (1987) 18. The north portico also included reused blocks in its stylobate and back wall. It had packed earth floors. I would suggest from my viewing of the site, without a scale, that the total colonnade height of the north side was ca. 3 m, counting its Ionic capitals and Attic bases: L. Lavan site observation 2005. Of paving, the road surface was of beaten earth (see below). Of shops, the units on the north side of the street were never completed: Greenewalt et al. (1995) 7 with fig. 6 or (1998) 479 fig. 6 (clearest), with the first showing doorway and opening which would have served them. Fragmentary walls on this plan suggest a shop width for one unit of ca. 5.5 m wide internally, hand-measuring off the plan. Of phasing and dating, we have at least three major phases: (i) The primary phase of construction, of which foundation layers of the street included coins of Valens (AD 366– 78) and Arcadius or Honorius (AD 395–408): Greenwalt et al. (1995) 6–8. A coin of Arcadius (395–408) came from the primary packing of the ‘sidewalk’ (portico floor), providing a TPQ of the early 5th c.: Greenewalt et al. (1988) 20. I take this last coin, alongside the other coins from the street foundation layers, as providing a contextual date of the 25 years after 395 for the street. (ii) Secondary repairs, of which an early report mentions rough repairs to the road surface, which was of beaten earth, as seen by fragmentary traces of mortared or plastered floors: Greenewalt et al. (1987) 18–19, with Burrell (infra 2008) 162 clarifying that such beaten earth, mortar and plaster floors are also seen in the southern portico. There was also a repair to the northern “sidewalk” floor (i.e. portico floor): Greenewalt et al. (1988) 20. A coin of Zeno (AD 476–91) in a secondary stratum led excavators to suggest a possible resurfacing of the portico (originally packed earth) in the later 5th c, perhaps associated with a rebuild of the northern portico colonnade [though no structural observations are presented regarding the colonnade to support this]: Greenewalt et al. (1988) 20. This coin provides a TPQ of 476 for the resurfacing, which must have happened before the next phase, which has a date based on associative finds of the 6th c., extending to 611. (iii) A final phase is of encroachment: (a) in the portico, where there was cooking activity, which is dated to

the 6th c. by coins and unspecified African Red Slip: no further details are given; (b) on the street, where dump layers, apparently of the late 6th c. to early 7th c., also accumulate: Greenewalt et al. (1995) 7. The coins of these dumps are studied in B. Burrell, “Small bronze hoards at late fifth century C.E. Sardis”, in Love for Lydia: a Sardis Anniversary Volume Presented to Crawford H. Greenewalt, Jr., ed. N.D. Cahill (Cambridge, Mass. 2008) (159–69) 160– 63, with a good plan on 161 fig. 1 and a reconstruction drawing of the street on 162 fig. 2. I thank Marcus Rautman for this last reference. These dump layers (which included much domestic rubbish), included some layers from the south portico, of which 5 coins were before the late 3rd c., 5 of the late 3rd c., 23 of the 4th c., 8 of the 5th, 10 examples of 4th–5th c. minimi, 14 of the 6th, and 2 of the 7th, with 18 unidentifiable. The last coin was a half-follis of year one of Heraclius (so AD 610/11). A coin hoard from the portico is described by C.H. Greenewalt Jr. (1990) “The Sardis campaign of 1987”, in Preliminary Reports of ASOR-Sponsored Excavations 1982–89 (BASOR Supplementary Studies 27) (Baltimore, Maryland 1991) (1–28) 9, coming from the Late Roman dumps, associated with textile pseudo morphs which suggested this discrete group of coins represented a purse. This was a hoard of 695 coins, mainly of 5th c. issues, the latest of which are third quarter of the 5th c., of Anastasius from AD 491–98 and Vandal king Thrasamund AD 496–523: for details see Burrell (2008) 160–162, with map on p. 161 fig. 1, showing that it came from the portico. It is hard to give a proper date for this phase from the information provided. These deposits look like primary rubbish deposits, which have been dumped here over a period of time, rather than as one event, perhaps to level up the road, or perhaps because the area was now in decay. Overall, it is difficult to provide a proper contextual date for the beginning of encroachment on the present state of publication. Rather we have to date the whole encroachment associatively based on the chronological range of the finds. Of these, the ARS seems to provide the best indication of the encroachment period in associative terms, whereas the coins include older issues, some of which might have been lost on the street from normal use prior to abandonment. The range of the coins does however allow us to extend our associative date to a few years beyond the end of the ‘6th c.’ ceramics, as there are issues of Heraclius (ending in 610/11) but not the relatively common coins of his successor Constans II (641–68). Thus, I take the beginning of abandonment as occurring in the period 500–611. On other matters, Burrell (2008) presents a number of theories about the street, which are stimulating but contestable. (i) Firstly (p. 160), she notes that the only pier on the north portico of the street (which does seem to align with one of two on the south portico) occurs where there

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters is a break in the rear wall of the portico, where she states part of an arch springing was found. This she interprets as representing an arch built across the portico, and her reconstruction drawing adds further such arches for other parts, where no structural remains suggest this. She wishes to see the portico divided into sections by such arches to ease roofing along a steep gradient of 5–7 %. Whilst such an arrangement is possible, it would be without precedent in the late antique world, and it does represent an optimistic reading of the evidence. Perhaps just a single arch was required to cope with the change in the back wall, not a wider system. (ii) Secondly (pp. 160–62), and more controversially, she sees this colonnaded street as a finished ‘residential street’ of a lower grade to the east-west colonnaded street to its north, noting that the road and portico surfaces might be appropriate to this level of occupation. This seems to be a very difficult theory to credit because in my experience residential streets without monumental buildings are universally not colonnaded on both sides, even when they have a major domus along them. The original interpretation that this is an incomplete colonnaded street seems to be most reasonable, later occupied at a more modest level than originally intended. (iii) Thirdly, Burrell (p. 162) refers to “shabby cross-walls of domestic structures” that “began to obstruct the porticoes in the sixth century”, providing a reference to Greenewalt et al. (1995) 7, and various general works. But no reference to such cross walls is found in the Greenwalt report cited, and it may be that she is referring to the general works about streets elsewhere in Late Antiquity, and not features actually observed on site at Sardis. Dating summary (for construction of the street): range 395–420, midpoint 407.5, class Cs8 (contextual coins), publication 3/3. Dating summary (for resurfacing of portico, and possibly of roadway surfaces): range 476–611, midpoint 543.5, class Cs7 (TPQ coin), Cs3 (associative finds), publication 2/3. Dating summary (encroachment of portico): range 500–611, midpoint 555, class Cs3 (associative finds), publication 2/3. 13ASI Ephesus (Arcadiane): This great colonnaded street, linking the harbour and the theatre square, has only been the subject of preliminary studies, with no accurate sections existing of colonnades, or walls, and few accurate plans, being published: see P. Schneider (1999) “Bauphasen der Arkadiane”, in 100 Jahre österreichische Forschungen in Ephesos: Akten des Symposions Wien 1995, edd. H. Friesinger and F. Krinzinger (DenkschrWien 260. AF 1) (Vienna 1999) 467–78. An inscription from a marble socle found in the eastern half of the south portico, describes the installation of lamps on the street, which it names as the ‘Arcadiane’, though the street is much older than the time

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of Arcadius (395–408), when it may have been rebuilt. For the inscription (IvE 2.557) see: D. Feissel, “Öffentliche Strassenbeleuchtung im spätantiken Ephesos”, in Steine und Weg: Festschrift für Dieter Knibbe zum 65. Geburtstag, edd. P. Scherrer, H. Taeuber, and H. Thür (Vienna 1999) 25–29. Of dimensions, some measurements for this quite regular street are recorded at the mid-point in a plan published by W. Wilberg, “Der Viersaulenbau auf der Arkadianestraße”, in Forschungen in Ephesos 1, ed. O. Benndorf (Vienna 1906) (132–42) 134, fig. 61. He notes a road width from the rear walls of the porticoes of 21.37 m, with a north portico measurement of 4.97 m, a roadway measurement of 11.4 m, and a south portico measurement of 5 m. The measurements for the porticoes are taken from the back wall to the roadway edge. A scale published on the plan does not seem to fit the measurements very exactly. However, further along the Arcadiane, at the Baths of Constantius, similar measurements are recorded of 11.6 m for the roadway and 5 m for each of the porticoes: R. Heberdey, “Vorläufiger Bericht über die Ausgrabungen in Ephesos IV”, ÖJh 4 (1902) (Beiblatt 53–66) 60 fig. 15. Of architectural features, the height of the colonnade was originally 4.77 m, with columns of 3.5 m, pedestals of 0.48 m, capitals of 0.52 m to 0.53 m and bases of ca. 26.5 cm: Schneider (1999) 473. These measurements are of the colonnade before arcading, which probably added ca. 1.3 m in height, measuring off the plan provided by Schneider. I am not certain if this full height was maintained by late phases of the colonnade, made out of reused materials, though this is likely to be the case. I did note that there were no pedestals in the ‘original’ eastern end of the southern portico, only in the northern portico here, and in the southern portico a bit further west: L. Lavan site observations April 2013. In terms of the section of the southern portico that coincides with the ‘Byzantine’ city wall, I observed a chaotic mixture of column types and materials: some in granite, others in limestone, and at least one column which was fluted, with another that was Doric from halfway up, mixed with smooth columns. There was also an Ionic impost capital and an Ionic capital, alongside pieces more likely related to the earlier phases of the street, with Corinthian capitals, and the use of pedestals without integrated column bases, alongside those that did have them. A mixture of columns of various material (yellow and white limestone / marble) and of different widths is also visible in one short section of the northern portico, west of the tetrastylon: L. Lavan site observation July 2005. Of shops, a great number of doorways, set into walls made of courses of brick or rubble and reused stone, are visible along the street. I would guess that there were about 90 shops, perhaps a bit less, on each side of the street, although no plan of them exists, to my knowledge. Only

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around 10 shops have been excavated, along the north side at the eastern end, to my knowledge, though I have not been able to obtain a plan of them. The rear wall shows no obvious reuse; only rubble / quarry-ready block construction, whilst the lateral walls are of alternating courses of brick and rubble / reused stone. The visible ruins here appear to show a series of one-room cellular units (though the ruins do not exclude that there may have been some doubles). Three square niches set in the rear wall, a little off the floor (for cupboards, one with a shelf groove) are visible, as is one arched niche which extends all the way to the floor. The floors seem to vary. Reused stone slabs are visible in two shops definitely, and two shops possibly. Gravel is present in other shops. Plaster is visible on the rear wall and reused marble tiles as a floor in one place. A round stone ‘man hole’ is set into one floor, next to a large stone ?mortarium. Foundations for a staircase are visible in one room. I was not able to measure dimensions, though I do think from my photos that the internal measurements were likely to be ca. 4 m by 4 m: L. Lavan site observation April 2013. Of decoration, the porticoes have a three-coloured mosaic of simple geometric ornament [no more detail available], that seems to be present on both sides of the road: R. Heberdey, “Vorläufiger Bericht über die Ausgrabungen in Ephesos IV”, ÖJh 3 (1900) (Beiblatt 83–96) 90; Idem, “Vorläufiger Bericht über die Ausgrabungen in Ephesos V”, ÖJh 4 (1902) (Beiblatt 53–66) 53 (with most detail). For overall context, see P. Schneider, “Bauphasen der Arkadiane”, in 100 Jahre österreichische Forschungen in Ephesos: Akten des Symposions Wien 1995, edd. H. Friesinger and F. Krinzinger (DenkschrWien 260. AF 1) (Vienna 1999) 467–80. Such a mosaic would be comparable to 5th–6th c. mosaics in porticoes of colonnaded streets at Perge and Side. The fact that it was apparently present on both sides rather than only on the area by the city wall, suggests (see below) that it does not belong to the last later 6th c. phase of the street, but sometime before, perhaps from the time of Arcadius or Justinian. Of phasing, the history of the street is complex, with early and late imperial elements. At present, we only have a suggested architectural phasing published by scholars, of what is a very large monument. Schneider (1999) esp. 474– 75, describes the phasing of the colonnades, according to a basic architectural analysis. He sees three phases: one early 2nd c., the second 3rd c. (when Corinthian capitals were introduced alternating with the original composite capitals, supporting arcades), and a third late antique phase (on account of the use of much reused material in the colonnades). I myself could see that the street paving and an arch on the steps at the eastern end of the street obviously dated from the Early Imperial period, due to the high quality of their masonry, with no reuse. It seemed likely that

most parts of the colonnades dated from before the mid 3rd c. too, as indicated by their uniform white attic bases and grey marble. S. would like to associate the phase of late antique rebuilding with the inscription naming the street as the ‘Arcadiane’, thus indicating a restoration of Arcadius (395–408). He also suggests there might be an even later rebuilding of the street with spolia at the time of the insertion of the 4-column monument (mid 6th c.), or the city wall (thought to be 6th or early 7th c.). However, there is no archaeological evidence provided by Schneider to connect the spolia-built parts to an Aracadian dating for the late antique rebuild, or the association of any specific part of the colonnades with an ‘Arcadian’ rebuilding. All we have is the name of the street, plus two Latin statue base inscriptions from the eastern end of the street which are dedicated to Honorius, and probably (the name is lost) Arcadius (see appendix H7). As will be clear from the following observations, I think that S.’s summary of the phasing is incomplete and incorrect for Late Antiquity. Rather, I note; (i) a rebuilding of the shops, and thus the portico roof, that might date to the time of Arcadius (though I would prefer to date it to the earlier 6th c.), (ii) some disturbance when the tetrastylon was built in the mid 6th c. and the paving around it was replaced, (iii) a rebuilding of part of two porticoes in the later 6th c., at the time when the ‘Byzantine’ city wall was constructed. I was able to make the following additional observations, from L. Lavan site observations July 2005 and April 2013. The back wall of each portico, punctured by shop façades, include a lot of reused material, along with courses of brick, suggesting that they were systematically rebuilt in Late Antiquity. However, the portico colonnades, as they are currently erected, are partly without reused materials, partly with them. In the eastern section of the street, for around 200 m, the architectural elements of the colonnade contain no reused material on either side, with the exception of one isolated column, too small for its base, which was probably re-erected here by modern restorers by mistake. There is also very little reuse on the prevailing situation on the western side of the tetrastylon, as the street disappears into the undergrowth of the harbour. The main area of reuse in the colonnades falls in two sections. The first is just west of the tetrastylon, on the north side of the road where a small section has mixed spolia elements making up the colonnade. The second area is on the south portico adjacent and close to the part of the shops where a long section has been replaced by the 6th / early 7th c. ‘Byzantine’ city wall, and a different type of shop build. The obvious inference of these observations is that there were at least two major phases of renovation within Late Antiquity. (i) The first phase involved the rebuilding of the shops right along this street, along with the portico roof which the shops supported, but with no changes to the

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters colonnade itself. (ii) The second phase involved the rough rebuilding of a small part of the southern portico colonnade at the same time as the late city wall was completed. This new city wall obliterated some of the shops, but care was taken to rebuild the colonnade as far as possible where it fronted the fortification. Indeed, it seemed to me that there is at least one small hole in the fortification that corresponds in height to the hypothetical beams for the portico roof. (iii) Three other areas of late antique works exist which cannot be directly tied to either of these phases. (a) The first is a short section of the northern colonnade which is rebuilt in spolia, and which is probably of a similar date to the rebuilt section of the southern colonnade, as it too is of mixed, badly sorted, reused materials. (b) The second is in the paving, where an area of reuse is visible around the mid 6th c. tetrastylon. Here there have been some rough attempts to make slabs fit, perhaps by cutting angles, perhaps by sorting the stones to fit. (c) The third is, a ramp, perhaps around 3.5 m wide, incorporating reused material, which has been added to the eastern end of the street, to allow wheeled access over Early Imperial steps leading down into the avenue from the theatre square. It is important to note that the monumental arch closing the eastern end of the street must have been partially removed before this ramp was installed, as the ramp sends traffic through the spot where the inner southern pier should be. To this we can add the lamp inscription, which indicates investment of some kind, if only in fixtures not architecture. Of dating, it is hardest to date the first late antique phase, the rebuilding of the shops. The two imperial statue bases (of Honorius Augustus and probably Arcadius) from the eastern end of the Arcadiane suggest some building activity on the street might date from the time when they were joint rulers without Theodosius (395–408). However, we must be cautious in using the street-lamp inscription naming the ‘Arcadiane’ as evidence to support the installation of oil-lamps in the time of Arcadius. This text is in Greek rather than in Latin, whilst the imperial statues bases use the latter. Feissel (1999) 25–29 states that he knows of no reason why the lamp inscription should be later than the time of Arcadius. Obviously, it cannot be earlier, given the name of the street, but there is nothing in the lamp inscription which ties it to the reign of Arcadius, and the use of Greek suggests it was not inscribed at the same time as the imperial bases. The only thing that can date the lamp inscription is the cross at the beginning of the text. This motif appears in honorific inscriptions in this position from the first decade of the 5th c: see dating foreword. One might note that the cross does not have splayed ends, and thus is likely to date from the first half of the 5th c., based on parallels with decoration in artefacts, although a simple cross need not require any ornament: see the dating foreword. Thus, it does seem reasonable to date the decision

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to provide lamps to the first half of the 5th c. However, the decision to provide oil lamps to the street might well have been somewhat later than the time of Arcadius. Unfortunately, we do not know which, if any, of the archaeologically-observed structural features of the street date from the time of Arcadius, and which might have coincided with the renaming of the street in his honour. Yet, in the absence of evidence to the contrary, it seems reasonable to date the primary rebuilding of the shops right along the street, along with their portico roofs, to the time when Arcadius was Augustus of the East, after the death of Theodosius (so 395–408). Given that the mosaics are not (as far as we are told) confined to one area, it is likely that they also belong with the construction of the shops along the full street. The shops incorporate reused material within their walls, and show similarities to other late masonry with tile coursing at Ephesus, of both 5th and 6th c. date. This ‘Arcadian’ dating is only provisional and not confirmed archaeologically. The second major late antique phase, the partial rebuilding of the colonnades, can be dated more rigorously, due to its close spatial relationship with the Byzantine city wall, with which it appears to be contemporaneous. So far, the city wall can only be dated with reference to two gates in its length, close to the Theatre Square. (i) The first gate, which comes into Theatre Square from the tetragonal agora, serves a long walled passage which exits into the tetragonal agora within the framework of the 6th c. northern portico rebuild. Therefore, it is likely contemporary with the portico rebuild and the major levelling works to raise up the ‘police station area’ to the west of the passage and north of the agora. Indeed, the gate passage’s west wall retains earth from this late raised area on its eastern side (see appendix S4 and P. Scherrer “The stratigraphy of the tetragonos agora”, in T. Bezeczky, The Amphorae of Roman Ephesus (Forschungen in Ephesos 15/1) (Vienna 2013) (5–17) 14. The agora work appears, from various dating indicators, to date to shortly after 550. (ii) The second gate in the city wall is set at the top of the Marble Street. It is inscribed with part of a set of acclamations found all along the Marble Street and Lower Embolos, honouring the families of Phocas, Heraclius and the factions. Of these, the text on the gate honours the Christian emperors and the Greens, the faction which favoured Phocas. These unusual inscriptions seem to represent a coherent set of acclamations decorating the Marble Street, which were inaugurated in the time of Phocas, with modifications under Heraclius. Thus, the second gate, where the set of acclamations begins, should have been built during or prior to the reign of Phocas (AD 602–10). The inscription on the second gate thus provides a TAQ for the city wall. In contrast, the 6th c. retaining walls associated with the first gate provide an absolute date for

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the wall, even if this is not more than a provisional one, through its connection to the later 6th c. phase of the tetragonal agora. As noted above, the rebuild of the southern portico and the obliteration of some of its shops occurred when the late city wall was built. Thus, the second major late antique phase of the street should date from ca. 550 or after, being no later than AD 610. One might also note that the quality of the Justinianic tetrastylon of 525–75, and even the reused paving around it, contrast strongly with the city wall and its messy restored portico, perhaps suggesting a date for phase 2 in the later 6th c., probably a few decades after 550 (see appendix F2, with date based on architectural style, such as the comparison of its capitals to San Vitale in Ravenna and a church in Parenzo (Poreč)). For the acclamatory inscriptions, see C. Roueché, “Looking for late antique ceremonial: Ephesos and Aphrodisias”, in 100 Jahre Österreichische Forschungen in Ephesos. Akten des Symposions Wien 1995, edd. H. Friesinger and F. Krinzinger (DenkschrWien 260. AF 1) (Vienna 1999) (161–68) with 164 no. 1.1 = IvE 6.2090. This means that I am proposing an earlier dating for the wall than has been suggested by most scholars. For example: (i) Scherrer thinks that the city wall dates to the ‘7th c.’, due to the lack of coin finds in the city south of the fortification (of later than the second decade, or at the latest fourth decade, of the 7th c.), perhaps after the earthquake of AD 616 [not in Guidoboni Catalogo or Ambraseys Catalogue]: P. Scherrer, “Die Agora: Vorläufiger Baugeschichte”, in Forschungen in Ephesos XIII.2 Die Tetragonos Agora in Ephesos, P. Scherrer and E. Trinkl (Vienna 2006) (49–54) 54 with n. 254 (for reports, and references to unpublished paper by H. Hellenkemper). (ii) Heberdey had also dated the fortification to the same time period as he regarded the presence of the acclamatory inscriptions of Phocas and Heraclius on the Marble Street south of the wall as implying that an unwalled classical city still functioned at that time [apparently he did not notice that the inscription on the gate was part of the same series]: R. Heberdey, “VIII Vorläufiger Bericht über die Grabungen in Ephesus 1905–06”, ÖJh 10 (1907) (62–78) 73. However, I think that the relationship of fortification wall to the Arcadiane repairs and to the tetragonal agora suggests that it was part of the final phase of the late antique city. Thus, the new wall coexisted with the monumental repair and occupation of the Arcadiane, in the late 6th c. However, the wall was likely a little earlier than the inscriptions inscribed on the gate (probably written in AD 601–10), as these acclamations ignore the Arcadiane which the wall sought to protect, privileging a north-south street route through the city. I would favour a date of around 580, based on the balance of evidence, although 570–590 might be more realistic. Nevertheless, here I keep a wider range of 550–610.

Of use, there are no wheel ruts on the street, despite much late graffiti and gameboards, suggesting that the street was normally pedestrianised, until the end of Antiquity. ‘Tethering holes’ are visible cut into columns along the street (in at least 4 cases), set about 2 m from the paving. Two are cut into an original column; two are cut on columns that have been reused: L. Lavan site observations 2005. There are 2 crosses with splayed ends inscribed on a column near east end of street (north side), 1 without splayed ends on a column towards the tetrastylon (on east side of it, on north side of street), 17 star-in-circle gameboards, 4 web gameboards, 1 3 by 11? gameboard, 1 incomplete large circle, and 4 square 2 by 2 gameboards. Dating summary (street lamps, not otherwise treated a separate building work in this catalogue): range 400– ca. 450, midpoint 425, class Cs1 (artistic style), publication 3/3. Dating summary: (late phase 1 rebuild of shops, mosaic? and portico with it): range 395?–408?, midpoint 401.5, class Cs6 (absolute inscriptions), Cs4 (reused material), Cs3 (associative, phase of development across site), publication 3/3. Poor. Dating summary: (late phase 2 rebuild of south portico by city wall): range 550–610, midpoint 580, class Cs3 (associative, phase of development across site), Cs6 (TAQ inscription), Cs5 (catch-all masonry, spolia use), publication 3/3. 13ASI Ephesus (street north of Theatre Square (Plateia in Coressus)): This street leads north from the city centre, and has only been partially uncovered, and not reported in any detail. I have not been able to obtain a plan of this street, or reports, if any exists. For summaries see: C. Foss, Ephesus after Antiquity. A Late Antique, Byzantine and Turkish City (Cambridge 1979) 54 (with a note on the eastern colonnade), with F. Eichler “Die österreichischen Ausgrabungen in Ephesos im Jahre 1963”, AnzWien 103 (1966) (7–16) 8 (which notes only that it is 3.5 m wide and employs reused columns); P. Scherrer, Ephesus: the New Guide (Selçuk 2000) 164; D. Knibbe, “Der Asiarch M. Fulvius Publicanus Nikephoros, die ephesischen Handwerkszunfte und die Stoa der Servilius”, ÖJh (1985) (71–77) which notes on 71 n. 1 that the excavation has been carried out by the Selçuk Museum, at least in 1981. Of dimensions, Scherrer (2000) 164, states the measurements to be: roadway (given as ‘street’) 7.7 m, with the east portico 4.1 m, and west portico 3.7 m, giving a total road width from the portico rear walls of 15.5 m. Of architectural features, I was able to make extensive observations on site. All the material here seems to be reused, and reused columns, bases and pedestals can be found in the colonnades on both sides of the road, with some impost blocks. The shops on the eastern side (exposed

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters for a considerable distance) are late antique in date, with reused building materials visible throughout their walls. They have been neither excavated nor planned, though I estimate from memory that there may be as many as 30 units. Those on the south side (exposed for only a couple of doorways) are also full of reused materials, and so likely late antique. Traces of plaster survive on the eastern portico’s back wall. The columns re-erected on the porticoes seem to be around 3.5 m from my rough umbrella measurements. They are mostly Ionic granite columns, mixed in with some limestone Doric columns and some Ionic columns of various limestone colours. They are supported on Ionic bases, except where an impost capital has been used (by mistake by the restorers?) as a base. At the south end of the street, pedestals are used to support columns, in one isolated case because the column was too small, in others (where there is a group of 6 or more) perhaps because they were part of a public building façade. In one section of the western portico, next to the ‘Byzantine Palace’, there is a single course of large blocks laid over the columns, to connect them, as if a boundary was being set for the portico, in the manner of the ?6th c. porticoes seen on the Upper Embolos. A partially-painted column was seen in this area, whitewashed with a red cross: L. Lavan site observation April 2014. I am grateful to Sabine Ladstätter for permission to mention this. For a reconstruction drawing with arcades on impost capitals see: Knibbe (1985) 74, fig. 3. The paving is also composed of reused material, especially in the southern half of the street, including some columns, split and used without re-cutting, which produces a very irregular road surface. There is also some original paving, especially around the encroaching street fountain (see section on nymphaea), towards the northern end. Of dating, I know of no strong criteria other than the copious use of reused material (giving a date between the mid 3rd c. and the disruptive Persian invasions of 614), although I feel from studying this elsewhere in Ephesus that a date in the second half of the 6th c. is most likely, at least towards the south end of the street, where such reuse is roughest. Similar roughly-reused split columns and poorly-sorted, unlevelled reused slabs (sometimes with undisguised and uncomfortable first-use cuttings visible), can be seen at the point where the Marble Street is cut by the Late Fortification wall: L. Lavan site observations 2013. The east portico of the Upper Embolos, which seems to date from 576–601 (see below) is similarly haphazard. The Late Fortification I date to between 550 and 610, based on phase of development and an epigraphic TPQ (see above). It seems that the rough columns here were used to patch the road, where the insertion of the fortification had damaged it, and to reinforce that bit of road leading up to it, perhaps covering an associated modification of sewers beneath the road.

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Overall, I take the work on this street to date from the same time as the Upper Embolos porticoes, based on the sorting and degree of disguise of the reused material, although the date of the city wall does provide a broader, if associative date, based on phase of development. The possibility remains that the shops were built before the street was repaved and colonnaded, and that they date sometime earlier in Late Antiquity. Of use, tethering holes are visible cut into two Doric columns. There are 2 star-in-circle gameboards in the paving, and at least one wide wheel rut on what looks like earlier slabs, without signs of reuse: L. Lavan site observation July 2005 and April 2013. Dating summary: range 576?–601?, midpoint 588.5, class Cs5 (catch-all masonry, reused material), z (site development), publication 3/3 (on site observations). 13ASI Ephesus (Marble Street) (2 rebuildings): This is a single-sided colonnaded street, which leads south of the theatre, east of the tetragonal agora, on which very little is published: C. Foss, Ephesus after Antiquity. A Late Antique, Byzantine and Turkish City (Cambridge 1979) 63. Of dimensions, the sidewalk measures ca. 1.15 m wide on the east side and ca. 1 m on the west side (‘my umbrella on photo’ measurement). The roadway itself is ca. 7 m across. The east portico is ca. 4 m wide and paved in reused marble slabs: L. Lavan site observation April 2013. These rough measurements were taken about halfway down the street. Of architectural features, the presence of numerous impost blocks, especially in the southern part of the portico, suggests that the colonnade was arcaded. The grey marble columns of the southern part of the portico seem to me to be between 3.5 m and 4 m in height. There are mixed capital types, including Ionic, some antique Corinthian and other types of Corinthian capital: L. Lavan site observations April 2013. Of phases, there appear to be at least three of late antique date, of which two concern us here. (i) In the first phase belongs the roadway, the sidewalk on both sides of the road, and the southern end of the eastern portico (there is no western portico). The roadway paving seems to be entirely of reused material of limestone and marbles, very well-laid in well-sorted rows of irregular width, though the route itself is earlier than Late Antiquity. A well-constructed sidewalk of the same reused material appears to be constructed flush with the edge of the road paving, and thus built in the same phase. There are sidewalks on both sides of the road which are heavily composed of reused elements, especially in the northern part, although some possibly older slabs are visible in the southern part on the eastern sidewalk, with some visible reuse also on the western sidewalk. There are many large rectangular limestone slabs, usually closely fitted, along

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the whole sidewalk, although the visible reused bits of the western sidewalk are not always well-fitted. The eastern portico is constructed on a well-laid stylobate of reused material about 15 cm above the sidewalk, and supports a homogenous colonnade of Attic bases and grey marble columns. Inside the portico, it is paved in what looks like sandstone slabs. I have some doubts about whether these are late antique or from an earlier state of the portico as I know the road paving of the Embolos, under the late road paving, is of a similar style, but I have seen it also in the east portico of the Upper Embolos which could imply it is late: L. Lavan site observations 2013. (ii) In the second phase belongs the shops behind the eastern portico and part of the eastern portico itself (its northern half). In this part of the portico, a mixed colonnade of reused columns, column bases and capitals stands on a raised stylobate of very mixed reused material, roughly laid, about 20–30 cm higher than the sidewalk. The stylobate appears in places to be placed on top of the sidewalk, rather than constructed with it, as it is at its southern end. There is no paving for the portico for this phase, except of earth and perhaps some loose brick. I observed that the shops of the eastern portico contained reused material employed in a ‘rubble and brick band’ construction, similar to those seen in 6th c. shops on the Upper Embolos, which also has poor porticoes, on a raised step with earth / poorly fitted spolia floors. There were around 10 doorways, if my memory serves well, though I did not count them. The shops have not been excavated, apart perhaps from the last unit on the southern end, which does not look particularly like a shop, although a vault niche ‘cupboard’ is visible in a back room. A staircase to a second level is visible at one point in the eastern portico: I think this is likely to have given access to an upper storey of the shops (which were set against a slope) rather than to a second storey portico, as no piers were present in the colonnade, only mismatched columns, which I doubt had the ability to support much weight: L. Lavan site observations April 2013. (iii) At some later point, the shop doorways were blocked by walls of similar construction to the shops themselves. (iv) At the northern end of the eastern sidewalk, there is a secondary extension, which reaches beyond the portico and continues this sidewalk, in front of a solid retaining wall without doorways, eventually reaching the back of the theatre. The construction is much rougher than the rest of the sidewalk, with reused stones only used to mark the kerb of the sidewalk, with retaining earth behind. An eroded part of this ‘sidewalk extension’ shows that it covers over a terracotta water pipe system that is higher than the road paving, and so must be a constituent part of the creation of this part of the sidewalk, being hidden just behind the kerb block. This sidewalk extension is slightly higher than

the normal eastern sidewalk and very likely belongs with phase 2 of the street: L. Lavan site observations April 2013. (v) N.B. A very late modifications to the paving of the Marble Street, at the point where it passes the city gate, leading north down to the Theatre Square, described above under the Plateia in coressus. Of dating, a suggested date for phase 1 of the work can be provided by a statue of the ?proconsul Eutropius, who ‘adorned his fatherland with marble streets’, which was located on the junction of the Marble Street and the Embolos (so the southern end of our street, where phase 1 of the portico survived). It has no dedicant, and is on a console block and so part of the portico probably (IvE 4.1304; LSA-611), which suggests the limited size of the console supported a bust, which they would like to connect to an under-sized head found nearby, hollowed out behind, and so likely from a bust (LSA-690; J. Inan and E. Rosenbaum, Roman and Early Byzantine Portrait Sculpture in Asia Minor (Oxford 1966) 151–53, no. 194, pl. 181.1–2). For the inscription οὕνεκα πάτρην / μαρμαρέαις κοσμήσας / ἐυστρώτοισιν ἀγυιαῖς I follow the translation of LSA-611 which is “you adorned your fatherland with twisting marble streets”, with ἀγυιαῖς being ‘streets’, though this is not a usual word to use in this context. Its setting on a console in the late portico makes the connection to the creation / renewal of the whole street likely, and the use of a cross at the start of the inscription suggests it dates after the first decade of the 5th c.: see dating foreword. Which phase of the portico it belongs to is unclear, but I would suggest the first phase, given its location near the southern end. For the inscriptions see also H. Grégoire, Recueil des inscriptions grecques chrétiennes d’Asie Mineure (Paris 1922) 99; IvE 4.1304; R. Heberdey, “Vorläufiger Bericht über die Grabungen in Ephesos 1905/06”, ÖJh 10 (1907) 71–73 (with details of the statue block size of 0.27 m by 0.18 m with indentation on the upper side for a statue on p. 72, see also appendix H7). However, given the strong similarity between the style of paving and portico columns used in phase 1, and those used on the Upper Embolos late phase 2, it is also likely that the two roads, set along the same route, were laid at the same time, which would be sometime in 410–36, based on the inscriptions associated with work at the latter site. Indeed, there seems to be no break in the paving height or style between the two roads, with no join visible. Thus, the road can be given the same date based on phase of development. It seems that we have one great renovated stretch of road, coming from the theatre to the Upper Agora via the Marble Street, the Embolos and the Clivus Sacer, with associated side roads. Although it might be tempting also to associate this work with the two statues to Honorius and ?Arcadius from the eastern end of the Arcadiane (see appendix H7), it is probably better to keep the latter separate,

