Reclaiming the Past: Argos and Its Archaeological Heritage in the Modern Era 9781501761034

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Reclaiming the Past: Argos and Its Archaeological Heritage in the Modern Era
 9781501761034

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RECLAIMING THE PAST

RECLAIMING THE PAST

AR GOS A ND I TS A R C H A EO LO G I C A L H ER I TA GE I N TH E M O D E R N E R A

Jonathan M. Hall

CORNELL UNIVERSITY PRESS Ithaca and London

 Publication of this book has been aided by a grant from the von Bothmer Fund of the Archaeological Institute of Amer­i­ca.

Copyright © 2021 by Cornell University All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in a review, this book, or parts thereof, must not be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher. For information, address Cornell University Press, Sage House, 512 East State Street, Ithaca, New York 14850. Visit our website at cornellpress​.­cornell​.­edu. First published 2021 by Cornell University Press ISBN 978-1-5017-6053-2 (hardcover) ISBN 978-1-5017-6103-4 (pdf ) ISBN 978-1-5017-6102-7 (epub) Library of Congress Control Number: 2021944854 All photo­g raphs are by the author. Cover image: Argos and Larissa by John Fulleylove, 1845–1908. Courtesy of the Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection.

Co nte nts

List of Illustrations  vii Preface  ix Note on Transliteration and Translation  xiii

Introduction: Who Owns the Past?



1

Part One: From Ancient History to the Modern Era

1. A Greek Town for 6,000 Years

21

2. The Rediscovery of Argos

40

3. Devastation and Reconstruction

63

Part Two: Reclaiming the Past

4. Safeguarding Heritage

101

5. A New Age of Archaeological Heritage

133

Conclusion: Preservation or Pro­g ress?

167

Notes  181 References  215 Index  239

I l lu s tr at i o n s

Maps Argos Inset: Central Argos

22 23

Figures 1. The Kapodistrian barracks 4 2. Inner enceinte of Larisa fortress 24 3. Hadrianic nymphaeum on the eastern slope of the Larisa hill 25 4. The Hellenistic theater and Baths A 25 5. The Larisa hill 32 6. The church of the Dormition of the Virgin 33 7. The church of St. Constantine 44 8. Hellenistic cistern on southeast slope of Profitis Ilias 49 9. The dimarchio 78 10. The Kapodistrian Mutual School 78 11. The h ­ ouse of Dimitrios Kallergis 79 12. The h ­ ouse of Thomas Gordon 80 13. The h ­ ouse of Dimitrios Tsokris 81 14. Drawing of the Telesilla Relief 88 15. West side of St. Peter’s Square 109 16. The railway station 112 17. The market hall 112 18. Roman relief built into the church of the Dormition of the Virgin 115 19. Reused columns and capitals in the church of St. John the Baptist 116 20. Spolia incorporated into the church of the Dormition of the Virgin 117 21. The premises of the Argive Danaos Society 131 vii

vi i i I l lustr at ions

­Tables 1. Sites by category and period in Pausanias 2. Inscriptions in private possession published by Vollgraff

58 147

P r e fac e

In many re­spects, this book represents something of a nostos. I first visited Argos thirty years ago in connection with my doctoral research on ethnic identity in the Early Iron Age and Archaic Argolid. During subsequent visits, I spent several days traipsing the streets of the town, armed with a detailed map of individual properties that the staff in the dimarchio (town hall) had generously allowed me to copy. My intention was to create distribution maps of the burials that w ­ ere regularly coming to light in the course of rescue excavations carried out by the Greek Archaeological Ser­vice but which w ­ ere generally recorded only with reference to the street address at which they ­were discovered (all this in blissful ignorance of the fact that the École Française d’Athènes was about to publish its own distribution maps that ­were far more accurate and professional than anything I could have produced). In the course of my peregrinations, however, I became acutely aware of how the state’s concern with digging and conserving the past was often in uneasy tension with the desires of con­temporary residents to redevelop their properties and regenerate their town. That appreciation for the problematic nature of archaeological heritage is one that has remained with me over the years, but it has more recently been reinforced by a growing interest in the modern history of Greece—an interest that is the direct result of my involvement, over the past twenty years, in the University of Chicago’s Study Abroad Program in Greece. ­Those twin strands come together in the pre­sent book. On the one hand, this work is (as far as I know) the only anglophone account of the postantique history of Argos, a relatively modest market town in the northeastern Peloponnese with a demeanor that belies its importance in antiquity. On the other, it pays par­tic­u­lar attention to how the physical traces of antiquity w ­ ere experienced, by locals and outsiders alike, from the latter part of the eigh­teenth ­century through to the ­middle of the twentieth ­century (though I do briefly discuss some subsequent events). The upper chronological terminus is relatively easy to explain: ­there is precious ­little source material to work with that predates the last de­cades of the eigh­teenth ­century. The lower terminus, instead, ix

x P re face

requires a ­little more justification. First, I am by training an ancient historian and, while it has been liberating to mine relatively unknown archival sources (a luxury seldom available to t­ hose who study antiquity), I claim no competence in the techniques of con­temporary historians and sociologists—­interviews, questionnaires, oral histories, and the like. Second, as ­will quickly become apparent, archaeological heritage can be—­and, at Argos, certainly is—­a contentious issue. As a xenos (outsider) myself, I am anxious to avoid taking sides in con­temporary or near-­contemporary disputes and putting my Argive friends and in­for­mants in a difficult position. In the following chapters, I am not claiming that the issues and concerns addressed in this book are unique to Argos. At the same time, Argos belongs to a relatively small subset of urban environments that have been continuously settled since at least the Bronze Age and in which antiquities have always remained vis­i­ble in the landscape. The best-­known parallel would be Athens. By contrast, towns such as Sparta or Eretria ­were new (re)foundations of the period immediately following the Greek Revolutionary War, while a settlement such as Thebes, which was more or less continuously occupied, boasted ­little in the way of vis­i­ble monuments. As the British naval officer Edward Giffard commented in 1837, “Corinth has its heavy Doric t­emple; Argos its theatre; Sparta the presumed tomb of Leonidas; Messene its splendid walls and towers; Delphi its excavated tombs and the foundations of its t­ emples; but Thebes has nothing” (Giffard 1837, 373–74). Since this is a novel field of study for me, I am especially indebted to a number of friends and colleagues for their advice, assistance, support, and encouragement. In par­tic­u­lar, I should like to express my gratitude to Ioanna Antoniadou, Pierre Aupert, Anna Banaka, Christopher Brown, Michael Dietler, Helma Dik, Nikolaos Dimakis, Sylvian Fachard, Elizabeth Key Fowden, Brian Joseph, Gregory Jusdanis, Anthony Kaldellis, Dimitris Nakassis, Anna Philippa-­ Touchais, Gary Reger, Andrew Stewart, and Yiannis Xydopoulos. I would also like to thank the two anonymous readers for Cornell University Press for their extremely useful guidance and suggestions. N ­ eedless to say, none is responsible for any errors or interpretive choices that I have made. I pay a particularly warm tribute to two colleagues who have provided invaluable help: Tasos Tsagos, who maintains the incomparable online resource Argoliki Archiaki Vivliothiki Istorias kai Politismou (Archival Library of History and Culture for the Argolid: https://­argolikivivliothiki​.­g r​/­), and Georgios Kondis, whose knowledge of nineteenth-­and twentieth-­century Argos is unparalleled and from whose warm, generous, and enlightening com­pany I have profited im­mensely. My thanks also to Bill Nelson for his prompt and professional preparation of the two maps.

P r e face

xi

A number of institutions have greatly facilitated my research, including my own university, which generously granted me research leave in 2017–2018. I thank Anne Rohfritsch, archivist at the École Française d’Athènes; the American School of Classical Studies at Athens and its archivist, Natalia Vogeikoff-­ Brogan; the Gennadius Library in Athens, and its director, Maria Georgopoulou; the Center for Hellenic Studies Greece, in Nafplio, and especially Christos Giannopoulos and Matina Goga; and the Argive Danaos Society—­not least Adriani Laf kioti, who allowed me to use the society’s library. I am also grateful to Thomai Rhodopoulou and Tassos Anastassiadis for arranging a visit to Thomas Gordon’s ­house in Argos. Some of the material that follows has been test-­driven before audiences at the Department of Classics at Trinity College, Hartford, Connecticut; the Gradu­ate Group in Ancient History and Mediterranean Archaeology at the University of California Berkeley; the Department of Classics at The Ohio State University; the British School at Athens; and the Department of Classics at Northwestern University. I express my gratitude to all ­those who responded and offered helpful suggestions on ­those occasions. With regard to the production team, my thanks go to Kristen Bettcher, at Westchester Publishing Ser­vices and, for Cornell University Press, Susan Specter and Brock Schnoke. I am especially grateful to Bethany Wasik for her fervent belief in the proj­ect and her unstinting and enthusiastic help and support. Fi­nally, as always, my foremost debt is to my f­ amily for their continued love and support.

N ote o n Tr a n s l i te r at i o n a n d Tr a n s l at i o n

In transliterating ancient Greek names, I have generally preserved Greek orthography, save for cases where their Latinized equivalents have significantly dif­fer­ent pronunciations (I have used as my guide the index to Peter Levi’s Penguin translation of Pausanias). So, for example, Herodotos but Thucydides (rather than Thoukydides). For modern Greek names, I follow the standard orthographic conventions that are based largely on how the words are pronounced phonetically in the language t­ oday. ­There are, of course, some well-­established exceptions (Kapodistrias for Kapodhistrias; Georgios for Yeoryios). U ­ nless other­wise indicated, all translations are my own.

xiii

RECLAIMING THE PAST

Introduction Who Owns the Past?

Following a wave of protests in 2020, dozens of Confederate monuments, statues, and memorials across the southern United States ­were damaged or removed, including a statue of Jefferson Davis in Richmond, ­Virginia and one of Robert E. Lee in Montgomery, Alabama. Yet, the 2020 assault on Confederate monuments was hardly unprecedented—­many had already been removed following the 2015 Charleston mass shooting and 2017 demonstrations in Charlottesville. The damage, defacement, and removals in turn provoked fierce reactions, including some from President Trump, who complained that “they have no idea what they are ripping down” and “you ­don’t want to take away our heritage or our history.”1 Regrettably, the president did not specify exactly whose heritage or history he had in mind but, to judge from the differential employment of pronouns, an inclusive definition was not intended. It was not only monuments commemorating the Confederacy that ­were targeted. Across the United States, statues of Christopher Columbus ­were vandalized or removed, including in Chicago’s Grant Park, and (Woodrow) Wilson College at Prince­ton University was renamed ­after Mellody Hobson, a prominent black alumna, on account of the twenty-­eighth president’s racist and segregationist policies. Abroad, the United Kingdom addressed similar concerns, as the governors of Oriel College, Oxford, voted to remove a statue of

1

2 I NTRODUCTION

Cecil Rhodes, on the grounds that he represented imperialist values that ­were no longer acceptable, while demonstrators in Bristol toppled a statue of the merchant, politician, and slave-­trader Edward Colston. The events described above illustrate more than that the meaning of monuments changes over time. W ­ ere that the case, their conservation could perhaps be justified in part with the rather flimsy defense that it is unethical to practice selective memorialization and occlude the historical rec­ord or, more importantly, as a continuous rejection of outmoded attitudes and ideologies, as has sometimes been argued for the preservation of Fascist architecture in Rome. Rather, the point is that, throughout their life histories, monuments mean dif­fer­ent t­ hings to dif­fer­ent ­people. ­There are numerous examples of monuments to which multiple and diverse “stakeholders” lay claim, including the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem, contested by Muslims and Jews, or Ayodhya in the Indian state of Uttar Pradesh where, in 1992, Hindu activists demolished the Babri Mosque, triggering riots in which more than 2,000 lost their lives.2 Of course, contestation can also take less violent forms. In her polyphonic analy­sis of the Athenian Acropolis, Eleana Yalouri explores how the “Sacred Rock” is si­mul­ta­neously a global and a national symbol. (Actually, when set alongside other regional monuments like Thessaloniki’s White Tower, the Acropolis also becomes a local Athenian landmark.) Much of the time, ­these competing claims are in tension with one another, and the profession that certain monuments are part of “world heritage”—an argument that the British Museum has often employed to justify its custody of the Parthenon Marbles—­can easily be exposed as yet another iteration of Western colonialism. On the other hand, as Yalouri explains, national recognition of the Acropolis’s global significance proves to be advantageous in establishing a debt that Greece is owed by the West.3 It has become common in recent scholarship to regard monuments and landscapes as lieux de mémoire, a term employed by the historian Pierre Nora to denote sites, ­whether material or nonmaterial, that function as the “ultimate embodiments of a memorial consciousness.”4 In fact, the idea had already been anticipated by the sociologist Maurice Halbwachs, who argued that the truth claim of a group memory “needs to be presented in the concrete form of an event, of a personality, or of a locality.”5 In an analy­sis of how dif­ fer­ent ages constructed the topography of the Holy Land, Halbwachs demonstrates persuasively that landscapes and monuments can change their signification over time, but his Durkheimian analytical framework is less attentive to synchronic contestations over meaning. That, instead, the physical vestiges of the past do evince multivocal interpretations on the part of diverse



WH O OW NS TH E PAST ?

3

stakeholders can be illustrated by the history and cultural heritage of modern Argos in Greece, as is evident in the following case study.

The ­Battle for the Barracks On March 9, 2017, the Byzantine Museum of the Argolid fi­nally opened its doors to the public ­after a twelve-­year remodeling proj­ect. Its realization drew to a close a contentious and, at times, ­bitter strug­gle that had divided opinion in the town of Argos for forty years. The building in which the museum is ­housed had originally been built in 1828–1829, to the design of the Ithakan architect Lambros Zavos and on the o ­ rders of Greece’s first governor, Ioannis Kapodistrias, in order to ­house two squadrons of the Greek cavalry (figure 1). The barracks flank the southern side of the market square at Argos—­a location that had previously been occupied by a hospital during the Second Venetian Occupation (1686–1715) and subsequently by the Turkish Bezesteni (covered market). Over the course of almost 150 years, the barracks had accommodated not only the cavalry but also the infantry, the Sixth Artillery Regiment, and a mounted detachment of the town’s gendarmerie. For a brief period in 1893–1894 the building served as the town’s high school, ­after the roof of the school building collapsed; during the Balkan Wars of 1912–1913 it ­housed Turkish prisoners of war and, in 1922, it provided shelter to refugees from Asia Minor. Originally a quadrilateral building ranged around a large open courtyard, the north wing was demolished in 1938. In 1968, the Greek Ministry of Defense agreed the sale of the building to the municipality of Argos for the token price of 8,214,000 drachmas (a ­little over 24,000 euros), ­after which it quickly fell into disrepair. On March 5, 1977, the municipal council—­with the enthusiastic backing of the then mayor, Dimitrios Bonis—­voted to demolish the structure with a view to developing the site. Among the suggestions for its use w ­ ere a park, government offices, a multistory car park, and a bus station. Within a few months, a “preservationist” movement had arisen, spearheaded by the archaeologists of the Ministry of Culture’s Fourth Ephorate of Prehistoric and Classical Antiquities, who proposed in September 1977 that the barracks should instead be converted into a cultural center. The preservationist cause was strengthened further at the end of the year with the foundation of the Cultural Association of Argos (Politistikos Omilos Argous, POA), though the association never counted more than 180 subscribing members. On the side of the “de­mo­li­tionists” w ­ ere developers and contractors, the majority of the municipal council, the parliamentary

4 I NTRODUCTION

Figure 1.  The Kapodistrian barracks.

deputies for the region (most—­though by no means all—­from the conservative New Democracy party), and some local journalists, including Georgios Thomopoulos, former mayor and editor of the Argiakon Vima newspaper. Locals, however, ­were not the only stakeholders. Kapodistrias had been controversial in his own lifetime and his legacy would turn out to be no less contentious, but his short term in office coincided with the foundation of a ­free Greek nation. As a consequence, buildings associated with his regime ­were endowed with a national significance in addition to any local meanings. Indeed, the issue of the barracks soon drew in the Athenian press and prominent public intellectuals, such as the architectural historian Charalambos Bouras and the archaeologist Manolis Andronikos, as well as se­nior government figures—­most of whom sided with the preservationists. For example, the Greek minister of defense, Evangelos Averoff, announced that he was willing to forgive the municipality the final payment instalment of 400,000 drachmas if it would restore the building and use it as a museum, a cultural center, or something similar. On January 24, 1978, ­after consultation with the Central Archaeological Council, the minister of culture, Georgios Plytas, declared the building a historical monument and, in April, the Ministry of Culture approved a plan to convert it into a cultural center, for which twenty million



WHO OW NS T HE PAST?

5

drachmas w ­ ere set aside. An architectural commission, u ­ nder the presidency of Solon Kydoniatis, was appointed to draw up plans for the cultural center, which w ­ ere submitted to the Ministry of Culture in March 1979. Almost immediately a­ fter the Ministry of Culture’s resolution to list the barracks as a historical monument, the municipal council filed a request with the Council of State in Athens to annul the decision. The Council of State would eventually reject that request in December 1978, but while the ­matter was awaiting a judicial decision, ­bitter divisions persisted. In October, Bonis lost the municipal elections and was replaced as mayor by Georgios Pirounis, who proved to be no less adamant in his determination to demolish the barracks. Pirounis defended the de­mo­li­tionists, arguing that they ­were not—as the Athenian press had portrayed them—­uneducated rustics who desired to replace historical monuments with tenement blocks and cement but included intellectuals, ­lawyers, civil engineers, public officials, and even historians. He also claimed—­though without presenting any evidence—­that a team of experts had consulted historical sources and determined that t­ here was no connection between the barracks and Kapodistrias. A further complication arose from the support that foreign archaeologists of the École Française d’Athènes (French School of Archaeology), who had been working periodically at Argos for almost a ­century, had lent to the side of the preservationists. One of them, Pierre Aupert, was denounced to the French ambassador for interfering in internal Greek affairs. In a similar vein, Argiakon Vima on December 13, 1981, accused the École Française of intervening in ­matters that ­were of concern only to citizens of Argos. ­Matters ­were not helped by inertia at the Ministry of Culture, where Georgios Plytas had been replaced by Dimitrios Nianias. August  1980 saw the swearing in of yet another minister of culture, Andreas Andrianopoulos, who de­cided that he needed to refer the m ­ atter of the barracks back to the Central Archaeological Council. The council unanimously reaffirmed its e­ arlier verdict in f­ avor of preservation and, on October 16, the president of Greece, Konstantinos Karamanlis, even signed off on a decree that again designated the barracks as a listed building. On the other side, however, the de­mo­li­tionists secured the tacit support of the New Democracy prime minister, Georgios Rallis, and the issue again ground to a standstill. Nor did a swift resolution to the situation occur a­ fter the national elections of October 1981, when Andreas Papandreou’s socialist PASOK party was swept to power and the actor-­turned-­ politician Melina Mercouri was appointed minister of culture. In March 1984, Mercouri fi­nally approved a plan to convert the barracks into a cultural center that would also ­house a Byzantine and folk museum but the Ministry of Planning, Settlement, and the Environment delayed the work further by deciding

6 I NTRODUCTION

to commission yet another study of the surrounding area. Meanwhile, in a last-­ditch attempt to downgrade the property and devalue its status as a national monument, Mayor Pirounis installed sheds in the courtyard of the barracks. It was only with the elections of October 1986 and the appointment of a new mayor, Dimitrios Papanikolaou, that the deadlock was fi­nally broken and the green light given for restoration, though formal approval was not given u ­ ntil 1992.6

Cultural Heritage(s) The “­battle for the barracks” illustrates some of the key issues that are explored in this book: the often irresolvable tension between conservation and development; the clash between perspectives focused on the past and t­ hose oriented ­toward the ­future; the potential symbolic—­and sometimes economic—­capital that accrues to the physical remnants of the past; and the involvement of outsiders and foreigners who undeniably demonstrate a commitment to the past, but often to a past that is quite dif­fer­ent from that envisioned by local residents. To be sure, most of the movable and immovable antiquities that are discussed in this book pre-­date the Kapodistrian cavalry barracks by at least seventeen centuries. Yet, since 1975, when “neoclassical” buildings of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries came ­under the official protection of the Greek state, all can be considered part of what we might call the “cultural heritage” of Argos.7 Articles 1 and 2 of the comprehensive legislation (Law 3028/2002) concerning the protection of antiquities, passed by the Greek parliament on June 28, 2002, define cultural heritage as “the evidence for the existence of individual and collective h ­ uman activity,” from antiquity to t­ oday, which is found “within the bound­aries of the Greek state, including territorial ­waters and other maritime zones in which Greece exercises the relevant jurisdiction u ­ nder international law.” The definition includes “intangible” as well as “tangible” goods but also applies to “cultural goods that originate from the Greek state, whenever they ­were removed,” and t­hose that are “connected historically with Greece, no ­matter where they are found.”8 This nationally enacted legislation clearly articulates the princi­ple that cultural heritage “encapsulates, materializes and preserves the experience and historical memory of the national community,”9 and what gives it this efficacy is its ability to give “tangible and physical repre­sen­ta­tion to intangible concepts and notions of cultural, social or historical identity, such as a sense of place, community or belonging.”10 But, as the example of the Kapodistrian barracks shows, cultural heritage can also



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exist at a more local, or “epichoric,” level, where antiquities are regarded as constituting an (alienable) ancestral inheritance rather than as national symbols.11 ­There is a tension between multiple local histories (istories) and a singular national History (i istoria).12 Paul Betts and Corey Ross have argued that cultural heritage is also a transnational phenomenon, in that the specific mea­sures that individual nations have taken are strikingly similar to one another and issues of heritage protection have quickly assumed an impor­tant position within international law.13 The global outrage provoked by the destruction of the monumental Buddhas of Bamiyan by the Taliban in 2001, the looting of Baghdad’s Iraq Museum in 2003, and ISIS’s de­mo­li­tion of the T ­ emple of Baalshamin at Palmyra, Syria, in 2015 presumes an internationally recognized, global cultural heritage. At the same time, as noted above, ­there are occasions when it is hard to avoid the suspicion that this world heritage is ­little more than a colonialist Western heritage in globalized garb. In short, while it is common to refer to “cultural heritage” in the singular, the messier real­ity reveals more pluralized claims among vari­ ous stakeholders at dif­fer­ent scalar levels. The question that should always be asked is: Whose cultural heritage? Laurajane Smith observes that contestations over cultural heritage, such as that which concerned the fate of the Kapodistrian barracks, began to occur with greater frequency in the 1960s and 1970s. Explanations for this range from new concerns about the environment and postwar development to increased leisure time and the growth of cultural tourism.14 David Lowenthal, however, has argued that, while major programs to protect cultural heritage may be a feature of the twentieth ­century (one thinks of the foundation of the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organ­ization, UNESCO, in 1945), Eu­ro­pean nations ­were already identifying themselves with their material patrimony e­ arlier than this.15 In Greece, for example, the first legislation to protect ancestral antiquities was enacted shortly ­after the commencement of the Revolutionary War against the Ottoman Empire and even before the official recognition of the nation’s in­de­pen­dence.16 It may be that the quest for historical preservation was a cultural consequence of both the French Revolution, which posed new questions about the resources that could be mobilized for rewriting a national past, and the Industrial Revolution, during which the ravages of modernization provoked a romantic “nostalgia” for times past.17 Interestingly, “nostalgia” is often a word hurled at conservationists by their critics to denote a pathology that alienates them from the realities of the pre­sent.18 In real­ity, however, heritage is precisely “a resource for creating and sustaining a sense of cultural identity in the pre­sent” (my emphasis).19 As Smith puts it, “­there is no one defining action or moment of heritage but rather a range of activities that include remembering,

8 I NTRODUCTION

commemoration, communicating and passing on knowledge and memories, asserting and expressing identity and social and cultural values and meanings. As an experience, and as a social and cultural per­for­mance, it is something with which p­ eople actively, often self-­consciously, and critically engage.”20 Seen in this light, ruins, far from being the irrelevant detritus of an imperfectly remembered past, are “ ‘truth regimes’ that are constituted out of a combination of communal memories and spatio-­temporal repre­sen­ta­tions.”21

Insiders and Outsiders In the history of modern Argos from the late eigh­teenth to the early twentieth c­ entury, the evidence for how the antiquities of Argos w ­ ere experienced by locals and outsiders (xeni) alike is far more abundant for the latter than for the former. The first detailed postantique description of Argos is provided by the Turkish traveler Evliyâ Çelebi, who visited the town in 1668. However, the vast majority of visitors in the seventeenth, eigh­teenth, and early nineteenth centuries w ­ ere highly educated elites from Britain, France, Italy, and eventually the United States, who wished to see for themselves the locations with which they ­were familiar from their reading of ancient authors. From the 1830s, German visitors also began to arrive in increasing numbers. By contrast, accounts by (predominantly nonepichoric) Greeks are extremely few and far between: Dionysios Pyrrhos in 1829; Iakovos and Alexandros Rizos Rangavis in the 1850s; and Christos Koryllos and Spyridon Paganelis in 1889. The first properly local account of Argos and its antiquities was Ioannis Kofiniotis’s History of Argos, published in 1892—­a time when t­ here was a growing antiquarian interest among a small group of intellectuals in the town. For the period of the Revolutionary War, we are extremely fortunate to have a collection of correspondence belonging to, among ­others, Dimitrios Tsokris and Nikitas Stamatelopoulos, which was acquired by the Argive Danaos Society (Syllogos Argion o Danaos) in 1951. Local newspapers are also, of course, a valuable source of information for local attitudes, but only for the l­ater period, since Argos did not have its own newspaper ­until 1883. It is especially regrettable that the bulk of the municipality’s archives for the nineteenth c­ entury has been destroyed, lost, or burnt. Allegedly, Mayor Dimitrios Bonis gave ­orders in 1975 to dispose of the proceedings of meetings of the municipal council. In 2008, some more recent archives—­including t­hose for 1940—­were transferred, along with the Kolialexis library, to the basement of the Konstantopoulos h ­ ouse on Danaou Street. But when the h ­ ouse was reconfigured to accommodate a school of tourism, the archives and the library dis­



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9

appeared, despite official claims that the material had been divided between the old town hall of Myli and the public office of Lyrkia. In July 2014, a new scandal erupted: five volumes of the proceedings of the municipal council for the period 1856–1890 w ­ ere put up for auction at Spanos Rare Books in Athens. Mayor Dimitrios Kambosos was informed by the director of the state archives for the Argolid, the sale was blocked, and the proceedings ­were returned to the seller, who was subsequently charged with theft by the police court of Nafplio. Nevertheless, the seller refused to hand the material over to the state archives, claiming that s/he had discovered them discarded among rubbish in 1975—­a claim that was dismissed a­ fter witnesses came forward to testify that they had consulted them in the basement of the dimarchio (town hall) between 1975 and 1985. At the time of writing, the case is still being litigated.22 The evidence is, then, decidedly one-­sided—­especially for the ­earlier period—­but local experiences are not entirely unrecoverable. Occasionally, western Eu­ro­pean visitors report on what they have been told by their Greek—­ and, up to 1821, Turkish—­guides, especially if it was something to which they objected. It is also, however, pos­si­ble on occasion to read Westerners’ accounts “against the grain” or “contrapuntally,” reconstructing a local discourse with which they are engaging.23 ­After all, as Benjamin Anderson and Felipe Rojas point out, “­every discourse about antiquity emerges and develops in dialogue and conflict with alternative discourses.”24 When we do have access to local sentiment, it tends to corroborate an impression that is discernable in the accounts of Westerners—­namely, that the two parties, locals and outsiders, did not engage with one another on an equitable basis. Cast in the role of traditional and primeval “natives” and distanced from the “modern” and “scientific” perspective of Westerners, locals ­were subjected to the pro­cess of “allochrony”—­a term originally borrowed from ecol­ogy but employed by the German anthropologist Johannes Fabian to indicate the “denial of coevalness” or “a per­sis­tent and systematic tendency to place the referent(s) of anthropology in a Time other than the pre­sent of the producer of anthropological discourse.”25 For Fabian, the operation of allochrony resides in the colonialist origins of anthropology, and several other scholars have treated the engagement between Greek locals and Western visitors as colonialist in nature, if not in fact. Most famously, perhaps, Michael Herzfeld has characterized postliberation Greece as a “crypto-­colony,” which he defines as “the curious alchemy whereby certain countries, buffer zones, between the colonized lands and t­ hose as yet untamed, ­were compelled to acquire their po­liti­cal in­de­pen­dence at the expense of massive economic dependence, this relationship being articulated in the iconic guise of aggressively national culture fashioned to suit foreign models.”26

10 I NTRODUCT ION

Herzfeld’s characterization of Greece as a crypto-­colony is certainly appropriate for the period from the late 1820s onward, when the embryonic nation did indeed become dependent upon foreign aid. But if by “colonialist mindset” we mean an asymmetric encounter between two actors, where one considers itself more “modern” and regards the other allochronically and with condescension or disapproval, then this is clearly detectable e­ arlier than the Revolutionary War, even in the absence of direct economic dependence. It is perhaps—at least in part—­for this reason that Yannis Hamilakis prefers to talk about an “ideological colonization”: “Greece has not been formally colonized as such, but the pro­cess of its production as a modern nation-­state amounts to that of colonization, not simply by the ideas of western modernity but also by the pro­cesses, apparatuses, and groups instrumental in shaping and propagating this new world order.”27 Other commentators use phrases such as “meta­phoric colonialism,” “surrogate colonialism,” or “colonialism of the mind.”28 The impor­tant point to note is that, in the minds of the Western “pseudo-­colonists,” Greece’s con­temporary civilization was “defined de facto by decline in relation to itself and irrelevance in relation to other modern nations.”29 Herzfeld has argued for two principal self-­images of Greek culture —­a “cultural diglossia” —in the modern era. The first, Ellinismos, is focused on classical antiquity and is precisely the “aggressively national culture” mentioned above, which “tailors a grandiose and dehistoricized Classical past to external consumption.”30 Yet, in its exaltation of the Ellines (“Hellenes” or ancient Greeks) as an Ur-­Europa, “the mythic ancestor of all Eu­ro­pean culture,” Ellinismos si­mul­ta­neously devalued the con­temporary Greeks as “polluted by the taint of Turkish culture” and cast them in the role of “humiliated oriental vassal.”31 Romiossini, on the other hand, denotes a less official, more intimate ideology that is rooted in the Christian and Roman identity of Greece’s inhabitants, u ­ nder their Byzantine, Frankish, Venetian, and Ottoman Turkish rulers. In the words of Patrick Leigh Fermor, “ ‘Hellene’ is the glory of ancient Greece, ‘Romaic’ the splendours and the sorrows of Byzantium.”32 While Romiossini was effectively an indigenous self-­concept, Ellinismos was originally a construct of educated western Eu­ro­pean elites, whose mastery of classical Greek and Latin guaranteed their credentials as members of a transnational elite. The concept was then introduced into Greek self-­consciousness by Greek intellectuals of the diaspora such as Adamantios Koraïs, who was as familiar with Eu­ro­pean Enlightenment thought as he was with the lit­er­a­ture of ancient authors. Before the early de­cades of the nineteenth c­ entury, however, the Greek-­speaking inhabitants of Ottoman Greece would regularly define themselves not as Ellines but as Christians (Christiani) or Romans (Romei).33



WHO OW NS T HE PAST?

11

They considered the Hellenes not as their ancestors but as an e­ arlier, almost mythical population of g­ iants who had formerly inhabited their land and w ­ ere 34 capable of ­g reat feats of strength. Obviously, in this period the distinction between the Hellenic and the Romeic roughly maps onto the difference in outlook between outsiders and locals, respectively. “Outsiders” or xeni is, however, a broad term and it can embrace not only foreign visitors but also nonepichoric Greeks. Ellinismos was swiftly a­ dopted, with ­g reat success, as the chartering ideology of the fledgling Greek nation-­ state, but that is not to say that its tenets w ­ ere necessarily absorbed fully in the provinces. Another dichotomy that Herzfeld has sketched out opposes locals not to foreigners but to the official discourses of a depersonalized state. “Social time” is how he characterizes the sort of diurnal experience at the local level that attributes specificity to events, thereby giving them their real­ity. “Monumental time,” on the other hand, is the official but reductive and generic narrative that purports to be the time frame of the nation-­state.35 Herzfeld’s analy­sis is applied to the densely packed urban environment of the Venetian/Turkish old town of Rethymno on Crete and is less operable in the case of Argos, whose cultural heritage is far older but also far sparser. Nevertheless, ­there are moments when we glimpse a temporality operating in epichoric experiences of antiquities that is entirely dif­fer­ent from that i­magined by western Eu­ro­pean visitors or—­from the late nineteenth ­century—­the officials of the state archaeological ser­vice.36 Binaries such as locals/outsiders, Hellenic/Romeic, and monumental/social time are heuristically helpful, though, as Herzfeld admits, “like all classificatory devices, they can also become a substitute for thinking.”37 To a certain degree, t­ here is a mutually constitutive relationship between ­these seemingly polarized categories. In a study of Western travelers to Sparta, Paraskevas Matalas has argued that travelers w ­ ill often transfer “memories” to local residents that ­will ­later be relayed back to subsequent travelers,38 while Anastasia Stouraiti has outlined how knowledge-­making practices on Venetian-­occupied Crete w ­ ere the outcome of a broader interaction between both colonial officials and local populations.39 Furthermore, Vangelis Calotychos has argued that when the discourse of Hellenism, originally constructed by Western intellectuals and Greeks of the diaspora, was internalized by Greek populations, it produced a self-­image of Hellenism that was “both foreign and native, both Other and the Same”—­a pro­cess he terms “self-­colonization.”40 Along similar lines, Hamilakis charts the emergence, around the m ­ iddle de­cades of the nineteenth c­ entury, of what he calls “indigenous Hellenism”—­a synthesis of both the Hellenic and the Romeic that allowed latter-­day Greeks to regard themselves as the direct descendants of both Hellenes and Christian Romans.41

12 I NTRODUCT ION

Some Potential Approaches Argos has been more or less continuously occupied for 6,000 years, meaning that its history is both literally and meta­phor­ically layered. Maridina Kardarakou has proposed “reading” the town of Argos as a palimpsest—­a notion that has been increasingly applied in recent years to the evolutionary history of sites that ­were continuously occupied over a long period of time.42 In origin, the term “palimpsest” denoted a papyrus from which the original text had been largely, though not indelibly, erased to allow subsequent texts to be written on the same papyrus. In a certain sense, it is a ­little misleading to talk about a more or less continuously inhabited settlement as a palimpsest since subsequent development and construction are not normally as oblivious to e­ arlier traces of urban design as a ­later text is to ­earlier writing on a partially erased papyrus, although the papyrological practice of reconstructing ­earlier, semiconcealed texts on a papyrus is perhaps a useful meta­phor for urban archaeology. Nevertheless, the concept of the palimpsest was central to the French literary theorist Gérard Genette’s notion of “textual transcendence” or “transtextuality.” For Genette, the palimpsest serves as a meta­phor to indicate how subsequent texts (hypertexts) derive, via imitation, transformation, or extension, from ­earlier texts (hypotexts). In addition, he identified three further transtextual subcategories: (1) paratextuality, which defines the relationship between a text and the framing devices (e.g., titles, headings, prologues, footnotes, ­etc.) that guide and control the reader’s perception of the text; (2) metatextuality, which denotes the textual commentary—­often critical—of another text; and (3) architextuality, which involves the classification of a text as belonging to a par­tic­u­lar genre.43 In Kardarakou’s application of the palimpsest meta­phor to the long-­term history of Argos, the “author” that writes the successive hypertexts is collective memory. She argues that the per­sis­tence or resilience of a city resides not in the physical traces of ­human activity but in the recognition, on the part of subsequent generations, of a repetition and confirmation of a past that is deemed socially and culturally significant.44 This is why “erasures” of the palimpsest of Argos caused by the Ottoman occupation of the town in the fifteenth c­ entury CE ultimately served to strengthen collective memory, with the gaps that w ­ ere torn into the urban fabric functioning as reminders of previous hypotexts.45 At the same time, however, the imprint that the Ottomans made on the town, with the imposition of mosques, hammams, and the bazaar, itself formed an enduring hypotext that has influenced the labyrinthine streets, narrow alleys, closely packed h ­ ouses, and market square of t­ oday’s 46 town.



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13

While the idea of reading Argos as a palimpsest can generate some in­ter­ est­ing observations, t­ here are two re­spects in which it is not entirely satisfactory. First, while this approach corresponds to a relatively recent interest among archaeological theorists in applying the meta­phors of reading and textuality to the material cultural rec­ord, it is ultimately a return—in postmodernist guise—to the sort of “philological archaeology” that was practiced in the late nineteenth ­century.47 Philological archaeology is often understood as the type of archaeological practice that is driven and directed by literary sources—­a notable example would be Heinrich Schliemann’s excavations at Troy and Mycenae on the basis of Homer and Pausanias, respectively. Technically, however, the term was originally coined to describe the application to the field of material culture of analytical methods akin to ­those of textual criticism.48 The prob­lem with this sort of approach is its failure to recognize that texts and material culture constitute two quite dif­fer­ent discourses with their own distinctive objectives and methodologies.49 Second, while the “stratigraphic” analy­sis which is implied in distinguishing hypertexts from hypotext may be perfectly appropriate from an “etic” point of view (i.e., that of the detached and chronologically distanced external observer), it is less amenable to capturing the “emic” (insiders’) perspective of t­ hose individuals—be they local residents or foreign visitors—­who actually experienced the town of Argos in the late eigh­ teenth and nineteenth centuries. As Kardarakou herself explains: “Residences and public buildings of antiquity, medieval churches, mosques, and neoclassical buildings of the post-­K apodistrian period constitute the paratexts of Argos, which inhere in—­and collectively fashion—­its image up to t­ oday.”50 But the point is that it is only from a privileged modern position that we can carefully peel back the vari­ous layers, distinguishing the Ottoman from the Byzantine or ancient strata. For ­those who actually experienced this archaeological heritage, all ­these strata ­were compressed, existing in the same time-­space continuum. One model that captures this “otherness” of time and space and that has been increasingly employed in recent scholarship on the archaeology of Greece is Michel Foucault’s discussion of heterotopias.51 Paradoxically, despite its popularity in the theoretical archaeological lit­er­a­ture, Foucault himself never developed the concept of the heterotopia in any detail. Aside from a brief anticipatory reference in the preface to Les mots et les choses, the theme is addressed only in a short lecture to architects, delivered in 1967 but not authorized for publication u ­ ntil 1984.52 For Foucault, heterotopias are “real places . . . ​ which are something like counter-­sites, a kind of effectively enacted utopia, in which the real sites, all the other real sites that can be found within the culture, are si­mul­ta­neously represented, contested, and inverted. Places of this

14 I NTRODUCT ION

kind are outside of all places, even though it may be pos­si­ble to indicate their location in real­ity.”53 Defined in this way, Foucault proposes a typology of heterotopias (a “heterotopology”) that included spaces as diverse as nineteenth-­ century boarding schools, barracks, honeymoon h ­ otels, psychiatric hospitals, prisons, retirement homes, cemeteries, cinemas and theaters, gardens, museums and libraries, fairgrounds, vacation villages, Turkish baths and Swedish saunas, American motels, brothels, colonies, and ships. Indeed, the list is so exhaustive that one begins to won­der what does not count as a heterotopia. I would, however, suggest that t­ here are three features that are relevant for how archaeological heritage was—­and is—­perceived. First, the heterotopia is “cut off from the normative space that surrounds it,” although Foucault perhaps exaggerates in claiming that it is “not freely accessible like a public place” and that e­ ither “entry is compulsory, as in the case of entering a barracks or a prison, or ­else the individual has to submit to rites and purifications.”54 What counts more is the awareness of traversing a place that is both real and dif­fer­ent from mundane space. Second, the heterotopia “is capable of juxtaposing in a single real place several spaces, several sites that are in themselves incompatible.” Third, and related to the second point, Foucault argues that heterotopias “are most often linked to slices in time—­which is to say that they open onto what might be termed, for the sake of symmetry, heterochronies.” Such heterochronies denote temporal discontinuities that mark a break with traditional time but they also represent temporal accumulations so as to produce “a place of all times that is itself outside of time and inaccessible to its ravages.” In the context of archaeological heritage, it is easy to see how fenced archaeological sites and museums could be considered heterotopias. Both are demarcated spaces, set off from regular space, to which access is controlled, regardless of w ­ hether or not admission fees are charged, and both contain an accumulation of material from dif­fer­ent times and contexts, juxtaposed within the same site. But Artemis Leontis has gone further and proposed viewing Greece itself—or, rather, the “numerous sites of ruins from classical antiquity forming a cir­cuit known to the West as ‘Hellas’ ”—as a heterotopia.55 In a similar spirit, I would suggest that, for Western visitors of the late eigh­teenth and early nineteenth centuries, prior to the creation of a designated museum for antiquities or the enclosure of specifically demarcated archaeological areas like the ancient agora or the Hellenistic theater, the entire town of Argos constituted a heterotopia. The frisson that many visitors describe upon entering so ancient a town makes it clear that the urban space is differentiated from its rural surroundings and not just by virtue of being built up—­indeed, a common refrain in travelers’ accounts is just how un-­urban the town was. Inside,



WHO OW NS T HE PAST?

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as Kardarakou points out, they witnessed the juxtaposition of largely incompatible traces from the ancient, Byzantine, and Ottoman pasts, creating “a place of all times that is itself outside of time.” Equally, t­ hese Western visitors ­were predestined to view Argos as a heterotopia ­because their interest in the town was conditioned by the deeply heterotopic and heterochronic account of the ancient travel writer Pausanias. Although Leontis allows for the possibility that ancient sites serve as heterotopias not only for the West but also for “separate national traditions, including the Greek, that view themselves as exemplars of the West,” it is a ­little more difficult to imagine how the local residents of Argos would have experienced the town in which they lived and worked on a daily basis as a heterotopia.56 One approach that could potentially address this difficulty is Edward Soja’s concept of Thirdspace, which builds on Foucault’s work on heterotopias as well as the “spatial trialectics” developed by the French sociologist Henri Lefebvre.57 Thirdspace is a transcendent composite of Firstspace (“real” or “perceived” space) and Secondspace (“­imagined” or “conceived” space).58 On the other hand, the concept of Thirdspace is resolutely postmodern—­Soja himself employed it to analyze con­temporary Los Angeles and Amsterdam—­ and its applicability to historical contexts is, as yet, largely untested.59

Argos and Its Archaeological Heritage In short, concepts such as the urban palimpsest and heterotopias may offer some fruitful approaches to the archaeological heritage of Argos but the overriding motif of this book is the differential way in which the town’s physical vestiges and archaeological heritage ­were experienced by locals, nonepichoric Greeks, and foreigners. Part I outlines the history of Argos from antiquity to the Greek Revolutionary War of the 1820s and opens with chapter 1, which provides a brief account of the town’s development from the ­Middle Bronze Age down to the Ottoman conquest. One of the notable features of this history is the town’s resilience ­under its Byzantine and then Frankish, Venetian, and Ottoman overlords. It was ­under the latter two occupiers that the first documented travelers arrived in Argos, including Çelebi in 1668. A succession of visitors arrived soon afterward, such as the French diplomat André de Monceaux (1669), the En­glish merchant Bernard Randolph (1670s), the Venetian cartographer Vincenzo Maria Coronelli (1680s), and the Venetian officer Nicola Mirabal (1690s). Since the Description of Greece by the ancient travel writer Pausanias was invariably the text with which Western travelers ­were most familiar, chapter 2

16 I NTRODUCT ION

attempts to contextualize Pausanias’s description of Argos within his overall proj­ect, which was to embark on a type of pilgrimage to the sacred centers of Greece and to resurrect its once-­glorious past. But, in its juxtaposition of monuments and sights of dif­fer­ent historical periods or its occlusion of any distinction between the historical and legendary past, Pausanias’s account of Argos is thoroughly heterotopic and heterochronic and it was this perspective that was to condition—­and be reproduced by—­the experience of Western travelers to the town. Chapter 3 begins by elaborating the role that Argos played during the Revolutionary War of 1821–1830. The town was sacked three times by foreign ­enemy forces but it also played a central part in the episodes of civil unrest that divided the revolutionaries—­first, between the military and the civilian parties; then, between the Moreots of the Peloponnese and the Roumeliots of central Greece; and, fi­nally, between the supporters of Kapodistrias and the so-­called constitutionalists. Surprisingly, perhaps, Western travelers—­not all of them volunteers for, or supporters of, the Greek cause—­continued to visit Argos in the 1820s and early 1830s. They provide a vivid account of the devastation that the town experienced in this period as well as the reconstruction efforts that ­were spearheaded initially by Kapodistrias. In their descriptions of antiquities, the travelers betray their reliance on e­ arlier accounts by visitors to the town but, by reading “contrapuntally,” it is also pos­si­ble to detect the trace of epichoric information, presumably relayed by local guides. What emerges from this epichoric viewpoint is, first, how “ancestral monuments” delineated a symbolic pre­sent, functioning as a filial inheritance that could confer real material benefits, and, second, how a local, “Romeic” consciousness interacted with the “Hellenic” aspirations of outsiders. The Hellenic-­Romeic binary should not, however, be stressed unduly. A relief stele, discovered while digging the foundations of a ­house belonging to the local revolutionary leader Dimitrios Tsokris, was identified by a French art historian as depicting the fifth-­century BCE poetess Telesilla who, according to tradition, had defended Argos against a Spartan invasion. I argue that the identification need not be the scholarly “Hellenic” imposition of an outside “expert” and that ­there are some reasons for assuming that the Telesilla legend was circulating locally at the outbreak of the Revolutionary War. This, then, would represent an instance of the interpenetration of local and foreign discourses. Fi­nally, chapter  3 turns to the successive—­and ultimately unrealized—­urban plans that w ­ ere drawn up for Argos on the o ­ rders of Kapodistrias and suggests that, while Kapodistrias was not unconcerned with issues of cultural heritage, they did not rank among his highest priorities. Not unreasonably, perhaps, postrevolutionary Argos privileged reconstruction over preservation and display.



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17

The story of how local residents at Argos first began to reclaim their town’s archaeological heritage constitutes the subject m ­ atter of part II. Chapter 4 covers the reigns of, first, the Bavarian king Otto and then, following his removal in 1862, the Danish king George I. Foreigners continued to visit Argos, with a notable increase in German and American, as well as female, visitors. The town began to develop and expand in this period: a new cathedral, dedicated to St. Peter the Thaumaturge, was completed in 1865 and, in 1886, the railway arrived, connecting Argos to Athens. As their pre­de­ces­sors had done, the travelers described the vis­i­ble standing monuments of the ancient city but they also devoted more attention to spolia (ancient sculptural reliefs, architectural ele­ments, and inscriptions incorporated into ­later buildings). Around the ­middle of the nineteenth ­century, for the first time, ­there w ­ ere local initiatives to curate collections of antiquities—­ first in private ­houses and then, by 1859, in the Kapodistrian building that had originally served as a tribunal and seat of the town council before becoming the town hall. Argive newspapers began to carry articles concerning the ancient history of Argos and the discovery of antiquities, indicating a broader—­though by no means universal—­interest in the town’s archaeological heritage. ­There ­were also the first stirrings of local resentment against foreign archaeologists in the shape of criticism of Schliemann’s excavations at nearby Tiryns. Symptomatic of this newfound interest in local antiquities was the publication, in 1892, of Ioannis Kofiniotis’s A History of Argos. I argue that, in its fusion of the “Hellenic” and “Romeic” facets of Greek self-­indication, it localizes a national discourse that had been initiated a few de­cades e­ arlier by the literary scholar and folklorist Spyridon Zambelios and the historian Konstantinos Paparrigopoulos. Two years ­later, a local cleric and schoolmaster founded Argos’s first cultural association, the Argive Danaos Society, which aimed to promote the spiritual and intellectual interests of the citizens of Argos—­partly through a series of lectures and excursions and partly through publication of an in-­house newspaper, predictably titled Danaos. The society has survived even down to ­today although, in t­hese early years, its appeal was generally l­imited to an educated, professional class and while some lectures ­were sponsored on the cultural and archaeological heritage of Argos, they ­were vastly outweighed by pre­sen­ta­ tions on religious and ecclesiastical m ­ atters. To compensate, the local l­awyer and newspaper editor Dimitrios Vardouniotis, who had originally been involved with setting up the Argive Danaos Society, founded his own cultural association, the Inachos Secular Society (Laïkos Syllogos “Inachos”), which did promote activities that ­were of geo­graph­ic­ al, historical, and archaeological interest. Chapter 5 is dedicated to the first three de­cades of the twentieth ­century and, in par­tic­u­lar, to the pioneering archaeological, historical, epigraphical, and topographical studies of the Dutch scholar Wilhelm Vollgraff, who was

18 I NTRODUCT ION

sponsored—­officially if not financially—by the École Française d’Athènes. Vollgraff conducted seven seasons of excavation throughout the town of Argos in 1902–1904, 1906, 1912, 1928, and 1930, unearthing a prehistoric settlement and the sanctuary of Apollo Pythaeus on the Aspis, a Mycenaean cemetery on the Deiras ridge, the ancient agora, and two ­temples on the summit of the Larisa hill. He also cleared further the Hellenistic theater, the smaller odeion, and the Hadrianic nymphaeum. And yet, while his fieldwork revealed chapters of the town’s past that had escaped the notice of ancient authors, his philological training predisposed him to follow in the footsteps of Pausanias no less than had been the case with ­earlier Western visitors. Argive newspapers of the early twentieth ­century do, however, reveal that interest in the town’s archaeological heritage had by then spread beyond the confines of a narrow local intelligent­sia. For some editors, Vollgraff was treated as a celebrity, lending international authority to the study of Argos’s antiquities and, with luck, offering the prospect of a rise in cultural tourism to the town and the increased economic benefits that this would bring. Other papers ­were more critical, castigating the Dutch archaeologist for his excavation techniques, uninterest in conservation, disrespect for local authorities, and complicity in transporting his more impor­tant finds to Athens rather than depositing them in the local museum. Part of this broader social interest was due to the fact that, in their heyday, Vollgraff ’s excavations w ­ ere employing up to 100 local laborers, even though the excavation seasons typically lasted only a few weeks over the summer. More significant was the fact that Vollgraff dug at multiple locations si­mul­ta­neously throughout the town, meaning that most Argive residents w ­ ere directly or indirectly connected to individuals who e­ ither participated in the excavations or w ­ ere the proprietors of plots where architectural remains, inscriptions, or small finds ­were discovered. Fi­nally, the book’s conclusion first recounts events of the Second World War and Civil War and surveys the productive collaboration that arose between the Fourth Ephorate of the Greek Archaeological Ser­vice and the archaeologists of the École Française d’Athènes from the 1950s through to the 1990s. The same period, however, witnessed rapid—­and only very loosely controlled—­urban growth that frequently threatened to pit local proprietors and developers against the archaeological authorities. The book concludes with some necessary reflections on the value of cultural heritage and how it might be more widely embraced in a community for which the importance and enabling resources of history are not always self-­evident. It is by understanding the long history of how t­ hese tensions play out that we can begin to identify the dynamics that govern the creation of historical memory and the memorialization of the past, as well as the potential pitfalls that may threaten t­ hese pro­cesses.

Ch a p ter   1

A Greek Town for 6,000 Years

Argos is situated on the western side of the Argive plain—­a triangular coastal plain of 243 square kilo­meters, which is enclosed to the west by the Artemision range, dividing the Argolid from Arkadia; to the east by Mount Arachnaion, which divides the plain from what was, in antiquity, the territory of Epidauros; and to the south by the sea. The rich alluvial soil of the plain has been deposited by the River Inachos, which floods on average ­every fifteen years, as well as by its tributary, the Xirias (known in antiquity as the Charadros). The town itself is dominated by two hills. The Larisa (ca. 290 m), which forms the western limit of settlement, served as the acropolis of the ancient polis of Argos. To its northeast rises a lower, conical hill (ca. 80 m), which is commonly—­through prob­ably erroneously—­called the Aspis.1 To the north and east, the Xirias river flows around the Aspis and, in antiquity though not t­ oday, met the Inachos to the north of the town (maps 1a and 1b).2 One of the topoi most frequently associated with Argos, peddled by locals and visitors alike, is its sheer antiquity. The Cambridge cleric and theologian Thomas Smart Hughes, who visited in 1812–1813, described the Argolid as “the very cradle of demi-­gods and heroes,” while, in his 1892 History of Argos, the local schoolmaster and antiquarian Ioannis Kofiniotis lauded Argos’s antiquity by terming it “the Bethlehem of Hellas.”3 He prob­ably owed this belief to the second-­century CE traveler Pausanias (2.15.5), who narrates that 21

Argos

Inset: Central Argos

24

From Ancient History to t he Moder n E r a

the first inhabitant of the region was Phoroneus (the son of the river Inachos, according to one tradition) and that it was he who “first gathered men together in communities.” It is only relatively recently, however, that the fabled antiquity of Argos has received some archaeological confirmation. Leaving aside Palaeolithic settlement traces dating to around 50,000 years ago that ­were found 5 km southwest at Kefalari, settlement at Argos itself is already attested in the Late Neolithic. While archaeological dating is generally not sensitive enough to offer definitive proof of continuity of settlement, no very obvious or extended breaks are registered in the archaeological rec­ord for Argos. This is why the title of a French book on the long history of Argos translates as Argos: A Greek Town for 6,000 Years.4 Although many antiquities ­were unearthed in archaeological excavations during the twentieth c­ entury, ­there are some monuments that have been continuously vis­ib­ le in the Argive landscape—­notably, (1) the ancient and medieval fortifications on the summit of the Larisa (figure 2); (2) a large terrace supporting a second-­century CE nymphaeum (fountain h ­ ouse), donated by the Roman emperor Hadrian, beneath the eastern flank of the Larisa (figure 3); (3) a Hellenistic theater, dated to ca. 300 BCE, at the southeastern foot of the Larisa (figure 4); (4) a large second-­century CE Roman bath

Figure 2.  Inner enceinte of Larisa fortress, with Frankish walls surmounting Classical blocks.

Figure 3. ​Hadrianic nymphaeum on the eastern slope of the Larisa hill.

Figure 4.  The Hellenistic theater and (top right ) Baths A.

26

From Ancient History to t he Moder n E r a

complex (Baths A), to the southeast of the theater (figure 4); and (5) a smaller theatral structure, to the southwest of the Hellenistic theater, which was first built in the fifth c­ entury BCE—­prob­ably to ­house the citizen assembly—­and remodeled as an odeion, or concert hall, in the third ­century CE.

From Prehistory to the Roman Conquest Argos first ­rose to prominence in the ­Middle Helladic period (ca. 2000–1600 BCE), when a substantial settlement grew up on the Aspis hill, with another cluster at the foot of the Larisa.5 In the subsequent Late Helladic period (ca. 1600–1100 BCE), the regional center of gravity shifted to the opposite, eastern side of the plain and to settlements such as Mycenae, Midea, and Tiryns. While architectural ele­ments built into the ­later medieval fortifications on the Larisa strongly suggest that some sort of palatial structure may have occupied the summit of the hill, Argos—­like Thebes—­boasts none of the tholos (beehive) tombs that are characteristic of many Mycenaean settlements.6 Neither does it seem to have been abandoned when the Mycenaean palaces in the Argive plain and elsewhere in Greece ­were destroyed around 1200 BCE, so it emerged as the dominant settlement in the region at the start of the Early Iron Age.7 Initially, the settlement pattern suggests three or four separate, village-­ like clusters that occupied approximately the same surface area as the modern town, though ­these expanded to form a single habitation area in the course of the eighth ­century BCE.8 Indeed, the eighth ­century was something of a heyday for the ancient city: graves became more numerous and wealthier, the first sanctuaries began to appear, potters developed a distinctive high-­quality style of ceramics, and the products of Argive metalworkers ­were distributed widely. Inexplicably, many of t­ hese trends appear to have been reversed in the seventh ­century.9 The Larisa does not seem to have been fortified u ­ ntil the sixth ­century, and the walls that encircled the entire settlement are prob­ably an innovation of the fifth c­ entury.10 According to l­ ater authors, Argos was ruled by hereditary monarchs down to the ­later sixth c­ entury but much of the testimony is suspect and it is more likely that the polis was governed by a relatively small aristocracy which shared the most impor­tant magistracies on the princi­ple of rotation.11 At some point in this period—­perhaps, as Herodotos (6.127.3) seems to imply, in the late seventh or early sixth ­century—­power is said to have been usurped by a “tyrant” named Pheidon. Multiple sources refer to him but they date him to dif­fer­ent periods and credit him with dif­fer­ent actions and initiatives, making it ex-

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tremely difficult to reconstruct a reliable narrative.12 It is also Herodotos (1.82–83) who refers to a longstanding strug­gle between Argos and Sparta for the region of Thyrea on the eastern seaboard of the Peloponnese. In the mid-­ sixth ­century, this culminated in a ritualized ­battle of 300 “champions” for each side; the outcome of the ­battle was contested but, in a rematch between the entire Argive and Spartan armies, the Argives w ­ ere defeated.13 Another Argive defeat at the hands of the Spartans is attested for the first de­cade of the fifth ­century, when the Spartan king Kleomenes I invaded the Argolid and annihilated the Argive army near Tiryns. ­Later authors such as Plutarch and Pausanias say that Kleomenes then marched on the city of Argos itself but was repelled by a co­ali­tion of ­women, the el­derly, and slaves ­under the command of the poetess Telesilla, though Herodotos himself is unaware of this tradition (6.76–82). Herodotos (6.83.1) goes on to say that, with Argos depleted of its f­ ree adult manpower, the city came ­under the rule of former slaves (douloi)—­ perhaps a derogatory name for non-­elites.14 In any case, po­liti­cal instability in ­these years was likely one of the reasons why Argos refused to participate in the defense of Greece against the Persians in 480–479 BCE. ­There is some debate about the extent of Argos’s territory in this period. It was once commonly assumed that Argos had conquered its neighbors and unified the entirety of the Argive plain in the eighth ­century—­a belief seemingly bolstered by a tradition, attested much ­later by Pausanias (2.36.4–5; 3.7.4; 4.4.4, 8.3, 14.3), that Argos had destroyed the coastal settlement of Asine.15 ­There is now, however, sufficient evidence to suggest at least some degree of autonomy on the part of the other settlements of the Argive plain throughout the seventh and sixth centuries BCE. That changed in the 460s, when Argos embarked on an aggressive campaign of annexation and destroyed most of the neighboring towns in the plain.16 This may also be the period in which a demo­ cratic form of government was first introduced, although it is pos­si­ble that some pro­g ress in this direction had been made a ­little ­earlier, following the defeat at the hands of Kleomenes.17 It has sometimes been suspected that the architect of democracy at Argos was Themistokles, who was ostracized from Athens around 471 BCE and spent some time in the Peloponnese, including Argos (Plutarch, Life of Themistokles 23.1).18 In any case, Argos entered into an alliance with Athens in 462—­notably celebrated in Aischylos’s Eumenides—­and fought alongside the Athenians and against the Spartan-­led Peloponnesian League at the B ­ attle of Tanagra in 457 BCE. In 451 BCE, Argos contracted a thirty-­year peace with its erstwhile e­ nemy Sparta—­one of the few peace treaties that actually ran for the entirety of its intended duration. Upon its expiration in 421, however, Argos entered into the

28

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Peloponnesian War by forming a defensive alliance with Athens, Elis, and Mantinea, contributing troops to both the ­Battle of Mantinea in 418 and the doomed Athenian expedition to Sicily in 415–413 BCE.19 Following Athens’s defeat at the end of the Peloponnesian War, Argos took the side of Sparta’s former ally Corinth during the Corinthian War (395–387 BCE) and even succeeded in annexing Corinth in 392, incorporating its citizens into the Argive citizen body, though this unification (sympoliteia) was dissolved ­under the terms of the Peace of Antalkidas in 387 BCE. A ­ fter Sparta’s defeat by Thebes at the ­Battle of Leuktra in 371, Argos participated in the invasion of Spartan territory and assisted in the liberation of Messenia and the foundation of the new city of Messene; it also fought alongside the Thebans against the Spartans at Mantinea in 362 BCE. Throughout this period ­there ­were simmering tensions between the demo­cratic majority and a small oligarchic party. The oligarchs seized power briefly in early 417 BCE and again around 370 BCE. This second coup was again quickly suppressed but some demagogues incited the p­ eople to embark on a reign of terror, during which more than 1200 of the wealthier citizens w ­ ere put to death in a manner that our sources term skytalismos—­prob­ ably a form of punishment akin to crucifixion. At some point in the 340s, Argos entered into alliance with Philip II of Macedon and seems to have been rewarded with possession over Thyrea.20 Following the death of Alexander the ­Great in Babylon in 323 BCE, Argos joined Athens and other Greek cities in rebelling against Macedonian rule (the Lamian War). The insurgency was crushed by the Macedonian regent Antipater, who imposed garrisons and oligarchic governments on the defeated allies, though ­these ­were subsequently relieved in 318 when Antipater’s successor, Polyperchon, wrote to Argos and other cities with a promise of liberation. It was prob­ably at this date that Argos was able to annex the territory of Kleonai and take over the presidency of the Nemean Games—an event that almost certainly served as an impetus for the construction of the Hellenistic theater. In 316, Antipater’s son Kassander advanced on Argos from the territory of Epidauros and imposed a Macedonian garrison on the city; an attempt to defect was brutally suppressed when the garrison commander burned alive 500 of Polyperchon’s partisans in the prytaneion (city hall). In 303, however, Demetrios Poliorketes liberated Argos which, thanks to an interest-­free loan from Rhodes, set about restoring its fortifications and reconstituting its cavalry.21 In 272, Argos was u ­ nder the effective rule of Aristippos, a partisan of Demetrios’s son Antigonos Gonatas. Due to a feud, Aristippos’s po­liti­cal e­ nemy, Aristeas, appealed to the Epirote king Pyrrhos, who invaded the city from the southeast with an army of Gallic mercenaries. Amid confused and disorderly

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fighting in the streets, an el­derly w ­ oman, who was watching the mêlée from the roof of her h ­ ouse, hurled a tile at Pyrrhos, causing him to fall stunned to the ground, where he was dispatched by a Macedonian soldier. With Pyrrhos’s death, Argos remained loyal to Antigonos, u ­ nder the rule of Aristippos and then his son Aristomachos, and was rewarded with possession of almost the entire eastern seaboard of the Peloponnese. At some point in the 230s, Aristomachos was murdered by his slaves and was succeeded by his son, Aristippos II, who found himself defending Argos against repeated attacks launched by the anti-­ Macedonian Achaian League ­under its general, Aratos. Following Aristippos II’s death in ­battle near Mycenae in 235, his younger ­brother, Aristomachos the Younger, continued re­sis­tance to Aratos for a while but, in 229, agreed to join the Achaian League. Four years ­later, Argos was captured by the reformist Spartan king Kleomenes III, apparently with the connivance of Aristomachos the Younger, whereupon Aratos sought the help of the Macedonian king Antigonos Doson. The Spartan garrison was expelled, Aristomachos the Younger was tortured and murdered, and many Spartan-­leaning Argives ­were massacred.22 When, in 198 BCE, the Achaian League entered into alliance with Rome, Argos remained loyal to the new Macedonian king Philip V—in part ­because Philip was familiar with the city and had married an Argive w ­ oman. But Philip needed the support of Sparta in his war with Rome and the price of that support was to cede Argos to the Spartan ruler Nabis, who immediately went over to the side of the Romans. With Philip’s defeat at Kynoskephalai in 197, however, the Romans and the Achaian League turned against Nabis; as a result, Argos was liberated in 195 and rejoined the Achaian League. With the devastating defeat of the Macedonian king Perseus at Pyd­na in 168, Rome began to turn its attention ­toward the Achaian League. A Roman demand for the surrender of five cities, including Argos, was rejected. In 146 BCE, Corinth was sacked by the Roman consul L. Mummius, the Achaian League was dissolved, and Greece became part of the Roman empire.23 Although initially it may have benefited eco­nom­ically from the destruction of Corinth, Argos did not count for much in the first c­ entury of Roman rule although, in the 60s BCE, it seems to have served as a way station for Pompey’s actions against Cilician pirates. Renewed building activities attest to a new period of prosperity following the establishment of the pax Romana by Octavian/Augustus in the last third of the first ­century BCE. Argos’s fortunes r­ ose yet further when the emperor Hadrian visited the city in the winter of 124–125 CE. Among the benefactions that Hadrian bestowed on the city w ­ ere the restoration of an urban sanctuary of Hera and the construction of a 30 km long aqueduct which conveyed w ­ ater from the surrounding mountains to the nymphaeum at the foot of the Larisa.24

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At the time Pausanias visited Argos, around the ­middle of the second ­century CE, the city was evidently prosperous and thriving. That affluence would continue for a further two centuries. Although the eighth-­century Byzantine chronicler Georgios Synkellos (Chronography 467.22) claims that Argos—­along with Athens, Corinth, Sparta, “and the ­whole of Achaïa”—­was a casualty of the Herulian invasion in 267, t­here is ­little trace of any widespread devastation in the archaeological rec­ord. Even in the l­ater third c­ entury, public works w ­ ere still taking place in the agora, the civic and religious hub of the Classical and Hellenistic city, including a ­temple that was constructed above the ruins of a monumental statue group.25 Notably, this may also be the period in which Argos was surrounded by a new fortification wall, which enclosed an area significantly larger than that which had been included within the Classical and Hellenistic cir­ cuit.26 Around, or shortly before, the ­middle of the fourth ­century, a monumental hearth was installed in what was prob­ably the center of the agora, marked off by a trapezoidal enclosure of stone pillars that had been reused from a sixth-­ century BCE shrine to the seven heroes who had set off from Argos to restore Oidipous’s son Polyneikes to the throne of Thebes (the so-­called Seven against Thebes).27 When the site was excavated, the hearth, about 60 cm deep, was discovered filled with ash above a layer of calcinated logs and contained fragments of pottery as well as seventeen lamps. The excavator tentatively suggested that the hearth was a late revival of the “fire of Phoroneus,” observed almost two centuries ­earlier by Pausanias (2.19.5).28 Certainly, notables w ­ ere still being initiated into the rites of Dionysos at nearby Lerna in the second half of the fourth ­century.29 Like many cities throughout Greece, Argos suffered two reversals in the last de­cade of the fourth ­century. The first, in 391 and 392, was the decrees issued by the Roman emperor Theodosios I, closing t­ emples and prohibiting the public practice of non-­Christian rituals. Archaeological investigations of the sanctuary of Aphrodite, near the Hellenistic theater, suggest that cult ­here ceased at the end of the fourth c­ entury and t­ here are material indications from the agora that point in the same direction.30 The second, in 396, was the devastation caused by the army of the Visigoth leader Alaric who, ­after taking Corinth, captured Argos “and all the countryside between it and Sparta” (Zosimos, New History 5.6.4). A well in the agora, which was filled in at the beginning of the fifth c­ entury and which was found to contain vandalized statues and a broken plaque commemorating Hadrian’s restoration of a sanctuary of Hera, may be a casualty of Alaric’s sack if it was not the direct response to Theodosios’s legislation.31

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Byzantines, Franks, Venetians, and Turks Although private residences now encroached on formerly public areas such as the agora, the continuing wealth of Argos in the Early Byzantine period is indicated by the construction of bath installations and large, private h ­ ouses, richly decorated with mosaics, such as the fifth-­century House of the Falconer.32 New roads ­were laid out, paved with materials robbed from Classical monuments and an elegant quarter grew up to the southeast of the urban habitat. This is where, close to the current church of St. Constantine, a large church with marble and mosaic pavements—­prob­ably the seat of the bishop—­was built t­ oward the end of the fifth ­century, although it was destroyed around the m ­ iddle of the sixth c­ entury and replaced by a cemetery.33 Another large Christian basilica was built, in the sixth c­ entury, in the abandoned sanctuary of Apollo Pythaeus on the Deiras ridge, and destroyed around 975.34 Elsewhere in the town, however, entire neighborhoods w ­ ere abandoned—­prob­ably as a consequence of devastating earthquakes in 522 and 551 as well as the pandemic that ravaged Greece in 541–542.35 According to the Chronicle of Monemvasia (p. 12, 92, to p. 16, 133), the invasions of the Avars during the reign of the emperor Maurice, who ruled from 582 to 602, forced the inhabitants of Argos to flee to the island of Orobe (perhaps to be identified with the islet of Romvi, opposite Tolo). The Chronicle is, however, a problematic source, redacted some five or so centuries ­after the events described ­here. By contrast, the evidence of archaeology and toponyms in the region surrounding Argos is not indicative of an overwhelmingly intrusive presence of invaders. It may be that, ­after a brief raid around 585, Slavic pastoralists initially occupied settlements on the margins of the Argive plain and only at a ­later date began to cohabit with Greek populations in the towns surrounding Argos.36 On the other hand, recognizably Slavic pottery at Argos does not seem to predate the seventh c­ entury and t­ here are no written sources that explic­itly document the settled presence of Slavs in the Argolid.37 ­Either way, ­there can be ­little doubt that Argos, like much of the Peloponnese, witnessed unsettled conditions and a relative impoverishment during the seventh and eighth centuries. It is only in the ninth ­century—­and especially with the reor­ga­ni­za­tion of the Byzantine Empire ­under the Macedonian dynasty of Basil I—­that Argos began a slow recovery. According to tradition, the first katholikon of the monastery of the Concealed Virgin (Panagia i Katakekrymmeni) on the northeastern slope of the Larisa hill was founded in the ninth or tenth ­century (figure 5).38 This is the period in which St. Peter the Thaumaturge, ­later a­ dopted as the town’s patron saint, was appointed to the bishopric of Argos. The Life of St. Peter, prob­ably written by his disciple Theodore of Nicaea

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Figure 5.  The Larisa hill. The monastery of the Concealed Virgin with its clock-­tower can be seen on the northeastern slope and, further down the hill, a large cave.

and discovered in the Vatican Library only in 1883, refers to an invasion by unspecified “barbarians,” perhaps Bulgarians (7), a devastating famine (8), and incursions by Arab pirates from Crete (9), so clearly conditions w ­ ere still unsettled in the early tenth ­century.39 The cemetery church of the Dormition of the Virgin (i Kimisis Theotokou), which still stands to the south of the town and incorporates in its walls materials from ancient buildings (spolia), is generally dated to around 1100 CE, though it could be half a c­ entury ­earlier (figure 6).40 Excavations inside the medieval kastro on the summit of the Larisa hill, which served as the acropolis for the ancient city, have brought to light a one-­aisled church, built over the ruins of a three-­aisle pre­de­ces­sor. An inscription notes that it was founded in 1174, during the reign of Emperor Manuel I Komnenos, and was also dedicated to the ­Mother of God (Theotokos). This church prob­ably served the needs of a garrison, which would suggest that the Larisa was already fortified by this date, even though the northern stretch of the inner enceinte, abutting the church, is unlikely to predate the thirteenth or ­fourteenth centuries.41 The suggestion finds some support in the Kitab nuzhat al-­mushtaq, a geo­g raph­i­cal

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Figure 6.  The church of the Dormition of the Virgin.

work by the Arab polymath Al Idrissi, commissioned by the Norman king Roger II of Sicily in 1154, where Argos is described as one of the sixteen or so most impor­tant and renowned towns of the Peloponnese, possessing “­castles and permanent markets” (4:150–51).42 In 1189, the bishopric of Argos and Nafplio, which had previously been u ­ nder the jurisdiction of the archbishop of Corinth, was elevated to the status of a metropolitan see in its own right.43 Faced with threats from the Serbs and Hungarians to the north and the Normans to the west, as well as with internal factionalism, the Byzantine Empire’s grip on much of the Peloponnese began to loosen in the twelfth ­century. Finds of Italian ceramic imports at Argos testify to the trading privileges that the Venetians managed to secure from the Byzantine emperor.44 Amid the insecurity that accompanied the abortive Fourth Crusade, Leon Sgouros, the archon (governor) of Nafplio, seized control of Argos and Corinth in 1202. With the emperor’s attention diverted ­toward the threat posed by the Franks, who would capture Constantinople two years ­later, Sgouros moved northward, besieging Athens and sacking Thebes. When he was near Larisa in Thessaly, he came to terms with the ousted emperor Alexios III, who gave Sgouros his ­daughter’s hand in marriage and the title of despotis. Sgouros was, however,

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pushed back by the larger Frankish army of Boniface of Montferrat and retreated to the fortified acropolis of Corinth where, ­after a siege lasting several years, he committed suicide in 1209 or 1210.45 Argos, along with Nafplio and eventually Corinth, was captured by Michael I Komnenos Doukas, the ruler of the Byzantine rump state of Ipiros, who placed it ­under the protection of his ­brother Theodoros.46 According to the fourteenth-­century Chronicle of the Morea (2084–86), the ­castles of Corinth, Anapli (Nafplio), Monovasia (Monemvasia), and Argos still remained in Greek hands a­ fter Geoffrey I de Villehardouin of Champagne was recognized as the prince of Achaia (i.e., the Morea or Peloponnese) in 1209 or 1210.47 In 1212, however, Theodoros was forced to surrender Argos and Nafplio to Geoffrey, who granted it as a fiefdom to Otto de la Roche, a nobleman from Burgundy and the Megaskyr (Megas Kyrios, or ­Great Lord) of Athens, in gratitude for his support.48 The two towns remained ­under the control of the de la Roche ­family and the related Brienne line down to 1356, even though the rest of the Duchy of Athens fell to the Catalan Com­pany in 1311, when Gautier II de Brienne was killed.49 It was prob­ably during this period that much of the inner enceinte of the Larisa kastro was erected on top of the walls of the ancient acropolis.50 In 1356, the lordship of Argos and Nafplio passed to Gautier’s nephew, Guy d’Enghien.51 Upon Guy’s death in 1376, his only ­daughter, Marie, inherited the fiefdom, but with her marriage to Pietro Cornaro of Venice the following year, the towns essentially entered into the Venetian orbit. When Cornaro died heirless in 1388, Marie sold Argos and Nafplio to Venice for an annual income of 700 ducats.52 Before the Venetians could occupy their new possessions, however, both towns w ­ ere captured by Theodoros I Paleologos, the Byzantine Despot of Mystra, along with his Turkish allies and his father-­in-­law, the Florentine Duke of Athens, Nerio Acciaiuoli. Nafplio was recaptured within a ­matter of months, but Theodoros held Argos for a further five years. It was only ­after Nerio’s imprisonment by the Navarrese captain Pierre Bordo de Saint Superan, in 1389, and the dissolution of his alliance with the Turks that Theodoros agreed to cede Argos to the Venetians, who fi­nally occupied the town on June 11, 1394.53 On June 2, 1397, Argos was sacked by the Ottoman army of Sultan Bayazid ­under the command of Evrenos-­bey. Around 14,000 inhabitants of the Argolid ­were enslaved and transported to Asia while the region was repopulated with Albanian, Turkoman, and Tatar colonists.54 Argos and Nafplio ­were largely spared the further Turkish predatory incursions into the Peloponnese that took place in 1423, 1431, and 1446.55 But in the spring of 1460, seven years ­after the capture of Constantinople, Sultan Mehmed II invaded the Peloponnese, conquering almost the entire peninsula within ­little more than a year.