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters as the route down the Arcadiane to the Harbour represents a different axis, which is not joined to the Marble Street by a common area of renovation. It is again possible that the shops were built in the first late antique phase, but the date of the Upper Embolos shops so far only supports a second phase date, if we are using them as the key parallel. Of dating, phase 2 is more difficult to date. Its close analogies to 3rd phase of the Upper Embolos suggests it is of the same date (AD 576–601). A TAQ for the second phase of the reign of Phocas (AD 602–10) can be established, as two acclamatory inscriptions are carved to this emperor on the columns of the portico: Heberdey (1907) 73, nos. 2–3 = IvE 4.1191a discussed by C. Roueché, “Looking for late antique ceremonial: Ephesos and Aphrodisias”, in 100 Jahre Österreichische Forschungen in Ephesos. Akten des Symposions Wien 1995, edd. H. Friesinger and F. Krinzinger (DenkschrWien 260. AF 1) (Vienna 1999) (161–68) 165 no. 4. Roueché misses Heberdey inscription no. 3. There are also Heraclian inscriptions here, as discussed in the articles cited, but they are not pertinent, except to the occupation chronology. Overall, the paving of the street and sidewalks, and perhaps an initial portico, was probably accomplished early in Late Antiquity, perhaps in the early 5th c., but then a rebuild took place sometime in the 6th c. when the portico was reset at a higher level and the shops were constructed. Of use, there are 2 star-in-circle gameboards on the west sidewalk on dark slabs perhaps not reused, 1 star in circle and 1 web gameboard on east sidewalk on dark slabs perhaps not reused, 1 tyche depiction with cross on crown and also one foot, both cut into west sidewalk, one set of wheel ruts towards the centre of the street: L. Lavan site observations 2005 and 2013. Dating summary (first phase of road paving, sidewalks and southern half of portico): range 410–36, midpoint 423, class Cs6 (absolute, inscription in situ), Cs6 (absolute, inscription not in situ but close to likely context), class Cs4 (reused material), class Cs3 (associative, phase of development). Dating summary (second phase consisting of shops, portico rebuild and sidewalk extension with water pipes): range ca. 576–601, midpoint 588.5, class Cs6 (absolute, inscription not in situ but close to likely context), class Cs4 (reused material), class z (site development). 13ASI Ephesus (Upper Embolos, late antique phase 1): On both sides of the road, there are columnar porticoes in non-matching reused architectural pieces, along with a street pavement with much reused marble / limestone, in the section around the Gate of Hercules. Just south of the Gate, an earlier ?basalt / dark stone paving survives that does not include reused material. Thus, it looks like there was a new colonnaded street project on the Upper Embolos, with an attempt made to repave a substantial

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part of the street and to finish off its colonnading where none existed, in the area south / above the Alytarch Stoa and Curetes Stoa area. Thür does not seem to say anything about these colonnades in the upper part of the Embolos, in her summary of the street: H. Thür, “Die spätantike Bauphase der Kuretenstraße”, in Efeso paleocristiana e bizantina—Frühchristliches und byzantinisches Ephesos, edd. R. Pillinger, O. Kresten, F. Krinzinger and E. Ruso (DenkschrWien 282. AF 3) (Vienna 1999) 104–20. Indeed, the phases of the Upper Embolos (which early excavation photos show have not been greatly modified by restoration) seem largely unexamined by scholars, even in a recent colloquium volume on the street; this did however address the latest use and medieval overbuilding of the street, and the phases within the shops here. Thus, what follows is mainly a summary of my own site observations and analyses made from photos taken as a tourist, in 2005 and 2013. I describe porticoes in terms of their position on the street in relation to the Gate of Hercules. Of dimensions, the overall dimensions of the road and porticoes north of the Gate of Hercules are ca. 4.5 m for the east portico, 7.5 m for the road way, and ca. 4 m for the western portico, so giving a total road with of 16 m, measuring from the plan of D. Iro, H. Schwaiger and A. Waldner, “Die Grabungen des Jahres 2005 in der Süd- und Nordhalle der Kuretenstraße. Ausgewählte Befunde und Funde”, in Neue Forschungen zur Kuretenstraße von Ephesos. Akten des Symposiums für Hilke Thür vom 13. Dezember 2006 an der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften (DenkschrWien 382. AF 15) (Vienna 2009) (53–87) p. 68 fig. 1. Of phasing and dating, I offer the following tentative summary, with combined notes on architectural features. Phase 1a (Early Imperial or later 4th / earlier 5th c.?, porticoes built) West portico, north of the Gate of Hercules: the primary phase visible has Ionic bases, grey marble columns, and no visible reused material. Some of the bases are supported by or associated with well-placed ashlar blocks, some of which look reused, but are infinitely better chosen and matched pieces than the later walls between the intercolumniations, which modified the portico floor, and which I thus place in a subsequent phase. Note that the adjacent Gate of Hercules podium leans against / respects an ashlar wall (with no spolia) that is very likely part of the portico, suggesting that the portico is earlier. Yet, the portico stops at the Gate, which has a commanding position at a road junction here. Furthermore, the final intercolumniation even suits the position of the Gate. This suggests that the first phase of the arch and the portico were made together. The portico is slightly overlain by the (reused) paving of the street, though the height of the column bases in relation to it do suggest that they were built at the same time.

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Although I did not measure them in any way, the columns appear to be about 3 m in height. What appears to be the original floor of the original portico is visible at its northern end (by the southern terminal of the Alytarch Stoa), as a series of rectangular sandstone slabs, with shallow steps set in it, next to a street junction. It is subsequently overlaid with a floor of heterogeneous reused marble slabs: L. Lavan site observation July 2005 and April 2013. This must have happened after 410 the start date for the period in which the colonnade was built (see below phase 1b) but before the decisive Persian invasion of 614, as secular civic building is not known in Asia Minor after this date. This pavement although modest is still a coherent piece of work with well-chosen pieces, rather than a series of ad hoc repairs that one might associate with individuals living here after 614. East portico, north of the Gate of Hercules: Here, in a few places, a good stone stylobate of ashlar limestone without reused pieces is visible, with a step up from the road. This is the earliest phase visible, suggesting that there was once a primary colonnade that was as neat as the west portico. It has been almost entirely obscured by later development. Its relationship with the Gate, which marks its traceable terminus, is not directly known. Although the stylobate contains no obvious reused material, its height suggests it is perhaps contemporary with the road paving. See below for later phases. It is possible that the Attic bases present on the stylobate, supporting the later spolia colonnade, might represent part of the first phase of this portico. Dating summary: see below under phase 1b. Phase 1b (shops built?, paving and Gate of Hercules built, earlier 5th c.) Shops of west portico, north of the Gate of Hercules: These shops are built of mortared rough blocks and some small square reused blocks, with regular brick courses, and are typical of late building work at Ephesus. At least in one case, their thresholds are stone blocks, with fittings for folding doors: e.g. Iro et al. (2009) 74 figs. 13–14. The plan on p. 1 fig. 1 shows two door thresholds which were investigated with sondages. I myself could count 7 entrances from my photos: L. Lavan site observations April 2013. However, this includes some shops clipped off the plan of fig. 1, even though they are part of the same row. Others were covered by later walls and no longer visible. Sondages of 2005 (see below) suggest the creation of a floor in one shop in the 4th c. (no later material identified). In Sondage 2b, a 4th c. floor was revealed, covered by a destruction layer of the second half of the 6th c. The floor corresponding with the threshold height did not produce significant finds, but its supporting layer did, with Eastern Sigillata C Hayes 1 plates of later (“ausgehende”) 2nd c. to the first half of the 3rd c., and beneath that a further bedding layer containing LRC Hayes 1–3 [which I take as

meaning an unidentifiable form within the range of LRC Hayes 1 to LRC Hayes 3, which begins in 387.5 with Hayes 1a in LRP and ends in 600 with Hayes 3h in Atlante]. This suggested to the excavators a use for the taberna in the 4th c. AD, “eine Nutzung bis in das 4. Jh. n. Chr.”, though the correct interpretation is surely that the floor was created in the 4th c. For details, see Iro et al. (2009) 59, with 73 fig. 12 and 74 figs. 13–14 showing floor levels and height relationship to threshold. However, this is the only shop to have produced such clear early evidence. In Sondage 2a, under the shop floor, were discovered a number of 4th–6th c. coins, but the latest of these was a coin of Justin II of AD 576–77, which suggests at least a restoration of the rooms in the later 6th c.: Iro et al. (2009) 59. Overall, the excavators believe that the west shops came into use in the 4th c., and point to the absence of any traces of early and middle imperial use. This fits well with the portico, which is much more homogenous than its eastern counterpart, where the shops seem to have been completely rebuilt in the later 6th c. (see below). Shops of east portico, north of the Gate of Hercules: there is some indication in the excavations of 2005 (see below) of an earlier row of shops represented by present brick structures which belong to a later phase. There are notably some drains. These structures lie underneath the early 6th c. floor levels, but their construction date has not yet been established. Gate of Hercules: see appendix F7a. This arch seems to overlie an ashlar wall that looks like part of the W. portico, N. of the Gate. However, its podium, which contains reused cornices, is integrated within the late road paving of reused blocks south of and above the Gate, meaning that the late paving was contemporary with it. The Gate also overlies the socle of an equestrian statue base which also overlies the reused street paving to the north, suggesting that it belongs with the late Embolos paving, which is dated, by the statue bases integrated within it and the Alytarch Stoa, to 410–36, on which see appendices C4 and H7. The gate also clearly blocks the view of the Hydreion down the Embolos, with its Tetrarchic imperial statues. Road paving: This paving surrounding the Gate of Hercules on the Middle and Upper Embolos (which has no wheel ruts) is of carefully chosen reused blocks well-sorted into short parallel rows of different width, not always extending across the full road surface, with a few adaptations to cut slabs to make blocks fit with each other, visible in the middle and lower part of the street. On the north side of the arch, the paving is later than the Trajanic Nymphaeum, which it covers over in an ungainly fashion, overwhelming the fountain’s front parapet entirely at one point by a rise in the road level. The paving here is also posterior to the first phase of the east portico, north of the Gate. It is also posterior to the west portico first phase, but contemporary

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters with the Gate itself, as noted above. A few metres further south from the Gate, at the very top of the Embolos, by the Hydreion, an older, heavily rutted basalt surface becomes visible, revealing the Upper Embolos paving. A lower basalt paving, under the late antique paving of reused marble, is visible also on one of the side streets here leading off from the Embolos, though in one place on the Embolos a lower paving seems to be of sandstone (by the Damocharis monument). I would suggest that both phase 1a and 1b belong together in a unified phase in which an arch was built flanked by double porticoes leading to it, as seen in some other developments of the period, notably in Africa. This seems a fair deduction given their neat structural character, and that they are all party to a rise in the level of the road. Of dating indications, we have 4 different pointers, all of them fairly flimsy. (i) Firstly, the Gate, and so the road paving into which it is integrated, should be Tetrarchic or postTetrarchic but before the mid 5th c. (ii) Secondly, some stratigraphic information comes from the small sondage 2b carried out in the west portico (just north of the Gate) in 2005, described above. Here, excavators believe that finds from the floor make-up layers suggest the taberna was brought into use in the later 4th c. There are no traces of early or middle imperial use. (iii) Thirdly, in the road paving by the Temple of Hadrian a reused decree was found (IvE 1.41) in two pieces, of the time of Constantius II, probably of AD 351, relating to the rehabilitation of the praetorian prefect Philippus (PLRE 1.696–97 Flavius Philippus 7). This must have been put in the road sometime after the death of Constantius II in 361. However, it cannot be certain that this is not a subsequent repair, and it is a long way from the Gate of Hercules, even if it is in an area with the same style of late paving: F. Miltner, “XXII Vorläufiger Bericht über die Ausgrabungen in Ephesos”, ÖJh 44 (1959) (267–90) 283–86. (iv) Fourthly, the console block supporting a portrait bust of the ?proconsul Eutropius, who adorned his fatherland with marble streets, which was located on the junction of the Marble Street and the Embolos (see above), may also relate to this project. The fact that it was set on a console block rather than a base means it was likely set into the adjacent portico. The inscription starts with a cross, which appears on civic inscriptions in this manner in the first decade of the 5th c. (v) Fifthly, and perhaps most importantly, the relationship of the paving of the street to the Alytarch Stoa is an interesting one, particularly with the statue bases of governors which stand before it, which seem to have been placed there (as can be shown in a couple of cases) at the same time as the portico was constructed, in the early 5th c. (one is of ca. AD 410, another could be as late as 436). In the upper southern part of the portico, the street paving seems to butt against the platforms supporting the statue-monuments (L. Lavan site

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observation April 2013), but at the lower northern end the statue-monuments were clearly placed over the paving: U. Quatember, A. Sokolicek and V. Scheibelreiter, “Die sogenannte Alytarchenstoa an der Kuretenstraße von Ephesos”, in Neue Forschungen zur Kuretenstraße von Ephesos. Akten des Symposiums für Hilke Thür vom 13. Dezember 2006 an der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, ed. S. Ladstätter (DenkschrWien 382. AF 15) (Vienna 2009) (111–54) 152 fig. 48. Regional TPQ for all this building work of 614 of the decisive Persian invasion of Anatolia can be used, being the latest moment for secular monumental investment in civil buildings known in Asia Minor, a proposition which is not contradicted by finds on the Embolos, although occupation did continue (see intro to this notice). Overall, the final observation is of greatest value, it demonstrates that the paving of the street, arranged in well-sorted rows of reused rectangular slabs, cut to make angles fit, was likely laid at the same time as the Stoa of the Alytarch (sometime between 395–442, although statuary suggests 410–36: see appendices F7a and H7). Furthermore, it looks very likely that the late phases 1a and 1b of the Embolos belonged together as a coherent piece of work, and that their date lies in the last quarter of the 4th c. or first quarter of the 5th c., with outside termini of 361 to 436. In particular, we can note that the row of ‘Victory’ statue bases that stand in front of the columns on the east portico north of the Gate of Hadrian is partly tied into the street paving, in the same way as is the row in front of the Stoa of the Alytarch. This can be seen as the last base emplacement to the north (and perhaps 2 others). However, the rest of the statue ornament in this row has been placed here in its current display setting in phase 4 (see below), and is not tied into the street paving. I do not think it is necessary to evoke mid 4th c. historically-attested earthquakes of AD 358, 365 or 368 [Guidoboni Catalogo no. 133, no. 138 and no. 139], which some scholars claim is reflected in imperial support attested by a letter of Valens, Valentinian and Gratian that is inscribed on the Octagonal Heroon of the Embolos (AD 370/71) IvE 1.42. This is challenged by C. Foss, Ephesus after Antiquity: a Late Antique, Byzantine and Turkish City (Cambridge 1979) 188–91. Of use, there are two simple crosses and two square 2 by 2 gameboards on stylobate of the Stoa of the Alytarch, one 3 by 9+ row gameboard on the ?original stylobate of the east portico (just north of Gate of Hercules), one 5 by 2 rectangular gameboard on a reused road slab in front of the nymphaeum of the Heroon, one star in circle gameboard on a drain slab of the Heroon nymphaeum, one 3 by 10+ row gameboard on a reused road slab on the east side of the road (just south of Baths of Scholasticia), one 2 by 2 square gameboard on the late kerb of the east portico, one cross with splayed ends on an east portico column (near the Gate of Hercules), one web-type circular gameboard in

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reused paving on the north side of the Gate of Hercules, very close to gate and one tabula ansata cut with a gameboard of 3 by 12 rows reused in paving of the east portico higher floor (near the Gate). Striations are visible on the road paving, especially for a long stretch on the east side of the road, coming down from the Gate of Hercules, suggesting that animals came down the hill on the right side of the road, a phenomenon also seen on one of the side roads: L. Lavan site observations April 2013. Dating summary (of phase 1b, also applied to the whole of phase 1a): range 410–36, midpoint 423, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs7 (TPQ inscription), Cs6 (TAQ inscription), Cs3 (associative, phase of development) Cs4 (reused material), publication 3/3. Dating summary (for reused marble paving of west portico, with TPQ derived from phase 1a): range 410–614, midpoint 512, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs7 (TPQ inscription), Cs6 (absolute, inscription), Cs3 (associative, phase of development), z (regional development), publication 3/3. 13ASI Ephesus (Upper Embolos, phase 2, stairs, included here for reference): Stairs in reused material lead up north behind the Gate of Hercules into a side street. They are laid in reused material. These stairs were constructed after the Gate of Hercules, but before the shops were built to the north-east: the retaining wall of the steps is overlain by the façade of the shops of this portico. However, the stairs and the shops are likely part of the same building operation: the build looks similar, although that of the shops is a little rougher, consisting of unsquared blocks with bricks to fill gaps, but without levelling courses. Thus, I will give the stairs the same date as the east shops (below). This sub-phase of stairs is important, however, because it shows that the extant shops date after the Gate of Hercules and are not contemporary with it. Dating summary: (see below for reasons) range 576–601, midpoint 588.5, class Cs3 (associative, phase of development), class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs8 (contextual coins), Cs3 (associative finds), publication 3/3. 13ASI Ephesus (Upper Embolos, phase 3): Shops of east portico, north of the Gate: These shops were built of mortared rough blocks and some small square reused blocs, with brick laid in regular courses every 30–40 cm or so, typical of late building work at Ephesus. As noted above, they are later than the retaining wall for the stairs leading into a side street, which leaves the Embolos at the south-east corner of the portico. Nevertheless, both likely date from the same programme of reorganisation. A possible date for them comes from sondages carried out in 2005: D. Iro, H. Schwaiger and A. Waldner, “Die Grabungen des Jahres 2005 in der Süd- und Nordhalle der Kuretenstraße. Ausgewählte Befunde und Funde”, in

Neue Forschungen zur Kuretenstraße von Ephesos. Akten des Symposiums für Hilke Thür vom 13. Dezember 2006 an der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, edd. S. Ladstätter et al. (DenkschrWien 382. AF 15) (Vienna 2009) (53–87) 61–62, 77 with fig. 19. There were 14 shops in the row (see plan on p. 68 fig. 1), although only their thresholds have been revealed, of stone blocks with fittings for folding doors, e.g. p. 83 fig. 33. Internal dimensions are not known. Sondage 2 has produced material from the floor and floor foundation level. There are finds of LRC Hayes 5a plate [460–500 ca. in Atlante], given as dating from the later (“ausgehende”) 5th c. to the first quarter of the 6th c. and a rim-fragment of an LRA 3 amphora [of which the two-handled type is 387.5–?600 RADR]. These finds are implied to come from the floor and floor foundation respectively (SE 206 and 207), suggesting to the excavators an early to mid 6th c. date of final use phase, although the difference between the finds raises the possibility they may have confused final floor construction and final floor use here, with the amphora being trampled in. Below the floor is a charcoal layer (SE 209) with an amphora fragment of Peacock-Williams 45 (LRA3) given as of the late 5th to 6th c. [I am not able to confirm this dating from RADR or other sources], covering over some fragmentary brick structures, suggesting that the last phase of the taberna reused the site of earlier shop units. Early Imperial and Hellenistic structures were found below (conglomerate blocks and a well): D. Iro, H. Schwaiger and A. Waldner, “Die Grabungen des Jahres 2005 in der Süd- und Nordhalle der Kuretenstraße. Ausgewählte Befunde und Funde”, in Neue Forschungen zur Kuretenstraße von Ephesos. Akten des Symposiums für Hilke Thür vom 13. Dezember 2006 an der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, edd. S. Ladstätter et al. (DenkschrWien 382. AF 15) (Vienna 2009) (53–87) 61–62, 77 with fig. 19. It seems that the raising of the floor is best dated by the two LRA3 fragments, which are given by the excavators [differently to RADR] as no earlier than the late 5th c. Thankfully, the next sondage produced clearer evidence, suggesting that the shop floor renovations occurred a little later in time. Sondage 4 revealed a raising of a shop’s threshold and floor, and (below) a filling of a drain which previously served the unit [but apparently no longer did so in the new raised phase]. It is important to consider the different contexts separately. (i) From the raised floor deposit (context south-east 407/406), between the two thresholds, come a plate of Hayes 10 [actually LRC Hayes 10, as is clear from p. 81 fig. 25.1, with thanks to A. Waldner pers. comm. 2017, so ca. 570–660+ LRP] and also LRC Hayes 3 or LRC Hayes 10 [400-ca. 550 in LRP + SLRP; ca. 570–660+ LRP], suggesting to the excavators a date in the 6th c. for its creation: Iro, Schwaiger and Waldner (2009) 63, 80 with

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters figs. 23–24. (ii) At the bottom of the drain was found a thick layer of sinter [i.e. lime deposited during use of the drain] with corroded coins, one of which was a minimus of Zeno, Anastasius or Justin I [so covering the period 476–518]. (iii) The fill of the drain (context SE408) produced a fragment of LRC Hayes 3 [400-ca. 550 in LRP + SLRP] and Amphora Ephesus 56 [end of 4th to 7th c., see below], alongside two lamps. The first lamp had a dull red slip featuring “einen massiven Griff und einen runden, von der Schulter abgesetzten Diskus auf, dessen Füllloch eine konzentrische Warzenreihe ziert. Der Schulterdekor besteht aus einem feinen mehrreihigen Warzendekor,” which the report authors consider to be probably second half of the 6th c. [so 550–600] based on comparisons to S. Ladstätter, “Römische, spätantike und byzantinische Keramik aus Ephesos”, in Das Vediusgymnasium in Ephesos, edd. M. Steskal and M. La Torre (Forschungen in Ephesos 14.1) (Vienna 2008) (97–186) Typ III.4 (Warzenlampen), especially K332 [Ladstätter (2008) 119 actually dates lamps of type II–IV in the second half of the 6th to first half of the 7th c. I do not know how further refinements have been arrived at but I defer to the Ephesus team, given their close observation of stratigraphy]. The second lamp is also dull red with a “massivem Griff weist einen flächigen, kompakten, mattrot glänzenden Überzug auf. Der Diskus und das große zentrale Füllloch sind deutlich abgesetzt. Am Übergang zur Schnauze befindet sich ein weiteres kleines Loch. Die Lampe ist bis auf einen Blattzungendekor auf dem Schnauzengang und weiteren Blattzungen auf der Unterseite des Henkels ohne Dekor.” The report authors suggest that this lamp dates from the advanced 5th c. [ca. 487?–500], based on comparisons to Type 1 lamps of Ladstätter (2008) especially Type I.3, with dating given there as from the end of the 5th c.: Ladstätter (2008) 118. Overall, we should note that drain might have fallen out of use slightly before the shops were renovated rather than being filled at the time of the renovation. Admittedly, we cannot discern much difference in terms of the ceramics, as the material in the floor level is only slightly later than it, with the last find having a start date of ca. 570. The drain fill material provides the first lamp as the find with the latest start date, of AD 550, even if this is provisional. However, on its own the shop floor material provides a contextual date of 570–595, for the raising of the shop floor and threshold. Significantly, a section drawing for Sondage 4 in the report (p. 80 figs. 23–24) shows that the raised threshold of the shop in Sondage 4 corresponds with the bottom of the extant tabernae walls, implying that the mortared shops on the east side of the street were built in the same period as the shop floors were renovated. These shops lay above earlier structures, which included a drain, excavated in the same shop (see below). We should bear in mind that some of the sondages are very small (ca. 1.5 m by 1.5 m) and are

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limited to the areas just inside the thresholds. However, this is the strongest evidence we have for the date of the shops, so far, which must be taken into consideration. Sondage 7 has a clayey floor level (SE 704a), corresponding with the taberna threshold, which is also set to correspond to the bottom of the extant shop wall, as seen from the section, and so is contemporary with its construction. From the floor and the fill supporting it (SE 705b) have come LRC Hayes 1D [400–475 LRP] and variant Hayes 2 [370–460 LRP] (which the excavators considered to belong in the 5th c.), along with a fragment of Amphora LR 3 and of Amphora Ephesos Type 56 [both end of the 4th c. to 7th c. at Ephesus according to T. Bezeczky, “Roman Amphorae in Ephesus”, Forum Archaeologiae 62/III/2012 http://farch.net/ (last accessed May 2017), although RADR has LR 3 two-handled as 387.5–?600], which suggested to the excavators a dating of the floor of around the later 5th to 6th c.: Iro, Schwaiger and Waldner (2009) 64 and 82 figs. 26–27 (section and photo). However, Sondage 7 has also produced a drain buried beneath the floor, from which somewhat later evidence has been produced. The earth blocking (SE 706/705) of the drain contains as its earliest finds LRC plates of Hayes 3 [400-ca. 550 LRP + SLRP], including a variant only 14 cm in diameter, which belongs in the first half of the 5th c. The latest finds include a lamp given as of the second half of the 6th c. (Ladstätter (2008) 117–19 Type III.3 [actually Ladstätter (2008) 119 dates lamps of type II–IV in the second half of the 6th to first half of the 7th c. I do not know how further refinement of date has been arrived at, but defer to the Ephesus team given their close study of ceramics and stratigraphy]) and a coin of either Justinian (AD 527–65) or Baduilla / Totila (541–52) struck between 542 and 565. This suggests the drain was in use serving the shop during the 5th and 6th c., and that its filling and the raising of the floor dates from after 542–67. In fact it suggests we should consider the blocking finds along with the floor finds above, and treat them together as providing a contextual date for the raising of the floor of 542. On all of this trench see Iro, Schwaiger and Waldner (2009) 64 and 82 figs. 26–27 (section and photo). I do not provide a total listing of all finds from the drains, only the earliest and latest material. There is also some ERSW, falling within the date range already defined. These different sondages suggest that the final floors in each shop, corresponding with the current thresholds, and (by extension) the whole extant row of the shops, were constructed in the period 5 more precisely ca. 570–95 (revised to 576–601, see below). I take the 570–95 contextual date of Sondage 4 as replacing the 542–67 contextual date of Sondage 7, because I consider the shops as a whole to have been built in this period. Subsequent occupation of these shops (from the same sondages, see below for ceramics) also supports this building date. Structures were found

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beneath the shops, notably brick drains. However, these relate to an earlier phase, perhaps shops connected to the first late antique phase of the street. East portico, north of the Gate: Most of the extant east portico is a mess of reused material, in contrast to its original neat stylobate, seen in a few places, and in contrast to the west portico. Of architectural features, we see that the colonnade has been built with little regard to architectural canons: in some places, there are no column bases present under columns, which are themselves heterogeneous in style and colour, being of pink, grey, mixed pink / grey marbles and sometimes granite, with one white limestone / marble fluted column. The diameters also vary considerably. Where present, the bases look Attic to me, but these seem to be relics of an earlier portico, built at the same time as the road paving, as described above, probably in the period 410–36. Although I did not measure them, the columns appeared to be about 3 m in height: L. Lavan site observation 2005. Three of the fine fluted columns have been identified as coming from the Octagon heroon on the same street: H. Thür, “Die Ergebnisse der Arbeiten an der Innerstädtischen Via Sacra im Embolosbereich”, in Via Sacra Ephesiaca 2. Grabungen und Forschungen 1992 und 1993 (Berichte und Materialien des Österreichischen Archäologischen Institutes), edd. D. Knibbe and H. Thür (Vienna 1995)) (84–95) 87. Thür also notes here the lack of architrave blocks, suggesting that it was arcaded, although a wooden architrave is perhaps also possible as I have not heard of examination of the capitals. The lack of column bases can be confirmed as an original feature by an excavation archive photo on J. Auinger, “Zum Umgang mit Statuen hoher Würdenträger in spätantiker und nachantiker Zeit entlang der Kuretenstraße in Ephesos”, in Neue Forschungen zur Kuretenstraße von Ephesos. Akten des Symposiums für Hilke Thür vom 13. Dezember 2006 an der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften edd. S. Ladstätter et al. (DenkschrWien 382. AF 15) (Vienna 2009) (29–52) 52 fig. 24. This photo shows a column in situ being excavated, which today has no base. Comparison of archive photos with the site in 2005 suggested to me that the site had not been greatly altered by restoration works. The present floor is composed of a lot of poorly-matching reused stone slabs and decorative blocks. Of phasing, one can note that it would have been necessary to dismantle and rebuild the portico when the adjacent east shops were rebuilt: this suggests that the portico in its extant (very mixed form) might date from the same time, a view that I adopt here, creating a TPQ based on phase of development. Of other dating, we can take associative evidence of occupation and a generic TAQ. Coins found around the thermopolium of the portico (see below), have produced examples from the time of Anastasius to

Heraclius (of 498–615), rather than any 4th c. or mid 5th c. issues, revealing that this bar counter was probably not functioning prior to the 6th c. Shops of west portico, north of the Gate: In Sondage 2a, the last shop floor was dated from 576–601 on the basis of coins from cracks in the floor substructure; 12 4th–6th c. coins were recovered, of which 10 were of the 6th c., the latest of which was a coin of Justin II of AD 576–77: Iro, Schwaiger and Waldner (2009) 61–62, 77 with fig. 19. This supports a contextual date for the last shop floor of 25 years after 576. West portico, north of the Gate: This portico has not been altered in the same way as the east portico, and so I do not attribute any building phase to it here. Overall, the finds from two of the sondages in the east shops provide a contextual date of 542–67 and 570–95, whilst one sondage in the west portico suggests a rebuilding in 576–601. I will take the last date as being the correct date (as it is later) for the whole ensemble of what looks like a common project of rebuilding, of both rows of shops and the east portico. Dating summary (of phase 3): range 576–601, midpoint 588.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs8 (contextual coins), Cs3 (associative finds), Cs3 (associative, phase of development), publication 3/3. 13ASI Ephesus (Upper Embolos, phase 4: re-erection of statues inside a low wall / kerb, shop occupation) (Later 6th to early 7th c.): In this phase, there was a final reoccupation of the shops on both sides of the road, following a destruction, with one shop (sondage 2a) exhibiting a floor of the later 6th to early 7th c., which corresponds well with the final use levels of the portico where boundary kerb and a thermopolium were established. The evidence from the east side of the road is a lot clearer than that from the west, but for the sake of organisational simplicity, the W half is here presented first. Occupation of west portico shops, north of the Gate of Hercules (called the “Südhalle” in the report): small areas (ca. 1.2 m by 0.3 m) of two shops entrances within the portico, just across and inside their doors, have been excavated, although they produced very different results. In Sondage 2a, on top of the shop floor (dating from 576–601 on the basis of coins beneath it) was found a coin of Heraclius of 610–11. In the loamy (“lehmige”) layer over the floor were discovered plates of LRC Hayes 10C [600– 650 Atlante] and a local imitation of LRC Hayes 3 [LRC Hayes 3 is 400-ca. 550 in LRP + SLRP], which suggested to the excavators that the room stayed in use until the first half / mid 7th c.: D. Iro, H. Schwaiger and A. Waldner, “Die Grabungen des Jahres 2005 in der Süd- und Nordhalle der Kuretenstraße. Ausgewählte Befunde und Funde”, in Neue Forschungen zur Kuretenstraße von Ephesos. Akten des Symposiums für Hilke Thür vom 13. Dezember 2006 an

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, edd. S. Ladstätter et al., edd. S. Ladstätter et al. (DenkschrWien 382. AF 15) (Vienna 2009) (53–87) 59, with 73 fig. 12 and 74 fig. 13 showing floor levels and height relationship to threshold. In Sondage 2b, the floor was covered by a destruction layer, which is what really records the last use of the structure. This contained, as its latest find, a lamp decorated with concentric circles and “Vertikalhasten” on the shoulder, a “Stichelkranz am Übergang zum ansonst unverzierten Diskus und einem Blattdekor auf der Unterseite”, which, from parallels to the finds from the water channel filling of the cellar of the Vediusgymnasium (lamp types 2.3 and 3.3), should date to the second half of the 6th c. AD: S. Ladstätter, “Römische, spätantike und byzantinische Keramik aus Ephesos”, in Das Vediusgymnasium in Ephesos, edd. M. Steskal and M. La Torre (Forschungen in Ephesos 14.1) (Vienna 2008) (97–186) 119f [actually Ladstätter (2008) 119 dates lamps of type II–IV in the second half of the 6th to first half of the 7th c.]). A further broken mortar layer that was likely part of the same destruction contained an amphora fragment of LR 3 [Two-handled: 387.5–?600 RADR], which they date to the 5th–6th c.: Iro, Schwaiger and Waldner (2009) 59–60, 76 with fig. 16. In Sondage 2a, there was a final level of a 15 cm thick burnt layer, with mixed late antique finds, which did not permit a further chronology to be established: p. 59. Occupation of east portico shops, north of the Gate of Hercules (called “Nordhalle” in the report): Again small sondages were made just inside a series of shop doorways, which produced quite different results. Sondage 2’s last floor is covered by a destruction layer which has been dated to within the 6th c., because it contains no finds clearly later than those found in the floor / floor foundation levels. Sondage 12 is the cleaning of a thermopolium counter set out in the portico space itself. In occupation levels, it has produced coins from the time of Anastasius to Heraclius (of AD 498–615), followed by evidence for fire destruction: Iro, Schwaiger and Waldner (2009) 64–65 with 84, fig. 29. These sondages from the eastern portico (when taken with phase 3 above) appear to show a row of shops continuing in occupation during the 6th c., as shown by the bulk of ceramics or coins, though the drains likely started to fill up in the previous phase of occupation. Low wall / kerb added to the front of the east portico, north of the Gate of Hercules, with integrated row of statue bases: Set secondarily, directly in front of the portico stylobate / terminus onto the road, is a wall composed of a single row of badly matched reused blocks, which supports a group of statue bases resting against the portico. This wall covers over the road paving, and the east portico (north of the

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gate). It is sometimes a little unsystematic, being a single isolated block in places, supporting a single statue base, and does not extend right up to the Gate of Hercules. Some of the statue bases are made out of engaged pedestals, and thus have a rough back-side resting against columns in their reuse context. Without the supports the statues would not stand here easily, so they were installed after the portico was constructed. Some of the bases are composed of non-matching composite elements, and some are set within the wall rather than on top of it. It does not seem in any place that the late portico was conceived with the low wall in mind, as all the columns are set back from it. Significantly, the latest floor inside the portico is at the height of the top of the low walls, not at the height of the columns bases, suggesting that at the time the row of statues was added the portico was given a new higher floor of mixed reused stone pieces, not laid in any organised way. The date of this development is controversial. Roueché has suggested that the statues along the portico were erected as a group in AD 379–85, as the majority are reerected Victories, to honour the highest-ranking base in the group, which supported a statue of Aelia Flacilla, who was empress within these dates: C. Roueché, “The image of Victory: new evidence from Ephesus”, in Mélanges Gilbert Dagron (TravMém 14) (Paris 2002) (527–46) with 531 n. 4 for the empress, with p. 529 fig. 2 providing a plan, with numbers for each statue. See appendix H7 for individual statues. There are good reasons for doubting this dating. It does not tally well with the dating of the surrounding archaeology revealed in 2005. More seriously, it does not seem likely from the nature of the arrangement itself, which contrasts sharply, for example, with the Alytarch Stoa statues, which are carefully arranged and integrated into that portico’s construction (see appendices C4 and H7). Other imperial statue groups in the same city are also more tightly organised, around specific buildings, as at the Nymphaeum on the Upper Agora, or the Hydreion and the Temple of Hadrian on the Embolos (appendix H7). But in our statue group, Aelia Flacilla is placed within a row of statues with no special distinction afforded to her base, being close to an honorific statue for a doctor, who is highest up the street, next to the arch (IvE 4.1320 = Roueché (2002) 530 no. 1 = LSA 735–36), dated to 400–60 based on the presence of crosses at the beginning and end of the text and the dedication by the boule and demos. Victories do surround the statue on the north and south parts of the row, but the imperial statue is not centred within them. Furthermore, one of the surviving bronze victories recovered had a toga or himation secondarily added to its upper parts, so as to become a portrait statue, likely for a civic or imperial dignitary: J. Auinger, “Zum Umgang mit Statuen hoher Würdenträger in spätantiker und nachantiker Zeit entlang

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der Kuretenstraße in Ephesos”, in Neue Forschungen zur Kuretenstrasse von Ephesos. Akten des Symposiums für Hilke Thür vom 13. Dezember 2006 an der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, edd. S. Ladstätter et al. (DenkschrWien 382. AF 15) (Vienna 2009) 37–38, with 53 fig. 23–24 and map showing find-spot on p. 46 no. 5, confirmed in p. 37 n. 86 as being Roueché (2002) 535 no. 11. If one looks elsewhere along the Embolos it becomes clear that not everything is at it seems. An inscribed late antique statue base honouring the proconsul of Asia Stephanus (IvE 4.1310; LSA 732), now dated to ca. 410 [PLRE 2.1028 Stephanus 3, not PLRE 1.1028 as in LSA] (see appendix H7), stands before the Alytarch Stoa, with original fittings for a bronze statue, but was found carrying a late antique togate marble torso with a non-matching attached head, that have both been stylistically dated to the 6th c.: J. Auinger, “Zum Umgang mit Statuen hoher Würdenträger in spätantiker und nachantiker Zeit entlang der Kuretenstraße in Ephesos”, in Neue Forschungen zur Kuretenstraße von Ephesos. Akten des Symposiums für Hilke Thür vom 13. Dezember 2006 an der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, edd. S. Ladstätter et al. (DenkschrWien 382. AF 15) (Vienna 2009) (29–52) 33–36. Thus, it looks like there has been a phase of later repair, which has especially affected the statue bases in front of the north-east portico. Certainly, it is possible that the statue of Aelia Flacilla, to whom an escort of Victories would have been appropriate for an early 5th c. date, was first set up here in the early 5th c. At the northern end of the row of bases, three of them (Roueché’s nos 10, 11 and 12 on her plan, which are an uninscribed base and two bases of unspecified images, likely of Victories, with Early Imperial dedicatory inscriptions) and a final unused emplacement for a statue monument, do not stand inside the wall but directly on the paving. The last statue emplacement is a large flat slab clearly integrated within the inclined street paving, in the same manner as some of the emplacements in front of the Stoa of the Alytarch. But subsequently, most of the bases in this row have been raised up at a higher level on the late ‘kerb’. The kerb was set up after the building of the ugly eastern portico in its present form, with its messy use of reused materials. Thus, the statue-line probably post-dates the phase 3 renovation / building of the eastern shops in their present form. N.B. The last surviving shop to the north on the east side of the street has a threshold which has been raised above the original level of the late antique shops of phase 3: L. Lavan site observation April 2013. Low wall added to the west portico, north of the Gate, modification: There is a secondary blocking of the intercolumniations of the portico with a low wall made of poorly-matching and poorly-laid reused material. This wall also acts as a kerb, like that in front of the east portico, but is higher (some

2 to 3 blocks high), and set between the columns, not in front of them. The blocking wall covers over some column bases and creates higher floors in the portico, perhaps to support a sequence of flatter stretches with steps between them (like in the Stoa of the Alytarch) rather than continuous gradual steps. One column and base have been lifted up from their original position, as part of the creation of the wall, implying that the wider portico roof was repaired (in part at least) during this building work. I was not able to examine the relationship of shop doorways to this higher level. Paving within this raised portico was in earth / gravel for the floor level inside this higher level, as far as can be seen. Given the character and location of these works it is likely they were done at the same time as the building of the kerb in front of the east portico in this same short section of the street. Overall, I am only able to offer a tentative chronology for phase 4. This depends on associating the two low walls / kerbs of the west and east porticoes into a single phase. That in front of the east portico can be proposed, on the basis of stratigraphic observations from the shop floors of phase 3, to post-date 576 [a TPQ derived from the west portico, although on the east side we have a TPQ of 570]. This is a poor state of affairs, but the best that can be managed given the current level of archaeological investigation on the Upper Embolos, which could be improved by further sondages under the portico floors especially. There is no reason to place the construction activities of phase 4 beyond the decisive Persian invasion of 614, even if such occupation may have continued, as secular civic building is not known in Asia Minor after this date. Dating summary (for construction events of phase 4): range 576–614, midpoint 595, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), class Cs8 (contextual coins), z (regional development), publication 3/3. 13ASI Ephesus (Upper Embolos, phase 4–5, south of the Gate of Hercules): West portico, south of the Gate of Hercules: An irregular portico, of which three intercolumniations survive, which uses non-matching highly mixed reused materials. It is partially recorded in a plan overlying vertical laser scan plan in S. Ladstätter, “Forschungen in der Türkei: Ephesos: I.1.1.3 Kuretenstraße”, in ÖJh (2015) (14–16) 14 plan. From the design of the portico in relation to the space and to the surviving elements of stone kerb, I suspect that one column has been lost to the north and at least one more to the south. Of architectural features, the surviving colonnade elements are composed of hetrogenous elements, set directly over road paving without a stylobate. They are (south to north): firstly an impost capital over a thin column on an Ionic base; secondly, a short squat thick column of pink marble on a quarry-ready base; thirdly, a similar squat thick column of a lesser height on a quarry-ready base capped by

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters an impost capital. The tall thin column appears to be about 3 m in height from my impressions from photos, although I did not measure them in any way. The last two columns are set much further apart than the first two. Random blocks lying around the portico may represent a stone store or perhaps part of the structure. Certainly, a line of blocks seems to have been set in front of the portico to form a road kerb for part of its length: L. Lavan site observation 2005. These blocks have now been moved, as shown on a photo of Ladstätter (2015) 15, although they are shown on the laser scan plan on p. 14. Of architectural design, the portico is clearly a continuation of the Upper Embolos west portico, likely banking up against the Gate of Hercules, although it closes a side road running off the Embolos to the west in a most unconventional way. It is difficult to envisage what sort of roof might have been carried by such an irregular colonnade, but it is likely that some upper elements are missing from the middle columns, whilst arcading could have been used to iron out some irregularities, as suggested by use of impost capitals. The recent cleaning of this area has revealed a kerb of stone blocks between the last column and the end of the portico at the Gate of Hercules. This is similar in the form of stone block used to those of the ‘Low wall added to the west portico, north of the Gate, modification’ described above. Of dimensions, the plan shows a portico that is ca. 3.7 m to 4.25 m wide (although very irregular in width) and is ca. 17.5–19.1 m long along the stylobate, although it is unclear where the portico begins and ends exactly. It may have gone further up the road, where erosion by surface water at this steep point may have removed it. Of phasing, the two northernmost columns match in bases and materials and horizontal sizes, suggesting that they are part of a first phase. They correspond with the road paving of rectangular spolia slabs, with no visible inscribed faces, that are laid in rows of irregular width, sometimes cut to fit, generally of white marble, which make up the late paving of the Emoblos and Marble Street and surrounding road, and which run through the Gate of Hercules. A second phase seems to be visible in the southern half of the portico. Here the southernmost (very odd) column corresponds with a different type of paving of more irregular large slabs of black stone, well-polished, which rises uphill a considerable distance, but not the whole street, perhaps to the top of the street past the temple of Domitian, although not along its full length (L. Lavan site observations 2005). This paving can be seen to significantly overlie a different spolia portico on the opposite east side of the road (Ladstätter (2015) 15), at a height of perhaps 0.5 m (estimating from the photo) suggesting that the black paving is of a very different phase. A third phase, perhaps part of

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the second phase, is represented by the positioning of the stone kerb of rectangular blocks of reused material in front of the northern half of the portico. Of dating, the whole portico (including its first phase elements) seems to be built over the road paving which includes reused material, though this is not completely clear on my photos. It is likely to have been constructed after the Gate of Hercules (likely ca. 410–36, based on common relationship of paving to statue monuments of this date, see appendix F7a), given its overlying of paving which seems to be contemporary to the gate and its position, filling a gap between the back of the Gate and a corner marking the end of the monumental area of the Embolos. Phase 1 seems most likely to be contemporary with ‘Low wall added to the west portico, north of the Gate, modification’ described above (576–614), as the blocks used to form the kerb aligned with colonnade are not obviously later than it. The second (and perhaps third phase), should be the same date as the black road paving, which is clearly very late. It must date after 576 and before the end of investment in civic architecture after the Persian invasion of 614, although there could always be the chance here that it is very late indeed, perhaps earlier 7th c., given its chaotic character. Dating summary (phase 1 = phase 4 of Upper Embolos): range 576–614, midpoint 595, class Cs3 (associative, phase of development), Cs7 (inscription in situ) Cs5 (catch-all masonry, including spolia use), z (regional development), publication 3/3. Dating summary (phase 2 = phase 5 of Upper Embolos, rebuilding of the portico, new road paving): range 576– 614, midpoint 595, class Cs3 (associative, phase of development), Cs7 (inscription in situ) Cs5 (catch-all masonry, including spolia use), z (regional development), publication 3/3. East Portico, south of the Gate of Hercules: Here, a portico has been excavated, once roughly in the 1950s then carefully in 2015, that was subdivided into shops at the same time as black paving, mentioned above, was placed on the street. The report of S. Ladstätter, “Forschungen in der Türkei: Ephesos: I.1.1.3 Kuretenstraße”, in ÖJh (2015) (14–16) gives a laser scan plan on p. 14 and a photo on p. 16. It produces some interesting dating evidence but the phasing is not developed fully, which I try to do here. Of dimensions, the plan shows a portico that is ca. 3.2 m to 3.75 m wide and is ca. 20.8 m long along the stylobate and ca. 21.7 m along the back wall. All these figures are hand-measured off the plan. Of architectural form, it is a portico of 6 intercolumniations, between the Gate of Hercules and the Hydreion, fronting brick and rubble banded masonry shops, with three portals shown on the plan and one on the photo, with a stone threshold block.

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Of architectural features, the first phase of the portico seems (from the photo which is small-scale) to be composed of a variety of different columns, of short drums, of grey limestone, Doric capitals in, at least, one case and probably all. One of these seems to sit on a base, which looks like white marble, and might be Attic, although the photo is not clear enough to see. The portico interaxial spacing is not entirely regular, especially towards the north end. The interior floor of the portico does not survive in all parts, as the report makes clear. However, in the southern part it is composed of poorly-sorted reused material of different types, poorly jointed, without cutting to fit, often with elements of previous use (such as dowel holes) visible in the surface. This does seem to be contemporary with the colonnade, by associated height, but also because a floor slabs runs under the visible column base. It is tempting to think that the portico floor was put down to serve the encroaching rooms, as it does not occur in the middle room (two clay floors) or the northernmost room (where the clay bedding for floor survives). Yet, the relationship of the stone floor to the colonnade and to the later portals suggests it relates to the portico before its subdivision into shops, an event which might have happened soon after portico construction. Of phasing, I would suggest that the portico in its initial phase should be phased with the late rough floor of unsorted and poorly jointed reused blocks of the east portico of the Upper Embolos, north of the Gate of Hercules, which belongs in phase 4, along with the late kerb. A secondary phase (phase 5 of the Upper Embolos) is visible in the subdivision of the portico into rooms by rubble walls and with the blocking of the intercolumniations of the portico with rubble walls. The latter retain a significant rise of the black earth (ca. 0.5 m I guess) which supports a higher level of road paving of black slabs, poorly jointed (with some wheel ruts on it), and reused materials. A threshold block set in one of the blocking walls in the intercolumniations is clearly set at a level above the spolia floor, which it overlies, so demonstrating the two phases of the portico. It is very likely that the three shops in the portico back wall date from the same period as the portico, although I did not see enough of their masonry to be sure of this. Certainly, one shop threshold that is visible on the photo is set at the level of the floor of reused slabs. These features are based on observations of my own made from the photo on p. 15 of the report. A fire-destruction layer ended the occupation of the shop: p. 16. Of shops, three rooms were created inside the portico in a secondary phase, corresponding with two intercolumnar bays each, each serving one shop in the wall behind. They measure internally (south to north) 3.2 m by 6.2 m, 3.1 m by 5.5 m, and 2.85 m by 8.2 m, although the last room

is trapezoidal rather than rectangular like the other two. The shops contain stone benches in two cases and in two cases a basin, which in the middle shop contained a burnt layer with iron finds and bronze and glass vessels. 84 coins (not identified in the report) were found in the clay floors of the middle shops: pp. 14–15. The large number of drinking vessels, amphoras displayed on bench, and large bowls and storage vessels, found in one of the rooms suggest that it was a thermopolium: p. 16. Of dating, the first phase of the portico should share a phase 4 date of 576–614 with the portico north of the gate. This associative dating provides the tightest dating for the structure. It is reinforced by a coin of Justin II (reigned 565– 78) recovered from the mortar bedding of the portico in its northern half, where no slabs survive: Ladstätter (2015) 14. The second phase (phase 5 of the Upper Embolos) must date after 576 and before the end of investment in civic architecture after the Persian invasion of 614, although there could always be the chance here that it is very late indeed, perhaps earlier 7th c., given its chaotic character. The fire which brought the occupation of the shops to an end is dated by the excavator to the early 7th c. based on the ceramic finds. The report lists on p. 16 the ceramics of the occupation layer preserved by the fire destruction as bowls and plates of LRC, the so-called ‘Meander Valley Sigillata’ as well as unspecified local fineware. There were numerous small cups with handles, of a so-far unknown type, but believed by L. to be probably a typical drinking vessel form of the early 7th c. Along the masonry bank to the east stood a number of amphorae of types LRA 2, 3, 4, and 5. As L. is a ceramic authority on Ephesus, we can defer provisionally to the date given for the destruction, although we would really need the date ranges of specific wares to calculate a proper ceramic date. In this study, my upper limit for the date ‘early 7th c.’ is 612.5. Dating summary (phase 1 = phase 4 of Upper Embolos, construction of shops and portico: range 576–614, midpoint 595, class Cs3 (associative, phase of development), Cs7 (inscription in situ), Cs5 (catch-all masonry, including spolia use), z (regional development), publication 3/3. Dating summary (phase 2, subdivision into shops, street paving = phase 5 of Upper Embolos): range 576–614, midpoint 595, class Cs3 (associative, phase of development), Cs7 (inscription in situ) Cs5 (catch-all masonry, including spolia use), z (regional development), publication 3/3. Dating summary (occupation of shops): range 576– 612.5, midpoint 594.25, class Cs3 (associative, phase of development), Cs7 (inscription in situ) Cs5 (catch-all masonry, including spolia use), Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3.

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters I count the porticoes on both sides of the Upper Embolos S of the Arch of Hercules in this phase 4–5 as together representing a colonnaded street, and they are entered into the main text as such. 13ASI Ephesus (Embolos, portico of an unconnected phase, probably of same time as phase 3 or 4): On the east side middle section of Embolos between Nymphaeum Traiani and the Baths of Scholastica was a short portico entirely made out of reused material (most noticeable in the stylobate, where they are very badly-sorted), very heterogeneous in appearance down to foundations, with use of crowning elements to support bases of columns. The surviving columns include two grey granite and one white limestone / marble examples. Some impost blocks are stored here on the road, but it is not certain they belonged to the portico. Well-built ‘shops’, of (usually two) courses of brick and (one of) rubble, are set behind the portico: L. Lavan site observations April 2013. The portico is ca. 3 m wide here, measuring roughly off plan of H. Thür, “Zur Kuretenstraße von Ephesos—Eine Bestandsaufnahme der Ergebnisse aus der Bauforschung”, in Neue Forschungen zur Kuretenstraße von Ephesos. Akten des Symposiums für Hilke Thür vom 13. Dezember 2006 an der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, edd. S. Ladstätter et al. (AForsch 15 = DenkschrWien 382) (Vienna 2009) 9–2823 fig. 1. This figure also shows the plan of the ‘shops’, which is not straightforward. There are 4 entrances onto the portico from the building, with at least 2 entrances entering into an interconnected unit, which had two further rooms behind it. The other two entrances lead onto deeper one-room units, where the rear wall has not been established. In short, the plan as we have it is not typically one of shops, though a stone bench is visible in one of the ‘back rooms’, a typical feature of some shops: L. Lavan site observation June 2013. The relationship to the well-laid paving of reused blocks of Embolos is lost here. It is less well-built than the eastern portico further up the Embolos, so it is probably later. It seems more likely to date close to the time when the statue bases (mainly of Victories) were erected in phase 4 in front of the latter portico, on a heterogeneous spolia support bench, a phase which probably equates with the final occupation of the shops, in the late 6th c. to 7th c. Alternatively our short portico might date a little earlier in the 6th c., in phase 3, as the masonry of the short portico shops is identical to that in the larger eastern portico, which was also built / rebuilt sometime in the 6th c. Finally, it is worth noting that this portico is not quite so badly built as the portico south-west of the Gate of Hercules. Although I did not measure them, the columns appear to be about 3 m in height from studying my photos: L. Lavan site observation 2005.

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Dating summary: range 576–614, midpoint 595, class Cs3 (associative, phase of development), Cs5 (catch-all masonry, including spolia use), z (regional development), publication 3/3. Poor. 13ASI Ephesus (Upper Embolos, portico of unconnected phase, probably the same time as phase 1 or 2, repaired in Late Antiquity): South of the Nymphaeum of Trajan there is also a very short portico, with some reused materials, which lies between the gap (of only 3 intercolumniations), between the nymphaeum and the north end of the eastern portico of the Upper Embolos that runs up to the Gate of Hercules, which has phases in both 2 and 3 of the main sequence outlined above. This is a very short portico, with only two columns, flanked by end walls, and there is little about it which suggests a late antique date. There appears to be very little reuse in its limestone steps, white marble Attic bases or grey granite columns. Without actually going inside, I observed (from my photos) well-built walls without visible reused material and with relieving arches set within them, unlike any shop or portico back walls I have seen in late antique constructions in Ephesus. Nevertheless, the top step of the portico leans against a visibly damaged column base. This suggests the structure might have been repaired in Late Antiquity, sometime after the mid 3rd c., (when reused material and ungainly aesthetic architectural practices begin) and before the end of investment in civic architecture after the Persian invasion of 614. Its plan can be seen on C. Roueché, “The image of Victory: new evidence from Ephesus”, in Mélanges Gilbert Dagron (TravMém 14) (Paris 2002) (527–46) 529 fig. 2. From this, I measured a width from the back wall to the streetside front of stylobate of 6 m and a length of 8.4 m. In front of each of the columns and the side walls is a late statue emplacement (so 4 in total) of which one statue monument (of Damocharis), still has its base: see appendix H7. The dating is probably Early Imperial due to lack of reused material and distinctive high-quality construction. I leave this here, however, to assist the wider understanding of the Embolos. Dating summary (for repair): range 250–614, midpoint 432, class Cs7 (reused material), z (regional development), publication (via my site observations) 3/3. 13ASI Ephesus (Upper Embolos, road repaving, unconnected to major late antique phases): On the west side of the road, north of the Gate of Hercules, there is a strip of paving ca. 1 m wide that has been re-laid rather badly, without selecting blocks well or trying to make them fit, in contrast to the adjacent paving. It is later than the first phase of the west portico (north of the Gate) and other phase 1b late road paving of the Embolos, so should date to after 410 (see above and appendix F7a, for dating of paving on the basis

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of statue monuments incorporated within it), but we know nothing else of its relationships. It likely indicates the laying of, or repair to, a water pipe. Dating summary: range 410–614, midpoint 512, class Cs3 (associative, phase of development), Cs7 (inscription, in situ), z (regional development), publication 3/3. 13ASI Ephesus (Upper Embolos, sidewalk, unconnected to major late antique phases): A sidewalk for the south-east side of the street, south of the Gate of Hercules: pieces of a reused inscribed architrave provide a sidewalk south of and later than / or contemporary with the phase 2 stairs which lead away north from the Gate of Hercules up a minor road. On first view they look like they have been placed here as a stone store for modern excavators but their position, the intact clamps and settings within the rest of the architecture here suggests they were being used as a sidewalk, as the street re-entered an area where there was now traffic (of animals as much as vehicles), beyond the Gate of Hercules. The dating of the sidewalk must be after phase 1, as the staircase dates from after this phase, but it is not certain what period they relate to after this, even if their very messy character suggests phase 4 of the Upper Embolos. Dating summary: range 500–614, midpoint 582, class Cs3 (associative, phase of development), z (regional development), publication 3/3. Poor. 13ASI Ephesus (Clivus Sacer, leading down from Prytaneum) (portico construction with shops and road paving; portico rebuild): This is a one-sided colonnaded street, with only one portico, on the north side, leading from the Upper Agora down to the top of the Embolos. Of dimensions, I have not been able to obtain a good plan, but from a recent small-scale map I was able to establish that the portico from the back wall to roadside of the stylobate seems to be ca. 4 m wide, whereas the road seems to be between 3.5 m and 5 m in width. See the plan of M. Aurenhammer and A. Sokolicek, “The remains of the centuries. Sculptures and statue bases in late antique Ephesus: the evidence of the Upper Agora”, in Archaeology and the Cities of Asia Minor in Late Antiquity, edd. O. Dally and C. Ratté (Kelsey Museum Publication 6) (Ann Arbor 2011) (43–66) p. 47 fig. 2. Of architectural features, the road paving is nearly all reused marble and limestone, except for some sections on the lower part of the street. The reused paving is sometimes well-laid in rows, with some blocks cut to fit; in other sections the blocks have not been re-cut and lie in a very uneven jumble. In a few sections there is a lighter colour of slab that I have not seen elsewhere at Ephesus, which might represent restoration. The upper eastern parts of the street paving are stepped. The portico to the north is of mixed column types, two quarry-ready rough bases and what appears to me Attic bases, one of which

is not a good fit for its (smaller) column. The columns are only slightly different, 3 granite at the top, 8 marble in the middle and 4 granite at the bottom). Ionic capitals can be seen re-erected on one column and on two columns on the ground. Although I did not measure them in any way, the columns appear to be about 3 m in height: L. Lavan site observation 2005. No floor materials for the portico were readily discernible, suggesting that it was of gravel or brick fragments, which can be seen today. In places, where the portico floor is eroded to the height of the road paving, a stone slab paving seems to be visible. The western end of the portico has some stone steps, used to reconcile a height difference, which are of ashlar limestone and do not appear to be reused, in contrast to the adjacent stylobate: L. Lavan site observations April 2013. Of shops, behind the colonnade there seems to be some cellular rooms (only partially visible) of reused rubble, with some fragments of reused architectural elements, and brick bands (one or two brick courses for one of rubble), which look likely to be shops. The floors seem to be in gravel and earth: L. Lavan site observation April 2013. The space available suggests a row of 6 shops (4 entrances seems to be visible in the portico’s rear wall). Only one of them has been excavated, revealing a one-room rectangular unit which appears on a plan published (for example, but also elsewhere) in H. Vetters, “Bericht über die Ausgrabungen in Ephesos in den Jahren 1971/1972”, TürkAD 22 (1975) (127–40) fig. 1 (‘Basilica’). On this plan, the internal dimensions of this unit are ca. 2.5 m deep, hand-measuring from the plan, and an unclear width of probably ca. 5 m (taking a change in orientation in the façade wall as reflecting the beginning of a new unit, although the internal wall behind is not on the plan). Of phasing and dating, there are grounds for suggesting that the portico was not only rebuilt in Late Antiquity from an earlier portico / well-selected materials brought from elsewhere, but that it saw more than one phase of construction within this period. The upper eastern part of the portico mainly has bases supporting the colonnade, which are set at the level of the road paving, although they are sometimes laid on top of reused material. They are covered by rough blocks of conglomerate, which form a kerb to retain the portico floor at a higher level than the column, a level which seems to coincide with the two extant threshold levels in the shops behind. The western lower part of the portico is very different. Here there are no bases and the columns are raised up on a high stylobate, 2 to 4 courses high, of rough reused material. At the extreme western end of the portico, the eastern arrangement reasserts itself, with Attic bases and granite columns, though raised a little on reused blocks, perhaps at the same time as the road was re-laid. Finally, a large scar for a clamp on one column also suggests that it was re-erected at some point. I would

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters propose that there was an Early Imperial portico rebuilt at the same time as the late road paving was laid, which was then rebuilt again at a later date, perhaps along with new shops, in a rougher fashion, with the sidewalk floor at a slightly higher level, as were the shop doors. Based on what can be seen lower down the slope, in the adjacent Upper Embolos and Marble Street, where there were very similar developments, I would suspect that the first event took place in the early 5th c., at the same time the paving of the Upper Embolos was laid (410–36) and that the second event took place at the time of the building of the extant east shops of the Embolos with its portico (576–601), although there is no hard dating to support this. It is possible that the uneven ‘jumble’ section of the paving also dates from the time of the rebuilding of the portico. Of use, one column of the portico has a cross with splayed ends chiselled onto it. One reused block in the centre of the road paving has an iron ring attached, suggesting it might be a manhole cover to access a sewer, though the block is not regular in shape. A few blocks have striations on them, but not many: L. Lavan site observations July 2005 and April 2013. Dating summary (for initial late antique rebuilding of portico and adjacent road paving): range 410–36, midpoint 423, class Cs3 (associative, phase of development), Cs 6 (absolute, inscription in situ), Cs5 (catch-all masonry, including spolia use), publication 3/3. Poor. Dating summary (for rebuilding of portico, plus shops): range ca. 576–601, midpoint 588.5, class z (site development), Cs5 (catch-all masonry, including spolia use), z (regional development), publication 3/3. Poor. 13ASI Ephesus (street on the south side of Upper Agora) (sidewalks; later porticoes on each side): This narrow eastwest street is very unusual. It has, on both sides, what looks like a narrow sidewalk in reused material, which was subsequently completely covered by a very narrow colonnade, the columns of which entirely blocked the passage of pedestrians. The arrangement is very odd and must be purely aesthetic in nature, as the street is narrow, and the impact of adding the colonnade would have been to push people walking along the sidewalk into the roadway: L. Lavan site observation April 2013. Of dimensions, the sidewalks measure ca. 1.15 m wide on south side and ca. 1 m on the north side, and 6.5 m for the roadway (total street width ca. 8.65 m), based on ‘umbrella on photo’ measurements. Of architectural features, the colonnade is composed of mixed elements of reused material. The architectural arrangement of the colonnade is best visible on the southeast and north-west ends of the street, standing over the sidewalk. The road has been disturbed somewhat in the middle by late developments, including blocking up the intercolumniation in the southern portico. Attic bases are

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visible, with one quarry-ready base on the north side of the street near the eastern end. At the west end of the southern portico, there is some use of pedestals with integrated column bases. The columns restored or englobed in situ in later walls are either Doric, or mottled grey-white marble, with grey limestone columns lying on the street. There are some small impost capitals visible, out of context, on the north side of the street, with inscribed crosses as part of their decoration (two each at both the east and west end). Some Ionic, as well as Corinthian, capitals are also visible on the street. These are much smaller than the columns found on this street, but might possibly represent an upper storey window arcade for part of the structure. The stone slabs of the street paving likely date from before the late antique period as they were massive, irregular, loosely fitting, and not reused, unlike much of the rest of the paving of the city which does not have these dimensions. These were often reused, rectangular, and arranged in rows. I did not take any kind of measurements of the columns on the north portico, but two incomplete examples seem to reach 3 m or more: L. Lavan site observations April 2013. Of phasing and dating, there are no criteria available, except for the use of reused material as giving a TPQ of the mid 3rd c. and the first Persian invasions giving a TAQ of 614, as a likely end date for traditional civic monumental investment, given wider urban patterns. The sidewalk and the colonnades logically should date to two different phases. Parts of the sidewalks, especially near the western end, do not seem to contain reused material, whereas the south sidewalk at the eastern end does. This might suggest that an Early Imperial sidewalk was taken over and extended or repaired to give a unified foundation to the very shallow porticoes of this street. The composition of the reused material in the eastern end of the south sidewalk (larger rectangular slabs of grey and white marble / limestone with some visible reuse in the form of missing clamps, closely fit) is similar to parts of the Marble Street sidewalk which I date to 410–36 and might well date from the same period, which would also put the ‘porticoes’ later in date. Dating summary (for both building events: sidewalk and porticoes): range 250–614, midpoint 432, class Cs4 (reused material), z (background regional urban patterns). 13ASI Laodicea ad Lycum (Colonnaded street outside of the ‘East Byzantine Gate’): On the east side of the ‘East Byzantine Gate’, leading away from the city, an area of ca. 20 m by 30 m has been excavated: C. Şimşek, Laodikeia (Laodicea ad Lycum) (Laodikeia Çalişmalari 2) (Istanbul 2013) 97–105 with an excavation area photo on p. 99 fig. 108, a phase plan on p. 101 fig. 111, and a post-excavation photo with limited anastylosis on p. 101 fig. 112. There is also an important photo published on https://turkisharchaeonews.net/sites/tan/files/pictures/sites/laodicea-lycus/laodicea_east_byzantine_gate_05.jpg (last accessed July 2019).

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On early imperial phasing, the best current source is the photo of the area published by turkisharchaeonews.net. This shows that the kerb of the south portico of the later street enclosed two identical limestone square pedestals with integrated quarry-ready column bases, set a few metres apart, so as to support a colonnade. These pedestals are set at the level of the early imperial paving, suggesting that they belong with it and are not-reused. I do not know the dating of this phase of the street. The first late phase on site is the ‘East Byzantine’ Gate, which defines the west side of the excavated area, with two towers, facing outward. According to the excavators, the coins found here show that the connected rampart walls were built at the beginning of the 5th c. This they believe was according to a decision of AD 395–96, although they do not specify where this idea comes from: p. 171. Coins of the mid 4th to early 5th c. were found here, which I suspect relate to stratigraphy post-dating the wall: p. 98. The second late phase is the colonnaded street. Outside the walls, beyond the ‘East Byzantine’ Gate, the area between the roadway and the south tower was filled to create a ‘sidewalk’ on the south side of the road going east, [i.e. after the tower was built]: p. 98. One can see that the ‘sidewalk’ is secondary to the tower on the site photos and on the site plan, and that it has an equivalent on the north side, which is also secondary to the north tower. The excavation photo shows what appears to be an earth-floored sidewalk bounded by a stone kerb on the south side. However, the photo of the site after excavation shows a greater area excavated. To this can be added a photo of turkisharchaeonews.net, cited above. This shows that the kerb of the ‘south sidewalk’, which seems to be made of reused blocks, was set around the two identical limestone square pedestals of the early south colonnade. A non-matching column fragment of limestone or travertine has been re-erected on it. On the north side of the road, roughly in line with the north ‘sidewalk’ kerb, a column has been re-erected but it is not based on any kind of emplacement. Everything suggests that we do not have sidewalks here, but rather a portico for a colonnaded street, which replaced an earlier colonnaded street, that existed prior to the construction of the gate. This would give us a colonnaded street of dimensions as follows, hand-measuring off the plan, south to north, taking the projecting towers as marking the line of the portico back walls: south portico ca. 6 m, roadway ca. 8 m, and north portico ca. 4.5 m. Thus, we seem to have a colonnaded street re-established beyond the gate, after or at the same time as the ‘East Byz’ Gate but before the earthquake of 494, on which see below. This colonnaded street used the existing Early Imperial paving and had earth-floored porticoes, as far as I can see from the photos. It likely both porticoes followed the route of earlier

colonnades, although this can only be proved for the south portico. The third late phase is one of decay. It is not clear if the colonnaded street was ever finished, or if it rapidly decayed. On the north side of the excavated area, they removed the [north] portico floor and filled it with debris: p. 98. The fourth late phase came, according to the excavators, after the earthquake of 494, when the dump area north of the road was filled up to the portico level and reused. The gate was rebuilt after the earthquake of 494. A vault was added to the north portal of the gate and a marble block was put in front of it to close this passage to traffic: p. 98. [There is a lighter area of reused grey stone in the middle of the gate which likely relates to this phase]. This phase is visible on the phase plan (marked as a green colour) with a number of walls being created. These includes the rear wall of the south portico, extending east away from the south tower of the gate and also a similar wall on the north portico. This all looks like a rebuilding of the colonnaded street. The same phase map shows that behind the north portico is a parallel wall which looks like it might define a shop, although there is no threshold in the back wall of the north portico. The north portico is also closed in one place by a transverse wall, although this does not look to be part of a wider encroaching structure. On the post-excavation site photo the area seems easier to understand, as more walls have been excavated. It seems like we have a complex with a number of rooms, established both behind and within the portico. A second transverse wall is visible in the portico, with a large portal through it. Finally, an extension of the portico wall is visible that is not aligned with the previous one. This all suggests that the north portico area was rebuilt in a rather haphazard way, with some elements of the portico being still visible, but partially subdivided. The rooms here do not look like regular cellular shops, although this might be the case, if more of the area was excavated. The area was kept in use until another earthquake at the time of emperor Phocas (AD 601–10): p. 98. The fifth? late phase, between the two earthquakes, saw the creation of an open space (perhaps the spolia paved area in the photo fig. 108) in front of the gate which was used as an area to manage spolia—to carry architectural columns to other places in the city: p. 98. Quite when this occupation came to an end I do not know, but the city does not seem to be densely inhabited after the reign of Phocas, according to the excavators, a TAQ likely based on finds. Overall, it seems that we have a number of phases which are still imperfectly understood by the excavators. There is clearly a late construction of the colonnaded street after 395, which was partially damaged prior to 494 on the north side, when the street was reinstated, although the north portico was not entirely restored. Dating evidence from this relies on site-wide earthquake theories for 494 and the

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters time of Phocas. The dating of the gate seems most likely to depend on coin finds and an extrapolation from a text, unless there is an inscription for the city wall that I have not seen. I will use the coin finds as providing a loose contextual date of the city wall of the whole of the period 387– 5–412.5 (late 4th to early 5th c.), because I have not seen a list of the individual finds. I treat the earthquake dating as provisional, as I have not seen diagnostic evidence from the site of earthquake damage which might support such a site-wide hypothesis. For a discussion of the earthquakes of AD 494 and of 602–610 at Laodicea, see the entry on Syria Street in appendix C3. Dating summary (construction of rampart and gate): range 387.5–412.5, midpoint 400, class Cs8 (contextual coins), publication 2/3. Dating summary (construction of late colonnaded street): range 387.5–494, midpoint 440.75, class Cs8 (contextual coins), Cs2 (catch-all, earthquake), publication 2/3. Dating summary (phase of decay): range 387.5–494, midpoint 440.75, class Cs8 (contextual coins), Cs2 (catchall, earthquake), publication 2/3. Dating summary (partial restoration of colonnaded street): range 494–610, midpoint 552, Cs2 (catch-all, earthquake), publication 2/3. Dating summary (open space created, ?spolia workshop): range 602–610, midpoint 606, Cs2 (catch-all, earthquake), publication 2/3. 13ASI Laodicea ad Lycum (Syria Street): Recent excavations, since around 2005, have uncovered a massive stretch (most of its 904 m length) of an east-west colonnaded street which the excavators call the ‘Syrian Street’ or Decumanus, extending from the Syria Gate to the junction with Stadium Street (Cardo) in the city centre. The most detailed publication seems to be C. Şimşek, Laodikeia (Laodicea ad Lycum) (Laodikeia Çalışmarları 2) (Istanbul 2013) 112–25, which I had some difficulty reading due to my limited Turkish. An English summary is available in C. Şimşek, “Urban planning of Laodikeia on the Lykos in the light of new evidence”, Landscape and History in the Lykos Valley: Laodikeia and Hierapolis in Phrygia edd. C. Şimşek and F. D’Andria (Cambridge 2017) 1–52. From tourist photos viewed by me (via Google Images in June 2013), there seems to be some original paving, but also large amounts of reused paving, plus colonnades with reused non-matching architectural elements that have now been re-erected. I have not been able to visit the site in good conditions (I was not permitted to take photos when I went in 2005). Of dimensions, the roadway measures 7.3 m wide, and its porticoes range from 3.7 m to 4.3 m: Şimşek (2017) 10–11. This suggests a street with maximum dimensions from portico back wall to portico back wall of 15.9 m.