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Many of the Venetian towns held out a while longer: in fact, Nafplio was ceded to the Sublime Porte only in 1540 but Argos fell without re­sis­tance to the Turks in April 1463 and much of its population was deported to Constantinople.56 In the next few de­cades, the population would be replenished with Albanian immigrants, many of them from Viotia (ancient Boiotia). Writing ­toward the end of the nineteenth c­ entury, Kofiniotis remarks that the descendants of t­ hese Albanians resided in Argos even in his own day, although they had been “thoroughly Hellenized.”57 The Ottoman siege of Vienna in 1683 provoked an alliance known as the Holy League of Linz between the Holy Roman Empire, the Papal States, Poland, and Venice. Venetian troops, u ­ nder the command of the f­uture Doge Francesco Morosini, captured Santa Maura (Kefalonia) in 1684 and most of the Peloponnese between 1685 and 1687. A Venetian contingent, led by the Swedish general Otto Königsmark, captured Argos on June 29, 1686, while Nafplio capitulated on September 3, becoming not only the provincial capital of Romania but also the capital of the entire Morea and the seat of the provveditore generale. Venetian possession of the Morea was confirmed by the Treaty of Karlowitz in 1699.58 Faced with massive depopulation, the Venetians encouraged the large-­scale immigration of Greeks from central Greece, Chios, and Crete, with more affluent mi­grants being planted in Nafplio while the villages around Argos w ­ ere resettled with farmers and pastoralists.59 A new wave of Albanians also seems to have migrated to the Argolid at this time.60 The Venetians retained their newly won possessions for barely a generation. In the summer of 1715, a large Ottoman army ­under the command of Ali Cumurgi crossed the Corinthian isthmus and invaded the Peloponnese, capturing Corinth in July, Argos shortly afterward, and, following a nine-­day siege, Nafplio on July 20. The vast system of fortifications that the Venetians had constructed on the Palamidi hill at Nafplio proved of no avail a­ fter the Turks exploded a mine beneath the walls; around 25,000 soldiers and civilians are said to have been killed or enslaved.61 Accompanying the Ottoman army, Benjamin Brue, the interpreter of the French ambassador to the Sublime Porte, notes that Argos had been abandoned by its inhabitants while the Larisa c­ astle was in ruins.62 The town would remain in the hands of the Ottomans u ­ ntil the spring of 1821.

The First Travelers For the earliest postantique chroniclers, Argos was of interest only for its current strategic importance in the conflicts among the Byzantines, Franks, and

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Venetians, and is predominantly referenced in connection with the maritime town of Nafplio.63 The twelfth-­century Arab geographer Muhammed Al-­Idrisi describes Argos for its aesthetics, as a “celebrated place with a beautiful landscape” (Section 4, fol. 150v).64 This might suggest some familiarity with the traditions and history associated with the town, though it is uncertain w ­ hether the description is based on personal autopsy as opposed to ancient sources such as the second-­century CE geographer Claudius Ptolemy. Ciriaco dei Pizzicolli (better known as Cyriac of Ancona), who passed through the Argolid in 1448, offers no description of Argos proper, but he does comment on “very many remarkable monuments of the ancients” (pleraque . . . ​veterum insignia monumenta) in the surrounding Argive plain (Diary 5.66). Around 1550, the voyage of Gabriel d’Aramon, French ambassador to the Ottoman Empire, was recorded by one of his secretaries, Jean Chesnau. Chesnau offers no detailed description of Argos but compares it to Sparta, which he notes is “destroyed and ruined; although its vestiges show it to have been a beautiful and large town, that is no longer the case.” He adds: “it w ­ ill be sufficient for me to say that this w ­ hole country is so desolate that he who sees it now would scarcely believe that it had been as fertile and as renowned as the historians have described it.”65 By the time the Turkish traveler Evliyâ Çelebi visited Argos in 1668, the town had been ­under Ottoman rule for a ­little over two centuries and was the seat of a governor. In the twelfth volume of his Seyâhatnâme (Book of travels), Çelebi describes how he braved ambushes by bandits on the road from Tripoli (in Arkadia) to Argos, where his first stop was the kastro on the Larisa. He observes that, within the outer enceinte, t­ here ­were around 150 ruined ­houses, abandoned due to plague, as well as a mosque named a­ fter Mehmed the Conqueror. He is especially struck by a tall, domed tower on the western side of the outer enceinte, which served as a platform for five “royal” cannons. ­After noting a suburb on the slopes of the Larisa of around eighty Christian and Muslim ­houses, he turns to the lower town, which he describes as a dispersed settlement, divided into eleven neighborhoods and comprising around 800 ­houses with vineyards and gardens, two large and ten smaller mosques, a medrese (Islamic theological school), two schools, two Dervish lodges, a bath­ house, an inn, twenty stores, and 500 fountains. Fi­nally, he returns to the subject of the vineyards, adding that forty dif­fer­ent va­ri­e­ties of grapes ­were grown. He has nothing to say about any ancient remains in the town.66 At about the same time, the French traveler André de Monceaux was sent to Ottoman Greece by the minister of finance, Jean-­Baptiste Colbert, in order to procure manuscripts and coins for the library of Louis XIV. The expedition resulted in the acquisition of sixty-­two large volumes of Greek manuscripts

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for the royal library.67 While t­ here are two accounts of Monceaux’s stay in Argos, it is unclear w ­ hether they refer to separate visits. In the first, described in a letter written July 27, 1669, Monceaux complains that despite spending an entire day in the town, he was unable to find any columns, architectural ele­ ments, or reliefs, save for “a mass of stone, which had once been a triumphal arch, stripped of all decoration, and some walls of a t­ emple made of brick— or, to be more precise, I saw only its location.”68 A much fuller description is preserved as an appendix to the travel account of the Dutch artist Cornelius de Bruyn, originally published in 1711. Monceaux describes Argos as a village of around 300 ­houses, built using spolia from ancient monuments. He identifies a marble-­clad brick monument on the slopes of the Larisa (i.e., the Hadrianic nymphaeum) as the ­temple of Apollo Deiradiotis and, near it, a relief depicting a figure on a throne, in front of another figure on a tripod. Like Çelebi, he notes the presence of ­houses within the Larisa ­castle. Monceaux is also the first to observe the remains of the theater (which he incorrectly describes as an amphitheater) with rock-­cut steps beneath the Larisa and, a stone’s throw away, a large ­temple—­the “­temple made of brick” recorded in the letter mentioned above—­which he attributes to Venus (Aphrodite). His specification that the structure terminated in an apse makes it certain that the building to which he refers is the large Roman bath­house by the theater (Baths A). The function of the complex, which was installed in the second ­century CE within what may have been a first-­century CE sanctuary of Sarapis, was confirmed beyond any doubt by French archaeologists only in 1954.69 To the east of the theater was a cemetery and, beyond that, the so-­ called triumphal arch, consisting of a dome supported by six white marble columns. The arch no longer survives and it has been conjectured that it may have been a Roman funerary monument on Tripoleos Street. Fi­nally, Monceaux adds that, not far from the arch w ­ ere some wells, which he tentatively associated with the traditions surrounding the d­ aughters of the legendary king Danaos.70 The tower of the Larisa ­castle, which so impressed Çelebi (and of which only the lower courses survive t­ oday), is clearly vis­i­ble in an engraving made in 1686 by the Venetian cartographer Vincenzo Maria Coronelli. ­After recording the early (legendary) kings of Argos, from Inachos to Perseus (whom he dates 2,741 years ­after the creation of the world), Coronelli comments that, on account of the passage of time, the town in his own day was reduced in both size and population and “conveyed nothing of majesty save its name” (altro non conferua di maestoso, ch’il proprio nome).71 Bernard Randolph, an En­glish merchant who visited Ottoman Greece in the 1670s does rec­ord ruins, which he describes as “above three miles about the ­castle,” but gives no

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further details.72 He has l­ ittle e­ lse to say about Argos, other than that it is more built up and populated—­though less dispersed—­than Corinth, that its walls are mostly ruined, and that its “delightsome” plain abounds with wine, oil, and all sorts of grain.73 During the Second Venetian Occupation of 1686 to 1715, the administrative and strategic importance of Nafplio (then commonly known as Napoli di Romania) consigned Argos to a largely secondary role. Nicola Mirabal, a French officer who entered into the ser­vice of the Venetian Republic and visited Argos in the 1690s, describes it as “­little more than a large ruined village with few ancient remains.” He does, however, rec­ord a cruciform gate (perhaps Monceaux’s triumphal arch) and a ­temple of Juno (Hera)—­prob­ably Baths A—as well as “a Colosseum, much less considerable than that of Rome” (i.e., the theater). A ­ fter remarking that the Larisa ­castle could ­house a garrison of 200 soldiers, he comments on some traces of the town “on the left, ­towards the east,” which suggested to him a habitat comparable to the French town of Orléans in terms of size.74 The French traveler Depellegrin, who passed through in 1718, describes the town as “totally wretched,” with a population of 300 Greeks and fifteen to twenty Turks.75 Following the Ottoman recapture of the Peloponnese, Nafplio became the capital of the Eyalet of the Morea ­until the administrative seat was transferred, in 1786, first to Leontarion and then, in 1791, to Tripolitsa (modern Tripoli). At Argos, meanwhile, the Larisa ­castle was repaired and a large bastion constructed on a pyramidal base to the west of the main entrance. In the lower town, the hospital of the ­Sisters of Mercy, which the Venetians had constructed to the south of what is now the market square, was transformed into a bazaar and post office.76 Michel Fourmont, a Catholic priest and Professor of Syriac at the Collège Royal in Paris, traveled to Constantinople and Greece in the com­pany of his nephew, Claude-­Louis Fourmont, between 1728 and 1732 with the aim of purchasing manuscripts and inscriptions for the library of Louis XV.77 He claimed to have brought back some 3,000 previously unknown inscriptions, including the laws of the sixth-­century BCE Athenian statesman Solon and lists of Spartan magistrates, though, in his Analytical Essay on the Greek Alphabet of 1791, the En­glish connoisseur Richard Payne Knight argued convincingly that Fourmont had forged many of t­ hese inscriptions.78 About a c­ entury ­later, Guillaume-­ Abel Blouet, of the French Scientific Expedition to the Morea, noted that Fourmont had published thirty-­seven inscriptions from Argos but believed that he had deliberately destroyed all but five of them.79 Fourmont prob­ably stayed in Argos in November 1729 and describes the town as virtually destroyed, save for some groups of h ­ ouses occupied by Al-

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banians. He counts thirty churches, half-­destroyed and badly built, and two mosques as well as two monasteries and the gardens of the mufti of Nafplio, formerly occupied by the archbishop of Argos, which seem to have been situated in the area to the south of the town by the church of the Dormition of the Virgin. In terms of antiquities, Fourmont rec­ords—­albeit in a very confused manner—­what we now know to be the baths adjacent to the theater but he also notes, at the foot of the Larisa, an entrance to twelve subterranean chambers. He identified them as quarries, though he suspected that they ­were pointed out to Pausanias as including the tomb of Krotopos, the ­temple of Cretan Dionysos, and the prison chamber in which the legendary king Akrisios confined his ­daughter, Danae (Pausanias 2.23.7).80 By the end of the eigh­teenth ­century, then, Argos had become a regular stop on any tour of Ottoman Greece. The accounts of ­these Western travelers provide much useful information about both the con­temporary town and the antiquities that ­were still vis­ib­ le—­the latter, in most cases, deemed decidedly disappointing in relation to the fame of ancient Argos. That disillusion was generated primarily by the difficulty visitors had in matching physical remains to the information they knew about the city through ancient texts.

Ch a p ter  2

The Rediscovery of Argos

In the fifty or so years that preceded the outbreak of the Revolutionary War in 1821, the volume of travelers who passed through Argos increased significantly. Almost all ­were well versed in ancient lit­er­at­ure but, in traversing the urban palimpsest created by the multiple reconfigurations of the town in previous centuries, they invariably experienced a profound disconnect between what they w ­ ere predisposed to expect and what they actually encountered on the ground.

From Ancient to Modern The Oxford classicist Richard Chandler visited the town in 1766 t­ oward the end of a two-­year expedition sponsored by the London Society of Dilettanti, by whom he was charged with making plans, drawings, and mea­sure­ments of monuments as well as copying inscriptions.1 Chandler’s work in Asia Minor was to influence the Voyage pittoresque de la Grèce of Marie-­Gabriel-­Florent-­Auguste de Choiseul-­Gouffier who, from 1784, would be the French ambassador to the Ottoman Empire.2 Choiseul-­Gouffier himself focused mainly on the Aegean islands and Asia Minor, but he dispatched two of his agents—­the painter and antiquarian Louis-­François-­Sébastien Fauvel and the architect Jacques Foucherot—to Greece, where the two visited Argos in October 1780; two years ­later, the painter 40

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Louis-­François Cassas, also in the ser­vice of Choiseul-­Gouffier, visited the town.3 It must have been at about this time that the French naturalist Charles-­Nicolas-­ Sigisbert Sonnini de Manoncourt passed through Argos on the ­orders of Louis XVI. According to the En­glish botanist John Sibthorp, who visited the Peloponnese in 1795, the town suffered significant damage at the hands of “the Turks” (actually, Albanian mercenaries) in the wake of the abortive Orlov revolt of 1770, while “a ­great part of its population” was lost to a plague epidemic.4 The year 1799 saw the publication of the Viaggio in Grecia by the Sicilian writer Saverio Scrofani. This is an intensely personal and sentimental account of a journey made in 1794–1795 that strug­gles to navigate between scientific recording and literary exposition, though it was evidently well enough received to be translated into French just two years ­later.5 An equally colorful account of Argos is provided by François Charles ­Hugues Laurent Pouqueville, who visited the town in 1799 while he was technically in the custody of the Ottoman pasha of Tripolitsa.6 A polymath, Pouqueville was also a physician and he evidently thought that Argos was especially unhealthy, describing yellow-­tinged inhabitants suffering from goiters, scrofula, elephantiasis, dropsy, and hydrocephalus—­conditions for which he blamed the noxious evaporations from the paddy fields south of Argos.7 Seven years l­ ater, on August 19 / 31, 1806, François-­René, vicomte de Chateaubriand found himself bogged down in t­ hose same paddy fields while traveling to Argos.8 His host in the town was Dionysios Avramiotis, an Italian-­educated doctor and antiquarian who offers a startling inversion of the more typical allochronic asymmetry between the unenlightened local and the expert outsider. So, for example, Chateaubriand recounts how Avramiotis showed him a map, on which he had started to replace the modern names with their ancient equivalents, and described it as “a precious work and one that could only be carried out by men resident in ­these places since many years.” He goes on to express his belief that Avramiotis had not been displeased to be rid of him ­after only one night: “although he received me with ­g reat civility, it was easy to see that my visit had not come at the right moment.”9 Avramiotis himself was more forthright, declaring himself to be disillusioned with what he considered to be Chateaubriand’s “anti-­scientific” methods.10 Indeed, in a comment to Lodoïs de Martin du Tyrac, Comte de Marcellus, Chateaubriand complains: “This captious and spiteful doctor spared me nothing. He hounded my dreams one by one; when I was in the ruins with the shadow of Agamemnon, he wanted me to mea­sure stones.”11 ­Here, the local resident has been recast as the careful scientist and the educated Westerner as a hopeless romantic. Chateaubriand’s observations on the town can, however, usefully be compared to ­those of the Cambridge antiquarian and mineralogist Edward Daniel Clarke,

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who visited Argos in 1801; of the Irish painter Edward Dodwell, who spent ten days in the town in December 1805; and of Col­o­nel William Martin Leake, who used Argos as a base for his travels in March 1806.12 The Cambridge classicist Sir William Gell visited Greece between 1801 and 1806 and then again in 1811—­the last mission sponsored by the Society of Dilettanti. His Itinerary of the Morea, published in 1817, gives a detailed account of his travels, including his visit to Argos, where he noted that “the ­children . . . ​ are remarkably troublesome and insolent to strangers.”13 Shortly afterward, Charles Robert Cockerell and Karl Haller von Hallerstein, the excavators of the ­temple of Aphaia on the island of Egina, passed through the town, but only for the purposes of verifying Gell’s account.14 Also in 1811, Veli Pasha, the son of Ali of Ioannina and Ottoman governor of the Morea, removed a mosaic from the southeast mosque (see below) and conducted excavations in the area of the theater at Argos, where he discovered a number of sculptures, including statues of Apollo, Aphrodite, and Asklepios, a relief depicting Zeus and Leda (now in the British Museum), and a base inscribed with the name “Attalos” (CIG 1146)—­perhaps the Athenian sculptor who, according to Pausanias (2.19.3), was responsible for the cult statue of Apollo Lykeios.15 Emily Neumeier argues that Veli complicates the paradigm of an indigenous-­colonial opposition “by introducing a third group of stakeholders who played an impor­ tant role in ­these cross-­cultural, trans-­imperial encounters: Ottoman provincial elites.”16 On the other hand, as both an Albanian Muslim and an agent for the Ottoman Porte, Veli’s interventions at Argos could also be seen as just another variety of colonialism. Gell’s Cambridge colleague, the theologian Thomas Smart Hughes, who toured the Mediterranean between 1812 and 1813, encountered his own perils at Argos, complaining about the large “Molossian” hounds that the Albanian residents kept, which ­were so ferocious “that it is dangerous for a stranger to walk unguarded through the streets.”17 In 1817, Argos was one of the destinations of Louis-­Auguste Félix de Beaujour, who was dispatched to Greece to inspect French consulates and institutes in the Levant, and of the Swiss banker Count James-­Alexandre de Pourtalès-­Gorgier, who was in search of ancient artworks to purchase.18 The next year, Peter Edmund Laurent, a French-­born lecturer in modern languages at the University of Oxford, toured Turkey, Greece, and Italy in the com­pany of two classical colleagues. At Argos, he was struck by the general healthiness of the local population, despite claiming that the poorest lived on a year-­round diet of a type of porridge made from pumpkin, but snobbishly complained about what he viewed as constant harassment from the Greek and Turkish residents of the town: “­Every time we ­stopped we w ­ ere surrounded by crowds of staring blockheads.”19 Fi­nally,

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the Comte de Marcellus, who was secretary to the French ambassador to Constantinople and the agent who procured the Venus de Milo for the Louvre, ­stopped by Argos in 1820, where he visited a school.20 The school is prob­ably the same one mentioned by Clarke nineteen years ­earlier, which had been founded in 1798 on the initiative of the power­ful Perroukas ­family.21 Clarke notes that it was run by a Greek priest (­Father Benjamin, according to other sources), who instructed students in writing, arithmetic, astronomy, physics, and rhe­toric.22 By the time of Marcellus’s visit, the school was u ­ nder the direction of Isaïas Kalaras from Agionori. The astonished visitor describes in some detail how some of the students—­many of them Albanian—­recited scenes from a heroic drama entitled Leonidas at Thermopylai. As he noted, it was a rather serendipitous prelude to the revolution that would break out the following year in the Peloponnese but it also foreshadows the way in which education in par­tic­u­lar would not only graft the Hellenic onto the Romeic but also incorporate the monumental time of the nation-­state within the social time of the local community.23

Varying Perspectives The estimates that ­these travelers offer for the population of Argos in the de­ cades ­either side of 1800 vary significantly: Gell put it at nearly 4,000, whereas Pouqueville reckoned it to be in excess of 10,000, three-­quarters of whom w ­ ere Greeks.24 The two also disagree about the alignment of the h ­ ouses: Pouqueville writes that the h ­ ouses are without alignment or order but Gell notes that they are “generally built in right lines,” and this is clearly also the view of Clarke and of Hughes, who rec­ords how the “streets of the modern town are formed by long parallel rows of mean detached cottages.”25 Most visitors comment on the extent of the town, with numerous yards and gardens separating the small, low houses—­the majority of which ­were constructed of mud brick whitened with lime or plaster, while the wealthier residences w ­ ere painted in bright colors.26 The settlement lay largely to the north or northeast of the ancient remains with potteries and tile factories dotting the outskirts.27 We also know that the town was divided into four quarters: (1) Liepour, immediately south of the Aspis, which was renamed Arvanitia a­ fter the installation of Albanians ­there in the wake of the Russo-­Turkish war of 1770; (2) Bekir-­Efendi, at the eastern foot of the Larisa; (3) the lower-­class quarter of Romaïkos, to the east of the town; and (4) Karamoutza, to the southeast.28 The town was home to a mixed population of Greeks, Albanians (Arvanites), and Turks—­the last constituting somewhere between 15 and 20 ­percent.29 Liepour was originally populated by “Christian aristocrats,” while many of the

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more affluent Turks lived in Békir-­Efendi and Karamuntza, where several visitors comment on a “handsome” mosque surrounded by cypress trees, which would ­later be converted into the church of St. Constantine (figure 7). A second mosque stood in the center of the town, supposedly constructed from blocks taken from the sanctuary of Asklepios at Epidauros.30 Pouqueville describes the bazaar, which stood on the spot of the Venetian hospital of the ­Sisters of Mercy, as large and crowded.31 Accommodation apparently left much to be desired. T ­ here was a khan (lodging h ­ ouse) in the town, but Chandler describes it as “miserable” and Dodwell rec­ords that it was so filthy that he was forced to lodge with a “mad Greek.”32 We have already seen that Chateaubriand was hosted by Dr. Avramiotis, while Clarke, Gell, and Leake lodged with the Greek archon, a wealthy merchant named Christos Vlassopoulos, who had originally come from Mystra in Lakonia, and who had hosted Lord Elgin and his ­family in 1802.33 Gell would ­later recount that Vlassopoulos had been engaged in smuggling grain.34 Scrofani, instead, stayed with a high-­ ranking Turkish official named Ahmet Aga, whose pride he found “unbearable.”35 It is highly likely that Scrofani is one of the targets of Pouqueville’s caustic observation that “Italian charlatans” tended to visit the affluent Turks of the town b­ ecause they ­were the ones who had the most beautiful h ­ ouses!36

Figure 7.  The church of St. Constantine, formerly the southeastern mosque.

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The Attraction of Antiquities Most visitors to Argos climbed the Larisa, though Laurent complains that it took a long time to find a guide who had the courage to accompany him since the locals believed the citadel to be haunted.37 In the absence, however, of corroborative evidence, this might simply be the sort of dismissive imputation of epichoric superstition that is typical of Western visitors. ­There are several descriptions of the medieval walls that stood on top of the ancient fortifications: Dodwell, for example, describes “polygonal” walls inside the c­ astle while Leake distinguishes between polygonal masonry and what he terms “the Tirynthian style.”38 Hughes, who uses the currently sanctioned term “cyclopean” to denote the Late Bronze Age blocks inside the enceinte of the ­castle, describes seeing an inscription, “half buried in the wall of the fortress” and previously noted by both Dodwell and Gell, but professed that he was unable to decipher it.39 The theater is also widely commented upon, although the hapless Scrofani was unable to locate it despite searching in the vicinity of a fountain that still provided w ­ ater to the town.40 Gell correctly noted that it had been built by the Greeks but “partly restored in brick by the Romans.”41 Descriptive details vary: Hughes describes sixty rows of seats while Leake counted sixty-­seven, divided into three horizontal zones and with a possibly capacity of 20,000 ­people, though he also conjectured that further rows might lie buried at its foot beneath earth washed down from the Larisa.42 Several travelers ­were suitably impressed by the Hadrianic nymphaeum on the east flank of the Larisa, just north of the theater.43 Dodwell, who notes that the local name for the monument was Limiarti, describes the sixth-­century BCE terrace that supports the nymphaeum as “a fine mass of wall of the well-­joined polygonal construction” and notes the reliefs of enthroned figures on which Monceaux had commented more than a c­ entury ­earlier.44 Leake also comments on the nymphaeum, although he inexplicably locates it to the east, rather than north, of the theater.45 He notes that the terrace was supported by a “Hellenic polygonal wall” while the nymphaeum itself was a Roman construction, at the extremity of which was a semicircular niche and, ­behind it, a narrow passage of brick.46 Hughes, on the other hand, writes about a deep cavern, whose walls ­were lined with marble.47 The function of the nymphaeum was not, however, universally recognized: Chateaubriand, Foucherot, and Beaujour seem to have realized that it was part of an aqueduct, but Leake thought that it was “the reparation of some ancient ­temple,” even ­going so far as to suggest that the narrow passage ­behind the building was “some secret contrivance of the priests,” while Hughes speculated that this was the building that the ancient Argives had identified as the prison in which Danae had been confined.48

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It is, however, the Roman bath complex (Baths A) to the southeast of the theater that is consistently misidentified by early nineteenth-­century visitors to Argos as much as it had been by their pre­de­ces­sors. Its chronology was generally recognized: Dodwell, who includes it among “some uninteresting masses of Roman architecture,” describes a “large Roman brick wall,” while Leake characterizes it as “a ruin of Roman tiles and mortar, with a semi-­circular niche at one end, and arched recesses in one of the side walls” and Hughes argues that it should be Roman, not so much on account of the construction materials but b­ ecause of the alcove and arched roofs.49 Sketches and engravings show that much of the apsidal west end of the complex was still standing while the northern wall was preserved up to a height of about 11 m, although a short stretch of the southern wall, which appears in a sketch made by Cassas in 1782, had dis­appeared at some point between 1802 and the time of the French Scientific Expedition to the Morea in 1829.50 As we have seen, in the seventeenth c­ entury, Mirabal had identified the structure as a t­ emple of Hera and Monceaux as a ­temple of Aphrodite; around 1700, the Venetian engineer Francesco Vandeÿk considered it to be the ­temple of Apollo Pythaeus while, a ­century l­ater, Fauvel suggested that it was the Kriterion—­the lawcourt where Hypermestra was supposedly put on trial by her f­ ather Danaos for not killing her husband Lynkeus (Pausanias 2.20.7; cf. 2.19.6).51 Dodwell was told by a Turkish agha (a military or civil officer) that it was the seraglio or harem of “an Argive king,” although another Turkish guide informed him that it was an assembly place for 10,000 Greeks to sing, dance, “and make fools of themselves.”52 For both Chateaubriand and Hughes, however, the complex was pointed out as the palace of Agamemnon—­a “vulgar error,” according to Hughes, who protested that the palace of Agamemnon must have been at Mycenae, thereby touting his Homeric learning against what he clearly regarded as epichoric ignorance.53 Aside from the above-­mentioned structures, several travelers describe a chapel of St.  George above the theater, which they identify as the site of the ­temple of Venus or Aphrodite. Specifically, Clarke argued that its identification was assured by the reuse of Corinthian columns in the chapel, while Gell talks about an inscription in the vicinity.54 In fact, the identification is almost certainly dependent on Pausanias’s description (2.20.8) of the sanctuary of Aphrodite as being ὑπὲρ the theater—an adjective that in Greek does often mean “above” but can also mean “beyond.” The discovery in 1967 by the École Française d’Athènes of the Aphrodite sanctuary to the south of the theater ensures that Pausanias intended the preposition in the second sense.55 Dodwell noted additional brick remains further up the acropolis that can no longer be identified and suggested that the monastery of the Concealed Virgin stood on

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the site of the ancient sanctuary of Hera Akraia, whereas Clarke and Gell hypothesized that the cave next to the monastery (figure  5) had originally ­housed the oracle of Apollo Deiradiotis—­a sanctuary whose ruins Scrofani claimed to have seen on his ascent to the kastro.56 Scrofani also thought that he had discovered, in a vineyard in the northern part of the town, the traces of the ­temple of Apollo Lykeios: “the form, the structure, the place, the proportions of the remains are sufficient indication that they belong to an ancient ­temple. Some bases that one still sees t­ here seem to have served for the statues with which the t­emple was filled.”57 Although Leake also hypothesized the ­temple’s location in the north of the town,58 Thucydides (5.47.11) and Sophokles (Elektra 6–7) make it clear that the t­ emple stood in the agora, which would ­later be identified to the south of the modern town. Leake does, however, seem to have been one of the first to notice twenty-­one steps, excavated in the rock contiguous to the southwest corner of the theater; since they w ­ ere rectilinear, the seats “must have belonged to some separate place of spectacle.”59 In fact, they belong to a square theatral structure, perhaps the ekklesiasterion or assembly place, constructed in the third quarter of the fifth ­century BCE and redesigned as an odeion in the Roman period.60 One of the more puzzling aspects of Fourmont’s visit to Argos in 1729 was his account of the subterranean passages at the foot of the Larisa. In a florid description, he recounts how the entrance was situated “at the foot of the rock on which the fortress is built,” how the passage was narrow and low with unhealthy air, and how a series of twelve chambers opened up alternately on e­ ither side of the passage. Although he believed them to be stone quarries, he conjectured that they had been pointed out to Pausanias (2.23.7) as monuments connected to the legendary past of Argos: he identified, for example, the fifth chamber on the left as the tomb of Krotopos and the second on the right as the ­temple of Cretan Dionysos, while another would have been associated with the prison of Danae. He also notes that the passage ran north as far as the sixth chamber, a­ fter which it turned east ­toward the Larisa fortress ­until the twelfth chamber, when it turned north and then east again, continuing in this manner ­until it terminated beyond the fortress.61 One ­century ­later, the French Scientific Expedition to the Morea could find no trace of ­these passages and, in light of the charges of fraud and fabrication that ­were l­ater laid against Fourmont, his testimony has often been discredited.62 Yet Dodwell tells us that, in the vicinity of the theater, he entered into “the ­house of a Turk” (actually, a tekke or Muslim shrine) and was conducted down into subterranean vaulted chambers, paved with black and white mosaics, which he too associated with Pausanias’s description of the prison of Danae, the tomb of Krotopos, and the ­temple of Cretan Dionysos.63 It is highly likely that ­these

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subterranean passages belong to the northern flank of a system of cryptoporticos, which ser­viced the hypocaust of Baths A, adjacent to the theater. Indeed, a series of graffiti, dating between 1822 and 1833, makes it clear that ­these under­ ground passages w ­ ere often visited in the nineteenth ­century.64 ­Whether this was what Fourmont had described, perhaps with some exaggeration, some seventy-­five years ­earlier is difficult to determine. The beginning of Fourmont’s description could fit the layout of the cryptoportico, but the rest is impossible to reconcile with the under­ground passages excavated in Baths A. Furthermore, on a drawing intended to accompany Fourmont’s notes, the entrance to the subterranean passages is indicated at some distance from what would ­later be identified as Baths A and closer to the Hadrianic nymphaeum.65 Conversely, Patrick Marchetti has suggested that the entrance might be identified with a shaft he discovered in a garden 60 m southwest of the odeion.66 It is, then, prob­ably the case that Fourmont’s narrative is a largely ­imagined pastiche of Pausanias’s account and a vague description of the cryptoportico of Baths A that is e­ ither imperfectly remembered or—­more likely—­obtained at second or third hand. On his first visit to Argos, Gell describes, on the southern slope of the Aspis, “subterraneous passages . . . ​covered like the galleries of Tiryns with approaching stones,” which he suggests might be cisterns.67 Leake also writes about “subterraneous passages, constructed with an angular roof, like the galleries at Tiryns,” but he associated them with the prison chamber (thalamos) of Danae and located them “on the southeastern side of the hill.”68 His reasoning seems to be that (1) the terms that Pausanias applies to the prison of Danae are similar to t­ hose he employs to describe the “trea­suries” of Mycenae, and (2) the trea­suries of Mycenae are, architecturally speaking, similar to both the subterranean galleries at Tiryns and the passages on the slopes of the Aspis.69 Michel Sève is almost certainly correct in suggesting that Gell and Leake are referring to a Hellenistic cistern that Vollgraff would l­ater identify on the Aspis. Certainly, this cistern matches up with Kofiniotis’s ­later description of a subterraneous passageway, 65 feet in length and terminating in a small circular chamber with plastered walls, which “­others” had associated with the prison of Danae (figure 8).70 Vollgraff found and cleared another similar cistern, near the summit of the hill on the southwest side, which might explain why Gell and Leake refer to multiple passageways. If this identification is correct, then clearly the cisterns w ­ ere still roofed in the early de­cades of the nineteenth c­ entury—­but no longer when Vollgraff came to clear them. ­Needless to say, visitors ­were not averse to procuring antiquities if the opportunity presented itself. Hughes rec­ords that ancient coins could be found with relative ease—­either among the ruins or adorning con­temporary female headdresses—­and describes how, one eve­ning, he was offered a few antiqui-

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Figure 8.  Hellenistic cistern on southeast slope of Profitis Ilias.

ties for purchase, “greatly mutilated and totally devoid of beauty.”71 Laurent even claims that the Jewish smiths in the town w ­ ere in the habit of defrauding visitors by selling them forgeries of ancient coins.72 But antiquities w ­ ere also the currency of social networks among the local elite: Clarke recounts how his host, Christos Vlassopoulos, presented him with a silver Ptolemaic coin and terracotta funerary vases discovered in a nearby village and also promised him further finds that he might sell on the antiquities market.73

Monumental Disappointments When it comes to monuments, however, a common motif that pervades nearly ­every account is one of profound disappointment. Chandler notes that “the devastations of time and war have effaced the old city. We enquired in vain for its numerous edifices, the Theatre, the Gymnasium, the t­ emples, and monuments, which it once boasted, contending even with Athens in antiquity and in favours conferred by the gods.”74 In a similar vein, Sonnini de Manoncourt writes: “Had not history transmitted to us the certainty of its existence, we should at pre­sent be ignorant that it had ever been built. Time and men have annihilated e­ very vestige of it, so power­f ul is the empire of destruction which

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consumes works.”75 Scrofani, in par­tic­u­lar, seems to have entertained unrealistic hopes in anticipation of his visit, daring to won­der ­whether the h ­ ouse of Achmet-­Aga, in which he was to lodge, might stand on the very ruins of Agamemnon’s palace. In the end, he was to discover that “of more than fifty proud monuments, ­there remain only the foundations of, at most, two or three.”76 As Pouqueville wistfully comments, “Argos, whose name is all that remains of that famous town, contains no more than some scraps of its remains,” while Chateaubriand expresses regret that “nothing remains of t­ hose famous families made famous by Homer, Aischylos, Sophokles, Euripides and Racine.”77 The disappointment was, of course, conditioned by the fact that ­these travelers visited the town with expectations that w ­ ere almost entirely the product of their reading of ancient authors.78 David Constantine makes a persuasive argument that, in some cases, experiencing the climate, topography, and manners of Ottoman Greece prompted western Eu­ro­pean visitors such as Lady Montagu, Robert Wood, or Pierre Augustin Guys to claim a better understanding of ancient texts such as the Homeric epics or the Idylls of Theokritos. This “ethnographic” interpretation of the past through the pre­sent was, of course, predicated on a belief in a fundamental continuity, largely determined by geography.79 Visitors to Argos, on the other hand, tend to stress discontinuity between the past and pre­sent population and their decision to make the town a destination is largely driven by their knowledge of ancient authors. They w ­ ere familiar with Homer, and especially the “geography” of the Argive plain that is presented in the Cata­log of Ships (Iliad 2.559–568), but also with the Attic tragedians. Scrofani, for example, had hoped to identify the Argive landmarks that are described to Orestes at the start of Sophokles’s Elektra—­the agora with its ­temple of Apollo Lykeios and the ­temple of Hera.80 Plutarch’s account (Moralia 245c–­f ) of how the Argive poetess Telesilla armed the ­women of Argos and defended the city against an invasion by King Kleomenes of Sparta in the early fifth ­century BCE inspires a florid treatment of the episode by Hughes, while Chateaubriand writes how chatting on the roof of Dr. Avramiotis’s h ­ ouse brought to mind Plutarch’s account, in the Life of Pyrrhos (34), of how the Epirote king was wounded by a tile, hurled down from a rooftop by an el­derly Argive ­woman.81 Above all other authors, however, it is Pausanias whose work figures most prominently in the accounts of the travelers: as Richard Burgess would ­later note, “no traveler in Greece can proceed without Pausanias.”82 Dodwell describes how, “on entering the town, the traveller is inclined to ask where are the thirty t­ emples, the costly sepulchres, the gymnasium, the stadium, and the numerous monuments and statues that Pausanias has described?”83 Leake,

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whose Topography of Athens with Some Remarks on Its Antiquities, first published in 1821, is essentially an extended commentary on book 1 of Pausanias, attempts a similar undertaking for Argos, seeking to locate the t­ emple of Apollo Lykeios and its surrounding monuments, the theater, the temple of Venus/ Aphrodite, the gymnasium of Kylarabis, the gates of Argos, and other topographical features on the basis of the “ascertained positions of Larissa, Deiras, the theatre, and the ­temple of Lucina.”84 Indeed, it is clear that the ­earlier account of Chandler, which discusses the sanctuary of Apollo Deiradotis, the stadium, and the ­temples of Zeus Larisaios and Athena Polias, is based not on autopsy but on Pausanias’s description of Argos.85 As Athanassopoulos notes, from the seventeenth ­century, “medieval pilgrimage had . . . ​been replaced by a new kind of exploration. The objective was to construct alternative landscapes by empirical observation and historical research, represented in the use of ancient authors like Pausanias as travel guides.”86

Pausanias’s Pilgrimage to Greece The author of the Description of Greece (Hellados Periēgēsis) offers ­little in the way of autobiographical information—­not least ­because the work, at least in the form we have it, lacks a preface and an epilogue. Writing in the de­cades e­ ither side of ca. 200 CE, Claudius Aelianus (Historical Miscellany 12.61) refers to an account about Megalopolis in Arkadia by a certain Pausanias, and the sixth-­century grammarian Stephanos of Byzantium cites from the second book of Pausanias’s Description (Ethnika s.v. “Araithyrea”).87 Recent scholarship on Pausanias is greatly indebted to Christian Habicht, whose Sather Lectures on Pausanias w ­ ere 88 delivered at Berkeley in 1982 and published three years ­later. As Habicht explains, the “Description of Greece itself is our only source of information about its author.”89 From references to places and events in the text, it is generally believed that Pausanias was born in the second de­cade of the second c­ entury CE and that he came from the area of ­either Pergamon or, more prob­ably, Magnesia ad Sipylum in Lydia.90 The text of the Description of Greece is reconstructed from manuscripts that are defective and do not pre-­date the fifteenth ­century. The account covers only the Greek mainland (Crete and the islands are omitted) but does not include Thessaly or Macedonia, suggesting that the work may have e­ ither been unfinished or originally included more material.91 Save, however, for an unfulfilled promise to discuss Lokris (9.23.7), the evidence of more than 100 cross-­ references to existing passages strongly suggests that the version that we possess is more or less complete.92 In his description of the Achaian city of Patrai

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(7.20.6), he notes that he did not mention Herodes Atticus’s odeion at Athens in book 1, “­because my account of the Athenians was completed before Herodes commenced work on the building.” Since the odeion was built in memory of Herodes’s wife Regilla, who died in 160 or 161, Pausanias’s proj­ect must have begun in the late 150s at the latest. The last emperor to be mentioned is Marcus Aurelius, who died in 180, so the work prob­ably took more than twenty years to complete.93 Although the directions that Pausanias gives are often infuriatingly vague for modern topographers and archaeologists, it is clear that Pausanias expected his readers to follow in his footsteps, which is why he is sometimes regarded as an ancient Baedeker or Blue Guide. In truth, it would appear that his work had l­ ittle impact in the centuries ­after his death. Habicht hypothesizes that, in juxtaposing descriptions of what he saw with often lengthy treatments of myth or history, Pausanias’s attempts to appeal to two dif­fer­ent audiences ­were ultimately unsuccessful. In fact, the inclusion of the mythological and historical accounts actually added to the book’s length and weight, rendering it unwieldy for a traveler wishing to use it as a guide book. Conversely, extended descriptions of monuments or works of art would have been relatively meaningless to ­those who read it in the comfort of their study or library.94 It was not u ­ ntil Eu­ro­pean travelers rediscovered Greece in the late seventeenth and eigh­teenth centuries that the value of Pausanias’s work came to be appreciated. Leake apparently owned no fewer than nine editions of the work.95

From Herodotos to Pausanias Pausanias’s literary antecedents w ­ ere the periploi (circumnavigations) of authors such as the second-­century writers Polemon of Troy and Heliodoros of Athens and the con­temporary Telephos of Pergamon, although t­ hese accounts ­were typically concerned with individual cities or districts; as far as we know, Pausanias was the first to write about “all ­things Greek” (1.26.4).96 But Pausanias was also greatly influenced by the Histories of Herodotos, who—­along with Homer and Pindar—is one of the authors that he cites the most.97 In addition to his familiarity with written sources Pausanias, like Herodotos, is heavi­ly dependent on inscriptions that he saw and on the oral testimony of exēgētai, who w ­ ere prob­ably local antiquarians rather than tour guides as such.98 Similarly, Pausanias is intrigued by what is “most notable with regard to both traditions and sights” (1.39.3) and is just as scrupulous in citing conflicting sources, even when he does not necessarily believe them.99 So, for example, while discussing a statue of the runner Oibotas at Olympia, he exclaims, “I am compelled to discuss what the Greeks say, though I am not obliged to be-

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lieve it all” (6.3.8), which recalls Herodotos’s statement (7.152.3), “I am obliged to say what is told but not to believe it all.”100 Again like Herodotos, he displays a deference to religious m ­ atters, even to the extent of maintaining an “ostentatious silence” concerning knowledge that he thinks should not be disseminated to an uninitiated audience (e.g., 1.38.7).101 The most significant parallel between the two authors is the way in which accounts and traditions (logoi) are prompted by physical monuments or works of art. As Jaś Elsner puts it, “­every footstep to a new site is equally a narrative movement to a new story or a new ritual.”102 ­There is, however, one impor­tant re­spect in which the works of Pausanias and Herodotos w ­ ere fundamentally dif­fer­ent: while the latter largely defined Greekness through contrasts with the culture of foreign ­peoples such as the Persians, the Egyptians, the Libyans, and the Scythians,103 Pausanias “was self-­ consciously exploring Greek identity through ‘looking at all ­things Greek.’ ”104 Commenting on Pausanias’s almost obsessive interest in religious m ­ atters, Elsner suggests that we view him as a type of pilgrim—­not so much in the Christian sense of pilgrimage, which typically draws the faithful to a Holy Land elsewhere, but more in the tradition of Hindhu and Buddhist pilgrimage, “which takes a pilgrim like Pausanias to the sacred centres of his own land.”105 For Elsner, Pausanias had to reconcile the glorious deeds and accounts of the Greeks with their current subjection to the Roman Empire and he did this by adopting the status of a pilgrim: “the traveller turned pilgrim was no longer searching for an historical past that was denied by the pre­sent; he sought rather a sanctified present-­past whose sacredness had pervaded ­these places since the beginning, despite history.”106 This formulation accounts well for the apparent heterochrony that characterizes Pausanias’s account of the sites that he visits, where myth and history are thoroughly entangled within the fabric of cultural memory. Nevertheless, some qualification is necessary. As Domenico Musti points out, Pausanias’s Description of Greece is the product of an age in which “the most cultured and wealthiest classes from the periphery of the Greek world enthusiastically direct their sights and attention to the motherland, which is the basis of their cultural and po­liti­cal identity.”107 The key word ­here is “periphery.” It is difficult not to see a parallel between Pausanias’s proj­ect and the foundation of the Panhellenion, in honor—­and perhaps even on the initiative—of the emperor Hadrian in 131–132 CE.108 The Panhellenion was a league of Greek cities in which membership seems to have been granted on the basis of demonstrated affiliation to communities of mainland Greece, often ­imagined as the metropoleis or found­ers of settlements in the wider Greek world.109 During this period, commonly known as the Second Sophistic ­because it witnessed a re­nais­sance of Classical Greek—­and especially

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Athenian—­culture, ­there was a vigorous debate concerning how au­then­tic Hellenicity was to be defined, with authors such as Lucian or Favorinus arguing that the only criterion that counted was Greek paideia (“education” but also “culture”), which could be obtained anywhere in the empire.110 The Panhellenion espoused an alternative ideology—­that the well-­springs of Hellenic identity ­were to be sought in the Greek mainland—­and the Lydian Pausanias seems to have agreed. He may have moved among t­ hose who spoke his language but his reverence for the geo­graph­i­cal core of Hellenic identity was likely intensified by the sense that he was not a true “insider.” This would certainly account for the cognitive distance one can sometimes discern in the work between the external observer and the won­ders that he encounters. As Susan Alcock puts it, Pausanias can be considered as an ethnographer—­“as an individual who travelled among and wrote of a ­people from the outside looking in.”111 ­There is also—­and largely for the same reasons—­a temporal distancing or allochrony at work. In keeping with many authors of the second c­ entury, such as Apollodoros and Arrian, Pausanias exhibits a reduced lack of interest t­ oward events or monuments of the recent past.112 His Greece is largely the Greece of the periods prior to the Roman sack of Corinth in 146 BCE. In recording events of the fifth ­century, he has most to say about the Persian Wars, when a handful of Greek states defied Xerxes to maintain their liberty; by contrast, he has ­little to say about the de­cades that led up to the Peloponnesian War, when the large alliances contracted by Athens and Sparta convulsed and ultimately ripped apart the Greek world.113 Although he dutifully reserves some praise for the emperors Hadrian, Antoninus Pius, and Marcus Aurelius, he regards the Romans generally as foreign despots, who had robbed the Greeks of both their liberty and countless works of art, and his opinion of the Macedonian dynasts is not much dif­fer­ent, even if he displays a par­tic­u­lar curiosity for events of the Hellenistic period.114 Ultimately, “what Pausanias offers his readers is a fantasy of Greece, of the prodigious phenomenon that Greece once was, made credible by its physical and con­temporary attestations.”115 Pausanias’s Greece is, in other words, a Foucauldian heterotopia—­“an ­actual place conceived as being other­wise and existing outside normative social and po­liti­cal space.”116

Pausanias’s Heterotopic Argos Musti believed that much of the text of book 2 of the Description of Greece was composed between about 145 and 150—­that is, ­toward the end of Hadrian’s reign or in the early years of that of his successor, Antoninus Pius—­but that it was edited and updated between 155 and 170.117 Pausanias entered the Ar-

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give plain from Corinthia via the Tretos (Dervenaki) pass—­later the site of a famous Greek rout of Ottoman forces in 1822. First of all, he recounts the legends surrounding the first occupant of the region—­either Inachos or his son Phoroneus—­and the contest between Hera and Poseidon for patronage of the Argolid (2.15.4–5). He then narrates the traditions concerning the descendants of Phoroneus down to Perseus, the founder of Mycenae, including the legends of Io’s journey to Egypt, the arrival from Egypt of Danaos and his ­daughters’ slaughter of their husbands, and Perseus’s accidental killing of his ­father, Akrisios (2.16.1–3). Next, he visits the ruins of Mycenae and the sanctuary of Hera at Prosymna (2.16.4–17.7), before taking the road to Argos, on which he describes the hero shrine of Perseus and the tomb of Thyestes (2.18.1–2). ­After passing an extraurban sanctuary of Demeter Mysia, he crosses the river Inachos and enters the city of Argos by the Eileithuian Gate, named ­after the nearby sanctuary of Eileithuia, on the eastern side of the city (2.18.3).118 At this point, he resumes his narrative of the Argive kings from Megapenthes to Meltas, who was condemned by the Argive demos and ousted from power (2.18.4–19.2).119 The account includes the madness of the ­women of Argos, who w ­ ere cured by the Messenian seers Melampous and Bias; the expedition to Troy; and the expulsion of Teisamenos, son of Orestes, by the Dorians ­under the leadership of Temenos. More than a ­century of excavations in Argos has shed considerable light on Pausanias’s itinerary. Especially critical was the identification in 1967 of the sanctuary of Aphrodite by archaeologists from the École Française d’Athènes. One can thereby recognize at least five “topographic chains,” which prob­ably correspond to separate trips, perhaps made on successive days, with the agora normally serving as the point of departure.120 The first chain commences with the sanctuary of Apollo Lykeios on the northern side of the agora, described by Pausanias (2.19.3) as the “most prominent” sanctuary of the city. ­After describing the wealth of dedications to be seen in and around the sanctuary, he loops up to the sanctuary of the Horai via a series of statues, trophies, and tombs, the sanctuary of Zeus Nemeios, and the tomb of Phoroneus, before retracing his steps to the agora, where he describes a statue group to the Seven against Thebes, the tomb of Danaos (which Strabo [8.6.9] notes stood in the center of the agora), and the shrines of Zeus Soter, Adonis, and Kephisos (2.19.3–20.6). He then heads west from the agora, noting the Kriterion, where Hypermestra was put on trial by her f­ ather Danaos, the theater, the sanctuary of Aphrodite, and the sanctuary of Asklepios, before returning to the agora (2.20.7–21.1).121 The second chain recommences in the agora with a white marble monument erected on the spot where Pyrrhos’s body was cremated. Pausanias then heads

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in a northeasterly direction, past a series of tombs as well as the sanctuaries of Leto, Hera Antheia, Demeter Pelasgis, Poseidon Proklystios, and the Dioskouroi. The route terminates at the sanctuary of Hekate, close to the Eileithuian Gate, by which he had initially entered the city (2.21.4–22.7). The third chain leads him from the agora in an easterly direction ­toward the gymnasium of Kylarabis, which Livy (34.26) says was situated about 300 paces (400 m) outside the city walls. On the way, he notes the tombs of Likymnius, the ­uncle of Herakles, and the seventh-­century flautist Sakas (2.22.8–9). The fourth chain, northward from the agora to a part of the city named Koile, takes Pausanias past the sanctuaries of Dionysos, Amphiaraos, Asklepios, and Baton, the h ­ ouse of Adrastos, and the tomb of Eriphyle, the wife of Amphiaraos. On the way back, he notes the tomb of Hyrnetho, d­ aughter of Temenos, and what he describes as “the most prominent” of the sanctuaries of Asklepios (2.23.1–6).122 At this point (2.23.7), Pausanias adds that “the Argives have other ­things that are worthy of viewing,” including the subterranean chamber in which Akrisios confined Danae, the tomb of Krotopos, and the sanctuary of Cretan Dionysos. Fi­nally, the fifth chain takes Pausanias to the sanctuaries of Zeus Larisaios and Athena Polias on the Larisa acropolis, by way of the sanctuary of Hera Akraia and t­ hose of Apollo Deiradiotis and Athena Oxyderkes on the Deiras ridge (2.24.1–4).123 ­After his visit to Argos, Pausanias leaves by the southern gate to take the road to Arkadian Tegea, although he then returns to the city twice more: first, to take the roads to Mantinea and Lyrkeia, which start from the Deiras Gate to the northwest of the city; and then, through a gate to the southeast of the city, to take the road leading to Tiryns and Epidauros (2.24.5–25.10). In his description of Argos, Pausanias exhibits many of the tendencies that characterize his work as a w ­ hole. Throughout, monuments offer visual cues that trigger narratives. So, for example, the ­temple of Apollo Lykeios prompts an account of how Danaos arrived in Argos and disputed the rulership of the city with Gelanor (2.19.3–4). A seated marble statue of Zeus Meilichios, the work of Polykleitos, was dedicated ­after the Argives had been purified following their massacre of an elite contingent of 1000 men ­under the command of a certain Bryas (2.20.1–2). The sanctuary of Aphrodite contained a relief depicting Telesilla, which gives Pausanias the opportunity to recount the poetess’s role in organ­izing the female defense of the city against Kleomenes (2.20.8–9). The sanctuary of the Dioskouroi provides an occasion to discuss the parentage of Iphigeneia (2.22.6–7). And a brief discussion of the return of the Argives from Troy is prompted by the ­temple of Dionysos (2.23.1). Similarly, Pausanias’s acquaintance with “all ­things Greek” offers him some perspective when it comes to evaluating Argive claims. With regard to the so-­

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called tomb of Prometheus, he considers that the Argive assertion is “less likely” than that of the Opountian Lokrians (2.19.8). He cites the Cartha­g inian writer Prokles to suggest a more plausible account of Medusa (2.21.5–6) and prefers Homer’s account over what the Argives told him with regard to w ­ hether any of the ­children of Niobe ­were spared by Apollo and Artemis (2.21.9–10). A bronze vase, near the sanctuary of Demeter Pelasgis, cannot contain the remains of Tantalos, son of Zeus, b­ ecause ­these ­were buried on Mount Sipylos in Lydia (2.22.2–3; cf. 5.13.7). What is billed as the tomb of Hyrnetho can only be a cenotaph since Pausanias accepts the account of the Epidaurians, who pointed out her tomb on the hill above their city (2.23.3; cf. 2.28.3–6). And he disputes the Argives’ claims to the tombs of Deianeira and Helenos and the Palladion (statue of Athena) that Diomedes and Odysseus are supposed to have stolen from Troy: Deianeira is buried at Herakleia Trachinia, Helenos left for Epiros, and Aeneas had taken the Palladion to Italy (2.23.5–6). In fact, this last difference of opinion prompts Pausanias to make his only comment on his local in­for­mants: “Nor indeed has it escaped the notice of the exēgētai of the Argives that not every­thing they say is true, but they say it nevertheless; for it is not an easy ­thing to make the many change their minds on ­matters that are contrary to what they believe” (2.23.6). The implication seems to be that Argive antiquarians ­were happy to tell visitors what they wanted to hear—­a complaint that eerily foreshadows that of Western travelers in the modern era.124 Pausanias rec­ords somewhere in the region of 150 “sights” in the city and suburbs of Argos (­table 1). As one might expect from a writer with a marked “predilection for the sacred as opposed to the profane,” sanctuaries, ­temples, altars, and cult statues constitute about a third of this number, but cult statues themselves account for only around one-­fifth of the more than sixty-­four statues that he describes.125 Furthermore, almost as much attention is focused on tombs, of which he rec­ords thirty-­two. Almost nothing is said about secular buildings—­the theater (2.20.7), the gymnasium of Kylarabis (2.22.8), and the stadium (2.24.2) being the principal exceptions. In more than 40 ­percent of cases, Pausanias offers no date for the monuments and artworks that he chronicles, but archaeology instead has sometimes provided this information. For example, we know that the sanctuary of Aphrodite near the theater was already in use by the end of the seventh c­ entury; a small ­temple was constructed in the 420s, followed by a remodeling in the Roman period.126 Vollgraff identified two sets of foundations within the inner enceinte of the medieval c­ astle on the Larisa, of which one, normally associated with the t­ emple of Athena Polias, dates to the sixth c­ entury although evidence for cult stretches back at least as far as the m ­ iddle eighth ­century.127

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­Table 1  Sites by category and period in Pausanias MYTHICAL

Sanctuary

12

Tomb

28

Altar

1

Statue (cult statue)

15 (3)

Other

5

TOTAL

61

ARCHAIC

CLASSICAL

HELLENISTIC

2 2

1

ROMAN

UNDATED

19 1

TOTAL

33 32

2

3

>37 (5)

>64 (14)

2 (2)

>7 (3)

3 (1)

1

3

4

13

4

>11

7

>62

>145

Similarly, cultic activity in the sanctuary of Apollo on the Deiras ridge prob­ ably begins ­toward the end of the eighth ­century, with construction of a ­temple before the end of the sixth.128 And, although the t­emple of Apollo Lykeios has not yet been definitively identified and excavated, material in the Granias plot, which may be associated with the sanctuary, suggests activity that dates back to the sixth ­century at least.129 Conversely, we sometimes have archaeological findings that cannot easily be related to Pausanias’s description: foundations have been uncovered of a ­temple (­Temple K), constructed around 300 BCE over ­earlier remains in the Koros plot on the eastern side of the agora, which has been variously identified as that of Athena Salpinx, Hera Antheia, or Demeter.130 For monuments that are ­either dated in the text or whose date can be in­ de­pen­dently determined, Pausanias shows a characteristically studied silence on ­those that w ­ ere con­temporary or recent. In fact, he does not describe a single monument that can be unambiguously assigned to the Roman period—­ including the Hadrianic nymphaeum on the east slope of the Larisa which, as we have seen, was commented upon by most of the early visitors to Argos.131 Perhaps more surprisingly, only seven features can be definitively dated to the Hellenistic period: the monument erected over Pyrrhos’s pyre (2.21.4); the cult statue of Apollo Lykeios by Attalos (2.19.3); the statues of the Hellenistic sculptors Xenophilos and Straton in the sanctuary of Asklepios (2.23.4); the theater (2.20.7); the shield of Pyrrhos in the sanctuary of Demeter (2.21.4); and the trophy commemorating a victory over the other­wise unknown tyrant Laphaes (2.21.8).132 A few more sights can be assigned to the Classical period of the fifth and fourth centuries BCE. Many of ­these are statues, including that of the runner Ladas, who won an Olympic victory in 460 (2.19.7), or the boxer Kreugas of Epidamnos, who was prob­ably active around 400 (2.20.1; cf. 8.40.3–5), as well as the statue of Zeus Meilichios by Polykleitos (2.20.1) and cult statues of

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Hekate by Skopas (2.22.7), of Leto by Praxiteles (2.21.8), and of Zeus Nemeios by Lysippos (2.20.3). If the t­ emple of Zeus Nemeios in the agora dates to the same period as its cult statue, which need not be the case, then it too belongs to the Classical period, as does the t­emple of Aphrodite, though the relief of Telesilla which stood in it may be l­ater (2.20.8). Pausanias also rec­ ords a trophy commemorating a victory over the Corinthians (2.20.1) and the grave of ­those Argives who w ­ ere killed assisting the Athenians in the Sicilian 133 Expedition of 415–413. The tomb of the flautist Sakas (2.22.8), if genuine, should date to the late seventh c­ entury, as should the tomb of Epimenides of Crete (2.21.3), although Pausanias elsewhere (3.11.11) casts doubt on the Argive claim.134 What is perhaps most surprising is that Pausanias attributes what we would term “legendary” origins to a full 40 ­percent of the monuments and works of art that he rec­ords.135 This is especially true of graves: twenty-­eight of the thirty-­two tombs or cenotaphs that he documents are ­those of heroes such as Phoroneus (2.20.3), Danaos (2.20.6), Hypermestra (2.21.2), the sons of Aigyptos (2.24.2), and the warriors who died at Troy (2.20.6). Similarly, almost half of the t­ emples or sanctuaries that he describes are said to have been found by legendary personalities: for example, Apollo Lykeios by Danaos (2.19.3); Artemis Peitho by Hypermestra (2.21.1); Eileithuia by Helen, wife of Menelaos (2.22.6); and Athena Oxyderkes by Diomedes (2.24.2). Equally fabulous are his descriptions of the h ­ ouse of Adrastos, leader of the expedition against Thebes (2.23.2), and the prison of Danae (2.23.7), which so captured the imagination of prominent visitors such as Fourmont, Dodwell, Leake, and Hughes. It is not that ancient Greek writers ­were incapable of distinguishing between the distant and more recent past. In the opening chapters of his Histories, Herodotos explains that many of his contemporaries attribute the origins of the hostility between Greece and the east to a series of episodes involving the capture of w ­ omen—­the Phoenician capture of the Argive princess Io, the Greek capture of Europa and Medea, and Paris’s elopement with Helen. But he then continues: “For my part, I am not g­ oing to say that t­ hese ­things happened in this way or that but ­will point out that man whom I know to have initiated unjust deeds against the Greeks” (1.5.3). The man turns out to be Kroisos, king of Lydia, who ruled in the sixth ­century BCE. ­Later, he writes: “Polykrates [the sixth-­century tyrant of Samos] is the first of the Greeks that we know to have given thought to dominating the sea—­apart from Minos of Knossos and anyone before him who ruled over the sea; but of what is called the ­human generation, Polykrates was the first” (3.122.2). In other words, while Herodotos does not necessarily cast doubt on the existence of figures such as Io or Minos, he excludes them from what he considers to be the “knowable”

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past, which turns out to commence around the m ­ iddle of the sixth c­ entury, approximately three generations before his own day.136 In a similar vein, Thucydides appears to accept the historicity of figures such as Minos (1.4.1) and episodes such as the Trojan War (1.9) but he largely confines himself to con­temporary events, arguing that, ­because of the passage of time, accounts of the past cannot be questioned and therefore enter into the realm of storytelling (1.21.1). Pausanias, on the other hand, never claims to be a historian.137 The apparent heterochrony of his account is determined by the fact that all ele­ments of the perceived past, ­whether more or less knowable, are entangled in the sites and sights that serve as repositories for the perpetuation of the cultural memories which lie at the heart of his proj­ect.138 At the same time, although he clearly bears the greatest responsibility for the se­lection of the sights and accounts that are presented, one cannot ignore the contributions of his local in­ for­mants. In the early twentieth ­century, an inscription came to light at Argos which carried a letter from Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa, the trusted lieutenant of Rome’s first emperor, Augustus. In it, Agrippa addresses the council of elders as “[the descendants] of Danaos and Hypermestra.” In other inscriptions of the period, the denizens of Argos are described as descendants of Perseus and Herakles.139 It is, then, evident that the Argives w ­ ere themselves complicit in the construction of a mythologizing patina that constituted a key ele­ment of their cultural identity. Roman Argos must have been a surreal place, a type of heterotopia, yet it was this repre­sen­ta­tion that was uppermost in the imagination of t­ hose early travelers who visited the town and who then had to square their prior conceptions with their eventual eyewitness perceptions of Argive space.