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Of the porticoes, they are separated from the roadway by one or two steps and have shops behind them, on which I have no detail: Şimşek (2017) 10–11. Of the architectural features of the porticoes, considerable variety is exhibited. They were originally built in the Doric order, but the late colonnades included bases and capitals of Doric, Ionic or Composite orders taken from different buildings of the Early Imperial period: Şimşek (2017) 10–11. The column heights between the Caracalla Nymphaeum and the tetrapylon, are 3.8 m to 3.85 m. This section used Attic Ionic capitals, and statue bases cut into cylindrical shape to use as column bases / pedestals. The columns of the two porticoes were given Composite and Corinthian capitals, some of which were early Byzantine new cut capitals, imitating those of the gate head. These capitals features crosses within their decoration. From the tetrapylon until the ‘East Byzantine Gate’, the columns are all shorter than the previous measurement. They were crowned by brick arcades. On the entire section from the ‘East Byzantine Gate’ to the tetrapylon, all the porticoes had piers then 2 columns alternating: Şimşek (2013) 121. I was able to confirm from a variety google images photos by tourists that the capitals in the second section from the tetrapylon to the Caracalla Nymphaeum were also of the same nature as the first: L. Lavan observations 2019 based on photos of the 2010s. My description: The columns are of unequal heights in places, which have been compensated by the use of occasional pedestals. The most interesting part is the eastern section between the tetrapylon and the gate, where two columns alternate with large piers carrying impost blocks. The columns (as reconstructed by the excavators) are grey marble on the north side and white limestone on the south side, though they are of different sizes, compensated with quarry-ready bases of differing heights. The stylobate of the south side at least is made of reused blocks, making the whole ensemble look late antique. Impost capitals (indicating the presence of an arcade) look to be new-cut with simple mouldings and no finely-carved elements. The piers are of uneven heights but this is because the anastylosis is partly incorrect. In a few places, the rebuilt piers do reach high enough to match the height of the column capitals. Critically, close to the ‘East Byzantine Gate’ a collapsed pier with its impost block is still in situ, which seems to show that the pier imposts did indeed match the height of the capitals of the columns. The western section, from the tetrapylon to the Caracalla Nymphaeum sees a reappearance of the piers separated by two columns, but only in one section, of three piers separated in each case by two columns, on the north side, the rest being a simple colonnade of columns, on both sides of the street.

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Of the portico floors, patches of opus sectile and mosaic pavements can be seen in places: Şimşek (2017) 11. Images of small fragments of these floors are published in Şimşek (2013) 122 fig. 146 [geometric mosaic], and 123 fig. 147 [opus sectile]. The mosaic is of interlocking black circles on a white ground with orange colour in the overlapping segments, with black crosses with flared ends and other black shapes sitting in the centre of each circle. The opus sectile is very odd, being composed of large slabs of ?one type of marble laid in rows to form square frames, into which small square pieces of poorly jointing marble (again of ?one type) have been arranged in rows that are sometimes irregular, sometimes regular, set in a diagonal grid pattern or a perpendicular grid pattern, in relation to the largeslab frames, alongside the presence of some other shapes. This unusual opus sectile paving extends to Stadium Street: p. 129 fig. 153, on which see below. Of the road paving, reused slabs seem to be especially concentrated on the north side of the street near to the Severan Nymphaeum and Temple A, as seen in Şimşek (2013) 79 fig. 77, 115 fig. 129, 149 fig. 183. The (long-distance) photos show the paving as generally, but not always, rectangular blocks arranged roughly, without cutting to fit. Reused slabs are particularly prevalent in the capping of the sewer: L. Lavan observations 2019 based on tourist photos on Google Earth of the 2010s. However, the excavator reports that after the 494 earthquake, they used really thick mortar on the road and they used it until the time of another earthquake: p. 121. Of sewers, that in the middle of Syria Street is 1.2 m wide and 1.85 m deep, with drains entering the sewer on both sides. In late times, the sewer was narrowed on the east side. Manholes were created to clean the sewer in the late period with lids on the roadway and holes for rainwater [coming off the road]: Şimşek (2013) 121. At one point, a statue was used as a sewer lid: p. 119 fig. 139. Terracotta pipes were laid from the shops to the sewer for dirty water in the same late period: p. 121. The shops can be seen in plan on p. 276 fig. 371. Given the fragility of underground pipes, and reused material from the pre-earthquake street used to repair the sewer and also the portico walls and superstructure (see below) I associate these works with the same works as seen in the porticoes of the street. Of shops, on the east side of propylon there are shops connected to Syria Street. As there is no information about the date of these shops I have not included them in this study. The doors of the shops were blocked when the city was abandoned. Coins and ceramics date from the first quarter of the 4th c. to the first quarter of the 5th c. Here were found many amphorae, for selling wine and oil: Şimşek (2013) 141. Of phasing and dating, we are told that excavations show the street was used from the Early Roman Imperial

period (1st c. AD) to the reign of Phocas (AD 602–610 AD) [an observation that is presumably based on associative finds, especially of coins]. Furthermore, the street was apparently built in the Doric order, along with the Syria Gate in 84–85, by Domitian’s freedman, Tiberius Claudius Tryphon: Şimşek (2017) 10. The late chronology of the street, which dates its present appearance depends on an earthquake theory. There is certainly evidence of a violent catastrophe, likely an earthquake: columns and capitals of the Early Imperial period were found reused in the portico walls, superstructure, and sewer covers. This is taken to indicate a rebuilding after an earthquake of AD 494 which is described as having hit the city [Earthquake of 494: Guidoboni Catalogo no. 163; Ambraseys Catalogue p. 177]: Şimşek (2017) 11. We cannot know how quickly the rebuilding took place after the earthquake so I will give a range between AD 494 and the end of occupation evidence in the time of Phocas, based on associative finds. We can give the portico floor of the Stadium Street the same date, given the very distinctive common opus sectile pattern and the likely site-wide impact of such an earthquake. According to the excavator, the street was used from 1st c. AD to the time of Phocas, a statement that is likely based on finds: Şimşek (2017) 124. The mortar layer on top of the street should be later than the post-earthquake restoration, as this includes some repairs to the road surface, at least in the form of a well-made cover for the sewer, suitable for use as a road surface. But the chronological limits of this development must remain the same as those of the post-494 earthquake rebuilding, and we do not know when within the period the mortar layer was laid down. Photographs of the street under excavation show colonnade columns fallen down flat in a row, which is a sign of earthquake damage, although it is hard to be certain that this damage occurred during the reign of Phocas: p. 115 fig. 129. Of use, we hear that column capitals, bases, and voussoirs were placed near the doorways of the shops and were used as seats, or cut with different gameboards. The columns and piers of the portico have traces of painted inscriptions on the plaster, alongside engraved inscriptions and crosses: Şimşek (2017) 11. An earlier report notes that graffito writings on the columns, including crosses and Greek writing referring to St. Philip and animal and human figures on the columns, date to after the earthquake of AD 494: Şimşek (2013) 121. Just west of the tetrapylon in the north colonnade, a tethering hole is visible cut into a column. There are also other holes cut higher up columns that might relate to very light wooden structures / brackets being attached to columns but these are not very regular. These details were observed from a variety of Google Images photos by tourists: L. Lavan observations 2019 based on photos of the 2010s.

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters A general note on earthquakes: At Laodicea, much of the chronology depends on two major earthquakes: one of AD 494 and another occurring sometime during the reign of Phocas (602–610). The 494 earthquake is known from literary sources: Guidoboni Catalogo no. 163; Ambraseys Catalogue p. 177. The earthquake is recorded as having destroyed Laodicea and others in the neighbourhood by Marcellinus Comes in AD 494. The 602–610 earthquake is not attested by literary sources and not in the catalogue of Ambraseys (I could not access Guidoboni to check this one). Archaeological evidence for earthquakes is present at Laodicea: for example, on the Syria Street many architectural fragments, columns, and capitals of the Early Imperial street were found reused in the portico walls, superstructure, and sewer covers of the late antique restoration, suggesting that a violent catastrophe occurred here. Excavated levels of the adjacent North Agora point to a destruction and hiatus in the coin finds, which were rich from the 3rd to 5th c. Subsequent occupation levels include coin, hoards of Justinian I (527–65) and Justin II (565–78). There is also at least one example of diagnostic earthquake destruction within the North Agora, from the east portico, where a row of columns has fallen over flat, prior to the post-earthquake occupation described above, dating indicators of which are 6th c. The final earthquake of 602–610 is supported by coin finds in the East Byzantine Gate area, and it can be connected to diagnostic evidence of an earthquake revealed on Syria Street where the late colonnades have fallen over flat, in a row. Elsewhere on site the two earthquakes of 494 and 602–610 are often invoked, but diagnostic earthquake evidence is not always provided, and it is not clear if evidence exists to date a given destruction to these earthquakes. Both earthquakes were clearly very powerful destructive events, and it is reasonable to expect them to have been manifested in damage to buildings across sites. However, the rebuilding and repair needed after such events would certainly have taken a long time, perhaps decades, to complete. Dating summary (Syria Street porticoes rebuilding, paving, and sewer works): range 494–610, midpoint 552, class Cs2 (catch-all other, earthquake), Cs3 (associative, finds), publication 2/3. Dating summary (Syria Street portico paving): range 494–610, midpoint 552, class Cs2 (catch-all other, earthquake), Cs3 (associative, phase of development), Cs 3 (associative, finds), publication 2/3. Dating summary (Syria Street mortar surface): range 494–610, midpoint 552, class Cs2 (catch-all other, earthquake), Cs3 (associative, finds), publication 2/3. 13ASI Laodicea ad Lycum (Stadium Street): Stadium Street is a north-south colonnaded street, which has been excavated for around 200 m, south of its junction with Syria Street. Half way down the excavated section, Stadium Street is

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joined on the west side by the east-west colonnaded street Ephesus Street, facing Nymphaeum B, which stands of the east side of Stadium Street: C. Şimşek, Laodikeia (Laodicea ad Lycum) (Laodikeia Çalişmalari 2) (Istanbul 2013) 125– 130 with small scale plan on p. 127 fig. 150 and large scale plan on p. 134 fig. 161. It is more ruined than Syria Street. Apart from some columns the stones of this roadway were ruined and used as a source of lime: p. 125. It experiences a considerable number of late antique modifications. Of dimensions, the late antique condition of the street varies along its length. Hand-measuring off the site plan on fig. 161, I get the following, the south half of the excavated section has a west portico of 5.2 m from back wall to front of stylobate, a roadway of 7.5 m, and an east portico of 5.1 m, giving a total street width of 18.5 m. The north half of the excavated section has a west portico of 5.2 m, a roadway of 6.9 m, and an east portico of 4.9 m, with a total street width of 18.2 m. Of paving, the road way is made of very big travertine blocks placed side by side: p. 126. Of porticoes, on the east and west sides of Stadium Street, there are two step stairs made of travertine. The porticoes are made up of a stylobate carrying columns and piers. On the west portico stylobate, there are rectangular piers of 1 m by 1.8 m or 1.2 m by 1 m, separated by 10.9 m to 11.6 m: p. 128. Between these piers there are three columns. The column gap is 2.2 m to 2.8 m [the report does not say if it is intercolumniation). Columns measured were 3.22 m, 2.27 m and 3.15 m, with a few whole columns / not all whole columns [if I understood correctly]. The colonnade height where it could be reconstructed was of 3.9 m made up of a base 0.25 m, capital 0.43 m and column 3.22 m giving total colonnade height of 3.9 m: p. 129. The west portico carried grey columns with white and possible new cut late capitals in the northern part, very similar or identical to those on the east-west Syria Street. The west portico seems to have carried brick arcading, from the collapsed remains now protected on the street surface, in the southern part: L. Lavan site observations 2019 based on tourist photos of 2015 on https://www.flickr.com/photos/carolemage/31957861892/ (last accessed July 2019). The east portico seems to be composed of a limestone stylobate carrying Attic-Ionic limestone bases and travertine columns as re-erected by the excavators, the components of which do not look reused or late. Some parts of impost blocks and crowning elements of a statue base also have been placed on the portico in one place: L. Lavan site observations 2019 based on the same photos. Of portico paving, the floor was initially in opus caementicum then later in opus sectile. Some of the shops have travertine paving in front of them, some in mosaic: p. 126. The opus sectile is composed of a variety of basic geometric white-grey marble tiles arranged locally in a number

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of ways. There are some large rectangular pieces, laid irregularly in rows, forming rough squares, within which there are many fields of much smaller regular patterns, set all around a core square stone: e.g. a grid of small squares placed diagonally in relation to the large rectangular pieces, or the same thing placed in alignment with the large pieces, or areas of squares surrounded by rhomboids, or areas of hexagons with diamonds: p. 129 fig. 153. Of decorative monuments, between the Nymphaeum B and the west entrance of the Central Baths, on Stadium Street, were found two piers of travertine, 1.25 m by 3 m and 0.22 m to 0.24 m high. Here, the excavators they found four curved architrave fragments, showing the existence of an arch. No information is provided about the date of this structure: p. 126. From the area plan on p. 134, fig. 161, this arch seems to be situated directly opposite Nymphaeum B, on the west side of the street aligned with Ephesus Street. Of water pipes, many terracotta pipes were installed to carry water to Nymphaeum B, which seem to be an arrangement established after the earthquake of AD 494: p. 128. Of sewers, we have some details, though not of date. The roadway becomes higher from north to south. With the help of topography, waste water from shops and houses and public buildings came to the sewers and flowed north easily: p. 126. The road sewer measures 0.6 m wide and 1.6 m deep, with its base and side walls made of travertine blocks. On each side of the roadway were waste water pipes coming to the sewer, made of terracotta pipes: p. 128. Of phasing, there seem to be four main architectural stages. (i) In the first phase, the width of the roadway was 4.9 m: p. 126. (ii) In the second phase, probably in the 3rd c., the street was redesigned, enlarging it a bit. This enlargement narrowed the porticoes at the sides and some of the steps leading to the portico were removed, to the east by 1.6 m and to the west by 1.10 m to 1.80 m. After this new arrangement the roadway became 6.10 m, 6.43 m, 7 m and 7.5 m wide, in different places. This development made the Stadium Street roadway into a similar width as that of the Syria Street. The irregularity in these measurements is apparently caused by the impact of earthquakes, getting wider going north to south: p. 126. However, the site plan on p. 134 fig. 161 shows that this measurement variation is caused by different rebuilding not by subsidence. (iii) In the third phase, after the 494 earthquake, at the portico crossing point of Stadium Street and Ephesus Street, marble blocks were laid secondarily on the roadway to raise it up by 0.5 m to create a platform. The report tells us that the reason for this platform was to hide some drainage pipes set just in front of nymphaeum here, which implies that the whole width of the Stadium Street was covered by a platform at this point. There was a height different between the pipes and the roadway level, so a flat surface was

made here to cover them. There is no detail in the reports on whether the edges of the platform had a step or not or if they blocked the Stadium Street to carts. The side part of the platform which opened onto the Ephesus Street, was 1.5 m in height, so stairs were built to bridge the difference. Note that on p. 135, work in Ephesus Street connected to this development are given a date within the period 550– 612.5, without evidence being presented for this more specific dating range. I will not therefore transfer the dating over, as it might represent two subphases associated with different dating evidence. (iv) Probably at this time the last rebuilding of the west portico was done, and likely the porticoes were given opus sectile, given the development of very similar porticoes and floorings in Syria Street in the post-494 period. We also learn that the south side of the back wall of Ephesus Street was apparently rebuilt at the same time as Stadium Street: p. 135, which I will not adopt here. It is, however, difficult to see this on the site plan, where the back wall of the south section of Stadium Street is the same colour but different to those of Ephesus Street. Indeed, it looks likely, from the arrangement of walls, and the shading of elements of adjacent Nymphaeum B, that the back wall of the south section of Stadium Street is later than those of Ephesus Street. This colouring implies that both porticoes were rebuilt (likely after 494) but that only the west portico received new colonnade elements (piers, columns, capitals etc.). So it seems that phase (iii) and the different elements in phase (iv) are all part of the same rebuilding of the street, which allows the works to qualify as a comprehensive rebuilding of the monumental street, as there are two or more elements rebuilt at the same time. With the dating breadth used below it does not matter if some of the portico floors were put in later. Of dating, the excavator notes that at the crossing of the street with Syria Street, by the Caracalla Nymphaeum, the primary construction of Stadium Street dates to the time of Domitian and probably AD 84–85. This is apparently based on the Doric architectural materials and on ceramics, although no reason is given for the date of AD 84–85: p. 125. There is no evidence given to support the dating of the second phase removal of the portico steps / widening of the street to the 3rd c. The third phase water pipes by Nymphaeum B apparently date to after the earthquake of AD 494: p. 128. We must accept that we are in the presence of an earthquake theory applied widely across the site, which does invite some confidence as a phase of development due to the unifying nature of a new water system, although far from all of the structural elements of the post494 repair of the street can be confidently tied together from the information presented in the report. Stadium Street was apparently used from the 2nd c. to the middle of the 7th c., until the abandonment of Laodicea, a statement which is probably based on finds, likely coins, although

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters these are not specified: p. 126. This gives us a TAQ for the third phase. However, after the Persian invasion of 614, secular civil building is not known in Asia Minor, so I will treat this date as the TAQ. We cannot assume that the street was rebuilt immediately after 494, which only provides us with a TPQ. For the earthquakes of AD 494 and of 602–610 at Laodicea, see the entry on Syria Street in appendix C3. Dating summary (phase 2, narrowing of porticoes / removal of steps): range 200–300, midpoint 250, class 0, publication 1/3. Poor. Dating summary (phase 3, rebuild of west portico and platform installed alongside water pipes on street): range 494–614, midpoint 554, class Cs2 (catch-all, earthquake), Cs3 (associative, coins?), z (regional development), publication 2/3. 13ASI Laodicea ad Lycum (Ephesus Street): This street is described by its excavator in C. Şimşek, Laodikeia (Laodicea ad Lycum) (Laodikeia Çalişmalari 2) (Istanbul 2013) 131–36 with a plan on p. 134 fig. 161 and two reconstructed sections (of the arch and of the south portico) on p. 135 fig. 162. Of the architectural form, this is a short porticoed street ending in a triple-portalled arch of piers on the east side. On both sides of the street, orientated in an east-west direction, are pools, running in front of arcaded porticoes with shops in their back walls. The road is paved in marble slabs: http://laodikeia.pau.edu.tr/tr/sayfa/yapilar-2 (last accessed July 2019). Both porticoes are supported by piers, with the north portico piers being irregular in size and spacing from what I can see on the site plan, whereas those of the south portico are regularly-sized and regularlyspaced. The two porticoes are not identical in plan either, with the north portico extending into the Stadium Street roadways for a few metres, even a stone width or so beyond the portico of that street, which it blocks, whereas the south portico leads into the portico of the same street, leading off to the south. Of dimensions, the width of the Ephesus Street is 30.6 m, including porticoes: http://laodikeia.pau.edu .tr/tr/sayfa/yapilar-2 (last accessed July 2019). The east portico seems to measures ca. 5 m and the west portico ca. 6 m, hand-measuring roughly off the plan of C. Şimşek, Laodikeia (Laodicea ad Lycum) (Laodikeia Çalişmalari 2) (Istanbul 2013) p. 134 fig. 161, leaving a roadway of ca. 19.6 m. Of the monumental arched entrance, the structure is 25 m by 14 m in size and connected with the west portico of Stadium Street. When one considers the width of the roadway and the extant piers, it must have had three arch portals: pp. 135–36 (as on fig. 162). Parts of the piers were recovered but because of illegal excavations and stone quarrying, other blocks were very mixed up. There are marble voussoirs with geison sima, base / pedestal blocks, and Corinthian capitals found here: pp. 135–36. [It is odd not to see such Corinthian capitals featuring on the

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reconstructed sections of the arch or the porticoes.] On the portico and monumental entrance, all decoration belongs to the 2nd to 3rd c. Excavators found an inscription of the style of the 2nd c. describing how under the governorship of Dio and Centauros the emperor and people were honoured: pp. 135–36. This suggests that at least the first phase of the complex is 2nd c., and it is not clear how much of the extant porticoes actually date to period 2. Here it is likely that the phasing is not fully worked out, but also I must confess that I have not been able to fully understand all of the Turkish of the report here. Of decoration, the reconstructed sections show a number of statue monuments set between arcades. On p. 133 is described a statue base of the 2nd c. reused in the 4th– 5th c. with p. 132 fig. 159. As far as I could see, no information is provided about why the reuse of the statue base is dated in this manner. Of phasing and dating, there are several phases dating within our period, from the 3rd c. to 565–612. (i) The extant arrangement seems to date from Period 2, when the street and south and north porticoes were built, dating from the second half of the 3rd c. and beginning of the 4th c., specifically in the period AD 253–305: p. 135. From what I have observed above, I think it likely that this phase includes especially the north portico, although it might have encompassed a rebuilding of the south portico and the roadway. It does not seem to include the monumental arch, which seems to be 2nd c. and does not anticipate the extant porticoes, although it likely originally stood at the entrance to a monumental street. (ii) Period 3, in the second half of the 4th c. and beginning of the 5th c. saw pools established on either side of the roadway in front of the portico and a pipe system (no indication if it was for clean or dirty water): p. 135. The pipes are described as being specifically later 4th c.: p. 135. (iii) Period 4, between the second half of the 6th c. and the beginning of the 7th c., saw installation of a raised platform at the entrance area of Stadium Street (at the junction with Ephesus Street). As part of these works?, north-south walls were constructed in front of the piers [of the arch on the east side?], closing arched entrances and the stairs: p. 135. This is a lot narrower dating range than is given for these works on p. 128, where the platform is linked to pipes laid after the AD 494 earthquake. I will not therefore transfer over the wider dating to these works, as there may be slight differences in their chronology. We are also told that some stairs and one of two entrances was removed, specifically in the period 565–612: p. 135. (iv) Elsewhere, we learn that the back wall of the south portico was rebuilt at the same time as the porticoes of Stadium Street, which can be placed in the period 494–610 based on the very similar type of works (porticoes of piers and columns alongside opus sectile floors) p. 135. It seems likely that this phase dates after the site’s

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period 3 but before period 4, but we cannot be certain of this. I was not able to understand, from reading the report, what the quite precise dating of period 2, or the other periods depended on, but I suspect it relates to associated coin finds, give the nature of the dates. For a discussion of the earthquakes of AD 494 and of 602–610 at Laodicea, see the entry on Syria Street in appendix C3. Dating summary (rebuilding of street): range 253–305, midpoint 279, class 0, publication 1/3. Poor. Dating summary (pools and pipes): range 350–412.5, midpoint 381.25, class 0, publication 1/3. Poor. Dating summary (removal of stairs): range 565–612, midpoint 588.5, class 0, publication 1/3. Poor. Dating summary (back wall of south portico rebuilt): range 494–610, midpoint 552, class Cs2 (catch-all, earthquake), publication 3/3. Dating summary (statue base reused): range 400–600, midpoint 500, class 0, publication 1/3. Poor. 13ASI Aphrodisias (north-south street along west side of basilica): This street, which has been investigated in two trenches, contains much reused material in its stone slab paving, notably Hadrianic imperial decrees. The shops on the east side are secondary to the civil basilica, and the colonnade (which is only present on the west side of the road) is thought to be part of the same development, probably on account of the reused material it contains in the trench adjacent to the South Agora: R.R.R. Smith and C. Ratté, “Archaeological research at Aphrodisias in Caria, 1994”, AJA 100 (1996) (5–33) 17–19 with fig. 10 (plan) and fig. 11 (photo), both of trench SWC8, towards the south end of the main hall of the basilica, whilst fig. 12 (plan) and fig. 13 (photo), both of the ‘Southwest complex, old trench’, at the north end of the basilica. Both trenches are set against the west wall of the basilica, uncovering the shops and street to the west. These plans are repeated in P. Stinson Aphrodisias 7: The Civil Basilica (Wiesbaden 2016) 83 with fig. 43, who discusses the shops on p. 82. Excavations around the tetrastylon in 2002 revealed a further shop on the south-west corner of the basilica, at Stinson relates on p. 82, with a plan on p. 79 fig. 39. Of dimensions, the street’s measurements cannot be fully reconstructed, as the western front wall of the shops is missing. However, the maximum width from the front of the shop walls is ca. 10.5 m, with the roadway being definitely 6.5 m wide, leaving 4 m or so for the west portico, though if the western front shop wall (now missing) was still extant then it would have been narrower. These dimensions, which would have varied slightly as the eastern shop wall is not straight, were measured from the plan of the trench adjacent to the South Agora in Smith and Ratté (1996) 18, fig. 12. In the southern trench (SWC8), a roadway width of 6 m was recorded (p. 17). There is no east portico. Of architectural features, we have no details of the colonnade.

Of paving, in the northern ‘old trench’, where the street joins the South Agora, there are rectangular paving slabs sorted into rows of uneven width, except north of the northern terminus and on the eastern side of the street, where the slabs are irregularly laid and appear from their irregular shapes to be made up of reused materials, that have not been cut to fit, and so exhibit gaps, particularly in the last 6 m from the north end of the street: Smith and Ratté, (1996) 18 fig. 12 (further south there is more regularity with rectangular slabs sorted and closely fitted into rows on the west side of the street, with mason’s marks and no clear evidence of reuse, whilst the east side of the street remains irregular). In the southern trench, p. 17 fig. 10, only the eastern side of the street survives, but here there are larger slabs towards the centre of the road, not laid in rows, and smaller less closely fitting slabs on the east side, without evidence of cutting angles to fit. There are here some very small slabs and large slabs together, suggesting reuse. In the northern ‘old trench’ there is a stone lined drain within the surface of the street which runs north-south through areas with obviously reused paving, following a course that is not entirely straight. Of shops, in the SWC8 trench, two units of the eastern row of rooms set against the basilica have been exposed, only in part, whereas in the ‘old trench’ have been exposed two units including one complete shop. The excavations have revealed that the rooms in the first trench were ca. 4.5 m deep internally, hand-measuring off the plan, whereas those in the ‘old trench’ were ca. 4 m deep and the complete shop here was ca. 5.7 m wide, internally. In the SWC8 trench there seems to be a bench set around the walls of one of the rooms, and perhaps the foundation for a staircase in another room. In the ‘old trench’ row none of the shops have surviving door thresholds blocks. In the 2002 trench the internal depth of the shop seems to be ca. 4.2 m, roughly hand-measuring from the plan. The units were only one room deep. Stinson (2016) 82 notes that there were probably ca. 25 units in all, if the shops were of the same size. Of phasing, it is difficult to be sure how much of the street paving was really renewed at the time of the shop construction, given variations in the style of paving recorded. It is also difficult to be sure that the road paving repairs really were contemporary with the building of the shops. The two areas of construction are at least contiguous spatially, and, on that basis, it is reasonable to treat them as belonging in the same phase. Of dating, Stinson (2016) 82 notes that the coins and ceramics from the shops “indicate occupation and usage from only the fourth century onwards”, not citing any archaeological reports, so presumably drawing on internal archive records. I take this evidence as providing associative evidence for the construction of the shops and by extension the renewed street, in the period of the full 4th c.

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters Of use, a circular gameboard is visible in the plan of the ‘old trench’ on the street paving. Dating summary: range 300–400, midpoint 350, class Cs4 (reused material), Cs3 (associative, finds), publication 2/3. 13ASI Aphrodisias (north-south colonnaded street running south of Tetrapylon): This street has been excavated in different places south from the Tetrapylon, running past the Sebasteion, until the Agora Gate. For a brief report on the northern part of the street: see K.T. Erim, “Recent work at Aphrodisias 1986–1988,” in Aphrodisias Papers. Recent Work on Architecture and Sculpture, edd. C. Roueché and K.T. Erim (Ann Arbor 1990) (9–35) 9–10, with L. Lavan site observation 2003 and 2013. For a rough plan on the northern part of the street see R.R.R. Smith and C. Ratté, “Archaeological research at Aphrodisias in Caria, 1996”, AJA 102 (1998) (225– 50) 226 fig. 1 (a site plan). For reports on the southern part of the street see: B. Yıldırım, “Excavations on the Tetrapylon Street, 2008–9”, Aphrodisias Papers 5: Excavation and Research at Aphrodisias 2006–2012 (JRA Supplement 103) edd. R.R.R. Smith, J. Lenaghan, A. Sokolicek and K. Welch (Portsmouth Rhode Island, 2016) 35–47; E. Öğüş, “Excavations on the Tetrapylon Street, 2010–11”, in the same volume 48–57; A. Sokolicek, “Excavations on the Tetrapylon Street, 2012–14”, Aphrodisias Papers 5: Excavation and Research at Aphrodisias 2006–2012 (JRA Supplement 103) edd. R.R.R. Smith, J. Lenaghan, A. Sokolicek and K. Welch (Portsmouth, Rhode Island 2016) 58–75. N.B. I also offer my own critical reading of the reports, in the light of other sites, suggesting some changes in phasing. Of orientation, the reader should imagine a north-south street that has been investigated for 290 m in 1986, with a major open area excavation for the first 80 m or so, beginning a bit north of the Tetrapylon. This is the ‘N zone’ of the Street. There is then a soil baulk of around 5 m, perhaps a bit more, then a series of trenches dug in 2008–2014 that have opened up a stretch of street for around 90 m, which have been coded with trench names and which appear on a plan in Sokolicek (2016) 58 fig. 4.1. This ‘S zone’ of the street stops at the Sebasteion. Around 100 m south of this, a further hole has been dug in 1986, for ca. 3 intercolumniations in the east portico opposite the Agora Gate. In the ‘S zone’ of the street, the west side is bisected by an Early Imperial niched building that has been suggestively identified as a surveying platform: Sokolicek (2016) 59–65. In the northern half of the street the west portico is also interrupted by the Tetrapylon, actually a monumental propylon (to the temple of Aphrodite to the west), restored in the early 5th c. (see appendix F4). Of architectural form, the street consists of two porticoes, reused street paving [which the recent reports have not noticed] and possible one true ‘sidewalk’ [i.e. pedestrian walkway in front of the east portico] which no longer

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exists. The east portico has a blank back wall, with no doorways. The west portico has occasional doorways in the rear wall, at least in the ‘N zone’. The doorways may represent shops, but there was not a regular cellular row of more than two shops in evidence here, so I prefer not to press this hypothesis: L. Lavan site observation via photos taken by Aoife Fitzgerald 2013, whom I thank. Of dimensions, the street measures an average of 19.5 m from back wall to back wall, divided into a roadway of ca. 8.1 m, with an eastern portico of ca. 3.9 m (from back wall to stylobate front) and a western portico of ca. 7.5 m (from back wall to stylobate front): A. Sokolicek, pers. comm., to whom I am very grateful for this information. [He gives the east portico as ca. 3 m wide in (2016) 65 but this may relate to a short section in the south zone or to a different type of measurement]. The east portico seems to run the full length of the east side of the street from the Tetrapylon to the Sebasteion and beyond, wherever it has been excavated, although the portico sections do vary in style. The west portico does not run along the whole street: it runs south from the Tetrapylon, all the way to the baulk between the north and south zone, which is a length of ca. 45 m, roughly measuring off Google Earth. But in the ‘S zone’ the west portico only runs for some 25 m, from a point 70 m south of the Tetrapylon: A. Sokolicek, pers. comm. Thus, the west flank of the street does not have a portico where it passes the North Agora. Of architectural features, it is best to divide the description into different components. There is a clear difference in the use of material and building parts in the east portico in the course of the colonnade: A. Sokolicek pers. comm. 2015. The west portico in the north zone of the street, running south of the Tetrapylon, was excavated in 1986. Here, the colonnade is composed of quarry-ready pedestals and white marble columns, which in one case support a column and a non-matching capital of unusual undecorated form. In the ‘N zone’, the west portico back wall is built in small pieces of reused masonry divided by a horizontal course of bricks: L. Lavan site observation August 1997 and April 2013. Parts of this portico were probably located on the south side of the baulk, in the north end of the south zone where Yıldırım (2016) 40 reports 2 column bases and parts of the stylobate were in trench NAve08. It seems to have been of only one storey, according to Sokolicek (2016) 75. The west portico in the south zone of the street, close to the Sebasteion, was excavated in 2011 in Trench NAve 11.3. No columns or column bases were preserved and the portico had a dirt floor, initially, which was then covered by a drain: Öğüş (2016) 52–53. The absence of any later explicit floor in the report suggests that a second dirt floor has been missed, especially as this first floor was below the

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level of the final late floor in the east portico opposite. On p. 53 Öğüş seems to imply that the floor level was raised as part of late works: he notes that the establishment of a threshold block leading to a space west of the stoa’s back wall is contemporary with the late antique renovations of the stoa. Yıldırım (2016) 46 notes that the west portico in the south zone had traces of decoration similar to those of the east portico in the same zone: wall plaster and wall mosaics were found mainly on the street or along the colonnade stylobate while window glass was found mainly in the porticoes. However, Sokolicek (2016) 75 says nothing of its decoration, calling it a “simple, one-storey hall”, whilst describing the decoration of the portico opposite. Thus, it is possible that the decorative material in the debris by the west portico actually relates to the east portico alone. The east portico in the north zone is composed of pedestals which sometimes rest on stylobate and sometimes seem to rest on socles that are not part of a stylobate. At the north end (opposite the Tetrapylon) there are two isolated column bases which are very rough and unmeasured, as if they had been reused from an uncut stock of quarry-ready pieces. Capitals are of different stages of finishing, also suggesting reuse. Further down the east portico, (at the south end of the ‘N zone’) are three surviving white limestone columns which seem identical to those of the east portico, also set on ‘quarry ready’ pedestal bases. One of them supports an unusual capital that does not match in colour: L. Lavan site observation 2003 and 2013 plus photo in Yıldırım (2016) 36 fig. 2.1. The east portico in the south zone was built mainly of new-cut material in the north end of the section and of mixed spolia in the south end. One of the columns was taken from the Sebasteion: Sokolicek (2016) 65. The photo on p. 64 fig. 4.9 shows that in the north end of the north zone, trench NAve 13.4 and adjacent trenches of 2008–2011 revealed (from north to S): 3 pedestals, a pier, 3 columns on bases, a T-shaped pier, two columns on bases then two separate piers, then an odd column base. In the south zone (south end) in trench NAve 14.1 a collapsed pier and one column were revealed: Sokolicek (2016) 70 fig. 4.17. The portico was two-storey. The height for the first storey was ca. 4 m, plus 0.5 m of entablature, and the second storey was ca. 3 m plus 0.5 m of entablature. The columns in the first / ground storey of the east portico are ca. 3 m, with pedestals of 0.6–0.7 m (northern zone) or bases (southern zone) of ca. 0.25 m (reused Early Imperial) or 0.3 m (late antique), with no capitals in the south zone, but some capitals in the north zone (ca. 40 cm): A. Sokolicek pers. comm. 2015. This gives a total colonnade height here of up to 4.4 m in the north zone. The east portico in the south zone, by the Sebasteion, has columns of about 4 m with no capitals but is arcaded,

the collapsed colonnade with brick arcade having fallen into the street: A. Sokolicek pers. comm. 2015. The ground floor back wall of the east portico, as excavated in the south zone, was decorated with simple monochrome wall-painting, as shown by fragments: Sokolicek (2016) p. 65. The ground level had an earth floor, associated with a schist-covered drain connected to the main drain below the paved street: Yıldırım (2016) 46. In one short section, in Trench NAVE 10.1–3, the ground floor was covered in small white marble and black slate checked opus sectile laid diagonally against the portico, with tiles of 27 cm by 27 cm: Öğüş (2016) 49. This was revealed by Trench NAve 11.1 to be a room in the stoa measuring 3 m by 3 m. Above the paved floor were found three ornamental copper-alloy doorknobs with attached iron handles, suggesting a privileged area: p. 51. The east portico opposite the Agora Gate has unfluted Ionic columns. Two (Ionic) capitals were recovered which feature volutes and mouldings of a “totally non-classical character”, which the excavator Erim believed to be 5th or early 6th c. in date: Erim (1990) 11–13 with 12 fig. 4, which shows a continuous stone stylobate on which the column bases are set. The road paving runs right up to the stylobate with no gap visible. The east portico in the south zone is unique of these porticoes in having an upper storey [in other cases it may have existed but has not been detected]. It probably also extended to the north zone [see below], although here the details are less certain. Definite traces of the upper storey have found in the south zone. Its characteristics can be traced from the way in which the debris fell onto the street in the final destruction and from the presence of drainage pipes set into piers coming from the upper storey in Trench NAve 09.4 (Yıldırım (2016) 46) and in Trench NAve 13.4 (Sokolicek (2016) 69). The latter of these was connected to the large street sewer and contained incrustations of calcium phosphate (commonly present in urine), implying that here was a latrine in the upper storey: Sokolicek (2016) 69. The destruction layer contained roof-tiles, bricks, marble floor-tiles and revetment from the upper storey: Sokolicek (2016) 65–66. Remains of iron pins and clamps to attach the marble revetment were found in some cases close to mortared masonry piers of the east colonnade: Yıldırım (2016) 46. A large amount of burnt wood was found: this seems to have made up the greater part of the architecture of the structure apart from marble bases and columns. Burnt tree-remains suggest pine or cedar beams joined together with nails: Sokolicek (2016) 65–66. Quite how much of this was supporting the tile roof or other parts of the superstructure is uncertain. The remains of a brick arcade were found on the street, along with mortar and small stones from the wall above the arches. The arch found in

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters 2012–14 fell from the ground floor arcade, as it was found next to the stylobate whereas another one recorded in a notebook of 1986 shows fragments of a brick arch found near the Tetrapylon that came from the first floor (i.e. second level). Furthermore, Sokolicek’s photo on Trench NAve 14.1 ((2016) 66 fig. 4.12) shows two fallen arches, one by the stylobate and also a second labelled ‘arch-wall’, about 5 m out onto the street paving. The second arch undoubtedly comes from the upper / second level, like that found in 1986, and the first from the lower level. Thus, S. is correct, based on his own excavations, to criticise the reconstruction drawing of the street published in his report on p. 67 fig. 4.13 which shows the lower storey with a flat architrave and only the upper storey with an arcade. Rather, both levels were arcaded in the final architectural arrangement of the east portico. The architectural features of the east portico’s upper storey can be discerned from the debris found on the street. In the north zone, 18 pilaster capitals featuring erotes had been found in the 1980s and published by S. Dillon “Figured pilaster capitals from Aphrodisias”, AJA 101.4 (1997) 731–769, with 745 fig. 10 for find-spots showing their close relationship to the east portico. In the south zone, Late Roman cornice blocks, double-engaged columns and their pedestal bases, pilaster capitals from the ‘Eros pilaster capital’ series were found in 2008–2009 at the north end in Trench NAve 08: Yıldırım (2016) 40–41 with fig. 2.8 (Eros milking a long-haired goat) 45. In 2010–11 4 similar pilaster capitals with Erotes were found also at the north end of the south zone (trenches NAve 10.1 and 10.2) pp. 48–49 figs. 3.4–3.7, which must have come either from the rear of the lower level or the upper portico, from their position, in the collapse layer on the pavement. One from the west portico in Trench NAve 11.3 looks to be anomalous: Öğüş (2016) 53 with fig. 3.13. In 2012–14, double-half columns from the second storey of colonnade were also found: Sokolicek (2016) 66 fig. 4.11 p. 67. However, no more of the pilaster capitals were found in the 2012–14 excavations of the south end of the south zone: Sokolicek (2016) 67–68 with n. 34. By the time of the report in 2016 there does not seem to have been consensus on the position of the pilaster capitals with Erotes within the upper storey: they are relegated to the interior on the reconstruction drawing on Sokolicek (2016) 67 fig. 4.13 (i.e. not visible) and the report does not give a final view on where they were displayed. Dillon (1997) 759–62 identified the capitals as late antique, based on Late Roman sarcophagi and late antique statuettes, although she does not offer much further precision on date, beyond suggesting 4th–5th c. based on uncertain local parallels. The upper storey dimensions are: pedestals about 0.6 m (including a base), columns about 2 m, capitals about 0.4 m. Upper colonnade total height 3 m. Total

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height from street to roof: ca. 8 m: A. Sokolicek pers. comm. 2015. The interior decoration of the east portico’s upper storey includes the remains of an extensive black and white opus sectile floor of square tiles, likely arranged in a check-board patterns diagonally against the portico, like the small pavement on the ground floor portico: Yıldırım (2016) 46 (in trench NAve 09.4). They appear to be squares of 24 cm by 24 cm on p. 68 fig. 4.14, when found in NAve 13.4: Sokolicek (2016) 67. In both cases these remains were found by a pier in the east portico. A lot of marble decoration (more than from below) plus plaster, window glass, mosaic, revetment and iron items were found in 2012–14: Sokolicek (2016) 67. Trenches NAve 09.4 and 08.4 revealed internal decoration of multi-coloured marble revetment, glass wall-mosaics, coloured wall-plaster fragments, and window glass in 2010–11: Yıldırım (2016) 45. The quantity of window glass with the absence of stone or metal frames, suggested to Sokolicek that they were dealing with wooden window frames fitted perhaps in the back wall of the upper floor of the portico, which had at least two doorways in it, as indicated by threshold blocks recovered: Sokolicek (2016) 68. It is speculated that these doorways lead into two-storey residences, which could explain something of the contrast between the modest earth floor of the lower storey and the luxurious decoration of the upper storey: p. 68. Certainly, at the north end of the north zone there is a late antique two-storey residence behind the east portico, the remaining areas beyond the east portico being unexcavated. Of paving, we have a number of different areas visible, on which I make the following observations from report photos and my own tourist photos: (i) The paving in the north zone is composed of reused (mainly rectangular) limestone slabs, of different colours, in which some attempt has been made to sort blocks into rows of irregular width, although they do not always reach the full width of the road. There is some re-cutting of blocks to fit, and the paving is level. Against the east portico there is sometimes an absence of slabs, in contrast to the flush end of paving against the west portico. (ii) The paving next to and going under the Tetrapylon is very different, being composed of white limestone rectangular slabs, probably arranged in rows which crossed the street (although only one strip of slabs now survives along the edge of the street: L. Lavan site observations 2013. (iii) The street paving in the south zone (north end) is more irregular. That revealed by the excavation of 2010 is described as being of irregular marble blocks, some inscribed with single or double letters as mason’s marks: Öğüş (2016) 50 with 48 fig. 3.1 and 3.3. The wider photo including Trench NAve 13.4 (Sokolicek (2016) 4 fig. 4.9) shows that the area is paved with reused slabs of varied sizes, which are cut to fit in a jigsaw pattern, but

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with one line of large slabs close to the east portico running along the street, which seems likely to mark the position of a sewer (confirmed by a label on Sokolicek (2016) 66 fig. 4.12). Beyond this, the paving is almost entirely missing for the last metre or so in front of the portico, except at the north end. (iv) The street paving the south zone (south end) in trench NAve 14.1 is more regular, being of homogeneous rectangular slabs of varied sizes, arranged in a closely-fitting jigsaw pattern, cut to fit in some places, with the paving running all the way up to a continuous portico stylobate: Sokolicek (2016) 70 fig. 4.17, on which the paving is labelled ‘Roman paving’ although it looks possibly reused from the variation in slab sizes, cutting-to-fit and the absence of rows. The presence of a continuous row of large slabs on the east side of the street again likely marks the position of a sewer. (v) The street paving by the east portico opposite the Agora Gate, is in rectangular slabs, which, whilst not entirely regular, do seem to have been sorted into rough short rows, that sometimes, if not always run across the street, perpendicular to the direction of traffic: Erim (1990) 11–13 with 12 fig. 4. These differences in paving are surely not accidental, but likely reveal some chronological difference. One only has to think of the wellaligned rectangular paving of the temenos area west of the Tetrapylon, that inside the Hall of the Theatre Baths or the neat closely-laid later 4th c. pavement of the Tetrastoon (which can be proven to be part of the late build: see appendix K1a) to suspect that we have important differences here which must be taken into account when phasing the street (see below). Of statuary, there are two headless portrait statues (one hymation statue, one late antique toga statue) reused in a medieval platform of 10th–11th c. date, on the street: Sokolicek (2016) 71–72 with fig. 4.20. These may have come from display contexts within the street itself, although the adjacent agora is a possible source. Of phasing, much has been written in the recent reports, in an attempt to draw together the many trenches that have been dug over a very wide area. Much of what has been written is sound. However, there are some clear errors in the phasing of the paving, which is far more complex than any of the reports had anticipated. For this reason, I offer here an entirely new account of the phasing, relying both on statements and discoveries from the report and my own reading of the report data supplemented by site observations. I would start by noting the summary of phasing provided by Sokolicek (2016) 75. He believes that the marble road paving is of uncertain date before the Tetrapylon was erected in the late 2nd c. AD. He dates the construction of the colonnades to the late 4th to early 5th c. The colonnade was then slightly damaged towards the end of the 5th c. “probably by an earthquake”, before being destroyed in the

early 7th c. by an earthquake and a fire, after which postantique structures were built over the street in the 9th c. Of alternative phasing, the most obvious challenge is presented by the earlier account of Erim, who notes that the west ‘sidewalk’ (i.e. the west portico, as no west sidewalk is present) saw an “obvious raising of the level”, in conjunction with the building of the street: Erim (1990) 9–10. Ratté, who notes a 0.8 m to 0.9 m rise in the level of the street sometime between the late 3rd c. and 4th / 5th c., without citing evidence: C. Ratté, “New research on urban development of Aphrodisias in Late Antiquity”, in New Studies on Aphrodisias, Ephesus, Hierapolis, Pergamon, Perge and Xanthos, ed. D. Parrish (JRA Supplementary Series 45) (Portsmouth, Rhode Island 2001) (117–47) 140– 45, esp. 143 n. 86. Finally, at the Sebasteion, the increase in level is some 0.9–1 m according to A. Sokolicek, pers. comm. 2015. I am not in position to verify these claims, but I can make the following observations. Certainly, the organisation and style of the paving suggests a very different sequence. The neat white paving under the Tetrapylon does prove that the street level here is that of the late 2nd c. or earlier, not some late ‘higher level’: thus Sokolicek (2016) 59–60 rightly notes that it is covered by the late 2nd c. Tetrapylon (of “c. AD 200”). However, it is a mistake to regard all of the rest of the street paving as ‘Roman’, as he does for NAve 14.1 in fig. 4.17 on p. 70 (at the south end of the south zone). Rather the paving of the street adjacent to the Tetrapylon is certainly not of the same style and is in fact separated from it by gaps, as the new reused paving does not fit well into the old slabs. Furthermore the foundation of the east colonnade and its relationship with the street paving varies: sometimes being in the form of a solid stylobate flush with the reused road paving, sometimes (in most of the south zone of the street) in the form of individual piers separated from the edge of the paving by a metre or less of open earth, where the paving was not completed. Where the paving does not reach the edge, the colonnade design includes piers as well as columns, which is usually not the case elsewhere: L. Lavan site observation April 2013 and observation of the reports. Thus, I offer my own alternative phasing for the street, which is obviously a little subjective (given the separations between the different trenches within a massive monument) and which needs to be verified by those working on the site. Phase (i): A colonnaded street was constructed with a white limestone / marble paving of rectangular slabs sorted into parallels rows which ran across the street, perpendicularly to the direction of travel. This phase probably includes the earth floors of the first phase of the west portico. The Tetrapylon rests on this paving and might be contemporary with it, or date after it.

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters Phase (ii): The street was rebuilt with roadway paving of reused slabs of varied colours, but of medium size, which were laid in a jigsaw pattern by trying to cut angles to fit. It ran all the way across the roadway to be flush against the north and south stylobates, but was not arranged in rows fully crossing the street. There is no evidence of a line of very large slabs running north-south in front of the east portico in this phase. The stylobates supported rough pedestals with white limestone / marble columns or sometimes rough bases with the same columns, supporting unusual capitals, of which all elements may have been new-cut. This style of colonnade is visible on both east and west porticoes in the north zone of the street and in places in the south zone, especially where the paving still runs right up to the edge of the east stylobate. In the southernmost excavated trench, by the Agora Gate, we likely have a survival of that same period for the east portico: roughly rectangular paving (not as clean as that by the Tetrapylon) laid in rows going across the street, set flush against a stylobate, on which was a portico of reused columns with late-cut Ionic capitals (so of a different style to the north portico phase). It is not certain if any this portico was arcaded, and arcading remains found in the north zone of the street’s east portico seems to have come from an upper storey, which might be from the next phase. The west portico seems also to have been rebuilt in the same period: a wall with some reused material making up the upper part of the stylobate of the west portico partially covers the Tetrapylon, on its north side, implying that this stylobate was rebuilt later or likely at the same time as the re-erection of this arched monument in 400–25 (see appendix F4, based on contextual coins), although the bottom of the stylobate is not reused and thus probably Early Imperial. A scar running all the way up the side of the Tetrapylon at this point reveals that the wall reached the full height of the column, or at least until about 1 m from its upper terminus. Scars are also visible in the lower part of the corresponding column on the south side, where a wall on the stylobate also leans against it. The scars may have been made earlier, to support Early Imperial walls, but the fact that some moulding is visible through the scar suggests they are secondary to the first construction, and relate to the late walls, after the rebuild. It is important to note that the Tetrapylon is set into the western portico, so that only the easternmost row of columns of the Tetrapylon piers were free-standing from it within the street: L. Lavan site observation April 2013. Phase (iii): In places, but not everywhere, the east portico was rebuilt, suggesting an intervention after a destruction, likely an earthquake. The rebuilt sections of portico were very different, alternating 3 columns then a pier, then 2 columns, then a pier and so on, with some variations. They were certainly arcaded with brick arches on both the

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ground and upper level. The rebuilt colonnade involved the abandonment of a continuous stylobate in those areas where it was constructed, creating a construction trench scar in the paving or a gap where the paving was re-laid. It was re-laid in the south zone using slabs of mixed sizes with some (but less) effort to cut slabs to fit: some slabs seem to have been reused more than once. A line of very large slabs in front of the portico represents the place where a sewer ran (see above). The slabs do not reach the east portico to align flush with it, except in one very short stretch at the edge of a trench. This ugly gap might have been masked with a true sidewalk, ca. 1 m wide [an estimate from photos in the report by L. Lavan], built out onto the paving over the missing slabs, but all trace of this hypothetical element have now disappeared, if it ever existed. Relating the upper storey decoration of the east portico to the two phases 2 and 3 is difficult, although my instinct is that it must belong to phase 3. Certainly, given that the pilaster capitals are found mostly in the north zone and not in the south end of the south zone, where the rebuilding is most obvious, suggests that they were part of the internal or external decoration of the phase 2 east portico. In addition, the detected remains of an upper floor of black and white tile seem to be exclusively from the parts of the east portico in the south zone where piers are present (the ground floor mosaic of the same style is in the same area but adjacent to one part where the paving does reach right up to a solid stylobate). Thus, it seems likely that the pilaster capitals featuring Erotes are part of phase 2 but much of the rest of the upper storey decoration is part of the phase 3 rebuild. Quite how far along the portico the phase 3 decoration spreads is uncertain, as the excavations of 1986 may not have recorded such finds in a disciplined manner, although it is surprising that Erim (1990) does not mention anything. Of subsequent phasing, after the collapse of the street, there were walls to support occupation primarily of a domestic nature, which could be identified on the west side of the street, especially in trench NAve 12.3, in the period 650–900, finds from which include a large amount of smashed pottery, perhaps to facilitate drainage through an earth floor: Sokolicek (2016) 69. There are also more controversial encroachment walls which are identified by Öğüş (2016) 54–55 in Trench NAve 11.4. This trench recorded a destruction, perhaps in the late 5th or 6th c., which left brick wall debris on the street by the west portico. On top of this debris, by the east portico, was built a wall infilling two piers and a fire pit(?) that leaned against one of the piers and extended out across the road. In the ‘third occupation layer’ two other walls were built, one running on the street but in front of the portico and another running across the street paving. A 7th c. coin hoard with coins running from Justinian to Heraclius was found in the southeast corner of the trench at a height (518.309MASL) which

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would associate it with walls 1 and 2 (of which 2 closes the façade of the east portico). Unfortunately, Sokolicek does not mention any late 5th to 6th c. encroachment in his summary of the phasing of the street, making it likely that all these walls have been assigned to a medieval phase of the 7th c. and later. Of dating, the first excavator, Erim, believed the reconstruction work to date to the 5th c., after an apparent mid 4th c. earthquake, the significance of which is now disputed by Ratté, who dated the reconstruction [or at least a raise in the level] to sometime between the late 3rd c. and 4th / 5th c., without citing evidence: C. Ratté, “New research on urban development of Aphrodisias in Late Antiquity”, in New Studies on Aphrodisias, Ephesus, Hierapolis, Pergamon, Perge and Xanthos, ed. D. Parrish (JRA Supplementary Series 45) (Portsmouth, Rhode Island 2001) (117–47) 140–45, esp. 143 n. 86. However, the report of Öğüş (2016) 55 based on the 2010–11 excavations, talks of the colonnade renovation in perhaps the 5th c., with an earthquake possibly in the late 5th or 6th c., which left brick wall debris on the street by the west portico, prior to an end of occupation in the 7th c. Sokolicek (2016) 75 in contrast talks of the colonnades being built in the late 4th to early 5th c., with slight damage towards the end of the 5th c., then destruction by an earthquake in the early 7th c. However, I will here set out my own dating framework, by judging each piece of available evidence identified in the report, under the rules of this study, against the phases I have suggested above. For Phase (i), the construction of the street as a porticoed avenue: We have a sondage from the west portico in trench MAve 11.3, in the south section’s north end, which revealed material from the Early to High Empire, with water pipes laid prior to the initial floor of the stoa: Öğüş (2016) 52–53. “High imperial sherds” were also found at the stylobate level in trench NAve 10.3, in the same area of the street, but from the east portico, which suggest that the stylobate level was originally of that date: p. 50. A TPQ can be derived from the Tetrapylon which is dated to ca. AD 200 based on various criteria that I do not want to go into here. For Phase (ii), the first late antique building of the street, again have indications from the west portico, where the rebuild (as noted above) is certainly posterior to the rebuilding of the Tetrapylon in 400–425, based on coins found under the roughly rebuilt blocks of the structure. We might also derive a TPQ from the use of one of the columns from the adjacent Sebasteion in the east portico. This seems likely to have become available as a result of a destruction of the Sebasteion, which also saw one of its columns incorporated in the city wall of the mid-4th c.: Sokolicek (2016) 65. The column from the Sebasteion seems likely to have been reused after mid-4th c. earthquake damage, as parts of the same building were found in the mid-4th c. city wall:

see P. de Staebler, “The city wall and the making of a late antique provincial capital”, in Aphrodisias Papers 4. New Research on the City and its Monuments, edd. C. Ratté and R.R.R. Smith (JRA Supplementary Series 70) (Portsmouth, Rhode Island 2008) 284–318, with a date of 350–70 being established for the city wall in appendix C5. A small sondage in the north part of trench NAve 12.3 produced ceramics from the stylobate of the east colonnade [south zone, south end, where the nature of the portico as colonnaded or piered does not seem to be clear], the latest piece being a fragment of a late 4th to 5th c. lamp dated by U. Outschar: Sokolicek (2016) 65 with n. 26. For Phase (iii), we seem to have no dating evidence to substantiate the claims from the reports, noted above, that the east portico was damaged in the late 5th or early 6th c. All we seem to have is unspecified pottery from inside channel 2 that dates to the 6th to 7th c. which gives us an idea of the last stage use of the channel, which has a terracotta floor and schist stones as cover slabs: Öğüş (2016) 52–53. In contrast, we have destruction deposits with finds from at least two areas: from trench NAve 08.4 including a coin of Heraclius of the early 7th c. and a lead seal from the east portico floor in NAve 09.4 which may be 7th c., of a bishop Theodore, who could be the bishop Theodore of Stauropolis known in the Acts of the Sixth Ecumenical Council of 680, suggesting that the destruction dates from the mid or second half of the 7th c.: Yıldırım (2016) 46–47. The east colonnade in area NAve 12.1 produced evidence of burning in the early 7th c. Datable pottery indicates that a collapse happened after the 6th c. In trench NAve 11.4 a coin hoard of the early 7th c. was also found caught in the destruction layer: Sokolicek (2016) 69. Overall, this suggests a date for Phase 1 of sometime prior to AD 200, based on the date of the Tetrapylon, which is designed to cover this street paving, and on the general association of ceramics with the first floor levels / stylobate levels, which we will not go into here as it is not within Late Antiquity. Phase 2 seems likely to date from 400–25, which the contextual date is based on the start date of the last coins from under the rebuilt blocks of the Tetrapylon. This date is consistent with the unspecified lamp of the late 4th to 5th c. date identified from the sondage within the east colonnade, which was the last ceramic find. This second context supports a slightly earlier contextual ceramic date of 387.5–412.5 but we should adopt the later date of the two, so 400–25. Phase 3, a major rebuild of selected sections of the east portico in perhaps a more ‘6th c’. style of piers alternating with columns, is not dated except by association with finds from a drain which perhaps suggest [provided it was not cleaned earlier] use beginning no earlier than the 6th c., as there is no pottery in it dating prior to this time. A TAQ is provided by destruction deposits that can be contextually dated to the period of the seal of Bishop

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters Theodore and 25 years after, so roughly any time prior to 700. However an earlier generic TAQ can be suggested of the end of secular civic building work in Asia Minor with the decisive Persian invasion of 614. Dating summary (phase 2: reused paving of medium sized slabs and street portico, with pilasters with Erotes in the east portico): range 400–425, midpoint 412.5, class Cs8 (contextual coins), Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 2/3. Dating summary (phase 3: rebuilding of portico in sections with alternation of piers and colonnades, plus luxurious ornamentation of upper floor, possible sidewalk (now lost)): range 500–614, midpoint 557, class Cs8 (contextual coins), Cs9 (contextual ceramics), 3x (contextual others), z (background regional urban patterns), publication 2/3. 13ASI Sagalassos (north-south colonnaded street, southern section, south of Agora Gate): This 1st c. colonnaded street ran along the top of an artificial ridge to the south of the Lower Agora of the city. It has been excavated for ca. 90 m from the bottom of the Agora Gate stairs to just beyond the point where it was cut by the city wall of ca. AD 400. Here there was a gate, which was eventually blocked. However, the colonnaded street had originally continued further south towards the temple of Antoninus Pius. The excavated part of the street contains a road junction where a minor street comes in from the west side. This junction occurs 43 m south of the Agora Gate stairs, south of which a short part of a row of shops (3 units in total) have been revealed on the west side. It divides the road into ‘two sections’, the first to the north and the second to the south (henceforth ‘first section’ and ‘second section’). A prominent recess occurs in the west portico halfway down the first section, between the Agora Gate stairs to the junction. This was made into a fountain in Late Antiquity. On the west side of the street is a large terrace wall of heavy ashlars, some rusticated, which separates the portico from the pavement by up to three high courses of stone. A similar ashlar wall is present on the east border of the road. A portico has also been uncovered over the west side of the road, occasionally excavated beyond the stylobate: see I. Jacobs and M. Waelkens, “Five centuries of glory. The colonnaded street of Sagalassos in the first and the sixth century AD”, IstMitt 63 (2014) 219–66 for the facts from this summary. The east side of the street is less well-explored and has not produced evidence for a portico beyond some column base emplacements seen by me: L. Lavan site observation 2005. I participated in the excavation of the street, as a postdoctoral researcher doing my own recording, during the trench supervision of Femke Martens in 2005 [over a distance of ca. 25 m south of the road junction] and Ine Jacobs in 2006 [further ca. 20 m south to city wall]. As part of this work, I contributed a study of the road surface from surface archaeology, spolia study, cleaning excavation and a

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sondage. This resulted in my contribution to the Internal Report (2006) 23–34 and L. Lavan, “The streets of Sagalassos in Late Antiquity”, in La rue dans l’Antiquité. Définition, aménagement, devenir. Actes du colloque de Poitiers (7–9 Septembre 2006), edd. P. Ballet, N. Dieudonné-Glad and C. Saliou (Rennes 2008) (201–14) 202–204. This was part of a two year post-doctoral fellowship at KULeuven, on the street and squares of Sagalassos in Late Antiquity. The excavation work of Martens in 2005, was reported in Internal Report (2005) 115–36. This first uncovered the central-south section of the street, with its encroachment walls, supported by two sondages in the paving, and one in the portico. For a discussion of Martens’ work on streets see F. Martens, “Urban traffic in the hills of the eastern Mediterranean: the development, maintenance, and usage of the street system at Sagalassos in south-western Turkey”, in edd. Ballet, Dieudonné-Glad and Saliou (above, 2008) 191–200 with map of areas excavated on p. 193 fig. 2; F. Martens, “Late antique urban streets at Sagalassos”, in Technology in Transition A.D. 300–650, edd. L. Lavan, E. Zanini and A. Sarantis (Late Antique Archaeology 4) (Leiden 2007) (321–65) 346–55. A much fuller account of the street has now been published by Jacobs and Waelkens (2014), with plan A on fig. 2, with I. Jacobs making contributions to Internal Report (2006) 78–95 [in this case with T. Işiklar and R. Vandam] and again in 2007–2009 (not seen). The article of Jacobs and Waelkens presents the results of the new seasons of excavation from 2006 to 2009, revealing many important discoveries; it forms the basis of the discussion below. Because the study of Jacobs and Waelkens (2014) does not refer to my article of 2008 or the Internal Report (2005) of Martens and myself, I have added here observations from my earlier publications and new remarks made from scrutinising the plans of the report of Jacobs and Waelkens. Thus, what I present here is my new overall understanding of the phasing of the street, which proposes especially the recognition of (i) a sidewalk on the west side of the street, not noticed by Jacobs and Waelkens, and (ii) phasing observations on reused material in the paving, part of which I described in my report of 2006, although I can now see this covered a much larger area of the street. Of dimensions, we have the following figures, much of which relates to the 1st c. original design for the street, as the stylobates on each side date from that time. The west portico measures 3.5 m wide according to Jacobs and Waelkens (2014) 228. However, it can be seen from the plan that this measurement is taken from the back wall of the portico to the portico-side edge of the colonnade, whereas the measurement from the back wall of the portico to the roadside edge of the stylobate plan is ca. 4.4 m. The roadway width between the portico stylobates is given as

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ca. 10 m in the report of Jacobs and Waelkens (p. 242), but this seems to be ca. 10.3 m on the plan, according to my hand-measurement. A late antique sidewalk (not recognised by Jacobs and Waelkens), set in front of the west portico, cuts into this road width. It seems to have varied from 1.9 m to 2.3 m in width (see below), at its north end, from which I will take my measurement. This would mean that the roadway was reduced to ca. 8 m in width where the sidewalk survives rather than 8.6 m as on p. 242). The east portico has not yet been defined in width, although it would be a fair guess to assume 4.4 m, as on the west side. Much of it is likely to have eroded down the hill on the east side, and thus be unrecoverable. This gives an overall width of 17.3 m for the street, including two porticoes, each of 3.5 m, and a roadway of 8 m, where a sidewalk of 2.3 m survives. Of the Agora Gate and its staircase at the north end of the street, see appendix F7b and S6. This Early Imperial monumental gate faced down the colonnaded street from its junction with the Lower Agora and thus provided a key prospect for the sight-line up the road. Its rebuilding, after a catastrophic earthquake ca. AD 500 (which saw blocks collapse onto the agora gate staircase, causing damage to it) [not in Guidoboni Catalogo], involved the re-erection of fragmentary elements, along with the addition of a nonoriginal Lion capital and also of a reused statue base for an infant to the structure. The reconstruction of the adjacent Apollo Klarios terrace wall / Lower Agora west portico back wall, which had collapsed in the same disaster, was also an important part of this work: appendix S5a. Furthermore, the Agora Gate staircase leading down into the street was also completely replaced, by a new grand staircase in reused white limestone, including many undisguised architectural pieces. The staircase was now moved several metres to the south. This action also required an extension of the adjacent paved surface of the Lower Agora using reused slabs, noted by Jacobs and Waelkens (2014) 241–42, following identification by L. Lavan, “The agorai of Sagalassos in Late Antiquity: an interpretive study”, in Field Methods and Post-Excavation Techniques in Late Antique Archaeology (Late Antique Archaeology 9) edd. L. Lavan and M. Mulryan (Leiden-Boston 2013) (289–353) 295–96. A water supply was also laid out on the west side of the new staircase, in the same construction event. This great campaign of building work is dated from unspecified ceramics found in the fill supporting the water supply, which date to the first half of the 6th c. (this precision likely equates with a full date range for a sub-phase of Sagalassos Red Slip ware), which is the date range I give it, supported by 4th–5th c. coins from the destruction debris overlying the old stairs. Most of the Agora Gate steps have no traces of wear, except in the centre (L. Lavan site observations

2006), which points to the stairs being a newer element on the site. Of the west portico, Jacobs and Waelkens point out that where it was crossed by the side street, the south end of the portico was rebuilt with a wall of reused ashlars. To this rebuilt wall was added a staircase of spoliated architectural blocks, to bridge the distance from the paving to the high interior of the portico (p. 237 with p. 228 fig. 9). At the very north end of the west portico, where the Agora Gate stairs begin, the outside corner of a late antique structure terminates the portico on its south side whilst providing a flanking wall for the stairs on its east side. This great heavy wall [henceforth the ‘AG terrace wall’] is composed of mortared rubble, interrupted by courses of bricks (p. 242). Its edges are faced in reused ashlars [acting as quoins: L. Lavan site observation]. It seems to have served as a terrace wall, for the land rising up to the Lower Agora and the temple of Apollo Klarios. It seems to belong with the general restructuring of the Agora Gate area, which saw the Gate brought south by several metres for its 6th c. rebuild. This occurred after the ‘earthquake of AD 500’, after which the adjacent Apollo Klarios terrace wall / Lower Agora west portico wall had to be rebuilt. Indeed, the spatial coincidence of the south end of the AG staircase with the south end of the structure suggests that they were built together as a response to this disaster, with the staircase hugging the new AG terrace wall. Jacobs and Waelkens point to an arch set within this wall which looks similar in design to the surviving arcade of the colonnaded street (p. 239). Thus, it seems likely that the AG terrace wall belongs not only with the stairs but also with the colonnade in its final form. Of the west portico floor, the surface laid out in the west portico, excavated in the area of the shops, was of cobbles embedded in compact soil and mortar, except for one small section which was paved, in front of shop 2, which may represent the intended but incomplete / robbed surface covering of the portico, with the cobble surface representing its substratum. It continued into the side street which left the north-south street to the west half-way down its length, suggesting that this had a portico too: Jacobs and Waelkens (2014) 239–40 with fig. 40. Of the east portico colonnade, components are suggested by Jacobs and Waelkens (2007) 238 based on material found on the east side of the road. However, these proposals may need to be reconsidered. Of the architectural fragments which they mention, only the hexagonal shaft and the decorated large Attic-Ionic base were found on the street proper, together, likely representing a fallen honorific monument actually ornamenting the street. The other “roughly shaped Attic-Ionic bases” were found apparently used as paving slabs on the east side of the street, covering a late water pipe trench: LL spolia observations 2005.