“A Town of Gods and Kings” As Mary Beard has aptly noted with regard to Athens, “when we mock the naiveté of ­those early scholars who tried to reconstruct the layout of Athens from what seems a crudely literal reading of Pausanias, we would do well to remember that it was their only option for re-­creating the ancient cityscape.”140 The Argos that travelers of the late eigh­teenth and early nineteenth centuries encountered—­and recreated—­was a heterotopia, generated by a series of cultural filters. The first was the travelers’ own upbringing and education in western Eu­rope, far removed from the Ottoman Empire. In the imagination of the adherents to a Western brand of Hellenism, Greece was neither entirely familiar nor entirely exotic, viewed si­mul­ta­neously as “the mythic ancestor of

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all Eu­ro­pean culture” but also as “polluted by the taint of Turkish culture.”141 Accustomed to view Greece allochronically, as a land untouched—­and uncorrupted—by modernity and still preserving the evolutionary relics of a primitive authenticity, it is only natu­ral that the travelers applied a consciousness of time that was entirely dif­fer­ent from that which they entertained in their native countries.142 The second filter was the travelers’ reliance on ancient authors, but especially Pausanias’s Description of Greece, which we have seen to pre­sent a heterotopic and heterochronic image of Argos in which myths, etiologies, and extracts from the accounts of historians coalesce around physical monuments and artifacts that evidently dated to dif­fer­ent periods but coexisted in the same space-­time continuum. In part, this repre­sen­ta­tion was the product of Pausanias’s own conception of the Greek past but it was also a refraction of what was displayed and pointed out to him by local antiquarians, which constitutes a third filter. Fi­nally, a fourth filter is imposed by the modern counter­parts to Pausanias’s local informants—­those who tried to persuade Dodwell that the Roman baths near the theater ­were a seraglio or a theater for dance and ­music, or who told Chateaubriand and Hughes that the structure was the palace of Agamemnon.143 Since local residents w ­ ere generally less well versed in the ancient sources with which the travelers w ­ ere familiar, the stories that grew up around t­ hese monuments w ­ ere largely the product of orally transmitted folk-­ tales that corresponded only in part—­and, at best, haphazardly—to snippets of information derived from ancient writers. They w ­ ere, in other words, more Romeic than Hellenic, more the “­here and now” than the “then and t­ here.” ­There w ­ ere, of course, exceptions. One was Dionysios Avramiotis, Chateaubriand’s host in Argos, who had studied in Padova and was one of the first members of the Eteria Ton Filomouson (Society of the lovers of the Muses), which was founded in Athens in 1813. Another was the priest Dionysios Pyrrhos, originally from Thessaly and educated in Livorno, Pavia, Milan, and Vienna, whose chapter on the Argolid in his Description of Greece and its Wars, Ancient and Modern, prob­ably published in 1829 or soon a­ fter, betrays a deep familiarity with Pausanias but also with Argos, where he established a paper mill at nearby Kefalari.144 The Western travelers did not entirely lack the capacity for critical engagement with the information at their disposal. As we have seen, Fourmont hypothesized that the subterranean chambers pointed out to him as including the prison of Danae ­were, in fact, quarries and Chandler posited a similar function for caverns near Tiryns that ­were claimed to be the chambers of the ­daughters of Proitos who, according to Pseudo-­Apollodoros (Library 2.2.2), ­were driven to a frenzy by ­either Dionysos or Hera.145 ­There ­were, however,

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two f­ actors that militated against a more critical approach to the accounts of the past. First, the discipline of archaeology was barely in its infancy. Such excavations as had taken place in the ancient world, notably at Herculaneum and Pompeii in the first half of the eigh­teenth ­century, ­were less concerned with unearthing the past for its own sake than they ­were with purloining objets d’art to adorn private collections. In Greece, this was the primary purpose b­ ehind the l­imited excavations, from 1801, of Lord Elgin on the Athenian Acropolis or of Veli Pasha in the theater of Argos in 1811.146 Indeed, Hughes complains that the Turks regularly assumed that the primary motive of travelers to Argos was pecuniary.147 Stratigraphy, or the analy­sis of chronologically successive layers of settlements, would not be practiced in Greece ­until at least the last quarter of the nineteenth ­century. This is not, of course, to suggest that the sole—or even primary—­purpose of archaeology is to illuminate written texts, although it does encourage a more critical approach to literary documents.148 Second, the distinction between myth and history that is common to modern scholarship had not yet been formulated in any precise way. It was not ­until 1846 that George Grote de­cided to commence his History of Greece with the supposed foundation of the Olympic Games in 776 BCE, on the grounds that the “legendary” period of Greek history, while conceivably containing a kernel of truth, was essentially “unknowable.”149 The skepticism of Karl Julius Beloch would have to wait a further half-­century. Even then, such skepticism was neither instantaneous nor pervasive. In the publication of his Sather Lectures, delivered at Berkeley in 1927, Sir John Myres had ­little compunction about dating Phoroneus to 1760 BCE, Proitos’s foundation of Tiryns to 1360– 1330, or Perseus to 1300.150 Even as late as 1955, Carl Blegen, the American excavator of Troy and Pylos, wrote to the British archaeologist Alan Wace, telling him that he was inclined to date “the destruction of the ‘Palace of Nestor’ around 1200 B.C., a generation or two ­after Nestor’s return from Troy.”151 It is, then, ­little won­der that Chandler could imagine Danaos living in his palace atop the Larisa hill or that Scrofani might entertain hopes of locating the h ­ ouses of Atreus and Thyestes.152 For the travelers of the late eigh­ teenth and early nineteenth centuries, Argos was the “very cradle of demigods and heroes,”153 or a town of gods and kings (“ville des dieux et des rois”).154

Ch a p ter  3

Devastation and Reconstruction

Argos did not escape lightly during the Greek Revolution. Through a lack of synchronization, the uprising in the Morea (Peloponnese) occurred a few weeks ­after Alexandros Ypsilantis had led a small army of 4,500 men across the River Pruth into Ottoman-­controlled Moldavia on February 21 / March 5, 1821.1 According to the national tradition, celebrated even t­ oday, the revolution broke out in Achaïa on April 6, 1821 (equating to March 25, or the Feast of the Annunciation, in the Julian Calendar), when Bishop Germanos of Patras raised the revolutionary standard at the monastery of Agia Lavra near Kalavryta.2 In real­ity, the first insurrectionist movements, marked by the assassinations of Ottoman officials, took place before the end of March.3 By the first week of April, the Muslims of Kalavryta, Vostitsa (ancient Aigion), and Kalamata had surrendered and Patras was in revolt; within a m ­ atter of weeks, most of the Morea was u ­ nder Greek control, with the exception of the better-­defended coastal fortresses.4

Argos in Revolt At Argos, the insurrection began when an involuntary Turkish gunshot rang out in the upper marketplace (the area of ­today’s Korinthou Street) at 3 p.m. on Wednesday March 23 / April 4. Panic-­stricken, the Turkish inhabitants of 63

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the town began evacuating their families to the relative safety of Nafplio. On March 27 / April 8, 150 armed Turkish cavalrymen marched from Nafplio to Argos, pillaging two ware­houses (including one belonging to the Perroukas ­family), and three days ­later a detachment of around 300 Turkish cavalrymen ventured out of Nafplio and encamped at the village of Dalamanara, three miles southeast of Argos. From ­there the Aga Hussein Yesirlis traveled on to Argos, where he met with five or six of the insurrectionists at Agios Vasilios and was told that the town was held by around 300 armed “bandits,” who had taken captive all the wealthiest property o ­ wners. ­After shots rang out, Yesirlis rejoined his troops, who then returned to Nafplio.5 According to the account of the war written by Fotios Chrysanthopoulos (Fotakos), the architect of the uprising at Argos was Stamatelos Antonopoulos, who had forced the former primates (leading landowners) Nikolaos Perroukas and Theodoros Vlassis to flee the town on a prob­ably baseless charge of treason. Following this, Antonopoulos, together with Nikolaos Spiliotopoulos and Athanasios Kaÿmenos (or Asimakopoulos), began organ­izing the siege of Nafplio.6 The Porte’s response was swift: Kourshid Pasha, who was besieging the renegade Albanian chieftain Ali Pasha at Ioannina, sent a force of Albanian cavalry to the Morea ­under the command of the Kihaya (Lieutenant-­Governor) Mustafa Bey. Landing at Patras, Mustafa proceeded to Corinth and, from ­there, to Nafplio via Argos.7 What followed is described in some detail by Thomas Gordon, a Scottish officer who volunteered his ser­vices to the in­de­pen­dence movement in its first year, as well as by Spyridon Trikoupis, a veteran of the war, ­f uture prime minister, and f­ ather of Charilaos Trikoupis, who would head seven governments in the last three de­cades of the nineteenth c­ entury. In an attempt to defend Argos, the Greeks stationed troops ­behind a flood wall, where the road from Corinth crosses the bed of the River Xirias, while the men and w ­ omen of the town thronged as spectators on the adjacent Aspis hill. Writing some seventy years ­later, Ioannis Kofiniotis grandiosely compared the spectacle to the Spartan king Kleomenes I’s invasion of Argos in the early fifth ­century BCE or Pyrrhos’s assault on the city in 272 BCE.8 The Turks advanced in three columns, with the infantry in the center and the cavalry stationed on the two wings. The Greek defenders, who discharged their muskets before the Turkish troops ­were within range, w ­ ere soon encircled by the cavalry and around 700 ­were killed, including the son of Laskarina Boubouli (Bouboulina), the female sea captain from Spetses. Some 1,500 w ­ omen on the Aspis w ­ ere taken prisoner but many of the townsfolk sought refuge in the monastery of the Concealed Virgin, on the slopes of the Larisa. The Ottoman forces entered Argos on April 25 / May 7 and immediately lay siege with cannons to the monastery,



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whose occupants w ­ ere forced to capitulate a­ fter three days due to a shortage of ­water. Both Gordon and Trikoupis comment on the humanity that Mustafa showed to his prisoners—­a far cry from the atrocities that contravened the terms of surrender in many other cases during the early years of the war. On April 27 / May 9, 500 Greek troops ­under the command of Asimakis Skaltsas, Ilias Tsalafatinos, and Georgios Bilidas arrived at Argos, seizing the Larisa fortress at nightfall, while reinforcements u ­ nder Staïkos Staïkopoulos reached the town the following day. The Turks barricaded themselves inside private ­houses before setting fire to the town and departing, first for Nafplio and then Tripolitsa.9 In June 1821, Alexandros Ypsilantis’s b­ rother, Dimitrios, arrived on the island of Ydra from Trieste as archistratigos, or commander-­in-­chief, of the Greek army.10 The position was awarded to him as the presumed successor to his ­brother, who had been the president of the Filiki Eteria—­the secret society, founded in 1814 to prepare the ground for revolution. The insurrectionists ­were, however, already divided in their loyalties. On one side ­were the clergy and the wealthy primates of the Peloponnese, many of whom had prospered ­under Ottoman rule. On the other w ­ ere the military chieftains, of whom a large number had previously been ­either armatoli (local law enforcers for the Ottoman authorities), kleftes (bandits), or not infrequently both. Following the capture in October of Tripolitsa, the Ottoman capital of the Morea, and the massacre of its Muslim and Jewish population, plans ­were drawn up to hold a national assembly t­ here, but an outbreak of plague caused the proceedings to be transferred to Argos, where the younger Ypsilantis established his headquarters in November. Delegates began arriving in the town in December but the presence of so many armed bands accompanying the Peloponnesian primates raised security concerns, which w ­ ere exacerbated further by the assassination of the Ydriot captain Antonios Ikonomos.11 As a result, the convention was rescheduled for a quieter location at Piada (near ancient Epidauros). On hearing from an escaped prisoner that Argos was largely deserted, the Turks launched a surprise attack on the town on December 14 / 26, but ­were beaten back by a force of Greeks and foreign volunteers ­under the command of Nikitas Stamatelopoulos (­later nicknamed Nikitaras, the “Turk-­eater” [Tourkofagos]). In vengeance, the Argives put to death the prisoners who ­were detained in the town—­many of them survivors of the massacre at Tripolitsa. In early January 1822, what would come to be known as the First National Assembly fi­nally took place and a constitution was approved that was in many ways very enlightened—­among its provisions w ­ ere the abolition of slavery and judicial torture and a guarantee of religious liberty—­although it was rendered

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largely in­effec­tive due to the continued existence of a rival Peloponnesian Senate with its own constitution. An executive committee ­under the presidency of Alexandros Mavrokordatos was appointed for a one-­year term along with a legislative assembly; the presidency of the latter was offered to Ypsilantis, although he declined it on account of his ­bitter rivalry with Mavrokordatos.12 Despite a severe lack of coordination, the Greeks could count a number of successes during the first year of the war. In part, this was b­ ecause the Ottomans’ attention was directed t­ owards Ioannina, where Ali Pasha was in open revolt against the Sultan. But, with the defeat and murder of Ali in February 1822, Mahmud II was fi­nally able to turn to the reconquest of the Peloponnese. In the summer, an army of between 20,000 and 30,000, u ­ nder the command of the seraskier (commander-­in-­chief ) Mahmud Pasha Dramalis, advanced south from Thessaly, easily capturing Acrocorinth on July 5 / 17. Ignoring advice to base himself in Corinth, Dramalis de­cided to advance further southward to relieve the siege of Nafplio and, a­ fter dispatching a force of 500 cavalry t­ here, occupied Argos on July 12 / 24.13 Some attempt at re­sis­tance was made: “without cavalry, artillery, or much concert among themselves, the Greeks maintained their ground for several days in the ruined ­houses of Argos, or in the vineyards along the banks of the Inachus, where they protected themselves against the Turkish cavalry b­ ehind entrenchments and excavations.”14 Eventually, however, they w ­ ere beaten back by the Turkish artillery. George Finlay, who followed Lord Byron to Greece in 1823 in order to fight for the cause of Greek in­de­pen­dence, describes how panic ensued among the inhabitants of the town, especially among the refugees who had recently arrived from Smyrna, Kydonies, and Chios (the latter survivors of the horrific massacre of April 1822). As h ­ ouses ­were vacated by their residents, they w ­ ere ransacked by soldiers from the Mani peninsula of the southern Peloponnese. Members of the executive committee and the legislative assembly fled south to Myli (near ancient Lerna) to embark on ships. In abandoning the assembly’s archives, together with a large quantity of silver plate that had been collected from churches and monasteries to fund the war effort, they effectively left the conduct of affairs in the hands of the Peloponnesian Senate.15 Then, however, Dramalis’s situation deteriorated rapidly. Several hundred volunteers u ­ nder the command of Ypsilantis forced their way up into the Larisa ­castle, which, despite a shortage of provisions and w ­ ater, was defended long enough for the Greeks to regroup a force of more than 5,000 at Myli. ­Here, the presence of canals for irrigation and w ­ ater mills impeded the Turkish cavalry and offered favorable terrain for guerilla tactics. Theodoros Kolokotronis, recently appointed archistratigos of the Greek army by the Peloponnesian senate, soon amassed nearly 8,000 troops to block any attempt on Dramalis’s



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part to advance ­toward Tripolitsa. Furthermore, Dramalis had failed to secure his supply lines from Corinth and, since the Greeks had set fire to the crops in the Argive plain and poisoned the wells, the Turkish troops quickly succumbed to starvation and heat exhaustion. Several sources claim that their consumption of unripe grapes and melons also led to an outbreak of dysentery. On July 25 / August 6, 1822, ­after several days of skirmishes with Greek forces, Dramalis was forced to begin his retreat back to Corinth.16 In addition to neglecting to secure his supply lines, Dramalis had also failed to guard the narrow passes between the Argive plain and Corinthia. The hills on the western side of the defile near Agios Georgios (close to ancient Phlious and the sanctuary of Zeus at Nemea) ­were held by Kolokotronis’s men; the central Dervenaki pass and the eastern pass of Klisoura, near the village of Agionori, ­were guarded by a force of 2,000 ­under Nikitaras (who was the nephew of Kolokotronis’s wife), Grigorios Dikeos (also known as Papaflessas), and Ypsilantis. Dramalis dispatched an advance guard of 1,000 Muslim Albanians, who bypassed the defile in safety—­perhaps ­because their manner of dress caused them to be mistaken for fellow combatants or perhaps b­ ecause the insurgents w ­ ere reluctant to engage with veteran troops—­but a contingent of the Turkish cavalry was engaged and routed by Nikitaras near the village of Agios Vasilis. With the Dervenaki pass blocked, Dramalis attempted to march the remainder of his army through the Klisoura pass, where he was attacked by Papaflessas, and then by Nikitaras and Ypsilantis. Grossly exaggerated estimates at the time put the Turkish death toll as high as 30,000. In real­ ity, Dramalis prob­ably lost a ­little over 2,000 men, though Leake may have been right to regard the ­battle as an event “from which Greece may perhaps date her resurrection from slavery.”17 In the end, Dramalis managed to force his way through to Corinth with much of his light cavalry but he was compelled to leave b­ ehind his military chest, h ­ orses, pack animals, and camels, as well as all the army’s baggage.18

Dissent and Division With the withdrawal of Dramalis, the greater threat to the Greeks came now not from Turkish aggression but from internal factionalism and civil war. On November 30 / December 12, 1822, the Greeks fi­nally captured the Palamidi fortress at Nafplio, entering the town a month l­ater, but Kolokotronis’s son Genneos refused to surrender it to the provisional government.19 In an attempt to break the deadlock, a now overdue Second National Assembly was held in April at Astros, on the other side of the Gulf of Nafplio. A new executive committee was appointed, with Petrobey Mavromichalis of the Mani as

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its president, Mavrokordatos as its general secretary and—­a l­ittle l­ater and ­under some duress—­Kolokotronis as its vice-­president, and the provisional government transferred its seat to Tripolitsa.20 An open rift soon broke out, however, between Kolokotronis and Mavrokordatos—­especially when the latter was repeatedly offered the presidency of the legislative assembly. Mavrokordatos was dismissed from the executive committee and went to Ydra to confer with the wealthy shipowners ­there while both the executive committee and the legislative assembly decamped to the island of Koulouri (ancient Salamis).21 An additional cause of friction between the two factions concerned what to do with the so-­called national land, that is, land that had been abandoned by its former Ottoman occupants. The legislative assembly, dominated by some Peloponnesian primates and the sea captains of Ydra, was in ­favor of selling the land to raise revenue and serve as collateral for loans raised abroad. The executive committee, on the other hand, which tended ­toward the military chieftains of the Peloponnese, thought that the land should simply be redistributed.22 A firsthand account of the events of 1823 and 1824 is provided by the correspondence of Col­o­nel Leicester Stanhope, who arrived in Greece in November 1823 with supplies and a printing press from the London Greek Committee, a body constituted largely by Whig parliamentarians who w ­ ere well disposed ­toward the cause of Greek in­de­pen­dence. On September 25 / October 7, the executive committee moved to Nafplio, now ­under the command of another of Kolokotronis’s sons, Panos, but a deep mutual distrust between the older Kolokotronis and the members of the legislative assembly caused the former to resign his vice-­presidency of the executive and the latter to transfer its seat of government from Salamis to Argos on October 17 / 29.23 Next, the legislative assembly accused the executive of illegal directives, taken without a quorum when three of its five members (Kolokotronis, Mavromichalis, and the minister of justice, Andreas Metaxas) ­were absent from Nafplio. O ­ rders w ­ ere given for the immediate replacement of Metaxas by Ioannis Kolettis as well as for the dismissal of Charalambos Perroukas, the minister of finance, for having imposed without legislative approval a government mono­poly on the sale of salt.24 This prompted a decisive reaction from Kolokotronis, who sent Panos, along with Nikitaras, the local Argive captain Dimitrios Tsokris, and 200 men to—in Stanhope’s words—­“explain ­matters” to the legislative assembly at Argos. Bursting in on the legislature during an open session on November 26 / December 8, the soldiers seized the state archives—­ later recovered by the ser­vices of Nikitaras’s brother-­in-­law—­and physically assaulted some of the legislators. In fear of their lives, the members of the legislative assembly fled to Kranidi in the eastern Argolid, where they ap-



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pointed a new executive committee u ­ nder the presidency of Georgios Kountouriotis of Ydra.25 By early 1824, then, ­there w ­ ere two rival provisional governments in Greece. The ousted executive committee, which was dominated by Kolokotronis and other military captains, regrouped at Tripolitsa in March and appointed Ypsilantis as its new president. The newly constituted executive committee ­under Kountouriotis was supported primarily by the Peloponnesian primates and the nautical islands (Ydra, Spetses, and Psara), as well as by the Roumeliots of central Greece. On March 6 / 18, the members of the new executive landed at Myli while the legislative assembly returned to Argos around the ­middle of April. Since Panos Kolokotronis refused to surrender Nafplio to the new executive, he was declared an ­enemy of state and the town was placed ­under siege—­a situation that led to minor skirmishes in May, when 300 troops ­under the command of Dimitrios Koliopoulos (also known as Plapoutas), Nikitaras, and Genneos Kolokotronis attempted to come to the aid of the besieged. In the course of this relief effort, Koliopoulos and Nikitaras intended to surprise the legislative assembly on May 12 / 24, attacking Argos from the north via the Deiras ridge, but ­were defeated and routed by troops ­under the command of Panoutsos Notaras and Ioannis Makriyiannis. A national meeting at Salona (ancient Amphissa) on April 9 / 21, 1824, had already affirmed the legitimacy of the legislative assembly at Argos. Following a series of defeats and the news that the new government had secured a substantial loan from the London Greek Committee, Tripolitsa was abandoned by Kolokotronis’s forces in mid-­April and Nafplio was surrendered to the new provisional government at the beginning of June. On June 10 / 22, the legislative assembly transferred its seat from Argos to Nafplio, followed two days ­later by the return of the executive committee.26

The Campaign of Ibrahim Pasha and the Ascendancy of Kapodistrias While the Greeks ­were engaged in this factional fighting, Sultan Mahmud II entered into an alliance with his power­f ul vassal Mehmet Ali, the ruler of Egypt, who had built up an effective and modern army, trained by French and Italian veterans of the Napoleonic wars. In return for his assistance, Mehmet Ali was promised dominion over the island of Crete while his son, Ibrahim Pasha, was to be rewarded with the governorship of the Morea. Ibrahim sailed from Alexandria on July 7 / 19, 1824. Re­sis­tance from the Greek fleet in the eastern Aegean in September forced him to take shelter and refit his ships in Souda Bay on Crete before setting sail for the Peloponnese and landing at

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Modon (ancient Methone) in Messinia on February 12 / 24, 1825. Following the arrival of reinforcements, which brought the Egyptian army to about 10,000 infantry, 1,000 cavalry, and a corps of field artillery, Navarino (ancient Pylos) fell to the invaders in May, followed by Kalamata and Tripolitsa in June.27 Ibrahim intended to advance on Nafplio but, on June 12 / 24, his path was blocked at Myli by a force of a few hundred men ­under the command of Konstantinos Mavromichalis (the b­ rother of Petrobey) and Makriyiannis, shortly joined by Ypsilantis and several foreign volunteers. It was essential for the Greeks to hold Myli since it was where supplies for Nafplio ­were being stored. Fortunately, the marshy terrain in the area proved an impediment to the Egyptian cavalry and when, on June 13 / 25, some of Ibrahim’s foot soldiers attempted to force their way through a gap in a stone enclosure, they w ­ ere cut down by Makriyiannis and a detachment of fifteen men. T ­ oward sunset, Ibrahim advanced on an already evacuated Argos, which his troops burned to the ground the following day along with the surrounding villages. He then retreated t­ oward Tripolitsa—­ perhaps due to the arrival in the Gulf of Nafplio of the frigate HMS Cambrian ­under the command of Captain William Rowan Hamilton.28 On March 2 / 14, 1827, nineteen self-­proclaimed “patriots” wrote to the commissioners for the eparchy of Argos to protest Tsokris’s ­orders to repair and resupply the Larisa c­ astle. Arguing that t­ here ­were insufficient resources to resupply a c­ astle that would, in any case, be unable to withstand an assault by the ­enemy, the signatories adduced the examples of Tripolitsa, Corinth, and Mystra to claim that the very existence of a usable fortress was more likely to attract the attention of the ­enemy, w ­ hether foreign or Greek. The security of Argive residents would, then, be better guaranteed by demolishing the c­ astle.29 Tsokris responded on 14/26 April, railing against “imaginary suspicions, monstrous thoughts, and petty and slavish superstitions.” He maintained that the reprovisioning of the ­castle for just a few days was essential to allow the area’s residents to bring in the harvest, but he also warned them that if they continued to insist on demolishing the fortifications, they would need to shoulder the costs, as well as compensating Tsokris for the money he had already invested in the repair of the ­castle.30 The Ottoman recapture of Mesolongi on April 11 / 23, 1826, and the capitulation of the Greek garrison on the Athenian Acropolis on May 24 / June 5, 1827, delivered most of central Greece, north of the Corinthian isthmus, to the Turks. As a consequence, large numbers of displaced Roumeliots fled to the Peloponnese, including Nafplio, where the men of Christos Fotomaras and Giannakis Stratos seized the lower citadel of Its Kale (Akronauplia), while ­those of Theodorakis Grivas occupied the higher Palamidi fortress. By July, the hostility between ­these rival chieftains led to nine days of bombardment



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and exchanges of artillery fire between the two hilltops but also t­oward the lower town, where a cannonball killed a councilor during a session of the legislative assembly, forcing the provisional government to seek refuge on the offshore island of Bourtzi. Numerous accusations of atrocities w ­ ere leveled against both sides, leading to the imprisonment and torture of Dimitrios Tsokris’s ­brother Georgios by Grivas’s men. Fictitious rumors of an oath, sworn by the locals, to slaughter Roumeliots prompted the latter to converge on Argos in order to pillage the town and exact revenge against its inhabitants, although major bloodshed was averted through the intervention of Dalianis Chatzimichalis. By early October, Grivas wrote to the residents of Argos and Nafplio, claiming that he had now allied himself with Tsokris “for your benefit and prosperity.”31 Nevertheless, Nafplio was still in a state of anarchy on January 8 / 20, 1828, when Count Ioannis Kapodistrias, the newly appointed governor of Greece, disembarked ­there.32 Kapodistrias had been elected—­though not without controversy—to a seven-­year term of office at the Third National Assembly, convened at Damala (ancient Troizen) in April of the previous year.33 Born on Corfu (Kerkyra) and with a medical degree from Padua, he had never been a subject of the Ottoman Empire, had not participated in the Revolutionary War, and had actually twice refused to lead the Filiki Eteria before the outbreak of the war. He had, however, served as a foreign minister to Tsar Alexander I and that experience, along with the (unrealized) hope that he might secure Rus­sian assistance, made him a popu­lar choice for the premiership. In early 1828, Athens was still occupied by the Turks and large parts of the Peloponnese remained in the hands of Ibrahim Pasha, even if his position had been severely weakened following the annihilation of the Turkish-­Egyptian fleet by the navies of Britain, France, and Rus­sia in the Bay of Navarino on October 8 / 20, 1827.34 Kapodistrias had a forward-­ looking vision for the country to whose presidency he had been elected, especially in terms of building an infrastructure, though he had considerably less success at persuading the vari­ous parties to share in that vision. He did, at least, command popu­lar support in the Peloponnese—­especially a­ fter accepting a French offer to dispatch an army to expel Ibrahim from the Morea. ­Under the command of Lieutenant-­General Nicolas Maison, 14,000 foot soldiers and 1,500 cavalrymen landed at Petalidi in Messinia on August 17 / 29, 1828, and Ibrahim was forced to sign a treaty of capitulation on August 26 / September 7; by October, the remaining strongholds of Navarino, Modon, Coron (ancient Korone), and Rio (Rhion) had been recovered.35 The French forces ­were soon to be accompanied by members of a scientific expedition, modeled on Napoleon’s mission to Egypt, which operated in the Peloponnese from March ­until December 1829.36

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The standard charges that Kapodistrias’s opponents leveled against him ­ ere that he was arbitrary and authoritarian. In an attempt to stave off constiw tutional opposition, a Fourth National Assembly was convoked at Argos, which Kapodistrias opened, dressed in a Rus­sian military uniform, on July  11 / 23, 1829. Ordinary citizens had been forbidden from entering the town with the excuse that ­there was not sufficient accommodation for them. The representatives initially gathered at the cemetery church of the Dormition of the Virgin before transferring to the Hellenistic theater, where a wooden pavilion had been constructed in the orchestra for the occasion. The opening session was witnessed by members of the architectural section of the French Scientific Expedition to the Morea, which had arrived in Argos a week ­earlier. Among the speakers ­were Nikitaras, Kolokotronis, Mavromichalis, and Grivas, but the upshot was that Kapodistrias was given additional powers and the ability to appoint his own nominees to a newly constituted senate.37 Kapodistrias’s downfall, however, was the feud that he contracted with the Mavromichalis clan of Mani—­especially ­after the arrest, in January 1831, of Petrobey Mavromichalis. Although Mavromichalis’s son Georgios and his ­brother Konstantinos w ­ ere also arrested, they ­were permitted ­free movement within the city walls of Nafplio. On the morning of September 27 / October 9, the two assassinated Kapodistrias as he was about to enter the church of St. Spyridon for morning mass; Konstantinos was killed on the spot while Georgios was arrested and executed less than two weeks ­later.38

Renewed Strife and the Market Square Massacre The assassination of Kapodistrias again plunged Greece into civil war between members of the Kapodistrian party in Nafplio, who enjoyed broad support in the Morea and had the backing of the Rus­sian fleet, and the “constitutionalists,” who w ­ ere based on Ydra but largely supported by the Roumeliots of central Greece. On December  5 / 17, 1831, 150 deputies of the Kapodistrian party again met at the church of the Dormition of the Virgin in Argos before proceeding to a meeting (the Fifth National Assembly) in the newly constructed school­house (see below), where the assassinated governor’s younger ­brother, Agostino, was elected to fill his place. Fierce fighting between Kapodistrians and constitutionalists in the streets of Argos took place over a few days: Makriyiannis describes how Agostino’s forces managed to capture half of the town, from the bazaar up to the Larisa c­ astle, while he himself held the rest of the urban area. Some 360 residents lost their lives before the constitutionalists ­were forced to withdraw to Corinth, where they held an assembly and elected Pan-



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outsos Notaras as their president. Their absence allowed Kapodistrias’s men to destroy and plunder ­houses and shops in the town with impunity.39 By January 1832, it had become known that the ­Great Powers had selected Otto of Wittelsbach, the seventeen-­year-­old second son of Ludwig I of Bavaria, to be the king of Greece. It now became imperative for the Roumeliots, encamped at Perachora near the Corinthian isthmus, to seek to overthrow the government of Agostino Kapodistrias in order to have a greater claim to offices and honors upon the arrival of the new king. Supported by Kolettis, Kountouriotis, Mavromichalis, Mavrokordatos, and the Ydriot admiral Andreas Miaoulis, the Roumeliots routed government forces, ­under the command of Kolokotronis, at the Corinthian isthmus on March 25 / April 6 and marched on Argos, forcing the resignation of Agostino, who left for Corfu with the remains of his b­ rother. Nevertheless, anarchy continued with bands of discharged soldiers plundering farms and villages throughout the Peloponnese for their subsistence. On May 7 / 19, French troops u ­ nder General Corbet accepted an invitation to assist the constitutionalists by marching into Nafplio. On June 12 / 24, Genneos Kolokotronis wrote to the villa­gers of the eparchy of Argos, decrying “the terrible ­things that you have suffered and are suffering from the partisans of lawlessness and vio­lence,” but also informing them that his f­ather had decreed that all the Peloponnesians should take up arms against t­ hose who ­were destroying the fatherland.40 Among t­ hose who answered Kolokotronis’s call was Dimitrios Tsokris. In a letter dated July 11 / 23, 1832, just two days a­ fter Sultan Mahmud II officially recognized Greece’s in­ de­pen­dent status u ­ nder the terms of the Treaty of Constantinople, the secretary for the army denounced Tsokris’s lawlessness to the dimogerontes (town elders) and residents of the villages of the Argolid and Corinthia and ordered them to resist his attempts to recruit troops to Kolokotronis’s cause.41 A similar warning, backed by threats, was issued on the same day by the Roumeliot captain Nikolaos Kriezotis, who boasts that the “thief Kallergis” (the Cretan captain Dimitrios Kallergis, who was stationed in Argos at the head of a small cavalry unit) “has met with his just deserts.”42 In another letter, also dated July 11 / 23, Kriezotis writes to Giannakis Dagren, telling him that if he does not come to meet him, he w ­ ill have to assume that he is in league with Tsokris, “the antipatriot and partisan of the arch-­thief Kolokotronis.”43 Amid this anarchy, the controversial decision was taken to inaugurate, on July 14 / 26, a national assembly at Pronia, a suburb of Nafplio. A general amnesty was proclaimed and Otto’s appointment was ratified, but the abolition of the largely Kapodistrian senate was more controversial and, on August 14 / 26, the proceedings ­were violently broken up by Kriezotis’s soldiers, demanding the payment of

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arrears. Nafplio remained ­under the rule of a triumvirate consisting of Kolettis, Metaxas, and Andreas Zaïmis while the dissidents retreated to Astros, where Kolokotronis was appointed head of a military commission, intended as an alternative government.44 By the start of 1833, Tsokris and Kriezotis had largely buried their differences. The fear that they ­were mobilizing in ­favor of Kolokotronis prompted the executive government in Nafplio to request the intervention of French troops. On January 1 / 13, a letter, addressed by “the citizens” of Argos to the representatives of Britain, France, and Rus­sia, protested against the imminent arrival of the French soldiers, warning of the “unfortunate consequences that ­will result ­because of this invasion.”45 Nevertheless, four companies of infantry and an artillery corps left Messinia for Argos, where, on January 3 / 15, they met two further companies, dispatched by General Corbet from Nafplio, to secure the cavalry barracks that Kapodistrias had recently commissioned to be built in the market square. J.-­L. Lacour, a quarter-­master in the French army, describes how Col­o­nel Stoffel, the commander of the detachment, de­cided to requisition as his headquarters the nearby h ­ ouse of Kallergis, who was not in Argos at the time but had apparently offered the hospitality of his home. Despite the protests of Kallergis’s wife, Sofia, and the violent threats of a young artillery lieutenant named Nikolaos Kallisgouros, a detachment of French troops entered the ­house, disarmed a number of irregulars, and raised the French flag. Kallisgouros was arrested, taken to the barracks, and executed by firing squad the following day.46 On January 4 / 16, Lacour was in Nafplio, where, at around 11 a.m., he heard the sound of a cannon and gunfire coming from Argos. On his return, he discovered that three French soldiers had been killed and twenty-­one injured in an uprising, while the dead and wounded on the Greek side w ­ ere at least 300.47 A more vivid—­but equally apol­o­getic—­account of the incident is provided by the French officer Jean Pierre Pellion. At around 11 a.m. on January 4 / 16, some French soldiers w ­ ere securing provisions in the market square when they ­were surrounded by crowds of Greek irregulars, who began assaulting them with stones, daggers, and firearms, causing some casualties. The French troops in the nearby barracks quickly mobilized, dispersed the crowds with grape-­ shot, and then went door to door, clearing each ­house of the Greek irregulars who ­were firing on the streets from upper-­story win­dows. Within less than three hours, the town had been secured, and the irregulars, failing to capture the Larisa c­ astle, fled to the surrounding countryside. Pellion’s casualty figures are rather dif­fer­ent from Lacour’s: twenty dead and twenty wounded on the French side and about 160 Greeks killed. Pellion adds that Tsokris escaped by hiding u ­ nder a pile of straw, while Kriezotis was captured but released shortly afterward.48



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The Greek point of view is transmitted by the ­lawyer, journalist, and local historian Dimitrios Vardouniotis in an article published in the periodical Parnassos for 1891 but apparently based on interviews with eyewitnesses and an official report prepared by a deputy named Karatzas. According to Vardouniotis, it was the seizure of Kallergis’s h ­ ouse, the insult to his wife, and the arrest of Kallisgouros that constituted the trigger for the uprising, although t­ here had already existed local resentment against what was regarded as a foreign occupying force. In this account, Tsokris and Kriezotis attempted to negotiate with Stoffel, but to no avail. The vio­lence erupted ­after a drunken Roumeliot assaulted a single French soldier. Immediately ­after, French troops flooded the streets, shooting and stabbing with bayonets anybody they met, including old men, ­women, and ­children. Within four hours, more than 250 of the town’s residents, most of them civilians, lay dead. For Vardouniotis, the hero of the story is Anthimos, the former bishop of Ilioupolis, who went to the barracks amid the shooting and pleaded the innocence of the civilian population to the garrison commander, who then ordered a ceasefire.49 Makriyiannis, who was favorably disposed ­toward the French and the Kolettis administration, says ­little about the incident, simply characterizing the slaughter of around 300 men, ­women, and c­ hildren as “an act of re­sis­tance,” for which he felt obliged to issue an official apology to the French authorities.50 Similarly, Kolokotronis claims ignorance of what exactly occurred in Argos, beyond stating that French troops ­were set upon by Tsokris and Kriezotis and that 200 innocent lives ­were lost, but—­perhaps tellingly—he also protests that he was not implicated personally in the uprising.51 The massacre at Argos constitutes one of the last, sad events of the Revolutionary War and its bloody aftermath.52 On January 25 / February 6, 1833, King Otto disembarked near Tiryntha (ancient Tiryns), from where he proceeded to Nafplio with a Bavarian force of about 3,000 infantry, cavalry, artillery, and engineers; shortly a­ fter, the French troops departed from the Peloponnese. The arrival of the young monarch would not erase all the deep divisions that had arisen over the course of the previous de­cade but it did, at least, provide some greater stability in the short term.

Argos in Ruins Over the course of the war, Argos was torched by e­ nemy forces on three occasions: (1) in May 1821 by Mustafa Bey; (2) in July 1822 by Mahmud Dramalis; and (3) in June 1825 by Ibrahim Pasha. ­There is, then, considerable irony in an anecdote relayed in the memoirs of Philippe Jourdain, a French naval

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captain who served as a col­o­nel in the Greek revolutionary army and who visited Argos in April  1822. Drawing on his military experience, Jourdain explained to the local primates how they might strengthen their fortifications against ­f uture attacks, only to be told that it would be a waste of money and effort since the Turks would never come back to Argos.53 Shortly ­after the devastation that Dramalis inflicted the same summer, an artillery officer named Louis de Bollmann described briefly the ruinous state of the town, whose ­houses w ­ ere occupied by irregulars from the Mani.54 Indeed, when Lester Stanhope visited the town, almost two years l­ater, it still lay in ruins,55 and in a letter to the executive, dated February 12 / 24, 1825, Panoutsos Notaras, the president of the legislative assembly, noted that the residents of Argos ­were seeking relief from the damages that resulted from the soldiers that w ­ ere billeted on the town.56 Further destruction occurred during the civil wars of 1827 and 1831–1832. Pellion, describing events of 1832, says that the town had been abandoned, its residents seeking refuge in Nafplio, while soldiers w ­ ere strip57 ping the h ­ ouses of timbers to use as fuel. In the surrounding countryside, the plain, which before the war had been planted with olive trees and some vines and mulberry trees, was largely desolate by 1828.58 Captain Thomas Abercrombie Trant of the 28th  (North Gloucestershire) Regiment of Foot, visited Argos in 1830. His description of the town is echoed by many con­temporary visitors and speaks to what Kardarakou has described as the “paratexts” of the urban fabric: “Argos appeared to be a large straggling village, interspersed with ruins of Turkish Pyrgi, Christian churches, Turkish mosques, and masses of Roman brickwork; but however uninviting the first coup d’oeil may have been, it was not in the least improved upon a closer examination.”59 The expanse of the town was largely due to the wide, unpaved streets and the many walled gardens, whose lemon trees left a heavy scent in the air.60 The ­houses, for the most part single-­story, ­were s­ imple constructions of mudbrick, sometimes reinforced with wooden trusses, and with thatched roofs.61 Some w ­ ere painted white, though the residences decorated in “gay colours” that Peter Edmund Laurent had described before the war are no longer mentioned.62 Jean Giraudeau de Saint-­Gervais, a noted French physician, dismissively compared the town to a seasonal fair or a refugee camp.63 Estimates for the urban population vary from 2,000 to 4,000, though an influx of refugees ­after the war seems to have raised the figure to around 6,000 by the end of the 1830s.64 Blouet, the director of the architectural section of the French Scientific Expedition to the Morea, was surprised by the unusual air of cleanliness (propreté) he encountered in the town—­and this, despite the fact that all but one of his team ­were struck down by an outbreak of typhus!65 Indeed, hundreds of



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residents had died of plague in the spring of 1828 and the town was placed ­under quarantine u ­ ntil July.66 The French historian Joseph Poujoulat—­who visited Argos in June  1830 while his colleague, Joseph Michaud, was surveying Tiryns—­paints a less salubrious picture of billiard rooms packed with Greeks, Italians, and Rus­sians; tiny, stench-­ridden taverns, ­women and ­children dressed in rags, and beggars and invalids sleeping on the streets.67 During his visit to Argos in May 1833, Giraudeau de Saint-­Gervais noted the construction of new buildings throughout the town.68 Four public buildings belong to the Kapodistrian era. The first ­were the barracks. The site had formerly been occupied by the Turkish Bezesteni (covered market), which included a post office and an inn. It is likely that the complex was destroyed in the early years of the Revolutionary War since, in 1825, t­ here was a proposal—­ ultimately unrealized—to build on the site what would have been the first Greek university, financed by Ioannis Varvakis. As we have seen, the structure was then commandeered by the French occupying force in 1833—­the same year in which Giraudeau claims to have been an eyewitness to a fire that damaged the building.69 The second building, constructed in 1830, ­housed the law courts and the town council (dimogerontia); in 1889, it was converted into the town hall (dimarchio)—­a function that it continued to serve ­until very recently (figure 9).70 The third Kapodistrian foundation was the Mutual School, which was inaugurated in June 1831 (figure 10).71 Within just a few months, however, funds had run out and, in the course of the civil war between the Kapodistrians and the constitutionalists, the school building had already become derelict. By the end of 1834, the building was being used by the military while lessons ­were held in the law courts building and in 1844, according to the Nafpliot newspaper Argos, the school­house was serving as a barn—­prob­ably for the cavalry.72 Fi­nally, work on the church of St. John the Baptist (Timios Prodromos), on the western side of the town beneath the Larisa hill, commenced in 1822. The church, which stood on the site of a Byzantine pre­de­ces­sor, was inaugurated by Kapodistrias on August 29 / September 10, 1829 and would serve as the town’s cathedral ­until the completion of St. Peter’s in 1865.73 It is pos­si­ble that another church briefly entered into ser­vice during the Revolutionary War. According to Ioannis Zenginis, the former southeastern mosque was, ­after the war, used by Tsokris as his personal sheep-­pen and was converted into the church of St. Constantine only in 1871.74 But the second town plan of Argos, drawn up by De Vaud in 1829 (see below), marks the mosque as the church of St. Constantine and, on his visit to the town the same year, Dionysios Pyrrhos notes that the mosque had been dedicated to Saints Constantine and Helen. On the 1831 town plan of Borroczyn, by contrast, the

Figure 9. The dimarchio, formerly the Kapodistrian tribunal.

Figure 10.  The Kapodistrian Mutual School, now the First High School of Argos.



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building is marked as a hospital—­a function it may have assumed a­ fter the outbreak of plague in the spring of 1828. The date 1871, then, may be when the church was reconsecrated to St. Constantine.75 Most of the private ­houses in Argos ­were small and unprepossessing. According to Lacour, the only habitable residence was that of Dimitrios Kallergis, now part of the Archaeological Museum (figure 11).76 Built in 1830, this imposing two-­story ­house (originally with a belvedere), situated just east of the Kapodistrian barracks, occupied the western corner of a small orchard, surrounded by out­houses, stables, and a chapel of St. Dimitrios. Kapodistrias was a frequent guest and Kallergis actually signed his ­house over to the government with the hope of securing in exchange some national land on which he would ­settle Cretan refugees. With the civil war between Kapodistrians and constitutionalists, however, the property again entered into the owner­ship of the Kallergis f­ amily.77 Trant was only marginally less dismissive than Lacour, claiming that just three “mansions” w ­ ere habitable: that of the “governor,” that of General Thomas Gordon (figure 12), and that of Edward Dawkins, the “resident” who represented British interests in Greece.78 Four years l­ater, another British army officer, Sir Grenville T ­ emple, noted the existence of “five or six” 79 more distinguished ­houses. ­These almost certainly included the residence of

Figure 11.  The ­house of Dimitrios Kallergis.

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Figure 12.  The ­house of Thomas Gordon.

Dimitrios Tsokris, built in 1827 (figure 13), and that of his b­ rother, Georgios, built the following year, as well as perhaps the h ­ ouse of the historian and states80 man Spyridon Trikoupis, built in 1830. Indeed, many prominent protagonists of the War of In­de­pen­dence made their homes in Argos. Makriyiannis also built a ­house in the town in 1829, ­after Kapodistrias appointed him commander of the Peloponnesian National Guard, and it was t­ here that he began to write his famous Memoirs.81 Part of the reason for choosing Argos was evidently the proximity of Nafplio, which became the capital of liberated Greece in October 1829. In a letter of July 18 / 30, 1830, to Nikolaos Mavrommatis, the deputy (topotiritis) of Argos, Kapodistrias wrote that Argos was being occupied by a g­ reat number of citizens, “solely for the purpose of being near the seat of government,” and that many of them w ­ ere distinguished for their “factional spirit,” against which the superintendent needed to be on his guard.82 But, as Davesiès de Pontès pointed out, the growth of Nafplio was somewhat constrained by the limits of the narrow peninsula on which it was situated. ­Until the philhellenic sentiments of the Bavarian monarchy forced the choice of Athens as a capital city in 1834, Argos surely harbored some equivalent aspirations.83



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Figure 13.  The ­house of Dimitrios Tsokris.

The Quest for Antiquities Visitors in search of antiquities frequently comment on inscriptions and sculpture built into more recent buildings. Jourdain, for example, describes a small sculpted relief and a fragment of mosaic floor that he saw built into a small Greek church—­prob­ably the Dormition of the Virgin—­but also notes that incorporated within the walls of the verger’s ­house w ­ ere the colossal torso of a warrior, a small, well-­preserved repre­sen­ta­tion of Herakles, and an inscription. Several more inscriptions ­were to be found built into the masonry of other churches throughout the town.84 Much as their pre­de­ces­sors had done, the

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travelers of the 1820s and 1830s bemoaned the obscurity into which the once-­ famous city had fallen. “The town of Diomedes,” wrote the naval officer Lucien Davesiès de Pontès, “is no more than a large village; the 26 ­temples which used to adorn it have left no traces.”85 Poujoulat expressed similar sentiments, though with less sang froid: “I fell asleep dreaming of the glory of Agamemnon, full of the memories of Homer and Pausanias, and I soon woke up in the midst of insects, poverty, and misery.”86 Once again, the real­ity of the urban habitat failed to live up to prior conceptions. T ­ here is some disagreement as to w ­ hether the war had contributed to the destruction of ancient monuments: William Mure, a Scottish scholar and politician who passed through Argos in 1838, thought not, but Murray’s 1840 Handbook for Travellers—­the forerunner to the l­ater Blue Guides—­took a dif­fer­ent view.87 It does at least seem to be the case that a section of wall on the south side of Baths A had dis­appeared between 1802 and 1829.88 ­There is one tradition—­perhaps epichoric in origin—­that is preserved in the report of the French Scientific Expedition, according to which “some authors” placed the sanctuary of Aphrodite Nikephoros beneath the southeastern mosque, ­later converted into the church of St. Constantine.89 In real­ity, however, no ancient author or inscription attests a sanctuary of Aphrodite Nikephoros at Argos. Pausanias (2.19.6) describes a statue of the deity, but this is in the sanctuary of Apollo Lykeios, some distance to the west of the southeastern mosque. In fact, the ancient remains documented in this period—as well as the interpretations attributed to them—­are largely the same as ­those recorded by visitors before the war.90 ­Whether this is due to familiarity with ­those ­earlier works on the part of this ­later cohort of authors or to the perpetuation of folk memories by local guides is not always easy to determine. In­ter­est­ing in this re­spect are the comments of the British physician William Black, who visited Argos in 1826. The local guide, whom Black enlisted b­ ecause he was able to speak Italian, pointed out the remains of Baths A as a t­ emple of Juno/Hera but Black notes that “it is said to be of Venus by ­others (vide Clarke).”91 The same structure was pointed out to Poujoulat—as it had been to Chateaubriand, Hughes, and Turner before him—as the ruins of the palace of Agamemnon, and this is presumably also information derived from local guides.92 By contrast, the assertion in Murray’s Handbook that the ­temple of Aphrodite stood on the spot of the chapel of St. George, above the theater, almost certainly derives from the writings of Clarke and/or Gell.93 Similarly, Jourdain’s and Blouet’s supposition that the sanctuary of Hera Akraia lay beneath the monastery of the Concealed Virgin may go back to Dodwell,94 while Poujoulat’s location of the oracle of Apollo Deiradiotis in the cave near the monastery had already been anticipated by Clarke and Gell.95 But ­either—or both—­explanations might be operative in the case of the Hadrianic nympha-



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eum. Jourdain, T ­ emple, and Murray’s Handbook all claim that the subterranean passage at the back of the structure—­actually an aqueduct supplying the fountain—­was a “secret contrivance of the priests,” by which oracular utterances ­were issued. The suggestion had already been made by both Clarke and Leake, but it is just the sort of sensationalist explanation that might have been seized upon eagerly by local guides.96 Indeed, ­there continues to be something of an obsession with subterranean passages in the travel lit­er­a­ture that can only r­ eally be adequately explained if it was a topos of epichoric interest. In their descriptions of other locales, for example, Western travelers do not focus on such under­ground passages to anything like the similar degree. A case in point is the cave near the monastery of the Concealed Virgin. According to Jourdain, it served as a shelter for shepherds and their flocks, but the locals claimed that the cave connected with a series of passages that transected the Larisa and exited on the opposite, western flank of the hill. ­There are ele­ments in this ­imagined landscape that are reminiscent of the tunnels described by Fourmont, even if he placed the entrance elsewhere, and it may be that Fourmont’s account was both inspired by—­and helped to perpetuate—­local landscape lore. In any case, the skeptical Jourdain explored the cave, which he discovered to be large but with no egress—­yet another example of the outsider pitting his rational expertise against local superstition.97 As we have seen, Leake claimed to have found subterranean passages on the Deiras, which he associated with Pausanias’s account of the prison of Danae, although Dodwell connected this par­tic­u­lar legend to under­ground tunnels that he explored in the vicinity of the theater.98 It is t­ hese latter passages—­undoubtedly the cryptoportico system of Baths A—­ that seem to be described by Jourdain in 1822, Pyrrhos around 1829, Trant in 1830, the American pastor Enoch Cobb Wines in 1831, Giraudeau de Saint-­ Gervais in 1833, and both T ­ emple and the Austrian travel writer Emanuel von Friedrichstal in 1834.99 Yet, even though graffiti, carved on the walls of the cryptoportico, make it certain that the passages ­were being visited in the 1820s and early 1830s, Blouet and his team ­were apparently unable to locate them in 1829.100 Since we now know that it was a tekke, or Muslim shrine, that Dodwell entered to descend into the tunnels, it is pos­si­ble that access was temporarily blocked when the tekke was demolished early on in the war.101

Diverging Perceptions The theater continued to be the most distinctive ancient monument of the town. Although t­ here is not a scrap of evidence to support it, Giraudeau de

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Saint-­Gervais is just one of several authors to claim that the ancient Argives used to congregate ­there to watch per­for­mances of Sophokles’s tragedies.102 As noted above, members of the French Scientific Expedition arrived in Argos about a week before the opening of the Fourth National Assembly in July 1829. A plan of the theater, engraved for the team by Amable Ravoisié, shows an apsidal assembly hall or pavilion, oriented east-­west and constructed in the orchestra of the theater—­its sides open so that spectators, seated on the lower tiers of the theater, could see and hear the deliberations.103 An in­ter­est­ ing anecdote about the planning of the event is preserved in Kolokotronis’s memoirs. Kolokotronis tells how Kapodistrias was lodging at Argos in the ­house of Dimitrios Tsokris. Edmonds’s translation of the Apomnemoneumata continues: We ­were one day together, and the inhabitants showed us a garden, wherein it was proposed that the assembly should be held. It was in the beginning of July, and they had been making a good many fires ­there, and so I gave it as my opinion that the assembly ­ought not to take place in the garden, but that we should build a theater near Panagia [the church of the Dormition of the Virgin] for the purpose. “That means expense,” [Kapodistrias] answered. “Let the expense be made,” I replied; “they who come h ­ ere from Eu­rope to look at t­ hose stones can defray the expense: it ­will be an honour for us to clean up ­those stones and show them, in order to have our assembly.” Upon this he sent for wood and other materials and erected a magnificent place for the meeting . . . ​104 Now, in fact, this translation is misleading when it implies that Kolokotronis proposed building a theater near the church of the Dormition. What Kolokotronis actually wrote was “να διορίσωμε τὸ θέατρο,” which means “let us designate the theater.”105 His point is that the costs of cleaning and refurbishing “the stones” of the Hellenistic theater ­will be defrayed by ­those foreign visitors who are accustomed to visit the antiquities of the town.106 At the same time, however, Kolokotronis seems to imply that it would be a m ­ atter of local, even national, pride—as he says, “an honor” (καὶ ἐμᾶς εἶναι τιμἠ)—­for the assembly to be held in a place so celebrated for its antiquity. In other words, the theater was imbued with an air of historical significance that a ­simple garden lacked. More than that, however, Kolokotronis has, to use the terminology of Michael Herzfeld, transformed the notion of cultural heritage—at least in how the theater was perceived by Western outsiders—­into a more immediate concern with filial inheritance: “the residents recast the very idea of a national heritage as that of a dowry—­a common trust whose beneficiaries should at least be able to make real use of it.”107 The fact is that the theater meant something



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very dif­fer­ent to the travelers than it did to locals. As Stathis Gourgouris points out, “to Eu­ro­pe­ans the ancient Greek ruins w ­ ere only symbolic capital; they ­were legendary marks, without a pre­sent life whatsoever. For Greeks, on the other hand, the ancient ruins, being construed as ancestral monuments, delineated a symbolic pre­sent, inscribed intimately into the po­liti­cal proj­ect of the new State.”108 Again, we see an articulation of the dichotomy between the Hellenic and the Romeic. That dichotomy emerges even more obviously in the account of Trant, who witnessed Christmas cele­brations on the terrace in front of the Hadrianic nymphaeum. Trant recognized the hydraulic function of the structure though, true to his Hellenic perspective, he also associated it with the ­temple of Kephisos that Pausanias (2.20.6) describes. The young w ­ omen of Argos hastened to the side of the Larissa hill, and ­there, in front of the “Oracular shrine,” they joined hands, and singing their national airs, commenced dancing the monotonous but graceful Romaika. I sat within the ancient t­ emple, on the spot where once stood the image of the God; and when I looked down upon the circling group before me, I pictured to myself a similar dance performed on the same spot twenty centuries before, then in honour of an idol, now in commemoration of the birth of our Saviour; and I could not refrain from thinking that custom might have consecrated this place as the site of the dance and revelry, and that it was not mere chance which had caused its se­lection.109 ­ hether or not the nymphaeum was associated with the sanctuary of KephiW sos in local lore, Trant was surely right that the choice of venue for the cele­ bration was hardly “mere chance.” This highly vis­ib­ le and physical remnant of the past, despite being obliterated from the literary rec­ord, had been reinscribed into local embodied practices, endowed with their own spatiality and temporality. As Steve Kosiba writes, with regard to the Inca Empire, “the ruins that lay at the heart of claims to antiquity are not inert or passive vestiges of ancient ­people and practices” but “in situated practices and discourses . . . ​are continually called to act as witnesses.”110 It is also far from insignificant that the dance the young ­women ­were performing should be called the Romaïka, with its evocation of a “Romeic” identity articulated through Christian observance. In the confrontation between the Hellenic and the Romeic, as well as the conflation between a past time, “twenty centuries before,” and the pre­sent observance, Trant’s experience must have been thoroughly heterotopic and heterochronic. ­These two episodes can usefully be read alongside a well-­known event recorded by Makriyiannis, who reminisces that, during the sack of Poros by

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Russian-­backed government forces in August 1831, some soldiers had seized two fine-­quality statues of a ­woman and a prince and ­were planning to sell them to Eu­ro­pe­ans in Argos. Makriyiannis detained the soldiers, telling them: “Even if they give you 10,000 talara, you should not stoop to let ­these leave our fatherland. It is on account of t­hese that we fought.” Makriyiannis purchased the statues for 350 talara, l­ater offering them to King Otto.111 Neither Kolokotronis nor Makriyiannis had received a formal education: although both occasionally invoke the memory of ancient figures such as Leonidas, Themistokles, or Sokrates, ­there are no traces of the more secular, Western-­inspired Hellenism of ­those diaspora intellectuals of the so-­called Greek Enlightenment in the fifty years or so leading up to the outbreak of the Revolutionary War.112 In this re­spect, their “sensory” knowledge of the past can be compared to the palikar (Greek irregular) who guided Davesiès de Pontès on his tour of Mycenae in 1831 and who was familiar with the names of Herakles and Leonidas but not t­ hose of Inachos, Perseus, Klytaimnestra, or the Atreids, prompting a sneering retort from Davesiès.113 The distinction between the perceptions of insiders and outsiders is well captured by Benjamin Anderson: “the relationship of a local interpreter to the object of interpretation was primarily defined by spatial proximity and familiarity. This definition excludes t­hose travelers, professional archaeologists, and diplomats who traveled long distances in search of antiquities, and whose relationship to ­those objects was powerfully mediated by a temporal distance represented by a linear chronology and their familiarity with an established corpus of Classical texts.”114 Davesiès de Pontès’s snobbish dismissal of his guide’s supposed ignorance can be compared to Trant’s account of how he was “accosted”—as he rather unkindly puts it—on the steps of the theater by a local schoolmaster, who wanted to know more about the ruins at their feet. Trant characterizes the schoolmaster’s words as follows: “ ‘We are at pre­sent,’ continued he, ‘in a very backward and ignorant state; but I hope that before long we s­ hall be better acquainted with ­every ­thing belonging to our own country. I feel ashamed that a stranger should have given me the history of such a ruin as this, when I, a Greek, ­ought to have been able to explain it to him; but I am labouring to make up for my deficiency.’ ”115 The sheer condescension of Trant’s narration ­here exemplifies the sort of colonialist mindset that characterizes many accounts by Western travelers in this period as well as the confrontation between the “Hellenic” outsider and the “Romeic” local. Indeed, if the incident occurred as Trant recounts, one might consider it an example of what Vangelis Calotychos describes as “self-­ colonization,” although we cannot rule out the possibility that the episode was in­ven­ted.116 ­Either way, Trant was not in fact able to tell the schoolmaster the



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history of the theater b­ ecause, in 1830, t­ here was l­ ittle “history” to know. The fact is that, while men like Kolokotronis, Makriyiannis, the palikar, or the Argive teacher may have been relatively unversed—at least in contrast to western Eu­ro­pean visitors—in the remote lit­er­a­ture and antiquarian curiosities of their native land, they nevertheless possessed a sensual, even visceral, connection to something far more vivid and concrete—­the material traces of the past in the pre­sent. We should, however, be cautious about pushing the opposition too far, as the following example w ­ ill show.

Telesilla: The Rebirth of a Legend Dimitrios Tsokris was born at Argos in 1796. Initially engaged in commerce in Rus­sia, Smyrna, and Constantinople, he returned to his home town in April 1821 to participate in the uprising and expended his own resources on arranging a band of combatants ­under his command. In the course of the war, he took part in the b­ attle of the Xirias, the siege of Nafplio, and in several of the actions during the invasions of Mahmud Pasha Dramalis and Ibrahim Pasha. He was the representative for Argos at the Fourth and Fifth National Assemblies and was president of the military court that sentenced Kapodistrias’s assassin, Georgios Mavromichalis, to death.117 In 1827, during the construction of Tsokris’s new ­house, two ancient reliefs ­were found in the garden of the property and incorporated into the walls that flank the front porch of the residence on Karatza Street, where they remain ­today.118 One, placed to the left of the entrance, is an unprepossessing funerary stele; the other, facing it to the right of the entrance, represents two figures (figure 14). To the left, facing right, is an adult w ­ oman dressed in a Doric peplos and high-­platformed sandals. Facing her is a small boy, naked, save for a cloak draped over his left shoulder, who is reaching with his right hand for an object that the ­woman holds. ­Temple saw it in 1834: “On the side stone of a door in the town is another bas-­relief of a ­woman holding an olive crown, with a boy facing her.”119 It was, however, first described five years e­ arlier by members of the French Scientific Expedition. For Blouet and his colleagues, the stiffness of the ­woman’s pose, together with the “severity” of her Doric costume, suggested a work belonging to an “epoch close to the c­ entury of Perikles.” Like ­Temple, they identified the object in the w ­ oman’s hands as an olive wreath but also drew attention to her unusual footwear, which they interpreted as kothornoi—­the high boots typically worn by tragic actors. T ­ hese attributes, together with “the dignity of attitude, the nobility of the features, and the heroic proportion of the personage . . . ​herald a

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Figure 14.  Drawing of the Telesilla Relief (from Blouet et al. 1833, plate 61 fig.1).

muse or a poetess; and one can conjecture that this monument is connected with some remarkable event in the history of Argos.” On this basis, the team concluded that the ­woman represented on the relief was none other than the Argive poetess Telesilla.120 Although Telesilla of Argos is named as one of the nine ­g reat poetesses of antiquity (Antipater of Thessalonike, Greek Anthology 9.26), ­little is known of her. Plutarch (Moralia 245c) says she came from an illustrious f­ amily and was told she would be cured of her ill health and win g­ reat renown if she devoted herself to ­music and poetry. Only a few fragments of her work survive: an epithalamios, or bridal song, for Zeus and Hera; a poem about the c­ hildren of



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Niobe; and hymns in honor of Apollo, Artemis, and the M ­ other of the Gods—­ the latter possibly recorded on an inscription (IG IV2, 1 131) of the third or fourth c­ entury CE in the sanctuary of Asklepios at Epidauros. Like Sappho, she seems to have composed choruses for girls and gave her name to a lyric meter.121 In the eyes of posterity, however, Telesilla’s chief claim to fame resides in an incident that is reported by Plutarch and Pausanias. The year was prob­ably 494 BCE—­although an ­earlier date has sometimes been proposed.122 According to Plutarch (Moralia 245c–­f ), the Spartan king Kleomenes I had killed a large number of Argive soldiers in b­ attle at Sepeia (near Tiryns), massacring the survivors through both treachery and sacrilege, and was advancing on the city of Argos itself, which no longer had any men of military age to defend it. The poetess Telesilla rallied the younger ­women and successfully defended the city against the Spartans; both Kleomenes and his coruler Demaratos, who had actually entered a quarter of the city, w ­ ere repulsed. To commemorate their victory, the ­women dedicated a statue to the war-­god Enyalios. Pausanias’s account (2.20.8–10) is prompted by a relief that he saw in the sanctuary of Aphrodite near the theater, which portrayed Telesilla having thrown away her books and about to don a helmet. In this version, Telesilla stations on the city walls slaves and t­hose too young or old to bear arms while the w ­ omen arm themselves with weapons taken from private h ­ ouses and t­ emples. Since the Spartans reason that it would be inglorious to kill w ­ omen but shameful to be defeated by them, they abandon the attempt. In real­ity, ­there is l­ittle to recommend the historicity of the episode. Eusebios’s Chronika (Ol. 82.2) dates Telesilla’s floruit to 451 BCE—­more than forty years too late to defend Argos against Kleomenes—­while the epitaph (Greek Anthology Appendix 553) that Telesilla’s widowed husband is supposed to have commissioned for her grave commemorates her faithfulness, kindness, virtue, gentleness, and everlasting fame, but has nothing to say about her defense of her native city. Most damning of all is the silence of Herodotos (6.76–83), who recounts the b­ attle of Sepeia, as well as the seizure of power at Argos by slaves in the immediate aftermath of the b­ attle, but makes no mention of Telesilla.123 In fact, in Herodotos’s account, a­ fter the ­battle of Sepeia Kleomenes heads not to Argos but to the sanctuary of Hera, eight miles northeast of Argos, where an omen dissuades him from mounting any assault on the city. Instead, the ­later tradition, which underpins the accounts of both Plutarch and Pausanias, seems to have developed in tandem with a trope of gender inversion. For Plutarch, the Telesilla story serves as an aition, or explanatory myth, for an Argive festival named the Hybristika, during which men and w ­ omen exchanged 124 clothing. For Pausanias, on the other hand, the story helps to explain a

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Delphic oracle that predicted the victory of the female over the male—an oracle that is already found in Herodotos, though clearly with a dif­fer­ent intended meaning.125 In all likelihood, the Telesilla legend took shape in the fourth ­century BCE and had become fully enmeshed in the city’s traditions by the time of Pausanias.126 For Blouet and his colleagues, then, it was Telesilla, the Argive equivalent of their own Joan of Arc or Jeanne Hachette, who was represented on the stele in the Tsokris house—­not so much in the guise of a warrior as of a poetess, whose ­music “had enflamed the courage of a sex hostile to fighting.” In support of this conjecture, they added three observations. First, that the child who ­faces the w ­ oman should be the personification of her artistic genius. Second, that at 1.8 m in height, the relief was larger than one would expect for a funerary stele. Fi­nally, the team proposed to reconstruct the badly weathered inscription on the cornice of the stele as [ΤΕΛΕ]Σ[ΙΛ]ΛΑΙ Σ[ΩΤΕΙΡΑΙ], or “To Telesilla, the Savior.”127 The identification was not universally accepted: the German philologist Christian August Brandis, who visited Argos in 1837, describes the relief without associating it with Telesilla, as did the Greek intellectual Iakovos Rizos Rangavis.128 The French scholars Jean Alexandre Buchon and Alexandre Bertrand thought that the stele represented Aphrodite and Eros, while it reminded the Greek writer Spyridon Paganelis of the famous Eleusinian relief of Demeter and Triptolemos.129 In 1879, Arthur Milchhöfer classified the relief as “sepulchral” and reconstructed the inscription as ]ΙΣ[. . .]ΛΑΙΚ[, with an iota before the first sigma, effectively ruling out a reconstruction of the poetess’s name.130 Nevertheless, the more romantic interpretation was more than capable of withstanding scholarly objections and Émile Isambert, who prob­ably visited Argos in the late 1850s, does not hesitate to describe the relief as representing Telesilla in the guidebook that he and his collaborators first published in 1861.131 Similarly, Kofiniotis, who had compared the crossing of the Xirias by Mustafa Bey in May 1821 to Kleomenes’s assault on the town, followed Blouet’s interpretation, even though he was familiar with Milchhöfer’s valid objections.132 Is it pos­si­ble to gauge where the true agency ­behind the identification of the Tsokris relief with the Telesilla story lay? Certainly, the story of the patriotic poetess was well known to the Western visitors who passed through Argos in the late eigh­teenth and early nineteenth centuries. Scrofani wrote at length about the heroines of Argos, culminating in a vivid description of Telesilla, “poetess and warrior at the same time.”133 Hughes is far less reserved: The young, beautiful, and accomplished Telesilla, casting away the terror natu­ral to her sex, and taking down the sacred armour from the ­temple,



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clothed herself in complete panoply; and having impelled the Argive ­women to follow this spirited example, led them out against the victorious army, to triumph or to die for honour and for liberty. . . . ​The virtue of patriotism is always animating: but when its pure and brilliant flame glows in a female breast, in a shrine adorned by beauty and dignified by genius, it enraptures the soul, it demands the admiration of all ages, and it consecrates to imperishable fame the place where it shone and the ­people that matured it.134 We cannot rule out the possibility that it was Blouet who impressed on Tsokris what he considered to be the true interpretive significance of the latter’s acquisition. Regrettably, t­here are no references to local antiquities in the 627 documents addressed to the general that ­were acquired by the Argive Danaos Society in 1951. On the other hand, in December 1858, Tsokris was admitted to the membership of the Archaeological Society of Athens, on account of his “zeal for antiquities,” so it is just as likely that Blouet gave scholarly credence to a belief proffered by Tsokris and based on an epichoric tradition. Despite Davesiès de Pontès’s condescending evaluation of the historical consciousness of the palikar who accompanied him around Mycenae, we should not necessarily assume that the population of Argos was unaware of the Telesilla legend.135 In­ter­est­ing in this re­spect is the brief introduction that Kofiniotis appends to his history of Argos. In describing the first year of the Revolutionary War, Kofiniotis notes that the naval captains Gikas Votsaris (Botasis) and Laskarina Boubouli (Bouboulina) went to Argos to work ­toward a resumption of the siege of Nafplio: “The ­people of Argos welcomed them with ­g reat honors, and they looked on Laskarina as another Telesilla; just as that w ­ oman, of g­ reat education and a noble heart, saved her fatherland, by opposing Kleomenes, so she [Laskarina], high-­minded and inclined to freedom, put on ­women’s clothes but armed herself like a man and came among the Argives and kindled in them a new momentum for war, and she exhorted them to return to their former positions and resume the siege of Nafplio.”136 In his own history of the war, Trikoupis does not explic­itly identify Bouboulina with Telesilla, but he does say that she was treated like a queen while visiting Argos and describes her as a “bellicose w ­ oman, with the mind of a man, armed and carried away with enthusiasm for the strug­gle” (ανδρόφρων αύτη και αρειμάνιος γυνή οπλοφορούσα και ενθουσιώσα υπέρ του αγώνος). He goes on to note that the Argives w ­ ere greatly encouraged by the presence of a w ­ oman at a 137 time when men ­were fleeing before the ­enemy. But, although Kofiniotis cites no explicit source for his equation of Bouboulina with Telesilla, he take pains to stress that his brief account of the Revolutionary War is taken not only from

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the familiar sources but also from living eyewitnesses as well as unpublished documents and letters.138 Some further support for the authenticity of the episode is provided by the fact that another author in­de­pen­dently refers to the comparison between Bouboulina and Telesilla in an article that appeared in the Athenian journal Estia fifteen years before Kofiniotis’s history was published.139 ­There is, then, a strong possibility that the Telesilla legend was already in local circulation at Argos during the war. The relief built into the Tsokris ­house is more likely a funerary stele and not a repre­sen­ta­tion of Telesilla. Although it has not been the subject of any recent study, stylistic considerations—­especially the hairstyle and the sandals—­ prob­ably suggest that it is a local and not especially distinguished work of the Hellenistic period, at least two centuries a­ fter the date that Blouet suggested.140 Furthermore, the object that the w ­ oman ­handles may be a skein of wool rather than an olive wreath, which would provide further confirmation for the supposition that the context is domestic rather than heroic.141 But what the relief actually represents is less impor­tant than what it was thought to represent in the 1830s. Western visitors to Argos arrived with preconceived notions, conditioned by their familiarity with the writings of ancient authors, that w ­ ere generally hard to reconcile with the scant material remains that ­were still vis­ i­ble. Conversely, if Kolokotronis, Makriyiannis, or the schoolmaster that Trant met are any guides, locals felt a tangible connection to the materiality of the past that was generally unencumbered by literary considerations. The Tsokris relief, then, was one of the earliest mediating ele­ments between the material and nonmaterial worlds. For the first time, it was pos­si­ble to gaze at, and even to touch, what was regarded as a concrete trace of one of the most enduring traditions connected with ancient Argos.