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters They were partly found on the surface, so might have fallen off the stylobate but the open earth directly below suggests they may have served as paving slabs here. Of the west portico colonnade, we have three areas with information for the reconstruction of the colonnade. (i) North of the junction, the excavations of Jacobs from 2007 onwards, up to the Agora Gate steps, have revealed substantial remains. Here, the late colonnade consists of rectangular piers, plus one hexagonal and two square socles, likely derived from the bottom parts of honorific monuments, alternating randomly without a pattern. The northernmost element consists of a column pedestal, a column shaft and Corinthian capital, all found together (p. 237). There were then [moving S] two piers of limestone and tufa, both coated in mortar, followed by two piers made out ashlar limestone blocks and two rectangular socles mentioned above, which supported ashlar blocks, drums and capitals. Then there was another ashlar pier followed by the hexagonal socle. The elements were joined to the stylobate and to each other with large quantities of mortar (p. 237). Jacobs and Waelkens (2014) 238–39 observed unfluted limestone column shafts, in the ‘Byzantine’ blocking wall across the gate, which may have come from the street. In the rubble on the street in some parts of this section (Agora Gate to junction) were found 7 Corinthian capitals (p. 229), thought to date from the Hadrianic period [a date I do not accept, as no basis for it is presented]. (ii) South of the junction, over a distance of 30 m, I was able to make observations in 2005. From the colonnade here there is a mix of architectural elements (quarry-ready bases and quarry-ready pedestals with integrated bases). These survive either in situ on the stylobate or within the debris from on the adjacent road paving, but adjacent to a stylobate column emplacement. This debris (which included part of a fluted column drum) looks from its position to represent the collapse of the colonnade which has at a later date been tidied up into un-mortared walls, by the addition of more random material including a gameboard fragment. Both sources of information indicate that the portico was rebuilt with reused elements: Lavan (2008) 202. (iii) In the section south of the 2005 area, towards the city wall, Jacobs encountered a complete heart-shaped Hellenistic pier with Corinthian capital, which seems to be in situ and part of the original colonnade, alongside a quarry-ready pedestal with integrated base: Jacobs and Waelkens (2014) 223–24 with fig. 5 and 238–39 with fig. 13. It is interesting to note that the spolia (i) in the colonnade section recorded by Jacobs closest to the Agora Gate is substantially more varied and includes many more reused honorific monument elements than that (ii) south of the junction observed by me, which is composed of quarryready column bases and pedestals with column bases and some columns. In section (iii), in the 30 m south of the

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junction, the pattern of (ii) seems to continue. Late piers of the kind seen in (i) also seem to be absent in sections (ii) and (iii). One might also note that the quarry-ready pedestal elements (seen in other late buildings at Sagalassos) are not visible amongst the rich surface material south of the city gate, where the colonnaded street continued towards the south although we see a number of architrave elements and some fluted columns but no quarry ready pedestals in Byzantine contexts here. This general distribution suggests that any late rebuilding of the colonnaded street occurred after the late antique city wall was built ca. AD 400 (dated contextually by the Doric Temple to the 25 year period after 383, so 383–408, based on the start date of the latest identified coin find, on which see appendix G3), a date supported by stratigraphy that subsequently built up against its face. Of the nature of the west portico colonnade, we have the following details, provided by Jacobs and Waelkens. Firstly, the northernmost pier (column pedestal, a column shaft and Corinthian capital) reached a combined height of 4.4 m (p. 237). Secondly, a ‘Hellenistic’ heart shaped pier from a part of the colonnade south of the street junction, survived from an earlier period. It had a total height of 4 m in contrast, which may indicate colonnade differences or [I think] that the late colonnaded added a missing element to the pier to make up its height (p. 237). Just south of this pier was excavated a collapsed arcade arch of ‘late antique’ brick size (0.27 m by 0.27 m by 0.03 m) bonded with large amounts of mortar. Seven pentagonal voussoir blocks were located on the west side of the road north of the junction (actually in the section north of the street fountain), which may have acted as springers for the arches of the arcades (p. 239). The cross-section shape was “a pentangle, with a flat base and slightly curved sides” (p. 239 text). Although most of the voussoirs were found along the colonnaded street, one pentagonal voussoir block was found incorporated in the ‘sidewall of the Agora Gate staircase’ (p. 239 n. 79), which seems to mean the AG terrace wall on the side of the stairs (see p. 242). Another pentagonal voussoir was found at the Agora Gate, so some distance and uphill from the actual colonnade, suggesting reuse. The reuse in the terrace wall implies that they date from before this wall was constructed, and so relate to an earlier phase of the colonnaded street, where arcades were used, though still likely after the 3rd c. when such arcading started to be diffused to streets. Of the street paving, developments seem to me to be more complicated than Jacobs and Waelkens (2014) 228 suggest. They anticipate that the whole street paving is of the 1st c. AD and believe that variations in the slabs are attributable to different batches of stone. N.B. Their ‘pers. comm.’ (p. 228 n. 20) referring to myself on this matter and P. Degyrse is nothing of the kind, and relates better to my study of the Lower Agora. Rather my Internal Report (2006)

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28 (from which this supposed ‘pers. comm.’ is derived) did not connect the stone types on the street to phasing, but described discrete areas of the paving which did or did not show reuse. My current analysis goes further, being concerned with the variation between slabs in the paving in terms of wear and sorting and jointing technique rather than just in terms of stone type; these variations indicate different technical work standards, and so likely different phases. The sections of potentially reused [and thus late] slabs are as follows: (i) In a short section, ca. 65 m south of the Agora Gate, a number of slabs in one part of the street surface look fragmentary and disturbed, in a repair that extends right across the street, for a distance of around 5–8 rows, where the slabs are arranged in incomplete transversal rows. Although there are no visible architectural features or variant colouring on the visible faces of the slabs, two further rows on the north side include slabs of very of large size (ca. 120 cm by 140 cm), and one of them has a bevelled edge, whilst another has a square dowel hole and what looks like a trench for lead which might have originally been an attachment for a column or statue base: L. Lavan Internal Report (2006) 29. This is in contrast to the main area of slabs further down the street, which are laid in rows of ca. 40 cm wide that extend right across the full width, with the slabs of similar size, of ca. 40 cm by 60 cm, although some slabs are more like ca. 40 cm by 120 cm: L. Lavan Internal Report (2006) 29. (ii) The first 50 m of the street, leading from the bottom of the Agora Gate stair down to the first encroachment wall, exhibits evidence of late repair. The sizes of slabs here are very irregular, with rows extending about half way across the street and with some attempts made to cut slabs to fit. Furthermore, in this area, the slabs appear far less worn than in other parts of the road: L. Lavan observations from plan in Jacobs and Waelkens (2014) fig. 2. (iii) In the area between the towers of the city gate, some of the slabs are of large size, somewhat irregular and not obviously cut to fit, leaving gaps between the stones: L. Lavan observations from plan in Jacobs and Waelkens (2014) fig. 2. Of the street paving edges, an entirely different development can be seen. On each side of the road, the last row or two against the street border has been greatly disturbed along its full length, being re-laid with slabs that include much reused material (and large tiles on the west side), with many gaps: Lavan (2007) 202 plus Internal Report (2006). These repairs were undoubtedly to facilitate new water pipes which ran along the street edge. On the west side, the new paving incorporates a ‘herringbone’ block derived from the back wall of the portico of the Lower Agora (adjacent to the Agora Gate): see appendix C3. It is interesting to note that this pipeline ‘cut’ is not obvious in the north part of the street leading up to the Agora Gate staircase (where the paving seems to have been re-laid wholesale).

Thus, it looks like the street paving had been laid at the same time as the pipe trenches. This is particularly clear on the photo of Jacobs and Waelkens (2014) fig. 16 where the paving comes to a straight edge some 2 m or so before the portico stylobate. The slabs do not seem to have been removed here, as Jacobs and Waelkens (2014) 242 suggest, but rather deliberately made to stop here. The edge of the paving is too straight when compared to adjacent breaks in the overlapping rows of paving. Thus, the late road paving leading to the Agora Gate stairs and the water pipeline were built together. The disrupted paving strip on the east side of the street includes rather less-diverse reused material (column bases, parts of possible honorific monuments but no tiles) and here there is no gap, and no indication of a sidewalk: L. Lavan site observation 2005. There is also no indication of a straight edge to the paving, only of slabs removed and replaced within a paving that intended to come all the way up to the road edge. Of sidewalks [i.e. pavement set in front of a portico, not within it], there is a section on the same west side of the road, where it leads south from the Agora Gate, extending over some ca. 30.5–39 m (roughly hand-measured off fig. 2), which I was able to see in site observation 2010. I do not think that this is simply an “elongated row of displaced pavement slabs” (Jacob and Waelkens (2014) 242), but is rather a normal sidewalk, which was often constructed in Late Antiquity, sometimes with the goal of hiding water pipes added to a street (as on the Marble Street at Ephesus). The article of Jacobs and Waelkens (2014) 23 fig. 16 reveals that these blocks (which have been lost in the final part by the Agora Gate) were not laid over the paving but rather laid to border the paving, being set to stand flush against the edge of the road as it was constructed. This was a feature I was able to see also for the surviving blocks on site: L. Lavan site observations 2010. Thus, we have a conventional sidewalk, composed of one course of roughly fitting limestone blocks that is ca. 2.3 m wide, hand-measuring off the plan fig. 2, that extended north-south ca. 30.5 m along the west side of the street, down from the Agora Gate, and perhaps (8.5 m or so more, as the sidewalk was not clearly marked on the plan) to the junction of the minor road coming from the west. Even without animal-pulled vehicles in this mountain city, it might have been useful to have had such a sidewalk for those wishing to avoid sedan-chairs and hand-carts. Certainly, it was an effective way to hide the water supply. It is interesting to note that a short piece of sidewalk has also been preserved at the city gate in the fortification, at the southern end of the street, on the west side of the road. Here, three stone blocks, are placed in a line in a similar manner to the sidewalk further up the street (one ashlar and two rusticated ashlars, set at ca. 1.9 m from the road edge): L. Lavan site observations 2010. Presumably, here the depth of earth has avoided

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters them being robbed, whereas they were stripped off in the middle of the excavated section of the street, where the soil depth is almost nothing. We can likewise assume that the well-preserved sidewalk at the north end of the street has similarly been preserved as here the soil depth increases as the street approaches the Agora Gate. Thus, it is possible that the sidewalk found along the west side of the street further up extended all the way down the avenue on the west side, and perhaps on the east side too [although there is no evidence of this yet], effectively covering over all the messy paving slabs associated with the installation or repair of the water supply, and so substantially improving the aesthetics of the street. Of sidewalks, there is also an area at the start of the side street running west of the junction which suggests another sidewalk existed, although it only survives in fragments. This is shown on p. 228 fig. 9 as a line of 7 rough and likely reused tufa blocks, curving around a staircase designed to give access to the north section of the west portico of the colonnaded street. It peters out after a couple of metres, though it may have originally extended all the way down the side, holding a width of ca. 2 m from the street edge (hand-measuring off the plan). Jacobs and Waelkens (2014) 251 assume it is designed to offer protection from traffic to the second phase water pipe. However, it does not look like this, as both the built water channel and second-phase ceramic water pipes are found outside the wall on the plan, not behind it, so offering no protection. It is more likely that we have here a side-street sidewalk, perhaps from the same time as the sidewalk of the west side of the colonnaded street that is associated with the first water supply. Of the paving of this sidewalk, no details are recorded by Jacobs and Waelkens. Thus, it was probably of beaten earth / dumped earth fill, which was excavated without a surface being detected. At the city gate, the sidewalk paving has not all been excavated and here it seems to be dark earth, stones and gravel, mixed with tile fragments, although I did not get a very good view. However, it is interesting to note that the large ashlar slab used to create a street fountain within the sidewalk has a recessed part of its facing on the east side as it has been cut to anticipate a paving set at the same height as what would have been the sidewalk walking surface: L. Lavan site observations 2010. Of water pipes, two systems have been detected, most clearly in the section of the road just south of the Agora Gate. (i) The first is a brick-built channel which runs underneath the kerb of the ‘sidewalk’ / “elongated row of displaced pavement slabs”, after having descended the Agora Gate stairs in the form of a ceramic pipe, set within earth that was arranged here at the same time as the stairs were built (see above). This channel was cut and replaced by a further pipe which lay still behind the sidewalk kerb but at a height which equated with the road: pp. 242–43. Jacobs

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and Waelkens find the second arrangement odd, but it is identical to that seen at Ephesus on the Marble Street, where a raised sidewalk is used to provide easily accessible cover for a new water pipe without digging down below the road paving level. Further opportunities to examine the water pipes came further down the street, next to shop 2, just south of the junction. Here a dolium was found, into which ceramic water pipes were set, that was used as a settling tank. The presence of an older hole suggested to Jacobs and Waelkens that it has been used by the primary system, whilst a channel leading south-west suggested that there was a pipe leading into the side street to the west [though a supply to the adjacent insula might also be possible]: pp. 242–43. It is clear that the relationship between the first water pipe and the road paving was not properly established: p. 243 (“this first pipe was presumably fully embedded in the cobble substrate”). Moreover, Jacobs and Waelkens do not realise that the second water pipe was buried beneath a fill relating to the sidewalk. They have assumed that the presence of an exposed water pipe by the fountain “making it very difficult to reach the water” means that this part of the street was out of use, which does not seem to be the case (p. 251). See also other concerns about this ‘decay’ in this area, expressed below, in relation to the fill of refuse dumps given to the sidewalk once the secondary water pipe was installed, in order to reinstate its walking surface. Other sections of the water pipe system were uncovered by Martens and myself in sondages in 2005 and 2006 respectively, in the 30 m street section south of the junction. My trench in the west side showed two successive terracotta water pipes [the ceramics from the related layers were not examined]. The trench of Martens on the east side of the street showed one terracotta water pipe renewed in Late Antiquity, as deduced from ceramics of 5th to 7th c. in the fill above the water pipe, but under the slabs (SRSW phases 8 and 9, of which the latter dates to 550/75-ca. 700 in 2013, although the city was abandoned ca. 650, see foreword, and so provides the contextual basis for dating the layer): F. Martens Internal Report (2005) 123 and L. Lavan Internal Report (2006) 30. See also L. Lavan, “The streets of Sagalassos in Late Antiquity”, in La rue dans l’Antiquité. Définition, aménagement, devenir. Actes du colloque de Poitiers (7–9 Septembre 2006), edd. P. Ballet, N. DieudonnéGlad and C. Saliou (Rennes 2008) (201–14) 202. Of the street fountain, built inside the rectangular recess (midway from the Agora Gate stairs to the junction; 0.9 m wide by 0.88 m deep), we have a number of important details resulting from the careful excavations of Jacobs. The report of Jacobs and Waelkens (2014) 244–45 (p. 238 for the recess), notes that the installation of a basin here only happened when the 1st c. water supply had been blocked, but the basin also overlies the new 6th c. water supply coming down from the Agora Gate stairs. They also

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think that the general association between the fountain and the sidewalk indicates that the sidewalk was built to protect the water supply, as the fountain is set directly in the centre of a surviving section of it. This latter detail though may be fortuitous in spatial terms, as the fountain is simply set at the centre of an insula which is protected by a sidewalk. But the relationship of the basin to the sidewalk is certainly correct, because the recessed bottom of the massive basin block is clearly set at the same height of as the walking surface of the sidewalk, as explained above. Jacobs and Waelkens are also correct in their observation that the sidewalk and water supply and basin were laid out at the same time as the Agora Gate stairs were constructed, although they miss the detail that the road paving in this same northern part of the street was also re-laid at the same time. Of the structure of the fountain, we are told that it is a single solid massive limestone ashlar block, which fills the earlier recess and is joined to the stylobate wall by a thick mortar layer and sits on a foundation of rubble set into mortar. Two holes were present on the road side, a spout of 4 cm by 6 cm near the top and a second hole further down, corresponding with the bottom of the basin of 5.5 cm by 5.5 cm: pp. 243–44. No dimensions are provided by the report but these can be obtained from the plan. The exterior dimensions of the basin are ca. 2.3 m by 1 m, whilst the interior are 0.9 m by 0.6 m, roughly hand-measuring off the plan. These measurements do not include the fountain space contained in the recess behind, of which I was not entirely sure of the form. Of shops, three one-room cellular units opening onto the west portico, just south of the junction, were partially excavated by Martens in 2005 and then Jacobs in 2006 onwards, of which we have a description in Jacobs and Waelkens (2014) 228–30, especially p. 230 with 229 fig. 10 (photo of shop 2) and p. 240. They are described as having been rebuilt several times during their existence (p. 230) although specifics of phasing or dating are not offered to support this statement. The shop dimensions are described as being 4.75 m wide and of an unknown depth greater than 3.2 m (p. 230). However, the final state of the shops is described (p. 240) as being of walls of mortared rubble, brick and reused architectural blocks including column fragments, ‘combined in an irregular fashion’, which likely means un-coursed rubble masonry. Shop 3 had limestone doorposts, for an entrance 0.85–0.9 m wide, whilst shop 1 had a rough opening and shop 2 a 1.54 m wide doorsill. Shop 2 had a floor of beaten earth except for one area of neat brick by the door, [that perhaps marks the intended position of hearth or other productive installation: L. Lavan]. A 0.9 m by 1.01 m brick-lined pit was also present in this shop [perhaps for cold storage]. Of “aesthetic decay” of the colonnaded street, some of the evidence presented by Jacobs and Waelkens (pp. 251–52)

is open to reinterpretation. The refuse found inside the basin of the street fountain is good evidence for downgrading. This occurred in the second half of the 6th c. according to the report with ceramics mentioned [likely SRSW phase 9 of 550/75–650], but not specified as the dating basis. Similarly, the rubbish found inside the brick-lined pit of shop 2, including an unspecified oinophoros of the “third quarter of the sixth century” is evidence at least of internal replanning, alongside one undated “post-earthquake” rearrangement of the shop with a door-blocking, a new entrance and an incoming rough staircase of reused materials (pp. 251–52 with n. 133). However, the refuse dumping found between the west edge of the road and the surviving slabs do not seem to be evidence of decay. Rather, this fill was simply designed to cover the second phase water pipe, in order to reinstate the ‘sidewalk’ that had been established here at the same time as the Agora Gate and the late road surface, deposits which doubtless covered some of the displaced paving slabs which were “thrown at random against the bordering wall of the street”. These deposits produced ceramics dating from the late 6th and first half of the 7th c. [i.e. Sagalassos Red Slip Ware phase 9 in 550/75ca. 700 in 2013, though the city was abandoned by ca. 650]. The very northern end of the dump, which apparently was the most recent in its ceramic finds, although no details are given, was set against the Agora Gate stairs “which eventually resulted in a large heap of bones and sherds”. Given that this deposit is not presented in plan in the report, it is hard to judge if it actually covered over the street paving slabs or was confined to the area of the sidewalk strip. Thus, it is possible that the street did not see any form of decay apart from the dumping of rubbish in its fountain in the second half of the 6th c. AD. The deposits in the sidewalk area suggest rather its repair with the second water supply, both dating to the late 6th or early 7th c. Of real decay, we have a series of undated encroachment walls lying across the street, excavated especially in 2005, which are composed of the fallen remains of the colonnade plus random fragments, as detailed in Lavan (2008) 202 and 206 and Internal Report (2006) 31. Jacobs and Waelkens (2014) 253 also note some column drums by the Agora Gate staircase which were rolled aside to the W. edge of the road, as if to allow post-collapse traffic to pass. However, there could be other reasons as they are laid within the area of the ‘sidewalk strip’, though one where the kerb stones were removed. A barrier wall built across the city gate, at the south end of the excavated area, is given by Jacobs and Waelkens (2014) as being of ‘Byzantine’ / 7th c. date (p. 228 and p. 239), without any dating evidence being cited. Interestingly, on p. 253 it is listed as containing a heart-shaped pier drum like that from the surviving heartshaped pier. The report also talks of much material from south of the junction ending up in the Byzantine kastron

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters on the hill to the south of the area. Finally, there were some holes in the street surface, excavated by myself in 2006 that seem to be filled with tile fragments, in the 50 m strip south of the junction with the minor road. These deposits may represent late and not very aesthetic pot-hole repairs. I was not able to find any dating evidence, however: Internal Report (2006) 29 with fig. 1.11. Of statuary, Jacobs and Waelkens note the remarkable discovery of a series of statue fragments along the street, and a series of consoles attached to the “brick and tuff piers” of the late portico [which means the west portico, north end by the AG stairs]. The consoles are of very different sizes (width between 32 cm and 47 cm) just as the statue fragments found on the streets are of different sizes (some 80 cm, one larger than this). These included a statue of the ‘Three Graces’ found below two late piers in the west side of the street [by the AG stairs], a statuette of Aphrodite and a “draped female” on the west side south of the fountain [so presumably before the junction, as it was not found in 2005 or 2006 south of there], and a Hygeia with an Apollo on the east side of the street. Some of the consoles were found in the ‘7th c.’ barrier wall across the gate, which suggests they came from the lower part of the street: p. 245. The connection of the consoles to the piers [“integrated into” them], suggests that the statuary ornament is part of the 6th c. rebuilding of the street. To be sure of this, however, we need to see a photo or specific in situ example which the report at present does not provide. The heterogeneity of the collection and the consoles does suggest they were brought here in Late Antiquity, as does their size, which suggests a domestic origin, as the report authors rightly note: pp. 245–26. They are also right to situate the deposition of a naked figurine of Aphrodite within the fountain (under a column base) in the post-antique period: p. 253; the rest of the statuary on the street remained where it was when the street collapsed, sometime after the water pipe repairs of the later 6th to earlier 7th c. However, the loss of the genitals of the Apollo statue might well have occurred in the 6th c., as ‘genital removal’ is a practice seen on statue assemblages of the nymphaea of Asia Minor (see appendix H3, a phenomenon noted by Jacobs and Waelkens (2014) 247 n. 111), where penises were removed but breasts were left untouched, even along streets such as the Embolos of Ephesus which was monumental and active in the early 7th c. Of other statuary, we can make the following remarks. (i) Firstly, the statue base dedicated to P.A. Tibya, had its inscribed face cut by a dowel hole (suggesting perhaps a new dedication): K.G. Lanckoronski ed., Städte Pamphyliens und Pisidiens, vol. 2 Pisidien (Vienna 1892) 226 no. 197, plus see appendix H7. (ii) Secondly, a block (perhaps supporting a statue group), dedicated to Septimius Severus, his wife Julia Mamaea and imperial house by the imperial

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high priest A. Meidianus Attalianus, was also found on the street north of the junction: Lanckoronski (1892) 226 no. 196. This was undoubtedly part of the earlier statue ornament of the road, like other bases to Antonine and Severan emperors clustered close to the temple of Antoninus Pius further down the street, feature in Lanckoronski and other epigraphic collections on the site. (iii) Thirdly, a statue base inscribed to Julian Caesar, set at the top of the street on an upturned upper moulding, does not relate to the 6th c. rebuilding period, as Jacobs and Waelkens (2014) p. 245 believe, but is a relic of the earlier street, being set at the level of the original Agora Gate stairs and being covered by the earth which was levelled for the building of the new stairs, as polaroid photographs in a site note show: see appendix H7 for details. The script does not provide any basis for dating this statue to the second half of the 5th c. as some have thought or to the 6th c., for which see also the script parallels given in appendix H7. It is tempting to think that this very purposely-sited Julian statue, set at the top of the street looking down it, commemorated some works done here (see below). Alternatively, the Julian statue might have been just the latest addition to the honouring of (Antonine and Severan) emperors along this great axis, which was likely used for the reception of imperial governors and other dignitaries coming into the city. Of phasing, there is overwhelming evidence of a massive rebuilding of the street north of the junction. This involved the following elements. (i) The west portico sidewalk along with the water supply behind it. (ii) The terrace wall west of the Agora Gate stairs. (iii) The reconstruction of the west portico with piers and a few columns of composite reused elements. (iv) A massive repaving of the northern part of the street, in reused materials, not previously noticed by the excavators. (iv) The Agora Gate stairs, the Agora Gate rebuild and the entire west portico of the Lower Agora. These building works seem likely to have been necessitated by the same destruction which involved the rebuilding of the north end of the street / side of the Apollo Klarios hill, based on the following factors: (a) being located together in a contiguous area in the same part of the street; (b) being associated by type of materials used (similar high-quality unworn blocks in the roadway paving and the Agora Gate stairs; similar reused material in the west portico piers and in the great new terrace wall west of the Agora Gate; (c) by the logic of the terrace walls, which reveal a late renewal of the whole south-east side of the Apollo Klarios hill; (d) by the fact that the sidewalk exists to protect a builtbrick water supply channel which ties it to the building of the late Agora Gate stairs, which dates to the period 500– 550 according to ceramics. This rebuilding does not seem to have affected the area south of the junction as drastically, although the sidewalk continued all the way to the gate in the city wall of AD 400.

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Certainly, the portico here was repaved, as ceramics of the period 525–75 (retrieved from the substrate) suggest [this is tighter than normal phasing for SRSW]. In this southern section, the portico was colonnaded in its final condition, as it probably had been all along the west portico, prior to the destruction. Furthermore, the older paving that continued to exist does not contain reused materials. However, we can see even here colonnades with reused Ionic fluted column and quarry-ready base or pedestals incorporating bases. This arrangement, very different to the piers, is only present in the southern part of the excavated area, but does not extend beyond the city gate of ‘AD 400’, despite the fact that the colonnaded street once went all the way to the Antonine Temple. This suggests that the colonnades in reused material date from an earlier late antique rebuilding of the street, in the late 4th or 5th c. AD, not from the 6th c. This may seem surprising, but similar work can be can be seen in 5th c. building work on colonnaded streets in Sardis and Aphrodisias. This 5th c. colonnade was likely also arcaded because of the presence of voussoir blocks, which in at least one case are reused in a wall which was part of the 6th c. works. Prior to this time, the whole street had probably had a flat architrave in either its 1st c. or its ‘Hadrianic’ form. The late 4th to 5th c. is an appropriate period to see work on the street, as the existence of the new fortification will have funnelled traffic through the gate, adding to the axial importance of the route in defining the city. Thus, the phasing of the street is a good deal more complex than is presented in the report of Jacobs and Waelkens. A further phase of repair (after the rebuilding of 500– 550) with the new water pipe and consequent repairs to the sidewalk, both on the west side of the road, can be dated to the late 6th to mid 7th c., on account of the ceramics found between the sidewalk kerb and the west perimeter wall. This puts in serious doubt that any real decay to the street occurred before the wider decline of the city in the first decades of the 7th c. The water supply on the east side of the road also seems to have been installed at the same time, with the latest ceramics being of Phase 9 and so suggesting a date within the range 550/75-ca. 700 in 2013, although likely the start of this range given wider developments in the city, such as the silting of the adjacent Lower Agora (on which see appendix V5d). Finally, there are numerous small late phases which cannot be connected easily to this overall sequence and which will not be dated here: for example the rebuilding of part of the west portico, with some rough new steps, next to the street junction, or odd patches of isolated repaired street paving. Of dating, we can draw on evidence associated with the city wall or the road. The first phase of rebuilding can be related to the ‘city wall of AD 400’, which is well-dated around the Doric Temple. From this stratigraphy we can derive a

notional TPQ of 383 for the first phase of rebuilding on the street. However, it is possible that the wall was actually begun a little earlier in other parts of the circuit. Thus, we might allow ourselves to associate the statue at the end of the street with work done in the time of Julian (361–63 in the East), when there was a rebuilding of the colonnaded street north of its gate, connected to the disruption caused by the wall. However, this is not an argument I will adopt here, pending further dating evidence from the street. The second phase of rebuilding can be dated from ceramic assemblages, which provide us with a date in the period 500– 50 for the totality of works along the street. The portico reflooring suggests a slightly later date of 525–75 [though the exact basis of this narrow date is not clear from the report, as it does not correspond to a phase of SRSW], even though it seems to have been part of the same programme. For this reason, I will take the broader period 500–50, based on ceramics from Agora Gate as the dating basis for all the works, including the reflooring of the portico, until the dating is based on named ceramics. The last phase of repairs can be set in the period 550/75–650, with the installation of a new water supply on both sides of the street, which necessitated the repair of the sidewalk. A subsequent period of ‘decay’ in which pot holes were plugged with dumps of tile may have followed. Finally, there is a phase of collapse, although not decay, which is not dated by any published ceramics. The basis of the dating on the site is usually the presence of different general classifications of Sagalassos Red Slip Ware. This is not real contextual dating, for which we need a range of specific dated ceramics from which we can estimate a deposition date for the layer of 25 years or so after the start date of the last dated find. Thus, we can only give a broad ‘associative’ contextual date from the last group of SRSW in a context, using the full range of building work for building associated with it. The dates of SRSW do, however, tend to change over the years, making such dates in need to regular updating. It is thus especially problematic that it is not always made clear in reports on Sagalassos if a specific SRSW phase is being used as a dating basis or not, when ‘ceramics’ are evoked. Thus, we have to live with what the reports give us, awaiting further precisions from the site. In normal circumstances this would make all ceramic dates from Sagalassos ‘poor’ dates, but the distance from the sea means that the ceramics found in the city tend to be local wares, with a lesser degree of imports, making ceramic typology more difficult than it is by the coast [as far as I can guess]. Dating summary (rebuilding of west portico, with arcades, visible south of the junction, and perhaps once present all the way up to the AG stairs): range 383–500, midpoint 441.5, class Cs3 (associative, phase

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters of development), Cs5 (catch-all spolia), publication 3/3. Possibly built earlier, in 355–60, on account of the Julian statue. Dating summary (rebuilding of street with AG stairs, flanking wall, new street paving, west sidewalk and side street sidewalk, water channel [brick], fountain, colonnade of piers with statuary, portico floor): range 500– 50, midpoint 525, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3. Dating summary (new water pipe [ceramic pipe] on both sides of the street and reinstatement of sidewalk on west side): range 550–650, midpoint 600, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3. Dating summary (decay): Undated after 550, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3. 13ASI Sagalassos (east-west street C): This street was monumentalised (with new porticoes and limestone paving, although the street was narrowed) sometime from the mid 5th to mid 6th c., and it has been traced in its western half, just west of the Lower Agora: see F. Martens, Interdisciplinary Research Concerning the Urban Development of Sagalassos. Settlement Development, Urban Layout and Infrastructure (Ph.D. diss., Univ. of Leuven 2004) 227–28; F. Martens, “Late antique urban streets at Sagalassos”, in Technology in Transition A.D. 300–650, edd. L. Lavan, A. Sarantis and E. Zanini (Late Antique Archaeology 4) (Leiden 2007) (321–65) 347–49, with n. 104, from which this summary is derived. Of dimensions, the measurements of the road are difficult to reconstruct due to its partial excavation. All we can say is that the paved roadway in this phase was very narrow indeed: 2.5 m between the walls of the portico stylobates. Of architectural features, we are largely limited to the paving within the trench itself. From the texts of Martens and the plan on (2007) fig. 6, there is no indication of reused material in the paving. The slabs in this small excavation trench (of ca. 2 m by 8 m) were mainly rectangular, sometimes irregular, not being cut to fit, with significant gaps between them, in the manner of material that had been reused, perhaps from the earlier street, rather than selected from a planned delivery of stone. Underneath the fill supporting the colonnade stylobate, and likely directly associated with the works, was a rectangular-shaped channel (0.85 m by 0.4 m), floored with tile and given smooth grey-mortar sides, thought by the excavator to be a water supply channel. Underneath the road paving was a layer (layer 7) which contained a water pipe running parallel with the road. Elsewhere along the length of the road however, close to the trench, we can see the upright remains of a highly-mixed spolia colonnade with Doric columns of different styles and a fluted Ionic column, along with fallen round columns and at least one fallen pedestal, out of

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context but probably part of the street, as they were found in the same area. Of dating, the timeframe from the mid 5th to mid 6th c. is based on the presence of SRSW ‘phase 8’ pottery (AD 450/75–550/75) in a fill layer behind the wall which served as a foundation for the mixed-spolia colonnade. Layer 7, underneath the road, produced ceramics of the same phase, demonstrating that the limestone slabs and the water pipe had been laid here sometime in the mid 5th to mid 6th c. I am obliged to use the full date range provided for SRSW, because no detail of individual wares is provided. Dating summary: range 450–575, midpoint 512.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 2/3. 13ASI Side (main colonnaded street): A base of limestone, found reused in a Byzantine construction by the theatre, records the restoration of 250 (columns) by governor Eutolmios, vir clarissimus and consularis, which by his titles must be late antique. The large number of columns involved suggests the restoration of a colonnaded street: IvS 2.156. Unfortunately, although there is extensive evidence of the building / rebuilding of shops using reused material on each side of the main colonnaded street (north and south of the monumental arch inside the late wall), and evidence of late antique mosaics in the porticoes (see appendix C6a), it is not possible to identify late building in the colonnades: L. Lavan site observation 2004. As the rebuilding of the shops would have necessitated the rebuilding of the roof of the colonnades, we can perhaps suggest that the restoration of the columns could be associated with this work, though doubtless there were other occasions where such interventions might be needed. Alternatively, the restoration might concern the southern part of this street, buried under the modern town, or another, as yet unknown, street within the ancient city. It is necessary to discount the theories of earlier scholars that the street contains visible building work of late antique date until they are supported by new publication. Foss notes that the colonnades have a great (“promiscuous”) variety of types of columns, capitals and bases and of greatly varying depths (i.e. the distance from the back wall to the stylobate). He also notes that a wooden architrave was used (presumably based on not finding stone architraves): C. Foss, “The cities of Pamphylia in the Byzantine age”, in Cities, Fortresses and Villages of Byzantine Asia Minor (Collected Studies Series 538) (Aldershot 1996) (1– 62) 33, 38, drawing on A.M. Mansel, Ruinen von Side (Berlin 1963) 18–20. But on site today there are no porticoes including mixed reused architectural elements visible, only porticoes of different depths, as if we are dealing with Early Imperial street porticoes that have been developed incrementally, to create a colonnaded street. In A.M. Mansel,

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Side. 1947–1966 Yılları Kazıları ve Araştırmalarının Sonuçları (Türk Tarih Kurumu Yayınları V.33) (Ankara 1978) 25–27 there is a description of the colonnaded street west of the theatre (inside the late walls), which seems to match the area described by Foss. Mansel mentions a different horizontal depth for the porticoes (6.7 m on the west side, 5.2 m on the east), where the colonnades were standing on AtticIonic bases on the west side, and on hexagonal socles on the east. Mansel also discussed the colonnaded street near the (early) city gate. He reports that it underwent great changes in Byzantine times (no specific date) when the colonnades were removed and the façades of the shops were dismantled, which might explain why the columns were of different shapes in this area, and why there were no pieces of the entablature found (Mansel (1963) 25). Excluding this section, Mansel stresses the uniformity of the colonnaded street between city gate and theatre, and suggests that it may even have been part of the same building project as the portico in front of the theatre (p. 27), despite the differing portico depths. None of this inspires much confidence in late antique building, except for that necessitated by rebuilding the shops in reused material along this route. See description of shops in Mansel (1963) 90–94; Foss (1996) art. IV, 36–38. I thank P. Talloen for the bibliography supporting this point. Overall, the dating for the rebuilding work, wherever it was situated, has to be derived from the inscription alone, with the consular governor indicating a date after the arrival of Constantine in the east in 324, with the first consular governor known in Asiana in 382 (at Lydia) according to PLRE 1.1099. The first Persian invasion of 614 is taken as a generic TAQ, after which no traditional secular monumental investment has been detected. Dating summary: range 324–614, midpoint 470, class x (inscription not in situ), publication 3/3. Poor. 15ORI Antioch in Syria: According to Libanius, the comes orientis Proclus of 383–84 built streets, colonnades, baths, and agorai PLRE 1.746–47 Proclus 6 (AD 383– 84) (Ep. 852 (Foerster edn.) = Ep. 149 (Downey edn.)) (παρ᾽αὐτοῦ πεποιημένων ὁδῶν τε καὶ στοῶν καὶ λουτρῶν καὶ ἀγορῶν), as well as enlarging a wrestling arena (Lib. Or. 10 passim). Libanius is praising Proclus in the letter, which is addressed to him, so there is the possibility of exaggeration with the work being only repair, but we cannot make this nuance on the information we have. It is possible he built a colonnaded street in the city. Dating summary: range 383– 84, midpoint 383.5, class x (historical text), publication 3/3. 15ORI Antioch in Syria: The building of a beautiful colonnaded street is described in the reign of Zeno (AD 474–91): Malalas 15.11 (as quoted in by Evagr. Hist. eccl. 3.28, given its position in Malalas according to the edition of Jeffreys, Jeffreys and Scott (1986) 213–14). It is described by Evagrius

as having two colonnades (δύο βασιλείων στοῶν), with fine stonework, having between them a tetrapylon with columns and bronze work. Dating summary: range 474–91, midpoint 482.5, class x (historical text), publication 3/3. 15ORI Antioch in Syria (Main Street): Lassus excavated several trenches along the Main Street: J. Lassus, Antioch-onthe-Orontes 5: Les portiques d’Antioche (Princeton 1972) 13–40, 93–100, 140–50, which uncovered parts of the paving of the street, or related features (e.g. Main Street Digs III.19-M, IV, V.16-P Rue, VII.6-O Sud, VIII 160 Nord, with the ‘Sondage près de la mosquée Habib en Najjar’). It is important to point out that area V.16-P Est does not deal with the main street, but with a side street, though the north arrow direction is confused on its plans. The details of the porticoes come especially from VII .6–0 Sud (where we can also detect the sidewalks, running outside the porticoes and the back walls of the shops). The preliminary reports of the dig are in R. Stillwell ed., Antioch-on-the-Orontes 2: the Excavations of 1933–36 (Princeton 1938); and J. Lassus, “Sondage près de la mosquée Habib en Najjar”, in Antioch on the Orontes I: The Excavations of 1932, ed. G.W. Elderkin (Princeton-London 1934) 92–100. All the reports should be used with care. The recording was not undertaken to a high standard, documentation was lost at different stages, and Lassus changed his mind about the chronology of the street between the earlier and later publications, especially for the ‘round plaza’, on which see appendix K1b. The report has confused several readers. It is important to note that T.W. Potter, Towns in Late Antiquity: Iol Caesarea and its Context (Oxford 1995) 87 misrepresents the Justinianic street. Whilst he does follow Lassus’ (1972) trench phase drawing of p. 27 plan 14 and p. 31 plan 18, he does not inform this with Lassus’ overall phase sequence, based on all the trenches, as shown on p. 125 plan 69. Potter’s error makes the Justinianic street look far poorer than it was, missing out the mosaic floors. He also misunderstands the addition of sidewalks beyond the portico as implying an unmonumental narrowing of the street. Of dimensions, the overall measurements are of 30 m total street width from back wall of porticoes, with roadway of ca. 6 m, sidewalks of 2 m on each side, and porticoes of 10 m wide on each side, measuring from back wall to front of portico. Note especially a total reconstruction of the Roman street (using some symmetry) given in Lassus (1972) 33 plan 19 of dig III 19-M, the principal dimensions of which seem to have been reused by the Justinianic street, adding only the sidewalks in front of the porticoes. Such reconstructed dimensions are necessary for a complex urban excavation where many parts of the street are disturbed. For more details see below. Of the shops, little from Late Antiquity has been identified. However, the well-preserved Roman shops behind

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters the portico were likely still used, the foundations of which (found in area VII.6-O Sud) were not removed by the destructions and recycling activities preceding this phase. In one area (V.16-P Rue), there are shops which have “les réemplois justiniens”, at a level of 87.76 m, which may imply a late floor reusing the shops, rather than reused material in the walls (p. 61), whilst the text on p. 63 seems to speak of a rebuilding of the back wall of the shops (which here gives out onto a back alley) in brick and concrete, which Lassus would ascribe to the time of Justinian. Of the portico, the Justinianic portico colonnade has not been recovered in any area, probably on account of the intense later occupation here, but it is likely to have reused the line of the previous Roman construction, and thus have been some ca. 10 m wide on each side, giving a total width to the road, from the portico back walls, of about 30 m: Lassus (1972) 29. Of the portico surface, two small areas of bi-chromatic mosaic floor have been recovered in the portico, one each in two separate areas. The fragment in section III.19-M was a white mosaic with black patterns, made of large tesserae of 10 mm by 10 mm by 23 mm, with a rectangle of 60 cm by 31 cm (containing a lozenge), followed by a circle of 50 cm diameter (containing a square with curved sides) (Lassus (1972) 29). In V.16-P, Lassus recorded a mosaic which seems to have a cross in a circle in one of its geometric shapes, recalling opus sectile, but not the great cross he reconstructs in the hypothetical wider pattern on Lassus (1972) 93 plan 51 with p. 91 plan 50 and pl. 43 fig. 143 Of the road paving, the Justinianic street had a new paving. At II.19-M this was of roughly rectangular blocks of basalt, un-mortared (with no trace of wheel ruts), and arranged in rough rows of different width around a central row of blocks that ran down the middle of this concavecambered surface. Sometimes the slabs are not well-fitted and the rows start to break down (Lassus (1972) 26–27 plan 14). At adjacent digs IV and VIII.16-O Nord (p. 107 plan 61), there is lots of reuse visible in the last ancient basalt paving, although an attempt at rows was made (Lassus (1972) 107 plan 61, with some obvious repairs). However, at VII.6-O Sud, the rows are not straight (Lassus (1972) 91 plan 50). At dig ‘V. 16-P Rue’ the (mainly) basalt paving is quite irregular (pp. 56–66 and p. 81, with p. 61 plan 36 and fig. 98, with the paving also visible covered by later pipes on fig. 97). This paving was set about one block higher (ca. 35 cm) than the height at which the fine early Roman limestone paving (partly robbed) was set. Lassus notes that although the first row is of quite robust blocks, the others are made of blocks of indefinite form, others of non-basaltic hard rocks, with small pieces of basalt in the interstices. He also notes that the basalt blocks were smaller and less well-cut and shaped than the paving in II.19-M. This can be seen well on p. 61 plan 36, at the top end of the page, where there

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is clearly no cutting of the irregularly-shaped blocks to fit, or any real attempt to sort them into rows. This is an ugly pavement of what seem to be reused materials, which is the only late antique phase of paving in this trench, lying directly over where the fine early Roman paving survives or where it was originally laid. At Main Street dig II.22-K, the round plaza paving drawn on Lassus (1972) 13–15, is on p. 14 described as “un magnifique dallage en lave basaltique, fait de paves de fortes dimensions, soigneusement joints”, though it is arranged in rows that are not parallel (p. 13 plan 4). See appendix K1b for more details on the round plaza paving. Of sizes of blocks, at site III.19-M they are of varied sizes, some large 1.45 m by 0.48 m, some 0.6 m by 0.7 m, others 0.35 m by 0.35 m or 0.45 m by 0.25 m. All slabs have a width of 40–45 cm, sometimes more, so comparable in width to those of the round plaza. Plan drawings of sites on the main street e.g. p. 107 plan 61 (of IV and VII.16-O Nord) show large, mainly rectangular blocks of similar dimensions. Of the sidewalk, in dig ‘VII 16-O Sud’, the paved area of the road was ca. 6 m wide and was flanked with a broad foundation of ca. 2 m that seems to have supported a limestone sidewalk on each side. The sidewalk in area VII.16-O Sud is described as having a ‘paving of limestone’ on Lassus (1972) 149, and p. 94 with plan 52 (reconstructed section). This shows sidewalks of 2.5 m plus a roadway width of 5.5 m (with a 0.5 m consequent variation for the road which I am not going to worry about). It should be noted that in III 19-M on p. 27 plan 14 the foundation of the sidewalk looks more like 1 m in width, but this is probably just its retaining wall. N.B. in this section the portico foundation is missing. Of the sewers, a well-constructed sewer (0.65 m by 0.35 m internal dimensions) was built as part of the ‘Justinianic’ phase and ran down the east side of the road, under the sidewalk in III.19-M; it was floored with bricks, and with cut-stones for side walls, set in cement: Lassus (1972) 27–28 with plan 16 (a section). Of water pipes, numerous water pipes are present in both porticoes of the Justinianic level of VII.6-O Sud (of different colour and dimensions, some cutting others) implying a large degree of subsequent remodelling to whatever portico surface existed during the rest of the late antique / Early Islamic period (Lassus (1972) 27 plan 14, 28–29). Of phasing and dating, Lassus believed throughout his second report of 1972 that the paving was from the time of Justinian. For his earlier views, relating especially to the round plaza, see Lassus (1934) 98–100. Lassus bases his overall chronology on texts, equating the last major building phase of the street as representing a reconstruction of the reign of Justinian (reigned AD 527–65), after the sack of AD 540: Lassus (1972) 30, 136. He does not usually express this in a very direct way [except on p. 67], a habit which has confused a recent study. Thus, A.A. Eger “(Re)mapping

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medieval Antioch. Urban transformations of the Early Islamic to the Middle Byzantine periods”, DOP 97 (2013) (95–134) 109 n. 83, citing Lassus (1972) 8–9 and 35, takes the reconstruction as happening after the earthquakes of 526 and 528, with abandonment after a fire of 540. However, this is not what Lassus says. Rather, on p. 30 and p. 136, he takes the description by Procop. Aed. 2.10.22 of the rebuilding after 540 as equating with the major monumental rebuild, especially the rise of level of the street which Procopius describes, which he has seen on site. This makes the date of this street phase roughly AD 540–65 (assuming the works were complete by the end of Justinian’s reign), and there is no fire abandonment as envisaged by Eger. I do not accept the recent claim that post-Justinianic coins (of Heraclius and Constantine III (so perhaps sometime between 612 to 641) and unspecified ‘Arab’ issues) from beneath the paving should re-date the street to the Early Islamic period. The contextual control of the excavation here was very poor, with intrusive pottery present, because of subsequent ‘recycling’ activities, as made clear by Lassus (1972) 39–40 (for Main Street Dig 19M): J. Magness, The Archaeology of the Early Islamic Settlement in Palestine (Winona Lake, IN 2003) 206–209. Lassus himself believed these coins reflected the continual repair and quarrying of the street for building materials. Furthermore, at dig VII.16-O Sud, Lassus admits again to not having any clear chronology from coins and pottery, on account of the confused nature of the stratigraphy (Lassus (1972) 95). Here he records that coins above the paving date not from Late Antiquity, but from the Muslim period onwards, with the first Byzantine coin being of John I Tzimiskès (AD 969–76) (Lassus (1972) 90). It is worth pointing out that one of the ‘Byzantine’ coins listed on Lassus (1972) 40 was found at 82.20 MASL, which is well below the height of the Early Roman paving at 83.92 MASL, shown on p. 35 plan 20, plus fig. 53. The absence of stratigraphic control does make one suspicious about the value of this information. Admittedly, the paving of the site III.19-M, from which the coins were derived, is relatively intact (p. 27 plan 14). But it did have some large holes through it, which might have allowed contamination. Whilst there might have been some repairs to the Justinianic street, the date at which the street was raised up and rebuilt does not need to be revised. Lassus’ use of Procopius to date the higher phase to the reign of Justinian (evident in his conclusions on Lassus (1972) 148–51) seems justified by the specifics of the description of Aed. 2.10.21. This text describes extensive earthmoving and the levelling of the open spaces of the city, prior to rebuilding work. Procopius mentions the division of the destroyed city into blocks by means of streets, with water channels and sewers, as well as the building of ‘stoas’. The excavations revealed that there was only one attested major late

antique restoration on the street and that this did indeed follow the earlier road plan (for example: a side street also not restored: see appendix J3 below). The ‘Justinianic’ phase raised the road level by 1 m in some places (90 cm above the Roman level on Lassus (1972) 30), with the reconstructed section on Lassus (1972) 94 plan LII. The style of the paving (reused basaltic lava blocks laid in imperfect parallel rows of uneven width) also suggests one phase of building work across the whole main street, though the ‘round plaza’ has perhaps more complex phasing (see appendix K1b). The major use of basalt, in contrast to the side streets, and the ‘grand-plan’ of the works on what was obviously the first street to be restored in any urban renewal, fits very well with that described by Procopius, and the absence of any trace of an earlier late antique repair, as seen at Caesarea or in other places, makes me want to keep the works as Justinianic. Thus, in the absence of stratigraphically recorded finds from the street I accept the testimony of Procopius in interpreting the major late antique rebuild of the street. In conformity to the rules of this study, I will work with a date range of 25 years after 540 for the primary late antique rebuilding of the street, which takes us up to the death of Justinian. Repairs to the street after the phase established at the ‘Justinianic phase’ are possible, as suggested at the round plaza (K1b) but cannot be given a firm chronology, as for example in repairs to the portico mosaic. Dating summary (for rebuilding of street): range 540– 65, midpoint 552.5, class x (historical text), publication 3/3. Poor. Dating summary (drains in both porticoes and their renewals): range 540+, undated, class x (historical text), publication 3/3. 15ORI Apamea in Syria (main north-south colonnaded street, Cardo): There seems to have been a comprehensive renovation of the main north-south colonnaded street, excepting the portico colonnades themselves. As we need only two elements of a street to count as a renovation in my definition, this counts as a colonnaded street renovation. The road surface was raised and given new sidewalks, whilst the drains under the road, connected to side drains in the porticoes, were re-laid using capping materials derived from the earlier and now redundant road surface. This seems to have been one phase. It is possible that the repainting of the façades of the shops behind also belongs in this phase, although this cannot be proven, so I have discussed it separately in appendix C5. I do not consider the honorific columns on the street to be contemporary with this renovation, but do accept that the tetrastylon is likely to be contemporary: see appendices F2 and F10. Of dimensions, one can extract rough measurements from a small-scale map of H. Lacoste, “La VIIe campagne de fouilles à Apamée”, L’Antiquité Classique 10.1 (1941) (115–21)

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters pl. 2 fig. 2, but these relate mainly to elements established before Late Antiquity. The east portico seems to be ca. 8 m wide, and the west portico ca. 7.5 m wide, whereas the roadway is ca. 18 m, from which should be deducted two sidewalks each of ca. 3.175 m (see below), leaving a road space of ca. 11.65 m, and making a total street width (from portico back wall to back wall) of ca. 33.5 m. It should be stressed that these are very rough measurements, with the exception of the widths of the sidewalks, which are median measurements from what is given below. Of the portico, a mosaic floor on the main north-south road of AD 469 (large-scale figural scenes with geometric borders) was covered by a second ‘rich paving of marble’: Ja. and J.-Ch Balty, “Le cadre topographique et historique”, in Apamée de Syrie. Bilan des recherches archéologiques, 1965– 1968: Actes du colloque tenu à Bruxelles les 29 et 30 Avril, ed. J. Balty 1969 (Fouilles d’Apamée de Syrie Miscellanea 6) (Brussels 1969) (29–46) 41, probably to compensate for work on the drains which had damaged it (described below). This is confirmed as marble paving by J. Mertens, “Sondages dans la grande colonnade et sur l’enceinte”, in Apamée de Syrie. Bilan des recherches archéologiques 1965–1968: Actes du colloque tenu à Bruxelles les 29 et 30 avril 1969, ed. J. Balty (Fouilles d’Apamée de Syrie Miscellanea 6) (Brussels 1969) (61–72) 67; C. Dulière, Mosaïque des portiques de la grande colonnade (Miscellanea 3) (Brussels 1974) 9 who notes that the paving was of large slabs of white marble, and that gutters also cut the mosaic which it overlay. Thanks to S. Kamani pers. comm. for the last reference. Of road paving, an orthogonal paving of limestone (“calcaire dur”), was established some 25–55 cm higher than the original polygonal paving in the 6th c. AD: J.Ch. Balty, “Apamée au VIe siècle. Témoignages archéologiques de la richesse d’une ville”, in Hommes et richesses dans l’empire byzantin, vol. 1, edd. G. Dagron et al. (Paris 1989) (79–86) 80–81. This paving can be seen on Mertens (1969) fig. 2a with the earlier paving on fig. 2b. Fig. 2a shows that we have here a paving of new-cut rectangular stone slabs sorted into exactly parallel rows, very closely fit. The slab size varies from ca. 0.3 m to 2.2 m in east-west length and ca. 0.6 m to 0.8 m in north-south width, hand-measuring off the plan. Balty, following Mertens (1969) 61 has claimed that this paving is inferior in quality to that below, despite it being more handsomely arranged in close-fit parallel rows. He bases this remark on the paving thickness, but one should note that this phase of paving is associated with pedestrianisation (below), so the choice may have been deliberate, as lighter traffic was now to be expected on this route: J.Ch. Balty, “Tetrakionia de l’époque de Justinien sur la grande colonnade d’Apamée”, Syria 77 (2000) (227–37) 228. Of the sidewalks, these were established at the time of the laying of the orthogonal paving on the street, and seem

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to be of the same material from the road section (Mertens (1969) fig. 3), and to be [new-cut] rectangular slabs laid in parallel rows of uneven width similar to the road paving from the plan of fig. 2a (where they are encumbered by blocks [?architraves from the portico] now laid on top of them). The sidewalk blocks shown on the section (marked ‘5’) are visibly slightly above the 6th c. paving level fig. 3. The sidewalks measured 2.75 m to 3.6 m wide [from which I use the median of 3.175 m cited above], built against the stylobate of the porticoes, actually on the road space: Balty (1989) 82. These sidewalks are also associated with some east-west steps, installed on the street, which blocked the Cardo: J. and J. Ch. Balty, “Le cadre topographique et historique”, in Apamée de Syrie. Bilan des recherches archéologiques 1965–1968: Actes du colloque tenu à Bruxelles les 29 et 30 avril 1969, ed. J. Balty (Fouilles d’Apamée de Syrie Miscellanea 6) (Brussels 1969) (29–46) 41. The resulting arrangement pedestrianised the Cardo (see appendix A7b). Balty notes that restoration work has revealed that in some places the sidewalks were installed directly on the old orthogonal road paving, without a new polygonal paving: Balty (1989) 83. Of sewers, a new drain was installed under the street (on the west side close to the portico) as part of the 6th c. paving works on the north-south street. It was 40 cm wide and ca. 1.4 m deep (partly measuring off fig. 3), floored with tiles and with carefully built walls of reused stones. The sidewalk foundation seems to have been built at the same time. Connected drains cut through the portico mosaic dated by an inscription within it of AD 469 (see appendix C6a). Thus, the drain and its feeders are thought to be contemporary with the 6th c. repaving of the main street, in which the wider drainage system appears to be set. Notably, the cover slabs of the main drain (which probably had a twin, set against the eastern portico) were re-laid using capping materials derived from the earlier and now redundant road surface: Mertens (1969) 67–67. Of dating, the chronology is based on sondage ‘AP.68.V’, just south of the crossroads of the city’s main axes, which has revealed ceramics in the layer (couche 4) between the original and late road pavement, to which the sidewalks, sewers and drains are structurally connected. The ceramics have been identified as several fragments of LRC Phocaean Red Slip ware (form 3, though form 3e may be implied) dated to the late 5th / early 6th c. [of which only 3E is dated to 487.5–500 Atlante]: J. Napoleone-Lemaire and J. Balty, Apamée 1.1 L’église à atrium de la grande colonnade (Brussels 1969); Mertens (1969) esp. 63 and 67; C. Foss, “Syria in transition, AD 550–750: an archaeological approach”, DOP 51 (1997) (189–269) 208 n. 59. I have checked the drawings of Mertens (1969) 63 fig. 4 with LRP and it does appear that the second illustrated pot resembles LRC 3E, although they are not identical, whilst a stamp of a cross with ?splayed

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ends, recorded on one of the pots looks closest to LRC stamp 79R, which Hayes LRP pp. 366–68 suggests is late 5th to mid-6th c. date. I will take this ceramic evidence as providing a contextual date range for the street paving of the 25 years around 500, taking the start date of the last find as 487.5, as the report does not permit me to do otherwise. The treatment of the ceramics in the report does not reach the standard established in ceramic studies by Hayes in LRP / SLRP, but is quite good for its time. Dating summary: range 487.5–512.5, midpoint 500, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 3/3. 15ORI Beirut (Berytus) (BEY 148): At the corner of Maarad Street and Emir Bechir Street (lot 1131), recent excavations revealed the southern part of the porticoed street, previously exposed by Lauffray in the 1930s. The combined results of both excavations suggest the street was ca. 8 m in width. The northern (Lauffray) portico was 5.2 m in width, whereas the southern portico (BEY 148) was 4.4 m in width [This must mean that 8.8 m is the roadway, giving a total street width of 17.6 m from portico back wall to back wall]. In terms of dating, we only here that: “The ceramics associated with the mosaics suggest a date in the 4–6th century A.D.”: H.H. Curvers and B. Stuart, “The BCD Archaeology Project 2000–2006”, Bulletin d’Archéologie et d’Architecture Libanaises 9 (2007) (189–221) online version of article without page numbers: https://www.academia.edu/238267/ Beirut_BCD_Archeology_Project_2000-2006 (last accessed December 2014). I am not able to tell whether this was a colonnaded street renovation with two rebuilt porticoes or just a new mosaic laid in existing porticoes. To err on the side of caution, I have taken this information as representing the rebuilding of the porticoes on both sides of the road. Dating summary: range 300–600, midpoint 450, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 2/3. 15ORI Palmyra (section C of the Great Colonnade, west of the oval plaza): This part of the colonnaded street, being ca. 540 m in length, has not been the subject of more than a smattering of stratigraphic excavations. For overviews of its chronology see M. Barañski, “The Great Colonnade of Palmyra reconsidered”, Aram 7 (1995) (37–46) 43–46; A. Ostrasz, “Note sur le plan de la partie médiane de la rue principale à Palmyre”, Annales Archéologiques Arabes Syriennes 19 (1969) 109–20 with a plan at the end of the article. Here I am not looking to provide an exhaustive description of the primary phases but rather to work out the chronology of late repair, most of which seems to be archaeologically invisible. To this we can add recent excavation reports from the centre of the north side of section C: M. Gawlikowski, “Palmyra excavations 1996”, Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean 8 (1996) (191–97) 192–94 with 192 fig. 1; Gawlikowski (1997) 208–209 with fig. 5 (a plan of the portico area). An overview summary, linking

the excavations of the insula extending north of the colonnade to the portico, is M. Zuchowska “Palmyra Excavations 2002–2005 (Insula east By The Great Collonade [sic])”, Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean 16 (2005) (439–50) 442–50. Further excavations on the road itself were carried out by M. Zuchowska, “Palmyra: test trench in the street of the Great Colonnade”, Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean 14 (2003) 291–94. Of original phasing, a basic level of understanding can be obtained from limited excavations in different parts of its length. For the primary construction of Section C, one might note a portico of 8 columns dated to before AD 158 by an honorific inscription of this year on one of them, situated in the centre of the north side of section C of this colonnaded street: J. Cantineau, Inventaire des inscriptions de Palmyre, vol. 3 (Beirut 1930) no. 26 = edd. K. As’ad and J.-B. Yon, Inscriptions de Palmyre. Promenades épigraphiques dans la ville de Palmyre (Guides archéologiques de l’IFAPO 3) (Beirut 2001) 72 no. 21 = J.-B. Yon, IGLS 17.1 Palmyre (Bibliothèque archéologique et historique 195) (Beirut 2012) 88–89. The presence of a paved sidewalk of a width of 1.4 m, in front of the portico is significant, as this indicates the presence of wheeled traffic or at least animals on the main avenue [i.e. the street was not pedestrianised]: M. Gawlikowski, “Palmyra excavations 1997”, Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean 9 (1997) (197–211) 209; M. Gawlikowski, “Palmyra Season 1999”, Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean 11 (1999) (249–60) 259 fig. 8. Of late phasing, the street seems to have been restored at least once. The first occasion may have come after the sack of Palmyra by Aurelian in AD 272, the first occasion being just outside the date range for our period: W. Thiel, “Tetrakionia. Überlegungen zu einem Denkmaltypus tetrarchischer Zeit im Osten des römischen Reiches”, AnTard 10 (2002) (299–326) 321 with nn. 132–33 believes the street system of Palmyra in this part of the city is post-Aurelianic and that this part of the colonnade is also post-Aurelianic in its primary build. He cites literary evidence (SHA Aurel. 31.5–10, Zos. 1.54–61, Festus Breviarium 24, Eutr. 9.13.2) for a severe second destruction of the city in AD 272 by the army of Aurelian (270–75), which involved the destruction of public monuments. Whilst it is not possible to link this event to actual recorded damage on the street, it is an event worth bearing in mind. A first possible restoration comes in 279–80, with a dedication recovered from this part of the street by the tribe of Bene Matthabol in honour of a father and son charged with the construction of the portico roof over the ‘Great Basilica of Arsu’ (which is the very central section of the street): K. As’ad and M. Gawlikowski, “New Honorific Inscriptions in the Great Colonnade of Palmyra”, AAAS 36–37 (1986– 1987) (164–71) 167–68. Although it is possible that the original project was simply incomplete by 279–80, its proximity

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters in time to the sack of the city by Aurelian suggests that this was a restoration. Further evidence for a restoration may come from a coin minted under Aurelian (270–75) found in layers underneath the northern shops towards the east end of this section of the colonnaded street (sondage north opposite Umayyad shop 14, ca. 45 m west of the oval plaza), at the level of the footing of the foundation of the shop walls, suggesting that the shops were also rebuilt: K. As’ad and F.N. Stepniowski, “The Umayyad Sūq in Palmyra”, DM 4 (1989) 205–23, esp. 211. This first restoration may be associated with a level of stone paving established in the portico, above the level of the column bases, and a new higher gravel road surface, established at the same height, for which see below. A second restoration is suggested by an inscription of 327/28 from the centre of the north side of section C, from the same column as the inscription of 158, cited above, recording works by Flavius Diogenes, curator. It describes a restoration of the portico which had ‘lain destroyed for a long time’: J. Cantineau, Inventaires des inscriptions de Palmyre 3 (Beirut 1930–36) no. 27 = edd. K. As’ad and J.-B. Yon, Inscriptions de Palmyre. Promenades épigraphiques dans la ville de Palmyre (Guides archéologiques de l’IFAPO 3) (Beirut 2001) 73 no. 22. = J.-B. Yon IGLS 17.1 Palmyre (Bibliothèque archéologique et historique 195) (Beirut 2012) 101. Excavations in the area around the column with this inscription (reports listed at the start of this entry) have sought to understand this restoration in archaeological terms. The elements of the ‘late’ phasing, revealed by recent excavations, are as follows [although it is not entirely certain if they all belong together]: (i) A row of 6 cellular rooms behind the north portico (originally 4 one room units and a passage) was rebuilt as 4 one-room units and 2 passages: Zuchowska (2005) 445–47 with 446 fig. 4 (phase 4 plan), showing units that measure internally ca. 3.2 m to 4 m wide and ca. 5 m deep, hand-measuring off the plan. One room is foreshortened at the back by ca. 1.5 m to create a possible cupboard or stairs area. (ii) In the portico, a layer of stone paving [which appears to correspond with the thresholds of the replanned shops on fig. 4] covers over the column bases of the colonnade: Zuchowska (2003) 293. The slabs as shown on fig. 4 are laid in sections of short rows aligned with the portico, which are interrupted by single lateral rows of slabs. The slabs are of different rectangular sizes, sorted into parallel rows of irregular width, closely-fitted, without cutting to fit, and no obvious signs of reuse. The sizes vary between ca. 0.35 m by 0.17 m and ca. 1.65 m by 0.6 m (although the very longest slabs are more like 0.5 m wide), very roughly hand-measuring of the low-res plan in the PDF of the report. These slabs bring the portico to a higher level than the road as planned at the time of construction. (iii) In her first report, Zuckowska notes that

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Road level 3 corresponds to the original use of the portico, whilst road level 4 corresponds with the higher use of the portico (the raised paving level), and that both road surfaces were in gravel: Zuchowska (2003) 293. Unfortunately, there are many uncertainties in these preliminary reports. Zuchowska (2003) 293 believes that the inscription of AD 158 provides a dating basis for the first phase and that road level 4 and the portico paving corresponds to the work of 327/28. However, she subsequently retracted this, by stating that in AD 327/28, the street level had not yet risen above the plinth levels of the columns, without making it clear whether she was referring to street level 3 or 4, or how she has dated these levels: Zuchowska (2005) 448. Furthermore, no specific ceramic evidence is described from either the street sondage or the portico to produce solid dates. However, Zuchowska (2005) 447–48 wants now to link the overall rebuilding to the development of the insula behind, to a phase which she would like to date to the second half of the 4th c., based it seems on a 4th c. pottery assemblage from room A13. Overall, we are confronted with a difficult situation. The phasing justification of the report and especially the attribution of dating evidence to phases are not clear, and so needs to be disregarded, until further publications appear, which is a great pity given the high quality of the plans. There are clearly two major phases of shops, two major phases of the portico colonnade, (at least) two major phases of portico paving, and two major phases of the roadway. In the absence of finds which would date these elements independently, it seems reasonable to argue that we have two major unified phases of building, the best basis for dating coming from the associated inscriptions. It is a pity that we do not have a late antique TAQ for the works, though two phases of beaten earth floors were recorded within the portico which correspond with the building of a row of shops on the street space itself dated to the 8th to 9th c. by pottery and coins: Gawlikowski (1997) 207. Dating summary (first restoration, just before the late antique period): 279/80, midpoint 279.5, class Cs6 (absolute, inscription in situ), publication 3/3. Dating summary (second restoration): 327/28, midpoint 327.5, class Cs6 (absolute, inscription in situ), publication 3/3. 15ORI Bostra (Bosra) (main east-west street, eastern section, just west of the so-called Exedra, north side): Two elements of the north side of the street, perhaps three, were rebuilt in Late Antiquity. For some reason, the north and south sides of the street have been treated separately in the reports, despite their elements directly facing each other. The suggested chronology of works for both sides is different, but is currently shaky. For the north side of the street see: P.-M. Blanc et al., “La rue principale est-ouest, entre l’arc