Kapodistrias and the Urban Plans for Argos Upon assuming the premiership, Kapodistrias immediately embarked upon a program of urban modernization throughout the territory recently liberated from the Ottomans. The intention was to efface the memory of the Ottoman past by embracing a more Western conception of urban society.142 Twenty-­ two “new” towns w ­ ere designated, with plans commissioned for nineteen of them—­including Nafplio, Corinth, Vostitsa, Patras, and Athens, even though the last was still u ­ nder Ottoman occupation.143 No fewer than three town plans ­were commissioned for Argos, although none was ever implemented fully. The first was entrusted to Stamatis Voulgaris, an engineer from Corfu who had served in the French army and who had also been charged with drawing up a



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plan for New Corinth. On April 17 / 29, 1828, Kapodistrias wrote to Nikolaos Kallergis, the extraordinary commissioner for the Argolid and ­brother of Dimitrios, noting that Voulgaris had undertaken to draw up an a­ ctual state plan of Argos, which he would then rectify by aligning the streets and giving a shape and decent proportion to the squares. The governor goes on to say that the government w ­ ill shortly issue an ordinance, preventing the residents of Argos from building arbitrarily or from encroaching on the bound­aries prescribed by the plan, and he urges the council of the dimogerontia to select a ­simple building as its headquarters and to satisfy the town’s urgent need for a church—­ presumably the church of St. John the Baptist, which Kapodistrias was to inaugurate the following year.144 As far as we can tell, Voulgaris’s plan of the town was never executed. Perhaps his involvement with the plans for New Corinth, Patras, and the Pronia suburb of Nafplio left him with l­ittle time to turn his attention to Argos. Alternatively, the proposed plans may have met with fierce re­sis­tance from the local residents. T ­ here ­were, however, clearly some building ordinances in effect by spring 1829: according to the Γενική Εφημερίς της Ελλάδος (general newspaper of Greece) of April  6 / 18, Kapodistrias made a visit to Argos, where he observed many recently built one-­story ­houses, constructed of mud brick, as well as numerous stone-­built ­houses, all of which ­were examined to ensure that they w ­ ere built to a regular plan. Furthermore, in early May, a decree was published requiring all new construction to be approved by the town’s appointed architect. In two letters, written on May 28 / June 9, 1829, Kapodistrias notes that he has approved both a topographical plan of Argos and a plan of reconstruction, drawn up by the Swiss engineer A. De Vaud, which would determine all ­f uture building in the town, and it is a reasonable conjecture that De Vaud had been commissioned ­earlier that year to execute a new town plan.145 The planned development of towns that already existed presented far more of a challenge than “new” towns such as Sparta, Eretria, or Itea—­not least, ­because the mutually implicated pro­cesses of planning and building ­were largely divided between the public and the private spheres, respectively.146 In his letter to Mavrommatis of July 6 / 18, 1830, Kapodistrias claims that the citizens of Argos are anxious for the De Vaud plan to be implemented but notes that vari­ous quarrels have arisen over land to which some residents have claimed title and for which they are seeking compensation. He goes on to tell Mavrommatis that once local revenues are collected, the government w ­ ill use part of the sum to clear the roads and markets, so as to give some order and shape to the urban habitat, and that De Vaud has been given instructions to construct canals that might distribute w ­ ater to vari­ous parts of the town.147

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Yet, within a month or so, De Vaud seems to have suffered some sort of ­mental breakdown and had asked to be relieved of his duties.148 By the end of August 1830, it is clear that the detailed prescriptions of the De Vaud plan had been rejected, although a letter to Mavrommatis from Nikolaos Spiliades of the general secretariat of state, written on October 14 / 26, reveals that limits on the height of buildings w ­ ere still being enforced.149 The principal objections to the plan can be inferred from Mavrommatis’s decision in August to appoint a five-­man commission, including the architect Lambros Zavos, to register ­houses, workshops, gardens, and vineyards throughout the town—­presumably with a view to establishing property rights and calculating the compensation due to ­those who might be deprived of some of their holdings as a result of the town plan. With Ordinance 2900 of December 27, 1830 / January 8, 1831, Kapodistrias decreed that Mavrommatis, in his capacity as topotiritis, should identify how many and which citizens would be deprived of their property; ­these holdings would then be surveyed and assessed by two experts—­one to be chosen by the property holder and the other by Mavrommatis, with Zavos serving as the ultimate arbiter in the event of a divided opinion. To avoid excessive demands for compensation in case of expropriation ­under the terms of a ­future urban plan, Mavrommatis recommended that public lands at Argos should be leased for one year, rather than ten, and this was the recommendation that Kapodistrias urged the Senate to adopt on January 23 / February 4, 1831.150 That f­uture plan was submitted to Kapodistrias on March 28 / April 9 by the Prus­sian military engineer Baron Rudolph de Borroczyn, along with a discussion of the extent of government property and how it might be distributed as well as a report on the restoration of an aqueduct that would furnish Argos with ­water from the River Erasinos to the south. The plan was approved by Kapodistrias on July 21 / August 2, although Borroczyn’s involvement with the proj­ect was evidently of short duration since in December, following Kapodistrias’s assassination, modest modifications to the plan w ­ ere made in the name of Zavos, now designated the “architect of the town of Argos.” It is, nevertheless, clear that intractable objections continued to be mounted by landowners whose newly constructed ­houses ­were at risk of expropriation. In a letter to Mavrommatis, dated December 4 / 16, Zavos suggests that the construction of an additional diagonal ser­vice road might serve to quell some discontent, and the proposal was approved by Agostino Kapodistrias on December 29, 1831 / January 10, 1832. Furthermore, in July 1832, the secretariat of state informed Zavos that the application of Borroczyn’s plan was proving both difficult and expensive and invited him to submit a new plan with fewer perpendicular intersections and public squares. By the second half of 1832,



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Zavos had been appointed director of health for the Aegean and the modifications to Borroczyn’s plan w ­ ere never made.151 Four slightly dif­fer­ent copies of the Borroczyn plan have been identified, all at 1:2500 scale.152 The earliest seems to be signed by Borroczyn himself while the latest carries the date of January 27 / February 8, 1867. Existing buildings belonging to the government are indicated in black while private residences are marked in white. Among the former are the churches of the Concealed Virgin; the Dormition of the Virgin; St. John the Baptist; St. Nicholas, demolished in 1859 to make way for the church of St. Peter, which became the town’s cathedral in 1865; St. Dimitrios, in the center of the town; and St. Spyridon, in the southeastern sector. The central mosque had already been destroyed while the southeastern mosque (­today the church of St, Constantine) is marked as a hospital, situated in a large public garden, with another π-­shaped hospital projected near the church of the Dormition of the Virgin. The Kapodistrian barracks, flanking the southwestern side of the central market square, are indicated as the “établissement pour la cavalerie,” while to the east is the Tribunal (­later the dimarchio). Among the private ­houses that are mapped are t­hose of Gordon, the Tsokris ­brothers, Trikoupis, and Christos Vlassis who, in 1834, became the first mayor of Argos. To the north, east, and south, the town is surrounded by a moat, flanked by an esplanade on each side, while access is by four gates: to the northwest, on the Deiras ridge, the Gate of St. George; to the north, the Corinth Gate; to the southeast, the Nafplio Gate; and to the southwest, the Tripolitsa Gate.153 In her analy­sis of Argos as a palimpsest, Maridina Kardarakou regards the Borroczyn plan as both “paratextual” and “metatextual.” It is paratextual ­because an urban plan seeks to guide and control construction and how it is perceived. In the case of Argos, the framing devices that Borroczyn applied ­were borrowed from Eu­ro­pean traditions of urban planning and architecture—­ including the imposition of the “neoclassical” style—­resulting in a seemingly strange garment that was ill-­fitted to the body it was intended to clothe. But it is si­mul­ta­neously metatextual ­because, far from being a tabula rasa, it was still based on the existing plan which it critiques in determining which traces to preserve and which to efface.154 As the legend to Borroczyn’s plan makes clear, a distinction is drawn between the Old Town (ancienne Argos) and the New Town (la nouvelle ville). The latter is projected for the southern part of the town—­that is, the former quarters of Békir-­Effendi and Karamuntza. This part of Ottoman Argos had been populated largely by wealthier Turks, whose land had now come into state possession and was to be redistributed in 308 plots spread over ten more or

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less rectangular city blocks, bisected into two sets of five blocks by the road that led from the Nafplio Gate to a square immediately south of the barracks. The major artery was to be a tree-­lined esplanade, oriented northeast-­ southwest, whose course is, for the most part, traced ­today by the modern Fidonos and Kallergi Streets; at its southern extent (­today’s Theatrou Street), the esplanade turned left (east) to terminate in a rotunda opposite the former southeastern mosque and its public garden. By contrast, ­there seems to have been ­little intention to impose an orthogonal plan on the former quarter of Arvenitia, to the northwest—­where Gordon, Tsokris, and Makriyiannis built their houses—­while, to the northeast, the former quarter of Romaïkos was especially underdeveloped, with residences essentially strung out along what are ­today Bouboulinas and Inachou Streets.155

Kapodistrias: Custodian of Cultural Heritage? Vasilios Petrakos has gone to some lengths to defend Kapodistrias against the charges of some of his contemporaries—­principally, though by no means exclusively, Adamantios Koraïs—­that he was indifferent, or even opposed, to ­matters of cultural heritage.156 It is true, for example, that he was one of the found­ers, in 1815, of the Filomousos Eteria (Society of friends of the Muses) in Vienna. Established in imitation of its homonymous counterpart in Athens, this was a society whose charter provided not only for the promotion of studies in Greece and the publication of classical works but also for the collection and preservation of “fragments of antiquities.”157 On May 12 / 24, 1828, the governor addressed an encyclical (no. 2400) to the extraordinary commissioners of the Aegean Islands, instructing them to take mea­sures to prevent the exportation of antiquities, and he made provisions for the first permanent collection of antiquities to be ­housed in the exonarthex of the chapel of the Savior, in the newly built orphanage in Egina town.158 In a letter to his Swiss secretary Elie-­Ami Bétant, dated November 20 / December 2, 1830, Kapodistrias betrays some satisfaction in the small but in­ter­est­ing collection of antiquities assembled in the museum and expresses the hope that ­there w ­ ill be resources in the ­f uture to conduct excavations so that foreign travelers ­will be less inclined to smuggle antiquities out of the country.159 Initially, the task of caring for the antiquities was entrusted to Kapodistrias’s older ­brother, Viaros, but the governor was successful in recruiting as director of the museum and head of the newly constituted Archaeological Ser­vice his fellow Corfiot, the historian Andreas Moustoxydis, who took up his duties in October 1829.160 ­Until his resignation, six months a­ fter Kapodistrias’s assassination, Moustoxy-



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dis took his responsibilities extremely seriously and played a major role in drafting an encyclical (no.  953), addressed by Kapodistrias to the extraordinary commissioners and provisional governors on June 23 / July 5, 1830. The encyclical endorsed the resolutions that had been ­adopted at both the Third and Fourth National Assemblies prohibiting the sale and exportation of antiquities and stipulating that all ­future finds of archaeological interest ­were required to be communicated to the directorate of the National Museum.161 On the other hand, when Koraïs—­writing u ­ nder the pseudonym G. Pantazidis—­accused Kapodistrias of exerting pressure on Greek citizens to donate their antiquities to the Museum, where they would be ­either hidden away under­g round or e­ lse given away to the Governor’s diplomatic friends, he was perhaps guilty less of calumny than of a refusal to recognize the imperatives of realpolitik.162 In fact, exceptions to the prohibition on sale and exportation w ­ ere made. For example, in a letter to the Bavarian classicist Friedrich Thiersch, dated September 22 / October 4, 1831, Kapodistrias announces that Moustoxydis is prepared to offer King Ludwig I certain “objets d’art from the National Museum in return for books, maps, and scientific instruments.”163 And despite the prohibition on the sale or transfer of antiquities outside Greece that was reaffirmed at the Fourth National Assembly of 1829, Kapodistrias did allow the French Scientific Expedition to the Morea to convey to Paris some metopes from the T ­ emple of Zeus at Olympia, in grati164 tude for French military support. Telling in this re­spect is a letter that Kapodistrias wrote on October 22 / November 3, 1829, to the French printer Firmin Didot. He tells Didot that he is hopeful that Argos w ­ ill be able to host a library and a printing press that might publish some of Moustoxydis’s articles on archaeology, although he also makes it clear that the primary function of the press would be to publicize acts of the government.165 It is hard to avoid the suspicion that conservation of the nation’s archaeological patrimony, while a worthy goal in itself, was a lower priority than more pragmatic issues such as land re­distribution, infrastructural development, or even the prohibition on the sale of nonlocal wines in Argive markets.166 Despite his diligence to his duties, Moustoxydis betrays no par­tic­u­lar familiarity with the antiquities of Argos. In August 1830, he was told by Mavrommatis that a certain Stamatis Michalopoulos, a Spartan resident of Argos, had discovered in his courtyard a vase containing 105 silver Argive and Aiginetan coins, of which he was prepared to donate two to the National Museum.167 On August 3 / 15, Moustoxydis replied to Mavrommatis, asking him to thank Michalopoulos but also expressing his opinion that “Argos must be rich in ancient monuments and especially inscriptions” and urging the topotiritis to search for and collect antiquities, in order “to contribute to the wealth of our

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museum and the glory of our fatherland.”168 And yet, of the 394 items that are inventoried in Leontios Kambanis’s cata­log of the archaeological museum, compiled in July 1832, the two coins that Michalopoulos donated are the only artifacts for which an Argive provenance is noted.169 Against this background, the fact that Borroczyn’s plan for Argos takes l­ittle to no account of the town’s ancient patrimony is not entirely surprising.170 Instructive in this re­spect is a comparison with the city plan that Stamatios Kleanthes and Eduard Schaubert w ­ ere drawing up in early 1831 for Athens, even though it was still occupied by the Turks. Kleanthes and Schaubert, who ­were both enthusiasts of archaeology, deliberately excluded the area immediately north of the acropolis from their new plan, so that “the ground over the ancient cities of Theseus and Hadrian remains unbuilt and t­ here is room left for ­later excavations.”171 At Argos, the areas of redevelopment projected by Borroczyn are situated well to the east of the few ancient remains that w ­ ere vis­i­ble in the 1820s but the reason seems to be dictated by the availability of former Turkish landholdings rather than re­spect for antiquities. The outlines of the Hellenistic theater, Baths A, and the Hadrianic nymphaeum are vis­i­ble on Borroczyn’s plan but they are not labeled. In Athens, major arteries w ­ ere oriented to provide vistas t­oward vis­i­ble ancient remains—­Athinas Street ­toward the acropolis or Stadiou Street t­ oward the Panathenaic Stadium. At Argos, by contrast, Theatrou Street, which terminates in the Hellenistic theater and certainly predates the Revolutionary War, is only incorporated into the new plan by having it meet the tree-­lined esplanade at an oblique ­angle. Furthermore, the projected esplanade actually leads vehicular and pedestrian traffic eastward rather than westward—­that is, away from the theater. In contrast to the accounts of travelers prior to the Revolutionary War, in which ancient and con­temporary structures are almost organically intermeshed in a heterotopic and heterochronic ensemble, the Borroczyn plan imposed a conceptual delineation between the Old Town and the New Town and it would take several de­cades before a new rapprochement could be engineered between the ancient and the modern.

Ch a p ter  4

Safeguarding Heritage

As we have seen, in proposing to utilize the Hellenistic theater at Argos for the Fourth National Assembly, Kolokotronis had already recognized the “marketability” of the past to a western Eu­ro­pean audience, while Kapodistrias was acknowledging the importance of the ancestral patrimony to the fledgling nation when he took mea­sures to protect and conserve antiquities. But, understandably, safeguarding the country’s cultural heritage was not the imperative that ranked highest among the governor’s priorities during his brief time in office and t­ here is l­ittle evidence that Kolokotronis’s scheme inspired any especially significant initiative at the local level. The Hellenic had not yet infiltrated the Romeic in any meaningful way and epichoric social time remained resistant to accommodating the monumental time of the nation. That would change over the course of the nineteenth ­century, when local agency can be credited for a new attitude ­toward Argos’s history and archaeological heritage that sought to fuse the timespace of the town with that of the nation. The young king Otto spent the summer of 1833 in Argos at the residence of Dimitrios Kallergis, prompting the vain hope that the town might be designated the capital of the new kingdom in place of Athens. Argos, it was argued, offered more defensive protection as well as large amounts of public land for the establishment of state buildings. But Otto’s philhellenic f­ather, King Ludwig of Bavaria, stepped in and, on September 18 / 30, 1834, the official 101

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transfer of the capital from Nafplio to Athens the following December was signed into law.1 Kallergis had been born on Crete in 1803 into an illustrious ­family that traced its roots back to the Byzantine period. Following the death of his f­ ather, Dimitrios was sent to St. Petersburg to live with his u ­ ncle, the Rus­sian foreign minister Count Karl Robert Nesselrode. In May 1822, he interrupted his medical studies in Vienna to join the Greek Revolution on Ydra and participated in the capture of Gramvousa, off the Cretan coast, in August 1825. The following year he fought alongside Georgios Karaïskakis in central Greece and with the French philhellene Charles Fabvier in his unsuccessful assault on Thebes. In May  1827, he commanded the Cretan contingent at the disastrous ­battle of Analatos, near Athens, where he was taken prisoner and only released following the payment of a large ransom of 70,000 grosia by his ­family. ­After the liberation of the Peloponnese, Kallergis served as deputy commander of the cavalry and adjutant for Kapodistrias, subsequently supporting the cause of his ­brother Agostino a­ fter the governor’s assassination. Otto appointed him a col­o­nel in the cavalry and continued to visit him at his home in Argos during the warmer months.2 So, for example, the German classicist Ludwig Ross, who was appointed ephor (director) of antiquities for the Peloponnese in 1833 and for all of Greece in 1834, describes an eve­ning in 1840 when the royal ­couple was staying at Kallergis’s h ­ ouse and watched a firework display in front of the barracks (which had been rebuilt ­after a destructive fire in 1834).3 ­Others would also comment on the elegant comfort and hospitality of Kallergis’s home in this period.4 Kallergis played a prominent role in events of 1843. For the first two years of Otto’s reign, Greece was actually governed on the underaged king’s behalf by a triumviral regency comprising Count Josef Ludwig von Armansberg, Major-­General Karl Wilhelm von Heideck, and Professor Georg Ludwig von Maurer. In blindly ignoring local traditions by imposing imported Eu­ro­pean institutional and l­egal conventions, levying heavy taxes to satisfy the financial demands of British lenders, and declaring an autocephalous Church of Greece, in­de­pen­dent of the patriarchate of Constantinople, the Bavarian regents quickly earned the hatred and hostility of their subjects. Ioannis Makriyiannis, who—at least initially—­was generally supportive of the king, was especially resentful that the veterans of the Revolutionary War w ­ ere discriminated against in ­favor of “heterochthons” (outsiders) who had not participated in the revolution. So, for example, he criticizes von Armansberg “and the other Bavarians [who] gave all t­ hese ­things to t­ hose fellow countrymen of ours, who have gorged at a feast they never deserved.”5 When Otto reached majority in June 1835, however, any hopes that the situation would improve ­were soon

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dashed. Bavarian influence remained strong and economic inequities, combined with Queen Amalia’s inability to bear an heir, the fact that Otto seemed to show no inclination to convert from Catholicism to Orthodoxy, and especially the king’s refusal to grant a constitution precipitated the revolution of 1843.6 Among the ringleaders of the revolution ­were Andreas Metaxas and Makriyiannis; the latter had left Argos for Nafplio in 1832 and then, in May of the following year, had moved to Athens, where he would become president of the city council.7 Originally, the insurrection had been planned to commence on the annual commemoration of in­de­pen­dence (March 25 / April 6, 1844) but it erupted prematurely in Athens on the night of September 2 / 14, 1843, when it became known that the conspirators w ­ ere about to be court-­martialed. Kallergis, who was commander of the Athens cavalry and an early recruit to the cause, gave ­orders for the gates of the Medrese prison to be opened and for its po­liti­cal prisoners to be liberated. He also sent some of his troops to seize the ministries, the National Bank, the National Trea­sury, and the National Mint, as well as to rescue Makriyiannis, whose ­house had been surrounded by the city gendarmerie. With the rest of his men, he marched to the large open square in front of the royal palace (thereafter known as Syntagma or Constitution Square), where he was joined by the infantry and artillery and eventually a large crowd of civilians, who began chanting their demands for a constitution. In what was almost a bloodless coup—­the only fatality was a gendarme shot outside Makriyiannis’s house—­Otto acceded to the crowd’s demands and, in March  1844, a constitution was established, along with a two-­chamber parliament.8

Argos in the Reign of Otto Another distinguished resident of Argos during the early years of Otto’s reign was Thomas Gordon. Born at Cairness in Scotland in 1788 and educated at Eton and Brasenose College, Oxford, he was commissioned into the Scots Greys cavalry regiment in 1808 but left the army two years ­later to travel to the Balkans, Anatolia, and the M ­ iddle East. ­After military ser­vice in Rus­sia and northern Germany, Gordon arrived in Greece in 1821, serving as military commander ­under Dimitrios Ypsilantis, but retired to Britain shortly a­ fter the siege of Tripolitsa in disgust at the atrocities committed ­there.9 He did, however, continue to support the Greek cause financially and was a founding member of the London Greek Committee. In May 1826, he set sail for Nafplio and liaised between the Greek governmental forces and the British general Richard Church, who had

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been appointed archistratigos at the Third National Assembly in April 1827. Following the b­ attle of Navarino, Gordon returned to Scotland but was back in Greece from 1828 to 1831 and then again from 1833 to 1840, when Otto appointed him col­o­nel and then major-­general in the Greek army, as well as commandant of the Peloponnese.10 Although Gordon split his time between Athens and Argos, it was his Argive home that served as his headquarters and to which he attached one of the few astronomical observatories in Greece at that time.11 Among ­those who lodged t­ here in 1838 and 1839 respectively w ­ ere the Scottish classicist William Mure and Henry John George Herbert, third Earl of Carnarvon.12 Church himself apparently owned property just outside Argos, though he spent most of his retirement in Athens, where he died in 1873.13 Meanwhile, Dimitrios Tsokris, who had been awarded successively the titles of Silver Cross (1836), Gold Cross (1837), and Commander (1848) of the prestigious Order of the Redeemer, spent most of the rest of his life in Argos, where he died on April 3 / 15, 1875. He served as the elected parliamentary representative for the eparchy of Argos between 1844 and 1859; his b­ rother Georgios was the mayor of the town between 1841 and 1848.14 The choice of Athens as the new capital of Greece was prompted primarily by Ludwig I’s obsession with the classical past. In 1834, it was ­little more than a desolate settlement of around 12,000 inhabitants with no established infrastructure.15 The diversion of resources and investment to Athens largely led to Argos being sidelined during Otto’s reign, although it did see the construction of one of the first national roads, linking the town to Nafplio. No other new public buildings are recorded for this period, except for the new cathedral church of St. Peter, on which construction began in 1859.16 Western Eu­ro­pean visitors continued to pass through, with a notable increase in the number of German travelers. Despite a passionate expression of what David Constantine calls the “Hellenic Ideal,” virtually no German of any note traveled to Greece in the eigh­teenth ­century—­perhaps ­because Germany in this period lacked sustained commercial contacts or the sponsorship of an enlightened patron such as the French monarchy or the British Society of Dilettanti.17 Michel Sève, who has documented the evidence for travelers to Argos between the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries, counts five German visitors for the first three de­cades of the nineteenth c­ entury but seventeen for the almost thirty years of Otto’s reign; no doubt the installation of a Bavarian monarch was a contributing ­factor.18 ­These included not only classicists such as Ludwig Ross and Christian August Brandis, but also the architect Leo von Klenze, the art historian Hermann Hettner, and Josef Baron Von Ow, who challenged Jacob Philipp Fallmerayer’s views on the Slavic origins of the mod-

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ern Greeks. We also encounter, for the first time, journals written by w ­ omen travelers. In 1841, Elizabeth Mary Leveson-­Gower Grosvenor, Marchioness of Westminster, visited Argos in the course of a cruise throughout the Mediterranean. Seven years ­later, the town hosted the staunchly conservative Swiss writer and activist Valérie Boissier, comtesse de Gasparin.19 At the start of Otto’s reign, the devastation caused by the Revolutionary War was still vis­ib­ le. Richard Burgess, who visited Argos in 1834 while serving as the chaplain to an Anglican congregation in Rome, notes that the palace of the voivode (the Ottoman governor) and the mosques had been leveled while the streets ­were “scarcely adjusted with reference to any general plan” and w ­ ere filled with roofless habitations and heaps of rubbish.20 Three years ­later, the French-­born British artist Francis Hervé also described desolate streets with battered ­houses, heaps of rubbish, and ­children’s ­faces with a sickly yellow-­g reen complexion, and adult men lounging around in coffee shops.21 Indeed, during his sojourn at Gordon’s ­house in 1839, the Earl of Carnarvon describes how he was visited by a former primate of the town, who complained that circumstances had been much better ­under the Turks.22 Some continued to express disdain: the British travel writer and artist Richard Barrington describes Argos in 1845 as a “large but miserable place,” while the American poet and literary critic Bayard Taylor calls it “a mean, filthy town, with a most indolent population, if the crowds of loafers at all the coffee-­shops might be taken as a specimen.”23 ­Others, however, noted improvement. George Cochrane remarks that, during the Revolutionary War, the Argive plain was an unhealthy, marshy wilderness in which a summer’s residence could often prove fatal but that by 1836 it was “well peopled” and “thickly studded with villages,” cultivating vines, cotton, and tobacco.24 By 1853, according to the Greek scholar Iakovos Rizos Rangavis, rice, maize, and wheat w ­ ere also being grown and the town was again “rising from the ashes,” with a population of around 10,000.25 William George Clark, a Cambridge classicist who passed through Argos in the mid-1850s, goes so far as to describe the town, despite the absence of paving or drainage, as “the most genuinely prosperous of any town in Greece.”26 The descriptions of the town offered by visitors during the 1830s, 1840s, and 1850s do not differ substantially from ­those dating to the period prior to the Revolutionary War and ­these—no less than the more negative comments about hovels and filth—­make it difficult to avoid the suspicion that we are dealing in part with “tropes.” This is not to say that the authors w ­ ere not eyewitnesses to what they describe—­though the En­glish landscape painter William Linton’s comparison of Argos to “the snug suburban retreats of St John’s Wood in plan” does strain credulity somewhat.27 Rather, visitors observed the town

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through the lens of e­ arlier accounts. Thus, in contrast to the better-­appointed residences such as ­those of Gordon or Kallergis, the majority of the houses—or huts, as they are often termed—­are described as one-­story structures, variously constructed from stone, wood, or mud brick and whitewashed.28 Stephen Olin, the president of Wesleyan University, is one of the few to offer further details, noting that the roofs of the h ­ ouses projected into the streets and w ­ ere supported by columns that formed arcades or sheds. But, he continues, “every­ thing has the most rude and clumsy appearance. Haste and cheapness seem to have been the only considerations that prevailed in their erection.”29 As in ­earlier accounts, a distinguishing characteristic of the town continued to be the fact that most residences w ­ ere surrounded by a garden, planted with oranges, lemons, figs, and mulberries.30 For the Irish poet Aubrey Thomas De Vere, the floral fragrance of the lemon trees was reminiscent of Sorrento on the Bay of Naples.31 Although Argos in this period boasted several cafés, many equipped with billiard ­tables, accommodation evidently left something to be desired.32 The Italian historian Francesco Cusani was told that ­there was no decent lodging to be had in the town but eventually found himself staying at a coffee­house, where a two-­day stay cost three times as much as “a large room in one of the premiere ­hotels in uncivilized countries.”33 It is impossible to determine ­whether this is the same pension above a coffee­house in the bazaar that Mure describes as a “passable lodging” or ­whether ­these are the same guest rooms in which Olin stayed.34 In 1854, the Franco-­Greek scholar Eugène Yemeniz was similarly frustrated in his hopes of finding a ­hotel and was conducted to a “miserable khan on the edge of town.”35 Burgess recalls wrangling with his landlord, “who charged us eigh­teen drachmas for the use of four bare walls,” while the comtesse de Gasparin lodged modestly in a small mudbrick h ­ ouse, whose earthen floor was covered by a few rugs and in which light and plenty of ventilation w ­ ere provided by three unglazed win­dows.36 Discontent against Otto had never ­really subsided. ­There was still no heir apparent and the king, despite being head of the Orthodox Church of Greece, clung staunchly to his Catholic faith. In 1850, following an antisemitic attack on David “Don” Pacifico, a former Portugese consul to Greece but also a British citizen, the British foreign secretary Lord Palmerston ordered a naval blockade of the Pireas. Then, in 1854, Otto sought to take advantage of the Ottoman Empire’s embroilment in the Crimean War and authorized guerilla incursions into Thessalia, Ipiros, and Makedonia with a view to extending Greek territory, prompting a thirty-­three-­month blockade of the Pireas by the British and French navies. Both incidents resulted in humiliating climbdowns

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on the part of the Greek state, which discredited the ruling regime. Fi­nally, although the constitution of 1843 was, for its time, one of the most progressive pieces of legislation in the world, Otto had reserved the right to appoint members of the Senate (Gerousia) and exercised what Richard Clogg has described as “a kind of parliamentary dictatorship.”37 In September 1861, Amalia survived an assassination attempt but on February 1 / 13, 1862, insurrection broke out in Nafplio. A squadron of cavalry, stationed in the barracks at Argos and ­under the command of Lieutenant Dionysios Tritakis, quickly marched to Nafplio in support of the uprising. Fellow insurgent Major Charalambos Zymvrakakis of the artillery moved to take possession of the Kapodistrian barracks while Lieutenant Dimitrios Grivas seized the ­house of Kallergis. The following day, and with the strong support of the mayor, the city council of Argos passed a resolution praising the uprising, though without guaranteeing any material support. The Argive veteran general Dimitrios Tsokris was initially thought to be favorable to the revolution: it was rumored that he had attended a conspiratorial gathering in April of the previous year. He was, however, accused almost immediately of negotiating with the government forces while si­mul­ta­neously claiming to enroll recruits to the revolutionary cause and was imprisoned in the fortress of Akronauplia. Meanwhile, with Tsokris incarcerated and a large royalist force approaching from Corinth, Zymvrakakis was forced to retreat to Nafplio. According to reports in the Athenian newspaper Avgi, another artillery officer gave o ­ rders for the destruction of the gunpowder factory that had been operating since 1837 at Kefalari.38 On February 2 / 14 the king’s army captured Argos without the slightest re­sis­tance and advanced to Nafplio where it began besieging the revolutionaries who had fled ­there. ­These eventually surrendered on April 2 / 14 ­after securing an amnesty, although Tsokris was not exonerated and was forced to flee in exile to Smyrna and then to Sicilian Messina, where he sheltered for the brief remainder of Otto’s reign.39

The Accession of George I In October 1862, while Otto and Amalia ­were on a tour of the Peloponnese, the revolution broke out anew in Vonitsa in western Greece, spreading to Argos, where a lieutenant in the gendarmerie was assassinated, as well as to the surrounding villages.40 The royal ­couple was forced to leave Greece on October 12 / 24, 1862, without even returning to Athens. The ­Great Powers w ­ ere now compelled to seek a new monarch to impose on the throne of Greece and,

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although Greek sentiment was heavi­ly in ­favor of Prince Alfred, the second son of Queen Victoria, France and Rus­sia ­were staunchly opposed to the accession of a British monarch. Fi­nally, the choice fell on the Danish Prince Christian William Ferdinand Adolphus George of Holstein-­Sonderberg-­Glücksburg who, on March 18 / 30, 1863, assumed the throne ­under the name George, King of the Hellenes. He would reign over Greece ­until his assassination in Thessaloniki on March 5 / 18, 1913.41 On his second visit to Greece in 1862, the Swiss writer Charles Schaub reports the population of Argos as being 20,000.42 In fact, census figures from the previous year show that 20,724 was the number of inhabitants in the eparchy (province) of Argos, whereas the town itself totaled 9,157 residents.43 The second half of the nineteenth ­century does, however, witness the un­regu­la­ted expansion of the town east of Inachou Street.44 As the En­glish historian and politician Edward Augustus Freeman explains, Argos, unlike Athens, “is not an artificial town; it has come to be what it is by the gradual operation of ordinary historical c­ auses.”45 Dora d’Istria (the nom de plume of the Wallachian writer Helena Koltsova-­ Massalskaya) visited Argos at the start of George I’s reign, describing its inhabitants as largely of Albanian extraction and listing four schools: a Hellenic (or ­middle) school; a “common” school with 140 pupils; a girls’ school of 150 students; and a private school of around 200 pupils.46 In 1867, the American author and activist Julia Ward Howe made a brief stop at Argos in the com­ pany of her husband, Samuel Gridley Howe, who had served as a surgeon during the Revolutionary War. Together, the two distributed clothing to destitute refugees from Crete in the Kapodistrian barracks.47 ­There is no doubt that travel in Greece in the mid-­nineteenth c­ entury was safer than it had been prior to the war, though brigandage continued to afflict the countryside. Julia Howe describes the excitement that broke out when a soldier brought back to town the severed head of the notorious wanted robber baron Kitzos; as a consequence, Howe’s party determined to visit Mycenae, which had previously been deemed too unsafe on account of Kitzos’s activities.48 The following year, on June 4 / 16, two ­people ­were killed and considerable damage caused by an explosion at the gunpowder factory at Kefalari.49 By 1870, Gordon’s ­house had degenerated into “a ­little dilapidated mansion, surrounded by an olive grove,” according to the ­future British Liberal parliamentarian Hubert Jerningham.50 Nevertheless, other elegant mansions built in the neoclassical style sprang up, including the residences of the Simantiras, Gagas, Kalliarchis, Ikonomos, and Mystakopoulos families (figure 15).51 ­These coexisted alongside simpler “vernacular” one-­story ­houses with red-­tiled roofs surrounded by gardens.52

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Figure 15.  West side of St. Peter’s Square. To the left, the Alpha Bank building, originally the Saganas ­hotel and restaurant; the restaurant to the right was originally a ­house built for the Mystakopoulos ­family.

On Sunday November 25, 1877, the New York Times introduced its readers to Argos. The pseudonymous author of the brief article paints a by now familiar sketch of the town, with its wide and clean streets and mostly detached ­houses, “each having a large court-­yard, or ­little garden.” Argos is compared favorably to the Iberian peninsula, especially with regard to the number of carriages for hire and the absence of beggars. As for the residents, “men, ­women, and ­children ­were all occupied; some in the shops, some in vineyards pruning the young vines, some on the thrashing-­floors, many in the fields u ­ nder the burning sun. So far as I had an opportunity of seeing them, they ­were respectful, intelligent, and industrious. I was astonished to observe, however, that though far advanced in many aspects, the peasants still follow the old wasteful Eastern custom of ‘treading out the corn’ on the thrashing-­floors with h ­ orses or oxen.” In its allochronic dismissal of a Romeic heritage on the part of the local peasants, the author perpetuates the heterotopic character of the town. When it comes to Argos’s archaeological

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heritage, however, we encounter a by now common refrain: “with the exception of the rock-­hewn seats of a g­ reat theatre, and the Cyclopean foundations of the citadel which crowns the hill, nothing is left. . . . ​Few places in Greece which played an impor­tant part in the nation’s history, are so destitute of ancient monuments.”53 In the same year, 1877, the publisher George Macmillan was guided round Argos by a doctor and former mayor (almost certainly Michaïl Papalexopoulos); in his com­pany ­were John Pentland Mahaffy, professor of ancient history at Trinity College Dublin, and the young Oscar Wilde. Macmillan characterizes Argos as a picturesque town, with shops sheltered by wooden pent­houses and “gay villas” surrounded by gardens of orange, lemon, and mulberry. “The town,” he writes, “is so modern, so busy and full of life, that even what few relics of the past remain are almost forgotten in the stir of the pre­sent.”54 In a similar vein, the French novelist Marie Anne de Bovet describes streets bordered by “oriental” shops and vaulted cafés, with barrels of retsina standing alongside amphorae of pure w ­ ater and aligned with blue and red b­ ottles of raki and masticha, and ­houses painted pink, green, blue, and white.55 Color had evidently returned to Argos. Not all locals ­were as enchanted. The Argive newspaper Erasinos for May 17 / 29, 1885, complains that the summer heatwaves that afflict the town, bringing with them illnesses, are due to the sun’s rays reflecting off the barren Larisa hill—­a situation that could easily be remedied ­were the hill to be planted with trees, as the paper claims it had been in antiquity. Though the town is described as possessing a natu­ral beauty, it pre­sents the aspect of an abandoned town of 1854. Its deplorable condition is criticized by visitors—an in­ter­est­ing internalization of the outsider’s perspective—­and ­there are no new public works to point out, save for piles of dung and excrement in the streets, as if they ­were honorific statues to civic consciousness. The paper also blames the police commissioner, Christos Papaïlios, for not paying the slightest attention to issues of public health—­notably with regard to the public latrine in front of St. Peter’s Square, which is compared to the Augean Stables, “emitting fearful and malodorous vapors so that t­ hose passing through the square are obliged to protect their sense of smell while t­ hose who live in the vicinity suffer an indescribable torture.”56 On an e­ arlier trip he had made in 1875, Mahaffy had stayed with “a medical man of education and ability” (presumably, Papalexopoulos), who had given him a good, nonresinated red wine.57 Jerningham was less impressed, complaining that ­there was no restaurant in the town in which he could have taken breakfast ­after climbing the Larisa. In the end, thanks to his Greek guide, he managed to book a t­ able in a loft over a grocer’s shop where he found the

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retsina “most objectionable to our Saxon palates.”58 Evidently, not all Saxons felt the same: Heinrich Schliemann, the f­ uture excavator of Troy and Mycenae, who visited Argos in 1868, considered the retsina to be excellent though, since he was unable to find a ­hotel in the town and was reluctant to brave the night in an inn, he slept in a tent that he set up in one of the neighboring fields.59 The notice is a ­little surprising since, six years ­earlier, Schaub had lodged in a ­hotel with a choice of rooms—­albeit unfurnished—­and the town certainly had a guest h ­ ouse by 1878—­perhaps the so-­called Danaos restaurant (now the Alpha Bank), run by the Saganas ­brothers on the west side of St. Peter’s Square, which had rooms for foreign visitors on its upper story.60 By 1896, we also hear of the Peloponnesos and Danaos ­hotels in the center of the town, while the Agamemnon h ­ otel (­later, the Byron) on the northern side of the square prob­ ably dates to shortly ­after.61 As we have seen, several Western visitors commented on the cafés of Argos. No fewer than eight are attested for the town center in newspapers of the 1880s and 1890s, along with the Kafenion Giti at the railway station.62 ­These ­were more than simply establishments for refreshment. For example, the Thiveou Café on St. Peter’s Square (now the Pireas Bank), which was established before the end of the nineteenth c­ entury, also hosted auctions and, in the early de­cades of the twentieth ­century, it functioned si­mul­ta­neously as a dance hall, theater, and cinema.63 The air of disdain that many foreign travelers express with regard to the cafés was sometimes picked up also by the local press—­ especially when it came to Sunday opening hours. Thus, the newspaper Danaos for July 15 / 27, 1898, castigates the disruption to the liturgy caused by rowdy crowds in the coffee h ­ ouses surrounding the cathedral. The card games that took place in cafés ­were also criticized as emblematic of the moral decay infecting the town.64 In 1877, Freeman remarks that “in the modern town ­there is no remarkable building of any kind, old or new.” He makes exception for the cathedral of St. Peter’s in the square in front of the dimarchio, which was completed in 1865, though he regards it as unremarkable, if large.65 The campanile that originally stood on the northern side of the cathedral was demolished in 1947, ­after being damaged during a violent thunderstorm.66 Two public building ­were, however, constructed in the 1880s. The first was the railway station, built in 1884–1885 (figure  16).67 The railway line itself, which connected Argos to Nafplio and Athens, was finished in 1885 and officially inaugurated by King George and Queen Olga on April 6, 1886, although the local newspaper, Argos, lamented that the royal c­ ouple spent so l­ittle time at Argos before proceeding to their lodgings in Nafplio.68 The Yale classicist Thomas D. Seymour claims to have been the first to buy a ticket from Athens to Mycenae, a journey of seven

Figure 16.  The now-­abandoned railway station.

Figure 17.  The market hall.

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hours—­though, as he points out, the omnibus at that time took thirteen hours to cover the thirty miles from Tripolitsa to Argos.69 The second building was the market hall (dimotiki agora), on the north side of the bazaar, facing the Kapodistrian barracks (figure 17). Built to the design of Panos Karathanasopoulos, a colleague of the German architect Ernst Ziller, it was completed in 1889.70

The Traces of the Past The descriptions, identifications, and interpretations of ancient monuments given by foreign visitors to Argos in the m ­ iddle and ­later de­cades of the nineteenth c­ entury are not substantially dif­fer­ent from t­hose furnished by ­earlier travelers. This prob­ably indicates not only a familiarity with ­those ­earlier accounts but also a certain “stabilization” of the information that was being peddled by local guides. Like many of his pre­de­ces­sors, Taylor was unimpressed: “To one who has seen Egypt, Baalbec, and Elephanta, t­hese ruins, apart from their historical interest, are not very impressive.”71 The Hellenistic theater continued to be a mandatory stop, even if Jerningham complained that it was “now merely a heap of rubbish.”72 Julia Ward Howe offers the surprising information that it was “called by the ignorant ‘the tomb of Helen.’ ”73 Baths A are interpreted variously as a ­temple, a basilica, or an odeion, though their true function was recognized by a team comprising the French architect Antoine-­ Marie Chenavard, the French painter Étienne Rey, and the Franco-­Italian architect Jean-­Michel Dagalbio, as well as by the Swiss philologist Wilhelm Vischer and Freeman.74 The nearby subterranean passages ­were still being pointed out in the 1850s, though they feature far less commonly in ­later accounts, and several travelers continued to believe that the ­temple of Aphrodite must have stood beneath the church of St. George.75 While recognizing the hydraulic function of the Hadrianic nymphaeum, Ross still believed that it must have been one of the ­temples described by Pausanias on account of the large terrace in front of it.76 Curtius revived Fauvel’s theory that it was the Kriterion, the lawcourt where Hypermestra was supposedly put on trial by her f­ ather Danaos (Pausanias 2.20.7; cf. 2.19.6), but o ­ thers continued to fantasize about an oracular function.77 The theory of Clarke and Gell, whereby the sanctuary of Apollo Deiradiotis was located under­neath the monastery of the Concealed Virgin and its oracle ­housed in the adjacent cave, was widely followed, though Curtius championed Dodwell’s view that this

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was the location of the ­temple of Hera Akraia, reasoning—­correctly as it would ­later turn out—­that the sanctuary of Apollo should be situated on the Deiras ridge.78 The French theologian Émile Le Camus, on the other hand, placed the sanctuary of Apollo at the Hadrianic nymphaeum.79 The German army officer Ferdinand Aldenhoven equated the nymphaeum with the prison of Danae, but the German classicist Conrad Bursian—­like Leake before him—­ identified the latter with the under­ground cistern on the Aspis.80 ­There are, in this period, effectively only two novel identifications: Curtius suggested that the southeastern mosque, consecrated—or perhaps reconsecrated—to St. Constantine in 1871, stood on the site of the gymnasium of Kylarabis (Pausanias 2.22.8, 9), while Le Camus situated the sanctuary of Apollo Lykeios beneath St. Peter’s Square.81 Sir Grenville ­Temple, in 1834, seems to have been the first to describe a rupestral relief on the path that connects the Hadrianic nymphaeum to the upper tiers of the Hellenistic theater.82 It depicts a large krater, a snake, and a mounted warrior with a round hoplite shield and was subsequently commented on by several visitors.83 Curiously, William Knight, who visited Argos four years ­later, claims that the relief was “not previously known to our [local] guide.”84 By 1860, however, it had certainly been accommodated within local knowledge since we hear that the locality was known to the town’s residents as To Fidi (from the Greek word for snake).85 Not far away, two crude reliefs are carved into the polygonal terrace wall of the Hadrianic nymphaeum, where they ­were first described by André de Monceaux in 1669.86 One depicts a three-­quarter view of three w ­ omen seated on a throne while the other is a frontal repre­sen­ta­tion of three seated w ­ omen wearing long robes. On the basis of extremely fragmentary inscriptions, Arthur Milchhöfer interpreted the reliefs as repre­sen­ta­tions of the Epitelides—­the Argive equivalent to the Erinyes or Furies.87 Visitors also continue to comment on architectural members, sculptural reliefs, and inscriptions built into the walls of churches and h ­ ouses (spolia).88 ­Temple discusses a small relief built into the north wall of the cemetery church of the Dormition of the Virgin, which he characterizes as a phi­los­o­pher receiving a manuscript from a boy; ­later commentators would interpret it as a man and a youth standing e­ ither side of an altar, and Milchhöfer believed that the object being passed to the man was not a scroll but a log (figure 18).89 The French antiquarian Jean Alexandre Buchon, who visited Argos in 1841, remarks upon ancient marbles set in the ­middle of walls and above the exterior doors of houses—­including a marble relief of Aphrodite and Eros, which was being used to support the lintel of a garden door on the road that climbs the Larisa.90 Meanwhile, in 1855, Bursian published two reliefs that ­were built into houses—­

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Figure 18.  Roman relief built into the north wall of the church of the Dormition of the Virgin depicting a man and youth standing e ­ ither side of an altar.

one near the Hadrianic nymphaeum.91 Similarly, the French archaeologist Alexandre Bertrand describes a relief depicting Aphrodite and Eros—­almost certainly the “Telesilla” relief discussed in the last chapter—­before turning to another relief, built above the door of a ­house not far from Kallergis’s residence, which portrayed a Totenmahl (funerary banquet).92 This is very prob­ ably the same relief that the German archaeologists Alexander Conze and Adolf Michaëlis found built into a h ­ ouse on the way to the mosque, along with the upper part of a statuette of a young boy, the headless and armless statue of a young man sleeping on a cloak, and the funerary relief of a ­woman and a bird.93

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Figure 19.  Reused columns and capitals (spolia) in the northern portico of the church of St. John the Baptist.

In­ter­est­ing in this re­spect is a passage from Hervé’s account of his visit to the then cathedral of St. John the Baptist on what is now Gounari Street (figure 19): But one of the most curious and inconsistent monuments I have ever seen, is the cathedral they have recently built t­ here. They have huddled together a variety of material, which they have beplastered over, and given it something the appearance of some of our new village churches, ­after they have just been whitewashed; but, as it was in Greece, they ­imagined that they must endow it with some classic character. They therefore routed out all the fragments they could find, such as the capital of a pillar, a piece of entablature, a bit of a broken column, or a pedestal, or in fact any of the remains of antiquity that they could muster; each served to stop a gap, and form one of the most singular masses of incongruity that I ever beheld.94 Quite apart from its heterotopic and heterochronic “incongruity,” Hervé seems to be suggesting that, while ancient spolia w ­ ere used “to stop a gap,” their inclusion in new constructions was not necessarily for economic or utilitarian reasons but a deliberate choice, taken to promote a “classic character” and presumably

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Figure 20.  Spolia incorporated into the church of the Dormition of the Virgin.

to emphasize a relationship—if not continuity—­with the past. It was, in other words, a deliberate attempt to foster cultural heritage by literally integrating the pagan Hellenic with the Christian Romeic. The practice of incorporating ancient statuary, inscriptions, and architectural ele­ments into ­later buildings is, of course, already attested in the ­Middle Byzantine period, as the example of the church of the Dormition of the Virgin illustrates (figure 20). Amy Papalexandrou’s study of this phenomenon in the ninth-­century church of the Kimisis Theotokou i Skripou in Orchomenos, Viotia, would appear to corroborate Hervé’s supposition that the practice was, at least in part, intended to generate social memory by engaging consciously with the past.95 Certainly, it is not just economic imperatives that account for the placing of Bertrand’s Totenmahl relief directly above the external door of a private h ­ ouse or for the symmetrical and highly vis­i­ble arrangement of the two reliefs that flanked the entrance porch of Dimitrios Tsokris’s residence.

Curating Antiquity It is also in this period that we have the earliest unambiguous evidence for the curation of antiquities at Argos. As far back as 1807, Adamantios Koraïs had

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warned against giving away or selling ancestral property and urged the ecumenical patriarchate of Constantinople to set up a museum—­primarily for manuscripts but also for coins, vases, vessels, precious stones, columns, stelai, and inscriptions, all cata­logued according to provenance and their relationship to Greek history.96 On February 10 / 22, 1825, the minister of the interior, Grigorios Dikeos (Papaflessas), decreed that antiquities should be centralized in collections hosted by local schools.97 As we have seen, Kapodistrias had established a National Archaeological Museum in the orphanage on Egina, which functioned from 1829 u ­ ntil 1834, when it was closed by Ross in his capacity as ephor of antiquities and its contents eventually transferred to Athens.98 But official or “top-­down” imperatives can only be effective if a convergence of interests exists also at the local level. For example, when, on May 13 / 25, 1840, the minister for ecclesiastical affairs and public education sent an encyclical to regional governors, inquiring into the feasibility of setting up local museums, the mayor of Nafplio chose not to put the ­matter to the town council for discussion.99 The very first reference to a curated collection at Argos dates to 1853. Vischer informs us that he attempted to view a collection of antiquities h ­ oused in the residence of Dimitrios Kallergis. In their master’s absence abroad (prob­ ably Paris), the h ­ ouse’s caretakers w ­ ere reluctant to show Vischer anything except a c­ ouple of plaster casts of ancient heads, which the Swiss scholar suspected had been purchased in Paris.100 Two years ­later, in 1855, Bursian notes that at least one artifact with an Argive provenance—­a funerary stele in commemoration of a certain Kephisodotos—­was part of a collection of antiquities ­housed in the high school (now the dimarchio) at Nafplio, while three years ­after that, in 1858, Conze describes a small collection of sculpture and pottery in the ­house of a pharmacist.101 By 1859, however, a small collection of vases, sculptures, and other excavation finds ­were displayed in one room of the Kapodistrian tribunal and town hall (the l­ater dimarchio) in St. Peter’s Square.102 Some of the finds, including inscriptions, also came to be displayed in the building’s courtyard and the museum now began to constitute a mandatory stop on visitors’ itineraries. In December 1878, the finds ­were centralized, reor­ga­nized, and exhibited in glass cases in a single room on the ground floor of the building by Panagiotis Stamatakis of the Archaeological Society of Athens and the following year a cata­log of the sculpture—­though not the ceramic or terracotta artifacts—­was published by Arthur Milchhöfer in the Mittheilungen des deutschen archäologischen Institutes in Athen.103 Of the 526 items cata­logued, 480 came from the Argive Heraion (see below).104 ­These ­were supplemented by finds from Lerna (Myli) and Temenion (the modern Nea Kios), which had previously been kept in the high school at Nafplio.105 Schaub, for

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one, was underwhelmed by the collection, although the French art historian Gustave Larroumet considered some of the sculptural fragments to be fine pieces.106 Among the exhibits in the dimarchio of Argos that evoked the most comments w ­ ere: (1) a Late Hellenistic statue of Aphrodite, missing its head and lower arms and with its left foot surmounting a ­water bird, found near the Hellenistic theater; (2) a fourth-­century relief depicting a youth with a spear over his shoulder (the doryphoros pose) and leading a ­horse, found south of the theater; (3) a rectangular plaque with a gorgon’s head, dating to the Roman imperial period; (4) a fourth-­century head of a ­woman, originally thought—­prob­ably erroneously—to be Demeter, found at Lerna; and (5) a relief with a youth sitting on a rock, his left hand resting on his knee, supposedly found south of Argos.107 The first three of ­these appeared in the 1875 cata­log of casts produced by Napoleone Martinelli, though the Argive replica that fetched the highest price was a cast of the Telesilla relief in the porch of Tsokris’s ­house, which retailed for 150 franks.108 From 1885, however, some of the more distinguished pieces—­including the doryphoros relief, the statue of Aphrodite, and the “head from Lerna”—as well as the bulk of the finds from the Argive Heraion w ­ ere transferred to the newly built National Archaeological Museum in Athens.109 The Argive Heraion, situated five miles northeast of Argos, was one of the most impor­tant sanctuaries in the northeast Peloponnese. It was first rediscovered by Gordon during a shooting expedition in 1831 and, in 1836, Gordon and George Finlay conducted l­imited excavations, recovering a marble peacock, a terracotta antefix, and a bronze lion, as well as numerous corroded bronzes and terracotta figurines.110 In 1854, Bursian and Alexandros Rizos Rangavis (professor of archaeology at the University of Athens, one of the founding members of the Archaeological Society of Athens, and a cousin of Iakovos Rizos Rangavis) investigated the site, uncovering the pseudocyclopean terrace wall that supported the old (seventh-­century) t­ emple and recovering fragments of architectural sculpture—­including lion-­headed ­water spouts—­and parts of the Parian marble frieze which had decorated the second (fifth-­century) ­temple. ­These are the pieces which, ­until 1885, formed the highlight of the display in the Argos dimarchio.111 ­Earlier, in January 1845, the discovery of a relief and a protome at Temenion prompted some Argives and Nafpliotes to apply for permits to dig at both Temenion and Lerna.112 Excavations in this period ­were largely haphazard affairs with ­little state oversight. From a much ­later issue of the newspaper Argos, we hear that, during Michaïl Papalexopoulos’s term as mayor, the municipality funded some excavations ­under the oversight of the ephor of the Archaeological

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Society, Ioannis Stamatelos, but that the funding had been exhausted and the excavations suspended without any significant finds.113 According to Kofiniotis, the excavations had uncovered the foundations of a ­temple to Asklepios near the theater but the trenches ­were then backfilled.114 Papalexopoulos was mayor of Argos from 1870 to 1874 and again from 1879 to 1883, but the excavations must have taken place during his first term ­because, in 1875, the Ministry of the Interior prohibited excavations undertaken by local or municipal authorities.115 Even then, however, state-­appointed guards ( fylakes) at archaeological sites w ­ ere not introduced u ­ ntil 1889–1891.116 ­There was also, of course, illicit excavation—­largely to sustain the illegal trade in antiquities. Article 18 of the Third National Assembly at Troizen in 1827 had already forbidden the sale or export of antiquities but repeated decrees and encyclicals issued in the ­middle de­cades of the nineteenth ­century reveal how difficult it was to enforce the prohibition.117 One of the offenders was apparently Kallergis, although t­ here is nothing to indicate that his excavations yielded any material.118 The Nafpliote newspaper Argos for February 9 / 21, 1845, even suggested that the law prescribing that all antiquities found on national land ­were the property of the state was itself responsible for proprietors hiding and selling antiquities.119 Conze and Michaëlis recount how they acquired a terracotta statuette of a ­woman in a long-­sleeved chiton, which they interpreted as an image of Hera and which they intended to deposit in the museum of Berlin; Schliemann describes how he bought for thirty drachmas a small marble bust of Zeus, which a farmer had found while plowing; and Mahaffy tells how he was offered a variety of coins by ­children.120 ­There was also fraud: Petit apparently saw a number of traders in St. Peter’s Square selling fake antiquities—­a phenomenon that he claims had increased since Schliemann’s excavations at Mycenae.121

The Local Perspective Local newspapers are a valuable source of information for epichoric attitudes to antiquity in this period. Two notes of caution are, however, in order. First, it would be an exaggeration to claim that issues of cultural heritage ­were of paramount importance to ­either journalists or their readership. In a survey of six local Argive newspapers in the 1880s and 1890s, Georgios Kondis has demonstrated that the vast majority of lead articles (around 45 ­percent) relate to politics while only about 6 ­percent treat historical m ­ atters.122 For many months in 1884, for example, the press was dominated by the curious tale of two Argive citizens who w ­ ere arrested in Aïdinion (in what is now Turkey) on the

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suspicion of being the notorious Samian pirate Captain Andreas and his companion. It seems to have been a case of mistaken identity but the lengthy court case in Smyrna evidently gripped the readership of the Danaos newspaper, which devoted many successive issues to the story. In the same year, ­there was an almost obsessive flurry of angst-­ridden articles reacting to the rumor that the new railway line connecting Athens with Nafplio might not pass through Argos. Second, it would be mistaken to consider local newspapers an unmediated vox populi, expressing a vernacular mentality in contradistinction to official discourse or conforming to “social time” rather than “monumental time.” Newspaper editors ­were as interested in shaping public opinion as they ­were in reflecting it. Nevertheless, when themes ­were revisited in successive issues, it is reasonable to suspect that the ­matter was of some communal import and on this basis one can, in fact, discern glimpses of an awakened interest in the cultural heritage of Argos and its immediate surroundings. One of the earliest local newspapers, Argos, was edited and printed not in Argos but in Nafplio from 1844. Issue 19 of October 6 / 18, 1844, carried a story about an investigation into the theft of antiquities from the sanctuary of Zeus at Nemea, concluding that “the preserved antiquities are a priceless heritage from our forefathers and their theft is a sacrilegious act.”123 ­There are clear echoes h ­ ere of what Yannis Hamilakis has characterized as the sacralization of antiquity within the “secular religion” of the nation.124 Between January and March of 1845, as we have seen, the newspaper carried reports about the antiquities recovered at Temenion, which included the stone bust of a man, together with its base, and a relief depicting Mysios, Chrysanthes, and Demeter that was dedicated by a certain Aristodemos. The fullest report concluded with an exhortation to its readers to demonstrate “to the enlightened world and to certain foreign enemies” that they value their descent.125 The next issue included an article on the ancient city of Argos, outlining its history from antiquity through to Ottoman times as well as the physical monuments that ­were still vis­i­ble—an account that clearly owes much to the writings of the many foreign travelers who had visited the town over the previous c­ entury and a half.126 Argos itself would not have its own newspaper ­until 1883, when the inaugural two issues of Euthyne ­were published. Danaos first appeared in the same year and ran for two years. Indeed, the publication of most newspapers was unstable b­ ecause of economic difficulties: Erasinos first appeared in 1885 but lasted a mere four months; another newspaper entitled Argos was published between 1885 and 1889, while Agamemnon ran from 1888 to 1889.127 On June 24, 1883, Danaos carried a piece on the topography of the town and its antiquities, written very much from the perspective of a foreign visitor.128 The topic

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that dominated, however, in ­matters of cultural heritage was Schliemann’s excavation at Tiryns, which commenced on March 17, 1884. Already, in the previous month, the paper had commented caustically that “the g­ reat trafficker of archaeological excavations” ­will “bring back to the Argolid his luminous industry, through which he ‘discovered Agamemnon and recognized him from his eyes.’ And we have no doubt that in Tiryns he ­will discover the nose of Proitos and the jaw of Perseus to the glory of archaeology and the construction of his new mansion, on the model of Ilion, in Athens.”129 On March 21 / April 2, 1884, the paper reported rumors of “certain quarrels” between Schliemann and Dimitris Filios, the ephor of antiquities in Thessaly who had been ordered to watch over the Tiryns excavations. It went on to express the hope that ­there would not be a recurrence of the hostility that existed between Schliemann and Panagiotis Stamatakis during the excavation of Mycenae, when the former had exhibited such a jealous love for antiquities that he could not tolerate the presence of anybody e­ lse in his com­pany.130 From ­there, Danaos’s relationship with Schliemann deteriorated rapidly. On June 14 / 26, the paper complained that Schliemann had dumped the earth he had excavated on the cyclopean walls of the citadel at Tiryns: “such inconsistency, such impiety ­toward the revered remains of antiquity constitutes a shameless and illicit trade in antiquities and we call for the attention of the Ministry.”131 On July 13 / 25, t­ here was a long tirade against the archaeologist, noting that, from an initial investment of 37,000 drachmas at Mycenae, he had profited by about a million drachmas. The paper even accused him of urinating in the palace at Tiryns in front of fifty or sixty workers and of having claimed to find an ancient silver cup which was, in real­ity, a cheap tin vessel discarded by a worker in 1876.132 Fi­nally, in its edition of October 30 / November 11, Danaos expressed outrage at comments Schliemann had apparently made at an anthropological conference in Breslau, castigated him as “an ignorant and charlatan antiquities dealer,” and again bemoaned the dumping of earth on the walls of Tiryns that now had to be cleaned up by the Archaeological Society of Athens.133 By contrast, Stamatakis (who had just been appointed ephor of antiquities) is commended for his promotion and care of antiquities.134 This newfound—­though by no means universally pervasive—­local interest in the historical and archaeological heritage of Argos was not simply an exercise in self-­pride. The past was also “usable.” On December 22, 1884 / January 3, 1885, in the context of the consternation that the railway might not pass through Argos, Dimitrios Vardouniotis, a local l­awyer, the editor of Danaos, and also the new director of the archaeological museum, railed against the neighboring town of Nafplio.135 In many re­spects, this was a byproduct of the

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fierce rivalry between Argos and Nafplio that can be traced as far back as the Frankish period. “What rights or privileges,” Vardouniotis asks, “does it [Nafplio] have to c­ ounter the age-­old glorious history, the incomparable geo­graph­ i­cal and natu­ral advantages, or the full life and ­f uture population of Argos?”136 The “age-­old glorious history” refers to the popu­lar and by now well-­entrenched conceit that Argos was one of the oldest, continuously inhabited cities in Greece. By contrast, save for some scraps of classical masonry on the acropolis of Akronauplia (Its Kale), Nafplio did not possess the physical vestiges of which Argos could boast; its interest for Western travelers lay chiefly in its proximity to the site of Tiryns or as a port of (dis)embarkation. Effectively, it had no ancient past: in Pausanias’s day (2.38.2) it had already been abandoned and therefore merited no description. In fact, we hear practically nothing about Nafplio in extant ancient works, save for the information that it was apparently destroyed by Argos at some unspecified date and its population resettled by the Spartans in Messenia.137 ­There may also be a hint of rivalry—­though this time with the capital—in the rather reproachful coverage that Argos gives to a significant theft from the Numismatic Museum in Athens in November 1887. In discussing a new law, proposed by the minister of ecclesiastical affairs and public education, concerning “the valuable and holy objects of the fatherland,” the newspaper explains that it is the notorious trade in antiquities that prompted the theft. It then repeated a claim from the Athenian newspaper Acropolis that an Athenian ­lawyer named Ioannis Kastromenos, the ­brother of the curator of the museum, was involved in the sale of coins.138 In its next edition, the paper engaged in a considerable amount of soul-­searching as to why Greece had become “a cave of robbers.”139 Twelve years l­ ater, however, the shoe was on the other foot when, on August 22 / September 4, 1900, four heads and a relief ­were stolen from the collection in the dimarchio of Argos.140 ­After ­little more than six months, on March 7 / 20, 1901, a confession led to the recovery of three of the heads—­one of which had been broken up into three pieces—­from a well in the village of Laloukas, a short distance to the east of Argos. Subsequently, one of the thieves, Spyridon Vossos, would be condemned to eigh­ teen months in prison while the other, P. Limniatis, received an eight-­month custodial sentence.141 Symptomatic of the new interest in antiquarianism—­though not on the epichoric level—­was the Greek scholar and journalist Spyridon Paganelis, who visited Argos in 1889. ­After observing the Telesilla relief in the porch of Tsokris’s ­house, which he likened to the famous relief of Demeter and Triptolemos, originally from Eleusis and now in the National Archaeological Museum in Athens, he wondered why it had not been conveyed to the museum,

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“to save it from injuries from boorish passers-­by.”142 Most of his exasperation is, however, directed at the alleged robbing of stone blocks from a site on the banks of the Xirias for use in the new market hall. Technically, since May 1837 it had been illegal to smash or mutilate ancient physical remains, but clearly that had been no impediment to ­those whom Paganelis calls “the barbarians and uneducated, ­those who senselessly damage the artistic remains of ­every epoch.”143 Paganelis believed that the site had been the ancient double t­ emple of Aphrodite and Ares—­which Pausanias (2.25.1) describes on the road to Mantinea—­and he recounts how, on his most recent visit to the site with Vardouniotis, t­ here ­were no longer any traces of the structure to be found.144 Paganelis continues: “I observe, nevertheless, with sadness that t­ here is not in the town of Argos, neither on the part of the public officials nor on the part of the citizens, that sensation or energy that should or could save the monument from the sacrilegious claws of senseless wrongdoers. It would be desirable if the government or the Archaeological Society w ­ ere to send some expert to the place so that, through an impromptu study, he might testify as to w ­ hether the monument has been preserved by being buried anew, or if its regular blocks have been looted, carried off to dif­fer­ent addresses.”145 In a similar vein, the newspaper Agamemnon for October 21 / November 2, 1892, carried an article decrying the young men who would daily ascend to the upper steps of the Hellenistic theater, from where they would hurl bulky stones and smash the seats, with the result that “­there ­will no longer be any trace of this amphitheater.”146 The message is clear: the stewardship of cultural heritage could be entrusted only to a select few—­those who had the education and sensibility for the hallowed past that distinguished them from “senseless barbarians.”

Kofiniotis’s History of Argos On September 7 / 19, 1888, Argos carried an article entitled “On the Larisa.” It is a romanticized exercise in nostalgia, wherein the author imagines himself as “one of the descendants of t­hose men of the past,” standing on the Larisa and witnessing the Hellenistic theater being traversed by such ancient luminaries as the sculptors Polykleitos and Ageladas, the musicians Lasos and Aristonikos, or the poetess Telesilla (all of whom w ­ ere long dead by the time the theater was built). The narrator is then jolted back into a pre­sent that cannot expect to equal the glory of the past.147 The article is signed with the nom de plume Charadros, but ­there is some reason to believe that its author was Ioannis Kofiniotis.148

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Kofiniotis was born in e­ ither 1850 or 1851 near Nafplio and studied philology at the University of Athens. His connection with Argos began in 1883, when he married Dimitra Simantira, of a prominent Argive ­family, and he was evidently a good friend of Vardouniotis.149 At the time of his marriage, Kofiniotis was the headmaster at a high school in Tripoli (Tripolitsa), although he transferred shortly afterward to Pyrgos in the western Peloponnese. In September 1887, he moved to Nafplio, where he was appointed headmaster of the high school ­there.150 By 1892, however, he was clearly teaching in Athens since we learn that he was sacked in that year from his post in one of the capital’s high schools. According to Agamemnon, the motives for the dismissal w ­ ere political—­not least b­ ecause he had dedicated his History of Argos to Theodoros Diligiannis, the nationalist politician and archrival of the modernizing Charilaos Trikoupis, whose government had come to power ­earlier that year.151 Kofiniotis served ­under Diligiannis in the Ministry of Ecclesiastical Affairs and Public Education and was the author of numerous textbooks that ­were taught in elementary and m ­ iddle schools.152 Following Diligiannis’s assassination on the steps of the Old Parliament Building on June 13 / 26, 1905, Kofiniotis allied himself with politicians such as Kyriakoulis Mavromichalis, Dimitrios Rallis, Georgios Theotokis, and Alexandros Zaïmis, who ­were opposed to the Cretan statesman Eleftherios Venizelos. In August 1910, he was elected the parliamentary representative for the Argolid and Corinthia, though he did not stand for reelection l­ater that year.153 He died in Athens in 1921. In May 1888, Kofiniotis announced that his investigations on Mount Lykoni, to the west of the Larisa, had revealed ceramic fragments and some ashlar blocks that he identified as the sanctuary of Artemis Orthia; according to Pausanias (2.24.5), this ­temple ­housed marble statues of Apollo, Artemis, and Leto by the famed Argive sculptor Polykleitos.154 In August of the same year, with the permission of the Ministry of Ecclesiastical Affairs and Public Education and with a subvention of 300 drachmas, Kofiniotis conducted excavations on the hill, uncovering the foundations of a precinct wall with a mosaic floor as well as fragments of roof tiles, sculpture, and architecture, the torso of a female statuette, and three Roman coins.155 Two years ­later, in August 1890, Kofiniotis undertook a dig at the foot of the acropolis of Midea, east of Argos, where he brought to light a series of foundations, as he did also at a site near Katsingri.156 Fi­nally, in 1891, Kofiniotis sank a trench in the Hellenistic theater at Argos, revealing an additional eigh­teen rows of seats from the lower cavea and, at the northern extremity of the skene building, deep chasms which he interpreted as a secret, under­g round passageway to the center of the orchestra (“Charon’s Ladder”). Among the finds uncovered ­were fragments of

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sculpture, architecture, and painted ceramics, clay weights, and twenty-­three coins, all of which w ­ ere transferred to the museum in the dimarchio.157 Kofiniotis is, however, best known for his 1892 publication, A History of Argos from the Earliest Times to Our Own Day, the first book-­length treatment of the town’s history. The proj­ect had been announced as far back as January 1888 and had originally been intended to appear in two volumes—­the first covering topography and the history of Argos from the earliest times down to the Roman conquest, the second dealing with events from the Roman occupation down to the pre­sent day, accompanied by a map and a list of all known coin issues.158 In the end, only the first volume was ever published. No doubt, Kofiniotis’s activities in Athens left him with l­ittle spare time to bring the proj­ect to completion but, on at least two occasions, he appealed to the readership of Argos for any documents in private collections that dealt with the history of Argos u ­ nder Turkish occupation, noting that it was beyond the powers of any single ­human to cover the entirety of the material from beginning to end, even if he would do his best to fill in the gaps.159 It is, then, entirely pos­si­ble that the projected second volume ultimately found­ered due to a lack of sufficient source material. The book’s prologue begins with a florid apologia, explaining that Argos was not only one of the three most famous cities of antiquity (along with Athens and Sparta) but also reputedly the oldest. In fact, Kofiniotis describes Argos as “the Bethlehem of Hellas.”160 This conflation of the supposed birthplace of Hellenism with the birthplace of Chris­tian­ity is hardly innocent. As is well known, the reclamation of the ancient “Hellenic” past was part of a protonationalist proj­ect conceived by Greek intellectuals of the diaspora, such as Adamantios Koraïs, but heavi­ly influenced by western Eu­ro­pean intellectuals, who idealized ancient Greece as the ancestor of Eu­ro­pean culture.161 In promoting this proj­ect, the term “Hellenes,” which had defined the Greeks of antiquity, had to be rehabilitated ­because, with a few exceptions, it generally connoted e­ ither “pagans”—­a usage already presaged in the Gospels of Mark (7:26) and John (7:35)—or a mythical race of super­natural or gigantic beings who had once populated the Greek landscape but from whom the current inhabitants claimed no lineal descent.162 Conversely, the Greek-­speaking populations of Ottoman Greece tended to view themselves not as Hellenes but as ­either Christians or Romans (Romei)—­that is, as the inheritors of the Eastern Roman (Byzantine) Empire and as conationals with all ­those who professed the Orthodox religion, regardless of ­whether they spoke Greek, Albanian, Vlach, Bulgarian, or so on. Indeed, it was this religious-­based “nationality” that was recognized by the Ottoman authorities who, at least by the nineteenth c­ entury, grouped all their Christian Orthodox subjects into the Roman Millet (Millet-­i-­ Rum), ­under the authority of the ecumenical patriarch of Constantinople.163

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Initially, ­there was not a large degree of overlap between ­these two dif­fer­ ent modes of self-­identification. The architects of the nationalist proj­ect, mostly due to their exposure to the ideas of the Eu­ro­pean Enlightenment, tended to be more secularly inclined and critical of the superstitious fear-­ mongering of the clergy—­“monkish barbarians,” as Koraïs called them.164 As a consequence, the Greek language was invested with greater saliency than religion as a boundary marker for an incipient Greek national identity. As Grigorios Zalikoglou proclaimed in 1809, language is “the only ancestral trea­sure that remains to us, the only strong core that draws us together and embraces us, the only natu­ral bond that unites us. Countless o ­ thers share the same faith, but not having the same language, they w ­ ill never become one body with us.”165 Furthermore, the notion that language was the unbroken thread that connected con­temporary Greeks to their ancient Hellenic ancestors led to calls for linguistic reform—­initially, in terms of a return to ancient Greek and then, as a compromise, to a “purer” form (katharevousa) of the language, purged of foreign loan-­words.166 On the other side, the clergy and the faithful baulked at association with the pagan culture of antiquity, pointing out that the Greek language had been preserved over the centuries only through its use in the Christian liturgy. Within the Romeic mode of self-­identification, the Orthodox Christian religion outweighed linguistic considerations. Despite the installation of a Bavarian monarchy that idealized the Classical past and therefore championed the western Hellenic model within its nation-­ building efforts, in many aspects of diurnal life, including dress and speech, the Hellenic and the Romeic coexisted somewhat uneasily throughout much of the nineteenth ­century.167 Charles Stewart has even argued that they involved dif­fer­ent experiences of temporality. In its espousal of Enlightenment ideals and Western modernity, the Hellenic model subscribes to a view of the past as a (uni)lineal progression through time, in which chronology imposes a disciplined ordering of past, pre­sent, and f­ uture. By contrast, the Romeic model operates with a historical consciousness that is more cyclical in nature.168 In terms of the national narrative, however, the credit for a synthesis between the Hellenic and Romeic traditions is normally attributed to Spyridon Zambelios, who, in 1852, coined the hybrid term Ellinochristianikos (Helleno-­Christian) and to Konstantinos Paparrigopoulos, who published his five-­volume History of the Hellenic Nation between 1860 and 1877. Inspired in part by Johann Gustav Droysen’s groundbreaking study of the Hellenistic period, Paparrigopoulos highlighted the role played by the Macedonian monarchs—­previously viewed as foreign “usurpers”—in preserving and exporting the flame of Hellenism that would withstand the Roman annexation of Greece and, ­under the tutelage of the Orthodox church, endure through the centuries of Ottoman occupation.169

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Yannis Hamilakis characterizes this new synthesis as “indigenous Hellenism” but, even more importantly, he draws attention to how “the fusion of antiquity with the Christian religion” resulted in the “sacralization of antiquities,” recasting archaeology as a “secular religion” within the national proj­ect.170 It is precisely this sacralization of antiquity and the fusion of the Hellenic and the Romeic that are captured by Kofiniotis’s description of Argos as the Bethlehem of Hellas. Kofiniotis continues in a similarly mystical tone. “Beyond Argos, the historical telescope shows nothing. From the magnificent acropolis of the splendid-­throned Danaos, the dawn of civilization ­rose and the cradle was prepared in which was accomplished the mystery of the deliverance and absolution of humanity from the darkness of ignorance and the formerly rural life.”171 The remainder of the prologue is then given over to a brief account of Argos’s history from the time of the emperor Hadrian down to the massacre of 1833—­presumably, a rough blueprint for the never-­completed second volume. The first part of the book proper deals with the topography of Argos and its environs—­its mountains and hills; rivers, lakes, and fountains; plains; climate; flora and fauna; and principal settlements. In t­ hese sections, Kofiniotis, while clearly drawing on autopsy, is heavi­ly dependent upon the accounts of ­earlier travelers, and especially ­those of German scholars. Thus, like Curtius, he conjectures that the monastery of the Concealed Virgin was constructed above the sanctuary of Hera Akraia.172 He accepts Bursian’s estimate that the ancient city was roughly twice the size of the modern town and follows Curtius in tracing the ancient city’s fortification walls and the number of its gates.173 He upholds the common belief that the church of St. George stood above the ­temple of Aphrodite, claiming that “traces are still preserved of this,” though he is as agnostic regarding the function of Baths A as he is in his interpretation of the Hadrianic nymphaeum.174 Like Paganelis, he takes pains to distinguish his own erudite understanding from that of the uneducated masses. Thus, although he associates Danae’s prison with the cistern on the Aspis, he reports the “popu­lar” (tou laou) belief that identified it with the under­g round passageways in Baths A.175 ­There follows a cata­log of antiquities in the dimarchio museum and throughout the town which is largely based on that of Milchhöfer, although—­ against the latter’s objections—­Kofiniotis prefers to identify the subject of the relief built into Tsokris’s ­house as the Argive poetess Telesilla.176 Next are sections on demography, communications, manufacture, and the topography, history, and known antiquities of other localities of the Argolid. Fi­nally, the last 345 pages (almost 70 ­percent of the entire volume) are devoted to what Kofiniotis terms the “history” of Argos although, in keeping with a common

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scholarly trend in this period, he abstains from making the modern distinction between myth and history. Indeed, he argues that one can detect a historical kernel in myths, which is why one of the first “events” he rec­ords is the arrival in Argos of Phoenicians from Egypt u ­ nder the command of Inachos, which he dates to 1986 BCE.177 He continues with the expedition of the Seven against Thebes, the voyage of the Argonauts, the Trojan War, and the return of the Herakleidai before turning to the wars—­historical and other­wise—­between Argos and Sparta. Much of the narrative is based directly, and not especially critically, on the extant literary testimony of familiar authors, although a number of inscriptions are invoked in a section on artists, athletes, musicians, local historians, festivals, cult, and social organ­ization. The volume ends with the Third Macedonian War of 171–168 BCE. Inevitably, perhaps, A History of Argos is not without its flaws. At one point, Kofiniotis seems to get confused and conflates the separate sanctuaries of Apollo Lykeios and Apollo Deiradiotis (Pythaeus).178 Elsewhere, he discusses the Archaic inscription (IG 4 614) noted by Gell but is unsure w ­ hether it is to be found in the east or the west tower of the Larisa c­ astle (it is built into the wall beside the southeast tower of the inner enceinte). And, to modern eyes at least, t­ here is a near total absence of integration of the historical narrative and the topographical and archaeological information that is presented ­earlier. It is almost as if Kofiniotis the archaeologist has ceded his place to Kofiniotis the philologist. For all that, however, Kofiniotis’s book is indicative of a newfound epichoric interest in the historical and archaeological heritage of Argos that testifies to the emergence of a local intelligent­sia in the last de­cades of the nineteenth c­ entury.

The Argive Danaos Society Symptomatic of this cultural awakening was the establishment, two years ­after A History of Argos was published, of the Argive Danaos Society (Syllogos Argion “o Danaos”). The society was the brainchild of Christos Papaïkonomos. Born in Levidi in Arkadia in 1852, Papaïkonomos graduated in theology from the University of Athens in 1886 and became a m ­ iddle school principal in Argos in 1889. On October 16 / 28, 1894, around one hundred of the more affluent citizens of Argos—­lawyers, doctors, pharmacists, school teachers and university professors, merchants, landowners, and businessmen—­attended an inaugural meeting in the recently restored Kapodistrian First School, where they signed the charter that would receive royal approval on December 2 / 14. According to Article 2 of the charter, the society’s goal was the “joint collaboration of its members for the

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spiritual and moral promotion of the ­people and the relief of the destitute.”179 The first elections took place on January 22 / February 3, 1895, with Papaïkonomos chosen as president and Vardouniotis as vice-­president. The board of governors comprised professionals such as a l­awyer (Dimitrios Marousis) and a pharmacist (Nikolaos Sianopoulos), as well as a wealthy landowner (Georgios Prinos) and several merchants, including Vasilios Mavrakis, who owned and operated a wine shop and distillery that still stands on Vasileos Konstantinou Street.180 Initially, meetings, which consisted of lectures and readings, w ­ ere held on Sundays in the Kapodistrian School, although it quickly became overcrowded and ­there w ­ ere complaints that the chairs ­were too small for adults! In 1898, meetings ­were transferred to the nearby Maragou Theater.181 In the meantime, steps ­were taken to establish a permanent home for the Argive Danaos Society. In May 1895, Georgios Lykourizas, a merchant who was on the board of governors of the society, donated half of his own plot of land, worth approximately 3,000 drachmas, on what is now Angeli Bobou Street. With a donation of 1,000 drachmas by Mavrakis, a design for the new building was drawn up by Ifikratis Kokidis, who had designed similar premises for the Parnassos Society in Athens. The foundation stone was laid on June 9 / 21, 1896, but work was briefly suspended that autumn while additional donations w ­ ere sought—­some from expatriate Argives, both in Greece and abroad.182 By spring 1897, the first floor had been completed but funds again ran out and the situation was exacerbated by the disastrous Thirty Days’ War against Turkey in April/May and the economic crisis that ensued. Fortunately, a donation of 1,000 drachmas by Dimitrios Vlachos from Kourtaki in February, 1898 allowed work to continue, while the completion of the building was assured by a bequest of 10,000 drachmas from the estate of Dimitrios Katsambas in August and an additional 10,000 drachmas from the municipality of Argos. The new premises of the Argive Danaos Society (figure 21) ­were officially inaugurated on May 3 / 16, 1900, the feast day of St. Peter the Thaumaturge, though only twenty drachmas still remained in the society’s account.183 At least two years ­earlier, the society had begun to build up a library—­a task that was greatly facilitated by a large donation of books from Grigorios Maraslis, the mayor of Odessa—­while, from 1900 ­until 1973, the society’s building hosted eve­ning classes for underprivileged students.184 The intellectual interests of the membership of the Argive Danaos Society, and especially of its theologically minded president, are vividly reflected in the homonymous newspaper that the society published (the e­ arlier newspaper Danaos had been discontinued ten years ­earlier). In its inaugural issue, published on Christmas Day 1895, Papaïkonomos explains that the newspaper ­will

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Figure 21.  The premises of the Argive Danaos Society.

focus on articles about social, moral, and religious issues as well as farming and animal husbandry not only in Argos but throughout the eparchy.185 Indeed, for the almost ten years of its existence, Konstantinos Danousis has calculated that about 32 ­percent of lead articles in Danaos concerned religious or ecclesiastical issues while around 27 ­percent documented the activities of the society; among minor notices, religion accounted for 31  ­percent and farming ­matters for around 14 ­percent of the articles.186 Very ­little attention is given to Argos’s archaeological heritage, though t­here is a brief mention of Christos Tsountas’s excavations at Mycenae.187 Issues 2–6 carry short articles about the legendary kings of Argos—­including, of course, Danaos—­but when ­there are rec­ords of

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society lectures on more historical topics, t­ hese tend to concern the very recent past.188 On June 16 / 28, 1896, the paper reported that a new café named the Telesillion, ­under the direction of Dimitrios Armatas, had opened near the Hellenistic theater.189 It is tempting to suppose that this was a direct consequence of a revived interest in the ancient poetess in the wake of Kofiniotis’s History of Argos and the illustration that he provides of the Telesilla relief. Unfortunately, however, the café was a casualty of a devastating wildfire that consumed it within two months of its opening—to the apparent, and inexplicable, delight of the editorial committee.190 Publication of Danaos had been suspended over the summer of 1900, when the theft of antiquities from the dimarchio had occurred, though it had resumed by March, when an account is given of how the stolen items ­were recovered.191 In the autumn of 1900, Vardouniotis left the Argive Danaos Society to found a new society and its accompanying newspaper, both of which ­were called Inachos. The move may have been prompted by restlessness: ­after all, this was the fourth newspaper that Vardouniotis had edited. ­There is, however, some reason to suppose that it was a reaction to the more Christian Orthodox orientation that Papaïkonomos had impressed upon the direction of the Argive Danaos Society and Danaos—­especially since Vardouniotis takes pains to define his new society as laïkos (“popu­lar” but ­here, almost certainly, with the sense of “secular”).192 In the first issue of Inachos (December 9 / 22, 1900), Vardouniotis explains that the society was originally founded on May 21 / June 3, 1900, ­under the name Pezoporikos, but was renamed the Inachos Secular Society (Laïkos Syllogos “Inachos”) on October 1 / 14, with the first meeting taking place at the Kapodistrian First School on October  29 / November  11. Its self-­proclaimed goal was the “intellectual and social betterment of the p­ eople”—­note that ­there is no reference to religion or spirituality—­and, according to the paper’s editorial, it would distinguish itself from other learned socie­ties by its emphasis on excursions of geo­graph­i­cal, historical, and archaeological interest.193 The Inachos society was to be short-­lived but it is notable that it was its representatives, and not ­those of the Argive Danaos Society, who welcomed the French activist and journalist Juliette Adam (Lambert) on her visit to Argos on March 6 / 19, 1901. Inachos describes how the celebrity guest was accompanied on open wagons to the Hellenistic theater and then to the source of the River Erasinos at Kefalari before returning to Argos to visit a Roman statue that had been recently unearthed in what was thought to be the ancient agora.194 The newspaper would soon, however, be caught up in a new frenzy of excitement concerning the archaeological heritage of Argos—­one that would also even capture the imagination of Danaos. Once again, this new chapter was precipitated by the intervention in local affairs of a foreigner.

Ch a p ter  5

A New Age of Archaeological Heritage

The last two de­cades of the nineteenth c­ entury witnessed a mea­sur­able increase in appreciation for Argos’s archaeological heritage that seems to have been driven primarily by local press coverage regarding antiquities and by the publication of Ioannis Kofiniotis’s History of Argos. Although Kofiniotis was not a native son of the town, he was connected to it by marriage and his friendship with Dimitrios Vardouniotis inspired a new interest in the past in which the Romeic was fused with the Hellenic and Argos’s epichoric history could find a place in the larger national narrative that had been constructed. The foundation of both the Argive Danaos Society and the short-­lived Inachos Society heralds the emergence of a local intelligent­sia that served as a steward for the town’s heritage. At the same time, however, ­there is ­little evidence that such antiquarian interests extended far beyond the bounds of that rather narrow intelligent­sia. What was needed was an impetus that would convert more of the town’s residents into archaeological stakeholders and that impetus was provided by a Dutch philhellene. (Carl) Wilhelm Vollgraff was born June 5, 1876, at Haarlem in the Netherlands.1 In 1893, he was enrolled in the Faculty of Letters at the F ­ ree University of Brussels—­where his f­ather, Johann Christoph Vollgraff, was professor of Latin—­and earned his Dutch baccalaureate the following year. A ­ fter graduating in 1896 from the University of Utrecht, he went on to study with Friedrich Leo, Georg Busolt, and Ulrich von Wilamowitz-­Moellendorff at the University 133

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of Göttingen. In 1897, however, he followed Wilamowitz to the University of Berlin, where he also had as a teacher Hermann Diels. His first appointment was in 1903, as a lecturer in Greek and Roman my­thol­ogy and the topography of Greece at the University of Utrecht, where he also served as a conservator of antiquities in the collection of the Utrecht Province Society of Arts and Sciences. In 1908, he was appointed professor of ancient Greek language and lit­er­ a­ture at the University of Groningen a­ fter which, in 1917, he succeeded his ­father as chair of Greek at the University of Utrecht, where he would teach ­until his retirement in 1946—an occasion marked by his investiture as a Chevalier into the French Légion d’honneur. Vollgraff died in Huis-­ter-­Heide, near Utrecht, on October 20, 1967, at the age of 91. Vollgraff ’s early education in the Low Countries was oriented predominantly ­toward ancient lit­er­a­ture: in Brussels, he was taught by Alfons Willems, an expert on Aristophanes, and the philologist Henrik van Herwerden was his mentor at Utrecht. Throughout a long ­career, Vollgraff published numerous articles on Greek authors (e.g., Sophokles, Gorgias, Korinna, Menander, Theokritos, and Kallimachos, as well as Philodemos’s Delphic Paian to Dionysos) but his doctoral dissertation addressed mythopoiesis in Ovid and it is this that formed the basis of a 1909 monograph concerning the influence of the Hellenistic poet Nikandros of Kolophon on the Augustan poet.2 His studies in Germany, however, introduced him to a range of approaches that constituted the discipline of Altertumswissenschaft, including epigraphy, linguistics, philosophy, history, and especially archaeology. His archaeological interests ­were not l­ imited to Greece—­most of the antiquities in the collection at Utrecht ­were of Roman provenance and, from the 1930s, he began conducting excavations beneath the cathedral square of the Dutch city—­but his expertise in Greek epigraphy, dialectology, history, topography, and archaeology meant that he was ideally equipped to rediscover the buried past of Argos. His chance came in 1901 when, at the age of twenty-­five, he took up a three-­year membership of the École Française d’Athènes—­the first Dutchman to be admitted to the foreigners’ section that the school’s director, Théophile Homolle, had established the previous year.

The Campaign of 1902 ­ nder the first entry in his journal of the excavations at Argos, Vollgraff notes U that he arrived in Argos on the 1 p.m. train on Tuesday, May 14 / 27, 1902, and spent the after­noon on the Aspis hill, where he collected predominantly prehistoric sherds.3 According to Vasilis Dorovinis, his intention was not only to

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conduct excavations but also to compile a preliminary inventory of antiquities ­housed in the museum in the dimarchio as well as throughout the town.4 ­There are three sources of information for Vollgraff ’s archaeological campaigns at Argos, each of which pre­sents its own methodological challenges. First, ­there are the published reports, most of which took the form of articles in the official periodical of the École Française d’Athènes, the Bulletin de Correspondance Hellénique. ­Because ­these are often the product of extended reflection subsequent to fieldwork, including specialized study of the material unearthed, they sometimes appeared many years a­ fter the a­ ctual excavation. An extreme example is the full publication of the sanctuary of Apollo Pythaeus, which only appeared in print in 1956—­fifty-­four years a­ fter the first excavation ­there.5 In other words, the extent to which Vollgraff ’s initial experiences w ­ ere ­shaped by subsequent developments or interventions is not always clear and rarely spelled out. Second, ­there is Vollgraff ’s own journal of his campaigns at Argos, which at least has the advantage of immediacy, although the degree of detailed description fluctuates noticeably and generally decreases as each season progresses; t­ here are many daily entries that simply read “same as yesterday.” Third, t­ here are reports in the local press, many of which have been con­ve­niently collected by Dorovinis.6 As might be expected, ­these tend to focus on the less mundane findings that came to light and are generally less circumspect than Vollgraff ’s journal. Their real value lies in the evidence they provide for local reactions to Vollgraff ’s archaeological work at Argos. On May 15 / 28, 1902, Vollgraff dug his first trench on the summit of the Aspis, just to the southwest of the chapel of Profitis Ilias. His typical procedure was first to dig what he called “attack trenches” that w ­ ere long and narrow—­this first trench, oriented SSW–­NNE, was 26 m long and 80 cm wide. He would often, ­after a few days, then sink another trench at an acute or right ­angle to the first. When he came across walls, as he did on this first day of excavation, he would follow them and, if he deemed the remains significant, he would then extend the area of the dig. Although he recorded the depth at which cultural features ­were found, he was not especially interested in stratigraphy. The first trench on the summit of the Aspis was dug to a depth of only 40 cm, though that was due not to stratigraphic dictates but to the fact that ­there was only a thin layer of soil above bedrock h ­ ere. This means that the dates he assigned to his material ­were almost always derived from stylistic considerations.7 On the first day of the 1902 season, Vollgraff employed ten local workmen and, for the first five weeks of the season, anywhere between nine and sixteen laborers would be working each day, save for Sundays and religious festivals such as the feasts of St. Constantine (May 21 / June 3), the

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Ascension (May 23 / June 5), or Pentecost ( June 2–3 / 15–16).8 However, on June 19 / July 2, he left for a week’s stay in Athens, where he raised further funds for the excavation. On his return, with the funds secured, he employed between twenty-­six and thirty-­two workers and, by July 15 / 28, no fewer than forty-­six laborers ­were digging for him. Some of the funding for the excavations came from subsidies from the Dutch government but most was given by the Dutch l­ awyer, entrepreneur, and philanthropist Adriaan Eliza Herman Goekoop; the École Française provided neither funding nor supervision.9 Over the course of a l­ittle more than eight weeks, Vollgraff uncovered stretches of three sets of fortifications: (1) a circular wall of irregular stones, about 10 m southwest of the chapel; (2) another circular wall in what he describes as “cyclopean” masonry, about 100 m northeast of the chapel; and (3) further to the northeast, a triangular bastion in polygonal masonry that was associated with one semicircular and two square towers.10 Five years l­ater, when Vollgraff published his first preliminary report of the excavations on the summit of the Aspis, he would identify the wall southwest of the chapel as belonging to the “first prehistoric” fortification cir­cuit and the cyclopean wall as the “second prehistoric” fortification cir­cuit, both of which should date to around 2000 BCE or a l­ittle ­earlier and could therefore be considered pre-­ Mycenaean. The polygonal wall, on the other hand, was deemed to be a “Hellenic” addition that was tentatively dated to the sixth ­century BCE.11 Initially, however, at the time of excavation, Vollgraff believed the cyclopean wall to be Mycenaean and the remains of buildings discovered within the enceinte as belonging to a Mycenaean palace.12 As Marcel Piérart has pointed out, Vollgraff was almost certainly influenced by his former teacher, Wilamowitz, who had argued that the earliest settlement at Argos ­ought to be on the summit of the Aspis rather than the Larisa, as well as by Ioannis Kofiniotis, who held the same opinion and with whose History of Argos Vollgraff was very well acquainted.13 Meanwhile, on May 31 / June 13, work began clearing the cistern, south of the chapel, that ­earlier travelers such as Leake and Bursian had associated with Pausanias’s description of the prison of Danae.14 Vollgraff also began digging at the southwest foot of the Aspis, where the Deiras ridge connects it to the Larisa. On May 27 / June 9, he dug a sounding in which he found two large white stone blocks and two terracotta pavements that he would l­ ater tentatively associate with the city’s Deiras gate.15 Two days ­later, he had his workers clear the dromos (entrance passageway) to a Mycenaean rock-­cut chamber tomb at the entrance to the town, although on May 30 / June 12, the local prefect of antiquities, Dimitrios Vardouniotis, arrived with the police to halt the excavation. The following morning, Vollgraff ’s workmen attempted to resume work on the chamber tomb but at 8 a.m., a­ fter

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two hours of l­abor, the police arrived again and shut down the operation.16 Presumably, though he does not say, Vollgraff had not secured all the necessary permissions for the exploration, which almost certainly included supervision by an official working on behalf of the state. At 8 a.m. on June 4 / 17, however, Andreas Skias, an ephor of antiquities for the Archaeological Ser­vice, arrived to oversee the work, which was then allowed to proceed without further interruption.17 Over the next two weeks, Vollgraff would clear and excavate a further four chamber tombs. The roof of the sepulchral chambers had collapsed in Tombs 2 and 3 and was damaged in Tomb 1 but remained largely intact in Tomb 4 as well as in Tomb 5, which was the largest of the group; all had been robbed. He also discovered a series of wells in the vicinity of Tombs 3 and 4, which he attributed to a l­ater settlement whose residents w ­ ere unaware of the existence of the Mycenaean cemetery.18 A third area of activity was above the Mycenaean cemetery, on the southwest slope of the Aspis. On July 24 / August 6, Vollgraff dug two trenches—­ one was 22 m long and oriented north-­south, the other was 39 m long, at a right ­angle to the first. Immediately, he found walls of a Byzantine building and foundations of two Hellenic (i.e., Classical) buildings; two days ­later, a third Hellenic building with polygonal foundations was found ­after the initial trenches w ­ ere extended. On August 2 / 15, while clearing inside the polygonal foundations, he discovered a deep cistern. By August 5 / 18, he had recognized that the Byzantine walls belonged to an Early Christian basilica; he also suspected that the first two Hellenic buildings might be t­ emples, though from August 10 / 23 he began to conjecture that the more easterly of the two might instead be a bouleuterion (council chamber). Vollgraff ’s journal ventures no more precise identification for the complex but, by the 1903 season, he had persuaded himself that the structures belonged to the sanctuary of Apollo Pythaeus.19 The identification was based in part on Pausanias’s description (2.24.1–2) of the sanctuaries of Apollo Pythaeus and Athena Oxyderkes on the road leading up to the Larisa but primarily by references to the deity on inscriptions found in a large rectangular cistern to the west of the Byzantine basilica.20 Not all of Vollgraff ’s investigations yielded results. In an attempt to locate the stadium, which Pausanias (2.24.2) notes immediately ­after the sanctuary of Athena Oxyderkes, he opened a trench to the west of the sanctuary of Apollo Pythaeus but found only traces of a wall and what he interpreted as some steps before backfilling the trench on what would turn out to be the last day of the season.21 Between August 16 / 29 and August 20 / September 2, a team of workers dug in the courtyard of a property belonging to a Mr. Katsannis, in the Xirias neighborhood (the northeastern part of the town), but

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found nothing of interest.22 And, while the vast majority of archaeological activity was focused to the north of the town, a trench was dug beneath the polygonal wall that serves as a terrace for the Hadrianic nymphaeum, though all that was found w ­ ere rock-­cuttings for foundations.23 The season ended abruptly on August 21 / September 3: although Vollgraff ’s journal carries the date heading for August 22 / September 4, t­ here is only a blank page that accompanies it. According to the Argive newspaper Mykine, the season was terminated due to lack of funds.24

Local Reactions Vollgraff ’s work was followed by the local press with interest but perhaps also a ­little suspicion. Just five days ­after his arrival, Mykine announced his preliminary findings on the summit of the Aspis, opining sarcastically—­and without much ethnic precision—­that “it is fortunate that French and German archaeologists work tirelessly, expending copious amounts of money . . . ​­because apparently we Greeks of ­today are not worthy of such work but rather of other, more impor­tant business.”25 The following week’s issue presented a detailed update on Vollgraff ’s findings but urged both the government and the Archaeological Society of Athens to send an archaeologist who might take mea­sures for the guarding of the excavation sites. The paper also castigated the fact that, a­ fter ­every excavation, archaeological sites ­were left to their own destiny while the provinces ­were stripped of their finds, which ­were transported to Athens—­ undoubtedly a reaction to the recent transfer of the finer artifacts from the Argos museum to the National Archaeological Museum. The paper went on to recommend that excavations should be carried out with the contribution of the municipalities and the residents of the provinces, pointing out that “each year, many millions in revenue come into Italy from vari­ous travelers; much more could come into Greece if we ­were just a ­little affectionate t­ oward our antiquities and if just a l­ittle of the entrepreneurial spirit could prevail among us.”26 In other words, the paper was advocating a mutually beneficial partnership between local and national interests. The next edition of Mykine briefly announced the discovery of Tombs 1–4  in the Mycenaean cemetery while the issue for June 9 / 22 noted the arrival of Skias as well as the unearthing of the walls of a “large palace” on the Aspis.27 On June 16 / 29, Mykine reported on the plaster and wall paintings discovered in Tomb 5 but claimed that what had been unearthed had been largely thanks to the ­earlier excavations of Ioannis Kofiniotis.28 Mykine for June 23 / July 6 noted with excitement that, up to then, no excavations had taken place within the town—as opposed to on its fringes (i.e., the

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Aspis or the Hellenistic theater). But it suggested that ­great works of art would come to light if excavations w ­ ere to take place in the Tabakika neighborhood (the junction of Danaou Street and Theatrou Street) or the threshing floors of Panagia, “where the ancient agora of Argos is found” and added that the town of Argos should be grateful to Vollgraff for beginning to reveal the ancient world.29 The importance of this information resides in the fact that it indicates a common local knowledge regarding the location of the ancient civic center, even prior to the commencement of Vollgraff ’s excavations ­there the following year. Indeed, in December 1900, while digging in the courtyard of his ­house “by the ancient agora,” a Mr. Psiroyiannis had discovered a large headless marble statue of a man as well as a base inscribed in honor of Phosphorios, the proconsul of the Roman province of Achaea.30 This is even more surprising ­because Kofiniotis had conjectured that the ancient agora of Argos should prob­ably be located beneath St. Peter’s Square.31 The following week’s edition reported Vollgraff ’s return from his fund­rais­ing visit to Athens, accompanied by a “famous Danish artist” (Halvor Bagge) who would copy the wall paintings that had been brought to light in the Mycenaean necropolis on the Deiras.32 Inachos, the newspaper that Vardouniotis had founded, had been absent from the newsstands since January. When it resumed publication on July 6 / 19, its first three pages ­were dedicated to Vollgraff ’s excavations. Unsurprisingly, Vardouniotis notes his own oversight of the dig, in his capacity as prefect of antiquities at Argos, alongside the philology student Christos Kourouniotis and the state official Andreas Skias. He also notes that Vollgraff ’s campaign on the Aspis was aimed at finding “the palaces of the most ancient kings of Argos,” adding that t­ hese ­were the first orderly and scientific excavations to have taken place at Argos.33 Meanwhile, Mykine published three further but brief updates on the first excavation season, including the information that Panagiotis Kavvadias, the ephor general of the Archaeological Ser­vice, had visited Argos and offered his opinion on the excavations.34 It also denounced the news that the finds Vollgraff had unearthed ­were to be transported to Athens.35 Indeed, Vollgraff ’s excavations seem to have encouraged Vardouniotis to renew his efforts ­toward the preservation of Argos’s archaeological heritage. The July 6 / 19, 1903, edition of Inachos notes that, ­under the oversight of the mayor, Emmanouil Roussos, the room in the dimarchio in which local antiquities ­were displayed had been renovated and its doors reinforced for security—­a necessity in the wake of the theft three years e­ arlier, which had led to the temporary closure of the museum.36 The collection had also been enriched by the addition of newly found antiquities. The paper goes on to report attempts to curb illicit excavation and acquisition of artifacts. In one case,

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Vardouniotis had discovered that impor­tant antiquities ­were being hidden in the ­house of Theodoros Kontoyiannis and had managed, with the help of a magistrate, to confiscate and convey to the museum two valuable reliefs, several terracotta figurines, vases, and coins. In another case, the police had confiscated two large vases from a local ­woman and similarly deposited them in the museum. The paper adds that the collection in the dimarchio was in the pro­ cess of being reclassified and reordered, with a new cata­log in preparation.37 The interest that Vollgraff ’s first season of excavations awoke even spread to the Argive Danaos Society’s own newspaper, although it had devoted l­ittle attention previously to Argos’s archaeological heritage. For financial reasons, Danaos had not appeared since May 1902—in fact, the last issue had come out on the very day Vollgraff began his excavations. When it returned, on January 5 / 18, 1903, it carried a story on its second page regarding Vollgraff ’s dig on the Aspis—­“the first systematic excavations to be carried out in Argos since Kofiniotis’s excavations in the amphitheater and on Mount Lykoni.” The paper acknowledged the generous funding of Goekoop and expressed confidence that the finds that ­were emerging from the excavations would attract foreign travelers to the town. Part of this confidence was due to the fact that the excavations had been reported widely—­not only in the Athenian press but also in Belgian and German newspapers.38 The next issue of Danaos gives details about the walls uncovered on the Aspis as well as the buildings “that are certainly the palaces of the first kings of Argos,” as well as the five Mycenaean chamber tombs excavated on the Deiras.39 Issue 132 for March 14 / 27 starts by expressing gratitude to Vollgraff—­who, it notes, was an honorary member of the Argive Danaos Society—­for “uncovering the ancient monuments of our glorious and historic town” and for widely publicizing his finds in lectures both in the Netherlands and at the École Française d’Athènes, “that stirred the interest of the entire scientific world of Athens.” It then goes on to describe the collapse of one of the chamber tombs on the Deiras and the destruction of its wall paintings—­which, fortunately, Bagge had been able to copy before the accident.40 Vollgraff ’s interventions ­were not, however, without controversy. Mykine for September 15 / 28 reports that Vollgraff had sent a letter to the mayor of Argos, requesting that the chapel of Profitis Ilias on the summit of the Aspis be demolished in order to better facilitate excavation.41 The issue was taken up a few months l­ater by Inachos, which feigns disbelief at what it characterizes as a “rumor,” and points out that the “old chapel” (actually, it prob­ably dates only to the early eigh­teenth c­ entury) is popu­lar with the town’s residents, who would greatly resent its destruction. In an especially damning indictment, the author—­prob­ably Vardouniotis himself—­goes on to claim that the chapel’s

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de­mo­li­tion would be pointless ­because the ­whole surrounding area had already been excavated and “as far as we are concerned, the excavations on the Aspis are not worthy of much count, given the absence of ancient written testimony, and have not provided anything definite or clear for archaeology.”42 The message is clear: although virtually all archaeology in this period was driven by ancient literary sources, Schliemann’s excavations of prehistoric Mycenae or Tiryns could at least appeal to ­those cities’ rich mythological inheritance—­ something that was not available for the treeless hill to the north of the town, despite Vollgraff ’s initial hopes of locating the palace of the ancient kings of Argos.43 Interestingly, Vollgraff would many de­cades ­later recount an incident that he dates to 1916, when he disagreed with a Greek artillery officer, A. S. Arvanitopoulos. The latter had suggested removing the foundations of the Byzantine church on the southwest flank of the Aspis, which he considered “useless and of no educational value,” in order to reveal the antiquities buried beneath—­a clear case of championing the Hellenic over the Romeic. The classically educated Vollgraff might have been expected to agree. Instead, he rec­ords his response as follows: On the other hand, it is necessary to say—­and this is a conviction that has begun to prevail for around twenty years now—­that the study of early Christian and medieval churches is of the utmost interest for the history of Greece as much as for that of architecture. Byzantine basilicas are national monuments par excellence; even in places where they have only left what are at first sight insignificant traces, they reflect the history of a long period where the Greek ­people, harshly afflicted by the irruption of uncultivated tribes, managed nevertheless to preserve its own character and moral superiority.44 Yet what Vollgraff does not reveal ­here is that less than twenty years ­earlier, while clearing the interior of the ­castle on the Larisa, he had removed the remains of a mosque, a Catholic church, and the residence of the Venetian governor, and had even broken through the floor of the twelfth-­century Byzantine church.45 Some indication of the chagrin that Vollgraff experienced at the refusal to allow him to demolish the chapel of Profitis Ilias is provided by a comment that he seems to have added in blue ink, on the first page of his journal. Dated October 14, 1952, it reads: “Attention! This chapel has been demolished and replaced by another that is larger and not in the same place.” Issue 11 of Inachos carries another article, entitled “The Kidnapping of the Gods.” In it, the author—­prob­ably Vardouniotis again—­complains that only the worthless finds from the excavations are being deposited in the museum

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at Argos, while Vollgraff refuses to hand over the more valuable objects, including thirty-­five ancient coins, “contrary to the specific and clear provision of the law . . . ​and following the appeals and protests of the prefect of antiquities ­there [i.e., Vardouniotis] and of the mayor.” The article goes on to state that the antiquities are said to have been transported to Athens, including two complete and exceptional marble statues—­perhaps of Asklepios and Hygieia—­ that w ­ ere found on the Aspis.46

The Campaign of 1903 Vollgraff returned to Argos by the midday train on May 18 / 31, 1903. On the following day, he resumed his excavations on the southwest slope of the Aspis in the sanctuary of Apollo Pythaeus, where he discovered what he interpreted as the baptistery belonging to the Byzantine basilica.47 On May 20 / June 2, he also unearthed the monumental staircase that belonged to the ancient phase of the sanctuary. On May 22 / June 4, however, he initiated a new dig to the south of the town—­precisely the area where Mykine had reminded its readers that the ancient agora was situated.48 The first trench was dug in property belonging to Christos Padouvanos, just to the east of the Hellenistic theater and 20 m south of the “Karmoyiannis” fountain that still stands at the junction of Tripoleos Street and Theatrou Street. At the eastern end of the trench, Vollgraff found a pavement of red cement, covered by a mosaic of small pebbles, as well as ceramics and fragments of red tiles. The following day, he brought to light two large tufa blocks, a Roman lamp, a further pavement, and a w ­ ater conduit while, on May 24 / June 6, the sinking of another long trench, at right ­angles to the first and skirting the southern side of Mr. Padouvanos’s threshing floor, revealed limestone foundations, oriented east-­west, which Vollgraff initially identified as part of a ­temple. Continued work unearthed parts of a cornice and, on May 29 / June 11, a poros column, 2 m tall, which seemed to be in situ. The findings from this first week of the season ­were reported in Danaos for May 29 and in Mykine for June 8.49 On June 2 / 15, work resumed on the Aspis and continued si­mul­ta­neously with the explorations in the Padouvanos plot where, on June 4 / 17, an inscription on the stylobate of the structure that Vollgraff was excavating made reference to agoranomoi or “market commissioners”—­welcome confirmation that this was indeed the ancient agora.50 By June 7 / 20, no fewer than forty-­nine columns had been unearthed in a row along the stylobate, making it clear that the building was not a t­emple but a stoa, or portico, despite a report to the contrary in the June 10 issue of Danaos. In the same newspaper article, the

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author—­who signs off as “Senex”—­eulogistically describes Vollgraff as being “as thoroughly urbane as he is indefatigable” and muses that, “­were he to be given the means to match his zeal, he would certainly unearth a new and greater Olympia—­the agora and polis of ancient Argos.”51 On June 9 / 22 and 10/23, Vollgraff dug a trench, 17 m by 1m and oriented north-­south, within the inner enceinte of the medieval ­castle on the summit of the Larisa, discovering tufa foundations. Then, on June 17 / 30, he returned to the Mycenaean cemetery on the Deiras where, over the course of the next eight days, he cleared a further three chamber tombs (Tombs 6–8), as well as a l­ ater Hellenic grave just west of the dromos of Tomb 5.52 He also noted the damage—­already announced in Danaos in March—­that had been caused to the wall paintings in Tomb 5 as a result of a rock fall provoked by heavy winter rains.53 Issue number 139 of Danaos, again signed by the pseudonymous Senex, reported on the excavations in the agora and on the Deiras ridge as well as on the summit of the Larisa, speculating that the tufa foundations might belong to the t­ emple of Zeus Larisaios, which Pausanias (2.24.3) described as crowning the hill.54 Vollgraff ’s excavations also seem to have instigated a renewed interest in the town’s past: a separate article, in the same issue, discusses the third-­century BCE tyrants of Argos, Aristippos and Aristomachos.55 By late June, Vollgraff was supervising excavations in no fewer than three locales si­mul­ta­neously, although work on the Deiras was temporarily halted ­until July 19 / August 1. The first was in the agora, where it was determined that the stoa did not follow the standard plan for this type of building but enclosed at least two sides of a square; from its northeast corner, a colonnade continued southward at a right ­angle for 23.3 m with traces of eleven columns. For this reason, it is commonly known as the “π-­shaped stoa.” The second was on the southwest slope of the Aspis, where work continued clearing what Vollgraff initially identified as a baptisterion but ­later seems to call a “chapel,” as well as on a polygonal limestone wall on a lower terrace.56 Fi­nally, work resumed on the summit of the Aspis, where a trench dug between the southeast cistern and the chapel of Profitis Ilias brought to light a narrow polygonal wall.57 On July 23 / August 5, a ninth Mycenaean chamber tomb was discovered in the Deiras necropolis and, from July  26 / August  8, work began on clearing the monumental staircase on the southwest slope of the Aspis as well as the polygonal wall on the lower terrace, which Vollgraff began tentatively assigning to the sanctuary of Athena Oxyderkes. At the end of July, two days w ­ ere spent clearing the entrance and staircase of the large polygonal terrace wall that supported the Hadrianic nymphaeum. The 1903 season ended on August 2 / 14. Vollgraff ’s journal provides very l­ittle information regarding the l­egal and bureaucratic technicalities involved in securing permission to excavate. We do,

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however, learn something from the report of the last weeks of the excavation in Danaos. The author of the column—­Senex once more—­writes that t­ here is reason to believe that f­ uture excavations ­will take place in the fields surrounding the newly unearthed stoa in the agora, provided that proprietors cease to believe that they ­will be successful in seizing a favorable opportunity for overvaluing their property. It goes on to express the wish that the municipality ­will contribute, as best it can, t­ oward the expropriation of the relevant fields in order to continue the work that is so beneficial to the local community.58 This information would seem to imply that part of the Padouvanos property had been expropriated but also that the pro­cess of compensated confiscation was neither straightforward nor inexpensive. In the coming months, Danaos would continue its serialized account of impor­tant events in Argive history, including the sixth-­century BCE strug­gle between Argos and Sparta for possession of the Thyreatid along the eastern Peloponnesian coastline, the Persian War of 480–479 BCE and Argos’s annexation of the Argive plain a ­couple of de­ cades ­later, and the story of the Epirote king Pyrrhos and the grisly end that befell him while fighting in the streets of the town.59 The last issue also reports the discovery of an inscribed votive plaque of the Roman period, depicting a young man dressed in a himation (cloak), which was found in a vineyard belonging to Apostolis Zenginis.60

The Campaign of 1904 The 1904 season began late—­largely ­because Vollgraff was also occupied that summer in digging on the island of Ithaki. He arrived in Argos on July 4 / 17 and resumed work on the southwest slope of the Aspis the following day. Intermittently over the next six weeks he would clear the monumental staircase together with a well at the top of the staircase and a deep cistern on the westernmost terrace. He also exposed more of the Byzantine basilica as well as the classical altar of Apollo and continued clearing the lower polygonal terrace wall—­though he no longer seems to associate it with the sanctuary of Athena. No further digging took place in 1904 on the summits of the Aspis or Larisa, the Deiras ridge, in the agora, or at the Hadrianic nymphaeum, but Vollgraff did conduct a number of excavations on private property throughout and outside the town. The first was on the property of the Gavrilis ­family at a locality named Magoula, near Kefalari to the south of Argos. On July 6 / 19, five workers dug a trench parallel to the Argos-­Myli road, in which they discovered a tufa column and foundations of large, dressed stone blocks.61 The dig was abandoned two

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days ­later but Vollgraff would ­later write that the foundations, which ­were associated with an Archaic votive deposit, w ­ ere prob­ ably ­ those of a ­temple—­perhaps the t­ emple of Artemis that Pausanias (2.24.5) saw to the left of the road from Lykoni to Argos.62 On July 14 / 27, he was invited to dig a test trench on the property of the mayor, Dimitrios Kouzis, on the boulevard leading from St. Peter’s Square to the theater and the Argos-­Myli road (presumably ­today’s Danaou Street).63 Over the course of four days, Vollgraff brought to light the walls of ancient ­houses, a well, and a very large stone block. A far more promising excavation commenced on July 19 / August 1 to the west of the church of St. Constantine in a plot belonging to Andreas Karatzas (who would succeed Kouzis as mayor in 1907).64 Three long trenches, the first of which was eventually dug to a depth of 5 m, uncovered Byzantine walls on tufa foundations, Byzantine tombs, a circular brick building, a mosaic pavement with a length of 50 m and a width of 7 m, and the foundations of three large ancient buildings. The trenches ­were backfilled on August 9 / 22 but, in his preliminary report on the excavation, Vollgraff tentatively identified the remains as ­those of the gymnasium of Kylarabis, which Livy (34.26) had located about 300 paces outside the southeastern city gate.65 Not all of Vollgraff ’s interventions met with similar success. On the morning of July 12 / 25, he attempted to dig a trench on property belonging to Emmanouil Ikonomou and a Mr. Kouvandzis, but was prevented from d­ oing so by one of the o ­ wners; no subsequent attempt seems to have been made. The season ended on August 14 / 27. Following the first published report ­later that year of his 1902 excavations in the Deiras cemetery in the Bulletin de Correspondance Hellénique,66 Danaos for November 5 provided a summary of the report and concluded as follows: “Congratulating, then, Mr. Vollgraff w ­ holeheartedly for his tireless exertions, let us pray that we see him again soon, carry­ing out excavations aimed at the discovery of the sacred ­temples and buildings of ancient Argos and shedding light, through their scientific study, on the history of our native town.”67 That prayer was not to be granted entirely b­ ecause Vollgraff would not, in fact, return to dig in Argos u ­ ntil the spring of 1906, a year ­after the very final issue of Danaos hit the newsstands.68

The Campaign of 1906 The 1906 season commenced on May 30 / June 12 with clearance work on the terrace supporting the Hadrianic nymphaeum, which continued intermittently for four weeks. By June 20 / July 2, the entire terrace had been cleared, while further excavations revealed a small channel that ran from the nymphaeum

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southward to the Hellenistic theater. Meanwhile, from June 5 / 18, work resumed on the southwest slope of the Aspis, where Vollgraff ’s workmen tidied up the area around the apse of the Byzantine basilica and at the foot of the terrace wall in the sanctuary of Apollo Pythaeus. From June 26 / July 9, attention focused once again on the inner enceinte of the medieval ­castle on the Larisa where, two days l­ ater, a terracotta and limestone pavement was brought to light. The major discovery of 1906, however, was made only ­after an unexplained break of eigh­teen days. On July 26 / August 8, Vollgraff began demolishing the threshing floor in the expropriated Padouvanos plot, where the large π-­shaped stoa had been unearthed three years ­earlier. On July 27 / August 9, he began clearing the southeast corner of a large limestone structure that he interpreted as a t­ emple and, over the next month, he worked both inside and outside the “­temple,” identifying its foundations on the northern side as well as its southwest corner u ­ nder the Argos-­Myli road (­today’s Tripoleos Street). He was especially struck by the fact that the southeast corner of the “­temple” seemed to abut the western end of the stoa.69 But he was also shocked at a seeming act of vandalism on the part of local residents: the four columns at the western end of the stoa had originally been discovered in situ and upright but, at some point between September 1904 and June 1906, they had been overturned and smashed “out of malevolence.”70 Indeed, tensions between Vollgraff and certain ele­ments of the local community seem to have intensified in 1906. On November 2 / 15, Argos published the following complaint: “During the last excavations that took place on the Larisa acropolis ­under the Dutch archaeologist Mr. Vollgraff, the earth that was removed was dumped on the stone battlements and has been abandoned ­there. From an archaeological point of view, this is inappropriate ­because the earth is damaging the polish of the stone and is making its archaeological value hard to discern. The same ­thing happened also with the excavations carried out by Schliemann at Mycenae, although the responsible authorities promptly took care to right the wrong.”71 The criticism also recalls the charges that Danaos had leveled against Schliemann at Tiryns twenty-­two years e­ arlier and, while ­there is no reason to disbelieve the charges, it is tempting to won­der ­whether they represent a ste­reo­type of the foreign archaeologist whose commitment to the local community lasts only as long as the excavation season. In addition to the excavations he conducted between 1902 and 1906, Vollgraff also studied a number of inscriptions which had come to light and which he was able to locate thanks to the assistance of a local ­lawyer, Xenofon Ikonomopoulos.72 Two of ­these inscriptions ­were part of the collection in the museum, while o ­ thers ­were found throughout the town and in the vicinity. For example, one was found in a field on the road to Mantinia (ancient Mantinea),

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­Table 2  Inscriptions in private possession published by Vollgraff OWNER

REFERENCE

Georgios Kanatitsas

Vollgraff 1903, 261–62 no. 3

Iannis Karasis

Vollgraff 1903, 262–63 no. 4

Mr. Kambaniaris

Vollgraff 1903, 263 nos. 5–6

Grigorios Kriemadis

Vollgraff 1903, 264 no. 8

Nikolaos Psiroyiannis

Vollgraff 1903, 264 no. 11

Iannis Paraskevopoulos

Vollgraff 1903, 264–65 no. 12

Alexandros Boulouklakis

Vollgraff 1903, 265 no. 13

Nikolaos Lagos

Vollgraff 1903, 265 no. 14

Nikolaos Vetropoulos

Vollgraff 1903, 265 no. 16

The w ­ idow Marina

Vollgraff 1903, 265–66 no. 17

Georgios Koutsimbas

Vollgraff 1904b, 420 no. 2

Nikolaos Georgandas

Vollgraff 1904b, 420 no. 3

Panagiotis Vathis

Vollgraff 1904b, 420 nos. 4–5

Georgios Giatrakos

Vollgraff 1904b, 421–24 no. 6

Georgios Frantsolas

Vollgraff 1904b, 424–29 nos. 7, 10

Dimitrios Kalis

Vollgraff 1909a, 448–49 no. 16

Andreas Karatzas (­lawyer; mayor, 1907–1914)

Vollgraff 1909a, 449–50 nos. 17–18, 21

Dimitrios Antenopoulos

Vollgraff 1909a, 449 no. 19

Panayiotis Kolias

Vollgraff 1909a, 450 no. 20

Apostolis Zenginis

Vollgraff 1909a, 458–61 no. 24

Dimitrios Mitropoulos

Vollgraff 1909a, 461–66 no. 26

Dimitrios Kouzis (doctor; mayor, 1903–1907)

Vollgraff 1944, 391 no. 1, 397 no. 6

Ioannis Boubourekas

Vollgraff 1944, 395–96 no. 2

Ioannis Boubourelias

Vollgraff 1944, 402–3 no. 13

about thirty minutes outside the town; another was incorporated into a wall in the southeastern sector of the town; and an inscribed statue base had been built into the church of St. Kyriaki.73 The vast majority, however, of the inscriptions Vollgraff examined and published ­were in private hands (­table 2), including an inscribed copy of the impor­tant letter that the Argives sent to Cilician Aigeai around 200 CE in which they celebrate the historic kinship between the two cities. The inscription was found built into a Byzantine wall in the area of the agora in a field belonging to Georgios Giatrakos.74 Vollgraff ’s love of Greek philology has already been noted. Piérart suggests that his explorations at Argos ­were conducted in the hope of recovering the Homeric city.75 ­There may be some truth to this: a­ fter all, his most prominent financial backer, Goekoop, who funded not only Vollgraff ’s work in Argos and Ithaki but also Wilhelm Dörpfeld’s excavations on Lef kada, had an almost

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Schliemannesque obsession with unearthing Homer’s Greece.76 In real­ity, however, Homer has precious l­ittle to say about the ancient city of Argos, other than that it was ruled jointly by Diomedes, Sthenelos, and Euryalos.77 More commonly, the toponym is employed in the Homeric epics to denote the w ­ hole Argive plain or even the Peloponnese generally rather than the city.78 If, then, it was Vollgraff ’s hope to locate on the summit of the Aspis the “palaces of the most ancient kings of Argos,” the kings he had in mind ­were not Homeric leaders but the even e­ arlier legendary kings such as Phoroneus, Danaos, or Akrisios who are described by Pausanias (2.15–16) and, indeed, Pausanias is the principal guiding literary light for Vollgraff—as he was for generations of ­earlier travelers.79 Nowhere is this more evident than in a note that Vollgraff published in the 1907 issue of the Bulletin de Correspondance Hellénique on the topography of the Greek city. Thus, in discussing the tufa foundations that he uncovered within the inner enceinte of the medieval fortifications on the Larisa, he cites Pausanias (2.24.3) to infer that they prob­ably belong to the t­emple of ­either Zeus Larisaios or Athena Polias. He notes how ­earlier travelers associated the southeast and southwest cisterns on the Aspis with the edifice that local residents pointed out to Pausanias (2.23.7) as the prison chamber of Danae. Again in keeping with e­ arlier travelers, he assumes that the monastery of the Concealed Virgin stands on the spot where Pausanias (2.24.1–2) noted the sanctuary of Hera Akraia on his way up to the Larisa, while the same passage is invoked to justify his location of the stadium to the northwest of the Aspis. Pausanias’s approach to Argos, in which he crosses only the River Inachos (2.18.3) is cited in support of Vollgraff ’s contention—­almost certainly correct—­that, in antiquity, the junction between the Inachos and Charadros (Xirias) rivers was further to the north.80 And, when it comes to the southern sector of the town, where the ancient agora had been unearthed, Vollgraff provides his own schematic illustration of how the monuments described by Pausanias (2.19.3–22.7) should have been disposed along the four sides of the agora, allowing him seemingly to vindicate Curtius’s suggestion that the Kriterion should be identified with the Hadrianic nymphaeum.81 Fi­nally, noting that Pausanias (2.20.8) had apparently placed the sanctuary of Aphrodite “above” (ὑπὲρ) the theater, he endorses the view of Gell and Clarke that it should be found at the church of St. George, despite t­ here no longer existing any ancient remains on the spot.82 Western travelers continued to visit Argos in the early 1900s though their impressions are not radically dif­fer­ent from ­those expressed in the previous de­cades. The fifth edition of a popu­lar German travel guide (Meyers Reisebücher) to Greece and Asia Minor, published in 1901, describes broad, unpaved streets and ­humble ­houses surrounded by gardens, and this portrayal is echoed by

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the third (En­glish) edition of the more famous Baedeker guides, which described Argos as looking more like a village than a town—at least from a distance.83 In a similar vein, the American editor Philip Sanford Marden states that “Argos is a rather large place, but decidedly unattractive save for its many ­little gardens,” before ­going on to recount how he was bombarded with nosegays by ­children hoping for some lepta (small-­denomination coins).84 Indeed, Georgios Kondis has noted that, even a­ fter the arrival of ser­vices, industries, and a basic infrastructure in the late nineteenth ­century, Argos never ­really achieved a complete urbanization, remaining at best “semiurbanized.”85 Baedeker’s guide informs its readers that through trains from Athens to Argos arrive twice a day and describes two ­hotels on St. Peter’s Square—­the Agamemnon and the Danaos, “of no very comfortable character”—­but notes that the “foreigners’ h ­ otel” (i.e., the Saganas property) “is rather better.”86 The German educator Ernst Reisinger, who visited Argos somewhere around 1910, offers a graphic description of how, at the khan in which he was staying, he had to plug gaps in the walls with cloths and blankets to protect against the draft.87 Meyer’s guidebook also refers to the Danaos h ­ otel but names the other as the Philippos, adding that accommodation can also be found in vari­ous coffee h ­ ouses and “international” restaurants—­presumably he has the Saganas ­hotel and restaurant in mind. He also notes that the local tobacco is highly esteemed.88 Visitors w ­ ere urged to visit the Hellenistic theater and the Roman brick building in front of it (Baths A) as well as the Hadrianic nymphaeum and the Larisa, though Meyer also describes the cisterns on the Aspis and their pos­si­ble connection with the prison of Danae.89 Mention is made of Kofiniotis’s excavations in the theater, whereas the more recently updated Baedeker guide discusses Vollgraff ’s ongoing excavations on the Aspis, which had revealed a cyclopean fortress wall and the foundations of an ancient “megaron.”90 The dyspeptic Marden claims that time precluded a visit to any monument save the theater, which he describes as “sadly grass-­grown,” but does offer the information that the monastery of the Concealed Virgin had accidentally been set on fire by overenthusiastic celebrants on Easter Sunday, 1906.91 The museum in the dimarchio is noted briefly, but Meyer’s guidebook cautions that many of the items it once ­housed have now been transferred to Athens, while Baedeker dismisses it as “an unimportant museum of reliefs and inscriptions.”92

A Pause for Reflection Vollgraff did not resume his excavations in Argos ­until 1912 but a five-­page report on the first four seasons appeared in the Argolikon Imerologion (Argolic

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almanac) for 1910, published by the Society of Argives in Athens ­under the presidency of Kofiniotis. The author of the article, Georgios Simitzopoulos, begins by noting the magnificence of ancient Argos and its strug­gle with Sparta for primacy within the Peloponnese. He continues: “someone reading Pausanias feels giddy in front of the infinitude of the buildings of ancient Argos. Unfortunately, however, nothing of ­these has been preserved; rather, they have all been swept away by the effects of nature, of time, and of the barbarians who inundated Greece on many occasions.”93 Vollgraff himself is described as an “indefatigable initiate of archaeology and a warm admirer of ancient Argos,” who published the results of his excavations on the Aspis and elsewhere in the Bulletin de Correspondance Hellénique, “expressing wise observations from long experience and deep knowledge of archaeological ­matters and attaching beautiful images of the finds.”94 Simitzopoulos concentrates on Vollgraff ’s excavation of the Mycenaean chamber-­tomb cemetery on the Deiras, describing in some detail the architecture of the tombs as well as the fate that befell the wall paintings in the winter of 1902–1903. The article concludes with an account of the more significant clay, stone, metal, and ivory finds. The newspaper Argos also resumed its vocal role as the self-­appointed steward of the town’s archaeological heritage. On January 1 / 14, 1911, it warned its readers that the Mycenaean tombs that Vollgraff had excavated on the Deiras ­were in danger of being buried by mudslides provoked by winter rain, “­unless our archaeological society takes mea­sures for the protection of what foreign money has brought to light.”95 On April 15 / 28, Vollgraff himself came in for criticism. In a short note, the columnist pointed out that, while Vollgraff had published in vari­ous journals the results of his excavations of the Deiras tombs and other monuments, he had not sent a single one of t­ hese publications to the municipality of Argos—an “oversight” that is deemed “inexcusable.”96 In the following edition, the paper reported on a topographical study of the region that was being conducted by German archaeologists and would result in a map that would be of “­great value,” but it also observed caustically that, while vari­ous Eu­ro­pean and American travelers continued to pass through Argos on their way to visit the antiquities at Mycenae, many learned and/or wealthy Greeks ­were unaware even of where Mycenae was!97 The following month, Argos returned to the issue of the museum, complaining that nobody asked to visit the museum any longer since all the significant objects had been removed to Athens to be studied by the archaeologists t­ here, leaving only potsherds and inscriptions. It then requested the mayor to ask the authorities in Athens for the return of the artifacts.98 In its coverage of archaeological ­matters in ­these years, Argos exhibits a somewhat defensive and “self-­colonizing” stance that, on the one hand, is de-

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risive of what it considers ignorance and a lack of education on the part of con­temporary Greeks while, on the other, treating foreign archaeologists—­ Vollgraff included—­with a deference that is at the same time freighted with suspicion. Nowhere, perhaps, is this better illustrated than in a lengthy article on the location of ancient Oinoe, which appeared in the July 24, 1911, issue. The author begins by claiming that modern Greek writers have committed many inexcusable errors in their attempts to locate ancient cities and their territories—­partly ­because they are overly reliant on the translations of foreign scholars and partly ­because they too often treat their subject ­matter superficially. Such errors, it continues, are perhaps excusable for foreign visitors who pass hurriedly through the region on ­horse­back but Greek antiquarians need to be especially careful that the archaeologist’s pick ­will not, in the ­future, expose their topographical conclusions to ridicule. The article then posits the claim that ancient Oinoe should be located near the hill of Zeugalatso, west of Argos, where architectural remains—­including what might be a large statue base—­and ceramics have been discovered. The author ends by expressing the hope that the Archaeological Society might send an archaeologist to confirm his hypothesis.99 That request seems not to have been granted, though the following spring the author reported excitedly that Vollgraff—­notwithstanding the paper’s frequent criticism of him—­had agreed to explore the location in order to test the hypothesis.100 A week ­earlier, a brief article by presumably the same (anonymous) author suggested that a small mound covered with stones on the banks of the River Erasinos was prob­ably an ancient tomb that deserved to be investigated by the authorities.101 The year 1911 also saw the publication of Gustave Fougères’s Guide Bleu to Greece, in which the findings from Vollgraff ’s first four seasons of excavation ­were, as one might have expected, masterfully digested (the author was director of the École Française d’Athènes from 1913 to 1919). Fougères discusses the Doric stoa in the agora, the pos­si­ble gymnasium of Kylarabis near St. Constantine, the Mycenaean necropolis on the Deiras, the sanctuary of Apollo and Athena and prehistoric fortifications on the Aspis, and the two ­temples unearthed on the summit of the Larisa. Attention is also given to the Hellenistic theater and the neighboring odeion, the Roman building near the theater (identified as e­ ither baths or a basilica), the Hadrianic nymphaeum (which, like Vollgraff, Fougères equates with the Kriterion), and the snake and warrior relief on the path that connects the nymphaeum to the theater.102 He is rather less impressed by the modern town, advising his readers to find accommodation in Nafplio rather than Argos, though exception is again made for the “foreigners’ ­hotel.” But Fougères also devotes space to the museum in the dimarchio, drawing his readers’ attention to the marble Gorgoneion as well