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nabatéen et le tétrapyle”, in Bosra aux portes de l’Arabie, edd. J. Dentzer-Feydy, M. Vallerin and M. Fournet (Guides Archéologiques de L’institut Français du Proche-Orient 5) (Amman 2007a) (227–29) 229, with plan on T. Fournet “Les thermes du centre (‘Khan ed Dibs’)” in the Bosra volume above (2007) (243–53) 244. Of dimensions, the plans are inadequate for the street, as they are not sufficiently detailed, and are spilt into different sections across the street. Nevertheless, the plan of Fournet (2007) 244 shows the north portico (ending in an apse) of ca. 7.2 m wide, from back wall to front of stylobate, hand-measuring off the drawing. The shops behind are largely reconstructed in their dimensions, though a row of single-room cellular units is likely, given three thresholds recorded opening on to the portico, and the overall space available, which is triangular, and so must have involved shops with ever narrower depth dimensions, from east to west, of maximum internal horizontal depth (at the east) of 5 m, whilst the visible shops seem to have been ca. 2.9 m wide internally, judging from the spacing of the surviving doorways. Of architectural elements, in the north portico, a new mosaic was laid dating to the 4th c., (no justification given, and N.B. that contradicted below), then repaired, and was finally replaced by a limestone paving after earthquake destruction in the second half of the 5th c.: Blanc et al. (2007a) 229. The surveyors propose that this mosaic was apparently accompanied by the rebuilding of the shops on this northern side of the street, which fronted the Central Baths, although no structural observations are provided to support this. The excavators speculate that the portico would also have been rebuilt at this time, although this might have been limited to the roof. The shops apparently had marble revetment held by bronze tabs, until a repair in the second half of the 5th c. This final remark is odd, given the rebuilding of the shops alluded to above, unless the shops were only partially rebuilt, leaving part of the original wall surviving, with traces of revetment. Of decoration, the portico mosaic is described in detail by M.-T. Olszewski and P.-M. Blanc, “La mosaïque”, in the same Bosra volume (63–66) 63, with photo on fig. 1. The mosaic is described as being geometric, set in large panels bordered by red tesserae, featuring flowers with 4 petals, with a Knot of Solomon at their centre, with this decoration considered to date from the 5th c. The presence of repeats (reprises) and deformations in the mosaic show that it was repaired after a destruction event, probably an earthquake. The photo is of a short exposed section revealing that the red tesserae are borders for the panels which are 4 tesserae thick, and that beyond them lie white tesserae. There is only one Knot of Solomon here and a rosette. Thus, it is not clear if other parts of the mosaic seen here

once existed, or if it is a single unified design or separate carpets with a common border. Of the dating, we only have stylistic speculations for the portico mosaic. The fact that the surveyors of the street (proposing 4th c.) and the mosaic specialist (proposing 5th c.) do not agree within the same book, implies that the mosaic is not securely dated, although it is probably late antique from its polychrome but geometric and vegetal style. They suggest the repairs took place following an earthquake (perhaps that affecting Sidon and Tyre in AD 303/304; Beirut in 348/349, Jerusalem in 361 and 419, Areopolis in 365, Tripoli (Syria) in 450–457 or Antioch in 458 [Guidoboni Catalogo nos 124, 132, 134, 151, 138, 157, 158]. This use of earthquake dating again reveals a shaky grasp of chronology, with no stratigraphic finds or structural observations to support this chronology. There is so far nothing published to date the construction of the shops on this side of the road either. Overall, the mosaic undoubtedly looks to be late in style, and street portico mosaics are a common feature of the 5th to 6th c. in this region. Thus, this renovation can only be tentatively attributed to the late 3rd to early 7th c., with the final limestone floor being sometime within this period or the subsequent Umayyad period (ending ca. 750). Unfortunately, this is too vague to allow serious dating. Dating summary (mosaic and rebuilding of shops): Undated. Dating summary (repair to mosaic): Undated. Dating summary (limestone paving over mosaic): Undated. 15ORI Bostra (Bosra) (main east-west street, eastern section, just west of the so-called Exedra, south side): Two elements of the south side of the street, perhaps three, were rebuilt in Late Antiquity. For some reason, the north and south sides of the street are treated separately in the reports, despite their elements directly facing each other. The suggested chronology of works for both sides is different, and is currently shaky. For the south side of the street, see: P.-M. Blanc et al., “La rue principale est-ouest, entre l’arc nabatéen et le tétrapyle”, in Bosra aux portes de l’Arabie, edd. J. DentzerFeydy, M. Vallerin and M. Fournet (Guides Archéologiques de L’institut Français du Proche-Orient 5) (Amman 2007a) (227–29) 227–28. See also the report of J.-M. Dentzer et al., “Le développement urbain de Bosra de l’époque nabatéenne à l’époque byzantine: bilan des recherches françaises 1981–2002”, Syria 79 (2002) (75–154) 104–105. For a plan see: H. Broise and T. Fournet “Les thermes du sud” in the Bosra volume above (2007) 220, especially for the shops marked ‘boutiques’. For another plan of the area immediately to the east see P.-M. Blanc, T. Fournet, J. Dentzer-Feydy, and M. Vallerin, “Le quartier d’habitations à l’est des thermes du Sud”, in the Bosra volume above (2007b) (211–212) 212.

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters Of architectural features, shops were installed on the southern side of the street by cutting down the northern perimeter wall of the Southern Baths to make the space required, an act which would have likely necessitated the rebuilding, or at least the reroofing, of the portico. At the same time, the stone paving of the street was raised up by 30 cm, here and also at the neighbouring crossroads: Blanc et al. (2007a) 227–28. The road paving was likely all of the same grey ?limestone paving seen elsewhere in the roads of Bostra, rectangular slabs laid in fairly regular rows, as seen next to the exedra, in this part of the street, on http://image.shutterstock. com/display_pic_with_logo/180238/180238,1268427516,1/ stock-photo-syria-bosra-paving-stones-of-the-decumanus-street-and-basalt-columns-of-the-nymphaeumwith-48524092.jpg (last accessed January 2015). Sidewalks, drawn as a line running in front of both porticoes on the plan of Blanc et al. (2007b) 212 and illustrated in a photo Dentzer et al. (2002) 227, revealing that the south sidewalk at least was composed of medium-sized rectangular basalt slabs laid in parallel rows perpendicular with the edge of the portico, which were likely also re-laid at this time, though this is not stated explicitly. The same photo seems to show the road paving of medium-sized basalt rectangular rows laid in parallel on a diagonal alignment in relation to the porticoes. Of dimensions, the plans are inadequate for the street, as they are not sufficiently detailed, and are spilt into different sections across the street. Nevertheless, the plan Broise and Fournet (2007) 220 shows a south portico of ca. 5 m wide, from back wall to front of stylobate, handmeasuring off the drawing. For the sidewalks, it is only possible to derive a measurement from the south side from the plan of Blanc et al. (2007b) 212 of ca. 2 m wide, hand-measuring roughly off the plan. Of dating, the southern shops were apparently installed during the 6th c.: see Blanc et al. (2007a) 227–28, which does not provide reasons for this chronology. I have not yet been able to locate the dating basis for this. Dating summary: range 500–600, midpoint 550, class 0, publication 1/3. Poor. 15ORI Gerasa (Decumanus North, between tetrapylon and north theatre portico): On this east-west street, the Ionic colonnade, survived partly in situ on the stylobate on both sides of the road, permitting the final extant arrangement of mixed architectural materials to be observed, rather than a pile of stones which might have been sorted into their ‘original’ architectural families. Two porticoes are enough for the site to qualify as a ‘renovated colonnaded street’, according to my definition, although there is a possibility that this might date from the later 2nd or 3rd c. AD. For a report, see W. Ball, J. Bowsher, I. Kehrberg, A. Walmsley and

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P. Watson, “The North Decumanus and North Tetrapylon at Jerash. An archaeological and architectural report”, in Jerash Archaeological Project I, ed. F. Zayadine (Amman 1986) (351–460) 389–92 with 370 fig. 10 (trench location plan) with p. 380 fig. 15 (plan) and p. 382 fig. 16 (section of trench D1). Of dimensions, the porticoes are given as being 4.25 m wide (p. 391), but with the stylobate, plan 15 on p. 380 shows the porticoes to measure each ca. 5.3 m. The width of the road itself is ca. 7.4 m and there appears to be a 0.9 m ‘true sidewalk’ on each side (or perhaps some lateral slabs), making the full street width from portico back wall to back wall 19.8 m. Due to uncertainty over the date of the road paving, I do not describe it here. There is no reason to think that any of the street apart from the colonnades above the stylobate date from Late Antiquity. Of architectural features, the colonnades were made of reused material, as the drums do not fit their bases, with one at S.7 (in the southern portico) having a drum some 20 mm wider than its base. In the northern portico, one drum (at N6) is set upside down, though was found tilting off its base by 45 degrees, making displacement possible. This architectural arrangement is a contrast to the Oval Plaza for example, where the columns “almost invariably fit their bases” (p. 390). On the colonnade section (p. 382 fig. 16), the colonnade S4 measures ca. 5.4 m including a column of two parts (ca. 4.55 m), an Ionic capital (ca. 0.3 m) and Ionic base (ca. 0.55 m), from my estimation of boundaries, measuring off the drawing. The porticoes [described as ‘sidewalks’] of this street were probably composed of stone slabs, present in a few places, but mostly they appeared to the excavators as rough gravel or greyish cement, indicating that the slabs had already been robbed out and replaced in Antiquity (p. 391). Of dating, the chronology of this development is uncertain (p. 393), and can only be suggested in relation to surrounding buildings. The monumentalisation of the Decumanus North with paving is thought to date from the construction of the North Theatre in AD 165/66, which the street serves, and which is perhaps also the date of the tetrapylon. Technically, the Decumanus North colonnades seem (from the sequence of the report, if not from observations) to post-date the tetrapylon, which was certainly built by AD 222–35 (date of inscription carved on it, based on titulature of the legion). A more convincing dating indication is that the colonnades, which were built using Ionic material taken from the Cardo colonnades. This likely happened after the late 2nd c. as the Cardo colonnaded were changed to the Corinthian order at this time. Furthermore, a broad flight of stairs leading to the theatre, possibly associated with its rebuilding of “AD 320”, given on p. 392 as “230”, crosses over the Decumanus colonnade, although

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there are no archaeological observations published so far to support this. According to A. Walmsley (pers. comm.) AD 320 is a typo and 230 is the correct date, relating to an inscription from the theatre portico of the reign of Alexander Severus (AD 222–35). Finally, the nearby “North Theatre Church” includes some Ionic columns suspected to have come from the street. Most of these assumptions are problematic, as they rely on associating different building phases that might in reality be far more complex than one imagines. We might note that the presence of reused material, poorly assembled, does suggest a date from the mid 3rd c. onwards, even if such reuse could theoretically be possible at an earlier date given the large-scale 2nd c. building works on the Cardo, where it appears to derive from. Given that the colonnades are badly re-erected, one cannot help suspecting a late antique date, or perhaps a late antique repair, rather than a mid 2nd c. construction. A firm TAQ is at least available: the Decumanus North apparently later filled up with hill wash in the late 6th to 7th c., based on the presence of 6th to 7th c. ceramics (p. 357), notably lamps on p. 371, which are stated to be of this date, though details of their archaeological context is not clear. Dating summary: Undated, because it straddles two periods potentially (range 150 to 643.75, midpoint 396.87, class Cs4 (reused material), Cs3 (associative phase of development), publication 3/3. Poor. 15ORI Scythopolis (road to north-west gate): an east-west colonnaded street with sidewalks and colonnaded porticoes has been excavated that is very narrow. It is nevertheless a major artery leading from the city centre to the north-west gate: M. Peleg, “Bet-Sh’ean: a paved street and adjacent remains”, ‘Atiqot, 25 (1994) 139–55, which summarises this author’s excavation and earlier excavations of the street. Of dimensions, the approximate measurements for the street (excavated in areas A to C), taken off plans 2 and 3 can be summarised as follows: southern portico (back wall to street side of stylobate) 4.7 m, true sidewalk 0.8 m, roadway 6.2 m, northern portico 5 m, making a total street width of 16.7 m. The precise characteristics of the street were however, somewhat irregular. In section A (pp. 140– 41), porticoes (mistakenly labelled “sidewalks”) were discovered, with basalt stylobates ca. 1 m to 1.1 m wide and architectural elements in association (columns fallen onto the street), which were also recovered further east along the line of the street (p. 145). The portico adjacent to area A (i.e. area C) was in beaten earth or possibly had been robbed out (p. 142), whilst apparently no surface was found in the putative southern portico (area D, p. 144), so this too may have had beaten earth. In area A, on the southern side, was found what I myself would call a ‘sidewalk’, but which the report calls a step. This was a narrow stone pavement of flagstones (L11a) running in front of the portico, but

separate from the road traffic, measuring ca. 0.8 m wide, built of stone blocks (p. 140). In area E1 (p. 145) a portico (‘sidewalk’) of 3–3.5 m, with a stylobate, was observed on the south side of the road, with architectural fragments and fallen columns found on the road itself. In this section, in front of the southern portico, there was also a short part of what is probably a true sidewalk (visible on plan 2 on p. 141). In section B, water pipes in units of 10 cm by 10 cm were laid either side of the street and below it (p. 141). Of architectural features, there are no published details on the colonnade, although one column (?fragment or complete) shown lying across the street, in area E1, measured ca. 5 m, on p. 141 plan 2. It should be noted that on plan 3 the eastern portico back wall includes a transverse wall that cuts across the portico, meaning that it was not a continuous portico. Indeed, the street is very irregular in its course, and it may not have had continuous porticoes along its whole length. Of paving, the road was covered with roughly hewn rectangular basalt flagstones, with no reuse reported. The flagstones measured 0.25–0.45 m by 0.40–0.75 m by 0.12–0.20 m, being wedge shaped underneath and set into a layer of stones and packed earth ca. 0.45 m thick (p. 139). The flagstones were sorted into rows laid diagonally to the direction of travel, not in a herringbone pattern but in a single diagonal, running across the road, with occasional changes in direction (see p. 141 plan 2). Of shops, behind the eastern portico (in area C, pp. 142– 43) is a cellular room (likely a shop, internal dimensions of ca. 3 m by 3.4 m, measuring off plan 3 on p. 142). It has a geometric mosaic floor later covered by a “stone pavement of irregularly sized stones”. The earlier floor is described as a “yellowish-cream mosaic with black and red outlined octagons which form lozenges at their intersections and are centred with diamonds”. Of dating, we have several elements: (i) Pottery from beneath the road (in section A?) has suggested a 5th c. construction date according to the excavator (p. 145). However, it is not easy to relate the pottery list and its loci to the site’s sequence, as there is no complete list of the nature of locii or of their sequence, despite the obvious high quality of the excavation (pp. 146–51). (ii) In the cellular room behind the eastern portico (in area C, pp. 142–43), the earlier mosaic has a cross depicted near the threshold and has been suggested as dating to the 6th c. based on parallels with the 6th c. church at Magen, which I do not wish to base a date for the street on (p. 142), as Magen is not a high-status monument from which influence might come. Overall, given that the road construction depends on contextual ceramics but the shop features are only dated on stylistic criteria, I prefer a 5th c. date for the ensemble. This choice also seems reasonable given the date of the

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters portico disuse, suggested below. I give the dating range as the whole of the 5th c., as the report does not allow more precision. Of subsequent phasing, we hear that in section A, the porticoes possibly went out of use before the end of the 6th c. (p. 145, though no details of chronology are given). There are also later structures built on the street here (sector E1). There is no information on their date, although they are made of collapsed architectural elements such as architraves and limestone blocks (perhaps part of a monumental gate). This suggests that the structures were built in the post-antique period when the area was ruinous (p. 145). Dating summary: range 400–500, midpoint 450, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 2/3. 15ORI Scythopolis (Palladius Street): This colonnaded street runs south-west from the city centre, between the western baths and the ‘Byzantine Agora’. It qualifies as a late antique colonnaded street, as the laying of the first paving and the renewal of the shops belong together chronologically, even if it has not been demonstrated, by published connected stratigraphy, that they have the same phase. The street has complex phasing, with many stages of construction, about which there has been a degree of confusion. For this reason it needs to be treated with caution. The renewal of the portico mosaic, paving, and sidewalk occur within the 6th c., but apparently at different dates so cannot be considered to form a second coherent rebuilding of a colonnaded street. On confusion over its chronology see, for example, Y. Tsafrir and G. Foerster, “Urbanism at Scythopolis-Bet Shean in the fourth to seventh centuries”, DOP 51 (1997) (85–146) 114 (also admitting a mixing of pottery from later repairs with foundation levels in some sondages). The main structural elements visible today are two porticoes, both fronted by sidewalks, the north-west of which gives access to a row of shops that have been largely interrupted by a sigma plaza, which has been cut into the centre of the portico. The south-west portico gives onto a blank wall, behind which shops open in the opposite direction onto the ‘Byzantine Agora’. Of dimensions, the width of the street from the back wall of the portico / front wall of the shops was ca. 25.5 m, of which 8 m was the west portico, ca. 6.5 m was the east portico, ca. 2 m was the west sidewalk, ca. 2 m the east sidewalk, and 7 m the roadway. These are very approximate figures, roughly measured off the plan of G. Foerster and Y. Tsafrir, “City center (north): excavations of the Hebrew University expedition”, in Excavations and Surveys in Israel 11 (1992) (The Beth She’an Excavation Project 1989–91) (3–32) fig. 2. Unfortunately, these measurements for the sidewalk do not match published statements below, raising the possibility that the plan that I have is a schematic one, rather than being a real stone plan. The width of the street when

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partially excavated was given by the excavators as follows: roadway 7.2–7.5 m, sidewalk on western side 1.7 m, colonnade including stylobate 7.1 m, sidewalk on east side more than 2.5 m in width: G. Foerster and Y. Tsafrir, “Hebrew University Expedition”: in “Beth Shean project 1988,” Excavations and Surveys in Israel 7–8 (1988–89) (15–22) 17, with a plan on p. 16 fig. 13. The measurements also do not fit with the sidewalk width measurements given below. Of architectural features, the north-east colonnade was composed of monolithic columns with Corinthian capitals, rather than drums with Ionic capitals, as on the south-west side. On the south-west side, Attic bases are integrated into the bottom column drums, whilst Ionic capitals are found on top. On the north-east side Attic bases are used, with the 4 westernmost extant columns also being supported by pedestals. The height of the columns is ca. 5 m, and the total colonnade height including capitals and bases ca. 5.5 m, estimating roughly from my photos. The road paving was of regularly-cut, well-laid basalt paving slabs, set diagonally in a herringbone pattern, with colonnades on each side, and with integrated shops behind those to the north-west. The last pavement of the portico (reused marble slabs), has been sectioned, revealing a mosaic under the present paving overlying the first construction phase of the colonnaded street. This mosaic is white with geometric designs and of a large-scale pattern, rather than a series of small non-matching carpets: L. Lavan site observations April 1998 plus G. Mazor, “Department of Antiquities expedition”, in: “The Bet Shean project—1988”, Excavations and Surveys in Israel 7–8 (1988–89) (22–32) 27–28. For the higher paving in reused marble slabs, which were also associated with a marble revetment for the shops of the Palladius Portico (which I saw in 1998), see R. BarNathan and G. Mazor, “City centre (south) and Tel Iztabba area: excavations of the Antiquities Authority Expedition”, Excavations and Surveys in Israel 11 (1992) (The Beth She’an Excavation Project 1989–91) (33–52) 43–44. A pedestrian sidewalk was set beyond the portico on each side of the road, which on the west side (where the excavator describes it as being 3.10 m wide and rising 0.8 m above street level) was composed of large limestone flagstones: Mazor (1987/88) 22. This is an obvious contradiction with my own measurements above taken from published plans. Of shops, the north-west side of the street has many, whilst the opposite side has none, as the shops here are turned to face the opposite direction, at a lower level. The north-west shops are shown on Mazor (1998–89) 26 fig. 25 plus Bar-Nathan and Mazor (1993) 43 fig. 60 [for the southern part] and Foerster and Tsafrir (1988–89) 16 fig. 13 [for the northern part]. The most complete plan is Tsafrir and Foerster (1997) fig. D, though it is not as detailed as its two component plans. There are now 8 cellular shops on the southern and also on northern ends of the north-west side

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of the street, giving 16 units in total, separated by the sigma plaza. It seems likely that there were originally 12 more shops, now buried under the sigma, which connected the row into one great planned endeavour. Another two shops were revealed at the south end, replanned as a single long room in a subsequent sub-phase. The surviving shops are almost identical one-room square units, with doorways leading out onto the street portico. In two cases they have been reduced slightly, where the sigma plaza has been built and a passageway has been placed to join the furnace area of the adjacent baths to the portico [which in one case creates a narrow unit which is divided into a front and back room]. The two rows of 8 shops have been excavated by different teams. The southern row shops are (with one exception) of dimensions ca. 3.5 m by 5 m, according to the main report, with walls of ashlar (basalt in the lower courses and limestone in the upper courses): Mazor (1987/88) 22. A wooden column originally stood in the centre of each shop, probably to support a wooden gallery, which was eliminated in a subsequent phase when the shop floors were raised, which probably occurred when the portico floor was raised [when the sigma plaza was installed in 506/507], as we also see shop thresholds raised and a new drainage system set within the shops here: Bar-Nathan and Mazor (1993) 42, who note that their width varies from 2.5 m to 4 m, which probably takes into account the one very narrow shop by the sigma. It seems that these second measures are the maximum range for internal shop width measurements, with the average being ca. 3.5 m wide and 5 m deep, based on what can be hand measured from the plan. The northern row shops measured internally 3.5 m wide by 5.5 m deep, with one shop paved in polychrome mosaic with geometric patterns and another with a plain white mosaic: G. Foerster and Y. Tsafrir “City center of Beth Shean—North” in “The Bet Shean Project”, in Excavations and Surveys in Israel 6 (1987/88) (24–35) 25 with plan of Foerster and Tsafrir (1988–89) 16 fig. 13. Of phasing and dating, the evidence is complex and sometimes confused, especially as regards the roadway, where pottery from later repairs has perhaps sometimes been mixed up with primary layers. Of earlier phasing, there is evidence of 2nd to 3rd c. occupation, before a 4th c. construction of both shops and road paving, which I will call ‘late phase 1’. It seems reasonable to associate both elements together in one phase given that their establishment involved a raising of the occupation level. Excavations beneath the shops at the north end of the street, revealed fragmentary floors with distinctive Roman material [likely meaning ceramics] dating to the 2nd and 3rd c. AD: Mazor (1987/88) 22–23 and Foerster and Tsafrir (1987/88) 25 both in: “The Bet Shean project”, Excavations and Surveys in Israel 6 (1987–88) 6–45. In these reports it is not stated whether the floors relate to shops or

not, although the earlier existence of shops here seems to be implied. The street surface connected with this earliest period of occupation is lost. Of late phase 1, we have evidence from both inside the shops and on the roadway. The latest of several levels of floors in the shops of the south end of the street are of the 4th c. (no dating evidence specified): Mazor (1987/88) 22–23. Floors under the shops had material of the 2nd and 3rd c. AD: Foerster and Tsafrir (1987/88) 25. Underneath the present roadway is a fill of the 2nd–3rd c. and at the latest 4th c. AD, covering over layers with pottery dated from the 1st c. BC and 1st c. AD. Trial trenches under an earlier set of paving slabs in one part of the street also revealed “no sherds later than the 4th century CE”. One coin was tentatively dated to the late 4th c. AD: G. Foerster and Y. Tsafrir, “The Beth Shean excavation project 1988/1989”, Excavations and Surveys in Israel 9 (1989–90) (120–28) 120–21. It also has to be admitted that the north portico is unlike any other work from Late Antiquity in the city, being composed of well-cut column drums (not monoliths) and Ionic capitals, identically spaced, of columns higher than used elsewhere: L. Lavan site observation April 1998 with Aoife Fitzgerald pers. comm. on the spacing. This portico is well-published, but surrounding stratigraphy suggests it may be 3rd c. (based on the presence of the fragmentary floors) or 4th c. (TAQ provided by the renewal of the shops). At present only the TAQ looks certain. Of late phase 2, the lower floor (of 2) in the portico has a mosaic inscription recalling the work done on both the mosaic and the ‘stoa’, which probably dates to the later 5th c. The mosaic reads: ‘In the time of Palladius Porphyrius, the most magnificent governor, the work of the stoa with the mosaic was done.’ The excavator Mazor (1988–89) 27–28 suggests that it is 4th c., but one suspects his dating derives from the archaeology of the street, not the mosaic itself. In contrast, L. Di Segni, “Epigraphic evidence for building in Palaestina and Arabia (fourthseventh c.)”, in The Roman and Byzantine Near East: Some Recent Archaeological Research, vol. 2, ed. J. Humphrey (Portsmouth, Rhode Island 1999) (149–78) 157 notes that the use of the title ἡγεμών indicates that this is a governor of Palestina Secunda, and so must date after the early 5th c. However, Roueché notes that the governor’s title μεγαλοπρεπέστατος (magnificentissimus) becomes current for illustres (high officers of state) only from the 460s, being first securely attested for a consul in 403 (as noted by ALA VI.26 commentary, drawing on O. Hornickel, Ehren- und Rangprädikate in den Papyrusurkunden (Giessen 1930) 28–29. The title was eventually used for a pater civitatis at Aphrodisias (ALA 89), a civic office dating from the later 5th and 6th c, and for a civic benefactor / pater / possible sitona (ALA 87) in the same period. Thus, we should expect that a provincial governor would acquire such a title only

APPENDIX 1: C3 New / Comprehensively Rebuilt Colonnaded Streets, Not Part of New Quarters after the mid 5th c., and probably in the last quarter of the 5th c. Fortunately, the mosaic is given a TAQ of 506/507, because of the phasing associations of the marble floor which covers it (see below). For a detailed description of the Palladius mosaic see appendix C6a. Of late phase 3, we have a new portico floor, with shop thresholds, secondary shop floors and shop revetment all associated with a slight rise in the occupation level. It is important to note that the higher reused marble paving, set over the mosaic within the portico, is associated with the steps bounding the adjacent Sigma Plaza. The latter has an outer border facing onto the street portico, which is only compatible with this higher level. I also saw that the marble revetment of the shops of the Palladius Street portico was clearly laid over the Palladius mosaic, apparently as part of the same phase of new marble paving of the portico floor: L. Lavan site observations 1998 (before major restoration works). Thus, phase 3 should be given the same date as the Sigma Plaza, which cuts through the shops of this portico, so AD 506/507, according to an inscription: appendix X2. Of late phase 4, the present basalt road pavement, laid in a herringbone-pattern, is dated by coins of Justinian (527–65) and Justin II (565–74) that were found in the cracks and in the mortar bedding, which I take as indicating the period 527 to 590 (565+25 years), as we are not told exactly which of these coins is in the mortar rather than the cracks. Ceramics found by sondages beneath the paving also demonstrated that it could not be earlier than the 6th c. AD: Foerster and Tsafrir (1989–90) 120–21. Note that the paving appears to extend (though we are missing a large intermediate section) to a street by the amphitheatre, which has the same herringbone style. At this point, it is immediately adjacent to a section of road with a different paving style that bears an inscription dating to AD 522 (appendix C1 and B7). This provides some grounds for proposing that the road paving in the Palladius Street is indeed from the 6th c. and not earlier in date, as confusion over the pottery might suggest. It is likely to date from 520s or 530s, as the inscription suggests, but we cannot confirm this as the context of the coins is not reported. There was perhaps an earlier 4th c. road surface that was removed / recycled as part of the laying of this street, but this is not clearly described in available reports. Of late phase 5, it is important to note that the sidewalks on both sides of the road appear to be later than the road paving itself. Good quality road paving clearly extends under the sidewalks, for a good distance, in places where the sidewalks have been damaged. This would not have been necessary if the sidewalks were part of the original design of the 6th c. road surface: L. Lavan site observations from tourist photos, as for example http://www.bible walks.com/Photos3fA5/BethShean37.jpg (last accessed June 2015).

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Of late phase 6, the sidewalks also seem to have been extended (on the south side) and raised up (on the north side) at some later point, so that the portico and the sidewalk now had the same height (that of the phase 3 marble portico floor). The raising was done using white limestone, which clashed visually with the dark-stone used to build the first phase of the sidewalks. The north sidewalk includes a reused limestone column capital in its upper most course: L. Lavan site observations 1998. This is described in appendix C7. No TPQ is available for either phase of the sidewalks, but the fact that they are later than the street paving means that they are of mid 6th c. or a later date. A TAQ can be derived from the site-wide earthquake destruction of 749 [Gudioboni Catalogo no. 220]. Dating summary (late phase 1, establishment of road and renovation / establishment of shops): range 300–400, midpoint 350, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), publication 2/3. Dating summary (late phase 2, street portico mosaic): range 475–507, midpoint 491, class Cs7 (TPQ, inscription in situ), Cs6 (TAQ inscription in situ), publication 3/3. Dating summary (late phase 3, marble floor in portico, and shop façade revetment): range 506–507, midpoint 506.5, class Cs6 (absolute, inscription in situ), Cs3 (associative, phase of development), publication 3/3. Dating summary (late phase 4, later road paving): range 527–90, midpoint 308.5, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs8 (contextual coins), publication 2/3. Dating summary (late phase 5–6, the sidewalk and its raising): range 527–749, midpoint 638, class Cs9 (contextual ceramics), Cs8 (contextual coins), Cs2 (catch-all earthquake), publication 2/3. 15ORI Scythopolis (the ‘Valley Street’): This has been excavated for a short stretch at its junction with the main street through the civic centre. It is dated by sondages to the 2nd c. AD, based on the last pottery in the fill under the portico. It seems to have been renewed in a large-scale programme of works, elements of which seem to belong together. In the late antique changes, the area available for occupation in the shops was enlarged by lowering the pedestrian pavement and shop floors and by creating openings from the back of the shops into rock-cut spaces. The portico was also given a geometric mosaic floor, which is dated to the end of the 4th c. or during the 5th c.: Y. Tsafrir and G. Foerster, “The Beth Shean excavation project 1988/1989”, Excavations and Surveys in Israel 9 (1989–90) (120–28) 124; G. Foerster and Y. Tsafrir (1992) “The Bet Shean Project (1989–1991): City Centre (North)—the Hebrew University Expedition”, Excavations and Surveys in Israel 98 (1992) (3–32) 22. On site, the colonnades seem to have been rebuilt, as they contain a variety of square pedestal and ?Attic column bases [they may be Ionic, my photo was not clear enough]. Sidewalks built beyond the porticoes appear to be present

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on both sides of the road, definitely on the south-east side where it was made from reused limestone blocks, and perhaps on the north-west side, where a street side of the correct dimensions exists, but it is too ruinous to rule out just steps for portico access here, and no obvious reused material was visible in my photograph: L. Lavan site observations April 1998. Of dimensions, measurements can be roughly measured off the small-scale map of Y. Tsafrir and G. Foerster, “Urbanism at Scythopolis-Bet Shean in the fourth to seventh centuries”, DOP 51 (1997) (85–146) fig. D. These seem to give dimensions of the western portico of 6 m (including stylobate), sidewalk 2 m, roadway 7 m, eastern sidewalk 2 m, eastern portico 6 m, giving a total street width (from portico back wall to back wall) of 23 m. Foerster and Tsafrir (1992) 20 also provides a list of measurement that is very similar: road width including sidewalks but not porticoes 11.5 m, sidewalks 17–20 m each [implying a roadway width without sidewalks of at least ca. 7.5 m], total street width (without shops) 23 m, plus two measurements for the width of the porticoes that must have been mixed up, as the porticoes work out as being 6 m each, based on the other figures provided. Although the shops did not date from Late Antiquity, their internal measurements are given as ca. 5 m long and 3.5 m deep, which must mean 3.5 m wide and 5 m deep judging from the plan on Foerster and Tsafrir (1992) 20 fig. 2, which shows 3 cellular one-room shops at this size and a fourth with a greater width, that is also connected to an adjacent unit by an internal door. Of architectural features, the north colonnade has Attic bases, but seems to include at least one pedestal, suggesting that it was re-erected using some reused material. The south colonnade was more obviously mixed, including two bases and three pedestals, in two groups, although the former might belong together as part of a building façade. On the road in front of the portico, one fallen round white limestone column (next to a base) lies in the unexcavated rubble, whereas a Corinthian capital (on my photo) lies closely. The road paving is of rectangular basalt blocks laid in a herringbone pattern, similar to Early Imperial and late antique road surfaces elsewhere in Scythopolis. The portico mosaic has been restored recently, revealing a black and white geometric mosaic of 2 large but simple carpets of squares interwoven with diagonal squares, set within a black line then a white border: see http://www.iaa-conservation.org.il/Projects_Item_eng.asp?subject_id=10&site_ id=58&id=110, a short report which asserts a date in the 6th c. AD for this mosaic. Of dating, the presence of reused material in the colonnades and the sidewalks provides the only secure basis for dating, of sometime after 250 but before the destruction of the site in 749 by a devastating earthquake [Gudioboni Catalogo no. 220]. However, the geometric mosaic has been

suggested as being of the end of the 4th to 5th c., probably because it is almost identical to that in the Roman ‘reflecting portico’, of governor Artemidorus dated to AD 395–404, most probably 400–404: Tsafrir and Foerster (1989–90) 124; Tsafrir and Foerster, (1997) 112–13. For the governor Artemidorus, see appendix H7. Clearly, the recent conservation report has undermined this parallel by suggesting a 6th c. date, though without providing details. In the absence of new arguments, I will retain the parallels to the Artemidorus mosaic as the best dating evidence for work on this street, with the close proximity of the two mosaics suggesting a single or close period of works. For a further excavated area (11 m by 15 m) of the same street, some 155 m from the central monument, see G. Foerster and Y. Tsafrir, “City center (north): excavations of the Hebrew University expedition”, Excavations and Surveys in Israel 11 (1992) (The Beth She’an Excavation Project 1989–91) (3–32) 24–25. Dating summary: range 395–404, midpoint 399.5, class 10 (artistic style), publication 3/3. 15ORI Tiberias (Cardo): The recent excavations at Tiberias, wh