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as a statue of Pan, two reliefs of the Eleusinian goddesses, the funerary stele of an infant, two Roman statues, the fourth-­century funerary relief to Kephisodotos, column drums, inscriptions, armor, vases, and terracotta figurines.103 Chance finds, w ­ hether the result of illicit activity or other­wise, continued to be brought to light. Indeed, it is hard to avoid the suspicion that t­ hese occurrences ­were far more frequent than the sporadic references to them in the local press would suggest. ­Toward the end of 1911, in a plot of land on Danaou Street, what appeared to be a Christian cemetery was unearthed during construction of a ­house, designed by the celebrated German architect Ernst Ziller for the wealthy merchant Ilias Konstantopoulos.104 The following spring, during excavation of a well in the courtyard of the new ­house, a large number of miniature vases w ­ ere discovered which, on the advice of the prefect of antiquities (Vardouniotis), w ­ ere swiftly expropriated by the gendarmerie.105

Return to the Agora: The Campaign of 1912 The 1912 season, which was funded by the Dutch state, commenced on April 20 / May 3 and lasted eight weeks.106 It can hardly be coincidental that, on the very day the excavations began, Argos published a brief comment denouncing the local authorities for their inability to clear the Hellenistic theater of accumulated debris, thereby embarrassing the town in front of foreign visitors.107 Most of the work this year took place in the agora. Vollgraff resumed excavation of the limestone building in the Padouvanos plot, which he continued to interpret as a ­temple—­especially when, on April 30 / May 13, he found what he identified as the base for a cult statue. It soon became clear that the structure had been built over in the Early Byzantine period, occasioning the reuse of older inscriptions and the entablature of what was almost certainly a ­temple. Vollgraff also now realized that this structure did not originally abut the π-­shaped stoa that he had brought to light in 1903; rather, the stoa had been extended westward in a ­later period.108 From May 8 / 21, Vollgraff dug a trench in the adjacent plot of land that had been expropriated from the Kordopastis ­family, where he found the foundations of two Late Antique ­houses, poros walls, fragments of unfluted columns, and, on May 12 / 25, the entablature of what he described as a round Roman t­emple but which we now know was a circular nymphaeum.109 In his journal, Vollgraff makes no attempt to identify the deity to whom the “­temple” in the Padouvanos plot was dedicated but he was evidently less circumspect in his communications with Argos, which reported that the building brought to light was the “most magnificent t­ emple of Asklepios.”110 No

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explanation is given for the identification, though it is prob­ably based on Pausanias’s account (2.21.1) of a t­ emple of Asklepios between the theater and the agora. The following week’s edition of Argos, however, reports the discovery of the supposed statue base, which apparently led Vollgraff to change his mind and attribute the t­ emple not to Asklepios but to some goddess.111 Yet when, eight years l­ater, Vollgraff published his preliminary report of the 1912 season, he was again in two minds, attributing the “­temple” to e­ ither Asklepios, Artemis Peitho, or Athena Salpinx.112 In real­ity, t­ here is no reason to believe that the structure is a ­temple at all, but this became clear only ­after renewed excavations carried out by Georges Roux in 1952. Parallels with public buildings in other areas of Greece, as well as an inscription that Vollgraff himself recovered from the building, which is an honorific decree issued by the Boulē of Argos, suggest that its function was to ­house meetings of the city’s popu­ lar council.113 What Vollgraff identified as a statue base was, instead, almost certainly the base for one of the sixteen Ionic columns that supported the roof of the building. Some further clearance work was also conducted around the π-­shaped stoa in the agora as well as in the apse of a Roman building, east of the theater, which contained two graves. Among the finds brought to light ­were two reliefs—­one depicting Hermes, the other Apollo—as well as the marble head of a w ­ oman.114 The other significant undertaking of the 1912 season, however, was the work that was conducted from May 17 / 30 in the odeion—or the “petit théâtre,” as Vollgraff terms it. The building had already been observed by Leake in 1806 but much of its cavea had been buried u ­ nder earth and debris. Over the course of two and a half weeks, Vollgraff cleared twenty rows of seats, exposing the mosaic-­paved orchestra. He also discovered two graves to the east of the odeion that he dated to the sixth c­ entury BCE on the basis of pottery. Vollgraff ’s investigations allowed him to determine that the small theater had been remodeled as an odeion in the Roman period but that, in the Classical period, it had been a place of assembly with rectilineal, rather than curved, steps.115 The May 26 edition of Argos erroneously terms the building an amphitheater but stresses the fact that Vollgraff ’s excavations have now definitively discounted the e­ arlier suspicion that the small theater was a failed, experimental precursor to the Hellenistic theater.116

The Turbulent De­cade When the 1912 season came to an end on June 28 / July 11, Vollgraff had ­every intention of returning to Argos the following spring.117 As it turns out, it would

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be sixteen years before he resumed his work in the town. One reason for the interruption was the death of his primary sponsor, Goekoop, in the early autumn of 1914.118 But the delay was also due to the turbulence that hit Greece in the years between 1912 and 1924. This began with the First Balkan War, which broke out on September 25 / October 8, 1912, when Montenegro declared war on the Ottoman Empire. A series of preexisting bilateral treaties led almost immediately to the involvement of Serbia, Bulgaria, and Greece. The Ottoman commander of Thessaloniki surrendered the city to the Greek army on October  26 / November  8, while Ioannina capitulated on February 21 / March 6, 1913—­a huge victory that was nevertheless soured by the assassination of King George I, ­later that month, while touring Thessaloniki. The Treaty of London, signed on May 17 / 30, 1913, effectively signaled the end of the Ottoman presence in Eu­rope but it pleased none of its signatories and, a month ­later, Bulgaria attacked Serbia, triggering the Second Balkan War. Greece and Romania invaded Bulgaria, as did the Ottoman Empire, and Bulgaria surrendered ­toward the end of July. As a result of the treaties of Bucharest, Istanbul, and Athens, the size of Greece was increased by around 68 ­percent with the addition to the kingdom of southern Ipiros, Makedonia, Kriti (Crete), and the islands of Lesvos, Chios, and Samos; its population r­ ose from 2.7 to 4.8 million. But almost 4,000 Greeks had been killed or had died of disease, more than 9,000 had been injured, and many more had been left destitute and homeless.119 Naturally enough, Argos was not spared ­these upheavals and the use of the Kapodistrian cavalry barracks to ­house Turkish prisoners of war necessitated the army commandeering the Kapodistrian school­house.120 The next crisis was precipitated by the outbreak of the First World War in 1914. King Constantine, George I’s eldest son and successor, was married to the ­sister of the German Kaiser Wilhelm II and so advocated neutrality; the Greek prime minister, Eleftherios Venizelos, on the other hand, favored participation on the side of the Entente powers (Britain, France, and Rus­sia). Despite resigning and being reelected with a larger majority in June  1915, Venizelos and the king remained at odds with one another and, in September 1916, Venizelos established a separate provisional government with its own army in Thessaloniki—an event known as the Ethnikos Dichasmos (national schism).121 On December 12 / 25, the Holy Synod of the Church of Greece, ­under Theoklitos, the archbishop of Athens, or­ga­nized nationwide demonstrations to execrate Venizelos—­including at Argos, where the protest was presided over by the bishop of the Argolid, Athanasios. Venizelos was apparently likened to Ephialtes (the betrayer of the Greeks at Thermopylai) and Judas. The headmaster of the high school even led his pupils to the public execration, beating two students who refused to participate.122 With the backing of

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British and French forces, which began to blockade royalist-­controlled areas, Venizelos returned to Athens in June 1917, forcing Constantine to yield the throne to his second son, Alexander. A purge of anti-­Venizelists followed and a number of anti-­Venizelist Argives ­were sent into internal exile. Among them was the seventy-­one-­year-­old Vardouniotis, who spent only two months on Chios and Lesvos and then in Athens, although the experience seems to have taken a toll on his physical and m ­ ental health down to his death in 1924.123 In the meantime, on May 28 / June 10, 1918, yet another explosion at the gunpowder factory at Kefalari took the lives of thirty-­five soldiers and ten civilians, including a small child.124 In return for his support of the Entente powers, Venizelos had been offered vague promises of “impor­tant territorial concessions on the coast of Asia Minor” by the British foreign secretary Sir Edward Grey. On May 2 / 15, 1919, and partly in response to the disembarkation of Italian troops in the area of Antalya, a Greek force, supported by Britain, France, and Amer­i­ca, captured the city of Smyrna (modern Izmir). Although technically still u ­ nder Ottoman sovereignty, Greek administration over the city and surrounding area was confirmed by the Treaty of Sèvres of July 28 / August 10, 1920. By the end of the year, however, Venizelos had been defeated at the polls, King Alexander had died of septicemia a­ fter being bitten by his pet monkey, and King Constantine had been recalled to Greece as a result of a rigged referendum. On March 10 / 23, 1921, the fateful order was given for the Greek army to advance deep into Asia Minor. Despite some initial successes, the Greeks w ­ ere routed on August 26 / September 8, 1922, by the Turkish army of Mustafa Kemal (Atatürk) and, as they sought to flee via the port of Smyrna, some 30,000 Greek and Armenian Christians w ­ ere killed in a massive conflagration that broke out in the city on August 31 / September 13.125 The Asia Minor Catastrophe, as it is called, had two devastating effects in addition to the constitutional crisis that it provoked. The first was that the ambition of further territorial gains in Asia Minor—­the so-­called Megali Idea (big idea), which had been floated by Ioannis Kolettis almost eighty years ­earlier—­was now effectively dead. The second was the displacement of refugees on a massive scale—­first, as a result of the evacuation of Greek troops in September 1922 and the desperate scramble to escape recriminations and then, in the wake of the Treaty of Lausanne of July 1923, which defined Greek and Turkish “nationalities” on the basis of religion (Orthodox Christian and Muslim respectively) and mandated an exchange of populations. All told, perhaps as many as 585,000 Muslims ­were dispatched to Turkey while Greece received an influx of around 1.3 million Christians, uprooted from their homes, possessions, and livelihoods and many of them—­like the Karamanlides—­speaking

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l­ittle or no Greek.126 Large numbers of refugees ­were settled in Makedonia and Thraki but t­ here w ­ ere few towns that remained unaffected. At Argos, around 900 refugees from Asia Minor w ­ ere ­housed temporarily in the Kapodistrian barracks and then, in a new settlement on the outskirts of the town, north of the church of the Dormition of the Virgin, which was given the nickname of Kypseli (beehive).127 In this climate of warfare, po­liti­cal factionalism, economic recession, displacement, and overcrowding, it is hardly surprising that the conditions ­were unfavorable for Vollgraff to continue his fieldwork at Argos. But, as Dorovinis has pointed out, it also had the effect that virtually no local newspapers ­were published for about a de­cade between 1913 and 1923.128 A few visitors continued to pass through the town—­including, in 1926, the British author William Hutton, who considered the Hellenistic theater a “dismal affair” and a “neglected ruin,” although he does recount an (unattributed) tradition that the Archaic poet Pindar had died t­ here in the arms of his lover, Theoxenos.129 Dismissing modern Argos as “a wretched place, half village half town,” where the unwary visitor is likely to be attacked by “Molossian mongrels,” Hutton also rehearses the familiar complaints about the culinary experience to be had in the town.130

The Campaign of 1928 The newspaper Agrotiki Argolis commenced publication in July  1926. As one might have expected from its title, much of its content concerned agriculture and animal husbandry, in addition to politics, though t­here is also a recurrent focus on the dire state of Argos’s public health and sanitation. From time to time, however, the paper updated its readership on ­matters of archaeological interest. On January 9, 1927, the paper reported on a thwarted attempt to engage in the illicit sale of antiquities. A few weeks e­ arlier, while digging near the coast at Nea Kios (ancient Temenion), Spyros Kefalas had discovered a small statue of Herakles killing the Hydra of Lerna. Unsure as to the value of the piece, Kefalas consulted I. Lavdiotis and G. Rendas so that they could facilitate the secret sale of the statuette to antiquities dealers in Athens, with Kefalas receiving a share of the proceeds. However, although Lavdiotis and Rendas did indeed sell the artifact to a certain Michaïl Roussis, they reneged on their agreement to pay Kefalas, prompting him to alert the police. The statue of Herakles was recovered and confiscated and Lavdiotis was remanded in custody.131 A week ­later, again in Agrotiki Argolis, Georgios Papayiannopoulos wrote an article recounting how, shortly ­after the discovery of the Herakles statue,

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more finds had come to light—­including at Myrtika, on the outskirts of the town, where Ioannis Syrengela and his nephew had found a life-­size headless statue which was deemed to be of ­great value. Evidently, responsibility for Argos’s archaeological heritage now lay with an ephor of antiquities based in Nafplio, though the town’s gendarme, apparently unaware of this, telegraphed to Athens to request the dispatch of an expert. Papayiannopoulos indicated that an inquiry had been launched ­because ­there ­were rumors that other statues of smaller size had been hidden from the authorities and concluded by urging the Archaeological Society of Athens to conduct excavations at Argos in order to continue Vollgraff ’s work. The article concludes with a piece of “breaking news”—­namely, that two archaeologists from the École Française and the Deutsches Archäologisches Institut had been sent to Argos to examine the artifacts.132 In a follow-up the next week, we learn that the statues in question had been transferred to the museum in the dimarchio.133 In a serialization of four articles entitled “Τὸ Ἄγνωστο Ἄργος” (unknown Argos), which commenced on May 13, 1928, a columnist who signs off as “B” took aim at the error-­ridden entry on Argos that Dionysios Moustakas had written for the ­Great Greek Encyclopaedia. In the first part, B criticizes Moustakas for knowing nothing about Argos “­because he is an “outsider” (xenos)—­a reminder that it was not just foreigners who ­were considered outsiders.134 Many of the ­mistakes concern the more recent history of Argos: for example, Moustakas erroneously claimed that the First—­rather than Fourth—­National Assembly was held in the Hellenistic theater at Argos. In the second part, however, B turns to the m ­ istakes that Moustakas made with regard to Argos’s archaeological remains—­most egregiously, his conflation of the large brick building in front of the theater, which is h ­ ere correctly identified as a Roman bath­house, with the Hadrianic nymphaeum to the north that Vollgraff had equated with the Kriterion. Moustakas is also criticized for his dismissive comments about the museum.135 Vollgraff returned to Argos at the end of May, to be joined shortly ­after by William van der Pluym, a professor of architecture at the University of Amsterdam, the photographer Onno Damsté, and Anna Roes, Vollgraff ’s research assistant who would eventually become his second wife in 1947. In charge of the workmen was Georgios Alexopoulos of Mykine (Mycenae), assisted by his son Panagiotis.136 Ioannis Ioakim was appointed the overseer of the excavations by the ephor of what was then called the 6th Archaeological Region.137 The 1928 season would last thirteen weeks; some work took place in the ancient agora from June 18 onward but the chief focus of the year’s excavations was on the courtyard of the medieval c­ astle on the Larisa. News of Vollgraff ’s arrival was reported encomiastically on the front page of Agrotiki Argolis for

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June 3, where the Dutch archaeologist is described as “steeped in the eternal springs of classical philology” and an adorant of the ancient art, for which Argos was so famous with sculptors such as Polykleitos and even the Athenian Pheidias—­presumably claimed as an “honorary Argive” b­ ecause he was supposed to have been the pupil of the Argive sculptor Ageladas.138 Another article in the same issue informs its readers that the archaeological collection formerly h ­ oused in the dimarchio had recently been transferred to a more appropriate space on the ground floor of the Hellenic School, just to the north of the dimarchio.139 On June 10, Agrotiki Argolis carried an interview with Vollgraff. In it, he began by explaining that the goal of the current excavations on the Larisa was to discover the ancient ­temples of Zeus and Athena, which he expected to find in the western part of the ­castle, even though the dig had commenced in the eastern sector and was proceeding westward, “dumping the earth on the flanks”—­a response, perhaps, to the criticism leveled at him by Argos twenty-­ two years e­ arlier. Twenty-­five to thirty workmen w ­ ere currently engaged on the dig but, from the following day, he expected that number to begin increasing so that he would eventually employ around 100 laborers—­something that was obviously welcome news to the local economy. He also explained that another goal of the excavations on the Larisa was the probable discovery of a Mycenaean palace. When asked why he thought this was a probability, he explained that his opinion was based on (1) the discovery of the Mycenaean necropolis on the Deiras; (2) the existence of Mycenaean palaces at Mycenae, the Heraion, and Tiryns; and (3) the fact that, despite extensive excavations on the Aspis, no palace had been discovered ­there.140 Pressed further on this, Vollgraff eventually revealed that, just a few days ­earlier, he had discovered, built into the l­ater fortifications on the Larisa, a monolithic block of brescia, mea­sur­ing 4 m by 1 m by 1 m, which “undoubtedly originated from a Mycenaean building” since parallels w ­ ere known from other Mycenaean palaces and tholos tombs. The interviewer then proceeded to ask Vollgraff w ­ hether he hoped to find “archaeological trea­sures” such as sculpture. Vollgraff replied that he did not, since they would have been destroyed by the vari­ous incursions over the ages, but that he would certainly discover foundations and fragmentary architectural material—­much of it reused in the l­ ater fortifications on the Larisa. In a fascinating revelation of his interests, he continued that while it was pos­si­ble he would find sculpture, like the large Roman statue that he had found in the ancient agora, this held ­little interest for him, since “I conduct excavations only for the sake of history and with a view to illumination.” T ­ hose, he continued, who are interested in statues, clay vases, or vari­ous artworks should excavate

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ancient graves, which should not be hard to find outside the walls of the ancient city. “But, as I told you, t­ hese do not hold much interest for me at pre­ sent ­because I am not conducting excavations of a certain t­ emple, or of a palace, e­ tc., but of a city in its entirety for the history and topography of this city. The trea­sures of the graves are well hidden ­under the earth and they are not lost.” When asked if he intended to dig in other locations, Vollgraff replied that, if time allowed, he expected to dig in the ancient agora and in other spots, “if it is permitted to me by the proprietors and for as long as my funds allow.” He also explained that his greatest success would be to discover the ­temple of Apollo Lykeios, though this was difficult since the road (presumably Tripoleos Street) was an impediment. Fi­nally, Vollgraff was asked how the excavations w ­ ere financed. He replied that they ­were supported by funds raised from Dutch philhellenes, as well as by generous sums donated by Her Majesty Queen Wilhelmina of the Netherlands, the Dutch government, the Acad­emy of Amsterdam, and the ­widow of his former patron, Goekoop.141 For the first two weeks or so, the clearance operations within the Larisa fortress yielded l­ ittle in the way of material. The Argive newspaper Panargiaki for June 17 reported that Vollgraff had doubled the number of workmen but that he was not expecting any finds of g­ reat value.142 In fact, however, on the previous day Vollgraff had discovered, built into the west wall of the medieval fortifications, a large inscription (SEG 11.314) that he dated to the sixth ­century BCE on the basis of letter forms.143 ­Little of the inscription was legible— at least initially—­although t­ here was a clear reference to the t­ emple of Athena Polias, which offered welcome confirmation of Pausanias’s location (2.24.3) of this sanctuary on the summit of the Larisa. The find was reported on the front page of Agrotiki Argolis, which noted that the discovery was especially impor­tant b­ ecause inscriptions of that date ­were not at all common. It also noted that Vollgraff had discovered an aqueduct of Roman date in the ancient agora.144 On June 23, Vollgraff discovered some poros foundations in the northern part of the ­castle’s courtyard; ­these ­were disengaged between July 4 and July 6 and w ­ ere identified as belonging to the ­temple of Athena Polias. Nearby, within the ruins of what is described in his journal as a Venetian church, pre-­ Mycenaean and Geometric sherds ­were brought to light. Also in the vicinity, Vollgraff found a rectangular tomb containing two or three corpses lying on their back, which he initially dated to the Geometric or Archaic period but l­ater considered to be Christian.145 On July 7, a large, monolithic limestone threshold was unearthed, which was assumed to mark the entrance to the Mycenaean citadel; two days ­later, the first of several stretches of a cyclopean wall came to light in the southeastern quadrant of the courtyard. The discoveries w ­ ere

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described in detail in the July 22 issue of Agrotiki Argolis, which also reported on some of the more significant small finds, including a Byzantine plaque, depicting a peacock with grapes in its beak, and a seal with a repre­sen­ta­tion of a man and a scorpion that Vollgraff dated to the Creto-­Minoan period. The identification of the limestone foundations as t­ hose of the t­ emple of Athena was justified on the basis of large number of female terracotta figures found in conjunction with the structure, while the retrieval of scraps of gold was considered to corroborate the likelihood that the Mycenaean threshold indicated the existence of a palace on the Larisa hill.146 By the first week of August, more of the Mycenaean enceinte had been unearthed in the southern part of the courtyard while, between August 13 and 18, a second set of limestone foundations, which Vollgraff tentatively identified as ­those of the ­temple of Zeus Larisaios, was discovered to the southeast of the one-­aisled church, built against the northern wall of the courtyard. The Venetian designation of this church had now been dropped, due to the recovery of a Byzantine inscription which dated its foundation to 1175 CE.147 Although Panargiaki for July 29 reported that Vollgraff had de­cided to extend his excavations ­until the end of September, no entries in his journal postdate August 23.148 In general, Agrotiki Argolis appears to have been well disposed ­toward Vollgraff. Panargiaki, on the other hand, leveled some criticisms against the Dutch archaeologist that echoed e­ arlier complaints made in newspapers such as Inachos and Argos. On September 9, a front-­page article reported on the most recent excavations but also revealed that, in 1905, four large crates of finds from Vollgraff ’s excavations had been dispatched to Athens and that nobody now knew anything about them. Vollgraff was also criticized for not mounting any exhibition concerning his previous campaigns and for not giving any formal pre­sen­ta­tion of his finds in Argos itself, despite delivering lectures in Holland and elsewhere—­Argos had leveled a very similar accusation against him sixteen years e­ arlier.149 The next issue of the paper complained instead that, where Vollgraff had conducted his excavations in the ancient agora, ­there was now a deep, gaping chasm which presented dangers to pedestrians and vehicles passing through; it urged the authorities to take immediate mea­sures.150

The Final Campaign of 1930 Vollgraff returned to Argos on June 1, 1930, commencing his very last excavation season the following day. Clearance work continued within the fortifications on the Larisa, bringing to light a deep Venetian cistern in the southwest

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corner of the courtyard and a rich votive deposit associated with the sanctuary of Athena Polias.151 Just to the right of the gateway that leads from the southern court to the inner courtyard, Vollgraff cleared the Archaic inscription (IG IV 614) that had been noted by Fourmont, Dodwell, and Gell and which he had relocated at the end of the previous season.152 Work on the Larisa was suspended on June 21.153 Meanwhile, another team of workers began clearing the Hellenistic theater from June 3. On June 26, the removed earth and debris was hauled away on six wagons that Vollgraff had rented from the American School of Classical Studies in Athens and, by the third week of August, all the lower rows of seats as well as the orchestra and the foundations of the Roman skene building had been exposed. An inscription was also found recording that the theater had been renovated, following a fire, by the emperor Hadrian.154 On June 13, another team began digging a long trench, 90 m by 2.5 m, diagonally across the property of a Mr. Gangas, east of the theater. Over the next two weeks, Roman mosaic pavements as well as Classical and Hellenistic ­houses ­were brought to light. The results ­were reported in the July 6 edition of Agrotiki Argolis, which commended Vollgraff for his “indefatigable energy,” noting that he worked the entire day and was always pre­sent.155 On June 23, Vollgraff sank a trench in the Psiroyiannis plot, about 100 m east of the ancient agora. Alongside ­house foundations and a poros Doric column drum, he also unearthed a stylobate that he initially interpreted as belonging to a t­ emple.156 By June 30, the stylobate had been cleared for a length of around 19 m, extending to around 30 m by July 2. What now became identified as a stoa was traced on July 8 in the adjacent plot of land belonging to Panagiotis Kalorizis. Mea­sur­ing at least 42.5 m in length, Vollgraff argued that the incorporation within the foundations of e­ arlier material meant that the stoa postdated the Herulian invasion of 267 CE.157 On July 21, the trenches in the Psiroyiannis and Kalorizis plots ­were entirely backfilled but, two days ­later, a new trench in the Psiroyiannis plot revealed the foundations of a round building that Vollgraff tentatively identified as a ­temple to the goddess Dike, the existence of whose cult he inferred b­ ecause of a statue base he had recovered during excavation of the stoa. Accordingly, he was minded to identify the stoa itself as a law court.158 It was only ­after renewed excavations in 1953 that Georges Roux discovered that the round structure was a benched exedra associated with the portico.159 Another location Vollgraff dug between July 10 and August 6 was the Angelopoulos plot, east of the Hellenistic theater, where he discovered well-­appointed Late Antique h ­ ouses with elaborate mosaics, including part of what would come to be known as the House of the Falconer.160 His intention, on the other hand, to dig a ­little to the south of the church of the Dormition of the Virgin in order to unearth the ancient city wall was

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unrealized.161 Although unrecorded in his journal, Vollgraff also continued to examine inscriptions which had come to light throughout the town. In a ­later publication, he notes that two of ­these inscriptions (including IG IV 555) ­were to be found in the garden of the h ­ ouse of Dr. Dimitrios Kouzis, son of the former mayor.162 August 23 was the last day of Vollgraff ’s final excavation season and saw him completely clearing the orchestra of the Hellenistic theater and the dromos of a tenth Mycenaean tomb that he had discovered below the sanctuary of Apollo Pythaeus on July 26. August 24 was a Sunday and, although Vollgraff ’s journal carries a heading for “25 août et jours suivants,” t­ here are no further entries, suggesting that—­once again—­the excavations w ­ ere terminated unexpectedly. No explanation is offered in the second interview that Vollgraff gave to Agrotiki Argolis, published in consecutive editions of the newspaper for September 7 and September 14. The interviewer, who signs off as “X,” begins by commenting on Vollgraff ’s youthful appearance, in spite of his fifty-­four years, and offers some biographical information on the archaeologist. Vollgraff explains that he had previously toured and studied the antiquities of Italy and all the rest of Greece before ending up at Argos, “where I formed the conviction that buried in its bosom w ­ ere innumerable remains of the ancient city of Argos, founded in what is called the ‘Second [­Middle] Helladic’ period—­that is, around 2000 BCE.” Rehearsing a theme that he had voiced in his previous interview, he explains that “for us archaeologists, the discovery of any statue does not possess that same value that the public ascribes, ­because the museums are full of them. Of greater, perhaps the greatest, significance for us is the discovery of ­those rec­ords—­inscriptions and the like—­that ­will direct us to the study of the history of civilization and the history of art. . . . ​And, indeed, I have found abundant rec­ords like ­these in Argos—­many more than I could have ­imagined.”163 In the second installment of the interview, Vollgraff begins by summarizing his archaeological work at Argos over the previous twenty-­eight years. We learn that Mr. Gangas, on whose plot the Roman skene of the theater had been found, had generously offered his land for excavation without seeking any compensation. In terms of artifacts, ­little had been found, save for a golden brooch that depicted Aphrodite, some painted pottery, terracotta figurines, and the foundations of ancient h ­ ouses. Instead, the original skene building of the theater was believed to lie beneath Gangas’s ­house. Vollgraff also discusses the mosaic that he brought to light in the Angelopoulos plot, which depicted two gorgons and vari­ous fish, as well as another large mosaic, east of Tripoleos Street and near the ­house of Anastasia Kolomvinou (the House of the Falconer), which he describes as “the most wonderful mosaic that I have ever

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seen in my life up to this point.” Dating to the fourth ­century CE, the scenes portrayed a hunt with hounds, vultures, and falcons as well as repre­sen­ta­tions of the months of January and February. Vollgraff concluded the interview by saying that he planned to return to resume his excavations in the near ­f uture but could not specify exactly when, since he had just assumed the duties of rector at the University of Utrecht.164 In fact, he would never return to excavate although he continued publishing the results of his work at Argos.

“Indefatigable Initiate of Archaeology” or “Kidnapper of the Gods”? It is prob­ably not an exaggeration to say that no scholar has contributed more to the study of the history and archaeology of Argos than Wilhelm Vollgraff. Possessed of a wide-­r anging expertise that is rarely found t­oday, his deep knowledge of lit­er­a­ture, history, epigraphy, dialectology, archaeology, and topography offered for the first time a rigorous reconstruction of Argos’s development from the ­ Middle Helladic through Byzantine periods, largely unencumbered by the mythological legacy that had previously dominated accounts of the ancient city’s past. ­Needless to say, his interpretations and conclusions ­were not infallible and some of them have been vitiated as a result of further archaeological exploration, but his corpus of writings still remains the foundation on which subsequent scholarship has been built. Dorovinis recounts how, even as late as the 1980s, the local press would refer to Vollgraff “almost as a mythical name that contributed to a renewed elevation of the importance of ancient Argos.”165 Some indication of his continued significance within the field is afforded by the conference that was held at the École Française d’Athènes in September 2003, at which many distinguished French and Greek archaeologists discussed Vollgraff and his legacy.166 Among his contemporaries, however, and especially at Argos, Vollgraff was a more controversial figure. For some—­Georgios Simitzopoulos or the editor, writers, and, one assumes, a good proportion of the readers of newspapers such as Danaos or Agrotiki Argolis—he was clearly a celebrity, esteemed for his “exceptional devotion and love for the history of our town.”167 Papers such as Mykine, Inachos, Argos, and Panargiaki, on the other hand, ­were more critical and suspicious, leveling charges against Vollgraff for his complicity in dispatching his finds to the National Archaeological Museum in Athens or his disregard for maintaining or tidying the sites that he had excavated. Dimitrios Vardouniotis appears to have been especially conflicted. At a certain level, he surely welcomed external scholarly validation of his attempts to promote the

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history and archaeological heritage of Argos. At the same time, however, one gets the sense that he resented the intervention of an outsider and the pos­si­ ble challenge it posed to his proprietorial stewardship of the town’s antiquities, previously recognized in his appointment as prefect of antiquities. That, at least, would seem to be part of the point in the dismissive comments he made about the value of Vollgraff ’s findings on the Aspis. It is impossible to quantify how many of Argos’s residents ­were genuinely moved by Vollgraff ’s excavations to local pride in the town’s archaeological heritage. As in the latter de­cades of the nineteenth ­century, it may have been only a small group of educated professionals who w ­ ere truly interested in the town’s history for its own sake. But we can, I think, be sure that a greater number of residents began to recognize their role as archaeological stakeholders. For a start, Vollgraff ’s employment of up to 100 workmen would have had an impact on the local economy, if only for a few weeks in each of the seven summers that he worked at Argos. It is also clear, however, that t­ here was an expectation that the unearthing of significant finds, if they could be kept in Argos, would attract visitors, both Greek and foreign, which would in turn benefit the town’s ser­vice sector—­what Mykine describes as the “entrepreneurial spirit.”168 This would certainly explain the resentment that is expressed at the transfer of the more impor­tant artifacts from Argos to Athens. Indeed, Vollgraff ’s reiterated confession in the final season that he was more interested in the “bigger picture”—­history and topography—­than in individual works of art presumes a discursive counterpoint that was more enthralled by what Agrotiki Argolis calls “archaeological trea­sures.” In the end, it is not at all clear that Vollgraff ’s excavations attracted more foreign travelers to visit Argos. The French writer and grammarian Henri Sensine, who found that the numerous gardens and orchards gave the town a “pleasing freshness” but complained that t­ here ­were no antiquities to see save for some sections of cyclopean walling and some “debris” in the local museum, is shockingly unfamiliar with Vollgraff ’s work. Indeed, he notes erroneously that a “Dutch mission” had made some “fruitful digs” in 1930 but that the agora had been discovered by the Archaeological Society of Athens only three years ­earlier.169 We can, however, be certain that t­here was a greater awareness, on the part of the local population, of Argos’s archaeological heritage than had been the case at any time in the town’s past. In part, this was due to press coverage. The fact that a newspaper concerned primarily with agricultural and pastoral issues could carry a lengthy interview with Vollgraff—­let alone repeat the exercise two years l­ ater with a two-­part, front-­page feature—­ indicates a broad receptivity to archaeological ­matters on the part of its read-

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ers. It is also worth noting that the information about Vollgraff ’s digs that was presented in the local press is more detailed and more “technical” than had been the case in papers of the 1880s and 1890s. But this new archaeological awareness was also the consequence of the involvement of many local laborers in the excavations and of the fact that explorations ­were being made in several locales si­mul­ta­neously. In the cafés and bars or in the marketplace or town square, somebody was bound to know somebody who had e­ ither participated in the digs or who owned the property where an excavation had taken place. Some landowners w ­ ere, of course, resistant—as indicated by the failed excavation in the property that belonged to Mr. Ikonomou and Mr. Kouvandzis. But ­others, such as Dimitrios Kouzis or Mr. Gangas ­were far more cooperative. Vollgraff ’s excavations set the cultural agenda of the town for at least a few years beyond his permanent return to the Netherlands. On November 9, 1930, Agrotiki Argolis carried a column addressed to Georgios Papandreou, the minister of education and f­ uture prime minister, in which the author complains that one of the stelai that Vollgraff had discovered in the Hellenistic theater had been smashed by unknown vandals “only to satisfy their criminal tendencies.” ­Others w ­ ere robbing column bases from the agora to use as building material, thus abandoning the antiquities of the town to the hands of evil-­ doers. “Do we have an ephor of antiquities?” asks the author. “Do we have a guard? And, if we do, what ser­vice are they performing?” The minister is urged to chastise them, “so that they realize that their chief duty is the preservation of antiquities and the pursuit of vandals.”170 Meanwhile, momentum was building for a new museum to ­house Argos’s antiquities. Agrotiki Argolis for August 2 informs its readers that the mayor, Konstantinos Bobos, had secured a loan of 500,000 drachmas from the Ministry of Education for the establishment of a museum and that the Kallergis ­house (Kallergio) was considered an appropriate location to ­house the collection of antiquities.171 On Friday, August 28, a specially appointed commission actually visited the Kallergio and deemed it suitable for the purpose.172 Although the surviving members of the Kallergis f­ amily sold the h ­ ouse to the municipality in April 1932, no immediate further action was taken since, a l­ittle over two years l­ater, we find Aspis tou Argous lamenting the current untidy state of the room in the former Hellenic School which h ­ oused the archaeological collection and urging that regular visitor hours be established and informational plaques placed near the displayed objects.173 By February 1935, it became known that the Ministry of Education was torn between transferring the antiquities collection to the Kallergio and constructing a brand new museum.

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Perhaps on a plot of land belonging to the municipality, a multipurpose structure would h ­ ouse a museum on its ground floor and offices for postal, telephone, and tele­g ram ser­vices on the upper floor.174 Ultimately, however, all ­these initiatives ­were derailed by the po­liti­cal crisis that ushered in the dictatorship of Ioannis Metaxas in August 1936 and then by the occupation of the town, during the Second World War, by the Axis powers.175

 Conclusion Preservation or Pro­g ress?

Argos fell to the Germans on April 27, 1941, following a two-­day aerial bombardment during which forty-­three w ­ ere killed—­ including ten who had taken shelter in the monastery of the Concealed Virgin. Within a few days, troops belonging to the Italian Eighth Army Corps arrived and established themselves in the Kapodistrian barracks and vari­ous buildings throughout the town. The Italian commander took up residence in the dimarchio while the h ­ ouse that Ernst Ziller had built for Ilias Konstantopoulos was used as a base for the German commandant and a detachment of the Gestapo. As was the case throughout Greece, the occupying powers procured their supplies locally, leading to severe food shortages and starvation—­ although, at Argos, the effects of this w ­ ere mitigated somewhat by the intervention of the Swedish and Swiss Red Cross, which arranged for the distribution of food and medicine. Further distress was caused by the fact that civilians could be compelled indiscriminately into forced l­ abor—­for example, securing the defenses of the airfield near Koutsopodi, to the north of Argos. Worst of all ­were the summary arrests and executions, often in reprisal for acts of re­sis­ tance by the National Liberation Front (EAM) and its military wing, the National Popu­lar Liberation Army (ELAS). A ­little more than six weeks a­ fter Mussoloni’s fascist regime had been dissolved, the Italians capitulated on September 8, 1943, and left Argos. On October 14, however, a squadron of American bombers—­perhaps on a mission 167

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to target the airfield—­was fired upon by a German convoy, parked on Danaou Street. Bombs w ­ ere dropped indiscriminately throughout the town and 100 civilians lost their lives. Meanwhile, violent acts of re­sis­tance grew more frequent. Between May 17 and September 5, 1944, the Sixth Regiment of ELAS killed 116 German soldiers in ambushes in the villages around Argos despite the fact that the Germans had declared the Peloponnese a war zone, imposing a nighttime curfew and prohibiting all movement between villages. Although recruits—­particularly young men—of all po­liti­cal leanings joined ELAS in order to resist the German occupiers, its leadership was openly supported by the Greek Communist Party (KKE) and this provoked the formation of the so-­called Security Battalions, which w ­ ere anticommunist and sometimes collaborated with the Germans. Four days a­ fter the Germans abandoned Argos on September 14, 1944, a bloody ­battle took place between the Security Battalions and ELAS at Achladokambos, to the southwest of Argos, in which forty villa­gers ­were killed. The Security Battalions fled to Nafplio and, on September 20, ELAS gained control of Argos, although it withdrew following the Varkiza Treaty of February 12, 1945. For the remainder of the Civil War between the communist Demo­cratic Army of Greece (DSE) and Greek governmental forces, supported first by Britain and then by the United States, Argos was largely spared the carnage that gripped the surrounding villages.1

The French Return to Argos In 1950, Georges Daux became the new director of the École Française d’Athènes and expressed interest in resuming the excavations that Vollgraff had conducted on behalf of the school more than twenty years ­earlier. In publishing the preliminary report on the first season of 1952, Daux expresses his gratitude to Vollgraff, “who has not only ceded to us the moral right that he retains over the excavation of Argos but has put at our disposal, with an exemplary generosity, unpublished notes and documents.” Daux adds that, in preparation for the new campaign, he had spent time with Vollgraff at his home in Huis-­ter-­Heide.2 Over the course of the next six de­cades, the École Française returned to many of the sites that Vollgraff had excavated—­the agora from 1952, the odeion from 1953, the Hellenistic theater and Mycenaean cemetery on the Deiras from 1954, and the summit of the Aspis from 1974. It also initiated new excavations of Baths A from 1953 and of the sanctuary of Aphrodite between 1966 and 1974. In the first season of 1952, Georges Roux resumed excavations in the ancient agora of what Vollgraff had assumed was a ­temple. The sinking of further trenches revealed that the building was square,



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rather than rectangular as Vollgraff had assumed, and Roux suggested that it was a bouleuterion, dating to the first half of the fifth ­century BCE.3 We have already seen that ­there w ­ ere plans in the 1930s to outfit a new museum for the archaeological collection of Argos, even though t­ hese came to nothing. Indeed, in the same de­cade, the collection was transferred back from the Hellenic School to the dimarchio—­apparently to make space in the former for the new material unearthed by Vollgraff ’s excavations.4 At some point between 1940 and 1941, Italian troops broke into the museum via a win­dow and stole a number of items, including a gold ring, sculptures, and vases, as well as finds from Vollgraff ’s excavations that w ­ ere awaiting study. The stolen items have never been located. The museum was hit again in October 1941 by a Captain Aurelio Marcarino, who staged a fictitious break-in to conceal his ­earlier removal of material from the collection on the ­orders of a commanding officer. Most of the finds w ­ ere returned and deposited in the National Archaeological Museum, from where they ­were relocated to Argos many years ­later. But the situation with the collection was clearly becoming unsustainable. On March 21, 1949, Panagiotis Diakoumis, custodian of antiquities at Mycenae, wrote to the Ministry of Ecclesiastical Affairs and National Education, complaining that a branch of the gendarmerie had commandeered the room of the dimarchio which served as the museum and was storing ammunition and foodstuffs ­there. Eventually, a­ fter a l­ittle more than three years, the gendarmerie was evicted and the keys to the building ­were returned to the municipality. The next issue to be addressed was accessibility: in October 1953, the guard of the Argive Heraion, Theodoros Bitzis, was instructed to travel to Argos ­every Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday and open the museum room in the dimarchio from 9 a.m. to 2 p.m.5 In March 1954, the Ministry of National Education took the decision to revive the proj­ect of an archaeological museum in what had been Kallergis’s ­house. The École Française d’Athènes bore the cost of renovating the Kallergio and, in 1957, it began building a new wing, to the east of the ­house, on land donated by the municipality. The new museum comprised three parts: (1) the Kallergio itself, which was originally intended as the primary exhibition space, although it quickly proved too small; (2) the new wing to the east, designed by the Rus­sian architect Youri Fomine, which had initially been designed to h ­ ouse offices but whose ground floor was now also given over to the display of exhibits; and (3) a portico in the garden, which protected the mosaics that Vollgraff had discovered near the theater.6 At the inaugural cele­ bration on June 25, 1961, Daux asserted—­perhaps a ­little optimistically—­that “with its rich antiquities and its museum, Argos is inserted at the right time into the g­ reat touristic movement that is transforming Greek life.”7

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The Urban Transformation of Argos The close collaboration in the 1950s and 1960s between French archaeologists and the Greek authorities is signaled by the fact that the Archaeological Ser­ vice invited the École Française to conduct a series of “rescue excavations” at vari­ous locations throughout the town.8 In 1952, for example, an excavation in the garden of a Mlle. Klisari, to the north of the agora, revealed the foundations of a stoa. Meanwhile, foundations of Classical and Hellenistic h ­ ouses ­were uncovered in the field of Ilias Kouros, some 150 m south of the π-­shaped stoa, and the remains of a Byzantine h ­ ouse w ­ ere discovered in a garden belonging to Ilias Phlouros, opposite the church of the Dormition of the Virgin.9 Another rescue excavation, immediately to the west of the cemetery attached to the church, revealed the existence of a large and impor­tant Geometric (ninth to eighth centuries BCE) necropolis, which was excavated in subsequent seasons by Paul Courbin.10 At the same time, the Greek Archaeological Ser­vice began to adopt its own mea­sures to rec­ord—­and, in some cases, conserve—­the archaeological heritage of the town. In 1951, Ioannis Papadimitriou, the ephor of antiquities for the Argolid, halted terracing work in preparation for the construction of a new municipal reservoir, to the west of the ancient agora, ­because limestone foundations had been discovered t­here.11 In November of the following year, the prefect of antiquities (epimelitis) for Nafplio, Serafim Charitonidis, conducted, at the expense of the Archaeological Society of Athens, a rescue excavation on the property of the Bertzeletos ­family on Vasilissis Sofias Street, east of St. Peter’s Cathedral, where four graves and structures of vari­ous dates w ­ ere unearthed.12 The increased volume of rescue excavations in the two de­cades following the Second World War and the Civil War was a direct consequence of rapid urban development at Argos. Between 1920 and 1940, the town’s population had already risen from around 9,000 to 13,000—­bolstered, in part, by the arrival of refugees from Asia Minor in 1922–1923 and, in 1936–1937, by a second wave of Greeks from southern Rus­sia, who had been forced to flee b­ ecause of their refusal to apply for Soviet citizenship.13 In the 1950s and 1960s, however, Argos—­like many towns throughout Greece—­also saw an influx of population from the mountain villages of the Argolid as well as the Peloponnese more generally. Between 1923 and 1971, the population of Argos doubled; ­there was a 12.7 ­percent growth in the de­cade 1961–1971 alone.14 One of the primary ­factors for this “internal migration” was a re­orientation of the agricultural economy of the Argive plain away from polyculture ­toward the extensive cultivation of citrus orchards. In 1950, the most impor­tant agricultural products, apart from cereals, ­were cotton, tobacco, tomatoes, and vines; or-



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anges counted for only around 200 hectares. But by 1980, 18,000 hectares ­were given over to oranges, while vines accounted for only 250 hectares.15 And, again as elsewhere, Argive residents realized that, in addition to responding to a need for housing, a handsome profit could be made by tearing down the traditional one-­and two-­story ­houses of the town and erecting, in their place, multiple-­ occupancy tenement blocks (polykatikies), the first of which was constructed in 1961.16 As construction on public and private buildings as well as infrastructural utilities picked up pace, it was only inevitable that remnants of the ancient city under­lying the modern town would be brought to light, thereby necessitating rescue excavations to determine the significance of the finds. To the extent that they are determined by ­factors extrinsic to archaeological considerations and are typically conducted at multiple locations within an urban environment, rescue excavations offer invaluable evidence for the reconstruction of ancient settlements, even if they are l­imited by constraints of time and personnel and are seldom published in more than preliminary fashion.17 From the point of view of property o ­ wners, however, they are extremely disruptive. Once a request for planning permission for development is filed, the Ephoria (the regional subdivision of the state Archaeological Ser­vice) schedules a trial excavation but, with finite resources at its disposal, a considerable amount of time can elapse before the rescue excavation commences. By 1990, the waiting time was typically one to two years and, of the roughly 6,000 buildings at Argos, about 500 (8.3 ­percent) had been subject to a rescue excavation, with an average of eigh­teen such excavations being conducted each year, though the figure often exceeded forty in the 1970s.18 If remains are discovered during the rescue excavation, then building activity is suspended for a further year and if ­those remains are ultimately deemed to be historically significant, then the property may be expropriated—­ something that had happened in eleven cases by 1979. Even then, however, the pro­cessing of compensation payments could take a further one to two years. And the costs to the state are not insignificant: in 1979, the expenses incurred by expropriating land amounted to 309 million drachmas, at a time when the total annual bud­get for the Archaeological Receipts Fund was 350 million drachmas.19

Preservation or Pro­gress? It is, then, l­ ittle won­der that tensions began to flare up between local residents and “outsider” archaeologists, w ­ hether they represented the state Archaeological Ser­vice or a foreign school such as the École Française d’Athènes. As the

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late François Croissant noted, the population of Argos “was in no way prepared to sacrifice its immediate economic interests for the preservation of an archaeological heritage that could only appear to its eyes as an obstacle to the normal development of the town.”20 Elsewhere, he rec­ords how, in the late 1960s, the town’s mayor—­presumably Georgios Thomopoulos—­exclaimed: “all the same, one should know if this town was made for the dead or for the living.”21 It is worth recalling that, for Michel Foucault, the cemetery constituted a classic example of a heterotopia so, in a sense, the mayor was repudiating the heterotopic and heterochronic landscape that had been created by archaeologists and t­ hose concerned with conserving the town’s archaeological heritage. Vasilis Dorovinis also charts a distinct change in attitude on the part of the local press in this period. Columns and notices on archaeological ­matters in newspapers of the 1880s and 1890s w ­ ere largely the result of a small, educated elite wishing to educate the broader public. By contrast, press coverage in the “Vollgraff years,” while not always positive, does seem to indicate a broader social investment in the archaeological heritage of Argos. By the 1970s, however, newspapers had begun to echo the complaints of local property o ­ wners that the archaeologists w ­ ere obstructing development in the town. In Dorovinis’s view, part of the reason for this was that many of ­those property ­owners ­were recently arrived residents who had no intergenerational links with the area.22 It is not, however, clear that families who have been settled in Argos for many years are any more tolerant of what are perceived to be bureaucratic obstacles to development. Nor are newcomers necessarily detached from issues of cultural heritage: David Lowenthal has argued that it was precisely to compensate for their own lack of local roots that newcomers to old En­glish villages took a keen interest in local history, often coming to dominate historical and preservation socie­ties.23 Despite appearances to the contrary, urban plans for Argos ­were actually drawn up in the postwar period—in the 1950s, in 1960, and again in 1973. Like their Kapodistrian pre­de­ces­sors, they took ­little to no account of the archaeological remains of the town: to use the meta­phor of the palimpsest, they ­were unconstrained by the hypotexts. Indeed, in the 1973 plan—­which was not approved—­the “archaeological zone” was confined to a small block in the southeastern quadrant of the current archaeological area of the ancient agora.24 In 1978, Pierre Aupert, the secretary general of the École Française, together with Pierre Amandry and Olivier Picard, president and president-­elect, respectively, announced a collaborative Franco-­Greek proj­ect with the Fourth Ephorate of Prehistoric and Classical Antiquities, headed by Charalambos Kritzas. The objective was to synthesize, rec­ord, and map the findings of both



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regular and rescue excavations throughout the town as well as to conduct a study on the relationship between archaeology and urbanism.25 More controversially, perhaps, the proj­ect proceeded to define and demarcate archaeological “zones” and—­just as significantly—­“neoclassical” (i.e., nineteenth-­and early twentieth-­century) buildings that required protection.26 On this basis, three types of zone ­were defined. The first covered properties where t­ here was a “low archaeological risk”: rescue excavations would still be required before construction or redevelopment, but expropriation would take place only for truly significant discoveries. The second zone included properties where a higher density of archaeological material had already been recorded. ­Here, more systematic excavations and of longer duration than was typical for most rescue excavations would be mandated. Consequently, it was proposed that the ­owners of property in this zone would need to declare their intention to apply for a construction permit at least one year in advance so that a decision ­whether or not to expropriate the land could be taken before the permit was requested. The third zone, or Archaeological Zone of Protection, designated the area around the Hellenistic theater and agora, where it was proposed to conduct a partial reconstruction (anastylosis) of monuments such as the π-­shaped stoa and the round nymphaeum. This would require a systematic expropriation of property, and the original hope was to employ the so-­called Manos Law (no. 880 of March 22, 1979) to compensate o ­ wners whose land had been expropriated by transferring their title to another property of comparable value.27 Initially, at least, the expectation was that this transfer of property would be eco­nom­ically feasible. In the central area, where rescue excavations had brought to light numerous and significant finds, the price of land was 5,000 drachmas per square meter; by contrast, in the “development zone” to the south—­the only direction in which the town could expand, due to the Larisa and Aspis hills to the west and north and the Xirias river to the north and east—­ the price was between 1,500 and 2,000 drachmas.28 It soon became clear, however, that the provisions of the Manos Law would not apply to this sort of transaction.29 In retrospect, the timing of the initiative was unfortunate. This was, of course, precisely the period in which passions ­were especially inflamed concerning the f­uture of the Kapodistrian cavalry barracks. N ­ eedless to say, archaeologists from both the Fourth Ephorate of the Greek Archaeological Ser­vice and the École Française ­were strongly supportive of the “preservationists.” So too, by and large, was the newly formed Cultural Association of Argos (Politistikos Omilos Argous, POA) but it was not necessarily as supportive of other aspects of the town’s archaeological heritage. An unsigned note in

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the archives of the École Française, dated June 20, 1980, rec­ords a meeting with a Mr. Thamos from POA. It notes that POA has not directly addressed the issue of rescue excavations but that the “blocking” of sites for two to three years (i.e., while awaiting rescue excavations and then a determination of ­whether or not to expropriate) explains the opposition of local inhabitants. The École Française is also criticized for abandoning vacant lots once excavations have finished—­a charge, it w ­ ill be recalled, that had also been leveled in the local press at Vollgraff. The report concludes that POA acknowledges the prob­lem of “savage urban development” but proposes no solutions.30 As we have seen, complaints against Pierre Aupert w ­ ere lodged with the French embassy in Athens and, on December 13, 1981, the Argive newspaper Argiakon Vima (edited by the ardent “de­mo­li­tionist” and former mayor, Thomopoulos) accused the École Française of interference in urban m ­ atters that w ­ ere more properly the 31 concern of Argive citizens only. In other words, while the 1980s witnessed increased tension between a not insignificant segment of the local population and the archaeologists of the Greek state, French archaeologists ­were regarded with even more suspicion and resentment by virtue of being doubly outsiders.32 Some ele­ments of the local press even resorted to invoking the infamous massacre of Argive residents by French soldiers in January 1833.33 The collaboration between the Fourth Ephorate and the École Française regarding the coordinated mapping of excavations undertaken by the two bodies proved to be highly successful and im­mensely beneficial for subsequent archaeological research on Argos.34 The proposals for the protection of cultural heritage, on the other hand, w ­ ere always g­ oing to be unrealistically ambitious even if some ele­ments of the Franco-­Hellenic archaeological initiative ­were ­adopted by the Urban Reconstruction Proj­ect (Epichirisis Poleodomikis Anasyngrotisis, EPA), which was launched in 1983 and charged with drawing up a new urban plan. The plan, published in 1985, proposed the creation of an archaeological park—­a landscaped pedestrianized zone that would unite the remains west of Tripoleos Street (the Hellenistic theater, Baths A, the odeion, and the sanctuary of Aphrodite) with the ancient agora to the east. The idea was quite self-­consciously based on the esplanade that was projected—­ though never realized—on Borroczyn’s urban plan for Kapodistrias, except that its new incarnation would lead visitors ­toward, rather than away from, the archaeological remains. The program for reconstruction was extended, to possibly include the bouleuterion and Baths A, while ­there ­were suggestions that the old Karmoyiannis Café, which occupies the northwest corner of the current agora site, be renovated and reopened to the public. The park was intended to be a sort of “oasis,” sandwiched between the original extent of the town to the north and the new projected zone of development to the south.



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Its realization would entail not only expropriations in the immediate vicinity of the park but also the southward extension of Danaou Street to divert traffic away from the area, the pedestrianization of Theatrou Street and parts of Gounari Street and Tripoleos Street, and the construction of a bypass to the east of the town.35 In their original proposal for an archaeological park in 1980, Gilles Reynal and Hubert Rio had warned that the idea would face strong opposition from ­those residents most directly affected and that it was critical to demonstrate the benefits that the park would bring to the town.36 In the end, that was something of an understatement. The EPA plan was met with a series of violent objections from t­hose who w ­ ere affected the most. Anger was especially directed ­toward the mayor, Georgios Pirounis—­who, ironically, had been a power­ful advocate for the de­mo­li­tion of the cavalry barracks—­and this discontent may have contributed to his defeat in the elections of 1986. In 1998, part of the urban plan for the northern sector of the town (from Vasilissis Sofias Street to Neos Kosmos on the northeastern outskirts of the town) was implemented but the development of the southern part of the town was delayed by ­legal and administrative objections, requiring it to be modified and resubmitted to the Ministry for the Environment, Physical Planning, and Public Works in December 2002. Although it was approved by the ministry, the General Secretariat of the Peloponnese Region successfully appealed against it and, in 2006, a new plan had to be commissioned.37 Meanwhile, the contribution of the École Française declined—­partly due to some disagreements as to how the proj­ect was to be financed and partly ­because the École began to devote more interest and attention to other sites such as Delphi, Delos, Thasos, and Mallia.38 In July 2010, a resolution (no. 1841/2010) by the general secretary of the Peloponnese that approved the new General Urban Plan for Argos still made provision for an archaeological park that would also involve an extension of Danaou Street and the pedestrianization of Tripoleos Street in the vicinity of the Hellenistic theater.39 Ten years on, however, ­little vis­ib­ le pro­gress has been made. A controversial redevelopment of the town center has been realized, funded at a cost of 7.5 million euros by the Eu­ro­pean Union’s National Strategic Reference Network. The plan has involved the remodeling of St. Peter’s Square to accommodate artificial pools and the pedestrianization of the northern stretch of Danaou Street as well as the renovation and pedestrianization of the market square in front of the Kapodistrian barracks. But the sites of the ancient agora, theater, Baths A, and the odeion are largely abandoned and, for much of the year, overgrown. And, while t­ here has been a tidying-up, consolidation, and partial reconstruction of the ­castle on the summit of the

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Larisa, at a cost of 945,000 euros, the steep and winding unpaved road that leads to the summit makes access challenging to faint-­hearted ­drivers and virtually impossible for tourist buses.40

The F­ uture of Heritage? In the spring of 1990, at the height of the collaboration between the Fourth Ephorate of Prehistoric and Classical Antiquities and the École Française d’Athènes, a conference was held on the topography and urban planning of Argos. In a paper outlining the development of Argos following in­de­pen­dence, the architect Kostas Kolokotsas offered three proposals for safeguarding the archaeological heritage of the town. First, in weighing the par­ameters of development, the historicity of Argos, as materialized heterochronically in the fusion of archaeological finds and more recent monuments with the life of the city ­today, should occupy the primary role. Second, the archaeological remains should be functionally connected with one another—as in the plans for an archaeological park—so as to constitute a pole of cultural attraction. And third, a mechanism should be developed for dealing with the negative consequences of rescue excavations so that the financial burden should fall on society at large rather than individual proprietors.41 ­These are all laudable objectives but how might they be achieved—­especially since development in the town shows no signs of slowing? Indeed, the Greek government proj­ects that the population of Argos in 2021 w ­ ill be around 36,000 (an 18 ­percent rise from 2011).42 The solution to the third proposal is purely economic. This is not to downplay the challenges in a country whose economy has been wrecked over the past de­cade by the sovereign debt crisis, the waves of mi­grant and refugee arrivals, and the negative effects of the Covid-19 pandemic, and where, according to Eurostat, only 0.8 ­percent of GDP in 2018 was devoted to recreation, culture, and religion—­lower than the Eu­ro­pean Union average of 1.1 ­percent.43 Nevertheless, despite ­these challenges, the key to addressing the issue is relatively straightforward. The realization of the second proposal is also economic to a certain degree, though it prompts the question: cultural attraction for whom? Presumably, the hope is that the proposed archaeological park would foster the sort of cultural tourism that Georges Daux had i­magined in 1961 (see above), but t­ here are practical limitations. The relatively underdeveloped area to the south of the town certainly offers more accessibility and potential space for parking than the urban center, where the narrow, heavi­ly trafficked streets and lack of public parking pre­sent huge obstacles to attracting visitors



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to the recently opened Byzantine Museum of the Argolid. But it is not at all clear that the proposed archaeological park offers enough to encourage cultural tourism on a larger scale. The Hellenistic theater and Baths A are, it is true, impressive enough but the few buildings that have been excavated in the ancient agora, even if they w ­ ere partially restored, are unlikely to persuade the numerous tourists who regularly visit Mycenae and Nafplio to divert their route to the other side of the plain. It is Kolokotsas’s first proposal, however, that is the most intractable. One of the limitations of cultural heritage management is that it is too often content simply to aver the importance of history, as if it w ­ ere a self-­evident truth, rather than explain—­let alone demonstrate—­why history is something about which the general public should care. At first sight, Greece would appear to offer some grounds for optimism. In a 2019 poll of 2,000 Greek adults aged between eigh­teen and sixty-­four, conducted by the research polling com­pany Ipsos, 78 ­percent responded that they ­were proud of their country’s history. This was true across vari­ous constituencies even if the response was lower among the group that the poll dubs “Greek multiculturals”—­that is, younger, better-­educated Greeks who considered themselves less religious. By contrast, in a similar poll, only 52 ­percent of Italians expressed pride in their national history.44 Indeed, it is fair to say that the proj­ect to cultivate a national consciousness has been far more successful in Greece than it has in Italy. An impor­ tant vector in this proj­ect, ever since the foundation of the Greek state in the 1830s, has been state-­controlled education.45 Even ­today, and unlike in Italy, the choice of history textbooks and curriculum employed in Greek schools is dictated by the Ministry of Education.46 On closer inspection, however, such optimism may prove to be more illusory. In a centrally and tightly controlled education system that promotes the nation’s history as an essential and necessary criterion of Greek identity, it is hardly surprising that respondents should evaluate history positively. But it is one t­ hing to affirm the importance of history in abstract terms, quite another to rank it among one’s personal priorities in practical interactions with the local environment. Despite the strong expression of pride in history, the Ipsos poll also found that 54 ­percent of respondents believed that Greek identity is currently disappearing. Furthermore, when asked what concerns w ­ ere paramount in respondents’ minds, t­hose that topped the poll ­were—­predictably enough—­not the preservation of the past but the economy and unemployment.47 Indeed, a 2009 survey of 213 school students across eight randomly selected schools in northern Greece seems to confirm what anecdotal experiences might have suggested: while a majority of respondents agreed that history was impor­tant for knowing about their “ancestors” and that learning

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about their origins instilled national pride, they also believed that this historical knowledge would prove useless in their everyday life.48 For as long as cultural resource management operates as a top-­down technology of government, “mobilized by public policy makers to help them ‘govern’ or regulate the expression of social and cultural identity,” it is unlikely to enjoy more than l­imited success.49 As Vassilis Voutsakis, who teaches the philosophy of law at the National and Kapodistrian University of Athens, argues, “the state is supposed to avoid the pitfalls of paternalism. The state which protects cultural heritage out of re­spect for the autonomy of the person does not attempt to impose and indoctrinate the values of the past—­but rather it guarantees to each person the right to reflect on ­these.” For Voutsakis, in other words, the rationale for the preservation of cultural heritage lies less in some state-­initiated appeal to an ­imagined social or national community and more in guaranteeing the autonomy of the individual. First, cultural heritage offers the materials for a critical self-­reflection on the trajectory that leads to our own existence. Second, exposure to the ways in which cultural materials have been variously read, engaged with, and interpreted offers a channel of communication “that enriches our experience and sharpens our receptivity and perceptiveness.” And third, cultural heritage “compels us to become aware of, and to reconcile ourselves with our own limitations in the face of time and past achievements.”50 For the residents of Argos, as for the inhabitants of the Cretan town of Rethymno studied by Michael Herzfeld, “history is experienced both as an immanent property and as an external threat.”51 But, rather than simply resisting the “monumental time” or official discourse of the nation-­state, a more promising goal might be to “domesticate” areas of the official, historical past so as to “absorb the notion of cultural heritage into the much more immediate concern . . . ​with filial inheritance,” and to “recast the very idea of a national heritage as that of a dowry—­a common trust whose beneficiaries should at least be able to make real use of it.”52 What is needed, in other words, is a consciousness of individual and personal investment in the cultural heritage of the town—­the notion that residents of all walks of life are stakeholders. That this is not entirely beyond reach is demonstrated by the widespread investment of Argive citizens in their town’s past during Vollgraff ’s excavation campaigns in the first three de­cades of the twentieth c­ entury. Prior to this, a small coterie of local entrepreneurs had catered to a largely foreign clientele and, in the latter part of the nineteenth c­ entury, a narrow local intelligent­sia, whereas, in the postwar de­cades, a growing gulf reemerged between local residents and the archaeologists from the Greek Ministry of Culture and the École Française d’Athènes.



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To be sure, t­ here is a role for economic incentives h ­ ere also. A recent study by three Greek economists argues that “cultural heritage contributes to sustainable growth through merging modernity and tradition.”53 Since fewer than half of all tourists to Greece visit historical monuments, t­here is the potential for the development of cultural heritage management. Even a 10 ­percent increase in visits to monuments could generate a 1.2 ­percent increase in per capita income—­and perhaps double that if “intangible cultural events” such as festivals and exhibitions are taken into account.54 Another study that examined the traditional town of Røros in Norway discovered that the local cultural heritage industry had created jobs that account for 7 ­percent of overall employment in the region, though the authors caution that ­there are costs as well as benefits to cultural heritage.55 Indeed, a case-­study of issues of cultural heritage management in France points out that substantial economic benefits may not be forthcoming in small towns (such as Argos) that are not eco­nom­ically integrated with the surrounding area and thus lack adequate resources of l­abor, goods, and ser­vices.56 As noted above, the antiquities at Argos are never likely to attract the same numbers of visitors as other sites in the Argive plain. Just as unlikely—­once more for economic reasons—is the prospect of ever again employing up to 100 local laborers on archaeological digs, as Vollgraff did. But, as I point out in chapter 5, ­these laborers ­were hired for only a few weeks in the summer and seldom on a recurrent annual basis. Such economic benefits as accrued to the town as a result ­were largely indirect rather than direct. More importantly, the local press seems to attest to a widespread engagement with the town’s past that was not primarily influenced by economic considerations. In the 1990s, Odysseas Koumadorakis, a teacher at Argos’s Fourth High School, recruited his students for a proj­ect that explored the local history—­ancient, medieval, and modern—of Argos. The resulting book was based on a gazetteer of the names of roads and squares, portrait busts of largely historical figures, and protected buildings, to which students appended historical commentaries.57 In a sense, by employing topographical “cues” for historical accounts, the proj­ect was not so dif­fer­ent from that of Pausanias more than eigh­teen centuries e­ arlier. The pride and self-­worth that students experienced in engaging with their town’s past is patent on almost e­ very page. To what extent, one generation on, that experience has conditioned the former students’ attitudes to Argos’s cultural heritage is more difficult to assess. Surely, however, further initiatives along similar lines would be a welcome stimulus to fostering individual autonomy, to ensuring that every­body has a stake in the town’s cultural heritage, and to encouraging the view that conservation and development need not be mutually exclusive.

N ote s

The following abbreviations are used in the notes and references list: Archives and Collections

AEP AIA CJC

EFA GGE JFA

Αρχεία της Ελληνικής Παλιγγενεσίας. 25 vols. Athens: Parliament of the Hellenic Republic, 1857–2012. Online at https://­ paligenesia​.­parliament​.­g r​/­periexomena​.­php. T. A. Gritsopoulos and K. L. Kotsonis, eds. 1994. Αργολικόν Ιστορικόν Αρχείον (1791–1878) (Πελοποννησιακά 20). Athens: Eteria Peloponnesiakon Spoudon. Correspondance du comte J. Capodistrias, président de la Grèce: Comprenant les lettres diplomatiques, administratives et particulières, écrites par lui depuis le 20 avril 1827 jusqu’au 9 octobre 1831, recueillies et mises en ordre par les soins de ses frères et publiées par E. A. Betant, l’un de ses secrétaires. 4 vols. Geneva: Cherbuliez, 1939. Archives of the École Française d’Athènes. Γενικά Αρχεῖα τοῦ Κράτους: Γενική Γραμματεία τῆς Ἐπικρατείας. W. Vollgraff, Journal de fouilles d’Argos (1902–1930).

Newspapers

Ἀγαμέμνων: Ἐφημερὶς πολιτικὴ καὶ δικαστικὴ (Argos) Ἀγροτικὴ Ἀργολίς: Ἐφημερὶς τοῦ Συλλὀγου Γεωργοκτηματίων Ἐπαρχίας Ἄργους (Argos) Argolis Ἡ Ἀργολίς: Ἐφημερὶς τοῦ λαοῦ (Nafplio) Argos (I) Ὁ Ἄργος (Napflio) Argos (II) Ἀργος: Ἐφημερίς τοῦ λαοῦ (Argos) Argos (III) Ἀργος: ῎Οργανον τῶν συμφερόντων τοῦ Ἀργειακοῦ λαοῦ (Argos) Aspis tou Argous Ἀσπίς τοῦ Ἄργους (Argos) Avgi Αὐγή (Athens) Danaïs Δαναῒς: Μηνιαῖα ἐπιθεώρησις πολιτικὴ καὶ οίκονομικὴ τοῦ Νομοῦ Ἀργολίδος καὶ Κορινθίας (Athens) Danaos (I) Δαναὸς: Ἐφημερὶς τοῦ λαοῦ (Argos) Danaos (II) Δαναὸς: Ἐφημερὶς τοῦ ὁμωνύμου Συλλόγου (Argos) Erasinos Ἐρασῖνος: Ἐφημερὶς πολιτικὴ καὶ τῶν εἰδήσεων (Argos) Agamemnon Agrotiki Argolis

181

18 2 NOTES

Estia FEK–­AAP Inachos Keri Mykine Panargiaki Telesilla

Ἐστία (Athens) Το Φύλλο της Εφημερίδας του Κυβερνήσεως: Τεύχος Αναγκαστικών Απαλλοτριώσεων και Πολεοδομικών Θεμάτων (Athens) Ἴναχος: Ἐφημερὶς τοῦ ὁμωνὺμου λαϊκοὺ Συλλόγου (Argos) Καῖροι (Athens) Μυκήναι: Ἐφημερὶς κοινωνικὴ καὶ τῶν εἰδήσεων (Argos) Παναργειακή: Ἐφημερὶς κοινωνιολογικὴ, φιλολογικὴ καὶ πολιτικὴ (Argos) Τελεσίλλα: Ἐφημερὶς αγροτικὴ τοπικῶν συμφερόντων (Argos)

Corpora of Inscriptions

IG SEG

Inscriptiones Graecae Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum

Periodicals

AA AAA AD AG

Archäologischer Anzeiger Ἀρχαιολογικὰ Ἀνάλεκτα ἐξ Ἀθηνῶν Archaeological Dialogues Αργειακή Γη: Επιστημονική και λογοτεχνική έκδοση της Κοινωφελοὐς Επιχείρησης Δήμου Άργους-­Μυκηνών AHR American Historical Review AICA Annali dell’Istituto di Corrispondenza Archeologica AJA American Journal of Archaeology AJAHFA American Journal of Archaeology and of the History of the Fine Arts AnnPisa Annali della Scuola normale superiore di Pisa AntCl L’Antiquité Classique ArchDelt Αρχαιολογικόν Δελτἰον ASAtene Annuario della Scuola Archeologica di Atene ATh Αρχιτεκτονικά Θέματα AZ Archäologische Zeitung BAGB Bulletin de l’Association Guillaume Budé BASOR Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research BCH Bulletin de Correspondance Hellénique CPhil Classical Philology CQ Classical Quarterly CRAI Comptes rendus des séances de l’Académie des inscriptions et belles-­lettres DeltArch Δελτίον Αρχαιολογικόν DHA Dialogues d’Histoire Ancienne EMAAA Επετηρίς του Μεσσαιωνικού Αρχείου της Ακαδημίας των Αθηνών ESRP Eu­ro­pean Spatial Research and Policy HSR Historical Social Research IJCT International Journal of the Classical Tradition JCH Journal of Cultural Heritage JFA Journal of Field Archaeology

NOTES TO PA G ES 1 – 9

JHS JMGS JRS MdI MPRA NRRSL OpAth PBSR PP PSBS RA RHR SAQ ZPE

183

Journal of Hellenic Studies Journal of Modern Greek Studies Journal of Roman Studies Mitteilungen des deutschen archäologischen Instituts Munich Personal Research Papers in Economics Archive Notes and Rec­ords of the Royal Society of London Opuscula Atheniensia Papers of the British School at Rome Past and Pre­sent Procedia Social and Behavioral Sciences Revue archéologique Revue de l’histoire des religions South Atlantic Quarterly Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik

Introduction

1. Interview with Brian Kilmeade, “Fox Nation,” Fox News, June 28, 2020. https:// www.youtube.com/watch?v=ldJuOpx2HR0. 2. For the concept of archaeological stakeholders: Zimmerman 2006. 3. Yalouri 2001; cf. Just 1995, 290. 4. Nora 1989, 12; see Nora 1996–1998. For an application of notions of landscape, place, and social memory to Greek antiquity, see Alcock 2002. 5. Halbwachs 1992, 200. 6. Dorovinis 1979b; 1987; 2013, 46; 2017a; EFA ARGOS 3-­A-1b. 7. Philippides 2008, 375–76. Since I am concerned more with the physical remnants of Argos’s past rather than, say, traditions, songs, dances, or folklore, I ­will talk in terms of “archaeological heritage,” although it should be understood that archaeological heritage is but one specific type of cultural heritage. 8. FEK-­AAP 153 ( June 28, 2002). See Loukaki 2008, 161; Voutsakis 2017. 9. Voutsakis 2017, 200. 10. Smith 2004, 2. 11. Skopetea 1988, 197; Gourgouris 1996, 147. 12. Herzfeld 1987, 43–44. 13. Betts and Ross 2015, 13, 19–20. 14. Smith 2004, 5. 15. Lowenthal 1985, 385. 16. Voudouri 2017, 77–78. 17. Lowenthal 1985, 394–95; Betts and Ross 2015, 7–8. 18. Lowenthal 1985, 13; Smith and Waterton 2009, 51. 19. Carman 2002, 19; cf. Lowenthal 1985, 41–46; Smith 2004, 2 20. Smith 2006, 83. 21. Loukaki 2008, 1. 22. Koumadorakis 2007, fig. 3; Argolika (October 1, 2018); Kondis 2018. 23. For contrapuntal readings of colonialist texts, see Said 1993. 24. Anderson and Rojas 2017b, 2.

18 4 NOTES

TO PAGES 9 –1 5

25. Fabian 1983, 31. Cf. Rojas (2017, 15), who notes that ancient authors, no less than modern archaeologists, have tended to dismiss local opinions as “primitive, fanciful, or the like.” His explanation for this is that “foreign interpreters of the past had usually traveled whereas local ­people interested in their own antiquities had not.” 26. Herzfeld 2002, 900–901. 27. Hamilakis 2007, 20, 291; 2008, 275. Cf. Calotychos 2003, 49: “Of course, Greek society was not colonized in the traditional po­liti­cal sense. But dynamics of power can still be discerned despite differences in the historical specificities.” 28. Leontis 1995, 68; Fleming 2000, 1221. 29. Leontis 1997, 126. 30. Herzfeld 1987, 65. 31. Herzfeld 1987, 7, 19. 32. Leigh Fermor 1966, 106. 33. Kaplanis 2014. 34. Kakridis 1978, 17–27; Kaplanis 2014, 88–90. See, however, Stouraiti (2014, 30–31), who argues for the existence of “impor­tant alternative local perceptions of the classical past during the early modern period,” especially in Venetian-­ruled Greek territories. 35. Herzfeld 1991, 10. 36. Cf. Calotychos 2003, 48: “The monumental time of the diaspora/philhellene discourse suppressed ‘social’ time, the lifeworld of the autochthonous Greeks.” 37. Herzfeld 1997, 165. 38. Matalas 2017, 46. 39. Stouraiti 2014. 40. Calotychos 2003, 52. 41. Hamilakis 2007, 112–23. 42. Kardarakou 2012; cf. Necipoğlu 2008 on the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem. 43. Genette 1992; 1997. 44. Kardarakou 2012, 12 (citing Stavridis 2006). 45. Kardarakou 2012, 67. 46. Kardarakou 2012, 74. 47. Hall 2014, 9. For textual readings of material culture: Moore 1986; Hodder 1991. 48. Bianchi Bandinelli 1985, 37. 49. Dyson 1981, 10. 50. Kardarakou 2012, 87. 51. E.g., Leontis 1995, 40–66; Hamilakis 2007, 17; Plantzos 2008, 14–15; Tziovas 2014a, 3. 52. Foucault 1966, 10. 53. Foucault 1984. The translation is that of Jay Miskowiec, available online at https://­foucault​.­info​/­documents​/­heterotopia​/­foucault​.­heteroTopia​.­en​/­. 54. Leontis 1995, 43. 55. Leontis 1995, 44. 56. Leontis 1995, 44. 57. Lefebvre 1991. 58. Soja 1996, 10–11, 62, 65–68. 59. For an exception, see Maier 2013.

NOTES TO PA G ES 2 1 – 3 0

185

1. A Greek Town for 6,000 Years

1. Despite the arguments of Vollgraff (1907, 165–69), ­there are good reasons for thinking that, in antiquity, the name Aspis designated the southeastern flank of the Larisa hill (Lambrinoudakis 1969–1970), if it was not an alternative name for the Larisa itself (Croissant 1972). ­Earlier travelers also often used to refer to it as the hill of Phoroneus. To avoid confusion, the modern usage ­will be ­adopted ­here. 2. Piteros 1998, 179–85; Marchetti 2000, 279. 3. Hughes 1830, 197; Kofiniotis 1892, 5. 4. Piérart and Touchais 1996. 5. Piérart and Touchais 1996, 13–20; Piérart 2004a, 599. 6. Vollgraff 1928, 320; Viret-­Bernal 1992, 66–68; Piteros 2013, 337–39. 7. Foley 1988, 24; Siriopoulos 1989, 323; Touchais and Divari-­Balakou 1998, 12. 8. Aupert 1982, 24; Hägg 1982; Hall 1997, 93–99; Touchais and Divari-­Balakou 1998, 14–16. 9. Courbin 1966; 1974; Hägg 1974; Foley 1988, 34–40, 47–52, 56–59, 80–96; Rolley 1992. 10. Piteros 2013. 11. Huxley 1958, 598; Forrest 1960, 225–26; Tomlinson 1972, 68, 84, 196; Kelly 1976, 132–38; Drews 1983, 61–66; Carlier 1984, 381–94; Hall 2021. 12. Andrewes 1956, 36–41; Tomlinson 1972, 79–86; Kelly 1976, 94–111; Carlier 1984, 389; Foley 1995, 84–85; Koiv 2003, 239–97; Ragone 2006, 30–35; Hall 2021. 13. Brelich 1961: 80–84; Kelly 1970, 983–84; 1976, 139; Robertson 1992, 179–80. 14. Willetts 1959; Forrest 1960; Lotze 1959; Tomlinson 1972, 97–99; Moggi 1974, 1263; Van Compernolle 1975, 360–61; Graf 1984; Vidal-­Naquet 1986, 205–23; Totsikas 1994; Sauzeau 1999; Piérart 2003, 281; 2004b, 177–78; Bourke 2011; Bershadsky 2013, 316–24; Hall 2021. 15. Tomlinson 1972, 74–78; Kelly 1976, 60–72. 16. Hall 1995. 17. Gehrke 1985, 361–63; Piérart 1997, 333. 18. Forrest 1960. 19. Kofiniotis 1892, 382–429; Tomlinson 1972, 116–25; Piérart and Touchais 1996, 44–46, 56–57; Hornblower 2002, 75–85. 20. Kofiniotis 1892, 432–67; Tomlinson 1972, 126–46; Piérart and Touchais 1996, 57–63; Hornblower 2002, 85–88. 21. Kofiniotis 1892, 467–72; Tomlinson 1972, 147–51; Piérart and Touchais 1996, 63–65. 22. Kofiniotis 1892, 472–90; Tomlinson 1972, 151–63; Piérart and Touchais 1996, 65–70; Witmore 2018, 280–81. 23. Kofiniotis 1892, 496–506; Tomlinson 1972, 164–72; Piérart and Touchais 1996, 71–72. 24. Piérart and Touchais 1996, 72–79. 25. Piérart and Touchais 1996, 84–85. 26. Marchetti 2000, 284 fig. 3; 2013, 321. 27. For the importance of the Seven against Thebes to the identity of ancient Argos, Hall 1997, 97–98; 2007, 336–38.

18 6 NOTES

TO PAGES 3 0 –3 4

28. Pariente 1992; Ivantchik 2013, 407–9. Marchetti (1993, 221) suggests that the Fire of Phoroneus was transferred to its fourth-­century position from an original location, perhaps to the north. 29. Oikonomou-­Laniado 2003, 3. 30. Croissant 1969, 1009; Abadie-­Reynal 1998, 398; Oikonomou-­Laniado 2003, 5. 31. Piérart and Touchais 1996, 87; Oikonomou-­Laniado 2003, 5. 32. Panayiotopoulou 1998; Abadie-­Reynal 1998, 398–99. 33. Oikonomou-­Laniado 2003, 17–21. Genethlios, bishop of Argos, was among the signatories at the Council of Constantinople in 448 while Onesimos was named as Bishop of Argos at the Council of Chalcedon in 451: Bon 1951, 8; Oikonomou-­ Laniado 2003, 4. 34. Vollgraff 1907, 161; Bon 1951, 7; Banaka-­Dimaki, Panayiotopoulou, and Oikonomou-­Laniado 1998, 331; Abadie-­Reynal 1998, 399; Oikonomou-­Laniado 2003, 11–12. 35. Abadie-­Reynal 1998, 400; Oikonomou-­Laniado 2003, 2. 36. Yannopoulos 1980; Jameson, Runnels, and van Andel 1994, 115. 37. Oikonomou-­Laniado 2003, 2–3, 9. 38. Piérart and Touchais 1996, 92. It does not, however, appear in historical sources ­until ca. 1700 CE: Koumadorakis 2007, 556. The monastery is also known as the Virgin of the Rock (Panagia tou Vrachou) and the Virgin of the Oranges (Panagia Portokalousa). 39. Vasiliev 1947; Zenginis 1996, 331. Translation in Kaldellis and Polemis 2019, 117–61. 40. Hadji-­Minaglou 2013; this contradicts the opinion of Zenginis 1996, 333–34, who argued that the church must have been built in the early tenth ­century to accommodate the remains of St. Peter the Thaumaturge. In 1699, during the Second Venetian Occupation, the church was restored following an earthquake. 41. Vollgraff 1928, 318; Bon 1969, 491; Bouras 1987, modifying the comments of Andrews 2006, 114 (originally published in 1953). 42. Piérart and Touchais 1996, 93–94. 43. Bon 1951, 109–10; Zenginis 1996, 179; Korobokis 2002. The formerly in­de­pen­ dent bishoprics of Argos and Nafplio w ­ ere prob­ably united in 1166 but certainly a­ fter 879, when both bishops ­were represented separately at the Council of Constantinople. 44. Bon 1951, 83–84; Piérart and Touchais 1996, 94. 45. Kofiniotis 1892, 21; Bon 1969, 55, 68; Setton 1976, 21–22; Peppas 1990, 14. 46. Tozer 1883, 171; Kofiniotis 1892, 21; Setton 1976, 405–6. 47. Tozer 1883, 171. The Chronicle of the Morea exists in four versions, of which three (in French, Italian, and Aragonese) are written in prose, while a fourth, Greek version is written in verse. The Greek version (known from manuscripts in Copenhagen and Paris, published and edited in Schmitt 1904) and the French version (published and edited in Buchon 1845), which extends the chronological coverage twelve years further to 1304, are thought to be closest to the original text. 48. Tozer 1883, 172; Kofiniotis 1892, 22; Bon 1969, 70; Setton 1976, 36–37. 49. Kofiniotis 1892, 22; Luttrell 1966, 34–37; Bon 1969, 187; Setton 1976, 441, 452–53. 50. Bon 1969, 676. 51. Bon 1969, 236.

NOTES TO PA G ES 3 4 – 3 8

187

52. Buchon 1843, 388; Tozer 1883, 183; Kofiniotis 1892, 22; Luttrell 1966, 38–39; Bon 1969, 236, 263; Zenginis 1996, 218. 53. Bon 1969, 263–69; Setton 1975, 247–52; Luttrell 1976, 47–48; Andrews 2006, 107; Fine 2009, 428–30. 54. Tozer 1883, 182–83; Kofiniotis 1892, 23; Luttrell 1966, 38; Setton 1975, 261; 1976, 472; Panayiotopoulos 1987, 103–4; Zenginis 1996, 220; Topping 2000, 28; Liata 2003, 34; Andrews 2006, 107. 55. Fine 2009, 540–41, 562. 56. Buchon 1843, 390; Kofiniotis 1892, 23; Zenginis 1996, 221; Liata 2003, 34; Fine 2009, 566–67. 57. Kofiniotis 1892, 23; cf. Gordon 1832, 1:73; Zenginis 1996, 222–23. The long-­ settled Albanian populations of central Greece and the northeast Peloponnese are conventionally called Arvanites. They participated enthusiastically and courageously in the Greek Revolutionary War and u ­ ntil very recently would regularly self-­define on census returns as Greeks despite speaking an Albanian dialect: see Trudgill and Tzavaras 1977; Bintliff 2003. 58. Finlay 1856, 218; Setton 1991, 297–98; Zenginis 1996, 225–26. 59. Malliaris 2007. 60. Leake 1826, 9–10. 61. Finlay 1856, 270–71; Brue 1870, 25–33. 62. Brue 1870, 22; Sève 1993, 11. 63. As Sève (1979, 62) notes, pilgrims to the Holy Land or Constantinople had l­ ittle reason to pass through the Peloponnese; cf. Eisner 1991, 40. 64. French translation in Jaubert 1840, 125. 65. Chesnau 1807, 158–59; Sève 1993, 9. 66. Kostakis 1980–1981, 279–80; Sève 1979, 166; 1998, 419. 67. Meynell 1993. 68. Text in Omont 1902, 1196. 69. Ginouvès 1955; Aupert 1985. 70. Le Bruyn 1725, 474–77; Sève 1979, 133, 229–31; 1993, 10, 28. 71. Coronelli 1686, 38–39. 72. The remains may be ­those that Leake (1830, 349) located near a ruined church at Dalamanara, three miles southeast of Argos. Leake describes ancient squared blocks and the shaft of a small Doric column and tentatively identifies the monument as the pyramidal sepulcher which, according to Pausanias (2.25.6), contained the remains of the Argives killed in the ­battle between the legendary kings Akrisios and Proitos. 73. Randolph 1689, 11. 74. Mirabal 1698, 60–62; Sève 1993, 11. 75. Simopoulos 1973, 95. 76. Bon 1969, 675; Dorovinis 1979b, 36; Zenginis 1996, 305; Chlepa 2003, 34; Liata 2003, 29–33; Andrews 2006, 113–14. 77. Mandis 2013, 19–20; Piérart 2013, 33. 78. Christie 1872. 79. Blouet et al. 1833, 93; cf. Constantine 1984, 9; Augustinos 1994, 87–92. For Fourmont’s boasts of his destructive tendencies, see Greenhalgh 2019, 227.

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TO PAGES 3 9 –4 2

80. Published in Sève 1979, 249–51. Sève (1993, 33–35) believes that Fourmont’s description is, in part, an imperfect recollection of Pausanias and, in part, pure imagination. Intriguingly, the correct function of Baths A is noted on one of Fourmont’s drawings but not in the text: Sève 1979, 132. 2. The Rediscovery of Argos

1. Constantine 1984, 188–209. For Chandler, see Eisner 1991, 74–75; Moore, Rowlands, and Karadimas 2014, 45. 2. Constantine 1984, 173–78; Boisset 2003, 143–44. 3. Sève 1993, 35–36; Augustinos 1994, 157–73; Mandis 2013, 20. For Foucherot, see Lowe 1936; Simopoulos 1973, 444. For Choiseul-­Gouffier, Eisner 1991, 80–81. 4. Sibthorp 1820, 87; Simopoulos 1973, 620; Sève 1979, 259; Nerantzis 2009, 222–24. 5. Bufalini 1997. 6. Pouqueville had been transported to the Peloponnese a­ fter being captured by pirates off the Calabrian coast while he was returning home from Napoleon’s Egyptian expedition, though he was granted freedom of movement while in Greece by the bey of Navarino. Shortly ­after his trip to Argos, he was taken to Constantinople and imprisoned in the Yedikule fortress ­until his release in 1801. In 1805, he was appointed Napoleon’s representative to the court of the Albanian renegade Ali Pasha of Ioannina. See further Eisner 1991, 95–96; Augustinos 1994, 251–53. 7. Pouqueville 1805, 394–95. That the paddy fields ­were commonly associated with ill health is also attested by Leake (1830, 348), who notes that “the vóvoida, judging that plantations of rice are injurious to health, has lately forbidden the increase of them in the district of Argos.” 8. Chateaubriand 1884, 56–58. ­England ­adopted the Gregorian calendar on September  2, 1752, skipping the following eleven days; Greece would not adopt the Gregorian calendar ­until February 16 / March 1, 1923. In the text that follows, dates are given in the format Julian (Old Style) / Gregorian (New Style). 9. Chateaubriand 1884, 59–60; see Simopoulos 1975a, 292–93. 10. Augustinos 1994, 188–94; Mandis 2013, 21. For Chateaubriand’s inventions and plagiarisms, see Eisner 1991, 96–97. 11. Marcellus 1859, 438; cited in Augustinos 1994, 191. 12. For Clarke, Dodwell, and Leake, see Simopoulos 1975a, 175, 422–24; Moore, Rowlands, and Karadimas 2014, 51–52, 69–70, 74. 13. Gell 1817, 167. See Simopoulos 1975a, 122; Moore, Rowlands, and Karadimas 2014, 63–66. 14. Cockerell 1903, 100. See Moore, Rowlands, and Karadimas 2014, 83–84. 15. Haygarth 1814, 249; Dodwell 1819, 217; Hughes 1830, 229; Kofiniotis 1892, 90; cf. Greenhalgh 2019, 483. Hughes (1830, 224) rec­ords that the Leda relief (BM 1973,0302.1) was procured and sold to the British Museum by Col­o­nel Charles Philippe de Bosset. Neumeier (2017, 143–44), who dates Veli’s excavations to the summer of 1810, maintains that he sold his collection of Argive finds to Henry Gally Knight and John Nicholas Fazakerly for the sum of 500 pounds and that the latter donated a headless female statuette (possibly no. 1818,0509.1) to the British Museum in 1818.

NOTES TO PA G ES 4 2 – 4 5

189

16. Neumeier 2017, 138. 17. Hughes 1830, 222; see Moore, Rowlands, and Karadimas 2014, 85. 18. Sève 1979, 303; 1993, 14. 19. Laurent 1822, 266–67; see Simopoulos 1975b, 476–77; Moore, Rowlands, and Karadimas 2014, 88–89. 20. Sève 1993, 15. For Marcellus, see Augustinos 1994, 231–43. 21. Clarke 1815, 162. See Chlepa 2003, 34. According to Korobokis (2009, 120), the school was originally installed in the monastery of the Concealed Virgin, though ­later transferred to the town below; Varsou-­Kravartogiannou (2009, 47) places it to the west of where the church of St. John the Baptist would be built. Totsikas (2009, 421) notes that an even ­earlier school had been in operation around the ­middle of the eigh­teenth ­century, ­under the direction of Ioannis Zygomalas. 22. Clarke’s account of the school—­and, indeed, of Argos generally—­seems to have been plagiarized by John Adolphus (1821, 516–19) in his account of the visit of Caroline of Brunswick, the wife of the ­f uture King George IV of ­Great Britain. 23. Marcellus 1839, 395–402; see Simopoulos 1975b, 551. 24. Pouqueville 1805, 497; Gell 1817, 167. Clarke (1815, 162), deliberately correcting Gell, puts it at 6,000. Leake (1830, 347) talks about 1200 families, of which between sixty and eighty ­were Turkish and the rest Greek. See Liata 2003, 36–38, who estimates that the population on the eve of the War of In­de­pen­dence was in the region of 10,000. 25. Pouqueville 1805, 496; Gell 1817, 164; Clarke 1815, 162; Hughes 1830, 221. 26. Chandler 1776, 228; Pouqueville 1805, 496; Clarke 1815, 162; Gell 1817, 164; Dodwell 1819, 215; Laurent 1822, 263; Beaujour 1829, 36; Leake 1830, 347; Gordon 1832, 1:424; Marcellus 1839, 394. 27. Laurent 1822, 263. 28. Reynal and Rio 1980a, 43; Zenginis 1996, 304; Kondis 2003a, 136; Liata 2003, 50–51; Xintaropoulos 2006, 14; Kardarakou 2012, 71. 29. Chlepa 2003, 34. 30. Chandler 1776, 228; Clarke 1815, 169; Gell 1817, 166; Dodwell 1819, 215; Hughes 1830, 200. See Chlepa 2003, 34; Kondis 2003b, 137; Philippa-­Touchais 2009. 31. Pouqueville 1805, 496. 32. Chandler 1776, 228; Dodwell 1819, 215. This is prob­ably the khan that stood by the bazaar: Kondis 2003b, 138. 33. Gell 1810, 69; Clarke 1815, 158; Leake 1830, 341, 347; cf. Simopoulos 1975b, 316; Liata 2003, 54; Mandis 2013, 20. 34. Gell 1823, 396. 35. Scrofani 1799, 209. 36. Pouqueville 1805, 497. 37. Laurent 1822, 267. 38. Dodwell 1819, 218; Leake 1830, 395 39. Hughes 1830, 197, 219; cf. Clarke 1815, 167. The inscription (IG 4 614), dated to the second quarter of the sixth ­century BCE, contains a list of nine magistrates: see Vollgraff 1928, 321–23; Jeffery 1990, 168 no. 7; Van Effenterre and Ruzé 1994, 322–23. 40. Scrofani 1799, 216. 41. Gell 1817, 166.

19 0 NOTES

TO PAGES 4 5 –4 8

42. Hughes 1830, 219; Leake 1830, 395–97. Clarke (1815, 165) counted sixty-­four rows. 43. Preliminary results of the first systematic excavations are published in Vollgraff 1958; for a recent study, Aupert and Follain 2015. 44. Dodwell 1819, 217. 45. An error repeated in Murray’s 1840 (94) handbook for travelers. 46. Leake 1830, 398. 47. Hughes 1830, 201. 48. Chateaubriand 1884, 58; Beaujour 1829, 36; Leake 1830, 398–99; Hughes 1830, 201. Leake may, perhaps, be following Clarke (1815, 168–69), who identified the nymphaeum as an oracular shrine of Apollo and the aqueduct as a device to transmit oracular responses to unwitting petitioners. 49. Dodwell 1819, 216; Leake 1830, 398; Hughes 1830, 221. 50. Sève 1993, 48. 51. Sève 1979, 235; 1993, 36. Clarke (1815, 165) also identifies the structure as the Kriterion. 52. Dodwell 1819, 216. 53. Chateaubriand 1884, 58; Hughes 1830, 223; cf. Turner 1820, 285. It is, however, worth pointing out that Aischylos had located Agamemnon’s palace at Argos. 54. Clarke 1815, 165–66; Gell 1817, 166; Leake 1830, 405–6; Hughes 1830, 219. 55. Daux 1968; 1969; Piérart 1998, 338. 56. Dodwell 1819, 217, 220; Clarke 1815, 166; Gell 1817, 167; Scrofani 1799, 218– 19. Haygarth (1814, 248), on the other hand, identifies the cave as the prison of Danae. 57. Scrofani 1799, 211–12. 58. Leake 1830, 401–4. 59. Leake 1830, 397. 60. Ginouvès 1972. Vischer (1857, 321) seems to have been the first to compare the structure to odeia in Athens, Acrae, and Pompeii; see Sève 1979, 122. 61. Cited in Sève 1979, 249–51; 1993, 34–35. 62. Vollgraff 1907, 181–82; Sève 1993, 35. 63. Dodwell 1819, 216. Pourtalès made the same visit in 1817: see Reinach 1896, 117. 64. Ginouvès 1955, 328; Aupert 1973, 498. Sève (1979, 129) suggests that Foucherot, a companion of Louis François Sébastien Fauvel, may already have referred to ­these passages in 1780; see Lowe 1936, 217n1. Piteros (2008) explains how the western part of the northern subterranean passage had been converted into a crypt for the Ottoman tekke with the lowering of the floor and the construction of a wall—­prob­ably the “modern wall” that Dodwell (1819, 216) describes as blocking his pro­gress. 65. Sève 1993, 53, fig. 1. 66. Reported in Sève 1979, 155. 67. Gell 1810, 66; cf. Haygarth 1814, 249. 68. Leake 1830, 399. Clarke (1815, 169) is almost certainly talking about the same passage as Leake, despite the suggestion of Sève (1979, 266–67) that he is describing cisterns within the Larisa ­castle. 69. Leake 1830, 409. In fact, however, the terms applied by Pausanias to the prison of Danae and the trea­suries at Mycenae are not very similar. The “trea­suries” are

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what archaeologists ­today term tholos or “beehive” tombs—­round, subterranean burial chambers, constructed from masonry, roofed with domed vaults, and entered via a long inclining corridor, or dromos. They are largely dated to the Late Helladic or Mycenaean period (ca. 1600–1200 BCE). 70. Sève 1979, 97–98. See Vollgraff 1907, pl. V and Kofiniotis 1892, 47; cf. Curtius 1852, 354; Vischer 1857, 319; Bursian 1869, 50–51; Bachofen 1927, 133. 71. Hughes 1830, 224. 72. Laurent 1822, 265; 73. Clarke 1815, 158–59. 74. Chandler 1776, 228. 75. Sonnini de Manancourt 1801, 405–6; cf. Laurent 1822, 268. 76. Scrofani 1799, 207–8, 210. 77. Pouqueville 1805, 496; Chateaubriand 1884, 58. 78. Athanassopoulos 2002, 279: “the accounts of most visitors prior to the late eigh­teenth ­century contain many textual references, ­because it was only as texts that many of the classical places existed rather than as a­ ctual sites. . . . ​Many places long remained, even for t­hose who had been t­here, more literary constructs than physical real­ity.” 79. Constantine 1984, 149–50; Eisner 1991, 64–66, 72–74, 80; Augustinos 1994, 147–57. 80. Scrofani 1799, 210. 81. Hughes 1830, 219–20; Chateaubriand 1884, 59. 82. Burgess 1835, 127, cited in Greenhalgh 2019, 12; cf. Sutton 2001. 83. Dodwell 1819, 216. 84. Leake 1830, 401–11. 85. Chandler 1776, 227–28. 86. Athanassopoulos 2002, 278. 87. Musti 1982, xi; Habicht 1998, 9. 88. Part of Habicht’s agenda was to defend Pausanias against the attacks on his integrity and reliability made by Ulrich von Wilamowitz-­Moellendorff: see Habicht 1998, 148, 165–75. 89. Habicht 1998, 9. 90. Musti 1982, xii, xix; Habicht 1998, 12–14; Bowie 2001, 23–24. The date of Pausanias’s birth is largely calculated on the basis of his comment (8.9.7) that he had “never seen in the flesh” Hadrian’s lover Antinous, who died in 130. 91. Robert 1909, 26, 61–64; Bearzot 1988. 92. Habicht 1998, 6–7. 93. Musti 1982, xii–­xiv; Habicht 1998, 9–11; Bowie 2001, 21–22. Arafat (1996, 8) suggests that he may have begun the work as early as the 130s. 94. Elsner 1992, 12–13; Habicht 1998, 1–2, 21–22. 95. Wagstaff 2001, 192. 96. Habicht 1998, 5–6. 97. Musti 1982, xxiv; 1996, 10; Arafat 1996, 23–24; Habicht 1998, 97. 98. Musti 1982, xliii; Jones 2001, 34–39. 99. Habicht 1998, 21; Bowie 2001, 25. 100. Habicht 1998, 147.

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101. Elsner 1992, 22–25; Habicht 1998, 151–57; Bowie 2001, 25. 102. Elsner 2001, 6; cf. Habicht 1998, 20, 95. Cohen (2001, 95) suggests that this intermeshing of geo­g raph­i­cal and mythological concerns distinguishes Pausanias’s account from that of Strabo. 103. See Hartog 1988. 104. Elsner 1992, 7. 105. Elsner 1992, 9. Arafat (1996, 10–11) argues against the characterization of Pausanias as a pilgrim though, as Rutherford (2001, 42–43) points out, this critique is determined by a rather modernizing definition of pilgrimage. 106. Elsner 1992, 20. 107. Musti 1982, ix. 108. Arafat 1996, 12–13. 109. Spawforth and Walker 1985, 82; Swain 1996, 75; Romeo 2002. 110. Richter 2011, 135–76. 111. Alcock 1996, 242. 112. Porter 2001, 67. See, however, Arafat (1996, 24–27), who distinguishes Pausanias from other authors of the Second Sophistic in this regard. 113. Habicht 1998, 102; Alcock 1996, 256–58. 114. Elsner 1992, 17–18; Amelung 1996; Bowie 1996, 212–13, 216–17; Habicht 1998, 120–24. For a detailed and less negative study of Pausanias’s attitude to dif­fer­ent Roman emperors, see Arafat 1996, 80–190. 115. Porter 2001, 68. 116. Leontis 1995, 43. 117. Musti and Torelli 1986, xxxi–­xxxii. 118. The fact that Pausanias mentions crossing the Inachos but not the Charadros (the modern Xirias) suggests that the confluence of the two rivers originally lay to the north of its current position: Leake 1830, 394; Piteros 1998, 179–85; Marchetti 2000, 279. 119. Diodoros (7.14) says that the kingship at Argos lasted 549 years but, as Carlier (1984, 386) points out, it is unclear w ­ hether he means 549 years from the return of the Herakleidai or from the reign of Inachos. Forrest (1960, 225–26) dates Meltas’s expulsion to ca. 600 BCE, Kelly (1976, 133) to the second quarter of the sixth c­ entury. 120. Piérart 1998. 121. Piérart 1998, 342–46. Aupert (1985) has speculated that the Asklepieion may be a remodeling of a sanctuary, possibly dedicated to Sarapis, that lies under­neath the large Roman bath building (Baths A), southeast of the theater. 122. Piérart 1998, 347–51. 123. Piérart 1998, 351–52. 124. Habicht 1998, 145–46. 125. Habicht 1998, 23. Occasionally, Pausanias talks about groups of statues without further specification, so a precise total is not pos­si­ble. 126. Croissant 1969; Foley 1988, 141. 127. Vollgraff 1928; Béquinon 1930, 480; Roes 1953; Hägg 1992, 11; Billot 1997– 1998, 23. 128. Vollgraff 1956; Foley 1988, 140. 129. Courbin 1980, 1998; Marchetti 2000, 274–75. 130. Consolaki and Hackens 1980; Marchetti 1994, 136; Piérart 1998, 346.

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131. Vollgraff 1958, though his identification of the nymphaeum as the Kriterion is generally no longer accepted: Marchetti 1993, 215; Piérart 1998, 344–45. However, one or more of the three ­temples of Asklepios that Pausanias rec­ords are likely to be of Roman date, especially if one of ­these is the structure beneath the Roman baths: see Aupert 1985; Marchetti 1993, 219. The Gymnasium of Kylarabis is likely to be of Hellenistic or Roman date. And, if Marchetti (1993) is correct to associate the Delta (Pausanias 2.21.1) with the Delta that is outlined on the Forma Urbis of Rome, then this too is prob­ably Roman. 132. For the date, see Musti and Torelli 1986, 283. 133. Musti and Torelli (1986, 276) suggest that the victory over the Corinthians occurred ca. 459 BCE. 134. The Souda (s.v. “Epimenides”) dates the Cretan seer to around the time of the Kylonian conspiracy of ca. 630 BCE. However, Plato (Laws 1.642d) dates him a ­century ­later. 135. For similar observations about Book 1, see Chamoux 1996, 55–64. 136. Historical memory in non-­or partially literate cultures can vary considerably, but three generations is typical: Vansina 1985, 23–24. For Herodotos, see Finley 1986, 18. 137. See, however, Musti (1996, 14), who describes the Periegesis as an historical reading of the landscape. 138. Bowie 1996, 213–16. The heterochrony is only “apparent” b­ ecause, as Arafat (1996, 66–67) points out, Pausanias’s “sense of prehistory is not one amorphous entity . . . ​but layered and structured, peopled with heroes but, crucially, with several generations of heroes, giving it a relative chronology, however remote and imprecise it may be in absolute terms.” 139. Vollgraff 1919, 263–67. See Habicht 1998, 127; Marchetti 1993, 218. 140. Beard 2001, 227. 141. Herzfeld 1987, 2, 7. 142. Cf. Gallant 2002, 28–29. 143. Dodwell 1819, 216; Chateaubriand 1884, 58; Hughes 1830, 221. 144. Koumadorakis 2007, 587 no. 25; Mandis 2013, 21–22; Petrakos 2015, 1:11–14, 18, 2:10–23 no. 6, 2:27 no. 7. For the date of Pyrrhos’s chapter on the Argolid, see Sève 1979, 328. 145. Sève 1993, 33–35; Chandler 1776, 227. 146. Neumeier (2017, 152–53) makes a persuasive case against the charge that Veli Pasha “was pursuing antiquities purely as a monetary venture,” though her admission (144) that the governor himself claimed that he collected sculpture “for his En­glish friends” does suggest that he regarded his finds as symbolic capital. 147. Hughes 1830, 229. 148. Hall 2014. 149. Grote 1859, vii–­viii. 150. Myres 1930, 323. 151. Cited in Fappas 2015, 68. 152. Chandler 1776, 227; Scrofani 1799, 210. 153. Hughes 1830, 229. 154. Pouqueville 1805, 495.

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1. Gordon 1832, 1:75–134; Finlay 1861, 1:134–70. For general overviews of the Revolutionary War in En­glish, see Dakin 1973; Brewer 2001. 2. The designation of March 25 as the date of a national holiday commemorating the outbreak of the revolution was formalized in March 1838: see Dimakopoulos 1973. 3. Spiliadis 1851, 1:59; Finlay 1861, 1:180–81. 4. Blaquiere 1824, 104; Gordon 1832, 1:146–48; Spiliadis 1851, 1:59–63; Finlay 1861, 1:181–87; Kolokotronis 1969, 129–31. 5. The information is based on an undated and unsigned document in the possession of the Argive Danaos Society: AIA, no. 559; cf. Vardouniotis 1910a; Zenginis 1996, 235. 6. Fotakos 1899, 1:71–73, 449. 7. Blaquiere 1824, 105; Fotakos 1899, 1:129–30; Kolokotronis 1969, 148. The Kihaya is named Ahmed by Gordon but Mustafa by Trikoupis. 8. Kofiniotis 1892, 26, though he erroneously assigns the event to early 1824. 9. Gordon 1832, 1:158–59; Trikoupis 1959, 1:230–31; cf. Blaquiere 1824, 105; Trant 1830, 128–33; Spiliadis 1851, 1:125–27; Fotakos 1899, 1:131–33; Kofiniotis 1892, 25–26. 10. Blaquiere 1824, 115–16; Gordon 1832, 1:219–20; Fotakos 1899, 1:189–91. 11. For Ikonomos, see Gordon 1832, 1:166–67, 169–70. 12. Blaquiere 1824, 167–68, 175–80; Leake 1826, 67; Howe 1828, 73–74; Gordon 1832, 1:291–92, 299–301, 323–7; Buchon 1843, 155; Spiliadis 1851, 1:268–78; Finlay 1861, 1:293–99; Fotakos 1899, 1:270–79; Trikoupis 1959, 2:88–98. 13. Blaquiere 1824, 211–12; Gordon 1832, 1:418–22; Finlay 1861, 1:351–55; Fotakos 1899, 1:320–34; Trikoupis 1959, 2:177–79. 14. Leake 1826, 91. 15. Gordon 1932, 1:422; Spiliadis 1851, 1:393–98; Finlay 1861, 1:355–57. 16. Blaquiere 1824, 214–17; Leake 1826, 90–91; Howe 1828, 119–23; Gordon 1832, 1:423–33; Spiliadis 1851, 1:402–19; Finlay 1861, 1:357–60; Trikoupis 1959, 2:179–85; Kolokotronis 1969, 176–83. 17. Leake 1826, 92. 18. Blaquiere 1824, 218–19; Gordon 1832, 1:433–36; Spiliadis 1851, 1:419–23; Finlay 1861, 1:360–63; Fotakos 1899, 1:351–89; Trikoupis 1959, 2:185–89; Kolokotronis 1969, 184–89. 19. Blaquiere 1824, 224–25; Leake 1826, 93; Gordon 1832, 1:477–79; Spiliadis 1851, 1:474–78, 499–500, 502; Finlay 1861, 1:367–69; Kolokotronis 1969, 190–98. 20. Blaquiere 1824, 255–63; Leake 1826, 96–100; Gordon 1832, 1:481–82, 2:4–7; Spiliades 1851, 1:498–510; Kolokotronis 1969, 198–201. 21. Gordon 1832, 2:7–11; Spiliadis 1851, 1:534–40, 546; Fotakos 1899, 1:497–98. 22. See Soïlendakis 2009, 346. 23. Stanhope 1824, 31–32; Gordon 1832, 2:73; Spiliadis 1851, 1:547–49; Trikoupis 1959, 3:36–37, 48–49. 24. AEP 2, 653–55 nos. 505–6; see Spentzas 2009. Charalambos Perroukas was the son of Nikolaos, the former primate of Argos. 25. AEP 2, 660 no. 519, 662–63 no. 523; AIA, no. 539; Stanhope 1824, 52–53, 68–71; Leake 1826, 100; Gordon 1832, 2:73–74; Spiliadis 1851, 1:569–76; Fotakos 1899,

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1:500–504; Makriyiannis 1947, 1:198–99; Trikoupis 1959, 3:49–51. ­Needless to say, ­these events are glossed over in the memoirs of Kolokotronis. 26. Stanhope 1824, 81–82, 107–8, 135–36, 147–48, 164–65, 170–72, 186–87; Gordon 1832, 2:94–101; Spiliadis 1851, 2:14–16, 63–64, 76; Makriyiannis 1947, 1:203–6; Trikoupis 1959, 3:75–76. 27. Howe 1828, 206–11, 231–46; Gordon 1832, 2:193–207, 213–17; Finlay 1861, 2:28–29, 53–76; Kolokotronis 1969, 206–10. 28. Howe 1828, 246–49; Gordon 1832, 2:217–20; Spiliadis 1851, 2:330–32; Finlay 1861, 2:77–79; Fotakos 1899, 2:114–30; Makriyiannis 1947, 1:252–64; Trikoupis 1959, 3:146–48. 29. AIA, no. 406. 30. AIA, no. 407. 31. AIA, no. 410 (September 24 / October 6, 1827). 32. Howe 1828, 432–35, 438–39; Gordon 1832, 2:404–11; Fotakos 1899, 2:405–9; Trikoupis 1959, 4:106–11. On account of the unrest, Kapodistrias de­cided to relocate to Egina on January 24, returning to Nafplio only in October. 33. Gordon 1832, 2:363–65. The Third National Assembly of Damala was itself the continuation of an assembly that had originally convened near Epidauros in April 1826 and then, during October, split into rival assemblies—­one on Egina, the other at Ermioni. The choice of Damala for an assembly of reconciliation was proposed by Lord Thomas Cochrane and Sir Richard Church, recently elected admiral and archistratigos respectively of the Greek army. See Kolokotronis 1969, 229–31, 242–47. 34. Howe 1828, 445–51; Gordon 1832, 2:363–66, 430–32; Finlay 1861, 2:178–83. 35. Pellion 1855, 85–95; Finlay 1861, 2:192–93; Kolokotronis 1969, 276–81. 36. Sève 1993, 16; Grange 2000; Petrakos 2015, 1:98–117; Greenhalgh 2019, 479–81. 37. Trant 1830, 55–62; Blouet et  al. 1833, 90; Pellion 1855, 132–43; Finlay 1861, 2:220–21; Makriyiannis 1947, 2:14–18; Trikoupis 1959, 4:227–31; Kolokotronis 1969, 284–85. 38. Pellion 1855, 112–13, 236–50; Finlay 1861, 2:242–47; Makriyiannis 1947, 2:33; Kolokotronis 1969, 292–96. 39. AEP 24, 110–14 no. 69; Pellion 1855, 270–83; Finlay 1861, 2:248–56; Makriyiannis 1947, 2:34–39; Kolokotronis 1969, 296–97. 40. AIA, no. 412. 41. AIA, no. 413. 42. AIA, no. 414. 43. AIA, no. 514. 44. Pellion 1855, 285–306, 327–30; Finlay 1861, 2:257–78; Makriyiannis 1947, 2:39– 55; Kolokotronis 1969, 298–99. In a letter to Dimitrios Tsokris, dated October 29 / ​ November 10 1832, Bishop Anthimos of Ilioupolis refers to the “inconsolable misfortunes” that the residents of Argos have suffered: AIA, no. 235. 45. AIA, no. 557. From another letter, dated the following day, and possibly from Dimitrios Kallergis (although the name of the signatory is partially illegible), we learn that Tsokris had encouraged the citizens to write to the representatives of the ­Great Powers: AIA, no. 265.

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46. Lacour 1834, 247–50; cf. Pellion 1855, 355–59; Finlay 1861, 2:285–86. Labrynidis (1910, 34) recounts that Sofia Kallergis fled the ­house and sought refuge with Dimitrios Tsokris. 47. Lacour 1834, 251–54. 48. Pellion 1855, 359–64; cf. Giraudeau de Saint-­Gervais 1835, 237–39; Finlay 1861, 2:286–87. 49. Vardouniotis 1891; cf. Kofiniotis 1892, 27–29; AIA, no. 558. 50. Makriyiannis 1947, 2:49–50. See Giannakopoulos 2009, 61. 51. Kolokotronis 1969, 302, 305; cf. Labrynidis 1910, 36–37. 52. That tensions w ­ ere still r­ unning high more than twenty years ­later is suggested by the account of William George Clark (1858, 90–91), who complains that his Greek guide told him some “cock-­and-­bull story” about the French massacre of Argive residents. 53. Jourdain 1828, 17. 54. See Sève 1993, 15. 55. Stanhope 1824, 179; cf. Swan 1826, 7. 56. AEP 8, 131 no. 382. 57. Pellion 1855, 301. 58. Michaud and Poujoulat 1835, 90; Cochrane 1837, 306; Pellion 1855, 301. 59. Trant 1830, 62–63; cf. Stephens 1840, 110; Murray 1840, 94; Davesiès de Pontès 1864, 65. For Trant, see Moore, Rowlands, and Karadimas 2014, 96 (where Trant’s regiment is wrongly named as the 38th). 60. Quinet 1830, 232, 234; Blouet et al. 1833, 91; Buchon 1843, 384; Davesiès de Pontès 1864, 66. 61. Giraudeau de Saint-­Gervais 1835, 237; ­Temple 1836, 42; Davesiès de Pontès 1864, 66; Black 1900, 133. 62. Michaud and Poujoulat 1835, 91; Laurent 1822, 263. 63. Giraudeau de Saint-­Gervais 1835, 237. 64. Quinet 1830, 233; Trant 1830, 63; Blouet et  al. 1833, 91; Giraudeau de Saint-­ Gervais 1835, 237; Michaud and Poujoulat 1835, 98; ­Temple 1836, 42; Buchon 1843, 384. 65. Blouet et al. 1833, 90–91. 66. Dorovinis 1980, 505. See the letter, dated 13/25 June, 1828, from Nikolaos Kallergis, the extraordinary commissioner for the Argolid, to Dimitrios Tsokris, reprimanding him for having contravened quarantine regulations: AIA, no. 159. 67. Michaud and Poujoulat 1835, 91–92. 68. Giraudeau de Saint-­Gervais 1835, 237; cf. Black 1900, 133; Michaud and Poujoulat 1935, 98. 69. AEP 4, 482; Dorovinis 1979b, 36–38; Koumadorakis 2007, 547–50; Totsikas 2009, 423; cf. Alcock 1831, 182; Giraudeau de Saint-­Gervais 1835, 237; T ­ emple 1836, 42; Vardouniotis 1910b, 71–72. 70. Dorovinis 1980, 512; 1989a, 60–62; Reynal and Rio 1980b, 82; Koumadorakis 2007, 538–39. 71. Dorovinis 1989b, 80–82; Koumadorakis 2007, 542–44. A Central Mutual School (i.e., where older pupils serve as teaching assistants) had been established at Argos already in early 1824 (see AEP 8, 59 no. 170), though it was destroyed the following year during Ibrahim Pasha’s sack of the town: see Vardouniotis 1910b; Varsou-­

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Kravartogiannou 2009, 48–50; Totsikas 2009, 422–23. The Kapodistrian School replaced an ­earlier Mutual School (for boys and girls), which already existed in premises owned by the monastery of the Concealed Virgin by April 1829: see GGE 27 (6.4.1829), 103, cited in Dorovinis 1980, 505. ­There ­were also numerous private schools throughout the town—­although the quality of instruction often left something to be desired—as well as a Hellenic (­Middle) school with fifty-­five students: Totsikas 2009, 424–27. 72. Argos (I) 20, October 13, 1844, 2. See Dorovinis 1989b, 82–84. Major restoration work took place on the school­house in the 1890s, 1930s, and 1980s—­the last despite numerous calls for its de­mo­li­tion. Since 1985, the building has h ­ oused the First Public School of Argos. 73. Michaud and Poujoulat 1835, 98; Darlakos 1910; Koumadorakis 2007, 552–53. 74. Zenginis 1996, 333. 75. Dorovinis 1989b, 85–88; Philippa-­Touchais 2009. For Pyrrhos, see Sève 1979, 332. 76. Lacour 1834, 246; cf. Davesiès de Pontès (1864, 66), who was entertained ­there by Kallergis. 77. AEP 21, 87–8 no. 100; Vardouniotis 1891; Dorovinis 1990b; 2000; Koumadorakis 2007, 541–42. 78. Trant 1830, 63. According to Dorovinis (1980, 512), the h ­ ouse of the governor is more likely to have been that of Tsokris (see below) rather than Kallergis, since the latter was prob­ably not built u ­ ntil the year a­ fter Trant’s visit. No trace remains of the Dawkins ­ house but Gordon’s ­ house has been restored by the École Française d’Athènes, which bought it in 1987; cf. Xintaropoulos 2006, 48–51; Koumadorakis 2007, 535–36. Dorovinis (1979a, 184) dates it to 1829, though Piteros (2012, 93) believes that it must postdate March 1831. 79. ­Temple 1836, 42. 80. Dorovinis 1979a, 181–91; Xintaropoulos 2006, 52–55. The ­house of Dimitrios Tsokris was bought in 2013 by the municipality of Argos and Mykines, with the intention of restoring it and converting it into a museum. The ­house of Georgios Tsokris was scandalously demolished by its owner in 1980: Reynal and Rio 1980b, 135; EFA ARGOS 3-­A-1f. The ­house that is believed to be that of Spyridon Trikoupis currently lies derelict, ­after being bought by the Agricultural Bank in 1992 but subsequently ransacked by looters: Koumadorakis 2007, 550–51. Following the death of Charilaos Trikoupis, Dimitrios Vardouniotis, writing in the Argive newspaper Danaos (II) 16 (April 7, 1896), 1, goes to some length to argue that Trikoupis had been born in the Argive h ­ ouse and not at Nafplio, as was commonly believed. 81. Danousis 2005, 82–83, 86–87. Dorovinis (1979a, 186–88) has identified the ­house as a property on Gounari Street, opposite the church of St. John the Baptist. Listed as a preservation site in 1982 by the Ministry for the Environment, Planning, and Public Works (but not by the Ministry of Culture), it has fallen into an irreversible state of repair while its owner has been engaged in a l­egal dispute concerning its correct identification; see Koumadorakis 2007, 567–68. For doubts on the identification, see Piteros 2012. 82. See Petrochilos 1966, 577. 83. Davesiès de Pontès 1864, 66: “Déjà des constructions régulières s’agglomèrent au centre du village [Argos], et la cité nouvelle, favorisée par sa réputation, semble destinée à plus de développement que la capitale actuelle de la Grèce, resserrée dans

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les limites de son étroite presqu’île.” For the choice of Athens as the new capital, see Bastéa 2000, 6–14. For Argive pretensions, see Zenginis 1996, 359–60. 84. Jourdain 1828, 12–13, 19–20. ­These include IG 4 621 and 630a and b: Sève 1979, 304. 85. Davesiès de Pontès 1865, 65. 86. Michaud and Poujoulat 1835, 92. 87. Mure 1842, 183; Murray 1840, 94. 88. Sève 1993, 48. 89. Blouet et al. 1833, 91. The identification seems to have already been known to Haygarth 1814, 249. Pyrrhos, on the other hand, argues that the mosque was originally the ­temple of Dionysos: see Sève 1979, 332. For the mosque, see Philippa-­ Touchais 2009. 90. One exception is the phantomatic sanctuary of Apollo Lykeios, which Scrofani (1799, 211–12) and Leake (1830, 401–4) had located in the north of the town, but whose remains Pyrrhos claimed to identify on the road to Mount Lykone, west of Argos: see Sève 1979, 324–25. 91. Black 1900, 135. 92. Michaud and Poujoulat 1835, 97. By contrast, Swan (1826, 11) was told that the structure was a t­ emple of Apollo. 93. Murray 1840, 95. Cf. Clarke 1815, 165; Gell 1817, 166; Pyrrhos (in Sève 1979, 330); Leake 1830, 405–6; and Hughes 1830, 219. Poujoulat (in Michaud and Poujoulat 1835, 97) is more circumspect. 94. Jourdain 1828, 17–18; Blouet et al. 1833, 91; Dodwell 1819, 217, 220. 95. Michaud and Poujoulat 1835, 92–93; Clarke 1815, 166; Gell 1817, 167. Trant (1830, 121) is doubtful, since he was unable to find “a single stone that appeared to have pertained to an ancient edifice.” 96. Jourdain 1828, 18; T ­ emple 1836, 45; Murray 1840, 94; cf. Clarke 1815, 168–69; Leake 1830, 398–99. Trant (1830, 119–20) correctly identifies the passage as an aqueduct. Pyrrhos, on the other hand, suggests that the nymphaeum was an oracular shrine of Asklepios: see Sève 1979, 140, 330. 97. Jourdain 1828, 17–18. Pyrrhos (in Sève 1979, 321) also notes that the cave served as a shelter for sheep and goats but notes the presence of wall paintings within. 98. Leake 1830, 409; Dodwell 1819, 216. 99. Jourdain 1828, 18–19; Pyrrhos (text in Sève 1979, 329); Trant 1830, 118; Wines 1833, 261; Giraudeau de Saint-­Gervais 1835, 237; T ­ emple 1836, 43; Friedrichstahl 1838, 79. 100. Blouet et  al. 1833, 91; cf. Pouillon Boblaye 1836, 44. For this reason, Blouet thought that the Hadrianic nymphaeum may have been associated with the legend of Danae. For the graffiti, see Aupert 1973, 498, and especially Piteros 2008. Among the names are: “ΝΙΚΟΛΑΟΣ ΘΑΛΑΣΣΙΝΟΣ, 1833, Οκτωβρίου 18,” “R. CALDER, USA, 1831,” and perhaps part of the name of the French traveler Théodose du Moncel, who visited Argos in 1845. See Sève 1979, 70. 101. Piteros 2008; cf. Sève 1979, 130. 102. Giraudeau de Saint-­Gervais 1835, 237; cf. Michaud and Poujoulat 1835, 96. 103. Blouet et al. 1833, 90 and pl. 58. 104. Kolokotronis 1969, 284.

NOTES TO PA G ES 8 4 – 9 0

199

105. Kolokotronis 1846, 231 (cited in Petrakos 2015, 2:244 no. 193). 106. The task of renovating the theater was entrusted to Theodoros Vallianos, a Greek of Kephalonian origins who had served in the Rus­sian Corps of Engineers: Dorovinis 1990a. 107. Herzfeld 1991, 205. 108. Gourgouris 1996, 147. Gourgouris goes on to cite Skopetea’s claim (1988, 197) that “from the point of view of the State, the ancient monuments w ­ ere the only ready-­made national symbols it could use.” 109. Trant 1830, 122. 110. Kosiba 2017, 98. Cf. Neumeier 2017, 138: “non-­elite interpretations of ancient ruins ­were embedded in the routines of daily life, and often took on a mystical or superstitious nature.” 111. Makriyiannis 1947, 2:63. See Mandis 2013, 23; Petrakos 2015, 1:320, 3:134–35 no. 611. 112. Morris 1994a, 22–23; 2000, 47–48; Hamilakis 2007, 74–78; Plantzos 2014, 162–64. 113. Davesiès de Pontès 1864, 67–68. By contrast, John Cam Hob­house, a friend of Byron, expressed shock at how few con­temporary Greeks knew of “ancestors” such as Leonidas: Hob­house 1813, 588 (cited in Jusdanis 2001, 116). 114. Anderson 2015, 452. 115. Trant 1830, 124. 116. Calotychos 2003, 52. 117. AIA, 5–40; Koumadorakis 2007, 451–53. 118. Dorovinis 1979a, 182; Xintaropoulos 2006, 44. 119. ­Temple 1836, 46; Milchhöfer 1879, 157 no. 4. 120. Blouet et al. 1833, 107. See, however, Friedrichsthal (1838, 77), who does not associate the relief with Telesilla and dates it to the “corrupt taste of a l­ater period.” 121. Totsikas 1994, 41–48; Sauzeau 1999, 152–53. 122. Totsikas 1994, 42. 123. Piérart 2003, 281. For the so-­called servile interregnum, see Willetts 1959; Forrest 1960; Lotze 1959; Tomlinson 1972, 97–99; Moggi 1974, 1263; Van Compernolle 1975, 360–61; Piérart 2004b, 177–78; Bourke 2011; Bershadsky 2013, 316–24; Hall 2021. 124. Graf 1984; Vidal-­Naquet 1986, 205–23. 125. Jacoby 1955, 46; Stadter 1965, 48; Piérart 2003, 281, 290–95. 126. The legend must predate the Hellenistic historian Sokrates of Argos, whom Plutarch cites for the expulsion of Demaratos, as well as the casting of a bronze statue of the poetess by Nikeratos of Athens—­thought to be active in the second half of the third ­century: see Tatian, Contra Graecos 33; Kiechle 1960, 181; Franchi 2012, 210. Jacoby (1955, 45) thought that the tradition was known to Aristotle, while Breglia (2005) attributes it to Ephoros. 127. Blouet et al. 1833, 108, though the team was well aware that “a justly famous [but anonymous] archaeologist” believed the relief to be a funerary stele. 128. Brandis 1842, 188; Rangavis 1853, 240. 129. Buchon 1843, 384; Bertrand 1858, 291; Paganelis 1891, 319–20. 130. Milchhöfer 1879, 157. 131. Isambert 1881, 268; cf. Sève 1993, 21; Mandis 2013, 27–28.

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132. Kofiniotis 1892, 113; 1910, 284, 286; cf. Le Camus 1896, 80. 133. Scrofani 1799, 215–16. 134. Hughes 1830, 220. 135. AIA, no. 305. 136. Kofiniotis 1892, xxiv–­xxv. 137. Trikoupis 1959, 1:230. 138. Kofiniotis 1892, xxxi. 139. Moriatis 1877, 364. 140. I am grateful to Nikolas Dimakis for discussion of the relief and to him and Anna Banaka for making available to me a photo­g raph of the piece. I have also profited from discussion with Andrew Stewart concerning the date of the relief. 141. For this suggestion, I am grateful to the audience that attended an early pre­ sen­ta­tion of this material during a conference held at Trinity College, Hartford, Connecticut, in October 2016. 142. Hastaoglou-­Martinidis 1995, 99–100. 143. Biris and Kardamitsi-­Adami 2004, 58, 105; Koumaridis 2006, 216. 144. CJC 2, 43–44; Dorovinis 1980, 504; Kardarakou 2012, 80. 145. Dorovinis 1980, 505–8. One of the letters was addressed to Carl Wilhelm von Heideck, the commander of the army, and the other to the commissioner for Argos. 146. Hastaoglou-­Martinidis 1995, 108. 147. Petrochilos 1966, 577–78; Dorovinis 1980, 508. 148. Dorovinis 1980, 506–7n21. 149. GGE files 249 and 253B. 150. GGE files 258B, 260, and 264; AEP 21, 96–97 (no. 111). See Dorovinis 1980, 506–11. 151. Dorovinis 1980, 513–15, 520–22 (GGE files 281 A and B; 293); Chlepa 2003, 36. 152. Images of the copies are published in Dorovinis 1980, 522–23 figs. 1–4 (online at https://­www​.­persee​.­fr​/­doc​/­bch​_­0304​-­2456​_­1980​_­sup​_­6​_­1​_­5176​?­q​=­Dorovinis). 153. Dorovinis 1980, 517, 520; Reynal and Rio 1980b, 82; Chlepa 2003, 36. 154. Kardarakou 2012, 78, 83–84. 155. Xintaropoulos 2006, 19. 156. Petrakos (2015, vol. 1), relying heavi­ly on a lengthy apology of Kapodistrias that Nikolaos Pagalakis wrote to Koraïs (Petrakos 2015, 3:235–54 no.  674). Koraïs, born in Smyrna in 1748, moved to Paris in 1788, where he edited and published Greek texts of ancient authors. Widely credited (along with Rigas Velestinlis) as one of the intellectual architects of the in­de­pen­dence movement, he never returned to Greece following its liberation. 157. Laios 1969, 205–10 (translated in Clogg 1976, 82–84). See Athanassopoulos 2002, 296–97. 158. Petrakos 2013, 1:25, 2:117–18; 2015, 1:70–71, 2:120–22 no. 86. For the orphanage, see Biris and Kardamitsi-­Adami 2004, 58–62. 159. CJC 4, 178. 160. Petrakos 2015, 1:129–30. For Moustoxydis’s c­ areer, see Petrakos 2013, 2:10–11. 161. Voudouri 2008, 125–26; Petrakos 2013, 2:119; 2015, 1:329–30, 2:404–9 nos. 356–57.

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201

162. Reproduced in Petrakos 2015, 3:148–51 no. 627. 163. CJC 4, 419–20; cf. Petrakos 2015, 3:126–28 nos. 602–4. See Tolias 2008, 55. 164. Voudouri 2008, 126; 2017, 77–78; Loukaki 2008, 153. 165. CJC 3, 358–59. 166. For the wine dispute: AEP 21, 47 no. 1728, 62 no. 2051, 69 no. 2286, 149a; 22, 11 no. 436; 23, 15 no. 36. 167. Petrakos 2013, 1:53–54; 2015, 1:201, 2:429–30 no. 374. This may have been the first coin hoard to be found in liberated Greece. 168. Petrakos 2013, 1:54; 2015, 2:436 no. 382. 169. Petrakos 2015, 3:192–223 nos. 658–62. 170. Kolokotsas 1998, 440; Kardarakou 2012, 84. 171. Cited in Bastéa 2009, 32; cf. Koumaridis 2006, 218–19. Interestingly, an Argive senator, Dimitrios Perroukas, had suggested in October 1830 that the government should send a topographer to Athens to trace the plan of the ancient city so that new ­houses should not be constructed above antiquities: Petrakos 2015, 1:221, 2:475–77 no. 423. 4. Safeguarding Heritage

1. Mayer 1838, 64; Zenginis 1996, 359–60; Droulia 2013. 2. Von Klenze 1838, 528; Goudas 1930; Dorovinis 1990b, 56; Koumadorakis 2007, 221–22. 3. Ross 1851, 231. For the barracks: Giraudeau de Saint-­Gervais 1835, 237; Mayer 1838, 64. For Ross’s ­career, see Petrakos 2013, 2:13–14. 4. E.g., Knight 1839, 24; Von Ow 1954, 206. 5. Makriyiannis 1947, 2:132. 6. Bastéa 2000, 18–20; Clogg 2013, 50–51; Gallant 2015, 110–16, 132–33. 7. Makriyiannis 1947, 2:67–68; cf. Danousis 2005, 86. 8. Finlay 1861, 2:372–77; Clogg 2013, 51; Gallant 2015, 132–36. 9. Moore, Rowlands, and Karadimas 2014, 91. 10. Mayer 1838, 64. 11. Burgess 1835, 201–2; Mayer 1838, 64; Cochrane 1837, 95; Von Ow 1954, 206. 12. Mure 1842, 162; Herbert 1868, 72. See Moore, Rowlands, and Karadimas 2014, 108. 13. De Vere 1850, 297. 14. AIA, nos. 273, 283, 294, 299, 302, 306, and 310. 15. Bastéa 2000, 6–9. 16. Breton 1868, 349. 17. Constantine 1984, 1–2; Eisner 1991, 75–78. 18. Sève 1979; Eisner 1991, 128. 19. Grosvenor 1842; Boissier 1848. See Moore, Rowlands, and Karadimas 2014, 116. 20. Burgess 1835, 201–2. 21. Hervé 1837, 234; cf. Von Klenze 1838, 521–22; Olin 1854, 138. For Hervé, see Moore, Rowlands, and Karadimas 2014, 104–6. 22. Herbert 1868, 74. 23. Barrington 1850, 154; Taylor 1876, 162. For Taylor, see Moore, Rowlands, and Karadimas 2014, 146.

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24. Cochrane 1837, 144, 306. He adds (331–32) that opium was beginning to be cultivated near Tiryns. Buchon (1843, 384) describes the tobacco as of a superior quality recognized throughout Greece. 25. Rangavis 1853, 239, 243. About a de­cade ­earlier, Aldenhoven (1841, 375) and Cusani (1846, 191) had estimated the population at around 8,000. 26. Clark 1858, 90; see Moore, Rowlands, and Karadimas 2014, 120. 27. Linton 1856, 56. For Linton, see Moore, Rowlands, and Karadimas 2014, 117–18. 28. ­Temple 1836, 42; Knight 1839, 25; Brandis 1842, 183; Cusani 1846, 191; Boissier 1848, 138; Barrington 1850, 154; Hettner 1853, 217; Olin 1854, 138; Chase 1863, 34. 29. Olin 1854, 139. 30. Aldenhoven 1841, 375; Buchon 1843, 384; Linton 1856, 56; Boissier 1848, 138; Rangavis 1853, 240; Chase 1863, 34. 31. De Vere 1850, 298. 32. Hervé 1837, 234; Mayer 1838, 65; Rangavis 1853, 239. 33. Cusani 1846, 190–91. 34. Mure 1842, 161–62; Olin 1854, 137. 35. Yemeniz 1854, 158; cf. Schaub 1859, 44. 36. Boissier 1848, 139. 37. Clogg 2013, 51–55; cf. Gallant 2015, 137–43; Beaton 2019, 134–36. 38. Avgi 999 (February 22, 1862); see Koumadorakis 2007, 588 no. 26. 39. Tsilimingras 2013, 137–41. 40. Zenginis 1996, 399–403; Malesis 2013, 61; Tsilimingras 2013, 137–41. 41. Bastéa 2000, 23; Gallant 2015, 142–43, 145–47. 42. Schaub 1865, 221. 43. Gotsis 2013, 75, 82; cf. Reynal and Rio 1980a, 49; Dorovinis 1979a, 173–74n8; Kondis 2003a, 134. Schliemann (1869, 103) estimated the population at 8,000, Isambert (1881, 268) at 4,000–5,000, and Petit (1879, 18) and Koryllos (1890, 115) at 10,000. 44. Chlepa 2003, 38; Kardarakou 2012, 81. 45. Freeman 1893, 106–7; cf. Kondis 2009b, 62. 46. D’Istria 1863, 55; cf. Koryllos 1890, 115. 47. Howe 1868, 186. 48. Howe 1868, 191–92; cf. Eisner 1991, 171–72. An article in Argos (II) 20 (April 26, 1886), 3, comments on the visit of Dr. Edward Engel from Berlin and expresses the hope that other Germans and Eu­ro­pe­ans w ­ ill visit the town more often and not listen to friends who criticize Greece for its brigandage. 49. Argolis ( July 11, 1868); see Koumadorakis 2007, 588 no. 27. 50. Jerningham 1873, 67. 51. Dorovinis 1979a, 169–70, 195–201; Chlepa 2003, 39; Xintaropoulos 2006, 64– 67; Koumadorakis 2007, 565, 570–71. 52. Hettner 1853, 217; D’Istria 1863, 54; Chase 1863, 34; Schliemann 1869, 103; Isambert 1881, 268; Belle 1881, 287–88; Le Camus 1896, 79. See Xintaropoulos 2006, 28–33. 53. New York Times 8175 (November 25, 1877), 4. 54. Macmillan 1878, 566. For the effect the trip had on Wilde’s Hellenism, see Ross 2009. 55. Bovet 1897, 87. 56. Erasinos 3 (May 17, 1885), 3.

NOTES TO PA G ES 1 1 0 – 1 1 4

203

57. Mahaffy 1876, 264; see Moore, Rowlands, and Karadimas 2014, 123–24. 58. Jerningham 1873, 65. Howe (1868, 188) describes the local wine as “­bitter, sour, and insipid.” 59. Schliemann 1869, 103–5. 60. Schaub 1865, 221; Petit 1879, 18; Kondis 2009b, 71–72. Koumadorakis (2007, 546; cf. Dorovinis 1979a, 201) suggests tentatively that the Saganas ­hotel was not built ­until around 1902, though its renovation is already announced in Danaos (II) 71 (September 23, 1898), 4, where it is described as “old.” 61. Danaos (II) 17 (May 14, 1896); Dorovinis 1979a, 203; Kondis 2009b, 71. 62. Kondis 2009b, 75–77. 63. Dorovinis 1979a, 200–201; Kondis 2003a, 149; 2009b, 70, 77. 64. E.g., Argolis 142 (October  23, 1871); Agamemnon 43 (February  10, 1891); see Kondis 2009b, 80–81. 65. Freeman 1893, 107. The construction of St. Peter’s necessitated the de­mo­li­ tion of an ­earlier chapel on the spot, which had been dedicated to St. Nicholas and had been the private place of worship for the Perroukas f­ amily. Remains that might be ­those of the ­earlier chapel ­were discovered in 2016 during renovation work of St.  Peter’s Square. See http://­ikivotos​.­g r​/­post​/­1608​/­sto​-­fws​-­leipsana​-­byzantinoy​ -­naoy. 66. Korobokis 2009, 134. 67. Chlepa 2003, 38–39; Koumadorakis 2007, 546. 68. Argos (II) 19 (March 30, 1886), 1–3. 69. Seymour 1888, 53. 70. Dorovinis 1979a, 193–94; Chlepa 2003, 38–39; Biris and Kardamitsi-­Adami 2004, 122; Xintaropoulos 2006, 23–25; Koumadorakis 2007, 539. 71. Taylor 1876, 161. He goes on to note that the only architectural splendors left in Greece are to be found at Athens, Sounion, Aigina, and Phigaleia (the t­emple of Apollo at Bassai). 72. Jerningham 1873, 64. 73. Howe 1868, 189. 74. Baths A as a ­temple: ­Temple 1836, 43; Schliemann 1869, 104–5. Basilica: Burgess 1835, 203; Bertrand 1858, 289–90; Bursian 1872, 52–53. Odeion: Schaub 1865, 222. Baths: Chenavard, Rey, and Dalgabio 1849, 37; Vischer 1857, 321; Freeman 1893, 118. 75. Subterranean passages: T ­ emple 1836, 43; Rangavis 1853, 241–42. According to Vollgraff (1907, 181–82), they w ­ ere no longer vis­i­ble by the first de­cade of the twentieth ­century. T ­ emple of Aphrodite: Curtius 1852, 358; Murray 1840, 95; Bursian 1872, 52. 76. Ross 1863, 209; cf. Murray 1840, 94–95; Rangavis 1853, 242. The hydraulic function is also recognized by Burgess (1835, 204), Aldenhoven (1841, 377) and Bursian (1872, 51). 77. Curtius 1952, 357; Murray 1840, 94; Grosvenor 1842, 183; Chase 1863, 34. 78. Burgess 1835, 203; Von Klenze 1838, 528; Murray 1840, 95; Brandis 1842, 187; Linton 1856, 56; Chase 1863, 34; Curtius 1852, 362. For the monastery on the site of the ­temple of Hera Akraia: Aldenhoven 1841, 377; Rangavis 1853, 240; Yemeniz 1954, 164; Schaub 1865, 221. 79. Le Camus 1896, 82. 80. Aldenhoven 1841, 377; Bursian 1872, 51.

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81. Gymnasium of Kylarabis: Curtius 1852, 359. Aldenhoven (1841, 377) and Yemeniz (1954, 154) reprised the ­earlier view that this was the location of the phantomatic sanctuary of Aphrodite Nikephoros. For the mosque, see Philippa-­Touchais 2009. Apollo Lykeios: Le Camus 1896, 79; cf. Kofiniotis 1892, 81. 82. ­Temple 1836, 45; cf. Sève 1979, 162. 83. Curtius 1852, 354; Vischer 1857, 321; Bertrand 1858, 290; Milchhöfer 1879, 156; Sandys 1887, 51. 84. Knight 1839, 26. 85. Conze and Michaëlis 1861, 15. 86. Le Bruyn 1725, 474–77; Sève 1979, 133, 229–31; 1993, 10, 28. Cf. Dodwell 1819, 217; Blouet et al. 1833, 91; Milchhöfer 1879, 157 nos. 2–3. 87. Milchhöfer 1879, 157; cf. Vollgraff 1958, 530–34. 88. E.g., Rangavis 1853, 240; Ross 1863, 210. 89. ­Temple 1836, 43–44; Milchhöfer 1879, 158 no. 6. 90. Buchon 1843, 384. 91. Bursian 1855, 57–58; see Mandis 2013, 26. 92. Bertrand 1858, 291. 93. Conze and Michaëlis 1861, 16–17; Kofiniotis 1892, 116 nos. 16–19. 94. Hervé 1837, 235. According to Rangavis (1853, 239–42), the church had been built with materials taken from an ancient ­temple to the east of the town. 95. Papalexandrou 2001, 2003. 96. Voudouri 2008, 125; Loukaki 2008, 139; Petrakos 2015, 1:10–11, 2:9 no. 4. 97. Voudouri 2008, 125; 2017, 77; Petrakos 2013, 2:117; 2015, 1:46–47, 2:58–60 no. 36. 98. Petrakos 2015, 1:409–10. 99. Petrakos 2013, 2:120; Georgopoulos 2014, 58. 100. Vischer 1857, 323. 101. Bursian 1855, 57; Conze 1859, 33. Mandis (2013, 26n35) follows Dorovinis in identifying the pharmacy as that owned by the Roussos ­family, a short distance northwest of St. Peter’s Square. 102. Breton 1868, 349. 103. Milchhöfer 1879; cf. Sandys 1887, 50; Koryllos 1890, 120. See Dorovinis 2012, 19–23; Mandis 2013, 25–29. Stamatakis was also responsible for the display of archaeological collections at the museums of Thebes, Chaironeia, Plataia, Tanagra, Delphi, Aulis, Thespiai, Nemea, and Aigion, see Banaka 2014, 257. 104. Conze and Michaëlis 1861, 16–17; Petit 1879, 19; Milchhöfer 1879, 148; Isambert 1881, 268; Sandys 1887, 50; Paganelis 1891, 319. 105. Argos (I) 35 (February 9, 1845), 2; Mandis 2013, 25. 106. Schaub 1865, 222–23; Larroumet 1898, 49. 107. Athens National Archaeological Museum, nos. 188, 3153, 3248, 3153; Milchhöfer 1879, 149 no. 484, 150–51 no. 489, 153 no. 501, 153–54 no. 502, 156 d; Marcadé and Raftopoulou 1963, 185–86 no. 179. Descriptions in Conze and Michaëlis 1861, 16–17; Mahaffy 1876, 271–72; Petit 1879, 19; Sandys 1887, 50; Koryllos 1890, 120; Paganelis 1891, 319; Le Camus 1896, 79–80. 108. See Mandis 2013, 28.

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109. Mandis 2013, 30. See DeltArch 8 (1892), 50–51 for the transfer from Argos to Athens of six artefacts that Rangavis and Bursian had excavated at the Heraion. 110. Leake 1846, 258–64; Howard 1855, 255n. 111. Rangavis 1855; cf. Isambert 1881, 268; Kofiniotis 1892, 135–36. 112. Argos (I) 32 ( January  12, 1845), 4; 33 ( January  20, 1845), 3–4; 37 (March  3, 1845), 4. See also Mandis 2013, 24. 113. Argos (III) 168 (April 27, 1912), 3. 114. Kofiniotis 1892, 84. 115. Zenginis 1996, 345. In 1885, Papalexopoulos was elected to parliament, belonging to the party of Diligiannis; he had studied in Greece and France: Koumadorakis 2007, 363–64. 116. Georgopoulos 2014, 60. 117. Petrakos 2015, 1:58–59, 2:104 no. 71; Georgopoulos 2014, 58–59. 118. Mandis 2013, 26. 119. Argos (I) 35 (February 9, 1845), 2. According to Article 61 of legislation introduced by Georg Ludwig von Maurer in 1834, all antiquities discovered within Greece ­were considered the national property of all Greeks; owner­ship rights to antiquities discovered on private property a­ fter 1834 ­were split between the landowner and the state, although the state had a preemptive right of purchase in the case of sale and exportation was prohibited without a permit: Voudouri 2017, 78–79. 120. Conze and Michaëlis 1861, 17; Schliemann 1869, 104–5; Mahaffy 1876, 268. 121. Petit 1879, 19. 122. Kondis 2009a. 123. Argos (I) 19 (October 6, 1844), 2. 124. Hamilakis 2007, 39. 125. Argos (I) 37 (March 3, 1845), 4. The “certain foreign enemies” almost certainly include the Austrian historian Jakob Philipp Fallmerayer who, in 1830, had infamously disputed that the modern Greeks w ­ ere the direct lineal descendants of the ancient Greeks. 126. Argos (I) 38 (March 12, 1845), 3. 127. Kondis 2009a, 96–97. See the comments in Inachos 2 ( January 6, 1901), 2. 128. Danaos (I) 9 ( June 24, 1883), 2–3. 129. Danaos (I) 28 (February 14, 1884), 4. 130. Danaos (I) 30 (March 21, 1884), 2–3; see 31 (April 4, 1884), 3 for a correction of Filios’s affiliation. 131. Danaos (I) 36 ( June 14, 1884), 4. 132. Danaos (I) 38 ( July 13, 1884), 3. 133. Danaos (I) 49 (October 30, 1884), 2–3. 134. Danaos (I) 46 (September 13, 1884), 3. For Stamatakis, see Petrakos 2013, 2:20. 135. For Vardouniotis’s appointment as ephor of the archaeological museum and its accompanying library, see Danaos (I) 16 (October 25, 1883), 2. Vardouniotis also served at vari­ous times as editor of the newspapers Argos (II), Argolis, and Inachos: Dorovinis 2009, 87. 136. Danaos (I) 51 (December 22, 1884); cited in Kondis 2011, 124. 137. Strabo 8.6.11; Pausanias 4.24.4, 27.8, 35.2. See further Hall 1995, 583–85.

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138. Argos (II) 51 (February 21, 1888), 3. The theft is first reported in Argos (II) 42 (November 18, 1887), 1. 139. Argos (II) 52 (February 28, 1888), 1–2. 140. Estia 176 (August 24, 1900), 3. 141. Danaos (II) 117 (March 13, 1901), 4; Inachos 4 (March 16, 1901), 4; 7 ( June 29, 1901), 4; 8 ( January 25, 1902), 3. 142. Paganelis 1891, 319–20. 143. For the law of 1837: Georgopoulos 2014, 58; cf. Voudouri 2017. 144. Paganelis 1891, 320–22; cf. Vollgraff 1907, 181. See Fusco 2016. 145. Paganelis 1891, 322. 146. Agamemnon 52 (October 21, 1892), cited in Koumadorakis 2007, 597 no. 51. 147. Argos (II) 59 (September 7, 1888), 2–3. 148. Compare, for example, Kofiniotis 1892, 44: “But in the ­middle of this joy, which one perceives from the view from the Larisa, one is overtaken by a fierce pain and sadness, reckoning how much ­today’s city differs from the city of gods and kings.” Kofiniotis then proceeds to quote Pouqueville. Conversely, Xintaras (2009, 301) thinks that the author is Vardouniotis. 149. Argolis 383 (February 15, 1883), 4. The Simantiras h ­ ouse is now occupied by the National Bank; see Dorovinis 2009, 11–13. 150. Argos (II) 33 (August 29, 1887), 3; 36 (September 20, 1887), 2. 151. Agamemnon (August 15, 1892), cited in Dorovinis 2009, 14–15. For the general hostility of the local press to Trikoupis’s modernizing policies, see Tsilimingras 2009. 152. Dorovinis 2009, 12. 153. Koumadorakis 2007, 276; Dorovinis 2009, 15. 154. Argolis 427 (May 20, 1888), 1; see Dorovinis 2009, 31. 155. Argos (II) 57 (June 26, 1888), 2; DeltArch 4 (1888): 205; Frothingham 1888, 360; 1889, 101–2; Kofiniotis 1892, 39–40. 156. Kofiniotis 1892, 154–55. 157. Kofiniotis 1892, 86–89; DeltArch 7 (1891): 86. 158. Argos (II) 46 (December  24, 1887), 2; cf. 47 ( January  1, 1888), 1–2. The announcement of the projected two volumes appeared in Apollon 85 for January 1892, reproduced in Dorovinis 2009, 27–28. Cf. Kofiniotis 1892, 30. 159. Argos (II) 46 (December 24, 1887), 2; 47 ( January 1, 1888), 1–2; see Dorovinis 2009, 29–30. 160. Kofiniotis 1892, 5. 161. Augustinos 2008. 162. Kakridis 1978, 17–27; Hamilakis 2007, 66–67; 2011, 55–57; Kaplanis 2014, 88–90. An early attempt to rehabilitate the term Hellenes can be seen in Grigorios Fatzeas’s Geo­graph­i­cal Grammar, published in Venice in 1760: see Myrogiannis 2012, 97. Similarly, in their Geografia Neoteriki, Daniel Philippides and Grigorios Konstantas (1791, 142) protest that “­today’s Hellenes are quite improperly named Romans.” From about 1800 CE, Koraïs himself switched from using the terms Christiani and Romei to employing instead Graïkoi and Hellenes: Myrogiannis 2012, 140. 163. Braude 1982; Greene 2015, 29–30, 163–68. 164. Dimaras et al. 1964, 101 (translated in Clogg 1976, 118–19). 165. Zalikoglou 1809, xxx.

NOTES TO PA G ES 1 2 7 – 1 3 2

207

166. Mackridge 2010; Van Dyck 2009. 167. Herzfeld 1987, 65; Hamilakis 2007, 58–64. 168. Stewart 2017, 5; cf. Hamilakis 2011, 56–57. 169. For Paparrigopoulos, see Koliopoulos and Veremis 2002, 233–35, 245–46; Hamilakis 2007, 115–17 170. Hamilakis 2007, 290; cf. Hamilakis and Yalouri 1999; Yalouri 2001, 137–86. In circulars issued by the Ministry for Ecclesiastical Affairs and Public Education in the mid-­nineteenth ­century, antiquities are regularly described as “sacred ancestral heirlooms”: Voudouri 2017, 79. 171. Kofiniotis 1892, 5–6. 172. Kofiniotis 1892, 42; cf. Curtius 1852, 362. 173. Kofiniotis 1892, 77–79; cf. Curtius 1852, 561; Bursian 1872, 49–50. 174. Kofiniotis 1892, 90–92. 175. Kofiniotis 1892, 47; cf. Bursian 1872, 51. 176. Kofiniotis 1892, 113. 177. Kofiniotis 1892, 161, 163. 178. Kofiniotis 1892, 42. For other errors, see Kritzas 2012, 143. 179. Danaos (ΙΙ) 1 (December 25, 1895), 3; Papaïkonomos 1910, 128; Stasinopoulos 2007b, 5. 180. Papaïkonomos 1910, 129; Papanikolaos 2007, 27–28. 181. Danaos (ΙΙ) 76 (December 4, 1898), 1; Papaïkonomos 1910, 129; Psomadakis 2007, 51–53. 182. Danaos (ΙΙ) 26 ( June 16, 1896), 1. 183. Danaos (ΙΙ) 70 (September 5, 1898), 1–3; 98–99 (May 14, 1900), 1–2; Papaïkonomos 1910, 129–36; Koumadorakis 2007, 372–73; Papanikolaos 2007, 29–30; Psomadakis 2007, 52–57. 184. Danaos (ΙΙ) 108 (October 15, 1900), 1. Zachos 2007; Maltezos 2007; Totsikas 2009, 430. 185. Danaos (ΙΙ) 1 (December 25, 1895), 1. 186. Danousis 2007b, 67–68. 187. Danaos (ΙΙ) 47 (November 14, 1896), 4. 188. For example, Danaos (ΙΙ) 2 ( January  1, 1896), 3, rec­ords a lecture on the Greekness of Makedonia by the society’s general secretary, Agamemnon Fikiotis, on October  19  /  31, 1895, while the national parliamentarian Sotiris Danopoulos talked about the Filiki Eteria on October 26 / November 7 and about Ypsilantis and Kapodistrias on December  3  /  15: see Danaos (II) 3 ( January  7, 1896), 2. Fikiotis would address the society’s members on the subject of ancient Argos in 1904 (Stasinopoulos 2007a, 39–43), but this was something of a rarity. However, issue 6 ( January 28, 1896), 4, does give notice of a recent publication by a Sp. K. Prophantopoulos on the ancient monuments of Nafplio and Argos. 189. Danaos (II) 26 ( June 16, 1896), 4. 190. Danaos (II) 35 (August 18, 1896), 4. See Kondis 2009b, 76–77. 191. Danaos (II) 117 (March 13, 1901), 4. 192. Danousis 2007, 70n21; Dorovinis 2018, 71. 193. Inachos 1 (December 9, 1900), 1–2. 194. Inachos 4 (March 16, 1901), 1–2; cf. Danaos (II) 117 (March 13, 1901), 3.

20 8 NOTES

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5. A New Age of Archaeological Heritage

1. Biographical information on Vollgraff can be found in Agrotiki Argolis 196 (September 7, 1930), 1; Kamerbeek 1967–1968; Te Riele 1969; and Piérart 2013, 33–34. 2. Vollgraff 1909b. 3. JFA May 14 / 27, 1902. Originally, Vollgraff wrote that he had collected “Mycenaean” sherds, but ­later crossed this out and replaced it with “prehistoric.” 4. Dorovinis 2013, 44; cf. Mykine 54 (May 19, 1902). 5. Vollgraff 1956. 6. Dorovinis 2013. 7. JFA May 15 / 28, 1902. See generally Piérart 2013, 36. 8. E.g. JFA May 16 / 29, 1902 (nine workers); May 30 / June 12, 1902 (sixteen workers). 9. Piérart 2013, 35; Croissant 2013, 61. 10. Initial evidence for all three fortification systems came to light on the first day of excavations: JFA May 15 / 28, 1902. The three sets of fortifications can be seen on the map in Piérart and Touchais 1996, 14 (online at https://­books​.­openedition​.­org​ /­editionscnrs​/­3857). 11. Vollgraff 1907, 141, 143, 150–52; cf. Vollgraff 1906. 12. JFA May 20 / June 2, 1902; June 27 / July 10, 1902. 13. Wilamowitz-­Moellendorff 1909, 17n4; Kofiniotis 1892, 47. See Piérart 2013, 34n15. 14. Cf. Vollgraff 1907, 152–54. 15. Vollgraff 1907, 157. 16. In Danaïs 23 (November 18, 1911), 2, Vardouniotis himself explains that he was appointed prefect by the Ministry of Education in November  1901; see Dorovinis 2012, 20. 17. For Skias, see Petrakos 2013, 2:30–31. 18. Cf. Vollgraff 1907, 364–67. 19. See the report in Danaos (II) 140 ( July 5, 1903), 2. 20. Vollgraff 1903, 270 no. 28, 277–78 nos. 29–30; 1907, 159–61; 1956, 109–17. 21. JFA August  2 / 15, 1902; August  9 / 22, 1902; August  21 / September  3, 1902. ­Later, Vollgraff (1907, 161) admitted that the investigation had been guided solely by Pausanias’s description rather than any archaeological considerations. 22. For the neighborhoods of Argos in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, see Sève 1979, 179n8. 23. JFA August 17/30, 1902. 24. Mykine 65 (August 25, 1902). 25. Mykine 54 (May 19, 1902). 26. Mykine 55 (May 26, 1902). 27. Mykine 56 ( June 2, 1902); 57 ( June 9, 1902). 28. Mykine 58 ( June 16, 1902); cf. 59 ( June 23, 1902). 29. Mykine 59 ( June 23, 1902), 2. 30. Inachos 2 ( January  6, 1901); cf. Keri 4322 (December  13, 1900), 2; Reinach 1900, 325. 31. Kofiniotis 1892, 81; cf. Le Camus 1896, 79. 32. Mykine 60 ( June 30, 1902).

NOTES TO PA G ES 1 3 9 – 1 4 4

209

33. Inachos 9–10 ( July 6, 1902), 1–3. 34. Mykine 61 ( July 14, 1902). For Kavvadias, see Petrakos 2013, 2:22–23. 35. Mykine 65 (August 25, 1902). 36. Roussos, a doctor by profession, served as mayor from 1899 to 1903. See Koumadorakis 2007, 413. 37. Inachos 9–10 ( July 6, 1902), 7; cf. Mykine 61 ( July 14, 1902). For the closure of the museum, see Dorovinis 2012, 24–26. 38. Danaos (II) 127 ( January 5, 1903), 2. 39. Danaos (II) 128 ( January 18, 1903), 2. 40. Danaos (II) 132 (March 14, 1903), 2. 41. Mykine 66 (September 15, 1902). 42. Inachos 11 ( January 1, 1903). 43. The trees that currently cover the Aspis began to be planted in the 1920s. For text-­driven archaeology, see Hall 2014, 7–10. 44. Vollgraff 1956, 85. 45. Bouras 1987, 455. 46. Inachos 11 ( January 1, 1903). 47. JFA May 19 / June 1, 1903. 48. Mykine 59 ( June 23, 1902), 2. 49. Danaos (II) 137 (May 29, 1903); Mykine 85 ( June 8, 1903). 50. For the inscription, see Vollgraff 1904b, 427 no. 8. 51. Danaos (II) 138 ( June 10, 1903), 1. 52. A ­ later entry in his journal regarding the clearing of this grave (JFA July 22 / August 4, 1903) first describes it as “Geometric,” though this is then emended to “Hellenic.” Vollgraff (1904a, 365–66) makes it clear, however, that he would come to regard most of the post-­Mycenaean activity in the cemetery as belonging to the Geometric period (i.e., eighth ­century BCE). 53. JFA June 21 / July 4, 1903. As a consequence, the earth that now blocked the dromos of Tomb 5 had to be cleared again between July 19 / August 1 and July 21 / August 3; cf. Vollgraff 1904a, 369. 54. Danaos (II) 139 ( June 22, 1903), 1. 55. Danaos (II) 139 ( June 22, 1903), 3. 56. JFA June 26 / July 9, 1903. 57. Press reports on this work appear in Danaos (II) 140 ( July 5, 1903), 2 and 141 ( July 25, 1903), 1–2. 58. Danaos (II) 142 (August 15, 1903), 2. A state fund for the expropriation of private property was not established ­until 1910, even though Article 1 of Law 2646, passed in 1899, established “an exclusive right of owner­ship of the state to all antiquities, movable and immovable, anywhere in Greece, even on private land”: Voudouri 2008, 127; 2017, 79; Loukaki 2008, 142–43. 59. Danaos (II) 145 (November 9, 1903), 4; 147 (December 6, 1903), 4; 149 ( January 25, 1904), 4. 60. Danaos (II) 149 ( January 25, 1904), 2. Zenginis also discovered a limestone relief that portrayed a ­woman praying in front of an altar and communicated this fact to Petros Farmakopoulos, prefect of antiquities for the Argolid, on January 12 / 25: see Banaka 2014, 268–69 n. 25. The relief was published in Vollgraff 1909a, 458–61.

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61. In JFA July  8 / 21, 1904, Vollgraff notes that the Gavrilis ­family was also known by the name Michalopoulos. 62. Vollgraff 1907, 179–80. 63. Kouzis (1870–1958), who was the nephew of the former mayor and member of parliament Michaïl Papalexopoulos, was a doctor by profession. He was elected mayor in 1903 and remained in office ­until 1907; in 1910, he entered the Greek parliament as part of Eleftherios Venizelos’s party. See Koumadorakis 2007, 268–69. 64. Karatzas was originally a ­lawyer by profession who married the ­daughter (Eleni) of Dimitrios Tsokris. He was elected to parliament in 1894 and 1899 and served as mayor from 1907 to 1914. See Koumadorakis 2007, 240–41. 65. Vollgraff 1907, 178; cf. Piérart 1982, 149–51. See, however, Piteros (2013, 342), who believes that the eastern flank of the city wall passed just to the east of the church of St. Constantine, effectively ruling out the identification of the remains in the Karatzas plot with the Gymnasium of Kylarabis. 66. Vollgraff 1904a. 67. Danaos (II) 153 (November 5, 1904). 68. Contrary to what is stated in Danousis (2007b, 70), the final issue of Danaos (no. 154) appeared on May 12, 1905. 69. Cf. Vollgraff 1907, 177. 70. Vollgraff 1907, 174n1. Brief reports of the 1906 excavations are given in Argos (III) 18 ( June 8, 1906), 19 ( June 18, 1906), and 20 ( June 29, 1906). 71. Argos (III) 31 (November 2, 1906). 72. Vollgraff 1903, 260. 73. Vollgraff 1903, 263 nos. 7 and 10; 1904b, 420 no. 1. Vollgraff does not specify the location of the church: it might be in the village of Laloukas, east of Argos. 74. Vollgraff 1904b, 421–24 no. 6; SEG 1.69. 75. Piérart 2013, 35. 76. E.g., Goekoop 1908, which attempts to trace Odysseus’s homeland. 77. Iliad 2.559–64; cf. Iliad 6.224, 14.119; Odyssey 3.180. 78. Wathelet 1992. 79. Inachos 9–10 ( July 6, 1902), 1–3. 80. Vollgraff 1907, 149, 152–54, 160–61, 171. 81. Vollgraff 1907, 172 fig. 6. 82. Vollgraff 1907, 182–83. For the erroneous interpretation of ὑπὲρ, see chapter 2 above. 83. Meyer 1901, 207; Baedeker 1905, 333; cf. Speth-­Schülzburg 1903, 138; Kurz 1913, 128. 84. Marden 1907, 187. 85. Kondis 2009b, 59–60. 86. Baedeker 1905, 321–22. 87. Reisinger 1916, 58. 88. Meyer 1901, 207. 89. Meyer 1901, 208; Speth-­Schülzburg 1903, 138–39; Baedeker 1905, 334. 90. Baedeker 1905, 335. 91. Marden 1907, 187–88. 92. Meyer 1901, 208; Baedeker 1905, 333.

NOTES TO PA G ES 1 5 0 – 1 5 5

211

93. Simitzopoulos 1910, 249. 94. Simitzopoulos 1910, 249–50. 95. Argos (III) 106 ( January 1, 1911), 2. 96. Argos (III) 120 (April 15, 1911), 3. 97. Argos (III) 121 (April 20, 1911), 2. 98. Argos (III) 126 (May 25, 1911), 3; cf. 168 (April 27, 1912), 1. See Dorovinis 2012, 26. 99. Argos (III) 133 ( July 24, 1911), 1–3. 100. Argos (III) 171 (May 16, 2012), 3. ­There is no evidence that Vollgraff made good on this agreement. 101. Argos (III) 170 (May 9, 2012), 3. 102. Contrast the German writer Isolde Kurz (1913, 128), who visited the town in 1912 and was disappointed—­like so many of her predecessors—to find no trace of “ancient heroic Argos.” 103. Fougères 1911, 387, 396–400. 104. Argos (III) 154 (December 31, 1911), 2. 105. Argos (III) 172 (May 26, 1912), 4. 106. See Argos (III) 167 (April 20, 1912), 4. Although Greece did not officially adopt the New Style (Gregorian) calendar ­until the end of February 1923, from 1912 onward Vollgraff discontinued his practice of providing dual dates in his journal. 107. Argos (III) 167 (April 20, 1912), 3. 108. Vollgraff 1920, 220–22. 109. Vollgraff 1920, 223. For the nymphaeum: Marchetti and Kolokotsas 1995, 19. 110. Argos (III)168 (April 27, 1912), 3. 111. Argos (III)169 (May 5, 1912), 3. 112. Vollgraff 1920, 219. By 1930, he had become agnostic as to the identification of the deity: Agrotiki Argolis 197 (September 14, 1930), 1. 113. Bommelaer and des Courtils 1994, 7. For the inscription: Argos (III) 171 (May 16, 1912), 2. 114. Argos (III) 174 ( June 8, 1912), 2–3. 115. Vollgraff 1920, 223. 116. Argos (III) 172 (May 26, 1912), 3; cf. 174 ( June 8, 1912), 2–3. 117. See Argos (III) 177 ( June 28, 1912), 4. 118. Agrotiki Argolis 22 ( January 16, 1927), 2. 119. Hall 2000; Gerolymatos 2001, 195–232; Clogg 2013, 79–83; Gallant 2015, 316–25; Beaton 2019, 192–97. 120. Dorovinis 1989b, 84. 121. Leontaritis 1990; Llewellyn Smith 1998, 35–61; Dalby 2010, 55–75; Clogg 2013, 83–91; Beaton 2019, 201–11. 122. Dorovinis 2018, 69–70. Argos’s royalist tendencies had already been highlighted in Inachos 2 ( January  6, 1901), 2. According to Argiaka Nea 1 (February  19, 1933), ­there was only one pro-­Venizelist café in the town (the Café Veliziotis in St. Peter’s Square): see Kondis 2009b, 81. 123. Dorovinis 2018, 71–73. 124. Koumadorakis 2007, 250, 589 no. 28. 125. Llewellyn Smith 1998; Gallant 2001, 141–44; Clogg 2013, 85–97; Beaton 2019, 218–26.

21 2 NOTES

TO PAGES 1 5 6 –1 6 3

126. The figures are ­those of Kalyvas (2015, 74). 127. Argos (III) 194 (November 3, 1912), 2; Dorovinis 1979b, 38; Reynal and Rio 1980a, 49. 128. Dorovinis 2013, 50; 2018, 68. 129. Hutton 1928, 223; cf. Dixon 1929, 142. 130. Hutton 1928, 221–22, 223. 131. Agrotiki Argolis 21 ( January 9, 1927), 2. 132. Agrotiki Argolis 22 ( January 16, 1927), 2. 133. Agrotiki Argolis 23 ( January 23, 1927), 2. 134. Agrotiki Argolis 80 (May 13, 1928), 2. 135. Agrotiki Argolis 81 (May 20, 1928), 2. 136. Vollgraff 1928, 316; Agrotiki Argolis 84 ( June 10, 1928), 3. 137. Banaka 2014, 258. 138. Agrotiki Argolis 83 ( June 3, 1928), 1. 139. Agrotiki Argolis 83 ( June 3, 1928), 3. See Dorovinis 2012, 27. 140. In fact, no palace has come to light at the site of the Argive Heraion, although it was the location of a prehistoric settlement. 141. Agrotiki Argolis 84 ( June 10, 1928), 3–4. 142. Panargiaki 83 ( June 17, 1928). 143. JFA June 16, 1928. 144. Agrotiki Argolis 86 ( June 24, 1928), 1. 145. JFA June 26, 1928. 146. Agrotiki Argolis 90 ( July 22, 1928), 3. See also Béquinon 1928, 476, 478. 147. Agrotiki Argolis 93 (August 12, 1928), 2; Vollgraff 1928, 319; Béquinon 1928, 476. 148. Panargiaki 86 ( July 29, 1928). 149. Panargiaki 89 (September 9, 1928). 150. Panargiaki 90 (September 30, 1928). 151. JFA June 6–7, 1930; Béquinon 1930, 480. 152. JFA August 20–23, 1928; June 2, 1930. 153. In an interview ­later that year, however, Vollgraff mentions that he discovered two steatite seals “of ­great value for the depictions on them.” 154. Béquinon 1930, 481. 155. Agrotiki Argolis 189 ( July 6, 1930). 156. JFA June 27–28, 1930. 157. Vollgraff 1945, 5–6. 158. Vollgraff 1945, 9. 159. Roux 1954, 164–67. 160. Béquinon 1930, 481 (where it is tentatively conjectured that the mosaics belong to the atrium of an Early Christian basilica). A detailed account of the 1930 findings is recorded in Telesilla 35 ( July 20, 1930), 1. 161. Reported in Agrotiki Argolis 185 ( June 8, 1930), 1. 162. Vollgraff 1944, 391, 397. 163. Agrotiki Argolis 196 (September 7, 1930), 1. 164. Agrotiki Argolis 197 (September 14, 1930), 1–2. 165. Dorovinis 2013, 51. 166. Published in Mulliez and Banaka-­Dimaki 2013.

NOTES TO PA GES 1 6 3 – 1 7 2

213

167. Agrotiki Argolis 196 (September 7, 1930), 1. 168. Mykine 55 (May 26, 1902). 169. Sensine 1931, 80. 170. Agrotiki Argolis 203 (November 9, 1930), 2. 171. Agrotiki Argolis 239 (August 2, 1931), 2. 172. Agrotiki Argolis 243 (August 30, 1931), 2. 173. Aspis tou Argous (October 22, 1933), cited in Dorovinis 2012, 27–28. For the sale of the ­house, see Dorovinis 1990b, 62. 174. See Dorovinis 2012, 28. 175. According to Amandry (1944, 428), the Italian troops occupying Argos destroyed some of the remains unearthed by Vollgraff. Conclusion

1. Danousis 1994; Zenginis 1996, 404–9; Piérart and Touchais 1996, 114–15; Koumadorakis 2007, 599–600 no. 56. 2. In Roux 1953, 243n2. See Croissant 2013, 61. 3. Roux 1954, 244–48. 4. Dorovinis 2012, 29. 5. Tziabasis 2014, 343; Banaka 2014, 258–61. 6. Dorovinis 1990b, 61–62; 2012, 29–31; 2013, 45; Banaka 2014, 261–63. 7. Daux 1962, 905. 8. Croissant 2013, 63. 9. Roux 1953, 253. 10. Courbin 1953. 11. Gallet de Santerre 1952, 220–21. 12. Gallet de Santerre 1953, 211. 13. Piérart and Touchais 1996, 113. 14. Reynal and Rio 1980a, 21, 51. 15. EFA ARGOS 3-­A-1b; Reynal and Rio 1980a, 24. 16. Reynal and Rio 1980a, 53. 17. For example, by 1990 it was estimated that a l­ittle more than 10 ­percent of the surface area of the town had been excavated: Kolokotsas 1998, 42. The figure would, of course, have been much lower if it had been l­imited to designated archaeological sites such as the Aspis or the agora. 18. Kolokotsas 1998, 442, 448 fig. 5. 19. Reynal and Rio 1980b, 137. By comparison, the nationwide expense of expropriating properties of archaeological interest in 2016 had risen to almost 9 million euros (a ­little over 3 billion drachmas), while revenue from the Archaeological Receipts Fund was below 4 million euros: Hellenic Republic, Hellenic Statistical Authority, “Press Release: Survey on Cultural Activities of the Ministry of Culture and Sports,” December 7, 2018. 20. Croissant 2013, 65. See the more general comments of Loukaki 2008, 137. 21. Croissant 1998, 461. 22. Dorovinis 2013, 45. 23. Lowenthal 1985, 38. 24. Kolokotsas 1998, 441.

21 4 NOTES

TO PAGES 1 7 3 –1 7 9

25. Dorovinis 2013, 46. 26. Neoclassical buildings had come ­under the official protection of the state just three years e­ arlier, in 1975: Philippides 2008, 375–76. 27. Reynal and Rio 1980b, 149–50, 156; 1980b, 75–76; 1983; Aupert 1981; Aupert, Reynal, and Rio 1981; Croissant 2013, 65. 28. Reynal and Rio 1980b, 186. 29. Reynal and Rio 1981, 7. 30. EFA ARGOS 3-­A-1b. 31. EFA ARGOS 3-­A-1e. 32. Cf. Reynal and Rio 1981, 5; Croissant 1998, 461. 33. Dorovinis 2013, 46. 34. Croissant 2013, 66. 35. Kolokotsas 1998, 442; Croissant 1998, 462–65; 2013, 65; cf. Reynal and Rio 1980a, 75–76; 1982, 24. As Dorovinis (2013, 46) points out, the Urban Reconstruction Proj­ect did not adopt the proposals of the Franco-­Hellenic initiative regarding Byzantine and modern monuments. 36. Reynal and Rio 1980b, 178. 37. Koumadorakis 2007, 27–29. 38. Croissant 2013, 66; cf. Reynal and Rio 1981, 7–9. 39. FEK–­AAP 269 ( July 12, 2010), 2777, 2782. The General Urban Plan pays lip ser­ vice to the provision of Article 13 of Law 3028/2002, which distinguishes between A Zones (zones of absolute protection) and B Zones (buffer zones) but, as Voutsakis (2017, 207) has argued, the law contains “only a rather pale proclamation about the state’s duty to include the protection of cultural heritage in any form of town-­ planning or environmental planning.” As Papageorgiou (2015) points out, pro­g ress is hampered by the fact that two dif­fer­ent ministries (the Ministry of Culture and the Ministry of the Environment) are involved. 40. Dorovinis 2017a. 41. Kolokotsas 1998, 442. 42. FEK–­AAP 269 ( July 12, 2010), 2768. 43. Eurostat 2021. 44. Dixon et al. 2019, 8, 57–58. 45. Bastéa 2000, 41. 46. Avdela 2000; Hamilakis 2003; Nakou and Apostolidou 2010. 47. Dixon et  al. 2019, 8, 25, 45. In early 2019, overall unemployment in Greece stood at 19 ­percent, with 39 ­percent youth unemployment. 48. Tamisoglou 2010. 49. Smith 2004, 2. 50. Voutsakis 2017, 204–6. 51. Herzfeld 1991, 226. 52. Herzfeld 1991, 205. 53. Kostakis, Lolos, and Doulgeraki 2020, 3. 54. Kostakis, Lolos, and Doulgeraki 2020, 8, 17. 55. Bowitz and Ibenholt 2009. 56. Greffe 2004. 57. Koumadorakis 2007.

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Index

Achaïa, 30, 63 Achaian League, 29 Achladokambos, 168 Adam, Juliette, 132 Agamemnon, 41, 82, 122; palace of, 46, 50, 61, 82, 190n53 Agamemnon (newspaper), 121, 124, 125 Ageladas, 124, 158 Agionori, 43, 67 Agios Georgios, 67 agora, 14, 18, 30, 31, 55, 56, 139, 142, 143, 144, 146, 148, 151, 152–153, 158, 159, 160, 161, 165, 168–169, 170, 172, 174, 175, 177, 213n17 Agrotiki Argolis (newspaper), 156, 157, 158, 159, 160, 161, 162, 163, 164, 165 Aigeai (Cilicia), 147 Aigina. See Egina Aischylos, 50, 190n53 Al Idrissi, Muhammed, 33, 36 Albanians, 34, 35, 38–39, 42, 43, 64, 67, 108, 126, 187n57 Aldenhoven, Ferdinand, 114 Alexander, King, 155 Alexopoulos, Georgios, 157 Ali Pasha of Ioannina, 42, 64, 66, 188n6 allochrony, 9, 10, 54, 61, 108 Amalia, Queen, 103, 107 American School of Classical Studies at Athens, 161 anastylosis, 173 Anthimos, Bishop of Ilioupolis, 75, 195n44 antiquities: collections, 17, 96, 117–118; illicit acquisition of, 48–49, 120, 139–140, 152, 156; legislation protecting, 6, 7, 97, 120, 124, 205n119, 209n58. See also dimarchio; museum Antonopoulos, Stamatelos, 64 archaeological park, 174, 175, 176, 177

Archaeological Ser­vice, 11, 137, 139, 170, 171. See also Fourth Ephorate of Prehistoric and Classical Antiquities Archaeological Society of Athens, 91, 118, 119–120, 122, 124, 138, 151, 157, 164, 170 archaeology, 14, 62; as secular religion, 121, 128; excavations, 119–120, 138; rescue excavations, 170, 171, 173, 174, 176, 213n17; stakeholders, 2–3, 4, 133, 164, 178, 179; stratigraphy, 13, 62, 135 Argiakon Vima (newspaper), 4, 5, 174 Argive Danaos Society, 8, 17, 91, 129–132, 133, 140, 194n5 Argolikon Imerologion, 149–150 Argos (newspaper), 77, 111, 119, 120, 121, 146, 150–151, 152, 153, 158, 160, 163 Aristippos, 28–29, 143 Aristomachos, 29, 143 Asia Minor catastrophe, 3, 155–156 Aspis hill, 21, 64, 134, 135, 139, 173, 185n1, 209n43, 213n17; chapel of Profitis Ilias, 136, 140–141; Christian basilica, 31, 137, 142, 144, 146; cisterns, 48, 83, 114, 128, 136, 148, 149; prehistoric settlement, 26, 136, 138, 139, 140, 143, 148, 149, 150, 151, 158, 164, 168, 208n10. See also sanctuaries: Apollo Pythaeus Aspis tou Argous (newspaper), 165 Astros, 74. See also national assembly: 2nd Athens, 27, 28, 54, 60, 71, 92, 103, 104, 107, 111, 118, 136, 155, 156; acropolis, 2, 70; as national capital, 80, 101–102, 104, 121, 126, 197–198n83; city plan, 98; National Archaeological Museum, 119, 123, 138, 139, 142, 150, 160, 163, 164, 169; Numismatic Museum, 123; University of Athens, 125, 129 Attalos (sculptor), 42, 58 Avramiotis, Dionysios, 41, 44, 50, 61

239

24 0 I nde x

Balkan Wars, 3, 154 barracks (Kapodistrian), 3–6, 7, 74, 77, 95, 107, 108, 113, 154, 156, 167, 173, 175 Barrington, Richard, 105 Baths A, 24–26, 37, 38, 39, 46, 61, 82, 98, 113, 128, 149, 151, 157, 168, 174, 175, 177, 188n80, 192n121, 203n74; cryptoportico, 48, 83, 113, 128, 190n64, 203n75 Beaujour, Louis-­Auguste Félix de, 42, 45 Bertrand, Alexandre, 90, 115 Black, William, 82 Blouet, Guillaume-­Abel, 38, 76, 82, 83, 87–88, 90, 91, 92 Bobos, Konstantinos, 165 Boissier, Valérie, comtesse de Gasparin, 105, 106 Bonis, Dimitrios, 3, 5, 8 Boubouli, Laskarina (Bouboulina), 64, 91–92 Bouchon, Jean Alexandre, 90 Bovet, Marie Anne de, 110 Brandis, Christian, 90, 104 British Museum, 2, 42, 188n15 British, 71, 106 Buchon, Jean Alexandre, 114 Burgess, Richard, 50, 104, 106 Bursian, Conrad, 114–115, 118, 119, 128, 136 Byron, George Gordon Noel, Sixth Baron, 66, 199n113 Byzantine Museum of the Argolid, 3, 177 Byzantines, 3, 5, 10, 13, 15, 31–34, 126, 137, 141, 145, 147, 152, 160, 170 cafés, 106, 111; Telesillion, 132 Carnarvon, Henry John George Herbert, Third Earl, 104, 105 Cassas, Louis-­François, 41, 46 Çelebi, Evliyâ, 8, 15, 36, 37 Central Archaeological Council, 4, 5 Chandler, Richard, 40, 44, 49, 51, 61, 62 Chateaubriand, François-­René de, 41, 44, 45, 46, 50, 61, 82 Chenevard, Antoine-­Marie, 113 Chesnau, Jean, 36 Chios, 35, 66 Choiseul-­Gouffier, Marie-­Gabriel-­Florent-­ Auguste, 40–41 Chronicle of Monemvasia, 31 Chronicle of the Morea, 34, 186n47 Church, Richard, 103–104, 195n33 churches: Dormition of the Virgin, 32, 39, 72, 81, 84, 95, 114, 156, 161, 170, 186n40, 189n21; St. Constantine, 31, 44, 77–79, 82, 95, 114, 145, 151, 210n65; St. Dimi-

trios, 95; St. George, 46, 82, 113, 128, 148; St. John the Baptist, 77, 93, 95, 116, 189n21, 197n81; St. Kyriaki, 147; St. Nicholas, 95, 203n65; St. Spyridon, 95. See also Peter the Thaumaturge, cathedral of Civil War, 18, 168, 170 Clark, William, 105, 196n52 Clarke, Edward Daniel, 41–42, 43, 44, 46, 47, 49, 82, 83, 113, 148 Cochrane, George, 105 Cockerell, Charles, 42 coins, 48, 49, 97, 118, 120, 123, 125, 126, 140, 142 colonialism, 2, 7, 9–10, 184n27; self-­ colonization, 11, 86 Constantine I, King, 154, 155 constitutionalist faction, 72–74, 77, 79 Conze, Alexander, 115, 118, 120 Corfu (Kerkyra), 71, 73, 92, 96 Corinth, 28, 29, 30, 33, 34, 35, 38, 64, 66–67, 70, 72, 92, 93, 107; Acrocorinth, 66; Corinthian isthmus, 35, 70, 73 Coron (Koroni), 71 Coronelli, Vincenzo, 15, 37 Crete, 11, 35, 69, 79, 102, 108, 154 Crimean War, 106 Cultural Association of Argos (POA), 3, 173–174 cultural heritage, 6–8, 18, 84, 101, 121, 124, 172, 174, 177–179, 183n7; Greek legislation, 6, 214n39. See also antiquities Curtius, Ernst, 113, 114, 128 Cusani, Francesco, 106 Cyriac of Ancona, 36 Dagalbio, Jean-­Michel, 113 Dalamanara, 64, 187n72 Damala. See national assembly: third Danae, 39, 198n100; prison of, 45, 47, 48, 56, 59, 61, 83, 128, 136, 148, 149, 190n56 Danaos (mythical king), 37, 46, 55, 56, 59, 60, 113, 128, 131, 144, 148 Danaos (newspaper), 17, 111, 121, 130–131, 132, 140, 142, 143, 145, 146, 163, 197n80, 210n68 Davesiès de Pontès, Lucien, 80, 82, 86, 91 Dawkins, Edward, 79, 197n78 de Bollmann, Louis, 76 de la Roche, Otto, 34 d’Enghien, Guy, 34 De Vere, Aubrey, 106

I n d e x Deiras ridge, 51, 56, 69, 136; ancient gate, 56, 136; Mycenaean cemetery, 18, 136–137, 138, 140, 143, 145, 150, 151, 158, 162, 168 Dervenaki pass, 55, 67 Dikeos, Grigorios (Papaflessas), 67, 118 Diligiannis, Theodoros, 125 dimarchio (town hall), 8, 17, 77, 95, 111, 167; collection of antiquities, 118–119, 122, 128, 135, 138, 139, 140, 141–142, 146, 149, 150, 151–152, 157, 158, 164, 169; theft of antiquities, 123, 132, 139, 169 d’Istria, Dora, 108 Dodwell, Edward, 42, 44, 45, 46, 47, 50, 59, 61, 82, 83, 113–114, 161 domestic architecture, 43, 76, 93, 106, 108 Don Pacifico incident, 106 Dörpfeld, Wilhelm, 147 Dramalis, Mahmud Pasha, 66–67, 75, 76, 87 Droysen, Johann Gustav, 127 École Française d’Athènes, 5, 18, 46, 55, 134, 135, 136, 140, 151, 157, 163, 168–175, 176, 178, 197n78 Egina (Aigina), 195nn32–33; archaeological museum (Kapodistrian), 96–98, 118; sanctuary of Aphaia, 42 Eileithuian Gate, 55, 56 ELAS (National Popu­lar Liberation Army), 167–168 Elgin, Thomas Bruce, Seventh Earl, 44, 62 Epidauros, 21, 28, 44, 56, 57, 89, 195n33. See also national assembly: 1st Erasinos (newspaper), 110, 121 Erasinos river, 94, 132, 151 Eteria Ton Filomouson, 61. See also Filomousos Eteria Ethnikos Dichasmos, 154–155 executive committee of the provisional government, 66, 68–69 Fabvier, Charles, 102 Fauvel, Louis-­François-­Sébastien, 40, 46, 113, 190n64 Filiki Eteria, 65, 71, 207n188 Filios, Dimitris, 122 Filomousos Eteria, 96 Finlay, George, 66, 119 First World War, 154 Fotomaras, Christos, 70 Foucherot, Jacques, 40, 45, 190n64 Fougère, Gustave, 151–152

241

Fourmont, Michel, 38–39, 47–48, 59, 61, 83, 161, 187–188nn79–80 Fourth Ephorate of Prehistoric and Classical Antiquities, 3, 18, 172, 176 Franks, 10, 15, 34, 123 Freeman, Edward, 108, 111, 113 French, 71, 106, 108; expeditionary force to the Morea, 71, 73–75, 77; Scientific Expedition to the Morea, 46, 47, 71, 72, 76, 82, 84, 87, 97 Gell, William, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 82, 113, 129, 148, 161 George I, King, 17, 108, 111, 154 Giraudeau de Saint-­Gervais, Jean, 76, 77, 83–84 Goekoop, Adriaan, 136, 140, 147, 154, 159 Gordon, Thomas, 64–65, 103–104, 119; ­house of, 79, 95, 96, 104, 105, 106, 108, 197n78 Greek language, 126–127 Gregorian calendar, 188n8, 211n106 Grivas, Theodorakis, 70–71, 72 Grosvenor, Elizabeth Mary Leveson-­Gower, Marchioness of Westminster, 105 Hadrian, 29, 53–54, 128, 161 Hallerstein, Karl Haller von, 42 Hamilton, William, 70 Hellenes, 10, 11, 126, 127, 206n162 Hellenic, 10–11, 16, 17, 43, 61, 85, 86, 101, 117, 126–128, 133, 141 Hellenism: indigenous, 11, 128; Western, 60, 86, 127 Heraion, Argive, 55, 89, 118, 119, 158, 169, 205n109, 212n140 Herakles, 56, 60, 81, 156 Herodotos, 26, 52–53, 59, 89, 90 Herulian invasion, 30, 161 Hervé, Francis, 104, 116, 117 heterochrony, 14, 16, 53, 60, 61, 85, 98, 116, 172, 176, 193n138 heterotopia, 13–15, 16, 54, 60, 61, 85, 98, 108, 116, 172 Homer, 13, 50, 52, 82, 148 ­hotels (inns, khans), 44, 106, 111, 149, 151, 189n32, 203n60 House of the Falconer, 31, 162–163 Howe, Julia Ward, 108, 113 Howe, Samuel Gridley, 108 Hughes, Thomas, 21, 42, 43, 45, 46, 48–49, 50, 59, 61, 62, 82, 90–91 Hutton William, 156 Hypermestra, 46, 55, 59, 60, 113

24 2 I nde x

Ibrahim Pasha, 69–70, 71, 75, 87, 196n71 Inachos (newspaper), 132, 139, 140, 141–142, 160, 163 Inachos river, 21, 55, 66, 148, 192n118 Inachos Secular Society, 17, 132, 133 inscriptions, 45, 46, 52, 81, 97, 117, 118, 129, 137, 146–147, 149, 152, 159, 160, 161, 162, 189n39, 198n100 Ioakim, Ioannis, 157 Ipiros (Epeiros), 106, 154 Isambert, Émile, 90 Jerningham, Hubert, 108, 110, 113 Jourdain, Philippe, 75–76, 81, 82, 83 Kalamata, 63, 70 Kalavryta, 63 Kallergis, Dimitrios, 73, 74, 102–103, 120, 195n45, 197n78; h ­ ouse of, 74–75, 79, 93, 101, 102, 106, 107, 115, 118, 165, 169 Kallergis, Nikolaos, 93, 196n66 Kapodistrias, Agostino, 72–73, 94, 102 Kapodistrias, Ioannis, 3, 4, 5, 16, 71–72, 74, 77, 79, 80, 84, 92–98, 101, 102, 118, 174, 195n32, 207n188 Karaïskakis, Georgios, 102 Karamanlides, 155–156 Karathanasopoulos, Panos, 113 Karatzas, Andreas, 145, 210n64 Katsingri, 125 Kavvadias, Panagiotis, 139 Kefalari, 24, 61, 107, 108, 132, 144, 155 Klenze, Leo von, 104 Kleomenes I, 27, 50, 56, 64, 89, 90, 91 Kleonai, 28 Knight, William, 114 Kofiniotis, Ioannis, 8, 17, 21, 35, 48, 64, 90, 91–92, 120, 124–129, 132, 133, 136, 138, 140, 149, 150, 206n148 Kokidis, Ifi kratis, 130 Kolettis, Ioannis, 68, 73, 74, 75, 155 Koliopoulos, Dimitrios (Plapoutas), 69 Kolokotronis, Genneos, 67, 69, 73 Kolokotronis, Panos, 68, 69 Kolokotronis, Theodoros, 66–67, 68, 69, 72, 73, 74, 75, 84, 86, 87, 92, 101 Koraïs, Adamantios, 10, 96, 97, 117–118, 126, 127, 200n156 Koryllos, Christos, 8 Kountouriotis, Georgios, 69, 73 Koutsopodi, 167 Kouzis, Dimitrios, 145, 210n63

Kranidi, 68–69 Kriezotis, Nikolaos, 73–74 Kriterion, 46, 55, 113, 148, 151, 157, 190n51, 193n131 Kylarabis, gymnasium of, 51, 56, 57, 114, 145, 151, 193n131, 204n81, 210n65 Lacour, J.-­L., 74, 79 Laloukas, 123, 210n73 Larisa hill, 21, 45, 51, 62, 65, 77, 85, 110, 114, 124, 149, 173, 185n1, 206n148; basilica, 32, 141, 159, 160; medieval ­castle, 24, 26, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 45, 47, 66, 70, 72, 74, 108, 129, 143, 146, 148, 151, 157, 158, 159, 160–161, 175–176, 190n68. See also monastery of the Concealed Virgin; sanctuaries: Athena Polias, Zeus Larisaios Larroumet, Gustave, 119 Laurent, Peter, 42, 45, 49, 76 Le Camus, Émile, 114 Leake, William, 42, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 50–51, 52, 59, 67, 83, 114, 136, 153, 187n72, 198n90 Lef kada, 147 legislative assembly of the provisional government, 66, 68–69 lieux de mémoire, 2 Linton, William, 105 Livy (Titus Livius), 145 local guides, 32, 82, 83, 113 London Greek Committee, 68, 69, 103 London Society of Dilettanti, 40, 42, 104 Ludwig I of Bavaria, 73, 97, 101, 104 Lykoni, Mount, 125, 140, 145, 198n90 Lykourizas, Georgios, 130 Macedonia/Makedonia, 28–29, 54, 106, 127, 154, 156, 207n188 Macmillan, George, 110 Mahaffy, John Pentland, 110, 120 Mahmud II, Sultan, 69, 73 Makriyiannis, Ioannis, 69, 70, 72, 75, 80, 85–86, 87, 92, 96, 102, 103, 197n81 Mani peninsula, 66, 67–68, 76 Mantinea, 28, 56, 124, 146 Maragou Theater, 130 Marcellus, Lodoïs de Martin du Tyrac, comte de, 41, 43 Marden, Philip, 149 market square, 3, 38; market hall, 113, 124; massacre, 74–75, 128, 174, 196n52 Martinelli, Napoleone, 119

I n d e x Mavrakis, Vasilios, 130 Mavrokordatos, Alexandros, 66, 68, 73 Mavromichalis, Georgios, 72, 87 Mavromichalis, Konstantinos, 70, 72 Mavromichalis, Petrobey, 67–68, 72, 73 Mavrommatis, Nikolaos, 80, 93, 94, 97 Mehmet Ali of Egypt, 69 Mesolongi, 70 Messenia/Messinia, 28, 71, 123 Metaxas Andreas, 68, 74, 103 Metaxas, Ioannis, 166 Meyers Reisebücher, 148–149 Miaoulis, Andreas, 73 Michaëlis, Adolf, 115, 120 Midea, 26, 125 Milchhöfer, Arthur, 90, 114, 118, 128 Ministry for the Environment, Physical Planning, and Public Works, 175, 214n39 Ministry of Culture, 3, 4, 5, 178, 214n39 Ministry of Ecclesiastical Affairs and Public Education, 118, 123, 125, 165, 169, 177, 207n170, 208n16 Mirabal, Nicola, 15, 38, 46 Modon (Methone), 70, 71 monastery of the Concealed Virgin, 31, 46–47, 64–65, 82, 83, 95, 113, 128, 148, 149, 167, 186n38, 203n78 Monceaux, André de, 15, 36–37, 45, 46, 114 monumental time, 11, 43, 101, 121, 178 Moreots, 16 mosaics, 125, 142, 161, 162–163, 169, 212n160 mosques, 12, 13, 36, 39, 76, 105, 141; central, 44, 95; southeast, 42, 44, 77–79, 95, 96, 114, 115, 198n89 Moustakas, Dionysios, 157 Moustoxydis, Andreas, 96–98 municipality (dimos) of Argos, 3, 4, 8, 119, 130, 144, 150, 165, 166, 169, 197n80; council, 3, 5, 8, 9 Mure, William, 82, 104, 106 Murray’s Handbook, 82, 83 museum, archaeological, 79, 165–166, 169. See also dimarchio: collection of antiquities Mustafa Bey, 64–65, 75, 90, 194n7 Mycenae, 13, 26, 29, 46, 48, 55, 86, 91, 108, 111, 120, 122, 131, 141, 146, 150, 157, 158, 169, 177, 190–191n69 Mykine (newspaper), 138, 139, 140, 142, 163, 164 Myli (Lerna), 9, 30, 66, 69, 70, 118, 119, 156

243

Myrtika, 157 Mystakopoulos ­family, 108 Nafplio, 33, 34, 35, 36, 38, 64, 65, 66, 69, 70, 74, 75, 76, 80, 87, 91, 101, 103, 104, 107, 111, 118, 121, 125, 151, 157, 168, 177, 195n32; Akronauplia (Its Kale), 70, 107, 123; Bourtzi, 71; church of St. Spyridon, 72; dimarchio, 118; Palamidi hill, 35, 67, 70; Pronia, 93; rivalry with Argos, 122–123 national assembly: 1st (Epidauros), 65–66, 157; 2nd (Astros), 67–68; 3rd (Troizen), 71, 97, 104, 120, 195n33; 4th (Argos), 72, 84, 87, 97, 101, 157; 5th (Argos), 72, 87 Navarino (Pylos), 70; ­battle of, 71, 104 neighborhoods, 43–44 Nemea, 67, 121; games, 28 neoclassical buildings, 6, 95, 173, 214n26 newspapers, 8, 17, 18, 120–124, 156, 160, 164–165, 172 Notaras, Panoutsos, 69, 72–73, 76 nymphaeum (Hadrianic), 18, 24, 29, 37, 45, 48, 58, 82–83, 85, 98, 113, 114, 115, 128, 138, 143, 145–146, 148, 149, 151, 157, 190n48, 193n131, 198n100. See also Kriterion odeion, 18, 26, 47, 151, 153, 168, 174, 175 Oinoe, 151 Olga, Queen, 111 Olin, Stephen, 106 Olympia, 97, 143 Orlov revolt, 41 Otto, King, 17, 73, 75, 86, 101–107 Ottomans, 12, 13, 15, 34, 35, 36, 42, 43–44, 55, 60, 63–71, 92, 95–96, 121, 126, 127, 154, 190n64 Paganelis, Spyridon, 8, 90, 123–124, 128 palimpsest, 12–13, 15, 40, 95, 172. See also transtextuality Palmerston, Henry John ­Temple, Third Viscount, 106 Panargiaki (newspaper), 159, 160, 163 Panhellenion, 53–54 Papaïkonomos, Christos, 129, 130, 131 Papalexopoulos, Michaïl, 110, 119, 120, 205n115, 210n63 Papandreou, Georgios, 165 Paparrigopoulos, Konstantinos, 17, 127 Patras, 63, 64, 92, 93

24 4 I n d e x

Pausanias, 13, 15–16, 18, 21, 27, 30, 42, 46, 47, 48, 50, 51–60, 61, 82, 83, 85, 89–90, 113, 123, 124, 125, 136, 137, 143, 145, 148, 150, 153, 159, 179, 190–191n69, 191n88, 191n90, 192n114, 193n131, 208n21 Pellion, Jean Pierre, 74, 76 Peloponnesian War, 28, 54 Perroukas ­family, 43, 64, 203n65; Charalambos, 68; Dimitrios, 201n171; Nikolaos, 64, 194n24 Perseus, 37, 55, 60, 62, 122 Persian invasion, 27, 54, 144 Peter the Thaumaturge, St., 17, 31–32, 130, 186n40; cathedral of, 77, 95, 104, 111, 170, 203n65 Pheidias, 158 Pheidon, 26–27 pilgrimage, 51, 53, 187n63, 192n105 Pirounis, Georgios, 5, 6, 175 Plutarch, 27, 50, 88, 89 Polykleitos, 56, 58, 124, 125, 158 population, 43, 76, 108, 170, 176, 189n24, 202n25, 202n43 Poros, 85–86 Poujoulat, Joseph, 77, 82 Pouqueville, François, 41, 43, 44, 50, 188n6, 206n148 Pourtalès-­Gorgier, Count James-­Alexandre de, 42 Pyrrhos (king), 28–29, 50, 55, 58, 64, 144 Pyrrhos, Dionysios, 8, 61, 77, 83, 193n144, 198nn89–90, 198nn96–97 railway station, 17, 111 Randolph, Bernard, 15, 37–38 regency, 102 Reisinger, Ernst, 149 Rethymno, 11, 178 revolution of 1843, 103 Rey, Étienne, 113 Rio (Rhion), 71 Rizos Rangavis, Alexandros, 8, 119 Rizos Rangavis, Iakovos, 8, 90, 105, 119 Romans, 29–30, 53, 54, 126, 153, 158, 159, 192n114, 193n131 Romeic, 10–11, 16, 17, 43, 61, 85, 86, 101, 117, 126–128, 133, 141 Ross, Ludwig, 102, 104, 113, 118 Roumeliots, 16, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 75 Roussos, Emmanouil, 139, 209n36 Rus­sians, 71, 72, 85–86, 108

Salamis (Koulouri), 68 Salona (Amphissa), 69 sanctuaries: Aphrodite, 30, 46, 51, 55, 56, 57, 59, 89, 113, 128, 148, 168, 174; Aphrodite and Ares, 124; Apollo Lykeios, 42, 47, 50, 51, 55, 56, 58, 59, 82, 114, 129, 159, 198n90; Apollo Pythaeus (Deiradiotis), 18, 31, 47, 51, 56, 58, 82, 113–114, 129, 135, 137, 142, 144, 146, 151, 162; Athena Polias, 18, 51, 56, 57, 148, 158, 159, 160, 161; Hera Akraia, 47, 82, 114, 128, 148; Zeus Larisaios, 18, 51, 56, 143, 148, 158, 160 Schaub, Charles, 108, 111, 118–119 Schliemann, Heinrich, 13, 17, 111, 120, 122, 141, 146, 148 schools, 108, 196–197n71; Hellenic, 158, 165, 169; mutual (Kapodistrian), 77, 129, 130, 132, 154, 197nn71–72; pre-­ Revolution, 43, 189nn21–22 Scrofani, Saverio, 41, 44, 45, 47, 50, 62, 90, 198n90 sculpture, 17, 37, 42, 45, 81, 87, 90, 114, 115, 117, 118, 119, 120, 121, 123, 125, 126, 132, 139, 140, 142, 144, 149, 151–152, 153, 156, 157, 158, 162, 169, 209n60 Second World War, 18, 166, 167–168, 170 Sensine, Henri, 164 Seymour, Thomas, 111–112 Sgouros, Leon, 33–34 Sibthorp, John, 41 Skias, Andreas, 137, 138, 139 Slavs, 31 Smyrna, 66, 107, 121, 155 social time, 11, 43, 101, 121, 184n36 Sonnini de Manoncourt, Charles-­Nicola-­ Sigisbert, 41, 49–50 Sophokles, 47, 50, 84, 134 Sparta, 11, 16, 27, 28, 30, 36, 54, 89, 93, 123, 126, 129, 144, 150 spolia, 17, 32, 81, 114–117 stadium, 51, 57, 137, 148 Staïkopoulos, Staïkos, 65 Stamatakis, Panagiotis, 118, 122, 204n103 Stamatelopoulos, Nikitas (Nikitaras), 8, 65, 67, 68, 69, 72 Stamatelos, Ioannis, 120 Stanhope, Leicester, 68–69, 76 Stratos, Giannakis, 70 subterranean passages, 39, 47, 48, 83 Synkellos, Georgios, 30

I n d e x Taylor, Bayard, 105, 113 Tegea, 56 Telesilla, 16, 27, 50, 56, 59, 88–90, 91–92, 124; relief/stele, 87–88, 90–91, 92, 115, 119, 123, 128, 132, 199n120 Temenion (Nea Kios), 118, 119, 121, 156 ­Temple, Grenville, 79–80, 83, 87, 114 temporality, experiences of, 127. See also monumental time; social time theater (Hellenistic), 14, 18, 24, 28, 37, 38, 42, 45, 51, 55, 57, 72, 82, 83–85, 86–87, 98, 101, 108, 113, 114, 119, 120, 124, 125, 132, 139, 140, 142, 146, 149, 151, 152, 153, 156, 157, 161, 162, 165, 168, 173, 174, 175, 190n42, 199n106 Thebes, 26, 28 Theodoros I Paleologos, 34 Thessaloniki, 108, 154 Thiersch, Friedrich, 97 Thirdspace, 15 Thirty Days’ War, 130 tholos tombs, 26, 190–191n69 Thomopoulos, Georgios, 4, 172, 174 Thucydides, 47, 60 Thyrea, 27, 28, 144 Tiryns, 17, 26, 27, 48, 56, 61, 62, 75, 77, 89, 122, 123, 141, 146, 158, 202n24 town plans, 172, 174, 175; Borroczyn, 77–78, 94–96, 98, 174; De Vaud, 77, 93–94; Voulgaris, 92–93. See also urbanization transtextuality, 12, 13, 76, 95, 172 Trant, Thomas, 76, 79, 83, 85, 86–87, 92, 198nn95–96 Treaty of Lausanne, 155 Trikoupis, Charilaos, 76, 125, 197n80, 206n151 Trikoupis, Spyridon, 64–65, 80, 91, 95, 197n80 Tripoli (Tripolitsa), 36, 38, 41, 65, 68, 69, 70, 103, 113, 125 Troizen. See national assembly: 3rd Tsokris, Dimitrios, 8, 16, 68, 70, 71, 73–74, 77, 84, 87, 104, 107, 195–196nn44–46, 196n66, 210n64; h ­ ouse of, 80, 87, 90, 91, 95, 96, 117, 119, 128, 197n78, 197n80 Tsokris, Georgios, 71, 80, 104, 197n80 Tsountas, Christos, 131

245

University of Utrecht, 133, 134, 163 urbanization, 18, 92, 170–171, 173, 174, 176 Vandeÿk, Francesco, 46 Vardouniotis, Dimitrios, 17, 75, 122–123, 124, 125, 130, 132, 133, 136, 139, 140, 141–142, 152, 155, 163–164, 197n80, 205n135, 206n148, 208n16 Veli Pasha, 42, 62, 188n15, 193n146 Venetians, 3, 33, 34, 35, 38, 141, 159, 160–161, 184n34 Venizelos, Eleftherios, 125, 154, 155 Vischer, Wilhelm, 113, 118 Vlassis, Christos, 95 Vlassis, Theodoros, 64 Vlassopoulos, Christos, 44, 49 Vollgraff, Wilhelm, 17–18, 48, 57, 133–134, 138–142, 149–152, 163–166, 168, 169, 172, 178, 179; campaign of 1902, 134–138; of 1903–1904, 142–145; of 1906, 145–149; of 1912, 152–153; of 1928 and 1930, 156–163 Vonitsa, 107 Vostitsa (Aigion), 63, 92 Votsaris Gikas (Botasis), 91 Wilamowitz-­Moellendorff, Ulrich von, 133, 134, 136 Wilde, Oscar, 110, 202n54 Wilhelmina, Queen, 159 Xirias river (Charadros), 21, 64, 87, 90, 124, 148, 173, 192n118 Ydra, 65, 68, 69, 72, 102 Yemeniz, Eugène, 106 Ypsilantis, Dimitrios, 65, 66, 69, 70, 103, 207n188 Zaïmis, Andreas, 74 Zalikoglou, Grigorios, 127 Zambelios, Spyridon, 17, 127 Zavos, Lambros, 3, 94–95 Ziller, Ernst, 113, 152, 167